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mercy-burning · 4 years ago

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Fake Fiancée - Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader becomes rather possessive over Spencer when she learns he’s been been with someone else since they hooked up four months ago. Category: SMUT (18+) Content Warnings: Language, mutual masturbation, oral sex (male and female receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, hand-on-neck (no choking), praise, degradation kink, possession kink, dirty talk Word Count: 7.1k (I didn’t mean for it to get this long I swear aldjfsdlfksk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

MASTERLIST

NOTE: HERE IT IS!!! 🥰 Thank you all for showing so much love to Part 1, I seriously wasn’t expecting all the requests for more of the story, so it was fun coming up with ideas! I’m still not sure if I want to do 3 or 4 parts yet, but I’ll let you know soon! In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy reading this second installment! ❤

***

He's been a ghost in my head for four months.

Everywhere I went I could hear his voice, hear the way he whimpered out my name and how cries got higher and higher as I clenched around him. I felt the rough grip he held on my hips as I rode him, the pads of his fingertips leaving behind faint bruises that I currently wished I still had.

And more prominently, I saw his face. It was always in the back of my mind, burning into me with lust-drunk eyes and a pouty mouth in the shape of an O. It sizzled into my brain, the sound definitely sounding more like raindrops than fire, but I was more than okay with that.

Though, every time it rained, I couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same— if he stood outside or watched from the safety of wherever he was and replayed that moment over and over again until he was aching to be in my presence once more.

I also had to wonder if he knew about the ring I'd left in his front seat.

Did he leave it in his car, perhaps in the glovebox or on a string that he tied around his mirror? Or did it fall somewhere between the seats? Maybe he found it and did what I never could, pawning it off for some happily-accepted cash while he laughed at how careless I was to take a stranger's virginity and then leave my expensive diamond ring behind like a fool.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the means to find out.

It's not like I could have wandered up to the FBI building and ask to meet with a Dr. Spencer Reid... Right? Because that as absurd. I'd only met the guy once, and he'd probably think I was crazy for trying to track him down.

It was a whole ordeal that I'd mulled over again and again, and I ultimately decided that it was ridiculous.

If anything I was happy to be rid of the ring. I could move on with my life, and maybe Spencer sold it for money or he's held on to it as a souvenir for a special night.

Win-win.

It didn't dull the small ache I felt for him, though. Every once in a while I found myself remembering how great that night was... I hadn't felt that way—sexy, confident, fun—in a long time, and as much as it sucked that he was getting picked on by some drunk idiots at a bar, I was glad it led me to him.

Some nights, when I was missing him significantly more than usual, I even went back to Waterson's in the event that I'd run into him again, hopefully under better circumstances.

Tonight was one of those nights.

This time I didn't have a ring to keep most of the men from hitting on me, but now that I was well and truly over my ex-husband, I was glad I didn't use that as an excuse to keep the ring around anymore. As annoying and painful as the drunken flirting was, I was way better equipped to handle it and truthfully somewhat relieved that I could get back to normal.

You know, save for the fact that I was only at Waterson's in the first place to maybe see some guy I hooked up with four months ago and still haven't stopped thinking about...

Because that was totally a normal thing to do.

I was on my second beer of the night when I felt a presence behind me. And even though I was pretty sure than I'd be able to tell if it was really Spencer, a part of me still buzzed thinking of the prospect of seeing him here again.

I turned around though, and was met with an entirely different person. I tried not to look disappointed, but it must have shown because the man who'd caught my attention gave a small laugh.

"I'm sorry, are you expecting someone?"

I liked to think that I had a good read on most people, especially when it came to men in bars. This man was someone I looked at for a few seconds and immediately knew that he wasn't looking to make me uncomfortable. He had come over to flirt with me, no doubt, but the difference here was that where most men would have gone straight into it, this man genuinely looked like he was willing to haul ass if I really was waiting for someone and didn't want his company.

That alone made me willing to entertain him a little, even if I was disappointed that he wasn't who I desperately wanted him to be. But it certainly helped that he was attractive.

The first word that came to mind was smooth. Even as I laughed back at the man and answered him, my eyes did some wandering of his figure and admired what I saw. A crisp, tight grey tee shirt that hugged some rather nice muscles, and brown skin that was just a few shades lighter than his eyes, which were kind and a little playful. His smile was stunning, sharing that same playfulness that his eyes held as he practically sparkled to life at my answer.

"Oh, no, I'm not... But I certainly wasn't expecting you..."

I made sure to smile at him, a little smirk that complimented the admiring eyes I was offering him and a little laugh that never failed to get me what I wanted.

He gently leaned into the bar, one of his hands coming to rest of the cool wooden surface. "I'm Derek."

"Y/N."

"Pretty name."

I don't know what made me so bold, but I nodded and shot him a wink. "Not as pretty as you."

We shared another laugh, and then I took a swig of my beer, finishing the last of it and then sliding towards him. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"We just met and you're already stealing from me... That's my line."

"What can I say, I'm quick... Hey, Carla! Can I get two more for me and my friend here?"

The bartender—and my longtime friend—laughed a little, taking my empty bottle. "Sure thing."

The look she gave me right before turning away practically yelled, I thought your type was helpless skinny white guys who can barely look you in the eye without creaming themselves...

Yeah, well, you worked with what you were given. And besides, my type was practically anyone with just a shred of decency.

Real high bar, huh?

But after Patrick, I couldn't complain. Derek seemed like the type of guy who would flirt with you at any given chance, but respected your boundaries all the same. Unfortunately that was hard to find nowadays, especially in bars like Waterson's.

So, yeah, he wasn't the man I was naively wishing to see here tonight, but he was into me, he was decent from what I could tell, and he was hot.

So we had a drink and spent a good twenty minutes chatting it up. Since it was my third beer of the night, I was accumulating a pretty steady buzz, and the longer I talked with Derek the more I opened up a little. I found myself leaning into him and finding excuses to lightly touch his arm, but I kept noticing that he was glancing down at his watch occasionally.

"Are you expecting someone?" I asked, playfully.

"Right, uh... Yeah, I was supposed to be meeting a friend here. He's usually early, but I think we got our times mixed up again..."

"Again, huh? You two aren't very good coordinators?"

Derek laughed, the sound making me feel all warm. "Well, for FBI agents you'd think we'd be better at it."

"O—Oh," I said, my heart stopping for a beat. Had I heard that right? Was I more tipsy than I thought? "FBI?"

"You seem stunned," he said with another laugh. "What, you're not a criminal, are you? Do I have to take you in?"

I laughed, albeit nervously, but decided that this all had to be pure coincidence. If I didn't, I would have gone insane. Even still, it was difficult for me to sit here and openly flirt with this man when I knew he just confessed to having the same profession as the literal man of my dreams— and as of late that also included daydreams.

In fact, I was positive that's what it was when I saw Spencer approach us— a daydream.

Derek was calling my name, I knew that much, but I couldn't do anything but look over his shoulder where Spencer's ghost practically froze in place when he spotted me.

"Y/N?"

That wasn't Derek's voice. Spencer's mouth moved in time with the calling of my name, and it even sounded like him. I blinked rapidly, hoping that I could snap out of it and excuse myself for the rest of the night, so I could go home and sleep it off.

But even when I finished blinking, expecting Spencer's figure to be gone, he was still there.

At this point Derek had turned around, and what he said next snapped me out of it pretty damn good.

"Reid? You know her?"

"You're real," I said, speaking for the first time in a while. My throat felt dry, and my heart came alive at the sight of him.

Spencer stared at me, his eyes softening after I spoke to him. I saw his lips twitch into a shy smile before his hand came up in an equally shy wave. "Y—Yeah, I'm real." What followed was a huffed laugh that cemented his nervousness at seeing me again for the first time in four months, and it was the most refreshing thing I'd heard in a while.

"Oh my God," I said, a smile of my own starting to creep up.

I'd completely forgotten about Derek being there until he spoke up, snapping us out of our reunion, his voice conveying every range of confusion.

"What the hell is this?"

***

I knew there was always a minor chance that I'd run into her again, but it still rendered me utterly still and practically useless when I spotted her across the bar with Derek.

She was just... there. After months of debating whether or not I should send her a letter with the ring mailed back or stopping by to see her, or even using Garcia's help to find where she might have been so I could 'surprise' running into her... It happened to chance that I didn't need any of that at all. Because she was really there.

And she was flirting with Derek.

I'd have been lying if I said that didn't really bother me, but truthfully I'd always felt a bit insecure around him, mostly when it came to being surrounded by women who were most likely fawning over him instead of me.

Not that I particularly wanted or even needed them to fawn over me in the first place... It was just... Telling.

And it's not like I knew or thought I wasn't at least somewhat attractive. But seeing the one and only woman who'd ever made me feel very good about all of that for probably the first time in my whole life openly flirting with my best friend? It stung. It felt like now that she'd seen me and him in the same place, she'd decide that she'd made a mistake before and that she'd be better off with someone else— someone who was stronger and more skilled and probably easier to look at.

Even when the three of us sat at a booth and Y/N decided to sit next to me, her proximity dizzying after all this time apart, the first thought that came to my mind was, She doesn't want to see me. She'd much rather sit across from Derek so she can look at him instead.

I was starting to think maybe I should have stuck to mailing her a letter...

"So... Are you gonna tell me how you two know each other?" Derek asked, leaning back and easily amused.

Y/N seemed to be amused by all of this, too, because she answered immediately, a tone in her voice that I'd only dreamed about for four months and nine days straight.

"Oh, we were engaged."

If I didn't know any better, I would have thought Derek's eyebrows were going to fly straight off his head. "Engaged? Like... Engaged?"

"I—It's not what you think," I jumped in, suddenly a little embarrassed. "Not really engaged, but... Y/N pretended to be my fiancée once... There were, um... There were these guys who wouldn't leave me alone and she came over and told them off."

I hoped he wouldn't piece it together, but it was inevitable, and the look of realization that crossed his features made me feel extra warm with embarrassment.

"Oh... Is she the reason why you actually said yes to that date last month?"

Y/N turned to me, an eyebrow raised. "A date? Because of me? I don't... I don't follow..."

I was going to explain, but Derek beat me to it.

"I've always tried to set Pretty Boy here up for a date, but he's always said no, and then out of the blue I ask him and he agrees. Which was a shock in its own. I knew something was up, something had to have given him the confidence to go on the date... And all along its been you, hasn't it?"

"Well, I... I don't know, I guess so?"

They both looked at me then, and I stared down at my hands, unwilling to look either of them in the eye. "Y—Yeah... I don't know, I guess Y/N just... helped me see something in myself I hadn't seen before."

I half expected them to think it was silly, but Y/N's hand dropped down onto my knee and I stared at it for a moment before flitting my eyes up to meet her gaze. It was soft, and a small smile grazed her pretty features.

"Oh, Spencer, I'm so glad I could do that for you... How was the date?"

"O—Oh, it... It was fine. Not... I'm not seeing her anymore, but it wasn't bad... Just, um... There wasn't much of a connection, that's all."

In simpler words, She wasn't you.

But I couldn't tell her that, not when she was staring at me again with those sparkling eyes and her hand burning a hole through my pants with her electrifying touch, and most certainly not with Derek sitting right in front of us.

"Hey, whether it worked out or not, whatever you did to get him out there, it must have been one hell of a job," he said as if he'd been reading my thoughts.

Y/N gave me a knowing look, though, and suddenly I was transported to my car, feeling her hand explore my body as she showered me with filthy words and names that set me alight and cemented something about myself that I'd never known. Since then I had dreams about her, telling me how much of a 'good little whore' I was for her, and I always woke up from those dreams clutching her ring around my finger.

"Well, like I said, I'm glad I could help. Your boy here is one in a million."

It was awkward. This was all very extremely awkward. And even though I knew that, I still couldn't bring myself to stop it. I couldn't bring myself to stop staring at Y/N, soaking her all up like she was going to leave again at any given second. I couldn't stop thinking about her, our predicament, what we did and what I discovered about myself back then...

God, I was talking like we hadn't seen each other in years. It was only four months and yet I was acting like she'd left me alone after years of being together. This was ridiculous, right?

Thankfully Derek's phone rang, snapping us all out of the bubble of silence we'd been in for what seemed like forever.

"Uh, I'm gonna... get this. Be back in a few."

I expected Y/N to drop whatever act it was she had going on with me after he left the table, but her hand remained firmly on my knee. And then she moved a little closer, turning to me completely and tilting her head with a smile that only meant mischief.

"So... Looks like we have some catching up to do..."

***

I was practically giddy when Derek excused himself for a "Garcia Emergency". Though, I was concerned until he assured us that it wasn't anything bad, and by the look on his face as he quickly talked things over With Spencer, I got the feeling he was expecting his friend to 'have some fun' tonight. And that's what truly made me giddy.

We sat close to each other again, a few drinks between us and only a few booths away from the one we sat in the first time we met. If it weren't for the rock missing from my finger, I would have been convinced we'd actually transported back to that exact moment.

"You getting Deja vu, Doctor?" I asked with a smile, watching as he swallowed.

"Y—Yeah, kinda. It's great seeing you again, I... I really didn't think I would."

I laughed. "You know where I live, and you're an FBI agent... I'm pretty sure you could have saw me again if you wanted to."

"Well... Yeah, but I didn't want to be creepy or anything..."

"Trust me... If you randomly showed up at my door, I'd be anything but creeped out. I missed you..."

Spencer looked up at me for a moment, his eyes shifting before he seemed to relax. "You... did?"

"Of course... I haven't stopped thinking about you since we met. And I hope that's not creepy," I added in a laugh.

"No, not at all," he reassured with a nervous laugh of his own. "Actually, um... I've been thinking about you a lot, too..."

"Even on your date?"

I'd only meant it as a little joke, maybe another conversation starter, but at the mention he seemed... embarrassed.

"Oh, no, that was... That wasn't really... I—I only really did it to get Derek off my back, it—"

I rested a hand on his arm and smiled gently. "Hey, it's alright... I didn't really mean anything by that, I'm just... I meant it before, I'm really glad you did it. I know you said it didn't really work out, but did you have some fun at least?"

He laughed again, but this time there was hardly any humor in it. "Well, she wasn't you..."

I smiled a bit, but immediately following his words was a wide-eyed terror and instant regret. "Oh, I didn't... I'm sorry, I—"

"So, you did think about me on your date, huh?"

He froze then, presumably at the low, seductive drawl I blanketed over my words. His mouth slightly hung open, tongue flittering behind teeth as he tried to find the right words.

I smiled at him, and then he settled on, "Yeah. I did."

"It's not very polite to think of other girls while you're on a date, you know..." I made sure to let him know I was only teasing, and that I just wanted to know what his reaction would be.

Still, he surprised me when he said, "It's not my fault you're impossible to forget..."

He flashed me a smile then, and my stomach twisted deliciously at the little dash of confidence he'd grown in the past minute.

Maybe I could bring more out of him...

"Okay, fair... But it is your fault that you didn't come find me."

"Also fair... But... You're here now..."

Spencer inched closer to me, and I smiled, taking my bottom lip gently between my teeth before leaning in, too. "How about that..."

Our lips brushed for a second, so gentle it was like being tickled by a feather, and then he spoke again, his breath hot on my mouth. "I've... dreamt about seeing you again for so long now... Kissing you..."

"Me, too," I responded, bringing a hand down to graze the inside of his thigh. "Guess it's a good thing I'm a firm believer that dreams come true."

"Yeah," is all he said before he finally took the initiative to finally kiss me.

I sighed, melting into his touch and tightening the grip I had on his leg. Meanwhile his hands rested at my forearms, fingers dancing experimentally over my skin and making me tingle in their wake. And once I parted my lips, he took his shot and gently brought his tongue out to meet mine in a collision that quite frankly made me throb.

He'd been a decent kisser before, but... It's obvious he's had a little practice since then. Not that I'd have minded either way, but damn if this newfound experience didn't give me the most sinful idea.

I felt him whine as I pulled away, and that made everything even better.

"You wanna get out of here?" I said in the cheesiest way possible. But he didn't seem to mind.

In fact, he nodded rapidly and took a quick drink of his beer before following me out of the booth and towards the door.

***

Leading Spencer up and through the doorway of my house was probably the most electrifying 'date' experience I've had... well, ever. I'd been excited to sleep with people, sure, but with Spencer I found something greater. I wasn't entirely sure what that was, yet, but it was definitely good.

He reiterated that thought nicely once the door was closed and his hands were on my face, bringing my mouth to his again while I dropped by keys and haphazardly threw my phone and wallet on the side-table next to us in favor of gripping his shirt.

Just through his kisses I could tell how much he'd longed for this moment. I know he told me, and I'd certainly understood the feeling, but when it came down to actually acting it out in the flesh, I was much more in favor of that method of communication.

I gladly accepted his wordless confessions, through every groan and gentle graze of his tongue that he offered to me. And in return I gave him sharp tugs of his shirt and hair, conveying my urgency and the need to be closer to him.

When my legs started moving, his did, too, and we reluctantly pulled apart in favor of not tripping up the hard wooden staircase on the way to my bedroom. Though, I was thankful he was in just as much of a rush as I was, because otherwise I probably would have gotten embarrassed.

And that didn't happen easily.

I fumbled for the light switch once the door shut and our mouths connected once again, and I could have sworn it was like something out of a trashy TV show. The thought almost made me laugh, but I held it in in favor of moaning when Spencer lowered his hands to my ass and squeezed, pulling us closer together. I finally hit the light switch and then flow both of my arms to wrap around his neck and draw him even closer.

He was everywhere all at once, and it fueled me. I'd come to miss physical human interaction, but I hadn't realized how badly I craved it until he was right there, taking up all of my personal space and aiding me in creating this perfect recipe of frantic, glorious electricity.

It was going to kill me, and I would have gladly let it.

I experimentally rolled my hips forward and felt him gasp into me, and it wasn't long before he started growing hard.

Good... Now I could set the plan in motion.

"Remember what you told me?" I asked breathlessly before our heads switched sides and leaned in for more kisses.

In between them, he returned, "When?"

"The first time we met..." I trailed my lips down the column of his throat as I continued. "When you said you edged yourself..."

"O—Oh... Yeah, I remember."

"Mmm," I hummed, sucking a mark into his neck for the time being. As I did it, the grip he held on my ass tightened a bit, and I laughed lightly over his skin, slowly licking my way up to his ear. "I wanna see..."

The trembling he provided under my influence was a good sign. And then another came when he whispered. "Y—You want to see... me? Touching myself?"

"Mhmm..." I planted kisses all along his jaw before pulling back to look him in the eye, making sure he knew I was serious when I told him, "But only if that's okay with you."

He didn't even take a second to think, nodding rapidly once more and giving me a flash of a smile. "It's okay."

I hummed happily, leaning forward to give him one huge kiss, long and hard, before pulling away from him completely and nodding towards the bed. "Clothes off..."

Our hands got to work as soon as the words left my mouth.

And it wasn't until my shirt was on the ground and Spencer's eyes remained glued to my chest with trembling hands that I realized, even though we'd slept together before, our clothes had never actually come off. Tonight we were completely baring ourselves to each other, and that was somehow more intimate than the idea of taking his virginity was.

I reached out and grabbed his shirt, gently assisting him in removing it, and it must have snapped him out of wherever he'd gotten trapped because he shook his head and let out a nervous laugh, averting his eyes from me and staring at the ground.

"S–Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for," I reassured, throwing his shirt to the ground next to mine and bringing his hands to rest on my bare stomach, slowly sliding them up. "I like when you look at me..."

His eyes reached mine once again, breath hitching as I guided his hands to cup my breasts over the bra. "Well, I... I like looking at you."

I kissed him again, hoping to bring forth some familiarity to our current routine, and it worked like a charm. Our movements were slow and steady, each article of clothing joining the floor one by one until we were down to nothing but my underwear.

I led him to the bed then, breaking us apart and making him sit. Now that I was taller than him, I gripped his chin in my hand and tilted his head up to look at me.

"Lay back for me?"

He scooted further along the bed until finally he leaned back, his head resting nicely on my pillows. I climbed up after him, kneeling at his feet and bringing a hand down trace lines along the inside of his thigh. Meanwhile I looked him up and down, finally getting a decent look at his full, bare form.

"Ohh, so pretty... And I bet you're even prettier when you're touching yourself... You wanna start?"

He reached out for his dick in answer, wrapping a delicate hand around it and slowly stroking up and down as he looked up at me with the stars in his eyes. "Like this?"

"However you normally do it, baby. Just relax. Make yourself feel good..."

After a slight nod, his hand picked up a little speed. He swiped his thumb over the tip to gather some precum for lubrication, but as hot as that was, I had a better idea.

"Here, let me help," I offered with a smile, leaning down and bracing my hands on his knees. I let spit gather on the end of my tongue before allowing it to drip down and land right on the tip of his cock. The sound he let out, broken and dripping with want, sent a jolt of electricity through my blood, only amplified by how wet he sounded once he started moving his hand again.

I let my eyes roam all over, taking in every heave of his chest, the veins in his arm and hand as he worked himself, the soft fluttering of his eyes as he lost himself in the moment... At the risk of sounding absolutely cheesy, it truly was a magical sight. I felt entirely lucky that I got to see him again at all, and now like this, bare and vulnerable and exuding lust while I was left to my own devices.

All that to say, I hadn't realized I was touching myself as well, until a whimper came from my mouth, my clit gently throbbing with stimulation at the hands of... well, my hand.

Upon seeing me, Spencer let out a whine of his own, picking up speed with his hand and throwing his head back onto the pillow.

"Y/N..."

He wasn't addressing me, wasn't asking me anything at all... My name on his lips was more of a declaration, like some type of chant, a string of letters and syllables formed specifically to bring him closer to the edge he knew he'd have to resist falling from.

"You getting there, baby?"

"U—Uh huh..."

"You better hold it," I drawled lowly, bringing myself into the more strict persona I wanted to bring out tonight, given that's still something he was into. "Just like you promised."

After a few more hard strokes of his hand, Spencer leg to quickly, bringing his hand to rest on his chest as his mouth let out the most delicious whines and grunts of determination to keep it all in. Without the stimulation, I noticed his dick slightly twitching over his stomach, glistening and hard...

Fuck, if it wasn't the hottest fucking thing I'd ever experienced with my own eyes and ears...

I pulled my hand out of my underwear, too, still a little shocked that I hadn't realized before that I was doing it to myself and a little turned on at the fact that it had that big of an effect on him.

"I—I would have been able to go longer, but... But you were there, and you were... And I only ever have you in my head, not right in front of me..."

It was obvious that he was probably afraid he'd let me down somehow, and that was definitely not the case. So I leaned down and dragged my hands over his lower stomach, feeling inch of skin while my mouth came down to press featherlight kisses to the base of his dick. "Spence, that was hot as fuck... You really think of me when you do that?"

"Mhm," is all he offered, currently reveling in the way my tongue darted out to explore the lines of his cock.

"I think of you, too," I admitted, pausing to press a kiss to the underside of his tip. "When I touch myself... I think about how pretty you were the first time I called you a slut... Tell me, baby, you still like that?"

"God, Y/N, yes..."

I sucked gently on his tip now, watching as he watched me, his bottom lip occupied between his teeth and his eyes on the brink of closing.

He was getting close again. So I stopped, pulling off of him with a soft pop and smiling as I crawled up his body and planted a kiss to his cheek. My legs straddled his hips, and I got close to his ear.

"Tell me, what about this... other girl you went on a date with... Did you sleep with her?"

"Um... Y—yes..."

"I'm willing to bet she didn't make you feel half as good as I do..."

"She didn't..."

I smiled against his jaw, bringing one of my hands to stroke his hair. "Was she mean to you? Did she make you her dirty little whore?"

I could feel him let out a trembling breath as he answered, "No."

"That's right," I said softly, right before switching gears and tugging on his hair, pulling back to look in his eyes. "Because you're my dirty little whore."

His cock twitched along my ass at my words, and it made me smile. But before I could speak again, he did it first.

"I'm all yours, Y/N... No one else's..."

I couldn't help it then. His words, our position, the needy look in his eyes as he confessed this to me... All of it was enough to make me snap.

So I leaned in and kissed him, hard. My hands tangled in his hair while his flew to my waist, sliding down to play with the hem of my underwear as his tongue slipped into my mouth and against my own with ease. I swallowed each whine with the greatest pleasure, my hips involuntarily grinding down and spreading the evidence of my arousal along the fabric of my panties. I wondered then if he could feel how wet I was, how much I wanted him.

I didn't have to wonder for long though, because he slipped one of his hands around front and dipped into said fabric, finding how wet I was and groaning into my mouth at the feel of it.

"You've been dying to get another try at this pussy, haven't you?" I whispered into his mouth.

Unsurprisingly, I was met with a whine in return. "Uh huh... I missed you so much..."

I ground down into his hand, nipping at his lips a little before giving my next demand.

"Then prove it."

Rather than fingering me like I expected him to, Spencer rolled over and straddled my legs, tearing my panties down and leaving me with a smile.

"I love the confidence you've grown, baby boy... Proves how dedicated you are... to being the best little slut you can be."

"Yes, Y/N," he responded, leaning down and kissing the inside of my thigh. "I wanna be good for you... Let me show you, please..."

"Show me..."

His tongue came in contact with my pussy, and it immediately sent my head flying back into the pillows, a low whine escaping my throat. He flicked it over my clit expertly a few times before going down and licking a broad strip up the entire area. Vibrations flittered along his path through his groans, and just hearing how much he enjoyed it had me clenching the sheets for stability.

"Ohh, what a good boy," I praised, bringing one of my hands to stroke his hair back. "Who's my good little whore?"

He grumbled into me, but I tugged at his hair.

"Say it."

He pulled away briefly then, still in contact with my pussy as he breathed out, "I'm your good little whore..." And then he promptly got back to work, devouring me with a hungry precision that made me laugh.

"Needy, too, I see... So desperate for that cunt..."

"Yes, " I heard him mumble into me. He repeated it a few more times, chanting it as his tongue flicked through me and tasted every last drop of my impending orgasm.

I sat up a little and held his head to me, his tongue moving at a quicker, more relentless pace. My stomach started to twist and my legs clenched, holding Spencer firmly between my legs as my hips rolled forward and met his every movement. Moans fell sweetly off my lips with every second, getting higher and higher until I finally held myself still and let the high take over. His tongue drew out one of the sharpest orgasms I'd ever had, the fervor he delivered making me see stars for a solid twenty to thirty seconds before it finally subsided and my muscles started to relax.

"Fuck," I breathed, almost whining when he removed his mouth from me and just kneeled there, studying my form as I tried to catch my breath. "Get up here," I asked more than demanded, though it might have been hard to tell what with my head spinning.

Spencer climbed over my body and I pulled his face down into a warm, wet kiss that had me tasting myself and growing wet again at the taste. I pulled away then, looking into his eyes and playing with his hair.

"I can't believe you didn't come see me sooner... Depriving me of that pretty fucking mouth..."

He kissed me again briefly, whining into my mouth before I continued. "But no... You were busy going on dates..."

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he said, kissing my cheek softly, over and over as his lips made their way down to my neck. "I'm so sorry, I... I wanted to see you, I just..."

"I know, I know," I cooed, closing my eyes and relishing in the feel of his lips on my skin. "But tonight you're gonna make up for lost time, got it?"

"Yes... Yes, I'll do whatever you want..."

I hummed, bringing his head back up to meet his gaze, and my thumb stroked over his bottom lip. "I want you to put that pretty cock to good use and fuck me like the desperate little slut I know you are..."

I kissed him then, gasping out once he shifted his hips and entered me slowly— I knew he was going to get to it quickly, but I guess I'd underestimated his need to please me.

The sentiment had me curling with want, more of it coming when he bottomed out inside me and trembled. Really, I could feel him shaking as he started to pull out and then back in, setting a steady pace that would surely become more erratic once I started talking to him again.

"Shit..." Spencer cursed, shifting up on his arms for more leverage as he steadily drilled into me. "I m—missed this... Missed you..."

"I know, baby, I know... I missed you, too... And you know what else?"

I drifted one of my hands down in between us, spreading out my fingers so that his cock fit nicely between them as he fucked me. The added friction of my fingers had him whining out, dropping his head down so that his ear was right by my mouth.

I whispered. "So did my pussy... So you better fuck her good..."

The sudden brutal velocity in which he slammed his hips against mine felt like a strike of lightning, and the loud groan he let out against my neck was the thunder. Everything shifted then, Spencer lifting himself up and holding onto my legs as he drilled into me at full force, his body glistening with exertion and my own succumbing to his wind.

