#literally an hour ago he was willing to leave them all for dead and now look at him

[bumblingbabooshka]

Processing some things

Also the fact that he's crouching with his hands on his knees is so cute to me for some reason?? He does this in another episode too - the one where Chakotay finds a symbol on an unknown planet...it's just so adorable to me. He could just lean down but no. Also of course his fingers are spread again - GOTTA utilize the whole hand whenever you do ANYTHING (if you're Tuvok)

[romanoffsbish]

Please, Don’t Go…

Yelena x Fem!Reader(Romantic)

Natasha x Fem!Reader(Bestie)

Clint x Fem!Reader(Step-Daughter)

Baby, Don’t Kill Him! (Part 1)

Yelena was curled up on a chair in the corner of your hospital room, listening to the taunting beeps of your heart monitor. Her mind was willing you to wake up, desperate to see your gorgeous eyes staring back at hers. She'd never seen you look so fragile before, your skin was cold and clammy, and it's more painful when she knows it was all her fault.

Clint quite literally had to carry her off the side of the rink after paramedics had carted you off to the hospital. No amount of words would break through the barriers her mind had put up. Kate was rushing towards them when he'd finally made it to his car, and after seeing the distant look on his face she'd remained silent, and wordlessly entered into the back.

The two expert assassins, who'd literally been engaged in a brawl with one another less than twenty four hours ago, now sit in relative silence, as they watch the rise and fall of your chest, and the jagged lines on your monitor.

———

"You need to eat..." Clint eventually murmured into the silence, as he tentatively approached the assassin with a tray of hospital foods.

"No." Yelena brushed him off, with a glare to rival Natasha's, but Clint isn't one to budge that easily.

"Listen kid, my daughter is rather frightening when mad, and if I don't keep you healthy she'll unleash her wrath on me. Then there's your sister, who will further haunt me for the rest of my days if I don't make sure you at least have a bite to eat."

"Not hungry."

"That can't be true, that fight was intense, and it's been nearly twelve hours..."

"I will eat when she wakes up."

"That's just unreasonable... Look, this isn't your fault... Y/N is stubborn, and strong willed, it seems you two have that in common. We were in the middle of a pretty heated fight, I know you just thought she was another tracksuit."

"Or Kate Bishop." She playfully grumbles, briefly interrupting him.

"Yes, or Kate." He chuckles, then takes the risk, and loosely throws an arm around her shoulder.

"My point is, I see the way you look at her, I know that you'd never hurt her on purpose, and she knows it too. She talks about you all the time, you make her insanely happy, and that means it's my job to take care of you while she can't. So eat, this isn't a debate..."

"Wow, you really are such a dad..." She playfully groans, as she appeases the man by grabbing an apple, chocolate chip cookie, and tiny water bottle off of his tray.

—

You groan as your consciousness returns to you, there's an immense pounding in your head, leaving you to feel as if your brain is being crushed beneath your skull. The sensation only seems to increase tenfold as you try to open your eyes.

It's rather blinding, as if you've been placed directly under the sun, but surprisingly there's no heat whatsoever. Instead, a chilly breeze, and utter silence surrounds you, which only confuses you further, and then you hear a voice breakthrough.

"Dorogoy, open your eyes..."

Yeah, you're definitely dead...

"We are on borrowed time, and have quite a lot to talk about Y/N/N..."

Your eyes curiously flutter open, an all too familiar face is smirking down at you, as a flurry of red hair cloaks your face, and fortunately blocks out the blinding light.

"There she is... Now, up you go." She cutely remarks before yanking you up from the ground, and apparently into a different scene.

You're now in what appears to be Central Park, which was where the two of you'd always spend most of your downtime together.

"The all white vibe was a bit too clinical, so I thought I'd make it more comfortable for us." She interrupts your thoughts, with the obvious answer to your minds wonderings.

"This is my mind playing tricks on me right? Like I'm dying, and it's showing me all my deepest desires?"

"Gross."

"Eww. Natty, no! I just—."

"I know dorogoy, I miss you too... Now, to answer your question, no. This isn't a mind game, it is more so the realm between life and death, where souls reside in limbo. You, my stupid little baby, died for about a whole minute, and your body is in quite a state right now. I'm simply here to see you because after I send your ass back, I don't think I'll get the chance again..."

"Why?"

"Well, I'm sort of trapped in this realm, bound to it by the sacrificial bylaws of that damn orange stone. So, when you actually die, and obviously make your journey downwards, I probably won't get the chance to see you again." She says, laughing rather loudly at the annoyed face she pulls from you.

"Asshole..." You grumble, slightly nudging her, then purposefully falling forward into her arms, and holding onto her for dear life.

"I never wanted to leave you guys behind Y/N, but I also refused to return to a world that didn't have my two favorite girls in it."

"It isn't fair." You sobbed against her chest, and she silently hummed out a tune, while giving you a moment to have your big feelings.

"You're right, but life seldom is dorogoy..." She relays to you with a sad smile on her face, as she wipes away at the tears staining your cheeks.

"Did you see why I'm here?" You humorlessly chuckle out, as you pull back and get yourself together as best you can.

"Yes, that was a lot, and it requires unpacking."

"Please, don't kill me, well—more than I already am I guess..."

"Oh, you talking about your relationship with my dear, little sister? I already knew before I died, I had actually come to briefly visit you before the lost battle. However, upon arriving to the diner I tracked you to, I saw you and Lena hitting it off. Once I heard the genuine laugh you pulled from her, I knew that it would be too important of a moment for me to interrupt. I mean, you being able to get a girl to laugh at one of your corny jokes? It was as if I had witnessed a miracle." She says, smirk never once leaving her face as she confirms your suspicions that she did in fact know.

Natasha always knows...

You slapped at her arm, as she laughed boisterously at the dig she threw your way.

"You say that like I'm not the funniest person you knew. I always had you laughing."

"I was your best friend, I had to laugh..."

"Mudak"

(Asshole)

"Your Russian is improving!" She gasps, as she lightly shakes you by the shoulders and you giggle.

"Yeah, perks of dating a beautiful Russian blonde." You beam as you stare down at your swinging feet as you sit beside her on the bench, completely missing the genuine smile that takes over her face.

"She's never had it easy Y/N, and I just knew if I let you two have your moment it could potentially be something beautiful, and that's something the both of you deserved. I couldn't have picked anyone better to love my sister, and I just knew she'd be perfect for you as well. The only regret I have is not being around to mercilessly taunt the two of you, well that, and not getting to hug you both one last time."

"You deserved more too Natty, so much more." You sobbed out once more, losing all former composure, as you threw yourself into her lap and aggressively cried into her shoulder.

She tightened her arms around your waist, slightly swaying the both of you in an attempt to soothe you. Much like she always used to do throughout the years, as you were navigating the world of heartbreak.

"Please, don't cry for me dorogoy, I lived my life to the fullest, knowing very well that it came with risks. I made many wrong turns along the way, all of which led me to the end, and I died at peace with that. I wouldn't leave you guys fatherless, and I wasn't going back empty handed knowing you and Lena had so much left to discover together. I lived an entire life while she was still held captive Y/N/N, it was only fair that I gave her the same chance. I knew she was safe with you, so I made the only decision available. I'm sorry for the hurt it clearly caused, but I'm not at all sorry for my decision."

As you listened to her, the flow of tears wasn't stopping, if anything it just fueled you on. In the two years that she'd been gone, you hadn't actually allowed yourself to feel the loss. Having always focused on everyone else's pain in place of yours. Natasha suddenly pulled you back from her shoulder when she'd noticed you gasping for air. She was genuinely worried that this will have some effect on your physical form if she didn't get you to stop...

"Y/N/N... I need you to breathe okay, come on, ." She tried, but clearly failed, as your lip continued to tremble, your head shook wildly, and your hands gripped her shoulders far too tightly.

"Dorogoy" ... "Detka"

—

Clint had left Yelena alone in the hospital with you, stating that he was going to switch out with your mom at the hotel she just checked into. This way a desperate Laura could come see you, and so that the kids wouldn't have to see you like this just yet.

"Just be cautious, my wife can pack quite the punch, tread lightly." Clint slightly jokes, before patting her on the shoulder and making his departure.

Yelena genuinely appreciated the fact that she was alone now, feeling like she could truly lower her walls, even if only just for a moment. Not wanting to waste anytime, she scurried to your side, and began to cradle your desolate face within her hands. Her thumb traced over your severely chapped lips, before she leaned down to gently peck them.

Her fingers then traced the outline of your face, as if she didn't already have your face memorized, and a whimper tumbled passed her lips. You've always been a light sleeper, so even if you usually fight getting out of bed, you'd always wake at the slightest of touches. She has always loved being able to kiss you into consciousness, but at the moment, your eyes aren't even fluttering beneath the lids, and it's breaking her heart.

"Detka,

It's me, Yelena, your—hopefully—girlfriend. I have to say, this is not exactly how I'd planned on meeting your parents..."

"I had a plan for this week you know, it was simple—kill Clint Barton, then pick up a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and drive up to spend the holidays with you and finally meet your family. I have wanted to meet them for so long, wanting to see who could've possibly raised such an angel. On the ice I was blindsided by falsified rage, that I didn't want to believe you. I was convinced Barton was a monster, but now I see the bigger picture, and I'm so incredibly sorry you got caught in the middle. I never wanted you anywhere near this part of my life, Y/N/N, I'm not exactly proud of it, but, it's also all I've ever really known."

There's a beat of silence, before she continues on with a story about her childhood experiences.

"You know, I've never gotten to celebrate Christmas before, well not a real one anyways. When Natasha and I were kids we were on a mission of sorts. I'd had no idea at the time, but the only part of Christmas I got to partake in was sitting by a tree. The boxes I had opened were empty, but I was young, and naive, so I didn't know any better. I'd honestly been looking forward to having my first real Christmas with you this year, I couldn't think of anyone more perfect for me to spend a magical day with. You need to wake up for me. I-I won't survive if you don't..."

...

"Please, Y/N/N, the life I've imagined for myself only works if I have you in it. Please, don't go detka, our story is only just starting..."

—

Suddenly your tightly shut eyes shot open at the sound of Yelena's broken voice. Natasha's eyes found yours, as she also focused in on the sound of her sister's voice, as she held you closer to her chest and swayed the two of you.

"...You need to wake up for me. I-I won't survive if you don't..."

A sniffle can be heard, a telltale sign to you that she's crying, and you can tell by the rasp in her tone that she's been doing it on and off all day.

"Please, Y/N/N, the life I've imagined for myself only works if I have you in it. Please, don't go detka, our story is only just starting..."

"Dorogoy, I think it's time you make it back, she sounds so broken, plus you don't want your to meet her alone..." She sadly chuckles out, while pecking at your temple.

"One more minute, please?!" You whimper as you smush your face against her.

"Okay, that's a fair request..."

...

"Well, let me say a few parting words... I believe it's time that you finally take Fury up on his offer and become a Shield agent Y/N/N. You're basically just a mini version of your mom, and while doing so, bring Lena with you. She should take over my mantle, but make sure she doesn't take my title, she can be like the White Widow or another shade of Widow. Please, take that poor Bishop girl under your guys wings, so that your dad can finally retire... Lastly, be careful with that ticker of yours, I don't want to hear or see you anywhere near this place for at least another fifty years."

"I'll consider it... I love you Natty." You relay, as you finally relinquish your hold on her.

"I love you too Y/N/N..." She coos, as a bittersweet smile takes over her face, and she cups your cheeks, then places a firm kiss to your forehead.

The affection makes your heart soar, your eyes close, and familiar woodsy scent floods your system. Her hands slowly drop from your face, and you feel a rather large gust of wind.

—

You're rather worried about opening your eyes, everything is rather dark, and the space around you is slightly warmer. Suddenly, your eyes fly open at the sounds of beeping flooding your ears, and at the sensation of your girlfriends forehead falling to yours, and her tears that fall upon your cheeks.

"Pretty girl, don't you cry, I'm okay..." You weakly croak out, and her body practically fly's backwards in pure shock.

"Detka?" She tearily questions, as her hands shakily reach for your face, and you turn to place a scratchy kiss to her palms.

"Yes, I'm right here sweetheart, and I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to stay, for as long as you'll have me, my damaged heart is all yours."

"Forever.. That's how long I want you..."

"Then forever it is." You reply with a simple smirk, and she rapidly kisses the entirety of your face before gently cuddling into you.

—

After an additional night in the hospital, and a very delightful—awkward—introduction between your mother and girlfriend, you're finally able to just embrace the holiday in all of its glory.

You're currently sat around a table in the living room of your parents house. The fireplace is roaring, you're lazily watching ahead as your mom expertly wrap the last of the gifts, your dad had almost immediately been benched to bow duty. The shaking beneath you makes you privy to your girlfriend's laughter, so that's when you peep open an eye to see your father fighting with a bow that's stuck to him.

An instinctive smile takes place upon your sleepy features at her happiness, followed almost instantly by a yawn. You're still not one hundred percent yet, so even though it's only 10:30PM, you could feel your eyes growing exponentially heavier as the time flew by. Not even a half hour later, do you shift in her lap to push your body further into hers, allowing her warmth, and loving embrace to lull you into a peaceful sleep. 

"Merry Christmas detka..." Yelena whispers into your ear as the clock strikes twelve, and she finally picks your limp body up bridal style, and bids your parents goodnight.

"Merry Christmas Lena..." You groggily slur out, as you roll around to snuggle into her.

—————————————————————

Taglist: (Tagged you if you commented as well)

@beenicejoy @d14n4ol @youralphawolf72 @padmeswife @me-uglypretty @immathinkerg

2,825 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 🥺

[mylordshesacactus]

The Fall of Canticle

This week the party arrives in Requiem, the capital city of the Spellbound Dominion, leaving the familiar safety of Suncrest for the first time and continuing their journey as they try to understand the strange arcane patterns surrounding them and head off what may or may not be the impending apocalypse.

Some backstory on the city of Requiem: About 50 years ago, it was a completely normal city called Canticle. At the time, a ragtag party of misfits (TM) operated largely out of that city--occasionally clashing with the ruling Council of Fifteen, exposing corruption, slaying monsters and fighting necromancers, battling demons, interceding with gods, having homoerotic sidequests, all that good stuff, for years.

One day, this adventuring party requests an audience with the Council. This is fairly normal. They are, by now, an established presence, and are powerful and respected in their own right. The audience is granted for next week.

No, they say. Now. Right now.

Three days, the Council concedes out of respect for their track record. That’s the soonest we can make time.

The party says: Now.

Eventually they resort to stunning or Charming the guards and literally kick down the door to interrupt a Council session. They march to the center of the room and say: Evacuate the city. Now. Tonight. We don’t have three days. A rift is opening in less than 72 hours and when it does, abominations will pour through from the Elemental Plane of Madness and seek to consume this world, none of which will matter because we’ll all be dead the moment it opens.

The Council hems and haws but the party has no proof and has pushed one too many buttons with one too many rulers in the recent past. They say they’ll make preparations to defend the city but will not do anything that will cause a panic. They say Canticle is stronger than they give it credit for. They do not evacuate. They will shelter in place.

In what would become known as the last miracle of the City of Song, the party goes door to door for almost two days, dodging the city guard, recruiting every seedy smuggler in Canticle, deputizing every criminal organization in the city with sewer-tunnel access or speakeasy boltholes or a guard rotation in their pocket to get civilians out--everyone willing to listen, anyone willing to leave.

They get about 50,000 people at least 15 miles away in less than two days.

On the 71st hour, the rift opens.

It will become known as the Rending. The sheer release of energy from the portal itself makes defenses and armies meaningless; they don’t even have time to feel pain. All that survives today of Canticle is the rubble.

The city of Requiem was built on its bones--to this day, Requiem is effectively irradiated with arcane energy still emanating from what remains of the rift. The ambient magic is, for the most part, harmless. It exponentially increased the number of sorcerers born in the area--which is a problem, because the entire ten-mile radius is a wild magic zone now--but there don’t seem to be any long-term health effects. 

It’s not a bad place to live, as long as you don’t set off a wild magic surge and turn your grandmother blue. Quality of life is high. It’s surrounded by fertile farmland. The city is rich in magic items--ANYTHING crafted in Requiem is more likely than not to have some kind of magical property.

The city is very poor in true faith. The gods didn’t save Canticle. A five-man band of adventurers did.

All but one of those adventurers died fighting back eldritch horrors, giving their lives to seal the rift. The sole survivor was the party wizard. The abominations were immune to arcane damage; he survived solely because he was completely incapable of contributing to the battle in any way, and was ignored until it was too late.

His name is Sebastian Wrighthall-Cooper. He was the son of a barrel-maker. He was made king by the traumatized survivors and remained so exactly long enough to pass a rapid-fire series of anti-discrimination laws, found a national public school system in the name of one of his dead companions, establish a Council, and legislate his role away into nothing but a figurehead and tie-breaker.

Today they call him the Bastion of Life. Ten years ago he stopped granting audiences entirely.

The party has just arrived in his city, investigating new instances of interplanar incursion, to find that nobody in the city seems particularly concerned or even aware that they’re happening, out on the fringes of the Dominion. 

And you’d really think that Requiem, of all places, would care...

[riahlynn101]

"History Repeats (More Than You Think)."

Written for Obscure-Dads Week 2023 Part 2

@daddecember

Summary: En and Izuku are brothers who have a dead father and a mother who abandoned them. Banjo-after getting a call from a concerned neighbor of the boys-finds them sleeping in an alley way. He takes them in.

(Now with an extended ending!)

Trigger Warning: Child abandonment!

--

They’re alone.

Mom hasn’t come home in weeks. The two thousand yen she left is long gone. En even budgeted it all out this time, but everything’s so expensive and his baby brother got sick and needed medicine, which ate up most of their cash. 

He’s tried to reach her, leaving voicemails pleading with her to return. But she hasn’t. 

This is normal, he reminds himself. 

He stands in the middle of a convenience store, guilt washes over him in waves. His skin feels too hot, like he’s burning up. The cashier-a frail old man-eyes him and his messenger bag with an air of suspicion. 

En manages a smile. 

The bell over the door chimes, and the cashier turns to greet the new customer. En ignores their conversation, going down a random aisle. 

For Izuku , he thinks to himself. I’m not a bad person for doing this; we’ll starve if I don’t. 

His skin burns a little hotter. Steam rises from En, giving him cover. He listens to the cashier and customer panic. Lucky for them, this time it’s just water vapor. Non toxic but harder to clear out. 

Not wasting a second longer, En scoops anything and everything off the shelves. He stuffs packets of ramen, bottles of juice, chips, medicine of all kinds, and even some toys into his bag. The steam has started to lessen by this point, and the cashier has likely already called the cops. So, he only has a few more minutes to clear out. 

He runs by the adults who are still swatting at the air around them. They pay him no mind at all, too preoccupied with finding the cause of the “smoke.”

Outside, En doesn’t stop running until his apartment building is within sight. He takes the stairs two at a time, as the elevator creeps him out. It’s old and some of his neighbors joke it hasn’t been replaced since the dawn of the age of quirks. 

En can’t tell if they’re joking or not, but he’s not willing to chance it. Not when he has someone relying on him to come home. He isn’t mom and dad. 

“En, child, has your mother come home yet?” He turns to address his elderly neighbor, Naomi. A middle-aged, muscular woman with hair that changes colors depending on the sky. Quite literally too, she possesses a quirk that reacts to the level of moisture in the air (kind of like his, except her’s utilizes it in a different way) and changes her hair color depending on the different levels. Today, her hair is a calming blue with flecks of white here and there. 

She’s the only one that seems to notice that they’re all alone. But if he tells her how bad things have gotten-that the water and electricity has been off for over a week, which means most of the leftovers they had in the fridge spoiled. Which means they can’t bathe, so En has to use bottled water to wash him and his brother. Which means he has to conserve the last little bit of battery on their phone, just in case their mom calls them. Which means they’ve been going to bed an hour earlier because the only way they can look at the time is through the phone but that uses up its battery. And going out to find places to lessen the load is hard to, because he’s too young to get the help they need to survive, and taking Izuku with him only makes things worse. This isn’t even mentioning that rent was due three days ago, and the landlord has been hounding them for the money he’s due-Izuku and him might get separated. 

He’s heard horror stories about the system. As bad as their situation is right now, it could become a whole lot worse. At least, right now, they have each other. 

He smiles at her. “I’m fine Mrs. Naomi, thank you.” 

The worry lines in her forehead unwrinkled just a little. She purses her lips together. Her eyes go to his overfilled messenger bag. “....Okay, sweetheart, but let me know if you two need anything.”

He nods. 

The minute En steps into the apartment, he drops to his knees. He throws his messenger bag off, feeling it weigh him down. He allows himself to cry, the sounds of kids playing outside a reminder of what he and his brother have lost. 

He lays his head on the carpeted floor. Idly he plays with the fabric, running his fingers over it. Eventually Izuku and him will have to leave the safety of the apartment. The landlord will call the police, and by then they’ll need to be long gone. 

En turns onto his back. He stares up at the water-stained ceiling. His brother should still be taking a nap, so he can spare a few minutes to rest. 

It didn’t always used to be like this. En remembers when they were all a happy family. But then his stupid dad had to go and get himself….

