#if Spring is up for getting their characters incapacitated enough to have the two be like a last resort funny thing

[the-cookies-of-darkness]

Dark Jax: good or bad? thats a hard one... back before THIS? i was def bad... wanted everything gone! JUST like my pervious itterations... but that was a LIFETIME ago... now? i don't even know... but i HATE this jerk! and want him OUT as much as ANYTHING!... only way i know of, would be to make our fusion unstable! *meanwhile Xaster has Velvet's body rush Pitaya! leaping from whats left of the blasters! his plan? put Red Velvet in DANGER! make the heroes fight themselves to save'em!*

"Do you think if we hurt your body enough that it could make the fusion unstable? I need out of here but I want to help you. Or maybe we can have whoever Void was talking about to try and help, we just may need to knock this body out for that. I hope whatever's happening out there has gotten better..." Red Velvet thought out.

Dark Enchantress looked at Red Velvet (or at least his body) in horror, summoning anything that would contain him but not hurt him. "I will not let you hurt my son!"

Bugtrap fully crawled out of the trapdoor to focus on Xaster. "You go ahead, Enchantress. I'll try to deal with this guy!" he said, focusing his calming power on Xaster.

[onmyyan]

Menace Mode Unlocked

Chapter two

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake

A/N: Canon typical violence, Bruce is down horrendous, Yandere vibes

It been a long time since someone was able to occupy Bruce’s mind the way you were. He knew he had a knack for falling for the wrong woman and it always started the same. He couldn’t stop thinking about them. It never been like this though, this was something new, something different. And that excited him.

He was raking his mind over ways to run into you again, his current bet was to say something was wrong with the contract you’d signed, there was a misprint or something, anything to get you in front of him, just long enough for him to get a real read on who you were. Little did he know that encounter would happen sooner than he imagined, only neither of you knew you’d met before.

 He was following up on a cold case while simultaneously reading the news about Black Mask murder, it wasn’t every day a crime lord blew up, and he needed to pin this “Goblin” down, first to answer for their crimes, then rehabilitation. It was always the goal in the back of his mind when he caught someone, that it be the last time he does and they can be saved, because while they did kill, they saved, as a group of women were rescued from a shipping container, they shakily told the police a figure shrouded in dark green ripped the steel containers doors off it’s hinges like it was made of paper, then vanished into the air. There were fragments left behind for one of their weapons, and once he put them together the now dented projectile weighed heavily in his hand. It looked like a batarang that had been made in someone’s cellar, definitely designed to go through things as opposed to Bruce’s incapacitate method. He was about to meet its maker.

Call it chance or fate but that same night he found himself above a not so underground fighting rink. Usually he’d scope out the scene and create a plan of action based on the situation, He needed more information before he dived in, the hairs on the back of his neck stood all at once and only then did he realize he wasn’t alone. Without turning around he spoke, “Not many people can sneak up on me.” He didn’t receive a response so he continued to push, all while stealthily keeping his hand near his belt.

“I’m flattered.” He said turning to face the hooded figure, they waited silently as he showed off the familiar weapon, tilting it to catch the light, while not exactly the same he could see enough similarities to need to bite back a smirk.

”Don’t be.” The figure finally spoke, head tilted downward, an air of amusement could be heard through the mechanically altered voice, a dark gravel riddled sound that matched their aura, they hovered too far for his suits tracking system to start, he just needed them an inch closer, but they stayed eerily still, hovering over both him and the city like a ghoul. 

“You have to admit there is a resemblance?” He asked tilting the weapon back at its owner. “This is the first one you left behind, got sloppy and forgot this inside someone.” He took the time to analyze his opponent, your form was crouched low, like a spring waiting to pop, while a tattered cloak covered most of you, the traffic from below would occasionally shine light at your face. He could see the twisted grin of the mask, the eyes glowing an eerie verdant.

It was silent for a moment, just long enough for him to think you’d ignored him.

“Sorry.” It could be a hopeful projection on his part but underneath that filter he could hear something genuine. Something, in the simple statement worth holding on to. He knew remorse, if real, was a sign it wasn’t too late for them. He took a hopeful step forward, lowering the weapon to the ground.

“For the murder of Roman Sionis and two of his men or the fact that I could sue you for slandering my image?” Before he could mentally celebrate the tracker he’d activated, you were tensing back up, with a wave of your hand an orange, palm sized ball was held firmly. “For this.” The bomb it up in a fluorescent green before being tossed his way, He’d began running before you could throw and still got knocked off the side of the building. Despite the burning sensation ripping across his side he managed to grapple his way to the wall and aggressively slam into the fire escape, desperate to ease the pain in his side, it wasn’t the worst he’d been hit but damn did it sting, the blast had given him a nasty gash, trailing from his hip to his chest, he could feel himself losing consciousness, with a quick flick the beacon was sent to Tim, with that in mind he allowed himself a moment of rest, his eyes flashed upwards as the sound of a whirring engine ripped through the sky, a flash of green was all he’d caught before darkness claimed him.

Bruce had woken up in the cave, Tim sat beside his bed, laptop in hand, the furious tapping of the keys woke Bruce. “Oh good you’re not dead.” Tim spoke gently shutting the laptop, his hair had gotten so long he’d taken to throwing it in a bun. “Yes, very much alive.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had to rescue you before- gotta say I was a little underwhelmed.” This pulled a grin from Bruce as he sat up with a wince, his hand tracing the new scar the Goblin gifted him.

”I’ll keep that in mind.” He walked to a mirror a few feet away, Tim’s eyes following his movement.

”What happened anyway? Jonathan out again?”

”No. This was someone new.” Bruce stood idly tracing the wound. Transfixed by the feeling it gave, to think he didn’t know anything about you and you’d marked him forever. The thought sent a shiver of warmth up his spine. Tim watched growing more and more concerned with his Father’s behavior.

That was last night and to say you were pissed would be an understatement. Mr.Tall dark and brooding placed something in your hardware during your little chat- despite never coming close he’d managed to place, a tracker you’d guess, almost seamlessly in the programming of your board, unluckily for him you knew your shit, and just so happened to be an obsessive perfectionist, call it a hunch but something told you to pull over, so you did, perched high enough to break everything if you fell, you gently examined your masterpiece, one of them anyways, it taken years to steal the right parts from under your fathers nose, he was impossible to work with let alone be around, so your little project was a secret, a swiped shipment from Oscorp here a stolen crate there and you’d made the small nerd inside of you want to dance, flight was a dream no longer. The error screen on your phone was all the confirmation you needed, frustration boiled beneath your veins , a rough kick to the door beside you left a sizeable dent, nearly poking straight through, you allowed yourself the lapse of control considering what you were being forced to do. A few specific codes were punched into the screen of your phone, the device nestled securely in its holder on your forearm, the board roaring to life, eagerly waiting its next command. “Sorry darlin’. I’ll make it up to ya.” With one last push the board flew straight up, about 300 ft from your head it self destructed, the brief flash shimmered in your (e/c), with a bitter sigh you left for the stairs, all but ripping the door off it’s hinges in your small fit. While you were busy kicking a physical fit, tearing up your already messy workroom, Bruce was throwing a mental one.

Bruce had been forced into the office, much to his annoyance, he had to send Tim to the sight of the tracker, at least the last place it pinged before going offline. This Goblin had officially caught Bruce’s attention. 

1. they were obviously inspired by him and along with inflating his ego, in his mind that meant they could be saved and 2. It been a long time since someone managed to knock out the dark knight, something Tim wouldn’t be letting go anytime soon. Despite the urge to investigate you himself he knew Tim was more than capable of handling it. He knew he’d get the job done. 

And yet, his mind could not focus.

Tim was having the opposite problem, he was pulled away from his own projects to help Bruce with his current investigation. Yes he could handle it and yes it was in the job description but in his heart of hearts he simply wasn’t interested in chasing a ghost for Bruce.

That is until he got to the scene.

There were clear signs of someone having taken out their aggression in the area, the door being crumpled like a soda can, but what really caused him to pause was the almost perfect layer of soot over everything, like something had exploded, had he not noticed it then, he never would have as the morning rain began to steadily fall over the city. He quickly grabbed as many samples of the dust as he could before making his way back to the cave, completely or conveniently forgetting to contact Bruce the second he got something, an odd request Bruce made when he assigned the mission. 

Tim waited for the results, impatiently tapping his fingers in a senseless drum, legs bouncing as his mind raced to answer the questions before the computer did.

“Analysis ready.”

”What do we got?”

“Minerals consistent with steel,an explosive agent, and unknown materials.”

”Unknown? I didn’t think you knew that word.” He sat back with a huff, brain kicking into overdrive. His fingers moved a mile a minute as he see he’d searched, desperately looking for an answer to the hundreds of questions running through his mind, just what did you use to make something like that? You had have been using military grade materials and they don’t sell those at Home Depot, someone  had built and destroyed something that was clearly advanced. Whoever did this was the kind of intelligent that made people nervous, he grew more and more excited with every new piece of information he found.

 If what he read in Bruce’s latest mission report was accurate you’d achieved fluid flight and had enough speed to have needed a significant source of energy. Tim couldn’t wait to crack you, he’s sure Bruce wouldn’t mind, he did tell him to check on the case so technically he wasn’t stealing anything from anyone. 

Meanwhile you were busy mourning the loss of your glider. With a box of pizza in one hand and your toolkit in another you set out for your workshop. It used to be an underground garage but you quickly set up shop the second you found it, and while your father didn’t care about you enough to be mad, your mother was glad to have you out of the house but still close by as to not embarrass her or the family name. Yeah her words exactly. None of it mattered to you though, all that mattered was your work, because it wasn’t just work, it was the art of creation. You’d built in a security system that only allowed you into the room so you didn’t bother to hide anything. 

Various weapons and tools were scarred about in a somehow organized mess, blueprints and sketches littered your desk, with a swipe it all fell to the floor making room for your duffel bag of fun. You’d been working on another variant of the pumpkin bomb when your phone rang. You would have ignored it but something in you pushed you to set down your work and press answer.

”What?”

”I was going to ask if this was you miss (Y/n) , but I suppose that answers my question.” The warm voice of Bruce Wayne called out from your phone, an amused smile found your face as you stared at the number. 

“And yet you still haven’t answered.”

Bruce was practically kicking his feet as he spoke, trying his best to sound sincere.

”Unfortunately this isn’t a social call. When we tried to file the contract we noticed a misprint in the title, making any signatures void.” A slam was heard as your head thunked against your desk.

”Can’t you just forge it?”

”Afraid not, but I understand how much of a hassle it is to come down here so how about I come to you.”

You had to bite back a laugh at the obvious man.

”Do you personally hand deliver all your contracts Mr.Wayne?” 

“When the person signing is you? Absolutely.”

You debated entertaining the man, something in his tone was tugging at you. “Okay big shot here’s what we’re gonna do,” he all but jumped in his seat at your agreement. “Meet me at Chonnys, you know it?” He had already googled the name, sweating at the idea of disappointing you, “The diner on 4th and Queen St?” An amused huff left your mouth, “Look at you knowing the locals, 1 hour.” Is how you ended the call. It only lasted a few minutes but Bruce was buzzing, almost giddy his plan had worked out, sure you were only going for the contract but he’d get you to stay with that infamous Wayne charm.

[crystalessenceswrites]

Shadows- Chapter Four

Shadows

A modern monster AU Pairings: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, dark themes, death of unnamed and background characters, descriptions of blood, descriptions of a dead body Summary: Crypto- concealed; secret. You have always lived your life in the shadows; after all, you’re one of the creatures who go bump in the night. He has sworn his life to a creed that aims to protect the world from monsters like you.

[Masterlist] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] Cross-posted to AO3

Why was it always vampires?

It seemed like the bounty lists were chalk full of them these days, more so than normal. Which was not awful for slayers. They were generally high paying jobs, considering most of them were wanted for the murder of the humans or cryptos they’d been feeding on. You just preferred to stay away from the fangs. The superhuman abilities of a well-fed vampire were difficult to match in a fight, even for seasoned slayers. While you had the training and equipment to deal with them, the bounty was not always worth the medical bills after the fact. You specialized in the kinds of bounties that were more brains than brawn. Preferring the chase over the actual fight. Today you did not have much of a choice, apparently. You’d come into the office later in the morning and arrived to find all the new non-vampiric bounties had been promptly snatched up by the early birds. Leaving you stuck with the fangs. Great.

Your target was a vampire named Qin. He was active and was not doing much of anything to cover it up. A serious threat to everyone if left unattended to. The urgency in needing to deal with someone like him had bumped his bounty up fairly high, even for the usual vampire fair. There were plenty of breadcrumbs to follow, making your afternoon much easier. He was holed up in the old industrial district during the day. Most of the old neighborhood was being retrofitted for industrial lofts and modern condos, so there would be plenty of construction sites and condemned buildings for him to hide in and a steady stream of workers to pick off for food. Sightings and intelligence had his location narrowed down to a three-block radius. The was all easy enough. Killing him would be another story.

Vampires did not have any one magic bullet weakness- they aren’t susceptible to iron or silver- making them harder to handle. Staking one through the head or heart was usually the best way to incapacitate one, until their body was burned and ashes were scattered. That required getting closer than you were comfortable with. The last thing you wanted was a fanged creature with arms reach of your neck. You really should have just taken the day off. Too bad your landlord never took a day off when it came time to collect your rent.

Starting with the largest warehouse on the southside and moving north until you got lucky, or rather unlucky, enough to run into your bounty, seemed the best course of action. And today kept proving to be an unlucky day for you. You’d barely broken into the first building when you came across two completely drained corpses left out in the open, bodies still cooling. Your bounty was here and full of fresh blood.

Well shit.

Sword drawn you continue to sneak through the abounded building. Vampires were natural predators; their sense of smell was leagues above your own. It was more than likely he already knew you were here-unless he was occupied with another victim. That must have been the case, considering he hadn’t jumped out at you yet. On high alert you continue farther into the warehouse with a white-knuckle grip on your weapon. The main body of the building is split into two storage areas, the first dark in the overcast afternoon and empty. There are signs someone’s been around, a mattress and blankets in a corner, duffle bags and a pile of dark clothes next to a tower of take-out boxes. Odd.

You drop to the floor as the crack of a gunshot splits the silence. Mind reeling you wonder what vampire needs a fucking gun. Another scan of the space confirms you’re still alone, no shooter in sight. It must have come from the next room, too loud to have been outside the building. As you approach the partition the familiar metallic sting of fresh blood reaches your nose. Vampires don’t bleed.

Three more shots ring out, definitely from the other side of the partition.

Vampire’s don’t use guns.

Another deep breath draws more of the scents in, the dust and mildew of the building, the spark of gun powder and the overwhelming musk of human. Your bounty was not alone and wasn’t with anyone friendly. It wasn’t another slayer- once a bounty gets picked up its pulled off the lists- and most slayers didn’t smell so strongly of human, so the next logical assumption was a lone hunter. Not that it would have been hard for any human to pick up on this vampire’s trail, but if it had been law enforcement to find him the building would be flooded with cops.

You truly had the worst luck today.

Odds were probably one to four against the hunter. Humans rarely stood a chance against vampires unless they caught one out in sunlight.

A loud crash, like something heavy collapsing, shakes the silence. As a slayer you’re obligated to help the human but considering all that’s gone on in the last few weeks you’re feeling much less inclined to do so.

“Come on Mando! I thought you freaks were proud warriors and all!”

Fucking hell. Kira was right, you are a Mando magnet. The vampire’s taunt is not reassuring in the slightest. You did not need a dead Mando on your hands. Creeping into the next room you’re quick to find cover behind some dust covered work benches. Surveying the space leads you to believe the Mando and Qin have been at a while. The space is trashed, boxes toppled over and crushed, shelves up ended, and bullet holes are scattered throughout the space.

The Mando’s back is to you at the moment while he and the vampire stare each other down. You don’t need to see his face to know who you’re dealing with; you’d been on the look out for this particular mop of curls since your last run-in. How was he everywhere you needed to be? Why couldn’t you shake him?

He suddenly springs into action again, drawing the spear he’d been carrying on his back, swinging it in a wide arch at the vampire. Qin’s too fast and easily dodges the attack before going in for his own, trying to get within arm’s reach. Mando doesn’t let him, blocking each attack with deadly precision. Neither gives in, pushing back against the other, jumping around the other in attempt to land a hit.

You’re hesitant to say you’re impressed by Mando, but only out of spite. He moves like a well-oiled machine, despite not having the upper hand he does not give up control of the fight to his undead opponent. This is the most dressed down you’ve seen him, baring the silver tac vest over a dark colored shirt. You can safely assume its beskar, the metal harnessed solely by the Mandalorians. Just one of the things that made then unique to other hunters. As he circles around Qin you catch sight of blood dripping down his sharp jaw, the hair just above his ear dark and matted with it. He’d taken a pretty serious hit already.

Now you really had to help him.

This was the kind of opportunity you never had when dealing with vampires. Qin’s attention was solely focused on the hunter. There was no indication from either that they’d noticed your silent arrival. You had one shot with the element of surprise, and you needed to make it count. If you could incapacitate Qin, stun him long enough for you and Mando to finish the job you could make it out of here in one piece. Mando in close to one piece.

Although there was no magic bullet for vampires, a bullet wound did still require time and energy to heal. Even though vampires and the like were technically “undead,” they still felt and registered pain to some degree, meaning bullets also provided a certain shock factor. You lose the sword, reaching for your thigh holster instead. While you were not a fan of guns, you weren’t willing to risk a fight with a vampire for your pride. You always came prepared when dealing with a bloodsucker.

Qin and Mando continue to circle each other in their tense dance. Despite the dark look in both their eyes, Qin has a smug smirk plastered across his face, probably under the impression he was going to be having a Mandalorian for lunch. Too bad you couldn’t allow it. All you needed was a clear shot. You mentally will Mando to put some distance between him and the bloodsucker, as if that would actually work.

Your breath catches in your throat as Mando sweeps his spear in another wide arc, forcing Qin back. Maybe you were lucky today after all. The moment Qin lands back on his feet, far enough away from the hunter, you jump out from your cover and take the shot, tagging Qin in the temple.

Damn good shot.

Mando jumps as Qin’s body crumples to the ground, face drawing together in confusion. That feeling akin to satisfaction returns. You could get the jump on him and a vampire. Third time would not be his charm, you are sure of it. You would not let it.

His brain catches up with the situation and he swings around, staff pointed at you as you vault over the workbench. Next comes the recognition, his jaw dropping just a bit at your sudden materialization. You’re thankful his first reaction isn’t to attack as you’re quick to re-holster your gun.

“Focus Mando,” you quip, directing your attention back to the vampire beginning to move on the floor.

“Fuck!” Qin curses, already starting to come back to it. That seemed too quick, even for a recently fed vampire.

Mando snaps into action, kicking Qin down before his spear finds its way through the vampire’s rib cage. Judging by the ear-splitting screech Qin let’s out, Mando found his mark, staking Qin where he lays. Mando does not move as you approach with sword in hand. He does not move as you bring your blade to rest on the bounty’s neck.

“You have one chance to surrender or I collect the bounty on your head, Qin.”

“You bitch!” He snarls, thrashing around the pole shoved through his torso. “Working with a Mando, that’s low- even for a slayer!”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“See you in hell one day, bitch.”

Smug even in death. Ugh. You don’t feel much as you chop his off with one swift swing. Not after you saw those two innocents on your way in. People like him were the exact reason humans called your kind monsters.

“Sunny disposition on that one,” you grumble, stepping back from Mando and the decapitated bounty. The hunter doesn’t even offer you a curtesy laugh. Stick in the mud.

“Why are you here?”

He doesn’t bother to hide the suspicion. Did he think you were following him now? That was rich.

“Doing my job. I took on the bounty for this one.” Pulling your messenger bag off, you begin to organize your supplies, “which I’d like to finish up if you have no objections.”

Mando just steps back, leaning against his staff. You can feel the weight of his gaze boring into you while you work. His eyes tracking your every move, detailing each item you pull from your clean up kit. You didn’t spot any bag of his lying around, you wonder how he had been planning on dealing with the body.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Why did you help me?”

Questions, questions.

“You let us go last time- I owed you for that at least,” you shrug. Now you were even. Well, as even as you could be with a human Mandalorian.

He’s silent for a moment, watching as you pull a few jars and a water bottle out of the bag. One contains a small collection of thistle bulbs. Mando doesn’t ask but you can see the curiosity growing as you stick the sharp plants into the vampire’s wounds.

“Vampires are weak to thistle, introduce it into the body and it halts their healing abilities. Aloe vera works too, it’s just not as flammable.

“Aloe vera and thistles?”

You chuckle, “what, did you think garlic would work?”

Mando scoffs, his sharp eye still following your hands. Next comes the burning of the body. You want to get that done as quick as possible. Thistle was not an end all weakness and even decapitated vampires could regenerate. You douse the body and head in gasoline from the water bottle.

“Light?”

Eyebrows raised you gingerly take the lighter he offers, catching the edge of Qin’s shirt with the flame. It doesn’t take long for the rest of the corpse to catch. The flames cast shadows over the Mandalorian’s face as you watch him from the corner of your eye. The air is heavy between you and not with the smell of burning flesh.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to let him kill me?”

“Why would I want that?” Had he not come to the realization that you couldn’t kill him?

“You get rid of nuisances, right? So one of you will have to kill me eventually.”

It takes all your will power to not burst out laughing. There was no way he was getting anything from an inside informant if that’s what he thought slayers did. You had this Mando pinned down about as wrong as he had you figured out. No wonder no one had been able to find a turn coat when one didn’t exist to begin with.

“I don’t know where you’re getting your info, but you need to find a different source. Trust me. As much as most slayers want to get rid of hunters, we can’t without very good reasons. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be any better than the ones we hunt.”

He quirks an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest, “so what? You’re just monsters hunting other monsters?”

“One,” you hold up a finger, “we use the term crypto.”

“Crypto? Like cryptid?”

“Where do you think humans got the word from?”

Mando scoffs at that but doesn’t press.

“Two, most of us don’t actually qualify as cryptos. Slayers are primarily half-bloods.”

You revel in the confusion on his face. Never did you think you would find yourself completely altering a Mandalorian’s understanding of the world. This was priceless.

Why were you telling him all this?

“Half-bloods?”

“You know, half human?”

“That’s possible?”

Now you cannot hold back the laugh this time, “human genetics are surprisingly adaptable.”

A look of disgust washes over his face and your heart drops.

“I just want you to know we’re not so different… our job is to stop those who hurt or take advantage of humans, to stop those who threaten to expose us. I imagine that’s not so different from what Mandalorians want…” after all, they couldn’t want to kill you all, could they?

[megashadowdragon]

sanji will fight queen

sanji vs queen because  of queen being an okama  with  technology  (a mechanical arm ) as revealed in one piece 925 and  sanjis history on  okama  island  and him having a  raid suit  

to add to the idea of sanji fighting queen queen rules over the prison where they can only get one piece of food for every block they bring leading many to starve like old man hyou and sanji due to his past and feelings on starvation would be pissed about that

megashadowdragon . tumblr . com/post/181975792907/sanji-will-end-up-transforming-after-getting-angry/embed

Uses tech + wears Sunglasses like RS Sanji Blonde like Sanji Smoker like Sanji Food obsession Opposite of Sanjis code to not let anyone starve, he starves people to keep them under control Obsessed with pretty women he reacts to Komurasakis death same as Sanji.

not to mention they both refer to women like  komurasaki being komurasaki tan sanji with swan etc Sent his men after Sanji that Sanji dealt/is dealing with already Has a comedic side to him with his dances and reactions like MR2, Jabra and Absalom all had their quirks.

And now hes also the guy with a plan like Sanji, managing to capture a Yonko like Sanji stopped a Buster Call against all odds, and hes revealed to be a martial artist using wrestling moves in combat like the Brachio Bomb.

Also somehow i just recently realized the connection between Soba Mask and Queen ruling over Udon. Soba and Udon are both iconic type of japanese noodles

Also important to note, Sanji’s Hell Memories was fueled by remembering the torture he has gone through within the last two years and Queen is not only likely a Okama, also a cruel guy which is responsible for breaking the spirits of the prisoners. It’s the perfect opportunity to push Sanji to his limits…

I like to add that when Sanji was fighting with Judge and thought about their past, his Dj(Poele A Frire) glowed brighter than than usual.

against judge

Diable Jambe and Poele A Frire against Doflamingo:

also on queen being an okama

The word “okama” generally refers to homosexual men, trans women or heterosexual men who are considered feminine or flamboyant (similar to “onee” or “new half”).

so queen would be an okama though he has shown attraction to women due to his feminine traits and “  having all of the mannerisms of an okama,  “

and there is a bit of a pun with queen I mean he is a  massive man named Queen with make up and okama mannerism who can transform into a creature classified as a Dragon( his brachiosaurus fruit is classified under the Ryu Ryu (Dragon-Dragon) Fruit family therefore making the dinosaur he turns into being classified as a dragon subspecies. This is so as the Japanese word for dinosaur, Kyoryu, is written with the characters for “Fearful” and “Dragon”.). In other words, Drag Queen.

– Queen’s appearance is based on the character “Heart” from “Fist of the North Star”. in Kenshiro vs Heart,  how Kenshiro defeated him with “SUPER KICKS”.

In it Kamen Rider Black RX is a cyborg whose motif is a black grasshopper, which mirrors Sanji’s own epithet as Black Leg. Grasshoppers are known for their incredible spring like leg muscles that allow them to jump incredible heights which allow them to launch themselves in the air to fly. However he also has another motif and that is based on the sun. Kamen Rider Black RX is a photosynthetic warrior who is powered by the sun.

– Queen showed interest in Sanji because he’s a Vinsmoke and Judge’s son. That’s the first build-up of this upcoming fight.

– Queen knows Judge. And based on Queen’s evil medical and engineering expertise, he was definitely a previous member of Vegapunk’s scientific team (Queen, Ceasar, Judge, Vegapunk). This is a build-up for a flashback.

– Queen can extend his neck like Yonji’s right forearm. It’s the same design and both act as a winch. He can also shoot bullets from his mouth and use poison. , I expect Queen to have all Germa’s tech in him. And by defeating him, it would seem as if Sanji defeated or overcame his siblings.

Since Kamen Rider is powered by the sun, he can set his legs and fists on fire to increase the lethality of his kicks and punches, which is basically what Sanji’s Diable Jambe does

and he hada form called the prince of anger where once he reaches a certain point of anger  he transformed and

this would be foreshadowing

so either sanji will get pissed off enough that he uses the raid suit

so he will either havea physical transformationthere’s a tokusatsu that we know Oda likes, which would be a much more explicit inspiration for the Germa 66 : Kamen Rider. specifically the villainous organization shocker

Shocker was a terrorist organization that planned on ruling the world (in the original manga is shown that Shocker had some influences over the governments of the world), with virtually all of its members modified in some way. The founders had mostly Nazi ties so it fits that germa66 not only references the nazis but the shocker organization from kamen rider Shocker’s scientists performed surgical alterations that gave the subject superhuman fighting abilities. Even the most basic Shocker soldier was tougher, stronger and faster than the average human civilian. The most powerful of their forces were the Kaijin, modified humans who were combined with animal DNA and human cybernetics to create living weapons. In an attempt to create the ultimate warriors, they were responsible for the rise of the very first Kamen Riders 1 and 2, whom defected and became the heroes who would ultimately lead to the fall of Shocker. and sanji and his siblings were altered genetically and the kamen riders specialty is the kamen rider KICK

both sanjis experience as a child  and duval was a reference to the man in the iron mask .

Though based on a real prisoner in the late 1600’s who Louis XIV forced to always wear a velvet mask to hide his identity and who was made to serve other prisoners, one of the most popular versions of the story is that of Alexandre Dumas, translated into a film in 1998. The prisoner, now shown wearing an iron mask, was Louis XIV’s twin brother  

sanji had encountered the same fate as written in Alexandre DUMAS book (The Vicomte of Bragelonne: Ten Years Later). Declared dead for the country but condemned to wear a mask and to spend all his life in an horrible prison

and louis XIV was known as the sun king and kamen rider black rx is solar powered

and sanjis and zoros rivalry parallels inuarashi and nekomamushis rivalry ( and inuarashi is called the ruler of the day and has a group under him that reference the three musketeers by alexander dumas  (a french story ) and sanji was dressed up as a musketeer and oda said in an sbs that sanji in the real world would be french

porche-chan . tumblr . com/post/134501849916/weve-located-zoros-fashion-twinkie-everyone porche-chan . tumblr . com/post/138118772526/i-made-an-observation-a-while-back-about#notes porche-chan . tumblr . com/post…is-an-imposing-figure?is_related_post=1#notes

both nekomamushi and inuarashi (zoro and sanjis counterparts) losing the precise limb that could incapacitate zoro and sanjis respective fighting styles

about inuarashis similarities to sanji I have to point out that inuarashi has a group that operates under his command called the Inuarashi Musketeer Squad Among them are three minks known as the “Three Inuarashi Musketeers”, The name of the squad is a reference to the novel The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas. a french story and oda stated in an sbs that sanji would be french in the real world

[jiminniethemarshmallow]

Thank You For Your Service III (M)

Pairing: Jimin x royal!reader

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst (if you can call it that)

Word Count: 24k

Warnings: Brief descriptions of a panic attack!, light bondage, over stimulation, squirting, impreg kink, all that stuff

Part 1~ Part 2~ Part 3~ Part 4

The voices in the room are deafening. People shout out in shock, panic, confusion, asking questions from where they have all stood up in order to see their fallen queen. The eyes that aren’t on you are steadfastly watching your father’s reaction and Jimin as he holds onto your dangling body.

“I have her.” His mother informs, knowing that the General in him is telling him to hurry to find the culprit before they escape, and those are the only words she can get out before Jimin reluctantly lets go of you to hunt for your poisoner.

“Doctor!” Just then, a medic arrives with a small bag, immediately ordering your mother-in-law to move you to the floor and give her space to work. She is a stern lady, not much for manners, but no one minds in the interest of saving your life. The look on her face is solid as she checks your vitals, flashing light in your eyes and grunting to herself quietly. One more sharp bark from her and everyone retreats, your father ushering your guests out of the Grand Hall with reassurances and comforting words. But the people don’t buy it and demand to know if you are well, to which he can offer no more aside from a shaky sigh before closing the doors and returning to you.

“As I suspected, she’s ingested some kind of poison. I need a pale.” The older woman states, looking up at your parents-in-law expectantly.

“A pale?”

“Yes, a bucket! Quickly!” They scramble towards the kitchen, ignoring whatever commotion is happening near the far wall of the room and return as quickly as they can, thrusting the bucket into her arms as she positions you onto your knees above it. “She’ll need water, too. And a rag.” The woman mumbles, already in the process of inserting a long wooden stick down your throat. Jimin’s mother rushes to bring all that is necessary, bursting into the kitchen once again and meeting Lilian, who is on her way out.

“What does she need?” Your loyal servant is quick to help, the worry in her eyes almost enough to bring tears to the old woman’s, but they are quickly blinked away.

“Water and a rag.” They search.

“Will this do?” Lilian holds up a pitcher of ice water and a dry dish towel, neither of them bothering to grab a glass, and run back to where you are now leaned on your side, the bucket heavy and pushed several feet away. “Here!”

They watch as the doctor checks your heartbeat from your back, pressing her fingers into your wrist and checking your breathing. Then she grabs a clean glass from the table and pours some water, squeezing in a mysterious solution before nursing it to you, using more of the icy water to dump onto the rag and fasten to your forehead.

“Well?” The King asks nervously, watching his daughter’s whitening complexion and blue lips.

“Her breathing is shallow and her pulse is getting weaker. As we can see by the color of her lips, she is not taking oxygen properly, most likely due to the poison still in her system. Pale!” Lilian grabs the bucket and drops it right in front of your face before you soil the floors, everyone looking away except for the doctor who struggles to hold your heaving body in place.

The moment Jimin leaves you in the care of his mother, his eyes are on the room. Everyone is standing now, trying to crowd around your table, and he knows he must work fast if he is to identify the villain. There is one person in mind, the servant that stood a little too close and waited on you hand and foot from the moment you sat down, and he curses himself when he thinks about it.

This is his worst fear. Everything he has been dreading for the past couple of days. He has been terrified of the thought that the two of you would be put in harms way once you were wed, but he hadn’t cared much for his own wellbeing. He only cared that he would be able to serve and protect you, something that he has succeeded in thus far from a distance, but worried that his ability to do so would be impaired by becoming a King. Choosing between two lives is a hard thing to do— especially when one of those lives, which has been a secret for so long, suddenly is joined with the other. He has never had any trouble watching out for any threats to you as a General of your armies, working from the outside and from afar. And he has never had an issue with advising you and keeping you safe as your lover. But he realizes now that presenting himself as your lover and your guardian is tougher than he could imagine. He got so caught up in being your King and entertaining you and your people that he couldn’t focus enough to assess the possible dangers or suspicious characters around you. And despite having amazing accuracy when it comes to his gut feelings, he chose to ignore it this one time and allowed himself to relax— to become careless— and now you have paid the price for it.

Jimin’s eyes move quickly as they scour the room for the man, hoping that he hasn’t already disappeared into the crowd yet, but then he spots someone with a ducked head weaving his way through the droves of noblemen on his way back to the kitchen. The only person, guest or servant, who is not curious to see what has happened. Immediately his heart jumps, blood pumping as his body moves into action, pushing past nosy nobles far more effectively than the lowly servant, and soon his fellow friends and soldiers catch sight of where he is looking, moving into position to cut him off on his way to the kitchen.

The man looks back to see the new king’s angry expression, skin bristling with fear, and it feels as if the room has gotten exponentially hotter. Like the fires of Hell closing in on him. The noise in the room gets even louder, people being ushered to the door as Jimin makes large strides toward the sure culprit, a path seeming to clear out for him, and the man scrambles to shove his way through, head on a swivel to keep his eye on his pursuer. The kitchen is only a few steps away, the swinging door inches from his fingertips, and Jimin is still a sizable distance from capturing him. Eyes locked on freedom, all he can think about is his escape through those doors and the ease he will have slipping through all of the shortcuts he’s become so acquainted with, losing the guards and the King who only know the paths of the main hallways.

The last person is pushed out of the way and the servant makes a run for it, dodging the hands of the soldiers who reach for him in a last ditch effort to capture him, and then he is through the doors and out of sight. Jimin’s heart falls when he sees this, sprinting faster to close the distance, but just as he is reaching to open the doors, they swing open and a bulky servant, a chef, walks out holding the man by his shoulders.

Grabbing the back of the villain’s neck, your husband grips him tight, yanking him away from his escape to the wall on the farthest side of the room, his soldiers in tow with the scrawny man’s arms locked in their grip. Jimin has tunnel vision now, rage fogging everything but the sight of your offender, and he wants nothing more than to hurt this man. Shoved against the hard polished walls, the criminal now begins to beg and claim innocence, stuttering over his words in an attempt to find a proper explanation.

“I-I haven’t done anything! You have the w-wrong person!” He shrieks, struggling uselessly against the strong hands that incapacitate him.

“Really? Then why was it that you were the only person fleeing?” Jimin sneers, using his forearm to press him harder into the wall.

“He has a weapon.” The guard on the right side of the man reveals, pulling a sharp peeling knife from the man’s waistband, probably a plan B if he ever got into a risky situation during his escape.

“It- That is not what you think. See, I work in the kitchen and I need-“

“You have not been to the kitchen all afternoon, do not try to play me for a fool!” Jimin hisses, muscles bulging with the force he uses to pin him down.

“Okay! Okay! But I would never hurt the Queen. I never intended to harm her!” The servant cries, tears springing from his eyes to add to his testimony as he shakes his head animatedly, and it makes the King sick. He growls deep in his chest, teeth gritting together with hatred, and this time his army-men are reaching to hold him back.

“General Park— Your Highness, you mustn’t cause intentional harm to this man before his questioning. It is the law.” His subordinate reminds gently, prepared to intervene. He watches the tick in Jimin’s jaw, well aware that he probably feels upset that he— of all people— needs to be reminded of the law, but the King’s eyes never leave his captive’s face.

“Yes, please, do not hurt me. I am sure the Queen would not approve of it.” He wavers, shaky and desperate to be free of the piercing eyes burning through him. The mention of you snaps your husband out of his trance, and he growls because how the hell would he know if you’d approve or not, but he still allows the arm digging into your servant’s chest to drop slowly to his side.

“Get him out of my sight.” The two soldiers pull the man away, hastily dragging him out of the Grand Hall to a holding cell, and Jimin follows them with his eyes until they disappear through the exit. Tunnel vision dissipating, he relocates your family on the other side of the room, standing over you with worried looks on their faces. “How is she?” He asks, panting slightly from jogging over, his heart never slowing down and instead speeding up to an unhealthy rate once he sees your ghostly complexion. Everyone remains silent to his question, staring down at you and the doctor.

“She’s been poisoned.” His mother finally answers when the woman tending to you ignores him. His frown deepens.

“Yes, but how is she now?” He tries his best to keep his voice stable, lowering his volume in the sudden quietness of the room. The doctor says nothing for several moments, checking your vitals thoroughly and listening for a heartbeat for a long time. It almost gets to the point where Jimin’s tolerance wears thin at her silence, but your father stops him from speaking. After what seems like an eternity, she looks up and sighs.

“Her pulse is very faint and it was difficult to find, but it is there.” Everyone lets out a breath, but Jimin cannot breathe comfortably yet. “Yes, she was poisoned, but I gave her a solution to expel as much of the poison as possible. For now, we can only hope and wait for her body to take care of whatever was already absorbed into her blood; and her chances look good considering how little she ingested.” Two sips. Just two sips of champagne and you are in such terrible condition. He does not want to think about what would have happened if you were to drink even a sip more.

“When-“ He swallows, almost afraid to ask. “When will she awake?”

“It is difficult to tell, it all depends on her body and how much poison was in her drink. All we can do for her now is get her out of this dress to help her breathe easier and take her up to rest.”

He volunteers to carry you, picking you up bridal style and taking you gently to your bedroom. This is not how he imagined it happening, and though the situation shows similarities to how he has always pictured taking you from your wedding, dress and all, everything is completely wrong.

It is a serene and quiet day at the castle, the only sounds audible being the subsiding rain knocking at your window. The rain brings a coolness that makes you want to burrow in your sheets, but there is a warmth at your back that keeps the chill away, which you gladly welcome. The first thing you see when you open your eyes is a plain wall, painted in your favorite shade of sunset orange, the color made dull by the haziness in your eyes. Like a fog sitting over your head, you can barely see, taking several long minutes to focus your eyes. Once it clears, you slowly turn your head—wincing at the crick in your neck— and gradually scan the room, finding your mother-in-law at the foot of your bed reading a book in the comfortable seat that is usually in the corner of your room. Redirecting your eyes to that corner, you spot boxes of belongings— Jimin’s belongings— still unopened and packed neatly aside for his relocation into your bedroom. You smile at the thought: he can finally share this space with you, sleep in the same bed without worry of being caught, keep you company on rough nights where the loneliness is overwhelming and you simply need a hand to hold to get you through the night. Turning a bit further, you locate the source of the heat behind you, finding the love of your life napping with a protective arm around your midsection, hand just under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin.

