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#this isn’t even a spy au for me anymore i’m just drawing what i want
Note
Hi hello! So pleased to hear your requests are open! Can I please request for a marriage au mafia style where the reader gets hurt or assaulted by the rival gang in front of him and due to being restraint he can't get to her and he cries and begs for her stop. Then thankfully Chan and the others come to the rescue and you want nothing more than to be in chnagbins arms. Maybe a lot of angst and fluff afterwards too. Can't wait to see what you come up with 💕
Pairing: Fem!Reader x Changbin
Warnings: Mention of violence and blood; cursing and language; lots of angst and some fluff at the end; mature content
Genre: Mafia AU; Established Relationship
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Where are you?
It feels like a dream. The very strange sensation of that in-between state because you were incapable of distinguishing consciousness from something less than. 
Am I alive?
You must be, aware of the sensation of cold, shivers running down your spine, raising little bumps across your arms...
“Princess!”
What? Did you hear that?
“Y/N!” the voice came again. More urgently this time.
You realized then, with the grounding agency of that sound, that your eyes were closed, but it was a struggle to open them, slowly coming back from whatever had sucked you down, wincing at the dull pain in your head.
“Y/N,” the voice sighed this time. Like it was relieved to see you cognizant. “Tell me you’re okay, love.”
Love?
It hit you at that moment, the sound of the voice. One you could recognize no matter the degree of darkness holding you under, and you managed to open your eyes enough to meet Changbin’s gaze from across the room. 
“Changbin?” you questioned. Or, at least, you thought you said his name. You couldn’t be sure since the sounds around you made it seem like your head was underneath water, distorting everything, and the roof of your mouth was dry and tasteless.
“That’s right, love,” Changbin said, and you struggled to keep him in your line of vision, watching his form swim and dance in strange directions.
“I don’t feel good,” you admitted, hearing what might’ve been a sharp intake of breath.
“Where does it hurt?” Changbin asked, and you frowned at how difficult the question was since you weren’t sure how to answer it.
There was too much numbness, and you were far more concerned with restoring your senses, slowly feeling your ears open back up and the things surrounding you come into focus.
Meanwhile, Changbin was still talking. “I’ll kill them all,” he growled. “This was never supposed to happen.”
Them? you thought to yourself vacantly, gingerly turning around as much as your bindings would allow, realizing only after a brief relapse of confusion that your hands and legs were tied to the metal chair you sat on. 
“Where are we?” you asked, finding your voice amidst everything else.
“I’m not sure,” Changbin whispered, and he suddenly sat upright in his chair, eyes narrowing and features taking on that practiced hardening that you associated with your husband at his most dangerous.
But a Changbin bound and tied by seemingly impossible to escape restraints didn’t exactly scream power to you. In fact, it seemed more like a power imbalance, and you were left reeling for answers when the sound of a distant door opening and then closing filled the space between you both.
“I see you’re awake now,” an unfamiliar figure announced, voice slightly accented. He walked with an arrogant swagger, matching the exaggerated steps he took and the smirk he wore on his grizzled features. “We’ve been waiting.”
“Don’t touch her!” Changbin snapped, jerking against his restraints as the veins in his neck visibly popped in response to his obvious anger and frustration. 
“Who? The girl?” the man asked with a lazy gesturing towards you. “Then you’ll give us answers, no?”
“What do you want?” Changbin asked, and you noted how his fingers were clenched tightly against the arm rests attached to his chair.
“The new shipment of weapons,” the man said. “Your men took them from us the other night. Came in and shot my best sniper.”
Changbin sighed, clearly frustrated. “They were originally assigned to us.”
“But then we made a better deal!” the man growled. “It was my name on that contract, and you had no right to interfere.”
“Says who?” Changbin asked, fishing for more information.
“I can’t tell you that,” the man replied. “I’m only the messenger.”
“You act like it’s more than that.”
“Oh?” the man smirked. “Well, I am a big deal.”
Changbin glowered at the arrogance. “I don’t lead the organization.”
“I know, but you’re an important player,” the man continued. “And your name was everywhere when I started investigating.”
“The weapons were a necessary exchange,” Changbin argued.
“But they were ours!” the man declared passionately, and Changbin knew better than to try to argue with someone so overzealous.
“Fine,” Changbin huffed. “I’ll have my men restore the weapons.”
“Wonderful,” the man sighed, tucking his hands into his pocket. “There is one more thing, though.”
“One more?” Changbin snorted.
“I know of your importance, Mr. Seo,” the man said. “I assume that you’re someone in possession of good information.”
“Like what?”
“Like that little bar you opened downtown,” the man continued, taking another step closer. 
You froze when he pulled a knife from his pocket, studying the way the light reflected off the harsh metal. “What about it?” Changbin grumbled, eyes focused on the obvious danger in the room.
“I’m curious about its sudden success,” he said, and you shivered when he started circling your chair. “Seems like something is missing.”
“Just good business,” Changbin said, but you could tell he was trying to get one step ahead of the guy - discerning the meaning of this unexpected conversation.
“Or, you figured out how to delegitimize the competition,” the man harshly exhaled, and you whimpered when you felt the cold blade of the knife tease the sensitive skin of your neck. 
Changbin sat up just a little higher, biceps flexing against his restraints. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Obviously,” the man hissed, digging the blade just enough to draw a tiny pinprick of blood. “You’ve sent your men undercover to spy on my business! To spread rumors and lies and turn my clientele away!”
Changbin chuckled at the outrageous claim, but it was devoid of any humor. “You probably fucked your business over yourself.”
“Do you think I’m a fool?” the man growled, searing metal against flesh. “I know men like you, Mr. Seo, and I’m willing to bet that you’ve played a bigger part than what you’ve let on.”
“I have better things to do than fuck with some second rate booze club,” Changbin growled. “We’ve got clubs all over downtown. They’ve all been successful, and it has nothing to do with sending off the competition.”
Changbin smirked then, something harsh and mocking. “Maybe you’re just a really bad businessman.”
But it was the wrong thing to say, and you withheld a scream of terror when the man suddenly wrapped biting fingers into your hair. “You want to save your cocksleeve?” he growled, gripping even tighter to your aching scalp and wrenching your head back to expose your throat and the small laceration he had left there on the smooth skin. A puddle of red amidst the rest. “Tell me why you did it!”
“I can’t!” Changbin snarled in return. “My guys never stepped foot in your territory.”
“LIES!” the man roared, and you were teetering precariously in your chair, back legs lifted from the safety of the floor.
“If you hurt her,” Changbin said, and his tone was staggered and weak. “I will make sure you suffer a thousand times worse.”
The man laughed, incredulous as he looked around the room. “And what do you plan to do about it?”
Silent tears fell down your glistening cheeks as you felt the man’s warm breath against the side of your face. “Maybe violence isn’t enough for you. Maybe I need to get what I need by other means.”
Your stomach dropped at the guttural tone, trying to meet Changbin’s eyes from across the room. “You’ve been warned,” Changbin said. “The grave you’ve dug for yourself is deep enough.”
“Oh?” the man laughed. “Well, since you think you’re in such control here, let me remind of you of the reality of the situation...”
“Changbin!” you cried when you were abruptly lifted from your chair, knife cutting through the ropes binding you, sending you colliding back against the solid mass of an unfamiliar form, loose hands roaming across your torso. 
“Stop!”
Changbin’s voice was just veering on the edge of desperate, recognizing that you were in no position for him to sound anything less than serious. 
“Stop?” your captor repeated in a mocking tone, and you felt the blade of the knife return to your throat, slicing down harder and finally triggering the hair-raising scream that you had been suppressing. Trying to be brave for Changbin.
“You can’t do this!” Changbin cried, and you were amazed to see the faint rivulet of a tear stain - the mark of weakness that your husband tried so hard to suppress in this violent line of work.
If you thought about it, there were only a handful of times that you had ever seen Changbin cry.
“I’ll do anything,” Changbin whispered. “I’ll even take her place! Just don’t hurt her anymore.”
“Hmmm?” Your captor relinquished his threatening attack, and you could breath a little easier when he turned his attention back to Changbin.“What if I offer you a compromise? Tell me how you’ve managed your business affairs, and I won’t kill your little plaything.”
Changbin inhaled sharply, gaze full of a sinister rage you knew was reserved for his greatest enemies. “You’ll be screaming for a death of your own by the time I’m done with you.”
