#but i have been summoned and assigned and who am i to decline their call

[akkivee]

🫡🫡🫡

[ncitygirls]

only - changbin x f reader

angst, fluff, suggestive, royal!au, cw: war, 5.3k

you were barely eighteen when you accepted the hand in marriage of the son of the duke and duchess of levanter. seo changbin - an affluent heir to an impossible fortune - almost had you surprised when you found his interest in you was unlike that of your fellow bachelorettes. naturally, their interest was fuelled by an insatiable greed and a hot desire for financial prosperity. as should yours, as was yours. not changbin though. no, changbin prided himself on many things unfitting for a man of his status, even his age. he wondered not of your family’s alliances or existing trading partners, but of religion and upbringing. he tsked at mention of your international estates, unless in regard to your memories there. he was complimentary of your attire, less in expense but rather in beauty. changbin wanted to know of your favourite season, and your preferred time of day. who was your favourite poet, and from them your favourite poem. he was obsessed with your knowledge of the world, or rather your interest in it. you had been to neo, but did you really see it, really explore? and if not would you care to? did you prefer sugar or honey in your tea? your bread buttered or oiled? to sleep bare or in silk? he wanted to know what side of the bed you preferred to sleep on, if you were adverse to cuddling and if so, if you could be persuaded.

to be fair, he only spoke with you like this for two reasons. the first being your shared upbringing. after almost two decades of friendship, having you enter his home in the prospect of being his wife didn’t come as a surprise to the young bachelor, but rather a relief. he spent days in and days out discussing family politics, ancestry, and accounts. he chose to ignore the blatant issue there, sharing the intricacies of his family’s wealth and heritage with these ladies from kingdoms and countries he’d been too busy to pay any mind in schooling. he knew his ignorance could come back to bite him and it did, especially as you entered his home looking far prettier than he had ever recalled you looking. he held his tongue before he could whistle, but you could see his smirk all the same. it softened into a grin as he bowed, you returning the pleasantry with a lot less pleasantness than he offered you. he welcomed it all the same. it was why he could be free on this day. speak about the things that would effect you two as one another’s, not you two as one.

your presence also meant he didn’t have to pussyfoot around. he didn’t have to fear your hatred, nor your judgement. though your eyes rolled more than the actual number of potential brides he had become acquainted with. he let f bombs slip, and his guard down. he frolicked with you through the grounds you already knew so well, and guided you through the parts once forbidden to the rambunctious children you once were. he walked you to the kitchen and asked for bread, as opposed to stealing it like you both once would. he tried to describe the estate’s chambers as best he could, detailing the art a then prince hyunjin had gifted him and your childish scratchings still on his door frame.

‘you can see it one day,’ he had whispered under the willow tree on the grounds, watching the way your fingers clung loosely to the weeping leaves. ‘it’s still as it was when we were children.’

‘and how would i do that?’ the question is valid enough, though he frowns, tilting his head. ‘i did not realise i had uttered a riddle, my lord.’

‘well neither had i,’ he tutted, moving to latch onto the same branch you once held. ‘and here i was, assuming you to be the smart one.’

‘i am the smart one.’

‘then answer me this,’ he began, pausing to firmly elaborate, ‘plainly.’ your eyes roll for the umpteenth time at his silent warning before you concede with a nod. ‘how might you see my bed?’

with a sigh you deadpan, ‘if you were to make me your wife.’

‘so to see my bed, and your vandalism-’

‘scribbles.’

‘i must make you my wife.’

‘it seems quite the extreme just to see some old scribbles.’ if changbin senses the hidden meaning to your words, he gave nought away. ‘mightn’t someone just bring me a piece of the bed? i’m sure it’s almost past its use, just peel the pane off. and why still the same bed? you are a young lord of age now, don’t you think-’

‘you know you prattle when you’re nervous?’

‘i do no such thing-’

‘it’s cute.’

‘changbin! how are you so sure i want to be your wife, hm?’ you half questioned, moving away from his looming figure. ‘i only came because your parents asked me here.’

‘y/n, i have known you a long time,’ he punctuates his reminder by closing the distance you so bravely placed between you. ‘if you wished not to be here, you would have found no greater pleasure than to decline the invitation.’ that much is not only true but undeniable. the seo’s was your third courting invite this month alone. you knew, and worse, changbin knew. ‘is it so hard to admit that i might have soften that hardened heart of yours?’

‘i find no pleasure in your games, changbin.’

‘what game, y/n? can a man not just want you?’ your eyes betray you as you try to expel the softness conjured by his taunt. a taunt that is starting to sound less like a taunt, and more like a confession. ‘can i not just want you?’

‘how do i know you want me, bin?’ you pressed, pressing your back to the leaning trunk of the all encompassing tree. ‘how do i know you don’t just want a way out of this endless cycle of mindless heiresses?’

‘you said my parents asked you here?’ your head bobbed as he approached you, nodding in time with you before he stopped a foot before you, smiling eyes gazing right at you. ‘who do you think asked them?’

you were married that fall. under that same willow tree, in the presence of his royal highness and his kin, your family and the seos. the affair was small like you both wanted. small like your needs. you joked marrying you was a cop out, as he spun you around the gardens, escaping the intimate celebrations in the grand banquet hall to enjoy the breeze on your skin and feel the wind in your hair. it was the first time he held you since your dance lessons as kids. where you would lead and he would follow. he once swore he would follow you anywhere. both literally and figuratively. around the grounds of your childhood home, in all your beliefs and ideologies. he filled his mind and self with your gospel and truth, infatuated with your manner of thinking, how you arrived at conclusions. changbin spent his whole childhood falling in love with you.

‘you weren’t a cop out,’ he breathed into the shell of your ear, humming as you lay your head on his shoulder. pressing his lips to your temple he confessed, ‘you were my only choice.’

that night, the two of you consummated your marriage under that same willow tree. his hands clinging to your waist as he ground his hips into you. his tightened breaths filling the drum of your ear with every snap, his lips closing around the skin of your jaw, summoning the most satisfying whines he could draw from you. his lover. his friend. his lady.

in his absence, you remind him of this night. how biting the bark had been on your skin, the autumn air stinging your already teary eyes. his last letter arrived over a fortnight ago, it spoke of his fears at battle, the treacherous methods of his enemies. the only face he prays to see again and until that day, the only face he will dream of. you have sent a handful of letters since then, yet still sour as you awake another day to no news. you sigh as you grab your quill, letting the ink drip before signing off your letter.

‘my dearest, changbin. a season separates us, but only a season could.’

it isn’t long after you seal it that you are summoned to the hwang holiday estate. the royal family have a long history of retreating to the country when the weather is a touch higher than that of luke warm water, or near cool cinder. the seo’s residence is but a short carriage ride from the estate, though a tad longer walk. you often opt to walk as you do today, taking no larger than foot long strides between the cobbled paths. your guard walks in time with you, though no more than a few feet behind. he had never been one for small talk, you quickly came to realise. though, since neither is your husband, you feel an odd sense of relief, normality, even in his absence. you try and enjoy the song of the breeze through the willow, the scent of the king’s rose garden carried on its back. it’s hard over the creak of your guard’s hurried stomps, his pace doubling with every corner you take. you only verbalise your awareness of his impatience when he arrives beside you, hastened to strike the door to announce your arrival.

“master yang,” you call softly as you two await entry. “if i did not know any better, i would say you were rushing me.”

“apologies, my lady,” he confesses, stepping back at your side without any question. though, when he gulps, you eye him with a softened concern. “i was informed you were summoned due to a grave emergency.”

“worry not, jeongin.” you chide, recalling your highness’ idea of an emergency. “the king often calls when the queen is away and he is tasked with matters such as assigning dinner seating.” jeongin looks as if he is about to ask when you add, “she says his involvement humbles him.” when he nods, you straighten as the door swings open, a servant welcoming you in. “yes, there is nothing to fear, master yang.”

only, falser words had never been spoken.

you are quick to note the tremor in the king’s frame as he hurries to stand upon your arrival, rushing you through the official pleasantries of an official summoning. “lady seo.”

“your highness.” you reply, your knee bending as you politely lower your head. “how are you on this fine afternoon-”

“i apologise, y/n. but as you know, i didn’t call you hear on matters of leisure.” he politely interrupts, a flush of embarrassment flooding his cheeks as you frown. “when was last you heard from him?”

“heard from who?”

“from—” hyunjin’s confused gaze cuts to his informants, a few members of his court shying away from him before he marvels at them. “has lady seo not been informed?” when he receives no reply, you feel yourself shrink as the gentle king bellows, “why has lady seo not been informed?”

“informed of what—”

“the order of information begins with yourself sire, before reaching the court, the council, the lady and then the people.”

“i specifically requested she be kept informed. why has she not been kept informed?”

“well, your grace, the lady of a knight is only to be informed once official word is received from the battlefield and delivered to you sire.”

“official word of what—”

“which came through this morning and you are about to deliver the information to the lady.”

“king hyunjin!”

gasps fill the room from all but the king himself. he doesn’t falter, instead he turns to move towards you, his eyes growing more fearful, more earnest as he approaches. he shudders at the thought of delivering this message. he even scolds himself for attempting to delegate such responsibility. you are a friend. not only to the crown, but to the royal family itself. before heavy crowns kissed their heads. before rings ever kissed your knuckles. you were his friend. you had always been a friend to him, and the only time you had ever needed him was now and he had let you down.

“we received word that neo soldiers stormed our fortress in miroh. while we have received word from a few troops who were able to escape, we have yet to ascertain who of the full fleet have made it to safety.” when he pauses to gulp he sees your eyes gleam, breaths shallow. his hands then find yours, gripping your shaky, sweaty digits tightly. “we have received no word from changbin’s troop,” he stops when you gasp, your tears falling, cascading down and around your stained cheeks, your lip trembling. “but we have been able to track a number of our men back through the yellow wood, south of levanter.”

“i-is he there? is he okay?”

“we are yet to hear word,” the tears continue to fall, and he hates himself but all he can do is continue, divulge everything he knows. “they plan to set up camp on the edge of the wood, so i will make my way there now and have word sent back to you as soon as i find him.”

“no,” you refuse, snatching your hands away to drag them over your stained cheeks. “i cannot wait, i will join you.”

“as will i,” jeongin pipes up behind you, his voice an odd comfort once more. “your grace.”

“it is no place for a lady,” hyunjin tries, sighing when you just scowl, already mid curtsey as you preempt his agreement and dismissal. “i will have a carriage sent for you at once.”

“would taking just a horse quicken my arrival?”

“i-it would,” he discloses reluctantly, watching you ready yourself to decline the carriage. “for my sake though,” your scowl returns, ignoring the concern from the king. “i implore you to take the carriage. the yellow wood is far from kind..” you decode his meaning before he ever finishes speaking. the yellow wood is far from safe.

“but is this not the same wood my husband’s troop plans to take, sire?” hyunjin’s nod comes seconds later, shame tensing his jaw. hyunjin is visibly trying to appreciate your patience after having all this information dumped on you. but hyunjin also recalls the threats you readily made and followed through on in your younger years. so much so, he fears the worst of you when you bow before slowly approaching him, voice but a decibel higher than a nat’s buzz to threaten him. the king. before as many witnesses as it takes to have your head. “fine. i will take the carriage.

“but i regret to inform you i have fallen victim to the sick allure of hope. so if this carriage takes him from me? if i am too late? i will burn your kingdom to the ground, jinnie. mark my words.”

only once you leave does hyunjin breathe, noticably shaken by the violent rage existing within the women of his kingdom. “ready her carriage.” he suddenly commands, terrified of letting you down. “i want her there by nightfall.”

hyunjin had not embellished the treachery of this road. you had halted close to ten times in the first six hours of the journey. thanks to forewarning by the king and his council, your guards were prepared to be extra vigilant. weary from all sides of the carriage, bandits who fell from the trees and ambushed from the sides did not live long enough to prevail. from dawn til dusk, the wood falsified night with its woven rotted branches and the gradually setting sun, seeing was becoming more hopeless yet more crucial. without a maid for travelling company and jeongin busy guarding your personage, you were once again left with your thoughts. in times of dire woe, you called on memories of your love, though they read more like dreams. this dream is one that only longing for the man you prayed awaited you on the end of this perilous journey could conjure. because not only do you miss him, you fear for him. not much has changed.

‘you think i am going to get myself killed?’ he breathed, nipping at your clavicle as you rest in his lap. ‘have you no faith in me?’

‘of course i do,’ you defend, gasping as he clamps down, teeth rolling your skin. ‘i just-’

‘you just.. what?’ he doesn’t expect an answer. or so you suspect. especially following a slow drag of your thinly veiled heat over his firmed thigh. ‘you think i would ever abandon you?’

‘no, binnie,’ you start, rising from him with a sigh. ‘i just know you.’

‘you do?’ he ponders sweetly, gazing up at your shining eyes. ‘and what is it you know?’

‘you’re powerful, but far too stubborn.’

‘you know,’ he hums, crossing his thick arms as a small pout steals the lips of the strongest man in the kingdom. ‘for someone who claims to adore me, you tend to speak ill of me every chance you get, my lady.’

‘must the two be exclusive?’ when his frown only deepens, his folded arms tightening, you sigh once more. returning to his spread legs, you perch yourself on them, raising your steady fingers to the creases painting the forehead of the most stubborn man you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. he softens only slightly, his pouted lip closing around yours when you lean in, silently asking his forgiveness. ‘for every ill spoken word, i make up for with countless good, bin.’

‘such as?’ he huffs, knowingly egging you on.

with a small smile, you offer a final peck to his lips before praising the knight beneath you. ‘i know you will fight valiantly.’ you admit, pride permeating right through you to the man you call yours. ‘you will bring honour to your family, to your country.’ with the pads of your fingers, you tuck his hair behind his ear, cooing as he relaxes at your touch. ‘you will be a hero, my love.’

‘and this all worries you?’

‘do you know who will keep your legacy alive, changbin?’ his frown returns at concern for your quivering lip, a sudden fear seeping into your tone. ‘me. your widow.’ he begins to shake his head, a half assed assurance on the tip of his prideful tongue when you remind, ‘it may vex you to hear this, but please remember your knighting was in part an award for your bravery, but also in large part to hyunjin’s love for you.’

‘how can you say that-’

‘since bang chan the brave, name a knight who lived to see his knighting. just one, bin. name one who knelt before their king and felt the sword atop their shoulders. name one who did not die in battle, leaving their grieving widow to accept a meaningless commendation of his honour?’

‘you call your father’s commendation meaningless?’

‘don’t make me laugh, bin.’ your scoff would wound him had you not uttered, ‘i would have rathered he be the one to walk me down the isle the day i married you. knowing my father loved me enough to protect his country is a nice sentiment, but don’t you dare assume i would take that honour over his life.’

‘hey,’ he calls, holding you in his lap as you try to move from him. ‘my love, i didn’t mean to offend.’

‘i know,’ in these seconds you see past the facade, the knight that your husband is. you only see what you fell in love with. you see the compassion, the understanding. ‘bin, i need you to understand. really understand.’ with his cheeks cradled in your palms, you plead with your love. ‘you mean everything to me, seo changbin. before i ever realised you did. i will not let this mindless war take you from me.

‘don’t be a hero, changbin. leave that to some village boy with a chip on his shoulder, with something to prove.’ he nuzzles into your palm as he listens to your plea, gazing into your warning eyes. ‘just come back to me, okay? don’t make me beg.’

‘what if it helped your case?’ he mumbled into your skin, his lips gently puckering as his palms glide up the side of your neck. his tongue slid betwixt your parted lips, trying to exorcise any and all tension from your trembling frame. with another soft pucker of his lips, a suck on your wet muscle has you loosening, falling into him as he moves to embrace you. ‘would you?’

‘do not mock me.’

‘i would never,’ you find this hard to believe as he smirks like a man with ten knives readied for your back. they come as kisses instead, they line the column of your neck, followed closely by his thumbs as he angles your head toward him. ‘you just seem ready to, so i would love to hear it.’

‘perhaps i will marry that lee boy, with the speckled cheeks. i hear the maids think he’s a descendant of fairies, born from the very stars that kiss his face-’ the words halt in your throat as he flips you, firmly pinning you to the goose down.

‘you seem to have thought this through..’

‘have i much choice?’ you huff, glaring at his thoughtful gaze. ‘one tends to ponder such things when faced with their husband’s imminent demise.’ he only sighs, eyes rolling skyward as he asks the gods, old and new, why they ever chose you for him. ‘i hear his line is filled only with beautiful men. who was his ancestor again? minho the something.’

‘you know,’ refusing to come to your aid, he gathering up the hem of your silks. ‘most men would have your head by now.’

‘-magnificent! it was minho the magnificent!’

‘maleficent.’

‘hm?’

‘his name,’ nipping at the exposed skin of your chest, his hand tugs at the starched fabric as he corrects you. ‘it was minho the maleficent.’

‘oh,’ you breathe, less in defeat but rather in sweet contentment. ‘and why is that?’

‘because, my sweet,’ he huffs into your chest, resting on the heels of his palms planted either side of your cushioned head. ‘he burned all of levanter to the ground when his queen died.’

‘yes, he did.’ changbin only strokes the skin of your cheek as you pout, his eyes rolling at your uncanny ability to bring everything back to his encroaching departure. ‘and my husband will not even skip one war for me.’

‘’one war’?’ he smirks, dropping his lips to your exposed breast, tongue sweeping over your teased nipples. ‘you speak as though war is like an evening in a tavern.’

‘both tend to end in regret,’ you jest, or attempt to. it is growing increasingly difficult to barter with him as he presses his lips to your stomach, his body lowering in kind with his touch. before he can disappear entirely from view, you rise. as he rises with you, you are stunned by his rosey cheeks, the flush journeying to his neck as you rest on your elbows. he sees your turmoil. your clear desire for him shadowed painfully by your love and fear. he drops a kiss to your hip, his knuckles dusting the veiled bead of your heat, eyes hard on you as you falter, head lolling to the side before you regain your strength. ‘bin?’

‘hm?’

‘stay.’ it’s faint. so faint he barely recognises it as a plea. he only sighs, his forehead pressed to your abdomen as he purges your wet eyes from his memory. ‘please say you will stay. i cannot bear the thought of a winter without you.’

‘my love,’ changbin speaks into your skin, lowly beseeching your understanding while praying for your peace. ‘a season might separate us,’ he hums, expertly parting your thighs as he offers a lone kiss to your mound. ‘but only a season could.’

“my lady?” jeongin’s voice is first to break you from your nostalgic nightmare. the second is the cries of injured men. “we have arrived.”

the edge of the wood is a wounded minefield. limbless soldiers, knights and footmen alike, are dotted around the dimly lit field. your eyes gloss over at the heaped bodies, and water at the stench. “how long have they been here?”

“just under a week,” jeongin recalls, holding his hand out to stop you as medics pass with a burnt body on a stretcher. “it is hard to believe this is the winning camp.”

“there are no winners in war, jeongin.” you whisper, watching a man close the eyes of his fallen comrade a pair approach to drop his body in a mass grave. a fight ensues. “only loss.”

“y/n?” you halt at the call, half sprinting at the sight of han jisung, wearing a smile warm enough to light the night. “i thought his highness was jesting when he said you’d be here.”

“han!” you cried, latching onto him with a grip that nearly winded him. “thank god, thank god.”

“more like thank changbin,” he wheezed, squeezing you back just as tight, lifting you a few feet off the ground. “had he not been here, i would have surely-”

“where is he?”

“-died.” he only grins as you stiffen, recognising his part in your terror a second too late. “oh! no! he isn’t dead! he is alive! very alive!” his eyes flicker to a scowling jeongin, gulping down an apology as he gestures to his left. “come.”

further from the wood and slowly decaying corpses are the tents. some somehow less grand than a teepee, some spacious enough for a few hours sleep. jisung guides you both up to the largest of the lot, where you find an ill tempered king hyunjin growing increasingly more so. “no, leave him be.”

“had we known you were coming your grace- we can have him moved immediately.”

“your king gave you an order, soldier.” jisung chimes in, tongue slotting into the swell of his cheek as he gestures to you over his shoulder. “now move out of the way or i’ll have you explain to lady seo why she can’t see her husband on account of your insubordinance.”

“yes, sir.”

hyunjin bristles at jisung’s ability to command his men with little effort before he softens at your restless gaze. “he’s been asking for you.”

the grandeur of the king’s tent suits changbin well, you think. a fire crackles at the furthest end, masked only by a large canopy where you know he rests. the four poster bed takes up most of the space, and around it lays tin bowls, rags, blankets and water. the room seems barely lived in bar the knight whose faint breaths float toward you through the warm air. you feel yourself stalling, too busy taking in the space to recognise your fear. what will you find when you pull the curtain away? what remains of your husband, your lover, your friend? will he still have the same warm eyes and full cheeks? will his hands still fit in yours? his feet still step in time with yours? will he look the same, sound the same even? you swallow down this fear, and instead bask in the joy that he’s alive. your husband is alive. and nothing separates you. not a season, nor a wood. not time or conflict. only your fears.

and then they don’t. when you pull back the veil, nothing separates you but air. a soft man made gust as you reveal the man you’d once called your friend, only to call your betrothed and then yours. the fire barely lights the room yet still he glows. he lies bare from the waist up, his abdomen bandaged in rolls of cotton, his chest exposed. you watch it, the slow rise and fall of the place you longed to rest your head, you dreamt of dreaming on. before you realise, you have lowered yourself beside him, careful not to disturb him, nor his wound. before you can call for him he smiles. even in his state of slumber, he leans into your touch. before you meet his eyes, you feel his on you.

“you came.” he whispers, a heavy breath of relief escaping him as your thumb dusts his cheek.

“of course,” you try, before taking your lip between your teeth, fearful your tears might dampen his skin. you kneel at his side, carefully ridding yourself of your outer garments, before returning your hand to his cheek. “how do you feel?”

“now?” he smirks, wincing as a laugh runs through him. “wonderful.”

“and before?”

“so, so.” he murmurs with a kiss to your palm. “a sword to the stomach will do that to you.”

“do i have han jisung to thank for that?”

“no,” he coughs, recalling his sacrifice. “only me.”

“well that’s good,” you hum, employing the upmost care when leaning over him. “because i would hate to think my knight was blindsided.”

“never,” his assurance fans your lips, as yours hover over his. “only by you.”

you almost forgot how it felt to kiss him. the feeling only coming in dreams. there was no memory strong enough to conjure the feeling of his lips pressed against yours. the slow melt of tender skin on skin, the warmth, his gentle caress. his kiss is slow, but even in his prime he took his time. his lips close around yours with such timing and precision, ushering a slow burn of desire from the heels of your feet all the way up to the crown of your head. he knew how to expunge pain and fear from you, to free you from your demons, to reinvigorate you. to love you.

he’s weak. in all the worst ways. his body, his will. he raises his hand to your neck, pulling you closer as he presses his tongue between your lips, connecting the muscles with little intent of parting. he swallows around you, drinking you in, keeping that same, slow and teasing pace. only to pull you closer.

“you need your rest,” you pant into his mouth, resting all your weight on your arms as he pulls you back down, pinning your forehead to his.

“no,” he refuses, sweeping his thumb along your jaw. “i need you.” his voice shakes then, unlike him. unlike the man you know. “only you.”

“is that why you called me here?” you tease, silently wiping his tears away, silently reading the fear in his eyes. he begs them away though warms at your easy dispelling. “to use me?”

“my love,” he laughs, ignoring the pain in favour of basking in your smile. “you know i did not call for you.” when you move to argue, he recalls, as if he were there, “‘would taking just a horse quicken my arrival?’”

“i might have been here sooner if-”

“this,” raising his other arm, he gathers your face in his palms, “is soon enough.”

safe.

