#the cost of victory au update

[thecostofvictoryau]

News/Update

Hi! I know this probably isn't what anyone wanted to see (not even me) but there is going to be a long delay on chapter one.

My brother, somehow, reset my whole computer. Therefore all the art I have made for TCV (Including the ones I already uploaded) has been deleted from both my files, and my drawing program. I am going to have to start from scratch (minus the script)

I apologize but there is nothing I can do to get this back,

Signed, @chattieb

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Previous - Chapter 4 - Next - Masterlist - Playlist - Art - Ao3

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: princess bride!AU, pirate!izuku, reader is in an arranged marriage with someone else, angst, smut, brief mentions of alcoholism and drinking too much, izuku spends some time as a prisoner of war, specifically as a galley slave, implied SA but not to yn or Izuku

a/n: i am doing my best. it aint much, but it is my best. please enjoy this centuries-late update (:

Stain was right. Izuku would and did beat men to death with his bare hands. Some days, he even enjoyed it.

It was all a matter of getting there.

There was a red stain on the planks of the deck. It lay perfectly within the borders of a painted circle near the helm. Izuku paced, unchained, around the perimeter of that circle. This was what he did with the precious few moments of pseudo-freedom he was afforded each week; he paced the circle— his bleeding ground— and he remembered. 

I swear to you, I will come back. 

At first, Izuku had resisted indulging Chisaki Kai’s desire for bloodsport. The chain and the oar, he’d borne with dignity; he was no stranger to work or harsh treatment, and though his muscles ached and the whip stung, it was bearable enough if he did not think overmuch. Like a good slave, he did all that was asked of him without complaint, even eating the gruel they passed off as food without so much as a murmur— but when he was asked to endure the animal indignity of being forced to fight an innocent human being for sport, something within him rose, righteous, rebellious. The demand had been wormwood in his mouth, and his first time in the ring, Izuku had let the other man beat him bloody, preferring to let his opponent take their rage out on his flesh rather than give their spectators the satisfaction of retaliation.

There was some pride in that, his resistance. Even when one of the guardsmen stepped forward, whip in hand, pride shielded him, bearing in part the pain he felt strike after strike— but soon even that was stripped from him when he heard Ochako scream out above the jeering crowd. 

“Izuku!” she’d screamed, as if the words had been ripped from her by force. “Fight back! Fight him, or they’ll kill you!”

Izuku thought of home, then. 

He thought of (Y/N), wondered if she was worried for him.

He thought of death, eternal rest beyond this world of whips and chains. 

He thought of breaking his promise.

I swear to you, I will come back.

Izuku— battered and bloody, but not beaten— had grabbed the whip as it lashed out to strike him, allowing it to wrap around his hand before closing his fist over it. For better or for worse, that was the moment that he decided his fate. He would come back to her, no matter the cost. 

That night, he'd killed the guardsman who'd beaten him, then, unstoppable, had crushed his opponent beneath his boot heel. There had been no contest. That night, dark and bloody, had marked the first of many such nights— and tonight would be no different. Even his body seemed to know it as it trembled in anticipation. Though it was seldom indeed that Izuku remembered his fights, his body never, ever forgot. It kept the score in the aching kiss of bruised knuckles, in the taste of blood on a busted lip, in the throbbing headache from an overhead blow that never seemed to go away. 

It was only a matter of getting there. 

The evening’s entertainment was light work for Izuku. On the latest run ashore, the captain had procured some fodder for the bloodsport— tribal natives who spoke no language in common with anyone aboard, and whose bodies, however lean and strong, were no match for Izuku’s cursed, wretched speed and power. In an effort to create an actual challenge for him, they'd set two of the poor wretches on him at once. After a few minutes of toying with them, Izuku had slammed their heads together so hard at the temples that they'd all but cracked like eggs. 

The victory wine rolled down his chin, the taste of it like vinegar and rot. 

“Come,” he distantly heard Chisaki say. Without looking, he knew that the captain spoke to Todoroki Shoto. Without so much as turning his head, he could feel the horrible, hair-raising weight of the captain's hand on Todoroki’s shoulder. It was always so after the fighting. Today, Izuku could not bring himself to bear witness once more, not even for the sake of his friend. Not when he knew what he would see, and what would come later.

Selfish, a little voice cried inside his head. Selfish, selfish. 

That voice cracked harder than any whip, and Izuku looked to the endless stretch of ocean, bleeding, wondering. 

Wondering if the waves were easier. 

Something— someone— pinched the tender skin of his inner arm. He turned to find Ochako, small and sad, but no less pretty than she'd always been, staring up at him with big, dark, reflective eyes. 

“You look tired,” she said, though he did not feel it. “Come below with me.”

Ochako held out her arm, and Izuku let himself be led. A look passed between Ochako and Bakugou along the way, and his childhood friend passed his mop and bucket to a put-upon Iida— something that he'd never have gotten away with any other night of the week, but there it was— and in three long strides, was at his other side. 

“Idiot,” Bakugou grumbled under his breath, alongside a thousand curses, but he linked his arm through Izuku's as though he were helping him stumble drunkenly down the stairs. Kacchan always was at his meanest when he was worried about something. 

Belowdecks, in the slave quarters, the three of them waited in utter darkness. What they were waiting for, Izuku couldn't have said. It was a long time that they stayed awake, touching one another lightly as if to remind each other that they were alive. Eventually, though, those touches became fewer and fewer until Ochako’s snores and Bakugou’s soft exhalations were the only sound. Izuku envied them. He wished he could sleep.

Sometime during the night, after even Iida had been brought belowdecks and was sound asleep, the oaken door creaked and a sliver of lamplight sliced through the darkness. In that brief light— just a flicker before the door was shut against it— Izuku could see Todoroki’s face. It was bruised on one side— his good side— and tears had made shining tracks down his face. That horrible image burned behind Izuku’s eyes long after the door had been shut and Todoroki had shuffled blindly over to him, knocking his knee against Izuku's foot in a fumbling crawl. 

Out of the damp, heavy silence, Todoroki spoke. 

“I want you to kill me.”

His voice was raw and broken, likely from screaming. He was close, now, Izuku knew�� not just from the proximity of his voice, but also from the smell of copulation. 

“I can’t do it again,” he continued. “He threatened— he said—”

His voice broke. A hand fumbled blindly for Izuku, grabbed him, and squeezed him so tightly that he feared his bones would break beneath that grip. 

“If you are any friend of mine— if you have any mercy— you will kill me. I know you can. I've seen you do it. Please, Izuku.”

“Shoto…” 

A queasy feeling roiled within Izuku. The boat rocked hard to the left, and he thought he might be sick. 

“If you knew what he does to me,” Todoroki choked out, “You would kill me. There is yet enough kindness in you for it.”

A cold hand yanked Izuku's arm until his hand was resting on Todoroki's throat. Those frigid fingers pressed against his own, contracting his grip. 

“Please.”

Izuku shook his head— then promptly felt foolish, because of course Todoroki could not see that he had, not in the utter dark. 

“I can't.”

Todoroki's hand trembled against his own.

“You must, Izuku. I am not above begging.”

“No, Shoto.”

Todoroki took a shuddering breath, and Izuku realized with shock that his friend had begun to cry. 

“Please.” His voice was high and tremulous, like the weakened warble of a child. “I can’t bear it. I can’t. I can’t bear it another night. He hurts me, Izuku. I can't bear it.”

A pang of sorrow wracked Izuku. How many times had he thought those selfsame words? How many times had he looked at those waves, so dark and perilous, and thought of casting his lot with them rather than the wicked men who held his life and squeezed the pulp from it? 

But Todoroki was leaving nothing to chance. He did not want to fight the waves, or risk recapture. He wanted to be sure of the deed. What right had Izuku to refuse him?

And yet there was a force unseen, unknown, that stopped him— a mere hint of a quiet whisper rumbled in the depths of his soul. 

Not yet.

“We must live.” He squeezed Todoroki’s hand with the words. “We must. We must live, and we must escape.”

“Escape?” Todoroki hissed the word as though it were a curse. “Have you gone mad?”

The words were out of him before he realized it. Had he even thought of escape before this moment? No, he hadn’t, and yet there it was— the obvious solution. He and his friends were few, yes, but the number of galley slaves aboard the ship far outnumbered the crew. Chisaki Kai and his men were only human. They were bound to slip sometime. 

“Perhaps,” Izuku admitted to the darkness. “Perhaps.”

Madness or no, though, a million plans flashed through his mind— some plausible, but most impossible, impossible. Still, they persisted, even in his dreams, and they did not leave— he would not let them leave— until the day he tasted freedom, or death one.

It was all just a matter of getting there.

***

At times, it seemed as though (Y/N) could see the whole of the realm from her chamber window. 

She had never been so high up in her life, before she moved to the castle. From where she sat, pulling needle and thread through thick linen fabric, she could see miles and miles of rolling hills and their verdant valleys, stretching out like ocean waves beneath her high tower. Tall, untouched grass lay in a thick coat over the land, and like so many rebellious coat-tails flapping in the breeze, the blades of grass waved cheerfully to and fro as if in greeting. 

As beautiful as the scene before her might have been, it was not this image which (Y/N) sought to capture with white linen and colorful thread. Instead of brilliant green, the color of her thread was coal-black, and the shape of her stitches were not gentle, sloping hills, but that of a young man's profile. It was not a perfect rendition of the image she held in her mind, and indeed she would say that it was not even a very good one— but there was some comfort in tracing the curve of the familiar young man's graceful, upturned nose, his rounded, ever-shaven jaw. Tiny french knots littered the space of his cheek next to slightly-curved lashes, and all that was left for her to finish was the difficult twists and turns of his wild mane of curly hair. 

Tears stained the fabric, making it damp and heavy in her once-calloused hands. 

He was a year and a half gone, and yet the wound of his absence felt as raw as ever it had. Izuku Midoriya, her first and only love, haunted her in the daytime and loved her still in the darkest hours of the night; there were times she could swear she could hear him sighing next to her, or feel his lips, chapped and chaste, against her cheek. She loved, loved, loved him— but he was dead, doubtless at the bottom of the ocean, his flesh turned to food for fish and his bones indistinguishable from the countless others who had died aboard the same ship. 

He was dead, and it was her fault. 

Now, she supposed the gods were punishing her. Trapped in this gilded cage, she felt like a nightingale brought to a temple as a sacrifice, waiting for the bitter bite of a knife against her throat.

Her curse? 

(Y/N) was to be the next princess— the next queen— of all of Florin.

It had all happened so fast (Y/N) even wondered if she was present for the whole affair. Prince Humperdinck had begun a tour of the countryside shortly after Izuku’s death, purportedly holding feasts and dances with all the country folk. How the crown could afford that while at war with Gildur, (Y/N) didn’t know and didn’t care to ask, even when the prince’s party visited the neighboring village. Numbly, she’d let her friends lace her tightly into her finest dress on the night Prince Humperdinck hosted a ball; with all the presence of a woman still sleeping, she’d sat at the table closest the prince, eyes on her lap. What right had she to dance and make merry when her lover was dead? What right had any of them to celebrate? 

Then, the next day, Humperdinck had approached her father with an offer, and that was that. From that moment on, (Y/N) had been stuffed into the most beautiful clothes she’d ever seen and paraded through town after town, all through the country until they reached Humperdinck’s castle. The people loved her, and there were as many whispers of her beauty as her low birth— a rarity, in Florin. She was living the life any girl of her standing would kill to have… and yet, it was a life that she would be willing to die to escape

Often, she thought of how better it would have been if Izuku had only been a lesser man. If he had only heeded her pleas for him and married her despite her father, or if he had made love to her when she asked, perhaps she could have saved herself from this fate. Maybe if she'd told the prince of her sullied virginity, or perhaps had even been carrying a farm boy's bastard, she would have been less appealing to him— but as it was, the memory of that night and Izuku's rejection of her advances was firmly fixed in her mind, reminding her always of his honor and virtue and kindness to her.

I want to do this the right way, he'd told her, squeezing her hand. I love you, (Y/N), and I won't do wrong by you just because you want it. True love, our love, cannot be stopped by time, by distance, or even by death. Have patience, darling. All things will happen in their time. 

And so he'd set off in search of gold and glory, with only a sword at his hip and a cap on his head. (Y/N) should have known that she would never see him again, but she had hoped… she had hoped. 

How cruel it was that he was taken and she yet remained. Often, (Y/N) thought of how much better it would have been to meet Izuku's fate and not her own— to have died rather than been the one who was left behind. In death, at least Izuku was at rest. He could feel no pain, no regret. He could not remember those last days they had together, or mourn that they were now gone. 

It felt like all she ever did was remember. It was as if she had left herself in the past, her present self merely a shell. 

There was a soft knock at her door.

"My lady?"

Upon hearing the small, timid voice of her chambermaid at her door, (Y/N) quickly pressed her embroidery against her torso, concealing its design. She turned to find Liliana— for that was the chambermaid's name— poking her head in with a hesitant smile, and she returned one of her own, or as close as she could manage with such sorrows resting heavily on her heart. 

"What is it, Lily-dear?" she asked, welcoming the maid in with a beckoning hand. 

"His Majesty wishes to see you now," said Liliana, blushing girlishly, as though the master of the castle didn't make the exact same call at least thrice daily. "He's waiting in his chambers."

(Y/N) had learned long ago how to keep the disgusted scowl off of her face, concealing her true feelings, but there were times when doing so was more challenging than others. 

"Tell my dear prince that I am busy at present," she said, standing from her seat at the window. "Tell him— tell him I was just about to go riding, if he would like to join me."

Riding, (Y/N) had found, was an excellent compromise between her desire and that of her fiance. Prince Humperdinck loved to ride, loved the chase, and loved her; (Y/N) loved to ride, loved to be free to roam the grassy hills, and loved to escape him. She was the best rider within a hundred miles, the Hump (as she unaffectionately thought of him) included; she loved nothing more than to challenge the prince to a race he would not win, not on any steed or on any day. Admittedly, she took a sick sort of pleasure in defeating the Hump in just this one thing, as though her triumph over him could win back some measure of her dignity, her agency, her happiness.

Alas, such a thing could never be— not with what he'd taken from her. 

"But my lady!" Liliana protested, "You aren't dressed for such!"

"Then dress me."

The command came swiftly and easily, as if from the mouth of a born princess. Sometimes, (Y/N) shocked herself with how much like true royalty she had become, how far removed she was from the woman Izuku Midoriya had fallen in love with. Sometimes, she wondered if he could still love the woman she had become.

“Of course, my lady,” Liliana curtsied, oblivious to (Y/N)’s inner conflict, and (Y/N) fought back a sigh as Liliana walked forward, cheerful and ready to follow her lady’s every command.

As strong, working hands brushed close to her body, divesting her of first her corset, then her dress, (Y/N) wondered just how far away she was from the sea. She wondered, while her legs were freed from her stockings, if she could ride away and away, urging her horse onwards until she reached the cold, rocky shores that had borne her love away from her. Most of all, though, she wondered if perchance she rode her horse into the waves how far she must go until rider and steed both drowned, the story finally ending with one last gasp full of stinging salt-water— so very like that of her tears.

Though, I must not die, (Y/N) thought idly to herself, stepping into little leather riding boots. I must live. He would not want me to die, after all— he would want me to live, and be happy.

To live and be happy— what laborious pursuits! And yet (Y/N) could do no less to honor her lover’s memory. 

And so it was with a smile that she thanked Liliana for dressing her and dismissed the maid to deliver her message. 

Moments later, (Y/N) would walk to the stables where she would meet the man that she would marry with that same smile, seeming to the world to be the perfect princess, a fine match in looks and in heart to Prince Humperdinck. She would meet him, greet him, and let him kiss the soft leather covering her hand, and he would never know the depth of the sorrow that she carried with her from day to day, week to week, month to month like a condemned man might be forced to carry his noose to the hanging tree. He would never know how much she hated him, despised him for who he was and what he had done to her; he would never know how she longed to be free, to live her life in misery of her own choosing rather than of his.

He would never know, never even ask— and she would never tell.

[requindeterre]

Scumplane Pacific Rim AU pt 4

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 3]

I forgot to post this here when I updated it on AO3. Oops

Returning to base after being so certain he would never see it again left Shen Qingqiu with mixed feelings. He had been fully ready to die for people who were at best, indifferent to him, at worst considered him a caustically unpleasant glory hound out to steal victories from 'worthier' pilot teams. Not that Shen Jiu ever put much stock in their opinions of him, changing a poor first opinion would take time and energy more effectively used to optimize training simulations based on the new data from each Breach. It would be an uphill battle and not one that he was at all interested in engaging in. 

If his inevitable burn out had been the price to pay for the safety of the only place he had reasonably called home in his miserable life, it was a minuscule cost in the face of the debt he owed after being given a chance to make something of himself - even if he had to fight tooth and nail to get there. Tactically speaking, using him as a sacrificial piece on the board to secure a broader victory was a sound strategy. A lone pilot was a liability - but, the mind nestled with his like chickens in a coop was a reminder that he could no longer claim status as a lone pilot. He reached out to brush Shang Qinghua's mind, reassuring himself that he wasn't alone. 

