#stone: ... alright sir

[technically-human]

I just recently learned a cat fact that is so Robotnik coded that I had to share.

When cats headbutt you, they're doing more than just saying, 'I like this human'. They're essentially scent marking them, letting other cats in the area know that 'This one right here? Mine. This is my human now.'

I imagine Ivo would do something akin to that without really thinking about it once he finally accepted Stone into the lab. Maybe not nessicarily headbutts, but random shoulder pats/bumps/checks, leaving pieces of his own clothes on the backs of chairs so the smell rubs off on him, sets an air freshner around Stone's work area that smells like his own home.

Ivo can see that he's doing it and recognizes the patterns. But he can't fathom for the life of him, why he keeps on doing it. Stone is confused, and wonders if the doctor thinks he smells bad.

I like to think he does this regularly!

ko-fi

[miyanaxxi]

“You forgave Zubeia”

Bitch like you didn’t risk everything to hatch the son of the guy that killed your mother? ☠️

[alchemocha]

Show us the goods, Stone

Bonus versions under the cut!

[kisses4themissus]

A Foreign Love || In-ho x Reader

wc: 2.6k a/n: Ahh i had so much fun writing this request!! if you would like a happier ending do please send me a message or inbox me i don't mind warning: (spelling errors possibly?)

Pt 2 | masterlist

You nervously played with your hands as you walked around the room, every team had gotten a sixth player, it didn't help that you were seemingly the only foreigner there.

“Excuse me, could I join you all?” You questioned as you walked up to a group of elders. 

Player 100 scoffed and dismissed you with a wave of his hand. “Please sir, I see your team is short a member..” You tried to convince him. He groaned at you before turning towards you. “Can’t you take a hint and leave...entitled americans!” He scoffed at you, looking you up and down in disgust.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized before walking away. You sat down near the wall and let tears well up in your eyes. As you let out a shakily breath, covering your face with your hands. You didn't even want to play more games, all you wished was to go home.

As you cried, a gentle hand was placed on you shoulder, making you peek through your hands. Player 388 was squatted next to you. “Are you alright, miss?” He questioned, concern in his eyes, you nodded and wiped your eyes with your jacket sleeve.

“Do you have a team?” He asked, helping you stand up; You shook your head at him, “Everyone claimed to have a sixth player..” You explained, he nodded slowly at your words before motioning for you to follow him. 

Trailing behind him, he led you to a group of three older men and one girl around your age. “I have found our sixth!” He announced happily before stepping to the side to show you.

They all blinked as you waved to them, a small polite smile on your face.

“The foreigner?!” Player 390 exclaimed, one of the other men; player 456 smacked his arm before greeting you with a nod.

“In my game we had a foreigner, he did well, he just got given the wrong kind of person during a game...” Player 456 explained.

“Welcome!” Player 001 greeted, you smiled and nodded your head in acknowledgment “Thank you for having me.” You bowed slightly.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

You all sat together in a line as the games got announced. 

Ddakji, flying stones, gong-gi, spinning top, jegi and jacks.

“Jacks?” All of your teammates questioned. “You have to bounce a ball and collect little metal jacks and have to pick them up before the ball falls.” You explained, perking up. 

“Are you any good?” Player 001 questioned. You held your hand out and shook it side to side, “somewhat.” He nodded as the others began to claim the other games.

You all watched as the other teams went, before you knew it, you were the last team to go.

You all got up and waited as the guards chained you; Your team had done well til it had gotten to spinning top.

You groaned as he managed to toss it behind you all, he broke down, yelling at himself for his mistake, you leaned forward a bit and looked towards player 001, “We all make mistakes, maybe try your left hand!” You suggested, he nodded and winded the toy up before letting it go, you all waited with baited breath as it spun.

You all walked to the next mini game and began to hype player 456 up as he did jegi, you all moved forwards as both player 456 and 001 caught it with their legs that were tied together.

“You got this!” Player 388 smiled as the guard handed you the ball, you and your team squatted down so you could play on the small table, shaking you tossed the ball up, you had failed to catch the jack in time due to your shaking hands. You groaned, you had tried twice to get the jacks before the ball fell but failed, you were on the verge of a panic attack as you glanced up to the counter. 

“Calm down, we all make mistakes!” 001 tried to reassure. You just nodded and tried once more, you waited as the ball went up, with a swift hand you swiped up the mini jacks and the ball, you all yelled out in relief before running the fastest you could tied together.

You all cheered as you crossed the finish line; your beginning was cut short. Gunshots made you all flinch; The opposite team didn’t make it. You all stared horrified at the corpses while being unshackled.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

You all walked back to the dorm, everyone's eyes on your backs. You had linked arms with 222, she had explained she was pregnant at the beginning of the game, you had gained a need to protect her ever since. As you passed player 100 and his friends you stopped at his words, “Both the foreigner and the pregnant girl lived, they’re definitely not making it to the next round!” He laughed, you turned and went to open your mouth but stopped as 001 walked over to them.

“What does that say about you? Your team is all old men, who’s to say none of you don’t have heart failure in the middle of the next game? What kind of men are you all, denying an expecting mother and an innocent foreigner help?!” He scoffed as the group of older men stumbled over their words.

He wordlessly walked away to his bed by the others.

You unlinked your arms as 222 walked towards another player, leaving you to follow after 001.

He sat on his bed, sighing. You quietly approached his bed, watching as he rubbed his shoulder, trying to give his muscles a bit of comfort. “Thank you again mister.” You muttered out, earning his attention, he looked in your direction. 

“For letting me on your team, and standing up to that player…thank you mister!” You clarified, nervously playing with your fingers. 

“Someone had to put them in their place, it was a matter of time really.” He lightly chuckled, patting the space next to him on his bed, you sit down.

“Why are you in the game?” He questioned, you softly laughed. “I originally came here to study abroad.  emergencies happened in my home country, I trusted the wrong shady guy to send money to my family..” You explained, he listened.

“What brought you here mister?” you questioned, sitting up. “Hospital’s build up a lot of debt..” He sighed, you nodded. 

He snickered, making you look at him confused. “You don’t have to call me mister, it’s-!” As he went to give you his name the others walked over, talking about the next vote.

“I think I threw my shoulder out!” Player 390 sighed, moving his arm in a circle motion. “I’m sorry about earlier, everyone..” 001 apologized. You all dismissed his apology 

Player 222 had walked over and sat on the steps beside your shoes; she looked around as the group sat down together and talked. “Oh what about her ddakji  play, im surprised she didn’t break the ground when she threw it!” Player 390 laughed, she looked bashfully to the ground, a smile on her face.

“Or what about her jacks play, swiped them better than a thief!” 388 complimented making you giggle; Player 222 bowed her head as she looked at you all. “Thank you for including me on your team.” she thanked. You quickly nodded in agreement, “thank you, i’d probably be dead if i hadn't found a team in time..” They all nodded.

“I think we’re lucky you two joined us, we’d be lost with the jacks or stuck on ddakji forever.” 390 joked, earning laughs from everyone. 388 stood up in front of you all, “listen since we’re sticking together, i think we should learn each other's names, it would be a good idea right?” He questioned, waiting for someone to disagree but it never came, you all nodded.

“I’ll start, my name is kang dae-ho; dae means big and ho means tiger!” He grinned, you all nodded.

“That’s a very cool meaning!” You grinned at him. Player 390 cleared his throat, “My parents didn't give me a cool name, it's just park jung-bae. Righteous and twice.. I guess they want me to be twice as righteous.” He sighed.

“My name is kim jun-hee, i dunno what it means though..” She gave a soft look before glancing down to her hands.

“Jun-hee, once we get out of here you need to go see a doctor, stress isn't good for either you or the baby.” 001 told the young girl, who nodded.

“I’m oh young il.” He introduced himself, you all nodded. 

“It kinda sounds like your number!” You pointed out. “It’s easy to remember,” He laughed, before turning to 456.

“You’ve all heard my name, it's gi-hun.” He dismissed you all, “What’s your last name gi-hun?” Young il questioned. “It’s seong gi-hun.” He explained, earning nods.

“I’m y/n y/l/n, my name doesn’t have any meaning like your guys.” You smiled, earning a laugh from jungbae.

“Very american!” He commented, earning more comments of your nationality. 

“Is it true americans carry guns everywhere?” Jung-bae asked, earning a laugh from you. “Um, certain states..yes.” You grinned.

You all had continued talking till a loud buzz, out walked the guards with the voting machine, you all watched as they set it up and went over the rules once more.

You all looked at one another’s badges. Young il cover his as you looked at him with a slight frown. ‘I’m voting to leave this time.” He nodded at you. You grinned and nodded “Maybe when we get out, me and you can go for dinner?” You suggested, a smile on your face, he chuckled at you “I’d enjoy that.”

You grinned at him as he walked to the machine and pressed the X.

You watched as the screen counting the votes go up as more people voted to stay, you began to shake as gi-hun pressed the X but was outvoted, you swallowed a knot in your throat. 

You stood beside dae-ho and jun-hee in shock at the results, “I’m gonna be sick.” You muttered before running to the restrooms. 

In-ho waited til everyone had disbursed before signalling towards the guard in your direction, you were to busy trying not to vomit in the dorm to notice anyone gaze.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

Gi-hun had you all move your mattresses to the ground, he was on edge. He had told your group in his past game by the third game players had gotten violent during the night.

You sighed, laying down under the bed frame on your mattress. Slowly you had drifted off to sleep while the others continued to move more beds and set up a watch system.

You woke up during the night, having to use the restroom. You glanced over and saw everyone had fallen asleep. You quietly got up and walked to gi-hun, who watched for other players.

“I need to go use the restroom.” you told him, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “It's dangerous out there!” He warned, you glanced around the dorm, no one was actively awake.

“I'll be ok, no one seems to be up yet either!” 

Before he could respond, you walked past and towards the side door and knocked. A triangle guard opened the small hatch, before you could say anything the door opened fully for you. “oh, thank you! I won't be long.” You thanked them, before walking into the restroom.

Gi-hun silently watched, holding back his yawns. A tap of his shoulder alerted him, in-ho smiled at the man. “Ready to switch off?” He asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes, gi-hun nodded and traded spots; In-ho waited til he knew gi-hun was asleep before getting up from the floor and walked to the side door and knocked in a pattern, the triangle guard bowed their head and stepped to the side.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

You yawned as you walked out of the restroom, as you went to leave back to the dorm, the guard stopped you, standing in front of the door, facing you.

“Can i get by please?” You motioned to the door with your hand. They shook their head at you before speaking. “Follow the guard.” 

You gave him a confused look, as you followed their raised hand you were surprised to see another guard, this guard was dressed different, his clothing was black and his mask had a sqaure. “Ok?” You quickly followed as the guard let you through the stairs, as you go to a certain part, they turned around and handed you a piece of black cloth. “Put it on.” They commanded, you nodded and tied it over your eyes, your heart began to pick up.

What did they want from you? Are they going to execute you? 

Your thoughts ran wild as the guard guided you through the halls. Finally you had stopped. The sound of shoes filled your ears.

Your blood ran cold as your vision was restored, you flinched covering your eyes due to the lights. You squinted at the figure.

“Who are you?” You questioned, your eyes adjusting to the room’s light, the man’s mask was matte black, it had a sort of 3D design to it.

“I am the frontman, owner of these games.” He introduced himself, your heart stopped. 

“Why am i here?” You questioned, too busy to see the guard grabbed rope and slowly approaching you. “I see you have gotten very close with one of the players…001.” You nodded, watching his every move.

“What did you do to him?” You questioned, the frontman stepping closer to you. “Nothing, just if your safe and away from him, he’ll do better at these games.” He explained, motioning for the guard.

As you turned your head the guard grabbed your arms and began to tie them together. You let out a yell as they pinned you and tied your legs together. “No one can hear you from here.” He explained, running one of his gloved fingers over your cheek as tears fell down.

He motioned to the guard to help move you to the bed he had in an adjacent room. You cried and thrashed the best you could.

He shushed you as you cried, he sighed, knowing it wasn't helping. He grabbed a remote he had on the bedside; he waited til the guard confirmed you were sacred in the bed before pressing a button, a small hiss filled the room. You stared at him in horror as gas filled the room. 

“Goodnight.” He nodded to you before shutting the room door, feeling drowsy, you tired to look around the room for any way out but stopped as your eyes forced shut.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

Gi-hun and the others were startled awake as in-ho yelled at the guards. “What happened?” Jung-bae questioned, rubbing his eyes and began to stand up to see the commotion.

“YOU TOOK HER, I  KNOW IT SHE’S BEEN GONE FOR 5 HOURS!” In-ho yelled, pounding at the door where the hatch was closed.

Gi-hun and the others ran over to him, concerned and confused. “What’s going on?” Gi-hun asked looking at his teammate who sobbed squatting down to his knees, playing the grieving act.

“Those masked guards took y/n, she had been gone for sometime and i went to see if she was there and-!” He sobbed, earning worried looks from the group.

“Player 129 has been eliminated!” The voice rang out in the room. 

Everyone stared at each other in shock. Jun-hee covered her mouth in shock. Gi-hun sighed and squatted down to in-ho’s level and patted him on the back in comfort. “Help stop these games for her.” 

In-ho nodded and wiped the tears away. “For her..” He repeated sadly, knowing full well you were peacefully sleeping in his bed at the moment.

pt 2

[bruciemilf]

Doesn't sit well with me how people honest to God believe Bruce would deal with Dick’s (or any of the batkids’) bullies by using money and/or status.

Excuse me?? NOT Bruce “left, right, goodnight” Wayne.

“Never choose peace when victory’s an option.”

Alfred asses him with a flat look. “You’d be more intimidating without the crocs, sir.”

“Socks make my teeth itch.”

“Alright.”

Give me a Battinson who recognizes that quiet hitching sob echoing from Dick’s room, nodding to himself with teeth sunk deep in his cheek.

Imagine Dick’s surprise when his foster father, dressed in all black, a most perfect recreation of a gothic gargoyle, sits next to him In a comically small table, stone-faced and expecting.

“You’re gonna want to twist his pinkie backwards. Apply mild pressure on the bone.”

He instructs, after one of the boys in class tried to cut one of Dick’s curls. His baby has very good form.

This is AFTER Bruce shoves a paper in some kid’s mouth for throwing it at Dick, which has some very nasty words written on it.

[postmortemnivis]

you don't remember when your neighbour mr riley became simon, but it was probably somewhere between the doors he held open for you when you first moved into the building and the hushed kisses in the elevator.

you were so shy at first, simon knew he tended to have that effect on people, intimidate them with just a glare of his cold, stone set eyes, but when you finally found the buried kindness in them, he became less scary. his tattoos weren't threatening anymore, and you could make out soft shapes in the blurred ink. some birthdates, dog tags with the names of his fallen friends, a cherub and lilies started standing out from the bellic flames, skulls, guns and helmets, giving you an insight of his softer side.

the way he was scared to touch you at first, worried the years of war had made his hands too rough to handle you without breaking you. you'd always reassure him he was doing good, he could touch you if he wanted to, but he asked for permission every time he was about to lift you up in his arms, without fail.

the first time you'd seen him—dressed up in his uniform, tired and jet lagged, some eyeblack smeared down his cheek—you’d sprinted to your door on the other side of the hallway, too scared to look back, and double checked your locked door before settling into a restless sleep.

simon knew he wasn’t the usual great-looking, charming, easygoing man but to let you in, to reassure you he was approachable for you? he would’ve done anything.

he became simon the first night you’d officially invited him over too your flat, without the excuse of a (perfectly functioning) leaky sink, a doorknob that needed some oiling or a hole in the wall that needed covering. it took you time, you ignored all the previous times he’d reassured you that you could call him by his name—he wasn't that much older than you anyway—you still felt compelled to call him mr riley, yes sir, thank you sir, would you like some water mr riley?

the first time he sat down on your couch to watch a movie he felt as if the room started spinning, his eyes glued to the tv screen as your perfume hung heavy in the air.

“what’s the name again?” he spoke to break the unbearable silence, fingers twitching on his thigh.

“blue velvet- you’ve really never seen it?”

he had. “never even heard of it.”

he cursed himself as the night ended and he got up, walking to the door, already having said his goodnights.

you followed him to the door, hesitant.

“night simon.” you chirped up as he walked out of your apartment.

he stood there for a second, looking down at your expectant expression, lips parted as if you were about to speak again.

before he could gather up the courage to part with a kiss on the cheek or a hug, you’d stretched up to your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his.

“night love-” he finally said, breathless.

“you free tomorrow for brunch?” you asked as you leaned against the doorframe, still close to him. “i’m making cinnamon rolls and frittata. do you like frittata?”

“i- uhm,” simon almost had to shake his head to regain his focus. stay frosty soldier, for fucks sake. “can’t say i’ve ever tried it.”

“what- never had frittata?” your eyes widened like cherry pies. “oh, you have to try mine-!”

“eleven?” he suddenly interrupted you. “if… that’s alright with you.”

you nodded. “eleven sounds nice.”

he grabbed the back of your neck and brought you close, kissing the top of your head. “goodnight.”

you watched as he immediately left, cheeks, ears and neck a livid shade of embarrassment. he quickly unlocked his door and shut it a tad too harshly, but his heart was beating like a schoooboy’s and he couldn’t help but replay in his head the way you softly said his name all night.

you knew too that simon was about to become so much more.

[pseudowho]

Fire and Iron

Forced to stay the night with Nanami Kento, the town's blacksmith, after tending to his wounds, you find yourself smouldering in his irresistible flame.

