#A loyal guard dog fanfic

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

13 — THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS BAD THOUGHTS, ONLY YOUR ACTIONS TALK

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad. fanfic playlist.

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You’d, somehow, forgotten just how… vibrant two of your oldest friends were.

With the blades of the helicopter still spinning, the deafening sound of aircrafts around you, and a steady mist of rain, your body collides with another.

“Oi, watch it!” You exclaim, a beaming smile stretched over your features as the bulky, oblivious man squeezes his arms around your torso and buries his head into your neck. “You smell like gunpowder. And your fiancée.”

His voice comes out muffled against your skin. “And you smell like cheap body wash.”

He squeezes you once more before finally letting you go, his dimples deep and hair soggy with rain. You study his features, the sharpness of his jaw and the dusting of brunette against it. Him. One of your oldest friends in the military.

He looses a breath, eyes meeting yours and his hands falling to your shoulders, a comforting weight. You don’t have any words, can’t find them, so all that leaves your lips is a single name.

“Alex,” you whisper, voice breaking in the middle, heart a sore throb in your chest.

The storm clouds above paint the world around you in harsh greys and physical manifestations of sadness – but in it all, your light has arrived. 

And how powerful it is.

“Moonflower!” A deeply familiar, feminine voice shouts, and you spread your arms wide and accept the body that crashes against your own. Your laugh is startled and pure, but relief and serotonin floods your system as warm as the embrace you’re surrounded in.

You’d found solace and even a home in your solitude, your loneliness, but now? 

Now, with the only two people in your life that have remained by your side, no matter the distance, holding you in their embrace?

It feels like family, even if you know there isn’t a space between the two of them for you to fit in – no crevice large enough for you to ever comfortably merge.

A foster family, maybe. Or a found one, however tenuous and distant.

“I missed you both so much,” you murmur, voice cracking slightly. You clear your throat, inhaling a trembling breath as you squeeze your eyes shut and rest your face in the crook of her neck. She smells of an odd mixture of her usual perfume, and Alex’s cologne.

You wonder if you’ll still have enough limbs attached to get to their wedding, by the time everything has been dealt with.

If you’ll even have a head attached.

It’s a small eternity (or maybe a few seconds, or maybe a few years) until she pulls away, a glint in her eyes that seems a concoction of pity and strength.

“You look stunning, Farah,” you grin, and your cheeks burn with the odd sensation of joy.

She crinkles her nose, dark stray hairs flying across her face from the continuing wind of both winter and the helicopter. Her skin glows with health – and you realise, then, how even with the stress of reconstructing a nation, she’s happy. Honest and unrepentant and golden. A survivor of war, but a survivor nonetheless.

Raising a brow, she returns, “You look like shit.”

A chuckle leaves your throat, the familiarity that is Farah’s honesty akin to a hot chocolate and a blanket wrapped around a freezing frame.

“You look like you’ve been injured,” Alex adds, a small wince gracing his features. He’s miraculously found himself once more at Farah’s side, not unlike a loyal guard dog. 

A guard dog guarding a lion, maybe, but a guard dog nonetheless.

“Unlike you two,” you chastise, folding your arms and burying your cold hands in the space between your bicep and breasts, “I’m at war.”

“With the guy we warned you about,” Farah raises her brow, voice acidic and biting. “The guy we told you was going to ruin your life?”

“There’s a difference between ruining my life, and quite literally ruining my life,” you counter, watching a cloud of breath hang in the air, chilled by the evening cold, before dissipating into the breeze.

“He can continue ruining your life inside,” Alex cuts in, a hand falling against the dip of Farah’s spine, and the other moving to rest between your shoulder blades. He applies just enough pressure to be convincing, but not demanding.

It may as well be a demand, however, with how weak your mindscape seems to be in the face of comfort and familiarity. 

The base seems small, even with the short distance, a reminder of how self-contained and cataclysmic your life has become (has always been). It’s well past eight, now, and with the winter hours it’s almost pitch black already. A few stars decorate the black landscape, this far out from most light pollution. Your eyes stray to the glistening balls of flame, and you wonder if someday soon you’ll find yourself amongst them.

Two duffel bags hang off of Alex’s shoulder, and it sparks your interest. 

“How long are you two planning to stay?” You ask, as if they’re merely old friends staying for a weekend, catching up over bottles of wine and damaged decks of cards. 

They both shrug, almost in sync. Your heart thunders in your chest at the small display of how attuned they are with each other – how in love. It’s Farah who answers, simply, “However long it will take.”

When you look down to your boots, ripples of water against sleek concrete cascading beneath each footfall, it’s merely to hide the stretch of a smile that braces your chapped lips. Your voice is small, uncharacteristically vulnerable, when you mutter to the ground, “Thank you.”

“We owe you, hell, we owe you more than a dozen lifetimes for what you’ve done for us,” Alex scoffs, the gratitude rolling off of him unlike the rain soaking his long-sleeved v-neck. 

“Let’s just call this even, then,” you retort, lifting your head once more, allowing them both to see the softened curve of your mouth, the gentle slope of your brows.

The rain has paused its pouring, but a whole other kind of thunderstorm awaits the three of you in the entry of the base.

When you’d called Farah and Alex – just two nights ago, mere minutes after finishing your meal with Ghost and Soap – you hadn’t spared many details about Graves. You’d told them of your betrayal, of your thoughts, of the adrenaline rush that was that last fight with him.

What you hadn’t disclosed was your increasingly peculiar arrangement with the 141. Or your tryst with Gaz. Or your mess of feelings, as a whole.

So, really, you hadn’t told them much in the realm of everything.

Now, seeing the outline of four starkly familiar profiles, waiting underneath the small awning above the entrance to the base, you regret leaving such vital pieces of information out of your hours-long call.

“This is the one first impression you don’t want to fuck up,” is all you manage to grate out to the two beside you, before you fall into hearing distance of the very imposing image the 141 has managed to portray. Sometimes, you forget how genuinely daunting the four men are, with the different lights you’ve seen them in.

This is not one of those times.

As soon as the light sitting at the door shines against the three of you, Soap startles forward, clad in only a tight-fitting grey shirt, with a hefty leather jacket in his grip. When he reaches you, not even glancing at the newcomers, he pulls the jacket over your shoulders, warm and gun-rough hands brushing the soft skin of your neck as he does so.

“Impatient, lass, runnin’ off into the rain without any feckin’ layers,” he reprimands, without any bite at all.

You’re stumped, for a moment, before shaking your head lightly and stepping away from the utterly confusing man. With a dramatic flourish of a hand gesture, you motion towards your left. 

Thankfully, Soap hadn’t met you too far out, so it only takes a few steps before you’re standing before the other three. A healthy dose of scepticism and tension fills the air between you all, and while you could certainly do without it, it still stings.

Just as you’re about to introduce everyone, despite Soap’s oddly rude behaviour, Price interrupts.

“Bloody hell, small world, ain’t it?” He chuckles, throaty and pleased, muscle-corded arms folded over his chest. His smile is like a beam in the dark of night.

“Thought it’d be a nice surprise, old man,” Farah returns, bringing out her hand for him to shake with a firm grip, both comfortable and at ease in each other’s presence. When Farah goes to pull away, however, Price stops her from doing so with wide eyes, laser-focused on her ring-adorned finger.

“Well I’ll be damned, Alex, how’d you convince her to deal with your arse for eternity?” Price teases, and while you expect the younger man to hit back, he simply beams.

The three seem to be in their own little world, with you, Soap, Gaz and Ghost being left with raised brows. 

“Oh, sorry, guys,” Alex raises a hand, having the decency to look sheepish. His eyes trail along the 141 warily, before meeting your own eyes, relaxing slightly under your gaze. He seems reluctant to break the contact, but does so nonetheless, words directed at the 141 as he says, “Price is an old friend.”

Farah and Price break their quiet conversation, directing their attention back to the group at large. It’s quiet, for a moment, which is a blessing considering the large personalities at hand.

You’re the one to break it.

“Well,” you start, a sudden burst of anxiety sparking in your stomach – you hadn’t considered the merging of your two lives, of past and present, the clashing of…

Oh. God.

Oh God. Oh God, you had almost forgotten that, but if you had, maybe they did, too? Yes. Definitely. It’ll be fine.

(It won’t be fine, you’re more certain, but a little lie to yourself can’t hurt. Much.)

You continue, not a breath out of place despite your internal thoughts, “Farah, Alex, meet the 141.”

Gesturing to the four men, meeting all of their eyes, you then gesture to the other two. “Guys, meet Farah and Alex.”

Silence fills the space between you all for a mere moment – just past a second, really – but it’s damning and heavy all the same. It has your chest tightening and your throat constricting, not unlike a thread of rope being pulled taut around the curve of your neck. 

“Thank you for taking care of her,” Farah says, voice steady and calculated. Defensive, really.

Gaz’s eyes narrow, his voice perfectly even and sickly sweet as he responds, “I can promise you, the last thing Sweetheart needs is to be taken care of.”

It’s… tense.

You’d, of course, expected that it would take some time for Farah and Alex to become anything close to friendly with the 141, but this feels different. A kind of static alights the air, a live wire sensitive to any spark that will instantly set it aflame.

“It’s good to see you again too, mate,” Alex smiles, but a sharp edge lines the curve of his lips. His eyes meet Gaz’s, and they don’t stray.

With a tight smile, Gaz responds, “Likewise.”

Ghost stands farthest from the group, a haunting spectre, shrouded in shadows with his arms folded over his chest and his hip resting against the wall. It’s impossible to see where, exactly, his eyes are trained – but you know they rest on you nonetheless.

Soap’s jacket remains a comforting weight on your shoulders, and although you’re loath to admit it even to yourself, it is miles better than the thin top you’d braved. He’s standing closest to you, on your right, posture straightened and imposing. He exudes a kind of energy you haven’t felt from him before, the closest being when you’d been separated from him post-surgery, maybe.

“Let’s have some tea, maybe, in the common room?” You ask, but it’s not really a request. Your tone is thick with insistence and command, and no one is in a place to deny you.

By the time you all make it to the common room – Alex and Farah comfortably speaking with Price, and you walking silently with Gaz, Ghost and Soap. The latter, especially, remaining a close presence at your side.

A few candles are lit against the windowsill, and a singular lamp sat against the large couch has been lit. No need for the blinding white light of the ceiling – just comfort and familiarity.

It feels at odds with the terse energy at hand, but simultaneously, a blessing.

Alex immediately takes a seat on the far right of the couch, at ease with himself and his surroundings. Gaz sits on the far left, leaving two spots between them. Without a word, Soap’s hand finds your lower back, and he virtually pulls you with him to sit between the two men. 

You find yourself stuck between Alex and Soap, with Ghost, Price and Farah more than happy to stand. Even if there was space, you doubt they’d choose to take a seat.

“We need to find out what Shepherd’s up to,” you speak, breaking the small talk between Price and Farah, as well as between Gaz and Soap. The room falls silent immediately. “And we need to find out what actually happened to my mother.”

The silence continues, and you find yourself pulling the leather jacket tighter around your frame – finding solace in the heat of the two men at either side of you. Your past and your present, both there, both helping.

It’s, surprisingly, Ghost who answers the sentiment first. 

“We’re at your disposal,” he simply says, as if it’s ever that simple. Maybe it can be, maybe it will be, with the powerhouse of a group that’s surrounding you now, with all of your history and feelings and sentiments. 

You can feel the seeds of hope in your chest begin to blossom, begin to shine underneath the rays of sunlight that are Ghost’s words.

“Are,” you roll your tongue in your mouth, feeling the words out before you speak them, “Are you all ready and willing to do this? Because if you’re not, I’m going to get the job done myself.”

It’s true, suicide mission or not. 

“Yer outta yer feckin’ mind if ya think we’re leavin’ ya behind now,” Soap scoffs, relaxing further into the couch as he throws his arm up and around the back of the couch, hand skimming your left shoulder. His thigh presses against your right one.

“You’re stuck with us now, Sweetheart,” Price shrugs, hands in his pockets.

Murmurings of agreement and similar sentiments echo around the group, and you find yourself exhaling such a deep breath that you’re sure it expels some decade-old air that had been stuck in the crevices of your lungs. 

“Hold on,” Farah raises her hand, brows furrowing as her other fist rests at her bucked hip. “What’s this whole Sweetheart thing about?”

Soap’s hand finds the nape of your neck, brushing away your hair to rest a firm grip around the warmed skin. Your heart skips a beat in your chest, and another when he responds, “Simple, aye? She’s a Sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s impossible to quell the growing grin that’s creeping onto your face. “This idiot,” you nod towards the Scot at your side, “Was bleeding out. Gave him some sweetheart lollies to help with the blood loss, and, well, here we are.”

“Here we are,” he echoes, his eyes trained on your profile. When you meet his eyes, for a mere second, it feels like an electric shock.

Alex, on your other side, glances at you through the corner of his eyes with a hint of conspiracy. He leans in, mouth just a hair away from your ear, when he asks, “Which one of them are you fucking? Or have they all tumbled into your bed?”

Your elbow to his side is more a knee-jerk reaction to his words than anything, but you’re at least decent enough to wince at his groan of pain. He clutches his side like he’s been shot on the field, head falling to rest against your chest with dramatic flourish. Both Gaz and Soap start, as if about to physically restrain the man, and your unamused gaze immediately finds the Sergeants.

What the actual fuck is up with everyone?

“Not a jealous woman, are you, Farah?” Ghost chimes, voice guttural where he stands just to your left, by the arm of the couch. You can’t say you’d forgotten his presence – even with his silence, it’s a tangible, physical weight on your shoulders – but it still startles you when he speaks.

Farah’s easy smile turns into a cryptic smirk instantaneously, and, fuck.

Maybe, very possibly, most likely definitely: they remembered. Or, at least, Farah did.

Fuck.

You suppose it’s not really a thing you forget, unless your mind’s an overfilled storage room of memories and current events and problems. Which yours most definitely is, and of which theirs is likely not.

“Can’t say I am. Not the first time they’ve gotten handsy,” she shrugs, as if it’s an obvious statement.

As if the room hasn’t instantly dropped approximately ten degrees, and your heart stops where it should be thrumming in your chest.

It’s almost funny, how you instantly train your attention to Gaz. How your mind immediately fears his expression, his reaction to such a thinly veiled sentiment.

What you see is the instant rising of walls, the shuttering of his eyes, and the stiffening of his frame.

You wonder how many missed heartbeats it takes to constitute a heart attack.

“Old fling, were they?” Price asks, because, really, of course he does. When you look to him, he deliberately keeps his gaze on Farah, not giving you a single glance. It’s not jealousy, you know, because it’s Price, and he, in no capacity, holds any such feelings towards you. But it’s something damning nonetheless.

Alex, oblivious idiot that he is, finally pulls his head back up with a sharp laugh. If you didn’t know him, you’d think it was malicious. “Nah. Just thought some experimentation with an extra partner would be fun, and, hey, she is pretty damn hot.”

“You’re a dickhead,” you chastise, suddenly aware of all the points that you and Alex touch – all the points that you and Soap touch. 

“Didn’t realise ye were into that,” Soap bites, abruptly, tone sharp and acrid. You barely suppress a shiver at the shift in the man’s attitude, in comparison to his usually jovial and good-natured attitude. 

“Didn’t realise you were into kink-shaming, either,” you retort, almost startling at your own defensiveness.

Ghost’s hum feels like a reprimand, akin to an owner using a dog whistle on their trusted border collie, or a dominatrix snapping her whip. 

“I don’t think threesomes are a kink?” Alex’s statement ends in a question, a confused look settling over his features. “Like, polyamory definitely isn’t, but what about one-offs? Babe, do you know?”

Farah doesn’t answer, not for a long while. Entirely too aware of the tension filling the room, of the dangerous game she’s about to partake in. The one Alex started, likely unknowingly, but started nonetheless.

“No. It’s not kink. But some of what we did was.”

For, well, not the first time in your life (or even the last week, really), but pretty darn close to it, you consider storming into the weapon supplies and shooting yourself.