“okay.” you agree, allowing him to tug you closer once more. you let him kiss you without restraint. you let him curl his fingers into your neck, ignoring his wincing and kiss him through it. you let his grunts mask his pain, his teeth rolling your lip between the rows, you let him share it. you let him have you, because despite the odds he stayed alive. he stayed alive for you. and that was enough. “i love you.”

he blinks up at your shining eyes, guiding your wet cheeks to his puckered lips. “i love you,” he whispers back against your lips, feeling himself heal at just the touch of your hand. “only you.”

because only a season separated you. but now, not even a season could.

[heckyeahponyscans]

Yeloli Watch Party!

Episode 4: Am I a Super Hero?

English translation

Previously, Mary lost her math notebook and her horrible teacher was about to shame her.  We pick up right where we left off, with Mary, tears welling, shuffling towards the front of the class.

Last week I noticed Mary had a jellybean in her backpack and didn’t think much of it other than “oh, nice background detail.” Little did I know that the jellybean . . . was a plot point!

The jellybean glows and . . . turns into Mary’s math notebook!  After a moment Shelly glances over and notices it.  “Isn’t this your notebook, Mary?”  

Mean Teacher says “Next time find it sooner” but accepts the notebook, and Mary returns to her seat, thrilled and relieved.

The next day the teacher hands back the corrected assignments. Only three students got perfect scores: Sean, Shelly, and . . . Mary!

Sidenote: Sean is wearing an electronic earpiece, maybe a hearing aid?

Okay, back to this earth-shattering surprise!  Mary is floored by her perfect score was unsure about several of the answers on this assignment and, as we’ve previously learned, is bad at academics in general.  She gets rare praise from Horrible Teacher Man, which buoys her mood even more.

But when she gets her notebook back, she’s surprised to find some of her answers have been CHANGED.  Who did it?  Is someone helping her?

She puzzles about it for a bit before putting her notebook in her bag--where, unbeknownst to her, it turns into a jellybean again!

After math class is P.E. (physical education), where the class has to run laps.

Mary and the kid behind her, who I feel bad about calling “the fat kid” but they haven’t said his name even once and I have to differentiate him from the other kids SOMEhow, agree to run together, because they’re both slow.  

Let’s call him Peter until we get an official name.

As I’ve mentioned before, the running looks funny / odd.

But anyway, Mary and Peter stumble along the course. After getting lapped by the fastest kid (Bandaid Boy), Peter decides he’s sick of running.  He’s going to hide behind a statue, wait until just before the end of class, and then complete the last lap. The teacher will never notice!

Now personally I think this is a brilliant plan, but Mary disagrees.  Her mother told her winning wasn’t the important thing, the important thing is to try your best.  So while Peter hides, Mary keeps running.

She gets lapped by the rest of the class, including Mean Girl, who of course takes the time to razz Mary. “Are you a turtle? Mary, you're not very pretty, you're not very smart, you're bad at sports, and your family is poor. If I were you, I would be ashamed to leave the house.”

WOW.  Even Gary Oak wasn’t quite this bad.

Mary stops in her tracks to glare after Mean Girl as she pulls ahead.

“Even though I'm not very smart, I always do my best! Sooner or later, I'll be good at something. I am sure!” she thinks.

And back in the classroom, the jellybean glows . . .

And Mary’s plain, worn white shoes turn into rad pink running shoes!

The shoes let her run ridiculously fast, and soon she has not only caught up with the rest of the class, but is neck-in-neck with Bandaid Boy, the athletic kid. Bandaid Boy summons one final effort and comes in first, barely.

Soon he and the rest of the class are congratulating Mary, except Mean Girl who asks if she’s been “taking” something, like she thinks there’s a middle school doping ring going on.  Mary is happy but confused and says she doesn’t know how she ran so fast.  When she looks down, she is wearing her old, scuffed white shoes again.

With the school day at an end, Mary sits down and reflects on the weird events of the day.  “It’s like someone was using magic to help me.”

Now here’s where the episode surprised me.  I thought the evil woman in black had been using magic to spy on Mary and grant her wishes so she could swoop in and tempt her again.  After all, these were wishes her magic gems could grant--making Mary smart and good at sports.

Instead the jellybean floats out of the bag and turns into Loli, who’s like, “It was MEEEE!”

Flashback to Mary saying Loli couldn’t go to school with her and Loli turning herself into a . . . gem? (okay, it wasn’t a jellybean, it was a gem) and sneaking into Mary’s backpack.  She made Mary’s math notebook appear and corrected the answers, then enchanted Mary’s sneakers to make her super fast.

Loli fails to notice Mary looking increasingly betrayed and upset as she says all this and is like “Yeah! I did a great job, right?”

Upset, Mary tells her never to do that again.  Loli is confused.  Didn’t it make Mary happy, getting her wishes granted?

Mary replies that she was happy . . . when she thought she was succeeding through her own efforts, not doll-generated superpowers.  (And if it seems kind of obvious that something was up, well, Mary is canonically kinda dense . . . Shelly was side-eyeing the hell out of the desk after the notebook magically appeared in a pile of papers Mary had already looked through ten times. And meanwhile Mary was just like “I guess I didn’t look hard enough :) :) :)”.)

Loli finally Gets It and agrees to respect Mary’s wishes.  She recounts how the doll shop is full of fairies-turned-lifeless-dolls who can only regain life if a child loves them--essentially hinting that she was trying to impress Mary.

She also reveals that she’d seen Mary before she came to the shop (through magic fairy powers, I guess) and been impressed by her kindness and gentleness.  Loli was the one who caused the magic petals to lead Mary to the doll shop.

With the two seeing eye to eye again, Mary says she wants to keep improving and someday be as good as Shelly.  Shelly is a top student and top athlete, and Mary greatly admires her.

“But for some reason,” Mary says, “she always seems very lonely.”

We cut to Shelly, who is making her way out of the school as all her schoolmates invite each other over to play and make plans.  She’s envious them; they have time to play and socialize, while her after-school routine involves more studying.

The driver is waiting outside, but as Mary walks towards it, Peter--who is hanging with Mean Girl and her lackey--calls out, inviting her to join them for ice cream.

I am FLOORED to learn that Mean Girl hangs out with Peter after school.  (My theory is she either solely torments Mary or else she just likes to have other people around to pick on.)

Shelly is instantly like “OMG, ice cream sounds so good!!”, but the driver is all, “Miss Shelly, don’t forget you have piano lessons, followed by five other extracurriculars”, and she reluctantly declines the invitation.

Mean Girl, being just The Worst, says, “She thinks that because she's pretty, she can look down on us.Am I right or am I right?” and her lackey agrees, noting, “she has her own driver, and is so privileged.  Meanwhile Peter is just like :( .  You’re a nice kid, Peter.

Meanwhile Mary is in the car, watching her happy classmates through the window and feeling depressed.  She asks the driver not to pick her up or bring her to school anymore.

But he’s like, “So you want your parents to FIRE me?”

No, Shelly says, she just wants to socialize with her peers after school.

The driver reminds her that she’s on “a very tight schedule” with her billion extracurriculars, because her parents are clearly That Kind, and says she would never get to them in time without being rushed to and fro in the car.

Shelly acquiesces, resigning herself to a lonely childhood, when suddenly . . . petals!  Petals in the car, despite the closed windows!

Shelly calls to the driver to stop the car and she jumps out.  She’s got to see where the petals are coming from!  And she heads down a familiar, narrow alley . . .  

[allisondraste]

Announcing: Ambivalence

It has been exactly one year to the day since I published the final chapter of my Nathaniel Howe/F!Cousland long-fic, Temperance, and I could not think of a better time to unveil it’s first sequel, which I have had on the back-burner while I took a much-needed hiatus from writing. 

This will be a far briefer story than it’s predecessor, but tells an important part of Nate and Liss’ story.  

I hope you all enjoy!

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe x Female Cousland 

Story Summary: It has been just over a year since Nathaniel Howe and Elissa Cousland were reunited, childhood friendship forged into a love that endured a decade apart.  However, every love is tested at some point. Presented with circumstances that could either make or break their relationship, Nate and Liss are no different.

[AO3 Link]

Chapter 1: Pity and Pride

Chapter Summary:  It is no secret that there is trouble in paradise, and Nathaniel is quickly becoming tired of his friends’ concern.

Vigil’s Keep, Solace 9:33 Dragon

Sunlight poured into the room, undeterred by curtains carelessly drawn open the night before, forming a halo around the woman who lay next to him with bare limbs draped comfortably across his body.  It was rare that he awoke before her, rarer still to catch a glimpse of her sleeping peacefully, features unmarred by the nightmares that so often plagued her rest.  It was difficult to fret over their privacy when the uncovered window painted such a beautiful portrait.  How many years had he longed  for moments such as this, fleeting and perfect, always just out of his reach?  

And now Liss was there, snoring softly and tangled in bedsheets.  Unable to quell the urge to touch her, to make sure she was real, he reached forward and brushed a lock of hair from her face before allowing his fingertips to settle on her cheek.  She stirred, thick brows pressing together as her eyes flickered open, rich, brown, and sparkling with a groggy smile.

“Good morning, Nate,” she said quietly, voice hoarse as she shifted beneath the sheets and brought her hand up to cover his, an intricate ring glittering on her finger.  

“My love,” he whispered, allowing his eyes to blink closed just briefly.

Then, he awoke.

Nathaniel sighed as his eyes opened, not to a lovely sun-soaked room in Antiva, but rather to his own tomb-like quarters in Vigil’s Keep, with nothing but low-burning sconces illuminating the depressing stone walls and floors.  It was too cold, and he rolled over to be closer to the warmth of his bed partner, stretching out an arm to drape across her.

However, his arm fell only against a mound of blankets, his dreams having played a cruel trick on him once again.  This was not the first time in recent days that he’d woken up to find his bed empty, the woman who had lain with him the night before gone without a trace other than the turned back sheets and coverlet on her side of the bed.  In fact, it seemed that he woke up alone more often than not.

“Liss,” he asked the empty room, as if it could summon her for him, as if he did not know she was already up and running about the Keep pretending that everything was fine.

When the room did not answer him, he sighed and sat up begrudgingly, shivering as the chilly air met his bare skin, and slid out of bed.  Without any windows, discerning the hour proved difficult, yet he figured it was past time that he got ready and behaved as an acting Warden-Constable anyway.  

In peace, vigilance , and all of that.

A rustling from his closet drew him from his thoughts and his head darted toward the direction of the noise out of instinct.  Cautiously, he made his way over to the door and placed an ear up against it, hoping to get a better idea of what lay inside.

Meow .

Nathaniel sighed and shook his head as he opened the door, glancing down to a pair of bright green eyes examining him.  Ser Pounce-A-Lot was a ridiculous name for a creature who only ever snuck about and examined the world with cold calculation, pouncing very little, if at all.

“This,” he grumbled, stepping out of the animal’s way, “Is how curiosity kills your kind . ”

The cat tilted his head in an almost unnatural way before mewing again and sauntering forward, snaking himself around Nathaniel’s leg and purring gratuitously for several long moments.

“You are keeping me from my duties, Your Lordship ,” Nathaniel said, glaring down at Ser Pounce, who appeared wholly undeterred, before stopping, blinking up at him, and then chomping down on the back of his heel.  He hissed in pain and pulled away reflexively.

Reaching down to give the cat a scratch behind the ears, Nathaniel said,“Perhaps you were meant to be a war beast after all.”

Ser Pounce nuzzled into his hand, gave a final meow, and pranced out of the room as if nothing had transpired. He wondered how he had ended up caring for the damnable creature in the first place.  Then again, it was not as if Anders had been in any sort of condition to care for a pet when he fled the Keep, nor was Nathaniel certain Justice would have allowed him to.  He shook his head free of the disappointing, bitter memories of his friends. He had more pressing matters to attend.

It took him little time to dress himself in his Warden attire. The days had been short and peaceful since The Mother and her spawn were destroyed, yet he preferred to dress the part of a Grey Warden, armed and prepared for an attack at any moment.  In the aftermath of Loghain’s slanderous campaign against them, and with the decision to allow Amaranthine to fall looming over their heads, the Wardens had ample other enemies now, enemies that the Darkspawn threat had once held at bay.  Anything could happen.

Appropriately equipped, Nathaniel straightened his posture and stepped out into the hallway.

It was an odd experience to reside in his childhood home, yet on an entirely different floor and wing. When Delilah assumed control of the arling, she had kindly offered that he keep his old room, as part of the Howe family.  He promptly declined, having no fond feelings for the room to which he’d been unfairly banished more times than he could count.  Besides, he preferred to stay with the other Wardens, his new family.

Nathaniel made his way through several dark corridors and down multiple flights of stairs, feet guided more by muscle memory than sight, until he’d reached the ground floor.  He couldn’t say for certain he would find Liss in the great hall, but it was as good of a place as any to start.

The largest room in Vigil’s Keep, was the only room with any semblance of warmth.  One of the longest-standing, impregnable fortresses in Ferelden had no use for stained glass windows, open courtyards, or natural lighting of any kind.  His father had always declared that it was called a keep and not a castle for a reason, an underhanded criticism of the things Nathaniel pretended not to love about Castle Cousland when he was a child.

He scanned the space before him, nearly vacant with the exception of pages and scouts milling about waiting to be assigned tasks.  He thought to approach one of them to ask if they’d seen Liss, but thought better of it.  They likely had no idea who she was or what she looked like, and they no doubt had better things to do than participate in this unnecessary game of hide-and-seek.

“Morning, Nathaniel,” called a voice off to his side, a voice he did not particularly wish to hear at present.  He turned to see Alistair standing several feet away, wearing that lopsided, cheerful grin that usually occupied his face.  The younger man had thickened up slightly since they’d first met over a year prior, an effect of safety, security, and not carrying the weight of a Blight on his back.  He looked healthy and happy, and Nathaniel envied his ability to bounce back.

“Morning, Alistair” Nathaniel replied dryly.  He paused, eyes darting around the room in another cursory sweep before returning to the other man. “Have you seen Liss, by any chance?”

Alistair flinched at the question. “You mean, you  haven’t seen her this morning?”

“No.”

“Damn...” he shifted his weight, laughing nervously and bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his head, “I, um.. I haven’t seen her either.”

“Wonderful,” Nathaniel muttered, shaking his head.

“Listen, you know how she is,” Alistair said, placing a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder in what was undoubtedly an attempt at reassurance, a gesture of pity. “She probably just got one of those wild hairs of hers, ran off to the library in the middle of the night, and is now passed out under a pile of books.  I’m sure everything’s fine.”

Nathaniel blinked at him several times, then looked down to glare at the hand that was resting on his shoulder. “Uh…huh.”

The other man withdrew his hand awkwardly, frowning. “Sorry,” he remarked pointedly, holding his hands up in defeat, “Remind me to wait until you’ve woken up properly next time I decide to show you basic human decency.”

Nathaniel deflated at Alistair’s words. “No, I apologize.  I am just a bit tense as of late.”

“Yeah.” Alistair looked down at the floor and kicked at the stone with the toe of his boot before looking back up. “I know.  For what it’s worth, if I was in your shoes I’d… I don’t know what I’d do.  Probably fling myself into the nearest body of water.”

Nathaniel snorted derisively. “Thanks.”

“That sounded bad didn’t it? What I meant is--”

“I know what you meant.”

“Right.” Alistair let out a nervous laugh and shook his head. “I’m going to stop talking now, before I put my other foot in my mouth.”

Nathaniel offered him a hint of a smirk to indicate that there had been no real harm done, then teased, “I believe that is a wise decision.”

Alistair smiled in return and nodded. “Anyway, I was actually meant to inform you that the commander would like to speak with you. She’s in her study right now.”  

“I shall see her at once.”

“And if I run into our Dear Lady Cousland, I will tell her you were looking for her.”

“Please, do.”

Concluding his conversation with Alistair, Nathaniel headed immediately toward the corridor that led back to the commander’s study, the room that had previously belonged to his father’s portraits and trophies.  As a child, he’d spent many hours hiding away in that damned room, dreaming himself up a better father than Rendon would ever be.  He was grateful Lucia now occupied the space, her solemn kindness and humility painting over the history that had once lived there, and he hoped that with time, she would eliminate his father’s stain completely.

The large wooden door  was left slightly ajar, a small band of lamplight leaking out into the hallway.  He still stopped and decided to knock, rather than just entering as others would have.  Despite her open-door policy, he refused to startle her without need. Three quick raps, and he waited for her response.

“You can come in, Nathaniel,” she called just loud enough for him to hear her.

He pushed the door open and entered, laughing. “How did you know it was me?”

Lucia looked up at him with a hint of a smile. “You’re the only person I know who knocks when the door is open.”

“Right,” he replied, pressing the door closed behind him.

The young woman he called his friend and commanding officer stood bent over her desk, despite a perfectly adequate chair sitting just behind her.  She propped herself up with one hand flat on the surface of the desk, as she thumbed through pages of some antiquated tome with the other.  Though her long, dark hair was styled in a low ponytail, it still fell down and cast a shadow over her face.  Surrounding her were stacks of other old texts and scrolls.

Lucia had been rather consumed by research as of late. An unassuming journal had found its way into her hands, one with writings that had been identified as Warden-Commander Duncan’s.  In it, he had documented an encounter with their very own Architect.  She hoped the record would provide them with some valuable information about the unsettling creature, and it had.  But it had also made mentions of an unnamed Grey Warden, a mage, who was freed from her calling, tainted blood healed and unable to be re-joined.

Ever since, Lucia had been pouring over Grey Warden lore and history and manuscripts about obscure magics, no doubt searching for something they all wanted deep down: A cure.  As honorable as membership in the order sounded, the same power that granted them their Blight-stopping capabilities became an unbearable curse in peaceful times, each moment that passed one breath closer to The Calling.  The commander was so young, and he understood her newfound compulsion to find a solution.  She was not the only one struggling to cope with the reality of a Grey Warden’s fate.

“You asked to speak to me,” he stated tentatively, almost as a question.

Lucia’s gaze darted up to him, and she straightened her posture. “Yes, I did.”

“And?”

She walked around her desk to stand in front of him, piercing eyes searching his face for an answer to a question she had yet to ask.  “How are you holding up?”

A twinge of irritation sparked through him. “Holding up?”

“Perhaps it is presumptuous of me to say as your commanding officer, but we are also friends, and as your friend I feel obligated to point out that things with Elissa have been a bit… tense since you two returned from Highever.”

“That is presumptuous,” Nathaniel replied through his teeth, “Even as my friend.”

Lucia stood, unfazed and blinking. “You can be annoyed with my concern if you wish, but that won’t make it go away.”

“Your concern is wasted.”  His words were clipped, and he crossed his arms.  “I am fine.”

“Nate,” she urged him, dropping her typical formality and reaching forward to place a hand on his arm, a gesture of which he was quickly tiring.  Still, they were friends, and he wondered if it might give him some clarity to discuss the matter with the woman.

He opened his mouth, prepared to provide a more honest answer, but clamped it shut as a knock rang out on the door behind him.  He released the breath he’d been holding, never more grateful for an interruption.  

“Who’s there,” Lucia asked.

“It’s Liss.  I just spoke with Alistair, and he said you wanted to see me.”

Nathaniel glared at Lucia waiting for an explanation that she did not provide.  Instead, she released his arm and moved to sit down in the chair at her desk. “You can come in.”

The door creaked open slowly, and Nathaniel turned to see Liss.  She froze in the doorway when their eyes met, wincing as if his presence had inflicted physical pain. Then she blinked suspiciously between him and the commander before flashing a smile and bouncing into the room. ”

“Good morning, Lucia,” she announced cheerfully, as she moved to stand beside Nathaniel, giving him a confusing, playful nudge with her elbow. ”Hey Nate.”

“Now that you’re both here,” Lucia began formally, “I have an assignment for you two.”

“Oh?”  Liss perked up, and fidgeted excitedly.

“Some sort of Warden business, I presume,” Nathaniel asked, making every effort to hide both his discomfort and his relief.

“Yes. ” Lucia nodded.  “As you know, a new Junior Warden was transferred to us from the Warden Fortress at Montsimmard last week.”

“The woman from Kirkwall?”

“Her name’s Bethany,” Liss corrected with a quick laugh, “I met her in passing near the baths.  She didn’t seem too keen on having a conversation with me at the time.”

“Warden Bethany has been through quite an ordeal in the past six months,” Lucia explained, “She is an apostate who was living as a refugee in Kirkwall with her family after they fled Lothering during the Blight.  She was Joined by a contingent of Orlesian Wardens after an encounter with darkspawn in the Deep Roads.”

Nathaniel frowned and brought his hand to his chin. “The Deep Roads? What was she doing in the Deep Roads?”

“It seems pretty fortunate that she would have stumbled into a group of Grey Wardens, too,” Liss chimed in.

“It had nothing to do with fortune,” Lucia continued, words stern and direct.  She stood up, clenching her fists at her sides. “Bethany and her older sister were part of an expedition into the Deep Roads to search for artifacts and treasure, accompanied by one of our own, who provided them with confidential Warden maps to help them navigate.”

The palpable vitriol from Lucia meant one thing, and one thing only.

“Anders,” Nathaniel asked.

“Yes,” she responded defeatedly, “According to Bethany he’s been living in Kirkwall ever since he deserted, running some sort of healing clinic.  He is the reason they were able to find the other Wardens.”

“Wow,” Liss remarked, “That all seems uncharacteristically noble of him.”

“Uncharacteristic of Anders, perhaps,” Nathaniel stated, “But not of Justice.”

“Right.”  Lucia’s gaze was fixed on the ground, deep in thought.   She looked up at them before sighing and speaking again, “As unorthodox as it may seem to assign a mission based upon personal feelings, I believe my reasoning is sound.  Anders is still a Grey Warden, one who I conscripted, which makes him my responsibility. I would like for you two, along with Bethany, to travel to Kirkwall and pay him a visit. ”

“And do what exactly,” he asked, annoyed by what felt like a waste of time, “Drag him back to the Keep by his collar?”

“That would be a sight.” Liss chuckled at his side and he rolled his eyes. “Ten silvers he sets your little chin hairs on fire.”

“He would have to catch me first. Twelve silvers.”

She smiled and winked at him. “It’s a bet.”

“If I am being completely honest about my intentions, I just want you to check in on him, “Lucia continued more softly, paying no heed to their irreverence to the task, “Make sure that he is safe and warn him against sharing too many delicate Warden secrets.”

“So this is not “official” Warden business then,” Nathaniel asked.

“I’m not sure the Wardens ever do anything ‘officially,’” Liss stated flatly.

“This is just for my peace of mind,” Lucia answered with a sad smile, “Besides, I thought you two might enjoy some time away together.”

Her investment in their relationship shamed him, causing his face to flush.  Lucia had so many other things that she could and should have been fretting over instead.   He flicked his eyes over to Liss, wondering if she felt as he did.

She only frowned and shrugged out a reply.   “I could use a vacation.”

“Kirkwall is a shithole,” Nathaniel told her frankly, words more pointed than he’d intended,”It won’t exactly be a vacation.”

“Not with that attitude, it won’t be,” she chirped, not missing a beat.

“Will you go,” Lucia asked.

“Of course,” he replied, with a reassuring smile.  Liss nodded along with him.

“Thank you both.”  Lucia seemed to relax, and sat back slowly into her chair. “You all should prepare to head out to Amaranthine first thing in the morning.  I’ve arranged passage for you there.”

Nathaniel nodded in acknowledgement, noticing Liss do the same as she spoke, “Is there anything else you needed, Commander?”

“No,” she shook her head, “You are free to go.  Safe travels.”

When he turned to face Liss , she was biting her lip and appeared to be lost in thought, a small wrinkle between her brows.  It was ridiculous to ache for someone who slept beside him each night, to miss her.  And yet he did.  Maker did he miss her.  That their companions sensed some sort of tension between them was not inaccurate, and had he been honest with Alistair and Lucia, he would have admitted that things were not “fine.”  He just was not ready to broach the topic of what happened in Highever with anyone other than Liss, and she had been all but avoiding any opportunity they had to discuss it for the better part of two weeks.  