"Yeah, that's it," I cooed through a laugh of pure pride. "That's a good fucking whore... Giving me that cock like I own it..."

"Y—You... do," he stuttered through a broken whine. He was getting close again, and I knew just the thing to do the trick.

I reached my hand up to hold his neck, not applying any pressure, but just holding as I forced his eyes down to look at me. "That's right... That slutty cock is mine... Now give it to me..."

The end of my sentence was punctuated with a sharp cry out as another orgasm tore through me. I shouted Spencer's name into the abyss as He fucked me through it and started twitching inside me, signaling his end as well. And the added warmth from his cum as it coated my insides well and truly marked me as his, despite the words we'd just exchanged.

I belonged to him just as much as he did to me, and I wondered if he knew that. If he knew just how much he inhabited my every thought.

I wanted him to know that I was practically infatuated with him.

But that conversation could wait until after we were... settled down.

He was still inside me as he slumped forward, laying his head on my chest and rubbing lines into my forearm.

"You okay?" I asked gently, combing through his hair with my fingers.

"Most definitely... Just... tired."

I smiled, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "You're welcome to stay here for the night..."

He was silent for a long while, almost so long that I thought he'd actually fallen asleep. But then he said, "Right here? With you?" and my heart soared.

"Of course."

Truthfully, I'd have let him stay forever.

But when I opened my eyes the next morning, the other side of the bed was cold, and his body was nowhere to be found.

***

Dear Y/N,

I'm sorry for leaving you alone last week. I know you must be a little hurt and confused, but if you aren't, then just forget I ever said anything.

Nonetheless, I regretted leaving you behind last time without at the very least sending you a letter, so I hope this one finds you well. After all, you have shown me experiences I never could have imagined enjoying as much as I did, so I should thank you for that.

But that's not all that this letter is for.

I also want to invite you out to dinner some time. I know this might be a little unconventional, but given how we met and also how we reunited, I figured this would be a fun, romantic way to ask you out. I understand if you don't feel that way given that I've more or less abandoned you twice now, but I promise it was all for good reason.

If you'd like to talk more, about anything I've disclosed in this letter, I've attached my phone number below, otherwise I'd love to hear back from you. I know this sounds strange, but I've been dying to know what your handwriting looks like. I bet it's pretty, like you.

Once again, I am truly sorry for leaving you behind without a word, but I want a chance to make it up to you. Please say you'll reach out. Otherwise, I know where to find you if you'd rather I make some cheesy romantic comedy—esque gesture of affection that either makes you fall in love with me or hate me.

Yours, Spencer Reid

***

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @g0lden-cth @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @b-a-utiful @jareauswifey @big-galaxy-chaos

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get to it!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut

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saikagerights · 4 years ago

Text

Lay Me Down to Rest - Entry for Day of MirSan 2021

Hello there! And welcome to my first Inuyasha fanfiction, as apart of the @dayofmirsan event.

I initially was planning to be an observer of the event, but sudden inspiration struck at 1am during my nightly routine of falling asleep to Inuyasha. Rewatching the Monkey Sprite episode is interesting for many reasons. For one, there was an unhealthy amount of filler added into the anime adaptation of this story-line, which gave hit-or-miss comedy. But the most important thing is that Miroku and Sango are mostly unaccounted for in this story-line, which gives shippers like me an opportunity to write some “off-screen development” for them. And though the anime does give us an idea, I’m afraid that Miroku’s indifference and frustrated edge in the scene feels a bit off, so I decided to add a bit of a bit of context. Consider this a bit of a fusion between the anime in manga, though the scene is based off of the anime. Also I was very liberal with my use of English/Japanese dub terminology. I watched the anime in English, but switched over to the manga to replace the Final Act, so it’s a bit inconsistent.

I’ve been observing this fandom from afar ever since I started getting into Inuyasha back in December, and though I wanted to try and engage with it, it seemed very daunting given this fandom’s age and organization. But I’m very grateful that I was given the chance to participate in this event, and lucky that inspiration struck me at the right time. I’ve really been looking forward to seeing the works that come out of this event, and I hope you enjoy my contribution.

And thanks for the mods for allowing me to share my work with you fellow fans

InuYasha and it’s properties are owned by creator Rumiko Takahashi and Sunrise

Read on AO3

Sango tailed the monk as he led their investigation. The villagers they had asked so far had no knowledge of the wicked demon, only of the pestering monkeys that were ravaging their fields. Her companion simply nodded, thanking them for their time and promising that the Inugami would save their village. They soon found themselves at the outskirts of the village on an empty patch of land outside the forest, save for one tall tree. Sango found his behavior during their search to be strange, especially as he now paused at the tree, leaving his Shakujo leaning against its trunk.

Was he just as stumped as she was? Would this reprieve be a chance for them to rethink their approach?

“Why have we stopped here, Miroku?” She questioned. “Aren’t we supposed to search for Naraku’s whereabouts?”

Her befuddlement heightened as he laid his body to rest in the grass underneath the shade of the tree with a sigh, both hands pillowing his head. His intentions then became clear at the sight of his eyelids slipping shut.

��How might we do that when we have neither Inuyasha’s nose or Kagome’s detection?” His tone reflected his relaxed poise. “I merely said that so that Inuyasha would be more inclined to help those villagers.”

Her head tilted downward towards the monk’s resting face. “I understand wanting to help, but do you honestly think that Inuyasha dealing with those monkeys will get us any closer to finding him?

“Not particularly.” He punctuated the off-handed remark with a yawn, overstating his disinterest. “But enough of that... Why don’t you join me here?”

She stood awestruck at his bold request. He lays there while their friends were helping this poor village and now he asks her to do the same? If Inuyahsa were to find out, he’d surely have more pressing things to worry about than the food security of the village.

“I don’t think it would be wise, considering your flippant lies.”

The man remained still, no sign of concern disrupting his posture.

“If you changed back into your battle attire before our return, they’d never suspect a thing.” He ignored her statement, a peaceful smile casually appearing on his face. She instantly recognized this move. He was fully convinced he would get his way, the sleazy crook. “Besides, I’m sure sleep has been as kind to you as it has been to me as of late.”

Although it was usually hard to detect amongst his manner of speaking, the monk’s sarcasm was not missed by the slayer. She knew very well that Naraku’s sudden disappearance had their whole group on edge, including herself. And while sleep had become its own battle, the desperate investigations of their enemy have left her distracted from everything else. Sleep meant the rest needed to fight again, but it also meant time alone with one’s most intimate thoughts. What always plagued her mind nowadays were things she’d rather not willingly engage. Finding Naraku should be her biggest concern now, but she indulged her companion despite what she would consider was her better judgement.

The monk had a particular talent for steering her away from rationality.

“Knowing your pervy ways, I’m sure you’d try and sneak a peek at me”

The monk could’ve never noticed the sneer on her face behind his still-closed eyes. The same smile was plastered on his face as well, despite her accusation. He really did enjoy giving her grief, didn’t he...

“Trust me, my dear. I have no intention of moving from this spot for a while. Or at least until Inuyasha comes for my head.”

“Then I guess you wouldn’t mind if I left Kilala here to guard this spot until I returned.”

He chuckled at that. “I don’t mind at all. I’m sure she’d love to watch me lie here, right Kilala?”

Sango looked to the nekomata, who merely chuffed in response. She was wary of Kilala’s strange trust in the monk at times, but she was sure that the demon would keep an eye on him in case he tried something funny.

Miroku took this as the perfect time to reveal his indigo eyes to her.

“Please, my intentions are more honorable than what they seem, believe me.”

There it was, that gentle voice of his used to convince her of his authenticity. The same breathy tones that sent her heart racing and her stomach in somersaults. She knew Miroku was confident in his charms, but she also liked to think that he was fully aware of this game they played. She only came to grips with it recently, but there was something going on.

They’d fight, they’d talk it through, and just when she thought he would try to make a move, that damn hand of his would find the wrong place to caress. Or it would be when she found herself grieving once more, and he could comfort her with his words alone. How did he always know what to say that made everything clear and could heal every fiber of her being, but also had a hand that never failed to do the exact opposite? He was a truly frustrating man, but he was the only one she ever considered more than just that.

But did he really know? That was a puzzle Sango couldn’t solve. It wasn’t as if anything meaningful resulted from these escapades. Afterwards, they would act as if nothing happened, and he would return to his typical flirtatious ways with any woman that entered his line of sight. So Sango liked to think that Miroku fully knew that he was toying with her feelings. That way it made it easier to lower her expectations and resent them despite Kagome’s not-so-subtle prodding.

When she became abruptly aware that her eyes had been locked on him for too long, she made her hasty retreat, hoping he didn’t catch her bright red flush in the shade of the tree.

“This man will be the death of me,” she softly cursed herself as soon as she knew she left his earshot.

_______________________________________________________________

Upon her return to their little “spot,” she was greeted by an alert Miroku. His body was now fully upright and turned towards her approaching form.

“You’ve accepted my invitation, I see”

“I thought you were trying to sleep”

“I still am, but I’d figured it would help if I got a quick glimpse of your beauty before-hand.”

She rolled her eyes at his shameless attempt. “You really are troublesome, you know that?”

“You wound me, dear Sango!” He unceremoniously flopped back into his previous position, his left hand patting the spot next to him. “You are free to lie beside me if you wish.”

Without the need for consideration, she silently opted to sit against Kilala’s curled form, stretching her legs in front of her. He managed to convince her to relax alongside him, but she had no intention of allowing herself to get too comfortable around him in the likely case the monk’s wandering hands wandered once more. He sighed audibly at her decision, but allowed his eyes to close again without any further word. He could act like a child all he wanted, but she would not budge.

She watched the man for a while, observing his state of rest. She could tell as much that he hadn’t fallen asleep just yet by all of his idle noises and the way he kept trying to steal a glance in her direction.

“Can’t sleep?”

She hadn’t even tried to close her eyes just yet, as she was still trying to grasp their current situation. Why was he so insistent on sleeping if he was just going to try and stare at her the entire afternoon? Why did he lie to Inuyasha in the first place if this was how they would spend their time? With all these questions moving around in her head, she might as well ask for the most basic of them.

“Miroku? Why do you lie and steal as casually as you do? I always thought that monks were pure-hearted.”

“What a wonderful question!” He exclaimed. With such enthusiasm, she was almost afraid of the answer she would soon receive from him. “I’ve been traveling on my own for so long, and it’s quite difficult to acquire wealth in such unfortunate times. I wish to give aid to those in need, but I also believe that it never hurts to help yourself as well.” He settled for an even tone and let his eyes slip open once more.

“And you are right, It is true that holy-people such as myself are meant to be free of sin. But, I was born tainted by the hole that resides in my hand.” His voice tapered off at his pause, the newfound silence growing thick with each passing moment. His sound returned to him, soft and low, as if it were only meant for his ears alone.

“It doesn’t matter how much I devote myself to my faith to any idol or deity. My curse is hell-bent on deciding my fate....”

But we are trying to stop Naraku! To free you from the Kazaana. You can always change your path after that! She immediately contested, perhaps a little too loudly, but she didn’t care. How dare he speak so little of himself and avoid her gaze as he did it?! She refused to accept his belittling statements.

“It is very hard for me to see a future for myself at this time, I’m afraid…” He brought his head up to look at her. A flash of fear ran through his eyes before he looked down once more. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t speak like that.”

He’s afraid…

And he had every right to be.

“Please don’t apologize.”

He never showed it in front of their group, but behind that calm and smooth exterior remained a man trembling under the weight of his own mortality. He was a man after all, and men were never to show what made them most vulnerable. But with how much he gives to help others, it feels unfair for him to just allow himself to suffer inside as he did.

If they understood each other as well as he liked to claim, then she knew he hated the restless feeling they had knowing nothing of where their wicked nemesis resided, surely plotting something to exploit the fears he caused within their hearts. Knowing that her poor brother remained in that demon’s grasp sickened her to her core, and sitting around with no leads made it hard to lay dormant as they did now.

“I get it. I am just as frustrated as you… About Kohaku-”

“-You don’t need to go any further” He interrupted her thoughts, I didn’t mean to remind you of your pain like that.”

“Miroku-”

“-Please,” he sharply cut in once more, hoarseness settling into his throat. He must’ve noticed it as well, as he cleared his throat soon after. “let’s just try to find rest while we still can.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly trying to force unconsciousness upon himself. Sango relented, trying to relax her body, idly stroking Kilala as she watched the man slowly succumb to rest. It was surreal to see him struggle like this when it seemed like meditation was second nature to him. She decided on trying for sleep once his breathing evened out and all the remaining tension left his face.

________________________________________________________________

Miroku wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but he could tell from the shadows before him had grown considerably when his eyes peered open. He turned his head to see Sango now curled up against Kilala, her face all but buried in her demon companion’s fur. He slowly rose to his feet, slightly stretching as he made an intake of his surroundings. It looked as if the sun would soon begin it’s retreat from the sky. The monk knew the rest was necessary, but he definitely didn’t look forward to another predictively sleepless night.

One more glance at Sango’s sleeping form was enough to convince him to approach her, neglecting his Shakujo to silence his movements. He knew, probably better than anybody, of the threat imposed by the slayer’s attuned senses. He also knew the danger of being caught if she awoke to his gawking. Unfortunately it was a risk he was willing for one small fleeting moment to stare at her.

What an idiot he had been for making her sympathize with his life. Even worse that it reminded her of her own grief. He was happy to indulge her curiosity, but when he looked up at her, he turned cowardly at what he saw. It wasn’t fear, or sadness over his grim fate. It was the very same fire that lit behind her eyes in battle.

She was prepared to fight for him, it seemed…

He dare not think that she would go any farther for that. He was not worth her death. In fact, nothing was worth her death. The honor of her clan was at stake, and her life was essential in carrying on their legacy. One measly itinerant monk with a fated death should be worthless in her eyes, even if he wanted nothing more than to keep her alive.

Even if he wanted more than anything to see a future with her.

He turned away from her, returning to his spot in a now seated position. The monk had half a mind to wake the woman, but decided against it. Every waking moment for her was its own battle, after all. She needed all the rest she could get. And he’d gladly wait for her until that battle resumed, and fight with her at every step.

And if dying for her now meant he could spend the next life by her side, then he would welcome death with open arms.

“I hope this woman is the death of me,” he softly wished before all else melted away to his own meditation.

______________________________________________________________

Yeah I realized I took some liberties here with how Miroku and Sango’s relationship was at this point. This episode takes place after the Temptress of the Mist and Demon-Head castle, but far behind Mt. Hakurei, so what was going on with them hadn’t really become a “pattern” just yet. And Miroku had just comforted her in her grieving state for the first time right before that. Sango wasn’t deep enough to say he was her reason for living, so that’s why I kept her on the fence and didn’t have her feel too disappointed, because that’s what came after Mt Hakurei.

I’m a sucker for long winded perspective changes, especially here with all the parallels I draw between them. Some of my best lines were written here, especially the ending line. My GOD. I swear, I wrote that and everything made sense. I said “yes” over and over again, it was so good.

Also can you tell whose voice I’m talking about when describing Miroku’s? The answer is Koji Tsujitani. I always knew about Tsujitani’s delivery that makes Miroku sound truly “fake” but I noticed rather recently how he would add so much breath, especially in serious scenes. On the other hand, Kirby Morrow played the character down and deep in his throat, which isn’t bad when talking about his overall performance, but I decided to favor Tsujitani’s performance in this instance.

(I’m a classically trained singer and a music education major, so I’m a nut for analyzing voice acting. I have respect for both of these men may they rest in peace.)

Thanks again for the opportunity, and I hope to write more for this series.

-Saikage

#inuyasha #mirsan #mirsan day #dayofmirsan2021 #Miroku #Sango

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stitch1830 · 4 years ago

Note

I’m bored. Are you bored? I see you still have the prompt list pinned. Wanna write the prompt “are you blushing?” For Taang of course 💛

I got carried away and this kind of started no where and ended no where but LET’S GO. Also pls keep asking stuff. I’m so bored lmao.

......

Taang - Fluff - #27 “Are you blushing?”

Toph Beifong liked Aang.

Not just “Oh what a great pal, Aang is,” like, but liked like. And it was infuriating, because he was an airhead. Why did she fall for the airhead? It wasn’t like he was that special. He was just a kind, considerate, brave, strong, memorable, optimistic, and free-spirited man. He also took her jabs and jokes in full-stride, wasn’t afraid to fight back (not anymore at least), and never held a grudge; with her, at least. He gave her the freedom she yearned for when she was a kid, the ability to fully showcase her earthbending abilities, and valued her opinion even though she wasn’t technically the oldest or the smartest in the group. Aang respected her and was her literal best friend and she couldn’t imagine spending time away from him anymore.

Oh. That was why.

Aang was too good for the world, and Toph Beifong knew it. And she fell for him because of it.

And now her emotions were all in whack, and she kept doing stupid things around the airhead like stuttering or acting flustered or embarrassed.

Not what the earthbender wanted, to put it lightly.

So, Toph tried to avoid feelings and embarrassing encounters to the best of her ability whenever they spent an extended period of time together (which was a lot more frequent than she’d like to admit nowadays).

But sometimes avoiding the issue was not an option. Today was one of those days.

She was travelling with the Avatar and meeting up with the rest of the group, but Toph and Aang had to go to the docks to greet them. Wooden docks. Where she couldn’t see and would need to hang onto Aang for support.

Great.

Aang stopped her before they reached the wood and extended his arm. “We’re by the docks now, Toph. Would you like a hand?”

“Sure, Twinkletoes,” she grumbled. “Fuckin’ hate wood.”

Aang chuckled. “I know, I know, but it won’t be for long and I won’t let go of you.”

Toph sighed, trying to fight the warmth that was rising in her cheeks and her rapidly increasing heart rate. “I know you won’t, Twinkles.” She grabbed his arm and they walked along the pier.

Aang frowned. Toph seemed agitated for some reason. And while he was no truth seer or an expert in reading people, Toph’s pulse seemed higher than usual. “Are you okay, Toph? We won’t be on the docks for long and—”

“—I’m fine, Twinkletoes.”

“Are you sure? If you want, we can just wait for them to meet us.”

Toph shook her head and tightened her grip on Aang’s arm. “No. We’re already halfway there. Let’s just—Agh!”

Toph tripped over something that was on the docks, but was quickly caught by Aang before she could completely fall over. Her arm caught his bicep, and her face landed on his firm chest. Aang’s free arm wrapped around her back and held her in place firmly. For an airbender, he seemed pretty unmovable in that moment.

The close proximity made the heat rise in her cheeks and she was completely flustered.

“Are you okay?” Aang asked, his voice laced with concern.

“I’m—I’m uh, good. Thanks.” When he didn’t let go of her immediately, Toph added, “You can, uh, let me go now.”

“Oh, right.” Aang helped Toph back to standing, and he noticed her cheeks were turning rather red.

Part of him wanted to help her save face and ignore the obvious change in shade her cheeks made, but the other part…

Well, he couldn’t resist teasing her. He gasped, “Toph are—are you blushing??”

Somehow her face grew redder. “NO, Twinkletoes. I’m just.. Just—”

“—Just blushing?” he smirked.

Toph punched him in the gut. “You’re the worst travel companion.”

Aang had the audacity to laugh. “It’s okay! Here, I know a good remedy for blushing.”

Before she could protest, Aang bent down and kissed Toph on the cheek.

And Toph turned the color of fire flakes.

She was so mad because she couldn’t help herself from becoming so flushed! Toph groaned and slammed her head into Aang’s chest to hide her face. Aang just chuckled (albeit a more pained chuckle if anything) and said, “It’s okay, Toph! I like it when you blush. You’re cute when you’re all flustered, you know.”

Hmph.

Toph felt like she lost this battle, even though there was no battle to be lost. She just felt defeated, and if there was one thing Toph Beifong hated, it was losing.

Hmmm…

Two could play the teasing game, she supposed… If she wasn’t mistaken, she noticed the airbender’s heart rate pick up just a bit when he helped her back up…

Well, there was one way to find out.

She lifted her head from his chest, mustered up all the courage she had left, and pulled him down into a fierce kiss on the lips for just a second. And when they parted, his heart rate skyrocketed.

Toph smirked and patted his cheeks. They felt suspiciously warm and her smugness returned in full swing.

“Are you blushing Twinkletoes?” she asked.

“I… uh… Well, you see—”

“—It’s okay, Aang! I like it when you blush… You’re cute when you’re all flustered, you know…” she teased. Toph held her arm up and then asked, “You mind showing me the rest of the way to go, Twinkles?”

Aang nervously rubbed the back of his head, but wrapped his arm around Toph’s.

Needless to say, the pinkish/red tint of their faces never truly went away when they met up with their friends, but neither discussed their flustered state. And while all were very suspicious of the two, no one said a word for fear of retribution.

......

Send me a prompt to write about. Let me know type (Fluff, Angst, General), and ship (ATLA).

#taang #atla #toph #aang #toph and aang #quote writing prompt #part 2 #my asks #thanks for the ask!#smh so bored #but your asks are helping me get through Monday lol #got that case of the Mondays if ya know what I mean #smh #it be like that #send me asks!#about ANYTHING #idc

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abizarreyodelingincident · 5 years ago

Text

Linked Universe: Regrets

“Although I accepted life as the hero, I could not convey the lessons of that life to those who came after... At last, I have eased my regrets.”

Twilight had never forgotten those words. He had carried them with pride. Used them when his hands faltered. Remembered the strength that had been taught to him. Swords without courage meant nothing. With the lessons of the Hero's Shade, Twilight struck down Hyrule's greatest enemy for good.

(He thought. But there would be another after him, long after, but one nonetheless, and he would suffer greatly from the shadow of Hyrule's first enemy.)

Nowadays, it's a white lie that haunts his nights.

“Link... I... See you later.”

He's learned when things aren't meant to be. And he loves his fellow heroes. Wouldn't trade them for peaceful days wandering his Hyrule. He loves them. Like brothers. Like another father. But he knows it can't last. Whenever there is a meeting, a parting is sure to follow. And theirs... through time and space... there will be no reunion after they've completed this quest.

He should shield his heart better, but they slip past too easily for that. One day, they'll go their separate way. He can't change that. Still, any time he looks at the old man, his heart squeeze and he just wants to help. To save him. He can't.

Is it like that for anyone else? Does Hyrule hide something like this from Legend behind all his sweet smiles and his eagerness to learn? Does he also think of a nameless grave by a tree? Maybe a grand mausoleum, because it's Legend, and he's earned at least this much, to hear him speak of his many trials?

He smirks to himself at the idea, but it slips soon enough.

Four? No one's quite sure where he fits in the timeline, but the best guess is 'early'. Wind? No, he's said the legends exist, but the hero never showed. Warriors thinks it's the timelines diverging when Time returned to his youth to prevent Ganon's rise. He's another odd one out. Knowing a bit of everything and everyone's legacy. Does Warriors know how it'll end for me?Wild certainly doesn't.

The truth is Twilight knows that Time will never be fully content despite Malon, despite a future as a father, and he hates the fact that he cannot save his mentor. Cannot prevent that regret from taking root in him. He's only ever known that he hated leaving his Hyrule defenseless, with no one to learn from the hardships he was shoved into as a child.

Twilight hates it so much. Sometimes, Zant's pendant pulsed with the dark emotions that want to choke him up. He almost wonders if there isn't something right in the ranting of the old usurpers. The Goddesses were so many things, but kind?

It's hard to remember their blessings when the people you love most see their fate as cursed. When Hyrule is doomed without that pain.

“Green rupee for your thoughts?” Warriors ask, watching the sun set over the horizon.

“I know I'm country folk, but we ain't that cheap, Captain,” Twilight drawls.

Warriors shrugs, then pulls his sword out to run a whetstone over its edge. “Well, I'm broke. My queen and I hadn't thought it'd stretch out over this long.”

The thought sobers Twilight, who is decidedly not looking dusk painting the sky like a bonfire. “Miss her?” he says, quieter than usual.

Warriors' glance is a bit sharper than warranted, but he makes no comment about it. “Certainly,” he replies easily. “She was one of the few... mhmm, wait, did I never tell you about my situation back in my era?”

He sees the non-sequitur and accepts it with a sigh of relief. Sitting down by the same tree, he settles just close enough for them to touch shoulders. “No, but I sense this is a long story.”

“It's the perfect length, thank you,” Warriors haughtily counters. “So, it all begins roughly ten years ago-”

Twilight snorts, and pushes his brother roughly. Warriors is agile enough he slips back into place without dropping the sword or the stone, radiating smug triumph.

In the end, he joins Warriors on first watch just to distract himself from his thoughts.

***

Lon Lon Ranch is one of his favorite place to visit. Stepping inside feels like being served a slice of Ordon on a platter. It's a piece of home, without the awkwardness that comes from the odd looks here and there. Unspoken questions about every little way he's changed.

Twilight shakes his head. What's he doing? Somewhat forcefully, he pulls back the sleeves of his tunic and spits in his hands. He's got some work to do, and it's not Legend (who is egging Warriors more than he's shoveling) or Wind (who is having the time of his life learning how to ride with Time's Epona) that'll finish the chores for him.

“Here, sweetheart.” Malon holds out a waterskin to him and a towel. “Don't forget to rest and drink every once in a while. With this sun, it's not healthy to neglect it.”

He accepts gratefully, swallowing a mouthful of cool water first. “I will, Ma'am.”

“Oh, hush with that. It's Malon for family,” she corrects him easily, and he ducks his head, pleased. “And I'll be watching you, sweetheart. The Goddesses know my Link's not one to recognize his limits.”

Time straightens and leans against the handle of his spade. “Now, now, honey, you know I'm a reasonable man.”

“Did I tell you about the time my clever husband decided to renovate the ba-!”

Malon lets out a fake shriek when Time grabs her with his dirt-covered hands. Pretends to fight back. She's not fooling him or her husband. They've both witnessed her handling the cattle. It's not from Time's side of the family that Twilight inherited the strength.

(They're the type of couple that teases each other constantly. He wonders what it would have been like if Midna...)

There's something a little different about Malon today. Something under her skin. Like she was holding on to a secret with both hands and it's threatening to explode the whole time. He wouldn't call her nervous. Excited, though? Yes.

He finds out at dinner.

They've just finished another two course meal courtesy of Malon and Wild when she pulls her husband aside during dessert. It gets a glance or two, but the conversation keeps going on the topic of stupidest things they've ever done. Since it's Wild's turn though, Twilight can still focus on the married couple by the sink.

(It's a sad day when he can name more for Wild than Wild remembers. They've got diverging definitions of what constitutes a 'stupid' thing. He will forever argue against the monster masks, especially the lynel one.)

“I was waiting for a chance to tell you in person. I saw a wisewoman last week.”

“What for...?” Time asks, and he sounds a little anxious for once, hands hovering closer to his wife.

Coy, Malon bites her lips and glances at Twilight. Time has to turn to see where, exactly, she's looking, and his breath hitches when he realizes. His mouth twitch as he grabs both her hands, focused on her with such intensity she giggles.

“You mean...?”

She breaks into a grin, nods and whispers-yells: “Yes! We're going to be parents, Link.”

The kiss he lands on her lips is indecent enough to attract whistles from some of the others, who seem to be clueing in to the excitement in the room. When those two come apart, a pleasant blush colors their cheeks, and he tells her, over and over that he loves her. When he's had his fill, he whirls around to face them and their cheering.

“Boys!” Time calls out, exuberant, absolutely unguarded. “Boys! I'm going to be a father!”

The roof, improbably, resists the eruption of screams. Time's pure joy is contagious and it's the best news they've got since starting this quest. Congratulations rain on the happy couple.

“Someone's going to have competition, huh?” Legend nudges Twilight's ribs, wagging eyebrows.

Normally, Twilight would be flattered that his bond with Time is that obvious. Normally, he'd grab Legend and give him a noogie for his insolence. Make him cry 'uncle'. The classic big brother behavior he's used to. But he barely hears the words as it is, his mind bogged down by a sudden realization.

He stalls.

He's a second delayed in joining in the congratulations, behind Sky and Hyrule who are a little less physical in their affections. They've formed a circle around their leader and his wife, offering their best wishes, joking, patting Time on the back, kissing Malon's cheeks.

And then it's his turn.

Twilight remembers to breath. Offers his hand first.

“Oh, come here, you!” she swats away his hand and forces him into a hug that's warm, soft.

“You'll make a wonderful mother, Malon.”

Her expression shifts slightly, more of a knowing smirk, and he can see her laughter in her eyes. 'Oh, now you tell me.'

It's impossible for him not to smile back.

And below that elation, the flare of hope in his guts, is a heart stopping dread.