Tears prick the corners of his eyes. It…doesn’t matter anymore, because their dad is never coming back. 

En feels his eyelids grow heavy. The racing of his heart calms to a slow, steady beat. All the excitement of his latest haul has completely exhausted him. 

Before En knows it, he’s asleep.

-x-x-x-

En wakes up to a pudgy, little finger poking his cheek. “Nii-Chan?” His little brother asks. 

He cracks an eye open. Izuku’s kneeled down next to him, he’s worrying his bottom lip and using his one free hand to grasp onto En’s sweater. It’s a familiar sight. Unfortunately, they both seem to have inherited their father’s neurosis. 

He forces himself to sit up. His brother follows the motion, leaning into his space. 

“Hey, Izuchan. Hungry?” 

His brother nods, looking at the bags of chips and packages of ramen that have spilled onto the floor. 

“Great! ‘Cause I got us a bunch of food, but we have to save some of it for this week,” En carefully explains. “Okay?”

“Okay, Nii-Chan.”

That night they eat broken up, dried ramen, sprinkled with the seasoning packet.

-x-x-x-

A few days later, En packs two backpacks. One for him and a smaller one for his brother. He packs a few changes of clothes, as much food and water as he can, some mementos, and a toy or two to keep his brother entertained. 

It’s hard saying goodbye to the apartment. It’s the only home Izuku and he have ever known, but it’s time to move on. The landlord had yelled through the door last night that he was calling the police today. 

No amount of memories and nostalgia is worth being put in the system.

He ties Izuku to his front with a blanket. An old practice mothers use to carry around their children, though usually they tie them to their back. It’s kind of hard, and he almost drops his brother while securing the blanket in place, and then, he very nearly falls forward when trying to retrieve his own backpack. 

He tapes a note to Mrs. Naomi’s door. The woman has been nothing but kind to them, and En would hate for her to think they’ve been kidnapped. 

They’re long gone before the sunrises. 

-x-x-x-

Later that morning, leaving her apartment, Naomi sees a note taped to her door. It reads:

Dear Mrs. Naomi, 

Izuku and I have to leave now. Our parents aren’t coming back, and the rent’s been due for awhile now. It’s for the best that we move on. I wanted to thank you for being nice to us! Sorry I didn’t tell you how bad things were. I thought I had things handled :(

Thank you for being kind, 

En 

She drops the note, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. Those poor boys! How could she not have contacted him sooner? If she had, then they wouldn’t have had  to survive on their own. 

After she calms down, picking the note up and sliding it into a drawer, Naomi calls an old friend. 

“Hi, it’s Naomi Aoki. I hope you’re doing well. I know it’s sudden, but I do have a favor to ask of you….”

-x-x-x-

En walks for what feels like, hours upon hours. His little brother slumbers periodically, heading bouncing off his shoulder. People give them strange looks, whispering to each other, but seem otherwise unwilling to lend assistance. Typical. 

Eventually, he has to rest. He goes into an alley. It’s midday, so En’s not as wary about potential dangers. Though, it wouldn’t hurt to remain vigilant and move before dusk.

He sits up against the cool brick wall; his little brother is still attached to him by a blanket. Together they rest.

-x-x-x-

“-id?” Someone calls, sounding faraway. “Kid…?” The person pokes his face. 

En jerks awake.

It’s nearly dark out, casting the alley into near pitch-blackness. How long had he been asleep? Heart hammering in his chest, he sends a glance downward. To his immense relief, his baby brother looks back at him, oblivious to the distress the older boy is under. 

“Kid?” The person says again.

En looks up at them. 

A large, bald man with the weirdest taste in fashion he’s ever seen, hovers over him. His eyes are soft, looking at them with some semblance of pity. 

He hates that. He hates that so much.

“We’re fine,” he snaps, pulling himself into a standing position. Or, at least, trying to. It’s kind of hard with the excess weight on his front. 

The man doesn’t answer, just helps En readjust and stand up straight. “Your neighbor, Naomi, asked me to find you two.” He bends down. “How long have you been out here?”

En squints his eyes. He really shouldn’t be talking to a stranger, but he seems nice. Childishly, he hopes the man will help them. It’s this childishness that wins out and indulges the man to some answers. 

“Uh….” he tries to think back. “What day is it?”

“That’s all I need to know.” He takes a cloth out of his jacket pocket. Carefully he reaches over to wipe at En’s face. “Your face is a little dirty. Hope you don’t mind me cleaning it.”

En’s too shocked to do anything besides nod his head. The gesture is gentle and….nice….

“Nii-Chan,” Izuku whines, little legs digging into his sides. “Who’s that?”

The man chuckles. “I’m a pro hero-”

At those magic words, En’s and his brother’s eyes go wide. They glance at each other, wordlessly carrying on an entire conversation. 

“Really!?” En asks. “That’s soooo cool! Me and my brother love heroes! What’s your hero name?”

“Lariat.”

“Oh, like the rope?”

The man, Lariat, laughs at that. “Yeah, kid, just like the rope. But you can call me Daigoro, or Banjo. Doesn’t matter to me, as long as you don’t call me late to dinner.” 

En stares blankly at Lariat, or Banjo, or Daigoro (there’s too many names to keep track of). Even Izuku, who once laughed at his own reflection in a spoon, is completely silent. 

“Sorry, bad joke.” he claps his hands. “Anyways, I’m here to take you both somewhere safe.”

“Where’s that?” En asks, warily eyeing the man’s movements. One hand remains firmly on his brother’s head, shielding him in the event that Lariat is actually insane. 

“My place!” Lariat says with way too much enthusiasm (though, En is starting to suspect that might just be his default).

En follows Lariat out of the alleyway, clutching his baby brother close. His back aches, likely from a mix of carrying Izuku and the heavier backpack, but he can’t bring himself to put his brother down. 

“Where’s that?” He asks.

“It’s a few cities away, Musutafu. It’s nice there, you’ll like it.” 

There’s no one outside the alley, the city winding down from the day. It feels surreal, like a liminal space that knows no bounds and isn’t beholden to the laws of their reality. The orange glow from the street lights aren’t helping matters. 

“How are we going to get there? I don’t think the buses operate this- hey!”

A tentacle-like appendage wraps around his chest, sending him flying right into Lariat’s arms. He goes to tighten his (ever-increasing) hold on Izuku, except the appendage has already beaten him to it - wrapped securely around both of them, keeping them safe. 

“Is-is that your quirk?” En asks, heart thundering in his chest. 

“Black whip!” Lariat announces, jovially. “It’s very versatile! I can stop criminals and save civilians at the exact same time.”

Still in shock, he nods. 

At least his baby brother seems to enjoy being thrown through the air. Kind of. It’s a little hard to tell the difference between squeals of joy and squeals of terror, especially when his heart refuses to calm down. 

“It takes some getting used to, but I’m sure you’ll get there. It’s a very inexpensive way to travel, not to mention fun!”

En has hardly processed the strange man’s words, before the weightless feeling returns. 

-x-x-x-

Somewhere between the city he’s grown up in and Musutafu, En falls back asleep. The constantly being thrown through the air, tucked against Lariat’s chest, isn’t that hard to get used to. If he ignores the gnawing anxiety surrounding heights and sudden drops, he kind of likes it. 

It’s been a long time since he’s been held. 

Longer still since anyone’s made him feel just the tiniest bit safe.

Mixed with the familiar chatter of city life, it doesn’t take long for his eyes to grow heavy and head to loll forward, bumping against Izuku’s mess of curls. 

-x-x-x-

En wakes up on a bed, alone. Morning light blinds him when he opens his eyes. He groans, sitting up. Stretching his arms high above his head, he takes in his surroundings. 

This isn’t mom and dad’s room…?

There’s not the tell-tale picture of their small family collecting dust on his dad’s nightstand, the heavy scent of rose perfume, mom likes to douse herself in, or the ever-growing pile of laundry in the furthest most corner of the room. 

This room is larger, less familiar, but somehow more homey-feeling. 

He slides off the bed, still dressed in his clothes from yesterday. If he remembers right, a strange, very energetic man in a leather jacket took him and-

For the first time since waking up, En remembers he is, in fact, not an only child and panics. There’s no sign of Izuku here, so where could he be? He looks towards the door that probably leads to the rest of the apartment? House? A cabin in the woods? 

He isn’t one hundred percent sure where they are, just that it isn’t familiar. 

En creeps to the door, steadying himself to face Lariat and run away. Coming here was a giant mistake. His parents taught him better than accepting a stranger’s invitation to go home with them. He can just picture his mom’s scathing words and even more scathing look for getting him and his brother into this mess. 

What if Lariat is a human trafficker?

He worries his bottom lip, hand hovering over the doorknob. 

What if he’s a serial killer? Or worse…..

His thoughts trail off, not wanting to finish that particular thought. Better not to think about that unless it happens. 

His hand makes contact with the doorknob-

The door suddenly opens, slamming right into En. He hits the wall, falling on his side. “Hey, kid- Oh, no! Are you okay?” Lariat kneels down next to him. He helps him sit up, gingerly brushing En’s bangs back. “Sorry, kiddo, didn’t see you there.”

Tears prick the corners of his eyes, his body aches badly, but he really, really doesn’t want to look like a baby. He sniffles, forcing himself to nod. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“I hit you pretty hard with the door. Do you want some ice?” Lariat eyes him nervously, panic clear in his eyes. 

“No, I’m okay.”

The man doesn’t look convinced, but he backs off anyways. He helps En up. “Okay, but let me know if you need anything for the pain. I came in here to tell you breakfast is done. Your brother has been eyeing the pancakes, so if you want any I would get to the kitchen fast.”

“Oh, you made us breakfast…?” He asks, an odd feeling welling up in his chest. 

“Yep!”

-x-x-x-

In the kitchen, En breathes in the heavenly scent of bacon and pancakes. After making sure his brother’s food is cut up into manageable pieces, he takes a single pancake and piece of bacon for himself. 

As delicious as everything smells, it would be rude of him to eat more than his fair share. 

They all sit together-Lariat (“you can call me Banjo, kiddo!”), his baby brother, and he-around a small dining table. In place of a highchair or booster seat, Izuku is seated on a stack of encyclopedias and phone books. He would think it is funny, but he himself has to kneel on a copy of Pride and Prejudice to be able to reach the table. 

“So,” Lar- Banjo starts, “how long have you kids been on your own?”

The question nearly makes En choke on his pancake. He finishes chewing what’s in his mouth before answering. “A week, week-and-a-half.”

“Do you have any extended family?”

“I-I think we have an uncle on our dad’s side, but dad used to say he's coo-coo for cocoa puffs.”

Banjo snorts. Seeing En’s confused look, he composes himself. “Sorry, sorry. When you say that, what do you mean?”

“He’s very clingy,” En says, shrugging his shoulders. Their uncle has always been a sore subject for their dad. It was one of the only things that could send him into an anxiety attack. Well, that and confined spaces. 

“Ah, I see. Well, I’ll try to track your mother down. Until then, you two can stay with me.”

“Yay!” Izuku squeals, smiling widely. Syrup stains his hands, face, and hair. “Nii-Chan, food! Yummy, yummy food!” He pats the table with his sticky hands for good measure.

“Izuchan,” he scolds, lightly (of course, because he could never bring himself to actually shout at his adorable baby brother), “look how messy you’ve gotten.”

His brother proceeds to try to see himself, eyes rolling up and down in an effort to see his own messy face. 

“‘Zuchan,” he giggles. His stomach gurgles, making him quiet. He looks down at his empty plate. 

Three more pancakes and two strips of bacon are put on his plate. En tilts his head at Banjo, brain unable to process what he’s doing. 

“Eat your fill. Plenty to go around here.”

Without another word, he digs into the proffered food. 

-x-x-x-

En stares at the bathtub filled with soapy water. His little brother hits the surface of the water with his palms, grinning from ear-to-ear. His wet hair sticks to his forehead, and he has to keep brushing the stray pieces away to be able to see. 

“Nii-Nii, look! Lots of bubbles!” 

He nods, giving Izuku two thumbs up. 

Banjo chuckles, sitting on the floor next to the tub. He pokes Izuku’s button nose, leaving behind some bubbles. 

It hadn’t been the original plan for En to go first, but Izuku’s never bathed anywhere besides their apartment. And he got scared when the water was turned on, hiding behind his big brother. 

So, even though Izuku was the messier of the two of them, he got out of bath time (for ten minutes, but ten minutes in toddler time is different from older people time). 

He sits on a stool that Banjo dragged in from the kitchen, kicking his legs. His old clothes were dirty, so he dug through their backpacks to find a couple clean outfits. 

“Here,” he says, holding an outfit out in front of him. 

Banjo murmurs a thank you, toweling off Izuku. 

-x-x-x-

“Are you sure you don’t need me to help?” En asks, shuffling nervously outside the bedroom door. His baby brother stands next to him, their dad’s old, light blue jacket is so big on him that it hangs below his knees. 

Banjo looks up from the mess of furniture parts. “I’m sure, kiddo. Why don’t you take your brother outside to play.”

He frowns. They aren’t as familiar with this city; the area could be dangerous. 

“The city’s safer than the one you came from,” Banjo reassures, probably sensing his growing worry. “I think there’s a park a few blocks away. Why don’t you take you and your brother there? Come back before sundown.”

En is hesitant to leave. 

What if they got hurt? Or Banjo up and leaves them? He doesn’t want to come home to another empty apartment, with a letter filled with excuses and a measly amount of money on the dining room table. 

But what if Banjo gets so annoyed with them that he locks them out?

In that case, maybe they should leave for the park. 

“Nii-Chan?” His brother asks. 

His train of thought is derailed; his brother once again saves him from a downward spiral. 

“Sorry, Izu. Alright, we’ll go to the park. But you have to promise you’ll still be here when we get back.”

Banjo freezes, putting down the instruction manual he was reading. “Where else would I be?” 

En still isn’t fully convinced; his mom said the same thing and look where they are now. But acting suspicious is not a privilege he or Izuku can cling to, so he takes his brother’s hand and leads him out the door.

-x-x-x-

It takes a while to actually find the park. When Banjo said, ‘a few blocks away,’ he should have asked in which direction. Backtracking aside, the park is nice. It’s fairly small and doesn’t seem to be that busy, which strikes En as odd - it’s three in the afternoon on a Friday, but maybe school doesn’t let out until later here. 

His brother giggles as he races for the jungle gym. 

Out of habit, En chases after him. “I’m gonna get you!” He sing-songs.

“No!” Izuku bursts into a fit of giggles. “Nii-Chan, can’t get me !”

“Oh, yes, he can!” He shoots back, climbing the stairs to the playscape two at a time. 

-x-x-x-

They play until the sky turns into a mish-mash of oranges, purples, blues, and pinks.The sun is barely peeking out of the horizon. 

En ushers his brother off the playscape (more like drags him off), and leads him by the hand back to Banjo’s apartment. 

Once there, both boys are greeted with a heavenly aroma of a home-cooked meal. 

“Can you set the table, En?” Banjo asks, finishing up on the fried rice. The pork rolls sit on a plate next to the stove, cooling. 

“Me, me!” Izuku shouts, stepping from foot to foot. “What about me? I wanna help too!”

Banjo hums, tapping a finger to his chin. “Hm….would you like to help me do the dishes after we’re finished eating?”

From his place, laying out the plates and silverware, En watches his brother’s face light up. He chuckles. Another thing little Izuku has taken from their father - his (almost) impulsive need to be of service. Although….

He looks down at the plate in his hands, staring at his too-pale, too-sad reflection. Maybe they both inherited that part of their father’s personality?

En puts the last plate down, just as Banjo places steaming platters of fried rice and pork rolls. “Thanks for setting the table. It looks…” he seems to mull over the word that would best fit. 

“Okay?” En asks.

“Mmmm….”

“Cool!” Izuku supplies helpfully. He stands beside his chair, unable to climb up himself. “Nii-Chan is the bestest at everything! ”

“ Funky! ” Banjo says, patting him on the back. 

En narrows his eyes, tilting his head to one side. “That’s….that’s good…?”

“Very!”

“Ah,” he says, falling back into his own chair. He hardly notices the presence of the countless books underneath him (keyword being: hardly). They’re still something of a bother, sharp corners of old novels dig into his thin, bony legs. But the pain is negligible in the face of the praise he received and the taste of warm, homemade food on his tongue. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs during a lull in conversation. 

Banjo smiles. “I’m glad I found you boys before-” he clears his throat, cutting himself off. His smile falls, turning not exactly into a frown but fairly close. 

“Banjo…?” En asks. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” the man reassures, though from the unsettled look on his face, En doesn’t believe him. “Just thinking about adult things.”

“Like what?” Izuku asks through a mouthful of food. 

“Ick! Gross, Izu!” En sticks his tongue out, face scrunching up. No matter how many times he, or his parents scold his brother for talking with food in his mouth, he never listens. 

“Taxes, mostly.”

“Ah,” Izuku murmurs. “Taxes.” He nods at his plate. Eyes serious, he glances over at En. “We have taxes, huh, Nii-Chan?”

“No, we’re too young. I think.”

“Ah, okay!”

En feels the ice surrounding his heart melt, just a little. Maybe Banjo isn't so bad. At the very least it wouldn't hurt to put some trust into the man sitting across from them, he is taking care of them. For his brother. 

All for him. 

-c-c-c-

(Continue reading here if you want a more angsty, ambiguous ending. Not posted on Ao3, because I wanted at least one of my stories to have a happyish ending :D The trigger warnings for this part of the story are: kidnapping, anxiety attacks, small children in distress, and referenced/implied death.)

Living with Banjo is not so bad. The man is friendly and makes sure they go to bed and school with full stomachs. And, more importantly, he’s always there when En and his brother return from school. (Well, Izuku’s more in daycare, but the sentiment is the same). 

After homework and a snack, En likes to take his brother down to the playground. It remains empty no matter the time of day, but he has to admit, having a playground all to themselves, is extremely cool. Sometimes he likes to pretend they’re kings or emperors of an exciting land. 

He hangs on the monkey bars. Izuku watches him with rapt fascination. “Go, Nii-Chan!” He shouts. 

En smiles, dropping to the ground in front of his brother. “I can almost cross all the monkey bars!” He proudly proclaims, pointing a thumb at himself. 

Izuku claps his hands. “Yay! Can you chase me now? Please?” His green hair flops over his eyes as he tilts his head. 

En sighs, throwing his hands up in a show of fake exasperation. If there ever comes a day where he doesn’t want to chase his little brother, then he’s probably been replaced with a clone, or a doppelganger, or….hmm…he tries to think of more things he might hypothetically be replaced by. 

“Ennnn,” Izuku calls, using the same tone he uses when being forced to interact with strangers. The name, his name, sounds weird coming from his brother. It’s abnormal and, in an instant, En is on guard. 

He turns to where his brother’s looking and sees a very tall man. The man smiles at him, waving. This is the first person they’ve seen at this park since they started coming here three months ago. And the fact that it’s a grown-up, doesn’t sit right with En. 

Especially considering there’s not much to do while sitting on the bench.

(Unless you consider sitting and staring at children a hobby….)

Maybe it’s his nerves, or an embedded, cultural need to be polite, but En finds himself waving back. “Hello, sir!” He calls. 

The man must take that as his signal because he strolls over to them, pace unhurried and unbothered. “Hello,” he says. 

“Hi,” Izuku murmurs, peeking out from behind his older brother.

The man glances at Izuku. His eyes widen for a second, but it’s so fast En almost thinks he imagined it. Almost.

“What are your names?” The man asks, kneeling down. His voice is sugary sweet, soothing, and deep. 

Izuku starts to speak, but En is faster.

“I’m Roku, and he’s Ku.”

The man tilts his head. An amused expression takes over his face. “Ah, okay, Roku and Ku.” He stands. “Well, six and nine, I’m Shigaraki Hisashi.”

That name is…familiar. Where has he heard it from?

Izuku squirms behind him. Apparently all previous apprehension is now gone. He slips under En’s arm. “Hi, Mister Shigaraki. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, both of you.”

En shivers, stepping back. As subtle as he can, he drags his brother back by the shirt collar. “Yeah….you too.”

Shigaraki-San looks around. “Where’s your boys’ parents?”

“Close by,” En answers immediately. “They’ll be back any minute.” Izuku gives him a confused look. There’s a tug on his jeans that he pointedly ignores, placing a gentle hand on his brother’s head. 

“Uh huh.” Shigaraki-San taps a finger to his chin, humming. “They seem to be taking their time, aren’t they?”

Izuku rocks backwards on his heels, obviously losing his battle to be quiet. 

“Maybe,” En says. “We don’t live too far away. If they take too long, me and Iz- Ku can walk home.” He doesn’t understand why he’s explaining himself to the man, but he’d do anything to get him to leave them alone. There’s something very, very wrong with him. 

“I can walk you both home.”

“No, we’re okay. We want to keep playing.”

“It’s no trouble, and the sun looks like it’s close to setting. You both should go home and eat dinner.”

En takes another step back, dragging his little brother along. “I said, we’re fine. Please, leave us alone.”

The smile falls off Shigaraki-San’s face. It’s replaced by a scowl. “I tried to be nice,” he mutters, seemingly to himself, before taking a step closer (with his long legs, each of his steps equals six of En’s, or ten of Izuku’s). “Come along now.”

