#keeper melting dead on the ground behind him.

[arcadequeerz]

Not doing the best atm so I’m just gonna sit here imagining me w my faves.

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

A/N: So. I wrote Anakin. Honestly the man has been living rent free in my mind for so long and we all know what I’m like for an angry angsty Star Wars boy. I am suffering with Imposter Syndrome massively with this because I don’t think I got his character down 100%. And well, I am a perfectionist. Anyway, here have this dumpster fire of a one shot.

Anakin Skywalker x Sith!Reader

Warnings: Canon violence, character death, lots of a Jedi hate talk. Damn fucking Jedi. Oh and a shit ton of angst.

Word Count: 1909

Your black robes fluttered around your legs as you peered over the ledge, a Jedi ship had come into land and you let a sly smile creep across your face. It was the Jedi you wanted, you could feel the ripples of his power through the force, the anger and darkness always with him even if he didn’t use them. You moved away and headed deeper into the compound, he was coming to stop you, take you back to the Jedi Council. You felt the presence of the 501st as they spread out looking for you but their force signatures were dulled by the brightness of him. Already the anticipation of battle thrummed through your body, the hilts of your sabers melded perfectly to the curve of your palms. Pulling down the visor on your mask you paced feeling him coming closer and closer until finally the door opened and there he stood in his black Jedi robes.

“I assumed you’d got lost,” you shot at him.

“I could sense your loathsome presence as soon as I landed,” he replied haughtily. You carried on pacing, seeing his saber still attached to his belt, the sure arrogance he had in his abilities made you proud. He was always such a cocky bastard but he had every right to be.

“What happens now, Skywalker? You think I will go quietly so you can hand me over to the traitors of the Galaxy?”

“The Jedi are not the traitors here!” He roared.

“Yes they are! And you know it!” His eyes followed you, across the floor, his expression darkening. “How can you not see their narrow minded ideas are strangling the Galaxy? They sit in their temple, allowing this war to continue all the while saying they don’t advocate it. They are apparently keepers of the peace and yet shattering it time and time again!”

“No! I will not listen to your lies!” You lifted your chin in defiance.

“Then come and shut me up,” your voice sneered through the vocoder. He moved quickly and your sabers came alive in your hands, the loud clash of the beams sent sparks over your heads. “The Jedi are a lie, their only legacy is failure…” you continued.

“No!” The force push hit you in the chest and a laugh burst from your chest as you slammed into the wall.

“Yes! Use that rage on me, Anakin.”

“You don’t want me to fight you,” he threatened, making you grin behind the mask.

“Oh baby, I’m counting on it.” You ducked as his blue lightsaber pierced the wall, you took the opening, punching him in the stomach making him grunt in surprise and retreat, before coming at you again. The sabers danced in a pattern that was all too familiar. You met each other move for move, nothing survived the brightness of your blades as you both cleaved a path of destruction. You spun out of his reach, putting some debris between you knowing it wasn’t much of a barrier, not when it came to you and Anakin. “They are oppressing you Anakin! They will never set you free to accomplish your true potential! They do not see the power you possess.”

“And you do?” He asked aggressively, pointing his saber at your chest as he roamed across the floor.

“I have always seen you.” He frowned and you sensed his confusion at your words. Retracting your blades you removed your mask letting it fall to the floor with a thud. “They told you I was dead didn't they?” You asked softly. The brightness of his own blade diminished followed by the ripples of surprise and crushing sadness but he stayed where he was. “More lies,” you pointed out.

“I don’t understand, Obi-Wan…”

“Obi-Wan misled you. He didn’t want to tell you the truth in case you came looking for me,” you spread your arms. “But the force guided you back to me anyway.” He whispered your name like it physically pained him, taking a step back as you stepped forward. “Change is coming, the end of an era giving way to the dawn of the Empire.”

“No, stop!” He cried.

“Join me Anakin….we can make the Galaxy a better place.” You backed him against the wall, his blue eyes closing as though he could stop himself from seeing you. “I know the pain you bear,” you whispered leaning into him. “I can help you face it, use it.”

“It is not the Jedi way, I will not fall for this!” You turned away from him growling with frustration.

“Stop being so blind! How do you refuse to see through the veil of deceit they have draped over us?” You screamed.

“How do you refuse to see the good! Has the touch of the light left you that much in the dark?” It hurt you, seeing him like this, sensing his pain and torment but it was necessary. If you could get Anakin onside the war would be won and you would be Darth Sidious’ prize apprentice. Turning the Chosen one was a task only you could accomplish, because out of all the people in the Galaxy, you were the one Anakin would not bring himself to destroy.

“Where do we go from here?” You asked him, watching as his chest heaved in distress.

“You will come with me, maybe the Jedi can help you…” you tutted in annoyance at his words.

“What a ridiculous notion! The Jedi can’t even help themselves let alone anyone else. Look at Ahsoka…” his blade roared to life in his hands as he flew at you, clashing against your red blades.

“You will leave Ahsoka out of this!” He snarled.

“But she is a part of this, we are all a part of this story that the Jedi have written,” you shouted over the crackling of your blades as he forced you back. The blades scissored out and his face grew close enough so you could feel his breath on your face. “You know I speak the truth Anakin, it’s why it upsets you so much.”

“No!” The air was pushed from your body and you fell backwards, your sabers falling from your grasp and skitting across the floor. You looked up into the light of the blue blade, seeing him standing over you with that twisted look on his face. The light of it shone in his tear filled eyes and you waited with bated breath. “I trusted you! Why didn’t you come and find me?” He shouted.

“What good would it have done? Would you have helped me like you helped her?” His saber lowered, but it didn’t go out and you chose a different tactic. “They asked you to spy on the Chancellor didn’t they?” He frowned, not hiding the shock he felt at your words. “I have my sources,” you spoke before he could question where you got the information. “Did that feel right to you? Is that a Just course of action for the Jedi to take?”

“I don’t…” you stood up slowly keeping eye contact.

“Use your brain Anakin!”

“I am!” He yelled turning away, his hand held out to you as though he wanted to stop you advancing.

“Anakin,” you whispered. “Just embrace the darkness.” His body slumped and you felt the streams rushing past you as he accepted the pain and anger inside him. You laughed, opening your arms at the vortex created by the force, it swirled around him, welcoming him. “You will not regret this Anakin! He will reward you beyond your wildest dreams!” You retrieved your sabers off the floor, snapping them to your belt before picking up your mask. When you turned Anakin was right behind you, his piercing eyes staring straight through you.

“What do we do now?” He asked and you hesitated slightly, sensing something still had to be unlocked within him but you didn’t know what. It wasn’t your place, you weren’t his master. You were his equal.

“I will take you to my master. He will know what to do.” You began to walk off but his hand snatched at your arm.

“What did he tell you about the rules of the Sith?”

“Enough,” you responded. “We could overthrow him,” you suggested with a smirk. Anakin released your arm and you relaxed slightly. “We were always such a team, unbeatable even on the side of the light, imagine what we could accomplish with an entire Galaxy at our fingertips?”

“I missed you,” he whispered and you took a step towards him. You leaned your forehead against his temple finally allowing your feelings to come to the forefront. Anakin had been everything to you, it had killed you to leave him behind but Sidious had promised you happiness in the end and now here you are achieving that. Your hand sought his own out, his fingers clammy as he gripped you tightly.

“And I missed you,” you breathed against his skin. His face shifted, his nose pressing against your cheek and your heart pounded at finally being reunited with the one person you wanted in the entire Galaxy. “The Clones are coming,” you murmured.

“I can sense them,” he replied, still not moving away from you. His expression was one of torture and you swept a strand of hair gently off his brow.

“What’s wrong?” You asked softly.

“There is….something I need to do.”

“Can I help?” You whispered, brushing your lips against his cheek.

“Yes.” He shifted, your chests pressing together as he finally kissed you. His lips were soft and lingering making you melt into him so you were unprepared for the burning sensation in your side. Your mouth opened against his in a loud gasp of surprise, his tears glinted in the glowing blue light of his saber as it protruded from your body. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. You couldn’t speak, your body refused to take a breath and you could see the darkside emitting from his irises as he gazed mournfully at you. “My master sent me to find you.” He sobbed when you slumped against him, not able to hold your weight anymore, the smell of your own burning flesh making you feel sick. His blade retracted but still the pain remained, the sting of betrayal coupled with the hurt of your life ending by the hand you trusted the most.

He followed you to the ground, your legs folding like they had no bones left in them as numbness spread through your body. “I will see peace and justice reign in the new Empire.” Your eyes widened, the only response you were able to give as the life slowly ebbed away from you. “I will never forget you.” You wanted to ask why, he had been genuinely surprised to see you under the mask and then you realised you’d both been played. Only the strongest would come out of this room alive, but you had been blinded. Tricked by your own feelings that maybe, just maybe he would have joined you rather than burying you in his quest for power. His hand cradled your head, his tears pattering onto your skin, mingling with the lone tear that ran from the corner of your own eye. We could have done this together, Anakin….

“It never would have worked. I’m saving you.” He replied as your world grew darker. “You were the one war I could never win….until now.”

[rebeccccccaaa]

🄱🄰🄽🄳🄰🄶🄴🅂

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🄱🅄🄲🄺🅈 🄱🄰🅁🄽🄴🅂 🅇 🄳🄾🄲🅃🄾🅁!🅁🄴🄰🄳🄴🅁

🅁🄴🅀🅄🄴🅂🅃🄴🄳: obsessedwithmarvelman

hey there. i am new here so i don't know much. could you please do something fluffy where the reader is a doctor and bucky comes to her house after fighting with some dudes. All he wants is sex but she takes care of his wounds. and it ends with a smut. by the way i love your work. 💞

🅆🄰🅁🄽🄸🄽🄶🅂: smut 18+, angst-ish, fluffy, fwb to lovers, cw; bl00d, gashes, and ouchies lol

🄰🅄🅃🄷🄾🅁’🅂 🄽🄾🅃🄴🅂: dude, this such a good concept i literally could not wait to write this omggggg please enjoy babes ps i know nothing medical but i did take a year long course in high school retaining to sports medicine so i think i did ok? Idk lmao

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You were in the middle of watching whatever sitcom was being aired, at this point there’s too many to keep track, when loud and hard knocks boomed through the quiet apartment. You set your snack down and walked to the door wondering who could possibly be a guest in the dead night.

“Buck?”  you answered the door to see the gorgeous man clutching his side.

“Did you get my text?” he asked quickly.

“No, I’m sorry I- uh I didn’t-”

“Doesn’t matter,” he barged through your door.

“Is everything alrig-” Bucky interrupted you mid sentence grabbing your throat and pulling you into a deep and messy kiss.

“God, I need you so fucking bad,” he mumbled against your lips; of you which you gladly leaned into to give him what he needed.

You slipped your hands around his waist when he suddenly flinched and breathed in harshly through his gritted teeth. You took his hand away from your throat and assessed his state clearly understanding he was in no shape to have sex; at least not now.

“What happened?” you asked worriedly.

“Nothing, I just need you,” he tried to lean in again but you dodged his kiss moving under his arm to grab a first aid.

“Y/n, I don’t need whatever it is you're getting. Super soldier, remember?” he chuckled breathlessly

“Oh, I remember, Sargent. Which is why…” you emerged from the bathroom with first aid and a bottle of alcohol and peroxide in hand, “the sooner we patch you up, the faster you’ll heal.”

“Ok, doctor,” he said sarcastically.

“Excuse me, don’t mock my title,” you grinned.

“Not only can I assist you in need sexual frustration or as you call it, your personal fuck buddy, but I help you out when you come me to looking like the goddamn crypt keeper covered in blood,” you smiled sarcasically, which made Bucky chuckle.

“Now take your shirt off, let me assess the damage.”

When he did there was a huge gash spilling blood on the side of his ribs. Bruise and cuts litter his stomach and chest, even his arms. You gasped and your heart ached for him and even though he wasn’t in immense pain because of the serum, the fact that this is what it took for him to be in any pain scared you.

“Did you really think you could get away with fucking me in this condition?” you asked; you were upset.

“I didn’t want to worry you. Besides it doesn’t hurt anymore and I’m gonna stop bleeding,” he brushed off.

“Fuck you, Bucky. Didn’t want to worry me my ass. And if you stained every surface in my apartment?”

“I’ll buy you a new apartment,” he smiled, his beautiful stunning smile, shit.

“Fuck off,” you said making him chuckle.

You swiped the blood away gently with a towel soaked in peroxide. You applied a bit of triple antibiotic ointment on his smaller cuts even though it was unlikely they’d become infected but you took precaution nonetheless.

Bucky watched you with soft eyes. He thought about when you said the he called you his ‘personal fuck buddy’. It didn’t sit right with him anymore. His face held a somber look and you looked up at him concerned.

“Are you ok?” you said softly.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

You took an emergency stitching kit and although everything comes pre sterilized you poured the alcohol over the curved needle and threaded it through the bruised skin. Bucky tensed under your cold hands and flinched at the first stitch. Your head instantly shot up to make sure he was alright.

“I’m ok, angel,” he reassured.

You continued to stitch his wound expertly and yet again he flinched ever so slightly but you caught immediately apologizing.

“Doll, it’s ok. It’s like a little pinch, relax.”

“I’m sorry; I don’t usually have to do this to people I care about,” you said smoothly as if it was something you always said; you care about him.

“Well, don’t worry too much about me, darling,” he smirked.

“Hey, I have every right to worry about the man I fool around with,” you said playfully.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Bucky laughed. You finished stitching his wound and cleaning any areas to prevent infections and grabbed a cloth bandage to place over it in case it bleeds again.

“There. Do you need anything else? Water? Food; are you hungry?” you stood up.

“Not for food,” he said lowly, making your stomach flip.

“You’re still horny?” you played off the butterflies.

“Only for you darling, you’re addictive,” he moved his hands under your large shirt easily.

“No, you're insatiable,” you threw back.

“Yet you feed my desperate appetite.”

“Shall I stop then?”

“If you had the willpower, you would’ve by now. Maybe you’re just as addicted as I am,” he leaned in.

“Maybe I am,” you whispered.

“Well? Are you gonna stop me?” he teased.

“Of course not.”

Bucky crashed his lips against yours hungrily and you melted against his body perfectly. His hands squeezed your sides gently making you smile and Bucky picked you up and carried you to the bedroom; a place he knew like the back of his hand, so many nights spent with you that he cherished more than he’d like to admit.

When he got to the bedroom you released your feet down to the floor and Bucky helped you land gracefully. You grabbed his hand and led to sit comfortably on your bed. You kissed him passionately and soon after slowly kneeled to the ground in front of him. Bucky’s lust-blown eyes hungrily drank you in as you sank to the floor.

“You don't have to-”

“Uh-uh, you need to relax and let me take care of you, baby,” you rubbed his thighs slowly making Bucky squirm under you.

You pulled his pants down his legs and pressed light kisses to his thighs before grabbing his hard cock in your hand. You pumped up and down in your hand and Bucky’s head fell back and he sighed pleasurably

You licked the underside of his cock and Bucky moaned; he was already turning into putty in your hands and you barely touched him. You circled your tongue around the swollen tip before placing the head inside your mouth. You tried your best to breathe steadily through your nose as you sucked hard, hollowing your cheeks around his dick.

“Fuck, Y/n,” Bucky threaded his hand thorugh your hair and pulled you further down on his length.

Your hand pumped for what you couldn’t take in your mouth and you moaned around his cock. The vibrations from your throat made Bucky climax and spurts of hot ribbons of cum shot down your throat. You pulled away from him and Bucky’s legs trembled subtly. Cum dripped down the side of your chin and you swiped it into your mouth and sucked on your fingers seductively staring into his eyes making Bucky groan lowly.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby,” he pulled close and kissed you sildly he could taste himself on your tongue and he instantly became hard again.

You practically tore your shirt and pants off, pouncing on Bucky playfully. He laughed before kissing you again and flipping you delicately onto your back. He kissed your neck and collarbones gingerly, his hands roaming around your naked body.

His thigh pressed between yours and he could feel the wetness from your core spreading across his skin. Your fingertips grazed his sides as you sighed from his soft lips against your burning skin. Bucky’s hands fell between your bodies and pumped his cock a couple times before lining up with your slick entrance.

His tip flicked your sensitive clit ever so subtly and just that alone made your entire body jerk. You could feel the puffs of air escape Bucky in the crook of your neck as he chuckled.

“Bucky, please,” you whimpered.

“Please what, baby? What do you want; tell me,” he whispered against your ear.

“Fuck me, please. Bucky, I need you,” your nails clawed at his skin on his back and Bucky hissed immediately pushing into you passed your folds.

His thrusts weren’t exactly soft but they weren’t quick. It was the perfect tempo, rutting into you roughly and slowly. His hips snapping against yours harshly surely to leave bruises to commemorate his time spent with you.

You moans were loud against Bucky’s ear but he loved every second of it. He loved hearing you fall apart under him; so much he perked his head up and watched your beautiful features contort in pleasure caused by him and only him. Your body moving against his like a ragdoll as he had his way with you just like you always let him.

Your legs wrapped around Bucky’s torso pulling closer to you. He started hitting a new angle of which made your eyes roll back and your back arched. His grunts mixed with your high pitched moans and echoed throughout the entire apartment.

Bucky cupped your face softly with his metal hand and traced your lips as he continued to thrust into you. His thumb passed your lips into your mouth and your eyes flashed a sparkle of mischievous as you began to suck on his thumb. Your tongue circled his thumb as you had done to his dick not so long ago and Bucky groaned at the erotic sight.

You released his metal thumb with an exasperated pop and Bucky crashed his lips down to you. The bed under you two shook and hit the wall; surely to annoy the hell out of any neighbors home in the late hours, which was more than likely.

“Fuck, Bucky! I’m gonna cum!” you whimpered.

“Cum baby. I’m right behind you, doll,” he pressed his forehead against yours looking into your eyes intimately.

Your entire body shook against his. You saw stars in your eyes, your toes curled, your back arched; you felt euphoric. When you came down from your high you opened your eyes and found those special blue eyes, the ones you simultaneously sought comfort and desire in.

Bucky looked down on you with a small smile before leaning down again to kiss you faintly before cleaning the both you up generously. He went to gather his clothes and for a moment you reminded yourself that he wasn’t yours, he didn’t live here, he had to go now; just like always.

“Bucky, will you be alright?” you asked gingerly.

“Um,” he looked down at his gash that no longer held those badnages you carefully placed and simply revealed his already scarring flesh that you expertly stitched up; you were a doctor after all.

“I should probably stay, you know in case I need your help,” he said shyly; it was suggestive because you and him both knew that he wasn’t going to need help, he was going to be in perfect condition again by morning but neither of you could say goodbye to each other.

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” you said timidly.

Bucky smiled softly and crawled back into bed with you. He pulled your warm naked body against his and you practically melted into his side. You fit like a perfect puzzle piece. His hand caressed your side bringing goosebumps to skin and you chuckled when Bucky realized what he did.

“Stop, that tickles,” you said muffled as your head was buried shyly into the crook of Bucky’s neck.

“What?” he feigned innocence.

“Fuck off,” you both laughed breathlessly.

There was a moment of silence that rested between you two. What you had was quite domestic but you weren’t in a relationship. Without the other knowing, you both thought about what life could be like for the two of you if you did say the words.

“Y/n,” he whispered.

“Hm?”

“Can I tell you something?” he whispered, you instantly knew what he was going to say; you felt it.

“I love you, too,” you whispered.

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” you cupped his face, “I do.”

Bucky kissed you and gently rubbed his nose against yours before asking, “Can you say it again?”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you so much,” you curled your fingers in his tangled hair.

“Oh god, please, again,” he practically moaned.

“I love you. I love you. I love you, Bucky.”

You leaned back to look at him and noticed tears brimming his eyes; you gently wiped them away kissing his cheeks. This feeling was entirely new to him. He felt overwhelmed a bit but he loved you so much it was all he could think about right now. He didn’t exactly know when he really fell in love but it didn’t matter because here you were in his arms, actually his, and he wasn’t gonna let you go. Not a million years.

“I love you.”

