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sugoi-writes · 4 months ago

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This is Not a Love Story, This is an Autopsy - Part 1

A/N- PHEW! I wanted to kick out of my hiatus with something I've been itching to do... An original series! I wasn't quiet happy with some of my longer works (and trust, they will probably be rewritten, too). So, this is the start of something new! Something that'll be fresh!

I've been heavily inspired/influenced by @minkdelovely and @hazelfoureyes, who keep encouraging me to just... do it. So I'm doing it!

BEFORE you get too invested, this story WILL be dark. It will be GOREY, graphic at times, there will be filthy, raunchy smut... But this is gonna be a LOT of hurt, with VERY LITTLE comfort. Alastor will NOT be a kind man. The title should be taken seriously, if you wish to continue. BUT FOR NOW... PHEW... sorry, here's part one!!!

Warnings/Promises: Mystery murder woman, Alastor is intrigued, a poor demon suddenly doesn't have a face, cursing, banter, Mystery woman wants to kill Alastor, and Alastor doesn't have GREAT intentions either... Just-- Alastor being ALASTOR! (Mystery woman is referred to in 3rd person, but this may change! Not sure yet)

Please enjoy! ❤️ Header image created by bat-boness on Tumblr! ❤️

Alastor's evening stroll simulated any other: pleasantries exchanged with himself, and his dainty, dated tunes filling the air. This served as a chipper contrast to his surroundings of hurried footsteps, startled shrieks, and the general cacophony on this side of The Pentagram. Oh, tonight was certainly a good night! ...But it was about to get so much better.

The sound of wet squelching, akin to a crushed watermelon, caught his attention. His deer-like ears twisted in it's direction, his smile expanding. What a curious sound! One he was aptly familiar with! It could only be one thing...

Gurgling, disjointed cries and the sputtering of fluids sounded like a grotesque melody. Alastor could hear steady, heavy breathing keeping the tempo. An act of passion... well, in the killing sense, surely. Ever the curious sort, Alastor sent his shadow to investigate. Its wide eyes take in the sight of the alleyway expectantly, eager to witness the fuss first.

A large figure loomed over a hapless victim, the arms flinching and trembling subconsciously as the attacker worked diligently. The sounds from before had morphed into a gut wrenching cutting noise: the unmistakable sound of a sharp knife carving through flesh... but where?

The shadow blinked, inching closer to the scene to get a better look. However, the attacker flinched, turning towards the apparation with a speed that would snap the neck of a human. It was spotted.

In the blink of an eye, a knife came off of a thigh garter belt, hurdling full force towards the Shadow. The knife struck between the entity’s eyes, a heated hiss thrown back to the stranger. Alastor's obedient pet slinked back to its master, unable to give a more helpful report. Alastor hummed in amusement, taking two wide strides to his right. Now, he was stationed at the mouth of the alley, his teeth gleaming under the dim streetlight.

"Do forgive me, dear, I am not known to eavesdrop," a lie, Alastor thought," But I couldn't help but overhear a scuffle~ What did that poor beau do to deserve such fury?"

Alastor wanted to be nearer, to see what you had done to the now-corpse of the demon... but alas, he couldn't just yet. Even with the back facing him, the Radio Demon got a better glimpse at the disheveled stranger.

A large, wide shoulder span dipped in and flowed back out in a delightful curve: a tasteful hourglass shape. Brunette and blonde hair cascaded just past the shoulders, spattered with blood… that was even more tasteful. Judging from the spray's pattern, this blood came from somewhere else… or someone else, in this case. The broad shoulders led to muscular, intense looking arms. The limbs were so red that it seemed they were dipped in a vat of coagulated blood. He could scarcely see the little nicks and scars that littered the taunt skin.

When Alastor continued to walk forward, a sharp turn of the head greeted him. Startling, grey eyes with bloodshot whites glared back at him. The figure didn't answer him, staring him down with a look that could frighten a dictator. Blonde and brunette fringe framed the face, a soft contrast to the rest of the body. Full, flushed cheeks from exertion, complimented by wide eyes and a set of thick, heavy lashes. And, dozens of shallow, silver-white scars littering the pale, plump face. Alastor's eyebrows rose with interest, the silence only motivating him to get closer.

The figure growled, snarling like a caged animal as it turned fully towards him... a woman, he assumed. This woman had blood sprayed across her entire upper body, indicating that this was indeed a passionate act of murder.

Alastor ceased his advances, both hands coming up in mock-surrender.

"Oh come now, dear, I mean no harm... 'just curious~ Won't you humor a demon for a spell? You might just hear your little story on my broadcast tonight~" he nearly sang, eyes squinting and watching carefully. He could tell that this beast of a woman was on high alert, and would likely try and jump him if he so much as thought the wrong word. Though he was confident in his abilities to defend himself, he was no bodybuilder: a fisty cuff that got too heated could mean his second death.

The woman’s gaze remained unphased as she came to her feet. Then, it morphed into a look of recognition.

While the mystery woman realized who was speaking to her, Alastor discovered what she had been carving off of the victim: his face. Alastor watched with an irrational sense of delight as the heavily scarred woman faced him properly. He couldn't help but shift his eyes to the scalped face of the victim, feeling his hands ball up into eager fists behind his back.

The cadaver’s face was grasped in the brunette’s calloused, large hands, blood sliding through her knuckles like a babbling creak in the woods. Had he been a sane man, he would have found the image unsightly. But between his fall from grace and his afterlife of trouble… he found the sight utterly delicious.

Alastor swallowed something in his throat... nerves? Excitement? A mutual interest between strangers? What an evening to find a like-minded individual…

"...You're the Radio Demon..." the murderer said simply. Her voice was a hard, uneven gravel, as if she hardly spoke at all. Alastor's smile widened, giddy at the budding interaction.

"Ahh, my reputation precedes me~ But you can call me Alastor, sweetheart. And what may I call you, hmm?" The tone of his sing-song charm did not match the cannibalistic mania of his too-wide smile. His voice was the cheese, nestled inside an obvious mousetrap.

Alastor stepped even closer, extending a hand out to the rabid-looking woman. Her steely eyes looked to his hand, before back to his face. Her expression remained unchanged.

"...I don't do handshakes," she replied bluntly, her gaze burrowing holes into Alastor's complexion. She seemed to watch him just as intently, acutely aware of his dark aura. Her words sought to disguise her own intrigue.

"Ahh, apologies, dear-- Deeeaaaar...?"

Alastor raised a brow while he drew out the last word, eye twitching with annoyance. He cocked his head slightly as he leaned in, trying to goad her into a response. He expected a name sometime tonight. A name... just a name. If he had her name, he could work with that. Just let him get under that barrier, even if it's just a crack--

"I don't have one," the woman spat back, either uninterested or able to see through Alastor’s antics (of which, the Radio Demon wasn't sure).

A record scratch leaked through his frequency at the abrupt response. The curtness throttled his already thinking patience... Alastor's wide smile stammered for a moment, a tense chuckle bleeding through his clenched jaw. His fuzzy and sound-dampened amusement was practically oozing irritation...

Likewise, the tension that hung between the pair was far too thick.

This needed to be carved through with a knife, Alastor thought. He could still do this.

"Nonsense dear! Why, EVERYONE has a name!!! Surely there is something that people use to call you? To refer to you???" Alastor was a bit surprised by his own persistence. Why did her lack of name manage to throttle him?

...right. He found her fascinating, that's all. And fascinating people in Hell were often easy to exploit... easy to force into a deal. And by extension, she would be useful and entertaining.

"...people usually don't get the chance to talk to me," the brunette replied. Her stoney, hardened face slowly shifted into a sly smile. She chortled wickedly, licking her cracked lips,"...but they usually beg for their lives right about now."

Her sudden lunge surprises Alastor momentarily, before his pitch tendrils snap into action. The mad woman is caught and suspended mid-launch, a heavy tentacle struggling to keep her knife-wielding arm in check. Alastor clicks his tongue mockingly at her aggression. Back to square one, it seemed. What a simple creature!

"Ohh dear, is that a way to talk to someone? If you plan to stab me, at least offer to take me on a stroll first. Perhaps to a coffee shop?" The deranged woman's mouth was tightly pulled into a horrifying snarl, teeth bared and glistening with spit. Had she contracted rabies? Or was she still riding the feral high of a fresh kill? Neither option seemed to startle or surprise Alastor all that much.

He paid her no mind as he walked around her in a slow, teasing circle: like a predator circling helpless prey. But the woman grunted and struggled just the same, hair falling into her face as she tried to break free. The noises she made had shivers of pride running up Alastor's spine. This interest almost seemed... more than that. More than morbid curiosity… He shook the thought away from his mind, his cheeks burning from how harshly he forced himself to smile.

Alastor stepped within striking distance, another tentacle wrapping around the knife-wielding hand as he looked at her troubled face.

"G-Go-- nnnhhhfucker-- Go fuck yourself, freak," the woman hissed, spitting towards the Radio Demon. He simply tilted his head, the spittle missing his pristine cheek. Annoying and gauche... he would have to break her of that garish habit.

"I'm afraid carnal desires haven't interested me for quite some time. Well... past the one you dabbled with moments ago. I must say I'm mighty interested in your handywork~"

Alastor's taloned hand squished the cheeks of the captured woman, turning her face this way and that. Alastor was smirking with an air of superiority as he took in every imperfection and scar that maimed her round face... To him, she was breathtaking, each scar revealing an incident or story he would be familiar with. He felt interested in dissecting her, and figuring out just what or who caused the nicks and cuts.

Thankfully, his brush with murder and other crimes made breaking down her injuries a breeze. Most of them could be summarized as self defense marks left by a weaker victim. This woman was STRONG... There was no question about that. And she wasn't afraid of getting dirty to get her desires fulfilled. He could find that quality to be quite charming... quite useful.

"If you truly do not have a name... might I suggest one?"

The question puzzles the brunette, eyes blinking in rapid succession. It took her a few moments to process the offer.

"You... want to name me?" She retorted, her squished face distorting her bewilderment," Like some goddamn PET?"

"I’m simply offering you one, dear. No need to make a fuss. Perhaps you could find it helpful, should you ever need to be referred to more... directly. With familiarity. You needn't take it, if it displeases you."

Alastor sighed dramatically as the woman thrashed in anger, shaking his head in tandem. It was quite easy to backtrack with this one, wasn’t it?

The woman stared back at the Radio Demon, intense grey embracing hellish red in a heated standoff. One could kill the other in a heartbeat, their acts only halted by straining tentacles. They were in a tense ceasefire, if only for their own sakes.

The woman sighed, relenting after what felt like an eternity," If it causes you to let go of me... you may give me a name, Radio Demon."

"Alastor," the male corrected, pinching her cheeks with harsher intent. The woman winced, but nodded curtly," A-Alastor..."

The venom that oozed from her harsh tone made molten heat fill Alastor’s chest. She could be obedient… how interesting.

The deer demon sneered, face reflecting his earlier delight as his eyes briefly flickered. The name rolled off her tongue so easily... Oh, he liked seeing her like this. Another charming quality he could get used to… and take use of.

"Carver."

The woman blinked, scoffing," Really?"

"Yes. Carver. You could always go by 'The Carver', if you wished, but I rather think the name suits you... a little on the nose, maybe, but simple. Just like you." Alastor's thumb rubs over the woman's cheek, a claw dangerously close to gouging her eye out. The demoness’ face softens, the touch causing conflicting feelings to flit across it.

Fright, anger, surprise, and… yearning. Had Alastor not been observant and experienced with reading people, he might have missed a few of these. Hell, the micro expressions lasted for seconds, if that… But thankfully, his eyes were as sharp as the blade hovering above his head.

Alastor’s hand pauses on her flushed cheek, stashing the useful information in the recesses of his dark mind.

"...fine... That name is fine, Alastor."

Carver fell to the dank and rancid ground with a heavy thud, Alastor clasping his hands together resolutely. Tentacles were dismissed as he eyed her eagerly.

“Splendid, dear! Carver it is! Now, about our earlier topic–”

Carver dusted off her knees as she stood, eyeing the deer-esque demon cautiously. She allowed him to continue, despite her better judgment to gut him then and there.

“What do you say to a bit of coffee, over lunch?”

Carver blinks for a moment, then another, arms folding in front of her chest,” You're joking, right?”

Alastor practically giggles, a dark tendril reforming to hold up the skinned face of her victim,” I'm more of an emcee than a comedian, dear… though I can never pass on a good punchline! Haha!”

When Alastor extends the face to the woman, he squints mischievously,” But no, I'm being quite genuine… Tomorrow, Cannibal Town. There's a quaint little shop by Rosie’s Emporium, the Brimstone Brew… I trust that you've heard of it?”

Curtly, Carver nods, taking her trophy from the Radio Demon indignantly,” Vaguely. I just started working a new job closeby, actually,” she admits. The moment she does, she mentally curses herself. Alastor’s eyes widen, a hand childishly coming to cover his lips. Or more accurately, like a elitist, royal woman with her hand fan, trying to stife her reaction to juicy gossip.

“Pray tell, what do you do~?”

Carver scoffs, casting her gaze anywhere other than the man’s demented smile,” …just some butcher shop. The manager apparently got… well, butchered. So there was a vacancy that the Assistant Manager filled. Soooo… I– I was pulled in to become the new assistant there.”

Alastor seemed on the verge of jumping out of his own skin, leaning forward intently.

“You? Working in one of my favorite stops? Oh, how convenient, dear! Then hows about I ‘meat’ you there! Haha!”

The joke did not go unnoticed, a gruff ‘really?’ following after. He would need to work on her enthusiasm, too.

“See, we could go for a little stroll, and you can tell me more about this new venture of yours! Why, if it's entertaining enough, I'm sure your story would captivate an audience! My audience!”

Carver didn't get the chance to protest as the dapper demon took a few steps back, tipping his imaginary hat her way.

“Let's shoot for 11 o’clock, ‘sharp as your knife! I look forward to getting to know you better… Carver.”

And within a second, the crimson and ebony demon vanished into the shadows. Carver was left confused and stupefied by the entire interaction. She didn't even get a chance to tell Alastor that she actually had work that morning… not that the Radio Demon would stand for it. But, maybe she could brush him off easier this way… She was sure her new manager would intervene or prevent the entire situation from escalating...

The woman dug around in her satchel, until she found a gallon freezer bag. She unceremoniously threw the bloody, skinned face of her victim into her pack, rolling her eyes. Maybe ‘Carver’ was an alright name after all…

What a fucking day… and what a fucking man, to have the nerve to be so… so…

Carver blinked a few times, words escaping her. He was an asshole, but also seemed to have manners… He was infamous, but didn't seem to match the dark reputation… He was bitchy, but also… surprisingly gentle with her?

Carver touched her cheek, where a taloned finger once lingered. A swift flush ghosted across her face as she kicked the corpse on the ground, huffing defiantly. The sooner she could shake this guy off her back, the better. She didn't do ‘friends’. She didn't even have acquaintances. And yet, all in one night, she was given a nickname and asked to go on a coffee date, seemingly just to… talk?

Never would she have imagined such an odd scenario before now. But, she did have an interesting opportunity. Take him out on a date before you stab him, she loosely recalled. And she was more than eager to take him up on that offer to get him off her back.

Carver chuckled, clicking her tongue as she started the trek to her apartment. Maybe she could call in sick tomorrow! Why not?

She could humor this man, if only to hear what his screams would sound like. She hoped that his terror sounded as desperate and sweet as the ones from his broadcast… An artist often immolated their work, and she had a feeling that his anguish would taste just as divine...

This is not a love story. This is an autopsy.

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slowsweetlove · 2 months ago

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Everybody is invited to post along. No need to post every day. Just post when something tickles you right.

Grab the header below if you want to, and please tag #DDofAB and @slowsweetlove , so I can reblog.

Going to no pressure tag a few people who may want to play along again:

@aust-een @ab4eva @avonne-writes

I hope for a few participants across all the fandoms of Masters of the Air, The Bikeriders, Dune 2, Elvis and everything else.

Look what the cat draged in.

Selfie

Throwback to ten years ago.

Brown

High as a kite.

You need a date.

Fever

Your comfort character of Austins roles.

Cap

Favourite co-star.

A picture that imploded in the fandom.

Shoes

Kindness

Quote

Eyes

Security

Shut up and kiss me

Oil, motors and planes

Kindred spirit

I’ve been expecting you

Ain’t never seen someone like you.

I just can’t get you out of my head.

A song that reminds you of Austin

utterly devastated

Fake it ‘til you make it

Give your fanfic writers a boost and share your favourite MOTA AU

Ghosts of times past

You’re off the hook.

Goodbye

After dark.

Samhain

#DDofAB #austin butler #mota #masters of the air #the bikeriders #dune part 2 #elvis 2022 #the shannara chronicles #caught stealing #gale cleven #benny cross #feyd rautha #wil ohmsford #the carrie diaries #sebastian kydd

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 1 year ago

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Dodge Challenger R/T

This custom Challenger was originally a Plum Crazy Purple car. It has a Shaker hood TA spoilers and dual mirrors. During its custom build it was fully disassembled and blasted before it was finished in custom PPG paint. The custom 528ci all-aluminum Indy HEMI engine features a Maxx aluminum block Manley rods Wiseco custom dome pistons 426-1 Indy heads with Super Mod porting K-Motion springs and 10-degree titanium keepers. The engine is fed by a 950cfm Holley Ultra HP carburetor through a port-matched Indy 426-2 intake. It?s also equipped with an Indy Maxx oil pump and oil pan custom 24-gallon aluminum fuel cell with a Holley racing fuel pump MSD Pro Billet distributor custom 1-1/4 ceramic-coated headers flowing into custom 3 exhaust with X-pipe and ceramic-coated Holly Flo Tec mufflers. A Be Cool aluminum radiator with dual thermostatically controlled fans Meziere high-volume water pump and Indy reverse-flow water pump keeps the engine running cool. Richmond 6-speed manual transmission with a long shifter and McCleod dual disc clutch with Lakewood scattershield transfers the power through a Dennys heavy-duty aluminum metal matrix driveshaft and DTS custom-built Dana 60 rear end with Strange axles. This Challenger features a custom frame and suspension with a full roll cage Aldan coilover shocks and Magnum Force A-arms with 1-1/8? sway bar up front Aldan coilovers out back Modified Competition Engineering engine and mid-plate mounts and full aluminum tubs. Wilwood dual master cylinder and billet disc brakes at all corners provide stopping power to the one-off Boyd Coddington billet wheels and Nitto 555Extreme ZR tires. Additionally this Challenger was equipped with a Painless wiring harness Summit battery disconnect dual batteries mini starter variable speed wipers Electro-life electric windows Halogen headlights and custom driving lights. The restored interior features Legendary leather seats a Rim Blow steering wheel center console full Auto Meter Phantom gauges and tachometer a custom Autosound stereo with 5-disc CD changer Sony Xplod amp and Pioneer Aramid fiber speakers with IMPP cones electric antennae tinted glass and air conditioning.

#Dodge Challenger R/T #car #cars #muscle car #american muscle #mopar #moparperformance #moparnation #moparworld #dodge #dodge challenger #challenger

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samsalami66 · 4 months ago

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Ball is Life

ITS TIME. First part of the soccer au is done.

Read on ao3!

Hob gasped some desperate breaths between the cool water hitting his face, which was burning hot from the past forty-five minutes he had spent on the pitch. The board showed a draw, one to one, and the game was not going quite as they had hoped for. Fawney’s defence was supposed to crumble a lot quicker under their relentless attacks, but so far their defenders were doing a fantastic job of forcing Dream and him out of position, making it almost impossible to get a good flank towards Dream or vice versa. None of their direct attacks had worked so far, and no free-kick had found its way into Fawney’s goal.