Shaking himself free of his own thoughts, he nudged Liss with his elbow and held his arm out to her.  There was no guarantee that she would accept it, but he would be damned if he did not offer it to her.  When she glanced over to him, then down at his arm, and back up to meet his gaze,  her face lit up, bright and warm, and relief washed over him.  Thank The Maker he could still make her smile.

Without hesitation, she looped her arm through his and blinked up at him expectantly. “Shall we?”

A quiet chuckle escaped him.  “Of course, my lady.”

Liss had always been adept at filling silences, or at the very least making them comfortable; however, as they left Lucia’s study together, arm-in-arm, an oppressive and awkward quiet fell over them.  Nathaniel was no stranger to uncomfortable silences, but to share one with Liss was an entirely new experience.  He racked his mind for anything to talk about that would not cause her to withdraw from him, but came up short.  Hopefully he would be able to suffer his own discomfort until they made it back to their shared quarters.

“So,” she spoke up suddenly, much to Nathaniel’s relief, “Kirkwall. Just the two of us… and that Bethany person, of course.  This’ll be fun.”  She held his arm more tightly and let her head fall to rest against his shoulder.

“You really think so,” he asked, amused at her optimism.

She pulled away suddenly to look up at him, a pain he did not intend to inflict buried in her expression. “You don’t?”

“That’s not what I—” he paused, immediately frustrated and attempting to keep his composure— “It wasn’t meant to be serious.”

Liss continued to glare up at him, tears welling in her eyes, and he did not have a shred of an idea how to respond.  She had never been a rational person, but this was a bit extreme.  He squeezed and released his hands at his side as he fought the urge to reach out to her.  

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she muttered, looking down at the ground, “You’ve done nothing wrong.  I’m just—”

“Liss,” he urged, hoping that she would finally open up to him, give him some clue as to why she kept pushing him away and erecting walls between them that had never been there before.

“Nate,” she whispered, a single tear falling from her lashes and rolling down her cheek.

Without thinking he reached forward to wipe it away with his thumb, allowing his hand to linger on her cheek.  Her gaze softened at the touch, and for a moment he thought her defenses might falter, that she might let him in.  She brought her hand up to cover his, briefly allowing her eyes to flutter closed.  When she opened them again, there was steel in her expression and she grabbed his hand, gently pulling it away from her face.  With that, he withdrew his hand completely and stared back at her in disbelief, jaw clenched.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded, voice hushed, “Please.”

“I can’t… do this right now.” She shook her head frantically, emotions barely held beneath the surface. “I’m sorry.”

“This is not something you can run from and hope it disappears, Liss,” he replied tersely, his frustration getting the better of him, “You can’t keep avoiding me.”

“I’m going to get some air,” she snapped, indignant and completely ignoring his remarks, “We can prepare for our journey after I come back.

“Liss, wait—”

“I’ll talk to you later, Nate,” she interrupted as she turned to walk away toward the front door.

They had done this dance too many times for him to be taken aback or even confused.  No, the only thing he felt at the moment was exhausted.  Countless times since they’d returned, he’d tried to get her to discuss how she was feeling, or to at least listen to how he felt, but she’d consistently found excuses or other ways to escape an actual conversation.  It was ridiculous and immature, and he was at a complete and utter loss.  

Ego bruised and chest aching, he made his way over to the bench along a nearby wall and sank down, resting his elbows on his knees as his face dropped into the palms of his hands.   What was he to do next except give her space and hope that things would be sorted out with time?

His ruminations were cut short as his ears caught the distinct shuffle of footsteps that slowed to a stop as they neared him and a hushed murmur of women’s voices.  He could not make out what they were saying, but the voices were familiar, and it was obvious they were attempting discretion and failing miserably.

“You two are not subtle,” he said with a sigh as he looked up to see the elf and dwarf blinking at him sympathetically, a look that had become all too common since he’d returned from Highever.  Did people sincerely believe him to be so pitiable?  His friends, especially, should have known better.

Velanna glanced between Nathaniel and the empty space beside him on the bench, brow furrowing slightly as she asked, “May I?”

“Be my guest,” he replied motioning to the seat, then letting his head fall to his hands again briefly before sitting up straight and watching as she sat down beside him.  Sigrun remained standing, but moved to lean against the wall.

Nathaniel glanced from one to the other several times, noting their heavy silence and persevering looks of pity.  He settled on Velanna, whose pinched expression he presently found the most irritating and asked, “Is there something you wished of me? Or do you intend to continue staring at me as if I were a lost puppy?”

“We are not—” Velanna began to retort, words echoing off the walls.  She sighed and continued more quietly, “We are simply concerned for you.”

“There is no reason to be concerned for me,” Nathaniel protested, “I am fine.”

“Hah,” Sigrun interjected, laughing, “You don’t think we’re going to buy that, do you?”

“You don’t have to,” he retorted sarcastically, turning to face his other friend, “I am offering it to you for free.”

“Come on, Nate.  We’re your friends, and we know better,” she pressed, “Besides, with the way you’ve been moping about the Keep these past two weeks, there are lost puppies I feel less sorry for.”

He bristled at her words, muscles tensing as he clenched his fists.  Just as he was about to snap, Velanna’s hand fell on his shoulder and his gaze darted back to her instead.  

“ Lethallin ,” she said firmly, a word from her own language.  She’d once told him it was a term of endearment for her People, one used to signify the closeness between friends.  He relaxed slightly, and she withdrew her hand to rest on her lap. “Was it not you who once told me I needed to stop viewing every expression of sympathy as a personal attack.?”

“That does sound like something I would say.” Nathaniel shook his head, snorted out a laugh, and slouched forward.  “I can’t say I expected that to come back and bite me in the arse.”  

It was silent for several beats, then he continued, apologizing for what seemed like the thousandth time in just an hour or so.  “I am sorry, truly. Everyone is so concerned about me, and I know that I should be appreciative, but... if I am being completely honest, it’s humiliating.”

“That is…” Velanna said, “Understandable.”

Sigrun nodded her agreement. “Definitely.”

“I—” he began to speak again, but was interrupted by the loud bang of a door slamming back against the wall.  Several scouts and pages gasped in surprise at the form that entered the hall, battle axe slung effortlessly over his shoulder.  “Nevermind,” Nathaniel muttered quickly.

“Never fear, Ol’ Oghren’s back and better than ever,” Oghren shouted at the far end of the hall as the door slammed closed behind him.  He appeared to scan the room, perking up when his gaze met Nathaniel’s, and immediately sauntering over to the bench.

Velanna sighed and rolled her eyes as Sigrun straightened up to wave and greet him.“Hey Oghren!  How’s the family?”

The dwarf had been away for just over a month visiting with Felsi, and their brood.  Ever since the turmoil in Amaranthine had ended, and most of the resulting mess cleared up, he’d been taking intermittent leave to be a more present husband and father.  He was certainly rough around every edge, but he was trying to be better, and that was admirable.

“Oh you know, same ol’, same ol’,” he answered jovially, stopping as he stood just a few feet away from the rest of them.  He brought one hand up and stroked his elaborately-plaited auburn beard proudly. “Felsi’s expectin’ again.”

“Maker’s Blood, man! Are you intending to father a legion?” Nathaniel exclaimed with a laugh that was cut short by a sudden realization.  He squinted at Oghren and continued, “Wait. Congratulations and all, but... how is that even possible?”

Oghren shrugged. “Beats the shit out of me. The Commander told me Grey Wardens weren’t s’posed to be able to… y’know...”

His words trailed off into a low chuckle and he waggled his eyebrows, eliciting a groan of disgust from Velanna.  At the same time, a mischievous smirk crossed Sigrun’s face and she tilted her head, crossed her arms and said with faux innocence, “No, Oghren, I actually don’t think we know.”

“Do not encourage him, lethallan ,” Velanna scolded, standing up as if preparing to escape.

To Nathaniel’s surprise, Oghren ignored the opportunity to pop off with an inappropriate joke, and instead looked at him, a hint of a genuine smile sparkling in his eyes, but hidden beneath his beard. “So, Howe, I figure congratulations are in order for you too, eh?”

Nathaniel stiffened, heart sinking like lead into his abdomen.  He shook his head and let out a laugh that was more bitter than he had hoped.  “No.  No that won’t be necessary.”

“Wait… what?” Oghren scowled and examined Nathaniel for a moment before protesting. “Don’t tell me you changed your mind?  Didn’t take you to be a chickenshit.”

“I didn’t.” Nathaniel stood up abruptly at the words, startling the others. “And I’m not.”

“Shit, I—”

“I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Nate,” Sigrun said gently, grabbing his arm.

He shrugged her off and stepped away. “I should go prepare for my trip to Kirkwall.”

“Nathaniel,” Velanna urged him, “Wait.”

“Thank you for talking with me,” he said flatly, glancing between Velanna and Sigrun, then over to Oghren, “It is good to have you back, my friend.”

“Yeah… sure.”

With that, Nathaniel gave his friends a nod, and turned to make his way to the nearest stairwell, heart racing as he struggled to remain calm.  

“What crawled up his breeches,” he heard Oghren ask behind him.

Nathaniel did not linger to hear Velanna and Sigrun brief Oghren on the events that had transpired while he was away.  He did not need to be reminded.

[icedcappujaeno]

kingdom come | prologue

Jaehyun remembers you, and he hopes that you remember him as well.

genre: mafia!au | fluff | angst | smut

pair: Jaehyun & reader

warnings: language, sexual content, drugs, blood and violence, guns

↤ previous | series masterlist | next ↦

( a/n: voila. let me know your thoughts. feedback would be greatly appreciated. cross posted on ao3. will update there regularly, updates here will be feedback based. c: )

Jaehyun remembers the day when you first met.

“I think the children like you,” you said, a delightful grin gracing her painted lips. “I’ve never seen them this enthusiastic.”

He could only smile in return, allowing the deep indents of his cheeks to appear. He feels his ears warming, painting it a pinkish hue as he continued to unbox the goods they brought in for the orphanage. “Thank you.”

“I’m guessing you’re a man of few words.”

Your giggles were soft; soothing - like how the bell chimes every time he steps in the doorstep of his home in Busan. How he wishes to come back, yet hearing the soft chortles of yours already brings him back.

The smile on his lips stretched wider, crescent eyes falling upon yours and flawless cheeks turning a pinkish shade as his ears. Jaehyun remembers the same feeling as he was in sixth grade, it has been a while since he looks at another person with such admiration. His heart beating faster than normal, hands sweaty in every contact with yours. 

Crush. The tiniest form of a one-sided intimacy. Jaehyun was pretty sure it was all a short time feeling - he’ll probably only meet you this once and never again.

━ ┉ ━

“Thank you for the donations again. The children learned to bake and they’re  pretty much  invested, thanks to you.”

Jaehyun finds himself back in the orphanage, a box full of goods on his arms as you lead the way to the storage. Since that day he always finds his thoughts back to you - your smile, your laughs, even your embarrassing facade. His co-workers would tease him during work as he keeps spacing out, of course, his replies would be mutters of denial. 

Johnny sees it though, that’s why they are back at the very orphanage the company helped months ago.

“Thanks to the  company ,” he corrected, placing the box over the table. He could feel your excitement and he chuckles, stepping a little aside with a nod towards the box. “I think I’ll let you do the honors of opening this.”

“You’re part of them, so,” you trail off, failing to hide your excitement and stepping your way to where Jaehyun stood. You peel off the tape from the box and open to see more baking supplies inside. 

You can’t contain the happiness and it was evident in your facade.

Jaehyun thinks it was more than a crush.

“I think you’re more excited than the kids,” he chuckles.

“Am I?” You returned the gesture back. “I just thought that with these, I could spend more time with the children.”

“You love them so much, huh?” Jaehyun babbles, but you take no offense from the statement. 

“I just love children,” you reply, the childish grin still on your lips as you took almost everything out of the box. “A mixer?!”

Jaehyun nonchalantly shrugs but overwhelmed with pride as the mixer was from his own pocket, not from the company. He would not admit it though. Though he would admit one thing.

“I love children as well.”

He blurts the second time, and like how you reacted earlier, grin still on your lips, you reply. 

“Great!”

A pause and Jaehyun’s eyes fixate on your warming face. He figures the statement was incomplete, so he waits for another.

“We’re compatible, then.”

You hope it was soft enough for him to not hear, but as he was focused on you, he never missed it. His lips turned into a wide grin. Jaehyun leans his bottom on the tabletop, trying to sound composed and poised as he asks:

“Really? Then, let’s test it out on a date.”

━ ┉ ━

Jaehyun remembers the time you said you didn’t want a ring when someone asks for your hand in marriage.

You were lying with him on your couch, watching some boring documentary when you suddenly babbled. The statement was confusing, so he asks you why while he plays with your hand.

“I don’t think it’s really necessary. You know, all those extravagant preparations, dragging your friends—I don’t know. I just think it’s all for show.”

You cuddle to him closer, the slow beating of his heart lulling you to sleep as you sleep on top of his clothed chest.

Jaehyun takes note of it mentally and places a chaste kiss on your forehead.

━ ┉ ━

Jaehyun remembers how he almost thought he’d lose you.

“You’re going to be assigned to Los Angeles with Johnny and Haechan. Apparently, our  client  ran away from  home , I need you guys to fetch him in case he gets lost,” Taeyong says. He slides a blue folder on the tabletop while Jaehyun stands there, clearly baffled with the designation of his next assignment.

“Excuse me?”

Taeyong looks visibly surprised. Jaehyun was never one to have orders repeated as he gets them clearly in one saying. With a lone brow raised and his hands curled together as his chin rested on it, he repeats. 

“You’re going to be assigned to LA with Johnny and Haechan.”

“L-A.”

“Yes.”

“Los Angeles, California.”

“That’s what LA stands for. Jaehyun -”

“In America.”

Unbelievable. Taeyong isn’t comprehending that Jaehyun’s actually answering him this way. It wasn’t in his character - and as amusing as it sounds, Taeyong isn’t having any of it today.

“Sorry, Taeyong. I have to decline -”

“Jaehyun.”

“I really can’t. I have some important matters to attend to -”

“If it’s about your girlfriend, you should drop it off,” Taeyong finally snaps. He stands from his seat with his eyes full of frustration - one of his top agents declining one of the biggest missions they had in years. “You know the field of your work. Do you really expect to live a life of happy endings -”

“Fine!”

Jaehyun snaps back, heart heavy at the guilt Taeyong imposes. There was no lie in it though. His job endangers not only his life but the people around him as well, that’s why from the start they were asked to forbid emotions to bloom, but alas, love just strikes hard.

“When do we leave?” 

“Well, since Haechan is still training and we’re still gathering enough data...you’ll leave in three weeks.”

Begrudgingly, Jaehyun grabs the folder on Taeyong’s table and leaves his office in angry strides.

━ ┉ ━

“It’s okay. It’s for work I understand.”

You say to him as he curls up within your spoon. His hair feels smooth against your fingers. He acts like a child when he feels like it, especially when there is a favor to ask, but this time, his permission felt a little different than the others.

But who are you to dictate him to stop?

He looks up to you, your chin earning soft pecks from his dry lips.

“You aren’t…”

You wait for him to finish, but he just curls up more to your smaller frame. You adjust to make him comfortable, enveloping his head to your arms and burying it to your chest.

“I’m not mad. It’s not like you won’t come back.”

But Jaehyun is.

What if something went wrong? What if there was a miscalculation? What if he comes back home inside a wooden box?

“You’re thinking too loudly, baby,” you shush, continuing to thread your fingers through his thick tresses. “I’m sure you’ll come back to me.”

Jaehyun hopes as well.

━ ┉ ━

He feels the sting, but he’s not even backing up a step.

He feels the blood drip down his nose, but he keeps his stance.

A left jab from his opponent, but he dodged, moving downward to avoid his fist. He countered with an uppercut and seeing his opponent stunned from the attack, Jaehyun took the opportunity to grab the knife strapped on his thigh. With quick movements, he slid down and stabbed the guy with more force than intended.

When he doesn’t feel like he’s moving anymore, Jaehyun grabs his knife back, standing up to return the blade back to its previous pocket, but a sudden bang from behind jolts him forward.

A bullet on his rib.

Blood was continuing to flow.

And it was from him.

“Jaehyun!”

He hears Johnny scream, but he’s already tumbling forward, vision darkening to a pitch black.

━ ┉ ━

It is painful when he wakes up.

The ceiling is white, and when he looks down, the same hue paints the walls, his bed, his clothes. The only vibrant color on his vision is blue, the color that paints the curtains of the windows on one side.

“Hey,” he hears Johnny say, but he doesn’t respond. “I know you’re awake. Your fingers twitched. Haechan is already calling the nurse.”

“Are we still in LA?”

“Yep,” Johnny replies with an emphasis on the ‘p’.

“How long have I’ve been here?” 

“A week.”

No.

Jaehyun tries to stand, but Johnny stops him from doing so. With his state, he knows it’s useless to fight against the gentle giant, but he has you waiting for him back home.

“We already contacted her,” Johnny says, but he still feels restless. 

The door opens and Haechan, along with his attending physician and a nurse greets him. They were smiling, an act of reassurance, but Jaehyun isn’t having any. He stares at them, void of any emotion.

Johnny takes this as a cue and leaves, dragging Haechan along.

He undergoes examination as facilitated by the doctor. It was a while until he was cleared. When the tests are done, the nurse summons Johnny and Haechan back to the room.

“He’s good to go,” the doctor says, filling up the clearance form. He passes it to the nurse who hurriedly steps outside to work on his clearance and dues.

Before leaving, the doctor prescribed him mefenamic pills to ease any pain. Johnny and Haechan bid them thank you and goodbye as the physician closes the door.

“What’s the earliest flight we could book back to Seoul?” Jaehyun asks in a hurry.

“We already have tickets for tomorrow morning. Taeyong booked it—“

“What time is it anyway?”

Haechan looks at his watch. “It’s one in the afternoon, LA time, hyung.”

Jaehyun pulls the IV out of his dorsal,  almost , as Johnny’s reflexes work better that it halts the action. “Whoa, easy there, tiger. Let the nurses do their job.”

“Can we go to a jewelry shop after this?”

━ ┉ ━

“You know,” you quip as you sit beside him while scooping a spoonful of yogurt from the cup. Jaehyun hums, but there is confusion on his face while he waits for your reply. 

“You’ve been acting weird since you came back from LA.”

“Am I?” He asks without even tearing away his glued vision on the television screen. He is watching a documentary, and you’re sure that it isn’t as interesting as the usual dramas that he watches. You know he’s not interested in your question, but you pursue anyway.

“Yeah,” you say, trying to take interest in whatever he’s watching. You take a spoonful of the frozen yogurt and wince from the cold as it stays in your mouth. 

“You’re an idiot,” to which Jaehyun finally looks at your direction, but of course, with a flick on your forehead. 

“Look who’s talking,” you murmur, sliding down the couch to get more comfortable. He snatches the second spoon you’ve already scooped and he, too, winced from the sudden coldness. “See?”

When he gulps down, he looks at you intently, and you notice how his eyes glistened and softened as it looks at yours. His lips pressed in a thin line, making the indents of his cheeks appear, a trait you always loved of many. 

“What?”

“How many people have you already listed on our wedding guest list?”

“Huh?”

You bit your lip. You’re pretty sure that you’re the only one who knows about how you list your future plans: wedding included. It’s stored in your laptop, folders after folders, and you’re wondering how Jaehyun knew of such self hidden secret.

To which he seems to catch upon. A toothy grin stretches on his lips. “Gotcha.”

“How did you know?”

“Baby, you can’t answer a question with another.”

The show long has forgotten, you quizzically look at his smug demeanor before placing your near-empty cup of yogurt on the nightstand beside the couch. Lying is useless as you were already caught, and since you had been dreaming that Jaehyun would be the one to fill out the blank on the column GROOM , you figure that it’s better to say the truth. Nothing wrong with it anyway.

It’s just a guest list.

“I’m not sure. It’s on my laptop if you want actual numbers.”

He presses closer, nose almost touching yours. “Who is invited?”

“Well,” you quip, trying to focus on remembering your list rather than the feel of his hot breath against yours. “My family, of course. And my close friends. Around twenty...I’m not really sure.”

Jaehyun hums. You don’t exactly know where this conversation is going, so you pull your head slightly away from his. “What is this, Jeong Jaehyun? What are you plotting?”

His toothy grin breaks into an ever wide smile that shows the crescents of his eyes, the whiskers that form on his nose, and the deep dimples that you always find adoring. He lets you go, bouncing as he rests his arm over the edge and lets his head rests on his palms. “Go get your laptop baby.”

“Jeong Jaehyun.”

“Just get it.”

Although you want to resist, your feet already turn to the direction of your bedroom, all the while, Jaehyun fishes a tiny, red velvet box from the pockets of his sweater. He peeks, making sure that the jewelry is there. Suddenly, the room feels hot with him.

You come back with the laptop in hand. Jaehyun tells you to open the guest list file you’ve been long hiding and you do so. You slump down beside him, the file big on your laptop screen. 

“Add Johnny and the rest to the list.”

You look at him incredulously. You hear him say it, but you’re not sure - did he really told you to add his friends on the list? Why?

“What is this, Jeong Jaehyu-”

“Then maybe you can add my grandparents. I’m sure they’ll come.”

“Jaehyun.”

“Have you thought of the theme? The color scheme?”

“Jeong Jaehyun.”

“What?”

You want to cry. You really want to. The tears are already forming on the corners of your eyes. 

“Oh, shit, baby, why are you crying?” He panics. You had your fair share of arguments in the past and he’s yet seen you cry because of him. The plan was naturally smooth in his mind. Go home as if nothing happened. Casually bring up the guest list he saw you making a few days before he left. Propose to you in a very casual way - crying was not in the schedule.

“You’re an idiot,” you say between hiccups. The tears fall from your eyes like there’s no tomorrow, and your nose is getting stuffed with snot as you try to stop crying.

“Don’t say something that will make me hope,” you say.

Jaehyun’s eyes visibly widen. He never thought that you’d think he’s only fooling. Suddenly, his arms stretch out to yours, inviting you over for an embrace, but since you decline, he pulls you towards him - laying your head on his clothed chest. He smells like his favorite perfume, a scent you already resembled home. You feel his chest vibrate as he let out a low chuckle.

“I’m serious,” he coos, threading your hair through his long, ragged fingers. You did not reply, rather shift comfortably in his embrace. There was no exact reason why you said those words, but Jaehyun’s tone as he says he’s serious comforts you.

"I thought you said you don't want a grand, exaggerated proposal, so I..."

You see his other hand opens a red velvet box.

A diamond ring nestled within the comforts of the foam inside the box.

“Marry me.”

He commands, and for the second time tonight, your wails echoed through your apartment in joy.

━ ┉ ━

“You’re getting married?”

Taeyong sounds excruciating. Jaehyun sees the seriousness in his facade and tone. He has his hands overlap one another in front, casually feeling the metal ring against his ring finger. 

“I am.”

“Then what?”

Jaehyun raises a single brow. “Then what?”

“Endanger your fiancee’s life?” Taeyong asks. The older leans on the rest of his swivel chair but the ferocious look on his eyes never left Jaehyun’s. “Isn’t an easy commitment by being a boyfriend enough?”

“She’s not in danger-”

“Maybe she is,” Taeyong then pulls a folder from his desk drawer and puts on the tabletop gently. Jaehyun takes this as a cue and grabs the folder from the table, eyes widening from the picture clipped on the folder. 

It was your picture coming out from a grocery. Jaehyun remembers the chore from a few days ago.