“You still don’t understand,” the man sighed, and you gasped when chapped lips brushed against your cheek. “Maybe I’ll fuck her first...”
“You won’t have the time.”
“Says who...”
He trailed off then. The last words you ever heard from your captor before an enormous explosion interrupted the tension, walls and floors shaking as dust and debris fell from the ceiling overhead.
You could feel the body behind you trembling as well, but you knew that it wasn’t from the explosion. It was from fear, and in a split second of panic, the man shoved you to the ground, and you yelped when your head collided hard against the concrete. 
You attempted to pull yourself back up, but there was something numbing and weighty keeping you on the floor, darkness swimming threateningly in front of your eyes once again.
There were familiar sounds: the sharp click of a gun, the whizzing of bullets flying overhead, and the cacophony of screams and yells.
The pain was keeping you from focusing, aware of vague figures passing in and out of your periphery, running and moving in all sorts of directions. It was chaos at its finest, and you were incapable of comprehending any of it. Instead, you could only focus on two things: the pounding of your pulse against your eardrums and the intermingled buzzing of familiar tones.
There was a hand on your shoulder, but you were incapable of responding to their call, succumbing to an irrefutable and dreamless sleep.
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The first thing you noticed when you were capable of understanding your surroundings, was the silky fabric of the bed sheets.
They were smooth to the touch and you flexed your fingers around them, humming in contentment when you silted open your eyes just enough to confirm that they belonged to you and Changbin. The ones you used on the King-sized bed in your shared room.
But therein lay the problem: you were alone in the bed, and the only voices you could hear certainly didn’t match the same tone of your husband.
You swallowed hard, flinching when the motion brought attention to the thick bandage around your neck, and upon touching the material, you were bombarded with a barrage of images reminding you of everything that had happened the previous night. 
It was enough to leave you shaking, seeking some form of comfort as you roused your body just enough to turn around to the sound of those voices, recognizing Chan, your husband’s boss, and Seungmin, the residential healer.
“Chan?” you groaned, grimacing at the dryness in your mouth.
“Y/N,” he acknowledged you, rushing over to your bedside in an instant. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” you said, watching as he lifted a bottle of water to hand to you.
“Drink this.”
You nodded, taking it from him. “Where’s Changbin?”
The question was met with silence, and you frowned when Chan and Seungmin exchanged quick glances. “Well, if nothing hurts, then I have other appointments,” Seungmin said, hurriedly dismissing himself from the room.
“Coward,” Chan muttered, but he was nothing but smiles for you, coming to sit down at your bedside. “Changbin...he’s busy.”
The answer wasn’t satisfactory, and your heart started beating a little faster. “Where?”
“Downstairs,” he said, and you knew exactly what that meant. 
“He brought him here?” you muttered, hating the idea of having someone like that under the same roof you called home. 
“Changbin insisted,” Chan replied, and you realized that he disapproved as well, but it still didn’t help your tender sensibilities, and you were ready to implode from the inside because you needed Changbin’s comfort.
“I need him,” you said, fixing Chan with a stern look. “Can you ask him to come up here?”
“He won’t be convinced until he’s done,” Chan said, but his gaze was soft as he leaned in closer. “I can help, if you’d like.”
It was a nice gesture, and normally you might take him up on an offer of comfort, but Chan wasn’t going to heal the turmoil bubbling inside of you.
The emotions burst forth, and your eyes had already glossed over from tears shedding themselves like dead leaves falling from a tree in the middle of a windstorm. “I just want Changbin,” you sobbed, and Chan was barely perceivable through the mess of your tears. 
You could tell Chan was upset by your dismissal, even as his fingers tried to brush away the wetness dotting your cheeks. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, and it spoke to a history between the two of you that often when unsaid.
You had been given to Chan, your organization’s leader, as a peace offering from a rival mafia group. It was a cruel trade, and you resisted as much as you could, especially since, at first, you were meant to be his betrothed.
And you came into the Miroh Group with a determination to resist them to the very end.
Until Changbin stole your heart.
From there, you couldn’t believe that you had gotten so lucky, falling in love whole-heartedly, capable of forgiving Changbin’s worst sins.
Including his more sadistic tendencies.
“You can try to see him,” Chan said, seemingly satisfied after wiping away most of the evidence of your internal breakdown.
You nodded immediately, even though you understood that what you might find downstairs wouldn’t be anything comforting.
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You felt a little unsteady on your feet, even with Chan helping you down the concrete steps descending into a place you tended to avoid.
The smell of alcohol and blood were both overwhelming, and you stumbled on the final step, rearing back at the sound of a truly gruesome gurgle that reminded you too much of drowning. 
In the middle of the room you managed to make out Changbin, wearing dark pants and a white t-shirt, allowing you to see all the blood painting the texture in ugly patterns.
But then your attention wandered over to the poor soul strapped to the chair, barely recognizable because of the damage caused by your husband, the one who was gaping at you while holding a knife in one hand and scissors in the other.
"Y/N,” Changbin whispered. “Why aren’t you resting?”
You shook your head, looking past the gruesome, mangled damage to see the pained expression of your former captor. 
Changbin had made good on his threat to tear the asshole apart, and your stomach rolled at the awful display of violence.
Done at the hands of the man who made the sweetest love to you in the dark recesses of your bedroom.
Still, you craved his presence, falling into his open arms as he held you close after tossing aside his tools. “Shhh,” he whispered to calm your tears.
“You weren’t there when I woke up,” you sniffled.
“I’m sorry, love,” Changbin said, soothing your cries with soft cooing. 
You savored his closeness, tucking your chin over his shoulder and opening your eyes to look upon the decrepit appearance of your former captor. “What are you doing to him?” you asked, and you felt Changbin sigh as he pulled back from you.
“I know you don’t approve, love,” Changbin said, and he glanced down at his ruined t-shirt and jeans, drenched in blood. 
Under most circumstances, you would agree, but you felt your hand jumping to your throat, wrapping around the bandage covering your wound. 
Changbin frowned at the movement, likely remembering the events that led to your injuries. “Kill him,” you said, and both Changbin and Chan seemed taken aback by your response. It was completely out of character, coming from someone who often disapproved of the murderous part of their work. 
“Y/N,” Chan whispered, and you could see that he wore wariness on top of his horrified expression.
“Come upstairs soon,” you said, squeezing Changbin’s hand with your own. “I need you.”
Your husband nodded, looking at you with something akin to awe as you left the downstairs basement with Chan hot on your heels and torturous screams assaulting your ears. 
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Chan only left your bedroom once Changbin arrived, showered and clean, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. 
“Careful,” Chan whispered to him on the way out, and you shivered.
But there was nothing that could warm you up more than Changbin, and you even managed a smile when he climbed into the bed behind you, wrapping a strong arm around your waist to pull you closer. “Hi, princess,” he whispered, and you felt like bathing in the sensual tone of his voice.
“Changbin,” you sighed in return, turning around so that you could face him.
“It doesn’t hurt too much, does it love?” he asked, reaching out to tenderly stroke his fingers across your bandages. 
“Not anymore,” you said. “Seungmin did a good job.”
“He better,” Changbin rumbled, and you tried not to roll your eyes at your husband. 
“I was really upset earlier,” you said. “When I couldn’t find you.”
“That’s my fault, princess,” Changbin said. “I didn’t know you would wake-up so soon....and there were things I needed to take care of.”
You sighed, closing your eyes hard against a distant image of your mind conjuring the bloodied and ruined form of your captor. “Did you find out who he belonged to?”
“Yeah, a small organization under Park,” Changbin said. “He was more than willing to talk after I took one of his fingers.”
Your heart twisted at his nonchalant tone. “I guess you silenced him.”
Changbin hesitated, pausing to look at you with concern. “Are you mad at me?”
“Just...disappointed,” you said. “I couldn’t hold myself together.”
“It would’ve torn me apart,” Changbin replied. “If I let him go without making him suffer for touching my princess.”
You closed your eyes, feeling Changbin trail his fingers across your arm. “But you’re here now?”
“Of course,” Changbin agreed, leaning in to kiss you gently. “I’m yours, love. For as long as you need me to hold you.”
“Might be all night,” you said, moving up to kiss under his jaw. “I need you in a lot of ways.”
Changbin chuckled at your implications, leaving nothing to be imagined as you grazed one finger over the front of his sweatpants where his cock lay flaccid. He titled your chin at a better angle, a glaze of lust darkening his eyes. “When you feel better,” he purred. “I’ll take care of your little pussy.”