En half-carries, half-drags Izuku towards Banjo’s apartment. He runs as fast as he’s able to. They’re still three blocks away, but if he can duck into one of the stores or restaurants, then maybe they can lose him. 

Strong arms wrap around his midsection. They grab onto Izuku and him, restraining them. “Come along now,” Shigaraki-San repeats, voice no longer sugary sweet. 

-x-x-x-

Shigaraki-San carries them a few blocks away before stuffing them into a sleek black car. Any attempts to call for help are met with a light pop to the mouth, a warning. And by the time they’re being buckled in, En has no more fight left. Not that Izuku is any better, clinging to his big brother.

After they’re settled, Shigaraki-San slides in next to them. He snaps his fingers, and En realizes for the first time that the three of them aren’t alone. Up front, in the driver’s seat, somebody sits, awaiting instructions. 

“Take us to the base thirty miles west of here.”

As the car starts, Shigaraki-San sits back. He looks at them, a fond smile on his face. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

En hunches into himself, using his arms to bring his brother closer and shield him from the evil-doer next to them.

Shigaraki-San chuckles, but seems to get the hint. He starts to small talk with the driver. 

“E-” his brother almost says his name, but stops himself. “Roku, what about daddy?”

En bristles at that. “That man is not our dad, Ku.” He makes sure to lean down, close to his brother’s ear, and keeps his voice quiet. His heart hurts as he says that, but it’s hardly been three months. It feels disrespectful to their real father’s memory - even if he did leave them.

Izuku twists away. “You’re mean!” He shouts. 

This draws Shigaraki-San’s attention. “Who’s mean?” He asks Izuku.

Izuku, with all the energy of a little sibling trying to get the older one in trouble, points at En. His bottom lip juts out. “Him.”

Despite the circumstance, En scoffs. Everything feels so wrong and weird and he feels bad for saying-

“I remember the days back when my little brother would tattle on me,” Shigaraki-San says. “You’ll miss it one day, but for now, do try to get along.” He turns back to his conversation with the driver. 

En’s mouth opens and closes. What- what just happened?

Izuku huffs, but leans into his space. “I still wanna go home,” he murmurs, almost too quiet for En to hear. 

“I know,” he murmurs back. 

They settle into an uneasy silence, listening to their captor talk animatedly about the weather for the upcoming week. 

-x-x-x-

At some point, he must have dozed off, because the next thing En knows, he’s waking up in a bed. This isn’t his bed at Banjo’s a-

He jolts upward. 

Memories come flooding back. The park! The man took them! 

He looks around the room. He needs to find Izuku, and leave!

His eyes catch a tiny bit of movement from across the room. Tufts of green hair poke out from under a comforter decorated with pictures of ducklings. 

His brother…..

….his brother’s okay. 

En sighs in relief. At least that mystery is solved.

But they still need to leave. 

He slides out of bed, and quietly tip-toes his way over to the other bed. Tentatively, he reaches for the covers, hands trembling from the amount of adrenaline coursing through his body. His fingers ghost over the blanket-

“Hello, En,” Shigaraki-San greets. 

A light clicks on, revealing the man sitting in a rocking chair in the opposite corner of the room. A book with more pages than En has ever been able to read in his lifetime, sits on his lap. He sits close to the door. 

Escape was never an option. 

“Who are you!? How do you know my name? I-I never told you that.”

The man shushes him, pointing to Izuku’s sleeping form. “I’ve been…hm….observing Izuku and you for a while now. Ever since my idiotic brother got himself killed trying to protect what’s his face?” He taps his chin, as if trying to conjure the name to his head.

En blinks. “What does that have to do with me and my brother?” Shigaraki-San might be crazier than he previously thought. 

“Everything,” he answers. “Well, mostly everything.” Shigaraki-San puts his book on a side table before getting to his feet. “I’m your uncle.”

En shrinks back. 

Wrong! Something about this is wrong, with a capital W!

“My dad told me you’re crazy.”

“Ah, Yoichi. He was always saying things like that.” He stands in front of En. “My little brother and I often had disagreements about what was best for him.”

En stares at the man’s chest, unable to force himself to look up (and up and up) at his piercing red eyes. “Our dad knew everything,” he says, with all the conviction of a child holding onto the delusion that their parents are infallible. 

Shigaraki-San chuckles, patting his head. “I’m sure he thought so.” He kneels down to be at eye-level with En, making it hard to avoid the man’s gaze. His expression twists into something more serious. “But he was wrong.”

En bites his tongue, willing himself to not make things worse. It’s not only himself he has to watch out for. He has no idea how crazy Shigaraki-San really is, and if even half the stories their father told are true, then….

…..then, he needs to maintain his composure. 

Shigaraki-San must take his silence as En agrees with him, because he continues on. (Or he just doesn’t care, which is probably the correct option). He sighs, placing a faux-gentle hand on En’s tiny shoulder. “My brother was….smart and kind and I’m sure he loved you boys very much, but in the end, he still left you both.”

En jolts back, as if slapped. It was one thing to think such things to yourself but a whole other thing to hear someone else say it. “No,” he whispers, bottom lip quivering. 

“Yes, En-Chan, he left you both and got himself killed.”

“No,” En repeats. 

“He got himself killed trying to protect….hm…what’s his name again? 

En shakes his head. “Stop.”

“Ah, I remember now. The “Black Whip” hero.”

Despite his slow spiral into hysterics, En finds himself blinking slowly up at the (much) taller man. “Do you mean Banjo?”

Shigaraki-San shrugs. “His name is irrelevant to me.”

“B-but my dad told me that knowing someone’s name is respectful.”

“Yes, I taught him that.”

“Then, shouldn’t you-”

For the second time, he shrugs his shoulders. “Like I said, irrelevant to me.” Before En can retort to that particular remark, his self-proclaimed “uncle” scoops him up and puts him back into bed. 

He’s tucked in tight, the soft fabric of the comforter tickles his chin. “Sleep-tight,” Shigaraki-San says, patting him on the head. He then leans in to kiss his forehead. “You both have a long day ahead tomorrow. Try to get some sleep.”

He leaves, though En remains vigilant, watching his brother’s sleeping form. 

Shigaraki-San’s words don’t hit him until later on, his eyes heavy with sleep. But Banjo-the man who took them in and seemed a stable enough environment-was the one who got their dad killed. In a roundabout way-if what Shigaraki-San says is true-then he's the sole reason En and his brother’s life has been hell. He’s the reason that mom left and hasn’t come back. 

With his remaining energy, En cries himself to sleep.

-x-x-x-

A city away, Banjo finds himself on the phone with the police. It’s like pulling teeth, slow and excruciating, to go through the proper channels. He knows he shouldn’t have left those boys unsupervised. 

All for One isn’t known for giving up. Yoichi told him that. 

The mind-numbing bureaucracy isn’t helping him any. And it definitely isn’t helping those boys either. He hangs up. If the police won’t do anything, then it’s up to him (both as a hero and unofficial legal guardian) to rescue them. 

If he remembers correctly, All for One has three main bases (Information on their whereabouts given to him second-hand by a dying Yoichi). It’s a toss-up if the boys are being kept at any of them, but he has to try. 

For them.

[lizziethebibrid]

2: With Methan?

ao3 link here

2. I don’t think I can do this anymore.

Things were admittedly not great. Ken was free, Lizzie and Hope had been hurt and Jen was gone. They had no idea what to expect, but they knew this wouldn’t be the last they’d seen of him. And judging by the fact that he’d dealt with the tribrid and a heretic like they were nothing, they were afraid of what would follow. 

Not to mention that Ben - the one who had warned and tried to help them defeat his father - had now for some reason apparently turned against them. MG couldn’t help but feel there was more there, but he didn’t know who to ask. Probably Jed, but he also didn’t think it was the right time since he’d brought Ben back dead only a few hours ago.

What he could focus on for now was the fact that all his friends were actually alive. After Cleo’s visions about destruction and hopelessness and how Ben had beaten them up, they were lucky they were all still standing there. And there was one person in particular he’d wanted to talk to ever since they’d been teleported back.

He’d been looking all around school for Ethan after not finding him in his room. He wanted to thank him, just talk to him about everything that’d happened today. He was getting a better handle on his powers, had saved their asses today and just… In the end of the day, he was the first person MG wanted to talk to when something happened.

He eventually found him outside, sitting on one of the stone benches and just staring into the darkness, contemplating. Part of MG thought he should probably leave, maybe he just wanted to stay alone for a while, but the other, bigger part, really wanted to get this off his chest.

“Hey,” he said as he walked closer. “I just wanted to let you know, you kicked ass earlier! We were all counting on Hope to save the day, but…” he stopped a few feet away. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

Ethan snorted quietly as he turned his head slightly to look at him. “I seriously doubt that, but thanks for the compliment.”

“No, dude, really,” MG insisted as he came to sit next to him. “I don’t know what’s going on with Ben, but he didn’t exactly look friendly today. You got us out of there, that was seriously important.”

“I’m just glad it worked. You can never know with these powers,” Ethan said, looking down at his hands, before turning back to MG. “I’m happy I got through for you,” he said with a little smile.

“You always come through, Ethan,” MG was quick to reassure. “It makes sense that you need some time to get a better handle on your powers, they literally came out of nowhere. I can guarantee you, no one in this school had any idea what they were doing when they first got their powers.”

“Yeah, but I bet they didn’t have to face the gods right off the bat either,” Ethan said.

And yeah, okay, he had a point there. “If you don’t feel ready, you don’t have to-”

“No, no, that’s not it. I’m doing this,” Ethan cut him off. “I’m not just going to leave you alone out there.”

“You don’t have to worry about us, we’ve faced powerful adversaries before. I mean, not exactly gods, but Malivore was new when we first heard of it so you know…”

“I know, but leaving wouldn’t feel right. Not after everything we’ve done, everything we’ve said…”

“If this is about our pact for Lizzie-” MG started to say once again, remembering how they’d promised to keep her alive no matter the cost. If it was up to MG he would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat to save the people he cared about. All the people he cared about.

“It’s not about that,” Ethan said. “I care for Lizzie and she’s been through a lot lately, but she’s not the only one in the school I would protect with my life.”

MG wasn’t exactly surprised to hear that. Ethan was a really good guy, willing to put his life on the line for the people he cared about. Even risk it to save people he didn’t even know. MG had seen it before on their short lived superhero spree and now that he had superpowers? He was even more committed to helping people.

“I know,” he said. “But I also want you to know we wouldn’t hold it against you. Lizzie wouldn’t either.”

Ethan sighed a hand going through his hair. “That’s not what I’m worried about,” he said as he got up, pacing in front of MG. “It’s just- We are literally going into a fight we have very little chance of winning. I’m not saying none, but you see that things are not exactly going great for us. And we’re all ready to face the gods and we don’t even know how it’s going to go and even if we’re all going to make it and I can’t just- It can’t happen like this.”

MG was really trying to follow, but he was pretty sure he was missing some important part of the conversation. “Can’t happen like what?” he asked.

“I don’t-” he stopped with a sigh, turning to look at MG. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“Ethan.” MG got up too, standing in front of him. “If you don’t want to-” he started to say, but was abruptly cut off by lips against his. He was momentarily caught off guard, but as soon as he realized what was going on, he kissed Ethan back. 

He never really thought he’d ever be given this opportunity, never really thought Ethan would return his feelings when they were both supposed to have a crush on someone else and now he had suddenly made the first move and all MG could do was just turn his mind off for the next few seconds about the whats and hows and just relish on the fact that one of his dreams was coming true.

Ethan was the first one to pull back, although they didn’t move that far away from each other. “I can’t pretend this doesn’t exist when I know we might not make it in the end,” he whispered.

MG knew he should say something and he had a lot of things he wanted to say, but he was still a bit caught up on the kiss and the fact that there’d been a kiss at all that he couldn’t really get his thoughts in order. “You uhm- you like me,” he said reluctantly, clearing his throat.

“I hoped the kiss would be clear enough,” Ethan said with a small smile.

“Yeah, no, crystal clear,” MG said and just tried to focus for a few seconds to actually get somewhere with this. “I was looking for you tonight because I wanted to talk to you. Not just about what happened today, I just… I want to talk to you. About everything. And if it was up to me I wouldn’t want you to be thrown into the supernatural world because you can see we’re a mess, but ever since you came to the school… It’s been great. It’s been so much better.”

“I’m glad I came to the school too,” Ethan said. “And I wouldn’t forgive myself if something goes wrong and we just… left things the way they were.”

And MG wanted to be realistic and knew that this was unlike anything they’d ever have to face before, but right now, he just- he wanted to live in this moment for a few seconds longer.

“So… what way are things now?” he eventually asked.

“Clear?” Ethan said.

MG smiled.  Yeah, he thought right before leaning in to kiss him again. They seem pretty clear.

[husbandomail]

I had an old idea just hit me over the head thanks to that Minamimoto picture I literally forgot my fave game ever somehow? With it being my home screen?

Gosh- 😭

Absolutely only if you're not overwhelmed and feel inspired but Joshua Kiryu from The World Ends With You finding someone messing with the Game(saving Players and helping them) and realizing they have the Sight like he did as a kid, maybe taking them under his wing, helping train their abilities like Empathy and the like while hiding them from the Higher Plane with Mr. H's help.

I actually am finally delving into that lore now through a self insert oc blog and it's so interesting!

Okay Ily, again only if you're feeling up to it 0 pressure lovely! ❤️

I HOPE THIS IS OKAY IT ENDED UP A LIL EXPERIMENTAL FGHNGFD

MANDATORY SPOILER WARNING BC TWEWY IS MY MOST FAVORITE GAME OF ALL TIME

Yoshiya Kiryu only believes in rules when they benefit him. The point of a game is to be fun, after all— he’s more than willing to turn a blind eye to certain things, as long as they’re entertaining.

That said, the survival rate of Players has gotten a bit suspicious over the past few rounds.

Although he’s not quite on Hanekoma’s level when it comes to sheer power, Joshua is so in-tune with the vibes of his beloved Shibuya, he immediately recognizes the subtle shifts in the tides. Some of them are natural occurrences of the Reaper’s Game, with Players imprinting and Noise influencing— and then there’s that one spike of Imagination that keeps surging near Hachiko. On day one, it may’ve been Players forming pacts; here on day three, though, it’s far too late for that to be happening.

Day four of this week and Joshua is perched atop the Hachiko statue, tuned to a wavelength that no-one else in the UG can sense. Almost no-one, that is. And from there, he watches. There’s a unified ringing of dead peoples’ phones, the remaining Players in the area all checking their screens— and one living person glances up in time. That energy pulses again, with you as the centerpoint. Gotcha.

Joshua stays there for hours, and so do you; as Players rush past to complete their mission, you reach out to them one by one, offering guidance that you shouldn’t have access to. With some of the things you’re saying— keypins, game masters, there’s a wall in Dogenzaka today— it’s obvious that you’ve been observing for a very, very long time.

It isn’t until someone completes the mission that Yoshiya hops off Hachiko. He’s invisible for the moment he lands in front of you, only to immediately tune himself to your line of sight— in that split-second, you freeze. He grins down at you. “I can’t have you interfering like that, doll. Someone else may notice.”

You’re not quite sure what to do with the man who materialized in front of you; he may look frail, but power rolls off his sharp body in waves. He’s clearly different from the other dead you’ve seen. But his smile is charming, even though it doesn’t reach his cold eyes; the knife-edge of his voice is much softer of a threat than you’d expected from someone in charge. And then you’ve blinked once, twice, and you’re sitting together in that cafe on Cat Street, the one that’s always closed.

Joshua— when had he given you his name?— swirls his cardboard coffee cup in his hand, but his eyes never leave you. He says something to the barista, but your ears are ringing too loudly to catch anything beyond the man’s name— it suits him. He sure looks like he’d be called “Mr. H.”

A warm drink lands in front of you, suspiciously close to your favorite. The scruffy-looking cafe owner leans against the counter; the frail man at your side rests his chin in his hands. They’re eyeing you like you’re on the menu. Through the buzzing static in your head, one of them manages a “We need to talk.”

That was months ago, now— the initial first meeting had, admittedly, been terrifying, but at the time you’d been the closest thing to a threat. You’d explained yourself, sitting there on the uncomfortable barstools of the closed cafe to men who seemed no good; Joshua’s face had softened the tiniest bit as you finished your story, and he’d nodded to himself. He’d let you go for the day— and then he was gone.

It was Hanekoma that told you Joshua had been the same, a very long time ago.

You don’t hear from either of them for several weeks. You’d promised Hanekoma that you wouldn’t interfere with whatever you saw; as painful as it may be to witness erasure, everything happens for a reason. This is part of something so much bigger than you could ever hope to be. 

And then, as you’re winding down after another late night, fluffing your pillows and running a brush through your hair— a knock at your bedroom window. Odd, given that this is the second floor.When you slide your window open, Joshua lands on the window frame, grinning at the surprise on your face. “Another Game starts tomorrow,” he says, tilting his head so the moonlight catches in his eyes. “Figured I’d better make sure you’re not up to anything on your own this time.”

It sounds a bit like a threat, but what it really is is an invitation.

[mosstliest]

fallen stars always plague the cold

requested?  yes  /   no

r e q u e s t :

Omg hi!!! Ur writing is literally *chefs kiss*

ne ways I'd love to request a c!techno x reader with the frostbitten lips kissing cuz like yk they live in the frozen tundra and im a simp also I'd love to be 🩰 anon if ur opening an anon list!!!

- 🩰 anon

prompt! - 27, kiss with frostbitten lips

pronouns used: they / them

c!technoblade x reader

fluff, angst? (past partners to rivals to lovers speedrun)

cw! mentions of frostbit . swearing  . eye talk bc I’m a sucker for eyes . mentions of past war

1318 words

Coming from L’manberg, where the most drastic climate event were the ever appropriate thunderstorms, it’s safe to say you did not take kindly to the everlasting cold of Snowchester and it’s freezing surroundings. Life in the arctic biome had quickly proven to be unsympathetic, but you’d never been the type to back down from a challenge.

It was on a particularly hostile evening that you found yourself walking alongside none other than Technoblade.

He’d found you in the rather compromising position of almost being killed by an enderman while trying to obtain the means to pearl atop the mountain and offered to walk you home under the argument of “I can’t be associated with someone who died in such an embarrassing way”.

You’d met him before --reluctantly considering him an acquaintance when he first allied with Pogtopia and slowly, between training sessions and long hours of potato farming, you had dared to call him a friend, after weeks of preparing for war, perhaps something more.  neither of you ever risked suggesting a title, but you’d proudly worn his enchanted armor to combat and stood beside him as the tyranny of Schlatt ended on an underwhelming note, the taste of victory still weaved with the bitterness of betrayal as you ended up battling his withers. You’d learnt your lesson and were not willing to forget it.

The two of you had been walking for a good thirty minutes and the silhouette of your cottage was still nowhere to be seen, a month had passed since you relocated to the vicinal hills of Snowchester and you still hadn’t learnt that the customary fur lined attire was never enough to keep you warm but instead of walking faster or rubbing your arms to scare off the cold, you decided to provoke the pigman. No better antidote for frostbite than a bit of entertainment, right?

“So, still on the business of betraying your friends Techno?”

The attractive clean-cut features of the pigman and his eternally stern expression never ceased to stun you, he glanced back at you with snowflakes sticking to his braided hair and no trace of a reaction in his face.

“Still letting everyone push you around y/n?”

Monotone, cold. Maybe the arctic had been the place for him all along

You could have quipped back, but there were so many things left unsaid between you, and there was still a long way to go

“I don’t let anyone push me around, I never have”

“aha”

Hot fury started rising up your throat, he was so unbothered by everything it was exasperating

“We trusted you, Tommy and Tubbo and Wil… we needed you Techno, I needed you! You were my friend and you betrayed me-”

The word friend felt foreign when spoken to him, but this was no time for introspection

“And you still haven’t learnt a thing! Be it Tubbo or Schlatt or even Wilbur, they’re the problem! The gov-”

You flinched at the mention of your dead friend and interrupted the man

“It never had anything to do with the fucking government Techno! We trusted you and you didn’t give a shit”

You blinked away angry tears and turned to face him, the frozen trail forgotten as you both laid raw statements on a creaking table built of long buried feelings

“Y’know, I always considered you the smartest of the bunch, guess you’ve proven me wrong”

“You are the one who hasn’t learnt! I’ve grown Techno, I have changed. You left our country a burning mess and you ran for the fucking hills! You never cared, you never...”

He opened his mouth to answer and closed it as you drifted off mid sentence

“That’s what you think? That I abandoned you because I didn’t care? They called me a war criminal! I’m a damn public enemy now y/n”

Furious tears ran down your cheeks leaving a frozen trail of bitterness

“I had no choice and I- well I wasn’t going to drag you with me! but I cared, I still do I think… about you at least”

A wolf howling in the distance was the only sound breaking the stillness

“You look cold, let’s… let’s just get you home”

“I am not cold, I-”

A particularly inhospitable breeze cut you off and Technoblade couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle at how you wrapped your arms around your midsection in a futile attempt to battle the snow, the usual threatening demeanor that had always intrigued the anarchist shattered and the softness underneath it nothing short of endearing. He could have stared at you forever, delicate and fragile under the northern sky, but your lips were turning blue and Technoblade wasn’t about to let all the effort of finishing off the enderman and walking up a mountain for god knows how long go to waste. Without uttering a word, he slipped off his red cape and draped it around your shoulders.

