#the bottom red arrow is just spinning around I swear!

[glassicgames]

Thank you to the Tumblr person who noticed my original DDR had an arrow in the wrong spot!! 😂 I have no idea why my mind blanked on that one! Here is the one I did after with the correct arrows. I guess my subconscious noticed as well?? 🤣

#commission #ddr #dance dance revolution #glassic games #stained glass #the bottom red arrow is just spinning around I swear! #I feel like the puzzle where two almost identical pictures are beside each other and you have to spot the difference lol

[inkandpen22]

Chaotic as The Sea (3/?)

Pairing: Jack Sparrow x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3k Warning: swearing, violence Part Summary: The Black Pearl arrives in Bimini and as any adventure with Jack Sparrow, there’s chaos

Masterlist

Two days later... 

Will

We arrive at Bimini as the sun begins to set. Y/N and Barbosa argue that we should wait until sunrise to explore the island. I argue that we can't waste another minute without trying to rescue Elizabeth. Jack, to my surprise, agrees that we shouldn't wait. Though, I think his reasoning is because he wants to see the fountain. 

Barbosa, Jack, Gibbs, Ragetti, Pintel, Y/N, and I all hop off the boat to explore the island. Gibbs, Will, and Pintel all carry long torches for us as the only sources of light. 

"Okay, so I know the general direction, but unless you feel like risking the chance of getting lost, which I don't, I suggest we use the compass," Y/N announces. 

"I thought you were certain of the fountain's location," Barbosa remarks a tad agitated. 

"Every tree and speck of white sand look exactly the same. Next trip, I'll drop your ass in a jungle in the middle of the night and tell you to find your way out!" She snaps. 

"Okay, well then let's use the compass." Ragetti takes the compass of Jack's belt and hands it to Y/N. 

The device begins to spin in her hand and Ragetti peeks over her shoulder. Jack quietly moves to stand beside her, wishing to catch a glimpse of himself. 

Abruptly, Y/N shuts the compass and frantically tries to get rid of it. "Oh uh, no it's okay, Jack can take it." She tosses it to him. 

"Me?" He looks at her wide-eyed and panicky. "No, give it to Will! He wants to find the bloody place." He tosses it to me. 

"What's wrong with you two?" Barbosa yells in frustration. 

"The compass doesn't work for them," I state. 

"Seriously!" Y/N huffs. 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Barbosa questions. 

"When Jack holds it the arrow points to Y/N," I explain pointing between them. 

"Who told you that!" Jack questions. 

Then, Jack and Y/N both glare at Gibbs. "Gibbs!" They bark in unison. 

The older man holds up his hands in surrender. 

"Well, why can't Y/N do it?" Pintel questions timidly, circling his hands together. 

"Why can't Will just bloody do it and we can move on!" The woman challenges. 

Jack nods. "I'm with her on this one." 

I sigh. "When Y/N holds it, it points toward whatever she wants so bad in New France." 

"But isn't New France North of here?" Ragetti questions. 

"Yes!" The rest of us answer in unison. 

His face scrunches together in confusion. "But uh-" 

Y/N elbows Ragetti in the ribs. "Shut it!" She's quick to change the subject. "Let's go! Will! I'll lead the way, you just act as a checker." 

_______________________________________________

30 minutes later... 

Y/N

As the seven of us continue to march through the thick jungle, Jack appears beside me. "After we're finished in New France. I say you and I pay a visit to Tortuga for old time's sake." 

I laugh. "Ha! Wish to relive our break-up?" 

"Think of it as a celebration of our reunion," he tries to sugarcoat it. 

I roll my eyes, laughing as I move ahead to join Will up front. "In your dreams!" 

Ragetti

I pick up my pace to catch up with Pintel. "I know something you don't know!" 

"What?" He eagerly asks. 

"When Y/N was holding the compass, the arrow was pointing toward her," I whisper. 

His face scrunches together. "Y/N desires herself?" 

"No!" I huff. "Jack was standing next to her!" 

He gasps, putting it all together. "So you mean-" 

"Yes!" 

He grins. "That's kinda sweet actually." 

Y/N

"Now be careful!" I announce to the men, watching my step as we get closer to the mountainside. "The natives made pit traps and other boobytraps-" 

Before I can finish my warning. Jack screams from the back of the group. When I whip my head around, Jack is nowhere to be seen. "For idiots like Jack," I sigh. 

"Does anyone see him?" Will questions, moving his torch around. 

"It's kind of dark!" Gibbs remarks. 

"Thank Jack and Will for that! They refused to wait until morning," I grumble, marching back to where I last saw Jack.  

"Jack!" We all call in a scatter as we search. 

"Captain!" Gibbs shouts. 

We all watch our steps, checking the heavily covered jungle floor and sky for any sign of him. He could be hanging from a tree in a net or in a hole somewhere. If it's deep enough and well covered, it'll be hard to hear him.

"This is ridiculous!" Gibbs huffs. 

"I say we leave him and tell the crew some natives got him," Barbosa suggests.  

"I have an idea," I announce as one pops into my head. "Give me the compass," I ask Will, holding out my head. 

"But how will that help?" He questions with a raised brow. 

I hold the compass in my palm and lift the lid. I watch as the arrow spins. Soon, each of the men are gathered around me in a circle, eager to catch a glimpse. Then, the arrow stops, pointing Southeast. The men break apart, allowing me to follow it. 

"Watch your step," I advise. 

I keep a close eye on the arrow, making sure it doesn't change direction. I'm about to take another step when Will suddenly grabs my arm. I glance ahead and realize there's a massive pit in front of me. Its edges were covered in leaves and brush. 

"Oh, thanks," I exhale deeply. 

"Captain! You down there?" Gibbs shouts down below, holding a torch above the massive pit. 

I kneel down beside the pit and await an answer. 

There's a faint, "Am I dead?" 

I giggle and shout back. "No, you're not dead you idiot!" 

"Pintel! Ragetti! Go fetch a rope from the ship!" Barbosa commands, sending the two off. 

I laugh, relieved that Jack is okay. Based on the distant swooshing sound, the pit is filled with water thankfully, not spikes. This could've been a recovery mission. I sit back on my knees and glance up to find the remaining three men staring at me with knowing grins. 

"What!" I sass, crossing my arms over my chest. 

"Nothing," they all say, breaking apart to roam in different directions. 

I roll my eyes, such nosy people, pirates. 

____________________________________________

The men work together, yanking Jack up from the bottom of the pit. I remained to kneel beside the edge, holding up a torch so we can see Jack when he pops up. 

"Ho!" Barbosa calls out as they tug the robe. "Ho!" 

Soon, Jack appears from within the darkness and I grip his belt, guiding him to safety. The men release the rope and relax, releasing panting breaths. 

"You okay? Captain!" Gibbs questions. 

"Yeah," Jack flips onto his back, catching his breath, "yeah, I should be fine. How did you-" His eyes flicker about until his eyes land on the compass on the ground beside me. 

"Ah, now that's interesting." A cheeky smirk begins to form on his face as he lifts his gaze to meet mine. 

I shove him in the shoulder, frustrated. "I told you to watch where you were going!" He has no idea how worried I was. 

"I was a tad distracted by you, Love," he chuckles. 

My eyes fall shut as I release a sigh of relief. Thank God, he's okay. 

Jack places his hand on my thigh, capturing me by surprise. His dark eyes meet might and I place my hand over his. He flips his over and they interlock in my lap. His eyes soften at the sight. 

Suddenly, there's a series of yells from across the jungle. Each of us tosses our heads to the side and sees small glimmers of light in the distance. Jack flies up beside me from his laid position. 

"Are they with us?" He questions. 

There's the ring of a gunshot and the bullet hits the tree right by Barbosa's head. 

"Don't think so!" Will declares, his voice shaky. 

"Who are they?" I shout. 

"Wait! They're Black Beard's men! I remember one of them. He's the one who took Elizabeth!" Will determines. 

“How did they find the fountain?” Barbosa yells. 

“He knew you’d come and find me!” I comprehend and look over at Jack. “He’s been following us here!” 

Pintel and Ragetti immediately make a run for it. 

“I’m with them, time to go!” Will decides and starts to run back to the ship. 

Jack takes my hand and instantly brings me to my feet. We begin to run too, hand in hand. 

“Cowards!” Barbosa shouts and stands his ground. He whips out his gun and begins to shoot at the mob. “Come and get it you slimy gits! Ha!” He laughs. 

Running utterly blind in the dark jungle, there’s hardly any light other than that that can make it through the tree tops from the moon. We make it through the jungle and see the beach a few yards ahead. Will and the two morons make a bee-line for the ship, when they’re suddenly stopped by a cluster of Blackbeard’s men running from down the beach. Jack pulls me into his side and draws his sword.

 Suddenly, I feel a hand wrap around my wrist and I’m yanked away from Jack. He immediately whips around and his eyes grow wide. My back slams into someone’s chest and I struggle to free myself. More of Blackbeard’s men appear from within the jungle and begin to fight Jack. Two men begin to drag me off and I fling around, trying to break free. 

"Jack!" I scream. “Let me go you bastards!” 

Jack searches for me and when he finally spots me, he screams. "No!" He looks at me pleading and full of guilt. 

As more of Blackbeard’s men appear, we both quickly realize there’s nothing either of us can do. These morons are taking me to their ship, more than likely to see their captain and to be held prisoner. This is yet another reunion I did not request. 

______________________________________

After sailing out to the Queen Anne's Revenge a couple hundred yards from the island, the nasty men take me aboard and immediately drag me off to the captain’s quarters. They swing open the double doors below top deck and we enter a familiar red velvet decorated office. 

A tall man stands behind the desk with his back to us. "And who do we have here?" A familiar voice purrs. When he spins around, his grin falls to confusion. "Y/N?" 

"I told you! Idiots!" I huff and yank my arms free from his buffoons."Hi, Eddie," I offer a fake smile.

"Eddie?" The pair beside me repeat in unison. 

The captain pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "How many times must I tell you?" 

"You could hand me the Templar Treasure yourself, I won't call you Blackbeard. It's stupid," I laugh, approaching him. 

"Leave us," he commands his minions. Once we’re allow, he moves to stand the other side of his desk. He props himself against it with a grin. "So, you and Jack are back together again..." 

"No way in hell," I snicker, taking a look about his office. He’s changed it in the last five years. "He promised me he knew where the Templar Treasure was, I'm simply completing my half of the deal." 

"Which is?" He inquires. 

I stop my admiring of his decor to meet his gaze. "Showing him to the fountain." 

"You would honestly betray me like that?" He acts offended my placing his hand against his chest. 

"If it guaranteed me the Holy Grail? Yes,” I stand firm. 

"Your loyalties still lie with that treasure? You truly are a pirate at heart,” he smirks. He rises from his position on the desk to pour us chalices of wine. As he approaches me, his eyes travel up and down my entirety. "Dare I say, you look amazing." 

I accept the wine, but roll my eyes at his compliment. "Oh save it.” 

He pouts dramatically. "What happened to the spirited eighteen-year-old I first met?” He reaches up and tucks strands of my hair behind my ear. “You're bitter now." 

I lift my arm and knock his hand away from me. "It's called maturing." 

"Have you matured enough to conclude that I'm the better man than Jack?" He smirks, stepping closer to me. 

I move away from him and toward the book case against the far wall behind his desk. "I think I prefer neither of you,” I answer over my shoulder. 

"One point, if I recall correctly, there was a point where you couldn't choose between us." He narrows his eyes, taking a sip of his wine as he creeps closer to me again. "Do you remember those few months in Bermuda?" 

I shift of my heels, allowing my eyes to fall to the Persian rug beneath them. "It was always going to be him, Eddie..." 

Abruptly, he rushes toward me and pins me against the bookcase. My wine falls out of my hand and stains the rug. "I could've had you if I wanted!" He growls. 

I look him dead in the eyes with a clenched jaw. "You dare threaten me!” 

He laughs mockingly. "What? Going to curse me?" 

I grin. "That used to terrify you if I recall correctly." 

"You're all bark and no bite. I happen to know for a fact, you don't practice dark magic!" He challenges. 

"Just because I don't practice it, doesn't mean I don't know how to use it.”  

There’s a commotion outside and soon the double doors swing open to reveal Jack marching in, gun drawn. While Eddie is distracted I pick up a vase off one of the shelves near me and I knock him over the head with it. The vase shatters into a hundred pieces over his head and the man falls to the ground with a thud at my feet. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I meet Jack’s gaze. His eyes flicker away from the man knocked out on the floor and up to me. 

"I hate that I'm relieved to see you," I pant. 

He runs over to me and takes my hand. "Consequence of loving me." He guides me over to one of the windows and swings it open. “Can you jump?” 

I look at him as though he as three heads. “Can you jump? What kind of dumb question is that?” I mock. Then, I ask him a similar dumb question. “I don’t know Jack, can you swim?” I roll my eyes and climb up onto the windowpane and jump out. 

“Jesus, Mary, and the bloody camel sorry for asking!” I hear him grumble under his breath as climbs out the window and jumps in after me. 

___________________________________

Jack

We’re not sure how we’ll get Elizabeth back, but we will. Though, I suspect that he was never after the fountain. No, what he truly wanted was Y/N and the fountain was just a cover-up. I brought her right to him. For now, we just need to create some distance between us so we can form a plan. 

Y/N climbs the ladder above me and Gibbs helps her on board. She offers him a thank you and brushes herself down. The crew is well into their tasks, getting us far from this island as soon as possible. 

“Glad to see you’re safe, Miss,” Gibbs greets. 

“Did everyone make it back okay?” She questions as I climb aboard. 

“Yes, even I,” Barbosa announces with a proud grin. “Not with the help of you lot,” he adds. 

“Don’t exactly have a death wish,” she giggles. 

“There’s a change of clothes for you in the Captain’s office,” Gibbs informs her. 

She offers him thanks and begins toward my quarters. Barbosa and Gibbs break apart to return to their positions. 

“You! Hold it!” I call out. 

The two men glance in my direction, wondering who I’m speaking to. They follow my gaze to Y/N. 

She whips her head around, her gorgeous, long, wavy, Y/H/C flowing in the breeze. She crosses her arms over chest. “Excuse me?” She scoffs with a grin forming on her lips. 

I narrow my gaze at her. “I have one question.” 

Barbosa and Gibbs watch the interaction, their heads tilting back and forth between us with each exchange. The crew too watches as they attempt to multitask with their duties. Her eyes remain on the deck panels and anywhere else but me. 

“Did you know the compass would lead you to me?” I ask. 

There’s a pause and I can tell she’s reluctant to answer despite the amused expression she wears. Then, her eyes rise to meet mine with a sigh. “Yes... maybe...” 

I smirk, approaching her slowly. “Oh see now that’s interesting, don’t you think?” 

“What? Just going to gloat about the ship now?” She rolls her eyes, directing her focus in the distance away from me. 

I bring my hands up to her cup her face and make her meet my gaze. To my surprise and pleasure, she doesn’t move from her spot or shove me away. Instead, brings her fingers to hook through the loops of belt. 

“You stay with me from now on. No more hiding out.” I smirk. “That’s an order,” I tease quietly between us. 

“Whatever you say...” Her eyes fall to my lips and then flicker back to my eyes. She grins. “Captain.” 

One my hands slips behind her head to her neck and I bring my lips to meet hers in a needy kiss. Her arms fling over my shoulders, deepening the kiss. 

“Now they’re going to be insufferable!” I hear Barbosa grumble to Gibbs as he stomps off. 

Five years of searching for her, waiting for, wondering if I’ll ever see her again. What happened between us all those years ago is one of my greatest regrets if not the biggest. Our relationship has never been easy, in fact it’s exceedingly complicated and one giant headache. We haven’t stopped arguing since the moment we met and rarely agree on anything. Yet, we love as we do argue with each other, passionately and with everything we have. Now that I have Y/N back and I know she loves me in return, I’m never letting her go. God help me if I let Blackbeard anywhere near her. 

_______________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @subwonwooagenda @starfire56 @doveygirlkay-blog @dansyberry @dansyberry @meany-marcelini @naturallyathief @oliviamae4193 @xxshoutxx @house-chase465636 @the-clint-barton @lxr1582 @m00ny-stars @lonliest-love @meandmymessyminds @jick-n0nas @biracy @kriimu10 @soxpoprocks @peachyplxm @captainluciabianchin @cannibalistic-cicada @a-e-i-owe-you @velvetsnaiil @mindifislytherin666 @bunkyung @livinglifewithoutbeingseen @ghosts-face @mx-pibbles @bigplaidwinnerparty @greentea121598 @that-eco-bitch

#pirates of the caribbean #pirates of the carribean imagine #jack sparrow imagine #jack sparrow #jack sparrow fanfic #jack sparrow x reader #PotC #will turner #elizabeth swann

[ichorai]

frozen hearts, flaming arrows ; p.sh

parts ; one. masterlist. two coming soon.

pairing ; fire!seonghwa x ice!reader

summary ; two enemy clans. one icer healer, one flamer soldier, one brewing war. love was never meant to be a part of this. but then again, when is love ever supposed to be a part of anything?

words ; 7.3k

warnings / includes ; cursing, violence, a make-out scene !!, future suggestive / mature content, hwa being sexy as always, ANGST okay this is a lot of ANGST and hURT, enemies to friends to enemies to lovers trope lol

a/n ; bet yall didn’t see this one coming lol but yea pls enjoy !!! im rlly excited for this series omg !!! im sorry this part was rlly short and kinda bad kkdfjdf but this is just the beginning and i swear part two will be much better !!

A snowflake glowing a luminescent blue lazily floated above your palm, multiplying into several others until you held a mini-flurry in your hand. You walked past all the frosted-over trees, huffing in deep breaths of cold air as your boots stepped over piles of unblemished snow and crispy dead leaves. 

Being a healer was exhausting. Though you were still fairly new to the job, you couldn’t help but lay all the blame on yourself for being incapable of saving a life today. You just… hadn’t expected there to be that much blood. Icers had thicker blood for a reason; it wasn’t usually a problem. The head healer tried to reassure you that you did everything you could, but you couldn’t stand to be in the medbay for much longer. You needed air. 

And that’s how you ended up here, head spinning dizzily as you stomped through the wintry grey forest, releasing out a frustrated groan from the bottom of your lungs.

“You’re dangerously close to our territory, Icer.” The sudden deep-timbered voice had you flinching so harshly you hit your head on an icy tree branch. “I’d watch my step if I was you.”

Breath caught in your throat, you watched with wide eyes as the Flamer stepped out of the shadow of a tree. He was undeniably handsome; his irises were dark, flecked with a fierce gold the same hue as the edge of a fire, his slicked-back hair a nightly black, and a curl of his carmine lips that was nowhere near friendly. An obvious insignia of a red flame was embedded into his unwrinkled jacket, a clear sign of this man being from the Fire Tribe.

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized I was so close to the border.” You murmured, backing away slowly. The small snowflakes that you had accumulated in your palm quickly dissipated into the air, but miniscule particles of snow still floated around you, no doubt a result of your quaking nerves.

Noticing this, the man watched curiously as a snowflake drifted by him. He raised a finger towards the ice crystal, a small orange flame bursting out of the tip. The snowflake melted into a droplet of water, falling to his feet. You noticed the snow had melted away from him in a large circle around his shoes, now standing in a patch of wet grass. Even from the great distance between the two of you, you could still feel the wavering heat pulsating from this strange man.

“What are you doing so far away from your people?”

You knew you shouldn’t be talking to a Flamer stranger. They were dangerous, and it was common knowledge that Icers and Flamers weren’t on the best terms as of late.

“I couldn’t be there anymore,” You whispered, just loud enough for him to pick up. At his raised eyebrows, you continued on. “I’m a healer. It was a lot of pressure not to mess up.”

He nodded, his curiosity getting the best of him. He stepped closer and asked, “Then why are you a healer?”

“Because I’m good at it.” The words came off far too snobbish for your liking, so you quickly added in a sheepish tone, “Also because I like helping people.”

The two of you fell into a queer silence, before he nodded, somewhat satisfied with your answer. The Flamer turned his back to you, “I best get going now. The lands aren’t going to patrol themselves. Run back to the rest of your people, Icer.”

You could feel his heat retract as he walked away. More snow fell to cover his tracks, as if the strange man with flaming eyes was never there.

It wasn’t until the same time the next day that you found yourself strolling towards the forest, back to the same spot last night, feet acting to their own accord. You paused in your steps when you realized where you were heading. 

Would you really risk getting a Flamer angry at you for getting too close to their borders again? With not another thought, you pushed back the doubts and walked onwards… it wasn’t like you actually crossed the border. There was a large grey strip of forest land that belonged to neither tribe; it was far too costly to maintain and the forest gave them nothing but bugs and piles of dead leaves.

Much to your surprise, the man was already there, watching you with those glowing eyes of his. “What are you doing here?” He hissed.

“I can ask you the same thing,” You retaliated, arching an eyebrow.

The cold wind whistled as it blew past you, but you were planted firmly to the ground. He, on the other hand, grimaced quite obviously as the breeze tousled his neat hair about, sending dark strands careening into his eyes.

“I’m Y/N,” You said with a small smile. Although he pulsated with heat, that only made him feel the frigid sting of the cold wind all the more. At the sight of his shivering form, you wondered just how bad a Flamer can be.

He eyed you suspiciously before stepping forward quite boldly, sticking out a hand, “I’m Seonghwa.”

There was a strange arrhythmic thump in your chest. Now that he was so close to you, the lilith-hued snow around your feet started to wilt away as well, your cheeks flushing at the sudden rise in temperature. Icers weren’t very good with heat, that was obvious.

And when you took his hand, it was as if he was the coldest thing you’ve ever touched. But that couldn’t be it… you couldn’t really feel the cold much. Nonetheless, you gripped his palm unflinchingly, staring him dead in the eye. It became like some sort of challenge, but the both of you knew that you had obviously won. Seonghwa winced at how freezing your fingers against his were.

“Do you come here everyday?” The Flamer asked once he retracted his hand from yours to shove into the warmth of his pocket.

“Yesterday was my first time. I wasn’t planning on coming back today, but I just ended up here on instinct.” Your boot scuffed the pristine snow, avoiding the way his gaze seemed to quite literally burn holes into you.

Seonghwa frowned slightly. Funnily enough, the same exact thing had happened to him. He wasn’t on patrolling duty today, so really, he had no cause to be out here. He could be curled up with a book in front of a nice, warm fire, instead of standing in the snow with an Icer, of all people. Gods, he must be crazy.

“So… what are you doing here?” Your seemingly innocent question had Seonghwa struggling for words. 

In all honesty, he had been curious whether or not you’d come back. An Icer healer in the Grey Forest was more than enough to pique his interest. Nothing remotely gripping ever happened in the Fire Tribe (other than the various men and women who threw themselves at him whenever they got the chance). He hadn’t actually expected you to come back. 

“I’m… hunting.”

“It’s illegal to hunt outside of your tribe lands, everybody knows that.”

“Who said I was hunting for an animal?” Seonghwa crossed his arms over his chest to try and look somewhat menacing, but you just grinned. “I was looking for a book I lost.”

You hummed slightly, “Right.” As you waved your arm about, little snowflakes seemed to trail after you, and Seonghwa watched in masked fascination. “Can’t you just admit that you came to see me again?”

“Who’s to say that it’s not you coming to see me?”

“Hmm, let’s just say we both came to see each other. I’ve never seen a Flamer up this close before.”

Seonghwa blinked down at you with wide eyes, as if realizing just how small the distance between the two of you was. His cheeks reddened quickly as he cleared his throat into a fist, stepping backwards and almost slipping on more snow. When he attempted to sidestep the large wet puddle he’d created because of his rippling heat, his foot caught onto a tree root and he tumbled backwards. Snowflakes clung onto his dark hair and he shivered yet again. You tried to conceal your sniggers behind a palm, but Seonghwa still seemed to notice, his blazing eyes narrowing in mock-offense.

“You’re enjoying this,” He stated with an accusatory tone.

“Of course I am,” You replied through muted laughs. “I’m sorry. I would help, but I’m afraid I’d only make it worse.” To emphasize your point, you shook your hands slightly, blue crystals of snow whirling about.

Seonghwa’s fiery eyes seemed to soften at this. He pushed himself up to his feet, now shivering so harshly that you could hear his teeth chatter. You’d only known this Flamer for less than two days and yet he’d already managed to tug at your heartstrings.

“You should go back and get warm. I’ve read about Flamers and their immune systems… you guys are absolute babies when it comes to the cold.” Out of instinct, you reached out to touch his arm, like you did to most sick patients. But of course, you paused just before the tips of your fingers brushed against his jacket, curled your hand into a palm and forced it back down to your side. “I wouldn’t want you getting a fever just to see an ordinary Icer.”

Seonghwa cracked a half of a smile, shaking his head in disbelief.

But when he spun on his heel to leave, you called out before you could stop yourself, “Will I ever see you again, Seonghwa?” He stopped in his tracks without turning to looking at you. Stomach coiling into a tight knot of tension, you awaited in the palpable silence, a heavy lump forming in your throat.

“Next time, let’s go somewhere a bit warmer, yeah? Meet me closer to Flamer territory, by the river next to the largest tree in the Grey Forest. If you get to see me shiver, I get to see you sweat, Icer.” And then he continued on his way, until his lithe form disappeared behind the misty haze and the frosted shrubbery.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Just what were you thinking, agreeing to meet with a Flamer? Were you always this stupid or had you just realized now? You couldn’t believe you were spending your free time with some random Flamer from the Fire Tribe. 

Thoughts of doubt swirled about in your head as you wove your way through the Grey Forest. The low rumbling of the river had you gulping down a large lump in your throat. It was already far too warm for you liking, the little snowflakes that buzzed around your head slowly melting away in water droplets. You didn’t think you’ve ever been this nervous before; not even back when you performed your first major surgery. There was just something about Seonghwa that you couldn’t stay away from… like when your Nan used to tell you no sugar candies before bed, it only made you crave for them all the more.

By the time you spotted Seonghwa leaning against the large tree, you were panting heavily, perspiration marring your skin. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” The Flamer chimed, seeming to be in a much better mood now that the tables have turned. He seemed quite at ease, not a bead of sweat to be seen. “Already worked up quite a sweat, have we?”

Pathetically, you lifted your arm to conjure a small snowball, proceeding to press it against your head for cool relief. It quickly melted into a slushy of ice and water, dripping down your hair. You frowned, while Seonghwa grinned in return.

“Not so fun, is it?” He teased while you kicked off your boots and dipped your feet into the river, moaning in relief at the slightly cooler temperature of the water. You wished to make it colder, but much to your disappointment, the water wouldn’t crystalize because of how quickly it was rushing by. 

Seonghwa crouched next to you, but still kept a decent length away, picking up rocks to skip across the river. For that, you were grateful, because if he made you any warmer than you were at that moment, you would’ve gotten up and stormed back to Icer lands. 

