#there is slight red on the obvious injuries like the ear rip and missing eye

[munchieminch]

I felt like I needed a fresh new pfp for the hallowed night season so here is my baby boy as a zombie (sort of? he's missing an eye and is bloody) ((also does this count for starvetober day 25: death? is he dead? i dont know anymore what is he)) here's the clean version with (almost!) no blood, under the cut will be the bloody version (that I am very proud of)

obviously, TW BLOOD / EYE SOCKET, BITE MARKS AND CUTS

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Our Nightly Confidant 5

Four steps in my shoes

Four feels strongly.

In general, as a rule, but also in this specific situation, where sweat sticks his hair to his forehead and the pegasus boots chaff from constant overuse. From the slight burn of his arm muscles that nonetheless keep swinging the Four Sword.

Amazingly, the emotion at the forefront of his mind cannot be easily and neatly assigned to one facet of him. Annoyance isn't exclusive to any one side of him, quite the contrary. And the 'you can go die!' disdain is a taaaaad too specific as well.

White paws sweep at him and barely miss the top of his head. Would have hit Ezlo, if this had been his first adventure. The pang of nostalgia doesn't help his focus much.

Small bursts of magic and swings of his boomerang sting enough to keep his enemy on the backfoot. Behind him, a few roots twist enough for an opening beneath the trunk. If he can just...

The paw slams inches away from where he was standing a second earlier.

Urgh. It had to happen after they marched all day in search of civilization, didn't it?

Well, nothing to it, Four adjusts his sword and glares back at the slitted eyes trailed on him.

Which is when the loudest, most thunderous bark he ever heard rips the air in half and hammers in his eardrums. The white monster (cat) yowls in fright, fur straight up in horror, back arched, and it sprints right up a tree.

Wolfie is a familiar sight, and a welcome one at that.

But some instinctive part of him that is more Minish than Hylian can't help grip the Four Sword tighter.  From this perspective, Wolfie has more in common with Wild's divine beasts than a regular animal. His claws look about as tall as Four himself. And at the moment, the wolf is displaying a mouth full of fangs that promise a painful death.

He doesn't blame the cat for scampering. He's seen what those fangs can do to a throat. Or a wrist. Or an ankle. Not, really, he thinks the cat shows great wisdom in getting the hell out of Wolfie's range.  

But, because he is a Hero of Courage, he flips the sword in his hands, sheathes it and waves his arms.

“Twilight!”

The shift is instantaneous, and a little amazing to witness. The ears perk up, the posture straightens from its crouch, the teeth all disappear behind the black lips. It's a flip of Pacci's cane, a turn on a rupee, and there's the big beast their group loves.

“You okay there, Smithy?” Twilight asked, sniffing him for signs of injuries.

It's strange, hearing Twilight's voice coming through the sort of mental-bond-language of the Minish. Useful though. He's not certain he currently possesses the patience for some games of charades with a wolf.

“No injuries.” He puts a hand on the damp nose even as a burst of hot air washes over him. “Just a bit out of breath.”

“Right.”

It's not a doubtful tone, but there's some Time-patented exasperation in there.

“I would have been fine, you know?” says the part of Four that is a bit younger. “I dealt with lots of monsters even at this size.”

(Not Wolfie size though, that he thinks might be beyond him when shrunk.)

The flat look he receives makes him want to squirm.

He's too controlled for that.

“Yes, yes, I know.” He waves off the implied question. “I thought the innkeeper's cat was still inside.”

“He was. But after he mewled a bit, his owner let him out. And when I didn't see you... I had a feeling.”

Four wants to hit his head against a tree. Animals always were more aware of the scent of Minish magic. Many eyed him curiously when he walked through town. He should have known the cat would want to stalk after him. Probably thinking he knew where a village was hidden. He's going to have internal arguments about this all night.

“Cats are all bastards.”

To Four's amazement, Twilight's tail curls between his legs, his ears drooping. He rather looks more the guilty dog part than the majestic beast he insists he is.

“... But they're so cuddly.”

“When you're bigger than them, maybe,” Four deadpans. “Sneaky little shits.”

Twilight's whine is absolutely ridiculous and enough to make him snicker.

“Fine, fine. I'm not deaf, I hear what they say. Not as bad as cuccos, though.” Twilight's gaze wanders off to a faraway place. “Nothing is as bad as those psychotic birds.”

They lose a moment reliving their trauma over the feathered fiends.

Twilight shakes it off first. He lies down, his body like a hill of dark fur before Four, and hints at his back. Any protest Four might have had before dies in the face of his aching legs. He can fight off monsters at this size, but it's unreasonably more complicated. And he is not in the mood to stab spiders in the face tonight.

The fur is silky under his fingers, which is comforting but also a bit of a pain. Climbing means parting the coat of dark hairs and finding grip against skin. Sometimes, the body under him flinches or trembles, like Twilight is fighting off the urge to roll over. Four imagines it's quite similar to tickling. So he hurries up and makes his way up to the top of Twilight's head. Between the ears and roughly around the markings on his forehead.

Satisfied, Twilight stands, and the whole world blurs like he's still using his pegasus boots. A few more steps are needed before Four's body adjusts to the speed, and then he can relax. Twilight's safe.

And, he notes, not heading straight for the inn.

“We noticed the looks, you know,” Twilight says, because he's one of those busybodies that can't help mother cucco everyone around him till they are 'right as rain over a spring'.

“So?” he replies, even, practiced.

(Zelda had questions, at first, then orders that were swiftly obeyed, when in her sight. He hasn't told her that yet.)

“... How many of them do that?”

Do what? He wants to ask. The inn's owner had been quite polite, very careful in avoiding certain words around Four. Indeed so careful that Four could feel their syllables get more and more defined by the innkeeper's silence.

“Whisper?” he settles for. “A few. I'm weird, I know. Shorter than some kids, but can lift a hammer to forge. Own my business outside Castle Town, only shows up for groceries, talks to myself sometimes and stares at empty spots on shelves. I don't know, I suppose they expected me to apprentice beforehand, but there was a kingdom to save and what did that matter then?”

He punches the ground next to him before remembering too late it is Twilight's head.

The growl doesn't last. But the first few words he says are a bit more bitten out than the tone implies.

“There's a kid in my village. Younger than you. Couldn't lose the baby fat in his face for the longest time.” Twilight snorts, and his tail wags a bit. “And he's smart, really smart, a lot more mature than his older brother too.”

Four has a feeling that's partially due to the older brother's personality, but holds his tongue.

“People whispered behind his back. 'That boy is so creepy.'”

“Fey-touched,” Four says before he can hold back the red in him.

That one hurt. He's picked up habits from the Minish, he's aware. Little things like leaving keystones lying around for other kids or tiptoeing minish rings in the grass. But for those differences to matter so much, he hadn't expected until the first time the words had been floating around him.

“Ah,” Twilight says, followed by a whole lot of nothing.

Crickets around them sing. He can almost see some Minish putting a collar on the bugs to bring them home for a concert. Moving from behind stalks of grass, praying to the moon and the goddesses.

Then, Twilight says: “That takes me back.”

Four stumbles through the fur, his hands grasping on some new strands, but he can't tell if his unbalance is due a jolt in their steps or to the enormity of the idea. Twilight, the stereotypical rancher, seen as an outsider?

He tries, but all his brain conjures up is a much shorter version of Twilight dragging goats by the horns. That and dancing (badly) to the melody of a grass whistle.

Even from his spot atop Twilight's head, the eye roll is obvious despite being out of sight. “The only Hylian in a village of Humans?” he drawls. “Found as a toddler lost in the woods? Hardly able to speak for a while?”

Oh, Four thinks, that'd do it.

“They don't have the right to say that to you,” Twilight growls. “You're their hero.”

He could bask in the warmth. Lets himself lie down on Twilight and forget all about the events of tonight.

Curiosity wins, or well, violet does. “What did you do?”

“Nothing special? Just stayed the same and let them talk.”

Four's eyes bug out. “That's it? Nothing? How does that change anything?”

“When you're you, Four... When you're a good person regardless of rumors and whispers... Idiots don't stop talking, but the ones that are worth it stop listening.” A wolfish grin breaks out on Twilight's face. “Besides, you should have seen their black eyes after Rusl heard them say it to my face. After that... well, they could have called me the King of Evil and it wouldn't have mattered. Knowing you got someone in your corner's better than hollow praise from idiots.”

Four blushes.

He forgot for a bit, and he'll apologize to Zelda when he sees her, but it's true. Whenever he recalls that moment, the guard's words aren't ever the same. The phrasing lost all its power, outshone by the impassioned defense and the sheer anger wielded by his friend.

His back straightens. And he allows himself some childish pride in having the Princess of Hyrule in his corner. What do they have to beat that?

Twilight rumbles a laugh. “So... yeah, ignore them. Put them in their place if you want, the goddesses know you have the strength to do it, but that won't change their minds about anything. If you want some peace of mind, discard the idiots.”

Companionable silence falls between them. Four doesn't feel the need to speak after that bit of reassurance. They circle the woods, avoiding Hylians late on the road and monsters alike. Twilight's seemingly content just taking him on a ride, and Four's loath to admit he wants the moment to last a little longer.

They're not too far back from their starting point when he decides to ask: “About that kid?”

“Malo?”

“Yeah, him, how does he deal with it?”

Twilight does not answer right away. He first jumps over some large, gnarled roots and growls at a fox that seemed a bit too curious about the smell of Minish magic. Four's grateful for the time to calm his pounding heart.

“Well, Malo just stares at them until they get uncomfortable. Then he asks them what they're looking for. It never seems to affect him too much.” – discomfort hits at that, and Four can't tell why – “But, well, it also happened in front of me, you know? And I take after my Pa. So I might have knocked a couple of heads together in Casle Town. Followed by a strong talking to. Not that Malo appreciated that I ran off some of his customers.” A sigh. “That kid, I swear.”

Four grimaces. That type of 'customers'. Will think they bless his forge with their presence, praise him to all ends, then turn around and whisper. “I'm sure he's grateful inside.”

“Eh, I hope so, but it's his call in the end. Can't live his life for him.” Some muscles roll, and Four gets the impression of a shrug. “Speaking of, what do you want to do, Smithy?”

The question takes him by surprise, and it's silly that he didn't expect it.

He knows that Twilight would spend the night outside with him if he asks. They're no strangers to outdoor camping and the woods of his era are less dangerous than most. Wolfie would intimidate most if not all the creatures that live inside it.

But it would be illogical to sleep in the woods when they have more than enough rupees to pay for some rooms in a local inn.

Four is reasonable. It's one of his trademarks as a Hero. Mature for his age. Calm. Collected. It's how he's taken seriously as an adventurer. Why would he shatter an illusion that useful? Over some mild ostracization?

'Serve it cold,' says one quarter of him.

Another sides with Twilight. Their big brother made a good point. They couldn't be bothered by every single ungrateful person out there. They'd always exist, so let them stew in jealousy and paranoia and fear. He has the favor of the Princess, his best friend. What does he need anger for against a countryside shop owner?

But, the blue in him counters with an hammer-like argument: 'No, the best revenge is both.'

The others would be a little mad, he thinks. A little.

He's usually mature enough not to get in trouble. He's due for some insanity and explosions. Wild would back him up here. And it might be his voice in his head that pushes the words out of his mouth.

“So, not that I haven't listened to a word you said, but, hypothetically, if I needed help knocking heads together...”

“How many heads? Wars mentioned an interesting technique he learned from his sparring with some Sheikah general the other night. Though, if you'd rather, I can say, without boasting, that a lot of grown men weep at this form. It's embarrassing for everyone, I tell you.”