You shook at his seductive promise, curling even closer to him as Changbin’s thudding heart lulled you into a comfortable peace.
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valaks · 3 years
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Hey Valaks! I love your blog and your writing!
Please could you do 1, 10 and 18 for the writing asks?? 🌺
Thank you for the ask! I have added a cut to hopefully not be that person clogging up the feed XD
1. Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?
I have a few collabs outstanding like Gemini and a Kabir/Alex sequel to Reunion (It’s rated T at the most so still kid friendly) with Lupin and Devil Went Down to Georgia with Galimau. My utter love for both of my collab partners for pulling me through at a time when I’ve been really struggling. I have a WIPs List but I’ll confess to not having touched most of them in quite sometime (partly from life, partly because I’m not sure how interesting they’d be to anyone else other than me which influences my writing more than I would like to admit):
Good Intentions: Smithers never thought he’d be anyone’s moral compass, he was no angel to sit in anyone’s shoulder but trying to keep Alex Rider from following in the ruthless footsteps of his father or worse his former handler, Alan Blunt is as close to hell as he can imagine. (Wherein Alex becomes head of MI6 we watch his morality slip away form the eyes of an increasingly frustrated and heartbroken Smithers - it all culminates when Alex uses a child “just as an informant, simple information gathering” but hidden behind the charming smile of John Rider and the brutal coldness of Alan Blunt’s words is Alex Rider dying as he says them (Smithers just hopes there’s still a part of the boy he once knew in there to mourn)
Walk the Line: Alex thought he was done with SCORPIA. But they kept creeping back into his life in the most unexpected of ways. He thought he could at least count on it being on the other side until he gets teamed up with Walker, his former classmate and current CIA spy. Unfortunately he still hasn’t been able to figure out whose side Walker is really on - attempted deep cover op like his dad, repatriated rogue spy back on the “good” side, or SCORPIA double agent? He doesn’t know but at least he’s nice....in that obnoxious American way.
Temperamental: (Sequel to Sentimental which isn’t all that popular and you would need to read it for the sequel but basically amnesiac Yassen whose memories stop pre John’s betrayal set during the Stormbreaker mission and features him trying to come to grips with the use of chemical weapons against children and how to handle Alex once he snaps back to reality which is where this starts) Yassen had promised Alex Rider that he would be safe from the world of spying but fate had other ideas. In the days after Sarov’s failed plan, Yassen scrambles to find where MI6 have hidden his wayward charge without drawing Rothman’s attention. A request from one of their existing clients to look into suspicious activity at his son’s former school prompts Yassen to investigate under the guise of offering security. He should have known where there was trouble there would be Alex.
10. How would you describe your writing process?
Lordy do I ever not have a good answer for this. Typically it involves an idea hitting me and then the determination: would this idea work better as a short to post on tumblr (because the set up would take away the tension or would require a multi chapter which is not really my strength), as a prompt to lob out into the ether for someone better and brighter to touch on, or a fic. Once fic is decided I determine whose perspective the fic would be the most interesting from either because it would create the most tension or their internal monologue/background knowledge would add the most to it. Then the summary is written and a title is chosen. If it’s something I’m really passionate about and I already have it in my head I tend to write it all in one go, if there’s more I need to chew on then it’s a series of dates with the Evil Writing App. The final determination is whether it’s good enough for Valaks or if it gets sent to an alt account.
18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.
Allegedly. I’ll try to go in order of posting -
Ruthless has a sequel where Alex just goes *quiet* once the initial dust as settled it’s unnerving to everyone because they’re not used to having to wonder just what Alex is thinking, at least not behind closed doors but what happened isn’t exactly something that can be recovered from easily, not when Alex isn’t sure who all’s in on it no matter what they’ve told him. Failure is the AU where I considered what would happen to Alex to make him want to torture.
Alibi was originally going to have Yassen show up in the end but I found it far more fascinating if MI6 was just testing Alex so out went Yassen and in went Ben. The sequel to it was torn apart and turned into Warm Reception because I wanted to trope flip SCORPIA comes to Brooklands and decided that it was more logical to have a small fight in Mrs. Bedfordshire’s lobby than anywhere else and I wanted to explore some side characters instead of Ben.
Providence’s sequel thoughts ended up inspiring Gentleman’s Agreement but I did write a small short for it “Yassen and Alex encounter each other on mission. Surprisingly they are working to mostly the same goal - Yassen needs to kill the millionaire who Alex needs to get information from. “I suppose I could answer some questions for you, Sasha. /In Russian/“ “Is now really the time for a language lesson?” he ground out in frustration but the man pointedly ignored him “/Fine but I don’t know some of the words/“ “/Then there is no better way to learn/“
I mentioned the Sentimental sequel but changing Sarov to come first and probable for almost a month before Yassen figures out he’s missing made the most sense. It was also a bit of fun at the Yassen would absolutely take Alex away from MI6....just to throw him in a school and throw away the key. Almost had him send him to Point Blanc but decided that wouldn’t quite fit all that well and wouldn’t be as interesting as if Alex had already gotten his feet back under him with MI6 and now sees that Yassen was right that MI6 would just use him until he’s dead but that doesn’t mean Alex wants to be anywhere near Yassen. Julia Rothman might have other ideas when she finds out what her newest second in command is hiding.
Gentleman’s Agreement.....there’s a lot of thoughts on Sequels and AUs, a lot of them have been written by better people, but that fic was written in 45 minutes so there wasn’t much time to recharacterize or change scenes. It did get Turncoat aka the Alex saves Yassen fic I wanted so badly.
Blood Brothers is a fic I really worked hard on considering how John would feel about his son being thrown into SCORPIA assuming Alex was of age. A rocky marriage was characterization that didn’t quite fit what I imagined would have happened but did fit the story so it stayed in. It was a fic that was supposed to get expanded on - the competition between Hunter and Yassen and Nile and Alex who is desperate to beat his Dad and his “apprentice”. I think two teenagers thrown against each other with a bit of a bone to pick, especially Yassen and Alex who can both hold a grudge even if one runs hot and the other runs cold, would have been compelling and a little fun but the premise and specifically John’s characterization doesn’t quite work out to me.
Found and Legends both have their plotting done but it’ll never see the light of day
Little Moments and Sweetest Thing were my guilty pleasure writing pieces for a while and I have about 1000 DMs of scenes for both of them that are lost to the sands of time and an embarrassing amount of self indulgence
Mates has a follow up ending for those who needed resolution in the comments of it. I’m not sure I did a good job of showing that Tom was in a semi abusive relationship since a lot of people seemed to blame him for him and Alex’s breakup. Most of my headcanons for how their relationship goes have them splitting much sooner just because of Tom’s own home life and either being unable to relate/talk to Alex and drifting away because his Mom throwing a plate at his head isn’t being hung over crocodiles but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt or because Alex is just too dangerous/jumpy to be thrown back into a school environment and lashes out even unintentionally especially not under the pressure of being seen as a failure. School is also a barometer of just how much he’s lost of himself and his childhood, bonus points for Alex being completely upfront with Tom about everything he’s done
In My Sights has an AU where this is all post Christmas at Gunpoint and Yassen is there because he knows Ian is already at Sayle’s factory and will have to be...handled. So two weeks of just getting Alex trained for the protection he might need, connecting him to resources, etc. Ian finding out that Yassen had been there was part of a draft at one point which was included Alex wondering about an all too sincere goodbye from Ian “who never hugged him” but I can’t find the snippet anymore ;__;
A Warm Reception was an alternate version. Originally I wanted it to be Alex watching his last chance at normality slip from his fingers and then the crushing realization that it was something that was his own doing, not even MI6 but Skoda who he had picked a fight with and the accompanying breakdown but then decided that Mrs. Bedfordshire was the right way to go upon writing the summary. Because everyone loves some Outsider POV
Adopted was supposed to be a one chapter throw away trope flip of K Unit adopts Alex. I kept it pretty consistent with Amitai and Lil Lupin’s K Units, tried to add in some more characterization just in how they treated some of the details. It has an alt ending/chapter where they find out Alex is Cub when they pull him from Three’s tender mercies almost by accident. I was persuaded into light humored fluff via guilt trip.