What they really needed right now was a corner. Hob was well known for his headers, his jumping height rivalled by few others in the world, while no one else knew how to prepare a shot for him quite like Dream did.

When Hob managed to blink through the water in his eyes, he saw Dream staring at him from halfway across the field. Their eyes found each other easily, as they always did during a game. There was something about Dream that made Hob aware of his presence, his piercing blue eyes on him. (That something might just be the crush he had developed for his teammate and best friend of two years, but Hob was nothing if not a master of ignorance. They were friends, and only that, at least as long as Dream didn’t say otherwise. If that ever changed, well. Hob would gladly give his friend whatever he asked for.)

Once their gazes locked, both of them knew what their next attack would be after the break. Force a corner, abuse Hob’s superior jump-height and finally get that lead against the Riggers. Dream nodded, once, and let his head fall slightly to the right. Right side corner.

With a last gulp of water, Hob made his way back to his position on the field, waiting for the ref to announce the start of the second half. His heartbeat was loud in his ears, louder than the fans cheering them on from the sidelines, but not louder than the sound of the whistle cutting through the air.

They didn’t immediately get their chance. The Riggers were attacking with renewed energy, a fresh player in their offence wearing down Ken and Cori by the minute.

But then, in the fifty-first minute, Matthew managed to get the ball from one of the mid-fielder’s, quickly passing it to John, while Dream and Hob were making a run for the penalty area. A glance back showed that the ball was already being passed to them, a high shot from just behind the halfway line. Hob accepted it with his chest, then swiftly turned to dribble it towards the goal. One of their defenders tried to block him, but Hob, instead of trying to get past him and towards the goal, simply shot the ball against his shin and thereby got a right corner for the Fiddlers.

Part one of the plan was successful.

Hob threw a grin and a wink into the direction of the defender, Alex Burgess, who only stared back at him with a frown. There was no time to analyse that look any further though, as Dream was already jogging towards the corner point and preparing his shot. His friend’s eyes were on the goal, not on any of the players, but Hob knew all too well where Dream would be shooting. They had done this a thousand times in training, knew each other’s passes better than anyone else's.

When the whistle once again cut through the air, Hob ran from his spot behind Burgess, thereby successfully freeing himself for a header. He jumped, just as the ball came in from above, and with a final push the ball soared for the goal, the angle impossible to stop for the goalkeeper. But just as his feet were about to touch back on the ground pain shot through his head from the right side, the surprise making him miss his landing and hit the ground with a pained groan. His vision was turning and twisting worryingly as he tried to blink through the black coming in from all sides.

Fans and players alike were shouting around him, most of them in ecstasy, some in anger. Hob was not entirely sure where the shouts were coming from; from above, beneath or before him, but they were so loud. Sure as hell wasn’t a good sign, especially not with the nausea now overtaking his senses.

He pressed his teeth together against the feeling and tried blinking some more to stop the world from spinning before his eyes, just to see blue eyes staring down at him with obvious worry once he finally managed. The lighthearted grin he wanted to throw at his friend quickly turned into a grimace as his head began to pound at even the slightest of movements.

“Hob,” He heard Dream’s low voice over the ever-present chorus of cheering fans, and it felt like a warm balm soothing his aching mind. “Hob, can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” His voice was little more than a groan, but Dream probably still understood him. Gods above, but his friend really was beautiful from this angle. All untameable black hair and marble skin and eyes like the endless skies above. Perhaps his best friend was not really a person at all, but rather a painting or statue, come to life. He was Greek after all, so maybe he had just escaped one of their museums one night and now they were missing their prettiest marble statue. He was named after a God, so perhaps it was one of the Sleep God’s depictions that he sprang from.

“Do you know that you look like a Greek God?”

Well, fuck him, that was certainly one thing to say to your best friend. Thankfully, Dream merely raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk stretching over his lips.

“I appreciate the sentiment, even if it's probably the concussion talking.”

It most certainly was not, but Dream didn’t have to know that. Probably better that way, Hob had different problems right then.

“I think I might throw up.”

That was apparently enough to force Dream into action, as he quickly raised a hand to call the medical team onto the field. The worry was back on his face, something that will never fail to make Hob’s heart ache. He remembered all too well, when Dream had still played for the Riggers, the looks of arrogance and indifference he had always faced Hob with on the field, the smug satisfaction when Hob had been fouled by one of their awful defenders. On more than one occasion Hob had had to leave the pitch, with injuries much worse than a simple concussion, and all Dream had done was smirk and feign disinterest. To now be granted his care and affection was more than Hob had ever imagined.

The Dream he knew now was just so sweet. Hob would have never believed that beneath that exterior of arrogance and smugness Dream could be such a loveable and caring human being, and yet here he was, lying beneath his watchful gaze and knowing that his old rival would fight anyone who came too close to him. He felt safe when Dream was there, even if the man’s fists had once given him a black eye.

Funny, how time could change people.

“Don’t pass out on me, Robert.” Hob heard Dream’s voice above him, and he had to blink his eyes open again to look at his friend. He hadn’t even noticed that he had closed them. Or that the nausea was slowly settling back into something more bearable.

“I would never, dove.” he answered, but he could feel his words slur together and his eyelids growing heavier with every passing second. Blasted concussions.

“I will kill Alex the next chance I get.”

A tired laugh escaped Hob at the murmured statement from his friend and he blindly reached to his side to pat Dream’s knee. He missed and ended up hitting his shin, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

“No murder on the pitch, love, we’ve talked about this.” There was no answer to that, but Hob could make out a scoff on Dream’s face which made him snort softly. “How about you win us this game and bring me some Gyros on your way back instead?”

“You’re terrible, Kollitós.” His friend whispered, fondness clear in his voice.

They ignored the approaching medical team for a moment longer, sharing a long look before Hob would have to be carried off the field. There was fear in Dream’s eyes, almost invisible beneath his carefully crafted mask of indifference. Fear for Hob’s health, for one, but Hob knew that was not the full extent of it. Playing against his old club alone, facing his old teammates on his own, without Hob by his side. The possibility of failure, of losing this match which was so important to him, to disappoint their mates and their fans.

Dream was always bloody terrified to disappoint.

But Hob knew he would not. Didn’t even know if he could. Dream always delivered when it came down to it, his crippling anxiety spurring him on and on, way past any healthy limits. Sometimes Hob wondered what would happen the day Dream failed for once; if it might break the one thing his friend still had left for himself.

If it came to that, Hob would be there to build him back up. To remind him that failure was not the end, and that it would never ruin Hob’s trust in him.

Which in turn reminded Hob that he could place some well-earned trust in Dream’s hands right then and there.

Dream’s eyes widened comically as Hob took off his own captain’s armband and wrapped it around his arm, patting it in a friendly manner.

“Hob-”

“Shhh, love, trust me. This is your game.”

Dream looked about two seconds away from crying, his lower lashes shining ever so slightly in the afternoon sun. They weren’t sad tears, just emotional ones. Both of them were well aware of the message this was sending, allowing Dream to be the team’s captain for the first time in a match against his old club. A Fuck You, as clear as these assholes deserved. And Hob trusted him to show them up, to send them back home in pieces.

If anyone could do it, it was Dream.

Hob gave his arm a last squeeze as the medical team started blocking his view on his friend, preparing to move him onto a stretcher. It was the last Hob saw of Dream before he was carried off the pitch. But that was alright, because they would see each other again at the hospital, right after Dream kicked the Riggers’ asses.

There was a knock on the door of Hob’s hospital room an astounding twenty minutes after the game had been supposed to end. Astounding, because the stadium was about twenty minutes away from the hospital. So either Dream had learned how to teleport, or he had skipped the dressing room completely in order to see him.

Hob decided it would probably be best not to think too hard on that second option, lest his heart might actually skip out of his chest.

Instead, he called out for Dream to come in.

And come in he did, sweaty and out of breath and shaking, excess adrenaline still pumping through his system. He was still dressed in his jersey, shorts and even football boots, confirming that he had indeed run from the pitch directly to the hospital, after playing a full ninety minute match…

Gods above, but Hob really adored this man.

In the blink of an eye Dream rushed across the room and threw himself into Hob’s arms, breathing hectic breaths into his neck and grasping the hospital gown between them like a lifeline. Hob was helpless to do anything but wrap this ridiculous man into the tightest hug he could possibly manage. Eventually, Dream’s heavy breaths turned into sobs and then into tiny sniffles, tears flowing freely in the safety of their embrace. Hob was so proud of his friend for allowing this, for trusting him enough to hold him in these moments when everything came crashing down.

It had taken them a while to get to this point, for Dream to understand that his emotions were not a weakness, but an inherent part of him which could make him even stronger. He wasn’t the man he was despite of them, but because of them.

Old Burgess had done a great job of convincing him of the opposite, and sometimes Hob wished he could still strangle the fucker for what he had put Dream through.

Not that it mattered much, the man was already six feet under, exactly where he belonged. Still, it might bring Hob a small measure of comfort to kick the dead man’s body.

“You are thinking.” His friend murmured into his neck, voice hoarse from crying, successfully distracting Hob from his violent daydream. “What are you thinking about?”

“Disturbing the peace of the dead.” he murmured, simply, before placing a kiss into Dream’s sweaty hair. “Might even be worth the criminal charges.”

A pinch to his side had Hob yelping and Dream laughing into his neck, the awful grating sound of his best friend’s giggles filling Hob’s chest with indescribable warmth. There was nothing quite like hearing Dream laugh, really laugh, without fearing judgement. Just the thought that such a wonderful human being had been shamed for experiencing and expressing joy in his own unique way never failed to break Hob’s heart a little bit every time. How could anyone hate this laugh, when it was so precious, so sweet and innocent?

Hob didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand the so-called fans the Riggers had, nor did he understand that bastard Roderick Burgess.

And even if these people were in the past (or in Hell), Hob couldn’t help the anger he still felt on behalf of his best friend every time he remembered the way Dream had forced down his laugh, had apologised for delighting in a situation.

Never again.

Hob squeezed his friend tightly against his chest, closed his eyes to soak up the joy and warmth radiating off of him with appropriate greediness. Appropriate, because he didn’t just kiss this infuriatingly adorable man stupid, even if he really really wanted to. So actually, he was holding himself back here. Or at least that was what he kept telling himself.

A knock sounded from the door, which had Dream’s head shooting upwards in interest. Still, he didn’t move from where he was draped over Hob, much to the other man’s delight. Thank God he wasn’t hooked up to a heart monitor, else it might have made all his holding back utterly useless with how his heart was racing over this simple display of trust. Dream knew he was welcome, that his affection was welcome, even in the face of strangers. He knew Hob would protect him, and would stand by his side. Always.

“Come in!” Hob called, voice breaking ever so slightly. If Dream noticed, he didn’t comment.

The door opened, and in came, well, everyone. The entire team, lead on by Cori and John, filtered into the tiny hospital room, arms overflowing with take-away boxes that smelled of garlic, thyme and oregano and all the other spices Hob had come to associate with Greek cuisine, his favourite ever since Dream had stepped foot into his life.

He let out a groan as the smell hit his nose, his stomach rumbling in interest.

“I fucking love you guys, did I ever mention?”

“Once or twice,” John smirked, patting Hob’s shoulder where it poked out from beneath Dream.

“You scared the shit out of us with your little stunt, Hobert.” Merv remarked from where he had already monopolised the single chair stood to the far side of the room. His tone was rough and grim as ever, but an edge of concern was lodged somewhere near his constant frown. Hob felt oddly touched.

“Don’t you worry about me, old man, it needs way more than a little concussion to knock me out. After all, you would all terribly miss my voice if I stopped talking for a whole five minutes.”

Cori chuckled by Hob’s other side, sitting cross-legged on the floor and unpacking their food. “I’d be worried if anything ever managed to shut you up for more than a second, Robbie. I have a feeling not even knocking you out would be enough. Though who knows, perhaps it’s worth some consideration if we might have silence during training for once.”

Hob simply grinned at Cori, knowing full well that his mate loved to hear him talk the most out of all these people. On more than one occasion he had called Hob in the middle of the night to talk to him for some hours, saying it helped him with falling asleep after a hard day. Every jab was in good humour, and Hob delighted in Cori’s pout when he stretched a bit in order to ruffle his hair.

From Hob’s other side, a comforting hand on his shoulder, Gilbert, their trainer, cleared his throat, catching their attention.

“Robert, in all seriousness, I request that you take at least two weeks off for your recovery. I do not wish to see you anywhere near our training facilities until then. A head injury is nothing to be trifled with, and I will not allow you to endanger your health any further on my watch. Once the doctors have given their okay after that we will see to get you back on the field.”

Gilbert’s eyes were warm and caring, filled to the brim with the same softness he always held for this team and its players. They were his wards, and he the father figure a lot of them had been lacking before they came to Fiddler’s Green. He cared for them, in a position where not many other people would, and had thereby gained their respect, trust and loyalty. It was with that feeling in mind that Hob nodded, obediently, knowing Gilbert wanted the best for him. For all of them.

“I was due a vacation anyways,” he quipped, which had the other men chuckling to themselves. They all bloody hated vacations, sitting still for days on end. But he would not be contrary to Gilbert.

Instead he squeezed Dream once more, his weight on top of him calming in its consistency, and pressed a kiss into his hair, simply because he could. And, well, perhaps also because it made Dream nuzzle closer to him.

This was where they belonged.

He grabbed one of the boxes Cori had unpacked and smiled at his teammates. “Now, tell me how the rest of that game went guys, you know I hate being left in the dark.”

And if the rest of the day went down in cuddles, laughter and tales of dramatic plays then, well. Hob felt right at home.

#dreamling #the sandman #hob gadling #dream of the endless #salamiwrites #dreamling soccer au #Fuck it we Ball #hurt/comfort

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lewsnumerounofan · 1 year ago

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party foul part 2 (jeremiah fisher x reader)

summary: so what if you're in love with your best friend jeremiah fisher? one drunk kiss won't change anything. right? (spoiler: it does)

notes: not biblically accurate conrad, kissing, smut, unprotected oops, somewhat public, 3k words, reader previously dated co**ad, angst/miscomm., not proof read at all

+ part 1

+ i fucking hate htis one its so bad i'm so sooryim gooo fuckjuhnbsorry oh my god and dw abt the header image!!!!!! it's okay!!!!!

your phone hit voicemail again. it was the seventh time you’d tried calling jere, but still no luck.

“maybe he’s staying at a friends place,” belly supplied, but she looked worried too. ever since you and jere had kissed the night before, he’d been mia. steven, you, conrad and belly had all taken turns trying to reach him with no success. at first it had been expected, but it was now rounding out on 24 hours since he’d left, and worry was starting to permeate amongst everyone. well, everyone except taylor. she wasn’t too worried about it. he’s probably just moping around feeling sorry for himself, she’d said.

unfortunately, you couldn’t quite master taylor’s level of nonchalance. in fact, you felt awful. for a few minutes, everything had been perfect. you’d been kissing the boy of your dreams–the boy you were in love with. and then…

“yeah, he kinda checks out when he’s upset. he did the same thing after mom died.”

conrad, this time. him and nicole had just come back from driving through town trying to find him. you nodded, but a tightness was slinking into your chest. jere hadn’t ‘checked out’ after suzanna died. he’d called you, and together you’d talked for hours as he wandered the streets of boston. never before had he shut you out like this. it made you worried. more than worried; it made you feel scared.

“i think i’ll try him again, just in case,” you said. because you couldn’t not do something. because you were scared you’d messed things up permanently, because jeremiah had never, ever ignored your calls.

“okay, well i’m ordering pizza. jere disappearing or not, i’m fucking starving,” said taylor. she’d hopped off her place on the counter and now started flipping through the take out flyers stuck to the fridge. steven and belly sounded their agreement.

“i can pick it up,” you offered, “it’ll give me a chance to go look for him too.”

you were out the door soon after, steven and taylor’s argument about whether pineapple belonged on pizza still lingering in the background. feeling a bit better now that you had something to do, you let the warm summer air breeze through your car windows. jere was out there somewhere, probably doing just fine. it’s not like he’d do something dumb or get himself hurt. if you were honest with yourself, he’d most likely just crashed at an old hook up’s house. there were plenty of those around in cousin’s, and they’d likely all enjoy having jere back. you tried not to think about it.

the pizza place was a 20 minute drive from the fischer’s, and you took the long route along the beach. it was a perfect summer night: seagulls called off shore, the sunset lingered to the west, and couples lazily strolling back to their cars. it was the type of night jere loved.

you were a couple minutes early for your order, so you decided to make the most of it and join the sparse crowds decorating the beach. you pulled over and parked, grabbing a light sweater for the evening weather.

amongst the waves and people’s quiet chatter, the beach possessed a lingering hum. it was a sound that accompanied many of your fondest childhood memories, and you took comfort in it’s familiarity and peacefulness. you couldn’t help but think of jere–think about what had passed between you last night, mostly.

did you finally tell her you're in love with her?

you hadn’t been able to get steven’s words out of your head. the thought of jere ever liking you was one thing, but love? it felt too good to be true.

and besides, it’s not as though it would matter if you never even got to see jeremiah again. for the first time, you almost felt annoyed at his vanishing act. he’d left you confused and frustrated and wanting more.

just then, as if you’d conjured him yourself, you noticed jere on the beach before you. his curls were unmistakable–almost the same colour as the sand. his hands were tan and strong as he leaned back on them, sun-bleached bracelets wrapped around his wrists. you wanted to take a picture of him there. keep this precious moment of discovery and summer immortalised forever.

and then he turned around, blue eyes catching yours.

you could see the moment worry set in by the tight line that furrowed over his brows. he started to rise from the sand and you moved towards him, carried by adrenaline and anger and a little bit of excitement. halfway down the beach you caught each other, but before you could speak jeremiah was shrugging past you.

“you shouldn’t have come.”

the waves and gulls seem to mock you then–the whole perfect august night laughed in your face as you stopped, stomach sinking. it took a few moments for his words to register, and a few more for you to whip around and catch up to him. he was almost past your car when you finally managed to grasp onto his sleeve. deja vu hit you hard enough that you almost stumbled. just last night this same action led to jere’s lips on yours, his mouth hot over your body. today’s jere must have seen the memory on your face because he scoffed, pulling back sharply.

“see? you can’t even think about what happened without looking disgusted,” he said. his voice was low but convicted. closed. you hated it.

“jere, what are you talking about? you wouldn’t know anything about how i feel–you ran away last night and no one’s been able to contact you since,” you tried. he made an attempt to keep walking but you didn't let him, this time coming to stand between him and the road. ridiculous.

“no calls, no texts, nothing. do you have any idea how worried everyone has been?”

at this jere’s eyes blazed and he took a step forwards, letting his head lower as he spit the words into your face, “yeah, i’m sure you and conrad were just about worried sick huh.”

it took quite a lot of effort on your part not to roll your eyes. what was with this boy. had the kiss not been enough? did he really think, after all this time, conrad stood a chance?

“you’re such an idiot sometimes jere,” you said, regretting it as his chest shuddered under a heavy breath.

he laughed and looked away. his eyes were bright in the dwindling sun, his jaw harsh as he fought to control himself. slight smudges under his eyes, extra tangled curls, slightly red eyes. now that you were up close, jere looked a mess. heart hurting you reached for him, wanting to smooth back the stray hair falling over his cheekbones. to smooth over this, over him, to let him know everything was alright. he caught your hand. even this, even his firm grasp on your skin, had your body lighting up. awakening in a way it only would for jere.