“Well!” You exclaim, nervous laughter following the statement, palms clammy where you wipe them against your pants, “Farah, Alex, you probably need some rest, y’know, after your flight. I certainly need it.”

Standing before you even realise you are, you move to get the hell out of there, when Soap’s hand wraps around your wrist, and tugs you back down to sit even closer against him. When Alex’s hand finds your shoulder, you realise distantly that this must be a kind of tug of war. Or piggy in the middle.

Potato, patata. You’re the bait either way.

“The night’s still young,” Price cuts in, and everyone around you seems to nod. “Unless you’re uncomfortable, Sweetheart,” he adds, and the genuinity beneath his words turns into a threat of your pride in your head.

“I’m fine,” you straighten your shoulders, set your nerves. “Just looking out for my friends.”

It’s a lie. You know it, Ghost most likely does, too, and you can only hope that everyone else is ignorant to that small fact.

Subconsciously, you find your attention drifting to Gaz once more.

He hasn’t spoken, you realise, not since Alex had said that. When he catches you watching his profile, lit by the lamp, the candles – he meets your eyes. Not for longer than a second, or half of one, you’re sure, but it hits you like a bullet. When he instantly looks away, you can’t help the sudden anger that stokes the flames in your stomach.

It’s not as if you were openly flirting with either Alex or Farah, and even then, who was he to be mad? You’d been together once, for God’s sake – not for a single moment since. Long days of work and stress and training made the comfort of his bed simply that.

And even then, even then, you were in no way official. Not in any semblance of the word, not with the stakes of the mission at hand, the risk that came with such relationships.

His response gives you half a mind to play up your past on purpose. You won’t, but the urge is definitely there.

It’s not silent, thank god. Alex, Price and Farah have continued a previous conversation, Ghost is silent and brooding, and…

“Didnae pick ye as promiscuous,” Soap states, fiercely meeting your eyes with a swirling of emotions visible within his own. He says the words like they’re poison on his tongue, and, fuck, you’re close to breaking point.

Your responding smile is nothing short of mocking. “Calling me a slut is less wordy, don’t you think?”

“Dinnae put words into my bloody mouth,” Soap seethes, leaning in further to your space, the scent of his cologne invading your senses. You hate how confused it all makes you feel, how unsure of your emotions and goddamn attachments.

“Oh, sorry, does the big bad military man want to tell me what such a big word means? If I don’t have the mental capacity to choose how I have sex, I surely can’t understand your wide vocabulary, can I?” You hiss, bending your neck slightly and not backing away from his posturing for even a moment.

“Soap, stop threatening her,” Price barks, and you distantly remember the people around you, the setting, the image the two of you must make.

You remember, and you can’t seem to find a single fuck to give.

“I can fight my own damn battles!” You yell, not sending a single glance Price’s way – eyes completely remaining on darkened blue instead.

“And that’s why ye still got bloody feckin’ bandages, damn bruises –”

“Do not go there with me right now, Johnny, or I swear to fucking god.”

Both of your chests heave, and you’ve forgotten what even sparked this sudden argument, this spiteful back and forth. You haven’t a clue in this moment, and you relish in it.

“She’s a better damn fighter than the lot of you,” Alex interrupts, “Injuries don’t mean shit, ‘specially not when you don’t know what the fuck she’s gone through.”

Soap directs his ire toward the man at your side, voice thick with anger and his accent when he counters, “And ye know ‘er so much better, jus’ cause ye got in ‘er pants? Aye?”

“Because he isn’t acting like a goddamn meathead!” You find yourself fisting your hand into his shirt, pulling him closer to you, faces inches apart.

“‘Nd kissin’ ‘n tellin’ is fine ‘nd dandy,” Soap laughs, without a hint of humour, “Thought ye had standards.”

A lot of things happen in the preceding moment.

You’d like to say you can’t be blamed for any of the actions that occur, but you also know that accountability is a virtue. And you mean to uphold it.

It goes something like this.

The fist that had been wrapped in his shirt pulls back, and instead, collides with his jaw. 

Arms wrap around your chest, caging your arms to your side. Arms, too, wrap around Soap, pulling him away from you. You’re both yelling obscenities, none of which you can name, and you both fight against your restraints. 

You don’t need to have a full frame of mind to know that it’s Alex and Price holding you back, and through the haze of it all, you’re sure it’s Ghost and Farah keeping Soap away.

“Calm the hell down!” Price commands, voice a beam of light in a storm. It brings you back to yourself, but not enough to stem the bleeding of your anger, just enough for you to recognise it.

“Bloody idiot, Johnny, get it together!” Ghost is saying to Soap, standing in front of him and shaking his shoulders as Farah’s arms remain wrapped around his torso, keeping his fists below his waist.

Gaz is nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t fucking speak to be, Johnny, I don’t want to see your face,” you shout, eyes glassy, before you finally ease into Price and Alex’s grips, their own going lax. You shoulder off their arms, before without a word, storming down the corridor.

Your name’s called out after you, ‘Sweetheart’, ‘Moonflower’ – none of it matters. Not past the roaring in your ears, the spite burning in your veins. The pent up energy of an unfinished fight.

Shoving open the door to your – Gaz’s – room, you startle when you see the man himself, standing in the middle of the room, shirt in hand. The only light comes from the window, the full moon high in the sky more than enough light to serve as a lamp. His sweats hang loose on his hips, his muscles bulging but still lithe, more like a gymnast’s build than a wrestler’s.

He’s never looked better.

Whether that’s the adrenaline speaking, or the anger, you don’t know. Don’t care. Not past the need to have his mouth against your own.

It takes all of two seconds before the door slams shut behind you, and you’re shoving Gaz onto the bed, his own groan answer enough. His brown eyes glisten with the moonlight, and his throat dips when he swallows, focus trained on where you tug off that damn leather jacket. your shirt following.

“I don’t want to hear a word from you,” you demand, “Unless it’s yes, no, or please.”

He nods, shaky, voice breaking when he responds, “Yes.”

Kicking off your pants, leaving you standing in only your panties and bra, you move to straddle him. He dutifully remains laid onto the bed, chest heaving in harsh sweeps, mouth slightly open in a mixture of shock and lust.

“Where do you get off,” you breathe, voice heavy with threat as you drag your pointer finger along the length of his throat, before following the line of his collarbone, “Being all moody about who I’ve fucked? What gives you the right?”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, the weakest he’s ever sounded, “Not – I’m not mad, I just. I want you.”

Your hand finds his neck, forming a light grip around it. You haven’t applied any pressure, but his breath hitches at the weight of it, the promise. 

“That sounded like more than one syllable,” you frown, mockingly patronising. You squeeze his neck, not anywhere hard enough to choke, but enough to have him squeezing his eyes shut. “We can talk later.”

He nods, harsh, quick jerks of his head, and the slightly unhinged smile returns to your face.

You hadn’t gotten the fight you’d yearned for, not with Soap, but this is a good enough replacement for that need.

Dragging your hand down his bare chest, you pause when you see scars. Not healed like those from battle, and ones you recognise. Before you can process what it means, Gaz lets out a sharp gasp, and when you look to him, his eyes are wide and.

And scared.

“No, hey, you can speak,” you ramble, and you can feel the flame of rage dim to sparking charcoal. It should be scary, how quickly you find yourself worried for the man, but it’s not. “It’s okay.”

“I should’ve told you,” he immediately breathes, squeezing his eyes shut once more. His head falls back to the bed once more. “I’m.”

He swallows, and you find your hand gravitating to his throat once more – this time, in a soft, soothing caress.

“I’m trans,” he finishes, saying it like one would whisper a secret in a confessional. Your heart stutters in your chest, and it aches, the idea that he’s had lovers who’ve made him feel so awful about his identity.

Your hand moves from his neck to his cheek, thumb brushing underneath his eyes, and they finally flutter open once more.

They soften when they see your smile.

“Thank you for telling me,” you say, voice low and cautious. “If you wanna stop, it’s fine, but,” you shrug, “You’re hot. I still wanna fuck. You might have to show me what feels best, but that’s kinda hot, too.”

“You’re okay with it?” His voice is fragile, shaky, and fuck he’s pretty.

“I’m okay with it,” you echo, sentiment genuine and kind. “Tell me what you want, Kyle.”

His arms remain laid out on the bed at either side of him, his skin still heated with want and need and wanton lust. His voice strengthens when he answers.

“I want you to use me – take it out on me,” he says. “Please.”

And who are you to deny such a request?

author's note. i was veryveryvery close to orphaning or marking as complete. i'm not really in or interested in the COD fandom at all anymore, but, i realised that i also want to see where this story goes? excluding the characters, the actual story and world i've created for sweetheart has me wanting to see it to its end.

that, along with the fans. you guys and your genuine interest and comments have made this project worth it. i can't express enough how much you all mean to me, especially those that comment on every chapter and have been there every step of the way. thank you, thank you, thank you.

i can't promise as efficient and regular updates, but i CAN promise that i plan to finish this story in its entirety.

thank you to those who have stuck around, and thank you for those that continue to do so. you mean the world to me, and the very writing of this fic is owed to you.

(also, if anyone has any feedback on my trans rep and dealing with a trans character, PLEASE lmk. i am in no way perfect, and if i've made a mistake, please tell me so i can fix it and grow as a writer!)

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re @lalashhyl @someonepleasedateme @letmeapologise @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @inarabee @simp-sentral @littlecellist @clear-your-mind-and-dream @browtfyoudoing @oreo-cream @fanngirl19 @infpt-zylith @marispunk @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @xvintageghostx @thigh-o-saur @thriving-n-jiving @callsign-pyro @mmmangel @aisawa-reo @just-pure-trash @silly-norman @annoyingstrawberryballoon @chop-zulyzulyyy

[imagine-to-be-a-pike]

I absolutely hate fanfics that go like "well, Merlin's magic comes out and suddenly all the knights are protecting him and threatening Arthur"

no no no

what is wrong with you

it would go like this

leon would be totally on arthur's side (first of all i would like to remind you that he grew up in the same propaganda as arthur, he was a knight of uther cmon) (secondly i consider them childhood friends and leon is damn loyal)

Elyan would be fucking confused, deep in the middle but he's damn mistrustful of magic (cmon, mate was possessed, let him be traumatized)

Percy is another person in the middle

Gwaine doesn't want to let Merlin get hurt, yes, but he's also furious with him and talks to Arthur all the time

knights are not guard dogs, they are children of divorced parents

(and i said that in all those shitty fanfics, Arthur just stands there or it hurts him that Merlin lied to him BUT NO, EVERY HIS FRIEND TURNS AGAINST HIM AND EVERYONE IS THREATENING HIM, LEAVE HIM ALONE )

I didn't include Lancelot because lol the loser is dead

[evenmyhivemindisempty]

001: The Sandman - 5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon)

002: Rose/Corinthian - Thoughts on them

003: Rose Walker - How you feel about this character

001: The Sandman - 5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon)

Ranked in order of preference:

Corinthian/Rose - I’ll get more into this one below but. Yep. SO HOT

Corinthian/Calliope - Corinthian deserves a better owner than Dream, and there’s something so delightful about him hooking up with his daddy’s ex-wife. (They could bitch about Dream together!) And Call deserves a loyal guard dog!

Hob/Corinthian- love Corinthian being with a human that’s kind of worse than him, in some ways, and Hob being with someone who’s the sort of monster he can’t really understand; love the potential of them being able to make each other a little better, or a lot worse

Dream/Corinthian - I mean, this one’s just the classic! It’s got everything - power dynamics, creator/creation & pseudo-incest, daddy kink, daddy issues… It’s ranked lower as a Corinthian ship just because Dream is a *shitty* owner for Cori in ways that I can really only enjoy occasionally nowadays

Agilieth/Dream - that twenty second interaction was just hot as shit! Agilieth’s mockery mixed with some genuine respect! Dream acknowledging him too! Also, Agilieth: Dream of the Endless commands you - mhm, I bet you’re familiar with that! Let these two deep voiced kings get together 😩

002: Rose/Corinthian

when or if I started shipping it: man, probably the scene where they’re talking in the hotel room and he’s *looming* over her, just a foot taller, easily, and she doesn’t look intimidated at all 🥵 height difference but also tiny badass Rose??

my thoughts: obsessed over them. He was Jed’s protector when he had nobody! He reunited him with his sister! He tried to save Rose’s life, and yeah, it was to protect himself, but I think he actually liked the Walkers, and I think it’s so hot he was so down to make Rose his goddess and the queen of the Dreaming. He acts more genuine with the Walkers than almost anybody else in the show, and I’m crazy over it

What makes me happy about them: that he wants her to seize the power of an Endless! Hot! That he’s genuinely her and Jed’s protector, and he’s *damn good* at it. That he fucked her friend Carl! That thrills me. I desperately want her to find out about that tryst 🤣

What makes me sad about them: that we don’t get to see Rose’s reaction to learning the Corinthian was unmade :(

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: I think Everqueen touched on this a little in her post, but I really don’t like fanfic that makes Rose act like a kid. I do like when she’s allowed to be vulnerable and scared and protected, because im not sure how often she’s been safe enough to really let her defenses down, but she is an adult, and she’s shouldered adult burdens, and she doesn’t need to be *parented* like a kid. I’m also not wild about Rose/Corinthian fics where she’s being victimized by him, or actively scared of him (I think a little fear is both sexy and pretty damn reasonable, considering what the Corinthian is, but I love that Rose doesn’t let the Corinthian push her around in canon, and I want that in my fics too!)

Things I look for in fanfic: really just anything that explores Rose dealing with being involved with a person that’s not really a person, and how that looks. Corinthian being her guard dog, and how she feels about *that* too

My kinks: femdom, gentle domme, Rose arranging men to fuck the Corinthian in front of her, bondage (it’s sexy imagining Corinthian allowing Rose to tie him down or muzzle him tbh! A predator relinquishing control is hot!!)

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: you know, I’m sort of drawn in to Rose/Dream, actually!! He loves storytellers! It’s spicy badwrong because of the familial connection! There was an attempted murder (hot!)! Rose/Johanna could be interesting, too. For Cori, definitely Calliope or Hob.

My happily ever after for them: I love the concept of Rose having recurring sex dreams/fantasies of the Corinthian after the events of season 1, and Corinthian 2.0 noticing and being fascinated by her 😌😌

003: Rose Walker - How you feel about this character

How I feel about this character: I love her!! I love that she has both this cynical weariness to her, but also this intense desire to do good & help the people around her. I love that she’s new to the supernatural world, but not exactly naive, and I love her everyman quality but also her uniqueness?? Her style!! She’s got a great colorful, soft butch aesthetic I’m obsessed with

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Corinthian is really the big one! I don’t hardcore ship her with anyone else, but I’m a little intrigued by Dream/Rose (and Dream/Rose/Corinthian), and Johanna/Rose and Calliope/Rose could be interesting, too

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Gault & Rose would be super interesting! I’d love to see them interact, share stories about Jed, and I love that Gault knows the Corinthian too, and probably has some interesting perspectives for Rose!

My unpopular opinion about this character: i don’t think she’d want Dream as an uncle figure in her life. I’m not sure if she’d necessarily trust him after the way he used her to pull in the Arcana & tried to kill her. I *definitely* don’t think she’d ever ship Dream/Hob

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish we’d seen her reaction to the Corinthian being unmade! I wish we’d gotten to see her learn to wield and play with her dream-bending powers a bit more. I’d love to have seen her meeting Desire, too!

My OTP: Rose/Corinthian!

My OT3: God, I bet Good Doctor/Rose/Corinthian could be really hot in a dark way (or a sad/redemptive way, if this is Good Doctor post-arrest!)

[thisismymidnightwonderland]

Blood Sport - Part 1

A/N this is Chapter 1 of my new fanfic for House Of The Dragon. It will be an Aemond/Velaryon OC. It is loosely based off this drabble I wrote but details have been changed. I really hope you all enjoy it!

All words in italics are high valyrian!

Summary: Viserra Velaryon had always been loyal to her family but when her brothers actions led to the Queen demanding one of Rhaenyra's children return to The Red Keep as a ward, they could have never known that they had sent the Greens their biggest asset. The love she bore for her family was nothing compared to the love she had for the One Eyed Prince.

