#it would be like climbing a mountain without ever having lived on one or trained to climb or reading anything on them

[maeve-is-annoying-about-books]

I didn't really wanna talk ahead of the Dungeon Meshi anime but I had this thought bugging me as I was skimming the manga. So, spoilers for what's to come.

I don't think it's any coincidence that Laios' party, out of a cast of infinitely more capable people, makes it to the final floor of the Dungeon. Why? Cause they aren't heroes.

Look at Kabru, he's the poster boy for anime protagonists. He has a tragic backstory, a personal beef with the dungeon, skills trained by a master of the crafts, and a large party who seems genuinely friendly together. He has everything going for him to one day dive to the bottom and gain closure for his story but he just can't. He never will, because the dungeon does not work on his logic. It turns out that there is no plot armor against hearing a siren sing for the first time.

What about Mithrun then? Personally wronged by the Demon, he's the paradigm of vengeance. A tragic hero who will do anything it takes to get to his goal and probably die achieving it. He has a party full of dark history and interesting dynamics, really laden with moral greyness. Not Berserk but a step closer to it than Kabru's story. But he is, unfortunately, also a classic hero archetype, and although his skills are impressive they aren't fit for the ecosystem around him, singleminded vengeance will see you killed by changelings, the cold, or starvation.

Shuro, it's gotta be Shuro right? A man from a distant land but a familiar one to the primary readerbase. He goes back to train, hone his mind, collect a party, and save the love interest from a cruel fate. Perhaps he will learn there is no saving her, and tragically be forced to slay the monster she's become. His journey ends the second Faligon dies, so he has no chance, ever, of becoming the Dungeon Lord. There doesn't need to be any extra traps to deter him, he'll get what he wants at the fourth level and be gone, his desire simply isn't pointed that way.

Laios, on the other hand. None of his party are heroes, they're all here for selfish reasons and have absolutely zero illusions about heroics and greater goods. Laios is here to save Falin, he only wants his sister to be safe. And to eat and document monsters. Marcille is here for forbidden magic and Falin, and her two desires coincide with her resurrection. Chilchuck is here because he got paid up front and can't leave without rumors spreading. Senshi was always here and he just wants to live in peace with nature. None of them have heroic intent, broadly. But it also means they don't have heroic conceit either.

Laios' party will eat anything. They'll run from battle, take shortcuts. They treat monsters not as grand challenges to overcome but something to fight for their lives with. With their teeth if need be. There is no honor here there is only living. Honor gets you strangled by treasure bugs. Revenge will see you abandon your party to giant spiders for the mere shot at your target. Duty sees you skipping meals because your goal is so important. It is striking how different the dungeon is between Laios and the others. They all treat the dungeon as their personal hell to be striven against and conquered, only Laios sees it as an extension of the living world and understands his place in it. And I think that is so fucking cool, it's so multifaceted. Like, their exact skill set is perfect for getting through the dungeon because of how they all treat it. But also because the dungeon wants them there, because they have very personal, strong desires. Desires that shape their skills, and desires shaped by their skills in a kind of Ouroboros.

And it's an interesting question of how much of both factors into their progress in the story.

[tothosewholisten]

Forever Healed | TUA insert

Chapter: 04

<<previous chapter | next chapter>>

Masterlist:

…

NOVEMBER 11, 2002

Two months flew by since I was first brought here and I started to form bonds with my supposed siblings, even if they would never truly be that to me. Klaus was the first person to talk to me, to ever make me feel like part of the group. Then came Ben because well he always came with Klaus. Then slowly everyone else. I'd call some of them my friends.

But dinner at the academy was one of those times when I felt most anxious. It wasn’t the fact that we were having “family meals” something that I never had growing up with a drunk and a scared woman. It was the fact that I had to be near Reginald, and everyone else without being allowed to leave.

He had made sure to catch up on the twelve years of training I missed, and it made my life a living hell. I missed the fun of childhood because of training, lessons with him and missions and I'd always ache from the torments of the day.

Meals were supposed to be a time to relax and chat with family but he once again made sure to take the fun out of that too.

I was upstairs when I heard the record player start, meaning that dinner was happening soon. Grace always turned it on at the same time. The record I've heard time and time again has been engraved in my mind. By seventeen I could repeat the whole thing by memory alone.

“During extreme weather conditions, a climber must possess the wisdom to determine when evacuation is inevitable.”

Grace rang a small bell which was the sign for us to rush downstairs. We ran down the main staircase single file as always and flooded into the dining room where dinner was waiting.

“A controlled alpine descent begins with the girding of one’s loins and the anchoring of the climbing rope to one's enemy, the mountain.”

Instead of sitting down and eating we were forced to stand behind our chairs and wait for the guest of honor to make his way down to the table. No matter how hungry we were.

The wood table had 10 chairs and a plethora of food on each plate. I still don’t understand the seating arrangements since it wasn't in number order. It was me, Luther, Diego and Five on the left. Alison, Klaus and Ben are on the right. Vanya in the middle stared directly at where Reginald would be sitting if he graced us with his presence.

I gotta hand it to her, looking into his eyes while eating seemed very scary. I should also know because I was the closest to him since he left a chair between him and Alison on the other side.

We waited there for him behind our chairs, as I distracted myself from the gross food on my plate. I was a very picky eater at the time, but there was no second option made for me. I remember Reginald telling me once, eat it or don’t eat at all. I took the second option.

Grace stood at the front of the archway waiting for the old man. After a minute he finally came down.

“The Dülfersitz rappel is the preferred method for descent when rope is the only available tool, but must be regarded as a last resort. Begin by looping the rope..”

He pushed out his seat and looked up at all of us and then Vanya at the other head of the table. “Sit” he commanded us.

We all graciously took our seats and everyone started to eat but me who poked at my food. I didn't like some of the slop made, but it wasn’t Grace's fault at all, I just missed my mom and the cultural foods she would make at home. But I doubt she missed me. I was given a look of concern by Luther, we weren't the closet but we did have our moments being Number One and Number Zero. I gave him a shake of the head which meant that I was fine not eating and continued to pick.

“A screen anchor must be used if the rope is to be successfully retrieved from the mountain. Tightly knot the ends of the rope. Once anchored, thread the double rope through the legs, front to back, and around the buttocks.”

But I wasn't the only person not eating. I looked up to see a few others doing more peculiar things than I was. Diego had one of his knives and was carving something into the table. And Klaus only at thirteen years old was rolling a blunt, to the side hoping nobody would notice. And Ben had a book in his right hand, reading away even though I'm sure that isn’t allowed.

I thought that this night was going to be like any other and suddenly I couldn’t wait to grow up. I didn't know it then but that wasn't true at all.

“It is of utmost importance that the rope be drawn under the gluteal muscles, not through the crevice between the gluteus.”

At first, I thought Five was staring at me but no he was staring hard at Reginald who didn't seem to notice. Just sipping his wine. Vanya looked at the thinking Five not sure what to make of his expression.

“Proceed by holding the rope diagonally-”

Five interrupts the background noise by sticking his knife directly into the wooden table. The children all look up from their plates at him, and so does Reginald.

“Number Five?” He bellows out.

“I have a question.” Five grit his teeth after taking the knife out.

“Knowledge is an admirable goal, but you know the rules. Not talking during mealtimes.” I noticed Grace standing behind him as he went on. “You are interrupting Herr Carlson.”

Five pushes his plate out of his way, it slams into the center of the table. I had no idea why he was so upset at the time and only knowing him for such as short time didn't help either.

“I want to time travel,” he says.

“No.”

“But I'm ready.” Five backs out of his chair. “I’ve been practicing my spatial jumps, just like you said.” He blinks next to Reginald on the other side of me to prove his point.

“See?”

Reginald puts down his fork, “A spatial jump is trivial when compared with the unknowns of time travel. One is like sliding along the ice, the other is akin to descending blindly into the depths of the freezing water and reappearing as an acorn.”

I could almost fall asleep at his words. He talked so monotone and slowly I don’t know why he wasn't talking instead of Herr Carlson.

“Well, I don’t get it.”

“Hence the reason why you’re not ready.” Everyone eats like they aren’t listening to this conversation except Vanya who shakes her head and mouths no at the almost twitching with anger Five. He looks at her and then back at him.

“I'm not afraid.”

“Fear isn’t the issue. The effects it might have on your body, even on your mind are far too unpredictable.” Reginald claims, going back to his food before dropping his utensils to give Five a look. “Now, I forbid you to talk about this anymore.”

As Reginald returns to eating again, Five storms out of the dining room pissed off. “Number Five! You haven’t been excused!”

We all looked worried, where was he going? By the looks of it not back to his room. And by the sound of the front door opening and shutting I knew where he was going.

“Come back here!” Reginald yelled.

The look on Vanya's face was heartbreaking. I could tell she wanted to go after him but was afraid of getting yelled at too. I on the other hand didn't know what reaction to have, he was nice to me, we shared a few conversations but seeing him leave didn't have the emotional weight to it as if I had been here all my life. But nobody knew that was the last time they were ever going to see Number Five ever again.

Well until now.

..

PRESENT DAY

“I survived on scraps. Canned foods, cockroaches, anything I could find.” Five tells us.

Vanya and I sit around him, trying to grasp the insane fact that the world is going to end. At times like this, I think of all the times people theorized the world ending at any time and then going out the next day confused but to have someone actually see it happen was a whole other thing. I didn't know what to do or how to prepare. Only having eight days to get my shit in order.

No one but us knew about this which made it even worse to think about..

“You know that rumor that Twinkies have an endless shelf life?” Five chuckles which I didn't think he could do. “Well, it's total bullshit.” Well, there goes my theory.

“I can’t even imagine,” says Vanya. One out of the two taking things more seriously.

“You do what it takes to survive, or you die. So we adapted. Whatever the world threw at us, we found a way to overcome it.”

“I'm sorry, who is this we that you keep bringing up?” I questioned. Just like Vanya was earlier, I was ignored by Five.

“You got anything stronger?” Five asked.

Vanya dumps out his coffee and pours in some whiskey instead. Five is handed the cup happily and takes a big gulp. We all stand up now near her kitchen, Vanya gives him an eye-opening look as I look at my feet still questioning the fact that we are all going to die even though I have a healing factor.

“You think I'm crazy.” He frowns.

Vanya stammers, “no it's just.. it's a lot to take in.”

“Exactly what don’t you understand?” Five whines.

“Well I wouldn't say I don't understand.” I put in, “It's just a crazy claim that all of us are dead in eight days, Five.”

But Vanya asks a question. “Why didn't you just time travel back?” Which I also wondered.

But Five scoffs at us. “Gee, wish I'd thought of that,” he says sarcastically to our statements. “Time travel is a crapshoot. I went into the ice and never acorn-ed.” He quoted what Reginald said years ago.

“You think I didn't try everything to get back to my family?” The sadness suddenly kicks in and I feel bad for the kid. Man..?

“If you grew old in the apocalypse, how come you're still a kid?” I tilt my head.

He scoffs again, strutting away from us to get more whiskey off the kitchen island. “I told you already. I must have gotten the equations wrong.”

Vanya goes on as he pours. “I mean, Dad always used to say that.. Time travel could mess up your mind. Well, maybe that's what is happening?”

Five slams down his glass. “This was a mistake, you're both too young..”

“No Five,” Vanya calls out

“Too naive to understand.” He walks to the door.

“Five just wait and listen to her.” I sighed.

But he listens and stops. He turns back to us, lips pursed into a scowl.

“I haven’t seen you in a long time, and I don't want to lose you again. That’s all.” She says. “You know it's getting late, I have lessons early, and I need to sleep and I'm sure you two need to too.”

She runs over to the couch and hands me a blanket and pillow. Uhm does she think I'm sharing with the teen?

“We’ll talk in the morning again. Okay? I promise. Night.” She begs us to stay as she gives us a shy smile and walks to her room.

“Goodnight Vanya.” I smile back before it leaves my face as I look back at the blanket and then Five. Her door opens and closes and I'm left alone with him.

Five moves to sit on the couch, and I do the same. “So what now?” I ask him.

He doesn’t answer, instead he opens a piece of cloth. Inside that cloth is a large brown fake eye. Like the ones used when you lose yours. I stare at the eye thinking I'm losing my mind. Everything today makes me feel like I'm losing it.

He sighs as I'm about to question him on why he has a creepy fake eye, all he does is look at the back of it where it reads who produced the eye. Meritech, it says, never heard of it.

I finally look at him in his hopefully real eyes. “What is that?”

He quietly gets up and opens the door to leave.

I blocked him. “There's no way you brought me here and are about to leave without answering any of my questions. And leaving me on my own at god knows where.”

He looks confused.

“That means I'm coming with you, of course.”

..

Five dragged me along to what I'm guessing was Meritch’s office building. A spacious place with lots of windows and workers walking around in lab coats. How he was going to get private info about this eye I do not know. But if I know Five, I know he’s at least going to try to bullshit his way through this.

Another lab coat worker walked over to the front desk which was in front of where we were standing and gave us a strange look. He shares the look with the front desk lady and then at us.

“Uh, can I help you?” He says.

Five walks up to him menacingly. “I need to know who this belongs to.” He holds up the eye for him to see.

“Where did you get that?”

“Why do you care.”

I cough, interrupting the two's standoff. “Hello yes, he found it on a playground. It must’ve just popped out!” I forced a chuckle. “My sweet brother here just wants to return it to its.. rightful owner!” I end my lie.

“Ohh.. what a thoughtful young man” the front desk lady adds on.

“Yeah. Look up the name for me, will ya?” Five snaps completely breaking apart my well-crafted lie about his sweet nature.

The man and woman look wary. “I'm sorry but patient records are strictly confidential. That means I can’t tell you-“

“Yeah, I know what it means.” Five grumbles

“But I'll tell you what I can do. I will take the eye off your hands and return it to the owner myself. I'm sure he or she will be very grateful so if I can just-“ the man reaches out for the eye in Five's hands.

“Yeah, you’re not touching this eye.”

“Aidan! You don't mean that, apologize.” I grit my teeth trying to signal to Five that he doesn’t wanna make these people mad or everything is for nothing.

“Now, you listen here, young man-“ I was about to tell that ugly man not to mess with my kid brother like that. But Five beat me to it when he grabbed onto the man's collar and yanked him towards himself.

I sigh knowing now we officially fucked this up, and dropped my happy act.

In his squeaky voice Five yells. “No! You listen to me, asshole. I've come a long way for this, through some shit your pea brain couldn’t even comprehend.” I almost giggle at his attempt to seem tough.

“So just give me the information I need, and I'll be on my merry way. And if you call me ‘young man’ one more time, I'm gonna put your head through that damn wall.” He finishes with a smile.

“Oh dear.” The front desk lady says.

The man still in Five’s grip looks over at the front desk woman.

“Call security” he whispers even though we could all hear what he was saying.

“Yeah,” she replies, picking up the old-looking telephone right next to her and dialing.

“We need to go now.” I grab onto Five's shoulder.

He gives that man one last dirty look and lets go of his coat. Sending the man back a few centimeters. The worker fixes his coat and exhales like he is trying to pretend he didn't just let this preteen threaten his life

Five and I walked out of the building defeated. And move on to our next idea, reinforcements.

…

Aug 14 update:

If you'd like to be added to the tag list for rest of the series (starts at chapter 10) say taglist in the comments!

[hamsterclaw]

Royal Pain

Crown Prince Hoseok has had his kingdom taken from him, and you're going to help him take it back, with a little help from your friends.

Pairing: Hoseok x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Fantasy AU, royalty AU, smut, angst

Word count: 7.6k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, magical themes, mentions of blood and killing, references to fire, Namjoon on a dragon

Hey there @xjoonchildx and @hobi-gif -- sorry about the blue balls!

Hoseok’s back muscles glisten with rivulets of water from the stream. Fully dressed, he looks lithe, slim. It’s only when he’s like this, naked that it becomes obvious that he’s dense with muscle.

The mark on his shoulder blade, high up, is pale in the bright sunlight. He’s had it since you were children. You’d always planned to ask your parents about it but then the invasion had happened.

Hoseok had been with you in your chamber when the treacherous Halians had stormed the palace, and it’s the only reason you’d both managed to get away without being killed.

No one would have thought of looking for the crown prince of Daranthia in the quarters of a servant family.

You were training to be a royal guard, but no one ever let you forget you were descended from peasants.

Now you’re both in Eosul, a coastal city far enough from Daranthia that you both feel safe, but close enough that you can keep abreast of the turmoil the invasion threw your city into.

Hoseok turns to face you, and you know he’s only done it to show you more of his beautiful body.

Your eyes travel from his shoulders, down his torso, to the hint of darkness just below the water level of the stream.

‘Done preening, my prince?’ you ask, voice heavy with sarcasm.

You and Hoseok played together as children. There were other children living within the palace gates, but none as close in age as the two of you.

The Queen had doted on you like you were her own daughter.

‘Why don’t you join me?’ he asks, smile inviting as he gestures. ‘The water’s perfect.’

You enjoy Hoseok’s easy flirtatious charm. You’ve seen him use it to great effect on the ladies and men in the royal court, and he’s flustered many a servant girl with his beautiful manners and equally dazzling smile.

Perhaps the servants’ quarters were not such an unexpected place to find the crown prince of Daranthia.

The Halian army’s lack of intelligent strategy was your and Hoseok’s gain. You’ll never be caught off-guard again.

You keep your thin chemise on as you enter the stream, and modestly turn your back on Hoseok, which is why you miss the way his eyes linger on the curve of your ass and the line of your straight spine.

You’re nearly done washing when Hoseok asks, ‘Did you ever find out about the mark?’

The reason why you’re so curious about Hoseok’s mark is that you have an almost identical one on your own shoulderblade.

‘Maybe they did it so you couldn’t be swapped with another baby,’ you speculate. ‘All babies look the same, after all.’

Hoseok snorts. ‘I was a very regal baby.’

You laugh and climb out of the water. ‘You’re regal now, my prince,’ you say, teasing. Hoseok’s still wearing the plain garments he wore when he came to see you that day. You’d planned on going hiking in the mountains, just the two of you.

Hoseok doesn’t answer immediately, and you realise he’s looking at your front. The wet chemise hides nothing.

You give him a look to show you’ve noticed his lapse in decorum, and turn pointedly to gather your clothes from the grass.

‘It’s as beautiful a view from the back,’ Hoseok remarks, and he sounds so much closer than before you take a big step forward and look back warily.

Hoseok’s on the bank of the stream with you, but he’s already turned away to get dressed himself.

You don’t want him to have the last word.

‘Same to you, my prince,’ you call.

Without turning around, Hoseok says, ‘If I thought you meant that, I’d take my comfort from you right now.’

You finish getting dressed in silence.

***

You were born with elemental power but you’re by no means good at magic. You can spark a fire if the kindling’s dry enough and there’s no humidity in the air.

As far as you know, Hoseok has no magical abilities.

Both of you combined can’t hold a candle to the man you’re watching juggle fireballs without using his hands.

Hoseok rolls his eyes at you. ‘Come on, we have a lot of things to do. We need food, and lodgings, and a means to make money.’

‘Very practical of you, my prince,’ you say, approvingly.

‘Stop calling me your prince. We’re incognito,’ Hoseok complains. There’s a spark of something in his eyes. ‘Unless we’re in bed, then you can worship this royal ass all you like.’

‘You certainly are a royal ass,’ you agree, ducking the arm he tries to put around your shoulders.

Hoseok turns to go, and a fireball zips past his head, singeing the edges of his hair.

You step in front of him and turn to face your attacker.

The man who’d been juggling fireballs is approaching you quickly.

‘I’m sorry!’ he says, raising his hands up as you square up to him.

This close, he looks more a boy than a man, wide-eyed and worried.

Hoseok nudges you out of the way, and you step aside reluctantly. You haven’t finished your royal guard training, but it’s always been your instinct to protect Hoseok.

He is the prince, after all, and he’s shit at protecting himself.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says again. ‘I got distracted and my fireball went wild.’

‘It’s fine,’ Hoseok says, magnanimous. ‘We’re new to the city, do you live here?’

‘My whole life,’ the man-boy says, beaming at you.

You can’t help melting at sweetness of his smile. ‘I’m Y/N,’ you say.

‘Jungkook,’ he replies. You smile at each other.

Hoseok clears his throat. ‘I’m Hoseok, if anyone was interested,’ he says, dryly.

You roll your eyes. ‘Sorry, he’s had a tough week,’ you say to Jungkook.

Hoseok snorts. ‘We need help. Can you show us around the city, Jungkook?’