“The first time we met,” You started after flicking water onto your face to cool down, making Seonghwa glance at you with curious eyes. “You were telling me to go back to my territory. But now, you made me come closer to Flamer lands. What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly. “You’re just… not what I thought an Icer would be like. It made me curious.”

“And what did you think we’d be like?”

A small shrug lifted his shoulder, “Cold. I mean, not that you aren’t, but cold as in… your hearts would be frozen over as well. I grew up with stories of Icers freezing Flamers to death and placing them in their gardens as statues. But you don’t seem like you’d do that kind of stuff. Especially when you told me that you were a healer.”

“For me, everybody knew the story of how the Fire Tribe would lock the Icers they captured in a sealed room, and the snow they made would melt and they’d slowly watch as the room filled with water, unable to turn it into ice because it was too damn hot. And eventually… they’d drown.” At the last few words, you frosted over your fingers and dunked them beneath the waters’ surface.

Seonghwa’s horrified expression made you chuckle slightly.

“Well, for the record, we don’t do that. We aren’t barbarians.” His words were said huffily as he crossed his arms and turned fully to fix his rapt gaze on you.

“I know. It was merely a silly childhood legend.”

The hours dribbled away fairly quickly, you and Seonghwa exchanging tales of your childhood that only increased in absurdity the farther you recounted. He told you about his friend, San, and how they once snuck into Wind Tribe territory to steal rare Gustberries that only grew in the harsh fields of the Breezers. You told him of Hongjoong and Wooyoung, the former being your closest friend and the latter constantly getting himself hurt. Laughs and giggles and the quiet hum of the river filled the silences in between the gaps of your vivid conversations. The more time you spent talking with him, the more you found yourself growing fond of the fiery-eyed man. Who would’ve thought?

By the time the sun had already set, you and Seonghwa were sitting much closer than when you had first sat down, his heat pulsating through the air in waves. To be honest, you didn’t quite mind the subtle warmth after you got used to the initial shock, but you knew you were pushing your limits. An Icer shouldn’t be out in high temperatures for this long. 

You pushed yourself up to your feet, head swimming dizzily as you sucked in lungfuls of air. Slightly concerned, Seonghwa reached out to help you find your feet, but he pulled away at the last moment, just as you had last night. The tables really have turned, you thought in mild amusement.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m… fine…” You swayed on your feet slightly, pressing your cooler palm against your warmer-than-usual forehead.

“Come on, let’s get you back to the cold. You guys are absolute babies when it comes to the heat.” He said, mimicking the same exact words you told him yesterday. A weak laugh slipped past your lips, as you leaned against a tree branch.

Oh, everything was just too hot. You’ve been out of the snow for too long…

All of a sudden, the world was flipped onto its side, damp grass pressing against your face. You could barely register Seonghwa startled yelp before everything went dark.

“Hey. Icer, are you okay? Icer! Y/N, come on, I put you back in the snow, I don’t know what else to do.”

Though your head pounded as though someone had whacked you with a tree branch, you could just barely make out Seonghwa’s concerned tone. When your eyelids fluttered open, you were met with the sight of the Flamer’s handsome, yet alarmed face.

“You okay?” His words came gentle and soothing.

Puffing out a small sigh, you nodded tiredly. Being back in the snow felt much better, “Yeah. Thank you,” You croaked out sheepishly.

Seonghwa beamed down at you, before shuffling away so as the snow around you wouldn’t melt. But just as soon as the smile graced his features, it quickly dissipated into a frown, “Don’t scare me like that,” He practically scolded. “You win, okay? Next time we can stay in the snow.”

Breath caught in your throat, a heavy blush laid over your cheeks, “Next time? You just can’t get enough of me, can you?”

“No, I suppose not,” Seonghwa said somewhat nonchalantly, shocking you.

“I… well, thank you for the, well… uhm, getting me back,” You stumbled over your words the longer Seonghwa stared. Oh, what was this man doing to you? “I have some… healer things I need to do… so, I best get going… erm -” Without another thought, you pushed yourself onto your knees, snow crunching underneath your breeches as you leaned over towards him.

He was so warm. His face, especially, once you brushed your far-cooler lips against his cheekbone. The Flamer reared back with a ridiculous, startled expression, eyes comically wide. One of his hands came up to clamp against the cheek you kissed, mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. 

“It was really nice talking to you. Thank you again,” You murmured while hiding a grin behind your palm. With that, you turned on your heel and left the blushing Flamer alone in the snow.

From then on, you saw Seonghwa practically every day. Oftentimes, you’d meet in the snow and stroll through the Grey Forest until it got far too warm and the both of you would have to turn back. The moment he’d see your skin dampen with sweat, he’d have the two of you abruptly changing course, steering away from the heat of the Fire Tribe. You thought that was incredibly thoughtful of him. 

Once, Seonghwa discovered a more shallower part of the river that you could actually crystalize to keep yourself cool. That day was a good day. You had gently taken his scorching hand and tried to help him run across the ice before his heat could melt it away. The two of you left soaking wet, boisterous grins painted across your lips.

Hongjoong, being your closest friend and all, was constantly questioning and badgering on about where you went every afternoon. After all, you were a healer and your tribe needed you. But, however selfish it was, you didn’t want to stop seeing Seonghwa… he made you feel things no person from the Ice Tribe had ever made you feel.

The more you saw him, the more you had the urge to yank his stupidly sharp jawline towards you and shove your lips onto his. You’d imagine the way the warmth radiating off his skin would feel underneath your frigid palms and lips. You thought back to the second-long cheek kiss you gave him a couple months back, a fond smile tickling at the corner of your mouth.

“What’re you thinking about?” Seonghwa asked from beside you, nudging you slightly. Over a long course of time, the pair of you grew more and more comfortable with one another, inching closer and closer with each meet-up. At this point, you were practically sitting on top of him, one of his legs intertwined with yours and your head laying on his shoulder, the both of you leaning against a frosted tree trunk. Seonghwa smelled of sweet, burning sugar with a heavier scent of roasted coffee beans. He also often complained about how cold you were, although his tone was always fairly light and lacked any true bite. 

“Nothing,” You were quick to say, pulling your head away from his shoulder to peer up at him.

Shrugging off your strange attitude, Seonghwa glanced down at you with excited eyes, “You wanna see a new trick I learned?”

Without awaiting your answer (because he knew you’d say yes anyway), Seonghwa cupped his hands together and pulled them away to produce a thin orange flame morphed into the shape of a shooting arrow. You watched in rapt fascination as the fire-arrow spun in the air when Seonghwa whistled sharply. Then, he pushed it away to embed itself into the tree across from you. The tree’s dry bark was quick to catch aflame, but you flicked your hands and caged in the fire with frost, the orange dying out into the blackened wood. 

“Learned that during archery,” Seonghwa beamed down at your bemused expression. “You know, only the best Flamers can morph their fires into shapes. It takes a lot of concentration.”

With no effort at all, you twirled your fingers to make an intricate rabbit out of ice, whiskers and fur and all, holding it out to Seonghwa with a minuscule smile. The Flamer scowled slightly, and touched the tip of his finger to the clear crystal, watching it dribble into liquid through the gaps of your palms.

You rolled your eyes to the side before leaning your head back onto his shoulder with a content sigh, “Don’t you compete with me, Park Seonghwa. You’ll never win.”

Much to your surprise, he didn’t bother to argue, and instead pressed his warm nose into your frosty hair, humming, “Yeah, yeah. And who was the one that fainted in the heat again?”

“If I recall correctly, you’ve caught more than three colds just this year! And it’s only the fifth moon, too!”

His hands suddenly darted out to tickle your midriff, to which you squirmed away with a smothered laugh. 

“Hm, wanna put it to the test? I promise I’ll go easy,” You said teasingly once you managed to capture his wrists. You could feel his pulse rapidly thumping against the pad of your thumb. 

“I don’t know… I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“Trust me, you’re not the one that’ll be hurting.”

“Oh, you’re on, Icer.”

The two of you stumbled onto your feet and you held yourself up in a defensive stance. With a faint smile, Seonghwa mimicked your position. Admittedly, it wasn’t a very fair fight; you were a healer and he was a well-trained fighter.

But nonetheless, you were the first to throw, a frozen ball of ice the size of your fist hurtled towards him at top speed. Seonghwa was quick to react, blasting the ice with orange flames until it melted mid-air. You frowned and lithely dodged behind a tree when he reconjured his fire arrows and sent them after you. In retaliation, you quickly brought up a thick ice barrier with a laugh, smothering the thin lines of fire away with the sole of your boots. 

The air was chock-full of his crackling flames muted by your snow, crystalline icicles dripping from nearby tree branches, and lame taunts tossed back and forth by the both of you as you play-fought for another couple of minutes.

Seonghwa might’ve had the upper hand in combat, but you knew how to play dirty. Just as he was stepping forward, you sent a sheet of slippery ice to slide underneath his boots. With a bewildered expression, Seonghwa flailed about for a moment, the small fire he prepared in his palm dying down to glowing embers, before tumbling down into the snow. 

“That was low, Y/N,” The Flamer huffed out whilst trying to catch his breath against the pale white mound of snowflakes, glaring at you with playfully narrowed eyes. You were glad to see that he wasn’t actually angry at you.

“Do you call defeat, Seonghwa? There’s no shame in admitting it, you know!” Your jaunts were light-hearted as you walked closer to him and Seonghwa found himself grinning despite the cold stinging his skin. 

Sticking your hand out to help him up, Seonghwa eyed you for a moment with an indiscernible expression, his playful nature fading away into something you couldn’t quite decipher.

Instead of pushing himself up, he suddenly pulled you down with him, a startled shriek leaving your lips and echoing across the Grey Forest. You fell on top of him with a grunt of pain, meeting his glowing amber eyes with your confused ones. During your hazy moment of puzzlement, Seonghwa tugged you closer, his warm palms curled around your forearms gently. 

And then, without further warning, he kissed you. This one was nothing like the first kiss you gave him. That one was merely an innocent peck on the cheek. But this one… this one held passion and furtive desire and yearning. The both of you most definitely wanted this, it was quite clear by now.

Your senses were overwhelmed in the best way possible. All you could smell was him, the heavy undertone of roasted coffee beans sending your head into a cloudy daze. Your lips were slanted against his hot ones, noses of starkly opposite temperatures bumping against one another in your moment of desperation. You weren’t sure where to place your hands, so you balled them up against his jacket, just close enough to feel the hardness of his chest underneath.

For you, everything was hot, searing with a need for more as his plump, warm lips laid over yours. For him, however, everything was cold. The snow beneath was a mild annoyance, and yet he was willing to bear through it for you. You were equally freezing, but Seonghwa welcomed the cold for once, a dangerous ache that would grow to be lethal if neither of you were careful.

A small, frosty sigh left you when he pulled away for a second to stare at you with those intense eyes of his. You stared back with part-confusion and part-longing, lips agape. That apparently set something off in him, because he sat up with you straddling his hips, hands now encircled around your midriff as he kissed you more passionately, leaning forward so your back arched into him.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Why were you feeling these emotions for a Flamer of all people? Why couldn’t you have just stayed within your own tribe? Turmoil churned about in you as you kissed him in somewhat of a frantic manner. You hated yourself for loving it so much.

The second time he pulled away, you were both gasping for breath, lips swollen and clothes rumpled and askew. You could tell he wanted to kiss you again, and probably a thousand times after that. To be frank, that was all you wanted as well.

But you knew this had to stop. And so, when he leaned forward to capture your lips with his again, you flinched none-too-subtly and slid off his lap. An expression of genuine hurt flickered across his handsome, reddened features. A twinge of guilt gnawed away at your stomach as you got up onto your shaky feet.

“Go home, Seonghwa,” Was all you could find yourself saying with a hoarse voice. “You’re going to catch a cold again.”

You couldn’t look at him anymore. And so, you left him laying crestfallen in the snow, hurriedly making your way back to Icer lands, small blue snowflakes trailing behind you and cold tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

The next day, Seonghwa didn’t show up. You waited by your usual meet-up place, gnawing on your lip anxiously, glancing every which way in hopes of seeing the raven-headed Flamer. In the midst of your worrying turmoil, more and more snowflakes emanated from your skin and it didn’t take long for them to accumulate by your feet, completely covering your boots in a pristilline white blanket. You stepped out of the feather-soft pile, opting to impatiently trudge about in an attempt to steel your nerves.

You hadn’t been able to sleep that night. Seonghwa’s heartbroken expression was imprinted into your mind, leaving you in a mess of guilt and regret and anger. 

Why did you have to push him away? Seonghwa, your first non-Icer friend, shoved away as if he meant nothing. You released a frustrated groan, smacking your palm into your forehead.

It made sense that he didn’t want to see you. If you were in his shoes, you probably wouldn’t leave your room and have the light of day touch your face for a whole moon. The idea of Seonghwa upset just didn’t sit right with you. Nonetheless, you could do little else than bide your time for him, however much you hated waiting.

He didn’t show up the next day either. Nor the one after that. 

By the fourth day of waiting, you started to feel twinges of discouragement, but you never gave up, determined to set things right with Seonghwa. The niggling thought of him never showing up was one that often pestered you while you patiently awaited his return, although always quickly shoved down into the corner of your mind. You didn’t want to think about what you would do if you never saw him again.

It took just over a week of waiting for him to come back. At that point, you hadn’t thought he’d come back at all, reluctantly accepting that you’ve ultimately ruined your friendship with Seonghwa.

And so, imagine your surprise when his voice rang out through the trees, your name rolling off his tongue smoothly, “Y/N.”

Startled, you flinched so hard that your head hit a branch that hung lowly on the icy tree you were sitting beneath. It reminded you so much of the first time you met him that you couldn’t help but crack a smile after your initial pained grimace.

“Seonghwa,” You gasped, eyes round with shock and mouth agape. “You’re… you’re back!” 

The excitement in your voice didn’t go undetected by either of you, but his features were set in stone, unmoving and neutral. Those blazing eyes of his seemed to bore holes into you, and you felt strangely naked underneath his gaze. You noticed that his appearance was more disheveled than ever, eyebags dark and hair not neatly slicked back like usual. He looked broken, but far too proud to admit so.

“Seonghwa…?” You stepped closer, the frosted leafy foliage crumbling under the pressure. This man was someone you deeply cared about, and you knew he felt the same about you.

So why was he staring at you like you meant nothing to him?

A shiver ran down your spine, a sensation that only Seonghwa could bestow upon you. Which was ironic, because the cold feeling that tickled down your spine was ignited by a man with powers of fire and heat. 

You and him didn’t belong together. That was clear as day by now.

“Seonghwa,” You mumbled again, reaching out to him once close enough.

He shut his eyes as if looking at you were torture. It stung more than you liked to admit, so you retracted your fingers, clenching them into a fist and dropping them back by your side awkwardly. The air was so tense, so utterly uncomfortable, you could feel the crack in your heart splinter into more branches.

“Stop saying that.”

“Saying what?” Your bottom lip trembled. This wasn’t the Seonghwa you’ve grown to be so fond of. This man scared you. You had half a mind to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense back into him. Where did your Seonghwa go?

An angry huff escaped his lips, misting visibly out of his carmine lips. The very ones you kissed a little over a week ago.

“You can’t… just… don’t say my name. Please. We can’t be like that anymore. We can’t do this. We can’t keep seeing each other.” Seonghwa’s stoic mask disintegrated into raw emotion. He looked to be on the verge of tears, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you mirrored the same exact expression.

There was a part of you that wanted to yell and scream and throw sharp icicles at him until he had no choice but to run back to Flamer territory. Anywhere, as long as it was far away from you. The other, more rational part of you, whispered that he was right. After all, you were the one that pushed him away first. It was only fair.

A broken bone won’t heal if you keep putting pressure on the wound. Being a healer, you couldn’t just ignore your own teachings.

But for just once in your life, you wanted to be selfish. You wanted to hold Seonghwa tightly in your grasp, no matter how dangerous it was. You wanted to call him yours, and you wanted to be his. You wanted to kiss him again, despite the small action being the ultimate downfall for the both of you.

And so you found yourself croaking out, making sure to emphasize his name, “Seonghwa, you know just as much as I do that there’s something here between us. You can’t just ignore it and toss that all out the window!”

His face screwed up in an effort to keep the onslaught of tears at bay. Perhaps what he felt for you wasn’t yet as strong as what he’d call love, but he wasn’t very far from it. He cared too much for you, so much more than anybody else in his life.

He needed you. And because of that, he had to let you go. Fraternizing with the enemy wasn’t something to be taken lightly. If his tribe knew about this little escapade of his, they’d have his head and would finally have a good enough reason to declare war. Regardless, it was only a matter of time. The Fire Tribe has hated Icers for centuries and centuries, teetering on the brink between neutrality and complete bloodshed. 

“We have no choice,” The words were said in a low tone, rumbling deep down in his chest. Seonghwa shuffled closer, so close that you could feel his familiar heat wavering against the ice once again. You longed to reach out and place your hand on his chest, feel his heart thumping against his ribcage frantically, just as yours was. “Do you know what they’d do to you - to us - if our tribes found us together? It’s too risky, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.”

“I’m a healer. I can take care of myself! And we can just stay careful like we always have. Besides, people rarely come into the Grey Forest anymore!” Your words came out fast and jittery and panicked. You thought that you had already come to terms with losing the man that stood in front of you, but you were far from acceptance, you knew that now.

Seonghwa carded a pale hand through dark strands of hair, “I’m sorry, were you not the one that told me to go back home? You started this. You wanted this!” He was so agitated that when he swung his arm back to his side, small crackles of fire lit up his fingers.

Something inside you snapped, “I most definitely did not! It was just… all too sudden and I needed time to think. Now that I’ve already thought, there’s no need for us to run away and never see each other again! You’re overexaggerating, Seonghwa.”

“No, you don’t get it. Don’t you know, Y/N? Our tribes are verging on war. We’re supposed to be enemies, you and I. Don’t be daft!” His voice raised a notch or two louder, and you found yourself shrinking into yourself.

Tears pricked your eyes and you looked away from his fierce gaze, “We don’t have to be a part of that. We can just -”

“Just what? Pretend? We can’t play picnic in the forest and act like our people aren’t planning to slaughter each other!”

“You know what?” You shouted so loudly that the birds nesting on treetops fluttered away, a mass of dark wings and agitated squawks. “If you want to walk away from this relationship, from me, then go ahead! I won’t stop you. Fuck you, Seonghwa. Fuck you for throwing this away the moment it became something more.”

“You were the first to push away!” He protested, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“Well, I’m sorry!” You cried out, furiously swiping away the tears that dribbled down your cheeks. “I’m sorry I was scared! I’m willing to try again, but you’re not giving me the chance. I waited for you every day, you know.”

“I know. I saw,” He said, suddenly quiet. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

The two of you stared at each other defiantly, heavy breaths misting the air in front of you. His nose was tinted a deep pink, no doubt because of the cold.

“I’m leaving,” Seonghwa said after a long while. “And you shouldn’t come back here. Ever. I need you to know, Y/N. I’m doing this because I care about you. I expect you to do the same for me.”

Then, after casting you a forlorn expression, he tore his blazing eyes away and stiffly swiveled around in the snow. A gust of wind tousled his hair and he blew out a sigh of pale white mist. The cold made his nose red, and you subconsciously noticed the way he shivered slightly, brushing snowflakes off his sleeve. You’d miss that.

You’d miss him.

His heat grew fainter as his long strides took him further away from you. Your tears had crystallized on your cheeks uncomfortably, a frozen reminder of what you’d lost. You had half the mind to storm right up to Seonghwa and force him to stay here, by your side. That was the child speaking within you, however, and you were no longer a child. 

Flicking the solidified salt water on your cheeks away, you did just the same as Seonghwa had minutes ago, trudging your way back to Icer lands. Little did either of you know, the two of you cried fresh tears along the whole journey back. 

The last time you ever stepped foot in the Grey Forest was just the day after. Your eyes were puffy and aching, hair a terrible mess, and a wax-sealed envelope was tightly clutched in your hand.

There was a chance that Seonghwa would never come back. In fact, it was most probable that he’d never get the precariously written letter you left by the usual meeting place, considering what he told you yesterday.

Fond memories sunk its sharpened claws into you, stealing away your breath as you cupped both hands over your mouth, overwhelmed in every way possible. You were far too drained to cry, having emptied away all your tears the day before.

And so, you brushed stray snowflakes off the periwinkle-hued wax stamp, placing it down by the tree stump where Seonghwa usually sat. 

Then you muttered a quiet, broken goodbye, stomping back to Icer lands. You were never going to see Seonghwa again. 

Dear Seonghwa,

I know you told me to never come back. I won’t, I promise. I just wanted to leave the letter because… we never properly got to say goodbye, did we?

Well, congrats, you big dummy. You’re right. You always were, and you always are. We were never supposed to be friends. I mean, I suppose we’re enemies now, aren’t we? It was quite the foolish fantasy we had going on there, huh? I get it, we have to stay loyal to our respective tribes, we can’t risk getting caught, so on so forth. I just hope that when war is declared (which doesn’t seem to be long from now, to be quite honest), I won’t see you on the battlefield. I don’t think I’d be able to handle that. 

So, I guess this is goodbye. It’s a little hard to believe that I won’t ever get to see your stupid face again. Remember when I threw a snowball at you so hard that it broke your nose? You panicked and blood went splattering everywhere and it didn’t stop until I got you to calm down. For a highly-ranked Flamer soldier, I’d expect you to be less squeamish at the sight of your own blood. It’s alright, though. As a healer myself, blood still freaks me out just a bit.

I thought I ruined your pretty face for all the poor ladies and gents who were mad in love with you back at the Flame Tribe, and I felt so guilty. And then you smiled! I remember feeling envy and astonishment at the same time because how the hell could one look pretty while smiling through a broken, bloody nose? 

I’m glad I didn’t ruin your face, though. You’d probably get really mad at me if I did. But you would’ve forgiven me eventually, right?

Frankly, I don’t know if I deserve your forgiveness for what I did. And no, I’m not talking about hurting your precious face (they say a once-broken nose makes a man more attractive!). I’m sorry for pushing you away, Seonghwa. Really, I don’t know what I was thinking. I was scared and I needed time to think. I hope you understand that. If you don’t, that’s okay as well.

If I could rewind time, I wouldn’t have stopped kissing you. I could’ve carried on for days and days and days on end. Did you know that you’re the second person I’ve ever kissed? Don’t ask about the first, drunk Wooyoung isn’t really something to brag about. Well, for the record, you were the first kiss I actually enjoyed. Congrats.

Of course, all this doesn’t mean that it was entirely my fault. I waited for you for a week, and you did nothing but hide behind trees and watch. That was real shitty of you, to put it plainly.

I’ll miss you, though. I’ve never felt this way about any Icer and I doubt I ever will. Of all people to set my sights on, it just had to be a Flamer. What rotten luck we have.

Goodbye forever, Seonghwa. Stay safe, alright? For my sake.

With much love,

Y/N.

Seonghwa read the letter through so quickly that his pupils seemed to be moving at lightning speed. Then, with a numbed heart, he read it a second time, this time much slower.

By the third time he reread each of your carefully handwritten words, warm tears of salt water were running over his cheeks. His face had grown considerably hotter, the salty liquid steaming misty tendrils against his skin. He was angry. So, so ridiculously angry. At himself, at this stupid rivalry between the tribes, at you for being so goddamn perfect. Of course you’d managed to squeeze in jaunts and jokes in a farewell note.

There was a part of him that wished he’d never come back to the Grey Forest and found the letter. Fat droplets of his tears trickled down his jaw and soaked through the parchment, marring the intricate ink characters. With a gentle sigh, Seonghwa brushed the dampness away and stiffly flicked his wrist.

The letter burst into glowing orange flames. And Seonghwa watched on, stifling down the urge to break down into a fit of chest-wracking sobs, until your goodbye was nothing but a measly pile of blackened ashes on his palm.

#ateez x reader #ateez seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x reader #ateez #park seonghwa #ateez smut #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez x you #ateez fanfiction #ateez seonghwa #ateez fantasy au #ateez imagines #ateez angst #seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa x you #ateez fanfics

[littlestarrykenobi]

Spin the Bottle (Akaashi x Reader NSFW one shot)

Summary: You are tired of Akaashi’s dual personality toward you and decide to get to the bottom of it with a bottle of wine and a late night alone. 

Warnings: NSFW, name calling, quickie, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 2793

The day you moved in you knew that Akaashi was going to be a troublesome roommate. The landlord assured you that the boys she already had living in the room were nice young men, one of them hardly ever home in the first place, and since you were desperate for somewhere to live before the start of term you didn’t figure that you had much of a choice otherwise.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto cheered as he set down the last box. “Barbeque dinner time yeah?! You promised!”

The door to Akaashi’s room was already shut before you had the chance to answer, leaving you alone with the silver haired extrovert. What you didn’t realize was that Akaashi had his back to the door, cheeks bright pink as he slid to the floor, staring at the ground as he tried to collect himself. He had hardly the occasion to speak two words to you before but he’d seen you on campus freshman year and now…? Well, he’d have to talk to you… unless…

You and Akaashi have been basically battling back and forth leaving each other subtle hints for nearly two months. The crush came fast, made of little reminder notes left on bathroom mirrors for both you and Bokuto and cups of coffee left hot for you on the kitchen counter in the mornings. You caught him sneaking little glances out of the corner of your eye before and it was sincerely sweet how he’d work late with you at the small kitchen table, his books spread over half of it while your side was just as messy. He’d make you little snacks at midnight, bring you coffee during especially strenuous study sessions, but when you would try and joke with him like you would with Bokuto he’d shut you out completely. It seemed almost impossible to you that these two men, so opposite in personality, could be such close companions but… You supposed that crazier things have happened.

“Oh come on Akaashi you and Bokuto have to have a little more in common than that,” You teased one evening.

“What do you mean?” He asked quietly.

“Well how is it that a guy like Bokuto who’s all machismo and confidence make friends with a-” You watched as his face fell, a blush on his cheeks as he shut his laptop hard.

“I should be getting to the library.”

“Wait, that came out wrong I-”

“No, no I’m not offended I really have to be going.”

Then you’d sigh and slump in your chair, working alone again. You were getting tired of how evasive Akaashi was, especially since you and Bokuto were really starting to get closer as friends.

“You just intimidate him!” Bokuto promised you one night as you sat at your favorite small dive bar. “He’s not used to having two pretty faces to deal with!”

“First off I’m not that pretty and second off how could I be intimidating?” You laughed, shaking your head as you took another sip of your drink.

“Well, okay, Akaashi only had like… Two girls he ever went on a date with that I know about. Being his best friend, I think I’d know! So… What are you going to do huh? Maybe you could get him to do a movie night when I’m gone next weekend.”