They were both exhausted and clinging to the last dregs of victory to finish the mission by the time Shen Qingqiu finally docked Xiu Ya in its transport. In the quiet of the con pod he curled his mind protectively around Shang Qinghua's, the closest contact he had allowed himself since separating from Qi-ge all those years ago, while the transport ferried them the rest of the way back to base. 

What an odd little surprise to have been hidden in plain sight. Whether Shen Qingqiu had netted himself an unstable pilot pair, laughably appropriate given his own downslide, remained to be seen. The flashes of strange memories had been intriguing but there hadn't been time to chase R.A.B.I.Ts while clearing out the drones. Drones, offspring - whatever they were, they were new and Shen Qingqiu couldn’t say that he much cared for the precedent it potentially set. He made a mental note to follow up on the new Kaiju data during his upcoming stay in Qian Cao's care. Regardless, the fact that Shang Qinghua had already been aware of the broad strokes of the…unpleasantness of his past even if the details Shang Qinghua's mind provided aligned in a strange way, a historical fantasy setting of all things, would be cause for concern if not for the persistent ideation that 'Airplane' was a transmigrator. He added another mental note to casually suggest a psych evaluation for his new partner to the medical staff. That got a distracted grumble from Shang Qinghua's mind. Interesting. 

Before Shen Qingqiu could pick apart the puzzle further, Shang Qinghua's mind began to fade away from his, grains of sand pouring out of a broken hourglass. Something was wrong, something was wrong, something was wrong- instinctual fear gripped him and he latched on, unwilling and unable to let go of the mind meld slipping through his fingers. The hours of academy training about the psychological effects of dropping out of a paired drift were far from Shen Qingqiu’s mind. There was no muscle memory for this, no well of experience to draw from, just the fear of the gift he’d been given being stolen away from him. He set his teeth and clung. It didn’t work. Every ounce of stubbornness in him and it still didn’t work. The connection between them oozed like honey, drop by drop the ties binding them together spun thinner and thinner - then snapped. The part of Shen Jiu that had never truly left the Qiu cried out. Don’t go, stay, don’t leave me here alone again but there was no one else to hear him anymore. 

By the time the techs opened the con pod to retrieve him, Shen Qingqiu was already lurching through the port at speed slowing just enough to rip the helmet from his head. The staff pulled back in alarm for a moment, had Shen Qingqiu actually died on the battlefield and they’d  transported back a fierce corpse? He toppled to the grating of the gangplank halfway between Jaeger and platform, no longer able to stay upright of his own power but determined to drag himself if he had to, and the Qian Cao medics on standby swooped into action. One of the technicians who had opened the door made eye contact as Shen Qingqiu was loaded onto the stretcher. Every time he'd come out of the pod previously he had been cool, calm, and collected as he followed the Qian Cao personnel to receive treatment. Never a hair out of place. Whatever had happened this time had left him shaky and pale as blood poured from his nose. With his wild hair, frantically darting pupils, and fervent soundless whispers, maybe the initial designation of fierce corpse hadn’t been far off after all. Shen Qingqiu continued trying to speak as the stretcher lifted off the ground. It took a moment of carefully watching his lips for the tech to piece together what he was saying. “Where is Shang Qinghua,” over and over and over again.

Shen Qingqiu’s question spread through the dome like wildfire. The last anyone could reliably remember seeing Shang Qinghua was in the Command Room, remotely troubleshooting a buggy bit of code that misread the fuel tanks of Cheng Luan’s secondary thrusters as empty despite a full refuel before deployment. That had been hours ago by this point, before contact had been made. Their clue came forty five minutes into the search from a pair of Shen Qingqiu’s students. “Shang Shishu? Wasn’t he heading toward the labs?” Ning Yingying turned to Ming Fan hovering at her elbow. 

Privately, the An Ding disciple thought that the speed the boy’s head bobbed in his haste to agree with his companion was a rather passable impression of a chicken. But, a lead was a lead and the labs seemed as likely a place for the missing officer to be as any at this point, despite his tendency to avoid the labs after a breach like the plague until an upcoming briefing forced him back to work. Later, an additional allotment of shore leave would find its way to the pair of disciples. No one looked too closely at the strange system error in their favor.

Things moved quickly after Shang Qinghua’s return to consciousness. In tried and true fashion, Shen Qingqiu bullied his way into sharing Shang Qinghua's hospital room, commandeering the second bed and becoming selectively deaf when the staff tried to coax him back to his own room. Older staff were already well-used to his antics and bullheadedness and accepted the change without comment, bringing both sets of medications when making their rounds unasked.

The first time they were left truly alone together, Shang Qinghua flinched whenever Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth, bracing for the interrogation he felt certain was coming. The fifth time it happened Shen Qingqiu’s jaw clamped shut and he pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the building irritation. Enough was enough. He was still unsteady on his feet as he slid out of bed, grabbing the cane at the bedside to make his way to the chair beside his rabbit-hearted partner. Shang Qinghua attempted to scramble off the bed but hadn’t accounted for Shen Jiu’s longer reach, scruffing him by the neck of the Qian Cao issued hospital gown. “Get back in bed, you’re still recovering from your hare-brained rescue operation. And breathe would you?  I can still feel you, your anxiety is making both of our blood pressures rise.” Shen Qingqiu sighed heavily through his nose. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Slowly, watching Shen Qingqiu carefully, Shang Qinghua eased back into bed. When that elicited nothing but a raised eyebrow and a stare that sent disciples fleeing, Shang Qinghua rubbed his nose and sheepishly chuckled. He knew that, he did, and it wasn’t like there was any animosity or ill-intent coming through their link. And wow was that weird to think about, a whole other person being beaming directly into his brain. A lot had happened - was still happening and there was so much to take in and process. They’d never ever had a real conversation, it was always Shen Qingqiu barging into R&D with his usual tirade of ‘Xiu Ya this, drivesuit that, where is my AI co-pilot Shang Qinghua?’ What was a guy supposed to do with that??? Ah, really shixiong, have mercy on your shidi, he was only trying to do the right thing! He saved Shen Qingqiu and was saved in turn according to Mu Qingfang. So, they were even now - no need to make a big deal about it, water under the bridge! They could go back to going their separate ways, this didn’t have to be anything more than a blip!

A wave of sullen resistance passed through Shang Qinghua before a cool hand folded over his, entwining their fingers. The skin to skin contact echoed between them, each feeling both sides of the contact. That - that was a thing, a thing that Shang Qinghua would definitely not be examining the implications of right now, no, nope, absolutely not. He could feel his ears and cheeks heating as an amused huff sounded near his ear. When did Shen Qingqiu get so close? 

Shang Qinghua was saved by one of the nurses entering. As she started in on badgering Shen Qingqiu about being out of bed, he tilted away from her to roll his eyes. When it became clear she wouldn’t leave until she’d taken both of their vitals, from their own beds, he complied begrudgingly but didn't relinquish Shang Qinghua's hand until distance forced the issue, reluctant to the last curl of his fingertips. The phantom touched lingered in Shang Qinghua's mind that night as he traced his fingers in the dark. After their discharge, Shang Qinghua's living quarters were the next target of prolonged contact. Shen Qingqiu had shown up at his door with boxes unannounced and proceeded to make himself at home. A brief wordless battle of confusion and insistence ensued - ending in Shang Qinghua's bachelor pad becoming a shared space like a secondary office or lounge. Airplane couldn't make any sense of it. Why was Shen Qingqiu suddenly taking an interest in him after years of only acknowledging him when Shen Qingqiu needed something from R&D? He was constantly popping up for seemingly no reason and getting under foot. Shen-shixiong, this shidi promised he wouldn't disappear if unobserved for five minutes, really! Being watched like a hawk would be less of an issue if he didn't need to submit a report to Mobei Jun in the pressingly near future. At this rate Shang Qinghua was going to miss a check in and that would go over about as well as the "ribs" served in the mess hall - which was to say, not well at all. 

It wasn't that Shang Qinghua hadn't tried to give his new sort of roommate the slip. He did! He really did! It was just that everytime he thought Shen Jiu was off doing what he was supposed to be like teaching the next generation, Shang Qinghua would spot him through the lab’s reinforced glass wall overlooking the Jaegar bays below - conveniently taking Qing Jing disciples for a tour or walking into the mess hall after Shang Qinghua had just started eating and had no plausible reason to flee. Without fail, Shen Qingqiu’s gaze found him like a heat seeking missile. And each time, the slightest quirk of Shen Qingqiu's lips seemed to say, found you. It wasn't good for Shang Qinghua's heart. 

Just like it wasn’t good for his heart the way Shen Jiu kept touching him when they were in proximity. It was never inappropriate - brushing off metal shavings clinging to the shoulder of his jumpsuit, a tug on his sleeve to redirect him out of the flow of on-coming foot traffic while he talked his way through a problem, and one memorable time crouching down to retie the laces of his boot while his hands were full of an unwieldy crate. That one had thankfully been in a rarely traveled maintenance corridor. Tongues were already wagging about how Shen Qingqiu’s well-documented avoidance of others had been thrown out the window after Xiu Ya’s return and Airplane would vastly prefer to be privy to gossip rather than the source of it.

“It’s because they have nothing better to do with their time,” Shen Jiu mused from their couch without looking up from his book one evening.

In the kitchenette the cheery yellow kettle clicked off and Shang Qinghua absently began pouring water for their tea, talking over his shoulder. 

“For as busy as the rest of us are, you’d think they’d have found something better to talk about by now. Like how that group of Ku Xing kids are always sneaking over to Zui Xian after curfew. They’re not exactly subtle when coming back but not a single disciplinary - Ah, Shit!”

Shen Jiu’s head popped up over the back of the couch immediately to assess the situation. Shang Qinghua’s tendency toward flapping about while speaking had come back to bite him. Or burn him in this case. The kettle had been set down in favor of holding his burnt hand to blow on it.

Cute. Airplane shot an accusatory pout toward the couch.

“No, don’t you dare. You’re the one who insisted on tea in the first place!”

Still fondly amused, Shen Jiu rose from his elegant sprawl to guide the injured hand under cool water. His grip was gentle as he held Airplane’s wrist in one hand and cradled the other palm to palm, rotating their joined hands slowly so none of the burn was missed. Shang Qinghua looked up at him through slightly teary lashes. Noticing the attention, Shen Jiu turned with a hum and an unguarded smile. And wow, it’s not like Airplane had never noticed Shen Jiu’s looks - cold, mean, and pretty was his type after all - but this, this was different. Touchable. The warm light softened the sharp planes of his face and this close Shang Qinghua could see the faint scattering of  faded freckles across his cheeks normally well camouflaged beneath a thin layer of powder.

Whatever was coming through their heightened bond darkened Shen Jiu’s eyes, lids lowering to half mast as he touched their foreheads together.

“Breathe little rabbit.”

The tips of their noses touched, slid along each other as the angles shifted close enough to share a breath between them. A heartbeat, two, drumming between them as the bridge closed.

Only to jump apart as an all-too familiar siren rang through the dome. Another Breach.

[roseanne-solace]

Haven't posted in a hot minute, kinda lost interest in this, oops.

Uhm, sorry? But, uh, story name that just popped into my head, uhhh, probably gonna name this AU/story Saving The Team. Why? I don't know. It just popped into my head to be real.

Uh, speaking of that, I updated the background thing I had posted before;

As children, Team Crafted was chosen by Steve and Alex to be the next generation of warriors, given powers and trained as they grew up. Mortal fighting by Alex, survival by Steve, how to use their powers in a safe way by Notch. Everything was fine, everyone was happy, the team was making amazing progress and were some of the best warriors that Notch had.

However, the problems started right before the team was sent out into the world to do their job, protect people and make a name for themselves.

Notch grew aggressive, stern, his expectations went through the roof. He was never happy with what the team did, what Steve or Alex did. Harvey messed up a potion? Notch banned him from potion making for two weeks. Mitch made the wrong move during training? He was forced to do it over and over again until Notch was happy, even if he makes no mistakes after that first time. Sky made a wrong call on a mission and it cost a life or a few? He wasn't allowed to go on missions for a week, month or more unless absolutely needed.

His behavior caused some tensions to rise in the team, making them hesitant to make a mistake in any sort of way, causing them to snap at each other if something went wrong. Even drove Alex and Steve away at one point.

Though, that went away for a while after they were finally let out in the world. They stuck together and set up their base, made a name for themselves like they wanted to, like their goal was. Everything was fine for years and years, up until a big war between Notch and Herobrine.

This war between the two brothers went on for nearly five decades, people died, villages, towns, capitals, even full biomes were destroyed. The world wasn't a safe place anymore, it was dark and dreary, people were scared for their lives... Everything practically came to a halt until the war was finally over.

Nearly six decades after it started, the war finally ended with Notch raining victorious, banning his brother into the Nether, however, things never went back to normal.

Notch was no longer the caring, kind ruler he once was. He was ruthless, hard on his warriors and servants, showed no mercy to his people, nothing like he was when he first created the world. The world was sheathed in darkness after the war, the sun never shone anymore, it was always cold and more often than not, it was raining.

Not long after the war, only about two months after, Team Crafted suddenly disappeared. No one really knows where they went or what happened to them, how they disappeared or if they were still alive.. It's all a mystery and no one has been brave enough to try and figure it out.

That was until decades and decades later, eight boys from eight different towns, despite having been raised this way, got fed up and decided to take matters into their own hands.

Uh, yeah! I made that during a Halloween party in October and then never did anything else but make the characters. I need to get back on this, don't I? Need to get something canon and done lol

[timesofinnovation]

The legal landscape surrounding gender identity rights in Australia witnessed a significant shift with the recent ruling by the Federal Court in favor of Roxanne Tickle, a transgender woman who was removed from the female-only social networking app, Giggle for Girls. This court ruling is a pivotal moment, marking the first time the court addressed issues of gender identity discrimination under the amended Sex Discrimination Act enacted in 2013. Roxanne Tickle's journey towards justice began after Giggle for Girls revoked her membership, stating that she did not meet their criteria for a woman based strictly on her sex assigned at birth. The court found this decision to be discriminatory, awarding Tickle AU$10,000 in damages along with her legal costs. This decision highlights a growing recognition of transgender individuals’ rights within the framework of Australian law. The court's ruling underscored that simply relying on sex assigned at birth as the sole criterion for defining gender identity is increasingly seen as an outdated practice. Judge Robert Bromwich pointed out that Tickle had undergone gender-affirming surgery and had updated her birth certificate to reflect her gender identity. Such steps are crucial in affirming one’s identity and should be respected by society and its institutions. Experts have heralded this ruling as a landmark victory for transgender rights in Australia. Professor Paula Gerber from Monash University emphasized the importance of this case as a clear message that transgender women should not be treated differently from cisgender women. This sentiment is particularly pertinent to the context of women-only spaces such as social networking platforms, which often aim to provide safe environments for women. Giggle for Girls, marketed as a safe space for women, faced considerable backlash after Tickle's removal from the platform. Although the app has ceased operations amidst the controversy, it is planning to relaunch, with its founder, Sally Grover, acknowledging the court's judgment. She affirmed that discussions around women’s rights would remain ongoing, hinting at the complex intersection of gender identity and the rights of women. Tickle expressed her relief following the court's decision, describing the ruling as a form of ‘healing’ after enduring online abuse and discrimination. Her case illustrates the struggles many transgender individuals face in asserting their identities and rights. The psychological toll of such discrimination can be profound, highlighting the need for broader societal understanding and legal protections for marginalized groups. This legal precedent cannot be understated. It represents a shift towards a more inclusive approach in the interpretation of laws regarding gender, which advocates hope will lead to further protections for the LGBTQ+ community in Australia. With the court’s commitment to recognizing the rights of transgender individuals, there is hope for future legal advancements that continue to dismantle discriminatory practices against marginalized groups. As Australia grapples with its evolving gender rights landscape, Tickle’s case stands out as a turning point, prompting a reassessment of how gender identity is understood within society. This ruling could pave the way for more comprehensive policies that protect individuals from discrimination based on gender identity, further enriching the tapestry of human rights in the nation. In conclusion, the Federal Court’s decision not only signals progress for gender identity rights in Australia but also serves as a reminder of the enduring fight against discrimination. It emphasizes the importance of legal recognition and societal acceptance of transgender individuals, fostering a climate where everyone can navigate their identity without fear of exclusion or prejudice.

[raven-of-domain-kwaad]

My writings masterpost

Just something I’ll constantly be updating as I try to put snippets together. All of these are divided up by the character they focus on. They are also placed in chronological order for that character.

Serra Kine

“First Impressions” Serra’s first meeting with her eventual Jedi nemesis

Ryscha Kine

“Please...” (Whumptober2020 prompt) Ryscha has been Vitiate’s plaything for almost a year. Her mind somehow resisted him for all that time but everyone has their limits and she has reached hers.

“Alone” Ryscha receives a message from Republic Command and the Jedi about the future of her crew.

“Broken hearts” (Whumptober2020 prompt) Ryscha, the disgraced Hero of Tython, and Lord Loyat share a moment together.

“Isolation” (Whumptober2020 prompt) Ryscha deals with the repercussions of Satele’s Valiant speech which condemned her in front of the entire Republic.