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TAGLIST:

@mathletemadison​

[moonsstarss]

Euphemia Potter and Sirius Black

The first time Sirius went to James’ house, was in the second break from their first year. James was going home to his family and he had asked him mom if his new beste mate could come with him to join them for Christmas.

At first, Euphemia didn’t approve of it, having another 11 year old in their house while she wanted to celebrate Christmas with her small family. But after having heard James talk about how the boy had a bad home situation, she said yes to James’ idea.

Euphemia and Fleamont were carefull with the black haired boy. They knew he was vulnerable, (even tho Sirius claimed he wasn’t) They were carefull because he do, in fact, was a Black. But after having him at theirs for one night, they realized he really wasn’t like a Black, not at all.

Sirius was polite, he smiled and talked a lot. He was nice to both Euphemia and Fleamont and he cared a lot about their son.

The first moment Euphemia realised how bad Sirius needed a real mom, was when she walked in on the boy having a nightmare one night.

Sirius was breathing heavily. Whimpering and silcent tears walking down his small face.

Euphemia softly touched Sirius’ cheek as Sirius flinched awake. He sat up fastly, gasping for air and breathing fast.

“Shhhh, its alright sweetheart.”

Euphemia hugged the boy close, ignoring the flinches and his shaking body. Just talking softly to him, telling him it was alright.

“Everything will be alright, shhh, it’s okay.”

Sirius had stopped crying, feeling safe here.

The second time Sirius was at James’ home, was when he was around 16.

He had had an awfully huge fight with his mother and father. Being beaten up and his body still shaking from the curses.

When he made the Potters he collapsed on the grass of their garden. Feeling the blood drip from his body and every bone felt broken.

He was gasping for air heavily, trying to breath but not getting any air. He saw everything going black, letting out a last frustrated cry.

When he woke up he saw Euphemia bending over him, looking worried, sad and angry.

Sirius let out another cry, trying to say he was sorry but not getting everything out of his mouth.

“Its okay hun, I’ve already told James and Fleamont. We’re all mad at the Blacks and we’re letting you stay here for as long as we can, we’ll find a solution.”

Sirius’ eyes changed from scared till peacefull.

He was home.

Sirius’ his body still hurted a bit but he was doing better and better. The Potters had taken him in, he didn’t think he’s deserve it but they hadn’t listened to that and had said it should’ve always been this way. He was one of theirs.

Sirius heard a knock on his door.

“Sweetheart, James is getting the food at the store with dad, can you help me with preparing the dessert?”

Sirius knew this was honestly just a moment for Euphemia to be with him. She had been trying to be as much with Sirius as possible. Let the boy show he was safe, and theirs. Sirius didn’t mind.

“Coming!”

As Sirius walked downstairs he saw Euphemia was already melting some chocolate. She gave him a sweat smile as he smiled back, rolling up his sleeves and putting his hair in a loose bun.

“You can call me mom you know, I’ve told you thousand times, you never say it.” Euphemia smiled.

Sirius shrugged.

After half an hour Fleamont and James came back as Fleamont spoke.

“... so as I talked to Mia she asked about what you were doing and I told her you were with our other son and-“

Sirius interrupted.

“Uhm, Flea- no wait. Uhhh. Okay listen... I really appreciate you guys calling me your son and all but I’m still a Black and you have James and I’m not your son as much as I’d love to be..”

James, Fleamont and Euphemia looked at the boy.

The short boy with the black hair till his shoulders. The boy who tried to hide his feeling even tho he was falling apart. The boy who always got a bright blush when James called him his brother.

James smiled. “It’s alright bro, you are my bother honestly you’re not going to change that.”

Fleamont nodded as Euphemia gave him a hug.

Sirius hugged back, closing his eyes knowing he didn’t want I any other way, really.

The third time Sirius was at the Potters was when he stood at their door, well Euphemia’s door.

Fleamont had died from Dragon Pox, and James... He was hiding, hiding with the love of his life. Lily and James were safe, together with Harry.

Sirius used to be the secret keeper of James and Lily, but he had changed with Peter last moment.

Sirius hAd to tell someone, anyone who listened really. He couldn’t tell his friends tho... There was a spy in the middle of them and Sirius didn’t know who it was. It could be anyone. He had to tell someone who would definitely not tell anyone else.

Euphemia had be the first person Sirius thought of.

She was James’ mom and would never ever betray him.

Euphemia opened the door, pointing her wand at Sirius.

“What did Sirius say to me the first time he met me?”

Sirius smirked, it had been truly hilarious.

“Hello miss Potter, I’m James’ new friend and I would like to inform that James once peed his pants while brushing his teeth walking on his hands.”

Euphemia laughed, letting her boy in.

“What’s wrong honny?”

“Well...”

After having talked to her for hours, Sirius finally felt a little lighter. Sirius had felt weird but he whole situation and didn’t really know what to do.

“So Peter is the secret keeper?”

Sirius nodded.

“Merlin I made a mistake didn’t I.”

Sirius talked silently, his head in his hands, shaking furiously.

Euphemia pulled him in a hug.

“You did nothing wrong, and it’s gonna be alright.”

Sirius nodded.

Two weeks later everything went wrong.

Sirius had sent Remus to Euphemia after having heard nothing of Peter.

He was going behind him, making sure everything went alright.

Sirius arrived at Godrics Hollow, his stomach hurting from the nerves and his wand ready. As he walked around the corner he began to run, seeing the house of James and Lily.

He only began to slow down when he saw no lights shining. The house wasn’t a house anymore. Only ruins were left.

Sirius began to feel hopeless.

“N-no! JAMES!”

He ran towards the house, not bothering to look around for anyone watching.

“JAAAMES!!! LILYYYY!!!”

He ran inside as the first thing he saw was his best mate lying on the stairs, motionless.

“N-no... No please no- James.”

Tears streamed down Sirius’ face as he felt his stomach drop.

He fell over his best friend hugging his bother close.

He only realised he still had to be strong when he heard a soft sound coming from upstairs.

“L-LILY?!”

Sirius ran upstairs, a second heartbreaking sight crashing over him.

Lily lying in the ground.

“Fuck-“

Another wave of tears hit him as Sirius realised the two most important people were dead.

Sirius heard a cry. Harry.

Harry was still sitting in his little bed.

Sirius took him out as fast as he could. Hugging Harry as close as he could.

“S-shhhh, it’ll b-be alright P-prongslet.”

He heard a loud sound as Sirius drew his wand. Tears still streaming over his face, holding Harry tightly with his other arm, protecting him at all cost.

It only took a few seconds when Sirius saw Hagrid. The giant had a sad look on his face as he looked at Sirius, who began shaking his head, crying harder, stepping back.

“N-no no no, please no, not Harry.”

Hagrid looked at Sirius with sad eyes.

“I’m sorry, Dumbledore’s order. Said I should get baby Harry to take him to his aunt ‘n uncle.”

Sirius shaked his head, disbelief showing in his eyes.

“No but, but he’s everything I have- please...”

Hagrid stepped closer as he pointed his umbrella at Sirius.

“I don’t wanna do this.”

Sirius kept Harry close to his chest. Thinking about Remus and Euphemia.

He gave Harry a small kiss to his head.

“T-take care of him.”

Hagrid took Harry as he walked away.

Sirius stood there, a numb feeling in his chest, breathing heavily, tears still streaming down his face. Hagrid had taken his motorbike.

Sirius slowly walked out of the house, seeing dementors everywhere. His eyes grew as he started running, the dementors on his heels.

Sirius heard someone scream, “THERE HE IS! ITS BLACK!”

Lights fired beside him as Sirius casted a protection charm.

After what felt like hours of fighting Sirius proceeded to arrive at Euphemia’s, hoping she and Remus weren’t also dead.

“EUPHEMIA! OPEN THE DOOR PLEASEE...”

Sirius fell against the door. Just when he thought he wouldn’t take it anymore, the door opened.

Euphemia opened it, her eyes full of concern.

“Oh sweathear-“

“They’re dead... Pettigrew killed them and they’re after m-me. I DIDNT DO ANYTHING... Please...”

Remus walked up behind the two of them as Euphemia was holding Sirius close.

A group of people of the minestry came running towards them, they heard them scream in the distance.

“WHAT DO I DO.”

Sirius was screaming hopeless, everything falling apart and not knowing what to do.

“Keep him safe, p-please keep Remus safe, and make sure y-you’ll get to take care of Harry, he’s alive, t-they’re taking him to Petunia and Vernon. I love you and thank you for everything.”

“No Sirius-“

The people of the minestry got close, Sirius felt a hand grab his clothes.

He screamed, seeing Remus run into the house.

He felt a hand hit him as Sirius hit and knocked everything he could hit.

Screaming and crying.

“Let him go he didn’t do anything!”

Euphemia was screaming against the people, trying to get her son back.

“MOMM! I DIDNT DO ANYTHING PLEASE MOM HELP ME!”

Sirius stopped fighting back as saw even his Euphemia looked hopeless.

She stepped forward slamming the door behind her so Remus was safe.

“GIVE HIM A TRIAL! HES THE ONLY THING IVE GOT LEFT AND YOU WONT TAKE MY OTHER SON FROM ME! I WONT ADMIT BOTH OF MY SONS LEAVING IN ONE NIGHT, BESIDES, HES INNOCENT.”

The people of the minestry of magic stopped hurting Sirius as they loosened the grip, not letting go yet.

After what felt like hours Sirius was sitting in the middle of a large room. People of the hearing looking at him. He felt so small.

His body was hurting and he felt the bruise they aurors hit grow.

The Veritaserum he has gotten at the beginning of the hearing started to impact him and he felt like something was taking over what he was saying.

The minister was about to talk when he cought Euphemia’s eye, his mom smiled at him. Sirius have her a faint smile back.

“Tonight we gather around for the trial of Sirius Orion Black. Mister Black,” Sirius flinched as he heard the name. He hadn’t been called so since he was 16.

“Is it true that you were James and Lily Potters secret keeper?”

“Partly.”

“Partly?” The minister looked confused and mad.

“I was in the beginning, but we changed the secret keeper.”

“Ehhhjj- Okay who is the secret keeper now then mister Black?”

Again Sirius flinched.

“Peter Pettigrew.”

The whole hall was looking at Sirius.

After a short silence the minister spoke again.

“And we’re is, Peter Pettigrew?”

“I- I don’t know.”

“We found the finger of Pettigrew. It was the only thing left from him, you blew him up.”

“No, Pettigrew is an animagus, he transformed into a rat and ran away.”

“Why would Pettigrew be an animagus?”

“Be.... Because our friend Remus Lupin is a werewolf and because Pettigrew James Potter and I became animagus for him... It’s easier for animals to be with werewolfs...”

Sirius looked down, knowing Remus would be so mad... He looked at Euphemia, she gave him a comforting smile.

“Find Peter Pettigrew!”

Euphemia took Sirius home, his case had been dismissed, they were going to keep an eye on him untill they found Pettigrew but he was allowed to go home.

Sirius was crying softly, cuddled up by his mom in her car. Not able to wait to go home. To see Remus. He was exhausted.

Euphemia opened the door as Sirius ran inside.

Remus stood up instantly, running toward Sirius.

Sirius threw himself on Remus, tears and limbs everywhere. Remus let out a harsh laugh, keeping Sirius close as he cried as well.

Sunlight was slowly rising trough the windows. A new day had started.

Euphemia looked at Sirius, smiling softly as she wiped away a tear.

Her boy would be okay.

[sweetestlamb]

Breakaway

Summary: Gang-Tae stops running from Mun-Yeong and finally runs away with her. Feelings are felt. Firsts are had. 

Author’s note: So, episode ripped my heart out, stepped on it with Mun-Yeong’s heels, backed up on with her car and then trampled it like the flowers Gang-Tae gave her . This is my escape from that reality and more possible heart crushing events tomorrow. I changed some events around, added some, just let my mind run wild. No smut this time (finally), Gang-Tae is so innocent and I couldn’t let her ravish him before their first kiss lol 

Just a heads up, Mun-Yeong will be pretty forceful in this and it might be triggering for some people, the shows always casts her advances as funny because we know Gang-Tae wants her too. But consent is always important for both parties, I don’t take that lightly. I am just trying to stay true to the characters we are shown. 

He has never punched anyone before. Not because he didn’t want to, he has wanted to hurt many others before. Viciously. To keep punching until they were a pulp on the ground. Bullies growing up, arrogant men who weigh their child’s worth on a scale, ignorant people who see a weak person and want to break them down. He has wanted to hurt others before, has felt the anger pulse through him and clot his blood, and then exhaled it all out watching it leave his body like a cold breath in the dead of winter. 

So why? Why couldn’t he abate his anger now. 

Watching her fall to the ground, shattered every wall and glass container he had surrounding his emotions. It is said when people lose themselves to anger, they see red. He hadn’t seen anything. Couldn’t hear, speak, breathe, suppress. The only thing he could do was hurt. Hurt him like he had hurt her. She was hardly a damsel and he was certainly no prince, but he wanted to protect her. Maybe could pass for a knight. His knuckles tingled remembering the sensation of the bones as they connected in the brutal collision. God, what have I done? 

“Where do you want to go? Europe is always good for travel. Or we could go somewhere warmer, Serengeti?” Mun-Yeong voice breaks the silence, brimming with as much excitement as he has ever heard from her. 

He smiles at the idea. Serengeti. There would be so many animals. Leave it to her to choose a location that others would shy from in fear. 

“I don’t have a passport.” He replies, mild shame in his tone. He told her before he has never traveled before, the constant moving doesn’t count because those aren’t pleasurable, just necessary for survival. He has never been somewhere because he wanted to go, much less gone somewhere with someone he...cares for. He turns to look at her profile, spellbound as she replies. Her skin is blemish-free, pristine and soft- her injured cheek had been hot to the touch, but he couldn’t ignore how creamy it felt under his palm. He could touch her for a million years and never grow weary.  What was it about her that called out to every cell in his body? 

“Then where can we go?” She responds impatient as always, glancing over at him with heated eyes as if daring him. Her lips push out in a slight pout and he watches them avidly. Hungrily. Terrified. 

“Let’s go to the mountains and the field.” He replies, hands trembling because without his leash he doesn’t know how to act. It feels like a piece of him has been melted away. His body an open wound. 

She turns and smiles at him, his heart flutters at the sweetness of it. 

The air is crisp, he feels all the moisture evaporate from his mouth and instinctively his tongue laps out to swipe across his parched lips.  His step onto the bridge, making his heart beat quicken in both trepidation and exuberance, all his worries fall through the cracks in the bridge and he feels weightless. His second step brings a smile to his face and looks over to see Mun-Yeong, only she’s not beside him. 

He turns around and sees an emotion on her face he has never seen before. 

“Let’s go.” He encourages her with a blinding smile. 

“No.” Her entire body shakes in refusal as well and he tilts his head curiously, “Why not?” He can’t think of any reason she wouldn’t want to do this. She is fearless. 

“I’m scared.” Breathless laughter bursts from his chest at the ridiculous idea. This is the same Mun-Yeong who approached a man intending to take his life and that of his daughter, he still has a souvenir from that day. He glances fondly down at the scar on his hand. Jae-Su’s disapproving face momentarily flashes in his mind, furthering his laugh. 

“Why are you laughing? It’s not funny!” Mun-Yeong berates him, stomping with her more practical shoes which he still thinks are too fancy but they were the best he could convince to wear. Her armor. 

“I can’t do this with Sang-Tae so I wanted to do it with you. “ He cuts his laughter with he realizes the slight shake in her petite body is not from the mountain air. 

He watches his words take an unexpected effect on her. Her dark eyes find his and he can’t look away, the fear in hers twists and turns, wrapping armor around itself. “Okay, I will do it with you.” She takes a shaky step onto the bridge, reaching for the railing with white-knuckled fists.

 He smiles fondly at her determination. Is she doing this for me? 

Then in true Mun-Yeong fashion she demands loudly, “Hey, carry me. Give me a piggyback ride!” He laughs again, turning around and quickening his speed. Happy at the chance to tease her for once.  He hears her protesting behind him only further fueling his joy, one foot in front of the other and soon he realizes he is steps away from the end. 

He stops. Her words echo in his mind, “Okay, I will do it with you.” It doesn’t feel right to do this without her beside him. He turns back and sees her slowly, still crossing despite her obvious fear. Then she starts to sing, “If I ever feel lonely..” and he runs back to get her. 

She doesn’t notice his presence until she almost walks into his chest. She looks up in surprise. “Why did you come back?” She asks genuinely confused, he isn’t the only one not used to others doing things for him. “I want to do it with you.”

He extends his hand for the second time that day. She hesitates again. Looking at him like he’s a dream that could vanish at any point. Then she grabs onto his hand, he winces at the strength of her hold. 

“Hey, don’t hold so tightly!”

“Shut up, if you let go I’ll kill you.” 

“Are you ready?” They are so close that their shoulders are brushing. Her warmth seeps into him. 

“Yes.” Subconsciously her head shakes no. He is reminded of all the times he has told her no when his body was screaming yes. 

She takes the first step this time and they are off, she complains about the shakiness of the bridge and squeezes his hand in annoyance when he mentions the apt name of the bridge. He can’t help but smile has they cross at the bridge at a much more lethargic pace than his own dash. His strong, fearless Mun-Yeong undone by a bridge. 

No, not undone. Paused. Despite her apparent terror, she is doing it anyway because of him. When they reach the end, she turns to him and her triumphant smile is illuminating. Her red-stained lips are wide and inviting. He blushes recalling their almost kiss back at the castle. he can’t deny it, he wanted that kiss like it was air in his lungs. The way her eyes had widened in shock, made him falter for a second, before he pressed on, leaning down to join their hungry lips. Until the blood curdling sound of some unknown creature had broken the moment.

He ran away and she let him. 

“I did it.” Her breathless words reach his ears and he turns to look at her again, reaching his hand out settling it on her soft, dark head. With a barely there touch, he strokes her head before saying “You were so brave, you’re amazing.” 

She smile is supernova bright. 

No one has ever taken photos of him before and her requests throws him off kilter, he hasn’t felt his uncomfortable in his body in a long time. Not since he was young, growing into this body, with long limbs and muscles that he didn’t want because they attracted too much attention. He feels all that and more as she repeats sternly, “Smile. Don’t cry.” 

He can’t tell the difference. For so long, the emotions he would let others see weren’t the ones he was feeling. Now he is actually happy, happier than he imagined and his face doesn’t know how to show that. He starts to stand dismissing the needs for a picture, before she drags him back to the bench, “If you’re embarrassed I’ll do it with you.” Her smiling face is mirrored in the phone and he feels the restrain falling again, their heads tilt in, matching authentic smiles on their faces. 

“Make that your background.” She demands and he snatches his phone before she can do just that, he doesn’t know if he has enough control to see that picture everyday without asking her to run away with him for good. 

She giggles and walks ahead of him, looking over her shoulder and he is blown by her beauty. Even in her most comfortable clothes, she stands out. Despite her small stature, she seems to take up all the space in any room she’s in. He can barely take his eyes off her. 

“What are you looking at?” 

He doesn’t trust himself to answer that. 

“Are you still hungry?” 

Despite his refusal, they end up at guesthouse. Her eyes had been wild as she drove the car toward the edge of a cliff, this was the second time she had threatened him with a imminent death. He wonders what it says about him that his only response is a chuckle and head nod. Who is really the crazy one here? 

Stay the night with me or die here! Those were his only two options. 

She was so impulsive when she felt wronged. But.  He had asked her to run away with him, he had started all this and he didn’t want to stop it just yet. So he had called Sang-Tae and told him he would see him in the morning and to call him if he needed anything. 

Now, he sat drinking the juice provided by the keeper. It was delicious, he felt his cheeks heating up and vaguely wondered why that was happening? Mun-Yeong was on her third cup and swaying onto his shoulder. Her hair had slipped from the neat ponytail and brushed him every time she leaned ever too close. Each inhale came with the scent of her hair, a faintly floral scent filled his lungs. 

“Your hair smells nice.” He mused aloud, turning his head and placing his nose directly above her fragrant head. 