Controlling dragons was an illusion, it wasn’t like a master and a dog. The bond between dragon and rider was more of an understanding, dragons would obey basic commands but they weren’t rid of free will. Regular people didn’t understand that though, they saw the Targaryens as being closer to Gods than men. They were above certain laws and restrictions that regular men were but really all it was was a cleverly veiled illusion. 

There were of course exemptions to this, most notably Prince Daemon and his bond with his dragon, Caraxes. The dragon being able to understand his rider without the need for words or commands. Another was the Princess Viserra, the dragon egg that had been placed in her crib hatched a few hours after her birth and bonded immediately. Rumours swirled that the young hatchling would screech whenever the Princess did and their bond grew stronger so that by the time Viserra was old enough to begin training in the dragon pit, she ran into no difficulties. 

It was because of this though that she found watching her brothers attempt to train and command their own dragons quite boring. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy being in the dragon pit, she loved it in fact. What she found boring was watching them fail with their training. 

“Viserra look!” Her twin shouted. 

“Very good Jace.” She replied, not lifting her eyes from her book. 

“You’re not even looking.” He complained and instead looked back to Aegon for encouragement. 

“You always have your head buried in a book, if I had a dragon then I would always want to train with them.” Aemond stood over her, casting a shadow over the page she was on. 

“I like reading, and I train with Galbarax. I just don’t like doing it with everyone here. They just complain I’m showing off.”

Aemond sat down next to her and shrugged. “If I ever had a bond like you did with a dragon then all I would do is show off.” 

Viserra liked Aemond, he was always honest with her and never made her feel guilty for having a dragon despite it being a constant source of misery for him.

“What are you reading?” He asked, they both had a shared love of books and had often spent many hours in the library. This had ended more than once with a guard finding them both asleep on the floor surrounded by a pile of books that they had passed the time with. Viserra closed the book and let him read the name of the front cover. “You’ve read that one already, remind me to pick you out something new later. I think I’ve found one that you’d like, it’s about-“

“Aemond!” Aegon’s voice rang out over the dragon pit like a bell, drawing both their attention to him. “Come here we have something for you.” 

Viserra could only sit and watch as they led a fat pig up to Aemond with glee. “Behold the pink dread!” 

Her chest tightened watching her brothers and Aegon torment Aemond about not having his own dragon until he was left standing alone staring down the steps that led to the creatures below. 

“Aemond?” Viserra stepped towards him tentatively. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t mind them, they’re just being stupid. I know you will have a dragon one day.”

“I said I’m fine!” He snapped and before Viserra could stop him, he stormed down the stairs towards the dragons. Viserra didn’t bother to follow him, this was a common occurrence. Aemond would sneak down to try and claim his own dragon, get caught and returned to home where he would be told off by his mother. 

Instead Viserra followed her brothers and Aegon outside, she caught up to them within a few minutes. Aegon was still laughing about ‘the pink dread’ so without thinking, Viserra grasped her book firmly and swung it upwards in the direction of his head. 

“Ow!” Aegon lurched forward, clutching the back of his head. “You bitch! What was that for?”

“You know what that was for. He’s your brother, why must you go out of your way to terrorise him?“

“He’s a twat.”

Viserra sighed, there was no reasoning with him. Aegon did whatever he pleased and encouraged Jace and Luke to do the same. “You’re a twat.”

Viserra sat cross legged in the grass, Haelena sat nearby playing with a spider she had found in the grass. Most of her afternoons were spent like this, the boys trained and the girls were encouraged to practice more ladylike skills such as dancing, needlepoint but it usually ended with the two young girls disappearing into the garden. The quiet was comforting to them, Viserra liked Haelena although she was a little strange. She had a kind soul that made her a comforting person to be around. 

“Princess, your mother requests your presence urgently.” A guard stood in front of her. Viserra stood up and brushed down her dress, she followed the guard back to her mother's chamber's. 

"Mother?"

Princess Rhaenyra turned around, holding a small bundle that contained the newest addition to their family. "Viserra, come meet your brother. This is Prince Joffery."

Viserra moved closer to her brother, "He looks very pink." 

Rhaenyra couldn't stop the laugh that came out, "Well he is only a few hours old, sweet girl. You looked the same when you were born." 

Viserra wrinkled her nose at the idea however the newborn Prince started to cry before she could answer. Rhaenyra brushed a hand through her daughter's hair and placed a kiss on her forehead. "Go on back now, we'll talk more later." 

Instead of returning to the garden, Viserra walked to the library. She closed the door behind her, the library was one of her favourite places in the red keep. She had even moved a chair closer to the window to read in her favourite place. Unfortunately for her, Aemond was sat in it. 

"Aemond! You're in my chair." Viserra complained. 

Aemond didn't bother to answer, he just waved a hand at her. "Move over." Viserra nudged him, squashing herself into the large armchair beside him. 

She sniffed the air, the smell of smoke invaded her nose. "You smell like fire." It was common for the two to speak high valyrian to each other. Out of both their siblings, they seemed the most interested in learning the language. Viserra loved that, it was one more thing that had made them great friends. 

"I got too close to Dreamfyre." Aemond explained. 

Viserra grasped his hand tightly in her own, "You will have a dragon one day, Aemond. I can feel it."

[mrspockify]

🖊 and/or 💕 for the fanfic ask game!

fanfic ask game

🖊 What is the most recent line you’ve written?

"And then evening rolled around, there was still no sign of Mario, and Luigi was really trying not to freak out." Poor guy 👀

💕 What is the WIP that you are most excited about?

I've been working on an angsty Mareach fic that features wealth disparity thoughts and love confessions, born from a brief idea of Mario attending some event with Peach and being likened to her loyal guard dog by some other attendees. Being mostly nonverbal and literally serving as her personal guard, it's not a stretch to see how people view him, and he's not really able to argue back when they start to tease him for it. He's ashamed at the comparison, but it's not.... inaccurate, is it?

I like the concept a lot, and I think I could do a lot with the angst of being compared with an animal while also feeling so out of place when surrounded by incredibly wealthy people and literal royalty. I am, however, having a hard time making any of it actually good. This one is a struggle 😅

[hot-take-tournament]

Read about his lore, please and then maybe look up why Cu chulainn is called that

i have heard of cu chulainn, in the modern day he's seen as an important symbol of irish independence so he's still well-known

while i do know the story i did have to look up some of the details, so if i get something wrong just let me know

for context, cu chulainn means 'hound of culann' - his original name was setanta

as the story goes, there was a smith named culann who had a famously ferocious and loyal guard dog that setanta was forced to kill in self defence when it mistook him for an intruder

as a way to atone for what he did he offered himself to become 'culann's hound', taking the name and serving as culann's loyal 'guard dog' until he could raise and train a replacement

i'm not familiar enough with fate to tell you how much of that carried over into the game's lore

(also, i looked up finn mccool and realised he's the same guy who was in a folk story i was told as a child - fate fanfic of all things is digging up childhood memories i didn't even know i had)

[saiyanqueenreads]

Hunter-Centric Fanfic Recommendation List for The Owl House: Fics starting with W, X, Y, Z, #

***Please observe any tags/warnings on each work before reading, as some stories may deal with triggering topics and situations***

The list will be updated periodically as I find great new stuff.

Waffles & Flapjack — Similar Yet Different by redrasberries Wake, Hurt, Sleep, Repeat by randomramblingsofme Wanted by CassiePoppy45   Wants by skeletun War Before Bedtime by Polyhexian wasted time with you is the best thing I knew by Cataclysmania    we have a lot more in common than you would be calm with by tristenthekitty we are not the soil we are born from (we are the roots we grow ourselves) by howtotrainyournana we keep this love in a photograph by rnelody we'll get there, one day by hereforthehurts well, the thing is—it's just... by Philiah We're just searching for a meaning by Thousand_Springs What is My Future Like? by Anxious_writer what kind of monster by the_sunshine_dims What Remains by birdinblue What Resembles the Grave But Isn't by azhdarchidaen Whatever It Takes by Sergeant_Sporks What's In a Name by aJanuary What’s in a name? by CowPrintLilies When I See You Again by tristenthekitty When The Past Catches Up With You by CassiePoppy45 when will this feeling pass? by kiixi When You Are Young They Assume You Know Nothing by redrasberries Where Cardinals Fly by q_amongstcupids where my skin begins by parsnipit Where The Moon It Shines Like Gold by FiaNightshade Where You End And I Begin by Pokimoko Wherabouts Unknown by SoliAvi which witch by Anonymous Who Are We Mistaken? by ObabScribbler Wholly you, and that's Special by JustWanderingSpace Why do I feel younger the older I get? by RickSanchez69   will i like wolves again? By sleepy_catz Windy by Polyhexian Winter Sunburn by Raven_with_a_Typewriter Wintery Junk by avatarmerida Wishing There Was More by Cat_oftherevolution With Clay and Star Scraps by SiryyGray With Crooked Hands by SoliAvi with his beak he tries to soothe me (he makes me feel that i belong) by rnelody with or without by parsnipit   Wood and Scales Dont Burn When It Rains by here_there_be_drag0ns wood carving by pawprint_paxillus Words like honey turned to mud by skellygay Words like violence by ChildlikeGoblinQueen Working with Animals by CassiePoppy45  World's Best Turkey Carver by Jagodzianka Worlds Collide by CassiePoppy45

You Are Worthy by FireQuill31 you broke your wings to help me fly by tristenthekitty You Fill My Lungs With Sweetness by HalcyonHal you gave me your eyes, now you're the window to my soul by strawberrydog You Have To Live Through It by ObabScribbler you made the choice to be by Anonymous you thought by now you'd be so much better than you are by Cataclysmania You Want To Smile, You Want To Hurt, You Don't Want To Be by bananadonut You Were More Than Just A Short Time by Sokkas_First_Fangirl  you, wonderful you by paperjamBipper You’re Good by EmeraldArt “You’re Just The Golden Guard.” by Veela_Petal_of_Ice Your Loyal Dog by Sergeant_Sporks You're My Cup of Tea by CassiePoppy45 You've Got to Stop Running by CassiePoppy45  

Zombie AU by redwoodroots

12am Cereal by waterfalls_of_eventide

Fics Starting With: A / B, C, D / E, F, G / H, I / J, K, L / M, N, O, P / Q, R, S / T, U, V / W, X, Y, Z, #

[vicsy]

hihi

J:  What’s your favourite fanfic trope?  Have you written it?

O: What are your thoughts on people writing fanfic of your fanfic?

hiiiiii Ann!!

J:

I really love reading and describing protectiveness in fic (like loyal like a guard dog vs attack dog etc) so definitely THAT. Any kind of monsterfuckery is always welcome (vamps, werewolves, dragons, demons etc)! I really enjoy forced proximity, some dash of angst with happy ending and, like I said before ACTION (which usually comes in forms of an AU).

O:

LOOK IF SOMEONE GETS INSPIRED BY SOMETHING I CREATED THEN GO GO GO GO FOR IT! I think it's great! I strongly believe there are some aspects of creativity we should hog but try to embrace together. Like Fernando says "it's always important to leave space", I also believe it's important to leave space for a remix of what you created or for a different kind of creativity!

fanfic writer ask meme

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

One, Two, Three

Pairing: Arthur Dayne x Reader

Warnings: mc almost gets assaulted

Words: 3k+

Story Request from @blissyooo

Hey lovely! I was wondering if I could request an Arthur Dayne x Reader where she persuades him to train her in sword play and they bond over time (and there's a looooot of longing looks exchange when they're in public) then one day there's some sort of chaos and the Reader finally puts her training to good use and Ser Arthur is proud 😭 Thank youuuuu, I adore your asoiaf fanfics!!

“No.”

You puff out your cheeks.

“That’s still a no, (y/n).” He sighs.

“Oh Arthur, please!!” To make your acting more convincing, you even put on your best puppy dog eyes that normally do him in. Your best friend out ten years though is used to your tactics and merely shakes his head but a smile betrayed how cute he finds you. You know it, he knows it, so why wouldn’t he give into your one request of the Morning Star personally training you to fight with a sword?

This time his tolerant smile was strained as he places his warm fingers around your upper arms and holds you at an arm’s length. For years he had given in to your every wish. How could he not when he was so in love with you? This was the line he would draw though. “Your father would have my head. It’s too dangerous.”

Sputtering out a laugh, you wave off his concerned grip. “How dangerous could it be if you do it?”

“I’m serious (y/n).” He puts on a stern voice that you have only heard a handful of times.

Every time it surprised you to hear Arthur’s voice reach such a deep baritone. Reminded you that he was a man grown. Your heart, without your consent, skips a beat hearing him be so assertive. He was soon to be inducted into the king guard after all in a few months. Meaning you had so little time left with him before he was to depart to Westeros. What would you do without him? You wanted to keep some part of him with you and you had always wanted to learn how to use a sword. The best of both worlds would be available to you if you did so. Your father would be angry, yes, but he would get over it. You were the handmaiden of Ashara Dayne after all, that was a great enough honor. Your family name was nowhere near infamous as the Daynes but your father had been utterly loyal to Dorne and earned his place among the respectable men of the region.

Ashara saved you the whole ordeal of going on your knees to beg him. “Oh train her. It will do her some good.” Her lilac eyes were lit up with unspeakable mischief. Your mistress was well aware of the sweet love you and Arthur dare not speak. She was team Arthur and (y/n) all the way.

“Ashara, (y/n) could get hurt. If either of us make a mistake-“

“So don’t make a mistake.” She glares at her brother while throwing her arm around your shoulders. “And train her so she doesn’t make a mistake.”

Two against one, Arthur gave up and instructs you to be ready at the crack of dawn for exercises. Before you were to even hold a sword, your muscles were to be conditioned.

If you had known that it would take you three weeks to actually hold a sword, you may have changed your mind about learning. And those three weeks were no cake walk. By now your fingers were thoroughly calluses and you were covered in bruises daily. The first bruise Arthur had dealt you made him dubious on continuing.He didn’t like the idea that they were caused by him.

Sternly you demanded that he treat you like his fellow knights. You didn’t want him to go easy on you. You would not half ass it. Arthur would teach you the art of swordplay properly.

Muscle had firmed up your arms and legs and you were pretty sure he had checked out your ass several times.

In the best shape of your life, you were thrilled on the day when Arthur finally placed a practice sword in your hands. Another two weeks passed before finally a real, sharp bladed sword was bestowed upon your sweaty palms.

“Really? I’m finally ready?” You look up at him with cautiously optimistic eyes. Strong fingers grip the hilt, Arthur let go so you are now the soul support holding it up. There was heft to it and you knew had you not spent all those excruciating weeks training your body, it would have been heavier.

Arthur grins at you with a nod. “I mean, if you’re not ready you can give it ba-“

“No No! I know I’m ready!” Taking a step back, you position the sword behind you. Your smile is radiant to him. Both of you greatly enjoyed the time you shared together during the course of your hard work. Watching you excel made his chest swell and cheeks warm.

“Then take your position.”

Promptly you obey and move to the opposite end of the training ring. A swift pivot of your feet has you facing Arthur head on. You pull your sword in front of you in a fluid motion and take your proper stance.

“Now lets take the movements slowly the first time. Progressively it will get faster until you grow accustomed to how it feels. Then we’ll start actually sparring.” He’s incredibly serious when he states the following “These are real blades, (y/n). Weapons of death which should be respected. If I hit you with it, there will be real damage.”

You level him eyes brimming with understanding and determination to continue. He was an excellent instructor; even your father regrettably admitted that. Having two older sisters, they had dutifully married lords. Once upon a time there had been a hope that perhaps Arthur would ask him for your hand in marriage. Since the sweet age of two, both you and Arthur were never seen without the other. It would be a great honor for your family if you were to marry into the illustrious House of Dayne. Years passed though and with neither you nor Arthur prepared to cave into your feelings, your father lost hope and just let you be for the time being. You were still young after all. Things could change.

You saw the hopeful glances everyone shot at the two of you.