A difference of opinion The Hero of Tython and Barsen’thor are sent to retake Tython. But the world obviously means more to one than the other.

“Wrongfully accused” (Whumptober2020 prompt) After the events on Rakata Prime, Ryscha returns to Carrick Station. But she soon learns that the station is not nearly as welcoming as it once was.

“That didn’t stop you before” (Fictober2020 prompt)  Ryscha and Loyat play a friendly game of pazaak with each other. Loyat then decides to get under Ryscha’s skin.

“Nightmares and Tea” Ryscha Kine deals with a nightmare. Her wives (Lana and Loyat) comfort her.

Amarra Kine

“No, absolutely not” A last minute detail for their attack on the Nova Blades leaves the Wrath less than pleased with her allies.

“That was impressive” (Fictober2020 prompt) Amarra calls together a meeting of the Dark Council to discuss the war with Zakuul.

Whumping the Wrath - Bad AU continuation of “That was impressive”

My Cipher - Amarra realizes that she is truly and hopelessly in love

“From the journals of Amarra Kine” Entry of Amarra Kine’s journal during the war with zakuul

“The things you make me do” (Fictober 2021) Amarra Kine and Amélie Biava find a quiet place to relax away from the Alliance victory celebration

Amélie Biava

At any cost  Amélie is contacted by the former Keeper for a final job during the Imperial invasion of Corellia.

“This one is alright” Amélie makes an important career decision

“I missed this” (Fictober2020 prompt) Amélie is sent to destroy a star fortress shield bunker.

Kelsa Kine

“Doorstep collapse” (Angstpril 2022) Kelsa struggles to get back home after a bad day at work

“Left behind” (Angstpril 2022) Kelsa attempts to escape from a Hutt spice mine

“Begging” (Angstpril 2022) Kelsa is tortured by the Hutt Cartel

“Restrained/Flashback” (Angstpril 2022) The Hutt Cartel has discovered a way to make Kelsa very profitable

“Betrayal” (Angstpril 2022) Kelsa learns that there is no honor among thieves

“Nightmares” (Angstpril 2022) Sleep is not always a blissful escape from reality

“Whumper run-in” (Angstpril 2022) Kelsa sees a figure from her past

“Talking is overrated” (Whumptober 2021) Kelsa must deal with a Hutt trap

“I’ve waited for this” (Fictober 2021) Kelsa Kine makes a decision regarding the direction she wants her life to take

Élise Kine

“Symbol / torture meme prompt” Élise Kine and her husband Braken Rist have some fun together

Bryala Kine

“You are ready for this” Bryala, Damar and Lee are all told the same thing but in very different contexts

Adas Legacy AU with @swtorpadawan

“Full Circle“ (Written by @swtorpadawan) Kelsa Kine awakens to learn she is no longer a slave of the Hutts but who is it that has rescued her and why?

“Alchemy and breakfast“ Kelsa considers her place in the galaxy and what she wants to do moving forward

“In The Garden” (Written by @swtorpadawan) Teeanah Malvern and Kelsa Kine spend some time together in the Malvern estate’s garden

“A Servant of The Circle” Kelsa Kine wishes to join The Circle but she must first prove herself worthy of joining Teeanah’s followers

“I’m sorry” Élise Kine awakens in a dungeon to a surprising yet familiar face

“Apologies” Élise Kine is commanded by Teeanah Malvern to apologize to Kelsa

[starculler]

Fic List & Progress Tracker

An updated version of my previous WIP List Post. I'm always ready and willing to talk about anything on here :D

Last Updated: 4/10/2023

Series

(Dis)Placed:

A 7-part YJ/Avengers Crossover series currently undergoing a complete rewrite, featuring Dick Grayson and Clint Barton:

Losing It All Was Never So Easy

Robin is the latest pawn in the Light's newest game, and all it'll cost him is everything and everyone he's ever known and loved. >> 3028 words, first draft

It's A Leap of Faith (And A Little More)

Clint is ... So Tired, but there's a scared, traumatized, undead kid and no time to rest so he'll do what he does best and push on.

Grief Hangs Heavy In The Air

The anniversary of Dick's disappearance is coming up again, a suffocating and heavy affair for everyone left behind.

Dawn Breaks, Slowly But Surely, Over the Horizon

Life is odd when you're on the run, but Clint and Dick are making the most of it.

Building A Home Among the Ashes

They took Robin from him, but he's willing to put in the work to make it his own again.

The Bitter Taste In My Mouth

Bruce has lost and gained yet another son. This one... Somehow he'll keep this one safe. He can't lose anyone else.

One Foot In Front of the Other

What price is he willing to pay to get back everything he lost?

A New Cat In Town

A 2-part (and counting) AU where Selina takes in recently-orphaned Dick Grayson who goes on to become the thief known as Stray.

Shelter

Selina finds a 9-year-old orphan on the streets and while she'd never call herself a bleeding heart, she can't find it in herself to leave he little stray out here to die.

Debut

Word on the street is Catwoman's found herself a kitten

Crèchemaster Anakin

A 9-part series of multichap and oneshot fics about the version of events if Anakin had become a Crèche-minder instead

Lead Me Down Another Road

Anakin is 12 when his path to knighthood veers in a new, unexpected direction >> 3060 words, first draft

Untitled

There's a little Togruta that will not stop following Anakin around. The The crèche-minders and Obi-Wan find it funny and endearing. Anakin, however, has had it up to here with the snippy little youngling.

Hear the Drums of War

War is coming to the galaxy. It started with Geonosis, but no one know when (or how) it will end. >> 770 words, first draft

Untitled

Anakin watches initiates he's helped raise be sent off to war as fresh-faced Padawans and come back as corpses. Nobody's happy about it.

Untitled

It's been a year since Anakin officially stepped down from being Obi-Wan's Padawan, but Ahsoka still feels like she's stolen his place. Before she ships out to meet her new Master, she decides to approach the senior Padawan to clear the air.

The Taste of Victory is Bittersweet

Anakin is 22 when he finally becomes a Knight. He wishes his trials had been normal, rather than faced in battle.

Untitled

Anakin appreciates the congratulations and celebrations of his Knighting, but all he wants is to bury himself against a few of his favorite people and not think about the life his achievement cost.

End of An Era

The Jedi's fall is not a silent one. The Empire's rise is deafening.

Untitled

Lying to your friends is a reprehensible, if necessary, evil amidst the Empire's rise. Still, with Sabé, her former handmaidens, and a few loyal Senators at her side, Padmé will do what she must to help keep the few remaining Jedi safe.

ROTS AU

A 3-part series where Anakin falls, but his loved ones are enough to drag him back to the Light.

Part 1

Obi-Wan defies his orders to go to Utapau on a hunch and is there when Anakin and the 501st storm the Temple. This changes ... everything.

Part 2

Sidious gets his hands on Anakin. Tere was never going to be another ending to this story. Vader is inevitable whether his apprentice walks into the role willingly or not.

Part 3

Vader is the Emperor's right hand: a terrifying specter of a man clad head-to-toe in black. A nightmare whose very presence dims the light of whatever room he's in. Before him, all cower. Before him, the Emperor will fall.

Multichap & Oneshots

Batman:

On Your Knees

The shot rings in Dick’s ears, a piercing screech that muffles any sound Bruce might have made as he crumples to the ground. >> 2544 words, First Draft

Haunting (Of Wayne Manor)

Jason couldn’t care less that he’s been shut out of the family. He couldn’t care less about the chilling solitude or the gnawing pit in his stomach when he lingers too long on the why. And he certainly couldn’t care less about the Dick Grayson shaped specter chasing after him every hour of the day, bright and buoyant as he hadn’t been the night Jason’s gun put a bullet in his head.

Robin Reversal (Title TBD)

Dick is 9 and newly orphaned, but it’s not just Bruce and Alfred he has to get used to living with in the manor. It’s a lot less lonely of a start, but not everyone’s enthused about the manor’s newest guest.

Star Wars

Crèchemaster Vader

Crèchemaster Anakin alternate ending AU When the Jedi fall, The Sith Lord gets his hands on the potential apprentice long-denied him. Without the necessary sway over the young man, he settles for the gaggle of young hostages the Knight protected so fiercely that night. >> 1301 words, third draft

Events (Ongoing)

Flash Fiction Friday

12 Prompts Completed

DinCobb Zine Contribution (TBD)

Complete

Anidala Zine Contribution (TBD)

Complete

[mygrayheronstair]

War Prize! Lan Wangji

Here is a compilation of War Prize!Lwj Wangxian fics that I have found. I am a bitch for this trope and I really do hope more fics come up after this:

1) love, in fire and blood by cicer

Complete, Word Count: 360,042

"You want Wen Ruohan dead," the Patriarch continued idly. "You want his corpse puppets eliminated. You want his halls burned to the ground and his soldiers disemboweled and begging for mercy. Have I about covered it?"

He gave another knife-edged smile.

"But what will you give me in return?"

"We would be willing to offer quite a bit in return for Wen Ruohan's defeat," Lan Xichen admitted. "But I'm afraid we don't know what an immortal such as yourself desires. Please advise us."

The Patriarch waved at hand at the front of the tent. "I want Second Young Master Lan."

(In which the Sunshot Campaign ends through an arranged marriage to the Yiling Patriarch, and Lan Wangji suffers the mortifying ordeal of falling in love with his own husband.)

2) Possession by trickanery

WIP, Word Count: 52,373

When the Wen Empire launches a bloody campaign to extend the reaches of its borders, their first target is the Kingdom of Gusu. Between the might of Emperor Wen’s army, the leadership of his two biological sons, and the dark, unorthodox powers of his adopted son, Wei Wuxian a.k.a. The Yiling Demon, Gusu is quickly crushed.

As the spoils of war are divided and the surviving Lan disciples are taken as slaves and prisoners, Wei Wuxian shocks the cultivation world by claiming his first and only war prize: the young enemy prince, Lan Wangji.

Both men soon learn that the distinctions between cruelty and kindness, good and evil, and love and hate are hazy and thin — especially when two souls like theirs are fated to meet.

3) tie a knife with a ribbon by iliacquer

Complete, Word Count: 5,594

The Yiling Patriarch makes a bargain with the cultivation world. He'll give them the power to defeat Wen Ruohan. No more death. No more war.

All he wants in return is Lan Wangji.

Warning: Dubious Consent

4) what price is duty, what cost is love by thunderwear

WIP, Word Count: 12,923

The Patriarch had joked about putting him in a veil, but Lan Wangji refused outright, the only piece of autonomy he’d demanded for the whole thing. Being covered like that, trapped, would have made him panic. He might have let tears drip down his cheeks if he hadn’t had to worry about anyone seeing his face.

As Lan Wangji bowed, he thought of his mother, and he almost wept anyway.

In an effort to keep the Yiling Patriarch from destroying their own sects like he’d destroyed Wen Ruohan’s, the Great Sects band together an offer him an alliance in the form of a marriage.

Who better to offer than the Second Jade of Lan?

5) Peace is bought at an expense often thought too high by ceria

Complete, Word Count: 22,365

They are losing to Wen Ruohan and without additional help, they will fail.

6) found you, locked away in this garden by silverashes

WIP, Word Count: 6514

They had saved each other’s lives, once. The reason? Lan Wangji does not know. He does not know why he did not kill the Emperor, and why he was not killed in return. But now, the decision has been sealed. An unequal compromise, everyone had whispered, where the Lan Clan of Gusu is getting more than what the bargain is worth.

The bargain? An end to the war in exchange for Lan Wangji.

Warnings: Slight Dubious Consent

7) to porcelain, to ivory, to steel by sunsandships

Complete, Word Count: 27,165

When Jin Guangshan asked Wei Wuxian what he wanted in return for his support in seizing the throne from Wen Ruohan, Wei Wuxian thought about the beautiful, lonely figure he'd once glimpsed in an open courtyard in Koi Tower. The last of the Lans in the world.

It had been a long time since Wei Wuxian had wanted anything, but he wanted him.

He couldn't have known what getting what he wanted would mean for them both.

Warning: Dubious Consent

8) to topple kingdoms and cities by matcha_ado

WIP, Word Count: 9,635

“A bargain was made, and it will be honored.”

Warning: Dubious Consent

9) Fearing You, Loving You by MaggieoftheOwls

WIP, Word Count: 9,372

When Wei Wuxian came back from the Burial Mounds, he came back wrong. The only effect this has on Lan Wangji's feelings is that now he worries even more about him.

Warning: Dubious Consent

10) Sound it off by Silver999

WIP, Word Count: 481,816

Who do you trust? Are you willing to put your life in the hands of someone else?

Yunmeng Jiang emerges victorious from the latest war but the conflicts are far from being over. For starters, the two Jades of Lan now have to make it in Lotus Pier - a fairly hostile territory for two recently defeated cultivators who have been stripped of their powers. The rest of the cultivating world is not sitting idly either...

... also known as the AU absolutely no one asked for where alliances are totally mixed up, inter-clan wars are a common thing and the Lan brothers end up in captivity.

You're about to read a whole lot of plot and intrigue with sweet, slowburn Wangxian, fluff, angst and humor.

Spanish translation available, you'll find the link in the notes of chapter 1.

-Update (25/3/21)-

11) holding hands with you in this rain-flooded street by puddingcatbeans

Complete, Word Count: 12,768

After the war, the sects come together to write out peace treaties and contracts. As the Wen Sect is all but destroyed, the most terrifying thing in the cultivation world is the Yiling Laozu. Unfortunately, the sects owe him for ending the Sunshot Campaign in their favour.

When Yiling Laozu demands Hanguang-jun as compensation, no one is able to say no.

(or, wei wuxian marries himself to lan wangji for political immunity; but more importantly, he needs to dual cultivate with someone with a strong core or his demonic cultivation will kill him.)

[tomionefinds]

Can u share the tomione fics you guys are currently reading or rereading?? And also some new WIPs that ur excited about? Thanks <3

Hey Anon,

So was actually pretty busy at work until fairly recently. I’ve actually been reading a few books, The Traitor Baru Cormorant and started Grishaverse because I can’t get over Ben Barnes as the Darkling. Yum.

As for Tomione related reads: I am in the process of going through Our Magic Knows No Bounds, it’s a polyamory not strictly Tomione fic though, and I just finished The Bittersweet Taste of Victory before that. I have TOO many WIPS so forgive me not listing them all. I tried to put up the ones I’m excited about that have updated semi-recently. I apologize I’ve been behind on my reads. I know there’s a lot coming out and I just haven’t had a chance to read them. -JD Our Magic Knows No Bounds by PinkGlitterMasturbation E/Ma | Complete | 350k Narcissa Malfoy is done with crazy, and she is determined to fix the mess her life has become.  She has brains, a plan, and more than one dark spell to help her.  But before she can put her plan into motion, she discovers a shocking secret about Hermione Granger, one that the girl doesn't even realize about herself.  Before Hermione knows it, Narcissa has cursed them both, sending them back in time to deal with the Dark Lord in the form of the child Tom Riddle.  Of course, Tom is no ordinary child, and time doesn't take kindly to being rewritten, so this will be a bumpy ride full of awesome, magical women, pragmatic decisions, and, rest assured, dear readers, plenty of sex eventually!

The Bittersweet Taste Of Victory by NerysDax E/Ma | Complete | 248k Victory always comes at a price. Is the biggest cost the loss of his immortality, the boredom, or the little nail in his coffin he can't seem to apprehend? Volmione.

Blood and Gold by ObsidianPen E/Ma | WIP | 117 The true time-turner was slammed savagely into Hermione's throat. It shattered against her neck, bits of glass and gold piercing into her skin. The last thing she saw before blackness consumed her was a plume of metallic dust and vitreous fragments, tiny prisms dancing behind her eyelids.

The Only Beautiful Thing in the World by Speechwriter (batmansymbol) T+ | WIP | 40k Everyone knows that Tom Riddle is the perfect Avatar. An effortless diplomat and prodigious bender, he’s the Fire Nation’s pride and joy. Strangely, though, Riddle has never been able to access the Avatar State. To that end, Hermione Granger—a Northern waterbending master—has been invited to the Fire Nation’s Royal Palace, in hopes that her qi-therapy techniques will unlock Riddle’s full Avatar power. No one knows that Hermione Granger is part of a society that has been tracking Riddle’s actions meticulously for years. Hermione knows full well that Riddle isn’t what he seems. She knows what he’s planning to do if he unlocks the Avatar State. She’s going to make sure that never happens.

Stepbrother by cherry cup M | WIP | 96k AU. The Grangers adopt a young Tom Riddle, and seal their daughter's fate forever. Set in the 30s-40s.

The girl with everything, and the boy from nothing by bunnystealsyourcarrots M | WIP | 25k A Tomione Medieval Au where a lord from nothing and nowhere surrounds the castle of a princess with the intent to take everything from her brick by bloody brick.

The Conductor and the Violinist by ourultraviolence M | WIP | 47k 1906, Riddle, a conductor, is a prodigy at the Royal Opera House. Hermione Granger is a brilliant violinist but he does not seem to agree on that. Tomione.