The Truth and Other Deadly Weapons has Ben acting exactly like he think he would in front of everyone but my AU was that this interaction happened in the field and absolutely shattered Ben’s trust in him partly because he had worked for the other side and partly because even if it ‘wasn’t as bad as it looks’ it showed a severe lack of judgment. It also featured several chapters of Alex running into the glass ceiling that is having “Member Malogosto Class of 2004” on your resume. Was going to feature Alex running into Walker as well and into problems within MI6 and the CIA but that was eventually cut and it was kept to one chapter.
Guardian....Guardian holds a very special place in my heart. I was given the prompt of a Monster Fic and I wrote what I knew but the interesting parts were all the ones that come after the story but might come across to a general audience as Hogwarts School of Prayers and Miracles. The plotting done post this was going to feature baby Angel Alex reuniting with his parents but...they were strangers to him and so he stayed with Yassen more and more, followed him, learned from him....it encompassed everything from the dynamics of broken families to reflections on theology and references from the Good Book....which is why it’ll never see the fandom but has a very special place in my heart.
In another, more perfect world Glocking Around the Christmas Tree is the Die hard fic this fandom deserves but as Lupin and I untangled the plot of the movie more and more we just couldn’t make it into anything that would be coherent on paper so it was changed and changed and is now a half finished sad abomination that sits on my works list only because Lupin would kill me if I took it down.
Hot Shot was supposed to feature my current favorite character that is not Nile Abara, John Crawley but I wimped out and changed it at the end because I swore I would write the Crawley fic that we all need. Hear me out: John Crawley knew and worked with John and Ian Rider, was respected by both of them, was recruited by SCORPIA within one year in the field, is the Chief of Staff of MI6, the man who “no one gets a knife in the back without him signing off” and is also the man who walks his dog to check on Alex. There’s a mentorship waiting to happen there, preferably in a nice work study program during college where Alex finally gets to see the repercussions of his missions and Crawley helps try and pull him back from the black mark that SCORPIA would have put on him.
My personal fluffy favorite is the spinoff of Devil Went Down to Georgia where Joe Byrne did pull Alex out post Skeleton Key and brought him home. There’s a pretty extended one about where Tom ends up after Mates. There’s also an actual sequel but ask me no questions and all.
Skipping a few collabs and Febuwhump fics but Burning Questions was just supposed to be Branded - a fic where upon being captured by Razim he is brought in and forcibly branded to differentiate the appearances of Alex and Julius (since Razim has decided to have him killed after shooting the Secretary of State). As a result of the pain levels spiking when Alex actually sees that the SCORPIA logo is branded onto his cheek Razim considers that emotional pain might be something to investigate. There’s a couple thousand words on it, one day I might polish it up.
First Impressions is supposed to be a mirror verse of Alex working for MI6 which includes Three as Blunt, Rothman as Jones and of course Sagitta as K Unit while he’s up against his father as Yassen and Yassen as Crawley. But it was cut down significantly even if the ideas are pretty fun to consider.
Sorry this was probably more than you bargained for but it was fun to get everything out there so thank you for asking
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angelguk · 4 years
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flame anon shared some jk angst thoughts so here’s fwb!au with jk but he’s in love with her and she isn’t until its too late. listen to hard feelings by lorde. a lot of back and forth between past and present in this drabble so sorry if it’s confusing. 1.4k (this drabble could be titled when forever was us)
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Goeun looks good in his arm. She’s exceptionally pretty, long legs that stretch out even when she’s sitting and a perfect heart-shaped face that makes everyone stop and glance back at her. They look good together, her chestnut mane bleeding into Jeongguk’s dark curls as their heads nudge against each other. You thought that the first time you saw them together too. It was dark, the corners of that club illuminated in hues of violet and fuchsia. And still, they looked like they belonged together — fitted as one. Nobody expected it to last. Goeun was clean-cut; she held herself to high esteem, everything about her sharp and perfected. Jeongguk on the other hand — he was a perfect mess; from the tattoos on his arms to the jumble of curls on his head. Even from here, you can spot the familiar dark ink that marks his body in effortless swirls and strokes. They still look beautiful against the warmth of his golden skin, spanning from his forearms to rest along his shoulder. It’s rare for him to have them on display but the stifling heat that sits heavy in the summer air demands for it. Perhaps you're focusing on his bare skin too much because Daeun pointedly nudges your ribs, the look she directs at you after your glare settles on her face displeased.
“You can’t eye-fuck a taken man in public,” she murmurs, pressing her lips against the rim of her cup a second later. You splutter on your own drink when your ears discern the sentence leaves her mouth, the burn in your throat unpleasant.
“I wasn’t doing that!” The indignation that colours your tone is half-hearted because your eyes are already drifting back to where he is. Goeun’s huddling into his side, wearing a navy jacket that belongs to him. You know that it does because that jacket practically lived in your car a couple of months ago. He’d used it as an excuse to see you the first time — before you’d developed an arrangement and you no longer had to create a reason to tumble into his arms in the middle of the night. It just became a simple text, maybe a picture and then Jeongguk was holding you, pinning you down, learning what made your skin spark and your mouth drop. But now, he’s here. Awfully far from you, holding someone else in his arms.
“Sure,” Daeun mumbles, the disbelief her voice tangible. But you push that aside, mind unable to let go of the image of those two together and content in each other’s arms just yet.
You wish you could be mad. Or jealous. Just a little bit. But there nothing in you that allowed justifiable resentment. Goeun hadn't done anything to hurt you. Jeongguk had, but you had hurt him first — his reactions were only a consequence of your aloofness, your lack of concern for his feelings. You thought that he could handle it, how hard it was for you sympathise with others. But despite his hard exterior, Jeongguk was made of delicate glass. He’d kept it from you, how easily you stepped on his heart with every careless thought you threw in his direction. But then one day he had cracked, shattered right in the backseat of your car moments after latching his mouth onto your neck.
You remember it with piercing clarity, that night.
“Do you love me?”
It was a simple question and yet it had left you grappling for air. You’ll never be able to erase the way he’d stared at you as he awaited your answer. Bare — so bare; his soul laid out before you, asking for nothing but acceptance.
But you couldn’t do that. All you shared in common was a literature class that Namjoon had forced you to take and rather intense romps in the sheets (or in this case in your car). You knew Jeongguk but you didn’t really know him. And how could you love someone you didn’t know.
It was your silence that did it, dampened the glimmer in his pretty brown eyes. He’d shoved it away with a huffed laugh and a quick ‘never mind’ before fucking you brainless in your backseat. It was quick and hard and desperate, the hands that gripped your waist brutal and his pace unforgiving. But even then you saw it, the disappointment. He felt different in your arms when you were done, your joined sighs permeating the air, fluxing into one. There was a distance, even though your naked bodies were pressed into each other. And that made your heart ache.
You wish you had given it time  — asked for more time. Because you could have learnt to love Jeongguk. A minute part of you already did.
Jeongguk’s rather soft. He’s got a whole mini collection of lotions for his sensitive senses, he likes drawing portraits of his puppy back home, he insists on sleeping on silk-covered pillows because it’s good for his curls, he enjoys doing laundry — obsessively so — and he’s got a collection of Iron Man socks that you only saw because of that one surprise hook-up that happened when neither of you were prepared for it (they had been bunched up at the edge of his bed, waiting to be stored in his drawers before you came over).
The list he’s could go on forever but the thing that gets you the most is his smile. It doesn’t start in his lips; it starts in his eyes. A gentle sparkle trapped in his warm gaze that intensifies when his eyes crinkle up before his pretty pink petal lips stretch into a smile that makes your heart feel tight with a rush of emotions you’ve never taken the chance to examine because they terrify you. And you hate that they do. Hated it even more when he wormed himself deeper into your heart. He used to bring you your favourite lemon tea every morning during your joint lectures. He’d insisted it was because the café was right next to his dormitory building but one afternoon Namjoon had let it slip that there’s no café within direct walking distance of where Jeongguk lived and he went out of his way to bring you that cup of tea during those mornings.
“You shouldn’t play with his feelings,” Namjoon had said, tone direct and firm because even though you were his best friend, he cared for Jeongguk too.
“I’m not,” you replied. And you weren’t — you really thought you weren’t. Because you’d agreed for it to be just sex. That’s all you wanted.
That’s not what Jeongguk needed though.
“I can hear your thoughts,” Daeun whispers. Her comment draws you out of your head, bringing you back to the present moment where Jeongguk isn't yours anymore. He never really was yours if you're being honest with yourself.
