#he has the order watch over them from afar

[nerdpoe]

Little Zuko and little Azula love Lu Ten. They love Lu Ten so much, they successfully smuggled themselves into Lu Ten's baggage when Lu Ten left to go fight.

Lu Ten, meanwhile, finds out that his little cousins snuck along for the ride way too late.

He knows they're gonna lose the fight.

He isn't about to let a couple of little kids die like that, murdered by Ba Sing Se soldiers too hyped up by war.

He may have been prepared to put his own life on the line, but he's not sacrificing Zuko or Azula's. But he also knows that if he flees the field with them, then Ozai will absolutely use that as an excuse to "punish" his own children.

Lu Ten does not want to know what that punishment entails. He is, in fact, more terrified by whatever it may be than the literal war raging outside his tent.

So.

So.

He swallows his pride for his country, his love for his father, and his dreams of being a successful general.

He grabs the kids, fakes his death, and runs.

[starboyshoyo]

Courting, Pining, or Flirting? 

Characters: All NRC students x reader (seperately)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland 

Genre: fluff

Do the NRC boys court you, pine for you, or flirt with you? 

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle Rosehearts will do his best in courting you. Raised to be strict and formal, he has virtually no idea of what love is, or how to express it. The best he got was the fairytales of princesses and knights in his childhood. So he’ll follow their lead to the best of his ability. Riddle will give you his blazer jacket, and take your arm in his when navigating crowded hallways- he’ll even bow to you when saying goodnight, placing a tender kiss on your hand. Riddle might need a bit of a confidence boost before he performs a moonlight soliloquy under your balcony, though. 

Ace Trappola, unsurprisingly, enjoys flirting with you. What can he say, he’s a fun-loving guy! That extends to all parts of his life, including you. When the two of you are watching movies on his laptop in Ramshackle Dorm, he’ll tug the blanket away, forcing you to cuddle up to him for warmth. One day in class, a crumpled paper ball will hit you on the shoulder, reading: DO YOU LIKE ME? YES/NO ;) It’s childish, but somehow endearing.

Deuce Spade, ever the gentleman, will try (keyword: try) his best in courting you. His mom didn’t raise a brat! Listening to her advice, he’ll buy you flowers, ask you out on the weekends, and drape his jacket over your shoulders when you get cold. It’s a lot less smooth than it sounds, though. He’ll be a blushing, stuttering mess the entire time and accidentally spill his plans to you before he can execute them. Then he’ll apologize and spill even more of his plans- and alas, the cycle continues. 

Trey Clover is surprisingly good at flirting! Trey is confident in his ability to charm people. Even the most uptight of Prefects tend to relax a little around him. Of course, the delicious handmade pastries he often brings along with him are just a bonus. They’re an easy way to strike up a conversation with you, getting you to spill more and more about yourself to him. He’s comfortable to talk to, isn’t he? Oh, is that baked good your favorite? Expect a box of them to show up on your desk within the next week, along with a coy little note: Sweets for the sweet. 

Cater Diamond, on the surface, is definitely into flirting. He chases anything and everything within a fifty-meter radius of himself, and giving his posts on Magicam so much as a comment will result in a Hey cutie ;) popping up in your DM notifications at 1 AM. But with a person that Cater truly loves, face to face, he won’t do anything more than stay by your side as a supportive friend, pining from afar. He’s afraid of messing this up. Do you even see him that way? Please say you do. 

SAVANACLAW

Leona Kingscholar does all three, in the order of pining, courting, and flirting. Hear me out: Leona pines, but not in a hopeless way. Instead, he just figures that he doesn’t have the time or emotional investment for a relationship. But once the feelings began to grow, Leona gets desperate. He doesn’t want opportunities to slip through his fingers without doing anything. So he’ll begin subtly hanging out with you more, until it reaches the courting stage. At that point, he becomes visibly softer and less harsh around you. He’ll only really be comfortable flirting and being playful with you once you’re in an established relationship, not before. 

Ruggie Bucchi is into casual flirting- Well, he’s into it until he realizes he’s fallen so hard that he can’t climb back out. It’s all fun and games to him at first. Oh, you want to pet his ears? Maybe trading that cookie of yours from the lunch buffet would be suitable collateral. You think he looks good in the PE uniform? There’s more where that came from. Want him to accompany you on a late-night errand? Of course! He loves spending time with you- Wait, when did that happen? 

Jack Howl follows his sharp instincts on everything, and every sign is pointing at him courting you like a true gentleman. He knows he’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s got no problem cleaning his act up for you. Putting on a suit and tie and using a bit of gel in his hair and around his ears is a small price to pay for your affection. He’s not particularly shy about showing you he has feelings for you, but outright telling you might take a bit more time and effort.

OCTAVINELLE

Azul Ashengrotto is painfully, unequivocally deep in pining for you. There’s just no way around it is there? Oh, what he wouldn’t give to crawl into his tako pot and hide when you’re around. You’re on his mind every second of every day, and he lays in bed every night wondering if you see him the same way. Is he handsome to you? Is he smart? He wants to hold you so bad but he won’t do it until you tell him yes, I like you too, first.

Jade Leech, ever the calm, collected one, excels at smooth flirting. He just knows you like him as much as he likes you, and he’s not afraid to point it out. It’s not like you’re subtle about it either- with the way you sit in a corner booth of Mostro Lounge for hours, just to be able to talk with him after-hours over leftover pastries and tea. You wouldn’t mind if he did this with you more often, would you? 

Floyd Leech has his unique way of flirting, just like everything else in his life. You’re just so exciting, Shrimpy! Won’t you tell him a little more about your day? Even just the little things, like how many pages of notes you took in History of Magic class or an answer to a test question or two- he’s kidding, he’s kidding! All jokes aside, Floyd truly does enjoy your company and the ways you spice up his life. 

SCARABIA

Kalim Al-Asim does none of the three, surprisingly. He’s so bright it might not even occur to you that he’s interested until you’re already three layers deep. He’s always been a friendly person, so when he begins inviting you to hang out all the time, you wouldn’t give it a second thought. It’s only when you notice him trying to do things for you rather than just with you do you realize his feelings might run a little deeper than just friendship. He tries to be chivalrous, but it usually just comes off as him playing at being your prince charming. The closest you could get to describing what Kalim does is playful, friendly courting- albeit a very unconventional form of it. 

Jamil Viper is used to never getting what he wants. Somewhere along the line he stopped trying. So when you step into his life, shining but not blinding like Kalim, he hesitates. Is he ready to take such a risk? All he knows for sure is that he wants you in his life… someday. So quietly, in between classes and in the hallways, he’ll be pining for you from afar- hoping you’ll make the first move, so that he won’t have to worry about Kalim whisking you away.

POMEFIORE

Vil Schoenheit thinks he has never met someone so beautiful before. You might even be half as beautiful as he is! It’s a huge compliment coming from someone like him. You’re also half as smart, almost as strong, and maybe he’d consider taking you out for lunch- but don’t get it twisted! He’s doing this out of the goodness of his heart. (He likes you. He really likes you. Please date him.) It’s not very good flirting, but he’s trying his best.

Rook Hunt is flamboyant and genuine in everything he does, which includes flirting with you, his longtime crush. You have the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen! Would you mind if he admired it for a while? He’ll brag about you to everyone around him, much to the irritation of Vil, who finds it offensive that his biggest supporter has ‘betrayed’ him for another. Rook doesn’t care, though. If you so pleased, he’d be more than happy to walk you to your next class. Anything to bask in your unmatched beauty just a few seconds longer. 

Epel Felmier is good at flirting, and he’s confident about it too! A rough and tumble farm boy like him needs a cute thing on his arm to show off, doesn’t he? Don’t laugh at him- he’s trying to impress you. He’ll do anything he can to prove to you that he’s a strong, capable person and your perfect match. Let him carry your books, and serve you in the cafeteria buffet line. When you share a snack together, he’ll lean just a bit too close, letting his cheek brush against yours before pulling away. Come on, look him in the eyes! Or are you too shy~

IGNIHYDE

Idia Shroud has never met you in real life. You’ve never seen his face, but he’s seen yours through the camera of his tablet at housewarden meetings. Maybe it’s the pent up stress speaking, but wow, you’re way out of his league. Best to make casual conversation and repress his pining over a game of online chess, lest he screw it all up in real life. 

DIASOMNIA

Malleus Draconia is a lonely soul who knows little more than a life of isolation. When you walk into his life, unafraid of the twisted black crown that sits on his head or the ominous aura that seems to surround him, he has to wonder if after all these years he’s finally found his soulmate. Immediately, he wants to make plans to see you every day, to listen to you ramble about anything and everything beyond the briar walls around his castle. Stay a while and talk with him, won’t you? Malleus is the true definition of patience and indulgence when he’s courting you. 

Lilia Vanrouge isn’t one for mere high school relationships. He’s a father and a general! He’s got a teenager to raise and armies to lead, on top the infamously heavy homework load from NRC classes. You’d have to be really important to him to find a place in his ancient heart. Sure, he’ll have his fun with flirting and all, but no one can really expect a thousand-year old fae to fall in love… right?

Sebek Zigvolt is shocked, no pun intended. There’s no way a fae like himself has fallen for a mere human! No, he won’t accept it. Sebek will turn in somersaults and bend over backwards to make any excuse on why he is not in love with you, he’s just a bit agitated today! Ironically, he makes things harder for himself with this mindset, condemning himself to pining for you from afar. 

Silver, like his name, wants to be your knight in shining armor- he’s just not quite sure how to go about it yet. He supposes he’ll ask for your parents’ permission to begin courting you, first. That’s the tradition in the Valley of Thorns after all. But when Lilia points out that it’s a bit old-fashioned, he’ll simply agree and go along with whatever terrible plans the rest of Diasomnia comes up with next. Be prepared to be barraged with an awful yet endearing mix of pick-up lines, cheesy love letters, and classic romance songs that this quartet comes up with in their free time. The best thing? Silver himself won’t even be awake for half of it. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[srjlvr]

[ LET’S GET MARRIED ! ] — lhs <3

PAIRING. lee heeseung!student X femreader!student !

SYN. the uni is giving away free dorms! under one condition, in order to save your desperate broke ass student’s life, you’d have to get married. and who’d be the lucky person to marry you if not your childhood friend? no feelings involved of course!…..right?

GENRE. he fell first but she fell harder, basically being in denial for feelings at first, childhood friends to a married couple, fluff fluff fluff !

WARNINGS. mentions of getting married(obv), rest of enha and lesserafim’s yunjin & chaewon are in it too, mentions on having kids(no, there will be no kids here its nothing serious!!), mentions of food, being broke because of uni student life. (pls do lmk if i missed something!) || NOT PROOFREAD AND VERY POORLY WRITTEN!!

WORD-COUNT. 5.1k+ (damn!)

NOTE. this is me being extremely sorry for not continuing my heeseung smau by releasing a heeseung oneshot yay!! i actually got the inspiration from HAPPINESS (one of my fav kdramas!) please leave some feedbacks!! i really wanna know what you thought about it<3

when you were younger, you’ve made a wishing list to you in the future, as soon as you turn an adult.

three important wishes were ;

first, never go broke while being a uni student.

second, never get married before the age of 25.

third, never ever fall in love with your best friend since childhood, aka lee heeseung.

first one is already being a huge failure. younger you would be definitely disappointed in uni student you, not that you care that much, but being a broke student sucks.

“my parents are literally about to kick me out, i get that, i’m a 22 years old uni student who’s still living up their asses, they probably want some peaceful and quiet life” you smacked your head over the lunch table, both of your friends looking at you concerned.

“maybe it’s time for you to pay for the dor-“

“never! yunjin, tell her how broke i am”

“she has like 1 dollar in her bank account, she’s still taking loans from her parents” yunjin nodded and you rolled your eyes.

“you didn’t have to go that far”

“oh i did”

“oh i know! what if you just start working?” chaewon raised her voice a bit.

“i have no time!”

“excuses excuses blah blah blah” she mocked you.

“look at heeseung for example, he works in a part time job at the convenience store right next to uni” yunjin pointed out.

you searched through the lunch hall and found the one person you’ve been looking for, lee heeseung.

you’ve been stuck to him ever since childhood, with your mothers being the biggest best friends you’ve ever seen, it was pretty hard to not see him every day in your young days.

both of your mothers even got pregnant at the same time, and gave birth around the same time, you’re two days younger than him.

your photo album is full with pictures of you and him, and so are the hanged photos on your house wall.

your mother and his mother were your biggest shippers, forcing you both to hug each other and even wear matching clothes.

your elementary school memories are filled with heeseung next to you and the whole class shipping you two.

highschool days weren’t better either, guys who wanted to try a move on you were always so scared of heeseung, they were so sure you and him are dating, with the amount of glares they got from him it was really hard to think otherwise.

your highschool crushes rejected you, always giving the excuse of not wanting to be in a relationship, hiding the fact that heeseung warned them that if they’ll say yes he’ll make sure they never see a daylight again.

he was joking, really. he’s not the violent type, and he couldn’t really explain why was he feeling so jealous whenever he saw you confessing to a guy who isn’t him.

heeseung got used to watching you from afar and protecting you, and you got used to search him everywhere you go even in crowded places and having his company ever since childhood.

“hee!” you called and waved at him, he waved at you back with a smile on his face.

“i swear if i didn’t know both of you were childhood friends i would’ve think you’re a married couple or something” chaewon rolled her eyes and you scoffed.

heeseung continued his way to his usual table with his friends.

“thinking about ways to confess your love to her?” jake smirked and heeseung shook away his thoughts.

“hm? who?” he asked.

“it’s obvious who! don’t play dumb come on!” sunghoon playfully pushed the older one.

“we’re talking about Y/N! everyone in uni are talking about you, even those who know nothing about the two of you” jay remarked.

“there’s nothing between us, we’re just friends” heeseung shrugged.

“and i’m queen elizabeth” sunoo tsked.

heeseung rolled his eyes and began to eat, “you know, even if i did have a crush on her, why would she even accept my confession?”

“ohhhh~” his friends teased.

“it’s kind of obvious she likes you, we’ve watched her ever since we became friends with you, and the way she looks at you is just different” jungwon shrugged and ni-ki nodded.

“she’s always searching you in a crowded room, as if you’re her guardian angel and she only needs you in her life in order for it to be perfect” ni-ki then stole a few bites of heeseung’s meal.

“hey! not cool” heeseung scoffed and ni-ki giggled.

“it’s not bad to have a crush on your childhood friend, you know?” jake smiled, “sometimes all you need is a miracle” jay added.

“hey, let’s go on a work search for yo-“

“no no no yunjin not you too!!” you sobbed, “i have no time to work and i need to search for the cheapest dorm, a one i can actually afford as soon as possible”

“why don’t you just go and ask heeseung for help” chaewon shrugged.

“it’s not that easy, i don’t want him to worry about it too much, he works hard for his money too” you pout and they nodded.

“by the way! how’s the money for the uni dorms is going?” jake asked heeseung who was busy fighting with ni-ki over his food.

“i’m just a few shifts away from getting enough money, i’ll ask y/n to become my roommate as soon as— what?” he noticed his friends looking at him.

“y/n and you? being roommates?” sunoo teased.

“hey, me and y/n spent all our childhood together, my house is her house and her house is mine, it has been like that for a while” heeseung sighed and they all nodded hesitatly.

“still, you said y/n’s parents told you about her not being able to pay for the uni dorms, are you really willing to pay it all?” jungwon asked.

heeseung shrugged and took a bite from his food again, “it’s either that or she’ll get kicked out by her parents”

“you really are her guardian angel” ni-ki whispered.

“good morning! you have afternoon classes today right?” your mother woke you up with a smile smeared all over her face.

“mhhm” you hummed, still trying to adjust the bright sunlight that hit your face.

“i need you to bring some medicine for ms lee! she’s been sick and i bought her some things” your mother helped you to get up and shoved you a bag, “here”

“can you please just let me get—“

“you can get ready at theirs! quickly quickly go!” she pushed you outside of your house. damn, she really does hope you’d get out as soon as possible.

she was right though, heeseung’s house is your house, and your house is his. you have a few clothes and even a toothbrush at his house and he has the same at yours, getting ready there was never a problem to you.

a walk to their house is even less than 5 minutes so you weren’t worried about someone from your neighborhood getting a jumpscare and thinking you’re some kind of a zombie.

you took out the keys and opened the door, heeseung was sitting in the kitchen and eating his breakfast.

“don’t ask, been a rough morning, where’s mom by the way?” you asked him and he pointed at her room. you got used to call his mom your mom too.

you saw her sleeping so you left the bag and the medicine next to her, leaving a note saying good morning and instructions of how to take the medicine, as if she doesn’t know all of that.

“you have afternoon classes too?” you asked heeseung while getting ready. he was in his room, lying on his bed while playing some games on his phone.

“not really, i don’t have any class today” he chuckled.

“since when don’t you have any classes today?”

“ever since i decided that im too tired to go to uni”

you rolled your eyes and threw one of the pillows at him, “don’t be stupid! get up and get ready to go!”

he giggled and shook his head, “i’m joking, i took evening classes for today”

you pressed your lips together and nodded, you don’t know why but hearing him giggling always made your heart skip a beat, but you don’t have any feelings for him, like, at all. right?

afternoon classes started and before you knew it, it was already lunch time.

“y/n! you won’t believe it!!” chaewon shout.

“what is it?” you shout at her back even though you were sitting right in front of her.

“i found you a solution! you can get a free dorm!” she shout back.

“what!” you shout.

“can you stop shouting! for god’s sake you’re literally a 1 cm away from each other” yunjin, who was covering her ears yelled.

you and chaewon shared an eye contact and froze. yunjin is so scary when she’s angry.

“continue please” she coughed and let chaewon continue what she had to say.

“it might seem crazy what i’m about to say,” chaewon sighed, “the uni is giving away free dorms—“

“no way omg omg omg please tell me i’m dreaming this is not happening right now right this is not real righ—“

“under one condition!” she cut you off and took her phone out of her pocket to read the terms.

“in order to get a free dorm, you have to have at least one option applied ;

one, you’re younger than 18. two, you’ve been scoring A+ on ALL of your exams and three, you’re between the ages 18-25 and got married, or engaged” she finished reading and turned off her phone.

“but chaewon, i’m not younger than eighteen” you complained and rest your head on your arm who was lying on the table.

“nor scoring A+ on ALL of your exams” yunjin added.

“thanks yunjin, i needed that”

“always here to help”

“then you know what’s left” chaewon smirked and you sat up, looking at her with innocent eyes.

“no” you let out.

“oh yes”

“i have no one to marry to” you argued.

“yes you do!” yunjin replied.

“i do not!”

chaewon and yunjin raised a brow and crossed their arms, “you don’t?”

as heeseung entered the uni entrance, you ran towards his direction and stopped in front of him.

“y/n why are you still here—“

“let’s get married” you said it out loud in front of everyone who was around.

your surroundings suddenly became quiet and everyone was staring at you two, starting to whisper and waiting for heeseung’s answer.

instead of answering he grabbed your wrist and dragged you out of the entrance into a place in the garden next to the uni.

the walk there was making you so nervous and anxious, what if you were a bit too much? asking your childhood friend to marry you just to get a free dorm? are you that desperate?

when he finally stopped, he let go of your wrist and cupped your cheeks, looking straight into your eyes.