***

The next few battles are some of the worst Twilight had to struggle through. The enemies' number swell. Their ambushes turn elaborate with unheard of combinations of monsters that never coexisted naturally. The puppeteer behind them has tightened the strings, and Twilight has trouble keeping his head above water when every second he looks away, he fears his mentor (father) will die.

It's sheer experience and a heaping dose of help from his companions that ensure he's not dead. And even then...

“There, good as new,” Hyrule proclaims, slapping Twilight's bicep for good measure. “Now how about you don't pull a Wild and drop your weapon next time? We're counting on you to teach him caution, not the opposite.”

“Heard you, 'Rule!” Wild protests from where he's helping Four hobble back to them.

“Great, because we all saw that thing with the peahat.”

“It was the only way!”

And here goes the bickering, Twilight huffs. Wild and Hyrule get along like a house on fire, which means that it's warm and toasty for a while until everything collapse into ashes for a bit. Then they rebuild it better and stronger than before with perfect coordination. It's impressive, honestly, how they both push in the same direction without a second thought.

At least this doesn't look like he'll need to turn into a wolf to fetch them in a forest on the other side of a mountain like last time (he's still bitter about it, a mountain?).

“Pup,” Time's voice jolts him back into awareness. His mentor's standing right behind him. “Come with me for a minute?”

For a second, he hesitates. He likes to imagine a thousand explanations for it, but he already knows the one. Sky shot him the odd look during the fight. Saw him sloppier than usual. And Time keeps an even closer look on all of them.

The clearing is just far enough to be away from prying eyes, though not far enough they can't hear the others if they pay attention. Both sides could hear and rush at the first sign of trouble. It's a good place for a talk.

“Twilight,” Time begins, voice brimming with concern, “what's wrong?”

“It's...”

Silence lingers between them, with all the things Twilight can't say.

“Does it have anything to do about Malon's pregnancy?” Time asks, and Twilight cringes. “Ah. I figured as much. Are you bothered?”

Twilight fights the flashback to one of those evenings Rusl took him aside for a fatherly talk. He feels about as small as he did back then too. “No, of course not! It's... before, when I met Malon and saw you two didn't have kids, I realized you were safe. Every one of us is risking his life on this quest, but I could hold onto the idea that you'd live through, that it was impossible that you didn't because I'm here.”

“Were you not worried for my safety before this, Pup?” Time teases, a full on smirk on his face.

Twilight's face burns. “I, no, that's not it at all! It's just... Goddesses, I'm being silly.”

The hand that rests on his shoulder feels solid. Grounding. Like Time means to give him back some of that certainty through sheer force of will.

Twilight's relieved that it works on him.

“Pup, I promise I have no intention of dying and leaving Malon to raise our little hellion all on her own. I wouldn't do that to her.”

“Oh, right, the poor gal,” Twilight hears himself reply.

Time blinks. Then hooks his arm around Twilight's neck, an unholy glint in his good eye. “A youngster like you's too ignorant to mock your elders like this. But I suppose I should teach you.”

***

Time's few additions to the prank war ongoing inside their camps gives Twilight chills.

But he joins in the laughs with the rest of them.

And he almost forgets.

***

They have a lead on the object of their quest.

A location they must investigate. No guarantee, but reports seem promising.

It's hard not to get swept right in by his brothers' enthusiasms. He's found more family through this quest than he had ever hoped to get, but it's also been a mess of ambushes, lost directions and insufferable assholes (some of which, he loves because they're his pack, his siblings, his dad).

“I'll cut the fucker's balls right off!” Wind cheers, which gets nods from Legend and Wild, and winces from Sky and Warriors.

Twilight is more in the 'rip their throat out' camp, but he's also got a unique perspective on how to get personal with killing off your enemies.

(If their quest is to end, he will stand between any number of enemies so that his family returns home safe.)

***

The Temple of Souls.

A place of power, of memories. Deeds commemorated here. Statues of the various chosen heroes during their adventures. Honored and immortalized in stone.

Twilight hesitates before the one statue of a beast, and the imp riding its back. It's a testament to how much the other heroes helped him heal that he mostly feels nostalgia looking at his past. The pain, muted by Wild's enthusiasm or Four's more solemn amusement.

They search through the history of the Hero's Spirit together, with Warriors leading them. Their captain's light-hearted jester attitude's been replaced by his battlefield look. A strategist and a soldier, at the head of a battalion of legends. And yet, there's a tightness to his expression. Twilight gets why and he makes sure to stay close. The sorceress had been reformed, so this world's Zelda said. But the fear's longer lasting.

Time lingers near the statue of the Hero of Time. So do the others, with Warriors deciding to keep watch, since they clearly couldn't deal with the idea of Time having once been a child.

A little kid. Probably not even as tall as Colin or Talo. Twilight tries to imagine letting these two go on a quest to save Hyrule and his mind buckles in protest at the knowledge of what kind of monstrosities can crawl up from the darkest corners of Hyrule. Imagines them in the Arbiter's Ground, and he feels acute pain in his left hand, where he is gripping his sword's hilt so hard his knuckles turn white.

Hylia stole Time's childhood, but Twilight won't let her take his future.

***

They found the enemy.

It found them in return. Hyrule is the first to realize, and it's their wanderer's words that ring in their heads during the worst battle of their lives.

'Impaled by a shadow in my likeness. Everything I gave, he returned right back.'

Dark Link. The other side of the coin. The shadow of the Hero's Spirit, grown with each incarnation.

It is not an opponent for any one hero to take on anymore. Dark Link is the sum of every dark turns their minds have ever taken, every moment of fear, despair, anger. Every dirty trick. Every method of handling a sword. It reflects all nine of them, in turn and at once.

And it means that each one of them know a piece of Dark Link as intimately as the back of their hands.

The battle does not end quickly.

While most encounters with monsters last minutes at most and encounters with bosses sometimes stretch twice or thrice that, this battle goes on for what feels like lifetimes. There's not a thing Twilight knows that he doesn't see at some point in Dark Link's arsenal. He's forced to see his journey thrown back at him, and he only went on a single one.

(He loses both his shield and his sword midway through. Has to join in the sniping until that's destroyed. Breaks two more of Wild's weapons. Fought with fangs and claws till he desperately needed healing.)

They came prepared. Armed with every weapon they have. Overstocked with potions and blessings and fairies.

They're still all exhausted, wounded and little more than dead on their feet when Wild lands the apparent fatal blow with a shock arrow. Electricity dances on the shade, its face a mask of silent agony, and it stumbles, shape unsteady, and sinks back into nothing.

“Is it... is it over?” Wind asks, his shirt shredded and an ugly burn on his collarbone.

“Steady!” Warriors calls out. “It might be trying to trick us.”

They watch every corner of the room with the hard earned hatred of a difficult opponent. They're all on their last leg and they can't keep going much longer. The air's so thick with tension Twilight tastes it. His instinct's screaming at him. He knows, in his heart, that this is it.

(It might be why he looked.)

(None of the others have spent as much time as him watching shadows, longing for the way they might waver and twist and become a beloved companion.)

Time's shadow shouldn't be this inky black.

Time's grip on his sword is also looser than his shadow's.

Twilight breaks into a sprint.

For a long time, Twilight had no choice. No matter what, his old mentor couldn't die before he had children.

Somehow, he'd been naïve enough to find comfort in that. Since then, he's dreamed of Time holding his baby, happier than he had ever dared express before. The memories of years that aged his heart faster than his body no longer a burden in his quiet little corner of the world.

There still isn't a choice. Time must go back to his wife and child. Twilight won't accept any other outcome. He'll turn silly images conjured from his resting mind into rock solid visions of the future.

Time's shadow stands up.

Hyrule shouts a warning.

And the blade swings.

“TWILIGHT!”

The taste of copper washes over his tongue. Drips from the corner of his mouth.

He looks down. A blade's shadow is impaling him straight through the chest. And Dark Link's face splits into a savage grin. Triumphant.

Heat bleeds out of his wound too fast. Somehow, he's certain this isn't poison, or at least, the traditional kind. It's climbing up his limbs, through his torso, and squeezes as if it were the coils of a snake. There's something wild, uncontrolled to it. Malicious. Its embrace tightens. Tries to leave him helpless, paralyzed.

It's fine. More so than any other hero, he's used to darkness. Made it a tool for himself in the ways the others haven't dared. And he's suddenly so thankful for it. That it's him. His country doesn't need him anymore, not like Sky who needs to build it from the ground, not like Legend who can never step outside his doors without getting roped into saving another country, not like Hyrule who guards the secret of his royal family, not like Warriors who is working so damn hard to earn back trust and honor amongst his own, not like Wild who wants to serve his Zelda and pay back his past mistake.

He doesn't even have grand projects for the future, like discovering a new land with pirates, find a lost brother, or simply build a home with his wife.

He's just... a farmer who picked up a sword and had help at the right time. Even if he dies, he knows his friends in the resistance could still protect Hyrule in his stead. The kids can look after themselves and each other now. Queen Zelda has always been stronger than him. And Illia... he'll finally let Epona go back to her. He can only hope that will be enough.

Because here and now, he is needed one last time.

Dark Link snarls and grins and begins to pull back his sword.

Twilight's hand catches his wrist. Grips.

Dark Link flinches. Red eyes flickers between his wrist and Twilight's serene smile. The other hand lashes like a whip, dagger's shade aimed right at his face, but that one instead pierces through Twilight's palm. Closing fingers lock Dark Link's arm into place. Neither can escape the other now. For the first time, hesitation flashes on the doppelganger's face. Tilts into fear as it starts to struggle. Each movement is rough, violent and murder on Twilight's battered body. The thing's strength should scare him.

Except Twilight learned to wrestle gorons for fun. He wins every time.

The others rally. He catches them rushing forward in the corner of his eyes.

It tries to slip inside his shadows, but Twilight remembers that trick too. He pulls back, welcomes the darkness and Dark Link's feet blur, fuse to the ground, to Twilight's own shadow. It's oddly fitting.

With a deadly chime, the biggoron sword sails over his shoulder and catches Dark Link's arm. It rams itself against Twilight, tries to stagger him, but his mentor's at his back now, and the battleworn heroes, his wronged family, repay their suffering with interest.

One skewering echoed eight times over. Every aspect of the Hero's Spirit stabbing at their inner darkness, fighting the demon that claimed their faults. It cannot escape this time. Its face shifts with every blow. From young to old to young again, a twin lost at birth. Bitter. Resentful. It's weak and faltering when at last, it becomes Twilight's.

With one last battle cry, Sky executes a point perfect great spin that slices straight through Dark Link's neck. Its head goes flying and dissolves before it hits the ground. The body remains longer. Some of it clings to Twilight, sinks into him. He might have worried about this eventually, but the black sword fades and his tunic become slick with blood.

Yeah... there's no coming back from that one.

Dark Mirrors had always been his greatest weakness. What set him on his journey, what broke him in the end, twice. He thinks... he thinks he managed to pick up the pieces well enough.

“Sorry, guys...” His attempt at a smile turn into a grimace of pain. “I don't think I can walk this off...”

“Hyrule! Heal him!”

Hyrule's corpse-like pallor is all the answer they need. The fight exhausted the last of his magic. He's still stumbling forward like he will put his own life into the spell if he needs it. Sky's the one to pull him back, looking sick.

Legend's bag is upturned over the floor, and three of them kneel amongst the items. Twilight notes with faint amusement that this time, their prickly veteran does not yell at them to be careful with his stuff. Rare items gathered through harrowing adventures just go flying on the sides, discarded as useless. He hopes none of them break. He'd hate that to be one of the last things Legend remember about him.

“Don't,” Twilight says, but it's too weak to get through his family's panic. “It's okay...”

Four, the one trying to help him stand, snaps at him. “Don't say that!”

“I-” His knees give out from under him. Four goes down with him.

“Twilight!”

The others snap their heads in their direction.

It takes one look at Time's face to realize what a fool he'd been. It's almost enough to make him regret it. But no, given another chance, he'd make the same decision over and over again.

“Please...” he tries to say, but it's lost in a gargle of copper and red.

The screaming worsens.

Will Time go to his grave with this on his mind? He can't. Twilight wants to beg him not to. Wants to explain. Free himself of the fear he's clung to for the months they traveled together. But his lungs refuse to cooperate, filling with blood. Every attempt to speak just pains him more and produces mere wheezes.

Not on my behalf, he thinks, a last jolt of strength going through him from frustration and fear and sorrow. He hates the knowledge he'll put his mentor to rest with false hope. That he'll move on, thinking that his training might save him from this fate.

(From Ganondorf, yes, always. Hyrule saved because of the old man. Always cursed not to be known for his heroism, wasn't he?)

High whistling notes edge the confines of his consciousness. Fast notes, frantic, played with the fervor of a dying man, and he almost chuckles thinking he has a much better understanding of this as darkness creeps on the corner of his eyes and heat leeches out of his wound.

He can't see Time anymore. Just vague outlines of all his brothers, the color of their cloaks and hair the best way he can distinguish them by now. Hands push down on his shoulders, lift him gently. Scarred hands. Strands of blonde hair tickle his face.

Wild.

“'M sorry...” he breathes out. Tears prick at his eyes, knowing how much this'll hurt his cub. His little brother who already bears the weight of so many deaths. “Not... f-f-au-lt. Swear,” he tries to sound stern, he really does.

He can't go to his grave otherwise. He'll stay alive just so Wild and Time and the others don't pick up the guilt.

Eh...

She did always call him an optimist.

He's probably in some dying dream, he sees hands the shades of her skin join Wild's, brush his hair away from his eyes. Liquid flames frame a face like hers. The mocking lilt of her voice is broken by a sob though. He's never heard that before.

He wishes he could stop the pain for all of them, but he's tired.

Maybe... maybe Hylia granted him that one last favor. Maybe it's just him and his stupid heart that won't heal right, that makes him see what's not there...

He doesn't have the strength to do more than believe anyway.

“Midna...”

Tender warmth brush over his lips, one last little balm before he goes. It's gentle. So unlike her, so like her too. Eh. He always imagined they'd be cold.

***

Wild sees Twilight's eyes close, and his world snaps in half.

His brother slips from his arms, but thankfully, the woman's grip on him is steady. Familiar. It makes Twilight look at peace, as if he was sleeping in his lover's lap. It's something he always wished for his big brother, from the moment he heard that joke about a princess and a mirror. To have someone who loved him worth the pain he'd gone through.

And he only gets it in death.

It can't end this way. It can't! Mipha! he grapples with the thought and it wins. “MIPHA! PLEASE!”

She'd healed him from the brink so many times. Twilight's even more of a hero than him, so it would only be fair, right? Just this once. Just this once. He can't lose someone else because of his incompetence!

But Mipha has long gone to rest, and no one disturbs their group of heroes from their loss.

Wild feels himself scrap at his old hood, pushes it down over his head. As if that would stop reality from sinking in. He can't look at Twilight's body. He can't. He just wants to wake up in the shrine, like nothing ever happened. Like he hasn't watched-

“It was you!” Warriors snarls at the woman, his tone as biting as a sword's kiss. “All this time! It was you that broke his heart! He said he lost you, but you just left, didn't you?! You could have gone back to him!”

The strange woman – Midna – finally turns away from Twil- from... she turns to Warriors. Tears trail down her cheeks despite the faintest hint of a smile. “I always hoped he would forget me, the sweet fool.”

It's spoken with the sort of affection in one of Twilight's hair ruffling, but the insult feels searing. Wind's on her the next second.

“Don't you dare call him that!” he howls in her face, the shout less intimidated by the snot and tears he can't hold in. “Don't you- Twilight's not- not...”

Somehow, Sky can move. He lifts Wind away from Midna. It breaks the teen's rage, and he curls into Sky's shoulders as if their chosen isn't crying himself.

“He was,” she says, and it strikes Wild that she is just like Twilight had said. Fierce. Powerful. And a bit cruel. Like a jewel barbed in thorns – even if she'd laugh at the description. “It could have been different, if he hadn't been who he was. But he would always make this choice. You know this.”

Memories come to Wild, unbidden, of days in his Hyrule, where the only one he could count on was himself and a wolf. Hordes chasing a beast whilst he picked them off one by one. Enormous monsters fell side by side with his friend. Cold nights buried in fur. Panicked barks getting closer to him as he struggled to stand in the middle of a battlefield.

Goddesses...

The music – when, who, had started, – breaks into a horrible screech that should never come out of an instrument. It's half scream. Half something shattering.

“Why isn't it working?!” Time croaks, hands trembling around his broken ocarina.

“That power was only ever borrowed,” Midna says as if every syllable costs her. “The price would be too high.”

Legend is the next one to move from sorrow to rage. “No! We'll do it again!” He kneels by his bags and he's tossing aside items by the dozens. “We didn't come all this way for this!”

“You did,” Midna's voice falters. “And so did I. It was always meant to end like this.”

An horrible sinking feeling seizes Wild's heart. “You... knew?”

They freeze.

Midna looks down at Twilight's face and brushes a strand of hair away from his markings. “At the very end of our adventures, I was spared by the Goddess. Salvaged, maybe, from the ruins of forbidden power and the home of my dearest friend. Hylia spoke to me then. Told me.”

Wild sees her chest shudder before her voice breaks.

“Told me that Link and I would only be reunited on the day of his death. That I'd be the one to take his last breath. It was the only way Hyrule could be safe.”

“Fuck Hyrule!” Legend shouts, hoarse. “What is the point-? Every time! F-fuck this kingdom and fuck Hylia! What about us?! Why does she hate us so much?!”

Legend's arms fall to the sides, his grief spent. He stares at his feet and doesn't react when his successor hugs him tight. Warriors gets his other side.

Wild feels numb. He had done his best the first time around, to believe that Hylia wanted the best even when she let his Zelda suffer through her silence. He thought, maybe, her late answer had a purpose. But he can't figure it out. A kingdom she claimed to protect, destroyed before she helped.

His chest hurts. He can't breath right.

Ahead, the air tears with a jarring noise and a burst of black particles. He can't help the flare of hope they bring, the very same magic that Twilight used to become a wolf. But his brother's not moving. Midna's arm is raised toward the black portal.

“No, no!” Time finally breaks out of his paralysis, reaching out for Twilight's body. “You can't take him!”

“I'm sorry,” she whispers. “I don't have much time left. I must bring him back to his village. I owe him that much.”

None of them stop her from walking back into the shadows, their lost brother in her arms.

***

The greatest threat to their world has finally been defeated. Months of hardship, over. The purpose for which Hylia assembled them, fulfilled. It should have been heralded by a feast, a last evening together before the final goodbyes. The weight of their mission should have been lifted, but now it won't leave them.

They try.

They find the seediest tavern, in the darkest corner of town. They are not looking for a celebration. They want to drown the sorrow in something less painful than grief, be it a bar fight, a hangover or a round of the bard's singing.

All eight of them around a table, nine drinks before them. A toast.

Unshed tears.

Stories. All those times Twilight played big brother to them. Tried to be the reasonable one even when he was smirking under his wolf pelt. Those games of cards he won the pants off Warriors, literally. Those times he teased Legend with his incomprehensible slangs (they'd never know what that one about goat horns mean, would they?). Those nights they woke bundled up under a wolf. Those days he would spend at their bedside, caring for injuries he sniffed out better than most.

They call up more drinks, left the ninth alone, and pour their soul into making themselves almost believe he was still alive. That Midna had taken his sleeping body back where he'd finally get to be in love with her.

For the time of a few laughs, it works. Then they look at the empty seat.

“He died.” Time drops his head into his hands, smaller than they'd ever seen him before. “Twilight died, and I wasn't even holding him! I was playing that goddess-curse ocarina! He told me! He told me he would die for me and I didn't listen!”

“He would have died for any of us,” Warriors says, weakly. “Just like we would have died for him.”

At the end of the night, when they stumble out, unsteady, Wild picks up the ninth drink and empties it outside.

***

The arrow's tip strikes one eye and detonates.

Cracks in the stone spread a little further. But the statue is still standing. It waited for him when he came back. Here. The only thing still standing in the ruins of the temple. Where his first journey began.

He can't hear her voice as he did before. He has no crest to offer, no proof of his valor to receive a blessing. Even now, the thought makes him want to hurl. To carve out the gifts he'd received from the monster that parades as a goddess right out of his chest.

“Why?!” Wild screams at the unfeeling block of stone.

The damage reaches the statue's middle, and a chunk tears off. A piece of her cloak. Dust follows. He shoots another bomb arrow. Almost grins to see a piece of her hair fly off.

“Why? Why WHYWHYWHY?!”

Fingers close on air. He's emptied his quiver.

Glowing bomb runes materialize in his hands, and he can barely wait out the cooldown time between each new explosion.

He switches to a club.

“Why him?!” He wails at the stone. “Why was it him?! Why not me?!”

The shout drains the last of his strength. With a sob, he falls to his knees.

“You did this to him! You killed my brother!” he spits every inch of venom that's making his chest heave, that burns his eyes and that opened this gaping hole inside him. “Why did you do that?! You're supposed to be good! Everyone told me you protect Hyrule! But you don't! You just send the same mortal do your job over and over again! And now he's... he's DEAD! What's the point of you?!”

“Link!”

Zelda's voice.

It rubs his skin raw that she sounds so happy. She should be disgusted to see such a worthless hero! She should have left him to die in that field!

She stops by the broken entrance to the Temple of Time, her gaze flickering to the statue, to his sorry state. The ecstatic looks vanishes and a far more fitting sadness replaces it.

“Link...?”

For a frightening moment, he thinks he's going to hate her. Hate Zelda for what she represents. He thinks he won't be able to look at her without knowing what she is. That there'll always be a voice in the back of his mind telling him she shares her soul with the unfeeling thing that lead his brother to his death.

“What happened?” she asks, gentle.

“T-Twilight... he's... ”

The club hits the ground.

Zelda closes her arms around him, and he clings to her like she's going to disappear.

***

“It's a boy!”

The wisewoman presents the small squirming body to Time.

Wisps of strawberry blonde hair crown his son's mostly naked head. Not dark enough to be...

He banishes the thought from his head. It's unfair. It's cruel. He can't compare them. His son. His son, he repeats to himself when the little bundle shifts against the inside of his elbow. Malon was right. That button nose is far cuter than his.

He's perfect.

His heart is threatening to jump right out of his chest. He doesn't think he can express all the love he has for this little hylian boy properly. He doesn't think it's possible to love anyone that much. For years, he'd feared a pauper's grave, a hole on the side of the road. A monster getting lucky at last and no one to mourn him. And now he was holding his firstborn child.

Malon had pushed past that fear and the walls he'd built around his heart. Twilight had shown him without a doubt he could have a family.

Twilight had...

It could have been different. But he would always make this choice.

Always choose to save Time at the last possible moment. For Malon. For their son.

Time dabs the corner of his eyes, and loses himself in the feeling of his son's skin against his own. He's so lucky to be able to hold him. To kiss the top of his head. To look at the beauty of his wife and child together. He doesn't know if he deserves it. Doesn't feel like he does anymore. But he can't throw it away. The price was so high. He wants every moment spent well. A full life to shower his child with love, for all the children he might have on the ranch.

I promised you.

Twilight is his successor, his son. A strong, kind young man that died too soon for Time's mistake. If he'd been stronger, if any of them had been a little stronger, perhaps...

He's never resented the lack of recognition over his deeds so ardently before. Never felt the bitterness take root this deep. Everything he was, everything he did, forgotten, lost. Accounts of his deeds, his prowesses, gone. Sword techniques. Tricks. Items. Twilight had been a farmer before Hylia had pushed his fate onto him. How could his own descendant have nothing of Time's knowledge and treasures passed down to him? If he had...

On the Triforce, he swears. He will pass on everything he knows to his children and his grandchildren after them, make them promise to perpetuate that tradition, so that Twilight might live longer. He couldn't fail him again.

He swears.

He will do anything to help Twilight survive their last quest.

In this world or the next.

#Linked Universe #Linkeduniverse #LU Twilight #LU Time

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conaionaru · 4 years ago

Text

Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

I'll run to you

Synopsis:

Warnings: Ivar, Silas, toxic family, mentions of murder, angst

Tags:

@xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @didiintheblog @lol-haha-joke @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @queenbeeta @astridbaby @chynagirl13 @thereareendlessopportunities

P.S. I did some edits of Ivar x Vanya. And I found the perfect song for them (where the title of this chapter comes from) and made an edit of that as well.

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

When Vanya was a little girl, she dreamt of marrying a noble Prince and becoming his Queen. She imagined a huge castle and her father visiting her as often as possible. Even her mother was proud of her for being a good Christian wife.

Never did she dream of being here, drifting on a boat with a sore shoulder, woozy from mead with her sleeping heathen son in her lap. Why must dreams always be so wrong?

But truth to be told, she loved the life she lived now. Well, not right now, but the last year. Her experience in Kattegat was perfect. Despite his short temper, Ivar was a good man. He loved her unconditionally, protected her, and listened to her. His brothers were kind to her, and she trusted them with her life. Even Sigurd, with who she sometimes butted heads. She had a friend and found a mother in Aslaug and Helga.

She missed them so much. Two days on the water made her want to cry. She cried nowadays more than the babe she gave birth to. He seemed content; he loved watching the ravens fly over their heads and played with her hair when she held him.

How funny it seemed to her that she loved sailing when she came here. Now she yearned to stand on dry land and sleep in a warm bed wrapped in Ivar's arms.

Whenever Vanya didn't think of home, she thought of Silas, especially what she would do to him. She had been meek and peaceful for so long, forgave him everything he did to her. But that changes now; he didn't just hurt her or degrade her. He tried to kill her and her son. His knights murdered an innocent woman. He would pay the blood price for it.

The raven made a sound and left their usual circling spot. Vanya watched them go and perked up. Land. It meant land was near. She put her child into the nets and rowed towards the direction the birds flew.

Her shoulder screamed in protest, and she felt it reopen as her dress got wet with blood. She ignored it and kept on rowing. She was out of food, and the mead wouldn't last more than two cups. They needed to find water and food.

Ivar laid in his bed, sweat dripping from his forehead, the whites of his eyes blue. His legs hurt too much today; he had to stay in bed but couldn't sleep at all. All he could do was lay there in pain and think of all the ways he will torture Vanya's attacker. He prayed to the Gods that she was still alive. Two days ago, she went missing, and everyone was losing hope.

Aslaug had no visions, and Hoenir was no help. He dragged himself to the Seer yesterday, but all he got was vague answers. "You know the answer, Boneless." He knew Vanya had grown stronger and that she promised to protect their son. But so did he and now, he doesn't know where she is or if she is even alive.

He promised her that no one would ever lay a hand on her again, and he failed. If he ever saw her again, he wouldn't let her out of his sight.

"Drink the tea, Ivar. It will help." Ubbe ordered, walking into the room, looking at the untouched cup on Ivar's bedside. Right next to the tea was the carved figure of Fenrir and Vanya's serpent necklace.

"Did you find her? Anything?" Ivar begged as his brother wiped his damp forehead.

Ubbe shook his head and put the rag down. "A fisherman's boat went missing two days ago. Mother thinks Vanya might have taken it. So we sent some boats out to look for her. But if she drifted out into the open..."

He didn't have to finish the sentence for Ivar to understand. If Vanya drifted away, the storm that was gathering would sink her ship and drown them both. Hoenir saw her drown, what if he was right and she would? No amount of sacrifices would bring her back then. He would be alone again, with Aslaug the only one to love him. Ubbe might love him, but there are moments he must wish his brother wasn't alive.

The times he had to carry him or stay at home because Ivar was in pain. Having to check on his legs and eyes all the time. In everybody's eyes, Ivar was a burden; he was aware of it. Vanya was the only one who didn't care or look down on him. In her eyes, Ivar was perfect despite his shortcomings. Over time, she grew used to his temper and pain. She comforted him, held him, whispered sweet words into his ear as he fell asleep.

She loved him, and he left her alone after she bore him a son. He didn't even get to hold him. His perfect son, who had his eyes and hair. His healthy boy. Ivar hated himself, but he hated the world more.

"How long we have to keep looking? It's been two days now. The corpses must show up soon." Pæga complained, pulling off his boots and sinking his feet into the bowl with water.

Silas glared at the knight and stabbed his dagger into the table. "Boats were sent out to search for her, a fisherman's boat went missing, they think Vanya is in it. If she survived and they find her... My sister saw your faces. She isn't so stupid to fall for a few farmers in your clothes. If you get caught, then it means my death as well." He spat at his knights while Stithulf sat in the corner, sharpening his sword.