“You know what you oathed for, Jaehyun,” Taeyong says, and surprisingly enough, in his tone was empathy. “The higher-ups don’t exactly want distractions within their agents’ personal life.”

“I’m also human, Taeyong hyung. Give me a break.”

“I would, but I can’t,” Taeyong sighs. “You’re an adult. You know what to do.”

He drops the folder back to the table and places his hands on his sides, curling into a fist. He chooses to remain silent.

━ ┉ ━

Winter came to the country’s capital.

You said that ordering pizza was fine, but he was thinking otherwise. Jaehyun took you to a fancy restaurant for dinner, saying that he just got paid and since it was only two weeks before your wedding, he took it as an opportunity to let you de-stress.

You appreciate the sweet gesture.

And now you’re going back to the comforts of your home. Snow started to fell as you billing out of the restaurants, and the floor was blanketed in glass ice in only a few minutes.

He was seated on the driver’s seat, one hand manning the wheel while the other intertwined with yours. You tell him to focus on the road and let your hand go, but his grip only tightens and brings it to his lips when it came to a red light. 

With the seconds ticking red, he looks at you, a toothy grin etched on his lips which caused the deep indents of his cheeks to come out. He looks at you admiringly, taking in your angelic features even though only illuminated by the dim lights brought about by the vehicles and street lights. 

“I love you,” he says, and no it has been thousands and millions of times you’ve heard those words - but it never fails to make you flush beet red and heart beat faster than normal.

“It’s a green,” you huff, eyes focusing back on the road. Jaehyun laughs and lets his hand back on the wheel. 

You didn’t know the dangers that lie ahead.

Jaehyun swore to protect you. Everything that he needs to keep, he successfully kept it from you. 

The true nature of his job. The true nature of his company.

The true nature of Jeong Jaehyun.

Winter came to Seoul too soon.

As for Jeong Jaehyun as well.

He hears you say “I love you” which caused him to glance at you for a brief moment, but his peripheral saw white-

A blinding white light.

He hears you scream. 

And then there was ringing. His vision was pitch black as his eyes were closed, yet his reflex in before was to hold you. 

He did. He grasps your hand, and your touch was the last sensation he felt as he started to succumb into a deep slumber.

━ ┉ ━

“Bye Teacher [Y/N]! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Bye, little one! See you tomorrow!”

Jaehyun sees you wave at the children as they go out of pre-school in a cold afternoon. The surroundings were covered in gold as the sun starts to set and children are scurrying to get home, some along with their parents.

He sees you smile towards them, a smile he had always admired and cherished. You never notice his figure in the background as you were busy with your goodbyes, but he notices your exhaustion by the weary look on your face. You go back inside the premises, hands stuck inside your apron to keep you from the cold.

He only wishes one thing now.

Jaehyun remembers you, and he hopes that you remember him as well.

[soundsfunbutno]

Janna Ordonia x reader

Britta’s Tacos 11:00 p.m.

I walked into the kitchen of Britta’s Tacos, just as Oscar was about to leave.

“Oh hi (Y/N)! You about to clock in?”

“Yes, I am. Better get to work, look at all these customers! They’re all waiting for a taco, an hour before midnight.” I said sarcastically, pointing at the nonexistent line of customers at the ordering window.

Oscar laughed while taking off his apron and grabbing his backpack, heading for the back door.

“Well I’ll leave you to it, see ya tomorrow (Y/N)!

“See ya!” I let out a sigh just as he closed the door, why do I have to work the late shift? I wouldn’t be sleeping at this hour anyways, I’d just be endlessly scrolling through Tumblr, but stil!

Running on pure monster energy drink and three hours of sleep, I put on my apron and hat, and walked over to the ordering window to wait for any customers to show up. About a month ago, the owner decided that Britta’s Tacos was going to become a twenty four hours restaurant. And of course I was the one who got assigned the 11 p.m.-7 a.m. shift.

I mean, it’s not that bad. I get some time away from my shitty family and the manager isn’t even here so I pretty much get to do whatever I want. This led to me making a TikTok account dedicated to showing what it’s like to work the night shift at Britta’s Tacos. Of course not all of my videos are about Britta’s Tacos, but about eighty percent of my TikToks are recorded here.

In my first month of working the night shift, I’ve met some interesting people. There was the trucker who had been broke so many times he didn’t know what to believe, the boy toy named troy who used to live in Detroit and many more. But none of them caught my eye like the girl that just sat down at that table just did.

There seemed to be this wave of I don’t give a fuck radiating off of her. And that was way more attractive to me than it should be. I noticed I had been staring when she dropped a heavy book onto the metal table which caused a loud noise to resonate through the courtyard and wake me up from my daydream.

She continued to place more books, sketchbooks and occult looking items such as animal skulls onto the table. And the whole time I was watching her the only thing going through my head was “Fuck, my gay is showing.”

As she stood up and made her way to the order window, I quickly turned off my work voice that I had to use with adult customers and switched to my regular voice.

“Hi, welcome to Britta’s Tacos. What can I get ya?”

“Just a uhm burrito and a large cherry coke please.”

OH MY GOD SHES’S NICE TO RESTAURANT STAFF ARF ARF BARK BARK.

Looks like I’m gay panicking again, okay lemme snap out of it.

“Alright I’ll be back with your order in just a moment.” I went to the kitchen and started off by toasting the tortilla for five seconds on each side. While putting the organs inside the tortilla skin I let my mind wander to that girl again.

I have to stop doing this, I catch feels way to quickly and it’s not even funny, it’s just sad. But I can’t help it.

“Well, I guess it’s time to not shoot my shot and regret it for the rest of my life.” I thought as I wrapped the burrito and poured the cherry coke into a cup. Bagging the order and putting it on a tray, I made my way back to the order number where the girl goddess was on the phone with someone.

“Yes Star, I’m sure it’s her. Now hurry over here before I break into your house and kidnap you.”

She hung up on her friend and turned towards me.

“Sorry for that, how much do I owe you?”

“That would be A dollar and eighteen cents.”

She handed me the money and just when I thought I’d never see her again and I’d never have a chance with her.

It happened.

Her phone rang.

And what was her ringtone?

Dead girl in the pool by girl in red.

Time to shoot that shot like they shot Harambe

“Ugh Tom stop calling me.” She mumbled under her breath as she declined the call.

My brain was fucking zooming as I tried to think of a conversation topic.

Then all of the sudden someone fucking tackled her.

I leaned over the counter and saw a girl with long blonde hair. I immediately recognized her voice as she loudly shrieked out. “JANNA BANANA”

“Ugh, Star get off!”

Okay so now I know her name is Janna. That’s progress, right?

But that’s besides the point. I know that bouncy ball! She’s my favorite TikTok mutual!

“Starship420?”

She turned her head towards me and her eyes seemed to light up as she recognized me.

“(Y/N)’s Tacos?”

I jumped over the counter and laughed in glee.

“Oh my god star! I had no Idea you lived in Echo Creek!”

“I didn’t know you lived here either!”

The girl who I now knew was named Janna walked over to her table with her food and started reading through one of her books.

“Yeah this is great! So uhm, can I get you anything?”

She held her chin as she thought about her order.

“You saw my sugarrito video?”

My expression suddenly went dead serious as I nodded to her and climbed back over the counter and headed towards the kitchen.

I continued to assemble a normal burrito but then dumped on five heaping tablespoons of sugar. I filled up a medium cup with mountain dew, bagged it up and brought it to the ordering window.

“Alright that’s a dollar and eighteen cents.”

Star grabbed a big stash of money from a wallet that didn’t look like it belonged to her and handed a five dollar bill to me.

“Thank you, and here’s your change.”

She grabbed her change and then proceeded to hurl it past my head into the kitchen.

“Keep the change.”

“I- okay thanks.”

Star took the tray from my hands and made her way towards Janna.

As I was picking up the change that Star decided to yeet into the kitchen I realized that me and Janna had one thing in common that could cause us to become friends.

We were both friends with Star.

Star had the ability to magically create new friendships. Because of star I met Ponyhead, Marco, Kelly and many more people.

I once again hopped over the counter and joined the two girls at their table, where Star was excitedly telling Janna about the science of the sugarrito while Janna was drawing different glyphs on a sheet of paper and mindlessly nodding to make it look like she was listening.

I bravely took a seat next to Janna.

“Watcha drawing?

Janna jumped and looked at me.

“Uhm yeah, ha you startled me. I’m trying to draw light glyphs.”

I looked at her drawings and realized I recognized them.

“Oh like from The Owl House?”

Okay (Y/N), this is your time. If she says she likes the show, mention Lumity and look at her reaction.

“Yes! You watch that show? I started watching after I found out Lumity is canon.”

OKAY THIS IS GOING GREAT SHE LIKES LUMITY

I let out a soft laugh and smiled at her. “I started crying during the dance scene!”

We both burst out laughing, as we were both attempting to catch our breath we subconsciously scooted closer to each other.

Both of us seemed to have forgotten that Star was there too but she was too busy to notice, aggressively texting someone.

She stood up and grabbed her unfinished drink. “Sorry guys, Marco’s REALLY upset that I stole his wallet again. He wants me to come home to return it. I’ll see you guys, maybe we can arrange a meetup tomorrow.”

She grabbed her wand out of nowhere and took a deep breath before yelling “SUMMONING CLOUDY CHARM”.

A fucking cloud that looked like it just consumed some psychedelics appeared out of thin air, Star hopped onto the cloud and flew away.

“Does she do that often?”

“Yeah, you should be seeing a lot of that when hanging out with her.”

Janna and I talked for what seemed like hours and hours. We both chugged the monster energy cans from my backpack and she tought me about the topics in her books.

She seemed to light up as she ranted about hexes and spells. And by the time the sun rose, I knew more about the paranormal then I thought was possible.

“My manager is coming in an hour, I should probably get everything set up to make it look like I was working all night, I’m not really looking to get fired.”

Janna stretched and began packing up all of her stuff. “So you wanna meet up again some time?”

I stood up placed a hand next to her on the table, leaning to the side.

Okay time for twenty seconds of bravery.

“Sure, when you got time?” I said to her, smirking.

She looked up at me, the tiniest blush forming on her face “Uhm, maybe we can meet up here on Thursday and we can watch a movie at my place? Maybe get some snacks from 7 eleven.

I pushed myself off of the table.

Sure, it’s a date.

I walked back to the restaurant, silently celebrating my succes.

Britta’s Tacos, 07:a.m.

I had just finished all of my tasks and was waiting for the manager to show up to dismiss me.

As Dana walked in she greeted me and looked at me questioningly.

“Girl you just finished an eight hour shift, what’s got you so happy?”

“Nothing”

[chalmogsico-college]

The witch Mint, the wizard Tortoise, and Luara who hadn't found her style quite yet, carefully made their way through the dark pine forest just outside of the school grounds. The perpetual frost that clung to the cold soil crinkled under foot as a sharp wind rattled the branches above them. The three mages were warm in their enchanted robes even as their breath fogged the air infront of them.

"I'm sure he's fine," Mint said, his arms crossed tight across his chest and his voice shaking just so slightly, "Hell, he was probably just running late. I bet he's already at the class room and we're going to be in trouble for not being there."

"No way," Luara replied, as she pushed onward towards the small cabin they knew was somewhere around here, "Professor Van Shamanov is never late, and you know how weird hes been acting over the last few weeks,"

"He's been acting weird because you keep trying to talk him into summoning a new familiar," Tortoise rolled their eyes, "Let the old bastard grieve,"

"Grieving is one thing, but his familiar has been dead for like a hundred years? He needs to move on, and like, its obvious he's capital L Lonely," Luara turns on her heel to follow a different path through the woods, hopeful that This would be the right one. She doesn't worry about getting lost, worst case scenario Mint's insane sense of direction would save them.

"Yeah, I'm going to side with Luara on this one, Tort," Mint nodded as Tortoise gasped in mock offense, "You heard what Headmistress said, the man's getting to the edge of what The Viper will allow. He shouldn't be all alone in the end, and you know he won't just make a friend or something. Too much of a loner,"

"Nope! He won't make new friends because his trio is broken," Luara said,

"And how would you know that?" Tortoise quirked a brow, "Been snooping on our favorite GILF?"

Luara stopped and turned to glare at them, and to their credit, Tortoise managed to not flinch or look away for an entire ten seconds, "He isn't a GILF because that would imply one of us wants to fuck him," Tortoise intoned like a scolded child as they dropped their gaze.

"Good neither." Luara turned to set back on their way as Mint snickered.

Eventually they did find their way to the rotting cabin, a full two hours after class was supposed to have started. Luara took the old brass knocker in hand and thunked it down hard against its strike plate three times.

A moment passed with no response.

Luara raised her hand to knock again as the door swung open on screeching hinges.

Professor Van Shamanov's impressive bulk filled the doorway as he stooped down to glare at his visitors from below the head jamb.

His eyes softened as he saw his startled students, bending to step out of his home and closing the door behind himself as he spoke, "Hello," his voice was rough with too many years spent in fire warmed rooms, "I suppose I'm a bit late for class aren't I?" He untied his robe from around his waist to put it on properly as he started back towards the college.

"Yes sir," Luara never thought of herself as short until she was having to jog to keep pace with their frankly giant teacher's strides, "We were worried about you, its not like you to be late,"

"Yes, I know I've been out of it lately," He nods before changing the topic, "Did you three complete your assignment? Gathered all of your components for today?" he holds out a hand and whistls to call his staff to him, the gnarled thing shot out of the woods like a torpedo but he caught it with practiced ease before it could splinter itself against the trunks of one of the trees, "And are you positive the components you chose are the ones you want to use? The difference could very well change the course of you lives."

Mint fussed with the bundle in his pocket before nodding. Tortoise pulled theirs from under their hat and smiled as they held it up proudly. Luara pulled two from her coat, one wrapped in the yellow she preferred for her spell work, one in the soft lavender Van Shamanov did.

"Yeah, and I brought one for you two," Luara chirped as non chalantly as she could.

To all three students surprise the professor actually held out a hand for it, "I'm curious what you think I'd put in that circle," he huffed good naturedly.

Luara handed it over and giddily tossed a smirk over her shoulder at the others as Van Shamanov undid the bindings to open it up.

A moment later she crashed into him as he stopped dead in his tracks to turn towards her. Luara staggered a step back, "Everything okay professor?" She asked nervously.

"Who told you? I assume Katy, but Headmistress might have known as well," his gaze was focused on the items in his palm, a dried orchid bloom, a nickel ring, and a wishbone.

"Dean Deane ," Luara said with an averted gaze, it wasn't like the professor to show such open anger, "She thinks you need to summon a new familiar, and that if you had the same components you did for your first it might be easier for you,"

"Please do not snoop like this again." Van Shamanov said firmly before turning back on his path, "We will be quiet until we get to class," he commands.

---

The other two trios that made up their summoning 833 class perked up as Van Shamanov entered.

"My apologies for being late. Is everyone ready to begin?" He pulled a tarp from his desk drawer and tossed it into the air. It straightened itself out and settled ready for use in the clear spot in the center of the room.

He waits for the murmurs of agreement to die down before starting on his spiel, "I trust that every last one of you has put the necessary time and thought into what will be happening today. A familiar is a life partner, they will be at your side through thick and thin and will be entirely reliant on you for the magical energy that sustains their like. They will aid you in every way they can and do whatever it takes to help you as long as you return that favor. They are powerful and temperamental creatures of contract, harming or betraying them will be the last thing you do. If any one of you has any hesitations about this, any second thoughts, anything other than Full confidence in what you are about to do, what components you have chosen, or what you will say to them once they are listening, leave. You are not ready yet, and I say that without judgment, I'd rather see you leave today than with a disloyal familiar tomorrow."

He stood infront of his class, head held high as he finished his final warning and reminder and waited to see if any of his students would flinch. When he was met with only eager eyes and nervous smiles he grinned from beneath his beard, "Very good," he turned to who he has decided will go first, "Tortoise, you're up," he finishes firmly as he steps back towards his desk

"Wait, Why?" Tortoise hesitated to get out of their seat.

"Because I'm upset with Luara and I know she wants to go first. By asking you to go first I am acknowledging that as directly as I am ethically allowed to." He takes his seat at his desk as Luara pouts.

"Why not Mint?" Tortoise looked to his friend who blanched at the suggestion, "Never mind, I forgot he was a coward," they sighed and pulled their bundle of components and their wand from beneath their hat as they stood to go to the edge of the circle.

The bundle was dropped in the center of the interlaced runes. The room was near silent beside the soft crackle of the torches. With everyone's attention on them Tortoise knelt in one of the smaller warded circles that surrounded the larger summoning circle.

Their instincts told them to just start pouring magic into it, a show of power to attract an equally powerful familiar, but Professor Van Shamanov had warned them against doing that. Power and Impulsiveness were not a good mix. Besides, they were a wizard, without structure their magic would fizzle and drain too quickly for them to really get anything going.

So, they took a deep breath and reached out to the warding line, pouring magic into it to set it glowing and active. Familiars didn't tend to turn violent with their summoners even if they declined the offer, but it never hurt to be cautious. Then they found the connecting line, the one that wrapped around and around and around the circle, that conected it to the other they'd be reaching into to try and coax a familiar across the boundary from one universe to another. Finally, they found the call line and pushed a surge of power through it, along with the promise of their favorite dice set, a bell they found in the sand outside their childhood home, and a bracelet their little brother had made for them before he passed away.

Speaking the meaning of the offerings was not a necessity, but Tortoise always struggled with the ephemeral and passing concepts along a line like this was definitely more a witch's skill than a wizard's.

"I offer you a dice set with the blessing of The Raven, she's my patron and she could be yours as well. A bell I found when I was young, I carried it with me on a chain around my neck for many years, it doesn't ring anymore but it holds more memories than I could speak, and a gift from my little brother, he didn't know about magic, but he told me that it would protect me. And well… I haven't died yet? So, I assume it works," they take a breath to find their center, "I am called Tortoise and I ask for…" They paused, this was the part that even with the years they had had to think about it, he could never decide on, "I ask for a friend. Someone who's sturdy and who I can rely on."

A hushed moment passed as the candles flickered and the smell of ozone filled the room. At first a fine mist formed within the summoning circle, it glittered like a frozen fog as it passed from its world and into ours, though soon it was thickening around the offered items and taking a solid form.

Tortoise couldn't help but choke out a laugh as a galapagos tortoise took shape before him. Its dull grey shell alone was bigger around than the circle Tortoise knelt in,

"What am I called?" the tortoise asked with a smooth water thin voice,

"Wizard," Tortoise responded with the name that formed heavy in their mind as soon as the tortoise had taken shap. They grinned and stood and let the magic fade from the circle, to set Wizard free of the bindings on it that trapped her within it.

"I look forward to being your friend, Tortoise," Wizard said as she made her way out of the circle with the slow elegant confidence only a fey shaped like a tortoise could muster.

The rest of the class clapped and jeered, Mint shook their shoulder as they took their seat, and Luara clapped and half jumped out of her seat to take her turn before Professor Van Shamanov could call on someone elsee.

Tortoise couldn't stop smiling after Wizard got comfortable next to them, nor could they focus on their friend's turn. They had a familiar and they looked forward to being her friend.

[riftimagines]

Welp here’s a one shot no one asked for but I wrote this for a friend who also loves Kayn and had been feeling kinda down about their body lately and I really hope this cheers you up a bit! 

Kayn x Chubby!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mild NSFW

Summer in Ionia could get very warm and humid, so much so that it felt like a sauna outside. On these days nothing was better then taking a dip in the many rivers and lakes Ionia had to offer. Thats where you were headed now, to a nice secret swimming spot you’ve had since you were a child. You never did liked to go swimming when there were others around. Too much noise, horseplay, and judgmental eyes. You weren’t exactly thin. Being a bit full around your middle, backside and thighs always made you feel uncomfortable and no matter how hard you tried it just never seemed to go away. It made you stand out amongst all the lithe, thin, graceful women of your village that would sometimes stare at you with distain. They always made you uncomfortable in your own skin everyday until a couple months ago when you seemingly meet your Heartlight, Kayn. He was just so inexplicably drawn to you. You didn’t stare at him with the usual cowering fear of him when he walked into your shop for supplies, even when you knew he was part of the Order of Shadows and even had the audacity to sass him. Something in him stirred that day and he wanted more so he kept coming back practically everyday until out of the blue he asked you out. Most people would have declined being courted by the right hand of the shadows but he was so bold, quirky, and ridiculously attractive you couldn’t say no.

Now, your home is a second home for him and every few days, or weeks depending on his assignments, he’d come to stay with you for awhile to take a break from his missions. Today was the day he’d arrive and you left a note on your door so he’d know where to find you. As much as you love him you were not going to suffer on this horribly humid day, he’d be fine he’s a big boy. You walk for a couple more minutes when the sound of rushing water drifts in your ears. You pull back some overgrown vines to reveal the waterfall framed by summer flowers that summoned you to this spot. You smile excitedly at the prospect of not sweltering anymore and quickly place a bag with extra clothes you brought on a rock and remove your shoes and short thin robe just to cover you on your trek through the woods. Underneath you wore your swimming outfit, a form fitting crop top and a bit short shorts. You never did like some of the skimpier swimming out fits some of the other women wore and chose to keep it simple. Not waiting a moment longer you dove into the cool water and immediately sigh in relief. This was the absolute best.

You floated there for a few minutes before starting to swim to the grotto under the waterfall. Underneath was a nice little alcove that was perfect for getting out of the sun but still staying in the water. A rock in the back was just out of the water enough for you to sit on but still keep your legs in the water. As you hopped on and sat on it however you couldn’t help but feel your body…jiggle and something touching the skin of your thighs. You look down and feel a flash of embarrassment as you realize that thing was your stomach gently resting on your thighs. Immediately a knot formed in your guts and a feeling of dread sets in. It had seemed like you had put on some weight and in these somewhat tight and revealing clothes it was blatantly noticeable. Oh gods, why? How did this happen? How did you not notice? Granted you knew you were a bit plump but you were usually so careful about not getting more plump. Your mind races as to what happened to cause this and a only one predominant thing came to mind, Kayn. You know he probably didn’t mean for this to happen at all but as you two dated he noticed you liked sweets and whenever he’d travel and think of you he’d bring you back treats if he could just to make you smile. You could never turn them down, they were from your love after all, and more often times then not they were delicious and you couldn’t help but eat them all.

You glare down at the offending mass in your lap and experimentally touch it and grimace when your hand sinks into its softness. You move your hands around the rest of your body to inspect the damage your just noticed. Your sides softened and began to roll in the middle and was pouring over the lip of your shorts. Shorts that suddenly felt tighter then normal. They squeezed your thighs just enough to make them puff out the bottom of the fabric. The moment of mortification for you was when you felt your backside. It easily filled your hands and spread far more while you sat then you had expected. How long had you looked like this? Had Kayn noticed? Oh Gods, you couldn’t let him see you like this! He hadn’t seen you in such revealing clothing and you were sure he’d be disgusted if he saw you now. Your thoughts fill your head and block out the sound of someone entering the grotto and calling out to you. Something moved in close to you and in the corner of your eye you see Kayn looking at you in confusion. In your shock of seeing him you scream and fall back into the water. You pop back up only to hear his laughter and see his smug face. You give him a glare and curl in on yourself. This action makes him raise a brow. He swims closer to you and tries to embrace you. Oh no, you couldn’t let him touch you. You couldn’t bare to see his face contort into disgust upon feeling your plushness. You push firmly on his chest in an attempt to get him away, which only confuses him more and makes him more determined to hold you. He overpowers you quickly and has you in his arms then pouts at your behavior.

“What’s wrong? You never push me way. Did I do something to upset you?” Oh no, he thinks its him thats the problem. You shake your head and try to squirm out of his grasp only to be held down by his iron grasp. He frowns more deeply this time.