“what did you say?” he asked, his eyes looking for any sign or answer from you.

“i said, let’s get married”

heeseung could’ve swore his heart skipped a beat because he for real felt like he died at that spot.

“let me explain!” you said before he could respond.

“the uni are giving out free dorms to anyone who’s between the ages of 18-25 and is married or engaged” you sighed.

heeseung let go of his hold and sighed, looking down and closing his eyes.

you really didn’t mean that genuinely, did you? something in him really hoped you did.

“hee?” you asked, biting your lower lips, suddenly feeling more anxious than before

“sure, let’s get married” he chuckled.

you broke your second main wish on your list.

heeseung was just a few shifts away from getting enough money to get the both of you a place to live in, he could have told you that too, but he chose not to.

only crazy people would agree to this idea, you were so desperate that you actually just asked him to marry you, and he guessed he was one of those crazy people, because he had no idea why he said yes.

he had other way, without marrying you, but something about the idea of marrying you made him feel excited.

“i knew it i knew it! only crazy people would agr— wait what” you blinked a few times after you realized his answer.

“i said sure, let’s get married” he smiled softly and you were about to faint.

“no feelings are involved….right?” you hesitantly asked him, hoping he wouldn’t agree with you.

instead, he nodded slowly and hesitantly, “no feelings involved”

you regretted that sentence so bad because the day after, when he kneeled on one knee and held a ring out for you in front of everyone and proposed to you, your couldn’t lie to yourself anymore, you actually broke your third wish on your list a few years ago, you were in love with lee heeseung for years.

“y/l/n y/n, i have loved you ever since i can remember, i watched you grow up and grew up with you as well, i got used to being with you 24/7, i can’t see the rest of my life without you in it, will you make me the happiest man alive and agree to marry me?”

even though it was an act(according to you), it felt so real to the point where you cried and sobbed so badly, while putting on the ring he bought for you less than 24 hours ago.

it wasnt planned. the proposal wasn’t planned at all.

the plan was that you and heeseung will go to the uni secretariat and request an application for the free dorm since both of you are engaged now.

heeseung had no reason to put on this whole show and show everyone that you’re now engaged. you have no idea why he did it, and instead of getting angry at him, you fell in love with him even more.

it felt wrong, it felt not right.

but you didn’t care, you always knew your feelings for heeseung were somewhere deep inside your heart. you tried to push them away all the time, because there was no way your childhood friend, the popular boy in your highschool, the kid who grew up with you, had feelings for you.

you tried to deny your feelings but now you realized thrre was no use anymore, so you let yourself love him as much as you can.

it wasn’t the desperation that lead you to ask him to marry you, because then you’d ask literally any other guy, it was your pure love to him, to the guy who was always there for you when you needed him.

“heeseung! explain what was that!” his six other friends gathered in a circle, surrounding him and not letting him go.

“what was wha—“

“you and y/n? married?” jungwon shout.

“have you gone crazy?” jake added.

“and she said yes! something is not right” jay joined.

“yesterday you told us you have no feelings for her!” sunoo remarked.

“you didn’t even believe us when we told you she’s obviously in love with you” sunghoon tsked.

“something isn’t sitting right to me” ni-ki gasped.

“explain now!” they all said at the same time.

“calm down!” heeseung coughed, “i’ll explain to you everything later”

by later he meant after classes, at his house, together with you and your friends yunjin and chaewon.

“yunjin, chaewon” heeseung nodded at your friends.

“lee heeseung” they glared at him.

“come on! both of you knew about it even before” you pleaded.

“doesn’t change the fact that he’ll be stealing you from us now” they rolled their eyes.

“i’m still so confused” ni-ki tried to quicken everyone and get to the point.

“me and y/n are getting married—“

“yeah no shit sherlock” sunghoon cute him off and heeseung glared at him.

“anyway, y/n would you like the explain why?” he turned to you and smiled.

“the uni is giving away free dorms to married couples between 18-25 so—“

“you decided to get married to get a free dorm” jay finished your sentence.

“have you gone mad? heeseung worked his ass to get enough money to get the dorms for the bo— mhhhhmmm!!!” sunoo roamed but jake covered his mouth before he could continue.

“sunoo!!” jake coughed and turned to you with a smile, “don’t mind him he’s been stressed from work and uni lately”

the rest of you giggled awkwardly and tried to ease the atmosphere.

after you yunjin and chaewon left, the boys stayed with heeseung, looking at him with concern.

“what?” heeseung looked at them back with his bambi eyes.

“i don’t know hee, it feels like….she’s kind of using you” sunghoon spoke, jay slapped his arm and he whined.

“he’s right though, marrying you only to get a dorm is quite crazy” jungwon nodded.

“he’s even crazier for actually agreeing to all of this” ni-ki said and jake shushed him.

“ni-ki is right, i am crazy, i have no idea why i said yes but she wasn’t forcing anything on me” heeseung shrugged, “besides, i’ve liked her for so many years so—“

“ah ha!! we knew it!” they all said at the same time and heeseung sighed. what have he got himself into?

after everyone left, heeseung texted you, asking you to meet him in your usual spot.

you got ready and for the first time, you took a while to do so.

you stared at yourself in the mirror a few times and even checked different outfits. this has never happened to you ever before, especially not when you knew that you’re going to see heeseung.

heeseung saw you at your worst, why are you dressing up for him now then?

“i must be crazy, crazy crazy!” you shook away your thoughts and got out to meet your soon-to-be-husband.

“hee!” you saw his back facing you and as soon as he turned around you froze.

did he dress up for you too? why does he look so breathtaking suddenly? his bambi eyes match the rest of his beautiful features on his face so much, you’ve seen this man grow up, you know every detail about his face and you couldn’t explain why it was so sudden that you got caught by surprise because of his beauties.

shaking away your thoughts, you walked closer to him and smiled.

“hey hubby” you grinned.

“hubby?” he asked.

“a new nickname for my soon-to-be-husband” you chuckled and he nodded.

“i actually thought about something,” he turned to you, “our parents will figure it out sooner or later, should we tell them the truth or—“

“no, let them believe we’re getting married without any reason other than being in love”

you have no idea why you just said that. but you hid your face as soon as you realized what just came out of your mouth.

heeseung felt too flattered and suddenly didn’t know what to say. you keep on making him speechless.

“ahem,” he cleared his throat, “you do know that they’ll probably rush out things and even take the wedding plan to their own hands“

i don’t care, i’d like to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you as soon as i can. is what you wanted to say, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

“y/n?” he asked. he noticed you were too deep in thoughts and waited for you to come back to sense.

“i’m aware” you nodded, “i’ve also got a text from the uni, we’ll be getting our dorm in the next week, so we should start preparing”

heeseung nodded and looked at you. you were suddenly feeling so nervous and shy to share an eye contact with him, so you broke it as he just kept staring at you and taking in your beauty.

“hey y/n” he said, “hm?”

“i don’t mind marrying you and spending the rest of my life being married to you”

you looked over him and he had the genuinest smile you’ve ever seen.

it felt like the world had froze, and the snow that was falling suddenly stopped, it felt like it was just the two of you in this whole world.

“YOU’RE GETTING WHAT?” your mother yelled.

you and heeseung planned a dinner with both of your parents, to announce the big news.

things became quite awkward between the two of you, ever since your last encounter with him you could barely face him.

his sudden confession freaked you out and the only thing that came out of your mouth was “oh, okay” in the most dry way ever.

you wanted to tell him you feel the same, you wanted to tell him that you’ve been in love with him ever since forever. but one moment that caught you off guard ruined your chance.

you were stupid, stupid and idiot. heeseung probably thinks you hate his guts now.

heeseung in the meantime felt like he was breaking apart slowly. oh, okay?? that’s all you had to answer?

he felt dumb, he felt hopeless. the confession was completely out of the blue and unplanned, your beauty hypnotized him and he was so mesmerized by you that the words just came out of his mouth naturally.

what if you hate his guts now? what if he made you uncomfortable? what if you’ll regret it the last minute because you weren’t feeling the same about him?

all of those questions were eating him alive, and you didn’t help either. each time he came up to you, you were suddenly in rush and told him you have to go, it was breaking him inside slowly.

the dinner was one chance to finally talk with you again.

“married, mom. we’re getting married” you repeat what you already said a few seconds ago.

“when? where? how?” heeseung’s mother asked.

heeseung looked at you and smiled warmly, “it just happened, we’ve been together ever since childhood, it already felt like being in a relationship for so long, so we decided to marry each other” he chuckled and held your hand tightly, “to belong to each other until the day we die”

your parents looked at the both of you. you were sharing eye contact for so long, with heeseung smiling at you, looking deep into your eyes, and with you looking at him with nothing but pure love in your eyes that was making everyone in the room feel so jealous of you two.

“now kiss!” your mother said.

you and heeseung broke the eye contact and blinked a few times.

“what?” you asked.

“kiss then! i want to picture it and keep it in my photo gallery forever!” his mother added.

you were about to speak up until heeseung held your cheek to turn you to face him and it was only a matter of seconds until you felt his lips on yours.

it was your first kiss ever, your first time kissing someone, and it was his as well, but he lead you on so good that it made it look less awkward.

you were his first kiss. you, his childhood friend, stole his first kiss.

“we knew that it’ll happen one day!!” your mothers cheered, “we even have a whole wedding plan ready!!”

you and heeseung broke the kiss and shared an eye contact again.

you didn’t need to hear him say to know how much love he holds for you, and how he cherishes you so much.

and your eyes told him everything, they held the answers to all of the questions that bothered him. you love him as much as he loves you.

“i can’t believe you’re getting married, my little angels” your parents cried altogether which made heeseung let go of his hold on you and grab some tissues to wipe their tears.

“i love that ring by the way! heeseung you did a great job” your mother gave him thumbs up and he chuckled.

if only she knew that it was a ring he bought you in less than 24 hours and even rushed your friends to come with him and help him pick it only because he wanted his whole life to properly propose you.

it was a moving day already and your parents helped you pack every last thing, they even cried through the way, how could their princess leave them so fast?

“you can visit our house anytime!” you tried to comfort them.

“we’ll update you before that, we don’t want to catch you while doing the thing you know” your mother winked and you rolled your eyes, “mom!”

“i see you’re all packed and ready” heeseung came in to check on you.

“she is! take her away already!” your mother complained.

“not before you take this with you!” she went away for a few seconds and came back with a huge wrapped photo frame.

“don’t open it yet!! only when you get into your new house and get everything in place!!” she excitedly hugged the both of you and you nodded.

moving in was quite rough, you had a lot of boxes to unpack and organized, and you and heeseung never felt more awkward after the first kiss you shared.

you’ve barely spoke with each other and your friends were starting to get concerned.

“he told me he doesn’t mind marrying me and spending the rest of his life with me” you pout.

yunjin and chaewon shout and giggled, “girl! he’s more than in love with you!! he’s lovesick!!” they both said.

“what did you answer then?” yunjin asked.

“i told him okay” you smacked your head on the table.

“no way” chaewon gasped.

“yes way” you whined.

“you’re stupid!!” they both smacked you.

“then!!” you shout, “we had our first kiss on dinner in front of our parents” you whispered that part.

“what did you say? couldn’t hear you” chaewon said.

“oh she said that they shared their first kiss on dinner with their— YOU HAD YOUR FIRST KISS WITH HEESEUNG??” yunjin’s eyes widened.

“what happened after that?” chaewon asked curiously.

“we just finished dinner, and now we barely even talk” you sighed, “each time i see him i’m just blushing and running away, i can’t face him!”

“you have to!! you’re moving in soon!!” yunjin argued and chaewon nodded.

“it’ll be the death of me” you sobbed and they chuckled.

you were right at first, but slowly and surely heeseung made a joke and both of you got back to normal in no time, as if nothing happened between you two.

you even helped him organizing his closet and his room, and he did the same.

after a long day you and heeseung finally laid down on your now shared sofa.

“it’s been a rough day” you sighed.

“should we order something?” he suggested and you nodded immediately. you ended up ordering your favorite food.

“let’s open up the picture!!” you said and grabbed the picture your mom gave you earlier today.

you and heeseung both unwrapped it together and revealed an old picture of you and heeseung hugging each other with a huge smile on your faces.

“look at us then and look at us now” he giggled.

both of you hanged the picture right above your sofa and kept staring at it for a while.

“hey hee,” you spoke, “yeah?”

“i wouldn’t mind marrying you and spending the rest of my days with you too” you turned to him, “until the day i die”

“is that your way of telling me you love me too?” heeseung froze for a second. you caught him off guard for the countless time already.

although he understood very clearly your feelings after you shared your first kiss, hearing your words made his heart beat fast.

it was a confirmation for him that all of his feelings for you were actually mutual all this time.

instead of answering his questions you grabbed his shirt and kissed him.

he put his hands around your waist and pushed you closer to him, holding you tightly as if he’s too scared to let you go.

breaking off the kiss was hard, but the lack of oxygen was kicking in, you pressed your foreheads together, still with your eyes closed.

“does that answer your question?” you giggled and you felt him smiling.

“i don’t think so, i need a bit more of it to feel certain” he teased and you tsked.

“i don’t need to be in a relationship with you to feel certain about my feelings and my willingness to marry you, i want to spend my life with you, i love you” you said and pecked his lips.

“i love you too, y/n” he pecked your lips again and it suddenly got into a fight between you two about who pecks the other more, until it ended up in a long, deep kiss.

“so let me get this straight. you and heeseung had been in denial for many many years and manipulated yourself into thinking that you don’t like each other at all at all, then when y/n’s desperate and broke ass heard of a chance to get a free dorm by getting married, she went up to you, heeseung, and asked her to marry you, you agreed to the proposal because at one point you stopped lying to yourself and realized you’re actually lovesick, and the rest is history” ni-ki finally breathed out after almost rapping this whole story.

“by history i mean y/n waking up from her denial and realizing her feelings to you” he added.

“yes, exactly” heeseung nodded and you chuckled.

you were sitting together with your friends on one table, yunjin and chaewon who were already aware of the story added a few notes here and there as ni-ki summarized your whole story.

“this is a story to tell your children” jay smiled and the rest nodded.

“we’re not planning to get pregnant anytime soon, we didn’t even have a wedding yet” you sighed.

“you never know y/n, you never know!” sunoo slowly nodded.

“why did you say that as if you went through something familiar” jungwon teased.

“you never know y/n, you never know!” sunghoon mocked sunoo.

“that was a good one!” jake laughed with him.

“children, literal children who found themselves in uni somehow” you sighed.

“at this point we won’t even need to have any children when we have them” heeseung agreed with you.

“it doesn’t matter, as long as i’m with you” you smiled and pecked his lips.

“get a room you two will you!”

PERM TAG-LIST ; @sungwhoonz @ohdudehesflirting @unlikelysublimekryptonite @deobiis @manooffline @miumiuoi @in-somnias-world @lovelovelovebts @filmofhybe @wonbinsnovia @daegutowns @aurumiee @soobywon @dhriti-stories @ariadores @firstclassjaylee @watamotee33 @moons-v (bold means cannot be tagged)

••• copyright © srjlvr all rights are reserved.

[greg-montgomery]

Friends to lovers with hotch. Bau!Reader has been pining forever but is deciding to move in after seeing Aaron and Beth be with each other. New guy also happens to be a single dad with a boy in jacks grade. Jack is not happy about another boy stealing his mom figure yk? Father son duo working together to get the girl.

Tbh idc what you write coz its always good. And im a sucker for jealous hotch ALWAYS

okay can i just say that when i saw this ask i got obsessed with the concept immediately!!! like that’s so cute???? also while writing this i was thinking “jack is such a little sweetie he wouldn’t have an attitude” but then i thought of this tiktok and remembered he can actually be salty af <33 LMFAOO

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Buddy, what’s wrong?”

Jack hadn’t spoken a word the entire ride from school. Aaron was used to his bubbly sweet voice filling the car, telling him all about his day; so the silence was deafening.

“Nothing,” he replied, dropping his small bag on the floor and running to his room.

The truth was, Jack had been pretty moody lately and it was all because of you. Well, it wasn’t your fault of course, but it was your absence that had Jack throwing tantrums in a way he never used to before.

As Aaron’s best friend, your presence in his house, in his home, was a constant. Movies, dinners, board game nights…Jack had grown used to you. And he absolutely adored you.

When Beth came into Aaron’s life, though, things started to change. You were pulling away from him, from them. At first, Aaron thought that maybe you were jealous; and if that was true, he would drop Beth in a heartbeat and run into your arms. After all, she was only a distraction to him in order to get over you.

All those dreams of him were shuttered one day, when he had called to ask you if you’d join him and Jack for a movie night, only to be told you had a date: a date with the dad of one of Jack’s classmates. You told him the two of you met when you went to pick up Jack from school one day, and Aaron cursed the moment he had asked for your help. If he knew the dads there would be all over you, he wouldn’t have let you set foot into that damned school in the first place.

“Jack?” Aaron said, knocking on his door.

“Go away!”

“Jack, please talk to me. I want to help.”

There was a long pause before Jack finally opened the door and let his dad in.

“What did you do to her?” he asked with tears in his eyes.

“Buddy, what are you talking about?”

“Y/N. Why isn’t she your friend anymore?” Jack looked incredibly sad and it broke Aaron’s heart.

“We’re still friends,” he answered, softly. “What makes you think we’re not?”

“She’s never here anymore.”

“I know,” Aaron said. “But that doesn’t mean she’s not our friend anymore. We’ve just both been busier than usual.” He wasn’t technically lying, but he still felt bad.

“Why couldn’t you get together like they do in the movies?” Jack raised his voice. “Now she’s with Charlie’s dad. And she packs Charlie lunch and makes him sandwiches that look like dinosaurs like she used to do with me! It’s not fair, she was ours first!”

Well, that explained why he was so mad after school today.

Aaron couldn’t find any words to say, and how could he when he was just as jealous as his son? Jack was right; you were theirs first. And they’d win you back.

--

“And dad told me we’ll go get ice cream later with Y/N!” Charlie exclaimed, but Jack did not share his enthusiasm.

“Okay,” Jack answered, rolling his eyes.

“And maybe we’ll go to the movies after. She said she loves watching cartoons! She doesn’t think they’re boring like all grown ups,” the kid continued, not realizing he was making Jack upset.

“I know, we watch cartoons all the time together,” he replied.

Right next to them, their fathers had a separate conversation, but very much similar to theirs.

“The kid loves her already,” Charlie’s dad, Nick, said, watching you from afar. They were all waiting for you to finish your little chat with that teacher friend of yours, so they’d finally leave the school building.

“And how can he not, I mean she’s so great,” he added.

“She is,” Aaron agreed, though gritted teeth.

“I’ll take them for ice cream now so they can bond a little more. This girl loves ice cream.”

“Yeah, I know.” Who did that guy think he was? Thinking that any detail about you would be news to Aaron. Of course he knew you loved ice cream. He knew you better than anyone. Anyone.

“Sorry!” you said, walking fast towards their little group. “I hadn’t seen my friend in a while.”

“That’s alright.”

“It’s okay.”

Aaron and Nick talked at the same time, which ended in them sending annoyed glances to each other.