***

Your new friend Jungkook knows the city like the back of his hand, eats like it’s his last meal, every time, and is able to control fire almost effortlessly. You’re both in awe of how powerful he is, and flummoxed by how ridiculous he is otherwise.

Hoseok and you are watching Jungkook form fireballs as you train, using sticks Hoseok’s carved from waste timber. You hadn’t realised he was so skilled.

Hoseok’s thrust hits you right in the middle of the chest as you lunge towards him and slip in the mud.

Thankfully the point of his stick isn’t enough to impale you. Neither of you have healing powers.

Jungkook comes running, fireballs extinguished. ‘Are you ok, Y/N? he asks, breathlessly.

He pulls the stick out of Hoseok’s loosened grip and tosses it away, like Hoseok would use it on either of you.

‘I’m fine, Jungkook, we’re just training.’

‘I want to learn to fight too,’ Jungkook says.

From the look on Jungkook’s face as he crouches next to you on the ground, Hoseok’s a little worried about his motivations.

Also, the kid’s obvious strength is mildly terrifying.

‘I’ll train you,’ you say to Jungkook, smiling sweetly at Hoseok.

‘You’re a good fighter aren’t you, Y/N, you swore an oath to protect your people,’ Hoseok reminds you. ‘All your people.’

Jungkook and you spend the rest of the afternoon training whilst Hoseok thinks about how he’s going to reclaim his kingdom and protect his people.

***

You stare at the barmaid who’s just escorted you and Hoseok to your rooms.

Except there’s only one room, not two, and there’s only one bed.

You say immediately, ‘I’ll sleep in the stables.’

‘We don’t have a stables,’ says the barmaid. ‘This is all we have.’

‘We’ll take it,’ Hoseok says smoothly, paying her.

‘I’ll take the floor,’ you say, begrudging.

‘You can have the bed,’ Hoseok says.

‘You’re the prince, I can’t take the bed.’

‘Want to share it with me?’ asks Hoseok.

‘Can you keep your hands to yourself?’ you ask.

Hoseok raises a brow, as though he’s taken aback by your forwardness.

‘I’m a royal prince,’ he says, huffy. ‘Of course I have no impulse control.’

You groan. ‘I’ll sleep in the forest.’

Hoseok says, ‘Don’t be ridiculous. We can share the bed, of course.’

‘I have no desire to be -‘ you break off, trying to find the right phrase.

‘Mounted in your sleep?’ suggests Hoseok.

You stare at him in horror.

‘Ravaged like a siren?’

Your mouth opens, but no words come out.

‘Robbed of your virginal innocence?’

You glare at Hoseok.

‘Have you ever considered that we have matching marks on our backs because we might be blood relatives?’ you ask sweetly.

‘Like siblings?’

Hoseok’s face fills with profound and deep horror.

‘Don’t be disgusting,’ he snaps.

‘Why is that disgusting?’ you ask, voice dripping with honey. ‘Have you had thoughts about me, my prince?’

Hoseok’s getting paler by the second.

He’s muttering to himself. You can’t make out much of it apart from ‘but your ass,’ and something about ‘lush lips’.

You strip off, and to your satisfaction, Hoseok can’t even look your way.

You’re between the sheets and asleep long before he calms enough to go to bed.

***

You’re snuggled against a warm chest, a long leg thrown over your hips.

You turn your face right into Hoseok’s beautiful one.

His lashes make pretty fans on his cheeks, his heart shaped lips are slightly pursed. He looks adorable.

Then he opens his eyes.

‘Good morning, wench,’ he says, affection in his voice.

‘Wench? I was almost part of the royal guard,’ you protest.

He still hasn’t moved his leg off your hips.

‘You look beautiful,’ he tells you.

‘I could be your sister,’ you tell him.

‘I thought about this before I got into bed with you, whilst you were dreaming.’

He pauses, ‘What were you dreaming, by the way? You sounded delectable.’

Your face warms all over.

‘We can’t be blood related. We wouldn’t have been able to have our naming ceremonies if we were.’

He’s right. Each of you had had a naming ceremony with your mother, and they’d been within less than six months of each other.

Hoseok’s father had died within months of his birth, and your father was the most honest, upstanding person you’ve ever known.

The timings can’t possibly line up.

‘Thank Jaesu for that,’ Hoseok says. ‘Now I can go back to my fantasies about-‘

You cut him off.

‘I don’t wish to hear about your lurid fantasies,’ you say, as haughtily as you can.

Hoseok just smiles. ‘When you’re ready I can share them with you.’

He slips his leg off your hips, and your traitorous body mourns the loss of his warmth.

You try not to let it show on your face. 

Hoseok’s already half dressed, muscles im his back rippling as he slips on his loose linen shirt over his breeches.

You step out of bed and gather your clothes.

‘That lacy contraption makes your breasts look delectable,’ Hoseok remarks, ‘but it must be uncomfortable to sleep in.’

‘If you were a gentleman you wouldn’t be staring at my breasts whilst I’m asleep,’ you retort.

Hoseok’s soft boots pad on the wooden floor as he approaches you.

He lifts your hair out of your cloak with gentle hands, barely tugging.

‘Lucky for you, I’m not a gentleman,’ he says, and the smugness of his smirk is almost too much to bear as he reminds you, ‘I’m a royal prince.’

You groan and stomp out of the room.

***

To defeat the Halians, Hoseok has to raise an army. 

He’s never been a stickler for the right way of doing things, in fact, he’s always favoured a dirty shortcut if he can find one.

‘You want to what?’ you half-shout.

Hoseok winces, and Jungkook’s mouth opens slightly in what can only be described as a confused pout.

‘The dragon-riders of Eosul are our best bet for defeating the Halians, fast,’ Hoseok says, reasonably, he feels.

‘The dragon-riders can’t be trusted,’ you argue. ‘What if they turn on you?’

‘I have a plan,’ Hoseok says, reassuring.

There’s a beat, two, of silence.

‘I will come up with a plan,’ Hoseok amends. ‘It takes two days to get to the summit of Mount Halji. I’ll have a plan by then.’

You groan and put your head in your hands. Jungkook pats your back, trying to be reassuring. 

‘My fire power’s been getting more accurate lately,’ he tells you, smiling sweetly.

‘Accurate enough to defeat a dragon?’ you ask grimly. 

***

The hike up Mount Halji starts off easy enough. You’re taking a break even though you’re the only one who seems to need one.

Hoseok’s quiet today, you guess he’s still thinking of a plan.

You spark tiny fires to entertain Jungkook whilst you and Hoseok speak.

‘Do you really think the dragon-riders will help us?’ you ask, quizzical.

‘I used to train with one of them,’ Hoseok tells you.

‘Ah you didn’t say you had a dragon-rider friend!’ you say. This is looking hopeful.

‘We aren’t really friends,’ Hoseok says. There’s a scowl on his face. ‘He’s kind of annoying.’

‘How annoying can he be, if he helps you?’ you point out.

‘Namjoon’s just — annoying,’ Hoseok grumbles. ‘You’ll see when you meet him.’

You light another little fire to lure Jungkook back from the edge of the mountain path.

‘Your frenemy is our best option right now,’ you remind Hoseok.

‘I know,’ grumbles Hoseok. You realise he’s staring hard at your chest. You cross your arms.

‘Sorry,’ Hoseok says. ‘Just trying to see what undergarment you’re wearing today.’

You scowl at him. ‘I don’t ask you to drop your breeches to show me yours.’

‘I wish you would,’ sighs Hoseok, wistful. He smiles at you faintly, then calls to Jungkook to stop running and join you both to continue your journey.

***

The dragon-riders of Eosul live in a well-guarded enclave at the top of Mount Halji. 

You’re a little unsettled as you approach the forbidding-looking gates, and beside you, Jungkook’s fallen silent for the first time. 

Hoseok, with his lifetime of confidence as the Crown Prince of Daranthia, walks right up to the gates and calls, ‘Is this such a savage place that it doesn’t recognise royal blood when it sees it?’ 

You step next to him hurriedly. ‘It’s the Crown Prince of Daranthia, Jung Hoseok. Open the gates, please.’ 

Hoseok eyes you like you’re the crazy one. 

‘Do we need some fire?’ Jungkook asks, timid. 

Thankfully, the gates swing open. 

The group of men standing beyond the gates look just as forbidding as the gates themselves. 

The leader, a man so tall you have to look up to see him properly, steps forward. 

‘Crown Prince Hoseok,’ he says, inclining his head in the slightest of bows in greeting. 

The disrespect! You’ve never bowed to Hobi in your life but he is a royal prince after all. 

You’re already stepping forward, ready to tear him off a piece of your mind, when Hoseok says, ‘Commander Namjoon.’ 

Commander Namjoon’s eyes fall on you and Jungkook. You straighten up and try to look intimidating. Beside you, you can sense Jungkook doing the same. You hope he’s not smiling. 

The rudeness of these people rankles. 

Beside Namjoon, a shorter man with blond hair and a scar along his neck tilts his head. 

‘The Great Hall is ready for our guests, Commander.’ His voice is light, musical, with a silvery quality to it that makes you think of bells. 

He smiles at you. ‘My name is Jimin. I’m Namjoon’s second in command.’ 

His smile is so pretty you find yourself smiling back. ‘I’m Y/N, and this is Jungkook.’ 

‘Allow us to lead you to the Hall,’ Namjoon says, his deep voice resonating through the emptiness of the entry compound. 

As you follow the group, you look around you, awed despite yourself at the scale of the dragon-riders’ enclave. This high up, there’s nothing but mountains to see, a cool mist blanketing the more distant peaks. 

The air’s fresh and sweet. 

There’s a distant reverberation, a rumble, and you look at Hoseok, worried. 

‘The dragons,’ Namjoon says, and you realise he’s been looking at you. ‘There’s a patrol around the periphery every hour.’ 

‘Who’d want to fuck with a bunch of dragons?’ Hoseok mutters. 

‘You’d be surprised,’ Namjoon says. He smiles at you, and you’re surprised by the appearance of dimples in his cheeks. 

He’s still as tall, broad and forbidding looking as he was, but the dimples make him look almost attractive. 

He moves past Hobi to stand next to you. ‘How did you get saddled with the job of protecting a liability like Hoseok?’ he asks. 

His question startles a laugh out of you. ‘He’s my oldest friend,’ you say, loyal. 

You’ve reached the entrance of the Great Hall, and Namjoon offers you his arm to climb up the stone steps. 

You take it, and he presses your hand into his side as he leads you up to the entrance. 

You wait for him to let you go, but he seems content to hold your hand tucked into the crook of his admittedly strong arm as he guides you into your seat at the huge, round wooden table. 

He looks at you as you thank him, and the intensity of his hooded gaze makes you feel warm. 

Hoseok slides into the seat next to yours. ‘I told you he was annoying,’ he says to you in a too-loud stage-whisper. 

You don’t think Commander Namjoon is annoying at all. 

‘His arms are bigger than Jungkook’s,’ you say, stupidly. 

Jungkook, next to you, lets out a petulant half-whine, half-growl.

‘But I’m sure you’re much better at fire,’ you say, reassuringly. 

Hoseok mutters something disgruntled as he turns back to the table. 

Namjoon looks piercingly at Hoseok. ‘What do we get in return for helping you?’ 

Hoseok holds his own. You rarely ever see him serious, but as he faces off against the serious dragon-rider leader, you see shades of the king he was about to become before your kingdom was invaded. 

‘How about freedom?’ Hoseok says, so casual you almost miss the meaning of what he says. 

Jimin glances at Namjoon. 

‘I was most of the way through drafting an agreement with the Emperor of Eosul recognising Mount Halji as an independent state,’ Hoseok says. His voice is still light, but his eyes are intent on Namjoon’s. 

‘Help me reclaim Daranthia, and I’ll make Mount Halji an independent state as my first ruling on the throne.’ 

A muscle ticks in Namjoon’s jaw. 

‘The Halian army is huge in numbers, and they have unlimited gunpowder from the caves of Ijil,’ Jimin points out. ‘Defeating them won’t be as easy as summoning our dragons.’ 

‘I also plan to invoke the Flames of Daranthia,’ Hoseok says.

Your eyes snap to his. 

The Flames of Daranthia are a legend every Daranthian child hears about growing up, a mythology passed down to every descendant. 

The Flames haven’t been invoked in your lifetime, or in your parents’ lifetimes either. 

The legend goes that all full-blooded Daranthians are descended from the fire gods, and that the true royal family of Daranthia are blessed with the power to invoke the flames and lay waste to any enemies of the kingdom. You know Hoseok’s been taught the incantation, it was part of his training as Crown Prince, but you’ve never seen him so much as light fire to a candle without a match. 

Beside you, Jungkook looks confused. 

For the first time, you find yourself as confused as Jungkook. 

***

Hoseok’s stripping out of his clothes, getting ready for dinner. 

You turn your back on him to afford him privacy even though he’s insisted you can watch him. 

‘Can you invoke the Flames, Hoseok?’ you ask quietly. 

He sighs. ‘I know how. It’s never worked for me before,’ he says, and for the first time, you can hear bitterness in his voice. 

You turn, wanting to see his face. 

He’s shirtless still, breeches low on his hips. 

His body is beautiful. He’s beautiful. 

He looks at you, and his pretty mouth twists in a smile. 

‘Why do you always look at me like that?’ he asks. 

‘Like what?’ you ask. 

‘Like you’re enjoying what you see,’ he says. 

You laugh and turn away. 

‘Don’t worry about looking away,’ he says, and there’s a rasp now to his voice that wasn’t there a moment ago. ‘I like it.’ 

Your eyes fly to his, and he’s taken a step forward, closer to you. 

‘Do you need to get dressed too?’ he asks, voice low. 

You try hard to keep your voice steady as you reply. ‘I think there’s a dress in my chamber.’ 

‘Let’s go. I’ll give you a hand.’ 

‘I can get dressed on my own, Hoseok,’ you say, dryly. 

He’s already slipping a shirt over his shoulders, shrugging into it carelessly, letting it drape over his razor sharp collarbones. 

‘But I want to help you,’ he tells you. 

He follows you to your chamber, down the corridor from his. 

You look worriedly at the dress that’s been gifted to you. ‘I’ll just wear what I have on,’ you say. 

Hoseok smiles at you. ‘Come on. Live a little. Our kingdom might be a fiery wasteland tomorrow.’ 

You snort as you take the dress from him. ‘Pretty confident in your ability to invoke the Flames for someone who can’t even light a candle.’ 

Hoseok laughs, sounding like his usual self for the first time since you arrived on Mount Halji. 

You motion for him to turn around and slip the dress on. 

‘Ready.’ 

Hoseok turns, already holding his arm out for you to take. 

He stills as he looks at you. The look in his eyes makes you feel like you’re burning up from the inside. 

He laughs softly. ‘I can’t light a candle, but looks like I can make you burn up,’ he says, mocking. 

‘I’m getting changed back,’ you say. 

He takes your arm and slips your hand into the crook of his. 

‘You look beautiful,’ he says, with such sincerity your heart does a funny double beat. Then, ‘bloody Namjoon. If you’re going to be on anyone’s arm it’s mine.’ 

You mull over his words as you head to the banquet hall, wondering why they make you feel all fluttery and molten inside. 

***

The dragon-riders of Eosul fight like warriors, swear like sailors and apparently party like it’s their last night on Earth. 

You press a little closer to Jungkook as two large men come barrelling down the hall, narrowly missing you. 

‘What the fuck is in the mead?’ you ask. 

Jungkook hiccups. ‘No idea. But it’s potent.’ 

You look up at him and realise his eyes are glazed over. ‘Jaesu, Jungkook, how much have you had to drink already?’ 

‘Just —’ Jungkook tilts his head to one side, open-mouthed, counting out loud. 

You stop listening when he gets past five. 

‘Come on, I’m gonna get you some water.’ 

You’re half-carrying Jungkook to the water fountain when a warm arm slides around his waist from the other side, taking his weight off you. 

You look up to see Namjoon, still dressed in the black chain-mail of his armour. 

He smiles at you. ‘It looked like you needed a hand,’ he says, holding Jungkook up effortlessly. 

You smile gratefully at him. ‘I was just going to get him some water,’ you say. 

Jungkook’s smiling to himself, oblivious to you and Namjoon holding him up. He sings a raunchy ballad as you get him to his chamber. The sweetness of his voice somehow manages to temper the fact that he’s singing about fucking. 

Namjoon gets him into bed and you pull the covers over him. 

Jungkook falls asleep promptly, tucking his hands under his face like a child. 

Outside his chamber, you turn to Namjoon. ‘Thank you for helping me,’ you say. 

Namjoon tilts his head to one side. A dimple flashes in one cheek. 

His chain-mail clad arm rests on the wall beside your head, and he’s standing so close to you, sandwiching you between his broad frame and the wall, that you can feel how warm he is. 

The man radiates warmth, both from the sheer size of him, and the intense, fiery look in his eyes. 

‘You look very beautiful, blue suits you,’ he tells you. 

You can feel yourself melting under his gaze. 

A tremendous crash reverberates through the castle, shaking the walls. 

Namjoon swears. ‘It’s the dragons,’ he tells you. ‘When everyone gets merry like this, sometimes the dragons get worked up.’ 

You stare up at him, wide-eyed. 

‘You’ll be fine,’ he says. ‘Stay here where it’s safe.’ 

He’s already turning, running down the corridor, fast despite his size. 

You check in on Jungkook, who miraculously, is still asleep. 

Then you run after Namjoon. 

There’s no fucking way you’re missing a chance to see the dragons in action. 

***

You can’t believe you’re watching a dragon fight. 

You’re on one of the castle balconies, watching in awe as Jimin wrangles one of the magnificent beasts. His skin glows in the moonlight, and with his light hair, he looks ethereal. Well, he would look ethereal, if it weren’t for the fact he’s inexplicably shirtless, muscles rippling in his back as he leans forward over the neck of the dragon, graceful and deadly. 

Next to him, Namjoon, regrettably still dressed, has mounted a dragon with scales as black as his armour. They’re a striking, incredible pair, the size of his beast bigger than the rest of the creatures in the fray. 

A flame licks out metres from where you’re standing, and you step back quickly. 

Beside you, a throat clears. ‘May I?’ 

You’re nodding without clarifying, and an instant later, the man who’s asked permission mutters, ‘Force field.’ 

The air shimmers around you. 

‘It’s safer to watch from under a forcefield,’ he explains. 

‘Oh, thank you,’ you say, grateful. ‘I’m Y/N, from Daranthia.’ 

‘Min Yoongi,’ says the man. He looks at you, eyes sharp and penetrating.

You wonder what’s in the water on Mount Halji that makes all the men who live here able to fluster you with their gaze. 

‘That mark on your back,’ he says, casual. ‘It looks familiar.’

You’d forgotten that the gown gifted to you is backless, cut almost to the curve of your ass. 

You turn away from the dragons clashing in front of you and look at him curiously. ‘Have you seen it before?’

Min Yoongi isn’t in armour like the other men you’ve met so far, in fact, he’s dressed simply, in a velvet jacket and shirt.

He nods at your curious look. ‘I’m a sage from Ijil, across the gulf.’

You’ve never been to Ijil, but that’s not unusual. Ijil’s residents are descended from enchanters and wizards, the whole place teems with magic and wisdom. Or so you’ve heard. Ijil protects its borders by being difficult, almost impossible to find.

He hasn’t answered your question. 

‘What brings you to Eosul?’ you ask.

‘This and that,’ he says, vague. 

Seeing your incredulous look, he laughs. ‘I’m friends with Jimin.’

A flash of heat licks along the forcefield he’s conjured over the two of you, and Yoongi grimaces. ‘It’s getting hot. Should we go inside?’

You glance at the magnificent beasts flying above you. The conflict seems to be dying down. 

You follow Yoongi into the castle and run into Hoseok, panting like he’s run a marathon.

‘Where were you?’ he asks. He runs a hand over his face. ‘I —-‘ 

He doesn’t finish his sentence because Namjoon strides up to your group. He’s sweating, large chest heaving as he looks at you and asks, ‘are you all right?’

Yoongi stands apart from your little triangle and snickers.

You say, very firmly, ‘I’m fine. Yoongi conjured a forcefield to keep us safe. Good night, boys.’

You turn and walk down the corridor to your room. 

You feel eyes burning into your bare back as you go. You’re not sure who you want them to belong to.

***

Jungkook’s eaten his way through most of the breakfast spread by the time you’ve finished nursing your mug of arabica.

He offers you a tangerine he’s just peeled, proudly.

You accept and are rewarded with a boyish smile. 

‘Should we practice with our lances after this?’ he asks.