How lucky you are to have married him, to have the luxury of being able to spend your life with this man and start a family with him. King and Queen. You and Jimin. Thoughts of your wedding light up your heart as you recall the lovely reception, the beautiful décor, your unique wedding dress, the wonderful guests that came to support you and offer their love and congratulations, the wedding night you cannot seem to remember. In fact, you don’t remember anything after your father made his toast to the two of you. You remember the gifts, the food, the toast, but nothing about your first night as a married couple, nothing about spending the rest of the evening in Jimin’s arms, not even how you ending up in bed in the first place. You think hard, watching your husband’s face as if the answers were written there, and it is then that you notice the bags draped under his eyes, the pale color of his skin likely from not eating, the restless look on his face even as he sleeps.

As if your body had somehow remembered what happened on its own, you are suddenly alerted to the extreme dryness in your throat, so dry that when you try to swallow, you instead fall into a sudden coughing spell that catches the attention of everyone in the room. In the blink of an eye Jimin jolts awake, rubbing at your back as his mother runs to your side with a glass of cool water, putting it to your lips and helping you drink as you fight the mini convulsions in your chest.

“Lilian, send for the doctor!” Jimin calls when the servant rushes to your door, immediately turning on her heel to follow his orders. “Drink slowly, my love, you need to breathe.” By now he has helped you into a proper sitting position, hands never leaving you as you alternate between drinking and deep breaths, his mother refilling your glass when you have emptied it.

“It is such a relief to see that you are awake, dear.” The older woman says quietly, giving you her fondest smile when your breathing seems to calm down a bit. “You had us worried sick.”

The stern doctor from before strolls into your room just after you have finished your second glass, followed by an anxious looking Lilian who hesitates to rush the woman. “I see you are awake,” is all she says as she takes her time opening the bag she carries and removing a few instruments. Jimin watches her with a sharp eye, already irritated by her relaxed demeanor when he feels she should treat this situation with a little more urgency. But he says nothing the entire time she examines you, checking your eyes, reflexes, mouth and tongue, and pulse. At least she seems thorough. She nods to herself when she is finished, once again not speaking until prompted as if she intended to keep the information to herself.

“Is she well?” Lilian asks impatiently, looking just as annoyed as Jimin. The doctor ignores her, talking directly to you.

“Your health has improved significantly, I am almost surprised.” She says with a flat face and voice. “It looks like the poison has run its course and is mostly out of your system now, so there is no need to worry.” Poison?

“Thank the heavens.” Your mother-in-law whispers, letting out a sigh of relief.

“So... she is alright?” You husband nearly whispers as if afraid his voice could change her answer. For the first time, the lady looks him in the eyes, confirming that you are alright in a mockingly sweet voice that makes his blood boil.

“Yes, Your Highness. As I have just said, your wife is quite alright.” Despite her insolence, she does not get reprimanded, the good news enough to hold the general’s temper, and you feel his arms hug you tighter.

“I knew she would be alright, I could tell she was strong from the moment I met her.” Your second mother says aloud to no one in particular, her soothing smile relaxing both you and Jimin.

“I knew it too, I prayed as often as possible for her health. I am so happy things worked out.” Lilian gushes as she holds back tears.

“Am I allowed to walk around?” You ask, feeling an ache in your back and hips. The woman looks at you as if you have just put a hex on her entire family, showing the only expression Jimin has seen from her thus far. Her hand lands on your leg from her spot on the edge of your bed and she leans in with seriousness, squinting at you.

“Absolutely not. Do not even leave this bed without consulting me first.” She leans away slightly, loosening her grip on your thigh. “I prescribe bedrest and plenty of food and water. You are still very weak and you need time for your body to regain its strength after working so hard to rid itself of the poison. You were unconscious for nearly 5 days, your recovery should not be rushed.” It has been five days since your wedding? This detail shocks you so much that you can’t even speak at first, looking at her dumbly with wide eyes. You want to ask what exactly happened, but you fear that the woman will tell you in a way that distresses you, so you hold your tongue for now.

“Oh! That reminds me!” Lilian exclaims, scurrying out of your quarters toward the kitchen.

“Could I at least move to use the toilet?” You say meekly, looking over toward your bathroom area with a blush as you realize Lilian has probably had to take care of you while you were out. You can imagine Jimin wanting to help, but having to fake hot cheeks and shyness as if he has never seen you naked before and wants to be courteous of your privacy. The thought is almost funny considering just how intimately he knows your body— certainly better than Lilian does.

“You should not walk, you legs are too feeble. Instead, you should be lifted there and helped the entire time. Your husband seems capable, he behaves like a servant anyway.” Your eyebrows raise at her rude comment toward her new king, seemingly having no regard for his position of power, and you squeeze his hand in yours when you feel him take a breath to speak. He is used to dealing with insubordination as a general in the military, handling it as the King would be no different. But your touch restricts him.

“Is that all?” Jimin inquires, visibly trying his best not to sound too harsh when he asks the doctor to leave. She gives you a quick look up and down then nods, already packing up her things and standing from your bedside. “Then you are dismissed.” The curt tone in his voice goes over the woman’s head as she walks out, bidding you a good evening before shutting the door.

With just the three of you left in the room again, Jimin’s mother senses oncoming awkwardness. She can sense the way her son drops his guard and seems to sink, how his eyes begin to twinkle with the beginnings of wetness, and she knows she will ruin the moment if she does not leave now. With her watch duty being over upon your waking, she no longer has business in your room and she exits swiftly, mumbling something about helping Lilian in the kitchen, grabbing her book on her way out.

As soon as the door shuts behind her, you are pulled into strong arms. He lays back until you are both comfortable in bed, your face in his chest and his in your hair as he holds you in silence for a while. It feels good to be in his arms, neither of you saying anything but simply basking in each other’s warmth.

“I am so sorry.” Your King finally breathes, the shaky quality of his voice surprising you. He rarely lets you see the emotional side of him and you appreciate his transparency in this moment as tears slide down onto your shoulder. “It is all my fault.”

“Do not say that. There is no way you could have known something like this would happen, Jimin.” You try to reassure him, but you still don’t know what happened yourself.

“But it is my duty to protect you and I failed. I failed you just hours after you became my wife.” He squeezes you tighter and you rub his back, weak arms wrapped loosely around him.

“Tell me everything that happened. I want to know.” You mumble into his chest quietly, waiting for his response. He seems to tense at the realization that you have no idea what happened to you or what went on after you collapsed, and he takes a deep breath as the past few days replay in his mind.

“During our reception, my champagne glass was poisoned by a servant, and when you switched our glasses, you accidentally drank the poison and went unconscious.” He pulls back to watch your eyes widen at the news that the poison was intended for him.

“Do you... do you know who did it?” You ask, afraid that his attempted assassin may still be on the loose.

“Do not worry, I caught him before he could even escape the room and he was arrested promptly.”

“Yes, but who was it?” Your mind races to all of the names and faces of your servants, wondering who would have a motive to kill Jimin. Jimin is loved by nearly everyone in the kingdom, your servants were especially thrilled to hear that you were getting married to him, so it comes as a shock to you that anyone would go as far as attempting to poison him. You wait with bated breaths as you anticipate the name of your poisoner, heart thumping loudly in your chest with dread.

“His name is Jang Jinwoo.” Your heart stops. Not Jinwoo, the sweet man who worked in the kitchen and greeted you every time he had a chance. There have been many occasions where you had snuck away from your duties to roam the many rooms of your home and you found yourself stopping to chat with him as he completed his work. Despite being almost 10 years older than you, you got along very well with him. He was always kind, smiling brightly at you, easy to talk to. You can’t imagine that he was the one to do such a thing.

“Jinwoo? A-Are you sure?” You stutter out, not believing your ears.

“(Y/n), he has already confessed.”

“Are you absolutely certain? He could have been pressured to say something like that. Maybe he was only following orders from someone else, or maybe he was being paid to do it.” You continue to make up excuses for the man, looking at Jimin as he solemnly shakes his head at you.

“No, none of that is true. I heard it from his own mouth, (Y/n), I was the one who interrogated him.” At this you stop, looking down at your sheets. There is anger present when Jimin speaks, though it is not directed at you. He is enraged by the memory of the interrogation, having to sit there and listen to the whimpering of a coward who tried desperately to explain his case. Trying to weasel his way out of punishment. “He told me everything.”

The room is musty and dank when Jimin enters, the darkness of the cell only alleviated by a few lanterns hanging toward the back of the small space. Jinwoo sits uncomfortably on a stool at the back wall, hands bound and feet shackled to his seat with chains. Two guards stand on either side of Jimin, there as backup in case anything should happen, but they know Jimin is versed in the art of interrogation from his many years in military service. He sits on a much more comfortable chair than the prisoner, one that has taller legs and a back where he can rest comfortably, and he takes his time looking the prisoner up and down with steel eyes, leaning into his seat as if he owned the room.

“As stated by law, I am not allowed to touch you, but as a prisoner who has committed the highest treason, I am sure I would be excused for my action should you give me any reason to engage you.” The intimidation has already begun and it works beautifully, Jinwoo sinking lower on his stool under the heavy gaze of the king. “Now, things would be a lot easier if you confessed to your crimes right now, but we already know that you are the one who did it. We found the poison in a tube in your coats and seized the weapon you carried in your waistband, which is enough to incriminate you. However,” Jimin leans in menacingly, cold eyes pressing the prisoner back. “I want to know why you did it. The only reason I have left my wife’s bedside to come down here and face such filth as you is to hear from your own mouth what would possibly push you to do such a thing.”

The man says nothing, bags forming under his eyes as he looks away, sadness overtaking his features. “Is she alive?”

“You would like to know the status of the Queen?” Jimin states quietly, earning a meek nod from the prisoner. There is a pause of stillness before a guard steps in front of Jimin just as he seems like he will lunge at the man, standing and growling out how he has no right to ask questions like that. The shackled man cowers.

“Your Highness.” The other guard calls sharply, his hand on his shoulder to guide him back into his seat. “Yes, the Queen is alive.” He answers, much to Jimin’s displeasure.

“Oh God,” Jinwoo breaks down, hands coming up to his face as tears start to stream down his cheeks. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, I never meant to hurt her!” He weeps into his palms, barely mumbling loud enough for the others to hear.

“Why did you do it, then? Why would you try to assassinate her?”

“Not her, you!” The servant suddenly shouts, looking Jimin dead in the eyes for the first time. “You were the one whose glass was poisoned, not hers. But no one could have known she would switch them at the last second— I did not even have time to react.” He is reduced to tears again and the three men watching him ponder his words. Guilt washes over Jimin like a bucket of ice water and he starts to feel weak. This is exceptionally worse. It was he who was meant to fall ill to the poison; his life that should be hanging on a thread instead of yours. It feels like a jab to the gut knowing that not only did he fail to protect you, but that he is the one who indirectly put you in this situation to begin with.

It is silent for the next few minutes, Jimin watching the man sob at his own misfortune with no other thoughts running through his head but those of self-deprecation. But he must press on. He waits until Jinwoo calms down enough to speak before resuming his questioning. “Why did you aim to kill me?” His voice is softer now, though still commanding, and his face is genuinely curious.

Jinwoo stares down at his knees before speaking, his voice now void of emotion. “I would have to start from the beginning for you to be able to understand that.”

“That is why I have appeared before you today. I want to know the whole story.” The men stare at each other for a long while, tension swelling between them as Jinwoo takes on a stubborn attitude, almost as if he felt that the King was not fit to know his story. When Jimin does not back down from his narrowed gaze, he sighs, contemplating for a moment before opening his mouth to speak.

“Well, it all seems quite silly now.” He chuckles humorlessly, eyes dropping to the floor.

“What is?” Jimin implores, becoming impatient.

“Well, I have been a servant here for more than half of my life. My mother had me hired when I was barely 15 to make earnings to support my family, and I did just that, working for nobles I had never even seen before. I lived in the background, feeling unimportant as I cleaned dishes and emptied trash in that godawful backroom for years, no direction in life, just a workhorse for the family I never got to see. Then, my family home was consumed by fire in the night and everyone I worked so hard to support perished; the only people that gave me a purpose in live, vanished into thin air.

“I had no home and nowhere to go, a man in his early twenties with no skills in life but dishwashing and table setting, and I was so lost— depressed, lonely, homeless— but the King was generous enough to let me stay here and work, offering me quarters in the lower levels.”

“Does this story have a point?” Jimin interrupts, bored already with the autobiography that seemingly had nothing to do with him becoming an attempted murderer.

“You asked for me to tell you everything, Your Highness.” He mocks just to see Jimin’s blood boil. “The King’s generosity was appreciated, but I still had no purpose or reason to live. But then one day, I stumbled upon his young daughter walking the halls, dressed in her formal attire and obviously meant to be elsewhere. She looked so beautiful then, with her curious doe eyes and rosy cheeks, and when she stopped to talk to me I felt as if the world had stopped around me.” He says dreamily, remembering how you looked in your early teens, just beginning puberty and showing your defiance by skipping etiquette classes and sneaking snacks from the kitchen. “We quickly became friends and over the years I watched her mature into a gorgeous young woman with a heart of gold, one that she showed only to me. I rarely saw her even talk to other servants, I was the only one. We had something special. She went missing for a short while when her mother passed, but when she returned to me she was more radiant than ever, a queen that I had grown to love— and I could tell she loved me as well. I realized then that this was my purpose in life. She was my purpose, and I was meant to be with her no matter what.”

Jimin’s eyebrows scrunch at this. Never had you even mentioned Jinwoo to him, and it was his understanding that you had a good relationship with most of the servants of your castle, not just him. A sick feeling settles in his stomach when he imagines it: a grown man pining after a naïve preteen who had simply showed him a little kindness in passing. He watches as the man becomes increasingly more impassioned as he continues.

“If I had the chance, I would have proposed to her as soon as I found out that she was looking to marry. I saw men from all over attempt to court her, but none of them succeeded because she only had eyes for me. She loved me!” His outburst causes him to pause and regather himself, closing his eyes and grumbling quietly to himself before speaking up again. “I was confident that they would all fail— and they did— and then I would have my chance to be with My Queen forever. She disliked everyone, no one could ever compare to me in her heart, I knew this. I knew she was reserving a place for me. So you can imagine my disgust when it was announced that you were the one who would become her king. It was impossible, I thought that she only accepted you for your riches, but then I discovered that you were not wealthy. I do not know what deception you used or empty promises you made to trick her into marrying you, but I was sure she was not doing it for love.”

“That is where you are wrong.” Jimin sighs easily, watching the prisoner frown. “I did not court her like the others. I never appeared before her or the King with gifts and a proposal promising wealth or anything else of the sort. She came to me, if only by chance, and she fell in love on her own terms. I even encouraged her to find someone else, but she insisted that her heart lies with me and that there would be no other. In fact, she was the one who proposed that we be wed, and she spent weeks begging her father on my behalf. So, contrary to your beliefs, she was only doing it for love.”

Jinwoo scoffs, but does not refute it, beginning again quietly. “I thought that the engagement was strictly business and I paid you no mind for the three weeks leading up to your wedding. I was sure that her heart was mine, hopeful that she would come back for me and profess her love. I was willing to keep our relationship a secret for as long as necessary just so I could have her, but I was wrong. Everyday last week there was an event, and the two of you were inseparable. I thought she was just an amazing actress and could pretend to love you in front of crowds, but even when you were alone, I saw her holding your hand, kissing you, being in love with you. It made me sick to witness it, but I held onto hope that it was all fake, that the woman who had given me purpose and a will to live would return to me.

“The last straw was when I saw you just two nights ago, while I was washing dishes in a back room. It was almost like I could feel her near me, sense her presence, and when I turned around, there she was, illuminated by the light like an angel, passing slowly by the doorway. There was no reason for her to be on that side of the castle, especially on a night like that, and for once I believed that the heavens had finally shined down upon me and granted me my wish. But then I saw you behind her, holding her hand.” He looks up at the King slowly, hatred flooding his irises, and it is almost enough to make a shiver crawl down his spine despite having encountered greater evils than this. “I could not contain my anger, I wanted to attack you right then and there, but I quickly remembered that you are an army man who could easily overpower me, so I held back. My hands were shaking so much that I dropped the plates I was cleaning, and my heart was aching so much that I did not care.

“That is what was so silly, General. My life is the punchline!” He chuckles again, answering Jimin’s question from earlier. “She does not love me, she was never going to come back for me to begin with! What I thought was the meaning of my life was all a lie. And it is all because of you!” A deranged look enters his face as he continues to laugh, tears spilling out of his eyes as he does so. The two guards look at each other nervously over Jimin’s head, wondering if they should do something about him, but Jimin seems composed so they wait it out with him. Jinwoo’s laughter dies down quickly, replaced by an empty look in his eyes. “It was then that I decided I wanted to kill you. You must understand, I did this out of love. It is all because I love her so very much that I could not stand to see her be with someone else. Not even if that person makes her smile more brilliantly than I have ever seen. She belongs with me and I would be a fool to just give her away to someone else.”

“So where did you get the poison?” Jimin ponders, wanting to finish this quickly after hearing how delusional this man really was.

“A street vendor sold it to me. I bought it that same night I saw the two of you together. I was still hesitant about going through with my plan during the reception, but when I saw you kiss her and the love in her eyes when she looked at you, I knew that I had no choice but to do it. It is a potent mixture, strong enough to put down a bull, and I poisoned your champagne with nearly half the vile. I did not expect it to be so fast acting, I hoped you would not feel the effects until after you had gone through the entire glass, but I suppose I am thankful that was not the case or else my beloved would not still be living.” He shows shame then, his eyes back on the ground, and seeing him look remorseful throws fuel into Jimin’s fire again. “As I said, I never meant to harm her, she is the entire world to me. When you see her, please tell (Y/n) I’m-“

“Do not say her name.” Your husband hisses with an aggression that even startles his fellow guards. “I do not owe you any favors- in fact, you are lucky I am letting you live now. If it were up to me, you would have been beheaded before the sun went down tonight. But soon you will be sentenced by the High Court and you will be punished justly.” He makes his exit hastily, followed by his comrades that unshackle Jinwoo and lock him in his cell securely.

“So you see, he did this because of me. And I had a gut feeling that something would happen and I did nothing about it. I was not cautious enough and it is because of that that you drank poison from my glass and nearly died.” Jimin practically whispers, holding back more tears. You take in all that he has told you, thinking hard for a moment before smiling gently.

“Then, it is my understanding that I saved your life, correct?” You state proudly, looking into his widened eyes.

“W-What?” He’s confused by your sudden conclusion, not sure what he expected you to say.

“You love champagne and have a tendency to drink quickly. Had I not taken the glass from you, you would have gulped down the poison and perished right before my eyes, therefore, I saved your life. If two tiny sips had the ability to do this to me, I do not even want to think of what would have happened to you if I had not come to the rescue.” You’re grinning cockily now, watching your lover mull over your words.

“Yes, but... had I been more vigilant, this would not have happened. I was an ignorant fool for letting my guard down and I do not deserve to-“

“Stop insulting my husband. You have no right to say such things about him.” You interrupt, giving him a stern look and watching as his eyebrows smooth out with surprise. “You know better than to spew nonsense from that handsome mouth of yours. You are a King, not a superhuman; there is no way you could have known things would end up this way.”

“My love,” He sniffles, eyes welling with tears again. “I cannot help but feel guilty. My top priority as a King is to protect my Queen. I have devoted my life to serving and protecting you from harm, yet I was the one who nearly got you killed.” Your hand raises to his cheek, wiping away a tear as it hesitantly makes its way down to his chin.

“And I thank you for your service, but as a married couple, we must protect each other. I know how important it is for you to be there to save everyone, but it is okay to let me watch over you too sometimes. Let me be your hero for once. It, too, is my duty to look out for you and save you from harm, even if I must save you from yourself at times.” His bottom lip quivers and you can’t help but reach up and kiss it, admiring how soft they are even in their chapped state. “And look, I am fine. I am still here with you, breathing and alive, am I not? I think this is the best way this situation could have turned out.”

He says nothing after this, eyes roaming your face and the happy smile that scrunches your features, taking in every single centimeter of your expression to burn it into his memory. He’s seen it countless times— your smile, that is— yet he feels as if he’d taken each one of those times for granted. Seeing you lay expressionless for the past 5 days without knowing if you would regain consciousness was terrifying for him and the one thing that kept running through his head was the thought of not being able to see you smile again. Oh, how he missed it. Now, he appreciates your grin even more, overjoyed to be able to see it once more, but he does not understand how you can smile after learning the circumstances that landed you here. But, he has always known you to be optimistic.

After holding each other for a little while longer, you feel as though you should try to return to normalcy to relieve some of the tension in the air. Looking up at him, you take in his tired face and drooping eyes, frowning at the sight. “You look terrible.” You mumble, eyebrows knit together.

“You do not look so glamorous yourself, My Queen.” He shoots back with a playful raise of his eyebrow, although he thinks you still look absolutely gorgeous for someone who has just been in a coma.

Lilian reenters with a knock holding a tray of food, announcing that there is a plate for Jimin, who has refused to eat while you were recovering. She takes her time setting up, helping you sit against your headboard and sitting down your plates.

“As your wife,” You proudly proclaim, feeling bubbles of joy build in your chest at the realization. “It is also my duty to worry about your health. Have you been taking care of yourself, My King?” At the squint of your eyes, Jimin blushes. Whether from the term of endearment or the adorable look on your face, he does not know.

“Hardly.” Lilian replies under her breath with a snicker, recalling how she nagged Jimin to take care of his own needs and even offering to help as his own servant now, but being flatly rejected and sent away each time. He glares at her from the side of his eye at her chuckling, silencing her quickly.

“As of late, no. I have been too busy looking after you.”

“Unacceptable. How do you expect to look after me if your own body is not taken care of, hm? Have you eaten? You look pale.”

“I have not had the stomach to eat these few days.” He admits, assuring you that he is fine, but at the mention of food his stomach growls loudly, causing you to giggle.

“Well, I am awake and well now, so you have no more excuses. Heavens, if I did not know better, I would think it were me who has to nurse you back to health.” You laugh, Lilian joining in with a shake of her head as she situates food in front of both of you. The atmosphere is amazingly light, you cracking jokes and doting on Jimin whenever you get the chance, and he has to say that this is very different from what he expected. He thought that you would be a little more upset with everything that went on, but you seem fine. As if nothing happened and everything is as it should be. But he understands that you may not want to stress yourself out at this moment, so he plays along while keeping a watchful eye on you.

Visitors began appearing in your room the next day after news of your awakening spread throughout the land. Your father spent almost the entire afternoon with you for the first time since your mother’s death, and though he never said it, you know he was terrified of losing you too. Other visitors included your closest servants, each of them bringing with them gifts and promises to take care of your every need while you are recovering, both of Jimin’s parents (his father shedding more happy tears when he sees you are okay), a few family friends that lived nearby, and your best friend Seokjin. Slowly, they began to fill you in on the happenings of your kingdom, informing you that everything remains stable despite you and Jimin’s absence since your father has taken up some of the responsibilities that needed immediate attention.

Upon hearing that Jimin had missed nearly all of his first meetings as a royal because of you, you start to feel guilty and urge him to leave you to take care of his duties. Becoming a King takes training, and you don’t want him to slack off just because you are ill.

“It is fine, My love. Everything can be postponed.”

“But these are important attendances that will set up the rest of your rule over this land. You must meet with neighboring nations and the powerful nobles of our own kingdom, go to your classes to learn law and etiquette, address our people-“

“Do not concern yourself with such trifles. Everything is taken care of.” Jimin whispers, kissing your knuckles when he takes you by the hand. He can sense how useless you feel, wanting to live vicariously through him by listening to him explaining his first errands as a King, but instead he has been with you whenever he can, both of you becoming bored in your room.

“I am the one who is bedridden, not you.”

You begin looking for anything to do that is of importance, noticing how everyone seems to keep you out of the loop on bigger issues that may cause you any stress. The doctor said to avoid anything that may cause your blood pressure to rise, but being ignored as if you were not the queen of this nation is having the opposite effect. Not even Jimin will tell you things that he knows, and you know he is kept up-to-date on any and all drama within your borders because of his new title, and you are starting to feel betrayed because of the secrecy surrounding you. But you know who to get information out of, and that is exactly who you aim for once you are left alone with him.

“Seokjin,” You call sweetly in between his exaggerated stories about something shiny he has acquired from a neighboring nation. “What is the status of Jinwoo’s trial?” You know to present it as if you already know something about it, though you aren’t even sure if he has stood trial yet, but Seokjin’s answer confirms this.

“His trial? That ended yesterday, if I am correct.” He replies without even looking up from the jewelry he seems obsessed with that hangs from his neck.

“Has the High Court made a decision yet?” He looks up at you then, and you get nervous, fidgeting in your spot on your bed. “It’s just that I have not been caught up fully on the proceedings. Everyone has seemed so busy lately.”

“Hmm, yes. Then you must not have heard. The High Court has made the decision to convict him of high treason for the attempted murder of the King, but they have not sentenced him yet.” He stops playing with his accessories, looking seriously at you in a way that makes your heart speed up. “They have agreed that since you are the Queen, and also a victim, they will leave it up to you to sentence the criminal to a punishment. You may discuss it with them, but the decision is ultimately yours.”

Your heart skips a beat at this, the weight of the words settling in your chest, and you sigh. This is what you wanted, right? To have something meaningful to do instead of rotting away in this bed, correct? But this is almost overwhelming. Jinwoo’s sentencing is easily the most important thing happening in your kingdom right now, and it makes sense for it to be decided so soon— they can’t keep him in a holding cell forever— but you are not completely sure you are ready for it. This is probably why no one has told you about it yet.

“Oh,” Is all you can say, unable to keep your face straight in front of your friend. He sees the furrow of your eyebrows and realizes his mistake, moving closer to you to put a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“But do not worry, (Y/n), the High Court is willing to wait until you are healthy again before they make the public announcement. That means you have time to think about it, so please try not to stress yourself out too much over this.” His words are reassuring, but you’re beginning to feel like a burden, so you put on a brave face and make up your mind.

“No, I must do it quickly,” You declare, although your words to him are nothing official. “A trial such as this one should be quick and final, yet it has already been almost a week. I should make my decision within the next few days.”

“With respect, Your Highness, but do not be rash. Take the time that has been given to you, there is no need to rush.”

“Then do you think I should wait another week before this man knows his fate? To put the biggest case in this kingdom’s recent history on hold just because I will not be able to appear in full health?” You challenge.

“I think it would be unnecessary and quite impulsive to rush into such a big decision. The man is a criminal who tried to kill your husband and you are worried about the amount of suspense and anxiety he will feel after waiting in his cell for a week?” He scoffs. “All I am willing to say is that the most important person here is you, and your health and needs take top priority over all else. It is entirely your decision, but do not be afraid to be selfish. Take it from me, the most narcissistic person you know.”

Leave it to Seokjin to give you an honest answer. You do not discuss the topic any further, thinking of his words even after he leaves, and you keep everything to yourself when Jimin returns from his meeting with your father. He is unaware that you now know the weight of your responsibility, but he can see it pulling on your face, tired lines appearing under your eyes, so he makes sure you receive no more visitors before tending to you and helping you to bed early.

It is not until the third day after waking up that you are formally told about the sentencing, two days since Seokjin had informed you of it, and you announce to the members of the High Court that you are ready with your judgment. The older men seem surprised when you say this, staring at your frail body in your wheelchair as you confidently state that you want to address Jinwoo as soon as possible. Jimin is just as shocked as the others when he hears this, trying to convince you to take time to think about it, just as Seokjin had, but in the end you remained steadfast in your words. That night, you discussed your options and made a final decision that you were confident in. It was settled, you would sentence Jinwoo publicly tomorrow afternoon.

Despite wanting to support you, Jimin was concerned. You seemed happy as always, as if nothing was wrong, but he knew that you must be hiding your true emotions. As a General, he has brought in many prisoners and seen many trials, and the sentencing is never easy. The person who makes the final decision is never happy, even if the person deserves what is coming to them, and even he could feel the heaviness of holding that power every time he witnessed it. This was not supposed to be easy on you, especially since the punishment would almost certainly be one of the harshest ones you could give, but you showed zero signs of dread. At least not outwardly. He kept a close watch on you, giving you many opportunities to talk to him about what you may be feeling, but you repeatedly told him that you were fine, the same smile crossing your lips every time. But at night, he could tell you could not sleep, and he held you extra tight in silent comfort.

Silver lighting streams into the courtroom from the high windows, almost like a spotlight illuminating the platform on which your offender will stand. People sit in rows on all sides of the room, watching the proceedings from their mahogany benches as if this were a theatre performance. The members of the High Court enter first, taking their seats behind a raised panel on the north facing wall of the room, looming over the people like vultures. Jinwoo is the next to enter the packed room, walking with tiny steps and a lowered head as the people around him begin to murmur, all with cold eyes following him all the way to his stand. There is a long pause as guards begin to line the entrance, commanding all of your people to rise before a trumpeter begins blowing out the short royal tune.

“All rise, for the entrance of His and Her Majesty.” You cannot help the flood of anxiety that washes over you when the door opens for you. This is your first time appearing in front of your people as King and Queen, and although you have stood before your kingdom on many occasions, the spotlight has never been on you like it is now. A guard pushes your wheelchair forward and into the courtroom, and immediately the temperature feels stifling. Your palms sweat when you come into view, your eyes landing on the man standing at the center of the room— the man you believed was a sweet servant with not a single bad intention in his heart, your friend of many years— and you begin to feel sick. Not from guilt, but from disgust. Facing him for the first time after the incident is harder than you thought it would be. Anger builds up in your throat when he looks at you with pleading eyes, as if he could appeal to a more sensitive side of you, but all it does is make you want to be all the more ruthless.

“Are you okay, my love?” Jimin whispers from where he walks beside you. He has noticed the way you have been staring down the culprit and how tightly you grip the arms of your chair, and it worries him just slightly. His own rage has not subsided toward the man, but he is more concerned about you in this moment. You nod, eyes finally shifting to the faces in the crowd, and even though the room is quiet, you can see people whispering to each other, a look of pity on their faces as they gaze upon you. This is one of the reasons you wanted to rush this appearance— to face your people while you were still fragile and in need of assistance. Traditionally, a royal is encouraged to put on the strongest image possible when confronting the kingdom, but you wanted them to see how you truly looked and empathize with you and your king. Not that they were not already on your side.

Taking one of your hands, the two of you complete your journey to your designated spots, looking down at the room with unreadable eyes. The air is tense surrounding you, the heat remaining stationary instead of its usual swirling, and you can tell by the sweat on his brow that it feels like the 9th circle of Hell for Jinwoo.

“As it is quite hot here, we will proceed quickly for Her Majesty’s good health.” The old man seated next to you declares with a projecting voice that startles you. It has begun. “After concluding the trial this week, the punishment for the crimes of Jang Jinwoo have been determined. He has been imprisoned following his confession to the attempted murder of King Park Jimin and the accidental poisoning of the Queen, as well as the unauthorized possession of a weapon around royalty during a public event. The consequences of his crimes have been discussed and finalized by the Queen herself, who will now announce her decision.”

All eyes fall onto you, and the anxiety in your chest dissolves almost instantly as you lock gazes with the man in the center of the room again. His chest heaves as he looks at you, seeming so incredibly nervous that it’s almost laughable, and you fight the scowl that inches onto your lips. Unable to stand properly, you sit up straighter, taking a moment to gather your thoughts and hold suspense, everyone watching you with wrapt attention. Jimin’s hand covers your own as it rests on your knee, and it gives you the strength to speak.

“Jang Jinwoo, you are the most wretched human being I have ever encountered on this earth.” The room is taken aback by your words, never having heard you speak in such a hateful way. “You claim to have acted over the influence of love, but the choices you have made in this life are solely of your own will. Not only have you physically harmed me, but you have scarred this nation and the people I hold dearest to my heart. You turned what would have been the happiest day of my life thus far into a day that my husband and I will look at forever as a day of uneasiness and terror. A day where the kingdom almost lost its matriarch before her rule had even begun. As for the physical aspect of your actions, I believe you should know the struggles I have been forced to endure this past week. First, I slipped into a coma that lasted for nearly five days and nights, during which my other faithful servants were forced to care for me as if I were a newborn baby. After awaking, I found myself weak and unable to care for myself still, bound to the confines of my bed like a prisoner chained within a cell— the only times I was allowed to leave being when I was carried to the toilet or bath where I had to be helped without pause.” The tears start to flow over Jinwoo’s cheeks at the mention of your struggles, the only other emotion he has shown in days aside from the embarrassment of being displayed in a courtroom. “In these days I lost my dignity as a self-assured Queen, one who always was too proud to use her servants and instead did everything on my own will. Because of you, I must swallow pills and vitamins several times a day to rid myself of the effects of your poison. Because of you, my husband nor I could complete the duties expected of a new King and Queen. And because of you, I could not spend my first days as a married woman happily like I had so dreamed of.”

He is openly sobbing now, shame and guilt sitting heavy on his shoulders as his tears drip to the floor. You wished he would stop pretending like he is sorry for what he did because you know he is not; he is only sorry about the effect his actions had on you. If he had succeeded in his plans and killed Jimin, you have no doubt that you would not have seen a shred of guilt on his face as he stood before you. His eyes drop to the ground as you go on, listing the hardships you have gone through and how hurt you were to see your family look so scared and worried on your behalf, but you want him to look into your eyes and truly hear what you are saying to him.

“Look at me!” You command, a bass coming into your voice that surprises even you. All of the spectators have tears in their eyes from listening to your story, and you know you have their support. But when Jinwoo looks up at you, you hesitate a little. He looks so genuinely sorry for you just like everyone else, and your mind flashes back to the man you befriended all those years ago. An empathetic, sensitive man who was so good at listening to your problems even when he could not relate. But then his eyes move ever so slightly to the man sitting next to you with his hand in yours and his eyes turn icy again. He and Jimin stare at each other for what feels like an eternity before you repeat your command, and all hesitance drains from your body once again. “Although your right to speak has been stripped from you, I will give you one more chance to appeal to me. I would like to hear the words from your own mouth before I give you your final sentencing.”

The members of the High Court and Jimin all turn to you, shocked that you would do such a thing at the last moment. The rules state that a criminal facing sentencing is not allowed to address superiors in any way while on the stand, especially not before his punishment is announce, yet you have just given him the grounds to do exactly that.

“Your Highness, you must not let him appeal-“ The old man immediately to your right begins, but you stop him.

“There is no way in Hell that he could ever change my mind, no matter what he says. You can be sure of that.” You whisper, giving Jimin’s hand a squeeze when his eyes linger on your profile, your straight face telling him that you are completely certain. “Speak.”

“I never held any intentions of hurting you and my mistake is the biggest regret of my life, you must know that. My love for you is greater than anything else in this world and I would do anything for you. This is why I beg of you,” Spectators murmur words of disgust at his words, their faces wrinkled in hate and disbelief, but yours remains plain. “My Queen,” The pitiful man snivels with a tremor in his voice, “please execute me. What I have done is unforgivable and I cannot live in good conscience with my deeds. Please.”

His twinkling eyes search yours, hoping that you could feel his sincerity through the thick air. It is quiet for a while before you let out a long sigh.

“That is exactly why I cannot pardon you from this earth. That would be far too easy. I sentence you 100 years in prison to reflect upon your choices and relive the guilt you feel now everyday for the rest of your life.” Your face remains blank, but a tornado of emotions rages behind the mask. If he had aimed to take your life instead, maybe you would have been more lenient. But since he intended to take from you the person that means the most to you in this world, damning you to a life of sorrow and loneliness, you cannot let him off so easily. You need him to understand that what he attempted to do would have caused much more damage than he’d realize, and now he had all the time in the world to think about it.

His face falls at the sudden news, none of what you have said sinking in until it is announced that your word is final and that he will serve his time beginning immediately after he leaves the court. People around the room gasp and sigh, some of them cheering at his punishment and others complaining that you should have put him to death. You look at Jimin and he immediately reads the exhaustion in your expression, motioning to a guard that it is time to make your exit.

“No. No! My Queen, please! I do not deserve it. I do not deserve to live on this earth with you! Have mercy! Take my life!” He begins to shout, guards holding him back as he struggles against his shackles desperately like a caged animal.

“You do not deserve my mercy.” You say calmly, finally allowing your guard to roll you out of the room, Jinwoo’s voice still echoing behind the door amidst the chaos slowly engulfing the sweltering room.

Everything seems to happen quickly after that, and before you know it, you are back in your bedroom where the doctor awaits. She checks your health and feeds you your pills, instructing you to rest in bed and try to get some sleep after having such an eventful afternoon, and then she and the guard make their departures, leaving you and Jimin alone.

He watches you for a few minutes after helping you get changed and making sure you are comfortable in your sheets, and the longer your face remains blank, the more he worries. Your expression is familiar to him and it brings him back to one instance in particular: where your father had ordered him to gather his troops and investigate the group of soldiers nearing your kingdom’s borders— and to engage in battle if they seemed to have dangerous intentions. You felt as though it was unnecessary to start battles with soldiers from another nation, fearing that it would lead to war if everything turned out to be a misunderstanding, and most of all, fearing for the life of your lover. Since he would only be taking a relatively small group of men, you knew he might be at a disadvantage and you begged your father not to send him out on the mission. That was the first time you had ever challenged your father while he was giving orders, and Jimin was impressed by your courage and professionalism as you kept it together long enough to get your points across. In the end, your father denied your requests and sent him to the borders anyway, and your face fell back into the same blank expression you hold now. It’s the expression you make when you want to seem unaffected in front of others as you hide the pain away in your heart.

“My love,” He calls softly as you stare into space. “(Y/n).”

“Yes?” When you turn to him, your eyes still appear unfocused.

“I must return downstairs to oversee the transfer of the prisoner, but Lilian will be nearby if you need anything while I am gone. How are you?” He leaves the question open ended for you to respond in whichever way you see fit, either about your physical or mental status, but you give him an equally vague answer.

“I am fine.” And that same forced smile. He stares for a while longer before sighing and standing up, promising to hurry back as fast as he can.

A claustrophobic feeling settles in the room once he leaves, almost imperceptible at first, the walls closing in on you little by little with every breath you take. It’s quiet here, a stark contrast to the noise of the courtroom, but the silence is almost deafening behind the increasing rhythm of your heart and breathing. Your fingers fumble a bit when they reach up to undo the clasp in your hair, taking a few moments to properly squeeze the clip and release it from your locks enough for you to pull it away, and it is only when a few of the strands snag that you realize that your hands are trembling. Not just your hands, but your whole body seems to shake like a leaf in the breeze.