Four snorts, struck by mischief. “We're going to need to find a stump. I might have a plan.”

Yes, Four contemplates, the glint of wolf fangs under the moonlight is just as terrifying as he figured it would be. He can't wait.

                                                        ***

Legend is silently debating with Sky over the right to punch the innkeeper in the face. It's a fierce debate communicated entirely through raised eyebrows, scrunched up nose, muted snarls and meaningful looks.

The others' patience is steadily fraying at the edges. It's especially noticeable with their youngest. There are fireworks going off on Wind's face. The knife cutting his slab of meat to pieces steadily stabs into it every time the innkeeper's mouth opens.

“And where are you fine young men traveling to?” he says with a customer pleaser smile.

'Fine young men'. Ah! There's a thing he didn't say about Four. The fucking nerves of this man.

“Far,” Time replies, his tone even, but his expression thoroughly unimpressed.

“Ah, yes, of course...” the innkeeper says agreeably. “You, huh, you'll be going with the, ahem, with the boy, I imagine?”

How dare he sound hopeful? And 'boy'?! This man's livelihood is owed to the smithy! And he doesn't even have the excuse of mind control!

A hint of shame tickles the back of his mind, when he had first heard the innkeeper talking. He had sounded nothing like the ones from his era, who sometimes refused him entry outright on the basis of old and false accusations.

This current attitude was, technically speaking, a strict improvement over that.

But does the man have to come alive and become so at ease serving them food whilst the Hero of this land take a walk outside? Alone, at night?

Legend grunts into his mug. The rancher left after the smithy, so that ought to solve the 'feelings' question. A bit of a stick-in-the-mud he might be, but Twilight's one of the few he would trust to help navigate difficult feelings. He's got the patience for it, unlike a lot of them who tackle everything the way they do a dungeon, with reckless abandon.

Yet, in the cozy warmth of the fire in the hearth, over the hesitant plucking of the minstrel's chords, a howl suddenly calls to the moon.

They, alone, do not tense.

The howl echoes a second time, much louder. Closer.

The innkeeper shoots them a desperate look, but Legend suddenly realizes that he is blind, and possibly deaf. He has no reason to stand up, much less draw his sword. And, would Farore look at that, his condition is contagious!

The hinges creak as they inch open.

If Legend were not so experienced, he might have been nervous. But he's better than that. He leans back in his seat, places a hand on Hyrule's shoulder, and sips his ale.

There in the doorway, cut in shadows with the moon as backdrop, riding on a large grey wolf, Four raises both arms high in the air.

“Fear my unnatural power,” he says with as ominous a voice he can produce.

Warriors snorts, cheeks reddened by alcohol, and he gives a thumbs-up to their smith, despite the owner's pale complexion.

The mugs left on the table begin to shake. Oh, this is gonna be good.

It starts with a pair of squirrels and a owl, neither obeying their instincts in favor of swooping inside the inn. Followed by a handful of moles, fireflies and stray dogs.

In a flash of white, the inn's cat bolts inside the inn, meowing, till it reaches its owner's legs and climbs onto him. It perches itself on his bald head, seconds before the first deer bounces inside the building.

Epona breaks the first table.

But the three raccoons lunging after his cat are what make the owner scream.

Legend guffaws in his ale.

[sxfterhearts]

healed

31. [12:19 pm]

➳ pairing: yugyeom x reader

➳ genre/warnings: slow burn, fluff, slight bad boy!yugyeom, triggers; mentions of past violence, injuries, physical abuse

➳ word count: 2,725 words

➳ summary: 31. “Don’t worry about me,”

➳ author's note: this is it, the final part of this series! i hope it doesn’t let you down 😭😭 i’d love to hear your thoughts on this series, what you liked/didn’t like, and whether you’d like future drabbles in this universe!! (i’m tempted, tbh) that’s all from me, please please enjoy, lovely readers 🥰 (credits to @jinyoungot7​ for this wonderful gif that kills me everytime)

wounded // scarred // healed

A deep inhale made you giddy with joy. The familiar, sweet scent of this morning’s light drizzle lingered in the air. Although the weather was a bit too humid for your liking, you gratefully savoured the smell that filled your lungs. For some reason, being outside in the aftermath of a downpour always brought you back to that wooden counter of your parents’ restaurant. You used to watch the rain blanket the outside world from the inside as you soaked and drowned yourself in your daydreams. You were a foolish teenager back then, uncertain of the paths you would take and anxious of the future. Getting your heart broken by the one and only Kim Yugyeom was just the icing on the cake.

It was fair to say that a lot had changed since then. In the span of three years, you graduated high school, moved out of that tiny neighbourhood in Namyangju, rented a small studio apartment in Seoul and became a proud Veterinary Science student of Seoul National University.

Yet, you couldn’t help but to admit that while you had progressed into the next chapter of your life, some things will always remain the same. Like how your best friend, Yeeun, never missed out on an opportunity to lecture you over the phone from the comforts of her Busan home. You lifted the device away from your ears to save them from further damage, just as the leash of the cream Pomeranian in your care, Daisy, tugged you forwards, towards a passing bicycle. You urged the dog away from the edge of the sidewalk with a solid ‘No’, which she thankfully obeyed.

“I can’t believe that you’re not doing anything special the week before uni reopens! I mean, hello, we’re going to be spending the next twelve weeks slaving away at our desks, don’t you want to do something fun?” Yeeun shrieked in disbelief. You could imagine her shaking her head at you with that resigned look on her face, the one that signalled she had already given up trying to change your mind.

“Here, girl.” You whispered as softly as you could, trying to grab Daisy’s attention and guide her back to the adoption centre-cum-café, her temporary home. “This is fun and special, Eun. You of all people should know just how special it is to help out these cute furry little babies!”

“More like furry little rascals.” She muttered under her breath. “Come on, Y/N. I get that you’re really passionate about animals and all but just think about it – you’ll be facing these creatures for the rest of your life. You should really try something new once in a while. You know, go drinking or clubbing like a normal uni student. Besides, didn’t you just visit the centre last month for your birthday?”

She was right. You did make the one-hour trip to the adoption café on the morning of your birthday. Ever since that birthday three years ago, you always made it a point to celebrate by being in the presence of a furry companion. Taking care of another living creature, going on walks with them and picking up after them helped you to take your mind off that painful sixteenth birthday when you found out he was leaving. It became your annual ritual.

You cleared your throat, trying to get rid of the small lump triggered by those memories. “Yeah, yeah I did. I… Did I tell you about the dog that I took care of that day?”

Yeeun took a large bite of her favourite takeaway noodles before letting out a muffled “No, what about it?”

“He was… Well, he was a tiny black Pomeranian puppy, not more than four months old. He was cheerful and energetic, couldn’t wait to go on his walk.” You smiled sadly at the thought.

“Yeah…? And?”

“He reminded me so much of Charcoal. You know, the black puppy from your mum’s shelter? I walked Charcoal with him three years ago.”

“Oh, him.” Yeeun grumbled at the mention of Yugyeom.

You ignored the obvious disapproval in her tone. “Yeah, the thing is I really, really, really liked this puppy, and I was even thinking about adopting him for good. I got everything set up in my place, got the pee mats, the dog food, everything, but I came in this morning and he was gone.”

Yeeun hummed over the phone. “I’m sorry, honey. Maybe you and the puppy just weren’t meant to be.” She said, trying her best to comfort you about the adoption that fell through. “Do you still think of him? Kim Yugyeom?” Yeeun asked gently.

You sighed, catching a brief glimpse of your reflection on the windows of a cold noodle restaurant a few doors down from the adoption centre. To this day, you couldn’t enjoy a bowl of naengmyeon without your mind wandering to the boy. “Not often. Honestly, Eun, every time I think I’ve forgotten him, I’ll see something that reminds me of him and he’ll just creep back into my head.”

“You know what they always say, darling. You never really forget your first love.”

You mulled over her words as you rounded the corner towards the adoption centre, Daisy trotting a few paces in front of you. “I wouldn’t call it love, per se, it’s just-”

“Wait, hold that thought,” She interrupted. “I’m sorry honey, the boyfriend is at the door. Do you mind if we continue this later?”

“Yeah, sure, I need to go too.” You stood at the entrance of the centre, reluctant to go in and part ways with Daisy. The dog came to a rest by your feet, huddling close. “Thanks for calling and reminding me of my poor life choices!” You said, full of sarcasm.

“Hey, that’s my duty as your best friend, don’t mention it.” She chuckled. “Oh, and Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember what I said. Go live a little, okay? You’ve already wasted too much time on Kim Yugyeom.”

“Yeah, I will.” You mumbled, agreeing with her words. “Go enjoy yourself with the boyfriend. Not too much though, and spare me the details. Talk next time!”

The two of you bid each other farewell and ended the call. Miraculously, talking to Yeeun made your chest a little lighter. Amongst countless other things, she had been there for you during Yugyeom’s abrupt departure and the initial stages of denial. She helped you draft, edit, and re-edit the numerous emails you sent to the boy, the only form of communication between you two for the first six months. She hugged you close and let you sulk on her shoulder when the emails suddenly stopped seven months after he left for Incheon. You were beyond grateful to have her as a voice of reason amongst your irrational thoughts; someone to walk with you hand in hand through the storms of life.

You made a mental note to ask your mother to send Yeeun a parcel of her prized kimchi as part of next month’s delivery. The girl never failed to mention how much she missed your parent’s cooking whenever the two of you talked on the phone.

All of a sudden, a high-pitched bark travelled across the street. You instinctively tightened your hold on Daisy’s leash, wary of the arrival of another canine. Cautiously, you watched as a four-legged, black ball of fur whizzed past the empty street, arriving before you and Daisy in a matter of seconds. As the dog grew closer and closer, recognition flashed across your mind as you noticed the dog’s distinctive white collar, a stark contrast to his coal black fur. The dog you intended to adopt this morning was wagging his tail and panting by your feet, letting out occasional playful barks at Daisy, his former neighbour. You bent down, arm reaching out to get a feel for his oh-so-soft fur–

“Dal!” A male voice, bright and awfully familiar, exclaimed between heavy breaths. “Dal, slow down, big boy! Daddy can’t…” The voice died down a notch, reducing to a whisper as its owner’s feet entered your line of sight. His entire body shaded your crouched figure from the afternoon sunshine that peeked through the clouds. “Catch up.”

A moment of silence ensued as your eyes panned upwards, scanning a pair of long legs covered in ripped jeans, then a yellow plaid shirt that was haphazardly tucked in, right up to the owner’s face. You couldn’t help the sharp gasp leaving your lips. 

Standing before you was none other than Kim Yugyeom himself. His features were more defined than ever, his wavy hair a silvery shade of platinum blonde and his ears adorned with a pair of silver hoop earrings. A single stainless-steel drop earring dangled from his earlobe, its bottom decorated with a half-crescent moon and a star. You stood there and stared at the boy you once knew, now a fine young man, just taking him in. You noticed the lack of cuts and scars on his unblemished, fully healed face. You spotted the beauty mark right under his right eye, standing out against his fair skin. You watched, mesmerised, as his lips twitched to form a slightly sheepish grin, while the tips of his ears burned and glowed into a striking shade of cherry red. Yugyeom’s eyes widened in mild surprise, his gaze lingering on your face for a few stretched out seconds before wandering away, then returning back.          

Him… It’s him… He’s here, in Seoul? But I thought he was supposed to be in Incheon, with Mark. What is he doing here? And how did he…? Your never-ending stream of thoughts swirled inside your head at an alarming rate, and you felt the onset of a splitting headache crawl up your temples.

