#there's nothing wrong with writing fast or slow or whatever but it is indeed possible to write in large volumes

[heroes-fading]

for the love of god stop feeding my dumb fic into LLMs. it'll only make you dumber, and me feel dumber along the way. i do not use LLMs.

[chuckbass-love]

Hi! I know you only just posted it but would it be possible to request 33&36 from the prompts with Ransom please?❤️

A/N: Thank you for your patience on this one, i really hope when you read it that it was worth the wait. Also thank you for requesting in the first place, it means a lot that people ask me to write fics for them.

Prompt #33: "Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic"

Prompt #36: "You'd better watch your fucking mouth"

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warning: Smut! Unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, swearing, daddy kink, implied alcohol consumption and use of the word slut/degradation. 18+ everyone....

Word Count: 2,191

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @twerkforambrose go check them out 💕

Your Filthy Addiction

Five more minutes, you’re going to give that arrogant son of a bitch five more minutes before you toss the food you’d made earlier. You’ve spent all dam day slaving away in that kitchen of yours to make sure Ransom had a decent home cooked meal to come back to after a long day working with Harlan, and what does he do? He doesn’t even show up.

You might love him but if you didn’t get annoyed at least once a day with him then life wouldn’t be right. He’s always doing something to mess you around.

And today is testament to that, it’s testament to the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t help but let you down. Maybe now you’ve had enough of sitting idly by and letting him walk all over you.

So when he eventually stumbles into the house, his tipsy state as clear as day, your cage is well and truly rattled.

“Where the hell have you been?” you snap, standing in front of him with your hands placed firmly on your hips as you take in his flustered cheeks. He’s very drunk indeed, probably due to the bottomless Jameson supply at the bar across town.

You’ve tried your hardest for years ever since the night you first met Ransom to help him with his obvious drinking problem but to no avail. And now you see why your solutions to his problems never worked, it was because despite his constant complaining about said problems, he loves having just a tiny bit of conflict in his life. Mostly with his good for nothing family who only treat him like dirt. But he gives as good as he gets, always has and always will.

“I was just out with Harvey” the way his shoulders move up as he shrugs only seems to bother you all the more. His lack of care for his actions have always created issues for your relationship but this takes the cake.

To some, your pouty and bratty behaviour may seem pathetic and unnecessary, but to you it’s more than him missing dinner. It’s about the fact that he always seems to let you down, over and over.

“Oh so you prefer his company over mine then? Because i made us a lovely meal so that we could eat together after a week of not being able to and this is the thanks i get? For my so called boyfriend to be swanning off with the master of one night stands” your voice is low, your stare dark and angry, your stance even more so and he can definitely see how badly he’s fucked up.

However, if you know Ransom well enough, then you can certainly see his change in attitude coming a mile off.

“You’d better watch your fucking mouth” he barks, his finger pointed directly in your face as he stalks closer to you. You find yourself stepping back, intimidation controlling you.

“Or what? You gonna make me? Judging by the way you’ve been acting you don’t have a leg to stand on” you say matter of factly as you shake your head in disgust at his nerve. How dare he boss you around when he’s the one who’s been out of line all this time.

“Maybe i will” he pokes his chin out as he stands tall, hands by his sides. He looks awfully confident as he inches closer. His index finger slips underneath your chin as he forces you to look directly into his menacing eyes.

You feel your breath catch in this moment. The knowledge of him doing whatever he wants to do to you just because he can is causing your entire body to shiver with anticipation. Despite how he makes you feel sometimes, you’re a sucker for him and everything he does.

He says jump, you say how high.

“What?” you murmur, wanting him to use his words just like he always makes you do.

“I said, maybe i will make you. Bet you’d love that, slut” you wince at the horrid nickname. It’s moments like these when you always try your hardest to avoid thinking about how his degradation of you makes you feel, your mind is objecting but your body is giving him the green light.

How is that?

How does he always manage to do that?

Must be some kind of mind control as you absentmindedly follow him through to the kitchen, his hand barely holding onto your own.

Before you can even make sense of things, he pushes you over the kitchen counter forcefully.

His hands splay across your ass cheeks as he lifts your dress up, bunching it at your waist before yanking your ruined panties down your bare legs. Next thing you know his fingers are toying at your dripping wet hole.

“Would ya look at this...you can try all you like to act up sweetheart, but you and i both know why this cunt of yours is soaked”

There he goes again, spewing filth to get you to give up the jig. You know you have to remain strong and stable but it’s so hard to do that when he....wait! Is he inserting his fingers? Fuck, they are so thick inside of you and two already? He must be a mind reader to know how this makes you feel, he must know what gets you keening because now here you are pushing back on them like a needy little brat.

“Pushing back on my fingers already? How pathetic” he tuts, his tone mocking as he chuckles a little. Still, his fingers remain as they twist and turn inside of you, scissoring you open before he adds a third.

Fuck, this is delicious torture. The man you’re supposed to be mad at but you can’t bring yourself to be when he makes your body feel so good.

The undeniable and powerful pleasure that he provides is just too good to quit. You could never let him go even if you actively tried to which by the way, you’ve attempted it a hundred times at least.

But every time you try he just lures you back in with his sexual prowess, his high libido and those dashing good looks. His sweet talk isn’t too bad either.

When will you ever learn to strengthen yourself up and walk away? Because he’s never going to change but oh shit, the way he’s pumping his fingers in and out rapidly is enough to cause the coil in your stomach to tighten one last time.

You move to meet his fingers, hips gyrating in circular motions slowly as you reach your hand between your legs.

Of course he pushes you hand away, insisting on using his own. His thumb presses down on your pulsating clit and the breathy groans that are escaping him let you know that he can sense your impending orgasm.

“Come on, baby. Cum for daddy” he urges, rubbing firm circles on you clit as his fingers curl inside of you, pushing against that spongy spot deep within. The one that will have you seeing stars in, 3...2...1.

“FUCK RANSOM” you scream out, hands gripping the kitchen counter so hard that it turns your knuckles white, his fingers continue to drive into you over and over as he rides you through your intense high.

“That’s my girl, just like that. Let go, baby” you can hear the smirk in his voice, the smugness he feels knowing that yet again he’s prevented you from walking away.

He’s convinced you to stay just by pleasuring you with his filthy touch, his sinful thick digits.

You may be weak, but with a man this good, a man capable of making your pretty little pussy cum over and over, why would you want to be anything else?

As soon as you come down from the high, you stand up, straightening your posture as you turn around to face him. The proud look covering his face lets you know that it’s all a game to him.

You pull your dress back down so that it’s covering up your modesty before pulling your panties up.

“What’s wrong, sad eyes?” he pokes, his hands resting either side of the counter, caging you in.

“You know what. You can’t just keep using sex to keep me around, Ransom” you huff in defeat, bothered by your lack of strong will.

“Sure i can, and what’s more, you’re gonna enjoy it too” he raises his eyebrows as he spins you back around, keeping your back arched by yanking your head backwards.

Every inch of your skin turns to gooseflesh as he trails his finger down the curve of your back before reaching your tail bone and pushing your dress up. He undoes the belt around his slacks before popping open the button and slipping them down along with his boxers, freeing his erection from its tight confines.

He slips your arousal covered panties to the side before smothering his eager red tip in your mouth watering pussy juices. Once he catches on your entrance he slams inside of you, but before you can jerk forward he hooks his arm into both of yours as he holds them behind you firmly.

You can never leave him, even if you truly wanted to, you’re stuck in an ongoing loop of orgasms and rough sex.

A frantic whimper slips off your tongue as his pace now renders on animalistic, hard and fast, just the way you both like it.

Of course the real pleasure comes from the slow and hard thrusts, the ones where he gently pokes at your g spot as he lays on top of you. Your legs wrapped around him, his face in the crook of your neck. But now is not the time for gentle and slow, now is the time for rushed and needy.

He’s desperate to achieve that orgasm just as much as he is to provide one for you. To feel your legs shaking as your head lulls back to rest on his chest, eyes rolling to the back of your head, it’s something he can never and will never get enough of. The way your walls are clamping down on him right now should be illegal as he can feel his balls tighten with the impending release.

“Fuck. Keep tightening those walls baby, let yourself go. Just. One. Last. Time” his voice desperate as his breathing turns ragged, matching yours. Your chest starts to rise and fall before your head falls back to rest on his chest just like he loves. He can feel your entire body tremble in his hold as he loosens his grip and pushes you over the counter.

“Gonna fucking cum, deep inside of this pussy. Gonna fill you up with my cum, baby” he growls, his voice deeper than before. He’s so painfully close, as are you.

And as you flutter around him one last time, he spills his load inside of you, causing you to stand up onto your tip toes with your head pressed into the marble counter.

He paints your walls with thick white ropes before twitching as he slows down his thrusts, then he stills his hips.

All that can be heard in this kitchen is heavy panting before the sound of your pussy squelching as he pulls out distracts you. He pulls his slacks back up, making quick work of his zip, button and belt whilst you toss your panties into the hamper by the laundry room and pull your dress back down before heading up to your bedroom.

New panties are a must.

“Now do you get it?” he asks, leaning on the open doorway to your room and causing you to turn and face him once your fresh panties are on.

“Get what?”

“Your mine and you always will be, until i say otherwise” he states, shocking you.

“I’m not your property, Ransom”

“Oh but you are, those soaked panties in that hamper prove it. So get used to it, because you’re never leaving me, especially not now”

You’re well and truly fucked... held captive by his intoxicating smell, intimidating demeanour and his undeniable skills in the bedroom.

Guess you should have known from the day you first met Hugh Ransom Drysdale that you’d never make it out alive if you were to run.

But the real question is, do you even want to leave him? He’s everything you detest but still you stay and continue to crave more of him.

And the answer to that question would be no, no you wouldn't want to leave.

He may be a prick, an arrogant asshole and a cocky son of a bitch but he is an addiction...your filthy addiction, and you wouldn’t have it or him any other way.

-------------------------

General Tags: @deadlymistress24 @coffeebooksandfandom @chris-butt @holtzkinnon @mychemicalimagines @llamadelreyx @haus-of-bitch-talk @buckstaybucky @thewinchestergirl1208 @chrissquares @patzammit @dummiesshort @cevans-fics @americasass91 @toni9 @aaliferous @bradfordmyworld @thereisa8ella @candlefics @yassspose @randomsevans @fanficforfun

Just Chris & Characters Tags: @onetwo3000 @sheofthegarden @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @mrsbbarnesrogers @princess-evans-addict @stxvercgersslut @chris-evanslover @bval-1 @thejemersoninferno @denisemarieangelina @janeyboo @evansphnx12 @dwights-new-plague @whxre4cevans @cherry-gemz @chvntelle-99 

LMK if you want to be added to my tag list...

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.16

No One

02/04/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,025

Warnings: angst, jealousy, crying, infertility, talk of pregnancy, trouble conceiving, smut, LOTS of fluff

A/N: I’m sorry this one took me a bit to get out. I know y’all tell me not to be sorry but I am still sorry lol I stopped taking my endo meds since I can no longer afford them with no healthcare, I got my period and my endo said FUCK YOU! I was in bed for the entirety of my period with no energy to do anything but lay there and do nothing. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I’ve been excited to get to this chapter and I hope it’s worth the wait. Thank you for any comments or reblogs! xoxo

Thor has never been so eager to get back to New Asgard. Even back in the beginning when Jane had been living with him in those first small houses that they’d built when his new Kingdom was nothing but a distant dream.

Even then, this sensation of yearning had not been so strong.

Every moment away from you has been unbearable. The detour he’d taken after just arriving only increased his desire because if seeing Jane has shown him anything it’s that he has indeed made the right choice.

He really hadn’t doubted it, but it’s nice to know that even with Jane standing inches away from him, his heart had not pounded. His breath had not caught. His fingers had not tingled as they once had in their wish to touch.

Her brown eyes, once beyond beautiful, are indeed still pretty. However, they aren’t yours. Yours that look at him with an innocent admiration. Love pours from them so freely. Eagerly.

You’re not afraid to show him how you feel and it takes his breath away how much you’ve given into loving him.

All he can do is try to return your love with the same fervor. So far he thinks he has been doing the job well.

As he struts forward towards your shared bedroom, he reaches into his cloak, down along his left hip to unhook a small leather satchel bulging with its contents.

Smiling down at what he hopes will be a welcome and pleasing gesture, he makes to open the doors to the room but finds them thrust out towards him.

Instinctively his hand twitches around the satchel, almost throwing his palm out to call his remade hammer, but he resists.

From his bedroom spill two beings. One Asgardian, one human. The doors swing shut behind them.

“Doctor Wilson? Alric?” Thor teeters back onto his right foot, completely surprised to see them. “What brings-?”

Both of them look grave and Thor’s heart hits the pit of his stomach. All of the strength in the universe leaves him in one terrifying instant.

“Is Y/N alright? Is she hurt? Injured? Has something happened?”

In his panic he begins to push through them and they move aside for him but before he can open the doors to get in to see you, Alric reaches out to place his hand on Thor’s shoulder.

“Just our monthly visit, nothing to fret about Your Majesty,” Alric assures him and yet, Thor’s squirming nerves are not put at ease. “Unfortunately things do not look well for an heir as of now.”

“They don’t exactly look bad either, Alric,” Doctor Wilson interjects. “We’re in uncharted territory, Your Majesty. We have to play this as it comes at us. I’m sure with Alric’s help we’ll find a way to make it work.”

Their words at the moment aren’t making any sense to Thor. All he wants is to see you.

“Right…” he says on reflex, but his voice is weak.

His mind on you and only you.

“She is a little melancholy after our news so, perhaps it’s best we let you go see her. Until next month, Your Majesty,” Doctor Wilson gives him a curtsy. “If you need us before then, you have our numbers.”

Alric gives Thor a bow and the two of them march off, Alric lugging a strange metal case along with him.

With nothing to hold him back now, Thor pulls the doors open and hurries inside.

He scans the room from the left to the right, expecting you in the bathroom but you aren’t there. Several of the doors to the balcony are open letting in a much warmer breeze than this morning but still very cool.

Thor finally spots you sitting at your vanity, your hand pressed to the inside of your elbow as you hold a small cotton ball against the point at which one of your doctors probably drew some blood.

Even that tiny sting of a needle piercing your beautiful skin makes his heart ache. Any pain you feel is his own and he can’t believe he forgot what today was.

“Cherub?”

You don’t look at him and instead keep your hand pressed tightly, fingers moving in slow and small circles.

He can’t see your face from here. You’re turned away, sitting with your gaze trained on the balcony doors closest to your vanity.

Thor can’t take you not looking at him. He sets his satchel on the chaise at the end of the bed and when he reaches your left side, he squats down so that he can look up at you, his right hand taking gentle hold under your left bicep. His left hand he places over your right one, pressed against the inside of your left elbow.

“I’m sorry about today. I forgot they were coming for your tests,” Thor confesses, feeling so guilty he could leap from the balcony and welcome the pain of any bones he might break.

The silence is heavy and he thinks he might really be in for it and opens his mouth to plead for your forgiveness when you give him relief, “So did I.”

He breathes in deeply and with a wave of relief releases his worries in a gust of air.

“Alric said that things did not look good. You’re not with child?”

Even though he knows, he still needs to hear you say it. He wants to know what you’re thinking to make whatever is making your face look so sad go away.

He takes his right hand and runs it along your lower back instead, rubbing in what he hopes is a soothing way.

Finally, you turn your head towards your vanity and he can see more of your heartbreaking expression. He hasn’t seen that loss of hope in your beautiful face since the night you begged him not to make a fool of you just before dinner on a night that feels a lifetime away.

“No, it-it wasn’t a no. The test was inconclusive.”

“Inconclusive? So, what does that mean? Does that mean they don’t know?” Thor asks, confusion twisting his handsome face.

“No, it just means that the test didn’t come back in any way that they could read it. We’re not exactly the same species even if we are compatible physically, we don’t know if we can even get pregnant. They took more of my blood and are going to do the test with more reliable equipment.

“They’ll call when they know something,” you sigh heavily, leaning back against your seat and trapping his hand between it and your body.

Thor tries to think of what he can say to make you feel better. What can he do?

And then what he has to say doesn’t matter as you turn to meet his gaze with your own full of betrayal and suspicion.

When your mouth parts, your words freeze him and his brain short circuits.

“I saw you with Jane earlier on the tower, Thor. I’m sorry but I-I thought you were going to come find me as soon as you got back, not your ex.”

You take a deep breath and Thor watches as your nerves spill forward, your lips trembling as you slowly exhale and all of your fears shine out through the depths of your eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Why are you crying, cherub?” Thor gushes, pulling his hand from your back to turn your seat to face him.

He cups both sides of your face, his large thumbs wiping away at the tears that spring forward.

It had seriously messed with you to see him and Jane so happy and close earlier. And then the tests and Doctor Alric and Doctor Wilson had no idea what was wrong with them so that was stressing you out.

All of your jealousy and frustration pours out of you suddenly. So fast and so unrelenting that with just this small bit of affection from Thor makes you shut your eyes tight as you sob two-three times.

“Y/N...no, my love, please. Don’t cry,” Thor begs, his own throat tight as he pulls you towards him.

You let him hold you because as insecure as you feel, as upset as this morning has made you, his love still feels real. The softness in his voice doesn’t sound fake and as much as he is the source of one of the aches in your chest, he’s your comfort now too.

How fucked up is that?!

He caresses the back of your head as you bury it against his shoulder, slumped down a little because of how low he is in his squat.

His other arm is wrapped all the way around you, firm. Possessive and eager to make you feel better. Can you trust this display?

Until this morning you had no reason to doubt it.

“We will have our baby soon, I know it. I can feel it. I’m not only the God of Thunder, you know? Trust me, cherub. I know these things. We’ll have our little one before you know it.”

He sounds so confident, so sure. He’s lost that tightness in his throat a little and he pushes you back so that he can look into your eyes, quickly wiping away at the saltwater stains on your cheeks.

“As for your former worry, I went to the tower because the lights were on. I wasn’t sure who was there so I simply went to check. I wasn’t expecting Jane out of all the people it could have possibly been.

“I’d hoped it was you, finally making use of the tower for your own office to write or perhaps your own personal library?” Thor’s instincts on what you might want a private space to be.

You suddenly feel foolish for doubting him for even a second. It makes you cry again, and you bury your face in your hands.

“No, my love, please don’t cry anymore,” he continues to beg. “Look, I’ve brought you a gift.”

He gets up suddenly and moves towards the package he’d been carrying when he came in. It wasn’t large. About the size of a shoebox.

“I thought of you when I was passing over Paris on my way home. You can eat them all at once or slowly, whichever you prefer,” He flips open the leather satchel and from inside pulls a thick and shiny rust colored box with a satin brown ribbon that delicately holds it closed.

It looks expensive and he doesn’t wait for you to take it since you’re too busy wiping at your cheeks and sniffling to grab it. He pushes the ribbon off of the box then removes the lid and places it underneath while tossing the ribbon onto your vanity.

“I’m not sure what each of them is, but you don’t have to eat the ones you don’t like. I’ll eat them for you,” he pushes fancy gold tissue paper aside to expose the contents within.

Inside the box is a tray of twenty-four chocolate pieces. Some of them have designs painted on them with what is more likely more chocolate in bright colors and patterns. Other pieces look to be decorated in plain chocolate with small embossed hearts, triangles, or teeny tiny bows.

The box is too thick for this to be all there is, so you’re pretty sure there are two trays of chocolates.

“Do you like them?” Thor checks, his voice light and rising at the end gently almost as if he’s talking to a small child which maybe should offend you?

But it doesn’t because you know that’s not what he means by the tone he’s using. He’s being as gentle with you as he can in your moment of sad anxiety and you love him so much for it.

“They’re so pretty…” you hiccup, wishing you weren’t so emotional and crying all over his lovely gift.

“That’s not all,” he tells you, putting the chocolates on your vanity to free up his hands to reach into his satchel again.

You quickly cover the chocolates, pushing the ribbon around the sleek container before they can be ruined.

Thor tosses the satchel onto the chaise with a flick of his wrist but draws your attention to him when he places another box on your lap. This one is much smaller, but wide and square.

“Happy two months of marriage, cherub,” Thor says softly, then carefully lifts the lid of his second gift.

Nestled within lush purple velvet is a beautiful platinum chain, thin, short so that the gorgeous lotus flower with your birthstone gem settled at its very center will sit just below your collarbone.

“It’s so beautiful, Thor.”

All of a sudden you’re crying again.

Thor smiles and rises again, taking the necklace from inside the box which he tosses onto the chaise too before moving around behind you to slip the necklace around your neck.

You reach up to place your fingers on the pretty flower, sniffling and trying not to make your crying too vocal but a sob or two slips out.

Thor moves back around you and takes a long look at your mess of a face before he takes your hand and pulls you to your feet, “Come here, love.”

He waits for you to stand then takes your spot on your seat but then leads you down onto his lap.

Reaching up with his hand, he gives the back of your neck a squeeze while his other hand finds a resting spot on your thigh.

“Is it Jane still upsetting you?” he guesses.

You nod, unwilling to say it aloud.

“Why? What exactly is it that’s troubling you?”

He genuinely doesn’t seem to understand. While he might understand your nerves about her, the reason you’re still crying is lost on him.

You don’t want to say, but Thor bounces you a little in his lap, taking his hand to caress the side of your face and hold your gaze.

“Nothing you can say will make me love you any less.” A promise.

“When I saw you two this morning, you just looked so h-happy,” your lip quivers. “You looked happy. Pleased. You were smiling that one smile that’s only supposed to be mine.”

For some reason Thor’s chest puffs up a little, a proud fix to his chin as he reaches up to grab yours and give your head a little shake.

“It is all yours, cherub. I am completely yours. I was so happy when I was with Jane this morning because I felt nothing of what I’d once felt for her. I had no stuttering in my heart, no butterflies in my belly. I wasn’t taken by her eyes or tempted by her lips.”

“Alright, I get the picture,” you grumble, hating everything he’s describing even though you know he’s telling you that he wasn’t feeling any of it.

He chuckles, bringing his hand down to rest on your hip.

“I was happy because Jane is no longer the source of all of that for me. You are. All meeting her so unexpectedly proved is that I am more in love with you than I ever thought I could be. You were my arranged match. The most I had ever expected was friendship. And when that turned into more, I wondered if it could really be more than what I ever felt for Jane and it is.

“Jane was always a dear love but you are family. It’s only been a short time since we married but you are more my love than Jane ever was. You’re my cherub!”

He doesn’t wait for you to recover from his little speech. He hooks his hand behind your neck and pulls you down for a kiss.

It quickly changes and shifts and the lonely night you’d spent tense and worried, missing him, explodes you onto him. You’re both a frenzy of movement, Thor ripping away at his armor until he’s in the plain dark undershirt and a very small pair of black briefs.

You’re about to push him onto your bed when he suddenly grabs you and tosses you around his massive body and onto the bed to bounce as you land with a gasp.

He shoves his briefs down, still kicking them away as he steps towards you and gathers the long skirts of your dress higher and higher around your hips.

“Thor…” you whisper, a gasp of anticipation which drives him a little wild as he yanks you closer to the edge of the bed and thrusts into you with a shaky groan.

He goes still for a moment, hooking his hands around your thighs more securely. He bottoms out, sheathing his cock within you until you reach down to scratch at the bottom of his shirt then his hands as you fall back against the bed.

“Please,” you plead and he quickly obliges.