“If it’s not me then what is it? Come now, don’t be ridiculous and just spit it out already.” He says with a lace of frustration in his voice. You turn red and wish you could just get out of this conversation but Kayn was as stubborn as a Mule and won’t relent until he gets his answer. You sigh deeply. Time to face the music you suppose.

“I-I guess I’m just feeling a bit self conscious right now because I put on some weight and I know you would be disgusted with me.” You can’t meet his eyes. It would hurt too much to see that handsome face turn into another face of judgement. Instead of instant rejection he just huffs out a short laugh and places a kiss upon your cheek.

“That’s all? I already noticed you had put on some weight but, admittedly, I liked where it was going.” He says with some cheekiness in his voice. You look up at him and he has a wide cheshire grin plastered across his face. You suddenly gasp and instinctively swat his shoulder as his hands roam down and feel up your larger backside.

“It was also rather bold of you to just assume I’d find you disgusting for such a trivial thing. Your appearance was not the reason I fell in love with you, it was just an added bonus really.” You blush brightly and he chuckles. The knot in your stomach loosens slightly but you can’t shake off the rest of your doubt. You know he’s not lying, he’s too blunt, but you can’t help but feel nervous. Kayn catches on from your facial expressions and sighs.

“You are an obstinate woman. You truly doubt my love for you? Here, let me show you just how much I love you.” He quickly and suddenly moves you both through the water back to where you were sitting earlier and lifts you up to sit you back down. Your taken back a bit by his strength and thrown right back into embarrassment as he pushes your legs apart and he settles between them. His face comes right up to your soft stomach and you feel the need to wrap your arms around it. He stops you and holds your arms apart leaving your tummy exposed to his golden eyes.

“Don’t be shy, my love. You don’t need to hide anything from me. Now, where to begin.” He hums for a moment and you don’t know what he’s thinking. Your answer comes quickly though as he releases your arms and in a blink of an eye has his muscular arms wrapped around your middle and his face buried into your pudgy center.

“Kayn!” You exclaim loudly. You put your hands in his raven black hair and tug softly to try to get him off but he just burrows deeper and starts to kiss your rounded middle. You had never been so red in your life as Kayn loves up your body. Large calloused hands working your sides, sinking in as far as they’d go, his face engulfed in your ample belly, leaving kisses on as much of it as he can.

“Mmm, so soft, so warm. Why would you want to deny me this?” He asks through half lidded eyes of pleasure. If you thought your face couldn’t get any redder you were apparently wrong. You could practically feel steam coming off your face as you looked at his expression.

“I-I guess I thought I’d be too big for you. I didn’t think a guy as handsome as yourself would want to be seen with me.” He pauses his ministrations and looks at you with a face of exasperation.

“You’ll never be too big for me. I do tend to be a bit greedy when it comes to you and I WILL have all of you no matter how much of you there is. Like I said earlier, love, I did not fall in love with your body first. As long as the soul inside stays the same I do not care the vessel it comes in. Though, I am quite pleased with this one. You will most definitely be my cushion from now on.” You can’t help but smile at his words and dip down to kiss his forehead. He smiles victoriously and once more goes in to place a deep kiss on the lower half of your belly before pulling you into the water to float on top of him. You start to giggle softly from all his affections.

“Feeling better my, Heartlight? Do you still doubt my love?” You shake your head and reach up to ensnare him into a kiss that he happily returns.

“I do feel much better, thank you. I’m sorry I doubted your affections.” He smiles with a touch of arrogance.

“You should be. It wounds me that you would think I was so low. I think you need to make it up to me.” He says with a mischievous tone. Your nervousness returns slightly as he pretends to think about what he wanted just to make you sweat bullets for a moment. Your anxiety doesn’t allow you to wait very long and you have to ask.

“What do you want me to do?” He stops thinking and smirks with his fangs that make him look even more devious then normal.

“So eager, darling? Not to worry it won’t be anything bad. In fact, I know your going to enjoy it too. All I want is, when we return home, for you to let me fully show my love for you.” You look at him quizzically for a moment before you can feel him thumbing at the hem of your shorts. Oh. Ooooh. Your face immediately inflames and he laughs out as you swat him in the chest.

“Your such a perv.” You mumble out and he chuckles a bit deeply.

“Only for you and only if you let me.” It was your turn to laugh. You then lay your head on his breast bone and kiss his chin. He returns the gesture to your forehead and then brings his hands to your sides and starts to fondle your softness gently. Perhaps it was foolish to think that your Heartlight wouldn’t love you because you were a bit heavier. Quite frankly he seemed to be enjoying it more then anything and if you let him he’ll enjoy all of that too. You feel one of his hands reach your face and cup the curve of your supple cheek and begins to rub his thumb across it tenderly. His eyes full of love and affection. Yeah definitely a bit foolish.

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

TW: Ouija Board Use, Disturbing Topics, Ghost Mentions, Possession Mention, Talks about the Sixth Sense, Blood Mention, Suicide Mention

**Don’t read this if you’re easily scared**

There’s this thing that I just can’t get out of my head.

I figured that if I shared it maybe the nagging thought would leave me alone, so I’m writing this here to account it with that hope.

Last night I was watching a horror movie with my sister and her girlfriend and it just reminded me of someone that I knew back when I first started Uni.

But first full disclaimer here, I was never really close to this person, we had just met in my English class because we sat next to each other and had a couple of group work assignments together, but that was it. I’ll only talk about my experiences while I was with this girl, we’ll call her B for the sake of this recounting. And yes, this actually happened, but as you should with anything you read off of the internet, take it with a grain of salt because even I don’t know if I’m recounting everything perfectly, it happened a couple of years ago now and I’m trying to remember them as I write this.

I’m a very superstitious person, also. I totally buy into that bad luck stuff about ladders and mirrors, but my belief stems from I simply don’t want to try it if it ends up being true. That and from my Filipino descent I have many relatives who are superstitious also, not to mention the sixth sense runs in both sides of my family and is floating around somewhere in my generation so I don’t want to suddenly awaken that shit, no way (I’ll include a bit explaining that at the end of this post if you’re curious). Hell, I’m so superstitious that I won’t watch certain movies that deal with summoning entities just in case, or at least, I won’t watch them at home. But onto the story.

Anyway, the movie we were watching mentioned a Ouija board once or twice, which is what reminded me of my classmate, and it just sent chills down my spine and I’m still thinking about this even now because, my god, I am certain that she was possessed by something.

If you don’t know what a Ouija board it, let me crash course you. Essentially it is a tool to communicate with otherworldly creatures. Its a board with letters, numbers, and a yes/no option, and you hold on to the planchet (which is a huge triangle with a magnifying glass in the middle) and theoretically the spirit you contact will move it around to respond to your inquiries. However, this is not always the case, the board serves as a portal, and it is very rare that the entity you are trying to contact is actually the one interacting with you, and such it is considered a profane object. Once you bring it into your home alone you open your home to immense amounts of negative energy and it is now somewhat of an area of thin protection in which otherworldly entities can walk in and out of.

Basically, don’t fuck with them.

Now B is a huge occult fan, she loves the stuff, has read books on it and everything but, go figure, she’s a religious studies major and she wanted to specify in more occult practices, and with that you’d think she’d know never to dabble in those things, but I think her choice of major stemmed from a different kind of fascination in it. I think her thing was that she wanted to see if this occult stuff was real, I think she was a true skeptic and she just got a kick out of playing dangerous games and inviting dangerous creatures. I remember being appalled when she recounted her experience playing the dangerous game known as the [Midnight Game], which still gives me nightmares to this day. Either way, it would be an understatement for me to say that I wasn’t worried about her.

One day around week 8 of the quarter, meaning we were finishing up the quarter and starting to study for finals, while we were working together in class, she brought up to me and the other two group members (C and D for simplicity and anonymity) that she recently purchased a ouija board. And I immediately voiced my concern. 

“You’ve already fucked with spirits before in the Midnight Game and [Dry Bones], are you trying to piss them off even more?” I was genuinely worried about her.

“Come on, Crys, they’re not real.” She insisted that towards me, but me and C made eye contact, both of us being Filipino and highly superstitious, we warned her again to give it back to where she got it from but she refused.

“What are you going to talk to anyway, B?” D asks her.

“Dunno, maybe I’ll talk to my granddad.”

“Or you could open your apartment to a poltergeist who will possess you and kill you slowly,” I said with a half joking tone, or at least that’s how I intended it to be.

“If you’re going to be so uptight about it then ignore me, Crys. It’s just a game,” she scoffs.

“Sure, yeah, I just think it’s smarter not to try anything. You’re already walking around with a target on your back because of the other games you’ve played, I’m just worried that something bad will happen to you this time. They come in threes, B,” I continued on. I didn’t know if it was fear for her or for me.

Needless to say she didn’t show up the next class. Me, C, and D just brushed this off as maybe she decided to skip class, which she had done many times before, and didn’t think much more of it. Of course I was still worried, I had a feeling that it had something to do with the board, but she looked really pissed when I brought it up to her so I didn’t want to overstep more than I already did.

But when she didn’t show up for the next week’s worth of classes, that’s when we really got concerned. We asked my professor about it just in case she just dropped the class and didn’t tell us, but no, she was still on the roster. So we decided to pay her a visit and make sure everything was alright.

Now we knew where she lived, it was an off campus apartment a couple of blocks away from school so it was an easy walk, and we had been there a handful of times already for group work. It was a relatively new apartment she had moved into before school started and, to our knowledge, she hadn’t tried anything there yet up until the board. But when I stood outside of her door, something just felt off. The air felt still, and something just wasn’t right. I knocked on the door and nothing. No shuffling, no movement, we thought she wasn’t home. But right when we turned to leave, the door opened.

Now B looked horrible. Her cheeks were sunken in and the bags under her eyes were more than just concerning.

“Hey, are you okay?” D asks her.

“I just have the flu,” B responds. Her voice was hoarse.

Now here is where I am conflicted. As you all know, I’m a premed student, and as you now know I am superstitious to a fault. My rational side says “ah, I get it now” but my superstitious one told me to call a priest. Like yes, the flu can do this to you, but it’s been a week. 

Either way we’re backing away from the door. She opens it wider, as if to let us in, and when I tell you the apartment looked unrecognizable, I mean it. It looked nearly unlivable actually. I swear there was probably something alive hiding under the piles of pizza boxes and clothes. And this really concerned us because we knew B to be a very clean person, she always was throughout the quarter and would even reprimand C for being so messy himself, so the change was very jarring for us.

“You can come in if you want,” she says. “I haven’t been upholding my end of the group project.”

“No, it’s fine,” I declined for the group.

“I insist.”

“You have the flu, we could catch it.”

“You won’t, I know you’re all careful,” she says. Keep in mind, C and I are premed and D is accounting.

“We just wanted to check in on you,” D steps in now, seeing that I’m uncomfortable.

“Then why did you come all the way here and bother me?” She snapped. We were taken aback and she just shook her head. “Forget it, I’ll be fine by the presentation date. Just email me what I have to do.” Then she closed the door and was gone.

She never came back to class, and I learned later from another person in our class, who I’m assuming she was close with, that she dropped out of uni altogether. She never really told us either, so we had to rush to finish her part of the project, which was horrific, but that’s besides the point.

It’s just... this superstitious nature of mine typically gets in the way of a lot of things I choose to do. It’s always the first thing I put into consideration. And it’s a bit strange considering how... bad of a Catholic I am. Either way it’s just terrifying. Maybe I’m just more hyper aware of it because of how “close” I am to otherworldly things. I have cousins who’ve played games like [The Hosting Game] or [Lady Spades]. So I can sometimes feel things when they’re not right, then of course there’s the whole sixth sense running in both sides of my family thing so there’s that too. I don’t know, the whole thing just rubbed me wrong and still does to this day. I guess I’m more afraid of these negative energies reflecting back on me somehow, who knows?

I don’t know, maybe this was just me vastly overthinking things, maybe I’m just being paranoid, but something just didn’t sit right with me with that last exchange we had, who knows? The movie I watched last night just reminded me of her so much and I started getting worried again, I just hope she’s alright.

~

As for the promised bit about the sixth sense running in my family, here’s an abridged version from what I’ve learned:

On my mother’s side, it skips generations (therefore it is in my generation). The most notable one with this sense currently is my Uncle, who can see the auras of spirits (white for passive ones, red for aggressive ones, etc.) he’s helped other family members and extended members for many things involving these. There’s a certain term for him, actually, in the Philippines that is. He’s definitely not a shaman, no way, but the term escapes me for now. But it stemmed far back in our family’s lineage when we did have shamans and albularyos (witch doctors), if you looked up my mother’s maiden name in the Philippines you’ll even find an extensive history behind them (Obviously I won’t share that, but they were a very prominent Clan throughout the Philippines and still are in some islands). They have a history of communicating with enkantos (which are environmental spirits), the strongest one in our family to date being my great-great grandfather. I also have a cousin who sees spirits as they died, like if they happened to jump off of a tall building (and I’ll spare you the details because the aftermath is bloody) he will see them like that, it was so bad that he even went to the best therapists in the UK to treat it, but something like that isn’t exactly... treatable. So there’s that. 

On my father’s side it’s a bit more muddled. We don’t understand the pattern it’s in, we just know that some people have it and most don’t. And if anything, it’s more of a curse. In every generation there has been someone who’s literally gotten possessed (one of my aunt’s did in the Philippines, she got possessed by a duwende I think? I’ll have to ask again). Haven’t had a possession yet in my generation (and no that’s not an invitation), but we’ve had hauntings many a time that my previously mentioned uncle helped us out with. There’s also a spirit who appears to every male who carries the name, and apparently when she is seen said male should not travel anywhere, some cases being my grandfather’s usual transit bus which drove off a cliff, my dad’s brother’s motorcycle combusting, etc. Whatever is going on in my dad’s side likely got passed down to me so I’m being extra careful.

TL;DR: I’m very superstitious because of the shit that has happened on both sides of my family and that probably fed into my fear for B.

Anyway, if you guys want scary stories, trust me, I’ve got scary stories.

[afni-fics]

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn: Chapter 27: Dragon Rising (aftermath)

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn: Chapter 27: Dragon Rising (aftermath) (35298 words) by C_R_Scott Chapters: 27/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics), Batman (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Modded Skyrim, Skyrim Spoilers, Tim Drake is Dragonborn | Dovahkiin, Tim Drake-centric, Trope: It sucks to be the chosen one, Trope: Trapped in another world, Trope: Kidnapped by the Call

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | >Next Chapter

Summary:

The immediate aftermath of the recent events at at Dragonsreach. Tim, Lucien, and Irileth go to have a private conversation at the local Whiterun tavern, The Bannered Mare.

It was almost funny. 

Even when he was constantly suffering from his burns shortly after Helgen, Tim had been reluctant to indulge in any of the local meads, ales, or wines offered at the taverns both in Riverwood and Whiterun. He knew he was just barely eighteen and not the legal age of consumption back home. When he drank any of the alcoholic beverages, it was due to the fact that the taverns had practically nothing else to drink and he honestly questioned the quality of some of the water he was offered. 

Now, about two weeks since Helgen and after that "meeting" with the Jarl, there was no hesitation as Tim took the first goblet of wine the waitress Saadia offered when he, Lucien, and Irileth entered The Bannered Mare. He snagged the goblet and accompanying bottle so smoothly that Saadia almost didn't notice it was gone until the clink of Septims replaced their spots on her metal serving tray. By the time she'd realized the exchange had been made, Tim was already halfway across the room, had poured out his first glass, and was tipping it to his mouth.. 

"Hey--" the dark skinned Redguard woman started to protest, but Lucien stepped in her way and offered a pained smile. 

"Sorry about my friend," he said as he took the other two empty goblets and dropped a few more coins on her tray. "But we really need that bottle right now." 

"Hulda," Irileth addressed the woman behind the bar. "I'm renting the room upstairs for them tonight. Any more food and drink they consume can go on my personal tab. We're not to be disturbed."

Hulda, the tavern's owner, nodded respectfully. "As you wish, Housecarl."

Irileth motioned for Timothy and Lucien to head up the stairs ahead of her before following behind. Once they were in the room, the Dunmer woman sighed with exasperation. "Well that all happened."

Tim had just finished filling Lucien's goblet and offered to pour one for Irileth. She looked like she wanted to decline initially, but then relented and accepted. 

Lucien swirled the dark red liquid in his goblet. "So... I suppose a toast to our new Thane is in order," he said sardonically as he raised the goblet in Tim's general direction. 

Tim rolled his eyes. "Don't you start," he complained irritably. "I still don't know what that means."

"It means the Jarl of Whiterun has given you, a perfect stranger and rumored mythical figure, a honorary noble title, along with all the power and influence behind it, with the same amount of impulse and foresight as those earlier assignments that nearly took your life," Irileth grumbled.

"The amounts of which were entirely too much of the former and not enough of the latter?" Lucien added with a sarcastic lilt to this voice

Irileth sighed at the scholar, but didn't dispute his claims.

"Why did Jarl Balgruuf give me this title in the first place?" Tim asked wearily. "I didn't do anything to deserve a reward this valuable. I feel like it's put me in the Jarl's debt!"

Irileth took a sip from her goblet and sighed. "He made you Thane not because of what you did, but who you are. Rest assured you are not in debt to him or Whiterun."

She leaned against the wall and continued her explanation. "The Jarl, Proventus, and I had spoken at length about appropriate compensation for your work and the pain and suffering you endured because of what you had been asked to do while you were healing at the Temple." She pointed at the cloak-wrapped bundle. "That along with a generous purse of Septims and a choice of a new weapon from the finest pieces Warmaiden's has to offer was to be the original compensation." 

Curiously, Tim set down his goblet so he could unwrap the parcel. His eyes lit up at the new full suit of leather armor folded neatly in front of him. He unfolded just the jacket and studied it appreciatively, leaving the pants, boots, and gloves on the table. The leather was dark brown, high quality from the feel of it, and was reinforced in strategic areas both for added protection and warmth without sacrificing range of movement. It sported a high double-folded collar that would better protect his neck and metal spaulders that would do the same for his upper arms and shoulder joints. 

"This, with the gold and the new weapon, would've been just fine with me," Tim agreed as he set the jacket down on the back of the nearby chair. "Why did the Jarl change everything at the last minute?"

"Is it because of the Greybeards and their 'summons' today?" Lucien asked.

The Dunmer nodded. "Place yourselves on the Jarl's throne. The first Dragonborn acknowledged and summoned by the Greybeards since Tiber Septim during the Second Era is witnessed in Whiterun Hold. This should have been an event of great distinction for the Jarl and his city. Unfortunately. because of his impulsive decisions earlier, that first new Dragonborn to be acknowledged in over one thousand years nearly died before he could fulfill whatever destiny the gods have in store for him." 

Tim didn't know who this Tiber Septim was, but based on the way Irileth spoke of him and the way Lucien seemed to sit up and take notice made it seem like he had another important historic figure to research as soon as he could. 

Irileth looked at Tim. "After the Watchtower battle and you were sequestered at the Temple for healing, the rumors of you being Dragonborn spread like wildfire throughout the city. Some believed immediately while others were quite skeptical. However, I was in the Plains District today when the Greybeards sent their summons." She shook her head. "As soon as that summons went out, those Nords who had been skeptical turned to believers.

"So" Lucien murmured. "Basically this whole overblown escalation of Timothy's compensation by the Jarl was essentially damage control because his actions nearly killed this Era's potential new Dragonborn. Balgruuf felt the need to immediately acknowledge and elevate Timothy's standing to show his appreciation, both to stay in good favor with his citizens and with the Divines."

"I think I can understand the need to appease is citizens, but why the Divines?" Tim asked curiously.

Lucien continued. "Well, the only way a new Dragonborn can exist in this Era at all at this point is if they were chosen and blessed by the Divines themselves. The Septim Dragonborn dynasty was extinguished in the Third Era. Some might interpret this to mean the Dragonborn themselves is a rare gift from the Divines to the world. To even inadvertently cause grave injury to the Dragonborn without adequate recompense could be seen as rejecting their gift and insulting the Gods."

Tim sighed. The more he heard about this title "Dragonborn" in connection to him, the more it felt like a heavy albatross slung around his neck. The idea that some "god" had kidnapped him from Earth just to be a "divine gift" for an alien world made his skin crawl. 

It made him feel less than human.

He shook his head to shove those thoughts back into a dark corner of his mind to be nightmare fuel for another night. "Well, what's done is done," Tim muttered.  "I don't know if I'm this Dragonborn thing everyone says I am. However, I do know I'm now a Thane, for whatever it's worth, and I've been 'summoned' by someone powerful enough to trigger small earthquakes by yelling for me, so I probably shouldn't keep them waiting." In an effort to turn the page on this day's events, he went to his backpack and pulled out his map of Skyrim before looking to Irileth. "Since I don't seem to have much of a choice in the matter, can you show us the best way to High Hrothgar?"

After getting all the information they can to prepare from Irileth, the Dunmer returns to Dragonsreach. Lucien leaves to start purchasing supplies, and Tim changes into his new gifted armor from the Jarl before heading down into the tavern for food and to write in his journal.

Note:

Author Note: Going to add a journal entry soon, then going to start the journey to High Hrothgar. I need to test a new mod, though, to add to the immersion and potentially fun screenshots. If it works, then YAY! If it doesn't, then oh well. The story will continue. If it works, I will share the name and link to the mod itself.

#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#afewnovelideas

[oops-i-wrote-it]

Eagles and Robins ch15 Moonlight

For once, just once, Robin saw a glimmer of hope that this month may be peaceful.

There was a ball happening, along with a competition, and the classes had been assigned guard duty to watch out for intruders. Guard duty! He dared not cling to this glimmer of hope, but the idea of festivities taking up his time rather than Grima and death put a spring in his step.

“Can you believe we have to wear uniforms? I was hoping I’d get to try out something new.” Morgan huffed as she examined the stalls at the market. Robin was keeping his promise to make things up to her, she was rather furious about him sending her away while he summoned Grima. Not that Robin regretted his choice in the slightest, he knew how much Grima loved to taunt the children.

“Like what? You always hated ballgowns back home.” Robin chuckled, but winced when a particularly expensive-looking necklace caught Morgan’s eye.

“It’s not that I hated them, I think they’re lovely! …On other people.” Morgan threaded the chain of the necklace between her fingers. “I suppose I feel the same way about them as you feel about the crown, father. They’re wonderful and all, and considering my birth, I should feel right at home wearing one, but… I don’t know, it just seems like a physical manifestation of a role I can never fulfil properly. If I was raised to be a princess, I have no memory of it. What good would I be then?” Her words struck Robin right in the chest. Truly, it was worrying how alike they were at times.

“Well, we can consider this ball good practise then. Besides, you’ll always have myself and your mother to guide you through anything like that back home.” Robin couldn’t help but smile, she really did have him wrapped around her little finger. Owain could have the same, though he rarely seemed to ask for much besides swords, training sessions, storytelling, the chance to name or re-name Robin’s battle tactics, and the occasional evening to bond. Robin sighed and handed over the gold for the necklace, Morgan giggled and hugged him with her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her height as she always did. He couldn’t help but smile, he knew she wasn’t materialistic. Morgan was made of mischief, but took any opportunity to spend time with him, if it so happened to fit a father-daughter-cliché, all the better. Truthfully, the two were still growing used to one another, and learning how to interact as a parent and child.

“You’re the best, father!” Morgan was grinning from ear-to-ear, and Robin rolled his eyes through a smile. “Come on, let’s head back! I want to show Lucina!” She tugged Robin along by the arm, through the halls of the monastery until she caught sight of Lucina and Dimitri. A flash of red caught Robin’s attention, and he saw Edelgard at the corner of his vision pretending she hadn’t made eye contact with him.