“There you are, Y/N.” Yugyeom said finally, releasing a satisfied sigh and an airy laugh. He didn’t seem nearly half as surprised as you felt under these unlikely circumstances. In fact, you thought that the expression he wore on his face morphed into one of relief instead. “After so long, I finally found you.” He bent down to scoop the black puppy into his arms, leaving you utterly stunned. Before your mind could process the meaning behind his words, however, he suggested, “Let’s talk inside,”, gesturing towards the entrance of the adoption café. 

You gave him a meek nod, not daring to let out a sound on the off chance that you would stumble over your words and make a fool out of yourself. With the manners of a gentleman, Yugyeom held the door open for you and waited patiently as you ushered an excited Daisy into the café filled with her furry friends. He took confident, quick strides towards the barista standing behind the counter, much like the first time he had walked into your parents’ restaurant. The way he carried himself, with an air of calm coolness, had not changed at all. You followed closely behind, struggling to keep up with his bigger steps.

“Hello, noona.” He greeted the lady, friendly and warm. “Can I please get an Iced Choco and…?” Yugyeom turned to you expectantly.

“Uh…” You started, soft and uncertain. “A peach iced tea, please.”

“No longer a coffee addict, huh?” He teased, unable to contain his toothy smile. Yugyeom retrieved his wallet from his back pocket and held out his card to pay. It was then that you noticed, quite belatedly, the yellow Rilakuma plaster wrapped tightly around his left index finger.

Your mind began to race. You were unbelievably happy that even after three years, he still stuck to the same brand of bandages, but at the same time, fear and anxiety gnawed and scratched against your chest. All this time, was it still happening? You wondered silently. Surely… “What’s… What’s with your,” You gestured vaguely towards his appendages. “Your finger?” You squeaked.

“Ah,” Yugyeom glanced briefly towards the yellow plaster, paying it little to no mind. “Come, sit down first, okay?”

“No,” You replied with a firm tone that you rarely used. You were a little taken aback yourself. “I’ve spent the past three years worried sick about you. Don’t you at least owe me an explanation about your most recent injury?”

Yugyeom sensed your insistence and determination, knowing that there really was no use trying to convince you otherwise. “It’s nothing to worry about, Y/N, trust me, I’ll show-”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Let me see.”

“Look, it’s just a small cut, okay?” You raised an eyebrow at his description. From memory, his definition of a small cut was miles apart from yours. He took a step closer, hoping to persuade you. “Here,” Yugyeom peeled away the sticky fabric with little difficulty, revealing a thin slit that already closed up. “See? It’s tiny. I was cooking the other day and the knife just sort of slipped and nicked my finger. I told you, don’t worry about me.”

Still, you were unwilling to let him off the hook so easily. “Kim Yugyeom? Cooking? Are you sure that’s safe?”

“Perhaps not the safest…” He admitted with an embarrassed rub of his neck, leading you towards an empty table by the windows. “I just really, really missed your mother’s food. Her naengmyeon especially. I’ve tasted every single naengmyeon in Incheon and Seoul and honestly, nothing comes close. I even tried to cook it myself but, well… You can guess how that turned out.”

“What made you think that your naengmyeon could be better than a restaurant’s?” You questioned jokingly, earning yourself a faked wince of pain from Yugyeom as he clutched the right side of his chest, the wrong side.

After that, it was like the words couldn’t stop flowing out of your mouths. He told you about how he caught a glimpse of your adoption papers during his interview for Dalkyum, the black puppy, and recognised your photo. He confessed that he was initially drawn to Dalkyum due to his sheer resemblance to Charcoal, to which you agreed wholeheartedly. He moved to Seoul late last year to study Fine Arts at the Korea National University of Arts, and you revealed that you were studying to become a vet. He explained how half a year after moving to Incheon, Mark had accidentally downloaded a virus onto their shared laptop while gaming, rendering it broken beyond repair. He didn’t write down your email address and thanks to his goldfish memory, he forgot the entire string of letters once Mark found a replacement.

It seemed like the more you talked to Yugyeom, the more you felt the icy shards of pain and sorrow around your heart melt away. Although, that could probably be because he was looking at you with the brightest of expressions, his mouth permanently fixed into a wide, million-watt smile.

“What do you think? Shall we start over?” You asked after a lull in the conversation, taking a sip of the soothing, saccharine liquid.

“No, I’d rather we pick up where we left off, but with a proper introduction.” He extended his arm for you to shake, which you did with a light scoff and an upturn of your lips. “Hello, my name is Kim, Yu, Gyeom. Kim for gold, Yu, which means to have, and Gyeom, as in humble or modest. It’s nice to meet you again, Y/N. You look beautiful today, as always. Did you know that? I can’t stop myself from being drawn to you, but I guess some things never change.”

“I… What…?” You sputtered hopelessly, reigniting the butterflies in your stomach. “Yugyeom, I’m literally in an old t-shirt and baggy shorts.”

“Doesn’t matter to me, Y/N.”

//

“There’s another thing that never changed, which unfortunately was also out of my control.”

“Oh no, what else, Kim?”

“I’m sorry to tell you this so late, Y/N, but sadly, you were and are my first love. And you see, the thing about first loves is that no matter how hard you try, you simply can’t-”

“Forget them.”

“Exactly. Trust me, I tried.”

“Yeah, I tried too, so hard. I guess you weren’t meant to be forgotten. Or I guess we weren’t meant to forget each other.”

“First loves stick with you like a scar that can never be fully healed.”

“Wow, look at you, Kim! I’m impressed, you’ve become so poetic.”

“From now on, I’ll only write poems for you.”

[aromantic-romance-writer]

Kyojuro Rengoku x Fem! Reader

[Rekindle the Flame Inside Your Heart]

U M A I

That's basically the only word to explain why I wanted to make this for Rengobro-

I don't really have much info of when he was young, or just don't remember some details so uhhh a headcanon-?

Either way, I hope you enjoy!

WARNING: Very slight manga spoilers ahead!

How many times have he seen you on the same bed, in the same room already?

Kyojuro just came back from a mission. He was injured, but nothing really big. Just sprained his hand a little. But he knew injuries would be in the way of his missions if he doesn't treat them immediately.

But this was the fifth time he sees you at the Butterfly Estate already. And he doesn't even come here that often.

You never changed since the first time he saw you. You were sitting on the bed, head wrapped in a bandage, and staring at the wall. He decides to finally ask Shinobu about this.

"Oh, her." She says, her tone sounding pitiful. She finishes wrapping the bandage around his wrist and starts cleaning up. "She's never left. It's been 5 months since her last mission. It was horrible, really."

"A demon was able to wipe out her comrades with a blood demon art. She was able to kill him, but she was badly injured. She couldn't stop crying for a week. The poor thing..." She's finally finished cleaning up and faces him. It was kind of obvious in her tone that she wanted you leave already, but she doesn't have the heart to ask you. "You have to rest your hand for at least 48 hours, and you have to take this medicine after--"

"Kocho." Kyojuro cuts her off, but his smile doesn't waver. "May I spend those hours here?"

° ° °

At this point, why are you even alive?

It's been 5 months. Why are you being pathetic? You must be a really big burden to Kocho-san already. Stop being weak. Stop mourning over te past. You've killed the demon, right? Shouldn't you be happy? He wasn't gonna terrorize anyone anymore. No more people will be killed. You saved everyone. You also saved the demon from himself.

But your comrades. You couldn't save them.

The memory was still so vivid and horrifying. The memory turned into a nightmare, it was refusing to let you sleep.

It was refusing to let you rest.

You were so deep in your thoughts, you didn't even notice someone sitting beside your bed.

The person snapped his fingers in front of you. You snap your head around to see -

"R-Rengoku-san?!" you quickly bow down to show respect to the Flame Pillar. "W-what are you doing here?"

He gave a hearty laugh. "I would just like to have a little chat!" he says cheerfully. You sweat, you'll go blind from his radiant smile. "I've seen you many many times already, so I thought that I introduce myself if we'll ve seeing each other that often."

"But I know who you are already..."

"Nope!" you were startled at his exuberant response. "You only know my name, but not who I am."

You blink. Well, he's right. But what exactly is the reason for a pillar to talk to a low-ranking demon slayer such as yourself?

"Speak to me like I'm just a friend, and not a pillar!" his eyes sparkled with an unusual determination. You were sure none of your friends are as eccentric as him. "I'm Rengoku Kyojuro! You can call me by my first name!"

You stare down at your hands in diffidence. Are you not allowed to just run away? But you don't leave your bed unless necessary. Maybe you should just go with it, he is a pillar after all. But he said to treat him as a friend. Wait, what friend exactly?

You cut off your thoughts and raise your head, pink hues covering your cheeks. "N-nice to meet you, Kyojuro-kun! I-I'm [Y/N]!" you stutter in exclaim, your eyes glinting with clear confusion. But you admit that this is quite fun.

Kyojuro seemed to smile wider. "Okay, [Y/N]! What do you like to eat?"

° ° °

Kyojuro-kun.

Kyojuro-kun.

The name kept repeating in his head. He talked with you for hours. You've been calling him that name in those hours and he can't help but feel something warm inside him other than his flaring passion as a demon slayer.

He also learned a lot of interests that didn't suit the you when he first saw you. He realized that you were just this bubbly person who likes to get into trouble sometimes, but you're very compassionate about demons.

That's why you only blame yourself for their deaths and not the demon.

You were depressed. You couldn't save them. Kyojuro knew the feeling. But he wants to make you realize that it wasn't your fault. That whenever the sun would set, it would rise again the next day.

Your sun hasn't risen for such a long time, but he'll make it rise, he thought as passion flared his heart.

° ° °

Even after Kyojuro left the Butterfly Estate as his hand has completely healed, a day won't go by without him visiting you. He claims that he was free, so it was alright.

You still have no idea what and why he talked to you in the first place that day, but you were glad he did.

His smile was so infectious that you'd forget how sadness feels like. His bright and lively personality reminded you how to be happy.

Everyday, he would eat beside you and tell you how his day went. If he went on a mission the previous day, he always makes sure he finishes it as early as he can so he can visit you the next day and tell you all about it. You honestly missed going outside in your demon slayer uniform, but Kyojuro makes that feeling go away.

You couldn't leave yet, even thought you knew you would have to, eventually. But you're rooted here for some reason, and once you remember that, all the happiness would go away because once the moon rises, all of it will come back washing over you.

The nightmares. The tears. The regret. The guilt.

The blood.

Why won't it go away? Why is it still haunting your dreams? Why can't you move on?

You woke, sweating and gasping and crying as usual. The same thing would happen every morning; it's like a part of your day-to-day routine now.

You forget that someone is part of that routine as well.

That day, Kyojuro visited early and caught you in that state. You widen your eyes in horror to meet the eyes of the Flame Pillar.

Why is he here so early? You didn't want him to see you in that state.

He rushes over to you, eyes that were used to be so energetic now full of worry.

"[Y/N]! Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?" He throws his questions at you like daggers you can't dodge. All you could do was cover your face with your hands and cry.

Why are you like this? Why are you crying in front of him? Why aren't you saying anything?

The questions quickly vanished from your mind as you can feel broad arms wrap around you into a hug. Your head was resting on his chest. You feel your face grow warm. His steady heartbeat was audible as it calmed you.

After a while, both of you were outside and sitting on the engawa. You have washed your face and decided to tell him what happened 5 months ago.

It was weird to you. You're actually saying what happened and it was your mouth. But your features were calm. Not even a single tear. Did you finally run out tears? Are you finally numb?

