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#that feeling of almost being airborne with the way his hair is flying all over the place and his pose

daydreaming-nerd · 1 month

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Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 2

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: My toxic trait is that I'll read Eris fanfic all day and swoon but the second I work on this series I tear him to absolute filth.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexisim, trauma from under the mountain, alcohol, Eris' hounds

Word Count: 3,754

The next few days fly by faster than expected and before I know it, I’m walking from my room to the foyer of The House of Wind. I don’t miss my reflection in the passing windows. Once again I had been poked, prodded and primped to perfection. My dress hugged my every curve, not that Eris needed an excuse to use his imagination more than he already was.

I step into the foyer and find Cassian there with his back turned to me. He hears the clacking of my shoes on the marble floors and turns around, the familiar red glow of his siphons both easing the and aiding my rapid heartbeat.

“What do you think? Do I look ‘wall ornament-y’ enough?” I laugh trying to hide my pain.

“No you don’t, you look like a princess.” Cassian laughs but I can hear the hesitancy in his compliment.

“Thank you,” I smile, ducking my head. “Is it just you and I today?” I ask, looking for a sign of my brother or Azriel.

“Actually it’ll be just us from now on. Rhys has assigned me to take you back and forth from the Autumn Court for the duration of your courtship.” Cassian says with a hint of annoyance.

“Oh I’m sorry, that seems a little below your pay grade.” I mutter as my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Cassian was The Lord of Bloodshed, not some personal bodyguard of mine.

“Don’t be, I could use some easy work,” he assures me. “Ready?”

“I guess so,” I reply, walking over to him so he can pick me up. Within an instant we’re airborne and I try to hold on to the sense of freedom that flying gives me before I feel suffocated under Eris’ gaze.

The first few minutes of flying neither of us speak. I can hardly think of anything besides the way his arms feel around me, and I almost wish he had the power to winnow like Azriel did to keep my mind from wandering towards places it shouldn’t.

“I hope you know I didn’t mean what I said the other day. You know, about you being a wall ornament. I was just trying to see Eris squirm.” Cassian confessed and I can tell by the tone of his voice that the subject had been plaguing him for a while.

“Don’t worry I rather enjoyed his squirming,” I laugh recalling the way Eris’ jaw ticked from Cassian’s sarcasm.

“Then I’ll be sure to do it more often,” he said with that knee weakening smile.

It wasn’t long until we reached the Autumn Court and from where Cassian meant to touch down I could see Eris’ fiery hair waiting for me. The second my feet touched the ground Eris was reaching out for my hand.

“You look ravishing my dear,” he said, placing a kiss to the top of my hand.

“You as well prince Eris,” I smile as he loops his arm through mine, leading me up the front steps of the palace.

“I see you brought your bastard dog with you again,” Eris chided, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where Cassian followed us.

“Don’t worry he’s potty trained, I even taught him to sit and stay,” I quip back as Eris leads me through the doors. I glance back at Cassian to give him an apologetic expression.

Eris lets out a hearty chuckle and I think it’s the first time that I’ve heard him laugh, “My dear you do have quite the sharp mind,” he says.

I glance up at the ornate ceilings above the foyer,“This place is huge, how many rooms?” I ask Eris, trying to change the subject.

“More than I’ve ever bothered to try and count, perhaps you can count with me today? I had hoped to take you on a little tour,” Eris answers, leading me down the hall.

Thick, lush garnet colored fabric covers the floors as ornate gold detailing lines the walls. The flames from the many chandeliers cast a warm light through the hall, and the colors of the Autumn trees can be seen through all the multi paned windows. I wanted to love this place, I wanted it to feel like home. Maybe it would have if Eris wasn’t such a viper.

We spent at least an hour wandering the halls of the palace, Cassian never farther than twenty feet from us. I was surprised to see that the place was near empty. My mind began to wander, was the place vacant because few people lived here? Or was it vacant because even the staff fears Eris? I suppressed the shiver that went down my back as I tried to turn my mind to other matters.

“I have something I wish to show you,” Eris says as he leads me outside.

The brisk air fans my face offering a breath of fresh air that I so desperately needed. His grip on me tightened as we approached a familiar looking barn. It didn’t take me long to realize that it was the same barn he had shown me earlier this week, the one where he kept his hounds.

We walk in through the wooden door and I’m greeted with the sight of at least a dozen kennels of dogs, all of them barking so loud my ears nearly rang at the sound. All of them, white, black and brown. As we made our way toward the back of the barn my gaze locked on a much smaller kennel where a litter of puppies played.

“Oh prince Eris! They’re so cute!” I cried watching them wrestle around with one another.

“I thought you might like them,” he smirked, leaning down to pluck one from the litter, placing it into my arms. The little puppy wiggled around licking my face, earning a giggle from me.

“What’s this one's name?” I ask, holding the puppy close.

“That one won’t get a name,” he answers, watching me and the pup intently.

“Why not?” I inquire, puzzled as to why such a sweet thing wouldn’t have a name.

“Because she’s a female and we don’t keep the females. They cost more to feed and keep than their worth.” He explains, like it’s common knowledge.

“But then how do you breed more?” I ask, holding the puppy even closer to my chest upon hearing its fate.

“She’s our breeder, and she has been for a couple of years now,” Eris replies, pointing to a fearful looking dog in the back corner of the kennel. “She always bears the strongest and healthiest pups, and most of them are male which is always advantageous.”

My stomach drops at Eris’ words. “Then why do you keep the female puppies alive for so long?” I ask, not sure I really wanted to know the answer.

Eris takes the puppy from my hands and puts it back in the pen where it begins to play with the others, “Because if we kill them right after their birth the mother gets lethargic and she refuses to nurse the males. We lost a whole litter once doing that.” he says once more, circling a hand around my waist.

My heart shatters at the realization of the poor puppy’s fate. “Oh,” I say in defeat, all thoughts from my head dissipating as I stare at the mother.

“I’m afraid we can’t all be pretty things for future High Lords to enjoy,” Eris smirks, nuzzling my neck. “Come, I have one last thing to show you before you leave.”

I nod, following Eris out of the barn, but I don’t leave without one last look at the mother dog in the back kennel. For a second I swear her eyes meet mine and there’s an understanding that we will both share the same fate, breeding vessels for higher powers.

We walk down along the river until we come across a large weeping willow. It appeared to have been there for years as its branches and yellow leaves cascaded down creating a large curtain around it. We had them all over the Sidra of the Night Court, but I had never seen one bear the colors of fall.

“That’s far enough bastard,” Eris curses at Cassian as he pushes back the leafy curtain to allow me in. I try to throw Cassian a fearful look but Eris closes the foliage curtain behind him before I get the chance.

I look up at the branches of the willow, doing my best to avoid Eris’ hungry gaze. The leaves are beautiful as the light of the setting sun shines through them, the slight breeze and the sound of the river flowing next to us made this place its own world.

“I can see why your family chose to keep you locked up for all those years,” Eris chimes, taking a step towards me.

“And why is that?” I say retreating a step, trying to keep my gaze on my surroundings.

“Because every legend I ever heard about your beauty is true,” he smirks, taking another step towards me.

My heart rate quickens and my palms go clammy as I take another step back, “and what do they say about me?” I ask, as if I don’t already know.

Eris chuckles, seemingly happy to recite the prose to me, “Eyes like a storm,” he starts taking another step closer to me.

I feel my bare back hit the bark of the willow and I realize that he has me pinned. He has been hunting me like prey this whole time and I was stupid enough to fall into the trap.

“Hair like threads of silk,” he continued, brushing a hand through my hair. “And skin as soft as rose petals,” he smiles, caressing my cheek. “The Jewel of Prythian and the weakness of every male.”

Eris’ breath fans my cheek as I feel his body press me into the willow tree, “It seems I have a lot to live up to,” I breathe, trying to keep my voice from quivering.

“Hardly.” he says, brushing a stray hair from my cheek. “You’re already the greatest temptation I’ve ever known and I think I’m tired of restraining myself from you.” he growls.

I don’t have a moment to think before his lips are smashing onto mine. My back scrapes against the bark and I know that there will be an angry red mark there when I free myself from Eris’ grasp. His tongue slides into my mouth and I feel my stomach burn. His lips taste vile, like they weren’t made for me, but he seems to be enjoying himself just fine. His hands wander my waist possessively, like I’m nothing more than an object for him to indulge in, though I suppose that’s exactly how he saw me.

Like a saving grace from above, the large bell atop the castle rang out, signaling that it was 7 o’clock, time for me to leave. I manage to push Eris off of me just enough for me to get a word in.

“Prince Eris, it's 7, my brother wants me home,” I say, placing my hands on his chest. My head casts down to where they spread over the expensive fabric of his shirt, the patterns being the only thing keeping me grounded.

“So punctual,” he tuts. “A frustrating quality now, but if things go well for us you’ll make quite the obedient little wife won’t you?” he smirks forcing my chin up so I can meet his domineering gaze.

“Yes of course my prince,” I say timidly.

“Good girl,” he praised, turning my chin to the side. The second the seventh bell chimes, a hand pushes aside the curtain of leaves and I’m relieved at the sight of Cassian.

“Princess it’s time to go,” he says urgently, the voice of a general making an appearance.

“You’re right,” I nod, trying not to look shell shocked. “Until next time Prince Eris,” I say as Eris kisses my hand.

“Until then my little flame,” he smiles.

I step out of the cover of the willow tree and Cassian wastes no time picking me up and shooting into the sky. I immediately feel better the second the wind whips my hair back and I can let go of the breath that I’m holding.

“Do you want me to take you to Rhys?” Cassian asks.

“No, just take me home please,” I reply, trying to hold back my tears.

As if he can sense my eagerness to feel safe in my own home he flaps his wings harder. We spend the entire flight in silence as I try to forget about the taste of Eris on my tongue but it’s impossible. The entire time we’re in the air I’m unable to think of freedom like I normally do. All I can feel is Eris' brand on me, and the second we touch down on the balcony of the House of Wind I feel every emotion I have come to the surface.

“Thank you for the ride,” I say to Cassian. My voice breaks as I turn from his gaze and make my way inside.

“Princess wait!” Cassian calls for me but I don’t turn around, whatever he has to say can wait.

I make a beeline for the kitchen. My tears are falling faster than ever and all I can think is, get his taste out of my mouth, get his taste out of my mouth, get his taste out of my mouth. I waltz over to the liquor cabinet and pull out the first bottle of whiskey I see. It spills a little as I frantically pour it into a glass and shoot it down my throat, the burn washing away any trace of Eris.

“Hey are you okay?” a voice drawls from behind me and I turn to see Cassian in the doorway.

“I’m practically engaged to a monster of course I’m not okay!” I cry shooting down another gulp of whiskey.

“Hey, hey hey,” Cassian coos, crossing the room to take the glass and the bottle from my hand. “It’s okay just breathe.” he says, pulling me into him.

The gesture makes me let go of all my inhibitions as I sob violently into his chest. I can barely breathe through my shallow breaths. I feel Cassian stroke a hand through my hair.

“H-how could s-someone be so terrible?” I sob through my ragged breaths. “Those poor puppies, and their mother? The way he t-touches me? A-and the way he speaks to you? I hate him.”

“Hey don’t worry about me okay? I can take it.” Cassian assures me. “Just take a deep breath for me alright?”

I listen to him and take a long deep breath, the smell of cedar and leather filling my senses calming me down instantly. He instructs me to take another one and I do, this time the heat of the whiskey warming my stomach helps calm me down.

Once I finally have my breathing under control he bends down to look at me, “Now, if we’re going to be drinking whiskey we might as well drink Rhys’ good stuff,” he smiles and for the first time that day I laugh.

“I suppose so,” I chuckle, wiping my tears away.

“That’s the spirit,” Cassian beams as he reaches for the large bottle at the top of the cabinet. He grabs two more glasses and takes them over to the living room.

I follow him and plunk myself down on the couch across from him. He pours us each a glass and raises his own in a toast.

“To old dogs that can learn new tricks,” he laughs referring to the comments made earlier today about him.

I roll my eyes playfully clinking my glass to his and taking a sip, “I’m sorry about that, Eris really is the worst,” I say.

“Then why are you looking to marry him? You know if you went and talked to Rhys right now that he wouldn’t make you do this.” Cassian asks, taking a sip.

I let out a long sigh while swirling the whiskey around my glass, “Because he sacrificed a lot for me under the mountain, I should repay the favor. Besides, he’s right. War is coming and if this is the only thing I can do to keep Velaris safe, and to keep you and Azriel safe then I want to do it.” I explain to him.

“You don’t have to worry about me and Azriel princess, it’s our job to keep you safe,” Cassian says leaning forward, setting his glass on the coffee table.

“I know, I know. You’re big tough Illyrians.” I roll my eyes. “But this is my duty, it’s what my father and mother wanted, it’s what I was made for. I don’t have earth shattering powers like my brother, or siphons and wings like you and Az. This is what I’m good for, and if it keeps my people safe then I’ll show up to woo Eris every single day with a smile on my face.” I say.

There’s a sadness in Cassian’s eyes and I can tell he wants to argue against me but he doesn’t, “You’re braver than most of the Illyrians I know. I think you could give Devlon a run for his money,” he says with sincerity, taking a swig from his drink.

“That might be a bit of an overstatement, though I bet with the right motives I could take him down,” I jest, sipping my drink.

“Now that’s something I would pay to see,” Cassian laughs. A moment of silence ensues before Cassian takes a gold mark out of his back pocket and twirls it in his fingers, “Have you ever played Marks?” he grins.

About an hour passes by and I’m thoroughly engaged in the game Cassian calls Marks. Apparently it’s a game he had been playing with Rhys and Azriel for years. The concept is simple, we both bounce gold marks off the table and try to land them in the glass in front of us. If I make it in the glass before he does, he has to drink and vice versa.

As simple as the game was, I couldn't lie that I was having fun. More fun than I have had in years. Turns out I was much better at Marks than Cassian had anticipated and throughout the hour I had him drinking like a fish.

That’s how Azriel found us, in a room filled with the sound of metal clattering against wood and laughter ringing out from both Cassian and I.

“Cassian, did you teach her how to play marks?” Azriel mused leaning over the couch next to me to watch.

“I did and it turns out she’s pretty damn good! I think the princess might be able to school you Az.” Cassian taunts.

I hear Azriel scoff beside me, “Oh please, move over and let me show you how it’s done.” he says sitting next to Cassian and picking up a gold mark. I don’t even have a chance to bounce mine before Azirel’s drops into the glass.

“Damn that was good,” I smile downing the last of my drink.

“Don’t worry princess, I'm sure you’ll be as good as me one day,” Azriel boasts proudly leaning back into the couch.

“Whatever Az,” I laugh standing up. “Well I think I’ve had enough to drink for one night. Goodnight you two.” I smile walking down the hall towards my room. I hear Cassian and Azriel bid me goodnight and for the first time in a long time, I go to bed with a smile on my face.

Cassian

A pretty little wall ornament for a future High Lord, just like you are…

You will bear me a son…

You’re already the greatest temptation I’ve ever known and I think I’m tired of restraining myself from you…

You’ll make quite the obedient little wife won’t you?

The things Eris’ said to y/n replay over and over again in my head causing my blood to boil. If it wouldn’t start an all out war I would out his head on a fucking pike and feed the rest of him to his hounds. I can’t stop replaying y/n’s face as she looked at the mother dog. It was clear that she knew that her fate would be the same as the animal. I was so blinded with rage I didn’t dodge Azriel’s punch fast enough feeling his fist connect with the side of my head.

“You’re off your game today brother. Any particular reason why?” Azriel taunts me from across the sparring ring. I didn’t want to admit he was right, but it was obvious my mind was clearly occupied today.

“I’m fine, I just didn’t sleep last night,” I told him, not entirely a lie. Azriel squares up again and I take my stance.

“You sure it doesn’t have anything to do with a certain princess you were sharing drinks with last night?” Azriel teases throwing a punch. I dodge it and throw my whole body into my next punch hating how he teases me about y/n. He dodges it and goes for the low blow knocking me down.

“I can assure you it has nothing to do with her,” I say from where I’m lying on the mat.

Azriel moves to unwrap his hands, seemingly calling it a day for the sparring ring. “Oh c’mon Cass, you’ve been pining for her for years.” he said, reaching out a hand to help me up which I took. “You need to tell her or you’re going to lose her forever.”

“I can’t. I won’t put her in an awkward situation like that, she already has enough on her plate.” I sigh, taking my own wraps off. “Besides she could never love someone like me, she’s a princess and ‘The Jewel of Prythian’ remember? Not to mention Rhys’ little sister. I’m nothing but a bastard born brute.”

“You really think she cares about something like that?” Azriel asks, wiping his face with a towel.

“I don’t have the guts to find out,” I answered sitting down next to him.

“Well if you’re looking for advice-”

“Which I’m not,” I cut Az off.

“But if you were,” he says, clapping a hand on my back. “I would tell her soon. Because if Eris decides that she’s worthy of bearing his sons he’s going to destroy her from the inside out.”

Part 3

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 , @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21,

#cassian x you #cassian angst #cassian smut #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #rhysand fluff #rhysand acotar #azriel angst #eris vanserra fluff #eris vanserra smut #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra

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animeloverskylarmoon · 1 month

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Mayuri Kurotsuchi (Bleach) - Chapter 3

These meetings always make you anxious. The second you stepped through those doors your chest felt heavy.

The captains were all lined up and Jushiro sent a sympathetic smile. You're technically still a member of his squad, but you practically live at the twelfth division now.

"Kurotsuchi, present your findings."

The head captain's tone never truly held much emotion unless he was scolding. It still made you weary. You're at the center, just waiting.

"Very well."

He stepped over to you.

You're not sure what's about to happen because he hasn't exactly been very forthcoming with his research.

"She possesses power that most of you cannot comprehend." Those clearly aren't the words they want to hear. A few of them shift, and Toshiro's eyes are focused on you. This wasn't exactly helping your case.

"You all fear her because you don't understand her power, it's actually quite pathetic. She is not a threat to us. Let me demonstrate."

You aren't really sure what exactly he intends to demonstrate. When he reaches for your blade you flinch. He pulls it right out of the sheath.

"W-Wait what are you doing!"

He lifts his own blade that glows. You gape when he raises your blade and brings his own down. It strikes your zanpakuto and you're shocked when the metal shatters into pieces. Your eyes shake and the entire room looks stunned.

Mayuri drops your broken sword, disinterested.

You drop to your knees, staring at the shattered weapon.

Jushiro is enraged.

"What is the meaning of this!!"

He looks ready to fight, but Shunsui grabs his arm, shaking his head.

Mayuri sheaths his zanpaktou.

"Is this not what you all wanted? For me to get rid of the threat." His words sound like a jab, and Toshiro looks a bit guilty.

"You view her as an enemy, why should it matter if she no longer has a weapon? Would that not give us the advantage? You fear her. Her power makes you uneasy."

You're still trying to process that it's gone.

You still recall when you got it.

"No way (Y/N)-chan, you have a zanpaktou!!"

The voice of your friend catches you by surprise. Growing up in Rukongai was rough. That's why when you all finally made it to the academy, it felt like a dream.

That morning you had woken to shouting.

You turned your head, and sure enough there was a blade right at the side of your futon.

"W-What! That's impossible! It can't be mine."

A few of the others were staring in awe. No one had truly gotten their weapons yet. You were all in the first phases of the training. According to the captains, attaining a blade usually took months.

You stare at the weapon, hands hesitant.

"Are you..really mine?"

You aren't sure what you're asking, it's not like it can hear you.

"Akaya. That's my name."

Your eyes widen.

"Did you hear that!!"

Your friend shakes her head.

"Hear what?"

You can't believe this. You must be hallucinating.

Unless...

"Akaya."

You say aloud.

It glows and gasps echo throughout the room. You don't know why, but it's almost like it's calling you. Reaching out, you pick it up and the familiarity of it is amazing. You feel connected.

"I'll treasure you, Akaya."

You finally understand what they meant when they spoke about the bond between a reaper and it's zanpaktou.

"I'm in your care."

Sitting there, it feels like you've broken that promise.

The somber looks are shared throughout the room.

"Akaya.." You whisper.

The light that elects from those pieces catches you off guard. Mayuri just smirks.

The entire room lights up and the gush of wind has your hair flying around wildly. A few of them cover their faces. When the light finally dissipates, your zanpaktou is airborne, hovering right in front of you.

Good as new.

On instinct you hold out your hands and it drops right into your grasp.

They just stare, astonished and you grip it.

"Akaya..y-you're okay.."

The second it was broken you should have been more worried about your title of a reaper, but the thought of being here without your blade was much more painful.

"I have adjusted the properties of my blade to reconstruct in the event that it is ever destroyed, but (L/N) has the ability to do it at will."

You look up at him.

"She's not dangerous. That day her zanpaktou was merely protecting her. Like all of us, our blades are part of us. She has just reached a higher feat. One that I intend to implement into my studies."

He's wearing that creepy grin whenever he finds something he'll like to tear apart, but you can't be happier. You're about to express your gratitude, but your head lolls forward.

Mayuri pauses, curious. When you lift your head, your gait changes. Your eyes are glowing.

"I appreciate you trying to prove your point reaper, but the next time you cause harm to my master, emotional or physical, I will not take it lightly."

Yamamoto stands, bringing his staff down.

"You are Akaya."

He questions. Your head nods.

"My alliance is to my master, no one else. Tread lightly."

That is surely a threat.

The spark in your eyes disappears and you blink.

The stares directed at you have you a bit uncomfortable.

"A-Ano..is something wrong?"

Jushiro just smiles.

"Welcome back, (Y/N)-san."

Your face lights up and you're beaming, because Yamamato just takes a seat.

"You'll be approved to return to your previous position. That is all."

Nothing else is said. With a thankful smile, you turn to Mayuri, bowing.

"ARIGATOU!!"

Turns out all you really needed in your life was this crazy scientist.

#mayuri kurotsuchi #bleach #experiements #humor #tests #mayurixreader #nemu kurotsuchi #feelings #care #soul reapers #soul society #trust

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sergeant-spoons · 1 year

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51. April Showers Bring May Flours

Leslie Sheppard

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow @chaosklutz @wexhappyxfew @50svibes @tvserie-s-world @adamantiumdragonfly @ask-you-what-sir @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert @holdingforgeneralhugs @claire-bear-1218 @heirsoflilith @itswormtrain @actualtrashpanda @wtrpxrks

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Nothing of much excitement had come to pass since Leslie and her friends bade farewell to London and returned to the Airborne. They reminisced about their trip often; where the boys missed restaurant food, the girls missed comfortable beds, and everyone missed having a break from their training. George sang the concert's entire repertoire on the daily. Don found it a bit hard to fall asleep without Leslie beside him for the first few days. Tink prayed less but attended mass more often. Still, these were all small effects, and relatively private and personal.

Then mid-April came to pass and brought an unexpectedly welcome visitor to the town.

It was two days after Easter Sunday when Captain Eades' niece and grandniece came to visit her in Aldbourne. The niece, Pearl, was married to a Scotsman who'd been on furlough the past week. She and her daughter had gone down to Plymouth to visit him, and now they were heading back northeast to Perth. Mama E had arranged to have them stay for two weeks with Mrs. Witchetty, who was more than happy to take on the small family for a short time—it had been a long time since she'd heard young laughter pealing through the house.

As soon as little Beth arrived, she became the darling of the household. Everyone down to the cats adored her, and she delighted in being doted on so dearly. Beth was only four years old, but she had already acquired the motor skills to run about like she was constantly in a race against herself. Her energy was only matched by Meatball, who seemed to have come alive ever since meeting Beth. They ran throughout the house as they played, and from his behavior, one might have inferred that Meatball was a small dog (and not a cat) if they didn't look closely enough. Socket, on the other hand, slept more, and if Beth was by some miracle sitting still, Socket could be found dozing at her side or with her warm, furry body tucked around Beth's back.

When she met Tink, Beth thought she was her de facto sister because they shared the same pale blonde hair. Tink didn't bat an eye and immediately went along with the imagination, and when she was home, Beth followed her reverently. Adorable hijinks ensued more often than not, and Tink always took the blame, pretending not to hear Beth giggling into her hair as Tink carried her around piggyback-style. The little girl liked Tink's friends, too. She was especially fascinated by Kiko's curls. She once asked her mother if she could keep the color of her hair but have curls like Kiko, and the three mechanics boarding with Mrs. Witchetty spent the rest of the afternoon curling her hair as close as they could get to Kiko's (which wasn't very close at all, but Beth was more than satisfied). Leslie, meanwhile, snuck her treats from the cookie jar and showed her how to fly a kite, and it wasn't long before Beth was asking her mother for a pair of overalls like Leslie's, too.

The only person who visited Mrs. Witchetty's more than Mama E had to be George. He showed up almost every day, and Beth squealed every time he walked in the door, scampering to hear whatever joke he'd prepared for her this time. She'd fall over herself giggling, and if her mother was busy, Tink would scoop her up and tickle her as she greeted George with a broad smile. Leslie could tell just by looking that George was falling in love all over again, watching Tink interact with this little girl who looked like she could be Tink's daughter. Having a little one in the house also got her feeling some kind of way, all fluttery and bittersweet and hopeful. She mentioned that to Don once, and though she'd meant it a bit offhandedly, he almost choked on his breakfast.

"I like the name 'Beth'," she mused once he was sipping at his water, mostly recovered. "What would you name a daughter, if you had one?"

"Helen," Don answered after some thought. "Helen, for my mother."

"That's sweet," Leslie replied with a smile. "I don't think my Ma would want me naming my kid 'Mildred', though. Maybe Merle, for my Dad. Yeah, I could make Merle work."

"Maybe as a middle name?" Don offered a bit weakly.

"Yeah, there you go! Hmm, 'Helen Merle'."

Leslie scrunched up the side of her mouth, and Don shrugged with feigned nonchalance.

"We'll workshop it."

"Yeah," she laughed, bumping her shoulder against his as if this was just another one of their jokes, unaware of how she'd made his heart pound with the implication of this imagined daughter being theirs. "We'll workshop it."

Tink left for Cardiff at the end of the first week. Her request for a six-day furlough had finally been approved, and her brothers and cousin Janie were just as eager to see her as she was to see them. She'd be there in Cardiff for four days with two more on either end reserved for travel. The day of her leaving, practically everyone and their mother (in Beth's case, quite literally) stopped by for the send-off. That morning in the garage, a few friends of theirs in the Mechorps gave Tink a small toolbox they'd assembled to give to her brothers. Around noontime, Beth, Pearl, and Mama E said their goodbyes; they needed to run an errand in town and wouldn't be back by the time Tink was gone. By mid-afternoon, when Tink finally had to leave to catch the train, they'd assembled so many friends that they had to borrow a car from the garage in addition to filling every available seat (and then some) in Mrs. Witchetty's car. Leslie drove with the guest of honor in the passenger seat, and she had to keep swatting away hands that reached forward from the back to pat Tink's shoulder, offer her a party horn, or get her to hold a pinwheel out the open window and let it spin in the breeze.

After they all came back from the station and dispersed, Leslie went into the kitchen for a snack and found George sitting at the table. She'd thought he'd gone back to the base with the others, and when she came in, he only hummed a hello, lost in thought. There was clearly something on his mind, so Leslie made no mention of her surprise and asked him instead if he'd like a few crackers while she had them out.

"Can I talk to you about something, Leslie?"

She slowed, looked at the cracker box where she'd taken it halfway out of the cupboard, and put it back.

"Of course." She came around to the other side of the table and drew up a chair beside her friend. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm in love with Tink."

"Ah." She clasped her hands before her, understanding the gravity of the matter. "And that means...?"

"It means everything is not all that okay."

"Gotcha."

George sighed, sagging in his chair and indenting his cheek as he leaned it upon a loose fist.

"I know I can't do a damn thing about it," he said morosely, "but I just had to tell someone."

Leslie blinked. "Whoever said that?"

"Said what?"

"That you couldn't do 'a damn thing' about it." She leaned sideways against the table, turning to meet George's gaze more fully. "You love her," she said, "and he-" They both knew who she was referring to. "-doesn't."

"You know that," George refuted sadly, "and I know that, but she doesn't."

"But she will!"

"Sparky-"

"Don't lose hope, George." Leslie reached over and took his hand, squeezing it in reassurance. "I know patience is hard when it comes to this kind of thing-"

He barked a laugh, interrupting. "Says you!"

Leslie, reasonably puzzled, drew her hand back and replied, "Yeah, says me."

Something seemed to dawn on George, and he sat up straighter, eyeing her with what almost seemed to be excitement.

"Says... you."

"Yeah, George, that's what I've-"

"Is there something you're not telling me, Leslie Sheppard?"

Leslie's freckles creased up as she emphasized the confusion of her expression.

"No..."

"I think there is." George was grinning by now. "I told you a secret..."

Finally realizing just what he was implying, Leslie put on a pitying face and quickly diverted the conversation.

"A secret? Oh, George—I, uh, I hate to be the bearer of bad news..."

His eyes went wide.

"She knows?!"

"She's just about the only one who doesn't," Leslie confessed, grimacing sympathetically, and George harrumphed.

"And you're just about the only one who-"

He broke off, looking guilty, but such a strange and bitter retort was so unlike him, and Leslie was so taken aback that she pressed him to tell her what he'd been about to say. She'd only gotten the first few words out, though, before Beth came racing into the room, skidding across the floor in her socks, and Leslie had to jump up to keep her from colliding with the oven. Unphased, Beth grabbed Leslie's leg and hung on, looking up at her with a wide, curious grin.

"Leslie?" That was Pearl, poking her head through the kitchen door. "There's a soldier here with-"

"Cimanim!" Beth shrieked excitedly. "Cimanim hair!"

Leslie relaxed. "That's my friend, Donald Malarkey."

Beth released Leslie and dashed over to George, grabbing his sleeve and tugging. "Marky's here!" she announced as if it was the most serious thing in the world, and beamed when George nodded just as gravely.

"Why don't you stay here, pumpkin?" Pearl suggested, then added to Leslie in a lower voice, "Your friend's got something for you. Thought you might want the chance to open it yourself."