He pumps into you, filling you to the brim with no intention of ever stopping.

~~~~~~~~~~

You and Thor eventually come out of your room. You dressed in your carefully chosen dress and Thor a little less regal in a pair of crisp dark jeans, and layered up in a green sweater over a blue button up collar shirt over a plain white t-shirt.

Honestly though, even in his slightly more casual ensemble, Thor screams royalty. He’s so beautiful.

Both of you giggling like giddy kids, he pulls you closer and loops your arm through his.

It makes you happy that he likes you close by. He proves it now as he leans down to whisper so that only you can hear him as the palace staff moves about cleaning and fixing up the rooms that have been used throughout the day.

“I’m a little glad you’ve decided not to use the tower for a workspace.” Thor confesses.

“How come?” you wonder, turning your face to look at him, genuinely curious as to the change of mind. He’d been so insistent before about you having your own personal space to work in peace where no one could bother you and you didn’t have to give up writing your stories even if you were now Queen of New Asgard.

“I don’t know if I could stand having you that far away from me. Our night apart has only driven that home for me. I want you always at my side.”

His sentiment is sweet and you stop to turn and face him, reaching up to place your hands on his bearded cheeks to smoosh them because he’s so damn adorable. He’s massive so you have to push yourself up, lifting your heels a little to do so comfortably.

“Do you have any idea how incredibly lovable that makes you?” you ask.

He smiles despite you morphing his face, beaming down at you with a look that must mean he loves you. Everything he says has to be true. The more you think about it, the more you realize that your jealousy, while founded, doesn’t make any sense now that you’re married.

Not after everything the two of you have shared and been through. Not after all the time you’ve spent building this foundation with him. 

“Quite a lot more than I was before?” he guesses. “Only, maybe not when I go to the bathroom?”

Through your smile you tilt your head to the side a little, confused by his amendment to his desires.

“Why?” What difference does it make?

He drops his voice to a whisper and leans down a little closer to you, “Sometimes I have smelly poops.”

You’re not expecting that and throw your head back as a loud unfiltered laugh rips through you. The movement pulls you down flat onto your feet but Thor catches you with one arm around your waist to pull you back up onto your toes and against his hard body.

He’s laughing too as he dips down and kisses your laughing mouth, silencing you a little so that it’s only air slipping through your lips as you kiss him back.

It’s just a long held peck. He’s relishing in the feel of your lips against his as your body shakes with more laughter.

Still laughing with you, Thor pulls back and gripes, “Stop laughing and kiss me!”

You drop your head against his chest as you keep laughing, unable to help it because the cuteness of him being self-conscious about his smelly poops is too much for you to handle.

Especially considering that you’ve both already been in the bathroom together when the other is using the toilet.

He loosens his arm around your waist so that you fall down a little further but keeps his hand resting on the small of your back while the other hand he places on the back of your head, caressing it as you chuckle weakly from laughing so much.

The sound of a clearing throat brings both your heads turning to the end of the hallway.

Your visiting trio stand there, Tony smirking, Bruce smiling shyly, Jane averts her eyes.

“Uh, get a room?” Tony suggests, but you can tell from his tone that he’s only teasing.

“Where do you think we’ve been all morning?” Thor grins, readjusting with you to hook your arm on his elbow before leading you towards your guests.

“So that’s what those screams were,” Tony counters.

Thor wiggles his eyebrows at them but your neck burns and your mouth pops open in surprise and embarrassment.

You start to fret, hands fluttering up towards your new necklace as you look from Tony to Jane, who’s looking at her shoes, to Bruce who is smiling with his own laughter in his eyes.

“Was I-? I didn’t mean to-! Thor, I didn’t know that I was being-” your panic is real and your heart is thrumming a million miles an hour.

“He’s teasing you, cherub, don’t worry,” Thor assures you, dropping your arm from his elbow to wrap his own arm around your waist to pull you into his side again.

You turn to Tony and he’s laughing a little. Not maliciously, just purely entertained by your reaction.

“I-a joke?” you ask him, still uncertain.

“Sorry,” Tony says, nodding. “Just a joke.”

You swallow hard, trying to settle your heartbeat.

Thor kisses your head and like a switch is flipped, all of them shift into work mode.

“Have you started installing the security system?” Thor asks Tony and all together the five of you move down into the lowest level of the palace which actually happens to be a dungeon?

You’re not really listening to their conversation as you move with them, still flustered about you possibly letting all of your sex noises reverberate through the halls of the palace for everyone to hear, but when you reach a large vault-like door, you start to focus again.

As the heavy door slides open like part of some futuristic spaceship, you’re thrown into a large room about the size of the throne room where you’d had your wedding reception only it looks nothing like the rest of the palace.

This place looks more like the Avengers compound. High-tech stations line the walls, large monitors with readings you don’t understand and camera footage from places you recognize from around New Asgard and the palace itself.

There’s a full crew working all of the stations, Asgardians and humans, all of them wearing the same charcoal gray uniforms, splashes of gold and red like Thor’s cape on their shoulders and chests.

As you and Thor enter, they stop what they’re doing to stand at attention, bowing to both of you as Thor leads you to the center of the room where a large stone table is set with schematics of plans that you don’t understand.

Tony moves over to them and starts to sift through the many scrolls all laid out for viewing while Thor nods to the crew.

“At ease, my friends.”

He’s so nice. The crew fall back into their respective jobs.

One of them moves towards a large screen against the wall, a TV you realize, playing different news footage from all over the world.

He flips to another channel and you pull away from Thor to walk and stand beside the crewman who stands taller once you’re beside him.

He turns to you and gives you a quick bow, “Your Majesty.”

Turning to him, you smile and then look back at the screen, “To monitor any weird things happening around Earth?”

“Yes, m’am,” he asserts then flips the channel again.

This time it’s a documentary style report, you see a familiar scene. New York in shambles as Iron Man, Hawkeye, Black Widow, the Hulk, Captain America, and your Thor fight off the invading Chitauri.

Slowly another body settles beside you, its warmth drawing your attention to it.

“I still remember that day, sort of,” Bruce says gently, his voice always so easy and calm.

It’s hard to believe he can turn into the giant Hulk in seconds.

“Was it scary?”

“Sort of. I think for me, I was just worried that Hulk would hurt someone other than the aliens. But by then I think he understood what side we were on.” Bruce nods.

“But, aren’t you the Hulk?” His words confuse you a little.

“Well, yeah, but also no. He’s like another half of me? If that makes sense? I haven’t worked out how to combine both sides yet. I’m there, I’m just...it’s like someone takes who you are and reduces you to your most basic instincts.

“We’re almost like two different people but we’re also the same person. I’m working on understanding our connection better. Underneath the Hulk, I’m still me. I’m still there I think. I’m just trapped for some reason.”

The two of you watch the screen in silence for a moment then Thor shows up, blasting the Chitauri with his lightning. He looks a little different because he has both eyes and his hair!

“Thor had long hair,” you realize, gushing a little.

“Did I look better with long hair?” his deep voice slips into your right ear and you jump not having been expecting it.

“Not better,” you promise him, smiling at him before turning your eyes back on the TV. “Just different. It suits you.”

“Should I grow it back?”

With excitement, you turn to face him and he chuckles at whatever look you have in your eyes, “Would you? Wouldn’t it bother you?”

“If it will make you look at me the way you’ve been staring at me on that television, I will go out and buy a wig.”

You laugh and Thor leans down to give you a quick peck.

“It’s that time of year I guess,” Tony says, sliding over to stand on Bruce’s other side where Jane is already standing having moved over at some point.

She still hasn’t said anything.

“What time of year?” You wonder.

“Oh, in Spring they always start to play footage on some of the news channels about Loki’s party days in New York. Some type of anniversary celebration or something? Only it’s more like a wake.”

“It’s a memorium,” you realize, then look at Thor who seems to sense your upset.

He wraps his arm around you and settles in beside you, kissing the top of your head again.

“Where is Loki?” you ask him, frowning with worry and wondering if it must upset him to have one of his biggest mistakes thrown in his face for weeks.

“He’s tending to business with the guard. He’ll come find us when he’s finished,” Thor promises.

After a tense moment, Tony claps his hands and then pats Bruce’s shoulder, “Shall we? Pepper wants me home by Friday so that we can explore the wonderful art of tantric massage.”

As Bruce turns to follow Tony back to the center table where a new console computer has come from a panel at the center you hadn’t noticed, he gives him a skeptical look.

“Pepper? Are you sure it isn’t you pushing the tantric massage?” Bruce sounds like he already knows the answer.

Tony shrugs, “I’m not the bossy anymore.”

You look back at the TV, your worry only spiking at the thought of Loki coming down here and finding all of you watching.

“Change it to something else,” you tell the crewman. “Make sure no one puts it on that channel again.”

“Yes, m’am,” he bows his head in obedience and quickly changes the channel while moving to a small box hooked up to it where a small screen comes out and he quickly goes about pressing buttons hopefully blocking any and all sources of that footage so that Loki doesn’t accidentally have his face shoved into his past.

“Don’t worry, my cherub. Loki is well aware of what the Earth grieves at this time of year. He won’t be blindsided by it.”

“I still don’t like it,” you insist, unable to shake the frown from your face.

“Thor?” Jane’s voice interrupts you both softly.

He looks at her and you give her a glance before turning to look at the news reports on the TV.

“I’m gonna need one of these mainframes for the telescope. Which one can I take?”

“Right,” Thor nods, “Of course. Let’s find you a place to work.”

Before he leaves you he leans in and kisses the side of your head again, squeezing your hip before he moves with Jane away towards the many workstations in the very large room.

After getting everything sorted out this morning, your heart doesn’t even sway towards jealousy and even though you’re worried about Loki, you breathe a sigh of relief that your realization about Thor’s loyalty has really engrained itself into you.

He loves you and nothing will change that. Even as they laugh somewhere behind you, your confidence doesn’t waver.

You reach up and touch the lotus on your necklace, a shining reminder of Thor missing you on his very first night away from you since your wedding.

You’re sure now that no one will ever come between you and Thor.

No one.

[chrysalispen]

pursuit/predation (zenoswol)

This was a lot of fun LMAO I hope you all enjoy reading as much as i did writing it! Commission for @noxi-lumi featuring their WoL, Raziela Undeni <3

NSFW under cut. CW for mildly violent imagery (it is Zenos, after all).

======

Two and a half fulms below the angled opening of his makeshift bolthole, Zenos yae Galvus peered up at the sky with a borrowed face to watch the storm that had raged for two days. The levin-aspected aether in the northern hinterlands of Gyr Abania often lent itself to violent thunderstorms, with static bursts that rendered the escarpment too hazardous to cross. There were waypoints in the mountains to seek shelter from the weather but he had eschewed them, thinking that the fewer encounters to detain (and bore) him, the better. 

He had ever chafed at forced inactivity, but all in all, Zenos reasoned, this was but a temporary setback. Man was a beast bred for hunting, a pursuit predator, and he was nothing if not the pinnacle of that ideal. He would do as his ancient ancestors had done: bide his time and await his next opportunity. Once the storm had spent itself, he could go.

He whistled the opening bars of a parade ground march under his breath - a low and toneless sound like loch winds moaning around the corners of sandstone - and let his eyes fall shut.

Seconds and minutes passed as an age. Bereft of aught else to entertain him, his thoughts turned to his memories of the Eorzeans’ champion: that wild creature of sword and spell. Eikon-slayer. Saviour of the savages, so-called. Epithets overheard from idle barracks' chatter, although Zenos set little stock in the distinction between his own kind and the rest of the world as others did. Garleans bled the same, quailed in fear the same, and died screaming the same as any savage, and she had long since proven her mettle to his satisfaction. She strode the world as he did, towering above her fellows, a beast without peer. 

He still recalled with crystal clarity the day they had met. Then he had barely paid mind to her paltry attempts to halt his advance; countless enemies had attacked him out of fear or desperation to stave off the inevitable, after all. Even so, he had seen neither of those things in their hero's magenta eyes. A grim sort of determination, to be sure; the steely resolve he would expect of one well-versed in the path he walked himself- but no fear. 

There had been another emotion which he still couldn’t quite define, the faintest flicker of something. Curiosity, mayhap. His own exultation in the heat of the fight, mirrored in her mien. A reflection of himself, some alternate path he had never chanced to walk. 

Whatever it was he had seen that day, it had moved him to spare her life. 

And how right he had been to do it. She was worth a score of tribunes on her own-- fivescore, if the truth be told. Had she agreed to his proposal, or had he kept his word rather than indulge his lust for violence in that precise moment… 

How very different things might have been. 

Well, perhaps, he amended. They each had their parts to play. But upon the stage of his imaginings, anything was possible. There he could entertain to his heart’s content his fantasies of his friend returned to him, stronger still for her own tribulations. 

He meant to duel her again and had no doubt she would oblige him.  The prospect of it did not deter him; no, he yearned for the excitement of it. The surge of heat through the veins with each perfectly executed step, air burning the throat and whistling in the lungs, the ever-present specter of death looming over one’s shoulder-- what was violence, in truth, but a dance? Were not those dances with the most precarious, most intricate of steps best enjoyed with a partner of comparable skill? 

In the end that was what he had seen in her: a worthy partner, at long last. Whether to stand at his side or to test her blade against his, he would accept both, but to fight his most precious friend once more, to recapture that kindled flame-- that would be a fine thing.

Oh yes, that would be quite fine indeed.

Remembered delight shuddered its way across the surface of his skin, a delicious and almost delicate frisson that bored its way down his spine to curl and tighten in the pit of his belly. Zenos was no stranger to lust; since his majority plenty of his lessers had used their bodies to curry his favor for some petty reason or other, with naught in their hearts save ambition and fear. Carnal knowledge was both prosaic and vulgar, rutting the sole province of mindless beasts, and it had not taken him long to decide that such matters held little of interest or value to him. 

But this sweet and languorous warmth, like honey in a well-steeped tea-- he realized that he did not mind it so very much. It reminded him of the menagerie, and his last sight of her before he had opened his own throat and bled out into the flowers. Joy, pure and transcendent. 

Yes, he decided; this pleased him.

With a soft grunt Zenos shifted his hips. The motion left him keenly aware of the physical evidence of his arousal against the mild rise below his navel, where it strained against twin cages of cloth and leather for freedom. That spreading ache was not a sensation entirely alien to him, but it did strike him strange how very aware it made him of this borrowed body on such a base level. Heat and hyperawareness punctured the fine invisible layers of his detachment with the pinpoint precision of a sewing needle through linen.

His eyes fell shut once more in a series of slow and lazy blinks: a contented feline drowsing atop a fresh kill. 

He settled one hand over the seam of his breeches where the fabric was pulling taut and palmed himself, running his fingers lazily along the firm ridge his cock had formed beneath the thick weave. If he paid heed only to those slow and teasing strokes, he could convince himself that it was her, touching him so intimately---her hand dragging those sharp and immaculate nails he had glimpsed up and down his length. Scratching their points with calculated ease along the underside of his shaft, applying just enough pressure through the fabric to leave tiny trails of fire in their wake. 

A soft groan rumbled deep in his chest, and Zenos tilted his chin back so as to rest his head against the rock, thighs spreading to accommodate his girth. What would she do, he mused, should she chance to see him caught in the web of his own desire? Driven to distraction by the mere thought of her, the very picture of the animal in full rut which he had so scorned? 

The irony of it would amuse her, he had no doubt about that. Perhaps she might grin at the spectacle. 

Perhaps she would even laugh. He presumed to imagine it, a sight and sound he had yet to experience. A wicked, throaty peal of mirth. The toss of short sable locks, the tilt and swivel of long tufted ears, the stretch of her long and graceful neck as she tossed her chin. Grinned at him, feral and dark, that smile he so loved to see before her inevitable riposte. 

Savagery to rival his own, swathed in leather and crimson.

So thinking, Zenos’ fingers drifted upward of their own accord, straying from the insistent need betwixt his opened thighs to work at the waistband of his breeches instead. 

Lashes fluttered like a courtesan’s fan at the edges of angular cheekbones, suffused with color and dewy with a light band of sweat despite the chill within his shelter. In his mind’s eye, she straddled him as her clever fingers worked the buttons and laces that bound him fast, impatient to pluck her prize from its confines. He fancied he could feel the contained heat of her core against his leg even through the barrier of her smalls, burning as though the sun itself had branded him. 

When he raised himself to pull the offending fabric to his knees, it was she who closed her hand about his cock, grasping him just a touch too snugly. Her thumb stroked tiny circles over the foreskin as the shaft lunged eagerly within the cage of her palm; he could almost hear a hum of low-pitched approval. Each stroke she made eased the smooth, hot skin to retract and expose his crown: deeply flushed, its tip already glistening with precum. Zenos sighed, his borrowed body rocking upward to thrust into her hand, seeking friction to accompany that narrow squeeze. Anything would do, really. Except he needed--

Shallow breaths rasped unsteadily in the close space as he slicked his palm with his own saliva, grimaced, then took himself in hand once more. 

Wet heat and resistance alone nearly undid him. His startled inhalation made a sharp and rasping echo that he barely heard, lost as he was in his fantasy. She had shed her duelist’s garb, laid herself bare to embrace him with long and powerful thighs, like velvet-wrapped steel. He shuddered at the effort it took to control himself, to let gravity carry her down to sheathe him in her depths, to let her move atop him to counter his thrusts with her own: a beautiful beast with lips for kissing and teeth for tearing. She laid both to work upon his throat and his shoulders with each upward snap of his hips-- drank deep of him, and he of her, until his stomach ached from ribcage to groin with unrelieved tension. 

Violence in its own sense, he thought. A dance most intimate, and as real and as pure as the day they had parted.

“Yes, my beast,” he hissed aloud. The sibilant sound of his pleasure rose and reverberated around him, a chorus of empty whispers. “Just so.” His free hand fisted in a handful of loose gravel and his mouth fell slack and the spare limbs and lean angles of this unfamiliar vessel, all wrong, not his, arched like a bowstring. His heels dug into unyielding rock rather than bedsheets for purchase. Her fingers entwined with his, sharp nails grazing his knuckles, tiny cuts to blend with the myriad small scars left by 

(hunting. a pale silver-white web of scar tissue in the center of his left palm - his true vessel's left palm - where his fourteen-year-old self pierced it with a crystal. a parting gift to the first man he ever killed. its tendrils radiate outward between each of his fingers like the cracks made in a pane of shattered glass)

arrows and fletching. She was close; he fancied he could hear the labored rattle of her breathing with each small moan she made. Bracing her weight against his torso and balancing upon his thighs to bounce, sounds only he could hear tumbling from imaginary lips parted and glistening, her cunt flexing about him like a silken vise as she approached the edge of release and swept him along like an incoming tide--

--and the pressure in his groin dropped, at last, and when he spilled, his seed splashing over his frantically moving fist and locked fingers and onto the muscled slope of his exposed belly, it was her name which fell from his lips, not hero or beast but Raziela, Raziela.

Long moments passed before he opened his eyes, chest heaving and fingers numb and loosely wrapped about his spent cock, still pulsing beneath his touch. The syllables of her name seemed to echo in his ears, a mantra to recite to himself until he had locked it into his memory to recall at a whim. 

He waited in patient silence, willing his pulse to slow and his lungs to expand in an unhurried rise and fall. There was a low rumble from the opening of his shelter and after long moments, a flicker of lightning. The storm was passing and with it the levinstrikes. He would be able to move soon.

With movements as slow and languid as a sleepwalker’s, Zenos reached for the belt he had removed upon entering the cave and dug through its pockets until he found something that would serve as a washcloth. His gaze, as he wiped himself down and rearranged drab layers of linen and oilcloth into some semblance of order, was very far away, fixed upon the thinning clouds and the wheel of stars beyond. The moon hung low in the sky, bloated and orange.

I wonder where you are, my friend, he thought. If you have given thought to our meeting at all. 

“Raziela,” he whispered once more, as if testing the sensation of her name on his tongue. In the darkness of the cavern, his eyes glittered like a hungry cat’s.

It was only a matter of time before they were reunited; he would make certain of it. Once he had regained his true form, they would have their dance. A grand reunion upon a great stage, two stars to burn bright, and oh, there would be such a burning. To capture this bliss and relive it with her-- he would give anything in his power, and the very star itself would tremble at their union.

When he emerged from the cavern at last to clear skies and a still night, the moon hid its face behind a passing cloudbank like prey that had caught his scent. And within the bounds of his stolen vessel, Zenos yae Galvus smiled to see it.

[janetbrown711]

"You're everything to me" - Dot

Yakko didn’t dare let his siblings out of his sight the whole way back to Acme Falls. He couldn’t convince himself that they were alive if they weren’t right beside or in front of him. This feeling of protectiveness was only heightened when they were offered a ride from none other than the Baron himself.

Yakko had tried to refuse most adamantly, but he knew that they’d have to walk to Acme Falls by foot if they didn’t accept and Dot was still sick and weak (as well as injured from the cannonball) so they really didn’t have a choice.

Still. Yakko sat across from Plotz with his arms wrapped around his tired siblings and he watched the man with anger and curiosity as to what made him change his nature so suddenly.

Neither the Baron nor Yakko spoke much once in the carriage, and Wakko and Dot eventually went to sleep, which Yakko thought was fair. They had had quite the day, and it wasn’t over quite yet. They were still going to get Dot’s operation done, and the sooner the better.

“So... I know you’re wondering why I offered you a ride back to Acme Falls. You’re suspicious, which I don’t blame you for,” The baron spoke. Yakko rolled his eyes slightly.

“Considering how much you’ve always been out to get us and just about everyone else in the town? Yeah, I’d say I have a right,” Yakko glared. “And especially when you consider the number of times you tried to kill us today alone.”

“Right... yes...” The Baron looked away and held his hat in his hands, embarrassed.

“I know what I did, and I apologize. My greed overtook me as Baron and I promise to never collect another penny for the king ever again,” He promised and Yakko looked him up and down, unsure.

“Well- the King won’t be in power for much longer anyway, so I suppose I’ll need to do more...” Plotz said and looked out the window.

“What do you mean by that?” Yakko raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, well after seeing what the King did to Dot, the guards quickly turned against him, and with rebellions against the king getting stronger in other towns it’s only a matter of time before he’s gone and the people will start looking for the true heirs to the Warnerstock Throne,” Plotz explained.

Yakko froze.

“I... uh...” He couldn’t respond. For years he had wanted nothing more than Salazar to be punished for his heinous crimes, but... well.. that????

He hadn’t expected that.

“Oh yes, there are quite a few rumors going around as to where they could be,” Plotz said, completely unaware they were sitting right across from them. Yakko gulped.

“Well... I uh, hope they find them,” Yakko said, wishing to end the conversation as soon as possible.

“Yes well, I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?” Plotz agreed.

“I do want you to know I am very serious about this apology. I don’t apologize very easily, but please, do let me know if there is anything I can do for you three,” He said, looking back at Yakko.

“Well, I do know the people of Acme Falls probably want their money back,” Yakko said.

“Consider it done. Once we get back, I’ll make sure to get started on returning all of their money I still have,” Plotz said, and Yakko nodded and the two returned to their silence, which relieved Yakko.

At least Plotz wasn’t trying to be all ‘buddy-buddy’ with him. Now that would’ve been awkward. However, Yakko really didn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts right now, so begrudgingly he started up another conversation.

“So... now that you won’t be tax collector, what do you think you’ll do?” Yakko asked. Plotz put back on his hat and thought a moment.

“I think I’d like to open a restaurant,” He said. Yakko blinked, expecting him to say more, but he didn’t.

“Alright,” Yakko said.

“What about you three?” Plotz asked in response. Yakko sighed.

“Get Dot her operation... go home... relax...” Yakko said, hugging his siblings a little closer as he looked out the windows into the mountains.

He still couldn’t believe how close he had gotten to losing them, and how he did almost nothing to prevent it. He just sat there, dumbfounded. He was always so useless like that...

“Are you alright?” Plotz asked, and Yakko noticed a tear had managed to escape his eye.

“S-sorry, yeah,” He said, quickly wiping it away. He was usually much better at keeping a brave face...

“It’s alright, you went through a lot today. You should allow yourself to rest,” Plotz advised. Yakko knew he wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t like that it was coming from him of all people.

“Yeah maybe,” He shrugged.

After that, they all rode in silence, and Yakko just hummed songs to himself to try and distract his thoughts. However, the songs made him tired and before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

He was woken up when the carriage jerked to a stop and they were back in the town square in Acme Falls. Yakko nudged his siblings awake while Ralph held the door open for the groggy Warner siblings.

“Where we goin’ Yak?” Dot asked, rubbing her eye, wincing in regret as she remembered that was the bruised side of her face.

“We’re going to stop by Dr. Scratchnsniff’s and give him the payment for your operation, which will hopefully be tomorrow,” Yakko said. “Then, we’re going to go home and we’re going to have a conversation about that little stunt you pulled,” Yakko looked down at Dot and she looked away from him in shame.

“Well... thanks for the ride,” Yakko said to Plotz.

“No problem,” Plotz tipped his hat at him. “You three have a safe walk home, alright?”

“We will, thanks,” Wakko replied. Plotz nodded, and Ralph closed the door and drove the carriage away.

Taking a deep breath of the cold winter air to revive himself, Yakko started walking to the doctor’s office, holding his siblings’ hands as they went.

The streets were full of happy people as they all unpacked from their journey past the mountains. A few congratulated Wakko and reminded him to spend his ha’pennies well before going back out and drinking more of whatever that elixir Dr. Scratchnsniff and Hello Nurse had made while on their trip (a story he’d have to ask for later).

Eventually, they made it to the doctor’s and knocked on the door, scowling at the closed sign.

“Excuse us, the sign says- oh, hello Warners,” Hello Nurse smiled down at them.

“Hi! We’re here to pay for Dot’s surgery,” Wakko said, showing her one of his ha’pennies.

“Well... the doctor said to keep out all business... but I suppose I can make an exception for the three of you,” She winked and let them in.

“Why’d he say that?” Wakko asked.

“Oh, we recently had a breakthrough with our elixir and the people are loving it,” She said, petting a cat that was on her desk as she sat down. “He’s trying to figure out how to make more before we run out and never find it again.”

“Faboo,” Wakko smiled. Hello Nurse chuckled and nodded.

“Indeed... so when do you think you’ll be ready for the surgery?” She asked Dot. Dot’s tail twitched nervously.

“We were hoping for tomorrow,” Yakko spoke for her. The nurse nodded.

“Well... I’ll have to talk to the doctor, but seeing as this is a dire need and you’ve waited plenty long enough, I’m sure he’ll agree,” She said confidently before writing something down on a piece of paper and leaving, leaving the Warners with nothing to do but sit and wait.

“Are... are you sure you wanna do it tomorrow?” Dot said.

“I’d ask for them to do it tonight, but it’s getting late enough as it is,” Yakko sighed, rubbing his face.

“Why?” Dot asked.

“Why?” Yakko couldn’t believe what he heard. “Because I want you to be safe and okay as soon as possible. I need to know you’re okay, actually okay, and that you aren’t going to die on me the moment I take my eyes off of you,” Yakko said, looking at her. Dot clutched her shawl tighter and looked away.