She moved closer and looped her arms through his, leaning closer and he watched as her face gradually moved closer, and closer, dangerously close to his face, so close that they were sharing a breath and he knew that he should move back but he felt frozen in place. Just like when he fell into the frozen river and she saved him. 

He watched her enticing lips with wavering eyes, stuck between watching her lips and watching her eyes, they were both singing the same siren’s song, as she finally reached her destination and- 

Booped their noses together in a perfect Eskimo kiss. 

“Your face is so red.” She teased bringing a hand up to palm his lust-stained cheeks and he fell off the table in his haste to escape her spell. 

Her giggles filled the the air as he sat flushed on the ground. 

He was drunk and he had no idea how. Was the juice the keeper gave them more than just juice? He glanced over at Mun-Yeong to see how it had affected her, if at all. Her face was flushed as well and she laying flat on her back, soft eyes looking at the ceiling. 

“Let’s have fun.” She suddenly said rolling to him and clinging to his arm even as he pushed her away, not sure if being drunk together was a good idea. When he found himself looking at her moving lips and not hearing anything she was saying, he knew it was a terrible idea. Had he hit his head? Why did he keep making these decisions? 

“- do you want to play?” She finished her question looking up at him from under her lashes, beckoning him to answer affirmatively. He almost did, without asking her what she had asked. He stopped himself knowing how dangerous the game they were playing was, his defenses were compromised by his current situation and she looked even bolder now, not needing any more courage- liquid or otherwise. Grabbing onto logic, he asked her to repeat her question. 

“Let’s play truth or dare?” 

“Why would you want to play that?” He was suspicious. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what kind of dares she would could come up with. He had to say no to stop them from crossing a line that they couldn’t come back from. 

She sat silently, letting go of his arm and wrapping her arms around herself and seeming to war with herself, a plethora of emotions swimming in those dark haunting eyes. She got up and suddenly started to leave their room, he instinctively reached out to catch her arm, stopping her. 

“Let go of me.”

“No, answer my question.”

He could see her feathers ruffling and she looked at him with passive eyes, before she quietly answered, “I have never had anyone to play with it before.” 

Her arm dropped out of his grasp and his eyes widen at her confession and a wave of sadness and anger washed over him, thinking of a young Mun-Yeong with no one to play with. Not one friend. He was eternally grateful for Jae-Su and he couldn't imagine his life without his one friend. How lonely it must have been to be feared all the time, to watch others build bonds and never have that for yourself. 

Okay. I will do it with you. 

Her word from earlier whisper  in his head and he pushed his own fear aside and did something just for her. 

“Okay, let’s play.” 

He instantly regrets it when he sees the salacious smile that spreads on her lips. He swallows nervously. 

“I dare you to-” She begins and he cuts her off, “You’re supposed to ask me truth or dare.” She looks at him with disdain, “No I don’t care about truths, let’s just do dares.” He rolls his eyes, knowing she probably figured out that he would simply pick truth every round. 

“No we have to do it right, since it’s your first time doing it.” He doesn’t know that those words take life in her head until she gives up way too easily and with an scarily innocent smile, she asks “Truth or dare.” 

“Truth.” 

“Have you ever slept with a woman?” 

Red blazes across his already drunk-stained cheeks and he looks away from her imploring eyes. The last time she asked him that he drenched a table and now he thinks he might pass out. He hopes he hits his head and puts himself out of his misery if he does. 

“If you don’t want to answer my question, then you can do a dare.” She smiles mischievously knowing she has corned him into a tight spot. 

He almost ends the game right then and there, why does she always trample on his comfort level like this? it’s not that he doesn’t have desires, god does he have them. He wants so much. All the time. But he can’t have anything, everything fades and they have to keep moving like the wind. 

Tentative steps on a shaky bridge. Deadly tight grip on the railing. Her triumph at the end of it all. 

With his last bit of bravery he opens his mouth and it takes a few tries to get the words out. His lips open and close mimicking that of a fish, before he finally shoves the word out through clenched teeth, “No.” 

Her responding smile is obscene, “I want it.” and he blinks in confusion before he follows the line of her eyes, squarely centered on his crotch. He backs up until his body meets the wall, bringing his legs up and wrapping his arms around them. 

“You look like a school girl protecting her chastity.” She laughs and crawls over to meet him, pressing his legs open, and he bolts to the other side of the room. She smirks and licks her lips, looking every much like the predator he knows she is. Before she can seductively crawl to meet him again, he screams out “Stop! It’s my turn.” And she pauses mid crawl, eyes and hair wild, looking like a wildcat that has spotted its next meal and he briefly thinks she brought the Serengeti to him. 

She sits back in a huff. A beautiful flush across her face.  He has no truth or dare in mind, her question and behavior after had thrown him off again. 

“Truth or dare?”

No hesitation, “Dare.” 

Of course. She’s fearless where it counts. She looks at him with curious eyes, fingers tapping impatiently. 

“I dare you to......not touch me all night.” 

“What?” If looks could kill, he would be six feet under. Maybe deeper. Despite them running away, he can’t have too. How will be go back after today if he becomes too greedy?

“Does it go both ways? You can’t touch me and I can’t touch you?” She looks....calculating but he nods in agreement. He has no plans to touch her tonight. He is too weak already. 

She smiles. Then stands up and walks out the door. Slamming it behind her, He jumps at the sound. He watches her leave and disappointment is thick on his tongue, he knows she’s upset. He doesn’t know how to give them both what they want and he feels like a failure. How can he touch her and stop himself from falling even deeper and wanting more? 

It doesn’t seem possible and his heart breaks a little. 

The sound of the door sliding open once more drags him back from his melancholy and he lifts his eyes up from the floor to see Mun-Yeong. 

A soaking wet Mun-Yeong. 

Dripping on the floor, her shirt is plastered to her lithe body, sticking to all the contours of her body. When his eyes shirt lower, her pants are missing. Her shirt stops mid-thigh, showing off an excess of her smooth skin. Droplets from her hair fall onto the ground, one drop makes a journey down her cheek, past her neck and disappearing into her shirt. 

“Ko Mun-Yeong!” He exclaims willing his body to turn around and stop looking at her drenched body. But his eyes flint all over, from her wet- puffy lips to her naked toes, stopping on her chest and he sees twins peaks peeking through the shirt and that makes him turn away finally. He feels all the blood in his body rush southward. 

“You said I couldn’t touch you all night. I needed to cool off, I’m horny. ” She responds and he can hear the shrug and challenge in her voice and he croaks out, “Okay I think that’s enough of this game.” 

Once again, she gives in easily. Not protesting at all. And he turns around, intending to dive under his blankets and pull them up to his face and hide from her tempting body. Instead she causes him to freeze again. She is unbuttoning her wet shirt and the room is dark but he can see enough, too much and he lunges at her to stop those nimble fingers. 

She tsks at him looking at him like a disapproving parent, “You aren’t allowed to touch me all night Gang-Tae. Remember it was your dare.” 

Fucking hell.  His fingers stop inches from her. 

She opens another button and he spins around once more. “Mun-Yeong please stop. The game is over.” He pleads. 

“Oh. Does that mean I can touch you again?” She counters. He can’t agree with that, she is undressing behind him if he allows her to touch him, it will be bad. 

She takes his silence as answer and her wet shirt lands on his shoulder. He jumps before throwing the shirt to side. He is buzzing when her bra lands next to it and then her panties. What if he gets a nosebleed and just chokes in his own blood?  ARRGGGGGGHHHHH. He screams like the creature that interrupted them internally, wishing the damn thing would show up and kick him to death. Put him out of his misery. 

“Mun-Yeong please put your clothes back on.” He is not ashamed to say he begs her, if he could he would get down on his knees too. 

On his knees within her milky thighs, her hand on his head, patting and prodding as she guided him to her- 

“I am comfortable naked I told you earlier.” She calmly responds before he hears movement and then the rustling of her sheets, does this mean she’s finally going to bed? 

He spares a small peek and catches a glimpse of her nude body before she slides under the sheets and his arousal hits him like a freight train. Beautiful. 

When he finally turns around, he sees what the movement was. She has moved their bedding closer together, impossibly close now. 

He can’t do this. Can’t be this near her naked body. Only a sheet separates them. 

He moves to leave the room and she stands with it and her sheets start to fall, he snatches them with superhuman speed wrapping them firmly around her warm body, pulling her flushed against his overexcited body. 

“You broke the rules.” He feels her start to reach for him and he swaddles her tighter, yanking their bodies to the floor and pinning her down. She lets out a puff of air and in a surprise move, goes for his lips and he turns his face in time that she lands on his cheek. 

“Please. Please. Just go to sleep.”

He stares her down, pulling the sheets around her tighter still and hating that he can fee her warmth even through them. There is only a sheet separating them. 

“Just go to sleep. Please” She stops squirming in his hold, finally. “Okay I will go to sleep. But I know you want this as badly as I do.” She proves her point by grinding up into his erection, and he jolts away, the pleasure too immense for his depraved body. 

He huddles, willing it to go away, please, please, please. 

He doesn’t know how much times goes by, before he can feel his excitement alleviate. Years of ignoring them as made him a pro at suppressing his desire. 

When he turns Mun-Yeong is fast asleep, sheet low on her body but covering everything thankfully. He takes his time to look at her, peaceful in her sleep. Someone who didn’t know her might even say she looked..innocent. But all her shenanigans tonight prove otherwise. She is a demon, sent here to make him sin. 

He sits up and looks down at her. So brave and bold.  He’s glad to escape her all-seeing eyes, too perceptive for her own good. She is right, he wants her. More than he has wanted anything. Surely, he can’t have her though, right? 

But, he’s so happy with her. She makes him so happy, even when she’s threatening to drive them off a cliff or using her body as a weapon of mass seduction. He likes her. And he tried everything not to. Why couldn’t she just give up like everyone else did?

I have so much fun with her. 

He thinks before he finally snuggles down, into a fitful sleeps. His eyes on Mun-Yeong and Mun-Yeong alone. 

Her smile when he hands her the flowers makes everything he has faced in life worth it. All worth it to have this moment with her. 

Holding her in the rain, tentative fingers drawing her close. 

Her fingers clutching to him as she cursed and thrashed away from him. 

Cupping her cheek and feeling the anger evaporate and worry take its place. 

Her feet trampling on the flowers he picked for her, all those years ago. 

Running to her. 

He leans forward, knowing now he has no control.

She appeared when he needed her. Isn’t that fate?  

Their lips meet, warm press of skin against skin. Almost innocent in nature, he needs to work up to more. 

“That was sweet.” She sounds genuine and she caresses his cheek before curling her hands around his neck and dragging him closer, he releases a puff of air but doesn’t resist. 

“Next time, I pick where we go and I’ll kiss you. I have a lot to teach you.”

He’s ready to learn. 

[glimmerglanger]

Quiet Evenings

Written for Day #5 of @codywanweek: Fluff. Established relationship, somewhere during the Clone Wars. I don’t usually do fluff but oooooh, went teeth-rotting on this one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know, General, I have a hard time believing Grievous came through here,” Cody said, drawing to a stop as they reached an… intersection in the strange recreation area they’d come upon.

Obi-Wan sighed, gazing out across the crowds. He wasn’t entirely sure of the function of the event they were attending. It appeared to be some kind of festival, perhaps for the harvest. Most of the residents of the local towns had come out to wander through hastily set up tents and booths.

People were selling sweet foods and alcoholic beverages. There were… games of chance and skill, here and there. And there were mechanical contraptions that Obi-Wan did not understand. They seemed designed to either go very quickly or fling people up into the air. 

The locals all seemed intent to ride them, though they looked like death traps to Obi-Wan and brought back memories of Anakin’s flying.

Still, none of these locals - of a very primitive sort - looked as though they’d just seen a monstrosity like General Grievous. He would have been… wildly out of place. “I think you’re right,” Obi-Wan said, feeling a headache build in the back of his skull. He’d been so sure they’d managed to track Grievous. Running into another dead end was--

“But look,” Cody said, and Obi-Wan had a moment of rising hope along with a surge of adrenaline. He waited for screams, looking for Grievous, and Cody continued, gesturing, “it’s some kind of shooting game.”

He gestured at one of the game stalls lining the road. A very tall, very purple man was gesturing people forward, attempting to convince someone to take up the little toy gun lying on the counter. There were an array of targets within the stall.

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow. “A shooting game,” he said, dry, and Cody looked over, straight-faced.

“We should take every opportunity to practice,” he said, mouth only just quirking, revealing the amusement Obi-Wan felt from him through the Force, that Obi-Wan had grown used to picking up through just his expressions, as they grew closer and closer.

“Oh, well, in that case,” Obi-Wan said, gesturing at the game stall, daring just a bit of flirting, since the threat of immediate danger seemed past. “You must sharper your skills. Grievous isn’t here anyway.”

The stall owner was happy enough to take a few credits, rattling off instructions as Cody looked over the weapon, making a few adjustments to it as he went. Obi-Wan scanned the crowd once more and then turned his attention to Cody, lifting the gun to sight down the barrel. He looked intent and calm, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help a smile, suddenly glad they hadn’t found Grievous.

It would be nice to just… spend five clicks watching Cody play this foolish game. They barely got any time just to themselves.

The stall owner was saying, “And don’t feel bad if you don’t hit anything on the first go, it’s very--” when Cody pulled the trigger for the first time. One of the targets tinged and fell over. The stall owner’s mouth fell open. Cody radiated pleased satisfaction, shifting his aim carefully, moving through targets with easy skill.

The last one he hit square on, but for a moment it only wobbled, snagging Obi-Wan’s attention. It was… weighted somehow. Oddly. Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at such blatant cheating, leaned a hip against the stall, and pushed out with the Force, just a little.

Cody made a little sound in the back of his throat, pleased, setting down his weapon, and Obi-Wan turned his face to the side to hide a smile. “Excellent job,” he said, nodding at the still gaping stall owner. “Do you think we should--”

“Excuse me,” the stall owner said, as they made to step away. Obi-Wan looked back, wondering if there was going to be a protest about his… slight usage of the Force. It appeared not. The shop keeper had only collected himself. He gestured up at the large stuffed toys hanging around his stall and said, “You get to pick whatever you want, for winning.”

“Oh?” Cody asked, looking from the stall owner to the toys to Obi-Wan, a question in his expression. Obi-Wan shrugged, and watched Cody take a step forward, leaning against the counter and looking over his options.

He settled, finally, on something that appeared to be a very large loth-cat. He tucked his prize under one arm and his emotions shifted, moving to something like joy and pleasure, emotions he got to experience so rarely that it brought Obi-Wan up short. He watched Cody glance around the fair, could almost feel the movement of his thoughts and the slow consideration when he glanced back and said, “You know, maybe we should look for Grievous a little more. Possible over by the food.”

Obi-Wan snorted, a grin curving the corners of his mouth. He gestured Cody forward, finding he did not mind the idea of spending more time wandering around, not with Cody at his side, and said, “By all means, lead the way.”

#

They ate fruit covered in some kind of hard candy coating. They had some type of spun sugar that looked like clouds and melted on the tongue. They shared a plate of some type of vegetable cut into strips and fried, so hot that it burned the tips of Obi-Wan’s fingers. 

Somewhere in their sojourn through the food stalls, Cody put a hand on Obi-Wan’s back. It was startling, for a moment. They were forced to maintain their distance so often. Obi-Wan sometimes thought there were two versions of each of them. The General and the Commander could not walk down the halls of the Negotiator so close to one another. Touching.

But Obi-Wan and Cody could touch. And did. It was simply that they usually kept it behind closed doors.

Still. Grievous was not at this fair. Obi-Wan doubted, truly, that he’d ever been on this world. There was no immediate danger. He was not acting in his role as General or even Jedi, he was just…

Just eating food so sweet that it dissolved on his tongue, leaning his weight back against Cody’s hand, just a little. Cody tugged him a little closer, in response, and said, leaning his mouth close to Obi-Wan’s ear, “Should we go see what’s down that way?”

Obi-Wan grinned, swallowed the last of the food and reaching up, folding his fingers into the front of Cody’s armor and tugging him forward. “In a moment,” he said, quietly, just for Cody, and pressed the briefest of kisses to his mouth.

The second kiss was nowhere near so brief, but, then, it didn’t seem that the fair was going anywhere.

#

There were more games down the way Cody suggested. They played a few, spending their credits as they saw fit. One involved some type of unbalanced rope ladder, stretched from the ground to the top of a nearby wall. 

Obi-Wan watched people attempt to scale it, striving to hit a bell at the top. All of them ended up tumbled down onto the mats below, many of them less than halfway to the summit. That was all fine, except that the gentleman running the stall seemed incapable of keeping his mouth shut, ribbing everyone who fell.

Obi-Wan drew to a stop in front of it, frowning, and Cody nudged his shoulder. “Well, show them,” he said.

Obi-Wan snorted and would have moved on, had not a child slipped and the proprietor laughed. Cody snorted at the look on Obi-Wan’s face and stepped forward, exchanging payment with the proprietor as Obi-Wan walked to the base of the ladder, shrugged, and put his hands behind his back.

Using the Force would be, he thought, cheating. So he didn’t. He didn’t need it. Decades of katas and lightsaber practice and fighting for his life had given him balance and strength to spare. He walked up the ladder, rang the bell with one foot, turned, and walked back down.

The proprietor stared at him the entire way. Obi-Wan smiled at him, selected the largest, shiniest prize on offer for the winners, and gave it to the child who had last fallen off of the ladder. She gazed up at him with four wide eyes, her mouth partially agape, and Obi-Wan winked.

“Very nicely done,” Cody said, curling an arm around him, leaning close enough to brush a kiss against his cheek.

“Yes, well,” Obi-Wan said, with a shrug that aimed to seem unconcerned. “Let’s go see what all the delighted screaming coming from over there is all about.”

#

The delighted screaming, as it turned out, was from some crude mechanical structures. People were in lines to board them, typically climbing into little carts or enclosures. They were then, alternatively, flung up into the air or hurled around a track at some measure of speed.

Cody looked up at them, raised an eyebrow, and said, “Want to try?”

“They certainly don’t look very structurally sound,” Obi-Wan said, thinking of far too many flights with Anakin that ended in spirals and loops. Maybe Anakin had actually designed some of these machines, though, if he had, Obi-Wan felt certain they’d look safer.

Anakin might not have been able to fly in a straight line, but at least he knew how to construct things. These machines all had a slapped together look. He swore some of the braces were wobbling. Cody glanced over and said, “We could just do one.”

Obi-Wan listened to a cart of screaming people go by, and shrugged. “What would one hurt?” he said.

They ended up riding every one of the machines down the path, ending up, somehow, on one shaped like a giant ring standing upright. They were in a cart all of their own, open to the stars and sky above, with only a metal bar over their laps to keep them from leaping out.

The ring turned slowly, lifting them into the sky, with none of the spinning or jerking or flinging of the other rides. They just… rose above the entirety of the strange festival, until they were able to look out and view all the places they’d been before.

The ring stopped for a long moment when they reached the top. Their cart swung gently back and forth. The night had grown cool around him, and Obi-Wan, feeling strangely at peace, the way he usually felt after meditating, leaned sideways against Cody, who made a small, pleased sound and took his hand.

“This was nice,” Obi-Wan said, leaning his head to the side, until it rested against Cody’s, looking out across the people, the games, the food stalls. It was hard to imagine such a place existing, with the war raging so close by, but these people - this place - seemed almost untouched. 

“Yes,” Cody said, turned to brush a kiss to Obi-Wan’s temple. He radiated contentment out into the Force, easy and open with it, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes. The breeze blew across them. The stars shown overhead. Cody’s fingers fitted so perfectly between his.

“We should come back here,” he said, quietly, not wanting to disturb the moment. “Someday. When… everything is done.”

“Mm,” Cody hummed, touching Obi-Wan’s cheek with his other hand, shifting and causing their little cart to wobble. Obi-Wan barely noticed, not with the soft slide of his mouth and the glow of Cody’s joy all around them.

They kissed there, under the stars. Obi-Wan barely noticed when the ring started turning again.

