#lightning in the dungeons again

[fannedandflawless]

Snape’s Emotional Weather Forecast

☁️ 7-Day Forecast: Professor S. Snape, Dungeon Sector

Monday: Bitter with a chance of contempt

Tuesday: Sleet made of past regrets

Wednesday: Magical pressure dropping fast

Thursday: Dry wit warning in effect

Friday: Sudden rage squalls. Avoid eye contact.

Saturday: Isolated silence, brooding winds

Sunday: Lightning in the library. No, you can’t sit here.

[daeyumi]

Place of our ancestors ❇️⚡️

[Linktober 2: Temple]

[fujii-draws]

Stroke of bad luck

[plinchy]

My electrically charged tiefling!

[everywherestrs]

You make your ingame character look like him. Pt. 1

Xavier

You and Xavier are partners even outside of work. He is always eager to play any games with you, and the moment a game has co-op, he’s creating an account so you can jump into it together. You two almost always play side by side.

But this time, Xavier had been sent on a business trip, and coincidentally, a brand-new game was released. Without thinking twice, you downloaded it and immediately started creating your avatar.

At first, it didn’t even cross your mind—but then you remembered how, in previous games, whenever you created a female character, other players would constantly hit on you. Xavier always seemed to get annoyed by that, often going so far as to start fighting anyone who dared get within ten pixels of your character.

So your finger hesitated… and then pressed the button to switch the character's gender to male. You spent hours crafting the perfect look, but nothing felt quite right. And just as you were about to give up, a message popped up from Xavier: everything had gone smoothly, and he’d be back in a few days.

In that moment, inspiration struck like lightning.

You quickly typed a reply, then dove back into the game to create a your masterpiece.

You heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Putting your phone down, you made your way toward the sound.

The moment you saw Xavier kicking off his shoes, you rushed to him and wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace. He let out a soft chuckle at the force with which you squeezed him.

—I’m happy to see you too, my little star.

After that, you both sat down for dinner, and the rest of the evening melted away as you cuddled on the couch. The TV was on, but neither of you paid it much attention. Instead, you exchanged stories about your days apart.

—Oh! A few days ago, I downloaded a new game. I haven’t made much progress yet, so I think you’ll catch up to me pretty quickly.

You didn’t need to say more. Xavier was already pulling out his phone and downloading the game.

He didn’t bother customizing his avatar, opting instead for one of the default skins the game offered. Every time you tried to nudge him into changing at least one detail, but his reply was always the same: the game itself was more interesting than playing dress-up.

—I’ve spawned at the starting point.

—Hold on, I’ll teleport to you. I’m here.

Xavier scanned his screen for your avatar. You always chose vibrant accessories, so he was used to spotting you easily in crowds of players. But this time, he couldn’t find you anywhere.

—I don’t see you.

—I’m right here.

Right after your words, a blonde guy with sky-blue eyes, in a soft beige cardigan and a sword strapped to his hip, approached Xavier’s character. Standing before him, he waved.

—Xavii, you went with the default skin again…

While your eyes were still focused on your screen, you didn’t notice Xavier—sitting beside you—had suddenly gone still. It wasn’t until several silent seconds passed with no reply that you turned your head to look at him.

Xavier was staring at his phone screen in silence. When you were just about to ask if everything was alright, he finally spoke.

—Is that... me?

It took a moment for the meaning to click in your head.

—Oh! You mean my avatar? Well, I figured since you always get annoyed when other players start following me around, I thought this might help avoid that whole mess.

You turned back to your phone and made your character use an emote that scattered confetti around them.

—And it worked! Only a handful of players approached me, and even then, just to ask for materials.

—Hmm.

Xavier gave a quiet hum to show he was listening, but said nothing more.

From there, you both continued exploring the map. Just as you’d predicted, Xavier quickly caught up to your level. Now you could dive into dungeons together and take part in events as a team.

You stretched, hearing a soft crack from your bones. Glancing at the clock, you realized you’d been playing for over three hours. Time to call it a night.

—I think that’s enough for today. We both have tomorrow off so let’s spend the day playing from morning till night.

You called over your shoulder as you stood up and headed for the bathroom to get ready for bed. But then Xavier’s voice stopped you.

—Hey… why did you decide to make your avatar look like me?

Xavier asked uncertainly, his gaze shifting away. By now, fatigue was beginning to weigh on you. All you wanted was to collapse into the cool bed and bury yourself in your pillow, so your answer came simply—without much thought.

—Well… who else would I make my character look like, if not like my boyfriend?

You left the room without seeing the soft smile that bloomed on Xavier’s face at your words. And when you both lay in bed that night, you didn’t notice how Xavier held you just a little tighter than usual, his face nestled gently into your neck.

Zayne

The clock read ten at night, but you were lying on the bed, propped up against the headboard, bathed in the warm, dim glow of the bedside lamp, your phone resting in your hands.

This wasn’t the first time you found yourself in a situation like this—and yet, each time, you still couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him.

Zayne was always so dedicated to his job that sometimes his job fully consumed him, but he had told you countless times that you were his first priority—but in moments like these, when he came home exhausted, or worse, after failing to save one of his patients, you never had the heart to start an argument.

And besides, sometimes the roles were reversed. Just last month, nearly every one of your missions had ended later than scheduled, and there were more than a few occasions when you’d come home to find Zayne already there. But the one constant was that no matter how late you returned, he was always waiting for you—never once going to bed before you arrived.

That’s why, for the past week, you’d been trying to return the gesture—to wait up for him as well. But there was one small problem.

How were you supposed to stay awake?

One night, as you scrolled through your phone in an effort to keep your eyes open, an ad for a new video game caught your attention. You and Zayne had an entire gaming nook set up in your home, so you were more than happy to add one more title to your collection.

You had just finished your daily commissions when you heard the sound of the front door opening—followed by quiet footsteps headed your way.

Zayne cracked the bedroom door open slowly, not wanting to wake you if you were already asleep. But when he saw the soft light filtering through, he pushed it open fully.

—Welcome back, honey~

You greeted him in an especially sweet voice, adding a playful new nickname. You loved teasing Zayne and watching his reactions in real time—but lately, with how busy he’d been, your windows of opportunity had been getting fewer and farther between.

Even in the low light, you caught the faint blush dusting his ears and the deep breath he took in response to your greeting.

—Good night to you too. Though I figured you’d be deep in your tenth dream by now.

You stood from the bed, set your phone on the nightstand, and crossed the room in a few easy strides. You wrapped your arms around him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

—I had to wait for you… I missed you.

You felt his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in close. A soft kiss landed on the top of your head, and when he pulled back slightly, he murmured,

—I missed you too.

Neither of you knew how long you stood there, wrapped up in each other. But after a while, you offered to draw Zayne a bath—part of your ongoing effort to take care of him. “I need my doctor to be healthy and well.”

You made your way to the bathroom to start the water. Meanwhile, Zayne walked to the nightstand to place his glasses down—and that’s when your phone screen caught his attention.

The game was still open, the screen lit up with your avatar. A young man with brown hair and green eyes behind a pair of glasses. He wore a tie, a crisp white shirt, and a medical coat draped over his shoulders. The last thing Zayne noticed was your username at the top of the screen: “Dr. Snow”.

You had just finished checking the water when you came back into the room, ready to call Zayne over only for him to ask, with a raised brow,

—So… did you get yourself a second doctor?

At first, you didn’t understand what he was talking about. But then you saw your phone in his hand and everything clicked. A slow smile spread across your face.

—Mhm. I figured it’s better to have two doctors. While one’s busy with other patients, the second one can look after me.

Zayne’s eyes didn’t leave you as you walked over to him.

When you reached him and gently took the phone from his hand, he didn’t resist. Instead, he asked,

—And which of the two do you think is doing a better job?

You exited the game and set your phone back down on the nightstand. Turning back to Zayne, you looped your arms around his neck.

You pretended to ponder the question, moving one of your hands to tap your finger against your chin in thought. After a few seconds, you finally replied,

—I think Dr. Li is much better at the job than Dr. Snow. The second one’s still too low-level to compete with the first.

—Oh? And what level is Dr. Li exactly?

Zayne asked as he placed both of his hands on your hips. You rose up on your toes, leaned in close, and whispered right into his ear:

—Max level.

Rafayel

Thomas had asked you, practically begged, for help: to convince Rafayel to actually show up to his own exhibition. Rafayel, in turn, had set one condition: you had to be present at every single one.

So you often found yourself tucked away in some quiet corner of an art gallery, quietly watching the crowd that inevitably gathered around your boyfriend. Rafayel would always try to keep you by his side, but you never liked being in the spotlight. So, as usual, you’d quietly slip away, unnoticed, distancing yourself from conversations and curious guests.

At first, you thought it would be easy. A few hours walking around the gallery, looking at the paintings, and then heading home. But with every new exhibition, it all became more and more monotonous. One night, during one such event, boredom finally got the best of you and you pulled out your phone, retreating to your usual quiet little corner.

That’s when you came across a new game. Before committing, you glanced up to find Rafayel. He was still deep in the crowd, utterly absorbed. Judging by the way things were going, it didn’t look like the guests would be letting him go anytime soon.

You tapped “download” and waited for it to install.

You were in his studio.

Rafayel sat on the floor, surrounded by scattered art supplies. A canvas lay in front of him. You were curled up on the couch, your gaze fixed on your phone.

The room was wrapped in a peaceful kind of silence.

At some point, you stood up, still holding your phone, and began to walk. The soft sound of your footsteps caught Rafayel’s attention, and he looked up from his canvas.

The moment his eyes met yours, you dropped down to your knees in front of him, holding the screen of your phone up to his face.

—Which one’s better, the first or the second?

You asked, pointing first to one outfit, then to the other on the screen.

Rafayel blinked, momentarily confused. His brow furrowed. But then his gaze drifted from your calm, focused expression back to the screen. After a moment of inspecting both options, he answered simply:

—The first.

That was all you needed. Without a word, you stood up and returned to your seat on the couch, resuming whatever you’d been doing before. Rafayel, still sitting on the floor, looked after you with the same confused expression—waiting, perhaps, for some sort of explanation.

But when you didn’t offer one, when you just kept scrolling silently on your phone, he finally rose to his feet and approached you.

Coming closer, he managed to catch a glimpse of your screen.

…

—Is that supposed to be ME?!

The outfit he’d chosen—a soft, sky-blue shirt that revealed a portion of the chest and loose-fitting trousers—was now worn by a character with violet hair and eyes like a gradient between rose and turquoise. Even the birthmark on his chest was in the exact same place as his.

Without lifting your gaze from the screen, you gave a small hum of confirmation.

Rafayel sat down beside you abruptly.

—When did you even have time to make this?

—At one of your exhibitions.

He went silent, clearly processing that information. Then, in a slightly wounded tone, he said,

—So you left me alone with potentially dangerous strangers just to go hang out with him?!

It wasn’t long after that you found out Rafayel had downloaded the game too and made his avatar look unmistakably like you. He teased you about it more than once, but eventually, you found yourselves playing together in the evenings. You played as him, and he played as you.

Pt. 2

[riddlesrizzler]

Honey and Venom

summary: your twang, makes mattheo develop a thang for you. characters: southern! reader. down bad! matty. mentions of slytherin boys warnings: none! just sweet! word count: 1.4k

It was a typical day at Hogwarts, or at least, that’s how it was supposed to be. Mattheo had been looking forward to the rare moment of peace when his schedule was free of detentions and irritating professors. But no, of course, life at Hogwarts never went as planned.

Instead of being tucked away in the dungeons with his friends, Mattheo found himself begrudgingly walking down the corridor with an unexpected new responsibility. He had been “volunteered” by Professor McGonagall to show around the new transfer student.

"Mate, it won’t be so bad. Just walk her around, show her the ropes," Theo had said earlier, a smirk plastered on his face, knowing full well that Mattheo hated babysitting anyone.

"I don’t babysit," Mattheo had growled in response.

"You’ll be fine," Draco added, adjusting the collar of his robes as he walked beside them. "Think of it as a chance to make a good impression on the new girl."

"A good impression? Why do I have to make a good impression? I'm not interested in being her tour guide." Mattheo couldn’t help but sigh as he glanced at the clock. The afternoon had barely begun, and he was already regretting this.

But his friends’ words stuck with him, and reluctantly, Mattheo dragged his feet toward the entrance hall where the new student was waiting. He turned the corner, his mind preoccupied with how much he’d rather be anywhere but here.

You stood there in your black robes, nervously twisting the end of your sleeve. Your boots were a little scuffed, your uniform skirt a little too short for the dress code. And your eyes-bright, curious, framed by lashes that could kill a man - flicked up to his.

“Oh, hell,” Mattheo muttered under his breath.

She was pretty.

Like, too pretty.

For a moment, everything around him seemed to fade. The chatter, the footsteps, the hum of the castle-all of it disappeared. It was just her, and her eyes were locked on his. His chest tightened, and for the first time in ages, Mattheo felt something stir inside of him-something that had nothing to do with his usual dark thoughts or aloof indifference.

She was beautiful.

He hadn’t expected it, and that’s what made it worse. He never allowed himself to think of girls in those terms-especially not in this place, not with everything else on his mind. But there she was, and everything he had told himself about being too detached, too cynical, seemed to vanish in the wake of that first glance.

She smiled softly, a slow, warm curve of her lips that made him feel like an idiot for standing there, staring. His mouth went dry as he forced himself to take a step forward.

"Hey, you must be the new transfer student, right?" he asked, a bit too sharp. He mentally cursed himself for sounding so curt.

And when she spoke, Mattheo felt his entire world shift.

“Well, I reckon that would be me," she said with a gentle smile, her southern drawl lilting through her words like honey dripping from a jar. "Name’s Y/N. Nice to meet ya.”

He blinked.

Your voice.

Mattheo’s heart skipped a beat. He was certain he'd heard accents before, but nothing like this. There was something intoxicating about it, something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The way her words flowed... it was like music to his ears.

It was like sweet tea and slow Sundays. Like porch swings in the heat and lightning bugs in jars. Mattheo wasn’t used to soft. He wasn’t used to voices that lilted like that.

“Where are you from?” he asked before he could stop himself. He was genuinely curious, but more than that, he wanted to hear her talk again.

"Georgia," she replied, twirling a lock of her hair absently. “It’s a southern state in the states. We’re known for our peaches.”

"Peaches?" Mattheo’s lips curled into a slight smile. He couldn’t help it. Her voice was too mesmerizing, and he wanted to hear it again. “I’ve never heard anyone talk like you before."

Her laugh was soft, a melodic sound that only made him more captivated. “That’s 'cause most folks up here don’t know much 'bout the South. But trust me, there’s nothing quite like it.”

"Peaches," he muttered under his breath, the word feeling warm and comforting. “I think that suits you. I’ll call you... Peaches."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Peaches, huh? Alright, if that’s what you wanna call me.”

He couldn’t stop himself from grinning. It felt right, the way her name sounded in his mouth, and something inside of him clicked. He was already drawn to her, to her voice, to the way she made even the simplest words seem enchanting.

-

Throughout the tour, Mattheo couldn’t help but ask her more questions—anything to keep her talking. Her voice was like an addiction he couldn’t shake. They passed the Great Hall, the dungeons, and the greenhouses, but all he could focus on was her voice.

“So... do you always say things like 'reckon'?” Mattheo asked, his voice casual, though there was a glimmer of intrigue in his eyes.

She blinked, surprised by the question. “Well, reckon is pretty common where I’m from. It’s like a way of saying 'I think' or ‘I suppose.’”

"Reckon,” Mattheo repeated to himself, savoring the sound. “I like that.” He paused for a moment, looking around the hall as if searching for his next question. His eyes caught on a few banners hanging in the corridor. “What about... ‘y’all’? Do you say that a lot?”

Her lips curled into a smile. “Of course. It’s the plural form of ‘you,’” she explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We use it when we’re talking to a group of people, like ‘How are y’all doing?’”

“Y’all,” Mattheo repeated, tasting the word like it was something sweet on his tongue. “It’s... it’s charming.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, clearly amused by his fixation on her accent. “You sure like how I pronounce things.”

“I do,” Mattheo confessed. “It’s... it’s different. But in a way that makes me want to hear it more.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I reckon I can keep talking, if you like.” The soft blush that spread across her cheeks made Mattheo’s heart flutter. She didn’t seem bothered by his words, but rather intrigued, a little amused.

-

That night, in the dim green light of the Slytherin common room, Mattheo collapsed onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. Theo was already half-asleep with a book on his chest, Blaise was flipping through a Quidditch magazine, and Draco was polishing his wand.

“She’s got the voice of a goddess,” Mattheo said, staring at the ceiling.

“Already?” Blaise drawled. “You fall in love every Thursday.”

“No, no, listen,” Mattheo sat up, animated now. “She talks like… like butter melting on toast. Like bourbon on the rocks.”

Draco snorted. “You sound insane.”

Theo peeked open one eye. “Didn’t you say she was from America?”

“The South,” Mattheo said dreamily. “She said,‘Well, you’re in luck. I reckon I can keep talking, if you like.” Do you understand what that did to me?”

“Turned your brain into soup, apparently,” Blaise muttered.

Mattheo ignored him. “I swear, she could be reading potion ingredients and I’d still be hanging onto every damn word.”

“She cute?” Theo asked.

Mattheo glared. “Don’t even look at her.”

Draco laughed. “Oh, he’s whipped. Already got dibs.”

Mattheo slumped back into the couch, a dazed grin on his face. “I’m gonna make her say my name. Just once. Mattheo. Like Mat-thay-oh, in that voice…”

Blaise threw a cushion at him.

“She’s from Georgia,” he announced.

Theo looked up. “Is that a real place?”

Blaise nodded. “I think it’s in America.”

“No,” Mattheo said, pointing a finger in the air like he was making a grand proclamation. “It’s the Peach State.”

Draco looked bewildered. “What the hell does that mean?”

Mattheo leaned forward, eyes wide and intense. “It means it’s hot, sticky, there are bugs that sing at night, and-get this-everyone’s got porches and eats fruit off trees like they live in some kind of fairy tale.”

“She told you all that?” Blaise asked.

He nodded. “With that voice. That accent. I swear, I’d listen to her read me my own death sentence and thank her for it.”

Theo threw a pillow at him again. “Get a grip.”

“Too late,” Mattheo said, already leaning back into the cushions. “She’s mine. I’ve already named her.”

“You named her?” Draco asked.

“Peaches.”

There was a moment of silence.

“God, you’re pathetic,” Theo muttered.

And still, Mattheo just grinned.

[chibinasuu]

I absolutely love how you write Sanji! The tenderness you give him is so comforting. Could you possibly write something where he has a nightmare and how the reader would help him through it?

hi anon!! thank you so much for your sweet words 🥺🫶🏻

i hope that tenderness is also present in this story, and i really hope you like it! not gonna lie, this was pretty hard to write. i just wanna wrap sanji in the biggest hug. our boy has been through so much 😭😭

Nightmares | Sanji x Reader

Tags: major spoilers for sanji's past and whole cake island arc, sfw, hurt/comfort, GN but written with F!Reader in mind, no use of y/n

Sanji was no stranger to nightmares.