He was going to say something, but that was then the nurse reentered and Yakko had to fill out the paperwork, and they were forced to put a pin in that for later. With tired eyes, Yakko filled out the boring and long paperwork as best he could before giving it back to the nurse and handing her the ha’penny, and heading back to their home.

When they arrived, Yakko couldn’t help but relax. Despite everything, they had made it back alive.

However... he knew the upcoming conversation was going to get a bit messy. He sighed, taking in a deep breath.

“Meet me around the fireplace sibs, I’ll be there in a minute,” He instructed. Wakko and Dot didn’t argue, nodding and heading off.

Yakko leaned against the wall and grumbled, trying to collect his thoughts even though he was tired. However, that really wasn’t working so he decided he’d just try to be as understanding and a good listener as much as possible before going in. He figured trying was the best thing he could do.

Yakko went in.

“Look Dot, I’m going to be honest, I was really, really hurt by that little stunt you pulled,” Yakko said, sitting across from Wakko and Dot on a crate. “So... I just want to know... why?”

“I... I knew I was slowing you down. I was coughing, I was weak, a-and when the cannonball blew everything up I-i just thought that if I could just distract Salazar and everyone else then maybe you’d take the chance to go for the star,” Dot looked at the ground.

“But we wanted to reach it together Dot, we weren’t going to leave you behind,” Wakko said.

“I know, that was the problem,” Dot looked at him. “I-i wanted to be left behind, b-but you guys were so stubborn, s-so I knew I had to do something to help,” She said, glancing at Yakko.

“And what would you have done if your plan hadn’t worked, hm? What if Wakko didn’t realize you were alive before he made his wish and instead he had wished you were alive? Then what?” Yakko crossed his arms.

“I-i don’t know,” Dot sniffled, and Yakko realized she was crying.

“See, that’s the problem. You didn’t think any of it through. You didn’t think about what your death would mean to me and Wakko.”

“O-of course I did Yakko! I just knew th-that you needed to reach the star first,” Dot objected.

“Dot, if you died, none of that would’ve mattered anymore,” Yakko said, his voice cracking under emotional stress. Dot’s face froze, and a deafening silence entered the home.

“Dot... the whole reason we went after the Wishing Star was for you, so we could pay for your operation,” He explained softly.

“When you went limp in my arms... I just... I just fell apart...” Yakko practically whispered as tears streamed down his face that he hurriedly tried to wipe away, trying to bottle it all up.

“I already lost Mom and Dad... I couldn’t lose you too.”

“Y-yakko I-i’m sor-”

“A-and then when Wakko ran out there a-and I heard the cannon go off... I thought that was it. I sat there, like some idiot, and just... I just-” Yakko looked at both of his sibs and broke down, burying his head in his hands and sobbing. Wakko and Dot looked at each other before running over to their brother and hugging him as best they could.

“I-i promised her, I promised I could take c-care o-o-of you t-two a-and th-then y-you guys j-just- j-just-” Yakko’s whole body was shaking.

“Y-y-yakko I-I’m so sorry,” Dot was sobbing just as much as he was.

“M-me too, I-i n-n-never meant to scare you,” Wakko apologized too.

“A-and with the bridge, a-and y-your cough, a-and the guns, a-and the avalanche...” Yakko’s mind couldn’t stop thinking about all the times they’d nearly died today alone.

“I-I just ca-can’t lose you guys,” He sobbed, hugging them closer. “Y-you’re all I have left. Y-you guys are everything to me.”

Wakko and Dot could only nod, not daring to break their embrace and lacking the words to express how much he meant to them too. Dot sniffled and gave it a shot.

“I-i’m still h-here Yakko, a-and so is Wakko. W-we aren’t going anywhere,” Dot said between sobs mixed with a cough.

“Y-yeah! Me and Dot aren’t going anyw-where,” Wakko hiccuped. Yakko did his best to embrace those words; to hold them close and wrap himself within them. He focused on feeling his sibling’s arms around them and felt himself calm down more.

“I-i know,” He said, placing a hand on one of their arms. “I-i just... I was terrified...”

“I-I’m so sorry Yakko, I p-promise, I’ll never, ever try that again,” Dot said, squeezing him tighter.

“You better not,” Yakko said, half-jokingly, “Or else.”

“O-okay, okay I promise,” Dot chuckled.

Eventually, all three of the Warner siblings' tears ceased, and everyone felt much, much better, though it left them all exhausted. However, none of them wanted to split up, so they all decided to sleep in Dot’s bed for the night. After all, it was plenty big enough for all three of them.

Slowly and tiredly, they all climbed in and cuddled close against Yakko, both of their heads resting on his chest so they could hear his heartbeat.

Yakko wrapped his arms around both of his sibs, and closed his eyes, secure in the fact that they were safe, they were home, they were alive, they were together, and everything was okay.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

[poliel]

Midnight Snack

I felt bad about feeding Gramble in the game so I wrote this.

~

Staying up until midnight or beyond was pretty normal for Buddy but unusual for most others in their experience. So it was pretty surprising to see Gramble up and about at such a time. Whatever though, with how fucked their sleep cycle was they had no right to be judging anyone else for such a thing.

They slowed as they passed Gramble, expecting the usual greeting or perhaps a hypocritical attempt at a scolding for being out and about so late. … But instead Gramble mumbled something utterly unintelligible followed by an almost snore like sound. It was enough to make Buddy turn to face him in concern.

“Maybe you should go to…” They trailed off because Gramble was clearly not awake. His eyes were only half-open and twitching as he stumbled onward, holding his hands out almost as if he were a zombie. He mumbled some more as he meandered past Buddy.

Curious, Buddy pulled out their snaxscope to take a picture of Gramble before settling into following him. Perhaps he had some secret, either of the scandalous variety or buried treasure, that he’d betray by sleepwalking to it. Or maybe he’d wonder into his secret lover’s hut – like perhaps Wiggle’s – or… or maybe he was just going in a circle.

It wasn’t even a large circle, just out to the campfire circle and then back around to his barn. That was hardly interesting. Sitting around and watching him for a while longer only confirmed that it was indeed a circle. Almost like he was patrolling the area. … Perhaps that was exactly what he was doing since he seemed rather stressed about the possibility of everyone else in town trying to steal the bugsnax from his barn.

Maybe Buddy should wake him up. Was it okay to wake a sleep walker? Or did any of those tales children liked to pass around about how waking someone while they were sleep walking could make their heart stop, hold any weight? Probably not, right? So… waking him was probably the thing to do.

Buddy jogged up to him, putting a paw on his shoulder as they made their way around to stand in front of him. He stopped walking but didn’t wake up. He just stood there as if waiting for something. … It’d be super easy to pull a prank on him like this. If they’d had the right kind of marker, they’d have drawn something funny on his face right then and there. But alas, they only had standard pencils with them, no way those could every write on fur. So alas, as fun as it would be to mess with him a little, there was just no way to…

Well actually maybe there was. Didn’t sleep walkers also have a tendency to be sleep eaters too? Buddy had heard that somewhere, hadn’t they? But feeding Gramble a bugsnax would be pretty fucked up. … What would happen if they did though? Would Gramble know it had been them? Or would he assume perhaps that he did it himself while he was asleep? Or… who knows what else? Would still be fucked up though. But… if handed a bugsnax in this state, he probably wouldn’t even eat it anyway. Heck, with how much he loved them despite the fact they clearly didn’t love him back – they didn’t seem capable of having such an emotion – he would probably just hug and cuddle it like usual instead.

So Buddy pulled a spare kweeble out of their pack and handed it to Gramble, placing it in his paws. He mumbled a little but remained fast asleep. The kweeble lifted its spoon horn thing, pressing it against Gramble’s face and mouth, almost as if it wanted to be eaten. If so, it quickly got its wish as Gramble sniffed the air for a couple seconds before lifting it to his mouth and eating it whole. Wow, he must’ve been hungry, huh?

His foot transformed into a kiwi before Buddy could even think to pull out the Snaktivator. Though that might’ve woken him up so it was probably for the best anyway. So instead, holding in a nervous chuckle, they stepped back, letting Gramble continue on his meandering way, his gait now a bit different thanks to his kiwi foot. But… in a technical sense it wasn’t their fault, they’d just handed the snac to Gramble and he’d sleep eaten it all his own. So it’d be fine… probably. And they’d get to see what would happen now, how Gramble would react, that’d be interesting to say the least.

As Gramble wondered into the barn, breaking Buddy’s line of sight, they turned and tiptoed over to the donation box. To make up for their technically sort of not wrong-doing, they donated the rest of the bugsnax in their pack to the barn. That ought to make Gramble pretty happy, right? Enough to make up for the kiwi foot though? … Perhaps? Buddy turned and headed off out of town once more, they had to bring back food for the rest of the town and weren’t sleepy anyway.

***

Rare was he day Gramble woke feeling fully rested. As always part of him just wanted to lie here and try to get more sleep but with the sunlight shining in through the un-curtained window it was hard and he needed to get downstairs to take care of the little ones. They were depending on him, so out of bed it was.

He groaned as he sat up. Lifting his paws, he roughly rubbed the sides of his face, waking himself up a little bit more. He then reached over and grabbed his strabby hat off the night stand and pulled it on over his head as he slid off the bed.

He took two steps towards the stairs and paused. Something was wrong with his foot. Confused, he looked down at it. … A kiwi? Why was his foot a kiwi? That didn’t make any sense, how could his foot suddenly be a…

Bugsnax! He’d seen the others who’d eaten kweebles have such transformations. Which meant… “Charwee!”

He rushed towards the stairs. He’d eaten in his sleep before, not often since coming to the island since there wasn’t a set fridge to wonder to, but a few times for sure so this was nothing new. But what if last night he’d wondered to Charwee’s pen and… did the unthinkable?!

But no, as Gramble reached the bottom of the stairs and rushed over, even before he’d quite reached it, he could already see Charwee safe in his pin. “Oh, thank goodness you’re all right.” Bending over the fence, he reached one shaky paw over to pet Charwee’s fuzzy back, earning a cute little, “Kweeble, kweeble, kweeble.”

But even if it hadn’t been Charwee it was undeniable he’d eaten a kweeble. Which was not much better. So with a little sniffle, he straightened and set to work checking over the rest of the little ones.

It didn’t take long, the barn wasn’t exactly large. None seemed to be missing as far as he could tell. But… there were new snax. Buddy must’ve been by sometime last night with backpack full of donations. It was verylikely there’d once been a kweeble among them that Gramble had somehow ended up eating.

He took a deep breath to steady himself and hold back his growing nausea. Though perhaps he could still vomit up… No, that wouldn’t do any good. The kweeble was dead no matter what and throwing up probably wouldn’t undo the transformation. All it would do is make him even more miserable. So… he’d just have to deal with the fact that he’d done something terrible while asleep and do his best to make sure it never happened again.

***

It was noon by the time Buddy was wondering back into town with their backpack full of bugsnax and their head full of regrets. The lack of coffee made staying up for such long periods of time significantly harder. How had they ever survived without it? As soon as they were done doling out the spoils of their hunt, they were going to…

“Hey pal?”

Buddy paused, turning their head to look at Gramble, sticking his head out of the barn’s side door. He stepped all the way out as Buddy approached with a, “Yeah?” They kept their voice neutral, not even letting on that they were running on like four hours of sleep in the last two or so days.

“Could you help me with something?” he asked, shifting nervously. Up close, it was almost hard not to look at his kiwi foot and impossible to miss the look of dismay on his face. He clearly wasn’t mad though which indicated he had no clue about what Buddy had done last night.

“Uh, sure. What is it?” As if Buddy didn’t already know what this was about.

Gramble glanced around and took a deep breath before replying. “See, I’ve got a bad habit of walking around in my sleep. And, uh… looks like I’ve been eating in my sleep, too.” He held up his kiwi foot as if it were possible to miss. “So if you see me sleep walking, be sure to wake me up, okay?”

Yep, as expected. But even so Buddy had to fight to maintain a neutral expression and tone. “All right. I will make sure to do that if I ever catch you sleep walking.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. And uh, I appreciate how many snax you been donating to the barn lately too. It’s nice having a big family.”

“You’re welcome. I got stuff to go do now though so see you later.”

“Yeah, okay. See you.”

Buddy’s felt almost sick with guilt as they walked away. That had been a real fucked up thing to do. Interesting seeing how Gramble handled it, sure – though seeing his reaction to waking up and finding out would’ve been far better, missing that was Buddy’s own fault for not snooping around the barn this morning – but still a very bad thing that they shouldn’t have done. Too late now though so… that was just one more secret they were going to have to take to their grave.

[beetlebitchywitch]

Vampire!Scarabee (The Conglomerate Beetlejuice Mafia AU) x F!Reader: A Venomous Endeavor

I promised I would post this and it took me awhile but HI HELLO HERE IT IS! I’m legitimately really really proud of this fic, it’s 18 pages and I just love writing Scarabee from the bottom of my heart, so I really hope y’all enjoy this!

Imma tag a few people like last time because I’m a slut for validation!

@realmonsterboyhours @go-commander-kim @vicunaburger @gegehaddock @justsassysworld @young-erstill @humanransome-note

WARNING: SMUT AHEAD

The night was gray and damp as you hurried down the rain-slicked streets of New Orleans, the streetlights reflecting golden orbs in the asphalt marred by the steady drizzle. Those who knew well enough to stay off these streets past dusk had long since turned in for the night, yet you could still hear the raucous laughter of late night merriment even blocks away from Bourbon Street. Unfortunately, a night of libations was not in your foreseeable future, and the further your steps took you away from the party center of the city, the more anxious you grew. Here, the streets were dark and winding, lit only with dim lamplight that flickered ominously as you passed, your coat clutched tightly across your chest as the rain continued to fall, soaking you nearly to the bone. Here, you knew, was where the magic that had long gone dormant in other parts of the city still thrived, electrifying the streets with an undercurrent of dark energy that practically swallowed you up, enticing you further down your path towards your sordid destination. It felt like ages before you finally reached a tall, foreboding mansion on the corner of two cobblestone streets with flickering candles lit in the windows, dancing as if to invite you closer. Above the door hung a simple wooden sign, with only a large, green beetle etched into the grain, glinting in the light of the street lamp as you approached. Looking down at the business card clutched tightly in your hand, you saw an identical beetle, right down to its metallic sheen. This was it. 

You paused for a moment, taking a few deep breaths to buck up your courage before lifting your hand to the door and rapping sharply, pulling away as if it had burned you the second you’d finished. Oh God, this was a terrible idea, you should’ve turned back ages ago, you couldn’t do this-

The door swung open. In the entryway was an incredibly tall man, broad and barrel-chested, staring down at you with a curious expression. You almost had to crane your head up just to look him in the eye, and God, those eyes, one green and one purple, both glowing dangerously in the darkness of the night. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away, nor could you seem to move your lips enough to form a proper sentence. You must’ve looked like a fish freshly plucked from the sea and floundering on the dock, and the longer you struggled to string together your words, the more shame rushed hotly into the pit of your belly. The man quirked an eyebrow, seemingly struggling not to smirk down at you. 

“Can I be of service to you, madame?” he asked formally, his deep voice floating richly through the air to reach you and somehow shocking you out of your reverie. You cleared your throat, steadying yourself enough to firmly meet his gaze.

“I’m looking for the home of Scarabee Shoggoth,” you said, handing the man the business card you’d been desperately clutching between your fingers. He took it gingerly, holding it up to examine it in the light. His eyes flickered back to you, traveling down to your feet and then back up your body as if examining you. 

“And what business do you have with my...employer?” he asked, his distrust evident in his tone. You tried not to let this deter you, instead choosing to steel your expression and hold your ground. 

“I’d like to tell Mr. Shoggoth that himself, thank you,” you said firmly, trying not to let the strangeness of his eyes dissolve your nerve as you held firm, even if your fingers still trembled clutching at the edges of your coat. “Could you show me to him, please?” 

Again, he paused, watching you carefully as he pocketed the business card. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to have found it, because with a heavy sigh, he stepped aside, beckoning you inside the mansion. You ducked in thankfully, the ends of your hair dripping onto the gorgeously polished hardwood no matter how quickly you tried to wring it out into your sleeve. Still trying to dry yourself off, you didn’t realize how close the servant had gotten to you until his hands suddenly fell on top of yours, pulling a soft gasp from your lips. They were gentle despite their size, and he made quick work of ridding you of your coat, hanging it on the coat rack just by the door. You were still damp, but drier without your outer layer, so you gave him a thankful nod, which he returned before guiding you slowly down the main hall. The house was quiet, with no other servants to be seen as you were led into a large living room with plush armchairs surrounding a roaring fireplace, likely for entertaining guests. There, in the chair closest to the fire, sat a man dressed in a fine suit jacket of golden paisley and a sweater of deep, rich purple. His eyes immediately met yours as you entered the room along with the servant- one green and one purple. Funny… You shook the thought away as the man rose to greet you, a somewhat amused smile gracing his lips. 

“Well, it’s quite a late hour for visitors,” he mused, swirling a glass of amber liquid in his hand as he looked to his servant. “Thank you, Wasp, that will be all.” 

Wasp. An interesting name, you thought. With a quick nod to both you and the man you now knew to be Scarabee Shoggoth, he was gone, his heavy footsteps fading away into nothing as he disappeared down the hall. Now, left alone with the man you’d walked nearly half an hour in the rain to see, your nervousness returned with a vengeance, swirling angrily in the pit of your stomach. He seemed to notice your sudden change in demeanor and chuckled beneath his breath, opening his arms welcomingly to you. 

“Ain’t no reason to tremble, cher,” he crooned, his accent sweetening his voice like honey as it lilted through the air. “Except for the rain, I suppose. Come, ma petite, take my seat by the fire. You looked chilled to the bone.” 

Despite your nervousness, you smiled gratefully, moving past him to slip into his plush seat only a few feet from the fireplace. You’d smelled his cologne as you passed, rich and spicy, and did your best not to shudder, choosing to focus on the wonderful way the heat seeped into your bones, already working to dry off your dampened clothes and hair. Scarabee moved to take the seat across from you, gazing at you curiously with those eyes that were so similar to Wasp’s. Perhaps they were brothers? But he had called him his employer…

“Your mind is workin’ rather fast, darlin’,” he quipped, interrupting your thoughts that indeed had been racing. He took a slow sip of his drink, not even pulling a face as the liquid likely burned on the way down. “Tell me. What business brings you to my home at such an hour?” 

God, you honestly hadn’t expected to get this far. Part of you suspected you’d be turned away at the door, but instead, you were seated comfortably by the fire, expected to explain yourself to the man that, at this point, was likely your only hope. 

“Well…” you began quietly, rubbing the pad of your thumb anxiously across the back of your other hands. “I’ll be frank, Mr. Shoggoth. I’m in need of some...otherworldly supplies, and I heard from some trusted sources that you were the man to see.”

Any fear you had of offending him melted away as he grinned almost wickedly, his strange eyes crinkling under the weight of his excited smile. Clearly, you’d heard correctly. 

“And if I am?” he asked smoothly, downing the rest of his drink before setting the glass firmly on a side table. “What sort of,” he chuckled beneath his breath, “otherworldly supplies could you possibly need, cher?” 

You took a deep breath. 

“...Vampire venom.” 

The room fell completely silent other than the sound of wood crackling from the heat of the fire. His eyes, almost comically wide, scanned you the same way Wasp’s had, trying to somehow glean more information simply from the sight of you. You shrunk beneath the weight of his gaze, feeling your cheeks flush with shame now that you’d finally admitted your need. You and he both knew what vampire venom was used for. 

“...Well I’ll be,” he said nearly breathlessly, running his fingers through his tousled hair. “I certainly wasn’t expectin’ this tonight.”

“If it’s too much to ask, Mr. Shoggoth, I can go!”

“Scarabee, please, ma cher,” he said insistently, wiping the look of shock off his face. “Ain’t nothin’ too much about it, not at all. I was simply surprised, is all. Goodness, what use could a young lady such as yourself have for vampire venom?” 

You knew, of course. Your need for the venom was utterly selfish, so selfish that you felt ashamed to even attempt to admit it, but you knew Mr. Sho-Scarabee would not simply hand over a vial of venom without knowledge of its intended use. After all, the effects of it were known to be rather powerful- the harm that could come to his reputation if it was misused could be irreversible. With a heavy sigh, you met his gaze, your anxious hands finally still in your lap. 

“There’s a man,” you began softly. “We’re betrothed, you see. And I know it’s rather improper to...know him before we’re wed, but I needed to know what he would be like before I was bound to him forever. The first time we tried...I couldn’t. Nothing he did could please me, nothing at all, and I think there might be something wrong with me, so-”

“So you suspect the venom could help...move things along, as it were,” he interjected, nodding with understanding. “I see your dilemma, darl’. Rest assured, I have what you seek, and plenty of it…” His lips suddenly quirked up in a small smirk. “For a price, of course.”

Ah, and there it was. The price. You knew that in dealing with a man such as this, there was no telling what he might ask of you in exchange for what you needed. You’d stashed as much money as you could in your purse, not concerned in the slightest with how much he’d ask of you, but...something about the look in his eye told you that money was not what he was after. 

“And...what price would that be, Scarabee?” you finally asked, his name feeling warm and pleasant on your lips despite the fear coursing through your veins. He simply smiled, rising from his chair to take hold of a gilded cane, taking slow steps with it in his hands until he reached the fireplace, gazing into the golden flames. 

“Ain’t nothin’ to be too worried about, cher,” he said softly, his eyes flitting over to yours. “Just a little experiment, is all.” 

Experiment? You were expecting your engagement ring, your dog, perhaps your firstborn child, but an experiment? Given the nature of his activities, the prospect both intrigued and alarmed you. What use could he possibly have for you as a test subject? Seeing your apprehension, he chuckled, leaning against the wall with one arm. 

“Does that frighten you, petite?” he asked curiously, a soft grin playing on his lips. “Ain’t no reason to worry. I simply wish to satisfy a sudden curiosity of mine. It will only take a minute, and you won’t even have to leave that chair...I must admit, I am intrigued by your apparent inability to experience arousal. If you don’t mind, I’d simply like to give you a once over.” 

He watched with muted glee as you mulled over his offer. You were legitimately concerned that there was something wrong with you, and if it would only take a minute...well, possibly getting an answer to your problem seemed too good to be true, with a short exam a comparably small price to pay for something that could help you a great deal. You looked up to meet his gaze, your stomach tightening when you saw him staring down at you intently, awaiting your answer with one eyebrow quirked. With a shaky sigh, you nodded your consent, trying not to shiver when you saw the white hot excitement glowing in his eyes.

“Good choice, cher,” he hummed, setting his cane aside and approaching you slowly, carefully. Your hands clutched absentmindedly at the plush arms of the chair, trying to keep yourself from shying away from him as he knelt down in front of you, your eyes now at equal level. There was something intense in those strange eyes, something that made you barely keep from shivering as they dragged over your skin, reddened from the heat of the fire and the blush quickly crawling up from your chest. His smile was encouraging, but tinged with a hint of wickedness, one hand reaching out to cup your cheek with a trepidatious touch. “This alright?”

Your breath coming a bit faster now, you nodded, gulping as his thumb rubbed a soothing circle into your cheek. His hands were surprisingly cold, especially given the way your skin had heated from the roaring fire, and it genuinely felt rather soothing, given the circumstances. You relaxed only slightly in the chair, but it still caught his attention, pulling a low chuckle from deep within his chest.

“That’s it, ma cherie,” he crooned, letting his hands drag from his cheek down over your jaw and to your neck, feeling your pulse point thrumming against your skin as your heart began to beat even faster. “Just relax for me now.” 

You did your best to obey him, sinking firmly into the armchair as his other hand joined the first, trailing delicately down your bicep and down toward your wrist while rubbing his thumb across the front of your throat. His touch was featherlight and cold, scraping delicately over your skin as he simply explored, lingering at whatever patch of skin would cause you to shiver when touched. Christ, what was he doing?

“Somethin’ the matter, darlin’?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. When you met his gaze, you shivered at its intensity, feeling as if it would set you alight from the inside out if his touch didn’t beat him there first. You didn’t know what he was playing at...but you wanted to.

“N-No,” you stammered unconvincingly, struggling not to press more firmly into his hands. He chuckled lowly, leaning in close to press a slow, lingering kiss to your cheek. Despite the coolness of his lips, your skin felt like it was on fire.

“Good,” he whispered, letting his lips linger there to feel you tremble beneath them. His first hand remained clasped loosely around your throat while the other dropped to your thigh and, oh God, trailed firmly down to your knee, his thumb curling around to press into your inner thigh as he dragged his hand firmly down your leg. You could feel it so much easier now that there was nothing between you and him but a set of nylon stockings, and you couldn’t stop yourself from shivering again, the sensation sending heat pooling in your core as he chuckled again, his breath rushing hotly across your skin. Oh God, this was wrong, this was so wrong, you were engaged for Christ’s sake, but...when he pressed yet another long, sensual kiss to your cheek, you didn’t care. You didn’t care one bit, not when his hand was dragging back up your inner thigh, his nails scraping deliciously against the nylon as the tips of his fingers just barely, barely grazed the edge of your panties. Any concerns you had for propriety flew out the window at that glorious, barely-there touch, because no man had ever made you feel this way, and the more he touched you, the more you craved to be touched. You could barely even feel your engagement ring weighing on your finger when he trailed his hand back up with a wide, dangerous grin, the tips of his fingers pausing for a moment before pressing firmly against your panties. He pulled back just a bit to watch in delight as you finally let out a low, hushed moan, the scent of your arousal filling his nose and telling him all he needed to know. 

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, chaton,” he murmured playfully, his eyes alight with glee at the sight of you. “But there’s nothing wrong with you.”

You paused, your mind so heavily fogged with these new sensations that you barely registered what he was trying to tell you. There was nothing wrong with you...oh. There was nothing wrong with you. Then that meant-

“But...the venom…” you said, cutting off with a whimper when his fingers pressed little circles through your panties, grinning with delight as you struggled not to let your eyes slide shut.

“The venom cannot change who you are attracted to,” he explained softly, his other hand curling more intently around your throat. “It can only intensify what is already there. But, if you’re still curious…”

He moved away just slightly, enough for you to be able to gaze into his eyes. He let his mouth open just slightly, holding your gaze to gauge your every reaction as slowly, two identical, razor sharp fangs distended, glinting in the golden light of the fire. Your eyes widened, your heart pounding away so violently in your chest that he could practically hear the blood rushing through you. His grip around your throat tightened ever so slightly, holding you firmly and forcing you to take in what he truly was. 

“...Then how would you like a taste from the source?”

You couldn’t help yourself. You shuddered violently in his arms, your eyes finally sliding shut with a whimper. The thought of those fangs sinking into your skin frightened you, and that fear somehow intensified your arousal, the two intermingling in your body until they were one and the same. His fingers were still against you, yet you were ready to beg until you were hoarse for them to take you apart. And if all of this could be wrought from you with only a few simple touches, you could hardly imagine how you’d feel with his venom coursing through your veins, your blood staining his lips scarlet… 