“you sure know how to make it hurt. why can’t you just fuck off and we can pretend this never happened, okay?” he hissed, but you knew jere. the way he blinked more and the way his voice changed. “just- just please go home. it hurts me to look at you right now. it hurts.”

his voice broke and he dropped your hand. you couldn’t stand the look on his face. you didn’t let him turn away from you though. this was your boy, the boy you’d been in love with every day for a year. and you wouldn’t have him thinking otherwise.

your pulse raced as you said, “it’s you, jere. it’s you and it’s always been you. not conrad. and it would hurt me if you thought anything otherwise.”

he flinched at your words but there was something in his face that changed. something small, something that took you having to know how he breathed to notice. hope.

“jere, look at me. look at me,” you said. and he did, his eyes wide and blue. the same eyes you dreamed of.

“i love you. i love you, jere.”

you folded the words onto his lips as you kissed him. wrapped them in sugar and pressed them onto his mouth, begging him to understand. to see what had been obvious every night you’d called him, every time you’d hugged him, every time you’d smiled at his dimples.

“i love you.”

and then you couldn’t say anything else because he was cupping your jaw, tilting your face and running his tongue over your teeth. panting as he consumed your gasps. pulled the air from you.

jere shuffled you back until the cool press of your car met your hips. under him and the way he kissed at your neck, you had no notion of what surrounded you. no idea of anything except the heat of his tongue against your throat. your ear. your lips.

“up,” he mumbled. that was all the warning he gave before lifting you onto the hood of your car. the metal was cold beneath you but his hands were burning as they circled your thighs, coaxing your legs apart until he could press himself against you.

he was so big in front of you. the wide span of his shoulders, the strong shape of his hands. he was kissing like he’d hurt if he didn't. you felt feverish, you felt elated. jere broke away enough to rest his forehead on yours, chest rising and catching.

“need you,” he said. his voice was tight.

“what?”

“said i need you.”

“here?”

you were incredulous at first, but jere didn't even bother to look embarrassed. his gaze was level with yours and you had to blush and look away.

“we could- i mean, we’ve got my car…”

he grinned as he pulled you down, and the giggle came before you can stop it. around the vehicle and into the back seats you were both trying to stop from laughing. it was such an encapsulation of being a teenager. of sneaking around and driving each other crazy and being in love. the feeling had you collapsing onto his lap as he pulled the door closed, huffing onto the tan skin of his neck.

“this is so stupid,” you said. the grin jere gave leaves you breathless. your fingers pressed over his smile, tracing the red line of his mouth. the car was warm and dark and protected.

“you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this,” he said, “waited for you.”

you wanted to laugh again but his hands were pulling up your shirt. goosebumps followed the path of his thumb over your bra, under your bra; when he put his mouth on you you moaned. in this little space you’d made the sound was a feeling and jere grinded into you at its touch. focused as he toyed with you, painting your chest red and purple with his lips.

baby, baby, you were saying as strong hands held you close. even as you tried to pull away–push closer?–from the intensity of his kisses. of having his curly hair fall against your chest and stomach. of his eyelashes brushing over your collarbone. you molded your palm to the thick muscle of his shoulder, watching it shake as he took his time drawing you out.

“please, jere.”

he knew what you meant. off comes his shirt, crumpled on the ground beneath the drivers seat. outside the sun had set. gulls still called from offshore, quiet on the other side of the car’s window.

neither of you bothered getting fully undressed. after struggling with both your pants, he tugged down his boxers enough and helped your trembling fingers pull aside your own underwear. he was whispering you’re sure? even as you raised up on both knees, murmuring in your ear until you had him notched inside you.

except for your stuttering breaths, it went silent in the car. jere’s hands were at your back, gently gathering your hair into a loose ponytail. he was shaking too then.

it almost doesn’t seem real–that moment. the press of warm, bare skin. that just days ago you were best friends, and hours ago you weren’t sure you’d have a relationship at all. and now you were here on top of him, having sex in your car at the beach. you wanted to laugh again, but you were seeing white as jere filled you.

you couldn't keep your head up. you were dizzy as you fell forward into his warm chest, taken over by the stretch of him, the perfect fit. he found his breath again, enough to murmur that you were taking him so well. that you felt so good.

“jere,” you said as his hands found your hips. nodding, kissing the top of your head, he guided you forward and then back, transfixed as he watched where you two fit together.

it was a tight fit in the car. you had to bend over him so as not to hit your head, and jere’s long legs pressed against the back of the front seat. you don’t care much though, not when you could grind down and watch him tense up, muscles in his neck tight. it should have be criminal to look that pretty. his hair, slightly damp from fucking, curled tighter around his temples. his eyelashes were long over his cheek bones as he tilted his head back, eyes closed. leaning down to lick his adam’s apple you listened to him groan.

“can’t believe ive been missing out on this,” he said. his voice was breathy and quiet and warm on your face and you drew even with him. you wanted to arch into his hands, to bend yourself around him until every piece of your skin was held by his. you felt crazy.

talking to him like this, when he was still inside you, when you were riding him, made you clench. already you were aching for it. jere knew it too. he was watching you, watching the movement of your body and your face like it was a special act just for him. like you were beautiful.

“jere,” you said. it was just about the only word you can remember.

he shifted beneath you, one hand coming to map the side of your ribs, the other between your legs. the rhythm changed as he began to meet you with his hips, and every breath became hinged on a moan. the way he thumbed over your clit, the way he mouthed at your tits. control was slipping away from you. fast.

the new angle was almost too much, and as jere buried deep you gasped. your body was liquid and you almost tipped backwards, grabbing at his shoulders. like a man possessed, jere didn’t even pause. his large hand gripped the front headrest above you as he laid you down over the armrest between the front two seats.

lying prone and naked half in the front of your car, you realized something quite quickly. your back windows were tinted. the front ones most definitely were not.

“someone could see, jere!” you said, attempting to lift yourself up. most beach-goers had cleared out after the sunset, but faintly you could still hear the sound of people playing in the surf. jere’s tan hand on your chest stopped you.

“we’d better be quick then.”

before you had time to try reasoning, jere was pushing back into you. unable to argue, unable to say anything, you found his hand and laced your fingers together. it was all you could cling to as he fucked into you, as the heat of his body spread over you. it was warm and close and dark and when you finished, together, he stopped breathing. just for a second. then, while your mind was still hazy he pulled you back onto his lap and kissed you. hard.

holding you there, safe in his arms. at some point he found his sweater and pulled it over your head. warm against his chest, body and legs aching. he whined when you clenched, absently, around him. still pressed inside you. it’s funny so you giggled and he groaned again and threw his arm over his face.

“don’t do that,” he grit out.

“why not?”

you were teasing. his eyes found you, tongue already in cheek. you couldn't look away from his red mouth.

“because i’ll get hard again.”

it amazed you how ready you were at the possibility. your spine already straightening. you don’t think you’ll ever stop wanting him.

but, faintly, you heard your phone ring. it was beneath a pile of clothes and it was on the last ring when you finally managed to snag it.

“hello?” you said. jere watched you lazily, still smiling.

“hey, uh where are you?”

you pulled the phone from your ear. the caller id read conrad. shit. pizzas. you’d gotten a bit… distracted. jere caught the name too and though his expression faded slightly, his gaze remained on yours. you smiled at him and couldn't help but kiss him. quickly.

“yeah sorry about that conrad. listen, bad news is the pizza might be a bit cold,” you could hear groans from the other end of the line, “but uh. good news is i’ve found jere.”

you didn't bother to listen to the response, instead you leaned up to the boy you loved. kissed over his cheek and his dumb grin.

“i found my jere.”

#jeremiah fischer #team jeremiah #jeremiah x reader #jeremiah smut #jeremiah fic #jeremiah x you #bigkeepup

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chickenparm · 1 year ago

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Wriothesley Master List

Thanks @drawlypsy for letting me use your art as a header for this!

If you like my writing, consider checking out my ko-fi page to leave a tip.

Here is a link to my AO3 where I will occasionally cross-post fics from here. All Multi-Parts will be posted there.

—

Multi-Part

live reaction (Wriothesley/f!Reader) - Explicit COMPLETE (voyeurism, mutual masturbation, mild pining, dirty talk, pet names used: good girl, praise kink, consensual all the way through) (continuation of livestream with gendered reader)

There, just above your bed, a blinking light of red - and then it shifts to teal. And it moves, just enough to show that it has pivoted on its anchor point. It’s watching you.

One-Shots

Thorough (Wriothesley/f!Reader) - Explicit (mild consensual non-con, handjob, handcuffs, use of anal plug, power dynamics, fingering, cavity search, pre-established relationship, i wasn't kidding it's in a graveyard)

It’s darker here, the moon at just the right angle to cast everything in shadow. It calms you a little, lets you slow down and take a deeper breath, another shudder as your lungs fill with cold air. God, why couldn’t you have committed a felony in the summertime?

Nothing New Under the Sun (Wriothesley/gn!Reader) - Non-Explicit (Awkward dates, pining, fluff)

He’d looked at you from behind the rim of his teacup, the smallest crease at the corner of his eye to betray his little smile, and he agreed. Honestly, you hadn’t thought you’d even get this far.

livestream (Wriothesley/gn!Reader) - Explicit (voyeurism, m!masturbation)

Maybe this could be good if you learn his schedule, figure out when he comes and goes so you can sneak an unabashed peek without getting caught by him. Then you can be as shameless as you like if you happen to stare for more than a full minute without blinking.

Doctor's Note (Wriothesley/f!Reader) - Explicit (Mild blood kink, P in V, semi-public in that someone could walk on in, Reader's a bit of a freak)

But something feels tense in the air, and your fingers slip from his chin as you try to diffuse it with, “I think I’ll need Sigewinne for this one, it looks bad. She’ll mix up some medicine for you to down-” “Leave me to die.”

Warm Enough (Wriothesley/gn!Reader) - Explicit (Cockwarming, desk sex, a little bit of dirty talk, pre-established relationship)

When you smiled at him disarmingly and asked if he’d like something to warm him up, he agreed offhandedly without a second thought.

Drabbles/Misc

NONE

#wriothesley #genshin impact #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley/reader #x reader #masterlist #master list

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nymphoheretic · 2 years ago

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Synopsis: What if Kyoujuro took Akaza's offer and became a demon? He trades his mortality for the immortality of demon. But for some reason, he can't get your sweet scent out of his head. It calls him like a moth to a flame. So, much that Akaza has to bring you along.

Warnings: Black coded!Reader, slight nocon(but they back off), Dubcon, Corruption, Clawing, choking, biting/marking, spitting, knotting, oral (recieving and giving), blood play, darcyphilia, somnophilia, bondage, collaring, usage of the nickname "Pet" from Akaza, pet play Master/slave, slut calling, humiliation, exhibitionism, dumbification, nipple play, sadism, double penetration, anal, spitroast, claiming, praise, degradation, and just overall roughness(mostly from Akaza). Let me know I missed anything!

Word count: 4.4k

Pairing: Demon!Rengoku x Slayer!fem!reader x Akaza

Tags: @awilddreamermain @babiefwuit @noriken @sailewhoremoon @getogasm @stygianoir@monaukah @bakugosbratx @cherryblossomsenpai @hvziers @suyacho @saetoshis @tokyometronetwork @potofstewie @sulli1361 @e-b-e

A/N: The art in the header is a paid commission by me! Done by the amazing Nightly_uwus on Insta!

You watched in horror as Akaza’s nails grew into sharp claws as You heard Kyoujuro silently and brokenly accepted the demon’s offer. He did not want to die so young. He had so much to live for. Even at the cost of his memories, Kyoujuro wanted to live.

You were glad that you had sent Tanjiro and Inosuke away to help the train members after you had patched the young demon slayer up. You watched as Akaza grinned as he eased his nail into the center of Kyoujuro’s forehead and began to slowly pump his blood into his body.

“Kyou...” You whispered out as tears formed in your eyes as his body began to convulse as the change started. His skin lightened from tan to an almost pale white tone, his once beautiful golden-vermillion eyes darkened until the sclera were pitch black and the gold of his irises nearly swallowed the red.

Short red horns sprung out his forehead and you could fairly see red lines circle his wrists as red claw-like marks appeared on his face. His hair also grew longer and the red streaks spread more throughout the blond locks.

He was still a very beautiful being. Actually even more so as a demon possibly. You could feel your heart racing in your chest. You still loved him. You loved him even if he chose to forget about all your happiest memories, memories of his mother and his brother, to forget about you. But even then, you still loved him. You froze when his turned those eyes on you, his nostrils flaring. You held your sword closer to your chest, prepared to attack if necessary.

“How do you feel, Kyoujuro?” Akaza asked. The change in his new demon was only temporary. He’d need to take him to Muzan for his true form to be revealed. He grinned when Kyoujuro looked up at him with his newly changed eyes, but frowned at the confusion swimming in them. “What?” He asked before turning his head in the direction of the woman sitting teary eyed on the ground, your nichirin blade held close to your chest.

Kyoujuro scented the air again, that inoxicatingly sweet smell making his mind even more fuzzy than what it already was. It was coming from you. Why did you smell so familiar? Why did you make his heart beat so fast within his chest? Why did he want to do nothing but fill you again and again with his cock until you were a sobbing mess? “Akaza...Bring me the woman.” His voice held an air of power even if his transformation was not complete yet and it sent shivers down even Akaza’s spine.

Akaza looked taken aback. Kyoujuro was supposed to be his. He should have forgotten about his past life! He turned angry golden eyes on you but then shifted to the lightening sky behind you. ‘Shit! The sun!’ “Kyoujuro, we have to get out of here!” He grabbed Kyojuro by the wrist and tried to pull him into the shadows of the trees.

He looked over at you, a growl bubbling in his chest. “I’m not leaving without her.” Kyoujuro may still be a bit frail from the transformation, but he was not leaving without you. He needed to know why he felt so drawn to you.

Gritting his teeth, Akaza quickly ran over to you, your eyes wide as the pink-haired demon snarled down at you. “I don't know why you’re still so familiar with Kyoujuro, but he won’t leave without you.” He grabbed your sword from your hands, smacked you across the face with it to knock you out and tossed it aside before picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder. “Kyoujuro, let’s go now.”

Satisfied that he had gotten his way, he stared at the lightening sky for the last time, knowing deep down that this would be the last time he would be able to witness the sun rising over the horizon. He grit his teeth when Akaza yelled at him, he was still getting used to his new body. Flexing the muscles in his legs, he bent down to take off after Akaza when a vaguely familiar voice called out to him.

“Rengoku-san?”

He shifted his eyes over his shoulder to see a young demon slayer. He noted the hurt expression on his face. It seemed this child knew him when Kyoujuro was a human. He flashed the boy a fanged smile before the heat from the sun warmed his flesh and he made a beeline for the shadows of the forest. He needed to find a hideaway from the sun and then he would question you. He wanted to know why your scent was still so familiar to him. Why everytime he looked at you, he wanted to fuck you stupid, to fill your tiny body with his seed, to have you in his arms. Kyoujuro would have his answers soon.

Kyoujuro followed Akaza’s scent deep into the woods until he found the pink-haired demon holed up in an abandoned shack, the windows already boarded up. He scanned the small enclosure for the you and spotted you crumpled up on the floor in the middle of the building.

He rolled his eyes at Akaza's little pout as he was glaring at you. Kyoujuro walked over to where you were and the scent of your blood hit him strongly. It both made his mouth water and his cock rock hard. Why? Why did you make him both want to rip you apart with his claws and fangs, to devour you, but also to pick you up and slam you up and down on his dick until you were sobbing with pleasure.

Akaza watched as Kyoujuro stared down at the woman. The longer he looked at you, the more angry and frustrated he became. Kyoujuro was supposed to be his eternal fighting partner. He should have forgotten about everything. Even a past lover. So, what made this... “Pet so damn special.” Yes, the name “pet” would suit you well. You were merely a toy for Kyoujuro that he will eventually tire of and eat. It was only a matter of time before he had Kyoujuro all to himself. “The little pet won’t last long. I will give her until tonight.”

The blond demon took a step towards the woman, your scent starting to drive him crazy with a hunger he did not understand. He was a demon now and humans were his food. And to make things even worse, you were a demon slayer, his newly sworn enemy.

Was it because Akaza was the one who turned him? He was the Upper Moon 3, his blood should have been almost as potent as Lord Muzan’s himself. But...Kyoujuro had to know. He needed to sate this ache in his chest.

He moved over to your unconscious body, the throbbing in his chest increasing the closer he got. Your scent was intoxicating, mouthwatering even as he saw the line of blood that rolled down the side of your face.

“Kyoujuro...” Akaza said, his eyes narrowing slightly. What was he going to do? While Akaza, himself, did not eat women, he would not put it against the blond if his first meal happened to a female of his past. Maybe if Kyoujuro ate your, it would break this connection they seemed to have. “Eat her, Kyoujuro.” he said simply, his tone dull. “Eat her and be free of this burden she holds over you. That way we can finally fight for all eternity.”

Kyoujuro drowned at Akaza’s voice as he reached the woman and dropped to his knees. He scooped your limp body into his arms, your scent nearly making him feel drunk. You were pretty, no, you were beautiful. Too beautiful for him to even be holding. But, he needed a taste, just to see why your scent was so addicting.

His tongue slipped out and licked at the line of blood that clung to your cheek and a low moan rumbled in his chest. Not only were you beautiful and your scent called to him, your blood was just as sweet and intoxicating. Kyoujuro had to have you. He leaned down and caught your lips with his, his tongue sliding past your pliable mouth to tangle with yours.

The pink haired demon’s eyes narrowed even further as he watched his newly spawned creation lay you back down on the ground before he hovered over you. “What are you-” He stopped and blinked in confusion at what he was watching. Kyoujuro was kissing the human! “What the hell, Kyoujuro? I said to eat her, not kiss her!” he snarled, golden eyes flashing dangerously.

Was he really losing control over his creation? How would Lord Muzan react if he brought not only a human, but a member of the demon slayer corps back to the Infinity Castle with him. Sure, he may get praised for turning a Hashira, but you would never be allowed. “Get rid of her, now! Or I will.” The threat was empty, Akaza would never kill or eat a woman, but Kyoujuro did not know that.

A deep growl emitted from Kyoujuro as he glared at Akaza with burning eyes. He was not going to let the older demon take away something that so obviously belonged to him. Kyoujuro bared his fangs at the pink haired demon in warning, “You try to kill her and I will end your existence, Akaza.” He hand went to the nichirin blade that was still looped through his belt. He held the unconscious woman closer to his chest and sent Akaza another warning growl.

Akaza looked at Kyoujuro and sighed, shrugging his shoulders. It would seem that he would have to change tactics. Raising his hands in surrender, he took another look at you in Kyoujuro’s arms. You were fairly attractive and had a decent body. Maybe you would become a demon too?

No, he remembered the hurt and betrayed look on your face when the blond had admitted defeat and agreed to be a demon. “Okay.” he said as he walked closer to the couple, his eyes remained locked with Kyoujuro’s. “I don’t kill or eat women anyway.” He knelt down next to you on the opposite side of Kyoujuro. “Since you obviously have such an attachment to her and I am the one who created you, it’s only fair that we share her, Kyoujuro.”

Kyoujuro looked at Akaza with barely concealed disdain. What he was saying did make sense. The pink-haired demon did give him his blood to make him an immortal demon, but was he willing to share this woman with him?

Looking down at her, something in his mind wanted to refuse Akaza’s offer, but there was something telling him that she would be protected if he agreed. With a solemn nod, Kyoujuro said, “It is only fair.” He relaxed his shoulders and allowed Akaza to get a better look at the unconscious woman. “Do you know why I feel this way towards her? Who is she and why does her scent call to me?”

Fangs grit tightly as Akaza struggled to think of an answer. He did not know why you managed to be remembered by Kyoujuro’s body. What made you so fucking special. You appeared to be an ordinary human, a normal Demon slayer. You were not even that strong. While Kyoujuro was a Hashira, you could not be any stronger than a Tsuchinoto at best.