“You’re going to be gone?” You muse, thinking it over. It’d be nice to spend more time with Akaashi and besides… The mystery had a little bit of an allure to it.

As you and Bokuto walked home you thought about it more and more. Why were you so determined to be Akaashi’s friend anyway? What did it matter if he hated you or something, Bokuto was clearly happy with you being at the apartment and besides it wasn’t causing you any trouble so why did you care so damn much about this handsome fit setter? But that’s when it began to hit you. The kindness of those notes about things you had due, the thoughtfulness of how he started getting snacks he’d know you’d like for your midnight essay writing, staying up with you when he didn’t need to to cram for tests… You were starting to fall for the way he showed you how he loved you, even if he couldn’t say any of this out loud… yet. That next weekend, when Bokuto was away for a game, you were going to figure out if the seemingly insane thing your brain came up with had any merit to it whatsoever.

You hear Akaashi come home, the door slamming behind him as he dragged himself over to the couch. You could see how the semester was stressing him out, wincing as his tired eyes turned to you. He had hardly been home for the past two days, holed up in the library as finals approached.

“I turned in that paper, Y/N,” He said softly, a proud smile on his face. “I can finally relax…”

“Oh?” You smiled as you joined him on the couch, noting how he made just enough room for you but didn’t quite move far enough for there to be any more than a few inches between the two of you. “Well then it’s a perfect time for a wine night isn’t it?”

“Honestly that sounds.. really nice…” He mumbled, blushing and clearing his throat as he thought about the advice Bokuto gave him.

It’s obvious she likes you too! Just… Say yes to it! Go with what she wants to do and then you’ll figure out the perfect time when it hits, just like we always have!

That wasn’t how they always had, true, but he understood the sentiment Bokuto was getting at. Shutting down opportunities to spend time with you wasn’t helping him one bit so… Why was this so difficult? He let you run off, getting the bottle of wine and the opener before you sat back down, filling two glasses.

“To work well done and reward well earned,” You smiled, clinking glasses with him as you eased into the couch.

Akaashi blushed, nodding with the toast as he leaned back as well, absent mindedly wrapping an arm around your shoulders, his cheeks hot with embarrassment the moment he realized it. But it was too late now, wasn’t it? If he pulled away you’d for sure notice and then think he didn’t want to have his arm around you which he totally did but if he leaves his arm and you don’t want him to have his arm around you then he just comes off as creepy, doesn’t he? He’d been maintaining a distance between you two for his own protection but now that you leaned into the way his arm had been wrapped around your shoulders that had vanished into thin air… and what surprised him most was how grateful he was for its absence.

That small touch was enough to put him at ease, not thinking about how the wine flowed until you were both three glasses deep, sharing stories from high school as he told you more about how Bokuto would practically form mushrooms pouting when he messed up in Volleyball. He felt your weight shift a little to look more at him as he decided to finally get bold. A tad bit woozy, he set the glass down before taking your face in both his hands, squishing your cheeks and his legs onto the couch.

“I want… to kiss you.” He mumbled, his blue eyes flickering all over your face, trying to memorize the way you heated up as he made his infamous split second decisions. “But I cannot…” He whispered, bursting out into laughter as he fell back onto the couch, clutching his chest like his heart had been pierced with an arrow.

You crawled between his legs, leaning over him with a grin.

“I could kiss you then,” You offer, leaning in to do just that before he puts his hand over your mouth, his palm pressed to your sweet lips.

“No,” He whined, shaking his head firmly. “You can’t.”

“And why not?” You pouted, voice muffled by his hand and reminding him of Bokuto’s pout just enough to inspire a large goofy grin.

“Because if I kiss you… I wont stop… and I want to remember… everything about that, Y/N-chan.” He purred, his hand moving quickly to behind your head, pulling you down to rest your head on his chest, taking a deep breath as he held you. “I like you… a lot… And… I just want to fall asleep with you like this… Can you stay with me tonight?”

His voice had just the slightest whine to it, clearly reluctant to let you go even if it was just to walk down the hall to his room. He could hardly remember the rest of the night, his leg hooked in between yours so you couldn’t wander off, his arms wrapped around your body so you were enveloped by his warmth… He fell asleep in his clothes, not caring that he was in jeans and a button down which are arguably some of the least comfortable sleeping clothes one could wear. The next morning when his head stopped spinning he spent almost twenty minutes just staring down at you, admiring how peacefully you slept with him, sighing contentedly. This was exactly how he wanted things to be with you…

He almost began to pretend to be asleep when you woke up but the way you said his name, mumbling it before you cuddled into him… He smiled down at you, kissing your forehead softly.

“I know Bokuto-san will be home soon but… I… I wanted to…” He stammered, his cheeks getting tomato red as you looked up at him with such big loving eyes.

You didn’t give him an opportunity to finish his sentence, pressing your lips to his so sweetly he could swear that he felt a cavity pop up right as it happened. He smiled into the tender kiss, one hand gently tangling into your hair, pulling you closer as your bodies pressed to the other, desperately seeking their touch. He couldn’t fully hold back his moan as you rolled on top, happy to let you straddle him as you kissed lovingly over and over, his face radiating heat as he realized what you could probably feel despite his jeans.

“You know I’m sure it wasn’t comfortable sleeping in your dress shirt like this…” You mumble as your fingers delicately begin to work on his buttons. He lets a shiver run down his spine, the morning sunlight making you glitter like a deity above him as he lets you completely take control.

“If this is what you want I-” he whispered before you started to giggle, making him furrow his brow. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing,” You tease. “Last night you were all ‘oh if I kiss you I’m not stopping’ and here you are, letting me be the dominant one.”

Akaashi smirked, huffing a little as you challenged his dominance. He quickly started to help you with his buttons, slipping out of the shirt as he sat up, throwing the garment aside as he wrapped an arm around your lower back, easily flipping you onto your back. “If you’re going to hold me to my promises like that, my little flower, then I suppose I have to do my best to fulfill every last one of them.”

His hands slipped up your shirt, fingers playing with your nipples as he pressed his lips to yours again, tugging and rolling them between his fingers, trying to illicit any reaction he could as he nibbled and sucked your bottom lip, reveling in your every small moan or noise.

“Keiji,” You whine as he moves his kisses to your jaw, finding a sweet spot by your ear before going for the pleasure centers in your neck.

“What is it, my flower?” he purrs, backing off of you just enough to slide your t-shirt over your head and throw it to the side, abandoned with his own in the corner.

“Y-You said… Bokuto could-“

“I don’t want to talk about him. I want to focus on you.” He growled, clearly a little jealous that he hadn’t rid your thoughts of everything and anything but him right now.

“N-No, Keiji he could walk in on us if we a-aren’t… you know…” you mumble, blushing darkly as you melt under his intense stare.

“Well… Then I suppose I’ll have to savor you another time, hmm? I should just punish you now then, is that it? Punish you for teasing me?”

You blush, shaking your head as he pulls off your sleep shorts, smirking to see the arousal already evident. “No underwear huh?” He chuckled. “Figures. You know who finds your… dirty panties in the bathroom, don’t you?”

Your brain is practically melting now, thinking back and remembering times when you must have forgotten to pick them up after showers. You always had all of them, you thought at least, and he’d never brought them up before so you hadn’t noticed.

“What if Bokuto-san had found them, hmm? What would he have said?” Akaashi growled, his digits quickly making work to stretch you out for his waiting, throbbing member as one hand worked on undoing his jeans. “Unless that’s what all this was, hmm? Playing us against each other? So fucking dirty, aren’t you?”

He pulled away just long enough to take off his pants, leaving them exactly where he was standing as he crawled back on top of you now completely nude, still towering over you as he pressed a finger into your mouth, making you suck your own need off of them. “Now be a good little flower, won’t you? Let me fuck your brains out.”

His pace wasn’t meant to let you adjust. If you were going to bring Bokuto up, remind him how Bokuto could be back at any minute, ruin the morning he’d been dreaming of then, well, he was going to ensure your pussy would be made into a perfect sleeve for his cock regardless of what you thought on the matter. He sucked on your neck as he drilled into you, carefully hitting your sweet spots as he held your chest to his, leaving marks hungrily all along your exposed skin. Keiji didn’t care to let anyone have even the slightest opportunity to imagine you without being reminded that he’d be there. One hand slipped back down to your sex, fingers working at a furious pace to get you off as your orgasm approached. You two were practically animals in heat, howling for each other as you took advantage of Bokuto’s absence.

“Fuck I’m so close,” he muttered, not realizing that was the first thing he’d even been able to say since he’d sheathed himself into you for the first time.

“Come on,” he whispered into your neck, not letting up on his speed. “Fuck baby I need you to cum…”

He begged for your orgasm, fingers working like mad as he finally felt you climax, gasping as his eyes widened, the hand working your sex quickly going to his own as he squeezed hard around the base, pulling out as quickly as he could to spill his cum on your stomach, panting as he painted it white with his sticky juices.

“F-Fuck,” he chuckled, still shaky as he tried to catch his breath. “You certainly know how to… take it out of me…”

He sat back on his heels, admiring how beautiful you looked covered in his cum after your own orgasm. “If I had any idea where my phone was I’d take a picture but… I suppose I can wait for next time…”

“Next time?” You said, ears perking up.

He furrowed his brow, confused and a little frustrated. “Wait you didn’t think…? Boke.”

Akaashi shook his head, sighing softly with a light smile. “Let’s clean you up before Bokuto gets home alright? I think I… Can finally tell him I have a girlfriend…”

He gently stroked your cheek before getting a tissue, happily cleaning your stomach as he let you sneak back into your room, out of the view of the living room. He stood in the door to your room, wearing some casual sweatpants and an old volleyball t-shirt, wrapping his arms around your body for a moment and giving you a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Let’s go make breakfast yeah?” he mumbled.

“I was thinking pancakes!” Bokuto laughed as he passed by the two of you, heading to his room at the end of the hall, making Akaashi freeze. “By the way, a little quieter next time yeah? Might wake the neighbors!”

#akaashi x reader #akaashi smut #akaashi x gender neutral reader #akaashi x reader smut #rafabaebee #haikyuu smut #haikyuu setters

[starcrossedkaiju]

Kingslayer AU: Chapter 11

The big one! This literally took weeks to complete. I wanted it to be done.

We are inching ever closer to the end of this arc. Two more chapters I think.

This one is much longer than the recent ones, but don’t worry. That theme most likely won’t continue.

Warnings: // non-explicit blood, violence, and injury, Major Character Death(s) \\

Scar called upon all of his allies on an exceptionally cold evening, a wicked blizzard was blowing through the server as Scott walked hand in hand with Jimmy through the white-out. Even the desert wasn’t spared from the stirring storm.

A broken line of lights were ascending up Monopoly Mountain, all headed to the same meeting.

When everyone had arrived, warm drinks were passed around. Cleo, Bdubs, Tango, Scott, Jimmy, Grian, and the resident Enderman were huddled in the living area.

Scott was biting his nails, so to speak. He was pretty sure he knew what they were there for; and he was not excited. He sat next to Jimmy and begged that the Red Desert wasn’t going to start a war with Dogwarts. It was going to happen sooner or later, everyone knew that, but Scott felt an ounce of selfishness.

Things were going so well.

He was starting to feel like he was on the wrong side of history. Sitting in that room, Scott had been to Dogwarts after Grain and Scar had tried to burn Skiz’s banner. He was in the room when they started talking about war; and here he was again. In a room talking about war.

He was there for quiet conversations about nonstop threats from Scar and Grian, how they were going to protect themselves, and questioning why it had to be them.

Pizza was dead. The air was unstable, everyone could feel it.

Scar began talking about a plan to trap the Sand Castle. Grian was confident that their new bunker would protect them well enough and had even started moving their things out. Dogwarts was to be baited into the castle where Scar would be waiting for them, to pull the trigger and blow the entire building to smithereens with the Red Army inside.

The thought of it made Scott’s insides turn. He’d already jeopardized his entire mission by falling for Dogwarts, becoming their friend when he was supposed to hate them, he kicked up the dirt when he suggested that Etho’s house was flammable, another slip up and the house of cards he’d built could be pulled down around him.

The whole meeting Scott just sat on the couch feeling sick. Too cowardly to say it was wrong. When he knew it was wrong. Like always, he let someone else steer his life for him. Scott watched as everyone agreed and started leaving. A feeling of distance fell upon him as he walked back home, Jimmy in the lead this time.

Tomorrow. He only had until tomorrow to decide whose side he was on. Scott stared at the ceiling in bed, he knew he wouldn’t be seeing a second of sleep when his pager started beeping. Already knowing who it was, Scott quietly left the house once more.

Dogwarts was eerily silent on top, but a quiet conversation emitted from the living quarters. Every member was sat around the room conversing with each other about their plan of attack. Tango shot him a glance when he entered the room, his eyes went wide and he excused himself from his conversation with Joel.

“Scott?” He whispered scoldingly when he was close enough, shoving the other to the most empty side of the room.

“I can’t do this Tango, I’m telling them,” Scott whispered.

“What? No, no, no, you can’t back out now! My god- Scott how could you even come here?” Tango hissed through his teeth.

“This is wrong! You know it’s wrong! I can’t just stand by anymore, I can’t do this to them,” Scott tried to keep his composure. He pleaded.

“And what about the others? What about you? Us?” Tango asked, his face was pale.

Scott closed his eyes, he’d done everything in his power to give as little information as he could about the Red Desert Alliance to Dogwarts. He wanted to protect people, of course, but he knew there was no escaping the war. Even if he didn’t say anything tonight. Something would happen tomorrow.

His friends were wrong, he’d grown enough to see that.

“I’m sorry,” he said, drowning out the lump in his throat and turning away from Tango, who yanked his sleeve in a last ditch effort. It was too late.

Scott strode over to Ren, tapping him on the shoulder. The Red King looked down, dismissing Etho and addressing Scott.

“Hey dude,” he greeted.

Scott’s hands shook as he formulated his admission, “The Red Desert is going to war with you tomorrow,” he said. Plain and simple.

The horrific shock on Tango and Impulse’s faces could easily be read as concern for the Red Army.

Scott felt like he shrunk to the size of an atom as everyone took turns looking at each other. Ren brought a steady hand to his chin, resting it on his knuckles in thought. The lights glared pure white off his glasses.

He walked to the table in the middle of the room and gazed upon the map, leaning over it to ponder. Scott fell back against the wall, his heart was pounding in his ears. He wasn’t even paying attention when Ren started firing off about their plan of action.

He wasn’t listening when Tango yelled at him on the way home. All he could think about was what the hell he was going to do now.

The jig was certainly going to be up tomorrow. Someone was going to be accused of spying, and when one of them went down, so would the rest.

What would Jimmy think of him? Should he just come clean? Admit to joining the Red Army on accident and let him figure out how he felt about it?

It didn’t matter. Scott had three hours to rest his eyes, and spend possibly the last peaceful night he would ever have with his husband.

The morning was spent mostly in silence. Scott gathered his weapons and stocked his arsenal with potions. He stared at the wall and went over the situation in his head. Preparing goodbyes, apology speeches, everything he could think of that might go wrong.

“Hey,” Jimmy came up behind him, taking a fire resistant potion out of his hand, “I was scared you were gonna drop it if you floated away any further,” he sat down on the workbench.

“Are you scared?” he asked, taking Scott’s hand and interlocking their fingers.

Scott closed his eyes, leaning his head on Jimmy’s shoulder. He nodded his head, not in the mood to lie.

“So am I,” Jimmy confessed, “just promise me something?” he tucked Scott’s stray hairs behind his ears.

“No goodbyes,” he said. As if he was swearing it into existence.

Scott nodded, doing his best to smile optimistically. He held out his pinkie finger in a gesture of promise. Jimmy hooked his own pinkie around it and shook it a bit, leaning forwards to touch foreheads with the other before leaving to get his armor.

They left at dawn and shivered all the way to the Red Desert. It was exceptionally cold that morning. Like the weather was also fighting in their war. A small group of people was gathered at the bottom of Monopoly Mountain. Most of them were sat sharpening their weapons and counting their arrows. Scott spotted Tango and shot him the most apologetic look he could manage before excusing himself to talk to him.

“Tango,” Scott started.

“You know they’re going to be here any second,” Tango said, “so why don’t you tell us about the plan like you did for them?”

Scott was making his mind up about what he should say when an arrow shot into the sand near his feet. He looked up, scanning the tree line.

It was too late.

Everyone gathered on the sand snapped to attention, drawing their weapons and forming a group opposite to the Red Army. Scar was shaking his head, asking himself how this could happen. Scott walked wearily to the frontlines, his free hand was taken by Jimmy.

Everyone in the Red Desert looked at each other, then Scar raised his bow, and that was it.

Scott was jumped by Impulse. Better him than anyone else, even if his blows were a bit harder due to bitterness. They went back and forth stealing glances at the rest of the battle where a few mounds had been constructed to hide behind.

Impulse kicked Scott onto his back and kneeled on his stomach, taking his air. He leaned in, sparing nervous glances to their surroundings.

“I hope you got your fill of righteousness,” he hissed.

Scott gasped for air, “this was going to happen whether I had a part in it or not,” he said.

“How could you?!” Impulse shouted, but whatever else he was going to say was stolen when Bdubs rushed him from the side, throwing both of them off of Scott and into their own cloud of dust.

Scott breathed in a lung full of dust and rolled over, stumbling to his feet and spinning around to gauge the battle. It was a blur. His mind flew to looking for Jimmy. Someone grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind a shield, where a stray arrow plunged into the wood.

“Where is Grian?” Tango shook Scott’s arm, sweat was rolling down his face through a coat of brown dust.

“I don’t know! I haven’t seen him since..” Scott froze.

Tango seemed to read the pallid expression on his face and nodded encouragingly.

Scott didn’t finish his sentence. He threw himself to his feet and sprinted across the battlefield, towards the border of the desert. A series of blueprints he’d seen all those weeks ago flashed through his head as he ran. Dodging arrows and slamming into his fellow server mates.

Finally, he rounded a barricade and saw what he was hoping not to see. A few hundred yards away, Scar was taking Ren and Martyn in battle. Inching ever closer to a disarmingly empty plot of land. Scott knew that if you weren’t aware, you’d barely be able to see the tiny windows sticking out of the sand.

“Scar!” he called out.

Nobody heard him.

Even if they did, there was no time.

The ground under his feet rumbled, causing him to drop his weapon before a flash of pure light pierced the air. He heard screams for a moment, but they were quickly drowned out by a wall of fire ejecting itself from the ground. Scott was knocked off his feet and launched through the air.

He hit the ground with a painful thud, but he didn’t come to a stop until he’d bounced head over heels a few feet further.

Scott’s nose was pressed into the ground as he rolled around in pain. He pushed himself to his knees with shaking arms.

In front of him was a gigantic, jagged crater carved into the ground. Smoke and fire billowed from its crude maw. Scott coughed and tried to wave away the suffocating ash to no avail. It permeated his eyes and throat.

Scott realized he had been rendered deaf for the moment, and partially blind for that matter. He struggled to his feet and outstretched his arms for balance, falling over twice before his purchase returned to him.

Someone grabbed his arms from behind and spun him around, touching his face and holding him up steadily.

“I can’t hear!” Scott shouted, pointing to his ears in case whoever it was didn’t understand him.

“Can’t see you,” he pointed at his eyes and then at where he assumed the person was.

The person took his hand and formed it into a fist, then interlocked their pinkie with his own.

“Jimmy?” Scott asked, he rubbed his eyes but his hands were taken away. Jimmy positioned his face gently and he felt water in his eyes, washing away the charred debris.

His vision returned to him as the stinging in his eyes subsided. Not so much the same for his hearing, but that was okay. Jimmy hugged him close and looked him over one more time, before tracing the word “stay” on Scott’s palm.

Scott nodded, watching the other go off into the smoke. Probably to help people.

Something moved in his peripheral vision. Through the black smoke came a figure. Scott recognized it as Scar. He was climbing out of the crater. His movements looked painful, he was dragging something behind him.

It became apparent when he hoisted the object over the edge of the crater that Scar was dragging a limp Grian behind him. He laid the other out on the sand, hovering over him with concern etched on his face.

Scott crawled over, shouting to see if Scar could hear him. He pointed at his ears and shook his head. Scott wished he knew human sign language.

Scar turned his attention back to attempting to wake Grian, who wasn’t moving. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. Sensing that Scar was beginning to get very upset, Scott told him to sit back.

First he tried patting Grian on the chest, tapping his forehead, then observing him for any sign of breathing. His lips weren’t blue yet, he was still alive. Scott took his fist and pressed it deeply into Grian’s sternum, then firmly rubbed up and down.

Grian didn’t move at first, then his eyes flew open under his cracked glasses. His arms shot up to cover his chest and he cursed profusely at how he’d been woken up. He’d probably have a bruise for a while.

Scott motioned for him to calm down and breathe. Count to ten and back, and so on. Grian followed his instructions, wiping the dirt from his face and off his probably useless glasses.

Once he was sure Grian and Scar were fine, he quietly excused himself. The dust has started to clear now and the silhouettes of Dogwarts and the Red Desert alike were milling around, nobody seemed to be fighting anymore. Presumably lost without their respective captains. Scott’s ears has started ringing, and behind the din he could hear the ghosts of people shouting.

Scott idly counted the people around him. Some were huddled over a hastily constructed furnace attempting to brew last minute healing potions. As he counted, he kept coming up short. He counted again, and again. Every time there were two people missing.

He turned back to the crater. Whose smoke had started dissipating into the sky. He knew who was missing, and as he stared into the gaping wound of the earth, a hand reached up to the sky. Then came down on the jagged cliff, pulling the rest of the body to the surface.

Ren fell in a heap at the edge of the hole. Breathing hard from his journey to the top. Scott didn’t know whether or not to offer him help. His sunglasses were nowhere to be found, probably crunched beneath the debris of the bunker and the rest of the desert, and he was covered in a layer of collateral grime. It painted his clothes black and made his yellow eyes stand out.

He pushed himself to his knees with a lot of trouble, scanning the destroyed battle field with a mirthful expression until his gaze fell on Scott. The way in which they locked eyes made Scott flinch, he was in big trouble.

His mind told him he needed to diffuse the situation, but he was still without most of his hearing. It would be even harder if Ren had also been deafened. A familiar “why me” rang through his head. The urge to just leave and call everything quits nagged at him.

Ren stood on shaking legs and made his way, as quick as he could manage, into Scott’s personal space, who backed away; but he yanked his arm.

He stared talking very fast. Scott saw his mouth move but barely any noise actually processed in his mind. Scott shouted as clearly as he could that he couldn’t hear. Throwing in a few sorry’s as he went.

Ren dragged his hands from the tips of his ears down his face in frustration, his fingertips left smudges on his cheeks and over his eyes. He began doing sign language, but Scott shook his head.

By now a small congregation of people had started observing the argument from a distance. All of them more privy to what Ren was mad about than Scott was. Heat rose to his face in embarrassment as he tried to talk over Ren, trying to explain himself. Ren had started yelling as if it would help, and the argument was getting visibly heated when Jimmy stepped in.

He pushed Ren back with force so that he stumbled. This seemed to cause a chain reaction. Ren shoved Jimmy back, and they went back and forth until Jimmy threw a punch.

Scott attempt to make them stop, he came between them and ordered them to calm down, but tensions were far too high for any de-escalating. His emotions were verging on a serious breakdown, frantically begging the fight to stop. To let him explain.

Nobody heard him. If they did, they didn’t care.

Ren had taken out his damaged axe and started swinging.

Jimmy kicked Ren in the stomach, the ladder fell on his back and Jimmy kicked him again.

“Jimmy stop it!” Scott shouted, and he could almost hear himself.

Jimmy looked up at him, still standing over the Red King. His eyes were furious.

Something passed quickly in Scott’s periphery, so he turned around.

Behind him, one foot still propping himself out of the crater, was Martyn. A freshly shot bow still aimed in front of him. His eyes were dark and angry as he stared right past Scott.

Scott turned back to Jimmy, whose eyes were fixed and frozen on Martyn. He staggered back, looking down at his chest where a poisoned arrow had pierced his battle-worn chest plate. His hand wrapped around the projectile, and as if he weren’t even thinking, he wrenched it from his flesh.

Jimmy’s expression read as shock. Right before his eyes rolled into his head and he fell like a load of bricks onto his knees, then his back. His fingers were still wrapped tightly around the arrow. Covered in a mixture of blood and sickly green poison.

He fell, and he stayed.

Scott didn’t have a second to process. Not even the thought to scream, reach out, or run came to him. A blanket of nauseating numbness draped itself around him. His mind left him as he stared helplessly. He watched as Jimmy’s lifeless body grew tendrils of thorny vines until it was consumed indefinitely. Only an arrow wrapped in rose vines remained. Light green flowers bloomed and waved in the wind.

And as if he were watching himself on a screen, Scott did something that he didn’t know he could do. That he had forgotten he could do.

A flash of light illuminated the livid grey sky.

Just as fast, Scott had approached Martyn, who didn’t have time to run. He didn’t have time to put his arms in front of his face as Scott’s hand curled into a fist.

He brought his knuckles down on the center of Martyn’s face, an audible crunch sounded out as he was knocked off his feet. A horrified expression painted itself on his face as he held his bleeding nose.

Scott raised his fist again, and as he did a string of dry lighting spread across the sky. He aimed again, and when his fist met Martyn’s face, a bolt of light shot down from the sky. It turned the world into a pure white canvas with an ear piercing roar.

In its wake was a blackened patch of burning sand. Scott and Martyn sat just as they had been before, but Martyn would not get up.

His body lay bruised and burnt, eyes closed tightly in pain. The rose vines claimed his remains quickly, wrapping around a pair of bloodied hands instead of an arrow this time.

Scott stayed bent over where his friend had been. Tears streamed down his face as the static disappeared from his ears. He ripped his arms out of the thorns which tore at his bandages. Blood permeated the wrappings, but he didn’t know how much was his.

He pushed himself away, kneeling in the grave he’d created.

“Major,” someone said, cold and angry.

A hand planted itself firmly on his shoulder, spinning him around forcefully. Scott had only a second to see that it was Ren, before he was hoisted up by the front of his shirt and thrown across creation. Landing hard on his ass for the second time that day. His shoulder made a nauseating POP, hanging limply and awkwardly at his side when he pushed himself up.

Ren placed his foot on his chest to keep him down.

Behind Ren, the greater alliance of Dogwarts had gathered. Confusion and betrayal was etched on their faces.

“Not a word, Major,” Ren said. Low and forced, his eyes were blown wide with something like fear.

Then he raised the handle of his broken axe over his head, the hilt made contact with Scott’s skull.

Lights out.

