#but the paperwork checks out and they DO desperately need a high king

[theoppositeofprofound]

I think I’m finally able to put into words why I hate Gil-Galad as a descendant of either Fëanor or Fingolfin (or even both). Entire pages of the early narrative are taken up by their big dick measuring contest and the narrative resolution is Finarfin getting the throne. Tolkien comes out and says “all this blood spilt, all this misery, and the best high king of the Noldor is your baby brother who stayed out of it”. Your family trees have collapsed, your deeds have turned to dust, your feuding is just a horrific historical footnote, neither of you win. The best possible thematic addendum to that is having Gil-Galad, the longest reigning High King in Exile, also be unconnected to them! He’s Orodreth’s son, he’s Lalwen’s son, he’s Finduilas, he’s just some guy. I don’t care as long as he’s so far down the line of succession as to be completely irrelevant until he drags himself into the history books. It’s what the Narrative Deserves. The righteous High King who only landed it because everyone else got killed but nevertheless had a more stable coherent reign than all his predecessors is *chefs kiss*. Ten thousand times better than Sad Murder Elf’s Secret Baby.

[saiki-k-innie]

MAEMAE!

An AU where Todoroki gets hit with a quirk which divides him into two people. The red hair Shoto is the flirty sassy half and the white one is the cold (ukwim) Todoroki (see what I did there? 'Shoto' and 'Todoroki',,,,,,,sorry). You don't know how it happened; you were literally besides him when it happened but ???

So now you gotta deal with it and watch out for the Todoroki's so Endeavor doesn't notice and skins everyone alive.

Ruth ur gonna kill me- IN A GOOD WAY i've just never written Todoroki before and this is going to be a challenge. I'm eager to do it though, I have seen so much fanart where Todoroki has been split into two people--- [also yes i see what you did there-- very clever ;) ] anyway, lets see how this goes!

I’m going to do a full on fic without headcanons because that feels more natural for this request. 

Part of a Whole

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Anime: My Hero Academia Character(s): Shoto Todoroki, Eijiro Kirishima, and Katsuki Bakugou Legend (y/n = your name): gender neutral reader, quirk not mentioned, Pro Hero AU Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: none, slight cursing, flirty Todoroki  Notes: OUT OF CHARACTER TODOROKI!!! Yeah i’ve never written him before and now writing him split in half? DAMN ITS HARD!  I’m wracking my brain trying to remember his mannerisms and behavior, then polarize it. 

I will also maybe redo Todoroki’s banner because OH MY GOD i hate it so much and its off center im going to cry but i don’t have time to fix it rn

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Endeavor is going to kill me.

You stand speechless. The battle was continuing around you, but it fell on deaf ears. Mouth hanging slightly open, you look at Todoroki. Well, Todorokis now. You blink. Nope, still two of them. 

Fuck.

Todoroki had split in two. One sported a full head of fiery red hair and looked like he was ready to take on the world. The other had beautiful white locks hiding downcast eyes. Your gaze lingered on the second Todoroki. He slowly raised his snowy head and his soft grey eyes pierced your skull. The amount of hatred that came from his eyes- you knew it wasn’t because of you, but it was enough to snap you out of your daze. 

You whip your head around and check the surroundings. Nobody had noticed, but you couldn’t spot what had caused the split. Your partners look like they have the situation handled relatively well.  They rounded up the villains, but of the ones that were caught, you didn’t think any of them did it. 

"OI, RED RIOT” you call out to your former classmate, now pro hero. When you have his attention, you continue; “SHOTO AND I NEED TO GO, LIKE RIGHT NOW. I WILL EXPLAIN LATER, CAN YOU HANDLE THIS?”

He smiles and hits his fists together, “Of course, y/n!!!! You did great, go do what you need to do!”

“Don’t think that you will get out of paperwork you extra!!!!!” you hear Dynamight yell over to you. 

Shoving the ‘rokis out of sight, you laugh and assure Bakugou that you will be doing your fair share. You take off the top layer of your costume and use it to cover the firey Todoroki’s hair and shoulders. 

“We need to get out of here,” you tell the twins quickly, but they were still getting a grip on their new forms. 

“Oh, y/n~~ so eager to leave the fight? That’s not very heroic... </3″ the redhead teases while you fix the cloak around his head. He leans closer to you, just centimeters away from your face. “So desperate to be alone with me... I guess I can make an exception...” 

You do a double-take. What. The. Hell. Was Todoroki... flirting with you??? You give the garment a rough tug to make sure it was secure and push him away. “We don’t have time for this. Let’s go.” You look past the now-pouting Todoroki over to the silver one. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.”

Brushing off his coldness, you start walking into a nearby alleyway. They both follow you, but the ice king keeps his distance. The other, you couldn’t shake if you tried. Lucky you.

“Y/n~~” the redhead savored your name like honey right off the comb. “You have such a beautiful name, I could get used to saying it more often ;)” 

You hear a scoff from behind you. Biting back laughter, you navigate the alleyways and side streets, heading for your nearby apartment. As you walk, you adjust your hero costume and tend to your wounds. The twins were miraculously unscathed. 

You feel a pair of silver eyes on you as you struggle to dress your injuries. Without a word, you feel his cold hands on you and you stop in your tracks. He doesn’t look at you once while he’s helping you with the medical supplies he carries in his hero costume. As soon as he’s finished, he started walking away. It reminded you of how he was when you first met him. Smiling, you continued on. 

What could have caused this? you think to yourself. You retrace the events of the battle in your head. There were five villains, all very powerful. Kirishima and you were dealing with two of them, but trying to keep the civilians safe at the same time. Todoroki and Bakugou had taken three of them head-on. It was so hectic, that you just had to trust your teammates that they would be okay, you had so much to do. It was when Todoroki had been split from the group that it happened. 

//

“It was a mistake to try to take down the top heroes,” you chided the villain you had subdued. “What a shame, what a shame...” When you had finished tying the villain up, you signaled Red Riot that you had finished up. You were running to help the others since you had taken your opponent down relatively easily when a flash of light caught your eye. You switched directions, remembering that Todoroki was fighting in that area last you checked. 

Avoiding the debris that was falling around you thanks to Dynamight, you quickly found the source of the light. There, behind an overturned bus shelter, were the Todorokis.  They both looked dazed but were slowly regaining consciousness. You were so taken by the situation that you forgot that you were fighting villains. Your objective immediately turned to helping them instead of the fight around you. All you could think about is what will happen to you if Endeavor finds out. 

//

Looking back, you should have assessed the situation quicker and identified the quirk user before tending to the twins. Todoroki is tough. It will take more than a strange quirk to really hurt him, but you had always been protective of him. Something in the way his eyes gleamed when he used his fire and the tone he would talk in when he was serious. Well, more serious than he was normally. He had always been there for you and you were there for him, whether he wanted you or not. 

You deduced that this was the effect of a quirk, and it should wear off soon. You estimated that the longest it could stay like this was a week. It would probably wear off in his sleep, but you were curious to see what it looked like wearing off. 

Looking back at the twins, who were now chatting with each other. Well, it was more like the redhead was doing all the talking. He had draped himself over the silver-eyed boy and was talking about a new topic every sentence. The icy boy felt your gaze on him and looked up at you. His expression may have seemed indifferent to anyone looking, but you could read his body language like a book. He was practically screaming at you to get the other off of him. You smile and laugh at the situation. He rolls his eyes and slides his foot forward and sends ice in your direction. You jump out of the way and stick out your tongue playfully. If it wasn’t for your training with him, you would have gotten hit. It was just like old times. That sure was Todoroki, albeit a lot more guarded. and, well, cold. 

The other noticed your interaction and perked up. “Hey, y/n, me and myself were talking” he nudges the other, hoping he would recognize his joke, but the pale boy just kept walking. Rolling his teal eyes, he continued, “You can call me Shoto like you usually do when we are alone, but call him Todoroki so you can address us specifically!!!” He runs up to you and gets uncomfortably close and whispers “~~ I’ve always liked how my name sounds coming out of your pretty little mouth.”

You swing your fist at him but he catches your wrist and uses your momentum to pull you closer into a hug. He lifts your chin up and says in a sultry voice, “we can’t have that, can we darling?” he tuts and was about to say something else when Todoroki separated you two and flipped his other self onto the concrete. Shoto surprisingly didn’t fight back but just hopped up onto his feet and continued talking to his twin like nothing happened. 

Eventually, you find the back entrance to your apartment building. You remove the firey boy from your arm, blocking out all of his advances as you get closer to the door. He huffs as you punch in the passcode to the door. Todoroki had been over to your apartment a million times, you paired up pretty frequently, not to mention you two were really close. You had been since high school. 

You hold the door open for the silvery twin, and as he walks past you could feel the temperature go down, but not from his quirk. This was going to be fun. 

And by fun, you meant torturous. 

[omegasmileyface]

Not in the Job Description

heres a silly lil Danny Phantom concept based entirely off a half-awake sleep-vision that made me laugh :) my subconscious brain is a genius at coming up with things that make just enough sense to be worth writing

summary: Danny's job at a local restaurant is surprisingly fulfilling, even after being crowned Ghost King. Speaking of that job, however, there are some intricacies to it that are hard to keep in mind during everyday life.

warnings: descriptions of nausea and mild sickness

words: 2180

AO3 link

===

Honestly, life was going pretty well at the moment for Danny Fenton. He wasn't even worried that it was a false security or a calm before a storm, because this kind of semi-serenity had been going on for more than a year. It was a long-term stability brought about by adaptation and putting in effort to get help and accommodation. Jazz would be proud!

Sometime at the beginning of Junior year, the Observants had chased him down and crowned him High Ghost King (much to the chagrin of both involved parties). It certainly added responsibility to Danny's plate, along with some new sensations and a series of crises (what didn't these days?), but a little political discussion with some of the more powerful ghosts ended with Danny deciding that, at least at the moment, the position didn't require him to do much more than he normally did. More ghosts would seek him out for help and he would do his best, and some "paperwork" (though there was very little paper involved and it was a lot of talking and oaths and rituals and such) happened about monthly. Otherwise, though, the Zone didn't need much more help than that, having survived off an absent King for centuries. Well, and the ambient purpose of the King as a sort of core for the Zone, but Danny didn't have to put in time or conscious effort for that.

Eventually that settled into normalcy, and Danny was back to worrying about the balance of schoolwork, self-care, and fighting. He still hadn't given up on the prospect of someday becoming an astronaut, and he was determined to have the grades for it. Don't get him wrong, he'd gotten way better about that! He'd formed a practiced, if not entirely stable, system that kept his grades at a solid B- / C+, while getting a solid 5-ish hours of sleep most nights and not bottling things up too much. It was about halfway through Junior year that he realized, with some help from his friends, that his ghosts fights were honestly pretty civil, at least against the regulars. Civil enough that he knew they had some respect for him, and was willing to risk asking for help. So a few weeks and awkward but not bad conversations later, and he had agreements with almost all his regular "foes" not to cause trouble within Amity from 11pm to 7am, 3pm on weekdays. It was more than half the day off-limits on school days, and plenty of ghosts made up for it to a degree by making themselves more common during the "permitted" hours, but it greatly increased Danny's well-being and school performance anyway. "Rivals" like Skulker and Technus had enough respect for Danny and his Lair to abide, and plenty even cared that he was taking care of himself, even between frequent sparring. Maybe a few were really just in fear of his new crown, but he chose to cautiously pretend that wasn't a possibility.

After graduation — he made Senior year with all As and Bs! — Danny's parents had encouraged him to get a part-time job over the summer. He had been interning at FentonWorks (paid! His parents might not be the most attentive but they certainly weren't unfair) since he had accidentally revealed himself a few years back, and they had been thrilled to hear that he still intended to go into NASA if possible, and had done whatever they could to help. They recommended the job because, as good as a paid scientific internship was on a resume, it would help to have a variety of activity and the opportunity to get recommendations from employers who weren't liable to nepotism. After searching local businesses, Danny found a small sandwich shop founded by a middle-aged couple who had moved in and set up shop just before the ghost attacks began. Being close to the school but not far from the commercial sector and offering small portable food (no one wants to sit down for a meal when a spirit could come crashing through the window at any moment), the place got good enough business to pay the employees a proper living wage. Better yet, they were allowed to take home unsold food! Not to mention the owners were both very kind women who held smiling conversation with employees and customers alike. Danny was more than lucky to land such a nice job, even if it meant he had to get up at 7 five days a week.

All this is to say that it wasn't as surprising as it could have been that he was having a slow and pleasant day at work.

Both the owners were out for the day on some sort of vacation, so today it was just Danny and a short teenager named Casey manning the place. Most of their orders recently had been online due to an explosion causing road work near the restaurant and it was mid-morning, leaving work slow enough that they could afford to just have the two until lunch shift started. Danny was on cashier duty today, but unless the door bell sounded, he was helping Casey in the kitchen.

"Aw, man, we're almost out of tomatoes."

"Really?" Casey looked up to the shelf Danny was inspecting and indeed saw only 3 tomatoes. "Huh, guess they didn't restock yesterday. Well, we probably shouldn't risk needing more before the day's out, do you want me to go get more?"

Danny shook his head. "Nah, I can go. I think I could use the fresh air." He said that a lot, especially as an excuse when his ghost sense went off, but that didn't mean it wasn't true. He never had liked being confined.

Casey checked the monitor to see if they'd gotten any new online orders. Since there was a grocery store just a block away, any time someone needed a quick restock they tended to just walk.

They looked up to see Danny already had his jacket on and was looking them in the eye. "Would you take over my position until I come back?"

"Of course. Ten minutes?"

With a nod and a smile, Danny was out the back door.

===

After a moment of habitually wiping down the counters, Casey went up to the register in case a customer appeared.

It was even quieter than before for a few minutes, so they busied themself with mini restocks and organization. They were in the middle of stacking some paper coffee cups when they started to feel dizzy. There had been this subtle pressure on their chest since Danny left, which they figured was anxiety for working the restaurant alone for the first time, and now it had solidified into a warm nausea that flared whenever they exhaled.

With the disinterested panic that came from having strange things happen for years, they wondered if they had missed their medication this morning. A quick glance at their phone, however, showed the notification for it checked off.

Putting the phone back away, Casey noticed the tips of their fingers were somewhat translucent. Alright then, it was definitely something to do with ghosts. Great! Just excellent. The panic was less disinterested this time.

They weren't familiar with any sort of ghost illness that made humans translucent, so they definitely needed to call someone to make sure nothing bad happened. It would be best to call the Fentons' public number so they could go over and get looked over by then. In the meantime, they should call Danny and ask him to hurry back. He shouldn't be much longer anyway.

Casey didn't even get the chance to act on their plan, however, before a short humanoid ghost appeared in the dining area. They didn't look to be up to anything, but Casey reached for the emergency ectoblaster beneath the register anyway. The nausea was getting worse, along with a new chill, and they couldn't be sure this new ghost wasn't somehow causing whatever they were going through.

The ghost looked at them with an expression that was almost desperate. "Ah! Kind human, thank you for your time." The ghost... bowed? "I am Eurusid, from the Spoken Channels. There has been a dispute which damaged public meeting grounds in the center of the Channels, and both groups refuse to allow the damage to be repaired except by the other group."

Casey's eyes narrowed. It was becoming difficult to stand with the dizziness, and if not the ghost himself, then whatever he was saying was probably a hallucination. They didn't even think about responding beyond a detached "what".

It was then that Danny re-entered the back door with the new tomatoes. Good thing, too. At least with another person there, Casey could confirm whether they were hallucinating.

===

Placing down the grocery bag and shrugging off his jacket in one motion, a skill only gained by years of laziness efficiency, Danny called toward the register. "Back!"

Once he caught sight of the teen, however, all casualness shed itself from his body and he rushed over to hold them. "Man, Casey, you feeling alright? You look really pale." The realization that their form was slightly translucent, despite the firm human heartbeat beneath, was drowned out by him finally noticing the ghost standing a few feet away. The reaction of his ghost sense had been so minor that he had ignored it.

He was surprised to see that he recognized the specter's face, marred as it may have been from worry and confusion aimed directly at Casey. "Eurusid? What's going on?"

As the ghost, still confused but unwilling to act impolitely, gathered his bearings and began to bow toward him, Danny's coworker shuddered under his hands, regaining his full attention. He thought back through the day's events for hints as to the situation, before swearing, cutting off whatever Eurusid was about to say.

Danny backed up and said, voice as clear as he could, "I recall my position."

Casey's reaction was immediate, a gasp of air like they had been kept from breathing and a return of their skin's human opacity. Danny rushed back over and put his hand on their back to steady them as their eyes narrowed and went slightly unfocused.

Figures, doesn't it? One of the many intricacies that had come up at his coronation Junior year that just hadn't come up enough to keep at the front of his mind. One of the defenses of the High Ghost Crown was the ability of the King to temporarily give their duty to someone else. As long as that person accepts, during a specified time they substitute for the King in dealing with political matters, as well as taking over as much as their ability allowed of the King's function to process the energy of the Realms.

Danny had no idea that this ability could be activated with words as vague as "take over my position", let alone that it could be used with a human. That potential had never come up during the ceremony, so for all he knew, a full ghost in his position couldn't substitute with a human. A human certainly shouldn't be able to take over any part of the energy processing, though maybe in Amity Park the average person processed enough environmental ectoplasmic energy to make it possible. Regardless of residence, though, it could not be good for Casey's body, which had no Core to properly process energy and had no human equivalent except perhaps a small emotional center in the brain, to even attempt to filter and manage some of the inherent energy of a dimension.

Their skin was still clammy and their coordination was shot. Ancients, if this is what an accidental substitution did to a human, Danny would have to word things very carefully when asking for help in the future.

"King Phantom?" Danny looked up to see that Eurusid was still floating there awkwardly. Right. He had two people here to help.

"Sorry, Eurusid. One moment, I'll be right with you." He turned back to his coworker, who looked confused and less lucid than ideal, but probably still lucid enough to realize this ghost had just called him "King Phantom". Well, he'd deal with that once it came to it. "Here, Casey, let's get you some water." He helped them walk back into the kitchen and sat them down on a bench by the back door. There was a chair in the register area, but they probably didn't want to feel exposed to the dining area like that, even with nobody but the ghost there.

Once handed the water, Casey sighed and eagerly drank from it, eyes closed. Danny rubbed his hand on their back a bit and promised to be back shortly before walking back out to meet Eurusid. Whatever he was here about was probably worth immediate attention but Danny was sure there'd be at least a solid minute of apologies on both sides before the matter was addressed. Hopefully both the Spoken Channels and Casey would be alright before the next shift came in.

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (1) || atz

The sounds of the waves crashing against shore, the white sea foam like clouds of the sky.

Salt touches your tongue as sea spray catches the light of the sun, casting a beautiful rainbow across your cheeks.

Seagulls circle in the clear blue expanse above, their cries ringing out for miles.

Rain lashes against your arms and droplets clings to your eyelashes. They resemble tears.

Lightning splits the darkness of the clouds and thunder akin to cannon shot rolls overhead, but there is no fear.

You smile wide, eyes closed, but then something in your chest weighs you down.

Suddenly, you’re yanked into the depths, water filling your nose and lungs and all at once, you cannot breathe. The weight in your chest drags you down, down, down, and no matter how hard you flail and thrash about, no matter how desperately you reach for the surface…

There is nothing but darkness.

Drip, drip, drip.

Your eyes flutter open softly, like a new butterfly’s wings. You’re lying on something wet and rough beneath your body, and to your horror, when you instinctively try to rub your eyes, your hands are bound together by a coarse, thick rope.

Right in front of you is a puddle of water and drops of water keeps falling into it, forming tiny ripples. You try to sit up as your eyes instinctively follow its path, up the grime ridden stone walls to the crack in the ceiling were rainwater seeps through. A spider lazily weaves its web in a corner and for a moment, you’re spellbound by it.

Crack!

You flail backwards at the deafening sound of a thunderclap, but your hands are tied together and you’re sent crashing to the ground painfully. Luckily, the ground is wet so the fall isn’t as painful as it could have been, but you still feel a tenderness in your hip where bare skin got dragged across uneven stone. You suck in a breath.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. Sit up again.”

Exhaling carefully, you roll onto your back, ignoring the pain of the small rocks digging into your side, and finally heave yourself up with a haphazard effort of numb limbs. Your bound ankles come into view, along with dirty, calloused bare feet. They’re tied with a thick red cord that there’s no chance you can cut through or untie, and when your mind finally screams at you the obvious, your heart stops.

“You’re in a prison.”

Your head snaps to the right, metal grills lining the tiny window in the room. To your left, the only exit secured with heavy metal bars, kept locked by three iron chains, each with a metal padlock at the end. Whoever locked you up here wanted to make sure you had no chance of escape. Before you can think any further, the sound of chattering and clanking metal wrenches you back to the present.

“-some woman down here.” The sound of heeled boots echoes down a flight of steps. There’s a soft squeak of leather and the man curses. “Damned stairs, what was that bastard Arthur thinking, holding a public execution today? Justice calls, my ass. He probably just wants to get rid some whore that heard his mouth running when he was drunk-”

“Quiet, Mannon!” Another voice, higher and hushed this time. “You never know if someone could overhear you! The governor will have you hanged!”

“Ha!” A derisive snort. To your mounting horror, their footsteps seem to be drawing nearer to your cell. “As if his men are going to lug themselves here to check on a mere prisoner. Lazing about in their offices all day, doing nothing but paperwork, afraid to get their hands dirty- Oh, she’s awake.”

Your face jerks upwards, but seconds later you flinch away from the light of the torch in the men’s hands. Slightly disoriented, you try to regain your bearings. That’s when the shorter and slightly rounded man pulls out a set of key from the pocket of his crimson uniform, moving towards your door. Your hope bubbles in your chest like a warm spring.

You watch, fascinated, as the chains slither away from the bars, landing in heaps on the floor. The man that resembles a bamboo stick draped in an ill fitting uniform steps forward and with a quick swipe of a pocket knife the ropes fall from your ankles. Warm blood rushes to your feet as if it’s the first time and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” You say gratefully, but the men simply stare at you, one unsympathetic and stone cold, the other won’t quite meet your eye. The portly one shakes his head, hand reaching down for the cord that binds your hands behind your back and tugs you to your feet carelessly.

“Don’t thank us for dragging you to the gallows, girlie.” The man snaps, unceremoniously shoving you forward. Before you fall, the other man catches you by the shoulders, steadying you. He’s warm.

“Mannon, stop doing this, alright?” His voice echoes somewhere far, far away, as if you’re underwater. You don’t register what he said.

Gallows?

“Yes, gallows, the place where people get hung, idiot.” A voice in your inner subconscious rings out, surprisingly clear even through the white noise that had filled your mind from panic. The insult manages to slap you back to your senses.

“Idiot?” You repeat to yourself under your breath, almost offended as the two guards pull you out of the cell and march you up the stairs with your hands tied behind your back. This laughingly pales in comparison to the actual trouble you are in.

Then it hits you full force.

You are walking to the gallows. Walking to your own death.

There’s a moment of serene peace for a moment, then you’re panicking, trying your best to recall what exactly has led you to this. What had you done to be deserving of the death penalty? You wrack your mind desperately for some some sort of answer, some sort of reason, but nothing comes forth except a blank, white canvas where your memories should be.

Where are your memories?

Fear floods through you like a tidal wave, rising and sweeping throughout every corner in your mind. It’s so real it’s palpable, clawing at your throat and stealing the breath from your lungs. There is nothing in your memories, no smiling parents, no first birthdays, no new pretty dresses, no favourite foods, nothing but white noise and the sound of waves crashing against shore.