But, Kyoujuro was his creation now and should listen to whatever he says as long as it was not about killing you apparently. “Apparently she’s someone you knew before you became a Demon and for some reason you can’t forget her completely.” He sat back on his heels and rubbed his chin. Now that he was closer to you and not in a panic running from the sun, your scent was rather delectable. Akaza froze, your scent made his cock rock hard for some reason and he wanted you too.

The blond saw the way the pink-haired demon’s nostrils flared and how he froze. “You smell it too? It’s her scent. I don’t know either but it makes me want her even more, but not only that having her body in my arms also feels so familiar. And when I kissed her earlier, I thought I felt an even deeper connection with her. You said I knew her when I was human. Was she my lover?” He asked as he gazed down at you, his words sounding strained as he fought the urge to strip you of your clothing and fuck you awake.

“Yes.” Akaza replied reluctantly. He remembered how Kyoujuro told you to stay back and that he would not allow his beloved to get involved with such a dangerous fight at your current level. “But it is possible that once you’ve received blood from Lord Muzan that all memories of her will disappear.”

Kyoujuro tightened his grip on her. “And if I don’t want to forget her. I do want Lord Muzan’s blood to complete my transformation, but this woman calls to me and I want her.”

A frustrated growl left the older demon. There was no negotiation with Kyoujuro. His mind was made up. He wanted to keep you. “Fine. We can keep the pet.” Even if his tone was annoyed, there was a part of him that wanted the woman too. Her scent was starting to become addictive and his mouth watered. “Kyoujuro, since we’re keeping her. We may as well take her for a test drive.”

He smiled as he moved closer to the unconscious woman, touching the riverlette of blood that was slowly trickling down the side of your face. Akaza may never actually consume a woman, but your blood was calling to him and he had to have taste. He brought his two fingers that were coated in the sticky red fluid and brought it to lips mouth. Electricity went down his spine and straight to his cock when the flavor of your blood struck his tongue.

“It’s like her blood is an aphrodisiac.” Kyoujuro said, running the tip of his tongue over the path the blood was beginning to take again until it reached the source at the small wound above your eye. He lapped at it as his saliva began to act as a clotting agent and sealed the wound. “It makes me wonder if other parts of her are just as sweet and addictive.” He then trailed his tongue from the wound back down the side of your face to your neck until he reached the collar of your black uniform.

Akaza’s claws were already making quick work of the duttons that held your top together as he leaned forward to catch your lips with his. He pushed his tongue past your lips and curled it around yours. Even your lips were addictive and he wanted more.

His fingers parted your top and began exploring the uncovered flesh, claws shredding the bandages you used to bind your breasts. He felt you shift slightly, your breathing quickened and he smirked. Just how would you, their little pet, react to being ravished by two demons; becoming their toy.

Kyoujuro crawls down her body, letting Akaza have the top half of you as he takes the bottom. He needed to know if other parts of you were just as sweet. He could sense that you would be waking up soon, but he couldn't bring himself to care. You belonged to him.

He flattened his tongue as he left a wet trail over your belly, your skin sweet and addictive. Kyoujuro felt as if he tasted you before, but he couldn’t remember all he knew was that your skin was soft and supple under his tongue and he wanted more. His hands gripped her thighs before sliding up the skirt she wore. His clawed fingertips ghosted over the thin panties that covered your cunt and he used one to cut through the material.

Fingers gripped and groped at the exposed flesh of her chest as Akaza kissed your soft lips. He wanted to see the look in your eyes when you woke up with one demon fondling your breasts and the other between your legs. He tugged at your bottom lip with his fangs, being careful to not cut you and wake you with the pain.

Akaza wanted a genuine reaction from you as you slowly came to realize what was happening to you. His fingers pinched at your nipple, twisting it lightly as he rolled it. He slid his tongue back inside your mouth and pulled yours inside his mouth which he quickly sucked on. You tasted so damn good; he could not wait for his turn to taste you.

Kyoujuro's tongue found its way to your leg, licking your calf muscle down to your inner thigh. It was like his body remembered every touch that would drive you mad with pleasure as your own small body shivered and a small, muffled sounding moan vibrated in your chest.

That sound was like music to his ears and he wanted to draw more from you. Kyoujuro moved close to your pussy, the sweet scent coming from it drawing him like a moth to a flame. He brushed his nose against your clit, feeling you shiver even more intensely, your legs trembling in his hands. Kyoujuro moved to latch his mouth on that sweet spot that was so tantalizing to him.

You squirmed when a familiar feeling filled your body. Why were you feeling this way? you should only feel like this when you're with Kyoujuro, but he became a demon. You mewed softly at the feeling of a warm tongue lapping at your cunt. It was very similar to how Kyoujuro would do it. Each wet swipe felt better than the last. Another moan vibrated in your chest and you began to wonder what was this foreign pressure on your lips and touch on your chest.

Your hands moved to grab at the head that was between your thighs as I moaned into the mouth covering me. The darkness that was clouding your mind was slowly dissipating. “Oh, Kyou~” you whined when the lips moved from yours to your chest. your body reacted like it always did and you felt the familiar knot of heat flare in your lower belly.

Akaza curled his tongue around one of your hardened nipples and tugged on the other with his other hand. He could sense that you were on the verge of waking up, if the increasing sounds of your moans were any indicator. He stole a glance up at your face and smiled at the twisted look of confused pleasure that furled your brow.

Your soft whimpers were starting to sound like music to his ears, but he wanted to make you cry. Make you cry from the sheer pain and pleasure that only a demon could give you. He wanted to bite you and leave marks all over this supple skin. “Wake up, pet. Then the real fun can begin.”

Kyoujuro wrapped his lips around that tiny sensitive bit of flesh and sucked on it while flicking his tongue over it. He knew you were close, he just had this feeling. Your fingers were tangled in his red-streaked blond hair, tugging and pushing at the same time.

He then retracted the claws of his middle and ring fingers before slowly easing them inside that tight little hole. Kyoujuro needed to taste you. You were already so sweet on his tongue, but he knew there was something even more delicious.

His fingers rubbed against a patch of rigged flesh as he tongue swiped aggressively over your clit. Your hands began tugging and pushing at his head more as your moans became even louder.

That knot in your belly tightened even more, heat spreading down your body and gathering in your belly. You was so close, but who was doing this? Kyoujuro was no longer a part of your life. He left with the Upper Moon 3. You tried to make the darkness fade more quickly as you struggled to open your eyes.

But then the knot came undone and your back arched, lifting off whatever you were lying on as your orgasm shook through your body. Your fingers pulled at the head between your thighs and whoever it was let out a growl that vibrated through your clit. Shivers went down your body as the foreign touch at your chest became even more persistent, tugging and squeezing at your nipples roughly.

Who else could be here? You forced the darkness away as you slowly opened your eyes.

The first thing you saw was the head nestled between your thighs, the wet tongue still lapping up your juices. Your pussy was still tingling from the intense orgasm but it did not seem like whoever it was was going to stop.

You tried to tug at their hair once more but someone grabbed your wrists and pinned them over your head. You looked up and stared into Akaza’s gold eyes. A gasp left me. “What are you doing?” You tried to thrash in his hold, but a strong arm wrapped around your waist, holding your hips down. “Huh? What’s...” Looking down, you finally took in the red-streaked blond hair that you knew so well. “K-Kyou?”

Akaza grinned now that you was awake. He could now have as much fun as he wanted now. “Hush, pet. Let Kyoujuro finish his meal.” His claws shortened to a neat trim as he pressed them against your lips. “Why don’t I give you something to preoccupy that mouth of yours.” He grinned when it looked like you were going to defy him, but another breathy moan made her lips part and his fingers slid inside your warm, wet mouth. “That’s a good little pet. I’ll train you well.” He leaned in and nipped at your neck before soothing he bite with his tongue.

Kyoujuro swallowed every last drop you had to offer from your quivering hole. You were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. Her flavor is so familiar to him. “Fuck...my sweet little Fireball.” he murmuer into your folds.

The name rolled off his tongue so easily. Like that was what he had always called you. Kyoujuro moved his tongue away from your weeping slit, to circle your clit again, feeling your thighs tremble around his head. One arm was locked over your hips to keep them in place.

Kyoujuro released you and looked up at your face and saw the fear in your eyes and immediately jumped away. “What?” He grabbed his head as an intense throbbing pounded at the front of his head.

“Shit.” the pink-haired demon cursed as he pulled away from you to help his new creation. Akaza thought that this would be a bad idea. You were too closely linked with Kyoujuro’s memories as a human. He glanced at the door and saw that the sunlight still filtered through the bottom of the door. “Don’t you move. I have to go help Kyoujuro. Looks like he’ll need more blood.” He grabbed your face, glaring into your eyes and daring you to defile him.

You nodded your head as you grabbed the open ends of your jacket and held them closed. You watched as Akaza approached Kyoujuro, who was still growling in pain, his eyes flickering from white and black as he held his head.

Was he not a full demon yet? Maybe you could still save him. Save the love of your life. Your body still remembered his gentle touches even if he was supposed to be your enemy. You could not deny your heart still saw him as the man you fell so deeply in love with.

You touched your lips, you could still feel and taste Akaza’s fingers in your mouth. Kyoujuro was never that rough with me...

Shaking your head, you tried to rid yourself of those lustful thoughts. Why were you having such thoughts about your sworn enemy?! That demon took the love of your life from me! But a voice in the back of your head told you that you actually enjoyed having this newly demonized Kyoujuro between your thighs as Akaza had his fingers in your mouth.

Your mind slowly traveled to thoughts of being sandwiched between them, feeling their hands on your body, their cocks deep within you. You slapped yourself hard as you came back to your senses. You watched as Akaza knelt down by Kyoujuro, his nails lengthening. Your heart twisted in your chest as you forced yourself to look away.

Akaza pushed his finger deeper into Kyoujruo’s chest, giving him more blood. He watched as the small horns grew in length and darkened in color, the red of his irises turning into slits as the gold took over. Red flame-like markings appeared on the young demon’s face as Akaza pulled away and licked his finger as the wound healed. “Better, Kyoujuro?”

Kyoujuro slowly put his hands down away from his head, the throbbing pain easing away now that he had more blood. “Yes,” he looked over at you, your sweet scent still in the air; even more so now that he had brought you to an orgasm. He could still taste your essence on his tongue. “But, I should probably not touch her until I can find a way to make her see that I am not to be feared.”

Golden eyes rolled as the pink-haired demons placed his hands on his hips. “Or maybe we get rid of her before we return to Lord Muzan.” He backed away from Kyoujuro when flames suddenly surrounded the young demon as angry glowing eyes locked on his form.

How was Kyoujuro this strong as a fledgling demon? His power was almost on par with an Upper Moon. A smile crossed the older demon’s lips. He truly did find the best fighting partner.

He held his hands up in surrender as he backed away slowly. “I didn't mean kill her.” he said, noting the stubborn look in Kyoujuro’s eyes even as the flames dissipated. “But if you insist on keeping our little pet. She’ll need a collar.”

“I’m sorry?! A what?!”

©️2022 nymphoheretic - I do not give permission to copy, edit, alter, or distribute my work. Do not adverse on tiktok. Do not repost on any other platform.

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dat-town · 1 year ago

Text

the things we lose in fire

Characters: Sunwoo & female reader

Setting & genre: fantasy, Alchemy of Souls au, not your typical enemies to lovers au

Summary: About a girl who slowly lowers her guards around a boy who is destined to be her enemy.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, folklore monsters, blood, burn marks, arson (the bermuda triangle is pretty much the mean girls of jeongjinrak and i may have enjoyed that too much)

Words: 13.6k

Author’s note: there are lots of references to the original kdrama but i think it can be read without seeing the show. there are spoilers about the season 2 ending though because the main characters are the next generation, relatives of the original characters

happy name day @lily-blue, i'm glad we can still fangirl over any piece of media just like we used to <3

the photo for the header is by sunset lover

Even with your eyes closed, you could feel the shift of energy behind you.

Blinking, you turned around just in time to raise your sword in front of your body in defense, to fend off the huge blow coming your way. You snickered as your feet slid backwards on the wooden floor from the strength of it and looked at your opponent with furrowed eyebrows.

Jaehyun looked awfully pleased with himself that he managed to surprise you. As if his ego wasn’t big enough already, he had mastered Chisu recently, an ability only a few of your age owned, and he liked to show it off. Too bad for him, you had your own tricks up your sleeves. So you just smirked back at him and before he could have started his next attack on you with his double swords slicing the air, you lunged forward with precise and sharp movements, forcing him to switch to defense and back away. You could hear the hollers around you but you paid them no mind as you tried to make a hit that could have been lethal if you used your real weapons instead of the practice ones Jeongjinrak let you.

You could tell that the boy started to get annoyed and him losing focus on his movements as he let his emotions take over played right into your hands. You felt the exact moment when he wanted to break out of the defense mode and you managed to swirl out of his sword's way easily then making your way behind him, you held your sword at the side of his neck threateningly.

“I win,” you exclaimed watching with a triumphant smile as the boy lowered his weapons.

The other students around you whooped and clapped, gathering around you, patting you on the back, congratulating, while Jaehyun had his own share of friends who consoled him after his defeat, telling him not to take it to his heart, to not care about her, you know how she is. But of course, the infamous Seo Yul’s nephew couldn’t let it go just like that.

“It’s not fair, you know. You have an advantage with those priestess abilities of yours,” he pointed out, panting, bitter, and you scoffed. It wasn’t the first time you heard that. Others liked to say that if it hadn’t been for your parents they would have beat you in a fair fight. You found their reasoning ridiculous. Nothing out there in the real world with its dangers was about fairness. Would they have whined like this when they faced an enemy stronger than them too? It wasn’t like you just sat around and you were this good. You had to learn how to control your family’s power just as much as you had to master Ryusu to unsheathe your sword like any other pupils of this institute for mages. Your mother had stayed up with you when your fever kept you up after the first signs of your power and your father had taken you to the mountains to practice every summer. Both of them had faced their own hardships and struggles with their powers, they both understood the envy you had gotten for the abilities you had been born with. Not that it helped when you were in a room full of boys with raging testosterone, wanting nothing more than to prove their manliness by defeating you. A girl on top of everything.

“Excuses. Tell that to yourself if it helps you sleep at night,” you rolled your eyes at Jaehyun and shrugged after you slid your sword back into its scabbard. “It’s not like I can switch it off.”

He was just hurt that his pride was wounded with another lost sparring against you. He took great pride in being from the big Seo family, associated with the royal family after all and being the nephew of Jeongjinrak’s leader he had all hopes laid out there for him. But even with his Chisu, he wasn’t as good as you. You didn’t even have to extinguish all the lights in the chamber like you had done with Juyeon last time.

“That last move was so good! You have to teach me that sometime,” Changmin threw an arm over your shoulder and you flashed him a grateful smile. Having a friend like him surely had its perks.

You asked him what he wanted to eat for lunch, eager to fill your stomach after the exercise but before the boy could tell you all about the honey biscuits he craved, the ones your mom always sent you, there was a commotion by the door that attracted everybody’s attention. Hyungseo basically fell through the door when it opened.

“You won’t believe what just happened! Haknyeon just saw the new mage pupil with Master Seo,” he said in a too serious tone for such a simple statement.

“And?” Chanhee asked with disinterest lacing his words, clearly above caring about such boring matters. The bearer of news looked around, waiting a long beat before blurting out what was followed by a stunned silence:

“It’s Kim Sunwoo.”

Everybody had heard of Kim Sunwoo.

He had almost as many gossips about his birth as you did. Why? Because your fates were connected. It was written in the stars.

Everybody had a plaque of constellations from the time they were born, it was kept in the royal observatory, Cheonbugwan. Your maternal grandfather had worked there and even though he had been long gone before you were born, you had always thought of him when you entered the place, imagining him hovering above the black plaques splattered with white spots.

You were six when your mother had first taken you there. She wasn't supposed to but King Gowon had a soft spot towards your parents – saying he shared a turtle with them had been an ongoing joke that you never understood –, so he allowed the exception. Your parents had suffered a lot due to your father's constellation after all.

You had heard their story over and over: Jang Uk, only son of the Jang family, had been born under the King's Star in the sky, destined for majestic things. Almost everybody who knew about it had been killed just to keep it as a secret, to not let anybody know that Jang Uk was actually the son of the belated king who practiced the dark magic called alchemy of souls to switch bodies with Jang Gang gwanju. Your mother's father, Cho Chung was a constellation recorder mage at the time, one of the unfortunate ones who had to die, taking your entire maternal family with him, so the king at the time could rule. Your mother had been taken in by a man who had trained her into a deadly assassin. Naksu had spread fear while she wanted to get revenge but she ended up switching souls – or more like sharing souls – with a girl who was unbeknownst to her the lost daughter of the Jin family, a powerful priestess. Your father had fallen in love with her as an assassin and as a priestess too and that's how you had been born as the daughter of the two most powerful people of Daeho who had gone against every odd to be together.

Of course, it was only the version you and the family knew. Everybody else could only see that Jang Uk, the most powerful mage they had seen, the always rebel, had gone against Jinyowon’s strict leader and married her confined eldest daughter with whom they had saved Daeho.

With parents like that, you were expected of a lot. Especially after being born under the Morningstar which, as your mother explained, was a sign that you were destined to bring light into darkness. There were whispers about your fate all around Daeho.

Just as much as about Kim Sunwoo’s.

His life was irrevocably intertwined with yours since he was said to have been born with the energy of the Firebird that your parents had killed.

You and Changmin were out to visit the iron master of the town for the new throwing stars Jeongjinrak ordered. Some, like that prick Jaehyun, would have thought that it was beneath you to do such things but you actually liked to do errands like this. Things might not have been as strict as they had been in your parents' time, not even allowing for family visits unless it was an urgent situation, but the training center of Songrim still felt stuffy sometimes. You liked to visit the lively market or play stone skipping with your friends whenever you had had enough of the constant sword and mind practice. Master Seo was your parents' friend – as well as Songrim's leader, Park Danggu –, so he made sure to often remind you that you didn't have to push yourself too much, that you should not break under the pressure of expectations but it was hard. Both of your parents had defeated death at least once, how could you just live a normal mage's or priestess' life? You were ought to do grand things.

One day.

Today your biggest problem was how to steal some time to visit Kim ahjussi's chicken soup stall before you had to go back to Jeongjinrak. That was, until a bright voice called your name. You let out a groan. Just what you missed from your day.

"Y/N! Changmin! So nice to see you. Running an errand I see," the boy dressed in silk stated cheerfully.

"Your Highness," your friend greeted the Crown Prince politely when he slipped into your view, successfully halting your steps. Sometimes you truly wondered how his eunuch kept up with him but the loyal servant was behind him like a shadow.

"Youngjae," you sighed, calling him by his first name, a privilege you had because you had played with him since you two had been kids. Your mother had helped the king find a suitable queen after all. However, with the boy following you around like a hyperactive puppy, some people thought he was pursuing you with serious intentions because you marrying into the royal family would have meant adjoining multiple influential families of Daeho. But it was as unlikely as the Sun suddenly rising from the West. Youngjae was like your little brother at most, you couldn’t look at him any other way.

"Any plans on visiting the palace any time soon? It gets boring without company."

"I'm sure you have more than enough people around you," you eyed the poor eunuch who always followed the boy around.

"But that's not the same, they are court servants, they don't have a choice," the prince whined and tried to use his puppy eyes on you.