Warnings: 18+, fluff and smut, loss of virginity

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Your boots cracked through the ice-topped slurry puddles scattering the mud path in the village. The shawl bundled over your shoulders was not enough, and the biting cold wind whipped your cloak back, stripping its usefulness off your shivering shoulders.

Townsfolk waved to you, nodding, smiling; greetings for a familiar face, many of them grateful for your travels to their icy town over the years, lacking even a basic healer of their own, let alone one so talented.

Passing by the blacksmith's hut on your way, you paused out the front, feeling the heat bellowing forth like dragon's breath. You tipped your head back, the smell of ash and steel filling your nose. As you paused, moments after, so did the clang of hammer on anvil.

You opened your eyes, stinging in the brutal cold and smoke. You, once more, like a hundred times before, had caught the eye of the blacksmith. He, whose name you did not know. He, who looked but never touched. He, to whom you had passed so many thousands of hours of your life, and his life to you, through gaze alone.

Stood proud at the anvil, shadowing the forge like the door to hell behind him, his broad shoulders wore only an open-chested white linen shirt, and a thick brown leather apron. With his ashy blond hair, and the lines of his face filled with soot, he was ageless and unknowable. He looked to you, his sharp face quiet and impassive; expression always somewhere between fury and tranquility.

Your lips parted once, as if to speak, and it jumped the blacksmith to life. With a barely perceptible nod, and a grunt, he swung his hammer back, brought down in beautiful accuracy, shaping smouldering steel. The clang rung through you, your chest jolting with a short gasp, and you collected yourself, stepping onwards. You were sure you could feel his cool gaze through the back of your head.

Another patient; another healed. Another grateful family; another life prolonged. The days were short now, and as you stepped out of the house of rough-hewn wood and stone, the forest pines were bathed in dying light, netting the low winter sun above the horizon. It was a punishing journey home, on foot, and the horses were long since put to bed.

The blacksmith's hut held its own sunset, the forge open but unattended. You heard stamps, heavy feet and cursing. You paused in the burst of warmth, illuminated, listening. Curiosity carried your feet into the hut, the heavy wet hem of your skirts collecting ashes, absorbing the blacksmith's domain.

"Are you...are you alright?" You called, uncertain, "Sir?" The footsteps, the swearing, had stopped. You stepped further in, feeling the forge belch at you, almost excruciatingly hot now.

"Get away from there!" The bark, deep and commanding, made you squeak and stumble. Darting through the side door, the blacksmith looped one thick arm round your waist before you fell towards the forge, effortlessly lifting you round, his back to the furnace, his face in shadow.

He was close; close enough that you could smell the soft sweat, the tang of fire and metal. He hissed as your hands dropped to his forearm, and you felt a cold dripping cloth draped over it.

"Do you often wander into places uninvited?" He snipped at you. You recognised the cadence in his low voice-- pain.

"I-- ...you're hurt," you insisted, voice barely above a whisper. Looking up, your eyes tried to gauge his unreadable face in the gloom. You felt him huff, warm air across your cheeks. His arm loosened, releasing you. As he stepped back, turning away to close the forge, you saw the blacksmith's mountainous shoulders tense, twitching.

"It's nothing," he retaliated, brisk. You stepped forwards again, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. At first, he flinched, then begrudgingly allowed you to turn him, and lift the damp rag covering his forearm. A thick welting burn, running the length of his forearm, lay weeping and angry on his skin, already nicked with so many little scars. You heard his teeth grit as the air hit his wound.

"Nothing," you scoffed, "this needs dressing. Let me help you." You felt him flinch beneath your hands, hesitant. He felt his skin prickle under yours, finding such curious pleasure in your touch alongside his pain. Your beseeching eyes took him the rest of the way, and he found himself accepting you.

"I...not here," the blacksmith toned, his eyes flitting to the town around him, "if they believe me injured, I'll lose business." You nodded, rummaging in your overburdened satchel, until he took you gently by the hand.

"My home," he began, hesitant, your hand so soft and small in his broad calloused palm, "you'll...you are welcome. It is clean. Quiet. I...I will not harm you. I promise."

Aware of his size and strength, aware of the air of mystery surrounding him amongst the townsfolk, the blacksmith was quick to reassure you. Your eyes softened, and his thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles at your words, electricity crackling up your arm.

"I know you won't," you assured. The briefest smile graced his severe face when you offered your name. You felt it warm you from the belly downwards. As he pulled encouragingly on your fingers, leaving the forge to die naturally with the approaching nightfall, you were led through the back of the hut, seeing a newly revealed sprawling cabin of wood and stone, at the edge of the forest. You felt the first kiss of snow upon your cheek.

"Nanami Kento," the blacksmith replied, welcoming you over the threshold. You smiled up at him, taking in his home; barely lit, at first, until he struck a lantern to life. You placed your bag upon a table, rummaging for salves as Kento began to build the fire, skilled and efficient.

You basked in the homely room; autumnal tapestries lining the walls, skin rugs on the floor and furs on the chairs, hanging herbs above a countertop, circled with hung skillets and pans. You relaxed easily into the sincerity of Kento's welcome. A frigid wind slapped the windows, rattling the door.

Before long, an enormous cast iron pot boiled with water, and you knelt before Kento, appraising his wound in the orange glow. Cleaning your hands, wetting a rag with clean water, you moved to clean the ash from his arm before pausing.

"This will hurt," you apologised, looking up to him. Kento's heart stuttered; how many hours had he spent, imagining those sweet eyes, those gentle fingers? Too long. Too many words unspoken over too many years. He was not used to such tenderness.

"I am used to pain," he hushed, smooth and barely audible above the crackle of flame, "my job has certain...hazards, after all." You hummed, swiping the cloth gently, removing dirt and debris.

"Still," you hummed, "I don't like to hurt a friend." Kento chuckled, and you felt yourself blush from hairline to toes at the rich mirth of it.

"We are...friends, are we?" His voice was low and conspiratorial, and you felt it stir a hunger deep within you. You smiled back, mulish as you dabbed salve onto his burn. His knees were parted, with you knelt between them, and your elbows rested on the thick muscle of his thighs. You felt safe, warm, held.

"All those years, passing back and forth," you sighed, teasing, "and not one hello? Just lots of nods," your stomach swooped as Kento laughed again, "and our friendship is just that. An accumulation of nods."

"Would we have stopped at 'hello'?" Kento retaliated. He caught the brief pause in your bandaging, before you continued. You spoke, uncertain again.

"Well," you hummed, testing the water, "offer me one now...and we shall see where it goes." Looking up, you gasped to find your face just inches from Kento's. He smiled at you, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips and back up again.

"Hello," he whispered, quiet and mischievous, "and thank you."

Your breath fluttered out; Kento could feel it against his lips, beckoning him.

"I...it's getting late," you started, and Kento blinked out of his reverie, glancing to the inky black outside his windows, "I should go."

Kento grasped your fingers once more, rising with you as he stood, your shawl shushing against his chest, barely covered by his soft linen shirt. Kento hummed, sounding grave, stepping to the other side of the room.

"It is night," he said, hands cupped around his eyes as he squinted out of the windows, "and the woods are barely safe in the day. I...I cannot allow you to travel. Alone, in the snow. You must stay."

His tone broached no argument, yet still you tried, packing your bag, your cheeks aflame.

"I...it isn't..." you stuttered, and Kento turned to you, chin inclined to the floor, one fine eyebrow raised. You took a deep breath, certain that if you didn't leave now, you may fall too deeply into Kento's insistent heat. Yet...you knew he was right. The path was treacherous. The snow would take you before the dawn.

"Would you like a bath?" Kento offered, turned away to save you your blushes; a gentleman.

"I-- please don't go to any trouble--" Kento swiftly ignored you, beginning to grasp the enormous iron pot, lifting it with stunning ease. His voice didn't even hitch.

"It's no trouble. I bathe every night. You can go before me." Kento carried the pan, stepping behind a folding wooden screen, and you followed him as if to argue, watching him begin to fill an enormous copper bathtub. Your hands shook as you began to remove your shawl, still blushing, so briefly overwhelmed before squashing it down.

Kento glanced up at you, pausing as he poured hot water, "This will take me some time," he said, apologetic, "please make yourself comfortable. I'll call for you."

You nodded, clearing your throat, hands twisting in your removed shawl. Kento chastised himself for admiring the soft curve of your breasts into your waist, the hidden delight of the swelling of your hips beneath your heavy skirts. He did not see how the steam rose fast, dampening his white shirt, how you could see all the way to his navel as he leaned over the bath. Neither of you knew how the other stirred within.

As you walked the length of the room, your fingertips brushing tapestries and grazing over warm furs, your curiosity drew you to a wide, flat trinket box, inlaid with mother of pearl, the colours an aurora in the rolling firelight. You stroked the box just once, before lifting the lid.

Your eyes crinkled immediately with joy at the treasures within; the box was full of lovingly crafted necklaces of gold, silver, pearl and gem, the chains finer and softer than any you had ever seen. You did not feel Kento approach as you admired them.

"I'd like for you to choose one," he offered, sincere, as you spun to face him. He raised his hands placatingly, a smile at the edge of his mouth, "not in lieu of payment, of course. A gift, I...made them with no real aim as to who should receive them."

"You made these?" You gaped, unable to fathom how such enormous hands crafted such intricate delights, "Kento, I-- they're beautiful, I couldn't possibly..."

If Kento had held any reservation, after hearing his name tumble from your lips, he was filled with the burning certainty that the jewellery should be for you, and you alone. His hand closed over yours as you moved to shut the box.

"Please," he breathed, so close, "choose one, or I shall give you them all." Swallowing, your hand hovered over a fine chain of silver and emerald, your fingertips brushing the gem. Kento hummed his approval, before picking it up, his calloused fingers all softness and grace.

"My favourite, too," he rumbled, brushing your hair off the nape of your neck as he clipped the necklace into place. You shivered at the feeling of his fingers on your neck, and almost ran as he whispered beside your ear, "Your bath is ready."

Stripping behind the wooden screen, hearing Kento amble around the room beyond, you sighed as the hot water enveloped you. Washing yourself with a soft sponge, cleaning off the grime of the day, your hand wandered absentmindedly downwards, fingertips grazing through your folds, naturally moving to relieve yourself of the building tension--

"I've left you a shirt." Your hand darted upwards with a guilty splash, Kento's voice only meters away behind the screen.

"Thank-- thank you," you squeaked, blushing, before climbing out, so naked apart from your exquisite new necklace. Drying on a soft towel, your hand hesitated over the shirt draped over the screen, before pulling it on over damp skin. It reached down your thighs, but left little else to the imagination.

Kento remained outwardly stoic, unreadable, averting his gaze as you crept out, arms holding yourself and squashing your breasts together, the colour of your nipples as faint as a ghost under the white linen shirt. He cleared his throat, coughing lightly before skirting past to the bath. You felt heat creep up your neck at the gossamer hush of his clothes hitting the floor, the shifting water as he stepped in, the way he sighed in relief, almost as if--

"I shall sleep in the chair tonight," Kento said, slow and considered, "and you shall have my bed." You felt indignation roll within you.

"Don't be ridiculous," you scolded, "you're injured, and this is your home--"

'-- and you are my guest," he grumbled.

"I won't allow it," you insisted, almost forgetting yourself as you approached the wooden screen, "I'll put some furs on the floor and--"

"You believe I would let you sleep on the floor?" He growled, furious at your suggestion, "I should rather you have me share the bed with you over that--"

"Fine. Then we shall share the bed. And there will be no more argument." You clapped a hand over your mouth as the words tumbled forth, unbidden. Mortified by your own suggestion, you removed your hand to speak again.

Kento stepped round from behind the screen, his towel draped lazily round his waist. You gaped up at him, stunned. He was...younger than you thought, his blond hair now soft and floppy, the ash removed from the lines in his face, taking ten years off him. You faced him, his towering form, the practiced rolls, peaks and planes of muscle belonging to a working man, his forearms so thick--

"Then...we should get to bed," Kento insisted, stepping past you, through a doorway to his bedroom, where you heard him rummaging for clothes, "it is late and I am up with the lark."

You hesitated where you stood, feeling your heartbeat between your legs, desperately curious, but paralysed.

"I don't bite," Kento called out, and you gulped down the sounds of soft fabric dropping over his body, still crippled with indecision and embracing yourself as he stepped out to put out the fire. You were lost momentarily in darkness before he stepped to you, the lantern between you, a beacon in the dark. You felt his hand close around your fingers again. You heard him whisper.

"It will become cold quickly, now the fire has died. Come. Stay warm."

You allowed yourself to be led to Kento's bedroom, hypnotised by the small swinging lantern. Kento led your hand downwards, placing it to the edge of the bed for you to feel your way, your fingers gliding through soft fur and cool sheets. With shaking hands, you crawled across to the head of the bed. Kento waited for you, flipping down the sheets, flipping them back up to your chin as you both slipped between them.

You heard nil but your own heartbeat. Kento faced you, the torch light embering behind him leaving him only just visible as your eyes adjusted to the light. The sheets had not yet warmed from your bodies, and you shivered. You felt Kento shift beside you.

"You...are cold," he stated as if in question. You remained quiet, gripping your hands to your chest lest they reach out for him.

"I'm...I'll warm up. Soon," you reassured yourself as much as him. You heard one doubtful grunt from him. Five minutes passed, and still, Kento felt you shiver against the sheets. Pulling a fur up to your chins, he felt prickles up his legs as one of your feet reached hesitantly out to touch him. He felt rather than heard you sigh.

"So warm," you whispered, your little voice soft with comfort in the dark. Kento's breath caught in his chest, feeling his cock twitch inside his soft trousers.

"Do you...need me?" He offered. He felt your other foot reach out in answer, cold toes wiggling against the downy hair on his leg. He felt a dangerous, needy arousal thread through him.

Reaching out his uninjured arm, he hooked it round your waist, chuckling as you squeaked when he pressed against you. You hummed in pleasure at the heat rolling off him, basking in his warmth, forgetting your awkwardness for a moment. Kento and you lay intertwined like that, with you softening like butter in his arms.

After a few minutes, you shifted against him, about to drift off to sleep. Kento must have been near sleep as well, groaning into your hair as you shifted, reflexively clinging you closer to him. Your bottom, completely bare with his shirt shifted up your body, pressed back to his groin. His clothed cock was hard and barely restrained in his loose trousers, and pressed between your thighs.

You felt a jolt run through you, feeling a warm trickle of arousal, so alien to you, seep out between your thighs. Kento almost saw stars as it dampened the trousers over his cockhead, and he frowned, his forehead pressed to your shoulder blade in apology and embarrassment.

"I-- I'm sorry, I--...it's been so long...since I've felt a woman-- shit, I'm--" Kento rested his nose against your neck, unable to stop himself from ghosting his lips there. You dropped your head back to him, and he growled in appreciation, nuzzling your neck, feeling your thighs clamp around the tip of his cock, your arousal seeping through his trousers and mixing with his own.

"I've never--" you whispered, blushing furiously, drunk on the feeling of his body against yours, feeling so curiously empty and aching to be filled. Kento understood immediately, and moved to pull back.

"No!" You squeaked, holding onto his arm, pushing yourself back to chase him along the bed, "Please, I-- I want--...you. I want you." Your words sat heavy in the air. Kento shifted behind you, at war with himself.

"You don't know what you're asking," he growled, fighting against you to remove his arm, "I am no boy."

"And I'm no girl, nor stupid," you reassured, "I'm not ignorant."

In an instant, Kento moved above you, on all fours, his arms caging you in, corseting you to his bed. He stared down at you, enormous chest heaving, eyes roving down your body, quickly intoxicated by your peaked nipples, beneath his shirt, the hem of it barely covering your sex, still feeling your arousal dampening his cock.

He leaned down, nestling his mouth against your neck again, tongue flicking out, tasting you. He felt you still under his lips, just a little mouse, in the jaws of a bear.

"And yet, all that knowledge is just academic, until you're crying out that my cock is too big for you," he growled, warning you away, barely able to stop himself. He felt you squirm beneath him, his head swimming with you. He was lost, then, to your tiny whisper in the gloom.

"Show me-- please." Kento shuddered, a drop of pre-cum seeping out of his cock, soaking through his trousers and your-- his-- shirt, to dampen your belly. You shivered, desperate to know Kento biblically, desperate for this fabled ecstasy.

Kento raised his mouth from your neck, reading your eyes, seeing such certainty in them. Tangling his fingers with yours beneath the sheets, he pressed the length of his body down against you as he kissed you, his other hand framing your jaw, gently encouraging it open to slide his tongue against yours. Your soft little moan was like music to his ears.

Kissing you deeply, learning your voice and your mouth, letting you learn the peaks and planes of his body with your free hand, Kento kept your other hand plaited with his own, fearful of leaving you to take this journey alone.

He felt himself shudder with the unbridled privilege of being able to worship you, jealously grateful that you had not been left to some boy. He was overwhelmed by the need to set your standards high at the first hurdle.

"Let me taste you," he murmured into your mouth, and you hesitated, unsure of what he meant. Swiping his thumb across your palm, Kento's mouth ventured downwards, sucking the skin of your neck, nipping before soothing the skin with his tongue, feeling you become pliable, supple as water. His fingers danced over the laces holding your shirt together, giving you opportunity to stop him, before untying them, freeing your breasts.

Laying his tongue flat over one nipple, Kento allowed it to curve to the shape of you, to know you, before drawing it into his mouth, sucking on your nipple while his hand toyed with and kneaded the other. He revelled in your whines, a high, keening mewl as you arched off the bed into his mouth. You felt his licks and sucks, curiously, between your legs, and you could not help but buck up against him.