Mirroring his movement, you follow along with skillful ease while counting along in your head One, Two, Three, One, Two, Three. . . The rhythm matches your steady heartbeat.

You’re surprised when your blades finally kiss, the clang of it making your bones shiver in delight. With first contact over and done with, you grow more confident in your swings and thrusts. Advancing on him, Arthur grins equally excited. Light dances across his beautiful eyes, purple like the Targaryens. When you were six, you imagined life as an adult, married to Arthur and the children the two of you would create together. They would all have his eyes. You had been determined with that fact. You wanted them all to be as beautiful as their father.

So why after so many years had neither of you admitted the attraction? It was quite simple, each of you held strong to that Dornish stubbornness. Plus you had found out he wanted to join the Westerosi Kingsguard one day. That meant he would make an irrevocable vow to take no wife and father no children. Even if you knew that Arthur liked you back, he must not have loved you that much if he were willing to make such a promise. You meant little to him in that matter.

What would be the point? Never subjecting yourself to begging him to stay, you decided that you would never tell him outright. You wouldn’t let him see how vulnerable you were.

Instead you chose to use the sword to let your frustration known. A good outlet, every regret you wanted to voice was suffocated with the sound of your swords colliding with the other. Such a sharp noise that cut through your inner thoughts efficiently.

A sweaty mess after, your cheeks are near burning as you take in slow, steady streams of air. While you always braided your hair and coiled it, many strands had come loose during your session.

Chuckling, Arthur hands over a clean towel for you to dab at your face. Feeling nice against your skin, you watch Arthur go to get some water for the two of you. Even when he was a sweating mess, he was utterly handsome. His backside wasn’t too bad of a view either. You found it delicious how his muscles rolled and moved underneath his glistening skin. “You did well for your first real sword. Not a scratch or cut on either of us.”

“Hurrah!” You laugh and pump your fist into the air in victory. Just to be silly, you assure Arthur that you have all ten of your digits by holding up your hands and wiggling each one.

He checks his own hands to make sure he too had all fingers in attendance.

You join in on a united giggle. Like this you felt younger, the saccharine days of childhood were behind you though.

Sooner or later, Arthur was going to leave you for Westeros.

Very soon that day did come where you were forced to bid farewell to Arthur as he packed his things for the long journey to King’s Landing. Tourneys to induct new Kingsguard members didn’t happen too often and he had to jump on the opportunity. During one of his visits to Westeros, he had befriended Rhaegar Targaryen and Jon Connington in the Red Keep where they soon formed a close brotherhood of sorts. He had written to you of this when it had occurred, but you didn’t think he had still been in contact with Rhaegar since then. Well, you had hoped he hadn’t. Of course Prince Rhaegar would want to keep their friendship going. Arthur was hard, near impossible, not to like. A natural charisma with people, friends came easy to him.

As the attention of other girls.

But you knew that you were closer to his heart than any woman. You were assured that he didn’t having wandering eyes for no one else.

Rhaegar had informed him that through connections, he saved a spot specifically for Arthur Dayne of Starfall. He wanted his friend to take his rightful position on his father’s Kingsguard. The Crown Prince of Westeros!

A heavy ball of bitterness took root inside of you. In the end, no matter how you saw it, he was choosing the Kingsguard over a life with you.

That was why you shoot a heated glare when you spy the ship that was to deliver Arthur to Westeros. Already small black spots were loading all of his essentials onto the ship. Being high up in Ashara’s balcony, your nails pierce into the stone railing as it was the only thing that kept you from screaming at the inanimate object.

At the sight of a familiar deep blue painted trunk, you squint your eyes in an attempt to gain a better look. The metal crest of your family caught a glint off the sun’s rays.

“Ah! There you are!” Came your lady’s boisterous voice. Her hands are on you shoulders and swiftly steering you away.

“My lady, I think there is a mistake. My chest-“ You struggle to turn your head to face the open sea once more.

“There is no mistake. You’re going to Westeros with us. Well, with me specifically.” She’s even more lovely when her smile is so bright. The kohl under her lower lashes make her familial purple eyes glow. “Permission was given by your father of course-“

Digging your heel into the floor, Ashara staggers. “Wait! Why wasn’t I even asked? What if I don’t want to go?”

She steps away from you and appraises your disgruntled features. While her smile disappears , her face grows apologetic. “I thought you would be happy. You’d be able to spend a little bit more time with Arthur.”

Ashara meant well, of course she did, but you had already grieved Arthur’s departure and prepared yourself for it. You didn’t want to see anymore of Arthur lest your heart betray you. Taking a deep breath, you shake your head. “I don’t want to see him win the glory that will get him knighted as part of the Kingsguard. I want to be happy for him, but I can’t. I’m sorry. I just can’t be happy right now.”

Her hand goes to cup your cheek. “(Y/n), I’m sorry. I just was hoping. . . I don’t know what I was hoping. That both of you would stop being so stubborn maybe. In the end I guess I did more so for myself. Selfish as it may sound, if the two of you did marry, then I could keep you both close by me forever. I don’t want to lose either of you.”

This was hard for her too. Ashara and Arthur, along with their sister and nephew, were the few surviving members of the House of Dayne. They had always been a close knit family, one that you envied very much since your own family was spread all over Westeros and seemed to prefer it that way. Hardly any letters were passed between your family. They had their own lives and were simply happy you were thriving under such an influential household.

You place your hand atop of her’s and lean into her touch. “I’ll go for you to ease your pain but for no other reason. Arthur has made his choice.”

*

You kept to your cabin during the voyage, ignoring the longing glances Arthur would shoot you when you dared to step outside. They were tolerated with an icy shoulder that you would turn his way. Ashara was aware that there was nothing she could do to mend things between her brother and lady in waiting. This was something that ultimately the two would have to figure out themselves. She wanted to have a hand in smacking them upside the head for acting like children.

Thank the gods that the harbor of Blackwater Bay came into view. You were all too grateful to be back on land even if it was King's Landing. In your opinion, King's Landing couldn't even hold a flame to the great Dornish cities of Sunspear and Starfall. The slums were overrun and leaked to even the prettier parts of the Westerosi capital.

Your horses and litter passed through the thick of it as pedestrians strained their necks to get a glimpse of your beautiful Dornish lady who sat straight and pretty, her hand pulling back the curtain of the litter window to watch everyone gawk. Her lips are pursed in a straight line at what she sees. "I can't believe he's leaving Dorne for this."

"Technically its to serve the Targaryen king among the finest of knights." You mumble and look away from the open window. While the carriage trudged on through the cobbled streets, you hear the ringing of the bells that belonged to the Great Sept of Baelor. As if you and Ashara were being welcomed by it when the gates to the Red Keep opened up for you. The ancient home of Aegon the Conqueror. For centuries it housed the royal Targaryen family.

In the heart of the throne room, the Iron Throne’s pointed swords told of enemies that had been vanquished long ago. There seated was King Aerys. His limp, silver hair clung to his skull much more than his crown did. It slid to one side of his head, barely able to perch atop his brow. At the bottom stood his lovely sister-wife Rhaella and on either side of her were both of her sons. The youngest being Prince Viserys who was just a young boy.

The members of Aerys’ Small Council had their own respective seats off to the sides. Other lords stood behind them, probably their own representatives. All eyes were focused on House Dayne’s entourage. It wasn’t often that the Dornish leave their land. They fetishized your features: dark skin and exotic beauty. Resenting the selfconciousness that they made you feel, you keep close to Ashara in an attempt to hide yourself. Not that they would be paying attention to you. You had no distinguishable house sigil. The lords of Starfall were well known, especially the great sword Dawn that was forged from a fallen star.

Speeches lingered on for longer than was necessary as other aspiring knights puffed out their chest in such a typical alpha male way that made you and Ashara roll eyes.

When all the introductions were over, a steward has you following him to the private wing of rooms specifically for Ashara and Arthur and anyone who was in their company.

A relief, you nearly moan once your back hits the mattress of your bed. Every muscle expressed their own feelings as your body’s firmness softens. This type of exhaustion reminded you of your training days with Arthur.

Loneliness crept up on you with cold fingers that tickle your stomach.

You weren’t ready to face a life without him.

***

Rhaegar, wanting to meet the young lady who took residence in Arthur’s heart, was escorted to (y/n)’s room by Arthur himself. The young lordling was hesitant on knocking on her door. His curled fist hovered frozen in front of the wood door.

She had spoken to him, not since their departure from Starfall nor the ship journey. While she didn’t necessarily keep to herself, (y/n) loyally stood by Ashara’s side whenever his sister was out on the deck. Her eyes though, the refused to even look his way. That probably hurt Arthur more than (y/n) not speaking to him. Thankfully he had spent more than a decade in her company and knew her as much as he knew the back of his hand. (Y/n) could hold a grudge but was slow to anger. Normally she was warm and could make a room full of intense men laugh due to her bawdy jokes.

Most important to remember was that (y/n) needed her space when she was hurt or angry.

Arthur would reluctantly offer her that space. But this was a request from his prince. “Please don’t take offense if she’s not outwardly nice. It’s nothing personal. I’m to blame.”

With a gentle smile, Rhaegar pats Arthur on the back. “I won’t take it personally. I’m sure she’s lovely.”

“As much as a spitting viper.” Chuckle lowly, Arthur finally raps his knuckles against the door.

They wait.

And wait.

He knocks again, this time with worry. (Y/n) had a tendency of finding trouble. If she was by herself and not with Ashara. . .

Trying her door next, another hand maid opens it and brings back her mistress. Ashara is already dressing for dinner and had just afixed an earring on. “(Y/n)? Yes she mentioned something about going to see King Baelor’s Maidenvault. I told her the story while we were on the ship and she has been curious about it since.”

“By herself?” Arthur tried not to let the worry leak into his voice. This was a foreign country which (y/n) hadn’t visited before. While it wasn’t night yet, the sun had just started it’s crawl away from the open sky. It would be easy for (y/n) to get turned around and lost.

Ashara didn’t appear too worried though. She leaned against the doorframe a bit with a glint in her eyes. “You better go find her then, huh?” Then to Prince Rhaegar “Lovely to meet you, Your Grace.”

Rhaegar didn’t see the urgency that Arthur felt and matched Ashara’s smile. “The honor is truly mine, Lady Ashara.”

Back to her brother, Ashara placed her hands on her hips. “Well? Get to it then.”

Arthur groaned and turned to Rhaegar. “Can you show me to the Maidenvault?”

Immediately upon arrival, Arthur heard (y/n)’s distressed voice hiss out “Piss off.”

Arthur and Rhaegar stop in their tracks and watch quietly as (y/n) tried to pass through one of the arched pillars that opened out to the entrance of the Maidenvault. Candles at the base of each pillar had just been lit an hour earlier.

There’s a man, his facial features hidden by the oncoming dark, that attempted to grab her arm accompanied by a snarl.

About to surge forward, Arthur froze when (y/n) easily whipped out of his grip and took a defensive step back.

The unknown assailant growled “You Dornish whore, who do you think you are denying me?”

“I hate repeating myself. But for someone with as small of a brain as your’s, I’ll say it again: Piss off. I’m not interested in your shriveled Westerosi cock.”

That set off the male to advance on her. Much to his surprise, (y/n) smacks him with the back of her hand sending him reeling. In his vulnerable position, he isn’t aware of (y/n)’s nimble fingers encircling the hilt of his sword as she deftly unsheathed it from it’s scabbard that hung at his waist.

In a flash, the blade swipes upward so that it only slashes his chest superficially. His eyes are gaping at you, hand clutching at the torn fabric of his tunic.

Oh.

Oh the pride Arthur felt overwhelmed him and made his cheeks burst with flames.

“Get out of my sight. I’ll be keeping this sword. Only men with honor should wield a weapon like this.”

What else could he do but hightail it out of there like the worm he truly was. (Y/n) watched her would be assailant flee.

“That is the woman you are leaving for the Kingsguard? Oh Arthur you fool.” Rhaegar breathed out.

Frowning, Arthur turned to the Silver Prince. “What?”

The prince’s face is stone cold serious though, even a little stern. He had never seen Rhaegar in a state like that. “Listen to me Arthur. Giving (y/n) up for the Kingsguard will be the biggest mistake of your life. There is no glory or honor in protecting my father. No honor in taking the Kingsguard vow. At least. . . Not anymore.”

“Rhae-“

He shook his head fervently. “You are too good of a man, Arthur. And (y/n). . . There aren’t many women out there like (y/n). If you don’t wisen up then someone else will find and claim her. Please, reconsider. Win the tourneys if you must, but do not accept the gold cloak.”

Arthur’s head spun at what Rhaegar revealed to him alone.

***

Having seen all of the Maidenvault as you wished to and making sure that creep wasn’t lurking outside, you walk down the front, stone steps to find Arthur sitting on the other side of the red column.

“You always find me.” You murmur.

“Of course I do.” He rolls his head against the scarlet stone to look at you. The purple in his eyes was luminescent in the early night.

His eyes always made you weak at the knees. How irresistible the call was that his body cast out to you. From your earliest memories, you recall it had always been like that. Both of you naturally gravitated to one another.

You duck your head and return to your stride. “I should be getting ready for dinner.”

“Please wait.”

And you did. His voice was heartbreakingly gentle and it matched the contours of his face.

Arthur gets up and in a few steps he’s in front of you. His hand easily engulfed one of your’s, startling you when he kisses your knuckles. A shiver shocks your nerves at the contact, leaving you breathing heavily.

“I was told recently that I’m a fool.”

Quite unladylike, you sputter out a giggle. “Oh yeah? Was it Ashara?”

“No, it was Prince Rhaegar.”

Whatever humor that had manifested in you dried up. “Prince Rhaegar?”

He purses his full lips, running his thumb over where he had just kissed your hand. “We saw what happened earlier. Prince Rhaegar said I would be a fool to give you up in favor of the Kingsguard.”

You would definitely have to get down on your knees and thank Rhaegar profusely. “You would be.”

A curl of a smile, Arthur chuckles. “I’ve decided I don’t want to be a fool.”

“A great decision.” You grin.

[arvandus]

Hey arv, I'm here for a confession. I just need to get it out of my chest. I was not a yuuta girl. Not in the slightest, not even close. Although you did make me interested in toge 🤨 anyway, this one time I said whatever and read this one yuuta fic. It completely rewired my brain and now I am so down bad for yuuta it's unreal. I am losing my mind.

Oooooooh, Yuuta!! I love love LOVE Yuuta. He can come in so many fanfic flavors, too.

Is it wholesome, loyal guard dog Yuuta?

Or is it outwardly sweet Yuuta with a dark underbelly?

Is it a (dare I say) yandere Yuuta? (a truly terrifying concept)

Is it an older, even MORE jaded Yuuta? (cuz let's be real, all the students are jaded at this point...)

Give me the deets, anon so I may feed off of them....

[euphoricfilter]

To ♡ anon! You can call me whatever is most convenient for you! Not piss baby If it means anything, I picked my thing because it looks absolutely petrified~

I also understand that the cat hybrid thing is kinda overdone. Dogs also have scruffs if you want to fit it into the neck idea? I like yoongi as a Doberman because Dobermans are just really sleek and elegant sort of guard dogs. They’re also more speed than strength which I think aligns with yoongi. Although they’re still very strong O_o and Dobermans are not hunting dogs, but watch dogs so they’re more protective than offensive.

I think mc would be a Belgian Malinois. They’re very similar to German Shepards and they’re very intelligent. They’re leaner and compared to shepherds but they’re less popular also compared to shepherds which may fit with her whole outcast sort of vibe I get from her. They’re also very protective and territorial so that could also explain how tough and defensive she is, but once you train them/get to know them, they’re very loyal.

The thing about hybrid aus I’ve read is that if it’s a variation of a dog, it usually dives into the omegaverse territory.

Unless the universe you make is entirely just different hybrids coexisting equally? But recently I’ve been watching Bluey and I don’t know how I feel about combining my fanfic universe with a children show— I think the best hybrid breed for them entirely depends on what the universe for hybrids is like! Is it divided by predators vs prey? Is it equal coexistence? Is it an internal hierarchy like omega versus alpha is?