“Got somethin’ to say, darl’?” he asked, the sound of his voice dragging over your skin like velvet, soothing and warm and everything you didn’t know you’d needed until this very moment. You had half a mind to tear your ring from your finger if this was the kind of pleasure a man could bring you without even taking your clothes off...and oh, taking your clothes off…

“Scarabee,” you murmured, fighting the fog in your mind to open your eyes, meeting his with desperation. “Please.” 

And with that, you let your head lean to the side, willingly baring the side of your neck to him. 

In less than a second, he was pulling you out of the chair and into his lap, nosing sensuously up the column of your neck and inhaling deeply. The way your heart was pounding, he could smell your blood rushing just below the surface of your skin, and God did it hunger him. He pressed a slow, almost apologetic kiss to your pulse point before baring his fangs and piercing your neck, groaning gutturally at the hot rush of blood across his tongue. You cried out sharply, the pain present for only a brief moment before you were overwhelmed with a delicious heat, spreading from where his fangs were sunk firmly into your neck all the way down to your fingertips and toes. You shuddered as he fed from you, pumping more venom into your system with every second, the pleasant heat beginning to pool in your center where his fingers had begun rubbing circles again. You bucked into his hand, whimpering as the pleasure was intensified with every drop of venom entering your system, growing nearly unbearable by the time he pulled off, licking over your wound with a hushed groan. When he pulled away, you shuddered at the sight of your blood on his lips, a single drop running towards his chin before he licked it away, leaving only a dull red stain in its wake. You couldn’t help it, your hands were clutching at his suit jacket and forcing it off of him, throwing it to the side before grabbing at his sweater and pulling him in for a kiss. The coppery taste made your mind swim, but you really didn’t mind, especially when the tip of his fang just barely pricked your tongue as you swept it languidly over his lower lip. He deepened the kiss with a groan, his hands wrapping firmly around your waist as your tongues met and tangled deliciously. You pulled away, your breath coming in short pants as you ran your fingers up into his hair, intoxicated by the way his strange eyes bored into you, staring down at your body as if he couldn’t stand another second of it being hidden from his gaze.

“How do you want this?” he panted, one hand coming up to cup your cheek. “God, you fucking tasted delicious, cher…” He trailed off with a heady groan, burying his face in your neck again to lick up the last remnants of your blood where it seeped from your wound. 

“Scarabee,” you whimpered, the barely-there pain only intensifying the pleasure that was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. “I...I don’t care, however you want, anything, just please!” 

Your desperate pleas broke down any self control he had left in Scarabee, and with a growl, he had you on your back, laid out on furs by the fireplace that was starting to diminish behind you. You fumbled wildly with your clothing, struggling to force down your stocking when with a snap of his fingers, you were bare, your skin glowing in the firelight with his equally bare body hovering over you, the paleness of his skin only now striking you now that you knew what he was. You expected to be self-conscious given your sudden nudity, but the pleasure aching in your core was only strengthening, so you were quick to spread your legs around him, the scent of your arousal reaching his nose and making his eyes roll back into his skull. 

“Ain’t you just a pretty sight, mon amour,” he crooned, leaning down to begin kissing from the bite in your neck to down between your breasts, his fangs scraping deliciously across your skin. “I’d bet my finest moonshine that you’ll be even prettier when we’re done.” 

God, you didn’t want to be done, you’d never want to be done, not when his mouth continued its hot trail of kisses down to between your legs, where you pussy lay bare and wanting. He groaned softly at the sight, unable to tear his eyes away as his fingers began to explore, trailing to your entrance to gather your wetness on his fingertip. He grinned wickedly at the way you shuddered from such a simple touch, the venom clearly working its magic on you given how wet you already were for him. Holding your gaze, he brought his fingers to his lips, cleaning your slick off of them and moaning at the sweet taste. No matter where he fed from you, you were delicious. Hungry for more, he parted your legs further and ducked his head, dragging the flat of his tongue up the length of your pussy and groaning brokenly at the taste. You threw your head back with a cry, the coolness of his tongue feeling absolutely incredible against your superheated core. 

“By the time I’m done with you,” he snarled, quickly pressing two fingers into your waiting entrance and marveling at the tightness as he slid them inside, “You’re gonna be tossin’ that ring in the fireplace.” 

You let out a wild cry at the mere thought, the ring suddenly weighing heavily on your finger as he drove his fingers into your pussy, angling them just right while he stretched you out, readying you for the cock hanging heavily between his legs. His fingers were thick, the stretch paired with the way his fingertips drove perfectly into your G spot sending stars dancing in your eyes. You would’ve been embarrassed by how wet you were for him were it not for how fucking gone you were, shivering under the intensity of his gaze as he watched you come undone simply from his fingers. 

“Bet that sorry excuse for a man can’t make you feel like this, can he?” he snarled, curling his fingers just right and revelling in your broken moans. “Come on, darlin’, tell me how this feels.” 

“Ungh, it-oh God-it feels so good,” you cried out, nearly screaming when his mouth descended once more to latch onto your clit, sucking greedily at the sensitive nub while he slipped a third finger inside you. You suspected you’d need it, given his size. “Fu-hngh-uck, never felt like this befo-oh!” You whined at the feeling of him slowly removing his fingers, his mouth leaving your clit to suck them clean. He pulled off, his smoldering gaze turning to you as he crawled back up your body, both hands reaching under your thighs to wrap them around his waist, his cock now lined up perfectly with your aching pussy. 

“Mmm…” he hummed, cupping your cheek lovingly before moving to hook his thumb into your mouth, pulling it open and pressing it down against your tongue. “Let me hear you now, cher.” And with those strange eyes watching you intently, he pressed inside you, a hot bolt of pleasure rushing up your spine as his cock stretched you more than his fingers ever could. You whimpered against his thumb, the vibrations making him grin wickedly as he bottomed out in a single thrust, his fangs bared as he bit down on his lower lip at the feeling of your tight, wet heat surrounding him. He paused, watching you for any sign of discomfort while you breathed slowly, adjusting to an entirely unfamiliar stretch. The venom helped a great deal, considering this was your first time, so within a minute, you felt comfortable enough to gaze up at him from beneath your lashes and wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking sensually with a clear invitation shimmering in your eyes. Scarabee’s eyes widened at the feeling before his mouth spread around growled laugh, his lips replacing his hand as he captured yours in a desperate kiss. He distracted you with his kiss while slowly pulling out, waiting until he was nearly about to slip out before pushing back in with a rough trust, groaning brokenly at the feeling of your pussy clenching tightly around him. He picked up a rough, fast pace, hilting with each thrust and using his grip on your hips to pull you down onto him. Resting his forehead on yours, his breath puffed out against your lips as he panted, little groans intermingling with the heavy breaths as he lost himself in the feeling of you. 

“Scara-ah!” you cried out, letting out little whimpers against his lips as his cock dragged so fucking perfectly inside you, his girth stretching you fucking deliciously while the head of his cock angled up to drive into your G spot with each desperate thrust. You combed your fingers through his hair, pressing little kisses to his lips between every broken whimper. “O-Oh God, please…” 

“That’s it, darl’,” he crooned, holding tightly to you as he took you harder, intoxicated by the sound of his cock thrusting into your nearly dripping pussy. “Beg for me, scream for me…”

And scream you would. The harder he took you, the louder you were, until he was thrusting into you with every ounce of strength he had and you had your head thrown back, your mouth wide open around loud cries that echoed throughout the room. The venom coursing through you was amplifying every thrust of his cock inside you, every press of his lips to your overheated skin, every drag of his fingertips across your hips as he took you. It was perfect, it was all too much, and you were quickly barreling towards a peak you’d yet to experience. God, you needed it, you needed him-

“Scarabee, please,” you whimpered, clutching tightly at his hair as the drag of his cock threatened to send you over the edge. “Oh God, I- I think I’m gonna cum, I need to, pleasepleaseplease let me cum!” 

Your begging words only succeeded in sending Scarabee into a tailspin, one hand reaching down to circle your clit with a desperate snarl. 

“Cum,” he commanded roughly, and oh, just that little extra stimulation had you clenching around him and screaming out your climax, clinging to him with all your might as the pleasure raced through you violently, your entire body trembling in his arms. The feeling of you fucking milking him with your own orgasm had him growling out his own, not being able to keep himself from sinking his fangs into the other side of your neck, letting the rush of blood over his lips only intensify his pleasure. You cried out at the brief moment of pain before, oh God, the new venom was elongating your orgasm, sending waves of pleasure through you so strongly that you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks, the intensity only beginning to die down after a solid minute and a half of you shaking like a leaf in Bee’s arms, pumped so full of his cum and his venom that you thought you might burst. When it finally dissipated, you slumped down to the floor, panting harshly and letting out a little wince as he pulled his softening cock from your pussy, a rush of cum quickly following and rolling down the cleft of your ass and to the floor. Bee settled down next of you, propped up on one elbow as he watched you come down from the most intense, and only, orgasm you’d ever had. 

“Are we feelin’ better now, cher?” he asked cheekily, stroking a hand through your sweat dampened hair. You could only nod, eyes fixed solely on the ceiling above as you struggled to come back into your own head. Christ, he’d practically torn you to pieces. It was only when you’d fully come back down to Earth that you felt the suddenly heavy weight of your ring on your finger. Glancing down at it as it sparkled in the dim firelight, you knew what you had to do. You looked Bee in the eye as you slid it from your finger, propping yourself up on one elbow to watch as you tossed it into the flames, watching it darken with ash and feeling no remorse. When you turned back to Scarabee, his eyes were widened, his mouth hanging open to reveal those crimson-stained fangs.

“Ma cherie, when I said that, I didn’t entirely mean it,” he said in hushed awe. You flopped back down to the floor, still panting and starting to feel the gentle soreness between your legs. You sighed, meeting his gaze regrettably. 

“He’s been fooling around with my cousin for a month now,” you admitted, your eyes scrunching shut at the thought. “I...I thought if I could manage to be with him, he’d-” 

“He’d want you,” he finished, a sudden look of understanding crossing his face. “And that’s why you needed the venom...goodness, I can’t say I know what that feels like, but…” His eyes traveled over the ring smoldering in the flames. “...I suppose that doesn’t bother you now, does it?” 

“Not in the slightest,” you said breathily, shifting a bit and wincing at the somewhat pleasant soreness in your body. “I...It’s a bit late. And I walked nearly half an hour to get here.” 

“Well,” Scarabee said, almost shy as he cleared his throat. “I have a guest room that I could have prepared for you...unless, of course, you’d like to join me in my bed.” 

You let a soft smile grace your lips as you nodded, nuzzling into his chest. The thought of sharing a nice warm bed with Scarabee was suddenly the only thing you could possibly want, and he simply chuckled, holding you close and enjoying the warmth of your post-sex body. 

“I usually don’t sleep at night, but...for you, cher, I suppose I could make the exception...cher?” 

When you didn’t answer, he glanced down at you, smiling softly at the sight of you, eyes slid shut and nuzzling unconsciously into him as sleep had clearly taken you. Careful not to wake you, he slipped his arms under your body, whisking you off to his luxurious bedroom for the night.

You could talk about the smoldering remains of your ring in the morning. 

[theredconversegirl]

hi! i’m the anon that asked about blurbs and one shots!! i just thought of a blurb where sakura is bitten by a poisonous bug or something where the venom is slow moving (kinda like sasori’s where the victim dies within three days) but there are serious symptoms like major fatigue, graphic hallucinations and excruciating pain and while sakura is enduring those symptoms all sasuke can do is comfort her until they find a cure?? idk KSKSK im not talented enough to write this but ANGST

Hi there nonny! :) 

Thanks for sending me this prompt! I always liked the idea of Sakura or Sasuke taking care of each other in a situation like this. 

My first attempt to write this was terrible, so I took my time with the second. Also, I’m having computer issues and my writing time is limited because of that 😓

This is my first attempt of writing angst, so please forgive me if it’s not good enough 😬. I had to play a bit with what you suggested, since I think Sasuke wouldn’t wait three days to try to save her, he’d probably teleport to Tsunade asap! 😂

Hope you like it anyway! 💕

Title: “Bane” Rate: T Words: 3854 Warnings: Shinobi AU where Sasuke never left and has both arms.

📌 Read also here: Fanfiction | ao3

——————————————————————————

bane | noun { 1. a cause of great distress or annoyance. 2. something, especially poison, which can cause death.

—————————————————————————— 

This was supposed to be an easy mission.

A simple, easy, piece of cake mission – like any diplomatic mission is these days.

As the enemies surround them (not slightly concerned with stealth at all), Sasuke decides, with amusement glinting in his eyes, that nothing is really simple or easy when it comes to Team Seven – even though they are only two this time.

His hand unsheathes his kusanagi with a swift motion, and though it could help them, Sasuke doesn't bother to activate his Sharingan. He hears rather than sees the confidence his teammate has on them when Sakura turns her back to him and tugs at her combat gloves, the leather stretching around her fingers.

Despite the years apart, they both work surprisingly well together. The nearly impeccable teamwork flows like a river does towards the sea; merciless and inevitable.

There's only a moment of hesitancy where hundreds of sharp senbons rain towards him, and although he can probably move in time, Sakura uses her momentum after a kick to push him to the opposite direction.

After that, punches to the ground are synced with swipes of his sword. Right hooks with roundhouse kicks. And when it ends, hardly five minutes later, they are both panting, sharing complacent smiles.

Sasuke feels a warming feeling swirling inside him, a mix of post-battle excitement, the remnants of the adrenaline in his veins, and something else he can't really name. The light buzz accompanies him as he ties all the nukenins and sends a hawk to the Kazekage; they are still in Suna's territory after all.

The warmth dissipates, draining him instantly, when he sees Sakura swaying from foot to foot, a grimace twisting her dainty features.

"What's going on?"

She replies but whatever the answer is, it comes out as an intelligible slur. She tries again and the effort is futile. Her hands flicker green for a second, but the chakra flow cuts off, and that alarms Sasuke.

He might be wrong (and he hopes he is), but Sasuke thinks he knows what's happening to her. He has seen this reaction before – a few times in the Snake's lab, and once on the road – and every time, it was associated with the exposure of poisonous substances. It starts mostly with the inebriated state Sakura is in.

Quickly, Sasuke steps in her personal space and scans her face, neck, her bare arms, turning her around and moving her limbs like she's a ragdoll. He's looking for the point of contact, where most of the substance should still be. He doesn't find anything other than debris though, consequence of her powerful punches.

He exhales slowly, trying to concentrate on their next steps. If Sakura is indeed poisoned, he needs to act quickly. Konoha is about two days away by foot. He doesn't have enough chakra for a teleport. Naruto is Kami-knows-where. And they are still in the middle of the freaking desert.

As he runs the possibilities through his mind, Sasuke glances down, still holding her arm, and sees the moment where she struggles to move her red dress. Unconsciously, he extends his hand to help her, bunching up one side of the dress above her waist. He holds the fabric there, trying to avoid her eyes as she mumbles something close to a thank you.

There's an angry scratch above her hip, not larger than five inches, which is quickly swelling. Sakura tries to close the broken skin with her chakra, but it's useless; it flickers a few times feebly and then fades.

Whatever poison coated the weapon responsible for this wound, Sasuke thinks, it reacts slowly, with the intention to catch the opponent off guard, no doubt. It's eating her chakra cells, blocking its paths one by one.

He confirms that as he checks her with his Sharingan; her reserves are nearly empty, and he can distinctively see a few spots whirling inside of Sakura's chakra system. Sasuke tells her that, but the medic-nin is clearly struggling to process the information.

His time with Orochimaru taught him a lot about poisons – and he's even immune to a few thanks to that – but this one doesn't match the ones he personally knows. If it's anything like the one Sakura herself found the cure for all those years ago here in Suna, there's nothing much he can do; his limited knowledge in medical ninjutsu warrants that.

With the night approaching, and the risk of sandstorms, Sasuke decides to find shelter and wait in a safe place where he can replenish enough chakra to take them back home – by summon or whichever option he can use first.

He only has time to secure her arm around his neck when Sakura slumps against him. Cautiously, he guides them through the endless dunes until he sees the entrance of a small cave they spotted earlier that day.

Her smaller body is tucked in his arms by the time they get inside, her skin cold to the touch. Sasuke shrugs off his travel cloak and lays Sakura on top of it. He works quickly after that, making a fire to keep them warm, and returning to her side.

Disoriented, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, Sakura mumbles words every now and then. She whines and pants, and Sasuke knows the poison is spreading. He reaches for her medical pouch and unclasps it from her belt. Inside there are herbs, and syringes, first aid items, and other things Sasuke has no clue how to use.

In the light the small fire provides, Sasuke notices the changes in her; the ashen color of her face, the perspiration coating her skin, and her usually rosy lips turning blue.

A strangled cry forces him to move again, and he curses under his breath as he continues rummaging her things. She's dying and the realization bothers him more than he cares to admit; Sasuke knows he's on borrowed time.

Stupid, foolish woman, the words echoes in his head as he unrolls their travel blankets over her shivering body.

Before she's covered, Sasuke checks her pulse, brows furrowing in deep concern when he finds only a faint hint of her heartbeat. It's thready at best, and he needs to do something.

Anything.

He hears his name, he thinks, her voice is strained and the word broken on her lips, but the "kun" gives it away. He knows she's calling him.

His hand moves on its own, touching her cheek first, then her forehead, checking her temperature. Her skin is clammy and feverish, and he shouldn't be surprised with the fast development of her symptoms, but he still is.

"I'm here," he rasps, hopeful that she'll open her bright green eyes for him.

Sakura hums, and curls to his side, seeking his warmth even though she's warm enough for the both of them. She's crying, he notices; tracks of fresh tears run from one cheek down her neck.

He goes back to the pile of things he gathered from their backpacks and finds a piece of clean fabric. He folds the cloth and damps it with some water. When the cool compress is placed on her temple, Sakura sighs in relief, but her pained expression doesn't ease his mind. Not one bit.

Sasuke kneels beside her, pressing the cloth against her burning skin. His fingers brush her pink locks away, and he huffs, almost amused, when she blindly follows his touch. The Uchiha knows it's no use, but he calls her anyway, firm and louder this time. She doesn't respond.

He can't help but glare at her, because how dare she? She should have known better; she's scolded so many people about the dangers of battle wounds and enemies' weapons, him included.

The intensity of his gaze loses its strength when he considers everything again. Sakura is the last person that deserves such a fate; a painful, restless death. A death without a goodbye. A death that's not really hers.

He wishes he could take her place, and a little voice in his mind tells him that's how it was supposed to be. The Uchiha frowns, but it only lasts for a short moment as realization hits him; he's almost certain that she earned that scratch in that one moment he hesitated. That one moment where she pushed him out of the way. It was supposed to be him laying on this cold floor, withering away little by little. Not her.

"Idiot," he mutters, "why did you do that?"

"Sasu—"

Sakura's breathing becomes rattled, pain twisting her features, and for a brief moment he feels hope. If she can feel pain, it means she can still fight, right?

He abandons the cold compress on her forehead to move the covers aside. In the haste of getting her warm, he completely forgot about her wound. In a deliberate way, Sasuke removes her red dress, exposing the infected area. Blisters form close to the scratch, the flesh angry and swollen around the wound.

Sasuke snatches the first aid kit he found earlier in her pouch and prepares the ointment to clean the cut. He applies a little pressure as he works, covering the entire area with herbs once it looks sanitary enough. Sakura thrashes during the entire process, and the only way to avoid more damage and ensure that he can finish his work without hurting her more, is to straddle her small body, pinning her legs underneath him.

With his Sharingan, he keeps track of her progress, careful to not waste too much chakra. Now that he's taking a better look at it, he notices a concentration of the dark substance still close to the opened gash.

He doesn't even stop to think it through. Sasuke grabs a kunai and deepens the cut, pressing just right to push the poison out. She screams in response, shouting profanities, and jerking wildly in pain the entire time. But he can't stop now, even if the last thing he wants is to see her suffering, he can't stop; it's for her own good.

He snatches her wrists with one hand and presses her stomach with the other, his tomoes spinning and watching attentively as he removes as much of the malicious substance as he can. The dark, putrid liquid starts to ooze out of the wound, and Sasuke uses his knee to pin her to her side in an angle that helps the extraction process.

The moment that the last drop is removed, Sakura's chakra flares and she goes limp under him. He watches, Sharingan still taking in every detail, as her body starts to slowly give out and her nearly lifeless weight sinks to the ground.

No, no, no. She's supposed to get better...

When his gaze settles on her face, Sasuke notices how her breathing is shallow, a stark difference from a minute ago. Her features are slowly relaxing as if the pain is dissipating with each breath she takes.

Is this how it ends?

He's surprised when the thought crosses his mind. Sasuke's not one that contemplates the future; he's always thought he'd die young, after killing his brother. He's never expected to turn twenty. And he has never thought about rekindling the bonds he broke all those years ago when he left.

But here he is, a reinstated and pardoned Konoha shinobi, a war hero, a teammate, a friend, a brother. All things he wasn't two years ago. And now, before he even had the chance to really stop and think about his future, he can't.

This is not how we're supposed to end, he thinks, a hand running through his dark locks as he looks down at her with a myriad of emotions he's never associated with his name when looking at Sakura; pain, regret, remorse, sorrow, and pure, unadulterated sadness.

He releases her tiny wrists, sagging against her, defeated. The tiny hope he had gained leaves him as he continues to sink in his own storm, feeling as if he's being submerged under water, deprived of his air.

That obscure corner of his mind, the one that's full of self-loathing and doubt, whispers, "but did you even begin?''

On a whim, or maybe it's the bubbling rage inside of him, Sasuke growls like a wounded animal, releasing a burst of his chakra around them. His chest heaves and his shoulders shake, but he still feels numb. Empty.

He hears a whimper, even though his ears ring with the echo of his own anger. A choked gasp escapes him when he looks down.

It seems that the pulse of chakra he released has been absorbed by Sakura's body – somehow. His sharp eyes can clearly see her jugular pulsing, her eyes moving frantically underneath her lids, lashes fluttering against her lightly rosy cheeks.

There's… there is still a fighting chance.

As fast as he can, Sasuke scans his surroundings, noting every single resource available to him. He eliminates anything he can't use and lists possible steps; everything happens in a span of thirty seconds.

He considers summoning Garuda to take them home, but the amount of chakra is not enough. He considers Aoda – but that would require even more chakra – or any other smaller snake that could assist. But the solution, the best-case scenario, comes from a stupid idea that only Naruto could come up with. And maybe it's worth the shot, because all Naruto's ideas work in some way.

As blood runs from Sakura's wound towards the floor, a red path painting her fair skin, Sasuke transfers most of his chakra to her, calculating exactly how much he'll need to succeed. Then, he grabs her hands with his, swipes her thumb over her own blood, and guides her through the signs of Kuchiyose no Jutsu.

He pushes the last of his chakra to her hands, forcing the jutsu to drain the previously infused amount when he says the words. The smoke takes him by surprise (deep down he didn't have much faith in this plan), and when he sees a slime creature not bigger than his hand, he sighs in relief.

The tiny slug is very polite and right to the point. It pleases him greatly when she quickly understands the situation and gets to work. Katsuyu guides him, asking him to confirm where the rest of the venom is located, and with his bloodline once more he scans Sakura's body, pointing out the chakra path that is blocked and tainted by the poison.

The summon tells him he did a great job considering the limited resources and chakra available to him. Although she's being very helpful and sharing more than necessary, narrating her every move and findings, the slug's little voice trembles when she says that if the substance had reached Sakura's heart, things would have been different.

And suddenly, the severity of this predicament downs on him (again), because he has seen with his own eyes how the dark swirl is stuck a few inches short of that destination. His own heart constricts painfully, galloping against his ribcage as a life without pink flashes in the front of his mind.

"Sasuke-san?" Katsuyu calls, "ready?"

The question breaks him out of his stupor, and he nods quickly, pushing aside the plummeting feeling in order to get to more important matters. Sakura.

Together, they isolate the venom and the slug coerces it out of Sakura's main chakra path, pushing it towards the opened wound. It doesn't take long, and as the last drops leave Sakura's body, he notices how the color starts to return to her pale face.

"It's done," the slug says as she slides away from Sakura, taking the poison with her. "Sakura-sama is still weak and will need to break through the fever on her own."

"What do you mean?"

"My time here is ending, and you both need your rest. Her body will need to recover on its own until her chakra reserves are full again."

"I see. Thank you"

"No, thank you, Uchiha-san. Please take care of her!"

"Aa."

The summon disappears not long after, and Sasuke knows he'll be eternally grateful for its help.

For the first time in two hours, he allows himself to relax. Sasuke slouches backwards, leaning on the cave wall, head tipped up. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs completely, and it's so invigorating that makes him think how a simple action that he does everyday – all the time – can feel so different, so good.

He reaches for the medical supplies and gets back to work. With a clinical eye, he carefully sterilizes her wound, cleans her skin, and then bandages it. He checks her temperature, tilts her head to give her some water, and repeats the routine like clockwork.

The silence, which usually is a comfort to the last Uchiha, is now a nuisance. It makes his mind overwork, inflicting painful thoughts, and aggravating his already guilty consciousness. The wind whispers angrily outside, though he hears it loud and clear.

She almost died.

In his place.

She's suffering.

Because of him.

Again.

A small whimper escapes her, and Sasuke thinks with mild exasperation, that's becoming one of his new favorite sounds. Maybe it comes second, losing only to her sickeningly sweet laughter.

She whispers and mumbles and Sasuke knows it's the remnants of the poison talking. And, between nonsense filled dreams, curses and random fits of rage, Sakura cries – a lot. It's not really a surprise when he stops to think about it, but it's not a pleasant sight, even though he knows it means she's getting better, naturally recovering.

She cries about the Dobe not realizing the Hyuuga girl is madly in love with him since Kami knows when, and how it pains her to see him being a fool every day, completely oblivious.

She cries about Tsunade going on a vacation and not inviting her.

She cries about her parents. Her mother's incessant inquiries about weddings and grand-babies, and her daddy's poor sense of humor that she secretly loves.

She cries about Ino. How the blonde keeps forgetting to return her things, and insists on pushing Sakura to date, because… she shouldn't wait forever.

He doesn't really know how to react to the last one. Sasuke is in a phase where emotions and feelings are still confusing, and there's also this new part of him that constantly fights between what's right versus what he wants. And as much as he wants her, he knows he's not right for her. It wouldn't be the right decision.

As the hallucinations go back and forth, there are more broken words than complete thoughts, but at a certain moment he knows he's there with her. The next words are proof enough and nobody can say otherwise.

"Please don't— don't go Sasu—hn."

Her voice is broken and exhausted, loaded with so much pain that he can almost touch it.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'm right here." He says resolutely, because he's done running away.