“Edelgard, how is the day treating you?” Robin made his way over. She had been avoiding him as of late, he wanted to nip this in the bud now, rather than wait until classes resumed. She had declined an invitation to tea from every professor, even when the other house leaders were in attendance. Robin had hardly seen Hubert as well.

“Just fine, thank you professor.” She smiled uneasily. “Are you looking forward to the ball this month? Have you chosen a representative for the White Heron Cup?”

“I have an idea. I once knew a dancer, you know. Shy as ever.” Robin chuckled. Truth be told, he had an idea but he wanted to speak to Bel first. “I think a celebration is just what we all need to take our minds off the events last month, don’t you agree?”

“I do… though I must admit, I feel out of my element seeing everyone so joyful.” Dorothea caught Edelgard’s eye, twirling around on the green just outside of the classrooms with Morgan.

“It’s alright to relax every once in a while, you know.” Robin smiled. “Are you still feeling uneasy about what happened?”

“I am.” Edelgard’s gaze dropped to the ground. “Hubert tells me you had the opportunity to speak with the one who calls himself the Flame Emperor.”

Read the rest on ao3!

[btskismet]

Kismet (Chapter 18): A BTS Jin Imagines Fanfic

First ever fanfic. Contains some fluff and smut. Please read sequentially as it is a long story arc. Please provide feedback! My IG is btskismet.

November 7, 1944

Jun-seok was staring at a short Japanese man with a funny mustache. It was as if this man was trying to copy Adolf Hitler's tiny mustache. However, his mustache didn't seem to grow as well as Hitler's so it was half the length of the German dictator's, which made it look slightly skewed.

He expected for the Shosa (Major) to look a little more... refined. After all, he was the highest ranking officer in this district so far. He overheard that General Isumi was traveling to the capital of the country but would be back soon. So, Shosa Kimori would be calling the shots in this district for sure.

The man was smoking a tabacco as he was sitting inside what used to be a meeting room in the government building. He was looking at several papers placed on top of the table beside him.

He saw that he was looking at the military application form he filled out when he applied to be part of the Japanese Army. As the man looked at each page intently, Jun-seok shifted his weight while standing, anxiously waiting for what he had to say.

"So you know how to speak both Japanese and Korean, eh?", the man asked.

"Hai, Shosa Kimori", Jun-seok answered with a loud voice.

"Oh, I'm not Shosa Kimori. I'm Tai-i (Captain) Yuzawa. The Shosa couldn't meet you today. He went to the next town."

Jun-seok bowed really low and expressed his apologies. He felt stupid and for sure, he would be getting a beating. What a horrible mistake.

"It's alright. Stand up. I have another question for you.". Captain Yuzawa said, motioning Jun-seok to stand up straight.

"Do you know how to speak English?", the Captain asked, looking up to Jun-seok with one of his eyebrows raised.

Jun-seok hesitated. He thought he might need to lie because he might be sent to the enemy lines if he said he didn't speak it well enough, especially after what he said earlier. Would it matter if he didn't?

Before he was about to respond, the Captain raised his right hand and waved it slightly in front of his face. He was letting Jun-seok know that he didn't need to answer. "If you don't know, it's fine. The Mayor has someone in his family who can speak Japanese. It's important that you can speak both Japanese and Korean. Not all the locals speak very good English either."

Captain Yuzawa sets aside the papers and stands up to look out the window. He smoothens the creases on his pants. Jun-seok can tell that this man was stern and very detail-driven - his office was impeccably clean and all items on his desk, though minimal, were placed in a very purposeful way. Nothing was out of place.

When he faced Jun-seok, he started to speak in a very firm voice and said, "First of all, I don't agree having you here, Ittohei (first class private) Sakurai. We are having problems with some of the platoons here so if you do the job Shosa Kimori wants you to do, I think it will cause more trouble."

The Captain came up close to Jun-seok, peering into his eyes as they were of the same height. "Do you think you can speak to your fellow stubborn-minded Koreans to stop killing the populace?"

Jun-seok was flabbergasted in so many levels with the Captain's question. Yes, he heard the blatant insult to his race but what perplexed him was the fact that they were killing people and he was challenged to stop them.

"I will do my very best, Captain.", Jun-seok said as firmly as he possibly could. He knew he wasn't as confident as he would've liked, especially in front of this man who has profound disdain of his presence.

"Tch.", the Captain muttered and sat back down. "Dozo", he said and offered the seat across his table for Jun-seok to sit on. "I have a lot to share regarding your orders. Sit."

They spoke for almost an hour about what Jun-seok was ordered to do. It involved him knowing all the Korean platoon leaders and soldiers in the camp.

Lieutenant Akagi aka Gang Cheol was the one the army had most trouble with. Since he was the only commanding officer in certain remote areas of the district, he was the one who gave orders of having several locals killed on the spot. He also executed them as well. Though he was diligent in following orders from up top, if he was the lone officer with his platoon, he would exercise brutality in the most horrid way. 

“Lieutenant Akagi's platoon is fiercely loyal to him because they are all Koreans. But a few follow him because they are afraid to be beaten up.”, the Captain said with a bit of displeasure. Jun-seok thought that the Captain probably had several issues with Lt. Akagi in the past. After all, the lieutenant reported to him. He must’ve been reprimanded before in not being able to keep Lt. Akagi in line, he thought.

"We are stern and brutal if we need to be, especially to set examples to the locals. But if we just randomly kill them, then it doesn't serve our purpose here. Plus the Shosa is friends with the Mayor and he needs to have the coffee fields removed so we can build the tarmac. But he can't just order them to be done or else he destroys the friendship he has with the Mayor."

"Why is the Shosa friends with the Mayor of the town?", Jun-seok asked.

"Wouldn't you be if the man saved your life?"

The Shosa was in camp the first few days he arrived to the country and then rebel forces infiltrated it. A bullet struck the Shosa's abdomen and was bleeding heavily. The Mayor was on his way to the camp since he was summoned minutes before the fighting broke out and to take cover, he went inside the tent where the Shosa was at. He saw him and instead of running away, he dragged him to a nearby jeep and drove to the town hospital and had him treated. If he didn't do that, the Shosa would've died.

"Since then, Shosa Kimori wants to respect the Mayor and his community's needs to keep the town's resources running and for them to keep supporting us. Akagi and his platoon's antics are ruining those chances."

Jun-seok assessed how dangerous this was going to be. He knew that he would have extreme difficulty dealing with Akagi-san if he found out that Jun-seok is really Kim Man-seok's son. He had to make sure they thought of him as purely Japanese. But he won't be able to communicate with them if that's the case; they would shut him out.

"Captain, none of them must ever know that I am Kim Man-seok's son." Jun-seok said hurriedly. "Or else I'll never get close to them."

The Captain nodded in agreement. “Yes, you would have that difficulty. We have to make sure they don’t know. Did your face appear in any of the photos in the newspaper?”

Jun-seok tried hard to remember. He knew it was only photos of his father and brother that appeared in the papers. Since he was younger then, his mother made sure that he was not exposed to the media as his father and brother were recovering in the hospital.

“No. I’m sure of it”, he replied to the Captain.

“Alright then. You are to mingle with the rest of the platoon and make sure to get the others soldiers to change their mind about Akagi so they will follow him less. If Akagi sees that his soldiers are not as loyal to him, he would be less confident and then we can easily move him out of the platoon. If we did that now, his platoon will rebel against the higher officers and we will never get anywhere. Knowing them, they would kill everyone on sight. And I don’t want to lose soldiers anymore by executing them. We still have the rebel factions to deal with and I have less troops as it is.”   

Jun-seok nodded and understood his orders. He also surmised that he had to be crafty to make this work. His life depended on it too. Looking at Captain Yuzawa, he wasn’t one who would accept failure. He wouldn’t hesitate to execute Jun-seok if he failed.

“Before we assign you to the barracks to meet the platoon, you will have to report to the Jun-i (Warrant Officer) Watanabe. He handles our military equipment and you’ll be reporting to him. He is aware of your ‘other’ mission and agreed to help you.”

Jun-seok’s face lit up as soon as the Captain mentioned about the warrant officer and the latter noticed. “Yes, you are getting what you wanted, private. We are not going to let your skills go to waste. After all, you are going to work to get that tarmac built - it’s only fitting you get to work with actual aircraft.”

“Yes, sir! You can count on me, sir!”, Jun-seok said, beaming because of this news.

“You are dismissed.” 

Jun-seok stepped out of the office and was given information by the other private outside. He had to pick up supplies from the local market and meet the warrant officer there.

He couldn’t contain his happiness with the news. Finally! I’ll be able to do what I really wanted to do.

Jun-seok was pleased and he did a bit of a skip as he was walking to the market. He was smiling to himself, thinking of what it would be like to get close to an actual fighter plane. “I hope I can work on a Zero* or even the new Hayate**! That would be so cool!”, he thought with a huge smile. 

He was jostled from his thoughts of fighter planes when he reached the market. It was a busy area that morning and he was surprised that a lot of the locals were there and it was pretty noisy. He noticed that the locals didn’t seem to be too scared of the soldiers here as they were also quietly mingling with them, buying produce and food. The locals were selling their wares of vegetables, fruits, rice and fish. The smell of coffee was pretty strong as there were stalls brewing coffee and selling coffee beans. 

He came upon one stall and looked at the beans being sold. They were of good quality and they smelled wonderful. A young man talked to him in broken Japanese, asking if he wanted some. He said yes and he was given a small bag of ground coffee. When he was about to pay, the man decline. “Muryo de (free of charge)! Ok?”, the man said.

He bowed and thanked the man. As he walked away, he put the bag near his nose. The coffee smelled so good and this made Jun-seok smile. But he stopped in his tracks when he was in front of the sundries store where he was to meet Warrant Officer Watanabe.

“There she is again.”, he muttered. He was looking at the young woman he saw earlier who helped the man who was beaten up by the soldier. She was still wearing the same clothes and the nice 1940s hairstyle she had. She was smiling and talking with a Japanese officer in a very respectful yet comfortable way. he could see that the officer was smiling and acknowledging her, pleased that they were conversing.

She was bowing slightly for every comment the officer gave and though she moved respectfully, he could see that she was comfortable in her own skin. Like she was not about to be bossed around. She was very confident, even though she was acting gracefully and respectfully towards the superior officer. 

“She really is beautiful.I wonder who she is.”, he thought, observing her intently.

He started walking towards her and the officer but as he was about to approach them, she started saying goodbye to the officer.

“Gokigen'yō, Jun-i! Atode mata hanashimashou!” (Have a nice day, Officer. Talk to you later!), the lady said to the officer and waved. She didn’t look where she was going and bumped into him, which startled her. 

“Ah, gomen nasai, Yakuin (I’m sorry, officer)!”, she said loudly and bowed her head low.

Jun-seok gave a short chuckle as soon as she bowed, finding her quick change of disposition amusing. Because of this, it made her look up quizzically.

“Daijobu desu (It’s fine).”, he said softly. This made her stand up straight and bowed slight before walking away quickly. 

He looked back as she walked away, quite curious about this beautiful woman who was sparky and exciting underneath the surface. And to his surprise again, she looked back at him with that intense stare before walking away.

“I will meet you again.”, he declared in his mind before his attention was called by someone.   

 - - - to be continued - - -

*Mitsubishi A6M fighter plane - used by the Japanese army from 1940 to 1945

**Nakajima Ki-84 - a well-known Japanese fighter plane introduced in WW II in November 1944

[lemonjoonah]

Grim Love: Loss

Masterlist  | NEXT Grim Love: Memory >

Title: Grim Love: Loss Word Count: 3K+ Rating: M Genre: Reaper AU, Drama Warnings: Suicide, Character Death Pairings: Reaper!Namjoon x Reader x Yoongi Inspirations: Spring Day, Guardian: The Lonely and Great God (AKA Goblin), Norwegian Wood

Summary - Two weeks by your side... Two weeks to save you from yourself... His mission and goal conflict when it comes to your fate.

The Grim Love series is a Reaper AU, featuring each of the members as Grim Reapers. Loss is Namjoon’s story... 

AO3 Link - Here

A/N - Please pay attention to the warnings. This story took a lot out of me to write, if you are easily triggered do not read it! This is the first instalment in the series. It will probably be a couple months between each update as Under Fire is my top priority.  I hope you enjoy this sad little story of mine, and if you really want to destroy your soul might I suggest listening to Can You Hold Me (feat. Britt Nicole) by NF as you read...

POV Namjoon

You’re too young... That’s all I can think when I see you after receiving my assignment. I want nothing more than to go back to my elders and have them rewrite fate, but I already know their answer. They would simply reiterate their last words to me.

“This is our kindness, sending you.”

They had the decency to give you company for your last journey. I’ll be the only form of goodwill you will receive in the end.

In my few years I had never been assigned to someone younger than 30. You will be my first. Despite your given time frame you seem so full of life. You sit in the booth of a coffee shop, your foot shaking anxiously as you watch the door. One of the wait staff approaches you.

“He’s really late today isn’t he?” She asks taking your empty cup.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind waiting.”

I sit down across from you on the bench. You can’t see me, but I don’t like the thought of you sitting alone.

When we are given a new soul to guide, we are told nothing other than a name before appearing in front of the ill fated. I have no notion as to what your cause of death might be. You could pass on at any point during these two weeks, preventing me from straying far from your side.

I watch your eyes light up as you look to the door. I remove myself from the seat, to make room for your friend, placing myself behind you in your shadow.

“Yoongi!” You call out waving to the boy in the doorway. His slumped appearance straightens as you call his name. His lips curving into a small smile.   

“Sorry to make you wait. Can I get you a coffee?”

“I’m fine, I just finished my cup.”

He glances at his watch, falling into the seat I had just vacated. “I’m later than I thought. I’m so sorry I got side tracked at the studio.”

“Really it’s okay. Are you working on something new?”

The boy named Yoongi mumbles nervously. “I’m finally piecing the album together. It’s been tough, but I know it’s what he would have wanted.”

“I’m sure he would have loved it. When do I get to listen to it?”

“When it’s perfect, you deserve no less.” His voice is quiet,  but I can tell he truly means it. He likes you, that is beyond doubt. It will be a bitter task to tear the two of you apart.

“How have you been?” He asks tentatively.

“Good.” Your answer is short and forced. Your mouth painted with a fake smile.

“Come on don’t give me that. I know what day it is. It’s been two years, I know it still hurts.”

Your expression falls. “I’ve been getting by... I’ve been writing again. I find that helps.”

The boy reaches across to hold your hand. “I’m only a phone call away, don’t forget that okay?”

You nod with a sad smile.

Yoongi switches the conversation to lighter topics. I observe you relax back in your seat as you laugh at his stories.

An hour later, as you are putting your jacket on, you ask if he would like to join you for dinner.

“Sorry, I have plans.”

“No problem maybe another night.”

“That’s something I wanted to talk to you about actually. My plans tonight are with Seoyun.” The boy’s nervousness has returned. “We’re back together.”

I notice your eyes flash with a sadness, before recovering with a smile and a happy sentiment. “That’s great, you guys always made such a cute couple.”

This makes no sense to me. I can’t remember my own experience with love, but it’s clear that this boy cares deeply for you. Why would he date another?

...

The second you step into your apartment you make your way to a cabinet pulling out a bottle of spirits... an hour later pulling out another. The more you drink the more you weep.

You scribble today’s date off your calendar, and pull the page from your agenda. I watch as you beg for this day to be erased from history.

I wonder if my first night at your side might be your last. I can only remember flashes of my own death. Surrounded by water and struggling to breath. Watching you pass out reminds me of those scenes, only you’re drowning in your own pain.

“He’s not worth it.” The words fall from my mouth. I know you can’t hear me, but it needs to be said.

...

You spend the next several days in a haze barely interacting with the world around you. The more you fade from this life the more tangible I become. A few select objects start to react to my touch, when before my hand would pass right through them. I know this feeling well, your time is drawing closer, the bond between us growing stronger. The bond that would allow me to ferry you across the void.

You sit in bed crying clutching a well loved orange bear. Your eyes every now and then glancing to the pill bottle beside your bed. You reach out to your phone instead, calling the boy named Yoongi.

The ringing is cut short by his voicemail. Did he really just decline your call? Your shaky hand places the phone down in front of you. I know where you’re going to reach next. In a moment of panic I manage to knock the bottle away from you, spilling the pills to the the floor.

Your hand retreats, a mixture of fear and shock written on your face. I seemed to have snapped you out of your dangerous thoughts. Your tears flow again, probably in realization of what you had almost done. I sit beside you. Wanting more than anything to reach out and touch you, to have you hear my words. “It’s not your fault, this pain is not your fault.”

“It wasn’t my fault... please tell me it wasn’t my fault...” You mutter to yourself.

I tilt my head in confusion as I look at you. There was no way you could have heard me.

You pick the pills off the floor, getting on your hands and knees you lift the bed skirt. I can only assume to make sure you had collected them all. But instead finding more pills your hands pull out a journal.

Grabbing a pencil you start to write. I read over your shoulder as you spin the tale of a Prince who wears a mask of perfection. A mask that becomes more and more burdensome each day. A love interest appears by page five, a women who sees his suffering and watches as he escapes the castle. Each day he hides himself beneath a bridge to take his mask off for a few moments. One day she approaches him in his vulnerable state, begging him not to put it back on.

Your body visibly calms after you finish the passage between the two.

You run your hand down the written words as if wishing you could join the characters among the pages. You whisper to yourself again. “I miss you.”

“He’s not worth it.” I answer back.

...

Your writing continues every day although you haven’t gone back and finished the story of the Prince yet.

With each new story I watch your health improve. It gives me hope, but the bond continues to strengthen.

We reach the last night of my two week assignment. In the past there have been people who have had their fates changed. It was a rare occurrence but it happened.

If that’s the case I will be summoned back tomorrow. The thought of not seeing you again causes me pain, I have grown attached to you and your tales.

Your story tonight does nothing to ease that pain of loss.

This story centres around you and an invisible friend. The friend would come out when you were crying or sad. He would try to make you laugh with his lack of coordination, knocking over pill bottles, and wine glasses.

I think about the wine glass I broke yesterday as you continue to write.

Many people would be scared of an invisible friend who causes such mischief, but he makes you feel less alone. Why should you be afraid of him if he isn’t afraid of being around your despair. Your friend that saves you from your poor choices, holding you close and whispering in your ear when you need it most.

The irony doesn’t escape me. What would you think of your invisible friend knew the truth? Here I am the personification of death, giving you comfort. The reaper looming in your shadow, keeping you alive. But if I leave you tomorrow, will I have to return before long?

...

Tomorrow comes and goes but I stay. Another week but still no summons to go back.

One night while you are asleep I return to my elders curious of your situation.

“Her clock has been resting, but each time she is still no more than two weeks from death.”

A feeling of hope enters me. “If it can be reset there must be a way to add more time? She doesn’t need to die so soon, there is no reason for it. Please have mercy on her.”

“This is our mercy. This is our kindness, sending you.”

You need time to heal. It’s clear that my interference is resetting that timer. I will reset it as many times as I need to before this cycle stops.

...

A week later you are walking through the city when you spot a poster for a concert. Your face lights up with a smile that I haven’t seen since the day I met you. The day that you last saw Yoongi.

You take a picture of the banner and text him the photo along with the message:

...We should go! I’ll get the tickets, consider it an early birthday gift...

You wait for his reply but an hour later there’s still nothing. You buy the tickets anyway before heading home.

Two days before the concert and he has still not sent word. You text him again. He answers back quickly this time.

...I can’t make it...

I thought that his words would send you into another spiral, but instead you reach out for your journal. Continuing to write my favourite story of the Prince.

Even with her pleas he continues to wear his mask. It continues to grow heavier, to the point where the strap holding it breaks. He tries to fix it but to no avail, there’s no material strong enough to keep it in place. He hides away in his room pulling away from everyone around him, including the girl. She still goes to the bridge everyday with the hopes of seeing him, but he never appears.

Our bond has grown stronger than any other than I have had before. I sit behind you as you write my chest against your back, I can actually feel the warmth of your skin.

Despite your strength I am still not called back, my task nor my goal complete.

...

To my surprise you go to the concert. Others might think you’re alone, but I still follow in the shadows. The venue is small, allowing me to spot a familiar boy a couple rows over. His arm around another girl. I step directly in the path between you and him, wishing, hoping that I could shield you from the sight. But you see right through me, you watch him smile at her, you watch him embrace her.

You flee the concert before the second song. Your tears not even having the decency to wait until you reached your apartment.

“He’s not worth it.” I repeat over and over.

You fall into your own whispers again holing yourself as you fight back the sobs. “I miss you... Why did you leave... I’ve felt so alone the past two years... seeing that makes me miss you so much more.”

You open your journal finally finishing the story.

The Prince leaves his room in the shadows, telling no one, greeting no one. He makes his way to the bridge, but instead of hiding at the bottom he climbs to the top. Looking to the water beneath him with longing. He doesn’t see her as she waits in their usual spot. She doesn’t get the chance to call out to him before he takes his leap.

This time the story brings you no comfort, you are more distraught than ever. You pull on your coat once again heading to the door. I try to reach out for your hand feeling only the warmth as my fingers passed through yours.

You leave not even bothering to lock the door behind you.

You walk the dark streets with determination. It’s now one in the morning and I can’t think of any good reason you should be out here at this time. A bridge appears in our sights. You keep walking towards it, stopping halfway across to look over the railing.

Something about this place seems so familiar. I mimic you looking down to the rushing water. I’ve been here before. Surrounded by water, struggling to breath.

You take a step up onto the railing.

I had taken the same step on the this very railing. I remember... I remember you ... You were running... calling out my name as I fell. I’m the Prince of the story, this was where I took my leap. It was never about Yoongi. I’m the one who left you. I’m the one causing you pain.

Your other foot steps onto the railing.

“No please!” I shout out pleading with you, hoping you can hear my cry. I reach out expecting to grab only air, but my fingers firmly grasp your arm. I pull back with such force that you fall backwards. As I move in an to catch you, your head hits the opposite railing, pulling your conscious self under.

“I’m not worth it, I’m not worth your pain,” I sob while clutching you. Finally able to hold you properly for the first time in years. “I’m sorry I left you. I promise you, it wasn’t your fault.”

You must have crossed far enough into the void enough for me to push you back, but in doing so you had pulled me fully into this world. I knew it wouldn’t last long, I didn’t belong here. With my limited time I pick you up and carry you home.

POV Yoongi

My phone blares out waking me. I look to the screen hoping to see your name, but this number isn’t listed under my contacts. Who the hell calls at two in the morning? I answer ready to give them a piece of my mind.

“Get over here you idiot. She needs you.”

“Who the hell is this? What are you talking about?”

“(Y/N), she needs you. Stop ignoring her and get your ass over here.”       

“(Y/N)...” I whisper, but she had been the one ignoring me... “Is she okay?”

“You made me a promise that you would look after her. You almost lost her tonight.”

My heart stops. I remember making that promise. I remember him awkwardly asking should anything happen to him that I would look after you. I had scoffed at the idea knowing that no one could be more perfect for you than he is...was. I had never told anyone about that agreement.

“Namjoon?”

“I can’t be there for her anymore. This is my kindness, sending you.”

He hangs up the phone.

I look for her contact and hit dial, finding it odd that the phone next to the sleeping Seoyun starts vibrating at the same time. As I end the call and her phone stops as well.

I reach out and grab it, sending a text from my my own phone.

...(Y/N)...

Seoyun’s phone displays the text a second later.

“Yoongi, why are you wake?”

“Unlock this fucking phone right now.” I seethe throwing her phone back at her.

She hesitates before inputting her password. All of the messages I had sent you in the past month had gone to her. All of the messages I had received back telling me to go away, to stop texting had been from her. She had changed your contact info in my phone, The number that had called just now, the number I had ignored in the past because I didn’t recognize it... that must have been you.