How old are you? What did you eat yesterday? Why are you here?

Who are you?

You can’t even begin to fathom the answer to that one question.

“Hey, move it.” The rounder guard behind you shoves the small of your back forward, your bare feet dragging along the cobblestones of the street. The sky is dark and grey, as if weeping for all that you cannot remember and you see the townspeople peering at you and whispering to each other from tiny cracks in the doors and windows, no doubt wondering who it is unlucky enough to suffer the wrath of the official of the town. But there is not an ounce of recognition, only sympathy. Nobody cries for you, nobody tries to stop you as you take one step after another to the gallows. Nobody knows you.

You are alone.

Suddenly everything becomes so real to you. The feeling of cool rainwater as it trickles down your cheeks, the stone against your bare feet. The crisp cold air of a storm. The colour of the rain clouds. In another few minutes, you will be completely devoid of all sensation.

“I refuse.”

Like any thunderclap, the sound is deafening, it makes your eardrums ring and if your hands weren’t tied you’d clap them over your ears. But most thunderclaps don’t split buildings or cause massive screaming and mayhem.

“The official’s building!” The skinnier guard cries out in horror at the sight of the roof on one of the larger buildings on a hill collapse in on itself. There’s another ear splitting boom, and in the next second, your eyes manage to catch a glimpse of a round shape flying through the air before in plunges into the already collapsing building.

“Pirates!” You hear someone scream, his voice cracking with desperation and fright. “Pirates at the harbor-” His voice is abruptly cut off just as the clanging of a bell fills the air.

“Hurry, Philip! We need to get there!” The guard, Mannon, yanks on his partner’s arm and without a second glance back at you, they sprint down an alleyway, pulling sabers from hip sheathes.

You blink.

You’re free, just like that.

Your eyes dart around for something to free your hands with, but there’s nothing and you can hear the sounds of screaming getting ever closer. Townspeople are fleeing into buildings, doors being slammed shut, candles being extinguished, bolts drawn. From where the official’s building, you hear the click of several heeled boots pacing down the street in double time.

Between them and the pirates, you’d pick the pirates.

So with your hands bound behind your back, you dash down the same path your two captors took.

The sound of cannon fire fills your ears and there’s smoke everywhere. Your eyes sting, but you force yourself to keep moving, one foot in front of the other, one step at the time. There’s another earth shaking boom and suddenly the ground next to you explodes. You bite back the scream in your throat and continue running, you can’t afford to fall now. There are people all around you, dressed in the distinctive red coat of the law authorities here or in a motley array of tunics and breaches, both hold weapons, and both are dying.

As you move forward without looking back, there’s the sound of clashing metal, musket fire, screams of the wounded or dying. A man suddenly falls in front of you, blood pooling like a blossoming rose across the white of his undershirt, matching the vibrant red of his uniform. You leap over the corpse and turn back, staring open mouthed at his unclosing eyes, still wide in his shock, the slack muscles in his cheeks and jaw unmoving.

He’s dead.

You look up, almost instinctively. There’s a young man standing there, a long spear in hand. He’s wearing a sandy brown shirt over a white linen tunic and long, white pants that only accentuate his height tucked into knee high leather boots. His eyes, a soft brown beneath matching curls, meet yours for a split second.

Then you run.

You sprint as fast as you possibly can, feet flying over fallen swords and broken planks. You cannot stop. Through the acrid scent of smoke and gunpowder, you can finally smell it.

The sea.

In the harbor three ships are docked. One, with the emblem of a crimson rose embroidered onto its flag, has had its mainsail torn to shreds and the deck peppered with holes. Majority of its crew lie dead or unmoving, and even as you watch one of the last gun crews are blasted into the sea by a round cannonball, which shatters upon impact with the deck to form tiny, flying pieces of shrapnel that take out the gun crew beside it. The other ship, presumably a merchant vessel, is looted bare as its crew watches helplessly. Pirates heave chests of salted fish and silk cloth onto the third vessel.

The third ship is a large, ocean going vessel. Above its three sails on the mainmast flies its flag. A plain black design with the word ATEEZ in bright, bold orange, you immediately know this is the pirates’ ship. The harbor is chaos, clamoring of two sides to get the upper hand, but you can’t stop now. Taking a deep breath, you dash forward.

A blade narrowly misses your neck as you continue running with all your might, sliding under the business end of a swinging club. You barely feel the sting of your skin tearing as a stray musket ball nicks your upper arm, adrenaline pumping through your veins like a drug. You feel something warm and wet soak into the fabric of your sleeve, but like hell you’ll let that stop you now. By sheer dumb luck, you finally reach the gangplank of the pirate ship and dash up it, the wood creaking beneath your feet. They might be bleeding after that mad dash through town, but you’re here.

Now what?

Fighting is still going on all around. Pirates work in small groups to fight off boarding officers as they try to swarm the pirates. You hear a voice shout out “Fire in the hole!” over the din, and the five subsequent explosions send the boat rocking from side to side.

You’re still not safe.

Glancing around desperately, your eyes fall onto a small hatch in the main deck. Dodging the end of an ax on the path of its back swing, you leap for the trapdoor. Thank heavens you’re barefoot, because only with your toes you manage to nudge the bolt open and pull the hatch open. It’s stairs, leading down into the gloom of the storage hold, and from what you can hear, relatively quiet.

You’ll take your chances.

With a painful grunt, you take the stairs two at the time and your legs give out at the last moment. You crash to the floorboards just as the hatch closes over your head, throwing you into darkness except the faint shafts of light coming in from the cracks in the upper deck. Your ankle throbs with pain, but you don’t have time to worry about that. You frantically drag yourself behind a few barrels in the corner, out of sight of anyone coming down the steps and huddle down, praying for the ship to sail as fast as possible.

As if the gods were listening, you hear someone above deck shouting commands. “Weigh the anchor! Unfurl the sails! Wooyoung, fire the retreat flare!”

The voice is deep as the ocean and has an unmistakable air of command. You hear the pirates scrambling to carry out the orders, footsteps thudding across the deck and from the screams and splashes next to you, they are tossing the town officers overboard too. Not a second later another massive boom rocks the ship side to side, you knock your head on the barrels and a bundle of sackcloth falls onto you.

“Oww…” You mutter under your breath feeling something warm trickling down your temple, but then suddenly you hear the same, deep voice issuing commands again.

“Raise the gangplank, make way!”

There’s a sudden jerk of movement as the wind fills the sails. You gasp as you are almost thrown forward, barely regaining your balance at the last moment as the ship begins moving away from the harbor. The furious cries and jeers of the town officers fade away, replaced the sound of the sails beating in the wind and the lapping of waves against the side of the ship.

Home, your mind tells you.

As if all the fight has left you in a single moment, you slump back against the wall, the energy thrumming in your veins evaporating like steam, leaving only a sore ache in your limbs. You should really tend to the cut on your head or find some way to free your hands, but the overwhelming exhaustion crashes over you. The sackcloth is really warm, and you need to be properly rested before you can think of a plan.

“Maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a few seconds.” You tell yourself as your eyelids slide shut and your breathing slows. You sink into a deep sleep.

It feels like you’ve barely closed your eyes when a voice shakes you out of your slumber.

[border-spam]

Leech Lord - Nobody loves me like you

It was so late it felt like time itself had passed out, that void somewhere in the AM between being tired enough to fall asleep where you stand and feeling the nervous energy of dawn approaching.

The air in the Mechanicum was crisp with night chill when the E-Dev in her pocket vibrated, and Saint Ur-Machina's heart sunk in her chest as she grimaced under her welding mask. No need to check who it was, she'd known before he'd even sent the message.

The God-King was angry.

She sighed, rubbing oily hands into oilier overalls, and frowned at how pointless a gesture trying to clean them had been at all, picking bits of filth out from under her nails as she leaned against the rough wall of the hangar. Pointless maybe, but a distraction, and Seifa needed one of those right now.

The God-King was angry with himself, and that meant the people he cared about the most would take the rage.

The workfloor clock read 3:56AM where it hung from the rafter above her station, clunky ticking echoing across the empty bay. No one but her still working, and she shouldn't really have been there either considering the hour, but that had stopped feeling like it mattered a long time ago. She was always there now. Always working, like she haunted the place. Funny, she used to be so good about managing her time...

The welding mask threw a cloud of sawdust as it bounced across the floor towards the machine she'd kicked it at. She didn't even know what to call the horrible thing that loomed in front of her, some juggernaut of sleek metal she'd been ordered to run performance checks on, jagged lines illuminated by the sickly floor lamps she'd arranged around its skeleton.

Warmachines. Unnamed projects with stacks of paperwork marking them as highly classified, Troy's insignia and the same word she kept seeing over and over in confidential documentation - Uroboros. Tasted like a bad idea, reeked of poor decisions, and she'd always sniffed those out like a Skag.

What the hell did Seifa A'Rosk know about warmachines anyway? They used to build Technicals here, outriders. COV custom Cyclones for stream events, this wasn't what she signed up for, none of it was. Managing the engineering crew should never have shifted into whatever the fuck THIS was.

The steel monster in front of her bled oil silently into the sawdust, refusing to give an answer. Whatever this was, it was for Gods and Sirens, and that was a world she wasn't part of, not really. She wasn't a Saint, she was just a ghost, caught repeating the same mistakes over and over till she faded away.

The E-Dev in her pocket vibrated again, and she tapped the back of her head against the plate steel wall, trying to convince herself she wasn't ready to vomit as she squinted up towards the hangar's ceiling, lost to the night murk the lights around her couldn't quite cut through.

She figured she should answer, making him wait was just going to make this worse.

Jak-Knife had already warned her, a curt ping earlier today to "sstay ou t of his way it s bad seiifa". Ven too when he'd dropped by in the afternoon with the excuse of worrying about if she'd eaten yet and half a bag of something spicy and dripping in grease. He'd said the Cathedral staff were noose tight and whispering nervously about an incident a few hours before, something had gone wrong in a talk with visiting sponsors - with the twins. Word on the rumour mill was it had nearly turned vicious, the suits looking ready to brick themselves as they'd all but ran through the meeting room's doors after Troy had flung them open hard enough to unhinge one, and according to priests who'd been on hand? Tyreen had really embarrassed him.

Sei had winced as Ven explained, both painfully aware of this behaviour pattern and what it meant for everyone he was close to. Why the God Queen had been going out of her way to put her brother down in front of high-value clients recently was impossible to guess - no one could really get into her head or understand her decisions lately, but this wasn't the first time, and if anything it was getting worse. Little insults. Little knife-sharp jokes that weren't jokes at all, and mockeries masked behind a paper thin smile like it made them less deadly. She'd imply he was a burden, or undermine his expertise in ways so cleverly worded that the officials would have no choice but to laugh awkwardly as Troy seethed while his twin continued with negotiations.

Today she'd apparently told him to make himself actually useful and fetch their guests some drinks, right in front of servant crew and moments after he'd finished a grueling breakdown of growth projections and profit expectations for this quarter to a rapt audience. It's hard to tell if him snapping had actually surprised her or had been exactly what she wanted, but the staff who'd been there were terrified, and insisted the Vault Mother had looked genuinely shocked when the desk he threw had missed her head by barely a few inches.

He'd stalked out of the meeting and vanished into the upper cloister, and now it was the middle of the night and her E-Dev pinged for a third time.

She closed her eyes and tried to breathe out the fear coiling through her ribs in a shaky exhale. She knew exactly what was happening, it was the same as always with him. Enraged, dripping with self-loathing, and lost somewhere in that toxic mood somewhere between vicious and pitiful - looking for something to hurt, looking for a way to vent the pain as he paced like a snarling monster, muttering like he was arguing something with himself, a back and forth of accusations and desperate apologies to something no one else could see.

Tyreen couldn't eat him alive with her powers but she could do it with her words... and maybe that's what had changed. Maybe she'd realised a new way to control her twin with manipulations that left him so emasculated and damaged in confidence that he wanted to tear something he loved apart just so he could turn the hatred on himself after.

Of course it was going to be her.

The same dance every time now, the same frustrating steps that she'd memorised by this point, trying to break him out of his deadly spiral as he'd rant at rave at her, till he'd attack her somehow, then skulk into the shadows when he was done foaming at the mouth, leaving her to carry everything he'd piled onto her shoulders - the threats, the hate, the aggression, only to beg for her forgiveness the next day and be ignored.

He'd spend a week desperately apologising, showing how much he understood how pathetically wrong what he had done had been, sending ridiculous gifts to the mechanicum where he knew they'd have to be accepted under his sigil, reassure over and over in messages that it wouldn't happen again, that he'd just been under so much pressure, that he'd just snapped, that it wasn't right and she hadn't deserved it and how much her friendship mattered.

The E-Dev pinged one last time, and Seifa straightened, dusting off her overalls and adjusting the toolbelt slung around her waist.

God-King Calypso demanded a sacrifice - self harm masked as a blade he'd lash at someone he loved so it would cut him all the deeper. She'd take it, better her than someone else. She could handle him. 

She always had.

It was raining again, felt like that hadn't stopped at all this month. Pandora had wet seasons, it's just that the water never seemed to go anywhere. The acrid dust absorbed it almost as fast as it could fall, but in the city it flooded the streets as it rushed down gutters. Neon light reflected from gaudy signs in pools of colour that swam across the uneven paving stones as she slowly made her way towards the Cathedral, a waterproof canvas thrown around her shoulders protecting from the downpour.

Even at this time of night, the city was still alive. It never really stilled anymore, too many deals going down in alleys and money changing hands in clubs for it to ever actually sleep, and as she picked her way past huddled locals far too engrossed in their own business to pay her any mind, Seifa wondered when it was things had changed like this.

This place had been a shanty town, hadn't it? When she'd arrived to take over the engineering division there had been maybe one, two thousand COV followers camped around the cathedral in rickety shelters. Bandits mostly, erecting camps and functional living quarters with expertise alien to any outsider. It was a city now, fuck, it was a metropolis. She'd overseen the building of half of the major apartment systems in the inner ring around the holy quarter, so how did it still feel like it had grown of out nowhere?

Sei huffed out a steamy breath into the chill night air as the cathedral began to come into view, bass music and laughter fading as it was swallowed into the drumming of the rain on the buildings she left behind her.

She used to be so proud when she saw it, the awesome majesty of its twisted spires and jutting angles framed against the rocky outcrop that loomed behind it. Nowadays it just looked like something grotesque, a mirror of what it contained maybe. The COV was rotting from within, and everyone knew the source.

She'd been warned by friends more willing to face the harsh realities of the twin's decline that time was running out.

Tonight, tomorrow, a week from now, it didn't matter why it was going to happen, just that it would, and as much as she hated admitting it to anyone, Seifa knew she wasn't strong enough to do this much longer.

He was killing her.

Anything could set him off now, it was constant. Numbers under-performing this week, an underhanded comment from Tyreen that tipped the balance, not enough sleep, too many stims, not gaining weight, an article mocking his appearance, anything. It could have been any of them he had summoned, her, Ven, JK, the why or who was inconsequential because the desired outcome was always the same.

Troy wanted to hurt himself, not them, but he didn’t know how. The pressure would build and build till he broke down, lost logic, went wild-eyed and shaking in barely controlled rage. He hated being Troy Calypso so much there were times he wanted to tear his own skin off, he'd told her as much on nights alone and open in shared sadness, but there was no escape. It was this, or starving in a manner she couldn’t even comprehend, and when he'd asked before if maybe that would be the better option?

...She'd not known what to say. She'd failed him then, tripping over the words catching in her lungs as he desperately waited for an answer that would make sense of things, and she'd never been able to give one. Just sat next to him as they both sank deeper into the trap of their titles and the horrible reality that there was no clear way out.

He was waiting in the throne room for her, just like she'd imagined. Pacing back and forth across the dias as the city light streamed through the stained glass windows, glinting sharply off the rattling gold spines his ritual gear was decorated with as he moved.

She'd stood in silence, watching, trying to catch what he was asking himself as he'd snap a muttered retort in spite, but not able to ever make out the questions. Like an animal snared in gilded chains she figured, or something else maybe - an idol pretending to be something living? A shiver had ran through her as she waited for him to turn his frantic attention to her, quietly waiting for the blow to come. No one had even been there to greet her or open the doors to the throne room, they were ajar, the staff knowing better than to risk being in his presence when he was like this... she smirked, knowing better than her, anyway.

He'd shifted attention to her so smoothly it felt like the rant he'd been hissing to himself just continued directly into her as he'd turned, beckoning her closer with a quirk of those horrible claws. She'd bit her lip and swallowed down how much that enraged her, being summoned like a fucking dog when this man so often made clear he viewed himself as dirt in comparison to her, but months of dealing with him had tempered the reaction. Easier to go along with it, placate him, nod and let him vent out the bile till he realised how much of a fucking asshole he was and came crawling back later.

It was the same dance as usual, the exact same steps. She could feel where he was going with each shift in direction, jumping topic to topic in an attempt to place blame and becoming more enraged with each simple refute she could offer. She never made it easy, that wasn't her nature in the end, she'd calmly reply back to each accusation with logic that left him shaking harder as the fury built, like a caged predator or roid-mad Psycho desperate to attack but not getting the opening. She could play this game for hours, long enough to make sure he worked for the satisfaction, even if it left her exhausted.

She'd always been petty, after all.

He threw snarled jabs at Mechanicum performance, raised complaints that she knew weren't true, accused "concerns" about output she could disarm easily, the same as always, till suddenly he shifted.. and everything went wrong.

She could handle him with spines raised and teeth bared, she could stand unflinching as he aimed blows that he never really landed, but she hadn't been prepared for him to suddenly relax. He'd stood straight, rolling the weight of the prosthetic on a shoulder all casual and friendly like suddenly he wasn't seething under the grin his snarl melted into, and she'd felt a jolt of fear. This was something new, this was something... worse, she could feel it like electricity crackling up her spine, and for the first time that night her heart began to pick up a stuttered pounding as cool sweat beaded down her back. He took a step closer, and for just a second, there was a question flittering across the back of her mind that screamed something she couldn't ignore before it vanished into her practiced calm.

For a split second, Seifa questioned if this was Troy.

"You know, it's funny, Sei..."

She opened her mouth to warn him to stop, the atmosphere was at fever point, he was going to go too far, something in how terrified his eyes looked against he vicious curve of his smile sent panic through her chest.

"Troy" her voice cracked "Come on, Troy you know you shouldn't keep going, this is -"

He cut her off with a tsk and raise of a bladed finger, bending to lower his face closer to hers from where he towered above her.

"Rude Seifa, I was talking."

He was near enough to feel the body heat glowing from his chest, and her voice choked in her throat as the point of a talon tapped gently against her nose as if he was chiding some kid.

"Funny isn't it?" He cooed, and it wasn't.

"You used to have so much time for me, didn't you. We used to really spend time together..." the lack of his stutter was a warning she knew him too well to ignore.

"... but nowadays you're so desperate to get out of my presence that I can literally see your skin crawl while you're forced to be around me. It's happening right now Sei... ain't it."

That was a lie, and she wanted to slap his hand away from where it pointed towards her chest, push him back towards the throne behind him and tell him how stupid an attack that was. She's always had time for him, she gave him infinite time, she gave him so much of herself that she'd been crumbling, she wanted to tell him the truth of it, that how much she gave him had been killing her, but she couldn't, he didn't give her the chance.

"You've got allllll the energy in the world for your little friends though, don't you. You've got laughter and happiness to pour all over them, fill them up with, show them how much you care, but not me, not anymore. And you know, that's got me thinking recently!"

The smile was fake but the monster behind it wasn't. He may as well have been snarling, and she was fully aware he wasn't really attempting to hide that at all.

He stepped a fraction closer again, close enough for her to reach and press a warning hand against his chest as he leaned further down to meet her eyes, the veneer of his calm cracking under the weight of the now haggard, panting breathes he whistled through that vicious smile, the terror in his eyes. She didn't understand any of this, why was he so afraid when it was him pressing this onwards, why was he so panicked when the act was so calm? His skin was like fucking fire under her hand and the push she gave to try and move him back did nothing.

"Made me realise, maybe I was never your friend really - maybe I was just something you held onto like a lifeline in the storm of your shitty life choices, huh?" She felt tears rise, this wasn't fair, this was too real now, this was being aimed at his friend not his employee, but he wouldn't stop.

"Taken for a ride while you lead me on all these years. That would explain it, right? How much you got for them, how much you'll give them, when I'm just a burden to you. Or..."

His mouth was next to her ear and she wanted to beg him to stop before it was too late, before he did what she knew he was about to do. To stop before he decimated everything, but the words were caught behind the sob she refused to let spill as he drove the knife home with one last twist.

"Maybe the real problem here Seifa, is they are more than friends, hmm? Because that's your real operation method, isn't it. That's how you get what you want, everyone knows it. Maybe they met your standards, but you just never saw me as good enough to fuck."

The crack of his jaw against her fist echoed through the stone throne room for long enough to make the silence that came after all the more horrible.

She remembers that, that noise and the pain ripping through her hand in burning waves, but she doesn't really remember the rest. 

She doesn't fully remember what she saw, the flash of those glaring, monstrous eyes that burned down on them both as Troy reeled in horrified shock, cradling his face in confusion like he couldn't understand why she'd just hit him, she doesn't remember the flicker of Siren wings or the laughter that echoed somewhere in the back of her mind but made no sound.

It's a daze. Whatever he whispered pleadingly after, teary-eyed and shaking, she didn't hear.

She doesn't remember leaving and how she stormed down the Cathedral halls and into the freezing night air, doesn't remember who saw her or if clergy had been there. Doesn't remember the way she'd mindlessly picked towards the hi-rise Ven's quarters were in before realising she was walking the wrong way, or how effortlessly she'd flipped the ignition in her ship, or how prepped she'd been to jump out of Pandora's orbit soon as she hit safe distance, doesn't remember any of it.

But the pain in her hand and the look in his eyes after, she fucking remembers that.

[horrorslashergirl]

A yandere Chromeskull with a reader who grew up in a emotionally neglectful home making her really touch-starved and very accepting of the affection Jesse is offering her. 😊

I don’t know if I made him yandere, but I certainly didn’t. Sorry....

Chromeskull x Reader- Don Julio and Childish Flaws

The black Bentley stopped into the parking lot of an expensive restaurant in Jacksonville and Jesse Cromeans got out, adjusting his Versace black dress-jacket, making sure he was as presentable as ever after all looks were very important to him, the power designer clothes and a Rolex were mind-numbing and people would say he was a narcissist, but like hell would Jesse go for cheap at the corner shops.

Fuck what people think!

It was very amusing to him, because people always threw themselves at him, be it for his status, money, tattoos, or very influential power he had. So, of course, it was funny when they accused him of being a prideful egocentric jerk because the next five minutes they were on their knees sucking on his cock.

He smirked at the memories of having a piggy choke on his cock in a bathroom at a gala party.

Despite all of this, something made him think twice about his life and that had to do at the last rich party that one of his partners in business threw. It all started with discussions about wives and marriage.

Jesse rolled his eye at the word wife. He tried marriage and didn't end well...on his deceased ex-wife's part. Hearing all the men at the party talk about their pregnant wives, following weddings and what-not domestic life made his chest constrict and it wasn't the alcohol.

Talk about a middle-age crisis, but that's what got Jesse to be so thoughtful in the past month.

Everyone was getting married, creating a family, and here he was adjusting his silk tie in the black tinted window of his car.

Before his ex-wife and after, he filled that void with piggies of all type, because you don't want a woman to bicker day and night about where you've been, how was work or simply sticking her nose in your business.