When you finished, you felt as if something that was crushing your chest disappeared. Like it was never there. It's like you can breathe properly again.

The silence goes on for a few minutes, before Kyojuro speaks. "[Y/N]."

You turn to him. He was looking at you with such a fierce look. You admit he looked kind of scary.

"It's not your fault. It's never your fault. I'm sure you're comrades always wanted to say that to you." he finally turns his whole body towards you. "You're strong and human, and you can only do so much. You saved a lot of people from that demon. You also saved the demon from himself."

"Relight the flame of your heart - the heart of a demon slayer! Stand back up like how the burning sun would rise every morning. Even without you, your comrades are putting their hands on your back - putting their faith in you! For their sake, draw your sword and protect the weak from the evil by my side!"

You blink. The passionate speech moved you. He has a point. You're a demon slayer. You can't back down. You have to protect loads more of people. You have to save loads more of demons.

Your dull world was suddenly scorched in fire. Such beautiful colors flooded your vision, but for some reason, all you see was Kyojuro.

Then you realized that your flame has been relit already. It was just a tiny flame, so you didn't notice.

But that day, along with his loud introduction, barged into your heart to light a match.

"I mean...!" you snap out of your thoughts to see Kyojuro red in the face, but he was still smiling. "You don't have to do all the beside me! You can do it on your own! You don't need me! You're strong by yourself, so--"

You started laughing. At first, ut was a small snort until you bursted unto tears while laughing. "Oh, Kyo!" you finally calm down, wiping the tears from your face. You smile at a very red and confused Kyojuro. "Thank you. I would like to fight by your side as well."

~

You were dreading that your uniform might not fit anymore, since you haven't worn it for 5 months. But you gave a big sigh of relief when you were able to slip into it without ripping any if its sides.

"Kyo-kun!" the brazen haired pillar turned to see you. His eyes sparkled with adoration. It was an endearing sight for him. "I'm ready to train!"

He stares at you for a while, before crouching to move a stray hair from your face and tucked it behind your ear. "Don't let any of your hair in the way! It'll be difficult to train that way." his smile widens as he walks away, leaving you paralyzed and flustered. "And make sure to show your pretty face all the time!"

You run after him as you try to calm your heart down. What the hell was that?

And so, you trained under his supervision. You've changed and it was all thanks to Kyojuro. You were back to your usual self, but with more determination to go on missions.

Kyojuro has changed as well. You weren't sure if it was a good change or a bad change, but surely it must be bad since the outcome would always be you getting flustered?

But because of this change, you can't help but grow romantic feelings for the guy. Everything he's doing, you have no clue why he does it.

"Hah!" you pointed the wooden sword at him as he fell on the ground. "What happened? I don't think I actually beat you."

He grabs the other end of the wooden sword. "My aplogies! I got distracted. You're unusually pretty today." Your eyes widen. Another flirt? Again? You turn away in attempt to avoid his stare at your very red face. And because of this, you accidentally let your guard down. He notices and pulls the sword, making you fall on top of him.

Your face was inches from his. You swear, he can feel your heart beating out of your chest too fast. His radiant smile turned into a cocky one, only making your temperature rise. "Or maybe you should be the one apologizing for that?" he says in a low tone.

Fuck.

Fuck.

You quickly try to move away, but he doesn't let you. In fact, he only draws you closer to him by the waist. "Why are you escaping? You did this to me, [Y/N], how can you expect me to just let it go?"

"K-kyo, what's the meaning of this?" you timidly ask. The tone in your voice was obvious that you were begging him to stop.

He finally lets you go and sits in an indian position. He gives you time to cool off and calm yourself before he speaks. "[Y/N]." he says in a serious tone, making you snap towards him and sit with a perfect posture. Despite these little mishaps, you never forget where you're place is.

He breathes deeply, feeling his own heart beating out of his chest. "I like you."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Kyojuro just sits there, smiling again. "I'm afraid I can't say it again."

You heard it clearly the first time, you were just making sure you weren't deluding yourself or hearing things. You weren't sure whether to jump in joy or drown yourself in the river. "Am I in any position to hit you as of this moment?"

His smile widens. "You have a position in my heart. Is that okay?"

"Kyo!"

He laughs. "I'm really sorry, [Y/N]. I can't help myself. I just really like you."

You play with your hair as you avert your gaze, your cheeks covered in pink blush. It sent weird sparks to his heart to see such an adorable sight. "I-I like you too, Kyo..."

He was still smiling, but his eyes widen in shock. "You do?"

"Don't make me repeat what I said! It's embarassing enough as it is."

He holds your hand, making you look at him. He wore his warmest of smiles. "That makes me really really happy, [Y/N]."

~

So you did fight side-by-side when you're asked to go on a joint mission, but he mostly tried to protect you and wouldn't let you fight. You were happy together and had this amazing chemistry everyone admired, even on the battlefield. You were both very happy together and supported each other to this very day.

Even when he was gone.

° ° °

The boy sitting in front of you sniffled, wiping his tears with his green and black checkered haori. His demon sister patted his back as she also felt emotional herself.

"Er, should I get you some water?" you chuckle lightly.

They both shake their heads as they finished wiping their tears away. "Your love story is so touching, [L/N]-san! I'm sorry I couldn't protect him..." he lowers his head, gripping his uniform's trousers very tightly.

You notice this and wrap his hand around yours. He looks up to you just in time before he cries again.

"Tanjiro," You say with the warmest tone you can give him. "Do me a favor and smile."

He blinks cluelessly. "R-right now?"

You laugh lightly. "If you feel like it. Remember to smile even if it seems all hope is lost. Even in your darkest days, never forget to smile again. The sun sets, but it also rises. Be like the sun, Tanjiro, and give the weak the hope and light that they need.

"Be the match that will rekindle the flame inside their hearts, and until then, smile once more. Set your heart ablaze, Tanjiro, Nezuko."

He and Nezuko stares at you, but you trust that they understand.

By the entrance of your home, the kind boy bows. "I almost forgot! Rengoku-san wanted me to give this to you." he hands you a letter with your name written with his familiar hand-writing. "Thank you for everything, [L/N]-san!"

You wave at him as he walks away. You waited until his figure was as small as an ant before going back inside.

You sit on the engawa and open the letter.

"Be the happiest as you can be, [Y/N]. When I pass, find someone else. Make sure that person can protect you. You'll always be my flame."

A single tear streamed accross your face.

"I am the happiest that I can be, Kyo. And it's all because of that day when you revived the fire in my heart." you say, hugging the letter close to your chest.

Right where the fire is flickering.

Never realized how much Rengobro's death affected me when I started reasearching about him for this.

[the-omni-princess]

Frozen Heart [Chapter 12]

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary:  After the war against Hydra, King Bucky comes home to take what has been promised to him since he was young, you. But he is not the same person as the young boy that you grew up with. Can she break through his tough shell and bring back the young man she once fell in love with? Or will she be forced to marry the monster everyone thinks he’s become?

Word Count: 3.1K

Pairing: King!Bucky x Fem!Reader (Royalty Au!)

Warnings: Torture, violence, language, ANGST, blood, injuries, major and minor character death, GORE, a hint of fluff

A/N:

Honestly some nasty stuff in the death and blood department. If that’s not your cup of tea, I can give you the rundown without the gore.

-

[Series Masterlist]  [Masterlist]

----

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since you had shut those stupid doors to save him. Bucky had become a shell again, cold lifeless eyes, the only emotion that would show being anger. Steve hadn't seen him like that since his parents died. Steve had already told everyone that when it came down to it, fight, survive, and stay out of Bucky's way. He knew his best friend would tear into anyone that got in his way. Aurora and Raine had also been getting restless, as had Dermot. They knew something was up, as they hadn't seen you in weeks.

The troops from multiple kingdoms were ready and had started pushing Hydra forces back out of their own respective counties, but they couldn't figure out where they had taken you. New flash drives showed up, and Bucky watched every single one, letting the guilt wash over him as he saw them hurt you. Steve sat beside him, feeling guilt despite not even being in the same country when they took you. No. When you let them take you. Steve knew you better than that. He knew you must have seen something for the rash decision, and his suspicion was confirmed by Natasha after both Kings broke down in the War Room. "Seeing her scream again isn't going to do anything, Buck," The blonde looked towards his best friend, both sharing an equally pained look. Torturing yourself won’t help you. He wanted to say, but he knew better.

"There's literally nothing to do. I watered the plants in her greenhouse, so they wouldn't die. Checked in on Raine and Aura and Dermot, all three aren't doing well without her. Troops are ready to move the second we need them too, but we don't have a location. I'm missing something in these, I know it. They changed locations again and these videos are more recent. I'll figure it out." His eyes locked onto the figure of you on the screen, this time with a knife being pressed into your side, dangerously close to your stomach. As you screamed in pure agony, Bucky felt his heart drop, and yet he re-watched the video, over and over and over again.

Steve paused the video, sighing, exhausted from the lack of sleep. "Is there anything else, any clue she could have left?" He could see the flashes of emotions running through Bucky’s face. The guilt, shame, grief, fury, then finally a small glimpse of hope.

Bucky saw something. It was random, small and unnoticeable, but the way you tapped your fingers against the metal chair looked familiar. He gasped, clawing out of the chair and pressing play on the remote as he ripped it from Steve's hands. His eyes bore into your fingers, and Steve saw his friend smile for the first time in weeks. "Gods, she's an absolute genius!" He cried out, already shooting a text in the group chat for everyone to meet in the War Room.

Steve looked up at him, confused, "Care to explain?"

Nat was the first through the door, Wanda and Sam at her heels just as Bucky started to write out letters on a piece of paper. Steve moved beside him, and it clicked. "Morse code!" The room started to fill with the diplomats, Shuri glancing through the other videos to see you tapping more messages.

"She picked up a Morse code book in October, I knew she was learning but gods she picked it up fast," Bucky mumbled, rushing through an explanation. You had been giving them any information you realized, all through taps against the very chains that binded you. It was then Scott ran in, another flash drive in hand. Everyone in the room paled as they saw it, they knew their deadline to a decision was rapidly approaching.

Scott plugged the drive in, not waiting for instruction to start the video. You looked absolutely terrible still, yet with the new revelation of your secret messages, Bucky didn't focus on your new wounds, but the taps your fingers were giving. You were in a new space, and the video looked recent by the stages the bruises on your body were in.

Bucky scribbled out the last letter, just as the video started to replay. He stopped it, a wicked grin lighting up his features. "Call the troops to arms, I know exactly where they have her." Aurora looked up from her spot by the fire, sensing Bucky's mood shift as her ears perked up. "That is one spot they had me. She found my scratches on the cell wall, I used to draw on the cell walls to pass time, and she has been tapping exactly what place she's in." He tossed the paper in the middle of the table. The words spelt out 'Second Star 2 the Right.' At second glance to every paper written there they all had a description of some engraving written in them.

"So, who's coming to fight?" Steve spoke up; it was obvious both he and Bucky would be going. Natasha, Wanda, and Sam all stood at the same time. Choruses of "Me," "I will," and an enthusiastic "Lets kick Hydra's butt!" From Tony, all present at the table stood, ready to fight.

Aurora yipped, standing beside Bucky, he rubbed her ears, "Let's bring her home, Aura."

-

It was dark, that's all you really knew. A new cell, this one was a bit nicer than most others, because you knew something your captors didn't. You ran you hand against the wall, finding the two stars carved into the stone, it made you smile. Second star to the right and straight on ‘till morning. Bucky's favorite story as a child was Peter Pan, and even in the face of torture, he clung onto the story. And Hydra, in their sick and twisted minds, thought it would be perfect to toss you into the cage that once held your fiancé.