Kento grunted at the feeling of your pussy pressing against his thigh, and moved one hand down to hold your hips still.

"Slow down-- let me show you," he ordered, gentle in his insistence. You trembled under his fingertips, your hips settling back to the bed. He rumbled his approval, rolling your nipple under his tongue again until you sighed, breathy and ecstatic, "Good girl."

In reward, his mouth continued to trail downwards, and your eyes fluttered closed, one hand coming to rest on the back of his head, your fingernails scratching through his damp hair. Kento shivered at the sensation, feeling his cock leap against his thigh.

When his mouth reached your mound, you squeaked out in alarm, flipping the blankets down to see Kento, illuminated in the orange light.

"What are you-- your mouth, Kento--" Kento's eyes crinkled up at you, and two arms came to loop round the top of your thighs, pulling you down the bed towards him, your shirt being rucked up against the drag of the mattress to completely expose your glistening pussy to him.

Maintaining eye contact with you, you trembled with anticipation as Kento poked his tongue out into a point, first grazing your folds, before stroking from side to side to ease in between them. The sound that broke out from you as his tongue stroked over your clit, hot and wet, was one Kento masturbated to for years to come.

You felt as though you had been lifted from earth and dropped amongst the clouds as he licked at you, sucking, stroking, tasting, the pleasure so otherworldly compared to what your own hand could achieve, that you felt yourself being rushed towards your peak at speed.

Twisting and squirming against his mouth, you reflexively tried to pull your pussy away from Kento's attentions. His arms tightened around the tops of your thighs, growling into you, pulling you back as you tried to scoot away. Your hand tugged at his hair as you arched, whimpering, coated in a fine sweat. As Kento groaned into your cunt, you watched his hips roll and hump against the bed, the sight alone enough to send your orgasm crashing through you, and you worshipped his name in a long, keening cry.

Kento let his laps and sucks become softer, languid, letting you float through the haze of your pleasure. Nuzzling at you, tasting you as you trailed lazy blissful fingers through his hair, Kento planted soft kisses to your inner thigh.

Moving back up, stroking his nose against your neck, Kento felt your hand move down his shoulders and back, before coming round to ghost over the front of his trousers. Kento shuddered, kneeling above you to remove his shirt, skin prickling with the need to feel yours against his own.

Gazing down at you, his eyes like whiskey in the flickering light, he grazed a palm from in between your breasts, down to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head in one swift tug, exposing you completely to him.

Your hand still trailed over his groin as he knelt, and you were captivated, obsessed with the shape, weight and length of his cock in your hands, blissfully unaware of what you were doing to him. As you grasped the lace at the front of his trousers, undoing it, and squeezing the head of his cock between your fingers, Kento moaned, ragged, leaning one hand sideways to support himself.

"Fuck-- I haven't-- not for so long," he moaned, low and husky, feeling your inexperienced fingers explore his cock and balls in a way that felt almost abusively naive. As your thumb glided beneath his foreskin, collecting the wetness of his pre-cum, exploring his slit, Kento hissed, panting and grabbing your hand.

You broke out of your reverie, blushing with mortification, tears pricking in your eyes as you began to apologise. Kento interrupted, shushing you, one hand still gripping your fingers around his cock, the other coming up to cup your face, his thumb swiping across your cheek.

"Not you," he huffed, stroking your cheek, smiling down at you with fevered eyes, "me, it's-- I-- I'll cum in your hand if you carry on." Your eyes glimmered, hungry to see how he looked as you pleasured him, and you moved yourself, leaning close, squeezing him again beneath his own hand, and he cried out in pleasure. You felt another drip of his arousal across your fingers, and you gulped, your tongue darting out across your lips.

As you lowered yourself to his lap, Kento's eyebrows raised in shock, and desperate awe, as you licked the weeping cockhead sticking out from your joined enclosed hands.

A low rumble ebbed through Kento, his eyes suddenly dark and hungry as he looked down at you, wordlessly using your hand inside his own, to pump the length of his cock. Feeling the intoxicating glide of soft skin over woody hardness, you let him use your hand to masturbate himself as you took the head of his cock into your mouth, licking, tasting the musty pre-cum there.

Every instinct screamed at Kento to chase his orgasm, to press your head further down his cock so he could use your little hand to jack off into your mouth, and he felt overwhelmed by the innocent licks and sucks you gave him, eyes cast upwards to see what effect they had on him. Kento moaned desperately, twisting on his haunches, fingers in turn tangling into your hair and coming away, clenching and unclenching at speed.

He felt the approaching rush of divine ecstasy, thrumming up his back in waves, his balls tightening up against the base of his cock--

Snapping, Kento pulled your hand and mouth off him, heaving you up the bed and back onto the pillows, before pinning you down with his body, panting into your neck, trying not to spill his seed over your belly. You were thrilled, ecstatic with Kento's pleasure, eager to see more of it.

You crept your hips up to his, trying to ease his cock into you. Kento huffed, his hand shooting down to press your hips down again.

"--going to kill me-- I swear-- no idea...you have no idea what you're doing to me--" Kento panted, quaking above you, one forearm planted above your head. As his peak ebbed away, Kento plaited his hand with your own again, above your head. He felt his cockhead resting against the smooth resistance of your entrance, and he suddenly felt so responsible for you.

"I don't want to hurt you," he huffed, aware he was bigger than average, but knowing from the fevered look in your eyes that he could not dissuade you-- not that he wanted to, at this point, his cock throbbing with urgent need.

"Please," you begged, "please." You felt Kento's hips press forwards into your soaking wet heat, feeling a slight sting as it met resistance. Kento rested his nose to yours, his eyes still feverish, his body still smelling of iron and ash and smoke.

"On one condition," he pressed, authoritative as his cockhead pressed deeper against your stinging resistance, breaking past thin membrane, gripping your thigh up to his hip as you trembled, biting your lip, tears in your eyes as you nodded-- anything, you thought, anything.

"Marry me," he whispered against your lips, and you squeaked as you felt a twang of pain, his cock suddenly nestled deeply inside you. Kento rocked his hips gently, shushing you, soothing you, his thumb stroking your palm. Not moving, just holding you as you adjusted to feeling so full, Kento waited for an answer.

"Y--yes...yes," you mewled, and Kento growled his approval against your neck, slowly pulling out of you before rutting back into your wet, tender pussy again, so intimate and deep that you cried out for him.

Kento rolled his hips, like a boat on the waves, whispering into you, certain he wouldn't last long; "First-- I'll cum inside you-- then I'll treat you like a queen...haaah...for the rest of my days."

You clung to Kento, lost in the ecstasy of him plowing into you, delighted by his rumbling groans in your ears, blissfully proud of being able to make such an unflappable man fall apart inside you. When his grip on your hip faltered, his shaking hand dropping to stroke quick little circles around your clit, Kento growled and bit into your neck to feel you rock your hips upwards to meet his own.

The sting almost completely eased, you felt quick pangs of pleasure, rising with every beat of your fast little heart, completely carried along by the eroticism of Kento's frantic groans and mumbles into your ear.

"My love I-- you feel so good...so good...god, I need to cum, need you to cum I-- aahhhh, fuck--" Kento felt your pussy clench around him, and he came inside you as you drank down his moans, fascinated by how they matched up with the bounding twitch of his cock, how his hips juddered into you involuntarily, how his face contorted, jaw clenched, somewhere between rage and serenity.

You were famished, starved of him, immediately desperate for more, and you felt him crumple into you, caging you in, shoulders heaving and spent. Kento chuckled as you peppered him with kisses, gripping your thighs round him and rolling him over so you lay above him, straddling him as his cock softened within you.

With his chin on his chest to look down to you, and a lazy lopsided smile across his face, Kento played idly with your hair, stroking your nose, your cheeks. He proudly fingered the beautiful necklace, resting against your breasts, squashed and plush against him.

"You meant it?" He asked, eager, concerned.

You hummed in delight, pressing a tender kiss to his chest as you nodded; "You had me at 'hello'."

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Would the anon who requested Blacksmith!Kento PLEASE STAND UP so I can credit you for breaking my brain.

[keferon]

I’ve been reading through your Spellbound AU and thought of something funny, so naturally I wrote a short story for it.

My take on how Jazz came to work for Orion.

———————————————————————

Jazz slunk across ruined stonework overtaken by forest growth. Form shifting as subtly as the shadows he crossed.

Which would it be?

Tall and slim? Nah, that one already served it’s purpose. The twins saw something lank and dark looming in the trees, and now the young knights were distracted looking over their shoulders.

A hulking brute? No, that’d inspire an all out confrontation. Jazz already had all of them keyed up to act on instinct.

The twins were easy. Young and expecting a straight fight. Pax, his target, was harder to ruffle. He had the reputation of a courageous selfless hero and damned if the mech wasn’t dedicated to the ruse.

Pax wasn’t spooked, but he did take his underlings concerns seriously. He marched forward as a pillar of confidence and safety, but Jazz caught the way his gaze scanned the ruins. His white shadow seemed indifferent, but he was just an audience member anyways, not a real fighter.

Primed to play the part. Pax just needed his queue.

Jazz got into place on his stage. He shifted into something small and weak (in appearance alone). Bent a leg at an unhealthy looking angle, and slumped like he was exhausted and chased here.

Jazz sat with his back against the wall, the partially collapsed stone room was small enough that a mech of Orion’s stature would have difficulty moving quickly. It had the nice bonus of blocking anyone else from coming through the main entry point as well.

Through a crack in the wall, Jazz watched as the leader in blue and red got closer, his “loyal knights” lagging behind. The white one lagged as well, distracted by scolding the twins for being distracted.

Jazz focused on his target. Pulled at a thread from within Pax and strung it within his own chest.

Jazz set his new voice and with all the terror and innocence he could conjure screamed.

H̴͉̮́͂͗̐͌̍̇E̸̡̞̅̎̒͗͂L̷̛̻͎̮̽̏͝͝P̴̛̭͈͌̔̃̊͛̓ ̶͉̩̖̔͛͋̃ͅP̴̫͔̖͔̼͗̑̔͘͝L̸͓̣͖̫̭͎̊́̑̀͐̈́Ḙ̶͕̪̳̟̥͂̓̈̅͂͝Á̵̖̳̱͙͋ ̸̭̤̹̔͑͒̈͆̓͘Ȏ̵̡̥͈̪̟͛́̑͆̐͜Ḣ̷̡̻̪̘̯̹̊̂́̒͠ ̷̭̭͕̙̟̬͈̇̄̌̅̂̚̕W̸̺̯̦͔̼͇̄H̷͖͛̎͐̄͊̂͝À̶̘̙̈́̎͛̒͘ͅṰ̴̻͉̜͂̐̽̀̇ ̴̬͓̝̞̀̆̕T̸̙̖̲̺̯̆͛͜Ḥ̵̱͚͕͔̆̉ͅȆ̶͙̆́́̌̋ ̵̧͔͔̰̰̰͕̿͂̆̂̅̅F̵͕̘̰͓̓̔͜͜U̵̧̝̳̔̍̇̅̿͜͜͝Ç̵͎̎̓̒̓̊̂K̷̨̈́?̶̱͈̖̺̘͓͆̄͒͋

He slapped a hand over his mouth.

Outside, everyone went deathly quiet. Jazz didn’t dare move.

“Um.” Spoke their fearless leader.

Who apparently had thing for asthmatic dragons.

“Are you alright in there?”

Movement started to approach his hidey hole. Jazz could still salvage this. He could.

The white shadow came through first. Damn it. New plan: save own life.

Jazz plucked a new voice from him and made himself look as unthreatening as possible.

“ - ?! !”

Nothing. He loves the concept of nothing. Not even a celebrity crush? A favorite singer? The sound of his own voice?

Some of the functionalists were like that. That’s probably half the reason they “allowed” him to take on their commissions. All the money in their coffers wasn’t worth this however.

The white mech frowned, scanning over Jazz with a cold blue look. He turned back to the entrance, “Sir, there is a ‘hypothetically’ injured person inside the building. Most likely they orchestrated our current circumstances in an attempt to assassinate you.”

Jazz lunged from the wall, dagger slipping between armor gaps to pierce the spoil-sports spark, ready to dash past in the resulting chaos when his lifeless body guttered before them.

And just like his voice, Jazz got nothing instead.

He gaped at the way his blade cut into hollow air beneath the plates. Numbly, he pulled out his dagger and stabbed again, like it’d do something different this time. The mech was unamused.

“Sir, the assassin is trying to assassinate me.”

Jazz pulled a working voice, “I̷͕͍̓̒͝ͅ’̵̝̂m̵̼̲̓́ ̷͚̑́͗͜n̶̢̬͈̉o̷̦̓̎͝ṱ̶̟̼͒͊ ̵̨̮̠̿̀ǎ̷̫̹n̶̫̜̚̕ ̸̹͙͐a̵̛̯̻̹s̶͍̈́s̵̳̲͎͂a̷̻͉̅͆̑s̴̛̫̞̽̈s̵̳̑į̸̝̽̊n̷̙̟̤͊!̸̪̃”. And discontinued his failing assassin attempt to cringe.

A massive hand closed around Jazz’s wrist, stopping him cold.

“Do not.” Orion lessened his grip but did not release him, “Harm my friends.”

Jazz had to crane his head back considerably to make eye contact. Orion was built like a brick house and Jazz had enough experience fighting mechs like him to know his kill window was gone.

Groveling it is!

“Į̷̧̲̍͝ ̴̟̩̗̀̿̊a̵̹͙̔m̵̠̜̳͍̀̽̾̏ ̷͕͕̔̿͆̂s̸̡͋ơ̵̦̜ ̶͍̫͔͔̒̈̈́̌s̶̻͓͔̆͜ò̸͙̥̻̀r̷̢̠̈r̵̘͑̎͂y̸̰͓͆͗̔.̵̯͇́̌͒ ̵̳̞̏̇̕I̶̦͚̦͠’̸̞̯͙̟́ḿ̵̢̜̅̍͜ͅ ̴̮̩͓̀̓̈͜j̷̻̒̀u̷̯͂͋ŝ̴̭͇̱͎͑͆ẗ̶͎̬͗́͝ ̷̥̰̗̃a̸̼̫̦̾̚ ̶͕͉̓͌͋͝d̴͖̗̰̒̎̈͘ͅe̸̗̞̤̲̽͗̈́͛s̸̖͐p̵̢̎͊e̴̢͖͉͑̿̾͘r̶̩̬̰̈́́ą̵̧̰̋̊͝t̶̻̯̞̦̆e̷̱̥̪̍͜ ̴̠̱̼̣̌̾t̴̙̐̔h̵̟̪͈͛̚ǐ̶͕ě̴̻̺f̸͕̠̯̤̀̆!̷̗̩̩̃̽ ̷̮̩̆̾Ǐ̷͍̭ ̴͕͕́ṅ̸̗̰e̸̯̱̝͚͆͂v̴̛͓͉͇̍́e̴̺̞͖͂͑̏͐͜r̶̢̼͠ ̴̗͙̐͒̋̚m̸͓͆͐e̶̱̩͕̐̚͠a̵͉͇̟̺̋̇̑n̶̢̖̙̣̾͝t̷̘̔ ̵̦̉̈́̈́͗t̵̳̻͇̔̎̃͜o̴͈͖̓ ̵̬̦̞͖͌͋͂͆h̷̲̓͑̎̃a̵̛͇̾͗r̵̠̗̩̾̏̈̚m̸̭̃ ̷̢̗͇͈͑͊a̵̧̠͑̒̚ ̵̢͉̮̌̀k̵̼͈͎̳͒̀̐͂ǹ̸̛̘͈͔í̶͓̜̜͉g̸̨̖̗̜̽͊ĥ̷͉̫͉̻̾̽̉t̵̜̣̲̹̑ ̸̡͒̃o̶̮͉̺͝r̷̬̎̓̚͝ ̵̡̠̩̓̈́̐̏ḣ̶̨͖̼̥̎́i̶̖̋͝s̷̻͍̭̒͜ ̵̢̖͓̿̍̌̾f̶̣̜̒̎r̶̝̈͊̍̋ǐ̶̝͓̱̱̆̐ẹ̷́̅n̴̢̛̘̍ḑ̷̪̈́̀͒̚ŝ̷͍̹!̷̪͙͕̬̐ ̵̨̡͆̏P̸̧̢̼̿͝l̶̡̧͔̳̍̉͋̆ẽ̶͉ȁ̸̦̜̤̀̉ͅs̴̮̙͍̘̐̂̉e̴͇͚͊̔̈́͋ ̸̧̳͒̈̃͠h̸̡̧̰͛̈͐ͅḁ̷͔̗̱̓̌̉v̸͖̼͓̜̽̏ę̵̬̤͎̄̅̓͆ ̷͍̯̗̥̋̀͛̉m̸̹͈͔̑͂͠ͅé̴͎͕ȑ̴̢̖̘̎c̴͙͇͙̤̐̔͒̕y̷̨͈͗͛͛!̶̹͝͝”

Orion cringed behind the mask.

“I- I’m sorry I don’t think I quite understood that.” He paused, “Would…you like a cough drop?”

Orion seemed to take stock of what he had on him, patting his sides with his free hand. He turned to the white mech.

“Prowl, would you happen to…um nevermind.” He turned to the twins, “Sunstreaker?Sideswipe? Do either of you have a cough drop?”

The twins searched their pockets for a magically appearing cough drop. Jazz searched for his sanity.

Jazz plucked a voice from the twins and couldn’t care less which it came from.

“Listen!” Oh thank fuck the twins were normal.