"I doubt she is alive. She doesn't strike me as a survivor. Vanya was sent here to wither and die, to brake and suffer. She might have charmed her way around Kattegat. But smiles and gifts aren't going to save her from death. She was hit with an arrow; I saw her sink. All they will find is a dead child in the boat. Vanya is dead, and you are the only possible ruler of Slegia."

Stithulf stood up after his rant and walked towards his King. He lifted the crown from the table and put it on his head. "A crown for a King. The one true King. Vanya will never wear this thing; neither will her children; I made sure of it."

Silas nodded and proudly pushed his chest out. The knight was right; he was the King, and Vanya was dead. First, he dealt with her; next is his mother and her new husband. Then his uncle and Wrosan will be his. The victory was certain.

Vanya hauled herself from the boat and pulled it on land so the tide wouldn't wash it away. Her son stirred in his little bed while Vanya collapsed on the ground, exhausted.

The ravens left them alone, and she had no idea where to go. This part of Kattegat was unfamiliar to her. So as she laid there, she prayed to the Gods to show her a way to get home. But no sign or help came.

So she wrapped herself tighter in her cloak and took her child with her heading west, the other way than she drifted off. She needed to get to a familiar location: the hunting hut, Floki's house, or even the forest before Kattegat.

Vanya walked with her son in her arms, without a pause. She managed to find some berries Helga taught her were edible and a stream of water. After she ate, she fed her son and carried on in her way. Her feet were sore, and her son was becoming too heavy for her weak arms.

Other than wilderness and silence, there was nothing around her. Every tree looked the same, and the shade they gave her made navigating with the sun harder. She shivered as the winds grew colder.

When her son whimpered in her arms, she froze. Her being cold wasn't that bad. But to him, it meant death. So she carefully put him on the ground and took off her cloak and swaddled him in it. Her thinned down frame shook in the cold winds while her son burrowed himself into the new warmth.

Vanya looked down at his little content face and smiled. All of this hardship was worth it if he was healthy and alive. This life she created and carries inside her, that she spent hours bringing into the world. It meant everything to her; it hurt to admit that her mother was right. A mother has no choice but to love her child; only a monster would ignore her own blood like that. But the thing Siflaed was wrong about was that Vanya did love Ivar. Despite everything she heard about him and his people, she grew to love him no, her people. Kattegat was her home now; she was born to live here; she knew it.

And when she returned, she would never leave again; she would remain and raise her son. She would see all the other sons of Ragnar start their own families and see Aslaug grow old. Hold Bjorn's adorable children and gossip with Torvi and Brynja. She would sit on the bench in front of the Great Hall, sewing a dress together, with Ivar by her side with their son in his arms. Vanya would come to visit Helga and Floki more often like she promised she would and try to make Margrethe less afraid of Ivar. He wasn't the monster; everyone made him out to be; her husband had a lonely heart with high walls made of anger.

She remembered the story of Eve and the Devil. The way the serpent tricked Eve into eating the apple and be banished from Eden for it. She also remembered the story one of Siflaed's lovers told her of the Greek goddess Persephone and the pomegranate. How Hades offered the fruit to her, and she stayed with him as his wife.

But Vanya didn't feel like Eve; her husband was no evil serpent leading her on. He was Hades, the god known for his dark demeanor, but a good husband. She wasn't a meek Christian like Eve, Vanya was Persephone. A good heart with love for nature, married to a man of shadowed behavior who everyone feared. But they both held darkness and light, she wasn't just a maiden who plucked blooming flowers, and Ivar wasn't just an angry heathen with a quick tongue. Her tongue was as equally sharp as his and his love as real as hers. They were King and Queen of the Underworld, Prince and Princess of Kattegat.

With determination, Vanya strode on, thankful for the shoes she managed to put on before her escape. Walking barefoot on top of lightly dressed would have meant her death. She could hear an owl hoot somewhere behind her until it flew past her and landed on a branch. "Frigga." She whispered as the bird stared at her with yellow eyes, it's white feathers standing out in the treetops.

"Have you come to take me home, All-Mother? Odin's ravens looked over my son and me on the boat, and now you have come for us. Goddess of mothers and queens, of war, wisdom, and strategy. I beg you, take me home." She begged the hooting white owl that took off and landed on another branch, waiting for the ginger to follow.

Vanya chuckled at the sight and followed after the frequently stopping bird. "This better be Frigga, or I will die. That's your descendant on the line, Odin. Don't let me die, All-father, All-mother."

Everyone stood gathered in the Great Hall in the evening, waiting for what Aslaug had to say. Silas stood in the corner of the room, surrounded by his armed knights. "My brother Ivar was graced with a son three days ago. But his son and wife were ripped away by a murderer, who sneaked into their hut and killed the wet nurse." Bjorn announced watching the faces of everyone present.

Floki and Helga leaned a support beam, both looking grim, while the boatbuilder glared at Silas. Ivar sat next to his mother, with Hoenir standing behind them. Brynja and Margrethe watched the whole ordeal from their place with the other servants and slaves. The other brothers stood behind Bjorn, who towered over the room, reminding all of their father. He carried the same authority even without a crown on his head.

Aslaug lifted her head higher and wrapped his fingers around the armrests of her throne. "The one responsible will answer to the Gods. The more blood they have on their hands, the more dire their demise will be. This person is charged with treason and murder..."

Ubbe left his mother's side while she talked and walked with Floki and Hoenir towards the exits. They barricaded the door while no one was watching. The only way to open them now would be from the outside, where Floki stood watch.

"The return of my daughter in law Vanya is becoming unlikely. A funeral will be held soon to honor her death, Floki has agreed to build a boat to bury her. If she is not found until the ship is done, we shall burn some of her possessions instead."

Stithulf observed the heathens around him; they seemed on edge, ready to pounce at any moment. Of course, Silas was obvious to all this, too distracted by the Queen's speech to notice.

"But, we do know the one responsible for this tragedy." The knights head snapped towards the throne. Everyone grew silent, waiting for Aslaug to continue. "We questioned people and gathered that there is only one possible suspect behind all this. Someone willing to murder a mother and child int heir sleep."

The room was tense as if a war would erupt at any moment. Ivar clenched his jaw before smirking at Silas, who froze in his spot.

"How do you answer these charges... King Silas?" The Saxon's breaths hitched in fear as the knights wrapped their hands around their swords' handles, ready to draw them and kill everyone. But they were outnumbered and locked in with bloodthirsty heathens.

"This is outrageous! I loved my sister. And you are claiming me as a murderer only because you failed to find the real one. My sister is dead because of you!" He roared at the remaining sons of Ragnar and his wife. But they didn't even flinch all the Queen did, was push her shoulders back and raise an eyebrow at his outburst.

"So you claim, but there is no proof. All we saw were spiteful words and tantrums. You bribed farmers to change clothes with your knights; then, you ordered them to kill Vanya and her son. But Margrethe remembered their faces, and it wasn't the faces we see here today." Sigurd called out as the said thrall covered behind Brynja. She confessed this to Sigurd last night, and since then, the Ragnarsson and Aslaug had been plotting.

Silas frowned and shook his head, chuckling. "And do tell me... What would my reason be? Sibling rivalry? Don't be ridiculous. I may not have been overly fond of my sister, I admit. But I wouldn't murder her. And the baby? Son or not, I hold no ill will against either."

"Vanya and her son possessed a threat to you, childless, unfit to rule. But Vanya is loved here, and I am sure she was the same in England. You ordered her death and will die for it. An eye for an eye." Bjorn threatened as Silas gulped and gave an uneasy smile.

He shrugged and spread his arms wide to show he was unarmed and possessed no threat to them, other than his knights who drew their swords. "Let's spare ourselves these dramatics. Vanya is dead, and I am not the culprit. Let's not have a ghost of a disobedient whore get between our agreement."

Ivar slammed his fist against his chair and glared at the daring King. He would have leaped out of his seat and strangled the bastard if it wasn't for Bjorn, Sigurd, and Hvitserk holding him back. "How dare you?" The Ragnarsson roared his nostrils flaring in rage.

Silas pointed to Ivar's legs with a smirk. "Your... Affliction. Do you really think the child was yours? My darling sister would do anything to please you as a proper wife should. And giving you a child, even one that's not truly yours. It would please you. Wouldn't it? To think that you are a real man, able to produce an heir." The blonde Christian taunted as everyone glared at what he was suggesting.

"I did you a favor before things escalated, and you would believe other idiotic lies my sister would have fed you to keep herself alive a little longer. I saved you from further embarrassment and grief. Vanya is dead, and there is nothing to change that." He sounded at peace with his oncoming death. Silas knows he and his knights will die, but might as well anger the heathens some more. Die a horrid death and go down in history as a martyr: Saint Silas, The tortured King.

Stithulf, on the other hand, looked distressed, all the whispering he did, all for nothing. All his hard work wasted on a foolish king with a big ego and greedy heart. His chance at fame and ruling, all gone, because of a ginger Princess who just couldn't stay meek and timid like she was meant to be.

The sound of something shattering broke the tense atmosphere. Everyone looked st the redheaded servant that let her jug of water, fall to the floor. "Vanya." She whispered, her face pale and eyes wide. They followed her gaze and gazed at the open door in shock.

"Why do you think I am dead, Brother?" Vanya's voice rasped out as the ginger leaned against the door frame, a shield pierced with many arrows in one hand. Her hair was frizzy, her skin pale, and her eyes sunken in. Her white dress was stained with bloody some on her shoulder, the rest on her lap, from childbirth.

She took a shaky step forward and shifted her arms slightly. Helga runs to her side, and Floki stood behind her in case she fell. The Ragnarssons run to her while Ivar stared at her in shock. Standing up, Aslaug observed the presumably dead Princess in wonder.

"Helga, you need to look after my son. I tried to keep him warm and fed. Please check him." Vanya pleaded with the blonde woman, letting the shield riddled with arrows fall to the floor. Hidden behind the protection was a bundle of furs and cloak, squirming at the new warm place they entered.

Helga shakily took the babe out of Vanya's trembling embrace to see the child alive and well despite the ordeals he went through. She ushered the child away as Ubbe reached his sister in law, laying a hand on her shoulder to steady her. But she shook it off and slowly advanced towards Silas, who took a few steps towards her as well.

"How? You should be dead." He whispered, still in denial that his plan didn't work.

"I forgave you so much, Silas. So many wounds. I forgave them all, ignored them, and asked my family to ignore them as well. But that ends today. You killed an innocent woman! You tried to kill my son!"

Silas shook his head, refusing to admit defeat against his little sister. His foolish sister, who was born weak and was meant to abide by him. The one who defied him and survived. "You won't hurt me, Vanya. You are weak. Remember your place, and we can forget this. Beg me for forgiveness, and I shall grant it to you. All I want in return is save passage back home. Kill my knights instead."

"You think I will beg? I did nothing to ask forgiveness for! You are a monster, Silas. Just like father and mother said you were. Do you think I will cower before you? Just because you are my brother?" She seethed stalking towards him as Silas drew a dagger and pointed it at her, shaking, fearful of this side of Vanya.

The ginger keeps on advancing, not caring for the weapon pointed at her. The adrenaline running through her veins made her forget what fear feels like at all. All she could see was the man who made her life a living hell and tried to kill her son! "Blessed are the meek, Vanya." He reminded her, hoping that the sentence that their mother used to drill into her head would calm her down, but his sister didn't even blink.

"Yes. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. For theirs is the kingdom of heaven." She spat back a part of the Beatitudes, laughing at his poor attempt at containing her rage. "Do you think the words of Jesus or God will stop me? Do you honestly believe that you will be forgiven? I am past forgiveness and meekness! I want you to pay for my and my son's suffering in blood!"

Silas took a few steps back, his hand shaking like crazy. Vanya was nearly in front of him now, her hand grasped his dagger around the sharp edge, no fear in her eyes. They looked like frozen over fjord's, determination and anger swirling around. She tugged his knife from his grasp and threw it behind her, surprising everyone. Blood dripped from the cut on her palm, trailing down her slender fingers and hitting the floorboards.

"I would burn cities and kingdom's to the ground and make him King of the Ashes if they dared to threaten him!" She screamed at her brother, getting into his face and glaring up at him as he shook in his spot.

"Vanya, please, have mercy. I am your brother. I did it to protect my claim. You must understand. I was born to rule; I deserve to sit on the throne for eternity. Please have mercy." The two siblings stared into each other's eyes, the frozen fjords meeting the tearful sky.

She softly shook her head and softened her angry expression. Ivar crawled towards them, observing the blood-stained dagger and her bleeding hand clenched by her side. "Mercy is a Christian value, and I am not Christian anymore." She hissed backhanding him with her bleeding left hand so hard that he hit the floor.

Silas cradled his aching cheek and stared at Vanya in shock. The ginger glared down at him with disdain obvious in her expression. "That's why I wish you the most painful death instead." She spat at him before two men dragged him away as he cried and cursed at them, begging them to let him go as other Vikings killed his knights when they dared to attack.

Ivar crawled to Vanya's left and took her cold bleeding hand in his, startling her from her trance. She looked down at him tenderly as he looked over her tired body. "I missed you." He whispered, staring up at her with adoration as she returned his tender look, softly smiling.

"I missed you too." Ubbe supported her swaying frame and carried her towards the awaiting healers, thanking the gods for her return, alive and well. Ivar watched her get carried away and spared a glance at the dead bodies of the Saxon knights before he followed his brother and wife.

#vikings #vikings imagine #history vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #original character #original female character #ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x oc

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prettynxsty · 4 years ago

Text

Scented Wood

My first ever fic, femdom!reader x sub!Chan

contains: angst, swearing, futa/girlcock, size kink, choking, smoking, toxicity, dark themes, mentions of killing, smut, y/n is straight up a serial killer, okay?

Summary: You’re a notorious serial killer, but you only kill to keep the balance. Your purpose is to rid the world of it’s garbage, but by day you’re simply a forensic crime scene specialist. You tangled yourself in a serious mess by giving into your selfish desires, indulging in hearts instead of stains on society.

AN: I tried to give a new spin on a unique writing style and write something that gives a fresh feeling.

1 2 3 4

Chan enters the station, his breath coming in shallow puffs. It felt like ice out there, it'd never snow in LA no matter how nippy it was outside. He peels the gloves from his hands and tucks them under his arm while scrubbing together his cold fingers. The station was quieter at these hours, the normal hum of noise was quieter.

He nods to a comrade at the front desk as he heads down the hallway, he was still cold, if not colder. But there was a warmth that he remembered, one that tickled him inside and out. Chan slowed to a stop beside Y/n’s office, doubting himself for a second before tapping his knuckle against the wood. He shrugs his jacket down to his shoulders, reaching up and gently scratching at the base of his neck under his uniform top.

You nearly jumped out of your skin upon hearing the knock, the wheels of your chair inching you away from your desk. Peering through the frosted windows, you see the familiar frame of Chan. You relaxed gently, but still felt a bit jumpy. You had every reason to be nowadays - after all you’ve done, it's hard to just go back and calm yourself. You’re now paranoid, spastic, loud... but that doesn't matter.

You saved and exited the document you were working on, then stood up to your full height, putting your hands in your pockets... wincing as the bruised and cut knuckles rubbed against the fabric of your pockets. This was what had to happen - for the good of LA, you just wished that you would have been smarter than to get into a fight with them first. You'll be quicker on the next kill, cleaner. Quieter. But now, you had better things to look forward to. "Come in, Chan," your voice echoed through your office, dominant, deep, assured, enough to chill the room even more.

Chan exhales, his entire frame relaxing as he pushes down the door handle and enters the room. The chill in his skin begins to fade away as his eyes run over the silhouette of the taller form. He swallows quietly, rubbing his lips together and licking them idly as he lifts his eyes to meet yours.

"Hey," he breathes, "you busy?" Lifting a hand, he removes his black cap and combs his fingers through his brown locks to fix them. He hadn't ever outright asked you for what he wanted, he could only ever remember simply taking it, or having it given to him without any word.

You could read the body language of the man as simple as you could a children's book - Chan wanted something. Something he didn't want to say out loud, obviously - his cheeks were a supple shade of red, but that could always be the temperature. You always preferred the cold, so your house is always a steady 65. But Chan was warm-blooded, you could tell that by... everything about him.

You watch his hair as it smoothed out between his fingers, and you could almost feel the silkiness on your own fingertips. Your hands twitched in response. You swallowed the lump in your throat, lifting your chin slightly, eyeing your friend. "Not usually," you lied. "I always have time for you. What do you need?"

"Just wanted to catch up," the corners of his lips twitch up in a lopsided smile. His lids flutter shut as he stretches his back, moaning quietly. His collar shifts, practically putting his pretty tanned skin on display. His neck was fresh, free of markings of any kind.

Chan tucks his gloves into his pocket, shrugging off his leather jacket and spotting the second chair beside your desk. He helped himself to the seat without asking, quietly fishing out his peppermint chapstick. For an officer of the law, he was acting awfully shy at this very moment. He quickly looks away from you as he glides the balm over his dry lips. "Uh, how have you been?"

You kept an eye on Chan's every movement, every twitch, but stayed completely still yourself. You watched the shine of his lips as he rubbed them together, you would swear you even saw the pink of his tongue slip out for a moment. You suddenly felt slightly flustered, but buried it quickly with your other thoughts.

Catch up? What did that mean? You ran through the locations of your crimes in your head, and as far as you knew, you left nothing but the little folded paper on the victim - some wife beater from Glendale, which you enjoyed killing very much so, even took one of his teeth as a trophy, which was sitting in a jar on your bedside table at home.

So Chan had to be here as... just a friend. Easing up a bit, you pushed your kind persona to the forefront, offering a smile to Chan. "Good as I can be, with all this rain we've been getting," you laughed slightly, making your way around the desk to stand by Chan. "How have you been? Working the old 9-5?" You leaned against your desk, hands still in your pockets as you looked down to Chan, catching the honey of his brown eyes in the light.

The inkling of desire swimming in his blood began to grow and spread like poison. He just couldn't get enough of you, there was just something about your presence. Your imposing height, the mystery of your character, you were more beautiful than you'd ever realize. The quirk in your charm always made his heart flutter for some reason. In a room full of people, his eyes went to you first and foremost, but why?

He rests his jacket on the back of the chair as he leans back against it, nodding actively as the other man spoke. The chill that was within him was replaced with a fire, a fire that wouldn't be quenched without his desire being fulfilled one way or another.

"Ah yeah, nothing big lately since they have me on patrol until something happens."

He couldn't help but sneak a few glances at your lips before forcing himself to hold your gaze.

"Got any breakthroughs?"

You thought carefully of what to say next; you’re far too good of a forensic scientist to have nothing by this point, so saying no would seem suspicious, but you could lead them in the wrong direction. You reached behind your desk, grabbing a pen and a notepad, scribbling down some info to give to Chan.

"The footprints at uh... the first scene were partial, but my guess would be they're a men's size 8, so you're probably looking for a guy of average height - 5'8 maybe. The killings are brutal, but I don't have to tell you that. They're probably done by someone of great strength."

Or great stealth. You almost laughed at the thought, before glancing up just in time to see Chan’s eyes on your lips. Oh. So that's what he wants. You cocked your head up again, what a pleasant surprise. Maybe you two could have a little fun together.

"See something you like, officer?"

Chan hummed, nodding as he shifted in his chair to sit up straight, scanning the notes given to him. His lips tingle slightly with the sweet cooling notes of peppermint and menthol in his chapstick, he softly smacks his lips together as he thought for a moment.

Was this a good idea? Chan felt like he was more than likely pushing his luck. Your teasing remark pulls him from the disappointing thoughts, bringing him back to reality. You were probably just joking with him, better not push it.

"Maybe I do," he laughs as he stands up from the chair and stretches.

"I won't keep you too long, Y/l/n. You probably put off some work to talk to me." Chan got ready to turn back and grab his coat, playfully nudging his friend's shoulder.

Your smirk turns into a full blown cocky smile now. There was something nice about the way Chan referred to you, like you were his superior. It warmed you from your thighs to your stomach, and made your heartbeat pick up ever so slightly. Noticing Chan about to leave, you quickly grabbed his arm before it reached his coat.

"Why leave so soon? You just got here," you breathed softly, though your grip was no doubt tight; your thumb grazed right underneath the sleeve of his shirt, right along the little blue vein of his wrist. You licked your lips, stepping closer to him.

"Stay a little longer. We can... go over the case." You didn't want to seem too forward.

Your voice sent chills down his spine, his face grew hotter. He couldn't believe what was happening right now, you wanted him like that? He swallows dryly as his arm was grabbed, it wasn't really harsh per se, but it completely took his breath away. Chan’s mouth fell slightly ajar as he allowed himself to be pulled back into the space of the taller.

The normal beating of his heart gains a nervous and excited flutter as he stands before the other, gazing up into your eyes. They smolder with something deep, hot, something that could burn him, but the warmth was good. "Uh, yeah." He babbles blankly, nervously nibbling at his lower lip.

You watched his lips carefully, watching them quiver ever so slightly. You knew Chan was thinking exactly what you were. You met his eyes, leaning down closer to him, looking for any sign of distress or disagreement. When you found nothing, you moved in quicker, catching his lips quickly. Your own lips tingle at the contact, the taste of peppermint flooding your senses as your other hand shoots to Chan's collar, pulling him in even closer by the neck.

Chan felt his lids fall shut automatically as you leaned in to kiss him, he waited eagerly to receive it. Suddenly he felt a hand on his collar tugging him forward and he moans in shock. This was exactly what he wanted, what he needed. Some roughing up, and he was more than ready to get it. He leans into your touch, grabbing your shoulders as he moves his lips against your own. It felt so good to just let someone else take the lead and take what they wanted, giving him what he craved.

You were a bit taken aback by the moan, but quickly picked up on what to do. You took Chan’s bottom lip between your teeth, biting just hard enough to see how he'd react, but not enough to draw blood. You adored this; having someone squirming under you. Usually it was some high-priced hooker, or someone dumb enough to fuck you in the bathroom, but lately you haven't had much luck - so you were more than desperate, and Chan was the perfect target.

As your pants grew tighter, you kicked Chan’s chair aside to make more space. It bounced off the wall and clattered to the floor. Breathing heavily, you switched position to pin Chan to your desk. You completely lost any inhibition that told you this was probably a bad idea, and instead completely lost yourself in the slim, muscled man underneath you.

Chan jumped as your teeth scraped across his lower lip before sinking in. He took a sharp breath in, exhaling with a deep sigh. The flame inside of you was licking his skin, heating him up in the best of ways. His head spun as blood rushed to his nethers, aching to be filled and used.

Chan barely heard the noise of the chair until it fell onto the floor, opening the space around you. His dick jumps when you pin him back against the pine desk. He was drunk from the smell of earthy cologne and the rough touch, his mind was empty save for one woman, you.

You smiled into the kiss before parting your lips, "You like it rough, huh, detective?" You chuckled, keeping one hand tight on his collar. You move your other hand to lift his chin, dragging your fingertips down the column of his throat before digging your thumb into the base of his neck. Just enough to apply pressure.

You wanted to be rougher - wanted to make the man whimper and beg - but you still needed to toe the line, if you crossed a boundary, you could get fired. You pressed your hips into his, looking down on Chan’s supple lips, his half-lidded eyes, taking in the fact that you could do anything you wanted to him in that moment.

"Tell me what you want, then."

Chan felt his cheeks prickle with heat of shame, to admit something like this out loud, he could never. He opens his eyes, his pupils blown wide with pleasure as you lift his chin. He couldn't contain the shaking moan that came from his lips as his throat was squeezed. Feeling you press completely up against him felt good, felt so right to him. His lips were only slightly swollen from their lip lock, a renewed tingling from where he was bitten. Chan almost couldn't process the demand he was given, babbling the first words that came to mind.

"Fuck me," he breathes quietly, leaning further into your touch.

You smirked once more, leaning in to kiss the last bit of peppermint off his wet lips, before pushing him roughly against the desk. You took a step back, goosebumps raising on your skin from the cold air. "Take off your clothes," you commanded, before looking down and beginning to work on your belt.

You were going to fuck him until you couldn't fuck him anymore, maybe if he was good you'd even let him cum too. When you finally got off your belt, you kept it in your hand, walking to the office door and locking it. Couldn't take any risks, you thought, as you set the belt down on the desk, keeping it close as you quickly unbuttoned your shirt.

Chan obeys immediately, reaching up and making quick work of the buttons on his top. He keeps his eyes on you, not peeling them away for a second as he undresses. He allows the garment to slide from his shoulders seductively, taunting the domineering woman with light, playful eyes. After pushing aside the top of his uniform, he moves down to his well fitted black slacks. Chan unbuttons them with ease, shimmying them off to reveal his snugly fit boxer briefs. Afterward he kicks his pants to the side, dumping them beside his discarded shirt, awaiting his next commands.

You glanced backwards to the frosted glass with a worrisome look, but there was still no one there. You unbutton your black dress pants, pushing them and your underwear off in one solid motion. Your cock sprung free easily, a solid, cut, girthy 7 inches, hard as a rock and shiny at the head from your own excitement. You really hadn't been laid in a while, so you were more than eager to get this show on the road.

You looked to Chan, who stood with a playful look on his face. Oh, so he's a brat, you thought. I can play with that. You took a few steps forward and brought Chan into a kiss, deep and hungry, sliding your middle and pointer fingers in the elastic band of his boxer briefs. You pulled away after a moment, catching your breath once again as you pulled back the elastic and snapped it against his skin.

"Everything."

Chan idly licks his lips, tracing every dip and curve of your body with his eyes. For so long he admired you from afar, not daring to make a move. Now he wondered why the hell he hadn't tried anything like this before. His lips twitch into a sly little smile as he watches the other man make quick work of his clothes, hurrying back to him. He receives the kiss easily, leaning in to the larger form as if it were second nature to him.

His breath hitches as the warm fingers hook under his black undergarments, pulling them back and snapping them against his unmarked skin. Chan hooks his thumbs under his boxer briefs, holding your heated gaze as he slides them down and over his thighs. His cock sprang from the confines of the cotton, standing at attention as he kicked his underwear aside.

You were getting impatient now, especially with the sight of Chan’s cock eagerly awaiting you; if you wanted to, you could get on your knees and suck him until he couldn't stand on his own. If you wanted to, you could fuck his throat until he couldn't speak. But you weren't being paid hourly, and you had stuff to do tonight - particularly search for a new victim.

This wasn't a date, Chan came here for a fucking, and that's what he's going to get. That's all he's going to get. You wrapped your arms around Chan’s waist gently, staring down at the firm rise and fall of his abs, the dip of his hips and his cock, licking your lips hungrily. "You wanna get fucked, huh?" You mumbled.

"Turn around. Bend over."

Chan almost wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, things were getting right to the point. Things were moving without stopping, just the way he liked it. There was too much to be done later to spend too much time fooling around, as much as he would enjoy it. A quick round would help clear his head and put him in the right place to start piecing up this case.

The look in your eyes made his dick jump, sending a shiver through his compact frame. He bit his lip, turning away from you and bending over the desk. Suddenly he felt much too shy to look you in the eyes, being exposed like this. He hated and loved it all the same.

You placed your hand on the small of Chan’s back almost instinctively, running your hand over the tan, smooth flesh.

"Good little slut," you whispered as you exhaled, not even realizing you were saying it. You brought your right hand up to your lips, spitting on your long fingers. You slowly brought it down to level with Chan, moving the hand on his lower back down to spread his firm cheeks lightly, soaking up the sight of him.

"God, you're hot." Your fingers shook slightly as you pressed a lubricated finger to his hole, prodding just enough for sensation but not enough to penetrate, your love for teasing getting the best of you for a moment.

Chan arches his back, allowing his head to loll forward gently. Your warm hands coming in contact with his cooler skin, one resting in the dip of his spine. He chews on his lip anxiously, swaying his hips in anticipation as he hears you spitting on your fingers. He felt a hand part his cheeks before a wet finger rolled against his rose colored hole. Chan let out a quiet sigh, trying to stifle the noise daring to exit his lips. He couldn't be any more ready for this, but he could not get caught, and neither could you.

You decided that you shouldn't waste anymore time. You pressed your finger in slowly until your knuckles got in the way, watching the man's back rise and fall as his breath got quicker and quicker. You twist your finger as you pulled it out, adding a second one easily - a sign he's probably done this before, with some guy at the station, you assume.

You picked up the pace gradually, scissoring your fingers to loosen him up, searching for that spot that would really make him moan. Just thinking of those sounds made your cock twitch, prompting you to reach your free hand down to slowly pump it in response.