Rumlow stormed in, and you winced from the sudden influx of light. "Let’s go princess," he dragged you up, roughly grabbing onto your shoulder. You limped as you were hauled, being pushed in front of him and now in front of Alexander Pierce. His hand clamped onto your arm, jerking you in front of him as he pressed a dagger to your stomach. As someone pounded onto the door, you realized you just became a human shield. Metal hit against the metal door and your heart jumped up to your throat. Bucky.

The door finally gave way, blowing straight off its hinges. Bucky stood there, in a navy-blue uniform stained in red, you realized a second later he was wearing his Howling Commandos uniform. He wanted to be seen from a mile away. Growling brought your attention to the white wolf at his feet. Aurora had blood coating her snow-white fur, her haunches back, and golden eyes focused onto the knife against you. Steve was right behind Bucky, but you could only tell that due to the red and blue of his uniform reflecting off of Bucky's metal arm.

"Well I'd say this is a lovely reunion, but my dead men outside would beg to differ," Rumlow spoke just behind you, using you as a shield as well. They must have been caught off guard, neither men that held you had a gun, unlike the two men at the door.

"Let her go, and I'll kill you both quickly," Bucky growled, voice low, teeth bared. This was a side of Bucky you'd only heard the stories of. The Winter Soldier, The White Wolf. Cold, calculating, lethal. He looked every part like the fearsome feral wolf coming to exact revenge like in the stories you two used to read when you were younger about his Kingdom’s mythologies.

The knife dug a little deeper into your side, making you gulp faintly. Bucky’s eyes glanced towards it for a split second before shooting back at your captors. The blue in his eyes looked more like ice than normal, and that’s when you started to fully take him in. The slight puffiness in his cheeks, dark sunken circles around his eyes, his chestnut hair grown out a bit more, a gruffy beard back in place. He had not been taking care of himself in your absence. You wanted to rush forward and hold him, tell him you were alright, that he was alright, that everything would be okay. Yet the dagger against your womb held you still, the silent threat enough to give you pause. It wasn’t just you anymore, you would have to be more careful than reckless.

“I’m not a fool, you killed every last man outside. We, and the Princess will be leaving. I don’t know how you found us, but the rest of my armies are on their way. Try anything and my hand just might slip.” Pierce’s voice made you wince, the vibrations as he held you against his chest made your stomach turn.

“I told them,” you spat out, a wicked grin curling your busted lip up. You looked a little worse for wear, and you were terribly faint, the man behind you having to practically hold your weight just to keep you standing, but you were not helpless. A week into your torture is when you finally found your escape route, and promptly planned for this exact moment. You weren’t foolish enough to believe it would be easy, however, you knew you could use a few things to your advantage. Surprise, adrenaline, and your own will to survive.

“What do you mean you told them? You’ve been chained up in a cell the past two weeks!” Rumlow sounded off, the surprise in his voice was not hidden well.

You managed a weak chuckle, your voice hoarse from weeks of screaming and crying and pain yet you pushed that away to increase your breathing. “You didn’t just underestimate them,” Your heart rate was increasing, the steady beat turning erratic as your heart practically pounded against your chest. Your vision tunneled as your pupils dilated, your body tensing like a viper about to strike. This wasn’t just a fight for your own survival, but a fight to save the life growing in you. To save your family.

Bucky, ever the observant, was practically on the same wavelength as you. He had a wicked smirk on his lips, pride running through his eyes as you two locked eyes; he watched as you kicked your knees out from under you. Already weak from lack of food or water and the torture, it was easy to fall onto your knees, ignoring the searing pain that radiated up your knees from hitting the concrete hard, your thin clothes given to you by Hydra did nothing to protect you. The movement caught Pierce off guard, and he went tumbling forward as he tried to catch you to shield himself, eyes wide as the momentum made him topple over. In his haste to catch you and then catch himself before he fell onto his face, he dropped his dagger. He fell right onto his knees, and right in front of Bucky and staring down the bared teeth of a wolf.

You lurched forward, grabbing the dagger and you didn’t hesitate to throw it blindly behind you. It sunk into Rumlow’s thigh with a sick gush of blood. He yelped in surprise, tripping backward onto his ass. You smirked, tired and in pain, but now so close to freedom. “You also underestimated me.”

Pierce growled, reaching to grab onto you before he was pulled up by his collar by Bucky. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” His wolfish smile set with the timbre of his gruff voice sent a shiver down your spine. If you weren’t already on your knees, you’d probably fall onto them anyway at the sound of his voice. Pierce was tossed onto the floor, Bucky taking a tentative step towards you as Steve grabbed onto Pierce, both men looking at the disgraced king with disgust and pure malice. He couldn’t be killed right away; his death would have to wait until the newly dubbed Avengers outside knew what to do with the rest of the Hydra lands and it’s starving people.

Your knees buckled, the rush of fight-or-flight leaving your system, the adrenaline parting, causing your body to speed up again. You fell forward onto your hands, still dazed as your vision blurred. Bucky rushed forward but he was too slow, still a few steps away from you as Rumlow lurched towards you, recovering from the shock of the dagger still lodged into his thigh. A low growl set off as you saw a flurry of white launch at the man. His screams echoed in the room as Aurora ripped into the hand that came too close to you, and as you looked over you could see the blood gushing from his wrist, and you knew the pale white splotch in the wound was his exposed bone, splintered as wolf teeth gnawed into it. You placed a hand on Aurora’s hide, the wolf instantly releasing her death grip on the now defenseless man to sit beside you with a whimper. You wrapped your fingers around the dagger in Rumlow’s thigh, turning it, a revolting sense of satisfaction filling you as he howled in pain. “You are all idiots. I’ve been sending them messages through Morse Code for a week, and you were too busy getting yourself off to small cuts in my skin to even notice. You may have weakened me, but I’m a phoenix princess, and when I’m reborn through the ashes, I’ll be the Wolf Queen.” You twisted the dagger once more, snarling as the man looked up at you in shock and horror.

“Why wait, Princess? You could have killed us all before we pumped that blue stuff in you to weaken you.” Rumlow tried to put on a brave face, but he trembled, seeing you flash him a wolfish grin, the ice in your eyes as you regarded him as he clung to his bleeding and barley attached right hand.

“There are a thousand men outside these walls. I am not foolish enough to believe I could have fought them all, so instead, I out smarted you all.” With the last bit of your strength, you yanked the dagger lodged into his thigh out, blood spurting out instantly. You tilted you head, watching the blood pool around him, you had hit his femoral artery. “You’ll die. Alone, afraid, with no one to help you. Just like how your own people die every day in your kingdom.” You swallowed, your dry throat made the words hoarse, but you still spoke, letting revenge and anger cloud your mind. Your mind finally caught onto sanity just as Rumlow’s body hit the floor, his life seeping away from him. The dagger clinked against the concrete as it fell from your hands, blood coating the thin fabric around you that left little to the imagination, blood dripping down your hands. The still somewhat sane part of your mind felt sick that you could kill this man that lay dying on the ice-cold ground. Yet, you made your peace with it. It was necessary. It was survival.

Slowly, the clouds in your mind dispersed, becoming aware of the wolf whose head was in your lap, feeling the vibrations of her whining softly to get your attention. Big arms were around your shoulders, filling your chest with warmth and love. Bucky. Your Northern Star. Slowly regaining your senses one by one, your hearing was next, hearing Aurora’s whines as you ran your blood-soaked hands through her fur without thought, hearing Bucky’s words in your ear. He sounded pained, relieved, joyful even as he whispered pet names and sweet nothings. “Y/n/n? Doll? Come back to me, My Love.” That was the catalyst to the rest of your senses flooding you.

Bucky came back into focus, hands moving to cup your face gently. You could see the fresh wave of tears in his eyes as he looked at you like you hung the very moon in the sky every night. You could taste the cooper of blood in your mouth as you licked your dry lips, salt from your own tears made you realize you were crying as well.

You could smell the metal and blood and gun powder off of him, and something else. It was faint, but you could smell a hint of your favorite cologne on him. That sent more tears careening down your cheeks; he was here. He was really here. His smile lit up his face, seeing the recognition and life glimmer back into your eyes. “There’s my girl. My Queen, My Love, My World, My Star” his voice broke, and despite the weariness pulling at your bones, you pressed your hand against his cheek. The faint move smeared blood onto his cheek, but he leaned into your touch, letting his eyes close as he gathered the courage to move or speak again. “Let’s bring you home, doll,” he whispered softly against your palm. “Both of you,” he added, his flesh hand resting against your stomach.

In a swift move he picked you up bridal style. Frail, you couldn’t even cling onto him. You felt pathetic, but you didn’t really care, you were finally safe. Burying your face into his chest sent a warmth through you, making you smile dimly. “I love you,” you murmured quietly, now safe, your mind was at ease, tugging you towards the sleep that had evaded you for weeks.

“I love you too.” He kissed your head with pure adoration, clinging onto you as his life depended on it. You fell asleep easily in his arms, finally coming home. You didn’t see as he stepped over more than one mangled corpse on his way out, Steve right behind him tugging a tied up and frankly terrified Pierce. Aurora stayed at Bucky’s heels, never straying as they left the building.

Pierce glanced to the side, managing to see the corpse of Zola. Even dead his face was frozen in fear, his neck and chest a bloody mangled mess of deep gashes. Some looked clean cut, a sword perhaps, but the ripped-out throat was too rough to be done with a knife or sword. No, that was the wolf. The fact that the men that did that all for the woman in Bucky’s arms, the very woman that just killed his commanding officer as if it was child’s play, were currently dragging him away made the disgraced king shudder. He realized his fate was sealed the day he ordered his men to take you. He realized that mistake too late.

----

Tags:

Frozen Heart Tags:

@jsmith509 / @lumar014 / @littlemissporter / @kaylaphantomhive  

@damnbuckyishot / @aveatquevale- / @booksbeforebois  

@marvelgirl7 / @minetticatinwonderland  

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings  / @darkness-doughter / @novaddictx / @thedancingnerdmermaid

For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3

[maliwarm]

Husk

They’ve taken everyone I know And now I walk these empty streets alone … They’ve erased everyone I know And still I walk these empty streets alone - AU idea: X. - “Watch it, kid!” “Sorry,” K’ mumbled, tweaking his cap at the man as a sign of apology. The motion did a fine job of drawing attention away from the wallet he was slipping into his coat pocket. He weaved through the rest of the crowd quick and quiet, head down; blending in amongst the crush and putting some distance between them before the man became aware of his theft. K’ then veered down an alley, slipping further in to use the shadows and dumpster as cloaks while he flicked through the pilfered wallet. The yield was roughly 8,700 yen and a couple of pictures of who must’ve been the man’s kids. He closed the wallet again with an abrupt snap, hiding the gap-toothed grins so his chest would stop twinging. He’d make an effort to drop the wallet into the nearest police station after he got himself something to eat. With hands jammed deep in his pockets, and cap shadowing his eyes, K’ shuffled back out and into the crush of the crowd. Both the garbs had been “borrowed” in much the same manner as the wallet; the coat had been snagged off somebody’s washing line, and the cap had sat, seemingly abandoned, inside a bus shelter. They did a fine job of hiding his shock of white hair and trademark leather. As well as the myriad of bruises and abrasions marring his skin. K’s left hand slipped out to pinch the skin between his exhausted eyes. He might have to find somewhere to hunker down for the night. Between being dogged by NESTS agents at every turn, and the extreme paranoia that plagued him whenever he did actually manage to evade them… he’d been putting off getting some shut-eye for too long. He’d already blacked out a couple of times yesterday - in safe spots, luckily - but he wasn’t keen on suffering any further repeats. Particularly in less safe situations. So, yeah. He was definitely finding somewhere to curl up and nap tonight. A hotel, or behind a dumpster, even. Just… whatever was available, at this point.