‘Sure,’ you agree. ‘Let me just check on Hoseok and I’ll meet you in the courtyard.’

You knock on Hoseok’s door and push it open when you hear his voice.

He’s on the floor by the bed, stretching. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his skin.

‘Just wanted to check you were ok,’ you say. ‘Jungkook and I are going to do lance practice in the courtyard.’

‘I’ll be down in a moment,’ Hoseok says.

His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and it’s so unlike him you stop. 

‘Are you ok, Hobi?’ you ask. 

‘What kind of prince would give up on his kingdom?’ he asks. 

He looks at you, his beautiful mouth twisting into something that’s more a grimace than a smile.

‘We’ll get Daranthia back,’ you tell him. You kneel in front of him so he’ll look at you. 

Quickly, you kiss his cheek, near his mouth. 

‘Don’t lose hope, Hobi.’

He’s still staring at your mouth. ‘Y/N,’ he says, husky.

You’re already up, heading for the door. 

***

You’re sparring with Jungkook, working up a sweat because although you’ve trained him, he’s taken to it like a duck to water.

Your lances clash, the wood vibrating under the force of your blows. 

As you whirl, you realise you’re no longer alone. 

Namjoon and Jimin are on the edge of the courtyard, watching. They’re out of armour, dressed simply like you and Jungkook.

Jungkook’s swing would have hit you on the head if you hadn’t leaned back at the last instant. As it is, it catches your hair, flipping it into your face.

You dive for his feet and he stumbles. You lunge the point of your lance against his chest, pinning him to the ground.

‘Can I spar with you?’ Namjoon asks. He’s much closer than before.

You can’t help it, the flirt in you snaps, ‘why? Do you wish to see me impaled on your stick, Commander?’

He laughs, voice so deep it’s like a rumble in his chest.

‘Plenty of time for that later, my lady.’

‘If anyone’s doing any impaling, it’ll be me,’ Hoseok says. He reaches for your lance. ‘Let’s go, Joon.’

You watch apprehensively as Hoseok and Namjoon circle each other, lances braced. 

‘Wow,’ comes Yoongi’s dry voice. ‘A clash of manhood.’

You laugh. ‘I believe the other name for lance is penis extension.’

‘Size never matters as much as attention to detail,’ Yoongi murmurs. 

His dark eyes flick to yours, and the heat in your face makes his lips curl in a smirk. 

‘You could at least pretend to be watching, princess,’ Yoongi says. ‘They’re fighting for your favour, you know.’

‘I’m not a princess,’ you say, rolling your eyes. 

‘Aren’t you?’ muses Yoongi. 

He jerks his chin to Hoseok and Namjoon, grappling like a kingdom’s at stake. 

Namjoon’s stronger, bolder in his strikes, whilst Hoseok’s quick on his feet, pressing any advantage he’s given. 

You’d say they’re evenly matched.

The lances clash up in the air, and you watch, worried, as the cross starts listing towards Hoseok.

There’s a sharp crack, a blinding flash, and the smell of burning fills the air.

Both lances are on fire. They fall to the ground.

Hoseok looks up. ‘Jungkook?’

‘It wasn’t me,’ Jungkook pipes up from the edge of the courtyard.

You glance at Yoongi, but he just nods to himself and walks off.

Namjoon glares at Hoseok. ‘Did you just invoke the Flames because you were losing?’

‘Firstly, I wasn’t losing,’ Hoseok replies, a picture of innocence. ‘But also, that wasn’t me.’

Namjoon looks unconvinced. 

‘We set off at mid-day,’ he says. He glances at you. ‘You can ride with me, if you wish.’

‘I can ride my own steed,’ you reply, ‘but thank you, Commander.’

You bow politely as Namjoon leaves.

***

You were silly to not take Commander Namjoon up on his offer to ride with him. 

The big man looks as magnificent on a horse as he does on a dragon. 

You’re starting to think he’d look good mounting anything. Including you. 

Jungkook and Jimin are riding ahead, playing a ridiculous but deadly serious game involving low-hanging branches and acrobatics that seem to require boundless amounts of core strength. 

Yoongi’s up ahead with Namjoon, reading a tome that looks like it smells of witchery and mustiness. He’s cleverly conjured a leather strap connecting his steed to Namjoon’s stallion. 

Hoseok pulls up beside you. 

‘Remember when we used to ride in the forests of Paitin,’ he asks. 

You smile at the memory. You’re not much of a rider, but Hoseok is. He used to drag you along with him, following the path of the Juran stream that runs through Paitin. 

The sunlight filtering through the canopy had always flattered Hoseok’s beautiful profile. 

You remember finding an abandoned cottage in the woods once. 

You’ll always remember the way Hoseok had held you that one time, the breathless kisses you’d shared. The way his golden skin felt under your hands. 

You glance at him, and he’s looking back at you, a smile on his face. 

There’s no mocking in it, not that you can see, anyway. 

You’re distracted by loud shouting from up ahead. 

‘Get the horses to shelter,’ Namjoon commands, doubling back to you and Hoseok. ‘It’s fire demons.’ 

God damn it. 

Fire demons are deeply irritating in so many ways, with their stony bodies and penchants for shooting firebolts. Horses are terrified of them. 

You’re already on the ground, taking the reins Hoseok’s slapped into your palm, curling them around your fist with your own. 

Namjoon tosses you his reins, and he and Hoseok take off to help Jimin and Jungkook. 

Namjoon’s huge stallion stamps its foot restlessly. You put your face against its nose, trying to calm it. 

Beside you, Yoongi’s murmuring what sounds like a calming incantation, his deep voice low and melodic. 

You lead the horses away from the fray to a clearing. 

Moments later, Jimin and Jungkook run into view, flanked by their horses. 

Namjoon’s right behind them. 

‘A forcefield would be good right about now,’ he bellows to Yoongi. 

Yoongi looks at him and raises a brow. ‘Say magic is better than muscles.’ 

You laugh despite yourself at Namjoon’s face. 

‘Muscles are better,’ mutters Jungkook. 

‘Where’s Hobi?’ you ask. 

‘Magic is better than muscles. Forcefield us, Yoongi, or I swear to Jaesu –’ 

Hoseok barrels into the clearing, a fire demon hot on his tail. A bolt flashes past his arm, and you grab him. 

‘Get back!’ Hoseok shouts. He tackles you to the ground. 

You land hard on your back, Hoseok’s body covering yours. 

‘Forcefield,’ Yoongi finally says, casual. 

The air shimmers above you, halting the firebolt that would have landed on Hoseok’s back. 

Hoseok buries his face in your neck. 

‘Am I dead?’ he asks.

‘Not yet,’ you reply. 

‘Really?’ he asks. He lifts his head to smile at you. ‘Because it feels pretty fucking heavenly being on top of you like this.’ 

You don’t want to encourage his bad pick-up lines but you do find him pretty fucking funny, you’re not gonna lie. 

***

You’re helping Hoseok tend to the wounds he got in the fire demon attack, in a small brook near the clearing. 

He’s trying to convince you that you could have been injured too when he tackled you, and that he needs to check your ass. 

You laugh when he makes a big fuss over a small graze near your elbow. 

He runs a finger over it gently.

The late afternoon sun makes the water in the brook look like it’s liquid fire. It’s how your insides feel when Hoseok’s touching you like this. 

‘Can I see your mark?’ he asks quietly. 

You turn and he tugs gently at the neck of your loose top. His lips on your mark make you shiver. 

‘I want you,’ he says, simply. 

You turn in his arms for the kiss you’ve been waiting for since you started on this journey. 

He’s the royal prince of Daranthia, but even if he were just Hobi he’d still be everything you ever wanted. 

***

There’s something about Hoseok’s height when he’s got you like this, pinned against a tree, that makes you feel weak at the knees. He’s solid, strong, just tall enough that you have to look up at him to meet his eyes. 

You press a kiss to the line of his collarbone, and he huffs out a breath against your cheek. 

‘What if someone walks in on us?’ you ask, breathlessly because his lips are tracing your cheekbone, heading south to your mouth. 

‘Then they’ll get to see the crown jewels,’ Hoseok says, straight-faced. 

You burst out laughing and shove at him. He doesn’t budge an inch. 

‘When did you get so strong?’ you murmur. 

‘I was always this strong,’ he replies. ‘I just let you protect me because it’s cute.’ 

You want to slap the smirk off his face, but damn it to hellfire, you want to kiss him more. 

Hoseok’s lips are firm, warm like you remember them, and the feel of them on yours makes your toes curl. 

‘Hobi,’ you murmur, and he rolls his hips against yours, knowing, ready to give you what you’re asking for. 

He slips a hand under the waistband of your cotton breeches, cupping you, fingertips pressing against you. 

‘I’ve been thinking about you, like this,’ he tells you, voice raspy against your ear. 

‘Against a tree?’ you ask, trying not to moan as his fingers explore. 

‘I’ll get Yoongi to magic up a bed right now if you want one,’ he says, and you know he would if you asked, shameless freak that he is. 

‘But honestly, any surface will do as long as you’ll let me fuck you into it,’ he continues. 

‘Romantic,’ you tease. Your hand slides down his front, over his flat stomach, over the bulge in his breeches. He hisses as you stroke him over the soft material. 

‘I’m gonna make a mess if you don’t stop,’ he tells you, hand covering yours, making you still. 

His thumb circles your clit slowly, purposefully, like he has all the time in the world despite the urgency you can hear in his voice. 

‘Do you want romance?’ he asks, quietly, against your ear. ‘I’d give up my kingdom for you, my love. I would take you right now and run, abandon my people and my responsibilities, if I could guarantee you the life you deserve.’ 

His voice, low in your ear, raspy with want, coupled with his skillful fingers, makes the moan you’ve been holding back spill from your lips. 

‘Do you want that?’ he asks, and there’s a note in his voice now that makes you look at him closely. 

‘I want you, Hobi,’ you say, honestly, and he groans then. 

‘Stop looking at me like that, my love. It makes me want to give you the world.’ 

‘Why don’t we start with your cock?’ you ask. 

Hoseok’s still laughing as he enters you. He stops talking then, and for a long time, the world’s reduced to his body against yours, the feeling of his cock filling you, the touch of his lips against your skin. 

He picks up the pace as you sigh into his ear, body taut like a bow. You marvel over his control, the strength vibrating through him as he takes his pleasure from you and gives you yours. 

Afterward, he lays you on the ground with him. 

‘Did you mean what you said?’ you ask. 

‘That your cunt makes me believe in miracles?’ Hoseok asks, idly tracing a finger over your bare shoulder. 

‘Did you say that?’ you ask, horrified. 

‘It does,’ Hoseok affirms. ‘But I suspect you’re asking about me giving up the kingdom for you.’ 

You meet his gaze. 

‘In a heartbeat,’ he tells you. 

There’s footsteps in the brush, you sit up quickly as Jimin comes into view. 

‘We’ve got to go. They’ve got Jungkook.’ 

***

‘They’ are the treacherous Halians, who’d kidnapped Jungkook whilst you and Hoseok had been cannoodling in the woods. 

Namjoon eyes you and Hoseok as you approach but doesn’t say anything. 

‘If we take the dragons and fly all night we can be at Daranthia by first light,’ Jimin says. 

‘And then we fight?’ 

‘Then we fight,’ Namjoon says, grimly. He glances at Hoseok. ‘You’d better be ready to invoke the Flames.’ 

‘Don’t worry,’ Hoseok replies, determined. ‘I’ll do my part. Let’s get Jungkook.’ 

Namjoon and Jimin exchange a look. 

‘The dragons are up on the ridge, waiting,’ Namjoon tells you. 

Yoongi looks the most animated you’ve ever seen him. ‘Let’s get the kid back.’ 

You raise an eyebrow at him. 

‘What?’ Yoongi asks, defensive. ‘He’s too muscle-bound for his own good, but he’s a nice kid.’ 

You, Yoongi and Jimin climb onto one dragon whilst Hoseok and Namjoon mount the other. 

Jimin looks over his shoulder at you and Yoongi. ‘Ever ridden a dragon before?’ 

***

It’s first light when you land on the cliffs overlooking Daranthia. The dawn is stunning, the blanket of night giving way to the pinks and purples of early morning. 

To the west lies the sea of Arahi, and to the east, the mountains of Eosul. 

Sandwiched in between is Daranthia, the most beautiful city this side of heaven. 

Namjoon, now dressed in full battle gear, imposing and terrifying in his all-black armour, looks at you and Hobi. 

‘I’ll lead the first wave,’ he says, calm. 

The stillness of the air around you is broken by the arrival of the army of dragon-riders. 

Dozens of dragons, each topped by a dragon-rider in battle gear, get into formation above your heads. 

The thundering of wings is enough to strike fear into your heart, even though you know they’re not here for you. 

For the first time, you feel a modicum of pity for the treacherous Halians. 

They haven’t got a chance. 

‘I’ll see you on the other side,’ Namjoon says. 

He mounts his beast, and raises his arm above his head. And then they’re off, swooping towards Daranthia. 

Jimin’s already on his dragon. He tosses you a wave as he flies off, tasked with finding Jungkook. 

‘It’s just us left,’ you say quietly. 

Hoseok nods. ‘Time to invoke the Flames.’ 

‘In case you haven’t figured it out yet,’ Yoongi says. 

You both turn to him. 

‘The mark on your shoulder blade. It’s the brand of the royal family of Daranthia.’ 

Hoseok furrows his brow, perplexed. 

Yoongi tilts his head at you, almost exasperated. 

‘Invoking the Flames of Daranthia is an inherited talent passed on to those of the true royal family,’ Yoongi says, rolling his eyes. ‘That’s you, princess.’ 

Your head is spinning. 

‘What? Hoseok’s the royal prince.’ 

‘Call him whatever you want in the bedroom, I don’t care. But there’s only one person here of royal blood, and it’s not him,’ Yoongi tells you, gently. 

‘What’s my mark?’ Hoseok asks. 

‘It’s the mark of the one who serves the royal princess,’ Yoongi says. ‘It’s ingenious really, swapping you at birth like that.’ 

Hoseok’s nodding, and you’re struggling to keep up. 

‘It wasn’t me who invoked the Flame when I was sparring with Namjoon,’ Hoseok says, awed. ‘It was you.’ 

‘As much as I’d like to give you time to process,’ Yoongi says, sounding like he’s thinking the exact opposite, ‘there’s a war that’s just begun, and you’ve got the power to stop it before too much blood is shed.’ 

‘Come on, princess. Let’s get the kingdom back,’ Hoseok says. 

He takes your hand, and you repeat the words of the incantation after him. 

Moments later, the Flames of Daranthia scorch a path across your kingdom, laying waste to the treacherous villains within it. 

And then, the world implodes in the inferno. 

***

You, Yoongi and Hoseok have made it to the Daranthian palace. 

Jimin’s the first to arrive, landing gracefully in the courtyard with his beautiful, sleek dragon and a sweaty but unharmed Jungkook. 

He runs for a hug, and you swipe your thumb over the soot on his cheek. ‘You ok, Jungkook?’ 

‘I’m good,’ he replies, trying to pull Yoongi into a hug with you. Yoongi ducks under his heavy arm with a muttered, ‘no thank you.’ 

Next to arrive is Namjoon, sweeping into the courtyard like he belongs here. There’s blood trickling down his sweaty brow, but it only adds to his overall appeal. 

Damn, his arms. 

Hoseok nudges you. ‘Close your mouth, princess.’ 

You check to see if he’s bothered by this, but he just smiles. 

‘Good job, Hoseok,’ Namjoon says. 

‘It was Y/N, actually. Turns out she’s the real princess of Daranthia.’ 

Namjoon absorbs this and turns to you. 

He drops to one knee in front you, all six feet of him, and bows his head. ‘My queen.’ 

Hoseok rolls his eyes and steps in between you. ‘So fucking annoying,’ he mutters. 

Hoseok turns to you. ‘Now that it turns out I’m not the actual royal prince, all I have to offer you is my pretty face, my beautiful body and my cheeky but irreverent charm. Will you still have me, my love?’ 

You look up at Hoseok, the man you’ve always loved. His eyes are steady on yours. 

‘Yeah you’ll do,’ you say. 

His smile is bright like the sun. 

©hamsterclaw 2022

[beatricebidelaire]

“The world is quiet here,” Sunny said, reciting the motto her siblings had found, and as her words echoed in the lobby, they heard a noise above them, a quiet shuffling from the enormous dome, scarcely audible over the sound of the croaking frogs. The shuffling grew louder, but the Baudelaires could not see anything in the blackness over their heads, which was as dark as a crow flying through a pitch black night. Finally, Violet lifted the frog-shaped lamp as far as its cord would allow, and all three children removed their sunglasses. Faintly, they could see a shadowy shape lowering itself from the machinery of the clock using what looked like a thick rope. It was an eerie sight, like a spider lowering itself to the center of a web, but the Baudelaires could not help but admire the skill with which it was done. With only a slight shuffle, the shape drew closer and closer, until at last the children could see it was a man, tall and skinny, with his legs and arms sticking out at odd angles, as if he were made of drinking straws instead of flesh and bone. The man was climbing down a rope he was unraveling at the same time, which is an activity I do not recommend unless you've had the proper training, and unfortunately the best trainer has been forced to go into hiding ever since a certain mountain headquarters was destroyed by arson, and he now earns his living doing spider imitations in a traveling show. Finally, the man was quite close to the ground, and with an elegant flourish he let go of the rope and landed silently on the floor. Then he strode toward the Baudelaires, pausing only to brush a speck of dust off the word MANAGER which was printed in fancy script over one of the pockets of his coat. “Good evening, Baudelaires,” the man said. “Forgive me for not revealing myself earlier, but I had to be sure that you were who I thought you were. It must have been very confusing to wander around this hotel without a catalog to help you.”

the way that dewey appears not at any point earlier when the kids were discussing how their afternoons went, but when sunny said the words "the world is quiet here" the words echoing through the lobby, and then he appears. this is killing me. "i had to be sure you were who i thought you were", he said. the way this is structured, the way this paragraph began, it kind of gave the vibes of "i had to be sure you, the baudelaires, are who i thought you are (volunteers, and not enemies), so i only appeared after the phrase the world is quiet here has been spoken" except that doesn't really make sense because kit obviously trusted the baudelaires and entrusted them the mission. so really "i had to be sure you were who i thought you were (the baudelaires), and i couldn't tell earlier bc you were disguised as concierges" still makes more sense. bc the kids were in disguise (even if one of them, the one dewey met, actually, was unusually short. tiny, even.) except he appeared not earlier, not later, but the moment "the world is quiet here" was spoken which is just, doing things to my mind.

on the other hand i do also think there are easy explanations for this, that is he didn't recognize sunny - or he did, but not 100%, and he wanted to be sure - earlier when he met the tiny concierge, he wasn't completely sure that these concierges were the baudelaires when they retired to lobby, but his certainty were gradually increasing, and eventually he was sure and decided that it would be safe to reveal himself. and he probably would eventually reveal himself anyway, just waiting for a proper time, and then sunny said the line "the world is quiet here" and since he was going to make a dramatic entrance of dropping himself down from the clock using a rope, obviously this is a perfect timing. suitable. the kind of lines that are spoken before one makes a dramatic entrance. if you're someone who makes entrances this way, it's a logical assumption to pick a timing this way.

a different explanation is that D couldn't be sure if he could trust the baudelaires - K did, but only because she's met them, saw them for herself, and came to the conclusion. but she didn't have time to tell him - having driven away to other important tasks to take care of. she thinks he'll be able to draw the same conclusion after his own observations, and when sunny uttered the line, it sealed it for him.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hey lovelies! So ya’ll remember that Blue Tears idea I had a while ago?

Welp, it’s done :)

Enjoy the angst! <33

...............

“Fly away, you’re free...”

“..Pidge..?” Confused at the command given to them, Blue’s Pidgeot stared at the shattered remains of their pokeball, before staring back at their master. 

He wasn’t even looking at them, but rather at the ground, messy brown bangs obscuring most of his face.

They didn’t fully understand what he meant by that.

After all they’ve been through together, this is what he does? Release them back into the wild...just like that?

Although Pidgeot wasn’t too familiar with this place, they recognized it as the entrance to Kanto’s tallest mountain. And this is where all of the extremely dangerous Pokémon and weather conditions resided.

That being said, why did he want them to leave? They didn’t see any of their friends’ pokeballs on him, so without them he’d be in grave peril.

Yet he didn’t seem to care as he sighed in irritation, annoyed that they were refusing to listen to him. “You’re free to live your own life again. I’m not your trainer anymore. Just go.”