It all changed when each night before he went to sleep and in the morning when he woke up, he would look at the empty side of his California king-sized bed.

Now, he should be nervous, because it wasn't his first date with you, but he wanted to make sure everything is perfect, always put on a good impression, and make sure that your ego is being rubbed on.

Maybe that's the reason why this was the fourth date with you, because all his associates, when they found out about the two of you, have said things that made Jesse feel like a king....a winner.

'She's so young. Way to go, stud!'

'She's twice your age! You lucky bastard.'

'Wish I was in your shoes, man.'

Yes, all those words made Jesse's chest puff with haughtiness.

Back to where we are...After doing a once check-over he walked to the front entrance of the restaurant where you waited for him. He could help, but swallow down as he took in your appearance; a nice black Chanel dress with silver stilettos, make-up, and hair perfectly done.

A true beauty, so much more revigorating than the silicone boosted piggies he used to fuck or kill, of course, killing was the last thing he wanted to do to you, maybe kill your mind with nerve-wracking orgasms, but that's perhaps for later.

"Hello, Jesse." You greeted him with a big smile and he returned it with a toothy grin, walking towards you, then he kissed your cheek, a slight blush on them.

'Shall we?' he signed, and you gripped his arm, the two of you step inside and into a private lounge, drawing the chair out for you to sit on.

"What a gentleman." you said with a cheeky smile.

He sat down opposite from you, and a waiter came in to give the menus, asking what you wanted to drink before you would order food. You went with a Don Julio because this time it was your turn to choose the drink.

'I had this drink just once. Crazy night.' Jesse signed as he looked through the menu. After a little time, you both ordered the same thing, then the drinks arrived and you both cheered for tonight.

"So? How's work?" you asked, taking a small sip of the strong liquor.

Jesse was a little tense because to him work had two meanings; basking in mountains of paperwork or chase down women in skimpy clothes with two twin knives.

'Could have been better.' he signed a little reluctantly, avoiding your gaze.

"I can understand that. I am still working on my novel and I kind of have a writer block. It's like a black void of nothing." you told him with a sigh, noticing that the conversation wasn't going anywhere.

This was awkward and you resumed to spin the alcohol in your glass, trying not to act offended by your date's ignorance.

Jesse cursed himself, noticing that his cold attitude wasn't making you feel any comfortable, so one of his larger hands took one of yours, rubbing your knuckles soothingly, his face into a sad furrow.

'Sorry, doll. I'm not that used to this kind of....dating.' he signed, your eyes observing him more.

Yes, in the past dates you had with him he pretty much told you about the awkwardness of formal dating to say so and you could understand. It was so much different from booty-calls and paying a hooker to jump on your dick.

You figured a man of his status was very confident, but here he was acting like a virgin high-schooler. That thought made you giggle and his gaze bore into your skull.

"Sorry." you apologized with a cough and gave him an assuring smile.

"Remember what I said on our first date? Just be natural, yourself, don't try to please me with all the gentleman act, although it's very sweet of you."

Be himself? If he was acting like his true self he would have the waitresses gutted from throat to groin, and the waiter's dick cut off for giving you a not so professional look.

'It's all new for me.' he signed with a shrug, your hand coming to grasp his, and he did what you told him, brought your hand to his lips that brushed the skin of your hand, making you close your eyes, a content sound escaping your mouth.

Jesse also learned something interesting about you in the past dates, that you were touch starved, the simplest touches of affection making you putty in his arms, from rubbing your shoulders soothingly, to holding your hand and kisses on the cheek, you always leaned on for more, but the dates always ended when things got more interesting.

He broke the loving gesture when the food arrived and you eat in silence, continuing to drink and pretty much have a good time, acting all-natural thanks to the strong drinks that went on and on.

"And like I said, my parents, were always working and the divorce didn't help that much. My grandmother used to raise me more, but she died and I pretty much had to live with the fact that affection is a luxury I cannot afford." you blabbered, taking another sip of your drink, brows furrowing at the thought.

'I can give you that luxury.' Jesse signed, moving his chair closer to you.

That caught your attention. Your past lovers always said you were way too clingy and they needed 'space', so you didn't have that much luck when it came to a stable relationship, and you weren't that desperate to resume to cheap one-night stands that would leave you even more touch-starved in the morning after.

You could feel yourself blush more as Jesse looked with intensity at you.

"Don't make empty promises." you murmured and you squeaked when a hand touched your thigh, thumb brushing your bare skin.

'I am serious. This is our fourth date and I really love your company. You're different.' he signed, and you nibbled on your bottom lip nervously.

"I know, I enjoy spending time with you, Jesse....But, I mean...I am kind of young and perhaps I don't know what I want from life and I certainly don't want to burden you with my childish attitude." you explained, feeling all of sudden more self-conscious.

'I always liked them younger. Far more exciting than the stuck-up hags my age that doesn't have a sense of humor.' he signed with a smirk, making you giggle and automatically move closer to him.

He certainly had a strange and dark sense of humor, but it was growing on you, and for a 40-year-old man he sure acted like a teenager, which was unique.

"I know I can be sometimes clingy..." you whispered, his brown eye moving from your eyes to your lips and back up.

'I certainly don't mind. I love my baby girl to be hungry for his daddy.' he signed ravenously with a cheeky grin and you slapped his shoulder lightly.

"Don't speak like that! You make it sound like I have daddy issue." you muttered, glaring at him, your faces so close to one another.

'You do, princess. But let me tell you, I won't neglect you and everything you want I can get you; clothes, jewelry, cars, luxurious vacations. Just say your price.' he signed slowly.

Maybe he was desperate, but Jesse Cromeans is never desperate, but one thing for sure is that whatever Chromeskull wants, Chromeskull gets.

You hummed in thought, then moved your lips to his ear.

"How about cuddling tonight after this dinner, and maybe watching a home movie? I do need inspiration for my book and there is this new horror movie." you whispered, your hand moving to his black-clad thigh, giving it a squeeze.

Jesse was grinning like he won the lottery, his arms coming to wrap around your waist, pulling you into his lap. You giggled at his childish self, perhaps more so than you.

You poured another two glasses of Don Julio, handing him one.

"For the start of our relationship?" you asked, raising your glass in salute as he did the same.

'For the two of us.'

[serotocin38]

TL;DWrite: How to Court a Dumb Human Bean

Mobei-Jun/Shang Qinghua

In which Shang Qinghua is kind of in love with Mobei-Jun, and misunderstands everything. You know, the typical situation. But this time, after a run-in with a strange demon girl, he’s also oblivious to the fact that he suddenly becomes incredibly attractive everyone else. And they all want him. 

2,420 words, oblivious SQH, slight pining, courting, misunderstandings, harem potential but no harem, only Moshang

High cheekbones – check. Sharp jawline – check. Piercing gaze – check. Broad shoulders – check. Ridiculous height – check. Graceful air – check. Firm and defined muscles – double check. Very powerful – check, check, and check.

Shang Qinghua sighed to himself, shaking his head ever so slightly as he reluctantly drew his gaze away from his king and went back to the pile of paperwork in front of him.

Mobei-Jun stood across the room, glaring at a group of elders who seemed to have finally cornered him and wanted to get their point across while Mobei-Jun was still willing to entertain them.

Shang Qinghua had no doubt it was to pester him about getting married again. Ever since Luo Binghe basically up and abandoned his newfound seat of power like it was the side chick he accidentally got pregnant, Mobei-Jun had taken over full-time, and as a result, Shang Qinghua found himself with a lot more paperwork to get through.

While he worked his way through several stacks a day, Shang Qinghua silently cursed Cucumber Bro for going into seclusion with his demon husband to live the life of domestic bliss while he was stuck with a desk job! And he did not even get paid for this!

The only plus side of the paperwork was that Shang Qinghua was situated across from Mobei-Jun most of the day, and he could sneak as many glances as his heart desires. And if Mobei-Jun caught him in the act, Shang Qinghua only had to tap his brush against his chin like he was thinking hard.

Take that, Cucumber Bro. You aren’t the only brilliant actor in this world!

“What’s wrong, my king?” Shang Qinghua asked when Mobei-Jun finally stormed away from the elders, and they were alone.

Mobei-Jun sat down on the throne of ice with an angry glower on his face. If it were directed at him, Shang Qinghua would be a blubbering mess of tears begging for his life. He felt a shiver run down his spine.

“Do you want to get married.”

Shang Qinghua blinked, wondering if he mishead. Then, his face flushed bright red. “My- My king? I- This- This servant couldn’t possibly be fit to marry you!”

The glower grew deeper, and now it was definitely directed at Shang Qinghua. “I meant, if you ever plan on getting married to anyone,” Mobei-Jun gritted out slowly.

Shang Qinghua was feeling faint now. Of course that was what Mobei-Jun meant! What the hell was he thinking?! He had obviously been daydreaming way too much!

“This servant wouldn’t dare!” Shang Qinghua squeaked. “My entire life is dedicated to serving my king and no one else!” He wondered if now would be a good time to get on his knees and start blubbering.

Mobei-Jun grunted and turned the glare away. “I don’t have a choice,” he said. “The elders think… that the potential candidates they chose do not interest me.”

Shang Qinghua wiped away his tears and sniffled a few times. “Do they not appeal to my king?”

“…Not interested.”

Shang Qinghua thought about the long list of demon girls from various prestigious bloodlines. “Perhaps my king’s taste is... of another gender?”

Mobei-Jun’s glare turned back to him again.

Shang Qinghua was so dead. He just asked the second most powerful demon in the world if he was gay!

He gulped, his hand trembling and dripping ink all over the page. He quickly set it down and put his hands into his lap to hide them. Mobei-Jun just studied him hard, then looked away again, saying nothing.

…so it was not a ‘no’.

Shang Qinghua cleared his throat. “Should- Should this servant let the elders know? I’m certain that there are many eligible demon males that are fit to be my king’s consort? I- I’ve heard that homosexuality is quite common among demons! I mean, Sha Hualing is-”

“Not. Interested.”

“Eh? But- But my king-” Shang Qinghua was at a loss. He almost threw his hands up in the air and tore at his hair while screaming, “THEN WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU INTO?”

He took a deep breath instead. “Perhaps my king is not interested in anything romantic or, ahem, sexual. In that case-”

“No.”

Shang Qinghua just stared blankly at him. After a few moments of silence, Mobei-Jun stared back at him.

“My king, is there anyone you’ve ever liked before? Anyone at all?”

There was a long silence. “…Yes.”

“Okay! Great!” Shang Qinghua said desperately. “What- What did they look like? Maybe we can find them again, or- or at least find someone fitting those descriptions!”

Mobei-Jun tilted his head to the side a bit, studying Shang Qinghua with narrowed eyes. “Small,” he said slowly. “Helpless. Like a baby bird.”

Shang Qinghua’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “Uh, okay. What- What color was their hair? Their eyes? Male, female? When did you last see them?”

Mobei-Jun’s lips thinned as he continued staring at Shang Qinghua. “I see them every day,” he said slowly.

Shang Qinghua felt his excitement dim slightly. Ah, so it was a current crush. Despite being by his king’s side on a daily basis, Shang Qinghua was not aware of this interest of his.

His smile wavered ever so slightly. “Do- Do they know you… feel this way towards them?”

Mobei-Jun’s eyes narrowed further, boring deep into Shang Qinghua’s soul. “…They’re not very perceptive,” he said gravely.

Despite the dull throbbing of his own heart, Shang Qinghua silently comforted Mobei-Jun. Unrequited love was not a good feeling.

“Then my king just needs to be more bold with his advances!” Shang Qinghua encouraged. “Maybe you just need to tell them you like them!”

Mobei-Jun considered it. “I… like you.”

Shang Qinghua nodded. “Just like that, my king!”

Mobei-Jun’s glare grew deeper. Then, he shook his head. “Doesn’t work.”

Shang Qinghua gave a nervous chuckle. “How would you know if you don’t try, my king? Maybe if you spend more time with them, they’ll eventually catch on.”

“More time?” Mobei-Jun asked under his breath.

“Oh, and helping them out would probably show that you care.”

Mobei-Jun nodded slowly. “I see,” he said. “This… will work?”

Shang Qinghua gave him a weak smile that he hoped was encouraging. “Unless your person is a rock, they’ll certainly realize it.”

“Okay,” Mobei-Jun said. “Then, do you… want me to help-”

“Ah!” Shang Qinghua gasped as an amulet around his neck started growing hot. He quickly pulled it out, the red stone glowing dully in his palm. “This servant is late, my king!” he said. “I need to go pick up your new cloak now!”

He gave a hurried bow before scrambling out of the room, the doors slamming shut behind him.