The convenience store chimed at his entrance, the clerk offering him a tired but nonetheless friendly smile as he stepped through the threshold. K’ offered her a slight nod by way of greeting before making a beeline straight towards the snack isle. Two bags of jerky - extra spicy - were snagged right away, followed by some wasabi peas. K’s thickly bandaged right fingers (to hide the telltale gauntlet) hovered over the rows of jerky again, seeking a third bag, until bright red packaging caught his eye. He brought the box up for inspection, faltering at the image of little cookie sticks dipped in chocolate. Oh. It was pocky… After a moment’s internal debate he added the sweets to the pile, gently stacking them atop the saltier snacks, before snagging a bottle of water and heading back to the counter. “Pocky, huh?” The clerk smiled at him between ringing up his purchases and bagging them. “Bit of a funny choice, considering all that salt you got there.”

“… My friend likes it,” K’ mumbled. Didn’t look up from watching the girl’s hands going through the motions with practiced ease. She paused briefly. Chuckled. “Ah. That explains it then.” K’ hummed noncommittally. He tugged the pilfered wallet out and started counting out the required notes, pointedly ignoring the girl’s curious glance towards the thick layer of bandages wrapped around his right hand. He passed the cash over, purposefully jamming his hands back into his pockets afterwards to stop her from staring at them. She flushed sheepishly with realisation, averting her gaze to focus instead on counting out his change. K’s head tilted away, towards the view beyond the glass doors, while she did so. It was getting dark outside. Night was approaching, and the roiling blanket of grey slithering across the sky made things even darker. Looked like a storm was inbound. Street lights began flicking on one by one, casting fuzzy yellow halos of light against the pavement to bravely keep the dark at bay. The stores across the road were also lighting up, all warm brightness and little bits of flashing neons. Amongst all that, K’ almost didn’t catch the flare of twin blue pinpricks from the darkness between two buildings. His blood chilled. “Just keep the change,” he told the clerk stiffly. She startled, sputtering as he snatched up his bag of stuff and made a swift exit. K’ kept his head down and his pace brisk as he skirted around the side, and towards the back, of the convenience store. The chain link fence separating it from some apartment blocks was easily hopped, and he headed straight towards the alleys beyond. He needed to gain some distance. Quickly. Or at the very least, confuse his trail a bit. With that in mind, K’ turned a series of corners at random and jumped up a fire escape. Chilly, rain-scented wind ruffled his clothes and hair, stinging his face, as he hopped over a few rooftops. Time bent and blurred with each successive burst of translocation used to aid his jumps, twisting his empty gut and making his head spin with increasing amounts of nausea and disorientation. But he couldn’t stop. Not now. It wasn’t safe. Perhaps because of his mounting exhaustion and wooziness, K’s next landing was gravely miscalculated. A stream of curses were spat as he stumbled into a roll, overbalanced at the opposite edge of the building, and fell. The wind whistled deafeningly during his unwanted descent, nearly swallowing his own harsh breaths and the plastic bag’s mad ruffling. K’ swiped desperately at passing objects to latch onto, or at the very least slow his fall, but he missed most of them. Ultimately, it was a window sill that saved him, at the unfortunate expense of severely jarring his arm. The remainder of the trip down was punctuated by stifled groans every time he dropped and caught the next sill until, at last, his boots hit cement. Miraculously, his purchases had survived the ordeal, with nothing but slightly stretched handles on the plastic bag’s end to show for it. K’ rolled his shoulder with a hiss, gaze darting between both ends of the alley. He saw nothing but darkness either way. Though that didn’t necessarily mean he was in the clear yet. K’ opted to go left, heading back towards the crowded streets. Things would likely become dangerous for innocent bystanders, but… If he managed to get swallowed up amongst the masses before his tail caught up, then that problem wouldn’t even exist. It was a risky gamble, but one he was willing to make. Besides, it wasn’t as though he had many options available. He turned in place, fully intending to follow through with his plan, only for the hair on the back of his neck to prickle at some impending danger. Acting on pure instinct alone, K’ hurled himself to the side.

A heavy gust of air whooshed by his ear, ruffling his hair, and a cloud of steam hissed and billowed out the corner of his eye, surrounding a large fist. K’ grunted as his body hit the cement. Pushed himself up again from a roll into a stand, dislodging his cap in the process. He came up facing the attacker with fists raised and jaw clenched. The pain in his eyes was obvious, no matter how hard he tried to snuff it. “Hey, moron. ’S been a while.” An empty shotgun-esque shell was ejected with more steam and hissing. It clicked and rolled away into the dark as the pieces of Maxima’s arm canon clicked back into place. His expression was a blank slate. Gone was the nigh-perpetual mirthful twinkle in his eyes, the broad grin, the aura of overt friendliness and kindness… And his voice was equally cold and dead as he spoke. “Agent K’, you are to come back with me to NESTS headquarters for reprogramming. Cease all resistance now or be terminated.” K’ shuffled back a step. His lips tugged up into what was supposed to be a faint grin, but looked more akin to a grimace. “Sorry, partner, no can do. You know that… I can’t exactly fix you if I’m a mindless drone too, remember?” Glowing blue swallowed Maxima’s eyes. K’ was being scanned, he knew. Getting probed for weaknesses and having any potential attacks he may be planning predicted. “You seek to continue this foolish resistance?” “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” His gauntlet heated, steam hissing out from the vents above his knuckles and slipping between the gaps of the bandages. K’ took a step forward, right fist clenched… Only to hurl the bag clutched in his left at the cyborg’s head instead. Maxima’s hand whipped up, arm cannon already primed, and a deafening explosion ripped through the alley as vapour and pieces of food flew. Half a pocky stick bounced off his sideburned cheek, but he didn’t so much as flinch. K’ turned on his heel and ran.

Barely ten seconds had passed before the whine of thrusters joined the soundtrack of his own harsh breathing and footfalls. K’ cursed, pivoting in place to swing a flaming backhand at the encroaching threat. Maxima ducked the blow, a thick arm already heading for his ribs in a retaliatory strike. There wasn’t enough time or space to avoid the blow. With the distinct crack of breaking bones filling the air, K’ was sent flying backwards, blood bubbling up past his clenched teeth and dribbling down his chin. For the second time in the span of five minutes, his body hit the cement. Bounced and rolled with all the control of a rag doll until his back smacked against a pile of garbage bags, bringing him to a stop. K’ braced both hands to push himself up, only to gasp around the fireworks of pain sparking angrily in his chest and collapse again. He wheezed, harsh and wet, clawing at the dirty ground instead of his chest to avoid further aggravation of the injury. Something within swung nauseatingly with every shallow breath. Ribs… Shit. A blue boot crunched into view, drawing K’s wavering gaze upwards. “Further resistance may result in death,” Maxima intoned. Glowered down at him with eyes still glowing, casting strange, harsh shadows over the lower half of his face. “Cease.” “Y-y'know,” K’ gasped out. Slowly pushed himself up onto elbows and knees, swaying unsteadily. “He’d be… d-disappointed… t'see you like… like this. Rocky, that is.” Maxima flinched. It was the first human reaction out of him from this entire encounter and it gave K’ hope. His friend was still in there somewhere, despite NESTS’ best efforts to erase him completely. With that in mind. K’ seized the tiny window of opportunity he’d created, throwing up a wall of fire between them so he could beat a hasty retreat; live to fight another day and plan just how to go about undoing whatever brainwashing and mind wiping NESTS had done to his friend. He staggered to his feet and ran while the cyborg was busy jumping out of the way of the flames and readjusting his vision from the sudden glare. Didn’t stop running even when he broke out of the alley and into the light and bustle of the streets. Would’ve continued to run if his body didn’t give out on him; the injuries and exhaustion finally taking their toll, causing him to collapse on his side in yet another alley. All he could do now was choke down ragged breaths around the swell of copper in his throat, releasing the occasional thin whine of pain, and watch frigid raindrops fall, soaking him and his surrounds, through blurred and darkening vision.

[smilinglance]

Klance Week Day 6 - Quote

bet yall thought i was done 

you were wronggggg

ao3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10988796

I want you I’ll colour me blue Anything it takes to make you stay Only seeing myself when I’m looking up at you - Troye Sivan, Blue

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Keith shook out his arm hopelessly. He hated being able to feel his heartbeat on a good day, but right now it was eery. He refixed his gaze to the cyropod in front of him. Lance looked so still; he couldn’t be sure he was even breathing. His skin was washed out by the blue light of the pod and the lack of blood. He seemed lifeless. Keith took a deep breath to calm his speeding heart. He would be okay. He would be okay.

He’d been repeating this mantra to himself for the past few hours. It was the only thing keeping him together at this point. Nevertheless, he felt like he could fall apart at any second. He didn’t know why it was so bad this time. They’d been here before, Lance comatose in a pod, Keith watching over him until he awoke or was forced to leave by a team mate. Every time was scary and took years off his life but this time was different. He felt it deep into his core, like he was on the edge of exploding and imploding at the same time. Like he could scream or burst into tears or break everything in the room. The desperation and anxiety was eating at him.

Maybe it was the red. It was everywhere, redder than Keith’s lion and his suit. Bigger and darker than he’d ever seen and it was like Lance was drowning in it. All he did was smile and collapse while Keith felt like his world was caving in and self destructing.

He thinks he blacked out. He must have because the next thing he knew he was draped over Lance, crying, something he never did, and the other paladins were rushing in and there was dead soldiers and drones everywhere. They reckon he went on a rampage, fueled by his distress and the quintessence mirrored in his Lion. He heard them whispering as they shuffled him out, Keith clutching Lance’s hand because he was too drained from shock to help carry him. He could make out their mutterings as he rocked himself in a corner, trying to prevent another panic attack as they saw to Lance.

He was still breathing when the others found them. It was lucky, but he was bleeding out so fast. He heard Coran say something about how he thinks the Blue Lion might have been helping him out. Keith had never been more grateful to her in his life, even after she gave him a family and a purpose.

He had only realised that recently. They were all congregated in the main common room, Coran trying to demonstrate some Altean ritual to Shiro as Allura laughed off to the side in amusement and joy. Pidge was grinning that sharp smile of hers at Shiro’s awkwardness while relaxing against Hunk’s legs as he investigated how many hair ties he could fit into her hair. Usually Lance was the resident hair player in the castle, but he was occupied with Keith’s, trying to do some fancy braid with what little hair he had available. He laughed along with the rest of them while he fiddled, his corny one liners make everyone laugh, including Keith. He could do that now. After all these months he was finally comfortable enough with everyone and their shenanigans. He was used to Lance and he was used to Keith. They argued a lot less now, rather having playful bickering and fun competitions. It made Keith feel warm inside. He didn’t know why for a long time, though he did eventually work it out.

On that night he felt particularly warm, especially after Lance whispered joyfully to himself, “Done,” and proceeded to wrap his arms around Keith, pulling his back to his chest. He did this sometimes. Lance was a very physically affectionate person and it had surprised him when it was finally turned upon him. After years of being alone he didn’t trust the action and it took time for him to grow comfortable with the idea. Luckily Lance was persistent. Now Keith was very comfortable, and snuggled back into Lance, finding safety in the heat of his chest and the pressure of his arms around him. Lance rested his face against his hair as they watched the others in companionable silence.