#me writing this was like no shawty don’t do that 😫 #it’s almost midnight as i’m typing these tags pardon my unhingedness #kingslayer au #mcyt #mcytblr #3rd life smp #3rdlife #on god I really have to do all these characters tags #goodtimeswithscar #grian #scott smajor #solidarity gaming #impulsesv #tangotek #bdubbleo100 #zombie cleo

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

Kit and Ty’s reunion (Fan Fiction) - Part 7 - Let’s kick some Cohort ass

Title says it all. Just because I needed to see some Cohort ass get kicked. My kind of therapy. Characters based on Cassandra Clare’s (TSC) though I created one for the plot. Three years after TDA.

The two following days passed in a blur. Kit was returning to his bedroom after training one evening when he saw a package left on his bed. He opened it and emptied the content on his desk. There was a folded note and a necklace. Kit felt a jolt of uneasiness as he recognized instantly the whitish-green pendant with the Chinese characters carved into it. Even though he had only learnt a few Chinese words from Jem, and didn’t know how to read them, he knew exactly what the characters meant. When two people are at one in their inmost hearts, they shatter even the strength of iron or bronze.

It was the pendant Jem had offered Tessa over a hundred years ago, when he had proposed.

With a growing sense of dread, Kit opened the folded note and read. We hold someone you love. If you want to see her again, meet us at the following address. Alone. If you warn the Clave or anyone at the Institute, we will know. And what you’ll find there will be her dead body. The address printed at the bottom of the note seemed to be in a residential area, a 30 minutes’ walk from the Institute.

A flash of memories went through Kit’s head. Tessa smiling indulgently at him as he made yet another one of his bad jokes. Their banter about books and movies. Tessa carrying a giggling Mina and staring at Jem adoringly, as he was making faces to make them laugh. Tessa singing to Mina - loud enough for Kit to hear – the song his mother used to sing to him. Well, the mother who had given birth to him. Tessa was also his mother now.

When he snapped out of his daze, he was fully dressed in Shadowhunter gear. Thankfully, he always kept weapons in his room and was now heavily armed. He didn’t pause to think as he walked to the window and started escalading straight up to the Institute’s roof. He would not go through the corridors and risk being followed by someone at the Institute. He had noticed the way the Centurions sometimes seemed to suddenly appear out of thin air when he thought he was alone.

Perched on the Institute’s roof, he felt grateful for all the training Jace had put him through. He now knew that, as much as Jace could jump from unexpected, impossible heights, so could he. He had even trained to jump out of a Malachi configuration. Theoretically. Jace had smiled conspiratorially at the time, telling him it was a talent that could always prove useful.

He drew two runes, Heightened Speed and Surefooted, sparing a glance, as he always did, at the Voyance rune at the back of his right hand. He only paused to take one deep breath before jumping from the roof and landing gracefully on the ground. He murmured a silent thanks to Jace and almost wished his mentor were there for a high five.

He made it to the location in short time, although it seemed like hours to him.

He tried to circle around the meeting point, but it appeared empty. Just when he thought about doing another round, he heard laughter coming from an alley surrounded by two brick buildings. He peered his head. No one. He started as he heard a creaking noise behind him. Spinning toward the sound with his sword raised, he saw a familiar figure standing a few feet away.

It was one of the Centurions who had been assigned to his security. The Swedish blond girl, Kiersten Lindquist. She held a finger to her lips, hushing him, and slid silently next to him.

“It’s a trap” she said low in his ear. “I have sent Anush back to the Institute for reinforcements. I’ll distract them and you run. Don’t – and I repeat it – whatever you do, don’t let yourself get caught. It’s you they want. They will not hurt me if they are still looking for you. They would want to use me as bait.”

“But– Tessa…”

“She’s fine” snapped Kiersten. Then, more gently “please don’t mess up our plan.”

Wait– Kit thought, there was a plan?

Before he could ask, a dozen Shadowhunters – and it was plain they belonged to the Cohort - were circling them. They were calling themselves the Imperishable Order, now. Same shit, different name, thought Kit.

“Hey Barbie girl” drawled one of the Cohort members. He looked very familiar. “We have no quarrel with you. We just want the Herondale Faerie-slut. Leave us be and we will not harm you.”

“Manuel. I see you haven’t changed” said Kiersten calmly. “You’re still a disgrace to the Scholomance.” She drew her longsword and shouted “NOW”.

Kit sprinted, knocking down two Cohort members on his way, disappeared around the corner of the nearest building and scrambled up its wall with a dexterity that would make both Jace and Jem proud. Up on the roof, he could see six Centurions had been dispatched to look for him. He glanced at the battle taking place beneath him and heard shouts as a newcomer joined the melee and incapacitated a Cohort member in a record time, before turning to fight two others. Kiersten was fighting two on her own.

Kit decided to check on the hunt party. Only two of them had decided to climb the stairs up to the top of the building, while the others were searching the area. Suddenly, he heard in a loud, clear voice “STOP. STOP now, put your weapons down or I SWEAR TO GOD I will cut Barbie’s throat.”

He hurried back to stand at the edge of the roof, to assess the situation below.

Kit watched as the newcomer – a tall figure wearing a Centurion uniform – took a step forward and kneeled, laying his two blades on the floor. He raised both his hands as he stood. The moon lit his face. Kit gasped. Ty. No, no, no, Ty. I am so sorry.

Manuel strode to stand behind Ty, encircling him with his arms and lifting a knife to his throat. He was almost standing on tiptoe as Ty was taller than him, and it would have been comical if not for the dreadfulness of the whole situation.

A few feet away, facing them, another Cohort member had Kiersten in a headlock.

Kit had to force himself still. His hands were clutched into fists, his entire body trembling with the urge to fight. He kept repeating Kiersten’s words in his head. They will not hurt me if they are still looking for you. They would want to use me as bait.

“Well, well, look who we have here” said a woman’s voice and Kit recognized it at once. Zara Dearborn.

“Is this… Julian Blackthorn’s younger brother? The weird one? Well, whatever they say, he is hot as hell.”

Manuel laughed. “I figured you would say this, Zara. We all know you have wet dreams about Julian Blackthorn. No shame in that. You know what they say, keep your enemies closer and all that.”

Zara spluttered. “Seriously? You really want to talk about this? How about your crush on Emma Carstairs?” And in a mimicking voice, “Oooh Emma, you have such pretty blond hair and you’re such a badass, and you have this long, beautiful sword making up for my tiny, little…”

“Let’s make a truce,” said Manuel. “When we get back to Alicante, the Blackthorn Ken here will be all yours.”

“That’s actually a great idea. The look on Emma’s face when she finds out that her little brother-in-law and I…“

“I’m sorry, Zara, but this is not happening” said Ty, in a loud, clear voice, that didn’t betray a flicker of fear although he had a knife pointed at his throat. Kit felt a surge of pride. “No offense, but psycho bitches are not my type.”

Kit could see in the distance silhouettes running in their direction. He sighed in relief. Reinforcement was coming. He jumped from the roof and landed directly behind Zara, pointing his sword in her back in almost the same motion.

Several gasps of surprise.

“You think that jump was high? I can do it in my sleep” said Kit, showing off.

He winked at Ty then, who was glancing his way, pride glittering in his eyes.

Kit knew he needed to stall until reinforcement arrived. Admittedly, the Cohort members were already doing most of the job.

“So… Manuel, I have to admit I am a bit jealous. You see, I have been fantasizing about holding Tiberius in the exact same position for years now.”

Ty, who had not betrayed a flicker of emotion until then, flushed a deep shade of red.

Manual smiled viciously. “Oh, I see. I guess all Faeries are queers.” And then, he spoke in Ty’s ear but loudly, so everyone could hear “So, who’s the bitch?”

Ty didn’t answer but looked pointedly at Zara.

“Let me translate for you, freak. Do you hump him? Or does he hump you?”

“Come now, Manuel. This is the 21st Century. Keep up” said Kit, flashing his best smile. “We believe in equal opportunities.”

“OK guys, did I miss something? did we really run into Cohort members or some hormone-crazed teenagers posing as such?” it was Barbie – sorry, Kiersten – who had just spoken.  

No one answered as this was the moment when Jace appeared out of nowhere and knocked down the person who had her in a headlock with the flat of his sword.

Kit pushed Zara away, with such force that she ended up sprawling on the floor.

He instantly turned to where Ty was standing… looking down, his foot resting on top of Manuel’s body, which was writhing on the ground. Manuel was staring at his hands, his forearms, which were covered with red rashes and blisters, his face a mask of shock. A powder substance was eating away his knife, which had somehow landed a few feet away. 

Kit saw Ty put away a small vial filled with red-purple powder, with a satisfied look on his face.

All hell broke loose.

A fleeing Cohort member was swept off his feet as a whip circled around his foot and Isabelle, looking like a warrior goddess, pulled vigorously.

An arrow lodged itself in Zara’s thigh as she tried to stand up. Alec, standing a few feet away, had already pulled a new arrow. He looked… bored.

Kit knocked down another Cohort member using only his right hook. Because, well, he could.

In a few minutes, they had rounded up the wounded and tied their hands behind their backs.

The party that had been sent to search for Kit came back to an incongruous sight.

Zara, Manuel and the other Cohort members who had remained with the Centurions were now huddled together in the middle of a circle made by Anush, Kiersten, Ty and Isabelle, who was slashing at the air with her whip as to make a point to whoever thought they could chance an escape. Kit thought she looked like a hot school teacher scolding her very, very naughty pupils.

The search party turned around, making a run for it… only to be met by Jace. He was leaning casually against the side of the wall, his arms crossed.

“Hey, guys” he drawled. “Looking for something? Your dignity, maybe?”

One of the fleers launched himself at him, weapon raised, and Jace simply ducked out of the way as he drew his own sword.

Kit sensed a movement behind him, just as he was facing another one. Glancing backward, he saw that Ty had joined him to cover his back. He felt heat – the heat of the battle, the heat of Ty's body so close to his – as they fought back-to-back, four opponents at the same time.

Alec and Jace eventually joined them, and it was almost over before it had started.

The remaining Cohort members joined their friends in the circle where Kiersten, Anush and Isabelle had remained. Isabelle had put away her whip and was staring at her nails.

Clary finally swept in, gracefully, not a single hair out of place, and started drawing a portal.

“Sorry we are late” she said, standing next to Simon who was carrying large paper bags. “We had to stop to buy us dinner.”

*****

Hope you’ll enjoy reading it, as much as I did writing it @heloisacosta23 @arangiajoan @nenyx @naerysthelonesome @adoravel-fenomeno @eutonyinwhisper  @chlo-tk @the-blackdale @thechangeling @herondalebitchh

#cassandraclare #cassandra clare #cassandra clare fan fiction #tsc #tsc fan fiction #tsc fanfiction #tsc fandom #tmi fanfiction #tmi fanfic #tmi fandom #tdp fanfic #tdp fandom #tda #tda fanfiction #kitty tda #kit x ty #ty x kit #kitty blackstairs #kit herondale #kit and ty #ty and kit #tiberius blackthorn #ty blackthorn #jace herondale #alec lightwood #jemma blackstairs #emma carstairs #julian blackthorn #the shadowhunters chronicles icons #the shadowhunter chronicles

[theonlygamergost]

He didn’t hesitate - Dream-ing SMP au

I was one of the people who wanted to see Wilbur blow everything up at the festival, and I also want to see Phil on the Dream SMP, but since he isn’t on the server... what if I mixed these two things that didn’t happen? 

~~~~~~~~~~

The Dream-ing SMP au is an au where Wilbur, Techno, Tommy and Tubbo join Phil’s Minecraft hardcore world, right after they joined, Wilbur gets a mysterious fever that makes him sleep for three days, while asleep, he dreams about the Dream SMP. So now, Wilbur will have to deal with the feelings and events that happened in the Dream SMP knowing that he dreamt them himself, All while living in Phil’s peaceful hardcore world.

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

Cw// Jschlatt, Dream SMP festival - Tw// Swearing, TNT, (almost) Drowning, Angst, lots of angst, mention of nightmares?

This is very angsty, just saying, be ready to cry.

~~~~~~~~~~

Enjoy!

“Let the festival begin!” Tubbo exclaimed, everyone wondered why he had said such a line when the festival of Manburg had been going on for almost an hour now, but the line wasn’t meant for them.

From the top of the building he was standing on, he jumped down in broad daylight, running for the back of the hill, “WILBUR SOOT?” Quackity noticed his brown coat instantly, moving the attention of the president to him.

Both Niki’s and Fundy’s screams of his name were drowned by the adrenaline pumping through his blood, he jumped over the fence and dug the dirt covering the room with the button, he looked once more at the sign singing the L’Manburg anthem, sighed, and pressed the button, bolting outside once again, climbing over the hill to get a better view, he yelled “TUBBO, TECHNO, TOMMY RUN!!!” On cue, Techno started up his elytra meanwhile Tommy jumped off the same building Wilbur did.

Tubbo was about to jump off the stage to run towards him, to run in the woods, and finally join him in Pogtopia, but Jschlatt grabbed his arm,” Where are you going Tubbo? Are you following orders from that guy instead of mine?” Tubbo stuttered, Schlatt giggled, “Of course you would, traitor” To the sight of the president of MAnburg grabbing Tubbo’s arm, Tommy turned around and loaded his crossbow, ready to shoot at Schlatt and free his friend, but it was too late.

Everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong in that exact moment.

Techno’s wings got shot, making him fall, Niki kneeled down to help him, the explosions had already made the blackstone stage and the seats in front of it disappear and Tommy, at the sight of his friend disappearing in a cloud of dust, froze still, “TOMMY RUN!!!” Wilbur shouted, running back towards a TNT-danger zone, but the blonde boy had also disappeared in the explosion by now, a cloud of dust engulfed the British boy in the brown coat.

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

Wilbur sat up, sweat, tears, and heavy breathing clouded his mind and plagued his body, looking around frantically, the sober pattern of smooth stone, cobblestone, and oak fences welcomed him to the simple house, purple shulker boxes disposed in a line pointed at a pair of wings and a striped bucket hat, “P-Phil?”.

By the wall of chests, Phil was grabbing materials and mumbling to himself, his name being cried out by Wilbur made him turn around, “Will! Mate! You finally woke- Are you… ok?” The bright smile turned into a more preoccupied expression. Leaving the lists of things he needed on a shulker and sitting next to Wilbur on the red bed, Phil touched his forehead to find out it was boiling and covered in sweat, “You have a fever… that explains it” he mumbled to himself, making Wilbur even more confused.

“Explains what? And why are you here? Why am I here? I’m supposed to be in the Dream SMP Phil!” It was Phil’s turn to stare blankly at Wilbur, “Dream SMP? What are you talking about? Also, why wouldn’t you be here? You came here with Tubbo, Techno, and Tommy a couple of weeks ago now, did you forget about it?” At the sound of the names of his fellow Pogtopians, he asked where they were, to which Phil simply pointed outside.

The two young boys were playing happily with some of the dogs, giggling and running in the morning’s bright sun, a glass building with bees, and a fence full of cows could be seen in the distance.

“Techno left to mine some more netherite for you all, he won’t be back for a while”.

Knowing that everyone was safe made his heart rest a bit, only to get preoccupied with the fact that the older man didn’t know about the SMP “But what about the war? The election?” Phil sighed, getting up from Will’s bed “The fever must be getting to you Wilbur, you are speaking nonsense” Wilbur tried to complain, telling him about Schlatt and how he needed to get L’Manburg back, but Phil simply brought a hand up in a sign for him to stop rambling.

He took a cloth, dipping it into the cauldron and wringing it, going back to the bed, he gently pushed Wilbur down on his back and placed the damp cloth on his steaming forehead, “You slept for three days straight with a fever mate, it’s normal that your mind can get a bit delirious, I’m sure it must have been a pretty intense dream too, you kept shifting and whimpering, I think you cried a couple of times too.” Phil moved away from the bed again

A… dream? The Dream SMP was all… a dream?”

“Here, drink this” he helped Wilbur sit up-right again, giving him a glass of water, he started gulping down the liquid.

But it was all so detailed… he could feel the heat of the sun and the warmth of the other players…  he could feel the pain with each arrow and fall… everything looked and felt so real!

“Not to be a dick Will, but the sweat is starting to dry, if you don’t go wash you’ll start stinking soon” Phil interrupted his train of thoughts, “Plus, the water today isn’t cold, just a bit chilly, it’ll do you good, collecting your thoughts and waking you up… you might want to consider” Wilbur nodded, giving the blonde man back the glass after murmuring out a thanks for the water and the suggestion.

Getting up, the world started spinning, forcing him to sit back down. He waited a minute or so before slowly standing up again and leaning on the wall for support, his body did feel like he had been asleep for three days, his legs were holding him but they shook. As he looked down at them he realized that he was wearing his old skin: white tee, black jacket, and black trousers, it was definitely more comfortable than the L’Manburg and the Pogtopia skin.

Clicking the button to open the iron door, the bright sunlight blinded him briefly, while his eyes adjusted, some cheers in the distance brought him back to when it was just them, right after Eret betrayed them, Tommy, Tubbo, and himself, rebuilding the blown up L’Manburg while goofing around… the sunlight was just as warm.

The ocean surrounding most of Phil’s house was clear, you could see the bottom, the fishes and the sea lanterns.

Thank god in Minecraft you didn’t have to worry about your clothes getting wet, you could just jump in, feel the water on your skin, and be completely dry a few seconds after getting out.

So he did just that, taking a deep breath and inhaling as much oxygen as he could, he let his trembling legs give out and fall into the water.

In a second, everything went quiet, the cool water washed over him, getting rid of stress, sweat, and the effects of the fever, he felt reborn.

Just as he did when Dream gave him the TNT.

His forehead wrinkled, how was it all a dream? Tommy and Tubbo looked so peaceful while playing earlier, there is no way that they would have looked like that if the SMP happened, and Phil didn’t know anything about it? At this point, it had to have been a dream…

So if… hypothetically speaking… the Dream SMP… the wars… the betrayals… the election… the festival… If they were all a dream…

Did he create all of those situations? Did he think about Eret betrayal, all of those explosions, Schlatt winning, him and Tommy running into the woods…

Did he think about killing his friends? About making them fight in combat?

He made them suffer… he dreamt about making his friends suffer!

What kind of person does that?! What kind of friend dreams about those things?!

A faint voice called out his name, but his vision started to get darker… he was out of oxygen, but he was too occupied calling himself a monster… he was terrified of his mind… he was…

“WILBUR!!!”

In the last moment of consciousness, a shadow covered the few rays of sun filtered by the water while warm arms wrapped around him, pulling him upwards, then everything faded.

“WERE YOU NOT LOOKING OVER HIM??” “No- I didn’t think he would have just sunk to the bottom like a rock! He looked fine!” “Is he breathing?” “If-... He-... doesn’t-... soon-!”

As if a rock fell on his chest, Wilbur gasped for air as water rose up his throat, using his elbow as support as he coughed out the water that ended up in his lungs. He could feel the presence of people next to him, but he was too tired to turn and see who they were.

As he started breathing air again, he collapsed back on his back, the lights shined on the worried faces of Tommy, Phil, and Tubbo who where standing behind the man that was sitting on his knees in front of him, he was also panting and his clothes were also wet, after focusing on his face harder, he was able to see that it was Technoblade.

He gave him cpr...

“Will? Can you-... hear me? See me?” He nodded, Techno sighed in relief, using his hands to help himself up straight, he allowed Phil to kneel down next to Wilbur, sitting next to him up and cupping his face, “What the fuck crossed your mind, Wilbur?! Why would you not swim up to breathe?!”

He wasn’t paying too much attention to Phil, his eyes were focused on Tubbo that was holding his mouth, and Tommy who was hugging him, eyes clearly puffy from crying.

Then, behind the two teens, Technoblade emerged back from the water, with his royal red cape in a hand, and his shiny crown in the other.

Techno jumped in the water without taking his cape off…

The voice he heard calling his name in fear was Techno’s…

Techno saw Wilbur in the water and jumped in without taking his cape and crown off…

At that point, Wilbur started crying, gripping on Phil’s shoulder as hard as he could.

In the Dream SMP Techno did not hesitate to agree on helping Wilbur in his maniacal plan, without fear of his reputation getting damaged or getting his hands dirty…

… Just like he didn’t hesitate to jump in the water, even with the risk of damaging his cape and losing his crown.

#tw jschlatt #tubbolive #tubbo #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #ph1lza #technoblade #quackity #fundylive #nihachu #dream smp #fanfiction #my fanfiction #mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #writing #my writing #dream-ing smp au

[inky-does-art]

This will never be finished, edited or proofread.

Witness me

*sprays chrome into my mouth and taps Post*

Pairing: Kerillian/Kruber

Rating: General

So he was drunk.

Okay, maybe that was one bottle of Mückenhof Stout too many, or maybe it was a bit too warm in the inn or maybe he was just getting old, but Kruber could swear he got drunk too fast.

The world was spinning around him and his head felt oddly light and he was also pretty damn sure he would trip over his own legs if he tried to get up right now.

So he was sitting there on the courtyard wall with Kerillian by his side and he just kept taking big sips of the dark half-emptied bottle, kind of out of reflex as there was nothing else to keep his hands busy.

He didn't remember how they got here. He vaguely remembered they got back from Helmgart together, already tipsy, with a bag full of clanking bottles. Red Stirland wine they managed to dig up from a stash they found made Kerillian surprisingly giggly and lenient, to Kruber's and her own, like it seemed, amuse.

She was now sitting so close he could feel the warmth she radiated when she was with a fierce dedication trying to explain to him the intricate method of tying quills to the arrow.

Which was obviously hard when her own fingers betrayed the deep state of intoxication. Markus got actually tied to the entire thing four times already and she insisted on starting over. As long as it meant their hands got to touch, he didn't mind.

"Yer not l i s t e n i n g, mayfly," her scolding tone made Markus snap back to reality. "This finger goes here," she punctuacted it by placing it firmly in spot, "while you take the loop all around heeeeeer- hic! - eee."

"Uhm," he affirmed and chose to just stare at her long black lashes casting shade at ebony cheeks in the golden rays of a setting sun. He rarely had a chance to admire her from so close.

The ever-vigil Kerillian didn't seem to notice the prolonged stare at all. Instead she just groaned, flipped the wine bottle bottom's up and sighed.

"The wine is goooneeee."

"How's that possible, you just opened it."

"I need more wine if I'm to teach you a n y t h i n g."

"It's not like we have a decade of unpi-unip-tet-trupted practice, right?" He teased. "What am I, suddenly capable of gaining forbidden elven knowledge?"

Her eyes narrowed when she leaned even closer, her gaze piercing through him like trueflight arrows.

"Out of aaaaall the mayflies. And aaaaall the hunters. You, Markus," she painfully pierced his chest with a stern finger, "are the only person who c a n learn anything." Kerillian's face suddenly softened and for a long moment she just looked him in the eyes with an inscrutable expression. "I need more wine," she stated, and got up fast.

Which was probably a mistake with that much alcohol in her system as she leaned dangerously forward, swayed and before Markus could even react, fell straight on him, knocking the stout bottle in the process.

As much as he didn't know what to do with a very drunk, giggling elf suddenly on top of him, he felt assured she was safer horizontal in his arms than walking anywhere near the wall ledge.

"Oops," Kerillian commented and bursted in a fit of laughter and Markus echoed, trying to keep still as much as he could in a fear of this moment ending soon.

He had held her in his arms many times already. Mostly unconscious or wounded. And her hands had often laid on his chest, skillfully patching the wounds or keeping him out of trouble.

But this? This was different. This, for a short moment felt normal, like there were just the two of them, like no worries were ever troubling their minds.

She stopped laughing, her fingers gently circled on the fabric of his shirt, just a shy of touch, unsure.

"Keri..."

She looked up at him, smiled, huffed a short laughter.

"This is stupid," she muttered, closing the last space between them and kissing him gently.

If Kruber felt dizzy earlier, it was nothing compared to what he felt now with the sudden rush of his heartbeat, the initial shock and the realisation her lips are soft and warm and he wanted more. She tasted like... Wine, mostly. And maybe he didn't fancy wine at all but that way of tasting it was beyond pleasant, this was how he would want to get drunk for the rest of his life, this was...

What has your mother always told you, Markus? Never take advantage of a drunk woman!

"Wait, no," he blurted out but it was significantly hard to speak with elven lips hungrily tasting his own. "You're drunk."

Kerillian snorted and muffled another fit of laughter into his collar.

"No, yer drunk," she babbled with amusement.

#vermintide #kerillian x kruber #listen up I can't write I was just having a lot of feels and it was the anniversary event #oof #read at your own risk it's horrible lmao #i can't even english

[ilguna]

pyrrhic (Finnick Odair)

summary; Rosecelli protects herself and Finnick from traitors in their group.

warnings; swearing, murder and heavy gore.

wc; 1.5k

NOTES; FROM THIS BLURB THAT’S BASED OFF OF THIS SERIES.

double notes; listened to THIS song while writing.

--

“We can’t trust them, Peeta.” The words are clear as day, “You saw what they can do, how (Y/n) killed in the cornucopia. If they live, we won’t make it home.”

“Katniss, they saved me. You saw it yourself, Finnick pulled me from the water and saved me after the forcefield. They’re not bad.”

“The girl is.” Katniss insists, “You can’t tell me I’m wrong. The way she won in her games… the Training Center and her score… Peeta, we either run or we kill her and blame it on someone else.”

You settle on your back, now. Your fingers dance along the leaves while you’re making noise, and you end up finding your knife right where you left it. Buried in the dirt to keep it from hurting you, but still within hands reach. 

The talking pauses for a moment, you think that they’re worried you’ve woken up. They wait a while, not saying anything. When they speak again, it’s below a whisper, even quieter than it was before. But since the jungle is so dead, you’re able to hear their words as clear as day. As if the gamemakers purposely killed all the insects to make sure that the Twelve tributes would be heard.

“We should do it now.”

“Katniss…” Peeta trails.

“You want to go home, don’t you? You want me to go home?”

It’s manipulative, you can feel the tension in the air, and hear the moment that Peeta caves. There’s a quiet sigh that comes from him.

“Do we wait a little while longer, or do we do it now?”

“Wait half an hour.” Katniss says, “Make sure they’re asleep. We kill (Y/n) and Finnick if we have to.”

“What about Mags?”

“Mags…” Katniss trails off, “We can leave her.”

“She’s not going to come with us.”

“We leave her in the jungle.” Katniss clarifies, “We run. She won’t last long on her own, but I don’t want to kill her.”

Conversation drops off, the cicadas go back to their noise. You end up pressing your thumb against the blade of the knife, not wanting to doze off in this time. After traveling all day, running uphill and sweating, you’ve run yourself dry. You’re exhausted, and you nearly passed out the second you laid down. You’re glad you decided to wait it out to make sure nothing suspicious is going on.

Both Peeta and Katniss taking up watch? Right.

Katniss and Peeta don’t speak again until the thirty minutes is almost over. 

“I’ll get (Y/n). Focus on Finnick.” Katniss whispers.