Jazz smiled while slowly uncurling Orions fingers from his wrist. Prowl narrowed his gaze at the new voice.

“You got me! I’m a thief! And I panicked! And I am so, so, so-.”

“A mimic.”

Smile frozen in place, Jazz turned his head so slowly there was an audible grounding noise.

Prowl remained impassive.

“Um.” And Orion…let him? Pull his wrist free. “Are you going to continue trying to kill me?”

Jazz snapped back to Orion, his target. The words aren’t what gave him pause, but how he said them. Like he just asked Jazz “Are you sure you want to go with puce green?” As if the mech was more concerned that Jazz was going to make a poor decision than for his own wellbeing.

“No.” Jazz said definitively. Because Primus knows he lost the upper hand now and wasn’t aiming to try again so soon.

“Are you genuinely in need of money? Food and shelter?” Orion continued, optics softening.

Jazz didn’t recognize the play. He bit his lip beneath the cowl.

Jazz decided to capitalize on whatever got him the most sympathy. He nodded seriously. “Yes. Of course. It’s not easy when the functionalists decide you’re a monster.” A bit of a lie and a bit of the truth. His favorite combination.

“Do you like your current employers?” Orion asked and Prowl started to narrow his optics.

“No…I don’t.” Jazz answered without enough dishonesty to feel comfortable.

Orion kneeled so he was on optic level with him. “Would you like to join my order?”

And when Jazz just stared at him he continued. “You’d be free to leave if you ever found it not to your liking. And your skills would be very useful in keeping people safe. And of course we’d ensure safe lodgings, fair pay and-.”

“Sir.” Prowl ground out with the most emotion Jazz had ever seen from the guy. “He tried. To assassinate you.”

“Well, he wasn’t very invested.” He shrugged.

Orion looked at Prowl. The twins looked at each other. Jazz looked at an opportunity.

“Deal.” Jazz took Orions hand, shaking it before his better thinking caught up to him.

Orion’s optics crinkled in delight. “Wonderful! Welcome to the Autobot Order!”

Prowls face betrayed nothing, but Jazz hadn’t spent his entire life studying people to miss the way something ever so subtly cracked under Prowls stoney facade.

Jazz didn’t need their Order to survive. But he had become desperately curious to know what in Pimus’ sweet name was going with those two. And more importantly, after outing him twice in a row, Jazz was going to BREAK Prowl.

“T̴͓̹̚h̸͖̘̀̈͠e̸̡̗̳͊̓͝ ̴͚̘͆n̶͉̰͐͜ą̸̦̉m̸̮͙͋é̴͉̫̥͘s̴̮̔͑̄ ̶̰̚J̷͎̀͝a̸̟͎̽̒̇z̷̰̆͑͜͝z̵̨͎̈́.̴͎́ ̷̡͉̱̒̾̕N̵̳͚̈͘i̴͙̓̎c̶̪̅̆ḛ̸̂͂ ̷̰̻̊͝ͅt̷͖̤̓͋o̴̗͇̭͑̿͛ ̴̮̹̉̃͜m̴̼͈̝̍ë̸̗̫̘́̊͌ē̸̘̹̅t̷̛̞̙̫ ̵͙̎̄y̵̩͂̓̚a̴͉̲̪͌̍.̶̖̻̒”

———————————————————————

The silent sentence was “Did you hear that horrib- Huh?! OH COME ON!”

I just really liked the idea that because Jazz talks in Shockwaves voice around Orion, the first time it happened everyone nearly shit themselves.

-SSTP

"Who apparently had thing for asthmatic dragons."

LMAO

"The twins searched their pockets for a magically appearing cough drop. Jazz searched for his sanity." AHAHAJCZTYLVXFUJKCDYKFSS HELP

Jazz, looking at OP: There is something really wrong with you. Five weirdness points out of five.

Jazz, looking at Prowl: ........I need a new scale

[cookiekissers]

Ok hear me out hear me out, cutie patootie male reader x Longan dragon but like it’s in the part when Longan is making everyone rocks and reader is the exception pls pls pls

ohohoh being the exception, you have excellent taste anon. right away sir o7

Inevitability

[Longan Dragon x Male Reader]

With bright flashes of light, your friends, and your family cried out as their dough was transformed into cold grey stone. Floating orbs that looked like eyes flew about throughout the village, chasing down Cookies, and wherever they gazed all that was left behind was a new statue. You scrambled behind an overturned cart, still trying to process the whirlwind of horror and panic around you. Peeking above the wagon you see another Cookie, a mother and her baby, fleeing from one of the floating orbs, only to be swiftly cornered against a wall of a building.

Without thinking, you grab the first thing closest to you and vault over the wooden wagon, your legs sprinting toward the ivory eye. It was distracted by its current prey, giving you just enough time to surprise it. The orb turned its gaze to you, and you swung your hefty makeshift club as hard as you could, striking it like a baseball. The eye-like orb was launched a few feet, but not far enough. It quickly recovered and shook itself slightly after the impact, fixing its unfeeling glare on you next. You backed away nervously tightly gripping your pitiful weapon as it slowly pursued you. The eye followed as if it wasn't in any rush like your fate was inevitable.

You saved the mother and her child, if only for a moment. The orbs threatened to petrify everyone in the village without mercy. Were you just delaying the inevitable end?

The eye had you cornered now. But for some reason, it hadn't struck yet. It had frozen your fellow Cookies without hesitation, but with you, it seemed to be examining you for far longer.

A loud shout split the tense air, and a spiky yam mace collided violently with the side of the orb, sending it flying into the distance like it was nothing. Two Cookie warriors appeared as if from nowhere, fighting off the floating eyes with ease. One of the knights ran up to you, lifting you from the ground to set you on your feet again. He dusted you off while you stared in amazement at his, and his friend's, heroics. His dough was pale and he wielded a light blue and white milk mace and a white milk shield.

"Are you alright?" The knight asked in concern.

"Y-Yeah… But who are you? What's going on!?" You exclaim. The knight patted your shoulder to calm you, his smile was gentle and held no worry.

"I'm Milk Cookie, and that's my friend Purple Yam Cookie." Milk Cookie introduced. You glance past Milk Cookie to see Purple Yam Cookie swinging his spiked mace around wildly, chasing off the eyes with glee. Like Milk Cookie, he seemed unfazed by the situation and even appeared to be enjoying himself, if his hearty laughter was any indication.

"Don't worry, everything will be ok. I'll protect you!" Milk Cookie said cheerfully.

As quickly as they came, the eyes retreated to where ever they had come from. You emerged from your shelter with a few other Cookies and looked around at the carnage that had been left behind. In the streets dozens of Cookies stood frozen in stone. Your eyes became misty at the sight of your friends, and Cookies who had once been your neighbors, turned into statues. Stuck with expressions of fear and agony etched into their faces from their final moments.

You saw Milk Cookie and Purple Yam Cookie standing by, examining a stone statue and discussing something.

"UGH! The dragon eye orbs are getting away! Milk Cookie, let's get out of here and FOLLOW them!" Purple Yam Cookie grumbled.

"We can't leave just yet! We must stay to make sure everyone is alright." Milk Cookie replied calmly. Once you heard the knights who saved you were about to leave, you ran up to Milk Cookie and tugged his muscular arm.

"Wait, are you leaving?" You said. Purple Yam Cookie looked you over for a moment before huffing in annoyance.

"What do you want!?" He demanded.

"Please, if you're leaving, you have to take me with you!" you begged. The two cookies looked at you in surprise. Purple Yam Cookie then smirked a bit, apparently pleased with your boldness.

Milk and Purple Yam Cookie clearly knew who had done this to your village, and they would lead you right to them. You were going to find them and avenge your friends.

Though Milk Cookie tried to object to you tagging along because he was worried for your safety, Purple Yam Cookie encouraged it. Though you weren't as strong as him, you were feisty. He had seen you fight against the dragon eyes despite still being so weak, so he elected to let you come. Maybe you could learn a few things from him, and of course, he wanted to fight you once you got stronger. You pouted slightly. Sure, you were just a regular Cookie and weren't very strong, but you were determined to find a way to save your village and reverse the curse.

As you were on your way, you met some of Milk Cookie and Purple Yam Cookie's friends. They all wore armour made up of blue dragon scales and caught you up on what had been happening. That is when you found out the culprit that had attacked your village was an ancient dragon. Longan Dragon Cookie.

You've always assumed dragon stories were nothing but legends until the Ivory Dragon threatened your peaceful village. And now you were thrust into the middle of a brutal conflict and the world was on the brink of destruction. This was serious. Your stomach tied itself in knots at finding yourself in what was essentially a war. Milk Cookie had seen your anxious expression and comforted you, even offering to take you back home. But now that you knew what was going on, how could you just turn your back on the Cookies everywhere who had suffered like your village had and run back home?

You had no fighting experience and weren't a warrior like Purple Yam Cookie or Milk Cookie. Your life has been very ordinary until now. However, you were determined to do everything in your power to help defeat Longan Dragon Cookie.

Like a whirlwind carrying you away, you suddenly found yourself on the Tropical Soda Islands alongside Milk Cookie, Purple Yam Cookie, Gingerbrave, and their friends. You have never ventured this far from your village, but you were mesmerized by the beauty of Pineapple Isle. The land had transformed, merging with the surrounding islands and was thrust into the past, reviving long-extinct creatures.

The massive island that had merged was teeming with dragon eye orbs. The blue dragon scale armour you received helped conceal you from the Ivory Dragon's sight, but you still had to remain in hiding while the other dragons that had joined your side recovered from their encounter with Longan Dragon Cookie. You sat outside your hideout deep in the jungle and sighed to yourself. You were advised not to wander off alone, but you needed some time by yourself to process everything that had happened. Taking a little walk through the forest ended up being a mistake.

As you were walking, lost in deep thought, you were suddenly snapped to reality by the sound of the underbrush shaking. You froze, until a Cookie you didn't recognize emerged from under the big fan-like leaves. They were dressed in elegant white robes, their long white hair tied back into a ponytail. The Cookie carried a staff, and a large hat obscured their face. You blinked, somewhat hesitant. Was this Cookie a friend of Gingerbrave's, or maybe they were from the Stock Tribe?

"Um… who are you?" You ask. The mysterious Cookie didn't reply, but they seemed to be inspecting you closely.

Before you could question them further, with a wave of their staff, the Cookie began to glow with an eerie purple light, and from a swirling vortex of magic, a fierce choco cream wyvern burst forth from the Cookie's form. You shouted in alarm as the wyvern pounced on you, pining you to the ground and trapping you under its sharp talons. You were lifted off the ground and into the air, being carried off to who knows where. From the last glimpses of the ground you caught, you saw Milk Cookie staring up at you in panic.

"Y/N Cookie!!"

You thought your life was over, that you would for sure be eaten by the wyvern that had caught you. Instead, it took you across the archipelago to a white opulent palace floating above the waves. It made its way into the palace, into a refined throne room. Strangely, the choco cream wyvern was careful not to damage you. But it still tossed you to the ground at the foot of the throne. You quickly picked yourself up and saw a majestic Cookie sitting on the throne, dressed in white robes and adorned with golden armour. You stared in disbelief as you came face to face with the Ivory Dragon themself, Longan Dragon Cookie.

"So, you've finally come." Longan Dragon said. "You are an intriguing one." They commented dryly. Four dragon eye orbs floating by their side zipped up to you, gazing at you from all angles. You scrambled to your feet, but the choco cream wyvern prevented you from backing away further, cutting off the only escape route.

"What do you want with me?" You said, trying to keep your voice from shaking. There was a tiniest hint of a smile on Longan Dragon's face.

"I have been watching you. And I have decided to show you mercy and bring you to my palace so that your weak, pitiful life may be spared." They explained.

You were stunned into silence. What about your friends, your village, and all the other Cookies?

"You should be grateful I didn't turn you into stone along with your village. Come here, now." Longan Dragon Cookie rumbled. It wasn't a request. It was an order. Not knowing what to do, the only thing you could do was comply. You prayed that your friends would be able to rescue you.

You approached the throne nervously, awaiting the Ivory Dragon's next command. You gasped suddenly as Longan Dragon Cookie grabbed you by the wrist and effortlessly picked you up and placed you on their lap.

You fidgeted as Longan Dragon Cookie's arm snaked around your waist and pulled you closer, your face suddenly grew hot.

"You will be staying by my side until I inevitably reduce all the weak, crunchy beings into crumbs, weak one. I will be needing a mate in the future." They growled softly in your ear as they stroked your hair. Longan Dragon Cookie's clawed fingers lingered on your neck and then trailed downward to your chest. You shivered and swallowed nervously.

You really hoped your friends got here soon.

[tarotbyjam24]

A compliment jar curated for you

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗

Disclaimer: this is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so 🕊️

Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️ Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

Masterlist\pick a piles feedbacks piggy bank

bunnies this is my 2nd time creating this whole reading cuz 1st time it got error and didn't get saved . Alright these compliments can be from anyone but the thing about them is that they're compliments that you need to hear . So come to this post as often as you feel you need a confidence boost your ✨ I'd love to hear your thoughts on this reading 🌸

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I also offer paid readings you can book one as it'll help me a lot and don't forget to check the free readings offer ✨

Pile 1 pile 2

pile 3 pile 4

Pile 1

you are very precious So please take care of yourself!!

Beautiful : definition:A person who is reading this

I am having trouble coming up with a compliment worthy enough for you

You're more important than you realise

I want you only you

You're the prettiest

My boy ! My euphoria! My babe!

Lady in blue

Sounds of the sea

I hope something good happens to you today

You're stars

Smile,it's free therapy

actually, you're not hard to love at all. get that out of your head.

The right people stay

meeting you was Like listening to a song for the first time and knowing it would be my favorite.

Pile 2

If I had to pick between being friends with you or being friends with Sir Patrick Stewart, I would pick Patrick Stewart.But I'd talk about you all the time.

your music taste is better than others .

REMEMBER THE DAYS YOU PRAYED FOR THE THINGS YOU HAVE NOW."

your friends love you they call you a cry baby

on the other side of the clouds it's bright blue sky

I love everything about you hate about yourself.

There are only, like, a handful of five-year-old girls prettier than you.

Physically into you mentally over you.

Turn it into art

true friendship is hating on everything together

you have a place in my heart no one else could have.

"And in her smile I see something more beautiful than the stars."

Good things take time

Pile 3

YOU MUST BE THE SQUARE ROOT OF TWO BECAUSE I FEEL IRRATIONAL AROUND YOU

I NEED TO GO TO THE POST OFFICE AND CHANGE MY ADDRESS TO YOUR HEART.

ID OFFER YOU A CIGARETTE BUT YOU'RE ALREADY SMOKIN' HOT

ARE YOU A WIZARD?BECAUSE YOU'VE GOT ME UNDER YOUR SPELL

YOU SPEND SO MUCH TIME IN MY MIND I SHOULD START CHARGING YOU RENT.

true friendship is hating on everything together

You're cool because you don't judge me when I get excited about something lame.

You're my heart in human form

Of all flowers: you

I care about your dumb ass a lot

.....the scents of roses ...

You did well today

I less than three you <3

Are Sambhal kar abhi gir jate na mere pyar m [Take care my love, don't you fall in my love]

Anyways I'm proud of my best friend

Kon tumnae bakwas karega jaise m tumse karti hu [who'll bicker to you the way I do it to you ]

Soulmates aren't just lovers

She looks shy but she's shy[tan] means devil

🩷To🩷 everyone🩷 who's 🩷felt🩷 like🩷 they 🩷weren't🩷 enough 🩷

Pile 4

I don't know who you think you are, but if you think it's someone sexy, then okay.

YOU MUST BE ONE SPICY DISH BECAUSE YOUR MAKING MY HEART BURN

CAN I BORROW YOUR SUNGLASSES? YOUR BEAUTY IS BLINDING ME.

your effort is very much appreciated- and so are you

I'M NO ORGAN DONOR BUT ID BE HAPPY TO GIVE YOU MY HEART

YOU'RE SO SWEET YOU'RE GIVING ME CAVITIES

YOU MUST BE A MAGICIAN, BECAUSE EVERYTIME I LOOK AT YOU, EVERYONE ELSE DISAPPEARS

YOU LOOK FAMILAR. DID WE HAVE CLASS TOGETHER? I COULD HAVE SWORN WE HAD CHEMISTRY.

Are you google ? Because you're everything I've been searching for

Friends who understand your talkative and quiet phases without taking anything personally >>

"Her aura is made of poetry, roses, and galaxies."

She's wisky in teacup

Quality over quantity typa friend

And till end you're my very best friend

Best friend nah ? She's my sister

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀Bless you and have a nice day🌸🐰 I'd love to hear which pile you chose

Loads of love , jam\gem🩷

[deebris]

Act 3: Retraction

Shelby family x sister reader (platonic!)

Synopsis: You’re wounded, Edmund Beaumont is dead, and Liam is missing. The news hits the Shelbys like an avalanche, fueling their rage as they see the condition of their younger sister. Now, the hunt for the boy, who has earned the family’s respect, becomes a top priority.

Warnings: Graphic violence, blood, explicit language.

Word count: ≈ 1.8k

ACT 1: Permission — ACT 2: Sacrifice

The early morning in Birmingham was even greyer than usual, as if the clouds had sensed Tommy’s conflicting thoughts. He climbed the steps of that old house, one just like hundreds of others, and stopped on the porch as if lost in contemplation.

Finn waited patiently below, hands clasped in front of him, a clear sign of unspoken shame. The boy was afraid of his older brothers and bore a black eye, a gift from John for his recklessness last night, when he left you alone while he enjoyed stolen whiskey with Isaiah.