“Well, we better get going then,” you said with a smile.

As all of you walked out of the building, Aaron heard you telling something to Nick and Charlie. “Can you wait for me in the car? I’ll be back in a minute!”

To Aaron’s surprise you approached his car with one eyebrow raised. Oh no, you were mad.

“Y/N,” he said, but you cut him off.

“Why are the two of you being mean to Nick and his son?”

“We’re not mean to them,” Aaron said, but Jack’s voice was louder. “Because we hate them!” he said.

“Jack.”

“What? It’s true. You said that Mr. Nick is ugly and a jerk!”

“Jack, language!” his dad scolded him.

You turned your gaze to Aaron. “Is this true?”

He sighed, in defeat. “Jack, can you please get in the car? I want to speak with Y/N.”

“Fine,” he said, and followed his dad’s request.

“So?” you said when you were finally alone.

“So…I may have said some things about Nick.”

“Why?” your soft voice asked.

“Because, I can’t stand the thought of him with you. God, Y/N, I can’t do this anymore. I want you. I want you to be mine. I wanna be the one who takes you for ice cream and the one who brags about you to the other dads.”

“Aaron…”

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way-”

“Of course, I feel the same way, you idiot,” you said. “But then Beth showed up and I thought it was one sided!”

“Beth’s in the past.”

“She is?”

“Yes. She didn’t mean anything to me. It’s always been you,” Aaron admitted.

“Wow…” you said, placing your palm on your forehead.

“Yeah…”

“Well, I have two people waiting for me in the car right now. And I don’t want to just  blow them off.”

“I understand.”

“I’ll talk to Nick tonight. I promise,” you said, touching his hand. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Aaron smiled.

“She touched your hand,” Jack said with a smirk when his dad got back in the car.

Aaron stared at him through the rearview mirror with furrowed eyebrows, but Jack could read him very easily. So he just giggled.

--

“Ew!” Jack yelled, his face forming a disgusted expression at the sight of you and Aaron kissing.

“Hey, you got your wish!” Aaron told him. “You should be grateful.”

“You know what I think?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“That our little Jack is jealous because he’s not getting any kisses.”

“No!” he giggled, as you and Aaron chased him, ready to cover his chubby cheeks with sweet kisses.

[artaxlivs]

This is ridiculous.

Eddie has important stuff To Do. He's a busy rockstar with a never ending list of stuff his manager and agent keep reminding him that he needs to get done while he's not on tour.

But. His house is being remodeled. And one of the carpenters or handymen or journey...men? journey people? whatever. One of the dudes in a tool belt. Well - he's hot as all hell and Eddie can't seem to find a single fuck to mark off that To Do list.

Every day this man shows up in jeans that hug his ass, a tool belt slung low to one side and this pristine white polo shirt with a logo over his left pec. The other people - people not men because there are actually three women in the mix, all with arms that could crush Eddie, and if he was into chicks, he'd be looking respectfully - are all in various dark colored shirts with a similar logo on the back or in the same spot on the chest.

But White Polo is the only white polo. White Polo must be in charge. He does seem to give a lot of orders. He's got big sexy hair and a strong voice. The first time Eddie was close enough to hear him talk, he had some feelings about that strong voice giving orders. The kind of feelings he explored later that night in his own bed. Alone.

It's not a mean voice though, not aggressive. Rather, it's the kind of voice that steadies you in a storm, that you can rely on. The kind of voice that probably sounds gravelly and sleep mussed on a Saturday morning. The kind you want to wake up to. The voice that Eddie wants to wake up to.

And it's not just the voice and the looks. It's the competency, too. Earlier this morning, White Polo was helping the crew put some kind of wood frame up. He hammered something in and then twirled the hammer and stuffed it in the tool belt all without looking. That was going directly to Eddie's spank bank. Maybe he could find other things for them to remodel so White Polo never has to leave.

"Mr. Munson?"

Eddie startles, almost dropping his Garfield coffee mug. There's a lot of noise in the house and he was sort of doing one of the things on his list. Writing a song in his head. It was definitely not about a man in a tool belt. Nor was it about anyone getting nailed.

Jesus Christ.

Clearing his throat, Eddie turns to White Polo, "It's just Eddie."

"Well, Just Eddie, I'm Steve." His voice is soft, strong though, with that little bit of gravel. It's not Eddie's fault at all that he's imagining him whispering in Eddie's ear when they're both sleep warm and too comfortable to get out of bed. "Looks like we'll be done here in another two days."

"Oh." He says dejectedly, not meaning to have such an honest reaction but he can't help himself. He's wasted three days just glancing at White Polo - Steve - from afar. Now Eddie's on a time limit. Two days isn't nearly enough time. Would it be inappropriate to invite him to dinner? Or to stay? Ask him for --"Coffee?"

Steve smiles and it's kind of small, like it's a secret smile, just for Eddie. Brushing his hair back over his ear, Steve says, "I shouldn't but...your coffee smells kinda great so...sure."

Grinning, Eddie tells him that he gets the beans from this little mom and pop shop that brews their own beans. The band discovered them on tour years ago and he still gets his beans shipped from them every few months. He's babbling but he can't seem to stop himself, telling Steve about different roasts and his fancy machine that cost more than his first van back when he was sixteen and living in a trailer park.

Leaning against the counter, Steve listens patiently, watching Eddie with hazel eyes and that little smile. He's got these cute moles that Eddie wants to kiss. Broad shoulders he wants to feel pressed up against the backs of his knees.

Shit. He almost spills the coffee when his face suddenly heats up at that.

"Everything okay?" There's concern in Steve's voice and he reaches out to steady Eddie's arm. His callused fingers brush Eddie's arm just over his bat tattoo and...oh.

It's like nothing he's ever imagined. So much more than all the stories. It's the biggest, brightest, most intense thing Eddie's ever felt. Just a brush of fingertips and the spots light up with gold. Three brushes across the bats' wings and a fourth smaller one off to the side. Eddie can feel the tingling on the underside of his forearm where Steve's thumb must have brushed as well.

Surging forward, Eddie cups Steve's cheek, leaving a bright gold palm print on his jaw, a thumb smear up by the cheek bone, bits of gold in the shapes of fingers curling along the side of his throat, and one little dab on the lobe of Steve's ear. Their lips are pressed together before Steve's fully reacted to the soul bond but that's okay. They don't have two days, they've got forever.

A few years later, when Corroded Coffin wins album of the year at the Grammys, Gareth takes the mic away from Eddie as he's doing all the polite thank yous to managers and agents etc - and he thanks Steve, telling the world, "If Steve had never been a hot guy in a tool belt, Eddie would never have written Golden Bats, Hammer of Love or, Eddie's favorite," Gareth says, grinning and leaning really close to the mic like it's a secret, 'cause it kind of is, "Ride the White Polo."

My Masterlist

While there are other gold touch soulmate mark fics, I've only ever read them in @kangofu-cb's Gold on Your Fingertips in the Winterhawk fandom and it will always be both one of my favorite soulmate fics and one of my favorite Clint Barton fics.

[deafsignifcantother]

new awlins library

♥ summary: just a cute little thing of alastor liking a deaf librarian yay ♥ relationships: human alastor x deaf reader ♥ word count: 1.1k ♥ notes: silly alastor, alastor pining, reader is shy and doesn't interact with people, reader has a crush on him too lowkey, customer favoritism ong

Alastor watched from afar, his eyes peaking out from over his book.

You were replacing the flowers in the vase on the front desk of your library. Your hands moved delicately, putting each flower in one by one. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the sentences before him, his pupils couldn't resist dilating at the sight of you.

He moved chairs so you weren't in his view anymore.

After finishing your task, you turned, and your eyes scanned the lobby to see what other decorations you needed to fix. Only for a second were you oblivious about his sudden seating change, but when your eyes landed on him, you smiled softly. The back of his head was not as well brushed as the front, and when you had greeted him that morning, you noticed how tired he looked. The time was 6am, right when you opened. He waited outside the door in the cold for the moment you'd allow him in. So then he sat, half-asleep and very distracted, trying to spend as much time in your presence before starting his daily routine. He had started doing this frequently, to the point where you began placing a black coffee by the table he'd position himself and scurrying off before he could try to return it. The first time he took a gulp of your drinks, he realized how easily you could have gotten away with poisoning him. How alluring, he thought to himself with a smile.

Obviously, you would never poison him. You loved having him around; he was a valued customer with an attractive face. He only ever picked up books from the French section, and when you realized he was running out of stories to read, you ordered a bunch of new ones. When he first noticed this, he smiled and eyed the new batch.

You don't show this particular interest to any other customer; you're pretty shy, hesitant, and withdrawn—the other employees are the ones who interact with them. There's a language barrier between you and seemingly everybody else. Besides paper and pen, you are considered a 'struggle' to communicate with, and you know there's nothing you can do to prevent that.

It's just the way things are. But Alastor actually puts in effort to interact with you, waiting outside the library every time you have a morning shift.

✣

You pick a French book from the shelf that is obviously out of place. Nobody touches the French books except him, but is this from another person? Honestly, you feel it's more likely he put it there just to mess with you. You smile, inspecting the cover and the pages inside.

A gloved hand reaches for the book, and your eyes follow the hand up to that same handsome, smiling man. His eyes twinkle with mischief, his mouth open in a silent laugh.

He tucks the book into his armpit. "Goodness me, I must have put it in the wrong section!"

In an instant, your heart starts beating faster than ever. Stuck in place with your eyes wide, Alastor stares at you with a bit of surprise. His eyes dart all around your face, and as he tries to come up with an explanation for why you're looking at him with such shock. Did he scare you? Do you... recognize him from somewhere?

But no, your heart is racing, and your mind is scrambling to process that a man here knows sign language. He has an accent, sure; he signs up high on his body, but with how unsure his sentences are, you know he needs to gain experience. He signs and is quite a loyal consumer; he's almost like the man of your dreams.

"No, no, no, it's alright." You sign with one hand before taking the book from his arm, and you place it on top of the others in your other hand. "Don't even worry about it."

"I do insist." His sign lasted more than a few movements. And then he puts his hand in front of you for you to place the book into. Truthfully, for a slight second, you considered placing your hand into his.

Your brain battles between continuing your work or indulging in this man. With an eyebrow raised, his eyes study you in a hard stare. You don't give in to his command and instead stand your ground, eyeing him back. The both of you are stuck with locked eyes. He pulls his hand back when he notices that you aren't budging.

"Now that I think about it," he starts, "I'd much appreciate it if you showed me where the correct section is!"

He's been in the French section many times.

You smile at him, a lopsided smile of adoration; there's no subtlety to whatever interest he has. So you bow your head sarcastically and turn away from him, walking past the shelves. He follows you with his hands tucked behind his back. He can't see the widening smile on your face and how you're practicing hiding it. He's rather charming, you can admit.

Not even checking behind you to see if he's following, you approach the correct section and place the book where it is meant to be. He raises his eyebrows when you glance up at him and try not to give in to his contagious, eccentrically bright smile.

"Fantastic, thank you!"

And again, the two of you stare at each other, waiting for the other to move. You want him to continue talking, to whisk you away from your job. He's waiting for you to ask his name or something else about him.

But you use both of your hands to hold the books in your hand against your chest.

Fine. He starts pondering his next move: does he end this interaction for today, or would it be better if he took a step closer to you?

He can't stop his eyes from glancing down at the joyous smile on your lips. He's making you smile; that's good. Perhaps that will be all for now.

He dips his head and presses a hand to his chest. You watch him and the way a strand of his hair falls into his face. His brown eyes land on yours. "And I will let you get back to your work."

You nod, your foot moving away from him before you pause. Your eyes go from his beautiful eyes to the floor with shyness. With a bow of your head, you begin to walk away, returning to your previous task. He straightens his spine and adjusts his sleeve before turning away.

Quite a success. What's next? He may try putting an English book in the French section. Or should he hide the books all around the library?

His everlasting smile grows at the thought. He's so excited to tell his mother about the interaction he's finally had. She's heard quite a lot about you.

[sprout-fics]

The Hunt

König x 'Maus' F!Reader

(Part 13 of 'Little Mouse')

Word Count: 5.3k Rating: Mature Tags: Stealth missions, Banter, Cat and Mouse, Hypothermia, Sharing body heat, Cuddling, Snuggling, Angst Warnings: None A/N: Thank you for staying with the series despite the break!

You're starting to think you might die out here.

It's been hours since you three dropped into the Kazakhstan mountains, just narrowly avoiding an incoming snowstorm that has since painted the steep mountains white. The air is thick with the blank, icy taste of snow, and you struggle to catch Soap and Ghost in their snowgear as they ascend up the cliff to the remote radio tower station that is the source of your intel. They're strong, clambering up the slope one at a time while the other watches their six. You supervise them from afar, perched on a cliff opposite of the valley, trying to catch sight of them despite the curtain of white that falls between you. 

Laswell was the one to point you here, as she usually does. The station chief has been combing through intelligence for months, searching for breadcrumbs on Makarov. The man is a ghost in the wind, vanished from prison and now hiding secretly as he plots his next move. He could be anywhere in the world. Your hunt for him had been delayed by your tangle with KorTac, but now even they seem to have vanished into the breeze with nary a trace.

You adjust your scope, zooming in on the sight of Soap and Ghost perching on a cliff edge, shoulders heaving with exertion. You smirk under your snow mask and sweep your sights further up the slope towards the target they are ascending towards. 

The tower itself is unassuming, a lone and decrepit thing in the middle of nowhere. Yet all it had taken was a single errant ping from a satellite to realize the traffic out of this seemingly normal outpost was far larger than originally thought. It could be nothing, it could be everything, but one thing remains clear, and it's the message Laswell managed to pull and decipher from a single static transmission, letters spelled out in Russian.

KorTac.

It's the first lead you've had in over a month. The mercenary group had seemingly gone underground following your raid on their satellite base. By the time Laswell had managed to pull an order to survey the site via drone footage, there was nothing left. The entire place had been burnt to the ground, devastated, nothing but ashes to comb through in search of answers. Since then the group had vanished, gone in the wind. Not defeated, but biding their time, waiting in the dark and drawing plans that would eventually come to full fruition. 

"Bravo 09, this is Bravo 07, how copy?"

You barely catch a glimpse of Ghost as he raises a hand to his headset. The transmission is tinted with static due to the snowstorm, but you can still make out the low, hushed accent of  the older man's voice as he checks in.

"Got you in my scope, 07." You report back, mouth moving behind your snowmask, wet with condensation. You shiver, feeling half an inch of snow on your back, not moving from your sniper position, ready to wait here hours more if need be. You hope for the sake of your fingers and toes it doesn't come to that.

"It's cold as balls out here, LT." You grouse in addition, and you see Soap's head tilt towards Ghost as he regards his partner.

"My balls are cold." Johnny agrees irritably, but there's a touch of playfulness there that hasn't been dampened by the snow.

“Feeling a little shriveled, Johnny?” You snark crudely, and hear the Scot make an indignant little scoff in return.

"Focus, both of you." Ghost snaps, to which you both silence yourselves with a snicker. "We're almost at the perimeter. We'll be going radio dark after that."

"Copy." You reply, adjusting your scope with numbing fingers to focus on the steel fence that surrounds the radio tower and the adjoining building. "Good hunting, you two."

Neither Soap or Ghost reply, focusing instead on climbing the last few ledges on the opposite side of the mountain. You watch as they take a break at the top, crouched near the edge. Eventually you hear Ghost’s voice filter over the comms. 

“Break’s over, Johnny.”  Ghost declares, and stands, offering him a hand and hauling Soap up so they advance forward along the slippery, snow laden cliffside. An incoming wall of white obscures your view of them as they round the edge towards the fence, and you hear one last garbled transmission from Ghost before they vanish.

It’s silent after that, with nothing but the wind howling in your ears and prickling under your skin. Even with your thick, downy parka there’s little respite from the bone biting chill that seeps into your veins. Perched in place as you are on overwatch, you know there’s no moving until your two comrades find their way out to you once more. 

So you huddle in, ignoring the chatter of your teeth and trying to steady your hands on the rifle, hoping and praying that the chamber doesn’t freeze, and that you won’t need to use it. The cold grips tight to your veins, and you try to imagine the lulling warmth of a campfire that you can’t afford. 

Hurry back. You think towards your two comrades. Before I fucking freeze to death.

There’s a tinny sort of whine in your radio, and you shift to adjust so the transmission comes through.

"Bravo team, this is Watcher-01, do you read me?" Laswell's voice comes in, tinny and crackling but still recognizable.

You blink, brow knotting. Laswell had signed off shortly before your parachute jump into the mountains. Whatever has caused her to reach out like this must be urgent. Maybe the tower is a bust, and she's decided to pull you from the mission. 

Ghost and Soap don't respond, and you think they might have already switched off their radios. So instead, after a pause, you respond in their stead. 

"This is Bravo 09, send traffic Watcher."

There's a pause before Laswell responds. "Bravo 09, advise all stations we may have KorTac operatives in the field."

You suck in a breath, feel cold air seize your lungs and descend into your veins with icy realization. If KorTac is here, then that means this tower is much more important than originally thought. You haven't run into any members of KorTac since Price's rescue, which means...

He could be here.

You store the thought as quickly as it came, trying to find Soap and Ghost against the rocky outcrop, only to come up empty handed. 

"Copy, Watcher. Ghost and Soap have gone radio silent." You report with a little grunt of frustration, knowing the two of them have already made their way inside. It could be too late, they might have found out the hard way just what waits for them. “They’ve likely breached the perimeter.”

"Then keep an eye out, Rookie, we need to-"

You blink as static garbles Laswell's next words, swallowing them with a crackle that fades to a high pitched whine.

"Watcher, repeat." You try, leaning a hand up to your headset to try and regain the signal.

Static.

"Laswell?"

Silence.

The storm must have knocked out the signal, which does not bode well for your mission. You try once more to raise Soap and Ghost, to no avail. You breathe in and quell the uncertain flutter of your heartbeat, feeling a familiar sense of knowing dread thrum low through your chest. The extrasensory insight you rely on to discern the state of the world around you hums with warning, does little to ease the low roll of your stomach. 

It's fine, you tell yourself. Soap and Ghost have handled far worse than this. You weren't there for Las Almas, having joined the team only after, but you heard the story from Johnny. Barely armed, pursued, injured, out of supplies and ammo, and yet somehow they had survived. This, with them well armed and in pursuit, should be no challenge. 

It takes a few minutes to repeat this to yourself, but it does nothing to relax the anxious, knowing pulse of sixth sense that hovers in the back of your mind. 

When the radio crackles again you nearly jump, muttering a transmission before anything can come through. 

"Laswell, do you copy?"

Static. 

Then, a different voice. 

"Hello, Maus."

If you were cold before, the voice that filters through your radio sends you hurtling into hypothermia, jolting at the familiar, purring intonation of the man who has long since pursued you.

“König.” You breathe, unable to contain the shocked breathlessness from your voice.

“Long time no see, as they say.” He murmurs, and you can hear the low, sultry delight of his voice at your response. You should have stayed quiet, shouldn’t have spoken, switched to another channel to get a hold of Laswell, tried to reach Soap and Ghost to tell them to retreat. 