Mobei-Jun sighed in annoyance. “…He’s a rock.”

~~~

Shang Qinghua was running terribly late. He was supposed to go to a specialty shop to pick up a custom cloak of Mobei-Jun’s.

A few weeks ago, Mobei-Jun had dropped a huge monster in front of his desk, blood still spilling from the fresh wound and staining the furs that served as a carpet in his room.

“This is- This is a Frost Flower Tiger Seal?” Shang Qinghua gawked. “What- What does my king want me to do with it this time?” he asked.

Mobei-Jun had recently taken up the habit of hunting rare demonic monsters with pelts that could sell for a fortune or two. And he never told Shang Qinghua what he wanted him to do with them, except he showed extreme offense to Shang Qinghua’s offer of selling them.

So he had no choice but to take the rare pelts and make them into rugs and coats and scarves.

The Fost Flower Tiger Seal’s slick pelt was extremely soft and completely waterproof. It was naturally a deep blue, with black streaks in it, like a tiger’s fur. So Shang Qinghua sent the pelt to a special clothing shop to have them customize a cloak for Mobei-Jun.

However, on the way, Shang Qinghua ran into a couple of demons who were in the process of dragging a poor human girl out of her hut.

“What a pretty little thing,” one of them leered. “Why don’t you come with us and keep us company?”

“Let me go!” she screamed, kicking and thrashing.

“Hey!” Shang Qinghua shouted, glad he brought his sword. It had been a while since he drew it, and he had never been particularly good at fighting in the first place, and he was definitely rusty. He just hoped the threat would scare away the demons.

The other demon sniggered. “Look, another tiny human,” he said. “Let’s take them both.”

Shang Qinghua swung his sword, the weight throwing him off a little bit. He quickly regained his balance, his heart thumping hard in his chest.

If he called out like last time, would Mobei-Jun show up?

Suddenly, both demons’ eyes were glued to Shang Qinghua’s sword. Then, with a mess of senseless apologies, they dropped the girl and ran off faster than Shang Qinghua could figure out what made them run.

It was only afterwards that Shang Qinghua remembered the tassel tied to the end of his sword with Mobei-Jun’s seal on it. Regardless, he gratefully sheathed his sword and rushed to the girl’s side.

“Hey, you really shouldn’t hang around here alone,” Shang Qinghua said, helping her up with a sigh.

The girl huffed. “I had it covered, you know,” she said. She reached into her sleeve and pulled out three needles, obviously coated with a deadly poison.

“Ah,” Shang Qinghua said.

“Thank you anyway,” she said. She looked him up and down. “What’s a human like you doing in the Demon Realm?”

“I could say the same for you.”

“Not human,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “And I’m a travelling merchant. Anyway, I suppose I should repay you somehow. What do you want?” she asked. “I’ve got strength potions, protection charms, cultivation enhancers.”

She seemed to have found all of Shang Qinghua’s weaknesses with just a glance. Each suggestion felt like a small stab at all his lacking points.

“Heh, no need,” Shang Qinghua said, remembering he was on a tight schedule. “I need to get going.”

The girl tilted her head to the side. “Where are you headed? I have a pill that can prolong your stamina. Most use it for sex purposes, but you can use it to travel too,” she said casually, ignoring the way Shang Qinghua coughed lightly.

“Just west,” he said vaguely. “I really should go.”

Finally, the girl sighed. “Fine, fine. I won’t keep you. Here, take some water, at least. You look like you could use it.”

She disappeared into her hut briefly and came back with a small bottle. “It’s a bottle of Replenishing Water,” she said. “As long as you’re thirsty, it will continue to produce water. And it doesn’t take up much space, so it’s perfect for travel.”

Shang Qinghua glanced at the sun. He took the bottle. “Much thanks,” he said quickly. He left before the girl could try pushing any more of her wares onto him.

The Replenishing Water did seem pretty useful though. Shang Qinghua took several sips from the tiny bottle, but every single time, more cool water poured from it. But if Shang Qinghua just tipped the bottle over dry ground, nothing came out.

He briefly wondered who that girl was exactly. But he did not think on it too much because he managed to catch the store just before closing.

“Wait!” he called as the store owner, an elderly demon lady came out to lock up.

“There you are!” she snapped, shoving the door open again.

Shang Qinghua followed her inside, apologizing over and over again for being so late. She grumbled as she went and grabbed the cloak, all wrapped up and boxed nicely. He reached for the money pouch in his robes when suddenly, the elderly demon lady grabbed his wrist.

“Come here,” she commanded.

“Eh?” Shang Qinghua was pulled downwards roughly. She stared at him with her old eyes. “Is- Is everything alright, Madame?”

Suddenly, the usually sour expression on her face softened. “I’ve never noticed before, but… you look like my late husband!”

“Wh-What? You- You have to be mistaken. Madame, I am merely a human servant for my king! How could I-”

“I’m not mistaken!” she exclaimed. “You look exactly like him!” Suddenly, she rushed forward, and Shang Qinghua stepped back, running out of the shop as quickly as he could. “Husband, come back! Your Gui-er has been waiting for you!”

Shang Qinghua did not look back. He ran for a few miles before he collapsed on the side of the road, absolutely exhausted. The sun had nearly set, and he was still a far way from the palace. He had really hoped he could avoid travelling by sword.

But before anything else, Shang Qinghua spent a few minutes chugging from the bottle of Replenishing Water. He felt much better after sitting for a bit and making sure the demon lady was not chasing him.

By then, it was completely dark and walking was no longer an option.

Still, Shang Qinghua was reluctant about riding his sword. He had not been confident about mounting his sword since rescuing Mobei-Jun and nearly killing both of them with his skills.

“Ah, my king,” Shang Qinghua sighed aloud.

“What is it?”

Shang Qinghua wished he could say he did not scream like a little girl and drop the box holding the new cloak.

“My- My king!” Shang Qinghua gasped, his heart doing a rapid staccato dance in his chest. “What- What are you doing here?”

“You called,” Mobei-Jun said sternly, like it explained everything.

“This- This servant was just heading back.”

“It’s late already,” Mobei-Jun said. He picked up the box and opened it. He took out the Frost Flower Tiger Seal cloak and inspected it.

“Does my king approve?” Shang Qinghua asked nervously.

Mobei-Jun rubbed the thick cloak between his fingers. “It’s good,” he rumbled. Then, he draped the heavy cloak over Shang Qinghua’s shoulders and clasped it in front.

“My- My king?”

“Let’s go,” Mobei-Jun said, pulling him in by his waist and opening a portal.

They reappeared in the throne room, and Mobei-Jun led them into the adjoining room that served as his and Shang Qinghua’s office.

Shang Qinghua started to take off the cloak, but a sharp glare from Mobei-Jun stopped him. He left it on instead.

Liked the idea at first. I just felt it would take a longer than a brief one-shot, so I kinda procrastinated and lost interest. Will I come back to this one? Not likely.

[abject-chaos]

I’ve decided to use chapter titles for now so this chapter is called Chapter 2: Bad Faith

@silvermun This is once again sooner than I anticipated, but enjoy! I’ll reveal the story title in the next chapter! HYPE!!!

As soon as the trio reached the castle a servant was sent to fetch Merlina. As the boy scuttled off Sonic walked briskly through the winding corridor that led to his private study. During his year as king, the spacious yet cluttered office had fallen into disuse as Sonic preferred to perform his duties among the court rather than sit cooped up in a room all day, leading to every inch of the office being covered in a fine layer of dust. Cobwebs clustered in every corner and the lone oak desk at the back of the room was piled high with old paperwork and books. Sonic rushed into the room, disturbing the once-settled dust particles, sending them flying through the musty air causing a dull cloud to form. He took a seat behind the desk, his face nearly blocked from view by the sturdy wall of volumes in front of him.

Sonic looked contemplative as he glared at the spine of the topmost tome: The Dictionary. “Not that I’m not thrilled you’re here-” he began, clearly addressing Shadow with his words rather than his eyes.

“Oh, this should be good,” Shadow grumbled, crossing his arms stiffly across his chest.

“But why and how did you get here exactly?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that I fell through a portal and ended up face down in a field somewhere.”

Sonic snorted softly earning an irritated grunt from Shadow and a brief chuckle from Lance.

Before Sonic could ask any more fruitless questions, Merlina appeared in the doorway sporting a nervous look on her face. “You have need of me, Sire?” she asked, uncharacteristically timid. She seemed to notice Shadow just then and eyed him warily for an instant. Sonic noticed this and nodded sagely, motioning for her to come in. She did so and closed the door behind her.

“Is there something you want to say first?” he asked, fully aware of how uncomfortable she was in Shadow’s presence.

Lancelot and Shadow eyed her curiously. Merlina sighed, knowing she couldn’t avoid the conversation. Lancelot leaned against the wall behind Sonic as the witch began to speak, feeling suddenly very protective of the king. Ever since Merlina’s attack on the kingdom, he was taken to avoiding her whenever he could. Sonic, however, did not share his sentiment. “I’m sure you’re all wondering the same thing,” she said, glancing at Shadow then returning her gaze to her hands as she took a seat on the untended leather couch at the lefthand side of the room. “I’m afraid I have some answers.”

“What do you mean you are ‘afraid’?” Lancelot spoke before anybody else had the chance to comment on the wording.

Melina sighed, straightening her posture and looking directly into the king’s eyes. “I had a dream last night… a vision.” At the unexpected news, Sonic sat forward in his chair and moved the pile of books off the desk so that he could see the witch more clearly. Lancelot pushed off from the wall and uncrossed his arms, a rare moment of vulnerable curiosity. “Destruction, ruin, the kingdom razed to the ground. Then I heard a voice telling me that it could be avoided.”

“A voice?” Shadow repeated.

“Yes.”

“And who was the voice? Who spoke to you?” Lancelot inquired.

Merlina paused briefly, gathering her thoughts. “Kilgharrah. An ancient dragon my grandfather spoke of. He said in order to stop the assured destruction of Camelot we would need a saviour from another realm.”

“Okay, but why me?”

“Why not you? You are the ultimate life form.”

“How did you-”

“I have transdimensional knowledge across space and time. I know all who live, all who have lived and all who will ever live. And I know you have the capability to end this senseless destruction.” Shadow seemed caught off-guard for a moment before he schooled his features to remain neutral and unphased. “Sire, I admit I brought him here-” Merlina declared, turning back to address Sonic, “-but I only want what is best for the kingdom. The fact of the matter is that I should have sent you back to your realm sooner for if I had this may have been avoided. But the prophecy is already in motion and because that is so we must act. Please, Sire.”

Sonic was speechless for a moment, though he forcefully shook himself out of his daze and looked at Shadow. The other was turned away from him, glaring at the ground. Sonic ventured to wonder if he was okay with this. “You are excused, Merlina,” he said, still focused on the other standing a little ways from the corner. The witch nodded once then turned to exit, leaving the trio alone. “You too, Lance.”

Lancelot looked like he wanted to argue, but he merely bowed his head and followed Merlina out the door.

Sonic waited until he was certain the others were out of earshot before he spoke. “Are you okay with this?” No answer. “Shadow?” Still no answer. Sonic opened his mouth to ask for a third time before a soft voice stopped him.

“Why did you stay?”

Sonic was confused. “What?”

“If you knew you could go back why did you stay?” Shadow asked, his voice dangerously slow.

“How could I just leave?” Sonic said unhesitatingly, though his voice held a nervous undertone. “These people needed me. Was I just supposed to desert them without a king?”

“Yes, Sonic!” The sudden outburst caught Sonic by surprise and he jumped. “You don’t belong here. How do you not get that? You left behind everyone who ever cared about you to prance around some fairytale land and pretend to be a king? If I hadn’t shown up out of the blue would I have ever seen you again-”

“Yes! Yes, I would have come back-” Sonic desperately proclaimed.

“When? When would you have come back?” A crazed, exasperated laugh passed Shadow’s lips. “You’ve been here for a year. If the thought hadn’t crossed your mind by now it never would have and you know that!”

“That’s not true!”

“Do you even care about the people back home that miss you?” Shadow said and Sonic halted in his speech. “About Tails? About Amy, Knuckles- do you care about me?! I missed you, I was worried, and with no way to contact you for all I knew you could have been dead!”

“I’m not dead, Shad! It was only a week-”

“Not for you! You had no idea that time wouldn’t line up the same way. You had no idea that you didn’t leave us for over a year!” Having gotten that out of his system, crimson eyes glistening with unshed tears, Shadow tried to catch his breath. Sonic could see now how much he hurt his friends, how much he hurt Shadow.

“Shadow, I’m sorry,” Sonic said, reaching out to touch his friend’s shoulder but Shadow simply moved away. A look of betrayal crossed over his face corresponding with the painful sadness that laced the king’s eyes.

“No, I don’t think you are.” Shadow pushed past the smallest feeling of apprehension before he bolted for the door.

“Shadow, wait!”

Sonic knew he could have caught up to him, but he let him go. There was no use going after him when he was like this. It would only push him further away, but as night crawled closer and closer and the sun began to set he started to grow worried.

“I’m getting worried,” Sonic said truthfully as he paced across the width of the throne room, Lancelot and Merlina sitting idly on the dais, having watched the king’s constant marching for over an hour. Merlina was leaning lazily against her palm, animating small images out of the fire in the lit braziers while Lance sat respectfully upright. “I know he doesn’t want me around right now and he can take care of himself, but he doesn’t know where he is or where he’s going and-”

“We understand, Sonic, but if he’s anything like you described he’ll be just fine,” Lancelot reassured, still looking slightly concerned; for his counterpart or for the king Sonic didn’t know.

Sonic stopped his obsessive strides to consider the knight’s words, though the moment was short-lived as he only picked up his pace, much to the annoyance of his company. “Listen, it’s been hours and he hasn’t come back. I know he doesn’t need my help, but I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right, that he’s in some sort of trouble.” He paused once again, the gears in his head turning. Lancelot leaned forward, eager to hear the king’s next words. “I’m going to look for him.”

“What?” Merlina uttered in surprise, the fire puppets dissipating as she straightened.

“He might be in danger and I’m not going to leave him out there alone. I have to go, if only just to check on him.”

“Sire, wait-”

“You can’t stop me, Lance,” Sonic exclaimed as he began marching to the wide mahogany doors of the throne room.

“I wasn’t trying to,” Lance said as he grabbed a hold of Sonic’s shoulder. “I’m coming with you.” The king smiled warmly at the gesture and placed his own gloved hand on the knight’s gauntlet.

“Me too,” Merlina declared, causing the pair to look at her as she strode towards them. “If your instincts hold any merit you might need someone with magic.”

With the help of his capable friends, the king of Camelot began his search for Shadow under the cover of moonlight.

[thethousandyearwitch]

Divorce is worse the second time around

A shitpost fic you didn’t want and I didn’t want but my brain really did.

-----

It is a pleasant day for the Zodiacs, and they are getting ready to wrap things up for the day, blissfully unaware that they are going to be unwilling witnesses to Pariston Hills most recent breakdown in reaction to his impeding divorce.

------

AO3 Link

The day had gone by peacefully for Cheadle Yorkshire. She had finished a lot of stuffy paperwork for the zodiacs, brought a satisfying conclusion to arguments dividing the group, Netero was nowhere in sight to dump more work on them, and now she was preparing to wrap the meeting up, double checking her days schedule for any missed meeting points, blissfully sipping on some black tea.

“Well, I don’t see any more need for discussion, and I am sure we all have better matters to attend to, so why don’t we conclude the meeting for today?”

“Sounds like you specifically want to wrap it up quickly, Cheadle. Is her highness waiting for you?” Gel chuckled, teasing a slight blush from Cheadle’s cheeks with the implications of her girlfriend. She was right, but she didn’t have to say it in front of everyone.

Pyon looked up from her phone, “No matter the reason, I wanna leave as well. It’s been so quiet, if I don’t go now, I’ll take a nap right here.”

Cheadle dropped her cup, staring at Pyon with a mixture of shock and rage. “Why did you have to say that, Pyon.”

“Huh?”

The sound of distant footsteps could be heard.

“My next point of schedule is that no one is every allowed to say the Q-word again, everyone.” Cheadle buried her face in her open palms, painfully aware of what was about to happen.

Neither Pariston nor Ging had shown their faces the entire day. And there was usually a good reason when both nuisances were missing.

With a loud bang! the conference room doors blew open, and Pariston entered, sobbing and sighing as if his life depended on it.

Cheadle quickly tapped on her phone:

“Me @ C.<3: Meeting’s going to be longer today.”

Pariston sunk into his chair with a dramatic twirl, leaning back and covering his eyes with his arm. “Everyone, I apologize for arriving more than fashionably late today. However, I’ve been met with a personal tragedy, life ruining really, and couldn’t leave my home until now. I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t need your pity, and its oh too painful to even speak of!”

Silence befell the room.

Cheadle thought about just packing her things and leaving. Pariston was unmoving.

She exchanged looks with Pyon who started charging her phone with a power bank, in anticipation of a long night.

Cluck was the first one to break the silence. “Well, whatever, Cheadle you were sa- “

Interrupted by a sigh so loud and agonized that even creatures on the dark continent might have heard it. “Fine~ I can tell that all of you are just so on edge to know what could possibly shake me to my core like this!”

Pyon let her head fall onto the desk, defeated “We really weren’t- “.

“Ging handed me the divorce papers today. After all I’ve done for him! Sure, I put all his clothes in a trash bag and set it on fire, but what else was I supposed to do after he forgot laundry day for the third time, he’s never going to learn his lesson otherwise!”

“Wait, didn’t you get divorced 5 months ago?” Cluck asked, followed by a chorus of groans because she dared to entertain the drama king’s newest theatrical release.

“That divorce never got finalised after we made up during a passionate night on the beach.”

Kanzai felt himself puke in his mouth a little.

“And this morning I was expecting my daily espresso, but instead he just handed me divorce papers and left! The audacity to not even argue with me in public about it! He probably doesn’t even want to take custody of our kid this time either!”

“Your what?” Pyon looked up from her mobile version of PUBG.

“This time?” Cheadle chimed in, halfway through an astral projection into her home.

“During the last divorce I took custody, under the belief that he’d argue with me about it and we would have to go to court together, but instead the said ‘thanks’ and disappeared for 4 weeks!”

“That poor child.” Mizaistom added, secretly taking notes to inform child protective services, though Pariston lazily waved a hand, fake tears dried up.

“Oh, it’s all on paper. He lives with his aunt- or cousin? Ging is surprisingly vague when it comes to that, but at least most of the time he remembers her name.” He laughed, no one else joined him. “Ahem, the point being, this divorce I am forcing him to take Gon under his name, and he’ll see me and my new Armani suit in court if he refuses!”

He was finally sitting up straight, wiping the last few dried tears from his eyes. “Now, I don’t want to pull all of you into my complicated love life, so I am not asking anyone to take sides.”

A sigh of relief echoed through the room. No one wanted to be on either side.

Pariston leaned uncomfortably close towards Cheadle, voice barely above a whisper, “But I know no one here is a filthy Liberal, and would disregard my years long dedication to our organization~”

“Breathe into my general direction one more time and I am going to lobotomize you with my teeth.”

“Impressive!”

Cheadle forced herself to smile as politely as her remaining nerves granted her to. “If that is all, rat, I’m sure you’d like some time for yourself in this difficult time, so we really shou- “

The conference room doors flew open again, this time to a visibly agitated, and dripping wet Ging.

Pariston leaned over to Cheadle again, though he wasn’t breaking eye contact with his soon to be ex-husband. “I may have cut the breaks of his car in an emotionally upstirred fit, though I didn’t factor in water. Ging, did you take my dry-cleaning out of the car, that was quite expensive, you know?”

“I fetched it out of the water, don’t worry, and I was nice enough to throw it in and around your office. I may have knocked your computer off the desk in the process.”

“Wreaking havoc in my office without me? How disappointing.”

“I was thinking of you when I was kicking the door in.”

The air of the room had become uncomfortably stuffy, warm, and smelled of rotten fish.

The rest of the Zodiacs were desperately trying to look anywhere but the scene unfolding in front of them, and Cheadle got out her phone again.

“Me @ I. Netero: I want to leave the Zodiacs.”

Instant reply.

“I. Netero @ Me: No <3.”

When she looked up, Ging was sitting on Paristons lap, choking him while talking about redistribution of property during the divorce.

She rested her face in her hands, idly thinking about if she were to get a discount if she hired the same hitman for two murders.

[bbrandy2002]

My Love

My Love Chapter One

A/N: This is a WIP I have held onto since August and never wanted to post it. I was fearful that it was going to be so different (series wise) and the subject matter a little too difficult to read for some. The first few chapters are heavily angsty, but, it does get easier. Just know that if you are on my perma tag list, I do not expect you to read this (I never do with my others, as well), it won’t be for everyone and there will be no hard feelings on my part.

Chapter Warning: Sexual Content, but, I consider it mild and not racy.

The cellphone on Liam’s desk pinged with another message from Riley. He didn’t have to read it to know what she wanted, it would be the same message she sent to him an hour ago and the hours before that: I’m ready, My King.  

The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in his office until midnight, working on a mountain of proposals and negotiations, when her six week check up had given her the all clear earlier in the day.  She was making it practically unbearable on him with the tantalizing pictures of her bare skin that left little to the imagination. Revealing photos of her savory, voluptuous breast and those red lacy crotchless panties he loves, hidden under a silky robe. Six weeks was an eternity without the intimacy he so craved with her and that pile of paperwork would  have to wait until morning.

If he was finished with her by then.

Making love for Liam and Riley was one of the foundations to their nearly one year of marriage. It’s a demonstration of their hunger, their passion and  unwavering devotion to one another. It's more than just sex or having a need met...its carnal, its physical, its liberating, and the deepest form of their absolute love. A fact that has been true since their first time in the hedge maze before his coronation, and every instance since.

The act itself for them is as necessary as the air that fills their lungs or the blood that courses through their veins. They needes to join as one body, as one flesh, because she was his life and he was her soul.

Liam shuffled the papers together that were scattered in front of him, straightening them as quickly as he could and tossed them in a folder. He stood from his desk, turned off the lamp, adjusted himself from the engorgement that had returned again and raced out of his office. 

He entered his darkened quarters and made his way quietly up the stairs, loosening his tie as he walked softly across the marbled floor, mindful of the sound of each footstep. As much as he wanted to peek in on his infant daughter -- who was sleeping soundly in the nursery across from their bedroom -- the fear of her waking at this very moment was much greater.

The door was just slightly ajar and he could see the flickers of red and orange hues from the fireplace illuminating the bedroom with a small portion of its shimmering light escaping into the hallway. His hand nudged the door open and he walked inside. Hiis heart beat increased steadier and heavier with each second.

Within Liam was a literal craving that only she could satisfy. A flame that only Riley herself could ignite and extinguish at her will.  He recalled a time when his father told him she would never be good for him because his love for her made him weak, however, it was her love for him that made him stronger, more exuberant, a better man and king. 

As he stepped further inside, he was taken aback by the tiny flickers of candles that resonated from every available solid surface, adding further to the ambiance set by the glow of the fireplace. In all of its beauty, nothing compared to the sight of the woman leaning against the poster of their bed, wearing a red, see-through chemise and a sultry grin; her brown eyes beckoned her husband to come closer. 

Liam slipped off his wing tipped shoes with only his feet, slinging them away as he eagerly approached her. “My Love."

Using her backside to push herself away from the wooden poster -- her pupils already fully dilated and lust blown -- she shivered with anticipation of his every touch and his lips on hers. “My King."

He tugged on his loosened tie, pulling it through his collar and wound a portion of each end around his hands. When he finally reached her, Riley’s fragrance lingered in the air and casts an intoxicating spell that he couldn't help but relish in. 

“You...you look...insatiable." Liam tossed the tie, still wound around each hand, over her head and moved it down to her waist. He bit his lip as he used the tie to heave her flush against him. 

Riley began loosening the buttons of his shirt. “I missed you today." A flirty look danced across her face.

Liam arched his back, savoring each tender kiss she plantes from the newly exposed parts of his flesh. “Let me show you just how much I missed you."

Tossing his tie onto the bed, they each make quick work of the others clothing until nothing but bare skin and flesh remained between them. 

As the candlelight flickered and glowed across their naked forms, their eyes gaze at one another, entranced by the beauty and radiant heat that drew them together.

His fingertips graze slowly across her slender shoulders and down to her delicate, silky hands. He turns one of her hands over and traces a heart into the palm. “I love you, Riley." Liam moved lower to crest both of his hands on her rounded hips.

Liam pulled her closer, feeling the fullness of her breast pressed against his pounding chest while her stiff rosy nipples dancing gingerly on him.

Her hands reaches through his arms and around his waist, swaying to a melody only they could hear -- slow and rhythmic, yearning and craving. Their faces nestled affectionately, enjoying the warmth of flesh and desire. He nuzzled into her neck, his lips brushing gently against her sentient skin, nipping and suckling, leaving behind wet trails of his affection. Sweeping across her jaw, tenderly, he sought and found her lips, devouring them and caressing her supple tongue; she was as desperate for him as he is for her.

Hearts raced, eyes pleaded, sexual swells awakened.

Their physical dance rapidly becames more sensual as legs weaken slightly and hips sink and grind passionately together. Tongue’s continued to consume one another as both Liam and Riley find the most sensitive treasures of the other. His large docile fingers became moistened with the extraction of her pleasure, while her small hand stroked and kneaded his hardened and eager shaft. 

Riley’s head fell back, wincing and moaning his name in pure ecstasy, “Liam...Liam!” Her body tensed as heat and vigor began to surge throughout, causing him to delve more intently, igniting his increasing desperation and hunger. He pulled her snug against him, one strong arm giving her balance and the other ushering her to the brink of rapture and euphoria.

‘Let go, my love," his smokey voice whispered against her flushed cheek as Riley’s face buried into his broadened chest, gripping the solid muscles of his biceps. When the first cries of her pleasure are released, Liam lifted her chin from his chest so that he could see her soft, brown eyes dance and roll. “Yes, my love, let go for me."