Unsurprisingly, many of his nightmares involved losing you. But believe it or not, those were the easier ones to get over. As soon as he woke up and saw you sleeping next to him, all of his panic and worries would dissipate.

No, the worst nightmares were the ones where his bitter memories blurred with even more horrors that his mind made up, tricking his brain until it was no longer aware of what was real and what wasn't.

He'd often dream of that solitary rock in the ocean. He'd dream that no ships passed by until his skin withered and only his bones were left to dry under the scorching sun. The hunger and thirst would feel so real that more often than not, Sanji would end up in the kitchen in the middle of the night, chugging three glasses of water and scarfing down a slice of bread before heading back to bed.

He sometimes relived being electrocuted by Enel's lightning, his whole body burnt into a crisp. In other dreams, it was Usopp and Nami who were struck, while Sanji watched helplessly, frozen by an unknown force that prevented him from reaching them.

Many times, he dreamed that he was still trapped in that dungeon, a heavy helmet locked to his head, the key nowhere to be found. He'd pull and pull, but the helmet wouldn't come off. He'd shout and shout, but no one would come and help him. Those dreams would always leave him waking up in cold sweat, grasping at the invisible iron upon his head.

Tonight, he was back on Whole Cake Island, looking down and seeing those wretched golden cuffs fastened on his wrists.

Vinsmoke Judge was there, sneering at him, "Useless—can't even do something as simple as getting married. You just needed to stand there and say ‘I do’. Was that too hard for your little brain to manage?"

His brothers were there, too. Their hard-as-steel legs finding his stomach, his back, his knees…

"Where are your little friends now?"

"Give it up, they're not coming."

"Why would they ever care about a weak coward like you?"

With a click of a button under Judge's fat thumb, the cuffs exploded and blew his hands off to bits.

Sanji woke up screaming.

He brought his hands up to his eyes, flipping them back and forth to ensure they were still there, not a scratch upon them. He clutched his precious hands to his chest, a sob threatening to escape him. His chest heaved as he struggled to fill his lungs with oxygen.

You were there in an instant.

Your hand was there, brushing his hair—damp with sweat—away from his face.

Your voice was there, gently hushing and comforting him.

"Sanji, love, breathe. It's alright. You're okay." You grabbed his face, guiding his sight to you, "Whatever it was, it wasn't real. You're okay."

You asked him to inhale with you, then exhale. His eyes slowly regained their focus.

"Tell me what's real." You'd prompt, "Your name is…"

"My name is Black Leg Sanji. I'm not a Vinsmoke. My father is Red Leg Zeff."

"That's right, honey. And where are you now?"

"I'm at the Baratie." He shifted his gaze out the window at the vast expanse of sea, the water glistening under the moonlight, "But, we're not in the East Blue. We moved this ship two years ago… to the All Blue."

He looked around again, taking in more of his surroundings, "I'm in my room—well, our room."

You nodded reassuringly, encouraging him to keep going as his breath gradually became steadier, "What else is real?"

He took your hand, thumbing the ring on your finger. Sanji's lips upturned into a soft smile—gone were all traces of the frown that marred his handsome face before—as he admired the matching ring that adorned his own finger, "You’re the one I’m married to. I proposed to you after Luffy became the Pirate King, and you said yes. I still can't believe that's real sometimes, but it is."

He placed a kiss onto your knuckles, the thin wedding band cold upon his lips, "I'm your husband."

You couldn't help but return his smile, "Yes, you are, baby."

Sanji sighed and laid his head on your chest.

You carded your fingers through his soft, golden hair as you held him close, "Feeling better now?"

"Much better." He looked up at you, "Thanks for always being here, darling."

When you first started sharing a bed, Sanji would apologize profusely whenever he unintentionally woke you up with his thrashing or screaming. You reassured him many, many times that he had nothing to be sorry about, even going so far as to reprimand him every time he apologized. But even after the apologies ceased, Sanji never failed to let you know how grateful he was that you were always there by his side.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

When Sanji shook his head, you changed your question, "Do you want to try going back to sleep?"

"Only if you do, too."

"Of course, love. Come here."

You pulled him down to lie flat on the bed, and he curled up to your side as you rearranged the covers to wrap around both of you. Sanji placed his head on your chest again, his ear resting right on top of your unwavering heartbeat.

"We need all the rest we can get." You kissed his forehead before continuing, "Luffy's arriving tomorrow, remember? I think he's picked up the rest of the crew along the way too, this time."

You booped his nose teasingly, "He definitely expects a feast, so you have a looong day of cooking ahead of you."

"Don't remind me." Sanji huffed as he snuggled closer to you, "I know the All Blue is overflowing with every kind of seafood imaginable, but with Luffy coming by so often, it won't be long until this ocean's drained."

You chuckled. He always complained, but you knew he loved it more than anything whenever the rest of the Straw Hats came to visit you two.

"Sleep, Sanji. I'll be here when you wake up."

You started humming an old North Blue lullaby you learned from Sanji long ago, back when you were still sailing on the Thousand Sunny. He told you that his mother used to sing this to him when he was little, and it was one of the only few good memories he had of his childhood. You gently stroked his hair, carrying on with your song until you felt his breathing slow.

There was never any guarantee that Sanji would remain asleep until morning. Sometimes he'd jerk awake again, but you didn't mind. You'd always be there to anchor him. To breathe with him, to hold him, to love him. You'd be there to remind him over and over that he was not alone, and that he would never be again.

⟢ masterlist

[sulkingheichou012]

Into the Dungeon with You

Pairing: Jinwoo x Reader

Genre: RomCom, Action, Future Smut

Warning: Description of violence and profanity.

Summary: Jinwoo frowned as a new system notification appeared before him.

[Special Reward Successfully Claimed.]

Author's note: I'm happy that some of you are enjoying my silly work! Yes, if you're asking to be tagged—sure! 😊

Chapter 16

Y/N had not slept a single second.

Not because of nightmares, or the lingering chill of the Abyss, or the weight of everything they had survived. No. It was because the greatest menace of her peaceful night was clinging to her like an overgrown koala. Shadow Monarch Sung Jinwoo himself.

She lay stiff as a board, eyes wide, as Jinwoo's face nuzzled dangerously close to hers. His breath was warm against her cheek, sometimes brushing down the line of her neck. And every time she thought he was loosening his hold, his arms would tighten again, pulling her flush against his chest.

“...This is illegal,” Y/N muttered under her breath for the fiftieth time.

His face was so close. Too close. She could see his stupid, perfect lashes. His lips were parted slightly, soft and relaxed in sleep, as if he hadn’t just fought a primordial monstrosity the day before. And his skin? Smooth and warm. Unfair.

Y/N sighed in defeat. “…Why are you like this,” she whispered.

She gave up trying to wiggle free hours ago. Now, resigned to her fate, she simply watched him sleep, tracing every handsome feature with her eyes, because what else was she supposed to do?

But then—his eyelashes fluttered.

Y/N froze. Oh no.

Jinwoo blinked groggily, adjusting his head on the pillow… and found her staring at him. Eyes wide. Face red. Completely busted.

“…Good morning,” he rumbled, voice deep and rough with sleep. His gaze softened, and one corner of his mouth tugged into a sleepy smirk. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“I—NO—!” Y/N almost choked, smacking his arm before realizing she was still trapped. “You were—clinging! Like a—leech!”

He chuckled. “A warm leech.”

“Jinwoo!”

But he just leaned in closer, resting his forehead against hers, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “You should’ve kissed me awake. Would’ve made my morning better.”

Her brain short-circuited.

“W-WHY WOULD I—” “I’m joking,” he murmured, but he clearly wasn’t. His dark eyes gleamed with affection, and her heart practically did somersaults.

He kissed her cheek suddenly, making her yelp. “Thanks for not kicking me out.”

The morning continued normally—or so Y/N thought.

They sat at breakfast with Jinwoo’s family. His mom hummed, sipping tea; Jinah was scrolling through her phone but kept glancing up at them. Jinwoo, ever casual, munched on toast before speaking.

“Let’s go out later,” he said to Y/N. “There’s somewhere I want to take you.”

Y/N blinked. “Ah, sure. Is it… a mission?”

Jinah and their mom suddenly exchanged a look across the table. It was like a flash of telepathic lightning.

“Nope,” Jinwoo answered calmly, not even noticing the silent conversation. “Just us.”

Y/N tilted her head. “O-Okay…”

When Jinwoo stood to take a shower, humming to himself, she relaxed.

Big mistake.

The moment the bathroom door closed, Jinah and her mom moved. Fast.

“Got her!” Jinah whispered like a SWAT team member. “Move, move, move!”

“Eh?! WAIT—!” Y/N yelped as they each grabbed an arm, lifting her from the chair like a petty criminal being dragged to interrogation.

“What is happening?!” Y/N squawked.

“Makeover,” Jinah declared.

“You’re going on a date,” their mom smiled sweetly.

“But—but I don’t have any date clothes!” Y/N panicked.

“We know,” Jinah said darkly. “That’s why we’re here.”

Before she could protest more, they had her in Jinah’s room, clothes flying everywhere. Cute blouses. Skirts. Shoes. Bags. At one point, she was holding up a lacy white top like it was a cursed relic.

“This is too much!” Y/N wailed.

“Luh, lies,” Jinah smirked, already curling her hair. “You’re totally excited.”

“AM NOT!”

Jinah raised a brow. “You’ve been singing love songs under your breath all morning.”

“THAT’S NOT TRUE—!”

Their mom patted her head. “Don’t worry. We’ll make you look stunning. Jinwoo’s brain is strong, but his heart’s weak for you.”

Y/N hid her face in her hands. I’m not ready! I’m not ready!

Meanwhile, Jinwoo, in the shower, had no idea his family was secretly helping his clueless girlfriend prepare for their first official date.

After Jinwoo casually held out his hand for her outside the apartment (which totally didn’t make her heart explode), they made their way to the city’s fanciest cinema.

Y/N didn’t even realize how nervous she was until they stood in front of the giant display of movie posters.

Jinwoo stood patiently beside her, waiting for her to decide. “What do you want to watch?” he asked, calm as ever.

Y/N stared at the screen like it was a life-or-death choice. “U-uhm…”

Action movies? Too violent. Horror? She didn’t want to accidentally scream and embarrass herself. Romance? TOO OBVIOUS.

But before she could stop herself, her finger pointed to the colorful poster of a Romantic Comedy. Two leads running in the rain, hearts everywhere, cheesy tagline: “Love Can’t Wait!”

“Ah,” Jinwoo said simply. “Okay.”

She panicked again. “W-wait! You don’t have to—!”

But Jinwoo was already buying tickets, not even blinking. “Romcom it is.”

Y/N had expected the movie to be cringe. Maybe she could hide behind the popcorn and survive.

But to her shock… it was fun! She ended up laughing—a lot. The two ridiculous main characters kept getting into stupid misunderstandings, the second-lead syndrome was REAL, and Y/N found herself gasping at all the over-the-top plot twists.

Halfway through, she was giggling, leaning forward in her seat, completely absorbed.

Jinwoo wasn’t even watching the screen anymore.

He was watching her. The way her eyes lit up at every cute moment. The way she covered her mouth when she laughed too hard. He smiled softly, shaking his head. She’s so easy to please.

Y/N slapped Jinwoo’s arm as she cackled.

“Oh my god—Did you see that?! The dogs are running slower than the humans!!”

Jinwoo chuckled, shaking his head.

“You’re really enjoying this, huh?”

Y/N grinned, eyes still glued to the screen. “I mean, look at this masterpiece! It’s so bad, it’s good!”

Jinwoo just watched her.

Not the movie.

Her.

The popcorn was almost gone when Y/N reached over, not even looking, to grab another handful.

She couldn’t stop laughing, and without even thinking, she reached out for some popcorn.

Except—

She didn’t look.

Her eyes were still glued to the screen as she mindlessly felt around.

But instead of hitting the popcorn bucket—

Her hand landed somewhere else.

Somewhere solid.

Somewhere warm.

Somewhere that was very much not popcorn.

Somewhere very very wrong.

Y/N frowned.

Huh?

Why did the popcorn feel so… firm?

She squeezed it once.

And then—

She heard Jinwoo inhale sharply.

Y/N froze.

The screen faded to black.

The theater lights came to life.

And that’s when she saw it.

Her hand.

Firmly.

Gripping Jinwoo’s thigh.

Her hand was on Jinwoo’s thigh.

Very high up on Jinwoo’s thigh.

Y/N’s soul left her body.

Jinwoo stared at her, his face completely unreadable.

Y/N stared back, her entire existence crumbling.

For a long second, neither of them spoke.

“...HIC.”

A tiny, panicked hiccup escaped her throat.

The people around them started getting up, stretching, chatting.

Meanwhile, Y/N was still sitting there—hand still on Jinwoo—completely frozen.

And then—

Jinwoo raised an eyebrow.

“…Comfortable?”

She squeaked, yanking her hand back so fast she nearly slapped herself in the face.

“I—I was going for the popcorn!!” she blurted. “I swear!!”

Jinwoo snorted. “You thought the popcorn was on my lap?”

There was a long, awkward pause as they both sat there, stiff as statues.

“…Hic.”

Y/N hiccupped again. Her face was redder than a tomato. She covered it with both hands and groaned into them. “WELL—WELL, WHERE ELSE WOULD IT BE?!”

Jinwoo casually picked up the popcorn bucket.

From the seat between them.

Y/N’s soul left for a second time.

“…Oh.”

But before she could run away in embarrassment—

Jinwoo grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

Still smirking, he leaned in slightly, voice low and amused.

“Just so you know…”

Y/N gulped. “W-What?”

Jinwoo’s eyes gleamed.

“If you wanted to touch me that badly, you could’ve just asked.”

Y/N let out a high-pitched scream and yanked her wrist away, speed-walking out of the theater as fast as humanly possible.

Jinwoo just laughed, following behind her at a leisurely pace.

Y/N speed-walked like her life depended on it.

Her brain was still rebooting after what had just happened.

But then—

A warm hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.

“Come on,” he said, guiding her towards the busy street of restaurants and arcades. “We still have time.”

After weaving through the crowd, Jinwoo finally stopped in front of a small café tucked between tall buildings. It had a cute sign with pastel letters: “Sugar Haven.”

Y/N peeked out from behind his arm, her eyes twinkled.

The café was warm and inviting, filled with the relaxing aroma of coffee and freshly baked pastries.

A large display case showcased beautiful desserts—cakes, macarons, cookies, and tarts, all arranged like little pieces of edible art.

Y/N practically lit up.

Jinwoo smirked.

He knew it.

He knew she liked this kind of stuff.

And sure enough—

Y/N immediately let go of his arm and rushed to the display case, pressing her hands against the glass like a kid in a candy store.

“Oh my god,” she whispered in awe. “Everything looks so good….”

Jinwoo watched her fondly.

This was exactly why he brought her here.

Because if there was one thing that could fluster Y/N more than him—

It was sweets.

He casually walked up beside her.

“So,” he said, leaning in slightly. “What do you want?”

Y/N, still entranced by the desserts, didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes.”

Jinwoo chuckled. “That’s not an answer.”

Y/N finally turned to him, dead serious.

“I want everything.”

Jinwoo laughed.

“Then,” he said, pulling out his wallet, “let’s get everything you want.”

Y/N gasped.

“Jinwoo,” she said, eyes wide. “Are you—Are you sugar daddy-ing me right now?”

Jinwoo choked on air.

“What?! No—”

“It’s too late!” Y/N dramatically clutched her chest. “I’m accepting my fate as a spoiled woman!”

Jinwoo groaned, rubbing his temples.

This woman was going to kill him.

After the café (and the photo-before-eating debate, which Jinwoo lost), he led Y/N down a street glowing with neon signs. Music and laughter spilled out from an old-school arcade.

Y/N tilted her head. “An arcade?” Jinwoo nodded like it was the most obvious next step on their itinerary. “You like games,” he said. “Let’s win something.”

Y/N squinted suspiciously. “…What are you planning?”

He didn’t answer. He just swiped his card at the claw machine and stared at it like it had personally insulted him.

The first round? Jinwoo studied the joystick like it was an enemy. He moved it with pinpoint precision, eyes narrowed in concentration as if planning a battlefield strategy.

The claw dropped. It missed. By a mile.

Y/N snorted behind her hand. Jinwoo’s jaw tightened. Round two? Same failure. Round three? Still missed.

Y/N was biting her lip, trying not to laugh. “Maybe it’s rigged?” she offered, not very helpfully.

Jinwoo didn’t even blink. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, voice flat. “What matters is winning.”

Cue ominous shadow ripples.

Behind Jinwoo, tiny shadows started sneaking out from under his coat. Beru was the first, his bug-eyes gleaming with purpose. He gave a tiny salute before zip-lining up the machine.

Igris followed, adjusting his helmet as if preparing for a duel. Even Tank waddled over, somehow squeezing his massive self behind the claw machine with comical stealth (except his spiky butt was definitely sticking out).

Y/N watched all of this happening in plain sight, eyes wide. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “They’re helping him cheat.”

It didn’t stop there. Every machine they walked past, Jinwoo dominated.

They finally reached the Dance Dance Revolution machine.

Jinwoo stepped up like he was about to slay a raid boss, rolling his neck and stretching his hands with grim determination.

Y/N crossed her arms. “You’re gonna cheat again, aren’t you?”

Jinwoo’s expression didn’t change. “No.”

“…Really?”

“…They will.”

She followed his gaze.

Behind the machine, Beru and Igris were already in position. Tiny hands hovered over the back panel’s extra buttons, ready to assist. Tank was also there, his enormous head peeking out with what might’ve been excitement… or confusion.

Y/N groaned and rubbed her temples. “You guys are the worst…”

The music started. It was intense. Fast beats, flashing lights. Jinwoo’s feet moved in flawless rhythm, landing each step like a machine.

But then—

THUMP.

A huge, shadowy paw pressed delicately on one of the arrows.

Y/N blinked. “…Wait.”

She turned her head sloooowly.

Fenrir was crouched behind the machine. Massive. Menacing. Dead serious.

And there he was—casually, lowkey booping the side buttons with one giant paw, like this was the most important mission of his life.

His crimson eyes were laser-focused. Absolute concentration.

The Primordial Hunger…

The Great Devourer of Worlds… Helping his King win at Dance Dance Revolution.

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “FENRIR?!”

The massive wolf didn’t even flinch. He gave a slow, solemn blink as if to say, “This is the way.”

THUMP. Another paw press. PERFECT COMBO.

Y/N just stood there, staring, mouth open in shock.

Jinwoo glanced at her between steps, mildly curious. “What’s wrong?”

She pointed, sputtering. “Y-You’ve got Fenrir helping you cheat now!”