“What am I thinking about?” you return, trying to drown out the vision of Jeongguk in your bed with a quick tip of your cup down your throat. The burn feels welcome now.
“Him.”
And then he laughs a second later, a joyous bright sound tinkles through the air and makes your chest feel so tight you nearly fall over. It hurts, hearing him so satisfied and happy with his life while you feel like your wadding through a haze of blue, hoping he’ll reach out a hand to save you.
“I’m over that,” you choke back, abhorring the emptiness in your cup.
“You’re not,” Daeun returns, staring at you with that perceptive gaze of hers.
You wish, you wish so bad that she wasn’t right. You wish that you didn’t have Jeongguk constantly meandering through your head. You wish you were Goeun right now, leaning into his space, letting the world know you were together. You wish that hadn’t let him go. You wish you’d tried a little harder, gave him a little more of your heart. But some things are for the better — and when you sneak a glance at him again, spy the glow in his face, you know that this was one of those things. 
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kiribaku-queen · 4 years
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Home [7/10]
Pairing: Bakugou x reader, Kirishima x reader
Fluff, angst, werewolf!au
Word count: 4.7K
A/N: I’m so sorry if some scenes seemed rushed! I had a bit of a brain fart and procrastinated a lot. I didn’t want to leave you guys hanging and really wanted to put this chapter out. Excuse the mess of a chapter and enjoy the ride! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! 
Summary: Being called the beauty of the clan isn’t as nice as it sounds. The beauty of the clan is supposed to exude confidence, power, and well, beauty. You were quite the opposite, only possessing one of those traits. Yet, the older you got, the more you fit into the role you were given. After your brother and all the boys of age come back from their training period, it was time to find a mate. But who will steal your heart? Is it Bakugou, the rising leader of the pack, or is it Kirishima, the personal guard and the strongest in the pack?
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This whole break up thing was not easy on Bakugou. He would be watching TV. Bored. Patrolling the boarders. Bored. Trying to study new strategic plans. Bored. Training with the guys. Bored. Everything was boring without you by his side. And because he is so bored with everything that he does, that gets him angrier and more irritated than usual. Especially, with his new personal guards. Bakugou was having a harder time now that Kirishima wasn’t by his side. Kirishima knew him inside and out. He knew what he liked, how he wanted things, and how to do everything. But all these new guards were incompetent, and he didn’t want to spend all his days telling them what to do. Kirishima already knew and he knew how to get the job done without even asking.
His irritation wouldn’t be complete without mentioning Uraraka. She would still follow him around all day like she had nothing else better to do. He thought he could make it work with her. He really did. He tried so hard to ‘fall in love’ with her. They would go on dates, and by dates, he means following her around while she shops. They would have dinner together; her just talking about herself the entire time. He would take her to clan meetings with all the leaders; she dozed off and didn’t pay attention the entire time. It was annoying. She was annoying. The more he tried, the more he knew that they were never going to work out.
When he was with you, there was never a dull day. With you, everyday was filling with laughter, jokes, cuddles, sneaking out and doing stuff they weren’t really supposed to. With you, it was fun and exhilarating. When you would go on dates, there was never enough time in the day to do everything you guys wanted to do. And it was never just one person decides what they do the entire day. You both figured out what you wanted to do together. When you would have dinner together, it would always be in front of the TV, laughs and food being thrown at each other. But the best part was cooking the meal together. He was best cook out of the both of you so he would always teach you a new recipe. His favorite part about cooking together is you messing up and throwing a fit when you burn even the slightest bit of food. And when he took you to meetings, he was always surprised when you had something to say. But it was always insightful comments that made the leaders of the clan praise Bakugou for finding such an intelligent woman. When you spoke out, he found that so sexy. But now it was all gone. All those days he enjoyed and woke up looking forward to the day is gone down the toilet. Now he wakes up dreading what awaits him beyond his bedroom door.
It was another day of patrol. Bakugou hated being stuck inside all day every single day. So he opted for tagging along on today’s patrol pack. This way, not only does this give him something to do, but also to get away from Uraraka for once. When he left, she still insisted on accompanying him but he ran away so fast that she didn’t have a chance to run after him. Him and the pack checked the whole perimeter of the area, weaving through the thick forest and along side the river. When everything was checked thoroughly, it was time to head back. As the pack was heading back to the center of the town, Bakugou recognized the park where he first met you. He remembered like it was yesterday. A soft smile found its way to his lips as he recalled chasing away those boys who were picking on you. And when he saw you for the first time, you were a crying mess with your feet stuck in the sand. A chuckle escaped his lips when he insisted that you were a princess and how he picked you up to go get you cleaned. Damn, was he that sappy? Bakugou stopped in his tracks, causing the other men to also stop. He turns to them and taps one of them on the shoulder.
“Go on ahead. I’ll be back soon,” he says. The others nod in acceptance and go off without him. When they are out of his sight, Bakugou turns in the direction of your house.
He hides in one of the trees by your house, trying to see if he can get a glimpse of you. He knows that what he’s doing right now is… stalkerish but all with good reason. He just missed you so fucking much. It couldn’t hurt to just watch you from afar. Bakugou relaxed on a tree branch, legs crossed out in front of him, arms crossed behind his head. And then there you were. Bakugou jolted up, not really believing that you were there. You had joined your mother out in the garden. She was teaching you how to plant different kinds of vegetables and how to care for them. It’s been so long since Bakugou had last seen you and your beauty stunned him. He stared and stared, his heart beating fast and butterflies entered the pit of his stomach. It was taking his all for him not to jump down and embrace you. Your smile and whole being was so inviting. Everything you did put him in a trance. He was truly mesmerized.
Your mother left, leaving you alone in the garden. You took out your notebook and started drawing the different kinds of plants and notes about how to take care of them. Bakugou, watching from before, softens at the scene. Typical (y/n). Always wanting to do your best and learn whatever you can.
“Ha?” he said aloud, frowning at what he saw next. Kirishima? Kirishima came up behind you, rather too closely. That made you jump and turn to him, minimal space in between you guys. That didn’t sit well with Bakugou. His eyebrow twitched to see you smiling up and blushing at the red head. What the hell was going on?
“Whatcha doing?” Kirishima questioned, looking at the drawing on your notebook. You blushed and hid the notebook, clutching it close to your chest.
“Nothing,” you muttered, looking away from him. You guess you didn’t clutch it hard it enough because Kirishima easily stole it away from you. Gasping in shock, you immediately tried to grab it away from him but Kirishima already had the book up so high that you couldn’t reach. He laughed at your reaction but that didn’t stop him from stealing glances at your drawings. You were reaching for your book, making Kirishima back up, you following his every move. But in the midst of trying to take your book back, you tripped and fell right in his arms. Kirishima was quick to catch your waist to keep you steady. At the sight of this, fury was growing inside Bakugou.
“Woah,” Kirishima said as he caught you. Your hand landed on his chest, which was… wow. It was soft under your touch but you could feel the his muscle and he wasn’t even flexing. You quickly got off him. Kirishima was just as flushed as you were so you took the opportunity to snatch your book away from him.
“You said you wouldn’t touch me without my permission,” you reminded him.
“You tripped so I caught you. What’d ya want me to do? Just let you fall?” Kirishima pouted.
“No? I mean…” God, you didn’t know anymore. Being around Kiri lately has your head spinning and your feelings are so confused. Kirishima playfully smirked at how shy you got. He was going to leave it there and not tease you anymore until something moved in the corner of his eye. On instinct, his eyes traveled to the moving object in the trees and look who he sees? Bakugou Katsuki spying in the trees. Kirishima’s playful smirk turns into a devilish one. It was the perfect opportunity.
“Unless…” Kirishima starts to trail off. You look at him and in that moment, Kirishima grabs your waist, swiftly pulling you close to him. Wide eyed, you couldn’t even react because it all happened so fast. He leans in, eyes straight on your lips. “…you wanted me to touch you.”
“Kiri!!!!” you covered your face this time with your book, face completely flushed and embarrassed. You couldn’t bear to look at him in this situation. Kirishima’s eyes darted to the trees to find Bakugou gone. Feeling victorious, Kirishima leaned back and pat your head.
“I’m just joking, princess. Get dressed. We’re heading out in a few,” he calls out, heading back into the house. Still flustered, you peeked behind your book.
“Where are we going?” you questioned. He looks back and flashes you a smile with a thumbs up.
“Training!”