The Bird Pokémon was extremely taken aback by his behavior, but then again...he hasn’t been the same ever since he lost his champion title--and other things he cared about, such as his Raticate.

Although they all knew it was an accident, Pidgeot thought that grief would make Blue even stronger. Even after losing to Red for the final time, they never stopped supporting him and vowed to train harder.

Maybe he finally reached his limit, unwilling to go on.

Yet when they shook their head in protest, he snapped. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be!! GO!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!” He yelled, kicking the pieces of the pokeball into the dirt, causing Pidgeot to flinch.

However during his fit, the bag accidentally slipped off his shoulder. As it tumbled to the ground they noticed something shiny and silver sticking out of the pouch:

Something sharp.

But they didn’t get a good chance to really see what it was as Blue scrambled to pick up his bag, sealing it shut with the item tucked back inside. He looked at his companion again, with exhaustion in his eyes. “...I’m sorry, I just...I need to face him alone. So please go and forget about me...goodbye.”

Those words devastated Pidgeot to the core, especially when he pleaded for them to “forget” about him.

How could they possibly do that?

What did he intend to do with that sharp shiny thing?

They had a bad feeling in their gut, and so they flapped their wings and flew off the mountain. Not out of obedience, but rather in a frantic pursuit to find the one person that could certainly help him and Red.

They can’t beg him to come back home.

But they knew exactly who could.

.........

“[Y/n], I don’t think it’s such a good idea for you to climb Mount Silver. The boys are probably fine-”

“Professor, I’ve looked all over town for them.” You huffed as you mounted your Rapidash outside of the Pokémon Lab, frowning down at Oak. “They’re my friends. I know Red likes going off on his own, but I know damn well Blue wouldn’t just disappear without telling me.”

At the mention of his grandson’s name, he fell quiet. It didn’t go unnoticed by you, which only made your blood boil even more.

You remembered fiercely defending Blue after Oak expressed great disappointment over his “failure” to keep his championship title for even a day before losing to Red. 

Heck, even the silent trainer felt guilty seeing his rival getting chewed out. He nearly forgot that he still needed to go inside the Hall of Fame.

It made you wonder if that contributed to his desire to go into exile.

“Does he only matter to you when he’s training Pokémon or researching alongside you?”

“Wha..o-of course not!” The professor protested, frowning at your accusations. “He matters to me more than you know. I just..thought my words would give him the push to do better. Maybe I could have worded them differently, but-”

“You knew he was struggling with losing his Raticate. I would’ve thrown in the towel if any of my Pokémon died like that, but Blue didn’t because he’s not a quitter. But when he needed your support the most...you just told him his best wasn’t enough. Imagine how he feels right now...”

Shaking your head, you scratched Rapidash’s ears gently. She could understand your frustration as she snorted in agreement.

Oak knew there was some truth to your words. At the time, he didn’t even think about the fact that Blue cared so much for his Pokémon..not treating them like tools as he previously assumed.

But as he was about to give you another poor excuse for his harsh words, both of you heard a familiar bird cry and looked up, seeing a Pidgeot land in front of you.

At first you were confused, wondering why this one decided to randomly show up and greet you specifically.

Then...it clicked in your mind.

“Oh! You’re..Blue’s Pidgeot, right?”

“Pidge! Geot!!” They nodded frantically, using a wing to gesture up to Mt. Silver.

While you weren’t well-versed in Poke language, you knew that if they were here all alone...then Blue must’ve gotten trapped up there in the mountains.

What if Red was, too?

“Okay, okay..I’ll follow you up there.” You glanced back at Oak apologetically. “Sorry, chief. I hate going against your advice, but my friends are stuck up there. I have to go help them. My Pokémon are strong enough.”

“Alright, but do be careful.” He nodded in understanding, now looking gravely worried. “The weather up there can be unpredictable, too. Make sure you don’t get stuck up there yourself.”

“I promise I’ll get us all back home. Now let’s go, girl!" You shouted to Rapidash, who neighed and galloped after Blue’s Pidgeot, heading towards the nearest slope that will lead you up Mt. Silver the quickest.

This was officially a race against time. You had no idea if those two got cornered by extremely aggressive Pokémon or were simply lost in one of the caves...all you could do was pray that you weren’t too late.

Eventually, the three of you arrived at the cavern’s entrance, with Rapidash’s flames keeping you and Pidgeot warm as you went inside. ‘Thank Arceus I bundled up for this trip beforehand...’

You tried to be as quiet as possible so you didn’t provoke any of the wild Pokémon that might be clinging to the walls or hiding underground.

Honestly, you didn’t know where this path would lead to. But considering the footprints on the ground were still somewhat fresh, you knew one of the boys couldn’t have gone too far.

‘The only question now is how far could he have-’

“THIS IS FOR EVERYTHING!!!”

The sudden loud scream of anger startled you, especially when you recognized Blue’s voice. In panic and confusion, you bolted further into the cave, winding up in a chamber where...

You stumbled upon a rather horrifying scene:

Blue furiously attacking Red. Though not with any Pokémon moves..

But a gleaming bloodstained knife. 

The silent trainer tried in vain to defend himself, but his arms got slashed up as blood dripped onto the ground beneath him. And eventually he was shoved down, a pained grunt leaving him.

You couldn’t believe this is where Red’s been after all this time. You would’ve been overjoyed to see him....under completely different circumstances.

His rival stood over him, purple sweater splattered in red as he looked down at him, grinning like a manic. Red’s eyes filled with tears, trying to shuffle towards his bag where his Pokémon were safely nestled inside. He couldn’t let any of them get into danger...even if they were powerful enough to overwhelm Blue.

“..p-please..don’t hurt them...” He managed to rasp, voice quivering in terror.

“...oh, so now you can talk, huh?! And that’s all you gotta say?!” Tilting his head, Blue’s smile only grew as he laughed hysterically. “You think you could just hide away up here?!! YOU THINK YOU COULD JUST WALK AWAY LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED?!!” He screamed. "You took everything from me, “Champion”..so now I’m gonna-”

“BLUE!!!”

Shocked by your unexpected arrival, he spun around with wide eyes to see you jumping off Rapidash. Then he noticed his Pidgeot by your side, scowling deeply at the bird for ratting him out like this. “P-Pidgeot..you brought them here?”

“Of course they did. I thought you guys were hurt, but...but this is insane. What do you think you’re doing?!”

Obviously, you were mortified that he planned to outright kill Red in some sickening act of “revenge”, but you remembered that you had to remain calm lest he did anything rash...to either you, Red, or himself.

After recalling Rapidash for her own safety, you took a few steps forward, trying to get to Red. And you immediately stopped as Blue held the blade against his own neck. Tears fully streamed down his face now, teeth gritted to bite back the sobs that wanted to escape.

“Hey, hey, hey...it’s okay, Blue.” You put your hands up, showing him you mean no harm. “You’re gonna be okay. Just please put the knife down. I know you’re in pain, but this isn’t going to make things better-”

“I-I didn’t want you to come here, [y/n]..” He sniffled. “You couldn’t just stay away. Now I have to kill you, too!!” Another hysterical laugh left his lips. “How funny...w-we grew up together, and now we’re all gonna die together and nobody will know where we are!!!”

“That’s not true.” You tried to reassure him. “Nobody has to die. We can all go home together. We can find another way to resolve this..to help you through your grief. I know you think Red deserves this...” For a brief moment, your gaze went to the other trainer’s. He was struggling to cover his wounds, barely breathing. “..but he doesn’t. He never meant to-”

“Why...Why are you defending this coward?! After all he did..h-he just runs away and thinks I’d just forgive and forget?!!”

“..n-no, Blue..”

Tensing, the brunette glanced back at Red, scowling. “Shut up, coward.” Then he looked to you again. “Tell me, [y/n]..who would you rather leave this mountain with? Me or him?”

His question had you in disbelief. How could you possibly choose?

You shook your head. “You know I can’t pick-”

“LIAR!! I KNOW IT WOULD BE HIM!! BECAUSE IT’S ALWAYS HIM!!” He snapped angrily, pointing his weapon at you as that maniacal grin from before displayed itself for you to see. “If you wanna “help me” so badly...then let’s make this quick.”

“Wha-!!”

All of the sudden, Blue yelled as he charged at you, swinging the knife--only for the blade to miss you by mere inches. Pidgeot panicked and used Gust to push him away from you, flapping their wings quickly so that you had time to get to the wounded Red.

“[Y/n]...please run..” He pleaded as you kneeled beside him. But you ignored him, instead calling out Chansey. At first she was stunned upon seeing the extent of his injuries, though at your request she began using Heal Pulse to aid him.

She needed to be absolutely focused on this task, so when you heard the wind stop, you got up to shield the pair from Blue. He was just staring you down furiously.

The murderous glint in his eyes barely made him seem human anymore..it was both tragic and horrific to see him reduced to this...to resort to killing over an accident, plus other things that his rival couldn’t have possibly expected to push him to this point.

It was like some supernatural force had taken ahold of his grief, driving it to the extreme.

Yet you firmly stood your ground. “So what now? You’re just gonna kill my Chansey, too? After all she’s done to heal you and your Pokémon?! Don’t you remember when she tried saving your Raticate?”

“”Trying” isn’t the same as actually saving, idiot!!” He snarled. “If you had any brains left, you know I can’t leave witnesses-”

However, he was interrupted as a pokeball attached to your belt suddenly popped open on its own, sending out..

Your Shiny Raticate.

“Grrrrrat!!!” They bared their fangs, glaring at the crazed trainer who dared to harm you.

Blue stared at them for a moment, and the back to you--who was just as surprised that they emerged without you calling for them. And he smiled, laughing quietly. “Y-Yours evolved?”

“I meant to tell you..but after what happened, it didn’t seem like the best time.” You told him apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

“...well..it doesn’t matter anymore.” He flicked the blade towards them. “They’ll be seeing my Raticate very soon!”

And with that, he charged blindly at your Pokémon, wanting to just land a single hit on them.

“Rat, dodge and use a light Quick Attack!!” You ordered.

The Shiny Raticate nodded and evaded the knife’s swipe, using that move you commanded to leave a scratch mark on his face. As Blue shouted in pain, he dropped the knife, blood trickling down his cheek. Once they grabbed the knife’s handle in their mouth, they carefully rushed back to your side, leaving it at your feet.

“Good job!” Smiling, you kneeled down to hug them, before pushing the knife behind you so Blue couldn’t get to it.

Speaking of whom, you looked up to see him collapse to his knees, his breathing shaky. With a trembling hand, he grabbed a nearby rock and clumsily threw it at the Shiny Raticate in a poor attempt to hurt them. But they huffed and climbed onto your shoulder, as you gazed at him in sadness.

“Blue, that’s enough. You’ve lost.”

“...th-that’s the problem, I always lose,” he began to sob, the crushing weight of his actions beginning to push down on him. “It’s not fair! Why do you get to be with your Pokemon..a-and I can’t?"

Through his tears, he sniffled as he noticed Chansey helping Red sit up, most of his wounds reduced to small scratches. “You think I-I wanted to hurt either of you?!! I just...I just wanted my life back...but I have nothing now. Not even that stupid knife...” Then he buried his face into his hands. “I-I can’t keep living like this!”

Your heart ached to hear his muffled sobbing, but it seems that bringing out your Shiny Raticate finally got through to him. 

Maybe it’s because his and yours were best buddies as Rattatas. Back then, you didn’t know why yours had such a strange “mutation”, but just like Blue..you loved your companion unconditionally.

For a moment you looked at each other, before going over to comfort him. You kneeled down and hugged him, feeling him cling to you and cry like a little kid. The Shiny Raticate nuzzled the side of his head, frowning as they also understood his grief.

“I-I’m so sorry...”

“It’s alright.” You reassured him softly. “Let’s just go home, okay? Before we all freeze to death up here.”

Nodding, he quieted down as you let him go, helping him stand up. Red managed to get up with Chansey’s assistance, and you smiled at the pair. ‘Thank Arceus I got here just in time.’

You called out the rest of your Pokémon to help make the long journey back home and to the hospital. The three of you vowed to tell them that you just got attacked by wild Pokemon...nobody had to know what really happened up on Mt. Silver.

And as for Blue’s knife..it remained in the chamber, buried deep within the snow.

Never to be found again.

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

Maze runner chapter twenty one Death Cure.

Previous chapter

Masterlist

Newt lay in his hiding place, the sun hot above him as he waits for the signal. It had been six months of waiting, of looking and planning. Six months of living without you by his side. It had taken four days before fatigue finally took him over and allowed Newt to sleep. Not even Mai Mai pressing herself against could stop the nightmares. Every night Newt would dream of you, of losing you, of living without you. He didn't know how much longer he could do it. Newt needed you now more than ever.

His biggest regret was the doubt he had felt, even just briefly it had been there. When he had learnt of Ava's breeding experiment he had wondered if it was all fake. If he never truly felt love for you. Had his feelings for you been manufactured by some evil doctor? Yet as he lay in tears again on the fifth night, Mai Mai pressing against him, Newt had known that the heartache he was feeling was real.

The sound of the train coming breaks his thoughts and Newt peaks over the mountain top.

The train came apart and rolled to a stop. That was his signal, Newt leapt up and ran over to the metal vehicle. Using a very large blow torch he melted the hinges and locks that held the carriage to the base of the train. His heart beat uncontrollably in his chest as he worked. Soldiers closing in.

Finishing it, Newt climbs the ladder to the top, Thomas following him. A burg that Jorge, Brenda and the others had just stolen hovered above them releasing cables down which the boys attached to the carriage. When Vince grabbed the ladder Jorge lifted the carriage and they flew away, leaving the W.C.K.D soldiers behind.

Newt held his breath as Vince used the blowtorch to break through the locked door. It fell down with a thud. Thomas and Newt stepped in, their breaths were taken away by the sight of so many teens chained to the train. A few seats in they see Aris and Sonya, Thomas stops to speak with them as Newt passes him.

“Newt?” Your voice was like a song to him, calling to his heart. He hardly wanted to believe it when he saw your face. Your hands were pulled high above your head lifting you off the ground at the very back of the train car. He rushed up to you.

“Y/n, thank god.” He pressed his lips to yours, but you were weak to weak to really kiss him back. Vince came.pver to you and started cutting you down.

“Newt! He's not here.” Thomas said.

“What?” Newt looked around at the frightened faces looking back at him. None of them Minho.

Having cut you down Vince holds you against his side.

“Newt, here you go.” He says, helping you over to him. Newt grabs you and leads you out of the train. Frypan spots you and comes.running over.

“Hey, y/n.”

“Hi Fry,” you say with a dry throat and reach out for him. He takes your hand and helps to support your weight into the medical building, where they lay you on a cot. Aris and Sonya follow you in.

Newt grabs you some water and helps.you to drink it.

“Where's Mai Mai?” You ask.

“She's working, helping out with the other kids, she'll come up soon.” Frypan assures you. Across the room Thomas steps in, coming to your side.

“Hey,” he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Here, drink this.” Harriet passed Aris and Sonya mugs of warm tea.

“Took you guys long enough to rescue us” Aris laughed.

“It's good to see you, too, bud. So what happened?” Thomas asked, pointing to the bruise on Aris’s left eye.

“I fought back. Tried to, anyway.” Aris said.

“You're lucky you found us at all. They had us

on the move a lot. It felt like something big was happening.” Sonya explained.

“Any idea where they were heading?” Newt asked, he had perched beside you on the cot.

“All I know is they kept talking about a city.” Aris said.

“I didn't think there were any cities left.” Harriet shook her head.

“That's because there aren't. Not still standing, anyway.” Brenda pitched in. She stepped across to you, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Okay, wait. What about Minho? Why wasn't he on the train?” Thomas asked.

“I'm sorry Thomas, he was.” Aris admits.

You push yourself to sit up, drawing everyone's attention.

“They wouldn't let us be close.” You say. Sonya laughed.

“They're what kept the rest of us going. Tried to escape anytime they put the two of them in the same room.” She giggled, “It was brilliant.”

“What did they do to you?” Newt asked. He was supporting most of your weight.

“They kept taking blood, they couldn't make it work. So they just kept taking more.” It was hard to speak through your exhaustion.

Aris lifted his arm, showing needle track marks.

“They tried giving it to us. Y/n’s blood to see if it would mix with ours.”

“Did it?” Thomas asked sceptically.

Sonya shook her head.

“There's something else. When I was with Teresa, she kept leaving me alone and I was able to look at her notes. Almost everyone in the maze was related to someone else, but they didn't keep them in the same groups. Frypan, I'm sorry but your brother…” you trail off but he just nods at you.

“Thank you.” He says quietly.

You look between Newt and Sonya, only now seeing the similarities in their eyes, their hair and their smiles.

“Newt, Sonya is your sister.” You push the words out before lying back on the bed. Newt turns to the girl beside Aris. She breathes out a heavy breath. Without speaking the two stand and cross the room, grabbing each other in an embrace.

“Hi brother.” She says to him.

After a little while the others head out for food leaving you and Newt alone.

“I'm sorry, we didn't get to you sooner.” He says to you, stroking back your hair.

“Sorry I couldn't escape.” You laugh back to him. Newt bent down and kissed you once more before a doctor came over to check on your wounds.

Next chapter

@fandomfan-102 @deanstolemydragon @afalls14universe @akilaporu001 @green-which

[tarnishedxknight]

hc + 🧡 for a friendship-themed headcanon

hc + 🎵 for a music-themed headcanon

[ for everyone! ]

{out of dalmasca} Woohoo! Let's get started! =) Below the cut for length.

hc + 🧡 for a friendship-themed headcanon

Basch: He makes friends very easily. Wherever he goes, Basch is friendly and helpful, which causes him to make a lot of friends everywhere. His conviction and destroyed reputation aside, he was very beloved in Dalmasca. And before that, in Landis, he had many friends as a child. He may be a quiet person, but Basch does like to be surrounded by people, especially friends.

Ashe: She had no children her own age to make friends or play with growing up. She had a few of her brothers, but most were much older than her, and then she lost them all to war and plague. Because of this, she grew up a very lonely child who considered Basch to be her dearest friend.

Noah: In contrast to his brother, Noah does not make friends easily and has very few of them. In Archadia, he really had no one he would have genuinely called a friend except for Drace, who quickly came to mean far more than just a friend to him. He doesn't see the point in many friends or acquaintances. Who Noah would consider a friend and the levels of trust they would have to reach to achieve that title is a far steeper mountain to climb than most people.

Drace: She is fairly good friends with Zargabaath. They are, for the most part, pragmatic people who often see eye to eye on matters of politics. That was, until Zargabaath accepted Vayne as emperor so soon after his father's death and without an election, which Drace refused to do. But up until then, they had been on friendly terms wiht each other.

Caelen: He, like Basch, also makes friends easily. This is due to his genuine interest and curiosity regarding other people. Caelen is one of those people who is always asking how others are doing, asking how their day is going, and asking other questions about their lives out of a genuine desire to just be social and friendly. As a result, he learns a lot about people wherever he goes and gains their trust with his helpful and kind attitude.

Munoh: They were very hurt by being cast out and labeled a heretic, for they considered other Occuria to be their friends. There aren't many Occurians left anymore, and so Munoh values each and every one of them. It did not appear as though this affection was reciprocated, however, for they were quick to cast out both Munoh and Venat despite having known them for eons. This was shockingly upsetting to Munoh, who felt as thought they lost all their closest friends in one fell swoop.

hc + 🎵 for a music-themed headcanon

Basch: He has a nice singing voice, like his brother, but no one really knows it, for he never uses it. Singing is just not something that Basch ever thinks to do. It's unfortunate, because if he did choose to sing more often, he'd be very good at it.

Ashe: She has a beautiful singing voice, but it's a little crazy and all over the place because she's had no formal training. After her attempts to learn the harp in her youth proved more frustrating than productive, it was decided that music wouldn't be something she should pursue. Therefore, that was the end of any and all music lessons she was given. As a result, she has a naturally beautiful singing voice, but doesn't know what to do with it half the time.

Noah: His favorite type of instrumental music is strings. Violins, violas, cellos, etc. He finds the quality of the sound and the vibrations produced by the instruments to be very soothing. In his MCU verse, Noah would very much like classical music with strong string influences.

Drace: She is absolutely tone deaf. Cannot carry a tune to save her life. Noah thinks this is thoroughly amusing and has, at times, teased her when she tried to hum or sing something. She doesn't mind, although it does frustrate her that she cannot sing in tune.