They found you in tears near the Garrison. The gentlemen on the pavement made a fuss, and luckily, John and Arthur were inside. They tried to touch your bruised face, but you screamed in pain. Your body trembled as if you'd just emerged from an icy lake, your voice frantic as you sobbed incoherent words to them. Arthur said you didn’t let go of his arm for hours.

John went looking for Liam with a few men, at the very place you said he’d be. But when they arrived, they found nothing but a disturbing scene — the ground was red, Mark Winslow’s lifeless body lay bleeding near some barrels, and there was no sign of the other two. News spread across the docks and Small Heath like the plague.

Tommy arrived a while later, he and John standing over the scene, tense as stone. They both stiffened when a policeman approached, lowering his voice to deliver a whispered message from Sabini:

“The lad” Beaumont “acted for personal reasons, but they won’t hand him over.” The officer spoke hastily, his moustache twitching as he swallowed hard.

“Won’t hand him over, for fuck’s sake?!” John roared, kicking a wooden barrel with force.

“We don’t need them to. We’ll find him ourselves.” Tom stated, voice as calm as ever. “This stopped being just Winslow’s problem the moment that lad and the Sabinis decided to shelter him.”

He didn’t have the heart to tell you they hadn’t found Liam. Instead, he told you a lie. And it was only with that false hope that you managed to sleep.

“He’s fine, just a few scratches.” That was the lie he crafted, avoiding the bright, hopeful eyes of his younger sister as he reassured her in a half-hearted embrace.

A butcher claimed he had seen the end of the fight when he stepped out to take the rubbish. Edmund Beaumont had run after his friend hit the ground, while Liam, too injured to even walk properly, clutched his stomach the entire time.

“The mate was stubborn, wouldn’t let me touch him.” The man’s voice was weighted with pity. “Said he needed to know if someone… a girl, I think, was alright.”

Back in the present, Tommy sighed, weary from staring at the worn wooden door. But just as he raised his hand to knock, something stopped him.

“Can I help you, sir?” A timid voice made him turn his head. A woman stood there, firewood in her arms, her expression laced with concern.

“We’re looking for Liam Byrne. Are you his neighbour?” He asked, slipping his hands into the pockets.

“Is he in trouble?”

The suspicion in her tone made Tom go silent. He assessed the woman once more, glancing at her house next door. Two small silhouettes were visible in the window, probably her children.

“He isn’t.” The answer was curt, only deepening her doubt.

“Miss Mason, do you remember me?” Finn interjected, stepping forward. “I’m… I’m a friend of his.”

The last words left his mouth with difficulty, as though he no longer deserved to call himself that after everything.

She wet her lips, studying Finn with more attention, recognising the boy as, in fact, one of Liam’s friends. She hesitated, but then gave in:

“He didn’t come home last night.” She glanced around as if speaking about it were dangerous. “Liam never got himself into trouble. He’s good. So if something’s happened, please, tell me.”

Tommy stepped down from the porch, frowning at the information.

“He didn’t come home?” The question was rhetorical, but even so, the woman nodded again.

“His mother stayed at mine last night. She’s terribly worried.”

“We’ll find him, miss. Don’t worry.” Finn spoke with newfound determination, stepping closer to his brother to whisper:

“I think I know where he might be.”

Tommy had no choice but to let himself be led once again. They walked briskly, heading towards the outskirts of Birmingham, where abandoned train tracks lay forgotten. Rusted wagons, overgrown with vines, stood scattered around, the metal nearly swallowed by the wild.

He didn’t want to imagine what Finn and his pals used this place for. Tom knew his younger brother’s antics well enough to be sure that knowing the details would only give him a headache.

“Liam came here with us sometimes. When he had time, at least.” Finn murmured as they searched. “There was one time… well, he wasn’t feeling right and ended up here.”

Tom remained silent, exhaling sharply. That boy, Byrne, had surprised him — and, in a way, he felt indebted. But here and now, searching for him, Thomas realised it wasn’t duty driving him. He genuinely wanted to find the dockworker, as if looking for one of his own.

A twig snapped underfoot, and as he reflexively glanced down, he spotted a red trail.

“Check the wagons.” He ordered, moving swiftly.

He searched frantically, weaving between the rusted compartments, his tension mounting as he found more blood. The thought of Liam lying dead made his throat tighten with guilt. What would he tell you? What would have become of you without him yesterday?

“Tommy! I found him!” Finn’s voice rang out like salvation.

Tommy sprinted towards his brother, climbing into the wagon. Liam was slumped against the wall, pale as a sheet, his face battered and bruised. His hand still clutched his stomach, just as the butcher had said.

“He’s been stabbed.” Finn stated flatly, reaching out to check if Liam was conscious.

“Liam.” Tom patted his cheek. “Liam, come on, son. Wake up.”

“Is he dead?”

“No.” Tom snapped, hating the thought. “Go get John. And a doctor.”

Finn nodded like a soldier receiving orders, but before he could leave, a weak grip caught his coat.

“And a doctor, you hear me?” Tommy repeated. “Don’t forget the doctor.”

“Right.” Finn locked eyes with him, every nerve in his body primed for action. And when Thomas let go, he bolted.

“Mr Shelby?” Liam’s voice was barely above a whisper. He was weak, exhausted, and parched.

“My boy, let me see.” Tom reached for his bloodied hand, but the lad wouldn’t let go.

His body was so spent that he barely felt the pain.

“Is she alright?” His words were faint. “I need to know if she’s safe, Mr Shelby.”

“She’s safe, lad. She made it home.” Tom reassured him. “Why did you come here?”

“My mum… I didn’t want her to see me like this.” He spoke as though he weren’t barely clinging on.

“Thank you.” The words were heavy, worth more than gold.

“I didn’t do it for you, sir.” He answered simply. There was no contempt, just the truth.

“I know.” Tom exhaled, hand resting against the back of Liam’s head with rare tenderness. “I know.” He repeated it more intensely, as if that was exactly what he was thankful for.

He no longer resembled the same man who had welcomed him to his office the previous week.

“Which one of them stabbed you?”

“Edmund.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched.

“He’ll pay.”

“You shouldn’t get involved, sir. The Sabinis will think I acted on the Shelbys’ behalf. You’ve got enough trouble with them as it is.”

“But you did act, lad.” Tommy’s voice carried conviction. “You risked your own life for a Shelby.”

“I’m not a gangster, sir. Nor a killer. It was an accident...” Liam finally broke. The tears fell down his cheeks, as if they had been waiting for permission. “My mother can’t know. It’d destroy her.”

“She won’t hear a word about what happened. I'll handle it, don't think about Sabini.”

“You can’t fix death.” Liam murmured, and the only thing Thomas could think of was that the boy was right. And that's why he wouldn't let him die. “Please, don’t tell her either. Don’t tell her I killed him.”

Her. You.

He hesitated for a moment. But when he exhaled, he gave a single nod.

“She won’t know.”

That promise was the last thing spoken, as Tommy made sure Liam stayed conscious until help arrived. He pulled off his coat, using it to wipe the dirt from the lad’s mouth and his exposed neck. By sheer luck — or perhaps some desperate instinct — Liam had found a position that slowed the bleeding. It was the only reason he was still alive.

“Where are they?” John’s voice rang out, slightly muffled by the distance. Tommy stood, stepping out of the wagon to face him.

“It’s not so serious. It's only bad because it took a long time to be treated.” The doctor declared, his voice steady, a man well-seasoned in his profession, and well-paid for his discretion.

With swift efficiency, he assessed the wound. A second later, he was pressing gauze to it, soaking it in alcohol. Liam groaned, the pain sending a violent shudder through him. His trembling hands, slick with blood, tried in vain to push away the three men working on his wound.

Both Shelbys, faces grim and damp with sweat, lifted him carefully, ensuring they didn’t make the injury worse. Liam let out a muffled cry as his feet left the ground, the throbbing agony making his vision blur.

The car that had brought them there, a black Ford, was parked just a few metres away. Moving quickly, Tommy pulled open the back door as John eased him onto the seat, placing a folded coat under his head for support.

“Hang in there, mate.” John muttered before sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Liam.” Tommy’s voice was firm as he spoke the name, stopping the door before it closed.

“Yes, sir?” He responded with a grunt.

“You have my blessing. You hear me?” The sentence came out in a rush, urgently. “I give you my permission.”

Even through the fever, even in his dazed state, Liam understood exactly what the older man meant. His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, and for the first time, his furrowed brows weren’t from pain, but from relief.

And then he smiled. A small, knowing smile.

“Thank you, sir.”

Tag list:

@jsprien213 @salvatt1 @themorriganisamonster @thatsroug @sxurcherries @mclarens-type-is-my-type @boomdolle @macimads @sangdium45

[hotchscoffeecup]

tied up in knots

pairing: emily prentiss x fem!reader

rating: m (mdni 18+)

word count: 3.6

summary: after dropping a less than subtle hint (a book on shibari bondage) into your go-bag, prentiss suggests a new and exciting sexual endeavor for you to explore together as a couple. after solving the case, she sneaks into your hotel room to bring this vision to life and you’re more than happy to play into the fantasy.

tags: shibari bondage, vaginal fingering, strap on sex

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks, eyeing you curiously.

You blink out of your momentary stupor and look at your boots before glancing back up at the jet. “What?” You feign a laugh. “Sorry, just wondering what’s taking the stairs so long to descend.”

“I’m just asking because you’re holding onto your bag there like it’s going to grow legs and run away” Reid inclines his head towards arms, which are currently cradling (okay, clutching) the tote bag you usually let hang casually off your shoulder. He snorts a short laugh, “Which is of course impossible.”

You force a chuckle and thank God when the jet doors hiss and the stairs descend. The rest of the team arrives and you don’t miss the intense look Emily levels at you from beneath her long lashes as she silently passes you to ascend the steps onto the jet. Her vanilla almond body wash envelops you and it alone is enough to bring a furious heat to your cheeks.

Or maybe it’s the fact that she’d slipped a book on shibari bondage into your bag in passing in the bullpen like it was a totally normal thing to do. You felt its weight like a stone and worried that everyone around you knew what haughty material you were hiding.

Emily had said nothing when she’d dropped the book into your bag. In fact, you’d not even realized what she’d done until your personal phone buzzed, which was odd. You almost never received any texts or calls while at work that didn’t go directly to your work cell. Prentiss’ name had flashed on screen and you’d wondered momentarily if she’d meant to text your work phone.

I got you a present.

Brow furrowed, you’d bent down to check your bag and found a small book with a black and white cover titled: Shibari 101: A Beginner’s Guide to the Art of Japanese Bondage and immediately panicked, allowing the magnetic snaps of your tote to snap back together and hide it from sight. You’d managed to smack your head against the bottom of your desk and yelped in pain, drawing the eyes of all of your coworkers.

Derek had arched a brow and leaned back in his desk chair to investigate the source of distress.

“Everything ok over there?”

You’d nodded and rubbed at the back of your head, cracking a smile and shrugging. “Clearly, I just need another cup of coffee.”

Derek smiled and returned to his work. “You and me both.”

You swallow nervously and relinquish your grip on your bag, allowing it to swing by your side and remind yourself that none of your teammates have xray vision.

After securing your go bag into the overhead bin, you slump down into the nearest seat and tuck your tote back behind your legs.

Hotch wastes no time passing out Manila folders to everyone. As the plane kicks up speed and soars into the air, he briefs the team on the case they’re heading to in Cheyanne, Wyoming to investigate. While his balanced tenor drones on about what they know so far, you feel your phone buzz in your lap. You carefully click the home button to wake up your screen and read the message from Emily.

I’ve got big plans for you. Check page 102 for a sneak peek.

You gulp nervously and nearly jump out of your skin when Hotch says your name.

You drop your phone back into your lap and look up, eyes searching and landing on Hotch, who looks less than pleased. “Anything you’d like to share?”

Emily snickers softly across the way and bites at her cuticles before pretending to read over the case file.

You shake your head. “No sir, sorry.”

He presses his lips together and nods. As he returns to what he was saying, you shoot Emily a dangerous look and she only smirks in response.

“Thanks everyone,” Hotch says in dismissal and everyone breaks up to return to their preferred in-flight activities.

Reid cracks open a well worn Chaucer novel, Morgan slips on his favorite pair of Beats headphones, and JJ and Rossi join Hotch towards the front of the plane to continue coordinating what will happen when they touch down in Wyoming.

You abruptly rise to your feet and shuffle towards the back of the plane where the coffee pot light blinks warm and invitingly. The coffee mugs clink as you pull one down from the locked cupboard overhead and pour yourself a fresh cup.

Emily sneaks up behind you and passes a subtle hand across the small of your back.

“Have I ever told you how good you look in blue?” She asks smoothly.

You cut her a sideways glance and ignore her as you tear open a packet of Splenda and pour it into your coffee.

“Oh c’mon,” she croons with a playful jab at your ribs. “I gotta be honest, I’m hot just thinking about it.”

Your eyes fly open and you take one step into her personal space, so close that you can feel her breath on your lips.

“Jesus, Emily!” you hiss. You glance over your shoulder and no one is looking in your direction. You grab her by the wrist and abandon your coffee on the counter to drag her further away towards the restroom. “You can’t just drop bondage books into my purse while we’re at work!”

Emily looks down the slope of her nose at you and licks her lips daringly. “Adds a little something to it though. Makes it all a little bit more naughty.”

A furious heat blazes across your cheeks as her tongue pops on the last syllable of the word naughty.

“There it is,” she says, lowering her voice. Her words are all feline as she speaks. “That basal instinct that comes with sex and the urge to explore the more clandestine parts of our hedonistic needs.”

You swallow, feeling her words slide over your skin and elicit goosebumps across your arms.

“Page 102,” she whispers in your ear before stealing your cup of coffee and sashaying back down the aisle towards her seat.

Blowing a strand of hair out of your face, you brace your hands against the counter and wonder what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into. Are you wholly and utterly enamored by Emily? Yes. Have these last six months of secretly dating been the most exhilarating (and somewhat stressful hiding it from the team) experience ever? Also yes. She was brilliant and daring with a beautiful mind and body to match. Sometimes you just felt…inexperienced, but you loved exploring your sexuality with Emily. She introduced you to such fun and tantalizing behaviors in the bedroom. Hell, you’d never known pleasure like the kind Prentiss delivered. Just thinking about it sends a rush of heat through your core and you have to bite back the smile spreading across your lips.

“You look happy.”

You startle, smile fading instantly as you clutch your chest. “Christ, Morgan.”

He chuckled and reached over you to get a coffee mug. “Lost in a daydream, huh?”

You glance over his shoulder and see Emily taking a sip from your coffee and a small smile returns to your face. “Yeah,” you answer, letting your mind wander to whatever might be awaiting you on page 102. “Something like that.”

•

You heave a sigh of relief as you step out of the bathroom, a fluffy white towel wrapped around your body while you towel dry your hair with another.

This case had been a whirlwind, but at the end of the day the team had managed to save two women and brought the man responsible for their kidnapping to justice. It wasn’t often you got to see victims return home to their families. It was a victory unlike any other in your field of work.

On top of the win, you’d been able to spend more time working with Emily. Hotch had paired the two of you together to interview the families of the two young women who had been kidnapped. You’d learned a lot from watching Emily and Derek work together and Emily and JJ. Sympathizing without becoming overly attached, knowing what to say to avoid making someone angry, knowing what to do when someone inevitably gets angry because the situation is out of control and you’re the only one that can help bring them a modicum of peace. This was something Emily does with ease, likely the result of growing up under the tutelage of an ambassador.

You don’t even realize the smile curving at your lips as you think about Emily and the way the baby blue scoop neck she’d been wearing clung to the curve of her body.

A knock at the door causes you to jump and you stumble to the bed where the contents of your go bag are haphazardly strewn about.

“Just a second!” You call out as you search for something to throw on.

“It’s Emily!” Her voice is muffled behind the door.

You relax a little and stop frantically throwing your clothes about. Holding your towel tight to your chest, you cross the room and unlock the door.

When you open it, Emily flashes you a smile; her teeth white against her berry lipstick. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, the dark fringe framing the delicate arches of her cheekbones. You look down either side of the hall for signs of the team before pulling her into the room.

Emily chuckles as you close the door to the hotel room and lock it. She inclines her head to kiss you and you let her steal a quick kiss before you step back and point a finger at her.

“You have been extra flirty this week, what gives!”

Emily arches an eyebrow and huffs, though a smile still plays about her lips. “Damn, I knew I should’ve been insulting you instead of complimenting you!” She snaps her fingers and shakes her head. “That’s how you win the girl!”

You roll your eyes and smile. “Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s the sweetest. I guess I’m just not used to so much affection being directed my way. It’s—” You take a step towards her and reach for her hand to intertwine your fingers with hers. “It’s nice.”

You press a kiss to her lips and glance up at her dark eyes from beneath your lashes. “I like it when you’re nice.”

“Yeah?” Emily asks. Her lips brush against yours as she speaks, “And what if I wasn’t so nice?”

Your brow furrows at the question and when you meet her gaze again it’s filled with lust as her eyes study your body.

Your pulse quickens as your mind flits back to just before you showered. As you’d pulled out your toiletries kit from your go-bag, the evocative book Prentiss had subtly gifted you had fallen out onto the floor. You’d forgotten you’d hidden it beneath all of your clothes deep inside your go bag the minute you’d keyed into your hotel room. It hadn’t been until you noticed the steam rolling out into the bedroom that you'd forgotten you’d already turned on the shower. You’d just gotten so absorbed in the outrageously complicated positions and knottings of ropes around limbs and wondering where she’d stumbled upon it.