Bakugou was increasingly getting more annoyed and more furious by the second. He didn’t know why Kirishima was at your place or how you guys got so close, but he didn’t like it one bit. Kirishima pulling you closer to him, his arms around your waist, your chest on his and the closeness of your faces together put him over the edge. He could feel his heart breaking and turned his head away, not wanting to see what happens next. Before he could do anything stupid, he forced himself to go back to his place. But that image burned inside his memory for the rest of the day.
 “Why are we training again?” you ask Kirishima who was already stretching out. You stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. You changed into your only workout outfit, a pair of black and grey leggings matched with a matching crop top that hugged your figure nicely, and Kirishima dragged you to an open area in the forest.
“I’m going to teach you how to fight!” he said, enthusiastically. You bit your lip, nervously. You didn’t know if this was a good idea. You? Fight? That just wasn’t like you. You wouldn’t even know if Sero would approve of this either. Kirishima noticed how uncomfortable you got. His expression softened and took your hands in his, giving you a reassuring look. “Don’t worry. We’ll start off easy. I think this will help you find more confidence in yourself. And an excuse to get out of the house,” he explains. You were grateful that he was constantly thinking about you. Giving it a try couldn’t hurt?
“Okay, what are we doing first?” you asked, trying to get pumped up. Kirishima chuckled.
“Hold your horses. We aren’t doing anything until you stretch,” he says. And with that, you begin your daily training with Kirishima. You started off with the basics: kicks and punches. But day after day, you started learning more advanced moves and combos. It was hard and exhausting, but also a good way to relieve the stress you had been holding inside of you for so long. Kirishima was impressed by how fast you picked up all the moves. Soon, you were having one-on-one matches with him. In the beginning, he would go easy on you because he didn’t want to hurt you. Boy, did he really underestimate your power and ability. You were quick and strategic, thinking fast in the heat of the moment which caused you to land a few, good punches on Kirishima. After a while of fighting one-on-one in your human form, Kirishima thought it was time to change into your wolf form.
You don’t transform often, because you didn’t have to. So it was rare, even for Sero, to see you in your wolf form. When you did, Kirishima’s jaw dropped. I mean, you were very beautiful in person but how could you be beautiful even in your wolf form? You had slick, grey fur with blotches of white and black on your back. Your dark brown eyes, although fierce upon first glance, were kind and innocent. A black fog lightly surrounded you due to your quirk being Black Ghost.
Along with training you in your wolf form, he also helped you try to control Black Ghost without feeling overwhelmingly sad or angry. That proved to be the hardest part. And it took a long while before you could get the hang of it and even manifest it on other people which put you in a more advantage during fights.
You and Kirishima were fighting in your wolf forms. It was hard attacking and landing a hit on him since his quirk was hardening and his fur hardened due to it. It actually causes more damage to you if you try to attack. You had to think quick. You were losing energy and clearly losing this fight. Concentrating with all your might, you let Black Ghost take over Kirishima’s senses. Black Ghost whispered in his ears, attacking all his insecurities. This distracting him and he shook his head to try to get it away from him but to no avail. Taking advantage of Black Ghost distracting Kirishima, you leaped forward, pinning him to the ground. You both didn’t move, chests heaving up and down. You had won. Ecstatic, you transformed back into your human form. Your arms were pinned on both sides of his head, legs wrapped around his wolf form.
“Pinned ya!” you bragged, a wide smile that wouldn’t leave your face even if you tried. You never felt so exhilarated before. Countless attempts in trying to win a fight, you finally did it. But you celebrated too soon. Kirishima transformed back into his human form, flipping you over so now that you were pinned under him. He held your wrists above your head, legs securely around your waist.
“Pinned ya,” he imitated you. But you weren’t going down without a fight. You pushed him off with all your might, catching him off guard. He fell backwards, allowing you to trap him beneath you once again.
“Pinned ya again,” you mocked him. Kirishima sighed, indicating that he gave up. You became excited and giggled at your accomplishments. Kirishima smiled up at you. Not because you had finally won against him. But because you looked happy. He saw your progress of being a timid, shy little girl to this point, exuding confidence and power. You got so much stronger, physically and mentally that it was so sexy to him. He always saw you as a woman, but right now, he was so utterly attracted to you.
Your head was floating right above his. As much as he wanted to celebrate your winnings right now, he wants to do something else much more. You caught his gaze as something in them changed. He slowly lifted his head, leaning his head to the side to capture your lips. But before they could connect, you placed your hand on his lips.
“Didn’t give you permission,” you say and got off him, leaving him frozen in his spot and speechless on the ground. He groaned and playfully punched the air out of frustration. You silently laughed at his reaction. “Come on big baby! It’s getting late and I still have to get ready for tonight,” you tell him.
“Right the party…” Kirishima gets up and dusts himself off. You two walk back to get ready for the full moon party.
Every year, the clan holds a full moon party to celebrate the moon’s powers. Without the moon, you and everybody else wouldn’t be able to transform into the wolf forms. Thus, making you just regular humans. Even though every month has a full moon, you only celebrate once a year because that’s when the moon is at its biggest and its brightest.
You changed into a new dress that you had been working on all year prior to the party. With the help of your mom of course. It was a red dress that was light and flowy against the wind. Very easy to move around in. You wanted to impress a certain hot head with this dress, that’s why you worked on it for a whole year. But now that you two weren’t together… well, you didn’t want all your effort to go to waste. Although, it does carry a sad meaning behind it.
You appeared in front of Kirishima in your new dress. Your parents had went on ahead to secure all the best foods and spend some time alone together. It was their date night. And Sero went alone to try to find his own mate. So he rode solo. You just went with Kirishima. You didn’t mind his company at all, since you guys spend so much time together anyway. Kirishima gawks at you. How many times was he going to be stunned by you? Literally, everything you do was making his heart race. You both were ready to leave, all that was left was your shoes. It probably wasn’t going to be comfortable by the end of the night, but you wanted to look good. You sat down to put your heels on but one of the straps was stuck. Seeing you struggle with your heels, Kirishima bent down to help you. He fixed the strap that was tangled and fixed it through the hoop, tightening it so that it fit around your feet comfortably but not too tight.
“There,” he says as he finishes. He looks up and meets your eyes. Time freezes as you stare into each others eyes. Up close, you could see his features clearly. The scar on his eye, his wide, deep red eyes, his fair skin, the sharp jawline, and his signature sharp teeth that scared off a lot of people but became less intimidating because of how kind his smile was. You didn’t notice that Kirishima was leaning in again but this time, you didn’t move or stop him. Instead, he stopped himself. He promised that he wouldn’t touch you without your permission, and he was going to keep that promise. So he backed off, disappointed in himself. Your lips were just so inviting and you looked so good in that dress that he couldn’t help himself. But a promise was a promise. Damn, he really cockblocked himself. He got up from the ground and turned to leave, but you were quick to grab his arm. He turned to face you and was shocked when your lips met his in a soft kiss. Before he got comfortable in the kiss, you pulled away and stuck your tongue out at him.
“Come on, we’re late!” you squealed and grabbed him out of the house, holding onto his arm the entire way to the party.
When you arrived, music was playing loudly and multiple conversations were taking place. It didn’t take you very long to find your parents sharing food at one of the vendors and Sero trying to smooth talk to several of the ladies there. You rolled your eyes at him and took Kirishima to one of the food stands nearby that was selling dango on a stick. Your favorite! Both you and Kirishima were enjoying your time, indulging on all the delicious food present. But that was put on pause when you ran into a couple that you really hoped you wouldn’t see.
Bakugou and Uraraka, too, were eating food from the stalls. Well, Uraraka was. Bakugou was following from behind, looking uninterested as always. When they spot you and Kirishima, they stopped. It was like a stand off between you two and them. A sharp pain attacked your chest and your heart started picking up the pace. You thought you were going to be okay seeing him, after all, it’s been a few months since you guys last saw each other. But with the tears building up, you realized it was all too soon. Kirishima’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance and stood behind you, protectively.
Bakugou, too, felt his heart start to race upon seeing you. Mixed feelings were crashing on him all at once. You was surprised to see you, but was angry that you were here with Kirishima. You looked beautiful in that red dress. Was it new? But you were tearing up, he could see it. Uraraka, on the other hand, was all smiles, even after what happened. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at them any longer so you tugged on Kiri’s sleeve, signaling that you had to leave.