And fun fact: I’ve never really liked cat girls/boys or other hybrids for the matter! I think cat girls and boys are pretty, but often times I’ve read a fic or played a game or watched an anime where the hybrid gets infantilized and they’re stupid like a child, but sexualized like any other character if not more??? Yeah, please don’t do that with this au…

I always talk so much in my asks so sorry for the block of text!!

- (⭑•͈ 𓎟 •͈ )

piss baby 😭 maybe that should be my new nickname since i haven’t given you guys a name to call me by

a doberman would be so cute 😭

you know so much about animals it’s so cool, i love listening to random animal facts! i cant think of any at the top of my head rn though 🥲 okay my friend gave me one— female spiders eat the males which is very cool because men suck

ooh that’s true, i think because dogs are associated with wolves and then the omegaverse concept comes into play with pack hierarchy

oh babes dw no infantilism for sexualisation is gonna happen in this au 😭 actually i spoke about this issue in my english oral last year, you’d be surprised how common it is in advertising for women to dress more childlike but the concept of the photoshoot is a porno it’s absolutely insane. there was an ad for i think it was a jeans company, genuinely it was gross. like this girl, dressed up like a kid with this dude in the mirror filming her while she posed provocatively 😭 like i know sex sells but come on, not the infantilising of grown women

anyways on a lighter topic! pls don’t apologize! i love reading your asks!

[mikeys-bike-slut]

Untitled Part 1

It'll be a short fanfic/ long one shot?? Featuring Tokyo Rev x OC. The main "love" interests are Mikey and Draken but more focused on Mikey. It has no name cause I suck at names. Currently I have 8 chapters written but I'll see if anyone will like it before i upload all 8 haha

Please let me know what you think 🙇🏻‍♂

Info:

Everyone is over 20

Heavily inspired by the anime but also been heavily changed haha

No spoilers

English isn't my first language so excuse if there's any grammar errors

Shinichiro is ☠️ rest in peace

Warnings: blood, violence, smut -but each chap will havewarnings-warnings-, character's death

About my OC

***

Warnings: violence, mention of sexual things

Word count: 2413

***

I was pissed off. After actually being one of the founding members Mikey has the nerve to pick a random guy, especially a guy from Moebius, as the Captain of the Third Division. Even Draken was surprised at the idea but the loyal guard dog he is, he just stood in quiet and let it happen.

I knew Mikey was pissed when I just left the meeting without a word or a permission to leave but I couldn't hold it together any longer, I knew if I stayed I would've either punched Mikey or Kisaki so I left for everyone's sake. I stormed off from the shrine, got on Mikey's trusty CB250T and raced off; I wanted him to know that I was pissed off so I hit him where it hurts. I would never do anything to the bike itself, it's all we all have left of Shinichiro and I respected and love him too much to ever disrespect his memory. 

Shinichiro; Mikey's older brother. He was like my older brother too, he was the one who always made peace between us whenever Mikey and I had a fight when we were kids. He taught me how to ride a bike and how to fix one, he taught me how to drive, how to play football and many other things that I had no one to teach me. He meant a lot to all of us, but to Mikey... all he had was Shini. I remember I was the only one who was allowed to call him Shini  because according to him: "I'd never hit a girl"  

I gripped the hand bars tighter as the memory of Shini started flooding my mind as I raced through the empty backside roads of Tokyo. I didn't know where I was going, I just needed to let out the steam; the cold night air blowing in my face and the sound of the Babu's exhaust is exactly what I needed in that moment.

Third P.o.V: 

As the meeting has adjourned slowly the Toman gang members started to leave one by one including their commander who was about meet the shock of his life as he and his trusted vice commander slowly arrived at the parking lot by the foot of the shrine. 

"Tonight was long, I need some-" but the short blonde man stopped in his track as he noticed his beloved motorcycle is missing. "Where the FUCK is Babu?" he asked with a deep growl as he looked around. 

"YO! NOBODY'S GOING UNTIL WE FIGURE THIS OUT!" Draken yelled at the members who were ready to leave. 

"What's up?" Mitsuya asked as he got off his bike and walked up to the two blondes. "Oh" he said as Draken just pointed at the empty space where Mikey's bike supposed to be. "Who the hell would be foolish enough to steal from the commander of Toman?" 

"I don't know but they certainly have a death wish" Draken answered in an annoyed tone. "Wait... what's that?" he cocked a brow as he noticed something shiny on the ground at place of the bike. He crouch down to examine the small, shiny circular object on the ground. "I think I know what happened" 

"That's Angel's ring" suddenly someone chimed in. Along black haired male appeared and walked up to his gang members after noticing the ruckus. "Well... she was piiiiissed off" he chimed with a small smirk. The man who just loooved this situation was non other than Keisuke Baji, Captain of the 1st Division of Toman but also the bike-stealing female's best friend.

"Mikey's gonna kill- MIKEY!" Draken suddenly yelled as he turned around to see the pocket boxer hopping on his bike and taking off with it. "ASSHOLE!" he shouted as he ran after him but gave up after a few meters when he realized he's never gonna catch up with him. 

"Well this, I wanna see" Baji grinned as he got on his own bike and revved it. "Need a lift?" he looked at the the tall tattooed man who's ride just been hijacked too. 

"Yeah... Only if I'd know where they fucking went" he growled as he sat up behind the long black haired male who had the biggest shit eating grin on his face. 

Angel's 1st P.o.V:

I cut the engine as I arrive at the old carpark that over looks Tokyo. The car park belonged to the nearby park but about 7 years ago they stopped caring about the park and it was left to be over grown and abandoned, same happened with the carpark. Back when Shinichiro was still alive he took us here often, we always watched the summer festival's fireworks from here and this is where he taught us how to ride our bikes. It's a place I often come when I need to clear my head and apparently Shini wanted me to come here too. 

"What happened to us, Shini?" I ask quietly as I look out at the glowing city of Tokyo. Taking in the sight; the glowing neon lights, the faint busy sounds of the city I love. It can be beautiful with such a  wide variety of people and culture but it's also a rotten cesspool of the lowest scums, crimes and blood. A city driven by ambition and freedom in daylight, but ruled by blood and violence at night. 

I sigh and shake my head trying to forget the reality of our beautiful city, I pat the tank gently then get off of her and walk over to the railing and just lean over it. I inhale the cold, fresh night air and slowly close my eyes listening to the distant sound of the still busy city and get lost in the bitter sweet memories.

I don't know how long I was reminiscing about the past but suddenly the sound of a familiar exhaust in the distant wakes me from my memories. The sound grows louder very quickly; I can recognize those exhaust anywhere, it's Draken's Zephyr.  Suddenly I get blinded by head light as the vehicle arrives at the car park and once the light dims when the bike drifts next to me, I expect to see Draken and a very pissed of Mikey behind him but to my surprise it's just a very pissed off Mikey. Here we go.

He shuts off the engine and just sits there silent just staring at the landscape. We just stand there in silence for a while until he breaks the silence. 

"You have some nerves..." he says in a dark, heavy tone as he gets off of the Zephyr. "You take Babu without my permission... you disrupt a meeting and you leave without a permission" he continues as he slowly walks up to me. "Do you have a death wish?"

"Oh..Shut up Mike-" but he just cuts me off ass he raises his voice. "I asked you a question Shishou!" he snaps at me in a cold tone and for the first time shiver runs down my spine from him. I never been scared of Mikey, even if I witnessed his monsterous strength and cruelness in front row, it never affected me. We often got into fights, many time actual physical fights but no matter how pissed he was he never called me by my real name. The anger and annoyance I felt towards him easily perished as I realized he truly was PISSED.

Mikey's very good at hiding his feelings and keeping calm; even when he is angry or pissed he likes to keep a straight face, which is actually one of his most intimidating features; the uncertainty of whether he is actually mad or not, the uncertainty or what his next step gonna be.

When I took Babu I knew he is going to be irritated and probably pissed but I didn't realize the weight and reality of my actions. I took off with the only thing left from his brother cause I know it will annoy him, which looking back, on its own is a very low and shitty move from me. 

"I'll take whatever punishment you wish to give me, commander" I say in a shameful tone as I look at him; his eyes were just empty and cold. Here it is... not knowing what he thinks.

"I would never hit a woman" he says coldly. "That is your only luck" 

As he says that suddenly that anger and annoyance I felt, what caused this whole mess resurfaces and I lose it. "This is what I'm sick of!" I yell  at him and I just punch him in the face making him stumble back but he just remains emotionless. "I am sick and tired of being treated different just because I'm a woman, do I have to beat the living hell out of THE Mikey to prove myself?!" I carry on yelling and swing my arm to punch him again but this time he blocks my attack and punches me instead. I stumble back and cough up some blood, I lift my head up and look at him as I wipe my mouth and I can see the same look in his eyes as I have in mine; fight. This is it, this will be settled right here, and right now. 

Third P.o.V

After checking every location they can think of suddenly Baji remembers the place where he always found Angel when she needed some peace; the parking lot. Baji and Draken drove straight towards the location, a well known place from their childhood, while hoping the mini sadist has enough self control not to actually kill their friend. 

"Oh fuck..." Draken growled when Baji and him finally reached the parking lot and found the light pink haired girl and their blonde commander beating each other to a pulp, both being covered in dirt and blood, with busted lips and bruised eyes. Again.

The gang has witnessed these fights so often they ended up placing bets on who's gonna win, they grew tired of trying to separate two fighting shithead, who always ended up fighting over some minor bullshit, like Mikey eating Angel's snacks or Angel mocking Mikey. Their miniature leader was always good at keeping his calm but when it came to the pink cyclone he had no patience and let his immature side shone, making his men question if they have a leader or a brat.

"You gotta admit the fact that she actually bruised Mikey is impressive" Baji says as he leans forward on his bike just watching the fight with a grin stretching ear to ear. He always loved how fierce and feisty the pink haired was, especially when it came to their leader. She never shied away from giving the fearless leader a pep talk or smack him when he annoyed her, which Mikey loved doing. Neither of them were innocent and were masters in getting on each other's nerve. The guys often thought they just need to fuck and get it over with, but only if they knew.  

"Yeah.... sometimes I forget how strong she actually is" Draken says with a frown. He only been punched by her once and that was enough for him. "We should stop them..." 

"I'm quite enjoying watching Mikey having his ass handed to him" the dark haired man grins as he glances at the tall blonde behind him then directs his eyes back at the fighting pair who seemingly didn't even notice them. 

"Are you enjoying Angel getting her ass handed to her?" he cocks a brow as he gets off of from behind the black haired man and slowly walks up to the fighting peacocks. "YO!" he yells. "THAT'S ENOUGH" The loud yell suddenly wakes up the to bloody contestant who just glare at each other, sweaty and panting, wiping the blood off of their own faces. "Can I have my Zephyr back?" he asks not hiding his annoyance as he glares at the shorter male. 

"I'm going home" he replies in his casual tone as he walks off toward his beloved Babu. 

"You're taking her home" Draken says as he points at the beaten pink cyclone who's eyes just widen. 

"I rather walk, thank you" she replies immediately shaking her head.

"There's your answer" the short ones shrugs and get on his bike. 

"I was not kidding. You're a team, you're family, you two have to resolve this by tomorrow. Have fun" the blonde just waves then hops on his Zephyr and rides off not wanting to hear a possible argument.

"Sorry Ang, he is right. Love you though" Baji shouts as he rides off laughing as the cyclone tries to chase him.

"Assholes!" she yells after his best friend as she stops running and just starts walking down the dark road.

Angel's 1st P.o.V:

I sigh regretting my decision for coming here and also cursing both Baji and Draken for leaving me here. As much as Mr. Dorayaki was still there I would rather walk then actually ask for his help. Damn my stubbornness. As I walked down the dark road I heard the Honda's familiar exhaust sound getting closer behind me. Fully expecting him to just zoom past me he actually slowed down then half way cut off my way as he pulled in front of me. 

"Get on..." that's all Mikey said in an emotionless tone as he looked at me with those dark eyes. I didn't say a word just silently accepted his offer and climbed up behind him.

The ride home was very quiet, neither of us spoke a word. I just sat behind him quietly resting my head on his back as I gently held him by his waist, though he extremely annoyed me and hurt me, being so close to him always brought me comfort. He was the only person who in one moment I want to kill and kiss them in the next. 

Once he pulled up outside my house we both just sat there in silent, nothing but the deep purring of his Honda filled the air. I wanted to get off and go inside but something inside me just did not wanted to be away from him and I could feel he did not wanted me to go either. 

"I'll help you get in..." he suddenly broke the silence as he turned off the engine then get off of his bike.

"I'm fine...actually" I replied in the same quiet mannerism as I get off of Babu. Once again we just stood there in silence not knowing what to say or what to do. "Come in... I need to patch you up..." I broke the silence finally then just took his hand and pulled him after me. As I glanced back I saw a smile playing on his busted lips as he followed me in. 

As we got in I went straight into the kitchen after kicking my boots off and put the kettle on to cook some herb tea. I looked for some snacks so I can feed him but it's been a while since I've been shopping, all the snacks I managed to found I put in a small woven basket then walked back into my living room and handed it to him. "I'm going to have a quick shower, eat" I say in a softer tone as  I look at him. 

"Can I join?" Mikey asks in his usual, casual mannerism, seemingly completely being back to his normal self. 

"Glad to see you're back to your old self" I chuckle then shake my head. "I guess you can, but no funny business. I'm gonna be sore enough from you as it is tomorrow" I frown as I look at him and he just chuckles. 

"I'll be good I promise" he lifts his hands up in defence with a chuckle.

I just shake my head then walk off into my bathroom with Mikey following me. My tattooed body was covered in bruises, just like his, we really did a number on each other. 

I sighed then I turned away from him towards the shower and just open the tap and adjusted the water. Once the water was right temperature I climbed in then soon Mikey followed. As we were in Mikey was suspiciously quiet and he is only quiet when he is sleeping or eating... Almost like a child, if Mikey's quiet be on high alert because he more than likely summoning Satan himself.

"Hey, blondie, you okay?" I ask as I glance back at him fully expecting him to jerk off or something but what I saw was the polar opposite.  

[parkjimin1010smuts]

Breaking Point || Kth

Summary: Taehyung reveals just how he deals with his stress to his best friend y/n and late one night y/n reaches her breaking point and decides to put Taehyungs tactic to the test, but there is a slight problem she has no one to help her out, or does she?

Warnings: daddy kink, overstimulation, thigh riding, virgin reader, multiple orgasms, fingerings, unprotected sex (yalls stay safe out there though this is just a fanfic), dom tae, sub reader, pwp. Enjoy!!

An elbow nudging into the side of your ribcage pulled you back into the conscious realm. A slight gasp leaves your mouth as you jerked your head back up. Now who the hell thought it was the perfect moment to need your attention.

You gathered your surroundings haphazardly, a subtle frown settling upon your face as you realized just who it was, Kim Taehyung. “Morning princess, I almost thought you’d never wake up,” his velvety voice mocked.

Turning towards Taehyung, the frown on your face only deepened, a small sound of annoyance escaping you. With your eyes now in his direction you unintendedly began to check him out. The cluster of blonde hair that was normally nestled peacefully was a disheveled mess exposing his forehead. His plump cheeks were pushed up due to the goofy grin he had plastered on his face nearly concealing his chocolate brown eyes that were now mere crescent moons. I had to admit he had a very attractive smile, reminiscent of a box.

His body was clad in a pair of black slacks that clung beautifully against his muscular thighs leaving very little to the imagination. His caramel chest peeked at me from the confines of the loose summer shirt he wore. I was brought back to reality when the view of his chest was suddenly obscured by the change in his position as he was now bent over packing his things. Releasing I heavy sigh I began to mirror his actions before throwing my bag over my shoulder and making a beeline straight to the double doors. In true Taehyung fashion he was right on my tail, trailing me like the faithful guard dog he pretends to be.