Your heart starts to beat in your chest. If Peeta even dares to lay his fucking hands on Finnick, you’ll make sure to draw out his death. No one will be touching Finnick like that. 

No one.

You move the knife around in your hand, gripping the hilt. You can hear the shuffle of the leaves as they get closer. Katniss is clearly right over you, you can hear the scrape of the metal arrow against the metal base of the bow. Peeta seems to have stopped a step or two back, his breathing is heavy, he’s not very quiet on his feet.

You remember this during their games. Katniss is a hunter, an illegal one. She’s been hunting in the woods her entire life, has learned to be quiet on her feet. The shuffling must have been Peeta, who’s never really had to be quiet in his entire life. 

Unfortunately for Katniss, you know your ins and outs of using a bow. You’re a pretty good bowsmith yourself. You know the moment she inhales, she’s ready to let the arrow fly.

You spin towards her feet right as the arrow hits where you were a moment before. You’re on your feet by the time Katniss has another arrow loaded. You hit the bow up, aiming towards the star-filled sky. The arrow shoots at a diagonal angle, it won’t be falling onto anyone.

The blade of the knife is facing your forearm, and you swing the hand as if you’re going to punch her. When really, you’ve slit her throat. The blood squirts, hot and sticky and in your mouth, running down your face. You kick Katniss’ leg, making her buckle. Her hands have flown to her throat, coating in red as she tries to stop it.

You turn to Peeta next before he can have his go at you. His eyes are locked on Katniss for a moment, completely mortified by the sight of his lover drowning in her own blood. It’s easy to take him down, you sit on his hips, raising the knife above your head.

“You think you could kill me?” you snarl, spitting Katniss’ blood all over his face, “Fuck you.”

He reaches up, thinking you’re going to stab his head, but you slam it into his heart. His mouth opens, eyes popping wide, falling limp. The cannon is immediate, there’s no chance he survived.

You ditch the knife, slipping off of Peeta’s body as you pull your sword from the grass. You turn back to Katniss, still alive, eyes wide, mouth gaping. It looks like she’s begging for you to spare her, trying to apologize for something that she can’t take back.

You will not be killed by a pair of tributes from District Twelve of all places. Filthy fucking miners. Their district has always been fucking useless and a laughing stock. Here they are, proving that they’re nothing but that, yet again.

You swing the sword in your hand, pointing it right at her chin, “Who can’t you trust?” you mock, stomping your foot into her stomach.

Blood and air fly from her mouth, face turning blue from suffocation.

“Fucking pigs,” you snarl, “Nothing but scum on the bottom of my pretty shoes.”

There’s tears in her eyes, hands shaking on her throat.

“Come on Katniss, let me hear you say it. Who can’t you trust?” You balance the sword over her heart. She chokes, still no words forming on her lips, “It’s you, Katniss. You’re the fucking traitor.”

You push the sword in, leaning into it to watch the light leave her eyes. Another cannon sounds, signaling her death. You sigh, letting out all the air you were holding onto.

“What…?” you hear.

You look over your shoulder, eyes finding an awake Finnick and Mags in the darkness. You can hardly see them, but with the moonlight it’s easier. Finnick’s wide-eyed, staring at the bodies of your former allies. Mags has got her lips pressed together, her age is showing here.

“I just saved us, the correct reason is ‘thank you’.” you pull the sword from Katniss’ chest, “Go ahead and go back to sleep, I’ll take care of this.”

You wipe the sword on Katniss’ suit, and then toss it off to the side. You strip the quiver of arrows off of Katniss’ body and set it beside her bow. Finnick and Mags refuse to go back to sleep, and they watch your every move. How you sit Katniss’ limp body up, lean down and get her over your shoulder without a noise of complaint.

You walk some distance into the trees, and then drop her body onto the ground with no regard of what might happen. You walk all the way back to the camp to see that Finnick’s being helpful like he normally is. 

Frustrated, you grab him and make him face you, “I said go to sleep.”

“You can’t get Peeta on your own.”

“It’s not your problem. I killed them, I’ll put their bodies elsewhere. Go to bed.”

You let go of him, and repeat the process that you did to Katniss, with Peeta. Once his body is sat up, it takes you a moment to get him onto your shoulder, since he’s much wider and heavier. But the moment you’re on your feet, it’s easy to carry him. You dump his body right on top of Katniss’.

When you come back to camp, Finnick’s got a woven cup made out of tree leaves made for you, filled with water from Katniss’ sponsor gift. You drink it through, and then push Finnick to lay down next to Mags. With how tense he is, it’s going to be impossible to get him to sleep. And if you’re not going to be energized tomorrow, he needs to be.

Without speaking to him, you decide to fall back on a tactic that your mother normally did when you had restless nights of insomnia. Your fingers carefully comb through his hair, being gentle when it comes to tangles. At first, it’s gross, especially with how much you’ve been sweating all day, but you get used to it eventually.

You listen and watch as the hovercraft comes in, collecting the bodies from the Twelve tributes. They’re gone for good. You can finally relax.

Mags falls asleep relatively quickly. And considering the circumstances, so does Finnick. No matter what happens, you don’t stop running your fingers through his hair.

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #bodyguard au #meliorism

[writing-the-end]

WS Chapter 50- Tomato Egg Soup

Previous Chapter

Masterpost

How many of yinz remember us teasing about this? A pretty funky name for such a serious chapter though! Less than ten chapters left in the story, the end is approaching fast. 

Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland​

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block

Selene belongs to @to-dem-stars​

The egg isn’t in the room. A podium sits, bare and empty in the center of the barren cell. But marked against the red brick, Avon notices flecks of purple embers. Teleportation magic, the same that drifts out of portals. The same that’s left behind every time Selene teleports. The egg was here- but someone disturbed it. 

“Endo must’ve touched it before she left.” Avon whispers, brushing a purple spark into the air. It drifts slowly, but in a deliberate direction. “How will we find one egg in all of the nether, it could have gone anywhere in that direction!” 

“Hey, hey. Calm down and think.” Red tugs on Avon’s wing, trying to get her to breathe. All three are sweating against the heat, the sound of hell all around them. “You’ve been wrangling this egg for years, how do you normally find it?” 

Avon growls, but Ecto’s comforting touch does give her calm. “It...It likes high places. I often find it on the top of the obsidian towers back home.” 

“So we should look for the tallest structure here.” Ecto grins. “That’s not so bad. Let’s go get it.” Ecto sprints down the hall, only caught by Red a minute later. 

“The hellspawns can’t see that you escaped, or they’ll all be after us.” Red whispers, shoving a bottle of invisibility potion into Ecto’s hand. 

“Right, stealthy.” As much as Ecto wants to go running into a fight, she knows that’s just suicide. They want to get out of this alive. Ecto wants to get out of this with her friends by her side. 

“You two keep looking for the egg, once you find it signal me like when you found Ecto.” Avon perches at the edge of the bridge, the red and orange soup below her boiling. “Don’t scare it, or it could teleport again. And...be careful. If you risk being seen, abandon the mission. I can’t lose you two.” Avon tips off the bridge, wings opening and catching the rising hot air. She weaves between the pillars, below where anyone would think to look for her. 

Ecto and Red turn, uncorking the disgusting potion. Ecto grimaces.  “Bottoms up.” 

They both disappear, listening to the other’s footsteps to keep up as they flee the prison.. Ecto remembers seeing a tall tower while she was spying around. Even if the egg isn’t up there, they can get a view of other potential places it could have gone. “I can’t believe we’re chasing an egg.” 

“Jeane’s baby is a clever little thing, that’s for sure.” Red chuckles. The fortress seems to have calmed down, making him wonder where Selene is. Did she tire out and retreat? He knows she’s too fast to get caught, and she’d only break out as soon as she was rested again. His girlfriend can simply outsmart anyone she meets. 

The pair slip between hellspawns, feeling the heat roll off the hair, glowing off their bodies. Born in fire, made in the image of someone else. Someone from the overworld. Red wonders who these people are. Are they different, like Red and Ecto are? Lost, searching for friends and family? Or maybe they have their home, resting easy and unaware of the war brewing beneath their feet. 

“There it is!” Ecto cheers, picking up the pace as she spots the ebony shell of the egg. They aren’t the first to find the egg. 

The three hellspawns are standing over it. Blu reaches forward, about to nudge the egg with his sword. Nova grabs his arm at the last minute, hissing at him. Endo squats low, that dead gaze boring a hole into the egg. While Nova and Blu start to argue- again- Endo is silent, eyes lifting in a slow, steady pace. Staring at where Ecto and Red are. The two duck away, pressing against the wall of the bridge. Red peeks up the stairs, dodging the sight of the tallest hellspawn. “She can’t see us… right? We’re still invisible.” 

“Maybe she heard us.” Ecto hisses, looking over the brick wall. Watching the flaming trio as they surround the egg. “She must’ve scared the egg, causing it to teleport.”

“How are we going to grab it without them seeing us? Or without scaring the baby as well?” If Ecto could see Red’s face, she would see eyes brimming with worry, forehead creased with concern. And lips low from fear. 

“We do it quickly.” Ecto winks, though she realizes a second later that no one saw it. Red can only hear as Ecto stands, clambering atop the fence posts that rise up the stairs. Hear the soft plod of one foot jumping from rod to rod. 

Ecto is so close, she can feel the heat of her opposite. All she has to do is reach in, grab the egg and run. There’s no need to distract, no need to do anything crazy like before. She reaches through their legs, fingers about to brush the cool egg shell. 

Endo’s foot steps harshly on Ecto’s wrist, pinning her hand down and causing the desert rascal to cry out. Blu picks up the egg, hugging it close to his chest with a manic smile. Nova leans over, that charismatic grin beaming and blinding Ecto. “Quite clever, that escape of yours. But not clever enough.” Nova shoves a warm glass of milk into Ecto’s face. “Both of you drink up before we cook this egg sunny side up.” 

“I’ll say I’m surprised the weakest one came for you.” Endo mumbles, staring down Red as she reappears. An empty bottle of milk clatters to the ground at her feet. Both wanderers are visible now. “Is it that you need this one so much, or because the other left you behind?”

“None of that’s true!” Red cries out, crawling up the stairs. She tries to nab the egg from Blu’s hands, but he simply tosses it to Endo. 

“Either way, now we have all three wanderers separated. You can’t stop us, not the two of you. Two idiots does not make one smart person.” Endo looks at Nova and Blu, spinning the egg between her hands. “Trust me, I know.” 

Nova plucks the egg from Endo’s arms, running her fingers across the purple patches. “What about the egg, Endo? It keeps escaping.” 

Endo shrugs, grinning as she looks down at Ecto and Red. A dark, evil grin, cracking through the emotionless face. One that makes Red shrink away. Her words are like daggers of ice through the heart. “We don’t really need it. Go on, Blu. Destroy the egg.” 

Blu snatches the massive shell from Nova’s shocked face. “With pleasure!” He lifts it over his head. 

“No!” Ecto screams, kicking Endo in the back. Freeing herself with a smooth backflip. Together, Red and Ecto reach for the egg. 

Red tries to grab the egg from Blu’s hand. Tries to grab it before he can throw it, before danger can ever befall it. But Red misses. 

Ecto tries to grab the egg from the air. Tries to grab it before it can fall, over the edge and down into the sea of lava. 

But Ecto misses. 

Red and Ecto can only watch helplessly as the egg reaches its zenith, well beyond the fencepost surrounding the tower. It falls in slow motion, towards the soupy lava far below. Everything moves in slow motion. Ecto and Red rush to the fence, reaching out for one last impossible attempt to grab the egg. But it’s already beyond their reach. 

The egg, and all the hopes and dreams it carries with it, falls to the lava. The last dragon, a thousand years waiting for the right moment to hatch. Plummeting to a burning death below. All a horrible game for the hellspawns. A trap, a lure for the wanderers. Sprung, and left with them cackling behind the pair. Reveling in the horror as embers start to rise higher than the egg is falling. 

The lava sizzles, burning and bubbling. A black blur crosses paths with the falling egg. Embers burn against the fluttering purple cloak, put out by the wingbeats as Avon rises up to the tower. In her arms is the egg, snug against her body. Not even an ash stain on it. Her wings unfurl, cresting above her head in a midnight halo of scales. The lava beneath her illuminates her face, painting fierce shadows across her cheeks. Her purple cloak flutters to the side, caught in the warm updraft of the lava and the beat of her wings. “You’ve lost your bargaining chip, I’m afraid.” 

“Hell yeah!” Ecto shouts, grabbing at Avon’s cloak. Red latches onto Ecto’s lanky legs, and the three careen onto a broken bridge, the intersection long crumbled into the lava below. Their landing is not so graceful, Avon throwing the weight of the other two off her and crashing into a ball around the egg. 

From the tower, they can hear the hellspawns arguing and swearing. An arrow lands near the three, the tip burning bright fire. “You wanderers can’t run forever! There is nowhere you can go that we won’t find you!”

Nova is standing on the fence posts, another arrow knocked into Blu’s bow. She opens her mouth to shout something else, before something red strikes the boastful hellspawn in the lip. Both Red and Avon turn, seeing Ecto tossing another netherwart up and down in her hand. “Her voice really annoys me.” 

“We share the same voice.” Avon points out. 

“Her’s is too high pitched, too happy. It’s like listening to a parrot talk.” Ecto tosses the wart over her shoulder. “Let’s blow this joint, I think I’m tired of the red palette.” 

As if by magic, or more so coincidence, the frame of an obsidian portal appears before them. Selene’s face peeks through, winking at her partner and his friends. “Thought you guys were just about finished. Let’s get you guys back to wandering.” 

The three jump into the portal, nearly escaping a volley of arrows sent across by Blu. Once the three wanderers are crashing into each other in the soft grass of the overworld, Selene destroys the portal. Ecto rolls off the other two, stretching across the grass. Feeling the cool relief of the nighttime on her skin. She’s never been so happy to see a tree in her life. A laugh bubbles up from Ecto’s chest. “I can’t believe we just did that.” 

“What, escaped the nether? Or go into it in the first place?” Avon flutters her wings to standing, her grip still tight on the egg. 

“Both. And got the egg back.” Ecto still can’t believe they came for her. To rescue her. They really are her friends. 

Red leaps onto Ecto’s back, peering over her shoulder at the egg. “So this is it? Jeane’s baby? When’s it going to hatch?”

Avon looks down at the egg. She was more focused on Ecto, finally having all three together again. Together and without fighting. She can’t help but laugh. “The egg has been in stasis for a thousand years, waiting for the right time to hatch.” 

Both Ecto and Red get pouty faces. Red crawls over Ecto, somersaulting over her head and plopping in front of the egg. “So...not tomorrow? What about next week?” 

The forest rings with laughter, the wanderers and Selene letting out the tension of their bodies release in their voices. They huddle close, enjoying each other’s company. Red and Selene cuddle close, while Ecto and Avon find rest on each other’s shoulders. Food is passed around, reaching across the egg for sweet berries or a fresh cooked steak. 

As the sun rises, shades of pink and yellow arching across the open sky, the stars slowly disappearing as the sun grows brighter. For Avon, it’s a relief to be in the open air, free from the confines of the nether. It was Selene’s voice that breaks the peace. “There’s a war coming. You all saw it.” 

The wanderers look at each other, not willing to admit what they know is true. Red looks to Avon. “What will us four do? We can’t beat that many people, no matter how clever we are.”

“I...I don’t know. “ Avon admits. She’s never been in something this big, this complex. “We need to prepare, arm ourselves. We need…” 

“We need more people. People who are willing to fight, for the overworld and to be different. People unique and weird like us.” The way Ecto says weird, it’s not a curse. It’s a compliment. 

“The hermits?” Red questions. 

“And others. Other people who call our world home, willing to stand up.” Ecto adds. There are others across this world. Just as unique and different as each wanderer. Just as special. 

Red’s lip quivers. She doesn’t want to fight, she wishes they could find some other way. To battle without death, without ruining lives. If only there was a way for the hellspawns so see that things are better when people are different. 

But who would listen to him?

#wandering stars #ecto #avon #red #selene #minecraft #mineblr #minesona #mcsona #minecraft persona #writing

[buckybabybaby]

One Cold Hand, Two Warm Hearts

A/n: one shot for  @firefly-in-darkness winter challenge. Thank you for letting me take part! My prompt was 'ice skating accident'... I hope you like it!

Proof read by way of a text-speech device.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 2539

Warnings: Slight injury? Mainly just fluff.

Summary: Ice skating with Bucky Barnes.

Main Masterlist.

*****

The inhumanly cold hand tapping the end of your nose lets you know exactly who thinks its okay to wake you up before daylight on your day off. Bucky Barnes has had a key to your apartment for almost as long as you've lived here and often pops round unannounced, so often in fact that you have a section in your wardrobe full of the clothes he's left behind.

Since you moved in opposite Captain America's best friend five years ago, your life has not known peace. He's always found some way to draw you into his messes, right from the first meeting where, all in the name of being neighbourly, you'd helped him collect the fruit that had escaped out of the bottom of his paper carrier bag and scattered all across your shared hallway and staircase.

“Why do you need so many plums?” You had asked, and thus began a wonderful friendship you wouldn't be without.

Even with the pre-dawn wake up calls.

“S'early Buck. What d'you want?” You mumble into your pillow, burying yourself further under the duvet, too warm and comfortable to think of getting up.

“Ice skating! Hurry up, why aren't you ready yet?”

Whining quietly, you twist so you can peak at him over the top of your many blankets. Nobody should look that beautiful at seven in the morning, the dim light from the living room is creating a halo around his hair and making him look even more angelic than normal, and you only just stop your sleepy self from reaching out and pulling him in to lay with you.

“You forgot, didn't you?”

That kicked puppy look will be the death of you. Many people have told you you're completely smitten for him, and at times like this you can see what they mean; you can never say no to Bucky. The last thing you want to do is upset him or let him down, which is why you hold your hands out and allow him to half-lift half-drag you from your cosy bed and upright into the chilly air of your apartment.

Grabbing the warmest clothes you can spot quickly, you dart into your en-suite to change. “I didn't forget. Not completely. Just that it was today.”

How you forgot that, you don't know. Bucky has been so excited about it since you'd agreed to accompany him, the sparkle you'd seen in old photographs back in his eye every time he talks of New York winters in the thirties, when he and Steve would drive into the state to find a frozen lake to skate on.

At least for this first time he's agreed to take you to a proper rink.

Zipping up your coat, you snatch up your gloves and rush out into the kitchen where you find Bucky waiting impatiently.

“Ready?”

“Err, breakfast?”

“We can get something on the way,” He promises as he ushers you out of your home. “Come on, clocks ticking!”

*****

The car park for the Skating Arena is completely empty when you arrive, never a good sign when you know Bucky as well as you do.

“Is it even open at this time?”

“Not exactly.”

“Bucky! I am not breaking in-”

“We won't be! Don't worry, Sam is friends with the owners, they'll let us in. And this way nobody will bother us.”

You know it's more than that. Large crowds are nobodies best friend, and Bucky is recovering from years of trauma. His name may be cleared, and his new role as an avenger alongside Sam has brought in a fresh generation of fans who defend him loyally against the occasional bigot, but he still shies away from large gatherings of unfamiliar people. Following behind him as the sole employee who's in this early unlocks the front door for you both, you swear to yourself that, even if you don't, you'll make sure Bucky has a good time this morning because there's no one in this world who deserves it more.

The unmarked ice reflects the twinkling fairy lights strung around the edge of the viewing stands, making the rink look less like an intimidating sports arena and more like one of the cosy Christmas scenes from the postcards in Bucky's memory notebook. It's peaceful, and after fastening your laces you sit contentedly on the sidelines finishing your croissant and hot chocolate as you let him take the lead.

Bucky wobbles slightly when he first sets foot on the ice, making you snort.

Mock glaring, he beckons you towards him. “Come on then Y/N, let's see you do better.”

“Oh no, I know I won't be any good. But I haven't been boasting about how amazing I am for the last week.”

“Give me a second. It has been eighty years.”

You watch as he finds his balance and slides forward tentatively. He's tense at first, his movements stiff in fear of falling, but before long the muscle memory kicks in and he makes it a full circuit round the rink. Waiting until he's over on the opposite side again, you brave walking in the skates and shuffle over to the entrance gate. Clinging to the door, you put one foot then the other onto the ice, surprised by how slippery it is even just standing still.

Bucky passes by as you're dragging yourself along the barrier, not daring to move your feet off of the floor.

“Do you need help?”

“I'm good,” You reply.

It's obvious he's enjoying himself, letting you do your own thing as he zigzags all over the place, dismissing the arrows directing him anticlockwise around the rink, yet another benefit of it being just you. He laps you for a second time and you laugh, shaking your head at his smug expression.

You're half way round when you regret not excepting his help. Near the score board there's a section where the netting is gathered and blocking your way, forcing you to push away from the support of the side and glide past it. It's nerve racking and at one point you nearly slip over, eventually crashing into the wall when you make it across the gap as you have no idea how to slow yourself down.

You take a break, subtly catching your breath. Scraping at the ice with the tip of your skate, you admire the way Bucky makes it seem so effortless, every inch the natural he claimed to be.

Spotting your lack of movement, he skids to a halt by your side.

“Why aren't you skating?”

“I'm fine here.”

“No Y/N, that's not the point.”

Taking your hands his, he guides you away from the wall and into the middle of the floor. Bucky skates backwards as you try your best to keep upright, eyes locked on the ice in front of you.

“Eyes forward, Y/N. Then you won't crash.”

Looking up, he grins at you when you gasp, clinging onto him tighter as he pulls you along faster.

“Maybe try moving your feet,” He teases. You do as he says. “There! You've got it.”

You nod, a smile slowly coming back to your face as you realise that it's not that difficult with help. Maybe you'll never be as good as Bucky is, but it's a start.

After another lap where he's basically acting as your support, you let go with one hand and he moves so you're skating side by side, your rhythm becoming smoother the longer you practice. Glancing over at him, you find he's already looking back. Rosy cheeked and bright eyed, he's the picture of carefree innocence and you can feel yourself falling a little bit more as he squeezes your hand encouragingly.

The rush of love makes your heart stutter.

“I think you'll be okay now.”

Releasing your grip, he lets you go at it on your own. Your initial panic is soothed as he stays by your side, letting you get used to moving alone but not too far away if you need him, and when you look more comfortable he goes back to racing across the ice, occasionally whipping past you as you applaud his skill.

He's soon back, holding your hand and coaxing you to speed up, scarf flying behind you as you skate in circles together.

Then it all goes wrong.

“I'm going to pick you up now, okay?”

“What? I don't-”

Before you can finish your protest, Bucky's hands move to your waist and bring you into his hold. Lifting you up a couple of centimetres, his mistake is to try and spin you, as when you feel you're about to topple over your leg reflexively kicks forward, sending the blade of the skate straight into the vulnerable flesh of Bucky's shin.

Dropping you back down as he winces in pain, you struggle to keep yourself upright whilst also checking on his injury, not paying attention to how close the side of the rink you are drifting. Bucky hits it first and you crash into him in turn, both crumpling to the floor without grace.

You don't miss the way he catches you just before you fall, and how he's still shielding you from the cold ice when you come to a rest, his body heat seeping through the padded coat he's wearing as you lay in his arms in shock.

“Ow,” Bucky whispers from beneath you, snapping you out of your daze.

“Sorry!”

Scrambling off him and kneeling by his side, ignoring the melted ice seeping through your joggers, you gingerly reach out for his leg where you guess he's hurt. The way he's holding his organic hand awkwardly in his other worries you too but you have to deal with one thing at a time.

Rolling up the leg of his trousers, you are relieved to see his skin is only slightly red, and not pierced and bleeding as you feared. Satisfied, you replace his clothing and move on to his wrist.

That doesn't look so good.

“Can you stand?”

Using his metal hand as support, he picks himself up and slides to the next exit, where he sits on the end of the front bench and lets you perch next to him to continue checking him over. He's silent, watching you tend to him. When your trembling hands turn his arm over to inspect the dark bruise forming under the skin, you sniff, coughing quietly and ducking your head to hide the tears that threaten to fall.

Bucky notices. “Y/N.” Cupping your cheek with his cold hand he tilts your face to his. “It's okay.”

A couple of tears escape as you lean into his touch. “I hurt you.”

“I hurt myself.”

“But, I-”

“And I've had much worse. Don't cry.” He fishes a tissue out of his pocket and helps you dry your eyes. “Now, are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” You choke out, so full of love for this man. He's always looking out for others and it makes you want to hug him and never let go.

You're interrupted by the owner who witnessed the commotion over the surveillance cameras and has brought you an icepack wrapped in a cloth. Nodding in thanks you carefully place it over Bucky's injury, sitting back on the uncomfortable seats as he tries to cheer you up with a story about Steve breaking his arm on one of their skating trips back in the day.

“So you see, could be much worse.”

“You didn't say anything about this before!”

“Because I knew you'd never agree to come with me.”

“Maybe there's a good reason!” You exclaim, gesturing to his own arm and the icepack resting on top of it, which he goes to remove. “Hey, keep that there. It'll help.”

“I don't need it any more.” Taking it off and putting it down on the other side of the seat, he flexes his wrist without flinching in pain. “Super soldier healing, remember. It was only a little bump.”

Taking his arm back into your hands, you squeeze it gently, fascinated by how the bruise disappeared in minutes whereas on an ordinary person it would take a week. Sometimes you think he's more reckless because he heals so quickly, and whenever he's on a mission you feel like you hold your breath until he's home, the need to know he's back and safe just across the hall a clear sign that you care more for him than you admit out loud.

If one quickly healed bruise has you crying, you don't want to know how you'd be if he was seriously hurt.

Letting his wrist go, you hide your emotions behind scorn.

“What were you thinking?”

He sighs, looking away. “I wasn't. I was trying to show off.”

“Didn't really work, did it? And who were you showing off for?” You say, glancing around at the empty stands.

“You.”

“Me?” He doesn't answer so you push on. “Why?”

“Because I like you!” Something in him snaps, and suddenly he's standing in front of you, pouring his heart out. “Because I think I'm in love with you but I'm too scared to actually say anything outright so I do stupid things like this, hoping that you'll be impressed and realise you like me too. I'm sorry it nearly got you hurt. I don't really know how to do this.”

He sits back down with a thump after he's finished, emotionally exhausted. Staring at each other wide-eyed, you can't find the right words to respond, nervous laughter bubbling out of you as you think about how absurd this situation is.

“Please don't laugh.” Bucky's face falls. “Tell me I've read it wrong and you'll never feel the same way, but please don't laugh at me.”

“I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at us! Everyone says we're both as blind as each other, but I didn't know they were so right.”

“What are you saying?”

“That you don't need to show off for me. I'm already impressed, whatever you do.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So I nearly broke my neck for nothing?”