Best of Intentions by prankstergangster83

M | WIP | 59k

Hermione Granger has always wanted to be accepted. She thought when she found out she was a witch, things in her life would make sense. Feeling just as alone as she did in the muggle world, she loses hope. After coming across an antique in Knockturn Alley, her life changes. This is AU. I only own the new stuff. JK owns the recognizable bits.

[chimswae]

BTS Caretaker CH40

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 3,998

- Author Note: Hello hello, so i made an update on time this time around *proud* hahaha so thank you for those who reads whether u new or old or u just catch up on it again, im really thankful ;) and we love yoonkook and SIN <3

Previous | Next

Chapter 40

“About Yoongi hyung…” “I read the article. Both of them” muttered Seul as she took a seat on the cold bench. Realizing the distant in her voice, Jungkook knew she was affected by the news despite trying to hide her disappointment towards it.

Jungkook expelled a long sigh and kneeled in front of Seul interlacing her cold fingers in his. She stared at him blankly looking empty and lost, “Don’t trust what you read. Hyung is not what they said in those articles. Listen to him, only him” she recoiled, giving his hand a soft squish.

“Where is Yoongi?” her heart was heavy to even say his name out loud as though something trying to cut the strings that she had with him.

“In his studio, I haven’t seen him since lunch, but we will be having a meeting with Bang PD in an hour. Come with me please? Yoongi hyung needs you by his side” Jungkook said sweetly, persuading Seul which confused her.

“Jungkook..why are you here?” instead of responding to the initial question, it came to her realization that Jungkook’s presence was not merely due to the unexpected articles released today.

His lips broke into his usual cute smile lighten up the whole universe “To pick up my favourite girl for my favourite hyung” her bewildered gaze searching his face to see any sign of joke. “Jungkook-ah..I don’t understand” Jungkook held her hands tighter as her gaze followed the younger guy whom took a seat beside her.

“Nuna...” she froze. Her ears seemed to make a fool of her when Seul thought she heard it wrong. Jungkook was really calling her nuna, which gave her a major goosebumps.  “You should know this because I will not be able to say it again. I really..really love you. And you are a bad woman for making me fall head over heels for you when you only have your eyes on Yoongi hyung” his faint voice pained her heart.

“I will cherish every moment that we had together deeply in my heart..”

“Jungkook-ie..I..am-“ “Don’t be sorry, it makes me feel awful” he chuckled bitterly. Jungkook enveloped his arms around her shoulder, pulling the girl into a tight embrace. “Thank you for giving me a chance to feel the real love. I want you to know, that I never regret it. This feeling is wonderful, you make me feel good and oddly bad sometimes. I want to keep you close to my heart as a friend. Good friend. Letting go my feeling doesn’t mean giving up, but rather accepting that there are things that cannot be. Us, it is impossible” he finally set a clear line between them. A friend.

Seul was losing her words, and she tried hard not to stammer in between “Ho..w did you find out?”

He shook his head as a small chuckle escaped from his lips “I am a man, nuna. I told you many times before. Trust me when I said a man can read another man’s mind because that is our forte” Seul pursed her lips in confusion.

“I can see it through your eyes, you care for me, but you love hyung. Well, I can say that you’re almost swooned by my action however you couldn’t hide your true feelings. Don’t you realize that?” he continued “That you love Yoongi hyung?”

Did she?

“But- how are you so sure when I am still confused of myself”

“Conform with yourself. Ask your heart, who is inside? Whether it is me or Yoongi hyung…or is it Jin hyung” she gawked in sheer fear. Did he just read her mind? How was it possible for him to bring up Jin in this situation?

He smirked “Surprised? Jin hyung may not know this, but I caught him talking to you one day. So I conclude that, hyung has feelings for you”

“Impossible. He never arises this issue”

“Of course, he won’t, Kim Seokjin that I know always put others above his own happiness. That includes his feelings for you. I thought if hyung can do that, then why not me? Jin hyung is a man with big heart, as soon as he realized our feelings for you, he backed away without uttering any words. His perseverance is something that I admired” again his words hit her hard making her ten times guiltier than before.

If Jin has feelings for her, why didn’t she notice the obvious? Get a grip Ji Seul, you need stop toying innocent’s hearts.

“I am a bad person for playing with your heart. You guys didn’t deserve this”

“Then make up your mind, it has always been Yoongi hyung and you know it” he stroked the strand of her hair from covering her face. “We will be happy if you could make hyung happy” his heart felt lighter now that he had talked to Seul, Jungkook was no longer living under the shadows.

Seul smiled meekly “Can we stay as friend? I don’t want to lose you or anyone. This decision that I am about to make, I am afraid if it cost me to lose this precious friendship” her voice was low and desperate. The only reason why she hadn’t come up with any decision to end this confusion was her fear of losing the boys. She didn’t to take a wrong step and ruined everything that they had.

Falling in love is subjective. You can’t really tell when it begins or how to stop it. It is not like she invited these boys to love her more than just a friend, the feelings develop over time and it is something that you can’t stop even if you wish to.

“Yah, of course we are still friends. I am keeping my words to keep you safe even you’re with Yoongi hyung” he tapped the tip of her nose with a small chuckle.

“Don’t you hate me? After what I did?”

“And what exactly did you do for me to despise you? Seul, I am serious about giving up for Yoongi hyung. Do not overthink because I won’t let you” she scrunched her nose, tilting her head at his direction.

She teased, “So it is Seul now? Where is the nuna?” Jungkook cringed hard at the thought of living his life calling her with honorific.

“You are so not making me call you nuna because that sounds cringey” they chuckled at their own silliness, it took over the awkwardness that she felt earlier at least.

“Are you coming with me to the company?”

“Can I not come? I mean- Jungkook in all honesty I trust Yoongi but I need some time alone to get my head together. I promise to check on him tomorrow. Plus, I don’t think my presence there will be helpful. You guys already have enough problems to face, it is better for me to not be there” she chewed her lower lips afraid that Jungkook might misunderstand her request.

The latter nodded in understanding, “You are right. Let us talk to Bang PD first and see the seriousness of this issue. I will let you know how it goes” he smiled.

“Thank you. Please look after Yoongi, he is..you know what I mean” her confidence deflated as the memories of Suga’s struggle resurfaced. She could hold it for a night, just few hours. Seul would meet him the first thing in the morning.

“We will keep our eyes on hyung. Don’t worry. Do you want me to walk you home?”

She shook her head “No thank you. I can take cabs. Just go, you don’t want to miss the important meeting and get in trouble” Seul reached out to stroke his bangs and smiled genuinely. Jungkook pulled the girl into a final hug before bidding his farewell, heading straight to the headquarter in hurry.

 ------------------

The talk with Bang PD and the rest of the team went for hours. They had come up with a solution after hearing Yoongi’s side of story. The false accusation made by the irresponsible individual will be addressed officially in court considering this matter jeopardized both BTS and Yoongi image. Big Hit had zero tolerance pertaining to this issue and would file a lawsuit against the individual who started this rumour.

For the time being any solo and group activities involving Yoongi would be put at halt to give him a space to breathe from medias. The only activities that he would take part in the future was BTS upcoming activities in America followed by their American Music Awards performance in a month. Big Hit had replaced Yoongi with other members to fulfil the request from reality shows that already being scheduled for him few months ago.

Entering Suga’s Genius Lab stealthily was Jin, the dark room was ignited by a small table lamp at the corner causing Jin to wonder if Yoongi was already asleep. Ever since the article made it to public yesterday, Yoongi didn’t talk much worrying the eldest guy.

“Yoong, are you asleep?” he sat on his favourite swivel chair facing Yoongi’s small body on the couch.

His soft hummed could be heard clearly, as the distressed guy sat up expelling a deep sigh. “Are you okay?” concerned Jin made sure to scrutinize his serious expression.

“Is this about Seul?”

“Why are you bringing her up?” he snapped.

Jin smug in victory “So, this is about Seul. Are you worried that she might misunderstand this and decide to leave you? And choose Jungkook-ie?” Yoongi rubbed his back hair in frustration.

“She is a big girl, I don’t care who she chose. In the end, I will never win over Jungkook” his heart stung by his own words though he really hoped to see Seul tonight. It was impossible, no one would want to stay with an unfaithful guy like him. In the eyes of public, he is just a mere pest who toyed with girls’ heart.

“You must talk to her before making your own judgement” he eyed the younger guy, crossing his arms in disapproval.

Yoongi clucked his tongue irritably “A call from her would suffice but not even a single text, I know this is not going to work. Seul-“ “Seul is not calling you not because she is giving up on you. You should have known her better, she is a complicated young lady but she would never leave you hanging without answers” Jin rose his brows in amusement.

“Aren’t you happy? That this is happening to me now you have chance to be with Seul” his brows were pinched together, mentally cursing this ill fate of his.

Jin pressed his lips firmly, and looked at him wide-eyed, questioningly. “You think I will be that shallow? Yes, I like Seul. Do you have problem with that? But I have set a fine line between me and her. She is off limit because she likes you” he shook his head.

“She is free to like anyone. She could be yours, or Jungkook’s, don’t lose hope” Yoongi responded sarcastically earning a dissatisfied growl from the older guy.

“Her feeling is not something you can toss around like your damn basketball game, I know you are salty because she is not here with you. Trust me, I have no intention to pursue her. I know who is in her heart. Unlike a foolish guy like you, speak as if you have no brain” he threw daggers at his way.

“Are you trying to pick a fight? Because I am not in the mood hyung”

“Right, you are not in the mood for everything. Your heart is consumed with jealousy. Min Yoongi, tell me one more time that you don’t care about her because I won’t hesitate to give her a call and ask her out for a date” he challenged the grumpy guy with confidence knowing how it would affect him. Yoongi was too deep in love to back down now, he was just being a brat. Literally complaining about the unfair treatment that he received from his dear dream girl.

Yoongi scowled “Don’t you dare! She is off limit!”

“Then prove to me that she is off limit and you will take good care of her, think like a sane man with class, seriously. Min Yoongi stop being a brat, I know you love her and you do realize that I still can win her heart if I want to. That is if you give up” Jin once again provoked Yoongi causing the latter to rake his hair with his hands out of anger.

Regardless, what came from Jin, the rapper really took it seriously as if his life was at the brink of death.

Yoongi said glaring at his hyung “Are you here to help or to provoke me? Can you just leave hyung? I need my peaceful sleep” he leaned back letting a soft huff. A mouth fight with Jin never ended up well since he would lose most of the time. It was the truth, only Kim Seokjin could tame Min Yoongi.

Jin switched his seat and within a second, he was sitting beside Yoongi, smiling bashfully. “Can you promise me that you will look after Seul?” bewildered, a visible line was evident on his forehead trying to digest Jin’s request.

“You are acting odd. Stop scaring me”

“Min Suga, I am not asking you as a BTS Jin, but as your brother, good friend and your roommate, Kim Seokjin. I care for Seul, and I want to see her happy. I know you can put that beautiful smile on her face. Her smile is the brightest when you are around…” a smile found its way to his lips, washing away his sadness for not be able to win Seul’s heart.

“It is weird, how are you fine with this? Hyung, you are about to give up a girl that you like for me. Are you really sure about your feelings?”

He nodded and scrunched up his face determinedly “Love doesn’t mean making someone yours, it means being happy in the happiness of the one we love. I love you and Seul-ie, and it wont change. Love her with all your heart Yoong, I believe you can make her happy”

Yoongi took a deep breath, fidgeting with his fingers until he finally said “I can’t believe you are giving me a blessing for this relationship when you are not even Seul’s mother” Jin laughed softly.

“Can’t i? I am still the oldest one in the group” he jabbed his arm playfully. Yoongi blurted out a quick thank you silencing the playful man almost instantly. He heard him continued “Thank you for always believing in me. You will find a woman that loves you as much as you love Seul one day” Yoongi’s gummy smile illuminates the dark room, warming his heart in process.

Being Jin, he would not respond to Yoongi seriousness whenever the guy had put much effort to force it out from his mouth. “One day if I find Seul crying because of you, she will be the woman as you mention in your prayers” he messed around, to make fun of Yoongi.

He snickered as his eyes rolled in annoyance “You wish..”

 ---------------

The following day, Seul came to the company as promised. She told the boys’ head manager about her intention to meet Yoongi especially when she found out from Jin that he stayed out for the night in his studio. He’s going to work his ass off to distract himself from thinking about those news circulated around the internet.  

The counter measure will be taken by the management team. Yoongi insisted to release an apology letter in relation to this rumour especially the claim by Stephanie. Bang PD decided to release an official statement on behalf of Yoongi because the rapper had nothing to explain to the public.

The rumours were false and Yoongi on the other hand owed nothing to anyone. He didn’t do it so why must he feeling guilty over the fake news?

Walking down the empty hall, Seul graceful steps made it to the other wings of the building. Hoseok and Namjoon strode towards her with a wide grin “Good morning. Seul, you came! Are you here for Yoongi hyung?” Namjoon said in his low morning voice.

“Good morning Hobi, Joonie. I am here for Yoongi, is he around?”

Hoseok wiggled his brows unknowingly “He is inside his studio. He didn’t come out since our meeting with Bang PD, maybe you can get him out?” he passed a piece of small pink notes. Blinking in confusion, she scanned the paper of what seems to be a password to Yoongi’s door.

The corner of her lips tugged into an amused smile “You come prepared. Thank you”

“No problem. Good luck” he pumped his fist exaggerating the battle as if she was off for an important combat. Namjoon winked at her way, mouthing her a ‘Hwaiting’ pressuring the lady even more.

 ------------

“160815” she mumbled whilst her fingers pressing the passcode carefully not to make any sound. The door to his studio beeped open excite the latter, and she grew nervous again to meet the man beyond the door.

“Here we go” Seul slid inside with zero noise, as she closed the door behind her awfully slow.

“Stop sneaking around like a thief” his low voice made her jump in her stance. She mentally blamed herself for her own clumsiness, now Yoongi would think weirdly of her. How uncool.

She turned her heels to face the owner of the voice, she frowned deeply digesting the image before her. As though the scene repeated itself, she glanced at the unlit cigarette between his thick fingers. This guy just wouldn’t listen, didn’t he?

“What do you want” he moved one of his free hand to write something on his music sheet. Yoongi didn’t even bother to turn around as he continued to work something on his keyboard when it was obvious his concentration was long gone ever since Seul’s sweet scent took over the strong lemon scented geranium across the room.

“I want you” she said sternly and grabbed the cigarette from his hand, dumping it inside the nearest bin.

“Yah Ji Seul, that cost me 10,000 won!”

“I believe your health costs more than that” Seul ignored Yoongi hard gaze as she went to take something from her pocket. She pulled a strawberry lollipop out and unwrapped the lollipop. Confused by her actions, Yoongi watched how the girl had successfully shoved the sweet candy inside his mouth.

Satisfied with her art, her lips broke into an adorable smile “That is better, from now on keep at least one lollipop with you. Stop smoking” he stared at her bemusedly. Pulling the lollipop out, “Said that you want me again” he jeered playfully.

“In your dreams, I am here to check on you not to flirt. How are you feeling?” she leaned against the wall beside the keyboard unbothered by Yoongi early tease.

Pursing his lips into a small pout, he bit the inside of his cheek. “I couldn’t sleep whole night, so I stayed up and write lyrics” she gasped.

Seul took his cheeks in her tiny hands and started to examine his face as if not sleeping whole night caused a serious injury to his handsome face. Alright maybe the only injury were the hideous eyebags. Yoongi still appeared good even with an obvious eyebags hanging for their life there.

He was enjoying how her fingertips moved along his skin, and he closed his eyes to devour every second of it. “Hmm…Are you done?” Yoongi held back his chuckle, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

Noticing the playful smile on his face, Seul pinched his nose hard until he swatted her hand not be able to withstand the pain “What is that for?! You mean woman!” he rubbed his red nose in protest.

“So you will stop goofing around. Why didn’t you sleep Yoong?” she looked concerned and hurt by the fact that this man neglected his supposed to be rest time just like that. Seul leaned down to leave a soft kiss at the tip of his nose and their closeness literally took his breath away.

Yoongi took the chance to pull the girl on his lap “Do that again..” he nuzzled his nose against her soft cheeks.

She giggled “I thought you are sulking” “Not anymore, when I have you by my side” he pressed his forehead against her, rubbing their nose together earning a soft giggle from the shy lady.

“Seul-ah, I am sorry about the articles. I swear it wasn’t me, I..have no idea why they are-“ Seul pecked his lips quickly. “I trust my Yoongi. You don’t owe me any explanation or apology” Yoongi tilted his head in bewilderment.

Carefully angling her head to the side, Seul leaned forward stealing a tender, chaste kiss on his lips surprising the man once again.  Seul didn’t pull away literally as she let her lips brushed against his “This is your long-awaited answer” giving him no time to react, their lips locked again this time in a deeper kiss.

They were burned with blazing passion. The kisses were quick and enough to give an obvious hint to the clueless guy. They pulled away breathless.

“Wow, i..didnt expect you to answer me that way”

Seul turned fifty shades redder “I..wanted to show you a different side of me and as a girlfriend, I will stick through thick and thin with you. No matter what happen, I will always be here for you” she assured daringly.