With a feeble whimper, she let go, falling breathlessly into his arms.

Her lust blown orbs soon meet his anxious blue ones, both prepared for the final act: the one in which his body and her body unite as one, taking complete and total possession of the other.

“I need you now, Ri."

“Then take me, Liam."

He lifted her up swiftly. Riley’s legs wrapped firmly around him; her throbbing center aching to accept him.

Liam found her succulent lips again as he spun her around, his hands twisting at the back of her hair, locked in a passionate kiss.

Placing one knee on the edge of the bed, he eased her down; her legs falling open when his hips nudge between them. 

It had been over six weeks since he felt her -- since the warmth of her core gripped and coated him so tightly.

As his hips rested snuggly between her legs, he reaches down, grippes his hardened shaft and aligned himself with her. Liam looked down on the face of his wife, a soft sheen of moisture and heat radiating from it. She could not be more beautiful or sensual as she was in that very moment; no one would ever take this woman’s place in his life. 

She nodded with an earnest pleading and without any sense of hesitation, he thrust himself into her. Over and over again he entered into her, driving further and more vigorously each time. 

“Ahh, Liam, yes!"

Her moans and wails drove him to the edge of no return and he increased the intensity of his thrusts knowing she is close too.

As small beads of sweat collectrd along the defined lines of his back muscles, he gripped both of her wrist that are wrapped tightly around his shoulders and pinned her arms above her head. 

Lifting himself up, he now had the levity to plunge even deeper. Riley’s body began to writhe under him and he can sense she is ready to burst. Both of their legs began to tense and an increasing charge of passion and electricity begin to surge. Every part of their bodies started to quake and tingle. Liam gripped her wrists even tighter, feeling her walls flutter around his cock. 

He can now release himself.

“Riley!”

With one more forceful drive, he spilled himself into her. “Riley!”

He continued his surge, winding down slower and slower, until he has emptied himself completely.

Liam rested his head on Riley’s shoulder, both of them still reeling from the pleasurable high they just experience.

He turned his head so that his mouth can graze at her ear, still slightly breathless, “I love you.”

Riley nuzzled her cheeks against his mouth, then turned her head to face him, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. “I love you too, Liam...I always have...”

“Ans I always will, my love," he finished, kissing her once more.

After cleaning up, they return to the bed they have shared for almost a year and as is routine, she will lay on her right side. He would kiss into her silky, brown hair, and wrap his arms tightly around her. Within minutes, they both driftes off together into a blissful and loving sleep.

The sound of a baby’s cry at 2:30, wakes Liam from his slumber. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he peeks over at Riley, who is still laying on her right side, resting. Knowing she must be exhausted from so many sleepless nights, he rubs his hands over his face and rises from their bed. With Riley breastfeeding, he decided he would get the baby and bring her to their room so she doesn’t have to get up.

“Daddy’s coming baby," he whispers when he walks into the nursery, still slightly groggy from his lack of sleep.

“Hey, Ellie, my girl’, his voice always soft and soothing, lifts his fussy baby from her crib and carries her to the changing table. He sifts through diapers and loosens the buttons on her sleeper, thankful that there were no surprises inside. After changing his daughter, who is expressing her desire to feed, he kisses the top of her downey covered head and walks back into his bedroom.

Bouncing his little girl softly, he sits back down on his side of the bed, and turns his lamp on. “Shhh, its okay, princess, there’s momma”.

“Riley”, he whispers in her direction, still bouncing and soothing Ellie’s little cries.

He waits a moment, surprised she hasn’t yet stirred from the baby’s noises.

“Riley”, he calls again, “my love, Ellie’s ready for her feeding...aren’t you my girl”. 

Liam shift’s the baby into the crook of one arm and reaches over to his wife with the other. “Riley, Love, we need you to get up”, he taps on her exposed arm.

“Sweetheart?”, he begins to nudge at her a little more deeply.

When she doesn’t move, his heart starts to race, unsure if she is just completely exhausted, having complained about it more and more the past few days, or if its something more. 

He grabs her arm and rolls her onto her back, “Riley, are you...okay?”

“OH GOD!”, he yells, adjusting pillows on the bed to make a barrier so that he could lay Ellie down.

He climbs over her in a complete panicky state and begins to shake Riley, whose normal olive toned face is pale white; her body limp with each movement.

He leans over and places his ear on her chest, begging and pleading for any sign of air entering or movement.

When nothing is heard, he pushes an emergency button that is on the corner of each of their night tables, alerting the guards to the distress.

Placing his trembling hands on her chest, he begins compressions, not exactly sure of what he was doing, but, desperate to try anything, “Please breathe, my love...take a breath, damn it”. 

Continuing to compress, stop momentarily to administer two quick breaths, “Where the fuck are the guards at!”.

Time stood completely still, almost playing in slow motion. Each passing second was an agonizing terror for him.

Still working steadfastly and focused, he was unaware of the hoards of guards that sprang up on him, jolting him from his concentration.

“Please help her, she...she’s not breathing...Riley…” he trailed breathlessly, grief stricken and sobbing as he moved out of the way to allow the guards, who were medically trained, to take over. 

Bastien appeared out of the corner of his eye and Liam stumbled over to him, clutching and clawing at his head guards shirt, “Bastien...you have to help her...please bring her back...I can’t...I can’t..”.

“It’s okay, your majesty”, he gripped onto Liam, trying to calm his erratic behavior, “I will have a life flight crew brought in right away”. Bastien held onto Liam and walked him to his side of the bed, where Ellie was still crying and inched him down beside her.

Liam watched with uncertainty as the guards removed Riley from the bed and placed her on the floor to get a more solid surface to perform CPR. In that moment, he felt dizzy and nauseous, impatient for her to wake up and flash that bright smile that makes him weak in the knees. 

He remembers the first time he saw that smile...New York. On a whirlwind bachelor party thrown by his friends, he crept up on her while she was taking their order. After tapping her on the shoulder, attempting to take his seat, there it was. Not only that bright smile, but, those alluring, spirited, brown eyes; he was hers before she ever muttered a word to him.

If Liam wasn’t already captivated by her beauty, perhaps her giving, spunky, throw caution to the wind, personality would have been plenty sufficient in his eyes. She is ready for any challenge, any risk; even one that included placing her life on hold to follow a prince to a country she had never heard of in hopes of getting to know him better. He loved her from the moment she tagged him in that maze following the Masquerade Ball; over time that loved increased a million times over.

Liam was torn from his thoughts, when Miss Talbert, the Queen’s personal assistant, stepped up to him offering to care for Ellie, having been summoned by Bastien.  Still in a fog, he lifted his infant daughter from the bed, kissing her cheek, “Mommy’s going to be fine, sweet pea. I’ll come and get you in a little while”.  He handed Ellie off and quickly rounded to the opposite side of the bed, where his wife was still being assisted; more guards entering to aid in her recovery.

“Bastien, where the hell is the life flight?”.

“ETA is two minutes, your majesty”.

“That’s two fucking minutes too long...I want them here now, that’s an order!”

“Yes, sir”.

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 64 - Bridges Built and Burned

Chapter Rating: Teen Chapter Warnings: description of a panic/anxiety attack Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read it on AO3 or start at Chapter 1

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Twelfth day of Haring, 9:31 Dragon

An air of calm followed Rosslyn over the following days as she settled into the limitations the mages put on her for her recovery. In the beginning, she chafed at not being allowed to do more, but after the first hour-long meeting with Cailan and his surviving advisors left her grey-faced and staring into thin air, she gave in to her convalescence with barely a grumble. Anora, at least, understood her need to be doing something, even if beneath the graceful manners and elegant pours of tea every conversation with the queen felt like a test, a way to pry out her inclinations and posture over the king’s good opinion. Perhaps the suspicion was merely a holdover from too many years of habit, a wariness for the woman who had been set up as her rival before she even left the schoolroom, but it didn’t make their talks any less exhausting.

Far more pleasant was the extra time she got to spend with Alistair. Charming as ever, he kept as much in her company as he could with all her duties loaded on his shoulders, taking her out onto the battlements or to see Cuno, or tucked up in the warmth of the library so they could go through paperwork together. The normalcy of it felt strange after almost a year of sleeping with only a thin sheet of canvas to keep out the weather, and the routine and bustle of an army camp to keep her from thinking too deeply of home. Now home was the reality, complete with the familiar comforts and faces she had left behind, even if the fit was slightly off, like a favourite shirt pulled out of shape after one too many launderings.

On the third day, she even managed to sneak away. It was good to have a little rebellion, despite her reluctance to go further than either seeing Lasan in the stables, or to the kennel to check on Cuno’s recovery. Her dog’s missing foreleg had done nothing to quell his excitement when she had first stepped into the runs, his fits of whistling sneezes setting all the others off in mad barking so they wouldn’t be left out. Only Alistair’s sharp check for her injuries had stopped the dog bowling her over, but he had pushed into her face nonetheless, anxious as a nursemaid as she buried her head against his neck and erupted into sobs. He was still wobbly on his feet and a little incontinent, thanks to the medicines mixed by the healers, but otherwise he had recovered well.

“A few more days, and the mages say they can start to wean him off their potions,” Gareth informed her now as they watched his eyelids droop from the latest dose.

“That’s good,” she answered, smiling. “Then he can come upstairs and stop howling the walls down every time I have to leave.”

“Daft sod. Uh – I mean –”

“You’re the one living with him,” Rosslyn allowed. “If anyone’s earned the right to call him that, it’s you.”

Gareth chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s a good lad, mind.”

“He is.”

On her way back to the keep, she turned right instead of left beyond the harness room, and followed the stairs down towards the cells claimed from the old Alamarri settlement on the hill. Guilt prodded her steps, and intrigue. A question that had bothered her since finding out how her dog had survived. The guards posted to the vestibule at the bottom snapped to attention when they saw her coming, though the nervous glance they shared betrayed more than simple surprise.

“I’m here to see the blood mage,” she announced, before they could ask, or tell her to go away. When they hesitated, as if she were no more than a mere servant wanting to satisfy her curiosity, she drew herself up and stared them down.

“With all due respect, Ma’am, that man is maleficar, he canna be trusted.”

“And with no templars in the keep –”

“Am I still the Teyrna of Highever, or has something changed in the last half an hour?” she demanded. “Your concern for my safety is noted, but you wear the Laurels and you will stand aside at my orders.”

Defeated, the guards shared another glance before the one with the keys led the way to the right cell. The weight of the rock pressed down on her, almost as heavy as the darkness crowding around the oil-burning lanterns set in alcoves in the wall.

“Leave me the light, and lock the door behind me,” she commanded.

“Aye, Your Ladyship.”

She held the lantern high as she stepped into the cell – the same one that so lately had housed Fergus, though she tried not to think about it, or the animalistic odour lingering in the stone. The blood mage huddled in the far corner, flinching away from the light as it fell on him, but not fast enough that her breath didn’t catch. He was thinner now, and the scruff on his face had lengthened into a thin beard, but the lank hair and pale skin were the same as they had been when she confronted Howe. Pushing the memories away, she looked further and noted the cloth wrapped around his manacles to stop him cutting himself on the sharp edges, though she doubted that would be much of a barrier to one determined to make themselves bleed. That he hadn’t resorted to those desperate measures counted for him – but then, perhaps he was just patient.

“Jowan,” she said, as the lock clicked behind her.

When he turned to her, he had to blink until his eyes adjusted to the light, and when he recognised her, trepidation stiffened every muscle in his body.

“Your – I mean, my lady?” He coughed. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure how all these different title things work.”

“Your Ladyship,” she affirmed. “To you, anyway. I’m told you’re the one responsible for saving my dog’s life.”

A hasty, terrified nod.

“Then I owe you my thanks. He’s doing well, almost back to his old self.”

“I – I’m glad to hear it, Your Ladyship,” he managed.

Rosslyn let the silence stretch. As the moments passed under what Alistair called her general’s stare she watched the mage fidget and drop his gaze to the floor, covering his arms across his body as best he could. Good; if he were flustered, she would more easily spot a lie.

“I want to know why you did it,” she said at last.

“Uh…”

“Why didn’t you let him die when you already had a hand in the deaths of so many others?”

Jowan’s eyes flicked to hers in what might have been defiance, but it was gone too quickly to be sure. “I never wanted to kill anyone,” he confessed. “I only ever wanted to live free of the Circle. I don’t know if you have any idea what it was like there –”

“I saw what it became,” she replied, gently.

“That’s right. I heard about what Uldred did. He was the one who taught me about blood magic. If I’d been braver…” He swallowed. “But I was just an apprentice, and he was one of the senior enchanters – I knew they’d never believe me if I said anything, they’d just… All I wanted was to escape. I’m not that good at magic, I was never like Surana or Clement or Karyna, and there were always so many horror stories about the Harrowing, I knew they’d kill me or make me Tranquil for sure.” He seemed to realise he was speaking too quickly, and sighed to centre himself. “But I was caught trying to get into the phylactery chamber. I had no choice. I wanted to protect Lily, but she… I don’t know what they did to her.”

“Who’s Lily?” Rosslyn asked.

“I love her. But when I… Maker’s breath, she looked at me like I was a monster. The thought that she might have paid for my crime…”

She recognised the spiral he was about to fall into, had been there herself. Steady, she leaned into his eyeline and repeated her first question. “Why did you save my dog’s life?”

“Because it was the right thing to do,” he replied, looking up from his hands at last. “I was too afraid before, but you stood up to him, even after everything he said. Howe and Loghain threatened to hand me over to the templars if I didn’t do what they asked, but when I saw what you did, I couldn’t sit by anymore.” He straightened, and for the first time met her eye without hesitation. “That’s the truth. I’ve made so many mistakes, disappointed so many people – I wish I could go back and fix it. I don’t know if anything I do could ever make it right.”

With a sigh, Rosslyn lowered the lantern. “His Majesty has asked for my opinion on what should be done with you. As it stands, the templars are not in a position to take you back to the Circle, but nor can he just let you go.”

“I understand, Your Ladyship.”

“For my own part,” she went on, “I am grateful for what you did, but it wouldn’t be fair to weigh one life against the many more you’ve caused to suffer.”

At that, the mage slumped, though his expression lacked surprise. “I know it probably doesn’t mean anything, but I do wish I could go back and fix everything.” He licked his lips. “Thank you for coming to see me, anyway, for… giving me a chance to talk. It means a lot.”

“No decision has been made yet,” she told him, without quite knowing why.

He offered her a smile as she called for the guard, but it was thin and faded quickly. His eyes followed the swing of the door as it was opened, and as she ducked through back into the corridor, she didn’t look back. The second guard had followed his mate to watch her, and he saluted. The door slammed. She almost turned away, but something about his manner stopped her, a nervousness more sensed than seen, and while she couldn’t source it, it brought her notice to his posture, the way he stood not by the wall but in the middle of the corridor as if to herd her back the way she had come. Considering she had already escaped Jowan’s cell unscathed, it made little sense.

“What’s down there?” she asked, with a jut of her chin.

“No one.” The guard’s eyes flew wide. “That’s – nothing. I meant, ‘nothing’. Your Ladyship.”

She advanced on him, just a step. “Who is down there?”

“Uh… It’s really nothing to concern yourself with,” he tried again, but before she could squeeze anymore out of him, a dry, nasally voice trickled through the cracks in the stone walls and turned her blood to ice.

“Is that a visitor for little old me? Do hurry up, I’ve got a busy schedule.”

The guard tried to push in front of her. “Your –”

“Give me the keys,” she growled.

She didn’t even wait to be given them, instead snatched the ring out of the guard’s half-obedient hand, already marching forward. Her fingers shook. Disbelief raged through her blood. Her heart beat so loudly she didn’t hear the key when she turned it in the lock, but when the door swung open, with the light spilling through around her against the opposite wall, even that seemed to stop.

Howe’s face was obscured by dirt and a grey tangle of beard, layers of old bandages wrapped around his head crusted with blood on the left side, his skin saggy from lost weight, but the hooked nose and narrow, polecat eyes would be recognisable anywhere. It was like being stabbed again. She wanted to vomit.

The swine smirked at her. “Well, well, well. This is an unexpected pleasure.”

She tried to focus on his chains, his clothes, how the once-bright satin hung off him in tatters. “They found you.”

Her lungs wouldn’t work. How long had he been kept in the dungeon – under her feet? Why was he still alive? Why had nobody told her?

“I suppose it was too much to hope Loghain might have killed you,” he drawled, as if remarking about a small bet on a slow horse. “You’ve shown such an infuriating talent for survival – or maybe it’s just that so many people are willing to die in your place.” His eyes glittered. “Your father, your people, your dog –”

“You didn’t kill him,” she snapped. “He lives.”

“Oh? Pity.”

“What are you doing here?” Every word ground like glass on her tongue.

At this, Howe looked absolutely delighted. “Me?” he repeated. “I am here on the king’s invitation.”

“You’re a lopsided old man sitting in his own shit in a dungeon.” The wound in her side ached. She couldn’t stop shaking. “You have nothing left. And you’ll die a traitor’s death.”

“Will I?” he asked. “And what about you? You seem surprised to see me. Nobody told you I was here, did they? Not your crippled excuse for a brother, or the king, or even your dear princey-wincey. It must hurt, thinking you’re so important, so grown up, only to find those closest to you have so little regard for you. imagine not even telling you they’re secretly hiding your greatest enemy in your own keep!”

A pause, to let the realisation settle, but even though she knew what he was doing her feet were rooted to the stone and every barb stung and her mind stuck on the sight of him and it whisked away to what he had done, what he had wanted to do –

“They still consider you a child, just like your father when he sent you away. Do you want to know what his last words were? The look in his eyes when he realised I was the one who had brought him what he finally deserved?” He laughed. “And your mother. Do you want to know how long it took her to die? How many arrows –”

“ENOUGH!”

He fell silent, still smirking as if he weren’t manacled in a prison cell, as if this confrontation were a victory, and revulsion crawled so far up her throat she could no longer breathe. She reeled away from the door like a drunkard, vaguely aware of the guards calling her name. Her lantern slipped form nerveless fingers and smashed.

“If he speaks again, cut out his tongue.”

If she spoke the words out loud, she couldn’t tell. The only thought in her head was the need to leave, to run, never mind the ache in her side and the jumble of questions stirred up in her mind like wind-scattered leaves. The whos and hows and whens swirled before her eyes, until her legs buckled and a sharp pain in her knees found her halfway up the stairs to the keep. A sob lurched in her throat, caught only by the hand she slapped across her mouth. Tears came unbidden. She bit her lips together and forced her lungs to still against the heaving breaths they tried to gouge out of the air, to keep silent in case the soldiers heard her, in case they came looking.

It was the pain from her wound that finally calmed her weeping, the fact that every cut-off inhale sent a jagged line of fire from her ribs to her hip, but with it her mind was allowed to drift from the blank panic of needing to keep quiet, and a seed of thought sprouted in the dark. She hadn’t known about Howe’s capture, but someone had ordered the guards to keep watch. Someone had kept this information from her, ordered them to keep it from her. The spark of realisation set among her tremors like dry tinder and flared into real, scalding anger.

It had her body in its grip before her mind decided where to go, drove her only up, past a startled maid on her way from the kitchen, past Cailan and Anora arm in arm with only the most instinctive of obeisances, before she reached the second floor of the keep, her family’s private level, the pull of her wound worsening with every step but not enough to stop her.

“My lady, what –”

But she swept away again before Graela had time to finish her question or drop the linens being folded on the bed. The Cousland sword clinked as she plucked it from its corner in white-knuckled hands. She had carried it through battle and fire and the swell of the Waking Sea, and now she had only a few strides left until she reached her brother’s temporary room.

Amell, tending him, jumped away with a small shriek as Rosslyn kicked in the door. Fury took her to the bed, where Fergus hastily flung the covers over to hide the truth of his atrophied legs.

“Rosslyn, what –”

“This is yours,” she snarled, and flung the blade onto the mattress by his hand.

“Father’s sword?” He glanced from it, back to her. “I don’t understand –”

“I was going to talk to you about it,” she rushed. “About the title and who should have it and what we would do next – but why should I bother if you’ve already decided to shut me out of decisions that are mine to make by right!”

“Rosslyn –”

“I know Howe is here!” she thundered, and her lips bared in a feral smile as he winced. “You didn’t think to tell me you’d found the man who slaughtered our entire family?”

How dare he. How dare he take this from her. Her breath came in spurts, her nails biting into her palms, flesh washing hot and cold as if night and day were chasing over her skin.

“I didn’t want –”

“He’s sitting beneath us right now and you thought you could keep it from me? How long has he been there? How long have you been lying to me? Was it before I woke up, or after? Those soldiers down there were wearing the Blue, plain as day, and only one person could tell them to lie to my face. How could you –”

“Your Ladyship, your wound.” Amell started forward. “It would be best if you –”

“Get away from me.”

“Don’t snap at her,” Fergus chided, as if he had the right, then slumped. “How did you find out?”

“What does it matter when you didn’t tell me?” she cried. “You’re my brother! You should understand! What, do you think I’m still a child who should be kept away from the kitchen knives? While you were cringing away in that dungeon doing nothing I was out leading armies, fighting for our people’s freedom! I did everything expected of me and more to get back here! I retook this castle! And yet none of that means anything?”

“You were still recovering,” he ground out, but the excuse only made her anger flare hotter.

“I have hunted him for a year, I had to read report after report of everything he did, I saw what happened to Canavan and Gilmore, and Mother, and Father, and I led Highever’s army away and into war even though it was the last thing I wanted to do! And you, meanwhile, can’t even find the guts to walk ten steps to your own room! You’re a coward. How dare you make decisions for me? The monster responsible for everything we’ve been through has been locked away right beneath our feet and you’re just sat here as if you don’t even care!”

“Don’t you dare tell me I don’t care!” he roared, his own anger finally let loose. “He took everything from me – everything. I couldn’t lose you as well. We thought it best –”

But she pounced on that word like a jackal. “We?” she repeated. Spots danced in front of her eyes now that her battle rage was burning itself out. She clutched at her side, felt something wet seeping through the fabric of her dress, but his blanch turned her stomach more than the agony gritting her teeth.

“We wanted to protect you,” Fergus insisted.

“Alistair knows.”

Her legs crumpled. She had to catch herself on the bedpost, and in the confusion that followed, Amell’s hands pressed over hers with cool words of reassurance, a shoulder under her arm hoisting her up, her brother reaching for her from so far away – and him in the doorway, transfixed, horrified.

“Graela told me you were…”

She swallowed past the knot of tears gathering sharp at the back of her throat and turned to the enchanter. “I – I can’t breathe.”

“You’ve torn the muscle layers. Here –”

Alistair darted in to help as she staggered forwards on Amell’s arm, but she pierced him with such a glare he stopped short, mouth slack with a look of puppyish hurt that woke a vindictive squeeze of satisfaction in her chest. She vaguely heard him exchanging low, desperate words with Fergus as she limped back to her own room, a curse, and then tentative footsteps as she was eased down into a chair by the fire. Now that she had opportunity to notice, every tiny shift of her clothes over her reopened wound tugged at the edges like fishhooks.

“Rosslyn.”

“This isn’t your room,” she growled at him. Air hissed between her teeth. She couldn’t tell if it was the pain causing the sting at the corner of her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Pushing down the discomfort she let her eyes fall on him, taking him in, hunched shoulders and hands wringing with the suppressed need to reach for her. “You’re sorry you were found out,” she corrected, slowly, with only the barest wobble in her voice before she turned her gaze to the hearth.

A pause, and then a sigh.

“Riley and half a squad of infantry brought him back two days ago. They found him with Loren and Mother Berit. It seems Loren decided favour with the Maker was worth more than his loyalty to the Crown.”

“And yet I didn’t hear a thing about it,” she replied. “You lied to me. To my face. Even though you knew what he meant to me.” The struggle to keep her voice level was one she was losing, but between the threatening tears and the words she had already hurled at Fergus, her throat ached as if she had swallowed smoke. And still her anger smouldered. “Ever since the battle you’ve treated me like I’m incapable of even standing on my own feet, like I’m a fool who can’t be trusted to drink out of a proper goblet. Fergus doesn’t surprise me, but you – How could you keep this from me?”

Alistair threw his hands up in exasperation. “Because I was afraid something like this would happen! Every time Howe turns up you get this – this intense focus and you stop caring about anything else. You push yourself, and you hurt yourself, and you get so blinded by the idea of vengeance you turn into someone I barely recognise!”

“I don’t turn into anyone!” she shot back, staggering upright once more.

“No, you should sit –”

She slapped his hand away. “This is me, and it’s not something that can be tucked away out of sight just because you find it distasteful. What do you think I was doing all those months you sat so cosily under that mountain? I killed people. I’ve lost count of how many, not to mention all the others that were sent to die on my orders. Why shouldn’t I seek vengeance?” she demanded. “Howe deserves to die. He deserves every ounce of suffering I can wring out of him.”

“There – that’s it right there!” he shot back. “You’re so focussed on how he hurt you, you can’t see how it’s twisting you into something exactly like him!”

“‘How he hurt me’?” Incredulous, she could only stare at him. “He ruined my life! Are you saying I shouldn’t be angry about everything he’s done?”

“This isn’t anger, this is blackness, and you’re letting it consume you.”