You giggle, rolling your eyes as you playfully push at his chest. “You didn't nearly-”

The rest of your sentence is cut of as his mouth meets yours, one hand twisting into your hair to guide you closer as the other slides around your waist to hold you against him. His lips are soft and insistent, never too much, leaving you wanting in the best way.

Of course he's a good at this. Nothing can compare to how it feels to be kissed by Bucky, when he's handling you so gently and yet making your heart race wildly, better than you'd ever imagined.

“Is this alright?” He asks, breaking away for a second to search your eyes, the cheeky grin on his face suggesting he already knows the answer.

“Hmm.”

“And has this put you off ice skating forever?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

“Good. So you'll come with me again next week?”

“Only if it always ends like this,” You say, pressing a quick kiss to his nose.

Bucky laughs in delight. “Deal.”

Laughing with him, you pull him into another kiss, forgetting all about the cold from the ice as the warmth between you grows.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #fireflyswinterchallenge #bucky barnes imagine #buckybabybaby

[war--lords]

Hanayome

Warnings: Female!Reader, mild family conflict, possible inaccuracy Word count: 3,648 Tagged: #hanayome Translations and important notes:

Irouchikake is a colorful variant of the bridal kimono, while shiromuku is the kind that is all white. 

Norito chants are a form of Shinto prayer/incantation.

Shimenawa refers to the special rope used to signify something holy, like trees, for example.

Tengu literally means ‘heavenly dog’, but in mythology, they are portrayed to take the form of birds of prey.

This has really gotten out of hand—I know it’s not nearly as popular as my other fics, but I genuinely enjoy writing this, going so far as to stay up late and make multiple edits :’) So I hope you enjoy reading it!

Part 1 Part 3

2.

Not long ago you were dressed in a rush with the help of at least four other miko, and now, an intricate hairstyle sitting atop your head and donning an irouchikake, you stand before the red gate, eager to make the ascent. Your garbs are especially audacious when compared to Kiku’s shiromuku: its scarlet base, just as the god Tengu demands, brings out the black-colored designs, and on top of that are auspicious imagery filled with white and outlined in what seemed to be gold thread. It appears to shine as you walk.

If Kiku looked like winter’s first snow, you looked like autumn’s burning foliage. 

Your attire is the last thing on your mind, however. It never crossed your mind that you would actually climb up those sacred stairs to the Seiiki just the way you imagined it earlier, while you were half-asleep and angry. There is still a low fire kindling at the bottom of your gut, but it is more determination than vexation. You’ve hugged Kiku and your mother after you got dressed—they held you in their arms as if it would be their last time seeing you, but a part of your demeanor shows as though you were only meeting the god Tengu to talk. You’ve yet to decide if that’s a form of denial. 

As for your father, you knelt before him and kept your head down for the appropriate amount of time. You don’t know what kind of face he made. You don’t really care.

Something inside you tells you that it’d be better for them without you. You hastily brush that thought away, realizing that the voice is the same one who whispers only ugly things to you. It’s not as if your fate is sealed, anyway—you’re adamant to show the god Tengu that he isn’t the only one with demands, and the first one you’ll declare is for that harrowing mark on Kiku’s neck to disappear. You won’t leave until it is done.

Then again, you’re not sure if you want to go back to the temple. Do you? Unconsciously your eyebrows knit, the first symptoms of your overthinking. You’ll deal with the problem when the problem arises, you decide. Pondering won’t be of much help. 

You look back to the unmoving scene behind you: your family, standing in a row in their ceremonial garbs, followed by the whole of the temple. They are all completely still, with little to no emotion betrayed by their faces. Only Kiku appears to be misty-eyed, most likely from how downright absurd the tables turned. As your gaze falls on her you spy the red string around her neck. You choose to flash her a small smile, but you find yourself not knowing what it means. “You’ll be fine on your own”? “I’m sorry it turned out this way”? “I’ll be back”? Somehow you mean all of that and, at the same time, none of them feel right.

You spare one final glance at your parents before walking out the red gate. Despite your mild fever, your steps are wide and sure, not as fast as the vision you saw in your mind’s eye, but just as driven. The evenfall rain thins out into a light shower. Still, you have an umbrella in one hand, the traditional lantern gripped tightly by the other. The young miko from earlier follows closely behind you—she volunteered to climb again because she was “already wet anyway”, but everyone insisted that she carried an umbrella nevertheless.

If the steps aren’t so slippery you would already be running, you mentally note.

Up and up you go, feeling the air change ever so slightly with each inhale. The rustle of bamboo leaves to your left and right becomes the new silence to your ears, with only the occasional whistle of wind as an almost musical accompaniment. Rain brings out a nostalgic smell from the ground—it reminds you that your feet are still on earth, and that the soil on top of Mount Kurama the same soil on top of which the village is built.

You think that the twists and turns of the steps are rather broad compared to what it looks like from afar. In person, it feels more like a gentle change of direction, and it makes you pay more attention to the mountain, like you are feeling where the ground is level and where it slopes. Your mind maps it out almost like a human body: alive.

The thought helps especially because it feels like you are climbing a stairway to heaven.

You preoccupy yourself with the topology—anything to stave away excessive, useless rumination. You find that norito chants prove to be effective as well. 

To your disdain, however, climbing a seemingly endless flight of stairs does things to your mind. It has to be quite a while since the start of your climb, and your eyes are beginning to spin from looking at the same pattern of stones many times over. The mantras lose their purpose as soon as muscle memory takes over, your lips mechanically forming the words, robbing your mind from the necessity to think it through. Your fingers adjust their grip on the umbrella and you purse your lips.

You can’t help but think about Kiku, and you briefly wonder if she thought about you too during her ascent.

It is not off the mark for you to assume that the holy steps are also a place of trial, for the things you recall about your shared childhood with Kiku seems to highlight only the darkest moments. You know that it was overall a pleasant, peaceful experience, growing up with her, but the steps… it’s as if every single bitter knot in the deepest crevices of your mind has surfaced because of it, no matter how small and ugly they may be.

She is the temperate lake to your forest fire.

Not exactly loving words coming from a father, but not exactly lies. Kiku has always been the milder one, and you know that this has led to her being more well-liked. She isn’t absolutely obedient and meek, but compared to you, she appears so. After all, you are always the one to question, accepting the argument that inevitably occurs in the aftermath. Perhaps that was why you weren’t as popular with the boys when you were young—you were close to plenty of them, but only as a friend, never a love interest. 

Kiku was very popular. Still is. In fact, when that fateful arrow shot the temple roof, many brave—borderline foolish—men offered a more... confrontational kind of solution in hopes of saving her from her destiny. Your father declined, however. They would simply perish before the god Tengu and further fuel his anger, which would do the village no favors whatsoever. You remember how it was the same back in the day—a lot of boys enjoy helping out Kiku, perhaps viewing her as nothing more but a powerless pretty girl, but you were always there for her first. Subconsciously, your lips tug into a small smile.

With that many pursuers, you wonder if Kiku had any lovers. You recall some who were close to capturing her heart, but she was very young and feeble, maybe a little scared of the idea about a relationship—especially after your father found out about one particular boy she was close to and drove him off, forbidding Kiku from ever seeing him again. His family wasn’t distinguished enough in your father’s eyes, this much you understood even while you were younger. You remember feeling angry about it.

“I swear I love him,” she cried in your arms that night, “so much...”

That was probably the hardest she’s ever cried in front of you.  

On the other hand, your luck was never in the romantic sphere, so to speak. There were men interested in you, but it never lasted. You had your fair share of rejecting their advances because you just thought a relationship wasn’t what you wanted, and you also had to go through some painful, confusing experiences with the man suddenly growing disinterested and leaving. It brought you an amount of self-doubt, which later on grew to become rooted insecurities that you somehow couldn’t blame on anyone.  

You’re sure Kiku has her own problems to deal with, a sentiment that you think she shares. This could be largely why the two of you were never gravely jealous of each other—a level of empathy and communication led the two of you to an understanding that you are different and it’s okay.

It’s okay. The thought serves more like a promise than a statement because you feel your legs begin to ache. The repeating stone patterns seem to be all your eyes can see and it’s starting to make you sick. 

Just a little more, you think, as the stairs make yet another turn.

——————————

You don’t know if it’s fatigue or fog, but by the time you reach the peak, everything seems so cloudy it looks like a dream. The air is significantly colder on top of the mountain, and you’re suddenly grateful for the many layers of your bridal ensemble—they are not made for warmth, but in its abundance you find comfort. The forest’s rustles fill the silence, though the wind isn’t as strong now.

In front of you are stairs no more, only single leveled stone path with flaming bamboo torches on its left and right despite the consistently light rain. Holy flames, you note, and the way it looks more white than gold reminds you of the arrow. There’s a faint throbbing in your chest, making you stop in your tracks for a moment. 

She will climb up Mount Kurama to meet her groom and dwell in the Seiiki with him forever.

You feel the young miko’s gaze behind you, watching, perhaps in concern from your sudden inaction. You allow yourself to let out a sigh as you start to walk again. 

Swiftly, the flames of the torches parallel to you disappear with a whoosh, as though they were blown away by something. You are indeed taken aback, but manage to keep your emotions hidden, continuing to walk the stone path. For all you know, there could be watchful eyes in places you can’t see—the god Tengu attracts devotees with many powers that can be used to harm mankind should he wills it. 

You walk on, trying to ignore the way each torch blows out when you pass them. You look up at the sky from under your umbrella—it’s so nice to finally be able to see it again, after what seems like hours of climbing and looking down at your feet to make sure you don’t slip. The night is dark and the rain remains insistent, but you can see the clouds beginning to drift away, revealing stars that look too close to be real. 

Not long after you discovering a wide clearing to what seems like a terribly unassuming, unmistakably old mansion, albeit not the kind of old that is worn throughout the years. It is the kind of old you don’t see, but feel. And yet its feeling is as plain as day, even the most spiritually detached can see it—that this is a place of utmost sanctity, one that a daughter of a head priestess such as yourself hasn’t experienced.

Shimenawa ropes are tied together from the bronze poles that surround the mansion’s court. Wordlessly, you turn around to look at the young miko—she already knows what to do, this being her second ascent within less than a day. From the bundle of cloth, she takes out a jug and a single rice ball, her meal before she returns, traversing down those same treacherous stairs to the temple. You watch as she makes herself comfortable, sitting down at a spot at the end of the path. Filled with sympathy, you wonder why she willingly undertook the task, and if you’ll ever see her again after stepping foot beyond the shimenawa.

Offering her a long bow, you take one last look at the miko—she can’t be much older than you—before bracing yourself to face the inevitable. According to the ancient decree, only head priests are allowed in the temple, but you suppose the god Tengu can bend as many rules as he wants as long as he’s the one who designed them. 

You lean down to grab the rope. Holding it above and over you, you step in, both feet touching the court’s cobblestones. Nothing happens. Were you not meant to be here, how will you perish? Thunder? Fire? A flock of the god Tengu’s hawks, from the stories, descending from the sky to pierce at your flesh and gouge your eyes out?

...or maybe an arrow to the heart?

Your chest throbs yet again. The many distracting thoughts your mind conjures make you feel like your head is crowded and full, so you decide to count each step you take towards the mansion. Its obvious entrance, marked by more torches, is facing you, the symmetry of the building conveniently letting you know where to go—straight ahead.

One. Two. Three. Four. Your heart starts beating faster than it should.

The sound of your geta on the ground echoes, five, six, seven, eight, and you watch the lights in the mansion. Somebody is home. You wonder if you’ve ever been this nervous, because by the eighth, ninth, tenth step, the butterflies inside your stomach have multiplied, their wings fluttering up a storm. A minor shiver racks up your spine and you feel your fever coming back twofold. There’s cold sweat on your nape.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen. You will yourself not to look back at the young miko—has she gotten enough rest?—for fear that you will abandon your mission. But you can’t. You don’t want to. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen steps in, and you remember Kiku’s neck, the crumpled paper from the arrow slipped in your obi, the white fire. Suddenly the butterflies are powerless, dissolving like cotton flowers on a lake. Your heart might still be beating as fast as a rabbit’s, but you feel purpose coursing through your veins. 

It takes you fifty steps to reach the mansion’s entrance, and by that time you feel the fog clouding your mind has been lifted. Besides the dryness of your throat, nothing else seems uncomfortable, even the heavy irouchikake isn’t as heavy as it was at the beginning of your ascent. You’ve never felt more present, more centered and grounded. All your doubts purged by the stairs, leaving you light but not faint. 

You are exactly where you need to be.

Realizing that your lantern is unneeded, you place it gently in front of the stairs towards the door. You walk up, counting each of them. Fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four.

The sliding door opens without any prompting, and you find yourself unsurprised. He is expecting a guest, after all—one that is supposed to stay forever. You look ahead, taking in the interior as much as you can without delaying your arrival too much. The god Tengu lives in the mansion of an emperor, which is arguably modest considering his godliness. A straight hallway lies in front of you, leading you to the next door. 

Your chest responds as the door behind you closes, this time not a dull ache, but a more powerful shudder. Strangely enough, you don’t find it painful anymore.

——————————

Kiku is right—the room is large, a throne room for royalty. He sits in the middle, at the very end of the room, like a languid yet expectant royalty. To an unassuming person, he appears to be just as human as you are, no more than thirty years of age. He wears the finest of fabrics, the designs on his kimono lavish and grand. Like the rest of the room, he wears scarlet lots of black, including a feathery cape on his back. His seat on the carnelian dais is simple in comparison to how you imagine most thrones would look like, but it is the ceiling-high decorations and ornaments surrounding it, colored in red, black and gold, that makes it impressive.

No, that isn’t right. It is he who makes it impressive. Intimidating. Powerful.

Just like in the stories, he has a face of a hawk, except that it is a mask. It covers half of his face, revealing only his mouth and the lower part of his face to view. You notice there are no holes for his eyes to see—the only explanation is that he doesn’t need them. The swoop of the hawk’s bill forms a sharp silhouette that makes you wonder if it can cut through skin.

The mask can’t, but the real hawk on his shoulder most definitely can. It watches you with caution from its perch, its yellow eyes seemingly shining through black feathers. You notice two black dogs, one on each side, sitting just underneath his feet below the dais. Under their paws are brilliant red orbs, which look a lot like their blood eyes.

“Come closer.”

His voice booms even from so far away, and it doesn’t look like he’s trying to be loud at all. You find yourself unable to take your eyes off of him as you walk down the room. The beating of your heart in your ears are deafening on top of the silence. Is it because you are facing a god that your mortal body can’t take it? You might be filled with resolve, but it’ll meaning absolutely nothing should your heart decide to explode.

With his hands he lets you know that he wants you in front of him—he steps down from the dais, and at that moment you notice that the cape you thought he was wearing turns out to be a pair of broad wings. The air around you moves as they flap once, as if to stretch. He waits for you.

Standing in front of him, you find your self-awareness extremely heightened. He is taller than you, with wider shoulders and an unmistakable aura of inhuman authority. Despite all this, however, he does not extort any fear out of you at all. In fact, he is strangely... comforting. Like something you’ve known your whole life.

Kiku’s voice rings in your ears just then. He said your name... he wants you.

“The paper,” he says, holding out his hand. There are no echoes to his voice anymore.

You reach for the crumpled slip and took it out, giving it to him with both hands.

He receives it on his palm, and instantly the calligraphic character on it emits a strong light, beaming up holy rays to the ceiling. You feel your breath knocked out of you—your chest. It’s hot. And then, excruciating pain. Too much for you to bear, too agonizing you can’t make a sound, your mouth feebly opening in a silent scream. It spreads through your nerves and you can sense them so clearly like they’re burning paths on your skin. Your hands clutch your chest in fear of your heart bursting out of your ribcage. Tears begin to form in your eyes, closed from the sheer pain of it all. 

A second later it’s over, the ‘marriage’ kanji returning to its dull ink color, and in that moment all the strength escapes your body. Everything—from the ascent, from your dream, from when the arrow first struck your home, from the years of your life before all this—they’ve all been let go from you, merely sands through your fingers. You’re about to fall face-first from the weakness in your knees but he knows, bringing you into his arms until you seem ready to stand on your own. His hands on your waist and back are pleasantly warm. 

“Red looks exquisite on you.”

“Yes, but it isn’t so flattering on Kiku. Reverse that enchantment on her at once.”

“My, you’ve always been one fireball, haven’t you,” he replies with a chuckle. It reverberates from his chest to yours, and there’s something immediately calming about the sound. “It has been done,” he says, showing you the paper in his hand. It doesn’t look much different, but you can clearly notice the absence of its spiritual force. You felt it first-hand.

As you slowly depart from the security of his arms, trying to regain your bearings, you feel his hand on your forehead.

“You are still warm,” he declares, emotions unreadable from under the mask. “We shall continue this somewhere more appropriate for you to rest.” He knows you have much to discuss with him—he is a god, after all. At this point, nothing should surprise you. 

“I’m fine,” you quickly say, and it suddenly strikes you that you’re not sure how to address him.

“Tengu is the name given to the people for them to worship me. To those who are in equal standing as I, I am called Nobunaga. You are my bride,” his hand wills you to look up, a finger under your chin, “thus you are my equal.”

His bride. It hasn’t sunk in yet, but somehow the title is now more palatable than when you first heard it. As if it were destined. You blink, hoping for the thought to go away. Perhaps being in close quarters with a god makes it easier for him to make you feel more inclined to his wishes?

But ‘Nobunaga’... how odd. It sounds like it could be the name of any other man in the village. You look at where his eyes are supposed to be behind the mask.

“Are you going to read my mind throughout the entirety of this meeting?”

“Only to warm you up,” he says, lips curling into a dangerous smirk. He turns around, walking towards a sliding door. With the pain in your chest completely gone, you follow closely behind.

#1.5k #hanayome #sfw #elievalentine #oda nobunaga #nobunaga x reader #reader insert #female reader #au #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #cybird #imagine #imagines #scenario

[salutmonmec]

EVEN THE DEAD DESERVE A SONG

an Elu Hunger Games AU

ao3 link

Lucas has been in love with the same boy since he was five years old. 

Now, he will be forced to fight him to the death.

What a fucking nightmare.

CHAPTER 1: THINGS FALL APART

… He is underwater.

It’s cold.

He’s sinking.

The surface isn’t far, and he can make out a blurry figure. They lift their arms, draw their elbow back until their hand hits their jaw.

An arrow breaks the surface, clips his ear. A cloud of red erupts on his left side. He can’t swim, never learned how. The elbow draws back again.

He is sinking in a sea of blood.

His mouth opens in a silent scream.

Lucas wakes with a gasp, jerking upright, a hand against his chest where his heart is about to burst from his ribcage. What the hell was that? The bright afternoon sun is beaming down on his nap spot, lighting the grass up to neon green and forcing him to squint. Lucas could not have been asleep for more than a half hour, but the troubling nature of his dream made it feel like years. He stands with a groan, joints popping. He gathers up his make-shift bow and slings the quiver over his shoulder. Only two or three more hours of light left, have to make this quick. A stick breaks about twenty meters to the right, followed by the sound of frantic hooves. Before he can help himself, a smirk splits his face. Perfect.

----

The buck’s head lands on the booth counter with a hollow thud, still bleeding a bit through the new hole in its left eye. Lucas rests his head on his arms, gently poking the soft fur of the beast’s ribcage. The booth’s owner, Ben, slowly gets up from his chair, flashing a wide gap-filled smile. He is on the skinny side, just like everyone else in District 12, cheeks always smudged with some kind of dirt. Right now, his eyes are lit up like torches.

“How the hell did you manage this Lallemant? You are a crazy son of a bitch, I swear.”

Lucas shrugged casually, shooting Ben a grin. “I have my ways.”

“Well bud, I can give you… 26 ration cards, should almost last you the month.” He leans over the buck, bending to Lucas’ eye-level. “The capitol changed the color again, this time a nice, deep, I’m-richer-than-you purple. Go crazy kid.” Lucas reached over and slipped the small mountain of cards into his bag, mouthing Ben a silent thank you and giving him a quick wink.

He turns around, slamming right into the back of an asshole. Yann spins around, ready to curse out the offender, but Lucas gets there first, sticking a middle finger in between his eyes. Yann lets out a loud laugh, shoving Lucas away playfully. “Fuck you, you shithead!”

“Wanna walk me home honey bun?” Lucas wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, making Yann roll his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, I’ll be out in a minute,” he states with a half-hearted wave as he turns back to the person he was haggling with. Lucas grins at him, shouldering open the door to the warehouse. Cool air hits him like a wave, the breeze lifting his hair off his forehead, drying the budding sweat on his skin. Peacekeepers march past him, their white uniforms glowing in the twilight. Who the fuck wears white in a place like this? Lucas looks down at his own clothes, torn and tattered from years of use. No matter how many times he tries to wash them, the black coal dust in the air finds its way into the seams. It’s as if the land wants to brand him, making sure that everyone knows where he comes from. You come from the dark, dank depths of the Earth, where no one ventures besides those who were unfortunate enough to be born into it. Never forget that.

A laugh shakes him out of his thoughts, head snapping up to find the source of the sound. A small head of tawny curls bouncing, a gap-toothed smile on her round, freckled face. Madeline Demaury, sitting on the shoulders of her big brother, laughter bubbling its way out of her mouth as he dramatically pretends to drop her. Eliott spins in a quick circle, his face now fully towards Lucas. God, he is beautiful. His blue-grey eyes are curled up in half-moons, mouth open, catching the tail end of a chuckle. His happiness is contagious, and Lucas finds himself struggling to hold back a smile. The setting sun is lighting up the Demaurys’ hair to an infuriatingly gorgeous shade of auburn. He pushes a flyaway strand of his straight, boring brunette locks away from his eye, cursing his bad genetic luck. At least he was fortunate enough to be alive at this very moment, witnessing the striking beauty of Eliott Demaury’s cheekbones, his long legs, shoulders deceptively broad despite his lanky figure. Fuck, he is beautiful.

“So, are you ever actually going to talk to him, or are you just going to stand there drooling all over yourself for the rest of your life?”

Yann’s strong hand lands on the shoulder that isn’t leaning against the warehouse wall. Lucas doesn’t take his eyes off Eliott. “Fuck you.”

As Yann snickers next to him, Eliott and Madeline sit down on their front porch steps. The front door behind them opens, and out runs seven-year-old Camille, launching herself into the lap of her brother. Eliott scoops her up, whispering in her tiny ear, making her giggle and nod enthusiastically. He sets her down, grabs her hand, leading her and Madeline inside the house. As the door shuts behind them, Lucas’ chest twists with a feeling he can’t place. He slowly turns, shoves Yann playfully. “What the hell are you so cheery about? You know what’s tomorrow right?”

“I for one, am not going to let the threat of imminent death stop me from roasting my best friend. What kind of life would that be?” He says with an easy smile, slinging an arm around Lucas’ shoulders. “Let’s get the fuck out of here before the Keeps’ come back.”

Lucas shoots one last look at the Demaury’s porch. The sun is fully behind the trees now, casting long shadows that flutter across the closed door, which, much to Lucas’ amusement, is painted a bright shade of baby blue. In this light, the house could have been abandoned, the warmth of Eliott’s presence long gone. Turning back towards Yann, his chest twists again, heart rising in his throat, threatening to choke him. Why do I feel like this is the last time I’ll see this?

----

An alarm blares ridiculously too close to his face. Cracking one eye open, he flops his arm across his body, slamming his hand in the direction of the obnoxious dinging. The clock slides off the edge of the table, hitting the floor with a loud thud. Still ringing, of course. Fucking hell. Lucas rolls his half-asleep body into sitting position, squinting at the light breaking through the cracks in his blinds, stopping the alarm with a half-hearted kick.

It’s Reaping Day.

Pushing himself off the tattered mattress, he sees his Reaping shirt, a blue-denim button up that he never really grew into, laid out on the end of the bed. Its folded, freshly washed and pressed. His mom must have been up for a while now. Throwing on a pair of faded black pants, he tugs the shirt on, slowly buttoning the front, shaking his head as the sleeves drop past his wrists. Frustrated, he rolls them up to mid-forearm. As a kid, he always thought his Dad was larger than life. Now at sixteen, he is starting to think he may have actually been right.

Walking to the bedroom door, he stops in front of the broken mirror to its right. Eyes a little too big, hair a little too wild, shoulders a little too slim. He rubs at a small bit of dirt on his neck, spits in his hand and tries to push his hair back into something resembling a normal human. His Dad’s shirt is hanging loosely on his frame, but he doesn’t mind. Everyone wears the wrong size clothes to the Reaping, spending money on extra ration cards rather than fancy shirts that will only be worn seven times in their life.

A rattle in the kitchen grabs his attention. Mama. She is scrubbing aggressively at a pot, the edges clanking against the edges of the small sink. She sees him in her periphery, turns her head and flashes him a warm smile. “You ready to go?”

He purses his lips, shoulders moving in a small shrug, “as ready as I can be, I guess.”

She sets the pot down, walks over to gently press a kiss to his forehead. “Only two more years, then we can move past this whole mess.” Glancing over his face, she wets her thumb and starts rubbing at a spot above his eyebrow. A laugh bubbles its way out his mouth as he scrunches up his face, shaking his head. “Mama, stop its fine,” he shoots a pointed glance at the small television set in the corner, “want me to get it set up for you?”

She waves him off. “Oh no, I got it.” She looks at him with a small, sad smile. “You know I would go, I just think the crowds would be a bit much for me today…” Lucas glances at the dark circles marring the smooth skin under her eyes, and nods. “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“I’ll be fine darling,” she kisses him on the forehead for the second time, lips popping with a loud smack. “Say hello to Yann for me!”

Sliding into his shoes, he pushes through the front door, Yann leaning against the railing at the bottom of the steps. His shirt fits him perfectly. Asshole.

“Let’s get this fucking over with, shall we?”

----

A large bead of sweat makes it way slowly down the back of his neck, tickling his skin as it catches in his collar. It’s getting close to midday, the sun huge and deadly in the sky. The stage is in the middle of a giant dirt patch, no tree in sight to provide some semblance of shade. Everyone between the ages of 12 and 18 in the entire district are being herded into the stage space. The fine, dark dirt getting kicked up by hundreds of shoes, swirling in the air like smoke. Yann and him are stuck in the identification line, waiting for a finger prick and a drop of blood to confirm that yes, they are in fact, Lucas Lallemant and Yann Cazas. He is trying to distract himself by staring intensely at a rock on the ground that looks sort of like a fish, when someone trips into him. Not just someone, a big someone. Lucas puts out a hand to steady himself, his other one landing on the waist of the offender before he can stop it.