Beth did have a habit of tearing open gifts that weren't meant for her. She still associated the word 'present' with herself and only herself, and she was still learning that just because something was in a box, a bag, or wrapped with newspaper didn't mean it was that kind of 'present'. Accordingly, Leslie went with Pearl, but not without shooting George a look over her shoulder—This conversation isn't over. He pretended not to see, now sitting on the linoleum floor with Beth as they played patty cake.

"You wanna know a secret?" he asked, and she nodded happily.

"I keep secrets good!" she exclaimed. "Mommy says so."

"I'm sure you can," he agreed, still patting his hands against hers, talking with the same rhythm to make her giggle. "Well, here's the secret: I have two friends, and they love each other very much, and they're going to live happily ever after."

Beth burst into raucous laughter, rolling onto her side, then popping back up just as soon as she'd gone down.

"Why's that a secret?!" she gasped with wide eyes.

"Because," he told her, giving in to her contagious laughter, "they don't know it yet!"

Beth tumbled about a little more, still giggling, and then stumbled to her feet and dashed out of the room to find her mother. She nearly ran into Leslie in the doorway and latched onto Leslie's pant leg, chattering about how 'Uncle George' told her secrets and how good she was of a secret keeper. Declaring for all the world to hear that she wanted applesauce, she ran off to ask her mother if she could have some from the 'refwidawader', a word she was still learning to say. Leslie quirked a brow at George, and he, smiling fondly—and a bit secretively—shook his head. So he hadn't told Beth about his feelings for Tink, then, it was another secret, no doubt a harmless one.

"You've got a spring in your step," he remarked as she came fully into the room, and she beamed, presenting the lidless, octagonal box in her arms.

"Look! Don bought me a new hat."

"Oh," George mused, peering at the handsome russet newsboy cap. "Very nice."

"He bought it when we were in London, he said—I didn't even notice him slipping away, he was so quick about it—and it just came in the mail today, so he brought it by to surprise me." Still grinning, she cradled the box in her arms, looking at the cap in its bed of tissue paper. "I'm going to send it home, of course, for safekeeping, seeing as the war's still on—not to mention, Mama E's already a little unhappy with the girls and I keeping so many personal things, even when we're not on the base, so..."

Though he was clearly listening, George had started chuckling as if he knew something she didn't, and Leslie trailed off with a mild frown.

"What?"

"He bought you a hat?"

"Yes!"

Her smile returned, but then George smirked, and it waned again.

"A hat."

"Yes, a hat."

"Not a ring?"

Leslie could feel the heat blooming pink across her cheeks, and she cleared her throat, squeezing the hatbox as she looked aside. George was plainly amazed by her reaction, but she was saved from having to explain herself by Beth hurtling back in, unstoppable in her mission. While Leslie went through the bowls and helped Beth pick the nicest one (only the best for her applesauce), George watched them, shaking his head, his smile one of incredulity.

Sheesh. Maybe I'm not the most hopeless case after all.

"No, three!" Beth insisted when Leslie tried to hand her a spoon, holding up three little fingers. "You eat, too!"

Leslie looked over at George, and when he shrugged, she turned back to Beth and reached back into the silverware drawer.

"Three spoons it is."

Although April might have been a slow month, a great deal happened in May of '44. Tink returned from Cardiff on the 2nd completely rejuvenated, loaded with stories, jokes, photographs, and love from her family. To all those who knew her well, it was evident in her lightness of spirit that Charlie Hammond and his tomfuckery—as Leslie referred to it—hadn't crossed her mind once while she was away. Pearl and little Beth left a few days later. Beth was so distraught at leaving Tink so soon after getting her back that she was only assuaged by Tink gifting her a locket with a curl of her own hair inside, then going with her all the way to the station and waving from the platform until the train was well out of sight. Though Tink's uplifted heart noticeably boosted the moods of her friends for the next several days, their shared delight was soon overshadowed by the announcement of Operation Overlord. Some internalized the news better than others, but they all understood the same that this was really it. They'd be seeing real warfare in a matter of weeks, and it didn't matter all that much how prepared they were—no one could know just what lay ahead.

Over the course of the month, their training was increased, bolstered, and specified. Easy Company and the Mechorps saw each other less and less; on the days their schedules aligned to share a lunch hour in the mess hall, they dragged out that time as long as they feasibly could without making trouble. Though everything seemed a bit more solemn, they still found their ways to have fun, and not everything felt serious—at least, not until the mutiny. Those two days were tense beyond belief. Men all throughout Easy camped out at Mrs. Witchetty's for a few hours, hiding from a vengeful Sobel and a furious Sink. By evening of the second day, still with no news from Regiment, at least half of the Company had cycled through, some more than once. Every single non-com involved in the mutiny had showed up, most of them in pairs; if Leslie found one of them crying from the stress in the upstairs bathroom, she never told.

Fortunately, the most stressful period of the entire Spring turned into the highlight of the season when the news broke that Captain Sobel would be transferred to a new jump school at Chilton Foliat, effective immediately. Two of Easy's sergeants had been demoted, and one of the same was borrowed out to the Pathfinders Division, but otherwise, the non-coms were released with no repercussions but a slap on the wrist. This stroke of luck took a great deal of weight off everyone's shoulders, and there was even a little bit of a party at Mrs. Witchetty's that night after supper. There was a general air of satisfaction, and Leslie was not the only one practically delirious with relief, not by a long shot. As soon as she found Don in the crowd, she kissed him square on the mouth, but she did it so quickly that he didn't have time to respond. She jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his torso, and as he held her up, he buried his face into her neck, hoping she would hear his laughter and miss the tears suddenly pricking at his eyes.

The following day, a Tuesday, dawned bright, clear, and warm, a nice change from a previously cloudy and cold week. Leslie and Kiko left the garage early and went into CP, nodding politely at a few officers in the Intelligence division as they crossed the hall into the lounge adjacent to Mama Eades' office. They settled into chairs by the phone on the wall, waiting to hear from Mrs. Witchetty, who'd gone into Swindon for a doctor's appointment and needed someone to come pick her up and drive her back to Aldbourne. The girls had volunteered, and though only one of them needed to go, it was such a nice day for a drive that Leslie wanted to take her motorbike and follow Kiko into town just to enjoy the sunshine. A few officers came and went throughout the next half-hour, exchanging small talk and cigarettes as they poured their morning coffee. The only ones to pay any mind to the girls by the office door were Lieutenants Winters and Speirs, who each greeted them with a nod and returned their genial salutes. Just after 10:00 that morning, a familiar face from Easy popped in just as Leslie started on her third mooched cup of coffee.

"Hey, Sparky, you hear the news?"

Both Leslie and Lieutenant Speirs looked up, then at each other. Noting the shared nickname, they exchanged a slight smile—Huh.—then turned back to Skinny Sisk, who Leslie was just now noticing seemed unusually jittery.

"Sergeant Sheppard," the private corrected, turning a little red in the face at the thought of calling an officer such a friendly nickname. "Have you heard the news?"

"What news?" Leslie asked, chewing on the end of her pencil as she squinted at the newspaper on her knee (she'd never been much good at crosswords).

"We're moving out."

"We're moving out," Leslie mumbled absentmindedly, then bolted upright, her pencil pitching to the floor and her elbow nearly sending her coffee to the same fate.

"We're moving out?!"

Kiko rose from where she'd been sitting by the phone, amazement and curiosity creasing her brow.

"When?" she gasped.

"Yeah, when?" Leslie echoed.

Speirs gestured with his coffee at both women.

"What they said."

Sisk told them what he knew, sprinkling in a few 'sirs' just in case. He said that their drop zone would be in France but he didn't know where exactly, that there would be a lecture about it tomorrow morning for all of the 506th, and that they'd be leaving for some airfield further south by the end of the week. When Leslie asked if "all of the 506th" included the Mechorps, too, Sisk could only shrug. Speirs supposed it was likely, and as Leslie turned over the new information in her head, he turned to Sisk and sent him to deliver the news to the rest of Easy. The lieutenant himself went to inform Dog Company, and Kiko started after him, but she'd barely gotten a foot out the door when the phone rang. Kiko looked between it and Leslie, torn, and Leslie shook her head, darting past her friend to catch the door before it shut.

"You handle that. I'll go tell her."

As Kiko backtracked to the phone, Leslie jumped back inside, realizing she'd forgotten her jacket and cap, then hightailed it out the door as Kiko cupped the receiver to her ear.

"Hello? Yes, Mrs. Witchetty, it's Kelani- No, Mrs. Witchetty, I can hear you just fine-"

Leslie burst into the garage like a hurricane was on her heels and nearly ran right into Danny Huff. At the commotion, Tink and Eli Shackley looked up from the project they had splayed across their workbench. Tink wore a bandana to keep her hair back and thick sautering gloves on her hands; as she tilted her head inquisitively at Leslie, she moved to wipe sweat off her forehead and smeared a bit of grease there instead.

"Where's the fire?" she teased, but her smile quickly fell when she saw how wide her friend's eyes had gone and how her chest heaved from a greater pressure than the exertion of her brief run.

"France," Leslie panted in reply, "in France."

The whole room went quiet. Danny, Eli, Sal McDermot, and seven or eight others looked over at Leslie with bated breath. Even Kent Hudley, who had steered clear of the girls since the misunderstanding at the bar, couldn't help but poke his head up and listen in.

"It sure is France," declared Captain Eades as she came in the side door, dropping her keys into her upturned cap and tossing them as one onto her desk as she broke the silence. "I sure hope you lot like baguettes."

That next morning, Don arrived at Mrs. Witchetty's before the sun had finished cresting the horizon. He wedged himself between two hedges to get around the side of the house and threw pebbles at Leslie's window until she let him in. In the two hours before he had to get back to the base for the start of the day's training, they sat on the carpet in the upstairs sitting room and made a bundle of letters for their families. Nibbling on Mrs. Witchetty's heavenly lemon biscuits as they wrote and arranged, they included well-wishing notes from their friends, several paper boats made by Leslie (flattened to fit into an envelope), a few British pence and bottlecaps from British beers as souvenirs for their younger siblings, and two photographs. The first image featured the two of them plus Skip and Penkala, standing on the road that led up to the Aldbourne base, and the other of Leslie, Tink, and Kiko, standing on the front steps of Mrs. Witchetty's. Leslie pressed a kiss to the envelope once they'd sealed it, then had Don do the same. She went alone to the post office in town but passed by Easy Company on their morning run on her return route and waved to her friends, laughing as they cheered for and whistled at her mere existence.

That afternoon, training was canceled for all the enlisted men and women in order for the officers throughout the 101st to use the time for a long meeting. Accordingly, Leslie, Skip, Tink, and George spent the afternoon making gingerbread cookies for the entirety of Easy. Mrs. Witchetty had read in a newspaper column that there was going to be a shortage of molasses, but as it turned out, the report had been entirely incorrect; there was to be a shortage of mustard seed instead (whoever wrote the column seemed to have gotten their grocery list 'M's mixed up). Unfortunately, Mrs. Witchetty had already panicked and bought an exorbitant excess of baking ingredients, which was where Leslie and her friends came in. Don, who'd come along with Skip and George, was suffering a biting headache and had taken to petsitting upstairs while he waited for it to pass. In the kitchen, however, things were not going quite so easily.

"What's this for?" Skip asked, holding up the mixer, and Leslie, tying a floral apron around her waist, looked at him funny.

"To... mix things."

"And this?" chimed in Tink, waving a thin whisk around.

"It's a whisk."

"Okay...?" Tink twirled it again as if Leslie hasn't answered her question at all.

"And you... whisk with it."

"What about this?" Skip poked himself with the cake tester and winced. "Ow."

Leslie slowed down from where she stood whisking some of the dry ingredients and looked over at her friends.

"I feel like I should help you two," she said without moving to do anything. With a sigh, she turned and looked at George on her other side to see how she was doing, and discovered he was, miraculously, cracking eggs one-handed into a bowl with the rest of the wet ingredients laid out before him.

"George!"

"Hmm?" He looked up, tossing the eggshells into the trash bin as he went to the sink to wash his hands. "What?"

"Since when do you bake?" Skip asked, leaning around Tink to eye their friend.

"Since I was a kid," George answered with a shrug, drying his hands on a linen towel heavily embroidered with figs. "Why?"

"Have I ever told you how amazing you are?" Leslie exclaimed gratefully, grabbing his arm and dragging him over to where Tink and Skip were trying to figure out all of their tools. "I'm putting you in charge over here."

"You're the boss."

As George tried to combat the chaos of their baffled friends, Leslie grabbed the cinnamon and returned to her dry ingredients bowl. Less than a minute had passed before Don wandered into the kitchen to see how things were going with Meatball lounging and Socket trotting curiously after, her whiskers wiggling as she sniffed the air.

"What's going on in here?" he asked, quirking his head at George teaching Skip and Tink how to operate simple baking machinery, then grinned at Leslie's floral apron. "You look nice."

She snorted, squinting into the mortar in which she was grinding cloves with a pestle.

"I look like my Granny."

"Nah." Don chuckled, then paused. "Well..."

"Oh, hardy-har-har."

"Put some flour in your hair, and maybe."

"You silly." She stuck her tongue out at him just to make him laugh. "And to answer your question, about what's going on in here?"

She caught the handle of the whisk just before it would have slipped down the metal sides of the bowl and sent up a cloud of flour, sugar, baking soda, and various spices.

"Havoc."

"Sounds like my idea of fun," Don decided, setting Meatball down on the couch before he came around the counter, grabbed an apron from the hook by the oven, and went to wash his hands. "How can I help?"

Relieved, Leslie dusted her flour-spotted palms on her apron, then leaned on Don's shoulder, wrapping her hands around his arm and giving a gentle squeeze.

"What would I ever do without you?" she sighed, and he pointed at their friends right as Skip turned the mixer up to the highest setting.

"Have to explain to Mrs. Witchetty why it looks like her kitchen went through the apocalypse!" Don replied, raising his voice about the noise, and Leslie stifled her giggled against his sleeve.

"But really," he added once George had unplugged the mixer and Don himself had recovered from the sudden tidal wave of fondness he felt toward Leslie, "what can I do to make this run a little more smoothly?"

Don had baked a dozen or so times with Leslie over the years, so he knew the ropes well enough to get the gist of things without much direction.

Leslie situated him right next to her at George's abandoned wet ingredients station, and he got right to work. Their elbows kept bumping as they mixed and reached for ingredients, and every time, they'd look at each other and laugh with cheeks just a little bit pinker than usual. Meanwhile, George managed to corral Skip and Tink by giving them the task of sorting through Mrs. Witchetty's extensive cookie cutter collection to find some good shapes.

"Well, shit," he said gamely as he came back around the counter. "Malark's taken my spot."

Don grinned and tossed his hair back a bit clumsily, unable to tuck it back with his fingers covered in batter.

"You know it."

"Don!" Leslie bumped her hip against his. "Be nice."

"S'alright," George chuckled, "this is a much nicer domestic picture."

He framed them with his thumbs and pointer fingers as if he was taking a photograph, and when Leslie and Don turned to look at one another, they were both surprised to discover the other blushing. Don glanced aside, flustered, only to notice Socket clawing at her namesake across the room. He rushed over to stop her, wiping his hands on his apron, and inadvertently gave up his place to George.

"Hah! Score!" George happily picked up where Don left off but made sure to mutter to Leslie out of the corner of his mouth, "I know I'm not quite as good company as darling Don there-"

She wrinkled up her nose and flicked batter at him, and a playful fight would have ensued had a grinning Tink not skidded up to George to show him a cog-shaped cookie cutter that she insisted must be used for all of the cookies.

"All of 'em?"

"All of 'em."

Knowing full well that George couldn't say no to Tink's smile, Leslie pressed her lips together to try and suppress a smirk and teased, "Kiss him and you'll get your wish."

Tink laughed. "I thought you had to rub the lamp!"

As Leslie turned aside to hide her laughter and George turned beet red, both of them hearing the accidental innuendo Tink had just made, Tink, oblivious, grabbed George's face and kissed him on the corner of his mouth. He melted, and Leslie didn't bother to hide her smirk any longer as she went to fetch the cookie sheets from the cabinet over the oven.

"Told you so."

The majority of the cookies did end up as cogs, save for a dozen that Skip managed to steal away for his own designs when Tink wasn't looking. He preferred the robin cookie cutter and used the cap of a pen to indent eyes into each bird. He might have gone on to find a way to texture the feathers had they not needed to get the cookies in the oven, and by then, a crowd was gathering outside. Leslie put Skip, Tink, and George in charge of distributing the cookies while she and Don finished baking the rest. Meatball and Socket slipped outside at one point, but they didn't go far, staying close to Tink as they eyed the crowd. By the end of the afternoon, the friends had managed to collect a sizeable donation without ever asking for the money. As they sat around the kitchen table, looking at the bucket of change without a clue what to do with it, Tink suddenly leaped to her feet, swinging her fist with the excitement of her idea.

"We'll ask Mrs. Witchetty! She bought all the ingredients, so in part, it's her money, too."

The group hastened into the living room and clustered around the old widow, who was knitting in her favorite armchair. She looked at their smiling faces and squinted through her glasses, thinking they were up to some mischief. Then they posed their question and her frown turned into a look of fond pride.

"Oh, you darlings," she hummed, wiping away a tear. "Give it to the Red Cross. They need it more than we do."

And that's precisely what they did. Leslie volunteered to deliver the donation, and Don was quick to join her. They took her motorcycle for the drive into Swindon and found the Red Cross outpost without much difficulty, as it was two doors down from the hospital.

"You know, Don," Leslie said, thumbing her belt loops as she and Don returned to the warm May evening, "I think we've done a good deed today. Good enough that we deserve dinner on the town—my treat. Don't you think so?"

Smiling, Don looped his arm around hers, and when she immediately tucked herself against his side, he pecked the side of her head in a kiss.

"You know, Les, I couldn't agree more."

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

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daybreak-academy-fanfic · 2 years

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Mega Man S: Chapter 9

Almost home again

Summary: In which Sora makes a choice that severely frustrates Over-1. Word Count: 1,915 First | Previous | Next ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆

Fleuve had told Sora to report to the nearest transerver once he had gotten the paopu fruit. The transerver was some kind of raised platform that was able to teleport people to and from certain areas. At least, some of them did. The transervers placed in their own little rooms could teleport you wherever. The rest only did simple communications to other transervers or specific people- like a public telephone. Sora was close to a transerver that could actually teleport you somewhere, so he went to that one.

He very carefully entered a code that Fleuve had given him into the transerver. There was a small beep to confirm the connection, then he heard a familiar voice.

“Sora!” Fleuve greeted. “It’s good to see you’re back in one piece. I’m sending you the coordinates to Guardian HQ now. Just enter the code and you’ll be transported there in no time. I’ll meet you on the other end.”

Not long after that, the coordinates came through. Sora didn’t waste any time entering them. It took a moment for the transerver to recognize the coordinates, then after it started to glow and envelope Sora is a green light. It all kinda felt like being pricked at by tiny needles. The feeling did not last long as Sora reappeared in a new location. He first noticed the window in front of him. Then he saw a cloud outside without a skyline to obstruct it. Letting out a gasp, Sora rushed over to the window and pressed his face against the glass.

He was flying.

Or, rather, wherever he ended up, they were airborne. A wide grin stretched across Sora’s face as he looked out over the landscape. He was pretty sure he could see Giro Express from here.

“Welcome to Guardian HQ.” Fleuve proudly proclaimed, succeeding in making Sora jump. The boy whacked his head against the window before turning his attention to Fleuve. A sheepish grin was etched onto his face that Fleuve didn’t seem to notice. “I suggest you make yourself a bit more presentable. We are going to visit the commander to review your first mission.”

“I’m ready.” Sora decided with a nod and a determined fist pump.

“Very well, then.” Fleuve nodded. He gestured for Sora to follow him, to which the boy didn’t think twice on.

Fleuve guided Sora out of the transerver room, up an elevator, and to the front of the ship. Sora was certain that the room Fleuve ushered him into was the bridge. While vastly different than the bridge of a Gummi Ship, he could still pick out the control panels and where the copilots sat. In the center of the bridge was a tall chair that must have belonged to the pilot- and by extension, the commander of the Guardians.

“Well done, Sora.” a new voice spoke up. It gave Sora a small start- it sounded so young. He was even more startled with the commander’s chair swiveled around to reveal the commander herself. Not looking much older than him or the twins, the Reploid girl was wearing a bright pink uniform. She brushed a strand of her golden yellow hair out of the way to better reveal her bright blue eyes. Sora gawked for a moment longer before getting his act together.

“Commander.” Sora greeted with a low bow.

She gave him a soft chuckle. “At ease,” she permitted. “You can call me Prairie. We’re all friends here.”

Sora stood straight up again. His face still remained serious. Meetings with Yen Sid had given him enough reminders that she deserved nothing less.

“Do you have the object that we asked you to retrieve from Mrs Bonne?” Prairie asked him.

“Sure do!” Sora agreed- easily breaking his serious facade. He pulled out the paopu fruit with a flourish. Prairie smiled.

“Excellent.” she said. “From what I understand, you know what it is?”

“Of course!” he grinned. “It’s native to my island.”

“Then I want you to keep it.” the commander informed him. “With all luck, it will be able to guide you back home.”

Sora’s eyes widened. “Really? Thanks Prairie!” And without any other warning, he rushed up to give her a tight hug. Prairie laughed a bit more before returning the gesture in kind.

. . .

Coming back to Giro Express after a day like this was like coming back home. He could probably even get to his dorm without needing an escort.

Almost.

His grumbling stomach demanded more attention though, so Sora made his way to the cafeteria. To his happy surprise, Giro, Juno, Aile, and Vent were already there. Vent was the first to notice that Sora had returned.

“Where were you all day?” the boy asked. He noticed the paopu fruit in Sora’s hands before going on to question, “And what’s that thing?”

Sora would have happily told him about his mission, but caught himself just in time. Instead he said as he took a seat, “Oh, just a special little errand. Nothing interesting.” He held up the paopu fruit before adding, “But I managed to find this!”

“What is it?” Vent once more questioned. At this point, they were all sitting around Sora to hear the story for this unknown fruit. It almost filled him with pride to be able to tell them about his home.

“This fruit grows on my island.” he happily told them. “We call it a paopu fruit. There’s a popular myth that if you share the fruit with someone you trust, then your destinies will be intertwined forever. Sometimes when our sailors go out to sea, they make charms out of local seashells to look like a paopu for good luck. It’s super important to our island.”

“Sounds like it.” Giro gently smiled.

“I’d share one with Vent.” Aile joked, poking him with her elbow. “He’s never gonna leave my side anyway. Are ya little bro?”

“You’re only five seconds older.” he grumbled as he pushed her away.

“No, I’m nine point thirty-six milliseconds older. And those milliseconds are the most important ones, I thank you.”

“Not important enough…”

Vent’s bitterness allowed a few peals of laughter from the others. Out of respect, they very quickly stopped teasing him to talk about other things. Sora kept thinking about the paopu fruit, though. His attention occasionally drifting to it before bringing his attention back to the others. A part of his heart told him to pull out his Keyblade and try to use the paopu as a gateway back home. The other part was tugging him to something different. It was a nagging kind of tug that only grew the longer the night went on. When it came time for them all to depart, Sora knew he couldn’t go to bed without doing this one thing. It was more important than going home. At least for now.

. . .

‘That child is a romantic.’

Girouette, who was absently nibbling on the end of his pen as he went over the next day’s deliveries, smiled.

“Seemed a bit more homesick to me.” he told Model Z. “I’ve come to recognize that look of longing he had when he talked about that fruit.”

‘And tell me; was constantly looking at you and Juno during his pauses also a sign of homesickness?’

“Now you’re just being cynical.”

Model Z huffed. Giro laughed at his friend’s expense before returning to the forms. When there was a sudden knock on his bedroom door, it succeeded in making him jump a good foot or two. His first thought was that it was Juno. He gave a soft smile before putting down his clipboard and pen on his desk, then walked over to the door. The sense of disappointment he had in finding that Juno was not there nearly shocked him.

Then he looked down and saw the paopu fruit. A small note had been attached to it, scribbled in a handwriting that looked like the writer was still learning the language. Curious, Giro bent down to pick up the paopu fruit. It honestly took him another good moment to read the note.

‘For you and Juno.’

A part of Giro’s artificial heart swelled at the gesture. It was the same feeling he always got when Aile or Vent prepared a present for him. At the same time, it just as easily quickened over how Juno would react to the gesture. He was sure she would accept. Despite not being the superstitious sort, she never could turn down the idea of a good promise. Least of all one that involved him.

‘I reiterate what I said earlier; a pure romantic.’

Girouette smiled before gently closing the door.

. . .

“He should have kept it.”

Namine gave Over-1 a nervous glance. It was easy to tell the Reploid was angered now. His arms were firmly crossed against his chest and his eyebrows kneaded into a deep furrow. It wasn’t like getting a paopu fruit to transcend a dimension was that hard- there was likely more energy in her and Over-1 sharing the same pocket of space than flitting an object or two over entirely. What Namine seemed to note above all else was that Over-1 had underestimated Sora’s natural kindness.

“You don’t know Sora.” she carefully told him. “He did what his heart told him to do. It would have been odder if he didn’t.”

“Tch. It was the closest key he had to home. He’s an idiot.”

Hearing that made something in Namine snap.

“Haven’t you ever known someone that you wanted to protect more than anything?” she demanded. “Sora gave the paopu fruit to Giro because he knows he wants to protect Juno. Sora believes in them. Trusts in them. He wants them to be happy. Don’t tell me you’ve never encountered anyone you trusted, and loved, and wanted to protect, but couldn’t directly protect so you let someone else do it!”

“You know nothing about Aero!” Over-1 shouted back. His voice almost made the white space around them quiver. “You know nothing about what it means to watch events than influence them directly! You know nothing about being able to change history, yet all your efforts come back to the same conclusion! You! Know! Nothing!”

For the first time since meeting Over-1, Namine no longer felt safe to be in his presence. She physically recoiled away from him- tears budding in the corner of her eyes.

“I-I’m sorry…” she whimpered. “I didn’t mean to snap, I…”

Over-1 continued to give Namine a hard glare before what he said caught up to him. He immediately felt disgusted by his own actions.

“No.” he then said, keeping his voice purposely low. “No, you’re right. I do have someone like that. I still mourn her.”

“I’m sorry…”

“You’re not the one that hurt her.”

Namine looked up at him. Her fear was still evident on her face, but there was a small measure of shock.

“But I overstepped.”

Over-1 shook his head.

“I was the one who overstepped.” he said to her. “My greatest mistake was falling in love with Aero. But she has her role in history. All her trials and hardships have to transpire in order for her to be there. I am powerless to even give her a shoulder of support, and it is my greatest regret.”

The Reploid sighed. He turned a weary gaze back to Namine before sighing, “Namine, I believe we all need therapy.”

Despite herself, Namine laughed.

#mega man s #kingdom hearts fanfiction #mega man fanfiction #chapter 9 #Sora #Fleuve #Prairie #Aile #Vent #Girouette #Model Z #Namine #Over-1

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dragonthewriter · 3 years

Text

Six Months Later

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34321180

Six Months. That’s how long it had been. Of course, that wasn’t how long it was supposed to take, Beast Boy had original said he was going to be gone “A month, month and a half at most. Just need to get in tune with my animal nature.” As puberty began to hit him, and rather late, he was starting to show signs of his animal sides taking more control, and even he had to admit it was making him a liability. So he headed off, taking his part of the T-ship.

Raven had kept in contact with him. All the Titans did, but Raven was the only one who did everyday. A trend noticed by everyone excluding the empath herself. Their nighttime chats had often run so long, Raven would wake up to her communicator still out and still on. The first few times, Raven would apologize the next time they spoke, only for Beast Boy to tell it was fine. He wasn’t about to tell her how cute it was to hear her yawn and snore softly.

He started by heading to Africa, where he was raised. He had stayed with the tribe his parents had befriended, and who had taken him after his parents died and before the Doom Patrol showed up. He would tell her stories of going on hunts with the other men in the tribe. Even with his vegan sensibilities, he understood it was their way of life, and could respect that they took great care in only hunting for what they needed. It was around this time, she noticed his voice cracking a bit.

After two weeks there, he moved on, traveling to every biome on the planet he could reach. The arctic, deep in the amazon rainforest, the arid desert. He would regale Raven with what forms he learned, what unique things he gleaned from his time in their shapes. As it felt he had crossed off every location on his list, he told he was planning on coming home. “Just a week with the Doom Patrol, and I’ll be back in Jump City.”

But things kept coming up. At the six week mark, Mento fell sick, and he wanted to be there until his adoptive father felt better. The disease took longer to overcome than expected, and in that time, the Brotherhood had made a move in France. With Mento still down, Beast Boy joined the Patrol in their mission. Most of their time was just playing recon, Beast Boy and Negative Man doing the work of trying to track down their enemy.

When he wasn’t flying over the city, he was keeping in touch, talking when he could, texting when he couldn’t. After two weeks, Raven awoke to one last message. “Found Base, Going dark. I’ll message you.” The three days before she heard anything felt like the longest in her life.

Then she got his call. At first, she didn’t recognize his voice, puberty definitely coming hard for the changeling. His voice has already gotten past the random breaking and was deeper. She heard him tell about how the Brotherhood were all back in prison but she wasn’t listening, focusing less on what he was saying and how he was saying it. His regular scrawny form did not match the voice he now spoke with.

A week after returning from France, Mento was given the all clear, and Beast Boy was sent to return home… Until the Titans East had a problem and needed back up. Since Midway City was closer to Steel City, Beast Boy made the journey.

A group of rather B-list villains had made trouble for the East team, and an extra Titan was enough to begin balancing the scales in their favor. Raven and Beast Boy’s nightly chats remained, now the empath hearing how he had stopped Johnny Rancid by himself, and other exploits she had to wonder how much he was embellishing.

A message she did get from Bumblebee gave Raven pause. ‘Are you dating Beast Boy?’ followed by ‘Does he have a girlfriend or is he fair game?’ Raven ended up assuming Bumblebee just wanted a rebound after her and Cyborg broke up due to distance, and her only other choices were a civilian, which always had problems, one of the twins, who were way too young, and Speedy and Aqualad, who were comfortably in a relationship with each other.