“He murdered my family!” she shouted. “He pretended to be my father’s friend for years and then he slaughtered him like an animal! Doesn’t it matter what he did to Cuno, to my people – what he was planning to do to me? He has caused so much pain and he deserves all of it back again –”

“And how would you do that?” Alistair challenged, in a voice like steel. “He’s one man – you can only kill him once.”

“I’d find a way – I will find a way to make it right. I let him go at West Roth and I have regretted it ever since!”

He drew back at that, as if she had struck him.

“I can’t do it again,” she promised. “I won’t.”

“And this isn’t a path I can see you walk down. I won’t watch you destroy yourself.”

Until that moment, she hadn’t noticed the physical distance separating them. There was hurt in his eyes, but also a plea to a part of her still reeling from the blow of being lied to – that he had lied to her about the one thing she had wanted for almost a year – and it channelled her rage into something colder, harder, like the slow of a river freezing into winter ice.

“Then get out,” she said.

He stepped towards her instead. She looked away, stiff, shoulders straight, a dismissal she had learned in her time at court when pretending someone didn’t exist was the biggest insult of all.

“Damn your pride,” he spat, after a long moment of watching her. She followed the stomp of his boots to the doorway with her face still turned to the window, refusing to be cowed, and when he paused, she braced for whatever curses he would choose.

“You saved my life at West Roth, in case you didn’t remember. I hope you don’t regret that as well.”

And then he was gone, and the anger clutching at her heart unspooled, and when her breath came back it was the sharp, desperate gasp of a sob as she fell to her knees.

[luckyjak]

abandoned fic: Caleb the Time Traveler

I’m not ever going to finish this fic (rest in peace Molly) but I like what I have, so I thought I’d share it with you all. The plan was for it to be an eventual Widomauk piece, but I’m just not inspired to write Widomauk anymore, given that Molly is dead and has been for 2 years now.

In the end, it was all frighteningly simple, really.

Killing Trent had been easy. Most things were for a high powered wizard, which Caleb was at this point in his life. And while disintegration was too quick and too kind of a death for a man who had caused as much pain at Trenk Ikithon had, Caleb didn’t dare try to take any chances.

He would have thought there would be more to it. Maybe the gods themselves would intervene and stop him, or maybe someone else, a mysterious figure from an even worse timeline would try to stop him, but no. One quick spell, and Caleb had altered the timeline for the better.

He sat on his hands for a while after that, not quite sure what to do now that Trent no longer existed and could be the focus of all evil in both the world and in Caleb’s mind. But there was still corruption in the Empire, and there was still darkness, even at the Soltryce Academy. 

So he rolled up his sleeves, and he got to work.

Little by little, he changed the world. By the time a young Bren enrolled at the Academy, it was a legitimate school for magic learners, and the Empire was a brighter, better place. There was an Empress now instead, a distant cousin of King Bertrand, and while she made mistakes occasionally, she had a good heart--of that Caleb was deadly certain. 

After that, he got more selfish in his pursuits. Traveling back to this time had been a one-time deal: he would never go back to his own timeline. Theoretically, such a timeline no longer existed. He would never see his friends again.

Therefore, he did what he could to make their lives better in this timeline.

Bren was taken care of: Bren would have parents and a girlfriend and a boyfriend and hopefully never be any more ambitious than teaching at the Academy for the rest of his days. Honestly, Caleb could hope for nothing more for his younger, alternate self. 

But the rest of the Mighty Nein? He did what he could, for them and their happiness.

He couldn’t stop Fjord from being bullied or from being an orphan, but he could modify Vandren’s memory and make him think he was Fjord’s biological father. It was a lie, but a small one, and it ultimately made both men’s lives better. In Caleb’s world, that was a lie worth telling, a spell worth casting. From there, it took only the wise words of a “friend” to encourage Vandren to give up on the orbs for Ukatoa, and to take an interest in his young son instead. A gentle nudge, a small trade of coin, and the Tide’s Breath would find it’s port in Nicodronas instead of Port Damali instead. Another nudge, another slight but gentle push, and a young Fjord would find himself drawn into long midnight conversations with the mysterious Sapphire of the Sea, standing beneath the window to the Lavish Chateau one evening when he could not sleep, and neither could she. They would become fast friends, and while Caleb could not fix all the world’s problems, he could make sure that two of his friends were no longer lonely. 

He could only help Jester so much: he respected Marion too much to modify her memories, and no silver tongue could convince the woman to let her daughter have just a bit more freedom. So he sent Fjord her way instead, and before that, when she was younger, Caleb would visit her, often, under the guise of night and with a heavy cloak of magic. It was a small thing, keeping a young girl company, and he liked the tricks and jokes she learned to play from him. If she happened to call him the Traveler--well, that was her name for him, not his. As far as the actual Traveler was concerned, he must have found it amusing, because Jester still became a cleric in the end. When she ran away from Nicodronas, Fjord’s father offered her a job on his ship, and she learned all she needed to from a Tortle named Orly. 

Beauregard was a trickier friend to help: he could not make her parents into better people, nor could he ever guarantee that they would love her the way she deserved. So instead he kidnapped her as a baby, and left her with his own parents instead. A rational decision that took little convincing, in his mind. It was surprisingly easy, no more difficult that killing Trent, and Beau would be happier for it. His parents were loving and kind and had always wanted another child, although they had never been able to afford one. They were surprised to find the infant girl and the sack of gold on their front steps, but they loved her nonetheless. And Bren could do with a sister: lord knows it had helped Caleb, in time. The only oddity was when he stopped by occasionally to check in, and heard Beau’s rough voice grow up with a Zemnian accent. 

He fixed other things, too. When Caduceus Clay was eleven, making mud pies in the backyard with his sisters, his parents received a letter telling them exactly what was causing the corruption in their woods, and how to fix it. When the goblins attacked Felderwyn, Veth and Yeza Brenatto were on their honeymoon in Whitestone, an unexpected gift they hadn’t planned on that they had received anonymously in the mail. When Yasha and Zuela ran away to be together, they found they suddenly had the money and transportation and paperwork to make it to the Empire together, far from the consequences of their clan.

Caleb was, at last, at peace. The world would be well. 

He “retired” after that, finding his way back to the Academy in a nice, quiet teaching position, content to live out the rest of his days as a silent guardian of Exandria. It was lonely at times--there was no one he could ever tell his story to, and no one would ever believe him. 

He had forgotten nothing, left no stone unturned, had fixed every problem he could think of. His world was, for once, finally perfect.

Which was why the purple tiefling in front of him startled him so.

“Mollymauk,” he said out loud, on reflex, although the man before him wasn’t Molly, and wouldn’t be for another few years, at least. He was young, tall and lanky, no older than 20, if he was even that old. The man’s hair was shorter, shaved down so that only the barest bit of black fuzz showed, and there was nothing ornate about him: there was no jewelry in his horns, and the clothes he wore were plain and simple and dark. There were no bright tattoos to catch his eye and no flashy tricks or smiles, and yet there was no mistaking it: the man before him was Mollymauk Tealeaf, or would be, one day.

He seemed impossibly young, full of energy, and just looking at him made Caleb feel like an ancient dragon, staring at an impossible, unearned hoard.

(He had forgotten Molly. How could he have forgotten Molly? He had killed Lorenzo and the Iron Sheppards when they were so young and yet he never once thought to check in on Mollymauk. But Mollymauk didn’t exist in this timeline yet, did he? He would be Lucien now, and Caleb had no idea how to find Lucien--except that he was here, now, in front of him. And in his timeline, the one he came from, Molly had been dead for five years, and yet the universe saw fit to send this other Molly his direction anyway.)

“Er, no?” The voice was mostly the same, but different--a different accent, at least, as far as Caleb could tell from what little he’d said.  “Sorry?”

“My apologies,” Caleb said quietly. “You--ah, you reminded me of someone. My mistake.”

Shorter hair, no tattoos, darker clothes--but still fundamentally Molly. The same eyes, the same horns, the same crooked grin--that’s what really sealed it for him. “A good someone?” The non-Molly asked, sharp teeth pointed out of his smile. 

“An old friend,” Caleb answered honestly. “A dead one.”

The not-Molly cocked an eyebrow at that, but didn’t question him further. “Perhaps it’s fortune, then. I’ve been meaning to speak with you, Master Widogast.”

That was interesting. “Oh?”

“I’m told you are the brightest wizard the Empire has to offer,” The not-Molly was certainly charming, he’d give him that, although his voice had more of a Krynn inflection than what Caleb remembered-- “My name is Essek Thelyss--”

“It is not.” Caleb stopped him, not letting the not-Molly speak.

The not-Molly, not-Essek didn’t move, but he didn’t stop smiling either, as if he was used to being caught in a fib and knew how to get out of it. “Oh? What’s my name then?”

“I do not know, but I have met Essek Thelyss, and you are not him,” 

Again, the not-Molly didn’t seem stirred. “How do you know I’m not Essek Thelyss, and whoever you met just happened to steal my name?”

He didn’t have a good or clever response to that. “Something tells me that’s not the case, however,”

The not-Molly’s eyes sparkled as he talked. “Then what’s my name?”

“Lucien,” He took a stab in the dark, the name of Molly’s past life, and that got him a hearty laugh.

“I’m afraid that’s not my name, either, darling, but I do like it more than Essek. Easier to spell. I think I’ll keep it.” He grinned, and held out his hand for Caleb to shake. “Call me Lucien.”

“Mr. Lucien,” Old habits died hard, it seemed; Caleb shut his book, finally. “How might I help you?”

“I’m in need of a wizard of a particular caliber of skill, and I’m told you are the best the Academy has to offer. Unparalleled in his field, they told me.”

“It won’t work,” Caleb brushed him off.

“I haven’t even told you my plan yet!”

“You don’t have to. I know it ends with you in an early grave,” Caleb shook his head. “You are no wizard, Mr. Lucien, and I doubt you have the temperament to start now. Whatever you are trying to do, you’d be better off if you stopped it now.”

“You must help me,” Lucien pleaded, his voice desperate. “If you don’t, I--I know your secret,”

“I rather doubt that.”

“You’re a time traveler, from the future.” That stopped Caleb dead in his tracks. “That, or you are the most convincing seer I’ve ever met.”

It was dead silent for a moment as Caleb’s thoughts raced through his head. How? How did he know? How was it even possible that this not-Molly would have even the slightest idea of who he was?

“Holy shit, I’m right?” Lucien laughed, louder than Caleb thought he might’ve intended. “You are a time traveler. I was just guessing, but I’m right, aren’t I?” He cackled. “Luxon above, you’re from the goddamn future. It’s why you recognized me. You called me--Molly? Mollymauk? Not the best name I’ve ever used for a con but honestly not the worst either. It’s growing on me, actually. Tell me, was I still handsome in the future? It’s a very important question--”

The hold person spell was up before Caleb even though to cast it. “Shut. Up.” A moment, then two, the not-Molly’s face frozen in time as Caleb struggled to catch his breath.

He took that moment, and then he released the spell. He expected another barrage of inane questions, but the not-Molly was silent, waiting expectantly.

“How did you know?”

Not-Molly smiled, not unkindly. “Essek Thelyss is a not even a hundred years old in the Krynn Dynasty. He’s a smart but reclusive boy, doesn’t have a lot of friends and most people wouldn’t know him because he keeps to himself. His mother is currently grooming him to be the next shadowhand, a fact that is not known to many. For you to know him well enough to recognize on sight that I’m not him? He must have an impressive future indeed.”

“What’s your name, really?”

Not-Molly didn’t want to answer that one. “Some call me the Nonagan. That will suffice.” 

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I have for you.”

“Hmm,” Caleb sat back down at his desk, trying to appear calmer than he felt. “So what if I am from the future? I won’t help you. I already told you that your plan doesn’t work--it ends with you in a grave.”

“Well, Mr. Caleb--can I call you Mr. Caleb? Master Widogast seems so terribly formal--”

“No,”

“-- from what it sounds like, it sounds like my plan works perfectly.”  The Nonagan batted his eyelashes. “You see, my plan is to die. Permanently.”

“What are you on about, exactly?”

“I am over a thousand years of the Krynn Dynasty’s attempts at perfect consecutation.  I am a Beacon made flesh. I am the Luxon’s divine light, and the closest thing this world has ever seen to genuine immortality. I cannot die.” He paused. “Well, I can, I suppose, as any creature made flesh can die. But I always come back,” he rolled up his sleeves, and showed Caleb a tattoo of a red eye on his wrist. “It takes a while. And I don’t remember anything at first. But with enough time, the memories come back. And I would, with your help, like them to stop, if you please.”

[solastia]

Knotting Hill | 2

Pairing: Taehyung x Namjoon

Word Count: 5,335

Summary: When Alpha Taehyung starts the porn video titled “Knotting Hill,” he wasn’t prepared for the way his instincts were screaming at him to claim the beautiful Omegan porn star, Namjoon.

Genre & Warnings: Smut! With some feelings, course. This whole thing is basically just an excuse for some Vmon smut. Porn star! au. Nothing really triggering, I don’t think.

A/N: Just the epilogue left to go! 

Taehyung walked up to the doors of the surprisingly normal-looking building, wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on his slacks. His heart was racing and when he caught the faintest scent of an ocean breeze, his Alpha was practically howling. It belonged to him, he was sure of it.

Right before he opened the door that he hoped led to where he was supposed to go, he ran a hand down his shirt, nervously checking for wrinkles or foreign substances. He'd spent three hours this morning getting ready. He really hoped he looked impressive. He had picked the best high fashion pieces he'd gotten from work over the years, and he hoped he looked debonair instead of like the nervous prom date he felt like. With one last deep breath, he flung open the door and strode inside...but the scent. Fuck. It was so rich in here.

His mate smelled like a gentle ocean breeze, fresh and calming, and this entire building was saturated in it. There were others in here just as strong, but that scent just called out to him. His Alpha was practically crowing with pride from having found their other half at last.

Yoongi was the audio engineer, and had told him to come straight to his office when he arrived, that it was the one with the glass door. Apparently, he thought it was hilarious to make the door see-through and seemingly easy to enter when it actually had five locks.

Taehyung finally found the room at the end of a massive hallway. The door was closed, and when he peeked inside he saw Yoongi sitting at his desk. He knocked and he saw one earphone hanging off of his neck so he knew the Omega heard him. He waited a couple seconds before trying the handle. As he suspected, it was locked tight. 

 “Yoongi. Open up, man.” He was answered with one finger being held up, and he figured it was lucky that it was the one that meant wait instead of fuck you.

Finally, Yoongi turned around and faced the door, cocking an eyebrow at the increasingly irritated Alpha. He loved Yoongi hyung, he really did, but his sense of humor can fuck right off. He gestured towards the door and - though he couldn’t hear it - he knew Yoongi was sighing dramatically as he pushed himself out of his chair and shuffled towards the door.

After several clicks, the door was finally flung open and Taehyung inhaled shakily as the ocean breeze scent rushed towards him yet again. The Omega obviously spent a lot of time in Yoongi's office.

"Hey, hyung. How's it going."

Yoongi grinned softly. "It's goin'. How you feelin'? You nervous?" 

Taehyung groaned. "Never more in my entire life." 

Yoongi gave an amused huff, leading Taehyung over to a little loveseat in the office.

"If you want to stop at any time, just let me know. I have a feeling you'll be fine though. I've already arranged it so that you'll have a private audition, but we will be recording it to see how you look on camera and what we would have to improve on." 

Taehyung gulped and nodded in understanding. He didn't care about being recorded; he'd done kinkier stuff on his own time. He was, however, nervous about meeting Namjoon. Would he recognize him as his mate right away? Would he measure up since the other did this professionally?

“It's set up in one of the stage bedrooms,” Yoongi continued. “I told them it was a reality concept, so no makeup or crazy lights. It's just going to be you two in a room, as real as can be. I remember how it was when I first met Jungkookie, so I know neither of you will be coherent enough to listen to queues or care about the camera."

“What was it like for you? Jungkookie told me how it was for him, but how did your Omega respond?” Taehyung asks.

Yoongi hums in thought. “It was kinda like...everything just sorta clicked into place. I don’t mean that romantic relationships are the cure-all or the only thing to strive for, but for me - I was actually waiting for my Alpha for a long time. When I first saw Jungkook, first smelled mate - I was so happy. And my Omega side? Over the fucking moon. I immediately went into a sort of mini heat and dragged him into my office.”

So," Taehyung swallowed nervously, "He's going to understand whats going on? He's going to be able to actually consent or tell me to fuck off if he changes his mind?"

"That's what you're worried about?" Yoongi grinned in amusement. "Yeah, contrary to popular belief, Omegas don't lose their damn minds when in heat. Especially not a small one. He can still say no or let you know if he's uncomfortable. And he's not going into this completely blind. He knows you're the guy we've been trying to set him up with. He also saw your picture months ago, so if you reacted that strongly to seeing him in the video, he might have an idea that you're his mate already."

Taehyung's jaw dropped. "Then...why? Why wouldn't he try to find me? Does he...not want me? Should I leave?" 

Yoongi rushes to the couch, grabbing onto Taehyung's knee to comfort him.

"Hey. No. Don't think like that. Listen. I don't know exactly what's going on in that giant head of his, but it's nothing bad. When we told him he was doing the audition today and that it was with you, he looked happy. And...relieved. Which, that wouldn't make sense if he didn't know something, right?"

"He really looked happy?" Taehyung asked softly.

Yoongi pet his knee and nodded. "Yeah. It's going to be alright, Tae. And if anything goes wrong, hyung is here. Okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Yoongi hyung."

"No problem. Now, I don't usually help with paperwork and all that shit, but I wanted to make sure you were taken care of, so we're going to do this together and then I'll walk you over to the room. Once you're in there, it's just going to be the two of you and the camera, but I'll be nearby in case you need me. Consider yourself lucky - I don't usually leave this office."

Taehyung snorts, but impulsively reaches over and hugs the surprised Omega.

"Thanks."

Together they poured over the paperwork, basically stating he was legal and doing this of his own free will. Also, lots of legal lingo to do with private information and the protection of their employees. Taehyung felt a little better knowing his mate has been well protected.

When it was all finished, Yoongi led him to another part of the studio where they kept staged rooms. When Yoongi flung open the door, Taehyung releases the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Some sort of fifty shades sex dungeon, maybe. Instead, it was just a really nice bedroom. There were a couple of nice recliner chairs, a filled bookcase, some decent looking art prints on the wall, and a huge king-sized bed right in the middle. If it weren't for the camera and lighting equipment, it would look totally normal.

He turns to Yoongi and chuckles nervously. "You think I'm doing this the right way, hyung?"

Yoongi shrugs. "Maybe meeting on one of those dates that we tried setting you up on before we got desperate and sent you his videos would have been more romantic, but this is fine too. I mean, you guys are going to want to fuck the moment you see each other, so at least this way you'll have access to a bed and I'll be nearby in case you need me."

"Alright," Taehyung takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. "I think I'm ready."

Yoongi claps his shoulder. "You'll be fine, Taehyungie. I've never seen a person you couldn't charm. I'll tell Joon you're ready and I'll be working next door."

Once the bedroom door closes behind Yoongi, Taehyung starts pacing nervously. He stops once he remembers Namjoon will be there any moment, and he doesn't want that to be his first impression. He grabs a book, surprised that they actually had words and weren't just props and settles into one of the recliners, reading without really paying attention.

He wasn't sure how long he was sitting there, but he didn't hear the door open. It wasn't until the fresh scent of the ocean wafted towards him that he realized he wasn't alone anymore.

It was even more intoxicating fresh. He could practically feel himself sitting on the beach as a gentle breeze flew over the water towards him. Only now it was intermingled with other scents, primarily unmated Omega reaching heat.

He was almost scared to look at the person that it was coming from, but he forced himself to look up. Namjoon stood in front of the closed door watching him with an inscrutable look with his hands in his pockets. He was dressed casually in jeans, a red tank top, and a snapback.

"Lord of the rings, huh? I'm more of a Hobbit fan, myself," The Omega grinned softly, his shoulders beginning to loosen up in the presence of Taehyung's wildly blushing face.

"I...um. Hi?" Taehyung stammered as he fought with his instincts in an effort to appear calm.

The videos did not do Namjoon justice. He was even more perfect in person. He was taller than Taehyung, and his bare arms were bulging with muscle. Taehyung practically felt waifish next to him. His Alpha was chomping at the bit to get to the Omega and claim him right there.

The subtle flare of the Omega's nostrils and slight dilating of his eyes - something you would miss if you weren't staring as avidly as Taehyung was - meant that he was making his interest very obvious.

"Sorry," he said softly. He wished his Alpha was better behaved. "I'm Kim Taehyung."

"I'm Kim Namjoon. How convenient that we already have the same last name?" He chuckled. Taehyung was so enraptured by the sudden appearance of dimples that it took him a moment to understand.

"Wait, what?" 

Suddenly, Namjoon's cheeks sported an adorable blush as he smiled shyly at Taehyung. "I mean, since we're mates and all." 

"You knew?" Taehyung whispered, unable to hide his hurt and confusion. 

"Yeah. Kook showed me your picture and I knew instantly."

"Then...why? Why wouldn't you say something? Or come find me? I just found out yesterday and came here instantly." 

Namjoon shuffles his feet nervously. "There's...not a lot about me that fits into the Omegan stereotype. I'm too big, too independent, too clumsy. I rap in my spare time and I make porn for a fucking living."

"But, I'm still an Omega. I still wanted my mate to show that they wanted me. To have them...chase me," Namjoon says shyly. He chuckles a little. "Honestly, I didn't think it was going to take this long. Kook told me he sent you a video and I thought you'd watch it right away."

"I stopped watching videos he sent me after watching cereal being eaten out of something that was not meant to be used as a bowl."

Namjoon grimaced. "Understandable."

"So...this is okay then? Me being here? It isn't creepy?"

Namjoon smiles softly. "Nah. I'm glad you finally came. And apparently, interested in being a porn star," he quirked an eyebrow as Taehyung groaned in embarrassment. "I mean, I don't mind, as long as I'm the one you plan on shooting with," Namjoon continues, smirking.

Taehyung blushes, even as he feels his blood rushing down below at the very thought of being with this gorgeous Omega. The scents in the room are becoming overwhelming as he battles to keep his head on straight, but he can scent Namjoon. The Omega smells overwhelmingly of heat and slick.

"For the record," Taehyung stammers, "I think you're beautiful, and I can't wait to get to know you better." 

"I'm not too big?" Namjoon asks, vulnerability rife in his voice.

"Absolutely perfect," Taehyung states, staring confidently into Namjoon's eyes for the first time. 

"Good," Namjoon sighs. "Does that mean we can fuck now, because I am fucking dying. It's been everything I could do not to jump on you immediately." 

And just like that, Taehyung's nerves go out the window as he giggles. His Omega is so cute.

 "Come here, baby."

Namjoon whines and throws himself into Taehyung’s waiting arms. The Alpha is ecstatic to finally be able to touch him. Instead of throwing him to the floor and shoving it in like he’d nearly expected, both Taehyung and his inner Alpha are happy to revel in their mate’s scent.

Taehyung wraps his arms around Namjoon's waist and shoves his face into his neck. The ocean scent is so intoxicating there, mixed as it was with heat pheromones. He rubbed his cheek against the slowly swelling gland, wanting so badly to smell the two of them mixed. Namjoon did the same, the Omega’s hot breath against his neck making his shiver. “Smell so good, Alpha,” he groaned. 

“Yeah? What do I smell like to you?” “Like...like trees. Forest. Cedarwood. Sage. Together it’s like...walking along a cliff, with a forest on one side and the ocean on the other.” 

"That sounds pretty," Taehyung hummed, as he pulled away to look at Namjoon. "We should go do that sometime, see how we compare."

Namjoon smiles and nods, his eyes flicking down to Taehyung's lips. "Kiss me, Taehyung? Please."

Taehyung's Alpha was screaming at him to claim already, but he was going to do this right, dammit! He ignored the desperate side of himself, instead gently cradling Namjoon's cheek his hand as he leaned forward and kissed the Omega gently. Some cheesy part of Taehyung insisted it felt like coming home. All he knew was that the Omega's lips were soft and luscious, moving against his in a way that screamed confidence and experience. He supposed he should feel intimidated by that, but he was too overwhelmed to care.

Namjoon pulled away with a moan and whispered against his lips. "Bed. Please, my Alpha."

The rush of having such an exquisite Omega begging for him made his Alpha flare up with pride, and with a surge of confidence, he growled quietly while he herded him towards the bed. 

"Maybe I don't want you on the bed. Maybe I want to bend you over one of those chairs. Or have you present on the floor. Maybe I'll fuck you against the wall so Yoongi hyung can hear how well I take you." 

 Namjoon whimpers. "Anything. You can do anything. Just touch me!" 

Taehyung gently pushed Namjoon until he was sitting on the end of the bed. He pulled the hat off and flung it onto one of the chairs. Namjoon's silver hair was ruffled and free of product, so it was standing up everywhere. Taehyung thought he looked adorable.

He tugged on the tank top, and with a quick nod from Namjoon, that went flying in the same direction as the hat. It took everything for Taehyung to contain his own whimpers at the sight of that bare chest in person. He couldn't wait to cover it in marks.

Taehyung dropped to his knees and tugged off Namjoon's jeans, surprised and yet somehow not that he wasn't wearing any underwear. Instead, his little Omega cock was already hard and slapped against his tummy once it was free.

Taehyung held up the jeans, noticing the back of them was sopping wet. "Fuck, you're really wet, aren't you baby?"

"All for you, Alpha," Namjoon answered coyly, laying back on his elbows as he opened his legs wide.

Taehyung couldn't hold back his desperate growls at the sight of Namjoon laying bared and wet, ready for him. He threw off his clothes, uncaring that it was a two thousand dollar shirt being thrown onto the floor and trampled.

When he was done, he prowled towards the bed, his hand slowing stroking his cock as he smirked at the hungry-eyed Omega. Namjoon slowly scooted up towards the pillows, a task that Taehyung didn't make easy as he loomed over him, crawling right along with him from above.

Finally, he had Namjoon right where he wanted him. Sprawled on his back underneath him, his head laying comfortably on a plush pillow. His neck bared to the Alpha in invitation. Taehyung kissed his favorite part, where neck and collarbone meet, before sucking harshly.