Before you started your official training, you indeed spent a lot of time on palace grounds with him, especially when your parents were out hunting down whatever creature terrorized the people. They either took you to Jinyowon to stay with your cousins or the palace during those times. That's where you learned sparring from palace guards, ate the most delicious food in seven provinces and decided that you were never ever going to marry into the royal family. You could not stand the hypocrisy and conspiracies. You might have gotten used to the whispers behind your back but the palace was a whole nother level. You would have felt sorry for Youngjae if he experienced the same but he seemed blissfully unaware of his surroundings like the spoiled brat he was.

"We could have a sparring battle! Winner gets to make a wish!" The prince threw in as if it was such a novel idea but you only had to exchange a glance with Changmin to know that he had already had enough of this, too.

"You have lost every single time before. Didn't you have enough?" You sighed but Youngjae just grinned, ever so optimistic.

"It's called determination. Just watch and see, one day I will beat you."

"Good luck with that," you said a bit bitterly, internally adding but that day won't be today as you turned the corner the next time you saw a chance for it. There were many people at the market and many stalls with colorful goods put on display, so you slipped underneath a table, crawling behind the stall and slipped through a crack between two wooden houses, moving farther from the busy streets of the market.

It might not have been nice, slipping away like that but your family was already obligated to attend the equinox ceremony at the palace over the next weekend and you had more important things to care about than chit-chatting with a bored prince.

You looked behind you, checking the crowd just in case Youngjae could keep up with you but you saw no sign of him or Changmin. You hoped your friend could get away too without being dragged into an unnecessary fight with His Highness to save his pride. You were still busy looking over the mass of people when you stumbled as your shoulder hit something firm.

"Sorry," you mumbled on instinct since you were brought up to be polite but a moment later you froze, confused. Sure, you didn't look ahead where you were going while you were watching your back, so anybody could have thought it was natural to bump into somebody on your way but you usually didn't make mistakes like that. With your inherited power to sense energy, you could usually tell if you were near somebody. But this time, something was off. You couldn't have named what was different but something was unique about this person's energy and it didn't feel right. You turned your gaze up at the stranger but half of his face was covered with a scarf and he wore a hood over his head. You could only catch a glimpse of his dark eyes, crimson locks and sharp gaze before he continued his way, his long sword draped across his back like a warning.

You looked after him with furrowed brows, confused but snapped out of your trance when somebody called your name. You straightened your back and looked at Changmin who waved to you from the other side of the road, alone. You smiled back at him mischievously because it seemed so that His Highness had lost another game of his.

Jeongjinrak had already been buzzing with anticipation and rumors about the new arrival but it wasn't until the next afternoon sword practice that Kim Sunwoo arrived.

The lively chatter of the hall died down as soon as Master Seo walked in carrying an authoritative aura around him despite his youthful features. Then the whispering started because the man was followed by a boy wearing the mage trainees' silver-blue uniform, his burgundy locks kept out of his face with a similar headband. He didn't look scary or vengeful like the rumors suggested but there was some kind of searing coldness around him, something unusual about his magic, you could tell, so you didn't take your eyes off him.

"Everyone, this is Kim Sunwoo, the institution's newest student," Seo Yul introduced the newbie calmly, not reprimanding the murmuring crowd for once.

"Can he even wield a sword?"

"Does he really do dark magic?"

"Is he going to practice with us?"

Hushed questions and curious gazes were sent in the boy's direction but he seemed unbothered by it all. He just stood there and stared ahead, hands behind his back. His presence was a bit… underwhelming. The rumors about him claimed he was dangerous and deadly, that he was about to bring destruction like the Firebird whose energy he had been apparently born with. But he looked like just a boy and really, you should have known better than to believe gossip after the telltales about you as well.

"He's going to join the training from now. Welcome him nicely," Master Seo finished his speech and clapped his hands, encouraging the pupils to get into position around the practice dolls. The place wasn't big enough for everybody to have their own, so you usually took turns in groups of 2 or 3 to practice different attacking techniques.

Everybody seemed wary of letting the new boy join their group and he didn't seem keen to ask about it either. You exchanged a glance with Changmin as a silent question and he shrugged with no objection. He was friends with you too despite the rumors about you, so you knew he wasn't judgemental when it came to prophecies. Having a High Priestess as your mother you did believe in fate but you also thought that it was not unchangeable and often these prophecies were vague enough to not know their true meaning until much later.

So you were about to call over for the new boy, telling him to join your group, so you could show him how these kinds of practices worked but before you could have done so, Jaehyun stepped in the way of Kim Sunwoo. With his pride you knew that it was bad news, especially when Juyeon and Younghoon, his equally popular and self-assured friends, followed.

"Is it true that your parents are dead?" Jaehyun asked and you sucked in a breath. Of course, he had to pick bones with the new kid on his first day. He just couldn't sit on his spoiled ass in peace. Typical.

"Why does it matter to you?" Sunwoo spoke up for the first time since he had arrived and his voice was deeper than you expected but just as cold as his appearance. And even though he was talking quietly, in the tense silence of the practice room where barely anybody pretended to not pay attention his words could be heard clearly.

"Did you kill them?" Jaehyun pressed on, such an asshole move.

"Why, wanna die too?" The redhead spat back at him but Jaehyun just laughed as if it was funny.

You looked around but saw no supervisors which, in retrospect, was no surprise, Jaehyun usually only put on his big boy pants when his uncle or his men weren't around.

"I was just curious. How can somebody walk around with the blood of their parents on their hands," he said and that was when you felt a sudden shift in the energy, something hot and surging like lava boiling up, then a moment later Sunwoo unsheathed his sword, the point of its blade stopping right under Jaehyun's chin. The metal didn't glow blue like usually when a mage's energy shifted into ot, rather it looked like it was smoldering as if it burned scorching hot. You had never seen something like this.

"One more word about my parents and I will walk out of here with your blood on my hands," Sunwoo hissed and based on the arrogant grin on the other's face, he just couldn't get the seriousness of the situation. He was so sure that nobody would dare to hurt him as a relative of the King. But he couldn't feel the darkening energy that started to envelope the room, the building up anger and the weight of such power that was ready to burst.

"Just shut up, Jaehyun," you snapped at the boy harshly and tugged on Kim Sunwoo's arm that held the weapon to pull him away. He barely nudged and his skin felt feverish even over the layers of his uniform. You yanked your hand back because it almost burned, what the hell.

Sunwoo's dark eyes focused on you for a moment and it was when you realized where you had already sensed his energy. At the market a few days ago. You couldn't feel the unusualness of his energy this time when he walked into the hall but now, it was sharp and clear like the smell of rain after a storm.

The boy glared at you as if he had any reason to be mad at you and before anybody could have stopped him, he pushed past Jaehyun's gang, out of the main hall.

Him storming out of the place wasn't left uncommented, of course. Master Seo's nephew claimed that the newbie overreacted while others muttered about his bad temper and how the situation could have gotten worse if you didn't interfere. Not that Jaehyun was grateful, he clearly thought that he was handling the situation perfectly. And Kim Sunwoo… he might not have needed your help to protect himself but his actions clearly showed that he had no idea what kind of people were at Jeongjinrak. If he had seriously injured Jaehyun, his father wouldn't have left him unpunished and as an orphan Sunwoo probably didn't have anybody powerful enough who would have stood up for him. It was better if he didn't stir trouble with the Seo–Lee family.

You didn't know what to expect from Kim Sunwoo after his first day bravado but he showed up the next day at the practice room earlier than anybody and he sat in the back at the history lesson held by Park Danggu. His swordsmanship wasn't elegant at all, it looked like he either self-studied it or picked it up from a very shabby master but even like that, he had clearly reached Jipsu and Ryusu because he could gather energy of water flow and direct it to his opponent during a fight. He had a very street-like technique if it could even be named one but he still managed to land the three blows needed to win in your practice fights against Younghoon who was left speechless on the ground after the last energy burst pushed him to his butt. It made you wonder whether he had come to your training center to learn how to master his skills to their full potential or he had another reason. Most people don't join Jeongjinrak at his level or as late as his age.

Sunwoo seemed to have become an expert in ignoring Jaehyun's remarks which (to your greatest delight) annoyed the hell out of the noble guy. However, sometimes you could tell that the accusations hit too close to home. You could sense the shift in energy or get a whiff of smoke and when you walked by Sunwoo's seat, you saw that he had left a burnt handprint on the wooden desk. Even though Sunwoo didn't hurt anybody, he wasn't particularly nice to the other pupils, which didn't help the rumors. Some said he would snap one day and burn the whole place down and judging by the dark look in his eyes, you wouldn't have been too surprised either. Though unlike others you doubted he had come to Jeongjinrak with that purpose.

"I heard there's some uproar at the academy these days," your father brought up casually one dinner when you were allowed to be outside of the establishment. "Not gonna lie, it has been strangely calm ever since Yul took over."

"He's working hard, come on," your mother tsked, amused as always whenever it was about their friends and their bickering.

"I'm not saying he doesn't, but he might get bored there at this rate," your father mused out loud, picking out a honey biscuit from the bowl on the table and you knew he was just joking because he had done a lot so that Daeho could be as peaceful as it was.

"It's not really an uproar. Just a new guy," you shrugged. You didn't want to give too much meaning to the prophecies and predicaments about his and your future, you didn't want that to influence anything. Not after how unfairly mage masters had treated your father in the past because of such things.

"Just a guy with the Firebird's energy," your father pointed out mimicking the casual way you talked and your gazes met when you looked up to glare at him sulkily. You didn't want to worry your mother, so it would have been better if she didn't even know it. Wishful thinking, your father never kept secrets from your mother. Who was now looking at you, bewildered.

"Is it true?"

"Yeah. But he isn't that bad. Like, yes, his energy feels a bit wrong and wild but he keeps it under control," you said because the last thing you wanted was to be withdrawn from training just because your mother was worried. You were often told that you were a lot like her actually: reckless when it was about your own safety but fiercely protective when it came to your loved ones.

"Well, not every unknown or powerful is evil. There better not be another witch hunt out of fear," your mother concluded with a hand over yours, lightly squeezing. "It's actually better that he is here, supervised than being out there, doing god knows what. If he becomes dangerous, we can protect you here."

You sighed, having had enough of being treated like a baby.

"Mom! I can protect myself."

"Sure you can, our brave daughter," your father joined with a fond smile and ruffled your hair. He stuffed honey biscuits into your mouth to suppress your big girl complaints.

You could be the best mage pupil at Jeongjinrak but you would always be the beloved daughter of Cho Yeong and Jang Uk.

You weren't looking for trouble, really. It was a mere precaution. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer or whatever. If you were indeed destined nemesis with Kim Sunwoo, you should have known what he was up to. Did he really only come to Jeongjinrak to be a better mage? Did he even want to be an integrated part of society? Where did he learn how to fight like that? What else was there to his story?

You had a dozen questions which could only be answered by the guy himself but even after weeks of attending the academy, he still wasn't befriending anybody. Not even Haknyeon with whom he had been doing sparring practice lately. So you did the next best thing you could do instead of talking to him: you followed him when you caught sight of him slipping away under the dark of night after the curfew started.

It wasn't the first time you broke this rule of Jeongjinrak but it was the first time when it was because of a boy.

Sunwoo didn't go far, just over the walls, to a small abandoned house with an extinguished pit of fire in its garden. He stopped there, circling around the charred black ground then sat down with his legs crossed. You watched him from over the top of the walls, not wanting to make any further noise by jumping down on the other end and risking getting caught. You wanted to see what he was doing without him knowing after all. So then you waited.

After a few moments passed and nothing happened, Sunwoo looked like he was in the middle of a deep meditation, so you kind of regretted the awkwardly uncomfortable position you chose. You had good stamina but pulling yourself up onto a wall with only half your weight supported by a tree branch… it wasn't ideal. But then, after more minutes of just waiting, something happened, something that shouldn't have been possible: the dry leaves and branches in front of the sitting boy suddenly burst into flames as if he had stroked stones against each other to spark a fire. However, Sunwoo did no such thing, in fact he did not move at all. While he was with his back to you, so you couldn't tell for sure but you would have bet that he had his eyes closed. He just shifted energy to fire and if it wasn't enough proof, you saw him raise a hand and form a little ball of fire in his palm. It was the same thing you were taught to do with water but you had never seen, never even heard of anybody being able to do that with fire.

Your magic was based on the energy of the sky that ruled the wind, the clouds and rain. It was the first thing kids learned. It was a definite truth like the Sun rising in the East. It was taught at the first class you took at Jeongjinrak: that the energy from above crashed into the water basin next to Daeho, Lake Gyeongcheondo, and it brought powerful magic to the ground. The same lake that became the burial place of the Firebird twenty or so years ago. Right when Sunwoo was born.

You should have gone back to the dormitory then, finally knowing what he was doing but questions kept stirring up in you and you couldn't just leave. As you straightened yourself from the cramping position, the branch creaked beneath your weight and you could see Sunwoo perk his ears at the sound. It was time to quit hiding.

"So this is why you sneak out? Honestly, I expected something more exciting," you spoke up casually as you swang one leg after the other over the wall and hopped down elegantly on the other side. You dusted your hands down in your overskirt and stepped closer to the small fire.

"Like what? Hiding bodies?" The boy asked stiffly.

He was watching you as if he couldn't tell your motives and he was probably right to do so. But you didn't spy on him just so you could tell on him or blackmail him, it was merely to satisfy your own curiosity.

"Pranking Jaehyun's gang or something," you said with a nonchalant shrug which made Sunwoo scoff. Unlike his usual neutral expression, he almost looked amused then, so you decided it was safe to ask more.

"You know who I am, right?" You started off as you sat down across him, watching as he was drawing patterns into the ash. It might have sounded like a self-flattery question but you knew your reputation and most people didn't act around you like he did. Considering that you were even said to be each others' nemesis.

"Who doesn't?" Sunwoo rolled his eyes but it didn't quite answer your question. Or well, not the underlying one you were actually curious about. Of course, he knew you, you were in one class but it didn't mean he knew about your family, your power.

"And the prophecy about us?"

"I don't believe in such things," he said coldly, looking up at you. He looked serious and you didn't know how to feel about it. Obviously you were glad that he wasn't outright antagonistic against you but you did believe in fate and him not caring about it was off putting. "Why? Did you expect me to attack you the moment we met?"

So he did know about it.

"No," you mumbled, feeling a bit confused because whenever you did imagine meeting him, you thought it would be under much more disturbing circumstances. With Daeho in danger for example. Or that he would be evil. He didn't seem like that but one could never know for real.

So you changed the topic. There was no use sticking to one about destiny when he didn't believe in it.

"Why are you out here practicing alone?" You looked around the abandoned neighborhood. Sure, people might have looked at him weirdly if they saw he was practicing a kind of skill that was unlike any other you had encountered before but that was because people were always wary of unfamiliar things.

"It's not something others can teach me. My old mentor said that it's unprecedented, so…" Sunwoo just shrugged, resigned. "I get it. It's unnatural. Most people fear me."

You knew that feeling, being looked at with fear just because you could do something others couldn't. Being the daughter of a powerful priestess and a mage with a dark past without others knowing that your mother's soul had also been an assassin could have either made you an outcast or popular. You weren't a fan of either but the mage students at Jeongjinrak would have never dared to treat you the way they did Sunwoo.

“And your parents?” You blurted out, wondering if they could accept him the way he was or they were afraid too. Because you were lucky in that sense because your parents understood your feeling of oddness among your peers. Sunwoo however took your question in a different direction and it rendered you speechless for a moment.

“They died. In fire.”

Oh. So Jaehyun was right about one thing but it still didn't mean that it was Sunwoo's fault. But the way he cast his eyes down, the ember warming up under his stare, you could feel his regret and guilt consuming his energy, so you didn't dare to ask about details.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, not in pity but sympathy.

Sunwoo hummed but didn't react otherwise. He didn't seem angry or bothered. It made you wonder when was the last time he felt understood, listened to. It made you want to pat his back and tell him that it was going to be okay.

You were quiet for a while, listening to the crickets chirp and you were sure Sunwoo stalled his practice because of you, so you wanted to reassure him that you weren't afraid of him, that he could keep trying but what came out of your mouth was more like a curious inquiry.

"Don't take it in a negative way but why did you come to Jeonjinrak? If you still need to learn by yourself."

The boy sighed but still answered patiently as if he believed you would leave him alone once you ran out of your questions. Or maybe he didn’t want to be left alone. He seemed a bit lonely.

"My mentor was old, he told me to come here if he couldn't teach me anymore. He once saw me trying with a sword and the way I lost control over fire. He tried his best to teach me the basics of energy control but I had nobody to actually practice fighting with. I'm still not very good."

That he said but he never lashed out and burned anything down no matter how much Jaehyun pushed him. You thought he didn't give enough credit to himself.

“Let’s train together. Not to brag but I’m the best among Master Seo’s pupils,” you exclaimed with your chin raised high proudly, a bit playful and you pretended to feel offended when Sunwoo looked at you doubtfully. “Hah, don’t look at me like that! You don’t believe me?”

You stood up, dusting off your skirt, and drew your sword out, poking the guy’s chest with the blade’s pointy end gently to nudge him too. He laughed, genuinely, for the first time since you had known him but complied. He pushed himself to his feet too and faced you with his drawn sword.

You striked first, just testing the ground, his level, but he blocked easily, so your little sparring practice turned heated soon. Heated in a literal sense because while your sword was glowing blue from the floating water energy in the air but after a while, Sunwoo’s started to look like it was burning, with a reddish glow to it. You could feel his energy too, just like anybody’s else, but this was new because unlike most people’s energy state, his felt unpredictable. He almost scorched you with one fireball sent your way but you managed to get out of its way at the last minute before using the boy’s apologetic self to your advantage to attack back. After a while, he stopped holding back and fearing that his power would hurt you or get out of control. It felt freeing, you could tell, and watching his smile lightened by the sunrise’s glow, you felt lighter too.

There was no prophecy worth dedicating your life to just to despise somebody who didn’t deserve it and really, maybe you could write your own history.

Once he let his guards down and let people get closer, Sunwoo made friends easily at Jeongjinrak. Changmin was excited that he finally had somebody to annoy you with and Haknyeon now had a study buddy in the mage library because Sunwoo had a lot to catch up on when it came to theoretical and history knowledge of your kind. When it came to practical classes, he usually joined your group and you could tell that it annoyed the hell out of Jaehyun’s circle that he wasn’t a lonely wolf anymore.

He wasn’t the only one watching you warily though. You could see Master Seo eyeing your duo worriedly whenever he passed by the practice room but didn’t interfere. You were sure he knew what was said about your future and that he meant well but you hoped he wouldn’t tell on you to your parents. Based on how protective they were of you, you knew they wouldn’t have been too happy about your sudden friendship with the boy with the Firebird’s energy.

And then there was Youngjae, of course. He had no idea about the prophecy and yet, he just had to be nosy.

“I don’t like that you hang out with him so much,” he said when you were in his royal quarters, feeding the turtles in the garden pond.

You just rolled your eyes, didn’t even spare time to answer as you crouched down, holding out a fresh leaf to one of the animals. Times like this always remind you of your childhood. When you were too young and too naive and your parents sent you and the Crown Prince to the garden to play while they talked about politics and dangers. They still treated you like kids but you knew better now.

“Are you listening? He’s said to be dangerous,” Youngjae whined and you weren’t sure he was more worried or jealous. Not the romantic kind of jealousy though. There might have been rumors but you didn’t think that the prince had interest in you like that. Sure, he might have been more comfortable being close to you than any foreigner princess he hadn’t known, but he was more jealous of Sunwoo getting to spend time with you while he couldn’t. He had been surrounded by people all the time and yet, he was so, so lonely. The fate of a ruler.

You acted nonchalant whenever he whined but secretly you hoped that his future bride would be able to fill this void in him.

“Who said that?” You asked, disinterest coloring your voice pale.

“Everybody!”

You sighed and after leaving the last piece of leaf on the ground, among the moss, you stood up to face Youngjae.