Looking around the room, you try to ground yourself, taking deep breaths and attempting to focus on an object in the corner, but suddenly your eyes aren’t as clear as you expected and the room seems to sway in a nauseating swirl that makes you feel sick. A droplet of sweat skims down your neck and absorbs into your collar, the humidity from the room making it harder to breathe even when you are panting like this, eyes flickering back and forth from the wrinkles on your bedsheets to the tightening warm colored walls that close in on you steadily— the orange glow seeming to actually emit heat like the summer sun as they near, aiming to cook you inside your sweaty, shaking shell.

Your bed turns hard beneath your legs, the smooth silk like hot metal sheets against your skin, but you can’t move away from the burn because the heavy weight of them traps your legs in like a vice. Scenes from a few minutes ago are fresh in your brain, playing over and over again until it feels like it is happening all over again right in front of you and the noise is in this very room, the wrinkles of the blankets the rows of people in seats, the shadows the eyes of everyone who watched you give the sentencing coldly, the chill of your words sending a shiver down your spine and you can feel your chest start to hurt with the thudding, thumping, banging, pounding of your heart in its cage and the numbness in your fingertips and toes starting to spread throughout your limbs, and Oh God you feel like you are going to die if you do not leave this room Right Now. Either die or vomit, but you do not want to stick around long enough to find out.

Despite your muscles from being weak from over a week of disuse, you are carried onto your feet by the surge of adrenaline that came when the four corners of your room began to squeeze at your sides menacingly, forcing you out of bed and out of the room faster than you could think. The guard that usually stands watch at your door is startled when it flies open, revealing your disheveled appearance as you pull at the sticky material of your gown that chokes around your neck. He opens his mouth and speaks to you, but you can’t hear a word over the panic in your head, telling you to move far away from this place, and you smack his hands away when he reaches to help you on your unsteady legs.

“Do not follow me.” You snap, stumbling along the hall, vaguely hearing his steps behind you before you stop once more. “That is an order!” You have no idea how your voice sounds, or whether or not it came out at all, but he does not follow you any further as you turn the corner and begin to run on autopilot.

Not even 5 minutes have gone by before Jimin is notified about your disappearance. He had just about wrapped up all he needed to supervise in regards to Jinwoo— which he made sure went absolutely flawlessly because of how closely everyone was being watched by him— so there was not a second of hesitation when he received word of your episode.

“What do you mean she is gone?” He asks the guard, already speeding back in the direction of your room.

“She seemed quite disoriented when she walked out but would accept none of my help or advise.” The man muttered, out of breath from running to find the king and keeping up with his fast walking pace.

“You did not follow her?”

“She ordered me not to.”

“Even so-“ Jimin holds his tongue as he climbs the stairs to the second floor, knowing that a castle soldier would never disobey direct orders from the Queen herself. He is worried about you for a number of reasons, but he knows that being irrational will not help matters. Lilian is the first person he sees when he turns down your corridor, her thin form leaping to stand before him.

“She still has not returned, but I did not want to search for her yet without your permission.” She blurts, eyes round and nervous as she fiddles with her apron. “Where could she have gone? The castle is so large!”

Where would you possibly go? Jimin thinks for a moment before turning on his heel, starting down the hall suddenly. When Lilian calls after him, he responds with orders for her and the guard to take the rest of the night off because you will likely not want to be around people when you return. They take this as a sign that he knows where you are and leave it up to him, watching his back as he rushes away.

It all happened so quickly the first time you brought him here, he was barely paying attention to his surroundings as you pulled him along giddily, but now he feels confident as he follows his gut and navigates the twist and turns of the palace. His feet lead him past the cleaning room where you both encountered Jinwoo on the eve of your wedding and he forces himself to keep walking when a brief flashback almost brings him to a halt. Jimin breaks into a jog the nearer he gets to the room, his heart pounding with worry for your health, but the fact that he has not found you collapsed along the way means that you made it there okay. Or that he is completely wrong about your whereabouts and you are truly lost to him in the maze of your home. He dispels the second thought with a shake of his head.

“My Queen,” His relief is immediate when he spots you, your hands and head pressing into the aged wood of the giant doors to your secret library. Jimin approaches cautiously when you do not respond to his initial call to you, but that changes when he notices the shaking of your arms and legs as you struggle your weight against the barrier to no avail. “Please do not push yourself like this, I beg of you.” His hands wrap around your waist to steady you. “What are you doing here?”

“I-I-I felt s-so trapped in that damned room, I could not take it anymore! I w-wanted to- to come here but I am too weak to open these fucking doors! I keep pushing and pushing but they just will not budge!!” The emotion and shakiness of your voice breaks Jimin’s heart, but what really crushes him is the fact that you keep smacking his hands away when he tries to stabilize you. He isn’t sure if you even recognize that it is him yet because of the way you are too busy looking up at the doors with frantic eyes and frantic breathing, never once looking up at him.

“Let me help you.” He says softly, continuing to reach for your midsection despite you slapping at his arms. You keep rambling about the door and how it must be stuck or something, your sweat soaked skin making prints on the dark wood as you lean against it. “I am here to help you, let me help you open the door.” He repeats as gently as possible until you finally hear him and nod, your body remaining in its position. Making sure you are okay with it, he slowly pushes the doors open, and once they are cracked wide enough, you fall into the room and onto your knees, sucking in deep gulps of the dusty air to catch your breath.

He slowly lowers himself to the ground next to you, testing your comfort level with a hand on your shoulder before moving it to rub against your back. It takes several minutes for your breathing to calm down while he watches you, remembering how you told him this was the safest place in the world to you. You think back to the time when you first discovered this room and your mother helped you open these heavy doors all those years ago. She was so kind back then, smiling at you and teaching you all about this room with her hand on your back. Jimin’s touch reminds you of that, and you use the feeling to calm yourself down, breathing as if this was the only place in the palace that contained breathable air. Your mind clears after some time, and you finally look up to see your husband looking at you with a gentle smile, trying to hide the anxiety in his eyes, and you fall apart.

“Jimin,” You whimper. Launching yourself into his arms, you begin to cry with body racking sobs, the tears feeling hot on your cheeks. He says nothing as he holds you, only shushing you and rubbing your hair, accepting his place as your rock as you melt against him; but he’s sure you can feel how hard his heart is beating in his chest from seeing you in this condition. You have never shown him this side of you, never needed to, so he isn’t completely sure how to handle the situation. He has always known you to be the positive thinker, the one who cheers him up when all he can think of is gloom, and he supposes he just assumed you never had moments like these. But even the sun is shadowed with clouds at times. There must be a million emotions floating around in your head, and by trying to suppress them, they’ve only collected before spilling out all at once.

“What is the matter, beautiful?” Jimin asks when you seem to be at a point where you can speak. He ignores the front of his shirt as it sticks to him with wetness.

“I know I should not feel guilty, but I feel like such a terrible person.” You hiccup into the fabric, resting your forehead against his chest. It is obvious what you are referring to, he needs no context.

“You have done nothing wrong, Love.”

“Then why do I feel this way? Not that I am insensitive to the attempt on your life, but I cannot help but feel as if I have committed a crime by giving a man a life sentence of confinement and self-torture. Is this what justice is supposed to feel like?” You sniffle. He sighs into your hair, arms tight around you.

“I cannot tell you how to feel, but I would not expect you to be joyful after making such a heavy decision. Even if he deserves it, it never feels good to end a life, figuratively or literally.” He pulls you away from his chest by the shoulders to look you in the eyes, but you attempt to cover your face with your hands. You hate when people see you cry, it’s embarrassing. But Jimin has seen more of you than anyone else, so you don’t fight it when he takes your hands in his and moves them away. “Everyone copes with their emotions differently, but I will always be here for you when you need me. Someone wise and beautiful once told me that, as a married couple, we must protect and watch over each other, and also that we sometimes need to be saved from ourselves; however, I am beginning to realize that it is you who saves me more often than not. I have never done anything significant for you compared to all that you do for me, so as your husband I am making a vow to always be there to save you from yourself and come to your aid, even when you pretend that everything is okay.”

“I am sorry I lied when you asked me if I was okay. I am obviously not fine.” You apologize bowing your head. “Did I at least appear stable in front of the court?”

“As stable as a horse.” He grins at his pun. “I am very proud of the way you kept yourself so composed in the courtroom in front of your people like a true Queen. I only wish you were not so good at hiding how you feel from me.”

“Your presence next to me during the sentencing was the only thing that helped me through it. I wanted to fall into your arms the moment we entered our bedroom, but I thought it inappropriate to cry in sympathy for the man who tried to hurt you and force you to console me. You did not know him personally and I know how angry you were after questioning him, so it would be unfair to show sympathy toward him in front of you.”

“Regardless of my personal feelings, I will always be willing to hear your woes and pains. I was only hurt by your inability to trust that.”

A shame falls over you, though it was not his intention, and your head lowers. “In hindsight, I would be upset with you if you kept your pain from me, too.” There is a period of quiet where you let your words soak in. He knows you understand his viewpoint, there is no need to dwell on it further.

“From this point forward, let us both be completely truthful and open with everything. Just as you confided in me with the knowledge of this room, we will keep no secrets between us. Promise me.” Jimin stares into your damp eyes until you relent, promising him your honesty and trust in him, and you know your words have been heard by the walls and etched into the details of each bookcase, an unbreakable swear that you will both hold true to. This place, this room, is yours to share, and at the very least you will confide in him here, where only his ears may hear your whispers.

You’ve calmed significantly since he first found you, and the way you softly look back at him in this moment makes him ache. He loves you so much that it hurts, and despite it being a week since your wedding, he still cannot believe you officially belong to each other. With your puffy, red eyes decorated by dewy lashes clumped together, pouty pink lips, and stained cheeks, you still look gorgeous as ever, and he admires just how wonderful you are on the inside, too. You have the biggest heart of anyone he knows and he doesn’t blame Jinwoo for falling in love with you, it isn’t difficult. Jimin would truly do anything for you. And he knows you would do the same for him.

“Do not ever doubt my love for you, My Queen, I will forever remain at your side.”

“And I, at yours.” You reply in a whisper, closing your eyes to savor the kiss he presses to your brow. You shift in your seated position, the hardwood cutting into your knees uncomfortably, and Jimin is reminded of your current health.

“Come, My Love, I must return you to bed. You need to res-“

“No!” You protest quickly, though it comes as a gasp. “My health is fine. I do not- must I return so hastily? I am not yet ready to be confined again.” The frightened look and quickening of your breaths gives Jimin pause and he recalls the words you spoke to your prisoner. He had no idea you thought of your bedroom as a jail cell during your recovery. He did not notice how uncomfortable you seemed at all hours, not resting well at night and remaining fidgety throughout the day, and he sympathizes with you.

“We could stay here if you so please. I understand that this is your safe place and I am willing to stay with you for as long as you wish.”

“Jimin,” You say, raising a hand to his cheek. “You are my safe place. As long as we are together...” There’s no need for you to finish your sentence, he already knows what you mean.

“Then I would follow you to the ends of the earth if your heart so desired. It is all up to you.” He smiles at the thoughtful look on your face that morphs into a smirk.

“What a coincidence, I was planning to journey there in the coming week.” You joke. “But for now, my heart desires to travel somewhere more local.”

“Such as?”

“The flower garden. I would like to visit our bench.” For some reason, your cheeks begin to heat. Maybe it is from the way Jimin has hearts in his eyes when you say this. Or maybe it is from the flashes of memory you experience from your first time with him atop the white painted wood.

“Then, to the gardens we shall go. Allow me to escort you, My Queen.” He’s just as formal as ever, kneeling in front of you and motioning for you to climb onto his muscular back, his strength never ceasing to amaze you when he stands with ease as though you weigh nothing. Your arms drape over his shoulders as he walks, your chin pressed tiredly to the muscle, and you can’t help but breathe in his scent. Jimin smells of sweat and musk due to the heat and stress of the day, but there is a hint of sweet hidden there that is distinctly him. The smell is woven into his expensive clothes and every strand of his sleek hair, and you melt into it all, feeling totally at ease as he bears your weight through the palace. It’s not as if your grievances have just disappeared into thin air, but being with him doesn’t offer some relief to your internal suffering.

The air outside isn’t much less humid than inside, but the slight breeze that whispers past occasionally is nice. It’s a beautiful day and it takes your mind off of today’s events, even if just for a moment. Your walk through the flower paths is a slow one, neither of you saying much, simply enjoying the nature and each other’s company, and it gets to the point where you’ve forgotten your destination. But Jimin hasn’t and you arrive at your favorite white bench before you realize.

“Mother?” The surprised tone in your lover’s voice brings your attention to the woman a few meters ahead, crouching down to smell orchids lining the path. She smiles at a butterfly before turning to the two of you, the crinkle in her eyes endearing.

“Your Highnesses.” She bows politely, making you giggle. “I did not expect to see you out of your room so soon, (Y/n), but this certainly is a pleasant surprise.”

“I went a tad stir crazy from being in bed for so long, I just needed a break from it all.” You smile, nestling your head in the crook of Jimin’s neck comfortably.

“If it is for your health, then I approve. And it is quite noble of you to offer your back to her, my son. But, oh dear, Lilian would throw a fit if she saw you carrying the Queen through the gardens in your public attire.” She steps closer to fret with the hem of Jimin’s blazer, the precious woman, smoothing the wrinkles and fixing your dress over your knees for you.

“What brings you here, mother?”

“Oh, I simply wanted to explore the gardens before your father and I made our departures later tonight. I’ve heard so much about them and this is the first I’ve had any free time since our arrival.” She returns to looking into the fields.

“You are leaving?” You inquire.

“Yes, for my duties are complete. I cared for you while you recovered those 5 dark days and made sure you were comfortable, but now you are awake and well and in good hands, so I can leave in peace. Lilian and Jimin seem to have everything handled well.” You’re shocked to find that she had been the one taking care of you while you were in a coma. You assumed Lilian to be responsible for everything, but it seems you were incorrect. Your mother-in-law watched over you the entire time and made sure your needs were taken care of, which explains why she was sitting at the foot of your bed when you awoke, and a warm feeling wells up in you. Just like she had promised, she has protected you and stayed by your side through sickness just as your own mother would. Which is to be expected, because she too is your mother now and you have come to accept that.

“Thank you for all that you have done. I cannot express how much I appreciate it. There is no way that I will ever be able to repay you for your kindness.” You gush, hoping to communicate your sincerity through your eyes.

“There is one way to repay me— and it is my last request before I go.” You both look at her, anticipating her next words. “I would kindly like to request that you bear me grandchildren that I can dote upon and love for all eternity. That is the only thing I want in this entire world and the only thing I have to look forward to in this stage in my life, so please. You owe me nothing, (Y/n), but if you must grant me something, grant me this.” You find it precious how she pleads with you like a child in a candy store, eyes lighting up at the mention of future grandkids, and blush a little when Jimin’s grip on your legs gets a little tighter.

“Gifting you grandchildren and our kingdom’s next heir shall be the top priority on our list.” He answers for you, smiling in a way that you know his mother can read. But she says nothing in regards to it and claps happily at the promise.

“I am returning back home for now, but do not be afraid to write to me if you need help with anything. Conception can be tricky and I know all about-“

“Mother!” Jimin gasps, face turning as bright as the roses behind him. As if he didn’t just insinuate something just as bad moments ago.

“Oh, do not act as if we are not all adults here, boy. All I am suggesting is that I am willing to offer help and advise on anything regarding pregnancy and children, so do not be hesitant to contact me. I wish the two of you luck and a swift recovery, my dear. Now, I must be on my way before his father gets anxious of my whereabouts. Goodbye, my loves.” She plants a kiss to your cheek and then her son’s, making her way back toward the castle without another word.

“This is the second time she has mentioned grandchildren to me. I’m beginning to believe she wants them more than we do.” Jimin can feel the lift of your cheek against his skin, shaking his head before easing you onto the bench nearby, taking a seat next to you.

“I can assure you that no one is more excited about the prospect of our children than me. I cannot wait to start a family with you, it was the complete truth when I said that it is now our top priority. As soon as you are well, love.” His hand rests gently on your stomach in a loving way, but instead the touch sends heat spiraling down to your core. You subtly squeeze your legs tighter together in an effort to ignore the throbbing between them.

His hand pulls away all too quickly to grasp onto yours, and you sigh at the release of tension, falling into an easy silence as you simply sit and observe the nature around you. Conversation isn’t necessary, but it appears sparsely whenever anything crosses your mind, and you can say this is the closest thing to a date that you’ve had with Jimin in a while. This is the closest you’ve felt to him. With your head on his shoulder and your fingers intertwined in his lap, this is the feeling of romance and closeness that you lacked in the days you have been confined to your bed, and looking down at the gorgeous wedding rings adorning both of your fingers, you finally feel like a real married couple. He’s been here for you through sickness and health and you are so incredibly grateful that his love and perception of you hasn’t changed for the worst after witnessing your meltdown today. But yours certainly has. You didn’t think it was possible to love him even more than you already do.

Jimin stares at you as you nap with your head on his thigh, him having moved you there when he noticed you starting to dose off. He knows you’re probably exhausted from the emotional (and physical) energy it took to get through today, yet he’s glad that you are finally sleeping peacefully now. It’s odd, he feels more like a knight to you now than he did when he first confessed his love for you here as one of your soldiers. He’s a king, this he knows, but it doesn’t feel like the weight of the kingdom is on his shoulders like he expected— in fact, he feels less responsible for the welfare of the population now than he did as a General. That sense of impending doom he felt before your marriage is nowhere to be found and in its place sits an ease that makes him believe for the first time that everything will be alright. You’ve gone through Hell this past week and he prays that this is the worst it will ever get, but you’ve survived it despite everything and he knows that this will only make the two of you stronger as a pair.

The temperature dips slightly when the sun begins to set, the breeze turning a bit more persistent to aid the cooling, and your body is completely lax against him as you sleep. You do not even wake when he lifts you onto his back again, taking you back to the castle with slow steps to wash your body with a warm rag. He takes his time cleaning you, dragging the cloth and bubbles over your skin as gently as possible and making sure to clean every inch. You’re calm as he takes care of you, but goosebumps raise to the surface whenever he nears your chest or thighs. But he’s focused and devoted so he doesn’t take notice, dressing you in a satin robe and placing you against the soft sheets of your bed when he’s finished.

“Mm,” You groan quietly, shifting in your sleep when your husband runs his hand through your hair, yet you still do not awaken. He smiles at you, deciding to take the opportunity to change into more comfortable clothes for the evening, first stripping himself until his upper body is bare, then reaching down to unclasp his belt. You hum again, wiggling your hips and rubbing your legs together ever so slightly, a small furrow on your brow, and Jimin pauses to watch you for a moment. Were you feeling alright? You look to be in discomfort and a sweat builds on your temples despite the cooler temperatures, but then you lick your lips and let out a shaky sigh that clues him into what is happening.

Slowly unbuckling his belt, he feels the material of his pants pull tighter when he imagines what you could be dreaming about. Perhaps you were dreaming about the last time you had him to yourself, where he pleasured you until your legs shook. Or maybe you’re thinking about that fantasy of yours, the one where he ties your wrists and makes you beg for him to touch you properly, to let you feel him. But it is also possible that you are thinking exactly what he is imagining right this moment: him inside of you, fucking you relentlessly until you both reach your highs and he cums inside your tight, hot pussy, filling you with his seed over and over again until he’s sure you’re pregnant with his child.

He doesn’t even realize when his hand slips into his own briefs, the acute pleasure of his hand squeezing at his base enough to set him alight. The bed dips as he prowls slowly toward you, sliding your robe from your body and grabbing the container of oil perched on the bedside table that he prepared earlier to moisturize you with. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, a slick forming between your legs from your dream, and he simply smiles as he pours warm oil over your front, his soft hands following swiftly. It starts down your stomach, back up around your breasts— avoiding your nipples— around your shoulders and along your arms. The feeling alone isn’t enough to wake you, but the sound of your own voice when you moan aloud is.

“Hello there,” Jimin grins when your eyes open to meet his bare chest, then his eyes. “Sleep well?”

“I-“ You’re panting as he rubs oil into your upper body, tingles shooting down your nerves and straight to your core. “Yes.” You swallow.

“It appears so,” He chuckles, moving on to pour the liquid onto each of your thighs, catching the drips with his fingers before they can stain your sheets. Feeling his fingers on your upper thighs makes your muscles tense, and it is then that you feel the soreness from exerting yourself today. He notices a small wince when he presses into the muscles there, experimentally adding pressure to see your reaction. “Are you sore, my love?”

“Y-Yes.” You stutter out again, breath hitching at the way he lifts one of your legs suddenly to rest against his shoulder, settling himself between them, and the position alone is enough to have you pooling between the legs.

“Here?” He whispers, pressing into the muscles of your inner thighs. You groan, partly from the soreness, and partly from how close his slippery fingers glide toward your wet lips, the ache inside you increasing tenfold. “You are so tense, darling. Is this because you took your first steps out of this room today? Or could it be you are filled with tension from something else, hm? Have you been waiting for me to help you release all of this pressure? To rub out all of the stress you are holding deep inside you, wound up so, so tightly that you cannot wait to let it unravel all over me? Is that it?” You nod wordlessly.

He rubs circles into an especially tender spot and watches as you bite your lip, looking at him with such a needy expression that he almost can’t contain himself. You have the prettiest eyes he has ever seen, looking at him as if he holds the entire world in his palms, and he wants to give you everything he has to offer. Pulling you closer, he makes sure you can feel his bulge against your ass as he moves on to your other leg to work out the knots there.

“My love- I want you.” You whimper when he bucks into you a little, kissing your ankle softly.

“What is it that you desire, My Queen?”

“I want you to make love to me until I am numb and claim me as your Queen. I missed having you inside of me, I do not know if I can wait another day.” You plead, the throbbing between your legs beginning to feel unbearable.

“Fuck,” Your legs fall from his shoulders when Jimin leans forward to place his hands beside your head, bending to rest his forehead against yours. “I know I have told you that we would wait until you were well again, but I do not think I have enough willpower to deny you of your request.”

“How long must we wait, then, to consummate our love, My King? I am well, just weak, but I am certain that I can handle whatever you give to me. You will not hurt me.” To further break his resolve, you scratch your nails lightly against his scalp and watch as he shivers, grabbing onto the locks as you pull him down for a passionate kiss. His lips seem softer than ever as you press them into yours, biting on the flesh briefly before slipping your tongue into his mouth, and he lets you lead the encounter until you are both breathless and hot. The next place his lips land is on the side of your neck, kissing along the ticklish underside of your jawline to your favorite spot above your pulse. He nips you there, still fearful of leaving a visible mark, and you groan with an arch of your chest, sensitive nipples grazing his.

“I will do all of the work, then. You need not move a single muscle, my love.” Jimin trails his lips between the valley of your breasts, kissing the underside of each one but avoiding the taut peaks. You squirm beneath him and fist his hair, whining out as he makes his way lower and slower. “Allow me to take care of you. I only wish to make your fantasies come true.” At this, he stops at the tuft of hair above your pubic bone, locking eyes with you before suddenly lunging up to grab hold of your wrists, the two of you giggling when he moves them above your head.

“You startled me!” You flush red at the way he stares down at you, looking so loving yet so dominant at the same time.

“I do recall a time where you disclosed to me that you often fantasized about me bounding your hands and having my way with you... is that something you still want?” He inquires, his eyes never wavering from yours.

“Yes, very much.” You breathe, lost in the way his thumbs caress your skin.

“Very well,” He reaches over to pull the long satin ribbon from your discarded robe, bringing the material up to tie your hands to a post. It’s tighter than what is completely comfortable but he can tell you like the slight discomfort, and you tell him it’s perfect because you know he knows just how much you enjoy this. Hands immobilized now, there is no escape from the onslaught of pleasure you know Jimin will inflict on you, and the anticipation eats you alive and makes you weep between the legs. His fingertips skim over you ever so lightly, starting from your shoulders, over your chest and stomach, down the length of your legs, bringing them back up the inside of your calves and thighs until he splays his palms against them and pushes your legs apart. The sigh he releases fans over your wetness and you whine. “It feels like it has been an eternity since I’ve last had you. Your beauty astounds me every time.”

Leaning forward, he connects his lips with yours for only a moment, before scattering them across your clavicle and dipping down to lick at your left nipple. Preoccupied with watching him suck at your chest with his luscious lips, you jolt a bit when his fingers come up to caress your core and play with your opening, gathering the leaking droplets of your arousal to bring them up to your clit. The first circle is sparks, the second lightening, and you do not even attempt to conceal the loud moan that falls from you.

“Jimin,” You gasp, already feeling out of breath. His tongue flicks, teasing the bud as his fingers move in a similar fashion below, and you feel the need to have him closer, locking your legs around his torso as he rests between them.

“That’s it, moan as loud as you want, darling. I want to hear how good you feel.” He mumbles, lowering his mouth onto your other breast and treating it with the same care. Your chest has never been very sensitive, but tonight it feels as if your body has been ignited in flames, each touch against your nerves sending a tingle straight down to your core. You could cum just like this, with his fingers on your pussy and lips around your nipples, his free hand warm as it holds up your breast for his mouth to ravish. He pulls away from your chest with a pop, letting his teeth skim the sensitive bud just to watch you arch for him.

“I n-need more,” Your voice cracks with frustration, his fingertips against you no longer enough and he knows it.

“You need more of what, my love?” He asks coyly, sinking one finger in halfway before pulling it away.

“Of you. Please, taste how badly I desire you.” Your hips lift off the bed into his hips, shocked to find how hard he is beneath his trousers. He is doing an amazing job at ignoring his own painful arousal, while you are slowly being reduced to nothing simply from the prospect of being taken by him.

“So greedy, darling, were my fingers not enough for you? Do you need my mouth to satisfy you instead?” You nod vigorously at him, gasping at the way he forcefully parts your thighs and pushes them to the bed. His dark chuckle sounds through the room, his voice dripping with lust and bass as he positions himself face-to-face with your sex. He needs little more than the fragrant scent of you to know just how fertile you are, and how sweet you will taste on his tongue, and his mouth waters at the thought. “I love how impatient you are for me, love, but we have the entire night to ourselves and I intend to take my time loving Every. Single. Inch of you.”

He punctuates his words with kisses to your center, ending with one long lick that causes your teeth to sink down on your bottom lip. Jimin’s tongue moves expertly against your slick folds, using flat licks to collect your essence that seems almost like a drug to him. It starts off gentle, the glide of his tongue, but it is the best feeling you’ve felt in what feels like ages. Pulling on your restraints, you try your hardest to keep still, hands and legs immobilized by your husband as he devours your pussy with devotion, swirling around your clit and dragging his plump lips through your wetness in the messiest way possible, but your pelvis curls up into him in delight with every sensation he delivers.

If you were to compare yourself to anything, it would be a waterfall— gushing and fast paced, heart pounding like the deafening noise of rushing water that almost drowns out the sound of him lapping up your wetness. And every time you think you have a stable foothold, he switches his pattern and sucks, causing you to slip right off the edge with the current. The feeling alone isn’t what makes you run, however; it is the way he looks up at you with his sexy, smoldering eyes as if to communicate that he knows just how amazingly talented he is with his mouth. You love when he gazes into your eyes during sex, it shows how attentive he is to your body, how fascinated he is with every reaction you produce for him as he continues to tease your pink button until your eyes roll.

“Jimin, please,” You moan, breaking eye contact with him to throw your head back into the fluffed pillows. It feels as if your toes are stuck in a curled position, muscles tense with the oncoming orgasm that he promises with every kiss. His eyebrow raises questioningly at you, almost mockingly, and you know he can feel how your clit swallows and pulses in his mouth, a clear sign that your high is near. But with three more circles, he pulls back and grins at you, waiting for your eyes to reopen and meet with his. “Why~” You whine, flexing your hips uselessly.

“You must be mistaken, darling, I am in charge tonight. I have already expressed to you that I intend to take my time pleasuring you, so why am I being rushed?” His steely gaze freezes you where you lay, bound arms relaxing once again.

“I-I was going to cum.” You reply meekly, hoping that he will resume soon before your high fades away. His thumbs play idly with your lower lips, spreading the slick smeared around from his messy eating.

“Then cum if you must, but I will not stop until I have had my fill of you. Now, be a good girl and sit still for me.” It’s worded nicely, but you know this is a warning. You haven’t been punished by him in a long while, deciding that you prefer kind yet strict Jimin to angry and cruel Jimin, but you still huff in frustration.

“To think you would treat me like this...” You pout, trying a cute tactic to appeal to his softer side. “I am the Queen, you know.”

“Oh, I am well aware of that, My Queen. But I am also your King now so I am responsible for all of your pleasure, and it is my duty and mission to give to you as much as possible. Though, admittedly, tasting your delectable flavor is mainly for my own enjoyment.” He gives a cheeky smile, one that crinkles his eyes but in a more mischievous way than normal.

“Is denying me a high also part of your plan?” You snap, earning a click of his tongue.

“If you allow me to work, you will find that we both will get what we desire.” With that he reconnects his mouth to your pussy, the return of his warmth throwing you back into the river. He works you with a slow tongue, targeting where you’re most sensitive for only a few seconds at a time before straying down your slit to prod at your hole, barely giving you enough time to catch your breath before returning to tend to your bud. It is extremely difficult to keep still, and at this rate you will reach your first high quicker than you expected. He is so good with his mouth that you can hardly do more than moan, straining your arms above your head as not to move your lower body, but you cannot stop the tremble of your thighs when he licks you so well.

His pace increases, diving in rough to push you over the edge with a squeal of his name, and suddenly you are falling off the endless rapids of an explosive orgasm. You have thought many times how your first orgasm as a married woman would be given to you, but you could never have guessed it would be this intense. The silk of your restrains dig into your wrists, but you feel nothing aside from the deep pulsing inside you, clenching and squeezing around nothing as he eases you through the bliss. You can hear a faint hum sound from the man between your legs as you begin to come back down, your juices shining on his cheeks as he drinks from the source, eyes closed and face tinted pink from your heat. But just when your body relaxes again, he drags his way back up, surprising you with the shock it sends to your toes.

“Ah!” You squeak, attempting to close your legs, but his strength is many times more than yours and you hold little power as he holds you open, eyes back on yours with a curious glint. He runs his wet muscle up and down the length of your pussy, watching you buck and jump from the sensitivity, barely able to whine out his name to tell him it’s too much. However, you already know this was his plan from the start, so you force yourself to endure it.

He’s grinning now, simply adoring the response he gets from you with every movement against you, and his cock screams for relief at how sexy you look as you lay there bound and sweaty, a flush of red overtaking your complexion and an uncontrollable shaking that is almost laughable. If he can hold on a little longer he is sure you will feel so wet and soft around him once he finally slips inside. It’s painful to wait, but the beautiful agony you reflect on your face is more than a worthy distraction. Locking his arms around your hips, Jimin uses his fingers to spread your lips and expose your shy clit as it hides from the stimulation. As soon as the air touches it you shiver, immediately replaced by a warmth that spreads up your spine with every quick flick against it. Your body protests at once, trying hard to slip from his grasp, but then your whimpering turns to moaning and you once again feel that building sensation in your abdomen.

Once your muscles finally relax and your legs part farther in invitation, Jimin sneaks in two of his chubby digits to satisfy the emptiness you craved to be filled. It is amazing how easily he finds your spot, curled and pressed right into the rough patch that holds the key to your second release. He doesn’t pump in and out like usual— no, it’s more like he’s rubbing you from the inside— and the combination of this alongside his tongue sends you into a cursing frenzy.

“Shit- Ah! So fucking-“ A deep groan sounds from your throat when he increases pressure against your walls. “Right like that... I’ll-“ Your words come in broken intervals as you struggle to catch a breath, the voluntary control of your body slipping away the more your mind clouds with hazy pleasure that speeds through you. A numbness takes over your body to the point where you barely feel anything, and then you feel everything all at once. It’s a beautiful brilliance that blindsides you once it hits, the feeling ascending you from the mix of sensations that never let up between your legs, and it’s almost an out-of-body experience. Jimin can feel the harsh clenching of your walls around his thick fingers, wetness spilling out around the digits as the intensity of your spasms magnify with every drag of his tongue. Your back is contorted and arched off the sheets, no sound escaping you as you look to be in total bliss, focused completely on the incredible rush of endorphins that only lasts seconds, but feels like hours. He’s captivated once again by the sight of you, pulling his mouth away to catch the end of your euphoric trip, your hips bucking in waves to chase the feeling.

The hand within you stills, but you continue to react, shaking and clamping your thighs shut when he moves from the gap between them. Staggering breaths are all you can manage for a minute, eyes shut tight and still lost in the wonderland that his mouth and fingers brought you. You can feel his eyes lingering on you, his fingers pulled from your hole, and you can just imagine the smile that’s on his lips. One that he wears only when he is feeling especially good about himself, his ego big enough to fill the entire palace. But when you finally look to him, all you see is wild hunger in his eyes.

“I have never seen you look so enraptured before. For a moment I feared that I had broken you,” He laughs, completely amazed, making a mental note to improve his technique just so he can make you cum like that every time. You swallow hard and shake your head at him, reaching to pull him down for a kiss but being met with the rattle of your headboard. With quick hands, he unties you and dives in to meet your lips with his, groaning at the way you lead aggressively and push at his trousers.

“Off. Need you.” You mumble into the kiss, barely pulling away enough to speak as you taste the intoxicating flavor of his mouth and your cum. He gently bites your lip to slow your frenzy, pulling the flesh along with him before releasing and staring into your eyes like they hold the galaxy. It lasts only a second, but it is enough to cause your heart to skip a beat as you realize the magnitude of the moment. You are now married to the love of your life. He is King and you are the Queen. There are no limitations surrounding your love now, meaning everything that happens from this point forward has been given the official approval of the kingdom— it is encouraged, even. This is what you have waited for.

Shoving down his pants, Jimin makes haste in exposing himself, rid of his last garment and ready to begin. You look up at him with innocent eyes as he pulls you toward him and rubs himself between your folds, cock scalding with the pulsating need to fill you to the brim and fuck it’s heavy load deep into you. Due to the stress of your recovery and handling the affairs of the kingdom, Jimin has not been relieved since the night before your wedding and his balls are tense and weighted with a week of unreleased pressure. Once covered in the arousal from your previous orgasms, he wastes no time pressing the head of him into your entrance, pushing in as slowly as he can manage so you feel every bit of his cock as it gently spreads you open around him.

“Look at me.” He whispers to you, grip tightening on your hips when you find his gaze once again. When he’s all the way inside he only pauses for a few seconds, pulling out halfway and slowly inserting himself back in, both of you groaning in delight. He can feel how swollen you are from your first two orgasms, the fit tighter than usual, and he finds himself short of breath just from the shallow strokes he’s given you so far. Reaching up, you loop your arms around his neck to bring him closer, his palms resting next to your head so he can hold himself above you. “I hope our children inherit your eyes.” He confesses, and you clench at this, heart fluttering.

“Well, there will not be any children of ours unless you fuck me properly.” You shoot back with a smile, tired of the slow rolling of his hips and wishing he would just get to it already.

“I also wish for them to inherit your smile— but hopefully not your vulgar tongue.” Jimin snickers when you roll your eyes at him, his thrusts increasing in power just slightly before he pulls out completely. “Turn over, raise your ass high for me.” You hastily follow his instructions, facing the headboard and dropping your upper half onto the pillows so he has the perfect view from behind.

“Like this?” You coo, wiggling to tease. His hands grope at your globes, pulling them apart slightly to eye the string of wetness that drips down from you, catching it with his length before it can stain your sheets. The way he fits inside you when he re-enters halts your playfulness instantly, the slide feeling so much better in this position.

“Is this what you wanted of me, My Queen? Is this enough?” The slap of his hips against your ass is so loud that it echoes throughout the room, accompanied by the squelch of your walls and your muffled whimpers into the pillow beneath you.

The speed he chooses is quick, sharp and deep thrusts that aim pointedly at your engorged frontal wall, and your back hollows initially out of surprise, but he easily guides you into your previous arched position with a hand between your shoulder blades. From his perspective, you look like a succubus enticing him to succumb to his deepest desires and chase his high selfishly with the goal of impregnating you. He nearly drools at the dip of your back and waist, the roundness of your ass on display for no one but him, each cheek jiggling giddily with the contact of his skin. He can see the tiny sweat droplets beginning to bead on the surface of your shoulders and neck, stray strands of hair getting stuck there the more you are jostled into the pillows, the color of your ears and neck turning a lovely red color from the blood rush. Raking his nails up and down your back, Jimin watches with rapt attention as goosebumps appear, prickling up in beautiful response to his touch as he fucks you harder.

You feel his hands begin to play with your ass, pulling your cheeks apart to get a view of his cock sliding in and out, slowing for a few strokes just to see how you grip him on the way out and suck him back in until his balls rest against your lips. He pulls you into him, encouraging your movement, and it isn’t long before you pick up his rhythm, rocking yourself into him to the best of your ability in your weakened state. But even with the little power you manage, Jimin still touches so much deeper, so much stronger into you, and your moans turn almost crazed. His cock isn’t incredibly long, but God, does he fit perfectly against all of your favorite places. Like two pieces of a puzzle. You’ve experienced his cock on many occasions, yet you never grow tired of it or get used to the feeling that makes you feel light in the head and numb in your body. He could say the same for your pussy, the feeling even more satisfying every time he’s had the pleasure of exploring it. Today is different though— this feels different— and maybe it is supposed to. Maybe this is what it feels like to know that you are all his. To have security in your relationship, which is something that had been missing when your relationship was still in secret. It’s a new feeling and it feels amazingly wet and tight and perfect, he could easily become very comfortable with the idea of having you and only you for the rest of his days.

Pushing you down flat, Jimin moves your legs together to straddle the back of your thighs, slipping in once again with a groan of your name. His front lowers to rest against your back, lips already starting a trail up your shoulders and neck. It’s a bit ticklish when he kisses you there and you smile, turning your head to meet him and slip your tongue into his mouth. His hips are fluid like waves on a beach, rocking into you slowly once more so you can cherish the moment and the closeness. If he doesn’t slow down now, Jimin is certain he will cum very soon and he wants this to last so much longer than that.

“I missed this with you.” He whispers, returning his lips to suck at your jaw. “I missed being intimate with you and having you like this. To think I almost lost you, fuck,” A shakiness enters his voice that you do not expect. “To think I would never get to love or touch you again... I never want to let you go now. I just want to hold you.”

“Then hold me. I am yours now.” You reassure him, finding one of his hands and holding on tight. You have shared those same thoughts: the possibility that— had you not been so lucky— one of you could have died and you would never be able to experience this love ever again. Having him be here in the moment with you means so much more now, and you feel so incredibly blessed to be able to express your love to each other again.

“I will do so much more than hold you, My love. I want to satisfy every craving and desire you have, your wish is my command.” His rolling turns into rougher grinding, the friction and his words sending a flash of heat through your body.