You and Taehyung  have been best friends now for over 15 years, you both met in the early years of preschool and by the grace of the angels above you have not been separated ever since. Through thick and thin, trials and tribulations, Taehyung has been there every step of the way. Everything you have experienced so has he, that’s how close you two are and, in all honesty, you wouldn’t have it any other way with any other person. 

This closeness however was more often than not met with questioning glances and needless two cent comments, most of them romance related. But Taehyung was always so quick to shut them down with a little more fervor and enthusiasm than you would deem necessary.  It was clear to you that Taehyung simply had no interest in you romantically, and you understood. Who cared if you had a tini, tiny crush on him. Not you that’s for sure.

But I mean it was inevitable, the man who was now glued to you side in a steady march that matched your own was a literal god send. He was loyal, attractive and physically in shape. What more was there to ask for.

“What’s up with you lately, every time I see you you’re either lethargic or in one hell of a mood.” My best friend voiced before abruptly coming to a halt in front of his black pick up.

“Nothing I’ve just been up studying for finals and the stress Is finally getting to me I guess,” you say through clenched teeth. You really do feel like you're reaching your breaking point and seeing how well put together Taehyung just riles you up even further. Its really not fair, we are in the same course, the same exams, the same workloads and yet there he is basking in his ethereal beauty, fair skin with no signs of exertion. While you on the other hand are left to wallow in the deep dark bags that have taken residence beneath your forever dropping eyes. Don’t even get me started on the acne that picks the absolutely best moments to choose your face as their next canvas, please note the sarcasm.

Allowing your curiosity to surface you voice the question that has been eating at you for quite some time now, “How do you do it?” Taehyung shots a quick glance your way before reverting his attention back to the bustling road before us but the slight dip of his eyebrows was enough for you to know he wants you to elaborate.

With a deep breath you laid everything that had been forming a cluster in your mind out on the table for Taehyung to digest. When you was through with your mini rant session an eerie silence danced between you two for a good minute before Taehyung finally released a hearty chuckle. With his head thrown back and eyes closed from the intensity of his smile he was unable to see the way your face twisted in confusion.

“You think I’m ethereal?” Of course, that was the only thing his pea sized brain was able to pick. Suppressing all the swear words you had an indescribable urge to throw his way you simply rolled your eyes while sinking further into the leather car seat.

“I release my stress through other things.” He finally said after calming himself.

“Other things,” you said with a raise of my eyebrow. 

“Yeah, other things, or more specifically sex.” your eyes grow tenfold as you choke on your saliva. Sex?! Should this really have been a surprise to you, I mean he’s young healthy and oh just look at him.

However it still does nothing to subside the slight blush you feel creeping up your neck as you avert your eyes to your lap. While he was indeed your best friend and things not discussed between the two of you were few and far between, one thing he never seemed to ask you about was your sex life. Not that there was much to ask about in the first place. You were a virgin, not entirely from lack of trying but still a virgin none the less.

“Oh,” that was the only logical response your mind could muster given the circumstances.

“Oh,” Taehyung retorted as he maneuvered the car to rest in his driveway. Choosing to remain silent you purse your lips into a thin line, you refuse to falter, even when he turns his body to allow his eyes to have unlimited access to scrutinize you with their chocolate depths. The car suddenly feels so hot or maybe that’s just your face which is now beet red.

“What’s with your reaction y/n,” Taehyung presses fully failing to read the room, or car in this situation.

You have never had any problems confiding in Taehyung but for some reason you feel embarrassed to mention that you're still in fact a 23 year old virgin, especially after he just shared details of his very thriving sex life.

The silence drags on for a good three minutes and knowing your best friend you know there is no way he will ever give in and so you cave. “I’m a virgin, okay. There, are you happy now,” you hastily say with an exasperated sigh. Choosing to save yourself from the snarky remarks you know are about to flow like a river from your best friend you hurriedly make your way out of the confines of his car. You mentally curse the universe as you see we are in fact parked outside his apartment complex and any thoughts you had of fleeing the scene are disintegrated in mere seconds. As if adding fuel to the flame the sound of the car door sounds as Taehyung makes his way out of his car and round to my side.

“Please save it, I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit right now,” you cut him off before he can even part his lips. “Hey what’s wrong with you. Did you seriously think I would judge you just because you chose to keep it locked up.” you simply avert your gaze as his words settled in your head.

“Hey look at me, your virginity is nothing to be ashamed of okay, I’m sorry if I made you feel that way, but you know me better than that. You know I would never shame you for anything so insignificant.” The tone of his voice was calm and collected and shame suddenly washed over you from the way you had jumped the gun. You never realised how your reaction could have been perceived, Taehyung was always so understanding and here you were assuming only the worst of him.

Deciding not to push the conversation any further you simply lowered your head in embarrassment before heaving a sigh. You've been doing that a lot lately. Being the attentive best friend that he is Taehyung was quick to pick up on my signals and thankfully refrained from pushing the topic any further. A silence soon settled between us before Taehyung laced his fingers around your own before leading you back to his car.

“I’m gonna take you home and you just get some rest okay,” The soft nature of his voice just made you feel worse while simultaneously lifting your mood.

~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•

Yet again a frown had found its way onto your face as you stared at the clock that ticked away on your bedside table. It was just past 2am and yet the lights in your room were still on casting shadows over the immense paperwork clustered all over your bedsheets. Yet another sleepless night with your only companion being a cup of coffee made with  three sugars and a gallon of stress.

Grabbing the cup of steaming goodness you throw your head back as you allow the bitter taste to maneuverer its way into your body with hopes of getting your systems back on high alert. You put down the coffee with a soft clang so it’s now adjacent to the ticking demon that serves as a constant reminder of how shit you have it right now.

Fighting the urge to scream you plunge face first into your numerous worksheets. This was it, you had finally reached your breaking point, the tears that stung the corners of your eyes served as confirmation.

Just as you were about to succumb to the severity of it all and just allow yourself to scream and cry to your hearts content a certain blonde haired box smiled adorning goof crossed your mind. Or more specifically a certain conversation shared between the two of you.

Sex.

You felt tingly sensations dance through your veins as the solution to all your problems was now just in front of you. However this feeling of euphoria was only short lived as not long after you realised there wasn’t a single person you could ask for help. Well there was that one guy you met during spring break, but your relationship came to a rocky end as he bumped heads with Taehyung over your relationship with him. He had accused you of slutting around with Taehyung and the man in question did not take lightly to his words. Lets just say his name is most definitely off the table, and so is my relief plan seeing as he is your only ex. Pathetic I know, no need to remind me.

You run your fingers across your laptop giving it a contemplative tap, while trying your hardest to push the most obvious solution to your problem to the back of your head. There was no way you could call him. Seriously, there was no plausible or conceivable scenario in which you went to your best friend, pleading for him to lend you his body to get off. You brought your hands to your face, a shriek of embarrassment escaping you at the mere idea.

This was the guy who had seen you at your worst, stumbling into your apartment with puke all over yourself when you were going through your hard liquor phase freshman year of college. There's no way he'd be interested in having sex with the girl he spent many nights holding her hair back as she hurled into her toilet.

No.

You couldn’t ask Taehyung to partake in such an activity with you. Absolutely not.

No way.

~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡

The creaking of your apartment door sent you five feet into the air as the reality of the situation sinfully settled in your brain and the nerves were finally kicking in.

“Taehyung,” you whirled around to face him as his gaze zeroed in as you  shifted your body from one foot to the other, a tendency you displayed whenever nervous. You couldn't fight down the heat that was creeping up your neck as he stepped into your apartment, eyeing you cautiously as he slipped off his shoes.

“Hey is anything wrong, you sounded really anxious on the phone.”

“What, me, I’m perfectly fine!” You responded forcibly, the enthusiasm in your voice misplaced, given the nature of the conversation.

Taehyung simply nodded back at you, not noticing the awkward timber of your words or otherwise not minding. "Well if nothings wrong why'd you call me over to your place at 2am?" He inquired, like the wonderfully kind best friend he was. You pressed your lips together.

"About that, do you remember how you said you use sex as an outlet for your stress in order to maintain a level head, well would you mind having sex with me as I’m a pathetic excuse of a human who has no one else to turn to for my sexual needs." Oh god, there was no way you could ask that. Taehyung was your best friend, and that would be too unbearably awkward. What the hell were you thinking?

“Well i wanted to watch the conjuring 3 again and I remembered that you hadn’t watched it yet so what better time than now?” You swallowed uneasily, a gesture that unfortunately didn’t go unnoticed by your best friend. Your eyes nearly fell out of your head as the man of the hour suddenly took a step towards you, his eyes unmoving on your face.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" His tone was suddenly low and severe, eyes running all over your burning face as he searched for any physical ailment. There was something off about you, he realized. He wasn't sure what it was, but he could make out how your form was trembling, your eyes wide in panic.

“Do you want to have sex with me.” You reflexively shut your eyes as you allowed the weight if your words to hang heavy between the two of you it's only competitor being the unbearable silence that lingered in the air not long after. You could hear every inhale and exhale of the tall man that stood opposite you. Every passing second of silence made you regret your words and just as you were about to play it all of as a joke and retract your prior request a pair of soft lips pressed gently against your own stopping you right in your tracks.

Just as suddenly as it happened it came to an end. You could feel something stirring in your chest , the feeling of his lips on yours lingered, radiating heat like an old burn. You turned towards him and the look in his eyes nearly knocked the breath out of you, there was a dark sheen to them, one you had never seen. It was intimidating and attractive all the same, the fire in your belly igniting like never before. Before you could even think to stop yourself, you grabbed the collars of his shirt and pulled him down to you before taking his lips with your own.

In no time at all the kiss got heated as tongue and teeth were thrown into the mix. You feel his tongue explore the darkest depths of your  mouth as you fight back the need for air. His tongue reluctantly leaves your mouth all before licking a stripe across my bottom lip before his teeth bite down on it, hard but not enough to draw blood. You let out a whimper as his teeth finally released your lip.

There was a shift in the room, Taehyung could sense it. He knew exactly what you wanted and fuck if he didn't want the same thing. His entire body was on edge, he could hear every heavy exhale you pushed past your parted lips. "You're a virgin." The whine that came from you in response was low. "I don't want this to be something you regret in the morning.  I can't promise I'll be gentle." He licked his lips.

"Please, I just… just this once," Your words were soft and pleading, the sound of your thighs pressing together in search of relief filling Taehyungs ears. "I need you." He could see your hard nipples pressing against the thin material of your white shirt. They were distracting him, and thoughts of his hands cupping your breasts over your shirts, rubbing your cloth-covered nipple between his fingers, corrupted his mind. How easy it could've been for him to cave right then and there.

Your voice was small and dripping in submission. He felt like he was suffocating in the small space you called your living room. Fuck. He felt himself stiffen in his shorts. You were breathing heavily now, hands trembling as you fought the urge to throw yourself against Taehyung and bury your face into his neck. The mere thought of his skin against yours caused your whole body to shudder in want. When did you become like this. Your thoughts and actions almost made you seem unrecognisable but with the heat of the moment you couldn’t careless. You wanted this and how you wished Taehyung would stop being the gentleman he was and just fuck you already.

Taehyung was already heading towards you as he heeded his last warning, "Do you understand? I need to hear your answer."

“Oh god Taehyung just fuck me already!”  you hurriedly said followed by a deep exhale.

Without wasting another second Taehyung plopped himself onto your mustard couch before pulling you onto him. The sudden movement caused you to straddle one of his meaty thighs which had you quivering as your pussy throbbed from the sudden stimulation.  When you finally got comfortable you pulled the shirt over your head quickly, hands coming to fondle your own breasts, desperate for any skin contact.

You let out a cry as Taehyungs palms found the skin of your hips, urging you to grind against his thigh. You whined rocking back against his thigh. “Mm please Tae, I need your cock,” your own words surprised you.

"Hmm? You seem to be doing just fine without me, though." He cocked his head at you, hand coming up to smack the side of your thigh. A sharp moan fell from you, fingers tugging at your nipple as your hips sped up. Then, to your sweet relief, Taehyungs mouth found one of your breasts, taking no hesitation in pulling the hard bud into his mouth. You threw an arm over his shoulder, fingers floundering as they attempted to find anchorage on his sweat-soaked skin. Your other hand reached out to touch his abdomen, preening as his muscles flexed beneath your fingers.

He pulled away from your breast with a loud pop sound. Smirking up at you as your eyes began to flutter shut, he watched in amusement as your orgasm caught up with you quickly, a result of your heightened sensitivity and inexperience. He would have to teach you later how to refrain from Cumming so quickly.

"Fuck, oh god Taehyung" You cried into his shoulder, body jerking as you came unravelled. Taehyung couldn't help but let out a whine of his own, palming over his crotch as he watched you ride out your orgasm. Although he would never admit it the way his name fell from your lips like honey had his cock twitching in his now too tight jeans. " Taehyung, please." You panted once you had caught your breath, bringing your face up to his. “Fuck me" you managed to pant out without breaking eye contact. Thus lead to Taehyung  unconsciously letting out a groan.

"Is that what my pretty girl wants? Want daddy to fill you up, sweetheart?" The intimate pet name escaping him before he could think otherwise. It should have been no surprise to you that Taehyung had a daddy kink. Nonetheless you could feel a new wave of wetness staining his jeans from the pet name, from daddy, right down to the way his thigh was still flexing underneath your heat. It was all too much, you could feel your senses going into over drive.

"Yes daddy, fuck. Fuck me deep and hard until I'm stuffed with your cum.” You breathed into his neck. Taehyung was going to fucking explode. Every damn word you spoke went straight to his groin, his painfully hard cock straining against his Jean’s fabric. And with that in mind, he flipped you over, pushing your legs up into your chest so that he could see your clenched cunt fully exposed for him.

“You don't have any idea what you fucking do to me, do you? I'm so fucking hard for you, and I haven't even felt that lovely pussy of yours." He growled, his fingers coming down to circle your entrance. You didn't even have time to contemplate a response before his fingers rolled over your sensitive bud. His fingers felt so different to yours – your jaw slack as a silent sob fell out, his light but quick motions sending your back arching. Wrapping a hand against his wrist, you groaned, the feeling nearly overwhelming but still too good to pull him away.

Taehyung cursed as your hand came down to rub against the his cock still retrained by his jeans, the small action just gentle enough to have his hips jerking into you. He felt painfully hard and he feared if you didn’t stop he would bust a load right in his pants. His skilful hands were soon lost to his belt as he hurriedly worked to get rid of the only clothing left separating your bodies. "Gonna make a mess of this wet little pussy, okay? Let me know if you want me to stop." Were Taehyungs final words as he pressed himself inside you, hand reaching over to take yours into his.

A cry left you, eyebrows furrowing together as your head fell back, leaving Taehyung breathing heavily through his nose, jaw tense as he fought back a growl. The urge to sink his teeth into your sweat glistened neck was too much to resist and so he bent down and began showering hickeys over the canvas that was your neck.

The stretch stung a bit but he was able to easily slide into you thanks to your prior orgasm and the help of his fingers. You felt full and content, it was such an overwhelming feeling that when he bottomed out and his groin came in contact with your clit you came for the second time.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head you let out a loud moan that had you hiding your face in embarrassment. You could feel the hot breath of Taehyung as he chuckled from his position nestled between your breasts. After deciding you had had enough time to get accustomed to his size Taehyung pulled out almost completely before sliding back into you. You let out a whine as he bottomed out inside you, watching as his expression changed into a lewd one with your walls clamping around his fat cock. "How's that, baby?" You could only moan in response, nails digging into his back as he began to rock himself into you, entirely obsessed with the way your body was readjusting itself as he moved inside you. It was like your body knew exactly what to do, despite the sensation being otherwise strange.

Your fingers found your clit immediately, knowing that this was exactly how you wanted to cum, dripping down the couch and stretched out around  Taehyungs cock. "So big. Feels so good." You mumbled, your hair cascading around you as his pace quickened, fucking you hard and deep.

You let out an incoherent whimper, shuddering as Taehyungs thrusts into you deepened, spurred on by the way you continously moaned his name submissively. Your thighs felt wet and slick, the combined mixture of both yours and Taehyungs arousal dripping down onto them. You felt filthy and dirty and you were loving every second of it.