“Girlfriend. I can finally call you my girlfriend?” he stroked her soft hair.

“I love you Min Yoongi” she professed her love earnestly.

Yoongi couldn’t stop grinning like a fool ever since she heard those three magical words came from her. It felt too good to be true. “Say that again” he kissed the corner of her lips, caressing her jaws softly.

“I love you Min Yoongi” her breath hitched feeling the excitement from the simple confessions.

He stole away for a chaste kiss on the lips, “I love you Seul” he murmured against her lips causing her to smile from ear to ear. His voice alone could make her ten times happier than she already is.

“I want you to sleep, stop working” she closed the music sheet, tugging his hand towards the couch. Seul sat him down on the couch, “Lay down and shut your eyes for an hour, please?” he raised one of his brows in amusement.

“Sleep with me?”

“No way, I will watch you sleep instead. So, please baby sleep?” Seul stroked his bangs, trailing her finger ear his eyes.

He looked up meeting her gaze and inhaled a sharp breath “Today is the best day ever. I can hear the I love you and you claimed that I am yours. Now you are calling me baby” he planted a soft kiss on her knuckles, grazing it softly with his thumbs.

Seul softened in his hold “As much as I want to hear your sweet raspy voice, I want you to sleep please baby” she giggled at the nickname, flattering Yoongi’s heart. He positioned himself and laid his head on her lap.

“Watch me sleep, don’t leave” she ran her fingers in his blonde lock, caressing it lovingly. He began to feel drowsy and curled up in fetal position to finally doze off not long after that. Seul smiled inwardly watching how the rapper turned into an adorable kid in his sleep.

She touched his cheek gingerly, admiring Yoongi’s soft feature. Lowering her head, she kissed his eyes gently, just a small, butterfly kiss.

“Sweet dream” Seul leaned back on the couch relaxing and her eyes grew heavy from the weight of sleep that took over her. Settling in to a new chapter in life, she is ready to write the new page with Yoongi.

  This work belongs to  Chimswae © 2021. All Rights Reserved

[feelinkeeli]

Work in Progress Wednesday - March 31st

A minor update concerning All My Tomorrows (and Yesterday's Sorrows) aka the Cal/Jango fic: still working on this one. It's delayed because I realized I need to break the Galidraan "arc" into two parts (mostly PoV switch issues making things messy) but that meant part one would leave off in a place I wasn't comfortable leaving things, for any amount of time. So when I do update that WIP it will be a double update but that means more work and time to get there when RL is simultaneously demanding more of my time as well. (And I am occasionally poking at other WIPs like the jangobi role reversal AU snippet below). So yeah, double-update! Eventually.

Now for today's snippet:

Stewjoni was a small world in the Outer Rim in the middle of nowhere. It was quite literally about halfway between the two hyperlanes that made inroads into the sector. A resource poor world for all its vast oceans; their most valuable export was wool. A perfect target for pirates and slavers to attempt to conquer and use as a base. 

If not for the fact that every citizen of Stewjon was trained from early childhood in the art of war. They had to do it. No one would come to their rescue, not in a time span that would help them. Stewjoni knew how to defend their homes.

Which was a rather long-winded way of saying when Obi-wan crashed with his parents on Melida/Daan, he was already a skilled strategist and tactician at age fourteen. His parents hadn't survived the crash but the cargo they'd been transporting had. It was luck that the Young found the crash site first and earned Obi-wan's trust. Obi-wan helped them win the war in return.

(Obi-wan barely gave any thought to the Jedi Master that abandoned them to save his companion. Stewjoni knew you couldn't rely on outsiders to help you. Obi-wan made his choice to embrace a new identity as Melidaan when he chose to remain on the war-torn planet and aid the Young.)

It was child's play to defeat the Elders but, it was trying to hold onto their victory that almost cost them Cerasi. Thankfully an event that could have broken the bond the three of them had forged only strengthened it. 

They fell into roles easily enough. Neild was their leader, Cerasi their diplomat, and Obi-wan their general. A necessary evil neither Nield or Cerasi liked until those looking to take advantage of them arrived. That's how things worked for the the next five years until their term limits were reached. Cerasi and Neild easily transitioned to advisory roles but Obi-wan decided to head off planet and explore the galaxy.

Becoming a bounty hunter seemed the logical career choice for him even if it confused others. Like becoming a bounty hunter was somehow lesser than being a general rather than freeing. Thought there was a bit more of a learning curve to bounty hunting than Obi-wan had anticipated. He was close to quitting and switching to mercenary work when Silas decided to mentor him.

[thecostofvictoryau]

Because of the previously mentioned computer reset, I will be changing to a limited palette to get chapter one out faster. Sorry!

Honestly? Leaning toward the last one. Love character details, hate backgrounds

[2460nodone]

Hell is a Relative Term (1/2)

Title: Hell is a Relative Term  Category: Plays/Musicals » Les Misérables Author: AliceInSomewhereland Language: English, Rating: Rated: T Genre: Supernatural/Romance Published: 05-21-13, Updated: 05-22-13 Chapters: 2, Words: 9,662

[Part I] [Part II]

Summary: Eponine is one of the few who stand between humanity and hell, sworn to fight evil and protect the helpless, even if it costs her her own life. Vampire slayer!Eponine. e/e. Rated for language/content

Original author’s note: Ok guys, here we go with fic #2 for the Fic War on tumblr! This one was a prompt from tumblr user poeticbibliophile: "Modern AU prompt? One line for you, m'amie — 'Are you afraid of the good you can do?' from Les Miz, V. Hugo. Tag me if you chose this. TY!"

Part I

What if I told you the stories were true?

What if you knew that there really are things that go bump in the night? Things that live under your bed and in your closet just as much as they live in your mind, things that stalk you in the dark and prey on your terror? That all the monsters your parents ever promised you were pretend exist? That sometimes, people die, evil wins, and that the light cannot always banish your fears?

*

The world was hell.

There was no other way to put it.

No one really knew why these creatures existed, but they did. They ruled the night, mauling and feasting and terrorizing the population all the world over. It had always been this way; God had long ago forsaken the world and its inhabitants. Hell had swallowed Earth, and its demons walked with sorry humanity.

But there were people to fight it. Men and women, chosen for their strength, their character, their skill. They were given tasks, they learned the weaknesses of the different creatures, and eventually specialized in one specific type of Hellbeast.

*

"Eponine!" a voice shouted.

A young woman, olive-skinned, brown-eyed and dark-haired, stopped short, closing her eyes in trepidation before slowly turning.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," the man said sternly. He was middle-aged, with a close-cropped, graying haircut and a beard that matched. "I want you to patrol tonight."

The girl, Eponine, clenched her jaw. "I promised my brother I would be home tonight. He needs me. You have Musichetta, send her instead."

"Don't question me," he scolded. "I'm sending you."

When Eponine opened her mouth to protest, the man cut her off. "You are a vampire slayer, Jondrette. This is your job. This is your duty. You were chosen to protect the people of the world, and you will patrol tonight."

"One of those people I have to protect is my brother, Javert," she snapped. She loved the man, but he so frequently forgot that she was one of the rare slayers who had people at home to take care of. She had yet to lose everything, and she planned on keeping it that way. "I have a duty to him, too. And I promised him I would be there tonight. Send Musichetta instead."

Without waiting for his response, Eponine turned on her heel. She knew that Javert would probably punish her later for her insubordination, but she didn't care. Gavroche needed her.

*

Eponine was a vampire slayer. One of few slayers, in fact. Most of the women who became slayers died young.

It was not a fate she coveted.

In fact, she hated everything this life. But she had been chosen, as Javert constantly reminded her, by a power bigger than herself. And since he was her Guardian – the Guardian of all the slayers in this quadrant – and essentially her boss, it was he she answered to.

She was on the train, headed home to her brother. The dark world rushed by her, and she wondered how many vampires were out and active tonight.

She hated them with a burning passion. When they Turned, they kept their souls, but the bloodlust was so intense that they rarely heeded what little remained of their consciences. Eventually, most lost themselves in the Hunger or went insane from the guilt of what they did when their urges were unbearable. Most that she had met, however, loved killing. She had yet to meet a truly guilty vampire.

True to legend, they could not be in sunlight, and a stake to the heart or a clean swipe of the head from the shoulders would kill them immediately. Crosses, churches, hallowed ground – all unbearable to them. They couldn't even speak the name of God; that's how damned they were. They were vicious, evil creatures, and she wanted nothing more than to kill them all.

She hated being a killer, but she loved the fight, loved the moment when they lost. She would watch them victoriously, almost arrogantly, as they died in front of her. It gave her a rush, and afterwards, she would run through the streets, high on adrenaline, hungry and horny and happy.

She would find Montparnasse when she could, but otherwise she would grab a burger and indulge at least one of her urges until the high wore off and the real world crashed down on her again.

*

Several weeks later found Eponine back on patrol and deep in the throes of combat with a vampire. She could almost taste her victory when she felt, rather than saw, the presence of more of the loathsome bloodsuckers.

Panic bubbled up in her; she faltered and was knocked to the ground. She could feel blood trickling down from her brow, and her opponent, standing above her now, bared his teeth menacingly. She was surrounded

"Good job, little 'un," a grating woman's voice cooed.

Eponine felt her insides go cold. From her place on the ground, she stared up into the eyes of her mother.

She had hated her parents when they were alive, and had not been surprised when the police showed up one night, delivering the news of their deaths. She was, however, surprised when she saw them months later, their faces twisted as they sucked a woman dry.

But that was years ago, well before she was a slayer.

"Hello little Eponine," the creature that was once her mother sang.

Eponine pounced, fighting like a madwoman. But she was outnumbered; she only managed to slay the original vampire she was battling before she was repeatedly beat down… by her mother and her father and the rest of their gang.

Her father wrenched her head back by her hair, exposing her neck. This is it, she thought, fighting against those who were pinning her to the ground. I'm about to become another dead slayer.

The vampire broke her skin with his teeth, followed on the other side by her mother, and Eponine heard herself cry out. It all seemed to be happening from somewhere else; she knew and understood that she was dying, but she couldn't feel it, barely noticed it. Heaviness spread through her body, and her eyes began to get heavy.

Just before they closed, she became aware of a movement to her left. Her mother was ripped away from her neck.

Then everything went black.

*

When Eponine woke, she felt like she had been out drinking all night. Her body was heavy, her head was pounding, and she felt sick.

When her eyes adjusted to the daylight seeping in through a crack in the curtains, she looked around – turning her head slowly so as to prevent the exaggeration of her nausea and headache.

The room was simple, bare. There was some framed art on the gray walls, though her eyes were too weak to make out the pictures. A small flatscreen TV was on a small bookshelf that was packed with more books than DVDs, and even more books were piled on the dresser near the bed, as well as on the nightstand next to her. Those, she could make out: The World According to Garp, an anthology of the works of Sartre, Catch-22.

The bedspread was red, the sheets were white. Thick, black curtains were pulled together, though a ray of bright sunlight streamed through a crack.

Where was she?

Eponine wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she was several pages into The World According to Garp (whoever lived here had great taste in literature – this was one of her favorite books) before a gentle knock rapped on the door and it opened.

A man stepped in. Tall, curly blonde hair, casually dressed in dark jeans, a white v-neck t-shirt (that gave her a peek of just a little hair on his chest below a defined collarbone), and a black jacket. He was like a marble statue come to life. His eyes, she noticed, were impossibly blue, and his face was achingly handsome. A small bit of stubble covered his jaw and the top of his neck. She had no idea whatsoever who he was.

"How are you feeling?" the man asked. Eponine, in spite of herself and the weirdness of the situation, found that she liked his voice.

Instead of answering – Eponine hated answering direct questions, especially when she didn't know the inquirer – she countered, "Who the hell are you, and how did I get here?"

The man perched himself on the edge of the bed, purposefully staying as far from her as he could. Still, he smirked at her. "I saved your life last night, Slayer. You were outnumbered by the Thénardier Coven, and they would have killed you."

Eponine glared at him. "They took me by surprise," she grumbled. Then, "How did you know I'm a slayer?"

The man snorted. "You slayers wear your rank like a badge of honor. It's impossible not to know."

Eponine actually felt a little affronted, even though he had answered the question lightly.

He shrugged, apparently aware of the insult, and added, "Plus I was watching you."

"What?" she asked, dumfounded and staring at him.

The man grinned again. "I was following the Thénardier Coven, and so were you. You fell for their bait, you know. They were planning to ambush you. You should be more careful," he admonished.

Eponine raised her chin indignantly, but said nothing.

"Yeah, you would've died if it weren't for me," he continued.

He was actually fishing for a thank you. She couldn't believe it.

"Slayers are only women," she pointed out, ignoring his comment.

He ignored hers as well. "You're sleeping in my bed, you know. I saved your life, brought you back here at my own personal risk, nursed your wounds. A 'thank you' wouldn't be unwelcome," he said pointedly. It angered her that he seemed to find all of this so humorous.

She sniffed, realizing that he wouldn't talk about anything else unless she voiced her gratitude. "Thank you," she said tightly.

He smiled. Dear god that was a beautiful smile. "Why, you're welcome," he deadpanned.

"Now, who are you? Where am I?" she asked impatiently.

The man frowned. "You may stay as long as you need. At least, until you are well enough to make it home. Get some rest, and I'll bring you some food. You need your strength," he said, ignoring her questions. He stood, reaching the door in two short strides.

"Why won't you answer me?" she asked, before he could take his leave.

He stopped, hand on the doorknob, the door partially open. Then he shrugged, turning back towards her and seriously replying, "This is the last time you'll ever see me, so it doesn't matter." Then he was gone.

*

Montparnasse was a vampire.

What was worse, he now belonged to the Thénardier Coven. They were the most violent of the covens in this part of the world, and the most deadly. But also one of the biggest.

Javert had lost many a slayer trying to eradicate their ranks, their power.

Eponine was determined not to become one of them. Especially since she was the human daughter of the clan leaders.

But Montparnasse had been her last friend from her old life. He was in love with her, as a human, but he knew she was uninterested in him, even before she had become a slayer. Still, he had let her use him (not that he didn't console himself with some on the side, anyway – he was no virtuous man).

She felt guilty about how she had treated him now, though. He hadn't deserved to be used for sex. He was a good looking guy, and could've found someone who might have loved him back, even if he had some issues with alcohol and was kind of a klepto.

Eponine found that she was crying as she drove the stake into his heart. She hadn't noticed during their fight, as she was far too entranced by their dance to the death. But she would not lose.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him as he died.

This time, she felt neither hungry nor happy, and definitely was not horny.

It was Montparnasse that she had gone to for that reason. And here she was, responsible for his death, in so many more ways than just this one.

When she looked up, tears flowing freely from her eyes, she thought she saw a flash of blue eyes and blonde hair disappearing into the shadows, but she couldn't be sure.

*

Marius, Azelma, and Gavroche were the only good things in her life anymore.

She had met Marius not long after becoming a slayer, and had fallen in love with him almost immediately. Sometimes when she had gone to Montparnasse, it was because she wanted Marius, and she could close her eyes with the other man and pretend that he loved her too.

The thought caused a wave of guilt to flow through her body. The hurt of Montparnasse's death (by her hand) was still very close.

Marius was kind to her, though. He was a sweetheart, always stopping to chat and inquire after her and her sister and brother, always ensuring that she was uninjured and being safe on her patrols.

She hoped that he might someday fall for her too. Eponine felt less damaged and depressed and hopeless around him. Perhaps he would even be willing to put up with the uncertainty of her life, her future, for a few passionate years by her side.

But one evening he ran up to her, more excited and worked up than she had ever before seen him.

"'Ponine! Oh, 'Ponine, I've fallen in love," he told her dreamily, taking her hands in his and spinning her gaily.

For a fleeting moment, Eponine thought her meant her.

"She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Her hair is long and so blonde, her eyes are beautiful, and my god she probably has a wonderful soul to match."

Eponine gave him a strained smile.

"Can you find her for me, 'Ponine? You know your way around, and you're good at finding people."

Before she could stop herself, Eponine heard herself agreeing to help him.

*

She found the blonde beauty, all right.

Her name was Cosette.

She was the daughter of Jean Valjean.

Jean Valjean was the patriarch of the Fauchelevent Coven.

That idiot Marius had gone and fallen for a vampire.

Jealousy and contempt bubbled up inside of Eponine. She didn't know what to do with herself. Or with Marius. And when she had told him what she had learned, he had dismissed it.

"Not all vampires are bad, 'Ponine," he insisted. Eponine wanted to punch him for his stupidity. He might as well have been suggesting that he take a leisurely swim in the ocean in the middle of a hurricane. "She's a good one, I just know it. Besides, the Fauchelevent Coven has always been fairly peaceful. They don't attack humans, not like the Thénardier Coven or the Tholomyes Coven or the others."

Eponine stormed out, going on a hunt.

She would kill something tonight. She could only hope that it was a vampire, not that idiot, love struck boy she had left in the bar.

A few hours later, Eponine was on her third kill (she had been on the offensive tonight, though it wasn't strictly protocol to hunt alone and without a secure plan that Javert knew).

That's when she saw him.

When the vampire woman was dead, Eponine spun on her heal, flicking her sweaty hair out of her eyes.