“What are you doing here?” You hiss instead, gritting your chattering teeth. 

“I could ask you the same thing. You’re a long way from home, aren’t you, fraulein?”

You don’t respond to that, too busy trying to ignore the way the KorTac operative’s voice itches pleasantly under your skin. It’s a vain betrayal, and you internally chastise yourself for remembering the darkness of the supply closet that accompanied your last rendezvous, the soft, yearning words between you. You’ve tried to lock away the memory of it, the way his voice rumbled softly down at you with a traitorous promise that you know will mean the end of you both.

"I might try and kill you again." You breathe, voice wavering as you desperately try to reign in the wickedness of your heart. "I can't promise you I won't succeed."

"You won't." He tells you, and his voice is resolute. There is no uncertainty, no hidden conviction in the utter confidence of which he speaks. "You can try, Maus. You won't be able to."

"And if I don't?”

König blinks at you, eyes fluttering shut for all of a moment before he speaks.

"Then we'll be here again." He murmurs, and you want to shudder at the sudden softness of his voice, allowing that forbidden thing inside you to stretch forward into him. "Again and again, Maus. Over and over until one of us surrenders." 

You’ve tried to forget in his absence, shutting out the way you’d closed your eyes when he had tried to kiss you, vainly attempting to replace it with the knowledge that he’s tried to kill your friends, that he was responsible for Price’s capture, for your capture so long ago. In the weeks he’s been gone you’ve curled silently into your bunk, trying to convince yourself how wrong, how selfish you are for allowing yourself to harbor feelings for him. 

Now, when he’s here, now that his voice purrs into your radio with that beloved endearment, Maus, you find your steadfast resistance crumbling down around you like snow shifting on the mountains- preceding an avalanche. 

“I missed you, Maus.”

It sounds almost like a whine, a needy thing that would be pouting if there wasn’t an undertone of secret, gleeful intent beneath.

Don’t. You remind yourself, body scrunching tight as you try to control your breathing so he doesn’t hear your shuddering exhale. 

“Where are your friends?” You ask instead, voice even, flat.

He’s silent then, and you swear the absence of his words speaks of disappointment.

“That’s not how this works, Maus.” He replies, voice betraying his discontent.

You snort. “Tell me then, how does this work?”

There’s a strange crackling sound over the radio, and if you listen closely you can hear him chuckle.

“It works. Just with you and me.”

You let out a freezing breath at that, and you know it crackles over the comms towards him. You’re silent, but it’s different now as you begin to ease from your original surprise. Against your better judgment, you allow yourself to be soothed by the gentle tenor of his voice, allow yourself to remember what it felt like to nearly be kissed by him. The phantom touch of his knuckles under your chin, tipping you up towards him ghosts across your skin with a wicked, traitorous temptation. 

“What are you doing out here, Maus?” König asks, and it's more like a sigh, a reminiscent thing that seems to recall your previous wayward parting. 

“Recon.” You tell him flatly, refusing to divulge any more details lest it compromise your mission. 

“Alone?”

You think of Soap and Ghost struggling up the cliff side, vanishing in a cloud of white towards the perimeter of the radio tower. He can’t be allowed to know they’re here. God only knows what may happen to them, to him if they find each other.

“Yes.” You breathe, but your hesitation betrays your lie for what it is.

König hums in consideration, and you know him well enough by now to know the narrowing of his eyes, the slight tilt of his head as he weighs your words. 

“I think you’re lying, Maus.” He intones, and you stiffen at that, at the small whisper of threat that lingers in his voice- the sound of a man born and bred to kill, to hunt and maim. 

You, in your naive fantasies, forgot he too was a hunter. 

“I think your friends are here.” He goes on, voice low with danger, and you feel your muscles go taut, eyes wide and shoulders stiff. “Should I go say hello?”

“I’m alone.” You tell him again, but your voice is a thin, desperate thing, caught tight in your chest. 

König chuckles, as if he finds your rising panic amusing.

“A joke, Maus.” He explains, and it does little to relieve you, not with the way it failed to sound like anything other than a threat.

“But...” He continues, his voice hanging between you like suspended frost. “I guess if you are alone, you wouldn’t mind company, mm?”

You close your eyes, scrunching them shut at the way your heart clenches with an excitement you shouldn’t feel. The idea of his touch on you again is both exhilarating and terrifying- like drinking poison just because you love the taste. He’s a venom that slips into your veins, purrs under your skin and warms you through even as you burn from the inside out.

The logical part of you knows to refuse him. Yet there’s also a chance that if he remains where he is, he has a very good chance of bumping into Ghost and Soap, which is the absolute last thing you need right now- for the mission, and for yourself. You need to draw him from the tower, away from the others.

“You’re welcome to.” You purr back, refusing to show your wavering voice. “That is...if you can find me.”

He pauses at that, and you wonder if he expected you to refuse him and instead pleasantly surprised. 

“A game?” He asks, and you hear the rising excitement in his voice, like a predator who has caught the scent of something delicious. “And my prize?”

You huff at that, oddly endeared by his sadistic sort of playfulness. “I suppose you’ll have to find out, König.” You reply, voice low with promise.

“You’re a vexing woman, Maus.”

Thank God Laswell can’t hear this.

“Try and find me if you can.” You goad, narrowing your scope on the fence perimeter where Ghost and Soap have yet to emerge. “Good luck.”

“Oh I won’t need luck.” He purrs, and you shiver.

“Then I’ll see you soon.” You reply, and switch the channel on your radio off. 

Silence follows, and you release a deep, slow exhale to steady yourself. The snow muffles all sound, even the thump of your heartbeat as it beats unevenly against your tender ribs. You try to tame the excitement that hums inside you, forcing yourself into stillness until the cold embraces you again.

It’s unlikely he’ll be able to find you, buried as you are. You’ve allowed snow to accumulate on your back and legs, slowly engulfing your pale snow gear in a further camouflage. You’ve been here for well over an hour, and can stay much longer than that if you need. Not moving, barely breathing. Still and silent in the way snipers are, waiting for your chance to pull the trigger.

There’s a part of you that hopes he finds you, somehow. It’s a selfish, dangerous thing, fed by the excitement of hearing from him for the first time in weeks, scratching the itch you’ve desperately been trying to bury inside yourself. It’s the thing you’ve felt for a while now, a secret desire that betrays all the values and loyalty you hold dear to.

The desire to be caught.

You scrub a snow laden hand across your face, hoping somehow the frost will clear your mind of traitorous thoughts. You need to focus on the mission- ensuring that Soap and Ghost make it to the extraction point without anyone tailing or firing after them. You drew König out not because you wanted to see him, but because you were trying to protect your teammates from an enemy operative. That’s all this is. No wayward, illicit romance, no purring over the comms and suggestive flirtations, and certainly no memories of staring up at your enemy in a dark room and hoping he would find the courage to kiss you.

For fuck’s sake, get a hold of yourself.

You push the image away as far as you can, and train your scope once more on the ice laden cliff across the narrow valley.

It’s quiet in the minutes that follow, and you feel the heavily falling snow continue to pack along your spine. You try to contain your chattering teeth and shivering hands, noting with irritation the undue wobble of your scope as you sweep your sights across the landscape-

What?

A shape, there and gone in a mere moment, vanishing along the narrow path off to your right in a cloud of white. You’re certain you saw something, but when you train your sights, there’s nothing there.

Maybe...

You should move to a better position.

It might be a good idea. The motion would heat up your trembling, frigid limbs, and the snow would hopefully cover any tracks you leave behind. Yet there’s risks of doing so. The second you move, even with your snow camouflage, there’s a risk of being spotted by the operative hunting you through the snow.

You purse your chapped, cold lips under your snow mask, and weigh your options.

-and that’s when you hear the sound behind you.

You flip over quickly, reaching for your side arm, but the weapon is buried against your side in the snow, and as you fumble for it a huge, towering figure lurches into view.

“Found you, Maus.” König rumbles as he steps from behind a tree, and before you can bite a reply, try to raise your silenced pistol, you freeze.

“What-” You manage, a little forced, blinking. “What are you wearing?”

König pauses mid-step as he stalks towards you, eyes wide under his hood. Your question catches him off guard, and he glances down at himself in confusion. His hood, normally a dark, ominous black, is now a strangely, ghostly gray that matches his long, snow-white layers and tan tac vest. Black boots and thick gloves are tugged over his pants and sleeves, but his helmet remains the same.

“...You don’t like it?” He asks, and you laugh out of pure disbelief.

“I-” You try, side arm now forgotten. “Yes?”

You shake yourself, and reach once more for your weapon.

“Ah-” König tuts, quickly moving forward too fast and gently placing a boot over your arm. “Please don’t, Maus.”

You frown at him, try and wiggle your arm, only for him to increase the weight on it. “Asshole.” You seethe, and König huffs an indignant little sound. “What if I said that was your prize?”

“A bullet?” He tilts his head at you. “You shouldn’t have.”

“No, I really should.” You insist past chattering teeth, and tug more severely at his ankle despite your heavy, shivering limbs.

He watches you struggle in vain, and you hate the amused little glint in his eyes.

Finally, you flop back into the snow, winded.

“I won.” He provides smugly, and you punch at his calf in one more outraged attempt to dislodge him, with no success.

“So what then?” You seethe. “Are you going to capture me again?”

“No.”

You blink, look up at him, startled by the sudden severity of his tone. He bites out the word like you’ve insulted him, sneering and dangerous. You’d only sort of been joking, but the reflexive refusal that you’ve managed to elicit has you pause, considering.

“We’re...past that, Maus.” He goes on, voice softer. The boot eases from your arm a bit. “I thought we agreed on that much.”

"Some things are more beautiful when they are free, Maus."

It’s difficult to decide how you feel about that.

Part of you is relieved that König has decided to forego the obsession of capturing you. For reasons still unknown to you, O’Connor had kept Price alive during his captivity. You have a feeling that for you, your fate at the hands of KorTac would be far less kind. Held by ransom at best, an unmarked grave at worst, it’s fortunate for you that the Austrian towering above you has decided much the same.

Yet you also wish somehow things could go back to what they were- simpler. König trying to take you alive, and you- trying to kill him for it. Instead, the haunting memory of the darkness inside the storage closet of the KorTac base, of how you’d almost let him kiss you, of how you saw his face, remains a treacherous addiction you desperately try to rid yourself of. Now, this, whatever it is, seems to have spiraled beyond your reach, unable now to discern the lines between villain and dangerous ally, a balance you fail to reconcile with every frost-bitten breath inside your chest.

You try to force a glare up at him, but instead feel your expression cast between dismay and doubt, a visage that he absorbs and blinks slowly down at you.

“You’re shaking, Maus.” He notes quietly, voice barely audible above the ice-laden wind. “Are you afraid?”

“No.” You bite back, and that at least is the truth. “Just freezing my ass off.”

König tilts his head at you, and is silent for a moment, considering. Yet then you see his eyes behind the mask, crinkling at the edges as he smiles.

“Poor little liebling.” He coos, and you frown harder at that, the almost condescending dip of his voice. Yet before you can protest König uses his boots to gently roll you onto your stomach back to the position you were at before, and then abruptly dropping his weight onto your back.

“W-what-” You croak in surprise, face warming as you try and squirm under the massive bulk of him pressed flat against your spine. “What are you doing?!”

“You said you were cold.” The giant above you reasons, settling in so he blankets you on all sides with his larger frame. “I’m just trying to keep you warm, Maus.”

Your brain short circuits, fizzling into nothingness as you battle the absolutely absurdity of the situation with the welcome body heat bleeding into your bones from above.

This is so beyond the field manual I might as well burn the thing.

König happily nuzzles into your back, trapping you underneath him. He arranges his arms in a cradle to rest your head in, his own cheek pressed to the nape of your neck with a pleased sigh.

You can’t even find the words to object to this bizarre development, eyes blinking dumbly into the wall of white that obscures the other side of the valley where Soap and Ghost have vanished to. You can only silently thank whatever higher power there is that they can’t see this- can’t see you as you find yourself cuddling with the enemy.

“I’ll take this as my prize.” König murmurs cheerfully, and you make a sound of utter disbelief, confused yet not entirely displeased at this development.

The more you fail to squirm free, the more heat radiates from the form of the soldier behind you, encasing you in a small cocoon of heat that blessedly chases above the shiver in your muscles. Slowly, you find yourself relaxing against him, taking in the warmth for all its worth and silently convincing yourself it’s just for survival.

Can’t RV if I’m hypothermic, after all. You try to reason, blatantly ignoring the tiny voice inside you that speaks otherwise.

“You’re keeping me alive.” You muse aloud, mouth partially covered by your snow mask and the cradle of his arms.

“I am.” König replies simply with a small shrug.

“Why?”

König pauses for a moment. You swear you feel him stiffen, feel the thump of his heartbeat pound between your shoulder blades as he attempts to summon an answer.

“Because I like you, Maus.” He tells you at last, soft and breathy in your ear. “I like you better alive.”

The cold air in your lungs seems to punch at the staccato rhythm inside your chest, forcing a cold intake of air that you pray he doesn’t notice.

“Since that first time we met.” König goes on, voice rumbling low from his chest into the warming dip of your spine. “I saw you, saw the way you fought, the way you...weren’t afraid. You were so soft and small in my arms...”

He trails off then, but when he resumes his musings he chuckles low against your nape. “You were like a little bird, but when you woke up it turned out you had fangs, Maus.”

You feel a small flush of pride at that, at the reminder of the way you had challenged him, had refused to back down despite the towering, intimidating stranger before you. In truth you’d been terrified, knowing your capture could have meant torture, even death, knowing that Gaz had been left behind bleeding and unconscious.

Gaz...

Your face falls in dismay.

What would he think of you like this? With the man who once had almost killed him? Who had dared to steal you away right in front of his eyes? What would he make of this? With you in the arms of an enemy, refusing to squirm free, to kill the man who had once helped kidnap Price.

...With a man who had saved your life more times than you could count?

“We can’t...do this.” You breathe quietly into the snow, eyes half lidded and scarcely gazing at the wall of white before you. “König...”

The man behind you is silent, and you know without seeing his eyes he’s taking in your words, thinking very much the same. Like you, König knows the danger of his fascination with you, the way he’s already betrayed his own company to aid you, to keep you safe. You both know that the lines you have both crossed betray the allies you’ve sworn yourselves to, caught in a dangerous abraxas that neither of you can control.

“Would you?” He asks in a whisper shielded by the wind. “If things were different, Maus?”

You close your eyes, feeling your chest clench with an emotion you dare not name. You should lie to him. You should tell him that this, this is something you never expected, something you can indulge in no longer. You should tell him next time that you won’t hesitate, that you’ll squeeze the trigger and watch this horrid affair finally come to its fateful, bloody conclusion.

Instead, you offer in a scarce whisper:

“Yes.”

There’s a long pause before König sighs behind you, his chest deflating into your spine and the warm breath of him spilling across your nape. You shiver under him, purely out of sensation rather than the cold, reminded of the intimacy of the position you two find yourselves in.

“What am I going to do with you, Maus?” He asks, and despite the melodrama involved you know it’s a genuine question- one you yourself have asked many, many times.

“We could go back to trying to kill each other.” You offer with feign cheerfulness.

“I never wanted to kill you, Maus.”

Right.

In some ways you wish he had. If König never had qualms about killing you, perhaps this could be avoided.

“You could desert.” You say suddenly, surprising yourself. “Defect and surrender to the 141.”

“Do you really think it’s that simple, Maus?” He asks, almost dismayed.

You know it’s not. With everything König has done, with the legacy he’s left on you and your teammates, you know they’d never trust him. Even if you explained to them that König wasn’t the monster they think he is, that he had never done the things they suspect him of, you know all you’d receive in return is your friends’ disbelief and distrust for lying to them, for asking them to trust the man who had once captured you.

The image of their faces, of the hurt and despair and disappointment etched across their eyes, is something you can hardly bear.

This is your fault, you think quietly, with dawning despair. You should have killed him long ago. You should have told your team. Perhaps they’d have forgiven you if you’d confessed, consoled you and told you that this was all just a horrible maladjustment to your capture back then. If you’d told them, if you’d killed him...

“Maus.” König observes at the small shuddering breath you draw in, emotions bubbling inside your chest.

If things were different, then somehow....maybe...

“Bravo-09, this is Bravo-07.”

You jolt, muscles seizing at the sudden staticky tenor of Ghost’s voice over your comms. König braces on his forearms to allow you to scramble for your radio, voice breathless as you respond.

“Go ahead Bravo-07.”

“Sweep cleared. Proceeding to rally point Alpha. Fifteen minutes.”

“Good copy, LT. Are you being followed?”

A pause, then. “Negative, Bravo-09. Place was empty. Looks like they’d just burned it.”

You blink, then twist towards König.

“You bastard.” You manage, eyes wide as you realize what he’s done. “This was a distraction.”

König’s eyes soften with a remorse that fails to quell the anger warming in your veins.

“A necessary one, Maus.” He offers simply, removing the weight of his body from yours. You twist onto your back to face him, a mixture of rage and hurt written clear across your face. König towers above you, a massive shadow that easily dwarfs your prone form.

“You’re lucky you and your friends came when you did. A day earlier and you’d all be dead.”

“Why?” You manage, voice strangled. “Why distract us?”

“You know I can’t tell you that, Maus.” He offers, almost sadly. “We’re still enemies, after all.”

He steps away from you then, and even when you know he sees your hand reach for your sidearm, he doesn’t flinch. Instead he pauses, offers you a clear line of sight that would allow you to take the perfect shot at his turned back.

“...But maybe not forever.” He finally offers, and steps easily into the trees, vanishing.

You watch after him, expression pained, asking the snowy sky for answers it cannot yield.

In the place where he once was, your finger trembles on the trigger.

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[gay-dorito-dust]

syzoth fluff hcs ? 😩😩 i love himmm

This is so ooc for him but fuck it. 🦦

Imagine if you will, you’ve been noticing that Syzoth was having trouble sleeping due to either his cold blooded nature and or nightmares that forced him to relive the trauma he’s suffered through. You’re heart broke for him and being the kindhearted and patient person that you were, you offered up the suggestion of being his personal heater but completely understood if this was too uncomfortable for him to do as of right now.

Syzoth, never use to such treatment from anyone -never less his own kind- decided one night, when everything was starting to take a toll on him, to take you up on your generous offer but he was so stiff and awkward in going about it that when he does get to your room. He either ends up dozing off across from you out of respect for your personal space or just straight up watches over you the entire night due to his unwillingness to wake you up from your slumber.

He’s such a sweetheart.

You’d wake up to see him slump over, fast asleep and you couldn’t help but smile at image of him standing/ sitting awkwardly in your room throughout the night as you would then scoot closer to him and drape your cover over him, immediately waking him up, making you freeze in place but upon realising that he wasn’t in any danger, Syzoth would close his eye again and instinctively cuddle up to you, basking on your warmth.

This soon becomes routine for the both of you as there wasn’t a single night where you weren’t cuddle up to one another with Syzoth leeched off of your bodily warmth by burying his head into the checks of your neck as he clings onto you like a lifeline, whilst you had finally felt that Syzoth had grown comfortable enough for you to rest your hand upon his back in order to keep him close. It melts your heart that whenever you go to pull yourself away, Syzoth immediately pulls you back down and practically caged you with his arms and legs as to keep you tethered to him because your warm and he doesn’t wanna let that go.