“SHIT I’m so sorry…” Eliott rushes out, head whipping frantically from side to side, “Camille still needs to learn that running through people’s legs is not proper Reaping Day etiquette.” His blue eyes finally settle on Lucas. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Say something. Anything. Oh God. He nods instead, not trusting his mouth. His left hand is still on Eliott’s waist, but he can’t seem to make it move. Eliott’s gaze is warm, softly flickering back and forth across Lucas’ face. His cheeks betray him then, flushing so intensely it’s almost painful. Eliott’s mouth breaks into a smirk, eyes playful as he gently backs away, turning in the direction of Camille’s giggles. Lucas’ arm settles back down at his side, hand tingling like a live wire. He watches until Eliott’s head disappears into the crowd, trying to settle the rapid beat of his heart.

“Oh wow, are you gonna be okay bud? Do you need me to give you CPR?” Yann snickers, clapping a hand hard in between Lucas’ shoulder blades. His cheeks are even warmer now. “If you don’t talk to him after this is over, then I will.”

His brain finally starts to register his surroundings again, and he turns to give Yann a hard shove, grinning despite himself. “If you go near him, I’ll shoot you in the foot, I swear to God.”

After the quick finger prick and a few more snide comments about his love life, they shuffle their way into the section marked “16”. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the top of a messy head of tawny hair, standing in the middle of the eighteen-year-old section that is marked off closest to the stage. His hand feels like it’s buzzing. Get it together Lucas.

At that moment, the crowd of teens were hushed, and the familiar dramatic tune of the national anthem blaring through the crackling speakers. Footage showing the war plays on the big screen, hard to see in the midst of the blinding sunlight. The president’s booming voice narrates, explaining the origin of the games, why it makes sense that they have been sending twenty-four kids to the fight to the death for twenty-seven years. Yann pokes his side, sending him an eye-roll. Lucas raises his eyebrows, a smirk dancing on his lips.

The film ends, and silence follows. A chair moves on stage, heels click on the hard surface. Hurried clacks echo through the space, and a woman hustles up to the microphone, one hand holding up the massive pile of blonde curls on top of her head. Daphné Lecomte. The Capitol representative for District 12 for the past few years, although she could not be older than twenty-five.

“Jesus, I swear her hair gets bigger every year,” Yann whispers in his ear with a breathy laugh. Lucas coughs to hide a chuckle, garnering looks from a boy and girl standing in front of them. He grins down at the ground while Yann elbows him in the ribs.

“Welcome everyone, to the Reaping for the 27th Annual Hunger Games!” Daphné says enthusiastically, her ridiculous Capitol accent extremely apparent. “As always, we are here to choose the two people who will have the historic honor of representing District 12 in- “ A strong wind gust sweeps up the stage, threatening to topple her hair tower. She steadies herself, tugging down on her neon pink skirt, “ i-in this year’s games!” She claps her hands together in excitement, gesturing over to someone on the side of the stage.

Emma Borgès saunters over to Daphné, clearly already wasted out of her mind. It isn’t even noon yet. She stumbles over her own feet, falling right into Daphné, who tries to gracefully push her upright. Emma gives the crowd a fumbling, slow salute, then takes her place next to the bowl of names at the center of the stage, swaying lightly on her feet.

The only District 12 champion in history. She won when she was just thirteen, outliving everyone thanks to her affinity for climbing trees. The spectators of the 20th games decided the killings weren’t going fast enough, so they flooded the area. Nineteen tributes had already been killed or died from the terrain, the last four drowned in the flood. Little Emma had been high up in a tree at the time, making her one of the youngest victors of all time. She was never really the same after that, spending most of her days getting drunk at the single district bar once she turned eighteen. Now every year, the two unlucky tributes not only have to fight to the death, but also deal with a drunk Emma Borgès as their mentor. What a fucking joke. Yann always had a massive crush on her though. He sneaks a glance over at Yann, who is openly staring at her with a dumb smile on his face. Idiot.

Daphné shuffles her way over to the glass bowl, struggling to drag the microphone with her. She smooths her skirt once more when she is settled. “Alright, let’s begin!”

She peers down into the large glass bowl, filled almost halfway with name cards. Every single person in this room has their name in there at least once. The twelve-year-olds are placed in only one time, and every year older is another slip added. When you are eighteen, your name is in the bowl seven times, making it more likely that an older tribute is picked. This ultimately makes the games more enjoyable for viewers, as a bunch of scared little kids running around would prove to be boring television after a while. You can add your name more times in exchange for ration cards, which is what most families end up doing in District 12. He had heard a rumor that Eliott’s name was in the bowl 32 times, but he hoped desperately that it was exaggerated.

Daphné’s pink-gloved hand reaches in slowly, swirling the cards around, trying to build anticipation. Lucas’ chest tightens, his forehead beading with sweat. Twelve cards with your name on it. That’s it. Only twelve. Daphné finally latches on to one, lifting her hand out of the bowl with a flourish. The crowd unconsciously leans forward, watching with wide eyes as she struggles to open the seal with her gloves on. The card rips open, and she clears her throat, lips approaching the microphone.

He knows before she even gets the words out. Her tongue pushes against her bottom teeth as her mouth opens, forming the beginning of the “L” sound.

Time slows down.

His chest heaves.

This can’t be happening.

He doesn’t even hear her say it, barely registers the echo of the ending syllable. He sees Yann’s shoulders collapse inward with a shuddering breath. His feet move before his mind catches up, walking with slow steps into the aisle leading up to the stage. Two peacekeepers walk up behind him, one placing a hard hand on his shoulder. They push him forward, his body refusing to move at anything above a glacial pace. He shoots a frantic glance back at Yann, who is staring at him with wide eyes, shoulders lifting up and down with the beginnings of hyperventilation. Lucas steels his eyes, desperately hoping Yann can read him. It’s okay... I’ll be okay. Yann nods imperceptibly, only for Lucas. A tiny pang of relief overshadows the crippling panic for a brief second.

His leaden feet move up the stage steps, and he moves to stand beside Daphné. She wraps her arms around him in a light hug, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Lucas! Well, aren’t you a strapping young lad! Now, how old are you sweetie?”

She moves the microphone in front of his face.

He can’t breathe.

He clears his throat.

“Sixteen.”

Sixteen, and I am going to die in a week.

Daphné claps her hands together again, snapping Lucas out of his thoughts. “Let’s give a round of applause for the courageous Lucas! The first District 12 tribute of the 27th Hunger Games!”

No one in the crowd moves a muscle. Dead silence.

“O-Okay then!” She clears her throat. “On to the second tribute!”

As she reaches in the bowl again, Lucas lifts his chin high, surveying the sea of young faces staring back at him. His heart is in his throat. He lands last on a pair of blue-grey eyes, wide and stricken under dark eyebrows, mouth closed in a tight line. Eliott. The realization suddenly dawned on him, there is still one tribute left. Oh God please anyone but him, please… oh God ple-

“Madeline Demaury!”

And God decided to laugh in his face.

There were a few gasps from the crowd. It’s exceedingly rare for a twelve-year-old to get drawn. Even more so a girl. The kids in the “12” section start to murmur to themselves, parting to reveal Madeline, her curls braided away from her face at her temples, showcasing her wide eyes and rosy, freckled cheeks. She straightened her pale green dress as the Peacekeepers appeared on either side to bring her up to the stage, pushing her shoulders back, putting on a brave face. From his spot on stage, he could see that her right shoe was untied. She is so young.

Before she can take her first step, Eliott shoves his way out of his section, landing on his knees in the center aisle, a cloud of dirt huffing into the air as he scrambles to his feet. He moves toward Madeline, but Keepers jump into action, pulling his arms behind his back, keeping him rooted to the spot. Lucas watches, horrified, as Eliott struggles against their grip. He manages to rip one arm free before a third Peacekeeper latches on to him. “Let me go! Get tHE FUCK OFF OF M-” He whips himself around, trying to face the stage despite the vice grip on his wrists. He sends a murderous glare at Daphné.

“I VOLUNTEER!”

“I volunteer as tribute.”

This can’t be happening. Wake up Lucas, WAKE UP. He digs his fingernails into his palms, drawing blood.

He is awake.

This is real.

Daphné is still standing next to the bowl, mouth open in shock. She quickly closes it, and makes a gesture to the Peacekeepers. They release Eliott, pushing him forward, and he falls onto his knees with the force. Madeline cries out, squirming out of the Keeper’s grip on her shoulder, and launches herself into her brother’s arms. Lucas can see Eliott’s lips move at her ear, and she starts sobbing, holding him tighter. The Peacekeepers come up behind her, pulling her out of his arms, dragging her away. Her screams pierce through deafening silence, filling up the space, cutting deep into Lucas’ soul, suffocating him. Eliott gets shakily to his feet, eyes shining, and he walks with long strides up to the stage. He stops next to him. Lucas continues to stare ahead, afraid he wouldn’t be able to handle whatever expression settles on Eliott’s face.

“My goodness! This is so exciting! District 12’s first ever volunteer!” Daphné drags the microphone over to Eliott, holding it up to his lips. “What’s your name handsome?”

“Eliott Demaury.”

“Oh, let me guess, was that your adorable little sister?”

There is a beat of quiet as he swallows, clearly trying to restrain himself from slapping the hair straight off of Daphné’s head. Eliott’s eyes narrow as he leans down.

“Obviously.”

Daphné clears her throat. “W- Well, there you have it!” She squishes her way in between the two boys, grabbing both their hands and lifting them straight into the air, beaming with excitement. “A big cheer for the District 12 tributes of the 27th Hunger Games, Lucas Lallemant and Eliott Demaury!”

Maybe it was the heat that finally caught up to him. Maybe the vice grip around his chest finally cut off his oxygen supply. Maybe his brain short-circuited with the dawning realization that he was now in a fighting death match with who he thought was possibly the love of his life. Whatever it was, Lucas’ body couldn’t take it anymore. His right hand slides out of Daphnés grip as he sways to the left. He hits the ground with a dull thud, vision going black around the edges. The last thing he registers is a head of tawny waves blocking the sun in his vision, the edges of his hair glowing auburn.

God, he is beautiful.

And then, everything is black.

#so guys... I may have wrote a thing #my first fic ever #a fUCKIN hunger games au ahahahaha #if it goes over well... I'll write the new chapters asap #I'll post an ao3 link as soon as my account goes through #this is gonna be dramatic #but you can probably figure that out #Rated M for much violence and probably some sexy times at some point #skam france #skamfr #skam fr #elu #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #elu fic #my fic #even the dead deserve a song

[vanderlindeboyz]

RDR2, Arthur x F!Reader

For @oneshots-and-stuff. In which you and Arthur have a successful hunting trip, and a snowball fight snowballs into something else. I might continue this, I don’t know! Fluff with a little bit of something-something at the end.

You must have smeared the blood on his face while you were kissing and it made him look wild and violent.

Arthur stepped gently through the snow, following the tracks of an elk he’d spooked a little ways back. He knew the pelt and the meat would fetch a good price further south and so he was determined to take it. You followed behind, bow in hand. It had taken some convincing to go the quieter route. No one could beat Arthur’s shot with a rifle, but you were better with the bow. He had begrudgingly agreed to let you make the kill.

He held out a hand to stop you, whispering, “Keep low now. I think we’re gettin’ close to him.”

Nodding, you crouched and continued on. You had been up in the mountains for a few days now, hunting big game to bring back to camp. Arthur had claimed that everyone in camp was sick of eating deer and rabbits, but you suspected he’d just wanted an opportunity to be completely alone with you.

Suddenly he stopped, and gestured ahead. The elk stood ahead on the rise of a hill, grazing at bush poking up through the snow. Pulling an arrow from the quiver on your back, you took aim at the animal. In the next instant it was down. You were grinning ear to ear, but Arthur huffed.

“Don’t be so sore, cowboy. You’ll get ‘em next time,” you said, elbowing him. “Now go and kindly fetch my kill.” He rolled his eyes, but he cracked a smile and headed up the hill. Tossing the animal over his shoulder, he brought it down to you for field dressing. Once that grisly task was finished, he carried the animal down to the horses. Tying it to your mare, you mounted and headed back to the cabin.

It was a tiny little hunting cabin, abandoned but not in terrible shape. It was solid and had a good wood burning stove. As you pulled up, you hopped down off your horse. You quickly got the carcass off your horse and set it in a line next to your other kills.

“Darlin’, you’re makin’ me look bad,” he said, coming up next to you.

You smiled, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ve been doing this since I was a child. I should make you look bad.”

He moved away as you packed snow around the carcass. When you stood and turned, he was standing with a hand behind his back and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Arthur, what are you up to?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Just tryin’ to come up with somethin’ I can beat you at,” he said, bringing a snowball out from behind him.

“Arthur Morgan, don’t you dare throw that snowba-!” Before you could finish he launched it at you. Spinning, it hit your shoulder. “Goddammit!” Scooping snow into your hands, you flung a chunk of it at him. It fell apart in the air and sprinkled harmlessly around him.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that!” he yelled, grabbing up more snow and rounding it into a ball. It came flying soon after, hitting you in the back as you turned to run for the cabin.

Reaching the little porch, you took a handful of snow and readied a final shot. “Arthur! Throw one more and I’m locking you out of this cabin,” you hollered at him. He acted like he was going to throw another one, and in a panic you threw the snowball in your hand. It hit him square in the face, knocking his hat off.

“Ow! Goddamn, what was in that?” He reached his fingers up to his cheek, pulling them back to see blood. “You’ve wounded me!”

“Oh Jesus, it can’t have done that much harm.” Your eyes widened when you saw the little streak of red running down his face. Rushing over, you blurted out, “Oh no, I’m so sorry! It must have been a rock in it or something. I swear I didn’t do that on purpose!” You pulled off your gloves, gingerly touching his face.

He winced exaggeratedly, and then smiled when he saw the increase in surprise on your face. “I’ve gotta milk it for all it’s worth,” he said.

You slapped him on the arm and said, “It’s not like I meant to do it!”

He laughed. “I know that. I’m still gonna torture you over it though.” He looped an arm around your waist, pulling your body flush against his own. “Maybe if you kiss me it’ll feel better,” he said, his voice husky.

He didn’t wait for your response, instead lowering his head to quickly press his lips to yours. Your hands went to his neck, his face, his hair. His tongue parted your lips, running along the edges of your teeth. Groaning into his mouth, your hands tightened in his hair. His hands squeezed your hips before moving to grip your bottom.

You pushed against his chest, and he let go. Breathing hard, you said, “My god. You’ve waited all day to do that, haven’t you?” 

He had a wolf’s grin on his face and picked up his hat. “That and a whole lot more.” You must have smeared the blood on his face while you were kissing and it made him look wild and violent. You thought of him effortlessly throwing that elk over his shoulder, how strong he had to be. You wanted those strong hands on you again, and you shivered.

#i looked at it for too long #but i also wrote it maybe too quickly #arthur morgan #arthur x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead #read dead redemption #arthur x f!reader #f!reader #reader #my writiting #fanfiction #fan fic

[eternallyyoungjustice]

Wherever the Winds Take You: Chapter 3

Author’s note:

Did I say two weeks? Whoops. Here’s the third chapter almost a week earlier. I just finished editing chapter 4 so I figured it was safe to upload this now. 

So here we start, actually starting on the actual original series! 

I’m going to put the translations to the French phrases at the bottom, in case you really want to know them. I’m not actually in any way fluent in Parisian French, but I’ve tried my best with my knowledge on Canadian French, and research. But if there’s any glaring mistakes language-wise at any point here on out, please let a girl know.

Love you all, hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC. Young Justice and it’s locations, stories, and characters belong to DC comics and the brilliant minds who created them.

Hall of Justice, Washington D.C.

July 4

14:00 EDT

It really couldn’t have been a more beautiful day outside. Warm, summer weather, not a cloud in the sky, the sun’s golden rays warming the Earth with a small, cool breeze to cool down its inhabitants. Perfect Washington summer weather.

Or at least, that’s what Lina thought as she hovered in the sky, basking in the sun’s rays.

The heat of the star seeped through the sturdy but comfortable fabric of the girl’s white and gold suit, spreading over her skin and melting into her like a warm hug from the universe. The winds that blew around Zephyr weren’t too strong, just enough to carry the girl and cause the tendrils of curly brown hair, that were usually tucked into her hood, sway in their dance.

“So warm today…” One of the small voices whispered into Zephyr’s ears, and the girl smiled in agreement. She certainly didn’t get this kind of sunny heat in Paris, and she had no intention of letting it go to waste.

“Those people sure do seem excited about something.” Another voice whispered, catching Lina’s attention.

“I wonder what they’re all waiting for.” Added another.

Opening her eyes and looking down, Lina was reminded of the crowds of excited people on the land below. She couldn’t make out a lot of them from her altitude, but she could just see the small flashes of cameras and the colourful specs of merchandise. Lina wasn’t that surprised to see that there appeared to be quite a few more people in the crowds than when she had first flown up to her current height.

“I suppose sunbathing time is over.” Lina murmured to herself, before waving her hand and signalling the winds around her to begin their descent. Being mindful of how fast she was being taken down, Lina tilted herself so she fell at an angle, allowing for more drag and more control over speed. As she got closer to the ground, she felt the air around her thicken and she let go of a few of the Winds, and pushed forward as to fly towards the tall, red, robotic man that stood on a short cliff overlooking the crowds of tourists in front of the white and gold arched building. Far away enough for the crowds not to identify them, but close enough for the robot to keep an eye on the visitors.

Once Zephyr had reached the cliff, the robot man turned to face her. Grinning, Zephyr pushed the Winds to spin her into a flip before she dismounted; landing perfectly on both feet with her hands raised above her head.

“Ta-da!” The young girl exclaimed, a large grin painted on her face. For a moment, the robot was silent but then he turned away from her, once again facing the crowds of people.

“You should bend your knees slightly more once you hit the ground, and raise your arms more once you steady yourself.” The man of red metal explained. “It both provides more balance, and adds more effect.”

The girl giggled slightly, floating over to beside her mentor. “The robot giving the circus-girl landing tips? Not something you see everyday, no offence Red.”

Red Tornado didn’t reply, as per usual. Zephyr had gotten used to the strong-and-silent type about him in the two years she’d been training under him. She actually prefered it, as it meant she had to pay attention to less. It was known that if he was saying something, it was important and shouldn’t be brushed off as simple small-talk. And although it made it harder for her to read him at first, she eventually got a grasp on it.

“I got up pretty high just then, did you see? Probably about 4,000 feet I think?” Zephyr noted as she began to tuck her hair into a clump and don her hood. “Oxygen was a little thinner, but not by much. It’s interesting, how the Winds don’t really get quieter the less there are of them.”

Once again, no reply. But Zephyr knew he had heard and listened to her.

Zephyr looked around, just realizing that they were the only two on the cliff. She had been up in the sky for probably 15 minutes, and even though she knew that their companions would be late; she thought they would have arrived by then. She voiced these thoughts to her mentor.

“It would appear that they’re more caught up in their battles than initially thought.” Red Tornado said nonchalantly. Zephyr hummed for a moment, fiddling with a stand of hair that fell out from her hood.

“It’s strange, yes? Four ice villains attacking different Justice League members and their proteges, in differing states, at the same time? And on today for that matter?” Zephyr asked, looking up towards her mentor and then back out towards the sea of people. “I mean, today is the day.”

“It is an odd coincidence, yes.”

“A coincidence?” Zephyr asked. “Êtes-vous certain?”

“You think there’s something bigger at play?” The somewhat high-pitched voice came from right behind the air-manipulating duo, and Zephyr whipped around to see two familiar figures. A tall man shrouded in a dark cloak with built-in point-shaped ears, and a small boy in a red and black costume wearing a domino mask.

Robin, to Zephyr, didn't look much different from any other 14 year old boy she had met. Tallish for his age, skinny limbs, tousled hair and a mischievous smile. He carried himself with a sort of sly confidence, shoulders back and head up.

“Robin!” Zephyr exclaimed as she stepped forward to greet the young boy. Pulling the young boy into a quick hug, Zephyr wasn’t surprised to find that he had grown a couple inches since they had last seen each other. “About time you got here! I haven’t seen you in so long, the Riddler’s tornado-machine-thing incident last spring, non?”

“Sounds about right, good times.” Robin cracked an uneven smile as Zephyr stepped back. “But seriously Zeph’, do you think it was something else? Because I have a couple theories going and-””Why don’t we focus on one thing at a time.” Zephyr interrupted, knowing she could never keep up whenever the Boy Wonder rambled on about his ‘theories’. “Did you get Mr. Freeze squared away?”

“In holding, the Gotham Police and Arkham are just starting on the paperwork.” Batman explained, more to Red Tornado than Zephyr. Upon hearing the infamous Dark Knight, Zephyr tensed up and avoided eye contact with him, not that he would spare her a passing glance.

“Oh, that’s good then.” Zephyr said, more of a mutter than anything.

Thankfully, the slight tension was cut off by another duo dropping onto the cliff.

“Hey, sorry we’re late.” Green Arrow greeted, holstering his bow. “Junior put up a little bit of a fight while the cops took him away.”

“Roy!” Zephyr exclaimed, rushing over to the red-clad boy to hug him as well. The redhead smiled and returned the hug for a moment before she pulled away. “Oh, sorry, I mean...Speedy! You’re here!”

“Hello to you too Kiddo.” The boy said, the smile still on his lips as he delivered a small, friendly punch to Zephyr’s forearm. “I swear, if my secret identity ever gets leaked it’s going to be because of you.”

“I said sorry!” Zephyr smirked, placing her hands on her hips.

Speedy was tall, at least compared to Zephyr who was a whole head and a half shorter than him. Dark red hair peeked out under his Robin Hood-esk hat, which his red and yellow uniform matched with. Chiseled features and a face that made you think he was angry 24/7 (especially with his mask on), he had a general “stay away” vibe to him, despite the colourful costume.

“I’m glad he’s being nice to you at least, Kid.” Green Arrow cut in, a small smile on his face as he stepped over to stand with his adult colleague. Unlike his protege, Green Arrow's disposition was much sunnier, welcoming, and kind. Almost like that fun Uncle everyone likes at family gatherings. This, paired with his golden hair and green uniform made him a full contrast to his ward.

“The whole fight with Junior and the way here he wouldn’t stop complaining about the fight ‘interfering’ and us being late for ‘the day’.”

Speedy gave his mentor a quick glare, and Zephyr couldn't help but let out a small giggle. The two of them always acted like this, their whole goofy-father-rebellious-son shtick. But those who knew the Star City duo knew that Speedy cared more for his mentor than he made it look.

“Hey, all of us are late. No big.” Robin said, stepping towards Speedy and Zephyr. He motioned to the crowds of people, “They don't seem to mind.”

“Fair enough, Boy Wonder.” Speedy smirked down at the boy. “How you doing Rob´?”

The raven-haired boy shrugged, but returned the slight smile. “You know, same old. Kicking ass and taking names, the usual.”

“That's what I like to hear.” Speedy said, and the two boys fist-bumped.

“Dinah sends her love, as usual.” Green Arrow explained to Zephyr. “She wishes she could be here.”

Zephyr shrugged, but smiled at the blonde archer nonetheless. “C’est la vie, GA. Can’t have the public wondering why she’s here when she doesn’t have her own protege, Ça ne casse pas trois pattes à un canard.”

Green Arrow continued to smile, but looked mildly confused. “I’m...just going to pretend I know what that last part means.”

“Is there any news from anyone else?” Speedy asked the adults.

“Knowing Flash and Kid, they're going to be the last ones here.” Robin laughed. “You know how that superspeed affects punctuality.”

“Last we heard, Aquaman and Aqualad were still fighting Killer Frost in Pearl Harbor.” Green Arrow explained.

“Keyword being 'were’.” The gruff voice of Aquaman was heard and everyone turned to see him and his protege, Aqualad, walking over to the cliff's edge. Aquaman carried himself with a strong dignity, which made sense since he was the literal King of Atlantis. Golden blonde hair and beard, a kind but strong aura, and the traditional orange and green uniform from his country that shined in the summer sun. His protege moved as confidently as his King, but with much more of a smile as he approached his comrades. Aqualad's dark skin and even darker uniform contrasted with his light blonde hair, but in a way that somehow managed to bring out his strong and sharp features.

“About time you got here.” Speedy smirked as Aqualad joined the gathering of teenagers. The two clasped each other's hands in a pseudo-handshake.

“Apologies.” The young Atlantean replied, nodding his head to the others. “We would have made it here sooner but the nearest Zeta-Tube was a ways away.”

“It's seriously fine. Red Tornado and I were the only ones that were here on time, and we're still waiting for the Flashes.” Zephyr explained. As Aqualad turning to look at her, the two of them made eye-contact and the Atlantean knowingly smiled and opened one of his arms. Smiling, Zephyr floated over and happily took the brief hug.

“Oh I see how it is.” Speedy said, causing is two friends to look over at him, slightly pulling apart to do so. “You have no problem yelling out my secret ID for the world to hear, but with Kaldur, nada! Fine, I see where the loyalties lie.”

“Oh calme-toi, Speedy!” Zephyr stuck out her tongue, fully pulling away from Aqualad to face her archer friend. Robin and Aqualad just chuckled, amused by the two’s teasing.

“Did Killer Frost give you any trouble?” Robin asked, changing the subject.

“Not at all. Although I am a little concerned over her...motivations.” Aqualad admitted. “It was said that four ice-powered villains made an attack today?”

Before any of the teens could respond, Batman cut in.

“Today’s attacks are a League priority.” The Gotham Knight growled.

“Don't worry about them, especially not now.” Green Arrow added, becoming the proteges over. As directed, the young heroes stepped forward and took their places by their respective mentors, looking out to the giant hall in front of them.

“Today is the day.” Batman said, in a tone that almost sounded nostalgic.

“Welcome to the Hall of Justice.” Green Arrow grinned.

“Headquarters of the Justice League.” Aquaman added.

“And where the future of your career awaits.” Red Tornado finished.

“I wonder if they rehearsed that…” A small voice whispered in Zephyr’s ear, causing her to hold back a small giggle.

“Aw man!” The voice of a speedster everyone knew suddenly exclaimed from behind the group, and the heroes turned to see a tall man in a red suit, and a much younger teen boy in a contrasting yellow suit screeching to a sliding halt as the encountered the group. “I knew we’d be the last one’s here!”

“Does super-tardiness just come with being a speedster? Cause I’m starting to think it’s a serious side-effect that should be looked into.” Robin smirked at the boy in yellow, causing the latter to glare at his domino-masked friend.

“You can blame Flash, he decided to take his time chatting with Cold.” The young speedster explained. The boy’s hair was in its usual wind-swept manner, a product of his super-speed, and his bright green eyes that could almost be seen from a mile away were full of annoyance and, as the other teens could easily read, a sense of embarrassment. “Even though I warned him…”

“Nearly all of us were late, Kid Flash.” Aqualad assured, offering a small smile in greeting.

“Yes, c’est la vie.” Zephyr added.

“Well, I guess that’s not as bad then.” The red-haired speedster sighed in relief before giving his fellow teens an uneven smile.