Namjoon bucked underneath him, breathly harshly. When Taehyung pulled off, he was pleased to see the skin already turning colors.

"That's where I'm going to do it. I'm going to bite you right there." The Omega released a whispered "Fuck," and Taehyung smirked with pride.

Taehyung continued his journey downward, kissing a trail down Namjoon's beautiful skin as he did. When he finally his target, he inhaled shakily, the scent of fertile Omega nearly making him crazy. He grabbed Namjoon's cock, rubbing his thumb over the tip to collect a drop of precum. He sucked it off and groaned loudly at the taste before leaning over swiping up the rest with his tongue.

Namjoon gave a strangled groan and sat up on his elbows, staring down at Taehyung in shock. "What are you doing?" 

Taehyung glances up in confusion. "I'm going to suck your cock. Thought that was pretty clear."

"But...why? What?"

Taehyung cocked his eyebrow. "What? Alphas can't suck dick? You work with an Alpha/Alpha pair, so I'm pretty sure you know that's not true."

"I know...it's just...uh...oh FUCK." Namjoon wailed as Taehyung playfully thumbed around the head.

"You didn't think your Alpha was going to be into it."

"Uh," Namjoon stammered, "Yeah, I guess. Most aren't."

"I can assure you that I very much want your little cock in my mouth, and probably anything else that you ever want to do," Taehyung answers smugly before swallowing Namjoon's cock to the base. The Omega whimpered and bucked his hips up.

"Be careful what you promise, Taehyungie, I am a porn star. There's a lot...FUCK...there's a fucking lot I know how to do," Namjoon huffed through shaky breaths. 

Taehyung popped off, wiping his mouth. "I must not be doing this right if you can still get smart with me. I should probably stop bothering you with it, huh?"

"No! So good, Alpha! Sorry," Namjoon whined, trying to move his hips back up to the chuckling Alpha's mouth. 

Taehyung hummed and wrapped his lips back around Namjoon's fat little cock, easily taking the whole thing in his mouth. His fingers trailed down teasingly. He swept a couple through the rich slick and slid them both inside. He let out a pleased groan and pulled his mouth away as Namjoon opened up so easily for him, so warm and wet.

"Fuck. So ready to go, aren't you, baby? Need Alpha's big cock to fill you up?" Taehyung teased.

"Yes!" Namjoon grunted, practically trying to fuck himself onto Taehyung's fingers.

"Please, please, Alpha. Fuck me. Make me yours." Taehyung shivered, wanting to do nothing more.

“Yeah, okay. You've been a good boy for Alpha, so he's going to keep you."

Namjoon whimpered when Taehyung slowly pulled out his fingers, sucking them clean as he crawled back on top of him. He pressed a single, almost chaste, kiss on the Omega's lips.

"Ready, Namjoon? After this, I can't guarantee I'll be able to stop from claiming you." 

"Claim me. Wanna be yours," Namjoon whispered, wrapping his long legs around Taehyung's waist.

Taehyung nodded shakily, dropping his head onto the other's shoulder as his cock slowly slid inside. It felt so fucking good, and Taehyung was trying so hard not to cum already.

His hips began a steady rhythm as he mouthed at Namjoon's neck, sucking little marks on it. Namjoon wasn't wearing that damn diamond collar today, so Taehyung would make him one of his own.

He soon lost himself in a heady rush of lust, knowing nothing but the wet slaps of his skin against Namjoon's, his whimpers and grunts sounding like music to his ears. Nothing else mattered but this treasure underneath him.

As soon as he felt Namjoon tightening around his cock, he started nibbling on that spot again, where neck met glorious collarbone.

"I'm going to mark you now, baby. Bite me too," he grunted, speeding up his thrusts.

Namjoon tightened his grip on Taehyung's shoulders. "Whaa...Tae...Alphas don't..." 

"This Alpha does. I want your bite," Taehyung growled and pulled up to look at Namjoon, who met his gaze with hazy, confused eyes. 

"I'm yours as much as you're mine, Omega. Claim me, baby." Namjoon's smile was as sweet and shy as one could be while they were still getting pounded into the mattress, and he pulled Taehyung close. The Alpha tucked his head down to go back to the spot he'd chosen.

His breath hitched when he felt Namjoon's teeth scrape across his neck, sucking and licking his own little trail of marks. Taehyung felt his teeth descend and he locked his jaw onto his spot. He growled to let Namjoon know he was ready, and just as he felt his knot begin to swell, he bit down.

There was a rush of pain as Namjoon bit him too, but it was overshadowed by the sudden rush of emotion as the bond bloomed to life. Suddenly, he could feel everything from Namjoon. The elation, the fear, the excitement.

He could even feel the intensity of the Omega's orgasm as he shivered underneath him. Taehyung pulled off, licking the mark to clean it before leaning over to kiss Namjoon. They were both uncaring of the tang on their tounges; instead losing themselves in each other.

He finally pulled up and rested on his elbows. "We probably should have done this another way. I have no idea how long we're going to be locked."

Namjoon chuckled, his eyes still closed. "Maybe fifteen minutes. This is fine. I like the weight. You're not heavy."

Taehyung stared down at the newly marked neck of the beautiful Omega, his heart swelling with emotion and pride, even as he shivered, still cumming in spurts as he would for the next few minutes. He looked down at Namjoon's tummy, noticing a slight bulge.

He pressed it curiously, smirking when the Omega whimpered and he could feel himself. "I filled you up good, didn't I? Are you happy?" 

Namjoon hummed, but he still hadn't opened his eyes. "Look at me Omega." 

Namjoon's eyes flew open and met Taehyung's, and he wondered if the Omega could read all the emotions in his eyes as well as he could for him. Namjoon looked soft and well satisfied, both his eyes and their bond broadcasting what felt an awful lot like love.

Taehyung was realistic and knew that's not what it could be called yet, not when they still barely knew each other. He considered it more like a promise for the future. A promise that he knew they were going to be sickeningly in love. Mated happily ever after and all that.

Time flew by as he spent their time tied together lazily peppering his new mate with kisses, and asking his questions to get to know him better. He's never been more proud of anything in his life than learning simple things like that his mate hates vegetables and love cartoons.

When he was finally able to pull out, Namjoon practically started to cry. He looked up at Taehyung with glassy eyes and told him to fetch a plug from the nightstand. Taehyung rushed to find it, nearly tripping over the bed covers as he did so.

He pulled open the drawer, his eyebrows flying up at the sight of the overstuffed drawer. There were tons of things in there, toys and creams, lubes and even a single pair of cuffs. He ruffled through them and picked a nice big plug with a blue jewel at the end.

Namjoon was holding himself up, refusing to let any of Taehyung's cum leave. The Alpha knew this was partly a heat thing, but he thought it would be kinda cute if he did this every time. He quickly slipped the plug in, shushing the fussing Omega.

"It's okay, baby. It's all safe. Keep that warm for Alpha until I can fill you up again, okay?"

Namjoon's eyes looked a little more clear as he shyly agreed. 

"Thank you. Sorry if that's annoying."

"It's not, baby. Namjoonie, you're so cute."

Just as he pulled Namjoon into his arms, fully preparing to cuddle for as long as they wanted, the door flung open wide as a handful of people glided into the room. Taehyung's grip on Namjoon tightened as he snarled at the group, and he leaned over to cover him from their sight.

"Calm yourself. Ugh, Alphas," the man who was apparently their leader scoffed as he turned off the camera and the lights.

Taehyung had honestly forgotten they were there, but now he was excited because that meant he had the first moment he met his mate on tape. 

His nostrils flared as the man came closer to the bed, scenting mated Omega.

"I'm Kim Heechul. I'm that one's boss. Joon? You doing okay?"

Taehyung felt Namjoon nod and peered under his arm to see the Omega's sheepish grin. He mouthed Sorry and shrugged.

"Well, we gave you two as long as we could before we needed to check up on Namjoon, make sure he was actually safe. He didn't use any code words or text, so we didn't think he was hurt, but you never know," Heechul shrugged.

Taehyung was both offended that anyone would think he would hurt Namjoon, and impressed that they apparently had a system for keeping the Omega safe.

 "Alright, so we'll review the footage if you're still serious about working with us, Taehyung," Heechul starts. "We'll send you the original copy once we do and delete what we have of it. It's a first mating and we aren't so heartless that we'd try to sell that unless you'd agreed to do it live or something. Then, we can figure out some sort of plan for your work. I'm assuming you'll only want to work with Namjoon?"

Taehyung nodded vigorously. "Yeah, just him." 

"And are you okay with him filming with others, or does he have to stop now?"

Taehyung frowned at the thought. He hadn’t even thought about that, too caught up in snatching up the Omega himself. But he wasn't some controlling asshole, so he shrugged.

"That's up to him." Namjoon leaned up and kissed his cheek, and Taehyung guessed he must have said something right.

"Hyung, I just want to film with my mate. I'll also be dialing down and only filming on weekends with him," Namjoon answered softly, smiling up at Taehyung.

Heechul sighs but doesn't look very surprised.

"That's alright. Mated pairs still sell really well. Just look and Hoseok and Jimin. We'll have to get another Omega willing to deal with the two of them, though."

"Sorry, hyung," Namjoon frowns.

Heechul pats Namjoon's sex-messed hair, ignoring the low rumbles from the annoyed Alpha next to them.

"It's fine, Joon. Honestly. I knew this was going to happen sooner or later, with either your music or some Alpha stealing you away. I'm happy for you and I wish you both a joyous and fertile mating,” Heechul smirked as he delivered the traditional blessing upon the new couple, snorting when he saw Taehyung’s eyes go dreamy when they landed on the Omega’s slightly distended stomach. 

"For now, let's get you two cleaned up and I'm sure you're starving," Heechul walks towards the people that Taehyung has guessed are his assistants, sending them around in a flurry of activity.

Taehyung suddenly feels a flicker of distress that didn’t belong to him, and Namjoon's sorrowful whimpers finally reach his ears.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

Heechul's gaze pins them both when he hears that, assessing Namjoon carefully. 

"Are you hurt?" 

Namjoon shakes his head and bites his lip like he's embarrassed of something. 

"Don't wanna clean up. Just hand me my clothes."

Taehyung grins, knowing that his Omega is loving being covered in and out with his scent. 

Heechul scowls disdainfully and scrunches his nose at the couple. "The newly mated are disgusting. Fine. No shower. Walk around with cum up your ass for a week, I don't care. At least get dressed."

He flings a pile of clothing that one of his assistants had gathered at the couple, and they hurriedly get dressed - though Taehyung does sneak in a few quick pecks on his giggling Omega.

When they are finally presentable, Heechul and his horde of workers lead them to a buffet table that they keep on set for their employees. Taehyung quickly fills two plates, one completely devoid of vegetables for his mate, and presents it to the waiting Namjoon.

"Thank you for providing for me, my Alpha," Namjoon says cutely as he kisses Taehyung and accepts the plate. 

"If you want to get technical, I provided for you," Heechul huffs as he joins them, setting a steaming cup of black coffee onto an empty spot at the table. 

They soon learn why when a familiar lazy shuffle of a walk echoes behind Taehyung and he leans his head back to smile at Yoongi upside down.

"Hey, hyung." 

"Hey, Taehyungie. You good? Hyung need to knock some sense into anyone for you?"

"Everything is perfect, hyung."

Yoongi nods, granting Taehyung a tiny soft smile. He looked them both over, only showing the slightest surprise at Taehyung's marked neck. Yoongi clutches Taehyung's neck in a slight comforting squeeze as he slides into the seat next to him.

"Where's Jungkookie?" Taehyung asked between bites of cut fruit.

He was thoroughly surprised when Yoongi blushed.

"On a date."

"A date," Taehyung deadpanned, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"With Seokjin."

Taehyung's confusion cleared up quickly and he laughed, knowing that Seokjin was probably already getting the two to dance to his tune.

"Why by himself?"

"Didn't want to overwhelm him with the both of us right away. Kook's meeting him for lunch. I'm taking him to dinner."

"And dessert?"

Yoongi's blush darkened, and he tried to hide it by taking a long sip of his coffee.

Finally, he shrugged nonchalantly. "Dunno. Guess we'll see."

Like he knew they were talking about him (Taehyung wasn't so sure he didn't. He was certain Seokjin was otherworldy somehow), Seokjin sent him a text at that moment. Apparently, Taehyung was being ordered to come to dinner the following weekend with his new mate.

The text continued to say that Seokjin would be introducing "his two mates" as well, so Taehyung was to dress his best and bring some wine. The Alpha chuckled and showed the text to Yoongi, who promptly choked on his coffee. As he laughed, a warm hand snuck its way into his own.

Taehyung glanced over at his mate, the two of them smiling fondly at each other as the conversation around them filtered into background noise. 

"Can I take you home?" Namjoon nodded enthusiastically and jumped up, pulling Taehyung towards the exit.

In the end, Taehyung ended up being ravished in Namjoon's own bed as they somehow ended up at his place instead. He supposed it had something to do with nesting and heat, but Taehyung didn't care.

Because anywhere Namjoon is was home.

[wintersweetbou]

Glaiveweek 2020- Day 6. Scabs to Scars

Day 6 of glaiveweek 2020! @glaiveweek

Prompt: The World has Stopped, Yet it keeps Turning- Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

Summary: Galahd is dead. Its people flee for Lucis, desperate for sanctuary. It is granted, but takes time for the refugees to find a niche for themselves. Nyx and Libertus struggle to find their place where massacre haunts yesterday, hunger threatens today, and tomorrow is uncertain. 

Galahd was no more. Razed by incendiary rounds, crushed by mechs, and anything running in the shadows was shot by MTs, or ripped apart by demons. The people fled their shores, desperate to outpace the robotic tide. No one was spared, not even the children. Not a soul. Those who managed to get out made for the surrounding lands, in waves of refugees. King Regis of Insomnia accepted them graciously, his people did so too at first. 

Slums slowly filled with the survivors, packed and warm and dirty. It was never ideal, but people looked the other way when shoving immigrants into apartments nowhere near up to code. It was a relief, even. To people homeless from war, having a cramped, filthy space to call your own is still a haven. 

Nyx had a plan, at least. It was better than nothing- better than the dull task of surviving the day. To repay services rendered. The king’s retinue had arrived to hold off an assault as a ramshackle fleet of boats, waiting till the last second. Galahadians ran screaming for the shore...the boats couldn't wait...they were almost here...fire, sulfur...crystalline shields, holding them back...Nyx held her hand, dead sprint for the shore. She slipped. Get down, Selena!!!!

Nyx woke with a start, drenched in a cold sweat. Libertus snored obliviously, sprawled over his half of the couch. Nyx struggled to control his breathing, trying not to further disturb the packed apartment. Crowe, a tiny scrap of a female, snarled in her sleep from her armchair nest. Snores and whimpers breathed down the halls from the overcrowded rooms. Nyx calmed slightly at the notion that he wasn’t alone in his pain. Nightmares were beyond common for everyone in the packed halls of the now-christened Galahd District. Days passed slowly, barely numbing the pain of yesterday. Nyx breathed deeply, settling back down. The cheap alarm clock on the side table read three thirty in the morning, just two more hours of sleep if he managed to pass out right this second. Nyx sighed, curling up into a ball. Odd jobs that he and Libs took were not going to cut it much longer. His face smoothed out as he snuggled deeper into the ratty couch, tugging the threadbare blanket about him. Tomorrow they would audition for the Kingsglaive. Rumor had it that the Citadel would accept anyone compatible with the king’s magic. Nyx grinned. Rumor also had it that Galahdians were strangely in tune with the crystal’s power. Today would be a good day. 

And it was. Nyx and Libertus passed the the test, the energy flowing through them rather than burning their veins. The compatible ones were led to an ornate meeting room in the Kingsglaive Headquarters, and told to wait for the examination to conclude. It seemed like every other fit galahdian was trying to get entry- about one in five seemed capable, extremely high percentage compared to the lucian citizenry. 

Crowe walked in, choosing a seat in the far corner, eyes down. Nyx waved, but she didn’t see, or care to respond. 

“She made it, at least.” Libertus shrugged. 

Nyx hummed in assent, glancing about. He recognized a couple of faces in the small crowd, but no names came to mind. He supposed it wouldn't matter. He would learn them if they were going to be working together. Tucking his braids back, he stretched. Libertus yawned, then drew himself up straight. Steps in the hallway, getting closer. Multiple people. The king, his shield, the captain of the glaive, and the newly named Marshal strode in, facing the new recruits.The king leaned forward, addressing his soldiers to be.

“You have shown affinity with the magic of this kingdom. Should you join my service, I will have you named my Glaives. An elite force, to strike back at the empire that burned your homes. I will not stand for this destruction. It is time to push back. Will you join me?” King Regis called, to be met with cheers. The king smiled.

“I’m glad to have you. This might seem rather rushed, as far as career advancements go. Background checks are rather difficult to do with the current circumstances. So I grant you pardon -your slate is clean. A new start- for Galahd and Lucis.” Nyx felt his core warm. This is what he came here for. This is what he wanted. 

“Now, each of you will need to be escorted to be photographed. Paperwork will be your first mission. Then fitting out for uniforms and equipment, and then the real training begins. A one week trial will be given to see if you really have what it takes.Titus Drautos is the Captain, and he will be in charge of training and commanding you. Heed him well. He does not impress easily.”

Drautos bowed at the compliment, and hushed murmuring ran through the hall. 

“Should you gain his endorsement at the end of the week, I will bond you to the magic of my blood. Go with honor.” The king stepped back, met with thunderous applause. He turned and left, leaving their new captain.

“You heard the King. My name is Titus Drautos- captain of the glaive. You are now my new recruits. Today we do paperwork and take measurements. Tomorrow, we see what you can do. Now, first order: Line up in alphabetical order by last name- A’s here by the door. Clerks are on the first door on the left hand side, they will call when they are ready. Return here when you are done. Should take a while. Refreshments and restrooms are on the right. I will be with the clerks if you have any questions. Have a good first day, recruits.” Drautos bowed, then waved for them to begin. 

The recruits rose, wandering to their supposed places. Crowe strode silently over to the front. A slight man with unruly brown hair tapped on her shoulder. 

“Arra?” He asked shyly, not meeting her gaze. 

“Altuis.” She responded, nodding as he shuffled in line behind her. The others slowly filtered in, checking names, chatting quietly. 

“Bellum?” “Behind me- Arra.” 

A young man with brown slicked back hair grumbled quietly, trying to find the L’s. He stepped up and tapped the next guy in line- a tanned stick of a teenager with dark eyes and wild black hair. “Lazarus?” 

“Khara.” The raven replied, stepping forward politely, giving him room to slide in. Lazarus did, and began chatting with Khara. Both stayed very polite, expressing wishes of success to each other in the coming training. Lazarus seemed to have ambitions of making an officer, while Khara was content to see how things went on their own. Neither spoke of their homelands, the burns and scars still freshly healed and very visible.  

Further down the line, Libertus and Nyx parted where the newly formed line wrapped around a corner. From their spots along the wall, they could see the entire room, and could maintain sight to each other without looking too out of place. There were only a few letters between O and U, and fewer people with last names between them. They maintained a quiet conversation of gestures and facial expressions.

 Nyx raised an eyebrow, cocking his head at Crowe, who was being led along with several others down the hall to get IDs. Libertus shrugged. The line shuffled forward, absorbing the space. Time began to crawl.

Nyx scanned the room, switching his weight to the other foot, leaning back against the wall. This was taking forever. Libertus nodded to the clock on the wall scratching his stubble, raising an eyebrow. Nyx shook his head, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. This would take a bit. Not only ID’s, but papers declaring citizenship, papers allowing them to work for deposit, and not under the table as they all had been since they got here. Probably actual bank accounts too. They should be happy to get these papers so quickly, as the office of immigration was a backlog of chaos- too many people to deal with all at once. It was getting better by the day, but it was still months waiting for work papers. Here they were being given out easy peasy. 

Eventually Libertus was called forward, then Nyx. The office was an open space, where clerks manned computers and printers, quickly making folios for the new recruits. Nyx quickly smoothed his hair, and stepped forward for his mugshot. He stared ahead for the camera, expression attentive but neutral. Then he was shooed to the nearest open clerk and began filling out a stack of paperwork of which the likes he had never seen. 

Libertus yawned and twisted, several pops bursting from his vertebrae. It took almost four hours, but the last of the recruits came back- Nyx among them. Libertus waved down his friend, Nyx ambling over through the chatting glaives to be. 

“Captain stopped by- said the crownsguard mess would be providing lunch- then we get measured.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Nyx grunted, then followed as the captain called for his recruits to follow. Lunch was filling, but bland. Galahd knew how to appreciate spice- the spaghetti and meatballs barely had any hint of a kick. It did the job, and Nyx guessed that was all it had to do. 

Measurements went far faster than the paperwork, Ramuh be praised. Quiet conversation rumbled through the armory, recruits pointing to various pieces of armor and weaponry, appreciative and wary at the same time. Nyx joined Libertus in mocking the cumbersome polearms. Lighter spears were the best long weapon- pure speed when used correctly, and with extreme utility at any fighting distance. Nyx glanced at the small arms section with interest- looking at the curved blades. His only blade was back in that shitty excuse for an apartment- hidden at the bottom of his meagre possessions. One blade out of a set...the other blade far from here, on a battered shoreline....

Libertus shook his best friend, worried at the clouded look that passed over his eyes. It happened less often than it used to- every day was progress- but it still bothered the shit out of him, and Nyx’s triggers were inconsistent and hard to identify at times. Libertus squeezed Nyx’s shoulder, pointing at a ridiculous collection of greatswords. Nyx shook himself, and chuckled at the sight. Light weapons, spears, and ambush had been the way to be in the jungles of Galahd. Stealth. Speed. Precision. Those were the tools of the hunter. 

Drautos called them back into the meeting room as the last of the clerks packed up. 

“Today you did well. Being able to take orders quickly and quietly is a hallmark of a good soldier.  Tomorrow, after a quick physical, we test your capabilities. Wear something you can move in- sweats and tees are good for now, plus a water bottle. Full range of motion will be noted- and be sure- for the love of the gods- to note any allergies, food and medical. We almost lost someone to a peanut butter sandwich. I refuse to let a sandwich kill any glaive.” 

The group snickered. A sandwich was an inglorious death, but hilarious to note afterward. 

The captain led the group back out, towards the Citadel entrance, giving instructions to return here at 7am sharp. The group murmured its assent, and dispersed into the ever present crowd in the Citadel Square. Nyx and Libertus walked along slowly, talking about what magic felt like. Nyx got takeout, while Libertus got drinks. They reconvened at their tiny shared apartment- kids scampering in the halls, Crowe nowhere to be seen. 

“I worry about her, sometimes.” Libertus muttered through a mouthful of rice. 

“More like always. You have a thing for her, or what?” Nyx slurped on his drink, fluttering his eyes. Libertus shoved him. 

“Nah. I just...she doesn’t have anyone, other than us. Remember when we found her, on the edge of our village?” Nyx nodded, munching slowly. Emaciated, filthy. 

“I just want better for her. She feels like a little sister…” Libertus mumbled into his stir fry. Nyx stilled, trying not to sink into painful thoughts. Crowe did deserve better, and Libertus was a good man for wanting that. But still- uphill battle. She did accompany them, but getting her to talk was a challenge. It was getting better- but still. She had the nasty habit of lashing out at things that moved in ways she didn't like- but it did keep her safe all this way, even here in Lucis. Creeps who tried to grope her on the subway left with bruised ribs and clawed faces, if they were lucky. She had a mean hook and her knee had almost neutered a dude who thought he could cop a feel off a refugee free of charge. 

“Give her time. We are all dealing with the clusterfuck of what happened.” Nyx sighed, sipping. Libertus exhaled impatiently, then shrieked as a hand descended on his shoulder. Nyx jolted, then burst out laughing. Crowe smirked, appearing from nowhere, stealing several fries from Nyx. 

“I can handle myself. Little sister this.’’ She flicked Libertus painfully on the forehead with a nice crack. He recoiled, cringing and grumbling about unfairness and cruelty. Crowe tossed her dark hair, relishing her stolen fries, settling into her armchair- covered with cheap fluffy throws. Nyx chuckled at Libertus sulkily rubbing his head. Warmth settled in his chest, soft and soothing, where it hadn't in a while. Subconsciously he knew what it was, even if he couldn't bear to acknowledge it. That calm you get when people who care for you are around. Family.

The physicals passed uneventfully. Weight taken, height measured, blood pressure noted, sample taken. Nyx was unaware of any allergies he had- medicine or food. He was healthy, reflexes good. Range of motion good for a man his age, needs to stretch more, but who doesn’t? The doctor gave him a form clearing him of restrictions, clean bill of health, and instructions to make a copy to keep, and one to go in his folio. 

Nyx made his copies and dropped them with a clerk, jogging over to the main group of recruits milling about the arena, waiting for the captain to announce the next activity. From the looks of things, running was in his future. A glaive was taping off lines around the arena, clearly labeling a track. Nyx grinned. He could run, and so could Libertus, if not without grumbling about it the entire way. Libertus was more of a weights kind of guy. The captain called the group over, and began the next section of testing.

“Each of you will need to keep a log of your training. After today, notebooks and smart watches will be provided for you to log resting bpm, workout bpm, weight reps, and activities done. The goal here is to hone you into the best version of yourselves, and teach you to maintain that. Today is just an introduction into that. The rest of the week you will be joining the other glaives in their workouts- so they may teach you how we do things, and see if you can keep up.” Drautos read from his clipboard, checking off names. 

“Light jog around the perimeter- warm up.” 

Nyx loped off, finding an easy rhythm. Crowe tapped his shoulder and jogged up, shoulder to shoulder. She moved effortlessly, and Nyx relaxed into the movement further at her calm. This was something he could do for hours, and she seemed to be of the same thought. Quiet and decorum could be accomplished, and even enjoyed in small doses. But movement was a simple joy, action soothed the snarly, spiky bits of thought that could wander in when he was inactive. This was meditation. 

They ran side by side, picking up the pace as the captain called for it in intervals, enjoying the smooth simplicity. The group broke up, different individuals having different strengths. Nyx and Crowe ended up firmly in the middle of the faster individuals, along with that Khara kid and several others. The middle group was the biggest, working at keeping the pace a little harder, but keeping it nonetheless. Most just watched as the Lazarus dude bickered with a redhead named Tredd about what weapon style was best.  ]