Chan felt his body jerk, a moan slipping from his kiss swollen lips. "Shit," he curses quietly as his hole is breached. He felt the long finger twist before slowly retracting before he was being stretched out with two fingers.

This was good, but Chan really wanted the main course, now. He couldn't finish the thought, his eyes rolling back with white hot pleasure. You hit the nail right on the head, curling against his prostate mercilessly. "Fuck me, Y/n," he whines, burying his face in his hands. He felt shame for saying it so loudly, anyone could've heard him.

You felt pretty proud of yourself. You’ve always prided yourself on your power over people, specifically in relationships. You could get anything you wanted easily, it just took the right plan; people were just pawns to you, technicalities. Not that you were completely cold-hearted, you’ve been known to indulge a few of your emotions from time to time- but you’ve never felt better than when you’re on top.

Which is why you kill, apart from wanting to better the city that you hope to one day raise children in - power. Around the workplace, no one knows this, though; they push you around as just the forensics girl, like you’re the technicality. You’re so much more than that. You feel your blood boil at the thought of it, as you pull your fingers out. It felt wonderful to see the tough cop begging to be fucked.

Eventually, you tire of playing around and gently remove your fingers from his entrance. Wordlessly, you reach over your desk and clumsily pull open the top drawer. Rifling around for a few bare seconds, your fingers brush over the crinkling packet of lubricant. Awkwardly pinching it between the tip of your ring finger and index nail, you lift it out of the drawer and maneuver it into your palm. Tearing the corner carelessly, you cradle your length in your hand and dribble it from base to tip. You busy your hand with spreading it along, pouring the remainder along the cleft of his ass.

A delighted hum rumbles in your chest when he jumps at the cool liquid sliding over his skin. You toss the now useless packet into the trash can beside your desk. You collect some of the lube on your fingers, taking care to spread it around before pushing back in. Once you’re satisfied with your own meticulous preparation, you lean back into the embrace of carnal desire. Pressing the head of your cock against his glistening hole sends a chill up your spine. Planting your feet, you begin to press inside of him.

It felt good to loosen up like this, no strings attached, nothing really at stake. Things would probably fall right back into their neutral friendship as if nothing happened. Afterward he'd head to his desk and take the information that you wrote down for him and try to make some connections.

There had to be a way that these murders were connected, it didn't make sense. His invasive, calculating thoughts were silenced immediately as he felt you begin stretching him out. You were much bigger than your fingers, for damn sure. Chan felt a sting, but it excited him.

You felt disappointed almost that Chan was trying to stay quiet, you always loved to hear the sounds of someone below you, but all you were getting now was a choked back whimper or the occasional soft, quiet groan. Clenching your teeth, you ground into Chan without warning, the warmth around your cock coaxing out a soft moan of your own.

You definitely needed to get laid more, if Chan keeps this shit up, and you'll be coming within minutes. You took a moment to let Chan adjust before moving into a punishing pace, reeling his hand back to smack his ass.

Chan thought he was managing well with keeping himself quiet enough, but you seemed to have a different idea. The powerful thrusts were enough to rock his whole frame and he couldn't bite his lip any harder.

"Oh!" He cried out, trying to clamp his lips shut while catching his glasses before they shot off of his face. Each moan was long and drawn out, despite his struggle to be just a little bit quieter. He bit his tongue so hard that it bled a bit, crying out in shock as the large hand claps over his ass cheek. "God- damn!" He pants, squeezing his eyes shut.

You smirked, feeling the heat pooling in your stomach already. You felt proud, finally getting Chan to show the world just how much of a slut he was. The man was practically a mess of syllables and moans, not making any sense at all, if not for the occasional curse. The desk creaked threateningly as you pounded in again, and you couldn't tell if you should be worried about the receptionist walking in or the wood splitting in half.

The 54-year-old, almost retired woman would cross herself, then immediately collapse if she heard them, undoubtedly filing a complaint to HR which would subsequently cause you to lose the one job keeping you from being arrested. Unfortunately you weren't in the best state of mind to be worried about these things, or even consider them. You leaned forward until your stomach met Chan’s back, wrapping your arm around his throat in semblance to a choke hold. You were gonna make Chan come harder than anyone had before, you were determined.

Chan whines every time you strike that special bundle of nerves, the sound keening. The sensation was beginning to get overwhelming, he was reaching his limit. "Y/n-, ah!" He moans, cutting himself off and allowing his head to hang down limply, pushing his glasses back up his nose. The smaller man could feel you leaning forward, your breasts pressing against his back.

Much to his surprise, an arm wraps around his throat and yanks him backward. His dick dripping precum, pulsing and twitching fitfully. Chan felt the heat climbing his cheeks, the lack of air pushing him to focus solely on the feeling. Soon after, it was all too much. He whimpers pitifully as he cums, shivering with each shot.

You groaned through clenched teeth as you felt Chan fluttering around you, that alone was enough to send you over the edge. You keened, loosening your grip on him immediately. He rattles with a few sharp coughs, gasping to catch his breath. "Fuck," you managed to groan, pulling out of him and frotting your length in between his cheeks.

You came, and you came hard. Thick, syrupy ropes splatter over the small of Chan’s back as you rest your head on his shoulder, planting sloppy kisses along his neck and behind his ear. You hadn't cum like that in awhile, your legs even shook slightly as you caught your breath and tried to wind yourself down. After a moment, you chuckled slightly to yourself. "Where have you been all my life, Bang Chan?"

Chan pants heavily, scrubbing a hand over his face. He allowed himself to lay limply over the edge of the desk as he recovered from the earth shattering orgasm. The wet kisses cause a shudder to run through him, sending a felt more bolts of pleasure through his sensitive body. Never in a million years would he have expected you, his friend, the bookish forensic scientist to fuck him like this. "Honestly, I don't know," he breathes, slowly regaining his strength.

You smiled slightly upon seeing the disheveled man, stepping back. Without missing a beat, you grabbed a tissue out of the box sitting on your desk and swept away the mess you created. You’d need to tackle the cum on the front of your desk next, that was a conversation that you weren’t willing to have with the custodian.

You turned your attention away from him, swiftly moving to clean up the evidence of your recent escapade. It was a quick fuck and there were no feelings to be shared, you assumed that Chan felt the same. You dressed yourself as quickly as you undressed yourself, making your way back over to the desk, rifling around for your pack of marlboros in the top drawer. Dumping yourself in the seat, you turned on the small fan on your desk to try and mask the scent of smoke as you lit one up.

"Don't tell anyone about this. DK would have my ass," you mumbled with the cigarette between your lips, inhaling the smoke deeply, and puffing it out in rings. You thought of what Dokyeom, your real boss, would think if he found out not only had you fucked a cop in your office, but offered him a cigarette afterwards.

Chan peels himself up from the desk, stretching out his back with a few cracks and pops. He pushes his glasses into place, and combs his finger through his hair to put himself back together. Decidedly, he would get dressed and head straight to the bathroom to completely clean himself up before he went back to work on the case for a bit. "There's nothing to tell." He agreed, bending over and grabbing his boxer briefs.

Chan made quick work of pulling them up and over his thighs and jumping into the rest of his clothes. Upon straightening his collar, he grabs his cap and jacket. He glances back, nodding at you before seeing himself out quietly. No words were needed, what's done is done. However, he should have definitely wiped the lube out of his ass cheeks before he left, sheesh.

You knew what to expect, so hearing the door shut wasn't that bad of a blow. You take this time to sit at your desk, skimming through anything that could possibly look bad on your part. You weren't stupid enough to keep any evidence incriminating you on your work computer, but you still had stuff to double-check in case Chan wanted on.

You updated the files with some basic information, making sure to get the rough description of the unusual suspect, or unsub, as far away from yourself as possible. You had to feel a little proud; you were only two murders down, but you had big plans, a list, even, of people to target next. You cleaned your email too, deleting all emails from your therapist, making sure to make yourself look as bland as possible.

Chan spent a few minutes in the bathroom, freshening himself up in front of the mirror. He stops, inspecting himself idly as he allows his thoughts to roam. Why did she give me so many details earlier? I didn't really mean anything serious by asking her that... Whatever. Quietly fishing around in his pocket, he pulls out his chapstick and glides it over his lips. He smacks his lips together with a soft pop, putting away the small lip balm as he pushes open the door and exits. Chan strolls down the hallway, entering the office and finding his desk. You weren't far from his mind, just sort of looming for some reason. He stares blankly at the dark computer screen, glancing up as someone walks by. Jinyoung, the chief of his department. Should he question Jinyoung about his sudden suspicion?

#sub!idol #dom!reader #domme!reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #sub!skz #sub!chan #sub!stray kids #sub!bang chan

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justheretobreakthings · 4 years ago

Text

Keith’s Scaly Secret

Written for @gentronlegendaryfriendships

Day Two: Wings AU | Adopting a Pet Together

Word Count: 2,933 Characters: Keith & Shiro Read on AO3 My house, my rules, my ko-fi

Story Summary:

Due to an upcoming dorm inspection at the Galaxy Garrison, Shiro learns that Keith has been hiding some unexpected contraband.

There was a lot about his time as a young cadet at the Galaxy Garrison that Shiro often found himself nostalgic for, but dorm life wasn’t one of them. There were times nowadays when he spent the afternoon studying with Keith and the library was too crowded, so it was usually easier to just hang out in his dorm than go all the way to Shiro’s apartment, but those times were also good reminders of Shiro’s distaste for the academy’s dorms. They were dim and cramped, the mattress on the bed was thin and the desk chairs were stiff and had terrible back support. And, although of course Shiro would never mention it out loud to him, over the last few weeks Keith’s dorm had started to take on a faint smell that Shiro couldn’t quite identify, but that didn’t seem to be from dirty laundry or old food the way most other smelly dorms were.

All in all, not Shiro’s preferred place to spend a Saturday afternoon, but with the amount of stress that upcoming linear algebra test was giving Keith, it was something he was more than willing to endure for the sake of helping his protégé get some studying done. It still was a bit of a relief, though, when they finally finished covering all the practice problems they could get and deemed the study session complete, and Keith announced that he was ready for dinner.

“Sounds good to me,” Shiro said, moving to stand from where he had been seated cross-legged on Keith’s bed and then stretching out his back. “You wanna go to the cafeteria, or would you be up for going out to eat tonight?”

“Either,” Keith said with a shrug. He shook out his hand, no doubt cramped from all the writing he’d been doing in the past couple of hours, and stood too as he closed his books. “I could go out.”

“Great,” Shiro said. He glanced at his watch before continuing, “We should probably be heading out soon anyway. Less awkward to not be in the dorm when they do the inspection, so it's definitely a good night to go out to eat. You know what, I’ve been craving onion rings, wanna go to that place across from - ” He paused as he noticed that Keith had frozen in place, eyes going wide. “Keith? What’s up?”

“What - what do you mean, the inspection?” Keith stammered.

Shiro frowned, taking a moment to realize what he meant, then he sucked in a breath through his teeth and stopped just short of slapping himself in the forehead. “Crap. Forgot we’re not supposed to say anything to you ahead of time. It’s nothing to worry about, they just go through and check each dorm to make sure there’s nothing dangerous, no contraband, and nothing’s been broken. They’re not going to get onto little things like laundry or bed not being made, so you’ll be fine.”

Keith, however, did not look reassured. “They can’t do that! That’s an invasion of privacy! It’s - they can’t - why didn’t they warn us?!”

Shiro’s frown deepened. “They said in the registration paperwork that living in the academy includes dorm checks. And it’s in the student handbook.”

Keith bit at his lip, eyes darting around the room as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I, um, I don’t - I don’t think I can go out to eat tonight.”

“Keith…” Shiro said slowly. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

At the best of times, Keith was an awful liar, and this time his ‘nothing’ answer was even less believable than usual. Immediately Shiro’s thoughts started casting about, trying to take a guess as to what Keith could possibly be hiding. He had that knife of his, but he’d entrusted Shiro to keep it in his apartment for him. Had he stolen it back? It wasn’t as if Keith hadn’t stolen before. After all, the very day they had met…

Shiro quickly shook that thought out of his head. Keith had grown a lot in the time Shiro had known him, he hadn’t lashed out that way in ages, and it wasn’t fair for Shiro to assume Keith had reverted to old habits like that. Still, he needed an answer. “Keith,” he said, trying his best to make his voice stern without sounding angry or threatening. “I’m not going to judge you for whatever you’ve got here. I promise. But you have to abide by the academy rules while you’re here the Garrison, and the staff is going to enforce those rules. I can’t do anything about that, but I can help you with whatever you need right now. Okay? So what’s going on, Keith?”

For several seconds more Keith chewed silently at his lip. Then, after a deep breath, he walked to his bed and lifted up the blanket that hung over the side of the mattress and down to the floor.

Shiro’s eyes widened.

The area under the bed was hollow, meant for students to use as storage space. Most cadets would fill the space with folded stacks of clothes, crates of books, extra bedding, and the like. When Shiro had helped Keith move into his dorm, he’d had very few personal possessions to speak of. Shiro was pretty sure that space beneath the bed had been left empty.

It wasn’t empty anymore.

Instead, a large, clear, rectangular tank stood below the bed, a little landscape inside, dirt and rocks and shrubs and water. A lamp, currently turned off, stood aimed into the tank past the chickenwire mesh that covered the top, its cord plugged into the outlet in the wall near the pillow.

And dozing on a rock in the middle of the tank... was a lizard. No more than half a foot long, speckled with scales in shades of brown up to the tail, where the brown stopped and turned to black and white stripes. The lizard turned to face Shiro when the blanket was lifted, fixing him with tiny beady eyes and darting out its tongue.

It took Shiro a while to find his voice. “Keith,” he finally said. “Why do you have a lizard?”

“I’m sorry!” Keith cried, and when Shiro looked back up at him, he was surprised to see the agitation on his face, and the tremor in his hands as he wrung them together. “I found her in the student garage and I took her outside and set her loose but then when I went back there again later she was back and I didn’t want to just leave her there because she might have gotten run over or one of the other students might have found her and hurt her so I took her back to my dorm and she seemed to like it here so - ”

“Hey, hey,” Shiro said, lifting his hands and making a calming gesture toward Keith. “You need to breathe, okay? I’m not mad at you, I’m not. I just - I’m - I’m a little shocked. I didn’t expect that.”

“Please don’t turn me in,” Keith said. He moved his hands to start wringing them in the fabric of his shirt. “I was just trying to help her, I wasn’t doing anything bad, I swear.”

“Her?” Shiro repeated.

Keith nodded. “Um, the, uh - for zebra-tailed lizards, the males have these black markings on the side and blue ones on their stomach. The females don’t.”

“Ah,” Shiro said. “You really did your homework for this thing, didn’t you?”

Keith nodded again, and Shiro got down on his knees to get a closer look at the tank. The lizard stuck her tongue out at him again as his face neared her, and she darted off the rock to hide among some grass instead. “Where did you get all this?”

“Just brought the dirt and plants and stuff in from outside. And I’ve been catching bugs for food.”

“What about the tank and the lamp?”

Keith didn’t answer, and Shiro squinted closely at the lamp. “Hang on, are these from the student bio lab?”

“They weren’t using them!” Keith snapped. “The tank was empty when I found it and the lamp wasn’t even working right, I had to fix it myself! It’s not like anyone even noticed the stuff was gone!”

“Did you get permission to take the tank and the lamp, Keith?”

“I - ” He hesitated, and Shiro turned back toward him to see his arms crossed again, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “If I’d asked someone, they would have said no.”

“Well…” Shiro sighed. “Well, yeah, they definitely would have. You know you’re not allowed to keep a pet in your dorm.”

“But I - ” Keith’s chin trembled. “I was doing good, I swear. I did all the research and I’ve been feeding her well and - and I wasn’t gonna do anything to her. I wasn’t gonna hurt her or use her for a prank or anything, I swear. I promise, I was being good. I was being responsible. I promise. I just - I just wanted to help her.”

Shiro frowned as he straightened up, putting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Keith? Hey, look at me.” It took a moment, but Keith complied, turning dewy eyes up toward Shiro. “This has nothing to do with that. Okay? I don’t think that you were going to hurt her, and I’m sure you’re a very responsible pet owner. I know you meant well, Keith, I know you did. But there are other reasons it’s not allowed. The lizard could escape the tank and get lost in the Garrison, or make a mess. Or that lamp could have overheated when you had it on and burned your bed. And you’re supposed to be focusing on your classes and your flying, not on taking care of an animal. There’s also the small matter of you taking things out of the lab without permission…”

Keith chewed at his lip silently for a long moment before he spoke. “Am I gonna get kicked out?” he asked, voice cracking on the words.

Shiro shushed him lightly, squeezing his shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. Tell you what, I can get this taken care of, okay? We can save going out to eat for tomorrow, and tonight I’ll sort out the whole, uh, lizard situation. It’s gonna be fine. But we have to get the lizard out of your dorm, and we have to get the tank and the lamp back to the lab where it belongs. You understand that, right?”

“Yeah,” Keith said quietly. “I guess.”

“Okay.” He gave Keith’s shoulder one more pat before moving to slide the tank out from under the bed. He unplugged the lamp and laid it on top, then hauled the tank into his arms and got to his feet with a grunt. “You got any extra blanket or anything in here? Something we can cover this up with?”

Keith went to his closet, pulled out an oversized towel, and helped drape it over the tank, blocking its contents from view. “Thanks,” Keith said. “I’m, um - I’m sorry. About all of this.”

“I know, it’s okay,” Shiro said, giving him a soft smile. “I’m not mad, Keith. You’re not in trouble. But no more stealing from the labs, okay? And no more secret pets. Can you promise me that?”

“Yeah,” Keith mumbled. “Promise.”

“Good. Take it easy, Keith. I’ll see you tomorrow for that dinner, okay?”

Keith nodded, and Shiro gave him one last smile before opening the door and stepping into the hall and out of sight.

True to his word, Shiro was right on time the following day to pick Keith up for their promised meal. Keith was quiet as he climbed into the passenger seat of Shiro’s car, forlorn as he stared out the window at the buildings they passed.

“Everything go okay for you last night?” Shiro asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Mm-hm,” Keith said.

“You pass your dorm inspection?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good. You know, I still need to give that towel of yours back to you, don’t I?” Keith replied with a non-committal grunt. “Tell you what, we can swing by my apartment before we eat and I can grab it for you.”

Keith raised a brow at him. “Or you could wait until next time you’re at the dorms.”

“Eh, I’d rather do it now. Don’t want to risk forgetting it. It’s fine, it’s on the way, it’ll only take a couple of minutes.”

“... Okay,” Keith said. He frowned at Shiro for a moment longer, but when Shiro didn’t say anything else or take his eyes off the road, he slowly turned back to gazing out the window.

A few minutes later they were parked in the lot outside of Shiro’s building, and Shiro turned the car off, unbuckled, and stepped out. He didn’t close the door behind him, though, and instead peeked back into the car. “You coming?” he asked.

“You’re just getting the towel, right?” said Keith. “Why do I need to come up?”

“Well, don’t want you overheating in the car. Come on. For my peace of mind.”

Keith sighed, but he unbuckled and climbed out of the car too with no further argument, and Shiro smiled as he led them up the stairs to the apartment he and Adam shared. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, stepping in first and then standing aside so Keith could see. Halfway past the threshold, Keith froze.

“Shiro?” he said. “Is that…?”

“Yep,” Shiro said, his grin broadening as Keith stepped slowly into the apartment. The faded loveseat that used to be up against the far wall had been moved further out into the den, and in its place stood a solid black table topped by a glass terrarium, fifty gallons at least if not bigger. It had the works: a substrate heater along the bottom frame, UVB lamp at the top, ventilated windows, a full biome inside bursting with cacti and succulents and various colors of dirt and rock surrounding a crystal-clear oasis in the center.

And resting atop a decorative cow skull, poking her head up from between the fronds of a ponytail palm that was giving her shade, was a very familiar zebra-tailed lizard.

“How did you - why did you - ?” Keith stammered.

“Well, see, Adam and I have been thinking about getting a pet for a while,” Shiro said, strolling toward the terrarium as Keith trailed behind in awe. “Initially, I actually had wanted to adopt a cat, but Adam’s allergic. And he grew up with mynah birds so we thought maybe we could get one of those, but it turns out this building doesn’t allow birds since they tend to cause noise problems. A lizard, though - they don’t make any noise, they don’t have any fur to set off allergies. It just made sense.”

“When did you get all this stuff?”

“Bought it last night, finished setting it all up this morning. Then I moved the lizard into the new tank, cleaned out the one you’d been using, and dropped that off back at the bio lab before I picked you up. She likes it, I think. She seemed to be really getting into exploring.”

Keith peered down into the terrarium with wide eyes. “So - so she’s officially yours now? Yours and Adam’s?”

“And yours,” Shiro said. When Keith turned curious eyes on him, he shrugged. “Well, you were the one who started taking care of her first, right? So I’m definitely going to need your help with her, especially when I’m not around. Besides, I think she missed you.”

“Can I?” Keith asked, gesturing to the latch on the screen top.

“Go ahead,” Shiro said.

Keith opened up the latch and set his hand down into the dirt next to the cow skull decoration. The lizard took a moment to gaze at it before scampering onto his palm, and Keith grinned as he pulled his arm out and she began skittering along his arm.

“By the way,” Shiro added as he watched, “Now that we’re official pet owners, you should really come up with a name for her. Got any suggestions?”

“Lizard,” Keith answered without hesitation.

“Are… are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Keith looked away from the lizard long enough to give Shiro an exasperated glance, as if this was something obvious that Shiro had no business being confused by. “Because she’s a lizard.”

“I, uh, I guess I can’t argue with that. Okay, Lizard it is.”

For a few moments more he contented himself simply watching as Keith let Lizard clamber around him, crawling up and down his arm and at one point slipping into his shirt collar and then reemerging in the cuff of his sleeve. Finally, though, his stomach gave a little rumble of impatience, and Shiro tapped Keith’s shoulder for his attention. “We’ve still got that dinner ahead of us,” he said. “You cool with taking a break for now, coming back later?”

“All right,” Keith said. He guided Lizard back into his hand and placed her back in the terrarium, letting his hand hover inside the tank for a few seconds as though reluctant to part with her before latching it shut again and turning around.

Shiro grinned and thumped him on the back. “No worries, kiddo. She’ll be right here waiting for us when we get back.”

“I know,” Keith said with a nod. He paused a moment, then with a hastily muttered, “Thanks,” he gave Shiro a quick one-armed hug before darting out to lead the way back down to the car. Shiro followed him with a smile.

#gentronweek #vldgen #keith #shiro #this one's just fluff #my writing #fic: keith's scaly secret

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lxvesickreality · 5 years ago

Text

mistakes 3/4

Request: same request from first one

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: angst, heavy swearing, again angst because this is nothing but angst except for the tiniest bit of fluff near the end

Word Count: 2777

Add on: i have been inactive lately due to lack of inspiration so hopefully i can regain it with the tips given to me by @queenofthehairharrington << go check out those imagines! also, the inspiration that has been hitting a bit recently hasn’t included the requests so i may take a break from them and come back to the later. thanks for all the support and 200 followers<3

gif is NOT mine, full credit to owners

8 hours, 17 minutes, 47 seconds

That’s how long the team had left to find his missing wife. With the video sent out just a few hours ago, it’d felt like an eternity to Steve. His wife was gone, somewhere with a death threat stuck on her back and there was no clue leading the way to her location. He couldn’t stop picturing the look on Y/N’s face when her eyes finally made their way to the camera. She was terrified, absolutely frightened and there was no nope shining in her e/c eyes that he loved so much. It was the first thing he fell in love with which sounds incredibly cheesy but the moment he looked into them, he saw the curiosity that was up in flames. He told her before, “Curiosity killed the cat,” but she laughed at him and said, “But satisfaction brought it back,”. In the beginning for them, it was full of honesty, loyalty, passion, and her curiosity, of course. Then it turned to hell all because of him and his stupid mistakes.

“We’re going to find her, Steve. Don’t give up,” Steve was sat outside on the grass looking out into the lake by his home, watching the ducks being fed by Sam and the others out in the middle of the lake. It was beautiful at dawn with the sun rising from just over at the other end of the lake. He knew by sitting here he was just losing time but he had to take a breather.

Finally, his blue eyes that had a hint of green reached up to stare at his best friend, sadness pooling in his eyes, “How do you know that, Bucky? We’ve got 8 hours. We’ve already lost so much time.” his voice cracked, new tears setting in.

“Because I just know. C’mon, get up,” his best friend repeatedly shook his head, refusing to get up from his spot. He wasn’t ready to head back inside to face the team who still gave them expressions of disappointment. He would do that to himself as well, he cheated and he deserved everything he got from them. He didn’t treat his woman right. 1940′s Steve would be severely displeased with the modern Steve. He promised his wife he wouldn’t hurt her, he’d protect her at all costs even if it meant the cost was his life and he downright failed 100%. If they get her, he doubted she will want to be with him especially with his luck nowadays.

“I made a huge mistake, Buck, a fucking huge one,” Bucky wasn’t used to Steve using this vulgar language and he usually was the one to tell everyone to stop but his friend was hurt and broken. Steve had stopped a few inches from where Bucky was and he faced his best friend, the tears falling down bit by bit that held the intense sadness forming in his heart. He really has given up, Bucky thought. “I don’t even think she’ll come back to me after all of this, back to our home we just finished building a few months ago. Bucky, why am I such a big idiot? I don’t know what was running through my mind. I mean I fought against Sharon the first few times she did it but the last time...I caved.”

“Steve,” Bucky laid a hand reassuringly on his shoulder. “you wanna know what Y/N told Tony and Natasha? She said it’d take time but with that given time, she’ll learn to forgive you. She loves you, she married you, Steve. She’ll come around and we will find her. Natasha thinks she has a lead so come on. Dry up those big, fat tears and go talk to her. One step closer.”

“So we know where she is?” Steve questioned as him and Bucky arrive to the conference room the team was in minus Sam and Wanda.

Natasha shook her head,”Not exactly, but I have an idea. Tony, bring up the video and pause it when he shows the timer.” Tony nodded and almost immediately had the video up at the right spot. “See those designs on the door handle? They’re made specially in Alaska and only Alaska. We’ve got it narrowed down to very few cities but even then, we still have to find the exact place.”

“I know where that is at.” Wanda reveals. Steve felt a rush of relief slither its way down his body and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, we got you, Y/N.

“Lets go then, what are we waiting for?”

“There isn’t an entrance, Steve. They somehow zap themselves in and out of the building and it’s underground.”

Steve felt the walls crumble around him and the small sliver of hope he was just given was ripped away just as quick it was given to him. Reality seemed so far away from him all of a sudden, Bucky’s voice was like an echo and Steve’s heart felt like it was going to burst out if it got any faster. There was no more hope. They were at 7 hours already and she was all the way in Alaska plus Bruce would most likely have to build something to get inside of this building which could take days. He may not even have the equipment for it. It was over, he’d lost his wife for good and in just a few hours, he will be a widow. She was going to dead.

Steve forced his way through the part of the team behind him, running out of the conference room with the heaviest heart that hung as low as the moon and it was turned to blue, color of the sadness and devastation he felt. It was over. She was gone. He could vaguely hear his best friend behind him, yelling and begging for him to stop what he was doing but honestly, Steve didn’t even know what he was doing. He couldn’t stop running or that was until Pepper made an appearance and Steve tripped. With the loud bang of him hitting his head off the wall echoing, it went dark for him and he was pulled into a dream.

Today was the day. The wedding day. Steve had waited 3 years to marry this woman and he couldn’t be happier to do so. He met her on the day of the battle against Loki and he’d saved her from getting killed when she ran out into the road to help him. Steve took one glance at her e/c eyes that sparkled as the sun beamed down on the both of them and he knew he was going to marry this brave woman who tried to save someone she didn’t know. Fury must’ve thought something similar and decided to have her join S.H.I.E.L.D. after witnessing the fight she did.

To say Steve was nervous was an understatement, he was anxious and tense as he wanted the wedding to go well without an interference of work. Fury promised there was no upcoming missions nor was there nobody trying to take over the world. The wedding day was spontaneous, they’d had the whole wedding details planned out before picking a day because of the line of work they both had so when there was an available day for everyone, Steve set it all up where the love of his life chose. A fall wedding, in the woods where they found a clearing close to their favorite place; the waterfall where the first ‘i love you’ was exchanged, the first kiss, and their first intimate time.

The ceremony was beautiful, she was beautiful. The dress was snug and tight at her breasts and torso until it got to her waist where it flowed nicely to the ground and the trail was a few feet long covered in a white lace design. The back was open where he could feel her soft skin when he dipped her to kiss her dark shade of pink stained lips but his favorite part was the little tiara she wore to keep the train in place that was layered with sapphire stones. She was his queen and he was her king now.