You could feel all your stress diminishing right before your eyes with every thrust of his hips. You felt elated, almost as though you were in another dimension, oh how you didn’t want this moment to come to an end. "My pretty little girl. You're making an absolute mess on my dick, isn't that right?"

"Yes, Daddy." You sobbed, body more than ready to succumb to your third orgasm of the night. "Such a good girl." He praised, a hand coming up to squeeze one of your supple tits. Your fingers found your abused clit once more. You circled around it liberally, the familiar euphoric feeling creeping up on you once more. "My sweet little girl. My precious girl." He cooed into your mouth, earning him an appreciative moan.

He was so close, fuck. “Cum in me daddy, I want you to come in me,” you whimpered desperately all in hopes of finally pushing him over the edge. And it seemed to have done the trick because with a final thrust he nestled himself deep within your warmth, a string of groans and curses tumbling out his mouth as he emptied his load into you. His release was the final push you needed to reach your most intense orgasm of the night. You shamelessly screamed as your back arched off the sofa and your body writhed in overstimulation.

"Fuck, fuck. I love you, holy shit, I love you." He peppered your face with kisses, breath shaky. Whether he let that slip due to the heat of the moment or whether those were his genuine feelings he had kept bottled up within him much like you, you chose to just revel in the moment stress free. "I love you more." You sighed adoringly, revelling in such an intimate gesture from him.

Thank you so much for reading 💜

[thran-duils]

Use All of Me (P.1)

Title: Use All Of Me (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Steve Rogers. The Avengers are heroes saving the world but in this AU, they are also permitted by the powers in charge to have less than favorable business underneath their guise of mere superheroes. Steve and Tony are at the helm, keeping their empire’s wealth in check, both devious and perilous if crossed. Steve takes a liking to the reader at a party and it may be her undoing to her autonomy choosing to go home with him. Words: 2,132 Warnings: Dark AF, angst, emotional/mental abuse, smut, breeding, death Author’s Notes: This relationship is going to go ~downhill~ from healthy really quick. Please do not read if that is going to offend you.

Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

You hiked the sides of your swimsuit up higher, further accentuating your ass. A man had been watching you for the better part of the evening at the party you and a couple of your friends were attending. It was an upscale pool party, one with a list you had managed to get yourselves on at the last club event last weekend you had attended. You had made friends with the right girl, she had found you three entertaining and wanted you to be at this party. She had stopped by earlier in the evening, exchanging some laughs and pointing out where the bar was and also who to go to if you wanted to have some extra fun for a little extra cash. You had declined on that offer – you were not familiar with this place and it being your first time, you did not want to risk rolling and potentially making a fool out of yourself.

Your drink was placed on the bar and you tipped your glass towards the bartender. Walking back from the bar, you made sure to not cast a glance in his direction. You found playing hard to get was far more advantageous than acting desperate in circumstances like this.

You sat back down on the edge of the pool, your back to the man, where your friends were sitting with their legs dangling in the water.

“Who are you showing the goods off for?” Yua asked you, curious.

Shrugging nonchalantly, you said, “There’s a guy.”

She giggled, giving you a nudge, “Who? I promise I won’t be obvious.”

You took a drink, letting her simmer in anticipation for a few moments. “Hmm. He’s a dirty blonde, a suave, combed back style. Looks really muscular underneath that dress shirt. I wouldn’t doubt if he owns some Ray Ban aviators. It would really complete the look.”

True to her word, Yua was being discreet, eyes gazing over the crowd casually.

“There are a few…” she said slowly and then trailed off. Her head snapped towards you and she said, “Do you mean the one who can’t stop looking over at you?”

“I’m sure that’s him,” you smirked. “If he’s in a booth with a few other people.”

It was Natalie’s turn to look around. She let out a low whistle, bringing her glass to her lips.

“You don’t approve?” you asked.

She scoffed, “You do know who that is, correct?”

“Steve Rogers,” you told her as a matter of fact, which caught her off guard. Of course you knew who he was. Who did not know the Avengers? They protected the world but considering the work they did, they were given a lot of leeway about their other lucrative ventures. Money and protection were a part of their sphere, and it ran dark side, with a nasty underbelly. How deep it went was a big question for anyone not in the underground.

You shot a look over your shoulder, meeting his piercing stare. He smirked at you, and you blushed. Partially in embarrassment but also arousal. Well, this was going to make tonight interesting you hoped. Facing your friends again, you chirped, “Maybe he’ll buy me drinks. He certainly has enough money to drop some dollars.”

“Yeah, I am not sure that is such a great idea, Y/N,” Natalie said warily.

“Oh, if he’s on my same page, I’m just looking for a fun night. What the hell could happen?”

“A lot,” Natalie said sourly. Yua and you snickered. She said, “I’m serious. You don’t know what he’s involved in. Not truly.”

Yua told her, “I’m sure whatever business he has can hold off for one night if he wants to give Y/N some vitamin D.”

“You’re so childish,” Natalie muttered, the two of you chortling at Yua’s joke, much to her annoyance.

A shadow fell over the group of you from behind, causing the trio of you to turn around, craning your necks. A burly man was standing there, not one that you recognized.

“Mr. Rogers is requesting your audience,” he said to you in greeting.

You shot Natalie a self-satisfied smile. She returned a frown, disapproving. You knew her worries were valid, who really did know what kind of trouble you could get caught up in. But really, what could one night do? Still, going to a table with a bunch of mobsters did set you the slightest bit on edge.

“Audience…?” you trailed off, trying to be coy.

Natalie sighed, “Oh, Y/N, you know what he means.”

You smirked at Natalie before telling the man, “My friends are smarter than to let me go off with a strange man alone. Do you think it is possible they could join me? Just so I feel more comfortable?”

The man looked at loss for words for a few moments before clearing his throat, “Mr. Rogers specifically requested you, miss. He did not mention anyone else coming to his table.”

What a way to tell you no.

You exchanged a look again with Natalie and Yua. To the man, you said honestly, “Well, I will have to decline. I do not feel comfortable going alone. Tell him thank you for the invitation all the same.”

“O-oh,” the man stammered, struck uncomfortable by your refusal to go with him. He nodded jerkily, his hands clenching by his sides. “I… that is unfortunate. Well, I will… relay this to him. Good night then. And good night to you as well.” He nodded in the direction of Natalie and Yua as well in departure.

As soon as he was out of ear shot, Yua let out a small laugh. “He looked like you just signed his death wish, Y/N.”

“She very may well have,” Natalie told Yua gravely, which only made Yua snicker more. “I’m serious. Y/N just told an Avenger no.”

Scoffing, you asked, “What would you have had me do then? Go with him? I don’t think so. I was honest! I don’t feel safe going without the pair of you. Hanging out with him would be a thrill, sure. But it’s not smart without you guys. And I wasn’t rude about it.”

“I know,” Natalie sighed, picking up her drink again. “That was being stuck between a rock and a hard place.”

“Who knows? Maybe he’ll try harder now. Maybe he’ll even come over to you instead of ‘requesting your audience’!” Yua chimed in and snorted. “What a pompous thing to say.”

Natalie shook her head at Yua’s continued berating of the situation. “You two are too naïve for your own good.”

<> <> <>

Bryce returned to the table alone, much to Steve’s displeasure.

Steve narrowed his eyes, “Something wrong?”

“She said she was uncomfortable coming over without her friends because she doesn’t know you.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Steve said dryly, “And?”

“I’m not following, sir.”

“And why didn’t she just bring her friends with her?”

Bryce looked noticeably anxious at this turn of conversation. He stumbled, “Well… sir, I told her that you had not mentioned anyone else coming to the table. So… she then declined the offer.”

There was silence at the table. On Steve’s left, Tony’s lips ticked on a side as he tried to hide a full smirk by bringing his whiskey to his lips.

Licking his lips, Steve posed, “Bryce… did I say no one else could come to the table? Specifically?”

Natasha shot Bryce a coy look as she lit a cigarette. She was enjoying the exchange; she was not fond of him and never had been. She was curious why Tony and Steve even kept him around besides for his muscle. He was loyal; that was true enough. But he sure as fuck was dim.

“N-no, sir.”

Leaning forward over the table, Steve leveled him with a glare. “Get your ass back over there and invite her friends then.”

“Yes, sir. Of course,” Bryce said, before scattering.

<> <> <>

Steve’s breath was hot against your skin as he cradled you from behind. You had gotten preoccupied with looking at yourself in the full-length mirror outside his bathroom, fixing your hair, adjusting your breasts in your swim top. He had come up behind you, locking eyes with you through the mirror. His shirt was gone, and his bare skin caressed against yours as his fingers trailed down between your breasts, down your stomach to the waist band of your swim bottoms.

“You look perfect,” he whispered in your ear, nuzzling.

You had accepted his invination the second time his man had come around. Yua had been more than receptive to the prospect, Natalie following closely behind. She had gotten drawn in by Natasha, much to your amusement. Steve had been doting all evening, charming you with light conversation and compliments. Drink after drink until he asked you to come to one of the bedrooms, which is where you learned this was Bruce Banner’s house. Natalie had been too enthralled with Natasha’s beautiful eyes to notice Steve lead you away.

Turning around in his embrace, you faced him, arms draping around his neck. Steve’s hands trailed down the seams of your swimsuit before his fingers crept underneath, cupping your ass.

“I knew you were a good girl all the way across the pool,” Steve growled, rumbling low deep in his chest. Your hips moved with the way his hands floated across your sides.

Taking the reins – even for a minute – you pulled away, your hand trailing down his chest before falling away. You turned, walking towards the king bed, a saunter in your hips. Steve followed you like a well-trained dog, climbing on top of you as you laid back against the plush pillows. He rutted into you, his lips leaving bruising kisses against your jawline.

He gripped the hem of your swimsuit, yanking them down, and you finished the job by kicking them off. Traveling further, he brushed his fingers against your wet folds, his thumb brushing your clit. You keened, bucking towards him, desperate for more.

“For a minute there, I thought you were just trying to tease me for a thrill…” he said, trailing off. His fingers pressed in, stroking slowly and you whimpered. “But it looks like you were really looking for a good fuck.” He bit at your mouth and you dragged your teeth across his lips. He moaned in response. “You are a catch, aren’t you, doll face?”

You simpered at his old timey nickname, but you felt a rush at his attention.

Steve sat up, undoing the belt of his slacks and pulling out roughly, tossing it aside. His pants and briefs followed, kicking himself out of them. He pinned you to the bed, his weight pressing down on you. He trailed his lips down your chest, nuzzling his nose into your suit, finding your nipple and giving it a soft suck. You moaned lightly as his tongue swirled around, working you up. His fingers were back at your clit, stroking you in tandem with his eager mouth against your breast.

He only let you ride that rhythm for a short while before he straightened up, his hard cock brushing against your thighs. “Get on your stomach. Arch your back.”

You quickly obeyed, displaying yourself to him. He hummed in approval, running his thumb up your folds, causing you to shiver, before you felt him at your entrance. His cock slid in easily as his fingers wrapped up in your hair, yanking your head back to meet his eagerly waiting lips.

“Oh, I am going to use you all night,” he declared, his lips moving over yours.

You were surely going to be sore tomorrow.

Spent, you laid next to him, your arm draped over his chest in the tangled sheets. Both of your bodies were still covered in a sheen of sweat, but you were relaxed. There was a good ache between your thighs, one that you were going to remember for a long while. He sure was good in bed.

His fingers hooked up underneath your chin, tipping your head up to look at him. You smiled sensually in response, much to his arousal.

“Mhm,” he exhaled deeply, his fingers caressing your jawline affectionately. “You are going to give me a run for my money, aren’t you?”

He was talking like he was thinking this was going to turn into something more than a one-night stand. You played it cool.

“I wouldn’t say money per say, but… I’m sure to give you a run. An exciting one.”

“I look forward to it.”

Something about the glint in his eyes turned your stomach but you were far too comfortable wrapped up in his arms, the thrill of having him wrapped around your finger for the time being overriding any sense of caution.

[sapphire-heart-tippy]

I thought I'd go ahead and share my headcanons and head-backstory for Vanilla Ice! I've visited his wiki multiple times and there's not that much on there so I went ahead and made stuff up heheh (keep in mind I will not be angry or upset if you don't share the same/similar hcs, this is all kind of personal to me anyway ^^")

• Vanilla was given up for adoption as a baby because his parents couldn't take care of him

Edit: My pronouns have changed to he/him and xe/xem only, and I am more masc now! The sapphire heartverse fic is finished and the story below has been changed drastically!

[The Sapphire Heartverse takes place in modern times because it's a nonsensical universe where all the characters are in the same place at the same time. However, these headcanons are also for the 80's Vanilla]

• His life in the orphanage was very difficult. The caretakers didn't like him or any of the other children. They were very neglected and abused. The caretakers would make him do chores until he passed out.

• Vanilla's real name is Ezekiel. "Vanilla" was a nickname given to him as a child by a woman who wanted to adopt him. She brought him icecream one day and he wouldn't want to have any other flavor but vanilla, he was a picky eater enough as it is. He had it all over his face and was having the most fun he'd ever had in his life. The woman thought he was the sweetest thing in the world so nicknamed him "Vanilla Icecream". Adoption can be a difficult process and just when he was about to be adopted, she was murdered while getting mugged. The caretakers made fun of him for mourning her and things got even worse after that.

• Vanilla has similar trauma to what I've gone through and that's all I'm going to say. This, plus all the other abuse and neglect, caused him to be extremely clingy and willing to do anything for affection. He felt numb and agony at the same time.

• At times it felt like Cream was his only friend. Cream is the physical manifestation of the endless void in his heart. No matter what or how much Cream consumes, he is still starving and cannot be satisfied, much like a prita from folklore. This shows how much Vanilla is starving for affection of any kind. [I'm not entirely sure canonically if he was born with his stand or if he got shot with the stand arrow. I've seen that in the game, Heritage For The Future, when Alessi turns him into a child, Vanilla still has his stand and he looks absolutely adorable. This could be canon or could be strictly for the fight. I also do not have access to HFTF at the moment, so all I have to go off of is Google searches.]

• Vanilla got kicked out as soon as he became a legal adult. He was homeless for a while until he worked up enough money to be able to bathe and eat better and get new clothes. Vanilla found out about Dio and how he could pay good money in exchange for a live-in servant. Dio knew right away that Vanilla was the one.

• Vanilla lived there for a while and became a very very loyal servant. He was paid well and got to eat, drink clean water, and a warm place to sleep. Vanilla devoted his life to serving Dio and finally felt that void in his heart be filled. He showered Dio with love and did everything he was told. Vanilla fell head over heels in love with Dio.

• Dio would praise him, compliment him, rub his head as Vanilla kneeled, and of course, they would both engage in adult activities. Dio could count on Vanilla to do anything and everything asked or commanded.

• Vanilla was the maid, the cook, the guard dog, he was pretty much a caring house husband for Dio and he loved every second of it.

[Sapphire Heartverse crossover]

! Some things have been altered in the fanfic. The fanfic is the true canon. !

• Everything changed when Dio wanted a live-in commissioner to draw and paint pictures of him whenever he pleased.

• Vanilla reacted neutrally to Tippy at first, but... Dio started praising that boy more often than he would with Vanilla. Poor Vans felt so jealous and upset and strongly disliked Tippy and thus the petty rivalry was born

• One day, Dio commanded Vanilla to protect Tippy and guard him with his life because he didn't want anything to happen to his precious little commissioner. Vanilla felt like he was going to scream!!

• Tippy wasn't very thrilled with this idea either. In fact he would use his stand, Sapphire Heart, frequently to get away from situations he didn't want to be in. The power is called invisibreak.

• That little blue haired rascal would often pull pranks, cause trouble, mildly vandalize things, steal candy, and has even made friends with Jonathan Joestar's disembodied head in the fridge.

• Vanilla was stressed out and exhausted from all of the annoying antics. He decided to give Tippy a good scolding, but the blue haired menace disappeared using invisibreak. Vanilla thought that Tippy could teleport, but.... He turned around and saw them lying face down on the ground completely unconscious.