A thud pulls you back to the present and your gaze drops down to your bare feet where Emily dropped her go-bag.

“Do you want to know what I packed?” She asks, her voice taking on a feline quality.

You swallow as you stare down at the bag and images of page 102 flash across your mind’s eye. Biting the inside of your lip, you nod and feel heat pool inside your belly as Emily smiles at you wickedly.

You gasp into Emily’s mouth as she steps forward and captures your lips with hers. Her hands clasp either side of your face as she pulls you in closer and your hands instinctively wrap around her waist.

You taste her vanilla chapstick as your tongue slips between her lips and she chuckles against your mouth as she walks you back towards the bed. When your legs bump up against the mattress, you allow yourself to fall back onto the bedspread; sliding your legs up and around Emily’s ass to pull her down on top of you. Her lips find the corners of your mouth before trailing down the column of your throat before pausing to suckle the top of your breast. Your right leg stays hooked around her waist and you pull her in closer as she pulls aside the towel and sucks your nipple into her mouth.

You moan as she teases the taut peak while her hand moves to palm and tweak the other between her slender fingers.

“Were you thinking about me?” She asks, voice husky as she releases your aching nipple. “In the shower?”

She rubs the pad of her thumb over the swollen area in slow, teasing circles and you whimper out a stilted, “Yes.”

Emily hums satisfactorily as she presses her lips against the soft flesh of your breast. She leans back and pulls the towel away from your body, exposing the rest of your bare skin now pebbled with goosebumps. Her dark hair falls over her shoulder as she tilts her head to admire the curves of your body and when her gaze drops to your core, you can’t help but feel the steady pulse deep inside of you drum harder and she hasn’t even touched you yet. You bite your lip and rock your pelvis back into the mattress to try and assuage the ache, but it only makes you that much more aware.

“You’re glistening for me,” she says, her lips curving into a sinful smile.

“And what are you going to do about it?” You challenge, though it’s extremely hard to keep your composure.

Emily arches a perfectly manicured brow and you know there’s no escaping whatever she has planned for you as she turns to scoop her bag off the floor.

You lick your lips as she reaches into the bag and your eyes widen as she withdraws several coils of black satin cords.

“Page 102?” You ask.

She smirks in turn, “If you’re still game.”

You nod, feeling excitement stir in your belly. “I am.”

“Then just lie back,” she says, “and relax.”

With soft, knowing hands she guides you into a kneeling position with your legs spread wide. The air is cool against your slick heat and you stir impatiently as she weaves the cords in and around your calves and thighs, binding them together so you’ve no choice but to sit back on your heels.

“Where did you learn how to do this?” You ask breathily, your chest already heaving with want.

Emily doesn’t lose focus as she threads the cord around your wrist and tethers it to each ankle, but her berry colored lips curve into a smile. “Would you believe me if I said the internet?”

The laugh you breathe out ebbs into a moan as Emily pulls the knot tight, drawing your wrists down and forcing your chest out. Your breasts ache to be felt by her and a needy whimper eks past your lips as she takes a measured step back to admire her handiwork.

You ought to feel vulnerable, spread out and exposed like this; but you only feel wanted and desired. That isn’t hunger in Emily’s eyes as the deep brown of her gaze admires your figure. No, it’s more than that, an all consuming reverence and you know that she’s about to worship at the altar of your body.

You rock back on your heels and whimper as the bonds tighten around your legs, sending a shiver of need up the length of your spine.

“Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to come fuck me breathless.”

A daring challenge enters Emily’s eyes. Without breaking eye contact with you, her hands tug at the belted waist of her trench coat. As the garment comes loose and falls about her ankles, a throbbing pulse beats deep in your pussy.

A black lace teddy hugs her figure, accentuating the muscular curve of her waist. The ribbed framing pushes her tits up and all you want is to press your lips against the soft skin of her breast and taste her, but that’s not what surprises you most of all.

You swallow and feel your breathing increase as Emily’s elegant fingers trace the leather straps of a harness down to where a thick, purple strap-on is fastened against her pubic bone. She curves her fingers around the shaft and pumps it gently.

“I think you’ll be more than breathless when I’m done with you.”

She kneels on the bed and crawls slowly towards you. You squirm beneath the binds and watch a devilish grin form upon her face as she presses herself up to kiss you. Your mouth automatically opens for her and as she presses her lips against yours, you naturally fall back into the pillows stacked against the headboard. You feel the heat of your desire slick down your inner thigh and you simper against her mouth as you feel your arousal mounting without her even laying a hand on you.

Emily’s lashes flutter as she glances from you to your slick cunt. “Are we ready?”

You bite your lip and nod resolutely, a needy, “Yes,” gliding off your tongue.

Emily slides one finger into your core and you grind against the movement. Slowly, she pushes in a second and then a third. You take a sharp inhale of breath as you adjust to her fingers stretching you, but there’s very little resistance from how wet you already are.

“God, you’re incredible,” she whispers as she slowly begins to glide her fingers in and out of your core, making sure to curve just right against the soft spongy cleft within you. Each pump of her fingers against that sensitive spot sends electricity through your veins and you can’t fight the moans she easily elicits from you. The pace is wickedly torturous and you need more. You crave more. You rock against her hand, though your movement is restricted by the binds she so expertly wove.

When her thumb begins to circle your clit, your brain dissolves into nothing more than TV static as your body becomes a live wire under her electric touch.

You feel your pleasure mounting, a wave cresting higher and higher beneath her undulating hand. A furious heat blossoms in your chest and tears through your entire being as your heart pounds against your ribcage. You try to stifle the moans erupting from your throat, but it’s hard to control any part of your body as your muscles go rigid and your orgasm rips through you. The cords stretch as you pull against the power of your climax and before you can even catch your breath, she takes to one knee, positions herself up against your core, and slams the strap into you.

You rear forward and bite into the flesh of her breast to keep from screaming out as the strap fills and stretches you. Stars dot the corners of your vision as she grabs the headboard behind you and uses it to propel her hips forward, driving it in deeper with each thrust. Before you know it, you’re climaxing again, but she doesn’t relent. It isn’t until she wrenches a third orgasm from you, that she finally slips out and catches you as your spent body falls forward against her.

Her thumbs splay across your cheeks as she praises you for taking her so well. She presses tender kisses all over your face as she loops her arms around your waist to undo the ties binding your wrists. As soon as they’re free, you reach up and pull her face to yours, kissing her fervently.

You stop and rest your forehead against hers. “So that was—?”

She nods, smiling. “Page 102, yeah.”

You lick your lips and nod, confirming the information. “And how many pages are in that book?”

“About 200.”

“Let’s keep reading it.”

She flashes you a grin. “Yeah?”

You kiss her again. “Definitely.”

She helps untie the remaining cords and slowly helps you stretch out your sore and aching limbs. She massages lotion scented with jasmine deep into your muscles and you groan languidly as she digs into knots you didn’t even know you had.

After wiping you down, she calls for fresh sheets from housekeeping and helps you dress in your favorite pair of sweatpants and borrowed FBI academy sweatshirt. You’d stolen it long ago and she’d never asked for it back.

You sit in the lounger in the corner of the room and watch as she changes into her own comfortable clothing and hides away the evidence of what you’d just done away in to her go bag; the strap already washed and dried. When housekeeping comes, she strips the sheets and remakes the bed and you just watch with a lazy smile plastered to your face.

“I can feel your eyes on me,” she says teasingly.

“I like watching you,” you respond easily.

“Well, why don’t you come crawl in between these sheets and choose something to watch on Netflix.” She pulls your laptop out of your backpack and places it on the bed. “I’m going to go brush my teeth.”

And so you stand up and crawl into bed. You power on your laptop and choose an early 2000s rom-com and as Emily clambers into bed beside you and wraps an arm around your waist to pull you in to nestle against the crook of her body, you know there isn’t anywhere else you’d rather be than in this bed, sharing these moments with her…even if you were on a case.

But you’d worry about that later.

[moonydustx]

A not so funny story

requests | mastelist

Summary: With Uta controlling everyone and the marine attacking, you needed to contain an unconscious Law who was looking to join the fight. Now, you need to deal with the consequences of him finding out about this.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x F!Reader

Warnings: blood, Law hurts Reader (not on purpose), they both love each other, but they are idiots who don't know how to talk. Law doesn't know how to express his feelings in this one. Angst, kinda fluff/happy ending.

W/C: 3.6k

A/N: I just saw the movie Red and the idea came to my mind. I need to shake off the rust and get back to writing, I thought it would be a good solution. Despite being linked to the film OP Red, there may be some things that differ from the canon.

For those who haven't seen the film, a spoiler-free context: in the film, we see a singer called Uta, who Bepo is a fan of and, together with Law, go to the show. Problems happen, she puts everyone to sleep and with her power, she manipulates these sleeping people to fight with other people who want to stop her.

italics apply to flashbacks and thoughts

Part 2 | Part 3 (NSFW)

The cold stone beneath you contrasted with your hot, sweaty body. You could feel the wounds burning on your body and if you reached out your hand, you could find the cause of them, your captain.

In the distance, you could hear someone calling your name and it didn't take long for Penguin to appear in your field of vision.

"Are you okay?"

"He gave me a hard time, but I'm fine. And you?" You grumbled, sitting up and taking in your surroundings. Apparently everyone had gone back to sleep.

"We're tired but fine. You're bleeding, do you need any help?"

"Everything is fine." You stood, with his help. "We need to get them out of here, I doubt the marines will miss the chance to catch so many pirates gathered in one place. At the very least, this will end in a fight."

You chose to help carry Bepo back to Polar Tang. Even though he was big, sharing the weight would be much easier than carrying Law alone. As soon as you entered the submarine, you disappeared from sight, leaving all of Uta's fight behind.

"Do you guys need help? I can see some pretty bad injuries from here." Ikkaku approached, already stopping the blood on your forehead. "Are they both okay?"

"We should take them to the infirmary and keep them under observation." you warned, seeing two other crew members carry them out of sight. "Can we get away from the fight?"

"Yeah, off their radar." someone answered you in the background.

"Perfect, keep us at this depth, keep an eye on the radios, any sign of change, if Law hasn't woken up, you look for me." You leaned against one of the tables, trying to ignore some of the pain in your body.

It was supposed to be just a quick show, at least that's what Bepo had said. Unfortunately for Law, he ended up being the polar bear's requested companion.

"Sure you don't want to change places with me?" Law appeared next to you, while you finished cleaning the kitchen.

"No captain, I'll be right here, with my duties." You smiled at him and, despite being frustrated, he let out a sideways smile.

"You know that I'm the captain right? That I can give the order and you have to go and I don't."

"You wouldn't be so mean, would you?" you asked indignantly and on one of the few occasions, you heard him laugh, even if it was low tone. "Captain!"

"I'm kidding. Just keep an eye on everything, okay? Don't let Shachi and Penguin cause any trouble."

"Yes, sir. And you, enjoy the show."

You were almost regretting not accepting the proposal. Law would certainly be much better at containing you and preventing you from getting into a big fight than you would be doing the opposite. But you liked the idea of ​​him trusting you.

"Everything is alright?" Ikkaku took you out of your reverie, noticing your body slightly bent and the blood falling on your forehead.

"Try holding back a furious Trafalgar Law from wanting to get into a fight and tell me if that's okay." You laughed, even though it took some of the air out of you. "Just a few bruises, nothing major."

"Come on, I'll help you take care of this." Ikkaku gently pulled you by the hand.

"Boys, do you deal with them?" you asked and they both nodded. "If Law wakes up, don't say anything to him about our little fight."

"You mean, about the big fucking beating he gave you?" Shachi teased you, earning a push.

"Exactly. He has bigger problems to worry about than dealing with this."

You and Ikkaku headed towards the dorm you shared. Your friend made a point of supporting you at every step, even if you insisted it wasn't necessary. She sat you down on the bed and grabbed a small first aid kit hidden on one of the shelves.

"Why not tell the captain?"

"Outch" you mumbled with one of the stitches she had on your face. "I have a feeling he's not going to like that we got into this fight without his presence."

"I think he'll be more resentful that you were the one who held him back." You laughed at her silly observation, then grumbled with another needle. Damn fight. "Don't act stupid."

"What you mean?"

"I'll let you choose. Between you being the only one who can steal books from him without him complaining or about every time we disembark, you having to be on his side. Should I mention that time he freaked out because Kid wanted to take you to the crew from him?" she laughed to herself, at her own memory. "What do you need to see that he likes you too?"

"And who said I like him?"

"Okay, you still want to keep hiding your feelings for him, just hide it better." she laughed again. It was clear to her - and anyone else who saw - that there was something between the two of you. You just prefer not to feed this illusion. "Still, I agree that he won't like all this one bit. Let's try to keep out of his sight."

Law was still trying to assimilate everything that happened. Uta's show had turned into a war scene and in the end, even he had become a puppet. That idea would haunt him for a long time.

Despite recent events, Polar Tang was quiet, too quiet. He could hear some buzzing, nothing he could identify. Another thing he couldn't place was you. The last time he saw you, he had tried to bargain for your presence at the show, even though he had asked to change places with you, he didn't think the idea of ​​going with you was bad. You'd probably hate the song, but he'd enjoy your sarcastic comments about any awkward situation. A small laugh crossed his lips when he thought about what you would say to see little Bepo.

At dinner, he observed Shachi, Penguin and Bepo, talking to each other. The concerned expressions denoted the seriousness of the matter, but that could come later. Even though he slept through it all, he still felt tired.

At lunch the next day, again, nothing from you. Ikkaku was also missing. It was impossible for the two of them to have disappeared together and without any justification. He tried not to think about the worst-case scenarios, but no matter how much he denied it, he wasn't such an optimistic person.

It only took a few seconds of your three companions stalling for him to know that you and Ikkaku were up to something or had already been up to something. He left them behind, following with firm steps to your room.

"I didn't see you two at lunch or yesterday at dinner, I wanted to know..." you two found Law leaning against the door of your room. His relaxed position disappeared in seconds when he looked at where Ikkaku's hand joined your forehead. "What happened?"

"Just a few scratches, nothing major." your colleague replied before you could open your mouth. She knew - actually, you weren't that good at hiding it - about your feelings and how easily you could wrap your head around your own words.

"Yeah, they're from yesterday, some scratches." you tried to complement, the captain's serious expression made it clear that that hadn't helped at all.

"Nothing much and that's why you haven't shown up since yesterday?" he grumbled and before he could continue his lecture, he felt his body being pushed forward, with Bepo, Shachi and Penguin falling beside him. "What the fuck?"

"We just wanted to know if you already know that she was the one..." before the bear finished speaking, the other two covered his mouth.

The grey eyes trailed from you to Ikkaku, to the group lying next to him, and back to you again. The small stress that was forming inside Law turned into concern when he saw the small trickle of blood dripping from your eyebrow.

It only took a few moments away for you to appear like that and he would never tolerate that, you didn't need to know about his feelings or how he was already thinking about taking revenge on whoever had done that, he would deal with it after taking care of your wound .

"Everyone out." you made to follow Ikkaku, stopping a few meters away. "Not you, I need to see this."

The door to the small room knocked subtly behind Law, who waited for a few seconds to approach you. The two of you already had a considerable height difference, but when you felt Law's cold, tattooed fingers on your chin, you felt even smaller. He turned both sides of your face, despite the cold touch, you could feel your skin burn beneath his fingers.

"You're warm, but I don't see any trace of infection." Not this one, you thought. "Give me the name?"

"Name?"

"Which idiot did this?" he replied without much patience, his fingers leaving your face behind.

"This is going to be a funny story." you laughed, stopping immediately when you saw him look deep into your eyes, his expression serious in an almost irritating way.

"Someone decided to hurt one of my crew. I don't think it's such a funny story. Who did it?"

"Captain of the Heart Pirates, Trafalgar Law." your answer didn't seem to catch him instantly, with each word that left your mouth, you could see him getting paler and paler. "I believe you already know, but Uta managed to control everyone who was asleep to attack the pirates and the marines and with that, you and Bepo were also controlled. The boys held Bepo and I had to deal with you, but everything is fine. "

"They told me about Bepo..." he seemed lost for words, taking a certain distance from you and leaning on the small table in your room. "So you restrained me, alone?"

"You, actually Uta, didn't have access to your Devil Fruit powers, it ended up being easier. After all, our mission was just to keep you two away from the navy." you explained, leaning on the opposite side to where he was, seeing his crestfallen expression. "Like I said, it's okay captain."

"Where else did I hurt you?" the question took you by surprise, making it difficult to hide your reaction. "I know my strength, I have a feeling it wasn't just that. I could see it myself, but I trust you, so please."

With your fists clenched and your gaze following your every step, Law could see your hand go to your ribs, along with a grumble, as you bent down to pick up a small cloth and fill it with something that smelled similar to alcohol. As much as he noticed you trying hard, he could see you limping. He watched you smear the contents on one of your cheeks and your arm, revealing some bruises.

You stopped in front of him, letting him analyze. Despite the pain throughout your body, Law's proximity was almost like an anesthetic. If he stayed there, you wouldn't mind spending the day under his gaze. Law took your arm, gently sliding his fingers under the bruise, watching you flinch in discomfort. His hands practically put your arm back in place and placed themselves on the zipper of your jumpsuit.