I wouldn’t be surprised if you woke up one day to him cuddling against you in his reptilian form. Give his snoot a lil kiss for me while your at it will you?

Upon hearing Johnny making Syzoth laugh one time, you’ve deemed then and there that he had to have the prettiest laugh that you’ve ever heard in your life. So much so that you try your damn hardest to make him let out a little chuckle or wholehearted laugh. All in order to hear the most prettiest sound to ever grace your ears.

Syzoth would be made aware of what you were doing after the first couple of tries by Johnny who was watching the whole thing from afar, finding your attempts humorous and the confused puppy dog look on Syzoth’s face even more humorous.

‘They’re trying to make you laugh dude.’ - johnny

‘Why? Why would they want to hear me laugh?’ -Syzoth

‘They think your laugh is cute.’ - johnny.

‘They find my laugh cute?’ - Syzoth, absentmindedly smiling at the thought.

‘They aren’t exactly subtle about it for starters.’ -Johnny, seeing you rummage through a beat up joke book, muttering ‘that’s jokes shit.’ Or ‘hehe, that’s a good one’ under your breath as you make a list of jokes to use for later.

So now whenever you try to syzoth laugh, he does so but not because the jokes are remotely funny, well some of them are with their straightforwardness but others go over his head, he’s laughing and smiling because of hard you’re trying to make him laugh and smile to the point the determined look on your face is enough wrangle a chuckle out of him. Syzoth thinks it’s very sweet that you adore his laughter, but finds you even sweeter when you do manage to make him laugh and he gets to see how your face just lights up from it in victory.

I genuinely don’t think that anyone has thought his laugh as amazing as you do, so needless to say you’re genuine comments towards him make his fucking day worthwhile. So he tries to reciprocate that kindness by adamantly sticking by your side and protect you from any and all danger, despite knowing that you could protect yourself but hey we all want to be protected by someone so we don’t always have to have our guard up 24/7. Which is exactly what you and Syzoth are to one another.

Johnny once teasingly called you both the others ‘emotional support buddy’ and it kinda just stuck from then on given how much time you spent together.

Will Syzoth use his power of invisibility to mess with you? The answer is always an defiant yes. He’s a secret menace. You can forget playing hide and seek - a game of which Syzoth knows next to nothing about- with this little cheat. For he wins by default because of his ability. Which you’d then have to explain to him how it goes against the rules because not everyone can do that and even if they did, it would only make the game unplayable. So a new rule would have to be implemented that Syzoth was prohibited from using invisibility to win.

It doesn’t matter whether your easily scared or not at all, Syzoth with use his invisibility to get ahead of you from time to time. So I wouldn’t put it past him to use his invisibility to sneak in some kisses upon your forehead, nose, cheeks and if he’s feeling particularly mischievous that day; you’re lips.

You could be looking for the bastard and he’s following behind you invisible, trying his hardest not to laugh whenever you look over your shoulder, not knowing your looking directly at him before looking forward, calling out his name once again. God forbid he ever steps on a creaky floorboard as it was a 50/50 toss up for him, it could either make you shit yourself or give you a hint as to where he is while you’re actively looking for him. However Syzoth trusts his ability enough to not make that vital mistake.

Will he use it to surprise you with back hugs? This goes without question but yes he absolutely would.

I think I’ve gone on long enough so I’ll end this here.

[enluv]

(almost) six missed chances.

pairing: park jongseong x mentioned fem!reader

wc: 796

synopsis: in which jay can count all the missed chances he’s had with you on one hand, until he can’t.

genre: volleyball player!jay, pure fluff, light teasing (menace heeseung), and a lovesick jay!!

one evening he watches as you sit two tables infront of from him, chatting excitedly with your friend about your weekend plans. jay thinks he’d like to go out with you for the weekend too, only if you’d let him, but the professor starts class before he can think to ask.

“maybe if you asked instead of staring at her all class, she’d agree to go out with you.” his friend playfully chastises as he watches jay’s eyes never leave your form.

“shut up.” he mumbles back, quickly averting his gaze away onto his book.

two small waves are sent his way, and he feels like he’s seeing things. did he really see that right? had you seriously waved at him? him? as he himself? jay park? you knew he existed? his smile beams.

“dude why didn’t you wave back? that was so awkward! I had to do it for you! are you seriously that in love that you can’t even fathom waving back to her?” heeseung scoffs, pulling at his friends arm to guide him through the sea of students getting out of class.

it’s in that moment jay realizes, he didn’t wave back.

three times he’s seen you here now, it could be a coincidence but heeseung swears you’ve never come in before. he taunts that you’ve only started coming since jay started, and his heart races at the thought.

“you’re like a lovesick puppy, an idiot really!” heeseung scolds watching his friend shamelessly admire you from afar.

“she looks really pretty today, brown is pretty on her.” he mumbles mostly to himself, moving around useless items on the counter.

“you’re sick!” heeseung yells as he swats jay away to finish taking orders.

four boys sit at a table complaining about their classes, volleyball season is among them and their schedules are tight, fitting in time with one another outside of practice is hard, lunches are sacred. a jab to his side brings him out of his endless thoughts.

“are you tired or something? you haven’t said a word to us since we sat down,” asks one of his friends.

“maybe that spike to the head really got him, do you need to see the team medic or something?” dotes another.

“he isn’t hurt idiots, he’s just in love. he does this in class too, stares at the wall imagining it’s his girlfriend,” heeseung points out, rolling his eyes at jay’s behavior, he’d witnessed it so many times before.

“she’s not my girlfriend!”

“but you want her to be!”

“please ask her out soon, I’m tired of you drooling over her in class, seriously dude all you can see is the back of her head, what’s so pretty about that?”

“everything about her is pretty…” he trails off, once again daydreaming.

five whistles blow to signal the stop of practice, jay huffs in annoyance. right before the whistle he was sure he would land his serve. the same one he’d been working to perfect since the season started.

“i have an announcement boys, you’ve whined to me so much about getting ya’ a team manager so I finally did it! don’t say I never do anything for you all cause I did this so don’t ask for nothin’ else!” the boys look between one another, some in confusion, others in excitement.

he’s sure his eyes are playing tricks on him, cheeks flushed bright red from practice and now as he watches you walk in, this has to be a some kind of sweet sick mirage.

“this is your new team manager brats, be nice to her or I’ll keep you on the sidelines, I mean it! if she quits because yer messin’ with her I’ll spike a ball to yer head,” his playful threat falls flat on the ears of the team, they all stare in awe at their newest team manager.

“looks like you might have some competitionnnnn,” heeseung sings as he walks past jay, shaking his head at his friend who is still staring in disbelief.

“fuck no.”

six boys, one coach, and a number of others watch him as he strides across the gym, the confidence oozing from his stature quickly diminishing as he stops right in front of you.

“i think you’re really pretty, and smart, and so fucking funny, it’s been killing me ever since I first saw you, you’re all I think about, day and night! and I know you don’t know me but you could get to know me, if you go out with me on a date!” he’s stumbling the words out, no amount of practice sessions in his bathroom mirror had prepared him for this moment, it’s all too surreal.

“oh finally,” his eyes widen in confusion at your words, “i thought you’d never ask.”

coco’s love note: firstly, thank you @malarign for reading it over for me hehe I love you bae!! 🤍 and secondly, this is my first post in a while and on top of that I’m currently stuck with a cold so please show it some love if you enjoy it 🥺 feedback and reblogs are always appreciated <3

enhypen taglist — @yeoforce @bloom-bloom-pow @nikis-mum @yourlocalhotgf @kyublr @spoooooooooooon @enhacolor @yoongimooni @blaqpinksthectic @gyuuss @eternallyhyucks @dinosdance @simpforsung @misschubswrites @junityy @jjunry @jwonsgirl @fxckingshame @stealanity @haoreo @jxp1t-3r @chaerybae @bobariki @vatterie @tytrackfebreze @veryjeongintxtkid @w3bqrl @heefys @haechan-nahceah @queen-klarissa @odxrilove @s00buwu @j-wyoung @jiawji

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (13)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, arranged engagement, violence, swearing, trauma, regret, depression, mention of a suicide attempt ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Daemon understood better than anyone what it meant to be the second son, the one who would inherit nothing. It seemed to him that, in contrast to Viserys, he was a blazing fire like a true dragon, giving warmth, light and shelter to those close to his heart, burning those whom he saw as his enemies.

Viserys was always blind, soft-spoken, lacking strong character and clear opposition when things got too far out of hand.

This trait of his had been carefully exploited by Otto Hightower over the years, putting himself in the role of his friend and adviser, playing his part with an extraordinary devotion from which he felt like throwing up.

He knew it was pure courtesy, perfectly calculated, taking advantage of the mourning of the entire Red Keep and his inattention after Aemma's tragic death he slipped his brother his daughter under his nose.

Looking at her on their wedding day, standing in a long, ornate gown he thought she looked like a child on whom someone had put layers of cloth and precious stones; overwhelmed by it all she looked down at her feet, around her nails the red wounds he had seen on her hands ever since.

On that one day, knowing what was awaiting her, he truly felt compassion for her.

After that, however, he stopped.

She could have built her independence, committed herself to the needs of the kingdom, she, however, in the company of that cunt, Criston Cole, gave herself over to prayer and mortification, obediently following her father's orders.

As a woman, she was in his eyes pitiful, weepy, whiny, merely pretending to be saintly and virtuous, having in fact nothing to do with these qualities.

His feelings about her and her father moved involuntarily to her children.

He recognised the dragon's blood in them and treated them differently from the Hightowers, yet he was unable or unwilling to bond with them, seeing how they were suckled to their mother's breasts, which did not allow them to think or breathe on their own.

He watched from the sidelines, observing from afar as Rhaenyra and Alicent's children trained together, how a divide formed between them. He knew that once they grew up and understood what was really at stake, they would throw themselves at each other's throats.

He knew perfectly well whose right to the throne he would support.

Aegon was a drunkard and a cunt, Helaena was quiet and withdrawn, Aemond was sullen and vindictive − he thought with amusement that each of them had inherited the worst from his brother and their mother.

However, he couldn't help but show at least a little compassion and understanding for his brother's second son, who had been punished by the gods, left without a dragon of his own.

Some part of him wanted to speak to him, to get to know him, to see through him as a kind of reflection of himself, but on those rare occasions when he was with Leana and his daughters in the Red Keep he never made such a gesture, which he later, though he did not want to admit it to himself, regretted.

Perhaps things would have turned out differently then.

He could see with what admiration he looked at him, how much he longed to hear at least one word of appreciation from him, any gesture of interest.

He knew that if he could decide who his father-figure would be he would choose not Viserys or Cole but him, and he pretended not to notice that.

Once though, he noticed something that surprised him; strolling through the cloisters of the Red Keep he spotted his nephew and Rhaenyra's only daughter standing side by side in the square, leaning over the table filled with the various weapons. He smirked under his breath as he walked closer, wanting to listen to their conversation.

They were betrothed.

A clumsy attempt by his brother to avoid what he felt in his bones had to happen.

He saw his niece point her finger at one of the weapons lying on the wooden tabletop, a steel black spiked ball hooked on a chain to a special handle.

"What is it? It looks scary." She said with amusement, her voice light and pleasant; he thought with surprise that his nephew's grim and stormy nature did not deter her.

Alicent's son grunted loudly, lifting his chin slightly in a gesture of superiority and intelligence that he hated so much about the Hightowers, clearly proud to be able to speak on a subject in which his knowledge was extensive.

"It's a flail. A very heavy weapon requiring great strength and agility in its use. It literally crushes the opponent." He said, forcing himself into a low, mature, masculine voice, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, his hair in a slight disarray from the few duels he had already had.

"That weapon looks like the kind you die from in agony." Mumbled his niece, tentatively touching her fingertip to one of the spikes – her uncle pushed her away immediately, surprised by her gesture, grabbing her hand by the wrist.

"Are you insane? What are you doing? It's sharp after all, you could have hurt yourself." He said angrily, but she only blinked, surprised by his outburst, and smiled indulgently, showing him her finger.

"I know, silly. I wouldn't want something like that to hit me in the face." She sneered, raising her eyebrows in amusement, joy in her gaze and embarrassment at the fact that he still hadn't let her go.

She took a step closer to him, but he stepped back quickly and lowered his gaze, he noticed in disbelief that his pale cheeks had turned scarlet.

"Not here. Later." He muttered letting go of her wrist immediately. He heard her quiet sigh of disappointment as she nodded and walked away without another word.

He watched as, a moment later, his nephew cursed under his breath, pulling off his leather gloves and moved after her, grabbing her at one of the side entrances by her arm. She turned to him with a smile as if she was sure he would follow her, her lips placing a quick, brief kiss on his cheek.

He let her go, embarrassed and blushing, looking sideways, muttered something, and she nodded and disappeared behind the walls. His nephew returned to the square as if nothing had happened, a lazy, barely visible smile on his face; Aegon looked at him from afar with a look full of pity, as soon as his younger brother came closer he said loud and clear:

"What a twat you are."

He snarled under his breath as he heard Criston Cole immediately respond to his remark by saying that it was inappropriate for a prince to use such vocabulary, his younger brother only gave him a grim look indicating that he himself was torn internally, ashamed of his weakness.

He thought then, moving ahead, amused, that his brother had inadvertently contributed to something that was certainly not his original plan.

These kids really wanted it.

He felt shame because, looking at them, he wondered how he really felt about his wife. He recognised that she was his companion and lover, whom he respected and cherished, but she was not his friend, he could not allow her into the depths of his heart.

Only when he saw Rheanyra did he feel something more; he had the feeling that the air around them quivered when they spoke, he sensed that she understood perfectly the source and reason of his impulsive nature.

Despite this, he found his life peaceful and prosperous, and the death of his wife in childbirth was something shocking and painful to him. He covered his grief with laughter, the thought that he had wasted years of her life, a wonderful, beautiful woman who deserved someone to love her with all her being, giving her something more than a substitute of affection.

Then, however, his nephew lost an eye and everything fell apart like a house of cards, showing how weak their family actually was.

The events that followed wove together in his mind, the closeness of Rhaenyra and their later nuptials brought him a sense of relief, as if two parts that belonged together had been joined.

He watched her daughter from afar, the sadness and grief painted on her after all still so young and innocent face made her seem to him pale and lifeless, at once beautiful, cool and inaccessible, walking around Dragonstone like a ghost, not speaking to anyone despite how much his daughters tried to get close to her.

She was warm, helpful and welcoming when anyone approached her, but did not raise any discussions herself, eating and drinking little at suppers, immersed in her thoughts.

He knew that she was with them only in body.

He decided not to make the same mistake as with his nephew and offer her his interest, his support in the ironic and mischievous form peculiar to him, the only way in which he could show his affection to anyone.

What surprised him was how much she clung to him, how often she cried during their walks together; despite her innate vulnerability she had a strength of character that he appreciated – she was inclined to rash actions or anger, but she was also not docile or naive, she tried to find order in the chaos that surrounded her.

Only he and his niece had been invited to Aegon's nuptials to Helaena; Alicent had expressed in her letter her concern that the meeting of their children might affect them badly and reawaken old wounds, which his wife took as a reasonable argument, and indeed, albeit reluctantly, it was only the two of them who travelled to the Red Keep.

The whole ceremony in the Great Sept dragged on endlessly for him; he looked around, bored, unwilling to stare at the horrified, sad faces of his nephew and niece, testament to the fact that neither of them wanted this marriage.

The wedding supper held in the fortress was lavish with dancing and music, lords from all over the kingdom descended and gathered in the throne room at large, long oak tables filled to the brim with food. Sitting down in his seat next to his wife, he glanced sideways and noticed a figure looking at him intensely, the One-Eyed Prince staring at him coolly, his lips pressed into a thin line.

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief and admiration, finding that he looked like a man, well-built and muscular, tall, his hair much longer, a black eye patch covering the left side of his face.

He grinned with amusement and mockery, wondering to what he owed his attention, and his nephew only hummed under his breath, looking away, apparently discouraged by his reaction.

He wondered, looking at him, taking a sip of wine from his goblet, if he had shown him fatherly concern then, taken him under his wing, separated him from Alicent and Otto, he would be a different man now.

Several toasts were made to the bride and groom, during each of which Aegon drank his cup to the bottom, clearly intent on fulfilling his marital duty completely drunk.

"Stop it. You've had enough." Growled his younger brother, taking his goblet from him with an aggressive flick of his hand, setting it impatiently far from his older brother's reach.

Aegon slapped him angrily on the shoulder, mumbling something under his breath; his younger brother stood up, towering over him, showing him wordlessly that if he touched him again he would regret it.

"Aemond." Said their mother, this green whore, who was looking at them in pain, her hands folded in front of her as if to pray.

His nephew rolled his eyes and left the hall by a side entrance, furious, unwilling and unable to look at it apparently; Aegon with a wide grin reached for his cup again and to his despair took the empty seat next to him that had been occupied earlier by his wife, now conversing with the King.

"Uncle! So many years." He mumbled, tapping him on the back in a friendly, masculine greeting. He rolled his eyes, amused, smelling the stench of alcohol and sweat from him.

"As you can see, everything stays in the family. I don't know how I'm going to survive this. After all, she'll surely cry. Fuck." He muttered, taking a deep, catchy sip from his cup, tilting it so that he drank it all at once.

He ran his tongue over his lower lip, feeling discomfort at the thought that he felt compassion for Helaena for what was about to happen to her.

"She doesn't seem to fully understand what I will have to do to her. After all, she's my sister. I don't want to hurt her. She's odd and I don't understand her, but I don't want her to fucking cry." He mumbled out covering his face with his hand, his voice breaking with his every word – he drew in air loudly as if he was out of breath, and he looked at him not knowing what to do.

He glanced at her sad, petite figure; she sat gazing off into the distance somewhere, dreamy.

He wondered as he watched her if she realised what awaited her.

What was he supposed to answer him?

"Be gentle and kind. Make her feel as little pain as possible. You know very well that how it will look lies in your hands. If you want her to suffer as little as possible, stop drinking because it will take you a fucking hour." He growled, taking the cup from his hand just as his younger brother had earlier, and wondered if that was what he meant then, if he knew his condition would only worsen whatever was to await them next.

"You pity yourself and you smell of alcohol and sweat. Go take a bath or do you want to lay on her like that? Give her some dignity for goodness sake." He said coolly, looking ahead indifferently; his nephew swallowed loudly, sitting beside him like a little rebuked child, playing with his fingers.

He wondered, looking at him out of the corner of his eye if his brother had ever spoken to him about it, if he had prepared him and explained to him how he should behave.

"All my life I've envied him. My brother. He had someone of his own who cared about him. I think he really loved her, uncle. Now I barely recognise anyone myself. I'm not sure any of us are the same person anymore. Only Helaena has remained the same − innocent and ignorant. That's because she doesn't step outside her mind. If she did, she would have gone mad like we did."

It turned out that he was partly right.

What he didn't expect was that when they arrived all together as a family after several years in King's Landing to defend Luke's rights to inherit the Driftmark these two would be lying in bed with each other on their very first night.