The red material was worn and soft and you let out a sigh of relief as the cloak started warming your body.

“Thanks”

Your voice came out a resigned whisper and if it weren’t for the eternal silence of the landscape around you, Techno wouldn't have been able to hear it.

You hadn’t been looking for closure, you had wanted to provoke him, fishing for a reaction, a quip or an insult. In some twisted way, you had missed him.

Everything stayed quiet for a second. his normally virtuous hand still stuck in mid air, barely missing a grasp on the fur lining his cloak. You’d never paid much thought to The Blade’s height, but now, as he towered over you, close enough that you could hear him breathe, you wished you’d taken Eret up on that platform boots shopping trip invitation years ago.

Technoblade was much less preoccupied with your height difference and more concerned with the fact that you were possibly the most enchanting person he’d ever laid eyes on. He wondered if he’d noticed before --while you rotted away together on the dimly lit cavern they had insisted on calling a nation--, how your eyes were prettier than the moon; brighter and fuller and bewitching in every sense of the word.

He wondered if a million multicolored polar lights would ever be as hypnotic as the coat of frozen dew that laced your eyelashes and made them shine like stars under the rays of the dusk. In a reckless motion, Technoblade reached his hand and wiped a stray shortleaf that had landed on your cheekbone, he watched in awe as you leaned against his touch.

Neither of you spoke, neither moved an inch, too scared of shattering the fragile tension outstretched between you.

Later, when trying to recall this moment, neither of you could decide on who leaned in first, but when your frostbitten lips met for the first time the world seemed to blur, or, perhaps, you finally started to see clearly.

Techno’s right hand cradled your cheek and his left traveled shy and trembling to your neck, carefully deepening the kiss. you melted onto his embrace with a small gasp, both hands pressed firmly against his chest treasuring the feeling of his beating heart against your skin.

His lips were ice and tasted like the night and his mouth was burning hot and desperate and his breath was shaky and the snow was falling heavier than before but it was fine, any trace of cold had long banished and the rhythmic melody of synchronized heartbeats melted the snow before it reached the ground.

You kissed for what could have been hours of long minutes or short fused seconds with no one but the stars and the moon and the ice as witnesses.

When you opened your eyes and looked up at Techno, his cheeks were flushed a dark crimson and he was blinking fast, all pink shadows and golden angles against the white. Lean and powerful as he’d always been and suddenly; forgiving him appeared to be a rather tempting option.

ANIME TECHNO GO BRRR

I feel like this came off a bit rushed but I really loved this request and wanted to finish it up as quick as posible.

Masterlist should be up soon and I am opening an anon list if you're interested :^)

have a lovely morning/day/evening/night <3

[astralwaifu]

hi i hope your having a good day!! so i have a request for you!! what about platonic dabi or toga x reader based on mad hatter melanie martinez?

hi! ok, but this request really gave me the chills, it’s so fitting for them, especially Toga 😭 Anyway, this is the fic that came out, I hope you like it!

combined with a request from @makizeninfan

Requests are open (especially the song fics ones)!

The craziest friend that you've ever had

pairing: Toga x Reader

genre: a bit of all

warnings: a little gore, nothing extraordinarily explicit, mentions of derealization, Toga is a little bipolar

a/n: I literally had two phrases left, but accidentall closed the tab and lost all the fic, so this is a remake. f me

Toga just stared tiredly at the mirror in the hideout’s bathroom and look at herself. She felt like her body didn’t recognise her, her skin didn’t quite fit her. It was too tight, too large, all at once. Her golden, cat like eyes observed her face slowly, but she didn’t recognise it. She always felt like this after transforming into somebody else.

Where were you, she wondered. Her hair was messy, refusing to stay in place. Everything was wrong. She needed you.

“My friends don't walk, they run/Skinny dip in rabbit holes for fun”

Just an hour ago you were running from three men. You turned around the corner of the dark alleyway, holding to your chest the small box with the enhancer serum you stole from them. “Stop running, doll, you won’t make it!” one of them growled at you from behind. Dead end. He was right. It was exactly like when a cat corners a mouse. No way out.

‘Where was she?’ you wondered to yourself as you stared at the three men in front of you that where approaching you dangerously close. “Take care of them” their leader hissed with his ragged and uneven breathing. In a flash of a second, one of the men besides him was down, blood slowly dripping down his tattooed forearm.

“We paint white roses red/Each shade from a different person's head”

Shock didn’t even had time to settle on the leader’s face, for he was also to the ground, a crimson stain starting to form on his once white shirt. The third man, the one who’d taken down the others turned to you. His face was pale, hollow cheeks and eyes. Nothing signaled any kind of life within him, except for the small drops of blood from his mouth.

You dropped to the ground, back glued to the wall behind you. You stared with wide eyes and an open mouth at the man coming towards to you.

His canines started to grow. “y/n-chan, we need to go”

“I'm peeling the skin off my face/'Cause I really hate being safe”

“H-Himiko…” you muttered, whole body shaking. You stared with wide eyes as Toga started to detransform, her old skin slowly melting away from her, leaving behind her normal form… “H-himiko! Cover yourself! Please!” you stuttered, throwing your coat at her. The girl only chuckled as she dressed herself. “Don’t worry, y/n-chan, we have other problems”. Toga looked at the two men on the ground, admiring the pool of warm blood forming at her feet. She couldn’t help but grin at that moment.

“Over the bend, entirely bonkers/You like me best when I'm off my rocker”

You got cleaned up after the mission. God, that Shigaraki really liked to push it further than it was necessary sometimes. All that trouble for some small vials with a quirk enhancer?

You couldn’t help but think about Toga. How did she feel, was she ok now? You knew she showed no remorse for the crimes she committed. The bloodlust in her golden eyes was undeniable, she loved every second of what she was doing. No, you weren’t worried about that. You fussed yourself over the fact that she mindlessly put herself in danger for you, willing to self-sacrifice. You wanted to beat that out of her, but you also couldn’t help feel loved and wanted. She on multiple times told you that she loved you and many from the leagues said that the two of you were like sisters, always attached to the hip. And honestly, how could you not love her back? Even with her psychotic and obsessive tendencies, she still held your heart with the selfless and real tenderness towards the ones she cared about. She was all you had at the moment, the only one who you’d know would never leave you…

“You think I'm psycho, you think I'm gone”

Toga curled up on your lap, resting her head on your chest. A loud sigh escaped her lips, as you tied her blonde locks in two buns.

“You hate me”

“What?” you uttered, stopping from fixing her hair. “What’s gotten into you, Himiko?”

“You must think I am a psycho and hate me. Don’t lie, I saw your face after I finished those two. People always make that face, I got used to it.” she childishly pouted.

“What face?” you questioned, intrigued in her strange behaviour.

“The disgusted one. The scared one. You are afraid of me, aren’t you?” she murmured. She was scared even if she didn’t let it show. The thought of you leaving her because of all the blood on her hands made her stomach turn and heart ache.

“So what if I'm crazy? All the best people are”

“I am not”

“Huh?” he looked up suddenly, her eyes wide.

“I am not scared. If I were, I wouldn’t be here with you. I wouldn’t enjoy ever moment spent with you and all the missions we do together”

“Even the gory ones where I …”

“Even those” you assured her smiling. “I won’t push you away, nor will I leave, I promise.”

She hugged your waist tightly, grinning ear to ear. She didn’t need to say anything, you already did.

And when you held her like this, her whole body felt relaxed, flowing away in calmness. She felt like herself again. Toga couldn’t stop thinking: she loves you, she loves you, she loves you… You were her favourite person in the whole world. Forget Izuku and Ochaco. Actually, no, she liked those too, but not as much. But she loved you, she truly did, not in a romantic way, but in an affectionate one. One that used to hurt her, until you managed to change it.

“Himiko-chan” you whispered “you’re my best friend, you know that right?”

Her heart warmed, full of that bright feeling of comfort.

“I love you too, y/n-chan” she smiled while snuggling closer to you.

She was indeed the best friend you ever had, the best, craziest friend you ever had.

Bonus:

“Himikooo, I got you somethiiing” you teased her.

“What! What!”

You pulled out a silver necklace with …

“A BLOOD VIAL?! WITH YOUR BLOOD?!” she started to jabbered.

“Yes” you smiled.

She was on cloud 9. You gave her a vial, even if she never asked you for your blood.

[volturiwolf]

Soulmates - A Demetri Volturi x Reader Imagine

A/N: This is the first imagine I finished and uploaded, and it came quite unexpectedly while talking with @volturidoll13 who suggested a Demetri Volturi one-shot where the reader would follow Bella and Alice to Italy and would accidentally say “wish he’d choke ME” out loud (see my post for reference). So, here it is. Also, I’m sorry if something doesn’t make sense. English is not my first langage. Enjoy :)

No of Words: 5749

Mentions of: Swear Language, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Dying/Death, Killings, Self-doubt, Self-consciousness, Kinky Choking, Sexual Arousal

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I think I had enough of Bella. No, I know I've had enough of her. She may be my best friend, the one who truly understood me the moment I stepped foot in Forks High School, beginning of last year, but this was just too much.

I have spent countless hours trying to support her when Edward Cullen left her, 5 months ago. I was there to be her emotional support, and even spent time with Jacob Black, an old friend of Bella's, who stayed at the Quileute reservation.

Jacob seemed kind of polite, although his attempts to flirt with Bella whenever he could were cringy, to say the least. But I supported her then too, trying to be sort of the third wheel / the one who tried to show Jacob she wasn't really interested in him that way.

His friends, Embry and Quil, were as nice and polite as they were beautiful. When Embry abandoned Jacob and Quil, Bella and I were there to support him. When Jacob abandoned Bella, I was there to support her. 

Even when Bella was sad, angry and desperate to know what happened to Jacob, I was there to calm her down. I was there when she went to see him and he turned her away. I was there when she slapped Paul in the face. I was there when he turned into a huge wolf, and I couldn't help but scream.

Jacob explained everything about the wolves to both Bella and I. He told us how it's part of their DNA; how they are meant to protect the tribe from dangerous outsiders; how the metamorphosis from human to wolf can be somehow controlled over time, with practice and persistence. THAT I could understand.

What I couldn't understand was how vampires existed in this world! It wasn't Bella the one to reveal that secret to me, rather Alice, Edward's sister. Apparently, she saw Bella dying, the day she supposedly went cliff-diving, which I told her not to, having a severe fear of heights myself.

Bella took the risk, and if it weren't for Jacob, she would most likely be dead by now. That's what Alice said she "saw" - she explained to my incapable self that, as a vampire, she had a gift, the gift of predicting the future, based on others' decisions. 

All this information was overwhelming me. I could swallow the harsh reality of wolves existing, but vampires, too? It seemed too much for me in such a short period of time.

Alice quickly explained some basics to me, like the fact that the Cullens were vegetarians, but the majority of their kind fed on human blood, as well as the fact that they even had a sort-of-government of vampires, residing in Italy, the Volturi.

She then turned to Bella to scold her about her recklessness and how she was prone to "life-threatening idiocy". I couldn't agree more with the short brunette right now. Bella has been nothing but reckless the last few weeks, and she was putting her life in danger for no reason.

They were talking about Edward or whatever, but I wasn't paying any particular attention until Jacob showed up. I decided to give them some space to talk, and Alice followed behind me, stepping out of the house.

Her face was a mix of disgust and worry, not paying any particular attention to me, probably trying to hear Bella and Jacob's conversation from the kitchen. After a minute or two, I heard her taking a sharp breath, her eyes fixating on nothing in particular; they were just staring ahead of her.

She took a sharp breath, as she regained consciousness, stepping quickly into the house. She walked in quite wide and quick strides, considering her miniature figure, and, though taller than her, I had some trouble following behind her.

She ran directly to the kitchen. "Bella. Bella, it's Edward. He thinks you're dead. Rosalie told him why I came here."

They both looked at Jacob; Bella practically screaming to his face, accusing him of not giving her the telephone to speak with Edward herself.

"Bella, he's going to the Volturi. He wants to die, too." The small brunette continued.

Within a minute, Bella made her decision: she was going to Italy to save her ex-lover. She promised us that she would just make sure he lived, and then, she would go back to her "boring" life.

Alice ran outside, starting her car immediately, as Bella was followed closely by Jacob, who tried to convince her not to go, pleading with her, all in vain. Bella was as stubborn as she could get, and nobody could change her mind. 

I turned to Jacob, without really thinking about my next words. "Don't worry. I'll go with her. I'll make sure she's back safe, okay?"

All Jacob could do is nod at me, though his face was full of concern, frustration, and he was clearly distraught by Bella's decision to leave him and save Edward. As if all this time she, Jacob and, sometimes, I spent time together meant nothing to her.

I jumped in the back seat of the car, not waiting for either Bella's, or Alice's approval. I knew it would be a huge risk for me to go to the vampires' lair, but I also knew that Bella could use all the emotional support she could get. 

As much as I hated Edward for what he did and said to her, I knew that he was everything to her, like her own little haven. Her own little oasis, which I guess felt more like a tundra, compared to Jacob's flaming hot desert. I rolled my eyes at my embarrassing thoughts, but I assumed that's how she thought of them.

The drive to the airport felt like a ton of weight crushing my shoulders. I had no place to follow them to Italy, as it was truly none of my business. But I promised Jacob, and though Bella could make me so frustrated with her lack of self-confidence and self-respect, I liked her company a lot, and I needed to make sure she was alive and safe.

In the couple of months that she came out of her apathetic state, we reconnected again, reminiscing about our unorthodox friendship, both of us being new to the town, shy and not particularly sociable.

However, Bella was the ideal friend to keep you grounded and connected with reality, which I, sometimes, had trouble with; my mind was running wild and free most of the time, while my mouth was staying shut. 

So, I was willing to go across the ocean for her, to an unknown place, in a castle full of bloodsucking vampires. I wasn't pleased, but I was willing. Willing to help her save her stupid ex-boyfriend, and hopefully not get killed in the process.

During the flights, Alice tried, more or less, to explain the dynamics of the vampire world; the Volturi, being this sort of government-slash-royalty of the vampire kind, were tasked with imposing their laws over the other vampires. Their most important law? Don't expose your existence to humans, unless you want to die. Well, there goes that! 

Alice had already talked to me about their kind; Bella knew through her association with both Edward and the rest of the Cullen family. The chances of any of us making out of there alive seemed slim to none. I was literally flying towards my death. Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool. 

I was trying to calm down my nerves, which did not work at all, when all I could think about were those Italian vampires. Alice told me that the vampire Kings, especially Aro, who seemed to be their leader, were interested in collecting talented vampires. 

So, it was pretty obvious that he would, most likely, get rid of Bella and myself, and would gladly keep Alice and Edward, who, as Alice told me, has the gift of reading people’s minds. So, we were actually doing that Aro guy a favor there; bring him the “talents” and get rid of the “intruders”, the humans. Great. Just, great.

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

We were currently on our way to Volterra. Alice had stolen a yellow Porsche from the airport’s parking lot, which neither Bella, nor I opposed to, for now. It was a fast way to get to Volterra, plus I’ve never actually been in a Porsche, and I felt pretty amazing. Alice seemed like a skillful driver, and drove pretty fast, which I liked, especially if I was the one driving. Bella and Alice’s conversation interrupted my thoughts.

“What? What do you see?”

“They refused him.” That was good, right?

“So..?” Bella knew there was something else behind Alice’s vision.

“He’s gonna make a scene. Show himself to the humans.” Why the hell, Edward?!

“No! When?”

“He’s gonna wait until noon, when the sun’s at its highest.” Bella seemed more and more worried and anxious, and I heard her heavy breath, which seemed like she was starting to go on panic mode. I stroked her shoulders lightly, trying to calm her down. As much as she deserved to get worried, given the events that led us here, this was not the time to panic.

“There’s Volterra.” Alice pointed to her left, at a beautiful, picturesque town that looked as if it had jumped out of the Renaissance era. The scenery of Tuscany was beautiful, and it had always been part of my bucket list to travel across Tuscany in a small rental car. That was not how I pictured that trip, or how I pictured my last day on Earth.

Alice was running through the city’s narrow streets by now, never stopping to honk at people passing by, who moved left and right, trying to avoid the “crazy driver who decided it was a good idea to drive a sports car through such a city’s small, narrow, occupied streets”; at least, that’s how I saw it.

Alice did not back down, and continued driving skillfully through the city’s small arteries. It was odd though, the fact that everyone around us was wearing red capes, red clothes, everything was red. Bella questioned it out loud and Alice informed us that today was the celebration of Saint Marcus’ Day, the day that the Saint expelled all vampires from the town. The irony.

Bella was experiencing a full on panic attack, as we were only 5 minutes away from Edward’s shenanigans. Theoretically, everything was in order, until the moment we were stopped by the local police who refused to let us go any farther. Bella opened her door. She would go on foot, to find Edward before he exposed himself. Alice would park the car somewhere outside of the town’s walls, and we’d then go and find them.

I turned around my seat, to watch Bella running through the streets, to the plaza where the clock tower, which Edward was going to expose himself from, was located. Alice left the car outside of the walls, but still, close enough to have easy access. 

For me, it was quite easy to walk around now, as my skin was not sparkling like Alice’s was. Alice had to wrap herself around a coat, a long, thick scarf and gloves, and wear sunglasses to protect her identity even more. I was walking in the middle of the streets, watching around carefully, as good as my human eyes could see, trying to help Alice go unnoticed, as she pushed herself more towards the buildings’ walls, trying to avoid the sunlight. 

That went on for a while, until we were close enough to the clock tower, where Alice took my hand on hers and, with long strides, walked towards the main entrance, which was, thankfully, shaded enough for her to walk through. 

She must have heard the conversation inside the building, as the moment we stepped in - Alice breaking the lock that kept the door momentarily closed, she started talking to the others, who I mistook as being Bella and Edward. As another sign of my unluckiness in life, she was actually addressing two other vampires, a tall brunette and a shorter blond.

They both looked gorgeous, but they could probably kill me as easily as it was for me to blink. I instantly became stiff, and Alice must have felt it, but she kept on holding my hand, trying to play it cool in front of the others, while trying to get rid of her disguise with her free hand at the same time.

“Come on, guys. It’s a festival. You wouldn’t want to make a scene.” She tried to play it nice and cool, though I knew she was just as worried being here as the rest of us.

“We wouldn’t.” The brunette vampire responded, now looking at me, who, by now, I have lost all my confidence in coming to Italy to help Bella.

I caught the blond vampire looking me up and down my body, and felt rather self-conscious. I didn’t have the best relationship with my own body and my own self; I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror, most of the time. So, I made up for what I lacked in self-confidence with sarcasm, bad humor, honesty and snarky remarks. I would be really going off of him right now, if I wasn’t shaking.

Though beautiful, the blond vampire also scared me, just as much as his brunette partner. I stared back at him, looking at his confident stance, one hand behind his back, and a smirk across his face. 

When my (Y/E/C) eyes met with his red ones, I started shivering even more, holding on Alice tighter than before. I felt my heart beating faster, my breath became both sharper and deeper, and I felt as if I would cry, right then and there, in front of everyone. I saw the blond becoming a bit stiff, his jaw clenching, swallowing deeply, but he still wouldn’t take his eyes off of me.

Alice and Edward exchanged some looks, as if they knew what was happening, but chose to not tell anyone else. The scene in front of me was interrupted by the clicks of heeled shoes, and a blonde girl came into our view. 

“Enough.” Her voice was stern, and her stance was stoic as she came closer to us.

“Jane.” Edward recognised her and lowered his head towards the ground. He didn’t seem scared before, when it was just the two vampires in front of us, but the small woman now seemed to have him terrified.

“Aro sent me to see what was taking so long.” She looked between the two vampires of her coven, as if she was criticizing them for their incompetence to bring us all before Aro. Then, she turned to us, looking us straight in our eyes, or rather our souls, probably to warn and scare us at the same time, before walking back to where she came from. 

Alice turned towards Bella and I, the only humans there, who clearly looked more terrified than she and Edward did. “Just do as she says.” She simply said and we followed behind the girl, with the other two vampires closely behind us. 

The blond one was so close to me, I could feel the coldness radiating off his body, making me shiver. The brunette gave Edward the red robe I didn’t notice he was holding before, probably to cover himself in front of the Kings. The blonde girl moved between Bella and Edward, and Alice and I. Edward was trying to comfort Bella but I couldn’t exactly make out what they were saying, my mind making all shorts of scenarios about how the vampires would kill me and the others. The more I thought about it, the more I was shriveling on Alice’s side. 

We reached an elevator - I never thought vampires used elevators, but maybe it was for the humans around? The brunette and the blond entered first, as the blond turned around to stare at us, turning his gaze at me afterwards, before fully stepping in. Then, it was time for Edward and Bella to get in, followed by Alice and I. The blonde girl stepped in last, before the elevator’s doors closed shut.

The elevator music, an operetta, was supposed to calm peoples’ nerves. Yet, in this tight box, it had the opposite effect. Surrounded by vampires, vegetarian and non, the music was just creeping me out. 