Your hands placed themselves next to his, pulling the device and opening the entire piece. Of all the times he had dreamed of touching your skin, none had felt like this. He liked to imagine how soft it would be, to think about how your body would shiver, to feel with his own lips every piece of exposed skin, while he heard you ask for more. All the purple spots he had dreamed of leaving on your skin were nothing like the one he saw. Thoughts would need to be put aside at that moment.

His hand knocked down one side of your jumpsuit, showing the large bruise on your rib, which made him hold his breath for a few seconds.

"What else?" his voice was barely audible. He knew there was more to it, but he didn't want to be invasive.

"Just this cut." you took off the other strap of your jumpsuit and let it fall below your waist, showing the wound on your thigh. It wasn't that big, but when you both looked at the place, you understood where all the warmth in your body was coming from. "Shit. It wasn't like this last time I looked." actually it was, you just wanted to spare him the worry.

You adjusted your jumpsuit, leaving the top hanging around your waist. Your eyes searched for Law's, but he seemed to be far away, even just a few centimeters away. For some time, he didn't say anything. His eyes followed one point you had shown and others, looking for other signs. His hands prostrated in front of his body, why had he done that? Why hurt you?

"Law?"

"I...I..." the words seemed stuck somewhere inside him. His hands placed themselves next to your face, a gesture you hadn't received from him yet. "I don't know how to apologize. Forgive me, I didn't want any of this to happen."

"No need, Law, really. I was doing what any of us would do, taking care of our crew, taking care of our captain."

Again the words seemed to have escaped him. He just wished he could hold you and apologize a thousand times, hold you there and heal every little part of you and never allow anything to hurt you again. Some conscious side of him screamed in the background that this wasn't anyone's fault, but the sound seemed so far away to hear, while the picture of what he had done was so close to him.

A few seconds passed, his hands were still on your face, while you just enjoyed the awkward affection you received. He didn't know how to deal with that feeling, it was a guilt like he had never felt. Along with a fear, a need to see you well. There were too many things to deal with and at that moment, he chose to be the most rational one.

"It's infected and may have broken something." Law let his medical side take control of the situation. "Room. Shambles."

Before you even noticed the blue dome surrounding you, the two of you had already been transported to the infirmary. You remained standing in your place as you watched the captain hurriedly walk around the room, collecting some materials and before you could try to get on the stretcher, the two of you were already being taken to another place.

The table full of books, the small window of the Polar Tang showing some little orange fish passing by outside, a cozy bed, even with the sheets spread out. That definitely wasn't your room. You watched Law leave the materials on the table and reach Kikoku. You saw the blue dome again, this time, you knew that he was using his powers to confirm that you had indeed presented all your injuries to him.

"I was worried about your rib, but apparently it was just the bruise. Now about your leg, I may need to redo those stitches and medicate you. I can't let the infection spread."

You knew he was nervous, bordering on anxious, but you had known him long enough to know that stopping him from treating you would be even worse. You had chosen to hide your injuries so that Law wouldn't feel guilty, now that he knew, you didn't have much else to do.

"Law." you called out to him carefully, as he prepared the medication. "Do you mind if I bathe first?"

"Sure, I mean, no problem. Just wait a second." He walked away from the table and piled up some things, which he handed into your hand. "Here's my towel, I also left some clothes in case you want to use them, if you don't want to, that's okay. I can ask Ikkaku..."

"This is perfect, thank you Law." you hugged the small bundle of clothes close to your body.

"Room." again, in a matter of seconds, you were at the bathroom door. "I'm sorry, but your leg is really hurt, you shouldn't force it while walking."

"Okay" unlike the time he had taken you to the infirmary, now he had transported you close to each other, which made the air disappear from your lungs. "Can you wait for me? I mean, you said I wouldn't I should force my leg and..."

"I'll be outside, just call me and I'll be here." Please call me, Law's inner voice practically screamed.

Your shower was much quicker than you expected. Just knowing that he was waiting for you outside made butterflies fight in your stomach. You gently dried your body and took the clothes he had given you. Something that looked like shorts - it might have been underwear, but you didn't worry about that right now - and a black button-down shirt. As soon as you button the last button, you can pay attention to the smell of the fabric. Something soft, woody, you wondered if that was his scent.

"Law?" All it took was a small call and he soon entered the bathroom. Not as discreetly as he expected, his eyes roamed your body. "Can you help me?"

"Of course" your feet left the floor, giving you a few seconds to assimilate that he had picked you up and carried you back to the room. He hadn't done this before, but you preferred to just enjoy the sensation, locking your arms around his neck.

With a few steps inside the room, he placed you lying on the bed, pulling a rod further to the side, only then did you notice the hanging IV.

Law bent down, reaching your arm level, cleaning it with a small piece of cotton. He looked at the wound on your leg. In silence, he cleaned the area and took some bandages, placing them across the entire length of the wound. The contrast between your warm skin and his cold hands was strangely comfortable. You wished they would last a little longer there.

"I think we can leave these stitches for another day, but I need you to take this medicine. It's an antibiotic, the infection is small, but I'd rather take care of it soon." He pulled the small needle, seeing your face pale. "I'm sorry darling, but it's the best option we have."

Darling.

That word would echo in your mind for a long time. The fear of the needle that was about to come into contact with your skin eased when you saw the care he took with each gesture.

"Just don't look, okay?" He waited for you to close your eyes. "Just a few seconds and that's it. You'll feel sleepy, but that's normal. As soon as you wake up, I'll bring you something to eat."

He got up and started to adjust the pillows on the bed, the ones that were around and under you. His hands rested around your body, his body was on top of yours, even without any immediate contact. It was inevitable not to get lost in his eyes, or see him do the same with yours. You would like to engrave that in your memory, forever.

"Are you comfortable?" his face still had the same tense expression from the first moment he found you in the room.

"I am, I promise." you replied, in a burst of courage, you brought your hand to his face, touching his cheek. "Law, what worries you so much?"

He walked away, sitting at the foot of the bed. You just straightened up so you could look at him. His tattooed hands took off his hat, fingers tangling against the dark strands.

"I can't deal with the fact that I did this. I did this to you. Of all the people that could have been there, I hurt you." he grumbled, turning so he could look at you. "You do not understand."

"Actually, I understand." your answer left him stunned for a few seconds. "But don't blame yourself, you didn't choose this, captain"

"I know, but at the same time..." he huffed, trying to find the right words, which scratched his insides every time he looked at your scourged face. "You understand me, huh? I mean, I don't just see you as a crew member and something tells me you don't just see me as your captain. And knowing that of all the things that could have happened, I hurt you. I promise compensate you for everything."

"About what you said, about what we see in each other." your thought was interrupted by a long yawn. "What should we do about this?" You made to get up, but the IV attached seemed to transmit drowsiness straight to your body. Your eyes were already starting to get heavy.

"That we can deal with this later. You took care of me, now it's my duty to take care of you. For that, you need to rest." His hands reached yours, giving a slight laugh when he saw you fighting with your own eyes, wanting to leave them open. "I promise not to hurt you again or let anyone else hurt you."

Before you fall asleep for good, you can feel his lips on your hand.

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [18]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 17 | Fic Masterlist | Part 19

Despite the blurring of his vision, Seonghwa desperately stumbled towards the entrance of his estate. He needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. If anyone noticed his severe wound, it would only be a matter of time before you found out too.

That was the last thing he wanted.

He had tried so hard to hide his injury from you, not wanting to cause you any more worry. Perhaps having Yeosang pursuing you wasn't such a bad thing after all. Unlike the general, the prince wouldn't have to leave for war and risk his life. His Highness also wouldn't have the burden of blood on his hands or the constant fear he instilled in you.

Most importantly, the fourth prince wasn't on the brink of death, bleeding out at this very moment. Prince Yeosang could consistently remain by your side, offering a life even more luxurious than this. Though it pained him to think about leaving you to another man's care, Seonghwa convinced himself that this was all for the best.

His gaze locked on his horse, still waiting by the entrance, servants tending to it. He was determined to ride back to the warzone, if he could survive the journey—or anywhere else, for that matter. He understood that you wouldn't be able to bear seeing him in such a state, regardless of the cruel words he'd uttered just moments ago.

That was the kind of angel you were.

From the beginning, he recognised your heart of gold. It was what endeared you to him so deeply; you were unique in that way. Despite the torture your family had subjected you to, he knew you would never wish ill upon them regardless.

This was all the more reason he couldn't allow you to discover his injury. He knew without a doubt that your heart would soften instantly and forgive him for all he had done. He couldn't afford that; he needed you to despise him. Only then would his absence hurt less, and perhaps, it would steer you toward the prince. You deserved far better than anything he could offer. Despite facing his own mortality, nothing frightened him more than the uncertainty of your well-being in the world he was about to depart from, leaving you behind.

"Master, are you departing so soon?" The servant, looking after the horse, was taken aback by his master's abrupt decision to leave. Everyone had anticipated him staying at least a day to resolve matters with the mistress and spend some time together before returning to the war site.

Seonghwa nodded, striving to maintain his composure, "Yes, assist me onto the horse. I'm needed back at the warzone."

Observing the general's slightly pale and sweaty visage, the servant refrained from commenting on it for fear of angering him. Instead, he bowed, "Of course, master."

But before your husband could even mount his horse, the last person he wanted to encounter at that moment called out to him from behind, "Yah, Park Seonghwa! How dare you try and leave without even saying hello?" He froze at Hongjoong's loud voice, a shiver of apprehension running through him as he glanced back to see his old friend, accompanied by Wooyoung, approaching, "Sir, are you really leaving already?"

Goddamnit, so close.

Meanwhile, across the estate, Yunho and Jongho hurried towards the House of Lotus, only to discover you all alone and heartbroken on the ground. The assistant gasped, rushing to help you up, "Mistress! Are you alright? Where's the general?"

Gazing up at him with tears streaking your cheeks, your heart ached at the mention of Seonghwa. Noticing the physician beside Jongho, eyes darting around urgently, you frowned in confusion, "He left not long ago... What's happening? What's wrong?"

You had remained motionless since your husband's departure, sprawled on the ground with tears streaming down your face as you struggled to comprehend the sudden change in his behaviour. Why was he treating you like this? Could there be any truth to his harsh words? Had he already grown tired of you? Just when you thought your anguish couldn't intensify, the anxiety evident on the assistant's and doctor's faces only heightened your dread.

"He left?! I'm sorry, mistress! There's no time to explain. Here, read this, and you'll understand." Jongho exclaimed urgently. Yunho dashed out as soon as he heard your words, prompting the younger man to swiftly shove a crumpled piece of paper into your hands before hurrying after the physician.

As you hastily wiped your tears, your trembling fingers unfolded the crumpled paper to reveal a letter from General Officer Song Mingi addressed to the doctor. Your heart sank to your stomach as you read the hurriedly written words.

'Physician Jung, I hope this letter finds you swiftly, for it bears urgent news concerning General Park. In the recent battle with the enemy forces, he sustained a grave injury inflicted by a weapon laced with viper venom. Upon discovering the nature of the toxin, we immediately recognised the severity of the situation. The venom acts swiftly and ruthlessly, spreading its deadly effects throughout the body if not treated promptly. Time is of the essence. I implore you to attend to the general without delay.'

Letting out a shaky exhale, the letter slipped from your trembling fingers and fell to the ground, the weight of its contents settling heavily in your chest. Every word echoed in your mind, painting a vivid picture of Seonghwa's dire situation. It felt as if the pieces of a puzzle were falling into place, revealing a truth you hadn't dared to consider before. Had he been in immense pain this entire time?

The thought sent a chill down your spine.

Was it possible that your husband's sudden shift in behaviour, his departure, and harsh words, were all a desperate attempt to protect you from the truth? Was he afraid to burden you with the knowledge of his injury, to face your worry and concern?

Park Seonghwa, you bloody idiot.

Your heart ached at the possibility. Despite the hurtful words he said to you, a wave of empathy washed over you, mingling with the fear and uncertainty swirling within.

With determination fueling every step, you left your quarters in search of the general, resolved to stand by him regardless of the obstacles ahead. Your love for him was unwavering, and you were prepared to fight for him with every fibre of your being. He was mistaken if he thought his attempts to push you away would succeed. You refused to leave his side without a fight.

As you arrived in the main courtyard, your heart lurched at the sight before you. Jongho and Wooyoung were scrambling to hold up your husband, who appeared unconscious, while Hongjoong and Yunho guided them past you, heading towards what you presumed to be Seonghwa's private quarters. Their apologetic glances only added to your distress as you stepped aside to let them pass, your eyes growing wet at the sight of his pale and weakened appearance—something you had never witnessed before.

A wave of fear washed over you as you watched him being ushered away, threatening to consume you whole. The possibility of losing him suddenly felt all too real, and you couldn't bear the thought of a world without him in it.

Regret flooded your mind as you chastised yourself for not being more perceptive to his suffering earlier. How could you have let your emotions cloud your judgement? How could you have missed the signs that he was in such pain? You should have known, should have realised that he was going through something. You should have known that there must have been a good reason for his actions, for his attempts to push you away.

Deep down, you knew that he loved you just as much as you loved him, and there had to be a greater purpose behind his actions. All you could do now was have faith in his love and pray for his recovery.

The head maid rushed to your side, her face etched with concern, as she gently steadied you by holding onto your shoulders. You hadn't realised you were swaying until then, your head buried in your hands, "Come, mistress," She said softly, "Let's return to the House of Lotus and wait for good news. The master is in capable hands with Physician Jung. Everything will be alright."

You shook your head, voicing your protest, "But Eunsook, I need to be close to him—"

She smiled gently, squeezing your hands, "I know you do. But you wouldn't want to get in the way, would you? Let the others handle things for now, alright? Master will be just fine; he's much stronger than you think."

With a heavy sigh, you finally nodded in defeat and allowed her to guide you back to your quarters, realising she was right. You wouldn't be of any help to the guys, and it was better to stay out of their way while they worked to treat him at this critical moment.

Please, Yunho. I'm counting on you.

"Jongho, I need you to gather as much echinacea herb as possible from around town. It's the most effective plant for treating venom and relieving pain." The doctor urgently ordered, focusing on removing the layers of clothing from the general.

The assistant bowed, "Yes, Physician Jung!" before swiftly departing with Wooyoung, who had volunteered to assist.

Hongjoong stayed behind to help out, though he struggled to conceal his worry. His hands trembled as he observed the blood staining Seonghwa's clothes and noted the general's pale complexion as he lay almost lifelessly on the bed.

Noticing the dressmaker's distress, Yunho attempted to divert his attention, "So, where's the mistress?"

Clearing his throat to dispel the growing lump, the older man responded with a strained voice, "The last I saw, Eunsook took her back to the House of Lotus."

The doctor nodded, mustering a smile, "Good, it's best she doesn't see him like this. Now, hyung, I need you to focus and keep your emotions in check. Can you do that?"

Blinking rapidly, Hongjoong straightened up, determined to shake off the previous scene. Seonghwa had passed out shortly after spotting him and Wooyoung, halting any attempt to mount his horse. The surge of fear the dressmaker felt then was beyond words. But now, he knew he had to concentrate. Hearing Yunho use "hyung" after so long was grounding, a reminder that emotions had no place in their current situation. He nodded resolutely, "Of course. Just tell me what to do."

Together, they swiftly removed the general's bloodied clothes and tended to his wound, expecting a deep gash but finding only a surface graze. They were puzzled by the discrepancy between the amount of blood and the minor injury. Fortunately, it seemed the venom hadn't spread far; the discolouration was limited to the immediate area around the wound.

The physician concluded that Seonghwa's loss of consciousness was likely due to exhaustion and lack of proper treatment rather than the severity of the injury itself. With the herb they were gathering, he should recover fully in a few weeks.

Right on cue, Jongho and Wooyoung arrived back at the estate, slightly out of breath but carrying an abundance of echinacea as requested by Yunho. Without delay, the group of servants assigned to the doctor immediately sprang into action, following his instructions diligently. They divided the batch of herbs in half: one portion was prepared into a paste for external use, while the other was transformed into a tonic for consumption. With both methods employed, they were confident they could expel all traces of the venom from the general's system in no time.

As the first batch of medication was prepared within a few hours, the team of staff assisted Yunho with applying the paste over Seonghwa's wound and feeding him the tonic. They breathed a collective sigh of relief when they saw his condition stabilise. Hongjoong felt a weight lift off his shoulders as he watched the colour gradually return to his friend's face.

Turning to Jongho, the dressmaker spoke, "Go on and fetch the mistress. She must be worried sick about him."

With an enthusiastic bow, the assistant hurried off to find you after receiving an approving nod from the physician, signalling that it was safe for you to visit your husband. When he arrived at your quarters, he found you pacing anxiously. Your steps halted abruptly when he called out, "Mistress!"

You held your breath until the younger man broke into a wide smile, "He's okay. You can go see him now."

A wave of relief washed over you, melting away the fear that had gripped your heart just moments ago. A small part of you had prepared for the worst, imagining a world without Seonghwa by your side, and the thought left you feeling utterly lost and alone. The prospect of becoming a widow, of navigating life without the man who had brought so much happiness into your world, was almost unbearable.

So when Jongho appeared in a rush, your heart leapt into your throat with fear. But as he delivered the news of the general's recovery, you couldn't contain the flood of emotions that overwhelmed you. Tears of relief streamed down your cheeks as you thanked the assistant.

With a reassuring smile, the younger man gently led you towards your husband, guiding you to the one person who had always been your anchor in the storm.

As you approached Seonghwa's quarters, your heart raced with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. The memory of your last encounter with him lingered in your mind, casting a shadow of uncertainty over your thoughts. What if he didn't want to see you? What if his harsh words were a reflection of his true feelings, and he had truly grown tired of your presence?