Raven did begin to suspect something though, when Kitten used her one phone call after Titans East arrested her to ask Raven if ‘it was open season on the green guy, or do I have to fight another one of you titans for the privilege?’

Once all villains were in prison, and Titans East released Beast Boy from their service, he was finally on his way home.

Until a storm hit his ship and he crashed just outside of Gotham. A quick phone call to his mentor, and Robin secured a place for Beast Boy to crash at Wayne manor, and the use of the Batcave to repair the T ship. Of course with the watchful eyes of Alfred using schematics from Cyborg to make sure he did everything properly.

Just a day shy of the six month mark, his ship was airborne and headed back to Jump. Raven decided to use the couple of hours of flight time to mediate before their reunion, figuring six months apart had lower her defenses to Beast Boy’s abrasive personality. On the phone was one thing, but in person was a whole different thing.

On her way, Robin stopped her, and said Alfred wanted to forward a message to her. “Tell Miss Raven that Master Garfield was quite eager to discuss her at length, and is quite fond of her. Also, if she enjoys tea as much as he says she does, I would love to have her try my own, as it would be nice to have a hero who actually appreciates it come by for a cup or two at some point.” Being the two more emotional stunted titans, neither truly grasped the message, focusing more on the tea portion.

—————————————

“Really,” Cyborg asked. “No more vegan?”

“No, i’m still preferring to stick to that diet, but there were times I didn’t have the luxury. When in rome and all that.”

“So you don’t want to join us at the next Bbq and…

“Friend Raven!”

Raven barely noticed Starfire call out her name. She had entered the common room to greet Beast Boy, but stopped when she saw him in-between Cyborg and Starfire. Half a year ago, he barely came up to Cybrog’s waist, but now he was just about as tall as Starfire. His body was much more filled out, as well. While he wouldn’t been at Superman level of muscle, he was far past the almost stick figure he had been when leaving.

And then there was the hair…

It was long, coming down past his jawline on the side of his face, the rest gathered into a ponytail behind his head. With the way his head had been turned, she couldn’t see his face, but when Starfire called out her name, he turned to her.

His eyes sparkled when he saw her. There were still that familiar shade of green, but something in them shined, and Raven noticed his pupils were more cat like.

Even his face was different. Baby fat cheeks had become chiseled features, and his snaggletooth fang had found a home inside his mouth. But when he smiled at the sight of her, she could see the fangs were only sharper and longer.

And framing either side of his face was that hair. Raven was already back on it, unable to get past seeing it like that.

“Come over, and say hi to the new Beast Boy,” Cyborg said, patting him on the back. Raven floated over to them, as Cyborg continued. “Notice anything different?”

Raven was never one for being at a loss for words. Even when she answered with silence, it was always clear to the listener, that it was planned. Yet here she was, unable to speak for a moment.

“You hair,” she muttered out, making Beast Boy blush.

“Wow, I’m like a foot and 3/4 taller and you notice my hair first?” He brought a hand up to his head. “Yeah I never had a chance to get it cut, but first thing in the morning…”

“Don’t!” Raven said too quickly for even her own obliviousness to overcome. Everyone was now staring at her, Beast Boy’s transformation forgotten for her reaction to it. “I mean, you shouldn’t. It looks nice like that.”

It seemed to make Beast Boy relax, but Cyborg and Starfire just gave her a look.

“Well, if you think it looks good, I’ll keep it,” he said, giving her another warm smile that made Raven feel a bit weak in the knees. She could hear the words relay to her by the Batman’s butler. ‘Quite fond of her.’ Raven saw his eyes sparkle once more.

‘Oh.’

‘OH.’

#bbrae #teen titans

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hollyhomburg · 4 years

Text

Of Fire And Love (Pt.5)

(Dragon! Yoongi x Human! Reader) (????? Jungkook, Dragon! Hoseok) (Sorcerer! Seokjin x Human! Taehyung) (Fairy! Jimin x Dragon! Namjoon)

Summary: When Dragon Yoongi finds baby Jungkook in the wreckage of a house he burned down, he can’t bring himself to kill the child. Months after someone drops a baby at your door, you start to notice something- or someone, lurking at the edge of the woods.

Pairings: Dragon! Yoongi x Human! Reader, ????? Jungkook, Dragon! Hoseok, Sorcerer! Seokjin x Human! Taehyung,

W/c: 18.6k

Warnings/Tags: visceral violent death scenes, gore, blood, near character death, morbid, violence, referenced parental death, familial fluff, touch starved characters, brief smut, discussions of Aging/mortality, mentions of War, Namgi have a Lil fight in this,

Song rec: Agust D- Burn it,

A/N: well here it is! the big reveal! I will be posting a short thing probably explaining the end of this and the backstory of the Seokjins family a little more as well as a collection of all of the bits that foreshadowed the ending of this chapter! This is the second to last part! and the next part will probably be just as long as this and won’t be posted for a little while.

Series Masterlist

- Yoongi is flying back when it happens and almost falters. Dipping in the air as the wind goes out from underneath his wings and a stabbing pain lights just underneath his heart. After being with his mate for so long it almost feels like he’s the one who was hurt not you.

- It only knocks him out of the sky for a second before he’s righting himself in the air. And the panic takes hold- suddenly sure that something is wrong- terribly earth tilting wrong. He summons all the strength he has in him and hurls himself through the sky as quick as he can. Yoongi has never flown faster in his life.

- Jungkook is only a kid, he can’t keep you alive. You’d only just begun to teach him how to heal. Even as Hoseok shifts back to human form- the attacker who stabbed you quickly dispatched by his teeth. Somehow Jungkook’s red scarf ends up pressed to your wound, pressing down on it with all of his weight.

- “That’s good Koo- just like that.” you gently instruct. You’re barely alive by the time that Yoongi gets back, your breathing heavy and labored. Though Jungkook has bound around the wound, you’re half-conscious. Yoongi swoops in, shifting just in time to hurl himself through the front door cracking part of the frame with his shoulders.

- He’s steely, even as his hands shake when he touches your pale face. You pass out with Yoongi’s name on your tongue- staying awake just long enough to see that he’s here, that your children have him to protect them, before a tidal wave of pain pulls you under. Yoongi takes one look around at the house, the dead men- feeling horror well up in him. Their place of safety, of softness and love, violated like this.

- He can hear and smell the ones that remain in the woods, the sluggish pull of their heartbeats as they die. And he knows the hairs on the backs of their necks are standing up as his anger grows. His fingers are black-tipped claws by his side- unable to resist the semi-shift- aching to sink into the rage that demands the world to sate it. Yoongi cannot and will not let this go unpunished.

- But you’re still there dying on the floor, and the choice is easy. (When it comes down to it- Yoongi will always choose you) For you Yoongi will easily surrender this revenge. Somewhere in the house Yoongi smells fire. But he doesn’t care burn it all to the ground. Every happy memory with it too- everything. If it all ends like this- Yoongi can’t bear it.

- But he needs too- for the two small faces that he loves more than anything in the world- looking at him like he holds all the answers. Hoseok’s face is wet with tears and blood when he tilts his face up, blinking them away furiously. His voice shakes when he instructs them. “Jungkook I’m going to shift and then you and Hobi are going to put her on my back and fly with me” he touches Jungkook’s arm and Jungkook turns his tear-filled eyes to his father

- “I need you to be strong fledgling, I need you to hold her there and make sure she doesn’t fall off when we fly because tying her in will take too much time.” Yoongi touches Hoseok’s face- wiping away the blood on his mouth with a thumb. “Hoseok- this will be a long flight so keep up just above me so I can break the wind for you.”

- “If you can’t I’m going to-“ Hoseok squares his little shoulders, he’s only 15- and yet he meets Yoongi’s gaze, his resolve steely as he pushes himself up, nodding. “if I lose you don’t worry I’ll catch up. I can follow your scent. If I fall back keep going.”

- Yoongi had never imagined- that the trauma he’d been through as a child could have affected him in this way but Hoseok is steady as a rock in a stream. Pride wells up in him- smothered by the panic.

- They fly through the rain and all through the night, Jungkook clenches Yoongi’s back with his thighs and keeps you on his back, putting as much pressure on your wound as he can with his arms around your waist.

- Hoseok is so exhausted and barely managing to stay airborne in his little red dragon form, dipping with every strong gust of wind. His ears are better at hearing now than when he’s in human form. And He listens for every ragged breath- every uneven thudding heartbeat of yours that slows with the passing hours. like a timer counting down the moments until everything will have been for naught. Hoseok pushes himself harder, his aching wings protesting with each flap.

- Jungkook’s thighs and front are stained with your blood, and it makes Yoongi’s scaly back slippery and hard to grip with his trembling thighs, especially when the rain starts up. The terror keeps Jungkook awake and sheer will power keeps his muscles from giving out.

- Back at your manor house a hush settles over the woods, the men deep in the belly of your castle. As they raid Yoongi’s hoard- the minor blaze in the house put out. They’re merry at the prospect of so much gold but yet subdued at the men they lost today. their lives a small price to pay for the fortune that would make them as good as princes in their country.

- How selfish dragon kind where for hogging all of this wealth- not only did they have control of all of the fertile land in the world- but they also had 90% of the world’s gold. The least they can do is share. They raid Yoongi’s wine stores too. filling golden chalices with the dark red liquid.

- A hush settles over the woods as the mist starts to gather- but the calm won’t be there- not for long. They’re so drunk- they don’t realize the way that it sinks in through the windows with gentle clawed fingers, creeping in through the hallways and down to the belly of the manor house. a mist thicker than any you could cut. They only have a few moments- their drunken and gold-hungry gaze focusing on the house- full of mist- before they hear it- a brief humming of fairy wings.

- Jimin hits them with a savage stab- the flowers growing through one of their chests with a savage crack- roots splitting his sternum with a burst of red flowers. The roots sprouting around the edge of Jimin’s knife. Gone are the usual delicate features from the fairy, his face almost more horrifying than the sight of their dead comrade falling to the floor. The chrysanthemums blooming in his eyes, mushrooms budding along his spine, decomposing before their very eyes.

- What once was Jimin's cheekbones is now webbed black- his muscles sunken in and woven like a spider, his fangs hooked and buglike. His eyes glowing a horrifying red. His hands have more fingers than seem possible- more like a spider than a human. He dispatches the rest of them easily, leaving only one, pressing him close up against a wall. The man pisses himself, feeling the vines constrict around his whole body- but not killing him- not yet.

- Jimin voice is a low croon as he drags his knife down his cheek, “now- would you like to tell me what you’ve done with my family? Or should I let my flowers do their job?” a massive head sinks out of the fog, claws clicking on the marble floors, his fangs long- blue fire leering deep in Namjoon’s mouth as he opens his mouth- the man lets out a whimper.

- He falls away like petals in the wind when Jimin wills it. Wiping his knife of the blood on his thigh and sheathing it in a simple movement. He’s thinking about seeing Seokjin again after all these years. If you’d really been as injured as they said you where- if they’d really seen Yoongi fly away with you, Jungkook and Hobi in toe- then Seokjin’s is the only place you could be heading too. All at once- the spider face gone with Jimin’s rage. He hadn’t thought- only smelled your blood in the woods and acted.

- Namjoon nudges the edge of one of the men the flowers wilting as he dies. There isn’t a hit of remorse in his face. They’d found the puddle of your blood in the entryway after all. “You know this is sort of like Instant compost.”

- Jimin snorts shoving at his head lovingly. “You’re terrible” but he keeps his fingers tangled in his dragon's hair. “Let's get out of here” but before he leaves. He nudges one of them again, and a scroll falls out of their pocket, Namjoon stoops to pick it up. Eyes widening when he reads the first line.

- “We need to call the council- this can’t wait.”

- It’s early morning the next day when Yoongi finally touches down at the one person who could save you from the brink of death- Seokjin.

- No one is quite sure how old Yoongi is. But the last sorcerer left in the world is definitely older. The two are old friends even if it’s been more than a decade since they saw each other. But then again, Seokjin doesn’t really process time the way a normal person does- at least not when it comes to friendship.

- So it doesn’t feel like a reunion after a long time when Yoongi crashes down in the lawn in front of Seokjin’s castle. It feels more like a friend that’s popped in for tea at an unbecoming hour. But Yoongi’s never been good with manners and at the age he is, Seokjin can’t really expect him to change.

- It’s more clumsily then he’s ever seen him land. He even rips up the sod too- a great big skid mark all across Seokjin’s grass. Oh well, at least he hadn’t trashed the garden that Seokjin had looked after for the better part of the last millennia. He only slightly disturbs his morning coffee on his patio. Seokjin barely lifts an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of his friend.

- After all- Seokjin had felt him coming. Seokjin knows (almost) everything.

- The thing that does surprise him however, is the shouting- Jungkook slides off his back with you barely supported in his arms. That certainly surprises him a great deal. The way the youth sobs and looks at Yoongi- chanting “dad- dad please-“ Yoongi shifts to carry you. Scooping you up from the boy who looks half way to passing out. A smaller red dragon with fluffy feathers lands sloppily, crabbing to the left at the last moment and crashing into a cypress tree and nearly snapping it in half.

- He gives a muted grumble to let everyone know he’s fine- just tired, even as he drags himself over to the group his tail dragging. Yoongi and Jungkook carry you in a panicked dash. Hoseok following Too tired to shift back to human but running next to them. That has Seokjin straightening up, getting out of his chair, his teacup clattering the floor in a crash, running over to meet them. Seokjin helps Yoongi with your weight- “Please save her Jin- I can’t live without her.”

- Seokjin’s hands touch your abdomen with purpose, coming away red, your blood cold. “Yoongi she’s bare-“

- “Jin” Yoongi’s voice breaks, his lower lip quivering, every muscle in his body holding you gently, as close as he can without hurting you. Anything to keep you close for a few more moments. Jin doesn’t pause, doesn’t ask. He just rushes the four of you inside the small castle to his study.

- The glass double doors blow open from an unseen force before they enter- tables and chairs and books flying this way and that clearing their path. The crowded table clears with a flick of his wrist too. A hidden force sending everything flying back onto its proper place on the shelf. If he weren’t so terrified Jungkook would find it in himself to be awed- but as it is; all he can feel is scared.

- Yoongi lays you as gently as he can on the table- your head lolling. Seokjin starts spitting words in a frantic language, his hands glowing a soft violet color as Yoongi tears at your dress- opening it up around the wound.

- This is different than Jimin's plant magic, the wordless sort of magic that has the world leaning in- no- Seokjin’s magic makes the world stop in place and turn around him. Every inch of intent spoken by his mouth an order that reality will bow too. It’s jaw-dropping to see,

- Jungkook stands by the door until Hobi pulls him out of it, teeth ripping into the back of his shirt as he moves Jungkook like a mother cat would a kitten. He’s a good older brother- and he doesn’t think that you’d want either of them to see this. Especially when Seokjin starts to undress you- with only a medical like air in mind his movements quick and efficient meant to expose more of the wound.

- It takes Jin almost another full day to heal you to the best of his abilities and even then the rest is up to you. Seokjin works through the night and through all of it, Yoongi sits by your bedside, his forehead pressed to yours through the entire healing process. Offering his strength when Seokjin needs it. A hand on his shoulders sometimes, not to offer to comfort but to take Yoongi’s energy- his lifeblood- because alone Seokjin doesn’t have enough power for this.

- Seokjin’s drains the energy out of him to the point where he fears taking anymore. Yoongi slumped next to you, keeping himself in the chair by sheer force of will, whispering into your ear your cheeks start to pink up again slowly, your breath coming infrequently- but in time with the pulse of Seokjin’s magic.

- “Don’t you dare go on me yet Y/n, I haven’t had nearly enough time with you, not by a long shot” he holds your hand- he only ever wanted to do that- to hold your hands for the rest of time. However much time he had with you- he had always thought that would be enough- but now he realizes it isn’t. He’d never get enough time with you, not if you were by his side for 100 or 500 years.

- You never get enough time with the ones you love. Whether you’re immortal or mortal, no stretch of time is adequate. Even if you’re both there to witness the death of the cosmos and all else that lingers. Yoongi wants more- he needs more time with you.

- Both of your sons sit outside the room, Jungkook listing into Hobi once he gets too tired to stay awake. “I’ll wake you if there’s any news Kookie” And even though Hobi’s tired from flying he just can’t close his eyes until he knows if he’s lost his mom again.

- Jungkook dozes, and Hoseok picks a spot on the tapestry that hangs on the opposite wall and doesn’t look away. Jungkook lying across his lap- one of Hoseok’s hands embedded deep in his chocolate locks. Holding onto him like he’s worried Jungkook is going to slip away too.

- “I killed someone Hobi- I- I killed someone,” he says, late into the afternoon when the orange light seeps through the window at the end of the hall. Hoseok blinks as he looks down at Jungkook- he hadn’t realized the younger had woken. A Geometric shape of orange light falls across Jungkook’s Face. His cheekbones suddenly present- all that made him baby faced fallen away in a single day, the bags under his eyes hallow bruises.

- The way Jungkook says it- he says it like it means something. Like it Wasn’t just an act of desperation and an act of trying to live. To keep going. Hoseok has to fight to keep his voice steady. “Do you hate me?” his hand fists in the front of Jungkook’s shirt over his heart. Covering a tiny fleck of blood with his closed fist. “I killed people too Jungkook, do you hate me?”

- Hoseok realizes with a start- that he’s killed more people than Jungkook- and can’t navigate his way back through the terror of the last few hours to count how many men had fallen under his tooth and claw. Hoseok tells himself that they had too- and believes it. After all- if they hadn’t it would mean the three of you lying dead on the floor of your entryway.

- Hoseok doesn’t want to think about what Yoongi would have done if he’d come home to that. He doesn’t think that his father’s rage would have been sated by the whole world on fire. He lets himself imagine it for a moment. The human world- swallowed in flames, everything burning. Jungkook reaches up and rubs away at the smoke curling over Hoseok’s chin, a juvenile imitation of rage- of the fire that Hoseok isn’t capable of yet. “Do you hate me Jungkook?”

- Jungkook looks stricken with the very idea of it, he laces his hand with Hoseok’s over his heart and curls up around him so that Jungkook can press his face into Hoseok’s side. Hiding his face and his tears as he fights to stay calm- not to break all over his soulmates lap- even if he’s been breaking since he put his sword through that man in your home hours ago.

- “I could never hate you Hobi.”

- Hoseok wishes he could feel more like Jungkook but he doesn’t. Sure he’s afraid, but the terror hovers below a steely calm that he can’t think through. He’s lost his mom before, and he can’t lose you too, doesn’t want to lose his mom again. But he won’t fall apart until he knows. Because If he fell apart again- he’s not sure that even Jungkook could bring him back.

- It takes until the next evening for the trauma-induced calm to end. Jungkook next to him asleep again, but Hoseok hasn’t managed to close his eyes. And when he does for only a few minutes, images of you lie behind his eyelids.

- The countless times you’d brushed through his feathers or ruffled his hair, how you’d excitedly congratulated him and Jungkook with every little bit of things they’d brought home. The cross look on your face, hands on your hips, whenever they came home more bruised and battered than usual. All of that gone in a day-

- A memory from when he would wake as a child in your mountain home is what makes Hoseok fall apart. the first time he’d ever woken up feeling safe after his parents died. Jungkook asleep beside him, to the sound of your soft humming as you hovered over the stove, Yoongi’s dark wing shielding Jungkook and Hoseok from the light of morning.

- But when Hobi had looked, he’d found Yoongi’s neck stretched out so that he could lay it down next to you while you worked. And whenever you’d finish with a task you’d reach over to scratch up and down his cheek. And Hoseok could feel the pleasant shiver and happiness all around him.

- He remembers making a noise, and you turn to him. your hair falling all around your face free from the braid you usually bound it in when you slept. Hushing him softly, ‘you can go back to sleep okay? Breakfast will be done in a moment little-honey’

- It’s when the memories hit him that He starts to cry, to hyperventilate. He keeps clutching Jungkook’s hand the whole time. When Jungkook wakes they hold onto each other. The younger pulling him in and reversing their positions. Strengthening the moment Hoseok needs him. And Hoseok’s world narrows down to just Jungkook.

- Finally, just after sunrise, Seokjin pokes his head out of the study and Hobi straightens up. He’s already magiced the table into a bed- and he’s left Yoongi curled up around you sleeping soundly- a quick calming spell to let his friend recuperate after the last day- Seokjin is sure he would have fallen asleep if he hadn’t put that spell on him. They’ll move you to an actual bed when yoongi wakes.

- At the sound of the door opening Jungkook jerks barely catching himself before he crashes into the floor, blinks owlishly at the sudden movement. Seokjin’s greeting dying in his throat. Truthfully, Seokjin doesn’t remember being that young and it’s kind of strange. To be confronted with such youth after almost a full year on his own with no-one to talk too.

- They spill over themselves in an effort to get in the room “is she okay- is mom gonna live is she gonna-“ suddenly Seokjin finds himself inundated with two very concerned teenagers, clutching at the edge of his dark purple dressing-gown- he hadn’t even bothered to change from his pajamas. “I’ve healed her wounds- but the rest is up to her” both of them sigh and then- none to surprisingly, burst into tears and cling to Seokjin who awkwardly pats them on the back.

- Jesus Christ- they haven’t even told him their names yet and already they’re tripping over themselves to thank him. “Can we see her and dad?” Seokjin sighs heavily, “I think it’s probably better to give them some space, your father and mother need to rest- why don’t you come with me so we can fix some food for you? And also do some introducing- your parents really didn’t teach you any manners did they? Luckily I’m good at that.” Because if there’s one thing that's better than a spell at fixing sorrow, then its food.

- Seokjin starts jauntily down the hallway as Hoseok and Jungkook shoot each other a confused glance, suddenly both dubious and a little terrified by the sorcerer “Well come on- out with it what are your names little menaces?”

- When you wake, almost a full week after the attack, Yoongi is sat by your bedside holding your hand looking haggard and unkempt. He’s hardly moved all this time. Only changed and washed up because Seokjin had bothered him too- and left Hobi and Jungkook to watch over you for a moment, or to tuck the boys in and made sure they’ve eaten something. they’ve been so grown up the last few days. after the first day when-

- a tangled mess of both of them in the bed, both of them woken to yoongi coming into their room, wetness on his cheeks, touching their soft heads as he cried- thanking the gods and all the goodness in the world that they hadn’t been hurt too. Hoseok blinking awake, whispering “dad?” into the open air which had made Yoongi break- his chest heaving.

- And Hoseok- little Hoseok- knowing to reach up to wrap his arms around his father because that’s what he needed. To scent-mark his children and make sure they knew he was there- that he wouldn't be leaving. Jungkook has always been a deep sleeper hadn’t even woken.

- but Hoseok had pushed at yoongi after a moment. “go- I know you want to sit next to mom. it’s okay, I’ll make sure Jungkook and I eat after he wakes up- you don't have to worry about us I'll- I’ll make sure we’re doing what she’d want us to be doing.”

- like washing their clothes and making sure they bathed and detangled their hair and made their beds in the morning. But also- that they were looking after each other too. making sure neither of them felt alone or uncared for- for too long. in all your years parenting- you’ve always emphasized being there for each other- and Hoseok and Jungkook won’t let you down now. they’re amazing in Yoongi’s eyes. Already grown up enough to understand that yoongi is as in need of as much comfort as they are.

- And In all your time raising Jungkook and Hoseok together you have never seen Yoongi cry. But when you open your eyes and peer up at him Yoongi bursts into tears. looking tired but alive with a lingering ache in your stomach that seems to hold you down to the plush bed with a vengeance. His long fingers touching your cheeks, pulling himself closer to you.

- Yoongi sobs out your name, pressing his forehead against yours when you whisper out his name, your hands weekly coming up to grab onto him- you’re so tired- so weak and uncoordinated but still- you can’t bear to have him even an inch from you. “I was so scared my love, but now you’re safe and healing. Thank the gods you’re alive.”

- “I’m not a god but thanks for the high praise,” says a stranger from the door, his black hair shot through with silver streaks. His endlessly mirthful purple eyes haunting in the half-light of the bedroom. The stranger wipes his hands off with a cloth. But the glowing stone- set into the space just above his collar bones, glowing a light purple under a thin layer of skin, tell you enough about who this must be.

- He does smile kindly, and you can already see his appraising eyes measuring your condition. “I’m Seokjin- I’m the person who saved your life” you give a weak smile in return. “Yoongi’s told me all about you and though I’d prefer it if we hadn’t met this way I’m eternally thankful. Thank you Seokjin, for allowing me to stay with my family.”

- You turn to Yoongi, even now he can see how exhausted you are, “how are you feeling- do you want some water- some food my darling?” You’re about to say no, that you only want to go back to sleep when you jolt up. Your parental instincts cut through your haze and a bone-chilling panic suddenly seizing you.

- Yoongi’s hands on both your shoulders to keep you in the bed- “oh my god the kids- are they alright are they-“ Jungkook and Hoseok peer out from behind Seokjin’s back, looking scared and restraining themselves from coming too close. But very much alive and uninjured. They hover until Yoongi gestures that it’s okay for them to come closer- that they won’t hurt you.

- Both Hoseok and Jungkook immediately start crying and hurl themselves onto your bed. Hobi gets so distressed that he actually shifts and starts scent marking you like a cat. One of his legs wiping out to push Seokjin away unintentionally. He is a little big now- it feels more like an extraordinarily large puppy has taken up half the space in your bed.

- “Hey! Rude!” Seokjin shouts but lets himself be moved. The big bed creaks and sags as Hoseok sets himself firmly over the top portion of it. His warm underbelly curled around your head, his feathers tickling your face as he nuzzles in close, gently and slowly. Jungkook settles on your side, his hands locked in a death grip around your shoulders you weekly bring up a hand to card it through his hair.

- “Boys! Be careful of her side! She’s still healing.” But you give him a look over Jungkook’s shoulder, a little teary-eyed yourself but smiling- the smile that Yoongi would die for would tear apart the world for.

- “Yoongi told me how brave the two of you were flying all this way to help me Hobi, and keeping me on his back Kookie. I’m so proud of both of you.” Jungkook lets himself pull back a little “Really?”

- “Yes! you were so so brave!” you even scratch a little under Hobi’s chin, and he lets out a little content dragon noise and snuggles closer. Jungkook lets out his first even breath in days. Hoseok too- both of them crying those easy tears of relief in your arms. “You’re so brave boys, It’s okay- I’m okay now- you don’t have to be scared anymore.”

- As he listens to you reassure your children and for the first time, Yoongi notices the smile lines by your mouth, a single grey hair starting to glitter along your hairline. The signs of aging that he never noticed before, and goes quiet, suddenly still.

- “Thank you” your eyes are tear-filled as you look up at Seokjin, your hands brushing over both your son's heads, so slow and lingering. like you thought you’d never get the chance to do it again- or had, and now were pausing to savor every moment. “Really Seokjin- I can’t thank you enough- I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

-Seokjin looks bashful, a stiff blush climbing from the back of his neck. And he’s stuttering when he talks- “it’s really not my doing- not most of it anyway- I mean- healing you was my doing but you never would have survived if it hadn’t been for this.”

- Seokjin fingers the cloth in his hands, darker red now than it was before. The four of you straighten up, suddenly confused. Jungkook lifts his head from your shoulder, looking perplexed, “My scarf? My scarf saved her?” Jungkook asks,

- “Not the scarf- but the protection charm on it” Seokjin fingers the edge of it- which hasn’t frayed in all this time. How had you never realized it? over 13 years old and still it’s never lost its color. “It’s old magic- the kind of magic I haven’t seen in a long time. It will protect whatever it covers from harm. And in your case it kept your organs from shutting down before you got here. If it hadn’t been for this wrapped around your waist you would have died in minutes not hours.”

- Seokjin looks at Yoongi, his lower lip quivering suddenly looking betrayed. “You- you should have told me- if you’d seen my sister you should have told me it’s been hundreds of years Yoongi- you know how much I want to see my family so- how could you.”

- “I didn’t- Seokjin I didn’t see her- the scarf was with Jungkook when I found him.” Jungkook looks up abruptly from the bed; Hoseok cocks his head in curiosity. “When you found me?” Jungkook looks surprised for a second before he straightens up. “No- I knew that I knew that I wasn’t yours- but- I always thought- the scarf was the first thing you gave me- that’s why it was so special.”

- Hoseok’s shifts shaking his head his curls bouncing. leaning up against the headboard pulling Jungkook up to sit with him. Until the three of you are sitting up. “I didn’t know- I always thought-“ Hoseok looks at you, and you shake your head. “Then if you’re not- where are Jungkook’s biological-“

- Yoongi puts his head in his hands, leaning up against the edge of your bed. gritting his teeth, “Now isn’t the time for that conversation.” Yoongi isn’t ready and won’t ever be ready for Jungkook to hate him.

- Hoseok has gotten better at smelling emotions through his sensitive nose- and whips his head around at the acrid scent of Yoongi’s displeasure- taking it wrong. “Then when will be the right time?” how Hoseok had managed to inherit your stubbornness but only ever decides to use it when Jungkook is concerned- Yoongi will never know.

- “Yoongi” Seokjin brings his focus back to him. You straighten up in bed. Sending both of your children a thankful but strained smile. “Boys? Would you mind giving us a minute?” both of them won’t argue with you now. not with how weak you look.

- You tell Seokjin the story- Yoongi filling in the blanks more than you do. He’s being so tender with you- the physical contact filling you with a soft haze along with the sleepiness. His fingers rubbing down your arm slowly and gently. He’s fully sprawled next to you, your head resting on his chest so you can listen to his heartbeat. Dozing a little. “Are you sure Yoongi?” Seokjin asks gripping the scarf like it’s a lifeline.

- Yoongi nods certain, “it must have been some sort of relic- you know how the humans like to hand those down through the generations. Jungkook’s birth parent’s where- these warriors? I can only describe them as a clan of dragon hunters but I never went back after I-“

- Yoongi can’t meet Seokjin’s eyes. “I killed them and then Jungkook was just there and couldn’t- I didn’t want to-” you lift a shaky hand up to cup Yoongi’s cheek, and he leans into it. All at once you realize this- you in the bed, and Seokjin accusing Yoongi of something the likes of which you can’t imagine, are too much for him.