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” you lectured him with a disapproving tsk before curling your lips into a confident smile. “And even if he was dangerous, you shouldn’t underestimate me.”

You bowed towards the boy lightly, polite within the walls of the palace, and when he tried to follow you, you scolded him that it wouldn’t be proper of him to go after you into the outhouse which made him flustered down the core and gave you the chance to slip away without him or any of the servants following closely.

However, you passed by the outhouse without stopping by and wandered towards the king’s quarters. He had summoned your parents over an important issue and you wanted to know what it was because your always recklessly brave mother looked worried when she read the summoning letter. And if anybody caught you snooping around, you could just tell them that you didn’t feel well and were looking for your parents to ask for a leave. Not that they would have believed you ‒ they knew you too well ‒ but others might have.

“But… how did it get out? I thought, only Jin priestesses can open the door to Jinyowon,” King Gowon’s deep voice was hushed. He clearly didn’t want others to know about whatever caused disturbance. It must have been important if he needed your parents, both of them, to help him out.

“That is true but there might be other hidden entrances we don’t know of like the ones from the mirror world or Gwido,” your mother enlightened him and you furrowed your brows. You had no idea that the dangerous relic storage of your maternal home had other entrances other than the one overgrown with ivy creeper, the one that couldn’t have been forced open. It only opened for those of the Jin blood. You had been there a few times, always a short visit and you were never allowed to touch anything but you had heard stories of the time of Great Chaos. Jinyowon was on the verge of collapse and many things, monsters, escaped. They started causing hunger, drought and deaths, so it was your parents’ task to put them back to their lawful places.

“You should capture it as soon as possible. The last thing we need is disturbance before the the Moon Festival,” the king said and hearing your father’s promise and steps, you quickly pulled away from the wall to get away.

Their conversation didn’t leave you be though. What exactly had got out of Jinyowon and how?

You and Sunwoo kept practicing both in daylight and after the Sun went down.

He had improved a lot in his control and precision over the weeks but you were still better. There was one thing in which he was excellent at though, with much more experience that you had: archery. He had said it was because he was used to living close to the woods and hunting for his own food but you thought there was more to it. So while you were teaching him energy control, he taught you archery, it was only fair.

“You’re getting better but your stance is still too unstable,” he noted after you two checked where your arrows managed to hit the target. They weren’t as scattered as they used to be and you hit the board with each arrow at least, but it was nowhere near as concentrated around the center as Sunwoo’s. Your aim still needed some work.

“I’m trying but I’m not used to standing still for this kind of thing,” you admitted irritatedly because the fighting technique you learned involved a lot of movements and agility and logically speaking you knew that even if you needed to use your archery skills in real life it would be on the go but to improve your aim, first you needed to learn how to keep steady.

“I know. Get into position again,” Sunwoo instructed you and with a huff of sigh, you walked farther from the target with your arrows back into your quiver and faced the tree from a distance, ready to draw your weapon when the boy stood behind you.

“Close your eyes,” he said quietly, his breath fanning over your neck. Fighting a shiver and a snicker about his weird teaching technique, you did as he told you. The world went dark around you as you closed your eyelids and you were especially aware of the roughness of wood against your calloused fingertips, the heat of another body beside yours and the sound of your own breathing.

Sunwoo put a hand over your shoulder and pulled it backwards until you straightened your back, getting into the correct position. He then fixed your fingers around your bow leaving little tingles in their wake behind. You took a deep breath when his touch brushed against the ribbon in your hair.

“What do you feel?” Sunwoo asked quietly, his voice fighting the breeze of air, swimming through the ocean of your thoughts.

“Calm,” you surprised yourself with your honesty as you realized that the feelings that washed over you was serenity. Ever since you overheard your parents talking with the king and you learned from Lady Kim that your family home was empty for days, your thoughts had been running wild and you jumped into training after training to suppress the turbulence of your mind. Sunwoo didn’t ask what was up with you, but he readily practiced with you until you were exhausted enough to fall asleep.

“Good. Then try to concentrate on other senses of yours except sight. Take a sniff of the smell of spring, feel the wind lead your arrow, hear the birds, feel the tenseness of your bow… then when you took in your entire surroundings, open your eyes and shoot,” the boy said and you didn’t needed to see or have special priestess powers to be able to tell he stepped farther away but you didn’t open your eyes.

You followed his lead and let your senses strengthen as you focused from flower to flower, tree to tree. As a priestess you had a very sensitive power to be able to tell where and what kind of energy was and even though it was the strongest in mages and other magical creatures, it was everywhere around you: under the ground, up in the sky, in every blade of grass and blossom that fell from the trees. The more you let yourself get immersed in nature, the clearer you saw what was around you without having to open your eyes. Then you finally understood what Sunwoo had said that the key was to be aware of your surroundings.

You slowly pried your eyes open, your sole focus on the target in front of you, clearer than ever. You drew the bow string tight and sent the arrow flying and it hit the target, bull’s eye.

“Oh my, did you see that?” You turned to face Sunwoo in disbelief, excitement bubbling in your veins from the achievement while a proud smile spread over the boy’s face. He probably took pride in your improvement similarly as when you saw him land a Chisu blow the other day.

“See? I told you that you can do it,” he said, the wind brushing his burgundy hair into his face which made you want to reach there and rake your fingers through his locks. But you just stood there, staring, the energy flowing around you and you couldn’t help but blurt out your fresh observation.

“Your heart is beating fast.”

Sunwoo’s smile didn’t fade. He didn’t protest. He knew it would have been in vain or maybe he didn’t even want to.

“Because you are deadly,” he said and you let out a scoff at the teasing, ready with a retort that died on your tongue when you heard the terrified scream.

Your eyes widened and you exchanged a brief look with Sunwoo before without any spoken word, both of you started running towards the source of the noise. The closer you got to the town, the more screams were heard and people came running from the opposite direction which only slowed you down. You could tell by the unmistakable smell of smoke that something was burning, yet the heat from the flames when you got there still felt haunting. You could already see Songrim officials handle the situation by directing water to the fire to put it out but you wanted to help. You crouched down next to an old lady who must have fallen and offered her a helping hand, hoping that she wasn't too shaken up. You didn't expect her to mumble about the sudden attack, the fire ball bursting in front of the gates and the chaos. Much less the frightened look on her face as she looked up.

“It’s him!” A woman pointed to your left and muscles pulled taut, ready to face the enemy, you turned, pointing your sword at the said direction only to see Sunwoo there.

You furrowed your brows, confused, but the woman didn’t take back her accusation and others around you backed her up too, claiming that it was him setting a fire to the noble’s house. What? Who were they confusing him with?

“That’s impossible. He was with me the whole time,” you shouted over the chaos, lowering your sword but the murmurs barely subdued and people still looked at him in fear. It left a bitter taste in your mouth as you watched Sunwoo's shocked, saddened face. With his reputation, it was almost too easy to blame him.

So close to the biggest festival in the capital, Songrim didn't want to risk being accused of having bias when it came to Jeongjinrak's students, so as the publicly appointed suspect was Sunwoo, he had to go through a not too pleasant interrogation.

Since you were his alibi, you were questioned as well and since both of you were outside of the training center when it happened, you knew that you would face Master Seo’s punishment for sneaking out and breaking the rules anyways.

“And are you absolutely sure that he was with you the entire time?” Your uncle, Songrim’s leader, looked at you expectantly and without hesitation, you nodded.

“I told you: we were practicing archery then we heard the scream at the same time and went to see what happened. We found the building already burning though by the time we got there. No sign of who did it,” you recited for the third time at least when the same question was asked differently.

However, this was the only occasion when uncertainty hit you as you thought back on events. Could you really be sure? Was Sunwoo really with you from the beginning to the end? You had your eyes closed for minutes. Could he… Nah, that was crazy. Why would he have done that anyways? He had no motive and it was unrealistic that he could have left and come back without you noticing.

“Alright. I believe you but please, try to stay out of trouble. At least until your parents are not out of town,” Park Danggu pleaded with a fatherly tone and you knew that your parents would know about your little rebellious act by his next letter to them. Even if he wasn’t friends with your father, his wife was your mother’s little sister, so there were really no secrets between them. You didn't make any promises though.

“Do you know anything about them? Or how is their search going?” You grabbed onto the chance to ask because you haven't heard much of them since they had left. They had sent you honey biscuits every three days and it was their sign that they were alright but you didn't know anything about the mission itself.

“Don’t worry about them. They know what they are doing. I’m sure they will be back soon. They are honor guests at the festival after all,” Songrim's leader tried to reassure you with a smile. Since you were done there, you bowed out of respect, thanking when he invited you over to dinner sometime, claiming that the twins, your oldest cousins, were missing you.

Things were quiet for a while. The rules got stricter around Jeongjinrak and the other mage pupils blamed you and Sunwoo as if they didn’t sneak out from time to time. Though it was true that you were the only one who got caught, what should you have done? Ignore the screams and sneak back to the comfort of your bed without trying to help at least? Cowards.

So you thought it was a one time thing, a misunderstanding but one night when the moon was at its brightest you woke to a heavy weight over your chest. It was like waking up from a nightmare without remembering any details. You put a hand over your heart and tried to concentrate, to identify this bad feeling.

Your mother could not only feel energy better than any mage but she could tell exactly what kind of energy it was. That was why she and your father were the perfect team to hunt down creatures of ill-intent. You didn't have her expertise but you could tell that the energy that was floating around you then had something malicious and wrong about it. You got out of bed, peaking out of your room but there was only eerie silence.

Then, the next moment you heard the watchbell's loud sound. You grabbed an overcoat to cover your nightgown and your sword. On the corridor, you met other sleepy students in similar attire as you all ran towards the gathering place.

"Changmin!" You called over to the boy when you saw him and he caught up with you quickly.

"Hey, do you know what's happening?"

"No idea. Something just feels off," you said and glanced around, looking for other familiar faces.

You had gone a bit further away already when you eventually noticed the smoke. You weren't the only one, others pointed it out too and you could hear the gasp.

"The library is burning!" Somebody yelled and a simple sentence like that was enough to cause havoc because instead of stopping and waiting at the gathering place, most people continued the run to the building on fire. You exchanged a glance with Changmin, then you both headed towards that direction too.

The closer you got, the stronger the strange feeling was. You tried to ignore it and see if you could help but Master Seo and his men were already handling the fire while some were chasing down the arsonist. You could hear people yelling about him escaping towards Jeongjinrak's Eastern walls. You didn't hesitate: you climbed up the nearest building and ran in the same direction from rooftop to rooftop. Without the crowd and distractions on the ground, you were much faster like this. Fast enough to see the hooded black figure swing over the wall, jumping right after him.

"Stop!" You shouted but, of course, it was only in vain, a way to tire your throat out, not the troublemaker. But since he wasn't listening, you had no choice but to attack, sending a wave of energy his way to knock him off his feet. He stumbled but carried on, determined until the end you had to give it to him.

Your second blow was stronger, the assailant fell and it gave you enough momentum to catch up with him. You pushed his body more to the ground by his shoulders and hovered over him even when you forcefully turned him around and tore the hood part of the cape off his head.

Then, the world tilted around its axis and you froze under the watch of that familiar face.

“Sunwoo?” You asked shakily, confused, but the boy stared back at you with disdain and it was a strike constant to his playful smile he had said goodbye with a few hours prior.

It was Sunwoo but at the same time it wasn’t: he looked exactly the same as the last time you saw him except his eyes. They were coal black and emotionless. They were scaring you. Just like the darkness of the energy swirling inside him.

"What happened to you?" You asked in a shaky voice, not sure if he could hear or understand you because he stared so emptily as if he was nothing but a shell. "Sunwoo…"

You tried gentler but to no avail, the guy's eyes turned sharper the moment he heard approaching steps and the next moment you flinched away because of the burning feeling running up your arm. Only when you stumbled farther did the pain subside and looking down at your overcoat, you saw the burnt mark of a hand over your upper arm.

In disbelief, you stared at the wound and took a tentative step backwards when Sunwoo, this possessed Sunwoo, came closer. You pointed your sword at him.

"Don't come near me," you warmed him, the 'or else' clear in your tone, yet the real reason for your warning was that you didn't want to hurt him but if he didn't stop, you would have to. "Sunwoo, please…"

The swish of an arrow was the first thing you saw next, then Sunwoo, grabbing onto his arm in pain and while you searched for the attacker he ran away, more arrows flying after him.

"Stop!" You yelled at the stranger over the walls, angry and desperate, not knowing what to do to bring back the boy, the Sunwoo you knew. The guy with the bow jumped off next to you and the red strands of his hair made you wonder whether you were hallucinating.

"Sunwoo?" You asked, unsure, the witchcraft making you doubtful.

"It's me," the boy said, quiet and warm, just the way you knew him.

"Sunwoo," you called his name in relief and hugged him close, closing your eyes as you let his body’s warmth embrace you. It was like a soothing balm unlike the cold roughness the other emitted. The world was finally alright again. "What happened? Do you know who he was or…"

You couldn't even finish the sentence. You were roughly yanked away from Sunwoo who was held down by two officers, ties and eye cover on him like criminals. Songrim's leader and his men were all around you as well as students from Jeongjinrak who pointed their fingers at the kneeling boy accusatory. They had all seen him flee apparently. They had seen him attack soldiers. They had seen him create fire on the top of his palm. It was his doing, they claimed and if you hadn't seen the real one, you might have believed them.

You elbowed your way through the crowd and grabbed your uncle's arm, tugging.

“I know it sounds crazy but it wasn’t him. It looks exactly like him but it’s not him!” You protested but this time Park Danggu didn't seem convinced. "Please. You have to believe me!"

“Sorry. It will be the safest if we lock him up,” the man said firmly, with an apologetic sigh, and signaled his guards to capture the boy.

"It's alright," Sunwoo reassured you when he passed by you before you could have made a scene over the injustice. It was not alright but you knew that he meant well. If you were confined too for disobedience then who would have proved the truth?

You watched him being taken away and wondered if you took any missteps, if you were accused of using your priestess powers they couldn't understand to evil deeds, would they have turned against you so quickly too? Or would you have been privileged because of your parents? Sunwoo had nobody, so if you didn't help him, he would have been all alone in this. The thought clenched your heart uncomfortably.

But of course, being one of the spectators, Jaehyun couldn't shut up, not even when it was about things he didn't know, so unaware of your internal turmoil, he just had to brag to his friends that he had told them so, that he was right about Sunwoo all along.

“Good, that freak is finally at his deserved place,” he snickered purposefully loud enough for you to hear and you didn’t know what got into you but in that moment you saw red and didn’t even think. You stormed up to Jaehyun and punched him. Hard. It might have earned you suspension and red knuckles but at least it felt good.

Proving Sunwoo's innocence wasn't an easy feat. First of all, because only Changmin and Haknyeon dared to openly take your side and believe your story. Second of all, because there had been weeks between the two fire incidents you knew of and you couldn't just wait for another to happen, so it would prove that Sunwoo couldn't do something like that from captivity.

With the library half burnt down, it was hard to look for options in written history too and you wouldn't have known if Sunwoo had an evil twin because the prophecy would have surely pointed that out. Soul shifting was also not an option because you literally saw the two of them together, looking alike and all that. You were so out of options that you were about to visit a shaman and ask if they knew about black magic that could cause something like this but then your parents arrived home.

Clearly they had heard of what you had gotten yourself into from your uncle and didn't like it one bit. So of course, you got your fair share of scolding but it wasn't like they had been any better at your age and they knew.

"So you repeatedly sneaked out of Jeongjinrak after curfew to what… practice with that boy?"

"His name is Sunwoo."

Your father rolled his eyes as if he couldn't care less.

"At least you should have sneaked out for something more… important," he crossed his arms and it was funny, really, because your parents had always taught you to be honest and only follow rules that made sense. They probably knew you would hear enough stories about them being rebels from Park Jin and Lady Kim at least.

"Like when you sneaked out to meet mother?" You crossed your arms too and Jang Uk narrowed his eyes at you.

"Are you sure you only practiced sword fighting and archery?" He raised a brow and the implication only made sense to you a few seconds later.

"Oh my lord, yes! Not everybody is like you and mother! We have nothing like that going on. He's my friend," you clarified, louder and more defensive than intended. You tried not to think of the way Sunwoo’s hug had made you feel.

"Well, we were never quite friends, that's for sure," your mother piped in, amused, and took your father's hand before looking back at you, more serious this time. "Danggu told us you're convinced it wasn't the boy's doing despite multiple people giving his descriptions to the investigators. He said you were also with him both times the fires happened and he was found."

"Yes and that's why I'm sure it wasn't him," you quickly jumped on the chance to explain, grateful that your parents were willing to listen. At least it looked like it. "The second time I chased down the hooded figure running off the scene and when I caught up with him, I also thought it was Sunwoo. He looked just like him but his eyes and expressions… It was like a lifeless ghost's. It wasn't like him. And his energy felt different too, unnatural."

Your parents exchanged a knowing glance. Their secret little thing which used to annoy you because sometimes they communicated with only looks over the dinner table but in a way, you thought it was sweet, that they knew each other so well, like their souls were so intertwined.

"You know that something escaped from Jinyowon, right?" Your mother asked once they seemed to decide with your father to tell you that and you gave a short nod. It would have been a useless lie to deny that and you knew that they wouldn't have held the truth over your head, not as much as a lie. "Have you ever heard about the nail-eating mouse?"

"No, but I don't understand how it connects to Sunwoo's case," you admitted a bit confused. A mouse didn't sound too scary.

"This mouse eats nail clippings at night and literally turns into the person whose nails they were," they explained and oh, now that made sense.

"How long can it stay as that person?" You asked tentatively and you could tell that your mother was careful with her words as she answered.

"Usually a few days for each nail. Unless their victim dies while they are in their form, then forever."

You could feel your throat tighten at the possibility and there was this urge to go to wherever Sunwoo was kept and make sure he was well-guarded before anything like that could happen. But of course, your parents told you this on purpose and they didn't want you to go on a secret mission alone.

"It is our case, leave it to us. We will find the doppelganger and clear your friend's name, don't worry," they reassured you and you nodded, thankful but not quite convinced.

No matter how much you trusted your parents and their skills, you couldn't just sit still. You were their daughter after all and it wasn't in your blood.

You told Changmin and Hakyeon what you knew and you tried to figure out what was common about the fires so far. You didn't know anything about the noble whose house was the first incident while in the school there could be many targets. Not in the library though. In both cases the chaos and anger following was bigger than the number of casualties, so maybe that was one of the goals: attention.

"And let's not forget that both happened when Sunwoo was nearby. It's kind of smart if this copycat wants him to take the blame," Changmin added and you had to agree. Even though you were there both times too, it was unlikely that it was about you. After all, by now you were convinced that your supposed-to-be first encounter with Sunwoo, the one at the market where you felt something off about him, wasn't Sunwoo at all either and no fire broke out that day.

“Wait. Where is Sunwoo kept?” you asked frantically because if the doppelganger indeed attacked places near Sunwoo, it would make it easier to locate them.

Hakyeon, whose father worked at Songrim, seemed confused though.

“As far as I know in the palace’s holding cells, why?”

Sure, they must have thought that with so many guards around, he wouldn't cause further troubles and maybe that also meant he was safe but not if something burnt down and he was blamed. Nobody knew the extent of his skills with fire after all, not even him. And if the monster wanted attention…

“The Moon Festival!” You stood up at the realization because suddenly it was all too clear. If you were in their shoes, you would have surely let others do the dirty work. What better way to do it than causing havoc during one of the biggest events of the royal court? To save face, the king would have had to set an example. If they couldn't stop the fire otherwise, they would have to kill Sunwoo in hopes to stop it for sure.