“Faster,” You breathe, squeezing his hand a little tighter. The fragrant candles lit across the room do a poor job at covering the scent of sex that wafts from your bodies when he picks up speed, raising onto his hands to gain leverage. You grip the sheets when he starts fucking you in earnest, bouncing off your ass and aiming for long strokes. You wish you could say the smack of his hips was the lewdest sound in the room, but you cannot control your voice, moaning even louder now with reckless abandon. There is no doubt in your mind that everyone on the second floor of your palace can hear you, Jimin’s own grunts joining yours when you squeeze so nicely around him.

His hand snakes up your side, winding around to grab hold of one of your breasts, and his expert fingers twist and pinch at your sensitive nipples, earning moan after moan from you as he continues to increase in speed and power.

“It is so good,” Jimin huffs, crouching over you to move his hand higher until it has a light grasp around your neck. His fingertips press to your pulse point, not enough to cut off your airflow, but enough to have you lightheaded and dripping from the sensation. “Talk to me, My Queen. Tell me how much you love my cock.”

Your husband has always been a sucker for praise, yours in specific, and you have never been one to deny him of it. Twisting as far as you can, you look back at him to express your words and are met with a sight that makes your walls flutter. The orange dim lighting of the room flickers shadows all over his body, defining the cuts of muscle and glow of perspiration covering him. His abs flex with every forward movement, peck muscles bulging to hold his weight, only the tops of his thighs visible over the horizon of your ass. He plows into you with magnificent form, focused on giving you the utmost pleasure amidst his own. “I love... everything about you.” You pant, unable to tear your eyes from his body or the sight of his cock moving languidly in and out of you. “I love how fucking deep you reach, I love how I can feel your balls pressing against me with every stroke, I love how I can feel you throbbing inside- god, Jimin, I am so close.”

“Will you cum for me once more, darling? Let me feel you pull me in and milk my cum with your sweet little pussy.” His fingers press harder to your throat, your core tightening in tandem, and you can feel your whole body quiver with the beginnings of your orgasm. He’s dripping sweat by now, his hair wet and flopping about his forehead, and you do not think he has ever looked so sexy. The dark look in his eyes is deadly, his own high fast approaching, and butterflies of excitement explode in your belly.

“I will not let go until you do.” You confess, though you are not entirely certain that is true with the way he’s making you feel right now. “I want to feel you spill your seed within me, that is my desire. Please.” Your begging receives a growl in response, a sudden emptiness filling you when he pulls away and flips you back around to face him, throwing your ankles over his shoulders unceremoniously. His hands wrap around to grip the front of your thighs, fingertips digging in as he pounds into you with his strength.

“Fuck, I want that too.” He pants, eyes locking between your legs before they shut in ecstasy, his cursing revealing just how unraveled he is becoming. “I want to cum so deep in this pussy that you will be leaking for days. Need to mark you with my love so the whole fucking kingdom knows you are mine. I have waited for so long, I can’t wait to see you heavy with my child, so swollen and beautiful and all mine. No one else’s.”

His words affect you almost as much as the angle his tip touches inside you, pulling gasps and drawn out whimpers from your lips. There’s as sting where your thighs meet his skin repeatedly, and you know you will probably have bruises all over tomorrow, but you can’t seem to care when it feels this amazing. More than that, his face is scrunched up in desperate agony, each push into your sopping walls dragging him down into a sea of bliss, hoping to fill you with his own salty semen as you continue to gush around him.

“Jimin,” You couldn’t speak if you wanted to, every word being replaced by shuddering gasps because of the magic he performs with his hips. You know he is usually adamant about making you cum first, but you honestly do not think he can hold out that long if the lovely shade of pink that flushes over his face and chest are any indication. You tighten purposefully, snagging your bottom lip with your teeth to stifle your own noises in favor of listening to his, his resulting moan like music to your ears.

“I- shit, I’m gonna-“ His head leans against your ankle, eyebrows furrowed intensely as sweat pools down from his temples.

“Cum inside me, Jimin, I want it so badly. Please. Make me yours.”

All restraint leaves his body at once and he becomes frantic, raising to his knees to deliver devastating thrusts that force you up the bed in increments. Your hands cover his when they move to your waist, craving to feel more of him. His moans become pornographic and you swear you could listen to him getting lost in you forever. They make your core clench as his volume gets louder, and that is all it takes to send him over the edge, unrhythmic, stuttering bucks all he can manage when you feel the first contraction of his balls. With a cry of your name, Jimin pushes in as far as he will go and grinds against you, his head thrown back to expose his bobbing Adam’s apple and the veins straining at the surface of his skin as his eyes roll at the satisfaction of finally being able to finish inside you. This is what you have wanted for so long, to feel each pulse of his groin when he reaches the height of his pleasure, to feel the sensation of him swelling ever so slightly inside of you as he paints your walls white with his release, but neither of you expected for it to feel this incredible. You feel like this is an entirely new level of intimacy that you have reached with your lover, being able to have him splatter his love deep within your womb and milk himself dry with your warm walls.

You can’t help but moan at the experience, never having seen him cum so hard before, and it takes several seconds for the twitching in his balls to stop before he is coherent again. What you do not expect is for his hips to start moving not a moment later, gently at first while he leans over you to press your knees to your chest and his forehead to yours. But his pace then resumes to the relentless one he held before, though not as powerful, and you instantly tense up.

“It feels so much better like this— so so wet.” Jimin groans, fighting through his own sensitivity to help you find bliss as well. You never knew you needed this in your life— him fucking you with his overly sensitive cock, using his own cum as lube to get you to your peak— but now that it’s happening, you don’t know how you’ve lived your whole life without it. Already close to the edge, you can hardly function with all of the new sensations you are experiencing, nails raking at Jimin’s toned back until they land on his muscular ass. “Mmm, I can feel how close you are,” His breath hitches. “Are you aroused by the feeling of me fucking my cum into your womb? It feels good, doesn’t it— being pleased and claimed by your King?”

You can only nod at him, sealing your lips out of cautious habit, but he opens your mouth with his to swallow your moans instead, grabbing hold of your ass to pull you deeper along his shaft, making sure to hit that one spot that makes your toes curl and legs go numb. Not that you mind at all, you can barely walk anyway. When he pulls away for air you find him gazing at you, eyes glazed over with the need to see you fall apart for him, his stamina depleting rapidly. Luckily, you can already feel the mind-numbing feeling climbing up your spine with every pull of his length.

“You take me so well, my love, I cannot wait to feel you let go around me. Come on, darling, let me feel you pulse and pull all my cum back inside you.” Upon his command, you release the spring that has been coiling inside you and let yourself fall.

This orgasm is far different than the one’s you have had before. It starts off softly, your body relaxing to the point where you think you’ll sink right through the mattress, but then a flame courses through you and singes all of your nerves until all of your muscles lock and you are caught in a silent scream. Jimin is the one who curses when your core begins to swallow around him, the spasms almost harsh enough to knock the wind out of both of you as he continues lifting you over his length. He keeps fucking you through it, staring at the dazed expression on your face as you arch your back under him, the contractions at your center getting unbearably stronger until you are nearly pushing him out, a pressure forcing against his thrusts that he has never felt before. The wetness between you magnifies tenfold as liquid begins to spurt from you every time he pulls out, splashing against his abdomen and dripping down your ass. It isn’t buckets, but it is enough to make a mess as both of your cum mixes, his cock lathered to the point where it’s hard for him not to slip out.

When you finally take a breath it comes out as a shout, followed by a jumble of words when your hands shoot to his arms just as the trembles in your body take hold. With two more strokes, he pulls out, thumb rubbing at your clit quickly to force out more liquid with how strong your empty hole squeezes. He smiles at the sounds you make, pulling his hand away when you beg, watching you curl up instantly, still thrashing with the ongoing surge of pleasure. Gentle fingers move your fringe from your eyes, calming you with a warm hand caressing your side.

“Wow.” Is all your husband can say, also taking his time recovering and allowing his length to soften fully. He collapses onto the bed behind you, pulling your body to his and attacking you with kisses all over your shoulders and neck, twisting you onto your back until he can reach your face and peck his way to your lips. He cradles your head in his hands as he slows, savoring the taste of your mouth and the smile he can feel against his lips.

Your mind is blank when you look at him again, completely blissed out and unable to have any thoughts. You lay there for several minutes, just cuddling each other and smiling, not knowing what to say. Jimin is the first to break the silence.

“Your servants are going to be livid with you.” He chuckles, referring to the ruined bedsheets.

“No, our servants are going to be livid with us. Do not exclude yourself from this, My King.” He shivers at the name, not yet used to it, but it bring a pride to his chest when he hears it from your lips.

“Are you completely satisfied with our first night together, my love?”

“Our first night? It is far from it.” You scoff, closing your eyes.

“Do not let anyone else in the kingdom hear that, our rule would surely be doomed if word were to get out.” He reminds you lightheartedly, though he is correct.

“Ah, yes. In that case: our first night together was delightful, more than I could have ever hoped for. If, for some reason, I had sexual relations with you before our marriage— which I certainly have not— I would go as far as to say that it was the best time I have ever had.” You grin cheekily, pecking him on the nose with a laugh.

“I feel the same.” He replies honestly, capturing your lips in a lazy kiss that tangles your limbs and makes your stomach do backflips. “I discovered a few things about you tonight, Love, and a new talent. I cannot wait to explore it more.” Jimin stands to begin his cleanup job, grabbing a cloth and wetting it before strolling back over to where you lay motionlessly. If you were weak before, you are now totally drained, your legs and toes still tingling from your bent position and the extreme orgasms he forced out of you. It’s almost laughable how exhausted you look.

“I suppose next time we will know what to expect.” You yawn, sighing when the warm cloth touches your skin.

“Next time? Who says we are finished for tonight?” He inquires, opening your legs to peer at his own cum dripping out of your opening. “If we are seriously attempting to get you pregnant, should we not try more than once a day?”

“I do not know if I can handle more.” You complain, squirming even when he wipes between your legs until you are clean.

“Do not worry, dinner should be here soon and then we can nap, but it is far too early to go to sleep. As I said before, we have all night, there is no need to rush.”

Lilian enters nearly an hour later with steaming trays of food, busy as always and barely paying attention.

“Oh it smells horrendous in here, maybe I should replace these candles.” She mumbles to herself, cracking open a window after placing your plates in front of you and Jimin. It is only after she mindlessly starts tidying up does she notice your sleepy forms, taking in your droopy eyes and Jimin’s smug face. “I see you appear to be in better condition, Your Majesty. I trust that everything has been resolved?”

“Yes, Lilian, I am doing much better. Just a little sore.” One look at her narrowed eyes tells you that she knows exactly what transpired between you and the King.

“The King seems to be very adept at taking care of you. You may soon not need me at all.” She grins, picking up clothing from the carpet.

“Not to worry, I do not aim to steal your occupation. There are just certain things that I am more suited to care for in regards to our Queen.” He is far too smug for your liking and you frown, elbowing him in the side as he and Lilian share giggles. She is probably the only servant he will get this close to, but it still makes you uncomfortable how they talk so freely about your private matters.

“Thank you, Lilian, that will be all.” You say with a tight smile. Her eyes flick down to the wet spot on the center of the bed, eyebrows shooting up as she makes her exit.

“Shall I order new sheets, Your Highnesses?”

“THAT WILL BE ALL, LILIAN.”

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

This chapter contains canon typical violence, smut, mentions of blood, major character death.

Small Time Witch (31)

It had been three days and you hadn’t heard from Loki. The little screwdriver around your neck was barely warm. His heart rate was erratic and sometimes barely existent. You were beginning to think Odin was right. You sat alone on the field where Loki would lead Thanos. You sat waiting for him every day.

The field was filled with wild flowers. You picked a few and braided them into a crown. It was warm and the sun kissed your skin making it glow. When this was all over you would re sod this field. The people of Vanaheim deserved to have nice spaces. While you were deep in thought you didn’t notice the presence until she was sitting next to you. She was always with you in some capacity. Always whispering in your ear. Begging you to follow her. These last few days her voice has been louder than anyone else.

“Took you long enough to show your face.” You didn’t look over. You knew what Death looked like.

“You’ve been waiting for me?”

“What’s to wait for? You’re always with me. Have been for the last ten years. Longest relationship I’ve had.”

She laughed, “I made you what you are. Shaped you into the person you’ve become. I’m here to see my creation’s first steps.”

You sat quietly enjoying the breeze together. You set the crown on her head. She smiled for a moment then the followers wilted. She frowned and plucked off the crown and set it in her lap. You hovered your hand over it springing it back to life.

“Is this what you envisioned when you fucked with my life? Did you put me here so that I could fight your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Semantics. You love him.”

“I do. I’ll take him with me today.”

“You’ll take him in pieces.”

“So violent. Unbecoming of a princess.”

“I’m not a princess.”

“Semantics.” She smiled showing you all of her perfectly polished teeth.

“Is Loki alive?”

“Barely. Thanos will bring him alive to the battle. Don’t let him get in your head. He knows you’ll be moved to save Loki. You have a job to do.”

“And when I do it, what side of the battlefield will you be on?”

“The winning side. Get some rest, my sweet. Tomorrow is going to be a son of a bitch.” She winked at you and disappeared. You knew what you had to do. When the time came you would be ready.

——————————————————————

The eve of battle. Everyone was antsy. You could practically smell the adrenaline. It’s thick fog choked you when you walked into a room full of people. You made some modifications to your plans which involved magic you could barely do, The Ancient One, Auntie Agatha and Wanda. You had to get Loki away from Thanos as soon as they land. You had to strike fast and hard. They were prepared.

You sat alone at a table ignoring the merriment. You almost didn’t notice your coven and Wanda filing in. They held hands and your mother and Helene rested their hands on your shoulders. Frigga stood behind you making you the center of the circle. They invoked Hecate and Diana to be by your side. “May your magic be strong and your resolve stronger.” Helene chanted.

“And may Thanos know who is the baddest witch in every known universe.” Agatha chimed in.

“Blessed be!” they all cheered.

“Ladies, tomorrow, please aid in evacuating the outlying villages. I don’t want innocent lives lost. Lana, Constance, Margot and Flora, you will stay behind with several of the light elves to keep the palace grounds protected.”

“Why does the new girl get to go to the battle grounds with you?” Constance whined. Mobius was right. It should have been her.

Before you could answer Agatha chimed in, “When you have magic as powerful as Wanda you can fight the aliens. Keep practicing, sweetheart.” You almost spit out your wine you were laughing so hard.

The little screwdriver felt hot against your chest. You could feel Loki. “SHIT! They are almost here!” You stood on the table and shouted, “Shut up! Everyone shut the fuck up! They’re early! Get to your assignments now!”

Hilde fitted you with with armor and you all raced to your positions. Those who were going to Asgard got to the field and called for Heimdall. You kept your eyes trained on Steve and whispered a silent prayer that he’d be safe.

You and Helene lit up the field as much as you could with energy balls. Around the perimeter the Vanir set torches ablaze. Freyr joined you and the ladies to concentrate your strongest magic on Thanos to incapacitate him early. Hilde, Thor and Ororo were on guard as well.

Thanos’ ships landed spraying earth all along the front lines. Frost giants snarled and banged their shields. Thanos stepped off of his ship holding Loki over his shoulder like a rag doll. Just as predicted, Cull Obsidian and Proxima Midnight did not exit the ship with them. You called for Heimdall to show you. They landed there. Danvers added that the Nova Corps and the Sovereign reported Thanos’ troops on Xandar. He was punishing anyone who helped you. Tony said a ship landed outside of DC. Shield , Rhodey and the rest of the X-men were handling business there. You prepared for this and ensured that armies were ready in all the nine realms. No one was safe from this disease.

While Thanos walked down the ramp of his ship, his troops and yours held stock still and aching to fight. Your own plan was clear. Get Loki, kill Thanos, make sure Tony dies, snap the rest out of existence. You could not be shaken.

Thanos picked up Loki by the scruff of his neck. Agatha kept a hand on you. “Stay with us. No stupid mistakes.” she whispered to you. Of course, because he’s an arrogant prick, he made a speech.

“Look at you, hiding behind your wife’s skirt. Your weakness is disgusting. How easy it was to sway you to my side. You are a failure.”

“I am a god” he croaked “and my wife is going to rip you apart.”

“Now!” You shouted and sent a beam of energy straight at Thanos. You had him on his knees. Pietro swooped in and grabbed Loki. He took him to Frigga and Njord then rejoined the fight.

Thanos screamed as his armor split and his weapon clanged on the ground. “Go, you idiots!” His troops mobilized and so did yours.

Just as you planned, the barrier went up when he called for airstrikes. The firepower from the guns could not penetrate effectively protecting your troops. Unfortunately also Thanos’ troops. Danvers and Valkyrie incapacitated the ships right away. The Ebony Maw had Tony in his grasp. Tony wouldn’t be able to fight him off. One of the Maw’s spikes penetrated the Arc Reactor. You heard Thor screaming for him. Hulk rushed to him and tried shaking him awake. He was gone.

You almost lost it hearing your friends scream for Tony through your comms. This time you didn’t shut them off. You deserved to hear it. Out of nowhere, an additional beam of magic hit Thanos. It was brilliant green and strong.

“Miss me, Pet?” Loki shouted looking strong. Frigga Njord and Maja worked fast to heal him.

“We’ve got him! Go!” You screamed to everyone else. You stopped using your magic and let the stones take over. Your whole body glowed and your eyes went white. You grabbed Loki’s hand and intensified his magic. Thanos was in complete agony. While Loki weighed him down with chains that sprouted from the ground, you rested your boot on his chest. He couldn’t breathe.

“This is over.” You snapped and his ships and all of his troops started to disintegrate. You got confirmation that they were going down everywhere. You knelt down next to him and got up close to his ear, “I hope you rot and I hope it hurts.”

Thor came behind you with Mjølnir resting on his shoulder, “Go for the head, Brother.” With one swing he delivered the fatal blow. His blood sprayed your face and body. You didn’t move until his heart stopped.

Death rested her hand on your shoulder, “I’m impressed.” Her voice was amused but you could see she was shaken seeing Thanos in this state.

“I knew you would be.” Just for good measure, you electrocuted his body until it turned to ash. You swept it all up in a little wind and dumped it into a box that you sent deep within Vanaheim’s core.

Death smiled again, “You don’t trust me to hang on to him?”

You chuckled, “I jumped time and almost died taking in these stones to save my man. No telling what you’d do.”

“Smart girl. I taught you well.” The two of you embraced and she shimmered away.

Everyone in your general vicinity was staring at you. You could hear a pin drop.

“What? We’re old friends.”

“Like in Harry Potter!” Lana shouted excitedly. You nearly fell over laughing.

——————————————————————

All in all you had very few casualties. The armies of the Nine were virtually unscathed. Your greatest loss, of course, was Tony. The crew from Asgard rejoined you. You gave them space to mourn privately. With Wong’s help, you expelled the Time Stone and gave it back to The Ancient One. They opened up portals for all Midgardians to return home. You said your goodbyes to all of your family and friends as they left. Your mother made you promise you’d be along to visit soon. You reminded Agatha you still had the Kale’s to deal with. You’d be home soon enough.

You made your way over to the Avengers to extend your condolences. You fashioned a vessel for his body to arrive safely back on Earth. They all shook your hand as they filed out. All except Steve who drew you in for a hug. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Captain. He fought valiantly.”

“Thank you, Princess. We know going into any battle there could be losses. He’s not the first friend I’ve had to say goodbye to.” That broke your heart especially knowing Bucky was alive.

“Does he have a family?”

“A girlfriend. His parents are deceased.”

“I’m so sorry again. Please, never hesitate to call on me should you need my help.”

“Thank you.” He followed Tony’s body through the portal.

Loki eyed you suspiciously. “Save it. I’ll tell you later” you groaned as you stretched.

“You are a dazzling liar, my little queen.”

“Oh, king of my heart, you have no idea.”

You went to the great hall with the intention of going to bed soon after. But, doing battle works up an aggressive appetite. You ate and drank until you were about to bust and then you drank some more. You were laid out on the table while Thor regaled everyone with tales from the battlefield. You nearly made it out when he suggested body shots. You and Loki declined but we’re far too entertained to leave the party. Hilde turned to you and smiled. You knew that smile. She just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“Just one.” She jingled the shot glass in front of your face. You couldn’t resist her.

“One! Hilde, just one.” You took her hand which she pulled away. “Well where do you want it?” She unbuttoned the top two of her shirt. There were hoops and hollers a plenty. You shook your head and didn’t dare make eye contact with your husband. You sprinkled the salt in her cleavage, licked slowly, did the shot and went for the citrus wedge. She spit it out and kissed you. Loki’s annoyance grew almost to the point of anger. You pulled away with her cackling like a crazy person.

“Is that the face other me wanted?!”

“You are going to get me in so much trouble.”

“I certainly hope so.” She winked at you and went back to your friends.

Loki stood from the table and made his way to you, “If you are quite finished, I would like to take you to bed, wife.”

“I am so ready, husband.” He picked you up and slung you over his shoulder. You yelped when he smacked your bottom.

He was undressing you before you even got to the door. He pushed you against the wall just outside the great hall and slipped his hands into your waistband. “Mmmm. So wet for me, darling.”

“All for you, my king.” He was so hard straining against leather. It was nearly painful. You were falling apart in his hands. “If you keep doing that I’m going to cum.” You were breathless. Chest heaving out sharp pants.

“I want you to. I want everyone to know how I make you feel. You are mine and I want the world to know it.”

You cried his name over and over again when you met your release. He set you down smothering you with his lips. “Take me to bed or I’m going to pull out your cock right here.”

“Ha promises promises.” he says against your lips. You trail your hand down to his pants and undo the buttons. When you pulled him closer he winced in pain. You took your hand away and lifted his shirt to see he was still bruised and bleeding from a wound on his side.

“Lok..” the higher you lifted his shirt the more damage you saw. “Oh. Loki...”

“It doesn’t hurt” he whispered trying to pull you back in for a kiss.

“Stop, Loki. Come on. Let me get you to bed.” He followed you into the bedroom and you started undressing him. “No more illusions.”

“Lie down, Pet. I’m going to fuck you silly.” He lifted off his shirt and you burst into tears. “Please don’t cry. You said no more illusions. Y/N, I’m dying to be inside of you. I will go slow. I just need to feel you wrapped around me.”

“God. I can’t believe you, Loki! You could have killed yourself. Look at you! You’re still bleeding. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“My love, I will only be hurting if I don’t get to fuck you. Please. Don’t make me beg.” You needed him too. For the next few hours you lost yourselves. There was no more pain. No more degradation. No more expectations. Just the two of you.

[miaouerie]

whumptober 2020 ----- day 5. rescue

@whumptober2020​ Rebelcaptain Hunger Games AU: Cassian is Jyn’s mentor in the 70th Hunger Games.

content warnings: graphic descriptions of canon-typical violence, minor character deaths (OCs)

previous: day 1 / 2  / 3 / 4

Aside from the clearing that the Cornucopia was in, the 62nd Hunger Games Arena was a huge grassy field, with grass so tall that the tributes who got away from the bloodbath effectively disappeared into it. Spaced far and wide were single-standing pine trees, towering over the grassy sea of green as the only available bastions of shelter. But the grass was so tall that only tributes who had some luck would accidentally stumble upon them.

Cassian wasn’t so lucky. But on the third day he did stumble upon the tributes from District 11 and the tree that they must have been using as a base. They were making far too much noise for what would be prudent, and they definitely didn’t see or hear Cassian observing them from the thicket of grass surrounding the small clearing. As he gets closer, he finds out why.

“Arbor, we have to kill him,” a female voice is saying. Cassian mentally plays back the list of tributes who are still alive. The speaker must be Teak, then. “Why did you even bother to drag him back here? When he wakes up he’s going to kill both of us!”

When Cassian chances a peek through the grass, he’s crouched at the eye level of Teak’s knee, staring from behind her tanned legs at a body on the ground, past which he can see Arbor standing close by. The unconscious heap looks to be the male tribute from District 2, Helix. And Arbor’s hand is gripping the handle of a double-headed axe.  

“We don’t have to,” Arbor’s insisting, his voice pitched in a way that indicates how long they’ve been arguing for. “That’s exactly what they want us to do.”

“Yes! That’s why Fauna sent you the axe. Because she and Lobo agree that you can kill with it better than me! Whoever sent it most definitely didn’t mean for me to have it.” A pause. “It’d be a cleaner kill than I could do, that’s for sure. Less… chopping.”

“We shouldn’t have to kill though, Teak. That’s the bloodsport that they want to see. That’s why they sent an axe, out of all the weapons they could’ve. But see, instead of becoming murderers we can lay down low, survive ‘til the end like the smart ones do—”

“And what, getting away with not killing each other?” Teak scoffs. “It’s in the rules. They’ll have only one of us be the victor.”

“We can cross that bridge when we get there. For now, I think we should wait for this guy to wake up and see if he wants to ally.”

“—which I’m saying, isn’t gonna happen. He’s a Career! I still can’t believe that you got the drop on him before he could turn around and kill you. But what I’m saying is, he’s not going to wake up all brand new and say ‘Oh gee, an alliance with District 11 sounds like a fantastic idea!’”

The machete’s handle is sweaty in Cassian’s grip. If he can sneak up on Arbor, he’s pretty sure Teak won’t fight back. She might run, she might not, but from the looks of it she doesn’t have any large weapon to worry about. Now, how to get Arbor closer to the edge of the clearing…

But before Cassian can think of a plan, the Career between the two springs up and bellows bloody murder. Helix is a hulking powerhouse of an 18-year old, and he immediately goes for Teak. Cassian uses the distraction to dash round the edge of the clearing to Arbor’s undefended back and then he leaps out of the tall grass, throwing his arms around the boy’s neck.  

Arbor stumbles, but doesn’t fall over, and while he still has the shock of surprise Cassian slashes down at the older boy’s torso with the machete, using the opportunity to kick at Arbor’s griphold on the axe.  

It works. He has precious few seconds to finish him off. But Arbor’s neck is slippery with sweat, and Cassian almost slips off his back when the dark-skinned boy reaches around back, gets a grip on Cassian’s left leg, and pulls.  

They both end up on the ground, with Cassian getting the wind knocked out of him from the impact. His only saving grace is that when he’s able to roll himself over Arbor’s already on his knees, raising a hand to the deep gash Cassian’s machete tore into his side. Cassian had felt the blade cleave all the way to the bones of his ribcage, cutting through even as they fell to the ground. Cassian forces himself to move past the pain in his diaphragm and staggers forward, pushing at Arbor’s shoulder to turn him just enough so that he can slash his machete into his gut.

Don’t kill quickly, his father’s words come to mind. The longer you let them bleed out, the higher your ratings. Sponsors will see that and want to see more of it. That’s when I can send you supplies.

So once Cassian has assured himself that Arbor is incapacitated he goes for Helix, who is caught up in pummeling Teak against the trunk of the tree. Dropping the machete and snatching up Arbor’s axe, he uses both hands to swing it and drive the blade straight into the Career’s back.  

Helix lets out an anguished yell as he falls over; Teak slides down the trunk of the tree, retching out blood. None of them are in any condition to fight Cassian, but he still wants to make this quick.  

But should he? Or should he prolong it for the cameras, throw in a taunt or three? Helix is moaning on the ground; he might have fought through a concussion for a last-ditch attempt to kill, but there’s no way he’s moving anywhere with that axe embedded in his spine. Arbor is bleeding out, having rolled onto his back during the fray. And Teak…

Cassian looks at her mangled face where a lot of the Career’s blows landed. When she speaks her words are slurred and blood dribbles out of her bleeding mouth. “Just… jus’ get on with it already.”

In the seconds that follow and for the rest of his life, Cassian will always hate himself for what he says next: “I can’t.”

He moves around to the opposite side of the tree’s trunk and begins to climb up the tree. The roar of blood in his ears has subsided with the slowing of adrenaline, and he feels suddenly hyperaware of the stillness in the clearing. The bark scrapes under his boots as he boosts himself up the trunk, eventually edging himself out over the clearing on one of the pine’s lower branches.  

While he’s climbing Teak screams at him between gargles and gasps for breath. “Where the fuck are you going? What the fuck are you doing? Just kill us already! Put us out of this misery!

“What are you waiting for?!”

Hours pass. Cassian keeps wishing for another tribute to come, ideally another bloodthirsty Career who wouldn’t hesitate to finish off three dying tributes and add those kills to their tally; if they spot him, maybe they can kill him, too. But no one else comes.  

Teak’s screaming turns into moans and sobbing and eventually hiccups and silence as the artificial sun moves through its path in the artificial sky. A cannon eventually sounds, and before dusk two more follow. Cassian stays hidden in the tree until he remembers that even if he plans to stay in the tree for the night, he’ll have to move away from it first so that the hovercraft can pick up the bodies. So he maneuvers back down the trunk, being careful to avoid the side where Teak’s broken body lay.  

He considers Helix’s body lying a short distance away, then decides against trying to yank the axe out. It wasn’t a weapon he could confidently wield, so he instead looks for his machete and finds it near where he grappled with Arbor. Arbor has a near-empty skein of water on him, so he takes that too.

Then he heads into the grass, waiting until he hears the sound of the hovercraft moving in to take away the dead tributes. Then he quietly moves back.

As he hoists himself back up onto the lowest branch of the tree, somehow a silver parachute comes to land gently on the junction of two branches an arm’s length in front of him. He unwraps it. His stomach growls. On a golden platter is a small cake, elegantly frosted and wrapped with tiny silver cutlery, and he’s reminded that in this Arena he hasn’t managed to find much to eat since before the Games.

On the cake are three words written in fancy piped icing. Reading them makes him want to cry.  

His real birthday always came during a time of distress in the Andor family; because of the time of year his father was almost guaranteed to be in the Capitol, busy with victor and mentor duties for the Games. Instead, his family would celebrate his birthday on the day of the autumnal equinox, a safe space in between the conclusion of that year’s Games and Victory Tour.  

But this year, he’s here in the Arena and his father has to arrange sponsorships for him to outlast killing other children and his mother is watching all of this happen on a nationwide broadcast. So he looks into the blank space of air before him, says “Thank you,” with his best teary-eyed smile, and begins to eat.

[lilyandersonn]

I Need You To Be All I Believe In // Dean Winchester

Dean Winchester x OFC 

Warnings: mentions of violence and torture, some strong language, implied smut, kinda angsty

Words: 2400

Summary: Eleanor is kidnapped and tortured by a demon for information about Jack. After he saves her, Dean struggles with the thought that she nearly died, which leads to admissions of feelings that they’ve both kept hidden until now.

*this is my first published supernatural fanfic so pls be nice*

“I’m just not getting through to you, am I? I think we might have to turn this up a notch.”

  The demon nudged Eleanor’s side hard with his booted foot, his lips curling into a satisfied grin as his nudge landed directly on the broken ribs there. Eleanor was too exhausted to cry out or move away, but the quiet, dejected whimper that escaped her lips was indication enough that he’d hurt her.

  Despite her entire body screaming in protest, Eleanor lifted her head just slightly to meet her captor’s black eyes. Her left eye was swollen and purple, obscuring her vision, but she could see well enough to watch as the demon walked over to the table behind him and pick up the knife he’d discarded about an hour or so ago. He wiped her congealed blood from the blade on his arm, before turning back to her again, the same sadistic smirk on his face that he’d had since she’d woken up in the cell.

   It had only been two days since he’d got the jump on her, but in Eleanor’s mind it could have been weeks. The torture was becoming unbearable – she considered herself a strong person, she’d experienced and seen a lot in her line of work that had hardened her to things that a normal person would crumble in the face of, but she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take. A swollen eye and a couple of broken ribs was only the beginning.

  Her entire body was littered with bruises, all varying shades and sizes. From her wrist to elbow on both arms it looked as though there was no more skin – just raw and bloody flesh, in different shades of red and pink. Bright purple welts decorated her neck like an unfortunate necklace – those were new, only that morning had the demon wrongly thought asphyxiation might be the answer to getting her to talk. A deep wound ran across her abdomen, still weeping crimson coloured blood. Every inch of her hurt and ached.

 There was no more fight left in her – staying awake for longer than twenty minutes was a challenge, let alone trying to figure out how to escape. She knew somewhere out there her boys would be desperately trying to find her, but at the same time she knew the demon was growing tired of her refusal to talk, and she couldn’t be sure how much longer he’d keep her alive.

  She was beginning to acknowledge that she might never see her family again. And although she didn’t fear dying, she’d accepted that the life would kill her sooner rather than later, she was terrified of leaving her family behind. They weren’t exactly the move on and accept death, type of people. She could accept her own death, it was her family that wouldn’t be able to.

  Losing the strength to keep her head lifted to watch the demon, Eleanor’s head flopped back down onto the floor, but he kneeled onto the floor and gripped her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look back at him.

  His eyes flashed black, lifting the knife to her neck and pressing it down just hard enough to draw a droplet of blood, “Where is the boy?”

  “Bite me.” Eleanor managed to choke out, her throat sore and scratchy from lack of hydration.

  The demon’s hand left her face only to grab a fistful of her blood-matted hair, slamming her head into the floor before pulling her head back up so she met his eyes once more, “The Winchester boys are never going to find you, so you might as well tell me before you die.”

  When Eleanor responded by pressing her lips together and turning her head, the demon repeated his actions a few more times until eventually the force and pain caused her to black out.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d been passed out when she woke to a commotion. She barely had the energy to open her eyelids to sneak a peek at what was going on, but she could recognise the sound of a fight from a mile away.

  “Sam, look out!”

  Dean’s unmistakeable gruff voice gave Eleanor just enough momentum to open her eyes and lift her head, her entire body flooding with relief at the sight of him, Sam and Castiel struggling with the demon. The demon was charging at Sam, but Dean was quick to step in-front of him, plunging the demon blade into his chest.

  The demon’s body hadn’t even hit the ground before Dean was rushing to kneel at Eleanor’s side. He tried to take her into his arms but recoiled as she cried out in pain from the smallest of touch.

  “Cas, help her,” Dean said, his voice cracking as he pushed a piece of matted hair out of her face and looked at the injuries that littered her body in horror, “it’s okay, Nellie, we’re here, we’ve got you.”

 “Dean,” she whimpered out, a single tear of relief escaping from the corner of her eye as she struggled to lift a hand to grip his.

  “Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay,” he whispered softly, stroking the back of her palm with his thumb as Castiel kneeled next to them, Eleanor blacking out again, “come on, man, help her.”

*

  The journey back to the bunker was completely silent, after Dean demanded that Castiel and Sam left Eleanor alone to rest before bombarding her with questions about the events of the past couple of days. He himself had plenty of questions of his own, but one look at her exhausted figure sleeping against Castiel silenced him.

  Dean’s knuckles for white as he gripped the steering wheel, unable to shake the image of finding Eleanor’s bloodied and beaten up body. He’d seen her hurt from hunts too many times to count, but never like that. Never had he seen her so beat up that he thought she was dead.

  “Dean—”

  “Don’t, Sam,” Dean said, stopping his brother from spewing out whatever ‘comforting’ brotherly speech he had planned.

  The three men sat in silence for another few moments, the only sound the rumble of the impala’s engine and Eleanor’s quiet snores.

  “How the hell could this happen,” Dean finally said, gripping the steering wheel even tighter, “how could we let this happen?”

  “None of us could have known, Dean,” Sam said tentatively, not wanting to provoke his brother anymore, “she was out for groceries, how we were we meant to know she’d get ambushed?”

  “I should have never let her go alone.”

  “Let her?” Sam scoffed, “When have you ever let her do anything? You’re not her dad, she does what she wants, man.”

  Dean simply grunted in response, knowing his brother was right – Eleanor had never been the one to be bossed around by anyone, especially not Dean. If he’d told her not to go or not to go alone, she probably would have gone alone anyway just to prove a point to him.

  They settled back into silence for the rest of the journey.

  Eleanor only stirred when Dean pulled into the bunkers garage, rubbing her eyes and moving away from Castiel, shooting him a sheepish smile.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” Sam said as he opened the car door for her, holding his hand out to help her.

  She frowned, swatting his hands away, “I’m tired, not incapacitated,” she said, getting out of the car on her own, “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

  The three men watched helplessly as Eleanor quickly walked away, disappearing into the bunker without a second glance.

*

  Eleanor closed her eyes as the hot, steamy water hit her body. Titling her face up to the stream, she relished in the warmth as the water washed away the dried sweat and blood. After a while of just standing underneath the water, she took her favourite vanilla scented shower gel and began to scrub her body.

  When the water eventually ran cold and all the dried blood had been washed away, Eleanor left the shower and wrapped herself up in her pink fluffy towel. She revelled in the softness against her bare skin, a welcomed sensation and a stark contrast from a few hours earlier.

  Walking back into her bedroom, running a comb through her clean hair, she jumped as she found Dean seated on the edge of her bed. He barely acknowledged that she’d entered the room, simply staring at the bedroom door.

  “You scared me,” she said, pulling the towel tighter against her body self-consciously.

  “We nearly lost you,” Dean said emotionlessly, still staring at the bedroom door but Eleanor could see the tears glistening at his eyes and the way he was tightly clenching his jaw – something she knew he did when we was really upset, “I nearly lost you.”

  “Dean, hey look at me,” Eleanor said, taking a step forward but purposefully not too close as she was still very aware of her state of undress, “I’m safe now, everything is okay.”

  He finally met her gaze; a flicker of an emotion Eleanor couldn’t recognise igniting in his forest coloured eyes.

  “I’ve been going out of my damn mind these past two days, I thought I was never going to see you again,” he said, his words growing louder as he spoke but his voice cracking, “I thought you were dead."

  “Dean—”

  “Hell, when we found you there was so much blood, all I could think was—”

  “Dean.”

  The words died on his tongue as Eleanor carefully kneeled in-front of him, taking his face in her shaky hands. Her heart pounded against her chest at their closeness, but she forced herself to ignore it, focusing instead on making her best-friend feel better.

  “I can’t even think about what I’d do if you were—”

  “Shh, stop thinking like that,” she said, stroking her thumb across his cheek to wipe away the stray tear that escaped the corner of his eye, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears, “I’m here, I’m safe, you saved me.”

  “I-I was so scared, Nell’, so fucking terrified that I was never gonna get you back,” Dean whispered, the out-of-character vulnerability he was showing springing tears to her eyes, “I don’t know what I would have done,”

  “You were the only thing that got me through, De’,” Eleanor admitted, swiping away a couple of tears from her own cheeks, “I just knew you were out there somewhere doing whatever you could to find me, and I knew your stubborn ass wouldn’t leave me there without a fight.”

  Dean closed his eyes, relishing in the feel of her hands on his skin, after days of thinking she was dead. Not even thinking about it, Eleanor leaned her forehead against his and closed her eyes. The two were both too caught up in the moment to acknowledge the unusual level of intimacy they were sharing – they had always been close, but there had always been this unspoken line that they’d toed for years that stopped them from going any further and confronting their feelings for each-other.