Sasuke takes her hand on his, comforting her like she did once. He's not sure Sakura can hear him, and he squeezes her hand – a little harder than necessary – waiting for her to squeeze back.

She doesn't.

He watches as she struggles through painful memories, and as the masochist he is, Sasuke relives them along with her. Some words are welcome, and even missed, but others are venom and sting more than expected. He doesn't miss the irony of all, wondering if fate is messing with him – if such a thing exists, that is.

The torture session, as he calls it, lasts no longer than a few hours. Sakura's fever breaks sometime between her memories of the war and the events after. Her natural color is returning fully and even the tip of her nose is pink.

As her senses start to work again, Sakura tries to raise herself into a sitting position, and she huffs, frustrated, when she can't. Sasuke soothes her confusion by drawing little circles on her back.

"Why?" He asks, his voice lower than a whisper.

Although Sasuke's tried to contain his anger, frustration – or whatever this is – he can feel it coming off in waves as he finally sees her eyes again; as glassy and green as they were that morning. There was a moment, not long ago, he thought he wouldn't see them again.

When she doesn't reply, he tells her how careless she was. How they were supposed to work together as a team and not jump to save each other's lives like when they were kids. He scolds her like she's a petulant child that disobeyed her parent's orders and because of that she'd hurt herself.

Sakura doesn't say a word or look at him. She moves away with great effort, leaning on the wall of the cave beside him. When she's settled, she looks up at him. And this time, her eyes are blazing with anger.

She tilts her chin up in defiance and says, tone flat, "because I'm a medic."

They both scowl, hearing the statement as the lie it is; it's not only because of that.

"You are an idiot, that's what you are."

His words, his voice grows heated and Sasuke is not sure if they are directed to her or himself. And as expected, Sakura gives back as much as she gets, matching his tone and glare.

"Oh, excuse me for trying to save my teammate's life," she tells him like what she did was a normal occurrence. "I didn't know it was an idiotic idea."

"Tch. You shouldn't have done that, Sakura." He reproaches, nearly losing his strength when he continues, "I could—" have lost you.

"You don't tell me what to do, Uchiha."

"Tell me why you did that," he probes, despite the way she crosses her arms and throws him a menace look.

"I don't know!" Sakura yells, "my body just moved, okay?!"

A deafening silence follows then. The tension crackles explosively as they lock their eyes in a familiar stare-down. The weight and meaning of her statement are not lost on him.

He thinks of his day, how it was supposed to be just an easy return home. He thinks of how scared he was from the moment she fell until she opened her eyes again. He thinks of how infuriating this woman is. How she drives him crazy, pushing him to situations where he cannot do a thing.

Her chest heavens, but Sasuke knows it has nothing to do with the poison, not anymore. When he moves closer, lips parting to answer her, it's not like either of them expected.

He crushes his lips to hers, moving them effortlessly, showing her the severity of her actions and what they— she means to him.

It's messy, and desperate, and belated, but still full of emotions and meaning. Their first kiss tells her he won't risk losing her again. Maybe it's not right, but he knows it is what they both want.

And this is how they finally begin.

[seraphicwiing]

Video Analysis #5- CRISIS CORE (The Truth/’You Will Rot’) 

Alright folks, the wait is over. As promised, I finally have written up my analysis of this very pivotal point in Sephiroth’s tragic timeline. After all of the posts I have made leading up to this, we have learnt of his compassion, his friendship, his loyalty and his martial prowess. Tonight, we’re going to delve into the start of his madness. Buckle your seatbelts peeps and grab some popcorn, this is gonna be a long one. The clip is 3 minutes long, hopefully the analysis I write doesn’t ramble on for too long. Sit back, relax and enjoy the read! (Also testing out a new format for these types of posts with more structured topics and headings <3)

Context

Before we talk about the scene linked below, we must first talk about the events leading up to Genesis’ being an utter douchebag to his little brother and pulling him further into the madness that would lead to his downfall. Sephiroth and Zack arrive at the Nibelheim reactor and quickly discover that not all is as it seems. The pods containing experiments from past JENOVA projects are revealed to the two SOLDIERS and it begins to make Sephiroth question his entire existence. He had been deprived of the truth his whole life, and even now at the cusp of it all his mind is breaking because he can’t tell what is right and what is wrong anymore. Even with Zack trying to help him, the information thrusted at him is all too much for him to bare. 

ShinRa had no idea how fragile Sephiroth’s mental state actually was, nor did they consider the fact that maybe sending Sephiroth to Nibelheim may not be such a good idea considering what was hidden there. But that’s a story for another time, let’s get this started!

‘Am I... A human being?’

Here we begin to see the slow breaking of the once proud hero. The way he says those words, the tone of which he conveys his shock and utter sadness at the fact that the life given to him is most likely nothing more than a fruitless lie. This is such a stark contrast to the Sephiroth we all knew and loved when speaking to his friends in past analysis videos. It hurts a lot more for me since I absolutely adore this character and just hearing him slowly lose his mind really hits me in the gut. After this we see Genesis confirm albeit in the most cruel, heartless and condescending way possible that Sephiroth was an experiment and while Sephiroth really didn’t need to believe a word Genesis said, his psyche had already been broken. All this information being thrown at him is such a huge tidal wave of emotion, it’s no wonder Sephiroth felt overwhelmed. 

(“No such luck. You are a monster.” Okay small tangent for a second: Genesis in this scene is doing himself no favours at all. He wants Sephiroth’s help so that he can live right? Why tell him that he’s a monster and droll on and on about how his life was a lie and that his mother wasn’t actually a real human being but an otherworldly cosmic entity AKA a Monster? AND THEN PROCEED TO ASK HIM FOR HELP THINKING THAT HE’LL JUST WILLINGLY ACCEPT? As I told a good friend of mine: Genesis is such an idiot. I AM SORRY GENESIS RPERS OKAY, I LOVE HIS CHARACTER BUT THE WAY HE ACTS IN THIS SCENE IS SO FUCKING DUMB)

Genesis calls Sephiroth the ‘Greatest Monster Created by the Jenova Project’. And this is 100% truth, we’ve all seen just how strong he is, how special Sephiroth is. This is Genesis trying to turn him onto his side by appealing to the monster and detaching him from his human self. But this was a completely wrong way to do it, especially with a fragile mind like Sephiroth’s. He wanted to be human but he knew he somehow wasn’t in a way, he was always detached. And while he always opened up to people in a manner of which was incredibly kind hearted, he always felt like his brith wasn’t normal. Now finding out the truth, he DOES NOT want to be a monster, he DOES NOT want to be considered compartively to the beasts that were in the pods and with Genesis’ continual insistence that Sephiroth is nothing more than a monster, the small rope that was keeping his mind in check was slowly breaking under the large weight of the truth. 

‘Poor little Sephiroth. You’ve never actually met your mother.” 

Here is where things get super bad for our soon to be psychopath. Genesis throws out all of his cards onto the field, revealing the truth about Sephiroth’s existence and also revealing the truth about his mother: JENOVA. Genesis was right, Sephiroth had no idea who his mother was other than the supposed truths that ShinRa told him. I like to believe that when Sephiroth was growing up, they gave him a forged picture of what his mother looked like AKA JENOVA and from that day onwards, Sephiroth has always conjured that image in his head, that same picture is on his desk back at Shinra HQ and he cherishes it. It makes it hurt so much more watching the scene with this in mind as Genesis further digs into Sephiroth’s heart by mentioning that she was nothing more than a monster and whatever he clung onto was a giant fat lie. 

Notice how Sephiroth turns away from Genesis, the natural smile is gone. His stance, his posture has gone. He’s almost lurching forward, his confident strides naught but small steps forward. His eyes are wide and close at times, he is trying so hard to process everything but it’s all coming too fast for him to handle This form of coercion employed by Genesis may have worked on Angeal but Sephiroth? Hell no. It’s also quite amusing that Genesis knocks Sephiroth out of his confused state by calling him by his full title. SOLDIER: 1ST CLASS, SEPHIROTH. He says it similarly to how a general would do a roll call of his cadets before training, and this is literally conveying Genesis’ belief that he is in full control of Sephiroth, he holds the cards, he holds the power over his little brother this time. He believes that Sephiroth will give him what he wants. Little did he know how wrong he would be however. 

‘What do you want of me?’ 

Genesis’ motivations are finally made clear and we learn what makes Sephiroth so special when it comes to the JENOVA Project. We finally learn of the project where Angeal and Genesis originated from as well as the the one where Sephiroth was from. I’ll let Genesis say why in the video becaue he’ll explain it better than I can, I’ll end up butchering it if I tried. Basically what he wants is Sephiroth to share his cells so that he can stop his degradation. He’s slowly dying a painful death and Sephiroth can stop that because his cells have been perfected. Sephiroth has remained quiet this entire time, pondering the truth while Genesis flaps his gums about being saved, he has already made the decision in his head of what he wants to do. 

‘The Truth I have sought all my life. You will R O T.’ 

And here we finally reach the end. Sephiroth with no remorde left in his heart, his mind deadset on now learning the truth of his birth, denies and what I believe he also does is disown Genesis as a friend and brother. All the memories they shared, all the times they recited and enacted ‘Loveless’ together with Angeal, all of that is now dust in the wind. His expression, the deadpan stare that he gives Genesis is a lot more similar to the evil Sephiroth scowl we all know and love. The way in which he speaks, gone is the relatively light hearted, dry humoured tone of the hero that everyone looked up too when trying to become a soldier. No, he speaks with rage and grief in his tongue. He is legitimately torn asunder after the revalation. Whether it be lie or truth that came from Genesis, he’s done with his brother. Their friendhip is over. And at last, he delivers probably the most scathing, delicious and satisfying burns in Final Fantasy. Not only does he reject Genesis, he literally tells him to ROT. To DECAY! He tells Genesis in the most fitting way to just ‘GO DIE’. ‘THEN PERISH’. It’s one of my favourite insults in Final Fantasy ever. It’s nice to see the sarcastic wit hadn’t died with Sephiroth’s kind hearted nature. 

The scene ends with Sephiroth heading to ShinRa Manor to find further information of his existence while Genesis is left at the reactor. The closing words being: ‘ I see, perfect monter indeed...’. Genesis was actually surprised when Sephiroth denied him, it was quite a priceless reaction if I do say so myself.

I guess this is a fitting way to conclude with a very salty Genesis and a very angy Sephiroth. I want to thank you all for sticking with it this far I know this was a lot longer than normal but there was so much information to digest. I hope I didn’t waffle or state anything that was super obvious from the clip. This’ll probably be the last one for a while as this definitely took a lot of steam out of me. But yes, I’m glad so many of you enjoy this, if you have any scene requests that you'd want to see me have a shot at IM me <3

[hyunnie-bunches]

Bloodsuckers V

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Genre: Supernatural AU, fluff?

Pairing: Vampire!Baekhyun x Vampire!Reader

Word Count: 1840

A/N: Fun fact, I’ve never actually been to an IKEA before so I had to do some research before writing this. (Spoiler alert: It didn’t help. Except for making me smile like an idiot.)

——————————————————————————————————

Baekhyun decides to find a car for the morning. He claims it's for added speed, but I know both of us can get there just as fast on our own feet as any vehicle. But I know he’s worried, and this is nothing more than an extra precaution. An added layer of protection if things go south. I try not to let my imagination go wild with all the ways it could happen.

It gets significantly easier once we’re on our way. Baekhyun’s worry is a tangible presence in the small quarters of the Camry but it becomes unnoticeable in the presence of all that is around me. This is my first time in proper daylight outside of our backyard and I’m struck again with how utterly beautiful the world is. The varying shades of green of trees as they whoosh by, the almost-tangible softness of the cotton candy clouds that hang overhead, the smell of asphalt and gasoline and so so many people - it’s absolutely overwhelming.

By the time Baekhyun pulls up in the parking lot, I feel almost dizzy with sensory overload. Baekhyun takes a deep sigh and turns to face me, mouth open to no doubt repeat his be-careful speech again. But amusement dances across his face as he takes me in.

“Are you…okay?”

I can see myself reflected in the warm brown of his irises. My eyes are hooded and there is a lopsided grin on my face. If I didn’t look out of it enough already, the soft whisper of “Yeah” was enough to confirm my current state of mind.

A light chuckle escapes Baekhyun and I feel my own smile widen in response. He shakes his head indulgently, and his voice still has traces of humor as he says, “Pull yourself together, will you? We have a bed to shop for, and I’d rather not have people think I’m walking around with a druggie.”

I blink a few times as I process his words, getting distracted by the soft pink of his lips, the low timbre of his voice. But finally, his words sink in, and I am able to push through the haze and remind myself of the task at hand.

Bed. Shopping. IKEA.

Right.

Baekhyun is already out of the car, and I rush to catch up with him, careful not be so fast as to draw attention. He pauses outside the doors and glances towards me, all traces of the earlier amusement gone from his face. He doesn’t say anything before he looks away, but I feel his hand slip into mine. Warmth spreads through the entirety of my body, radiating out of where his smooth skin touches mine. For a moment, I am even more disoriented than before. Then he squeezes my hand gently, a silent reminder that he was here, that we were in this together, and it is enough to pull me back and ground me to reality. I give him a small squeeze of my own before pushing the doors open and walking in.

——————————————————————————————————

Scary as it seemed at first, our trip soon turned into what any IKEA visit should look like. We spent too long looking at things we did not need, trying to figure out how certain items worked, and “testing out” furniture we had no plans of buying. We even managed to pick a nice queen-sized bed for the room. Baekhyun insisted on getting separate beds, for one each of us, but the room was small enough that there was no way it could hold two beds.

“Besides,” I reasoned, “it’s not like you need to hold me in there anymore. I’m here now…” I give a little twirl. “I can control myself.”

I tried not to look as smug as I felt when he gave in to me.

Standing next to the cashier as Baekhyun paid and gave the instructions for delivery was the hardest part. But this was the whole point of coming here, so I held firm and bore the constant itching in my gums, the ringing of pounding blood in my ears, the metallic scent that filled my airway. Before I knew it, Baekhyun was squeezing my hand again, dragging me away.

It was done.

“You did great.” Baekhyun complimented as we walked out of the store.

“Told you I would.” The slight tremor in my voice at the magnitude of control I had been exerting undermined the smug act, but Baekhyun gave me an indulgent eye roll anyway.

“Let’s hope you’re as good as piecing together furniture, or we may end up sleeping on the floor regardless of this purchase.”

“Well, I’ll have you know-“ I felt rather than saw Baekhyun’s sudden shift. “What it is?” My voice was low.

His eyes dart across the parking lot, and he utters a single word. 

“Hunters.”

——————————————————————————————————

Like a switch flipping, my whole body tenses, a weapon honed and ready to be used. I stop, trying to survey my surroundings as Baekhyun had, but he continues to drag me along insistently. 

“Just keep walking.” He hisses under his breath. “We don’t want to make them notice us.”

Reluctantly, I follow him, eyes and ears open to all signs of motion. I notice them almost immediately. Three guys, all in different locations, trying to block our route to the car without making it seem obvious. We could ditch the car, but that would confirm any suspicions they had of us being supernatural.

We are almost at the car when the first man reaches us.

“Excuse me?” His gruff voice ring out and Baekhyun and I turn in unison. A glance at Baekhyun confirms that his face is schooled in an expression of polite curiosity and I can only hope my expression matches his.

“You dropped this.” The man continues, extending a fisted hand forward.  A moment of silence passes, and I wonder if I’m imagining the tension lingering in the air. Baekhyun extends his own hand, subtly shielding my body with his. The man drops whatever he is holding in his hand, and Baekhyun closes his own hand over the object before I can see what it is.

“Thanks.” His smile is forced, and his body rigid as he turns his back to the man.

I watch as disbelief and relief war on the man’s face, before realizing that I, too, should be going to sit in the car.

My steps are slow and shaky as I head towards the passenger side, ears peeled for the movement of the man’s feet. A heartbeat passes. Then another. Finally, I hear the soft taps of his boots on the gravel. My shoulder practically sags the close call. But the relief is short-lived.

The man has barely started walking when the smell hits me. It was unmistakable. The scent of charred flesh. Realization hits both of us and the hunter at the same time. My head whips to look up at Baekhyun across the top of the car, confirming my suspicions that it indeed was his hand that was burning from whatever object had been placed in it courtesy of the hunter. Pure iron no doubt for it to already be smelling so bad. Our eyes meet for a split second, and I barely have time to read the silent command in his before my neck is being grabbed, my body shoved against the metal of the car.

No survivors.

Gathering as much strength as I can in the small area between the car and the huge weight behind me, I elbow the man holding me captive. My inhuman strength is enough for him to lose his grip on my throat, and I whip my body around as fast as I can. He’s already coming towards me again, fist raised to slam into my face directly. It’s a move I’ve spent years deflecting, and my body reacts before my mind even has time to process what’s happening. I duck out of his range of motion, hands moving to grab his arm and twist him around. But I miss entirely. My hands clench around thin air as his fist slams into the car, arm inches from where my empty hands are clasped.

I don’t have time to focus on the momentary surprise when the man reels back again for another shot. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see another woman behind him, pointing a gun at me.

Deciding that my best bet was to keep my man as close to me as possible to prevent his partner from firing a shot, I lunge towards his throat, attempting to get him into a chokehold. Except I’m still off. My body curls around his entirely, going much too far beyond his neck and onto empty open air. But at least my brain is faster now, I’ve realized I’m in the wrong spot before he’s even had a chance to turn. Focusing to make my actions slower than before, I reach for his neck, digging my fangs into the soft flesh. I’m still too full to drink any blood, but that doesn’t stop me from ripping his throat out. Dark, rich blood is still spilling from his throat when the gun goes off.

My ears pick up the sound first, followed closely by my nose smelling gunpowder. Then the pain hits. My mind clouds with agony as my shoulder flares in pain, bursts of it radiating throughout my entire body. I fall to my knees, realizing, belatedly, that I had exposed my entire back to the shooter. I think I’m screaming but there is a roaring in my ears through which I cannot hear anything else. Warm wetness trickles down my back and I realize it is my own blood. My nails tears at the clothing on my chest, reaching, reaching for the piece of metal lodged in my body.

I don’t feel the hands that touch my back. Or maybe I would’ve panicked more. Tried to get out from under them. Tried to protect myself. The first thing I feel is the fingers digging into the wound, ripping the skin that is already trying to seal over the bullet. The pain numbs when the same fingers wrap around the piece of metal, but I still feel the trail of fire that the iron traces as it weaves it way out of my body.

Residual pain still lingers through my body, but slowly, so slowly, my hearing returns. And I hear Baekhyun panting behind me. My knees are still too weak for me to attempt getting up but I still twist around to look at him. He has a frazzled look about him, but the fact that his gaze is still on me is enough to tell me the danger is over.

The body of the woman at his feet only acts as confirmation.

“Can you get up?” His voice is hoarse.

I don’t think so, but I can’t help give him a small nod.

“Good.” He clenches his jaw. “We need to leave. Now.”

[padfootagain]

The King And You

Part 1 : The Lamppost

I know I know I know… I'm starting another series when I have so many things to write already, but in my defence, it's 100% @madamrogers's fault (love you honey). She gave me the idea, so this whole series is for her!

There is nothing be warned about yet. No worries :)

I hope you like it!!

Word Count: 2389

Capsian didn't like to admit it but by now he had no choice but to face the truth.

He was lost.

Not in the sense that he didn’t know what to do (although he didn't know what to do to get unlost) but he was physically lost.

He had been walking through the woods for several hours now, and what had started as a mere walk now turned into a nightmare. The sun was slowly sinking through the bluish sky, but the canopy above his head was too thick for him to see in which direction the star was falling. So instead he kept on walking.

At first, the idea of getting lost in these woods didn’t even occur to him. After all, he merely wanted to have a moment alone to clear his head. He had travelled across Narnia for political purposes, but days locked in this castle and talking bills and payments and taxes had brought him on the edge of moral exhaustion. It was more than time for him to take a moment to gather back his strengths. And to achieve that, what better than a walk alone in the wild woods?

He sneaked out of the castle, as it was obvious that his guards would have been requested to accompany him otherwise. He wrapped a cloak around his frame, put on his most comfortable leather boots, picked up a bag that he filled with a gourde, bread, biscuits and cheese, and before the sun was up he escaped the fortress unnoticed.

He had left a note on his bed so no one would worry about him (not too much at least) and he expected to be back in the middle of the afternoon.

But now, he could guess that the middle afternoon was since long passed, and he still didn’t have a clue on how to find his way back.

It was entirely his fault. And even if he had no one to put the blame onto as he was alone anyway, he was more than ready to admit that all of this was his fault. Walking while lost in thought for a long while, he had not paid attention to his surroundings until hunger tore him out of his own mind. But it was already way too late.

And now there he was, wandering through the woods and merely trying to keep on advancing in a straight line to avoid getting even more lost than he already was.

Was that even possible to get even more lost though?

Under his brown leather boots the skeleton leaves cracked and twigs snapped. There were birds singing in the distance, but they remained far away, and Caspian didn't even know if they would help him if he found them. In these parts, there were wild animals roaming that lacked this Narnian traits of speech. The thought was not reassuring, but he pushed it aside.

Above his head, despite the amount of fallen leaves that covered the muddy ground as Autumn brought its chilly air and vivid hues, the canopy was too thick for him to see anything. The light passed through the yellow, orange and red leaves that had not fallen down yet, but there was no way to see the sky. He had thought about climbing up one of these trees to get a view of the forest and spot the castle, but the trees were high and he couldn't reach the first branches. If he had taken his sword with him, he was not equipped to climb a tree. And again, in these wild parts of Narnia, he would have never dared to plant a knife through the bark of a tree. After all, he had seen some come alive before…

He reckoned that by merely walking he would eventually find someone who could help him. These parts may have been wild, they were still inhabited. He merely needed to be lucky. Only, for now, he didn't seem to be lucky at all…

After long hours walking, his legs were starting to long for rest. His feet were turning numb. But he ignored the feeling, and didn't slow down his fast pace. He hoped to find shelter before the night.

He thought about what could happen in the Castle. The King had disappeared for several hours… agitation there must be to its highest peak.

But he pushed the thought away, annoyed. It was this constant gathering that he was trying to escape of right now. Having a moment alone was a real challenge. If he understood the reasons behind the situation, he was tired of it. And for once, he just needed to be on his own. Even if he was lost in the woods, he didn't regret his gesture, he felt much more peaceful than when he had left the castle.

The dense canopy started to clear out, and Caspian quickened the pace in search of a clearing or at least some part of the forest where he could see the position of the sun.

Pines added green shades among the leaves reddened by autumn. And eventually, Caspian figured out the position of the burning star…

… he had been going in the wrong direction, without a doubt.

"Brilliant…" he muttered under his breath.

He was about to turn around when something caught his eyes. From the distance, he couldn't distinguish what it was, but he could definitely see that the colour was wrong. Whatever this object was, instead of the brown shades of the trees, it was black as night.

He walked further on, curiosity getting the best of him.

And when he finally came close enough to recognise what it was that he had been walking towards, he froze, his heart stopping in his chest.

It was the lamppost.

Caspian had never seen anything like it. But from the drawings and sculptures and myths and stories he had seen and heard, especially coming from his professor when he was a child, he knew exactly what it was and what it meant.

It was the border of Narnia.

What lied beyond? He had no idea. He had reached the edge of his world.

Would he take a step into the void?

He bit his bottom lip in hesitation, before walking further, closely enough to the lamppost for him to touch it. His fingertips ran across the cool metal, and a shudder shook his whole frame. The wind suddenly blew harder and harder, growing in strength until it was roaring through the branches and the foliage. The skeletons leaves flew with the wind until they gathered at his feet, blocked by his boots. His dark hair floated all around his face, and he didn't dare to move, merely looking around him.

And in the blink of an eye, the wind was gone again, and the forest was peaceful once more.

Caspian struggled to swallow. Was it magic? It felt like it, at least.

He should have turned around and walked back to the castle. But instead, he kept staring at the trees ahead of him, a flame fuelled by hesitation burning in his heart.

The trees ahead didn't look any different to the trees behind him, after all…

He took a step beyond the lamppost and froze, almost expecting for the earth under his feet to crumble and for the ground to swallow him whole. But nothing happened. He let go of the lamppost and took another step. And again, nothing happened.

He let out a shaky breath, the lump in his throat slowly unravelling, and he walked further on in slow, careful steps.

The trees started to get closer and closer to each other all over again, until he couldn't see the sky again. After a few minutes, he was struggling to find a way through the trunks. He stopped for a second, and realized that he was out of breath.

Should he turn around? Wasn't all of this madness?

His dark brown eyes searched through the trunks ahead, but there was barely any light anymore under such a canopy. He looked up, but could only distinguish the lowest branches of the pines that surrounded him.

Would he go ahead or go back?

He shook his head, silently cursing himself before he resumed his walk.

He tripped on a root at one point, letting out a string of curses as pain shot through his foot, and he almost fell. But as he threw his hands before himself to catch whatever would come into his grasp, his fingers hit wood.

Nothing surprising in a forest, of course, but this wood was smooth. It lacked the roughness of the bark of a tree. He ran his hand across the surface and when he stepped closer, stumbling a little, he discovered… a door.

Or was it a wall? He wasn't sure. He suddenly realized that there were no trees so close to this surface. He searched for anything unusual, a defect, a detail… but his fingers met only a perfectly smooth surface. He couldn't see any solution but to try to push on the surface as if it were a door.

And he fell head first onto the floor as the wall disappeared…

Or actually, it hadn't disappeared. Indeed, his first instinct had been right, it was a door that he had fallen against. He cursed again, stroking his painful knee, and then, once more, he froze. Under him, the fallen leaves had disappeared for a wooden floor. He looked around him, and his eyes grew round when he found himself in the middle of a room… With two wardrobes against the wall behind him and a large bed next to him. He was in a bedroom…

How did he end up in a bedroom?

He finally noticed on his right the light coming in by a window, and he looked outside.

His eyes grew round in shock, his lips parting, his brain freezing.

There were… towers… he guessed they were towers, piercing the sky. He had never seen anything so big in his life. Streets with the ground covered with some kind of dark pavement and a lot of lampposts, although they looked a little different to the one he had just found. There were people in the street, wearing strange clothes. A few children were playing with a ball in the middle of the street. And there were these strange cubic things… he didn't know what they were, but they formed a long line on the side of the street. He saw someone opening a door on the side of it and climb inside. Was it some kind of carriage? But he couldn't see any horse anywhere…

He jumped as he heard some noise coming from behind him and he spun around quickly, his reflex still sharp despite his shock. He heard a soft voice humming out of tune, and he frowned hard.