- You jump in where Yoongi fails to articulate the words. “After that we took care of him together, and then Hobi came- and it’s only been us ever since. I’m sorry Seokjin, I don’t know who you’re looking for. But I don’t think it has anything to do with Jungkook” Seokjin’s protests die in his throat, and he nods sadly, setting the scarf gently on the end of your bed.

- Later- Yoongi will tell you about Seokjin’s family. and how slowly, after a period of time- they’d all begun to disappear off the face of the earth. The only family of sorcerers left or made- even Seokjin didn’t know how they’d come to be. Only that there could only be the seven of them and no more. Not even any more children, As having children was as good as passing your power down onto them- and relinquishing your own immortality.

- First his parents had gone- than his older siblings, and finally, his younger sister who had simply vanished one-afternoon leaving Seokjin alone- the only sorcerer left in the world. Seokjin had been searching for her ever since.

- That afternoon- you have more energy with your children around, and even eat something small. Though Seokjin had warned Yoongi that it might take a little while for your body to recuperate- he’s happy to watch you sit up a little more. The warmth back in your cheeks when you play a game of cards with your children sprawled across the bed that night.

- Both of them give you more details here and there about what had happened after you’d lost consciousness happy to receive more praise from you. Sometimes- Hoseok gets a little overwhelmed and needs to hug you and shifts- but he’s conscious enough to move before that happens this time (after a few poignant comments about the state of the bedframe from Seokjin), putting most of his weight on a plush couch that he and Jungkook had pushed over to the side of the bed. Leaning only his head on the plush blanket. It’s easy for both Yoongi and Jin to excuse themselves and go make dinner.

- It always surprises Yoongi how much Seokjin loves to cook- for an all-powerful immortal that doesn’t necessarily need to put in effort into doing anything. Yoongi has seen him wave his hands and summon full cooked feasts. And still, the sorcerer does love to cook with his own two hands, finding the process more satisfying that way.

- His friend looks the same as he had over a dozen years ago- his button-down shirt rolled to the sleeves, barking at Yoongi to pour out scoops of finely milled powders to make some sort of doughy saucy dish that Yoongi’s never heard of before. Seokjin’s mother’s cookbook sits open on the prep table- so it must be something special.

- “Just say it- I know you have something you want to ask,” Seokjin’s voice is quiet and comforting. In their little cadre- Seokjin has always been the voice of reason. Yoongi’s hands are elbow deep in flour. Slowly kneading the dough. He hesitates for a moment. Knowing once he asks, the future might be out of his hands.

- “I can’t lose her Jin, I don’t think Hoseok and I will be able to bear it when they both go- I don’t want to go back to being that lonely person I was- I need them. I need you to find a way to turn her immortal like us, and then I want you to do the same with Jungkook.”

- Hoseok is like Yoongi- won’t even reach maturity for another 20 years- and by that time, you’ll be older, and Jungkook will be nearing 35. He’s honestly surprised that he and Jungkook are still aging at the same rate as in general. Dragons stop aging once their human bodies start to reach maturity. Yoongi doesn’t want to think about the eventuality- 50 or 60 years down the line when Hoseok will loose his soul-bonded partner. They could lose both of you. If Seokjin and Yoongi don’t act now.

- But yet- he knows- what he’s asking of Seokjin is no easy feat of magic. If it was- Taehyung would be standing next to them right now. Seokjin’s eyes darken when Yoongi asks, his hands still from where he’s stirring the sauce. flicking off the fire with a twitch of his hand and setting the spoon on a plate.

- Yoongi knows a cure for mortality has been the only thing on Seokjin’s mind for a long time- before you were born even. It’s been his single goal since he’d met Taehyung. Yoongi wonders where Taehyung is- he should go and say hello to his old friend soon, but he’s not sure where he is in the castle probably hidden away near Seokjin’s bedroom.

- Seokjin makes a ‘come hither’ motion with his fingers and a singular perfect drop of red floats from the pot and into his mouth. “This needs something” he pauses for a moment before he turns and walks to the pantry. Searching for some oregano- but it might be in the study- after all- it was very useful in most calming spells. “You should go check on her Yoongi, and send your boys here- I want to teach them how to make this.”

- In the week since you’d been injured. Seokjin has taken it upon himself to teach the boys how to cook for themselves (if they’re going to insist on being the adventurers they are then it’s a skill they’ll need to posses) as well as “manners” which Yoongi had caught them grumbling about more than once.

- Jin likes his boys a fair bit, Even if they have gotten into his stores of potions twice in the last week (of which one incident had, unfortunately, lead to Hoseok’s hair turning into full-on feathers as dark as Jungkook’s hair. But luckily that had been quickly fixed by a secondary spell. What Yoongi doesn’t have to know- won’t hurt him) “Jin please-”

- “I know how it feels Yoongi- I know- just enjoy the next few days okay? Let me think about it. And ask her if she even wants this its not just you who chooses what happens with your family, Jungkook and Hobi too.” Yoongi sighs, but respects Seokjin’s words.

- And as much as Yoongi’s fear won’t let him make a coherent decision- he’s right. He should ask you first before he makes any plans about your mortality. Once you’re better- then he’ll ask. Yoongi lifts his hands up from the dough and unsurprisingly it keeps kneading its self pulled this way and that by an unseen force. A little too quickly- like Seokjin’s magic is a little agitated by so many questions.

- “I never thought you’d have kids. The Yoongi I met all those years ago wouldn’t have wanted to bring a woman into his mess let alone a child” Yoongi has to laugh at it because he’s right. His younger self was a lot more angsty and pessimistic about the likelihood of a family in his future.

- Yoongi can’t stop the soft smile that lights his face when he thinks of you. “They give me a lot of joy Jin- hope for the future too. Maybe the best way to change the world is to raise your own kids and make sure you do it right. Maybe that’s the way to change the world rather than any more pointless wars.”

- Seokjin knocks his shoulder into Yoongi’s “You’ve grown up a lot since I last saw you Yoongi.” And Yoongi can’t do anything else but smile- because sometimes- growing up is a good thing.

- You get better slowly, it takes you a few days to get out of bed and see the castle that your children have taken upon themselves to explore. A dark gothic structure with vaulted ceilings; its Library full of jeweled toned spell books in languages that Jungkook doesn’t even recognize- and tries to learn (his curiosity as unsatiable as ever).

- The books that seem to whisper in Jungkook’s ear. Sentences so quiet like t he’s just a little too far away to properly make out the words.

- Enchanted brooms sweeping here and there. Making indigent squeaking noises if you walk along their path. Rooms full of drawers- the shelves lining all the way up through the ceiling- each ingredient labeled by its uses, it’s common name, and its magical name. You’re curious too- especially when you find some plants even you use for healing with particular uses.

- The whole place is furnished like a decade out of the past- tufted velvet sofas and chipped gilded mirrors that have greyed with age- some of which are covered with cloths. You ask Seokjin what they hide when Hoseok tries to pull the covering off of one unseen magical hands stopping him. And the sorcerer just sighs a little clipped, and says cryptically “some things are best left unknown at his age.”

- Later one evening you’ll go over to it again and ask. And Seokjin will tell you that the mirror Hoseok was trying to peer into shows the viewer their soulmate. And when you pull the casing off of it- you don’t see anything- anyone standing beside you at all. Until Yoongi comes into the room, having just made sure that your boys were getting to bed at a semi-reasonable hour.

- Moving to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. smiling at you in the mirror and Tugging you to go to bed- and get some rest (he’s been seemingly obsessed with making sure you rest and become 100% better before you even talk about what you’re going to do next). You glance back at Seokjin- about to ask him what that means- to see no one. Until you see his small happy smile- oh, so Yoongi actually is your soulmate. You suppose that’s nice- knowing for sure.

- And Seokjin will sip his wine from the fireplace and give you both a soft shadowed smile, his hands tapping vacantly- reaching out for someone who he can’t touch, and wanting all the same. when he takes a chance and looks across the room to see Taehyung smiling at him, reflected in that mirror. And gets up to cover it again.

- Everything in the castle hums some sort of undercurrent. The room Seokjin sets you and Yoongi up in is lavish- the bed impossibly soft and the sheets that feel like running water on your skin. The fabrics that hang on the walls detailing stories that seem to be ever-changing. One morning you wake up to an embroidered phoenix hanging on the wall across from you and the next; some sort of intricate blue flower about to bloom.

- There are 100 moments that could have prepared you for what happens in the end. Hoseok and Jungkook walking through the library- only to have Jungkook complain that it’s ‘too loud to concentrate” “what are you talking about Koo it’s a library” “yeah but- don’t you hear it?” or the fact that Jungkook keeps begging Seokjin to do spells but somehow they never stick.

- You’re lounging in the sitting room next to the library, its tall glass ceiling- a small door to the side open to the backyard and garden. You’re shivering a little where you’re propped up against Yoongi. He keeps fussing, tucking the blanket around you tighter. And you’re ready for another nap even though you’ve just woken up.

- Your children badger Seokjin about every different kind of spell that he can do after they find one that gives someone the ability to control the length of their hair- which is apparently something Hoseok really wants- though you can’t imagine why.

- They’re just working out the logistics when Jungkook lugs over a spellbook more half his size and slams it down across the desk, making both Seokjin and Hoseok- having been bent over the spellbook- flinch. “Page 497” Jungkook is almost vibrating with excited energy, as Seokjin waves a hand, the massive book flipping open, “Hyung” he tacks on- with little regard for politeness. But Seokjin supposes its better than he’d been before- when he hadn’t even remembered to refer to Seokjin as his elder.

- Hoseok is a little cross at Jungkook for interrupting for a moment, Before he leans over the spellbook, his smile lighting up his whole face, his voice suddenly loud and mirthful “oh yes- please- Seokjin Hyung-”

- “What is it?” you call from where you sit, Yoongi putting a finger in his book and setting it aside so that he can watch, a gentle smile playing on his lips. one arm around your waist as you recline against him, leaning forward to slowly run his nose over your shoulder.

- Seokjin rolls his eyes, rising from the table and rolling up his sleeves, looking exasperated but ready for the challenge of doing a spell he’s never attempted. It’s far easier just to teleport that fly honestly. “Of course you’d want to fly- alright- come on then- to the middle of the room with you.”

- Yoongi starts to protest- that maybe inside isn’t the best place for this, but you put a hand on his arm, soothing him because you want to watch but you don’t want to move. You suppose with a ceiling- Jungkook can’t let his flying get out of hand. It’s probably better to be more contained. Both of you watch as Jungkook practically vibrates with energy. Hoseok is happy glancing at him too- “I can’t wait to fly with you Kookie- this way- we can go everywhere! And I don’t even have to carry you!”

- Hoseok and Jungkook had been trying to find a way to fly with Jungkook on Hoseok’s back for years. But he’d never been strong enough or large enough to handle Jungkook’s weight for more than a few minutes. He was getting stronger- but your boys are impatient.

- Seokjin humors both of them, holding both his hands out and when he starts to speak, the purple light flares at his fingertips. The stone at the center of his chest glowing too. You’d asked him about it a few days ago- and he’d said that each sorcerer needed some sort of channel- a magical object to give them the ability to link their soul to the magic humming all around them. And you watch it pulsate now as he speaks the words. Jungkook closes his eyes as the magic washes over him like a heavy blanket, his hair rising on end.

- Jungkook only hovers an inch above the ground before the magic rebound upon him- slipping off of him and sticking to Hoseok- who suddenly finds himself floating 4 feet above the ground. The spell stops and he touches down as Jungkook makes a disappointed grumble, crestfallen, “Why didn’t it work!”

- Seokjin blinks, looking down at his hands. “that’s strange” he says- before he asks Hoseok to step away- something about the soulbond interfering maybe. Both you and Yoongi watch on- your books set aside to watch.

- Jungkook is almost vibrating with excitement as Seokjin closes his eyes really concentrating this time, Hoseok waiting and watching behind him. You think something should be happening- until you realize that Yoongi and yourself are hovering a foot off of the couch.

- Seokjin sets you down easily. All of them laughing at you clinging to Yoongi when you realize you’re airborne frantically asking Seokjin to put you down. Yoongi’s gummy smile on display. Jungkook looks more and more put out by the second. “Let's go outside” Seokjin says, and your children head jauntily out after him, Jungkook lugging the spellbook under one arm, almost slipping in the grass under its weight.

- You and Yoongi are soft- piled up together. Yoongi’s long fingers dancing along the edge of your knuckles, rubbing over the little scars that you have here and there. You both watch as Seokjin tries and tries and tries- but Jungkook never gets more than a few inches off the grass. You can see the impression the magic makes in the grass as it rushes from Seokjin to Jungkook, making it stand up or fall down in place- like it’s some sort of wind.

- “There’s something I want to ask you- when we’ve got the chance I-“ Yoongi’s sentence is interrupted by Hoseok’s shout of “Uncle Jimin! Uncle Namjoon!” in the yard, Yoongi helps you up and sure enough- Namjoon and Jimin are touching down in the front yard. Hugging each of your sons, Seokjin and Namjoon embracing once Namjoon has a second to shift.

- Jimin is just doting on Jungkook and Hoseok, hugging them- thankful that they’re alright- when he looks up- clothed differently and less flamboyantly than he usually is. His simple flying gear dark and patterned, making him sleek and quicker as a flyer- so much so that you barely see him before he’s colliding with you- “are you okay we found your blood and the men and-“ their words rush out of them before you have a chance to blink-

- “I’m- I’m okay- a little banged up but- I’m fine Jimin” their face is panicked, Namjoon’s somber as they rush over. “We thought you were dead” he says, you can tell by his dimples- making a brief appearance that he’s happy to find you alive and relatively alright.

- Even now- Seokjin and Namjoon stand closer- as if by proximity they could make up for the distance of years- its hard to wrack your memory for the reason why but then you remember- they’re soul bonded partners. “Did you-“ Yoongi’s voice trails off. The feral glint in Jimin’s eye is more lethal than any you’ve ever seen in it- “I did” he says, relish in the words.

- Yoongi nods, letting out an uneven laugh “good” he pulls you closer by an arm around your waist. Because he hadn’t been able to get revenge and the knowledge that the men that had hurt you hadn’t gotten away- its enough for now. “Oh you mean- the dragon hunters?” Jimin smile is fanged when he looks at you.

- His hands are viselike on your upper arms as he tugs you close- whispers low in your ear. “No one hurts my family and gets away with It.“ you blush a little, unsure how to respond because that kind of loyalty is rare. and it does warm your heart a little.

- “There’s more though” Namjoon says, and it's then that you realize that he’s dressed much in the same way Jimin is. The clothes simple tight and black, Namjoon doesn’t look happy when he has to say the words. Age-old tiredness in his face.

- “That wasn’t any ordinary attack- it was ordered by the human king- to try to take you out before the fighting starts.” Yoongi and you straighten up, in the background, Hoseok and Jungkook stand a little closer, “the human king has declared eminent domain over all dragon lands. We’ll go to war within the month.”

- The argument that happens next isn’t what you expect- not at least- from Jimin and Namjoon. It ends with Yoongi slamming his hands down on a table in Seokjin’s study the sound loud and percussive. “No Namjoon- I won’t fucking fight.”

- You’re glad that your sons aren’t here- have been told by you to go explore- neither of them had seemed too upset about it- maybe just a little because they wanted to see Jimin and Namjoon- but not enough to question you. They understand how serious it must be for all of the adults to look so somber.

- Smoke curls over Yoongi’s chin. And the room fills with an ice-like chill from Namjoon as his temper flares. “I will not- nor will I ever again- fight another war for that blasted council. I have a family to keep safe now Namjoon- and I can’t believe you’d even ask-“

- “That’s exactly why I’m asking you Yoongi. How can you expect them to be safe without you?” he makes a flippant gesture with his hands, and next to you in the doorway where Jimin leans, he winces Yoongi recoiling already taking that wrong.

- “The last war took 33 years Namjoon, by that time- Y/n will be almost 70 and Jungkook will be aged too- you can’t expect me to waste what little time I might have left on something so-”

- “Hang on-“ Jimin interrupts; he’s been standing, leaning back against the doorway for the majority of this conversation. “When did you get so obsessed with time?” “Since I almost lost her Jimin, I can’t-”

- “You didn’t!?” Namjoon straightens up, looking at his soul-bonded partner aghast. “You didn’t fucking promise him something that you can’t even fucking do for Taehyung- Seokjin!”

- Seokjin flinches back, from where he sits at the table, trying to stay out of the argument, his face drawn. Hands clasped, leaning his chin on them. He doesn’t respond. “Neither of you get it!” Yoongi yells, hands bursting into flames by his side, hot furious tears budding at the corner of his eyes. “Both of you are immortal you don’t know what it’s like- watching the person you love almost die. I can’t- I won't stand by while I lose”

- Yoongi breaks off- glancing up at you, already stepping forward to comfort him, he swallows, meeting Namjoon’s furious glare. “I won't waste another day that I have with them- and neither should you- you both should fuck the council and side with us.”

- “Yoongi” you say. Your voice breaking, running to him- his hands extinguishing the second he even gets close to touching you. Because you hadn’t really realized how much this was affecting him. You hold onto him as strong he holds onto you. Namjoon and Jimin sigh, their fight and the chill in the air dissipating as they accept Yoongi’s choice. Jimin grasping at his hand. Namjoon looks at Yoongi- suddenly looking defeated. Seokjin won't look at him, keeps his eyes on the desk in front of him. “Alright- if you won’t fight I can’t make you, but Seokjin will you?”

- Seokjin shakes his head, his voice so quiet and thick with emotion- with hope. “If both of us are looking- it will be easier- twice as much brain power as one- with Yoongi by my side- we’ll make twice as much progress in a year.”

- You’ve been silent up until now, rubbing your face slowly into Yoongi’s shirt, Yoongi’s hands fisting in the back of your shawl tight around your shoulders. Since you nearly died- you’ve been colder than usual. There have been a lot of things said in this argument that you don’t understand. And from the somber way Seokjin speaks- you figure you should know.

- You’ve been letting them argue because as much as you care that your mate stays by your side- this isn’t a choice any of you should make for Yoongi. Even if you’re on his side, and don’t want him to waste another moment. to be parted from you for anyother moment. “What do you guys mean? Progress with what?”

- Jimin snorts, crossing his arms like it’s the confirmation that he needed. “See- you haven’t even asked her yet.”

- “Asked me what? I don’t understand,” you say at the same moment Namjoon looks over at the clock, checking the time. “We have to go- the council is having a meeting about this tomorrow night and if they’re going to call the garrison without you- they’ll need time to pick a replacement.”

- None of them have to look far- the only one who could replace Yoongi would be Namjoon himself- his second in command. Yoongi watches with a sick feeling in his stomach- at the possibility of Namjoon going to war without either Seokjin or himself by his side isn’t apealing. But then Yoongi looks at you- and the prospect gets a little easier to bear. Namjoon and Jimin leave, embracing you before they go, and you touch either of their cheeks telling them to be safe.

- And the three of you linger in study. Listening to Jimin and Namjoon hug Jungkook and Hobi on the patio outside and say goodbye at least for a little bit. Seokjin following them to say a few words to namjoon before he takes off. Because Namjoon and Jimin are sure to be busy for a while at least- this will take all of their attention. Damn Namjoon for his altruism and Jimin for his inability not to follow his mates led and stand by him. Yoongi wishes they would stay.

- Yoongi comes over to stand by you as you watch them get ready to take off, namjoon already shifted, Hoseok shifted too to jump on his back playfully teasing his uncle, he scrabbles with his claws against Namjoon’s slippery icy scales. and you can hear Jungkook, Jimin, and Seokjin’s giggles from here.

- Yoongi presses a hot kiss against the nape of your neck, and then your mouth when you turn your face to let him, and you can feel his frustration in it, all of the passion. Jimin and namjoon take off- leaving as quickly as he came. It’s easy for him to Wisk you away to a quiet part of the castle. Needing some quiet with you- to have you all to himself for just a little while.

- The kisses don’t stop even when he picks you up after you stumble. You barely even notice the rest of the castle passing in a blur as he carries you through it, kicking open the door to your bedroom.

- He lays you back on the bed gently as he can, his hands touching and brushing all over you. His movements almost fever mad with the need to touch “Yoongi” you say, breathless- a half moan as he touches you the way that makes you dizzy and close to falling apart at the seams. But he’s hard there- ready to keep you together but desperate.

- “Let me feel you just- let me taste you” he says, kissing down your collar bones and rucking up your shirt so he can mouth hungrily at the skin of your stomach, every touch of his desperate and Shaking. “Let me just-please- I know you’re tired but I’ll do I’ll the work- I’ll take care of you-”

- You don’t understand why he suddenly needs your skin on his more than he needs air in his lungs. Maybe its because it’s the first time since you’ve been injured- or maybe because he’d been so close to losing you and Jimin and Namjoon had just reminded him of it. Maybe it's a little bit of the guilt he feels for not being able to protect you and take care of you in the first place.

- And though you have so many questions, when Yoongi looks at you a little too emotional; you forget all your questions and kiss him back, touch him back when he shakes, because he looks so vulnerable right now- more than you’ve ever seen him.

- Your hand comes down to scratch around his horns in the way you know has had him coming at times, and he groans, low and breathless as he tugs down your pants. Shucking them off and hooking your knee over his shoulder fingers reaching down to part your wetness. The press of his long fingers making your back arch. His mouth as equally hot and wet on you as you feel.

- True to his word Yoongi does all of the work, and it leaves you feeling boneless and sated in the way only your mate can make you feel. It's sweaty and sensual but close more than anything as he slides into you and keeps you near, chest pressed to yours. his face buried in your shoulder, almost crying with how good it feels to be so connected to you. The kisses lingering and hot and thankful because you’re here- you’re here.

- “Yoongi?” you ask, alarmed when you realize he’s actually crying. Seated inside of you after he’s cum, hiding his face in your shoulder. “Baby what’s wrong?” he can barely speak, his voice raw when he looks up, lips pursed to keep his sobs in.

- “I can’t lose you- I can’t Y/n- I just can’t and that day- when I thought I had lost you” Yoongi is lost for words. “I just- I can’t keep going if you die, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

- “Not ‘if ‘though” you say, being honest with him, crying as you shake your head, “when right? Because I’m not immortal like you”

- Yoongi shakes his head, suddenly sitting up, “no- I mean if- if you die.”

- With little more than that Yoongi launches into his explanation, the story of Seokjin and Taehyung, and what that means for both of you. Eventually- you end up sitting up next to each other. Fingers and legs tangled together- Yoongi rushing over his words like a babbling brook. And slowly- what he means to do starts to take hold.

- The next morning, Seokjin knocks on the door to your bedroom. “Where are Hoseok and Jungkook?” you ask, finishing braiding your hair while Yoongi laces up his boots. Seokjin leans against the door in his silky purple robe, fiddling with its ties. “They’re eating breakfast- you don’t have to worry about them- they’re okay- a little angry with Jimin and Namjoon for leaving but they’ll be okay.” Seokjin looks like they’re more that he wants to say- but doesn’t. “Did you ever manage to put that spell on Jungkook?”

- “No- but for the life of me I’m going to figure out why” you can tell by the way he shakes his head that it’s not normal. Yoongi snorts a little, sitting behind you to fiddle with the tail of your braid a little. The action is almost subconscious. “It’s probably for the best- otherwise we’d have to clean him out of the rafters constantly.” Seokjin laughs at that- but still looks uncomfortable.

- “Did you-“ he turns to Yoongi to ask, but it’s you who answers. “He did.” Seokjin seems to straighten up- nodding softly. Holding out his hand for you to take it. “There’s something I want to show you then.”

- The boy in the glass coffin is something out of a dream. The flowers surrounding him of every single texture and fragrance, orange blossoms, jasmine, autumn clematis, datura, and sweet woodruff all in piles around the sleeping boy. Blanketing him in heaps of white, filling the room with an intoxicating scent.

- “Who is he?” you ask, watching the way that Seokjin tenderly rubs circles over the glass. Even underneath it- you can see how beautiful the boy is, gangly in his litheness, but with a strong jaw that spoke of a turning of age. You would have thought he was dead if not for the gentle rise of his chest in his pale white shirt. The collar parted a little to show his chest and the runes written on his skin.

- “His name Taehyung, he’s my lover,” Seokjin looks down at him like he’s about to cry, “Though a better word for us would be soulmates.” finally you know what Seokjin would see if he looked into the mirror in his study. And why he kept it covered- why look at an imitation when he had the real thing upstairs.

- There is nothing but the most gentle, the most aching love on Seokjin’s face, and also- the deepest sorrow. “Or like Yoongi calls me- his mate” you smile, tipping your shoulder into Seokjin to try and make that look go off his face, his eyes flicker from the sleeping man up to you. “Yes- I suppose that’s right.”

- “What’s wrong with him? why is he in there?” “I put him in an eternal sleep to stop his aging- until I can find a way for us to be together forever- and turn him immortal like me.” “So you’re going to try and turn him into a magician?”

- Seokjin shakes his head, “Not quite- it’s not possible for there to be more like me. if I could turn him into a sorcerer like me- then he’d be immortal. But Magic- it isn’t so easily tamed.” Seokjin looks down at his hands, the blue fire creeping between them like some sort of bug, winding back around his fingers, as quick as you can think it- the fire solidifies into a snake- all at once going back to fire- so quick you almost think you imagine it.

- “Magic is particular about its host. If it bonds with the wrong person it kills them- and almost everyone can’t take it. It’s only ever been my family who was able to take the magic. There hasn’t ever been another bloodline that’s been strong enough.”

- Yoongi had told you about Seokjin’s family. And you’d also seen one of the portraits hanging deep in the castle. Almost as tall as the room it’s self- the people painted at a one to one scale. Half a dozen people, and at the center of it- a chubby-cheeked Seokjin with those luminous purple eyes, probably no more than 6. Holding hands tightly with a female child with equally as haunting blue eyes. All of them- just gone. “And my bloodline is all dead or gone- there’s not much difference.”

- So Seokjin only has Taehyung and that glass coffin, he gets to watch his love sleep as long as he wants, but cannot touch him. Forever just too far away until he comes back to life. You watch as Seokjin leans- and puts his weight over Taehyung. If there was no glass, he would be lying across his lap.

- “Once a year I wake him up- on my birthday. Taehyung makes it my birthday present. But mostly it’s to make sure he hasn’t gotten lost wherever he is in his dreams. Sometimes it’s harder than others to get him to come back, but the good thing is that it just feels like a night has passed for him so he doesn’t have to miss me too much.”

- “Even though it’s been a year for you? Doesn’t it get lonely for you?”

- His fingers keep stroking lovingly over the glass of the coffin. “Its hard- but it’s not impossible. To get the chance to live with him forever- to get enough time with him- I’d do anything. One day a year is better than an eternity of nothing.” Seokjin turns his eyes on you, “Yoongi wants to do the same for you and Jungkook.”

- The breath gets knocked out of your lungs, as you turn it over in your head- eternal sleep, immortality, and all of it boiling down to Yoongi. Of course- he’d told you last night- but now it hits you- this room filled with flowers. Seokjin so close to his love and never able to touch him. When you think back to when you’d been stabbed- you remember some words- comforting- Yoongi’s voice that you’d held onto through the darkness. ‘I haven’t had nearly enough time with you yet’

- “But- Jungkook- he’s only a child.”

- “He killed a man for you, Y/n, he’s not a child anymore, neither is Hobi” you can’t help it. You wipe your tears away with the back of your hand. “I want to talk with Yoongi again,” Seokjin pushes up from his lovers bedside, his hand lingering on the glass coffin- aching to reach inside and touch him for sure- but he can’t. You don’t want to imagine Yoongi in the same fate.

- You wait while Seokjin gets Yoongi, looking at Taehyung thinking about yourself locked in some sort of glass contraption. The more you look at Taehyung- the more something about him sticks out. You hear footsteps behind you. Seokjin leaves the two of you to talk for a moment. Intent on retrieving some tea for the three of you. It’s still barely before noon. “I think I may have dreamed about him one point- years ago. There’s something familiar about his face.”

- Yoongi puts his hand on the side of the glass as if to touch Taehyung. “Did you know him?” “Only for a little while- but just enough to understand why Seokjin could never bear loosing him. In many ways Taehyung is what makes the world sweet for Seokjin- no point in living if all there is only bitterness.”

- “Is that how- is that how you feel about me? Is that what would happen to you if I died? When I die?” Yoongi pulls you close, and before he can manage to pin his emotions inside of his fire-filled chest they spark up like embers and he’s crying- holding you close. “Don’t say that just yet. But it is.” there is nothing else needed but that- Yoongi’s face pinned to your shoulder, his hands holding you like he knows he wont be able to protect you from the world and all the horrors in it.

- Seokjin walks back in- carrying a tray piled high with cookies and a pot full of tea that smells sweet. Yoongi holds you around your shoulders while you sit, too tired, and still weak from your injury to stand any longer. You don’t look at Seokjin much when you talk, only at Taehyung.

- “I don’t want one day a year- not with Jungkook and Hobi being so young. And Yoongi doesn’t want me to wait either so- if you can give me one day a month until Jungkook turns 18. We think that could be enough. And if- if Jungkook wants the same treatment, he can choose it for himself. But we can’t make that choice for him. If he doesn’t choose it then I don’t- I won’t-”

- Yoongi brushes his hands over yours, “we don’t even know- let's ask him first before you start talking like that” But you both think that Jungkook will want it too- even if it could mean an eternity asleep. You’re already doing the math in your head. Putting it together how much time they’d have left to figure out a cure for your mortality.

- One day a year with a lifespan of about 80 years- that means Seokjin and Yoongi had around 15,000 years before you died to find a way to make you like them. It wasn’t easy- Yoongi couldn’t help but feel like they didn’t have enough time. Seokjin’s been looking for a little over 100 and he hasn’t found much at all.

- “There is one other thing” Seokjin looks worried- too worried to ask this of both of you. You catch him clutching Jungkook’s baby blanket like it could be a lifeline again- for the hundredth time since you’ve come here. He’d taken it a few days ago to study it- try and see if he could put a tracking spell on it to find the owner. But unfortunately- the spell only leads back to Jungkook. Not too surprising since it had been in his possession for so long. “If- if Jungkook’s ancestors are somehow connected to my sister's disappearance, then I need to know.”