“Let’s go,” he whispers in your ear, and leads you past them. Kirishima glaring at Bakugou and Bakugou doing it right back. Bakugou hands clenched into fists at his side and his jaw clenched. Uraraka glances to the side to see his reaction and tries her best to stifle a smile.
You were pretty down after that. Food and interacting with others wasn’t really helping either. If your mood was done, so was Kirishima. He was normally very energetic but he couldn’t be selfish and have fun while you were down because of your ex. He looked around and found some of your students dancing in the middle of the crowd, along with others in the dance circle. Taking your hand, he dragged you in the middle of the dance floor to dance with your students. You were awkward at first because you weren’t in the mood. But seeing the young ones enjoying themselves and dancing around you was cute and a small smile made it to your lips. Eventually, you were laughing when Kirishima was pulled into a couple dance with this elder woman. He gladly danced with her and with much enthusiasm. You stood on the side watching everyone enjoy themselves dancing. It actually made you want to dance with them. Like someone had read your mind, a random gentleman pulled you into the dance floor, forcing you to dance with him. You were a bit shocked at first but went along with it. Soon people were switching partners and you were spinning everywhere that you had a big smile plastered on your face. Dancing made you forget about everything that happened earlier and regained your confidence.
Throughout the night, you saw Uraraka and Bakugou more than once. But you payed no mind to them anymore. Kirishima made sure that all your attention was on him. He bought you food, took you dancing, go back for more food and drinks, and back to dancing again. There was a time when you passed Uraraka who was at a food stand. You were in a good mood and feeling a little naughty. You activated Black Ghost and let it manifest on Uraraka. She couldn’t see anything but heard unpleasant things. She was looking around, flailing her arms around and trying to drown out the sound of Black Ghost. You snickered and that got the attention of Kirishima. He saw what you were doing, but didn’t stop you. He was actually enjoying your small prank. But he stopped you, only to bring you back to dancing.
You were getting lost in the music and dancing with random people. You even partnered up with Sero and your father at one point. The night turned into a lot of fun. That’s right. You shouldn’t let someone who didn’t care for you ruin your night. You had so many people that made you have fun around you. Why ruin the mood when everyone is enjoying themselves? The song was coming to a close with a final round of rotation of partners. You hadn’t partnered with Kirishima yet, surprisingly. The final rotation was about to happen and you thought Kirishima was going to be there, but instead, another man grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the dancing crowd. Huh? Where was this man taking me? Who is this? Why are we moving away from the group? Your back gently hit a tree and two powerful arms trapped you. You looked up to see hot-blooded, vermillion eyes. Bakugou.
“Bakugou-” you whisper his name. You couldn’t believe he was right in front of you, so close at that. You didn’t know what to say. It’s been so long…
“What are you and Kirishima?” he questions. You start to feel annoyed. He breaks things off with you and now he’s getting mad because you’re paying attention to another man?
“That is none of your business,” you inform him, pushing yourself off the tree.
“It is,” he says.
“Yeah? Enlighten me. How?” you challenge him. Bakugou was a little taken back by your response. He hasn’t seen you act like this before. Now that he thinks about it, your aura has changed. You looked more confident and stronger. You looked like a totally different person. The way you talk, your posture and how you present yourself. It was…captivating. He cleared his throat, embarrassed that he couldn’t come up with an answer. “Need I remind you that we are no longer together. Whether or not Kirishima and I are together, is our business and our business alone. Now if you would excuse me,” you tried to escape his hold but he pulled you back.
“So you’re not together,” he questions, but it sounded more like a confirmation. You looked away and didn’t answer him. That gave him his answer. He felt relieved. Bakugou stared at you and took his time examining you. Any feeling of anger vanished as he inhaled your scent because damn, he missed you. Now that you were so close to him and really in front of him, he was having a hard time controlling himself.
“I missed you,” he confesses accidentally. That was supposed to stay in his head, but now that’s its said out loud, there’s no going back.
Crack.
“Bakugou, don’t do this,” you pleaded, sighing. Your heart hurt hearing those words. Because for the longest time, you wanted to hear that. For the longest time, you had longed for his touch and for him to come visit you. For the longest time, you wanted him to hold you and tell you it was a lie. You wanted him to at least apologize for breaking your heart and give you a better explanation on why he was doing this. Hell, if he came begging for you to run away with him, you wouldn’t miss a beat and go with him. But it’s been so long and far too late for that. Or so you thought. With him being in front of you and his scent filling your scenes completely, all those feelings and thoughts were coming back. Looks like you weren’t over him like you had previously thought.
“(y/n),” Bakugou began. You looked up into his eyes and they were desperate. “Just… fuck. I can’t do it. I don’t want her. I want you. I want you, (y/n). Forget everything I said, okay? Can we just, start over?” he begged. Your brows furrowed, looking at this expression. He was really hurting. You could tell his feelings were genuine, but you couldn’t bring yourself to accept him. Not with Uraraka still in the picture.
“Bakugou, I’m sorry. I just can’t.” you tell him. Your heart broke even more when he looks at you, like his world was falling apart. You wanted to caress his cheek and pull him into a hug but that you refrained. You had to be strong. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Walk away.
“I’m sorry,” was the last thing you said before escaping his grasp and walking back to the party. Bakugou just stands there in the same position that you left him in. A single tear rolls down his face as he had never been so heart broke before.
Meanwhile, back at the party, Kirishima was looking for you after the dance. You just disappeared and he was getting worried. He couldn’t even sniff you out before there was too many senses invading his nose. As he was searching, he didn’t even notice the people around him and he bumped into someone.
“Sorry,” he quickly said and continued on searching.
“Aw, now that’s not how you should address your boss,” a voice said. He froze in his tracks. Turning around he was faced with Uraraka who had her hands crossed in front of her chest, looking smug.
“Uraraka,” he addressed her, not looking happy at all.
“Kiri,” she said mockingly. She spots you heading back to the part from the woods. Bakugou shortly following after, looking dejected. How perfect. “Look like the plan is working perfectly.”
A/N: Please don’t hate me.
Tagged: @goodpop9 @superblyspeedydragon @tspice283 @marvelobsessedteen​ @rosetheshapeshifter @cabbagesquadfam @bnha-iamhere​ @theartsydoodler​ @taehyungbbe​
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honestlyfrance · 4 years
Text
The Missing Letters Between Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes and Detective Samuel Wilson
square filled: Detectives AU
warning: innuendo; swearing; the usual gay debunking from historians (subtle); murder cases; car accident
summary:
In the late ending 19th century, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes resigned from his duties as a military officer to follow Detective Samuel Wilson to the ends of the world, even going as far as accompanying the strange and wistful man in his cases. The letters collected by many biographers and museums are only the few correspondents between the two rumored lovers, running between the scrutinized years of 1889 towards the start of 1900, the timeline: The Sergeant running away from a German Spy group after the Detective uncovered a massive Russian Spy Ring decades earlier, calling fair game. Historians still can’t tell the full story that changed Europe, and neither do the letters.
a/n: I have obviously given up on writing, resorting to edits, but I still don’t know if this counts as an edit or a fic lmao anyway they both fit the requirements. Join me in the frustration of this AU and tell me what you think! Brackets mean commentary! Careful - this is pretty long!
@sambuckyevents​
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[ The few letters curated are in code. Historians speculate it’s to hide the two men’s letters, making it difficult for anyone to read them, but what raises questions were the simple code used in each one: Caesar Cipher, a cipher where each letter of the alphabet is substituted for a letter three positions further. Historians then speculate why had the two men used such a simple and easy code to cipher their letters, and to this day, they cannot offer a concrete answer. The only letter that differed in code was from James Barnes, wherein you have to use a special kind of glasses that merges the two different inks used, red and blue, to form a coherent word. The glasses used to read this letter was owned by Samuel Wilson, but his biographers still speculate on the other colors the glasses are capable to read. ]
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17, 8196 
[ date still being speculated ]
Dearest,
The only thing keeping me together was you: me wanting you so badly. I couldn’t wait to sleep in our bed, hearing you snore so softly, or watch you pace in the room, a pencil in your mouth, your murmuring dulling me to sleep. I will be awake so 
Beloved, Barns
[ Pages missing ] [ Believed to be unfinished on purpose, but is merely speculation ]
[ To hide coherency between their letters, Samuel Wilson initiated using different papers, ashing pages, and using different inks. In his other letters, Samuel Wilson used several penmanship that barely look the same from the others; this is obvious in his letters to Sarah Wilson, his sister, and James Rhodes, his close friend. James Barnes, however, only wrote in the same handwriting, but he was ambidextrous, and his right and left handwriting were strikingly different, to which he used to his advantage. ]
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[ The next letter is said to be Barnes’s last letter sent to Wilson before he finally settled down in his hometown. There were no records that show that Barnes really did settle down somewhere in Brooklyn, or in New York, for that matter, but what is sure is that he had met up with his sister, Rebecca Barnes, in Brooklyn during this time. The rumored letter written by Wilson to which Barnes is replying to was burnt along with the other donations to the Smithsonian Museum in the car accident of Wilson’s last descendants - luckily, no one got hurt. 