The fact that the blond vampire was merely two inches away from me was making my knees weak and my heart pounding, though I, myself, didn’t even know if my own body was reacting out of fear or attraction towards the blond vampire. I felt him leaning closer to me and barely heard him sniff around, but I clearly saw Alice turning her head around and giving him death stares, to which he retrieved back to his original position.

The elevator stopped and we all stepped out. We walked past a receptionist’s desk, the woman standing up, smiling and wishing us a good afternoon - based on the few Italian that I knew. From what Bella and Edward said, the receptionist was a human, wishing to become a vampire, like the others.

“And so she will be.” Demetri smirked, looking at me, who I still haven't abandoned Alice’s hand.

“Or dessert.” Jane interrupted, and I felt myself losing consciousness for a split second, before I felt the blond vampire grabbing my arm to stabilize me. His hand was cold and his grip tight on me, not leaving me even after I looked at him with wide eyes. He just smiled and continued walking ahead.

Jane opened the doors in front of her, leading us to a massive room, made out of marble, and decorated with Roman columns and scriptures on the walls. Surprisingly, it was well-lit and bright, compared to the dark halls that we passed through just a minute ago.

“Sister. Send you out to get one and you bring back two. And two halves. Such a clever girl.” A brunette boy, a bit taller than Jane, called towards her, as she walked by his side.

The blond vampire let me go and walk farther into the room, still holding Alice’s hand like I was holding on her for dear life. The blond vampire now stood a few feet behind us, next to the tall brunette one.

A black-haired vampire, who seemed a bit too excited, started walking towards us. “What a happy surprise! Bella is alive after all. Isn’t that wonderful. I love a happy ending. They are so rare.” He was talking with fake happiness in his face, as if he was reading from a script, grabbing Edward’s hand in the process.

“La tua cantante.” Your singer. The vampire seemed to know how much Edward craved Bella’s blood, and questioned how Edward could do so easily. 

“Aro can read every thought I’ve ever had with one touch.” Well, that explained a lot. And now I placed who Aro was within the Volturi.

I now learned more about Edward’s gift, which was more similar to Aro’s than anyone else’s, but he couldn’t actually read Bella’s thoughts. Aro requested if he could test his own gift on Bella, probably hoping that he could read her thoughts and brag about it. But when Bella offered her hand, which he took too willingly, his face was unreadable and then, disappointed and angry, not being able to read her either.

Then, he turned towards me, still by Alice’s side. His red eyes were cold and hostile, and his face uninviting. I felt small and vulnerable, exposed, in front of his critical gaze.

“Dear (Y/N), excuse me for the waiting. Edward has presented me a very..intriguing image of you. Could you offer me your hand? I would like to get to know you, as well.”

My lips were trembling, not being able to say a word, and my eyes were glistening. Please, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry. I knew that whatever Edward had shown him I couldn’t avoid. So, I took a step forward, leaving Alice’s hand and extending the other one towards Aro. I felt a breeze behind me, as Demetri came to stand on my right side, looking closely between Aro and I.

The mind reader took my hand between his hands, and I felt my thoughts being examined and tossed around my head, like a small whisper trying to cast a spell on me. The vampire looked at me, deep in the eyes, and his face was filled with fascination for whatever he saw inside my head.

“Fascinating, indeed, dear. Your mind is just filled with thoughts and images, though they are not very distinct. You are not an easy book to read. I still haven’t figured out who you really are. Although…”. He looked at the vampire standing beside me, motioning for him to give him his hand.

The blond obeyed his master. Did he have any other choice? Probably not. Aro took the blond’s hand, and his wicked, sick smile came back.

“Oh, this suddenly became even better than I would have expected.” He turned towards the vampire sitting on the throne, looking sad. Marcus? The vampire in question nodded, and Aro turned around in an almost theatrical move, with open arms, for everyone to see. 

“It seems that our dear Demetri has finally found his mate in (Y/N). I’m so happy for the two of you!” His face was smiling, but his voice sounded as fake as ever. 

I didn’t know what “mates” meant. Alice didn’t have enough time to explain every “vampire term” to me, so I was clueless regarding this part. The blond, who I now knew as Demetri, must have seen the confusion in my face, as he leaned slightly towards me and whispered “Soulmates” in my ear. My eyes widened and he giggled lightly.

Whether it was how close he came near me, or his giggle, or the fact that we were “soulmates”, my heart responded immediately, thumbing faster in my chest, and I felt my cheeks burn - I was clearly blushing in front of everyone, as if I couldn’t be any more awkward than I was before.

Aro interrupted my embarrassment, as he turned once again towards Bella, wanting to test if she was immune to the others’ gifts as well. He turned towards the blonde girl, Jane, asking her basically to show off her own gift. Edward ran forward to stop whatever it was going to happen, only to end up in pain, writhing in an inaudible pain, as Bella was practically screaming to stop.

I honestly didn’t mind Edward suffering, even if it was for a few seconds, considering that Bella had it worse for over 5 months. He finally dropped to the floor, as Alice ran to his side, and the blonde girl’s brother ran to grab Bella, to stop her from going by her lover’s side.

I had no idea what was happening. I was just looking around, shocked and scared, as all these unfamiliar things were taking place in front of my untrained eyes. I felt a hand stroking my arm up and down. I turned around to see Demetri smiling slightly at me, trying to calm me down. I sighed a bit and felt my heart slightly at ease.

That was until the Kings decided that Bella was a liability - I wasn’t? - and Aro called out for Felix. I turned around and saw the tall brunette smiling evilly, while the shorter brunette turned Bella around and left her there, exposed, in front of the giant. Edward seemed to know what it would be happening, as he immediately stood up and ran by Bella’s side to protect her.

He immediately ran forward, attacking the tall brunette, and knocking him down. Alice ran towards Edward to help him out, but she was immediately stopped by Demetri, who I didn’t notice had left my side, grabbing her by her neck and immobilizing her, dragging her away from ever reaching her brother. 

“Alec!” Demetri shouted towards the brunette boy, who had just left Bella at Felix’s mercy, pointing towards me with his eyes. The boy, Alec, came by my side, and practically dragged me farther from the scene that took place in front of me. His grip was a bit too much as he squeezed my arm, making me slightly cry in pain. Demetri growled at him, and Alec’s grip loosened significantly, but he still kept his hand on my arm.

Felix was pissed by now, as he immediately started fighting Edward, pushing and slamming him around the room. However, I couldn’t focus my gaze on them; not because they were fast, but because I was focused on watching Demetri, and how he was still holding on Alice’s neck tightly, never letting her go.

Watching Demetri’s hand around Alice’s neck should have made me feel appalled and sorry for the small brunette girl, but it didn’t. On the contrary, I felt rather aroused, watching his strong hand wrapped around the brunette’s neck. 

Honestly, I felt a wave of jealousy and annoyance hitting me. That should have been me! Only I was worthy to be touched by this sort of demon who masked his true identity with the facade of an angel. It should be me! I couldn’t help myself, my jealousy building up inside me. 

“Wish he’d choke ME!” I told myself, getting more frustrated by the minute.

“Patience, cara mia. All in due time.” Demetri smirked at me. I did not realise I said that out loud, until Alec started snorting beside me, clearly laughing cheekily, and Felix started bursting in laughter, his grip tight on Edward’s jaw by now.

I had embarrassed myself in a room full of vampires once again, the majority of them being part of the Volturi coven. If the Earth opened in half and swallowed me, I would pretty much welcome it at that point.

Bella brought me back to reality, as she was practically screaming, begging the vampires to let go of Edward, as she looked clearly distraught and upset. She even offered herself instead of Edward! Why, Bella? Just why? I have understood by now that they were mates and they’d do anything for each other, but she would sacrifice her own life for Edward?! That didn’t make sense to me.

Aro seemed to agree with me, but he thought more of the “soulless monster” perspective, while I thought more of Edward’s character, and how much his absence had scarred Bella. Alice told me, on our way here, that he thought he was doing everything to keep her away just to protect her, that being close to him put her in danger. But, from my own experience with Bella, she was suffering more away from him than he thought she would.

Aro looked disappointed between Edward and Bella, wishing he would give her immortality, which he did not seem willing to do. Aro moved menacingly towards the terrified girl, prepared to end her life. I fell forwards, attempting to reach her, to move in between them, but Alec’s grip tightened, keeping me back, both of his hands on my arms now. Aro was basically licking his lips, when, suddenly, Alice stopped him. 

The small brunette confirmed that Bella would become a vampire like them, and that she would even be the one to change her, as she saw in her vision. Aro called her forward, and Demetri let her walk towards his Master. 

He then moved towards Alec and I, replacing the brunette boy, but, instead of grabbing my arms like Alec did, he embraced me tightly, not letting me move away from my position. His cold embrace sent shivers down my spine, but, surprisingly, I let myself relax in his arms, feeling safe, and like that was where I belonged. I felt him smiling and relaxing, as well.

Aro seemed pleased with whatever Alice had shown him, and intrigued by her own gift of predicting the future. Alice had told me that her gift was subjected to the decisions people made, and the future could just change at any point. However, if Aro believed that her vision would eventually come true, we had no reason to tell him otherwise. 

Aro turned to Bella. “Your gifts will make for an intriguing immortal.” He whispered as he touched her face, Bella clearly feeling uncomfortable under his touch. I would, too - Aro seemed creepy in his own way, his behavior and movements just as unpredictable.

He then told us to leave, and prepare for Bella’s transformation, and Felix let go of Edward. Marcus told everyone that a woman named Heidi would be coming soon and thanked us “for the visit”, as Aro said his goodbyes. Demetri walked towards the exit, me still in his arms. Edward grabbed Bella by her hand and Alice followed them behind.

As we were walking through the corridor, a beautiful woman walked past us, many people - they looked like tourists - following behind her. She had long, wavy brown hair and purple eyes, which could only mean that she was most likely wearing blue contacts over her red eyes. Her aura was full of confidence and power; she knew what she was doing and she took her job seriously.

“Nice fishing, Heidi.” I heard Demetri addressing the woman from behind me. So, that was the Heidi Marcus was referring to. Wait.. Nice..what?

“Yes, they do look rather juicy.” The beautiful woman replied, eyeing between Bella and I, as she continued leading the tourists down the hallway.

Demetri must have seen her reaction, as he brought me closer to him. I was in shock, and started trembling more than before. These people, these poor people would be the vampires’ snacks in a few seconds. Like Bella and I could have been just minutes ago. I tried to not think about it, but the screams that echoed through the hall would probably haunt me for the rest of my life.

Demetri opened another door as we approached the end of the corridor, and we found ourselves back in the reception area. The Italian woman greeted us once again, but I didn’t listen to what she said, still in shock, just waiting to leave this horrible place as soon as I could.

“Just wait here. You will be able to leave in a few hours, when it’s dark outside.” Demetri instructed Edward and Alice, and took his arms away from my body, turning to look at me. “Wait here, cara mia. I’ll be back soon.” I nodded, not being able to say a word.

Demetri turned and ran towards the throne room. I knew he left to feed, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of him killing innocent humans. I couldn’t keep myself from crying, as I started trembling and losing balance. 

Alice came by my side, trying to stabilize and calm me down, while Edward tried calming down a hyperventilating Bella. We were both losing our sanity, not being able to keep up with the Volturi’s lifestyle, as it seemed. I was craving Demetri’s touch but, at the same time, I couldn’t stop the human in me, the logic, the sense that said that I should stay away from the vampires who killed people. 

I heard Alice and Edward talking with the receptionist, but I couldn’t make out exactly what they were talking about. Alice, slowly and carefully, with her hands still on my arms, led me to a nearby bench, as the receptionist walked away. I was rocking back and forth, trying to calm down, realizing that we are still alive. I saw the receptionist coming towards us, offering a glass of water to both Bella and I.

“Grazie mille.” I thanked her, my voice barely audible.

“Prego.” She smiled at me, and walked back towards her desk.

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

I didn’t realise how much time passed, until I heard footsteps coming towards us. I was way more calm by now. Lifting my head towards the direction of the footsteps, I saw Demetri and Felix. I shyly smiled at Demetri, and he smiled back, with a smile wider than mine, a smile that warmed my heart.

“Hello, again, amore mio.” I felt as if my heart stopped for a split second upon hearing the words he used to address me. I would still be weak to my knees, if I didn't already sit down.

Felix was the one to inform us that we were allowed to go now, being way past nighttime. I stood up, and attempted to walk forward, towards Bella and the two Cullen siblings. I intended to leave with them, but I was stopped by Demetri’s hand on my wrist.

“Where are you going, cara?” He looked at me, knowing why I was attempting to walk away.

“I.. I thought we’d.. be leaving? That I’d be leaving? With the others?” At least, I was hoping I would be leaving with them. 

“I’m sorry, amore. I can’t let you go, not now that I found you. You’ll be staying here, with me.” Demetri sounded so natural and serious, and I could only stare at him, my mouth agape.

“But.. I thought it was okay for me to leave. I have a life behind, you know. I have a school to finish, I have my family, I have things to do.” I still looked at him dumbfounded, waiting for him to allow me to go, just for now, just for a few months at least.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). But I cannot risk anything happening to you. I will make sure you are safe and protected here. We will arrange everything with your school and your family, and whatever else is needed. Please, stay.” Demetri’s eyes were pleading, and a shiver passed through my body, just by looking at him and hearing him talk.

It took me a few minutes to respond; nobody said a word all this time. “Okay.” I said faintly. “I will stay.. here.. with you.”

Demetri’s face lit up, and he leaned closer to me, wrapping his arms around me. He was careful to not hurt me, and I knew, at the moment, with my heart full of love and affection for that man, that that was where I was supposed to be. With Demetri. For as long as it lasted.  

[ladyartemesia]

The Praetor

◐ PART VI of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Series Masterlist ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Part III ◐ Part IV ◐ Part V ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Hard Mature 18+ (for this installment)

Warnings: sexual content including grinding and marking, some light (and totally consensual) manhandling, ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming. Violence and discussion of violence relating to ritual combat, possessive behavior, injuries and discussion of injuries

Special Note: Yoonji and Yunli are NOT the same person. Yoonji is Yoongi and Yunli’s cousin. She is sometimes affectionately called “Ji-ah.”

Word Count: 5500 (wow)

Author’s Note: Life has been really hard. I won’t beat around the bush. It was hard to do anything... but your kind words and support really kept me going. Truly you guys straight up manifested this chapter with your incredible support. As always, my angels @ppersonna​ @xjoonchildx​ @untaemedqueen​ and @underthejoon​ were the best betas and the best friends anyone could ask for. My thanks to ALL of you for helping me bring this story to life!

“Alpha.” 

Namjoon’s voice echoed through the clearing with profound resonance. 

There would be no more fighting. 

There would be no more doubt.

It was a complete surrender, the kind only a true Alpha could compel. 

A frantic whimper suddenly split the air, drawing every eye to you-

 But you saw only him. 

“Untie me,” you pleaded, struggling impatiently against the restraints. 

One of the elders moved to release you, but before she could, Jin produced a knife and cut you free with the kind of terrifying precision expected of a man who was every bit as deadly as he was beautiful. 

Then you were running - and this time, no one could stop you. 

Your body crashed into his and fiery joy shot through you as he pulled you into his arms. 

His scent wrapped around your senses like a warm blanket, covering the fear and pain of the past days in unimaginable relief. 

 “Jimin.”

“I’m here. I have you,” he whispered. 

Your entire frame seemed to shake as you sobbed against his chest. It was as if you could not draw close enough - could not hold tight enough - to be satisfied. Part of you was still terrified that you would wake up and discover that all of this had been a dream...

Then you heard it.

Another set of knees hitting the ground. 

“Alpha.”

Then another-

“Alpha.“

And another 

“Alpha.”

Till the air was filled with hundreds of voices, all speaking the same word.

“Alpha.”

Namjoon remembered very little of what happened after his surrender...

Just pain. 

His limbs seemed oddly disconnected from the rest of his body. There was blood everywhere (and he was reasonably sure it was his). 

He knew he should feel defeated, broken - ashamed even.

Instead he felt strangely...

Light. 

As if a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. 

The last thing he saw before losing consciousness entirely was Yunli’s tear-stained gaze - still fixed on him - even as the others turned to face their new Alpha. 

He breathed out her name in a quiet, desperate plea as the darkness overtook him. 

Jimin was only in your arms a few moments before healers and half the elder’s council came rushing forward on all sides. 

You snarled instinctively at the first elder who tried to collect him, but a healer eventually got close enough to reason with you after pointing out that the wound on his shoulder could possibly become infected if left untreated for much longer.

An Alpha’s injuries always took the highest priority, but Jimin directed them all toward Namjoon, brushing away anyone who attempted to tend to him. 

By that point Jin and your mother had found their way to your side and were gently trying to pull you back - even as more elders reached for your mate. 

Everyone was speaking at once - words about preparations and plans and ceremonies - but none of it registered over the waves of frantic adrenaline still pounding through your system. 

You didn’t know what they wanted or why they were so close-

just that they were trying to take him away again. 

No. 

Suddenly a senior elder placed his hand on Jimin’s forearm and your wolf snapped entirely. 

Omegas were known for their speed and as a Luna, yours was unparalleled.

Two council members and a healer went flying into the dirt within the space of a single second as your body instinctively assumed a defensive stance. The remaining elders stumbled back in alarm and your mother fainted dead away forcing Jin to catch her rather inelegantly. 

Your canines began to lengthen as you pressed your back to the Alpha, letting primal rage guide your movements. 

They had tied you up. 

Forced you to watch as he was attacked again and again and again-

An omega would defend their mate to the death and you had spent days knowing he was in danger...

Feeling powerless, feeling paralyzed- 

Your wolf had simply had enough. 

“Luna please-“ the chief elder began cautiously, but you cut him off with warning growl and lunged - fully prepared to end the next person who attempted to separate you from-

Strong arms closed around you, pulling you back to the comforting warmth that enveloped you moments ago.

Jimin. 

“Luna,” he whispered against your skin and you shivered, letting your eyes flutter shut. 

Then you felt it. 

The gentle pressure of the Alpha - your mate - nosing softly at your neck. 

It was a gesture of soothing affection. 

Of gratitude. 

Slowly he turned you in his arms till you were facing him once again. The fire in your blood began to fade as you simply took him in, struck by the sensual beauty of his face and the possessive heat in his gaze. 

“So fierce,” he hummed, tilting his head so you could bury yourself in his scent once more. His hands brushed soothing circles over your back, leaving delicious sparks of pleasure in their wake. 

“I’m safe,” he promised as you nuzzled into him needily. “You can rest now...” 

The pleasant pull of his command wove heavily through your senses. You felt your feet leave the ground as he lifted you fully into his arms...

Then you slipped into a blissful sleep. 

The healers worked for hours on Namjoon. 

Some betas were blessed with minor healing abilities - a valuable gift stemming from a type of energy transference. He could feel the heat of their hands as they poured themselves - literally - into mending his battered body.  

His ribs were set and wrapped tightly and the swelling and bruising were already beginning to fade due to the assortment of vile tasting herbal concoctions they insisted on ramming down his throat. 

Accelerated healing and potent herbal intervention truly went a long way, but it would take time and rest to restore him fully.

Despite his lingering soreness, Namjoon was finally lucid enough to think for the first time since the fight and there was certainly a wealth of things to think about…

Yet his mind kept going back to that moment-

To her. 

“Kim Namjoon.”

Every hair on his body raised to attention. 

“Alpha-” 

He struggled to pull himself upright, but Jimin placed a hand on his arm to still him. 

“Please,” he spoke softly, “let me sit. I’ve caused you enough trouble for one day.”

A painful chuckle stuttered out of Namjoon and he shook his head. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that? We both know this is entirely my fault.”

Jimin’s eyes dropped in reluctant amusement.. 

“You think rather highly of yourself,” he said with a barely perceptible grin, echoing his words in the chief elder’s chambers a day - a lifetime - ago. “I believe I had something to do with it as well.”

Namjoon laughed and winced immediately. He rubbed gingerly over the binding on his ribs before voicing the question that had plagued him from the moment he awoke. 

“How quickly?” 

The Alpha tilted his head in confusion. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“How quickly,” Namjoon grunted, pulling himself to an upright position, “could you have killed me?”

There was a strange sort of acceptance in his eyes, a profound and untainted respect that Jimin was wholly unused to receiving from a man like him. 

It was equal parts humbling and overwhelming. 

“The first hit... a little to the left - at full force -  would have fractured your sternum and penetrated your heart.  You’d have been dead in a matter of minutes.”

Namjoon was silent for a long time. 

“Why did you spare me? ...I challenged you, threatened you, intended to lay claim to your mate which-” he rubbed idly at the back of his neck, “I’m beginning to understand is enough to enrage any man… So why am I still here?”

“Because,” Jimin sighed, “apparently I think very highly of you too, Kim Namjoon.”

“Well… I’m flattered, but I - I still don’t understand… I’ve done nothing but underestimate you. Most wolves would have made an example of me.”

“Oh I intend to make an example of you,” Jimin smiled and Namjoon felt his blood run cold for the briefest instant, “but not in the way you’re thinking.” 

The Alpha’s eyes took on a strangely solemn light. “I have no intention of ruling through fear and violence.”

After a moment, his gaze met Namjoon’s again. 