  “I love you.”

   Eleanor’s admission snapped them both out of the moment. She quickly stood and took a few steps back, fixing the towel tighter around her body again. Her heart was slamming so furiously against her chest she was beginning to think it might burst out at any moment.

  They’d said those words to each-other on so many occasions, but they both knew this time it was different – it felt too intimate to be a platonic ‘I love you like a brother’. There was a gravity to her words that was different from all the times before.

  Dean’s eyes were wide as rose from the bed, taking a tentative step towards her but stopped as she lifted a hand in protest.

  “I’m tired, you should go.” Eleanor whispered her face still contorted in unmasked horror as she regarded the significance of what she’d just said. She was so far over the line that they’d carefully toed for years that it was just a blur in her peripheral.

  “Nellie—”

  “Dean, please, just go.”

  Ignoring her words, Dean continued to take more tentative steps towards her. Seeing that she wasn’t protesting just yet, he took one last step that left little distance between them. He was so close that she could feel his minty breath against the tips of her cheeks, and she had to force herself to meet his eyes instead of staring at his mouth.

  “Dean.” she breathed out, as he mimicked her earlier actions and cupped her face in his hands.

  “I love you, Nellie,” he said, his voice breathy and quiet, “and I’m sorry it took you nearly dying for me to finally grow the balls to tell you, even if you did beat me to it.”

  “Dean—”

  Eleanor let out an unintentional gasp as his lips met hers, but quickly melting into his kiss.

  As though with a mind of their own, her arms circled around his waist, one hand trailing up and down his spine, the other pulling him closer until the distance between them was non-existent. Despite hours spent thinking about what it would be like to do this with him, Eleanor was completely unprepared for how soft and comforting his kiss would be. It was like coming home – like he was her home.

  The kiss obliterated any other thought she might have had in that moment – all she could think about was committing the feel of his tongue trailing against the seam of her lips and his hand tangled in her wet hair to memory. The events of the last few days evaporated, and the feel of his body pressed tightly to her own consumed her entirely.

  They both pulled away to gasp for air, sickly-sweet grins on both their faces.

  “You have absolutely no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Dean breathed out, a boyish smirk appearing on his mouth as he toyed with the end of Eleanor’s towel that was now only being kept up by Dean’s body against hers.

  “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” Eleanor said, stepping away from him to let the towel drop to the floor, “but maybe we should do it again just to make sure,”

  Dean groaned at the sight of her, “God, I love you,”

[xenoredux]

The Legend of Silver Fang - Episode 5: The Beasts

If you haven’t read episode 4 yet, you can do so here.

As mentioned before, the major story beats and overarching plot are the same. This is written under the supposition that, in fantasy land, this is a mini series with episodes that run about 2 hours in length each.

Some things to be aware of going in:

This story is violent as shit!!! CONTENT WARNING FOR: Animal injuries, animal death, sickness via poisoning, eye trauma, weaponry, cannibalism, fire damage to property and animals, wacky cult antics, child abuse and endangerment, suicide, starvation, dogfighting, bullying, and idk probably something else terrible. Seriously don’t read if you don’t like this kind fuckery

I was trying to achieve a decent adaptation that combines the strongest elements of the anime and manga. It will not be precisely like either and will occasionally totally deviate from both

This isn’t meant to be “better” then the canon. It’s just the way I’d go about rewriting the Akakabuto arc if I had that level of ungodly power lol

Character designs made to represent several mentioned characters can be found here, here, here, here, and here. Others will be left up to the reader’s interpretation. A link to the next episode will also be provided at the end. If a link isn’t available, the next episode just hasn’t been posted yet!

I KEEP POSTING THESE SO LATE IN THE DAY AAAAAHHH

The Igas and Gin are frozen where they float. Kurojaki's teeth clack against the scythe's handle as he sadistically taunts them. This day marks the end of the Iga clan he says (though it sounds more like "Ish ey marsh he and ufh eh Uhguh clun.") Akame barks back someone along the lines of "OH YEAH?" before turning to the others.

The albino levels with them: four against, what, 40? Not good odds. But maybe if there was a diversion some of them could get away. Akame passes his share of herbs to Jinnai and says that no matter what happens the Ohu soldiers must receive these herbs. Even if it costs the remaining Igas their lives and their legacy, no innocents will die just because some mottled dickhead bamboozled them all.

With a final command for them to get moving, Akame vertical leaps outta the lake and busts Koga heads the minute he lands. The other three good guys exit stage right while the gettin's still good. Gin looks back, almost certain someone's gonna come after them, but the Kogas are all too concerned with chasing Akame in circles to care about anything else.

Shinobi slaying is easier said then done, turns out. Akame didn't become Chief Ninja Daddy without some skills to back the title up. He is eventually pinned down by several heftier dogs, but it takes a few minutes of him humiliating his opponents first. As payback one of the cannibals chomps down hard on Akame's hind leg and jerks it back at a nasty angle. Akame lets out a manly scream of pain.

Jinnai, Kirikaze, and that silver guy are still running back home unimpeded when they hear Akame's hollering. Kirikaze is especially affected by his old man's tortured yowls and he begins crying big fat tears of sorrow.

So overwhelmed is he by his progenitor's wails that he tries to double back, but Jinnai tackles him and tries to smack some sense into him. Kirikaze's gotta nut up for Akame's sake. This scolding almost works, but another scream from the chief threatens to break the rest of Kirikaze's resolve.

They have reason to be concerned. Kurojaki's started wiping the forest floor with Akame's pale ass, bruising the Kishu heavily and giving him a nice big slash across the throat. The cut on his neck isn't enough to kill Akame, but combined with his other injuries it's enough to sap his remaining strength from him. As Akame tries to gather his bearings and defend himself the scythe comes down across his neck a second time.

Another scream of agony reaches the trio. Jinnai and Kirikaze are still fighting over whether to save the army of strangers or their dad when Gin decides he can't stand moral dilemas involving family. He spits out his share of herbs and shoves them towards Kirikaze.

Gin tells the bros that he's willing to double back and help Akame so long as they can pull themselves together long enough to cure the Ohu dogs. As the Akita moves towards the marsh, Jinnai asks him if he's so insolent as to disobey the chief's orders.

"Akame isn't my chief," Gin states matter of factly, "so I can do whatever I want." And so he turns and leaves the two Kishus to collect their herbs and continue their journey. Before they go the two decide to come back and help the moment they deliver the plants.

Akame coughs up blood and falls limply to the ground. He's hurting something fierce. He tries to go all Mind Over Matter with his body, but he's having too much trouble standing up to fight anymore. Kurojaki cackles triumphantly. Maya is grinning in a nasty way while their son yips excitedly, too young to understand that Daddy's committing an atrocity.

Emboldened by the support, Kurojaki decides it's time to deliver the killing blow. He leaps towards the incapacitated albino all ready to shreddy, too busy to notice the other Kogas trying to stop a silver striped blur from slamming into him. Gin lunges through the air, grabs Kurojaki by the hind leg, and does an anti-gravity version of the worm that sends both of them flying to the ground. Gin lands elegantly on all fours, but Kurojaki is slammed face first into the dirt. The moment he makes contact with Mother Earth, the cannibal lets out an unholy screech.

Everyone is taken aback - even Akame is frightened by the noise - as Kurojaki continues vicerally screaming for a moment more. It's at this moment that Gin realizes he hadn't seen where the scythe's blade had landed. Kurojaki lifts his trembling head and turns to face Gin.

The blade has been buried deep into the black devil's right eye. Icky red squidge oozes from the wound and down his cheek as he heaves a shallow, rattled breath.

"You little motherfucker," he pants, his remaining eye bulging and rolling around wildly in his head.

The other Kogas are now a terrifying mix of horrified and pissed the fuck off, and Kurojaki's ready to take advantage of that. As Gin gapes in horror at the live demonstration of why running with sharp things is a bad idea Kurojaki commands his crew to tear the invaders limb from limb. He especially wants that little stripey shit's head on a pike.

Obedient as ever, Kurojaki's mohawked mooks spring into action. Gin leaps to Akame's side to protect him. A couple of especially speedy Kogas advance on them before the others, but Gin's entire bloodstream is full of adrenaline right now and he manages to pick them off easily.

Before the rest of the hoard can descend upon them, Gin snags Akame up by the scruff and leaps into the trees with him. The Kogas watch as the two make their getaway. This only serves to frustrate Kurojaki. As Maya is fussing over his sliced up face he screams for the cult to follow the two.

Unaware of what's gone down, Jinnai and Kirikaze continue their jog home. They've been making good time but are stopped suddenly when another dog they've yet to meet jumps out of the bushes before them. He's just as surprised to see them as they are to see him, and they all trip over each other.

The dog, a tempermental German Shepherd, barks that the two dipshits need to watch where they're going next time. The Kishus apologize before scampering off with their herbs.

To the surprise of no one this rude dog is John. The upstart has finally left the village to pursue more heroic avenues. This is nice, but he realizes it's not quite going according to plan when he notices several dogs of intederminate breed running up to him.

These three dogs have the decency to stop and ask if John's seen a couple of white guys with plants in their gobs passing by. John pulls an "I know something that you don't know" face and tells them to fuck off because he's not going to enable them to chase down a couple of geeks with weeds.

This pisses the mohawked mutts off, as does the fact that John stinks of human civilization. They go to give him a taste of Whoopass Stew (1992) before John recites the navy seal copypasta from memory and teaches them some humility via a few well aimed bites and mean names regarding their haircuts. As soon as they realize he's a capable fighter the trio runs off with their tails tucked both metaphorically and literally between their legs.

This is getting bizzare. John's just arrived in this forest and already he's seen two groups of oddballs he can't begin to understand.

Back at the Iga House Gin has brought Akame home. He sets the ninja chief down gently as the other Kishus come to greet them. The Ohu soldiers, most of who are feeling much better now, are also glad to see Gin is still kicking.

Gin's happy to see them as well. He runs over to where they're gathered to more properly say hello. Most dogs are back on their feet, but he can't see the tallest one of them all. He asks where Ben is before realizing by the look on everyone's faces that this isn't a question they want to answer.

The crowd parts to reveal Jinnai has finally gotten Ben to eat his share of antidote. Ben's a hotass mess, though; his eyes are bloodshot, his mouth is foamy with excess saliva, and his muscles are all twitching involuntarily. He looks miserable as he stares aimlessly into the woods.

Akatora comes over to him and offers a friendly nudge and a whispered, "Hey, you okay?" Ben simply responds by snapping at him. Akatora tumbles backwards, stunned that his old friend and mentor would react to him so aggresively.

Akame pads over to Akatora and tells him not to take Ben's bizarre behavior to heart. Ben's had bad shit in his blood longer then everyone else. It's gonna take him a second to come out of this haze.

Luckily the dane seems to be regaining his composure, for he has managed to stand up and steady his limbs. The soldiers seem mostly relieved at the sight, but Gin notices Akame is still staring at Ben in concern. Is there something he's not telling them?

While alla this was going down, Hyena had wandered off by himself and ended up being taken prisoner by the Kogas. Worse still, he's been trafficking the corpses of dead Igas into their slapshod fridge (i.e. a dank, chilly cave).

As he drags the icky, ewwy canine cadavers along, his captures taunt and jeer at him for being both a wuss and their munchie packmule. One particularly nasty looking sucker with no tail tells him to move his ass before they decide to add him to the every-growing pile of carcasses. Hyena just whines miserably and goes back into the body storage. He's just flopped down another lifeless Kishu when he hears a sudden commotion outside. He cowers far back in the cave.

"MORE of these assholes?" says a newcomer. "Jesus, these woods are full of lunatics."

The Kogas have turned to look at their visitor. Three of them point him out as being a direct threat. They'd run into this dickhead in the woods, and though he stinks of men he's more powerful then any housepet they've chomped on before. While the cannibals encircle John, Hyena pokes his head out of the cave just long enough to recognize the GSD as one of the dogs he'd seen at Ohu. What on Earth is HE doing here?

Back at the Iga house the Kishus have organized to face off with the Kogas. Enough is enough. They can't allow any more innocents to get swept up in this stupid war.

Ben is feeling more lucid now and he insists that the Ohu dogs aid the raid against the Kogas. They outnumber the mohawked mongrels together and lbr this has become personal for the troops. Akame worriedly tries to convince Ben not to subject himself or his bros to this, but the dane refuses to leave it alone. Akame reluctantly agrees to let them help and begins leading the way back to the marsh.

Ben is just behind the shinobi, but he's doing a shit job at keeping with the pack. Despite having scolded Gin for running off course, Ben keeps drifting farther and farther off trail. In fact, he's essentially in the treeline now, and a concerned Gin and Cross follow to ask him where he's going.

Ben freezes up. He takes a deep sniff and realizes he's not with the others. Everyone stops running, concerned. Akame attempts to be stoic, but his brow twitches intently.

Ben tells everyone it's nbd bruh, he's just gotta take a piss, it's fine it's fine it's cool it's fine. Akame grunts and tells Kirikaze to continue leading the pack while he checks up on the big guy. Kirikaze nods and directs the others to follow him.

The only stragglers are Gin and Cross. They're both too concerned about Ben to follow orders. The two of them sneak closer to where Akame and Ben are huddled and strain to listen to what they're saying.

Akame looks sadly at Ben as the dane stares blankly ahead.

"Ben," Akame says in a low voice, "look at me."

Ben pauses for a second as if focusing hard, then turns his head. He's not looking at Akame. He's not even close to meeting eyes with him.

"Akame?" he says with a tinge of fear in his voice. "What's happening to me? I can barely see."

Akame sighs and apologizes to Ben for all this. It's a side effect of the poisoning. Ben was doped up on the bad shit long enough that there was potential for it to do some damage to his senses. The eyes and ears are most suseptible to the poison's effects, and it seems like Ben's eyes are feeling the hurt.

Ben's shoulders slump as he softly shakes his head. He figured his sudden astigmatism and fading peripheral vision had been brought on by Akame's bioweapon. He just hadn't wanted to admit it.

Gin is shaken to hear this, but he's not as upset as Cross. The Saluki is trying and failing to contain her tears.

"He'll never see--" she says before running off, unable to stand it anymore. Gin only lets her go when he hears the conversation continue.

Ben asks if he'll become totally blind. Akame says yes. Ben asks if he'll be blind forever. Akame says yes again. Ben asks if he'll be able to keep up his duties as commander. Akame doesn't respond directly but instead tries to soothe the dane by saying that he owes Ben a great debt and will pay it forward by being his eyes.

Ben takes a moment to think before thanking the Kishu, but he has a request. Cross is ready to take his place as commander when he becomes totally incapacitated, but as she was his successor she'll need a right hand dog of her own. Akame figures that all Ben's soldiers are so jacked that any of them would do nicely, but Ben has his eyes (no pun intended) set on one guy in particular.

That kid Gin... he's a good fighter, sure, but he's also young and eager and empathetic. He's got a good head on his shoulders, boundless potential, and clearly has had some training before. Within a few months he'll be fully grown, and by then he'll make a great lieutenant. Gin only now realizes he's been holding his breath.

Meanwhile, John has made quick work of the lingering Kogas, adding those who didn't flee to the abnormally high count of dog bodies in the area. When he's sure it's safe to come out of hiding, Hyena slinks out of the cave to meet John.

John recognizes the little twerp from Ohu mountain, but he's still in Fight or Fight mode so instead of saying hi he just gears up to cream him. Hyena whimpers and begs for mercy, insisting that the Kogas took him as a POW and that he's still loyal to the Ohu army. John rolls his eyes and takes Hyena's word for it before turning to leave.

Hyena dares not be alone in this above-ground graveyard, so he follows John. The shepherd either doesn't realize or doesn't care that Hyena's his new little tagalong. They wander for a bit, Hyena taking every chance he can to suck up to John, before John tells him to shut the fuck up and listen.

The dogs fall quiet. The sound is faint, but they can distinctly hear a low mumbling, or, more accurately, the muffled sound of a crowd speaking amongst themselves. Someone literally barks a command and all the voices fall silent. John nudges Hyena to follow his lead and the two sneak closer to find out what's going on.

As they advance on the group they realize that it's more of the Kogas. The cannibals are having a meeting.

Kurojaki's eye socket has stopped bleeding and instead has collapsed in on itself, the tattered lids laying concave in his skull. He's sitting atop a boulder looking down at his cult as he gently strokes the babyhawk atop his infant heir's head.

As his son mouths absentmindedly at his father's paws, Kurojaki informs his people that now is the time to strike. They've killed several of the remaining Igas and they still have enough people to take on both the ninjas and any allies they bring with them. It's time to take the Iga homestead as their own and secure a glorious future for their breed. And as an added bonus, he thinks to himself, we can fuck up that guy who took my eye.

Hyena and John take a moment to spy on the hoard from afar. Hyena points out the big guy on the rock as Kurojaki, and it's clear as day that he's the leader of this band of hoodlums. John nods and, having learned nothing from his previous ass whooping at the hands of a pack leader, puffs out his chest and readies himself to attack.

John says he's gonna tear the whole lot to smitherines and singlehandedly lower the cannibal population in the area to 0%. Hyena tries to convince him that attacking a warlord in front of his entire legion of followers is a bad idea, but John's ego demands stroking. He's already taken off in a sprint.

The shepherd tears through several of the Kogas before they even realize what's happening. He rips the throat out of one particularly unfortunate bystander who proceeds to tumble to the ground. The miserable cur seizes wildly as he dies.

Everyone is caught so off guard by this development that they don't stop John when he walks up to the bottom of Kurojaki's perch and tells the merle cyclops that his reign of terror is over. Kurojaki has literally no idea what the fuck is going on, but he rolls with the punches and tells John that he'll be crushed like a bug before the group departs on their actual mission. Before any crushing can commence, a rumbling can be heard coming closer.

It's (predictably) the Iga and Ohu dogs. The Kogas have an Oh Shit moment before scrambling into battle position. They're a little wary of the fight given there's an absolute shittonne of dogs running towards them, but Kurojaki tells them not to be a buncha bedwetting babies and fight anyway. He passes his literal bedwetter baby son off to the boy's mother so he can join the brawl. John just shrugs and goes to attack the guy nearest to him.

As army meets army, the blood begins to flow. Despite how much larger the Ohu pack is, it's really anyone's game, for the cannibals' desperation to keep their cause alive pushes them forward. Still, the Ohu dogs are holding their own. Even Ben is managing to fight off his enemies. Unfortunately for Smith, the dane's poor vision throws a spanner in the works, and the Spaniel gets a couple of chomps on the ass. Don't worry about it, Ben, he's young. He'll heal.

As the battle grows more and more out of control, Kurojaki slinks past his men and into the woods in the hopes of baiting one particular target into following him. To his delight, that target falls into his trap; Gin notices him leaving and gives chase.

Gin's too caught up in the task at hand to notice Kurojaki's leading him on purpose, but lucky for him Kurojaki is too caught up in his own plan to notice he himself is being ambushed. Akame saw Gin following the cultist, and he's bolted out of the woods to save Gin's silver hide.

Akame smacks Kurojaki face first into the dirt and is about to give him an atomic noogie when Gin's all like WAIT. Gin lets the cat out of the bag and tells Akame he knows that Ben wants to scootch Gin up the platoon's pecking order. Gin wants to use this chance to wipe the forest floor with Kurojaki to prove that Ben's right to think that.

Akame is a touch offended that Gin's a filthy eavesdropper, but he understands his motivation. He just sorta shrugs and lets Gin face off with the warlord. Gin puts up his doggy dukes and gets the ball rolling with some fighting words.

Meanwhile, everyone else is fighting a Koga of their own and they're doing a good job of it. Even Hyena is making an honest, if hopeless, attempt at mauling one of the smaller guys. He's failing miserably when he's aided by Smith, who follows up his generously saving Hyena's life by mocking him for being a wussypants and asking him why he hasn't fucked off yet.

Hyena wants Smith and the others to appeal the No Hyenas Allowed rule of their club because he's decided to be a good guy now. Smith isn't sure if he believes him, but whatever, the traitor can serve as a canine shield if nothing else. The two continue snapping at their enemies.

As the fight rages on, John makes his presence known to the platoon by leaping beside a bloodied Ben. John manages to choke out a sincere word of praise for the other dogs' fighting abilities before more graciously humbling himself to Ben by proclaiming he's ready to fall in line with his commander's orders. Ben's newly-beshitted eyes are having a hard time recognizing John, but he'd know that stuck-up, twatty voice anywhere. He instantly welcomes the shepherd back into the fold.

Gin and Kurojaki are standing off in earnest now, but they're still not really getting anywhere. They're surprisingly well matched, Gin always managing to strike and Kurojaki always managing to either dodge or deflect. They've only faced off for a few minutes more when the rumble of a bazillion dog feet advances towards them.

The Ohu and Iga dogs have managed to subdue the Kogas and now they're bumbling towards the fighters. To make matters more dramatic, a storm has been brewing. As if called in as reinforcements a bolt of lightening strikes a nearby tree and catches it on fire. With a terrified, "Shit!" Kurojaki turns tail and runs, a frustrated Gin following behind.

But before Kurojaki can run very far, someone calls down to him from above. He breaks stride and looks up. It's Wilson, finally appearing onscreen again for the first time in a while. His long, white muzzle is rippled in a snarl, and he calls Kurojaki a gutless coward for abandoning his men. And it's not just his men he's abandoned. Has he really forgotten about...

...his own son? Wilson suddenly lifts a small, mottled bundle of fur into view. It's Kurojaki's infant child, and he's crying with fright. Though Kurojaki cannot see it, Maya's body is lying beside Wilson as well, her neck broken and twisted at an ugly angle.

Gin freezes and looks on in horror, as do the other soldiers who come to a stop beside him. Everyone wants to stop this but they're too stunned to speak. The sky rumbles as if angry, lightening flashing and illuminating Wilson's spiteful white face.

"T-tesshin!" Kurojaki cries in recognition. "My boy! What are you doing with my boy?!"

"Can a fucking demon like you truly feel love for a child?" Wilson wonders aloud. "You certainly didn't show any mercy towards mine. You've never understood the horror of what you did, but now you will. I'll make you see. I'll make you pay."

Wilson begins to shake Tesshin back and forth by his tiny grey scruff. A sickening chorus of wails and squeals comes from the baby. The other soldiers are appaled by Wilson's vengeance, as is a now very desperate Kurojaki. The Koga master begins climbing uphill after Wilson, his paws splayed far out in front of him as if trying to grasp for his son.

"Stop!" Kurojaki wails desperately. "Please, please stop!"

For the first (and last) time ever both the Ohu and Iga soldiers are in agreement with Kurojaki. They also call out for Wilson to put the child down. Gin feels helpless to stop this injustice. It's cut him to the quick more then any adult dog's endangerment has yet to. Ben tries to reason with Wilson to stop, but he's distracted by Cross. She's quaking with some overpowering emotion that's not exactly anger and not exactly fear.

Kurojaki nears the hilltop as Wilson's swinging quickens and he jostles Tesshin around like a ragdoll. The Koga leaps with an enraged roar at the Collie when suddenly the two of them are joined by Cross. Before any of them can acknowledge her, Kurojaki collides with Wilson without thinking to stop and sends both the collie and his son tumbling off the hill's edge.

Kuroj screams in horror as he sees both Wilson and the baby descend into the dark gorge below, and the army dogs join his yelling as Cross mounts the hill and descends down into the dark behind them.

The wind blows mournfully as Kurojaki stands mouth agape on the hill, staring into the black pit with his remaining eye. So busy was he with his child that he has only now noticed his wife's bloody corpse sprawled beside him. His eye fills with tears.

But the tears evaporate quickly as he's taken by an overpowering fury. He turns to the stunned soliders and swears at them, damns each and every one of them for bringing his wife and child into this. He will singlehandedly kill them all.

In a (half) blind rage, Kurojaki flings himself headlong into the gaping crowd. First he tears into the massive Moss. Then he slashes Akatora up the shoulder, gives John a concussion, brings Ben to his knees, bam, bam, bam.

So powerful is his rage that one would think he's about to make good on his promise of Ohu decimation, and for the first time the soldiers and their newfound allies start backing away from their foe. All except Gin, ofc, whose protagonist moral code is preventing him from faltering.

Kurojaki's all too willing to beat Gin's ass for causing just about every bad thing in his life lately, so he runs at Gin with reckless abandon. Both he and the Akita leap at each other. A shooting star's comet trail follows Gin's arch in the sky.

The symbolism of it is enough to trigger a convenient, empowering flashback in Gin's mind of his maybe-probably-mostly-confirmed-not-dead father defending baby Gin from Akakabuto. He remembers Riki's signature bear-hunting move, a hard bite to the top of the animal's muzzle. Thinking fast, Gin performs this move on the murderous merle mongrel flying towards him.

This catches Kurojaki by surprise just long enough for Gin to rabbit kick the shinobi bastard into the dirt, bloodying both it and his foe's face in the process. Gin lands back on Earth with an equally small amount of grace by spraining every ankle he's got upon landing. He plops down onto his stomach and quivers as his muscles relax, and Kurojaki has been knocked down hard enough that he's not yet making an effort to get up.

The other dogs run forward, panting congrats to Gin for being so awesome and stuff before they move to descend on their enemy.

John makes himself known to Gin a second later when he's like whoa hold up everyone lmao chill, this is Gin's battle and he should be allowed to finish the dude off himself. Gin's just now realized John's returned, but before he can say HUH WHAT John tells him to handle business before he's offered an explanation. Already feeling a bit overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation, Gin turns at a familiar female voice telling everyone to hold their horses.

It's Cross! She's holding a fussy but living Tesshin in her jaws. Beside her is a battered, humiliated looking Wilson. The Collie sways unsurely, totally unwilling to hold anyone's gaze.

While Wilson wallows in his post-attempted infanticide guilt, Cross sets the child down. Kurojaki is a total sack of shit, she says, but he's still this little guy's dad and only remaining parent. This decision can't be made lightly because it will always come back around to affect the kid.

Gin takes this as a chance to stall on his decision and runs over to Cross, overjoyed to see she's still alive. Cross, looking even more tired then you'd expect, gives him a coy wink. She's told him before she has a soft spot for kids, yeah? After all, she's always believed they have the potential to be better then their parents. As she says this she allows Tesshin to toddle up to his daddy and lick his bloody nose.

But it's still ultimately up to Gin whether or not Kurojaki lives or dies. The decision weighs heavily on the kid. Yeah, Kuro is a violent murderer, a cult leader, an advocate of genocide, and an all around assclown, but watching Tesshin lick his deadly dad's face with unconditional affection awakens something in Gin.

He can't shake the memories of his own puppyhood. He was taken too early from his mother and only ever got to be held by his father once before he was forever stripped of the chance to have a peaceful childhood. He's steadfast in his decision to be with these soldiers, but can he truly say he's comfortable subjecting another child to the loss of their innocence?

"Kurojaki," Gin starts. The cannibal king meets Gin's gaze with his single eye. "Get out of here. Take your people with you. Don't ever come back."

Kurojaki understands this is the only chance he's got to leave, so he picks his sorry ass up and leaps with a noticable decrease in elegance into the trees. All he leaves behind him is a puddle of nose blood... and his infant son. Tesshin simply sits beside his papa's nose goo and yips pitifully, too small to understand he's been ditched but having enough cognition to know neither mommy or daddy are with him and he's frightened.

"Miserable piece of shit didn't want the kid as bad as we though," Kurotora grumbles.

The others in the crowd can't help but agree. Some of them believe it's time to kill Kurojaki after all, but Gin tells them to lay off. This whole debacle has been a real fuck of a shit and more unnecessary casualties are only going to make things worse. So long as Kurojaki actually fucks off once and for all, that's all that needs to happen.

A new discussion begins about what's to be done with the baby when the Kai Bros finally take notice of Hyena. Akame thoughtfully dashes off elsewhere as the tiger-striped trio start telling the grey-haired square to get the hell outta here. John breaks up the bloodthirsty posse by explaining that Hyena's lowkey alright actually. John's elaboration on his experience in these woods and his opinion about the Weimaraner doesn't mean much to the Kais given they've never met him before, but Gin helpfully explains that John's an old friend of his who's come to join their ranks.

He gives John a warm, appreciative smile. For a moment he looks very much like the boss smiling proudly at all his troops. John's brow is furrowed as per ush, but he can't help but smile softly back.

But John quickly wipes the smile off his face and gets back to business. Yeah, sorry about leaving the pack initially and all, but he had a bit of self discovery to do. Ya see, John went and battled with the boss. Surprised at his insolence, he's now got the attention of everybody there.

Anyway, John tried to beat the leader into submission, but he failed spectacularly and for the first time he can remember. The experience taught him something he's still too proud to state clearly, but the important thing is that it motivated him to come back. Oh, btw, the big guy himself has a message to share, generously saving the audience from further elaboration on events they've seen take place:

Akakabuto's stronghold is expanding further, and, though on a forgivingly smaller scale then the Ohu dogs, he is also attempting to grow an army of followers. The sonuvabitch may be a horrifying monster, but he ain't fuckin' stupid. He is aware that a massive hoard of dogs are coming to get him, so he's setting up counter measures to stay one step ahead of them. The troops have to hurry and expand their numbers fast, for the battle is rapidly approaching. It's only a matter of time before Akakabuto and his bears begin overtaking human settlements.

This is all well and good, like thanks for the update and all, but everyone becomes distracted by the unmistakable smell of shit burnin' down. Cross is the first to notice the orange-gold light and incredible heat illuminating the woods beyond. The dogs rush over to see what exactly is happening.

It's the Iga manor. The ancient house is quickly going up in flames, much to everyone's surprise. Even more Nani? inducing is the culprit of the mansion toasting himself, Akame.

The Kishu is standing unwavering in front of the burning building. He's grasping a burning tree branch in his mouth, no doubt having gotten it from the tree that had previously been smoldering. The night sky is alight with storm and flame alike as Akame's children run up to him and ask him what the fuck he's done.

Turns out Akame's just tired of the bullshit. He's tired of constantly having to hold off the violent cannibals they have as neighbors. He's tired of living separate from those who could serve as close allies and true friends. He's tired of leading his sons and daughters into battles they cannot win.

Fuck the house, Akame's turning a new leaf. From now on he'll be dedicating his power to the Ohu army's cause and he encourages the remaining Igas to come with. At least then their ability to whoop ass will be useful beyond gang wars.

"Akame!" a ragged voice hollers from somewhere in the woods. "You little coward!"

Everyone looks. It's Kurojaki, his mottled fur caked in dry blood, his single eye bulging. He runs over to the Igas but he doesn't make as if to attack them. Instead, he just keeps yelling, his thoughts spilling like vomit from his mouth.

Akame just HAS to be this extra, doesn't he? First Kurojaki loses his wife. Then his own child is used to humiliate him. And now Akame is burning down the one solace he had left, swiftly destroying his life's mission of overtaking the manor. With one last gibbered out swear Kurojaki leaps into the burning house.

The smell of roasted kindling is quickly laced with, then overpowered by, the stench of burning hair and melting flesh. Kurojaki screams bloody murder as the flames engulf him. Gin gazes into the abyss of Kurojaki's one eye before it pops, bubbles, and oozes down his cheek, its gooey remains soon joined by his eyebrows and the last fringes of his white mohawk. Despite his agony the mongrel makes no effort to escape the flames, instead collapsing without struggle on the immolated wooden floor.

If this whole sight wasn't fucked enough, a whole chorus of desperate cries also approach the house. It's several of the remaining Kogas all hollering out to their leader. Loyalty may be a virtue, but the outpouring of devotion from the cult leads each and every one of the mohawked dogs to leap into the flames alongside their master.

Upon realizing the hoard won't stop making like they're campfire marshmallows, Gin tries to stop them. He's just shoved out of the way. The only Koga who neither leaps into the flames or runs away is baby Tesshin. Instead the child begins nestling into, oddly enough, Wilson's ankle as he watches his family burn to death.

Akame squints into the flames as the Kogas' agonized screams fade away. The cloudy night sky finally starts drip dropping rain down on the scene and working quickly to extinguish the house. Once the flames have subsided everyone gathers to stare into the wreckage.

Gin takes the first step into the charred remains of the manor. The blackened, crumbling corpses of so many canines litter the floor. Gin hasn't felt like crying this much since his first beating from Gohei, but something physically holds him back. He lip trembles as he looks from the bodies to Akame.

Despite everything the shithead put him through, Akame, with poise unmatched by anyone on Earth, respectfully wishes that Kurojaki and his people could have dedicated themselves to a cause that wasn't so heinous. He also wishes that they may now rest in peace. Many years of anguish and war have lead up to this point, but if nothing else it served to prove that Kurojaki had a lotta resolve.

Now that nobody's gonna come in the middle of the night and kill them dead the group allows themselves to settle in and get some shut eye. Everyone is curling up beside each other when Wilson awkwardly walks up to the hoard. Tiny little Tesshin follows behind him.

Wilson seems especially interested in speaking with Gin, who is nestled in between Ben and Cross. While the Collie coyly bows respectfully to Gin, Tesshin recognizes Cross and runs to her so he can tug on her ears.

Wilson apologizes for the whole almost-committing-infantacide thing. He's deeply ashamed of how low he stooped to strike back against his Kurojaki. Now that he's gotten to see him die in literally the most painful way possible, Wilson hasn't got any ill will towards any Kogas anymore, least of all the only truly innocent one. He accepts that what he did was super shitty even if he'd been blinded by immense grief. He wants to do right and contribute to something that matters, so he'd like to know if everyone - Ben, Cross, Gin - would allow him to stay with the pack.

Nobody responds for a moment, though Gin makes as if he wants to say something. Instead the first to speak is Cross. She tells Wilson that despite the immorality of his behavior she understands his pain. She takes a deep breath and places her paw over Ben's, which seems to have signaled him to lean soothingly against her. Cross begins explaining to Wilson - and Gin, just cause he's there - what her life was like before she joined the Ohu army.

Cross was, as most of the folks here were, a hunting dog. She met Akakabuto once or twice out in the wild, but it took her a while to stand off against him in earnest. Before then she had been bred to another Saluki (Ben politely doesn't say anything to this) and had a litter of puppies. She was blessed with the chance to raise and live with her children into their early adult years, but this is Ginga so her backstory wouldn't have been brought up if it'd stayed idyllic forever.

Her master brought her and her 2 year old children along on a hunt one day when the group was met with the pants-shittingly horrifying sight that is Akakabuto. The bear struck one of Cross's sons across the face, snapping his neck and killing him instantly. Cross and her other children tried to defend themselves and their owner, but one by one her kids were brutally murdered.

The only reason Cross herself survived was because when Akakabuto struck her across the back - the thing that left the scars she bears to this day - she took a fall so hard that she couldn't get up and he believed her to be dead.

All throughout this battle Cross and her kids had been looking desperately to their master for help, but he never given it. While they'd tried to defend the man with their lives, he had been running away and leaving them for dead.

Akakabuto eventually grew bored of the dead dogs and left them behind. When she felt some degree of safe, Cross had crawled over to each of her children's corpses and wept into them.

For a while Cross had nothing much to live for. She didn't care about her owner anymore - in fact, she hated just about the whole of humanity at this point sans one human child who had once fed her while she was wandering aimlessly - and her children were all dead. The only thing that kept her going was her hatred for Akakabuto, her burning desire to see him pay for what he'd done to her.

But she had never been a stray before, and despite her strength it was hard to make ends meet. She barely ate enough to fill a cavity most days and she was quickly growing weak, emaciated, and depressed. She'd felt like giving up.

It was around this point when a red and white Akita Inu had found her. At first she had been afraid of him given he was a wild-looking, battlescarred character with an unreadable face, but he'd shown her a kindness she hadn't felt for a long time. He'd lead her back to his pack, an impressively large collective of other former hunting dogs, and told them that she was their guest. They were to treat her with kindness and feed her back to health before letting her go.

The soldiers were mostly nice to her, if a bit awkward regarding her emotional state. Most of them were dudes and the chicks in the bunch were more about biting and killing then offering any TLC. There was one dog who was especially kind to her, though. His name was Ben (Ben smiles and twitches his ears at the mention of his name), and he was an extremely noble, involved dog who lead the first platoon. She and him instantly clicked, and so they became fast friends.

Cross quickly regained her lost weight and, with Ben's help, regained her lost muscle mass... and then some! So grateful was she for both Ben's kindness and the boss's generosity that she insisted she stay with the pack. She humbly requested membership to the first platoon, promising that she could keep up with the others. She even offered to train under Ben's supervision if need be.

The leader had smiled at her and responded with a gentle nod and a twinkle in his eye. The rest, as they say, is history.

So engrossed in Cross's story was Gin that he'd barely noticed when Wilson laid down beside them. He also didn't really notice when Ben told Wilson that he was welcome so long as he used violence as a means of achieving peace, not as a means of releasing his anger. Nor did he notice when Tesshin wobbled over to Moss and his son and was happily invited to spend the night tucked between the pudgy Mastiff's enormous paws.

But he does notice when Cross winks at him and tucks herself tightly against her doghusband, and he takes this as a sign that storytime is over.

Gin settles in beside his friends to sleep, now better understanding the depth of their devotion. As he dozes he imagines Riki (or, at least, the dog who looks a shittonne like Riki) offering shelter to a boney Cross, training up gentle giant Ben, and lovingly smiling down from his perch at his ever-growing pack.

He imagines the Riki Dog smiling down at him, too, and reaching out a paw to him. Before he can imagine himself touching paws with the boss he fades into a deep, dreamless sleep.

At the buttcrack of dawn the troops head out. They're now joined by John, Wilson, the remaining Igas, and even Kurojaki's little son (who Moss has begun happily carrying around in between the folds on his back). The mission to find more soldiers continues on, and all the dogs begin the journey southward to scope out more canine meatheads for their cause.

Bust out the water wings, folks, because the troops are headed to the seaside. Gin's never seen the ocean before, so he's super weirded out by so much water in one place. John considerably refrains from mocking him for not  knowing what the sea is and explains that crossing the ocean is necessary to reach different countries. Given that John once lived in some mysterious land called Your Up, Gin takes his word for it.

The gang boards an abandoned ship half submerged in the ocean. Gin takes a chance to gaze over the edge and into the water below. His eyes sparkle with curiosity as the waves wash to and fro before the boat.

His gaze follow the waves as they go out and out and out further and further away, the expanse of water stretching out miles ahead. Also miles ahead is a mass of land that looks no larger then a grain of rice. Gin excitedly calls out that he's found a foreign country.

Wilson politely tells Gin that he's got a good eye, but that's not a foreign country. It's just Shikoku. Ole Willy used to travel there frequently during his circus days, and it's also where he met nomadic Mortal Enemy #2.