- “Seokjin” Yoongi isn’t full of reproach- only pity- because before now- Seokjin’s never doubted the fact that his sister was dead. That was the only reason why she ever would have left him, or stayed away for the last hundred or so years.

- Seokjin shakes his head “Only a sorcerer could have put done this spell Yoongi. if it was a witch it would have worn off years ago. and I’m the last one of my family left and I didn’t do the spell. If my sister is still out there- then I need to find out. I need you to show me where you found him.”

- Seokjin turns to where you sit by his loves bedside, through it all; Taehyung’s chest rises up and down. He turns a little fitful in his sleep. “Taehyung won’t wake for another three weeks- if we go tomorrow- we can be there and back in one. I don’t trust Taehyung with anyone.” his eyes flash with a flood of purple, dangerous as he stares at you, “but I think I can trust you- that’s my price. I’ll put you to sleep like him if you look over him for me while we’re gone.”

- You nod softly, “that’s more than reasonable” “make sure your children don’t terrorize my castle either” Seokjin rubs at his temples. “God they’re- Hoseok is entirely re-ordering my series on shrinking spells- he thinks he’s putting them back right but- ugh- it's going to take me an age to put them back in order”

- “You can feel what they’re doing?” you ask surprised. “I can feel everything” Seokjin says, melancholy and bleak. “Everything that goes on in this castle if I’m not distracted enough- it kind of gets-” Seokjin’s chest heaves a little unevenly. “Overwhelming. That’s why I can’t live close to anyone all of their thoughts and wants and needs on display- like you. I can tell that you want Yoongi to sit closer to you because you're worried about what he’ll be like when he can't touch you, and I can tell that he’s still calculating something- and it’s making you nervous- please stop- it’s making everything worse Yoon.”

- Yoongi straightens up, his cheeks blushing a little before he pulls his chair closer to yours. You give up after a moment, standing up to sit in his lap. Seokjin doesn’t look uncomfortable- only mollified. Still shaky. “Taehyung used to be the only thing that would make it better-“

- “Can you tell what he’s dreaming of?” the way that he’s looking at Taehyung, it’s like he wishes he could lean forward and pulls him closer. Curl up with him on his lap the same way Yoongi is doing with you.

- “Sometimes” his fingers tap on the glass, “but most of the time it’s hard to see through the glass. And it’s almost worse then- because when you can see your love- but you can’t touch them or hold them or talk with them- it almost makes it worse” he turns to Yoongi sharply. “I guess you’ll find out.”

- Seokjin’s chest is still heaving unevenly and it makes you alarmed- especially when you see one of the roses by the window shake so hard all its petals fall off- you can almost feel it- the way the air trembles. A glass bottle on the shelf rattles, and nearly falls off the edge before it’s pushed back.

- Seokjin’s hands shake too. You reach out- gently covering Seokjin’s hands with yours over the glass coffin. “If you can’t see him- maybe talking about him will help calm you down” your voice is low and honeyed- like you’re comforting a startled doe.

- Yoongi can see the way Seokjin visibly shutters at the contact- almost shakes too much and Yoongi curses himself a little internally. His friend has been on his own for so long and it’s so painful to see. He’s so incredibly starved for human touch. Seokjin leaves his hand under yours over the glass casket, lets you touch him even though it looks like it’s overwhelming to him- so much so that it almost hurts.

- Yoongi knows what that feels like- remembers feeling much the same the first time he’d ever touched you- those first lingering touches- when you’d pass him baby Jungkook- or the feel of his son in his arms- such a slight boneless weight, warm and soft in all the most endearing ways.

- You’re such a natural healer- and Seokjin looks so distraught- so achingly lonely- you can’t not reach out and try to make it better. If he’s going to give you Yoongi your family forever- the least you can do is offer him this.

- “Taehyung was- Taehyung is an effervescent person.” Seokjin looks at his love when he says the words- soft and slow. “There are certain people that only come along once in a lifetime- that you are destined to meet. My sister- she was the fortuneteller of the family- she was the one who always saw what was going to happen to us before it did. And if she’d been able to meet him- I’m sure she would have said it was fate, because there isn’t any other explanation for him loving me.”

- “Humanity is a delicate thing- you all- chase immortality like you should want it- like memories should be eternal- but they aren’t. It didn’t use to bother me- not being able to remember where I was born or how I grew up- but Taehyung- Taehyung made me not want to forget a single second.”

- “He was a farm boy, grew up with a big family as poor as could be but never with an empty stomach. even now, if I think hard enough- I can still taste his peach tart on my tongue. He makes it for me every year on my birthday. I wake him up and he makes me a peach tart and we eat it. Tae calls it “every day a birthday”

- “He’s the one who made me put him to sleep you know- I was prepared to live with him until he died and then- find a way to end my life myself- I wanted it- I more than wanted it but Tae- he saw right through me. He almost died just before. Got hit in the head during one of the last battles.”

- Seokjin looks at Yoongi, and Yoongi nods. “I remember, Namjoon and I were fighting on the mountainside, and we saw this black cloud flood the valley- like smoke. And by the time it dissipated, there was only Seokjin and Tae left.” you bristle internally- wondering how powerful the man who sits across from you is if he can fell an army in a single day.

- “I put him to sleep so that I could heal him- so that he wouldn’t die. The initial spell wasn’t much different than the one that’s on him now. I stitched him together cell by cell until his brain was healed. I was so worried when he woke up that he wouldn’t remember me but he did- and the first words out of his mouth were; ‘I knew you would die for me- but you also have to live Jinnie- both of us do- I’m not letting me be the reason you die.”

- You look up sharply at Yoongi when he intakes a jagged breath- “would you do the same for me Yoongi?” he can’t answer, only keeps holding your hand. And you know just by the way his eyes flood with tears and his shoulders hunch in that yes- that is the case.

- Suddenly you’re flustered, standing up, “Okay this is a lot- we need to hug it out” you gesture expectantly with your open arms, suddenly not able to handle all of the emotion in the room without doing something about it.

- Yoongi gives an aborted protest at you standing. And Seokjin flushes all the way to his ears again. Both of them folding in around you- your arm coming up to loosely tug Seokjin into your arms and he goes gratefully after a moment of reluctance. Both of them holding onto you limply. “I don’t get hugs a lot.” Seokjin says, his voice sounding small and shy.

- “Well it’s a good thing I have some to spare.” Yoongi gives you a thankful look before he tucks his face in close kissing your forehead and then dragging burying his face in your shoulder. both of them taller than you, hunched over to hug you properly.

- The three of you hug for a bit and then you pull apart first- because as much as you are always happy to comfort him. Your side is starting to ache a little- and you need to sit down. Both of them understand, even if you do see Seokjin’s hand reach out a little at first- unwilling to part with his first source of human comfort in a little less than a year.

- “Tell me more- tell me all of the good things” Seokjin launches into the story of when they first met without a second thought- smiling this time. Yoongi sends you a thankful look. Somewhere along the line. The room has stopped shaking with Seokjin’s tremulous emotions. And with his focus firmly on all of the happy memories he has with Taehyung he relaxes a little.

- All in all though, it might not be the best moment for him to lose his concentration. As your 15 and 13-year-old sons are left unchaperoned in a house full of very magical and very dangerous objects and spellbooks. Not the best moment for Seokjin to be occupied.

- If he hadn’t been so distracted, he might have realized sooner- before it was too late.

- Jungkook and Hoseok have found their way through the library and into a second more hidden library, then down a set of steps that where slippery with moss- through a separate hidden passageway and then through a door- which didn’t open for Hoseok- and then miraculously and for some unknown reason opened for Jungkook. (But don’t worry- you’ll discover why in the next 5,000 words or so- so please be patient)

- “Huh- Seokjin- Hyung was really right- the spells really won’t work on you” Jungkook just shrugs, happily shoving back the heavy iron door using all his body weight to push it open. “He should have put a real lock on it- then that might have kept me out”

- Hoseok smiles at Jungkook’s cockiness- only 13 and Hoseok can only think that if Jungkook where a character in one of your storybooks, He could have been a formidable child thief. “And besides what do they expect- we don’t have anything to do here. It's his fault for not giving us something to do!”

- When Jungkook grins at Hobi- Hobi can almost feel the future. The mischief that both of them are going to get into once Hoseok gets large enough to carry them both around the world- they want to see it all.

- Hoseok is glad- after a few days of being in a dream-like fog- it seems as though Jungkook is almost back to normal. There have been a few moments- one where he saw Jungkook flinch back from some warm water- washing up for dinner. And another, when he’d washed the clothes they’d been in that day to get out the blood. But other than that- he seems to be handling everything as well as can be expected.

- Hoseok knows (as Hoseok always knows) that Jungkook is waiting for the right time to vent to you and Yoongi about it. Hoseok wants to too- and figure out why he doesn’t feel as affected- and it’s not like he feels heartless- like he doesn’t care that he killed people. No- he feels guilty but he figures those men had made a choice just like Hoseok had made a choice.

- The room is piled high with all but the creepiest of things- crystals glow a dull purple in the wall- as glass eyes curl and blink from a few crevasses here and there where the plaster has fallen away and the bricks are exposed. Glittering potion bottles, teeth in glass jars as well as something fluffy and black that taps at the side of one with sharp claws.

- A glowing sphere here and there- nothing too bad- nothing too out of the ordinary. Stacks of black leather diary’s stacked on a shelf- more shelves crammed with things. Jungkook dashes off before with a happy hum before Hoseok can keep up, preoccupied with taking everything in. The younger disappearing through the maze of shelves and piles.

- Hoseok’s wades through the collection slower. There is something about the smell down here, Hoseok’s nose smarting with something acrid, that he doesn’t like- doesn’t want to be around at all. “Jungkookie?” Hoseok calls, walking through the isles of potions and books; somehow he’d lost sight of jungkook almost immediately. He walks too quickly, almost knocking over a fishbowl full of squids with human faces. His head bumping into some sort of crusty dried plant- the flower blooms when he touches it- but then dies when he moves away.

- For some reason he feels like he should apologize to it- and when he does- the flower bows back. A shiver works his way down his spine. A feeling like he’s being watched by something old and ancient sinking its claws into the back of his neck. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears.

- “Ugh... Kookie! I don’t think we should be down here!” he calls, looking frantically around for his companion. and then he spots Jungkook, or the back of his head, walking forward slowly. It’s then that he sees it, set into a wall of shelves, a glass box faintly glowing, its door sliding open with a faint squeak.

- Hoseok can feel the pounding in his ears strengthen as Jungkook walks towards it growing closer to thunder. the light in the box, a long glowing stick that can only be described as a wand pulsing in time with the thundering in his ears- probably in Jungkook’s too. He shouts Jungkook’s name again but he doesn’t turn.

- When Hoseok speaks it feels like he’s talking through water, runs forward to pull Jungkook back from the box, because whatever it is it can’t be good but the younger just pushes him off. It’s then that Hoseok realizes that something is wrong- terribly wrong.

- Jungkook’s eyes are wide, pupils dilated and glassy, lips parts as he stares at the wand, not even seeing Hoseok, “Kookie- stop I don’t think we should mess with-“ before Hoseok can stop him, Jungkook is reaching out, touching the wand. It’s so gentle, almost a caress. Hoseok sees it- the moment Jungkook’s brown eyes flood with bright blue- and the world explodes in a cloud of energy and magic.

- Seokjin is just telling you about the time that Taehyung tried to convince Seokjin into dying Taehyung’s hair bright pink when he pauses in the middle of a sentence. Mouth hanging open for a second before he’s cursing and disappearing in a flash- one moment present and the next not. You and Yoongi hear his voice a moment later- booming out with some sort of spell. “The basement- they found their way into- shit- fuck!”

- You and Yoongi break out into a run, and the house seems to move around you- aiding in guiding you towards them- the floors sloping down when you need and doors opening seconds before you pass them almost making Yoongi almost collide to one of them more than once. Yoongi keeps a hand on your side- supporting you enough that it barely hurts when you run. “Not that way you idiot- this way.”

- The belly of the castle gets progressively darker, glowing crystals hanging in alcoves and mushrooms growing in crevasses. Little hidden creatures that definitely are not mice making little screeching noises and running from the direction of where Seokjin guides you. Every living thing- even the moss on the walls, slowly itching away from whatever’s happened down there. You can’t run as quickly on account of your wounds but Yoongi doesn’t let you walk alone. Supporting you as you hobble along.

- “Jungkook!” you shout when you see- your son, floating a few feet above in the air, a diffuse cloud of light blue fog surrounding him- Seokjin is quick to stop you with a hand, “don’t touch him! If you want to live we can’t touch him!” Yoongi catches you around your waist just in time. Keeping you from lunging for your son. your shrill shriek of “Jungkook! Hoseok!”

- Seokjin holds his arms stiff, his hands and fingers bent at awkward angles. Magic sparking between his fingers, the bright purple fire morphs into bubbles on the end of each finger-popping off as they float to Jungkook. Combining and growing in size- encasing him in a glassy cage. Seokjin is the one keeping Jungkook contained, the only thing that separates you all from life- and oblivion.

- A pile of books stirs next to you and a fully shifted Hoseok stirs, tossing books to the ground and sneezing in all of the dust. Shifting in a smooth movement, Yoongi reaching out to touch him- to make sure he’s there an uninjured. “Oh Hobi- oh” you try as he runs to you shifting mid-step, hitting each other and holding on, his head tucked under your chin.

- “What happened!? What did you touch!?” Seokjin silences your protests of his tone with a look. “Just a- a wand I think?” Hoseok is small and scared in your arms. Seokjin looks enraged. “Don’t you know not to touch other people's things? Jungkook could have blown this castle and half the country to dust! And now he’s-“

- Seokjin chokes, the magic taking the air out of his lungs, he stumbles, but straightens. Making another complex movement with his hands when the bubble tries to swell. Contained by both his hands now- not just one. “Now it might be too late.”

- “Seokjin- what happened to him- can he be-” “Yoongi please- it’s all I can do to keep this contained- he must have-” Seokjin cannot meet Yoongi’s eyes, “The wand is trying to bind with him.” The glowing stone at the center of Seokjin’s own chest seems to glow and pulsate stronger at the words. Yoongi almost falls to his knees- no- not Jungkook. You and Hoseok are confused, horror on Yoongi’s face, Hoseok already stepping in-between you and Jungkook- like that will keep you safe from whatever threat.

- “What does this mean?” it hits him, almost makes him fall to his knees, Hoseok can’t breathe. He can’t feel Jungkook’s soul bond at all- not an inch of it. The light in his chest- the glowing soft press that always lets him know that he’s not alone- isn’t there anymore.

- Seokjin says the words steady, the way only an immortal can. “It means Jungkook is going to die. And if I don’t keep this bubble around the magic- so will all of us.”

- Jungkook doesn’t know what happened, one moment he was standing in that room and the next he’s being blown back, back through the darkness and a strange pulsating blue light and into a dark unfamiliar night.

- Also- straight into a puddle. His hands hit the mud dark water soaking his clothes- He splutters as the rain hits his face, his eyes focusing on the dark tree line. The buildings- peaked roofs with bright green tiles- different. He’s never seen them or any that looked like them before. But there are lights in the houses.

- He stands, his back and pant legs soaked with rain, he figures- there must have been some sort of transporting spell on whatever he touched (because he’d been reading Seokjin’s spell books every chance he gets and he’d discovered that those are a thing). A sudden horror fills him- because wherever he is- it’s certainly not close to Seokjin’s. The air feels colder here- closer to winter than to summer. Strange- he can almost see his breath exhaled in a cloud of blue when he heaves a shaking breath.

- He’s scared for about half a moment- before he hears the telltale whistle of dragon wings- almost unnoticeable- and he see’s the black wings faintly in the night sky, blocking out the stars. A sight he can recognize only because he’s seen it before countless times. Thank god- he thinks- because where ever he’s managed to end up Yoongi has still found him.

- He starts to run, almost calling out his name. He ends up face to face with him after Yoongi lands soundlessly knowing to stay a little ways back incase his dad doesn’t see him yet. Yoongi’s eyes sparking with a familiar yellow glow when he runs forward to greet him. “I don’t know what happened dad, one moment I was there and now I’m-”

- It surprises him- when Yoongi opens his maw and spits fire.

- He flinches, but it only takes him opening his eyes realizing that he’s not dead he’s not burning. The fire isn’t going around him- but through him he realizes when he holds his hand up. He’s confused- his mind tries to justify that it’s just a spell- the last few weeks have led him to assume that- the amount of charms that he’d begged and bugged Seokjin to put on him. (Much to the elder's frustration when the vast majority of spells just don’t work) Some sort of protective charm it must be. Like the one on his scarf that Seokjin had seemed so so interested in.

- He hears the screaming- the ear-piercing shrieking as the people run out of their houses- a gong sounds. But its already too late. “Dad- you’ve got to stop why are you-” but Yoongi just barrels through him, pulling down the roof of a house with one grab of a claw. Jungkook realizes that he must be dreaming when he tries to grab a sword sitting by the stoop of one of the houses and his hand goes straight through the handle.

- Jungkook stares at his hand for a moment- Dreaming- this must be a dream- that’s the only justification for why Yoongi would be doing this- why he would ignore Jungkook and why he would be hurting all of these people.

- All of the carnage- the people burning and screaming- some of them running, trying to roll on the ground to put their burning clothes out. Jungkook stands in the middle of it all- powerless to do anything. Jungkook watches as Yoongi tosses one back against a tree. The mans back breaking with an audible shatter that jars his ears.

- When the carnage stops He’s crying, climbing over a broken house. looking into the face of a charred corpse when Yoongi finally shifts human. “Dad” he’s crying when he tries to walk to him. “Why did you do this? Why did you hurt these people? Please I need to know- I can’t-”

- Yoongi doesn’t respond, looks at the surrounding world with disgust and hatred, and turns to walk away- he can’t hear Jungkook- can’t hear him at all. “FUCK- JUST LOOK AT ME GOD DAMN IT!” Jungkook shouts, near hysterical. He feels his words startle something- a small flinch under the boards in his feet. And suddenly a shrill crying starts up.

- That makes Yoongi turns at that, surprise in his face, he moves a heavy board and Jungkook moves to let him. He recognizes the red baby blanket first- how many times had he twined that little thing around his neck- loving the familiar comfort of the fabric. The squirming little thing is small- probably no more than 6 months old at the most, blood on his cheek.

- Jungkook reaches a hand to touch the scar on his face. “That’s me isn’t It.” no one is there to answer it as he watches. Looks- and doesn’t understand what he’s seeing.

- It’s- this is a memory- not a dream.

- The baby version of himself settles into Yoongi’s arms and Jungkook watches his father look at him. A sudden gentleness in his eyes. “Don’t- don’t leave me here dad- don’t let me die please” his words fall on unhearing ears but the rain starts up again. And Jungkook watches as Yoongi uses his body to shield the small red mass from the deluge above. His words are soft and shaky, “it’s okay- don’t cry- it’s gonna be fine I’ll- I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

- A tugging fixes in his gut- a feeling like he’s just about to vomit and then he’s thrown into the next memory. He’s at the cottage. The one he barely remembers- but the leaky roof, the chicken coup, and the front porch- that he knows. The times he’d fallen up those two steps. The soft feeling of a baby chick in his hands, a drop of water falling on his cheek- that he remembers.

- Unlike before- this world is all golden tones- the trees shining bright green. A happy memory at golden hour. And on the front porch leaning against the railing- you and Yoongi stand a few inches apart, and he can tell just by looking at you that you haven’t quite fallen in love yet.

- Your voices low- you don’t seem to notice Jungkook standing in the grass, but he hadn’t really expected either of you to see him at this point. To his left- he hears a noise- a startling in the chicken coop, a chicken indignant at being bothered, a small body chasseing them.

- “You’ve never told me- how you got Jungkook you know? And if we’re going to do this co-parenting thing, I feel like that’s something I should know.” Your words knock Jungkook’s attention from the younger version of himself back to you both. Standing next to each other- not letting your shoulders brush, but he see’s you lean a little and gathers that you might want too.

- “Do you want the truth- or a pretty lie?” your smile is small, Yoongi’s too. “The truth is preferable- we’ll have more than enough time to lie to each other”

- “Did you kill his parents?” Jungkook can tell the sudden question startles Yoongi. By the way his jaw goes tight and his eyes go down. Won’t meet yours. “It’s alright if you did- not much we can do about it now.”

- “Are you sure?” Yoongi asks, “yes- I think if we raise him at all well- when he finds out- it will hurt sure. But if we raise him well enough he’ll know that you didn’t have a choice.” Your voice dies in your throat. When you see Yoongi’s crestfallen expression. “Yoongi what are you thinking?”

- “I’m thinking that He’ll hate me when he finds out- he should hate me- you should hate me- do you know how many humans I’ve killed? How much blood is on my hands? You shouldn’t- I shouldn’t-’”

- Jungkook sees Yoongi flinch back when you reach out to him- on the porch, Jungkook can hear a giggle- a small black head of hair that must be his own poking up in the tall grass. Chasing a chicken through the underbrush in his direction. God- he doesn’t ever remember being that small.

“Yoongi” you try to stop him as he spills out into the soft grass. A few feet from where Jungkook stands. Golden light shining overly bright in his black horns. “I should go.”

- You look scared when you ask, “are you going to come back?” “I don’t know” he’s being honest Jungkook realizes, hand on the railing. You look so much younger than Jungkook ever remembers seeing you.

- The chicken dashes across Jungkook’s path, and in the grass- a small body tottels- Jungkook looks down at himself, so small and innocent- even now- adventurous. And for a brief moment, he stares into his own eyes- and sees a flash of curiosity in his child self’s face. Jungkook looks around to find something his child self might be staring at and finds nothing but himself. The young boy reaches up a hand and lets out a happy giggle- pointing at Jungkook like he can see him.

- The next moment is much like the first, all dark and black tones. Only this time the earth is sandy and sooty beneath his feet. There are so many of Hobi’s kind here- great big birdlike dragons. But it’s also as chaotic as the first. The world on fire red feathers falling from the sky. Jungkook is inside of an unfamiliar house looking out the window.

- Jungkook can hear the men shouting outside, as he looks around the house- the nest. It’s a simple accept for the golden plate wear and the shining tapestry on the wall. He hears a crash a roar. And massive being crashes into the doorway as fire roars outside. The dragon shifts- the woman limping in her human form- her golden horns polished and sharpened to points on either side of her cheeks.

- “Hoseok! Hoseok baby we have to go- go with your sister and get out of here” a small redhead- his soulmates head pokes up from underneath the kitchen table his horn catches on the edge as he stands sending the gold plate wear clanging to the ground. He runs for the woman, his little hands fisting in her long patterned skirt. “No! I won’t leave without you alpha!” the woman grabs a long sword hanging by the door. “Stay here- your sister will be back in a moment! I can’t stay my little hatchling” she turns away, tearing Hoseok’s hands from where they clutch at her skirt forcefully.

- And Jungkook watches, horror-stricken as Hoseok heads out after her. So small, shouldering his arms as he heads out into the bloodbath- too young to understand. Too young to understand and yet Jungkook knows that Hoseok will grow up a lot today- that he won’t ever really be the same. “Stop Hobi- you can’t“ Hoseok’s head whips around at the last moment, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion, looking around the room for the source of the voice- but sees nothing. Continuing on after a moment.

- The next few memories are a flurry- go too fast for Jungkook to really gather what they mean, one after another. The memories piling over each other like pages in a book. Hoseok in dragon form looking down at a younger version of himself, his tongue flicking out to lick at his cheek. Dialogue from you and Yoongi spoken through the darkness. “How did this happen- how did they get through the mountains?”

- Yoongi’s voice answering your question. “Happens more often than you think- it’s easier to get through in the south- where the snow doesn’t fall as thick. My parents died in much the same way.” The fog around Jungkook thickens, sinking into his lungs and choking him. Jimin voice- not yours, delicate and lilting. The sensation of a hand dragging through his hair. Asleep by a fireplace with the taste of the salty ocean on his tongue.

- “Dragons and humans are like separate sides of the same coin- can’t stab one without running through the other.” Yoongi agreeing, “A nest gets raided- and a dragon like me gets sent to kill a whole town. If we keep fighting- the bloodshed is never going to end Namjoon.”

- The next time Jungkook lands on even footing, he’s in the cave in the mountains and everything is golden again. He can see out the wide opening from this angle, and when he sees the green dragon in the sky circling above. He remembers this day, the first time he’d seen a dragon that wasn’t Hobi or Yoongi. He remembers how scared he’d been- Yoongi attacking with an almost feral power. He looks back into the cave as the dragon descends to your spot in the rocks waiting for his father to take action and protect you.

- But Yoongi still isn’t turning, still doesn’t see what’s about to happen, Jungkook’s anxiety builds as he sees the dragon start into a low spiral. Spotted you in the rocks. Jungkook looks down and sees a red head and a black head dancing here and there as they play a game that Jungkook’s forgotten the rules of. Looking back at Yoongi- any moment now- Yoongi will realize what’s about to happen, any moment now he’ll come to your rescue.

- But time ekes on- precious seconds- his father will be too late if he doesn’t go now. And you will die. Jungkook doesn’t think- just runs over and tugs- actually tugs on Yoongi’s sleeve.

- This time- his hand doesn’t just go through Yoongi, this time he actually touches him. “Did you want a snack?” Jungkook tugs again, because Yoongi still isn’t turning. When Yoongi turns he still sees no one there. He calls his name once, and then Hobi’s and by that time he sees, he’s jumping through the opening to fly to your aid leaving Jungkook standing in that cave.

- Jungkook feels his shoulders curl in on himself, “I want to go home- please just- take me back” and the cloud that surrounds him- what can only be magic- listens to him.

- This is different than Jimin's plant magic, the wordless sort of magic that has the world leaning in. The kind makes the world stop in place and turn around him. Every inch of intent spoken by his mouth an order that time will bow too.

- If dragons and humans are two sides of the same coin- then so are Seokjin and Jungkook.

- Jungkook wakes up- his eyes shooting open in the bubble- no whites of his eyes, only bright blue. The bubble bursts in a flash of power and light that hits you like a gale. Its only Yoongi’s quick thinking that keeps you and Hoseok from falling backward. Even Seokjin has to bring up an arm to shield his eyes from the flash of blinding light. Jungkook hits the floor with his hands out, catching himself before he falls.

- “I don’t hate you” is the first thing he says when he lifts his head, chest heaving scrambling to his feet. Running to Yoongi without a second thought tears in is eyes.

- “What- Kookie-“ Yoongi barely comprehends his youngest throwing his arms around his neck, pulling him in close tightly for a bruising hug. “it’s okay- you’re safe now Jungkook” Jungkook pulls back- a smile in his face and tears in his eyes. “Dad I really don’t- I saw it- I saw you- the night you got me- and you need to believe me- I don’t hate you.”

- “Jungkook what are you talking about,” Hoseok asks, disbelieving, so relieved to feel the soulbond back in place in his chest that he’s breathless. Jungkook looks between your faces- one after the other. Smiling so wide his nose scrunches. “I saw it- your memories, the night you found me! I was going to be a dragon hunter wasn’t I? But I wouldn’t have wanted to be. That’s why you didn’t let me fight, but I love you guys- I’d never hurt you- I understand why you did what you did and this doesn’t change a thing- I understand everything now.”

- “Well that makes one of us- is anyone going to tell me what just happened?” Hoseok snarks. “I don’t know either Hobi,” you say, shaking your head. But Yoongi is almost crying as Jungkook’s words hit him. Because how could it be? how does he know? and does he really understand? His first instinct is to believe that Jungkook couldn't. but then, when he sees Jungkook’s face, sad- but not angry- not at Yoongi at least, all of the fight going out of him.

- That’s the second time Jungkook ever sees his father cry. Touching his cheek and pulling him in. “My little hatchling I-“ he’s at a loss for words, something that feels like pride and hope clawing its way- vicious and golden up through his chest.

- Yoongi’s arms reach out- tugging the four of you close- he can barely get his arms around you all- the three people that matter the most in the world to him. All in one spot. Yoongi holds onto the three of you tighter, like his own arms will be enough to shield them from the horrors of the world.

- Besides all of you Seokjin falls to his knees, his eyes unable to leave Jungkook. Uneven breath heaving in his chest- his focus- his whole world narrowing down to Jungkook too.

- “I’m not- I’m not alone- I can’t believe it- I-”

- The four of you look up where Seokjin sits, pulling himself over on his knees his trembling hands reaching out for Jungkook. A part of you that feels fiercely protective wants to reach out and stop him from touching your son- too soon after having him in mortal peril. “Seokjin- what do you mean?” beside you, Hoseok straightens up; letting out a small sigh of relief- this has been a stressful 30 minutes- that’s for certain.

- “Hold out your arm Jungkook” Jungkook does, where once his forearms had been bare, now a light hovers below his skin. a line of brilliantly glowing blue the length of his forearm. The magic wand embedded in his skin where it will sit for the end of time- or until Jungkook dies- whichever comes first.

- The veins in his arms glowing too- taking the magic to the rest of his body. Not rejecting it at all- but growing to accommodate the magic, which has chosen Jungkook as his host.

- The four of you huddle around him, and when Hoseok tries to reach out and touch it too- a little bolt of lightning sparks and shocks him he flinches But reaches forward again- in awe anyway. Pleased to find the same thing doesn’t happen the second time when he clenches the hand of his soul-bonded partner.

- “If you where human bonding with the wand would have killed you” Seokjin’s hands are soft on Jungkook’s arm as he traces the line of the wand almost lovingly. “What does it mean” Jungkook breathes, the wand feels Bulging and hard underneath Jungkook’s skin not uncomfortable, but not pleasant either.

- “It means that you’re not human Jungkook- you’re a sorcerer like me.”

I know times are tough on all of us, but if you like reading my stories please donate to my Kofi to help support my work!

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salt-warrior · 3 years

Note

Could you write a small au where Kai and cinder are sitting next to each other on a plane and Kai offers her one of his earbuds and she really like his music and then a slower song comes on and she falls asleep on his shoulder. Please? Thanks!!