“You were right… Without your challenge, the pack would never have trusted my leadership. You were the obvious choice to be Alpha and without defeating you decisively, they would always look to you as an alternative.”

Namjoon eyed his collection of injuries sardonically. 

“Something tells me you won’t have that issue now.”

“And I have you to thank for that.”

“So … you spared my life in gratitude?”

“I spared your life because it was well worth sparing. You have always led your clan with honor and dignity. You don’t strike me as someone who enjoys killing, yet you were willing to do so for the good of our people. Such a man is a far better example alive than he is dead.”

Namjoon could not help but be impressed by the younger alpha’s insight and perception. 

Our goddess has chosen well. 

“I am grateful for your mercy, Alpha... Though I’m sure there are some who believe I should have chosen death over the disgrace of defeat.”

Jimin’s jaw clenched. . 

“Defeat is not a disgrace. I have learned some of my greatest lessons from it. Defeat is often a vital stop on the path to victory.”

The elder alpha grinned. 

“I wouldn’t know. This is the first time I’ve lost.”

Jimin laughed and Namjoon’s impish smile suddenly became oddly serious. 

“I want you to know…  You have my loyalty - without question - and not simply because you spared me. It is clear that you were meant to lead.”

A subtle hint of awe crept into his tone as he continued. 

“Honestly… I’ve only ever heard stories of primal alphas. I never thought I’d meet one,” he snorted, “or be foolish enough to fight him.“

Jimin drew back in confusion. 

“I’m not familiar- ...I’ve never heard of a primal alpha.”

“Really?... Well ...I suppose that makes sense. I forgot how often you skipped camp.” He sighed and shifted into a more comfortable position before answering. 

“A primal alpha is goddess-blessed. They cannot be compelled. Their command is powerful enough to compel members of other packs and even non-wolves. It is a rare gift.”

Jimin’s face easily betrayed his shock. 

“I-...That’s-” he shook his head. “Why do you believe I have such a gift?”

“I suppose the first hint should have been your coloring. Silver wolves are never born to mundane destinies... But the real proof is in your eyes.” Namjoon leaned back against the headboard, quietly reliving the moment he discovered the depth of Jimin’s ability. “When you commanded me to yield, your eyes flashed gold. It’s the true sign of a primal alpha... of a king.”

King. 

The word fell heavily between them. 

A human king was a politician, a figurehead whose power became more symbolic as the ages passed. 

But to the wolf nations, a king - an Alpha - was the heart of their pack. A warrior who bore the burden of leadership alongside his Luna. 

The power of a wolf king was quite real. 

The Alpha shifted uncomfortably 

“I never thought I would be a king.”

“And I never thought I wouldn’t be.” His eyes dropped to his hands. “I’m not quite sure what I am anymore.”

“Perhaps I can help with that.”

Namjoon’s gaze met his with cautious curiosity. 

“Oh?”

“You said yourself I skipped Alpha camp every year. I may have been destined to lead, but I won’t pretend that I’m completely prepared for it.”

All at once Namjoon realized why Jimin was there. 

The transfer of power was a long and intricate process that should remain essentially uninterrupted until its completion. 

There could only be one reason the Alpha had come to his bedside. 

He was here to appoint his Praetor. 

A Praetor wielded nearly as much authority as the Alpha. In terms of pack hierarchy, only the Alpha outranked him (or her). The commitment required was immense. Their role encompassed everything from ‘chief advisor’ to ‘the last line of defense.’

Praetor were expected to cut all obligations to their own clan and serve only the Alpha. They were an extension of his authority and vision. It was a lifetime appointment which could be extremely dangerous (depending on the number of territorial disputes one’s pack might be involved in). 

If anything were to happen to the Alpha, a Praetor would assume the responsibility of protecting the Luna and ruling by her side (without any romantic obligations as Praetor often had their own mates) until their death. 

“What about Taehyung?”

Jimin shrugged. 

“What about him? I assure you, he has no interest in this at all.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides, he serves me well as a best friend... A Praetor must be willing to disagree with me from time to time without worrying too much about my feelings. They must be in tune with the needs of the pack. Kim Taehyung is a good man… but he isn’t the right one. Not for this.”

The elder alpha considered his next words carefully. 

“What you’re asking is no small request.”

“True,” Jimin nodded, “but how about this…” he grinned mischievously, “I promise to put in a good word for you with Min Yoongi when he finds out what you’ve done to his little sister.”

“I haven’t done anything to his little sister.”

“Yet.”

Namjoon cleared his throat guiltily. 

“You realize this means we’ll have to talk every single day.”

“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for the good of the pack.”

Namjoon laughed and Jimin smiled back, more sure than ever that he was making the right choice. 

After a moment the Alpha held out his hand in an age old ceremonial gesture and finally voiced the question he had come to ask. 

“Kim Namjoon, will you forsake your place in the clan of your blood to serve your Alpha and your pack as Praetor. Will you protect my blood as your own and fight by my side till the paths of our lives be complete?

Namjoon’s gaze locked with his as their palms met, letting the force of his resolve color each word. 

“I swear it shall be so.” 

It was well past noon when you stumbled from your bedroom to find Jin spread luxuriously over your kitchen island, popping berries into his mouth like a debauched satyr. 

“I feel very odd…” you yawned, “almost like I-”

“Attacked half the elders council in a fit of horny rage?”

Your jaw dropped. 

“I did no such thing!” A few choice memories began to flood back and your staunch defensive tirade stuttered in shock. “Wait...Did I-”

“You did.”

“I wouldn’t call it horny rage,” you muttered, massaging your temples as you struggled to process your own actions. 

“I don’t know, the whole thing looked very horny to me.”

“Everything looks horny to you.”

Jin grinned but didn’t bother denying it. 

“What do you remember?”

“I remember…” you pulled a water bottle from the fridge and took a long drink before answering,”...Jimin’s victory... People kept trying to take him away and then-”

Heat streaked across the back of your neck as you recalled the press of his lips on your skin.

“Oh...”

You shivered deliciously.  

Jin sighed. “Yes, you were quite the spectacle. Who knows how many throats you would have ripped out if the Alpha had not intervened.”

“Oh goddess,” you moaned, burying your face in your hands. “He probably thinks I’m a lunatic.”

Jin rolled his eyes. 

“I wonder if there is a celestial punishment for smacking the Luna upside the head.”

“Punishable by death - for sure,” you pouted, “and why would you even want to do that?”

“Because you’re an idiot. The man risked his life for you in ritual combat and then carried you home in his arms all the way from the sacred circle like a fairy tale princess.”

“He... he did?”

Your cousin nodded and tossed another berry in his mouth. 

“The whole scene was so disgustingly romantic. I would have swooned if I wasn’t left to haul your mother back. Honestly I think I threw out my back.”  

“And - and the pack?”

“They were free to swoon since they weren’t carrying your mother and most of them did. The man has become a bit of a legend already. Namjoon is one of the strongest alphas in the mountain kingdoms and Park Jimin dispatched him like it was nothing.” He paused to dab berry juice off his absurdly full lips. “I’d be surprised if every pack for a hundred miles hasn’t heard about it by now.”

“How is Namjoon?”

“Alive. He will make a full recovery.”

You sighed in relief. Truly, you had no desire to mate with the Kim alpha, but (despite the grumbling of your bloodthirsty wolf) you never wanted him dead. 

Not to mention the loss of Namjoon would have cast a heavy shade over Jimin’s leadership. He was wise to spare him. 

“Where is he? I want to see him.”

“Namjoon is with the healers-”

“Kim Seokjin,” you bopped him with your now empty water bottle. “I am obviously not talking about Namjoon. Where is my mate?!”

“Calm down, cousin. You’re getting that throat-rippy gleam in your eye again and I’m far too beautiful to go out like that.” 

He reached for another berry. 

“I need to see him.”

You were already marching toward the door when Jin yanked you back. It was always a surprise to see how fast he could move when he wanted to. 

“My dear sweet Luna, you have one murderous rampage and forget all about our tedious traditions. The elders will be drowning him in the preparations and expectations of leadership for at least another ten hours.”

None of Jin’s sensible reminders mattered the least bit to your wolf. She was already suggesting all sorts of reasons you should just march into the council chambers and take him. 

Park Jimin was yours. 

You’ve waited long enough. 

Your hand tightened on the doorknob. 

“He left something for you.”

Kim Seokjin really was a wickedly clever man. He knew exactly which cards to play and exactly when to play them. 

Your heart stuttered wildly in your chest as Jin nodded toward a small box on the table. 

“He sent Taehyung to drop it off not long after the elders dragged him away from your bedside.” 

If you had even an ounce of dignity left, you might have been embarrassed by how quickly you scrambled over to the gift, but you were well past caring about such things when it came to him. 

Your cousin shook his head as you eagerly tore into the wrapping, impatient to discover what he could have possibly-

You gasped. 

There, laying nestled in an ornate wooden box with a lavish blue satin interior, was the most beautiful pair of gloves you had ever seen…

Your fingers reached out to brush the soft white leather, custom stitched with intricately embroidered vines that wound around a beautiful silver wolf. 

“They’re exquisite.”

Jim’s brow furrowed in confusion. 

“They’re not just exquisite, they’re one of a kind.” His fingers traced over the emblem on the box. “This is the mark of the Bangtan Leatherworkers Guild. Every one of their pieces is unique.” 

Your head tilted curiously as Jin began to lift back the satin lining.

“What are you doing?”

“You can only buy their merchandise directly from the shop in Seoul. There’s no way he could have gotten these today.”

“R...Really?”

Jin nodded. 

“I’m about to find out for sure. Each piece produced by the guild comes with a certification. It includes the date of manufacture and the date of sale.”

After a moment he withdrew a small card embossed with gold writing. 

“Well... what does it say?” you pressed impatiently. 

An odd little smile drifted across Jin’s lips as he considered the information in his hands. 

“These gloves were sold to Park Jimin three years ago... a few days before your 17th birthday.” 

Min Yunli slept for most of the day after Taehyung brought her home. 

The Alpha ordered his second to secure her and see to her safety not long after lifting the Luna into his arms. 

In the end, Tae had to compel her again.

She fought to stay near Namjoon, but he needed medical attention and there was no real reason to allow her any access to the fallen alpha. 

She had no claim on him. 

She was nothing to him. 

Nothing at all. 

When she finally opened her eyes the sun was already dipping low on the horizon and the world around her was dim. 

Aching emptiness sat heavily in her chest. The Change was another six days away which meant the connection between her consciousness and her wolf was not fully solidified…  but she could still feel acidic pain of rejection festering in both halves of her heart. 

Tears fell silently down her cheek as she considered her actions and what the consequences might be. 

Namjoon probably hated her now. She had ruined everything for him. 

An angry growl rumbled up from her stomach. 

Yunli snorted humorously and shrugged off her dirty clothes, throwing on an oversized t-shirt before trudging out to the refrigerator. 

Of all the problems she was facing, hunger was the easiest to fix. 

“Do you normally walk around without pants?” 

She just barely bit back a scream. 

There - sitting on her couch (and looking significantly better than he had the last time she’d seen him) - was Kim Namjoon. 

“How did you get in here?!” Yunli squeaked. 

Namjoon held up a key. 

“Yoongi gave it to me years ago.”

Though I doubt he intended for me to use it like this. 

Her fists clenched and unclenched reflexively at her side. 

“Have you… come to yell at me?” she whispered.

Namjoon didn’t respond right away, he was too distracted by the shapely curve of her legs and the soft glow of her skin under the warmth of the living room lamps. 

Yunli, however, took his silence as confirmation of her worst fears. 

“I’m so sorry...” she trembled, her beautiful eyes glistening poetically with unshed tears. “I don’t - I don’t know what came over me - I know I cost you the fight and I-”

Namjoon felt a chuckle bubble up in chest and winced. 

“Yunli...your screams, however affecting, could not undo the will of the goddess.” He shook his head, “Park Jimin was born to be the Alpha.”  His fingers rubbed idly at his chest. “I’ve never come across anything like his power.”

Her eyes traced over the damage to his body with obvious remorse. 

“Are you ok?” she asked finally. 

He had four cracked ribs, several critical lacerations, a concussion, two sprained elbows, countless contusions, and a split lip. 

“Ah, it’s nothing,” he shrugged, barely suppressing a groan. 

Yunli grinned, helplessly endeared as always. She opened her mouth to ask again why he was here, but he cut her off with a surprisingly curt question. 

“Has Taehyung seen you like this?”

Yunli blinked. Twice. 

“T-Taehyung? Like Kim Taehyung - your cousin?”

“Second cousin,” he growled, “I was told he brought you home.”

“Well. Yes. He did… I’m really grateful to him actually. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t caught me and calmed me down.”

A loud ringing was building in Namjoon’s ears. 

“Do you have an understanding with him?” he snarled. 

Yunli’s jaw dropped. 

“An understanding? With Yoonji’s Taehyung?!” She snorted. “I don’t have a death wish.”

“What’s Yoonji got to do with this? Isn’t she in Europe?”

“Never mind that. Why would you think Tae and I-”

“Tae?!”

Yunli’s eyes narrowed. 

“What’s going on in that busted up skull of yours, Kim Namjoon?”

Namjoon was off the couch and pressing her against the wall faster than she would have thought possible in his condition. 

“What’s going on is that for the past year you’ve been a real problem for me, Min Yunli.”

Yunli gasped as the muscled lines of his body weighed firmly into her own. Deep curls of pleasure flared up at every contact point. 

Yes. Oh goddess, yes. 

The force of his desire burned hot in the air between them. She had waited years for him to see her like this - to touch her like this...

“I wasn’t supposed to feel anything when you looked at me with your heart in those pretty brown eyes,” he murmured, brushing the tips of his fingers up over her arms till he was cupping her chin. 

Yunli’s wolf keened in delight as she melted helplessly into his embrace. 

It felt good. It felt so so good. 

“I was convinced you were a challenge - a divine temptation put in my path to test my resolve-” his jaw clenched, “or simply an endless source of torment because you wanted me so badly and I could never have you.”

The sound of ripping fabric split the air as Namjoon clawed through the neckline of her t-shirt, baring her pert little breasts to him like an obscene feast. 

“I was supposed to want the Luna,” he growled, squeezing the soft mounds roughly in his palms till she was whining and writhing against him, “-not Min Yoongi’s sweet little sister.”

Her gaze was so open - so trusting. Adoration shone through every inch of her regard and it was intoxicating. 

She was intoxicating. 

His hand slid down to grip her thighs, lifting her body till she was forced to wrap her legs around him for balance. 

“Namjoon,” she whimpered as the sensitive folds of her core ground into his growing hardness. 

“You just kept pushing and pushing-” he hissed, punctuating each word with delicious thrusts till the maddening pressure in her center was nearly unbearable. “Then last night you offered me a taste and it nearly destroyed me.”

His mouth finally descended on hers again and she opened to him eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck with wanton desperation. A tortured groan slipped past his lips as he dragged her away from the wall and onto the sofa where she first discovered him. 

“Is this what you wanted, Min Yunli?” he rasped between the fervent mating of their mouths. “To make me desperate? To take me apart until I’m half-mad with wanting you?”

“Yes,” she sobbed as he sucked mark after mark into her flesh, painting her body with the evidence of his passion.

She slipped her hands greedily under his shirt, aching to feel more of his skin against her own. Needy whines and moans fell from her mouth like a siren’s call, beckoning Namjoon to lose himself in the lush warmth of her body. 

“If Kim Taehyung puts his greasy hands on you again, I’ll kill him.”

Yunli mewled in primal gratification at his bold words. She had waited far too long to hear them. 

“All those months I suffered because my wolf recognized what I was too ignorant to see.” 

The last shreds of her shirt flew across the room and Namjoon pinned her wrists above her head like a pagan offering, allowing his free hand to explore her curves with impassioned reverence. 

“You are mine, Yunli,” he swore. 

And she was. 

She always had been. 

Following Jimin’s victory, the pack exploded into a chaotic storm of gossip and ceremonial preparations. The story of his unlikely path to power had already spread beyond the borders of the mountain kingdoms. 

“-messages are coming in from the high packs of Delhi and Beijing requesting to meet with him-“

The rise of new pack leaders typically brought with it a buzz of excitement, but the Luna and her newly victorious Alpha were anything but typical. 

“-he’s a silver wolf. I always knew he was meant for more than just heading up the Park clan-“

The last Alpha king (the current Luna’s great-grandfather) died peacefully in his sleep nearly thirty years ago and the elder’s council ruled in the interim while they waited for a new Alpha to rise. This was the first (and likely the only) coronation most people would see in their lifetime. 

“ - my friend from Seoul is begging me to invite her. Outsiders aren’t allowed to attend unless they’re the guest of a pack member- “

Preparations to transfer power were every bit as tedious and time consuming as the rest of pack law. 

“-the council just announced that he’s chosen a Praetor. I’m sure it will be Taehyung-“

Aside from sneaking out to secure his Praetor (who was not Taehyung), the new Alpha had been holed up with the council, the heads of the ten major clans, and an army of envoys from other packs for nearly twelve hours. 

“ -grandfather worked with him all day. He claims that the future king has already impressed the council-”

Park Jimin’s name echoed through the mountain kingdoms. People could speak of nothing else. 

But there was one member of the pack who had not yet heard the news...

Yoongi took a deep breath as he waited for the woman on the other end of the line to accept his call. He was mentally and physically exhausted, but he had promised to tell her what happened as soon as he could.

Silence lingered eerily in the first few moments after she picked up. 

“I really debated answering this,” Min Yoonji whispered at last. “I don’t know if I can bear to hear you say that Park Jimin is dead.”

She sighed heavily as she ambled down the stairs of her tiny apartment in Paris. 

There were too many happy memories connected with him. He was Tae’s best friend... His loss would tear her former lover apart. 

And she could not be there for him when it did. 

She could never be there for him...

Several thousand miles away her cousin smiled. 

“Park Jimin is not dead, Ji-ah.”

Yoonji missed the last step and crashed down inelegantly on her tail bone. 

“WHAT?!” Her fingers scrambled to hold the phone secure in her precarious position. “You mean to tell me that Kim Namjoon lost - to PARK JIMIN?!”

“You sure picked a wild time to move to Europe,” Yoongi chuckled. 

“I didn’t really move here per se... I just relocated temporarily but indefinitely.”

“Yes, I’m well aware. Your mother is still howling about what a disgrace it was to go through the Change away from your friends and family. So thank you for that.”

Yoonji sighed. 

“What’s done is done... I know you don’t understand, but I promise to explain someday.” Her eyes drifted shut as she forced the pain in her heart aside. “... I can’t believe I missed all this. You have to tell me how he did it.”

“I will later, but I need to head back to the council chambers. We had a brief recess and I figured I’d call since it’s still early over there. However… I do have one last shocking revelation for you before I go.”

Yoonji rolled her eyes at her cousin’s dramatics. 

“I’m not sure anything could shock me after finding out that Park Jimin is our new Alpha.”

“Jimin just made Namjoon his Praetor.”

Apparently I was wrong. 

“WHAT!? So wait - that means Jinwook is now head of the Kim Clan?”

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“Jinwook? No, how could - ah never mind. You were already in Europe when he left.”

“Jinwook left?!”

“Yeah, he was finishing up a consultation in Bangkok when he met his mate in one of the packs up there. It's an older pack with almost no alphas so they asked him to stay. He’s lived in Thailand since August.” Yoongi yawned. “Believe it or not Kim Taehyung was just sworn in as the Kim Clan alpha.”

Dead silence met his declaration. For a moment he wondered if the call had been disconnected but then-

“...What... did you just say?” 

Yoonji’s voice had taken on a strange hollow quality that had her cousin frowning into the receiver. 

“I said Taehyung was just sworn in as a Clan alpha.”

“That... no that can’t be right... You’re saying Kim Taehyung - my Taehyung-”

“What do you mean your Taehyung?!”

“- is a Clan alpha?”

“Yoonji. I can’t believe I’m repeating this a third time. Yes. Tae is the new head of the Kim Clan. I watched him take the oath twenty minutes ago and I have to say-”

A heart wrenching sob cut him off abruptly. 

“Oh goddess what have I done,” she gasped. 

Yoongi’s eyes widened in fear and alarm. 

“Ji-ah? What’s wrong?... Ji-ah?... Ji-ah?!”

But the line was dead. 

Don’t Miss Chapter VII: The Luna… Coming Soon!

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please comment on this post. If you have already asked then you will be automatically tagged in all future updates.

Guys I cannot emphasize enough how much your support has meant to me these last few weeks. 

Your comments and your love kept me going. I truly value it so much and it fuels my creativity. Please let me know what you thought? It is incredibly rewarding and motivating to hear from you!

I really struggled with this update. It was much longer and took a lot out of me... I hope you love the final product as much as I do…

Bonus: The gloves Jimin sent his Luna...

[xreaderxo]

My Moon

Zuko x reader

Soulmate AU

genre: angst but with a good ending 

warning: death, sickness

summary: Every Fire Nation citizen gets a tattoo on their wrist when they turn sixteen. This tattoo shows the first words your soulmate will say to you. Some people find this person immediately, and spend the rest of their lives together. Some people never get the chance.

_

"Why do you keep that ribbon on your wrist?"