“I love you, Steven Grant Rogers.”

“I love you too, Y/N M/N Rogers.”

5 hours, 54 minutes, 27 seconds

“Bruce, I think he’s waking up! Steve? Rogers?” Steve’s eyes fluttered open shining his bright blue eyes that held the hint of green in them but was already beginning to hold tears in. His head throbbed in pain as the memory of him hitting his head came rushing back quickly.

“Hey, bud, you had all of us worried there for a moment.” Bucky said, coming into view from behind Natasha.

Blinking rapidly, he shot up from the plain white bed, “How long was I out for? How much time do we have left?”

“Steve, that’s not important right now. The rest of the team is working on it and you need to rest. You have a minor concussion that needs to be nursed a like a raging hangover.”

“How long, Bucky?”

“5 hours and 48 minutes.” said his best friend sulking in defeat. “But you need to relax, Steve.”

“Relax? RELAX? Bucky, my fucking wife is out there probably beaten to a fucking bloody ass pulp and barely hanging on. I am not going to lay down and ‘nurse’ a fucking minor concussion that will not affect my help in this. My wife will come out alive, Bucky. Now, help me go help Bruce. We have to find a way into there.”

“We already found a way.”

Steve’s eyes shot to his best friend but the appearance of guilt that had a mix of satisfaction stopped the hope that was trying to worm its way to his heart. He’d done something stupid. “What did you do, Buck?”

“I told H.Y.D.R.A. I’d come back if they gave us Y/N. They said they’d do it as long as you don’t fight back.”

“YOU WHAT?”

The two boys continued to fight and bicker about Bucky’s well being, both of them oblivious to Natasha and Tony running in there yelling something at them they weren’t able to comprehend. Steve was beyond furious, no word can describe the anger he had. Giving himself to H.Y.D.R.A? Was he stupid? That was a stupid question to ask because clearly he was.

“You lost all hope to find your wife, Steve. We all did!”

Steve nostrils flared with anger, “And you think I don’t know that? I’ve already lost her. How am I supposed to cope with the loss of you too?” Bucky let his eyes focus on the floor instead of looking into his best friends eyes. He was incredibly angry with him but he didn’t care. His wife mattered a lot to everyone and he wasn’t going to stand by and act like he couldn’t do anything to help it. H.Y.D.R.A. has wanted him from the beginning, he can endure a few more years with them if it meant Steve got his happiness back. “I can’t believe you did this, Buck,”

“I’d do anything for my best friend, Steve. Even if it meant enduring just a little bit more pain.”

“They’re here,” Natasha announced, catching the boys’ attention and Steve’s facial expression went blank. Nobody could tell what he was thinking or feeling, it just seemed like he was empty with no feelings at all and they didn’t know what was worse. Not knowing what he was going to do or knowing what he was going to do. He had a plan, Natasha could see that and so could everyone else as they stepped out of the compound with hard glares towards H.Y.D.R.A. who arrived not 5 minutes earlier.

The team stood in front of the many men they brought, heavy hearts with the information of Bucky being traded off with Y/N. They knew Y/N would beat all of them if she found out Bucky was doing this and she’ll find out soon enough. Will it be before he’s taken away or after? That was a popular question.

“So,” a leader stepped forward with a proud smirk on his face. “The Winter Soldier has finally stepped forward, he’s not a coward. That’s nice to know.”

“Never was one, just didn’t want to be around you. You tortured me-”

“Yet, you want to come back in exchange for your best friends girl. How brave and heroic. Well, Mr. Barnes, things have changed. We don’t want you. You’ve been too compromised. It’s been too long.”

The dreaded feeling sunk deep into Steve’s skin, soaking in every ounce of hope he had once again. Hope just wasn’t for him anymore. His wife was his hope and she isn’t here. His heart clenched and he willed himself to not cry, not to show weakness towards them because they would kill her as a game to go against him. Instead, he clenched his hands into fists and let the hope be taken over by anger. He was done.

“I’m done. I’m so fucking done with you men toying with others. That’s my wife you have and if you don’t give her back, I will wipe out every fucking person in every H.Y.D.R.A. base. So help me god, I will tear everyone limb from limb!” Steve let himself threaten these men not caring about the language he has continued to use the last few days. The leader didn’t have to say it, he was terrified of the former soldier and the way he looked at him made his blood run cold. Steve was serious. “Have her come home.”

The leader turned his torso to look at another man, nodding his head in confirmation of something and spun back around. He couldn’t show fear in front of his men but he didn’t want to lose everything. “We want you to come join us in exchange for-”

“Done. I’ll do it. Just bring her fucking home.”

“Steve!” there was many protests against his decision, none of them wanting to lose Steve Rogers.

“Bring her out, boys.”

Then there she was.

Bruised and beaten up. Clear broken bones in several places and cuts that were still profusely bleeding but the girl’s corner of her lips lifted up in a relieved smile upon seeing her husband. Steve didn’t hesitate to run towards her, past the men of H.Y.D.R.A. and through the line of cars and helicopter they brought Y/N on to get to his wife. Immediately, his arms wrapped around her in an embrace and the tears suddenly started to flow down but Steve didn’t care, his girl was here and alive. Bruised and beaten up, she still was the most beautiful woman in his entire life. He whispered in her ear ‘I love you’ over and over until she said it back with the same amount of love in her voice. He pulled back only to catch her lips in his.

“Okay, lovebirds, we need to get going. Rogers, let’s go. Say your goodbye and let’s go.”

“What?” her voice was hoarse and scratchy, full of confusion. “Steve, what’re they talking about?”

“Bucky is going to look after you, Y/N. Just for a little while and I’ll be home before you know it. You just gotta hang in there, baby. Okay?”

She shook her head, putting aside the massive headache that pounded through the temples of her head, “No, no, no, Steven, please. Please don’t leave me.”

“I don’t have a choice, baby. I’ll be back soon. I love you so much.” a few men came up behind Steve, taking his hands off of his wife’s body and handcuffing them behind his back. “I love you, Y/N Rogers. So fucking much.”

She screamed, she screamed at them to let him go and they didn’t listen. They continued to the car that was a few feet away from them, dragging the love of her life in front of them away from her. She let herself fall to her knees, ignoring the pain in the one that was broken and screamed for him to come back.

With the door closing behind him, she whispered one final thing, no more voice to scream and she wished he heard, “I forgive you,”

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t know until he came back years later down the road when they let him go.

#steve rogers imagines #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america imagines #captain america x reader #captain america #marvel #marvel imagine

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years ago

Text

1005.

What battery percentage is your phone on right now? >> 93%.

Do any medical afflictions run in your family? >> I have no idea what I’m genetically predisposed to.

Who did you last talk to in person and what did you say? >> Sparrow. I don’t remember, it was just a casual interaction.

What's your favourite Mexican dish? >> That’s tough. I do like quesadillas a lot, but ultimately there are hardly any Mexican foods that I would say no to.

Have you ever been to a professional sports game? >> No.

How far do you live from New York City? >> A few hundred miles.

How often do you talk to your parents? >> I don’t.

Do you prefer pads, tampons or something else? >> I prefer to never have a period ever again, if I can help it.

What was the weather like in your town today? >> Mild and sunny.

Are there any phrases or words that you say a lot? >> I mean, probably, but the thing is, I can never remember what they are when asked. If I say something a lot, it becomes unremarkable and not worth remembering.

How many boyfriends or girlfriends have you ever had? >> Too many.

Have you ever ordered a specially made cake from a cake shop? >> Does a wedding cake count?

What was the last movie you saw and who did you watch it with? >> Vampires vs the Bronx. I watched it by myself.

What's the name of your first real boyfriend or girlfriend? >> Meh.

Do you clean your ears daily? >> Not daily.

What accent do you have? >> I assume it’s a generic American anchorman type accent.

What scent of air freshener do you keep in your bathroom? >> Why would I keep an air freshener in the bathroom? The last thing bathrooms need are more smells.

Have you ever dated a model? >> No.

What's the best job you've ever had? >> Selling merch for local bands at their shows.

How about the worst? >> The other jobs I’ve had.

Do you have naturally straight hair? >> Not at all.

What is your ultimate goal in life? >> ---

Have you ever visited someone in prison? >> No.

What months were you and your siblings born in? >> I was born in May.

Do you write down your passwords in a physical place to prevent losing them? >> No, I use a sort of algorithm for my passwords, so while they are always different for every site, I can still figure out what it is.

What are your three favourite vegetables? >> Oh, damn. Can I just lump “leafy greens” in as all one type of vegetable? Gonna cheat and do it anyway. Greens, carrots, tomatoes.

How many times a day do you check Facebook or any other social network? >> I check facebook like 3 times a week.

When was the last time you had a blockednose? >> I don’t remember.

Who is your favourite comedian? >> Dylan Moran, Tiffany Haddish, John Mulaney, Bo Burnham.

What colour are the socks you're wearing today? >> I wore black socks with a space print when I went out earlier today.

What did you have for dinner last night? >> Just some sweet potato fries.

What was the last concert you went to? >> Er... I think that was Hozier.

Are you an ugly crier? >> As self-conscious as I already am about having emotions in a visible manner, the last thing I want to do is call myself ugly about it too. Christ.

What scent is the soap or body wash you use in the shower? >> I don’t remember what the scent of the soap I currently have is supposed to be.

Have you ever had sex in/on a vehicle? >> Once outworld, at least twice Inworld.

Who do you live with? >> My spouse.

What letter does your street name begin with? >> W.

Do you do anything to groom your eyebrows? >> Nope.

When was the last time you ate at McDonald's? >> It’s definitely been a while.

What's your favourite Popsicle flavour? >> I never was a popsicle person until we started going to the farmer’s market and got hooked on this one lady’s homemade popsicles. She uses fresh fruit and makes the best flavour combinations. Right now I’m fantasising about one called “London Fog” which is earl grey, coconut milk, and lavender. It’s the most luscious shade of purplish-grey, too.

Who was the last person you sent a Facebook message to and what did you say? >> Casey, I think. It was a short discussion about the SSI approval process.

Do you have any injuries at the moment? >> No.

Have you ever been to an ophthalmologist? >> No.

Do you own any animal print clothes? >> Nope.

Are you tall, short or average? Would you change this? >> Average, I assume. I don’t care to change it, my height is one of the few things about my body that has never bothered me.

When was the last time you went to a drug store/pharmacy? >> I don’t remember. We’ll have to go to one soon, to get flu shots. Hopefully this weekend.

Do you ever binge-watch TV shows? >> Not really. I used to, but nowadays I get restless after two episodes (or three or so, if it’s a 20-minute show as opposed to a 45-minute or hour).

Have you ever mustered up the courage to tell someone how you feel only to be rejected? >> I mean, I guess. I’ve made overtures towards people that were rebuffed, but not necessarily in a way that felt... particularly rejecting, I guess? Either they were particularly tactful or I just didn’t take it as hard as I could have.

Do you keep your files and documents organised in one place? >> Yeah. I only have a few, anyway.

What's your favourite sweet treat to bake? >> ---

Are you good at flirting and letting people know you're interested? >> ---

What did you have for breakfast today? >> The same thing I have every day.

Do you prefer sweet or savoury breakfasts? >> Savoury only. If there’s sweet stuff involved, like french toast with syrup, it has to be paired with something savoury or I won’t eat it.

Do you like chick-flicks? >> Generally not, I guess. But there’s always exceptions; I love Legally Blonde, for example.

Have you ever taken an acting class? >> No.

What is your favourite kind of berry? >> This is tough. I really don’t want to choose, but I guess if I had to, I’d pick strawberry.

When was the last time you watched one of your favourite movies? >> A while ago, I guess.

How often do you use Youtube? >> I use it fairly often while playing FFXIV because I look up dungeon guides and class guides. Other than that, I watch it maybe once a week or so, to catch up with channels I’m subscribed to or watch things I’ve saved or heard about.

Do you prefer Prince or Michael Jackson? >> I don’t listen to either, but I guess I’d rather listen to MJ than Prince.

What's the coolest thing you've ever dressed up as for Halloween? >> I’ve never dressed up for Halloween.

Are you ignoring anyone right now? >> No.

How do you usually style your hair? >> I don’t.

Do you have any tattoos? Tell me about them. >> Yeah. I feel like I’ve explained them a million times, but the short version is: Mannaz rune, the number XIX with a spider dangling from the I, and “scully, it’s me” which is an obvious X-Files reference (especially if you see Sparrow’s “mulder, it’s me” at the same time).

Have you ever worked in a store while someone shoplifted there? >> No.

When was the last time you used a stove? >> I don’t usually use the stove, so I don’t remember. Probably the last time I made tea.

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to eat? >> Of course.

Are you sitting, standing or laying (or something else) right now? >> Reclining.

How many hours per week do you typically work? >> ---

What was the last pill or tablet you took? >> A CBD capsule.

How far away from your house is the closest grocery store? >> Meijer is about a five- to ten-minute drive away.

Have you ever lived in university/college campus housing? >> No.

Who was the last person you complimented? >> I told someone I liked their glamour (outfit) on FFXIV.

Are you the type of person to take naps, even if you've slept plenty? >> I don’t usually take naps. The only time I do so is when it’s completely unavoidable, like I’m falling asleep at the keyboard.

Do you have a crush on anyone at the moment? >> No.

The age old question: dogs or cats? >> I prefer dogs.

When was the last time you saw your best friend? >> ---

Do you know any couples who resemble each other? >> No.

Have you ever been fired from a job? Why? >> No.

Are you tired right now? >> Not particularly, but it is getting close to my bedtime so I probably will be soon.

Do you like spring rolls? >> I do!

What do you live on in terms of a street, road, crescent, place, court etc? >> Drive.

How many purses or handbags do you own? >> I have a holster type bag, if that counts.

Do you get along with all your aunts and uncles? >> ---

Have you ever eavesdropped and heard something you didn't want to hear? >> Yeah, that happened all the time when I was a child. I had this weird self-destructive habit of listening in on my guardians’ conversations about me, which were almost always on the negative side. I don’t know why I didn’t just... stop eavesdropping. I had to know I wasn’t ever going to hear anything good. So I call it “self-destructive” because, like, why else was I doing it if not to just punish myself?

When was the last time you used a pen, pencil or marker? >> A few hours ago, adding something new to my FFXIV daily-to-do list.

What's your favourite type of curry? >> I have no idea.

Do you often go to do or say something and then just forget? >> Yeah.

Who makes you laugh the hardest? >> I don’t know, man.

Have you ever had casual sex? >> Unfortunately.

What was the last thing you paid for with cash? >> Admission to the Meijer Gardens.

What's the last letter of your middle name? >> W.

If your phone rang right now from a number you don't know, would you answer? >> I never answer my phone.

How long is your hair? >> Like... one centimeter.

What was your first pet's name and how did you pick that? >> Roxie. I think my father chose it, idk.

Do you drink diet or regular soda? >> I don’t drink soda most of the time, but when I do, it’s always regular.

Have you ever been to Europe? >> No.

Do you worry about your own health? >> I mean, sometimes. Not obsessively or anything.

Who did you last make plans with, and what plans did you make? >> ---

Can you smell anything right now? >> Not really.

How old were you when you got your first cell phone? >> Seventeen.

When was the last time you bought a pair of shoes? >> Around this time last year, probably? Or maybe a little earlier, idr.

Do you like fruit and vegetable combo juices? >> Depends on exactly what fruits and vegetables are involved.

Have you ever been on a spring break trip? >> No.

Would you rather be warmer or colder right now? >> I’m at the perfect temperature right now.

How tall are your highest heels? >> ---

What's your favourite flavour of frosting? >> ---

When did you wake up today? >> Around 7.30, I think. Or maybe earlier. I don’t remember.

Do you change your appearance often? >> No. There’s really nothing to change.

What colour are the street signs in your town/suburb? >> Green, I think.

Have you ever blocked someone on Facebook? Why? >> Probably, a long time ago. Because they were annoying, I’d assume.

How many people do you work with? >> ---

What was the last thing you ate? >> Half a lemon coconut cookie.

Do you have any plans for three hours in the future? >> I plan to be asleep then.

Has anyone ever made a comment about your weight that offended or upset you? >> Thankfully not.

#surveys #survey #random survey #not for reblogging *glare*

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bittysvalentines · 5 years ago

Text

Cafes and Triumvirates

From: @hargreeves-and-wine

To: @omgtranspoindexter

Summary: Love is a mosaic, if one takes the time to think about it. The way we feel for those who love is comprised of all the moments we share with them. In sickness and in health, for better and for worse. Over the course of a day, Chowder, Dex, and Nursey find themselves dwelling on moments that make them fall in love with their partners all over again.

Rating: T

Content warning: One mention of offscreen (but legal) drinking.

Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you enjoy this fic!

Chowder - The Morning

Wiping down the windows was a chore normally despised by anyone who had ever worked in a restaurant. There were always the streaks that could never be properly cleaned away, no matter the angle at which you wiped them. Reaching up to get the top edges would often result in the cleaning liquid running down your arm. Hell, it only took a bug that was flying haphazardly for your hard work to be ruined.

Yet Chris regarded it as the second best part of doing the opening shift; the first, of course, being the pastries and cookies that were delivered first thing in the morning from Bittle’s Kitchen down the block. From their perch 15 inches off the ground, they were able to reach and clean the windows with ease. Each swipe of the squeegee helped reveal another slice of the daily lives of the other residents of Samwell Street.

There was Lardo, putting the finishing touches on a large mural she had been commissioned to paint on the side of the Knight, O’Meara, and Wicks Law Office. Further down the way, they could see Ransom and Holster walking their troop of dogs and a cat (who, Chris had been told, was raised around dogs since birth before the men adopted her). Even from behind the glass and fairly heavy front door of the Samwell Stoop, they could hear Holster’s joyful voice bouncing off of the cobblestones of the street.

Only one sight, however, could bring a full on grin to Chris’ face at this hour of the morning. Just in front of the pane of glass, Dex was busy checking off the week’s supplies that had been brought in the delivery truck while Nursey was bringing down a large box of milkettes and creamers with one arm. The moment that Dex turned around to confirm something with the driver, Nursey snagged a butter tart from the platter the former was saving to give to said driver.

“Well, thanks again, Johnson,” Dex finished as he handed a paper back to the driver. “We actually saved you a little something for your- Nurse! What the hell?”

Nursey shrugged as they offered out the other half of the tart. “Did you want one?” They, thankfully, had the good grace to swallow before speaking.

“You are simply unbelievable, stealing a gift of all things.” Despite his chiding, Dex indeed took the offered tart and popped into his mouth before giving Johnson the rest of the platter. “Now you better take this before my idiot partner gets their hands on more of them.”

As Johnson got into his truck and pulled away, Nursey hugged Dex from behind and pecked his cheek. “You know, you’re adorable when you blush,” they murmured, only causing Dex to turn an even darker shade of red.

With a friendly tap on the window pane with his squeegee, Chris got the attention of both of his partners. They honestly didn’t mean to be a voyeur; in fact, they weren’t sure if they could be one since they were dating the two of them. Still, Chris figured they would appreciate being informed that they weren’t alone.

“Oh shit, Chowder!” Dex abruptly pulled away from Nursey and hurried inside the cafe with one hand behind his back. It was only when they climbed down from the stepstool that Chris saw what Dex was hiding. “You didn’t think we’d actually forget to save one for you, did you?”

The moment they’d taken a bite out of the butter tart, Chris was crushed in a tight hug between the two of them. Nursey’s aftershave and Dex’s cologne enveloped them in a feeling that could only be described as home.

Dex - The Afternoon

“What do you mean you’re out of maple pecan pie?”

Will, who was using his break in the back room to be out of his binder for a while, could just hear the complaint. As he peeked outside to see what was going on, he could see a guy who stood at a height of about 6’4 at the counter, staring down Chowder. Just behind them, Derek was handing a girl her cup while watching the situation at the same time.

“Look, sir.” Chowder may have been slightly dwarfed by this man, but one didn’t become a goalie by showing their fear. “We only get so many pies delivered at the start of the day, so if we run out, we run out. Of course, I could go over to Bitty’s Kitchen, use my own money to get another pie, and let my partner here take over this massive lineup all by himself. Would that satisfy you, sir?” The conversations in the cafe had given way to silence as the patrons turned to watch.

The tall customer only folded his arms and doubled down. “I paid for a slice of pie, and I demand that I get what I paid for,” he huffed, doing his best to give Chowder something that resembled the evil eye.

Nursey feigned wiping his hands on his aprons, but Will could see that he was actually cracking his knuckles. “You haven’t paid for anything yet. My partner here has tried being civil, but it’s clear you’re not listening.” Even though they weren’t quite at the customer’s height, Nursey had a way of commanding attention when it was needed.

“Is it so wrong to expect a slice of pie with my coffee?”

“If you want pie, then go and get it yourself.”

“I demand to speak to the manager!”

“You already are, asshole.”

Though it was a crisp fall afternoon outside, there was clearly a gathering storm within these four walls. Will had fully emerged from the break room and was about to approach the counter when Chowder silently motioned for him to stay back. It was almost scary to see the perpetually chill Nursey standing with such contempt behind their eyes.

The tension in the air was finally broken when the customer stalked off, muttering something about “ungrateful millennials” as he pushed the door open. Then, Nursey relaxed their stance and turned to the crowd. “I can help someone over here!”

Before too long, Will was due to get back behind the counter. As Chowder passed him on the way to their own break, the two of them stopped to briefly hold hands. A similar blush coloured both of their cheeks when their eyes met.

“You were brave.” Will murmured, longing to wrap his partner in a hug.

Chowder shook his head, though they squeezed Dex’s hand back. “You’d have done the same.”

Once he was behind the counter, Nursey gave him a look as if to say “I’m okay, I’m alright.” Still, Will decided to give their hip a little bump since anything beyond that would probably be seen as unprofessional. While they were technically their own bosses, Will insisted that the three of them treat one another as coworkers as long as they were on the clock. They just happened to be coworkers who snuck in kisses when they had the chance.

Nursey - The Night

It’s been said that the way to a person’s heart is through their stomach, but as far as Derek was concerned, the way to a person’s soul was through their taste in music. They had read a study once that said people’s moods and taste in music influence one another in a type of pseudo-dynamic equilibrium. Or something like that. Derek wasn’t a chemistry student for a reason.

Chemistry journals didn’t, however, cover what to do when there was the slight catch of you and each of your partners having wildly different tastes in music.

In order to keep outright Armageddon from erupting, the three of them had hung up a calendar in their break room with a schedule for who gets to play music when. Chowder was assigned to Mondays and Thursdays, Dex had Tuesdays and Fridays, and Derek chose Wednesdays and Saturdays. “I guess God gets to pick the music on Sundays,” they joked since none of them would be there anyways.

This particular Saturday had been more stressful than usual with the confrontation earlier. On top of that, it was a deep clean day, so Derek, Dex, and Chowder had been up to their eyeballs in checklists of things that had to be refilled, wiped down, and rearranged. By the time they had finished, it was around eleven at night, a whole three hours after the Samwell Stoop normally closed. So the trio treated themselves to a cuddle pile on the couch in the breakroom.

“Nursey,” Dex whined softly, dragging out the Y. “Can you change your playlist to something less… intense? I’m getting flashbacks to that bootcamp I did back in college.” Although it probably wasn’t intentional, he let his head slump against Chowder’s shoulder, who leaned against him in turn.

With a quiet “Chyeah,” Derek pulled themselves away from his partners to grab his phone. It was probably a bad idea to have the aux cord right behind the counter, but they and Dex usually had the impulse control to not check it. Emphasis on usually. Chowder sometimes struggled a little bit more, but it was decided that it was better to be chewed out by a patron for checking their phone than to have the whole store subjected to an unexpected voice memo of Dex drunkenly singing along to “You’ve Got a Friend In Me.”

For the record, he had scored an 82 on their friend Whiskey’s karaoke machine that night.

So after much deliberation as to slow down the mood, the lively harmonies of the Jackson Five were switched out for the light crooning of Jason Mraz. Though they would take the secret to their grave, the playlist was actually the one that Derek had used for sleeping back in his college days. It was more lonesome than they had realized to truly be on their own in the world. So these songs were the ones they fell asleep to, hoping to have pleasant dreams instead of their usual fitful nights.

Nowadays, they used it for times that they needed to destress. Music wasn’t really a good idea in the bedroom anyways since it was noisy enough with three of them in the bed. Another secret that their would never dare disclose was how their found Chowder’s chainsaw-like snoring actually quite adorable.

“This slow enough for you?” they joked as they tucked the wires back into their little storage cup (one of the mugs that could no longer be used due to the broken handle). Yet, when Derek looked up from behind the counter, they were greeted by the sight of Dex and Chowder slowly swaying to the melody in one another’s arms. Their eyes were closed as they nestled into the crooks of their necks, and Chowder’s hand fumbled around for Dex’s before their fingers were intertwined.

Poetic enlightenment often eluded Derek when they needed it most, but this moment must have been something extraordinary.

Sun and Moon

Forever in a cyclar chase

Yet neither is ever alone

For stars and clouds are one and the same

Keeping them company

In the wide open sky

While they had never gotten any complaints for their writing volume, it was the closing of Derek’s leather-bound notebook that got their partners’ attention. They broke their hand clasp and reached out towards them at the same time. “Derek,” Chowder murmured, their voice serious, yet gentle as it always was when they used their legal names.

Although they were a quarter inch taller than Dex (they do know how to use a measuring tape, thank you very much), Derek allowed himself to be enveloped in a tight hug between their two partners. “I love you… Will, Chris, both of you… I love you so much.”

Outside, the stars were indeed shining alongside the moon. Most people had either turned in for the night or had dimmed their lights and shut their curtains. Yet in the relative darkness, the Samwell Stoop was a glowing beacon, its yellow brilliance spilling out of the windows. If Derek still had their notebook out, he might have written about how metaphorical it all must have been to an outsider. But they didn’t need words right now; they had everything they could have needed right beside them.

#chowderdexnursey #bv2020 #bitty's valentines #omgcp fandom #omg check please!

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the-redhead-who-writes · 5 years ago

Text

The Nutcracker Prince and the Devil Mouse

A re-telling of the classic ballet has Mika Anderson receiving a set of exquisite soldiers and a handcrafted Nutcracker for Christmas from her Grandfather Drosselmeyer. But with her joy comes uncertainty when an unexpected announcement from her Father and the sudden appearance of a frightful villain threatens to shatter everything she knows. Amidst the darkness, Mika will find love and an inner strength she'd never before known. Along with the magic of Christmas and the help of her friends, both old and new, will it be enough to save the holidays and her future?

Happy Holidays dorks! This story has been in the works for nearly a year now when I woke up in a cold sweat one night in the middle of last January and thought: "What if Harold Anderson was more like Uncle Drosselmeyer from the Nutcracker?"

So, I present to you a fanfiction to spread a little festive cheer to both veteran and new Seduce Me fans alike. The plan is to have the whole story up before February, but you know me and my time management skills; I promise to do my best though!

This fanfic is also specially dedicated to my best friend and beta @the-sassy-sister. Thank you for being with me through thick and thin!

And now, without further ado, please enjoy my take on a holiday classic!

Links: AO3

Mika imagined that most girls her age would be excited about their family’s annual Christmas party. Her Mother certainly was; she’d been running around for days arranging the necessary preparations: polishing the silverware, scrubbing the floors. Ensuring everything would be just perfect.

Mika struggled to see the point.

Not that she considered herself a Scrooge by any means. She really did love the holidays and everything that came with them: the house smelling of delicious food being prepared; the beautiful decorations that glittered over every inch of the house; and, of course, the time spent with friends and loved ones.

But when the ‘friends and loved ones’ were powerful execs and stuffy, influential board members, it was hard to feel merry.

The party was dragging by at a snail’s pace, and Mika’s cheeks ached from the smile she’d kept plastered on her face for the last three hours. She supposed she should be used to it by now; her father held the same lavish affair every year. And every year, she was expected to stand around, look pretty and repeat the usual lines.

Thank you for coming. We’re so glad to have you here. Why yes, I am doing well in my studies. Please, try the fruitcake.

She sighed, rolling her neck to ease the tense muscles in her shoulders. Her position as a greeter at the front door had long since finished, as the party was well underway and all of the A-list guests had arrived. But Mika wasn’t waiting on any of them.

Anticipation had her fingers drumming on the staircase railing, keeping in time with the ticking antique grandfather clock in the adjacent living room. Slipping away during speeches would probably earn her a lecture from her Father at the end of the night, but right now, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Any sign of him?”