Thanks for the request love! Happy Valentine’s Day-- I hope this, and the playlist (Kai’s Airplane Jams) makes your day just a little extra special.

Moonlight Kiss

Summary: Cinder and Kai sit next to each other on a plane and share music. (WC: 1.7k)

Kai eased back into his seat, a smile creeping onto his face as he observed the people bustling about on the plane, tucking suitcases into overhead carriers and spreading blankets over laps. He had always enjoyed flying and knowing that he would soon be thousands of feet in the air sent an exhilarating feeling through him. The wonder of looking out a window and seeing clouds was simply magical, creating the illusion of being somewhere other than Earth. Although, he wouldn't get much of a view of the clouds on this flight, seeing how he'd gotten stuck with the aisle seat.

He pulled out his phone and dragged his earbuds out of his pocket, grunting as he untangled the white cords. But the soft thrum of the drums in The Cure's "Just Like Heaven" brought an instant smile to his face. He had to resist the urge to jump into full-on dance mode, complete with shimmy and all.

A hand tapped his shoulder, and Kai flinched, bursting out of his own world and back into the present. A pretty girl smiled sheepishly at him, her messy dark hair falling out of its ponytail and framing her face in a mesmerizing manner.

"Hi," Kai said, pulling out an earbud.

"Sorry," the girl said. "I'm in the seat next to you, and I didn't want to interrupt your, um, dance party by shoving my butt in your face."

Kai grinned, then stood from his seat and allowed for her to move past him. She thanked him graciously, immediately buckling her seatbelt and staring out the window. Kai settled down once more, but didn't replace his earbud, curiosity nagging at him as he watched this girl.

Her knees bounced with a frenetic energy that almost made Kai anxious despite his complete comfort with airplanes. At first he wondered if she was cold, seeing how her only attire was a black tank-top and exercise leggings, but her arms were free of goose pimples and she did not wrap her arms around herself in the way one devoid of warmth might.

"Have you flown before?" Kai asked, pulling the second bud from his ear and twisting the cord around his cellular device.

"No," the girl shook her head, biting on her lower lip. She did not turn to face him, but rather continued to stare out at the people below preparing the flight, stained in rain-speckled uniforms and carrying luminous batons.

"Oh," Kai responded, not entirely sure what to say next. "Are you, um, nervous?" Kai asked, his voice tinted with nerves of his own, but for reasons not associated with the prospect of being airborne.

The girl laughed, then swiveled around to face him, though her face was pale and her eyes remained tinged with unease. "Just a bit," she sighed.

"Well, don't," Kai said, then grimaced. "I mean, it's not bad— really. I've flown loads of times, and I've never had anything other than smooth sailing. Er, flying, I guess," he blustered, heat flooding his cheeks. "Also, I'm Kai, by the way."

"Cinder," the girl smiled, taking his outstretched hand in her own and shaking. "I just don't really know what to expect. I mean, I've seen it all in movies, but I just..." she trailed off, her eyes wide and cautious.

"Well, there will be a lot of annoying instructional videos telling you how to fasten your seatbelt," Kai said, ticking it off on his finger. "Then they'll announce that we're taking off. We'll speed down the runway, jump off into the sky— which makes your stomach do that whole fluttery laughing thing— then we'll fly and fly and fly until we reach our destination."

"Very instructional," Cinder rolled her eyes, though there was a certain lack of menace in the act.

"As you can tell, I'm an expert on the subject," Kai chuckled. "So let me know if you have any questions." He saluted her, to which she responded with two rapid blinks and a grunt.

Kai's innards squirmed uncomfortably, and he wished that there was someone there to kick him. He was generally good with people— it's what made him such a good journalist. People enjoyed talking to him. But somehow this girl made all his people skills fly right out the window, which allowed for derpy weird Kai to take control and make a complete and utter fool of himself.

Minuted passed in silence, and Cinder returned to looking out the window, her legs bouncing and her face contorted with anxiety. Kai tried to ignore her, putting in his earbuds once more, and not taking them out even as the captain of the flight, Carswell Thorne, announced that they would be taking off momentarily. He allowed for the words of Elvis Costello in his song "She" to flood all his thoughts and emotions, conjuring up distant memories long gone to the past.

It wasn't until the plane picked up speed down the runway that Kai could no longer ignore the girl who made him flustered. She grabbed his hand, her eyes wide and panicked, her knuckles white. Kai stared at her, unsure of what to do. Then, as if in a haze, he took out his right earbud and stuck it in her ear, brushing the loose hair around her face out of the way with a soft caress.

She blinked, then, after a few moments, all the tension left her body. The plane lifted off the runway and was airborne, but she watched Kai all the while, silent as ever, but unwavering in her gaze. Kai stared back, unsure whether he should talk to her or simply remain in this catatonic state. Finally he decided on turning up his palm, allowing for her fingers to intertwine with his own.

"It's okay," Kai said, squeezing her hand. The song had changed to "God Only Knows" by the Beach Boys, filling their ears with soft keys and percussion.

As if coming out of a haze, Cinder suddenly shook her head and dropped Kai's hand. "Sorry," she said, cringing.

"It's no problem," Kai replied, aiming for nonchalance but erring more on the side of mumbling.

She moved to take the earbud out of her ear, but Kai stopped her, saying, "Keep it. The Beach Boys soothe all."

Cinder let out a nervous laugh, but dropped her hand back into her lap. She turned away from Kai, settling her hands in her lap, but twisting them together in a way that looked rather uncomfortable.

"Why are you flying to Denver," Kai asked, too curious not to ask.

Cinder tensed, shutting her eyes for a moment before she responded. "Because it's not Portland."

"Huh," Kai said, itching to question further but sensing from her tone and body language that this was somewhat of a touchy subject. "I'm just going for the weekend, to visit my father for his birthday. Actually, it's sort of a surprise. I didn't think I'd get time off work, but..." Kai trailed off, watching her profile. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was breathing in a slow, purposeful manner.

He decided that perhaps conversation was not helping to ease her flight-associated anxiety and shut up. Through all his many flights, he'd sat next to a large sum of people who found the whole ordeal frightening, but they'd always engaged in friendly conversation with him and been fine. But Cinder was terrified in a way that Kai wasn't equipped to deal with.

Letting out a sigh, Kai melted back into his seat, staring at the screen in front of him. He never much liked watching movies on planes— he could never see what was going on, and the sound quality was always coming in and out. And besides, his music was plenty, allowing for him to feel as if he were in a dream or movie as the clouds soared around him.

The song changed, and beside him, Cinder perked up, her head tilting to the side. "Moonlight Kiss?" She asked, her brow furrowing. "You listen to Bap Kennedy?"

Kai laughed, tossing his phone meditatively between his palms. "It's in a movie— Serendipity...?" Kai raised an eyebrow but Cinder only frowned. "Uh, well, it's really good. This whole playlist is just a compilation of songs from my favorite movies. It makes me feel as if I'm... living in them, I guess."

Cinder nodded her head, a smile creeping up her cheeks. "I love this song," she whispered, closing her eyes once more. She said nothing more, but Kai turned on his phone and placed the song on repeat. And when the song ended and started again, she let out a soft sigh.

Kai allowed himself to fall into the moment of the song, imagining himself wandering around New York, hand in hand with the woman he loved as the snow fell around them. He pictured the Christmas lights and the ice skating rink and the smell of frozen hot chocolate and the way the whipped cream melted on one's tongue.

A slight pressure upon Kai's shoulder jolted him from this reverie, and he turned his head to discover that Cinder had fallen asleep. Her mouth was open just a little, and her hair came about her face. Kai couldn't help but smile at her peaceful features, keeping perfectly still so as not to wake her from this slumber.

He closed his eyes once more, reveling in the feeling of her asleep on his shoulder for reasons he couldn't quite understand, unable to sleep. He fell back into the world of Serendipity as "Moonlight Kiss" played again and again, imagining himself wandering the streets of New York, with this girl by his side, wishing to live forever in a night like this.

Tags: @healing-winston-pratt @storysaremyreality @thelunarchronicles-kaider @kaiderforever @invisiblebobs @cindersnightmare @cinderswrench @cindersassasin @jacihayle @alysendria @kaider-is-my-otp @random-thoughts-hq @just2bubbly @theviolettulip @cardangreenbriariloveyou @winterrhayle @arushahisatroll @bookpapaya @joslyne-thinks-thoughts @impossiblesuitcase @horton-hears-a-who @lunar-greywaren-24601 @idkchatie @whyask @idkwhattosayaboutit @shipandrunforit @l1ghtworm @daisyjohnsonquake @jeeya03 @strawberry-seraph @steffes5268 @rosedeleca @yejidoesthings @hackergeniuscress @shellyseashell @lemonpietrick @notarie37 @lani-sleeps @f-r-o-p @channary @wanterwolf @lazydreamlandblaze @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover (let me know if you want to be added or removed<3)

#anon #kaider #tlc #the lunar chronicles #lunar chronicles #marissa meyer #prince kai #emperor kai #linh cinder #selene blackburn #kaider fanfiction #tlc fanfiction #salt warrior stories #requests #au

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thefloorisbalaclava · 4 years

Text

pairing: frankie ‘catfish’ morales x f!reader

warnings: SMUT - some cheesy dirty talk, unprotected sex, you being ridiculously turned on by how good frankie is at flying and his hands

a/n: for my lovely competence kink anon. i realized that i did have reader call frankie “my pilot” in pragma during sex at some point so i guess i have thought about it before lol.

also i know that the term flyboy is typically used for the air force but bear with me :)

It was the first time he had taken you flying since you’d been dating. He had been so excited but you were terrified as you climb into the helicopter and sat in co-pilot's seat. That fear all seemed to go away when he climbed in and moved in very close to you. You looked up at him and he smiled before looking down and putting the harness on you correctly.

There seemed to be buckles and belts coming from all over, but it made you feel safer. Doubly so because his hands moved expertly throughout all the buckling and adjusting. It also turned you on a ridiculous amount when he kissed you as he tightened the last belt of the harness against you, his hand wrapped around the belt in the most delightful way.

“All safe and snug,” he said, brushing his nose against yours before slipping a headset over your ears. Then he sat in his own seat and buckled himself in. You watched once again. His hands moved quickly and smoothly, his fingers grabbing and pulling and…

“Can you hear me, babe?” he asked over the headset and you nodded.

“Loud and clear,” you said, looking at him. He took your hand and kissed it before letting it go to work on the controls. He explained things as he went along and, god, even his voice over the headset was driving you crazy. Hearing him talk about something he loved so much and knew so much about turned you on more than anything ever should.

And there goes his hands again—flipping switches, pressing buttons—and you wondered what it would be like to have those fingers in your mouth right now.

“Ready?” he asked, snapping you out of your fantasy.

“Yes, sir.”

He gave a thumbs up to a man standing a little way away from the helicopter. You hadn’t even noticed him. Too busy being fascinated by Frankie’s hands which he now had wrapped around the throttle and you swallowed hard.

“This right here…” He reached between your legs. Oh great. “…is a cyclic pitch stick. Those are your pedals.” He pointed down to your feet.

“I’m not touching a thing,” you told him and he laughed.

“We’ll be okay. Come on.” He placed his hands over yours and brought them to the pitch stick. “Here we go.” Next thing you knew, you were airborne. You kept your hands still as you watched him move his hands slightly. There were no sudden, wild maneuvers involved, but it was still fascinating watching the way his hands flexed ever so gently.

His voice came to you over the headset again. “Doing okay?”

“I’m great.” You smiled over at him and he winked. Fuck. He wanted you to try a few things, but you wanted to sit back and watch him work expertly. Even when he pointed things out to you, you found yourself staring more at his hands than the view.

His hands flexed on the pitch stick and you bit your lips as it made the veins in his arms even more prominent. If he didn’t land soon, the evidence of your arousal would soak right through your pants onto the seat.

He said a few things over the headset that you didn’t understand a word of but you realized he was talking to whomever was waiting for him to land. You asked him to explain it to you just so you could hear him talk some more.

Once he landed, he took off his headset then took yours.

“How was that?” he asked, unbuckling himself to help you.

“I loved it.”

“Good.” He kissed you gently and began working on your harness, his hands brushing against your breasts and thighs innocently though you felt you were about to explode. “There we go.” He hopped out the helicopter first then helped you down, holding onto you much longer than necessary. “Ready to go home?” he asked.

Were you ever…

Now here you were, on top of him, his expert hands touching, playing with, caressing you. You brought one of his hands to your mouth so you could suck on two of his fingers. He cursed lowly beneath you, watching his fingers slide in and out of your mouth as you rode him.

You felt like you were flying and he was your pilot, guiding you gently even as his fingers dug into your thighs.

“Mmm my pilot…” you whimper.

“Yeah?” he breathed; his voice ragged.

“Fuck…yeah.” You nodded as he sat up, kissing you roughly. “You’re so fucking good.”

“At this or at being a pilot?” he joked, laughing quietly against your lips.

“Both. You make me feel like I’m flying.”

“That’s fucking hot and…cheesy all at once.” He chuckled at your pout but his eyes widened when you pushed him down and held him there by his shoulders.

“Fuck me, flyboy.”

With a rakish grin, he flipped you over so that he was on top, and wasted no time in setting his pace. “Is this what you want?” He pushed himself deep and grind his hips against you.

“Frankie yes!”

“Want me to make you fly, huh?” Another slap of his hips against you.

You threw your head back. “Yes…god…you fucking…”

“Pilot?” He grinned down at you.

“Hottest fucking pilot ever.” You groaned when he pushed into you again nice and deep. He snuck a hand between your legs and touched you with those fingers you couldn’t stop watching earlier. They worked on you just as well as they worked on all those buttons and switches. You looked over at the arm he used to hold himself over you and noticed the veins, strained and bulging just as they were when he was holding the throttle or pitch stick. You cried out as you hit your peak, grabbing his arm as you arched off the bed. He let out a low groan as he followed, taking his hand from between your legs to his mouth as his hips gave a few more quick thrusts then stop, pushing as deep as he could.

You came back down to earth together. His hands continued to touch and caress you until you took one and slipped his thumb into your mouth. He hissed and had to pull out of you.

Taking his thumb from your mouth, he traced your lips with it. “You really like my hands, huh?”

“Love them.” You sighed and rolled onto your side to look at him. “Watching you fly today…turned me on,” you confessed.

“What?”

“You couldn’t tell? From the moment you strapped me in I was ready to take you where you sat. You’re just so good at what you do and you love it so much. That passion is…sexy.”

“Is that why you called me pilot while we…” You nodded. “I kinda liked it.” He paused. “Actually, I really liked it. I almost came when you said ‘fuck me, flyboy'.”

“You have great self-control, soldier.” You gave him a mock salute.

“Hmm…I like that one too,” he said, kissing you then pushing you onto your back again.

“What about…Francisco?” You knew exactly what you were doing.

“Oh, I like that one the most.”

“I know you do,” you giggled. “My pilot.” You ran your hands through his hair then locked your fingers together at the nape of his neck, your thumbs playing with the curls there.

“Forever. As long as you promise to be my co-pilot.”

“Of course.”

He pumped his fist in the air. “I have the hottest co-pilot in the world.”

“Well, I dunno about you, but I’m about ready to fly again.” You smiled knowingly.

“Me too. We may experience turbulence though.”

You laughed loudly. “I thought I was the cheesy one.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Okay, that’s it.” You pushed him off you and got on top of him then leaned in, nibbling at his ear before speaking. “Fuck me, flyboy.”

permanent taglist: @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @tiffdawg @cryptkeepersoul @heresathreebee @jawabear @agirllovespasta @opheliaelysia @thisis-theway @huliabitch @sammiesweet @pedropasscals

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco 'catfish' morales #pedro pascal #triple frontier #headcanon

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tlcwrites · 4 years

Text

Worth It

Summary:

Poe would never, ever forget how his mom had squeezed him ever so slightly tighter, dropped a kiss to his messy curls, and sighed, almost to herself, “This is what makes it all worth it.”

Now, on the other side of his own war, his own child snuggled securely on his lap, Poe gets it.

Word Count: 1226

Tags/Warnings: Dad!Poe; Poe Dameron/Fem Reader; pregnancy; Family Dameron adorableness out the wazoo; sooooo much fluff.

Author’s Note: So this happened because my 3-year-old son’s favorite thing to do is ‘play’ Minecraft with his dad. He will snuggle with my husband, both of them staring at that stupid computer for hours, and my husband loves it just as much as our son. Today was no exception. They got ‘creepered’ and I’m telling you, there is nothing like the sound of a toddler belly laughing to make your day better. Of course, because #me, I couldn’t stop thinking about Poe sharing his favorite hobby with his own kid. So here you go. I apologize for the typos because I wrote this in about thirty minutes, but I make no apologies for the cavities that may or may not result from consuming this fluff.

*I know there’s something about Poe’s earliest memory of flying with Shara in the Flight Log, but my copy isn’t getting here until Sunday and I was too impatient to get this done to wait for the details, so any discrepancies with canon are my fault and tbh IDGAF.

Poe’s not entirely certain what his earliest memory of his mom is; he’s pretty sure it was the first time Shara took him past atmo into space, but it’s hard to trust a toddler’s memory. Regardless, he knows his favorite.

He was four, and Shara had taken him up in her beloved RZ-1 A-wing interceptor. It wasn’t anywhere near the first time he’d flown with her, perched on her lap, her helmet completely swallowing his head but loving every second of ‘piloting’ the fighter. They flew together most days. Just keeping an eye on the neighborhood, Shara would say, with a wink for her son and a laugh as she pressed a kiss to Kes’ cheek as they clomped back into the house, breathless and euphoric from being airborne.

But that time was special. That time, Shara had woken him up before the dawn and bundled him in her worn green flight jacket, whispering that she had a surprise for him. He remembers waving to his dad, silhouetted by the porch light as the A-wing took flight, rising into the pre-dawn sky.

That was the first morning Poe had ever watched the sun rise from the air. He remembers every detail; from the condensation on the canopy of the ship, to the way the sunlight had slowly filtered over the mountains surrounding the Dameron homestead. It was breathtaking. To a four-year-old, it was life altering. And Poe would never, ever forget how his mom had squeezed him ever so slightly tighter, dropped a kiss to his messy curls, and sighed, almost to herself, “This is what makes it all worth it.”

Now, on the other side of his own war, his own child snuggled securely on his lap, Poe gets it.

Beka Dameron squeals with delight as the X-Wing bursts through the cloud cover, those same mountains still steadfast guardians around her grandfather’s ranch. Poe can’t help his grin. His daughter’s glee is infectious.

“What do you think, babygirl?” he asks the two-year-old, leaning forward and blowing a raspberry on her cheek. She giggles and he beams. “Should we chase the sunrise and bring it home to Mama?”

“Woop, Daddy!” Beka smacks the flight stick with a chubby fist. “Go woop-woop!”

“Alright, princess, one loop-loop comin’ right up.” Poe flicks a switch and drops a kiss on Beka’s curly mop. “Beebee, you heard the lady!”

From the astromech socket, BB-8 chirps their approval of this plan. Granted, there’s very little the droid wouldn’t do for any of the Damerons, but Beka’s wishes are BB’s commands.

It’s a split second, as his daughter laughs and the sunrise hits the mountain ridge just right, in the stillness before he spins the fighter into motion, that Poe is struck by the strongest sense of deja vu. His throat is suddenly tight and he has to blink rapidly because his eyes are abruptly watery.

This is what makes it all worth it.

Yeah, he definitely gets it.

Tightening his arm around his daughter, Poe whoops. Beka echoes his joyful cry, and the fighter leaps towards the dawn.

On the ground, you watch the X-wing formerly known as Black One as it dips in and out of view through the clouds. You’re positive you can hear your daughter’s giggles from where you stand, as well as her father’s throaty laugh.

Behind you, the kitchen door opens.

“How long have they been up there?” Kes asks, joining you on the porch.

“Not long.” You smile at your father-in-law. “Poe wanted to see the sunrise.”

“He’s his mother’s son, that’s for sure,” he says with an affectionate chuckle, handing you a steaming cup of nysillim tea. “Always in a better mood after starting the day in the air.”

You accept the mug with murmured thanks, both of you watching contentedly as the fighter appears once more below the morning haze.

It’s barely a moment before Poe is expertly landing the fighter in the clearing behind the house. Kes takes your mug before he helps you off the porch, and you both stroll to the makeshift flight pad. The first streams of morning light start to break through the clouds as the ship powers down.

“Mama!” Beka hollers the second the canopy lifts. “Mama, Bee bwaught you sunshine!”

“Yeah, Mama,” Poe echos, carefully tossing the toddler down into Kes’ waiting arms. Beka’s joyful shriek makes everyone smile even bigger. “Had to chase some of those clouds off.”

You laugh as Beka flops backwards in Kes’ arms, her curls dangling as she hangs upside down. You bend to kiss her forehead. “You did great, honey. Did you fly Daddy’s ship for him?”

“Yeah!” Beka giggles. “We did woop-woops!”

You turn to your husband as he scrambles down the flight ladder. “Is that so?”

“Princess, we talked about this.” Poe tickles Beka with one hand, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders. “What happens in the cockpit stays in the cockpit.”

“Oh really?” you murmur quietly.

Poe winks at you. “All woop-woops were conducted under the strictest of safety procedures, Lieutenant. General’s honor.”

BB-8, now freed from the fighter, whistles knowingly.

You raise an eyebrow.

Poe glares at the droid. “Traitor.”

“How about some Iktotch toast for breakfast?” Kes asks Beka, smoothly changing the topic before you and Poe can get going. “Pop’s got zoochberry syrup!”

Beka nearly leaps out of her grandfather’s arms. “ZOOBURYS.”

Laughing, Kes leads the way back to the farmhouse, BB-8 trailing the pair of them like a puppy. As you go to follow, Poe tugs gently on your hand, holding you back.

“You know I’d never put her in danger, right?” he asks quietly.

“Oh, Poe.” You bring a hand up to card your fingers through his hair, and he leans into your palm with a contented sigh. “Of course I know that.”

“Just making sure.” He smiles, that half smirk that is your absolute favorite. “How are you feeling?”

You take his hand and position it carefully on the swollen rise of your belly. “She’s been dancing this morning.”

“Yeah?” It only takes a moment before his eyes widen and he lets out a bark of laughter as a foot connects soundly with his palm. “She’s so strong!”

“I’m aware,” you intone wryly. “This one’s got your sass already.”

He laughs again, wisely not arguing (because it’s not like you’re wrong), instead pulling you into his arms and kissing you soundly. You stand as the sky glows from pink to blue, wrapped in each other in the early morning air, until something small hits your legs.

“DADDY. MAMA.” Beka makes the universal toddler sign for ‘up’. “Eye-tot toast! Papa says now!”

“Okay, okay, princess!” Releasing you with one last kiss to your temple, Poe scoops up your daughter, tossing her into the air before settling her on his shoulders. Grinning at you, he wraps his arm back around your shoulders, tugging you securely into his side. “Team Dameron is on the move.”

Beka’s giggles echo through the clearing as you make your way up the gentle rise towards the house. And with his wife and his daughter in his arms, and another kid on the way, Poe can’t help that tightness in his throat again. He’s not even aware of the smile on his face.

This is what makes it all worth it.

Boy, if that’s not the truth.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron fic #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron imagine #my writing #fluff #fluff alert #dad!poe #dad poe dameron #dameron family

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btsslowburnfic · 3 years

Text

Chthonic Love 22

Series Summary: A Greek Mythology AU featuring Yoongi/Suga as Hades and reader as Persephone. Olympian ruler Namjoon has delivered you, Persephone, as a gift for his brother, lord of Death, Yoongi

Chapter Summary: You and Yoongi find each other in Inferno

Previous chapter here

Yoongi gingerly stood up in the boat, monitoring the rocking. “It’s been what, a few hundred years?” He said smugly as he gazed across the icy dead-filled sea. He smirked at the arch-demon, Lucifer.

Lucifer completely stopped beating his huge leathery, causing the Cocytus Sea to fall still. His form was that of a giant Beast; the head of a dragon and the body of a griffin. His lower half was encased in an icy miasma. His taloned arms flailed and clawed at the ice, trying to drag his lower half out of the sea. “Almost a thousand. Let me out!” He roared in Anger, venom dripping from his mouth.

Yoongi stood there, he didn’t have time for this. Acting bored, he sighed. “No. I don’t think I will. Did another living being pass through here?” He attempted to remain calm.

Lucifer laughed, a deep and terrible sound. “And if someone did? Why would I tell you? You and your brother put me here to torture me.” He struggled once more, “Release Me!”

“My brother and I put you there because you fought for the Titans.” Yoongi paused; remembering the end of the Titan wars, he shuddered. “You have at least another millennia of penance.”

The dragon snarled, assessing Yoongi with his golden eyes. “Who can say the girl is still alive? Perhaps she succumbed to the wailing souls and slipped into the sea.”

Yoongi felt nauseous at the thought, and yet he knew in his heat you were still alive. He snorted in disgust at Lucifer and angrily sat down, grabbing the oars. "Then it would seem we have nothing to discuss.”

“Wait! Wait! Let me out!!!” Lucifer continued to claw at the ice. “If you release me I’ll help find that Goddess. She’s probably in the middle of the Inferno right now. You won’t be able to reach her in time.”

Yoongi bit his lip wondering what his chances were. Wondering what your chances were. Lucifer was responsible for keeping the souls in Cocytus. Was there someone else who could do it? He cursed in irritation that he had to make this decision. Why did he tell you to leave? Fuck. Lucifer has tortured thousands of mortals when he was free. He had ripped apart lesser gods and goddesses.

Yoongi sighed, “No.” He said decisively. “I’ll see you in another thousand years.” He started to row further East, feeling the temperature increase almost immediately.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” He heard the dragon roar, but it was too late. He knew you wouldn’t approve of releasing a monster, even if it meant saving you. And he hated it. Because for you, he would have done it.

--------

Beyond the Cocytus Sea lies something far more treacherous. Beyond the wailing souls and the icy waves, you will find the Inferno. Saved for the souls of tyrants, the fire is so hot that at first it feels cold. The caldera of Magma is fed through channels that run deep through the Underworld. Flames rise up through poisonous geysers , threatening to suffocate anyone who breathes the air.

It would seem this chapter in the Compendium had not been an exaggeration. You had dipped your cloak in the water of Cocytus when you saw that you were approaching the lake of fire. You wrapped the damp fabric around yourself and began to say your prayers to Athena. Silent tears fell down your face. Would the boat catch on fire? You had no way of knowing. You tried in vain to paddle against the wind, but the Cocytus breeze was unrelenting; the pull of the Inferno unyielding. You took a deep breath as the boat quietly slipped from the seawater into the lava. You waited for the boat to melt; for the wood to catch fire. It did not.

You looked around. The sky was pitch black. The surface of the Lake was molten lava. And it was so very hot. In the distance you could make out the silhouette of rock features, geysers rising and spewing noxious fumes into the air. You laid down on the bottom of the boat. It had gotten you through Cocytus, maybe you could float through Inferno.

Time passed by slowly as you felt the boat rock gently. You recounted your youth, playing with Hoseok, your mother braiding your hair, helping mortals with their gardens. Really, you had lived a good life. You hadn’t planned on coming to the Underworld. But you were happy you did. Other than today. Even then, this morning had been great. You breathed shakily as you remembered resting your back against Yoongi’s chest; his fingers exploring your body. You really thought you had a future with the Lord of the Underworld. You hadn’t thought your future was to die down here. At least not for several thousand years. They say for mortals their life flashes before their eyes before they die. Was this the same thing? The tears evaporated off your face almost as soon as they fell. Your lips began to feel exceedingly dry; unable to keep saliva in your mouth anymore. It was so hot.

To your surprise, you felt the boat suddenly and decisively change direction. Your eyes went wide as you sat up and saw a cave entrance, carved into a sheer rock wall. The mouth of the cave was dripping with magma, looking like the jaws of a fiery beast. In your heart you knew that all that lay on the other side of this entrance was nothingness. This was the end. No. Nonononono. You started trying to row against the pull.

Yoongi sailed through the rest of Cocytus easily, his powers regenerated when he paused for his chat with Lucifer. Once he entered Inferno though, the magma pushed against the boat trying to keep him out. He scanned the horizon in annoyance. What good was being the Lord of the Underworld when everything down here attempted to defy him? Annoyed, he removed his shirt and prepared to shift. He had little use for his true immortal form. The monsters that lurked in the Underworld for enough. He much preferred the comfortable form of a human. He winced in pain as he allowed the skin on his back and shoulders to rip apart.

“Ahhhh….” He cried out. It had been hundreds of years since he used his wings. The last time was in a contest with Jungkook. He had lost and swore off ever using the useless things ever again. The midnight black appendages unfolded, flanking his back. He stood up and flapped them several times. Just like riding a horse, he reassured himself. He took a deep breath and leapt up, allowing his wings to beat down against the air. He slowly became airborne.

Where were you? He flew up higher, attempting to study the flow of the magma. He saw you finally. The small boat was a few meters from the Nihil Cave. No. Anything that went into that cave became nothing. No Elysium. No Underworld. Just nothing. He swooped down, too fast too fast.

You turned your attention from the cave mouth behind you where you had heard a whooshing sound, followed by a splash. What? Your surprise turned to horror as you saw Yoongi pop up on the surface of the magma.

“Yoongi!?!” You cried, as best you could with your parched throat, trying to row over towards him.

Yoongi resisted the urge to gasp for air, keeping his mouth tightly shut. He was immortal, but he felt pain. He imagined magma down the throat would be extremely painful. He felt his skin start to burn.

“Oh my God.” You cried, seeing Yoongi’s skin melt off, revealing red and black underneath. Your eyes stung with tears. “I’m coming.” You said, but the oars wouldn’t budge.

Yoongi’s eyes widened with fear as he watched you throw the cloak to the bottom of the boat and look at him. “Persephone. No. No.” He started to swim frantically towards the boat.

You jumped in. The Compendium was right. It was cold for a split second before you felt the fire erupt around you. Fuck this was a bad idea. You swam up towards the top of the caldera. You looked around frantically when you finally surfaced. Yoongi, Yoongi, fuck this hurt. Ouch.