However, anger also simmered beneath the surface as you contemplated the possibility. How dare he speak to you in such a manner, dismissing your feelings and calling you troublesome? The hurt of his words slowly gave way to indignation as you recalled the promise he had made to protect you from disrespect. Yet, he had been the one to wound you with his callous remarks.

Entering the room, you temporarily pushed aside the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed you moments before. Your eyes immediately sought out your husband's still unconscious figure lying on the bed, and all other thoughts faded into the background.

Yunho moved aside respectfully to allow you a clear view, bowing in acknowledgement before addressing you, "Ah, Lady Park, you're here. Well then, I'll leave the general to your care for now. I should probably go and write back to General Officer Song to update him on his superior's status."

You nodded gratefully, offering him a warm smile, "Thank you so much for all your hard work, Physician Jung."

He shook his head modestly, returning your smile, "Please don't mention it, my lady. I'm just doing my job. We've given him the first batch of medication so far, and thankfully, his body is responding well to it. I plan to administer this to him daily. I'm confident he should be fully recovered in a few weeks."

Sitting beside Seonghwa on the bed, watching him peacefully asleep, tears welled in your eyes. His chest rose and fell steadily, a reassuring sign that he was still alive, still with you. It felt almost like déjà vu, reminiscent of the moment when he had first discovered your scars, except back then, it was you who lay on the bed.

With a trembling hand, you reached out toward his face, longing to touch him, to reassure yourself that he was truly okay. But before your fingertips could make contact, his combat reflexes kicked in, and he startled you by grabbing your wrist tightly, his eyes snapping open in alarm. As recognition dawned on his face, he relaxed his grip, softening at the sight of you.

"It's you..."

His reaction, though simple, was more than enough to convince you that he still felt the same for you. Instant relief filled your being, realising that all your previous worries about him growing tired of you were for nothing. You should have known better than to doubt his feelings for you.

After a moment, as if recalling your earlier exchange, he released your hand and turned away, attempting to maintain a stoic expression, "What are you still doing here? Aren't you angry with me?"

You scoffed, withdrawing your hand and crossing your arms over your chest, "How long do you plan to keep up this facade? Wasn't it enough that you said those hurtful things to me earlier? Calling me a burden and suggesting I leave you for another man."

At that, Hongjoong and Wooyoung interjected, reminding you both of their presence. The dressmaker shot up from his seat, his expression a mix of shock and anger, "He said what?! Park Seonghwa, you'd better have a damn good explanation, or I swear I'll knock some sense into you again—"

The private investigator quickly intervened, slapping a hand over the older man's mouth and offering a sheepish smile to you and the general, "Oh gosh, I apologise for him. We'll step outside to give you both some privacy to talk things over."

Once you were alone, your husband sighed heavily before sitting up, stubbornly dismissing your attempt to help him, "Listen, I meant what I said. Perhaps considering Prince Yeosang would be beneficial for you. You want happiness, don't you? You'd find it with a husband who doesn't have to leave, risking his life in wars. Someone who isn't stained with blood, someone who isn't a complete monster. It's for the best."

Your fists clenched as you glared at him, "Who are you to dictate what's best for me, General Park? You said it yourself, I'm my own person now, capable of making my own choices. I can do what I want and love who I want. Shouldn't that be left up to me?"

When he remained silent and continued to avoid your gaze, you pressed on, "And yes, I do want happiness. But how can I find it if I'm not with the man I love?"

At that, you sensed his resolve faltering.

Sighing, you reached over to cover his hand with yours, "There, I've said it. I love you, you moron. I don't want anyone else but you. Why is that so hard to understand? I don't care about what you've done to those people who call themselves my family; they deserved it, and I've forgiven you for it. I just... all I wanted was the truth and an apology from you. Instead, all you've given me were hurtful words. But I understand now. You were just scared, weren't you?"

Your heart fell when he still refused to meet your gaze, "Or was I mistaken? Did you truly mean what you said, wanting me gone?" You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his tight jaw, a clear sign of his restraint, "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me then. If you can do that, I'll go as you wish."

Finally, he turned to meet your gaze, his eyes pleading, almost begging you not to push him. You couldn't comprehend his stubbornness; was it just his pride getting in the way? With a defeated nod, you relented, "I understand. You must truly want me to leave and be with His Highness. I suppose there's no point in staying where I'm not wanted. Goodbye, General Park."

Just as you began to pull your hand away and rise from your seat, he surprised you by wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his embrace. His whisper in your ear sent shivers down your spine, "No, I'm sorry... You're right; I didn't mean any of what I said. I love you too, my wife. Please don't go."

With a tired exhale, you melted into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his arms as you buried your face against his shoulder. Each comforting squeeze seemed to ease the heartache you had been carrying, restoring a sense of wholeness within you. This was where you belonged, in his arms.

"You're such an idiot, you know that?" You murmured softly.

He chuckled against your neck, his breath tickling your skin, "I suppose I am." He admitted with a hint of amusement.

"About damn time you realised it, Park Seonghwa. I've been telling you for years. Disrespect your wife like that again, and I'll make you regret it—" Hongjoong's voice cut through the room as he burst in, followed closely by Wooyoung and Jongho, prompting laughter from you as your husband pulled you closer, using you as a shield.

"Please, he just regained consciousness!" The assistant interjected, defending his master despite earning a stern glare from the dressmaker. Deep down, however, everyone knew Hongjoong couldn't have been happier to see his friend alright.

« Preview of Part 19 »

In the warzone, Mingi paced anxiously, his mind consumed with worry for the general's well-being. It had been only two days since he dispatched the messenger to deliver his urgent letter to Yunho. He could only pray that Seonghwa had made it home safely and that his message had managed to reach the physician in time.

Despite his concerns, the strategist forced himself to focus on the immediate tasks at hand. He delved into refining his current strategies and devising new contingency plans for any potential scenarios that might arise before his superior's return.

Before long, a breathless soldier burst into the main tent with urgent news, rambling away in a panic, "Bad news, Officer Song! We were on standby at the border when..."

Mingi placed a reassuring hand on the soldier's shoulder, "Woah, breathe. Calm down and tell me what you saw."

After composing himself, the soldier continued, "Sir, Ruhon soldiers have been sighted approaching once again!"

Oh, crap.

He struggled to understand why this was happening. General Park had defeated most of the enemy forces in the last battle. Where could Ruhon possibly be sourcing this new influx of soldiers from? With the general absent, the strategist knew he would have to take command of the army despite his lack of recent battlefield experience.

But there was no other choice.

I hope you're happy with the outcome HAHA y'all, it's hilarious how accustomed I've grown to writing angst for this story that it felt incredibly weird to write a happy scene. Only two parts left, yippee!

As always, thank you so much for reading, and please let me know your thoughts! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[briarscreek]

Mediaeval Prisoner!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley had a problem

this wasn’t part of the plan. falling for the gorgeous dove who sang in his high tower cell when they cleaned the stairs (even though he had never seen you).

it was supposed to be simple: fight at the border, eventually be ‘defeated’, get dragged back to the false king’s castle, quietly feed information to his fellow knights (gaz & soap), and wait for the true king (price) to reclaim his throne.

sir simon had known misery before, he had to befriend it to survive everything he’s been through but this time felt different. he knew his true king and knights would come but he felt the fight for his life continue to slip every time he had closed his eyes to rest. no drop of water nor crust of bread was spared for him per the false king’s orders. truly withering away. maybe they’d give him a proper knights burial when they found his body.

upon one morning he saw it. a plate of fresh fruit and cheese, obviously stolen from the pantry by how squished the food was but he knew who it was from. a soft voice echoing up into his tower from the bottom of the stairs, along with the drag of a wet cloth along stone. it sung melodies both familiar and new. words he understood, feeling connected to each high note or elongated vowel.

he became accustomed to this new routine. he’d hear you sing throughout the day, help lull him to sleep at night and awake to a scrap of breakfast in the morning. he began to long for it everyday. just to hear your voice. just to know you were alright. just to keep his heart beating for you.

he heard them before he saw them, king price with his knights fighting to get through the front gates. it was only a matter of time, until he could slip to one knee and offer his very body and soul to the one servant who kept him alive all this time.

he didn’t know what you looked like but he didn’t care. he’ll find you, he promised to you and himself. he’ll treasure the one gift he was given for the rest of his days on earth.

NEXT>>

[xichilie]

HELLOOOOOOO GIESS WHO

Oh wait, I'm anonymous

Okay I'm the one who wanted to see Micahs design, absolutely hot BTW, so I saw the brant x fisalia reader fic, and wish to request a part 2, oh and a concept design of Y/N since she's a fisalia and they're pretty affordable just look at cantarella and Rosemary

and I love your art 😘

Tanks yous

Yes, I remember you. XD, and of course, I got multiple requests for a second part and i had time today. As for the concept art, I made one because yeah, you got me. I had this story with an oc in mind. XD I'll attach the picture at the end ♡

Brant x (fem)reader

A Flower Among Thorns (2)

Part1

Brant had been restless ever since that night.

The Fool’s Elysium bustled around him, music and laughter echoing off the cavern walls, but for once, he wasn’t reveling in the lively atmosphere. Instead, he sat at the edge of the stage, absently spinning a silver coin between his fingers, pink eyes unfocused.

Andreas leaned beside him, brow raised. “Alright, what’s got you looking all lovesick?”

Brant scoffed, slipping back into his usual bravado. “Lovesick? Please. I am merely… intrigued.”

Andreas wasn’t convinced. “Uh-huh. About what?”

Brant hesitated. He hadn’t told anyone about the girl who had found him, who had saved him. The one with the softest hands and a voice like a gentle melody. His angel. He didn’t even know her name, yet she had been haunting his thoughts ever since.

So, with a dramatic sigh, he leaned back. “A mysterious beauty healed me the other night. I woke up to the most enchanting creature Solaris-3 has ever seen. And yet, I know not her name, nor where to find her.”

Andreas snorted. “So, you’ve been sulking about a girl?”

“Not sulking. Longing. There’s a difference.”

Andreas rolled his eyes. “And let me guess, you’ve got no leads?”

Brant grinned, but there was an edge of frustration behind it. “Well, I know she smells like wildflowers, her hands are softer than silk, and her voice is sweeter than any ballad I’ve ever performed.”

“So… nothing useful.”

Brant huffed and stood up, dramatically flipping his coat. “Then I shall have to uncover the mystery myself.”

Brant spent the next few days asking around in Ragunna, trying to pick up any clue about his angel. But with no name, no description beyond “beautiful,” and only the memory of her kindness, it was harder than he expected.

At the bustling markets, he leaned against a vendor’s stall with his most charming smile. “Say, have you seen a girl who smells like wildflowers? Gentle hands? A voice like music?”

The vendor blinked. “Sir, that describes half the women in Ragunna.”

Brant groaned.

At a local tavern, he leaned over the counter. “You wouldn’t happen to know a lovely young woman who heals strangers in the dead of night, would you?”

The bartender laughed. “Son, if you’re looking for a healer, there’s a whole cathedral full of them.”

At the city gates, he approached a group of travelers. “Excuse me, have any of you encountered a heavenly being in human form? Delicate, kind, likely saving lives wherever she goes?”

One of the travelers side-eyed him. “...Are you drunk?”

Brant threw his hands up. “Not yet, but I might be soon!”

No matter where he searched, he found nothing. No one seemed to know her, or if they did, they weren’t saying. And Brant? He was getting frustrated.

Had he dreamed her up? Had she been a figment of his pain and exhaustion?

No. She was real.

And he was going to find her.

Even if it took forever.

Brant sat slouched on a worn stone bench in the heart of Ragunna, exhaling a long, theatrical sigh as he stared up at the evening sky. The city around him pulsed with life—merchants hawking their wares, distant music drifting from a tavern, the rhythmic clatter of horse-drawn carriages against the cobblestone. And yet, none of it reached him.

His mind was elsewhere.

On her.

It had been days, and no matter how many streets he wandered, how many people he asked—no one seemed to know who she was.

Which was frustrating, really. How could someone so bright, so kind, so full of life leave behind no trace at all?

Brant let out another heavy sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. "Am I cursed?" he muttered to himself.

"Not cursed," a voice chimed from beside him, smooth and amused. "Just terribly, terribly unlucky."

Brant blinked and turned his head, only to see Carlotta settling onto the bench beside him. Her white hair cascaded over one shoulder, her soft pink attire flowing like silk. Every movement, every breath she took was measured, elegant. She had the air of someone who could read a room in seconds and bend it to her will if she so pleased.

"Well, well," Brant mused, smirking despite his troubles. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Have you come to sweep me off my feet?"

Carlotta gave him a pointed look. "You looked like a man on the verge of another tragic monologue. I simply couldn't resist."

Brant exhaled through his nose, glancing back at the city. "I suppose I have been a bit… broody lately."

"A bit?" she teased.

He huffed a laugh. "Fine. A lot."

Carlotta studied him for a moment before tilting her head. "You're searching for someone, aren't you?"

Brant's smirk faltered.

She always was too perceptive for her own good.

After a beat, he nodded. "Yeah. A girl. She—" He hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "She found me when I was wounded. Helped me. And I haven't been able to get her out of my head since."

Carlotta's expression shifted slightly—an unreadable flicker of thought passing through her eyes. Then, after a pause, she sighed.

Brant immediately picked up on it. He narrowed his pink eyes. "You know something."

Carlotta smiled, amused. "I might."

Brant straightened. "Then tell me!"

She hummed in thought, then leaned forward slightly. "You said she healed you?"

He nodded.

"Then instead of asking the streets," Carlotta mused, "why not ask a healer?"

Brant blinked. "…Huh."

"A brilliant thought, I know," she said dryly, shaking her head. "There is one person who comes to mind—Rosemary. She runs an apothecary not far from here. If anyone would know about mystery healers, it would be her."

Brant sat with that information for a moment. Then, suddenly, he shot to his feet. "Carlotta, you absolute angel."

She smiled, satisfied. "I do try."

Without another word, Brant spun on his heel and hurried off into the streets, new hope sparking in his chest.

Maybe—just maybe—he was finally on the right path.

The bell above the door chimed softly as Brant stepped into Rosemary’s Apothecary, the warm, earthy scent of dried herbs and rare botanicals wrapping around him. The shop was meticulously organized, with shelves lined with glass bottles, labeled neatly in careful script. Bundles of flowers and herbs hung from the ceiling, casting delicate shadows under the soft glow of lanterns.

Behind the counter stood Rosemary.

She was a woman of quiet elegance—long, light purple hair, her features sharp but not unkind. Unlike the extravagant attire associated with the Fisalia Family, she wore a simple, well-tailored white-grey apothecary coat, the only adornment a fine silver embroidery along the cuffs. Her violet eyes, cool and unreadable, flicked up to meet his as she finished measuring out a fine blue powder, tapping it neatly into a small paper pouch.

Corking the glass vial beside her, she finally addressed him.

"Welcome to Rosemary’s Apothecary, where your perfect potion awaits. What do you need,?"

Her tone was steady, polite, yet held an edge of knowing. It wasn’t the first time Brant had walked through those doors, and she always greeted him the same way.

Brant let out an exaggerated sigh, draping himself over the counter as if utterly exhausted. "Ah, dear Rosemary, must we be so formal? No warmth? No 'Brant, you seem troubled, do you require a remedy for your aching heart?'"

She merely blinked at him. "Do you require a remedy for your aching heart?"

He grinned. "Not a potion, no. But I do require something only you can provide."

She didn’t react, merely set the pouch aside. "If it’s information, I deal in medicine, not rumors."

Brant smirked. "Ah, but this is not a rumor. It is a tale of fate! Destiny! The kind that inspires sonnets and songs for generations to come!"

Rosemary simply waited.

Brant exhaled, straightening slightly. "I'm looking for someone. A healer."

That made her pause, if only briefly. She tilted her head slightly, considering his words. "There are many healers in Ragunna."

"True," Brant admitted, before his smirk softened into something almost wistful. "But only one like this."

He closed his eyes briefly, recalling the memory of that night. The gentle hands, the soft glow of magic, the way she had looked at him—not with fear, nor judgment, but kindness.

"She has long, light purple hair," he began, voice unusually soft. "Like moonlight spun into silk. Her eyes… warm, like the deepest amethyst, the kind that draws you in, makes you forget yourself."

Rosemary’s expression remained neutral, but something flickered in her eyes.

Brant, too caught up in his own memory, missed it.

"And her voice," he continued, exhaling a breathless laugh. "Soft, like a lullaby. Gentle, calming. Like she could soothe even the most troubled soul."

His smirk returned, albeit fonder. "Which, of course, explains why she saved me. A lost Fool in need of salvation—"

"Was she alone?"

Brant blinked.

Rosemary was still watching him, but there was something… careful about the way she asked.

Brant thought back, tilting his head. "Yeah. No one else was there."

A quiet sigh escaped her. Not one of relief, but of trouble.

Brant caught it instantly, straightening. "Oh-ho? What was that? You know something."

Rosemary hesitated. It was the first time she had ever seemed uncertain about what to say.

Then, finally, she met his gaze directly.

"Forget about her."

Brant froze.

The lighthearted air between them vanished in an instant.

He had expected teasing, maybe some cryptic remark, but not… this.

His brows furrowed slightly. "…Why?"

Rosemary’s fingers tapped lightly against the wooden counter, her expression unreadable. "If she was alone, then she was somewhere she should not have been. And if you truly do not know who she is…" she paused, voice measured, "then it’s better that you forget."

Brant’s stomach twisted.

That didn’t sit right with him.

Not one bit.

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