Mika turned her head from the door to see Naomi exiting the kitchen, holding a glass of punch. Suzu followed after her, grinning toothily behind her plate of precariously stacked baked goods.

Mika smiled wearily, accepting the drink from Naomi. “No, not yet. He should be here soon, though.”

The soft-spoken girl nodded, while Suzu snorted, moving to sit next to Mika on the bottom step. “Your Granddad sure does like to make an entrance.”

Mika followed suit, sitting down with a chuckle.

Harold Anderson, the eccentric toymaker and famed CEO of Anderson Toys.

He’d amassed quite the legacy over the years; travelling to every corner of the globe and creating the most exquisite toys the world had ever seen. His products were a household name around birthdays and Christmas, and he was regarded as one of the highest-ranking businessmen in North America.

Multi-national corporation aside, he was also known for his kind heart and regular charity donations; he had more than a handful of schools and playgrounds named after him. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that thousands of lives had been changed thanks to his generosity.

But to Mika, he was simply Grandfather Drosselmeyer.

She couldn’t recall where the moniker had come from, most likely stemming from his many travels - travels which he would spin for her in hundreds of elaborate stories. As a child, she’d sit and listen to him for hours as he described the magic behind his latest adventure while he tinkered on one of his brilliant contraptions. And when she discovered her love of ballet, he’d bought Mika her first pair of dancing slippers and never missed a concert.

Nowadays, she was just grateful to hear from him.

Her Father wasn’t shy about his distaste for the unconventional methods in which the patriarch of Anderson Toys ran his company, along with his “childish” views on business. So as the years went by, Mika saw less and less of her Grandfather. He still held the reins on the company, of course, but chose to handle most of his work abroad to appease his son. That left Mika relying on word of mouth or social media to keep track of him.

The exceptions were the holidays, where he would arrive with exquisite gifts and handmade toys for his employees. How she treasured those moments: they made her Father’s parties bearable.

“Whaddya think he’ll have this time?” Suzu asked, words muffled by the cookie she’d stuffed in her mouth.

Mika shrugged, gaze back on the door as she took a sip of her punch. “Who knows? He’s been really quiet this year. Last I heard he was visiting Moscow.”

Naomi excitedly clapped her hands together, cooing. “Ooh, maybe he’ll bring you a set of cute little Russian nesting dolls!”

Suzu rolled her eyes. “Those things are creepy as hell, Naomi. What about one of the model airplanes he said he was working on-?” She paused, taking a massive bite of a brownie. “Nah tha wud be cul.”

Naomi made a sound of disgust as Suzu smirked, teeth smeared with chocolate, and Mika grinned behind her glass.

“Mika!”

The sharp, cold voice had the young woman in question nearly choking on her drink. She lurched to her feet, turning around to see her Father straightening his already pristine tie as he approached from down the hall.

“Yes, Father?” she quickly replied, placing her cup down on the step and folding her hands timidly.

“You’re needed in the dining room,” the man said curtly, eyeing her friends. Naomi twisted a piece of her hair, looking at the floor; Suzu hastily swallowed her mouthful of brownie.

Mika blanched. “R-right now?” she stammered, “But, I-I’m waiting for-”

“Yes, I’m well aware of what you’re doing,” he sneered, casting a dismissive glance at the door. “But as usual, my Father is late. And this is vitally important. My speech is about to begin.”

Her Father glared down at her, arms folded tightly across his chest. His lips were pulled into a thin, impatient frown, and Mika swallowed, squeezing her hands.

“I understand Father, but could I have just another few minutes? It would be impolite to leave Grandfather Dross-“ Mika backpedalled, watching her Father’s eyes narrow at the nickname. “...To leave Grandfather to let himself in.”

A scoff. “My Father can’t be bothered with etiquette, so why should we pay him the same kindness?”

Hearing the word 'kindness' out of her Father’s mouth was as foreign as “I love you.” Mika’s lips almost twitched.

Almost.

“Now, hurry up. Our guests are waiting.”

His tone left no room for argument, and with the very real threat of an open shouting match in front of her friends hanging in the air, Mika faltered.

Resigned, she nodded complacently. “Yes, Father. Of course,” Mika murmured.

She then turned to Naomi and Suzu, who were watching her with small, sympathetic smiles.

“Let me know when he arrives?”she asked.

Suzu grinned, shooting her a thumbs-up. “You got it, Chika.”

It was at that moment the front doors blew open, sending a gust of winter air spilling into the foyer. The snow that carried in sparkled as it swirled around them, glittering under the chandelier light.

Mika winced against the bite of the cold, shielding her eyes as her hair whipped her face.

“When who arrives, sweetie?”

Mika’s heart lurched at the familiar, jolly voice, and she hurried to blink the spots from her vision as the heavy doors thudded closed.

His cheeks and nose were bitten red with the cold, but warmth shone in the forest green eyes that were a shade darker than her own; their only resemblance.

He reached up to tip his top hat politely. “I’m sorry, my dear. Did I keep you waiting?”

Standing under the light of the winter moon, he beamed at Mika from under the brim with such love that her eyes pricked with tears.

Her Grandfather Drosselmeyer.

Mika’s face split into the first genuine smile of the night. Forgetting all proprieties, she ran to embrace him, burying her face in the heavy, woollen material of his worn travelling cloak.

His arms came up to return the hug, squeezing her tightly and resting his chin on the top of her head.

“Even taller this year, I see,” the old man chuckled, and Mika grinned.

“You’re just shrinking,” she shot back playfully, looking up to see her Grandfather’s eye - the one not concealed under his eyepatch - crinkle with mirth at her usual retort.

He’d never told her what had happened.

Years ago, Harold Anderson returned home from one of his long trips with the right side of his face bandaged painfully tight. He’d soothed Mika’s frantic tears, taking her small form up onto his knee with a mischievous smile.

“Mice,” he’d whispered. “Such tricky little devils.”

With his sharp wit and seemingly boundless energy, her Grandfather Drosselmeyer had the disposition of a man half his age. His laugh lines were what gave him away, etching his face with the echoes of every joke he’d ever told.

Combined with his neatly styled silver hair - which he sported as a proud badge of his years - Harold Anderson gave off the impression of a kindly, dignified artisan rather than a shrewd business mogul.

Unlike her Father, whose glare burned into Mika’s back with unabashed contempt.

Mr. Anderson pointedly cleared his throat, and Mika winced. Her Grandfather didn’t seem the slightest bit perturbed, though. He turned them both to face his son with a broad smile.

“Merry Christmas, my boy! It’s so good to see you.”

The greeting he got in return was clipped.

“Father. Clearly, you believe attending these parties aren’t worth your precious time. Why even bother showing up?”

“Oh, come now, son, you know how I hate small talk. Why drag myself through such stuffy formalities when I can simply arrive at the climax?” Grandfather Drosselmeyer exclaimed cheerfully, unphased by the sour look on his son’s face.

Mika giggled, but the laughter died in her throat at her Father’s glower.

Mr. Anderson hummed, unimpressed. “Honestly, with all the money being thrown away on these ‘research expeditions’, you’re lucky I can keep the company afloat.”

“Ah, is that an invitation to join back in on day-to-day affairs? You know how I’ve missed our little chats. The burnt coffee in the boardroom was just a bonus, after all.”

Her Grandfather’s easygoing attitude only seemed to irritate her Father further.

“You are a figurehead, and nothing more,” he snapped. “Anderson Toys is finally moving towards becoming one of the top grossing corporations on the continent, and if footing the bill for your ridiculous trips keeps you out of the way, then so be it.”

Fury and indignation for her Grandfather boiled like acid in Mika’s stomach, and her hug tightened defensively around him.

Her Grandfather, as she had expected, didn’t rise to the taunt. He simply patted her hand soothingly and continued to smile.

“Even the figurehead still gets to attend his own company’s party, yes?” he inquired politely, and her Father sneered.

“You’d still ask despite turning up late? Clearly your nerve hasn’t softened with age like your mind. Well, seeing as how I was just in the middle of addressing my guests, you can wait here until I’ve-“

“Oh, is that Harold?”

“Harold, you sly dog! We thought you’d never show!”

The voices that floated in expressed surprise and delight as Harold’s arrival reached the dining room. Slowly, guests carried into the lobby, eager to greet their beloved CEO with a flurry of questions.

Drosselmeyer met with each of them, shaking hands left and right jovially before inviting the group to follow him to the main parlour.

“Oh, you don’t mind, do you, David?” Harold chimed, seemingly unaware of the way in which he was stepping on his son’s proverbial toes.

Mika knew better. A twinge of satisfaction curled her lips as her Father’s spotlight was stolen away, leaving the corner of his eye twitching.

“...We’ll get back to the speech’s afterwards,” Mr. Anderson ground out as delicately as possible.

Harold clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! Now, shall we?”

-❄-

Soon, the parlour was packed, and a roaring fire crackled merrily in the brick fireplace. With the room full of laughter, warmth, and happily chattering people, Mika felt like Christmas had finally arrived in the cold estate.

And in the middle of it all was her Grandfather Drosselmeyer.

Sat in a large armchair by the fireplace, he beamed like a modern-day Saint Nick. The overstuffed velvet sack he’d conjured from seemingly thin air sat open on the floor, and with every dip into its endless depths, a new and wonderful creation appeared.

Button-eyed teddy bears with hand-stitched smiles; rollerblades whose wheels gleamed with fresh polish; pop guns that fired corks with a bang.

Even the company’s oldest employees were transported back to their earliest Christmas mornings, eyes sparkling with childlike wonder at the beautiful toys her Grandfather produced.

As the last of the gifts were handed out, Mika and her friends sat around the front of Grandfather Drosselmeyer’s chair.

“You’ve really topped yourself this year, Mr. D!” Suzu exclaimed, fiddling with a stray paddle ball while she lay sprawled across the carpet.

Naomi coughed daintily into her fist, sitting cross-legged. “She means ‘thank you,’ Mr. Anderson.”

Her Grandfather laughed heartily. “You’re most welcome, girls. And I’ve told you to call me Drosselmeyer, Naomi. ‘Mr. Anderson-’,” he said, donning an exaggeratedly droll tone and puffing out his chest, “-is my son.”

Mika giggled, smoothing the glossy curls on the china doll in her lap.

Her Father was busy skulking around the outskirts of the party, so she could allow herself to relax for the time being. It was hard not to when she was with her Grandfather; his presence was like being enveloped in a ray of warm sunshine.

“I’m glad to see you ladies are having fun,” Grandfather continued, “But we aren’t through just yet! There’s still the grand finale!”

Grandfather Drosselmeyer gestured for the three girls to come closer on the carpet, and so they did, crowding nearer as he once again delved into his bag.

“For Suzu,” he began with a twinkle in his eye, “the latest in my line of model airplanes.”

He revealed a beautifully painted metal bi-plane with gold stripes up the wings and matching propellers on the nose and fins. The landing gear even had miniature rubber tires.

Suzu was starry-eyed. “No way! It’s so cool!”

Grandfather Drosselmeyer chuckled, handing it to the eager girl. “I thought you’d like the fastest prototype we had available. I trust you’ll give our engineers a run for their money.”

“Hell yeah! Thanks, Mr. D!” Suzu whooped, jumping to her feet and dipping the plane through the air, watching the propeller blades spin.

Naomi's lips pinched, clearly torn between reprimanding Suzu for her language and letting her enjoy herself.

Her struggle was immediately forgotten, however, when Drosselmeyer announced her gift.

“For Naomi, a hand-painted matryoshka doll that’s travelled with me all the way from Belarus.”

Naomi squealed, the excited noise a stark contrast to her usually reserved nature.

“It’s beautiful, Mr. A- Um, Drosselmeyer!” she corrected quickly, gratefully accepting the wooden figurine.

It was of a woman with ruby lips in a green-patterned apron, her eyes closed demurely. The paint glistened in the firelight, and Naomi traced along the intricate carvings before twisting the top half gently. It popped open with ease to reveal a smaller figurine, this one in a blue dress.

She gave the old man a quick hug before beginning the task of opening each compartmented doll.

Mika smiled at the twin expressions of joy on her friends’ faces.

How her Grandfather always knew just the right gifts to bring was beyond her, but it wasn’t surprising. He’d always had a knack for reading people, and she’d seen him do and create so many extraordinary things.

Mika doubted she’d ever stop being amazed by her Grandfather Drosselmeyer.

A small, fearful part of her heart prayed that she wouldn’t.

Her sudden anxiety calmed when a knuckle curled beneath her chin, tilting her face upwards to meet loving eyes.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Grandfather Drosselmeyer asked softly, and Mika’s throat tightened with a swell of emotion.

It was Christmas, and she was with the people she adored; it was everything Mika could possibly want. To spend such a special night worrying would be a waste.

“Nothing Grandfather. Everything is perfect,” she reassured, shaking off her momentary nerves with a watery smile.

Her Grandfather’s eyes shimmered with a depth far beyond his years as he studied her face carefully.

Mika’s heart turned over in her chest. At that moment, it felt as if he could see right through her practiced facade, knowing every one of the hopes and fears she had long grown accustomed to keeping hidden away.

But then, his smile brightened.

“Well if that’s the case, I don’t suppose you’ll be needing your gift then, hmm?”

Mika’s relieved giggle was dwarfed by her Grandfather’s hearty laughter as he pulled back to once again reach into his bag.

“I must confess that I actually have three presents for you this year, my dear. Is that alright?”

Mika bit her lip and attempted to school her features into a mask of nonchalance.

“Well, if you’ve already brought them, then I guess it's fine.”

Suzu snorted, tucking her plane under her arm and plopping back down next Mika.

Grandfather Drosselmeyer chuckled, waiting for Naomi to close up the last of her dolls so she could watch too.

“Now, for my beloved Granddaughter,” he announced, “this first gift is best suited for someone with your open-mindedness.”

Curious, the girls leaned closer. Grandfather paused for a moment before showing a stuffed animal.

Or at least, what resembled a stuffed animal.

It was white, with a long bushy tail and small feet. It sat on its hind legs, its stubby paws folded in front of it.

But in one of its paws, it had… a knife?!

Combined with its eerie red eyes and a jagged smile, Mika was shocked this design had ever cleared management.

“I know, he’s a little off-putting at first,” Grandfather admitted. “He was meant to be a cooking squirrel, complete with a chef hat. But somewhere along the way, he got a little…”

“Creepy?” Suzu offered, and Grandfather Drosselmeyer shrugged helplessly.

“...Yes, I suppose that’s fitting. He’s the only one of his kind, you see, and rather than have him destroyed, I thought Mika might be able to find his potential.”

Mika listened to this, all the while observing the unusual looking toy.

Yes, it had a few quirks, but there was undoubtedly a charm to him that Mika couldn’t quite put her finger on. So, she happily took the squirrel from her Grandfather, setting aside the doll from earlier to place it in her lap.

“I think I’ll call him… Simon. Simon Tabby.”

Her Grandfather nodded his approval while Naomi and Suzu gawked at her like she’d grown a second head.

“What?” Mika smirked at her friends, holding Simon up and wiggling his paws. “You’re not really scared of such a cute little guy, are you?”

Suzu scoffed, though Naomi looked noticeably paler.

“The next is something to read in bed during a stormy night,” Grandfather Drosselmeyer continued.

He dug around the bag again and Mika held back a gasp when a beautifully decorated leather book was revealed.

It was about the size and thickness of a phone book, with gold and bronze metal detailings along the spine and cover corners.

“Grandfather, it’s lovely!” Mika breathed.

“Ah, but I think you’ll like what’s inside even more,” he said with an arched brow.

Opening the book gently, Mika watched as he flipped through the parchment pages to reveal dozens of hand-painted illustrations and cursive script.

“A collection of as many tall tales and legends as I could find throughout my travels. I know how much you love a good story; when you were little, you wouldn’t settle down until I’d read you every book I had on my shelves.”

Mika wrinkled her nose playfully. “Every book? Knowing your library, I never would’ve slept.”

Grandfather groaned dramatically, head sagging to his chest. “Oh, you didn’t. Just thinking about those long nights chasing you up and down the hallways is enough to make me feel my age tenfold.”

Mika’s giggles were bubbly as she leaned forward to take the book, being mindful of Simon Tabby in her lap.

It was shockingly light for its size, only a third of the weight Mika had been expecting. Opening to the index, she read dozens of titles, some she recognized and others she didn’t.

Just picturing the hours of work that must’ve been needed to create it had a tingling warmth fill her chest.

Closing the tome gently, she offered it to Naomi, who began skimming the chapters curiously. Suzu scooted over to sneak a peek.

“And last, but certainly not least…” Grandfather Drosselmeyer trailed off quietly, reaching in with both hands and a small wistful smile.

Slowly, he pulled out a wooden box with a dark spiral pattern burned into the lid.

“A set of loyal protectors.”

He opened the case, hinges creaking, and this time, Mika’s breath did rush out in a soft gasp.

Four tin soldiers laid in the box’s velvet lining, adorned in matching military uniforms. Each one had a different colour lapel and hat brim. They were incredibly well made, with distinguishing features such as hair and eye colour.

And in the centre of the Soldiers was the most handsome Nutcracker Mika had ever seen.

Brilliant emerald eyes seemed to shine from behind the brim of his hat and brown bangs. A sword was tucked carefully into his left holster.

Mika didn’t even realize she was crying until her vision blurred, hot tears fluttering on her bottom lashes.

“You like them?” Grandfather asked tenderly, and in response, Mika held out her hands.

“Can I hold them, please?” she whispered with a choked voice.

Grandfather smiled. “Of course you can, dear. They’re yours.”

Mika received the chest with the utmost care, gingerly running her fingers over the five figurines.

“Did you make them, Grandfather Drosselmeyer?” Mika murmured, still enraptured with her gift.

Grandfather shook his head. “I can’t say that I did, though they’ve been through a great deal with me over the years. Now, I give them to you: to protect my most precious Granddaughter.”

Mika was in two minds. She so desperately wanted to throw her arms around her Grandfather and give him the tightest hug she could. But instead, she found herself strangely fixated with the soldiers that lay before her.

They radiated with life, just shy of breathing. It felt as if she took her eyes off them for even a second, they’d simply stand up and run off with a will of their own.

Drosselmeyer broke her trance by reaching down and carefully removing the Nutcracker, reassuring his suddenly panicked Granddaughter with an amused smile.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, I just want to make sure he’s still working properly after our long journey.”

Mika released the breath she’d inadvertently been holding, rightfully embarrassed at her covetousness. As her cheeks bloomed red, Grandfather Drosselmeyer waved off her stammered apology as he reached into his coat pocket.

“It warms this old man’s heart to see just how much you still enjoy his tricks, my dear. And speaking of tricks…”

He revealed a single walnut. Placing it inside the Nutcracker’s mouth, it only took a quick pull on the lever in his back to crush the nut into pieces.

“Whoa!” Suzu exclaimed, leaning up on her knees as Drosselmeyer brushed away a bit of stray dust from his pant leg. “That’s awesome!”

“Yes, he’s certainly a handy fellow, isn’t he? But at my age, soups and a nice soft muffin are more fitting. So I hope you’ll find some use for him, Mika.”

Mika rolled her eyes at her Grandfather’s joke but quickly focused her attention back on the Nutcracker. “I promise I’ll take the best care of him, Grandfather. You have my word.”

Grandfather Drosselmeyer’s eyes glimmered with intrigue as he raised a brow. “And there is power in our words, hmm?”

Suzu and Naomi might’ve thought the sudden gravity behind her next sentence was out of place. But to Mika, having her Grandfather’s trust meant more to her than anything.

When you grow up around people who view lying as natural as breathing, you either learn the importance of fidelity and honesty, or you become them.

And Gods did that terrify her.

“Every single one,” Mika swore earnestly and was rewarded with a proud smile from Grandfather Drosselmeyer. He handed back the Nutcracker, and Mika held him carefully under one arm as she stood to meet her Grandfather’s hug.

“Thank you, Grandfather Drosselmeyer,” Mika whispered fervently.

“You’re most welcome, sweetie,” her Grandfather whispered back.

If he noticed how desperately she clung to him, he didn’t mention it. He simply returned the embrace for as long as Mika needed it, only moving back when she loosened her grip slightly a few moments later.

She looked up to see the adoration shining in his eyes, and Mika’s heart felt lighter than it had in weeks.

Finally, after every silent meal, cold glance and forced smile, finally... the house was her home again.

-❄-

There you have it, the first chapter! I really hope it was as fun to read as it was to write and plan out.

The story will follow the classic ballet along with a few twist and turns of my own design, and since I'm still polishing a few bits and pieces for the later chapters, any and all feedback is much appreciated!

Oh, and by the way, I won't be revealing which boy Mika ends up with until a little later into the story. Feel free to take your guesses as to who the lucky fella will be!

#my writing #seduce me otome #seduce me the otome #seducemeotome #fanfiction #the nutcracker #christmas #fluff #mika anderson #visual novel #suzu #naomi #enjoy this first chapter!

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sadboykookie · 5 years ago

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➺ “Seven boys, raised since birth into Seven Magi Masters, battle it out in order to obtain the ultimate prize—the Holy Grail, a magical artifact capable of granting its wielder any wish. Are they all still the boys they once knew?”

pairing: ot7 x oc’s genre: smut, angst, horror (?), abuse (?), thriller, fantasy, dystopia, action, historical!characters, based on the fgo series word count: 7.5 inspired by ⇢ fate series

chapter one/?

♕

It waIt was hot for a summer day, more scolding than usual.

The locus creaked. The far away stream flew with the fresh water from the nearby springs. The trees sang as the wind blew through their leaves, each green leaf shaking in the vast canopy above. The birds chirped wildly, chasing one another in a game of their own tag. The green turning grass stood still as if it were too hot to move, the only thing that remained still.

And here the young boy was, knowing that if he moved, he’d give himself away. Hiding behind a metal sheet that was leaned against his mother's prized greenhouse.

He really didn’t know how long he’s been there, he could feel the sunshine pouring into his bones by now. The only thing that saved him from being cooked alive was the dappled shade the sheet provided him, the book he was supposed to be reading for today's lesson later in the day was nested on his lap as he crouched waiting. Waiting to be found.

He wanted to read it while he hid to save the lecture his teacher would give him for not being caught up with the material, but he knew he needed to be on high alert. Whenever he did read, anyways, he was always caught up in dreamland with his books; medicinal ambiance for the young boy.

The sudden sound of light footsteps made him jolt, nearly hitting his head against the metal sheet - almost giving away his position. He tucked himself tighter into his chest, knees held tight across, and head in between. The young boy remained silent. Listening to the shouts across the field.

“Did you find him yet?”

“No! I thought you did!”

“I don’t even know why we play with him, he’s like the best hider.”

“Because it's only fair.”

“Then you go find him, smart ass!”

“Maybe he went inside already. He did say he has lessons today. His dad gets pretty angry if he doesn’t do them.”

“Don’t you have lessons?”

“Nope, I’m all caught up. I’m ahead of my class by two months. I’ve been told I’m currently the most advanced kid in the academy.”

“Not everyone’s dad is the head of the academy, chief.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, not everyone can read like-”

“Stop saying I can’t read! I just like looking at the pictures, okay?!”

“That just proves you can’t read yet!”

The young boy crackled softly to himself, knowing it was quiet enough to not be heard from how far away they were from him.

It waIt was hot for a summer day, more scolding than usual.

And here the young boy was, knowing that if he moved, he’d give himself away. Hiding behind a metal sheet that was leaned against his mother's prized greenhouse.

“Did you find him yet?”

“No! I thought you did!”

“I don’t even know why we play with him, he’s like the best hider.”

“Because it's only fair.”

“Then you go find him, smart ass!”

“Maybe he went inside already. He did say he has lessons today. His dad gets pretty angry if he doesn’t do them.”

“Don’t you have lessons?”

“Nope, I’m all caught up. I’m ahead of my class by two months. I’ve been told I’m currently the most advanced kid in the academy.”

“Not everyone’s dad is the head of the academy, chief.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, not everyone can read like-”

“Stop saying I can’t read! I just like looking at the pictures, okay?!”

“That just proves you can’t read yet!”

The young boy crackled softly to himself, knowing it was quiet enough to not be heard from how far away they were from him.

But to his misfortune, the young boy managed to give away his spot. The metal sheet started to shake, two small hands to either side lifting it up and away. The sudden sun glare caused the boy to squint his eyes, having trouble adjusting to the light after hiding in the dark for so long. He brought his hands up to help his eyes shade the harsh sunlight.

He heard the delighted gasp of the other as the metal sheet was moved away, “Ah! I found you! I guess you’re ‘it’ now, Yoongi!”

The young boy frowned, “The point is for you not too, Seokjin.”

The boy with the choppy haircut put his hands on his hips in triumph, his nose high in the air, “You may be the best hider, but I’m the best at seeking.”

Yoongi grumbled, picking up his book off the floor. Dusting the book off with the back of his hands before he dusted off his dirty knees and his bum. “No, you’re not. Namjoon is, that idiot needs glasses nowadays, so he sucks at playing. He’s as blind as my maid.”

“I take offense!” laughed Namjoon, making his way over to the two with the other four following behind him. “My mother hasn’t gotten the chance to take me yet. She keeps saying when dad gets back.”

“Oh,” teased chipped tooth Jimin, hands in his dirty overalls, “So, never?”

Jimin giggled as he hid behind Hoseok to avoid a swing from Namjoon. Namjoon quickly noticing the little object in Hoseok’s hand. “Where'd you find that?”

He was referring to the bird in Hoseok’s hand, a little blue jay that chirped wildly in his hands in discomfort. “It was on the floor, it looked hurt while I was hiding.”

“It looks hurt now,” narrowed Taehyung, arms crossed as he gazed over at Hoseok. His friend's eyes were lifeless like usual.

Hoseok just shrugged, mindlessly look at the animal struggle in his hand, “You’re right. Let me go let it go.”

With that, Hoseok walked off from the group. No one really questioning it, seeing how the boy would usually leave from time to time to be alone of his own without a word. No matter how many years they’ve known each other, Hoseok has just always been like that. Well, not always. He was a happy boy until his new step-father came into the picture years ago. Yoongi figured that was when he started to sink into his own despair.

“So, another game?” chirped Jin, beaming with excitement.

“If you’re gonna cheat again how about-“

“Young Master!” yelled Iris, Yoongi’s personal maid, from the house that was several meters away. “It’s time for your lessons! Other Young Masters! It’s time to go.”

Yoongi crinkled, lightly smacking his book against his thigh with a sigh. “I guess that’s the end of it.”

“We just started too,” pouted Taehyung, crossing his arms.

Jungkook kicked his heel, the older boy wincing, “We’ve been playing since this morning, it’s late noon now!”

“Too soon!”

“You guys are gross, get a room,” frowned Seokjin. Jungkook just ignored him, punching Taehyung on the shoulder for the heck of it.

“So, see you guys, next week?” asked Namjoon, hands in his pressed short pockets.

“Of course!” grinned Seokjin, already on his way towards the house. Both Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung in tow as they talked about what game they’d play next at the Min estate.

Namjoon smiled at his friends, shaking his head with a chuckle as he walked over towards the rest. Yoongi waited a bit for Hoseok, seeing the boy make his way over before he followed after Joon.

“Hey-” Yoongi stopped himself, noticing the damp bright maroon stains on Hoseok’s small hands before he tucked them into his deep short pockets. The even deader look of nothingness within his once bright eyes. He didn’t comment on it. Hoseok's frown deepening.

“H-hey! How’s the bird?”

Hoseok merely shrugged, “It flew off.” He was lying, Hoseok’s nose always twitches when he lied. Yoongi tried not to frown at the answer. “Where did everyone go?”

“Iris said everyone’s ride is here, and I got my lessons I have to attend to.”

Hoseok shrugged, tucking his hands deeper into his pocket as he passed Yoongi without a word. The demeanor that surrounded his closest friend made Yoongi shiver in his little shoes. Ever since his new step-dad came into place, Hoseok has been different, and Yoongi missed his best friend.

The two made it back home. The other boys already compiled by their maids or butlers that have come to pick them up, making conversation with one another. Hoseok already made pace though, his butler hurrying him into the car. The boys waved their goodbyes to their quiet friend, but Hoseok didn’t wave back. The two take off without saying goodbye to anyone else down the bricked country road.

One stood out from the rest though as his laughed ranged out loudly, Seokjin’s adoptive faster, a man named Leonardo Kim. Despite how the others always had help to come to pick them up and bring them home from a day of playing at the Min Estate every other week, Seokjin’s dad always came to get him.