[breanime]

Vampire Boys: Another Vamp Threatens You

warning: violence...heh heh

Billy Russo: Billy is across the room, his hand on the other vamp’s throat, before you can even blink. He reaches into the vamp’s chest and tears his heart out, clenching it in his fist and watching as the vamp collapses to the ground, dead. Your mouth is open, and everyone in the room freezes. Billy turns, his face and posture casual. “Is there anyone else who has something to say about Y/N?” He asks calmly. Everyone shakes their heads. “Good,” he drops the crushed heart on the ground and steps on it as he walks back over to you, “Ready to go, darling?”

Logan Delos: His eyes darken, and everyone in the room tenses up. As soon as the other vampire sees the look on Logan’s face, he’s backtracking, saying he was joking, but Logan isn’t amused. You’ve never seen Logan like this, and he gets up and approaches the other guy slowly, you don’t know what he says, but the other vamp is apologizing as he scurries off, and as soon as the door closes behind him, Logan turns back to you, a grin on his face, and everything goes back to normal. 

Jax Teller: His fangs are out and he’s tackling the other vampire immediately. They’re moving too fast for you to really see what’s going on, but in a minute, Jax is the only one standing, and the other vamp is a bleeding mess on the ground. Jax is standing over him, and he grabs a chair, breaks it over his knee, and makes a stake out of one of the broken legs. “Jax!” You scream, but it’s too late. He impales the dude through the chest, and the other vamp screams his last scream. When Jax turns back to you, he’s grinning. “Yeah, babe?”

Coco Cruz: Coco goes full Loco Coco puff. He’s relentless, he tears the other vampire apart--literally. There are limbs everywhere. What’s worse, though, is that he doesn’t kill him. “I’ma let you heal,” Coco growls, “and once you’re fucking legs grow back, you’re gonna limp over here and apologize to her.” He then picks you up, plops you down on his lap, and waits for the guy to heal. While he waits, he presses little kisses on your throat, his dark eyes never leaving the other vamp’s twitching form on the ground. 

Angel Reyes: So the guy says something about how the next time you open your mouth, he’s gonna put his dick in it, so Angel reacts by ripping his dick off and shoving it down his throat. And as he’s choking on his own cock, Angel grabs his head and twists it around, just for fun. Then he stands over the guy, his foot on his chest, and demands someone bring him some melted silver. EZ brings him a ceramic bowl full of melted silver, and Angel pours it over the guys head... Coco and Angel roll him outside through the back door, and Angel puts his arms around your shoulder while you all stand there and listen to him burn. 

Miguel Galindo: Miguel reaches into the man’s chest and takes his heart out. He squeezes it, his dark eyes staring at the other vamp. “Let me explain to you what’s going to happen,” he says calmly, his hand covered in blood, “You’re going to be her servant from now until she gets tired of you. Everything she says to do, you’ll do...and if not,” he squeezes the heart, and the guy falls to his knees in pain, “I’m going to take a pen and puncture your putrid heart. We clear?” The vamp nods, bloody tears trailing down his face. Miguel pockets the heart, turning to you. “What;s your first command, mi amor?”

Nick Amaro: Nick moves quickly, he grabs the guy’s neck and thrusts his body outside of the door. It’s daytime, and Nick’s hand is sizzling as he holds the other vamp--who’s burning, his skin melting as he screams in pain and terror. “Nick! Don’t!” You cry, grabbing his waist and trying to pull him back in. Your voice calms him, so Nick relents, stepping back and letting the guy back in the room. Nick ignores the gasping, smoking body on the ground, and pulls you to his chest in a gripping hug. You immediately present your neck to him so he can take a drink and heal up, the other vampire completely forgotten. 

Johnny Tuturro: Johnny’s a vampire, but he beats the other guy down human style--brutal punches, a few kicks to the stomach--until the dude is on his hands and knees, gasping in pain. Johnny’s fangs are out, and he makes it clear to everyone around that you are OFF limits. “You come near her again,” he promises, “I will put a stake through your heart before you can even blink.” He grabs your hand and leads you out, and you can hear the others’ shocked gasps as they realize that he left through the front door, walking into the sun with no consequence, and you know they know that Johnny Tuturro ain’t nothin to play with. 

Rio: Rio decapitates the guy, kicking his body across the room as he holds his dislocated head in his hand. “You wanna say that again, to my face?” He asks lazily. But you can tell Rio is pissed because his fangs are out. You wonder, for a second, what he’s going to do next, and you watched, wide eyed, as Rio opens the door, not even hissing as the faint sunlight hits his skin, and kicks the head out into the day like it was a wayward soccer ball. He shuts the door, his skin already healing, and watches as the headless body writhes on the floor. He brushes the blood off of his shirt and walks over to you. “Wanna take bets on how long it takes him to die, Mama?” 

*******************************************************************************************

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[classysassy9791]

Sometimes its the quieter moments that speak the loudest. A story of love, laughter, and friendship carried through the years during the most wonderful season of all. Full of fluff and Christmas cheer. Interconnecting One-shots.

Fandom: Inuyasha  Genre: Romance/Friendship Pairings: InuKag, MirSan, SessKagu Ch. 1 l

Chapter 2: Jingle Bell Rock Word Count: 1900 Can also be found here

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Kagome’s agate eyes glanced up as she craned her neck to gaze upon the magnificent Christmas tree Sango’s family had in their living room. It was certainly tall (it must have taken at least six men to lug it back to the house) and embellished with maroon and silver garland, twinkling every now and then from the white lights. Beautiful ornaments hung from the branches, each swaying gently and shimmering under the dimmed lights.

Presents were crowded beneath the tree, wrapped in red, silver, or green, varying in size, with large ribbons on top. Name tags hung off them, written with love and adoration. Kagome smiled, noticing her name on a few of them. Although presents were nice, they were not her favorite part of the holiday.

No, her favorite part was much simpler. She loved that the season was one of utter bliss. Warmth and kindness permeated and the excited smiles of children warmed the frosty air. The season always ignited her senses, and sparked youthfulness in even the elderly. The magic of the season brought people together from corners of the globe. Christmas was not only a time for excitement, but also one for serenity. Christmas was like the last crackling embers of a fire as the year drew to a close.

“Hey,” Inuyasha greeted, coming to stand beside her.

Kagome smiled, not taking her eyes off the Christmas tree, and sighed deeply. “I love Christmas.”

“Keh,” he scoffed with an eye roll. “You’re like Mother Christmas over here.”

She narrowed her eyes and threw him a playful glare. “Is that such a bad thing?”

He shrugged. “Suppose not.”

“Hey you two!” Sango called, meeting up with them in the middle of the living room. She handed Kagome a cup of hot chocolate, complete with the little marshmallows. “How’s it going?”

Inuyasha frowned. “Where’s my cup of cocoa?”

“You don’t like the marshmallows,” Sango pointed out. “You don’t deserve any.”

Kagome giggled, curling her hands around the warm mug and breathing in the chocolaty scent. “The marshmallows are the best part.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Inuyasha grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “So you’ve said.”

“Love the sweater, Inuyasha,” Miroku chuckled, entering the living room and taking a seat on the arm rest of the sofa. “It really brings out your, er, eyes?”

Inuyasha scowled and glowered at his friend. “Do you want to die today, Miroku?” he snarled sharply, clenching his hand into a fist to prove his point.

Miroku held up his hands defensively. “I’m just saying, you should dress like this more often. I’m sure the ladies would love it.”

Sango smirked, eyeing the red and green sweater that currently adorned Inuyasha, complete with balls of cotton and all. “Tell me again why you’re wearing it exactly?” she questioned, trying to stifle a laugh.

Heated amber eyes turned in her direction. “My mother made it for me. Got a problem with that?”

“Not at all,” Kagome soothed, placing a hand on his arm. “I think it’s very sweet of your mother to make you a gift. And it looks great on you.”

She was being genuine, but Miroku couldn’t take it, and practically fell off the couch laughing so hard. Sango quickly hit him upside the head before Inuyasha had the chance. “Give it a rest,” she ordered, shaking her head before finishing off her cup of cocoa.

Just then, their families entered the living room, everyone full from Christmas dinner. Sango’s mother smiled as she placed a lit candle upon the fireplace, allowing the aroma of fresh pine to fill their senses. Allured by the scent of freshly baked Christmas cookies, Kagome turned to see her brother enter with a tray of baked goods, fresh out of the oven thanks to their mother.

Sango’s father cleared his throat, taking his place by the warmth of the grand fireplace. He patiently waited for everyone to find their place, before raising his glass of champagne in a toast.

“Christmas is a good time; a kind, forgiving, generous, pleasant time; a time in which men and women open their hearts freely to strangers. I am thankful to see all of my dear friends this evening, and that no matter how much distance the years bring us, we are still able to come together on this one holiday. Here’s wishing you all more happiness than my words can tell, not just alone for Christmas, but for the rest of the year as well. God bless us.”

Shouts of “God Bless” rang through the room as everyone raised their glass of champagne, eggnog, or hot cocoa in a toast to friendship and family. Then suddenly music filled the space and dancing commenced.

Kagome watched with a smile as Sango’s parents began to waltz across the living room floor. They were quickly followed by her own mother led by young Souta, and the Taisho’s. Inuyasha’s mother was pale and sickly, much thinner than she should have been. But her eyes still sparkled and a soft smile caressed her lips. Mr. Taisho grasped her hand tenderly and slowly stepped across the living room floor.

“Come on, Inuyasha,” Kagome prodded, taking his hand and giving it an insistent pull. “Dance with me.”

He scoffed and stood his ground. “Not on your life,” he grumbled. “I wouldn’t be caught dead doin’ that.”

Her lips pulled into a pout as her eyes turned pleading. “Why not?” she whined, hoping to convince him.

“Inuyasha doesn’t know how to dance,” Miroku said matter-of-factly, appearing beside Kagome. “Shall we?” He bowed low at the waist and held out his hand for her to take.

She grinned at his gesture and curtsied as she laughed. “We shall.”

Inuyasha watched as Miroku pulled Kagome to the dance floor, spinning her under the sparkling lights of the Christmas tree. Kagome’s eyes shone brightly as she placed her hand in his; he placed his hand on her waist, and whisked her onto the dance floor. They turned and twirled as if they were professionals, with Miroku leading each precise step.

Kagome’s laughter echoed through the room. Inuyasha crossed his arms over his chest and leaned up against the wall, his amber eyes carefully watching his friends. “You know,” Sango said from beside him, sipping on her hot cocoa gingerly. “If you didn’t want Miroku to dance with her, you should’ve just taken her up on her offer.”

“As if,” Inuyasha grumbled, shrugging off her words. “What does it matter what Kagome does? I’m not her keeper.”

Sango gave him a pointed look. “Please, it’s obvious to everyone that the two of you are going to end up together some day.”

A heated blush crept into Inuyasha’s cheeks as he averted his gaze. “Keep dreamin’,” he scoffed. “Kagome and I are just friends. She’s like my sister.”

She rolled her eyes and giggled. “Whatever you say, Inuyasha.”

Grumbling incoherently, he pushed off the wall and stormed to the kitchen, hell bent on getting himself a cup of hot cocoa, without the little marshmallows. Sango was just seeing things. There was nothing going on between him and Kagome. Simple as that.

A couple hours later, the party had winded down as everyone bid their farewells and headed toward their homes. Sango stood at the doorway as Kagome shrugged on her jacket with Inuyasha waiting just outside for her.

“You get her home safe, Inuyasha,” Sango called with a silly grin. “You hear? Otherwise I’ll have your head.”

Inuyasha waved a hand over his head with acknowledgement before shoving them into the pockets of his jacket to keep warm. Kagome giggled as she wrapped her scarf around her neck. “We’ll be fine, Sango,” she assured. “I’m only a few houses down.”

She shrugged. “I know. I just like teasing him. I’ll see you later.”

Kagome reached in for a hug. “Merry Christmas, Sango.”

“Same to you,” she replied as they pulled away.

With a final wave, Kagome exited the house as Sango closed the door behind her. She jogged to catch up with Inuyasha, who was already a house away. “Wait up,” she hollered as she met up with him, shoving her mitten clad hands in her jacket. “What’s the rush?”

“No rush. You just take forever,” he barbed.

She frowned and furrowed her brows. “Maybe you should have more patience.”

“Keh, you just have too good of a time when it comes to these parties.”

“Oh?” she questioned incredulously. “And that’s a bad thing?”

He crossed his arms behind his head and shrugged. “Why didn’t you have Miroku walk you home? You seemed to be having a great time with him.”

Kagome paused in walking and gave him a wide-eyed look. “Inuyasha…” she began, trying to wrap her mind around his words. “Are you… Are you jealous?”

A blush dusted his cheeks. “Hell no. What would I have to be jealous for?”

She laughed as she skipped up beside him. “You are, aren’t you?” she interrogated. “Inuyasha, please, there’s no need to be jealous.” She pulled at his arm and held his hand in hers. “You’re my best friend. Nothing is ever going to change that.”

He smiled softly as she leaned her head against his shoulder. Sango’s words from earlier came to mind, but he quickly dismissed them with a small shake of his head. They were friends, nothing more. Even Kagome had agreed.

But he couldn’t help the warmth that pooled in his stomach and the way his heart palpitated against his chest.

They arrived at Kagome’s doorstep minutes later. “Thank you for walking me home, Inuyasha,” she said.

“No problem,” he replied, his amber eyes glowing in the darkness. He stood so close to her he could see the small puffs of their breath dance with one another between them.

Kagome grinned up at him, watching as snowflakes melted into his hair and disappearing in his mane of silver. “Well, I guess I should go in,” she mumbled. “You get home safe, okay?”

“Kagome, wait,” he suddenly called.

She eyed him hesitantly. “What is it?”

He averted his gaze and seemed to be fumbling for words. “I… uh… I have something for you.”

Eyebrows raised with surprise. “For me?”

Inuyasha swallowed thickly. He pulled a small package from inside his pocket and handed it to her. “My mother made it for me years ago. I thought you might like it.”

Her eyes questioned him as she delicately took the package. The wrapping job was horrible, and she hid a smile from the boy who had done it. What was inside, though, took her breath away.

The Christmas ornament wasn’t nearly as fancy as the ones in the store. It wasn’t all that modern, and truth be told, the face had smudges of dirt. It was an angel fashioned from beige cloth and denim, the wings on the back had once been shiny but had become dulled with age.

Kagome knew it should’ve been thrown out long ago, replaced with something that sparkled. But dirt was not the only thing this little angel had accumulated. It was soaked in memories, drenched in happy times, a bridge back to the years gone by. Each stitch had been sewn by his mother before she had become so sick. And Inuyasha had entrusted her with it.

Tears came to her eyes. “You’re giving this to me?” she questioned quietly.

He nodded, watching her reaction carefully.

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thank you, Inuyasha. This means so much.”

“Keh,” he replied. “It’s nothin’ really.”

A small imperceptible smile found its way to his lips, as he wrapped his arms around her in return.

[yentotajaan]

Repercussions II: Wasp’s Nest

Yen’to wandered up to the library with a sense of foreboding. The reason for the meeting was unclear, but with Khan anything was possible. As he entered the library proper, he spied Strega and Khan already present. Damn... thought I would have some moments of peace to prepare for the drunken rambling that is sure to ensue. They engaged in a bit of small talk as they waited, much to Yen’to’s annoyance, but it was not long before the others who saw the posting started filtering in. Annoyance shifted rapidly to surprise at the steadily increasing number of attendees: Alyona, Alaric, Kouronne, Silf, Luka, Ghost, Lalatua, and Ramius. A mixture of new and old employees.... but Alaric does not even work for Lady Faye, does he? How did Khan rope him in? 

The lingering questions were soon cleared up -  Ramius indicated that he was the one that called the meeting rather than Khan. Oh good... maybe this time the briefing will actually be coherent. A strange screen popped out of a device on Ramius’ back, some sort of video feed from one of his drones that apparently captured sight of a suspicious person frequently loitering in the hills around the Shroudrose. Ramius wanted everyone to go out and attempt to find, capture, and interrogate the suspicious target. There were transmissions that potentially linked him to Garleans. I would say this sounds easy enough, but every time I have said that the complete opposite was true. Nothing involving Khan is every that simple.

As they began leaving the Shroudrose grounds, it was not long before Ramius spotted someone suspicious on a path up a nearby hill, leaning against a tree. At his suggestion, they split up to approach from different directions and hopefully catch the person in a pincer. Yen’to took about half of the group while Ramius took the remainder, and upon his signal they approached a visibly panicking miqo’te. He could not be more suspicious even if he was trying...

The unlucky miqo’te was sweating and fidgety, and cracked under pressure almost immediately. As he was not so gently prodded for answers, some in the group began remarking that they smelled smoke. That is odd... did something spark out in the forest? It is not storming, though. The sounds of bells clanging and shouts from Wood Wailers began filtering in from the south, where smoke was streaming into the sky. What in the... that looks like houses are on fire! Before anyone could figure out exactly what was happening, the twang of bows being drawn nearby forced everyone to take cover. Arrows loosed found their target easily - the poor panicking miqo’te spy. Strega and Alyona attempted to keep him alive while Yen’to and Kouronne returned fire with their gun and bow.  Their targets were dressed like Wood Wailers, complete with wooden masks. Oh no... saboteurs?!

The two saboteurs went down quickly, a bit too dead to question. Ramius began picking up strands of chatter from the wounded spy’s linkshell, prompting him to scan for aether currents with his goggles. I swear, that man has a gadget for every occasion. The linkshell chatter made it clear that they were dealing with Garlean infiltrators. Yen’to barely had time to absorb this information before Ramius pointed them north. The band cautiously made their way forward before pausing at a bend in the path.

Half a dozen arrows whizzed by, forcing everyone to press up against the hill just before the bend in the path. Yen’to, Ramius, and Kourunne ran out to fire back at the archers, easily cutting the ambush short. Or so they thought. A shout came from the bushes nearby to “cut down the savages”, and more ‘wood wailers’ leapt out, flanking the party and trapping them in the middle of the path - lancers in the rear and more archers in the front. Damn it -- with the actual guards distracted by those fires we are on our own!

The fighting was brief but brutal. Yen’to yelped as an arrow embedded itself into his leg above the knee, avoiding the armored greaves he hoped would have protected him. Buckling down, he managed to level his rifle and return fire, felling his attacker. Most of the others managed far better, and the Garleans soon came to realize that underestimating tea house employees was a surprisingly bad idea. Lalatua used both fire and ice magic to great and terrifying effect, while Luka ended up burning and melting one of the wooden masks into a hapless soldier’s face. 

The other Garleans fell one by one, but they managed to also injure Alyona before being defeated. Most of the ambushers were dead, but a few laid wounded and moaning. As with the spy, Alyona called Khan over the linkshell to gather the wounded Garleans. Hmph, I say let them bleed out... but the dead do not give up secrets. Once again, Ramius utilized his goggles to pick up the trail and the group rushed in the direction of the ferry docks. Or all but Yen’to rushed, who could only do a hurried limp at this point.

As they approached the docks, they could see the Garleans’ sloop shrinking in the distance as it sped away. There was only one remaining boat at the docks,  with a goblin skipper drinking away the day nearby. He seemed wary at first of the anxious group, but a bag full of gil changed his tune. He promptly called over his own linkpearl to Khan that he was taking a break and that Khan could go fook himself. Oh gods -- this is Khan’s ship?!

The little sloop had seen better days, and seemed to be held together by little more than rusty nails, rotting boards, and pure hope. ... Do I also smell liqour? It had a black flag emblazoned with red glasses, reminiscent of the pair worn by Khan. A kobold on deck gave them a happy little wave and nonchalantly returned to swabbing the deck.  This... both makes complete sense and is utterly stupid. At the urging of Lalauta and Strega, Yen’to sat down to take the weight of his injured leg. Strega once again took the opportunity to stab him with a magitek medical device, despite their previous discussion about advance warnings. At the direction of Ramius, the others grabbed what they could to use as oars and employed aero magic in an attempt to catch up with their targets.

‘Their’ ship came within a few dozen yalms of the Garleans before a shout came from behind some rocks in the river, and another boat slipped out and sped in their direction. Seven hells, how many ambushes are we going to stumble into?! The party braced for impact, and the two boats soon collided and locked into place. Belting out war cries, the Garlean boarding party swarmed onto Khan’s floating coffin.