But then his brain started to make proper thoughts again, and he figured out that if he was in a bedroom, it meant that he was in someone's home…

"Oh, by Aslan's name…"

He thought for a moment to hide, but gave up on the idea as soon as it crossed his mind. He looked around him, but the only way he could have come from was through this wardrobe. So he opened it and was ready to step back into Narnia and run away…

… only the wardrobe was filled with clothes this time.

Shelves filled with T-shirts and trousers and shirts and coats hanging on the side, and when he passed his fingers across the back of the furniture and tried to push his way through again, it was rock-solid, and wouldn't move.

"Oh, no…"

Panic rose through his entire being, making his fingers shake and his heart quicken to a threatening pace.

But no matter how hard he pushed, he couldn't go through.

He was stuck…

The humming voice grew closer, and he hurried to close the wardrobe. He looked by the window, but there was no way he could climb down. He was so high… as high as he would be at the top of his highest tower…

He turned around as the door opened and you stepped in the room.

A purple towel was wrapped around your chest, barely covering the upper half of your thighs. Another blue one was wrapped around your head to dry your hair. You had something in your hand that Caspian couldn’t identify, but it was your hairdryer. You had forgotten your T-shirt in your bedroom, and were coming back to pick it up before drying your hair, and for some reason, you hadn't put the hairdryer back down when you realized your mistake and had stepped out of the bathroom. You didn't spot Caspian right away and took a couple of steps in the room before you would notice the brown boots before you. Your eyes climbed up to discover brown trousers, a purplish red shirt, a dark cloak and finally… a man's face.

The realization that a stranger was standing in your bedroom while you were walking out of your shower all wrapped in a mere towel suddenly seemed to reach your brain, and you shouted.

Caspian was breathless. His brain had frozen at the sigh of you, out of fear at first but then… his eyes had fallen on your bare shoulders, and then your legs and he couldn't stop himself from staring. This day had been too strange for him to act normally.

When you shouted though, he jumped, his cheeks turning crimson as he blinked and looked at your face again. He extended a calming hand.

"No, I'm not going to hurt you," he spoke softly, and considering how much he was panicking, he congratulated himself for wearing such a soothing tone. "Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you."

But you kept on shouting, and when you made a movement to leave the room, he walked forward to stop you.

"No, please, I don't mean you any harm…"

He didn't see the hairdryer crossing the air as you swung your arm toward him, and you hit him hard on the temple.

He dropped to the floor in a thud noise and the last thing he saw were your wet feet and ankles before all went dark.

***********************

Taglist: @geeksareunique @giggleberts @sad-orange-thoughts @aylinnmasow  @benbarnes-world @ladyblablabla @drinix @joelynnp @wearetalkingtoyou @mxrihollxnd @rockintensse @cutie-bug @purplocity @ponycake27 @notkeppeki @jbluevelvet @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @daynight-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @presstocontinue @madamrogers @ilmiopiccolounivers0

[pastelwitchling]

Malex one-shot Angst/Fluff Prompt List #9

2. “I’m worried about you.”

***

               Calm down, Michael warned himself, his blood pumping in his ears. Calm down, calm down, calm down!

               It was hard for him to think straight, his thoughts consumed with images of Kyle Valenti, of all people, with his arm around Alex’s shoulders, as if it was the most casual thing in the world, as if he was used to touching him.

               Michael clenched one fist around his now empty beer bottle, his other angrily shoving at whatever was near, and in his fit of rage, sent it flying across the road. A small part of him thought he should be more cautious not to cause a scene and get himself exposed, but the bigger, louder part was telling him it didn’t matter. That the bar behind him went on as it usually did, the music playing just as loudly, the other drunken morons chatting and laughing away as always, oblivious to the aliens living amongst them every day. That in that bar there was Alex, his Alex, with Kyle Valenti wrapped around him.

               It shouldn’t have bothered him so much, he knew. He had women over every other night, and Alex never said a word about any of it, but… this was different. This was Alex with someone else, and Michael was selfish, and the thought that the airman was with anyone – Kyle especially – but Michael pissed him off in a way he didn’t think was possible.

               He came to an abrupt stop in front of another building, his grip on the beer bottle so tight that his knuckles had gone white, and he tried to slow his racing heart, his breath coming out in shaky exhales. He tried not to think of Alex, but the more he tried, the worse he failed, and in rapid images that flashed brightly at the front of his mind, forbidding him from thinking of anything else, he saw him. He saw Alex laughing with Valenti, his arm around his waist, the two of them together, kissing, tearing each other’s clothes off, waking up together –

               Michael was yanked out of his thoughts by a painful sting in his hand, and he saw that the beer bottle he’d been holding had shattered, some of the glass having cut into his palm. He huffed, annoyed at the blood that trickled down his fingers, and with a single thought, sent whatever glass shards there were in his hand shooting out through the already open cuts. He waved his hand to cool off the burning sting, his mind racing back to Alex and Kyle together as if it couldn’t wait to torture him.

               He pursed his lips, trying to pretend it didn’t bother him, but that plan quickly failed and a car driving by beside him nearly got blasted off the road.

               Michael felt a hand on his shoulder, and Alex’s voice broke through everything else, coming to Michael as clearly as it always did.

               “Guerin, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said, glancing at the car as it managed to make its way back onto the road, the driver clearly confused about whatever pushed him. “You could’ve hurt someone.”

               Michael stared at Alex, watching the way his jaw clenched, his brows furrowed, his eyes shined as they searched Michael’s face for some kind of answer or explanation for what he nearly just did. For a second, his muscles began to relax and his thoughts quieted down, and then he briefly wondered if Alex’s eyes shined like that for Kyle, too, and he all but lost his mind.

               He shrugged Alex’s hand off, and walked past him, trying to ignore the cold that suddenly struck him after the loss of Alex’s touch.

               “Guerin,” he heard Alex say behind him, trying to keep up with Michael’s fast strides, and Michael couldn’t help but think of Alex’s leg. He subtly slowed down, and his march lost a bit of its angry stomp, but Michael was petty, and that meant that even if Alex could talk to him, it didn’t mean he had to respond. He didn’t think he could without thinking of Valenti, his hands all over Alex’s body.

               Michael flinched at the thought and turned away from Alex, but not before he caught the hurt that flashed across his face. It was gone quickly enough – Alex didn’t seem to want to show any emotion the way he easily smiled around Kyle – and Michael, feeling his fingers twitch, moved away.

               Alex caught his arm, his eyes on his injury. “What happened to your hand?”

               Michael scoffed. “Oh, you care. That’s nice.”

               He frowned. “Why are you acting like this, what’s wrong?”

               Michael swallowed, his smirk faltering. What’s wrong is that you smile at Valenti like you’re best friends, and I can’t even remember the last time you smiled at me like that. What’s wrong is that I can’t stand the idea of anyone touching you but me. What’s wrong is that you ask me what’s wrong, and all I want to do is tell you what I’m feeling, but I’m terrified of fucking things up again.

               “Nothing,” he said. “Go back to your boyfriend, Alex.”

               “What’re you talking about?” he asked, but Michael had already turned away. Alex tried again to stop him, and he lost all semblance of patience.

               “Guerin –”

               Michael took him suddenly by his shoulders and slammed him against an alley wall. Alex didn’t look scared or terribly surprised – of course, Michael thought, he was a veteran who probably got tossed around a lot – only confused as to why Michael was behaving this way.

He couldn’t understand it himself. All he knew for sure was that the world had seemed to disappear and it was only him and Alex, and they hadn’t been close enough, and now, with Michael caging him in with his body, they were. He was pissed off, and though he knew it was completely unreasonable, he didn’t care, not in the least.

His hands fell down to Alex’s arms, the blood from the glass staining Alex’s shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind it as he watched Michael with furrowed brows.

Michael clenched his jaw. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“What’s going on with you?” Alex asked instead, his look unwavering. “Why’d you storm out? Why are you blowing crap up?”

“Because this is what I’m like, Alex. I get pissed off for no reason, and I blow things up when I feel like it.”

Alex stared, then, “I’m worried about you. The second you left my sight, I was terrified. That’s the truth, Guerin.”

Michael faltered, blinking rapidly as if trying to wake himself up from the angry haze. He was angry, he was supposed to be angry, but Alex’s bluntness caught him off guard.

“Okay?” Alex said, and Michael could hear the faint hesitance in his voice. “That’s the truth. Now will you tell me what’s really bothering you?”

Michael realized right then that his fingers were digging into Alex’s arms. He wanted to step back, to pull away, but he couldn’t. Instead, he brought a hand down to the small of Alex’s back, and pulled his body flush against his.

“What would you do if I kissed you right now? Would you hate me?” his tone was defiant, asking Alex how far he would allow him to go, how much he truly cared about what Michael wanted.

Because Michael didn’t want them to be friends. He didn’t want the risk of Alex getting to know the person he really was, and deciding he didn’t want a romantic relationship. Because Michael wanted Alex. He’d always wanted him, and he wanted him now. If Kyle had already gotten to him first –

“It’s impossible for me to hate you, Guerin,” Alex said softly, “but you won’t do it. You won’t kiss me.”

Michael leaned in. “I could.”

Alex nodded, their lips almost brushing as he said in barely over a whisper, “You could. But you won’t.”

And it killed Michael – it killed him – because he knew Alex was right. Michael hated this new arrangement between them, to have to start from the beginning, to have that fear of exposing too much of his darker self to Alex and sending him away for good, but he wouldn’t ruin it. He couldn’t. Alex knew that Michael loved him, that Michael could only love him, and whatever else he doubted, Michael now knew that Alex trusted him completely.

That was why Alex wasn’t afraid that Michael would hurt him or do anything to him against his will. Not because he was a soldier and could fend him off, but because he had faith in him, the kind that kept fear away, no matter how drunk or angry Michael might’ve been. Alex knew he wouldn’t betray him.

Michael found himself panting, whether it was because of the adrenaline leaving him or because of the feel of Alex’s body pressed against his, he didn’t know, but after a few forced deep breaths, he pulled away, though not too far that Alex couldn’t reach him.

Alex sighed and rubbed his arms, and Michael couldn’t help but notice him subtly massage the blood-stained area where he’d been holding him.

Before he could comment on it, however, Alex gestured to his injured hand, and said, “We better get that cleaned up. Come on.”

Michael held his hand up to look at it, almost having forgotten that it was cut at all. He was about to say he didn’t need any help, that he could mend this problem himself, but at Alex’s expectant eyes, waiting for him to follow him back to the bar, the sentence died in his throat, and he fell into place beside him.

***

The prompt is courtesy of @hellsdemonictrinity. Angst/Fluff Prompt List #9!

Yaaaaay, I did it! Turns out, “I’m worried about you”, is a much more difficult line than you might think to write about, but I’m pretty satisfied with what I came up with. I managed to upload it before 10 pm, too, so I did indeed finish before the day’s end. Click here to read my latest prompt response! I hope you enjoyed reading it, and I hope it brightened your day, if only a little bit. J’vous aime! ❤️

[xmagicxshopx]

The Magicians - Chapter 1

BTS Fanfic Series

Genre: Fantasy Adventure with a hint of Romance, some Comedy in there too Rating: PG-13 Warnings: None at the moment Pairing: OT7 x reader (but will eventually become Jungkook x reader) Notes: magicians!bts au. They are not the idols we all know and love. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: This is raw, not proofread content you’re reading. My eyes are shot so I’ll proofread it once my eyes don’t feel like they’re going to burst out of their sockets. XD

SERIES MASTERLIST

Aimless. Pointless. You were walking around aimlessly with no particular point of direction in mind. A crossroads of sorts. That’s where you found yourself in this very moment. Both literally and figuratively. One path would lead you back to your apartment. Back to your normal, boring life. A boring nine to five job that barely paid the bills and gave you enough food to eat. Not really anyone you could call a friend. And your family? Well.....yeah. That’s another story for another day.

Purpose. You lacked purpose in your life. There was nothing exciting going on in your life but you knew deep down that was at least partly your own fault. Closing yourself off from others. Never opening your heart for fear of getting hurt. But closing yourself off......what was the point of existing if you weren’t going to live your life? It was all much too deep for you and every time you tried to think about it, it just made your mood worse.

“What’s the point? No one’s waiting at home for me anyway.”

And so you took the opposite path. The path that would lead you farther away from the only place you could remotely call home. Wasn’t like there was much there to miss. You lived on the shadier part of town anyhow. There wasn’t even much in your apartment worth stealing. Nothing you were going to miss, anyhow.

Pulling your thin jacket tighter around yourself, you noticed something up ahead. A building. And.....it was on fire??? Fight or Flight mode tried to kick in but your feet were figuratively frozen to the ground. Muscles tensed in panic and stress but never once made a move to carry your body away from the heated mess. There was a small voice in the back of your head telling you to......go inside? To check it out?

‘There could be someone in there. They could be in trouble.’

Well that certainly weighed on your conscience. Finding your ability to breathe, you took a deep breath and started running towards the burning building. What did you have to lose, right? It wasn’t like you had anyone to miss you. By the time you made it to what appeared to be the back of the building, you were already huffing and puffing. Exercise. Maybe you could take up exercising as a hobby? Yeah. Right. Funny.

Anyhow, it was hard to catch your breath properly thanks to all the smoke that was billowing out of the doors. One door had been flung nearly clean off its hinges as it was hanging by a thread. Meanwhile, there was another entrance where the door had apparently disappeared completely. Next to it there was a poster board sign that had THIS WAY written on it along with an arrow directing to the door itself. Well now......

The fire looked pretty bad and while she couldn’t hear any screaming or shouting, that didn’t mean that someone wasn’t in trouble or hurt inside. The real question was, why did she care so much? Why was she putting in all this effort and risking her life for someone who may not even exist? It was as if the building had called out to her; telling her to come and investigate. Weird. Really really weird. With a shrug, you took a careful deep breath and said a bit lazily,

“Well, here goes nothing. It’s been fun.”

Okay. Things just went from weird to weirder. Perhaps you were back in your apartment and just having a really crazy freaky dream and you’d wake up any second now? Nah. Something told you that was just wishful thinking. Instead of flames eating away at your flesh like you anticipated, there was......nothing? Yes. Absolutely nothing.

“What the----”

The flames.....they were just......gone. Had you not seen the damage the building was taking outside only seconds ago, you would have never known there was anything wrong with the place. Sure it looked and smelled dusty and musty but still. There wasn’t a trace of heat coming from any corner of the room. Speaking of room.....the place was kind of creepy.

‘Come forward, my child and claim what you so desperately seek.’

A small sound that....well you weren’t quite sure if you had uttered a squeak, squeal, or yelp. Heck, maybe it was a mixture of the three. Whatever sound it was, you nearly choked on it as you stumbled back a bit. Was that a voice inside your head? It certainly wasn’t your voice. And then you saw it. Or what you thought might be an it. Could have been a him or a her, you supposed.

Masked and menacing looking, sat a figure in what looked like some kind of....ticket booth? Okay. This had to be a dream. A really vivid and realistic appearing dream. And any second now, you were going to wake up and everything would be normal and boring again.....Right?

‘Did I stutter, child? Come forward.’

As if your body had a mind of it’s own, your feet started to shuffle forward towards the ticket booth. What on earth were you doing? This had trouble written all over it. But then again.....you were okay with dying and risking your life for someone only seconds ago, right? So why were you suddenly so scared to approach this masked weirdo? Squaring your shoulders a bit, you walked on your own this time and at a much more confident stride.

‘That’s a good girl. Here. Have this. It’s what you’ve been seeking after all these months. Your biggest wish has been granted. Congratulations.’

What the? Wish? What wish could you possibly have that he would be talking about? Yes, from what you could hear of the masked figure’s voice, it sounded male. By this point, you were standing in front of the ticket booth with your hand subconsciously stretched out and dragging the item closer towards you.

Wow. It was an actual ticket. Inspecting the piece of paper, you could see some strange writing on it. Looked harmless enough. But there was something odd about it. This wasn’t a ticket to any particular form of transportation or location. In fact, the location didn’t even register in your memory and you knew most of the city pretty well.

“The Magic Shop? Where’s that at? The other side of tow---nnn--? Huh???”

And just like that, the ticket booth had vanished before your very eyes. You had looked up from the ticket and everything was gone. The room stayed the same but there was absolutely no trace of a booth or a masked figure. Okay. Things were going from weird to downright creepy at this point. You needed to get the hell out of here and fast. Especially if this was not a dream which you were still feebly wishing it was.

Turning around so fast that the room spun, you started making a mad dash for what you had figured was the door you came through. However, all you were met with was.....nothing. Pitch black nothingness. No doorway, let alone no door. Just.....nothing. Great. You were trapped here.

“Okay. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I’m going to wake up any second now and it’ll be fine.”

Just then, you could hear laughter. But not the warm, comforting kind of laughter. No. This was that classic sinister laugh that made the hairs on your neck stand up. Wonderful. Great. Fantastic. Just peachy.

‘Be careful what you wish for, child.’

And so there you were. Stuck in a room---a building with no way out and a creepy masked figure’s laughter fading into the darkest corners of said room. What the hell were you supposed to do now? If this wasn’t a dream......and you didn’t have anything to drink while being out......then something extremely weird was going on here. Something.....other worldly.

And that was when you felt a blow to the back of your head and your whole other worldly world went black.

Ouch. That was gonna hurt later.

Silence. That’s what you woke up to as you slowly regained use of your senses. Sense of smell, your sight and your hearing. Granted it was quite bright wherever the hell you were. Wait.....wherever you were........Whoa!

“Easy there. We don’t want you falling over and hitting your head again.”

“Says the guy who nearly cracked her skull open mere hours ago.”

“I didn’t hit her that hard, hyung. Besides. Look at her. She’s right as rain now. Right, gorgeous?”

Insane. You had to be. That’s what it was. Your life had become so bland and boring that you had officially gone insane and this was all just a figment of your imagination to make things interesting. Right? That had to be it. There was no way in Hades this could all be real. Not even close.

However, as your eyes adjusted to the bright, natural light of the room, which you happened to notice was quite different from the dark and musty room you found yourself in earlier, you noticed.....one, two, three, four.......seven??? Seven masked figures were standing in front of you?! Your heart sunk.

“There’s more than one of you!?!? Oh my god! Please! Just kill me! I can’t take this strange dream any more!”

“Hey, whoa whoa. Slow down there, babe. No need to be such a drama queen.”

This made your blood boil. Perhaps you really had lost it. Maybe you weren’t getting good night’s sleep. Well you knew that much. But perhaps it was really starting to get to you. The stresses of life having slowly picked away at you and now here you were, finally cracking under all that pressure. Letting out a bark of laughter, you looked up at the masked figures and bit back in bubbling frustration,

“Drama queen? I’ll show you drama queen. Do you have any idea what my last 24 hours have been like? All I wanted to do was try and save someone from a burning building and now I’m sitting here tied to a freaking cha----Huh???”

Looking down at yourself, you weren’t completely wrong. Yes. You were indeed tied to a chair but......where were the ropes? Or chains? Something? Anything? It was as if you were tied with something.....invisible? Good lord. Was the weirdness ever going to end?

“Jimin, would you like to do the honors?”

“Certainly, hyung.”

This was it, they were finally going to put you out of your misery. One of the masked figures lifted what appeared to be an umbrella. What? What’s with the umbrella? Was he going to stab you to death with it or something? Not exactly the way you pictured dying but you supposed it was better than nothing. Maybe he’d just beat you to death instead.

However, none of that came to pass. There was no stabbing or beating. Instead, you watched the masked figure named Jimin lifting his umbrella and pointing the tip directly at you. Before you knew it, those invisible bounds were falling off of you like actual invisible ropes. What???

“Allow us to introduce ourselves.”

As you sat there feeling almost numb with confusion along with a pounding headache, the seven masked figures slowly removed said masks and.....wow. That wasn’t what you had expected. Not at all. Dang. You could practically hear your own slow whistle in your head.

Seven men stood in front of you. Every single one of them young and freakishly attractive. Had they been sculptured by the gods or something? You honestly had expected them all to look like some kind of creepy looking goblins or perhaps the spawn of the devil himself. But definitely had you never envisioned they’d look so......wow.

“We are Bangtan. The Bangtan Boys. Otherwise known as Bulletproof Boy Scouts. My name is RM.”

“I’m Jhope! Nice to meet you!”

“My name is Jin and I’m the most handsome one here. Just to let you know.”

Some of the males rolled their eyes and if the situation hadn’t been so freaky and weird, you honestly would have laughed at his antics.

“Hmm. Name’s Suga.”

“Oh hyung don’t be such a sourpuss. Hi! My name’s Jimin. Sorry we had to knock you out. I told V not to hit so hard but he didn’t listen.”

“Yah! I was protecting us from witchcraft! You should be thanking me!”

“Oh now look who’s being the drama queen.”

“Guys guys. Just finish introducing yourselves.”

The two males known as Jimin and who you were guessing must have been V, both looked over at the taller male who if you recalled right, was named RM. Both sporting pouts, they nodded and said at the same time,

“Yes, hyung.”

“Anyway, the name’s V. Sorry I had to hit you with a frying pan but I had to make sure you weren’t a witch out to get us or something.”

“A frying pan?! You hit me over the head with a frying pan?! Couldn’t you have picked something a little less----violent!?!?”

“Yah yah. Calm down. We’ll take a look at the damage here in a minute. But we still have one more of us to introduce. Jungkookie?”

The male you had come to remember as Jimin face palmed at the young male next to him while V motioned for the male on the other side of him. Wow....he was kind of.....cute. Unsure eyes stared back at you and you found yourself blushing a little.

“My name is Jungkook. As V had mentioned.”

Jimin rolled his eyes and stared up at the ceiling as if asking why was he stuck with someone as blonde as V. Which that was exactly what he was doing. You would have laughed had it not been for the sudden pounding in your head. The pain taking you by surprise, the whimper slipped past your chapped lips before you could swallow it.

And just like that, the seven young men were all over you; fussing like seven mother hens. You were pretty sure Jimin was the one pulling back and apart your hair to try and inspect the damage while V was desperately trying to defend himself and his actions.

The one you were pretty sure was named Jhope dragged Suga with him; mumbling frantically about finding a wash bin along with a wash cloth. You could have sworn you heard the grumpy shorter male grumble something about......conjuring it up themselves? Huh? Whatever. Must have been from the headache you were struggling to deal with. Must be making you hear things.

Meanwhile, Jin (at least you were pretty sure it was Jin) told the male who you knew to be RM that he was going to be in the kitchen making dinner. Was it really dinner time? Huh. Apparently you had lost all sense of time while being stuck in this weird, crazy, creepy place.

It was then that you felt a hand take yours and you nearly jumped out of your seat. The jerk reaction caused the crown of your head to bump into Jimin’s gentle hands and you both made a sound of surprise. Blinking, you realized it had been RM who took one of your hands in his. After flashing you a warm and what he had hoped was a soothing, reassuring smile, he turned to the last male who had yet to make a move and said softly,

“Jungkook, you have the most accommodating space between all of us, the place seems to like you most, go make up a spot for the young lady here to lay down and rest will you.”

Silently nodding, the young male known as Jungkook spared you one last glance with those soft but hollow eyes of uncertainty and made his way for what you could only conclude must have been his room. After careful inspection by Jimin and V, they had determined that you would be fine and didn’t need stitches. Well at least you had that going for you.

Meanwhile, Jhope was treating you with extra care as he used a warm wet wash cloth to help get rid of the caked blood that had coated some of your hair around the crown of your head. To which V felt the need to vigorously defend himself again; claiming that it wasn’t a lot of blood. You were actually starting to find his desperate attempts to defend himself pretty comical.

“The spot is ready for her, hyung.”

“Excellent, Jungkook. How about you help her to your room, eh?”

“But wait----I have so many questions. What is this place? Why are there no doors to get out? And who are all of you? Why are we here? I don’t understand----”

Soft shushing reached your ears as the tanned male took your hand once again; offering you that same soft and warm reassuring smile.

“I know you have a lot of questions. Heck, we have questions ourselves. But now isn’t the time for that. Despite V’s heart being in the right place, you took a pretty nasty blow to the head. You were out for quite a while. Jin’s cooking dinner. How about you take a nap and when dinner is ready, we can all sit down and ask our questions and see what kind of answers we can get, okay? Jungkook, if you would, please.”

And before you could protest, you were being lifted out of the chair to stand on your own two feet and being passed off onto the young male known as Jungkook. His hand was a little calloused but otherwise gentle as he took your hand in his and started leading the way to where you guessed must have been his room. So it seems like they all have their own room. Were there no more rooms available for them to just dump you in? Why did you have to sleep in a male’s room? More specifically, a male who was a complete stranger to you.

“In here, please.”

You were taken out of your thoughts at Jungkook’s soft voice asking you to step inside first while he held the door open for you. After giving a soft, shy thanks, you stepped inside and was surprised with how roomy it really was. It was almost like a whole apartment. You could see what looked like a connecting bathroom suite and a king sized bed. There was a lounge area with a couple couches and an arm chair. It was nice. Cozy, even.

Stepping in with you, the male made his way casually over to the beanbag chair that he had placed near the foot of the bed and picked up the book that was resting in said chair. After making himself comfortable in the bean filled piece of furniture with book in hand, he glanced up at you as you remained rooted in place near the doorway.

“Well?”

“Um......huh?”

“Wow. V hyung must have really did a number on you. Do you need help getting into bed?”

Flustered. That’s exactly what you had become. Flustered. Feeling the heat rush to your face, you quickly shook your head which of course only made your pounding head ache worse. Your heart was trying to beat in your throat as you watched him raise a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow in curiosity. Finally finding your voice, or what was left of it, you managed to reply weakly,

“A-Ani. I can get in the bed just fine. I guess the headache is making it a bit hard to think straight.”

“He probably gave you a concussion. The pabo. V hyung never really has known his own strength.”

By this time, you had manged to close the distance between yourself and the bed. This was his bed. He had been laying in it and now he was just going to.....give it to you? Glancing over at him, you noticed he had since then put his full attention on the book he was reading; looking perfectly comfortable in the beanbag chair.

“The pills on the nightstand are for you. They’re just normal painkillers. Figured it would help with your headache. I wasn’t sure if you were a water or milk drinker, so I got you a glass of each. I have juice if you’d prefer something sweeter.”

Gosh you were grateful that he had his back to you at the foot of the bed. You were blushing like crazy. But why? He was just being....nice. Right? After stuttering out a soft thanks, you took the glass of water and the two small pills and popped them into your mouth. Swallowing them both in one go, you carefully set the glass of water back down on the night stand and tried to lay down to get comfortable.