"If you tell me you still want to marry him, I will help you. I'd rather you be his wife than lead you and him into a scandal that could destroy your mother. Your betrothal has never been called off, the king will easily prove that no other plans for you can be in force against his decision. But if you decide not to, I will personally see to it that you never see him again and that no letter of yours leaves Dragonstone. Make a manly, mature decision with all its consequences, and stop wallowing over yourself."

He told her then, wanting her to understand that they could not stand in the middle, that they had to choose, or their decisions would drag them all down.

Watching them in the throne room audience, however, the greedy, desperate gaze of his nephew fixed on her as if he wanted to devour her gave him no illusions.

What this boy was telling himself was one thing, but what he was feeling was another.

It was this thought that made him decide to question Alicent's decision in front of everyone, wanting to hear his brother's opinion on the matter, the only one that really counted. He had expected nothing but objections from both sides, however, against the desperate attempts of their mothers, his nephew and his niece's daughter made a decision that did not surprise him at all.

It was enough for her to get up from her seat and walk out to make him press his lips together in rage and follow her out, exactly as he had done then, in the courtyard, when he had thrown himself after her, and she knew perfectly well that he would do so, knowing his nature.

He wondered if she had kissed him this time too, if the tension between them had eased.

He thought that this marriage might actually calm the emotions a little, especially as his brother was over his deathbed.

This union was forcing both parties to be cautious, which could be mutually beneficial.

"She has decided that she wants to stay in the Red Keep until I return." His wife said to him, putting her black leather gloves on her hands, walking beside him towards the dragon's lair. He stopped, looking at her in disbelief, furious.

This was not the plan.

"What?" He growled, looking at her as if she had completely lost her mind. "You're leaving my daughter in the care of that whore and her father-traitor?"

He saw that she smiled at his words emphasising that in his eyes she was his child, that he had taken responsibility for her and protected her as any true father should.

"She asked me to do this. I imagine they both want to clarify a lot of things with each other. Since the nuptials are to take place as soon as possible there is no need to fret, I will personally take her back in a few days." She replied calmly, and he let out a loud breath, impatiently licking his lips.

It was a bad idea, he could feel it in his bones, but he didn't protest and that was his mistake.

The next day he lost two of his daughters.

Rhaenyra, his brother's heir to the throne fell with a groan when envoys reported to her that her father was dead, that her brother had been crowned king, that they had imprisoned their daughter.

She cried out loudly in pain, clutching at her womb; at first he thought it was despair, but then he saw the pool of blood beneath her feet, her terrified gaze, her lips parted in agony.

They both knew it was too soon.

Their daughter already looked like a tiny infant, but sadly her fate was sealed; she wasn't moving or breathing, she was cold, looking more like a doll than a human being.

He felt that he had to leave the fortress; he followed exactly where he always went out with her, with one of his daughters, to the sea itself, and he fell to his knees, breathing heavily, not knowing what he was supposed to do with the rage and chaos that overtook his mind.

He wanted to mount Caraxes and burn them all.

However, his cousin and daughters had cooled his ardour, recognising that they needed to prepare, gather an army, make a plan of action.

He recognised that it was only female sentiment, a weakness that kept them from making the risky decision that his whole life consisted of.

When his wife finally recovered from her brief mourning, despite his entreaties, she did not listen to him and decided to send her sons as her representatives, wanting to extract the pledge of allegiance from those who had paid her tribute many years ago.

He had thought it nonsensical, however, when Luke returned from Storm's End it turned out that his step son had been a naive idiot.

"You flew after him? You flew after him knowing he could imprison you, use you as your mother's weakness? Fucking fool." He growled, turning away from the table with fury, massaging his face with his palm, not believing he could have done such a thing.

"Daemon." Said Rhaenyra in a voice trembling with despair; she looked at her son, trying to calm herself. "What happened next?"

"He brought her. Someone hit her, mother, and I think she tried to take her own life. There were cut marks on her wrists." He muttered, forcing himself into a calm tone of voice.

He turned towards him, looking at him with his heart beating fast.

She had done this for them, so they could attack the Red Keep without fear.

She wanted to make a manly decision, to sacrifice herself, his brave daughter, his little dragon.

"Gods." Said his wife, clutching at her womb, apparently involuntarily recalling the moments when she had carried her under her heart, the maternal tears of pain in her eyes.

"And then?" He finished for her, seeing that she didn't have the strength to get anything else out, Luke swallowed hard, afraid to look at him.

"I told her to run away with me, but she didn't agree. She told me to tell you that she loves you and that she remains faithful to you, mother." Said with difficulty, Jace slammed his fist on the table, furious.

"That fucking bastard purposely made her stay. He planned this, he never had any intention of marrying her!" He said red with anger and he glanced at him indifferently, sighing heavily.

"And then what? He let you just walk away? No one else saw you?" He asked further, pretending not to have heard his outburst; Jace pressed his lips together, furious. Luke shook his head quickly.

"N-no, I was surprised, but no. Forgive me, I had to see her, make sure that she is still alive." He muttered, and he sighed heavily, placing both of his hands on the table, leaning over it, and closed his eyes, trying to focus.

He let her see him without any other witnesses and then let him go even though he hated him, even though he could have trapped and humiliated him.

Why?

A memory flashed through his mind, the way his nephew cursed as he fought with himself to finally run after her, her smile full of reassurance as she turned to him knowing he would follow her, his blush of embarrassment and lazy smile as her lips placed a soft, warm kiss on his cheek, her proof of her devotion and affection that he craved so much.

He had never stopped loving her.

This stone-cold, dangerous man had done something for her, surely after she had tried to take her own life.

"Bring me a parchment and a quill. I need to speak with my nephew."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[writingoddess1125]

I Fell in love Alone

Was on my sad Spotify and thought of this. First sad fic!

Enjoy Depression!!

Sad Angst

No warnings just sadness

Buggy x GN reader

Part 2

Sitting up from bed, you covered yourself with the large patchwork blanket still nude from the evening before and alone like every morning after.

For 6 months it had been this way with your Captian- the infamous Captian Buggy, at first it had started off as a drunken fling but he kept calling you back.. every night he called for you, had you sit close to him, whisper sweet words over how you were his only. This had continued for these 6 months but every day that passed you couldn't help but feel... empty?

It was like his words had become no better then a script that he followed in order for you to stay the night in his bed, like his touches were to only satisfy his need and not to savor you.

Sitting there in his large bed you look around, like for the first time you'd seen it. Had he ever spent a morning with you? Ever bothered to wake you up from your slumber?... had he ever kissed you? A hollowness began to fill your soul as the realization flooded you.

Getting up you dress quickly, not wanting to stay in the room any longer as that hollowness seemed to fill you further. Rushing out quickly you head out to go to the messhall for a meal, walking in you heard the place filled to the brim. No one bothered to question were you had come from- everyone knew.

Getting your food you sat with a random group of performers.

"Oh person of the month I see" Some of them giggle at you, they always did this- while they were too fearful to outright call you our of your name they would do this instead.

"You do know I heard (Y/N) his flavor of the month right? Is pushing six months- Gotta say longest Captian has had so theyve gotta be doing something right"

The juggler girl said with a laugh, the others at the table also agreeing. Some of the people there talking about their time with the Captian as well, you sitting quietly pushing around your breakfast as you felt a hole in your heart developing with each tale of passionate nights and sweet nothings he had said to your fellow crewmates that he did bed drunk or sober alike.

Their words felt like blades against paper skin and they just cut so deep.

After exiting the messhall you went to your post- continuing to do the large labor of your job, the pull from your muscles and sweat from your back not even facing you as the labor felt better then his gaze which you knew was following you. He always did like to watch you, Normally you turn back and smile at him savoring his validation but.. not now.. not ever again.

You hadn't stopped, not until the call for dinner had brought you out of your working daze. The need for food beating the emotional exhaustion, so you headed back to the mess hall to gather some food.

Making a plate you try to hide, seeing Buggy was there laughing loudly and drinking. You knew the moment he saw you he'd-

"Ah there you are (Y/N)! Come over here" He said with a laugh and waved you over. Reluctantly you did, knowing were he wanted you- seated right to his side so he could show you off while speaking with his underlings. Like a child showing off his shiny toy.

He laughed loudly, his hand finding its way to your hip as he held you close.. your skin crawling st the feeling as you felt more like an object then anything romantic at this point.

"So as I was saying- I'm sure (Y/N) doesn't mind- besides I'm sure they would wear a (least favorite color) leotard for the next show!" He laughed, his hands still on you as he spoke like you weren't even there. It felt like he had just stabbed you in the chest, as a burn of embrassment surgery through you. Looking up to see a few of your peers from afar looking at you, like for the first time you had seen the pity in their eyes and the second hand embrassment at the sight of you.

"Buggy... what is my favorite color?" You ask calmly, He looked at you with a raised brow laughing off the question as he thought it was a joke at first. It wasn't until he caught your eye that he realized you were serious and his lips sealed shut at the lack of answer.

"....When is my birthday?" You ask a different question, a realization of what you were doing set in and he gave a laugh placing his hand back on your hip.

"I know we're your birthmark is" He says with a laugh as the other crewmates in earshot laughed as well. You gently peel his hand from your hip and stand up, Walking out of the mess hall as you hear Buggy call after you which you ignored.

Humiliation shot through your system as the feeling of hot tears warmed your eyes... you were a fool- The biggest fool in this entire circus that you were apart of. Walking out onto the deck you grab one of the spare blankets that seemed to always be left out, wasn't like anyone really kept the place organized anyway..

Standing by the railing of the ship you wrapped the blanket around yourself tighter, looking out at the endless sea. At night like this when the moon was full it looked like you were sailing on stars.

"Hey There you are! What the hell was that about? You made me look like a fool in there!-" Buggy started, you could hear he was buzzed just by the jovial tone in his voice.

"Ha... you the fool.. hilarious" You say softly the feeling of fresh tears staring to run down your face-

"Aw don't be that way baby! Come on its no big deal anyway, let's say I make it up to you back in my cabin and we forget this night even happened"

You look back at Buggy, The large tears running down your cold cheeks. He froze, his heart clenching at the sight of you like this and he.. didn't know what to do- What to say. Had you ever cried in the times you had know him.

"Whats wrong why are yo-" You cut him off quick. Closing your eyes tightly in hopes to stop the tears.

"What is my favorite color?.. a food I like.. anything?" You whispered out, Biting your lip to keep a sob back.

"I...I what do you want me to say (Y/N)?.. I mean is it uh Is it Gray? Blue? Red? I mean you like... Me?" He managed to breath out a forced laugh, swallowing a lump in his throat as he gestured randomly around himself like you could understand how ridiculous this was for him.

"You don't love me do you?.. I really am just am your flavor of the month right?"

Buggy's face falls at your words. You take a shaky breath at this and wait for his answer, but he just stands there opening and closing his mouth unable to form words- A mix of a gentle sob and laugh finally escape you at his lack of answer.

You sniffles and wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself as if it could cover the vulnerability you felt and fear in your heart. Turning away from Buggy as you slowly walked past him, wiping the few remaining tears away.

"You know....I never thought I'd fall in love alone. Goodnight Captian..."

You say softly before heading downstairs, leaving Buggy standing on the deck of his ship alone and a pain he had never felt before in his heart.

[nytb]

Flying Private

Being a public figure came with a price – little to no privacy, secrecy, crazy paparazzi – it seamed to be a nightmare, but hidden in-between it’s flaws Alexia found some perks.

The Catalan star’s crazy schedule didn’t help her private life, love life out of the window – for now – Alexia focused on her public appearances, helping women’s football grow.

Trip to Paris here, quick appearance in Rome, little interview in London – Alexia was everywhere.

Behind the scenes, a key piece of the puzzle; Y/N Y/L/N. Joan Laporta’s loyal pilot. They had grown close over the years and when Joan became Fc Barcelona’s president – for a second time – he invited Y/N on the journey.

And so it began, Y/N flew all Barcelona players to every corner in the world; preseason in the USA, basketball games here, European football matches there. Y/N was crucial for Fc Barcelona to keep everyone’s public appearances up while allowing them to get the optimal rest before crucial games.

With Y/N’s little vacation possibilities, Laporta offered the pilot a compromise – whenever the plane was land-bound Y/N was able to do as she pleased. The possibility to travel all over the world, stay at the best hotels, eat the best food; it was Y/N’s dream job.

Unluckily for Y/N, the latest trip to Madrid came with a personal compromise; Y/N had to step in and replace a security member’s role.

All plans out the window now, the loyal pilot followed orders to a T – shadowing the Catalan star during the three day trip, keeping an eye out during meals, making sure that whenever Alexia sneaked out she returned safe and sound.

That night the midfielder’s annoyance at the lack of personal space was noticeable – add that she was in a foul mood and you get an explosive combination; and explode she did. Now safe and sound at the hotel, both Alexia and Y/N were at the bar. The pilot kept a safe distance from the midfielder.

“Is shadowing people like you’re a lost puppy a habit of yours or have you reserved it only for me?” Alexia asked as she approached the pilot, annoyance in her tone.

“I see that your evening has calmed down – for now at least – I will leave you with the remaining security team.” Y/N replied, pointing to the two security guards of the hotel, downing the rest of her drink she added “And seen as how you’re in a foul mood, I will take this opportunity to go and get my well deserved rest in”

The indifference that radiated off of Y/N’s voice was palpable, many people would describe it as cocky – arrogant even – but Alexia found it intriguing.

The Catalan star grew accustomed to everyone treating her a certain way; admiration and love in their voices whenever someone approached her, but Y/N? The pilot treated Alexia like she was any other Joe in the world.

Sitting at the bar now, the midfielder was dumbfounded – watching how the pilot walked away, not even looking back once – she was bamboozled.

Replaying the interaction over and over, Alexia was stuck looking for ways to get back in the good graces of the pilot. The midfielder knew she had to apologize for her bad behavior.

Early in the morning, Alexia made her way to one of Spain’s most famous bakeries: El Riojano. Getting some delicious Spanish pastries, among them Y/N’s favorite: ensaimada, a mallorcan specialty. Alexia made her way back to the hotel – crossing path with the pilot at reception, Y/N didn’t say a word.

Later on, as everyone boarded the private jet headed back to Barcelona, Alexia carefully placed the paper bag filled with pastries on the seat closest to the cabin. At first, Y/N looked at the bag from afar but as she made her way to the front of the plane, she inspected it – looking for it’s owner.

“Is this anybodies?” The pilot asked, looking around a sneaky Putellas popped her head up “I got those for you, a little gift to make up for my behavior yesterday” the midfielder sneaked a cheeky smile in.

For the first time, Y/N didn’t display indifference towards the Barcelona star “Thank you, they are my favorite” the pilot stated to which, very quietly – as Y/N made her way to the cabin – the midfielder whispered “I know”

And thus a tradition was born. During the season, Alexia would go out of her way to purchase Y/N’s favorite pastries, placing them on the seat closest to the cabin. It was their little ritual.

One morning – on one of Fc Barcelona Femenis champions league trips – the team discretely inspected Alexia’s delivery.

“What was that about?” Pati asked, taking the seat besides the Catalan midfielder “What was what?” Alexia played it cool, but her face spoke louder. The midfielder was blushing, looking everywhere but into Patri’s eyes.

“Feeling shy?” Mapi mocked her captain.

This was new for everyone – Alexia included. Usually, she was the bold, direct type; but with Y/N she forgot how to act. Luckily for the midfielder, Y/N was oblivious to the mocking – and as she made her way to the cabin – the pilot picked the little paper bag up, taking one of the ensaimada out and straight into her mouth it went. Sending Alexia a thank you head-nod as she greeted the co-pilot.

It all made sense now.

“OMG” Pina was shocked “You’re sleeping with our pilot??” the mini Putellas asked, the rest of the team waited anxiously for an answer.

“It’s not like that” Alexia defended her situation “I – I just”

Mapi came in like a bolder, mockingly nudging at her captain’s arm “She might have done her ACL in, but girly is still out here scoring” the defender joked.

“Shhhh” Putellas was embarrassed, not wanting Y/N to hear any of the teams shenanigans – for however true they were – she distracted them.

“Yeah yeah… maybe it would be best” Paños stepped in “We wouldn’t want the pilot to be distracted” she further mocked.

Part 2

[highonmarvel]

Ribs (II)

Bucky Barnes: Mob!Bucky has you. 18+ only.

Part I: Ribs

content warnings here!

You have limited mobility in your left arm without having sharp pain shoot across your shoulder and, of course, damaged knee caps—Dr Banner replaced the shattered one, luckily your right knee only had flesh wounds, no damaged cartilage; you still needed a cane to walk, but three months later you could at least walk without the help of another person. Theee months.

How you had survived was more a curse than a blessing, you wished you’d just died on the spot.

Bucky hadn’t hurt you since, and if you didn’t know better, you might have assume he felt genuine remorse and guilt over his actions. He’d dragged you to the car and you assumed sedated you, because you next woke up in a hospital bed. He wasn’t even there when you opened your eyes. After everything he couldn’t even be bothered to fucking show up.

Dr Banner you wanted to believe was a good man who had just got caught up with Bucky’s line of work—you remember vaguely hearing Banner “owed him” and he was now his personal medic, patching him and his men up when things went awry. He had a sad look in his face when he noticed you gaining consciousness; he didn’t speak, you (physically) couldn’t, neither of you had to—he could sense the disappointment in you, that he was going to help cover up such a violent assault, so violent you couldn’t imagine Bucky had ever tortured one of his enemies this way—maybe he fucked them up, and fucked them up bad, but raping someone was beyond.

It took a few days for you to be able to be able to speak coherently and sit up on your own after initially waking up—not once did Bucky visit.

But Steve did.

Bucky was extremely strict with you not getting involved in his business, not talking to any men, including his own. You had seen Steve a few times, spent a little time with him as you waited for Bucky to wrap something up, and gathered he was Bucky’s right hand man, but you’d never really spoken to him, and you got the sense he was under strict orders not to speak to you.

His visits were short and from afar, but you caught him watching through the window a few times with the most somber expression: he knew this had gone too far.

One night, Dr Banner had left, the nurse slipped out for the second, and you caught Steve through the window, mouthed the words “Help me.”

His eyes widened, he looked down both sides of the corridor and you were sure he was going to rush in and do something, get you out, or even just speak to you, if not for encouragement at least some form of brief conversation outside of basic health questions with Dr Banner would have done—he could even have yelled at you, you just felt like you needed to speak to someone—but he didn’t; he shook his head and left.

Three weeks later you could go back “home,” they said—Bucky’s penthouse wasn’t home. It wasn’t a hospital you were in, it was one of Banner’s labs with a few hospital beds, the drive to the penthouse was less than ten minutes. Bucky hadn’t visited. You had expected to see him in the car, but when you were put in, it was a blond instead.

The door shut, the car started rolling, and Steve didn’t look at you.

“Steve,” you breathed, though you couldn’t reach towards him with your arm in a sling, “Please help me.”

He stared straight ahead, but you saw him gulp; you knew he was opposed to this, opposed enough to go against Bucky? You couldn’t even beg, plead for him to help, you were still a little fucked out on pain killers, but you had noted that day you could get him to help, even in just the slightest way. You could.