Yen’to had managed to stand by this point, and upon seeing a saber swinging his way he managed to block it with his armored gauntlet, then returned the favor by slamming the butt of his rifle into the man’s head like a club. Alaric had ripped off one of the boards from the deck to use as a makeshift weapon; a vhan below deck looked up through the hole and simply returned to whatever it was doing.  Uh... I hope that bit was not important. Ramius finished off the remaining Garleans with his quick-firing pistol, and managed to free the boats by cutting entangled ropes. 

Upon arriving at shore, they were met with a scene of carnage. Dockworkers and a few Wood Wailers were crumbled on the ground, seriously wounded but not yet dead.  A jumble of tracks led deeper into the woods. Alyona once again used the linkshell to inform Khan that there were wounded that needed tending, but his response was a complaint that it would take a while because someone had stolen his boat. ... Oops? Well, that is what he gets for being sloppy! One of the injured workers confirmed where the Garleans fled, and the group was soon hot on their heels.

The party caught up to the remaining Garleans soon enough, who were busy at work doing something near a patch of trees. They did not have long to observe the enemy before being spotted, and a Garlean officer called for his troops to form up. They did so with alarming speed and precision, and soon let loose a fusillade of bullets from their gunblades. Thankfully, their aim was not as precise as their formation but a few in Ramius’ group were still hit. Damn it... if I die here I am killing Khan!

The gloves were off now, and no mercy was to be given. Yen’to finally activated his machinist aetherotransformer and spewed a gout of flame from the end of his rifle towards an unfortunate clump of Garleans. The others did not hold back either, letting loose with their fiercest techniques to utterly obliterate their targets in a storm of explosions and fire. I almost feel sorry for the bastards.... almost. As the smoke cleared, it was made apparent what the Garleans had been concerned with - a secret door leading underground. 

Cautiously, the group made their way into the underground store room. It was unlit and barely any light made its way inside. Yen’to’s moon-keeper eyes quickly adjsuted to the darkness, but few of the others were so lucky. Lalatua used some aether to light up her staff, and what it revealed gave everyone pause.

There were numerous desks and cabinets filled with papers, and posters and flyers covered the walls alongside maps. Almost in a stupor, they fanned out to dig through the papers to figure out exactly what they were dealing with. It was worse than suspected. On the largest desk, there was a stack of flyers with names and brief descriptions, many from previous missions with Khan:

Faye Covington, Silf Silverwood, Mocking Bird, Yen’to Tajaan, Elyn Merielle, Mako, Strega, Deccan, Ramius Raske, Khuron Khan.

By the Twelve.... these are signed by tribunus Lucian. He knows so much! How?! Aside from Lucian’s signature, there were directives commenting on multiple phases and local assets. Some of the other posters had vaguely familiar sketches, but were lacking descriptions. Sensing time was of the essence, everyone gathered whatever they could carry and made haste back to the Shroudrose to disseminate the information later and lick their wounds.

All this from one little information gathering mission that went sideways almost a moon ago. If the Garleans do not kill us, Lady Faye just might.

https://yentotajaan.tumblr.com/post/635629242574602240/repercussions

@tough-bit-of-fluff​

@ramius-xiv​

@fair-fae​

@eorzeanharmony​

[chestnut-b]

Himawari Chapter 8

Beneath a masked smirk, the letter found a comfortable home in his breast pocket. 

Note to self. Iruka is truly a man of extremes. A Hashira offers him a souvenir, and he asks for Orochimaru’s head or nothing at all.

Chapter 8 of a Demon Slayer AU

In the blink of an eye, summer had passed.

Iruka looked out into the vast forest as the winds of autumn blew past. The colours were already well in the midst of changing; green giving way to golds and reds. The lush soundscape of summer was no more, instead, the winds carried crisp, dry notes that only served to accent the chill that settled in his bones.

He sat now in what was a certain Hashira’s preferred napping spot, high above the school grounds. It had been a few months since the man had left, but now, in the teacher’s lap, a tired hound was napping, warm and content.

Iruka gazed at the slip of paper in his hand. He had to keep a good grip on it, lest a sudden gust of wind carried it off. Admittedly, he’d gone over its contents five times by now, but surely, he thought, one more time couldn’t hurt.

Iruka-sensei,

At the time of writing this, I’m still alive, isn’t that nice?

If you are too, then I’m glad it wasn’t a wasted trip for Bisuke.

You’ve spoiled him, and he’s pickier about his treats now, but I guess that’s fine.

Not much excitement where I am I’m afraid, and not much good tea either.

If you’d like a souvenir, you need only ask, though Guruko can’t carry very much. Please be reasonable, sensei.

It was signed off with a gracefully brushed henohenomoheji.

Iruka’s other hand rested in Bisuke’s fur. He stroked it absentmindedly, sighing.

“Bisuke, what do you think I should ask for?”

The hound in question merely whined, and nestled his head deeper under the sleeve of his haori. With a chuckle, Iruka carefully folded the paper back up, his fingers running over each fold and crease, before tucking it into his breast pocket. He let his palm linger on his chest.

It’d gotten just a bit warmer.

--------------------------------------

“Sakura? What’s the matter?”

The next morning, Iruka had seen Bisuke off, well fed and rested. He was in the middle of making his afternoon rounds when his ears picked up the sounds of soft crying. The school had been set up in an abandoned shrine compound, and he’d found her behind the aged offering box, below the large twisted ropes and bells.

“I-Iruka-sensei.” She lifted her head, her cheeks red and tear stained.

He crouched before her and placed a hand on her head.

“I’m here. What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. “I miss my parents.” She cried.

Iruka looked at his surroundings.

That’s right...her parents were shrine keepers.

Iruka hadn’t met them, but he knew they’d sheltered many slayers over the years, more than a few who were only alive today thanks to their intervention. The Harunos had been talented herbalists, and he’d come across their books on numerous occasions in Sarutobi’s library.

“I’m scared, sensei. I know we’re supposed to fight, but when I think about demons, all I can think about is running away.” She admitted, clutching her knees closer.

Iruka’s chest tightened. The child had only been here for half a year.

“Sakura, it’s only natural to feel that way. We’re human.” With the edge of his sleeve, he started to dry her cheeks. “Until you’re able to take care of yourself, we’re all here to protect you.” He’d say it as many times as he needed to.

“But the selections-“

“If you don’t want to take them, you don’t have to.” That was really the only saving grace in all this, he thought somberly. “If you want to follow in your parents’ footsteps, there are other ways to do it, Sakura. You don’t have to fight.”

“R-Really?” The relief in her eyes was apparent.

Iruka smiled gently, nodding. Getting up slowly, he offered her his hand.

“We’re teaching you to fight so you can protect yourself. Even if you don’t join the corp, there will always be a place for you.” He explained. Taking her small hand in his, he helped her to her feet.

Truth be told, it was something he always wished he could say to Naruto, but even he wasn’t sure those words would hold up under the weight of his destiny. Sakura at least, he didn’t have to worry for. If the Senju wouldn’t take her in, Sarutobi would. He’d see to it himself if it came down to it.

Hand in hand, they started to walk back into the compound. The rest of the children were playing catch, and their laughter echoed through the pavilion. By now, picking out Naruto’s voice amidst the chaos was second nature to Iruka.

Feeling a little more at ease, Sakura tugged gently on his hand, prompting him to face her.

“But sensei, fighting with swords, it’s a little fun.” She smiled sheepishly.

Iruka laughed and winked at the girl.

“Isn’t it? Sakura, don’t lose out to the boys. If they get out of hand when I’m not around, you’ll have to knock some sense into them for me.”

The smile widened into a returning grin.

“Ok!”

--------------------------------------

Months he’d spent ranging and searching, only to reach another dead end.

I should be used to this by now. How many years has it been?

Kakashi stepped back to lean against a tree, his hands resting on the hilt of the blade propped before him. The moon, previously obscured by a sea of clouds before the battle, finally revealed itself, casting a soft light on the surrounding area.

It was a scene of pure carnage.

A small rural village had been wiped out by a single demon. The bodies left uneaten were strewn about, marred beyond recognition. The women and children had been taken first.

They were always taken first.

If he’d arrived just two days earlier, he could have saved these people.

Stop it, Kakashi. If you carry on like this, you’ll-

Shut up, Gai.

The Hashira sheathed his blade. He’d found a spot upwind, away from the stench of blood and decay. Taking a seat at the base of the tree, he brought his fingers to his lips, and soon a sharp whistle cut through the dead silence of the night. It wasn’t long before a crow descended, landing on his arm. With its usual beady stare, it waited for instructions.

“Call for the kakushi.”

The support members from the nearest outpost would need to deal with the aftermath. He couldn’t afford to be held up by the local authority. After all, the demon slayers didn’t have any kind of recognition from the governing powers.

The crow crooned softly before taking off into the sky. With a tired, hooded gaze, Kakashi watched as its dark silhouette melted into the night.

You aren’t too fond of them, are you?

An amused voice echoed in his head.

Exhausted, Kakashi didn’t resist the inviting pull of the recollection.

The teacher had watched him send off another report one late afternoon. He sat under the shade of the large tree that stood between their rooms. Unlike the cold glow of the moon, the light that fell was a warm gold, dappled. Bisuke had taken a liking to being curled up in Iruka’s lap, a habit he’d apparently picked up from Guruko, and the youth had been engrossed in a book that was decidedly not Icha-Icha.

It was true, he admitted. Kakashi wasn’t overly attached to his assigned crow messenger. That was why he had his hounds. Traveling on a plane of existence humans had no access to, they were only marginally slower than the birds. Impending tragedies, proclamations of death and loss. Any time a crow cried, it could be sending a slayer to his last battle.

No, unlike some of his comrades, he couldn’t find a reason to be fond of his messenger, exactly.

He walked up beside the teacher and leaned against the trunk of the tree.

“When was the last time a crow brought you good news then?” He’d challenged.

Iruka put down his book and closed his eyes with a considering look. His lips slowly turned into a smile, the kind that broadcasted thoughts of unabashed wickedness. Propping his chin with his hand, he looked up to Kakashi with a gleam in his eyes.

“Hmm. Obviously, when it told me you’d be coming here!”

Kakashi’s visible eye twitched incredulously.

Iruka tried to keep a straight face, but quickly ended up turning his head away, bringing a hand to his mouth in a sorry attempt to stifle his laughter.

“Oi, don’t laugh so hard at your own joke.” he’d sighed, exasperated.

It only served to have the opposite effect. Bisuke, awoken by the shaking, looked up, blinking at Kakashi blearily.

After a few more awkward moments, the laughter finally settled.

“But you know, in hindsight, it’s not a joke. I really do mean it” Iruka sighed with a soft expression.

Kakashi didn’t know what to say to that. He supposed he felt pleased by the admission, weirdly enough. He’d been sent to do a job, and while he’d dreaded it at first, being away from where he was most useful, he couldn’t say it was a complete waste of time. Iruka had proven to be a patient teacher in the art of fuda seals. It was also undeniably interesting to watch him at work; the paper coming to life with scriptures composed of inky, stylised crows.

Regrettably, the techniques used for the bounded field required a deep knowledge and understanding of the terrain, far beyond what he had time for. While he couldn’t hope to achieve the same level of expertise by a long shot, he’d been taught a few tricks, and he always appreciated the opportunity to pick Iruka’s brain.

“You don’t have a crow of your own?”

Iruka shook his head. “You know I don’t get sent out on missions. Even the sword I use now belonged to my father.”

Another curiosity.

“Well, I can only say you’re not missing much. They’re supposed to be for official use only.” He’d said ‘supposedly’, remembering at the back of his mind, the numerous occasions Gai sent his just to annoy him.

Loud and brash, just like its owner. It even had a bowl cut to match.

Iruka leaned his head back against the tree. A group of starlings had soared by after emerging from the surrounding forest, their cries echoing in the evening sky.

He looked up at them wistfully, an expression that reminded him painfully of Tenzou. He’d often done the same.

“You may be right about that. I’d probably just grow to become envious of it.” He chuckled.

Kakashi watched the last of the birds disappear.

“Envious of their freedom?”

“Hmm...You think they’re free just because they can fly, Kakashi-san?”

Ever the casual philosopher, he’d come to know Iruka’s fondness for throwing him questions like these.

Kakashi thought of his own situation. Unlike the other Hashira who watched over their own territories, after Tenzou’s death, he’d been granted leave to move as he pleased, to retire from his post, if he so wished to. He could go anywhere he wanted.

But no, he didn’t think of it as freedom in any sense of the word.

“I suppose even a bird needs a place to rest its wings.” He said after some consideration.

After a long pause, Iruka bowed his head, eyeing the sleeping hound in his lap. Then he whispered, with a voice that spoke of wishes, of places far beyond his reach.

“Maybe true freedom…means having a place to return to.”

“Maybe.”

--------------------------------------

The approaching human presence pulled him from his rest. The moon still hung in the sky. It hadn’t been long.

Dressed in the uniform blacks, face obscured by a headdress, a corp member stood at attention before him. He looked just a bit nervous.

“Kakushi, reporting for duty, Hashira-sama! Do you require any medical attention?”

Kakashi shook his head, and took to his feet.

“Carry on with your duties. They need to be given proper burials. I’m heading off. I don’t sense any other demons, but stay alert.”

“Understood! May you see victory on the battlefield, Hatake-dono.” He bowed. He passed a satchel of fresh supplies to Kakashi before joining the rest of his comrades.

A thoroughly unpleasant job, but someone has to do it.

An hour later he found himself enjoying the hospitality of an elderly pair of bamboo cutters who had spotted and hailed him from the road. Sitting around a small fire, they offered him a bowl of hearty stew and to his surprise, a small cup of sake. He’d refused at first, but the couple had insisted.

“A small token for those who risk their lives protecting us.” The lady said, pressing the cup into his hands. The man with her explained that they too, had once been saved by a slayer on the road.

The Hashira didn’t have the heart to tell them they’d very nearly avoided a death trap not too far away. He would stay with them tonight, at least.

After the couple had retired for the evening, Kakashi stationed himself in the trees above. He would have fallen asleep too, had he not sensed Bisuke’s presence nearby. It had been nearly a week since he’d been sent off to the Forest of Death.

The hound materialised before him, and after receiving a grateful scratch, turned around to allow Kakashi to retrieve his quarry.

The first, a letter in a familiar, careful script.

Kakashi-san,

It is good to hear that you are alive. I do hope it remains so.

My thanks for sending Bisuke, the children enjoy his company, but not nearly as much as I do. Working for you, he deserves every bit of spoiling he gets.

As for a souvenir, I would have requested for Orochimaru’s head, but you did ask me to be reasonable. Instead, should you find yourself visiting headquarters again, I would ask that you find time for a detour. A selfish request, I know, but it would be appreciated. Naruto was just a bit disappointed that he didn’t see you leave with his own two eyes.

Having heard of your unfortunate circumstances, I’ve sent a small consolation. Should it run out, you’re more than welcome to send one of the hounds. I hope it brings you some comfort in your time of need.

Lastly, while you’re out there, why not take the opportunity to pick up some better quality reading material? Jiraiya-sama sends his regards, but also asks me to tell you he’s disappointed that you didn’t listen to him. Whatever that means.

Stay safe, and may fortune go with you.

Iruka

It was only too easy to hear his voice narrating it.

He chuckled as he read it one more time.

Note to self. Iruka is truly a man of extremes. A Hashira offers him a souvenir, and he asks for Orochimaru’s head or nothing at all.

Beneath a masked smirk, the letter found a comfortable home in his breast pocket.

Accompanying it was a small pouch holding a small container. He didn’t have to look to figure out its contents, but he did so anyway. The earthy fragrance of tea; a precious portion of Iruka’s personal stash.

It brought to mind quiet afternoons in amicable company, the warmth of a hearth, and shared, amused laughter.

“Bisuke, don’t go gloating about this to the rest. They’re going to get jealous.”

The hound grinned before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

Alone, Kakashi looked up at the moon.

It seemed to glow a little warmer now.

One more thing to add to my list of duties, he sighed.

He’d have to find something good enough to send back for the tea.

--------------------------------------

End of Chapter 8

--------------------------------------

Author’s notes:

Woo, can’t believe we’re already at Chapter 8! What started out as a joke drawing has exploded into a completely, unexpectedly long fic with over 14 illustrations planned so far. I’ve never written anything longer than 2k words the past 15 years or so, so this has been a real brain stretcher. Thank you all for your kudos and comments so far, I always enjoy reading them! (They certainly encourage me to keep this on a regular schedule!)

Sometimes I also forget that not everyone is familiar with Demon Slayer, but I hope it’s been easy enough to follow along! Even if you aren’t, I don’t think you’re missing too much since I’ve made changes to certain parts of it. : )

Terminology and Fun facts:

Kakushi - ‘Hidden’ brigade (sounds very similar to Kakashi huh). They do all the clean up work following a battle. Typically staffed by non-combatants.

Fuda (Seals) - Protective charms that were, in real life, distributed by Shinto and Buddhist priests. The inspiration for Iruka’s is directly taken from the Kumano Hongu Taisha Shinto shrine in Japan. Googling “crow ofuda” will give you a good idea of what it looks like.

Again, thank you for following along so far! I’m having a lot fun writing and drawing for this : ) (at least, before I crank the pain factor up to 11).

See you in the next chapter!

[serararku]

The Black Adder Boys

It was sunset when K’thalen arrived at the outskirts of Gavin’s Gully. The bandit patrols on the lookout for both easy pickings and Immortal Flames’ agents sniffing around their turf never even noticed his presence, thanks to the cover provided by the ugliest and angriest dust storm this year. He wouldn’t mind putting these criminals into the ground, of course, but he preferred to keep his low profile for the time being.

He walked straight down the main street like he owned the place, keeping one hand on his hat to shield his face from the wind and sand, and the other firmly on his studded forge iron belt. The tattered ends of his long leather trench coat flicked up with each gust of wind, flashing the particular firepower he brought along with him. It didn’t take long for the sparse denizens of Gavin’s Gully to catch wind of his approach now that he was within the shanty town. Decent folk knew trouble was brewing and none of them wanted anything to do with it, wisely deciding to shut their blinds and retreat away from their windows; everyone else watched him with curious suspicion, already auctioning off whatever loot they would pry from this deadman’s corpse. He approached the biggest building left standing in the town, and turned to glance over his shoulder. The building across the street was completely abandoned- he would have to keep that in mind.

Creeaaak!

K’thalen swung the tavern’s doors wide open when he stepped inside, letting a dusty gust of wind rush in between his feet before the door closed behind him. His eyes darted across the room like an apex predator to make a quick count of everyone present: three men at the pool table, another four sitting at a nearby table playing cards, one man standing behind the counter, three leaning on the railing on the second floor, and two more keeping to the window on the other end of the room. It looked like a Keeper of the Moon Miqo’te family of three were being held captive: the father held at gunpoint behind the bar, a son crumbled on the floor after a recent beating, and a daughter at the card table- their plaything until they got bored of her sniffling. Everyone stopped what they were doing once they heard the howling wind and the creaking door, with wide eyes and skeptical glares burning holes in his face once he began to make his way to the bar. He kept his movements slow and deliberate in case any of them were trigger happy, with one hand gently pulling his hat off while he ran his fingers through his raven-feathered hair.

“Can we help you?” The man holding the pistol against the gut of the barkeep asked. K’thalen first dusted off the road from his sleeves and sat down on the only stool that wasn’t broken, then set his hat on the counter.

“Treehollow. As tall as you can pour it.”

Laughter ripped through the tavern like someone spilled firecrackers across the floor. Even the father nervously laughed along with his captor, until his side was jabbed with the pistol. “What’re ya laughin’ at?! Ya heard him didn’t ya!? Get ‘em a damn drink!” The man winced and swiped a tall mug from the back shelf, before fumbling with the tap. K’thalen slowly looked over his shoulder at the boy on the floor; he was still alive at least, but no older than twelve. Once these brigands had drunk this tavern dry, he and his father would likely not be long for this world.

“Are ya lost, boy?” The man huffed, hoisting himself onto the counter beside K’thalen. “Do ya not know who we are?”