Jinwoo didn’t miss a beat. He stomped left, stepped right, and shrugged. “He’s part of the team.”

Y/N made a strangled noise. “You’ve got the Primordial Hunger stomping on DDR buttons like it’s life and death!!”

Jinwoo, still moving flawlessly, gave the faintest grin. “He’s very dedicated.”

And he was. Fenrir’s tail was swishing in slow, serious wags. Every time the music sped up, he matched it with an elegant paw press. At one point, he even growled softly in rhythm.

Y/N clutched her head. Beru, beside Fenrir, gave her a thumbs-up. 「 Our Queen must witness our King's unstoppable power! 」

The song ended. Jinwoo hit a perfect score. “NEW RECORD,” the machine announced in bright letters.

Y/N threw her hands up. “YOU CHEATED!”

Jinwoo finally looked at her directly. “I won.”

Behind him, Fenrir solemnly licked his paw, like this wasn’t completely ridiculous. Beru was doing a victory dance, and Igris crossed his arms in approval.

Y/N just sighed and let herself laugh. “This is so dumb,” she muttered, wiping her eyes. “But you’re cute, so I’ll allow it.”

Jinwoo cocked his head. “Was that a compliment?”

“…No.” (Yes.)

As they left the machine, Fenrir lowkey glanced at Y/N. For a split second, he puffed up his chest, as if expecting praise.

Y/N blinked. “…Good boy?” she said uncertainly.

Fenrir’s tail wagged once. Then he went back to stalking behind them like a terrifying shadow beast. Totally casual.

Jinwoo hid his grin. Then—without warning—he suddenly crouched low. Y/N blinked. “What are you—”

And jumped. Straight into the air like gravity was just a mild suggestion.

“JINWOO?!” Y/N yelped, stumbling back to look up. Then a massive gust of wind nearly knocked her over.

KAISEL appeared, scales gleaming like obsidian and emerald fire, wings spread wide as he swooped down from the sky.

Jinwoo landed smoothly on Kaisel’s back like he did this every day (which, to be fair, he probably did). He turned and casually offered his hand to Y/N.

“Coming?” he said like he was inviting her to coffee, not a dragon ride.

Y/N’s brain short-circuited for a moment. “Wha—but—I’m not—!” But Jinwoo didn’t wait. He just pulled her up effortlessly, settling her right in front of him on Kaisel’s saddle.

“Hold on,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.

And then they were soaring.

She peeked down—and instantly regretted it. The ground was gone. Absolutely nowhere in sight.

She was about to start panicking again when she glanced at the horizon—

—and her breath caught.

The sky stretched endlessly, painted in breathtaking hues of gold and violet. Below them, mountains rolled like waves, their peaks dusted in glittering snow. The air was crisp, cold, exhilarating.

Y/N slowly, slowly relaxed.

Her grip loosened. Her heartbeat steadied.

Her eyes widened.

“…Jinwoo.” She turned to him, grinning. “This is amazing.”

Jinwoo smiled, watching her soften in awe. “I thought you’d like it.”

Y/N didn’t just like it. She loved it.

And when her excitement overpowered her caution, she let go of Jinwoo completely, throwing her arms wide as the wind rushed past her.

Jinwoo’s panic was immediate.

“Y/N—!”

“I CAN SHOW YOU THE WOOOOOORLD—”

Jinwoo blinked. “Wait, what—”

“SHINING, SHIMMERING, SPLENDIIIIID—”

Jinwoo stared.

He…had no idea how to process this.

“Y/N,” he started, half-amused, half-horrified. “What are you—”

“TELL ME, JINWOO, NOW WHEN DID YOU LAST LET YOUR HEART DECIIIIIDE—”

The dragon snorted.

Jinwoo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Y/N, please.”

And then—before Y/N could hit the chorus—Jinwoo grabbed her waist and yanked her back against him.

She yelped, suddenly caged in by his arms.

And ahead— A castle. Perched atop a mountain like something out of a fantasy movie. Tall towers, sweeping balconies, and stained glass windows that caught the light of the setting sun.

Kaisel let out a low, rumbling growl that was probably his version of a happy sigh as he circled once before descending to one of the wide balconies.

Jinwoo hopped down first, landing lightly. He turned, offering his hand again, this time much softer. Y/N took it without thinking.

The moment her feet hit the marble floor, she realized where they were. This was not just a castle. This was Jinwoo’s personal domain. Shadow architecture. It felt old and new at the same time—beautiful and terrifying. But then—

She turned. And the view stole her breath.

The sun was just hitting the horizon, spilling gold and rose colors across the sky. The clouds stretched out like an endless ocean of light. The wind was gentle here. Everything was still.

“…Whoa,” Y/N breathed. He watched her instead of the sunset.

Jinwoo’s shadows had discovered this place days ago, and today, he had brought Y/N here—not as a hunter, not as a monarch, but simply as a man who wanted to spend time with the woman he loved.

“It’s beautiful…” Y/N murmured, standing beside him on the castle’s open balcony. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting golden light over the stone walls. The sight was breathtaking, but the warmth of Jinwoo’s presence beside her made her heart race even more.

Jinwoo turned to her, his dark eyes soft. “Not as beautiful as you.”

Y/N nearly choked on air. Oh God, not now, not here. She was already struggling to keep her fangirl tendencies in check, but Jinwoo was making it impossible. Did he have to say things like that so casually? As if he wasn’t the strongest hunter in existence? As if he wasn’t the Sung Jinwoo, the man she had adored long before she ever set foot in this world?

“Y-You’re getting better at flirting,” she stammered, trying to keep her voice steady.

Jinwoo chuckled, his fingers brushing against hers. “You say that like I don’t mean every word.”

Oh no. Oh no no no. Y/N felt her entire body heat up. Her mind was already running wild, screaming all sorts of things she should not be thinking about right now. Stay calm. Stay normal. Do NOT let the delulu take over—

“Let’s stay the night,” Jinwoo suddenly said, cutting through her internal crisis.

She blinked. “H-Huh?”

“There’s a bedroom in the east wing. It’s still intact,” he said, tilting his head toward the darkened halls. “No point in going back so soon. Unless… you don’t want to?”

Her brain short-circuited. Stay the night? In an ancient, abandoned castle? With him? Jinwoo, the man she simped for daily, wanted to spend the night together?!

“N-No, I mean, yeah! I’m fine! Totally fine! Haha…ha…”

But then… He slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her a little closer. Y/N stiffened for a second, but… It was warm. Safe.

“…Thank you,” she whispered. “For what?”

“For today.” Her voice was soft. “For… everything.”

Jinwoo was quiet for a moment. Then he leaned in, just a little, his lips close to her ear. “I’m just getting started,” he said.

Y/N made a squeaky noise and bonked her forehead against the railing to cool off. Jinwoo chuckled again and rested his chin lightly on her shoulder.

The bedroom was grand, as if untouched by time itself. A massive canopy bed stood at the center, draped in dark velvet. A fireplace crackled, casting flickering shadows across the room. It was warm, inviting… and way too romantic for her sanity.

Y/N sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, mentally fighting for her life. She was delusional on a normal day, but this—this was actual torture.

Jinwoo, of course, was perfectly relaxed. He leaned against the headboard, watching her with that calm, unreadable gaze. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m always weird,” she shot back quickly, avoiding his eyes.

He smirked. “True. But you’re even weirder now.”

Before she could respond, he reached out, gently pulling her toward him. Y/N yelped as she stumbled into his chest, his warmth immediately surrounding her.

Her face burned. Abort. Abort mission.

“I-I should sleep on the floor,” she blurted out. “Yeah. That’s a great idea. Very chivalrous—”

Jinwoo tightened his hold, caging her against him. “No.”

“No?”

“You’re staying here. With me.”

Her heartbeat was out of control. “B-But—”

Jinwoo exhaled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Y/N.” His voice was impossibly tender. “I would never hurt you.”

She stiffened.

“I just…” His hand slid to her waist, firm yet gentle. “I want to show you how much I love you. How much I want you.”

Y/N let out a strangled noise, immediately covering her face with her hands. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her every reaction.

Jinwoo chuckled, prying her hands away. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

“I—I’m not hiding,” she lied.

He smiled, leaning closer, his breath warm against her skin. “Then look at me.”

Y/N hesitated before slowly meeting his gaze. His eyes were dark, intense—filled with nothing but love and undeniable desire.

Her breath hitched.

“Trust me,” Jinwoo whispered.

And then he kissed her.

Jinwoo’s lips brushed against hers, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. Y/N barely had time to process before his arms tightened around her, pulling her even closer.

Her heart was a mess.

The warmth of his body, the way his fingers traced lazy patterns on her waist—it was too much. She felt like she was drowning, not in fear, but in something far more overwhelming.

When he pulled away, Y/N was gasping for breath.

Jinwoo chuckled, his lips hovering just above hers. “You’re trembling.”

“N-No, I’m not,” she lied, trying to sound normal.

He hummed, obviously amused. “Liar.”

His hands roamed up her back, slow and teasing, pressing her flush against him. Y/N swore she could hear her soul leaving her body. How was he so good at this? How was she supposed to survive when he was looking at her like that?

Jinwoo leaned in, his lips ghosting over her ear. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Y/N whimpered.

“Every time you blush because of me…” He kissed the corner of her mouth, then trailed lower, pressing a lingering kiss just beneath her jaw. “Every time you look away when I catch you staring…”

His voice was deep, velvety, dripping with affection and something more dangerous.

“I love seeing you flustered.” Another kiss, this time at the sensitive spot below her ear. “But I love it even more when you let yourself fall apart for me.”

Y/N was going to explode.

“I-I’m not falling apart,” she stammered weakly.

Jinwoo chuckled, his lips tracing a slow path down her neck. “No?”

She definitely let out a sound she would deny later.

Jinwoo smirked against her skin. “Then why are you clinging to me so desperately?”

Y/N immediately tried to push away, but he caught her wrists with ease, pinning them gently above her head as he hovered over her.

His dark eyes burned into hers. “Stay.”

Y/N swallowed. “J-Jinwoo—”

“You’re so shy,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her wrist. “So adorable.”

She felt the heat crawling up her neck, spreading through her entire body.

Jinwoo’s gaze softened, though the intensity in his eyes never faded. “I love you, Y/N.” His fingers laced with hers, holding her in place. “I’ve loved you from the moment you came into my life. And I want you—only you.”

Her breath hitched.

“I want you to trust me,” he whispered. “To let me love you the way you deserve.”

The warmth of his words melted something deep inside her, making her body ache in ways she couldn’t describe.

Jinwoo leaned down, his lips brushing against hers once more. “Let me make you mine.”

And this time, when he kissed her, Y/N didn’t hold back.

Y/N didn't resist this time.

She couldn't.

Not when Jinwoo was looking at her like that, not when his touch sent fire coursing through her veins, making her head spin.

She felt weightless in his arms—like she belonged there, like she had always belonged there.

Jinwoo deepened the kiss, slow and intoxicating, as if he had all the time in the world to devour her. His fingers traced up her arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake, before slipping behind her neck, tilting her head to his liking.

Her mind was foggy.

Everything about him—the way he held her, the heat radiating from his body, the way his lips moved against hers so perfectly—made her dizzy.

This is it, she thought. This is how I die. I’m going to spontaneously combust. Her heart was thudding so hard she was sure he could hear it. Her hands gripped the front of his shirt as if he was the only thing grounding her to reality.

But then—

Jinwoo suddenly… pulled back. Just an inch. His dark eyes stared down at her, intense but unreadable.

And slowly—deliberately—he took a step away. Y/N blinked, dazed. Her brain was still lagging behind, stuck in kiss mode. She swayed slightly.

“Wait… huh?” she mumbled.

He let go of her waist gently, his hands slipping from her as if he was being careful not to startle her. Then… he reached into his pocket.

Y/N froze. Oh my God. This is it. Her entire body tensed. He’s… he’s going to… undress?! Her eyes widened in panic. Oh my GOD I’M NOT READY!

But instead— He pulled out a small velvet box.

Y/N stared. “…Wait.”

Jinwoo dropped to one knee.

“…Wait, what?!”

He opened the box smoothly, revealing a simple yet elegant silver ring. The sunset’s glow caught the delicate engraving on it—runic patterns that softly shimmered. “Y/N,” Jinwoo said, his voice lower and softer than she’d ever heard it. “I told you before… I want you to be mine.”

Her jaw dropped. She felt like her soul left her body for the third time today.

She had been preparing for something—else. She thought— She thought he meant— “Oh my GOD,” she croaked. “You meant marry me?!”

Jinwoo blinked. “...What else would I mean?”

Y/N made a noise. A sound. Some kind of half-choked squeak that didn’t belong to human language. Her brain was melting out of her ears. “I—” she flailed, arms waving. “You—you kissed me like—you were—oh my God—I thought we were gonna—”

Jinwoo tilted his head, clearly confused. “Gonna what?”

Her hands slapped over her face. “NOTHING!! NEVERMIND!!”

Jinwoo’s lips twitched. And then, because he was evil, he leaned forward just a little, still kneeling, still holding the ring. “You thought we were going to…?” His voice dropped an octave.

Y/N let out an embarrassed shriek and turned in a full circle, her arms flailing like she was trying to physically fan herself. “NO-NOTHINGG!” I’m dying I’m dying I’m dying, her brain screamed. DIGNITY? DEAD. SOUL? GONE.

Jinwoo, completely calm, waited patiently with the ring in hand. When she finally, finally turned back to face him—still red as a tomato—he gave her the smallest, softest smile.

“Will you marry me, Y/N?” Like he hadn’t just sent her spiraling into humiliation.

Y/N opened her mouth. No sound came out. She was pretty sure Kaisel was watching from a tower window and Beru was somewhere behind a pillar holding up a 「 SAY YES 」 sign.

Finally, she slapped both hands over her burning face and muttered through her fingers, “…Yes.”

Jinwoo slipped the ring onto her finger with a reverence that made her stomach flip all over again. Then he stood and, without a word, pulled her into a hug. Her face squished against his chest, still red, still hiding. “You’re mine,” he said simply.

And Y/N, muffled against his shirt, groaned, “I thought I was gonna lose my virginity, not my last name.”

“…What?”

“I SAID NOTHING!”

<< Chapter 15 | Chapter 17 >>

Tag requests: @kisssleeping; @catsf0rlife707; @aorifukuzawa; @joannthebish; @ojog404; @tanspostsblog; @snowy-violet; @o-qi-shisme; @sleepyamaya; @harrystylesfan2686; @night-shadowblood-writes2; @weaponxgames; @bubera974; @moonlightsof; @puplehazzes; @limerenceisserenity;

[evergone]

Rumours

Theodore Nott x Reader

Warnings: swearing.

Description: Theo and the reader aren't particularly close friends until a storm terrifies the reader, and Theo has to take her to her room. Scandal ensues.

Night began to ride in on the back of a storm and through the large windows looking out into the lake you could see schools of fish swimming further down to hide amongst the weeds and mud below the dungeon. Wrapped in a large cream coloured goat’s wool blanket, and layered in both a brown cotton jumper and your green-lined robe, you found warmth by the crackling fireplace as you sped through your Potions homework, well aware that you would never get it completely finished by Monday when it was due. Vanilla and chamomile candles lit themselves around the long common room and their scent wafted through the space, mixing with the smell of the burning wood and adding to the all-encompassing sense of home.

Lightning struck the lake, the first of what would be many times that night, and you waited anxiously for the oncoming thunder. It broke out from a whimper to a roar, so loud it shook the common room, and the two green glass bottles sat atop the elaborate stone mantelpiece of the fireplace swayed into each other with a quiet ‘clink!’ as if making a toast. Stress seized your mind, and while you contemplated moving away from the windows, you couldn’t find it in yourself to get up. Just about frozen from phonophobia, as well as from your complete mortification at the thought that someone unkind could discover this fear, you scribbled over your homework parchment absentmindedly.

As another bolt of lightning met with the lake, the entrance to the common room swung open and the ever-familiar voice of your dearest friend, Pansy Parkinson, and some of your other housemates disturbed the mostly silent space. Gaze transfixed on your homework, you didn’t notice them make their way across the deep green and shining silver mosaic floors until Theodore Nott overly fondly pushed you further to the edge of the lounge you were on and stole half of the blanket from you as he sat down. Thunder raged again in the gloomy, storm-charged atmosphere, twice as loud as the groups’ conversation and your body tightened to a tense.

As Theo made himself more comfortable, he threw you an awkward smile as a swift apology for invading your personal bubble.

The two of you were hardly friends, just friends-of-friends, and it was for no reason other than the convenience of the group that you were ever in each other’s company. Occasionally, there would be a free period that you’d both spend in the library and whoever had gotten there first would wave the other over and you’d sit together, but you’d only ever do your homework quietly across from each other. No chatting, no socialising, not even a ‘how are you liking the weather?’ You were fine with this, though, as both Theo and yourself were private people. Or, at least, you pretended to be fine with the unspoken arrangement.

“You okay?” he asked, interrupting your train of thought when his hand met the section of blanket covering your knee, and the earthly wonders he had for eyes met yours.

He must have felt you when you tensed.

Simplicity was an attribute of Theo’s that you truly admired and adored. He never said a word more than he needed to. You shook your head meekly like a shy child on her first day in kindergarten. Mascara seemed the only barrier stopping you from turning your lashes into a lawn covered in morning dew — you wouldn’t be seen having it run down your face, how would you possibly hide that from the judgemental eyes of the Slytherin population? Seeming to disregard your nonverbal response as a lie, Theo waved his wand and the snake-patterned blackout curtains fell over the windows, putting a distance between the common room and the outside world.

“Is it the noise?” he guessed in a hushed tone, careful not to draw the attention of any of the others.

“Mhm,” you hummed as your cheeks reddened (Merlin be damned for letting him of all people figure you out), “Could you get Pansy to walk me to my room?”

Over on the other lounge, Pansy sat preoccupied in Draco’s lap, twiddling her short black hair between her pointer and her thumb, and laughing in an obnoxious manner at a story Blaise had started to tell almost twenty minutes earlier in the courtyard. It was some long reach piece of gossip about one of those Weasley kids — Fred? George? One of the other ones whose names Theo couldn’t remember for the life of him? He hadn’t really been paying much attention. Rested in the back pocket of Pansy’s jeans was Draco’s hand, holding her firmly on top of him. Safe to say, Theo wouldn’t be pulling those two apart inconspicuously.

“I’ll take you,” he told you.

Softly, he abandoned the blanket that once sheltered you from the nibbling chill of the late-Spring air and stood up. Both Blaise and Draco noticed this and each raised a pitch black or platinum blonde brow respectively as a questioning gesture of Theo’s motives as he held his hand out to help you up. With Theo as your guide and support, you made your way up to your room, stopping halfway up the stairs when another bang of thunder made you jump and he had to grab your forearms to make sure you didn’t fall over. You apologised awkwardly, and avoided his gaze as best you could while cherishing every moment in which his hands were on you.