It was probably no more than 10 minutes but to you it felt like 20 or even 25 minutes. You just couldn’t sleep. And who could blame you? The last 24 hours had been quite the adventure. Especially since you could now determine that this wasn’t some crazy dream. Your head was spinning with questions and flashbacks of the creepy masked figure. With a heavy sigh, you mumbled shyly in defeat,

“Jungkook?”

“Hmm?”

“Could.......Could you read to me what you’re reading?”

He had been in the middle of turning a page when he suddenly paused like a statue. What felt like several minutes passing of nothing but silence, he finally turned the page and glanced over his shoulder at you; looking quite perplexed.

“You mean like......tell you a bedtime story?”

“Yah. Don’t make me sound like a big baby.”

Letting out a soft snort of amusement, the male smiled and stood up from his seat. You couldn’t help but notice his smile. He looked like a happy bunny rabbit whenever he smiled. Again, he was cute. It made you blush as you tried to fight off this weird sensation of giddiness. Perhaps you really were losing it. Watching him walk over to sit down on the edge of the bed, he rose one of those perfectly shaped eyebrows in a challenge as he asked you as much,

“What if you don’t like what I’m reading?”

“I’ll gladly take a cookbook if that’s what you’ve got.”

With another snort and a couple soft chuckles, Jungkook shook his head in amusement and replied casually,

“Ani ani. Not quite as dry as a cookbook. It’s.....well.....It’s actually my journal.”

“Oh---Oh I mean---You don’t have to read it. I’m sure that’s very personal and---”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind reading it to you. It’s basically a log I’ve made of my time here with the hyungs. I often look back on it for self reflecting purposes.”

Wow. Sounds like he’s been here awhile. You wondered just how long these boys have been stuck in this godforsaken place. And here you were complaining and whining about a mere 24 hours. Heck, probably not even that long. Timidly getting more comfortable, you courageously patted the empty space next to you and spoke shyly in a small voice,

“There’s plenty of room for the both of us if you wanted to lay down too.”

“I prefer reading sitting up. But I suppose I could at least sit next to you. You don’t have cooties or anything, right?”

“Yah, pabo. Shut up and read.”

After the both of your laughter mingled a little, you got settled in deeper into the covers while he himself carefully climbed up onto the bed and in a sitting upright position with his back against the headboard. After clearing his throat a little, you noticed he was starting from the very beginning of the book.

“June 13th,.....”

Wow......they really had been stuck here for a long time. For years. You couldn’t imagine being stuck in this creepy place for so long. And yet here they were. These seven young men trying to live their lives while being stuck in a building with no way out. How had they managed to survive for so long and not lost their sanity? Or even their humanity? Jhope had seemed really nice. Like a ray of sunshine. And Jimin and V were pretty funny when put together in the same room. RM, he had been so kind and gentle with you.

“I searched and searched and searched but couldn’t find a single door. I felt myself going mad. Insane. There had to be a way out. There just had to be, I told myself.”

If you had learned anything from this crazy day, it was that you liked Jungkook’s voice. He made a great storyteller. In fact, it was the very sound of his voice that finally helped lull you to sleep; your pounding headache having dulled tremendously with the help of the painkillers he gave you.

Maybe being stuck here wasn’t so bad after all.

You could learn to make the most of it.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Need the Sun to Break

Here’s part III of the Chaos and the Calm series! I’m absolutely falling in love with Harry and Alex, and I hope you are too. Please come in and talk to me about it, and ideas, predictions, feedback you might have- I don’t bite and I love hearing from you all!

Need the Sun to Break

October 2018

Back of the room/How come my friends already know you?/I feel like a kid/Too shy to speak up so I keep it hid

Harry’s eyes darted across the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Alex. She had arrived at his house a few hours prior, but they hadn’t been together for a bit. Nobody really knew they were dating yet; things were so early that they had decided to hold off on announcing things for a little while. That being said, Harry wasn’t so confident he wouldn’t let things slip accidentally if someone asked him. He was so proud and excited to finally be able to call her his, but he respected that she wanted to take things slow. He had told her that things were going to move at her pace, and he wasn’t about to break that promise. So naturally, he was thrilled to see Alex engaged in what seemed like a fascinating conversation with Clare. It was the first time they had met— Clare was usually back home in Britain— but the two were already acting like old friends, and for that Harry was eternally grateful. When hearing that she and a few of his friends that worked at the label were in New York for some event or another— he thinks he heard something about a Beyoncé concert— he had jumped at the chance to host them at his house. He had been a bit apprehensive about inviting Alex over, not really for any other reason other than the fact that she wasn’t going to know too many of the attendees. She knew Julia, obviously, and by extension Matt, but other than the two of them, she was kind of at a loss for people to talk to.

Seeing her get along with his friends was endlessly relieving for Harry. Seeing Alex slightly tipsy with his friends, spilling part of her drink on herself then laughing while mopping it up only made him fall for her more. When she got up to go get a napkin to sop up her dress, he followed her into his kitchen. Smirking slightly, Harry leaned against the entryway for a moment while he watched her open and close no less than six drawers in her quest for a napkin, or a paper towel, or what, Harry wasn’t entirely sure.

“Where is that blasted towel…” Alex muttered, turning around and spotting Harry.

He walked over to the oven, where a towel hung on the door handle. “Looking for one of these, love?”

Alex shot him a nasty look, plucking the towel out from his hand, walking over to the sink, and running part of it under some water before blotting her dress. Harry had always loved green on her, said it brought out her eyes. “Y’know, Alex, you were drinking Chardonnay. I don’t think it’ll stain too bad.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I mean, I figured. Better safe than sorry though, you know? Wouldn’t want to wake up tomorrow and find a massive stain on it.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. I’m glad to see you’re getting on so well with my friends.” He added, holding one of her hands gently in his.

“Clare’s an angel.” Alex blushed. “It’d practically be a sin to not like her.”

I need the sun to break/You've woken up my heart/I'm shaking, oh/My luck could change

He chuckled. “Yeah, you’re not wrong there.” As Alex leaned up against the bar, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve, Harry realized just how much his life had changed in the past month. He was falling for her even more than he thought possible, and it terrified him. He had never felt the way he felt about Alex with anyone else, and he had never let anyone in the same way he longed to let her in. Seeing her so completely at ease, talking to his friends that were becoming hers, with her hair up in high ponytail and barely a trace of makeup on her face, gave him pause. Made him think of how long he had wanted her to be his. Made him remember the night he realized he had fallen in love with her.

...

The £3 bottle of rosé long since drank and the sun long since set, Harry turned over on the old quilt to look at Alex. She was in that strange liminal stage of sleep; he wasn’t sure she’d hear him if he talked to her, but didn’t want to take chances. They had fallen asleep in the meadow like so many times before, from the time they were kids and their parents would frantically search for their whereabouts to the night before he left for the X-Factor to now, both of them 22 years old with their entire lives ahead of them. What would our 10-year-old selves think, Harry mused, if they could see where we were now? After a few moments of pondering, Harry didn’t think that their younger selves would actually be all that surprised. Him, maybe. But Alex had always had nothing but complete and utter faith in him and his music, and he always knew that her designs would take her as far as she wanted to go, even when they were sixteen and she was photoshopping his face onto Justin Timberlake’s body. She was just about to start a job at a new firm in London, and he was leaving the next afternoon— this afternoon, Harry thought with a grimace — to America to begin writing for his solo album.

The two of them had fallen asleep sometime a little past one o’clock, and Harry noted with a cursory glance at his watch that it was nearing five. Alex looked so peaceful on the blanket, and Harry had to stop himself from tucking a stray piece of hair that had fallen in front of her face behind her ear. It hit him like a ton of bricks right as the sun peeked over the horizon, and Harry knew that he was well and truly fucked. He realized that he was in love with his best friend as the light hit her face just right,. He had never known that her hair looked so red in the sunlight. Then again, he had never known that he was in love with his best friend until a few moments ago. His breath caught in his throat. Shit.

...

Been in the dark for weeks and I've realized you're all I need/I hope that I'm not too late

Ever since Alex had come back into his life, she had turned his world upside-down. He had stopped himself from telling her how he felt countless times, fearing the worst possible reaction. And God, had it been hard. So it was incredibly paradoxical that now that Alex was finally his, his was more terrified than ever about his feelings. Alex knew that he cared about her; he hoped that much was obvious. What she might not have known was just how deeply he fallen in love with her. He hadn’t said it yet, and it was eating him alive. He was committed to what he promised her, however, and wasn’t going to move anything forward until she was ready. As he leaned up against the counter, holding a still-empty tumbler that once upon a time had held a scotch straight, he realized a simple truth. Something had brought them together that May night, in the exact time and place and space where they needed to be. Whether that was God, the universe, whatever, Harry didn’t know. What he did know was that it no longer mattered that he had been pining for her, and that she didn’t know just how deeply his feelings ran. The only thing that mattered, the only thing that held any kind of significance for him as far as Alex or anything else was concerned, was that they were together. They were together, and they were happy, and how fast or slow their relationship went was all for naught as long as that remained true.

Interrupting his thoughts, Clare came over to wish the two good night, leaving Alex with a tight hug, a new contact in her phone, and a promise to meet for coffee later in the week. After she left, the two moved to a slightly more quiet and secluded spot, settling on a pair of plump chaises in an alcove off of the main living room.

“Did you get the chance to talk to anyone else?” Harry asked. Clare was wonderful, but the last thing Harry wanted was for her to be stuck feeling isolated from the group with only one or two friends that she could rely on.

Alex nodded. “Yeah, I had a pretty… animated conversation with Ella and James a few hours ago,” she said carefully, giving a small smile. “Took the mick out of me for being a Liverpool supporter, but they’re alright other than that. Got to talk to Lia before she left, think she said there’s an early meeting she’s got to be at tomorrow.” Taking a peek out of their small refuge, Harry noticed that the number of guests had indeed started to dwindle.

The party was winding down, guests had been tricking out for the last twenty or so minutes, and somewhere in the midst of his conversation with Alex the playlist had been switched from classic rock to nothing but Abba— not that he was complaining.

“I should probably get going,” Alex murmured in his ear, timidly squeezing his hand with a gentle smile. “It’s a Sunday and I have to be at work by eight.”

Harry nodded. “‘F course, love. Stay safe, text me when you get back, okay?” Alex lived nearly an hour’s subway ride away, and Harry had never been too fond of her having to travel so far, particularly so late at night. Her apartment building was fairly safe, but the surrounding area had been subject to a string of muggings in the last few weeks which had caused him a fair bit of worry.

“Of course.” Taking a quick glance to be sure they were free from prying eyes, Alex leaned in to give Harry a quick kiss on the cheek.

Oh, butterflies/You steal my sleep each night

As the clock struck three in the morning, Harry woke with a start. The few hours of sleep he had gotten had been fitful, and no amount of laying in bed or cups of tea seemed to help. With a dissatisfied grunt, Harry swung his legs over the side of his bed, pushed himself up, and padded out to the living room. Clicking on the TV, Harry flipped through channels, rolling his eyes when he was that all that was on was reruns of the Great British Bake Off and golf. Bake Off it is, he thought. Ever since Alex left, she had been on his mind. Not in the worrisome, slightly-crazy ‘I can’t stop thinking about her and I need her to be with me 24/7 way,’ in the ‘I’m so in love with this woman and it scares the shit out of me’ way.

Things were going so well as a couple, Harry couldn’t help but grow worried. Things were going so well that he began to question everything. He had never felt this content in any of his former relationships, never this assured or confident or certain. And that’s what scared him. Things were going so well that Harry thought it was inevitable that something would go wrong, that things would crash and burn before they even had a chance to learn what it meant to be a them. He was so worried about how things would turn out, so worried about their relationship, because he had never felt this way about someone before. Harry had had girlfriends before. Plenty of them, in fact, Harry grumbled, remembering the days when he could scarcely go for a walk with a woman for fear of her being deemed his ‘next conquest.’ He might have even loved one or two of them. That wasn’t the issue. He had never fallen so hard for anyone before, had never felt same way around anyone before, and he had never felt like he had so much to lose. God forbid anything went wrong, Harry stood to lose not only the love of his life, but his best friend. Stop thinking like that, he tried to beat into his head. Don’t make something out of nothing. Rationally, he knew that there were no real reasons to perpetually be stuck in a ‘worst-case-scenario’ mindset, but he was finding it difficult to dig himself out of it.

I'm halfway gone/Sleepless, I'm battle worn/And you're all I want/ So bring me the dawn

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked down at his hands, the same ones that had held hers only hours before. He didn’t need anyone else to tell him how his relationship ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t’ work. It was only him and Alex. It had always been him and Alex, ever since they met in primary doing the Year 5 musical. Peter Pan had left something to be desired in terms of quality, but what it had accomplished was a friendship that Harry had cherished ever since his days in green tights. Harry didn’t know how their relationship would turn out. That wasn’t up to him. He could continue to love Alex, keeping their happiness at the center of every decision he made.  He was weary from overthinking and weary from outside opinions, but he knew that the only thing he could reply on was the love he had for Alex and the hope of everything to come.

[dabbledrabbleprose]

Fallen Snow

Hey all, here’s the Genyatta fic that I was suddenly consumed by and had a BURNING need to write. Enjoy!

Read on AO3!

******

Peace.

In thirty-three years, never had Genji truly felt peace. He’d had moments when he was happy, sure. Content, even. But before coming to the Shambali, never had he experienced the feeling of being well and truly at peace. He’d had too much anger, too much conflict, both within his life and within himself. It had taken years of effort, along with the guidance and tutelage of one particularly patient and understanding omnic monk, but Genji had at last found peace.

And nowhere was he more at peace than when he was meditating with his Master. They sat side by side in a matching lotus within one of the deep chambers of the temple, awash within the warm glow of the Iris. The temple did well to silence the distractions of the outside world; Genji couldn’t even hear the song of the Himalayan wind from within the inner sanctum’s deep chambers. As he let his mind ascend into blissful tranquility, he let himself absorb the few sounds that rang against the profound silence. He slowly became aware of the monotone drone of Zenyatta’s processing units, steady and grounding to his left, then the gentle hum of his own cybernetics, the whir of his respiratory ventilator, and the rhythmic beating of his own heart, starkly organic amid the rest of the synthetic life he’d surrounded himself with. Occasionally, one of Zenyatta’s orbs would chime with a pure, clear note, aiding Genji in sinking deeper into his meditation.

They could remain that way for hours, finding peace in quiet introspection, and the pair had indeed planned to spend the rest of the evening that way, letting time glide around them and feeling the flow of the Iris and the universe drift by.

Dong.

One of Zenyatta’s orbs chimed, but the note was sour, the sound so discordant and jarring that it broke Genji from his meditation. He raised his head in surprise, looking over at the omnic beside him. A younger Genji would have demanded an explanation for the interruption, but he now understood the value of patience, and knew if he waited, his wise Master would offer an explanation once he’d-

Zenyatta put a hand to his forehead and made a sharp, static sound of pain.

Fuck patience.

“Master?” Genji didn’t bother to hide the worry in his voice, turning anxiously to face him. “What’s wrong?”

“Forgive me, but I must end our session early. I fear something is amiss down in the village,” Zenyatta said, orbs shifting from their meditative state to close around him. “I am picking up the frequency of the village distress beacon.”

Genji leapt fluidly to his feet.

“Then we must go to them!”

“Wait, my student,” Zenyatta’s voice was even, but held a note of urgency. “It would be unwise to rush into danger as a rabbit to a snare. We know not what awaits us.”

“Then I’ll be quiet about it,” he replied vehemently, already headed for the stairs. “But I’ll not sit by while the village is in danger!”

Genji was out the door and sprinting down the mountainside before Zenyatta could reply.

The world outside the temple was deceptively peaceful. Night had fallen and it had begun to snow, thick fluffy flakes drifting in silence around him. He could hear nothing out of the ordinary, but the village was halfway down the mountain and the snowfall could easily dampen any sounds of commotion.

He started down the mountain at a sprint. The cloud cover hid the moon, but the enhanced night vision in his visor made the mountainside appear as bright as midday. He didn’t bother with the switchbacks of the paved pathways, instead racing straight down the mountain slope, nimbly leaping across rock and snow.

Never in all his years here had he heard of a distress beacon being activated. Hell, he didn’t even know they had distress beacons. Something he’d have to ask Zen about later. There had been occasional natural disasters over the years; avalanches, rockslides, storms, but nothing the Shambali hadn’t been able to handle. That meant that whatever was happening right now was out of their league, and Genji’s overactive imagination was all too happy to provide a list of horrible possibilities for him.

Terrorists were at the top of his list. Anti-omnic and pro-omnic extremists were equally unhappy with the peace the Shambali were trying to garner between omnic and organic peoples. There were plenty of people out there who were anti-Iris as well, fearing that the Iris was a new form of God Program, ready to start a new omnic crisis.

Genji slid down a sheer cliff face and leapt to a boulder below, fast approaching the shrine that sat halfway down the mountainside, between the temple and the village. Fear twisted at his gut. What if this was his fault? What if this was someone with a grudge against him, personally? Talon? The tattered remains of the Shimada? Between the yakuza, Overwatch, Blackwatch, and his own charming personality, he’d built up a long list of enemies over the years. If his past was responsible for bringing danger to the monks here…

He swallowed that thought as he reached the Shrine. Thank the Iris that Mondatta was currently in Europe. If anything happened to him, he’d never be able to forgive himself. It took only seconds for him to dart roof to roof, sprinting across the sparse collection of buildings until he reached the cliff edge to see the village below.

It was burning.

Genji’s heart skipped a beat, then he was on the move once more, scaling down the cliff face with inhuman speed and agility. His mind and heart felt ablur, the calm of the evening’s meditation long forgotten as his thoughts spun circles around themselves in an ouroboros of guilt, fear, and anxiety.

He slowed as he grew close enough to the village to smell the smoke through his ventilator. He activated his stealth settings, disabling the green lights on his body armor, and approached silently. Thank god he was armed. His wakizashi was in his room, but his cybernetic body was automatically armed with shuriken and he never went anywhere without , the nodachi strapped to his back. He dropped over the last rocky outcropping and crouched behind a low wall, surveying the chaos before him.

Several buildings were on fire, but it wasn’t as bad as it had looked from the Shrine, and the heavy snowfall was already helping to combat the flames. Strangers stomped around the village, humans dressed in heavy cold-weather gear and night vision goggles, spread through the village and appeared to be ransacking the place. They looked as if they were searching for something. As Genji looked closer, he found the scattered, still forms of several omnic monks, motionless under a layer of fallen snow.

Fury boiled in his blood and he began to rise, reaching for the blade at his back.

“So good of you to join me, my student,” said Zenyatta from just behind him.

Genji’s heart leapt into his throat and he spun around, Ryūichi moji half out of her sheath before he calmed.

“M-Master?” he whispered frantically, crouching back down behind the wall. “But…how did you-”

Zenyatta raised a hand to silence him.

“I haven’t taught you all the secrets of the Iris,” he said, voice pitched carefully low to not draw the attention of the intruders. “Including the back passageway that connects the temple to the village.”

Genji stared at him from behind his visor, but was spared from having to come up with a coherent reply to that as his Master continued.

“I have been observing for a short while. It appears these individuals have come with the misguided notion that there is some sort of treasure to be found in the monastery.”

Genji was taken aback. That wasn’t on his list at all.

“I saw…bodies,” he whispered back. The words were hard to say aloud. He knew everyone in this village, and the thought of losing anyone was soul wrenching. “How many are hurt?”

“That, I do not know,” Zen said softly. “Several of our brothers and sisters fell at the before my arrival. I know not the state of those who have fallen, nor how…permanent their incapacitated status is.”

Genji nodded solemnly, understanding. He would hope for the best, but be prepared for the worst.

“Somewhat more pressing is the fact that several more of our brethren have been confined within the village library. From what I have been able to surmise, our uninvited visitors intend to interrogate those held captive in hopes of revealing the location of the fortune they seek.”

Genji let out a low breath. “They’re going to torture them.”

“That is my fear.”

Genji moved to stand and was stopped by a metal hand on his shoulder. This pattern of Zenyatta stopping him from trying to take action was starting to become a trend, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it.

“Master, I have to help!” he hissed.

“And so we shall. But the wolf who hunts in a pack is more often successful than the Sparrow hunting alone.”

A terrible metaphor, but point taken. Genji took a deep breath and forced himself to relax with only marginal success. Trust. He needed to trust Zenyatta. Now more than ever.

“You have a plan?”

“I do.”

“Then I am listening, Master.”

“Go to the library’s southwest window and wait. I shall enter through the northeast door and keep them distracted while you rescue our captive brothers and sisters. Once everyone has been moved to safety, we shall dispatch our unwanted guests.”

“…That’s it?”

“Indeed.”

“Master, that…that is a terrible plan,” Genji said flatly. “It’s so terrible I don’t even know where to start.”

“Do try.”

Genji let out a sharp exhale of frustration. “I can think of a dozen ways how it could go wrong. We don’t even know how many hostiles there are or how many captives or how they are armed or…” he trailed off as Zenyatta held up a hand to silence him.

“No plan survives first contact with the enemy, my student. I merely thought it prudent to have a tentative plan in place before we are forced to improvise anyway,” Zenyatta said calmly, and motioned for Genji to follow him. “Regardless, I shall draw their attention while you remain at their backs. From there, we will do what must be done.”

Keeping low, they crept along the outskirts of the village, moving stealthily from cover to cover. Despite Zenyatta’s calming presence, worry still gnawed at Genji.

“I still do not like the idea of you offering yourself as a distraction,” he whispered as they approached the small, sturdy building that acted as the monastery’s library.

“I am well aware,” Zenyatta murmured. “And I appreciate your concern, but your skills are better put to use behind enemy lines. Go. I know you will be in position before I reach the door.”

Genji hesitated. “…Master…should I attempt to use…non-lethal means of subduing them?”

Zenyatta’s voice, if possible, became even more gentle. “That would be ideal, of course, but I hold no illusions that we may not be granted that luxury.” He gently rested a metal hand against Genji’s faceplate, as if to cup his cheek. “Do what must be done to protect the people of this village, Genji, and know that you will do it free from my judgement.”

“Thank you, Master,” Genji briefly brushed his synthetic fingertips against the back of Zenyatta’s hand. “…and please be careful.”

With that, he melted into the shadows. It only took seconds for him to ghost toward the stout building that held the library. It was small, only holding a few dozen books, but it also held the large databases of a much more extensive digital library, free for any to peruse. Genji climbed the side of the building as easily as a staircase, perching in the window and surveying the scene.

His heart sank. He counted seven intruders and zero hostages. Instead, there was a pile of omnic bodies thrown in a corner, unmoving, lights dark. His soul ached as he recognized the faceplates of those tossed aside like junk. Sister Dhanvi…Brother Batsal…Brother San23…all friends he had made here. Gone.

“Yer a fukkin’ moron,” One of the intruders snarled in English, breaking Genji out of his mourning and bringing him back to the task at hand. The speaker was looming over a smaller man, dressed like the others, but obviously more scrawny under the thick winter gear. The other five men were digging around the back of the large library servers, fiddling with the wiring. “Yer gizmo took out the bots, but it also knocked out the fukkin’ server, y’dumbass! How’re we supposed to get our intel now?”

Gizmo? Genji tried to see the device the smaller man was holding. It was round with a few dials and loose wires looped around what looked like a magnetic coil.

“Take it easy,” the smaller man replied calmly. His accent sounded possibly British, but Genji wasn’t the best judge at English accents. “It may have shut down all the electronics, but once your men restore the power, we can reboot the servers just fine. A small delay is a fair price for subduing the omnics, especially when we’re in no rush.”

Shut down the electronics? An EMP device! If the monks were hit by an EMP, then there was a chance they were just deactivated, not dead! If they had power restored to them and rebooted successfully, they might be okay! But if they had an active EMP device, that meant that he and Zenyatta-

“Ah, my friends. Is there something I can help you with?”

All eyes turned to Zenyatta as the monk chose that moment to enter the library through the front door, sounding for all the world like an apologetically late host.

“The thing, use the gizmo!”

“I can’t!” The small man snapped. “It needs charge time between uses!”

Genji grinned like a dragon. Perfect.

“Fuck it, then!” The large man pointed a handgun at Zenyatta’s head, but never fired the shot, suddenly distracted by the three shuriken that sank into his arm.

“Arrgh!”

The room erupted into chaos. Thugs scrambled for weapons and Genji dropped down from the window, landing hard on one of the other men, driving him to the ground and leaping off him to swing a kick at a second man while throwing a shuriken into the ankle of a third. Zenyatta smoothly floated into the room, breezily deflecting a thrown punch and redirecting the thug’s momentum to send him slamming into a wall.

Caught between two attackers, the thugs fell into confusion as Genji and Zenyatta worked together. Genji fought with a complex blend of multiple martial arts styles and the brutal street fighting he’d picked up in Blackwatch, while Zen flowed through the fight like water, using a smooth Tai Chi to manipulate the energy of the fight around him. Genji threw thugs left and right, only occasionally using his shuriken to injure, and he was even starting to think they’d get through this without any casualties on either side.

He looked over at his Master with a grin, just in time to see him glide between two thugs, tricking them into punching each other, and then felt his heart stop. The scrawny man had slipped out of the fight, lurking on the edges, waiting for an opening to strike.

“Behind you!” Genji shouted, but his warning was too late, and he watched in horror as the man swung a heavy wrench at his Master, striking him right across the exposed wiring along his back of his neck. Time seemed to slow as Zen’s back arched around the blow, sparks flying from the damaged area, and his Master let out a synthetic scream that Genji knew would haunt him in his nightmares. Zen’s lights flickered, then he dropped like a stone to the ground, orbs spilling around him, and fell still. The lights went out.

“Zenyatta!”

Genji’s blood boiled and he saw red. Emerald scales writhed beneath his flesh and cybernetics as the Dragon within him awakened, responding to his rage. Her eyes opened behind his own, focusing on their targets as their fury became one, then fell into his flesh as wrath overtook them.

“Ryūjin no ken wo kurae!”

It had been a very long time since Genji had let himself be blinded by rage, but now he let it consume him. The men he’d tried to peacefully subdue before now garnered no mercy, and he cut them down with brutal efficiency. It was over in moments, the library streaked with blood, and Genji stood panting amid the carnage, his ventilator hissing as it worked to keep up with his breath rate. He looked around and found one body missing: the scrawny man who had signed his death warrant by striking down his Master. The door to the library stood open, and Genji bolted into the snowy night.