Before Wilson has a chance to elaborate, Ben interrupts. He closes his foggy eyes and takes in the sounds of the waves before saying that yeah, Shikoku's pretty lit. Lotsa bodybuilder types over there, dogs specifically bred and raised for battle. This fills Gin with the sort of glee that'd seem excessive in a hyperactive schoolgirl. Gin begs the dane to let him go on a field trip to Battle Dog Island.

Everything is a blurry mass of God-knows-what in Ben's eyes, but even he can tell Shikoku is a long ways away. He asks how exactly Gin plans on getting there, to which Gin responds with, "Swimming, of course." This is foolish, obviously, as doggy paddling that far through these waters would be impossible. Ben kindly but firmly tells Gin that he'll be just as much help in gathering troops here.

Ben turns with a degree of finality back into the captain's quarters, his face turning redder then normal as he bonks his muzzle into the doorframe. Despite his upset at being denied permission to abandon ship Gin follows after him in concern when Wilson calls him back.

He tells Gin that he's sorry the kid can't come, but Ben knows best. Gin disagrees - he HAS to go. It's his duty to take Ben's place on the trip, for the newly disabled dog won't make it very far in these conditions.

Several of the dogs seem confused about what this means before Gin passes around volume 3 of the manga and catches them up to speed on how Ben's poisoning has started sapping away his sight. As some of them "ohhhhhhhh" in realization, Smith chimes in with a haven't you people ever heard of not leaving the commander of a platoon behind.

John insists that Gin's a tough cookie, perfect to take Ben's place. So long as he has his immaculate bestie beside him, ofc. He'll be going with Gin, too. Not wanting to be left out, Smith also insists on going. So do the Kai Bros. So does Wilson.

Cross looks as if she wants to say something, but she restrains herself. Gin notices and asks her if she'd like to Come Along by Cosmo Sheldrake. She unconvincingly says she'd love to but she can't leave Ben alone in his condition. It's pretty obvious she's keeping something from everyone, but before they can pry she trots off to join Ben in his quarters.

Smith mutters about how he thinks Cross has been looking a little differently lately but he can't quite put his paw on how. Gin doesn't say anything. Instead he just watches her leave.

Nighttime comes right on schedule. The Ohu dogs are sprawled across the poopdeck, pooped from their travels. Most of them are asleep, but some are only pretending to snooze.

Gin is one of those fakers. He slowly and quietly gathers the other pretenders to join him towards the front of the ship. He has a moment of hesitation before leaping into the water when he sees how aggressive the waves are tonight, but he tries not to show any doubt. This has to be done.

Just before he's about to go, the ever-so-gentle scrapping of claws on wood directs his attention behind him. The gathered gang looks back and sees the Igas are also awake and eager to join them.

Akame feels it's his responsibility to lighten Ben's load in this regard. He'll be leaving the near-sighted dog in the care of Papa Moss. Besides, God only knows what the dogs in Shikoku are like, so why not bring a ninja along just in case? Finally satisfied with the group's size, everyone gathers their courage and jumps into the ocean.

Huge black and blue waves toss the dogs around as they struggle to stay afloat. Smith hesitates at the boat's edge upon realizing what sorta Jackass stunt they're pulling here, but he can't back out now. He gives a loud squeak as he cannonballs into the water.

John's rolling his eyes and mocking Smith's masculinity from the boat when he realizes that he can see a pair of eyes glimmer from nearby. Someone is awake and moving towards them! "Oh shit," John manages as he leaps gracefully in after the others.

Turns out that the nosy parker was just Cross. Upon seeing everyone abandon ship she comes trotting, then running, to the deck's edge. She can just make out the shining wet fur of the dogs in the ocean. She hopes aloud that they'll make it.

A confused, groggy voice from behind her catches her attention. She turns to see that Ben has woken up. Moss is trailing behind, a still snoozing Tesshin draped across his broad forehead. Ben asks Cross what she's doing awake. All is still. The silence speaks volumes, and Ben realizes that Gin has taken off in one of his hare-brained schemes again. Cross is about to defend the kid's decision when Ben sorta just shrugs and sighs.

Ben figures that when someone like Gin gets an idea in his head, he won't abandon it. He'll either learn his lesson the hard way or live to do them all a great service, and Gin's proven time and time again he's not likely to up and die on them. Besides, the dane admits, he kinda wanted to ask Gin to ride (swim?) shotgun anyway, but he couldn't justify asking the youngest troop to do it. Though Ben can't see the dogs swim away he still looks out towards the sea.

The dogs swim for a longass time, paddling in their namesakeway as the waves threaten to toss them into space. Shikoku both is and isn't as far away as they imagined, and this eats away at their patience while they grow more and more tired. Gin is capable of leading the charge given his childhood waterboardings but he's also losing steam.

The only thing keeping him moving is the sliver of moonlight above. When the partial moon is intercepted by the clouds, the shape it forms bears resemblance to Riki's silhouette atop his Throne Hill. Gin can't let the big man down.

After a while the dogs come across a reprieve from their struggle: a tiny island, little more then a small hunk of muddy, sandy land sticking up out the water. Shikoku isn't much further now, but the whole lot is swung out. There's just enough room on the puny isle to allow everyone refuge for the night.

The dogs all adorably snuggle up beside each other to keep warm against the cold ocean winds. As Gin rests his head across John's shoulders he takes one last peek at the moon. The Riki Clouds have vanished. He just sighs and closes his eyes.

Night turns to day and things are getting interesting in Shikoku. A nationwide dog fighting tournament is in full swing, making everyone reading this instantly a little less comfortable. In this particular fight, two Tosa dogs named Niouryu ("Nio dragon") and Musashi ("master warrior") are duking it out to a screaming crowd of weirdos who like watching dogs sumo wrestle.

Musashi's gotten the drop on Niouryu and is clearly winning via attempted strangulation. For the sake of saving Niouryu's life and so as I never have to write that name again, the fight is broken up and Musashi is declared winner.

This is very exciting news for the Musashi fans in the crowd because it means that the dude has won the Dog Wrastling championship for the 2nd year in a row. True, he's working his way up from middleweight to heavyweight, but this ain't no small potatoes. Musashi's unmatched prowess is celebrated as he is donned in traditional championship garb. The dog proudly holds his scarred head high as he gazes wistfully into the distance. His nose twitches as he detects something strange on the wind.

Musashi's trainer takes him back to his kennel alongside several other competitors. All of the dogs, Mushie Boy included, begin barking, seemingly alerted to something nearby. Musashi's trainer doesn't know what to make of this so he leaves the kennel to go snooping around in the hopes of finding the source of the dogs' intruige.

Unseen to all but the fighters' noses, the Ohu dogs reveal that they've made it to Shikoku by posing mysteriously atop the high stone wall surrounding the kennels. Gin gazes down at Musashi. They GOTTA get this guy to join the army.

The Ohu dogs climb down from the wall and disappear into the nearby woods until the sun begins to set and all the humans are gone. The kennel dogs have just settled in when the same smell from before recaptures their interest. Musashi growls but refrains from barking when he sees three synchronized silhouettes approach his cage.

"Who is it? Who's there?" Musashi says with all the confidence of a lion who's punched God to death.

The shadows whisper in low voices that that's not important right now. What is important is that Musashi agrees to come with.

Musashi doesn't feel like missing bedtime so he tells them to fuck off. One of the silhouettes, the one missing an ear, tells him that if he doesn't willingly join their canine convoy they're gonna force him to. Musashi demonstrates that this is an incredibly stupid thing to say to a fighting champion in a way that surprises the trio. He knows how to open his kennel and he's feeling cranky. He grabs the one eared dog as the stripey group tries to scatter.

Luckily for the Kai Kens the other kennel dogs are barking up a storm, all jerring and yelling FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT. This noise would serve only as an irritant if it didn't cause someone, a human, to call out in confusion. A light inside a nearby building turns on.

Moments later the circular beam of a flashlight can be seen from the other side of the yard. Musashi has an Oh Shit moment and releases the dog he's holding. He tells the three that he's impressed by their ballsiness, but if they wanna live to see another day they need to pound pavement.

The dogs seem less afraid of Musashi's threats then they do of the man with the light. As the man calls out to the dogs the three brindles scramble out of the yard, each making a beeline for the treeline. Once he's certain they've left, Musashi meekly sits down and waits for his master to come find him. The man joins him within a moment and scoffs, scolds Musashi for breaking out again, and finally leads the dog back to his kennel.

The Kai Bros (btw it was so obviously the Kai Bros who came aknocking on Musashi's door) start heading back into the forest, kicking pebbles in their path and muttering about how it sucks ass that they didn't successfully kidnap someone to fight a war with them. As Chutora and Kurotora begin detailing just how much ass the situation sucks, Akatora tells them to shut their yapholes and hide. Someone - a LOT of someones, it smells like - are following them. The brothers dive into the bushes.

An asstonne of quadrapedal silhouettes dot the hills nearby. The strangers smell unfamiliar and are poised as if they mean business so Akatora tells everyone to head back to Gin. His littermates start whining about how running away isn't very cash money of them but Akatora nips them on the backsides to move them along. By this point he wouldn't have needed to put tooth to butt. The pack has descended from their vantage point and is headed straight for them.

The trio takes off in a gallop as tens of angry looking dogs, all barking and yelling for the intruders to stop, give chase. Kurotora's got a terrible Napoleon complex going on so he gives up running and instead tries to fight some of the dogs away. This backfires phenominally badly because the pack swiftly overpowers him, then overpowers his bros when they come running to his defense. Manly, agonized screams ring out in the night.

Somewhere insultingly close by Gin and his coterie have noticed the commotion. John proposes that sending the most overzealous and tactless of them to convince a champion fighter to leave his home wasn't a great decision. Though Gin realizes he fucked up by doing this, he's too proud to show the embarassment he feels for his idea. Instead he just tells everyone they oughta go see what the screaming's for so as to make sure they're not down three soldiers.

The troops head deeper into the forest, each keeping their eyes peeled and ears open to see if they can find the disappeared brothers. The Igas try to contribute to the search by leaping through the trees and ahead of the pack. The thick smell of an unfamiliar group lingers in the air, but no one can be seen.

No, wait, there is someone there. A sliver of moon shine casts a dim spotlight over a muscular dog carrying something red and black and striped all over. It's Musashi! He's got a concerned look on his face and a busted up Akatora stretched across his back.

"I'm guessing the Kai brothers didn't convince you to come peacefully?" Smith asks, the urge to alleviate the situational tension clouding his manners.

Musashi shrugs and allows Akatora to slip from his shoulders and onto the ground. Gin quickly looks over the Kai Ken as John snaps at Musashi for doing this to their friend. Musashi's eyes grow wide and spiteful. He tells the dogs to lay off for chrissakes. Believe it or don't, he's here to help. Akatora agrees in a choked voice; Musashi rescued him when he was too injured to save his brothers.

Gin asks Musashi to explain what the shit's happening so the Fite Club veteran lays it all out. The triplets were attacked by a pack that lives in these here parts, a pack that's lead by a dastardly bastard whos exploits encourage gossip even among the most seasoned of fighting dogs. This aforementioned bastard goes by Bandit Bill, and he's a notoriously brutal brown doberman who lives in an abandoned Buddhist shrine. He's a territorial sort and was probably upset that a buncha insolent strays came piddlefarting around his domain.

Before Musashi goes on about Billy the Kid he gives a broken smile and says he'd gone to follow the obnoxious brothers upon realizing that they might have ties to the giant army of dogs that's been growing and moving across Japan. Gin gapes, somehowhaving been oblivious to how a nomadic collective of dedicated troops might catch the populace's attention.

Musashi states that he's glad the army seems real because it means he can be flattered at how they've come to recruit him. Bee tee dubbya, he's totally down to join them. He's been a fighting dog long enough for it to get dull. The old man is ready to live out the rest of his life as one big adventure.

A second later a white dog drops down from the trees. It's Akame here to say that he and the other fair furred folk have managed to locate Chutora and Kurotora. The good news is that they're still alive. The bad news is that they're in front of a weird, ancient looking monument swarming with buff-looking dogs. Musashi confirms that that's Bill's pad, though he doesn't understand why Bill would keep trespassers around instead of just killing them.

Gin immediately announces a rescue mission. Musashi tells everyone to hold their horses. He's gonna go home and bring back his posse to help sort this out. Bill isn't a bloodthirsty idiot - standing in front of him isn't a death sentence - but he needs to know these guys have backup. It'd also be easier for locals to get information outta him  as opposed to new guys from across the sea. Better to talk then fight, yeah?

Musashi departs while warning the troops that it'll be a hot minute before he busts open all the kennels at home, but he swears he'll be back by morning. Given there's not much they can do til Musashi gets back, the dogs set up camp for the night. The night seemingly passes without incident, and the crowing of a rooster can be heard as the sun rises.

Wait, did I say rooster? Oopsie! I meant Smith starts shrieking to the other soldiers that OH SHIT, GIN IS MISSING. John wakes with a start at his friend's name, and as soon as he's truly concious there's no doubt in his mind as to where Gin is.

Predictably Gin has run off to solve this problem by himself. Only this time he has a moment of self reflection. He realizes aloud that he very often ends up helping, yes, but he also has the habit of tying situations in big, complicated knots by making decisions on the fly... just like he's doing right now.

And yet he can't say he feels remorse for it. He doesn't have the time to. He needs to save his friends. He needs to prove himself to Ben. He needs to do this to protect the village, the people, his family, his Daisuke.

The ancient monument, Bill's Bandit Bed-n-Breakfast, is lookin' pretty eerie in the shady woods. The only thing that makes the dark, imposing forest more intimidating is the two dog heads sticking out of the dirt smack dab in the middle of the monument's front yard. It's Chutora and Kurotora, and both are exhausted from struggling to escape their halfassed graves. A deep, slimy voice cackles triumphantly as something lithe, black, and endlessly shitty exits the building.

It's General Sniper! The bastard merrily licks his lips as he watches the Kais struggle to free themselves from the Earth's unwelcome hug. Mr. S is just about to go on about how great he is or some shit when a dog from Bill's pack, one who had totalled the Kai Bros, runs into view and tells him there's an issue. They have a visitor, someone none of Bill's crew has ever seen before. Sniper runs to the arch out front.

Gin's parked his little silver ass just in front of the arch and is refusing to explain to any of Bill's soldiers why he's here until he has council with Billiam The Bad Guy himself.

"I am a representative of the leader of Ohu," he says in the deepest voice he can muster, "and I shall tell you no more. Please allow me to speak to your boss."

"Oh, no, I don't think that's going to happen," Sniper says snidely.

Gin is surprised to see the hoodlum here, but Sniper doesn't explain himself. Instead, his brow crinkles cruelly as he repeats what Gin said: so, he's here to rep for Ohu, huh? Got himself a promotion, ey? How charming.

Sniper turns to Bill's men and explains that this stupid kid's boss is a tyrant trying to take over Shikoku's prime real estate, ignoring Gin's protests and cries of What The Hell Dude. Bill's men approach Gin to tackle him, but Gin leaps past them before they can.

Gin continues to frog-hop his way onto the front lawn where he's shocked to find two of his compadres buried alive. Little Chu and Kuro, Too yell at him to get out, it's a trap! But Gin's too stubborn to listen. He ignores their pleading begins trying to dig them out instead.

While Gin is distracted, Sniper launches himself into the Akita and sends him flying. Gin quickly rights himself, his nose bleeding, and swears aloud while telling Sniper it's unsportsmanlike to strike from behind. The little German chickenshit better be ready to fight because his treason will not go unpunished.

Sniper yells a barrage of death threats at Gin as if all of Twitter is rushing through his veins when he hears one of Bill's men call for everyone to retreat. Sniper looks up and dumbly utters a confused "Huh?". The Ohu dogs have caught up to Gin, and they're here to stop this madness!

Sniper tells Bill's troops not to puss out of a fight. They've got enough dogs to rival these suckers. The troops comply and the fur starts to fly. For a moment it seems like the Ohu dogs will be able to swiftly end this battle. Unfortunately, they lose the upper hand just as swiftly.

Sniper has made his way over to Kurotora and he's got his fangs pressed up against the black brindle's jugular. He mumbles through a mouthful of dog neck that the Ohu folks must surrender to The Bill Brigade or else he'll start killing the helpless hostages. Gin blurts out for the Ohu dogs to stop fighting without a second thought. Sniper responds by telling his ex-army not to move or else the stripey guy gets it.

Bill's fighters take this as a chance to start beating the shit outta the now motionlss soldiers. Gin's eyes fill with tears of frustration and realization at the severity of the impossible situation before them. Before anyone can die, however, someone else comes in and smacks Sniper so hard he flies back a few feet.

It's another Doberman, a brown and tan one with sunken eyes. This other pinscher says in a deep, silken voice that Sniper can kindly fuck off with this sadism. Bandit Bill can handle his own intruders, thank you very much. Besides, he doesn't believe in killing for the fun of it. If Sniper wants to be his right-hand man he needs to respect the rules of Bill's domain.

Sniper half-snarls, half-whines to Bill about how all is fair in love and war. Gin tells his cliche ass to shut up because the Ohu lads aren't here to fight. They're here to ask for help.

Before any more nonsense can go down someone calls ahoy from the arch. It's Musashi! The big man has kept true to his word and has brought tens of his fighting buds with him, many more dogs then the Ohu guys knew lived in his kennel. Indeed a small army of Tosas trail behind Musashi-sama as he steps up to greet Bill.

Mushmush asks in the voice of a gossiping old biddy if Billy has heard of these guys. They're bear hunters with good intentions, ya know. Bill says that yeah, he's heard about the bear stuff, but their former general here has a different story to tell.

Gin insists Sniper is a big fat stupid ugly liar. They're not here to steal land or dominate Shikoku or whatever, they deadass just need soldiers for their cause. Musashi interjects by saying he's not one to get involved in work place drama. To him it seems the real issue is that Gin and Sniper need to settle a beef they've been fostering. Bill appreciates the sentiment (as well as any chance he gets to watch a good fight), so he agrees. Let these two handle this shit the old fashioned way: with tooth and nail.

Gin licks the tacky, drying blood from his nose and dives at Sniper so as to get this party started. Sniper catches him off guard and sends him flying into a tree's trunk. Gin starts scrambling to his feet but he's not quick enough to dodge Sniper snagging him by the scruff of the neck. John almost rushes forward to intervene when Akame restrains him and assures him that they can save Gin if it comes to it, but they'd better hang back in case they upset Bill.

Sniper wildly moves his jaw around and leaves big bloody slashes across Gin's neck, his teeth fumbling around the kid's collar. Realizing he can't tear Gin's throat out with the big leather slab in the way, Sniper has another idea. He tells everyone to watch what happens when you fuck with Mr. S as he gives Gin's neck a hard squeeze and an even harder twist. All the dogs gape in horror as they hear a bizarre, powerful snap. Sniper releases his grip on Gin's neck and the Akita tumbles to the dirt.

John swears loudly. He wastes no time in detailing how he's gonna shove Sniper's ass down his throat when a weak cough makes everyone aware that Gin is still moving. Even Sniper is surprised as the dogs watch Gin hobble to his feet.

Blood is oozing from Gin's clearly not-broken neck. Just before one can say "wait so like what happened", Gin's leather collar slips off his shoulders and hits the ground with a small thump. A white tear in the leather ring explains the strange breaking noise.

For just a second Gin is lost in the memory of when he was given the collar. It wasn't Gohei who'd bestowed it upon him. It had been Diasuke. The boy had said that it had once been worn by Gin's dad, which may or may not have just been a cover for a convenient purchase from Pet Smart. Regardless, Gin silently thanks Daisuke for giving him protection he didn't even know he had, and he thanks God himself for giving him the massive muscles he needs to tear Sniper a new one.

And tear he does, for he begins giving this asslancing all he's got. He runs rings around Sniper, leaps down upon him from the trees, and finishes off his display of hypermasculinity by swinging the Doberman from a hind leg until the pitiful would-be dictator cries out for him to stop.

Gin does indeed stop, but not without placing a humilation cherry on this assbeating sundae. He swings the pinscher into a branch of a tree. When he lets go all can see that Sniper's dangling from the branch by his spiked collar.

"Shit! Damnit!" Sniper howls, defeated. "Let me down! Someone let me down!" But nobody comes to his aid. Either they're too stunned or, like Smith, are laughing at the ridiculous sight. Bill takes Sniper's dangling very seriously, though, and he calls up to Sniper that he's ashamed to be the same breed as him. Then he turns to Musashi with a smile. He would be giving a slow, polite clap if he had hands.

Gin relishes the moment by boldly telling Sniper to never show his ugly mug again because he's the one dog alive, the one dog in the whole world, who Gin will never forgive. The youngin gives the stuck up commander one last chance to fuck off and live peacefully elsewhere. Sniper only responds with more swearing and even more desperate pleas for help.

Gin thanks Musashi for his backup. He's about to thank Bill too when the Doberman takes a step back. Oh no, he's not getting buddy-buddy with anyone yet.

Musashi looks like he's about to roll up his non-existant sleeves and convince Bill otherwise when the dobie explains: Bill would like to meet this Ohu Boss guy himself before deciding if he's gonna join anyone else's army. He's willing to go with, but no promises on whether or not he'll be killing any bears.

Gin figures this is as good as it's gonna get, so he nods and welcomes Bill into the fold. John playfully elbows Gin in the side. This is all well and good, but it's about time to get back to Ben, yeah?

Before everyone can start planning the cruise back, Musashi stops them and gives them a tip. There's an even stronger dog who lives out here, some dude who's rumored to be the strongest in the world. The Ohu troops look intrigued. Some of them excitedly ask Gin if he'd like to meet this superdog. Of course Gin's like HELL YEAH. The dogs all depart, leaving Sniper cursing and swaying from the tree.

And so all three of the packs (the Ohu soldiers, Musashi's crew, and Bill's cronies) join together and start their trek to meet the world's strongest dog. Next stop: the city of Uwajima. Gin allows Musashi to show them the way, but he can tell by how his men fall in behind him that they're really taking his lead.

Gin can't help but feel a warm sense of pride well up inside him. He hopes he can be as good a commander as Ben. He hopes he can do right by the Ohu leader.

After another day long road trip the dogs emerge panting from the forest onto a cliff overhanging a seaside city. Seemingly having remembered all the times Ben refused to speak up about his own prospective recruits, everyone quickly asks Musashi to describe the dog they're after. Musashi's less reserved then Benny is so he settles on his haunches and launches into a story for the ages.

Benizakura ("crimson cherry blossom") is his name, and dog fighting is his game. The dude is an astoundingly tall and muscular Tosa Inu mix as well as an honored veteran in the fighting world. Legend has it he was born 10 years ago in Japan's snowiest mountain region. He was born to two village mutts of unknown ancestory and for a while he was a simple housepet. That was before he turned 2, at which point his master realized there was money to be made off of him after having seen him tear a cheeky village dog he hated he limb from limb.

By the age of 3 Benizakura had effectively dominated the dog fighting championships. He'd body slamming his way through medium, then large, then heavyweight dogs one by one. He traveled all over Japan and had made his mark on history by never losing a single fight. It came as a surprise to nobody when he finally entered the running for the nation's top canine yokozuna (highest rank in sumo wrestling.)

When he'd clawed his way to the big leagues, his greatest opponent was Japan's then-current champion yokozuna. This dog was an equally imposing purebred Tosa named Tsuna Arashi ("rope storm"). Tsuna was no spring chicken - by this point he'd been about 8 or 9 years old - but he'd spent the last 6 years of his life claiming and reclaiming his championship title. Though it was apparent upon their first meeting that Tsuna respected Benizakura's perserverance, the champ had no intention of letting the younger dog take his glory.

Musashi says that this fight was one for the books which I guess makes it highly unfortunate that dogs can't read. Hell, even the wet-behind-the-biceps kids Musashi used to train would recount it with awe.

See, the two dogs' gameness had been admirably strong. They'd never once relented in their assault of each other. Not when their muscles began to quake, not when they drooling bloody spittle, not when Benizakura's ears had been torn to ribbons. Kick, bite, snarl, tear, claw, throw, strike.

Their faces wet with blood and their muscles failing, neither dog refused to give in. And because of that the match's thirty minute time limit came to an end. No decided victor could be decided between them.

Tsuna Arashi was carted away by his master and Benizakura was left in an exhausted rage. He hadn't won. He hadn't even lost. He'd gotten nothing. Nothing at all but a face full of scars and two ragged stumps where his ears used to be.

Time passed without much incident for Benizakura as he continued his training at home. He still had the respect of his peers, and the dude was as strong as ever. His ears couldn't be saved, but they could be cropped, and so his master gave him a battle crop so low his stumpy little ear nubs were almost flush with his skull.

After a few more months of training Benizakura's owner suggested a rematch against Tsuna, but the dog's owner declined. Tsuna was an old fart by now. His eyes were riddled with cataracts, he had developed diabetes, and he was ready to retire. And so Benizakura was blue balled cruelly by fate, never managing to win himself that championship from his greatest foe.

Musashi pauses for a moment before Gin asks what happened after that. Musashi continues his tale of whoopass woe by detailing that, being a dog and not having the context to these conversations, Benizakura never stopped itching for a chance to beat Tsuna Arashi for real. He'd continued his training, continued his hoping.

Three years later just before his 6th birthday, Benizakura finally felt ready to try again. When he came to realize Tsuna would never return on his own accord, Benizakura had busted out of his kennel and gone to find Tsuna himself.

Benizakura crossed water and shore and forest to find Tsuna Arashi, and eventually he did. What he found horrified him. The blind, elderly dog was locked in a pen and being chewed up and spat out piece by piece by the next generation of fighting dogs.

Tsuna Arashi had become a miserable bait animal biding his time til one of his master's newest pupils got too overzealous and handled him just a little too roughly. The sight stopped Benizakura's blood cold. It was then that he'd realized that if he stayed in the fighting game this would be his future, too.

Enraged at the injustice of it all, Benizakura leapt into Tsuna's pen and killed the other dogs, their humans looking while the beast of an animal ripped their livelihoods apart. And this is what they would call him from now on: The Beast. A fitting name given his mauled appearance and massive stature.

But Benizakura either didn't notice the humans screaming or he didn't care. Covered in blood, he'd merely leapt out of the pen just as swiftly as he'd leapt into it, this time leaving a dazed and confused Tsuna Arashi behind.

Since then Benizakura hasn't returned to his OG master. Hell, the only evidence that he may still be alive at all is the fact that Uwajima locals catch a glimpse at him now and again. The Beast has become a sort of Japanese Bigfoot. Though the muscleman lives as a cryptid nowadays, Musashi swears by his belief that The World's Strongest Dog is still alive. The hard part will be finding him.

Meanwhile, back at the ship the Ohu dogs have claimed as a temporary home base, Cross has been left in charge because both Moss and Ben have had to take off due to pressing circumstances. Cross is pretty miffed at being left behind, but Ben had just assured her that her service is appreciated and he'd be back in a jiffy.

Problem is that several jiffies end up passing by as Cross waits and she's getting tired of leading troops on simple hunting missions. These dogs can take care of themselves without someone telling them how to hold down the fort. But what about Gin?

Gin's nearing 2 years now, but he's still so young and has so little experience. Dogs don't have cell phones or group chats so there's really no way to tell how he's doing. And so Cross nudges a subordinate named Luke, a speckled pointer mix, and tells him to take care of business while she gets the scoop on the wayward pooches.

Luke seems bashful in accepting, trying to murmur out something about how Cross might not be in the best way to brave the sea, but Cross won't be having it. She says her goodbyes and then dives into the waves. The tide has settled exponentially but the ocean still does a good job at knocking her around.

While Cross is boogie boarding, Wilson and Gin are poking around the peaceful streets of Uwajima. Most of what they see is quiet, amiable people going about their business, but there is one especially loud something happening nearby. Gin says it sounds like a lotta hooplah for boring city stuff, but Wilson disagrees.

Willy had once traveled here when his circus made its rounds in Shikoku and, if memory serves correctly, bull baiting is a common sport in the region. That's probably what they're hearing now. He assures Gin it's not worth getting involved - bulls don't fight bears - but Gin ignores him and goes to see anyway.

The two make like everyone in this damn story does and stand atop a hill overlooking the bullfight. It's a big runny-aroundy event taking place inside a wooden pen surrounded by hooting, hollering humans. Several of them are cheering for someone called "Don", and in the pen with a very pissed-off bovine stands an absolute unit of a dog.

Gin's eyes widen as he examines the pooch: massive Ginga pecs, Tosa Inu mix, ears cropped almost flat against his head. It's him. It must be him. Benizakura. Wilson tries to explain that Musashi said Benizakura is more like a sasquatch then a regular sports enthusiast, but Gin just excitedly grasps at Wilson's fluffy white chest and tells him to look, look! As the two watch, the dog, presumably the aforementioned Don, uses all his chunk to snag the immature bull by the neck and flip it over using its center of gravity against it. The crowd goes fucking nuts, and too Gin is beside himself with delight. Wilson concedes that maybe, just maybe, this dog IS the strongest in the world.

Someone in the pin comes and separates Don from the bull. As he does so a young boy comes running up to grab Don by the neck and shower him with praise. The old dog seems pretty pleased with himself, holding his head high as the onlookers cheer.

Wilson's not entirely convinced this dude is Benizakura, but he does believe that the army could use this veritable canine tank in their ranks. He asks Gin how he proposes they get the Hulk Hogan of animals to come with. Gin deadass just takes off in a run.

Wilson calls out to Gin to slow his roll, but this roll ain't stoppin' anytime soon. Gin leaps over several gawking onlookers, each one alarmed and confused. Then the Akita aims right for Don while yelling, "Forgive my rudeness, Benizakura!"

The old dog falters, confused. He poses as if ready to take a blow from Gin, but no blow comes. Instead Gin pulls the canine equivilent of a pantsing and yoinks Don's collar from around his neck.

Don's boychild seems insulted that Gin dare makey his dog nakey and demands he drop it, bad dog, spit it out. Don stands growling at the Akita and Gin stands growling back in return. Gin's worried for a split second that this dude might really just be some random guy, but his fears fade when the old dog snarls through a face full of scars, "Who are you? How do you know my real name?"

Gin smiles around the collar in his mouth as he's overcome with relief. But he doesn't get more then a moment to enjoy having found the living legend because the big guy is running towards him, scolding him for his unorthidox greeting and offering him a similar one in kind. A huge white paw lashes out at Gin's face, smacks him silly, and throws him off his feet.

Wilson watches in a panic on the hill. He wishes he had either backup or a unicycle so he could fix this mess. Benizakura Confirmed lashes a paw out at Gin's face once more, only this time Gin has the foresight to brace himself against it.

The crowd seems stunned that a dog only 2/3rds "Don's" size could stop his strike. Wilson is equally surprised. So is Benizakura.

Upon remembering that they paid to be here, several people in the crowd encourage the new Little Guy to give his all against "Don" while others encourage the sumo vet to snap the youngster over his knee. But Benizakura doesn't do anything escept look intently into Gin's eyes, staring like he means to find something.

Gin smiles his soft, goofy smile once more and tells Benizakura this is what the lawbooks call a case of Pinch, Poke, You Owe Me A Coke. He only struck Benizakura once. Benizakura has struck him twice. Big Man owes him a free hit, and he'll be coming back for it later.

Benizakura seems first confused, then insulted, then confused again by Gin's forwardness. And with nothing more then a wink and a duck, Gin leaves Benizakura behind, foot raised and jaw slack.

Gin leaps back out of the pen and joins Wilson. The crowd goes nuts once again, this time because they're all wondering what the shit they just saw. Wilson and Gin quickly depart.

The Collie scolds Gin for putting so many human eyes on them. Gin says he'll explain why he did what he did later, but for now they need to let everyone know that The Beast lives. Not only that, but he'll be expecting to see Gin again.

On a familiar shoreline, a white mass of hair is lawling miserably around the sand. The fuzzy mop turns out to be a dog, and the dog turns out to be Cross. She didn't stop and take a break like the other dogs but instead swam until she'd reached Shikoku. Her unusually wide sides heave as she coughs up sea water. She tries to settles down for a second, but her ears don't follow her lead. They perk up when she hears a commotion nearby.

Her legs are killing her, but she hobbles to her feet and sways tiredly as she follows the sound of someone - no, several someones - speaking. One of the voices is high and desperate while the other two are deeper and more threatening. As Cross slinks into a hunting crouch, she sees who's doing all the yapping.

A long dog of very small stature is being encircled by two much, much larger dogs. The short king is a Dachshund. It seems like he's trying to look tough while being harassed by the two taller bullies. The big dogs are peeved that weenie boy wandered into their territory, and now they're making like they're going to eat him.

Though she's tired enough to sleep for a week straight, Cross's unyeilding sense of justice refuses to let her rest. She leaps towards one of the dogs and cracks him upside the head. She stands over the living hotdog and snarls at the two, telling them to beat it, beat it. But neither of them wants to be defeated, so they ready themselves to fight.

That is, they ready themselves to fight until realizing that Cross is a bedraggled woman. They pause to laugh at the absurdity of what they believe is some homeless chick saving a manlet from assault before Cross sinks her teeth into one's neck and begins shaking.

These dogs are little more then overgrown puppies, maybe 2 years old at most, and though they're nasty little things they're not very good in a fight. "Hey, lady, stop! Let Beth go!" says the one Cross isn't ripping holes in. The dog in her grasp, presumably Beth, begins whining and crying, obviously not used to real fights.

"Okay, okay! We'll go, we'll go! Please stop!" Beth whimpers submissvely. Cross lets him go with a loud grunt and swears at the unruly teenagers as they make a break for it.

Cross pants as she watches them go, and suddenly she's back to feeling weak. The adrenaline has all but left her system and her righteous power has been turned to a mushy lightheaded feeling. She turns to the little dog to see he's smiling gratefully at her.

He thanks her for her help, though he assures her he definitely could've handled the delinquents himself. She smiles back at him. She asks him what he's doing out here and he responds in a way that surprises her.

The Dachshund explains that he's heard about a roaming pack of dogs playing military, running their own corps and organizing men to battle a man-eating bear. He hopes to join those dogs and prove himself just as capable as any warrior, but his training hasn't been going so well.

He sighs dreamily as he imagines aloud how wicked it'd be to be one of the cool kids. All the cool kids, they seem to get it. It being fame and glory, of course.

Cross's smile grows encouragingly as she tells the little dude to keep at it, for he's bound to contribute to a good cause someday if he keeps that attitude up. He thanks her, then tells her that it's time for him to get back to training. Maybe this time he'll stick to killing squirrels instead of chasing down bigger dogs.

She asks him for his name, and he grins a broken smile. Oliver is his name, and he's pleased to make her aquaintence. After Cross shares her own name Oliver enthusiastically lets her know that if there's ever anything he can do to repay her for her good deed, all she needs to do is give a howl.

As Oliver waddles off, Cross's smile quickly fades. She's not feeling too hot. She's been put under an unusually large amount of strain lately and hasn't allowed herself a moment of rest. Something in her stomach cramps up. She's been puking a lot lately and it looks like what little she has in her gut is coming back up. She tosses her cookies all over the forest floor as the lightheadedness comes back.

She tries to stumble away but her head is too foggy. Her legs give out under her and she rolls to her side upon realizing just how long she'd been at sea. She allows her eyes to close as she breathes in deeply. So distracted by her tiredness is she that she doesn't notice when a long, dark shadow falls over her.

Back in Ohu, the boss is facing off with not one but two oversized red-backed bears. The unusually beefy animals don't intimidate the boss, but their origin does cause some concern. These two are beary obviously assassins sent - and fathered - by Akakabuto himself, the types of visitors the Akita has gotten very used to in the past couple of months. Clearly Redhead isn't happy with an especially jacked dog keeping his troops from more human BBQs. Whatever dude, it'll take more then a couple of homicidal teddies to down this masterful bear killer.

Actually, check that: it takes a couple teddies doing something unexpected to down him. The two big-boned barbarians combine their powers to knock a goddamn tree over and roll it the boss's way. Captain Canine is able to dodge the attack, but he can't do so without leaping over a lump of debris that's blocking his path. Turns out that bear ninjas and dog ninjas have something in common, as the poor dog learns first hand that bears understand the concept of pit traps.

There's no skewers this time, but as the leader tumbles into pit the uprooted tree trunk comes rolling in after him. He gasps and tries to get out of its way, but it's too late. The trunk hits the bottom of the pit with a loud WHAM. The sound of splintering wood and a yelping dog meets the twin terrors' ears.

The assassins grin between themselves. Yes. Finally. The Ohu leader has been defeated. The army will soon crumble, and Akakabuto's reign will be unstoppable.

But enough of alla that, I know what you people really came here to see: John yelling at Gin for making a rash decision! Yes, ole Johnny Boy is annoyed that Gin plans on not only finding Benizakura alone, but wants to leave the rest of the troops hanging back while he does so. Like, Gin, dude, you have an army of walking powerhouses and you don't want their backup against The Strongest Dog In The World Trademark All Rights Reserved?? Especially after the bastard hit you in the face twice???

Various dogs begin barking their suggestions. Gin should beat the shit out of the old fart for disrespecting him (so says the Kai Bros), and Benizakura would be outnumbered and thus forced to comply if everyone ganged up on him (so says Bill.) Gin politely speaks up with a deliberate, "Be quiet," which gets everyone to settle down. Akame clears his throat and nods to Gin, clearly having something he's gotta say. Gin bows and gives the Kishu the floor.

Akame explains that given neither Ben or Cross are here, the next commander in line is Gin. He admits that Gin is young and his decisions are brash, but he can't recall any time Gin's pigheaded determination didn't end with the Ohu dogs getting what they wanted. Besides, it's probably for best that the kid doesn't wanna face this with violence. You don't convince people like Benizakura to join you through ass kicking alone, and if there's one thing Gin's proven he can do it's convince people to be cool.

Gin's face is flush with relief as he quietly thanks Akame for his support. Musashi also agrees with the white guy's elaboration. He tries explaining things from a fighting dog's perspective.

If they all go in to kick Benizakura's ass, he'll just fight them off til he can't fight anymore. They'd just be another challenger, nothing more. But no matter how good a dog is at fighting, he's still just a dog. There is always a side to him that's soft and doughy and vulnerable to what he feels is important. Suddenly becoming aware of himself, Moss peers up at the top of his head where a tiny Tesshin is curled in a ball.

Gin allows Musashi to finish what he's saying before going on to explain himself: it's childhood rules, guys. He hit Benizakura once, Benizakura hit him twice. Ergo, Gin gets one free punchy. Smith laughs and elbows Gin in the chest, guffawing about how the baby of the team would find a way to skew such simple, immature logistics to work on a hardass like Benizakura. This plan is crazy... so crazy........ that it just might work!!!

A while later Cross finds herself on the wooden floor of an old barn. She rubs her face to clear her eyes of grit. Once her vision is clear she sees that she's not alone in the room. A dark shadow of what seems to be a massive dog is sitting before her, its eyes shining as they catch the room's sparse light. The stranger asks her in a crumpled, kind voice if she's doing alright.