“Don’t know your face.” He answered, studying the barkeep’s face. His eyes were glazed over and empty, yet still exhausted from the fear of death; the poor man was hopeless in his situation, knowing these thugs would have their way with his children until they no longer amused them. “But I know your colors. You’re the Black Adder Boys.”

“That’s right.” He gave his buddies an amused sneer before returning his attention to the stranger. “‘Course… the real question is, who’re you?”

K’thalen lifted a finger as he raised the mug to his lips. He made him wait for a full seven seconds as he downed his drink in a half-dozen gulps. When he finally set the empty mug down, he smacked his lips a few times before answering, “A visitor lookin’ for a friend.” His ears pointed behind him when he heard the pool sticks slap against the table, and the skidding of chairs sliding backward; he furtively slipped his free hand down into his lap and braced himself.

The man leaned down to eye level and whispered, "Ain't no friends o'yours 'round here, mister. So why don't you uhhh… disappear before we beat ya to death?"

With a slow nod and pursed lips K'thalen reached for his hat and slipped it back onto his head. "Aye, I'm gone. But I'm takin' the barkeep and his kids with me."

"You'll be lucky t’leave with your life." The friendly facade has melted away now that he was no longer amused. He placed a firm hand on his shoulder before saying, "You don't make demands o'us, ya hear me, cat bastard? Leave all o’your money on the count-”

K’thalen whipped his elbow into the man’s face with a wet crunch! He then swung his arm around and smashed that tankard against his head so hard the wooden mug split in two- he shot up to his feet and pulled his revolver from its holster and spun around to face whoever stood behind him. His ears flattened against his head when he saw how many barrels were pointed at him. If it weren’t for a Hyur standing by the door with his arms crossed, he would be dead already.

“That’s enough of that, lad.” He chuckled, his eyes snapping to the barely conscious man with the broken nose. “Put ya gun down, nice and easy. Ain’t nobody need to die in our own turf.”

He was reluctant to drop his custom six-shooter, but he obliged all the same, keeping his other hand hidden. “You the one in charge ‘round here?”

“I am. You can call me Alfric.” Once the revolver smacked against the floor, he raised his hand to signal his buddies to lower their own weapons. “... you sound familiar. Do I know you stranger?”

The last thing he needed was someone recognizing who he was before he was ready. “Just passin’ by, lookin’ for a friend.” K’thalen’s ears perked up to the sound of subtle footsteps on the upper level over his head. “He goes by the name of Turold Two-Shank. Your boss.”

“Was my boss.” Alfric slipped his thumbs into the loops of his pants. “Poor bastard bit off more than he could chew, and now he dines with the dead. We answer to Jack now.” He paused to study the stranger one last time. “I’m only gonna tell you this once. Empty your pockets and leave that shiny piece on the floor there, and you’ll only walk outta here with your life and some bruises. Can’t have strangers makin’ fools of my men, especially my boss. You underst-?”

“Fuck that!” The man with the smashed nose gurgled out. “Someone shoot this sumbitch!” K’thalen saw him reaching for something in his peripheral vision, and that was all the excuse he needed.

Tha! Like lightning his hidden hand shot from his coat and fired! Blam! Blam! Blam! Three shots, one for the loudmouth, and two more at the man in charge. -thump! He leapt backward up and over the counter, rolling his fingers across the steel hammer to unload the rest! Blam blam blam! The barkeep covered his ears and dropped down behind the counter with K’thalen, as a hail of bullets ripped through the bottles on the back shelf and busted the wooden barrels overhead. “He got Alfric!” He heard someone shout under the chorus of gunfire. “Kill that cat bastard!”

K’thalen laid low against the counter as he fished out a fistful of bullets from his pocket, his heart beating against his chest like a drum. The barkeep was screaming as malt liquor showered them from above, but at least he was flat on his stomach and unharmed; slowly but surely the barrage from the Black Adder Boys died down once they were out of ammo. “Did we get em?!” Someone shouted, with the familiar sound of several people reloading- it was now or never! “Oh shi-!”

He rolled out of cover for round two. Six muzzle flashes made six falling corpses. He dropped the smoking gun and jumped for his prized revolver, popping the hat off a man above him with a single shot; he then spun around on his heel and struck the man using the daughter as a shield in the groin, allowing her to drive her elbow into his nose and break free of his grasp.

“Grab the boy and get back behind the counter!” He ordered, spinning his empty revolver before sliding it back into his lucky holster. “Them boys outside heard that commotion!”

“W-what are we gonna do?!” The father pleaded, throwing his arms around his children. “There’s dozens of them! You ain’t got the firepower for them all, mister!”

“Don’t I?” K’thalen pulled off his coat and let it drop to the floor. He reached for his prized possession on his back and pulled it over his shoulder; the magitek rifle unfolded and clicked into place, with ceruleum canisters glowing on its underside. He leapt behind the counter with them and pointed the strange weapon toward the door, and metal bars drove into the wooden countertop as a small half-visor dropped over his right eye. “Cover your ears!”

SHOOM! SHOOM! SHOOM! SHOOM!

As soon as he saw silhouettes and shadows rushing toward the door and windows, K’thalen made them disappear. Superheated ceruleum-propelled slugs punched fist-sized holes through the front entrance of the tavern, and the building across the street, and the building behind that one, and the one behind that one too. Glowing red shells littered the table and floor to his left, as he fired over and over again; it wasn’t until the barrel was shimmering and white-hot did he finally stop, but not because he wanted to; he was out of rounds at last.

The rifle slowly collapsed back into itself, but he wisely kept it anchored to the counter instead of putting it on his back to give himself second and third degree burns. The father slowly lifted his head to see the aftermath, and the daughter soon followed. The front door was gone, as was most of the wall; they could see across the street that the other building was completely toppled over and in ruins. “Menphina’s madness… what was that?!”

“Magitek.” K’thalen slowly rose to his full height, slipping more bullets into his favorite revolver as his rifle began to automatically cool down. “Stay behind the counter. I gotta have a chat with a friend of ours right quick.” Slowly he made his way around the counter, stepping over corpses and broken bottles to reach the man he neutered- he was still clutching his bloodied crotch, whilst he struggled to breathe. When he noticed his approach, a scornful grimace spread across his pained face.

“W-what do ya fuckin’ want?!”

“Looks painful, lad. Real painful.” K’thalen pulled out his revolver and crouched beside the man. “Tell me where Jack is holdin’ up, and I’ll put you outta your misery. Bleedin’ out from what’s left of your balls is a bad way to die.”

“H-he’s gonna skin ya alive…!” The man spat, in between his groans and wincing. “He’s g-gonna… turn you int-to a coat… y-ya filthy… cat bastard!”

“Suit yourself.” K’thalen slipped his gun back where it belonged and bounced up to his full height. He glanced over at the family watching him; seeing a man- even a worthless bandit- squirm around and slowly die in his own blood was not something he wanted to put them through. With a sudden change of heart, K’thalen pulled out his revolver and turned back around to finish the job.

“W-wait…! W-!”

Blam!

[the-delta-42]

The Pirate Prince Chapter 16

The Pirate Prince

Chapter 16: The Quest begins

“IT’S BEEN WHAT?!” Came Impaya’s shout, making the various crowd members flinch, before the Sheikah Matriarch threw her doors and stormed down the steps, rage practically sparking off her.

“Where is Yigia?” Impaya grit out, her eyes narrowed.

“He said he had business at the shrine.” Said Kado, as he sharpened an arrowhead, “He said he didn’t want to be disturbed.”

Impaya reached forwards and grabbed Kado by the lapels of his coat, “Bring. Him. Here. Now.”

Kado was silent, before he placed two fingers in his mouth and blew. A lone falcon flew down from the sky and landed on his arm, Kado made a strange jerk with his head, prompting the bird to fly off towards the shrine behind the fairy fountain. Kado turned and faced Impaya, “He’ll be here by noon.”

Impaya gave Kado a glare that could melt steel, before she turned on her heel and stalked towards the graveyard.

“Who’s Yigia?” Whispered Link, leaning towards Zelda.

“Yigia is the grave keeper,” Said Impa, not looking at Link, “The Royal graves are the only graves that are built to be maintained, if the tomb has fallen into such a state that a monster could inhabit it without our notice, it would be a form of desecration that even the Yiga Clan could not ignore.”

“And Yigia is the grave keeper?” Asked Link, making Impa turn towards him.

“Yes, he’s also supposed to be at the Graves at all times, unless he has permission otherwise.” Responded Impa, before an arrow flew towards Zelda.

Impa grabbed the arrow out of the air and launched it back towards it’s origin point. The Arrow fell short, but it had the intended effect of making everyone look at the attacker. A Shiekah with an upside down Shiekah Tattoo snarled at the group, before notching another arrow and losing it at Zelda. Impa caught the arrow, before throwing at knife at the attack. The knife hit home and the attacker fell forwards with a sickening thud.

“Who,” Said Link, “was that?”

“That, was Yigia.” Said Impaya, flipping the corpse over with her foot, “Treacherous slimeball.”

A thunderous scream broke the air. Link gazed upwards, before spotting Skyloft, his wings arched above the village. And then he left, his giant wings creating a massive gust of air that knocked everyone down. Link could’ve sworn that he heard Skyloft singing.

“I don’t understand.” Said Zelda, after a moments silence, “He could’ve destroyed the entire village, but chose to spare it.”

“He was fighting.” Said Impa, narrowing her eyes, “At least we know that they aren’t acting on their own accord.”

TPP

The screaming grew louder, He could barely keep his balance as he flew. He spotted Mare and Viribus stalking around Hyrule Field. Oh, how he longed to speak with them once more, but he felt the curse taking over again.

No where in the fifteen regions and five kingdoms would be safe if he allowed the darkness to take hold. The oldest of the Guards felt weary, he flew towards the great gate. The sword must be protected.

TPP

Link checked the travelling pack on Epona. The dark brown mare huffed towards her rider, butting her head against his shoulder as she started to circle him. Link ran his hand down her face, he felt, without Epona, he’d be lost.

Link kept his ears open, the Princess’s safety was in his hands, Impaya made that all too clear. He heard Zelda come up behind him.

“Are you ready?” Asked Link, turning to face his friend.

“As I’ll ever be.” Said Zelda, quietly, “Impaya believes that we should go to each of the regions, reunite Hyrule before taking the Castle back.”

“A wise strategy,” Said Link, before moving to check Arawn’s pack. Arawn was a white stallion that was descended from the same white stallion that was found by the Hero of the Wild, “No one in Hyrule would dare turn away their Queen.”

“Link,” Said Zelda, quietly, “we both know they won’t see me as their Queen.”

“The Rito, Zora, Gorons, Sheikah, Gerudo and Kokiri do,” Responded Link, counting them off on his fingers, “That’s six out of fifteen. So, I think we’re going great.”

“The Lord of Akkala barely stood by my mother, the Lord of Hateno and Faron are both dead with no heirs, Hebra, Ridgeland, Lake and Central Lords would rather see me married off and we’re not counting the lesser lords in Lanayru, Eldin, Tabantha and Woodlands.”

Link stopped and looked at Zelda, who was hugging herself, “Zelda, they’re old men, who’d rather live in the past than actually help themselves or the others around them. Yes, the Wolves of the Forests and the Hunters of the plains are gone, but we may find what remains of them. Zel, we’re going to have to keep fighting, even if we don’t go to the Lords, the Colossi and whoever is controlling them are hunting you and anyone with the blood of the Goddess until their dying day.”

Zelda looked at Link, “When did you become so wise?”

“I had a really shitty week, Princess.” Said Link, leaning against Zelda’s horse, “By the way, where did the name ‘Tetra’ come from?”

Zelda blushed and scratched the back of her head, “It’s my middle name.”

“You told me you didn’t have a middle name.” Said Link, folding his arms.

“I lied, my middle name is Tetra,” Said Zelda, blushing, “You know, after the one that rediscovered Hyrule before the seas receded?”

“The same one who was the wife of the Hero of Winds?” Asked Link, raising his eyebrows.

Zelda nodded, before looking at Arawn and stared, “What the hell did you do to my horse?”

Link looked proud of himself, “You like it? It took me two hours to fully plait his mane.”

“He looks ridiculous!” Protested Zelda, her hands going to her hair, “No one is going to take me seriously if my horse looks like he belongs in a show!”

“Isn’t that what a Parade is?” Snarked Link, before Zelda hit him with the map, “Okay, not funny, but seriously, where we’re going, they are going to look at him and see him as a Royal Stallion fit enough for the Queen of Hyrule.”

“I’m not a Queen, Link.” Said Zelda, shaking her head softly.

“That’s how they’re going to see you, Zelda,” Said Link, stepping closer and placing his hand on her shoulder, “They see your parents as dead and the Royal court with them. They’d jump as a chance to aid their monarch.”

Zelda looked up at him, “Hateno is overrun with monsters, Faron is rife with infighting and betrayals and the Guardian Protectors of this land are against us. Link, if we’re going to have any chance of swaying them, we’re going to need the Master Sword.”

“And to get that, we’re going to need the Tokens of the Goddesses.” Said Link, leaning against Epona.

“We already have one,” Said Zelda, gesturing to the bag that held Farore’s Pearl, “The other two are in Hebra and Eldin.”

“And Lord Arnold hasn’t stood with the Royal Family since your mother married your father.” Said Link, folding his arms, “And the Lord of Akkala isn’t known for his hospitality.”

“After what he did to the Wolves and the Hunters?” Asked Zelda, sarcastically.

“But he is your grandfather.” Said Link, straightening up, “That may convince him to allow us to cross his lands.”

Zelda was silent, in truth, she didn’t know how the Lord of Akkala would react to her presence, he barely acknowledged her existence and when he did, it was always to ask why she hadn’t been married off.

There was a scream, making Link and Zelda look towards the north entrance to Kakariko, and both immediately wishing they hadn’t. On a lone horse, was the beheaded corpse, with a giant bird’s head pinned through the body where the head would be. Kado grabbed the horse by the reigns and cut the body free and carefully lowing it to the ground.

“It’s Stritch.” Said Kado, before looking at the bird’s head.

Impaya approached the horse and looked at the markings on the saddle.

“This horse came from Akkala.” Said the Matriarch, her red eyes narrowing.

Link and Zelda watched as Kado, finally, removed the bird’s head.

“And this,” Said Kado, grimly, “is definitely a Loftwing.”

The silence echoed through the village; the implication clear as crystal. The Lord of Akkala now stood against Hyrule.

TPP

Link ducked behind a rock, he had joined Kado and a few others in tracking down the Akkalan soldiers, finding them terrorising a village. Courage hummed in his hand, making Link look down at the Sword, Zelda had suggested naming the swords they’d both been given. Link saw Kado notch an arrow, before taking aim at the soldiers.

Link vaulted over the rock, slipping his shield beneath his feet and surfing down to the bottom of the hill, just as Kado’s arrow struck a soldier in the neck. Two others fell to Link, after he rammed courage through one’s chest and removed another’s head. Link spotted two more Soldier’s trying to get away.

An arrow struck one in the back and another struck the second through the back of the knee. Link looked over at Kado, who pointed behind him. Link turned and looked up the hill, spotting Zelda at the top, an ancient bow clasped in her hand.

Link turned around and looked at the surviving soldier, now desperately trying to crawl away. Link and Kado quickly made their way over to him. The soldier grunted as Link kicked him and forced him onto his back.

Zelda watched on as Link and Kado interrogated the soldier. She didn’t hear what they said, but Link took a step back and brought Courage down on the soldier’s head. Zelda glared at the corpses, before turning around and returned to Kakariko. Link watched as the Soldier’s blood drained from his body. He didn’t know his name, but he had met him when his father took him and Aryll to the Castle.

Link and the other warriors followed Zelda back into the village. Link stopped and looked at the shield on one of the soldier’s backs. Picking the shield up, Link examined it. It was circular and looked like it was made of wood, but, at its base, it was steel. Link knew what the wood was for. Noticing that he was falling behind, Link ran back up the hill.

Link saw Zelda by the horses, double checking the supplies he’d packed. Link was a few feet behind Zelda, when she said, “Are you ready to go?”

“I’d follow you into the depths of darkened lands.” Said Link, earning him a small smile from Zelda.

“Then, let’s be off.” Said Zelda, climbing onto Arawn’s back and settling herself into the saddle.

Link followed suit, before gently spurring Epona forwards. As he and Zelda passed, blossom petals were thrown on the ground in front of them. Link smiled, knowing that the village was wishing them luck.

“To Hebra?” Asked Link, looking back at Zelda, before she drew level with him.

“To Hebra.” Confirmed Zelda, a determined look in her eyes.

Link grinned, before spurring Epona into a gallop.

[sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-shelby]

Possibly my most epic DnD session yet! (now with sloppy illustrations!)

****Late-game spoilers for Hoard of the Dragon Queen****

I play as Killian Lyle. Level 6 human fighter, eldritch knight, lawful good. +4 str, con. -2 cha. You know the type.

Others in the party are: Rat-Rat, the forest gnome druid. Syrris, the wood-elf rogue. Montagor, the half-elf bard.

So, the last thing Killian did the session before was reenter a tavern our party got kicked out of and try to bribe the tavern keeper to help us get past some baddies. Big tough-looking tavern keeper grabs his weapon. *Roll initiative* End of session.

In Killian’s hands were a shield and a loaf of bread he had recently been served in that tavern. He was alone, the rest of his party discussing plans outside. We all rolled initiative, but only Killian was aware there was going to be combat so far. A couple of the party members got to go first. Basically just wandered town square, taking in surroundings. There are a whole bunch enemy guards nearby, watching, but not picking a fight with the group. 

Killian’s turn. He steps forward and tries to FORCE THE LOAF OF BREAD INTO THE GUYS MOUTH to catch him off-guard and maybe keep him quiet for a second. SMASHING SUCCESS! Guy is unable to stop me from jamming those carbs down his throat and drops his weapon. I bonus action my sword to my hand.

Tavern-keeper’s turn. DM has the guy do a con save to make sure he doesn’t CHOKE TO DEATH AND DIE!  *shit, shit, I didn’t want to kill him!!!* Luckily he saves and is able to clear his airway of bread. He starts swinging fists and misses.

Keep going in initiative order. Guest calls out “HES FIGHTING THE BARTENDER!” Most guests at the tavern flee upstairs, but 2 pull daggers and join in. Montagor the bard hears some commotion and opens the door to see Killian shoving bread down the tavern-keeper’s throat and other people moving in with weapon’s drawn. Tries playing the bagpipes nice and loud for extra diversion, but nat 1′s and pops the bag. Syrris the rogue comes in and starts quietly and *permanently* eliminating anyone attacking with a weapon. Killian tries multiple times to thunk the tavern-keeper on the head with the hilt of his sword well enough to knock him out, but the dude keeps fighting. Poor guy can’t make a single hit though. 

This fight’s going longer than Killian was hoping. He tries a different tactic: INTIMIDATE. Another smashing success. Like a 19 or something, since intimidate is his one charisma-based skill that doesn’t get a negative modifier. BARTENDER GETS A NAT 1! Surrenders. Killian backs off just before the Captain of the group of enemies walks in.

“WHAT”S GOING ON IN HERE!?”

Killian gambles on deception. NAT 20 “Some guys were fighting the tavern-keeper. We helped. They’re dead now.”

Intimidated tavern-keeper nods, says they were going to rob him.

Enemy captain thanks us for protecting his friend and leaves. WOW, DODGED A BULLET THERE!

We head out too, Killian dropping a couple of gold coins for the tavern-keeper as he heads out, and start looking for a good way to get past the guards. We’re trying to get into a GIANT ICE CASTLE that’s about to FLY AWAY. Time’s running out. I’m not sneaky, but we’re about to give it a try, see if our amazing rolls continue. We decide to peek in the giant stable that had HUGE REPTILIAN GROWLS coming from it. This would either be really bad or really good for us. 

Really good! Tied-up wyverns along one wall, riding harnesses on the other. The ice castle begins to take off. Guess we’re doing this! We smell the stink of meat from a nearby building. The rogue is unable to carry a full pig carcass herself. Killian goes to help. NAT 20! Throws a pig over one shoulder, and a sheep over the other and marches off toward the wyverns. Killian has crap animal handling skills, but Rat-Rat the druid doesn’t. Killian keeps the things distracted with bites of meat, Rat-Rat puts the harnesses on them with great success. We climb on, again without incident. And Rat-Rat is apparently a natural-born dragon-rider because he came up with an incredible plan that worked without a hitch. 