At your door, you made sure to thank him profusely and honoured him with an I-owe-you which he refused to acknowledge. After ensuring you would be okay, he returned to the common room and sat in the seat he had left. Blaise had made himself comfortable where you’d once been, and the entire group stopped their conversation in favour of silence.

“The fuck was that?” Draco asked loudly.

Thunder continued to rumble overhead in the grey of the storm, adding to the grandeur of the Slytherin common room that Draco’s obscenity disregarded. Unbothered and unwilling to explain your personal troubles to the king of being the opposite of understanding, Theo just shrugged in response, and focused in on the black-furred cat that had made its way into their area as he listened to the storm as if it were music.

“Oh, shit…” Pansy said, the realisation that you had been scared by the storm finally hitting her, “I gotta go.”

Leaving Draco with an affectionate peck on the cheek, Pansy retreated upstairs, likely to go take care of you, Theo presumed. In her wake, Draco and Blaise erupted into questions. A muddle of ‘are you guys dating?’s and ‘actually what the fuck’s and ‘I didn’t even know you liked her’s were thrown at Theo who had no ulterior motives behind taking you upstairs, he had just done so out of the simple kindness of his heart. Slytherins being Slytherins, however, couldn’t fathom that he would do anything purely out of kindness. Kindness didn’t come naturally in a house dedicated to ambition and self-preservation.

“You like her, Theo, admit it.”

“Shove off, Draco,” Theo spat, pulling the blanket back over himself, “You don’t know anything.”

“Defensive!” Blaise laughed and poked his friend’s shoulder, “You are the closest to her out of all of us guys.”

Truthfully, you and Theo did spend an awful lot of time together. But that was only out of consequence, the fact that you both thoroughly enjoyed reading meant you were both always in the library looking through the hundreds or possibly thousands of leather-bound books, and you seemed to frequently happen upon each other. Outside of the library, your time was limited only to group activities because you sat next to Pansy or Daphne Greengrass in almost every class you shared with Theo and never spoke to him. He didn’t think anything of your time together. Surely, there wasn’t much to think. Right? The pair of you — no, there wasn’t any “pair” to begin with, say, the individuals of you, yes, that’s right, the individuals. The individuals of you were just happy acquaintances, nothing more.

The fire was hardly big enough to keep Theo warm against the backdrop of a fiercely windy night that had turned even the secluded dungeons cold. Even under all its fur, the cat who had made itself comfortable right up next to the flames looked still to be shivering in the crisp air. It jumped up off the floor, where the stone mosaics weren’t warming up at all, and squished itself between Blaise and Theo.

“You know, she barely even talks to us,” Draco started, “We’re her friends, of course, but when Pansy or Daphne or you aren’t there she goes all quiet.”

“And she clearly trusts you, whatever that whole thing was—” Blaise made circular motions with his arms to refer to Theo taking her to her room— “She didn’t trust any of us with it.”

Theo huffed, “She wanted Pansy, but she was busy with his hand on her ass, I had an…” He searched for the right word, “Obligation to help.”

“Because Theodore Nott is renowned for helping people,” Draco scoffed, his tongue dripping with sarcasm.

By the time you were crouched over a table in the library the next morning, making a desperate last-ditch effort to complete that Potions homework before third period, the storm had subsided. Unfortunately for you, your most outspoken friend, Daphne, had brought with her a storm of her own.

“I heard a rumour,” Daphne began as she pinned her blonde side fringe back behind her ear.

“Oh, here we go!” Pansy sighed.

Numerous scrolls of parchment were littered over the desk in the library that the three of you had made your own and Pansy was sorting frantically through them looking for all the ones with her handwriting on them — she couldn’t even remember the amount she had written on. Stacks of books on the fundamentals of potions, charms and transfiguration threaded themselves between the scrolls and threatened to fall as her inattentive sorting had her reaching over and around them sloppily. With a creak, you leaned back in your chair taking a blind gander under the desk to find another three scrolls forgotten on the elephant print, medieval-style rug that covered the wooden floors and handed them to her.

“According to hearsay, you and Theo are having some kind of fling,” Daphne continued, “Care to comment, Y/n, my dear friend?” She held a fist out towards to mimic a reporter holding a microphone.

“Who told you that?” You asked, furrowed brows adorning your face like a weighted crown as you slapped her hand away.

She shrugged then took her own scrolls which were contained in a pile on a separate but close-by desk, and put them into the spacey grey-black satchel slung over her shoulder. Clock striking the hour, your two companions bid you adieu as they headed for Ghoul Studies. Unsure whether she had found all her scrolls, Pansy took one last glance at the desk before giving up altogether, stating that if she didn’t have it then it surely wasn’t important.

Left alone to drown in your inability to finish this Merlin-darned homework, your mind wandered to the somewhat unsavoury rumour concerning yourself and Theo that was supposedly making the rounds. Details of the night prior came back in sections, split up by bursts of terror ignited by the loud storm. Most of your memories were from the latter half of the night, curled up in Pansy’s arms singing to the wizarding hits of the last five or so decades. However, the earlier moments lingered on your side and your hand — the everlasting effects of Theo’s touch. By Salazar, what you wouldn’t give to feel him again.

As if your thoughts were summons, the very boy with whom you were engaged in the beginnings of a tumultuous scandal entered your space in the library. Drawing back the chair Pansy had once claimed beside you, Theo sat down, and set some parchment and ink on the desk alongside your books and half-finished assignments. He ran a hand through his tawny brown curls, breaking his near-perfect side part as his chest rose and fell with every heavy breath.

“You look exhausted,” you smiled, taking notice of his sweat slicked forehead.

You’d never started a conversation with him before.

“I spent the morning playing quidditch with Draco,” he said with a hint of anger.

You laughed gently and missed as the sound lit a spark in Theo’s eyes, convincing him to move his seat closer to yours. Surrounding the two of you was an air as warm as a campfire at school camp, or the fireplace under stockings on Christmas Day, or the oven after baking a fresh loaf of bread. Burdened by your workload, you dug straight back into your tasks, but Theo had other ideas. Parchment was less hardy than paper, and so your homework scroll was starting to fray, piquing his interest as he took a lose thread between his fingers and toyed with it. Eyes slimmed, brow raised, you sent him a look of confusion.

“Let’s not do our work today,” he announced.

“And do what instead?” You questioned, already having disregarded your quill in the inkpot, turned wild by the promise of adventure.

Easily, Theo stood up and raised his arms to stretch out his tall spine letting a set of cracks run down it from his shoulders to his hips. The black band of his underwear exposed itself as his white button-up school shirt lifted above his belly button, and you caught yourself mid-stare at his happy trail. He made a place for himself behind your chair, his upper body leant over your head like a tree you were using for shade as he inspected the shelves full of ancient books before you. If you had died right there, you would certainly have died happy.

He was looking for something to impress you (though he couldn’t exactly justify why he’d become suddenly inclined to do such a thing), something that would gain your attention, something he could recommend so you could go back to him to talk about it. For him to find that, you would have to leave the education section in favour of the leisure section. He held his hand out to assist you in standing for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, and you took it again; his high body temperature, and calm but bored aura encompassed you at the touch of your palms. When he let go, he waved the very same hand over your belongings to cast a spell that would pack everything into your brown leather shoulder bag that was leaning idly on the leg of your chair.

“Give me a sec,” he whispered, cautious of Madam Pince’s omni-audient ear.

There wasn’t a single book he could think of that he didn’t know you had already read. Always the avid reader, you were, from the moment you learnt the alphabet it seemed you couldn’t live without a book in one hand and a pencil for annotating in the other. When he finally came across something he thought you’d like, a compilation of poetry by some witch named Winters, he hurried back to lead you elsewhere.

You followed him like a stray puppy would follow the scent of food, and he took you outside to sit below two wych elms whose branches were tangled like lovers. Blooming expanses of creeping thyme coloured the soles of your shoes a pale pink-purple as you crushed them under your feet; you would be ever grateful for the house elves when they cleaned it off for you. Pollen tickled your nose and pricked your eyes, the sun’s rays created a sheen of light across the Black Lake, and the skies had cleared completely, leaving a blue vastness to watch over the castle.

Theo laid down and passed you the poetry book, “For you.”

Taking it from him and flipping through the pages, you nodded your thanks and rested your head on the ground next to him. Human silence overcame the little space you two had made for yourselves and the sounds of nature, birds chirping, bees buzzing, leaves rustling, were the only things left to be heard anywhere near. In the distance, there was a faint echo of classes being taught, but so far away that it you wouldn’t be able to hear it unless you strained yourself immensely.

“Did you finish that potions homework?” Theo asked.

Another laugh escaped your mouth, “When have I ever finished potions homework on time?” You said with a newfound confidence, “Snape takes five house points from me in every class.”

An amused close-lipped smile spread across his face, “And here I’ve taken you away from your studying.”

“I wouldn’t have done it anyway,” you sighed, content with your predicament.

Frost-speckled grass kissed your cheek as you turned to look at him, the remnants of Winter still lasted so far into Spring. Theo turned as well, taking in every scar, freckle and acne bump that was blessed by belonging to you.

“Let’s read this together,” you said, and opened to the first page of the book he had found for you.

“No!” He rushed out, stealing it back, and placing it on the other side of him.

Confusion danced a ballet over your soft features while a blush spun savagely over his strong, sharp traits. One of your arms, your right that was furthest away from him, reached across his body in blind hope to find the gift he had so abruptly rescinded. The mole above his mouth slinked forward as he bit his bottom lip, and slid the book under the curve of his back so you’d never be able to grab it. Nevertheless, you flipped onto your stomach and shot your hand underneath him, crumbling as you got stuck under his weight.

“What are you doing?” You giggled, “Why can’t I read it?”

“I want to get it right,” explained Theo, “I picked this out on a whim, give me some time to choose something better suited for you, yeah?” You frowned so he quickly added, “Please?”

Under long lashes that appeared almost naked without the layers of mascara you usually covered them with, your enthralling e/c irises stared at him, teleporting him into the mazes of your mind where he intended to get lost. Retracting your frown and wriggling your arm out from underneath him, you lazed the side of your forehead against his shoulder which, to both yours and Theo’s surprise, struck up an affectionate sensation in your chests. From your position you could feel the way his heart pushed and pulled the blood through his veins and arteries, the tender ‘dun-dun’ of his heartbeat causing his whole body to pulse to an organised rhythm.

Five years you had known Theo and while one wouldn’t be wrong to call you associates, I must reiterate that you were never really friends. Seeing him in the library during your corresponding free periods was nice, you supposed, but you suddenly realised that you hated how far you drifted outside of the library’s book-covered walls. The previous night had been the first time in what was likely forever that you had spoken exclusively to one another without the guidance of a third party. Really, you just wanted to get to know him better, see the sides of him that didn’t show during a dead-silent hour alone in the library.

“Well, since you asked so politely,” you said with a sincere smile.

Theo opened his mouth to respond but was cut off before he was given the chance by Daphne’s high-pitched, intrusive voice screaming at you from across the field of creeping thyme, “You whores are never beating these allegations!”

Her volume gave you half a heart attack and you jolted upright, deserting Theo’s shoulder, and glancing over your own to see Daphne approaching the two of you with Blaise, Pansy, Draco, Tweedledum and Tweedle-dee on her heel. Clearly, the bell had rung for break, but between your great library escape and book shenanigan, neither of you had cared to check the time. How the others had found you was beyond your capacity to think as you waited for your heart to settle and your forehead to cease sweating following Daphne’s ear-piercing entrance.

“What allegations?” He asked her, thick eyebrows glaring, not at her, but at the content of her conversation.

“Y/n didn’t tell you?” She said, “You’ve been swept up in a scandal. Everyone thinks you guys are getting it on.”

Vulgar motions were made with her hands, sending Crabbe and Goyle into a bout of immature laughter. Flushed red with embarrassment, you avoided the look Theo was more-than-likely throwing your way by connecting your own line of vision with Pansy’s. She bit her tongue, widened her eyes, and nodded harshly in Theo’s direction, urging you to look at him. But you were so terribly embarrassed that you took to your feet, and ran away from your friends, ignoring them as they called out for you to come back.

You found the first broom closet that would open at the utterance of ‘Alohomora,’ and found solace in the cramped, yet perfectly concealed hiding spot. As your hands came up to cover your eyes, the humiliation of, not only the rumour, or the fact that you were caught in such a compromising position with Theo, but of the fact that you had fooled yourself into starting to think that you and Theo were building something, overcame you. Once you decided the coast would be clear, and your friends would have all returned to their classes, you opened the broom closet door, your eyes stinging with the remains of tears.

Standing before you with a look of knowing and understanding that was so much beyond friendliness, was Theo. His hands were in his pockets, and he had slung both your bag and his own over his wide shoulders.

“How did you find me?” You said quietly, and wiped your eyes, hoping you could hide their inevitable redness.

“The others were headed to Potions, but I heard you sobbing, and thought I should wait until you were ready to come out,” he responded just as softly.

“Why would you do that? You know Snape doesn’t take late homework submissions! You’re coming third-in-class!” You exclaimed.

Worry flashed behind your eyes, and he quickly leant down, and reached out to cup your face in his large, calloused hands, “Hey, hey, it’s alright! I took you away from your study first, Y/n, it’s only fair that we both fail.”

That classic frown of yours graced your beautiful features, and Theo had to withhold the urge to sigh with infatuation. It was a blessing to behold you, even when your cheeks and eyes were so puffy and irritated, and your nose was beginning to run a little. However gross it was was eclipsed by how perfect you were.

“Why are you so upset, huh?” He asked you in a gentle tone.

A small sniffle preceded your reply, “There’s this tasteless rumour about us, and I was just starting to realise how much I like being around you, and now it’s all ruined!”

Theo laughed his mellifluous, musical laugh which frustrated you into an even deeper frown, then he said, “A stupid rumour couldn’t ruin us.”

Glancing up at him, you allowed your frown to soften. He had said ‘us.’ What in the world did that mean? What, or who, was ‘us?’ Did he mean the two of you? Your thoughts ran as rampant and crazy as they had earlier when he first proposed the idea of skipping out on your study period. Quickly, you began to hypothesise all sorts of meanings and justifications for his choice of words.

“And, for the record, I love being around you, too,” he said.

Without warning, your body became charged with that uncharacteristic confidence that had only started to appear the night before, and you leant in to place your forehead on Theo’s. He looked downright idiotic from that angle, but you saw firsthand how his line of vision flickered down to your lips, and back up to your eyes. And you thought, if people must think you’re messing around with someone, you wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.

“Would you like to — Do you want to…?” You had read hundreds of books on romance, but still you couldn’t think of the words.

“Can I…?” Neither, it seems, could he.

You placed your hand on the back of his neck, and pulled him in. His lips were were raging fires, yours were wax, melting at the touch of heat. Notes of nutmeg and cypress hit your nose — his cologne. His hands gripped your waist, just lower than could be written off as friendly, and he kissed you so passionately that any onlooker would think the rumours so obviously confirmed.

Eventually, he pulled away, and you just stared at each other in total wonder. There was no way you could possibly discredit those rumours now.

[vesperaink]

Friends, my necromancer!Tango/grimreaper!Jimmy, Team Rancher modern with magic apocalypse AU, Graveyard Shift, for @mcytblraufest's Reverse Big Bang is here!

But wait there's more--go read chasing crimson written by @aliferous-ly, beta'd by @dibs2win, my fantastic team for aufest. If you love enemies to lovers, unlikely partnerships, and the power of soul-bound magic weapon contracts, this hilarious + dramatic 22.9k fic kicks off from this comic!

chasing crimson

Jimmy Solidarity works for the esteemed god of Death, reaping lost souls and taking care of unsavory characters. He's recently finished his training, and is determined to do well on his first solo mission. Perhaps this "Tango" would be a good start. Only, the god of Death disappeared years ago, and Necromancer Tango Tek's long since discovered a way around dying. He can't say he enjoys Jimmy swinging through and killing him where he stands, though.

Thank you to my team for being as feral about this AU as I am, and kicking everything about it up to 110. I had so much developing this world with them!

Thanks to @onawhimsicot for helping me with the comic's dialogue, fixing my composition woes with "just add more smoke," and encouraging me to complete it in full color! Check out Cadence's aufest fic, I take it back (ill follow till I fly or till im dead), a Cult of the Lamb AU about follower!Tango and Lamb!Zedaph, the meaning of devotion, silly experiments, eldritch transformations, and...the most platonic slowburn ever?

Lastly, thank you to the aufest team for another wonderful event! I had a blast again, and was giggling kicking my feet at everyone's reactions during claims, I loved every single one of them. Graveyard Shift is definitely an AU I'm coming back to. As always, my askbox is open if you'd like to chat, and I'd love to be tagged if anyone makes anything <3

Timelapse / AU art chatter under the cut!

While Graveyard Shift is the amalgamation of many of my interests, the main premise for this AU is loosely inspired by the webcomic, I'm the Grim Reaper, in both its apocalypse themes and its aesthetics! Not a required read, but highly recommend if you enjoy this au, as well as the anime and manga, Soul Eater!

I came up with a lot of AUs for this event but necromancer!Tango and reaper!Jimmy have been rattling around in my brain in separate AUs since before I started brainstorming for aufest. So I smashed them together, naturally.

(Unfortunately I didn't record all of my process, but most of it is here! CW for flashing; song is Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene by Hozier)

I could go on forever about concept art and character design if anyone's curious but here's some fun bonus details about this comic:

Originally, Tango's outfit was going to be more like his Dungeon Master outfit but I wanted the setting to be more modern and Jimmy stole the fantasy cloak vibe from him already lol

Jimmy's entrance of lightning is my nod to the Life Series final death sound

The scarf Jimmy's wearing is designed to be a boneyard shawl

The panel of strange text reads "Protection Three" in Galactic :)

+ The name "Graveyard Shift" was thrown at me by Cadence in like 3 seconds flat after i spent 2 days agonizing over a name for this au LOL

[sofreddie]

Not What You Wanted - Part 2

Summary: Sam and Dean begin to discover who Y/N is while she struggles with a rude awakening that foils her plans.

Characters: F!Fan!Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Gadreel, Crowley

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Canon Divergent AU (Season 9/10), Angst, Injuries, Kidnapping

WC: 3,192

A/N: I working on creating a masterlist for the series. Please let me know if you requested a tag but aren't seeing anything. Some tags get lost in the notes, and others haven't received notifications. New chapters are posted every Friday.

Series Masterlist

Part 1

Sam hated that he had to lock his brother, Dean, in the dungeon of the Bunker. But after the Angel Gadreel showed up unexpectedly and Dean had slit him across the torso with the First Blade, they had no choice. The Mark of Cain that his older brother wore was changing Dean into an angry, violent, bloodthirsty being. It also took its toll on Sam, who struggled to see his brother held captive by an ancient and powerful force. He was determined to rid Dean of the Mark and to battle whatever consequences came their way until then. 