Cross's brain finally reactivates and she's all like OH SHIT. The dog before her is an aged Tosa mix, his jowls greying and his face smattered with scars. But that's not nearly the worst of it, she realizes, because it turns out she's been chained to the wall.

She scrambles to her feet and demands to know who this random senior citizen is and why she's stuck in her own private Hotel California. Oldie barely reacts. He just gently informs her that his owner is willing to care for her. She'll be safe here.

As Cross pries desperately at the metal stake chaining her up - no dice - the mutt explains that she's lucky to have been rescued. She'd been delirious, mumbling strange things in her sleep about bears and wars. She also mentioned something about Shikoku, which, spoiler alert, is where she is right now.

Cross finally stops fidgeting and lets this sink in. So she made it after all. She's so glad at the prospect of finding the others that she stops struggling and smiles to herself, then to the other dog.

She gingerly thanks him for saving her, like really she's super grateful and all, but would he mind letting her off this chain? She's on a mission. The dog does not offer to set her free, but he doesn't not offer it either. Instead, he just says that she needs more rest.

Besides that, he's become very curious about her circumstances. What in God's name is she doing out here? So gentle is the old dog's gaze that she heaves a sigh, sits on her haunches, and begins describing Akakabuto to him in livid detail. And then she continues to tell him about the boss, and Ben, and Gin, and the sea, and then something much more recent.

Everyone who didn't leave with Gin was just chilling out in the woods one day hunting some food and determining where they'd go next when a scout they'd sent off, a black lab named Kurobe, had returned with some pretty shitty news: all of the platoons sent up north had been killed, wiped out in one fell swoop. Speaking of being wiped out, Kurobe was also bleeding heavily from deep lacerations. She'd collapsed in a heap before Ben before her breathing had ceased. Kurobe had died soon after.

Livid over the gruesome sight, Moss told Ben that it was time to get serious about his fucky eyesight and get to either an optomitrist or a veterinarian in a nearby human village. Ben wanted to argue, but Moss pushed that there wasn't much time left before the final full moon. Something had to be done about the slain soldiers.

Besides, how was Ben to lead his platoon if he couldn't see? Cross had looked at Ben, part of her hoping he'd stay, part of her hoping he'd leave and return with his vision intact. Ben had decided to leave.

Moss and Cross had discussed what to do. They'd want a small base camp for Gin and the others to come back to, but someone would need to head north to sort out the whole mass murder thing. They decided that the dogs should be split between the two platoon commanders available, those being Great and the newly promoted Cross.

Cross had then elected to hang around the dock to regroup with Gin and welcome back Ben when he returned. Better yet, she'd take a day or two to lead Ben to a village herself. Moss had buckled at the suggestion, asking warily if she wouldn't prefer to stay with Ben at the doctor's.

Oblivious, Cross had said that'd be excessive. She could stand on her own four feet without her man, and the hubby would want someone watching over his troops. Then her face fell, her cheeks stinging with embarrassment. She'd noticed Moss looking at her distended belly.

"You should resign when you can," Moss had said sympathetically. "Take it easy til then, but resign when you can. For your family's sake."

And with that he had departed, had followed behind Great as the dane had directed half the dogs away. Cross had stood shaking from both frustration and anguish before Ben trotted up and reminded her that he had a hot date with an eye surgeon. She'd just gritted her teeth, licked his face, and led him through the woods.

The old dog had been listening very intently to Cross this whole time, and even now she could tell he was paying her mind despite his focus being outside the shed. The dog remarks that this has all accumulated in her coming to find some scruffy punk kid with tiger stripes, huh? Well, he doesn't believe in guarantees, but he can promise her that she'll be seeing that kid soon. Cross cocks an eyebrow high enough to count as a Dreamworks audition before realizing what he means.

Not 50 feet from the hut is Gin, his nose to the dirt. Cross notices him as he gets closer. She wants to call out to him, but the old dog cuts her off. He says that he understands why Gin's doing this - he'd done similar rash things when he was young - but he won't be going easy on him. If the kid wants a fight, then a fight is what he'll get.

Cross is concerned about a heavyweight champ punching the shit outta a teenager so she tells the dog to fuck off with that idea. But of course he doesn't. Instead he says that if the Akita wants to die for his cause, then he will.

As Cross struggles to free herself Gin pads lackidasically into view. He calls out to Benizakura and lets the old meathead know he's here for that second hit. Cross gives up trying to loosen her chain and tells Gin to make himself scarce before his head gets lumped in.

Gin's surprised to see her and asks what she's doing here, but she just continues to tell him to get away. By it's too late. The old dog, Benizakura, has climbed onto the roof of the shed, and now he's plummeting down towards Gin. He lands inches in front of Gin. Gin boldly tells Benizakura that he wants him to join the Ohu army. Benizakura's like dude, we've had plenty of exposition for the day. He already knows what Gin's here to do.

That said, The Beast isn't going to abandon his cushy life as a bullbaiter because someone asks him nicely. If Gin wants him as an ally, he'll have to convince him. Gin says he agrees to a fight, but on one condition: if Benizakura pummels him into an early grave, he has to promise to take Gin's place in the army.

Benizakura accepts this offer without hesitation. He shows the exact same amount of hesitation when he grabs Gin by the neck and throws him like a football. This surpises Gin so much that he can't do anything but take the L.

Cross tries to escape the shack by pawing at a wall covered in loose boards, but she can't quite seem to make them break. She looks out at the two brawlers in a panic. Benizakura continues his assault on Gin by headbutting, kicking, biting, and finally throwing him into the side of the hut.

Cross doubles back from the wall as Gin smashes through it, splintered wood flying in all directions. When the dust settles Cross can see that Gin might have met his match. He's bleeding from the face and ribcage, and his eyes are rolling around without focus.

Cross commands Gin as his superior to leave immediately. Dying like a showoff isn't going to help anybody. Gin stubbornly picks himself up, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, while Benizakura looks in through the new window he just installed.

"Get back out here!" the Tosa demands. "You think you're tough? You call yourself a man while you're in there cowering behind a pregnant woman?"

Gin never received a birds and the bees talk during his younger days so it never occured to him that Cross's rapidly growing ponch was the result of her and Ben's alone time instead of her taking seconds during meals. Cross pulls away from him as if ashamed. She says she didn't tell anyone because she was worried they'd think lesser of her for being with child. None of the other chicks in Ohu's ranks have let this happen.

Feeling awkward but sympathetic, Gin tells her that she managed to get here fulla babies so clearly she's not as weak as she's worried everyone would think she is. Before he can further reassure her, though, he remembers what he's here to do.

Gin climbs out of the wall his spine obliterated and tells Benizakura that he refuses to leave until The Beast joins him. As he nears Benizakura, Cross climbs out of the wallhole and chases after him before she's clotheslined by the chain. As Cross flops around in desperate rage, Benizakura takes a moment to look at Gin's bloodied forehead.

One of several massive scars he hadn't noticed before has split open on the kid's forehead. And yet Gin's still here, still standing before a muscleman who has broken dogs' legs like toothpicks. The kid snarls in determination as his forehead blood runs into his face.

Benizakura is distracted for only a moment before snapping out of his stupor and lunging at Gin again, but that pause was all Gin needed to plan his next attack. It should be familiar to Benizakura given he invented it. Making like he's Benizakura and Benny is a bull, Gin snags the Tosa by the flabby skin of his neck and uses his massive weight against him to fling him off his center of gravity.

The two leave the Earth behind for a nanosecond before Gin slams the dog, a monster 3 times his own size, face first into the Earth. Blood gushes from Benizakura's nose as he falls into a heap.

Cross has ceased using her words and is barking like a maniac, but nobody but the three of them is listening. Benizakura wriggles on the ground as Gin looks over his shoulder at Cross. His face says "hell yeah" but then his body goes "oh no" as Benizakura rights himself and slams as hard as he can into Gin's side. The Beast pins Gin to the ground with one massive paw on his neck and the other on his rib cage. Gin squirms violently and Benizakura stands over him panting and swaying. He seems to be... smiling?

Yes indeed, the bull of a dog is smiling ear to ear. And then he begins to laugh. His laugh grows into a bellyfull of guffaws and snorts, his eyes squeezed shut in hysterics. His laugh is as coarse as the rest of his voice, but there's no malice in it. He genuinely sounds like he's heard the funniest joke of his life.

Beizakura sits back on his haunches, still laughing, and allows Gin to get up. Gin doesn't understand if this is an insult or a mental break. Cross is so confused she quits yapping. Benizakura finally stops his chortling and wipes his eyes dry of tears.

The old dog proclaims that this was great. It's been a long time since he'd felt so alive. To think he'd almost forgotten what fighting other dogs was like! He thanks Gin for the fun and says that he'd intitially thought Gin was just some punkass kid who'd grown too big for his britches. But he understands that Gin's got real dedication.

And if he's the youngest in his army's ranks - woof! The other troops must be just as amazing. So sure, he'd be happy to live out his winter years fighting alongside the Ohu dogs. Why not?

Gin's jaw falls open in a dopey looking smile of its own. He's kinda amazed that this whole thing actually worked. While he catches his breath, Benizakura pads over to Cross.

"Benizakura, thank--" she begins, but he politely cuts her off.

"So formal, you people," he says. "Just call me Zak." And with that, he uses his powerful jaws to yank the chain from Cross's collar. The thin but sturdy metal loops snap in half.

The three are just about to head out when the door of the nearby house opens. Everyone stands surprised as the boy who was with Benizakura at the ring steps out with a large bowl of dog kibble. He seems confused and asks his dog Don what's going on. He watches as the Akita and Saluki run away, and then panickedly follows when the Tosa joins them.

"Don!" the child cries out. "Where are you going? Don't leave!"

Gin notices this mildly underwhelming goodbye become a melodramatic one as the boy trips and spills the food he was carrying. Benizakura pauses and looks back for one last time. His gaze meets the boy's, and the child begins to cry tears of confusion and hurt.

Gin's own eyes glaze over as the sight fills him with a sense of familiarity. The child's desperate face reminds him so much of Daisuke's. Is this how Diasuke felt when Gin left? Was it worse given Gin took off without saying goodbye? Gin doesn't know. All he knows is that it hurts to watch the dog give the boy a solemn smile before turning away forever.

Cross lopes up beside Gin and they wait as Zak catches up to them. The boy is still calling out and blubbers desperately. Gin's wet cheeks match Zak's. The old dog isn't so proud that he hides his pain, and he simply chokes out his desire to leave. The others nod and lead him away.

Gin lags a few feet behind as his thoughts jumble with memories of Daisuke. Gin had forgotten how much he missed his boy. He'd forgotten the last time he'd felt like a dog instead of a soldier.

The dogs slow their pace. This allows them some time to share their thoughts with each other. Zak is pretty broken up about leaving his boy. He's not so steadfast in his decision to fly the coop anymore.

Gin pauses thoughtfully before sharing his own experience with the Tosa. Gin had to leave his boy behind when he joined the army too, and it was one of the toughest decisions he'd ever had to make. Even though it hurt him in a way he's never been hurt before, he did it because...

Gin pauses as his eyes well up. The other dogs wait for him to finish his thought. Gin chokes on his words as he says them, but he still manages to spit them out.

"But I had to leave him because I knew it was the only way I could keep him safe. Because if we succeed, he'll never have to face that kind of danger again."

Everyone falls silent. Cross's eyes are wide as she takes in Gin's words, and Zak's face is stony before he nudges Gin's side encouragingly.

"Okay," is all the big guy manages to say. "I understand."

But the waterworks gradually subside and Gin's focus shifts back to the mission at hand. After running for a shorter time then you'd expect, the trio meet up with the Ohu dogs in the area.

Everyone is very impressed to see The Beast in The Flesh. He's impressed by them, too, and he quickly takes on the role of everyone's surrogate grandpa by telling them stories from the good ole days and calling them variations of "whippersnapper." The strongest dog in the world easily finds comraderie among his fellow punchy people. While he worms his way into everyone's hearts, Cross meets up with Musashi, Bill, and their comrades.

This vacay has come to an end, so everyone goes to cross the sea once more. Benizakura chauvinistically offers to help Cross carry her pregnant self across the waves, but she blows a raspberry at him and jumps in before she has to answer any questions about what he old dude said regarding pregnancy.

This will be the last bit of goofing before the journey back because oh my god there's a lot to do when they get to shore. Ben has to be retrieved, John is set to lead some of this gang to find more soldiers, Moss's crew up North needs to be checked on, and, most importantly, everything must be organized before the end of the month. That's when the war will truly begin, and everyone will have to contribute.

----------

AND SO THE SERIES CONTINUES. Just two more episodes after this one, get ready for ‘em. They should both be up before the end of the month. Also keep your eyes peeled for something else, visual stuff this time, that’ll be coming shortly too.

Episode 6: The Battle

[chelsfic]

Chapter 5/18 - Safety - Bucky Barnes x OC Soulmate AU

Masterlist

Summary: Soulmate AU! Bucky/OC. Our soulmarks appear at the moment of our soulmate’s birth. The Asset’s mark appears in the Spring of 1987. The words imprinted into the skin of his forearm. “Please! Don’t hurt me…”

A/N: I wrote this fic over the course of 2017-2018 and it was originally published on AO3. Recently, I decided to do some light revisions in order to fix inconsistencies in the POV, some awkward diction and typos. Please note–I’m aware that a lot of people love this fic just as it is. This is not a rewrite, I won’t be changing major plot points and I’m purposely leaving most of the writing alone. Just sprucing it up. Since I wrote this before I started posting fic to Tumblr, I decided to take the opportunity of posting the revised chapters here as I edit them. If you got to the end of this A/N: thank you!!!

Warnings: Kidnapping, Angst, Violence, Eventual happy ending

The next morning, SHIELD HQ, Washington D.C.

Director Fury sat behind a desk, fingers steepled, watching as Steve Rogers absorbed the information on the tablet in his hands. Natasha Romanoff sat beside the Captain, glancing at the screen over his shoulder, face impassive as always. 

Steve’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, “I don’t understand what I’m seeing here. This is…”

“James Buchanon Barnes,” Fury finished the sentence. “Alive and apparently untouched by time, if nothing else.”

“But how?” Steve looked even more like a golden retriever puppy than usual as he sat there in confusion and sorrow, his eyes shining with the sting of unspent tears.

Fury sucked in a short breath, “The short answer is...science. SHIELD has kept files on the assassin known as the Winter Soldier for about sixty years. Many good agents have died trying to gather intel on him. A lot of people in the intelligence community think he’s a ghost. Well, I can assure you, as can Ms. Sophie Reynolds, he is most definitely flesh and blood...and metal.”

Natasha spoke up, “The girl, where does she fit in?”

The images on the tablet showed grainy surveillance footage of James Barnes, the Winter Soldier, exiting an apartment building via a fire escape with a woman thrown over his shoulder. 

Fury looked uncomfortable for the first time, “She was a mistake. We never should have let her leave the Tower, even with a tail. They met two days ago....she’s his soulmate.” 

“WHAT?” Steve almost shouted. “He...Bucky’s soulmate? But he never had a mark…” 

Steve’s words drifted off as he realized the reality of the situation. Natasha spoke, picking up the thin file on Sophie Reynolds, “Well, no, he wouldn’t have. Says she was born in 1987.”

“That’s right,” Fury responded, “and she was our best bet at a capture until he made off with her in the middle of the night. Cap, you’re the closest thing we have to a connection to this guy, where would he take her?”

Steve Rogers shook his head. He didn’t have the answer. The Bucky he knew wouldn’t kidnap a young woman out of her home. Or murder intelligence agents. Or launch an assault against SHIELD in the middle of downtown Manhattan. He didn’t know this person at all.

Natasha glanced between Steve and Fury before speaking up, “I have some ideas.”

---

Sophie was awake and pretending to be asleep. She’d conked out almost as soon as they entered the hotel room last night and hadn’t had a chance to reflect on...everything. But one thing was becoming very clear to her: she could not trust this man. She could feel that he was close. ‘God,’ she thought, ‘this soulbond thing is weird. Also the whole not having a name to call my new soulmate...weird as well.’ 

She kept her eyes carefully closed and tried to regulate her breathing as thoughts crashed through her head. ‘So, the number one rule about this kind of situation was that you were NOT supposed to allow your kidnapper to take you to a second location. So, obviously failed on that.’ But she knew where she was. So the big thing now would be to absolutely under no circumstances allow him to take her wherever the hell he thought they were going. 

She felt a stab of guilt thinking these things. Her rational self was screaming at her to escape this crazy person. But her very soul was singing out that he was the missing piece she’d searched for and he would never harm her and they should just hurry up with the whole happily ever after thing. She felt the urge to cry again but she didn’t have it in her. Why would she be fated for someone who treated her this way?

“Get up, we’re leaving.”

‘How romantic, I feel like Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice. The beginning part where Darcy is still an asshole.’

Sophie stretched her limbs under the thin hotel blanket and cracked her eyes open. The man was sitting in the same chair he’d sat in when they arrived last night. 

“Did you sleep?” she asked incredulously.

He narrowed his eyes at her and grumbled, “We’re on a deadline, let’s go.” 

She took a deep breath before responding. She felt a little ridiculous having this standoff with him while laying in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin. “No. I can’t go with you!”

There was a long moment of cold silence. Sophie felt her stomach drop and for the first time since they’d met, she felt truly afraid of him. Up until this moment the warm blossom of their soul bond had been a continual comfort. But when she’d directly refused to go along with his orders she felt the bond constrict, almost as if it was shrinking in her chest. It hurt. 

The man, her soulmate, stood up and slowly stalked to her bedside using all his height to loom over her. His face looked like a thunderstorm.  

“Get. Up. Now.” He ripped the blanket away from her and pulled her out of bed by her arm, wrenching it painfully. She felt the skin pinch where his metal fingers met. 

“Ouch! Stop it, let go of me! Please!” He dropped his arm abruptly away from her as if he’d been scalded by the contact. She staggered several steps away from him, backing into a corner in fright. She felt the aching constriction in her chest ease a little and the twang of his emotions just barely reaching through. She watched him standing still in the middle of the room, chest heaving, staring down at his own hand as if it were a foreign object. 

He turned toward her without meeting her eyes, “I’m...get ready we’re leaving in five minutes.”

With that he turned and started to re-equip himself with the dozen or so weapons he’d apparently been categorizing, or cleaning, or whatever you do with weapons, while she’d slept. They were arrayed on the small kitchenette table. Knives, guns...grenades? Sophie was in way, way...way over her head. She cursed herself for ignoring the grave warnings her SHIELD interrogators had given her about this man. She’d been so blinded by the newly formed bond. 

A minute passed with Sophie staring, mesmerized, at the astonishing assortment of weaponry this man apparently found necessary to bring along on a trip to visit his soulmate. She spoke, her voice coming out thin and small, “I can’t go with you. I won’t.”

He straightened his back and sighed. “What did they tell you about me? When they interrogated you?”

She spoke to his back, “You’re...a spy or something.”

“Wrong,” he said, turning to face her, “I’m not a spy. I’m a weapon. I’ve been trained to do one thing very, very well. I hurt people. Most of the time I cross them off entirely. I...I don’t want to hurt you. But it won’t be difficult for me to subdue one small, weak girl who’s being stupidly defiant. Time’s up. Let’s go.”

Ouch. When Sophie was a little girl she imagined her soul mate as this knight in shining armor character. He would save her from some nondescript danger and carry her in his arms to safety. Never, ever had she imagined that her soulmate--the one person in the whole world who was meant to love her unconditionally--could be so...mean. She felt stricken . Her face contorted in pain but still...she had to resist. 

There was nowhere for her to run. He stood between her and the door. She was literally backed into a corner. But she was also feeling increasingly desperate. The adrenaline of last night was gone and now all that was left was the cold, plain observation that this man did not have her interests at heart. He was clearly following orders to bring her some place. And she would bet her last dollar it was some place...unpleasant. Sophie had never been in a fight in her life. Never even taken a kickboxing or self defense class. So...she fled. Or tried to.

It was almost comically pathetic how quickly the man responded to her attempt to dart out around him. He simply put out his arm to block her. He was so solid she would have fallen right over if he hadn’t caught her. As soon as his arms closed around her she began to struggle, screeching, scratching, hitting and bucking. The only good it did was to at least assure Sophie that she was doing her damnedest to fight him. It just wasn’t enough. By a lot.

When she’d exhausted herself she fell limp in his hold and--again--started to cry. He tightened his hold on her and growled, “Are you going to walk out of this hotel room with me or do I need to incapacitate you?”

Even if Sophie was in a calm state of mind she wouldn’t have known how to respond to such a question. Instead she let out a keening sort of wail and slumped over, trying to move as far away from him as his grip would allow. Slowly, he let her go and stood as she sagged onto the floor. She heard a metal clicking noise before she felt him take hold of her wrist and lock a handcuff around it. She barely reacted as she watched him attach her to the foot of the bed. She watched him stand up and walk to the door of the motel room. When he opened it she could see the sunlight flooding the parking lot outside. He paused for a second, “I’ll be right back.”

Oh, good.

@watsonwise​

[angryteapot]

Last Laugh

Characters: Reader, Steve Rogers

Word Count: 1485

Warnings: None, I think? Let me know if I need to add anything.

Summary:  You and Steve are workout buddies. But really, you're no match for Captain America, so you're just there for the laughs and his muscles.

A/N: Just something I wrote forever ago, back when I didn’t care about unrealistic workout regimens lol. I re-read it and nearly died from the awfulness of it. So yeah... read at your own peril, I guess. 

Want to be tagged in more garbage? Send me an ask! <3

You stand outside in the morning chill in your thin workout clothes, with your phone and headphones in hand. You shiver, but know you'll be sweating in no time once Cap comes down to join you. You play a game on your phone, enjoying standing still while you can. 

Steve walks through the compound entrance, calling out to you, "Hey Y/N, shouldn't you be doing warm up stretches?" You grin at him saying, "I'm hoping a cramp will incapacitate me so I won't have to run."

He smiles and shakes his head, and you both stretch a little before your run. The compound training area is huge, and you're seriously not looking forward to attempting to keep up with the super soldier. You aren't a fan of running unless it's a life or death situation, in which case you're nearly as fast as Steve and Bucky, to everyone's intense surprise. 

You start out at a light jog, music blaring through your headphones and motivating you to match your pace with the pounding rhythm. You speed up a little, Steve matching your pace. You're finally finishing your second lap around the perimeter when Steve signals to you that he's going to go full speed. 

You're surprised that he stuck with you for so long, considering that your running pace wasn't even enough for him to break a sweat. You, on the other hand, were already overheating and peeled off your thin sweater, leaving you in a tank top. You took a minute to get some water, deciding that one more lap should be sufficient before you collapse.

You're going at a good pace, enough to make your lungs burn and legs ache, but not so much that it's overwhelming. You're not even a third of the way through your lap when Steve breezes past you, shouting, "On your left!" with a shit-eating grin. Ugh, that asshole. Now you know how Sam feels whenever he trains with Steve. 

By the time you finish your lap (about 5 normal-people-sized laps), Steve has passed you up and shouted "On your left!" three more times, each time accompanied by a bigger grin at your glare. 

You collapse on the lawn, chugging water and trying desperately to catch your breath. Steve finishes another lap before jogging up to you with a smile, motioning for the water in your hand. You throw it at his head with a mock glare, chuckling at his affronted expression when he catches it.

You flop down on your back, pulling the headphones out of your ears and putting them in your pocket. Steve smirks down at you, taunting, "Given up already, Y/L/N? We're barely getting started." 

You glare up at him, staring at his stupid muscles and that stupid smirk. "You can workout to your heart's content, Captain. But I'm remaining right where I am. Maybe I'll practice my Dead Man's yoga pose." 

He laughs at your antics, dropping into position for push ups a few feet from you. You lazily turn to look at him, giving him a look that said 'you're crazy'. He only arched an eyebrow and laughed at you before starting his push ups.

You stared up at the sky, catching your breath, when an idea hit you. For Steve, working out hardly ever had him out of breath. Laughter, though, always had him gasping for air like a fish out of water. You formulated a plan and rolled over towards him until your head was right next to his whenever he did a push up. 

When he went down, he held himself effortlessly and looked confusedly at your upside down face next to his. 

"Hi," you said cheekily with a smile. 

"... Hey?" was his confused reply before he pushed up again for another push up. 

When he went back down again, you were humming some song and looking up at the clouds. Steve smiled fondly because of how close you were and how comforting it was just to have you near while he worked out. He continued his push ups, your splayed-out hair brushing his nose whenever he was in the down position. 

You suddenly spoke, so softly that his super soldier hearing was the only reason he heard it. Between your humming, you had whispered, "My ass on the grass," with a slight giggle. He huffed out a laugh, amused at your weird comment.

You continued your plan to hear his adorable laughter until he was paralyzed with it and gasping for air. Still looking at the clouds, you saw a vague rabbit-looking shape and sing-songed, "Bunny with the money, looking for the honeys." 

Steve let out a snort at this, and you were disappointed that it wasn't a full laugh. Time for Phase Two, then. Few knew that Steve "Captain America" Rogers was ticklish, and those that did know were threatened with death should they try anything. You, however, were always the exception from his wrath; only earning the Eyebrows of Disappointment ™ while he playfully threw you onto the nearest soft surface and tickled you until you begged for mercy.

The next time he was in the down position, you whisper, "Abs for the grabs," as you reach under him and lightly tickle his clenched stomach. 

He laughs in surprise, twitching hard as he holds himself up with one hand and swats you away with the other. 

Yes, success! Thinking it was a one time thing, he continues with his push ups while you formulate more rhymes. 

You rhyme his various body parts while poking and tickling said part until he's gasping for breath, his eyes and nose adorable scrunched with laughter. 

You poke his forehead next, saying," Frontal lobe gets the probe!" His face scrunches while he laughs, though still not giving up on his workout. Time to bring out the big guns then...

You suddenly shout, "Pecs that flex!" and place your hands on his pectorals, squeezing the firm muscles and laughing hysterically to yourself. 

Steve's eyes widen in shock as he bursts out laughing, almost falling from his position as he gasps for breath between each laugh. 

HELL YEAH, you are triumphant! When he finally catches his breath, there's a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and you know that you're in for some payback. 

You try to scramble away, but (still in push-up position) he pushes up hard, his hands leaving the ground as he come back down, landing in the down position again; this time with his hands on either side of your upside-down head. You lay there gaping like a fish, half impressed at his dexterity, a quarter aroused, and a quarter mock-fearful about whatever his payback is going to be.

*Image is only used to show the position, no implied appearance of Y/N*

But he doesn't move, only holds himself up as he gazes intensely at you. You swallow, gazing fondly into his ocean eyes. Said deep blue eyes roam your face before looking into your own bright eyes again. He notices your breathing, blush-tinged cheeks, and your slightly-parted lips. 

You swallow and try to joke, "Elbow to elbow!" while hooking your arms around his bent elbows. 

He smiles beautifully and, unable to stand his longing anymore, whispers, "Mouth to mouth." 

The words barely register in your brain before he lowers himself further, his soft lips meeting yours in an upside down kiss. When he pulls back, your eyes flutter open and you roll over, pushing yourself up and looking him in the eye. 

You give him a small smile (because he looks adorably anxious) and move back in to kiss him again. He sighs and sinks into the kiss, dazedly pulling back after a moment and resting his forehead against yours. 

You share a smile, and while he thinks you're moving in for another kiss, you stop with your lips barely brushing his. He glances at you, waiting for another kiss, when you suddenly whisper, "Tongue to cheek," licking a broad stripe up his cheek.

Before he can process what just happened, you laugh joyously and spring up before sprinting away towards the compound. He stares after you in shock before grinning devilishly, jumping up to sprint after you. He has a difficult time catching up to your unnatural speed, but he eventually does, and slings an arm around your waist, lifting you up and swinging you around in circles. 

Peals of laughter escape your lips as he spins you, with you clutching onto his arms for dear life. When he stops spinning, he holds your body tight to his, your feet not even brushing the ground. 

He grins at you adoringly before kissing you softly and putting you back down on your feet. You hug him and grab his hand as you walk into the compound together for your customary post-workout breakfast. 

Glancing up at his satisfied smile, you think you could get used to actually keeping up with him on a run if it ended with playful chasing and victory kisses.

[quinlinkin]

take it from me ( i’d be lost without you ) ↳ Q’s twdg writing challenge

character(s): mitch, clementine, minverva, violet, louis, aj, lilly, dorian ship(s): n/a word count: 2073 author’s note: more mitch lives au! i swear i only meant to make this short and sweet, but y'know... i can't control myself apparently lmao

[   ao3 link   ]

*credits to the wonderful @stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale​​​​​​​ for creating this challenge! you can view the entire prompt list + further details here. happy writing!!

                                                         ― ☼ ―

                                       day eleven ; escape.

He’d been easy enough to capture once Lilly’s knife had mercilessly slashed across his throat.

Falling to his knees, his hands clutched around his neck, Mitch had thought that was it. He could feel the blood seeping through his fingers, dripping to the ground and staining his sleeves a dark, angry red. Willy’s voice rang out across the courtyard in a desperate cry of his name, and Mitch wanted to yell right back, tell him to stay away, to not risk himself in trying to rescue him when it was already too late.

But, he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t do anything more than uselessly slump over onto his side, gasping for air as he continued to grow weaker beyond his control.

He’d blacked out shortly thereafter. Easy pickings. It becomes apparent that he’d been viewed as worth saving when he wakes up alongside Violet within a cold, musty cell. His neck had been hastily bandaged, his throat feeling as if a hot poker has been brutally shoved down it. Tears sprang to his eyes as he’d struggled to sit up.

Rage had taken over in an instant.

“Mother- fuckers-” he’d managed to choke out, his voice barely above a strained whisper, though with the attempt to speak came a brand new searing wave of pain that had nearly brought him to his knees a second time.

He was beaten down. Broken. Ashamed.

Lilly made sure to rub it in his face how foolish he’d been to try charging her when she’d come down to their cells in order to further intimidate them. She made it crystal clear to him how pathetic his attempt truly was, how she so easily could have killed him.

But, somehow, at least according to her; he had also showed‘potential’.

A good soldier, she’d told him, after he’d been properly trained and weaponized. She was trying to manipulate him, just as she did towards Violet.

He didn’t fall for it. Not like she did. Mitch couldn’t blame her for that, not with Minerva’s looming  presence as she peered through the iron bars, watching with cold eyes as Lilly continued to brainwash the person she had once loved.

Though, it’s not to say he didn’t suffer underneath his own inner turmoil.

The embarrassment he feels towards his disastrous failure in killing Lilly plagues him like a disease. It creates a feeling of immense weakness, so powerful that it all but incapacitates him.

Mitch doesn’t speak another word, and it’s not entirely due to the blazing pain in his throat. Wedging himself into the corner opposite Violet, he consumes himself in self-created silence.

At least, until Clementine makes her grand appearance.

Perhaps it shows far too little faith than what she deserves when Mitch is taken completely by surprise by her arrival. He’s unable to comprehend why a girl they’ve known for a total of two weeks would lay her life on the line to save them, and yet, here she is.

Captured with the rest. Mislead by Minerva in a deliberate act of betrayal that makes him hate her impossibly more. He hadn’t any time to warn her before she’d been knocked unconscious.

It’s all he can do in repayment to try and redeem himself. With a newfound sense of determination fueled by Clementine’s selfless devotion towards bringing them home, Mitch is right by her side as wakes, when she puts her plan into motion. He’s right there as she deals firsthand with Lilly’s attempts at manipulating her.

And with AJ freshly whisked away by Lilly as a last resort when all else fails, she feels like a ticking time bomb, even more dangerous than the genuine explosion waiting to happen underneath their feet.

If they somehow manage to make it out of this alive, he’ll be sure to tell Willy just how proud he is.

“Don’t,” Minerva breathes, facing Clementine where she clings her hands around the rusty iron bars. “Don’t you dare look at me like that.”

Mitch sneers at her from the sidelines. It had taken everything he had in him to not try killing her himself after learning of the truth about Sophie, regardless of the fact it surely would have only gotten himself killed in the process. Regardless, his newly induced fury remains very much alive and well.

Minerva seems to read that well enough without him having to speak. She meets his rage-filled eyes, and freezes on the spot.

“Mitch,” she all but gasps, fervently shaking her head. After everything that’s happened, and she still has the audacity to try explaining herself. “This- this is the only way we survive-”

In the next moment, Louis gratefully takes the words right out of Mitch’s mouth

“Are you serious, right now?! ” he cries out incredulously, stepping closer to the bars of his adjacent cell. “After everything that she’s done, you’re just gonna help her?! ”

And then, in a tone filled with so much sheer intensity, unlike anything Mitch has ever heard from him before, Louis yells point blank, “Fuck. You! ”

He couldn’t have said it better himself.

It buys them the necessary amount of time to continue their plan, Minerva turning to face Louis in order to confront him. As Clementine drops to her knees to retrieve the knife AJ had slid into their cell, Mitch readies himself to burst through the door the second she successfully unlocks it.

Except, neither of them could have expected the newest delay in their efforts. In a flash, Violet has crossed the room from where she’d previously been huddled in the far corner, and it takes a moment for Mitch to process what’s happened. It doesn’t allow him the proper amount of time to intervene.

Violet grabs Clementine, forcibly shoving her against the wall and halting her process on chipping away at the rusted metal. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Violet looks frenzied, panic clear even in her angered expression. “You’re going to get us all killed!”

Yet as she rears back, ready to clash with Clem who’s already braced herself, Mitch finally steps into motion. He lunges forward, grabbing Violet by the wrist and securing her before she has the chance to make a move. 

Predictably, she immediately begins to thrash.

“Get the fuck off me!” she growls, and while she gives her best effort in yanking away from Mitch’s grasp, he’s far bigger and stronger than she is.

The commotion all too easily attracts Minerva, who rushes towards their cell the second she registers what’s going on. “What the hell are you doing?! Stop! ”

He’s thankful that Clementine wastes no time in resuming her efforts to escape. Though just as she manages to break through the thin sheet of metal to allow her access to the outside lock, Violet becomes more desperate.

And, in her wild, desperate flailing, the back of her head makes contact with Mitch’s throat. Hard.

The pain that instantly ensues is blinding, his airway constricting until he’s sent into a violent coughing fit that’s well beyond his control. Gasping, he’s forced to unwillingly release his hold upon Violet, a hand moving to grasp at his bandaged neck.

It’s only for a fleeting second. Call it adrenaline, or perhaps it’s simply the pure instinct to survive. Whatever the case may be, even as he can feel fresh blood beginning to seep through the bandages and smearing against his palm, he throws all caution into the wind.

Violet is making another grab for Clementine. Minerva is raising her crossbow.

There’s no time. In one last attempt to free themselves, Mitch charges.

He hits the door with more than enough force than what’s necessary, sending it flying open and knocking Minerva to the ground with it. Her crossbow skids across the dingy carpet, though Mitch pays it no mind.

He can’t stop, not now. He puts all of his trust into Clementine to free the others as he turns around, and with blood trickling from his neck down the front of his chest, he squares off against Minerva.

She knows she doesn’t stand a chance against him if he gets the upper hand. But, she’s desperate. Reaching behind her, she brandishes a knife.

“I won’t let you get them all killed!”

Mitch raises his hand just in time as she strikes, catching her arm in his hand. While he may possess the advantage in strength that hinders her ability to force the knife any closer, he forgets about her certain, newly acquired assets.

An entire year of intense Delta training. A soldier in her own right. It’s nearly a fatal mistake.

With one powerful, well aimed kick, she takes out his knee, and he goes down. Somehow, Mitch’s grip around her arm remains unwavering, tightening enough that he manages to take her down with him. They land in a tangled heap on the ground, and although Mitch can feel his wound steadily oozing more blood, it hardly deters him.

He gets the upper hand. Flipping himself over until he’s hunched over Minerva’s scrambling form, he pins her knife-wielding hand above her head, and slams it against the floor.

With a sharp cry, her hand is forced open just enough for the knife to be sent clattering. Clementine appears seemingly out of nowhere, quickly snatching it up and out of her reach. Though it doesn’t stop Minerva from making a frantic attempt to reclaim her weapon, and as she twists underneath Mitch’s grasp, Clementine springs into action.

It’s the only way they can be ensured she’ll stay down. Raising her first, Clementine strikes. Once, twice, until Minerva has been knocked out cold.

Maybe they make a great team, after all. With Minerva subdued, Mitch raises to his feet, leaving her passed out and defeated on the floor.

He turns around, only to be met with yet another surprise.

Louis had managed to get a hold of Minerva’s discarded crossbow somewhere during the altercation, and kneels with it pointed at her with shaking hands. There’s profound fear in his eyes, and Mitch realizes he’d been mentally preparing himself to take a shot. He’d been ready to potentially save Mitch’s life, even if it meant harming the person they’d once called a friend.

Mitch doesn’t get the chance to show any amount of appreciation. Nor does he have time to warn him, for in the next second, Dorian suddenly approaches from behind Louis.

“What the hell is going on down here?!”

She grabs his shoulder, and in a panic, Louis spins around with a startled gasp of, “Oh, fuck!”

The crossbow goes off.

With a sickening, gurgling sound, Dorian instantly collapses. The bolt had gone straight through her mouth, and as her lifeless body slumps forward, Mitch can see where it protrudes through the back of her skull.

“N-no, no, no,” Louis utters weakly as he pitifully scoots away on the floor. His expression is entirely distraught, reflecting the horror for what he’s mistakenly done as it sets in. “W-wait… No, that’s not what I…”

As Clementine runs to unlock Aasim and Omar’s cell, Mitch simply can’t take his attention away from Louis. He approaches him carefully, just as he’s feebly tossing the crossbow aside from where he’s left in a crumpled mess on the ground.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

Mitch’s chest constricts at his repeated apologies, the broken tone of his voice downright breaking his heart. He feels partially responsible, a rising sense of guilt not for the death of a coldhearted woman, but the softhearted boy who’d accidentally caused it in a noble attempt to protect him.

Louis is far too good for this miserable fucking world. It makes Mitch sick at how unfair it is that he’s been forced into this situation.

Despite the condition of  throat, Mitch forces himself to speak. “Lou,” he rasps, a grating, unnatural sound.

Louis’ head snaps up, his eyes wild and horribly distressed. With a sorrowful look, Mitch tentatively offers him his hand.

“Let’s-” he winces for a moment, before powering through the pain. “Let’s get… the fuck off of this goddamn boat…”

Sniffling, Louis hesitates before slowly nodding his head. He takes his hand, and Mitch gently pulls him to stand.

“I- I didn’t-” Louis mumbles, his breath hitching.

He doesn’t need to clarify, doesn’t need to explain himself. It’s no secret to anyone that Louis would never intentionally harm anyone, whether they deserved it or not.

Mitch squeezes his hand. “I know.”