You felt something pull on your shoulders. “Hold on,” you heard Yoongi say gruffly. You barely had time to comprehend before you felt yourself being plucked out of the magma and soon flying over it. You didn’t have time to register being dropped unceremoniously into the row boat you could only assume was Yoongi’s.

Yoongi plopped down in front of you, breathing heavily. His wings were tattered and his human skin sloughing off his body. In their place was a mix of red and black seared flesh. He had such beautiful skin, and now it looked like burnt meat. Your eyes filled with tears not for the pain that was traveling through your own body, but for what he must be feeling.

You looked around. This vessel was between Cocytus and Inferno. You looked back over at Yoongi. "Yoongi,” you cried out. You wanted to embrace him but you weren’t sure with the condition he was in. “I can fix this. I can fix this.” You said, more to yourself than him.

“Just leave it,” he yelled. He fell to his knees, exhausted. The injured wings folded in and he took a deep breath, willing the boat to change directions. The boat slowly turned back towards Cocytus.

“Yoongi,” You slowly extended your hands towards his, trying desperately to start healing him.

“LUCIFER,” You heard Yoongi bellow. “Helps us cross and I’ll take 200 years off your sentence.”

The wind died down. You peered through the mist. Was that a dragon? You were so confused. The creature began to cackle.

“Not looking so smug now are we Yoongi?” The dragon tapped it’s claws against the ice block surrounding it’s torso.

“That’s Lord Yoongi you ungrateful bastard, now take the deal or don’t,” Yoongi cried, clutching his side in agony.

“Make it 500 years.” The dragon snapped.

Yoongi tried to stay standing, but his one leg gave out underneath him, causing him to kneel.

Lucifer bellowed. “The Lord of the Underworld kneels before me. Ahahaha. You should have accepted my help when I offered it to you.”

Fuck. You stood up, trying hard to not rock the boat. “250 year or nothing. Now help us sail back to the Stygian Sea. Now.”

Lucifer laughed, “Do you give this woman the authority to speak for you, Lord Yoongi?”

“I do,” he gritted out.

“Very well, it is done.” He inhaled and blew his icy breath, causing the boat to abruptly change it’s speed and direction, towards the Stygian sea. Yoongi collapsed onto the bottom of the boat.

“Yoongi, Oh no.” You knelt down next to him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have waited and left with Hoseok.

"Shut up. I was an idiot." Yoongi coughed. “I shouldn’t have told you to leave.”

“It’s fine. All I do is hurt people. I’ll go. It’s fine. Let me fix this.” Your body wracked with sobs as you placed your hands onto his chest.

The boast slipped back into the Stygian Sea. Sensing Yoongi’s dominion, the sea gently began to push the boat back towards the estuary.

"I'm so sorry," you sobbed. "Holly, help me," you asked as the boat approached the gates. Holly whimpered and very gently used one of his mouths to pick up Yoongi and place him gently on the black sand.

You clamored out of the vessel and threw yourself down next to him. You conjured as much energy as you could. You were used to healing flowers and plants, not people; not Olympians. "Please Yoongi. I'm so sorry. Please." you placed your hands on his arm and chest where the fire had burned him.

His skin slowly started to return, a pale patchwork at first and then a whole canvas. You continued, feeling some of his energy mixing with yours. He was coming back. He would be ok. Energy flowed out of you, a purple glow emanated into his chest and arm. Purple leaves and vines spread out over his pale skin. In exchange, flame snapped at the energy, sending a burning sensation up into your hand.

"Ow," you cried out as more tears fell involuntarily.

Yoongi tried to push your hands off him. "If it hurts stop," he coughed.

"No. I love you. I have to fix this." You pushed your hands down even harder against his protests ,the flames growing up your arms. "I can fix this." you whispered more to yourself than him. You don't know how long you stayed that way, the pain changing from sharp shooting pain to a dull throb. Before long you were exhausted, the energy barely glowing. The last thing you saw before you blacked out was a pattern of purple and clack chrysanthemums on Yoongi's chest. @sugas-bbygirl @twilight-loveer

#BTS suga #bts yoongi #bts fic #bts writing #suga bts #yoongi x reader #bts yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #suga x you #suga x reader #bts suga x reader #bts suga x you #suga x y/n

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bookstantrash · 3 years

Text

A/N: Sorry for disappearing, I promise I have not given up on this fic. Life is kinda of a mess right now. The College Entrance Exams Season has just begun, and I’ve been studying nonstop, which leaves me with little time to write and a brain overheated due to excessive studying.

Good news tho! So far, I have been accepted in the two colleges I’ve already applied for, which leaves me with just The Big Scary Exam in January which also has a second phase that is FIVE DAYS AFTER ACOSF IS RELEASED. And which is pretty much my dream college

But let’s talk about happy things. Get comfortable and enjoy the long overdue Part Four!

In which she makes a friend, Part Four

Cassian woke up in the late afternoon. After a silently breakfast with Nesta, he went to report to Devlon and go over the papers he had left piling up in his absence. Nesta had gone to her room — probably to take a bath and change out of the leathers — and he had not seen her since. He had promptly fallen asleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow, his aching muscles and wings screaming for some well deserved rest.

Cassian debated whether to knock on Nesta’s door or not as he splashed some cold water on his face. He had decided he was going to help her, he just didn’t know how to do that without seeming as if he was just following orders from Feyre. Nesta was not a burden. Would never be. At least not for him. He was going to do this right and make up for the two months he was away.

Gathering his courage, he softly knocked on her door, straining his ears to listen to something that would indicate that she was in her bedroom. When he heard nothing, not even her breathing, he remembered the stone bench. The weather was sunny — with “sunny” in Illyria meaning that the grey sky was more or less free of clouds and the cold not as unforgiving as usual. However, when he opened the front door and stepped outside, he did not see Nesta but the young Illyrian he had seen earlier, Kaelin.

Cassian stayed quiet, taking the opportunity to inspect the kid, which was so busy writing something down in a piece of paper — Cassian could see him biting his lip in concentration and pushing back a stray curl that kept falling on his eyes — that didn’t take notice of his arrival. Kaelin was a question mark that had suddenly appeared in his life. Cassian didn’t know who the Illyrian was, but if Nesta had chosen to trust him — to take him under her care when she could not deign to care for herself — then he was going to trust her decision. And he would ask Kaelin to work with him to help Nesta heal.

“You know, if you’re thinking of growing your hair maybe you should have something to tie it back” Cassian said, clearing his throat to warn Kaelin of his presence.

Kaelin almost fell from the bench in surprise, quickly raising to greet him.

“Please, there’s no need for that” Cassian pleaded, interrupting Kaelin before he did the formal salute “You are living here now, you may address me informally”.

“Yes, sir” he hesitantly answered, as if unsure if he should be treating his superior like that.

The younglings usually liked Cassian. He did teach a lot of them to fly and played with them whenever he had the chance. But Kaelin was in the phase where training got harder, tougher. When the Camp Lords started to separate those who had potential and those who would only be another number in the army.

“Isn’t it better to write inside? The bench looks uncomfortable” Cassian tried, hoping to gain the kid’s trust.

“Nesta said...she said it’s good to read out loud while you write” the tip of Kaelin’s ears turned soft pink “I didn’t want to disturb you, sir”

Nesta was teaching Kaelin how to read.

Cassian didn’t know what to do with this new information. He had really missed a lot on two months.

“I wouldn’t be woken by your voice. I usually sleep like the dead”.

“When I can actually sleep” Cassian thought. His dreams usually turned into nightmares, and he only slept well when he was near the point of passing out from fatigue. Like today.

“Oh, I see. Nesta gave me one of the military books in your living room to practice, I hope that’s fine” the young Illyrian knotted his eyebrows in confusion “She said she didn’t have any books I could read”.

“No, I don’t think she has” Cassian allowed himself a small smile, thinking about the dirty romance novels he knew Nesta liked. He didn’t think they’d have been proper for Kaelin “Feel free to take any books you like. I’ll see if I can get hold of less boring ones for you”.

“I don’t want to burden you!!” he quickly said “Really, they’re not boring. A bit hard to understand, but I usually write down the words I don’t know and Nesta helps me later”.

“It’s not a bother. I was planning to get some books for Nesta. She reads a lot and I think she may have run out of books now”.

Cassian tried to calm Kaelin, making sure it was nothing out of his way. He knew how it felt when you had nothing and people offered you things. The first time he had received a present, a solstice gift from Rhysand’s mother, he had been afraid to accept and had cried afterwards, once he was alone. He could only imagine how it was for the Kaelin. An orphan who once had some and suddenly was stripped of even the little things he had to call his own.

“You and Nesta... you seem close” he tried to appear nonchalant, laying the ground for his intention of gathering Kaelin’s aid.

“She’s nice” he answered, pushing the stray curl away again.

“How has she been? Has she been going out a lot?” Cassian cringed internally at how desperate he sounded, but he could not deny how worried he was that Nesta was not back when it was beginning to darken.

“I’ve know Nesta for two, three months at most”.

“And?” Cassian inquired.

“She does not eat much. Started going out recently” Kaelin eyed him in suspicion “I don’t know if I should be talking with you, sir, about her. I know that I wouldn’t like to have someone talking about me behind my back. Specially with someone who had left me alone for months”.

Cassian realised that, in this conversation, he was the enemy. Kaelin knew Nesta, but had no reason whatsoever to trust Cassian, ranks in the army be damned.

“I was busy. Commander stuff” he didn’t want to talk about how a civil war was most likely to happen.

Kaelin’s only answer was to raise an eyebrow in question, an act that reminded Cassian so much of Nesta that he was momentarily thrown back. Was his idea about to go down the drain before he had even tried it out?

“I wouldn’t have left if wasn’t really necessary”.

“I didn’t doubt you” Kaelin said, the corners of his mouth raising slightly.

Cauldron, he couldn’t believe how he was being played by a teenage boy.

“And I guess I know what you’re trying to do” Kaelin commented, gathering the book, tucking the piece of paper inside it and pocketing the pencil.

“If you know it, then are you willing to be my helping hand?” Cassian remembered why he usually stuck with training the younglings. They didn’t have smart comebacks.

“I cannot possibly train Nesta. I only know the basics I’ve learnt as a kid. But you sir, are a legend” Kaelin’s eyes sparked in admiration.

Mikael had told Kaelin stories about the Commander of the Illyrian armies. Of how an orphan who was supposed to be a foot soldier had the biggest killing power in Illyria’s history.

“I’m willing to do anything to make Nesta happy” Kaelin’s expression saddened “She is not doing well. And I own her my life. It’s the minimum I can do”.

“Thank you. I think she’d listen more to you than me” Cassian stretched his wings “First things first then kiddo. Could you tell me where she is? It’s getting late and she should have someone accompany her back”.

Kaelin gave him a wide smile, and before Cassian could do anything, got airborne.

“Don’t worry about it!! I always walk Nesta back!!”

And with a last goodbye shout, Kaelin flew away to meet Nesta at Cauldron knows where, leaving Cassian no option but to enter the house and get dinner ready.

~•~

To say dinner had been awkward was an understatement.

Cassian didn’t remember ever being so tongue tied before. Nesta had also kept quiet for most of the meal. Kaelin, however, did enough talking for both of them.

The kid had completely lost all shyness regarding Cassian, although he still added ‘sir’ sometimes when it seemed he was going overboard. Keeping his word to help Cassian with Nesta, Kaelin had talked nonstop about the things that had happened in those two months. Cassian learned that Nesta cooked quite well — “Illyrian culinary is different from high Fae but she learned so fast! It didn’t even feel like the food had been kept in the ice box for so long!” — and that she also knew how to sew — “She fixed all my clothes! They fit perfectly now! It feels as if they’re brand new!”.

Cassian would be pleased to just sit there and listen to Kaelin praise Nesta and tell all her hidden abilities, but he saw the way her pointed ears were getting pink and how she stuffed food in her mouth to avoid getting asked more questions. So he changed topics to Kaelin’s training, and he swore he saw Nesta silently thank him by the way her grey blue eyes softened.

The rest of the dinner run smoothly. He was also relived to see Nesta getting a second helping of food. Cassian could bet that she had not had lunch and, as a result, was starving.

He had made rice with cooked vegetables, along with fish seasoned with baniwa, a pepper based sauce. He had also left some fish without baniwa, not knowing whether Nesta liked her food spicy or not. He was happy to see that she choose the fish with the sauce and decided to stick with solid food, not taking any of the Imu Yanisa Kiyauriri he had offered, in case her stomach was not well.

After quietly washing the dishes while Nesta dried them — she had just gotten up and grabbed the kitchen rag, not sparing him a glance as she took the clean plate from his hand — Cassian locked himself in his room, hoping to get a good night’s sleep.

However, lucky was not on his side. He tossed and turned on his bed for hours, until finally giving up sleep and moving to his desk to go over the training schedule and other minor documents. Maybe work would tire him out enough to get maybe three or four hours of sleep.

Cassian was in the middle of a report regarding the preparations for the Blood Rite when he felt a shiver running down his spine. A faint sensation of panic came forth, and he was momentarily thrown back. Shrugging it off as fatigue, he turned back to the paper. But the sensation did not disappear. Had someone gotten over the wards somehow?

“Oh, screw this” he cursed, raising from his chair and opening his bedroom door.

Looking in the living room’s direction, he saw Kaelin completely passed out in the couch, sleeping on his stomach, his wings twitching in his sleep and drooling. The kitchen was clear as well, the same with the outdoor patio and the bathroom. The sensation got fainter, and he almost gave up when he walked by Nesta’s bedroom.

Cassian felt that panic rise within him once again. Felt that sensation of dread and helplessness knock him with full force. Without thinking, he opened her door, all reason flying out of his head to knock or call her from outside. Once inside, the first thing he notice was how cold the room was. She had not lit the fireplace, but it for sure was not due to lack of firewood. Why had she chosen to bury herself under multiple fur blankets then?

Second thing he took notice of was that said blankets had been thrown to the floor. And that Nesta was painting, fists tightly closed beside her body.

“Nesta...” Cassian breathed, slowly approaching the bed. He could see her eyes moving frantically under eyelids. The sensation was stronger now, threatening to consume him. He could not imagine how Nesta felt. Tried not to think why he also felt it.

“No...get away...” she murmured feverishly in her sleep “Take me. Take me instead”

Cassian smelled smoke, and he realised that Nesta’s fists were burning the sheets were they touched, her skin damp with sweat.

“Ness....” Cassian knew that you should not wake up someone when they were having a nightmare, not when they were letting their power lose. That indicated that the person had lost all sensation of reality and imagination, and could hurt whoever approached them. But Cassian could not see her suffering and just do nothing.

Gently, he kneeled beside her bed, and tentatively run his thumb across her forehead.

“You’re safe Nesta. Breath.” he murmured, bringing his other hand to her clenched fists, squeezing in reassurance, the fire around them not hurting him.

“It’s my fault...my fault” she whimpered, and sorrow and guilty hit Cassian just like earlier.

“Shhh.... Nobody can harm you” his thumb kept caressing her, trying to transmit comfort through his touch.

“I’m sorry...” she took a sharp breath, and Cassian could feel she tremble slightly.

“Nesta. Nesta.” he willed her hand to open, clutching it on his “Hush now xe r-endy, I’m here. Îebyr pe ixê.”

He kept talking in Illyrian, and she started to calm down, her breath coming in regularly and some tension leaving her body.

“That’s it sweetheart. You’re safe” Cassian tucked the blankets over Nesta, getting her comfortable.

“Cassian...stay” she grabbed his hand, eyes half open and laced with sleep, her strange and mysterious power faintly shinning on them.

“I will stay until you fall asleep” he replied.

And Cassian spent the rest of the night and early morning sitting on her bedroom floor. Holding her hand. And when the first of rays of sunlight appeared, he let go of her hand.

And he left Nesta’s room.

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030-blog @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal

{Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list.}

#sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm fanfic #sjm fandom #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #cassian x nesta

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toosicktoocare · 4 years

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Prompt: Batfam prompt coming your way if you want it! Entirely up to you! How about Dick goes out with a cold/flu/fever, because he cares more about the people he's saving than himself, and Jason and Tim have to catch him, beat the bad guys, and bring Dick home to rest and get alllll sorts of brotherly love?

It’s the drool that wakes Tim, the uncomfortable dampness pooling at the corner of his mouth. He comes to slowly, consciousness bringing with it an evident twinge across his lower back. A groan grows deep in his throat, wakefulness reminding him that he’s been hunched over a computer in the Cave for hours, leaving him feeling far older than he actually is. He contemplates nodding back off, fleeing from the lingering need for caffeine, but then there’s a scoff too close to his face, and he cracks an eye open to see Damian frowning at him.

“You’re repulsive, Drake.”

Tim sits up with a yawn and narrows his eyes into a dull glare, too tired to hold much heat across his eyes. He throws his arms over his head, lacing his fingers and arching his back into a much-needed stretch. “At least I’m not a demon spawn.”

Damian scoffs and pulls off his domino, a small yawn slipping past his lips.

“Did you just get back?”

“Father and I returned twenty-three minutes ago.”

Tim slumps back against the chair, working around the small, admitting thought that he actually needs to sleep in a real bed for more than an hour if he wants to continue operating as a human. He rubs at his bleary eyes. “How was it? Quiet?”

“Our territory was. We bumped into Grayson about an hour ago. He was tipped off about a potential metahuman ring.”

Tim hums, eyes slipping shut, but then his sleep-riddled mind clears, and he jerks forward, eyes flying open. “Wait, what? Dick’s out?” He scans the room, noticing a distinct lack of Nightwing material.

“Of course he’s out.” Damian’s voice is annoyingly matter of fact, and Tim hops to his feet and crosses his arm, frown sharp.

“Damian, he’s sick.”

“Grayson is more than capable of working through illness, Drake. He’s been trained to withstand—”

“—anything. Yeah, I know,” Tim finishes, a worried bite to his tone. Bruce trained all of his bats to withstand illness, to work through ailments, to find an inner balance between exertion and fatigue. Still, he had checked Dick’s fever earlier, and it was worryingly high, resting at 102.3 degrees. He also knew that Dick was itching to explore the anonymous tip about the metahuman ring, and Tim had meant to keep Dick from leaving. Falling asleep over a large monitor was not a part of his nightly plans.

He leans over and taps into the comms on the computer, only faintly aware of Damian slipping up behind him. “Red Robin to Nightwing.” He waits, scanning the connection, waiting for a quiver in the flat audio line. “Come in, Nightwing.”

“He’s probably busy, Drake, making himself useful unlike—”

“Shut it,” Tim spits out, whipping a sharp glare over his shoulder before turning back to the computer. “Dick, answer the damn comm.”

There’s a drawn-out rasp of a breath that flicks across the audio line, a few, harsh coughs following. “Language, little wing.”

Tim wants to feel relieved, but Dick sounds exhausted, winded, his voice cracking and an octave lower than usual. “Jesus, Dick! What the hell are you doing?”

Dick sighs over the comm, and Tim taps loudly at the computer until he’s pulling up a visual of Dick sagged against a wall, chest heaving deeply as if he’s just run a marathon.

“I’ve got to look into this, Tim. A second tip came in. There’s movement at the shipping dock— very large boxes that are being transported to the warehouse that’s housing the metahuman ring.”

Tim taps a few more keys, pulling up a vitals scan that shows Dick’s temperature elevated to 102.6 degrees. “Dick, your fever’s rising. You need to—”

“I’ll be quick; I swear. I’ve gotta run.”

The comm goes dead, and Tim can see Dick pulling the earpiece from his ear and slipping it into his utility belt. He watches a moment longer, eyes studying Dick’s surroundings, each street sign, each flickering streetlight, until he swipes off the feed and whips around, moving past Damian to suit up.

“You’re going out?”

“Someone has to drag his stupid ass back here.” Tim exhaustion is teasing at his mind, and he shakes his head as he begins to dress into his uniform.

“I’ll go—”

“—straight to bed,” Tim finishes, arching one brow, daring Damian to argue.

“Drake, you do not have the authority to order me around. Do you honestly think you’re capable of bringing Grayson back alone?”

“No,” Tim admits, fiddling with the comm in his ear before pulling his attention down to his phone. “He’s too bull-headed.”

“Well, what’s your plan then, Drake?”

“I call in someone even more bull-headed.

***

Tim swallows back a flinch when Jason drops down beside him with a loud thump, having travelled by roof apparently.

“Replacement.”

“Hood,” Tim greets, matching Jason’s tone, eyes trained to the warehouse across the street.

“You sent out an SOS.”

“I did.” Tim narrows his eyes, domino moving along the sharp movement. He pulls his gaze upward until he spots a familiar tuft of dark hair peering over the edge of the roof. “You made good time.”

“Because you sent out an SOS,” Jason presses.

“Worried?” Tim asks, arching one brow, and Jason swats him hard on the back of the head.

“In your dreams, Replacement. I was hoping to come in guns a-blazing.” Jason ghosts his hands over the guns in his holsters, fingers itching for a need to shoot.

“You’ll get your chance,” Tim mutters, nodding toward the roof. “First, we have to stop this idiot.”

“This is Dick Brain’s territory,” Jason reminds Tim flatly, eyes slowly following Dick’s careful movements on the roof. “Why are we—” He stops when Tim patches an audio message that reads out Dick’s vitals, his frown deepening along each word. “Okay,” he drags out. “Point taken. What’s the plan?”

“I’m kind of making it up as I go,” Tim admits, standing from his crouch. He pulls out his grapple hook and aims it toward the edge of the roof, close to Dick’s peering face. He pulls the trigger and waits for the weightless tug.

“That’s my type of plan.”

Tim hears Jason laughing behind him as he shoots forward, going airborne, wind whipping tightly around him until he’s barrel rolling onto the roof, with Jason landing on his feet beside him mere seconds later.

Tim’s quick to dodge the sudden swing of a baton at his head, stumbling backward against Jason’s chest, and Jason’s a lot faster, reaching over Tim’s shoulder, fingers snagging Dick’s wrist mid second swing.

“Easy, dumbass. Are you trying to smash your baby bro’s head in?” Jason’s growl is deep in Tim’s ear, and Tim stills, watching carefully as it takes longer than it should for Dick’s face to fall into recognition.

“Jay…?” Dick turns to cough into the crook of his arm, harsh, grating coughs that leave Tim wincing as he pulls for another vital scan, finding Dick’s temperature tipping toward 103 degrees.

“Good to see you too, Dickie Bird.” Jason mutters, and Tim slips toward Dick, pressing a hand to his shoulder, Dick’s muscles shaking under his palm.

“Dick, you need to go back to the manor. At this rate, you’re going to need an IV.” Tim keeps his voice steady, but when Dick jerks away from him, he frowns, making to step forward only not able to when Jason wraps an annoyingly strong arm around his waist.

“Tim, don’t, you can’t…” Dick’s coughing again, and Jason’s dragging Tim backward despite Tim’s thrashing.

“Jason, what the hell?”

“No spleen. Remember?” Jason pokes at Tim’s side, and Tim sighs loudly, slumping against Jason’s grip.

“Dick will listen to you,” Tim tries, twisting around to face Jason, mind plotting through his sporadic plan. “All he wants is to make things better between you both.” He keeps his voice quiet, studying Jason’s covered frown and narrow eyes that are glued to Dick.

“What’s happening in the warehouse?”

“Metahuman trafficking,” Tim answers, and Jason tenses before him, just as Tim expected he would.

Tim could have taken Damian; hell, he could have made Bruce come, but Jason’s the key. Aside from the fact that Dick would drop just about anything if it means he can mend another thread of he and Jason’s frayed relationship, Tim’s also acutely aware of Jason’s violent need to protect Gotham’s youth, hitting too close to home of a damaged childhood.

There’s also, Tim thinks, the small fact that Jason will do anything for Dick, even if he’d never admit it out loud. Tim knows. Dick was, and always will be, who Jason looks up to the most.

“You play dirty,” Jason growls, catching onto Tim’s reasoning. He slips both guns from his holsters, aiming one at Dick’s forehead. “Stay here, dumbass.”

“Wait, Jay—”

“Did I stutter?” Jason bites out, cocking a brow. He waits for Dick to argue, and predictably, Dick doesn’t, instead sagging to the ground as if his legs can no longer support his weight.

“Good,” he mutters, pulling a sharp gaze to Tim. “Ready to go fuck up some motherfuckers?”

“You’re the only person who can make that sentence sound decent.” Tim brings out his bo staff, fingers tightening around it, his lips curling into a smile that almost matches the wild one Jason’s wielding.

“Ha. Guns a-blazing time?”

Nodding, Tim watches as Jason leaps off the roof, and he spares a glance to see Dick curled in on himself, shaking and coughing, before he leaps off, hoping to end this as soon as possible.

***

Tim shoots a grapple hook back up to the roof when GCPD arrives, flying forward and finding Dick asleep, face scrunched up in a clear show of pain that Tim frowns out. He takes the brief moment free of Jason’s strong grip to crouch before Dick, feeling his forehead, hand slipping down to check his pulse. His vital scan report isn’t any worse than before; however, it’s not any better either.

“Geez, Dick,” Tim mumbles under his breath, waiting for the familiar arm around his waist when Jason finally makes it up to the roof. He moves with Jason, not wishing to start a second struggle, not when Dick’s the main priority.

Jason nudges Dick with his boot, and Dick stirs under the touch, coughing sharply, a gravely groan following. “Jay…”

“He’s completely out of it,” Jason mutters, frowning, and Tim swallows back the sudden jerk of panic threatening to climb up his throat. Jason sounds worried, and that alone leaves Tim afraid.

“We should get him back. Can you…?”

“You want me to carry him all the way back to the manor?” Jason spits out, both brows arched into a high curve. “Not happening.”

“I could call Bruce,” Tim starts, forcing away the smile that wants to stretch across his lips at the narrow glare Jason shoots him. “But once I mention that you’re with me, he’ll be here in minutes. You probably won’t make it around the block before he shows up.”

Jason’s hands curl into fists at his sides. Tim holds his stare, unfazed by the sheer annoyance behind Jason’s domino, and finally, Jason breaks with a long, loud groan, turning to hoist Dick onto his back with a grunt.

“Really fucking dirty, Replacement.”

***

Alfred helps get Dick set up with an IV in med-bay, the older man working wordlessly diligently, worried but not vocalizing as much. Tim assists when needed, keeping one eye on Dick but the other on Jason, who’s been eerily silent in the corner of the room, watching, a frown etched sharply across his lips.

“Are you going to tell Bruce?” Tim asks quietly when Alfred finishes.

“Master Bruce already knows,” Alfred informs, briefly flicking his gaze toward Jason. “Out of respect, he’ll keep his distance for a few hours.”

Tim translates in his head: Bruce doesn’t want to scare Jason off. He nods, thankful, and the second Alfred slips out of the room, he shuffles over to the bed and drops onto it, waving off the hiss of his name from Jason as he curls into Dick’s side.

“I take medicine, you know. Daily. To prevent shit.”

“Tell that to literally every single infection that’s knocked you on your ass for days since saying adios to your spleen,” Jason grunts, dragging a chair close to Dick’s bed. “Don’t expect me to play nursemaid when you get sick.”

Tim lifts his head, eyes flat. “That mere thought is going to make me sick.”

“Ditto.”

Tim whips his gaze down to see Dick blinking slowly at him, a small, lazy smile pulling at his lips. He’s faintly aware that Jason’s shot to the edge of his seat and his leaned forward, putting himself closer to the bed.

“Dick? How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m going to get you sick,” Dick grumbles, and Tim rolls his eyes, tucking himself back down against Dick’s side.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Famous last words, kid,” Jason mutters, leaning back and propping his feet onto the edge of Dick’s bed, smiling easily at the tired, yet annoyed look Dick shoots him.

“The metahumans…”

“All safe,” Jason responds, thumbing at the book resting in his lap. “GCPD’s on it.”

Dick’s face relaxes, a deep sigh releasing through parted lips. “Thank you.” He shifts, wrapping his arm around Tim’s back, pulling his brother closer to him. “Are you staying?” he asks, nodding to the book in Jason’s lap.

“Until I’m sure you aren’t taking a page out of my book.”

Dick’s eyes drag up to the ceiling, the muted weight behind Jason’s words pushing against his chest, a reminder that Jason will always process his death and resurrection, not something he can resolve. “Will you read to me?”

“What are you, ten?” Jason teases, arching a single brow, a challenge that Dick takes with an innocently large bat of his lashes.

“You won’t read to your dear, sick brother?”

“So cruel, Jay,” Tim mutters, voice edging toward sleep.

“Oh, fuck off,” Jason groans, flipping open The Hobbit. “I hate both of you.” He scans the first sentence, whipping a quick gaze back toward the two. “No interrupting. I haven’t read this yet.” He starts reading, voice lightening as he loses himself in the book, and he makes it seven pages in before he spares a glance to see Dick and Tim sleeping, faces annoyingly soft and innocent. A smile he doesn’t fight pulls at his lips, and he closes the book and nudges his chair closer to the bed until he can hunch over, pillowing his head on the edge of Dick’s bed. He’s certain his back will curse his entire being when he wakes, but for now, he’ll take the twinge of discomfort for this silent, almost vulnerable, moment with the birds…

With his brothers.

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a-blue-secret · 3 years

Text

I Would Have Loved You

g: angst, non-idol universe, this is kinda sad (as in like '😭' sad but i don't think it's that bad so idk)

pairing: taegyu

wc: 1465

warnings: heavily referenced suicide

an: this was basically me trying to remember how to write angst..so it's kinda sad. just a lil bit. not a lot, i don't think....

summary: taking a deep breath, taehyun returned his gaze to the sky, watching the clouds drift peacefully, unaware of the struggles and hardships of human life. soon he, too, would no longer have to deal with those struggles. just one more step. and then i can be happy. right?

Taehyun looked at his phone, sighing. No one was replying to him, again. His messages had been delivered, and some of them had even been read, but no one replied. But Taehyun didn't really care anymore. In fact, it just made him more determined.

Taehyun unlocked his phone, staring at his wallpaper. It was an image of the sea, white-tipped waves crashing against jagged rocks. Much like the waves below him right at that moment. He stared at the image for a long moment, before locking his phone again. And with one quick, clean flick of his wrist, his phone went plummeting down into the frothy sea below.