"Why are you following me?" she demanded.

The blonde man regarded her seriously. "You seem angrier tonight than usual."

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you stalking me?"

He gave this some consideration, before replying, "More like ensuring that you don't get yourself into any sticky situations again."

She took an involuntary step closer. His eyes were so blue. "Why?"

He shrugged. "You're not like the other slayers."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

He thought for a moment. "They're all driven by something. You just go through the motions, but you're so talented. What's keeping you from rising to your full potential? You could be the best slayer alive, if you wanted. You could eradicate the entire Bloodluster population if only you tried."

Eponine regarded him incredulously. "I don't even know you, I'm not talking to you about my reasons for slaying!"

He was watching her closely, looking for something in his face. "Are you afraid of the good you can do?"

Her face darkened. "Look, bro, my reasons for slaying are my own, and are certainly none of your business. And, I will have you know, I'm not afraid of anything."

"Whatever you say," he scoffed.

Eponine shoved him back angrily; he grinned, lazily taking a step back to keep his balance. It only pissed her off more.

"You're intriguing, little slayer," he said, quirking a half-smile at her.

Without missing a beat, she replied, "And you're an annoying jackass, mystery asshole."

He laughed at that.

*

Eponine still did not know his name, but she began to enjoy his somewhat constant presence when she patrolled. Somehow, he always seemed to pop up in time to see her fight, and ended up staying with her until her patrol was finished just before dawn. Then they would go their separate ways.

"Don't you ever sleep?" she asked as they walked slowly together through the empty streets. No one was ever out at this time of night except for the slayers or the occasional other fighter. She often wondered what his specialty was.

"Don't you?" he countered.

Somehow he always kept things balanced between them. She wasn't sure whether he answered her questions with questions of his own because that's what she did or because he wanted to maintain a certain balance between them. She was fine with boundaries, but the more time she spent with him, the more curious she became. She liked this marble man, this beautiful boy that seemed to gleam with the light of the sun even at night. She wanted to be his friend. She enjoyed hearing about his true friends, the ones that knew him as more than the Marble Man, and she found relief in telling him about her own fucked up life.

Rather than taunting her by knowing her name (which she had never actually told him) while she did not know his, he mostly referred to her as "Slayer" or "Little Slayer." She couldn't decide whether the whole thing was creepy and whether or not she liked his nicknames, nor could she decide if, when he did call her by her name, the shiver that went down her spine was because it sounded so foreign on his tongue or if it was because she liked hearing her name on his lips.

They had become friends, somehow. She wasn't sure what exactly had happened, but she truly did appreciate that he had saved her life, and he hadn't left her alone since, for whatever reason, and she had grown to like his company.

He was driven. He talked a lot about his dreams of helping the people, saving them from these circumstances, finding a way to eradicate the violent covens and hopefully rehabilitate the rest.

Eponine was less in favor of rehabilitation, but her Marble Man insisted that not all covens were violent like Thénardier. He told her frequently that she was blinded by her hate for her parents and what they had become. When he said this, she told him to fuck off and mind his business, usually storming off and leaving him behind. And he usually let her go.

It irritated her to no end that he knew her so well – seemingly without even trying – when she knew nothing about him. Was she that easy to read? He always seemed to guess her emotions – which she had spent so many years learning to hide – without any effort at all. He was always telling her about her potential, about how her circumstances could improve if she only tried a bit harder. He knew her name, he knew her story, but she knew nothing about him. Not even his name.

So one night, she asked him. They had been friends now for a few months. He had watched her fight, had even stepped in a few times when she got a little too close to death for his comfort (though she loved the rush that just escaping death gave her).

"What's your name? You know so much about me, but I know nothing about you."

He was silent for a long moment, and Eponine was fully expecting him to change the subject or stay quiet until she felt humiliated enough by her prying to change it herself, just as he always did. But tonight:

"I'm Enjolras," he told her quietly.

She froze in shock, unable to keep walking. He had actually told her. Her Marble Man had a name, and he had finally given it to her.

After a tense moment, in which she stared at him with an unattractively open mouth and he stared back with trepidation and dark eyes, he stepped up to her. She couldn't read his face as he searched hers, slipping his hand into her own.

Eponine wasn't sure what he found in her face, but he must have been satisfied because he was suddenly turning away, tugging on her hand to pull her with him so they could resume their walk.

But she didn't move. Instead, she tested his name, whispering it into the slight wind. "Enjolras…."

He immediately turned when she said his name, cupping the side of her face with his hands and bringing his lips urgently to hers.

Eponine was waiting for him; her lips parted almost immediately against his, her arms wrapped around his neck, and she pressed herself into him just as he pulled her closer with his free arm.

Enjolras deepened the kiss, meeting the tongue that had only moments ago held his name so tenderly. She shivered as his hand traveled down her rocky spine to rest at the slight valley that had formed at the small of her back.

He kissed her passionately, and she rose to meet the challenge, just as she did with her slaying. His kisses moved from her lips to her jaw, to her neck, to her collarbone. His hand preceded the actions of his lips, tracing their route before he made it. Now, his fingertips traveled down her chest, lips following as he unzipped the jacket she was wearing to reveal her cleavage.

Her hands were entwined in his hair and god she had forgotten how good this felt, and his fingertips and lips and tongue had just reached the top of her breasts when he cried out in pain, leaping away from her.

Eponine stared as a bit of smoke rose from his fingers, as though he had been on fire. He was staring at her with a torn, almost heartbroken, and pained expression.

She knew that she was staring back in horror. Her hand found the pendant buried in her cleavage – a silver cross. It was meant to protect her from her foe.

Anger like she had never before felt suddenly overtook her and she wanted nothing more than to kill him where he stood.

He just continued to stare.

"You're a fucking vampire!" she screamed at him. She could hear the hurt and anger and fear in her voice. What had she done?

"Eponine–."

"No!" she snapped, cutting him off. The way he had implored her with her name – without even needing to say anything else – had twisted her heart in her chest. "If you ever fucking come near me again I will stake you through the heart, and cut your head off, and cause you a lot of fucking pain as I do it!"

Enjolras listened to her scream, holding his burned hand in the palm of his uninjured one. Staring at her with almost heartbroken eyes.

Then he was gone.

[astranne]

FanFiction.net MASTERLIST

Here are the FanFiction I’ve read on FanFiction.net. Hope you’ll enjoy!

For each recommendation I’ve linked the story to the title and wrote/copied a little summary. Please remember that many stories are rated M or E, if not stronger. Read on your own risk!

justhugefangirl’s masterlist

fanfiction recommendation masterlist

Love’s Labour Found  by Peanutbuttertoast1

The War may be over, but Hermione Granger's life is just starting as her true heritage is revealed. Being the Heir to the Throne of England and a real life Princess is just the beginning of Hermione's story...but how will the Wizarding World react when they learn the Golden Girl and Gryffindor Princess is really a real life Royal?

This fanfic os one of my favourites, read it already three times- I can’t. It’s perfect, okay? For me it’s perfect. 

---

A Witch in Gotham by Peanutbuttertoast1

After the Second Wizarding War, a curse rips through the Magical World, leaving devastation in its wake. Hermione Granger is tasked to find the reason, and the cure before more lives are lost. Retreating into the Muggle World to start over, Hermione finds her way to Gotham City as Mia Black, Head of the Black Foundation. Her decision to help the Batman changes her life forever.

A perfect crossover- honestly, this author is perfect. As well this story. I don’t link more of the authors work but there are some other ones which are just ... perfect.

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Mischief Managed by fringeperson

A man with black hair, green eyes and pale skin watched over a child with black hair, green eyes, pale skin, and a variant of the Elder Futhark rune Sowilo etched upon his brow.

Mischief Mastered (part of story)

---

Green Eyes and Red Hair by fringeperson

He was a practical joker with messy black hair. She was a talented woman with bright red hair. It turned out that they both had green eyes. Their daughter, when she came, was untouchable for more reasons than one. Loki-is-James, Natasha-is-Lily, Rogue-is-Fem!Harry.

I love the relationship between Loki and Natasha :)

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Love on Her Arm by Eye Greater Than Three

During a trip to Gringotts, Hyacinthe Potter discovered she met her soulmate, William Weasley. Bill/Hyacinthe. female!Harry.

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The Winter Witch by Kneazle

Hermione realized it began with a sense of Impending Doom and finished with a battle outside her tent. The deciding line between staying and helping Robb Stark, or returning to her universe, is getting harder to see the longer she's in Westeros. But it's a decision that she has to make, or it's one that will be made for her. Part 1 & Part 2 complete! Part 3 now ongoing.

This... is one of my favourites crossovers,,, the slowburn between Hermione and Robb,,, and it’s so fluff,,, I’m such a sucker for dark stories but this is just pureness and ugh-

---

Moratorium by Darkpetal16

Harry Potter could never be the hero. But, she might make a great villain. Satire. Parody. -COMPLETE- F!Harry Fem!Harry Gray!Harry.

Uhm- this is one of the darker fics I love. It’s very good written, cause of this I really don’t mind the ship fem!Harry x Tom Riddle

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A Life Twice Lifed by Nemesis13

Draco Malfoy died at the venerable age of 107, and who awaited him at the crossroads? His mother? His wife? No, it had to be his eccentric former rival, eventual best friend, and far too often partner in chaos Harry Potter. Oh, and of course he had a deal to offer Draco to live his life anew, and obviously there was a caveat to it all that he wasn't privy to, damn Potters.Fem!Draco

Ahh, Drarry. How I love this ship

---

Persephone by dulce.de.leche.go

Better to be the right hand of the devil than in his path. Better still to be the consort of Hades than a part of his collection of souls. Ten years after Voldemort has won the war, Hermione reaches a breaking point and shreds the flow of time to change her future. If she can't change the world, she will change her place in it. Extremely dark Tomione/Volmione. Warnings inside.

As already written in the summary, this fic is hella dark. So if you don’t like dark fics (especially with all the warnings mentioned in the first chapters) don’t read. I still love it tho-

---

The Muddy Princess by Colubrina

Just another Pureblood!Hermione story. A hidden adoption revealed, a brother found, a new world to figure out: "What are you hoping for?" he asked as they stood ready to do the spell. "I don't know," Hermione admitted. "You?" His knuckles were white on his wand. "A sister," he said, his voice very low, "I'm hoping for a sister."

There are more stories from this author which are just- awesome and absolutly perfect, like the next ones. Since they have over 60, I won’t link every work here. 

---

Lady of the Lake by Colubrina

Hermione and Draco team up after the war to overthrow the Order and take over wizarding Britain. They have plans and they'll get power, but the cost of victory may be higher than they expected and more than they can bear. Dark Dramione. COMPLETE

This is perfection. Nothing more to say. 

---

Dark Cherry Chapstick by Colubrina

Hermione returns for an optional 8th year after the war and Draco Malfoy, also back at Hogwarts at his mother's request, notices she's changed. A brief dip into the 'makeover' trope AND the 'goth' trope in one fic. ONE SHOT. Dramione.

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The Green Girl by Colubrina

Hermione is sorted into Slytherin; how will things play out differently when the brains of the Golden Trio has different friends? AU. Darkish Dramione. COMPLETE

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The Last Peverell by animerocker 646

Being the Master of Death made life difficult, especially when you need to save all of magical Europe from inbreeding its way to extinction. At least Death was enjoying watching his Master attempt this over and over again. Harry didn't find it nearly as entertaining. Well, tenth times the charm right? (FemHarry)

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Soft, Low, English Accent by Tsume Yuki

'God, you've got a beautiful voice.' Hariel always found it funny, that of all the things her soulmate could take note of -the messy hair, the bright green eyes, the scar- it's her voice he points out first. FemHarryxMatt

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Bless the Broken Road by Tempestas D. Uzu

Her resolve crumbled in the face of Pietro Maximoff's scruffy good looks and warm blue eyes, and she found herself falling for another person who would be doomed to die for her selfishness. (One Shot)(fem!HarryXPietro)(cannon-divergent)(full warnings inside)

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The Death of Natasha Romanoff by Philosophize

While helping to stop Stane, Natasha encounters a face she never thought she'd see again. Forced to deal with memories, decisions, and a life she thought she'd long left behind, will she survive the emotional upheaval, not to mention the rampaging, homicidal Stane? Or will she have to face her fears & transform herself, becoming once again what she once was? AU; fem!Harry; femslash

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Code Of Conduct by tlyxor1

A year after the war, Gwen Potter joins SHIELD. It's a life in the shadows, and a perpetual dance with death, but for the Witch Who Won, SHIELD - and Clint Barton - is exactly what she needs. She just doesn't know it yet. AU. Clint/Gwen. Fem!Harry. Pre-MCU. Post-Hogwarts, Post OOTP. Discontinued.

It already says it’s not finished,,, but oh well- I still liked it.

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The Almost Forgotten Marriage Contract of 1763 by worldtravellingfly

What would you do when suddenly confronted with a 200+ years old marriage contract by a teen and her lawyer? Run for the hills? Call the nice guys with the white jackets? Certainly not - agree? Well, Tony Stark always was a bit unique.

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Some Hearts by sakurademonalchemist

Robin Black was a bound witch. However, as the new Mistress of Death she was able to break free to Asgard and prepare to reap her vengeance. What she didn't count on was falling for a certain green-eyed, silver-tongued God of Mischief or being hit by Time Sand before the war restarted. Can she make her way back to Loki, or will she be stuck on Earth? FEM HARRY! YOU WERE WARNED!

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A Man of Honor by bloomsburry-dhazel

One day, Lyanna Stark discovers an unconscious man in the Wolfswood. Not knowing who he is, she takes him back to Winterfell where he is nurse back to health... Steve Rogers can't remember what happened to him, or how he ends up there, but he does remember who he is. He is Captain America, and somehow he has become Lyanna Stark's sworn shield.

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The Origin of The Black Widow by The Black Shadowx

The story of how the Black Widow became to be. detailed description of her life in the Red Room and what happened when she defected. this is my own creation so if things appear that is not in the comics thats the reason. i don't things can ever be too far stretched so excuse me if it gets weird. DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING TO DO WITH MARVEL . WRITTEN FOR ENTERTAINMENT ONLY

---

will be updated...

[erisbaek]

Stucky Fic Rec [Part Two]

Here is part two of the fic rec, as promised by today! I don’t know how many parts this will be since I am constantly reading new fics, and adding them. Every fic added to this rec I have read, and would recommend, therefore they are my personal preference (meaning typically longer than 10k, and very few - if any - shrinkyclinks and ABO) Same as last time, I will provide the Google Doc link where I update the rec regularly, but if you’d prefer it formatted here, it is under the cut!

Google Doc Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/10wqr5s-CzkFzLidQgt-y4-cjudHWwVeVPWCedMjK7t0/edit

If you want to recommend fics, you can do that as well! I only add fics that I’ve read. 

Watch Them Rolling Back

         Word Count: 16.9k          Rating: Teen and Up          Notable Tags: Post Infinity War, Canon Divergence          Warnings: Temporary Character Death          Synopsis: Bucky was just here, he was right here. This can’t be all that’s left. Well, it’s not all that’s left, not quite. There, in the pile of ash that used to be Bucky Barnes, already drifting to scatter across the soil of Wakanda, to dissipate in the air, to be nothing but dust on Steve’s hands and in his gasping mouth and in his lungs—left there, in that ash and dirt, are his gun, and his left arm, gleaming dully in the sunshine.

Hey Bartender, Pour ‘Em Hot Tonight

           Word Count: 22.9k            Rating: Mature            Notable Tags: Bartender!Bucky, Patron!Steve           Warnings: Smut           Synopsis: Steve looks down and catches sight of a bright pink drink in a hurricane glass. Moisture is beaded on the outside, and the cool feel of it is nice on Steve’s sweaty hand as he picks up the monstrosity Sam has ordered for him.

“What the hell is this?” Steve asks, a disbelieving smile on his face. “You couldn’t just order me a beer?” “You said to surprise you,” Sam smirks. “And you made me wait.” “But what is it?” Steve repeats, and is answered by a deep, unfamiliar voice. “It’s a Singapore Sling,” the man behind the bar is smiling. “Not what you were expecting?” In which Bucky is a bartender and Steve is immediately smitten. He's not the only one.

Roommate Wanted 

            Word Count: 61.7k             Rating: Teen and Up             Notable Tags: Roomate!AU, Secret Identity             Warnings: None             Synopsis: As Captain America, he’s one of New York’s finest heroes. But as regular old Steve Rogers? Nothing more than a struggling graphic designer who can't quite pay rent anymore. The solution? Get a roommate. Enter Bucky Barnes, aka the Winter Soldier, ex-brainwashed assassin turned hero trying to make up for his violent past. He needs a place to stay - preferably with a roommate who wouldn't mind his weird hours. Seems like the perfect match. Only problem? Neither knows the other is a hero.

These Streets

          Word Count: 5.4k                        Rating: Mature           Notable Tags: Cop!Steve            Warnings: Smut           Synopsis: The life and times of Police Officer Steve Rogers and his dealings with the not so classy residents of his local precinct, including Bucky Barnes, the rough muscle with the dreamy blue eyes.