Caelen: He loves folk music. One of his favorite things to do in Old Archades is to listen to the various bards that play on the streets. He cannot play any instruments himself, but he can appreciate people who have those skills. He always makes sure to tip those who are in need, especially if they are able to keep him there listening for a while and hold his interest.

Munoh: They love mortal music and are fascinated by how many different types have been developed over the years. Because they don't have a physical body, they cannot create music of their own by playing instruments, and their voice is not conducive to singing. So they rely on mortals to hear and experience music for themselves.

[the-pigeon-queen]

I just binged like 3/4 of your comic (slowed my roll to save some serotonin for later) and. Oh my god?? The art style is absolutely delightful! So warm and clean and emotive!! The characters are all so unique and likable!! I have never met these characters before today but I would protect them with my life. The most wholesome, aesthetically pleasing, delightfully anti-authority thing I’ve ever read. I genuinely can’t think of a comic that I’ve been more instantly hooked on. I wanna see Fleet climb a mountain and live their best life with all their friends 🥺 Do you have any advice on learning how to draw?? I’d love to be able to create something half this awesome some day! Thank you so so much for creating this and sharing it with the world :D

:']!! That's so very kind of you to say!! And I'm super happy that you like my comic so much! Rectify has been one big experiment for me, in both art and story telling, so I'm really happy to hear that it's been an enjoyable read :'']!

I hope you like how the story continues! ^-^

Sorry I've answered this ask a little late, I was legit trying to think of art tips ^^;; I only took an art class in high school, and I've kind of winged it ever since. I don't think I'm the best at giving art advice, and I don't just want to reiterate the things everyone always says.

I don't know how new you are to art, so these may or may not be all that helpful ^^;; There's a lot of specific advice that can be given about learning how to draw specific things, but if you've just started learning, the best place to start are basics!

*** Disclaimer: I'm not an expert or even trained in art :'] But if you want to see what I came up with, the advice is under the cut

Just keep drawing

I know that's the piece of advice everyone gives, but it really is the most important. It's so easy to try drawing once and give up when a drawing doesn't turn out the way you envision it. Getting discouraged is easy, but you have to tell yourself that there is a right combination of lines that will produce the image you want to make - you just have to keep trying to find it.

Drawing is both 'making your hand good at shapes' and half 'your brain learning the way shapes should be made'

There's definitely a technical aspect to drawing. Your hand will get more used to making lines and shapes.

But a big part of learning to draw is learning how shapes come together to create something bigger.

The more you look at art, the more you make art, the more your brain will understand how things come together.

Art is something you learn, so it's something you'll get better at :]! Even a week's worth of practice will show improvement.

Draw from a reference if you're teaching yourself how to draw something!

Using a ref is NOT cheating! I use refs! I've googled 'man throwing baseball' or 'person running' or 'hand holding a mug' so many times

There is never any shame in using a ref

If you're learning, you should only be using refs

It gets you used to drawing in perspective, without you specifically practicing perspective

Basic Shapes!

Everything can be broken into basic shapes. Even people are just a collection of boxes and spheres.

So if you've never drawn, draw some basic shapes and familiarize yourself with their 3D aspects

Then try breaking down an object into it's basic shapes!

Basic Color Stuff

The color wheel

Again, not sure how new you are to art, so I'm sorry if this is super redundant

complimentary colors like each other. The big ones are blue=orange, red=green, yellow=purple. Every color has a 'compliment': Blueish greens like orangish reds. Purpleish reds like yellowish oranges.

Experiment with color! You'll naturally like some combinations more than others and the more you experiment, the more you'll find things you like

Hue = the specific color

Saturation = how intense the hue is. Don't make every color super saturated, or it might be too overwhelming.

So, gonna get more specific here.

If you want to draw people, and you are just starting out, I would recommend starting here.

Find an image of a person

Break that person down into boxes and circles. Circles for joints, and boxes for the rest.

Draw lines down the front of the person to help you orient them

This will get you used to how a body comes together.

These two examples used came from https://twitter.com/JookpubStock on twitter. I highly recommend checking out their catalogue!

Now, I traced these. Tracing is a tool used to learn.

(( This may not be applicable to you, but if anyone's actually reading this, here are the tracing no-no's I follow:

Don't trace another artist's artwork.

Don't claim a trace as your own original work***

Don't sell a trace***

If you trace an explicitly free photo or model (like above) drop a credit or link to the original

*** unless you traced a photograph or work that you yourself personally made or took )))

Tracing a pose can help you learn how basic shapes come together to form a pose. The goal is to eventually create your own poses!

Once you're comfortable with that, try drawing the pose without tracing.

The other most helpful thing I did in art class was gesture drawing! You don't trace these - you just find an image and you give your best quick attempt at it. You capture the gesture. There's no limit to how much time you can spend on a gesture drawing, but the idea is to make them quick and loose!

I hope these have been at least a little helpful :]! Art is such a wide field there is so much general advice to give. The most important advice I can give is just keep drawing and don't be afraid to try new things ^^ Don't restrain yourself to one style. Just make what you feel like making in the moment!

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

TMA x Malevolent fic: Corrupted (in progress)

Anybody want some angst?

-----------

He never thought Danny would get into anything dangerous. Not really.

Mountain climbing wasn’t great, but Danny had been careful, with equipment and partners and training and whatever.

It hadn’t lasted long, anyway. None of Danny’s fads did.

He wasn’t stupid, was he? 

Danny was not, Tim tells himself, stupid.

That means there’s no excuse for this. “Danny, I don’t know about this.”

This is a book.

A book Danny has evidently stolen from some cultists? Who beat him up in the process?

There is blood on Danny’s knuckles. “Just hide it,” Danny says, his face swollen, one eye completely shut, purple blooming below the other. “Don’t open it. Okay? Don’t. Don’t ever. But please, I… I can’t let them get this.”

It’s four a.m. Tim is not his best at four a.m. He might’ve functioned better an hour ago, but right now, he’s bleary, feels like he’s trying to race while wearing socks on a grease-slicked floor. “There are cultists?”

“Just take it.”

“But what… the hell? You need a doctor. Or the police.”

“No time.” And Danny gives him a tight, hard hug.

So that’s a goodbye.

Tim swings from annoyed and spooked into terrified. “Danny, what - ”

Danny actually kisses him on the cheek.

Then he tugs his hoodie back over his face, and takes off at a run.

By the time Tim’s foggy brain goes After him, idiot! it’s too late. Danny’s long gone.

Tim checks his phone.

Danny has turned off location.

It has to be a prank.

Has to.

Tim closes the door. Locks it.

Makes sure his windows are locked.

Cannot go back to sleep.

Later, when the police come to ask him to identify the body, Tim knows he’s gone into shock because he can’t remember anything they said.

#

He forgets about the book.

Nigel is an asshole, but at least agrees to give him three weeks of compassionate leave.

It’s publishing, for crying out loud. They can do without Tim for that long.

“I’m all that’s left, you know?” he tells the police, the morgue, the funeral director.

“I’m all that’s left, you know?” he says with as he arranges the burial, the shut-off of Danny’s utilities.

“I’m all that’s left, you know?” he tells Danny’s contacts who come by to take his things - folks who were friends only due to shared interests, and who, fortunately, have a need for all of Danny’s toys.

Most of those toys are barely used. Danny never kept his hobbies long.

And then it’s over, and the apartment is emptied, and the furniture is sold, and the funeral is done, and Tim has two more weeks of compassionate leave to waste.

He’s not good with spinning his wheels.

He keeps thinking, I need to tell Danny what a shit week this has been, because it’s habit, because his brain won’t stop.

He needs… 

He needs Danny.

His parents’ house feels too big, even though he was already living in it alone.

He can’t do this.

Every corner reminds him of Danny.

Every room carries echoes of a conversation, a laugh, a drunken brawl. Something precious and forever lost.

“I’m all that’s left, you know?” he whispers to no one, and knows he has to move.

#

Nigel won’t give him more compassionate leave.

Tim quits.

Homes in Woking go for a lot more than when mum and dad bought the place. Once he sells the house, he'll be fine. For a while, anyway.

“Five years climbing the publishing ladder, thrown away in an instant?” Nigel said as Tim signed his final paperwork. “It’s not too late. You can still choose not to burn down your life.”

My life is buried in Addlestone, he thinks, but chooses not to say.

A few people say goodbye, but most don't; too many envied him, or resented his easy charm.

It’s odd, really: five years in the place, and yet he doesn’t regret leaving it at all.

#

The house sells fast.

Of course.

It’s while packing that Tim finds the book again.

It’s weird. Very weird. A strange black leather, and not one he recognizes, it feels thick, oddly squishy; a weird proportion, as well - too wide, uncomfortable to hold in the human hand.

It has a weird, three-hook symbol Tim has never seen before, embedded on the front and made of some sort of metal.

Danny died for this.

This thing. This… fucking… gods-damned piece of print and hide.

Should he take it to the cops?

Probably. Fingerprints, or something.

He wants to fucking burn it.

“Doubt you have anything that matters in you, do you?” Tim says, and opens it on the off-chance some cultist wrote their phone number on page one.

How about that? There’s a bookplate. FROM THE LIBRARY OF JURGEN LEITNER, it says.

Well, well, well! They could do something with this! An actual name, identifiable, probably easy to match to other books in the guy’s - 

There's a noise like rushing waves, like encroaching tsunami, and he only has time to think fuck, my eyes HURT before he is swallowed by the dark.

[guideoftime]

[ rescue ] sender carries receiver to safety

🐝  *  ―  𝑵𝑶𝑵-𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺. [ rescue ] sender carries receiver to safety + reverse because that worked easier. @dutifulsilence

   It came out of nowhere. 

   That is Sheik’s first thought when the two of them spot the Lynel prowling around on top of the mountain they were climbing. Sheik had thought this path would give them higher clearage to see, thought it would make it easier for them to find their bearings and any more shrines that Link wanted to do to purify his body. He was getting more impatient about finding them, wanting to work his way around through them as quickly as he could. So higher ground; more shrines. That was what Sheik thought to offer. 

   He was greatly regretting that now. Lynel’s have incredible sight and aim, they were fierce monsters that made their lives rather difficult. Though more rare than they had been during Link’s first quest, the ones that still prowled around were something that anyone could agree to avoid. Especially given the color of this one. Silver. Like the whites of the normal Sheikah’s hair. As white as the snow it was leaving tracks in, bits of red struck through it from whatever the beast's last victim was. 

   Unfortunately, as the thought to run does strike through his head, the creature clocks them as quickly as they had it. Sheik’s next instinct was a rather drastic one. He shoved Link to the left and ran to the right himself, hoping if they split up it might give them enough of a chance to confuse the creature and get away. He had, honestly, forgotten to account for the fact that Lynel’s were quick and the Hero rarely backed down from a challenge. Link’s first instinct was always to fight, and it wasn’t a bad one. 

   He just wished the man would consider his own health. 

   The moment he engaged the creature in combat Sheik felt his heart lodge itself right in his throat. Sheik cursed Link quietly, yanked a dagger out from his thigh holder and rushed after the Lynel prowling around. He spun the dagger in his hand, slid in the snow and flicked the weapon out at the beast. It nicked the creature in the head, forced them to turn their attention toward him and then it charged. 

   Sheik is not trained to fight in the snow. He doesn’t move well in it, the wet and cold makes him slower, and over all this was just not a place he was meant to fight in. So when the Lynel charged, he tried his best to quickly move out of the way but his foot again slid in the snow and nearly knocked him right back down to the ground. He was going to be stabbed, head cleaved from his shoulders, another corpse for the beast to chew on. 

   And then Link was suddenly in the way. 

   He saw the sword cut clear across their chest, throw Link across the mountain they were on, and his body connect with the ground before sliding right over the edge. Sheik reacted without even hesitating. Pushing himself up he rushed to the edge of the cliff, leaned over it and saw the Hero’s body hit the edge of the mountain, the briefest fluttering of a pink light circling around him, before landing with the ground. 

   He just laid there unmoving and from so high up Sheik couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. Behind him the Lynel gave a loud cry and Sheik glanced quickly back over at them before deciding what he had to do. He flipped himself over the edge of the mountain, yanked two more daggers from his holders and dug them into the stone mountain. It slowed his fall, stopped him entirely at one point and then he dropped down beside the Hero on the ground. He was breathing, but he was badly injured too, Sheik could see the red that was staining the ground beneath him. 

   When he had given him that bottled fairy it had been an off handed thought. A dream that had woken him up one night before that. “I dreamt that a bottled fairy can save your life if it’s ever in danger of ending. I know it’s silly, but just carry it for me, alright?” Sheik hadn’t actually thought it would ever come in use. 

   Maybe he had just hoped it wouldn’t. 

   The sound of stomping above them drew his attention back upward and Sheik saw the Lynel start notching arrows in its bow. A string of curses falls from his lips and he throws himself over the Hero, bracing his hands on either side of their body as he shielded Link with his own. The arrows found roots in his back and shoulders, digging in deep and painfully. He clenches his jaw tightly, hisses out a quiet pained breath and darts his gaze around the area they were in. Risoka Snowfield, they had fallen from Gerudo Summit. Link had thought there would be a shrine here, in such an empty place, and of course–he was right. Sheik spots the glowing green of the shrine and makes a decision. 

   “I’m sorry, this is going to hurt.” Though his partner was unconscious, the gentle words still slipped from his lips. He can’t afford to break down now, help Link first and then he can figure out what he’s feeling. The situation matters more than his personal feelings on it. 

   He slides his hands along Link’s body and finds the safest place to rest them. After turning him over onto his back he scooped his arms beneath the Hero and carefully lifted him up. Link wasn’t a heavy person, and being the same height as Sheik he wasn’t that awkward to carry, but his weapons made him heavy and awkward. He was tempted to yank them off and leave them right here but Link might be upset. They had fought hard to collect them and they broke far too often. He shouldered the Hero’s bow and sword himself after some thought, the shield wasn’t too hard to work his arms around, and he carried the bleeding man toward the shrine. 

   At this point, the Lynel had managed enough arrows in Sheik’s body for it to be inconvenient and painful. He moved far too slowly for his own liking, especially in the snow, but he managed at least to get the Hero over to the shrine. He’s always refused to enter them when asked, he wasn’t even sure if he could, but they need somewhere to wait out the Lynel’s wrath. So, having watched Link do this often, he raised the Zonai arm and pressed it to the green ward in front of the stone surface. 

   It made some weird reaction, the splintering of the green light, and then a spinning portal he could see through opened. Carefully adjusting the Hero in his arms he stepped through the shrine and into it. There didn’t seem to be any sort of trial here, he could see the statue of Rauru and his wife in the distance, as well as what looked like a chest in the middle. He carried Link further into the room and then sat him down on the ground, letting him rest back against the chest. 

   He has to heal him, with the magic of the fairy still flowing through his body, Sheik actually hoped he could rely on that to direct the magic of his own harp. He’s heard the Song of Healing in his dreams, he hasn’t tested it but–better now than never at all. Sighing he reached behind him and yanked the harp out, setting it on the ground between them as he settled across from Link. The arrows were yanked out next, left in a bloody heap beside him, and then he picked his instrument back up. 

   “Hylia, please let me help him.” Another careful breath, something to calm his own mind, and then Sheik rested his fingers on the harp and played. 

   The Song of Healing filled the room, a rather eerie and haunting melody. He played it over and over, the end of each round looped back around to the start. He fed the magic of the fairy that had saved the Hero’s life and amplified it with the song, mending the Hero’s broken bones and whatever other damage he had. Sheik played until his fingers ached, until they felt like they would crack open, until he was scraping at the bottom of his magic reserves. Hours it was, yet he didn’t dare stop. 

   It was his fault that Link got hurt, but the fact he was hurt at all was what settled heavily in his gut. And Sheik found the name for the emotion he felt. 

   Terror and heartbreak. 

   So he played until he had nothing left in him and the song stopped having any effect. 

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

Moravia-Silesia Gothic

Some may apply to other parts of Czech Republic or other Slavic/former Eastern Bloc countries

if you showed someone a photo of an apartment block in Pripyat and an apartment block in the city you were born in, they would not be able to tell a difference. you too cannot tell the difference

America is huge and scary, czech republic is weird because there's a lot of contrast between the old and new, nature and civilisation, modernity and decay and everything is super close to each other but still feels like whole different worlds

the apartment blocks, a staple of the communist era and symbol of urbanization, standing just a few hundred meters from a forest

the forests look like small leftovers of wilderness surrounded by agriculture, but they are a lot bigger once you enter

as you go through the forest you keep finding strips of colorful crepe paper on the branches. you cannot remember when was the last time someone organized a fairytale forest event here. the colors are not faded

the endless canola fields, the toxic yellow feels like a punch in the eye. or a punch in the nose if you are allergic. the Agrofert empire grows larger every year, consuming everything in its path

portions of forests destroyed by parasites, dry and dead and surrounded by life like an empty hole ripped out of a living body

mountains with places covered with little rock towers build by those before you. it is good to leave another rock on one of the towers. make sure it does not collapse

tourist marks that are not on the marked roads. the symbols look different from the official labels. they still lead you where you need to

walking through villages where time seems to have stopped in the early 20th century. you climb on the next hill and see a shiny modern bridge, and feel like you just travelled through time

every village has a stork nest. if there is no signs of storks there is something very wrong with the place

you go mushroom foraging. you spend a few hours in the forest. you leave the forest and see a small village. the signs are in Polish. you did not notice crossing the border with Poland

that one small airport sitting in the middle of a field with an old decomissioned biplane standing guard that everyone knows by name

abandoned railroads, water-powered electric power plants, storage house and guard houses rusting on the edges of forests, overgrown by bushes

every hill has the ruins of a castle and a chain of WWII bunkers just nearby

there is a WWII bunker just a short walk from your house

the school you went to had lockers underground, behind thick metal doors. only later you realized they were bomb shelters from fifty or more years ago

rusting empty industrial buildings standing right next to modern new shiny shopping centres, slowly decaying but oddly beautiful

old abandoned communist buildings that never got finished, behemoths of the past showing their bare bones to the sun and wind, full of shadows and forgotten hopes

sometimes the abandoned constructions get rebuilt almost overnight without warning

places that have long since been renamed but the locals still use the old names, even though they were born ages after the regime they were named under fell. it may have been renamed to Hlavní třída, but children still call it Leninka before even learning who Lenin was

train stations in the middle of fields and forests, no buildings, no way of buying tickets, only the rails and a small stone platform, a sign with the station name if you're lucky, surrounded by briar bushes

slightly larger train stations with a single waiting room and only one ticket office that hasn't been open for decades, with broken windows, glass shards on the ground and nasty smell, covered with graffiti and so silent you can hear your heartbeat. the few people you ever meet there are not the kind you want to speak to, and you pray they don't speak to you

humongous train stations build for the influx of workers in new power plants and factories that got abandoned the moment the factories closed with the fall of the regime. walking through the deserted hall feels almost physically painful

in the entire building there is only one tiny shop still open, selling ice cream and alcohol. other shops are boarded up and there is grafitti everywhere, with heavy smell of cigarette smoke. when you enter it feels like the entire city has been dead for decades

the building has two floors. you want to see what's on the top floor. but you do not dare, even though it calls you

when you need to take a train from Ostrava you much rather cross the whole city to Svinov than take the train from Vítkovice

mushrooms grow in the middle of the city. bright red amanitas stubbornly living next to an asphalt road, luring kids from the nearby playground

your parents told you not to eat any cherries or plums growing in the city. you eat them anyway. they taste bitter and each of them most likely shortened your lifespan by a year. you keep on eating them

circles of grass surrounded by tall metal spikes like twisted hellish fairy rings. you know what's beneath them

there is the surface. then there is the cellars. then there is the caves. then there is Hell. then there is the black coal mines

the mines have been closed for ages but you can still feel the lights are on down there. you are sure there is someone still working in the mines. last night there was an earthquake. you remember that if the mines flooded half the city would sink. some towns already did

Landek is the only safe mine. it has been tamed. but you can still feel the presence of miners modern and from the Habsburk era as well as the prehistoric hunters

you can camp in Landek park, right next to the work hangar. The question is whether you should

you are certain the mammoth statue stood somewhere else just minutes ago

they say the local environment is healing. they say your city is one of the greenest in the country. the remnants of nature say otherwise

the air is heavy. the news suggested you to keep the windows closed at night. as you leave to work in early morning the streets are filled with haze that stings in the throat. from a distance the sky above the cities looks purple. when you get caught by a fog elsewhere you get confused. you forgot there is also natural fog. it feels strange to breathe fresh air

the slow pulsing orange glow above the city at night, like a heartbeat reminding you "this city never sleeps"

the river is by no means clean. foam often floats on top. your best childhood moments were spent playing in that water

pipes. in and outside the city. along the roads and train tracks. if you get lost, follow the pipes

the large waste ponds offer a nice place for a walk. ignore the sign telling you to turn back. but stay on the road. the trees are pretty but the ground is toxic

avoid puddles. some are genuine rainwater even in summer when it hasn't rained for weeks. some are dirty water. some are not water at all. the sight of the bottom can be misguiding

puddles near abandoned chemical plants are to be avoided at all costs. if you set foot there you fall in and no one will ever fish you out. there would not be much to fish out anyway

you get a text message. "Welcome to Poland. Your calls now cost so and so." you have not left the city and the border is kilometers away

you understand Slovak. you understand Polish. you understand a little German. a little Russian. the dialect you speak daily is an amalgamation of countless histories, lives of traders, steelworkers, miners and immigrants from all over. you can no longer tell which language the word you just said came from

you know your home is sick. you know what the rusting industrial towers stood for and how they affected the land for decades. yet you cannot help but find the land beautiful, and feel an odd pride in thriving in a place full of poison

[rin-itoshi]

kisses . genshin impact (pt. 2)

> summary: places the genshin boys kiss you other than the lips (ft. bennett, chongyun, razor, xiao, xingqiu, zhongli)

> content: fluff , gn!reader , ooc(?idk)

here’s part one!