Now, however, Sam was headed with Cas to try and find Gadreel after only locating the pool of blood on the War Room floor where he once sat. He couldn't have gotten far with his injury. It wasn't long before the pair came upon Gadreel's vehicle pulled off the side of the road. A quick inspection showed even more blood, pools of it leading in a trail off into the thick underbrush that grew alongside the road.

Noticing their presence, Gadreel tried with little strength to move away from them, but it was useless. Castiel knelt beside him, raising a hand to heal the Angel's wound.

"No, Castiel," Gadreel protested. "Your grace-"

Castiel dismissed his concern, healing him anyway. Sam listened as they talked of Metatron and Angel Radio.

"I can sense God," Gadreel spoke, looking into Castiel's eyes questioningly. “Has He returned?”

“Yes, I tracked a source of God's power on Earth. God brought someone here,” Cas continued, with a sigh, looking at Sam directly. “I believe you met her - which was why I could smell that connection on you both. She’s your soulmate,” he stated to Sam. “Yours and Dean’s.”

Sam looked at Cas; the silence between them stretched out as Sam processed what he was hearing.

That must have been why he and Dean had both felt so off. Like lightning to his brain, Sam realized it had to be her, the woman who emerged from the woods. It was too coincidental that she came from the same direction Cas was sensing the power, and both he and Dean felt so weird after leaving her at the bus station. But now? Now, he just felt anger. Castiel flat-out lied to them about the woman, about their Soulmate.

"Why?" Sam demanded through clenched teeth. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because I figured that we all had enough to focus on as is, Sam," Castiel argued. "I fully intended to investigate further at a later time."

"You intended?" Sam echoed. "You know, it seems to me that something like my soulmate would be something I want to decide about."

"I can help you find her," Gadreel offered, trying again to prove himself to the Winchesters.

"I can't sense her anymore," Cas muttered before meeting Sam's angered gaze. "Either she's been warded, or she's-"

Sam bit back the growl that rumbled in his throat. "You two, figure out what Metatron is up to."

"Where are you going?" Cas shouted after Sam's retreating form. 

Sam didn't respond, but he didn't need to. Cas knew he was going back to see if he could find the woman, still feeling she was a distraction and burden at the most inopportune time. But he also knew if God had sent her, she might be necessary.

"Let him handle it, Brother," Gadreel insisted. "He will call for help if needed, yes?"

-

With Dean locked safe in the Bunker's dungeon for the time being and Castiel working the Metatron angle with Gadreel, Sam returned to the bus station in Lebanon, hoping to pick up the trail.

A freaking soulmate?! If he were honest, he'd understand why he felt the way he did around and apart from her. Dean had felt it, too. He was pissed at Cas for keeping it from them for sure. But he had to be pissed at themselves for not listening to their guts - or hearts - and even pretty pissed at her for running.

She had to have felt it. Whatever she said about a 'boyfriend' was why she ran. Issues with men? However, Chuck had brought her there, so she must have known something. Either about Chuck's plan or about him and his brother. Did she know she was their soulmate?

He was driving himself in crazy circles and decided treating it like any other case would be an excellent place to start. So he began by talking to the attendant who guided him to the station manager, using his FBI badge and spouting some words about a potential suspect in a case to gain access.

"She bought a ticket," the young female station manager spoke, batting her eyes at Sam. "Asked for the 'longest route with the most stops.'"

"I'm going to need to review the security footage if you don't mind," he said with a tight smile. “I’ll also need a copy of the itinerary.”

The manager escorted him to their security room and introduced him to the guard who worked with him to pull up and review the footage Sam requested. A surprising number of people traveled through this station, and Sam was frustrated at not finding her.

He saw her in the crowd loading onto the buses for a moment, but he never saw her get onto one. He let out a long sigh, rewinding and reviewing the footage again, but he still did not find anything new.

Sam was starting to realize this woman was a lot more clever than they anticipated. She was trying to hide. But was it from this supposed ‘boyfriend’ or them? Sam thought she knew who they were when she came out of those woods, and she used that knowledge to evade them.

Standing in the parking lot next to the Impala, Sam fidgeted with the keys, turning to look up and down the street before him. With a copy of the bus itinerary, he decided to head back to the Bunker to check on Dean and see if he could pick up a trail online.

-

Sleep wouldn’t come for Y/N. She was restless, paranoid, and starving. She forced herself from the bed with a huff, noting it was dark outside. She changed her clothes from the few she had, shoving the items back into her bag and throwing them over her shoulder. Remembering seeing a small diner just a block away, she set out, her hunger finally making itself thoroughly known.

She was on edge, her eyes darting everywhere as she kept an eye out for Chuck or the Winchesters. Part of her said not to worry; they knew nothing and had no reason to come after her. Part of her was paranoid beyond belief. She entered the diner, noting there weren’t many customers. She went to a corner booth in the back where she could see the front door and the restaurant.

“What can I getcha, hun?” The waitress asked, a kind smile on her face. Y/N was momentarily flustered before she placed her order; the waitress wrote it down and smiled again. “It’ll be right out!”

She couldn’t think, and she was beyond tired. Who knew being on the run and in hiding was such hard work? The Winchesters, probably. She scoffed and shook her head, surprised when her food arrived. She must have spaced out for a minute there, the waitress flashing her a worried look before smiling and leaving once more.

Y/N brushed it off, focusing on her meal. She was more than ready to get back to her motel room to attempt to sleep. Seeing a newspaper abandoned by another customer, she quickly slid from her seat to retrieve it and sit back in her booth.

The Lebanon Times, she read the paper's name, then glanced over the date: May 20, 2014. Damn, she was many years in the past from her timeline and world. Closing her eyes to focus, Y/N tried to think about which season and year it was. She did the math, counting the seasons and remembering the story arcs. Her eyes flashed open at her conclusion, and she swallowed hard, hoping she just really sucked at math or was confused about the story.

She hastily finished her meal, leaving more than enough to cover the food and tip on the table, and slunk out the front with her bag slung over her shoulder and the newspaper clutched in her hand. She just needed some rest, and she could review the paper in the morning to see if there were any jobs she could pick up without questions or paperwork. Maybe if she stayed local, she could keep an eye from a distance, and they'd never suspect she'd stay so close. 

-

The car door opened, and the man got comfortable in the backseat before closing the door behind him.

“She’s in there?” 

“Yes, Sir,” the man reported, his eyes flashing black. “We followed the energy signal, and it led us here. Steven and Charles are in the room next to hers.”

“A woman,” Crowley smirked, finishing his glass of whiskey and glancing out the car window to the motel room door that hid their prize. “Let’s go introduce ourselves.”

Crowley and his minions barged into the small, dingy motel room with relative ease and uncaring of the commotion. The woman in question rose from her slumber but was too slow and weak to fend off the demons that held her fast.

“Let me go!” Y/N roared, struggling against the demons that held her arms, her kicks doing nothing to impede them.

“So this is the mysterious woman that God has brought?” Crowley mused, stepping closer to examine her.

Y/N’s eyes widened in recognition; the King of Hell stood before her, studying her like some archeological find.

“What’s your name?” Crowley asked, amused at her stubborn silence and glare. “The hard way then,” he smirked, snapping his fingers and watching as the demons dragged her off to the waiting car, “I love the hard way.”

Their surroundings shook, causing Crowley to sigh in annoyance. 

“You’re being summoned, Sir,” one of the demons provided. “By a Winchester.”

“So it would seem,” Crowley spoke casually as he straightened his suit. “Take her to my palace and secure her in a room. I will be there shortly.”

The demon nodded, and Crowley watched as the hired car drove off. With a snap of his fingers, he vanished, wondering what the Mark-ridden, flannel-wearing nuisance needed this time.

-

Dean knelt before the bowl on the dungeon floor, settling himself after violently vomiting. He couldn't believe his brother and friend would go so far as to lock him in the dungeon. Probably pissed about the dictatorship thing, he mused.

Lighting a match and dropping it into the bowl, he watched the summoning ingredients spark in flame. Seeing Crowley appear before him, he rose to his feet, rubbing at the Mark on his arm.

“What the hell is happening to me, you son of a bitch?” Dean asked, his concern shining through.

“Liquor before beer, bad taco? How should I know?”

“I can't turn it off! Ever since I killed Abaddon, it's like this whole...other thing. I get this high, and I-I-I need to kill. I mean, I really, really need to kill. And if I don't –”

“You yak your guts out. It's the Mark.”

“Meaning?”

“It wants you to kill. The more you kill, the better you feel. The less you kill, the less better you feel.”

“How much less better?”

“One would imagine the least-best better.”

“So dead?” Dean shrugged, scoffing at Crowley's acknowledgment. “Well, Cain had the Mark. He didn't die.” 

“Cain was a demon. Your body's not strong enough to contain the blade's power.”

“What if I got rid of it?”

“You want to get rid of it?”

“What I want is Metatron.”

“Go on.”

“But I have to get through that door, and I have to get to the blade. And you're going to help me.” Dean commanded, leveling his gaze at the demon, who smirked back.

Crowley was more than eager to comply, snapping his fingers. The doors to the room swung open, and Dean walked out, intent on finding the blade.

"You seem…different," Crowley remarked as he followed Dean. "Some sort of power coming off of you. Faint; not from the Mark," he pondered aloud.

Crowley could tell Dean had come in contact with the woman, a faint hint of that energy about him. However, he wasn’t sure if Dean knew he had met the woman. Or, as he could now sense, that she had a connection to them. Crowley smirked, determined to test her and see if his theories were correct. 

Dean entered the Library, ignoring Crowley’s questioning and knowing he wouldn't tell him a thing—not if what Castiel said was true. Then Crowley was the last being he should speak to. Seeing a sigil box on one of the tables, Dean rushed to it with a huff, finding it unlocked.

"You think Moose would've made more of an effort to hide it," Crowley rolled his eyes, watching Dean remove the blade from the box and cloth.

"Thanks," Dean offered, his blade still tightly held in his right hand as he turned to face Crowley. "Now you should leave."

Crowley was ready to argue, to demand Dean join him in exchange for being set free. But the sight of the First Blade gripped tightly in Dean's hand, the Mark pulsing with its own life on his forearm, had him second-guessing. Not only that but there was still the question of the woman he now held captive.

By the next instant, Crowley had vanished. Dean dropped into one of the Library chairs, determined to wait for Sam's return. Sam didn't take long to come through the Bunker door, its loud creak echoing through the concrete halls.

Sam was surprised to see Dean sitting in the library, feet propped on the table. He had a crystal glass in hand and finished the contents, leaving the glass on the table. The box was open, with the blade on the table close to Dean's right hand.

"Dean?" Sam approached with caution. "How'd you get out?"

"Crowley," he answered, leveling a heavy look at Sam. "We need to talk."

"Do you need the blade out to do that?"

Dean had to admit, he loved how Sam was on guard and pensive. Just as Crowley had said, he liked the power of the Mark while also hating what it was doing to him. He glanced at the blade, running his fingers over it gingerly. Wrapping his fingers around it, he held it briefly before tossing it into the sigil box and shutting the lid.

Sam let out his breath, moving to take the seat opposite Dean. He eyed the box, but Dean laid his hand atop it, scooting it closer to himself.

"So…what did you want to talk about?" Sam began, trying to appear calm, but Dean could still sense his defense.

Since Crowley's words and disappearance, he thought about this for a while. After meeting that woman, he and Cas had mentioned sensing a power about him. 

"The woman from the woods," Dean spoke, Sam sucking in a breath but nodding.

"What do you know?"

"What do you know?" Dean countered with a suspicious glare.

Sam let out a huff of air, leaning his forearms on the table. “Cas and I found Gadreel,” he began, eyeing his brother warily. “When Cas healed him, Gadreel said he could sense God's power, too.”

Dean’s upper lip curled in the corner as he growled under his breath. Sam wasn’t sure telling Dean what he had learned was such a good thing, as he was already riled. But he wasn’t about to withhold it the same as Cas had done. 

“Castiel said the power he felt in the woods and on us…he thinks she’s our soulmate. Our shared soulmate,” he huffed with a shake of his head. “I think she might know who we are and is running from us," Sam admitted the thought he'd had earlier, handing over the bus itinerary for Dean to leaf through.

What the fuck was happening?! Dean thought to himself as he ran his fingers roughly through his hair, tugging on the short strands in frustration. God finally decides to show up to do something. But it’s not to stop Metatron or help the Angels or deal with the Mark or anything fucking helpful! No! He doesn’t even show his face; he just zaps some woman into the woods, makes her a Winchester soulmate, and then releases her into a chaotic world. 

She was their soulmate, supposed to be with them, and he’d just let her slip right through his fingers. He was so preoccupied with everything else that he wouldn’t even let himself think over the weirdness he felt because of her. Now, it seemed, he’d pay for that decision, too. Just like every other thing he did. Making the wrong choices and fucking up everything he tried to accomplish, the lives of those around him. Now, with the Mark - pulsing away with an evil lifeforce all its own, worming its way through his veins - he knew it would only worsen.

Still, that selfish and scared little boy inside him - the one still soft and tender and who yearned for love and family and to be held until he fell asleep - begged him to pursue her: to find this woman, their soulmate. As small as it was, it urged him almost as urgently as the Mark itself.

"She could've got off at any of these stops," Dean complained, successfully hiding his inner turmoil from his features.

"Yeah, and Cas said he couldn't sense her anymore. So she's either warded or-"

"Dead," Dean finished, dropping the papers to the table.

Why would she have run if God had sent this woman here for them? Thinking over everything in their lives, he assumed she had to know about them, or else why would she have run? She was smart, already finding ways to disappear and keep herself from detection. He didn't believe she was dead.

"So," Dean sighed. "How do we find her?"

"You want to find her?" Sam answered with surprise. "I mean, I just thought, what with everything, that you'd be against it or wouldn't really care."

The silence stretched so long that Sam was sure Dean was about to explode in rage. Yet, he remained calm, chewing over his thoughts and tasting the words before he spoke.

"Cain had a woman he called his soulmate - his wife - who he said helped calm him and the Mark," Dean explained, too ashamed to meet Sam's eyes lest he find deep-rooted judgment.

"Okay," Sam nodded, accepting Dean's reasoning. 

Sam had his reasons for wanting to find her. He wasn't ready to tell anyone, but he was happy and excited about the prospect of a soulmate. She may be different from the others. She could break the cycle of lovers who died or left them. Maybe she was here to save them from themselves.

PART 3

FOREVERS:

@lyarr24

@hobby27

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@440mxs-wife

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@leigh70

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DEAN WINCHESTER:

@slamminmine

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@awkward-and-indecisive

@akshi8278

@mimaria420

SAM WINCHESTER:

@b3autyfuldisast3r

NOT WHAT YOU WANTED:

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@piptoost

@deans-yn

@kr804573

@stariou 

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@evilunicorns4minions 

@colours-of-thewind  

@qharper-london

[the-white-void]

Fabula occurrit finis

Synopsis: "No matter what sort of GOD I am, in this vessel, I am MORTAL."

Taglist: @kthehoeforfictionalmen @pix-stuff @kthehoeforfictionalmen @time-shardz @scarletttcroww @mysteriaqueen @atsukawolfcat @junkoslette @mefOrgOr @altheqo @obliviousariies2007 @mmeatt @quacking-simp @amnervous @resident-cryptid @etherisy @gallantys @ccybersins @angelofdarkness2 @eliciana @weirdducky17 @chidouna

One || Four || Five.

"Overseer..." You whisper with a hoarse and cracked voice as the blood vessels pop around your eyes while you strain them in anger hearing that damned title being uttered.

You hung your head back down to face them, your eyes tinted with golden blood as you stare at them with rage. "Say that again, and you'll get a taste of what the 'Overseer' can do." Your hoarse and wretched tone made the two on the other side of the bars take a step back.

Your eyes remain glaring at both Nahida and the Wanderer. After some time, you release the bars from your grasp and return to a lax state like before. "Good... Now, what else are you here for?" Your tone returned to its early cheery attitude like a robot getting its settings reset.

The two outside the bars step back, wary and trepidation on their feet from your uncanny and inhumane movements. "You... All those lives... every loop... you-" Nahida whispered as she tried to ease you enough to make you explain to her more only to be cut off with a glare that could split mountains like butter.

"Don't overstep your boundaries. The only reason I haven't snapped Teyvat to oblivion was because..." Your voice trails off, and your piercing gaze softens as you are reminded of when this world was once bright and colourful to you, how the grass and the wind felt like a breath of spring grazing your skin.

Wanderer notices your body softening, a moment of weakness compared to your eccentrically inhumane behaviour before, perhaps a chance to penetrate your cold exterior. But that plan was quickly put aside when you stood back up again. Although you were still a sulking figure, the aura you were emitting made you untouchable.

You heave a small sigh knowing the real reason why couldn't let go of this world aside from the joyful memories you made here. "... I am still human after all. If I destroy Teyvat, I will simply die along with it due to my mortality." Your soft whisper echoed across the dungeon as you stepped forward with your hand gently holding the bars of your cell.

"You merely caught a glance of the countless loops I've had. It doesn't hurt anymore, it's no different than waking up from yesterday and doing the same old routine." You spoke softly as you looked down on her, the space between had never felt so narrow as no one had ever wanted to hear you utter a word from your wretched existence as an imposter of their Divine Overseer.

"There's no point in helping me... In the many loops I've had, I've seen it all. From being an imposter, the Overseer, or simply an envoy of your Overseer... I died by the blade, against age, and illness. "No matter what sort of GOD I am, in this vessel, I am MORTAL."

Nahida and Wanderer eventually left the dungeon and met up with Zhongli who was impatiently waiting for their return — his brows furrowed with downturned lips — clearly dissatisfied with the young god holding up the imposter's execution with her interrogation. "Buer, I respect your place as an archon of the seven, but, why are you defending a traitor, an imposter who besmirches on our Divine Overseer's name!"

"No, they're not! They are the true Divine Overseer! And they have the means to prove it!" The Dendro Godd tries to defend your name only to be silenced when the sound of crackling lightning is heard flashing across the darkened sky before the Shogun makes her presence fill the air as the sound of her heels clacking the stone ground.

"Are you saying they are to be given a trial, Buer?"

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: I thought I wasn't going to have strong opinions about the Laios-Shuro fight, but...

Laios was right about this! Yes, they had 2 physical fights first, but it's important to note that Laios was right about this!

.

^ -man who would literally kill to stay in this room and observe this private conversation.

.

Sir, your unfaltering little wide-eyed, amiable smile while seriously considering topics that are obviously un-smile-worth has charmed me utterly. I wish to study you like an climate-entomologist yearns for the butterfly that causes storms.

.

She seems fine.

.

If I start screencapping Laios's and Marcille's faces in this fight, I will never stop because literally every panel is devasting.

.

Kuro has done distinctly the most damage so far this fight, just stabbing and gnawing, and I think we should recognize and appreciate that fact.

.

I really miss the animation we got of Rin's lightning blast slicing narrowly past Laios.