“When I would leave my phone here...when I would head to the studio... did she send me anything. Did you delete any texts from her?” My voice is toeing the line of rage.

Seoyun doesn’t bother to deny it, knowing that I have caught her red handed. She nods, “But I did it for us! You were always texting her and calling her. You care about her more than me.”

“And I always will,” I growl back. “Get the fuck out, take your stuff and go back to the hell you crawled out of.”

POV Namjoon

I have receded back to the void. After taking you home my grasp on you only lasted long enough to lay you down on your bed.

Yoongi barges through the unlocked door only a few minutes later, not even bothering to knock. I watch from the shadows as he goes to you. You wake to the sound of his apologies. Comforting him as he breaks down during his confession.  

It’s at that moment that I feel the tug back to my world, my summons back. As much as I want to, I know I can’t stay, but this time I am parting with you for the right reasons.

This is my kindness, leaving you.

[pagesofangels]

What's your favorite chapter you've ever written? What fic is it from? Why do you love it? Copy and post it here!

Oooh, I have a lot of favorite scenes and chapters from all my years of fic writing. But my most recent favorite chapter is Chapter 1 from “The Thorn and Her Golden Rose”. It introduces the backstory, sets up some dynamics, and has some drunken sex. What more could you want? XD Besides I just…really love the language my co-author and I wrote in that scene, especially during the sex.

Because why not, I’m posting the entire first chapter here for anyone whose interested, especially for anyone who hasn’t heard of my Fem!Phantom writing before. Feedback appreciated! ^u^

~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: A Night of Cards and Gin

“You always let me win, Nadir.” Erika tossed her cards onto the table. “I barely know how to play poker. Either you’re letting me win, or you’re sincerely that pathetic at cards.”

“Is it such a bad wish to lighten your mood, Erika?” The Persian sighed, abandoning his own cards as well. “It is the opposite of an easy task.” Or, one could say, perhaps even impossible. Besides, he knew too well how much his friend despised to be defeated.

He was long since used to her grimness, which had only grown in the last few months – ever since she took the young new tenor under her wing. Something about him had possessed Erika, and suddenly the Mirage that stalked the opera’s halls was dedicating her days to mentoring the lad.

“I’m surprised you made time to play a few hands. You are obsessed with that boy.”

“I am not obsessed,” Erika defended herself. “He is my student, and therefore it’s my duty to take his affairs into consideration.”

Nadir shook his head. “Erika, you forbid him to engage or see any young lady. That is not something one would do if not obsessed.”

“I simply refuse to let him participate with lowlifes,” Erika shrugged, gathering up the cards. “I plan to bring him up from the status of a beggar boy to a gleaming star.”

“While that may be a kind wish, Erika, what I’m concerned about is how you plan to do that,” Nadir said. How many innocents might suffer? Besides, could he sincerely trust she saw only a student and not a perverse obsession in that boy?

“I own this building and everyone in it, dear friend,” Erika said. “The right tug on the strings, and I can make them dance however I want.” She smirked at him as she rose to put away the playing cards. “You should know that. I convinced you I was worth being spared the fate of a harem girl.”

It was certainly useless to try and explain to Erika once again the Opera Populaire did not belong to her, let alone the people in it. Once the Mirage found power, she would hold onto it with claws and teeth.

Nadir shook his head. “You were no mere harem girl, Erika. You were the most exquisite and dangerous creature I had ever met…a genius. But aside from that, I owed you for Reza’s painless demise.” The Persian felt a sting in his heart, mentioning his son.

Erika turned her back on the Persian and shut her eyes. It still hurt to remember the little boy.

________

Nadir had taken her into his home in Mazandaran, despite knowing she was a woman. And a woman not of his faith, no less. His home was the only place she could shed the disguise of a man she had adopted to procure her position as the royal family’s assassin. His son, Reza – the poor, ill child – had taken a liking to her quite quickly. Only a child desperate for a mother would cling to someone like her in that way, or so she had thought at first.

Despite her better judgement, Erika had eventually found herself bonding with Reza. Often, she found herself playing the violin at the foot of the child’s bed when he had trouble sleeping. Other times, she quietly listened as he told her personal stories, his enthusiastic interests, his hopes for a future he would never see. Once or twice, she allowed the boy to sit in her lap while she read aloud from tomes of folklore and myth.

Neither she nor Nadir had ever mentioned it, but it almost became a domestic situation between the three of them. Erika had never had a proper family unit, and Nadir’s family had been shattered with the death of his wife. It was pleasant, finding herself the honorary member of a loving family.

But nothing pleasant ever lasts.

When Reza’s health had declined into a terminal stage, Erika and Nadir both had agreed on ending his suffering. Never before had Erika killed for mercy, but it was the hardest thing she had ever done.

She had made it quick and painless, staying with the oblivious young boy until the sleeping powder took effect. The strangulation was never felt on his part, but she would be haunted by the memory of his throat under her hands forever. Nadir had walked into the room to find her how she had hoped he wouldn’t: cradling his son’s body in her arms, tears falling from under her mask.

________

Erika shook her head to regain her composure. She set the cards atop her writing desk and said: “You didn’t need to come with me. You know that. They thought me dead, and likely still do. You could’ve stayed where you weren’t an outsider.”

Slowly, Nadir closed the gap between himself and Erika, laying his hands on her slender shoulders. He always felt a little hesitant to touch her, for pushing the Mirage over her edge would not be a wise decision. Yet, he longed so deeply to comfort her.

________

Reza had become isolated after falling ill. The poor child’s world shrank into a narrow window that was never able to peek beyond their garden. Thus, he became sad. That little mind desired to laugh and learn, but it was denied that joy. The police chief’s heart had wept, helpless against his son’s cruel fate. It bled watching a pure young soul fade together with its small body, slowly slaughtered by sickness.

And when all hope had at last been lost to Nadir, and he began silently counting Reza’s final days, he’d brought Erika into their home.

He’d discovered the true gender of the Shah’s young assassin by pure accident. He had found the Angel of Death in an obscure corner of the Shah’s palace. Erika had been sewing closed a gash in her side given to her by the last target she’d been assigned to. He caught her just as she was pulling a thread of catgut through her flesh using a needle of bone. The veil that always hid her face had been pulled aside in disarray. The bloodstained tunic she wore had been pulled up enough to expose the bindings around her chest. And like that, he finally understood why the Angel never spoke in more than a whisper.

One of them would have died by her hand that night had Nadir not sworn by his blood to hold her secret. After much internal debate, the police chief decided to keep this strange creature hidden in his home until her wound healed. It was a peace offering, proof he would cause her no harm if she caused him no harm. He would be the one to help her recoup, with no need to call a physician who would not hesitate to reveal the truth to the Shah.

The first weeks in his abode she was like an injured wild animal, eager to be released from her captivity once nursed back to health. Yet, as her interactions with his son became more frequent, her disposition became more relaxed. That was when Nadir came to know Erika, and not the Angel of Death.

Deep in his heart, the Persian knew it wasn’t any medicine that granted Reza a few more months. It was her presence. She gifted him happiness once again in that innocent mind; a mother he never knew. She would entertain him and play music for him, and even speak to him for hours. Who could have ever thought Mazandaran’s most feared assassin could unveil such a gentle face?

Gradually, Nadir came to realize his soul was still capable of adoration. He was a man already turning silver at thirty-eight, and he was separated from her in age by over a decade. Yet day-by-day she began to change in his eyes. The sharpness of her tongue and her dark forbearance began to hold an otherworldly allure.

That creature who was both a monster and a woman, an assassin and an artist…he loved her. He felt it when she played her violin at the windowsill on those dry, hot evenings. He felt it when he saw her sleep on the cushions in the parlor, her mask placed aside, and her half-missing face bared to the candlelight. When he could look upon her like that and say, truly, that he found her beautiful, he knew he loved her.

And he never uttered a whisper of it.

The Angel of Death’s secret couldn’t stay hidden forever. Weeks after Reza’s funeral, Erika was brought before the Shah to confirm his suspicions. Nadir had been forced to confess what he knew, under threat of his friend being forcefully disrobed in front of the royal court. She was given two options: a torturous execution, or imprisonment as one of the Shah’s concubines. Erika selected the latter to keep herself alive until nightfall. After sunset, she and Nadir carried out the plan they’d devised in the days before her summons. Nadir was only expected to have a horse waiting in the streets for her, and to have faith she’d make it out of the palace alive. But he had supplied a second mare for himself. Together, they rode across the desert sands until well into the dawn. They fled the city, fled Persia, with no intention of looking back.

________

A sad smile crept onto his smooth, brownish pink lips. “No, Erika. I had no choice but to follow you. I was banished.” The Persian gently squeezed his old friend’s shoulders from behind. “Yet had I not been, I still would have come with you.”

Nadir was the only human being Erika allowed physical contact with her. Had it been anyone else, her – rather violent – instincts would have activated from such sudden touch. “Banished?” she asked, standing there and allowing him to keep his hands on her. “For keeping a woman in your house? Or for denying the Shah another whore?”

Nadir sighed. Always so blunt in words, was she not? “Banished for treason,” he said, as if speaking about the weather outside. “After all, I do have royal blood in me.” His words held no pride. “He may have seen me as a threat.”

Erika chuckled, slowly removing his hands from her shoulders. “Don’t be so cocky,” she said, leaving to open a bottle of gin she kept on the countertop. “You? A political threat? Unlikely.”

“Well, likely not.” A tiny smile curled Nadir’s lips. “Yet, you know the Shah…he sees threats everywhere. Even in me.”

“Yes,” Erika agreed, pouring them two small glasses of the clear alcohol. “A pity he didn’t see enough of a threat in me.”

“He was a fool not to.”

“Care to join me for a drink?”

Nadir nodded, taking up a glass. “Certainly. My gratitude, old friend.”

Erika toasted her drink to him. “My pleasure.”

The Mirage was a notorious lightweight to any who had seen her drink. She always meant to limit herself to one glass, yet…not always. But that night, with a guest in her house, she intended to remain firm with herself.

“How has Paris been treating you?” she asked, taking her first sip.

Nadir raised his glass as well before draining it quickly. He did not drink often, preferring very much to remain sharp. After all, he alone had a hope of talking the Mirage out of her madness. He felt he needed to be her neutralizer.

“Ah,” he sighed with a small smile, lowering the glass. “Like one would suspect it to treat an unknown foreigner from the East. Yet, I cannot complain.”

“Well, as I am in your debt,” Erika paused to finish off her glass, “if you experience any kind of violent prejudice, contact me. I’ll take care of it for you.” She left her glass at her side, intending on keeping it empty the rest of the night.

Nadir sighed deeply. “Erika, I hope you do remember. You gave me your word, you shall never kill again.” Perhaps it was unwise to trust the word of the Mirage…but she was his only companion in that damnable city.

“Correction, I said I would never again assassinate an innocent,” Erika said. “I do not consider a racist an innocent.” She glanced at the bottle and held it out, offering without words to refill his glass. “You seem compelled to dampen my spirits today.”

“Those people simply do not understand it, Erika. I worry not about them. I have not met any discrimination which would truly impact my life for the worse,” Nadir assured her, unwilling for anyone to die. “Please, if only you drink with me, my friend.”

With a sigh, Erika refilled her own glass and set the bottle of gin between them. She stood on one side of the counter, and he on the other. Erika sipped on her second drink while brooding.

The warmth of her first glass was already starting to bring color to her ghostly pale cheeks. Perhaps being the daughter of an alcoholic gave her a certain susceptibility, but she didn’t mind.

“So, shall I tell you of my plans to promote my student to lead tenor?”

Nadir’s jade eyes would not leave Erika’s gaze as his rough hand took hold of the bottle to refill his glass. Not a drop of the clear liquid spilled over. “I most certainly would like to hear them,” he nodded, hoping no murder was involved.

“Simple,” she said. Another quick drink. “I get Carlo fired. Nothing a little blackmail can’t do. There’s no such thing as a secret to me.” She smirked at Nadir. “No bloodshed required.”

“Very well,” Nadir said, draining another glass. “Yet, I believe you do understand he shall not give up his career without a fight.” Not many people he had met in his life were as arrogant or stubborn as the star tenor. The man rivaled the Shah in terms of entitlement.

“He can fight all he wants,” Erika said. “I’ve gathered enough to soil his reputation. And even if I’m lying right now, I could make up something believable.” She downed the rest of her drink and shook her head to dispel a cloud of intoxication. Alright, that was certainly enough. “For example, I could tell you something right now and have you guessing the rest of your life if I was being truthful.”

Well, nothing less could be expected from her of all people. He tilted his head at her words. What was she speaking about? Alcohol was slowly blurring Nadir’s mind as well, making him dizzy. “Don’t make me curious and then silence yourself, my Erika. Pray tell.”

Erika’s laugh was a hum in the back of her throat. “I could tell you I sometimes want to strangle you in your sleep.” She hoisted herself onto the counter, sitting on its edge. “You see, because we are both a little over the edge of sober, and I’m always one to blur the lines of fiction and reality…you will always wonder. Wonder if that statement was true, and always wonder why. What could you possibly do to infuriate me to the point of murder?”

Nadir sighed yet again, draining another glass of was indeed a difficult companion at times. Ha…at times?He couldn’t remember a day when she was not. The Persian drummed his fingers into the wooden countertop. “Why am I not surprised? You want me to plead, don’t you, my dear old friend? Beg you not to leave me wondering? You always desire a helpless victim to be under your thumb in one way or another, you sick woman. And yet, I could never walk away…I could never abandon you.”

“Oh, you’re so dramatic.” Erika felt more of the drink go to her head. “And you never do what I want, either,” she playfully pouted. “Maybe that’s the reason I want to kill you so much. You’re the only person who doesn’t fall for my shit.”

Nadir chuckled, alcohol slowly dissolving his usual stern, almost grim, attitude. “The pot calls the kettle black, I see.”

She laughed a little too much. “God, I hate you.”

“You may hate me, Erika, but I love you.” The smile on Nadir’s face never faltered, as if he didn’t fully realize the gravity of his words. “I have always loved you. And no vile thing you could say, no harm you could cause me, shall ever tear you away from my heart.”

Erika rolled her eyes. “You think you’re so secretive, Nadir. You know nothing about being secretive.” She moved a little closer. “I’ve known since Mazandaran. That you love me, and I hate you.” She sighed. “You would make a terrible assassin. No secrets whatsoever.”

“No one is secretive when they stand before you, Erika. No secret remains hidden from you.” Nadir murmured, taking a step closer as well. His jade eyes pierced firmly into her dark brown ones. “Then good thing remains I’m not an assassin. Neither have I ever intended to be.”

Erika grinned and reached out to touch his shoulder. “No, but you are a thief. You’ve taken far too much of my headspace than I prefer, and without my consent. It interferes with my hobbies.”

“Your thinking of me is not something I can change, Erika,” Nadir said, grasping her hand and kissing it. He sensed no danger, with the world soaked in gin around him. “Though, I must admit, I’m glad to be bothering you and pulling you away from certain things.”

“You’re wicked,” Erika smirked, gently kicking him in the leg. “How am I supposed to get anything important done with you constantly in my mind?”

“That is not a question I can answer.” Nadir raised his hand and caressed a lock of her black hair, a boldness he would never show while sober. “Perhaps it may make you less violent.”

“Or more violent, at least in other ways,” Erika said, returning the kind gesture by exploring the texture of his facial hair. His eyes had always been such a beautiful, Eastern jade. Like the sacred dragon statues of China.

Her face was rosy and her eyes – just a little bit watery. She knew she was long gone, and she was afraid to get back on her feet. If she did, the dizziness would hit her full force. For the moment, all the rest of the world melted away. It was just her and her old friend, sharing an intimate moment. As someone who envied the beauty of others, Erika never liked touching the faces of others. But with her inhibitions gone, she was fine showing this level of affection to him. At least to him.

“Can you tell me why you tolerate me, Nadir?” she asked.

Had Nadir been sober, he would have realized just how astonishing that small gesture of Erika’s was. She did nothing, only stroked his stubby beard. She never touched other people’s faces, seemingly too jealous to feel them and not tear them off. She was touching his face without tearing his skin to shreds…it was a display of gentleness in her storm-like nature. He would never have expected. One could never tell just how bitter things sometimes were between the two.

The former Daroga’s skin was also flushing red from the heat which the alcohol inspired in his blood. “I have already told you, Erika. I love you. Nothing in this world could ever possibly part me from you.”

The more she gazed at him, the more she appreciated every aspect of his natural beauty. The bridge of his nose, the sharpness of his cheeks, the curve of his jaw. All were a brushstroke in the artwork that was his person. It’s a common saying that alcohol turns the world aglow, but Erika saw it as more of a truth serum, making things just as bright as they would be without the darkness of the world.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” she asked him with a tipsy smile.

Nadir must have been a madman indeed, for he may have fallen for the Devil herself. Still, even knowing this, he abandoned all defenses and treasured the sensation. May it cost him his head or not, he couldn’t tell – nor could he care.

“No, you have not. All you’ve ever called me is a great booby.” The Persian man let out a dizzy, rumbling laugh. “And you may do it again now, when I say that under your mask lies beauty this world is too shallow to understand.”

She grinned wider. “Why can you only tell me these things when we’re both drunk?” she teased. “Can’t you tell me how much you love me at a time when I’ll remember it the next day?”

Nadir chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. “Well, my dear Erika, I certainly would if only I didn’t have to worry over being strangled for it.”

“Well, you’ve told me now,” Erika said, her arms snaking around Nadir’s shoulders, “and no one’s died yet.” Her fingers found their way into his thick mess of black hair. With a sigh, she rested her forehead against his.

The water in her eyes wasn’t from drunkenness anymore. “Damn it all, this is just cruel of you Nadir! I’ll wake up tomorrow assuming everyone on this planet wants me dead, you included. How could you make me feel so gleeful at a time I won’t be able to remember?”

“We are both drunk,” Nadir murmured, leaning down and pressing a ghostly kiss to her temple. His thumb sliding up and down her lean spine, feeling each vertebra through the skin. “That is why you have not strangled me yet.”

Nadir’s drunken smile faded as he saw the bitter tears suddenly spring from her foggy eyes. “Ah, my sweet Erika…forgive me for this. I swear to you, one day I will tell you when we both are sober. My heart will cease beating if I remain silent. Perhaps you will accept me, perhaps you will strike me down. I do not care either way. Just do not weep, my love…” His lips brushed against her eyelids, desperate to dry her tears as he squeezed her firmly to his chest.

“How often do you think you’ve told me, and neither of us remember?” Erika asked.

“Perhaps never, perhaps countless times…” Nadir sighed, his heart soaring high and sinking low at the same time.

“Well, come what may,” she said with a tearful smile, “no matter how I react come daylight, I want to remember tonight. I want us both to remember, whether we like it or not.”

Before he could answer, she softly pressed her lips against his own. Her senses were filled with everything she had adored about Persia: the lingering spices, the golden sand, the sweet waters of an oasis. He tasted like the scenery and was warm as the desert. She kept her fingers in his hair, keeping him close to her as she pulled away.

The kiss came as both a striking surprise and something completely expected in that moment. The Persian’s breathing hitched, in response to the thing he’d secretly yearned for through all those long years. She tasted so sweet, like honey and blood.

“Yes,” he breathed, “nothing matters tonight, beloved…nothing but you and I.” Pulling her into yet another passionate kiss, he eased her off the edge of the countertop.

She ran her hands down the length of his torso and softly moaned against his lips. He held her steady as she swayed on her feet, too drunk to stand on her own. Now, of course, she had to gaze up at him – which was a change that was almost comical. At least it was while drunk. The contact between them was heavenly, if a heaven should exist to compare it to.

“Do tell me, old friend,” she muttered, “just how will tonight be about us?”

Nadir wondered: in what corner of her mind did she find such false belief that she reeked of death? To Nadir, the scent of her was elegant and intoxicating. May it be tricks of drunkenness, love and desire, or may it be truth, he did not care. His dilated eyes found the gondola that gently rocked on the mirror-like lake not far away.

“Tonight, on this misty lake under blind night,” he whispered, leaning down and kissing her neck before sweeping her up into his arms, “we will become one, my friend…my love.” With a head spun by alcohol, even he became a poet.

With surprising steadiness for someone so dizzy, he carried Erika like a bride to the dock and placed her on the cushions of the small boat. He joined her, his weight bobbing the vessel as he climbed on top of her. He pulled her into a deep kiss yet again, his large hand on the back of her neck. Every tiniest fiber of his being felt on fire, desperate to be hers and to make her his.

Erika laughed as he settled himself over her. She laughed at the ones who had hurt her all those years ago, made her afraid of trusting a man with her safety and well-being. The last time a man had been over her she had been unwilling, petrified with terror as she could only let herself be violated. Now here she was, absolutely in a state of bliss, she and her partner at play together.

Erika marveled at the poetic nature of making love in the gondola. Not even she could have thought of it sober, let alone with gin in her veins. “Honestly, Nadir,” she panted between the meeting of their lips, “if this isn’t a sign of what you and I have wanted from each other…then we must be mad.”

Nadir kissed Erika’s forehead, pulling her even closer, longing more than anything to show her what it meant to love and be loved – to soar in extasy and wallow in passion. He yearned to make her forget the soul-wrecking past and surrender to their feelings. He wanted so much for her to embrace him, touch him, trust him with her body.

The Persian brushed his lips against her slender neck, tasting her skin, nibbling under her chin. “Yes… we are mad…and we have desired this from each other,” he whispered. A calloused hand slithered under her shirt, begging for closeness. For a moment, they ceased being the Daroga and the Mirage, they were nothing but a woman and a man.

She didn’t want to talk anymore. Erika pulled the pins from her hair, allowing it to fall across her shoulders. The metal pins were carelessly tossed aside, and Erika heard them quietly plunk into the black water.

A shiver ran through her as Nadir’s hand explored the skin pulled across her ribs and spine. For such a reserved man, it was a wonder he could be so effortlessly sensual. His wife had likely been the happiest woman in Persia. Not much information was known to her about the wife Nadir had lost, but she had always assumed she had been breathtaking in every sense. The fact he was now freely giving himself to someone like her…it meant the world. The universe.

With trembling fingers, she undid the buttons of her waistcoat and fearlessly bared her chest to him. She wasn’t afraid of being rejected, he had long since accepted nearly every aspect of her.

Nadir moaned at such sweet sight suddenly unveiled for his eyes alone, watching hungrily every button slip open, that lovely pale bosom spring bare. Such a contrast with her beautiful black hair now passionately loose. He caught Erika’s gaze, jade eyes glowing from passion, before leaning down and pressing light kisses to each of her breasts. Though his lips soon slithered up, tongue tracing her collarbones. He kissed her neck ardently and gently tugged on her dark locks from time to time.

The former Daroga did not even notice how his own hands tore his shirt and jacket away. Soon his scarred, warm mahogany skin was pressed against her cold naked torso. Caressing her breasts in each of his palms, he whispered: “You are so beautiful, my Erika,” and claimed her lips deeply.

Her whole body arched into his as he nipped at her neck. Their breath was being shared in the space between them, adding more silver mist to the air. The light of one-thousand candles lit Nadir’s face. The dancing shadows played across his body and the flames burned in his eyes. God, he was purely magnificent.

“As are you,” she said, and she gently pushed him back until she was able to climb into his lap, eagerly biting his neck as if she wanted to draw droplets of blood. Her hair fell over her back like a mourning curtain. Her hands traveled down his sides, coming to rest at his hips.

Nadir sat back on the cushions, gladly allowing Erika to straddle him. One arm wrapped around her waist to pull her closer. He tilted his head, allowing her to nibble on his neck. Gasping in delight, his fingers found her hair and tangled in those lush black locks only to slide down and grasp her thighs firmly.