He peered down as it fell, in an almost detached, unemotional way. The phone bounced off the parts of the cliff that jutted out, cracked pieces of plastic occasionally flying off. His facial expression didn't change, watching blankly as it disappeared into the depths of the sea. That phone didn't really matter to him anymore. What was the point of a communication device if no one communicated with you?

Taking a deep breath, Taehyun returned his gaze to the sky, watching the clouds drift peacefully, unaware of the struggles and hardships of human life. Soon he, too, would no longer have to deal with those struggles.

Just one more step. And then I can be happy. Right?

Taehyun bit his lip, hesitating. Was he sure he wanted to do this?

But then his face darkened. He had nothing left he wanted to keep, anyway. He wasn't going to be leaving anything behind. It didn't matter whether he was in the world or not. So why should he stay?

With that final thought, he steeled his nerves. One foot shuffled forward. Then the other. And soon, he was teetering on the edge of the cliff, small pieces of rubble tumbling down before being swallowed by the waves below. One wrong gust of breeze and he'd fall right over. He raised his eyes to look at the horizon, where the bright blue sky met the dark blue sea. The sun sparkled invitingly over the waves, creating small, white stars in between the crests. It was a beautiful sight. A small smile tugged at his lips. At least his death would be made by such an extraordinary being like the sea. With the small smile on his face, Taehyun leaned forward.

And jumped.

In that millisecond he was airborne, he heard a voice yelling behind him, and turned his head.

"No, stop! Don't do it!"

But by the time he registered what the words were, he was no longer on the cliff. He was falling, falling, falling– already plunging down to the waves below. Taehyun watched as a hand shoved itself over the edge, as if telling him to grasp it.

Down, down, down. The salt stung his skin as he fell, the hand still stretched out in his direction. But Taehyun didn't take it. There was no point, anyway. He was too far away and plus, he didn't want to live anymore. He had no reason to live anymore. He saw no point in doing something that he no longer had a reason to do.

Besides, he was too far. Even if he wanted to, it would be too late. There was no changing his mind now.

So Taehyun just watched the hand retreat, replaced by the scared, panicked face of a boy. As he fell further and further, hair whipping around his face, he gave the boy a smile, trying to assure him that it was alright. That this was what he wanted. And he was happy with his decision.

Taehyun kept eye contact with the boy, the soft smile still on his face all the way down as he fell, until he was enveloped by the cold saltiness of the water and he couldn't see the boy anymore. As he sunk down into the cold depths, he thought briefly about the boy, who seemed so desperate to keep him alive. It was strange: he didn't know the boy, nor did the boy know him. He'd have no reason to care about Taehyun.

But still, Taehyun's was firm on his choice. It wasn't like the boy was going to miss him, anyway. This was just one fleeting moment in the boy's life. But for Taehyun? This was the end. This was his end, and he was content. With that final thought, he closed his eyes.

And he didn't open them again.

｡･:*:･‧･₊✜˚.

Beomgyu didn't know him. He didn't know who Taehyun was, since he had just been visiting in town for the weekend. He didn't know anything about him, and yet his heart wanted to cry for the boy.

He'd seen him, standing on the edge of the cliff. The wind had been messing his hair but he didn't even seem to notice. Beomgyu had thought it strange, how close he was standing to the edge, and didn't realise what the boy was about to do until the last second.

With wide, panicked eyes, Beomgyu had bounded forward, arm outstretched, mouth open in a desperate scream.

"No, stop! Don't do it!"

The boy turned around, and Beomgyu thought that he'd saved him. Only to realise that the boy was already falling, and had already jumped by the time Beomgyu had cried out.

Out of desperation, Beomgyu thrust his hand out over the edge, hoping that somehow, the boy was close enough to grab his hand. But when he was only met with cool wind, Beomgyu leaned his head over, and saw the boy already falling, too far away for him to ever be able to reach.

Tears were now beginning to build in Beomgyu's eyes. It was strange: he'd never met the boy in his life and yet his heart ached, as if some part of him was dying with the boy. He didn't know the boy, but the fact that someone hated their life so badly that they wanted to end it hurt him so much. The boy, however, didn't seem to relate to Beomgyu's pain, giving him a relieved smile. This just made Beomgyu feel even sadder. The boy was happy with his choice. He found happiness in his own death.

Beomgyu watched, powerless, as the boy plunged down before being swallowed by the dark waves. Tears were falling down his cheeks. The boy had looked so serene and peaceful it was heartbreaking to see.

He continued to stare down at the ocean, long before the boy had disappeared. Beomgyu didn't bother to wipe his cheeks, staring intently at the frothy blue sea. He didn't know the boy's name, but it felt like if he had, he would have cherished him forever. Is that what soulmates felt like? Even though they hadn't met each other before, they felt that inexplainable pull towards each other.

Beomgyu felt that now, looking down at the waves in which the boy had disappeared. He felt a curious sense of loss, as if he'd watched some part of his own soul die with the boy.

"I would have loved you," Beomgyu whispered. "If you'd just waited a little longer, then I'm sure I would have loved you. I would have loved you hard enough to make you want to stay." Another tear fell. "I know I would have loved you. Even though I didn't know you. I'm sure I would have. Tell me: would you have let me?"

But Taehyun was too far gone to reply. The cliff was silent, save for the crashing of waves against the rocks below, and the relentless wind whipping up the sand around him.

Beomgyu stayed there, staring over the edge of the cliff as if, if he stared long and hard enough, Taehyun might come back.

When finally, the sun dipped below the horizon and was replaced by the quiet silver moon, Beomgyu got to his feet, brushing his knees. With one last look over the cliff, he reluctantly walked away.

If Taehyun had hesitated for even one more second, he could have met Beomgyu, who would have saved him and loved him so much that he'd never attempt to jump again. If Beomgyu had noticed what Taehyun was about to do just a fraction of a second earlier, Taehyun would have grabbed Beomgyu's hand and not have ever let it go.

But unfortunately, they missed each other by a sliver of a moment. By a thin thread of time, they missed that opportunity to be in each other's lives. And so, they just brushed past each other's lifetimes, neither of them knowing each other for more than a few seconds.

But the memory of each other was the last thing both of them remembered before they died.

#txt #txt taegyu #taegyu #txt beomgyu #beomgyu #txt taehyun #taehyun #txt angst #txt fluff #txt fanfic #txt fic #txt imagine #txt imagines #tomorrow by together #tomorrow x together #tw//suicide

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lovelywingsart · 3 years

Text

Chase

-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/They) --

Something actually fun and relatively cute for once! I've got a few of these cute things in store, both for already written and in progress! This was probably one of my favorite ones to write though~

**Remember, check out the Masterlist for more! <3 **

-----

*Warning?: Lots of chasing, hiding, and a tickle struggle. Just a fun, dumb, cute time later in life.

Summary: After so many times of Emelia hiding his things, Karl is more or less fed up, and decides to finally do something about it. Will it stop her? Probably not!

Footsteps thundered down the corridors of the factory as Emelia ran, skidding around corners and narrowly avoiding metal pieces that raised in attempts to stop her. Her chest burned as she took rough breaths, feeling the flutter of her cadou with each inhale. It was always an odd feeling, even more so as it increased with the adrenaline that coursed through her veins now, but it wasn't one she had focused on. Instead, her focus was on escaping the angry man in pursuit of her. What had simply started as a joke has escalated with each moment passing as she quickly jumped over a barrel that had fallen and was pulled towards her.

"EMELIA!!!" Heisenbergs voice boomed behind her, sending shivers up her spine as it echoed through the nearly empty halls and caverns. She picked up the pace, nearly jumping over every little scrap and box to give herself a boost.

"SHITSHITSHITSHIT-" she gasped, ducking and diving into an open vent, making her way through and letting out a yelp as she heard the *CLANG* of metallic parts hitting the open end she had crawled in from.

Scrambling out of the vent, she darted to the open door and turned into another maze-like hallway. She knew EXACTLY why he was chasing her, but part of her brain couldn't wrap around exactly why he seemed so... so angry this time. Though she had to admit hiding his things had been a regular occurrence, she couldn't tell if he was messing around or legitimately pissed, his voice and the movements of metal around her almost making her believe the latter. But his missing tools and her eventual laughter upon his discovery of them being gone had set her up, and now she felt like she needed to run for her life.

It wasn't until she heard relative silence behind that she slowed down, eventually coming so a halt in a dark hall and gasping for air. No metal moved... No heavy footsteps... No labored breathing. No breathing at all, actually. Her muscles were burning from running... She felt her legs shake as she leaned against the wall, her throat burning as she gulped in much-needed air. Thankfully she knew where she was... And she knew where this hall would take her. It was a dumb idea, frankly, but it might have been dumb enough to work if it came down to it. She kept herself propped against the wall as she took a quick look around. There was nothing... Only dark, dimly lit halls with sounds of machinery whirring in the near distance. No other footsteps or noises. It seemed calm... She let out a relieved sigh.

Finally...

"Found you." Came a sudden low growl from mere feet behind her. She jumped with a yelp as she whirled to face Heisenberg, another chill running down her spine as the sinister smile he held. The sneaky bastard, how did he-?!

"SHIT-!!!" She yelled, taking off once more as he started to laugh.

"I know this factory better than you ever will, Emelia!! You can't run forever!!!" He called out behind her.

She nearly screamed as a metal rack was thrown across the hall in front of her, causing her to veer off track and head down another hall. The only thing that gave her slight peace of mind was that his laughter didn't SOUND threatening... Neither did his words as he spoke now. Or, not the 'normal' sort of threatening... She suddenly realized with another falling rack that this WAS a game to him. Why the hell did she think is WASN'T?? It was NEVER serious when it came to shit like this!! She mentally chastised herself for ever thinking so as she turned another corner that lead her back around to the original hallway she had been in. She was never in ACTUAL danger when it came to him, why the hell would she be now? Especially after all they had been through in past years?

Though the realization mildly put her mind at ease, she only started to run faster. No way in hell he was gonna catch her now... Not that he was in the first place, she thought, but now there was actual danger. Playful danger, but danger nonetheless. Now that it was confirmed as a game in her mind, her fear and need to escape only escalated. Heisenberg when angry was something she avoided, but she knew anger could and would wear down with time and activity. Give him a good chase for about an hour or so and he'd mellow out as he always did unless he was heavily determined, which wasn't always the case. An angry Heisenberg meant short, quick bursts of energy, and she could handle that. But a GAME?

She knew full well he'd play until he won.

Winning this game meant catching her- and she wouldn't let him. No way in hell she'd let him. She'd run all night if she had to, even mutating given the right situation.

She narrowly avoided more and more scrap metal pieces flying at walls around her, finally hearing heavy, brisk footsteps as she reached a larger, empty hall. She nearly skid as she turned another corner, busting her way through a heavy metal door and into a very large, very cluttered area. Piles and piles of scrap metal and old materials nearly reached the ceiling, and she wasted no time in maneuvering around and going deeper in to the place. She couldn't afford to hesitate now... She felt small vibrations in the metal pieces around her, ever so thankful she had thought to take out her own piercings before this. She knew it was how he would expect to find her having done so in the past. Not this time... No, she'd make him tear the place apart looking for her.

She quickly moved behind one of the massive piles, keeping deathly silent despite her burning lungs as she heard a low, dangerous chuckle erupt from deep breaths in the dim lighting.

"Oh, this was a bad idea, Doll." He growled, his slow footsteps now audible as he stepped along the metal pieces. Sure, he could easily use his powers for an airborne view. But what was the point if he couldn't make it fun and make her run? He enjoyed the chase, after all.

Emelia covered her mouth as she quietly ducked out of view, trying her best to keep her breathing in check as she heard him grow closer with every slow step he took. Her eye scanned the area around them, looking for any safe way out. She finally glanced at the metal pile behind her, her interest peaking as she saw a small hole behind a textured metal sheet. 'Yes!' she thought, crouching next to the sheet and poking her head inside. It looked big enough to barely fit her, but she found squeezing in wasn't too incredibly difficult as she began to fit herself between the scraps. She maneuvered herself into the small crevasse, scooting the piece of textured scrap in front if it as quietly as possible. Of course it didn't go completely without noise, however, as it created a small squealing sound that alerted Heisenberg immediately.

"You REALLY think you can hide in here, Emelia??" He called, instantly making his way towards the noise. "I didn't think you were THAT stupid."

She watched from her hidden position as he wandered past, his tied-up hair and sleeveless tank he wore looking odd amongst the scraps compared to his usual clothing. Granted, it wasn't necessarily a bad view, she had to admit, not quite used to seeing his bare, scarred arms anywhere except the upper levels and some workshop rooms down in the caverns. Seeing him down here with less than three layers of clothing was odd, and she couldn't help but pride herself in it. But her eye widened she realized he was breathing rather heavily, his shoulders heaving slightly with each breath; Did he actually RUN?? Oh god, she really WAS in danger... She heard him mutter something in what she could only assume was German as he looked, her heart dropping as metal scraps began to lift and fly off in other directions with only a simple movement of his fingers and head. Scraps and broken parts flew everywhere, creating a cascade of noises and bangs that rang in her ears. It was as if he realized her own lack of metal as he sent a sudden a small pulse of electricity into the scrap around them, making everything produce a low, vibrating hum before he frowned.

"So you were smart after all..." he muttered, obvious disappointment in his voice as the pulses were pulled back. She couldn't help but smirk, though that smirk was short lived as he seemed to freeze in place.

All movement stopped as he listened, concentrating between the still floating scraps in the air and the scraps along the ground. The amount of silence in those few moments were unnerving, and she held her breath. Did he know where she was? Did she give away her position somehow? What was he doing? He finally walked away with a huff, his head nearly on a swivel, and she released the breath quietly. She relaxed somewhat, very close to leaning back against the scraps, but stopping herself. If she made noise NOW, she was done for.. She closed her eye with a sliver of relief. Did he actually give up? Was he moving to another area of the factory? Could she run for it? And, more importantly, was he still around? She only peeked out once she couldn't hear his footsteps, though didn't even attempt to leave her hiding spot even though he was out of sight. Sure, she could have very well been safe, but for all she knew, it was a ploy.

As she was right.

She let out a yelp of surprise and covered her head as the wall of metal was lifted away into the air, creating a loud rumbling noise with scrapes and clangs once it was all off the ground. She was made suddenly aware of open space surrounding her as small pieces fell, and she looked at the now barren ground. Her gaze raised to the metal in the air with slight panic, watching it swirl around like a slow tornado. Heisenberg stood off to the side, clearly holding back a cackling laugh as she looked at the metal wildly.

"How did-"

"You think I can't tell changes in the air against these scraps with this?" He asked, nodding to the metal pieces in the air. "Shoulda' held your breath longer, Emelia."

It took her a moment to realize exactly what danger she was in, her eye flicking down to meet the gaze of the man who now approached with a purpose, a low chuckle escaping his throat.

"I told you Emmy, you can't hide from me." He growled, only to dart forward with growl.

Emelia let out another scream, this time laced with a somewhat scared laugh as she rolled out of the way before he could grab her, pushing herself up to run again as he nearly stumbled in attempts to twist and grab her arm. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears as she heard his running footsteps behind her, jumping off of metal sheets as he made them rise under her to slow her down. No, nonono, he would NOT catch her! Not like this!!

"BLOODY CHEATER!!" She called back over her shoulder, landing hard against a pile of scraps after jumping. She hopped away between feet and scraps as he nearly grabbed her again with a feral laugh. How in the hell did he get THAT close already???

"Says the dumbass who hid around METAL in MY FACTORY!!!" He replied, a new amusement growing in his voice to match the irritation he still felt as he turned and chased her again.

She could faintly hear a metal hiss and clicking each time his left leg hit the surface, giving him longer strides and an odd power to his step. She suddenly knew why it was so easy, ducking away as he attempted to grab her again. The ASSHOLE-

"WHAT-" she started, only to let out a surprised shrill scream as she felt arms wrap around her torso and nearly lift her up, her legs swinging as she still held momentum. She heard him laugh into her ear as she swore and squirmed, prying at his hands to let her go.

"Told you it was a bad idea, Doll!!" He growled, a malicious smirk on his face as he set her on the ground and tightened his grip, his face pressing to her shoulder.

"You cheating BASTARD!!!" Emelia growled, unable to completely hide the laughter in her voice as he began to drag her backwards. "That bloody LEG OF YOURS-"

"It's not cheating if I need it Emelia!"

"BULLOCKS!!!"

She felt him pause for a moment, almost feeling the smirk against her skin as she continued to squirm. There was a single moment where she could take a breath before she felt his hand at her side, a forced laugh escaping her throat as he pinched and prodded.

"Where are they, Emmy?!" He asked, thoroughly enjoying her new, frantic squirms and swearing between laughter.

"WHAT- WHAT ARE YOU- STOP-" She tried, her words broken by laughter as he continued to attack her sides.

"Not until you tell me where they are!"

"F-FIND... FIND THEM YOUR- B-BLOODY HELL, STOP IT!!!" She forced out, her laughter becoming more and more genuine the longer he held onto her. Even he couldn't help but smile, the sound echoing off the walls of the large area.

She swore she had tears in her eye as she continuously squirmed and yelled for him to stop, smacking his arm and shoulders when she was able to reach. But the tickling sensation only grew, and she felt her knees grow weak against him. Heisenberg let out an amused laugh as she slumped against him somewhat, still attempting to argue through the laughter.

"I'll stop if you tell me where you put them!" He challenged, more or less holding her up. She attempted to push his hand away, though was met with rough kisses along the back of her neck, his beard scratching against the skin and making her recoil.

"F-!!! F-FINE!!! FINEFINEFINE, I'LL- JUST STOP-"

"Swear it!"

She let out a shrill, squealing giggle as he purposely nuzzled his face into a sensitive area on her neck before nodding rapidly. He smirked.

"SAY you swear it!"

"I S-SWEAR- F-FUCK- I SWEAR I'LL TELL YOU!!!"

She squirmed in his arms until he gave a genuine laugh against her neck, a rare sound that made her pause for a split second before he finally relinquished his grip. She had tears in her eye, her face and throat sore from laughing and yelling; something that didn't happen often, but she couldn't help but feel a bit lighthearted when it did. There were still small, uncontrollable giggles from her as he helped her balance herself, but she was caught off guard once more as she was spun around against his chest. The giggles only paused for a moment with a squeak as his lips suddenly met hers in a rough, yet playful kiss. Neither could help but chuckle as it slowed, and she eased into his arms as he reached to hold her jaw, his thumb brushing against the long scar on her cheek. They stayed together for a few moments before he finally pulled away, highly amused as she gulped in air to catch her breath.

"I win." He chuckled, giving a smug grin as she rolled her eye.

"Go... Go f-fuck yourself, Heisenberg..." she managed, her head falling onto his shoulder as she held onto his arms.

"I have you for that, Emmy. Now tell me where they are." He snorted. Keeping his arms around her. She couldn't help but give a snorting laugh, shaking her head.

"Th-the workbench..." she mumbled, turning her head to glance at him as he froze.

"... Excuse me?"

It was her turn to smirk.

"You heard me, Karl."

"When did-"

"You ran out, and I snuck back in." She explained, her smirk turning into her own smug grin as he narrowed his eyes. "Why do you think I was coming out of the room when you started to chase me?"

Heisenberg was silent for a moment, his eyes searching her face. Emelia almost started to worry until he shrugged.

"Alright then." He said casually. She lifted her head for a moment in confusion, only to let out a surprised yell as he suddenly bend down and hoisted her over his shoulder.

"HEY-" She started to squirm again, only to give a yelp as he moved his head and lightly bit her side through her shirt.

"Don't move Emelia, or I'll use my cheating leg to kick you across the room." He joked. She let out an irritable growl, gripping onto his shoulders.

"Not before I crush it with my bare hands..."

He laughed, starting a brisk walk back towards where they had come from, planning out his own minor revenge silently in his head.

"I'd love to see you try."

#oc #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil oc #resident evil village oc #re8 #re8oc #re8 oc #karl heisenberg #lord heisenberg #Heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg x oc #heisenberg fanfiction #lovelywingsart #lovelywingsocs #Metalworks fanfiction

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kkeidawrites · 3 years

Text

Her.

Her wings were tied to her back with a red wire. The smallest of movement the wire would sting her and her wings would go smaller. Cold iron is what the wire was laced in, a weakness she had the unfortunate to gain as well from her mother’s side of the family.

The cage that Alia was traveling in smelled like dried blood and it made Alia nauseous. It had only been a couple of hours since she was taken from her home and she prayed that Samuel had found Alucard in time.

Alia had seen these men before whenever she travelled into town to get food, they were hunters who searched for fairies and sprites. They take them back to their camps and use take away their wings to crush them into currency that is very valuable to the black market.

Flashback

After Alucard left, Alia tended to making dinner for her niece and nephew. It was a bit late to make a lot of food and she decided to give the both of them rice with broth and meat.

While she was preparing dinner, a glass had broke in another room and Alia rolled her eyes. Her niece was a curious little thing and liked to touch stuff that she knows she shouldn’t be touching.

“What was that?” She called out over her shoulder. Silence was all she received and Alia set down the small cut of meat on the counter to follow where she heard the sound.

“Desiana and Samuel, I asked you what that noise was, don’t ignore me-” she began to fuss but, once she entered her small living area her rant halted as her eyes widened.

Two men held up a sword to both her niece and nephew’s necks and the third man in the room sat in her lounge chair, fiddling with a dagger.

“Well, well it seems we have more than one fairy in the house, boys. Looks like our pay day has been tripled.” His eyes turned to look at Desiana and he grinned greedily.

“The younger they are, the more profitable their wings are.” His men chuckle darkly and Alia straightened her back. She needed to be careful about how she was going to approach this.

“Wait, you don’t want them.” Alia told him and the man turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

“And why’s that? They fairies too ain’t they?” He asked pointing the dagger at her relatives.

Alia quickly shook her head.

“No, they have goblin blood in them, they do not share the fairy blood like I do.” Alia says.

It was true, when her older brother married, his wife was half goblin and half slyph, her niece and nephew’s fairy heritage was too small of a chance for them to gain wings. Perhaps when they both grew older they would grow their wings then due to their slyph blood.

“I am the one you want, I have fairy blood.” She placed a hand on her chest and the man looked in her to see if she was fibbing.

“Prove it then.”

“What?”

“Prove that you are really a fairy and we’ll leave.” He tells Alia who stared at him in disbelief.

Sighing in annoyance, Alia closed her eyes in concentration and felt the power of her magic surge throughout her body. The sound of fluttering resonated in the room as her silver wings made their appearance.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Alia’s eyes opened and suddenly she felt her lower body be seized and the feeling of being burned started around her arms and her wings. Cold iron. A fairy’s weakness, it was pretty difficult to find in this part of the country and it was very expensive. How did these guys get their hands on it?

Screaming out in pain, Alia fell to her knees and grunted as the wire squeezed her midsection tighter.

The man above her grinned darkly as he knelt in front of Alia, grabbing her hair and pulled her up to force her eyes to look up at him.

“Looks like we were in the right place then. Thank you for that demonstration, sweetheart” he releases her hair and Alia’s head laid back on the ground as the wire tightens again.

“We can go ahead and take our profits and get properly paid. Men! Bag her up! And make sure this place is searched for any other ‘treasures’.” His smirks widens as his men began to destroy her house.

Taking what they saw would be valuable and knock down anything that was in their way.

“What bout these two?” One of the two men who were still holding Desiana and Samuel, asked their leader.

The leader turned to look at the two children and scoffed.

“They’re nothing worth of value, get rid of ‘em.” He says and Alia’s eyes widened.

“No! Don’t hurt them!” She cries, as she moves to sit on her knees. The leader grabs the wire and pulls her to her feet and grabs the back of her head to make her grunt.

“Aunt Alia!” Samuel cried out as the man holding him held the knife closer to his neck.

“Run!” Alia yells with a whimper as the fist in her hair tightened.

“You said they had goblin and sylph blood. I don’t need them. You should have just kept your mouth shut, and maybe they would live.” He whispered to Alia and began guiding her out of her home as her niece and nephew screamed.

“You won’t get away with this!” Alia growls to the man then felt herself become airborne. She landed inside a wooden cage and watched as the gate closed with a heavy thunk.

The leader grins sickly at Alia and fixes the coat her wore on his shoulders.

“I believe I just did. Let’s load up and head out!” He whistles to his men who came rushing out of the house with large bags of valuables.

Alia watched in horror as her house was suddenly lit on fire. The screams of her niece and nephew made Alia lose a piece of her heart.

“No! Nooooo!” She screamed as she struggled in her binds. The jerk of the cage moving by the horses hooked up to it made Alia struggle harder.

“Samuel! Desiana! Nooo!” She cries as the burning of the wire sunk deeper into her midsection and her wings were separating.

Falling to her side, Alia felt pain on her body and also inside her heart. The sobs quickly left her lips as the heartbroken fairy was led away from her burning home.

She had lost everything. Her little niece and nephew. Her home. And she wouldn’t be able to see Adrian again and tell him how much she loved him.

‘Please Adrian. Please...help me.’ She thought sadly.

End of flashback

“Take her over there!” The leader of the posse that had taken her earlier yelled as she felt the cage she was in turn in a different direction.

“Make sure that the cage is locked nice and tight. I don’t want our little fairy to fly away.” He chuckles darkly at Alia’s passing cage.

The fairy glared angrily at the man and he grinned in return.

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

With Alucard

The dhampir stood with his father in front of a mirror in the main gears room where the castle was able to be moved from place to place and Alucard watched anxiously as his father raised his hand to the mirror and the reflection shifted to show a camp.

Alucard was mesmerized by the large camp, how was this place not discovered by anyone?

“This is as far as the mirror will allow us to see,” Dracula turns to his son and Alucard drew closer to the mirror to see if he could spot Alia. So far, he had only seen creatures in chains and cages and a lot of humans guarding them.

“What is this?” Alucard asks and Dracula looks at the mirror once more.

“It seems to be a black market for supernatural beings. These camps have been stationed everywhere in the country. A posse that works on and off with the church.” Dracula clenched his fists at this.

He had seen these types of camps in his human years and each one were more brutal than the last. If the creatures they had hoarded did not live up to being worth any value they would destroy them then move on to the next one to see if they were the better choice.

“Alia!” Alucard’s cry for the woman’s name made his father’s focus return to the mirror.

The reflection showed the caged woman and Alucard’s face was almost smushed against the mirror to see the fairy’s deflated state.

Her body twitched and Alia’s body moved to the side to show her face. Her teeth were gritted and her beautiful hair was ruffled and it looked like someone had pulled on it.

Seeing the state she was in was all the information, Alucard needed as he adjusted his sword on his side and turned to his father with a scowl on his face.

“I’m going to get her out of there.”

“You cannot go alone.” Dracula told his son.

“She needs me!”

“There are too many men! You’ll be killed!”

“I don’t care!” Alucard yells at his father and Dracula took a step back in disbelief. His son had never talked to him this way.

“I won’t leave her alone! They’ll kill her and I refuse to lose her.” He tells his father and Dracula was at a loss of words.

“Adrian-”

“If this were mother you would be doing the same!” He continues and Dracula sighed placing a hand on his temple.

“I have told you before, Adrian. You cannot just go in the mirror head on without a plan. You’ll get yourself killed and I believe that you should bring someone with you.” Dracula said as he approached a door and grabbed the handle.

“And who would that be?” Alucard asked.

Dracula smirks at his son and opens the door as two people stepped into the room.

“I’m sure you are familiar with these two. It has been a while since you last seen them.” Dracula says as he steps back a bit to allow the two people to walk up to a shocked Alucard.

The one of the left placed a hand on their hip and a smirk lifted to their face.

“Don’t look so shocked, it just makes you look more like an ugly bastard.” They tease as the other pops their shoulder in discipline.

“Trevor, have some respect!” The smaller one fusses as the one and only Trevor Belmont scoffs.

“He knows it’s true Sypha, that’s why he still looks like that.” Alucard couldn’t believe his own eyes.

Trevor Belmont and Sypha Belnades were standing right here in front of him. His two traveling companions that had helped him in the past.

(A/N: I know this is not what Trevor and Sypha were originally in the game for but, since this is my story telling I decided to bend the tale just this one time.)

“What-How-” Alucard turned to his father and the older vampire smiles.

“I had contacted them to come by and thankfully they were in the town nearby to help you.” Dracula said.

“But, how-”

“Who cares about how we got here? What’s the problem?” Trevor interrupts as both Sypha and Alucard glare at him.

“I see you haven’t changed a bit, Belmont.” Alucard banters and turns back to the mirror which showed Alia’s twitching body.

“I need to help my...” Alucard didn’t know how explain his relationship with Alia and he cleared his throat.

“The woman in the mirror needs my help,” he moves to the side and allowed his friends to look in the reflection to see Alia as well.

“Is she...a fae?” Sypha asked in disbelief. Her eyes were mesmerized by her silver wings.

“Half fae, yes.”

“What’s so special about her?” Trevor asks and Alucard glares at him again.

“She was taken by the men from this camp and they plan to use her to sell her to the black market. I cannot allow that to happen.” Alucard says as he stares longingly at Alia’s defeated body.

Trevor and Sypha saw the look Alucard gave the woman and gave each a knowing look.

“Well, if you say she’s important then I supposed we have no choice.” Trevor says as he cracks his neck.

“We would be honored to help you again, Alucard.” Sypha told the golden haired man with a smile.

Alucard smiled at the both of them and nodded in thanks.

“So, how do we proceed?” Sypha asked.

“We leave by nightfall but, we need a plan on how to get her out without causing too much revealing of ourselves.” Alucard says.

“I believe I may have a suggestion.” A new voice spoke up and the four turned to the door to see Lisa there with her hands on her hips and a smile on her lips.

End of Part 6

1// 2// 3// 4// 5// 6// 7// 8// Bonus!!

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Here’s part 6! Sorry for the long wait I have been trying to find time to write this chapter and I finally sat down and did it so please enjoy and like, comment, and reblog and make sure to check out my other stories!

#castlevania!alucard x reader #black reader #black!reader #castlevania #castlevania x reader #fanfiction #my writing #alucard #adrian tepes #adrian tepes x reader #black oc #her. pt. 6 #netflix castlevania #alucard x reader

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