# BENNETT

where: your palm!

why: this man does not know how to stfu, so when you have to forcefully shush him, your palm is the best spot for his lips to kiss.

“It’s awfully quiet today,” you murmured as you turned on your heels, hearing the whirlwind of a boy coming your way. He nearly tumbled—so close to crashing at your feet but fortunately caught himself before he could hit the ground. He stood up straight, dusting his clothes with a breathy laugh before yelping out a pained, “Ow!”

“What happened?” You ask as you reach out to cup his face, checking his head and skin for any injuries.

The male chuckled with a closed eyed smile, “I got hit by a rock!” His voice echoed within the city, making you slightly cringe when your ears ached. He was quick to go off on a tangent, babbling about some nonsense that made you even more confused than before.

“Bennett,” you call out to grasp his attention. The moment he turned your way, you slapped a hand over his mouth with an amused smile. “I know you’re excited and want to talk, but we should move away from the Knights of Favonius headquarters before Captain Kaeya kills us.”

He kissed your palm gently, eliciting a ticklish sensation in your hand that made you pull away. Before you could do anything about his sneaky kisses, he grabbed your hand and began dragging you away, talking about some adventure team he was putting together.

# CHONGYUN

where: your shoulders!

why: he likes the smoothness of your shoulder when he lays down behind you and can rest easily without being judged.

The bedroom door creaked open to reveal the blue haired male who stood in the doorway with a pensive look on his face. Upon seeing you lying in your shared bed, he exhaled deeply and you could practically see relief wash over is features. “[y/n],” he breathed out as he shuffled into the room, scurrying over the bed to climb onto the silk sheets and lay himself in the spot behind you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body into his chest as gently as possible. As hesitant as he was, he was way too tired to be reluctant about holding you even thought you clearly felt the same need for touch as him. “’m so tired.”

After a long day of training, he was exhausted and was in desperate need of your touch in order to replenish the energy he had depleted earlier that day. It was only much better now that you were both living together and were able to cuddle as much as needed after work.

“Welcome home, my love.”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, doing his absolute best to push away the strong emotions that burned inside of his heart. He refused to flare-up in front of you ever again, but with you unknowingly doing things to stir him up, he was always struggling to keep calm.

Peppering kisses along your shoulders, you felt a shiver run down your spine at the cold sensation of his lips on your skin. It was a blissful feeling, warming up your heart with love despite how cold his body truly was. Too beautiful.

# RAZOR

where: your eyelids!

why: this one may sound weird but he just gets curious when he keeps watch and tends to do it without a thought.

Razor stood tall at the peak of the mountain that you both temporarily resided on. His chin was held high, chest puffed out with a sense of responsibility flowing through his veins at the thought of watching over you while you slept to keep you out of harms way. It wasn’t necessarily a demanding duty but for you, it meant a thousand times more than it usually would have.

The boy approached your sleeping body. You were rested on the ground under his jacket that barely shielded you from the cold weather tonight presented to you both. He gently tugged his jacket further up your body, covering your arm that had been slightly exposed.

You were cute like this, sleeping so peacefully with so much trust in the guy who could barely communicate yet you loved him so much. It was amazing.

Subconsciously, he bent down and placed a chaste kiss on your eyelid. You stirred in your sleep, forcing him to jolt away in surprise before settling when you murmured something sleepily, smiled and then relaxed. Your behavior was new to him and yet, it brought so many different feelings into his heart. Unknowing to you, he smiled genuinely and patted your head gently.

“You rest. I keep watch.”

# XIAO

where: your forehead!

why: he just thinks it is less embarrassing than trying to kiss you on the lips openly + less chances of him getting denied the kiss.

His expression was rather dark as you stood in front of one another. It looked like he was thinking deeply about something but you brushed it off, assuming it was just his way of sulking since you two were about to split for the night.

“I packed you some Almond Tofu, so you can eat some on your way back. I also got you a jacket to wear since it might be a little cold in the evening. I know you don’t sleep and stuff, so I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Your rambling about his well-being wasn’t new to him, which is why he didn’t interrupt you. He watched with the same dark expression that seemed scary but if you looked closely, you would see just how soft those eyes had become after spending so much time with a “mere human” like you.

Grasping you by the back of you head, he pulled you forward and leaned in briskly, kissing your forehead softly before pulling away and turning around. You barely had a second to recover as he adjusted his mask on his face and disappeared from your sight, muttering nothing but a simple, “be careful.”

You smiled at the tingling sensation on you skin, knowing he had only escaped to avoid feeling any type of emotion after kissing you so brazenly. As mean as Xiao seemed, he really was a simpleton with you.

# XINGQIU

where: the back of your hand!

why: do i have to explain?

“Xingqiu, where are we going?” You asked with a tired smile on your lips as you allowed yourself to be dragged along this upward slope with no set destination in mind. The boy simply laughed, pulling you faster until you were nearly tripping over your own feet. By the time you had planned to complain once more, he came to an abrupt stop and you almost bumped into his body if it wasn’t for your quick senses. “Where are we?”

“Take a look, my liege. Quite fascinating, is it not?” He said as he took a seat on the branch perched on the top of the hill, big enough for the two of them to sit on. You plopped beside him, admiring the sun that was beginning to set while Xingqiu opened a book to the page he had left off on.

“My life seems fulfilled when I am sat here with a book in my hands and you by my side. Don’t you agree?” HIs words were sincere, surprisingly void of that mischievous tone he usually had these days.

“I’m not particularly fond of books like you, but I am extremely fond of you. So, yes, I do agree.” You said with a cheesy smile, leaning in his direction. The boy abruptly stood up, and you rose an eyebrow in confusion.

Bending his body slightly, he held out his hand to you until you placed yours on top of his. Once you did so, he pressed his lips to the back of your hand and flashed you an easy smile. “With this, I owe my life to you, my liege. A vow much greater than marriage.”

# ZHONGLI

where: your lips!

why: I legit couldn’t think of a non-lips spot so i gave up. mans just likes the way your lips taste like his favorite wine. two good things.

He admired his cup with bright eyes, absolute taken with the way it tasted on his tongue and hadn’t changed in all these years. It was a beautiful emotion that was a mixture of happiness and nostalgia, plus a bit of romance considering he was here with the one he loved.

“What do you think?” Zhongli asked, eyes full of curiosity as he turned in your direction. You hadn’t said anything all night and he assumed you weren’t enjoying the wine he had presented to you so happily.

On contrary, it was way too good to be wasted, so you chose to drink it slowly in order to savor the beautiful taste that somehow reminded you of Zhongli himself. Maybe it was because he talked about this wine too much.

“It tastes good,” you murmur, leaning into his side to gain a bit of warmth from the male who shared the emotion, leaning into your touch.

You glanced up at him, smiling softly when you already saw his eyes on you. “Stop staring so impolitely. Where are your manners?” You asked jokingly, giggling softly when Zhongli looked down and chuckled.

Leaning in, he cupped your cheek and smashed your lips together. He could taste the Osmanthus wine on you and it nearly made him melt into the kiss that he had long suppressed.

When he pulled away, a small smile settled into his lips, satisfaction in his eyes. “Osmanthus wine tastes the same as I remember.”

a/n: finally, I finished it. im going to bed now uhhdhfjf (idk if i’ll ever do other characters but we’ll see)

[oh-katsuki]

Speechless (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader , Izuku x Reader

Content: Angst, pining, friend to lovers

Summary: Bakugou isn’t very good with words.

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: Sorry in advance for this… 

His words always failed him. Whenever the moment came, Bakugou could never seem to get past that choke in his throat.

There he’d be, looking at you at the desk beside him. He remembers you looking so pretty with your hair in those pigtails. Bakugou wanted to talk to you, to ask you where you’re from or for your name, but when you turn to him and utter that gentle hello in your smooth voice, his own falters. Bakugou’s at a loss for words and for the first time in his life, he wishes that he could swallow the pride that has been pushing him forward at such a steady pace to stop to meet your own.

Suddenly, his strides feel too wide on the play yard as you struggle to keep up and his voice feels too loud as you flinch slightly at each shout. It’s been like this forever, since he could remember. Bakugou’s always loved you, but that booming voice that he carries so proudly never seemed to let him say the words.

He’d never been able to tell you, not when you sat in front of him at your 5th grade graduation, your hands folded neatly in your lap, not at your first middle school dance and you asked him to slow dance with you. He took you to the dance floor with awkward hands, wide and calloused palms placed awkwardly over your figure, cheeks red with a blush so violent he can’t even remember what you looked like through it. Still, Bakugou just couldn’t say it.

It was around this time you’d met Midoriya. You were the only person who could stand up for him against Bakugou, who could pick him up from the floor in the presence of the angry blond. Bakugou remembers the first time he saw you take Midoriya’s hand in your own, guiding him up from the wooden floor, one hand in his and the other on his back. You’d said something about it not being funny anymore, about not picking on Deku so much. He’d have listened to what you said if it weren’t for the turning in his stomach, the unpleasant drop and twist of his gut at this newfound contact.

Even when you’d both gotten into UA, passing the entrance exam with flying colors, clinging to each other in a tight embrace, he hadn’t said it. He’d felt it then, the way your breath hitched when his hand travelled up the small of your back. You pulled away from him so slowly that day, like you’d been expecting him to say something.

And you had. You thought he’d finally confess, that maybe the abrasive boy you’d become best friends with would tell you that he loved you. You didn’t have to worry about going to different high schools or being separated by being in different hero courses, you could be together like you always have been. But Bakugou didn’t say anything. His lips stayed pressed in a tight line as you pulled back to face him, eyes searching yours and brows furrowed.

Bakugou’ll never forget the light gloss that covered your lips or the way your wide eyes looked up at him, so full of expectation. All he could manage was a click of his tongue, the rest of his statement; about you, about how much he loved you, got lost somewhere along the way.

In high school, Bakugou watched crushes come and go, watched as you dated and broke up and fell in love with people who weren’t him. It kills him. It hurts him every single time you come back from a date giddy and every single time you cry on his lap about the latest person to break your heart.

So he buries himself in his studies, focuses all of his energy on building himself up. Bakugou has a future to focus on, a career to worry about. After all, he’d be the number one hero someday, how could he not be with a quirk like that.

He skips out on your after school traditions, stops coming by on the weekends, becomes so absorbed in his goal that he doesn’t notice the way Izuku takes his place on your walks home. He doesn’t notice the glances you’d steal, or the doubt that seeded through your eyes each time he skipped out on another activity.

Until one day he did, finally deciding that he missed you, wanted to take the long way back with you. That’s when he realized just how far he’d let himself drift from you. You walked home with Izuku and he trailed behind, watching the way your hands grazed each other’s and the blush that crept up the back of Izuku’s neck.

So then Bakugou tried. He tried to get the words out in front of your house, long after Deku had left for his own. He wanted to force the words to fall through his lips, ignore the block he could feel building in his throat with each syllable he spoke. Fuck, he could feel the way you were slipping through his fingers like sand. He felt like he was scrambling, the words in his minding becoming mixed up and jumbled. Heat rose to his face and his blood roared in his ears, and finally he managed to choke out the words.

“You should focus more on training.” They were harsh and angry and as soon as he spat them out he knew he’d made a mistake.

It wasn’t what he’d meant to say, but it’s what came out. How could he not answer you when you asked him what made him say that?

“Shitty Deku’s distracting you.” Bakugou muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

He’d probably remember the words you spoke back to him that day for the rest of his life. Bakugou’s sure that this is where he went wrong, where the tables turned away from him permanently.

“Izuku’s a nice guy, Katsu. Nicer than you.” You’d spoken, plainly and flat faced, heat rising to your cheeks at your admittance. Bakugou hadn’t missed your usage of Deku’s first name.

Bakugou scrambled for you after that. He felt like he was facing a mountain, climbing, bare hands struggling to get a grip on the rocks that crumbled out from under him. He had to watch as you moved further and further away from him, watch as you fell in love with someone else.

Bakugou’d never been on the outside with you, but this was different and you both knew it. You hadn’t told him about your crush on Izuku, hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort until you were at his house one day, slipping your shoes back on to head home.

“Hey, so… “ You trailed off, lifting your bag further onto your shoulder. “Izuku asked me out.”

Bakugou could feel the way his entire heart seized up, surroundings growing hazy around him. Fuck, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything like it since. That drop into his stomach, bile rising up his throat as you peered at him.

“He did?” Was all he’d manage to say.

“Yeah,,,” You trailed off before looking up at him one more time. “What do you think I should do?”

You were asking him something, practically begging him to tell you to say no. If he said no you’d listen, you’d go to Katsuki without a second glance because the entire time he was loving you, you were loving him.

This was his chance, his opportunity to object, to finally confess. He’d been scrambling on those rocks for months now and you finally bumped him up to the top of the mountain with you in a heartbeat. You’re handing him it on a silver platter. Bakugou could breathe now, the playing field was even and all he had to do now was say it. Tell you just how deeply he’s loved you, how he loves the way you laugh, the way you get competitive for no reason, the way you talk in your sleep about whatever you’d eaten for lunch that day. Bakugou loved it all so irrevocably that it made him dizzy.

He’s at the finish line, but all he can feel is the grip in his throat, his pride closing off his airway and making his head swell. Bakugou wants to claw at his neck, he can’t let this happen again, not when he’s so close to finally getting it out. He’s screaming at himself but it feels like someone’s got a grip on his heart. It’s beating frantically and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s about to make you the first person he’s laid his soul bare to or if it’s because his pride is still trying to hold onto whatever dignity he has left. It’s years later and he still can’t manage to push past it. Years since he met you and he’s still fighting this same battle.

And finally, he chokes out a sentence. It’s garbled and angry and disgruntled, not at all how he wanted to tell you. Bakugou wanted to take your hands in his and confess, voice soft and hands gentle, but it came out strangled.

“Tch. Do whatever you want.”

It took Bakugou a moment to register what he’d said as he looked down at you, your fingers fiddling in front of you. He watched the heat rise to your face as you lifted your eyes up to look at him, brimmed with tears. Why did you look so hurt, wasn’t that the answer you wanted? The expression on your face struck him so deeply and as if it were some divine twist of fate, it was his reaction to this that had him certain that he’d never love another person the way he loved you.

You started dating Izuku two days later. Bakugou watched the two of you eat lunch together, watched you both walk through the hallways and home together. Suddenly, it wasn’t just you and him anymore. He was an odd man out and instead of fighting, Bakugou Katsuki let go in the only way he knew how. He buried himself back in his work, trained day and night and through the lunch periods so he wouldn’t have to see you with him. Most importantly though, he kept quiet.

Graduation rolled around and finally you’d all begun your lives as pro heroes. Bakugou didn’t have a chance to fight for you anymore. He’d hear about you in the news, text you, occasionally come over to have dinner until one day he was at yours a little later than usual and Izuku walked in. He doesn’t know why it didn’t hit him till then, when he watched you bow your head in shame at not having told him that you and Izuku had moved in together.

Bakugou held his tongue then too. He held it when the two of you adopted a fish, and then a dog, until eventually he was getting a pretty little envelope in the mail decorated with both of your names.

That’s how he supposes he ended up here, in front of a microphone on a stage with all of your friends and family watching. There you were in the front row, so beautiful in your white dress. Your eyes were so wide with excitement and Bakugou could see the way you squeezed Izuku’s hand where he held you. What did you expect him to say?

Yes, words always failed Bakugou. The microphone echoed painfully as he cleared his throat, the title of “Best Man” hovering so heavy over his head. There’s so much he wants to say but he’s standing there and he’s looking at you and he realizes that his last chance was a long time ago. He can’t tell you how much he loves you. He can’t tell you that the first thing he thinks about in the morning is the way you look when you smile. He can’t tell you that he wishes it was him next to you instead of the better man who came along.

So he tells you that you look beautiful in your dress. He tells you that Izuku is a lucky man. And finally, he wishes you and Izuku a long and happy marriage.

Bakugou’s shoes click on the floor as he leaves the stage and he takes a seat behind the bride. You kiss him on the cheek and for the first time in a very long time, Bakugou wants to cry.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Reckoning

Breach Masterlist

Warnings: non/dubcon sex (series), general angst, violence, death, trauma.

This is dark!Winter Soldier/Bucky and explicit. 18+ only.

Note: Promise I’ll update the masterlist today but here we are, we’re finally at the end. We’re saying goodbye to Bucky, Luka, and reader in this one. We’ve come a far way. This was one of the first series I started on here. It started as a one shot about the asset being the scariest but you guys turned it into something more, so thank you. (also that’s three endings in less than a week :))

I won’t demand but do ask for feedback; likes, reblogs, replies, comments, asks, especially on this series, but again, enjoy in your own way! <3 Love you!

You played with the leather strap around your thigh as you sat in the rattly train car. The freight was much like the one that saw you away from your prison so long ago and the same man sat with you, huddled behind the metal barrels and wooden crates. 

Your eyes rolled inside their lids as you thought of your son and his innocent voice as he sang his goodbye to you. Luka didn’t know you might not come back. It broke your heart to think you might not but you couldn’t let James face Hydra alone. He hadn’t let you.

Your hand settled over the gun strapped to your leg, another holstered against your chest beneath your jacket. There was a knife at your ankle and another at your belt. You were ready but you weren’t. How could you ever be ready for any of this?

“We’re almost there,” James whispered as he shifted beside you, “you alright?”

“Yeah, I…” you opened your eyes and tore your hand away from the gun, “ready.”

He nodded and got up to his feet, squatting behind the cargo as he pulled you up into a similar crouch. He checked your weapons then his own. He looked at you again and his lips thinned into an anxious line.

“Are you ready?” you asked.

“I have to be,” he answered and reached out to caress your cheek. You leaned into his hand then pulled him to you to peck his lips. He always seemed so meek when you touched him but he was softening.

“We are ready, James,” you assured him as much as yourself, “for Luka, we have to be.”

“You follow my lead. You can’t hesitate, understand?”

“I know,” you said, “I won’t. Those men, what they did to you… to us, they can never have our son. Never.”

“Never,” he echoed and turned. 

He kept low as he crept around the boxes and you followed. He unhooked the door and let it slide open with a loud grind. He reached back until you grabbed onto his arm and he stared at the moving ground.

“Up ahead, the bushes. You first, I’ll be right after you,” he said.

“I remember,” you said, “I know where we are.”

He looked at you and you let out a breath as you readied for your jump, “I lived close to here… with my mother.”

“Oh,” he uttered and went quiet.

“Come on,” you stood but kept hunched as you prepared to roll on impact, “this is about ending the past, not reliving it.”

He counted down and you leapt as the bushes thickened. You landed and rolled through the branches and dingy leaves. You heard him thumped down not far from you as you gulped the air. He was up before you and came to stand over you and offered his hand to get you to your feet. Despite it all, you barely felt the crash to earth.

“So you know where we are,” he said, “so you know where we go first.”

You pushed your shoulders back and sniffed. You said nothing and marched past him. He ran to catch up to you and you walked into the thin skeletal line of trees. He fixed the long bag on his back that held his rifle as his boots crushed the twigs and stones.

“Are you sure you’re--”

“What do we need from there?” you asked, “we get it and we go on.”

“Anything that’s left,” he replied.