• Vanilla was confused at first but then he started to panic when they wouldn't wake up. He listened to their chest and they were still breathing, their heart was still beating, everything was fine. Vanilla picked them up and carried them to a couch in hopes that everything would be okay and Dio wouldn't be upset with him.

• When Tippy came to, Vanilla asked frantically what the hell just happened and why did they pass out. Tippy explained that sometimes when they turn invisible and intangible for too long, they lose so much energy they pass out. It clicked for Vanilla. When he used to use Cream to move around, he would pass out too.

• Vanilla decided to train Tippy on how to use their stand better. Dio caught them both training and told Vanilla it's a good idea to teach Tippy more about his stand and to train him to fight.

• Over time, Vanilla would train Tippy but always win because they just didn't want to fight. Vanilla has even physically pinned them down before, and it was met with laughter. One day Tippy got bold and accidentally sliced off Vanilla's right bang with Sapphire's diamond spear. Oh, Vanilla was pissed.

• For quite some time it was Vanilla being fed up with Tippy's pranks and jokes, and Tippy pranking or running away from Vanilla after he had caused mischief.

• Though.... As much as Vanilla didn't want to admit it, protecting and watching over Tippy has been the most fun he's ever had in his life!

• One day Tippy got sick and tried to play it cool. Vanilla wasn't having any of that, he made sure they were resting in bed, drinking fluids, and ate. Vanilla enjoyed fussing over Tippy, even when they told him he didn't need to.

• They have always been foils for each other. Vanilla is more strict and serious while following all the rules to the letter, while Tippy is more rebellious and chaotic and always wanting to crack a joke out of nowhere. But together they are unstoppable

• Dio had experimented on them using a fusion spell. That turned them into Blue-Raspberry Snowcone, or Razz for short. He is the fusion of Vanilla and Tippy and is extremely powerful but extremely unstable and could accidentally hurt himself if not careful. (I'll go into detail about that one day)

• After a while, something happened. Vanilla couldn't hear a peep out of Tippy and was wondering what was going on. Soon he found them silently crying in the hallway. He couldn't even tell they were crying until they looked up at him. Vanilla's heart shattered, he's never seen Tippy cry before. They talked it out and Vanilla started to like them a lot more after that.

• Soon Vanilla developed strong feelings towards Tippy, but hated the fact he did. Vanilla had the biggest crush on that boy and couldn't handle it

• When some people started making fun of Tippy behind his back, Vanilla became enraged and scared them off. He soon grew more protective of that young man, more than he would ever think possible. Vanilla used to do the bare minimum of protection, but now he's always on guard.

• Vanilla will put his arm out to make sure Tippy doesn't go near danger, he instinctively steps in front of them to shield them, he opens things for them, he reaches off the top shelf for them, he does anything he can to make sure they're safe and don't get hurt.

• All the other agents started to notice that Vanilla would smile a lot more and the way he would look at Tippy. Even Dio noticed and he totally shipped it oh my gawd-

• Everyone knew about Vanilla's crush but Tippy. Well, about that... Tippy actually vented to Jonathan about having a crush on Vanilla waaaaay back then. Jonathan would listen to Tippy talk constantly about Vanilla, while being carried around the mansion or sitting on the desk where he worked.

• Tippy would tell Jonathan everything. How he thinks Vanilla's cute, he likes the fact he trips over his own feet, how pretty Vanilla's hair is, how he can't look him in the eyes because he thinks they're so pretty, how he likes the way he laughs, how good Vanilla is at using his stand, how he protects him, how talented he is at drawing as well, how tall he is, how muscular, how he never breaks a promise, Vanilla's hobbies including making his own heart shaped jewelry. Tippy went on and on to Jonathan about how cool he thinks Vanilla is and how he really likes him... And that's why he keeps messing with him, pulling pranks or causing mischief for his attention, and trying to make him laugh.

• So one day, Vanilla decided it would be a good idea to put this to rest and tell Tippy how he really feels. He couldn't exactly do it so he just asked to hang out at the mall instead heheh!

• It was a date... They even touched hands on accident and it was so awkward, their faces were hot. Vanilla noticed Tippy was blushing very much and had hope. They both went somewhere a bit more private and Vanilla confessed his feelings... Tippy tried to say that he likes him back but it came out weird. In the heat of the moment, Tippy pulled Vanilla by the shirt and kissed him. Vanilla was shocked at first but he soon gave a passionate kiss back.

• That's about it for now!

[ikeromantic]

Loyalty

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic. This scene occurs at the start of Ch. 10 it the main route. Alternately titled Taking Out the Trash. Approx. 2300 words.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Right

Evening fell in a grey hush. At least to Mitsuhide’s eyes, though his vision was grainy, blurred at the edges. He couldn’t trust the little spots of color that blossomed in halos around candles and lanterns. There were no such lights in this abandoned warehouse. Only what came from the setting sun, and the rising moon and stars. 

“My lord, our forces are in place. Scouts indicate the monks have retreated beyond Honno-ji - should we bring them in?”

“No. They are unimportant. What of the Oda vassals? Nobunaga? Any movement?” Mitsuhide’s voice betrayed nothing of his exhaustion. It sounded cold and distant in his ears. 

The warrior nodded. “What is your command?”

“Tell them to hold. I will give the signal to move in after full dark.” He watched the warrior run off to pass the message on to the Imagawa, and the rag-tag militia Yoshiaki had conscripted for this attack. 

Mitsuhide stood, stretching. His joints popped and his bones creaked. Every aging bruise felt fresh, sending a pulsing ache through his body. He made no sound as he forced himself to prepare for the coming fight. There were so many variables. So many points where it could all fall apart. 

Outside, the grey faded to a dark blue, the depth swimming with tiny white stars. The moon sat above the horizon, fat and round and full. Men in armor whispered in alleyways and shadows, voices lost in the cold night breeze. There were no other sounds. No chirping crickets or hunting owls. 

Mitsuhide left his warehouse, signaling to the men that now, now it was time. He drew his sword, stilling the trembling of his hands. Just a little more. 

He rushed forward, silent as he covered the ground between himself and Honno-ji. Behind him, his troops also ran, their steps a wild drumbeat. The next few breaths were chaos. The flash of blades in moonlight, violent exhalation as men breathed their last, and the savage of shouts of men in blood-lust.

On the balcony above them, Mitsuhide made out a shape. Someone standing at the railing, looking down. Despite the darkness, he knew it was her. His little one. Watching. He had not wanted her to be here, but now, somehow, it felt right to him that she was. That she witness this moment.

The kitsune warlord avoided the door guards and the smattering of vassals between himself and the large inner chamber where he knew Nobunaga would make his stand. Behind him, Yoshiaki’s vassals crowded into the halls, keeping track of Mitsuhide’s movements to be certain he could not betray their lord. It might have made him laugh, if he had breath for it.

He heard more than saw Hideyoshi charge out to meet Yoshimoto and the Imagawa at the main doors of the temple. It was impossible not to recognize his voice, even in this pandemonium. That should hold most of the conscripts and mercenaries. Mitsuhide chanced a look back to make sure the shogun’s men were still following. They hadn’t lost any ground, and better, it seemed they’d summoned their lord now that victory was imminent.

“My liege! Nobunaga is this way,” Mitsuhide called, motioning Yoshiaki toward him. Then he turned back, leapt up the narrow stairway, and kicked in the door. 

His calculated melodramatics had the desired effect on everyone but Nobunaga. Yoshiaki’s vassals filed into the room, cocky and self assured. And the shogun himself followed. 

Mitsuhide’s gaze pulled toward the woman at Nobunaga’s side, but he refused to let them rest on her. He could see enough. She was safe. Unhurt. So far. The kitsune warlord forced his eyes to his target. “It’s been a while, Nobunaga.” 

There was nothing but confidence in those carnelian eyes as Nobunaga greeted him. 

Yoshiaki strode into the room, his soldiers moving aside to make way. “I hope the great fool of Owari is not too foolish to realize when he is bested.” 

“Oh? As opposed to you who was too foolish to realize all the times I called you an idiot to your face?” Nobunaga’s left brow rose as his lips turned up in a mocking grin.

“He’s trying to be funny, I see.” Yoshiaki’s mouth twisted with distaste as his vassals all gave a forced laugh. 

Mitsuhide kept his expression cold, and added his own polite chuckle to the shogun’s words. He had to hold to his role a while longer yet, no matter how plainly distasteful. He caught sight of his little mouse sticking out her tongue - and for a breath his laughter was genuine. Only she would make such a face at a shogun. Only she would have so little a care for her own safety. 

Finished with his failed word games, Ashikaga turned to Mitsuhide. “Go now and finish the job. Just . . . don’t get any blood on my robes.” He swept a hand over the fine embroidered silk, as if suddenly realizing battle was a messy affair.

“As you wish, your excellency.” Mitsuhide gave a slight bow. It gave him a moment to check his composure. It seemed there were no bounds to Yoshiaki’s arrogance nor his ridiculous demands. What a sad creature, he thought. To be such a useless creature and to still be so certain of your own importance. 

He held his sword toward Nobunaga, preparing to strike. One of the Oda guards launched himself forward, intent on defending his lord. 

And as if Mitsuhide had scripted the moment himself, the other guard lunged, plunging his sword into the defender’s back. Revealing himself as the traitor embedded in the Oda forces, the hidden blade Mitsuhide’s spies had been unable to identify. How fortuitous. 

Dying, the guard turned to his friend, stumbling against him. “Why? Why -” did you kill me - the words died in a rattling breath.

The other guard shoved the body to the floor, his expression one of triumph. “I fooled you all! My life and my loyalty have always belonged to the shogun!” He turned to Nobunaga. “This is the end for you.”

The Ashikaga vassals pressed in close, grabbing Nobunaga’s arms and forcing him down in front of Yoshiaki. 

Mitsuhide surreptitiously watched his little one, making sure she stayed clear of the violence. She didn’t look afraid, even now. Just shocked and angry. Some of the soldiers grabbed her and held her down. Seeing them handle her like that made his jaw clench. If she had a single bruise, he thought, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his hilt tightly. 

“Mitsuhide,” Yoshiaki called. “Remove the Devil King’s head from his neck and offer it to me as a gift of your loyalty.” 

And now he had his opening. The moment he’d hoped this farce would provide. Mitsuhide smiled his knife-sharp smile. He advanced, the sharp edge of his sword gleaming in the pale moonlight. Then he struck. His blade bit into the fine, embroidered silk of the shogun’s clothes and parted the flesh of his chest and belly just as easily. But with Mitsuhide’s fading strength, the strike was not a killing blow.

Ashikaga stumbled back, eyes wide with shock. He held a hand to his stomach and then pulled it away, staring at the crimson smear in confusion.

“Dearest me,” Mitsuhide’s grin widened. His golden eyes shone. “How clumsy I am.” He lifted his sword for another attack. “I meant that to be a killing blow. It looks, well, it looks quite painful.” 

The shogun’s vassals flung themselves between Mitsuhide and Yoshiaki, ready to spend their lives to keep their lord safe. But they were too slow. 

Fighting through his fatigue, Mitsuhide dodged behind the flailing shogun and forced the man to his knees. He brought his sword to Ashikaga’s throat. “I wouldn’t make another move, were I you. It might startle me into cutting right through his throat.”

He could see behind the men, his little mouse standing up. She straightened her clothes and shot him a proud smile. It felt so good to see her look at him like that. As if he were a hero.

Yoshiaki trembled, though Mitsuhide could not be sure if it was fear or anger. “You - you can’t betray me! Not here! You’ve - you’ve gone mad!”

Mitsuhide laughed. “Well, you are right about one thing. I can’t betray you. I was never loyal to you.” He pressed his knee into the shogun’s back, forcing him to lean forward, into the sharp edge. “I am loyal to my ideals alone.”

Nobunaga began to laugh. “And that is why you are my left-hand.” He stood and straightened his clothes, sauntering over to where Mitsuhide held the shogun.

“My liege.” Mitsuhide nodded to him. 

“You base, vile, traitorous dog!” Yoshiaki’s voice was shaking. “D-don’t you know the penalty for laying a hand on me is ruin?” He turned his gaze to Nobunaga. “You may think you control things, you foul upstart, but I am still shogun! You will lose everything for this!”

“Oh, I think not. Nobunaga will retain his good standing with the court.” Mitsuhide tugged Ashikaga’s head back so that the shogun was forced to look up at him. “You see, it will be I, Mitsuhide Akechi - traitor - who is guilty of your murder.”

Nobunaga shook his head. “I should have known that was why you arranged this theater. You sly kitsune.” 

“That’s why you never told anyone what you were up to. So only you would be found guilty . . .” His little mouse spoke up from where she stood, just out of reach. Her expression was troubled. 

Mitsuhide met her gaze, wishing he could tell her how difficult it had been to hold to this path. How he’d wanted to share his burden with her, and yet, never wanted his misdeeds to sully her. How even now he wanted to put this behind him and take her away from here. But even if he could tell her these things, such wishes were meaningless.

“Are you saying you had this all planned? That you expected my messenger?” Yoshiaki swallowed carefully past the sharp edge of Mitsuhide’s sword. 

The kitsune warlord smiled down at him menacingly. 

“E-even if you kill me, none of you will survive. My army will sweep in here and slaughter all of you.”

Nobunaga glanced down from the balcony as if remembering something. The chatelaine’s gaze followed and even Mitshide found himself looking that direction. 

Out from the dark road, armor glinting coldly, there came a sound of a thousand men shouting.

“Wha- what is that,” Yoshiaki tried to turn himself to see.

Above the roar of voices, one stood out. “Is this where the traitor Mitsuhide Akechi has hidden?” 

“Masamune?” The chatelaine said softly, her eyes going wide.

Ashikaga sputtered. “You- you brought an army to Kyoto? How do you expect to get away with that? The court-”

“Will know that the Oda forces came here in search of that vile traitor, Akechi,” Nobunaga interrupted. “And if they happen across allies under attack, no one would blame them for offering assistance.” He smiled. “Now do you understand?”

Mitsuhide felt a moment of genuine respect for Nobunaga. He couldn’t have crafted a better response himself. He removed his sword from the shogun’s throat and kicked him forward. He was ready to be finished with this. “Now, your excellency, it is time for you to gracefully die.” 

His sword arced through the thin, cold air. And came down hard enough to part bone. But it was Ashikaga’s vassal that took the hit, leaping forward to use his body as a shield. What a bother, Mitsuhide thought. That such an arrogant ass could still hold sway over otherwise good men.

“Quickly, peasants! Guard me!” Yoshiaki crawled toward them, letting his men form a human wall.

Mitsuhide stepped forward, intent on finishing the job. The shogun could not leave here alive tonight. But he stopped, turning back to Nobunaga.

“Go after them,” Nobunaga urged.

“Yes - but first, the chatelaine -” he gestured toward his little mouse. “She should be taken somewhere safe-”

Nobunaga pushed her forward gently. “Go with Mitsuhide. You are ordered to stay by his side at all times.” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Maybe I should hide instead of getting in Mitsuhide’s way?”

Mitsuhide nodded, glad she said something sensible when he was slow to respond. 

“You will obey.” The command was unmistakable. “Further, when the battle has ended you will bring Mitsuhide back to Azuchi.” He arched one dark eyebrow as if daring her to make him repeat himself.

She turned to Mitsuhide with a wicked smile. “Alright. You can count on me. I promise, I won’t ever leave Mitsuhide’s side again.” She reached out and took his hand, not seeming to mind the sticky, drying blood or the cold sweat on his skin. 

Mitsuhide was torn. These were words his heart yearned to hear and yet - this was not the time or the place. This was a battle and she, and she could not be at his side, where all swords would be turned against her. He tried to say so, to speak reason, but his throat would not let a word pass. 

“Your response,” Nobunaga pressed.

Her hand was so warm in his. Mitsuhide could not let go. It was too late for that. “If my lord commands it,” he said softly. The words were barely audible. And yet, he found himself smiling.

Next: Not An End