I love how fast, if reluctantly, Laios accepts that if - not, that Falin is a true "monster", inhuman and hurting people relentlessly and unapologetically, and thus she needs to be killed before she kills them, like any other monster. I also love that Marcille doesn't accept this. Characters!

.

+1 to qualification to kingship! Kabru is one again surprised (you can tell by how he's not smiling) (though this might also be due to the significant injuries he just took).

I do have several emotions about how Falin immediately yanks away and kills Kabru, without touching Laios. That's her brother!!

.

I really like this little cluster because it says to me that Shuro still has very good "do what Marcille says when she abruptly shouts magic-related directions in combat" instincts. He's a mirror of the "You're already on the Christmas card, buddy" meme - more like, "You're still on the Christmas card." Just like Namari: no one really stops being fond of, and battle companions with, these weirdos.

.

I think the most painful part of this probably is that Marcille isn't certain. Maybe this IS her fault. At minimum, she knows she might have mixed the dragon's soul into Falin's, which enabled this even if it didn't create it. But she can't 100% rule out the possibility that it's more her fault than that - which is, of course, the absolute worst thing to say to all of these people looking at her violently askance for using dark magic.

.

yeahhhhhh "Lunatic Magician" REALLY lacks the oomph of "Mad Mage"

ANGRY LAIOS! It's such a rare expression on him, it's exciting to see.

.

Yesss look at my man Chilchuck use available tools in his environment and save this little goober who thinks it's cool to resent adults.

I really like how they show the social consequences of dark magic. Much beyond Shuro's anger: the other mages are now shutting Marcille down, especially where resurrection magic is concerned. She's made herself untrusted by her peers, whether or not the magic she used on Falin is truly "evil."

.

I really enjoy the, like, narratively obligatory, not actually real (well, maybe to Rin) "will they-won't they" between Kabru and Rin. In the story that this isn't, where Kabru is the protagonist with his quirky gang of found family who are helping him save the island and prevent another bloodbath like in his angsty backstory, she IS the One (Human) Female on the Team who is obviously his love interest - often the first to challenge him, battle mage rather than healer ie a Strong Female Character who nonetheless doesn't use unfeminine brute force, forced by happenstance to kiss...

Alas! Kabru is not the protagonist of this story, so Rin shall remain disappointed.

Also this montage of people healing and reuniting while in the background Laios and Shuro whale on each other remains SO funny. Flawless comedic timing.

.

Alright, hot take time: I feel like all the debate I've seen about the Shuro/Laios fight depict it as revealing the friendship basically shattered, and never real in the first place. Whereas I'm mostly warmed by how real it clearly was despite everything that just happened?

Shuro is operating on no food and less sleep, desperate to save the woman he idolizes without truly understanding her loves, who is now apparently a monster who nearly slaughtered his most loyal followers. In the past like 2 weeks, Laios has: watched his sister die to save his life (his little sister, whom he is supposed to protect), walked headfirst into a nigh-unwinnable fight to get her back, held her skull in his hands, got her back and held her in his arms, lost her again about 6 hours later in an even more unwinnable fight, which was proven even more unwinnable when the Mage twisted the dungeon itself against them, saw her again but as a murderous monster now (which might be due to the magic he agreed to use to resurrect her), swiftly and sternly resigned himself to fighting and potentially killing her (his little sister! whom he is supposed to protect!), had her recognize him (and no one else!) despite her monstrosity, watched her be killed (again!) in part thanks to him distracting her, except it didn't work and then she fled.

This is an immature, ignoring-immediate-needs (ie, food, healing) knock-down drag-out fight between two men at the absolute ends of their ropes, who, sure, have built-up resentments against each other and the world, and an inciting incident pushing them over the edge - but mostly neither of them can punch in the face the fact that they can't save Falin. So they punch each other instead.

I won't even address the prologue to the fight, where Laios tells him about the black magic and Shuro promptly tries to strangle him then levels a sword at him. Kabru already nailed that: Shuro was worried about Falin - that the magic had hurt her, that the social consequences would be worse. Laios knew this enough that he didn't fight back, then. But now?

The first shove is Shuro demanding, Don't you fucking DARE give me false hope.

I cannot emphasize enough how hard I would also slap someone for suggesting that I wasn't taking the death and monsterization of my younger sibling seriously.

Shuro knows it, too. He doesn't respond to this, he just punches, and Laios punches back. Shuro doesn't speak again until Laios knocks him all the way down, and

Shuro is at his absolute depth. The lowest point he (feels that he) can go. He cannot save Falin. He's shamed himself as a leader and heir by getting his people killed (they got better, but that's beside the point.) He's been beaten in hand-to-hand combat by this idiot northern peasant. He lets down his guard and pride enough to mutter this self-deprecation aloud...and the idiot northern peasant hears, compounding every shame - and it's infuriating especially because he doesn't even hear properly, just like he never hears properly - he's so frustrating in his friendly but oblivious constant irritation and THIS, Shuro can still be furious about, to avoid his grief/hopelessness/self-loathing/shame. This, he can still fight about!

So he does.

They're both wrong in this fight. They're both right. Laios was consistently inconsiderate; knowing this about himself - because it's not like by his early 20s he didn't know that he didn't Get people the way most people Get people - he should've made more of an effort, and picked up any of the hints Shuro was laying down. Shuro was too caught up in his own pride and out-of-place manners: when it was clear that Laios wasn't going to pick up on even the strongest "hint", he should've said something plainly instead of just letting his resentment build until he was effectively lying to Laios about, if not their entire friendship, certainly the shape of it.

But they were friends. They are friends. This isn't the posture or conversation of two guys who don't like each other.

It's two guys who are still, in fact, fucking exhausted, physically and emotionally - but they just got rid of a lot of extra, furious, helpless energy, so they're finally satisfied to just sit. Their posture is relaxed and casual; their conversation straightforward and companionable, if serious.

This is two guys who've sat like this many time at a campfire, in just these poses. Who've kept watch together late at night and stayed awake by talking.

Laios cares about Falin more than anyone in the world, and even after the words and blows they just exchanged, he's still willing to put Shuro's suit to her. Shuro didn't tell Falin he was interested in her until he proposed to her, but he's telling it all to Laios. Admittedly, this is because Laios is, Shuro assumes, the closest he'll ever get to being able to tell it all to Falin...but still. And he admits vulnerability, which he clearly wouldn't have done before, even to his most loyal and loved companions as they urged him to eat and sleep.

Yeah, they're buddies. If I had to describe it, I'd say: their relationship was built on unsteady, false foundations, but they built something sturdy on it anyway, and the sturdy thing survives even when the foundations shake and re-settle.

Lol at Shuro. "I'm going to report you to the local authorities for your crimes because it's the right thing to do. But if you survive, I'll totally use my power and influence to help you flee the country, and live peacefully on my estate beyond where an extradition treaty can reach you."

[vanilla1cream]

Yandere Dungeon Meshi

Summary: You were a mage traveling alone while looking for your best friend in dungeon when suddenly you were attacked by a wyvern. However a traveling group swooped and saved you from the monster and it seems that this group just does not want you to leave them…at all.

Warnings: Reader is 23, All characters are adults 20+, Death of monsters and a character, blood, violence, gore, non consensual touching, licking, hand holding, Scenting?

Kabru’s party various x reader

I began to travel deep into the dungeon at a steady pace. You’re an elf that has a very elegant looking staff along with a purple hoodie crop and a pink skirt and black leggings and boots. You are also quite short for an elf since your height is about 4”12 inches in height. I look around the place that I reached in the dungeon and it seems to be an undiscovered place. It was a lair of some sort and there were plants growing around the area and on the top of the ceiling there was a crack in it that illuminated moonlight.

The moonlight traveled to what appears to be a nest of some sort made of branches but also crystals? I walked over to the nest to get a closer look and I saw 3 iridescent purple eggs in it. I was perplexed I’ve never seen eggs like these ever, but it couldn’t be dragon eggs since they never shine like this.

My inspection was cut short when I heard a loud thud noise that caused me to fall to the ground. When I looked up I saw a large wyvern staring down at me. I gasp in fear and slowly back away “ I - I don’t mean you any harm!” The wyvern stares at me and roars in anger, it flapped towards me now I had no choice but to fight it. I began to cast an ice spell and that formed a sharp blade I then threw it at the wyvern that managed to cut a part of its throat. It shrieked in pain but then it advanced towards me and used its talons to attack me.

“Aghh!!” I felt an awful pain on the side of my stomach and fell to the ground. Tears streamed down my eyes. I couldn’t reach my staff and the wyvern was about to attack me again, I closed my eyes.

But then a lightning strike came out of nowhere and hurled the dragon to the ground. I looked up and saw a group of people advancing towards the wyvern, I could make out two dwarfs , a gnome, half-foot, kobold, a tall-man, and another tall-man that looks to be the leader of the group.

The leader charges towards the wyvern and starts slashing its sides while the other group members attack around it. Then the leader finishes with a final blow to the throat and wyvern falls to the ground.

My breathing starts to get weaker and weaker, the last thing I see is a pair of legs walking in front of me.

My eyes felt heavy as I began to wake up. As I woke up I noticed that I was on a soft sleeping mat with a pillow.

“ Oh she’s finally awake you guys!” The gnome beside me smiled at me.

When I looked at the side I saw the same group as before and thier leader was looking at me with a relieved smile “ Hey there, I’m so glad you’re finally awake. You took a hard blow from the wyvern but don’t you worry, cause holm here helped heal you back!” Thier leader smiled at me warmly and he also looked quite handsome.

The gnome named holm helped sit me upright “ Oh thank you all so much for saving me and healing me” I thanked the whole group and they all nodded and smiled. The kobold wagged his tail when he saw me.“So who are you and what where doing traveling alone?” I replied to the blue eyed leader “ My name is (y/n) and I’m traveling throughout the dungeon in search of my friend. He’s been missing for 2 weeks and he was last seen going into an unknown dungeon.”

I pulled out the missing poster in my travel bag and hand it to the leader, the black haired girl also takes a look out of curiosity. “ Hm he doesn’t seem familiar to me and we haven’t came across him” says the girl and he hands me back the poster “ Ah alright that’s fine.” The leader looks at me again “ Oh sorry I didn’t introduce myself, my name is kabru and this is my party, that’s rin, holm, kuro, daya, and mickbell.”

I turned to them all and smiled “ Well it’s nice to meet you all.” The tall-man named rin seemed to blush slightly when I smiled. “ How could I repay you all for saving me?”

Kabru looked confused “ Oh no, you don’t have to do anything (y/n)! Saving you was our top priority.”

“But I insist! I mean it’s the least I can do for y’all savin-“ then I heard a loud grumble noise. “ Aww man were so hungry!” The little one called mickbell whined on top of the kobold “ Agreed kuro is too hungry.”

Then I had an idea “ Okay! How about I make you all a decent dinner?” The group looked at me surprised " You know how to cook?" Rin looked at me and wonders. " Yes! I know how to prepare certain meals and since i've been to the dungeon numerous times I also learned how to gather up many ingredients and supplies for cooking. My magic can help with that too."

So after a few minutes I made everyone a hearty meal, ( I also snuck in some of those wyvern eggs in it too btw ;). " This is the best food i've ever had in my entire life!!" Both kuro and mickbell wolved down thier food as rin and daya shake thier heads at thier bad manners. " Now this is even better than the food we had at the surface" holm was happy to have a decent meal. Kabru finished his first serving quickly " Oh man! I need a second bowl of your amazing cuisine (y/n)!"

I chuckled at him " I'm super happy you all love the food so far! But you know this is just a simple meal after all." I give kabru his second helping and he excepts it happily " This is more than just a simple meal this is amazing!" Kabru complimented you and you couldn't help but blush at his words. He noticed this and smiled.

After an amazing meal, kabru and the group wanted me to join thier party. I was slightly hesitant but I decided to join them anyway and they were quite happy about it. I felt a little overwhelmed joining a large group since I never did before but I knew it was for a good cause since they agreed to help me find my missing friend.

Two weeks have passed and there's still no sign of him. I was starting to feel sad that I couldn't find my friend, although traveling with my new group has helped me cheer up from this. Mickbell and kuro are the more playful ones of the group, they would always tell me jokes and pull pranks on the other members that make me laugh. Kuro would also accompany me to pick some herbs and I would pet his head " Kuro loves helping you!" Holm would teach me some healing and elemental magic to add to my spell book, he was always gentle when teaching me and would hold my hand while doing it. Daya loved taking walks with me and we would talk about random things, she also held my hand at one point which caused me to blush. Rin taught me some of her spells and she also accompanied me when I needed some ingredients or herbs for spells. Unbeknownst to me when I was picking some flowers, rin was behind me and stared at my butt, she smiled and licked her lips. When we were having a small snack in a meadow she accidently touched my thigh while grabbing the water " Oh! don't worry, it's alright!" Rin continued to eat her snack and when I looked away she smirked to herself.

When I wanted to take a walk or just clear my head, kabru would always come with me since he didn't want me to walk alone and protect me. He would always listen to anything I needed to let out and give me reassurance " Don't worry (y/n) he'll show up soon". He also helped me prepare dinner for everyone and would gather and cut up some ingredients for me. I also made him a flower crown while out in the meadow and he really loved it. Sometimes while we're traveling he would hold my hand, this isnt the first time he did this but I knew if I resisted he would just hold my hand again. He also rubbed my ear one time a butterfly was on it I was speechless after that.

After a fight with another monster in the dungeon, me and kabru sat together staring at the lake. “ So (y/n), I was wondering. When we finally find your friend what are you going to do next?”

I turned to kabru and spoke “ Well.. I do hope to find him soon. But when we do I’ll we will probably have to part ways from there.” Kabru paused and stared at me shocked “ Y-your gonna leave?” I was a little confused at his reaction but I wanted to give him a straightforward answer “ Oh um well yes. After we find my friend I plan on returning to the surface with him and be finished with this place” kabru looked at me again with an expression of conflict and stared at he ground “ huh I see.”

“What?! She’ll leave after we find him?!” Rin was very angry at the news kabru told her, why would you want to leave them?

“Yeah” kabru looked down in frustration “ I tried to convince her to stay a little longer but she didn’t want to.” The whole group looked sad, none of them wanted you to leave at all. Mickbell loved it when you laughed at his antics and jokes, he also enjoyed when you made little gifts for him. Kuro grew an attachment to you and he loved it when you called him a good boy and petted him. Holm and daya enjoyed taking walks with you and teaching them some of thier skills. Rin absolutely loved gathering supplies with you since that’s when the both of you are alone together. She held the jewel necklace you made for her and caressed it.

But with kabru, he loved all the time you get to spend together. Whether it be helping you cook or small tasks like tying up your hair or gathering herbs , he relished all the moments he had with you.

Rin felt devastated by the news she wanted to try to convince you to stay but she didn’t know how. “ So what the hell do we do now then?” She looked at kabru for an answer “ Honestly I don’t even know. Bu-“ suddenly his mind trailed to something else, your friend. He’s the whole reason why you wanted to leave the dungeon. Kabru thought to himself and got slightly angry, it always falls back to your friend on the reasoning behind your departure. But he couldn’t let that happen, he won’t let that happen.

He then had an idea is his mind, it was good that it was night time and you were sleeping right now. Hopefully he can convince rin and holm to help him do this “ Hey I think I actually have an idea come with me.” The group followed kabru “ So? What are we doing?”

“ Oh I think you’re all going to enjoy this” kabru had a dark smirk on his face and led the group to someplace.

The next day I was traveling with the group and I noticed that everyone was quite happy today. Rin kept holding my hand the whole time even though I declined too. Holm and daya kept giving me smiles through thier glances. When we made a small stop kuro gave me a lick on the cheek “Gahh! Kuro you know I don’t like that!” This made kuro and mickbell chuckle.

I made some snack for everyone with my magic and we all ate together while talking about random things. Rin and kabru kept staring at me with a smile as I talked to holm and the others, they looked at one another and both nodded. Both of them had a silent conversation with thier eyes and smirked.

After a while, kabru led us to a staircase in the dungeon we were heading in and that’s when I spotted something familiar. I stopped in my tracks which made everyone pause “ Wait that looks like-“ I recognized the weapon on the ground is the sword that belonged to my friend. “What’s that (y/n)?” Mickbell looked at the item in curiosity.“ This is (f/n)’s sword, he should be down there guys cmon!” I picked his sword up and immediately went down the stairs.

Everyone else followed me, “ Take your time (y/n)! I don’t want you to trip on anything” kabru caught up to my speed “ I know that, but he could be here down there!” I moved past him, then him and rin went beside each other smirked again.

Then we finally made our way down the stairs and I saw a dimly lit room. “ He has to be in here” I advanced towards the room and everyone followed, I was unaware of the dark gazes they had behind me. “ (f/n)! Are you in here?” I looked around and don’t see him anywhere, I then realized how dimly lit the room was so I used some of my lighting magic to make the place brighter.

The room lit up and that’s when I froze. There was blood splattered everywhere and then I see pieces of flesh and body parts scattered around the place and then my eyes went to a severed human head laying in front of me….it was (f/n). I let out a loud guttural scream from my mouth. I fell to the floor and backed away from his head.

Tears started streaming down my eyes, “N-no! Why!? Why is this happening?! noooo!!” Kabru came beside me and held me gently " I- Im so sorry (y/n)." I cried harder into Kabru's chest and held me tighter, rin went beside me held my back " Im sorry angel, but were to late. It seems a monster must've killed him."

I looked at her with my tear stained face, " But what could've done this?" I see the rest of the group appear " Well, this must be the work of a griffin since they're the only monster that could do this amount of damage" holm explained solemnly and daya was by his side looking around the place. Kuro and mickbell went up to me " Please don't cry (y/n), it hurts our hearts when you do" mickbell and kuro hugged me.

After this horrifying discovery, I decided to gather up my friend's body parts and give him a proper burial. I felt crushed and devastated finding (f/n) like this. We were going to return to the surface together, but now it's not possible. Kabru and his group helped so much during this dreadful time, I'm so thankful to have met them. I couldn't just leave them like that it wouldn't feel right and these are the people that saved my life. So I decided to officially join their group and they couldn't have been more excited for it. I was playing around with kuro and mickbell while casting some fun spells along with them. Holm and daya was playfully chasing us around the place.

Between a few trees stood both kabru and rin looking upon the sight in amusement and tenderness. Rin chuckled " Look at her, so cute huh?"

" Heh, yeah I'm glad she's feeling so much better now" He replied while looking at me lovingly. Rin turned to him " And shes here to stay with us permanently " She states rather maliciously. Kabru nods and rin follows him deeper into the woods " I told you that she wouldn't suspect anything" rin grinned at him. " Well we can thank holm for that and your ability that helped us detect him." They both came to a stop " You did a huge number on him though. You went completely berserk on him like a real demon. But I'll admit that it was pretty satisfying" she smiled at the memory of (f/n)'s screams.