It was then Keith had realised it; he was happy. This is where he wanted to be, what he had needed for so long. A job, though ruthless and draining that made him feel like he was doing something. A place he could call home and people he could count on and he knew cared about him.

The warmth was almost overwhelming at this point and Lance’s arms tightened. Keith let one his hands lay on Lance’s. This was it and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

But now he felt like he was on the brink of having it all ripped away. Keith wasn’t afraid to admit, he knew that what he had now would be nothing without Lance. Where would be the excitement and thrill in missions? Who would be the team cheerleader, the token drama queen and cheerer upper? Who would constantly bring them down to earth, humble them, comfort them? Who would be the ice to Keith’s fire, the blue to his red?

Now that he had him, Keith would be nothing without Lance. The thought of losing him was like having his heart ripped from his chest, and with every dobash that passed he could feel it being pulled out further and further. It hurt in a way that he had never felt before, so agonising he felt like he could die from this injury that didn’t exist. If Lance was the one on his deathbed why did Keith feel like he was dying too?

He heard the door to the infirmary open and footsteps carefully make their way over to him. He could tell it was Hunk. He was probably on Make Keith Rest duty. But instead of placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder and starting his usual spiel like Keith expected, Hunk sat down next to him, folding his arms on his knees, and his head upon them.

“He’ll be okay.” Hunk was the one to break the silence. Keith stiffened and tried to swallow back his retaliating emotions of desperation and anger.

“You don’t know that,” Keith replied, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. It still sounded choked to his ears.

“Yes, I do,” Hunk argued. Keith’s eyes flickered to him and found Hunk already looking at him. “I’ve been talking to Coran recently. About how exactly these things work, what all that Altean garble means.” He waved an arm gesturing to the pod. “I can kind of make out those stats now, and all of them are showing he’s healing okay. Not only that, his wound is definitely fixable. I’m not going to lie, there are some things beyond the pods’ capacities, but his injury isn’t one of them. And do you really think Lance would let himself die on us?”

Keith felt his heart clench. He knew Hunk was right but he was still so, so scared. He had to look away from his warm eyes. “I’m scared,” he admitted and that time his voice shook and there was no hiding it.

Hunk let out a soft sigh before laying an arm around Keith’s shoulders and pulling him to his side. “I know, buddy, I am too.”

Hunk stayed with him a while, and for that he was grateful. Eventually he did have to leave and once more Keith was alone, staring at Lance’s static figure.

* * *

He awoke to the hiss of the cyropod opening, frozen air escaping and chilling the room. It sparked him into action and he raced forward just in time for Lance to fall forward into his arms. His body was cold, as to be expected, and heavy. He heard a soft groan escape him and Lance nuzzled further into Keith’s embrace. Keith could feel his heartbeat once more and it was racing. He hoped Lance couldn’t hear it.

He’s okay. Lance is okay. The new mantra took place and sounded on loop in Keith’s head. He felt dizzy with relief. He held him tighter. Lance is okay.

He felt more than heard Lance chuckle, a tickle of air against the skin of his collarbone and the slight shake of his chest. Lance shifted in his arms till he was standing as straight as one could after healing from a mortal wound and being frozen for hours. Keith’s heart stuttered in his chest was his brilliant blue eyes met his, that crooked smile on his face. Keith missed this face. It was one of his favourites, one of genuine, affectionate happiness. He hoped Lance couldn’t see how his face warmed.

“Miss me, mullet?” Lance teased placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder and the other on his chest for balance. Keith was mute, too many emotions rushing through him to speak. Lance’s face softened. “I hope I didn’t scare you too much,” he said, his voice sounding almost pained. Keith looked to the ground, hands gripping Lance tighter.

“Don’t do that again.” He said it so quickly the words almost blurred but Keith could tell Lance understood by the way he drew him just a bit closer.

“I’ll try,” he whispered. Keith didn’t know what hurt more, the fact that he couldn’t promise that it wouldn’t happen again or that fact Lance knew him well enough that promising it wouldn’t would make pain him further. His head dropped to Lance’s shoulder and he wrapped his arms ever tighter.

His heart ached in chest. Lance was okay, he was alive. But there was no ensuring that this wouldn’t happen again and it hurt because Keith loved him too much to lose him. Without Lance, he didn’t know who he was. He had changed so much after meeting Lance, bonding with him and loving him. Lance was an integral part of himself now. Without him, he was nothing.

They sank to the floor, kneeling with legs intertwined. Keith lifted his head to look at Lance, ignoring the obvious wetness to his eyes. Lance’s expression mirrored his own and he couldn’t brushing a finger along his cheek where a tear had escaped.

“I was scared.” His chest hurt, and thumped roughly in his rib cage. ‘I was so scared, Lance. You don’t-” The words stuck in his throat and he had to look away. “You don’t know what it was like. I thought you were dead. I...” His eyes met Lance’s again. “I love you too much to see that.”

Lance’s eyes widened. “You love me?”

His shock startled Keith out of his stupor. “Yeah. I love you.” He felt a smile fall on his face. It was still a little sad, but full of so much love.

Lance froze for a moment before his face crumpled into a similar expression to Keith’s. “I love you too. So stop looking so sad okay? I’m fine.” He moved his hand to Keith’s face, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone.

Keith pressed into Lance’s hand, relishing his touch. “I’ll try,” he said, echoing Lance’s previous words. He rose off one knee, and offered Lance his hand. “You need to sleep.”

Lance took it and held on as they left the infirmary for Lance’s room through the dim halls of the castle. They were both stumbling from exhaustion when they made it, Lance worse than Keith. He helped Lance change out of the cyropod suit into his pyjamas before dropping his jacket, belt and shoes on the floor and sliding under the covers too.

The warmth was comforting and he cuddled up to Lance. He wrapped an arm around his waist as Keith rested his head on his chest, fist clenching up his shirt fabric. He fell asleep to the sound of Lance’s heartbeat.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Lance is okay.

[hannahchronism]

i can do this tho!!

lo and behold, the origins of the Desert Deaths crew, before they were the desert deaths and before i even had a name for the desert deaths

this is absolutely focused on Tech because i was technically writing it for her and i was gonna post it but we all know i never finish anything, so, this is as far as it got (uneditted and posted for ur eyes to try and make sense of)

reminder this was like, mid 2014 so like, this some old shit in its first draft, don’t be rude about it

also this is where i stole foxtrot’s name from myself even though the characters are obviously not even slightly the same character

           The first thing she knew was a low rumble that rattled her bones like dice in a cup.

            She likened the feeling to a particularly awful hangover; she couldn’t even move or open her eyes.  She was, for the moment, relying on her ears to spell out the situation. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. Not only was there the rumble to fight with, but a pattern of pings and clunks periodically, as well as something else that added to the general din. It was like trying to hear something on a static radio channel. Eventually, her head cleared and whispers separated themselves from the white noise, but remained wholly unintelligible. If nothing else, she could identify four individual voices. That produced a very strong feeling of wrong. She lived alone, and none of the voices were in the least bit familiar to her. The rumble was still there, but as she listened, it dimmed to seem no more ominous or bone-shaking than a semi-distant background noise. She fretted over the presented facts, attempting to order them in some way that made sense. The rumble, the voices, and the stale atmosphere of the room she was in- none of it seemed to add up.

           With painful suddenness, she was jolted off and back down onto the ground, and thus provided a detailed map of every damaged inch of her body. She was littered with cuts from eyebrow to ankle, and dappled with just as many bruises and sore spots besides. She groaned loudly. Two of the whispers ceased immediately, the closer two, and a red flag was added to the growing barricade of them that she had begun collecting since reaching consciousness.

           “Ah- she lives,” an amused voice, none of the former whispers, sounded gently over her. With her head pounding away she thanked god it was velvet soft, with the added bonus of being thickened into caramel by a slight Hispanic accent  This sound brought with it the realization that her head was cradled in another’s lap, as if she had simply been sleeping. Had she been sleeping? If so, perhaps this was just the aftermath of a binge, presenting itself as a hellish hangover. She groaned again, cracking an eyelid to catch a look at the owner of the caramel sweet voice. Blurring into focus at a close proximity was a young man of around twenty with black hair, skin to match his voice, and a soft smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. He was handsome despite being marred by a distinctive scar that ran three vertical lines from the left side of his chin, over his lips, across his eye, and on to make three pale tracks through his left eyebrow. Her first thought was a Smiler had nabbed him, though the fact he still had use of his left eye (she assumed, as it was open and lacked any visible damage or discoloration) suggested a shallower blow that would be uncommon from a run in with the mutated beasts. Best guess said whatever had injured him had snared him by the chin and ripped upward, accounting for the way the lines were wider at his chin and close together, nearly touching, as they faded into his hairline. A splash of crimson in his dark hair, offset by the dull grey of the roof above him, marked him down as a killjoy and ally. “The others were betting you’d never open your eyes from your little dirt nap, Chiquita.”

           “I’m...startin’ t’wish I hadn’t...” she rasped. Dirt nap indeed. In comparison to his voice, hers sounded as if she had been gargling gravel recently. It seemed to her like she had been gargling gravel, as her mouth was dry and gritty, begging for a sip of something, anything, to relieve it.

           The young man hummed what sounded like an agreement, then, “Not gonna lie, hermana, I’m wishin’ ya hadn’t either.”  Rather than voice a response, she simply gave him a confused and questioning look, hoping to receive explanation. He leaned in closer, prompting her to turn her face away slightly, mildly unnerved. “I had a bet goin’,” he whispered, “that your eyes were blue.” Her first reaction was to roll her eyes, to scoff, and then she discovered that her ribs hurt when she laughed.

           As rapidly as it was inspired, her mirth subsided and was replaced with a grim sense of reality. Likewise, the smile on the young killjoy’s face vanished into a stormy sobriety. She didn’t have to ask to know where she was, to know what was happening. It was like her brain was still coming to terms with being conscious and the puzzle pieces were blurry- they could come together, but it had taken time.

            The nervous whispers, the rumble that surrounded them, the cornucopia of bruises on her own body and –now that she was looking for them- the neck and face of the young man who hovered over her all pointed at the truth. Still, she wanted, needed to be completely certain. She had every intention to press the subject, but for the moment she postponed the inevitable, opting for a lighter, more hopeful air. Without hope there was nothing.

           “Got a name a lady can call you?” she asked quietly, peering up at someone she now viewed in a whole new light. He was young, yes, and rough around the edges as made obvious by the scratches on his face and the stubble beginning to dust his chin and neck, but he had chosen, in this place and setting, to offer her a touch of comfort by cradling her head like she was someone close. She watched him, thinking all this, as he pondered her question, looking at something across from him that she couldn’t see. He was debating whether or not it was worth it, she could tell. It likely wouldn’t matter what his chosen call sign was in a matter of hours, and he had to decide whether to perpetuate the false sense of hope or address the frightening reality.

           “..Nathan.” he muttered in an undertone she almost missed, and she watched the duo of syllables drain him dry and turn his dark cheeks ashen. A name to condemn. It made her want to cry. She had to take a steadying breath before she could continue.

           “Nathan.” She repeated the name in a husky whisper. “And…and we’re-”

           “In the back of a collection van.” He answered her question before she could ask, his voice flat. And thus he dashed her hopes. In a single fell blow, he had erased what measure of illusion she had thus far managed to maintain. She had known the truth, indeed her arms were not immobile due to injury but held fast by cuffs that drummed against the floor, and yet it crushed her still. Like one who can see the ground rush up to greet them as they fall from some great height, knowing relieved none of the pain produced on impact.