There were more thugs still out in the village, and they met their end before they even knew death had come for them on emerald scales and a silver blade. He tore through the village, striking down any stranger who crossed his path, but still he found no sign of the scrawny man at the top of his shit list. In frustration, he climbed to the peak of the village shine, the highest point in the village, and looked around.  

His visor’s night vision was good, but his Dragon’s eyes were better, and they spotted their target fighting through the snow, running north away from the village. Genji let out a wordless battle cry and leapt from the building, sprinting after him with inhuman speed. He left the village behind, not bothering with stealth, wanting to strike fear into his target, wanting him to see the bloodied, glowing green cyborg come to claim his life.

The scrawny man struggled through the snow, then glanced behind him in time to see his death sprinting toward him, sword drawn. Genji was close enough to hear the man cry out in fear when he leapt toward him, Ryūichi moji held in both hands, ready to plunge the nodachi into his back.

The EMP blast took him completely by surprise.

There was no warning. Just a burst of electromagnetic energy and all the cybernetics in Genji’s suit went dead. His synthetic muscles went slack and Ryūichi moji fell from his hands. He hit the ground hard, sprawling face first in the snow, unable to move.

No! No, not now! Not when he was so close. If only he could just…

His beloved dragon, sister to his heart, responded to his wishes and rose up over his prone body, taking on an ethereal green form. No EMP could stop her, made of ancient spirit magic and not nanites, hard light, or other technology. She continued where her fallen master could not, and lunged forward to snap her jaws around the scrawny man. She passed through him, leaving no mark upon his body, but he collapsed nonetheless, dead before he hit the snow. Her vengeance taken and energy spent, the dragon dissipated to the winds, leaving him alone once more.

Genji lay face down in the snow, head turned to the side, suddenly aware of the silence around him. The EMP had completely killed all his cybernetics; he didn’t even have enough power for emergency readouts in his visor. Everything was just…off. He tried to move, but it was like his body couldn’t respond, couldn’t even move his head, leaving him staring at the same spot in the snow, able to see one arm sprawled in front of him.

He took a sharp, ragged breath. His heart was still pounding in his chest, having just climbed over the entire village and sprinted halfway down the mountain, but now he seemed to be struggling for breath.

Oh. Oh. It wasn’t just his prosthetic limbs that were offline. It was everything. One of his lungs was synthetic and a good portion of his circulatory system was artificial. His cybernetic body was more than just prosthetics and enhancements, it was his life support.

And it was dead.

No, no, no! No, not now…not like this. The fallen monks back in the village needed to be charged and rebooted, the fires needed to be put out, the buildings repaired, and Zenyatta, oh Zenyatta… His Master, his mentor, his friend… Genji had been so consumed with rage that he hadn’t even stopped to see the extent of Zenyatta’s injuries. He should have killed the thugs in the room, let scrawny guy run, and tended to his Master right away.

Instead, now he lay alone in the cold, far outside the village, watching the falling snow slowly cover his still body while he listened to his own labored breathing. It had been years since he’d been forced to breathe without his ventilator, and the sound was weak and wheezing, even to his own ears.

He was going to die here, alone, not even knowing if Zenyatta was alive. Mondatta was going to return from Europe and find his entire monastery dead, and it was all Genji’s fault because he couldn’t keep his damn temper in check. He could feel the cold sinking into him, what little body heat he had left escaping with the loss of his thermal support. He couldn’t even shiver, and he wasn’t able to distinguish where his offline cybernetics ended and his organic body began, all of it growing uniformly cold and numb.

His arm was now completely covered by snowfall, and the snow was starting to accumulate on his visor, effectively blinding him. Maybe no one would find him. Maybe he would be lost out here forever, his broken body claimed by the mountain. That would be alright, he thought. If he had to be buried anywhere, he would want to be here, where he became whole, in the place that he truly felt was his home. He head felt lightheaded and unfocused, finding it harder than ever to breathe.

He didn’t want to die. He had regrets, unfulfilled promises and dreams…but if he had to die today, he would at least die with his spirit at peace. He tried to make a few meditative, calming breaths and only managed a few weak gasps, but he’d become enough of a master over his own mind that he still settled his soul. He would meet the afterlife in harmony.

The image of Zenyatta collapsed on the ground sprang unbidden into his mind, and a sob broke through his gasps, shattering all the peace he’d wrapped around him. Dammit all, he couldn’t even die properly, could he? He offered a prayer to the gods or spirits or the Iris or whatever might be listening to a poor, broken cyborg, praying that Zenyatta would be safe.

With that, he let the darkness take him.

I’m sorry, Zen.

 ***

 He was warm. Warm and comfortable and safe. He’d just had a terrible dream that seemed to be just beyond the edge of recollection, and he couldn’t seem to work up the motivation to focus on it anyway, content to sleep in a little more. He reached absently for his blanket to bundle himself up tighter, frowning when he couldn’t seem to find it. He grumbled wordlessly, groping blindly for the blanket, and froze when another hand closed around his, metal fingers entwining between his own.

“Genji?”

Genji’s eyes fluttered open. It was well after sunrise and he was indeed in his room, staring blankly at the ceiling. His vision had no visual enhancements, indicating his visor had been removed, and he turned his head to find himself looking into the smooth faceplate of Zenyatta.

“…Master?”

Memory returned with the force of a freight train. The alarm, the fires, the attack, Zenyatta’s unconscious body, the massacre, the EMP. Genji bolted upright.

“Master! Are you hurt? I watched you fall!”

Zenyatta’s cool gaze met his own.

“I am fine, Genji,” he said, his voice very soft. “The blow overloaded my systems, but no permanent harm was done.”

“And the other monks? Everyone else?” Genji leaned forward anxiously.

“Most affected by the attack were able to be recharged and rebooted. Unfortunately, Brother Nikett and Sister O45TK were too damaged by the feedback to their mainframes and unable to be recovered.”

Genji’s heart sank. Nikett’s greatest passion was tending to the village birdfeeders and O45TK was an excellent weaver who loved tapestries. They would both be sorely missed. Damn it all. He wasn’t able to save everyone.

Hell. It was a miracle he’d been able to save anyone with how he’d lost control. Genji held a little tighter to Zenyatta’s hand and dropped his eyes, suddenly too ashamed to meet his gaze.

“Master, I…” his voice wavered, but he couldn’t bear the thought of not admitting his failing to his Master and his words spilled out of him in a rush. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. When I saw you lying there, lifeless on the ground and surrounded by enemies, I…I couldn’t…” Tears filled his eyes and he let them fall, admitting his failings to the one individual in the world who mattered to him more than anything. “I lost control. Everything you’ve taught me over the years, and I forgot all of it in a single moment of fear and anger. I didn’t even check to see if you were safe, I just fell into my rage and…and slaughtered them. All of them. I chased them out into the snow without mercy or pity, like a monster. Please…please, allow me a chance to earn your forgiveness. I have so much more to learn. I thought I was a better man than who I was when you found me all those years ago, but it seems I still have the same…”

He trailed off as Zenyatta slowly took both Genji’s hands in his own and gently pressed them to the Jieba on his forehead.

Omnics do not cry. Omnic hands do not tremble, their shoulders do not shake, and they have no breath to shudder, but Genji knew something was wrong by the way his Master became absolutely, perfectly motionless.

“…Master?”

“Oh, my beautiful, beloved student,” Zenyatta said, his voice so soft and gentle that Genji could barely hear. “You have come so far and grown so much. I could never be anything but proud of you. That being said, I would humbly request that you do not put yourself in such a position again.”

Genji’s shoulders slumped, but he did not pull his hands away.

“I know. I’m sorry. I should have kept my temper in check and-”

“No, Genji.”

Genji looked up sharply, so shocked by the fact that Zenyatta had interrupted him that he found himself at a loss for words.

“Moments ago, when you awoke, your first thoughts were for the safety of myself and the others in the village. Then you confessed your lapse of control and begged my forgiveness. As if I could ever hold anger toward you, my dearest student,” He slowly lowered Genji’s hands from his forehead, gently resting them down in his lap, but couldn’t seem to let Genji go. “Your selflessness and bravery are something to be lauded, and I am so proud of you for that. However…”

A glitch crackled through Zenyatta’s vocal processors that sounded alarmingly like someone choking back a sob. Genji leaned forward and held tighter to Zenyatta’s hands.

“…However, I wish you would keep at least a small portion of that concern for yourself and your well-being. When I found you half-buried in the snow, cold and still…it frightened me. I was afraid. For one terrible moment, I was certain that you had left this world to pass into the Iris.”

Genji stared at him. In all the years he’d spent with Zenyatta, he’d never seen the cool and collected omnic frightened. Distressed, maybe. Sorrowful. Irritated, even. But never afraid.

“I am eternally grateful that I was able to interface directly with your cybernetics and recharge your internal processors,” he continued softly. “Your system even allowed me brief access to your internal diagnostics, which let me see how close you came to…to…”

He trailed off, unable to continue as he was overcome with emotion. Genji broke out of his shock and threw himself forward to embrace Zenyatta. Tears burned at his eyes and he let them spill, running down his scarred cheeks to fall onto Zen’s chestplate.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Master,” he wept. “I didn’t want…I didn’t mean…”

“I know, Genji,” Zenyatta tenderly wrapped his arms around his student, steel resting against carbon fiber, and cradled the back of his head with one hand, pulling him close. “I forgive you.”

That was too much. Genji broke down into sobs of grief, regret, and relief, clinging to his Master for support. He was vaguely aware of Zenyatta’s orbs circling around the both of them, chiming harmoniously. He melted into his embrace, sinking into Zenyatta’s lap, and cried himself out. It felt like hours before he finally let out a shaky breath and felt himself relax while the monk gently wiped away his tears.

Hell. Getting emotional was exhausting.

He remained in Zenyatta’s embrace, letting his mind drift into a pleasant haze, aided by the gentle song of Zen’s orbs and the cool caress of metal fingertips. He was on the cusp of falling asleep when Zenyatta’s voice roused him.

“Genji? Are you asleep?”

His eyes fluttered open, though he made no attempt to move.

“…I am here.”

Zen’s lap was more comfortable than it had any right to be. It was genuinely surprising, the more he thought about it. Logically, Genji knew Zen’s legs were hard steel underneath those loose pants, but he was just as comfortable here as he was curled up on his bed.

“Forgive me from denying you the rest you need, but will you do me the honor of allowing me to ask the question that has been consuming me ever since you awoke?”

Genji needed a moment to navigate through the confusingly worded question.

“…Of course, Master.”

“How are you feeling?”

He couldn’t help himself; Genji broke into a startled laugh and finally pulled himself up, sitting back on his mattress on the floor.

“You ask me that question after all…” he gestured vaguely, not quite sure what even he was getting at himself. “Master, that is a very simple question with a very complicated answer.”

“The most interesting kind of question,” Zenyatta agreed.

Genji sighed, but smiled fondly as he considered how to answer.

“I think…I am not fine. But I will be.”

Zenyatta inclined his head thoughtfully.

“A wise answer, but perhaps I should rephrase my question: Do you need medical attention?”

“Oh.”

Did he? He felt fine, but that didn’t always mean anything these days. He was fairly limited on what he could feel inside himself anymore, and he did just have a near-death experience… He picked up his visor from where it had been set beside the bed and put it on, calling up his internal diagnostics with a thought. He scanned through the system report that scrolled across the visor HUD. Shit. Zen was right. He’d had one hell of a close call. Core temperature had dropped to critical levels, his SpO2 had fallen below 70%, and his heart had just started an arrhythmic pattern when Zenyatta had rebooted his cybernetics. After that, his readings all seemed to normalize and remain that way.

“No,” he finally said decisively. “It seems I was dying because my life support was disabled and when you reactivated it I…well…stopped dying.”

He bowed his head.

“Thank you, Master. It appears you have saved me once again.”

“I will confess that I prefer to be responsible for your spiritual salvation over your continued mortal existence,” Zen said. “It’s far less terrifying and employs a great deal more meditation and tea, which is more preferable to bandages and emergency hotwiring. But you are most welcome.”

Genji stopped.

Wait.

“Hotwiring?” Genji asked.

“Ah…” Zenyatta actually sounded embarrassed. “I may have perhaps exaggerated the ease of which I was to able interface your cybernetics to my mainframe. I was forced to utilize…creative methods to allow me access to your remarkably well protected systems, both hardware and software.”

“Are you saying you hotwired me like a stolen car?” Genji asked, sure he was supposed to feel violated, but instead feeling rather impressed.

“I assure you,” Zen said with that absolute calm confidence that Genji had grown to love. “that I would only steal the most luxurious of cars. Only the finest deluxe models.”

“Well, then it had better be sleek.”

“Absolutely. Very streamlined.”

“And stylish.”

“Oh, unquestionably stylish. Very sporty, too. Fit and trim.”

“Now you’re just flattering me.”

“You? I thought we were discussing automobiles and the criminal element.”

Genji laughed, his heart a little lighter already, but he could feel exhaustion rising up to meet him once again.

“Rest,” Zenyatta said, sensing Genji’s fatigue and urged him to lie back on the bed. “We can discuss more once you awaken next.”

“Thank you,” Genji said and curled up on his mattress. Zenyatta laid a thick quilt over him, the same blanket he’d been blindly searching for when he first awoke.

“You are most welcome, my dearest student. I will be here when you wake.”

On that reassuring promise, Genji let himself drift into sleep once more, calm and gentle as falling snow.

[stareiiez]

Fate’s Funny

Soulmate Prompt Fics

#3 First Words

Pairing:Maine x Male Reader

I swear to god I’d imagine his words to be written as “ ASGHSFTHVA” like keyboard smashing on his male s/o’s wrists.  

At the age of twelve did that small burning sensation ride high up upon your wrist. It shed a small golden light that scrawled messily and blocky on your skin. You had gotten your soulmate’s words just at the time everyone else did in your grade, except what stood out was not the black style of writing but what was written. At first, you thought it was some foreign language that your soulmate spoke, but your teacher had denied that it wasn’t any specific language that no one in the world spoke. Although among the jumbled up words there stood out amongst the blocky lettering. ‘Watch’,’back’, ‘no!’ and ‘wow’ were the only words you could understand,The whole dialogue nearly moves up to the inside of your elbow but it didn’t bother you much because that overjoyed thought of having a soulmate was too much overwhelming that it nearly sent you into a laughing mess.

While you were nearly trying to calm down your nerves, a certain bald-headed boy was wincing ever so slightly from the burning sensation on his bare arm He quickly drew back the sleeve of his long sleeve white shirt and peered at the words that were scrawled magically on his skin, the blinding golden light that was emitted off his skin caused him to squint and bling rapidly once the light died down. Once it did the words sent his heart to scatter in a new rhythmic beat “You don’t always do this sort of thing, do you?” What could that possibly mean? Was he asking his soulmate out? Try and do something new?  Shaking his head his gaze never wavered from his pale skin, his eyes dancing over the words with silent glee before he fist pumped the air. A shout of pure happiness emitted from him, a few people walking down the street cast the boy weird looks but they always did. By the way, he looked and how he was always dirt. He wasn’t homeless but he never claimed himself a home, he ran away from adopting ever since he could remember and he never knew his parents but that never stopped him. Nor would it cast any darkness on his life, not now since he just acquired his first soulmate. His life was going to be good and perfect from now on.

Fast forward a few years down the timeline. Puberty has gone and hit both of you like a red hot speeding bullet and now you’re both full grown. Late teen years of 18 or 19 were something that was fast-paced and filled with chasing after girls and college scholarships right? Wrong. Your life was on the fast track to 4 am, or 5 am, boot camp drills by your superior. Learning how to fight to survive and fight in order to live another day. Dodging bullets and taking routine visits to the medical center when you got the absolute shit beat out of you every time you had slowed down your team. Now those hell filled years of your stupid decision to join the army, instead of college, landed you on a one-way ride to space. You, the one person that could have stayed on earth and switch to the Navy Seals or the Airforce, was chosen to get your army life its finishing ‘polish’ by being a space marine. As crazy as it sounded in your head, and the images of you fighting aliens didn’t help much either, you decided to throw fate to the oxygenless heavens and got on the next pelican off of Earth. Of course, you weren’t the only idiot that took a trip up into space to never see Earth again. There on your ride, you met your soon to be teammates York, North and South Dakota. Each had their own story of why they came here, York’s was the cheesiest of it all. He came here because of some girl that charmed him into being recruited to be a hacker for the Project. You? You had no story, none whatsoever, but what you did manage to give up some excuse as to why you joined was that you felt like some God, or your soulmate, was drawing you up into the stars. Little did you know that your story was no lie.

Your other half had been recruited to the Project for a few months that almost bled into a year now. Him, Carolina, and CT were the first freelancers aboard the ship and they were close to the director until that leaderboard came around. He felt no magnetic pull to Earth like you did to space. Once the pelican had boarded in Mother of Invention, all three agents decked out in armor went to the boarding bay to greet their new soldiers. It was after you walked off the ramp after York and caught sight of the three agents standing to the side that the words on your arm tingled. Maybe it was your imagination but you quickly shook that good feeling tingle off. You absently tugged your long sleeve so it could cover your soulmate mark, there was time for that later.It was time to buckle down and show the world what your years of hell really could pay off for. Pulling up your ‘big boy boxers’ you walked up to the three agents with Noth, South, and York at your heels. Sticking out your hand for a handshake you eyes made contact with the golden and white visor of Agent Maine, yet you stood in front of Carolina. Your gaze broke once she grasped your hand firmly.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N) I look forward to fighting with you.”

That no longer nervous rookie you were has shed its skin and in you stood as a dedicated agent to the Project. Your rookie spot was filled by a new friendly face, Agent Washington, a spunky little teen who was given all the shit that was once intended for you but was never given. Teammates weren’t teammates but family, although you and Maine weren’t brothers. You were distant and cold to each other. Neither of you talked to each other but nodded in recognition, it didn’t bother you much. After all, Wash had told you that Maine was mute, or selective mute, which meant he couldn’t talk much anyway. Whatever it meant it seemed to draw the words you wanted to say to him back in your throat and stuff them back into the pit of your belly/

The blare of the alarm had you scrambling for armor pieces and your helmet in your room before you were making a beeline out of your room and into the mission room. You weren’t the last one there since the director and the counselor and yet to arrive but the glare you knew Carolina sent you was enough to show that you were indeed tardy. Shrugging off her look you turned to take a stand next to Maine and Wash. The mission briefing was simple once the Director and Counselor had finally shown their faces to their agents. Of course, it involved that sketchy A.I sarcophagous the whole mission nearly made your eyes rolls and your senses wary about the situation, but the excitement Maine got for fighting was enough to bring a grin to your face.

“Then its settled, Team A will consist of me, York, Wash, Maine, and Agent (your state). North, Wyoming and C.T will be on Team B.” Carolina spoke up loud enough to grab your attention and help you ground back to reality. Right, the mission.

Nodding along you cast a look at the smug looking director and his long lost puppy like Counselor. Their attitudes brought down your mood into bitterness, you never liked them. Not after this whole race for ‘the holographic little men’. as Wash called it, had turned the two into something different Then again you never trusted them in the first place. The ship and the missions reeked with something fishy and it definitely wasn’t the mess hall food that was for sure. “Bastards.” You muttered under your breath before Wash nudged you gently.

“What?” He tilted his head while your group turned to leave and start the mission.

“It was nothing, let’s just get this over with.” You mumbled under your breath once again, as your retreating form was followed by a confused Washington. Your name repeated off his lips as a beckoning call for you to slow down.

The ride there in the pelican wasn’t silent but not loud either. The only one talking was Carolina up in the front with 479er as she was going over the plan with North. Where their drop off and extraction points would be, it was all the usual chatter to you. Eyes closed behind your golden colored visor you were gathering your nerves and holding them at bay. You hummed as you counted the number of inhales and exhales you took. Maine was sitting across from you, his grey eyes were trained on her still form that was nestled in your seat against the safety bar. It looked like you were asleep, but in reality, you were preparing yourself for battle. Preparing yourself to fight for survival and make it in time for a ride home. His fingers itched with the need to unlock his bar and move over to sit next to you instead of between North and York. His shoulders hunched in defeat before his head rested on the cold black bar of his safety bar.

“Thanks, Team B we won’t need it.”

Carolina said before 479er swerved her pelican away from the other’s and went towards the towering skyscraper. Its windows glinting a richer shade of gold with orange mixed in, it nearly outmatched York’s golden dull armor. The rear pelican doors open as the safety bars opened, just at the same time, your eyes flashed open. You stretched, bones popping lazily as a content sigh slipped past your lips. Carolina descended off the ramp and landed flat-footed outside the parking garage. It was going to be one hell of a run to get up to the roof, or even to the room where the sarcophagus would be. Grabbing your SMG that was hanging on your armor clips, your team had started to start its hell of a sprint up flights of stairs. The occasional sound of guns firing until silence followed could be heard every three minutes.

“This should be it if it’s not I’m going to blow my brains out.” You chuckled as Wash whined huskily. His breathing winded while he finally took the last steps into the room.

Your hand snapped up to hush him, while your eyes scanned every kind of weapon that was laying about on the table. Weapons you’ve never even seen yet looked all the more deadly. Your head tilted to the side to signal him to look over at Maine, right now he was looking at every kind of weapon on the table. His weight shifting from his toes to heels until his hand lashed out to pick up an unusually shaped weapon. One that could be described as a ‘knifle’ but instead it was a brute shot.

“That’s a good look,” Wash commented once he saw how Maine posed with it at his weight, his eyes trained on his new toy.His head tilted over to you and a string of noises that sounded like gibberish left his mouth.

You held up a hand in a thumbs up before a smirk curled on your lips. Your confirmation nearly brought a smile on Maine’s face while he strutted off.

The entire mission had passed by in a blur. From Maine being kicked out the window by Carolina in order for the sarcophagus to head up to Yor, who was poised on the roof. Diving off the roof with the wind screaming in your ears seemed to go by slower, than the high-speed chase in a warthog that Maine stole. You were clinging on to the gun turret while Carolina had managed to land perfectly on York’s lap, it was an awkward moment between the two until she managed to move off of him and instead take the option of running beside the warthog.

Nothing was ever calm in your life not even for a moment as the skyscraper blew up behind your shoulders and enticed the chase of Insurrectionists. They followed once your group had captured the briefcase after Maine had beheaded the man who possessed it. Gunshots rang out, which only got answered by your own red-hot bullets that struck semi-trucks and cars. Many blew up and some hit the soldiers that flew around on jetpacks. Your heart nearly dropped with Maine getting shot once by a sniper, but the huge brute could never fall easily.

“(Y/N)! Get up there and help Maine, Carolina and I will ward these guys off.” York yelled as the warthog slammed hard on to the truck bed of the semi Maine stood upon.

A loud growl and an outstretched hand pulled you on to the flatbed of the vehicle only for you to be nearly struck off once a boot came in contact with the side of your head.

“Watch.. back-” was the first words you heard from your teammate. A chord in your heart strung with recognition. Soulmate words nearly caused you to jump to conclusions, way too fast. Maybe it was a coincidence. Two Insurrectionists were accompanying you both as York stomped on the brake and faded from your sight along with Carolina. Two on two was easy, you and Maine could handle this. Although being shot once and thrown off a building took a lot out of a soldier of Maine’s caliber.

“Come on you asshole.” You growled while a knife twirled in your fingers and sank past muscle and bone on the Insurrectionist’s chest. “Die already!” You growled out past clenched teeth that nearly ached as much as your side.

Breathing hurt since the soldier managed to kick you in the side once you were knocked down on your knees from the blow to the head. Your knife twisted deeper into his chest before a grunt erupted from Maine. A bullet rang out and sunk hard between your shoulder blades and thigh. Pain caused your grip to falter and slip from the one you were fighting.”No!” A split of a second later and more bullets rang out, yet instead of hitting you it sunk into Maine. Blood rained down from his throat and stained his white armor a dark bloody crimson. You reacted quickly and kicked the male with the knife in the chest off the truck, while your hand pulled off Maine’s knifle from his back. One strong throw and the blade ended up stuck in the man’s stomach. Bullseye.

You breathed out a side of relief before York’s warthog crashed back into the side of the semi-truck with the intention to throw the Insurrectionist off. You and Maine were sent scrambling to the highway, but your reflexes were quick enough to cling to the brute and slide him out of the way from any oncoming traffic. The briefcase was long ago snatched from Maine’s grip by Carolina while in you four were in the warthog. Sparks flew past your dented helmet visor as you went under vehicles and miraculously didn’t get killed by pitch black tires. When you stopped skidding, you didn’t know. The kick to the head and the bullets must have done a number to your thought process because it felt like your body was floating off the ground and shielded in a bright light and dim voices.

Heaven was supposed to be white and full of angels with some God looking at you with a smile on his/her face. Then why were you laying on a steel bed with white blankets draped over your body? Machines beeped and a body stirred beside you. Maine. You tilted your head and your gaze widened at the sight of his tree trunk-like neck wrapped heavily in gaze while his silver-hued eyes flashed open. His mouth opened and tried to utter out your name, except it came out broken and fast.

“You don’t do this sort of thing do you?” Waving to the situation you were in with IVs feeding into your arms and bandaged peppered on your back and thigh. Saving someone wasn’t one thing you saw Maine ever do, he must be new to this. He did it without hesitation, yet it felt like he was brushing off the gesture with a roll of his eyes.

Then they flew open wider and he glanced at his arm. The words that were scrawled on his forearm burned with a sign that you just said for your first time of ever speaking. His gaze was directed to his bare arm before they bounced over to your own. Blankets couldn’t hide the black ink scrawled on your forearm with an IV nearly hiding his last word.

“Wow.” Maine sighed out airly before his gaze was directed onto your face. Your jaw set before your adam’s apple bobbed up and down from your nerves.Soulmates. He was your soulmate.

Before you knew it a smile curled up on your lips before you pushed yourself into a sitting position. His eyes never left your form, but they held a new light to watch your posture. Pure amazement, interest, and maybe love. God, he always admired your hard work as a soldier but he never knew he admired you that much to have fate set him up with someone this close in person.

You let out a laugh, eyes crinkling as your smile spread in that medbay room. Fate was funny with fucking up your life, but maybe it did one good thing after all. You laughed so hard with relief and a new found of emotion that it nearly hurt your stomach. The laughter that turned Maine’s face to hold a grin even if moving an inch hurt, he would still move enough to smile or watch you in that bed.

“Yeah, wow is right… Soulmate.”

“Sou- ma-” Maine responded before a hiss left his lips. It sounded like a chuckle and it must have been the way Maine’s demeanor changed.

Fate was funny, but it sure as hell was on your side now. Hopefully from now on too.