[rpgsandbox]

5e + OSR

Layout designed for utility

Streamlined gameplay

Highly compatible

Five Torches Deep (FTD) is a streamlined adventure game combining the best mechanics and principles of 5e, the OSR, and modern game design. The core of the game is familiar to anyone who has played 5e or previous editions of the game, but every mechanic has been pared down, modified, or expanded upon to create a coherently gritty, resource-focused, roguelike, old-school experience.

The game’s about tough choices, risk vs reward, and using as much out of character smarts as in-character mechanics. It’s just about everything we (Ben and Jess) have come to expect from an OSR adventure game: brutal, challenging, streamlined, and accessible.

Introduce 5e players to OSR

Modular design and layout

FTD is meant to ease the introduction of OSR mechanics and principles to those already familiar with 5e. The core is largely compatible with the current edition, but the more FTD mechanics and subsystems you add, the more “OSR” it feels. As such, you can plug and play to hack up your own amalgam of FTD and other systems.

5e skeleton, OSR meat

Succinct but complete

Modern layout for ease of reference

FTD is a blend of old and new, digital and tabletop. It loots the corpses of four decades of gaming in just 48 packed pages. It’s able to comprehensively recreate an authentic OSR experience while bringing plenty of new subsystems to the table. Heavier than Knave or Into the Odd, more concrete than the Black Hack, less epic than 5e, more familiar than the White Hack, and less “edgy” than LotFP. It hits the sweet spot between post-clone ultra-light rules and burdensome mechanics.

Familiar but fresh

Comprehensive adventure play

Favors cleverness over crunch

FTD strips 5e down to its skeleton and fleshes it out with mechanics focused on resource management, clever problem solving, and streamlined OSR gameplay. Combat is a last resort, magic is dangerous and wild, and every ability matters.

Character Creation: there’s only four classic races, each with a distinct method for generating ability scores and class restrictions.

Character Classes: warrior, thief, mage, or zealot. Classes follow the design structure of 5e (scaling proficiency bonus, class features at set levels, etc) with more specialized “archetypes” unlockable at level 3. These archetypes bring in classics like the Barbarian, Warlock, and Druid without completely reconfiguring the class itself. And with only four starting classes, it’s easy to roll up a random character at level 1.

                                    The Zealot class, all on one page

Level 9 Cap: PC play beyond level 9 is a different type of game. FTD focuses on dungeons and adventure, not domains, strongholds, and cataclysms. This makes a tighter gameplay loop: delve into dungeons, fight monsters, learn spells, acquire loot, repeat.

Ability Scores: the classic six abilities return, but special attention has been paid to ensure that ability scores and modifiers have a mechanical impact. Your STR score defines how much Load you can carry; your CON how many hours you can go without rest; your CHA the number of retainers you can command, and so forth.

Default DC: the assumption is that (almost) all tasks and checks are DC 11. This expedites gameplay and helps make it more predictable and transparent for the players.

Advantage / Disadvantage: easily the most elegant bit of tech from 5e (and the games that they took it from). Enough said.

Inventory and Resource Management: a system to track carried load and supplies. Should you bring heavy weapons and armor or leave enough room to abscond with more loot? Equipment can be used, damaged, foraged, crafted, and repaired. The system adheres to quick but logical gameplay (no dice, no bean counting, but very light abstraction).

                 The rules on "Supply" and replenishing consumed items

Retainers and Hench: in proper old-school style, PCs are expected to travel with a retinue of retainers and loyal followers, called “hench.” There’re rules for specific types of retainers and the commands you can give them in battle.

Wilderness Travel: distances traveled and resources consumed depending on terrain, light, and weather. The interplay between Travel Turns, supply, and resilience makes for difficult choices.

Travel Turns: a simple system in which the GM regularly rolls on a table every hour in a dungeon or day in the wilderness. Travel Turns create a cyclical ritual: mark spent torches, reduce supply, note hours traveled (make a Resilience check as necessary), and track if monsters spring an ambush or stumble into the party.

Volatile Spellcasting: all spells can be cast quickly - demanding a spellcasting check with potentially calamitous results - or over the course of hours, which necessitates no such check. Casters then must decide if they are willing to risk wandering monsters or a potentially high DC that could result in loss of limb or sight.

                                      Spellcasting is simple but harsh

Rest and Healing: rests have been broken into “safe” and “unsafe,” which have different mechanical effects on healing and exhaustion. There are few quick ways to restore HP, encouraging the need for consumables and cautious rest. High-level characters need days to rest sufficiently and heal back to full.  

Debilitating Injuries: any time a PC is reduced to 0 HP, they will die unless an ally resuscitates them. After being stabilized, the incapacitated adventurer must roll on an injury table; many of which have consequences that result in permanent Ability Score damage. Parties beyond level 1 usually comprise of mangled adventurers that bear the scars of their past mistakes.

Monster Generation: Quick monster generation: refer to monster category, HD, add any relevant techniques, and done! Techniques and tactics allow for enormous flexibility in only a few pages. FTD makes monster creation or conversion a cinch, and can be done on the fly.

Tools and Principles: guidelines on how to get into the mindset for OSR play, an adventure framework, and even generators for charged situations and dungeon layouts (including a novel technique leveraging a classic six-color puzzle cube).

Written, designed, and laid out by Ben and Jessica Dutter

Game design consulting by Ben Milton

Art by Sebastian Rodriguez and Per Folmer

Graphic design consultation by Jean Adaser

Graphic and logo design by Sam Mameli

Every page and spread has been meticulously edited and organized to make reference at the table as easy as possible. Information has been contained to a single column or page or spread, and every sentence is concise and without fluff. The double-wide layout makes it ideal for planting on the table and being able to quickly reference the right section.

Careful consideration was paid to the legibility of the fonts, tables, and flow of information on the page. There are as few "widows" and "orphans" as possible, no paragraphs flow across two pages, and everything is internally hyperlinked and referenced.

Since the format is US letter paper (11” x 8.5”) it prints easily enough at home; perfect for group handouts. While we're going with a glued binding, the book still lays pretty flat due to its extra wide format and softcover. The book is being printed on the heaviest paper and highest quality color available from DriveThru, making it both beautiful and sturdy.

Kickstarter campaign ends: Thu, June 6 2019 6:00 PM BST

Website: Sigil Stone Publishing

[woolishlygrim]

Winter Weebwatch #10

We’re very much hitting the final stretch of the winter anime season now, and to be honest, I still don’t know exactly what I’ll be doing for Spring Weebwatch (Spring Spreebspratch?). Kami no Tou, Digimon Adventure 2020, and Yu-Gi-Oh Sevens are shoo-ins, but a lot of the shows that start in Spring are the second seasons of shows from Autumn 2019, and I’d rather not do those.

Anyway, on with this week’s shows.

Pet.

★★★☆☆

Okay, so apparently Pet did air last week, I just didn’t see that it had, which is weird, I was looking out for it.

Also weird is that the character I originally thought was called Tsukasa and then thought was called Tsubasa is actually called Tsukasa. Did … did the subbers make a mistake at some point, or did I make the mistake? I genuinely do not know.

Anyway, last week and this week, Pet saw Hiroki discover Hayashi, still not entirely crushed but rather in a mostly-crushed state similar to the one he found Tsukasa in. Realising from exploring his memories that Tsukasa was the one who crushed Hayashi, Hiroki, feeling betrayed, confronts Tsukasa and eventually runs away. Meanwhile, Tsukasa, faced with the prospect of the Company separating him from Hiroki and then with Hiroki running away, grows more and more unhinged, eventually deciding to manipulate Satoru into going after him.

Things are definitely winding their way towards a conclusion, and I honestly can’t see what that conclusion will even be, or how the writers plan to tie this up in two episodes, but it’s fun to watch, at least.

That said, my god, Tsukasa going off the deep end is … something. The animators are having a whale of a time, drawing him wide-eyed, pale, and practically twitching. One scene has him drooling as he talks and occasionally having to wipe it away with his sleeve. If this was an actor, I’d say they were chewing the scenery, but it’s not, someone intentionally made him like this.

ID: Invaded.

★★★☆☆

This is another episode that just doesn’t quite deliver on the promise it set up. While I felt I was being a little harsh with last week’s score, this time I feel like I’m being a little lenient. It’s really a two and a half star episode.

With the set-up of the last episode going forward, Anaido just turns out to not … really have any kind of diabolical plan at all, whereas Hondomachi in the Well-Within-A-Well just kind of puts a couple of clues together and discovers who John Walker is.

John Walker is, incidentally, the character everyone expected him to be, since we’d seen that Walker has a white beard and moustache and only one other character had that.

As far as twists go, it’s … weak. It’s very weak, and the downplayed way the episode presents it suggests that the creative team were well aware of how weak the twist was. Similarly, the reveal that Kiki is inside the Mizuhanome is pretty much expected.

However, we still have two episodes to go, so there is plenty of time for the show to pull a rabbit out of its hat, so to speak.

Darwin’s Game.

★☆☆☆☆

I’m beginning to lose patience with this show, and if we weren’t in spitting distance of the end (this is episode nine, there are eleven episodes total apparently), I would drop it.

So continuing on from last week, the protagonist (nine episodes in and I still have no idea what his name is) engages in a fight to prove that his clan is worthy of allying themselves with the boxing gym-y clan, after which the top-ranked player in the game kidnaps him to … ugh.

Kidnaps him because she is the head of an ancient clan of psychic assassins and she wants him to be the father of her child, and fuck knows writing that sentence made me seriously reconsider watching the last two episodes.

The whole thing ends with said top-ranked player (who can psychically incapacitate people somehow) joining the protagonist’s clan, because I guess we don’t need stakes? Nah, nah, who needs narrative tension, right?

Congrats on another episode I actually remembered, Darwin’s Game. You might’ve done better if I hadn’t.

In/Spectre.

★★★★☆

Okay, I admit it, In/Spectre has wormed its way into my good graces. I enjoy this show now, I guess.

This is just a really good episode, and it manages to be a really good episode while working with material that I’m not sure most writers would be able to make interesting. As the plan to take down Steel Girder Nanase kicks off, Kotoko begins what is essentially a reddit forum argument in which she attempts to cast doubt on the existence of Steel Girder Nanase by proposing an alternate theory and arguing in its favour. As she does this, however, Rikka is attempting to argue back under several different accounts, trying to sway people into believing in Nanase’s existence.

Do you see what I mean? This is … this is banal. This is people arguing in the comments section while one person uses transparently disguised sockpuppets. This is something I can find by just going to a forum and scrolling down a few inches, and yet this episode is absolutely fascinating to watch.

When the episode ended with Kotoko saying that it’s time for her to present her second theory, I wasn’t even annoyed. I’m genuinely interested to see what the second theory is. I hate that I really like this show now.

Infinite Dendrogram.

★★★★☆

This is another one where I was honestly not sure what score to give it. It was a three-and-a-half star episode, really, and I wavered back and forth for a while over whether to bump it up to four stars or down to three stars, before eventually deciding to be nice. 

Honestly, it could have gone either way.

With Franklin/Penguin-san having kidnapped the princess and enshrouded the arena in a barrier, he begins his invasion of the city, remarking to the princess that he will break the spirit of the Masters of Altar before the war between Altar and Dryfe can resume. While Franklin’s own Superior class ability, which allows him to invent and spawn monsters, is a potent threat in his own right, he is also joined by numerous other Masters, from both Dryfe and Altar, along with Hugo and what appear to be the other three Dryfe Superiors.

So this is an actually really fun episode, even if it’s also kind of a nothing episode. With Shu and Figaro both trapped in the barrier, Ray and Rook learn that any player below level fifty can pass straight through the barrier, and use that to mount a counterattack. A small chunk of the episode is devoted to what amounts to a ‘Ray And Rook (And Later Hugo) Show Off Their Awesome Abilities’ scene, and honestly it was enough fun that I’m willing to forgive it for being mindless fluff. I do like the touch that while Rook can use his abilities to convert female monsters to his side, his Embryo Babyl can use her abilities to convert male players to her side, making them a nice team.

Meanwhile, Marie, who had bonded with the princess earlier, tracks down Franklin and shoots him a bunch, and exactly nobody is surprised because we all basically knew already that she was the monster-bug-shooting gunslinger who killed Ray before. Franklin is still alive, though, and as the show, as all shounen shows must, descends into shounen anime battle match-ups, Marie finds herself facing off against another Dryfe Superior with power over music.

Also, can I just express my irritation that Franklin combines both chess metaphors and poker metaphors. Those games are the antithesis of each other: Chess is a game all about planning multiple moves ahead, figuring out multiple paths and multiple outcomes to those paths and then choosing the best one; whereas Poker is a game all about taking a hand dealt to you by luck and tricking, scheming, and gambling your way to getting the best possible use out of it. Either one will work for a scheming villain, but they work for very different kinds of scheming villain.

[rosalind-of-arden]

Smoke and Iron Reread chapter 26-27

We finally have Jess in the same room as Wolfe and Santi again! Now we just need to get the poor boy in the same place as Morgan for once. Here comes more trauma!

If I’ve got the timeline right, Khalila’s group has been in Alexandria for at least a week by now, maybe more like two weeks. Jess is in contact with the Spanish ambassador, but hasn’t heard anything about them. Alvaro is playing his cards very close.

Jess asks “Where was the duty and honor in what had just happened?” So are these values taught to all High Garda? The training program doesn’t seem to be company-specific. They’re definitely values Santi holds, but there are other High Garda we’ve seen who aren’t sticking to them.

Wolfe’s condition as of this reunion with Jess: “His hair was a matted, graying mess, and he looked paler and more wild than Jess had ever seen him, but it was Scholar Wolfe. Bruised, and from the look in his eyes, half-mad, but alive.” He also looks weak. First of all, that hair has to be driving him nuts. And he has visible bruises (assuming on his face, since he’s clothed... or is he? Jess doesn’t say. Dammit, Jess), so he’s been treated roughly by the guards and/or Artifex/Archivist, at a bare minimum. A quick round of some form of torture that wouldn’t be too physically incapacitating isn’t out of the question. His mental state is bad enough that Jess can see his distress, which is saying something considering how determined he was to hide it when he left his cell.

The Archivist claims that nothing was done to Wolfe. Even putting aside the fact that just being in prison is fucking traumatic for Wolfe, even disregarding the inhumane prison conditions, Wolfe has bruises that he didn’t have before. Something happened.

The Archivist is also an overly familiar dick who calls Wolfe by his first name.

Wolfe’s voice is “rusty and hollow and haunted.” He begins with a sentence fragment. Not good signs, there. Also, note that he does not suggest that Jess left him out of the plan because he would refuse to participate himself. He asks if Jess left him out because he wouldn’t let Jess do something so risky. Such. A. Dad.

Poor Neska. Here’s the Archivist again throwing away talented and intelligent people in his paranoia.

Wolfe’s silence as resistance: He says nothing at all to the Archivist, and Jess finds that frightening.

Once they’re away from the Archivist, Wolfe’s first words to Jess are to tell him to give his newly traumatized brother space. Immediately after that, he asks about Santi. Jess can’t even let him finish that sentence.

Jess doesn’t know how Santi is? Time for Wolfe to break out the defensive snark.

Wolfe doesn’t bother to correct Jess’s assumptions about how he and Santi would have responded to the plan. He also doesn’t want Jess’s apology. He needs to focus on making escape plans. He’s not going to be able to stay sane otherwise. Jess is right that Wolfe isn’t “broken to his core”, but Wolfe is more fragile than he wants to let on.

Wolfe knows when something unexpected has happened. He doesn’t know it’s a rescue, but he does recognize the opportunity that this unplanned stop could represent. More focus on action.

Barricades and checkpoints have become so commonplace and routine in Alexandria that Santi’s troops can use them to spring this ambush without the Elites suspecting anything. Regular High Garda vs Elite rivalry probably also helps. The Archivist set himself up to lose his valuable prisoners this way.

“Damn your soul to the crocodiles.” Nice colorful language there.

Cleaning barracks toilets must be a common High Garda punishment.

Troll is a good actor.

Santi’s company steals chemical weapons technology from the Burners. Just how long ago was “a while ago”? This seems like the sort of thing Wolfe might have helped with. Give him a sample, have him work out how to duplicate it.

Naturally, the first thing Wolfe asks about is Santi. He says “Nic” with these soldiers, not “Santi.” A sign that these guys are friends, not just employees, to Santi? And Botha doesn’t even wait for him to finish the sentence, either. He reassures him right away. Everyone knows how important this is to Wolfe.

And poor Wolfe immediately goes from being worried about Santi to being worried about Santi seeing him in such bad shape. “But he’s seen me far worse.” So there’s how this compares to post-Rome Wolfe.

The Spanish embassy has space for military storage, large enough for at least five troop carriers. Is this normal? A sign the Spanish have been plotting?

Glain is wearing a High Garda uniform. Santi isn’t. Interesting.

“Wolfe, who was staring motionless at Santi.” Do I suspect Wolfe is having a little moment of questioning whether this is real? Why yes, I do.

“Santi, who was moving straight for Wolfe, slowly, as if he couldn’t believe his lover wouldn’t vanish.” I don’t think Jess is reading Santi right here. Santi isn’t the one at risk of losing his grip on reality. Santi is, however, very aware of how bad of condition Wolfe might be in, and he wouldn’t want to startle him with sudden movement. He’s moving slowly to make sure Wolfe feels safe.

Still love Thomas insisting that Jess watch the Wolfe/Santi reunion.

Wolfe is shaking, Santi is right there to hold him and support them.

“The sound that he made came deep from his soul, a raw sound of relief that seemed to echo through the air.” So everyone complains about how writing romance with characters who use the same pronoun can make things annoyingly ambiguous. Now let’s talk about how it can be ambiguous in a good way. Look at this. We don’t know whether it’s Wolfe or Santi crying out in relief here. The first clause in that sentence uses both characters’ names, so no grammatical clue there. Jess might not know. It could be either of them, it could be both, and it doesn’t fucking matter. They are so relieved to be together again that we have temporarily blurred them together through pronoun use.

Here’s Santi assessing Wolfe’s health while he apologizes for not being with him. And here’s Wolfe assuring Santi that whether he was physically present or not, he was still, in a way, there. And then we get a kiss. Such delicious emotional payoff after watching them struggling without each other for most of the book.

You’ve all already read my speculation, in fic form, on why Santi is running off to Jess’s room instead of staying with Wolfe. Wolfe must have sent him on some errand, or asked him to go away long enough to squeeze a quick shower in, or something. Only other way I can see Santi leaving Wolfe alone would be if they got into a fight, but I’m not sure either of them would be inclined to bicker this soon after being reunited. Wolfe’s pretty annoyed when he catches Santi picking on Jess, and he’s still very quick to soften up.

So here’s Santi, stuck with nothing to do, full of trauma-inspired rage. He’s probably remembering how Wolfe was after Rome and worrying about how much trauma Wolfe is trying to hide now. There is nobody standing between him and Jess, unlike Dario, who had Khalila to stop Santi from coming after him. Santi needs to do something, and the most productive thing he can come up with is taking revenge on the one he blames for Wolfe being hurt.

Calm Santi is scary Santi. Especially when he’s got a hand on your throat.

Santi still suspects Dario came up with the plan. Dario is damn lucky that Santi respects Khalila and has been busy enough with their plans not to come after him.

Jess very likely saves his own life by not fighting back. In Santi’s mind, when he attacks Jess, he’s seeing Jess as a threat. That’s not rational - it’s entirely a response to seeing Wolfe hurt - but it’s how he sees Jess. Thus the immediate and vicious attack. Jess failing to behave as a threat is what shakes Santi out of treating him as one. His core values won’t let him kill a helpless victim. When he starts to think rationally, he’s shocked by his own behavior, but then Jess starts to talk, and Santi starts seeing him as a threat again, but this time he has enough control to respond only verbally. It’s not until he starts thinking about how Wolfe would not appreciate his overprotectiveness that he really calms down.

What bothers Santi most? That Wolfe would have been alone. The idea of Wolfe going through more trauma alone and/or dying alone really upsets him.

If there was a Wolfe/Santi fight before this scene, I suspect it was about this idea of Santi’s that he should send Wolfe away to somewhere safe. Wolfe would obviously not have been at all impressed with that idea.

Here are Santi’s controlling tendencies rearing up in response to trauma. “I want to send him out of here, away from all this, and never let him come back.” “Let him”, really Santi? But he immediately admits that of course Wolfe would refuse to be controlled.

Also interesting: Santi wants to send Wolfe away. Not take him. Santi is at this point fully committed to reforming the Library. I suspect he’s realized that Wolfe can never really be safe while the current Curia remain in power.

I do appreciate the way that Santi, when he recognizes he’s fucked up, owns up to it and apologizes. That’s a good example for the kids.

Santi and Jess put their differences aside and agree on protecting Wolfe. Wolfe is not impressed. And Santi knows right away that he’s in trouble. Doesn’t get him out of the lecture.

How much did it help Wolfe just to be able to clean up right after getting out of prison? How much is he connecting this time to his memories of Santi helping him bathe last time?

This whole Wolfe lecture is delightful, both the prickly beginning and the softer conclusion. And Wolfe’s got this in him when he’s barely able to stand.

Wolfe vs. Santi. Round wtf is it now, 12? Obvious winner is Wolfe. Score’s up to 7-3, Wolfe is the lead.

How do we know Wolfe has really adopted Jess? Here he is letting Jess see him sink into Santi’s arms. He’s letting Jess see him being both weak and affectionate.

Look at the difference in Wolfe and Santi in how they react to “a broken bone heals twice as strong.” Wolfe used it as a mantra to comfort himself, and tries to comfort Santi with it here. Santi laughs when he hears it, but his laugh “sounded unsteady and half-desperate.” Remembering that first night comforts Wolfe, but it triggers Santi. That night was the beginning of recovery for Wolfe, but it was traumatic for Santi.

Memories, also. Santi: “I remember everything. That’s the curse of it.” Wolfe: “That’s the beauty of it.” Santi definitely finds those memories of Wolfe’s return traumatic. A lot of ways we can read Wolfe’s statement there. He may just be pointing out that it’s a good thing that Santi even has all of his memories; Wolfe might not have recovered all of his, even with the mesmer. He might be talking specifically about the night of their reunion after Rome, which he just referred to. It’s a beautiful, comforting memory for him. It’s not for Santi. Wolfe might also be recognizing that there is value even in traumatic memories. Obviously, he hasn’t reached the point of accepting all of his yet: he’s still actively repressing some as of his next chapter. But he’s decided that kind of acceptance is something to aspire to.

Glain gets the best lines. To Jess and Dario: “Stop squabbling about the size of your-” Sadly, Khalila interrupts.

Santi has already gathered his company and started recruiting other High Garda allies.

[distressedpanda]

Her Song (Loki x OFC) Part 5

Warnings: Language, Violence, Blood

A/N: I know this is late but my town experienced a power outage yesterday. I am posting this now and hoping you forgive me.

This chapter is written mostly from Loki's POV. I wanted to show his mind set and motivations for future chapters. I am portraying a very vulnerable Loki, which I understand is slightly out of character. Call it artistic license, but I needed him that way and quickly. 

As always let me know if you wish to be tagged.

Tags: @whosaidididthat​

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Gunfire sounded across the lumber yard. Bullets ripping through the air, dangerously close. Crouching behind a stack of logs, clutching a far to still women tightly to his chest, was Loki.

Earlier

Everything had started rather monotonously. They had disembarked at there designated location and were given three hours to get in, get out, and meet up at the rendezvous. Keeping to the shadows, they moved well as a team, Loki had begrudgingly noticed. He hated to admit any positives in them being together, even to himself. But as they worked their way down to the basement level of the factory, he knew where she was without looking at her. That arc connecting them, even when she was out of sight. She seemed to be the same, moving with silent, graceful steps, with a stealth he had to admire. She didn't cast glances at him either, simply moving as she needed to cover him and have him covering her.

They had reached the basement without complication. It had appeared that no one was there. They hadn't run into any guards so far, which only worked to heighten Loki's suspicions and senses. But the nuclear material was present, along with an unarmed war head.

Loki moved quickly to the computers, as Iloa removed two of her daggers, standing behind him and surveying the perimeter around them. He worked quickly, nimble fingers flying across the keyboard, entering the access codes Banner had given them.

The container disarmed and Loki reached for it but was stopped short. He glanced over at Iloa with a questioning brow, her wrist laying across his forearm, dagger still in hand.

She flicked her eyes around the room, before returning them to him, “It's too easy,” she whispered in warning. “This place was covered with guards when we did surveillance,” she added.

He glanced around the room as well, it did seem easy. “I agree, but the material is here. We have to take it,” he whispered back.

She locked eyes with him for another second, before exhaling loudly and nodding. Lifting her arm away from his, “Wait,” she grabbed a metal suit case with a strap, off one of the tables and a pair of medical gloves from another. “Can't be to careful.”

He took the proffered items, slipping the gloves on and retrieving the container carefully. He placed it gently inside the padded case, removing the gloves and tossing them aside. Closing the case, he grabbed the strap slipping it over his head and arm. “Shall we?” He asked, lifting an arm to allow her to go first.

It was his first mistake.

She reached the bottom of the stairs before him. They were tucked at the back of the room, behind a wall. She stopped lifting her hands in surrender and backed away from the bottom step slowly. Loki halted as well, he couldn't see the threat but he understood the danger. She glanced out of the side of her eye at him in warning. He knew she was going to use her voice. Summoning his seiðr, his eyes flashing lime green, he nodded at her.

She began to hum low in her throat, a tune Loki hadn't heard before. He heard rather than saw when the guard went down, landing with a loud clatter and thud on the stairs. He began to move toward her again, dropping his seiðr.

His second mistake.

Iloa turned to Loki and smiled. And he didn't bother stopping the smile that worked its way onto his own lips.

The smile turned to anguish, when the shot rang out. Hitting her leg, she crumbled to the floor. He sprinted to her side. She screamed at the shooter, as Loki reached her and drug her away from the alcove. He thanked the Gods that her song hadn't affected him.

He was panicking, as he surveyed the injury. His heart double timing in his chest. She waved him off, “It's just a graze,” she said through her teeth, “Help me up.”

He did as she instructed, helping her back on her feet carefully. “Are you sure you should be standing?”

She put pressure on her leg and winced but stood with ease. “It's fine, I can heal it.” She began the tune he had heard before, “I told you it was too easy. We need to find another way out of here.”

He nodded, “Agreed, there are another set of stairs on the other side.” He pointed across the room and they took off across the space.

He stayed in front of her then, not letting her take point. They darted up the stairs, reaching a door at the top. Panting they both listened intently, him with his seiðr. Lime green eyes flashing, he nodded at her. Carefully he swung the door open, casting his magic out in an attempt to detect anyone coming there way. But he hadn't honed this part of his magic.

They rounded a corner and ten men where standing there waiting. They hadn't been moving so Loki's ability hadn't picked them up. Iloa started her hum but the men started firing before they could get the full affect.

Loki threw up a shield with his seiðr, as Iloa started taking the men down with her daggers. She was the picture of elegance, as she flung the Kunai through the air disarming the group. Her hair spinning around her body like a cape, she was so beautiful he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

When the final gun was on the ground, the men charged. “Hand-to-hand?” Iloa laughed smiling up at Loki. “Bring it,” she shouted at the advancing group.

Loki dropped the shield, summoning his own daggers. They went trough the group, like two spinning whirlwinds. Slashing, punching, kicking, they worked back to back to incapacitate the guards.

They stood victorious, grinning at each other. She quickly sang the Kunai back to her belt. “Let's go,” Loki nodded at her. He was having far to much fun, fighting at this woman's side. He had started to forget his fears, reaching out to grab her hand as they ran down the halls to escape. She giggled as she ran beside him.

Third mistake.

At every corner and staircase on there way out was a new group of guards. They worked together, laughing and revolving through the men with an intense violent energy.

Loki ended up removing his helmet to use as a weapon, leaving it impaled in a mans arm as he screamed to be released. While in the next hall, Iloa used Loki as a spring board, jumping off his bent legs and spiraling through the group. Kunai flying, until she landed behind them in a crouch, completely unscathed. He stood up, looking at her at the other end of the hall. He smiled, absentmindedly punching a charging guard in the face. His eyes still locked on hers, “You're pretty good at this.”

She giggled, as he made his way down the hall to join her, “You have no idea,” she teased, grabbing his hand and darting toward the exit again.

They made it outside to the lumber yard. They were so close to being free of this place.

He was so distracted by how good they were together, he didn't realize they were in danger again until the shooting began. Loki threw up his shield quickly. But not quick enough.

Fourth mistake.

Her hand slipped from his. Iloa went down, coughing up blood and this time she didn't get back up. His shield faltered, a bullet tearing into his shoulder. He roared with rage, sending daggers flying at the shooters. He took several of them out but not all.

He had to get Iloa out of there. Somewhere safe so he could heal her. Tucking the case around his body, he bent to retrieve her now deathly still frame from the ground. His shield wavering inconsistently at his back. Bullets ripped into his arms and legs. To hell with himself, he had to save her.

One bullet had hit her in the stomach, another just below her left shoulder. Far to close to her heart for Loki's comfort. Blood pored down the front of her leathers and ran down her chin, mixing with his own as he pulled her close to his chest.

He prayed silently to the Gods, as he sprinted behind a nearby stack of logs. Please. Please don't let her die. He begged.

Crouching behind the stack he pulled her closer, brushing her crimson hair away from her face. Her normally rosy cheeks, growing far to pale, “Don't leave me. Not now. Not yet,” he begged her now. But as she laid lifeless in his arms, he was certain she would not return. He summoned all the magic he possessed laying his hands over her wounds. He willed it to heal, to close the tear, mend flesh and torn muscle, to bring back what had been taken from him.

Tears rolled silently down his cheeks, she did not wake. The skin beneath his palms had knit back together but still she did not rise, eyes remaining closed, chest absent of the breath of life. He wasn't strong enough to bring her back. Laying her carefully on the ground at his feet, he rose slowly. Lifting the case over his head, he settled it carefully next to her body.

Rage coursed through his veins and mind, walking out past his shelter. Bullets again began flying but he didn't bother with the shield this time. As the bullets tore at his limbs, he released his power in a deafening roar. Daggers impaling the guards, twenty times over, not caring that he was taking lives.

When the last of the guards lay dead, he crumpled to his knees. Burying his face in his hands. He yelled. A deep guttural sound, full of anguish. His bloody and torn body, shook violently as he sobbed uncontrollably, letting himself feel the pain. What did it matter now, she was gone anyway.

The calming tune he had heard in the training room less than 24 hours ago, filed his ears and numbed his senses. He lifted his head, eyes closed, absorbing the tune though he knew it could only be in his mind. If this was her ghost he would happily let her haunt him for the rest of his days.

Tiny arms circled his shoulders from behind, bringing the electricity and warmth that had become essential for him to survive. He couldn't breath past the lump forming in his throat. The tune slowly transformed into the healing one and he felt his body begin to mend itself. But the tune did nothing to fix his heart. He inhaled unsteadily, not trusting his mind he slowly opened his eyes. She was smiling sweetly at him, as she continued her hum eyes full of worry.

He grasped her arm and hiccupped on an exhale, his fingers meeting flesh not air. Pulling her quickly but carefully around his body, he wrapped his arms around her tiny frame her. His hands began roaming across her back, up over her shoulders, down her arms, before his brain allowed him to believe the feeling of her mended flesh and warmth beneath his palms. Finally embracing her and pulling her tightly against his chest, he could feel himself began to breathe again. Burying his face in her hair, he inhaled deep greedy gulps of her ocean scent. “I thought you were dead,” he breathed against her neck.

She held his head, running her hand soothingly over his hair, “I am alright. I was fine.”

His hands shot to her shoulders, jerking her away from him, “You were not fine,” he growled, “You were dead,” his voice broke and cracked around the sentence.

She was still smiling though it turned sad at his words, “I was fine. I promise, I am a lot stronger than you think.”

Her way of speaking cryptically, did nothing but fan the flames of his anger. “YOU WERE DEAD!” He screamed at her, standing abruptly causing her to hit the ground. “I don't know how you aren't dead,” he paced back and forth unable to quiet his mind. Unfortunately, all it kept coughing up was how foolish and vulnerable he must appear right now. He couldn't appear that way to anyone and he scrubbed violently at his face with his hands. Glaring back down at her, he continued his tirade, “You are a mortal, you were gone. How are you alive?”

Iloa stood slowly, a bit unsteady. Loki fought the urge to rush to her side. He wanted answers, he needed answers. It would do him no good to give into the urge to be her protector right now. He would get nothing out of her, if he touched her again. At the moment, they weren't in danger. He had to resist.

She sighed heavily, “I am not a mortal, Loki.”

He scoffed at her, “What else could you be?” He snarled.

Iloa snarled right back, “You know what Loki. I am not going to answer that. You don't listen anyway, why should I spill my entire life story to you? You can't fucking hear me! And even if you could you haven't earned a damn thing!”

She marched past him, grabbing her side as she breathed raggedly. He was right on her tail, seething. Rounding the stack of logs, she grabbed up the case slinging it over her shoulder. She winced at the action but marched on ignoring him completely.

He let her walk in front of him, until she started weaving slightly. They had moved far enough away from the facility now, that he dared calling out to her. “Wait,” he called, trying to catch up to up. But again she just ignored him. He grumbled curses under his breath before attempting again, “Give me the case, before you end up hurt again,” he said curtly. He was concerned she would pass out if she kept this up. He had already been through one death scare. He couldn't survive another one, honestly he wasn't surviving this one.

She glared over her shoulder at him, “No,” she growled and stuck her tongue out at him. Turning back around, she continued to march off, stumbling and wrapping her free arm around her middle.

That had him stopping short, “You impertinent, female! Here I am trying to be a chivalrous gentleman,” he quipped in a self-righteous tone, “And you can't stop yourself from being a foolish child.”

“I have a fucking name, Loki,” she yelled, spinning on her heels and wobbling dangerously. She panted heavily glaring at him, before the case slid off her shoulder to the ground and her knees buckled.

Sliding to her side on his knees, he caught her before she hit the ground. “Iloa,” he breathed, voice cracking and breaking around her name. Foolish and vulnerable. Foolish and vulnerable. His mind berated him and this time all he could think was that that damned voice needed to 'fuck off'.

“I'm fine. I'm just tired,” she was still breathing laboriously, waving a dismissive hand at him weakly.

Loki's heart ended up in his throat. He watched her eyes flutter, could see her pulse in her throat beating erratically. She was still far to pale.

“You are far from fine, Iloa. Please stop saying that,” he stroked her hair gently, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“We have been here too long,” she tried to sit up in his arms, “We have to get to the rendezvous.”

He gently held her down, “We have time, we are close,” he urged. “Please, stop being so stubborn and give yourself a moment.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off, “Just one.”

She sighed heavily, tilting her head in a slight nod. Her chest rose and fell heavily, and she fought to keep her eyes open. “Close your eyes,” he begged, “Rest for now.”

She shook her head, “I can rest,” deep inhale, “On the jet.”

“Please,” he begged, he couldn't keep the pain from lacing that one word. A tear escaping his eye, he scrubbed at his cheek before it went any further. He couldn't handle his mind reprimanding him again.

“Fine,” she huffed, he was fairly certain it wasn't just because she was angry with him. “You can,” inhale, “Put me,” inhale, “Down now.” She finally managed to get out. Loki shook his head and stubbornly she continued, “I know,” inhale, “You don't,” inhale, “Want to be,” inhale, “Holding me,” inhale, “Right now.”

There was a soul wrenching sadness in her voice that had Loki confessing, “There is nowhere in the entire cosmos I would rather be.” He managed a small smile but he knew it didn't reach his eyes. There was to much raw emotional pain, that he didn't know how to cope with, for a smile to be genuine right now.

She huffed again, placing her hand on his cheek. She smiled weakly but hers was genuine and trapped his breath in his lungs. She ran a thumb slowly across his cheek bone, he closed his eyes pressing softly into her hand, “Liar,” she teased.

He chuckled, despite the pain in his heart. Somehow knowing that she wasn't calling his words a lie but his smile, “That's my job,” he smoothed her hair again. “Rest,” and she nodded at him, her hand falling from his face, she closed her eyes.

He held her as she slept, her breathing evening out and slowing the panicky beat of his heart. Cradling her, he scanned the area. If he had calculated it correctly, they were only a few miles from the rendezvous. Technically, they weren't completely out of danger either. “I am going to protect you. All I want is for you to be safe,” he whispered, and pressed his lips tentatively to her forehead.

FOOLISH AND VULNERABLE. FOOLISH AND VULNERABLE. His mind prattled relentlessly. “Fuck off!” He growled low in his throat, and the inner chanting ceased, at least for the moment.

He reached for the case throwing the strap over his head and arm, careful not to jostle the sleeping woman in his lap. Once he had it situated, the case hanging behind his back, he turned back to Iloa. Wrapping an arm behind her neck, the other under her knees, he rose carefully to his feet. He would get her there safely. He swore to the Gods no more harm would befall her.

But when they got there, he would walk away. He must. The mistakes he had been counting, were the moments his guard had fallen exposing his feelings for her. And after almost losing her he knew he couldn't want her, need her, have her. He couldn't lose control. She deserved far more than he could ever give.

As they reached the jet, she stirred. Looking up at him, with that sapphire gaze, he reveled in the color, knowing it would be the last time he would ever see them this close. The color had finally returned to her cheeks and though sweaty, bloody, and dirt covered, she looked much better than when she had collapsed.

Natasha and Tony jumped off the jet, sprinting toward them, interrupting his thoughts. “Teen. Teeny, are you ok?” Tony's voice registered controlled panic and Loki had to admire him for it.

“Yea, Dad,” she rolled her eyes playfully, her voice much clearer than before. “Just needed a nap.” Tony took a deep breath and nodded as though he understood the response. Loki thought that maybe he did, even if it only confused him further.

She looked up at Loki again but he couldn't bring his eyes down to her again. “You can put me down now,” she said for the second time that day, “For real this time,” she added.

He did as she instructed, keeping a hand on her back to make sure she could stand on her own. But as soon as her feet were on the ground, Natasha grabbed her up in a back breaking hug. Loki winced right along with her.

Using every bit of his willpower, he turned away from her to Stark. Removing the case from his person he took it in both hands and pushed it forcefully into Tony's awaiting arms. “This is for you,” he said before dropping his hands. “And if you expect me to do these missions again.” He paused, inhaling deeply to stop the tremble that threatened his voice. He knew his next words would be the end, so he added a snarl, “Pair me with someone else. I will not work with her again.”

He didn't let Tony answer, brushing past him and his dumb struck expression. He made his way to the jet and climbed in, surreptitiously glancing back, seeing her standing there clingy to Natasha and Tony. He knew it had worked. Settling himself next to Thor, purposely placing himself as far away from her seat as possible. He chewed on his lips as the three boarded the jet. When it took off heading for the tower, he could feel her crying. His heart was breaking but he would not, could not admit it. This was for the best, she just didn't know it yet. Seemed like he might need a little convincing as well.