            Her next breath entered as a wheeze and exited in reedy shakes, paired with an impassible lump in her throat and the impending threat of tears. In true desperate fashion, her distress only served to frustrate her. Her helplessness drove her to tears, and the tears merely distressed her further, as they served no helpful or useful purpose.  Thankfully, her wounded pride didn’t suffer in needless excess, for Nathan paid no more mind to her tears than he had the rusty quality of her voice. It was an act of mercy, she knew, the way he acted as though she had remained as tough and emotionless as the steel around both their wrists. Like a mercy killing, he spared her the undue agony.

           “What about you, mm?” he asked, staring again at something she couldn’t see, across from him and to her left.

           “Wha- What about me?” she responded once she had again found her voice. She would have wiped the moisture from her cheeks if her hands weren’t trapped at her back.

           “Got a name a gentleman can call you?” She couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. Merciful and well intended as he was, the question he asked was –in light of his own answer and thus expected response- difficult to face. She threw her gaze where he had pointed his, to her left, and found herself looking at a pair of wiry young girls huddling close to each other, faces tearstained and terrified. In retrospect, they were likely the owners of the nearby whispers that her waking groan had silenced. They were young little things. If she had to guess she would have said fourteen, but in all likelihood they were younger than that. The desert had a way of making the young look older and vice versa. In them, she saw the selfsame desperation she felt reflected and multiplied. They were all three trapped little girls with no clever means of escape, no savior on the way, and no discernible reason for hope. Staring across at her and Nathan with such fear they might as well have been roaring their misfortune at the top of their lungs, they gave her the heartache to hope and be strong where none in their rational mind would.

           “I’m Tech,” she practically sang, a victory chant clear as the chime of a bell, “and I’m always Tech.” She looked up just as Nathan looked down at her in shock, and she dared him to contradict her with her eyes. “So why don’t you tell me who you really are.” More command than request, Tech watched Nathan, challenging him with every breath that passed in and out of her bruised chest. He stared at her for a long time, struggling with his thoughts so visibly he might as well have written them down for her to read. Tech stared him down from below, hardly even blinking as she awaited his answer.

           Her pride blossomed as she watched.

           Every second he puzzled over her choice, the choice to ignore the desolation that coated the van like bile, the light Tech had watched drain out of him flickered back to life and grew. It grew in his cheeks, in his posture, but most obvious of all in his eyes, so that they gleamed under heavy brow with newfound resilience. He might not have known he still had so much to give if she chosen to dampen her own flame, and if hope was life she had just resurrected someone.

           “I’m Phantom.”

           She wanted to laugh. She had resurrected a ghost.

           “Riddle me this, Phantom,” she grunted as she struggled to adjust her position, “how, exactly, did I end up using you as a pillow?” Tech couldn’t imagine any patrol member had done her the kindness. In fact, if her complaining hip was anything to go off of, she had been tossed in the van like a cadaver.

           “I’m good with my feet.” He quipped, and Tech halted mid shift to raise an eyebrow at him. He offered only a grin, though the way he smiled matched less with an ill-humored joke and more with a thank you. She did him the favor of accepting it by saying nothing and using his shoulder to help push herself up into a seated position. The movement again had her taking an involuntary stock of her injuries. Safe to say, they were numerous and painful. She had to pause a moment to breathe, resting her head against the wall. Eyes closed once more, it occurred to her the two other whispers could still be heard, but then again, they weren’t whispers, just muffled voices. Muffled by the door that separated patrol from captive. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

           “S ‘not just Phantom is it?”

           “Hm?”            “Your name,” Tech was aware of the time crunch. She didn’t know how long they’d been in the van, and didn’t know how much longer until they wouldn’t be.

           “Desert Phantom.”

           “Desert Phantom?” Tech snorted, rolling her head to look at him dubiously.

           “What?”

           Tech shook her head, then let her eyes travel throughout the van. Aside from herself, Phantom, and the two girls, there were three others. Two men, both clearly older than any of the others, and a woman slouched in the far corner, hunched so that her hair covered her face. She was either unconscious or-            An alternative Tech didn’t want to explore. Neither did anyone else, evidently, for the area immediately around the woman was empty. All the others had crowded together towards the front of the van, away from the prone form. And yet, even as they were all clustered, there were obvious boundaries between allies. The girls across from Tech and Phantom had isolated themselves by turning in, pressing their shoulders together, and Phantom had created a sense of unity between himself and Tech when he had made the decision to hold her head. Each of the grown men was isolated separately, self contained and eyes downcast but ears no doubt listening to everything. It was not in killjoy nature to ignore their surroundings.

           Time pressed on without waiting for consent, burning minutes.

           No matter how many times Tech looked away, at the seams of the van or the other killjoys, her eye kept returning to the two girls. One was a touch fairer than the other, with a spattering of freckles and strawberry-blonde hair. She glanced up from time to time, but mainly kept her gaze confined to the floor. Tech got the impression that if the girl’s hands were free, her nails would be at her mouth. The other, who had cinnamon brushed skin and sun-lightened honey hair, had locked her amber eyes on Tech with an intensity to envy. Aware of the growing stretch of silence within the van, Tech made the conscious decision to lock gazes with the girl, an unspoken staring contest commencing. At first it seemed idle, like some way to pass the time, but there was just enough malice, enough of a slow burn in the girl’s eyes, that Tech felt the gravity of the competition increase as time passed. It became quite clear to Tech that this girl was issuing a challenge.

           The reason for the challenge remained unclear; however the rules were more than obvious. Whoever looked away submitted. Like wolves determining dominance without ever raising a paw, if Tech looked away she would be resigned to hopelessness, and if the girl turned away she would entertain whatever sliver of desperate denial that Tech had ignited in Phantom. Tech found that it was almost like looking in a mirror, holding this girl’s eyes. For a flash, she even pictured that it was herself she had matched gazes with, albeit a slightly younger version of herself. It was gone as quickly as she saw it, a flash of auburn hair and fair freckled skin, but it was all she needed to see to be steeled in her thoughts.

           As she held her contest with the young girl, Tech could feel eyes on her. Phantom and the other men looked on steadily, and the strawberry blonde girl’s eyes jumped from Tech to her contender and back regularly. The girl’s lips flattened, and in way of a response Tech lifted her chin while holding her eyes. Phantom tensed next to Tech. At a length Tech would be hard pressed to judge the accurate span of, the other girl’s lower lip trembled, then she clenched her jaw and submitted. Her gaze hit the ground as a ton of bricks, the tension dropping with it, and her head bowed. Tech swiveled her head, meeting gazes around the van. All looked away immediately, save Phantom who held her gaze for a handful of seconds. When Tech refused to look away he inhaled sharply, his chest filling and his shoulders straightening, but he just as quickly exhaled and gave the smallest incline of his head before blinking and lowering his eyes.

           Thank god. She almost sighed with relief, but that could wait.

           “What of the rest of you?” They all looked up. “Who’s got names I want to hear?”

           “Desert Dusk.” The honey haired girl led the ring of answers, and after her they came in order, circling the van. The names were shared openly, not strictly addressed to Tech but more of a circular introduction; if they were in whatever this was together, it would only benefit to know each other’s names, and if half of them were completely doomed, the other half had the chance to live and remember.            “Desert Dawn,” the strawberry blonde. She was fragile looking, more so than Dusk, though not wholly un-similar from her nightly counterpart. More than likely, the pair were sisters, sharing whatever mixed heritage had led to the creamy coffee color of skin they shared shades of. She had wide dinner-plate eyes, and seemed to be a sheltered type. No doubt she had redeemable qualities, honesty, loyalty, but those were less than helpful in the present situation.

           “Rhythm Reaper,” one of the men, closest to the unconscious woman. He had dusty chestnut hair and skin only a touch lighter than Tech’s own, though he laid no claim to freckles, only a small mole on his collar bone. He also possessed sleepy-looking powder blue eyes, and an overall lethargic posture, but the condition of his physique told Tech that the presentation was not to be trusted. This was not a dull individual, just one apt at pretending to be. If his aged appearance of at least his mid thirties was anything to go off of, it was a tactic that had served him well.

           “Garish Foxtrot,” the man directly to Phantom’s left, older than Reaper by any number of years, his hair beginning to silver in contrast to his nearly obsidian-dark skin. He was stout and sturdily built, with wide shoulders and heavy hands. With any luck, the glint of the chain she could see around his neck had dog tags attached that labeled him as pre-war military. Pre-war military were some of the first to defect when everything had gone to hell, and by whatever god you chose were they tough.

           “Desert Phantom.” He re-introduced himself, and –notably- completed a trio of matching names. Tech couldn’t help but wonder if there were more like them, who not only banded together but subsequently became one in even their titles. It meant they had a family, a close knit bond with as many as twenty people or as few as just the three of them; either way linked names meant security. However, it also meant Phantom would value the girls before the rest. An admirable devotion, but one that hindered any of the ideas of escape Tech had thus far concocted.

           “Techno Havoc.” She introduced herself with a nod of thanks.

           No sooner had the last consonant passed her lips than –to everyone’s shock- the woman in the corner stirred, lifting her face into the light. Dawn gave a short scream of horror, and Tech briefly acknowledged that the muffled voices on the other side of the door cut off, but the thought passed largely unregistered as she recognized the face in the opposite corner of the van from her.

           “Tess!” Tech exclaimed, and the woman smiled a full, brilliant smile as her name was spoken. A measure of relief bolstered Tech’s spirits. Despite knowing that little could even be attempted from this side of the van’s walls and it was likely that they all rode to death and worse, being with someone you knew was a comfort. You wish the best for your friends outwardly, but you secretly wish they’ll go down with you, even if you won’t admit it.

           “I thought that might be you,” Tess’s words echoed her smile, warm and honeyed with affection as well as a spiraling Hispanic accent, “but you can’t blame a girl for making sure she’s among friends.” She winked at Tech. God knew how long she’d been lying still like that. It might’ve been since being collected, or maybe only a matter of minutes, but either way it provided a key insight into Tess’s smarts and choice strategies. Deception was the female feline’s game. No sooner than Tech had beamed and opened her mouth to respond than the door to the front of the van slid open.

           Instantly, all eyes jumped to the door and the young draculoid standing in it. He looked back wide-eyed, a deer in headlights. Tech could hardly blame him- outnumbered by around a half dozen individuals commonly referred to as little more than wild animals, he was the odd one out with only a single gun and a police style baton to prevent him from being overwhelmed. Certainly, he was the only one armed to such a degree (Tech had no doubts someone had a weapon of some kind overlooked by the officer in charge) but arming only aided one so far. What they lacked in weaponry, they more than made up for in determination, desperation, and overall disposition of displeasure, and that’s without the advantage of numbers. One man with one gun could kill maybe three of seven if rushed, assuming he was of average capability with said gun. He wouldn’t even have time to reach for the baton…

           “What’s the noise then, eh boy?” The driver, still on the other side of the divider, called brusquely. Of the two draculoids, he was clearly the veteran and the one in charge. With seven sets of eyes boring into him, the young man’s training appeared to have fluttered right out of his ear, for he stood as still and silently stupid as a post, mouth slightly agape in a stupid expression.

((((((and then that’s literally where it ends. i have no idea why i dropped it here, but I do know the rest was going to see Reaper be either injured or killed, and Tess & Gar escape, which was how news of Tech getting picked up got out to Jack & crew. from there Phantom & Des & Dawn eventually evolved into the characters I have of them now, and obvi tech is still tech and always is her cringey pain in the ass self)))))))