Steve pushed you in on a wheelchair, and when the elevator opened to reveal the lavish foyer, Bucky stood with a glass of scotch in hand and a small smile, a soft look in his blue eyes you never thought you’d see again.

He crouched down, eye level with you, “I’ll never hurt you again. Never.” And you had heard that before, you knew better than to believe him, but you just wanted this to be over, you forced yourself to believe him as tears spilt from his eyes, just enough to get through hell.

Even through the drugs, you could feel your ribs sting.

Three months now, and you went down for a glass of water in the middle of the night, not that you needed it, but you needed to get out of the bed you shared with a devil. He stirred, asked where you were going, he knew you had a glass right next to you, but you told him you just needed to stretch your legs more than anything, but only to the kitchen. To your surprise, he didn’t protest.

You hobbled down the stairs, cursing the winding steps as you made your way down, slowly.

Upon entering the kitchen,

“Steve.”

You say as you spot him leaning against the counter.

“You need to leave.”

Tears spring to your eyes. You knew it; you knew there was good in him; you knew he could do it.

You nod furiously as you take a step towards him.

There’s a sound, a loud sound, and a hole in Steve’s head, red seeping from his forehead, down his face, blank blue eyes staring back at you.

You can’t even scream, there’s a hand on your mouth instantly. Now you shake your head, struggling to breathe under the force of a palm pressed against your lips, heavily breathing through your nose, tears streaming down your face with such speed you’re momentarily worried you’ll run dry, dehydrated yourself and collapse on the kitchen floor.

Maybe this time he’ll kill you.

A knee connects with the back of your bad one and you fall forward onto your hands and knees, that splintering pain shooting through your legs again. You drop onto your stomach with a cry, reaching shaky hands down to hold your knees.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky coos as he crouches. He runs a hand down your cheek which you can’t even slap away, your own holding your legs as you breathe so shakily and heavily you’re near hyperventilating, body trembling.

“That wasn’t to hurt you, I just needed to get you down, okay? I didn’t hurt you, see?” he tries, tone gentle and assuring.

You manage to stretch your neck back to look up the room. You hadn’t even heard Steve’s body hit the ground, but there it lays, blue eyes once full of emotion devoid of it, and still staring back at you. Blood pools around him, staining the pristine white of the ostentatious kitchen.

Bucky places a hand on the back of your neck, bends your head forward to face him again.

“I don’t want to do this again,” he murmurs, eyes welling with tears, “I don’t want to hurt you again, but you can’t leave me, angel, you know that; it hurts both of us, and everyone around, see? Steve’s dead, my best friend, because of you; you killed my best friend.”

You don’t have the will to fight anymore; you’re broken, physically and mentally. You want to just nod, and you want to apologise, but you can’t through silent screams leaving your throat as you try to calm yourself from the hot, unbearable pain in your knees.

“And I still love you. I know you’re confused, but you love me too. Doll, you can do anything to me; scream, kick, try to kill me, if that’s what you want… but don’t ever leave me.”

His voice goes dark as he emphasises those last few words, so dangerously low you’re worried you’ll slip into that tone and keep falling in, and those words, more so the way he said them, will haunt you forever.

“That’s the one thing: don’t leave. I know it’s been difficult, but look at you still standing. Everything can be fine, you just have to stay. I can change, just don’t leave. I love you.”

It’s not love, nowhere near close, and you wish he’d never used that word and that he’d never use it again, it’s some fucked up need to possess, keep and own, to have and to hold, as an object, it’s like he just wants a doll—maybe that’s why he calls you that.

He places his gun aside, deliberately away from you, you can tell, and sits cross-legged next to you. His fingertips lightly graze your left shoulder. You wince through your other frantic efforts to adjust to your much more prominent pain, and he snatches his hand away, like you’re hot to the touch. Slowly, he brings his fingertips back, and though you jerk slightly, he doesn’t pull away. Calloused fingers graze where your shoulder had been popped out of place, and so gently he does it for a moment you forget he’s the one that caused it.

He presses down harder, and you cry out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over like a prayer. You look up at him and see that sinister glint in his eyes, that thing that possesses him, that look you know better than well, that look engraved into your mind, so deep it’s an integral part of you, at this point.

That sadistic glint. He will never change; he can’t change. And you can’t escape.

✪

[kaedekolya]

clarence and his counterparts: man or monster?

So we were talking about Clarence’s new android SSR (Faint Night Light) in the LBC discord server, and it got me thinking about the monster allusions that seem to be a common thread across Clarence’s main stories. Then we discussed the diary entries from his White Day event, and it occurred to me that this monster imagery also ties into his modern-day counterpart – and with that, this post was born.

In other words: is Clarence a man, a monster, or somewhere in between?

[ SPOILERS: Clarence’s main stories and Chrono Theatre diaries. This meta post is structured as story-specific sections, namely Godheim, Eden, and the modern world, so you can skip over the world(s) you haven't read yet. No Awakening spoilers, don't worry! ]

- ☽ -

Godheim: Archmage Clarence

First, let’s talk about Godheim Clarence. As the Archmage, he bears a heavy responsibility upon his shoulders – to oversee the Magi Tower, to fight the Glacial Butterflies, and, ultimately, to protect the country and its people.

In order to fulfil this duty that he has chosen to undertake, Clarence seals his heart and shuts others out. He denies his emotions, and resents himself for having these emotions, to the point that he disparages MC for “[acting] impetuously” and belittles her capabilities when she shows concern for Amelia’s wellbeing. Archmage Clarence’s impassivity is his shield against the emotions he views as a hindrance.

Yet he was not always this way. Clarence is a casualty of cruel circumstances, a tender soul torn apart by trauma. When MC is confronted with the truth of the mages’ magic, having witnessed a mage die before her very eyes, she notes that “[there] is no pain or compassion on Clarence’s face,” because “[this] is a sight he has seen all too many times before.” Decades of watching his fellow mages succumb to the Glacial Butterflies that nest inside them, and decades of having to end the lives of mutating mages under his purview, have conditioned Clarence into numbing his heart to such pain. How else could he have stayed sane, after a century of bearing witness to suffering wrought by his own hands?

Archmage Clarence’s disposition is initially described by MC as an “[icy] presence,” but this is the facade that he projects as a defence mechanism, not his genuine self. Clarence is so accustomed to the chill of the Glacial Butterflies within him that he has taken on the frost as a personality trait, believing that his frigidity defines him. He does not view himself as a human capable of warmth; instead, he thinks of himself as a mutant, as an icy monster.

Even so, Clarence cannot deny his innate inclination towards kindness. When he notices that Amelia isn’t feeling well, he tells her to sit in the carriage. When Amelia’s temperature drops, he casts a spell to warm the shivering child up, even as he grumbles that he’s wasting his time and magic. When Amelia’s death is imminent, he tries to send her off in the gentlest way possible, then grants her final wish by conjuring a connection to the water mirror. Clarence may insist that he does not care, but his actions reflect his compassion.

It is this very kindness that steers him towards a path of selfless sacrifice, for the sake of his country and its people. The life of a mage may have been forced upon him, by the man that gave a gravely injured child no other option but the potion that would transform him, yet Clarence learns to harness his power for good. He spends his youth eliminating Glacial Butterflies and protecting the village of the snow plains, and despite the harsh conditions of the path he now treads, he does not hold a grudge against the family that sold him off and thrived in the resulting profit. Instead, he returns to check on them from afar, and when an onslaught of Glacial Butterflies attack, he protects them with every last bit of energy within him.

Still, his family’s betrayal left an indelible mark on his psyche. Back when he’d been given the potion, he’d resolved to succumb to his injuries rather than drink it. Despite his instinctive desire to live, MC notes that his “will to live [had been] virtually non-existent,” because there is “[no] despair greater than being betrayed by your own family.” The young Clarence had not seen a reason to live, when his family had forsaken him. It is only when MC saves him, urging him to live on, that he resolves to survive and repay this debt. Each time MC encounters him in her voyage through time, he is on the verge of death, and each time, his dwindling will to live stems from his despair over those he could not save. What ultimately keeps him alive is the vow he swore to his saviour.

This characterisation is one that carries through his immortal lifespan. Clarence does not live for himself; he lives for others. Whether that means risking his life to defend a village, or sacrificing himself in a ritual to save the country’s inhabitants, the underlying premise is the same – Clarence lives for the person who saved him, and for the promise he made to them. He allows others to form negative opinions of him based on the assumptions they’ve made, in order to keep the secret of the ritual and the Glacial Butterflies from them, because their scorn towards him matters less than their safety. He closes himself off from others, never permitting them to reach out to him, because he cannot allow companionship and compassion to distract him from his purpose. He “[cannot] afford to be sentimental,” because he cannot have anyone or anything clouding his judgement. Better to be the enemy of the state that saves it, than the friend of the state that cannot do anything as it crumbles. 

It is ironic, then, that Clarence’s devotion to his promise leads him from striving to live and fulfil it, to voluntarily dying for that same promise. His life, his existence itself, is secondary to the promise he has made. He will live to protect the world for his saviour, but if the only way to protect it is to die, then die he shall. Perhaps he views it as a penance of sorts, an atonement for the sins he’s committed. Perhaps he believes the new world would be better off without a monster like him.

For all his calculative callousness and stoic solitude, Clarence is deeply self-aware. Not only is he conscious of the suffering he inflicts and the ramifications of his actions, but he also ruminates upon his sins until they turn to guilt in his gut and self-loathing in the deepest recesses of his soul. He does not turn a blind eye to the pain he witnesses; instead, he looks it straight in the eye, internalises it, and forces himself to feel nothing at all.

Clarence may appear to have no qualms about exploiting people and reducing them to cogs in a plan greater than its constituent parts, but his interactions with Amelia prove otherwise. Right before he sends her off on what is meant to be a suicide mission, his carefully-crafted defenses slip, and he asks whether she hates him. Clarence believes that he has failed to live up to the Archmage’s title, that he has fallen short of being a “guiding force for all the mages” and a “protector.” He condemns himself for his callous strategies and merciless manipulation, since he has been treating people like chess pieces and “using them as [he sees] fit.” He disparages himself for “[standing] by on the sidelines, safe and sound.” He believes others hate him because he’s given them all the reasons to, because he deserves to be hated, because he, too, hates himself. All this while, he fails to recognise that he has taken on the greatest sacrifice of all – the burden of leadership, of decision-making, of being responsible for all the blood on his hands.

This downplaying of his own suffering, alongside his disregard of his own well-being, is what drives Clarence to self-sacrifice time and time again. When a theory about the Glacial Butterflies begins to take shape in his mind, he does not test it out on one of his mages, because he does not view them as expendable despite what he claims. Instead, he uses himself for his experiment, slicing his chest open and bearing the agonising pain in order to ascertain the truth of the magic within him.

On the verge of being overcome by the Glacial Butterflies, despite having prepared for this eventuality by shackling his limbs, he makes one last selfless request. “My Lord, you must kill me before I turn,” he entreats, willing to relinquish his own life for the safety of others. Even when Philip protects him from the Glacial Butterflies, refusing to kill him, Clarence believes that there is no place for him in the future that his Lord envisions.

Decades later, he still echoes this same sentiment. “There is no future without sacrifice,” he tells Lars, and he does not see himself as part of that future, does not see himself as deserving of that future. Archmage Clarence thinks of himself as a monster, not a man, and a monster is better off dead than alive.

It is a revelation, to him, that Amelia does not hate him. MC does not hate him. Lars, Alkaid, the mages that carry on the legacy of the Magi Tower, none of them hate him. They do not view him as a monster; they view him as a martyr, a protector, a saviour. Someone who did his best, and gave his all. Archmage Clarence leaves behind a legacy through his sacrifice, spurred by the human heart he still harbours deep within.

- ☽ -

Eden: Falcon Clarence

Next, we have the Falcon Clarence of Eden. The lone ranger of the desert, the mercenary that eliminates Sandswimmers with impeccable precision and works with no one else.

“A bait that only knows how to cry is a burden,” his mentor tells him, and Clarence internalises that into his cognitive framework and guiding compass. It is “the first lesson Liore taught [him];” that he must prove his worth in order to live. His scent lures the Sandswimmers to him, and so he must make himself useful by seeking out danger.

Valued only for his utility as bait, Clarence learns that his worth is determined by his fighting skills. With no other way to survive, he becomes a NEOS by fusing Sandswimmer gems into his body. Clarence pays the price of this acquired power through the gradual erosion of his memories, but that is far from the only thing he has lost. His decision to accept the integration of these foreign, beastly objects into his body has changed him irrevocably. He thinks of himself not as a human, but as a mutant being only one step away from becoming a monstrous Lost. Still, he endeavours to “remember [his] humanity,” because he refuses to become a “mere weapon [that knows] nothing but destruction.” Falcon Clarence understands that he is, by definition, a monster, but he refuses to relinquish the last shreds of his humanity.

In his first encounter with MC, he is rational and pragmatic as always, scrutinising her motives and seeing no reason to work together. Years of solitude, with no one else to depend on, have honed Clarence’s reflexes into an “instinct for self-defence.” Yet his reaction to MC’s request reveals that his solitude has been shaped by circumstance, not entirely by choice. When MC explains her reason for seeking out Eden, even though it does not sound particularly convincing, Clarence accepts it as sufficient and agrees to lead the way. Despite the potential risk of allowing a stranger close, he offers MC a ride on his motorcycle. Subsequently, he continues to help her out, defending the children’s shelter and giving her the gems he’d collected, even as he refuses to follow her any further.

Falcon Clarence claims that he works alone, but everything he does is for the sake of protecting others. He fights in the desert to protect the shelters from Sandswimmers, and he fights in Eden to protect Lin and the other NEOS from the Lost. He brings MC to the NEOS Association, so that she can rest for a night and learn essential skills from Lin. He knows that the night is dangerous, so despite his own preference for working alone, he ensures that MC has a community of protection around her.

Even as he dismisses everything and everyone else as burdens, his actions speak otherwise. Despite having met MC for only a single day, he offers his assistance to her time and time again, from rides on his motorcycle to filling water bottles with her. He could easily leave her to fend for herself, but he chooses not to leave her behind even when that would be the easier way out.

Perhaps the reason Clarence refuses to work with other people is that he’s afraid. Afraid of dragging them down, afraid of becoming their burden. He fears that history will repeat itself. He cannot bear to lose someone he cares for again, so he refrains from caring about anyone at all. Each time Clarence chastises others for being a hindrance, he is reproaching his past self for his inadequacy. Each time he risks his life to protect others, he is atoning for his failure to save his mentor.

MC says that she understands how Clarence feels, because “acting alone means nobody will be hurt because of [him].” In a way, acting alone also protects himself from being hurt. It is a defence mechanism born from his past, when he had to “learn to accept [his] losses” from a young age. He couldn’t afford to grieve Liore for long, not with the constant threat of the Sandswimmers, and so he could do nothing else but “live on with what memories [he] had left.” He’d forced himself to harden his heart to his emotions, but he could not suppress them entirely.

Clarence blames his moment of weakness, of emotional folly, for causing Liore’s death. It was her humanity, even in her final moments as a Lost, that held her back from killing him and caused her to die. He regrets his choice to this day, and perhaps it is this survivor’s guilt that pushes him to fight harder until he reaches the brink.

It is this same guilt, alongside his resolve to not lose anyone else he cares for, that drives him towards self-sacrifice. When he realises that MC needs a soul stone – his soul stone – to open the door within Central Control, he unflinchingly raises his gun to his head, as if it were the natural and logical decision to make. He is ready to offer his life without a moment’s hesitation, because that is the utility he can offer in this moment, in order to keep MC safe and help her achieve her goal. She has given him a reason to fight, and he will die trying to fulfil it.

Ultimately, it is his encounter with MC – and the companionship which blooms from it – that saves him. Without demanding anything in return, she cries for his pain, fights by his side, and shoulders his burdens with him. Clarence doubts his humanity, even as he holds fast to it, since he is all too cognisant of the monstrous traits within. In turn, MC’s unwavering trust reaffirms the humanity within him, reminding him that he is worthy of living.

Falcon Clarence may not be fully human on a biological level, and he may still succumb to the effects of the monsters within him from time to time, but he has managed to preserve his heart and his humanity. His tale is one of healing, of opening up, and of learning to value himself for who he is and not what he can do.

- ☽ -

Modern World: Clarence

Finally, let’s circle back to modern-day Clarence. At first glance, he’s the calm, collected, and capable Student Council president, who always seems to have affairs in order and circumstances under control.

Then, in his Chrono Theatre diary entries, we learn that he had a psychiatrist observing him from a young age, due to his gifted aptitude and exceptional intelligence beyond that of his peers. This revelation sparked a discussion in the LBC discord server, which spurred this message of mine that then became the basis for this meta post:

Clarence is well-versed in decorum, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it comes naturally to him. It’s likely that he learned social etiquette by picking it up from observing how other people behave, so he knows the appropriate responses to give and the socially-acceptable ways to carry himself. However, because this social understanding is not an innate trait but a learned one, there are often times when he doesn’t recognise the need for social niceties, and instead his instinctual response – founded on his internal logic – comes through.

One example of this can be found as early as his second interaction with MC, after she paints an artwork of him:

The polite thing to do would be to express interest in or appreciation of the finished product, regardless of one’s actual feelings towards it. However, Clarence “doesn’t show the slightest interest” in MC’s painting. Does this mean that he doesn’t care for it, and doesn’t see the need to put on a pretence? Quite the contrary. Instead, it’s because he thinks he doesn’t have anything useful to offer in response, and thus he stays silent.

Here, we see a disconnect between how Clarence understands the world, and how other people tend to view it. While most people would appreciate receiving praise or validation, Clarence doesn’t particularly see the need to receive either, and thus doesn’t immediately think of giving them to others. Rather, he takes a more pragmatic approach, focusing on utility; a piece of work deserves feedback for the effort poured into it. However, as a law major, he does not have sufficient knowledge or expertise regarding art. As such, he believes that his feedback would not be useful, and thus it is better not to say anything at all.

This ties into how Clarence views himself as his roles, and the functions he can serve. He understands that he has worth, but he evaluates this worth through his services as the Student Council president, or his contributions as a law intern. When he assists others, he doesn’t think of it as going out of his way to help them; instead, he views it as part of his rightful duty.

As a result, Clarence doesn’t view himself as simply “Clarence.” Rather, he thinks of himself as Clarence, the Student Council president; Clarence, an upperclassman; Clarence, a friend. If he can fulfil someone’s needs through a role that he holds, he will do it, even at the expense of himself.

We see this most prominently in Clarence’s “Break Time” R card story:

When the senior who’s supposed to interpret for an academic speaker falls ill and fails to attend, Clarence steps up to fill their shoes last-minute. William notes that Clarence can be counted on to show up whenever and wherever he’s needed, and MC agrees that he’s “the only one who’s up to the task.”

However, what most people don’t recognise are the sheer lengths Clarence will go to in order to fulfil his duties. On top of his regular responsibilities, filling in for the interpreter caused Clarence to “[burn] the midnight oil” preparing for the speech, and taking care of the sick speaker meant that Clarence could not sleep for two days. He doesn’t recognise that he’s constantly going above and beyond, because to him it’s a given, but he is in fact pushing himself past his limits, and past the line that most people would draw.