But it wasn't enough that you were convinced. Your parents thought that the idea was too far-stretched. All this trouble to get Sunwoo's body? But it made sense to you and you couldn't help but wonder whether that prophecy was about this too. Not actually Sunwoo, but the monster wearing his face and stealing his powers.

Your parents also thought that the monster wouldn't have dared to attack the palace because it was too well-guarded, so they kept on with their usual 'searching for negative energy concentration over town' but that didn't work that effective so far, did it? So you had no choice, really. The festival was happening in two days and you had to plan how to sneak away from the celebration itself to the holding cells to warn Sunwoo. You knew only one person who could help you with that…

"No," the Crown Prince shook his head. "I told you not to trust him and now you want me to help you visit him in prison? No way."

You crossed your arms in front of your chest and glared at Youngjae.

"I will come and keep you company whenever you want for a month," you offered in exchange and you saw the surprised glint in the prince's eyes.

"Three months. If my father discovered us, I would be grounded for a month at least," he rebutted and even though you gritted your teeth, you could see the logic in his way of thinking.

"Two months because we won't get caught," you negotiated, your final offer before you tried to sneak in without his help. Youngjae might have been reluctant, but he wouldn't have let you do something like that on your own. Also, he was starving for some company these days, so you could pretty much predict him giving in.

"Alright, fine. But you have to promise not to help him escape once you are there!"

You made no such promises but not because you wanted to cause an even bigger trouble. Helping Sunwoo run away when he was a captured criminal wouldn't have helped his case, if anything it would have made him even more suspicious. So you really just wanted to warn him and give him a dagger he could have protected himself with since he didn't have his sword with him. However, you also didn't expect the Moon Festival to be so grandiose this year and the monster not being subtle either. Setting the table of offerings on fire in front of the entire royal court and the biggest noble families of Daeho? Crazy. But if he wanted attention he surely received enough. Other than angering the deities and the elders, doing such a thing wouldn't have affected anything else after all. It was a question of pride at this point. Or proving a point. He must have had a lot of fun playing this cat and mouse chase with them, not getting caught either times.

"We need to get to Sunwoo. Now," you said urgently as you saw Songrim's people scattering around probably to find the culprit because when they didn't, they would have surely ended up at Sunwoo's holding cell to question him.

"Hey," Youngjae grabbed your arm and turned you towards him, more serious than you had ever seen him. "Are you sure that it's not his doing?"

You scoffed as you shrugged his hand off you.

"Have you ever seen anybody who could do something like this while not being present? He may have unusual powers but not like this," you claimed, sure in your words, and the prince sighed sheepishly. He tilted his head towards the narrow street between two buildings and led you away from the crowd. You and Changmin followed him while Hakyeon stayed to keep an eye on the happenings. The holding cells were away from the center of the palace and you had to hurry. You were a bit out of breath by the time you made it to the sturdy building.

"I will call the guards away, then you will have a chance to sneak in. Your boy should be among the newest prisoners, so close to the entrance, right side," Youngjae turned to you one corner from the cells and you nodded, grateful, but when he moved to go closer, Changmin held him back.

"There are no guards," he said warily. You furrowed your eyebrows and peek out from your hiding spot to check. He was right. There were no guards in front of the holding cells. Instead there were unmistakable burnt marks, charred ground and wood.

You didn't hesitate. You ran inside the building only to find the bodies of the guards on the floor and your throat closed. What if you were late? What if the monster got here faster? Or worse, what if it was indeed Sunwoo's doing? What if you didn’t know him as well as you believed?

With your heart beating rapidly, you approached the right-hand side cells. Prisoners were either passively sleeping or cursing at you, seemingly unaware of what happened by the entrance. But when you reached a few cells down, you saw the metal lock melted to the ground, the door open, the insides empty and you felt your heart drop.

You cursed under your breath unlady-like and ran back out, following the lingering Firebird energy around you. Your mother said you only needed to concentrate to be able to distinguish such things so clearly, but you never really had the patience to do so. You always felt like you were more of your father's daughter, liking the feel of a sword in your hand and the spirit of fighting. Your Jin priestess skills didn't come that naturally. But then you remembered that day when you and Sunwoo were practicing archery and he taught you how to concentrate on nothing but the target. You closed your eyes, remembering his words, his touch. You forced yourself to relax, to calm down your heart, to forget about everything else. When you opened your eyes you felt a rush of power surge through you as you had never been more certain where to go.

"They are heading towards the western gates," you said and nobody doubted your words. This time it was you who led the way but you weren't sure what you would find when you got there. If you even caught up with Sunwoo in time. Would you help him or would you have to stop him?

You had no idea but you sure did not expect Jaehyun actually being helpful for once by holding them back. Even if unbeknownst to him.

Later you were told, he picked a petty fight with Sunwoo, or whom he thought to be Sunwoo, when he passed by him in the gardens, only to be confused when the actual Sunwoo showed up, chasing after the first. He then joked, asking which twin was the nicer one, and almost got himself sliced in half when the doppelganger attacked him. If Sunwoo was half as good of a swordsman as he was, Jaehyun would have been dead. Instead he was just shocked and enraged by the time you got there, watching as the two Sunwoos fought.

It was a sight indeed, two identical guys with burning swords at each other's throat. If it was anybody else, they wouldn't have known who was the real one and who was the doppelganger but you could feel it in the way energy surrounded them. The Firebird's energy surrounded them both, heat and destruction in their aura but only one of them felt like a deep abyss.

Sunwoo fell at one point, obviously injured and you wondered whether he had been chasing the monster since that thing had tried to make it look like he forced his way out of prison, leaving but behind.

"Sunwoo, down! Quickly!" you yelled at him, gathering enough water energy in the air to form a droplet of water before slicing it through with your sword sending a blow of multiplied energy towards the doppelganger. When your mother had told you that she had also taught your father to do this and it had helped him beat the now king, you didn't think that you would use the ability of Tansu for anything more than showing off. But your mother taught you well and the monster definitely seemed surprised.

When it sent a ball of fire towards you in exchange, you raised your arms protectively in front of you to lift a layer of blue glow. The fire didn't reach it though because Sunwoo stepped in its way, angry fire hitting his shoulder, sending him to the ground.

You cried out his name, lowering the protective layer as you ran to him, to check on his wound but the burn under his now holey shirt faded into nothing within seconds. A relieved sigh left you as you helped him stand and pride swelled your chest as you saw all your friends – and even not friends like Jaehyun – attacking the creature of the night. When you and the real Sunwoo joined them, the monster probably realized that his chances were low because the next moment he disappeared. Not really, but he turned back into a small white mouse, disappearing quickly between the cracks of the buildings. The Queen's favorite garden looked like a mess though. Now, how would you have explained that to the King? Would he believe you if you told the truth about the doppelganger, even without captured evidence? Would…

"I thought we told you to leave it to us," your father's firm voice yanked you out of your worried thoughts and your eyes widened when you saw your parents carry an enchanted bird cage with a white mouse in it.

"Sorry," you mumbled more out of instinct than sincerity. You would have done it again, without a second thought. You were their daughter after all, but you were sorry that you got them worried.

"Are you alright?" Your mother asked, touching your face where you felt a bruise forming. You grimaced at the slight pain you were suddenly reminded of but nodded.

Probably due to the sound of the commotion people kept showing up, soldiers and mages alike, the fire was still going on at the festival's altar and you all were requested to help contain it. It wasn't easy but with enough mages and Sunwoo's ability to somewhat control the fire's way, you eventually managed to save the palace from burning down.

While you were helping with the injured, you could see your father pat Sunwoo on the shoulder, probably complimenting him but you could also see his gaze harden and his grip squeezing a bit tighter than comfortable but the boy didn't flinch. He bowed respectfully and waited until your father started talking with Songrim's leader before making his way towards you.

His smile was sheepish and you wondered whether he got the typical protective father talk. You wouldn't have been surprised. Changmin had gotten it as well when you first befriended him and you both laughed goodheartedly at it. You weren't laughing now.

"Thank you," Sunwoo stopped in front of you, looking earnest. You shook your head.

"Don't mention it. The others helped too," you vaguely waved your hand towards the guys from Jeongjinrak and Prince Youngjae.

"No, but really," Sunwoo insisted and oh, he was serious. The intensity in his eyes made you gulp. "When you mentioned the prophecy that one time I thought you believed that it's written in stone and that at the first potential sign of it turning true, you would be against me. So… thank you for believing in me."

His words hit a cord in your heart. It seemed that while you were afraid that he would betray your trust, he was afraid that you would stop trusting him.

"Sometimes prophecies shouldn't be interpreted word by word," you shrugged as if it was nothing even though you did feel a bit guilty for having second thoughts about him. You stopped feeling like the possibility that it would turn true was hovering over you like the sword of Damocles but that day you wavered and you didn't like it one bit. You wanted to be the maker of your own destiny.

"Good," Sunwoo nodded as he let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing. Then he pointed in the direction of the main palace. "Do you think there are any mooncakes left intact at any of the stalls?"

Your parents took care of the monster and indeed helped clear Sunwoo's name. Every case of destructive fire could have been traced back to his doppelganger who probably felt the boy's raw, special energy and wanted it for himself.

As it turned out one of your cousins was the one who accidentally opened Jinyowon's cave but was too afraid to tell anybody about it. He didn't see the mouse sneak out, otherwise he would have admitted his mistake sooner. Park Danggu apologized personally to Sunwoo that his son had caused such troubles for him and that he was wrongfully accused.

On the other hand, Jaehyun did not apologize but wasn't as insufferable as before. He definitely didn't try to pick on Sunwoo or you just for the sake of feeling superior or something. He and his friend let Sunwoo be, which made Jeongjinrak's training a lot less stressful and more useful. Duels were more for motivation and actual practice than power plays.

Another good thing that came out of the whole ordeal was that Sunwoo and you could finally practice his fire skills against your water ones in broad daylight because Master Seo believed it was the perfect opportunity to examine the broadness and variety of a different kind of mage's repertoire.

Ever since then you often had sparring battles with the boy after class, making bets with 'the loser pays for the honey biscuits' kind of punishments. Once Youngjae came by and joked why it wasn't 'the loser gives the other a kiss' and you chased him down until he took it back.

"Last one to give up gets to make a wish?" Sunwoo suggested this time and you liked the sound of it. You were already thinking of what you could have asked of him when he would finally give up.

“Bring it on,” you smiled at the redhead challengingly and unsheathed your sword, getting ready for yet another sparring that felt like dancing with danger.

Would you regret it? Would he betray you one day and use the skills you taught him against you? Would you? Would the two of you turn the prophecy into reality eventually?

Maybe but you wouldn't let maybes poison your present. For now, he was just a boy and you were just a girl and your skin burned when he came too close. Swords pulled out, breathing heavy, when he smiled, your chest tightened and it felt like your heart was on fire. It consumed you slowly and sweetly and you burned willingly.

("So what's your wish?" You asked, panting, as you laid down on the ground in the middle of the field, looking up at the sky. Next to you, Sunwoo did the same.

You, his heart thump, thump, thrumped and you could feel your own jump as he slowly laced your fingers together. His hand was rough but warm.

"This. Just this," he whispered and you squeezed his hand with a smile.

The stars never looked prettier.)

#the boyz x reader #sunwoo x reader #tbz x reader #the boyz scenarios #sunwoo imagines #stories

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austinbutlermischief · 11 months ago

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I want to know more about your header. I'm thinking it from masters of the air, & a photoshoot? Can you repost, or direct me toward both pics please? Thanks!

You would be correct that one of them is a gif made from one of the trailers of Masters of the Air. The second one is a gif from the Trailer for Bikeriders. I put 2 of my gifs together to make one gif. I won't be reposting the actual one that is on my header. I can share a screen shot that bikeriders one is from

Along with another one from masters of the air

#austin butler #joeykinz answers

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bouncinghedgehog · 4 months ago

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The 1935 Monaco-Trossi race car had several features that set it apart from everything else on the grid. Its design drew inspiration from aircraft, featuring a front-mounted radial engine and an overall shape reminiscent of a wingless plane.

The power plant was an air-cooled, 2-row 16-cylinder engine boosted by 2 Zoller superchargers from behind.

An unconventional feature was its 2-stroke cycle with a split-cylinder design. The rear cylinders were fed by air, and the combustion remains were then flushed through two 4-to-1 exhaust headers out of the front cylinders. With a displacement of 4 liters, it had undersquared cylinders (65 × 75 mm). The crankshaft was a 3-piece unit placed inside a duralumin crankcase. Connecting rods were of a master-and-slave type and the two superchargers provided a mild boost of 0.7 bar (10 psi), each fed by a Zenith carburetor. The final output of 250 hp at 6,000 rpm was nothing to write home about, as the competition had engines producing beyond 350 hp.

The gearbox was mounted right behind the power unit, and the driver sat in the middle of the car. This layout made the car massively front-heavy, with a weight distribution of 75:25. Its debut was meant to take place at the 1935 Monza GP, but during official testing, it exhibited dangerously imbalanced behavior. The car had an independent front axle with cockpit-adjustable oil dampers and wider front tires, but it suffered from extreme understeer nevertheless.

Moreover, the air-cooled engine had insufficient venting. Due to overheating and handling issues, the Monaco-Trossi car was never put on the starting grid. Even its top speed of 240 km/h (150 mph) was significantly lower than the figures upwards of 300 km/h (186 mph) achieved by German cars. The Italian car was lighter, but that was not enough to compensate for its other deficiencies.

The team did not attempt to fix the issues and abandoned the program immediately.

Fortunately, the single surviving example made it through wartime, and after Trossi's death in 1949, his widow donated the car to an automobile museum in Turin. It remains in perfect condition.

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slowsweetlove · 3 months ago

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Post a daily picture/article/mention/blurb/art/fan fiction of Austin Butler (or characters he played) following (very loosely) these themes. Grab the header and keep posting.

Coffee

Glasses

Never had a thing for blondes but here we are.

Jeans

It makes no sense to look this pretty in those circumstances.

Red

B/W

His face card never declines.

Award

He was insane for this.

Music

Beginning

Dreams

Prettiest casual picture.

Weapon of choice.

Behind the scenes.

I'm looking respectfully.

At peace.

Sweater weather.

Hats are for bad hair days. And Austin Butler.

Take me dancing.

Black

Friends & Family

Dog days are never over.

A promo moment you can't get enough of.

Playlist

Sexy MF

Pumpkin spice

Voice

My favourite

I hope for a few participants across all the fandoms of Masters of the Air, The Bikeriders, Dune 2, Elvis and everything else.

Use #DDofAB in your posts and feel free to tag me. I'll be happy to tag if anyone is interested.

#DDofAB #austin butler #september challenge #i desperately need a distraction from rl atm #mota #dune 2 #dune part 2 #elvis presley #elvis 2022 #the bikeriders #benny cross #feyd rautha

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deanwinchesterswitch · 1 year ago

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The Girlfriend Who Remade Christmas

Part Eight: Fancy Ties an' Granny's Pies

Square: Food Coma ~ spnchristmasbingo (2022)

Song: Mistletoe and Holly ~ Frank Sinatra

Pairing: Dean x Nicole {Nico/Nic} OFC

Summary: Making new friends leads to an emotional confession.

Warnings: Sexually suggestive flirting; Implied sex; Fluff; Melancholy-Nicole gets emotional; Mild language; Canon divergence

Word Count: 5,012

Beta: @princessmisery666

Credit: @talesmaniac89 made the wonderful title card and chapter headers.

Series Master Post

The Road So Far https://forgottenworld.travelmap.net/

Nic squints an eye open. It’s bright, too bright, and she groans, throwing an arm over her eyes to shelter them.

“Was just coming to wake you.”

The mattress dips as he sits, and she rolls to curl around him, laying her head on the knee he props on the bed. “Hmmm, so warm and solid.” Her fingers play with the material of his boxers as her eyes travel up his shirtless torso, giving him a wink.

Smoothing a hand over her hair, he chuckles, “Are you still drunk?”

“Nah.” Giving the firm flesh of his thigh a nip before rolling onto her back, “A little groggy,” she throws her arms above her head, arching her back in a full body stretch with a satisfied sigh when the facet joints crack. Flicking her tongue around her mouth, she smacks her lips together, adding, “And I think something crawled in my mouth and died. Otherwise, not bad.”

“Well, that’s appealing.”

“Isn’t it?” Puckering her lips, she reaches for him, “Give me a kiss,” but he slips from the bed with a laugh.

“Why don’t you take care of that whole,” he wiggles a finger in the air, “mouth situation, and I’ll order breakfast. Or, uh, I could serve myself up on a platter,” he taunts, with a smart-ass grin and eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Ugh,” she groans, pushing herself upright. “That’s not going to go away anytime soon, is it.”

“Nope,” he laughs.

With a deep shrug and a wink, she laughs with him, “You know what? I stand by it. My guy’s H-O-T …hot. Smokin’ hot and almost as tasty as bacon!”

“Almost? Someone need a reminder?” The challenge in his eyes, coupled with the seductive, domineering edge of his tone, sparks an answering defiance.

“Oh, someone needs a reminder, alright,” swinging her legs off the bed, she stands, dragging her fingers up his torso, “but it’s not me. I think,” she pinches a pert nipple, eliciting a hiss, “you need to be reminded,” her nails scrape up and over his shoulder, as she glides around behind him, “of exactly who is in charge this time.”

His hands fist at his sides, muscles roll and flex beneath her fingertips as she rakes them down his back, but he remains silent. Massaging an ass cheek before giving it a firm whack, she dances away, laughing as she calls over her shoulder, “Order breakfast while I’m in the bathroom, and then we’ll see about that taste test. Oh, and Dean,” she waits for him to turn, “please order extra bacon. We’re going to need it.”

His hushed ‘Fuck me’ makes her chuckle as she closes the bathroom door behind her.

Nicole looks up at Dean, chewing the piece of bacon he places on her tongue, using his thighs as leverage to push up on her knees. With a hum and a sweet smile, she swallows the tasty morsel, “I don’t know,” fingers curling into his flesh, her head tilts in contemplation, “it’s a tough call. Both are just so …yummy.”

Dean’s grunt of disapproval makes her giggle, and she places a quick peck on the top of a thigh, scraping a nail down the length of his other. “I think I need to gather more data.”

“Well,” he reaches over for another slice of bacon from the tray on the side table, “you better get to it then,” before settling back into the couch cushions and spreading his legs a little bit wider.

“You ready to go yet?” he calls from the living room a while later. “Daylight’s burning.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your panties in a wad,” she chides, fastening her necklace as she walks into the room. “Why are you in such a rush? Thought you didn’t want to go.”

Dean shrugs as she steps up next to him. “Changed my mind.”

“Uh huh, and why is that?” With a sheepish grin, he hands over his phone. Staring at an image of a table full of pies, she asks, “What am I looking at?”

“I looked up the festival, and there are a bunch of beer and food vendors. One of them is a pie shop.”

“Ah, I see.” It’s tough, and his big cheesy grin doesn’t help, but Nic holds back the laugh that threatens to burst from her chest and pouts. “So, it’s not about wanting to spend time with your adorably awesome and oh-so-loving girlfriend. It’s about getting buzzed on craft beers and scarfing down pie.”

“Not true.” Slinking an arm around her, he roughly pulls her against him, burying his face in her neck, nipping and licking the tender flesh. “It’s about enjoying all three of my favorite food groups.” Sharp teeth gently tug on her earlobe as he pulls away.

Smacking his arm, she giggles. “Well, after that amazing breakfast you served me, I suppose I could return the favor with a special treat and nightcap later.”

“That’s my girl,” he cheers, smacking her ass, “now let’s get this show on the road.”

As they exit the elevator into the lobby, Nic asks, “You want to drive today?”