A bit clumsily from both excitement and drink, Erika began to undo Nadir’s complicated belt buckle. His trousers were already tented out by his trapped erection. She could feel it throbbing under her palms, begging to be freed. “How…how long have you wanted to see me unclothed, Nadir?” she teased, kissing his face lovingly. “I’ve known of your affection since Mazandaran, but…how long have you wanted me?”

The tightness in Nadir’s pants was undeniable, aching and devious. He was longing to feel himself sink inside Erika’s warm moist core, to feel them two at last becoming one. “Does it matter now, my dearest? I will have you now,” the Persian purred. He returned the favor and undid her own trousers with the speed of an expert – all the while lightly biting down on her jawline.

Before long, Nadir’s pants (as well as the remainder of every scrap of their clothing) were tossed up onto the makeshift dock. Erika’s skin had gone from deathly white to rosy, making her look a bit more like a human being with a pulse. As soon as the two of them were perfectly bare, she pounced on him, nothing in her way to feeling his full coat of skin against hers. The air was crisp, but she felt the searing heat raging between his thighs.

“Or, rather, Nadir…” she whispered in his ear – as if they weren’t alone in a great cavern, “I will have you. Tonight, you’re mine.”

He could feel just how eager she was, no less than himself. “Then what are you waiting for, beloved?” Nadir whispered into her neck as he gripped her hips, bringing her entrance to the tip of his manhood. “Tonight, I am yours.”

Truth be told, she had been waiting for his permission. With it, she lowered herself onto him, finally solidifying the union they had wordlessly craved for years. She braced herself against him, reclining both of them onto the cushions as she took more of his length into her. She wasn’t afraid. She felt no shame, all she felt was the need to satisfy the two of them.

She caressed his face with the back of hand, looking boldly into his eyes as she began thrusting her hips. She opened her mouth to speak, but a small moan left it first.

“I still…hate you…you know?” She asked with a tease, her dark hair now falling over both of their faces.

Nadir allowed his back to be pressed against the cushions, a low hiss of delight leaving his throat once the grip of her womanhood sank around him. Heavens…it was such an overwhelming, blissful sensation! Their locked gazes let this burning feeling pulse with even more intimacy.

The Persian’s rough fingers brushed through her hair “And I…” he moaned faintly, replying in an equally playful tone, “still love you.” With those words, he wrapped his arm around Erika’s shoulders, pulling her close and kissing her passionately, other hand pressing on her lower back until her thrusts were forcing his entire length into her body.

Erika picked up her pace, clinging to him and panting into his neck. His fingers tugged on her hair, while hers sank into the cushions below him. Small sounds of pleasure fluttered from her throat. Friction began to build so she slowed her pace, wanting to stimulate herself a bit to make their lovemaking more comfortable. She bit down on the nape of Nadir’s neck. “Tell me how this feels for you,” it wasn’t a plea, it was a demand.

Nadir brushed his lips against her hair. With a much louder grunt, he lost control for a moment and threw his hips roughly into one of her thrusts. He groaned in pleasure when she picked up the pace afterwards. Long years had passed since he last knew such maddening bliss. He never had a woman after his wife’s death, and now he was with the one he loved like he never loved anyone before.

“You drive me insane!” he moaned. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he swiftly lifted her body and switched their positions. He laid atop her, nibbling her ear playfully before starting to thrust in a slow, torturous manner, stroking her pleasure spot with his hand while he kissed her fiercely.

She was surprised to suddenly find herself pressed against the gondola’s soft interior. Erika gave Nadir a mischievous look. He was still so full of surprises. “You bastard,” she sighed, rolling her eyes when she realized how teasingly slow he was moving inside her. He shut her complaining up with another long kiss.

She found it getting harder to breathe but wasn’t sure why. Alcohol often slowed her brain. That’s when she felt an intense shock go up her stomach and she realized Nadir’s experienced fingers had slipped between them, finding the folds between her legs and making quick work of them.

“Whatever you’re doing,” she said, biting her lower lip “…don’t stop.”

It was a stunning awareness he had. He suddenly found himself having the slightest hint of power over her for the first time since their first encounter. She always led, and he followed. This new…sensation…he beyond enjoyed it. At last, he was able to show just how much he loved and wished to spoil her.

A mischievous smile crept onto his lips, agape from groans and gasps of pleasure. Growing bolder from the approval Erika gave him, the strokes of his fingers went firmer. His thrusting became faster just for a moment. That sudden jolt in speed left her writhing in need under him when he slowed again. Licking his lips, he leaned down to kiss her neck fiercely.

She sank her fingers into the back of his neck with a desperate groan. One hand gripped his shoulder, digging into the soft flesh. She arched her hips into his thrusts, begging him to go deeper where she knew a hidden pleasure point was located.

“You…can do…better,” she panted. “I know…you can please a woman.” If she was going to submit, then she expected him to outperform her.

Nadir pressed their foreheads together, hissing when her claws dug into his back. Indeed, that was enough teasing and tormenting her. The thrusts remained slow, yet became deep and long, making sure to stab into her deep sweet spot each time. His hands had her shoulders in a vice grip, bracing himself so he could put as much force into each thrust of his hips as possible.

“Oh, God…” For a woman of no faith to call upon a deity likely meant she felt equal to one.

Erika was in a state of sublime ecstasy. For once, she wished to be no one else but herself. She wished to be nowhere else except beneath the one man she had ever longed for. His pace was perfect, his touches were perfect, his kisses were perfect, he was just…perfect. Such perfection, and he was making her whole with himself.

Erika ran her fingernails down Nadir’s scared biceps and down his back. She wanted to feel him in every crevasse of her body, even under her nails. Her jaw hung open with heavy breaths, each exhale carrying a whimper of overwhelming pleasure. She lolled her head back, shutting her eyes as she felt an orgasm mounting. “I hate…” she gasped, “I hate…that I love you.”

Nadir moaned lowly into her neck, the movements of his hips suddenly fast and firm. His length throbbed and swelled, the velvet walls of her womanhood like an addiction he couldn’t satisfy. His skin looked golden in the candlelight, glistening from sweat. It was like a dream come true. Overwhelming pleasure rippled through his nerves, boiling his blood beyond the point he could bear. The woman he loved in his arms, writhing and crying from rapture.

“I love… you…” Nadir groaned, clashing his lips on Erika’s desperately and pulling her close as he filled her burning core with his seed in another powerful movement.

The hot rush of his climax brought her to the edge of her own. She gripped his hips with her knees and rotated her hips, stimulating herself just a few more times while he was still hard. That was what she needed to at last reach her own orgasm. She broke off the kiss to take a sharp breath of air, her whole body tightening around Nadir’s member in an unbearable moment of melting bliss. When her body relaxed again, it felt weak. She hardly felt strong enough to speak.

Nadir collapsed on top of Erika, still inside her, breathing heavily, eyes closed as slowly, the Persian slipped into cloudy bliss of mind and complete limpness of body. He held his friend become lover close, lips pressed to her temple, heart beating against heart.

Erika finally released a breathless laugh, running her finger down the bridge of Nadir’s nose. “I’m hoping I won’t forget that when I’m sober.”

[mpmwrites]

Fallen: Penance

Hoh heeeeeyyyy there! I’m back with something totally new and different? @the-writing-of-a-gay-idiot maybe had a Guardian Angel Hankvin AU that I ran away with. SO here’s somehting that I probably might continue at least a little bit. Enjoy. T for language.

”Fuck.” Gavin cursed.

He never disliked work. He’d worked hard to get the move to children, and every day worked his hardest, knowing one slip could have him shifted right back to politicians, or felons, or teachers, or something equally as tedious and fruitless.

This was his slip.

He couldn’t have prevented the car accident. He'd spent the hours leading up to it shifting moments and stoplights and making the waitress at their table move a little faster with a sweet wave from Cole. He’d gotten Cole’s dad to leave work early and prevented the usual custody swap bitchfight from lasting too long. All to prevent the worst of hundreds of potential outcomes. To prevent Cole and his father from dying instantly, to give them their best chance. They were going to get hurt and he couldn’t prevent all of that. It was the worst part of his job, futilely watching as things happened he couldn't stop. There were things he just could not do. He couldn’t keep the road from icing over, couldn’t keep the truck from sliding, couldn’t make the car move slower.

Couldn’t stop Cole from hitting his head on the door panel.

Couldn’t keep the surgeon from getting high off his ass.

And now he was watching, begging, willing with all power he had to make the fucking android move faster.

Elijah Kamski’s guardian must  have been some kind of powerful to get those things created, but had never thought of the outcome. Guardians had no power over androids, not even in the slightest. He watched as the android was woken from stasis as soon as the nursing staff determined the surgeon couldn’t work. He watched as Cole was intubated while the android walked calmly through the halls.

He watched Cole die under his care, with the android still sanitizing for the procedure.

“Oh fuck.” Gavin repeated, breathless and stricken. The other three children in his care slept soundly in their beds, and as he began to cry, he sent them a silent farewell. They'd be taken from him, and there was nothing he could do.

He had to call it in, and even so, it was a painstaking few hours before the report made it through the proper channels and had someone showing up to relieve him. He had his wings tucked close to his back defensively, like a dog with its tail between his legs. He tried to focus on Hae-Joo who’s day was just beginning in South Korea as he fought his mother on getting up for school because of the exam he had that day. As he convinced Hae-Joo to eat a proper breakfast, Adra in Greece stretched for dance practice and Louis in Greenland continued to sleep.

Cole lay motionless in the morgue.

“Gavin?” The voice behind him made him flinch, sudden panic accompanying what he knew was next. “My name is Connor, I’m your relief sent by the balance department. I’ll be overseeing your charges while you’re put under review.” Spoke the other guardian. His wings were a pure white, contrasting sharply against his black suit. They made Gavin’s own mottled wings look tainted.

“Balance.” Gavin nodded, turning to his replacement. “You’re the dipshit that’s gonna take care of them?” He snapped, looking Connor up and down. “I swear to god if you hurt them I’ll rip every damn feather out of your wings one by one.” He seethed, more emotional than necessary, “Hae-Joo has a history exam today and he’s really fucking nervous even though he studied all last night. And Louis wants to ask Joanna out but he’s gonna get hurt if he does because she has a boyfriend, so make sure he’s careful and his friends are there, okay?” He was babbling, filled with his own panic amplified by what was to come for his kids. "And Arda has an audition coming up but there’s talent scouts coming and she doesn’t know, don’t let her forget to stretch before it!” He demanded, “I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some prick from balances fuck up my kid’s lives.” He promised, hands fisting.

“I assure you that they’re in good hands, Gavin, you’re expected at the balance department’s review center.”

“And you better take care of Cole’s mom and dad.” Gavin punctuated coldly, shoulder checking Connor as he left.

”They’re not your children, Gavin.” Connor spoke plainly, causing Gavin to stop in his tracks. “They have mothers and fathers, but you are nothing to them. They don’t even know you exist.” He wasn’t snarky or mean, he stated his explanation factually.

“That doesn’t fucking mean I love them any less.” Gavin breathed, low and dark sounding. There was a tense moment of quiet between them, and Connor turned to watch him go.

“Be honest with the balances reviewer. It’s… unlikely that you’ve upset the balance with one child, but you will have to pay penance for your actions.” Connor offered, his tone light in a show of goodwill. “But, honesty goes miles for them, and leniency can be shown, especially for... someone who cares for his charges as much as you do.”

-----

“Gavin, Cole Anderson was not fated to die tonight, and under your care he did. While the death of one boy will not tip the scales dramatically, a life, especially that of a child, is absolutely not negligible.” Amanda preened. Her white dress gave way to the crystalline wings of a department head, similar to those of Perkins, the head of Gavin’s own department.

These were the most ancient and experienced guardians, ones that the likes of Gavin never wanted to have cause to counsel with. “However, it is clear that your oversight on the surgeon was unintentional, and that you truly do regret these events. For that, you will be allowed to seek redemption.” She explained, summoning a view of a face familiar to Gavin. He made to speak, but she held up her hand to silence him. Gavin closed his mouth and felt small before the two superior guardians, and stared at the face of Cole’s father, his hair was graying at the temples with age, and he looked so desolate, so broken, so gone.

Amanda began speaking again over the silence of Hank Anderson’s ex wife marching up to him with matching tears on her cheeks as she screamed. Hank didn’t even react. “You will be assigned to a special case, one which will allow you to soften the damage of what you’ve done. Hank Anderson will be your only charge, and your results on his case will be indicative of your future capabilities and assignments.” Amanda explained. “Connor will oversee your former charges, as well as your work with Hank. Do not let us down again, Gavin.” She preached, and Gavin felt the weight of it all pushing down on him.

"What am I supposed to do for him?" He spoke. What else could he say?

"The same as you do for any other charge; nurture him. Keep him safe in the way you failed to do for his son."

The answer hurt. It echoed deep within him as he was returned to his work, and festered there like some kind of pestilence.

His monitor was no longer sectioned into quadrants, but soley featured Hank wailing in his car in the hospital parking lot. Some privacy, Gavin registered as Hank sobbed and his nose ran and he wiped at his face with filthy, soaked sleeves. He was in no condition to drive, but Gavin checked possible paths of action anyway. Hank was 83.7% likely to stay at the hospital, though being there wasn't going to change anything that happened. No, the only thing that would change, that could change was what Hank did from that moment forward. What Gavin helped him to do.

He didn't interfere as Hank tried his damndest to get himself together enough to go back inside, but was overtaken by another wave of sobs. The bottom of the view read out 'Primary Emotive States: Guilt, Loneliness'. With a quick 72 hour check, Gavin could see that loneliness was something like Hank's default, but the guilt was entirely on Gavin's bloodied hands. It all hit him anew, and Gavin's tears flowed while Hank broke down completely. It was too much, way too much. Hours ago Cole was happy and laughing as his dad tried to sneak chicken nuggets off his plate and now Cole was gone, and Gavin would never see his toothy smile again. He'd never see Cole finish the drawing he started of Sumo before Hank took him to eat. It wasn't fair, not for Gavin, not for the surgeon who wouldn't have to answer for Cole's death, not for Cole, and absolutely not for Hank.

Hank started the car and fear plagued Gavin. It was still dark, still icy, and Hank was still shaking all over. Gavin preset the radio to light jazz, knowing Hank didn't need the distraction of talk radio or the intensity of the heavy metal that was listed in his profile prefernces (curated by his previous guardian). The notes had Hank draw a long breath that came out shaky but calmer than before, and Gavin watched with bated breath for the entire thirty-six minute drive home. Sumo barked loudly as Hank entered, but sobered immediately when Cole wasn't with him.

The empathy of animals astounded Gavin. In all his time as a guardian, he'd always had a preference for charges with pets, because, truthfully, they made his job easier. Sumo fed off of Hank's hurt, and followed his owner with his head hung and produced a small whine every now and again as Hank ignored him. Sumo would be Gavin's first tool to help Hank through this, and he hoped he wouldn't need any more.

He was wrong, and Hank seemed to know it.

For months Gavin tried, and tried, and god fucking damnit tried as Hank spiraled, worse and worse by each passing night. Gavin pleaded with him every night. He begged Hank not to drink, to eat something, to feed Sumo, to get some sleep, and no matter what he did, it was always the same. He would get Hank's card declined at the liquor store, only for Hank to pull out cash. He'd get Hank to completely forget his wallet at home, and Hank would still go back out to medicate himself. He'd get a suspect to give Hank a good chase to exhaust him, and Hank would only drink until he passed out sooner than usual. The only way he could get Hank to eat anything healthy was when he had the takeout guy deliver a side salad with his pizza by mistake.

He was failing, and felt his failure grow exponentially with every carefully manipulated round of Russian roulette. "Stop fucking blaming yourself." Gavin demanded out loud, knowing full well Hank couldn't hear him over the click of the empty pistol barrel. "It's not your fucking fault." He cried as he eased the probability and the barrel stopped one shot short of fatality. "I did this to you." he swore as tears fell and Hank found another slug of whiskey more appealing than the next shot. "Stop." he kept begging, watching Hank stand to stumble to the bathroom, only to return and spin the barrel again. "What am I supposed to do for you?!" He screamed as Hank wavered with the revolver aimed near his temple. His hand shook enough that he dropped the weapon and conceded for the night.

Gavin's wings fluttered with frustration, and a feather or two drifted to the ground as a result of his stress. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes as Hank collapsed on the couch, Sumo dutifully coming over to lay within arm's reach. Gavin kicked out, but there was nothing for his foot to land on in the blank room where he worked, so he marched to the wall and punched it. It felt good, and Hank began snoring, so he did it again, and again, and again.

If he were human, his knuckles would have at least busted open, if his fingers themselves weren't broken form the impact. As a guardian, there was no physical evidence of his outburst. He tugged at his hair, willing himself to not give up. He couldn't, not after what he did for Cole, and Hank needed him. If Gavin hadn't watched his every move for the past few months, Hank would have killed himself already, but Gavin didn't know what to do anymore.

He laid his palm against the view in front of him and pleaded one more time " I want to help you." The sob that shuddered out of him was unbidden, but Gavin didn't hold back. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so fucking sorry, but you have to stop blaming yourself."

[tarralin]

IkesenNW Golden Week!! 10/25/18

Hey guys!

I had the pleasure of participating in @ikesennw October Golden Week. My prompt was "Scary Stories". Don't forget to follow the page, if you haven't already, so you don't miss out on the amazing art and fics of the creators.

Check the link above to see all of the amazing talent coming up this week!

I tried really hard to keep this as a one-shot but life hit like a freight train this month and so there will be a second installment at a later date.

Thank you @ikesenhell for beta reading and helpful advice!

As always, you can find all other works here.

Enjoy!

💀🍁👻🕸🕷🕸👻🍁💀

Diabolicus

~ All Hallows Eve, 1717 ~

Damn that angel!

The one called Mitsunari had spoiled yet another of Kennyo's potential contracts. As a Crossroad Demon, his job had been simple enough over the centuries; get summoned by a mortal, negotiate a deal by out talking whatever Crossroad Angel appeared, seal the deal, and deliver to the Keeper of Contracts. And Kennyo had been one of best negotiators…

Until he started showing up.

Kennyo knew his crossroad had been specifically assigned to Ishida in attempt to combat his own near perfect success rate of demon contracts. Ishida had been sighted at all of the top demon crossroads and they’ve each felt the decline in successful negotiations. With the seemingly sweet and sincere smile of his angelic calibre, who could blame the Earthlings for their second thoughts?

I can, damn it!

But… what is this? Not far to the east, Kennyo could still feel the angelic signature of his nemesis as if he'd never left. Ishida usually disappears without another thought after persuading the Earthlings from the contracts. What’s he still doing on this realm?

~*~

Never in all his years, would he have ever thought a converted nephilim be a match for a demon, or several demons…

Or so carelessly leave a sister on Earth unattended.

How… useful.

He almost couldn’t believe the stroke of luck while he gazed upon the sight. The angel Ishida had glamoured an appearance similar to the other festival goers who mingled about the All Hallows Eve celebration. Almost immediately, he'd been embraced by a woman of astounding resemblance. Same hair the color of moonlight that was partially tied back in dual braids and then left to flow freely with her movement. The lavender eyes of her brother fell dull and flat while hers seemed to glow and sparkle in the town fire’s light. The duo even shared that speck under the left eye.

A twin sister no doubt… Very useful indeed.

Ishida remained among the festivities only long enough to share a single dance with her before he returned to Heaven's realm. Kennyo couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely grinned but here he was, boasting a truly wicked visage as he pushed from the shadow covered wall while a plan snapped into place in his head. To break the angel, he'd have to break the sister and he'd do so through her dreams. To do that, however, he needed a hair of hers. But how to get the hair when demons couldn’t touch without permission?

His answer came with her smile as a new tune swelled from the musicians. Many of the villagers partnered off and danced lively to the beat given by the drum but she remained in her place against the wall, shoulders softly swaying to the music. A quick snap of the fingers had a mask glamoured in place so he'd easily be mistaken for one of the townsfolk.

“Do my eyes deceive me,” he started as he sidled up to the remaining free space of the wall at her side. “Or have the cretins truly left one as lovely as you to her own means?”

A grin blossomed across her features as she met his gaze through the mask. “Your eyes see true, traveler, but I am often left to my own means.”

“Well then, might I help alleviate that burden?” He questioned with a hand raised toward her and what he hoped was a pleasant smile, but he was so unused to portraying proper facial expressions he couldn’t be sure. He must have succeeded for she willingly accepted his hand and pulled him to the dance ring with a strength he would never thought possible from her.

The steps weren’t too complicated but, regardless of the routine, she may as well have been a professional dancer compared to the rest of the townsfolk around him. Her natural born elegance had her practically floating in his arms as if she truly were grace and holiness incarnate.

“Please forgive my boldness, but what are you?”

The question froze him mid-step, forcing disgruntled villagers to change course in hopes of avoiding a collision. “Pardon?”

Her eyes never left his and, for a moment, he wondered what she saw. Could she see the demon beneath the glamour? The plan in his mind? It was rumored Nephilim could contain a number of abilities even before converting into a full angel and only now he worried for his lack of knowledge on the being in front of him.

“You’re not mortal, I can feel that much,” her eyes and smile remained gentle and he put the worry behind him.

Ah, an Empath then. Kennyo mentally slapped himself. Of course she doesn’t have the Sight. If she did, she would have ran away shrieking by now at first glance of my true self.

“What do you think I am?”

Her lips turned down into a pout at that. “Well, I know what you're not. I’ve met Fae, Wraiths, and several other beings… but never one like you.”

“Never?” He grinned down at her in hopes of further distracting her as he continued with his original objective. He could feel her silver tresses teasing his knuckles on her back but they continued to evade his grasp.

She shook her head in response. “The few I met have been either all dark or all light but you have an odd mixture of both.”

Both? The darkness he understood, he was a demon after all. How much blood coated his hands? How many souls had he ferried into the darkness? Too much and too many for any mortal to fathom even if they had ten lifetimes to contemplate it.

How could there be any light in him?

They were moving again and she smiled up to his eyes as if she hadn’t just rendered him speechless. He was grateful his lungs had no need of air as she would have surely claimed his very breath for her own. What had this Lady Nephilim done to him?

Whatever magic she worked, it was dangerous. He'd lost count of the number of music changes before he realized he still hadn't achieved what he'd set out to do.

“Do you need a moment to rest?” he questioned once the music ended again. She simply nodded in response, causing one of her braids to tumble apart—another stroke of luck! He caught the falling curtain easily and smoothed it in place behind her ear; allowing his fingers to comb through the flowing silk as they traced the back of her arm until they finally found her own and he placed a kiss to her knuckles.

“Princess!” A young girl suddenly pounced between the pair and stole the Nephilim's hand from him. “The others are ready for stories.”

“O-okay,” startled, her lavender eyes shifted between he and the girl. “I promised the children a few scary stories once they were ready.”

Kennyo nodded with an amused grin. “Then, I leave you to your evening.”

“Thank you for the dances,” she called over her shoulder as the little girl dragged her away.

Oh, no, he thought as he swirled a strand of spun silver around his fingers. Thank you.

~*~

Kennyo glared upon the small hut she had the nerve to call a ‘shop’. The growing chill in the air apparently meant good business for her as a local healer. The sun had not even rose to midday before she had already tended to several visitors requesting treatments of different sorts. Rather it be sniffles, coughs, or burns from stoking a fire too high, the Lady Nephilim seemed to have a salve or broth for it all. She barely even stopped to eat as villager after villager came calling for aid, never turning anyone away and serving them as quickly as she could.

And she did it all with that insufferably bright smile.

In the weeks since All Hallows Eve, he had fashioned new nightmares each night and yet she still greeted the dawn with an impossible giddiness. What was it that kept her distress at bay? Was she immune to his powers? Was there some kind of angel magic at play?

It was time he investigate it himself.

No more games, Lady Nephilim.

💀🍁👻🕸🕷🕸👻🍁💀

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