A tall man of his Korean attributes, his hair frizzy in a nest, his black trench coat weathered as if it has a story to tell despite the hot summer, a small scar on his cheek dressed with a growing a beard, and a bright red gem he wore around his neck. So bright and vivid, you’d have to be blind to miss it. Jin was by his side, beaming up at his father with such admiration and love.

Yoongi understood that feeling, walking up to his own father. “Ah, Yoongi! Have you finished your reading?”

“I-”

“Sorry, Mr. Min,” interrupted the smaller boy. “I was distracting him. Taehyung and I thought it would be funny to hide his book to enjoy the sun. He was almost done though,” spoke Jin before Yoongi had the chance, noticing the panic in his quick eyes. “Sorry.”

“You rascal!” Leo drove his fist into Jin’s hair as he ruffled it, tough enough for him to whine, but not enough for it to actually hurt. “Why can’t you be a good student like Yoongi!”

“Dadddddd~”

Yoongi’s father laughed at the two, looking down at Yoongi with a sharp glare, causing the young boy to flinch in his step before his father looked up and smiled at the two. “You two are too funny, but it is getting late. I think everyone has left already.”

Yoongi hadn’t noticed, but everyone else did leave. Probably not wanting to interrupt his powerful father with any kind of troublesome goodbyes.

“Ah, I guess you’re right,” the tall man agreed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “You take care, Giotto. I’m always a call away, especially with what you know is... coming up.”

“Of course, Leo,” the elder man smiled, stepping into the hug he offered. Quickly pulling away. “I am too.”

“You study hard, Yoongi, got it?” he ruffled the young boy's black hair, Yoongi hands quickly shooting up to fix his messy hair. “You are the next Min to carry the lineage. I know you can do it, Mr. Strong Mage. I saw what you can do already. Jin can’t even move a leaf, and you’re over here making rocks explode with an incantation.”

“Thank you… Mister.”

Leo just smiled, patting on Jin’s back to say his own goodbyes.

“See you next week?” asked Jin, the missing front tooth he had made Yoongi giggle.

“See you next week.”

Yoongi shuffled in his bed under the sheets.

The young man waking in a near startle, jolting himself up right out of bed. His bed hair sticking up in every direction, a piece of scrap paper with scribbles of potion ingredients stuck to his cheek with his drool as glue, his dark circles deep from his lack of sleep over the past month. The ringing of his alarm on the phone started to annoy him as it grew louder and louder above him. The sun was already beaming through the curtains he forgot to close the night before, too hurried to jump into his bed. His eyebrows twitched in annoyance when the sound continued to ring and ring.

“Oh, shut up!” He shouted to no one in particular. Reaching up to shut off his clock with a hard press of his thumb.

It was only 7 in the morning and he groaned loudly at the time. He was up early this morning tinkering with potions downstairs. Only having slept three hours today. He wanted nothing more, but to sleep in. However, his eyes zoomed in on the day on his phone. It was Monday- fuck he forgot it was Monday, he didn’t think he was cooped up in the basement for that long since last Thursday, and he had classes on Monday at the nearby university. He only took morning classes because he wanted the rest of the day to finish his magecraft studies while pursuing his career in English studies.

Magecraft didn’t pay the bills, aspiring to become a novelist did, though.

He didn’t want to mooch off his families immense wealth. Being one of the strong Seven Noble families within the magical world, they were swimming in wealth to their ears. The wealth that accumulated from the proud and strong family of the Min throughout decades. He wanted to make a name for himself in both the Mage world and the normal one.

Yoongi didn’t know why he had that dream from such a long time ago.

He remembered there was never the next week after that fateful day.

Or a week after that, or a month, nor an even year.

Little did the seven of them know, that was the last time any of them would see each other was 15 years ago. Yoongi would ask were his friends went, or what happened to them, but his father insisted it was none of his concern and would just shove another book at him. Yoongi gave up asking after he finished the entire Encyclopedia Edition of Gems and Stones by Lord El-Melloi II - a read that took him two years to finish in between his regular 8 hour lessons days.

It hurt, seeing the friends he grew up with over the past 7 years from birth to just suddenly disappear like nothing. Like they never mattered.

Every birthday was bittersweet after that for the young Yoongi, he missed them all dearly. Namjoon would shove Jin’s face into the cake - his nose stuffed in frosting, Taehyung would bring the best gifts, Jimin somehow managed to set something on fire with the birthday candles, Jungkook would manage to finish the cake before anyone would get the chance too, and Hoseok would scream happy birthday to the top of his lungs to the point were Yoongi thought he went deaf in one ear drum. He didn’t ever want to admit it to them, but they weren’t just his friends, but they were his brothers.

The manner was quiet as usual as Yoongi made his way through the home. Decorated in a deep wood, green and gold, expensive furniture, and family heirlooms. It was quiet. It wasn’t like the country manner, something Yoongi preferred more. Something that had a life to it and felt like home. His family had an estate in town after his father died, making it closer to his mother’s family before she passed away as well. Leaving Yoongi and Iris, until Iris left to the retirement home several years ago. Yoongi now on his own.

He didn’t mind it though, he liked the quietness. He liked being able to do as he pleased without being worried about disturbing anyone with his loud explosions of potions being mixed unproportionate or pouring his magic circuits too harshly into his brightly colored gems.

Yoongi had a very basic routine every morning ever since he didn’t have his faithful maid to nag over his shoulder. Brush teeth, wash face, shit, look presentable, and leave. He bothered with whatever leftovers he had from the night before from cheap takeout or just go hungry in the morning until lunch.

“Oh, shit,” Yoongi remembered something as he swung on his backpack for his class. He walked upstairs into the attic where most of his father's possessions were kept since his passing.

Grabbing onto a heart-shaped amulet with a thin silver chain that was settled in a jewelry box on a dresser top he knew would be stored there after one too many drunken nights looking through his father's possessions. He stared at the bright jasper that was encased in rich gold swirls, clenching it tightly in his hand.

Knowing if he was to be participating in this up and coming Holy Grail War, he needed to be ready for anything. His father always told him this would be handy during the War, if only he had used it on himself.

Yoongi quickly made his way back downstairs, his now dyed blonde hair bouncing as he rushed out of the house after locking both the doors and the gate before he booked it onto the street. Seeing he had another thirty minutes to class before Miss. Matthews would make him sing “Little TeaPot” if he was late one more time.

The city he lived in he nearly deemed to be perfect, everything managed to be so close to each other; despite being the battleground for the next Holy Grail War. His house was no exception, despite a giant European styled home sticking out like a sore thumb in his plain neighborhood, it was in a walk of everything needed. Usually leaving his car at home since he didn’t want to risk another speeding ticket.

It was near spring, winter over two months ago. It wasn’t too cold, but Yoongi still wore a scarf. Tucking his chin deep into the green scarf his mother had made for him when he entered his first year of high school, the first year she was bedridden. He liked keeping the little gifts she made for him, even if Yoongi rarely saw her since she had given birth to him. The two never really had a relationship, anyway.

The powerful mage his mother was, she was always in and out visiting the White Order Academy; the school in which the richest, and most powerful mages attended. A story, in which, for another time.

The air outside was crisp. He could feel his ears redding. As Yoongi neared his walk, he noticed how bare the streets were. How silent it was for this little city, more than it usually was. No other soul was out walking, an occasional car would pass by once every thirty minutes. It was odd. It was too quiet.

Yoongi glanced at his watch. It was only 7:30 in the morning, it was early, but he would at least see someone on the street at this time. He wasn’t the only one in the world that had morning classes. Tucking his hands deeper into his pockets, he grumbled to himself. Wondering what was going on.

In a matter of minutes, he reached the campus. It was empty when he arrived, making way towards his first class; in the English hall. His eyes perked up at a familiar figure starting to run his way, the tall friend of his with the elf-like ears and the muscular body.

“Oh, hey,” greeted Yoongi, taking his hand out of his pocket to wave at his college friend.

The tall man grinned back, however out of breath from his morning run. He slowed down a bit, stopping a few feet from Yoongi as he stopped to catch a breath; hands on his knees as he bent over to catch in deep breaths.

“God, I said ‘good morning’. Not suck my dick,” frowned Yoongi, tucking his hands back into the warmth of his jacket.

The taller man laughed wholeheartedly, hands on his hips as he smiled. “I just ran five miles straight this morning. What have you done today either then be a grumpy bitch?”

“And?” narrowed Yoongi. “You act like this is new information.”

The tall man laughed again. Finally settling down his breaths for oxygen. Yoongi cringed at his apparel, wondering how his balls weren’t shriveled up with his basketball shorts and t-shirt. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You are a bit early today, Yoons. It’s like-,” he stopped to look at his watch, “It’s like 6:30. Don’t you have an 8 o’clock?”

Yoongi groaned loudly, wanting to drive his head into the nearest wall. “Chanyeol! You’ve got to be shitting me!”

“No, Sir, that would be totally gross.”

Park Chanyeol was the captain of the school's track team, at the university due to the scholarship it offered. He only met Yoongi, who once fell asleep on the field one day and almost got trumped by his team one early morning. The two were acquainted friends ever since Chanyeol awoke him with a poked stick to the cheek.

Yoongi groaned. Burying his face into his hands to sigh deeply. So, that's what it was. The reason why there wasn’t a single soul in sight this morning, its because who else in their right mind would be awake this early. “Wow, that’s so fucking annoying. The clocks at my house somehow reset an hour fast today. Like every clock, all the phones, and wall clocks. Exactly by an hour.”

Chanyeol nodded in agreement, “That is a little strange. Maybe Sehun broke in? Dicked around and played with your clocks? He did say he needed a hobby.”

Yoongi shrugged, “Maybe.”

He knew that wasn’t the case. The incantation spells placed around the house at every entrance would automatically wake him up if someone dared entered without his permission, seeing how they’d be met with an explosion to the face if they did try. Yoongi didn’t try to dwell on it, seeing how it wasn’t something too out of the ordinary for his odd house.

“Well, whatever. Are you on your way back home? Can I nap for a bit until my class?” he asked, seeing how Chanyeol lived on campus and his dorm was a mere five-minute walk away.

“Yeah, I don’t mind. It’s a bit messy though,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I slept on Sehun’s bed the other day after a study session and kicked a used condom. It was still damp. I think you’re fine.”

And with that, Chanyeol laughed deeply again.

♕

Yoongi hated his art class.

Well, more like his art appreciation class. In which, they just sat and listened to a fat old man go on and on about pieces of random google clips and ask the students about how it made them feel. Demanding a ten-page paper about thirty different emotions Yoongi didn’t think was fathomable. He didn’t want to take it, he just needed it for the credits and attendance.

Good thing he sat towards the back, usually bringing a spell book to freshen up on as the two-hour class dragged on. Only had it three times a week, he praised the Lords for that, at least.

Memories of Yoongi’s drunken adventures flooded his mind from the other night, toying with the little amulet in his jacket pocket between his fingers. It was sealed inside a memento his father had left behind for him, finding it deep within his father's belongings with a note addressed to his only child. Saying it was something that would be useful in the future, sealed inside an annoying puzzle box it took him hours to solve. Usually, a sober Yoongi would have no issue, but being a little bit intoxicated proved its worth.

When he finally got the box open, he was greeted by a note from his father, the bright pendant, several trinkets, and a fossilized snake skin that was encased in a red cushion inside a smaller glass box. If Yoongi remembered correctly, that’s when all the clocks within the home went crazy when he touched the encased box. He probably didn’t remember until know because he blacked out right after he got it to open.

Yoongi leaned back into his seat and sighed to himself.

He knew what kind of bloodbath the Holy Grail War was. How it wasn’t for the faint of heart. He remembered what it did to his city fifteen years ago, engulfing the city in flames on a bloody battlefield. Some unfortunate to escape the War - the Mages’ Association using bomb explosions as a coverup, having hundreds perished in the fires. His own father included.

The sacrifices it made people do, the things it made the kindest people do in order to obtain its power. To get one sole wish it granted, no matter the cost to get it. Yoongi didn’t really mind the wishing part. He didn’t have a wish, at the moment, that needed granting. If he did anyway, he didn’t need some magical catalyst to do things for him, he had his own two hands to get whatever he needed to be accomplished.

He was only participating in this up and coming Grail War because it was his duty as the sole Head of the Min family. It was his duty to do it next, after his father's failed attempt. It was his father's last will for his only child to do what he could not.

Even if he didn’t want too, Yoongi’s other option was to take shelter with the Mage’s Association. Seeing how his family was one of the Seven Nobles, his magical circuits were immense compared to regular Mage’s having collected them over the decades since near time. A Master of the war could easily murder Yoongi for his powerful magical circuits in order to use them for their own accord, and Yoongi wasn’t one to lay down easily without a fight.

Yoongi jolted in his seat when the professor yelled at the class had ended and a sharp text from his phone in his pocket, the girl next to him shooting him a glare during his sudden startle. All he did was shoot one back.

Yoongi collected his books, shoving them into his bag and swinging them over his shoulder. He glanced down at his phone, frown deepening when he saw the message.

3:45 PM

Try tonight. It’s your last chance to participate since the deadline is tomorrow, Yoongi. There is only room for two masters left.

- Suho

Suho, otherwise known as Kim Junmyeon, Head of the Vatican or also called the Church. A lifelong friend of his father, tasked with keeping in touch and making sure Yoongi is going down the correct path in his father's absence. Yoongi knew that was a lie though, he’s seen the way his father would look at Suho whenever he came to visit when Yoongi was a child.

His father always looked at Seokjin’s father with such a kindness and admiration, but with Suho around, it always seemed like he was stepping on the glass around the man. Careful of both words and his actions. The other man didn’t seem to mind though, he’d just meet with Yoongi’s father when he needed and be out of the house in a matter of minutes. It came to a shock towards Yoongi when the man arrived at his doorstep one day after his mother's passing, claiming he is now Yoongi’s legal guardian. Despite Yoongi over the legal age.

Yoongi sighed. He wasn’t doing anything tonight, anyways.

Little did Yoongi know when he began to walk his way out of the empty classroom, a bright red mark on his left hand flashed as quickly as it disappeared.

♕

The man coughed harshly as the desk he shoved against the further wall to make room erupted in a gas of dust. Papers older than his grandmother were scattered all over the floor, mountains of books that have seen the dawn of time itself; the downstairs was cluttered in cobwebs and god knows what else. It was the only place in the house Yoongi couldn’t add risk to injury with if his summonings didn’t go to plan.

He sighed in delight at his handy work on the floor. A large magic circle is drawn in with white chalk dressed on the floor. It’s scriptures and designs from a different world. Luckily, Yoongi was always utterly confident with his magical circles, they were always an exact replica from the books; photographically embedded in his mind like most of his reading were.

Dusting his hands off, he looked at the clock on the table next to him. It was nearly midnight, the time of day were his mana was always at its peak. His wavelength was on par, his catalyst was placed in the middle of the circle, the dusted snakeskin - it would be as better time than any.

The note his father had left behind wasn’t pacific on what kind of Servant the catalyst would summon. He hoped it was a Saber, though, the strongest class to obtain. It was his guaranteed win if he managed a Saber servant with his own magical caliber. He knew the game was as easy as taking candy from a baby.

Yoongi took a deep sigh, closing his eyes on the inhale. Clearing his mind to chase away any kinds of anxiety. As he exhaled, he opened them. He grabbed the materials on the table next to him. Remembering the instructions Suho gave him in order to perform the ritual.

And so, Yoongi began.

“For the element, silver, and iron. For the foundation, stone and the Archduke of Pacts,” he began, dropping each liquid into the drawn circle below. The clock next to him froze. The liquid dripped, hitting the chalk, and the circle itself began glowing a bright white, “And for the ancestor, my great master, Jaesun. Close the gates of the four directions. Come forth from the Crown and follow the forked road leading to thy Kingdom. Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill.”

The circle started to brazen and turned into bright green light as the liquid from his hand continued to drop, the light shining vividly, “Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny. If you heed the Grail’s call and obey my will and reason, then answer me!”

The air started to flow around the young Mage as the papers around him began to flow and his clothes started to rustle as the ambiance flew, his eyes now closed in concentration. Yoongi was too into the spell that he didn’t notice his right hand begin to burn with a red seal, “I hereby swear, that I shall be all the good in the world. That I shall defeat all evil in the world. Thou Seventh Heaven, clad in the three great words of power, come forth from the circle of binding, Guardian of the Scales!”

A small burst of air around the circle escaped, disappearing throughout the room. Nearly knocking Yoongi out off his toes, and sending the loose scraps of paper into a frenzy. The glow of the circle disappeared with the wind that disbursed it. The clock next to Yoongi started clicking again, and that's when he dropped to his knees. Out of breath and exhausted, not really expecting the summoning to take that much of his mana from him. He felt his head drum loudly, his stomach felt empty and he nearly wanted to vomit.

As he caught his breath, he saw the red engraved seal symbol on his right hand - deeming the summoning was a success. He glanced around the room, looking both left and right. Well, if he was so successful, where the fuck was his servant-

The floor above him shook harshly, enough for some dust to shake down and pieces of rubble to hit Yoongi on the forehead. “What the fuck-”

He got up, quickly making a dash to the sudden noise despite stumbling against every piece of furniture near him as the ritual made his mana drain; his legs shaking as he raced up the steps.

The basement door led into the family room, dust filling the air from the pieces of broken furniture and god knows what else. The light fixture that was once lighting up the room was swinging wildly from the sudden force, Yoongi’s eyes having a hard time adjusting to the lighting as it shook, but he didn’t need lights to see those.

Those pair of blood red eyes gazing solely at him, he felt them glare into his soul - like he was a mere window.

And as the light adjusted still, Yoongi saw her.

A woman, she looked around his age. She was sitting cross-legged on the couch with her long legs crossed, she looked tall compared to Yoongi. Her hair was like gold silk, long to her waist as it draped around the furniture around her. Bangs cut to frame her angelic face and piercing red eyes that shone brightly every time the light swung. Striking as they bore into Yoongi as if she dared him to make the next move, that would be his absolute end.

Her skin was fair, her red tattoos that adorned her body in lines were in strike contrast. She wore a black top, as if a bikini, that covered her chest, black tights that came up from her thigh, golden armor that was engraved in scripture around her waist that was encased with a red cape to match her tattoos, and golden boots that came up to her knees. The woman was adorned in gold, from her earrings, thick necklaces, dangling bracelets, and sole golden piece of armor that was on her left arm all the way to her hand; pointed sharply with her nails, decorated in scriptures and patterns.

Yoongi had to admit. This woman was not of this world. She was beyond godly. She was a god amongst men. Yoongi felt himself in a trace from merely looking.

“Stop staring at me, Mongrel,” hissed the woman with venom laced in her honey-smooth voice, “You’ll dry at your eyeballs.”

Yoongi snapped himself out of it from her harsh words, he cleared his throat, trying to keep his cool as he leaned against a nearby wall, “That’s not a way to greet your Master.” The woman just narrowed her eyes, “So, are you cleaning up this mess or-?”

The woman clicked her tongue in disgust, “Is that what you say to me? You must have some nerve, human.”

“You haven’t answered my question, lady.”

“Addressing me as a mere lady as well?” her eyes narrowed deeper, “The disrespect.”

“Well, whatever, I can fix it with a spell later,” Yoongi sighed deeply, leaning off the wall and walked towards the woman. He stuck out his hand, towards her, “My name is Min Yoongi, head of the Min family. I assume you are my Servant.”

She raised her eyebrows with a quim, staring at his hand, “I could kill you. I could be someone else's' Servant for all you know.”

“And if you were,” countered Yoongi, with a smirk, “You would have done it already.”

The woman took a moment to process, letting out a small pleased hum of approval. “I see. I would’ve killed you long before we’ve continued this silly conversation.”

“So, are you going to shake my hand or not? Because it’s getting limp,” Yoongi hoped she didn’t see his hand began to shake.

She did notice the red mark on his hand, causing her brow to rise again, “I guess you are my Master, so it seems.”

Yoongi took his hand back, “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

“I have been summoned within a drab home with cheap furniture. I expected a throne, for someone as myself,” she looked down at herself, frowning when she saw her breast, “And you summoned me incompletely. This is not my true form, Mongrel.”

“Incompletely? What on Earth-”

Yoongi’s eyes shot up to the clock behind her. It read midnight. Yoongi felt skeptical, looking at his phone in his back pocket, which read 11PM. Fuck. He forgot to correct the clocks from this morning. He forgot that it wasn’t really midnight, his peak mana time. The time were his magical circuits were at its peak. The ideal time to summon a Servant. Of course, something had to go wrong. Of course, there is never smooth sailing for Min fucking Yoongi. Fuck, he fucked up.

Yoongi groaned deeply into his hands once again.

It really wasn’t his day.

Yoongi sighed, rubbing his eyes. He’s usually passed out around four, but fuck, he felt exhausted to the bones already. “So, is that going to be an issue?”

The woman shrugged, looking at her nails. “No. I am highly capable in both forms, even if not in my original, I am still beyond emaculant.”

The woman stood up from her spot, arms still crossed against her chest. Yoongi had to look down at her, she was smaller than he thought, but the way she carried herself spoke volumes. “I want to see if you are someone who is worthy of my loyalty, Mongrel.”

“And are you saying I’m not good enough to be your Master, little miss?” he narrowed, eyes squinting at her.

The woman said nothing, taking two graceful steps towards him. Her armor clinking together as she moved. She rested a hand on her hip, and Yoongi noticed her eyes did seem to shine better under the light. “I am utterly unsatisfied, seeing how you summoned me incorrectly. However, with much misfortune, I do acknowledge you as my Master, human. I plan on winning this War, having a mage of your caliber does not matter to me.”

“I have my own conditions, regardless of whatever you want,” she continued, Yoongi not stepping down from her as he stood his ground, “I will disregard anything you say during this War to come. I am to decide all battle policy, and I see you have no objections towards my conditions, do you, Mongrel?”

Yoongi stuck his tongue in his cheek, trying to ignore the way her long eyelashes touched the tops of her cheeks. He clucked his tongue in annoyance, crossing his arms against his chest. Ever since she’s been here, the woman has done nothing, but ridicule Yoongi, and he doesn’t even know her name!

Yoongi was always the better one out of his rich and spoiled friends, treating everyone like equals despite rank or hierarchy, but one thing that would tick his annoyance would be anyone that looked down on others. No matter how high they thought they were.

“Let me get this straight, little missy.”

“Little miss-”

Yoongi cut her off, taking a large step closer to her. Nearly chest to chest. Her lips were tight in a thin line, clearly annoyed. “You solemnly acknowledge me as your Master, and yet, you treat me like dirt since you’ve been here. Why is that, little miss?”

“I am your Servant in form only, Mongrel,” she hissed through her perfectly pressed teeth, “I will obey you in form only. I will call my own when it comes to battle and you shall not interfere. I do not need another lowly Mage killing you and getting me out early. You better run early with your tail between your legs and go hide in your basement. Someone as powerless as you should be capable of hiding in the dark, shouldn’t you?”

She noticed the way Yoongi’s jaw tightened when he stood quiet for a few seconds, eyes boring straight at her, “Have I made you angry, Mongrel? My victory is your victory, and I will yield any spoils of battle to you. Surely, in anyone’s right mind, that would be agreeable? I do not expect-”

She stopped, flinching when Yoongi suddenly brought up a hand. Unexpectedly, tucking a piece of her golden hair behind her ear. Cupping her cheek in his hand, and if looks could kill, Yoongi would be dead on the floor. “You think you can touch me-”

“You see,” he began, his voice low and a smile teasing, “You think, you a Servant. Can some here and disrespect me, your Master? This is going to be a joint effort, sweetheart. I don’t care how mighty and high you think you are, or who you were. That’s not going to fly with me, I frankly don’t give a shit. Here in this Grail War, we are equals, and we are partners. We are winning this War together, on both parts as Master and Servant. You are not running away to do as you please like some teenager, and to make sure you don’t-”

Her eyes widened, watching Yoongi lift his right hand, the hand engraved with his three Command Seals. “You wouldn’t-!”

“By the order of this Command Seal, I hereby order you to absolute obedience towards your Master.” With that, Yoongi’s hand showed bright red. A red ring appearing around his hand as it expanded, the woman backing up, but got caught into it. She hissed as the red light vividly shocked her, making her to grit her teeth and clenched her fists tightly to her sides. And just as soon as the ring appeared, it disappeared. Along with one of Yoongi’s three Command Seals.

“Are you that daft, human!?” she shouted. “To waste a Command Seal with so broad of an order!? Clearly, your mother had dropped you several times!”

“Actually,” he said matter-of-factly, “I was raised by my maid and she only dropped me once.”

Yoongi crossed his arms against his chest, his tone deepening as he peered down at her, “I am your Master and you are my Servant. We are in a coexisting relationship until we win this War. You will have your wish, and I will have mine. After that, we will never see one another ever again, and in order to win, I need your absolute obedience. No matter how much you don’t think I am capable, I am your only shot at winning. So unless you want to turn it in early, I can tuck away my pride and give you to the Vatican. However, I assure you, they will terminate you to take your remaining seals for their own.”

“So, how about it, little miss?” Yoongi smirked when she remained quiet, “Do you want to win or not?”

The woman stood silent, absolutely baffled. Never in her mortal or her immortal life has anyone ever spoken to her like this, God nor human has dared. She stood her ground, though. Nothing did even phase her so much anyhow, “I see. I will prove that you wasted that Command Seal, human.”

Yoongi offered his hand out towards her, waiting for the woman to take it. “Truce?”

She tightened her lips again, nose high in the air as she looked him deep into his eyes. Taking his hand quickly into her own small with her armored arm. Dropping it as soon as she took it. “This will be one of the few times I will allow you to touch me, Mongrel. As long as you are alive, I will fight for you. And if you happen to die, I will not hesitate to make another pact with another mage. I will win this War.”

“See? How hard is it to be nice?”

The woman scoffed, flipping her long hair as she sat back down into the spot she was summoned. “The only reason why I’m not torturing you nor killing you is because even if the Holy Grail is the one that truly summons me, your mana is what anchors me to this world. Your mana feed is more than satisfactory, and I don’t want to waste it on finding a new mage to please me. I guess you are indeed a first-rate mage, you did summon me after all.”

Yoongi didn’t want to blush, but he felt it creep onto his ears. Causing him to turn quickly to hide it, covering his face with his hand. “Too late for flattery, you were a total bitch to me for the last two hours.”

“You’re confusing that with power, Mongrel. I am too much of a woman for you to handle. If I were in my male form, you surely would be bowing to me, by now,” she shrugged as if it were rocket science.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, sassy missy,” Yoongi just waved her off, facing her as he turned back to her. He gasped when he narrowed down at her, “Wait. What class are you, anyway? A Berserker? Your armor and attitude fit the bill.”

She scoffed yet again, “Hate to displease you, human, but I am no lowly Berserker.”

“Then what are you? You have no Noble Phantasms visible. Who are you?”

She remained quiet for a bit, tapping her uncovered finger against her armored hand. “I am an Archer, that I do know, and you shall refer to me as so. Though, due to your incomplete summons, I do not know who I am. It will come to me with time, I’m sure.”

“You’re kidding me!” groaned Yoongi, sighing out deeply. “I wasted all those gems and I didn’t even get a Saber! I got an Archer who doesn’t even know her own fucking name! I wanted to win with ease, not struggle in the mud-” Yoongi just massaged his temples, “but alas, it’s my fault for not double checking the time.”

“I’ll make you rue your words, Mongrel,” Archer hissed, narrowing her eyes at him, “And when that day comes when we win, apologize all you’d like, but I won’t forgive you.”

Yoongi took in her words. Smiling fondly to himself as he approached her. He stood a foot away from her, Archer doing nothing, but look at him with those red eyes of hers.

“See to it that I regret my words, then, Archer,” he bent over, patting the woman fondly on the head like she was an angry cat that needed soothing. She was too utterly baffled that she couldn’t smack his hand away, too caught up with him touching her again. The nerve he’s shown. He pulled his hand away, still smiling down at her. “And when you do, and when we both win, I’ll make you let me apologize for saying the wiser.”

Archer remained quiet, staring at him in mild shock until a smirk spread across her perfect lips. “I see then. You better hold your words to your grave, Mongrel.”

“Of course, I am your Master, after all.”

“Go to hell.”

“Oh, look what I have here. I have two Command Seals left, I wonder how I should-”

“They’re not toys, you know!”

♕

hopefully, this wasn’t too bad. stayed tuned for more!

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfction #ot7 #ot7 x reader #ot7 x you #bts x you #ot7 drabble #ot7 reactions #thisisus #sadboykookie

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