“Seriously?” Dean looks like she just handed him a giant rainbow slinky, and she can’t help the giddiness that bubbles inside her.

“Yeah. As much as I love being in control, it does feel weird doing all the driving. Besides, I want to look at your pictures from yesterday.”

Once they’re on the road, she pulls out her laptop, wiggling in the seat until she’s comfortable as his latest pictures load. When she gasps, Dean glances over, ready to ask what’s wrong, but she raises a hand to forestall any questioning.

A few minutes pass as she scrolls through the images and then whispers, ‘Wow’, before falling silent again. After another ten miles of silence, he can’t take it anymore and nervously asks, ”That bad?”

“Bad? Hardly,” she chuckles, finally looking at him. “These are wonderful. You’re a quick study.” Dean’s ears tip pink, but his smile is broad, and she can’t help but reach over and give his arm a comforting pat.

“Yeah?” His tone is doubtful. Face pinched in uncertainty.

“Oh!” She clicks her tongue and sits up a little straighter, a wide grin parting her lips as she starts typing.

Curiosity piqued when she starts humming to herself, he leans to the side, trying to see what has her so excited while keeping one eye on the road. “What are you doing?”

Without looking at him, she lightly pats his cheek, nearly poking his eye out while pushing his face away. “Watch the road. I’ll show you when we get there.”

Thankfully, it’s a short drive, and he doesn’t have to wait long. However, sitting in the parking lot, Dean squirms with anticipation when she fails to acknowledge they’ve reached their destination.

“You’re worse than a two-year-old,” she huffs, finally looking up from the computer, a teasing smile meeting his sullen pout.

Gesturing toward the park and rows of vendor booths beyond the windshield, he whines, “Food. Beer.”

“Chill, dude. I’m sure there are still plenty of pies and alcohol to stuff in those adorable cheeks and fill this bottomless pit.” With a wink, she pokes him in the belly, receiving an epic bitchface as he swats her hand away.

Ignoring the remark, he asks, “You gonna tell me what you’ve been doing?” pointing a finger at her laptop.

“Oh, yeah!” Placing the device on the console between them, she takes him through the online travel journal she created to showcase his pictures of their trip. “What do you think?”

“It’s a- a cool site, but what do we need it for? We can look at the pictures anytime we want and already know where we’ve been.”

“Well, I was hoping you’d be okay with me sharing it on my blog. I won’t be posting every picture you take, just some highlights. It will be a little memento of our journey, like a digital scrapbook. Plus, it will showcase your photos. You never know where that might lead.”

He runs a hand over his thigh, the other clenching around the steering wheel. “Uh, I don’t know. They’re not that good, and we are still hunters. Still need to stay under the radar.” Pursing his lips, he mentally catalogs all the ways this could backfire. “Why would anybody want to read about our trip?”

Nicole understands his hesitancy. She had a bit of a meltdown after sharing her first works online. He’s probably thinking about those damn Edlund books too. “Hey, I won’t post them if you don’t want me to. It’s just a fun little way to share our experience with others. A chance to share your unique perspective, like we discussed.”

If he chose to pursue a career in the field, there’s no doubt he’d be amazing at it.

“But, speaking professionally, and not as your girlfriend, these photos are very good. Yeah, the first ones are a little rough, but you can already see your progress.”

The tightness in his body eases as she continues. “Not everyone will be interested, but there will be people that will enjoy following along. Maybe they want to gain insight into a place they’ve never been or hope to travel to someday. Or they want a reminder of a favorite spot, see what your take is on a place they’re familiar with. Some just like sharing the joy in someone else’s adventures, and a few simply like being nosey. We won’t post pictures with any identifying features in them.”

Dean bobs his head, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “No names? No faces?”

“You know I don’t use my real name on my blog. I’m not going to start now.” Eyeing him with barely contained enthusiasm, she adds, “No personal details whatsoever, all metadata removed.”

“You really think they’re good enough for your site?”

Expelling an exaggerated breath, she rolls her eyes. “Do you remember my first photos? The first pieces of jewelry I made years ago that are now shoved away in that box?” A smirk forms, and he opens his mouth. “Eh!” she cautions, holding up a finger. “Don’t say a word. My point is no one starts out an expert. But yes, these are fabulous pictures. You should be proud of them."

The cheeky smile remains as he ultimately relents. “Fine. But I get the final say on what’s posted. Like, uh, what’s the deal with this one of the bartender?” The smile shifts, lips twisting and pursing as he reads her comment. “Really?” Brows knitting together, he side-eyes her. “You thought he was ‘incredibly charming’?”

Excited as she is about him agreeing to share his photos, it’s hard to contain as she explains, “He was! Oh, and did you know that his wife Abbey is one of the distillers?” Dean's features ease at the mention that Marcus is married, and Nic suppresses the giggle bubbling in her throat at his snit of jealousy. “She created one of the signature whiskeys for the season’s Distiller’s Cut.”

“Oh, yeah! She was nice, and that was the whiskey in my drink, right?” His smile is contrite but more relaxed, and he refrains from saying more about her comments in the posts. He kisses her forehead, then sighs, “Alright, show me how to do this.”

“Well, I already have everything set up for the past few days,” Nic scrolls through the site to show him the images she’s uploaded, “all you need to do is click here to share the link. Tomorrow, we can update the journal together so you can see how it works. You good with that?”

“Works for me.” After sharing the link, he slips the laptop under his seat and pulls the keys from the ignition. “Alright, let’s get some grub.”

Head resting on his shoulder, Nicole snuggles in closer to his warmth, thankful she’d brought her jacket. It’s still much warmer than back home, but the temperature has dropped to align more with the season. Since Dean ignored her advice to bring one, she’d bought him a hoodie from one of the brewery stalls that also carried branded merchandise. He’d flipped for their signature stout and signed them up for the company’s membership program with a promise to visit the brewery in the spring.

After nearly putting himself into a food coma with a metric ton of carb-filled fried foods, they found a bench away from the main throng of people, watching the sun sink lower in the orange-washed sky.

The rumble beneath her palm resting over his belly is a warning, and she quickly sits up out of the path of the loud belch he emits. Crinkling her nose when she catches the tail end of it, she waves a hand in front of her face. “Geezus, Dean!”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, giving her a sheepish grin.

“Well, I guess I should be thankful that it’s not as bad as Sam after one of his monster burritos.” His laugh is loud and boisterous, and Nic snorts, causing a few people to turn their heads, but neither of them notices. Laughter fading, she pats his stomach. “Is there room for pie now?”

“Phfft, of course!” he huffs, rolling his eyes and feigning shock. “You doubt that I would have room for pie? You wound me.”

“How imprudent of me,” she teases back.

Dean’s features soften as he brushes his thumb over her chin before picking up her hand and kissing the back of it. “Thank you.” Another kiss to her hand, and she curls her fingers into his. “Thank you for planning this trip and for always supporting me.”

Heart doing a little fluttery thing in her chest, she leans forward to kiss him but is abruptly forestalled when he turns his head to the side to let out another burp. Exhaling in disgust, she sits back. “Way to ruin the moment, dude.”

“I’m sorry,” cupping her face in his palms, he pulls her in to kiss her forehead, “again.”

Hand on his chest, she pushes him away and stands. “C’mon, let’s go get your pie.” Dean grips her hand with exuberant delight as he walks beside her.

They don’t have to wait in line long at Granny’s Pies. The crowds have thinned around the vendors’ booths as people make their way to the center of the marketplace, where the massive 35-foot tree is ready to be illuminated.

While Dean decides which twelve slices he wants for his diabetes-inducing sugar fest, aptly named the Confectionery Coma Sampler, Nicole peruses the selection of ties in the adjacent booth. She hums in admiration, picking up a burgundy tonal abstract number and sliding the soft, satiny finish over her palm.

“Excellent choice.” Nic looks up to find an older woman approaching her from the right. “Is it for that tall drink of water?”

Nic chokes on a laugh as the woman wiggles her eyebrows and tilts her head in Dean’s direction. It takes a moment to compose herself, but Nic finally responds, shooting a fond smile toward Dean. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“Well, I’m guessing he looks good in just about any color,” the woman hums in approval before looking back to Nicole with a smile, then thumbs over her shoulder. “I got one of my own. Forty-two years last month.”

Nic looks to the back of the booth to find a tall, distinguished-looking gray-haired man rearranging a display of pocket squares, who gives her a cheeky smile and a wink when they make eye contact. When he joins them, he swats the woman on her ass, and she snorts, backhanding his chest while chastising. “Bill, behave.”

“Well, that’s no fun, darlin’. But I suppose, since we have a customer, I’ll try and contain myself.” His hand moves to the small of her back, but the smirk remains on his lips.

The sense that she’s looking at an older version of Dean and herself washes over Nicole in a swell of emotion, and she can’t help the smile that spreads over her face. Being reminded that they now have a chance to grow old together—live a life outside of all the darkness and suffering—unexpectedly fills her with undiluted happiness, and she reaches over to hug the woman.

“Oh, my.” The woman pats her on the back. “You alright, dear?”

Nic steps back in shock, swiping a tear from her cheek. “Wow, uh, I’m so sorry. I, uhm, I don’t know what …why I did that.”

Taking another step back, she stumbles over a booted foot. With cat-like reflexes, Dean lifts the large box of treats he’s carrying above their heads and moves in close behind to support her body as she falls into his chest while Bill’s calloused but warm fingers grip her elbows to keep her from toppling to the side.

“You alright?” the men ask simultaneously.

Sucking in a breath, Nicole nods, tucking her chin in embarrassment. Dean twists to set the box on the table next to them, then gently grips her shoulders.

Bill releases his hold, “Ellie, would you grab the girl some water?” and steps away.

Turning her to face him, Dean brushes his fingers over her forehead and down her cheek, not so discreetly checking her temp, and Nic tilts her head back to smile up at him. “I’m okay.”

The twist of his lips and arched brow lets her know that he doesn’t believe her, but he nods, accepting her assurance—at least for now.

“Here you go, sweetie.” Ellie rubs a hand over her back. “You sure you’re alright? You want to sit down for a minute?”

“Thank you, but I’m fine. Really.” Dean’s hands drop to lightly grasp her around the waist as she takes the proffered bottle of water, drinking half of the cool liquid in one go. Resting a hand on Dean’s forearm, she hands him the bottle and turns out of his hold, looking to Ellie, “I’m sorry for creating such a commotion.” Her gaze flicks to Bill, then back to Ellie. “You just reminded me of something …someone, and it took me by surprise.”

After a few more minutes of fussing, Nic’s had enough and goes for a distraction tactic. Locating the burgundy tie she’d dropped, she holds it up for Dean to see. “What do you think?”

He’s still eyeing her like she will keel over any second but hums, “Nice.” Nic smiles, pulling out her wallet, wanting to pay for the item and make a break from the scrutiny, when he interjects, “But I don’t need fancy ties anymore. You know, with the shift in work and all.”

The pouty scrunch of her face quickly shifts into a smirk when she spots a cobalt blue gradient striped silk. “Who said,” slinking back over to him, she lifts his hands, “they’re for your neck,” then wraps the material around his wrists, “when they’ll look even prettier, here? Oh, look at that.” Pushing up onto her toes, she purrs into his ear, “You know how sexy I think you look in blue.”

Giving him a smug smile as she steps back, she silently congratulates herself on a successful mission. She knows that typically, he would turn the tables with a dirty little comeback, but since they’re amongst strangers, he’s not so bold, and she delights in the outcome. A dark pink flush creeps up Dean’s neck to the tips of his ears, his mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

Bill roars, doubling over with laughter as Ellie giggles beside him. Nicole joins in on their merriment as Dean shakes the material from around him, tossing the strip of cloth at her with a gruff, “Get that one too,” as he turns to pick up his sampler of pies.

She does indeed purchase that one, along with the burgundy abstract and another dark blue silk with tiny white and gray squares. The older couple obliges in letting her take a couple of photos, and she even convinces Dean to join them for a selfie of the four of them after promising not to post it online.

The rest of the evening is spent watching the tree lighting ceremony, dancing to the music of the local bands that grace the concert stage, and enjoying the time together. They run into Bill and Ellie as they stroll through the light display walk, and Bill invites them for a drink at his friend’s bar.

One drink leads to two, then three, and before long, the two couples are sharing stories of their lives, laughing and marveling at the similarities of their relationship progression. Nic bites back tears on more than one occasion, but as the night draws to a close, she can’t hide them any longer.

Stretched out in the booth, she leans back against Dean, relaxed and sated by good food, alcohol, and even better company. Dean’s arm is draped over her shoulder, their fingers entwined as their other hands rest on the table. His chest's steady rise and fall and the low rumble when he speaks lull her into peaceful contentment.

The men are debating the merits of the Shelby GT350 when Nic brings Dean’s hand to her lips, kissing each knuckle, and he pauses to kiss the top of her head. Ellie chuckles, and Nic turns to smile at her new friend. “You two remind me of a younger version of us.” Setting a hand over Bill’s, she gives him a loving smile when he turns to place a kiss on her forehead.

Nic sucks in a breath and tears well. Dean’s entire body tenses behind hers, immediately sensing her distress. She drops her free hand to his thigh, giving it a squeeze of assurance, but there will be no escaping an explanation this time. He is already pulling her in closer as he sits up straighter.

“I’m so sorry. Did I say something wrong, sweetie?” The degree of concern marring her countenance for someone she barely knows sends Nic over the edge.

“No. No, you didn’t- I-” Tears spill down her cheeks, her body shaking as she struggles to get her emotions in check. Dean’s arm lands across her lap, releasing her hand to cradle the back of her head as she rests her forehead against his jaw. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Bill pushing a stack of napkins in her direction and grapples for one, steadying her breathing as she cleans her face. Dean murmurs in her ear, hand running over her thigh soothingly.

When she feels calm enough to speak, she kisses Dean’s cheek and shifts to face the couple across from them. Reaching for Ellie’s hand, Nic shares a shaky smile. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually such an emotional wreck. What you said about- about us reminding you of yourselves,” her fingers flutter, and Ellie grips tighter in support, “that’s the same thought I had earlier. That- that while watching you, I was looking at an older version of Dean and myself.” The cork has been popped, and now everything is spilling over.

Leaning forward, her other hand grips one of Bill’s. “Dean and I-” he smiles encouragingly when she glances at him over her shoulder. Being the amazing man he is, he nods approval, a sense of understanding for what she’s about to share. She mouths, ‘I love you’ before turning back around.

“The …jobs Dean and I had before were dangerous, sometimes extremely so. A couple of times, I nearly lo- lost him.” Dean’s hand strokes over her spine when she chokes on the last words. With a deep exhale, she forges on. “For years, it was a constant teeter-totter of worrying about what might happen and trying to live in the moment. Enjoy the time we had together. Always the possibility that any given day was the last one we had. I know that’s still a possibility, but what we did, the cases we took on, made that a bigger threat—almost a certainty. I tried not to let myself dream of a future because I was never sure we’d have one. At least, not to- together.” Dean shifts in his seat, hand stalling on the small of her back.

A barrage of questions will be headed her way when they are alone, but now that she’s voiced it, the weight it held eases, and she’s thrilled to let it go.

“This trip, it’s the first time in years that we haven’t been looking over our shoulder, wondering what big bad thing is headed our way next. I haven’t fallen asleep terrified that tomorrow we’ll share our last kiss, that the other shoe will drop, and my life will be torn to pieces.” Both Bill and Ellie’s fingers tighten around hers, and she gives them a watery smile. “Dean mentioned earlier that things had recently changed for us, and they have. Our lives are much calmer now. But watching you two, seeing the connection, the teasing, and the love you share, kicked something loose. It reminded me that we-” Pulling her hands free, she turns and cradles Dean’s face in her palms. “We have a chance. A chance for a long, long life together.”

A single tear slips over his lashes as his arms encircle her, crushing her against his chest. Face smashed against his neck and hands trapped between their bodies, she can only hum agreement when he whispers, “We’re going to talk about this later.”

Bill clears his throat, “Well, that was a lot. You gonna be okay, darlin’?” The deep, rich timbre of his voice is distinctive but so similar to Dean’s that it fills her with unutterable serenity. It wouldn’t take a huge stretch to imagine them as father and son.

Whoa, okay. That was an odd thought—time for some sleep.

Nicole chuckles, pushing against Dean. “Yeah. I'm sorry. I’m sure when you woke up this morning, you didn’t say, “Ellie, let’s spend our evening with some stranger spilling her emotional baggage to us.”

As everyone chuckles, Dean scrubs a hand over his face, Nic gathers a wad of napkins to dry hers, and Ellie tuts, “We’re not strangers. Not anymore. I’m honored that you felt comfortable enough to share that. And I can see that it made you feel better.” She slides out of the booth, and Nic does the same, meeting her for a hug.

Both men follow to stand beside them. Bill claps Dean on the shoulder as they shake hands, “Good to meet ya, son. You take good care of your girl.”

“You too, sir. And I will.” Exchanging a warm smile, they mimic each other, placing an arm around the waist of their respective partners.

Nic gives Ellie another quick hug and a quiet thank you, hesitating for only a moment before throwing her arms around Bill’s waist to give him a quick squeeze. Chuckling, he smooths a hand over her hair, “You two be safe out there.”

Sensing Nic is about to burst into tears again, Dean bids the couple a Merry Christmas, promising they will come back to visit soon, and steers her toward the exit.

“You said Merry Christmas.” Nic sing-songs the words as they walk toward the parking lot, the grin she wears nearly splitting her face.

“What?”

Turning to walk backward in front of him, she playfully pokes him in the chest, reiterating with glee, “You wished Bill and Ellie a Merry Christmas!”

“I- uh,” his forehead creases, eyes flicking left, then right, eyebrows popping before stammering, “Yeah, well, what of it? I was just …being polite. No need to make a big deal about it.”

While she doesn’t want to push too hard, inside, she is bursting with joy. With a jump, she wraps her arms around his neck and hoists her legs up around his waist. Unprepared, Dean stumbles, arms instinctively encircling her, body twisting slightly to take the brunt of the fall if needed. He manages to keep them upright, as well as hold onto her keys while she peppers his face with kisses. “I love you. And I love your sweet, soft center, Mr. Tough-guy.”

Dean grunts, pressing the key fob as they approach the car, bringing the Jeep to life. She starts to untangle herself from around him, but he traps her between the car door and his body. “So you didn’t think we had a future together?”

Nic blinks, trying to catch up with the shift. The tension in his body, the specter of pain that never quite leaves his eyes becoming brighter, makes her insides twist with anguish.

She runs a thumb over his brow, then cups the back of his neck. “Of course, I knew we would be together. It was always about the time. About not having enough of it because even if I get a hundred years more with you, it will never be enough.” Pulling him in for a kiss, she slips her other hand beneath the hoodie and t-shirt to find warm flesh.

His chest vibrates as he moans, hands gliding up her sides as she drops her legs from his waist to straddle a muscled thigh. Her fingers play at the waistband of his jeans, and his tongue brushes along her bottom lip, but Nic breaks the kiss, “Did you hear that?”

“Nico-” he groans.

“Shush!” Grabbing the keys from him, she turns off the car and wriggles free. Walking to the edge of the parking lot, she spins, straining to hear the sound again. A cry comes from her left, and she takes off with Dean hot on her heels.

“Hold up!”

Rounding the corner of a small utility shed, Dean crashes into her, nearly sending her sprawling when she stops without warning. Grabbing the back of her jacket, he steadies them both and peaks over her head. “Well, son of a bitch! Is that-”

“It’s a baby!” Slipping from his grasp, she rushes toward the car seat holding the infant.

“Nicole, wait!”

Love Me Some Pie tag list:

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#spnchristmasbingo #food coma #tgwrc: part eight #073023 #dw's witch writes

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