You kept on, the terrain turning uneven and soon you were in the rocky passes that brought back bloody memories. That night with Luka in your arms as you walked in the boots of a deadman. You shuddered and kept on. You unholstered your gun as you got closer and James caught your shoulder before you could outpace him.

“I take the lead,” he warned, “you gotta slow down. You can’t just run in there and--”

“If there are any left, I will put them all down,” you swore as your hand shook, “you can’t understand. I have anger in my veins like none I’ve known before.”

He stared at you a moment and thoughts drew his brows together. His lips parted before he found the words, “and what else do you feel?”

“Certain,” you said, “that this will be over soon.”

He lowered his chin and puffed, his breath forming a cloud in the chill air, “this post is abandoned. They couldn’t have stayed after what happened but you stay alert and you point your gun at anything that moves.”

You nodded and he patted your arm. He turned and took the path ahead of you, the trail thinning out the further you got into the low mountains. As you approached the metal doors, he slowed and aimed his gun at the facade of the hidden compound. Rocks clattered beneath his boots and you brought your own weapon up in nervous expectation.

The doors were slightly open and he kicked one open, quickly poking his muzzle inside. He waved you on and you continued down the concrete hallway. The place was cleaned out but the bloodstains remained, painted across the floors and walls.

He led you down the corridors and checked each room as you waited without, watching each end of the hallway as he cleared the place. The further you got, the more the forlorn nostalgia took over you. You felt off, you felt every drop of blood coursing through you and the hot fury mingled with helpless sadness. You felt entirely weak but so powerful

When you got to the heart of the structure, you stopped and watched as James hesitated in turn. He braced himself and went forward into the eerily familiar room. The computers were smashed and the rusty medical equipment littered the floor. The glass chamber they used to keep him in bore the destruction of his escape and he went to it and peered inside.

You flinched as he broke away the last of the glass with his metal fist and quickly retreated. He was shaking as he began to tear open the filing cabinets, the locks cracking at the force of his intrusion.

You walked along the wall and slowly faced the windowed room. The bed was still there and the sparse furniture of your former existence. Your mouth fell open as your eyes tingled with tears. Those early days when you waited, when you dreaded his visits, when you watched him through the glass and wished for death.

You winced as he came up beside you and gently touched your arm. You looked at him and flicked away the moisture in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said and his cheek twitched in pain, “I’m so sorry--”

“James, I know it wasn’t you,” you said, “I don’t cry because of you, it is because of them.” You took his hand and squeezed it, “did you find anything?”

“A few things but not what we’re looking for,” he said, “this place is abandoned. Whatever was left of… the experiment has moved.”

“And we know it will be where we’re headed?”

“Stark’s intelligence suggests it will be and… from what I can remember, it’s likely. Bigger than this place. They took me there in the early days.” He cleared his throat and looked around, “we’ll keep going until dawn. We will find somewhere close enough to rest and then…”

“And then we finish this,” you let go of his hand and moved past him, “James, I’m ready. I really am.”

✰

After some hours in a half-burned hut, you were wired. You ate rations under the open roof before you set out again. You hadn’t slept much as you and James took turns on watch. You stretched and went out into the wild and winding paths.

You climbed the steep incline of and followed the crumbling trail. As you got higher, it got colder but you hardly felt it as adrenaline surged in your approach. You ducked down as you walked along a crooked ledge and hopped off to hide behind a tall stone outshoot.

You looked down at the monstrous gates of the compound. You laid flat as James fixed the scope on his rifle and peered through the lens. He bit his lip as he adjusted his sights before he pulled his eye away.

“I can get the guards but we have to be quick after.” He nodded behind you, “down there. Quick. Gun out and ready. I’ll be right behind you.”

“We can do this, James.”

He lined up his gun again and inhaled. He took his first shot, the noise muffled by the long silencer. Several others followed before he stood quickly and hung the gun from his shoulder. He pulled you up and you ran to the decline that led between the sharp walls of the mountain.

He was a few steps back as you made you way down the treacherous natural steps and slid down the last few. You slipped to your knees as voices sounded from the gates and James fired again.

You got up as he latched onto your elbow and continued forward. He reached to his belt and unhooked a grenade, throwing it at the gates as you ran behind him. You hung back as the metal gates shook with the blast and he directed you forward with two fingers.

As you reached the rent in the doors, he stopped and took two more shots. Men fell into the cold dirt and you raised your gun to take your first. You remembered all those hours of training though you never truly knew how useful they would be. It was always a precaution, always a what if, now it was your life or death.

You pulled the trigger and another man crumpled. You kept close to James and picked off the last few men outside the installation. A sudden siren began to whine as you neared the open doors and you could guess that one of the guards had fled inside to warn all those within.

James directed you inside and as you made your way down the corridor, you stopped at the end and listened. You couldn’t think of the hammering of your heart or the thought of the death at you fingertips. You could only think; left or right.

“We need to separate,” you said.

“No, you can’t--”

“This place is too big, I’ll slow you down and you’ll slow me,” you insisted, “I’ll go right.”

“No, we have to--”

“You showed me, James. I know what to do. I know what we need. We have our rendezvous. We know what happens if we do not get there.”

He shook his head and sighed. You heard footsteps.

“We have to go,” you said and before he could argue further, you raised your gun and ran around the corner.

The first man hit the wall after the bullet entered his chest, the second fell over him with your next shot, and the third slumped against the next corner. You heard James’ boots and his own shots as they flew in the other direction. You pressed on and reloaded before you took the next turn.

Your pulse filled your ears and kept you going. Everything felt so clear, so visible, so loud. You saw and heard it all. It was almost as if you knew what would happen before it did. You’d never felt this level of clarity.

You went deeper into the maze, bodies littered in your stead as others fled, those in white jackets, those like the men who’d tortured you. You followed them, they would lead you to what you needed.

A man surprised you as he lunged from a doorway. He slammed you into the wall and your gun fired into the ceiling. You kicked him and he grunted and you grabbed his arm as his hand stretched over your throat. Without pause, without thought, you twisted his arm and he screamed in agony as both his wrist and elbow snapped.

You shoved him away and finished the work with a bullet. You stared at his arm as the shock sunk in. How could you have done all that? It hadn’t felt like anything at all, like bending a toothpick.

You didn’t have time to linger as another appeared and you fired again. Warm blood spattered your front as your legs kept pushing through. You came to a large room but bullets preceded you. 

You peeked inside, James was already there. A flurry of men were engaged with him, those in camouflage and those in white. You downed two men before your gun was kicked from your hands. You grunted and ducked under a punch you didn’t even see was coming, you just knew. You reached to your belt and freed the long hunting knife.

The blade tore through the man's flesh like water. The sickly glide of the metal sickened you and the flood of warmth down our arm churned your stomach. You couldn’t stop, even as your fear rose, even as you realised the destruction you wrought.

Another man, this one broken by a kick that sent him into the wall. Your strength startled even you. You heard James and looked around. He was on his back, barely kicking away his attackers as he aimed desperately with his pistol. 

You broke through the wall of man, shoving them to the side so that they flew back into the machinery all around. You threw your knife at a man as he aimed at James and you wrenched back another and twisted his neck until it cracked. The third you broke over your knee.

You rolled away from them and freed the gun at your chest; one, two, three, four. They all fell dead at the pull of your trigger. James stared at you and sat up. He raised his gun as your own was too slow and you felt an arm around your neck, the pointed tip against your chin.

“Don’t,” the man warned as his white sleeve scratched at your throat, “she dies.”

James kept his aim steady as he got to his feet. The man choked you and pulled you a step back.

“Drop the gun,” he ordered in Russian. You gulped and tossed it down as the metal cut into your flesh just a little, “ah, always thought you would be back. Always expected it.”

“Let her go,” James said, “you can’t--”

“That is the problem, you see? The human emotion dampens the serum. We don’t need the mind, only the body--”

You were quick. You slid your hand up under the knife and fell to your knees, taking the man with you as the blade dug into your fingers. The shot knocked him off of you entirely and the knife fell free, your blood pouring down your hand. You sat back on your heels and reached for your gun with your uninjured hand.

“We get the files and get out,” James helped you up, “more will be coming.”

He drew you past the corpses and began to search the desk and cabinets. He took a black folder and you helped break open several of the computers to remove their hard drives. He packed it all into the compact pack on your back and zipped it up.

He shot past your head as more soldiers appeared. He nudged you forward and yelled, “come on.”

You raced away from the east wing and barrelled down the winding corridors, following the trail of bodies left by your entrance. You added several more to the floor until you reached the front door. Gunfire followed your departure, met only in defensive retreat.

You carried on past the gate and into the rocky impasse. A sudden blast shook the ground and James caught your arm and urged you on. You didn’t look back as the shots faded into thundering booms and bangs.

You kept on until you couldn’t hear the carnage, until it was silent but for the whistling of the mountain air, until the adrenaline was gone and your hand seared with pain, the rest of the unnoticed aches rising to the surface. 

James stopped you and pulled you into a dark cave. He fished out his flashlight and little up the stony walls as he led you further inside. He pushed his head back and took a breath and he let the flashlight rest on its side and cast a plume over the dark space.

“We have to bandage your hand before we press on,” he said, “we get to the bottom at nightfall and keep going.”

“What was that?” you asked as he pulled out his aid kit from his pocket.

“My orders were to burn that place to the ground,” he said, “lucky the blast didn’t take the whole mountain down.”

He took your hand and wiped your fingers clean before he wrapped them in gauze. You were silent throughout as your heart slowed and you had a moment to think.

“James, what--” you blinked and looked down as he moved around you to unzip your bag, “I’m not mad. What was that?”

“No, you’re not,” he said as he pulled the folder out of the bag and went back around you, “it’s why we need to burn these.”

“What is it?” you asked.

He handed it over silently and retrieved his flashlight. He held it over the folder as you opened it. Your picture was at the front of the pile of papers, several signed by Ilyich, detailing the progression of your pregnancy. There were several explaining how the growth of the enhanced fetus affected the carrier. How the serum seemed to have molded with the DNA of the subject.

You looked up at James and frowned. It couldn’t be. 

“You never noticed before and I never wanted to make you,” he admitted, “I thought you would hate to be like me and that would be just another thing I did to you.”

“James…”

“I know, it was the soldier but it still feels like me,” he took the folder from you and closed it. “So I will keep you from one misery in this life. We destroy this now and when we reach the rendezvous, I delete any of that from those hard drives.”

“What do you--”

“We’re going back to Luka,” he said, “they can’t know because they will want to know more. They will want to try it again. Doesn’t matter if it’s Hydra or Stark.”

You nodded and he dug out his lighter. He lit the first page and watched it wilt into ash. You sat on a flat rock and rubbed your gloved hands together. You watched him burn the file a sheet at a time.

“I was reading about Canada. There was a program on the TV Luka was watching,” you said as added the last page and he stood, “what do you think? A nice little house for us. I hear it snows there. I love the snow.”

He clapped off his hands and reached for you. He drew you up and zipped your jacket up to your chin. He framed your face and smiled down at you in the glow of the flashlight hooked on his hip, “If you’ll be there, it sounds wonderful.”

✰✰✰

END

Thank you again for all your patience and support with this series. I’m sad but happy to be done. Let’s all imagine Luka getting to sled with Bucky up in the Great North and be at peace.

[unstoppableforcce]

dirty, pretty, beautiful

— “goddamn… I love to watch you work”

pairing: billy russo x f! street fighter! reader

masterlist | 5.2k | ko-fi

warnings: [18+], fighting, blood, blood kink (?), semi-public sex (? it’s a bar bathroom), slight choking, just overall violence (?) but enthusiastically consensual, all smut is from Billy’s POV

a/n: so maybe, I ignored every other WIP I have to write for billy russo. and yeah, this is 9000% inspired by the scene in 1x12 where billy is clearly turned on watching frank kill a man. but i really like the way this came out so I don’t even care

The warehouse had a stink to it. Musty, heady, metallic… Metallic like the remains of a handful of change against his palm. Metallic like waft of hot rain off the highest train tracks. Metallic like the taste of blood, coating his teeth, smothering his tongue until it was all he imagined he would ever taste again.

Fresh blood had a sweeter smell, a saltier smell even, but as more time passed, as the heat of the daily sunlight poured in through the windows left unboarded, as the frigid, damp night settled within the empty body of the building, the smell grew rancid. A ripe fruit passing it’s best by date, left to sit for far too long. A living liquor left to die, to rot, to stink. It was a smell he was far too familiar with, a smell that laced more of his memories than he cared to ever voice. A smell that, on his worst days, he found himself missing.

With hands heavy like weights, stuffed into his pockets to keep him anchored as the smell flooded his head, he managed his way forward towards the hum of the crowd. Hustlers worked the crowd, kids barely old enough to enlist waving hands full of crumpled bills and corralling bet after bet.

“We’ve got three fights! Three fights left until the main event!” One called.

“Place your bets and place them fast!” The next one chanted, over and over again, louder and louder each time a new wad of cash was pushed into his hands.

“This is a night you won’t want to miss.”

Clearly, the crowd agreed.

The itch of his sweater brought a new heat as he moved deeper into the crowd circled around the main cage, a cold sweat gathering at the back of his neck where the collar of his leather jacket met his skin. He knew better than to wear one of his suits to an event like this, but he still found himself missing the fond feel of the expensive fabric, the protective layer it granted him, the height it added to his already intimidating form. A few sideways stares told him he still stood out plenty on his own, but something about being dressed down struck a chord with him he didn’t like.

It was wearing a different skin, a more vulnerable skin, one that left him desperate in a way he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Billy Russo was a powerful man, but he hadn’t always been. It didn’t matter how many years it had been, he spent far too long walking on the edge, toeing a line. The group home, the bullies, the stares that followed his pretty fucking face wherever he went… one wrong move, one bad decision, and he could’ve ended up here under much different circumstances.

It could have been him in the ring, fighting for his next meal, fighting for his life.

His hand scratched at his beard as he shouldered further into the crowd for a better view, doing his best to ignore the brutal stench of violence and the unclean men surrounding him. It didn’t matter what feeling bubbled in his chest, nor what aching memories echoed in the back of his head, he was here for a reason. Recruiting discharged soldiers could only sustain their workforce for so long if special forces remnants and women remained hard to come by. When rumors started to grow, flowering up from the filthy underbelly of the city, a fighter to end all fights, he knew he had to get his offer on the table before anyone else could.

Anvil needed operatives. He had a job to do. The stench of blood and the avalanche of feelings that came with it, that was just… well, he could handle it. With or without his suit and tie.

“... El Tigre and the Mountain!”

The crowd roared for the first fight of the night.

There was a particular bias for the Mountain, which, upon laying eyes on him, made enough sense. He didn’t get the name out of irony, he towered over his opponent by a good foot, and no amount of speed on the smaller man’s part was going to make a difference. The fight lasted, violent hit after violent hit, but within a few minutes, the Mountain prevailed as expected.

Then another fight, just as brutal. Then another.

Watching men beat the shit out of each other, however, was nothing new. If he wanted unthinking violence and filthy brutality, he knew where he could get it a lot cheaper, he was here for overlooked skill, an underestimated killer. He was here for—

“The crowned royalty of chaos, the duchess of destruction, the princess of pain… the one and only…” his voice echoed across the warehouse, rumbling as the crowd grew uncontrollable. “The Queen of Combat!”

If the crowd had allowed enough space between where their rowdy bodies pressed against one another, Billy thought some of them might get on their knees and submit to you right there and then. Hell, the second he laid eyes on you, the thought even crossed his mind.

And he’d be lying if he said it didn’t linger.

The warehouse shook with unflinching loyalty, his ears defeaned by the corresponding cheers. Shoulders hit into his, shoved from behind, pushed by the guy in front of him, some of the crowd climbing up on the cage just to gain a mere inch closer to you. And yet, you made your way into the cage without sparing a glance to a single one of the aggressive animals clawing at the fencing, unphased by the noise, unflinching. Your chin lifted just above the noise and your graceful stature carried you the rest of the way in. Regal was an understatement, but, watching you as closely as everyone else, he wasn’t sure he even had the vocabulary to find a word that worked better.

Blood stained your hoodie, bruises scaled the ridges of your knuckles, and yet, he was sure that one word from you could summon an army out of the screaming crowd surrounding you. One word from you and Billy… well, the things he’d do for you.

His eyes locked on your knuckles, watching closely as you wrapped the brutalized skin away, then moved to your body as you tossed the old hoodie away. Scars and marks lined your torso—bruises left over from a fight a mere few days ago judging by the healing, scars from fights so long ago they were nearly faded, burns, cuts, slices, bumps… your skin was a war zone.

And he knew war zones. Shifting his weight from one foot to another, a hot pressure in his jeans apparent, he was sure he could lose himself in a war zone like that.

If the man who entered behind you was your opponent, it was clear there wasn’t more than a handful of souls in the whole arena who cared. There wasn’t a single clap out of beat, not one change in the roar of support aimed at you and you alone. He was bigger, sure, but if energy was anything to go by, he could be Paul fucking Bunyan and it wouldn’t have even come close to matching your unwavering support.

“Fighters, get ready.”

Your opponent took a few jumps, slapping his arms like he was Michael Phelps. You took one step forward, rolled your shoulders and leveled your stare.

There was no doubt in his mind who he considered a threat, who he considered a future asset.

“Tap out or knock out.” The kid stood between them reminded, and when neither of their deadly stares shifted, he nodded his head once, blew his whistle, and got the fuck out of the way as fast as possible.

But you… you waited.

Your opponent jumped at you, feigning left then right but not putting much strength either way, hoping for a flinch. A flinch he didn’t get. You didn’t even blink.

You just waited.

And when he opened up his left side in frustration after a series of perfectly blocked hits, you turned it on. He couldn’t even get his hands up fast enough.

It wasn’t like he was some nobody they pulled out of the gutter to have you fight tonight, he was clearly a skilled fighter of his own, it just didn’t matter in comparison. You were quick, controlled, deliberate. Two punches for every one of his. Perfectly placed to have him grunting and groaning while his landed with nothing more than a hiss or blink.

If he thought his sweater was suffocating him before, god, he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

He could feel the hum of his heart, and the sudden staccato everytime your fist connected with a crack. He could feel his pulse beating through every inch of his body, from his temples to his toes and every throbbing inch in between. Another hit, he could see the blood coating the wraps across your knuckles. Another hit, he could see the crimson staining your teeth.

He wanted a taste—no, he needed one.

A hit to the ribs had your opponent crinkling, a jab to the face had him spinning. A kick to the knee buckled him over, a knee to the chin sent his teeth up into his brain. As blood splattered up your bare thigh, your opponent collapsed to the concrete.

Knock out.

Even if he wasn’t truly out, he knew better than to move, his eyes already swelling shut, his unscarred skin bruised and bloodied.

The crowd went wild, but Billy couldn’t hear. He watched you swipe your wrapped hand against your chin, wiping away the blood from your lips, and he swore his mind short-circuited as his blood rerouted elsewhere. You were fucking gorgeous, you were delicious, you were his new religion, you were… Royalty.

A Queen.

Fuck, he was hard.

With your hand lifted in victory, the crowd reached a volume Billy hadn’t even thought possible, and when you ripped your hand away and moved back for your discarded sweats, the crowd again tried to swarm you. To touch you, to feel your power, to feel you up. He just watched. He’d catch you when you came back out, showered, with cash in your hand. In his experience, people were much more open to recruitment when they weren’t being verbally and sexually harassed by hoards of disgusting men with filthy leering stares.

It took about an hour, stood outside in the back alley where the late night wind beat him up with freezing gust after freezing gust, but when you came out, you were alone. That alone made it worth it.

Shouldering open the heavy metal door dressed in fresh sweats hanging loose off your hot muscles, you made it a whole two steps before you caught sight of where he lingered in your peripheral and nearly jumped out of your skin. “Staking out this door is a good way to get the shit beat out of you, you know.”

The cool bite in your tone hit even harder than the wind, but neither did anything to cool him down. In fact, his smirk only grew as you raised your chin in a stubborn challenge.

“Don’t worry, I come in peace.” He defended, lifting his hands where they held in his jacket pockets for the warmest show of surrender he could muster.

“Not interested.”

He took a careful step forward, eyes holding your piercing stare. “You haven’t even heard my offer.”

“Don’t have to.” The bag hanging over your shoulder shifted as the wind whipped by once more, and you quickly moved it down your arm as the weight found one of your more grueling injuries stretching the length of your collarbone. If he hadn’t been looking so closely, maybe you could have hidden your shrug, but he saw it all, he wanted to see it all, even as you argued back. “Whatever it is, I don’t need it in my life.”