Zuko clenched his fists by his sides, exhaling a breath of fire in frustration. Sozin's Comet was in three days, and this was the fourth time Aang has stopped training to ask a question that had nothing to do with firebending.

"Aang," Zuko said impatiently, "Stop avoiding training."

"But I want to know!" Aang clasped his hands together. "That's where your soulmate's first words are, right? Why are they covered?"

Zuko groaned. "Because I don't have time for a soulmate. I was too focused on finding you, and now I need to focus on defeating my father."

"So you've never looked at it!?" Aang's eyes widened before he lunged forward. "Let me see! Let me see!"

"Wha- Aang!" Zuko yelled, trying to pry the airbender off of him as he stretched his right arm out of his reach. "Get off!"

"I want to know what your words are!"

"Why are you interested in my love life!?"

"Because I would kill to have what you have and you don't appreciate it!"

"Don't appreciate what?" Sokka asked, popping a grape into his mouth as he walked up to the hill where the two were sparring.

"Sokka!" Aang shouted. "Take Zuko's ribbon off!"

"Ooh, I love annoying Zuko!" Sokka said gleefully, grabbing Zuko's wrist and ripping the black fabric off. "Uh, why am I annoying Zuko?"

"Because Zuko's never looked at his soulmate tattoo!" Aang snatched a frozen Zuko's wrist and read it. "I want the last thing I see to be the moon," he read.

"Poetic." Sokka nodded approvingly. "I like them already, they like staring at my first girlfriend!"

Zuko blinked. "Wait, hold on- your first girlfriend actually turned into the moon? Like literally?"

That was a year ago. Zuko was Fire Lord now. Currently, he was headed to a secluded cliff he had found the day before to meditate. There was a sickness going around, and although it wasn't contagious, Iroh hadn't wanted him to be in a populated area. So, he was going to be alone away from other people.

Or so he thought.

He halted as he entered the clearing to the cliff. There was a person- you -lying down in the grass, staring at the moon. Remembering his tattoo, a spark of hope lit in his chest. He was Fire Lord. The war was over. It would be safe to fall in love. Maybe this was his soul mate.

His hope quickly turned to dread as he got closer. They had the sickness. Judging from their skin and frailty, they probably didn't even have an hour left.

Still, even if they aren't his soulmate, Zuko wasn't about to let anybody die alone.

"Uh, it's pretty cold out," he said as he got closer, and visibly winced. It wasn't cold. It was the middle of summer in the Fire Nation.

You shrugged, not having the strength to sit up to see who your soulmate was.. "I want the last thing I see to be the moon."

Zuko's breath hitched. "No," he whispered.

You chuckled bitterly. "We finally meet, and I'll be dead by morning. Sounds about right." you paused. "You can go, if you want. I don't want you to have to see this."

"I'm not letting my soulmate die alone," Zuko said determinedly, his legs shaking, and laid down beside you. You looked at him, and raised your eyebrows in shock as you recognized him.

"Well, look at that! If I hadn't gotten this cough, I would've been the queen!" you joked. "Nice to meet you, Fire Lord. I'm Y/N."

Y/N. It was the most beautiful word Zuko had ever heard.

"Just call me Zuko," he replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You two laid there for a few minutes, drinking in each other's appearances. You knew he was handsome, as you'd seen his face plastered all over the Fire Nation for years. First listed as a traitor and most recently, Fire Lord. He was even more handsome up close. His amber eyes had flecks of fire orange in them. And his scar? You thought that it was the most handsome part of all. It showed he'd been through something terrible, and overcame it.

Zuko couldn't believe someone so beautiful could exist. You were gorgeous. Stunning. Even in your frail state, your complexion blemished from the sickness, your cheekbones jutting out sharply, Zuko had never seen anything so divine.

"Y/N?" he whispered, his eyes locked with yours.

"Yes, Zuko?"

He gulped, bringing his other hand to cup your cheek and resting his forehead on yours. "Tell me everything about you."

And so you did.

You told him your childhood. You told him about the first time you broke a bone. You told him how you felt when your father died. You told him that your favorite food is Roast Duck. You told him that you always planned on naming your daughter Izumi. You told him how you donated everything you owned to the Ursa Medical Center that Zuko had recently set up. You told him how excited you were whenever you heard that the Avatar had returned, because finally there would be peace.

"I was so happy that it was you who became Fire Lord and not somebody else." You had your head on his chest at this point, his legs tangled with yours.

"Why?" Zuko's fingers were running through your sweat-soaked hair, the wetness not registering.

"Because," you hummed, "You betrayed the Fire Nation to help the Avatar. You were willing to leave everything you'd ever known to bring peace." you paused, tilting your chin so you could look at him. "Plus, you're pretty cute, too."

Zuko blushed as the corners of his mouth turned upwards. "You think I'm cute? Have you seen yourself?"

You chuckled weakly. "Yeah, I'm a real dime piece right now." Zuko's hand stilled. He leaned up on one elbow so he could look down on you.

"Y/N," he said seriously, "You are incandescently beautiful. You are oh so pulchritudinous. You are the most stunning of all of God's creations."

You smiled at him. If your body could produce enough water for it, tears would be running down your face. "Thank you," you whispered. As Zuko laid back down, you spoke again. "Now, tell me everything about you."

So he did. He told you about his mother. He told you about being banished. He told you how it was trying to capture the Avatar. He told you about his time in Ba Sing Se. He told you about his uncle. He told you about being friends with the Avatar, and joining their group. He told you what it was like to face Azula. He told you about how Aang and Sokka had ripped off the ribbon, which you both shared a laugh at.

He sighed. "I wish we had more time," he choked out. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know I just met you, but I can't imagine living without you."

"Well, that's the thing about soulmates," you replied, running your hand through his hair and bringing his head down to yours until your lips were centimetres apart. "We'll never truly be apart."

And then Zuko was kissing you. He was kissing your lips and your nose and your cheeks and your forehead and your eyebrows and back to your lips. He was kissing you as though he thought that if he kissed you enough, he could save you. He was kissing you as if it would be the last kiss you would ever share, which was likely.

You were the one to break the kiss, as you were losing breath. You could feel it coming, and Zuko could, too. "I- I don't know what to do," he whimpered, holding you closer. "We've only known each other for an hour. We should be able to have a life together, to grow old together. It isn't fair!"

"Shh, Zuko," you hummed into the hollow of his neck. "We'll see each other again, my love. And whenever you miss me, just look at the moon. This," you pulled back and gestured to the moon above, "Is our moon. Forever." You laid your head back on his chest, and your voice was barely above a whisper when you next spoke. "Can you sing me to sleep?"

Zuko's heart was breaking, but he couldn't say no. "Of course," he hiccuped, choking back a sob, before he began singing a song his mother used to sing him.

“Deep in the meadow, under the willow A bed of grass, a soft green pillow Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes And when again they open, the sun will rise.

Here it's safe, here it's warm Here the daisies guard you from every harm Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true Here is the place where I love you.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away A cloak of leaves, A moonbeam ray, Forget your woes and let your troubles lay And when again it's morning, they'll wash away.

Here it's safe, here it's warm Here the daisies guard you from every harm Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true Here is the place where I love you.”

As he finished the song, his heart stopped. You weren't breathing. Agony, the worst pain he’d ever felt, ripped through his chest. An inhuman scream erupted from his throat as he pulled your body into him, his tears falling. He'd just met you, and yet you had become his world. And you were gone.

He stayed there the entire night until Iroh found him the next morning, still clutching your ice-cold corpse. Iroh's heart snapped, immediately knowing what must have happened. It took hours to pry Zuko away from you. He spent the next week crying into Iroh's shoulder. "I don't think she heard me tell her I love her, Uncle," he sputtered before another sob wracked his shoulders.

"She knew," Iroh assured him. "I promise. She knew."

He arranged a funeral for you that was fit for a Fire Queen, and had you buried on the cliff where you had met.

_

Fire Lord Zuko's reign lasted sixty-seven years. After much pressure from his advisors about an heir, he did end up taking a wife. Her name was Mikoto, from a noble Fire Nation family. Her soulmate had died as well, so it was a perfect fit. They both knew they could never love another, but they were best friends.

They had a daughter, who Zuko named Izumi. He was still alive whenever she took over as Fire Lord, and he'd never been more proud of anything or anyone.

And yet, he still missed you. He thought about you every day, and every night he would sit and stare at the moon. Sometimes he would cry, thinking about what could have been. Other times he would be happy, telling you about Izumi's accomplishments. He would always sleep with the window open, so that the last thing he saw before he went to sleep was your moon.

He died at the age of one hundred in his sleep, his face still turned towards the moon.

_

Zuko's eyes opened to find himself in the Spirit World face to face with Iroh himself.

"Uncle!" he cried, wrapping him into a hug.

"Hello, Zuko!" Iroh said with a smile. "It's nice to see you again!"

"Hey Sifu Hotman, you better give me a hug, too!" Zuko whirled around to see Aang, and his smile widened as he jumped into the Avatar's arms. Stepping back, Zuko noticed that Aang was a lot older than he was.

"Why am I seventeen again?" he asked.

"For the same reason that I am twenty-five," Iroh explained, "The age I was when my son was born. Here, you remain the age you were when you were at your happiest."

"I was happiest when I was twenty-one, when Katara and I got married," Aang explained. "You're seventeen because that's how old you were when you met them."

Zuko froze as he heard footsteps behind him, before whirling around.

"Hello, My Love," you said. You were healthy and in a beautiful red gown. Zuko's breath hitched, his eyes filling with tears. He ran forward to envelop you in a hug.

"I've missed you, too," you chuckled as he peppered your face with kisses. The two of you stared at one another, soaking in each other's appearances yet again. He rested his forehead against yours.

"We can finally spend forever together," he said in what was meant to be a whisper, but he was so elated that it came out as a yell.

"I can't wait," you replied in the same tone.

"I love you." The words Zuko had been wanting to tell you finally left his lips.

"I know," you answered, cupping his cheeks with your hands. "I love you, too."

As the two of you shared another kiss, the full moon above seemed to shine a little brighter.

[spidernana]

Day 4: Tired

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34214341/chapters/85306531

Some days it was good to be a basically invisible, ephemeral being. It came in handy when snatching things out of unsuspecting monsters' pockets, drawing on people's faces while they slept, and sticking gum in obnoxious do-gooders' hair.

Chara still hadn't forgiven her for that one... heheh.

But some days, Frisk was convinced that it was the hardest thing in the universe. Those days were ones like these, when her absent-minded floating around the chimney tops in Snowdin Village (not any one in particular... the skeleton brothers' just happened to have a great view over the forest) was interrupted by a louder than usual slam of the front door, so hard the windows shook in their frames and several drifts of snow slid from the roof and to the ground below.

Couldn't have been Papyrus... she'd seen the lanky layabout slouching off towards Waterfall with Chara hours ago. They'd be sure to be gone til the night cycle, at the very least... Chara loved to watch the crystals in the dark, and her skeletal bone-friend loved to distract her from them as best as possible.

Tsk.

So it was Sans... and he was in a mood.

Not that that was an unusual event. Sans always seemed to be in a mood, ranging from gloating giddiness to tempestuous rage, and liked to inflict his varying tempers on everyone in his vicinity. On top of that, his personality was overwhelming and electrifying, despite his stature, so it was nearly impossible to even pretend to ignore him, he was just too magnetic for that.

You could say that she, in particular, need not play party to the older skeleton monster's vacillating moods... he should, among all others besides Chara, not even know she existed. And yet she tossed away a scrap of paper she had been reading, an advertisement of some sort for a fortune-telling monster bearing an evil grin and three eyes, drifted through the roof of the large, two-story house, through a dusty and disused attic chock full of lovingly packed boxes of photographs and baby monster toys (he had been a very doting older brother, while raising Papyrus... she'd looked over nearly every one of the pictures in her boredom), and through the ceiling of the room where she was certain Sans had stormed off to anyway, because despite all logic, despite her shock and trepidation over the fact... Sans could see her. He always had been able to, from the moment he spotted her hanging around behind Chara's shoulder, that first day on the snowy roads in the forest.

She didn't understand it... she'd been dead, and long forgotten, surely, by just about every monster in the Underground. The taste of that fact was a bitter one, one that had, at first, brought to life a vengeful hatred... but Chara's kind heart, and Sans' ability to see and speak with her (whether he wanted to or not; she'd hung around him almost incessantly since she'd discovered his ability, despite his explicit and violent demands that she be gone), had stilled her vengeance, and awoken something she hadn't felt in ages gone.

Curiosity.

This was what brought her to the captain of the Royal Guard's bedroom late in the evening, peeking through the plaster and paint cautiously to ensure he wasn't... busy (neither spoke of the time she had found him occupied, for lack of a better term... though she thought of it, on occasion), and found the skeleton monster, oddly still wearing his armor, collapsed face first on his extravagant and lusciously made-up bed. All the blacks and reds blended in so well that she nearly didn't spot him lying there, and wouldn't have but for the long and weary groan he let out, muffled by the pillow he seemed to be hugging.

The mischievous grin that had grown across her face, in anticipation of annoying the prickly monster further, vanished as she watched him hug the pillow to himself tighter, the plates of his armor catching the light of the one lamp he had bothered to turn on.

This wasn't like him at all. Something was wrong.

Slowly, so slowly that she almost felt silly for doing it (it's not as though her movements made any sound... she just had the strangest inclination not to disturb him ), Frisk glided down from the ceiling to the floor, to dither uselessly at his bedside. The crack slowly but surely marching its way over the top of his skull seemed to grin at her, from this angle, mocking her inability to help anyone now, and for a moment, a long, silent moment that carried and echoed and stung, she considered just leaving again. He'd never appreciated her presence, not really... she liked to hang around just to get a rise out of him, honestly, and he was always willing to give her that.

But now... there was no desire to pester him now, and in the lack of her usual occupation, she was uncertain of what to do. She could offer him little comfort... that sort of thing was outside her wheelhouse. Should she go to Waterfall, and tell Chara that her best friend was in need of her company (more than the mutt, at least...)? Maybe she could-

“If you are here to mock me, princess, I would like for you to get on with it and leave me. I am not in the mood for much more distress than I've already dealt with today.”

Frisk jolted, any remaining fragments of a soul she still had nearly leaping from her ghostly chest. Sans hadn't moved from his position, face still buried in his pillow and legs curled nearly up against his chest, but had somehow known she was there.

Another curiosity...

“I'm... I'm not gonna do that today,” she managed to whisper, once her shock had settled, and sat on the edge of the bed, as near to him as she felt she could without upsetting him further. For a monster his age, and an unmated one at that, Sans was rigorously insistent on propriety, and had nearly shouted himself hoarse the first time she'd welcomed herself into his bedroom, despite the fact that she was all but literally a ghost. He'd given up that fight awhile ago, after she'd made it clear she didn't intend to listen to him on that account, but she did allow him the space he insisted two unmated people required between them.

Not that her touching him would do anything. No one had ever felt it when she'd tried to make contact with them before... she had the ability to touch and manipulate inanimate objects, but had never been able to exert her will enough to affect anything living.

Maybe if she touched their souls... but that was another thing entirely. Off-limits. Taboo, and akin to possession, more than likely.

She was getting lost in her thoughts again. Damnit.

When she withdrew from her own, slightly see-through head, it was to face the monster she had sat beside head on, his cracked and narrowed sockets, lit with fiery pinpricks of scarlet magic, watching her with clear and disdainful mistrust. It was always such a rush, to know he could see her... Chara could feel her presence and hear her, but Sans was the only one that had ever actually looked at her, after she'd woken up as a spirit.

“You'll forgive my skepticism, considering your proclivity to bother me at every possible moment,” he scoffed, laying his skull on the pillow again but keeping his face turned towards her, and Frisk could only shrug. She had no way to refute that, in all honesty... it was true.

Why did it leave her aching, in the strangest and most impossible way?

“Fair enough. You just... don't seem okay. Are you? ...okay?” she replied, tapping ethereal fingers against a nonexistent knee, and Sans flicked the flecks of light in his sockets over her face, his mistrust lingering for another, tense moment before, alarmingly, he seemed to buckle, the tension in his body falling away. His sockets turned away, to consider his intricately decorated duvet, and his arms clenched more tightly around his pillow, until she could almost hear the cotton within complaining.

“...You are possibly the only person I can tell this to, with full confidence that it will not leave the room,” he murmured, his jaw, lined with sharpened fangs, gritting as he chewed over whatever was going on inside his skull, and Frisk leaned closer, now more than rapt.

Sans sighed, not even glancing up to look at her, and squeezed his sockets shut, as though his words hurt for him to even be able to consider seeing them realized.

“The queen has been facing criticism for giving Chara refuge rather than killing them... and she has decided to blame me for it. All I have heard for the past two weeks have been calls for my head, or at the very least my resignation. I have no intent to back down, and I can more than defend myself, but...” he paused, his words falling away and his expression hardening.

“But I doubt myself. Did I truly have a good reason to spare them? Was I blinded by foolish sentiment? And my brother... would it have been kinder for Chara to die before he knew they were soulmates? Losing her now would kill him, but then... perhaps it would not have. I do not know. And it irks.”

He turned his face away again, pressing it deep within the comforting embrace of his pillow.

“I am weary of it all, princess. More tired than I ever have been,” he murmured, Frisk could only stare at the back of his skull, at a complete loss. She knew her mother could be petty, but this was just disgraceful. Mercy was a new sentiment for most monsters, certainly, but Toriel couldn't really be so cowardly as to throw the only person that stood up for a helpless human amongst literal monsters under the bus.

Well. Maybe she could. She'd been cowardly in much more pressing circumstances too...

Frisk teetered there, for a moment, on the brink of simply leaving him to his difficulty (who was she to give advice? She'd utterly failed where he had succeeded, she had no right or ability-)... before letting out a ghostly sigh of her own. She reached out a hand, from a long dead but still present instinct, to touch the back of his skull comfortingly, knowing full well that he wouldn't feel it but wanting to do something all the same.

“As... as someone that went that road... made decisions that cost monsters their freedom, and someone dear to me their life... I can tell you that you made the best possible choice. Chara deserves to live, and monsters can find another way, rather than through hate. I didn't see it then. But you did. Don't doubt yourself over that, not when you've done more good than anyone,” she muttered quietly, rubbing her thumb over the back of his skull, and then let out a chuckle, shaking her head as she pulled her hand back to her own custody.

“And as gross as it is to see them together... Chara and Papyrus deserve the love they have. I don't think you really believe it would have been better for him to never have felt that way. Not with how much you care about him,” she finished, smiling despite herself, and fell silent when Sans, his armor clanking against itself solidly (that stuff must weight a ton... crap, how strong was he?), sat up and turned to look at her, almost through her, so hard that she felt she shouldn't have said anything at all.

She thought she saw his hand start to rise to touch the back of his skull, for an ironically breathless moment, hope singing through her so quickly and suddenly that it made her ghostly head spin (what...? Why did she want him to be able to feel her so badly?), but he merely adjusted the seating of his armor on his shoulders before folding his arms across his chest and raising his cracked brow.

“Surprisingly insightful, for you. I must say I am impressed,” he snarked, the barest hint of a smile pulling at his fanged mouth, and Frisk rolled her eyes, pushing off the bed and into the air with a crude snort.

“I've got more where that came from too, if you'd ever do more than cuss at me. Don't you know how to talk to a lady?” she sniped, sticking her tongue out at him, and Sans barked out a laugh, smirking fully up at her now.

“Let me know when a lady is present, and I will treat with her appropriately,” he replied cattily, and Frisk, with a huff and a blown raspberry, glided her way up through the ceiling without another word, though, for some reason, their banter had left a warm and permeating glow within her, spreading from her invisible fingertips to her ghostly toes.

She'd seen another side of Sans today... one that had surprised her. Maybe she should try to talk to him more, rather than just pestering him constantly. She could ease back on it...

Heh. Only a little, though.

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

Sitting cross-legged on the edge of his bed, suddenly alone and feeling a little more empty for it, Sans looked, for a moment, at the spot that the ephemeral vision of both loveliness and irritation had sat in only a moment before, and raised a gloved hand to rub at the back of his skull.

As she had spoken to him, words of wisdom that had touched his soul more than he cared to admit, he had felt... something, though he wasn't sure what, glide across the back of his skull. More than a breeze, and less than a caress... could she have touched him?

She was an odd enough being, for a ghost... maybe she was able to. Or maybe she was something else entirely...

He brought his hand back around, rubbing his fingers together and looking at them intently, as though expecting something, some sort of proof, that it had really happened. Of course, nothing was there... but the sudden and aching sensation of disappointment was such that he had to hold his hand to his chest for a moment, thrown by how much such a short and simple meeting had affected him.

Perhaps it was nothing.

...or perhaps it was everything.

[anasticklefics]

Unsaid

Fandom: Star Wars

Characters: Poe/Finn

Summary: They land on a planet that has a field that tickles anyone who comes near, and Poe is having one too many feelings about it.

A/N: My first fic back from hiatus! Honestly I’m only posting something because I wrote more than half of this while I was gone, but felt inspired to finish it today. I hope you like it, I’m very proud 🥺

Words: 2k

A breeze of heat ruffled Poe’s hair as he stood at the edge of the Field of Laughter on a planet that had too much of an orange tint for his liking. It reminded him of dry, unforgiving land full of sand and nothing but sand, but mostly it reminded him of the times he’d been stranded, so thirsty he could die, running for his life over the scorching ground. Just last week, that is. It reminded him of being near death, and of watching Finn and Rey getting dragged just out of his reach.