Minor-illusion the image of a fat turkey, flying just out of reach of the wyvern. Bard prestidigitation’s the smell of juicy meat coming off the “turkey”. Wyverns were eager to follow. Probably more complicated than it needed to be, but hey, it has pizzazz!

We are able to catch up to the ice castle and land they wyverns near another stable that they seemed trained to fly to. Looking around, ogres and kobolds seem to pay us no mind. Guess randos flying in on the backs of dragon things is a normal sight around here. But as it starts getting dark, creatures seem to hurry their tasks and make their way indoors. We figure we’d better do so as well. Quietly enter the first door we approach. Amazingly, nobody’s there. Not out and about anyway. There’s a comfortably furnished room right when we walk through the door, but we decide to keep exploring. Rat-Rat casts detect magic. The comfortable room has an illusory wall to an outside platform, but nothing else of note. 

We hear a familiar voice arguing with another voice in another room. A wizard we’d rather not exchange blows with if we can help it. Luckily, according to the DM’s dice rolls, they notice nothing.

Then, further down the hall we heard another familiar voice. Rezmir, the dragonborn cult leader we’ve been tracking for MONTHS. Basically in the first spot we look. Wow, really? And none of us are hurt. Most of us have all of our spell slots and other abilities still available to us. Could this be more perfect? Rat-Rat does see a bit of magic in the room in the last moments before his spell times out, but that’s to be expected, right?

There is a lock.“It looks much more complicated than any lock you’ve encountered before”, the DM tells us. But our rogue is pretty skilled in her arts. She decides to give it a try. 

“With my modifier that was a 30.″ Huh. What luck. DM said later that was a DC 25 lock. 

Rezmir was inside, sitting on her bed in her pajamas, just loving on her doggos. I mean attack drakes. Not paying us any mind whatsoever. *roll initiative*

Syrris goes first. Perfect opportunity for an assassination with her poison dagger and all those extra dice rolls she gets in just this sort of situation. She steps into the room and is SNATCHED UP AND HELD DOWN BY A SENTIENT AREA RUG! I should’ve drawn this part too because I can’t help but imagine the magic carpet from Aladdin wrestling the elf.

Anyway, fighting then ensues. Attack drakes come running, keeping the rest of the party besides the rogue out in the hall. Rezmir starts out unarmed, and shoots off a scary-looking spell at our bard. It misses and melts the wall behind him. Thank goodness it missed. Rogue takes 2 turns escaping the rug, Rezmir runs for her sword across the room. Rat-Rat’s moonbeaming Rezmir rather successfully. Killian and the Montagor are mostly in melee with the drakes, but Killian did start with a firebolt to Rezmir’s face. This fight hurts, both sides taking plenty of damage.

The rogue is taking the brunt of the damage trapped inside the bedroom with the dragonborn and that mean magic carpet. She takes it like a champ, but there’s a turn for the worse when she’s ready for healing. The bard’s starts coming to her aid, and she takes more damage, this time from the sword. Healing has no effect from that point.... The sword did something to stop her from regaining hit points, and after the significant damage from its blade, that’s bad news.

Bard and Rogue get caught in a breath attack, and the rogue goes down. Killian and Rat-Rat are still outside of the room, Killian around a corner and can’t actually see Rezmir from where he’s at. Shit. We still have one drake remaining. Killian tries his best with two attacks to eliminate it, but does min damage on both and it remains standing. Fuck it. Time for an Action Surge. Moves past the drake to where he’s in melee with Rezmir herself, stepping out from around the corner. Double attack again. Hits on both. NAT 20 ON THE SECOND! 

“How did it happen?”, the DM asks. I’m floored that I managed to down her in that hit.

“Killian steps around the corner, swinging his sword to where her saw the breath attack originate, slicing through her pajamas into the scales beneath. He then makes eye contact with her and sees the recognition in her face as she looks his way in surprise, even as he’s pulling back his sword for a second strike. Killian lunges full-force, plunging the sword right through her before she has the chance to react.”

“FOOLS!”, she cries out with her final breath as she disintegrates into ash, her sword and a couple of keys clanging to the floor where she had stood. Simultaneously an ornate chest in the far corner of the room violently explodes, destroying anything that might’ve been inside.

We rush to the Syrris, and Rat-Rat stabilizes her. Killian places her on the bed to rest. Then eyes turn toward the items Rezmir left behind. Killian voices that the rogue won’t be pleased to see the chest exploded when she regains consciousness, but doesn’t personally care much that the loot is no more. The party uses one of the keys in the pile of ash that was Rezmir to relock the room so they can use the comfortable chamber for a night of recuperation before continuing venturing back into the castle.

“Killian, I think you’re the only one of us that could wield that sword.”, Rat-Rat squeaks, pointing to the one remaining object on the ground.

The sword is jagged and black with a purple crystal in the hilt. Something about it makes Killian uneasy.

Killian replies, “A greatsword... Doesn’t really suit my fighting style. But it seems a powerful blade. ” Then he picks it up off the floor feeling powerful magic coursing through it, and hears a voice in his head.

“Hello”, the sword whispers, darkly. “You enjoyed that kill, didn’t you.”

Oh man, having my lawful good, magic fanatic, fighter boy weigh the benefits of wielding a legendary magical sword of untold power, against the moral drawback of it being intelligent and EVIL is going to be a wild ride. He has attuned to it, and we’ll see where this takes us. 

I’m still reeling from all the amazing things that happened in this session. What a day for Killian in particular. 

[ofgoodmenarchive]

Blighted Empire: Ch. 4.5

Unbroken

Since spotting Dorian's ghoulish cast from across the battlefield, Evallan's thoughts had not stopped reeling. He'd attempted to console himself, citing the skill and intelligence of the man. However upon sighting the freakish anomaly, he'd known Dorian could not succeed on his own. The Tevinter was cunning and gifted with a surprising dexterity but had not the experience to survive the encounter.

  We must protect him!

The urge overcame him, overcame everything. Lightbringer did not protest- if anything she understood with perfect clarity. Dorian Pavus was not clan but he was treasured as much by her wielder. As an entity devoted to the protection of family and kin, she could not watch him fall anymore than Evallan could.

At least his suspicion was confirmed; she had no intention of abandoning Dorian the previous day, only meaning to tease him over his panic for the man.

So they sprinted, two beings with one goal. By the time he reached the line, magic fizzled around him with erratic fury and no one in the huddle dared reject his command. They probably thought he meant to do something of more significance than rescue the foolish Tevinter.

  “Let me through!”

The river of red-stained shields parted then clanged shut behind him. Embodying a blizzard, he ripped across the field, encasing the world in ice as he went. His vision blurred to the point of leaving him sightless yet he found no need for eyes. Senses reduced to textures and frequencies, the Deep Roads existed as a map drawn onto his consciousness.

His focus centred on two heartbeats; the first inhumanely slow and deep, almost dead, the other was quickened from panic but still with a signature he recognised.

  Dorian.

Evallan moved with enough urgency he almost startled himself when confronted by the bristling aura of the aberration, a foreboding stain upon the canvas of life.

  Kill it! Kill it now!

The order still hung in his mind when the thing was petrified and imploded into the tiniest fragments. He would have laughed in discomfort at the absurd efficiency if he were not so strangled by concern, refusing to stop for breathe until Dorian confirmed his health.

His thoughts may have calmed in their reeling then, if the fool hadn't-

Evallan could not repeat it to himself.

Embarrassment towards his actions and appearance melted into satisfaction, terror into hunger. He could dance around his emotions all day but not when Dorian Pavus gave of himself so willingly.

  The nerve of the shem!- He must have known.

Known that Evallan's carefully-constructed veneer of restraint was thin and riddled in vulnerabilities. Known he would have no choice but to embrace him- it was not a choice to him.

  If a key is made for a lock, it will turn.

However the most scandalous knowledge Dorian had somehow obtained was the location of his lost birthright, pressed to Evallan's ribs all along.

  Yet you did not take it, you did not confront me. You chose to -

  I really cannot say I understand the way you think either, Dorian Pavus.

Nor could he bring himself to vocalise any of these musings. He was achingly aware of Dorian studying him, calculating but somehow not unkind.

With a steadying inhale, he glanced at the caved-in tunnel and renewed his efforts to meet the man's gaze- a challenge to be sure.

  “I am sorry about your friend...You are alright?” Perhaps he would not wish to discuss the amulet, considering the fate of Elias Caladrius.

  “Oh, I'm fine I suppose, I just...” He started a little hoarsely and had to clear his throat. “He always wanted to be a Warden, but I never imagined it would actually happen. Or if it did, certainly not like this.”

  “I know it is little consolation, especially as it is yet to be seen if he will survive,” He eased as he talked, thinking they might evade other topics. “But the Wardens are in need of recruits like him- capable mages who are good at following direction.”

  “Nothing like you, then,” Dorian joked freely, affectionately. “You do whatever you please.”

Evallan felt the corner of his mouth quirk into a smile, unable to prevent it.

  “And yet my place should be with them.” He answered casually, only realising the gravity of his statement when Dorian perked a brow in alarm.

  “You want  to be a Warden?”

  “No, not truly- that would be foolish, no?” He relented beneath the worrisome expression. “But they do not fear me. They would utilise my abilities to their fullest. They would not poke and prod when something escapes their understanding...”

The Tevinter nodded in slow comprehension but his features soon became pensive, a knowing curve playing along his lips. Evallan had to look away once more, unable to withstand the invitation he read in that smile, knowing he could not refuse it.

  “The Wardens aren't really what we should discuss, Evallan.” He said it softly but with obvious meaning.

He sighed, still refusing to view the man's face.

  “You wish to speak of that now?” He mumbled more coldly than intended.

  “I think I'd rather that than worry over my friend, yes.” His reply seemed sincere. Evallan had to submit with another weary sigh.

  “As you say...” He struggled to make his voice audible as he fished into his robes. “I believe this is yours...”

Tarnished gold swayed from his trembling digits though he did not extend- and Dorian made no motion to claim the birthright. This reassured him somehow, though he couldn't explain why.

  “How did it come into your possession, then?” He pressed- but gently.

  “When I hit you-” Evallan fumbled with the words, eyes on the ground. “It was dropped...I had knelt over it without meaning to. I took it without knowing what it was- at first...”

  “Why didn't you simply return it, Evallan?” Dorian's pitch heightened, both incredulous and sympathetic.

  “You were correct in your assessment,” He laughed brokenly, rubbing his eyes so they would not shed. “I am a coward. I could not face you...I wished for Amrallan to deliver it, but he refused.”

  “Amrallan knew?” Dorian chuckled. “Well, that explains him being so cheerful when he saw me outside your aravel..”

  “Yes, he...understood the situation. We could never hide anything from the other,” Speaking of his brother quelled his nerves, nostalgia blanketing him. “Our mother always said it was a mistake of the gods we were not born together.”

Dorian allowed him to linger on the memory, not pushing him for more but merely watching in respectful quiet. Given time to balance himself, he continued with more strength.

  “He told me I could return it to you, or hold onto it and let it drive me mad...so that is what I did.”

  “But for so long?” Though he still could not look, Evallan heard the confusion. “You could have just...hidden it in my room, or something?”

This would be more difficult to convey. Indeed he wished he could skirt it entirely, the way he did all his emotions. He knew that was no longer an option- Dorian Pavus was owed more than that.

In truth he was owed more than Evallan could ever give.

  “At first...I was simply a coward,” He wrestled with each syllable, forcing them into the light. “But it...became something that helped me survive. A reminder.”

  “A reminder? Of what?” Dorian's voice cracked.

Evallan had to meditate carefully upon his answer, needing to conceptualise feelings and ideas he'd never had to verbalise.

  “One of the last things my brother did was to refuse the amulet. Not long after, he died to protect our clan- to protect me, because of what I represent.” He sucked in air painfully, the grief left unvoiced for years oozed from him like infection from a wound. Pressure that must be released, but that agonised him to do so.

  “I watched their bodies burn with your birthright around my neck. Whenever I looked at it, I would feel guilt, and imagine them.”

  “It was all you had left of him.” Dorian uttered suddenly, voice as melancholic as Evallan felt.

  “It was.” He choked back a sob, transformed it into a bitter laugh- more like a bark. “But soon it was not him I imagined, or my family. It...was you.”

Finally he mustered the courage to make visual contact with the Tevinter; grey eyes full of wonder and heat, sparking with hints of the amber light of The Deep Roads, for now rendered speechless by Evallan's admittance.

  “I imagined a world where I returned this to you, and you...” Speech fizzled in his throat but Evallan knew he had to persevere, the rest leaving him in a hush. “Would recognise me as yours along with it...And so, you see...when we finally met, I could not let go of this imagining.”

Dorian's features softened, a sadness to his gaze. Yet somehow still welcoming- even without a smile.

  “You don't have to imagine that, Evallan.” He said this just as softly and it took everything within himself not to break right then, into a thousand shards, like one of his own spells.

  “Yes, I do.” His voice wavered, he felt so drained, breaking eye contact once more. “I am the Keeper of the Lavellan Clan.”

  “You wouldn't be the only Lavellan involved with a shem- or a Tevinter.”

  “It is not the same.” He shook his head, fingers tightening around the chain he still held. “Lightbringer and I are all that remains of the heart of our clan. My life must be a service to others- to those who sacrificed themselves so I could fulfil my purpose.”

  “And there's no room for anything else- why?” Dorian was incensed, though clearly attempted to reign himself in. “All because of some spirit? You have to live at the whim of others for the rest of your days because- because she chose you when you were- how old even were you?”

  “Ten.” Evallan replied, flat.

  “Ten?!” The Tevinter gave way to unhinged chuckles. “So a spirit took a liking to you when you weren't even old enough to piss straight and that should decide your whole life!?”

  “Yes.” He replied again, still flat.

  “Evallan,” He chortled deliriously. “That's insane, you must see how insane that is- at the very least, it is quite cruel.”

  “It may have been different, if it were not for the Blight,” He murmured, shrugging. “As things are, I am a symbol my people must feel they can rely on.”

  “But you're a person!”

  “To you, I am a person,” He ground out, becoming impatient. “To them, to Thedas, I must strive to be more. I must embody them, their faith in me, their lack of it- all of it.”

This silenced him, though Evallan lacked the nerve to truly witness how it was received- he could not bear to look into Dorian's face and see disappointment or grief. Instead watching the amulet swing near his breast- he had to ask.

  “You saw this when we fell, but you did not take it...”

There was a pause. Then, full of impassioned stubbornness-

  “You can't think of anything I might value more than some silly little amulet!?”

He froze, staring at the gold etchings and nothing else.

  “I have a duty to my clan.” He stated with as much conviction as he was capable of- which in that moment, was very little.

  “And I to my country,” Dorian countered, undeterred. “But don't you think it's possible that we could also have a duty to each other?”

He recalled Titus Ahriman and the blighted oath he'd insisted on swearing to the Lavellan Clan, to Fila.

  You all act as though it is so simple.

  As though every expectation can be overthrown- for what?

  For a simple feeling?

  I envy you that freedom.

  “I would like to believe that.” He rasped after some time.

  “But you don't.” Dorian stated it as a matter-of-fact and Evallan could give no reply.

  To say I believe is a betrayal of my duties.

  To say I do not is a lie to you.

  And I grow so weary of lying to you, Dorian Pavus.

He thrust the amulet into the chest of its rightful owner, grimly announcing;

  “It does not matter what I believe.”

Dorian was briefly wordless, then-

  “No- I don't want it.”

  “What?!” Evallan snapped his posture to actually behold the Tevinter, staring at him in bafflement that tilted towards outrage. What did he mean, he did not want it?!

Of course Dorian Pavus was quite amused and even satisfied by this, smiling pleasantly.

  “If it's all you'll have of me, I'd rather you kept it.”

  “Dorian-”

  “I mean it, Evallan! I want you to hold onto it!” He interrupted, laughing cheerfully. “It's probably brought you more luck than it ever has me! You'll be going back to Tevinter anyway, won't you? You'll be taking it home for me! And when the Archdemon is slain, you'll return it, and I'll carry it home for good.”

There was much he wanted to say; that this was not some whimsical bedtime story exchanged in the dark, that this gesture ultimately meant nothing, that this stupid thing had haunted him for almost half his lifetime and all he desired was the fool to free him of it!

But lost for words, all he could manage was;

  “I cannot...” While lamely attempting to empty his hands into Dorian's.

  “Alright, well...” The man peered down at his newfound burden, pondering. “...I'll just toss it, then!”

  “What?!” He had no control over how shrill his voice became.

  “Well, it hardly has any value to me!- Especially without a country to go back to!” Dorian guffawed and sauntered some distance, amulet dangling precariously, headed for an edge where stone gave way to endless void.

  “Something tells me this will hurt you a lot more than it will hurt me, so-”

An image of the demonic figment from his Harrowing imposed itself upon the world. Evallan's heart caught in his throat and his chest constricted. Unconscious of himself, he sprang and snatched.

  “Give it!” He hissed, vehement, and was overjoyed and shamefully comforted when instead of taunting or hurdling it away, the real Dorian allowed the metal coils to slip onto his fingers with a heart-warming chuckle.

  “So we're agreed!” He announced brightly. “You'll hold onto it for me!”

Clutching the object for dear life, he practically smothered it against his chest while scowling at the man- who did not seem even slightly unnerved in response.

  “Until the Archdemon is slain.” He grumbled, looping the birthright carefully around his neck and beneath his robes, where it had rested for a lonely decade.

  “I'd say you can wear it on the outside of your robes now, but I know you won't.” Dorian observed with feigned humour- Evallan could hear the bitterness there.

  “I must report to Marcus.” He decided, ignoring the rest, avoiding his gaze. “And you must see to your injuries.”

Evallan marched for his destination without another word, never looking back.

Deep within himself, he cried out against the impenetrable darkness.

READ MORE ON AO3

[writingcuredmyfrown]

The Sign

It’s been a long time since I wrote something, so I present to you my latest story. A tale, inspired by H.P.Lovecraft. 

Words: 1,843 - It’s a long read, so brew some coffee or tea, close your window and kick back!

I have always had a keen interest in everything witchy, occult, magical, necromantic, mystical and supernatural. When I was a small boy I used to gather all kinds of stones, leaves, odd trinkets, twisted branches and other curiosities. Then I would take them to a small room, next to the attic of my father’s old house, where I would experiment with them, chant verses I had read in old poetry books, color them with different pigments, submerge them in water etc. Now that I look back on those years, I realize that I wasn’t looking for something, or expecting results, but that I just loved doing it. I was drawn to the process, to the interaction with the object. It pulled me, gripped me, at points I even felt enthralled by it. 

Naturally, when I saw the advert in the newspaper, I immediately boarded the first train for Akshalam. Lately, my life has consisted of endless travel from place to place, all across this wasteland of a country. I’ve found many things of suspicious origin, trinkets with questionable properties, and tomes upon tomes with knowledge, long forgotten and obsolete. You see, money would seem like a problem, but not here. Practically the whole country now deals in such goods, they’ve become the new commodity, the new big thing. Gradually everyone became if not interested in the mystical oddities, then at least interested in becoming rich off them. 

The train ride was silent. There was a nip in the air of the wagon, which left me uneasy. All around me were people just like me, treasure hunters, seekers of relics and knowledge freaks. At times, looking through the window, I felt as if this isn’t the world I used to live in. I went back in time, in my mind, and saw such things that do not exist anymore. I looked around the train and carefully scanned my fellow passengers. They were almost husks, dried out humans with no sense of place or time. I was wondering why the incidents at the docks were increasing, and why the police weren’t doing anything. It seems that slowly, over the years, this land has fallen from grace, drowned in some sort of dreadful slumber, which paralyzes the mind, but leaves the body untouched. I felt like I was on an island, surrounded by vast masses of ocean, with its deep and silent waters, ready to engulf me at any point. I kept staring out the window, I thought maybe, out there, lies something else.