(A Silent Prayer) Like Dreamers Do

             Word Count: 12.5k             Rating: Mature             Notable Tags: Soulmate!AU, Shrunkyclunks              Warnings: None             Synopsis: Everyone has a soulmate. Everyone. Since the counsel has been keeping records, there has been one exception to that rule, and considering the man, no one was very surprised. After all, Captain America, ne Steve Rogers, was the exception to all the rules. So when he plunged into the Atlantic in a plane loaded with enough explosives to take out the entire Eastern Seaboard, the nation mourned him, but the counsel breathed a sigh of relief. Their perfect record - a soulmate for everyone - was intact. When Bucky is five or six or seven, he has his first bonding dream.

The Tipping Point

             Word Count: 16.8k              Rating: Teen and Up              Notable Tags: Not CACW Compliant, Touch Starved              Warnings: None              Synopsis: Bucky shows up at Steve's door a week after he pulled him out of the Potomac. He brings his cat with him. Eventually, they stay.

Victims and Victories

             Word Count: 14.7k              Rating: Explicit             Notable Tags: Army!Steve,, Mechanic!Bucky             Warnings: Past Abusive Relationship, Mentions of R*pe/Non-Con, Assault              Synopsis: Steve Rogers is an Army Special Forces Captain. Bucky Barnes, former marine sniper, restores and sells old cars in his spare time. They meet one day when Steve is on a run and Bucky is running from his abusive ex. Steve turns out to be exactly what Bucky needs.

Strange Visitor (From Another Time)

             Word Count: 51.1k              Rating: Explicit               Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Hidden Identity, Reporter!Bucky, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers              Warnings: Slight Smut             Synopsis: James Barnes, rising star reporter of the New York Bulletin, has a plan. One, find out all there is to know about New York's newest vigilante Nomad, starting with his true identity. Two, write a masterful piece about it. Three, win a Pulitzer and become the envy of all his peers. Four, enjoy. Or, you know, something like that. One thing's for certain, though: he sure as hell isn't going to let that fucking asshole newbie Grant O'Connor steal his spotlight.

I Will Remember You

          Word Count: 15.4k           Rating: Teen and Up           Notable Tags: Temporary Amnesia           Warnings: None           Synopsis: Bucky is James now, and it takes Steve losing his memory to bring them back together He stares at the man, curious and wondering. “Who are you?”  “James Barnes.”  The man’s voice, and the way he shapes his consonants—soft and smooth and just a touch foreign—is almost, but not quite, familiar.  “Are we friends too?” he asks. “Yeah.” Huh. The way his body’s responding to James doesn’t seem very friend-like.

Travelling Light 

           Word Count: 56.8k            Notable Tags: Angel!Bucky, Dark Fantasy, Bonding            Warnings: Canonical Character Death, Smut            Synopsis: When Steve wakes up, it is a surprise. The last thing he remembers is the bottom of the lake, sharp teeth and yellow eyes, and the cold pressure of not being able to breathe. But he isn’t dead. He didn’t drown. He is not in the water anymore. Instead, he is warm, very much alive, and wrapped in a cocoon of feathers. He’s also naked. And with a man lying right next to him.

La Belle et la Bête

             Word Count: 66.7k              Rating: Explicit               Notable Tags: Beauty and the Beast!AU, Forced Marriage, Veteran!Bucky              Warnings: Body Horror, Smut              Synopsis: Steven Rogers was born in 18th century Ireland to a mother who knew herbs and the old ways. After she passes, Steve asks for aid and gets more than he bargained for. He’s cursed into the form of a beast by day and given 300 years to prove to the fae enchantress that such a thing as true love exists. If he can’t prove it, he’ll be whisked back to her realm and be forced to marry her. He can try to find love with whomever he wants, but they have to fall in love with him without seeing his human face for a year and a day. He spends hundreds of years searching, but so far, no one seems worth the risk. Bucky Barnes is a grumpy war vet whose sister is dying. Desperate, he goes in search of a flower that can save her, but the cost is higher than he anticipated: His sister’s life in exchange for his. When he returns to keep his side of the bargain, nothing in the mansion is what it seems.

Captain America and the Great Pygmalion Debacle

             Word Count: 31.7k              Rating: Explicit               Notable Tags: Friends to Lovers, Slow Build              Warnings: Smut              Synopsis: Bucky absolutely refuses to cut his hair and for the life of him Steve can't understand why. The reason? There's nothing in this world Bucky loves more than having Steve brush it...

Breath I’ll Take, and Breath I’ll Give

              Word Count: 17.1k               Rating: Mature               Notable Tags: Post CATWS               Warnings: PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts               Synopsis: It's starting to get harder for Steve to find reasons to get out of bed in the morning.

Lucky Seven

              Word Count: 94.3k               Rating: Explicit               Notable Tags:  Shrunkyclunks, Mechanic!Bucky, Russian!Bucky, Slow Burn                Warnings: Smut               Synopsis: Captain America trashes his motorcycle a lot. Tony says he'll fix it, then never gets around to it and just buys him a new one. Steve, the Depression-era kid, can't stand the waste and goes looking for somewhere near him in Brooklyn where he can get his bike fixed. That's how he finds Red Star Bike Repair, and the hot Russian-immigrant bike racer who runs it: all long hair and muscles and tattoos. And for the first time since he woke from the ice, Steve feels a connection to someone; a comfort in the other man's silences and his space, an attraction in his sheer skill at racing. But James Barnes isn't exactly who he seems…

The Arsonist’s Choir

            Word Count: 11.9k             Rating: Explicit             Notable Tags: Post CACW, (Kind of) Fake Marriage             Warnings: Smut             Synopsis: "It's Bucky," Steve added, helplessly. The buyer was now sitting at Mikhailov's table, but the mission seemed unimportant. "He's been arrested. In Texas. And, uh, apparently, we're married." "Congratulations," Natasha replied, with a small grin. "Are you registered anywhere?"

What a Dizzy Dance

          Word Count: 30.7k           Rating: Explicit           Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Model!Bucky, Neighbours!AU           Warnings: Smut           Synopsis: An AU where Bucky is a model but Steve is still Steve. They live next to each other and Bucky keeps accidentally stealing Steve's cat.

Separating Me From You

         Word Count: 14.8k          Rating: Mature          Notable Tags: Post CATWS          Warnings: None          Synopsis: After Bucky's recovery, in the face of SHIELD's rebirth, and as all the Avengers have found themselves at a comfortable place with themselves and each other, it should have occurred to Steve that something would go wrong. However, he could have never guessed that trouble would come in the form of the US Army deciding that, because Steve had signed himself over for Project Rebirth, he was technically still the property of the US Government. Property that they wanted to claim.

The Sweetest Spark

         Word Count: 73.1k          Rating: Explicit          Notable Tags: Modern!AU, Age Difference, No Powers          Warnings: Smut          Synopsis: Steve Rogers runs a successful business. He has great friends and a great life. It seems like he has it all. So why is he sitting in a diner on a Friday night alone? Maybe he's just a little lonely. Maybe Bucky Barnes can help with that. ----- It wasn’t just how he looked. Of course, the fact that he was ridiculously stunning was what Steve had noticed first when he’d spotted him across the diner and had left him staring with his mouth open before he’d realised what he was doing, but how could he not?...

A Memory Like a Haunting

           Word Count: 28.6k            Rating: Explicit            Notable Tags: Time Travel            Warnings: Smut            Synopsis: “Why is Bucky’s line disconnected?” Steve asks. “Steve, who are you talking about?” Clint asks. Steve glares at him. “Bucky. You know. The Winter Soldier. My boyfriend. Long hair, metal arm. Come on, guys, this isn’t funny.” “No one is laughing,” Natasha replies. “There is no one called the ‘Winter Soldier,’ and if you have a boyfriend, you certainly haven’t introduced him to us.” “JARVIS, can you tell me if Bucky is in the building?” he asks instead of responding to Nat. There is a long pause and then JARVIS’ clear voice comes down from the ceiling. “I have no records of anyone who goes by the name ‘Bucky’ entering the building.” Or: Steve wakes from a nightmare only to find that Bucky no longer exists.

Honeymoon Cabin

          Word Count: 16.8k           Rating: Explicit           Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Post Avengers, Veteran!Bucky           Warnings: Smut            Synopsis: After a misunderstanding about the rental availability of the famed Honeymoon Cabin, two lonely men end up falling in love during a winter snowstorm that strands them in the same place.

[shardminds]

fortune favours the brave

pairing: emma swan/killian jones rated: m (for language & depiction of injury & just to be safe) wc: 5189 pacific rim!au

She passes the pseudo-drift but Killian can’t quite meet her eyes afterwards and Emma catches herself wondering, with clenched fists, if it’s all worth it.

just a warning, this is an open-ended work, meaning the ending is up to your own interpretation and i most likely will not be writing anything else to clarify... unless i decide to have another crack at this au down the line and completely rewrite the whole thing but i am a lazy bitch above all else with too many things to do so please don't get your hopes up!

my initial tag for this was "dealing with the weight of a neurological bond that reveals a lot more about yourself than you’d like." but ao3 said it was too long

this was intended as a birthday present to myself but it's 12 days late and i won't apologise.

also available on ao3 ♠

@artistic-writer is my saviour and i love her.

As soon as the pincer hits her spine, the simulation is over. Quicker than death could ever have captured her, quicker than the pain she was expecting in her lower back, quicker than blinking past a fallen beast and thinking it long past dead. If it were real, she wouldn’t have to deal with the disappointment of her superiors as they marked another tally in the opposite column of their tablets.

Kaiju: 3, Swan: 0.

Pixels dissipate into the air, audios and visuals power down as the relay gel leaks from her display, Killian sighs over the comms and the four walls of the training centre scream failure. Unclasping the plug at her neck, she collapses to the floor. Defeated.

“If your intention was to get paralysed, love, congratulations.” He’s exasperated, words clipped, and she knows he’s probably running his hand through his hair in that way he does or rolling his eyes or praying for this to be over. She can picture it so well because she’s been there, supervising rangers through the same process. That had been her job, her safe space. Then Marshal Mills had coerced her into a compatibility trial with the promise of a bigger bunk and a night off with the last bottle of bourbon on deck. Suddenly, nowhere was safe anymore. “It’s just a simple test,” she’d said, rolling her eyes at Emma’s reluctance to even try. “What harm can it do?”

If he catches the curses under her breath as she stands, he doesn’t let on.

Killian had managed to pass her simulated drift space on the second attempt—eviscerating a CAT 3 with ease and ignoring the distractions along the way. He didn’t talk about what stopped him the first time. Neither did she.

She was not so lucky, struggling not to forget herself in the memories of his past. Each step deeper into the consciousness he’d moulded dragged her further away from the task at hand. Each step closer to finding out what keeps Killian Jones awake at night is a step away from truly knowing him. She felt it all. His pain, grief and loss coming in overwhelming waves, only serving to intensify her own. Each time she failed, she understood him a little bit better and lost herself a little bit more.

Robin said it’s the trauma that helps their compatibility and the resilience in light of such pain. Will said it’s because they’re both insufferable cunts.

You can’t choose your drift partner.

“Again.” Adjusting the helmet slightly, she pulls up her vitals on the inner screen. BP a little high, heart rate too, brainwaves stable. Good enough. If she could just get past the random-access brain impulse triggers, the lure of Killian’s fabricated conflicts, she’d be showering the fabricated city in fabricated Kaiju Blue.

(Of course, she’d never really do that. Regina doesn’t need a reason to resent her.)

“Swan, take five.” The comm in her inner ear buzzes. Killian, again. There’s a tension to his tone, as if he could snap at a moment's notice. It’s not easy, having someone else inside your head—even when it’s not real. It’s worse when every inch of it is projected in agonisingly high definition to your commanding officers. Emma’s been living through his trauma while he’s been forced to watch it back, time and time again. She’ll get it next time.

Next time.

Always next time.

“No, count me down.”

“Swan—”

“My vitals are fine! No bleeds, no dizziness, motor function all good.” The CNS link connects to the back of her neck with a twist of her wrist and a dull click. Power vibrates through the plug suit, humming like the anticipation Emma can feel beneath her own skin. “One more try, I’m almost there.”

There’s no response from Killian. No quip or complaint. He’s silent as Emma closes her eyes and opens them to the darkness of the drift. The next voice she hears is Robin’s.

“Five.”

Her world is blue. Warped. Memories zipping past her that she does and doesn’t remember. Emma recognises one woman’s face from her previous pseudo-drifts. She has a name somewhere.

“Four.”

The woman walks off to some kind of middle distance, between nothing and nowhere. She indicates for Emma to follow with the crook of her finger and a smile.

“Three.”

It’s not Emma she’s seeing.

“Stop chasing it, Emma. Two.”

Taking a breath, Emma wills away the apparition, tuning in to the pounding of her own heartbeat and that of someone else’s — Killian’s, strong and steady. It grounds her.

“Prepare for Neural Handshake.”

When the Kaiju pincer swings for her, she slices it clean off.

She passes the pseudo-drift but Killian can’t quite meet her eyes afterwards and Emma catches herself wondering, with clenched fists, if it’s all worth it.

//

A CAT 3 and two CAT 2’s attack what’s left of San Francisco a week later in the largest triple event in recorded history and yes, it’s definitely worth it.

Ruby and Graham are deployed in Lone Wolf, along with two Jaegers from Alaska. The fight, like all fights, is raw and too close. Always too close. They return half a day later, lucky to have made it out with their lives. The bags under Jefferson’s eyes carry the weight of the world as he reports back to the bridge with the news.

They’ll never pilot again.

Killian finds her later, sat atop Frozen Serenity with a half-empty hip flask and a cigarette. He doesn’t question her or the tears she wears. He holds her, one arm wrapping around Emma’s shoulders, pulling her into his chest. It’s too close, too much but not enough. It’s times like this—times of wordless understanding—that she’s glad of the bond they supposedly have.

Thankfully, he doesn’t waste his words with reassurance. Regina had spent the last thirty minutes on the comms for everyone to hear. The threat was eliminated; victory, but at what cost? Ruby and Graham had been wheeled in on gurneys, surrounded by medics and techs and escorted directly to isolation. Their Jaeger followed shortly after, complete with thick gashes to its middle and a viciously pierced conn-pod leaking rivulets of coolant and Kaiju blood. It didn’t take Emma long to see why they’d ushered the pilots away.

Sneaking off had been a non-issue.

“Next time,” The warmth of his body offers only slight comfort from the chill of the hangar but she’s grateful for it. “It’ll be us.”

“We might not even drift yet. The simulation is nothing like the real thing.” The lump in her throat has her choking around the words. The fragility of it all should frighten her, but it doesn’t. She’s not scared. There’s no time for fear.

“We will.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s called trust.” When he smiles, sad but hopeful, the tears come again.

It’s all worth it, even if she loses herself in the process.

//

Jolly Roger, a Mark 3 with a history of fallen pilots, had been in pretty bad shape when Emma had seen it come through the east coast bunker a year ago. With a compromised pod and basically no left side, it was a mess.

Will had already sized the wreck up for parts before it’d even docked in the hangar.

“There’s no way it’ll run again. Core to Wolf, pod fixed up for Snow’s Mark 4, shocks to whoever needs them most and the rest for scraps and refurbs.” He’d said, around a mouthful of instant mac and cheese. Emma rolled her eyes, grabbing a bite of her own meagre rations. “Bet as much as you want, you know I’m right.”

After six months, when Marshal Mills announced they needed a co-pilot for Jolly, Emma collected her prize with a smile and a disgruntled “Fuck off.” from the mechanic.

Seeing it now, all shiny and new, with a fresh core, updated weapon systems and a slick paint job was like looking at a different machine entirely. Killian has the same awestruck glaze to his expression that she has.

He says something under his breath that sounds like “I missed you.”

//

Three days later, atop the bunker looking out at the wasteland the eastern seaboard has become, Killian finds her again. The horizon is permanently tinged green these days, thick with smog rising from the polluted city that used to be Boston. It’s something else now, something new entirely. New York had really done a number on the east coast.

“So,” he starts, a six pack in his good hand and a thick file—her file—in his mechanical one. “It seems that the fate of the earth relies on us getting intimate, love.”

Emma shrugs his comment off with an eye roll. “In your dreams.”

“In my dreams, we wouldn’t be drinking this backwash,” she catches the bundle of cans as it falls to her lap and pulls two free of the casing. Killian slumps down beside her, a welcome warmth against her side. He’s always warm. “And you’d be wearing a lot less.”

“Pervert.” Her cheeks flush from the windchill and not because of the wink he sends her way as he takes a can from her lap.

He shrugs, gulping back his beer. “I’ve been called a lot worse.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“I doubt anything could, lass.”

He reads in relative silence, which Emma appreciates, only pausing to ask questions at the redacted statements in her story. There’s no point in hiding anything from him now—soon, he’ll see it all. There’s something about Killian Jones that she trusts and she’s not exactly sure why.

“You were there? In New York?” He thumbs the report sheet, filled with more censoring than words. She doesn’t remember much of it; being eighteen, the toils of pregnancy, wrongful imprisonment, the first Kaiju attack on the east coast, holding her child to her chest as the walls crumbled. The memories are all so distant, it almost feels like someone else lived them.