“It’s okay, you know,” Finn told him now, watching Poe as Poe watched the field. “If you want to try it, I mean.”

Poe chanced a glance at him, wondering what the orange tint made his blush look like. “I’m good.”

“Poe.” Finn had mastered the knowing smile he occasionally shot his way wonderfully. An amusement to it, but also something kind that made Poe all the more embarrassed whenever it was aimed at him. Vulnerability, even during the war, was always something that terrified him, even more than the war.

“Really, I’m okay,” he said, averting his gaze back toward the dancing blades of yellow grass. They’d been told the field was bigger than it seemed, twisting and turning behind the mountains and the trees Poe had been surprised to find here. They all looked dead, but were apparently perfectly fine.

“If you’re worried someone will see or hear you we could go further.”

“Why do you think I want to try it?”

“Oh, come on now.” Finn bumped their shoulders together. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

The Field of Laughter was said to be a very ticklish experience; so much so that the natives who lived by it had developed a thicker skin, quite literally so, in order to survive having to cross it. It had saved them valuable time, not having to walk around it, and it only got a couple of giggles out of the younger ones now.

Poe was absolutely certain he would never escape the dancing blades, whose only purpose in life was to tickle whomever walked over and through them. They were kept regularly short, cut with hovering blades and quick hands, as they could probably tickle someone to death if they were able to trap them. A field of torture for most, but something else to Poe.

“I promise to pull you out if it becomes too much,” Finn continued, but Poe could tell he wasn’t going to push it more. It was up to Poe to decide whether he was brave enough to be vulnerable in more than one way.

They’d landed there by accident. A mission gone wrong, but not so wrong it had really cost them anything. Just time, which they sometimes couldn’t afford and other times were swimming in. They’d been fortunate, for once, to be rich enough to give it away so easily to a planet that neither attacked them nor wanted to help them. Proud of their history, but wary of their grounds, meaning they told them everything but let them see little. Poe knew of the group that had settled not too far away from their makeshift camp, keeping an eye on them and making sure they didn’t stray past the point they’d been allowed to see. Poe wasn’t sure why they’d been forced to stay by the Field of Laughter of all places, but he’d been thoroughly on edge for the past two days because of it.

“Better be careful,” Jess had said, pointing to the field. “If you piss me off I might throw you in.”

Poe hadn’t replied, his ears still ringing with the story of the field they’d just been told. Lab-made. Torture device. Impossible to stop. It had made him want to peel his skin off to hear it.

“Poe.” Finn, his one and only confidant in this, hadn’t teased him like Poe had feared, but that knowing look had almost been worse. “Come on, let’s take a walk.”

One thing you should know about Poe Dameron: he had absolutely no idea how to handle any type of feeling that involved vulnerability, which included embarrassment and fear and love and lust. Unfortunately his feelings about tickling had traces of all, to a certain point. It was embarrassing to love something most people hated. It was terrifying to love something to the point of sensuality.

Finn had found out by accident, too. A drunken night, Poe too touch-starved and exhausted and in love with him to keep quiet, and while whatever they were was still unsaid and only shown in quiet fingertips to skin, Finn was all too eager to give him what he wanted after he’d let it slip. Poe refused to talk about it now, all of it unsaid and quiet, all theirs but barely.

Finn hadn’t mentioned the field as they’d started their walk, but Poe couldn’t look at him as they’d walked along the edge of it, maybe too close to it for comfort. One misstep and he could fall in, and then he’d have to face one too many truths at once.

Truth was, he almost wished someone would push him in. Just as an excuse.

“It almost doesn’t look like the blades are dancing,” was the first thing he’d said. “There’s no rhythm to it.”

“I’m sure they’re trying their best,” Finn had replied and Poe had laughed, nearly hysterically, as if giddy at the idea of having them dance over his skin.

“How does it even work?” he said now, two days later, the evening sun still bright and orange, but fading ever so slightly by the minute. “Like, do they go for your feet first or trip you or what?” He was only able to ask because it sounded so stupid to ask it.

“No idea.” Finn tilted his head at the field. “Does it work if you’re dressed and wearing shoes?”

“No idea.”

“Maybe we should ask someone. I’m sure they’d be willing to share.”

“We’d look too invested.”

Finn grabbed his wrist, squeezing once and calming him instantly. “We don’t have to.”

Poe went to bed untickled, tangled up in Finn’s embrace.

*

He only went because he’d dreamt of it and had learned to take dreams seriously years ago. In his dream it had been intoxicating, the sensation unbearable enough to have felt real, and so he went, wondering if he would leave or die there, laughing until it hurt him. That was the most fascinating part. Where did the line go between pleasure and pain when it came to something like this? How much could he take? Were Finn’s occasional prodding hands enough or was he capable of handling more?

In retrospect there was probably a safer way to figure this out, but Poe stopped by the edge of the field, feet bare and pants rolled up to his calves, with a relief he rarely ever felt regarding this. The early morning sun was more of a soft canary yellow than orange, and Poe felt he could breathe more easily.

“Hello,” he said, his voice a murmur as he bent to get closer to the grass. “Aren’t you causing a lot of commotion.”

He didn’t feel stupid to speak to it. Somehow he felt it was alive, just communicating differently than him. He’d walked as far as he’d been able to, but felt as if his laughter would still be heard if it caught him. Many years ago, when he’d had too much pride to admit to vulnerability, he’d been captured by a rope and remained hanging upside down for longer than was comfortable, squirming, struggling, but refusing to scream for help. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep quiet during this.

The blades did nothing to acknowledge his presence and Poe longed for a thick forest - preferably a dark green one - to hide him from view when he reached out a finger to hover above it. An idiot, they would call him if they saw him. An idiot that’s asking for it.

If only they knew how desperately he was really asking. How loud and persistent and starved his pleas were, in the midst of a war that gave him no privacy to be candid.

“Would you let go of me if I asked nicely?” The blades were just out of reach. He could imagine them suddenly reaching forward and gripping him by the wrist, pulling him in and under for the rest of his giggly eternity.

But of course, they merely kept dancing. He wiggled his index finger over them. “Are you ticklish yourselves?”

The silence around him was deafening. If he fell he would be heard by the whole universe.

If he didn’t fall he could pretend he had. Say he’d been sleepwalking, hence his lack of proper footwear, and had ended up in this ticklish awakening.

Finn would know, naturally, but Finn would never tell. Would only try to gently coax the answers out of him and Poe would blush and blush and blush until he would say something stupid that would have Finn either laughing or rolling his eyes. Finn would drop it only momentarily, for it was too big of a thing to do on your own for him to never bring up again.

Poe wasn’t surprised when Finn appeared a moment later, his steps quiet but not non-existent. “Hi.”

Poe sighed and straightened, turned to glance at him quickly to hide the already spreading flush. “Hi.”

“I knew I’d find you here.”

“Dead or alive?”

“Hmm, either. Happy it was the latter.” He stopped beside him, letting their shoulders brush as they gazed over the field. “Are you gonna do it?”

“Not sure. Honestly I might’ve stood here for hours if you hadn’t arrived.”

“I can hold your hand. Pull you back out.”

Poe looked at him. Finn, with his own worries and dark circles under his eyes from how little he actually slept and his ever present way of reaching out without expecting anything back. If he trusted anyone with this it was him.

“Okay.”

Finn met his gaze. “Okay?”

Poe held out his hand. “Okay.”

Finn took it.

*

In retrospect it was both an overwhelming and underwhelming experience. The idea of it, the actual act of stepping his bare foot onto the field, still made his heart race. But while it did tickle it wasn’t the hysteria he’d been imagining. To be fair, he only let it go as far as to his calf before he decided he’d had enough, but for someone as sensitive as him it should’ve been worse.

It did tickle, though. It tickled a lot.

“I think you’re just too used to the sensation,” Finn told him after they’d returned to their quarters.

Poe huffed in embarrassment. “Not like that.”

“Oh, come on. I’ve pinned you plenty of times.”

“Not like that,” Poe said, quieter.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

As he’d stepped onto the field, Finn’s hand tight over his, Poe had felt fear and excitement and shame and acceptance, all at once, as the blades started dancing over his skin. When he’d realized, after the blades had started tickling between his toes, that he wasn’t able to actually remove his foot from the grass, was when he’d started laughing and couldn’t stop.

“I’ve never heard you laugh like that, though,” Finn said now. “I’m actually offended. I’m definitely taking this as a challenge.”

“How did I laugh?” Poe asked, because yes okay sometimes embarrassment made him stupid.

“Desperately. More high pitched than usual.” Finn’s smirk was intoxicating and fucking terrifying. “Want to try to recreate it?”

“People will hear us,” Poe said, already laughing stupidly, nervously, too smitten for his own good.

“I have a perfectly good palm to muffle it.”

And so the rest of Poe got tickled, too.

[skiyoosmi]

if fate permits

⤷ chapter twenty four: just one last time

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Was I such an evil person in my past life to deserve this agony?

The damned question circles your mind over and over again as you walk mindlessly, vision blurry due to the tears that were continuously welling up your eyes. You've always thought watching him fall in love with someone else was already painful enough, but even that couldn't prepare you for the wrenching feeling that your heart felt when you cut the thread, forced to cut him out of your life, figuratively and literally speaking. Now that you're experiencing it yourself, you think that's the reason why people like you were forced to forget— the feeling of your heart endlessly falling to the dark abyss was not something anyone could live with for the rest of their lives, wondering what was so wrong with you that he couldn't bring himself to love you even with a thread physically connecting the two of you.

Stupid gods, they can't even do one thing right. His words echo and you choke out what seems like a pathetic attempt for a laugh, lips wobbling as you cry, "I know right, Tsum. They're so stupid."

Soulmates are so stupid. Your eyes linger on your thread, barely red as it began to become duller each hour that passed and had uneven ends due to the cutting that happened just a while ago. The red string, once bright and glowing in color, that kept you close to Atsumu for so many years, gone in just a few seconds and it felt so unfair, so cruel. Because how could someone decide your fate just like that?

You just have to get through it tonight, YN. Tomorrow, when you wake up, you won't even know that kind of heartbreak. Tomorrow, you repeat to yourself, trying to lessen the gut wrenching feeling swimming inside you; keyword, tried. Still, it doesn't stop the liquids that gather in your eyes and the hiccups that escape your mouth. Because you just loved him so goddamn much that you were willing to give up everything of you just for him, just for his happiness... and yet, he couldn't do it for you, not even one bit of him. And with that, you find yourself drowning in self-pity— no matter how much you sacrificed, no matter how long you put him first, it all still ended with you cutting the thread, the thing you treasured the most. It just wasn't meant to be.

The ringing of your phone resonates through the quiet and unknown park you had stopped by, the picture of your brother popping up on the screen.

"YN. Where in the hell are you? It's already late! Your flight's tomorrow night. Mom's close to losing the last bits of her mind. Tell me whe—"

"'Yoomi," you sob like a child, the minimal strength that kept you standing up finally giving in to your overwhelming emotions as your legs gave out as well, falling on your butt as you clutched your chest in pain, "'Yoomi."

You tried to get words out but your heavy cries stopped you from doing so, only being able to speak out his name.

"YN? What happened? Hey... take a deep breath and tell me where you are, I'll come get you myself and then we can talk about it, yeah?"

The usual monotonous voice he spoke vanished into thin air and was replaced with one that were filled with worry and concern. From the background, you can hear him telling your parents to just stay still, despite their sound of disapprovals, accompanied by the jiggling of keys which you figure were for the car, "YN, tell me where you are. Please."

"I... I..." you hiccup, looking around you for any prominent signs or landmarks, "I'm in a random park and t-there's a convenience store across. The one that we first went to when we moved to Tokyo."

"Okay. Just stay right there. I'm coming."

Kiyoomi takes a deep breath, lightly knocking on your bedroom door, sighing in relief when you responded with a quiet 'come in,' voice muffled. It has been past an hour since you arrived home, your parents opting to leave you alone as soon as they saw your swollen eyes; although, your brother couldn't obviously just sit still and look pretty, not when you're feeling like this when you're leaving tomorrow. He pushes the door open, wincing at the mess that welcomed him— some of your clothes were still not packed, luggages were lying down on the floor and there you were, on the bed, face down and shoved to the pillow.

"Did a storm pass by?" He asks, trying to at least lighten the mood, sitting at the foot of the bed and beginning to fix your things for you. He knew better than to pry, especially when he already had a guess on who brought you in such a devastated state. Instead of replying, you hold your hand up, he can see it for himself anyway.

His usually-calm demeanor breaks as he saw your thread, now in a dark maroon color. He stood up so quick that he felt lightheaded, "YN!"

Your head turns to him, eyes watering once more as you sob, "'Yoomi... I feel dead. Like my heart was forcefully ripped out of my chest. I... I don't know what to do... I can't take this."

He approaches you, engulfing your form in a hug, whispering his comforts as he speaks a gazillion of curses to Atsumu in his mind. He swears he might just punch the blonde to death as soon as he sees him, "You'll be okay. We're here. You're gonna be fine."

"I... I don't want to forget him... Please don't take him away from me... I love him," you cry out to the gods above, praying so desperately even if you knew it was impossible. You were no one special, who were you to be graced with such a miracle? And yet here you were, weeping the same prayers over and over again, knowing deep inside that no matter how much you beg, even if you were already on your knees, tomorrow would still come— the tomorrow that has no Miya Atsumu in it.

At that moment, you wished you hadn't just befriended him, you wished you just left him alone when he was playing with your brother; because nothing could compare to the pain of losing all of him— your soulmate, your beloved, your best friend— in just a matter of seconds.

Kiyoomi finishes packing for you by the time you calmed down a bit and leaves you alone, speaking about you should rest for your flight. As if you could do that... the moment you close your eyes, it's really over because the next time you open them, it's going to be a new YN. Gone will be you who knew each and every part of him, replaced with someone who won't even be able to recognize him...

Yet despite your heart's refusal towards the truth, your mind contradicts it and thinks back to his previous words, "...it has been too long of waiting..."

With that, your resolve crumbles into pieces and you find your eyes fluttering close. Somehow, you give out a small and sad smile, heart aching because of him... just one last time.

I'm sorry for not keeping my promise, Atsumu.

note. no words just... tears up because the next one might just be sadder than this

[ezzydean]

“ i could have lost you today! do you know what that would have done to me? ” - Peter & Stiles

Stiles manages to hold his tongue until they’re safely tucked away in Peter’s apartment. Away from their enemies and allies alike. Away from the world that seems so determined to take every last bit of Stiles’ happiness and chew it into mush before spitting it out to dissolve on the concrete of the abandoned strip mall parking lot that is his life, complete with weeds struggling to survive as they spring up through the cracks and crawl across the pitted concrete.

So maybe he needs to take a few deep breaths and step back from the cache of flowing words and artful descriptions his creative writing class has tucked away in his mind.

It doesn’t matter what words he uses. He’s angry and frustrated and on edge and the way Peter is looking at him like he wants to pin him down and gobble him up is not doing anything other than make him even angrier.

“That was dangerous, Peter. Dangerous and stupid and ridiculous and if I’m saying it was stupid? Me. The undisputed king of doing stupid shit without thinking it through? You know it was fucking stupid.”

“Oh please.” Peter rolls his eyes as he saunters towards his bedroom to change out of his dirty clothes. “I’m a werewolf, darling. There is very little in this world that can even leave a scratch that doesn’t heal within a few hours.”

“Yeah and one of those things is a band of pissed off hunters who have gone rogue, no longer follow a code, and are systematically taking out smaller packs one by one.” Stiles doesn’t bother to raise his voice. One: because he’s tired. Two: because he knows that Peter can hear him no matter where he is in the apartment, even if he whispered.

He throws himself on to the couch, spreading out over it so Peter will have to either move him, sit on him, or sit in the chair off to the side when he comes back. Yes he’s being a little bit petty. But he had just watched Peter throw himself into a fight with a bunch of off the rail hunters who were hellbent on destroying anything and everything supernatural that they could. It doesn’t matter that Peter managed to not get hurt this time. It doesn’t matter that Issac and Derek had swooped in with an almost eerily synchronized move to pull the attention off of Peter.

Stiles had still seen it. He had seen the blade oozing with the twisted version of wolfsbane these particular hunters had been known for. He’d seen it centimeters away from Peter’s chest before he had been grabbed by Isaac and yanked out of the way. A millisecond later and that blade would have been in Peter’s heart. He’s going to be having nightmares about Isaac being too late for weeks. About Isaac reaching out and the blade already in Peter’s chest. About Peter on the ground bleeding and gasping and fading away because this particular wolfsbane blend is made to be quick and vicious and damn near impossible to burn out of a werewolf’s system.

Stiles is good. He can do a lot of shit. And maybe, maybe, if they were mated or bonded or had claimed each other or whatever he’d be able to save Peter even on the brink of death.

But they’re not.

He appreciates being the one to warm Peter’s bed and he knows that neither of them are with anyone else. But they’re not really even with each other so it’s only a small consolation.

Peter looms over him and Stiles peels his eyes open and glares up at him. He doesn’t let his eye rake over Peter the way he wants to. Doesn’t let himself give in to these instincts to curl around Peter and protect him.

Peter doesn’t want that. Peter doesn’t want Stiles to take up that position in his life. In his bed? Sure. On his side in a fight? Definitely. By his side in life? No thank you. Peter’s made it pretty clear where Stiles stands in that regard.

He gestures for Stiles to move his legs and when Stiles refuses Peter raises his brows. “What has you in such a mood? I barely even got a scratch on me and the hunters were put in their place. Everyone wins. Except the hunters, who are dead now.”

“Barely got a scratch?” Stiles hops to his feet, rage flooding him so fast that Peter actually leans back when Stiles leans towards him. “Barely a scratch? You were, quite literally, a hairbreadth away from death, Peter. If Isaac hadn’t grabbed you when he did you wouldn’t be here now.”

“But I am. Here and unharmed.” Peter reaches out for him and Stiles bats his hands away. “It was a risk, Stiles. We all take them every time we go into a fight.”

“Not all of us take unnecessary risks, Peter. You’re the one who taught me that unnecessary risks are just that: unnecessary.” Peter crosses his arms across his chest and takes a step back from Stiles.

“Be that as it may I still don’t see what has you so upset about this whole thing. So I took an unnecessary risk. What is the big deal?”

“The big deal? The big deal is that I could have lost you today! Do you know what that would have done to me? What losing you would do to me?”

Peter stares at him for a moment, words sinking in, before he scoffs and looks off towards the windows.

“You’d survive just fine without me. I’m sure you wouldn’t even miss me for that long. There are plenty of others out there who would fall over themselves to be with you,” Peter says quietly.

“I don’t care. I don’t want any of them. I want you, Peter. I don’t care how many people out there would be willing to be with me. I didn’t choose any of them. I chose you.”

Peter’s lip curls as he lets out a growl. “Oh, please. I’m not a choice. You know it. I know it. Hell even the hunters who come to try and kill us all know that I am, at best, a convenient fuck for you.”

Stiles’ mouth is already open to snap back when the mention of hunters makes him snap it shut. The hunters had been talking amongst themselves just before Peter had leapt into the middle of them and the whole plan had gone out the window. Is that what they had been talking about? Is that what they had said?

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“Peter.” He waits until Peter drags his gaze from the windows and looks at him. “You’ve been my choice since before I even knew you were an option.”

“What?”

Well. This was either going to end in some really amazing sex and a new stage of their whatever they’ve been doing or it was going to ruin the best thing he’s ever had. But he is the undisputed king of doing stupid shit without thinking it through after all.

“You’ve been my choice since before I even knew you were an option,” he repeats. “The only reason I haven’t given in to my spark’s need to bond with you, to claim you as mine, is because you’ve never seemed to want anything more than a convenient fuck out of me.”

Peter’s eyes widen at ‘bond’ and ‘claim’ even as he winces at having the ‘convenient fuck’ part thrown back at him. He stares at Stiles and Stiles knows Peter is listening to his heartbeat and subtly scenting the air to measure the truth of Stiles’ words. Stiles learned a long time ago how to control his heartbeat and mask his scent but he had promised to never do it while the two of them were alone and fuck Peter is so blind if he can’t see all the ways Stiles bends for him where he’s steel for everyone else.

“You’ve never wanted that,” Peter finally whispers. “You’ve never—” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “No.”

“I’ve wanted it since the day you gave me a key to your apartment and told me you trusted me with it. You. Peter Hale. Trusting me with the key to your apartment. The key to your safe—”

Well shit.

Peter was blind to how far Stiles was willing to bend for him and Stiles was blind to how much Peter had already bent by him by giving Stiles his trust.

“As much as I loathe to admit it about myself,” Peter says softly as he reaches out for Stiles. “We’re both idiots when it comes to each other, aren’t we?”

Stiles collapses into Peter’s arms with a laugh. “Yeah,” he huffs as he buries his face against Peter’s neck. “But I’m your idiot. And you’re my idiot. So I guess it works out in the end.”

“I guess it does, darling. I guess it does.”