“It’s the ones that can disrupt us with just their bodies.” A stern voice muttered, catching Zephyr’s attention. “So impatient, the younger one lacks appreciation for his gifts.”

Rolling her eyes, Zephyr waved her hand to blow the Wind away.

“So...now that we’re all here..?” Speedy said, eyes darting to the building like a child on Christmas morning.

“We should get going.” Batman agreed, and without another word; he started making his way down the side of the cliff towards the sea of people.

Robin quickly turned to face his comrades, a huge toothy grin stretching his face, before running forward to join his mentor. The rest of the duos were quick to follow suit, making their way to the crowds of people waiting for a peek of the famous heroes.

This enthusiasm only seemed to grow to a roaring storm as the ten individuals walked into the reserved path marked by railing barricards. Flashes from cameras and loud, overwhelming levels of cheering encased the heroes like a tunnel of attention and Zephyr found herself tensing her muscles, despite forcing a smile on her face. Fortunately, the feeling of a familiar metal hand touching her shoulder divided her attention and the girl looked up at her robotic mentor.

“Remain calm Zephyr.” The monotone voice spoke quietly as to not be heard by anyone else. “You have earned this praise and attention, ease your breathing and embrace it for the short while.”

Her muscles relaxing, Zephyr’s smile became much more genuine as she nodded. Looking back out to the fans, she waved her hand in greeting, scanning over the excited faces within the frenzy.

“Is that Batman?” A voice spoke over the excitement.

“I see Flash and Flash Jr!” Another spoke. Looking over to their ginger friend, the other teens were slightly amused to see Kid Flash looking mildly put out.

“His name’s Speedy, duh!” Another tourist corrected.

“No, Speedy’s Green Arrow’s sidekick.” Yet another shouted.

“Well that makes no sense.” The initial voice exclaimed.

Robin let out a somewhat loud snort in laughter, only to be elbowed by the speedster in yellow.

“Bite me, Boy Blunder.” Kid Flash hissed.

As Zephyr's eyes scanned the crowd, she quickly became aware of a recurring theme: the Justice League member paraphernalia. T-shirts with the logos of certain members, a few people with brightly coloured posters, children wearing small versions of heroes costumes. There was so much that Zephyr began to wonder where such things were made and sold.

However, one in particular caught her eye and she was quick to reach over and tap Aqualad's shoulder, nodding her head in the direction of a small toddler in their parents’ arms. The small boy was wearing a familiar-looking red shirt, black pants, a silver alpha-symbol-esk A belt, and dark details to complete the look of Atlantean armour. Just like Aqualad's uniform.

“You've got a fan.” Zephyr muttered, and Aqualad responded by grinning and waving to the boy. The parents smiled and gently waved the toddler's hand back.

Not a moment later, Aqualad made eye-contact with Zephyr and nodded in the opposite direction, whispering “Looks like I’m not the only one”.

Right near the front, a young girl-maybe 4 or 5-was standing, waving at Zephyr. What made Zephyr’s heart melt a little, however, was the fact that around her neck hung a gold chair with a encircled ‘Z’ as a charm. The same gold, encircled ‘Z’ that was attached to the left side of Zephyr’s short, hooded-caped, fleece. Upon seeing that Zephyr was looking at her, the young girl grinned and grabbed the necklace to show the young hero. Smiling with a warm heart, Zephyr blew a kiss to the young girl who proceeded to grin up at her mother beside her, the girl’s face so happy that it made Zephyr want to run up and hug the small child.

“Ready to see the inner sanctum?” Green Arrow asked, leaning over to speak to his protege.

“Born that way.” The younger archer replied, a small grin pulling at his lips.

“I am glad we’re all here.” Aqualad remarked, grabbing everyone’s attention away from the crowds.

“Have all five sidekicks ever been in the same place at the same time?” Kid Flash asked excitedly.

“Don’t call us sidekicks, not after today.”

Speedy’s angry interjection caught everyone in the small group by surprise, causing both the adults and the teens to look at him in a mix of concern and curiosity.

“Sorry,” Kid Flash replied after a quick moment, suddenly much more sheepish, “first time at the Hall, I’m a little overwhelmed.”

“You’re overwhelmed, Freeze was underwhelmed. Why isn’t anybody just whelmed?” Robin exclaimed as the group finally crossed the threshold of the white and gold building.

The arches reached high above them as they entered into a large, grand open lobby that felt like, to the teens, they had just stepped into a new, gigantic world. The room had a blue tint to it that made it seem like it was entirely made of metal and plain marble. The only pieces of decor or furnishing in the room visible from the front entrance were seven, enormous, bronze statues of the founding members; Aquaman, Flash, Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, and Martian Manhunter. The statues had to have stood at three stories tall at least, and the teenagers suddenly felt much smaller than before.

“Oh.” Robin said, almost under his breath as he stared, wide-eyed at the statues. “Maybe that’s why…”

The proteges’ gaping was cut short as double doors under the statues opened up to reveal a tall figure walking out from them. The individual’s green skin set him apart from the other present Justice League members, making it clear from the start that he wasn’t of this word. His chiseled features and serious looking appearance had a way of commanding respect, even if his black, blue, and red uniform wasn’t exactly the most intimidating.

“Robin, Speedy, Aqualad, Zephyr, Kid Flash: welcome.” Martian Manhunter greeted in his deep-sounding voice.

“This is it,” Zephyr thought to herself as the butterflies started flapping in her stomach, “this is the big, crowning moment.”

As Martian Manhunter turned to head back through the doors he just entered from, everyone promptly followed behind. Robin and Kid Flash bumped fists before rushing on ahead, the older teens following on their ankles.

“You now have unlimited access to our gym, fully-stocked gallery, and of course…” As the group stepped into the next room, they found themselves in a large, carpeted area lined with bookshelves. There was a seating area on one side, and a handful of wooden tables with computers, work supplies, and the like on the other. On the opposite end of the room was a giant computer that looked down at the people below. There was also a heavy metal door beside it which stood out against the casual decor. “...our library.”

“Make yourselves at home.” Flash explained as the older heroes made their way over to the far side of the room, by the large computer and the metal doors. Kid Flash and Robin wasted no time running over to claim some of the leather chairs for themselves, and Aqualad and Zephyr quickly followed suit. As there was only one seat left, the Atlantean turned to offer it to Zephyr, but she quickly declined in order to sit on the arm of the seat, letting him take the seat itself.

“Is this okay?” Zephyr asked, offering a small smile as she pulled her hood off. Aqualad smiled back, chuckling softly as he took the now-shared seat.

“Of course.”

Zephyr looked over to Speedy, who was left standing. But he didn’t seem interested in his lack of seating areas, as he simply glared at the Justice League members with tense shoulders and a slight frown.

“Roy?” Zephyr muttered, reaching out to touch his arm and get his attention. But before she could, the sound of Batman’s voice sounded through the room.

“Quick debrief to discuss the coincidence of four ice villains attacking on the same day.” The man in black explained. “We shouldn’t be long.”

As a computerized voice began to read off the Leaguer’s names and designations, Zephyr couldn’t help but let a thought cloud her mind.

So Batman doesn’t think it was a coincidence either?

“That’s it?”

Speedy’s angry voice rung through the library, once again catching everybody off-guard. As everyone whirled around to look at the angry red-head, they could see that his tense and stern body language was even more pronounced, more so than nearly anyone present in the room had ever seen from him.

“You promised us a real look inside, not a glorified backstage pass!” Speedy continued.

“It’s a first step.” Aquaman explained calmly. “You’ve been granted access few others get.”

“Oh really?” The archer seemed to only be spurred on by the Atlantean king’s calm as he gestured up to a large window the other teens hadn’t noticed when they came in. More members of the public were watching from behind the clear glass, like the heroes were animals at a zoo. “Who cares what side of the glass we’re on?”

“Roy, you just need to be patient.” Green Arrow tried to calm his protege, but it was obvious to everyone that Speedy’s anger was making him nervous.

“What I ‘need’ is respect!” Speedy said, taking a couple strides towards the adults before waiting a beat and whipping around to address the teens. At the angry gaze suddenly being turned onto them, the four younger youths tensed up, all mentally preparing to be faced with the fury that was Roy Harper.

“They’re treating us like kids! Worse; like sidekicks.” Speedy growled like an angry cat, spitting out the last word like it was sour. “We deserve better than this.”

Robin, Aqualad, Kid Flash, and Zephyr all glanced at each other, non-verbally confirming that they had no personal qualms with the way today had played out leading up to this point. They looked back at their comrade, all with a certain feeling of anxiety and confusion in their gaze.

“You’re kidding, right?” Speedy asked in a monotone voice, dumbfounded at his peers lack of infuriation. “You’re playing their game? Why? Today was supposed to be the day. Step one to becoming full-fledged members of the League!”

“Well, sure.” Kid Flash said hesitantly. “But I thought step one was a tour of the HQ.”

“Except the Hall isn’t the League’s real HQ!”

The room went still as every Justice League members’ expressions turned to one of panic and shock. The four seated adolescents all straightened up, brows furrowed as their eyes now became fixated on their rebelling friend. Kid Flash’s jaw even dropped, eyes widened in pure and unfiltered surprise.

“I bet they never even told you. It’s just a false front for tourists, and a pit-stop for catching Zeta beam tubes to the real thing; an orbiting satellite called the Watchtower.”

Batman’s icy cold glare could be felt throughout the library, contrasted only by the burning gazes of the confused teenagers. Green Arrow turned around to look back at the cloaked leader of the Justice League, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“I know, I know. But I thought maybe we could make an exception?” As the white slits of Batman’s eyes narrowed, the archer received his silent answer. “Or not…”

Meanwhile, Aquaman decided to step in as the only adult willing to try and tame in the hot-headed redhead, stepping towards Speedy with a slight frown between his brows. “You are not helping your case here son. Stand down or-””Or what? You’ll send me to my room?”

Speedy’s voice was growing more and more venomous as the discussion unfolded, and Zephyr stored away some of her confusion just long enough to move and try calming down her friend, but she was stopped by a webbed hand grasping her arm gently, but firmly. Looking down at Aqualad, he shook his head slightly at Zephyr who understood, and promptly sat back down.

“And I’m not your son, I’m not even his!” Speedy continued, practically spitting at his mentor who he now glared at. “I thought I was his partner…”

“Oh no…”

“But not anymore.”

As if in slow motion, the yellow Robin Hood hat was ripped off it’s perch by its owner and thrown onto the ground at the adult’s feet. Without even waiting a moment to stop and bask in his actions, Speedy turned on his heel and began walking away, straight through the seating area where his colleagues now stood at attention, towards the door the group had entered through.

“Guess they’re right about you four.” Speedy hissed at the shocked teenagers. “You’re not ready.”

As the doors closed behind him, the room was plunged into a thick and heavy silence. Not a single person spoke, both due to the fact that there simply wasn’t anything anyone could say after a bombshell like that, and because nobody wanted to even try. The mentors, save for Green Arrow who stared at the door his ward had just walked out of, were silently watching the other proteges, alert as if preparing for any one of them to throw in their chips with the sudden revolution. The teenagers however, did no such thing as they stayed perfectly still. Aqualad and Zephyr joining Green Arrow by staring at the door, as if waiting for their friend to walk back in; Kid Flash staring down at his feet in thought, his mind racing at a speed so fast his feet would be envious; and Robin, staring right back at his mentor with an expression that couldn’t be read through his mask.

Thankfully for everyone, the silence was broken after a couple moments by the giant monitor beside them coming to life. The initial beeping sound from the machine caught everyone's attention, only to be followed by the image of Superman coming up on the screen. The hero in blue could only be seen from the chest-up but he looked the same as any of the young heroes had always seen him: strong, cheery features, and not a hair out of place.

“Superman to Justice League. There’s been a small explosion at Project Cadmus, it’s on fire.” America’s favorite ‘Blue Boy Scout’ explained.

“The famous and all-powerful Justice League being called in for a mere fire?” A voice whispered into Zephyr’s ear. “Please, we could take care of something like that ourselves. Fire is a weak element, so temperamental and childlike.”

Zephyr rolled her eyes at the voice, but didn’t bother waving it away.

“I’ve had my suspicions about Cadmus.” Batman spoke, turning to speak to the other leaguers. “This could present the perfect opportunity to-””Zatara to Justice League.”

Batman was cut off by another man’s image coming up onto the screen, the aged and mustached face of Zatara the master magician: top hat and all. He looked slightly unnerved, his voice giving an air of panic as his image grew to take over the screen, sliding Superman to the bottom corner.

“The sorcerer Wotan is using the Amulet if Atan to blot out the sun. Requesting full League response.” The magician explained.

“Superman?” Batman asked, looking to his co-leader for confirmation.

“It’s a small fire; local authorities have it under control.”

“See what I mean? Fire is so weak, even a group of weak humans can control it! Pathetic, truely. Why even bother such noble heroes with such a simple task?” The same voice whispered, and although she was amused by the judgement of elements, Zephyr waved the Wind away to focus on the matter at hand.

“Then Cadmus can wait. All Leaguers rendezvous at Zatara’s coordinates. Batman out.” Batman clicked the screen off as the young heroes stepped forward, ready for action

“Stay put.” The cloaked man said quickly before any of the teenagers could say or do anything.

“What? Why?” Robin exclaimed as he and his comrades grew a look of annoyance and betrayal.

“This is a League mission.” Aquaman explained sternly. After the sudden outburst, none of the adults were going to risk anything with leaving room for debate.

“You’re not trained.” Flash added.

“Since when?” The speedster protege barked back.

“I meant you’re not trained to work as a part of this team.” Flash expanded, gesturing to Batman, Aquaman, and himself.

Zephyr turned her gaze to look at her mentor, only to see him entering the zeta-tube; not even looking back at his supposed partner.

“Je n’y crois pas.” The girl muttered under her breath, tearing her angry gaze back to the three men in front of her.

“There will be other missions, when you’re ready.” Aquaman explained.

Each of the teens frowned at this, reminded of Speedy’s final message.

“Guess they’re right about you four. You’re not ready.”

“But for now, stay put.” Batman narrowed his eyes at the teenagers, casting an extra look to his own protege.

And with that, they were gone. Leaving through the zeta-beam tubes and leaving their young counterparts alone in the library.

It only took a moment for one of them to crack.

“When we're ready? How are we ever going to be ready when they treat us like…like…like sidekicks!” Kid Flash faltered, anger building in his muscles as he began to whip around aimlessly.

Aqualad looked down at the ground below him, eyebrows furrowed and a stern look across his features. “My mentor, my King...I thought he trusted me.” Zephyr, who still stood next to him, placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Trust?” Kid Flash spat. “They don't even trust us with the basics! They've got a secret HQ! In space!”

“It makes one wonder…” Zephyr hummed, frowned slightly and dropping her hand as her thoughts unfolded, “if there's more they are not telling us.”

“I've got a better question.” Robin interjected, rolling his shoulders as he looked up. “Why didn't we leave with Speedy?”

A heavy silence fell over the group and each of the young heroes felt their bodies close into themselves as thoughts and tension ran rampant within all of them.

The weight connected to the back of Zephyr’s suit, formed perfectly to her body as to make the hidden compartment nearly invisible, suddenly felt much heavier as she was reminded of the steel blade that lay within it. The silver blade that Roy had specifically made for her after they befriended each other, made up of old refurbished arrowheads.

And what of Red Tornado’s apparent lies? Sure, having a robot for a mentor meant that certain things were lost in translation and communication, it was something Zephyr and he both had to deal with in their own ways. But this was different, he deliberately hid something from her. Not only that, but he lead her to believe that this, today, was special when there was much bigger things at play. He didn’t just leave something out that he believed not to be important, he lied. Plain and simple. And what about Dinah? She was just as guilty here, and she wasn’t even present to see the byproduct.

It was Aqualad who finally broke the silence, his melancholy twisting into curiosity. “What is...Project Cadmus?”

“Don’t know,” Robin muttered, the same curiosity filling him, “but I can find out.”

The Boy Wonder sauntered over to the huge computer and his comrades could only watch as his fingers began to move over the keys.

“Access denied.” The computer spoke.

“Wanna bet?” Robin laughed, embracing the challenge as he began to pick up his pace. His gloved fingers began dancing on the keyboard at what only appeared as inhuman speed, strings of code and other things most of the other teenagers couldn’t understand or decipher popped up and danced along the screen.

“Woah.” Zephyr muttered in awe.

“Woah’s right.” Kid Flash gawked, stepping closer to his best friend. “How are you doing that?”

“Same system as the Batcave.” Robin explained slyly, as if that explained everything.

“Access granted.”

“Alright, Project Cadmus…” Robin began as he scanned through the newly available computer files. “A genetics lab here in D.C., that’s all there is. But if Batman’s suspicious….” his face contorted into one of pure mischief “maybe we should investigate.”

“Oh, I see where this is going…” Zephyr thought.

“Solve their case before they do.” Aqualad smiled, mulling the thought over and over in his head. “It would be poetic justice.”

“Hey,” Robin chuckled, “they’re all about justice.”

“Finally, a mission without that...unfeeling, unnatural thing holding us back!” One voice said, slimy-sounding in nature.

“But is it safe?” Another asked.

“Why should we even go, or even consider going?” Added one more.

“Who’s making me go on a Zephyr mission if not my mentor? What is my motivation here?” Zephyr mentally added for herself. “And would we even be able to do the mission successfully on our own? Would we just end up making things worse?”

Aqualad sighed, his smile faltering. “But they said stay put.”

“For the blotting out the sun mission, not this.” Robin rebutted.

Kid Flash snapped to attention, gazing excitedly at Robin. “Wait, are you going? Cause if you’re going, I’m going.”

The two younger boys turned, grinning up at Zephyr and Aqualad as if they were children begging their parents to buy them a treat. Aqualad and Zephyr looked over at each other, meeting eyes. In that moment, both of them wished they could read each other’s mind and discuss the turn of events privately and calmly. After a moment however, Zephyr sighed in self-defeat and pulled her hood back on.

“Oh putain.”

“I agree if you do Kal.”

And with that, the initial look of piqued interest and excitement filled the Atlantean’s grey-green eyes. Although sparks of uncertainty still pooled in the same depths.

“So just like that? We’re a team on a mission?” The Atlantean asked.

“We didn’t come for a play-date.” Robin smirked.

That was all the convincing he needed.

Translations:

Êtes-vous certain: Are you sure?

C’est la vie: Such is life

Ça ne casse pas trois pattes à un canard: Direct: It doesn’t break three legs to a duck.  Meaning: It’s nothing special

(I know, that one’s a little weird, but such is the way of idioms)

Calme-toi: Calm down 

Je n’y crois pas: I can’t believe this

Putain: kind of the equivalent of an f-bomb, in this case intended to mean ‘fuck it’

#young justice #young justice fanfiction #fanfiction #oc fanfiction #young justice oc #original character #aqualad x oc #aqualad #kaldur’ahm #kaldur #miss martian #Megan Morse #m’gann m’orzz #mgann morzz #artemis #artemis crock #tigress #kid flash #wally west #nightwing #robin #dick grayson #red tornado #john smith #dc comics #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

[cottontail20]

A Legend All Their Own, Chapter 6: ‘Show Me Who You Are’

Summary:  Still angry with him, Princess Wanda must decide whether or not to protect the injured Vision from King Ultron’s soldiers.

"What the hell are you doing?" Wanda snapped, after Vision had tackled her to the ground. "Get off me! Get.." She rolled over, shoving Vision away, then froze, her eyes wide.

Most of the arrows missed, but two were now buried in Vision's shoulder. Blood bloomed through the thin material of his shirt. He tried to stand, but fell onto his knees, his face twisted in pain. Vision looked at Wanda, the patterns within his strange eyes spinning.

"Run" He told her, but it was too late. The soldiers were upon them, notching new arrows.

"This doesn't have to end badly for you, Princess" One of them said. "You can come quietly, and we won't say another word about it."

"We only have to kill the boy" added another, taking aim. "And look, he's given us a perfect shot.."

Wanda's eyes flickered from the Soldiers to the injured Vision. Injured because he had pushed her out of the way. Her coat was made of thick, expensive leather. Those arrows likely would have done much less damage to her than they had to him, but he had still..

The soldier fired.

Wanda, without really knowing what she was doing, how or why she was doing it, leapt to her feet, red energy surrounding her hands, her eyes glowing the same fiery red.

"No!" The arrow stopped short, clattering to the ground. With a wave of Wanda's arm, the Soldiers were knocked from their feet, and a second wave surrounded most of them in red energy, sending them flying far off into the distance.

One soldier missed by Wanda's assault charged at the Princess, sword raised.

Vision, acting on pure instinct, grabbed the burning stone from his pocket with his free hand, thrusting it in the enemy's direction. The Stone emitted a beam of golden energy, burning right through the Soldier's chest. He fell to the ground, motionless.

Wanda looked down at Vision, wide eyed and slightly pale.

"How did you.."

"I don't know" Vision replied, panting. "How did you.."

"I don't know.." Wanda glanced down at her hands, then back at Vision. "Why did they want to kill you?"

"I have no idea.. You should go.. We don't know how far you threw them, or if they'll come back. I'd slow you down."

"You would" the Princess agreed, but didn't move. She just watched him for a moment, considering, her eyes green once more. She tilted her head slightly when she spoke again. "Why did you push me out of the way?"

"I didn't want you to get hurt. You're far more important than me."

That seemed to make up her mind. Wanda shook her head, pulling Vision to his feet and draping his good arm around her shoulders, supporting him as they moved forwards.

"I'm not more important than anyone.. I'm not anything."

--

Darkness fell as they trudged onward, with no clear destination in mind. They had moved off of the main path, hoping to make things more difficult for anyone looking for them.

Vision occasionally stumbled, almost pulling Wanda down with him, but she always managed to catch him. The Princess was clearly stronger than she looked. After another stumble, she brought them to a stop.

"We can't keep going like this. You're jostling the arrows and bleeding too much. We need to get them out and bandage your wounds, I don't want you dropping dead on me."

"You don't?" Vision may have sounded a little too hopeful, and Wanda frowned.

"I was angry. I'm still angry. But there's a pretty big leap between anger and wanting someone dead, Vision."

"That is true.."

"Now" The Princess found a clear spot, pushing him down gently, "Sit, and try not to move for a few minutes."

--

Before long, Wanda had managed to start a small fire, and had pulled a few pieces of cloth and a small bottle of something from her rucksack, ready to clean Vision's wounds. Vision was slightly surprised.

"You are quite capable, for a Princess.."

Wanda shrugged.

"I made sure to learn some things, once I'd decided I was running away. I'm going to need your shirt off.. try not to disturb the arrows."

"Alright." Vision did as he was told, carefully removing his shirt, tugging it gently off over the arrows embedded in his shoulder. While he had been scrawny as a boy, years of lugging around sacks of rice and potatoes, and crates of fruit or vegetables for his fellow disadvantaged citizens had left him with a rather impressive physique.

Princess Wanda blushed, then shook her head, moving to kneel behind Vision and examine his injuries.

"Hmm.. The barbed part hasn't gone too deep. That's good, it means I should be able to just pull them out. Try not to yell."

"Why would I..Ouch!"

Without further warning, Wanda yanked the two arrows from Vision's shoulder.

"Done." She pressed one of her cloths to his skin to stem the flow of blood from the now open wounds.

"You did that on purpose" Vision frowned.

"Still angry, remember? Now, tell me about yourself."

"Myself?"

"Yes" The Princess replied. "Tell me all the need-to-know facts about you. Show me who you are, Vision, and I'll decide whether I want to forgive you or not."

"Well.." Vision paused. "Where do I start?"

"Where most people do. Your Family, where you were born.."

"I.. I don't know."

"Oh, that's helpful" Wanda rolled her eyes, slightly annoyed. "Why does my evil relative want to kill you? 'I don't know..'"

"Princess.."

"What's with that weird stone you have? 'I don't know..'"

"Wanda, I.."

"So what do you know?"

"I was abandoned at birth, because of my eyes, I think.. I was raised in an orphanage. I assume I was born in Sokovia, but as far as any Family, I really don't know."

"Oh.." Wanda's face grew pale, suddenly guilty. She was quiet for a while. "I'm sorry.. You really think you were abandoned because of your eyes?"

"I have heard myself referred to as a demon because of them, so most likely, yes. The Orphanage was closed when I was fourteen, not long after your parents died. I'd been on the streets for a few weeks when I found the stone. It let me walk through walls.. what it did Today was new to me. I've been a Thief since I found it."

"A Thief?"

"Stealing food for my fellow homeless. I don't like having to do it, but so many would starve otherwise.."

"I see.. So when did your friends come in?" Satisfied that the bleeding had slowed enough, Princess Wanda poured some of the contents of the small bottle on the second cloth and began gently cleaning Vision's wounds. He winced. "Sorry.. this will sting a bit."

"It's alright" Vision took her 'Sorry' as a sign that she may have been softening towards him again. "I met the Avengers just a few days ago, when they needed my abilities to help with their plans regarding you. They swore to me you weren't going to be hurt at all. That was important to me."

"It was?" Wanda frowned. "Why?"

"It.. It just was" Vision felt himself blushing. "And as soon as You told me about what Ultron did to Pietro.. I swear, my own plans changed. I just wanted to get you somewhere safe."

"Hmm.." Wanda stood and returned to her rucksack, searching for something. When she apparently couldn't find it, she pulled out the dress that she had been wearing when she and Vision met, and tore a large section off the bottom before he could stop her.

"Why did you do that?"

"To bandage your wound" She replied. "I didn't have anything else big enough, and I won't be needing a dress anytime soon.. Arm up."

Vision lifted his arm, and Wanda wrapped the torn material just tightly enough over his injured shoulder, tying it securely.

"Thank you" Vision managed a small smile. "So.. am I forgiven?"

"Well.." The Princess looked at him for a moment. Her green eyes had definitely softened. "I do want to believe you. Let's see if we can get somewhere safe, and then I'll think about it."

"That's fair" Vision nodded.

"For now, though" She threw an old blanket at him, "You should get some sleep."

"I couldn't possibly sleep.. What if.."

"Try. You have healing to do. You're not much good to me injured. I'll keep an eye out for trouble."

Vision opened his mouth to try and argue, but Wanda glared at him.

"Alright.. But you'll wake me if you get tired yourself, won't you?" He settled easily on the ground and pulled the blanket over him, used to sleeping rough.

"I will.. and Vision?"

"Yes, Princess?"

"I'm sorry, for what I said about your eyes.. I don't really think they're freaky."

"Back to amazing then?" He murmured. Half asleep, Wanda had been right, the day had taken a toll on him.

"Maybe.."

From the corner of his half closed eye, Vision thought he saw her smile.

Ao3 link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/16736589/chapters/39960435

#scarletvision #scarletvisionAu #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #the vision #vision mcu #wanda x vision #vision x wanda #marvel #Avengers #mcu #mcu au