Emma nods. “Unfortunately.”

Killian doesn’t push for the details; all the relevant ones are written on the sheet he’s holding. How they’d found her bleeding beneath rubble and dust, clutching the bundle of blankets and the body within. There hadn’t been time for a funeral.

She’s shaking when he takes her hand.

“It was my first deployment. On a CAT 4, no less.” He traces circles around her knuckles as if they’re anything but strangers. She doesn’t have it in her heart to stop him. “Cataclysm, they called it. The ugliest bloody thing I’d ever seen. Liam, the comedian he is—was, spent the whole fight calling it all kinds of names as we tore it to pieces bit by bit.” He takes another sip of his can, eyes locked on the horizon. “I felt him die that day.”

His thumb doesn't stop tracing its pattern, but she grips his hand tighter—part shock, part understanding.

“Jewel never stood a chance. The emp left us wide open and the blasted thing used its last breath to launch at the conn-pod and—”

“You don’t have to, Killian.” She whispers, beer forgotten at their feet. “You don’t have to relive it.”

“But I do. Every time I step foot in the hangar, I relive it. Every time I drift, or spar or train. Every time I look in the mirror I see his face staring back at me.” He sighs, letting his posture slip further. He’s no longer a Ranger. He’s a lost boy. The grief he carries, the guilt, is something she recognises. “I miss him, Emma, and there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Wind blows, alarms ring, sun filters through the murky atmosphere and casts them both in its golden glow and Emma Swan pulls him in for a hug.

He stiffens in her embrace before leaning into it, letting the tension dissipate beneath her touch. It’s intimate in a way that doesn’t need words and her breath catches at the sight of a teardrop on his cheek.

Putting space between them again is hard, but necessary.

“I know you’ve probably heard this a thousand times, but you better be prepared to hear it a thousand more. It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. It will never be your fault. We’re Rangers. We’re disposable. The world is ending and we’re the first line of defence. If we fall—” He’s watching her so intently, hanging on her every word.

There’s no way to soften the blow of a death sentence.

“We’re going to die in a Jaeger, Killian, that much is inevitable. We won’t grow old. We won’t pass in our sleep. We’ll go screaming at the hands of a Kaiju and, I don’t know about you, but I plan on taking a fair share of those fuckers with me in the process.”

A nod.

A squeeze.

A gulp.

He’s still holding her hand when they return to the artificial warmth of the hangar.

//

He used to drink black coffee, dark and bitter. She hates it, preferring sweetness over caffeination in her warm beverages but getting her own would require a trip to the cafeteria earlier than she’d like to be awake. A few seconds of grimacing over the taste is worth it for the extra half hour of sleep. Killian’s an early riser—of course, he is. It’s a wonder they’re compatible at all.

Killian initially tried to put up a fight over it, hold it out of her reach like kids on the playground or finish it off before Emma could even think of crawling out of her quarters, but she wore him down, little by little.

They’re working on Jolly with Will when she takes a sip, stealing the travel mug from his hand and already half wincing for the unsweetened assault. When surprisingly palatable coffee hits her tongue, she almost chokes. It’s not half bad; no acrid punch of burnt grounds, no grainy aftertaste. Instead, it’s sweet. Creamy. Not what she was expecting at all.

“What’s this?” She takes a sniff at the lid incredulously. Is that… syrup?

“According to Ms Lucas, this is what poses as a caramel latte these days. Filled to the brim with sugar, spice and all things nice, just how you like it.” Will hands him a tablet, outlining the Jaeger’s current specifications. Emma understands enough of it to get by—she’s more attuned to reading neural charts, not the gibberish the engineers put out—but Killian revels in the details. He doesn’t even look her way as he speaks, fully engrossed in the graphs, comparisons and visuals. It also means he doesn’t notice Emma eyeing up how good he looks with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a grease stain on his left cheek. Just the right amount of dishevelled. “Is there any way we can drop a few tonnes to help increase speed and manoeuvrability?”

Will peers at the tablet, overseeing the stats with a critical eye. “No, mate. Not without losing vital armouring.”

“What about swapping out the nuclear core?” Killian hums, swiping to the next screen.

“Don’t be daft, Killian. It’s brand new.”

“The arc-whip?”

“I’m gonna cut in and say no on that one.” Emma interjects, surprised that she even managed to drag her attention away from the warm, sweet beverage in her hands or the enigma of a man that let her take it. The arc-whip is her preferred weapon—combining both distance and close combat, great for the CAT 2’s and smaller CAT 3’s that like to stay just out of reach or dragging back the larger beasts from getting further inland. She’s the one that suggested it be added to Jolly’s arsenal in the first place.

“Come on, love.” Handing her the tablet and tapping a few menus, Killian points out Jolly’s stats without it. Their speed would be improved and their power longevity, but they’d be sacrificing their range completely. “Having an arc-whip and a plasma cannon is overkill.”

The mechanic chuckles, coming to her other side and throwing an arm around their shoulders. “Technically, the plasma cannon is overkill anyway. Massive power drain.”

“Don’t you start.” Killian bats his arm away and Will cocks an eyebrow in challenge.

“Just because I’m right.”

Before either of them can respond, the hangar shudders as alarms blare. The alarm they all dread.

The Breach.

//

The CAT 2—Axefury—with armour piercing spines and nasty blade-like mandibles, emerges just off the coast of Florida, stalking towards the shore.

Frozen Serenity is deployed, piloted by sisters Anna and Elsa.

The fight takes an hour.

Killian brings her another coffee as they watch the battle from the command centre. He doesn’t say a word, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as she tenses against the cold realisation.

It could’ve been them.

Next time, it will be.

//

When he knocks her on her ass, straddling her waist with his sparring staff pressed to her throat, Killian’s eyes are the bluest she’s ever seen, and it takes her a second to remember where they are. He smirks, allowing her space to breathe while keeping her thoroughly pinned down.

“Normally, I’d prefer to do other more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back.” With a voice like that, velvet and grit, Emma’s not sure if she wants to push him away or pull him closer. The watchful eye of Marshal Mills keeps her straight. The last thing anyone needs is a show. She struggles just enough to make him cocky before retaliating, using his own weight against him.

In a heartbeat, he’s the one on his back, head caught in a lock between Emma’s thighs. In the time it takes for him to realise what’s going on, eyes widening as he realises where he is, it’s too late. His weapon clatters to the edge of the crash mat, useless.

“For future reference,” She pants, squeezing her legs tighter until Killian taps out against the floor. “I prefer to be on top.”

He laughs and, despite the patrol alarm blaring down the hall and Regina’s eye roll, the world feels a little lighter.

//

When they drift in Jolly for the first time, the phantom woman from the pseudo-drift is nowhere to be seen. There’s a blip where Killian gets caught up in visions of destruction and earthquakes and rivers of blue eroding the streets of New York, but just as Emma feels the echoes of her memories in his mind, they’re gone. He’s in her head. An uncomfortable yet reassuring presence that she never thought she’d be able to endure again.

“Neural bridge initiated and holding strong. Well done, guys.” Robin chirps over the speakers, dragging them out of the initial drift space and back to their shared reality. She lifts her left arm as Killian lifts his right and they join the jaeger’s metallic palms in a salute that rumbles through the bowels of the hangar.

Cheers erupt from the comm lines as scientists and pilots and soldiers line the walkways and balconies to celebrate their achievement.

She can feel the haze of his irritation through the link.

“We’re another shot at hope for them.” Her uncalibrated right-hand takes his uncalibrated left wrist just above the brace of his prosthetic. He doesn’t flinch but his thoughts stutter, interlaced with images of her soft smile and memories of each time they’d sparred, each stolen hour on the rooftops, each close encounter, each moment that could’ve been an almost, or a maybe. Emma pauses just long enough to imagine What if?

She shakes them away. They owe each other that much.

“We’re a suicide mission.” He’s right and his voice buzzes in the back of her skull. If the comm deck picked up on his words, they don’t respond.

“Yeah,” she lets his arm fall back to his side, making sure her left side—the one that’s wired into the eight thousand tonne government-approved death machine—stays relatively still. “But it’s worth it.”

“Is it?”

She can’t tell the difference between his words and his thoughts right now.

Static crackles in the conn-pod before Robin’s voice calls out again. “Ready to take her for a spin?”

//

She kisses him, with trembling palms pressed to his chest. Because she wants to. Because she can. Because, more than anything else, she isn’t ready to die. Not now. He is slow to respond, one hand on her shoulder ready to put distance between them at a moment's notice, the other at her waist, pulling her closer. The corridor leading to their quarters is empty and, beneath the harsh light, he tastes like the coffee they’d shared for breakfast.

He doesn’t push her away. She’s grateful for that.

The absence of Killian in her head should be a relief but it isn’t. It feels… empty. The absence of a presence that had made itself at home. She’d worked with rangers for years, ever since the hangar took her in, learning the in’s and out’s of the neural bridge and working to better align pilots with an initial pseudo-drift before putting them through the real thing.

She’d never expected to like it.

It’s exhilarating.

The expiry date they have hanging over their heads is unavoidable now. They’re compatible, truly compatible, doubting that is no use to anyone and despite whatever lead them both to the corps, whatever it is she catches glimpses of when they drift, she trusts him.

Fingers still trembling and head thick with fog, Emma trusts him.

“That was—”

A mistake.

Long overdue.

A one-time thing.

Just the beginning.

“Worth it.”

//

“Emma—”

“Be quiet.”

She snakes a hand around his waist, using his surprise to yank him closer into the alcove, away from prying eyes. Their dark uniforms blend in the shadows. Chest to chest like this, Emma can barely catch her breath. The cold steel pipe against her back does nothing to dissuade the heat he’s putting out—seriously, how is he always warm? It’s impossible to avoid his gaze either, the intensity of it only magnified with their proximity.

There’s questions there—so many questions—but he doesn’t have to ask them. She knows.

Killian’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

She knows.

David and Snow walk past none the wiser, caught up in a discussion about something or other. Emma can’t focus enough to listen in, too distracted by everything in her body that screams for her to pull Killian closer and slam their mouths together until they forget about the rest. She holds her breath until the other rangers round the corner at the end of the hall.

“Mills hasn’t cleared Humbert or Lucas for visitation. We’ll be turned away.” Killian whispers, mouth so close to her ear that she can feel his words better than hearing them. His cheek catches hers as he pulls back but he doesn’t get far, her hand still pressed to his side, holding him in place. His brows raise in surprise.

Her palm tingles against the empty air when she lets go.

“Let me do the talking.”

He nods, following as she exits into the corridor, only a half-step behind.

//

They don’t have clearance. The med bay doors beep dejectedly as Emma’s ID card fails to pass the security check. Will had promised it would work, he’d sworn. Either he lied, already ratted them out to the Marshal or—

Victor Whale.

“Mills already has her reports delivered to her directly every hour,” he sighs, tugging off his gloves, surgical mask and running a free hand through his hair. Emma can see the dark roots coming through. There’s no market for salon-quality peroxide at the end of the world, apparently. “With the intention of alleviating the need for rangers like yourselves to check in. Can’t you go be annoying somewhere else? I don’t have time to file insubordination paperwork, I’m already understaffed.”

Killian reaches out, pleading, his eyes wide and blue and honest. He grabs the doctor’s forearm with his mechanical hand.

“Please, mate. Just five minutes.”

Whale’s brow furrows focused on the prosthetic gripping his arm. The fear of disciplinary action outweighs a lot of things in the hangar.

//

She’s pale, too pale, and riddled with tubes and drips and monitors that beep along with the pace of her heart. The burns, blistered and seeping, are tinged blue with the toxic sludge that courses through Kaiju veins. Blue burns, as they’re colloquially referred, aren’t uncommon. There are ointments and salves to calm the low-level contact burns and sprays to neutralise the toxins in the acid. What’s left of the governments have put extensive measures in place to ensure that stuff like this doesn’t happen to the general public.

They don’t seem to care for rangers.

As Ruby’s skin sloughs from the slightest friction of the sterile sheets, Emma can feel the first clutches of fear curl around her throat.

Corpselike. That’s the only word that comes to mind. Ruby, once so full of life, has never looked so… not, and Emma can’t help but fall into step with the ventilator that’s currently breathing for her as if somehow it makes a difference. The steady whirr of the machine only working to wind up the anxieties simmering beneath the surface of her skin.

Next time, it’ll be them.

Next time, it’ll be her.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

“We’re having to keep her under.” Someone —Victor? — hums, ignoring them both to look over the digitised chart at the foot of her bed. “There’s a lot of irrevocable damage that we’re still looking into while repairing what we can externally.”

Inhale.

“What about Gra— Ranger Humbert?” Killian's hand hasn’t left hers since they entered and, for what it’s worth, she’s thankful for the anchor and the ever-present warmth he offers. His presence is grounding and his words reflect her thoughts when she can’t quite reach her own.

Exhale.

It’s too much.

Inhale.

“More of the same”

Exhale.

They never should’ve come

//

His lips taste of salt.

The inevitability of death.

It burns.

“I don’t want to lose this.” she pants, soft against Killian’s lips as he smiles and steals it away. Like the future they don’t have. That she so painfully wished they could have. “I—”

His kisses trail to her ear, each one as gentle as the last. Too soft, too delicate. It terrifies and excites her how something as small as a kiss can melt her resolve to nothing. Any shadow of doubt disappearing with each step they take closer to the inevitable. After everything that had happened, from sneaking into the med bay, drowning the images with the last of that damn bottle of bourbon that started all this and sparring until they were both bruised and beaten and breathless, sex had been the last thing on her mind. It had crept up on her, crept up on them both, and it was impossible to deny.

That first rooftop rendezvous, first spar, first kiss, all those weeks ago, had cemented this. She can see that now.

Closing what little distance there is left between them, Killian walks her backwards until her thighs bump against the solid table behind them. “You won’t, love. I’ve got you.”

Each touch, each glance, each gasp is another goodbye.

His prosthetic rests on her waist as his other makes light work of the fastenings of her uniform, and she urges him on with a moan. She’s thankful they made it back to his quarters. They won’t make it to the bed.

Emma searches for answers as he pulls off his shirt, praying something in his eyes will reassure her that this—whatever this is—is okay, that they’re not terrible people for finding something worth fighting for at the end of the earth, anything to provide even a modicum of hope that maybe, just maybe, they’ll survive just long enough to have a chance at finding out if it is. She clutches at his shoulders, with nails biting into his skin, and breathes.

She doesn’t find the answers. Instead, she finds herself.

Scared and afraid, clinging to the last comfort she has left.

Three words bloom, fade and crumble in her mind, as fragile as a leaf on the wind and, before she can even speak them, Killian nods.

“I know.”

Somewhere deep inside her chest, behind broken walls and the rubble of a past life, something long since broken, beats.

//

Emma wakes up to warmth. An all encompassing warmth surrounding her so completely, an aura of heat welding together the cracks that had once debilitated her heart. So familiar, and pure and yet so foreign at the same time.

Each beat of her heart echoed by a shadow.

Each exhale mirrored by that of another, a soft caress against her nape.

The solid and comforting press of a body—his body—against her back, bringing forth memories of the night previous so slowly, like a crack in a dam; first a drip and then a flood. The synchronicity. The passion. The mutual need to just Be.

The absence of all thought except one.

Life is just too fucking short.

As if summoned by her mental recollection, Killian’s arm wraps around her waist. His lips ghost against the skin of her shoulder blade and the kiss he presses to her neck brings a smile to her face.

“Good morning, Swan.” He purrs, voice gravelly and wrapped in sleep. Damn, if Emma had only known he sounded like that first thing sooner—

The thought catches her off guard.

It’s so… normal. Domestic.

She could get used to it. She wants to get used to it.

“Mor—”

The spell shatters. The facade peels away to reveal the truth and the bliss that had wrapped her up in its glow is gone. Reality hits.

The blood-curdling scream of the one alarm they pray will never ring.

The Breach.

Robin’s voice screeches out over the comms in a panicked shout, followed by the calm and commanding call of Marshal Mills. Her own name and rank is called, along with Killian’s. Emma’s blood runs cold when the realisation hits.

A CAT 5.

All units to report.

Approaching New York.

Killian doesn’t move for what seems like an eternity, lips still pressed to her skin in an everlasting kiss, as if time has somehow warped around this very moment, stretching seconds into minutes, hours. Allowing them a chance to come to terms with what must happen next.

Their fates were sealed the second they stepped foot in the hangar.

Emma wrapped in a hospital gown. Killian in a battered, blood-stained plug suit.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, already drowned out by the blaring siren that fills every corner of the room. Emma can’t tell if he’s saying it for her sake or his own.

When she turns to him, pulling herself upright in the process and letting the cold of his quarters seep into her bare chest, he’s smiling. It’s by no means her favourite smile—wide and full of laughter—but it’s something and, for some crazy reason, she believes in it.

She believes in them.

“Fortune favours the brave.”

  ////

tagging a few of y’all!  @thisonesatellite​ @teamhook​ @kmomof4​ @superchocovian​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @thisonesatellite @darkcolinodonorgasm @carpedzem @hollyethecurious