The last group composed of the larger recruits, those being more strength based, rather than dexterity. It wasn’t a bad thing, to be slower. Heavy hitters were needed too. The group noted that Drautos didn’t reprimand the slower group, but encouraged them to keep a steady pace. It was a good start on his part in growing loyalty. It was grown, not given. 

Libertus blew Nyx away in the weight room, benching well over three hundred pounds. Nyx could bench his own weight, but not much more. His upper body needed work, along with core and glutes. He was still growing, barely twenty one. The meat hadn’t yet settled on his bones like Libertus, but it was getting there. Provided he started eating better, getting more meat with meals. Nyx couldn’t wait for a proper salary...he could get his own apartment, and have snacks…

“ Time to go, hotshot.” Libertus chuckled, tossing Nyx his jacket. They made their way back, once again getting cheap takeout stir fry, and settling in for an early night. Something told them that joining the real glaives would suck, and that they would need all the energy they could get. They were right. 

By the next afternoon, the newbies were aching all over. Resistance training focused on overloading muscles to build them stronger- and overload they did. The real glaives were nuts- the military branch was new, but Ramuh, they were no slouches. Even without touching magic and combat practice, they blew the recruits out of the water. Back at the apartment Crowe dropped into her chair with a moan, falling asleep almost instantly. Libertus followed quickly, snoring immediately. Nyx chuckled, limping over, tucking each of them in. He would have to visit the elder down the hall- she made medicine in Nyx’s village, the old recipes that made powerful balms and liniments. Flopping into his spot Nyx thought about the coming days and shuddered. It was just the beginning. 

Days faded into each other, the new glaives too tired to really let it sink in. The week passed, and they became official glaive trainees, with official glaive paychecks. The three of them got their first apartment together, thankful to be free of the kids running underfoot, and crocherty elders demanding their attention at all times. It was still small and dirty, with truly awful water pressure, but soon it felt like home. Crowe found colorful paper lanterns, and with some cheap string lights, it made a living room without proper wiring feel festive. Libertus stocked the kitchen, properly cooking meals, with the necessary heat, thank you very much. Nyx was happy to get his own room- he really was- but he missed the comfort of knowing Libertus was right there, should nightmares get the better of him. The thought bothered him, until one night he realized that no matter the thickness of the walls, Libertus’s snoring would prevail. He would never be free of the six-damned snoring. 

They grew, in their own ways. Libertus hardened- his arms, neck, and torso showing what he spent his training on. He was upset that his belly didn’t shrink, but the combat sessions showed that that may have been a good thing- a strong core with padding makes you difficult to push around. He settled in, confidence blooming. Libertus regained his cheer from before the genocide of his people, mostly. There was a sharper edge to his temper, and dark moods that were not there when they were kids. But life continued on. He tried new recipes in the meantime, having Nyx and Crowe test them out. It was pretty good, with one notable flop that had everyone fighting for the bathroom. That recipe was burned by Crowe the second she recovered, after wresting open every window she could find.

Crowe, now being fed properly, blossomed. She was still slight, but was stupid quick and flexible. Her dagger skills were amazing, and her magic affinity was proving to be something terrifying. Crowe bonded with the rest of the glaives, keeping them on their toes. The lesson was learned quickly, don't try to mess with her, you’d end up bleeding. But befriend her, and she would keep you laughing with wit and sarcasm. And the pranks. The unending pranks with the other glaives. It got so bad once, most of the glaive were afraid to open doors and cabinets, for fear of silly string and glitter bombs. The glitter never came out all the way. 

Nyx filled out slowly, gaining strength on top of his speed, endurance from nonstop aerial warp tricks. His shoulders broadened, and his arms gained some definition. He was happy, more than he had been in a while. He had an apartment with friends, a nice job, and steady income. The routine was stabilizing- having a clear expectation of what the days and nights would bring, and what was expected of him. The nightmares still happened, but less and less often. When Galahd burned, he felt the world had stopped turning. But here he was. Still alive, and growing stronger by the day. Nifelheim should fear them. They were coming. For hearth and home.

[eternallyboundfamily]

I Hate Everything About You: Chapter 5, written by @DarkLoverLost & @DelicateDeviant

Wrath:

As it turned out, V had me get dressed so he could take me somewhere. Where, I wasn’t sure. I was assuming it was back to the scene of the crime to relive my mistakes. That would be just like V.

No one else seemed to be interested in coming. It used to be, if I left the manse, there were at least two Brothers that flanked me at all times. I guess that was another dagger in the gut, proving that I was no longer looked at as the King of our race.

The car ride was insanely quiet. Fritz often didn’t say much, anyway. So, I wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t talking. But, V… V seemed as if he had a whole dictionary of things to say, although he was being tight-lipped. I had stopped talking after V had told me at the manse that if I didn’t get in the SUV, he would make sure to let the doggen know that I no longer wished to keep my Sire’s throne and to burn it out back with the rest of my things in the office.

V knew how to punch so it hurt. There wasn’t much I valued in this world, but my Sire’s throne was definitely one of them. LW was another. But, V knew way better than to threaten him. So, he had gone with the next best thing.

When the car stopped and I listened to the sounds outside of the window, I didn’t hear the normal hustle and bustle of the red light district. I heard the normal sounds of a somewhat urban area of Caldwell. I looked at V with narrowed eyes, completely unsure of where we were and what we were doing here.

Whicked:The apartment was quiet,  Lana was out at work and technically since the explosion at the bar I was unemployed as there was not much of a bar left.  I padded through to the kitchen dressed in my pj bottoms and a tank.  Didn’t feel like getting dressed today since I didn’t have to be anywhere.  I put the kettle on to boil and snagged a mug from the shelf and plucked a mint tea bag from the box.  Leaning up against the counter I hummed along to an advert on TV while I was waiting for it to boil.  When the kettle was done, I poured the scalding liquid into my cup and headed back to the sofa, ready to catch up with the latest episode of a series I was watching.It  was pathetic,  it had only been a few weeks since the explosion and me pulling Wrath out of the rubble, feeding him my blood and meeting some of the Brotherhood and already I was moping about the apartment like I have nothing better to do, wondering why I hadn’t heard from any of them,  not even a “Thanks for saving my life” card or text!  I picked up the paper that Lana had left lying around not so subtly open at the jobs page and checked out the vacancies.

Wrath:

V didn’t miss a beat. As soon as the car stopped, he swung open his door and got out. “Out, my Brother.”

Side-eying him the whole way, I slid out of the SUV on the passenger’s side. “Where are we?”“Caldwell.” Was the only answer I got before he started walking towards the building. When I didn’t follow, he stopped, turned and said three words, “Your sire’s throne,” and swung his arm wide, directing me toward the apartments.

“God damn, motherfucking, psycho!” I could see that this was going to become a thing. Note to self: as soon as I get back to the manse, make sure the doggen know, the throne stays, no matter who says what! Reluctantly, I followed behind. “Are you at least going to tell me what we are doing here?” I asked as we approached a set of elevators, inside the lobby.

I could tell V was giving me a once over, as if deciding if he wanted to tell me now, or just wait until we got where we were going. Then he turned and entered the elevator.Following him, I was getting pissed. Yes, I had done something that V and the rest didn’t understand, but I wasn’t a fucking leper! And I wasn’t some little kid that needed to get dragged around by his ears to show him his mistakes.

As the elevator started to slow at the floor of V’s choosing. I slammed my fist into the ‘Stop’ button and turned to look at V. “Why are we here, V? And your tongue better start wagging, or so help me!”

Whicked:

I tossed the newspaper to the side, seeing nothing that I was even remotely interested in.  I only needed something to tide me over until the paperwork the King signed off was closed and I could go to the bank manager at the First Bank of Caldwell and get my loan signed off, and finally open my own club!  I had a little savings and with Lana still working there was no reason we couldn’t cope till that happened.

I sighed a heavy sigh and snuggled back deeper into the couch, I checked my phone and saw a message from Lana telling me she was going to be home late, so I should just go ahead and eat myself…..again.

I scoped out the time on the wall clock and pushed myself up off the couch.  OK, I was gonna pop down to the local Chinese and get some food and come back to watch the late horror movie.   I walked through the apartment to my room and got the fleece that I came home with from the Brotherhood’s compound and picked up my purse, heading for the front door*

Wrath:

“We’re here to see the female that saved your life. You’re going to properly thank her, in person, like you should have before she left the compound.” Was V’s no-nonsense reply.Now, I was fuming! V had no idea why I had no interest in ever seeing that female again, and I wasn’t about to explain it to him, but I also was not going to go along with this. “No fucking way, man!” I turned back to the panel and pulled the ‘Stop’ button back out. As soon as we hit the floor, I planted myself back to the entrance and hit ‘G’ for ground. “I am not getting out of this elevator, V. Not on your life!”

I could hear the doors sliding shut behind me and V threw his foot in the way. “You either get out of this elevator, right fucking now, and go thank that female, or you don’t deserve that throne you are so desperate to hold on to. And, trust me, if you don’t do this now, the whole of the Brotherhood and I will see to it that you never sit on that throne again. You have made some really stupid choices lately, true? Don’t make this your worst.”

Whicked:

I closed the apartment door with a click and shoved my keys into my purse.  Thankfully the closest chinese was only a block away so it was quicker for me to go get it than to get it delivered.  As I made my way down the hallway I could hear raised voices,  raised male voices, and one that sounded exactly like Wrath.  I paused where I was and heard what sounded like Vishous shouting at the King.  Oh this was bad…this was really bad.  

What the hell were they doing here in my building? Just as that thought left my head, I remembered that I was in my PJ bottoms and slippers.  Oh shit…! My life just kept getting better!  Maybe if I was quick I could get to the fire escape stairwell before they saw me, then I could avoid what was bound to be a very awkward sitch on both sides.  

I hurried down the carpeted corridor, my slippers shuffling along.  I curled my spine, making myself seem small, wrapping my arms around my torso.  I lowered my head and looked up under my lids checking the corridor intermittently.  The coast was clear, but the voices seemed like they were getting closer.  Was it just me getting closer or where they coming my way after all?

I was almost there,  only another 50 steps or so and I could sneak out the door and they would never see me and vice versa. 40 steps…..35….SHIT!  2 pairs of black shitkickers appeared at the end of the corridor, followed by the huge bodies of the King and Vishous.

Wrath:

The thought of losing my crown dug in deep. I was surprised by how much the thought of it had me spinning. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have cared if the whole race wanted me off that throne, but now… now, it was a different story. It was almost as if it and LW were the only two things keeping me going anymore.

 It had been a constant for so long that I had never thought about being without it. For years I didn’t want it, but it had been my birthright, belonging to no one but me. Then, after I had decided to take on the role, I actually discovered I enjoyed it. After that, the whole of the race had actually voted me in as their choice to be their king, until I was no longer capable. That was a high honor I had not taken lightly. I had, however, taken it for granted. Now, having it taken away from me was a real possibility, and that thought pretty much had me floored. I turned to V, “You wouldn’t dare.” I gritted. But, his unresponsiveness told me they had already discussed it and this was my test. I either get out of this elevator now, and go thank the female that saved my life, or I was going home, a useless no one. No longer a Brother due to my sight, no longer a hellren, and no longer a king. The only thing I would be able to claim would be father and I hadn’t been much of that in a long time.

Begrudgingly, I stepped out of the elevator and started down the hall. I swear, my feet sounded as if they would hammer right through the floor as I stomped down the corridor. V followed sure footedly behind me. I could feel his grin burning into my back. He was smug about getting his way on this. He was always smug about getting his way, but today he was even more smug.As we neared the end of the hall, I scented the female we had come to see. What the fuck?! Had V told her we were coming and called ahead to have her waiting on us? I turned toward V and gave him a look that screamed, “You’re an asshole!” Then turned back to the female in the doorway. “Annalee.”

Whicked

:I kept my head down, hoping against hope that they wouldn’t notice me and I could slip through the door unseen, but as soon as I heard my childhood name pass through the lips of the King, I knew that hope was lost.  I paused and looked up at Wrath and Vishous as they barrelled down the narrow corridor toward me,  Wrath looked pissed and Vishous just looked like a smug asshole, as always.  I nodded to Vishous and straightened my spine,  I felt completely conflicted seeing Wrath again.   Part of me hated the sight of his grumpy, unrelenting ass but the other side felt like a stupid pre-trans,  giddy with excitement about seeing the Male she crushed on. I shook my head softly, trying to clear it before I spoke to the hard ass pair before me* “My Lord, how…..uh nice to see you again.  I am glad to see you back on your feet again”.  

*I chewed on the inside of my cheek trying to keep my tongue in check and not piss Wrath off any more than he seemed to be.  I moved closer to the fire escape door, ready to make my move,  surely they couldn’t be here to see me, right?   I am sure they were tracking a Lesser or something like that.  It must just be a coincidence,  because I am sure the King of the Race, is not here to say thank you for saving him…..2 weeks later!  If he wanted to do that,  the Brotherhood has my number,  he could have called or text or something…right? “If you guys could excuse me I am just on my way out…..?”

Wrath:

A massive whiff of the female wafted up into my nose. This was no ordinary female. There were things about her that threw everything in my world off its axis and that pissed me off even more than the fact that V had forced me here. This was the only ‘her’ that Beth could have meant. ‘Welcome her…’ Fuck that! I was not going to welcome this female anywhere, much less into my life. I was here to do one thing. That was it. Then I was going back to the manse and getting on with my life.

My non-existent fingernails dug into the skin of my palms as I stood before this female, my body stiff as a board. I was afraid to move, for fear that I might move one inch closer and her scent might get that much stronger. This was not happening. Beth. Beth. Beth. I started a chant in my head. I would not allow this female to get under my skin.

Gritting my teeth I thanked her for the well wishes and began, “I, uh… I owe you a debt of gratitude for what you’ve done. So… Thank you.” I turned back towards V and threw my palms up, in order to see if that was good enough to get me out of here.

“You’re an asshole. You know that?” Was all I got in response.

Whicked:

I could tell Wrath was uncomfortable being here,   clearly this visit was not his idea.  V was looking from Wrath to me like he knew something that he wasn’t prepared to let either of us into.  My eyes roamed over Wrath, taking in all the changes in him since the explosion and the feeding after.  He looked whole, healthy but he still had that haunted look on his face.  I wondered what his eyes would hold.  Rumour was they were the most amazing shade of green, not that I would ever know.  

I traced the carpet with the tip of my slipper anxiously,  waiting for someone to say something.  Wrath straightened up and I could see him stiffen as he prepared to talk,  his scent changed, giving off waves of light anger,  finally he rushed off an insincere spiel about thanking me for saving his ass.  

As he turned away from me, clearly feeling that he had done whatever V had brought him here to do, he raised his hands as if to say “There,  you happy now”?  V glowered at the King in a way that only he could do and I heard him call Wrath an asshole,   how true that statement is!  My blood was boiling,  how dare he be so disrespectful.  I lost my job,  I risked my life to drag him out of that burning and rubble strewn alley,  all for what?  This poor excuse of a thank you.  Fuck I would have preferred a fucking text message!

“You thank me?  You thank me for saving your fucking life, do you?  The rumour is that you wanted to die out there, but here you are being fake as fuck and thanking me for saving your shitty life?    Well….you know what Wrath,  I don’t accept your thanks!  You can take your fake thanks and ram it up your Kingly ass!   Now how about you do me a solid and get your fucked up ass and your goateed sidekick out of my life,  and stay the hell out of it?  

Wrath:

The fire in this female ignited something in me that I’d never experienced before and I swung back toward her before I even realized I had done it. Taking two steps into her, I could feel her breath on my chest, as I towered over her. “You’re right.” I growled, “I didn’t want you to save me that night. I didn’t want anyone to save me. I wanted to be left alone and allowed to drift off into the Fade. Instead, your ass found me and decided that you would be a hero and save the fucking Blind King. I was so fucking close I could taste it! Actually, from what I was told, I succeeded, until you decided to thrust your wrist down my throat. Do you have any idea what it is like to finally be standing at the doors of the Fade, your one true love standing in front of you, only to be ripped away from her?! So, pardon me for being an ungrateful, sorry son-of-a-bitch, but you took me away from my end-all, be-all.”

I turned back to V and stepped away from the female. “You fucking happy now?! Did you expect this to go any other way? You should have just had Saxton mail some thank you card with my royal stamp on it, or something. This has been a shitshow ever since stepping out of that elevator.” The fucking nerve of him, dragging me out here to do something he should have know I wasn’t interested in doing. Sure the female saved my life. Why should I be thanking her for that? I didn’t want my life saved. I found my way back over to the elevator and hit the ‘Down’ button.

Whicked:

I stood my ground as Wrath stepped closer to me,  ignoring the aggression washing off of him and over me.  He was trying to intimidate me, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to let him.  I squared up against him and I could sense that Vishous was worried where this was going to go,  he took a step in towards us. 

 There was no need for him to intervene however,   Wrath said what he needed to say and he said it in front of V and I.  At the mention of his Shellan however, I blanched.  I knew what it was like to lose someone you loved, I am sure that if he knew what happened to my family and my proposed Hellren he would have toned back his little rant.  I really wanted to let him have it with both barrels,  my anger still running through my veins but slowly dissipating.  I gave him all I had left.

“You think you are the only one who ever lost someone Sire?  You think you are the only one who watched their family die at the hands of Lessers?” Out of the corner of my eye I could see Vishous flick his diamond eyes my way and I knew that he knew my story,  sorrow filled his face and he dropped his gaze, I nodded slowly as tears flooded my eyes,  thoughts of my Mahmen, Papa, younger sister and my betrothed danced through my mind,  memories that I thought i had under lock and key.  The dam broke and I used it to shore up my reserves of anger, angry tears replaced the sorrow ones already shed.    “I watched my entire fucking family die, the Male that helped me through my transition,  the one who I was so excited to marry.  All of them dead,  bodies burned.  My family never made it to the Fade!  At least you know your Shellan is safe and waiting for you when it is your time to die,   who is waiting for me?  Get off your high horse Wrath and open your eyes…..the world does not revolve around you,  or your dead Queen!”

I ran then,  straight down the fire escape and into the darkness of the night beyond.  Fuck I never meant to say that, but he pushed me too far!

[sluttyprincessinarizona]

"Damn!"

Shouta cursed sharply, forehead against the door to your home in defeat. His hand gripped the doorknob, gritting his teeth when it didn't budge under his grip. Locked.

Shouta forced his tired body away from the door, turning away from the annoying piece of wood keeping you from him. He took two steps, breaking into a run and flying into the air with his capture tool. He zipped away through the midnight sky, plotting his plan for tomorrow.

You removed your hand from over your mouth as he left, snickering silently at his frustration. 'Better luck next time, Shou' you thought cockily. This had occured how many times? At this point, you wondered if the male would ever catch you. How had he not cornered you yet? Wasn't he the king of stealth and sneaking around? Your arms stretched over your head, taking a deep breath and venturing further inside to double check all the doors and windows. You knew that Shouta started playing dirty when he gets desperate, and he is definitely getting desperate to catch you. You giggled victoriously, doing your nightly routine and settling into bed with a goofy grin. 'Good night Shou!' You thought teasingly, knowing he could practically hear your teasing voice in his brain.

'Night brat. Be ready to hide tomorrow.'

✨Time skip✨

Shouta's long, calloused fingers tapped idly on the table, staring blankly at the screen in front of him. His eyes flickered down towards his watch, his fingers moving faster as his heart beat picked up in excitement. His mind raced, mulling over his plan again and again. He was going to win this time. Today, he was going to corner you.

'10 seconds.' 10 seconds until the meeting ended. Shouta put his head down, feinging fatigue. His coworkers would think nothing of it, which aided him greatly. When the meeting ended, everyone would rush out of the room, while Shouta stayed seated. He'd get up slowly, waiting until everyone left. Then, you and him would be the last ones there. Unfortunately, he had left some extra paperwork for you to finish. It was easy, but tedious, and he knew you had trouble working for long periods of time. A low blow, for sure, but he had to win somehow.

"Alright, that concludes this meeting. You all are dismissed."

Idle chatter. Chairs moving and shoes on a carpeted floor. Shouta, smirked ever so slightly, taking his time to stand up and stretch his body. He eyed you out of the corner of his eye. Buried in your work. He rolled his eyes at your dedication. He gets that your a hard worker, but come on. You're practically giving yourself to him, which was unusual for you. 'Don't tell me she's got something up her sleeve too.'

He shook his head, moving with the crowd of adults to press against the wall. Admittedly, he did look childish, attempting to blend in with the walls of the room, but this was the closest he had gotten to winning, and he had no intention of letting you slip away this time.

He crept closer to your seated figure, securing his place behind your chair with a dark look. He hunched over you, bringing his hands up to scare you on top of your capture. A double whammy, as you would so often put it. He was seconds away from pouncing on you when your phone went off. You jumped, grabbing the phone and answering casually.

"Hello?"

A few seconds later you jumped up, Shouta jumping back in turn before you headbutted him. You talked frantically into the device, grabbing at all of your papers and rushing out of the room before Shouta could register what had happened. His shoulders slumped and he stuffed his hands into his pockets, trudging out of the meeting room wearing a deathly scowl on his face. 'Damnit! You got away again?!' Reaching his office, he fell into his seat and took a few seconds to think of a new plan, before begrudgingly getting back to work.

The next day, Shouta knew you both had the day off. He still had night patrol but a few hours was all that he needed. Luckily, you had ordered a package that was supposed to arrive sometime today, and Shouta saw that as the perfect opportunity to catch you off guard.

He scoped out your house y the greenery that surrounded it, eyes never leaving your front door. He waited, and waited, and waited.

.........

'Now.'

Shouta sprung into action, making his way to your front door as soon as your package was delivered. He knocked twice, and waited. Your excited giggles reached his ears from inside, and he moved out of sight from your peephole, patiently waiting for you to open your door. Your door swung open, and you barely registered your package below you when your head snapped towards Shouta, eyes wide and frantic as realization hit you.

You lost.

In a flash of grey, Shouta had wrapped your body in his scarf and pulled your body back in the house, locking your door behind the both of you.

He held your squirming body upside down in the air, waiting to see if you'd stop resisting. When you didn't let up, he sighed and unwrapped your body. You landed on your feet, jumping up and rushing to flee from him. He stepped in front of you, catching your body with his larger one and holding you against him.

"No no no, little girl. You're not getting away from me again."

You fought endlessly, pushing against his chest and stomping your feet childishly. He chuckled at your display and stepped forward, overwhelming you and forcing you back with him.

Your body pressed against the door, flinching at the sheer force of his hands caging you in. You froze, chest heaving with heavy breaths and defiance burning in your gaze.

Shouta leaned into your ear, moving his solid forearms beside your head to intimidate you.

"You lost, kitty cat. You know what that means, don't you?~"

You shivered at his tone, hands on his chest to keep at least some distance between your bodies.

"No way, Shou. Winning the chase doesn't mean anything. You never said I had to give you anything if you won."

Shouta laughed, low and deep in chest. He towered over you, grabbing your chin to force your gaze to his.

"Oh no, I did. I said that I wanted you."

You blanked.

"What- what does that mean?"

His hand slipped around your throat, squeezing ever so slightly and pulling a shaky gasp from you.

"Well, you never asked for me to specify, but what I meant was that I want you. Your love. Your submission. Understand now?"

Your face flushed bright red and you pulled weakly at his hand around your neck.

"N-no way! I can't-"

His grip tightened, leaning in and grazing his teeth along your neck with a primal growl.

"You can and you will."

Whimpers fell from you as you clawed at his hands, clenching your thighs to distract yourself from his overpowering presence. Your mind spun rapidly and your knees shook, threatening to give out from pleasure.

"You'll give yourself to me, right, my little kitty?~"

You nodded mindlessly, feeling high from his body against yours and his hand around your neck. Your breath got shorter and shorter, wanting nothing more than to get on your knees and please him.

"Good, good girl, kitty cat~ Now..."

His other hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled it towards his straining erection. He let out a groan as your hand brushed it.

"I've been waiting for days to catch you. My cock's been hard all this time, aching for you to touch it~ So what's gonna happen is-"

He pulled you into a heated kiss, rutting his hips against your hand.

Pulling away, he stared you down, daring you to even think of rebelling.

"You're going to get on those pretty little knees, open your mouth, and let me use you. Okay, little kitty?"

You mewled pathetically at his words, tongue lolling out of your mouth in a shameless display.

Shouta snickered at your already fucked-out expression. "I'll take that as a yes then."

His hand released your neck and he watched you fall to your knees. You looked up at him, scratching at his thighs with a needy look on your face.

"Oh kitty cat~"

His hand threaded through your hair, his grip tightening at your pathetic demeanour.

"I'm going to absolutely fucking ruin you~"