When I arrived at Akshalam I sat down at a coffee shop to eat and get some coffee. The ride was almost nine hours, and I desperately needed to press on, I couldn’t allow myself to rest in one of those two-story hotels, with no windows and barely any staff members, apart from the person at the reception. I’ve stayed at such places once or twice, and no matter how hard I tried, I could never fall asleep. There was always some strange, ominous noise coming from within the walls. Screeching, scratching, twitching noises that wouldn’t leave my brain alone. When I had inquired about them, the only answer I received is that it’s natural now. It seems that most buildings in town have developed such an issue, and the residents say the only way to deal with it is to sing a verse from a book titled “A poet’s endless dream”, which calms the noises down, subdues them. 

After my little break, I went straight to the carriage station. I carried the newspaper with me, the advert was written informally, it appears the person behind it wanted the editors to not change anything. It said: 

“In the city of Akshalam, June Street, you will find me in my shop. I have for you a secret beyond your imagination. A scripture, found in a recent expedition in the Kaloma Steppes, which bears a mark of curious origin. Find me, and inquire about it. We shall speak in private.  Signed, Jazem Al-Hafar”

I showed it to the man, handling the wagons and he mumbled something inaudible. When I asked whether I could be shown the way, or carried there, he mumbled something again, and motioned me to climb on. 

The streets of Akshalam are narrow, with living quarters cramped close together. There are no sidewalks, only ditches and trenches, used for sewage and waste. Everyone uses the streets, be it on foot, on a bicycle, on horseback or in a carriage. Transportation and moving around is difficult, but at least you have ample time to see and observe your surroundings. As we were slowly making our way through puddles, mud and masses of faceless people, I felt many piercing gazes, fixated upon me. I turned around and saw children, many children with dark skin and sky-blue eyes staring at me as we passed through. Their eyes were cold, dead. I felt them sapping my life force, draining me of my energy, turning me into a husk. I quickly looked away and tapped my driver on the shoulder, so he would hurry up. He mumbled and kicked the horses, which ended up scaring a bunch of passersby, who then angrily shouted at us in a strange dialect. 

The long train ride, followed by this restless carriage ride had left me exhausted. I was now outside the shop. A small, crumbling building with clay ornaments at the front. It had a sign - “Jazem’s Sacred Grounds”. The door was wide open, the only thing between me and the inside of these sacred grounds was the fringe door curtain, a black and gold masterpiece of the oriental craft. No plastic, only the finest silk, adorned with precious jewelry and wooden figurines. I took a deep breath and headed inside. 

I stepped carefully inside, the scent of something burning, perhaps incense, immediately hit my nose. The inside was small, with barely any place to take a step. It was full of shelves, boxes, crates, barrels and drawers. Some of the were widely open, their contents protruding a bit. It was dark, the only sunshine coming from a small window on the left wall. It was so filthy, that there was barely any light, and the beams that did manage to go through, illuminated a bunch of bundles of herbs on the counter. I didn’t know what to do next, I felt overwhelmed. From every corner and every little nook and cranny, something caught my eye. Flasks and vials with colorful substances inside, rocks and ores with a faint glow, numerous mounted heads, upon whose horns hung tribal necklaces; a small bird cage, now empty, different plants with twisted-looking fruits, countless sheets of paper, scattered about, full of incoherent writing, a cat with one eye, slowly walking across the end of the room, paintings of people, possibly long one, paint brushes, canisters, trinkets, bottles, pouches, glass ornaments and silver cutlery, a long hooded cowl, hanging on a nail on the right wall, and many, many candles, now extinguished. I felt my blood pumping, my heart began racing. The child, which was locked away within me was getting excited, it felt drawn once again. That’s what I feared most, that I would be consumed if I took one more step inside this place, that my own self would capture and lead me to my end. I came so far for this, I couldn’t stop then. I had to do it, to trust. I saw a copper bell, covered in dust on the counter. I slowly made my way there, trying not to push over or break something, and pressed it. 

From behind the counter suddenly jumped a midget with a long beard and no hair. He smiled at me, caressed my hand gently and introduced himself. Jazem Al-Hafar. His teeth were all golden, his lower lip was burnt, and his eyes were dark green. I’ve dealt with such situations before, my visits have taken me far and wide, but this man was something different. His whole aura was different. I felt scared and alone, but I couldn’t resist. I felt enthralled once again. So I did as he told me, I followed him into the basement of the shop. We grabbed torches and went down a narrow corridor, which seemed endless. Soon, we arrived. There was nothing there but a table with two chairs, and a scripture. A few candlesticks gave the place an ambience of dread and decay. The scripture, I thought, it’s right there. He motioned me to sit, and he sat directly across. 

The scripture was now in his hands, the seal had come off, he unwrapped the paper and gave it to me in a ritualistic way. I took it with my shivering hands, looked at Jazem and then looked at the writing itself. I couldn’t understand a word, the letters were written in a language I’d never seen, and not only that, they were also moving across the page, shaking, twisting. They formed a circle and started spinning faster and faster. I felt the scripture wearing me down, it was too heavy for my hands, but I couldn’t let go, no matter how hard I tried. The circle kept increasing in speed, and within its boundaries something began emerging, another piece of writing, I thought. A sign. A sign resembling nothing at all, yet melting my mind the more I stared at it. I kept losing energy, the intensity of the moving letters kept increasing, and slowly the sign became a window into another world, or dimension. I saw many people through that window, the train passengers, the hotel owners, the coffee shop keeper, those children on the street, and they all had the same sign on their foreheads, glowing in bright yellow. I wanted desperately to break the scroll’s hold, but I couldn’t. The window suddenly became a mirror, and I could see myself in there. Eyes wide open, full of blood, swollen nerve endings, and an iris as black as night. Then, when I looked at my forehead, I saw the very same sign, in its bright yellow tone. I wanted to scream, but couldn’t. I couldn’t move anything, my mind was trapped inside a still body. 

And then, I woke up, head on the table. I leapt up and saw Jazem Al-Hafar right there, in front of me, holding the scripture, which was now sealed, in his hands. His golden teeth and burnt lip forming a sadistic smile, as he was stroking his beard. He took a candle and approached my face with it. 

“What do they call you, traveler?” he murmured.

I tried answering, but nothing came out. Nothing coherent, that is, only a mumble. A mumble, devoid of meaning and sense. His smile widened, he stood up and started climbing the stairs back to the shop. The wind was howling outside, and as it was making its way through the cavernous tunnel, it blew away all the candles. 

“Soon enough, traveler, all will kneel before the King in Yellow.”

[athenadcvell]

Hi cutie pie!! Can i request something where Bucky returns the infinity stones with Steve, just because he wants see his 40s sweetheart, the girl he promise that when he returns from the war they gonna get married, and now he can see her again he take the opportunity and marry her and have a dream family he always wants and dreams, obviously Steve and Peggy are part of the reader and Bucky life.

@thisisntmyrightera I am so sorry it took so long! I meant to get it done before school started, and then I got busy, and as soon as school started I couldn’t find the time to sit down and write. However, while pulling some all nighters, I managed to find time to fit in writing your requested fanfic as well! Hope it meets your expectations!

Word Count: 2,329

Warnings: None, just fluff tbh. Not even much angst (surprise surprise)

A/N: I’m not gonna lie, this was some pretty new ground for me. I’ve never actually completed a reader insert (I prefer OC’s, lmao) but this was a lot of fun! Enjoy!

REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN! LOOK HERE FOR WHAT YOU CAN SUBMIT!

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It was an average day. Nothing special. The funeral was over. Families had reunited. Even schools had begun the process of reopening. However, for a certain group of heroes, today meant everything. 

Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Bruce were gathered in the woods, far from civilization, ready to begin the process of returning the stones. 

"Steve," Bucky pulled Steve aside as Bruce and Sam worked on getting the machine to start up. "I know what you're trying to do."

"What do you mean?" Steve attempted to play dumb, but he knew. It was near impossible for the two to lie to each other. Bucky raised a brow, his eyes darting to the machine. 

"Steve," He said quietly, so Sam nor Bruce had to hear. "We both know you have no intention of coming back home."

"How-"

"As soon as you grabbed the stones, I knew," Bucky smiled sadly. "I'm not going to try to talk you out of it. Not this time."

A relieved smile stretched across Steve's lips. Permission from Bucky. Permission to go back and be with the woman he loved, without having to feel guilt about it. 

"But, I do have one condition," Bucky's smile dropped, suddenly very serious. Steve crossed his arms, nodding. 

"Of course. What is it?"

"Take me with you," Steve was silent at his best friend's words, not fully registering them. 

"Back to the 40's?" Steve raised a brow, just to clarify. Bucky's nod told him all he needed to know. "Buck…"

"I know what you're going to say," Bucky held up a hand, before Steve could object. "But Steve, you weren't the only one to someone behind."

Steve frowned, not quite understanding where Bucky was going with this. Until it hit him. 

Y/N. 

Y/N Y/L/N. 

The girl he had been in love with, that he had proposed to all those years ago. She had been a friend of Steve and Bucky, sharing the same art class at school. Of course, Bucky had never been too talented of an artist, but Y/N and Steve had bonded over it. Being friends with Steve immediately lead to friends with Bucky, and one thing lead to another. Next thing Bucky and Y/N knew, they were head over heels in love. It was a fairytale. 

Until it wasn't. 

Steve had sought her out when he had come out of the ice, along with all his other friends from his time. It had saddened him to find she had died in a car crash with a friend  fifteen years after he went into the ice and Bucky 'died'. 

Steve knew he should have said no. It was the responsible thing to do. 

But he was done being the responsible one. He spent almost sixteen years being the responsible and courageous leader. And where did that get him?

Banished from his own country. Losing one of his closest friends. Watching the love of his life die. Bearing witness to his two best friends turning to dust. Spending five years in a broken world, and in the end, when everything was fixed, the greatest man he knew died right in front of him. Going back to Peggy… that's Steve's redemption. That's his happy ending. Is it smart to leave right now? Maybe not. But Steve didn't want to use his brain right now. He wanted to use his heart.

So why shouldn't he let Bucky have that happiness as well? Sure, Bucky may be a bit different now. But in the end, he's still Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes, who has a quick mouth and kind heart. And Y/N… she would never turn him away. She loved him far too much. 

"Okay," Steve said quietly, nodding. Bucky's brows shot up. He honestly thought it would require more of a fight. There goes the whole argument he had planned. "Go get a suit from Bruce. I could use the help, anyway."

****

"That was hell," Bucky murmured under his breath as the Paym Particles bring the pair to their last destination: Brooklyn, 1940. Every single stone has been returned to its original timeline. Everything has returned back to the way it's supposed to be, and each timeline had fallen back into place. 

"Tell me about it," Steve agreed, running a hand through his blonde locks. "Why didn't anybody tell us Red Skull was the stone keeper?"

"They didn't know?"

"The guy was in every history book in every classroom. How do you 'not know'?" Steve rolled his eyes. Bucky laughed at his friend's antics, however, it quieted down as he realized where they were. Peggy Carter's home in Brooklyn. 

Steve looked up for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. This is it. The moment he's waited for for far too long. The dance he promised the girl of his dreams all those years ago. Inside that house, waits that very girl. 

"Go ahead, punk," Bucky grinned, nudging Steve gently. "Go be with her. Give her that dance."

Steve looked back, shocking Bucky with tears brimming his waterline. 

"You'll be alright?" The blonde asked softly. "Going to Y/N by yourself? You remember the way?" Bucky chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. 

"Steve, I used to sneak out almost every night as a kid to go and meet her at her apartment," Bucky smirked. "I remember the way just fine."

And it was true. He did. After bidding farewell to Steve, and promising to meet up with him later, Bucky began his adventure to Y/N's house, which was not all too far away from Peggy's.

The former assassin doesn't ever remember being this nervous for… well, anything. While returning the stones, Bucky thought maybe he should see his family first. His sisters, and mother, and father. However, seeing Y/N overpowered everything. He would reunite with his family later. Right now, he wanted to be with the girl he loved.

She thinks he's dead. It's only been a few weeks, after all. A few weeks since the news came out- James Buchanan Barnes, the Howling Commando to give his life during duty. Y/N, and all his friends and family, are currently mourning. Perhaps they've already attended the funeral, burying an empty casket. What will she think when she sees him? Will she be angry? Happy? Horrified?

Bucky's was different. He knew he was different. Seventy years of torture changed a man, after all. Would she still love him? His broken self? Would she still love him knowing the things he was forced to do?

It made Bucky's stomach uneasy to think of it. It made him want to take the last bits of the Pym particles and zap himself back to the future, back to Sam and a world that hated him. It seemed easier than the thought of rejection from the most important person to him. 

But his mother didn't raise a coward. 

Eventually, Bucky got there. He got to her apartment building, and walked up the flight of stairs, right in front of her door. It was easy to find. The door with the horribly painted flower pot, the homemade gift he had given her for her twenty-second birthday. Steve had tried to teach him how to paint it, to make it more 'thoughtful'. However, Bucky was never very artistic, unlike his fiance and best friend. It didn't keep Y/N from loving and cherishing the gift. It was still there, with small flowers peeking out of the soil. 

"Okay," Bucky let out a breath, clenching and unclenching his fists. "You can do this Buck. Just knock."

So he did. 

It seemed like an eternity until he heard a response. 

"Just a minute!" That voice. God, that sweet, melodic voice. How he's missed her voice, missed her giggles and shrieks of laughter. It made his heart yearn for Y/N to open the door, to stand there and realize her fiance was back. 

As soon as the door creaked open, Bucky couldn't help the tears from flowing over his ocean eyes. There she stood, in all her beauty. She wasn't wearing anything special. A simple, pale blue dress, not a bit of make-up, and her H/C locks piled into a ponytail at the top of her head. 

But to him? It was like looking at a goddess, and it made his heart overwhelmed with feelings. 

"Can I help you?" She asked sweetly, pursing her lips. Of course she wouldn't recognize him. 

The beard, the hair, and the stress lines indented into his skin. Not to mention the clouds covering his once bright blue eyes… Bucky looked completely different. 

"Y-Y/N," Bucky cleared his throat, his voice still cracking from the tears. He doesn't have to say anything more, as her E/C eyes widen in realization. 

Bucky expected her to be angry. He expected her to scream, and yell, and hit him in rage. In rage over the fact that he had not come home all this time, when he was alive. 

Or he expected shock. For Y/N to freeze in her spot, and shake her head. To be terrified that her very dead fiance was standing in front of her, aged and broken. 

What she did instead shocked him. 

"Buck," Y/N whispered in a small voice. Bucky had to strain to hear her. Her face crumbled into tears as she cupped his cheek gently, her thumb stroking his face. Bucky melted into it, grasping her arm to keep her from moving it. "You're home."

And he was. Years, no, decades, he spent under Hydra's rule. Almost a century of torture and murder, an uncountable amount of blood on his hands. But here? Here, in Brooklyn, the love of his life caressing him? That was home. That would always be home. 

"I'm home," Bucky nodded in confirmation, lips trembling. He doesn't want to make any sudden movements. Not yet. She needed to process all this. 

Y/N took a slow step forward, lowering her hand to grasp his. That was when she felt the hardness under his right hand. 

Bucky didn't stop her from prying off the glove, but his heart beat at an unhealthy pace as she did. He waited for the flinch, and look of horror. The one that always was there when someone saw the mutation. 

Y/N didn't flinch. She didn't back away in fear. Instead, she gently slid her fingers through his, feeling the cool metal in her palm. She slipped his other hand from his flesh one and ran it against his beard, and through his long locks of hair. 

"You're different," She said quietly, E/C eyes peering up through thick lashes, meeting his ocean ones. A small but teary smile stretched across her lips. "But you're still Bucky."

It didn't feel like one of their other kisses. It didn't feel like their first one, or when they would say hello or goodbye. Or the kiss when Bucky had to leave for the army. Not even the engagement kiss could do this one justice. 

Words couldn hardly even begin to describe this kiss. As soon as her lips brushed against his, it was as if a weight had been lifted off Bucky's shoulders. The guilt and remorse, the pain and dark thoughts that always lingered… they drifted off into space, and left him here, with her. There was no Winter Soldier, or Thanos, or Hydra. There was only Y/N. 

And that was all he needed. 

***

"What about… Ruby?" 

"Oh God, no."

"What's wrong with Ruby?"

"A girl who called my hair ugly in fifth grade was named Ruby. How about Taylor?"

"Like Taylor Swift?"

" … who?"

"Nevermind. Say another one."

"Oh!" Y/N held a finger up, still being careful to keep her voice down. "What about Samantha? We can nickname her Sam for-"

"No!" Bucky cut her off quickly, shaking his head. Y/N slaps his arm, holding a finger to her lips. 

"Shh! You're going to wake her," She hissed, both of them peering down to see if they had woken the referred individual up. 

'Her' being the tiny bundle in Y/N's arms. Their newly born baby girl. 

It felt like just yesterday Bucky had reunited with Y/N. It all happened so quickly. Hugging his parents and sisters for the first time in eighty years. Planning the wedding. Marrying the love of his life. Trying for three years to have a child. Finding out they were going to be parents. And now. Sitting in the hospital room, holding the newest addition to the Barnes family in their arms. 

She was so tiny, to Bucky. He had been scared to hold her at first, given how small she was. It wasn't that he wasn't good with children, because Bucky was in fact an expert with them. Having three younger sisters happens to do that to a person. However, she was so small. He didn't remember babies being this small. 

But the second the doctor handed her to him, and her E/C eyes pried open and peered up at him… his heart filled with love for this unbelievably tiny human being. This tiny human being who he had helped make. 

"What about B/N B/M/N?" Bucky asked softly, running a hand against his daughter's thin brown locks of hair. Y/N looked up, a beaming smile on her face. 

"Oh my God, Buck!" She tucked a strand of his hair that had escaped from his ponytail away. "That's' perfect, I love it."

Both gazed back down at their baby, who was sleeping peacefully, tucked away within the soft purple fabric of her blanket. 

The serenity only lasted for a moment as a loud knock echoed behind the door. 

"Come in," Bucky called raising a brow. However, it formed into a smile as four familiar figures pile into the room. 

"Hey," Steve gave them a small wave, holding the door open for the rest of his family. "Are we the first one's here?"

"You are," Y/N smiled, giving Peggy a soft greeting as she rushed up to her. 

"Oh, she's beautiful," Peggy held a hand against her heart as B/N's eyes began to open from her slumber. 

"Everyone," Bucky scooped up his child, holding her tightly against his chest. "I'd like you to meet B/N B/M/N Barnes. Our daughter."

"She kind of looks like a potato."

"Samuel!" Peggy's snapped at her six year old, eyes wide at his comment. 

"But she kind of does," His twin agreed, giggling. Steve sighed, shaking his head. 

"Natasha, don't encourage your brother."

"It's fine," Y/N laughed tiredly, running a hand though her messy hair. To just the children, she added, "She gets the potatoness from Uncle Buck."

"Hey!" Bucky yelped, causing a string of giggles to emit from both his wife and the children. Peggy returned back to Y/N's side, already quite aware of the toll childbirth has on a woman. Steve, however, approaches the newly born baby in his best friend's arms. 

"She really is breathtaking," He murmured, using a finger to shift the blanket from B/N's soft cheeks. Bucky stared down lovingly at this child… his child. 

"I never thought I would ever get this," Bucky says softly, his voice cracking. "The wife, and the kids. I always thought my life would end with a Hydra soldier shooting me through the skull."

Steve gazed up, sympathy in his bright blue eyes. However, Bucky's sight rested elsewhere. On her. The one person who made all of this possible. 

"But here I am, holding my daughter, and her mother is the love of my life. It all feels so surreal… I feel like it's a dream and I'm going to wake up soon."

Steve laid a hand on his shoulder, smiling softly. "It's not a dream Buck. This is it. This is your happy ending," Bucky looked up, a fresh set of tears brimming his eyes. Was it? Was this all real? Was this his happy ending?

If so, Bucky couldn't wish for a better one. 

***

Or is it a dream....? 

Jkjk, I won’t make this angsty. Or will I...?

Hope you enjoyed! 

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