Kabru gave her a dark smile " Well seeing him made me feel nothing but rage but that doesn't mean I regret it" His mind went back to when he was covered in blood and smiled sadistically at your friends body. Kabru laughs and looks at rin

" After all shes ours now "

[rustylizard389]

Tears of the kingdom thoughts

Thinking about Totk again, man does it have some amazing moments

The opening cutscene with Link losing his arm

The climb up to the wind temple

The lightning temple is just an Indiana jones dungeon and I love it

The little reporter side quest thing you can do and you can see all the good Zelda has done for Hyrule

Getting to see the way Hyrule is healing with things like lookout landing and the school

The moment of discovering the depths for the first time

Getting a robot fight! (When it happened I literally couldn’t stop smiling)

The whole final fight with Ganondorf is just so good

Fighting his army, the sages all coming together, his health bar extending, THE DRAGON FIGHT!

Zelda’s sacrifice of turning to the light dragon was one of the most heartbreaking scenes I’ve seen

The way everyone just seems to have a universal experience of, at least once, sitting on the light dragon and just mourning

There was one time I’ll never forget, I took a picture of it and everything. I went to the lovers pond and looked up and saw the light dragon and my heart just shattered to pieces

Totk story isn’t perfect, but it does have perfect moments

[just-aake]

Boundless Devotion - Part XIII

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Warnings: angst, violence, blood, hurt/comfort, abuse, panic attack

Words: 7627

The clash of swords echoes in the corridor of the dungeons, accompanied by occasional grunts and thuds of fallen combatants.

After several minutes of seemingly never-ending waves of assailants, Natasha is growing more and more frustrated.

Her current attacker lunges at her with a swing, but she smoothly parries the weapon out of their hand, countering with a swift and hard kick to their midsection, causing them to crumble to the ground.

After defeating some already, Natasha quickly recognized who they were. 

Dreykov’s soldiers 

The person she just defeated was the same one who had refused her access to see you earlier at the gates of your manor. 

At the thought of you, her eyes glance over worriedly to the wall where you had disappeared behind. 

When she recovered from being knocked back and realized that the man had you in his grip, she rushed to you, but the trap door closed before she could reach you, slamming shut in her face. 

Before she could even attempt to find the switch, the sound of the door breaking from above, followed by several rushing footsteps, propelled her into this current fight.

“Natasha!”

Clint’s warning abruptly pulls her from the memory just in time to dodge a swing from another attacker. 

They suddenly cry out in pain when an arrow pierces their shoulder from behind, and with a quick sweep from Natasha, they fall to the ground.

Another person falls unconscious nearby, and Natasha directs her attention to the other person helping in the fight.

The old Stark captain now stands free from his restraints after insisting to her that he could help.

Bucky notices her glare and then glances towards where you were taken before returning his attention to her.

“I’m sure she’s okay,” he tries to reassure her.

But his comment just makes her clench her teeth in anger, seeing how he’s part of the reason you decided to come here in the first place.

Now she’s separated from you and uncertain of your current condition. 

Natasha turns away from him, directing her anger to the rest of the attackers in the room instead. 

“This is going on for too long,” she determines, her hand tightening around the hilt of her sword.

In the next moment, the corridor echoes with the impact of bodies hitting the ground one after the other. A web of lightning-fast strikes incapacitates the remaining members of the ambush, leaving them sprawled across the floor, defeated, until only one remains. 

With the final assailant rushing at her, Natasha swiftly evades his attack, grabbing his arm and expertly flipping him over her shoulder before slamming him to the ground with a resounding thud. 

As the dust settles, Natasha stands and sheathes her sword before swiftly moving back over to the wall to search for the trap door switch.

Clint makes a sound of amazement behind her as he steps around all of the unconscious bodies to reach her.

“Glad to see your skills are still as impressive as ever, Your Highness,” Clint compliments as he approaches her.

Natasha doesn’t respond. Instead, she focuses intently on searching the wall, her hand running quickly along the grooves of the cold stones. 

After finally finding a small loose stone, she presses it in, but nothing happens. 

Frowning, Natasha tries again, harder this time. 

Still, nothing moves. 

Frustration rises in her, and she slams her hands against the wall in anger. The sting of pain on her palms does nothing to distract her from her racing thoughts of concern for you.

She needs to figure out how to open this stupid door quickly before anything bad happens to you.

“There should be another switch on the ground that needs to be pressed at the same time,” Bucky’s voice calls from behind.

Natasha turns her head slightly to him before quickly refocusing her attention on the stone floor. Her foot sweeps along the surface until a loose stone caves slightly under her pressure.

Looking up, Natasha narrows her eyes at Bucky in suspicion. 

“How did you know?”

Next to her, Clint raises his bow, pointing an arrow at the old captain, waiting for his response.

Bucky raises his hand in innocence before shaking his head lightly in confusion, appearing slightly unsure himself. 

"I don't know. It’s…just that I’ve seen this before, I think," he replies, grimacing before giving her a genuine look. “I swear I’m not trying to trick you.”

Natasha shoots him one last suspicious look before gesturing to Clint to stand down. She then returns her focus to the trap door — getting you back safely is her priority before worrying about anything else.

With one foot on the stone on the floor and a hand on the one on the wall, Natasha presses both of the switches simultaneously.

A distinct clicking sound echoes as the wall begins to turn.

Rushing through the opening, Natasha enters the dimly lit space, calling your name.

“Y/n?!”

Immediately, Natasha notices the subtle change in the room's pressure when she takes a breath. Something in the air feels heavy, and a light wave of dizziness seems to cloud her thoughts for a brief moment. 

Shaking off the feeling, Natasha concentrates on searching her surroundings and finally spots you standing at the far wall.

She immediately moves to run towards you.

“Stay away from me!”

At your shout, Natasha slides to a sudden stop, hearing the fear in your voice.

As she processes your words and realizes that it was indeed directed toward her, she feels her heart tighten painfully in her chest. 

Then she watches as you step back and press yourself further against the wall behind you as if you’re trying to be as far from her as possible, and her heart breaks even more.

“Just…stay away…,” you plead, your voice comes out in a shaky whisper.

Recognizing your panicked expression—the same one as your panic attack at the cemetery— Natasha quickly brushes off her feelings of hurt and composes herself so that she can concentrate on helping you.

She takes a moment to examine you for any injuries before her eyes drift down to the ground where two bodies lay nearby. 

Seeing their identities and conditions, understanding fills her mind as she returns her attention to you, meeting your eyes with a gentle reassuring look.

But you immediately break from her gaze, looking down at your bloodied hands, trembling.

“I-I didn’t…” you say unsurely, your breathing increasing rapidly.

“Y/n, look at me.”

Her words don't seem to reach you since you don’t make any movement, your gaze fixated on your hands as you continue to mumble under your breath.

Natasha’s brow pinch in concern and she tries again, louder this time.

“Y/n!”

Your head snaps up and meet her eyes in shock as if remembering her presence.

“Just…focus on me,” Natasha says gently, making a show of taking a few slow deep breaths.

After a hesitant moment, you begin to copy her, inhaling and exhaling shakily.

Nodding in encouragement, Natasha takes a tiny step towards you. 

Your eyes watch her cautiously, but you don’t tell her to stop this time. 

She takes another step.

Then another.

Again and again.

Until she stands just an arm’s length away from you.

Seeing your fearful expression, Natasha wants nothing more than to wrap you in her arms and comfort you, but she understands that’s not what you need right now. 

Instead, she extends her hand out towards you in invitation. 

You glance at her outstretched hand, patiently hovering between the two of you, and then at your own, trembling at your side.

The sight of the dark red remaining on your palm causes you to instinctively clench your hand in an attempt to hide them. 

Returning your gaze hesitantly to Natasha, you check to see if she has noticed them too, but her expression shows no change from before.

There’s just warmth and trust in her eyes. 

Warmth and trust.

And something more.

You finally recognize that unspoken emotion that fills her gaze now and all the times before – an overwhelming and unwavering boundless devotion towards you.

With that realization, you bring your hand slowly to hover above hers, and with one last glance at her for assurance, you close your eyes and let it fall.

Natasha’s hand closes around yours without hesitation, wrapping it in her warmth.

A moment passes with no movement or sound, even the whisperings of Madam B’s voice seem to disappear from your mind. 

Your eyes snap open when you realize that nothing else happens, and immediately, you rush into her arms.

Natasha wraps her arms around you, enveloping you in her embrace. 

With your head tucked into the crook of her neck, you begin to explain frantically against her skin.

“S-She said she was going to make me do it again. To kill you.”

But your words don't scare her away. 

Her concern is only on one thing at the moment. 

Natasha’s hand moves up to hold your head tightly against her as she releases a breath of relief. 

“You’re okay…thank god, you’re okay,” her lips whisper against your head. 

Natasha feels you still trembling slightly in her arms as you murmur something repeatedly against her skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you…I don’t…”

Hearing this, Natasha tightens her arms around you in response and tilts her head down next to your ear, whispering reassuringly, “I know.” 

She continues confidently, “I told you, Y/n. I know you would never hurt me.”

You shake your head slightly against her, still unsure, but you don’t say anymore, choosing to focus on the comfort of her warmth instead.

After a few minutes of silence, Natasha presses a light kiss on your head to get your attention before telling you gently.

“We need to get out of here. There’s something in the air.”

Raising your head from her in confusion, you concentrate on the atmosphere in the room. 

Only then did you notice the subtle shift in the air, like something pressing down in your mind. You’re sure you didn’t realize this at first due to the shock of Madam B’s unexpected presence. 

At the reminder of the woman, your gaze shifts to the bodies on the ground, lingering on the one whose actions hurt you the most. 

You never had the chance to confront her for betraying you last year. She was already exiled by the time you recovered. 

Looking at her lifeless eyes, you can’t help but feel a pang of sadness even though you know she was only using you.

Madam B. had been a constant presence in your life since you were young, strict and harsh at times, but still, at least she was there, always by your side.

Now she’s gone.

You want to look away from the person she has revealed herself to be and leave with the few good memories of her that you have left, but you find that you can’t bring yourself to move.

Thankfully, you don’t have to. 

With her arms still around you, Natasha maneuvers her position, shielding you from the grim scene, and her concerned gaze silently asks if you are okay.

The sight of her reminds you of what it truly means to be by someone’s side. 

To actually care for someone.

And the bitter truth is Madam B is not one of those kinds of people in your life.

Maybe she never was.

With a small, sad smile, you give Natasha a reassuring nod, allowing her to guide you towards the opening of the trapped door. 

As you move with her, something catches the corner of your eye – a drip from one of the torches on the walls.

Curious, you pull away from Natasha to investigate, her footsteps following close behind.

“Y/n?”

Another drip falls slowly, creating a small puddle on the ground. 

It's unusual; torches typically burn the oil that coats its end. They shouldn't drip like this. 

Taking a breath, you realize that the air around the torch feels significantly heavier too.

Intrigued, you catch the next drop on your hand, examining it carefully – you know you’ve seen this before. 

“Come on, Y/n. Let’s get out of here.” 

Natasha takes your other hand and guides you the remaining distance out of the Red Room as your mind races with realization.

Once in the dungeon corridor, you show Natasha the substance.

“This is your mom’s serum,” you exclaim in disbelief at the existence of the supposedly banned substance.

“What?” Natasha asks in confusion. “How did she get it?”

The memory of Madam B's words emerges in your mind of how you were molded to be her spy, and a sense of shame forms in you.

“It was me,” you reveal sadly, looking down in regret. “Your mom showed me the formula once. Madam B. must have gotten it from me.”

Before you can fall into your feelings of self-blaming guilt, Natasha tilts your chin up to meet her eyes, offering a reassuring grin. 

"All I hear is that my mom showed you the formula before even me," she teases lightly, trying to lighten the mood. She lets out a tiny amused chuckle, “I told you that you’re her favorite.”

You give her an exasperated look and shove her lightly for her teasing during this dire situation.

She catches your hand, keeping you close, her expression turning serious.

“You’re not at fault for any of this,” Natasha states firmly. “Madam B. is the one who used the serum, not you.”

Glancing back to the Red Room, you begin to piece together what Madam B. meant by her new quick method of control.

“If she was dispersing the serum into the air, then breathing this in would bring it directly into a person’s system, making them susceptible effectively in a short amount of time,” you explain to Natasha before your eyes widen in realization. “That’s how she could implement control on many people so quickly.”

Alarm and question fill Natasha’s expression at your words. 

“Which people?”

“Like Oksana,” you explain, recalling another piece of information she mentioned before urgently continuing. 

“Natasha, there are more like her. Madam B. said that some lord came here earlier and took everyone.”

"I know who," Clint interrupts, emerging from the Red Room with documents in hand. 

He hands them to Natasha with a serious look.

"The idiot signed his name and everything."

Natasha skims the contents of the note on the top.

Prepare the rest of the subjects. I’ll use them to take care of the princesses outside. Everybody else is in position at the castle. 

~Lord Rumlow

“Well, it doesn’t get more incriminating than that,” Natasha comments with a roll of her eyes, passing the paper for you to see. 

"That traitorous little…he’s trying to go after you," you exclaim in outrage.

Natasha nods in acknowledgment, connecting together all the new information.

“So, some of the kingdom’s guards are being controlled. And with the security meeting happening soon, they’re now inside the castle, unknowingly waiting to be a part of an ambush on my family.”

You give the note back to Natasha, continuing her train of thought. 

"Except Rumlow must have found out that you snuck out, so he came here to pick up more people to go after you."

“And Yelena,” Natasha adds, frowning slightly.

Clint waves his hands in disbelief. 

"Wait, Yelena’s outside the castle too? Where is she now?"

You give Natasha a knowing look, already guessing the answer without her help.

“Kate’s manor,” you respond. “That’s not going to be hard for anyone to figure out soon.”

Natasha sighs in agreement before straightening confidently, her demeanor shifting to one of determined resolve.

"Okay, then. Clint, you head to the castle to warn Steve and my parents. Also, see if you can find Fanny to help identify the controlled soldiers among our own," Natasha commands.

“Yelena’s dog?” Clint asks incredulously.

Natasha nods. 

“She was able to sense people being controlled before. There was the time with the man in town and then again with Oksana at the festival.”

“And with me,” you add in realization, giving Natasha a confirming glance, amazed at her deduction.

“If you say so,” Clint says, shrugging before nodding at Natasha.

“What about you two?”

“We’ll go get Yelena and regroup with you back at the castle afterward to help.”

Clint grimaces at Natasha’s response. 

“I’d rather you find someplace to hide until this is over, but I know you won’t.”

Natasha smirks, about to respond, when you touch her arm to get her attention. 

From the regretful and determined look on your face, she already knows she won’t like what you’re about to say.

“Natasha, I have to go back for the twins.”

“You can’t,” she denies, her head already shaking vehemently in refusal during the middle of your sentence. 

She gestures to the unconscious people on the ground around her. 

“His guards weren't even afraid to attack me. Who knows what he’ll do to you if you go back.”

“She’s right. Dreykov is most likely a part of this or at least knows about the plans. Going back to your manor now is dangerous,” Clint warns.

“Which is why I can’t just leave them there,” you argue. 

“Then I’ll come with you,” Natasha insists.

You shake your head firmly. 

“There’s not enough time. You need to get to Yelena first.”

Natasha’s expression twists in conflict as she tries to come up with a solution to ensure the safety of everyone she cares for. 

You watch as her brows pinch further in turmoil, and you know that the both of you know the inevitable truth – there's no other option. 

Gently cradling her face in your hand, you lock eyes with her, silently urging her to listen to your next words carefully.

“This is what I was telling you before, Natasha. You can’t choose me this time,” you remind her softly, each syllable heavy with the weight of the decision.

Her features contort with a blend of anguish and realization as the harsh reality sinks in that she can’t always protect you.

“I’ll go with her,” Bucky's voice breaks the tense silence as he steps forward from the entrance of the Red Room.

Natasha whirls around to face him, suspicion evident in her gaze as she responds firmly.

“Absolutely not, you’re not getting anywhere near her.”

Bucky's lips quirk into a wry smile. 

“No offense, Your Highness, but I am not exactly under your command.”

“We could just lock you up again,” Clint interjects. 

Undeterred by the threat, Bucky's gaze remains on her, unwavering as he counters, “Do you really want her to return to him without any backup?” 

Natasha's fists clench in frustration, but you intercede, taking her hand in yours to soothe her rising anger and return her attention to you.

“It’s fine, Natasha. Let him help,” you reassure her, your tone calm yet insistent.

“I don’t trust him,” Natasha says, her voice tinged with apprehension as she leans closer to whisper to you. “He was acting strange earlier.”

You steal a glance at Bucky, recalling Madam B’s cryptic words about how she had dealt with him earlier. With that information, you understand and also share Natasha’s reservations about his current state of mind.

However, these guards must have been sent here for him which suggests that Bucky may be expected back at your manor eventually. At least by keeping him close, you can monitor his actions and be prepared in case anything does happen.

Besides, Madam B. did teach you one final important piece of information before she passed that may be able to help you.

With this confidence, you offer Natasha a reassuring smile.

“I have an idea if something happens,” you assure her. 

Natasha's expression remains hesitant and apprehensive, prompting you to gently clasp her hands together in yours.

Bringing them up, you place a delicate kiss on her fingers before meeting her gaze with pleading eyes.  

“Trust me,” you implore softly.

A flicker of worry crosses Natasha’s face as she looks at your serious expression before she slumps with a resigned, heavy sigh.  

“Okay, okay,” Natasha relents reluctantly. “I trust you.”

Resting her forehead against yours, she gives you a determined look.

“But after I get Yelena, I’m coming for you right after,” she declares firmly. 

Brushing her nose gently against yours, she whispers the next words against your lips in a promise, “And afterward, we’re finishing that conversation between us, without any more interruptions.”

A small smile forms on your face as you gaze into her eyes and see the unwavering certainty of her words.

“Okay,” you breathe out. “It’s a promise.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The hurried ride back to your manor was spent in relative silence with only the patter of rain and the rhythmic beat of hooves to accompany your journey.

It is only when the two of you arrive at the gates of your manor does Bucky speak.

“How are you holding up?” he asks as the two of you dismount your horses.

You give him a questioning look, prompting him to clarify.

“It’s not every day one finds out that she is a missing royal.”

Irritation rises in you when you realize he was bringing up the topic that you wanted to ignore.

Dealing with being kidnapped as a baby and a lying, false father aside, you honestly have no desire to involve yourself with any of the specifics of your real identity.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” you state plainly in an attempt to end this topic quickly. “Dreykov will get what he deserves for what he did but after that, I have no desire to reclaim any title.”

Bucky regards you with an unreadable expression before remarking calmly, “Nonetheless, it’s still a part of your birthright that he took you from. Whether you like it or not, you are a Stark royal by blood.” 

He pauses and then adds with a grim look, “You don’t belong here.”

His last words make your hands clench into fists as you grasp the implications.

However, accepting the reality of being a Stark, being the rival of the Romanov kingdom and the past enemy of Natasha’s family – that is not a role that you want.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you declare resolutely.

There’s a beat of silence before Bucky responds.