Your feet found two more steps away before he pulled you back with his sly smile and slimier argument. “Just one drink.”

It’s not frustration that stops you this time, it’s curiosity, one brow raised as your arms cross over your chest. “Are you serious?”

For the first time, he doesn’t have an answer. For the first time, that perfect exterior cracks, his brow furrowing and his mouth left open. “What—“

“I mean…” your laugh shook him out of it, the sound something rough and throaty. “Seriously? I thought for sure you were here to recruit me for something, with this whole pretty boy soldier off-duty look you’ve got going on but no… you want to get a drink? Seriously? You waited out here for an hour in the cold because you want to fuck me?”

He cleared his throat as his stare and smirk absconded, was it really that obvious? Did he really even care if it was?

Business Billy, he reminded himself chastely.

Cutting the distance between the two of you in half, he extended his hand for a shake he knew he’d never get once his mouth opened. “Billy Russo,” he introduced.

Your smirk fell in the same second

“That Anvil guy?”

His hand pulled back and his disposition shifted to the only defense it knew, a cocky smirk and casual shrug. “My reputation precedes me, huh?”

“You take good people who get out and you toss them right back in.” The cold bite had vacated your tone entirely, and what replaced it, the heat of your righteous indignation, reignited the fire he felt when you were fighting. A match strike. A sharp cut against a stick of flint.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten it before, but coming from you… well, he just couldn’t turn his cheek to it. “I help those who can’t get back on their feet—“

“You help them get back to the hell that messed them up in the first place, you mean. How charitable.” The sarcasm was a slap to the face, and still, he couldn’t find it in himself to take a step back.

“At least I take care of my people, I pay better, I—“

Your scoff echoed around the empty alley, bouncing off the dumpsters and brick walls, reverberating in his ears until it was all he could hear. “Yeah? And just how much is a life worth to you?”

His jaw clenched. “More than the government, sweetheart.”

“That’s not really saying much, is it?”

He let loose a sigh, a breath of tension he didn’t even know he was holding as his shoulder twitched and his stare found anything to look at that wasn’t you. What was he supposed to say? What argument could he voice back? You had a point. Hell, he could see a younger version of himself making the same argument back when things first got bad over there, back when he first thought about getting out.

The sentiment was respectable, and your stubborn tenacity was nothing to scoff at, but this wasn’t about heart.

Some people just don’t make it out. Some people can’t. Why was he so wrong for offering them a path back, what was so immoral about offering the opportunity for them to profit off of what they were previously exploited for? If he didn’t do it, then someone else would. And at least… at least he cared. At least he knew what it felt like to come back home and not have a home waiting for you, to have blood on your hands so violently red that you can’t go back into the real world without people noticing.

Your knuckles, scarred and scabbing, told him that you knew too. You found your way back to the fighting, just like the ones he recruited to work for him. Were you really so different?

And still, a part of him knew that voicing that question, in that way, was a good way to get beat up.

His eyes found yours again as his hands lifted and fell back down to his sides, defeated. “You’re right, but it’s just the way things are. Not all of us come home and end up underground fighting royalty.”

Your head shook as you muffled your rough laughter. “It’s not as glamorous as it looks.”

“Nothing ever is.”

Now it was your stare that redirected, eyes dropping to your feet before you let them scale their way back up the rocky terrain of his dressed down form. Worn boots, dark jeans, tight sweater, leather jacket, and that face. That pretty face. Exhaustion buried in the bags beneath his eyes, frustration laced in the furrow of his brow, a familiarity in the darkness of his eyes, a void of everything you remembered, skilled violence and inescapable grief, a void so familiar, a void you could lose yourself in.

It was late. It was cold. And you were alone. You were always alone.

You had made worse choices.

Sucking your bottom lip in tight between the bite of your teeth and slowly letting it out, you cocked your head to the side and began working on the last of your stubborn defenses. “If I say yes to the drink, is it just going to be more of this recruitment talk?”

His head twisted into a similar quirk, his smirk slowly gaining back its traction on his lips as he took you in with a similar once over. He inched one hesitant step forward, and when you didn’t shy away from the renewed heat of his attention, he took another. “Well I mean… I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

“On how much talking we do.”

—

It had been a while since he last had bathroom sex.

His boots stuck to the filthy linoleum floor, making every shift of his footing an extra effort. The shitty fluorescent light overhead flickered in and out with an infuriating lack of rhythm, blinding one second and pathetically inadequate to see you beneath him the next. But as his fingers gripped tighter around the flesh of your thighs, pushing you down into the cool porcelain of the sink he had you sat on, he had to admit that you were right. For everything it was, at least the sink was clean.

“So…” The burn was exactly what he remembered it to be, the cheap liquor clawing at his throat as he forced the shot down, chasing it with a quick swig of the even cheaper beer you had ordered for him. “This is your bar of choice?”

There had been six shots, three for each of you to start with, but you smirked around your final shot and he couldn’t even think ahead to his second. “Is that judgement I hear?”

He could feel his shoulder tick as he corrected with a slow drawl, “curiosity.”

“There are worse bars.”

“There are better ones too—“ His hand caught yours as you reached for one of his two remaining shots, his fingers wrapping carefully around yours. “Do you mind?”

You tried to pull back but his grip didn’t budge.

“You didn’t seem interested,” you fought, following his eyes as they dipped down to your busted lips. Again, you tried your hand. Again, he refused to let go.

“I’m plenty interested.”

You could feel his grip loosen, but this time, you let him hold it there. If anything, you leaned into it. Reaching with your other hand, you brought your bottle to your mouth and wasted no time licking up the remnants of your sip left behind across your bottom lip. Again, his stare followed, his nose scrunching as something deep in his chest began to burn. Again, you leaned into it, close enough for his cologne to overtake any of the thousand other smells swirling around the packed bar.

“Actually,” setting your beer back down, your unoccupied hand found the inseam of his jeans, his legs perched open on his stool with you sat between them. “I like this bar because the bathrooms are the cleanest.”

Picking up his next shot, he couldn't help the twist of his brow nor the uptick of his heart rate as your fingers teased higher. “The bathrooms?”

“Yeah…” your casual tone betrayed the tension pulled taut between the two of you. Every point of contact had him burning. Your hand in his, a candle flame he couldn’t stop drifting his hand over even as it burned. Your hand inching on his thigh, a creeping flame following a line of detcord towards explosion. Your stare, a rumbling volcanic heat mere seconds away from erupting. The rowdy crowd surrounding the two of you was nothing, the stuttering breath fleeing your chest all he could hear.

He leaned in, his brow still furrowed in confusion.

You leaned closer, pulling your hand from his thigh to take his last shot for him. “You ever been fucked over a filthy sink, Marine?”

He prided himself on his composure, in battle and in bed, but fuck, with two fingers inside you feeling you clench around him and his head buried deep in the crook of your neck inhaling the harsh stench of industrial soap trying it’s best to cover the smell of blood, he could feel himself skirting dangerously close to an edge he wasn’t ready to fall off of yet. His dick wasn’t even out of his pants and still, when he thrust a third finger into you and saw your brutalized knuckles wrapped around his bicep, nails digging through the thick fabric of his sweater, his name falling wrecked from your lips, he very nearly lost it.

“Russo— Fuck—”

“You like that?” He challenged breathlessly back, biting down hard on your battle bruised shoulder to keep it together as you grew closer and closer to the same edge. The light flickered and his stare shifted back up towards your face. A Queen brought to a trembling mess, teeth piercing the already torn center of your beaten lip. “Yeah, you do, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” The whine that accompanied your words betrayed the cut of them and his smirk only grew.

His lips scaled the scarred terrain of your shoulders, climbing up the bruised battlefield of your neck, nipping at every inch you offered him with your head thrown back against the steamed up mirror. “Shut me up.”

Your chuckle intercepted your heaving breath, the hot pants hitting his skin and flushing his cheek. “Yeah?” You challenged, your words ghosting over his lips as he drew ever closer. The cut of your nails dug into his arm pulled back, your grip settling comfortably around his throat instead as you inhaled his violent groan. “Make me cum.”

He fought against your vice-like grip as you squeezed tighter and tighter, stealing a singular kiss from your lips. “Yes, Ma’am.”

These were his cheapest jeans anyways.

Dropping slowly to his knees, his neck pulled from your grasp and his mouth found your ready and weeping heat. With one lick, your thighs closed around his ears, one suck of your clit between his lips and one of your calloused hands found his hair while the other gripped tight to the sink for any hope of stability.

“Billy—”

His fingers had worked you too close to the edge already, it didn’t take long before his fingers, still deep inside you, found the right spot and the burning pressure of his mouth on your clit had you soaring. The beating pump of your blood filled your head, the thumping echo all you could hear as your vision began flickering in time with the ancient fluorescent over head. You could feel him moaning into you, your stubborn grip holding tight to his previously pristine head of hair, dragging you closer as your screams no doubt echoed around the small bathroom.

Maybe the music and the boisterous crowd outside in the bar would be loud enough to cover the sounds. Maybe not. He couldn’t care less.

All he cared about as he fought his way back to his feet was the lazy pull of your hand in his hair. All he could ever imagine caring about for the remainder of his lifetime was the effortless drag of your tongue over his chin and lips, collecting the remains of your orgasm before sucking him in for the longest kiss of the night. Loose. Languid. Luxurious.

“Was that up to your standards, your highness…” he murmured with a smirk along the side of your mouth, his hands scraping down to your thighs, dragging himself closer.

Your grip found itself again in his hair, tugging tight. “Take your pants off.”

“Ask nicely.”

He felt the warmth of your scoff against his cheek, but you agreed in the only way you knew how, your hand not buried in his hair dropping to the bulge in his jeans. “Please…” your lips pressed once to his chin, then to his neck, soothing the crescent mark your own nails had left. One kiss, then another, and before he could reach his hand to his own belt to comply, you bit into the mark and deepened the color. “Take your fucking pants off.”

His lips twisted into a snarl, but he had his belt off and his pants open in record time.

The condom in his wallet was only supposed to be a backup, but he had never been more grateful for his disgustingly hopeful thinking than he was to find it exactly where he had remembered it being wedged between the folds of leather. And as you pulled him out of his boxerbriefs and rolled it on with a few lazy pumps, your satisfied smirk told him you were equally grateful.

Still, your fought. “It’s not expired, is it?”

“God, I hate you.” He swore back, but his heart left halfway through the words, his chest deflating, a nearly whimpering moan leaving his lips as he pushed into your soaking folds. “I fucking—“

Your hips rolled as he seated himself fully within you and again, his breathing stuttered. If he thought he was close before, this was just embarrassing.

He remembered the ruthless violence of your fight, the blood running from your nose and staining your teeth, the strong pull between your shoulders as you landed hit after hit. He gripped tight to one of your thighs with one hand and flattened his other palm to the mirror behind your head as his pace picked up. He remembered the echoing crack as you landed your final blows, the utter brutality that oozed from you as you moved from one hit to the next. He dragged your hips closer, he pulled you flush against his chest, muffling your cries into his sweater.

He remembered your knuckles and every groan they elicited. He kissed your jaw, unable to stop himself from thinking of how many you had broken.

The rough drag of him inside of you was taunting, the feel of him so full yet your climax still dancing out of reach. It was too much and too good all at once. Too little and too overwhelming in the same breath.

“Billy—“ your broken sob tore through his chest with a heat he didn’t even recognize, a burn so heavenly he swore a sunburst sliced through him. “Fuck— Russo, yes—“

Every muscle in your body tightened around him, squeezing him, clawing at him, destroying his composure. He tried to draw it out, he tried to fight back from the edge, but your moans turned to music and his head emptied out. “I—“

“Come on,” you cooed, your words slurring as you forced his lips back to yours. He was melting, the heat was too much, searing his insides, charring his heart and fuck… he was melting into you. “That’s it.”

His nose scrunched, his teeth baring, a guttural snarl escaping his fiery chest as he powered himself even further into you. Again and again and again and— “Shit…”

You whimpered as his hips stuttered, you whined as he fell still.

“Shit…” he repeated, trying one last languid thrust as he found his way back down from his blinding high. “That was… fuck…”

“Yeah,” you muster just enough breath for a chuckle. “Yeah it was.”

He barely had enough time to catch his breath before you were pushing him back on unsteady legs, he barely managed to catch himself on the neighboring stall before you hopped down of the sink. He wanted to laugh at your sudden urgency, make some kind of joke, or pull you close and disregard it entirely, but he still couldn’t breathe. His hair fell in his face, his sweater rucked up around his waist and his dick barely soft—

He was a mess. A wrecked mess without the words to stop you. You already had your pants back on by the time he had the condom tied off in the trash, you were fixing yourself in the mirror before he even found a hold on his belt.

“You know, I know some bars with nicer bathrooms.” He finally fought, catching your attention as he fed the tongue of his belt back through. “Better beer too—“

A battering knock sounded on the door, making both of you jump. “Can you two hurry it the fuck up! Some of us have to pee!”

Neither of you two could hold yourselves back from laughing at that, breathless or not, even Billy felt a subtle heat rise to his cheeks. Not for getting caught—no, surely that was inevitable in a place this packed—but because he really didn’t care, because he wanted nothing more than to do it again.

You had to feel the same, that had to be as good for you as it was for him, god it was better than good. If you wanted him on his knees, he would beg. If you wanted to wreck his shit, he’d say ‘yes, please’—

You pressed a firm hand to his chest, forcing him back to the stall wall. Your lips hovered over his, so close, he could taste your breath. “This won’t happen again, pretty boy.”

His head quirked with a glare, your hand keeping him in place as he fought towards your lips. “No?”

“No.” Your lips grazed his as they formed around the word but it wasn’t enough.

“That’s a maybe then?”

“No, it’s not.” He could feel your pulse, the beat of your chest pounding against his as you keep him just close enough and still too far away. He could feel the lie as you made it.

His smirk only grew as his lips touched yours. “Well, if we’re not having sex, you should just come work for me.”

You hand slammed him back but he just laughed.

“Not fucking likely, Russo.”

He surged against your grip for one last kiss before you pulled back. “Well,” he sighed, slumping back against the wall and finally accepting his defeat. “I know where to find you, at least.”

Even your stubborn tenacity couldn’t hide your smirk as you unlocked the door. “Maybe so.”

That wasn’t a no.

[momowho34]

Time for another naruto au post that so long and complicated it might aswell be a fic in and of itself. Why am I like this :,) Naruto au where Itachi runs away from the village with Sasuke in tow and doesn’t leave him behind. Also Itachi is a little older then a teenager because it makes more sense. Buckle up this is a long one.

Itachi refuses to kill his family and runs to warn them but when he gets there everybody’s dead except for Sasuke, (who witnessed the whole thiNG OOPSY-) so he takes him and runs for their lives.

Itachi joins the akatsuki but uhhhhh now there’s a four year old tagging along and Itachi’s too scary for anybody to mention it.

Imagine the fluff and angst potential with the akatsuki oooooof there’s so much omg

At first they all think it’s super annoying but within like two days they would all gladly die for this kid. Seriously they were pretty sure their hearts were made of stone at this point but apparently not.

Kisame is surprisingly really good with kids, partly because he appears fairly calm on the outside without being too standoffish so Sasuke likes him best. Also Kisame could happily play peek-a-boo for the rest of his life he likes the small things

Kakazu is awful with kids but sasuke likes him anyway and he hates it (not really) Hidan.... really doesn’t know what to do. He’s never cared about another person in his life, okay? He kind of wants to kill the small child but he knows Itachi would steal his fucking knee caps and bury him at the bottom of the ocean so he doesn’t even mention it ever

Sasori is the mom when Itachi isn’t around. They would all feed him candy until he fucking died if Sasori didn’t stop that. Sasori is also the one to go “oh my GOD Deidara you can’t dare him to climb that mountain he could fall and hit his head no I don’t care about that deidaRA HE IS SEVEN YEARS OLD ITACHI IS GOING TO KILL YOU WHEN HE GETS HOME MARK MY WORDS—“

Tobi likes to blame all of his mistakes on Sasuke as a joke. Also they all teach Sasuke bits of their fighting styles so he becomes even more formidable and all of them are kind of freaked out by how quickly he masters their techniques

When he’s too young to tag along on missions he has to stay with Konan and Pain. He really values Konan because she’s really the only one of them who treats him like a person instead of a stupid child that needs protection.

“He costs too much,” Kakazu says. “He shouldn’t be here, what about how much it costs for him to stay with us” all while consistently finding room in the budget to get the kid anything and everything even though he’s fairly low maintenance to take care of

When Itachi arrives, everybody tries to disregard the rumors paired with Sasuke being there. Because of Itachi’s overall demeanor and Sasuke’s refusal to talk about it, they assume that he killed his family but didn’t kill his little brother for some reason

...And then Sasuke starts having nightmares. Like loud, screaming and crying in the middle of the night nightmares. Every time it happens, Itachi wakes up, calm and collected, and holds him until he falls asleep again. They all start having doubts about Itachi really killing his family.

Itachi doesn’t really hold a grudge against Konoha, but he didn’t see the whole family die like Sasuke did. Sasuke wants revenge, and he’s dead set on it.

Okay yeah but what abt the actual plot and stuff??? Don’t worry I’m there.

So a while later after that during Naruto’s three year journey (which he still takes with Jiraiya because he needs training to fight Orochimaru who is still a big threat btw) he meets this weird black haired kid staying at the same hotel he is.

Turns out they’ve both got caretakers who are absent (Jiraiya’s at a brothel somewhere and Kisame and Itachi are off killing some guy) which sucks so they bond over that and compare abilities and beat the shit out of eachother a little and develop a mini rival complex all of that but then

“Wow you’re so cool! You fight just like a ninja! You should come back with me!” Naruto laughs one day. Sasuke asks “Back to where?” And Naruto’s like “back to the leaf village of course! I’m a leaf village ninja, I’m out here training with my sensei! I forgot that I left my headband in the room, I can show it to you.” But Sasuke just gets really pale and runs off and Naruto doesn’t see him for the rest of the trip.

He thought he’d never see him again but then Sasuke gets separated from the Akatsuki members reeeaaaallly far away from their base and Konoha. As he’s trying to figure out what to do, a certain ninja crew happens to be in town. Naruto is like “omfg I know this kid!!!!!!!! Hey Sasuke!!!!! Hey Sasukeeeee!!!!!”

Sasuke is like o-o but then he starts to consider his options. If anybody figures out about his sharingan, he’s straight up fucked. His eyes are gone, he probably gets murdered. Naruto is like “what r u doing here????” And sasuke spins a fairly convincing story

He’s like “oh yeah and I know my way around this place so I can help you out could I maybe seek asylum in your village maybe??? I could be helpful” just so he can head in the general direction of Konoha and hopefully get closer to his base along the way.

So Kakashi begrudgingly agrees and Sasuke tries not to burn alive because he’s in the general proximity of leaf soldiers that he fucking hates and he will not grow attached to any of them at all no siree, not at all, no way!

Sasuke begins to grow close to them, of course. Sai and Sasuke do goth shenanigans and he fights with Naruto and tries to get Sakura to leave him alone (what is up with her why is she being so weird?)

Oh bonus angst: Tobi used to talk in his sleep sometimes, and at some point Sasuke drops “those who break the rules are scum, but those who leave their friends behind are worse then scum” casually and Kakashi almost has a full blown panic attack.

This is when he first realizes something is seriously up with this kid; and his first name sounds... familiar. His suspicions are just suspicions until they run into Orochimaru. Now Orochimaru could just out Sasuke as akatsuki, instead he plays with his feelings a little bit. He keeps saying things like “how does it feel to fight on the same side as your enemies for once?” And “have you forgotten already?” They defeat him without Sasuke revealing his sharingan but the jig is up in Kakashi’s mind.

Kakashi doesn’t quite connect the dots; but he’s almost there. Whoever this kid is, they’re coming back to the village for sure. It’s the safest thing to do. Meanwhile the Akatsuki are freaking out. Itachi is unhinged and almost grieving, they have no idea where Sasuke could be. The team is out in full force; including Tobi

And you know, Obito doesn’t care. He shouldn’t care, nothing matters in this false reality. It just doesn’t. Tobi might have given a shit about Sasuke, but Tobi isn’t real. He’s just a front, Tobi doesn’t exist. So why is he looking so hard for this stupid kid that he shouldn’t give a shit about? Obito convinces himself it’s just a front, it’s just part of Tobi’s act, but it’s not. What’s happening to him? Why is starting to feel things now, so deep into the plan?

Annnnnndddd that’s as far as I got with it lmao. That’s still pretty fucking far tho