It’s interesting to examine MC’s thoughts here, because she interprets Clarence’s willingness to take a nap as a rational understanding that he needs to rest in order to keep functioning. However, this only happens after MC coaxes him into taking a break. If she hadn’t intervened, Clarence would have continued pushing himself until he completed his task – he was already at “the brink of collapse,” and he “only agreed to sleep after [MC] practically begged him to.” Clarence prioritises his responsibilities to the point that he does not recognise his own needs, and thus neglects to take care of himself.

Although modern Clarence doesn’t think of himself as different, or as anything less than a person, it’s evident that he views himself as the roles he fulfils rather than simply as who he is. In turn, this mindset is reflected in his behaviour, which then shapes other people’s perceptions of him. This is how Clarence becomes characterised as the aloof and intimidating Student Council president in the students’ eyes, even though he cares so deeply and helps out so much; most people are unable to look deeper and see Clarence as the person that he is, because he perceives and presents himself through the lens of his roles.

As such, other people often view Clarence as different from themselves – as if he’s operating on a different wavelength, or existing on a separate plane entirely. Modern Clarence’s genius sets him apart from his peers, but more than that, his perspective of himself winds up alienating himself from other people. Clarence views himself as like others, but others view him as unlike them. He blends in well enough, but he doesn’t quite fit in; he has a place in society, but he doesn’t quite belong.

- ☽ -

Clarence, across time and space

Out of all the Clarences thus far, modern Clarence is perhaps the most well-adjusted, and this reflects the importance of having a support system. Godheim Clarence and Eden Clarence were isolated from a young age and survived alone throughout most of their lives, whereas modern Clarence had family and friends around him. He may not have had the most conventional childhood, but he grew up with his older sister Jaclyn and his close friend Luca, and he also had his psychiatrist Ford observing and monitoring his development. Subsequently, after he enters St Shelter Academia, he gains a circle of friends he can rely on, such as William, O’Connor, and, of course, MC.

Expanding upon Clarence’s St Shelter Academia bonds, we see that Clarence has people around him who genuinely like him for who he is, and are willing to support him unconditionally. O’Connor affectionately refers to Clarence with a nickname – “Shi-kun” in the Japanese voiceover, or “Little Si Lan” in the Chinese one – and for all his devious teasing, it’s clear he looks out for his Student Council successor. As for William, he may whine about Clarence’s by-the-book discipline, but his clumsiness and complaints do not preclude him from helping out when needed. For all that Clarence often chastises William, he still relies on him to assist with Student Council matters, and he knows William is someone he can trust.

Compared to these two, MC is a relatively newer connection, but her bond with Clarence runs deep. Right off the bat, she’s able to meet him on his level and banter with him, and he lets down his guard enough to subtly tease her for trying to trick him. As their relationship develops, Clarence grows to trust her, sharing his inner thoughts and admitting his vulnerabilities. MC is a safe haven for him, and she understands him on a level deeper than most. While the other students may fear Clarence for his aloof disposition, or hesitate to approach him due to his detached rationality, MC sees the earnest sincerity woven into his actions and the warmth laced through his words. Others may think of him as an unfeeling robot or a terrifying monster, but MC loves him for the human that he is.

There’s a subtle but interesting juxtaposition here, in which Godheim Clarence and Eden Clarence – both possessing monstrous mutations within them – view themselves as monsters while most others do not, whereas modern Clarence – wholly human – views himself as human while most others do not. All three Clarences are keenly aware of what constitutes them, allowing this biological understanding to shape their perception of themselves, but they do not recognise that their actions paint a different picture to others.

Regardless of the world he inhabits, Clarence constantly straddles the line between man and monster. His selfless nature and dutiful diligence often lead him to self-sacrifice and superhuman feats, creating the illusion of a monster – but beneath this facade lies, always, the heart of a human.

- ☽ -

thank you for reading!♡

if you have any thoughts about this meta post, i'd love to hear them! responses are always welcome, and my ask box is open~

up next: android clarence, and the inevitability of tragedy. where is the line between human and machine? stay tuned for my thoughts on clarence's awakening main story!

[kelppsstuff]

hiii i've been reading some of your work and i LOVE them!! do you mind doing lucifer hcs?? ❤️

Lucifer HC

Masterlist

Warnings: implied nwsf

Awe your so sweet thank you darling, and I hope you like this!

— Noticing each other HC —

Besides Charlie, you would be the one to force him to get his shit together.

After Lilith left him he closed himself off from everyone but their you were, persistent on making sure he wasn’t alone.

(In this I’m just saying your a maid, so I’m sorry if you don’t like it 😭 it’s just the way you two met)

You had been with the Morningstar family for thousands of years. You were the housekeeping.

You had always admired Lucifer from afar. He was the ruler of hell, it was a hard job and you admired on how he actually did it. Free will.

You knew you loved him when you saw him goofing off with little Charlie. You had went to wake her up, like normal, only to find her dad tickling her. He had the brightest smile on his face. And in that moment you loved him. Not that he knew. He never really noticed you.

When Lilith left, he’d fire all the help around the house. Wanting to be completely alone.

However you stayed, because being without him was true hell, and you couldn’t handle that.

At first Lucifer would snap at you. Placing his anger, to the closest thing. You. You never minded, he would immediately apologize after.

Eventually thoughts of Lilith left his mind, being replaced with thoughts of you.

Lucifer saw you in a complete different light when you placed pancakes in front of him on the table, spilling the syrup on accident.

You fessed and apologized over and over, but he didn’t care. You started to clean up you mess.

It was the first time you ever made a mistake in front of him. A piece of hair fell in your face from your frantic cleaning, and you just looked divine.

That day he decided to stop wearing his wedding ring.

— Pursuing you HC —

Lucifer had started his quest by giving you rubber ducks.

Gift giving, along with touch was his love language and boy did he spoil you.

He had decided to go out, and explore the town. (Everyone in hell was talking about it considering how rare it is.) He took you along with him. Anything you’d look at more than one second he’d buy it.

You found it odd, but shook it off. It definitely wasn’t helping your crush on him.

The next venture he took was truly get to know you. Safe to say his “school girl crush” became so much more when he did.

He found that you weren’t perfect, and he loved you even more for it.

When he helped Charlie with her hotel he had decided to get his life in order.

He was tired of hiding his feeling. Tired of hiding behind a broken mask. He just wanted you. To show you how much he was worth.

He started to get more clingy. He would just randomly hold your hand when walking. Would ask you to watch a movie and end up laying in your lap. (He went out to his way to buy a TV.)

Pretty soon, you two had actually started to act like a couple. So he had confessed.

He was thrilled when you said the worlds “I love you too.” His wings flew out as he picked you up, spinning and flying you around.

— Dating HC —

When you wake up, he’d whine for you to go back to bed with him.

Always makes you breakfast.

Gives you a bouquet once a week of your favorite flowers.

Often sings to you. Loves if you sing with him

You two take baths together all the time!

He’ll have zoomies, and I feel like he’d ask you to fly with him every time.

He’ll randomly place his face in your chest, with the excuse “I’m the perfect size.”

He tells you jokes all the time mostly about ducks.

When he has meetings he’ll always drift off in thought about you.

What you’re were doing

What you were doing before he left.

How you got on your knees for him.

Now he has a boner in the middle of a meeting that he’ll make you pay for.

[sprout-fics]

request for ghost 👀 ghost x medic!reader that is basically the opposite of him. super gentle and docile, they’re the sunshine of the team (affectionately named by Soap). ghost is infatuated but refuses to believe someone as good hearted as them could ever be interested in him. like he feels like he’s not good enough for reader but reader is scared of rejection so they also don’t say anything. basically two idiots in love pining for each other

Sunshine (Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN! Reader)

Rating: M

Word Count: 2.5 k

Warnings: Explicit mention of murder, blood, and injuries, I have not played any of the games so if Ghost is OOC then shoot me I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Summary:

“Sunshine” They called you. It was a bit of a misnomer, all things considered. While your sweet, gentle personality was quietly adored off the field, your laser focus and scorching gaze locked that part of you away on mission. Soap had teased you once in the early days as you stitched his arm in a safehouse, saying you had the sweetest, gentlest touch on a medic he’d ever felt.

“Feels like fuckin’ sunshine, corporal.” He slurred, heavy off painkillers as you tended to the bullet in his shoulder. “Best hands I’ve ever had on me.”

You had given him a sharp pinch for the innuendo, but the nickname had stuck anyways.

It had taken some time to earn the trust of the group. They had been burned one too many times to take in a new member without a healthy amount of suspicion. It was only after you had managed to patch them up half a dozen times each that they grew accustomed to your steady, reaffirming presence.

Most of them, at least.

Ghost was a quiet one, living up to his name as he lingered in the shadows, haunting like a specter at the corner of every scene. When he spoke, it was only to issue orders, to patch into the comms and relay intel. Like a wraith, his broad form occupied the corner of your mind, his voice a rough hard scrape like soot against your fingertips. His eyes watched you from afar, deadly, precise, ever true to his aim.

You never see his face.

“Don’t worry, he’s just got a bad chin.” Soap whispers conspiratorially to you as you both lay low over a rooftop that looks over your target. “Like one of those goddamn Hapsburg royals.”

“I doubt that.” You snort, eyes never leaving your scope.

Still, you do wonder sometimes. You can’t help it. There’s something inside you that gravitates towards him like being pulled in by a black hole. The very presence of him draws your eyes to his, dark, unflinching, cold. Sometimes you feel like he can see straight through you, as transparent as a phantom.

“Sunshine, on me.” He barks, and damn if you two don’t make quite the duo- bright sunlight and a dead man walking.

The only times you get glimpses of him are when he’s injured, which is rare. You pull up his sleeve to reveal his forearm, thick, muscular, veiny. For a moment you want to trace your fingers over it, nails scraping against the dark ink in contrast to his skin- a skull.

Ghost’s eyes never leave you as you work, and you don’t notice the way his gaze lingers over your lips, your lashes.

You talk to him as you clean the cut- a sharp slice of a knife from a terrorist who got too close. He had been a step to your left, and you had raised your gun but Ghost had gotten him first. You didn’t even realize the hulking soldier was in your shadow until his knife was buried into the man’s neck and a curse tore from his throat at the blade lodged in his own arm.

The blood drips red across your gloved fingers as you try to distract him from the pain, and yourself from the strange flutter that echoes low in your stomach. Inside, you try to quell whatever this is- this want, this need inside you for him to be even closer, to hear his voice whisper across your skin.

Your nimble fingers work over the wound, neatly gathering the edges. It’ll leave a scar, and you wonder for a moment just how many he has, exactly. What are the stories that tie them to his flesh? The history woven into the sinew of his muscles?

“I’m sorry.” You offer, and your voice is quiet somehow, unable to fill the scant space between you. Sorry that you had been too slow, sorry he had gotten hurt as a result, sorry for having feelings despite yourself.

“…It’s fine.” The Lieutenant offers after several long heartbeats. “I’m fine.”

It’s not fine, not really, but you accept his words regardless.

“Thank you.” Ghost manages after you’re done, and his voice is uncharacteristically subdued. His eyes avert from you, as if he doesn’t want to meet your gaze. That shiver inside you swoops low with uncertainty at his hesitation, but before you can part your lips to speak he’s gone as if he was never there at all.

---

It’s only after a close call that is far too close that things change.

The sniper catches you by surprise, having managed to circle around your group and catch you from behind. The bullet goes straight through your shoulder, and if you hadn’t turned to listen to Price just a millisecond prior you know it would have been through your skull. The impact topples you forward onto the rubbled concrete below you, and the world is spinning, ringing as Price is shouting orders seconds before the rapid pop of gunfire erupts around you.

“Sunshine!!”

You try to stand, to reach for your weapon but it feels like your lungs are caught between a hydraulic press. There’s blood splattered across the ground under your hands and it blurs as your vision tries to right itself from the pain. Someone is calling your name but it sounds like it's coming through water, garbled and distant.

The world around you shifts abruptly, tilting on its axis as a pair of thick cut arms lifts you like you’re no heavier than a sack of flour. Hands reach across you, removing the strap of your rifle from your form and you catch a glimpse of the blood that’s soaked through it, dark and glistening.

“Got ‘em.” A voice gravels next to your ear, and it takes you more than one second to realize its Ghost who’s got you slung over his bulking shoulders, his gear digging into your ribcage as you wheeze and try to ground yourself against the nauseating wave of pain that bubbles up your throat, thick and red.

“Go!” Price barks, and you dimly are aware of the fact that he sounds oddly afraid. “We’ll cover you.”

The world is jostling, turning, shifting, and the sudden dizziness of it all crashes over you as your vision turns black.

---

The next hour comes in flashes of black and red, and you learn later that the bullet narrowly missed an artery- a fatal blow. Your entire left side is soaked in blood by the time you wake, but you’re alive, drowsy, laying down on a cleared off table at the safe house with the dusty kitchen light shining brightly down on you.

You hiss at the brightness and try to move to press a hand to the wound, only for an iron-rod grip to settle your wrist back onto the flat surface under you.

“Don’t.”

You blink for a few moments, turning your head to meet the white skull mask next to you. The lieutenant looks comically too large for the chair he’s sitting in, and with his size his gaze is still above you, gazing down with that unblinking stare

“You lost a lot of blood.” Ghost relays calmly, his grip still on your wrist. It’s nice, the warmth of his hand spilling through his glove onto your clammy skin. “Thought we lost you.”

There’s a tenderness in his voice that surprises you, and you can’t tell if it’s the painkillers helping you imagine it. The fact that he’s sitting here, with you, instead of with the voices that filter in from the other room, should tell you something. Your senses are too cloudy, heavy and weighed down by whatever they gave you for the pain.

“ ‘M not dead.” You manage, voice a hard scrape in your throat. “It’ll take more than that to make me a ghost.”

Maybe it’s the painkiller after all, but you swear you hear him chuckle.

---

You’re haunted after that.

Ghost’s figure is too large for your own shadow, but he stays there nonetheless, dark and omnipresent like a curse. In some ways it is. The constant presence of him forces you to constantly push down that flutter in your stomach, to make sure your eyes don’t linger on his for too long, to not say his name like the soft sigh that it is in your heart. You catch his eyes and feel a rush of warmth creep up your neck under your gear, feel the phantom of his touch skim across your wrist.

You’ve fallen for him.

Fuck.

That itself is not a problem- well, it is, but not as bad as the issue it presents. You can’t say anything. He’s your superior, you’re part of his team, and there are clear boundaries that can’t be crossed in wartime.

More than that though, is the fact that he probably doesn’t feel the same. Ghost has never mentioned anything about romance, even to Soap, who he seems closest with. When you had gently queried the sergeant for intel on the topic he had merely looked at you as if you expected him to know the secret of the afterlife itself. You count your blessings that Soap is dense when it comes to that sort of topic, otherwise he’d be pestering you for weeks about your little secret.

So, you try to contain it, this infatuation of yours, spoon feeding yourself lies about how it’ll pass, how it’s just a phase, that you two were never meant to be. It’s difficult to do just that when he’s always there, crowding into your space like your own personal attack dog, wordlessly present at all times. His eyes trace you as you pass, and you feel the chill of them carve into your bones and leave you trembling and weak.

It's fine, I’m fine. You tell yourself, more than once a day at this point, forcing down the rush of warmth when your eyes meet, when you hear his voice speak your name, when you feel him right fucking behind you.

On top of it all, Ghost starts putting you in the backseat, starts holding you from rooms until they’ve been cleared, and starts treating you like a goddamn rookie. The part of you that is hopeless over him thinks at first he’s being overprotective, watching your six and making sure there will never be a repeat of the incident that nearly cost you your life. You know better than that though, know that Ghost likely doesn’t have feelings for you, that he’s putting you on the back burner deliberately to teach you a lesson over not paying attention- and that pisses you right off.

It takes a while but you manage to corner him back at base after a successful mission where you all but sat on your ass the entire time while he and Price took the lead. You find him lurking in a back hallway, and you can’t contain your uncharacteristic anger as you stride up to him, plant your hands on either side of him on the wall and gaze furiously up at his masked face.

“What.” You grit. “-the fuck was that?!”

Ghost, for what he’s worth, actually looks surprised. The expression is foreign to you, his eyes usually cold and dead, calculating and precise. He stiffens, and even though you barely reach his collarbone with just how gigantic he is, manages to look like he’s actually a bit apprehensive of your stance towards him. In any other situation it would be borderline comical, with how you’re trying to physically intimidate a man much, much larger than yourself, with your arms barely able to box him in on either side.

“Watch your tone corporal.” He replies at last, and there’s a warning in his voice you don’t heed.

“Not until you tell me exactly why you’ve decided to treat me like I don’t know which end of the gun to shoot with.” You snap back, and the look your words earn you is chill inducing. Even so you don’t back down. “You have me being baby-sat during these missions like you can’t trust me.”

“I do trust you.”

The words spill out before he can catch them, and the confession has you both startled and blinking at each other wide-eyed. You feel shock spill across your chest, electric and dazzling for all of a moment. You aren’t surprised at the fact that Ghost trusts you, it’s the fact that he went so far as to say it out loud, voicing a rare instance of his inner thoughts to you in your confusion.

“Then why?” You ask, and you hate the way your voice sounds almost desperate, pleading for an answer.

Ghost stiffens, and you feel his muscles ripple as they brush against you.

“…I couldn’t have you injured again.” He speaks at last, and you know he’s trying to school his voice into a cold indifference, but you can hear the little note of shame there, of guilt.

“I’m going to get injured no matter what. That’s the job.” You point out, unable to contain the bite from your words.

“No.” Ghost manages, and his voice is tight, choked. “Not like that.”

You blink up at him, caught off guard by the sudden vulnerability in his voice, the way he seems to almost be pleading with you.

Yet your entire world screeches to a halt at his next words.

“Because it’s you.”

Your heart beats against your chest like a trapped bird, and suddenly you’re stumbling back from him, back braced against the opposite wall of the hallway as you try to reconcile his words with reality.

Because it’s you.

“Why…why didn’t you say anything?” You croak, hands coming up to your face to massage your temples. “All this time, you…you didn’t say anything.”

Ghost shifts where he stands, and you know him well enough at this point that he’s fighting the urge to walk away, to blend into the shadow and pretend like this conversation never happened.

“You don’t feel the same.” He says bluntly, voice detached and empty as he braces for what he thinks is your inevitable rejection. “And even if you did, I…don’t deserve someone like you.”

Your eyes shoot up to meet his, and you shiver at what you find there. Hurt, longing, desire dark and deep and barely tamed.

“You-“ Ghost manages, and you can feel the discomfort radiating off of him, this brute man built like a tank but taken down by a few tender words. “You’re too good, sunshine.”

Slowly, the pieces fit together, like skin mended together by the seam of a stitch.

He thinks he doesn’t deserve you, bright and radiant as you are. You’re sunshine and he’s Ghost, he’s shadows and darkness and blood and the whisper of death with every bullet. He’s afraid that if he even touches you he’ll dye you dark at the seams, stifle that brightness within you.

He doesn’t know that light illuminates the darkness.

“Ghost.” You manage at last, and there’s a laugh on your lips, sweet and bitter all at once. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

You yank him down and kiss him through his mask, and something radiant glows inside you both.