“As you wish.”

His formal response makes you frown in annoyance, and you turn to him with your arms crossed.

“Are you just saying that because of who I am or because you want to?” you ask accusingly.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about the subject anymore,” Bucky says, giving you a pointed look.

You let out a small frustrated sound at his deflection by throwing your words back to you.

“Listen, I know you’ve served the Starks all your life, but like I said, I am not your princess that you need to obey,” you assert firmly. 

He observes your serious expression for a moment, as if in thought, before giving you an acknowledging nod.

Seeing that you won’t get another response, you refocus your attention on your manor. 

It looks different than ever before, devoid of staff and now most of the guards. The once homey space appears haunted as the two of you enter through the gates.

Bucky walks ahead of you, searching the area for any potential threats. 

“We’re looking for that boy from before, right? The one that defended you,” he asks over his shoulder.

You hum in acknowledgment, adding, “And his sister.”

After checking that the entrance is clear, Bucky moves to open the door.

“Wait just a moment,” you stop him, getting his attention as he turns to look at you in question.

“Before we go in, there is one thing I need to ask of you.”

He stares at you intently in silence, waiting for you to continue. 

You don’t know what lies beyond this door, but one thing is for certain. 

“If it ever comes down to a choice between me or either of them, I need you to help them first,” you tell him, your tone serious.

His eyes scrutinize you, contemplating his response before asking plainly.

“Is this an order?”

“A request,” you state firmly, giving him a slight glare. “Those two are innocent, just caught up in the middle of my problems. That’s why, no matter what happens to me, they come first.”

You wait as Bucky stares at you in silence, his expression unreadable. Eventually, he gives you a nod as if coming to a conclusion.

“Understood. Then you have my word.”

His formality causes you to grimace in displeasure.

“Your word as the previous captain of Starks?” you ask bitterly.

“As a friend, Lady Y/n,” he corrects gently, his tone a touch warmer and more genuine than before.

You blink in surprise before giving him a slight nod.

“Thank you…Bucky.”

As you two step into the manor, an eerie and unnerving silence greets you. 

Undeterred by the ominous atmosphere, you take the lead, swiftly moving through the halls towards your room.

You hope that Pietro and Wanda are safe and waiting for you there, and perhaps, Wanda has regained enough strength by now to move. 

Peeking around one corner, you feel a wave of relief when you spot the familiar shade of dark brown hair. 

Wanda tiptoes down the hallway, with her back to you, her movements purposeful and stealthy. She checks each room of the manor with care, gently opening doors and peeking inside before continuing on her search.

Emerging from the corner, you begin to approach her.

However, at the sound of your footsteps, Wanda whirls around in alertness. 

For a moment, you catch a flash of red in her eyes before they quickly return to their normal color once she realizes it is you.

“You’re back!” Wanda exclaims in a hushed tone, her posture relaxing as she closes the distance between you.

Fussing over her, you gently hold her face in your hands as you examine her.

“Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she responds honestly, gently stopping your fussing by holding onto your wrists.

You nod and release her face, instead grasping her hands for assurance of her safe condition.

“That’s good. Because we need to leave soon. Where’s Pietro?” you ask, searching the area for any signs of the other twin.

Wanda shakes her head, giving you a worried look.

“I don’t know. He never came back. I was just looking for him.”

You frown at her words, about to question her further when her eyes shift warily to some movement behind you.

"Who's he?" she asks cautiously.

Turning, you see Bucky standing there, patiently waiting. 

Recalling the idea that you formed from Madam B’s information, you call out to him.

"Bucky, can you go and search ahead?"

He nods in acknowledgment and quickly leaves to scout the halls, disappearing around the corner.

“The criminal, I presume,” Wanda states with a small frown.

She didn't agree with your initial decision to meet with Bucky, and seeing him free beside you now only adds to her disapproval.

Unfortunately, you don’t have time to change her distrust at this time, so you nod in confirmation before changing the subject.

“Do you remember all the research I’ve been doing this past year?” you say urgently. 

Wanda nods. "Yes, for a cure to prevent you from being controlled."

"I have an idea, but I need your help," you say, raising her hands in yours before continuing, “I need you to use your powers on my mind.”

"What? No!" Wanda pulls her hands away, hiding them behind her back.

"Wanda, please.”

She shakes her head. 

"I don’t have much practice using my powers like that," she insists, her voice filled with uncertainty.

"Then this is a good opportunity for you to try," you urge.

"Y/n, be serious,” she chastises, fidgeting with her hands nervously, “It could be dangerous. I don't know if I can control it."

You reach out to grasp her hands firmly, reassuring her, "You can do this, Wanda. You are a lot stronger than you think.”

Wanda gives you a disbelieving look, but you return her gaze with one of confidence and trust. 

"I believe in you," you say honestly.

After a hesitant moment of contemplation, Wanda eventually slumps in resignation. 

“What am I supposed to do?” she asks.

“Search my subconscious. See if you can find something that feels out of place – invasive. Then try to form a barrier around it,” you explain your idea.

“Like blocking it from being active?” Wanda questions.

“Or stop it completely,” you say hopefully.

Wanda nods in understanding. She then takes a deep breath, closing her eyes.

When she opens them again, they glow red, mirroring the light mist that forms around her hands.

The mist drifts slowly towards your head, before stopping suddenly a small distance away. Wanda's expression shows a mix of concentration and concern as she stares at you.

“You’ll tell me if I’m hurting you?” she asks cautiously.

“I promise,” you reassure her.

She swallows nervously, relenting with a soft, "Okay.”

Her power continues on its path, finally touching your head, and a warm and gentle pressure enters your mind as Wanda's essence envelopes you completely.

There's no resistance from you as she searches your subconscious.

After a moment, she finally speaks again, her face pinched in concentration.

“I think I almost have–”

A sudden shout of pain reverberates through the halls, causing your eyes to snap open in panic, the connection between you and Wanda interrupted, fading until it disappears completely.

Your heart races as you recognize the source of the sound: Pietro.

Without hesitation, you dash towards the sound with Wanda following close behind.

Arriving at the staircase leading to your floor, you are frozen in shock at the sight before you. 

There, lying at the base of the stairs is Pietro's familiar form, his silver hair now streaked with specks of dark red.

“Pietro!” Wanda's panicked cry breaks the silence, propelling her past you towards her brother.

Her call snaps you out of your daze, and you rush to Pietro's side, kneeling beside Wanda as she cradles his head in her lap.

A groan escapes Pietro at the movement, a sign of consciousness, but the sight of his battered face and body extinguishes any relief you might have felt. Bruises, already darkening, cover his features, and dried blood coats his skin.

You reach out to touch his face gingerly to examine his wounds, but he winces away in pain. One of his eyes is swollen shut, while the other struggles to open, half-lidded as he gazes at you. 

Despite his injuries, he manages to muster a weak attempt at his usual playful smile when he sees your pained expression.

“I’m…fine,” he coughs out, his breath shallow.

“Pietro, you can barely open your eyes,” you whisper in horror.

“Ha…am I still good-looking?” he teases, though his voice comes out more strained than playful.

Wanda lets out a disbelieving huff, tears glistening in her eyes. 

“You look terrible.”

A pained smile flits across his face as he closes his eyes to take in a shaky breath. 

“Careful, Wanda, your face is the same as mine.”

“Pietro, what happened?” you ask, needing an explanation.

“Dreykov’s men caught me…they tried to get me to tell them where you had gone,” he says with a wry chuckle. “Guess they didn’t like my sarcastic answers as much as you do.”

You hold back a wave of emotion and guilt as you gently brush his hair back from his face.

“You should have just told them what they wanted to know,” you chastise, “Then maybe Dreykov wouldn’t have hurt you this badly.”

Pietro lets out a tiny scoff, shaking his head slightly.

“As if. The bastard didn’t even have the guts to hit me himself,” he reveals before succumbing to fits of painful coughs, blood trickling from his mouth.

Panicked, you look to Wanda, telling her urgently.

“Wanda, he needs help!”

She shakes her head helplessly as she examines his condition, her hands clenching and unclenching with uncertainty.

“There is no one else here. The closest person to a healer is at Lady Kate’s.”

You glance back down at Pietro, his breathing shallow and labored and his eyes closed. He's in no condition to move, and without medical help soon, you don’t know how much longer he can survive.

Running through the options in your mind, you realize there is one way you can give both of them a chance to be safe.

“You need to go, Wanda,” you decide firmly.

Wide-eyed, Wanda stares at you, bewildered. 

“What?”

“You need to go, now,” you repeat urgently, gently taking his head from her lap to cradle in yours. “Get to safety and send help back for Pietro.”

Wanda rises slowly at your command, but she doesn’t leave, torn by indecision as she gazes at the two of you, unwilling to abandon you.

As you’re about to desperately plead with her to leave quickly, a reprimanding voice booms from above, sending a shiver of fear running through you.

“This wouldn’t have happened if only you had just listened to me.” 

You turn and lift your gaze to find Dreykov standing at the top of the staircase, his eyes filled with disdain as he stares down at the three of you.

Gesturing to the guards beside him, he adds, “I thought I told you to finish off the boy.”

At his words, the two guards start to descend towards you, and you instinctively tighten your hold on Pietro’s body.

Rage boils within you as you glare at the approaching figures, likely the culprits behind Pietro’s condition.

“Don’t you dare!” you threaten, your voice laced with an angry intensity that startles even the guards, who hesitate and look to Dreykov for further guidance.

Using the momentary distraction, you turn to the frozen twin behind you.

“Wanda, go!” you exclaim urgently.

Your command snaps her out of her daze, and she begins to back away.

“Grab the girl,” Dreykov orders with a bored wave of his hand.

As his guards continue their descent, you brace yourself to intervene, but suddenly, a cry pierces the air from behind.

“Let me go!”

Whirling around in surprise, you see Wanda trapped in a chokehold, not by one of Dreykov’s guards, but by Bucky.

His eyes now stare blankly ahead, devoid of emotion, as he maintains a tight grip on Wanda. It’s clear that the person in front of you is no longer in control.

“Finally, someone who listens to my commands. I should’ve just done the same thing to you imbeciles,” Dreykov comments, his footsteps echoing down the steps, followed by the sound of consecutive slaps, likely aimed at their heads.

Wanda continues to struggle against Bucky’s hold, but his larger form keeps her in place, squeezing the breath from her throat.

“Wanda!” you call out urgently, catching her attention. With a meaningful look, you mouth to her, “He’s like me,” hoping she grasps your implication.

Understanding dawns on Wanda’s face as she turns her head as much as possible to study Bucky, her own eyes beginning to glow red. 

A rough hand suddenly seizes your hair, yanking you upright and forcing you to face Dreykov as Pietro rolls from your lap with a small groan. 

His guards flank you on both sides, holding you in place. 

Meeting his gaze with a harsh glare, you notice a flicker of surprise in his expression.

“Now when did you develop the courage to have such a fierce and hateful look in your eyes?” Dreykov asks curiously. 

His gaze shifts down to Pietro on the ground, and a satisfied smirk creeps across his face. 

“You really should’ve taught your pathetic servants to follow orders better. I never understood why Madam B. let you keep two of them.”

He nonchalantly extends his foot to move Pietro’s face in examination. The disrespectful action further increases your anger as you struggle against the guards' grips. 

Pietro grimaces in pain, prompting Dreykov to shrug indifferently before refocusing on you.

“Well, I guess you’ll only have one soon enough.”

Suddenly, a groan of pain erupts behind you, and you turn your head to see Bucky doubled over, clutching his head, while Wanda staggers on her feet, free from his grip and staring at her hands in shock.

You lock eyes with her, giving her a proud expression and an urgent nod to go.

With one last worried glance at Pietro, Wanda gives you a reassuring nod and quickly disappears into the halls.

One guard releases you to chase after her, but you swiftly trip him with a well-placed foot. The other guard, caught off guard by your sudden movement, loses balance, allowing you to push him away while also grabbing his dagger at his side. You rush to Dreykov, bringing it to his neck.

As you hear the guards behind you begin to recover, you demand angrily, “Tell them to let her go.”

Dreykov meets your gaze with an unbothered expression, his demeanor unaffected by the threat against his neck. 

After a pause, he rolls his eyes and issues a command to his guards.

“Leave her. She can’t do anything. Just another orphan to add to the streets that will die sooner or later,” he dismisses callously.

He then looks down at the dagger in your hand and raises his brow to you.

“Now, is this any way to treat your father?” Dreykov reprimands.

“You don’t get to call yourself my father!” you exclaim vehemently, your voice filled with contempt.

There’s a tense pause as his eyes narrow at your words before his expression relaxes into a smirk.

“So, you finally found out the truth,” he remarks, raising a finger at you.

“You know, there were moments I doubted whether you really were their child. I thought the Starks would have had a more intelligent offspring, something similar to that first prodigal child of theirs.”

His words sting as usual but not as much now that you know how truly evil the man before you can be. 

“You’re despicable,” you seethe with disgust. “What kind of person kidnaps a baby from their parents?” 

Dreykov's smirk widens, reveling in your anger.

“Consider it a consolation to me for their part in choosing peace and ending the war. They got what they deserved,” he says without any remorse.

You tighten your grip on the dagger in anger at how he callously dismisses the deaths he caused. But then you realize, that no matter how hard you try to push, the blade doesn’t move any closer to him, as if an invisible barrier is keeping you away.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Dreykov taunts knowingly. “I’m sure you’re clever enough to guess by now that Madam B isn’t the only one who can control you. After all, the Widow operations are my creation. Why would I ever allow anyone under my control to be able to hurt me?”

His words hit you like a blow, confirming your worst suspicions, but you refuse to show fear and weakness to him, not anymore.

“You’re a coward,” you spit out, glaring at him. “The only thing you know how to do is manipulate others. That’s why you lost the war.”

Dreykov's smirk falters, replaced by a flash of displeasure, and his demeanor shifts, darkening with a hidden temper before he regains his composure. 

With calculated calmness, he takes the dagger from your hand, your fingers releasing the weapon to him involuntarily.

He inspects it thoughtfully for a moment before swiftly backhanding you across the face with the hilt, the vicious blow knocking you to the ground.

“I haven’t lost anything,” he sneers at you angrily.

Pain radiates through your cheek as blood trickles from your split lips, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing your pain. 

You wipe the blood from your lips and stare back defiantly at him, causing him to regard you with a mocking pity.

“Oh, don’t pretend to be brave now. You’re nothing more than a tool in my revenge against the Romanovs and Starks,” he spits out in disdain. “I have no obligation to treat you any better than the dirt beneath my feet.”

As Dreykov moves to strike you again, a feeble hand grabs his foot, stopping him. 

Glancing down, you see Pietro’s face contorted with fury as he desperately clings to Dreykov, attempting to protect you.

Dreykov, now visibly irritated, rolls his eyes and with a disgusted expression, easily breaks free from Pietro’s grasp. He then delivers a harsh kick to his abdomen, causing Pietro to gasp and groan in pain.

“Annoying brat,” Dreykov sneers before pointing at his guards. “Remove this pest from my sight and dispose of him already,” he commands coldly before muttering with disdain, “I’ve always hated that one more than the other.”

In a panic, you seek out Bucky and are relieved to find his gaze full of life and awareness as he assesses the situation.

He meets your eyes, and you hope he understands the silent plea in your gaze, asking him to remember his promise to you.

With a slight grimace in understanding, Bucky steps forward, blocking the guard's advance toward Pietro.

He then moves to support Pietro, draping his arm over his shoulders, and shoots you a reassuring glance before dragging him away, seemingly complying with Dreykov's orders.

As they disappear from view, you release a breath of relief before quickly refocusing on Dreykov, who didn’t seem to pay much attention to Bucky's intervention, too preoccupied with brushing off the spot where Pietro had touched him with evident irritation on his face.

Your glare doesn't escape Dreykov's notice though, prompting him to return his attention to you with an indifferent shrug.

“Everything comes to an end sooner or later, especially the things we love," he remarks casually.

At the mention of everything you love, you think of Natasha and what she’s facing right now, the thought of her giving you strength to press further for answers.

“Then the ambush to kill the Romanovs today. Is that your plan for revenge?” you question, your tone accusing.

Dreykov raises a brow in slight surprise at your knowledge but then waves his hand dismissively.

“Your vision is as small and insignificant as ever,” he insults before continuing. “Killing the Romanovs only solves half of my grievances. There’s still another Stark breathing, after all. And what I need to take him down is the very thing that was taken from me in the first place: my victory in war,” he states with chilling conviction.

You can’t help but scoff internally at his ego-driven goal, but you stay quiet, allowing him to continue with his monologuing.

Dreykov’s voice drips with disdain at his next words.

“My initial plan was to use you to convince that foolish princess of yours to eventually start a war with the Starks. But it became apparent that when she takes the throne, she would never consider that option, no matter how many loving glances you throw her way.”

With a mocking gesture, he reaches out to pat your face before continuing with a smirk.

“Luckily, she’s not the only one infatuated with you.”

You furrow your brows, already knowing who he’s referring to.

“Rumlow,” you answer, piecing together the information. 

“He came to you for help to take the throne. And you agreed,” you assert, recalling the time Rumlow had mentioned meeting with Dreykov, which had led to him boasting about a possible union between you and him.

You give Dreykov a look of disbelief, continuing,  “You revealed information about the Widow operations to him so that he can gather soldiers to control and kill the Romanovs for you while pursuing the throne.”

Dreykov chuckles darkly in amusement.

“And once he becomes the new ruler, I’m sure it would take less than a day to convince him to declare war on the Stark kingdom. Especially, if I give him you as his reward for succeeding,” Dreykov admits, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"I would never agree to that," you declare firmly.

But Dreykov remains unfazed, his gaze cold and calculating.

“You will do whatever I tell you to do: seduce him, marry him, or even just be his plaything,” he threatens.

You let out a disbelieving scoff, shaking your head.

“Natasha won’t lose to someone like him. She’ll stop the ambush and everyone involved,” you declare confidently.

“And then she’ll come for you…is that correct?” Dreykov asks, a sinister smirk playing on his lips.

Your resolve wavers for a moment, the weight of his words and their implication hangs heavy in the air, but you try to push back your nerves, pressing your mouth shut.

“Don’t forget,” Dreykov continues, his tone dripping with arrogance, “I was the kingdom’s greatest tactician during the war. I always have a contingency plan.” 

He raises the dagger in his hand, scrutinizing his reflection in the blade before pointing it menacingly at you, the tip stopping just short of your chest.

“How ironic that her devotion to you will be the very thing that leads her to her downfall,” he says with a menacing grin.

A tiny shiver of fear runs through you but you manage to muster some confidence to reply to him.

“I’ll never let you hurt her,” you say, determination burning in your eyes.

But Dreykov's smirk only widens as he flips the dagger in his hand, offering you the hilt with a chilling grin.

“Then it’s a good thing that I won’t be the one who does.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you for reading! Also, I’m sorry if it was kind of long…but I didn’t want to split it up 😬

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