This letter of Barnes’s was one of the few that were descriptive enough to set the scene, as seen with the reminiscing of the London Streets of where Barnes and Wilson lived in. Another detail in this letter was the infamous Scarlett Body Case, the gruesome murder of Elizabeth Scarlett, an African-American opera singer, to which Wilson was assigned to. The only ever existing information about this case is in Federal Custody among the F.B.I. who work hard on closing the case the famous detective failed to solve. The Scarlett Body Case is the last case Wilson was known to have before he disappeared. ]
Brooklyn, Dec 16, 1900
To Sam Wilson, down in Washington, D.C.
I have received your last letter with a warm heart, and all I could think about was how tragic your past years must've been. I wish I could've been right by your side, cheering you on as you trek every path that led you somewhere or to a dead end. Just as I read your hefty letter, I could feel myself submerge into the scene. I could feel the London streets and smell the thick air of smoke, feel the chilling winds of November frost as well as your lips tasting of nicotine. I breathe in the pages and could smell the strong scent of your cologne and faint blood. Have you been writing after every lead or case? I love that about you, but that doesn't mean you have to keep that awful habit. Please, at least wash your hands.
I see that you need some help on the Scarlett Body Case, yet, again, that road is past me. I don't feel the adrenaline of solving murders, jewelry thieving, or sudden disappearances, and I'm so sorry I can't give you what you want. As I sit here in my drawing room, a thought dwells upon the air, thick with dread: "Is this the only thing Sam wants from me?" and I always think, maybe it's right. Was that not the reason we left Versailles? Because we couldn't handle the loss? We've been battered and bruised, Sam, and I don't think I could take that grief to my deathbed anymore.
Time isn't kind for us, nor will it ever allow us to breathe freely. This haunts me to no end; I thought I could avoid it until your letter came to me. All the way from America, how are you doing there? You've already said so many times how your new profession is treating you, but have you felt that urgency? have you felt that adrenaline? have you tasted strawberries on another's lips yet? have you found something to exhaust your talents on? You're easy. You probably already have while you waited for this letter to come back to you.
And yes. I still do think about that night. The whipping London air we love haunts me every night in April and all I could think about is the way your hands wrap themselves around mine. I couldn’t dread you for long, and I haven’t felt so much longing until you. I know I said I don’t write much in letters, afraid that future historians might find out that I love you, adore you, cherish you, but I really don’t care anymore. I hope each day that in some other time out there, our letters will be displayed for the masses, so they, too, can know what true love is.
Yes, she is fine.
Yours, forever and always,
Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes
[ The one paged letter is said to be incomplete and may have more pages describing Barnes’s past life in England, but that is merely speculation. This letter is also under investigation by the F.B.I. to help understand better Howard Stark’s murder on December 16, 1900 to which the letter is dated; the investigators hoped that the letter would reveal any information on the aftermath of the case but the abrupt ending of the letter didn’t answer anything. ]
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[ The famous line “Let your lover go, you said; I didn’t want to go” came from this letter of Barnes’s. This, in addition to the rest of the letters, were speculated to be love letters, but historians claim that there weren’t enough evidence to prove that this affair happened. 
It’s in this letter where Barnes had helped Wilson with his cases after the aftermath of their separation, and it’s this letter where historians concluded that they still exchange letters. The case with the Sir Willobough character does not exist and still stump historians and biographers to this day. ]
Brooklyn, Jan 24, 1901
Dearest Sam Wilson
Have you tried asking Sir Willobough for the napkin? You’ve recalled that he wasn’t in both places, but his alibi may be strong, but so was he: the two streets are near his store, is it not? This is the only letter you may find help from me, for I still take my stand, I do not want to help. That life is past me. My friend, have you not realized? 1892 scarred me. It has scarred you. I don’t want to take part in any endeavors that may harm you. I love you too much to see you hurt like this.
The post office was quite clumsy this whole month, because I had only received your last two letters dated Dec 12, 1889 and Dec 30, 1889 just yesterday, and I don’t know what came over me, but I had sat myself down in the drawing room and had written all of this mess. Yes, I’ve written the first page last to apologize for the mess you shall see. I didn’t want to display myself so bare like that but it had to be done: I miss you badly, I must admit. I cannot dwell on the fact that I had to leave you. We had a steady life and income, the stars cannot touch us with our fame and wealth, but, as all legends do, we died, and hence, we are forgotten. I’ve been left wishing for you to live forever but I know technology isn’t as advanced as that. I just wish you to know, may it be my final breath: I always wonder if you had loved me too, because I really couldn’t know. If you did, we would’ve stayed, but, yet again my mind surprises me, love isn’t supposed to be entrapment, it’s supposed to be free. Let you[r] lover go, you said; I didn’t want to go, Sammy. 
[ Page 2, 3, 4 missing ]
[ The fifth page is the only accompanying page of the complete letter that survived. It is where Barnes had described the night in which they had both met. The public, in addition to the historians, still debate over what the two men truly did in the library. ]
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All I could think of was the day we met: I was in my uniform, had just told my superior officers to bugger off, had finally resigned from my post, and suddenly you appeared. I still remember the host of the party. His name was Howard Stark, an old and dying man, who gave out parties so extravagant, may there be stories about it. Every room was illuminated with golden lights that the stars were jealous of, and there was food from all over the world, something so delicious I had filled myself to the brim. Everyone who was everyone was there. My General’s aides-de-camps were there and I had told them to “fuck off” as I had put it gently, then right at the top of the grand staircase was an angel, yelling at the top of his lungs, ‘General Valhan, you are under arrest for arson and homicide!’ Everyone’s head turned to you and laughed, but the guards weren’t laughing, handcuffed my General and I laughed the loudest. It must’ve come as insulting and even after a decade I still apologize for it. I’m sorry. You should’ve seen his face! I have never seen such terror on a man’s face, and I’ve been to war. 
I had caught you right at the moment, chased you up the stairs, and you saw me, ran away, and we played cat and mouse until we cornered each other in the library, locked the door, and had the best night of our lives. If anyone knew what we did there, we could’ve been killed for it, but, Bah! I love it. I love you. I still remember the coat you wore and how you threw it on the floor, how we wrestled each other on the floor before kissing so gently the angels cowered at the softness. I have never seen anyone so beautiful wearing only glasses, but then again, I hadn’t met you. And all was swell, all was sweet, we shared a cigar and I asked for your name. I still remember the fake names you threw at me: Jack Smith, Richard Wilkes, Patrick Stevens. Only when you gave me your business card was when you told me.
Another memorable moment was when I had chased your train and joined you to Versailles. Everyone was stunned. Everyone hated us. I loved that so much. I would ride that train again and again if you wanted to.
[ Another notable detail in the matter were the fake names Wilson gave Barnes, because those names were the names of his lesser known solved murder cases in which all victims died by strangulation and/or air-deprivation. There are a lot more Easter Eggs of Wilson’s many cases in the single page but the most talked about is the train express to Versailles, because it is here that Barnes and Wilson were being followed, ensuing the infamous manhunt for the two men by the unnamed Russian Spy Ring. ]
[ missing pages ]
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lunarhold · 4 years
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─ pairing: rob lucci/reader ─ au: witch ─ warnings: smut, very mild blood & violence ─ words: 12.8k
─ summary: a stranger washes up on shore, and suddenly you find yourself with company. you aren’t sure you’ll survive for a year.
─ a/n: i wrote this in present tense, which i’ve never done before, so i’m hoping it’s decent. also, this didn’t go in the direction i wanted it to, but i just don’t have the motivation to edit it 600x, so this is pretty much pwp
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It’s been a few days since the island’s been back in the Grand Line-- or that’s where you always assume it to be-- and it’s been raining the entire time. You’ve spent much of your time sitting by the window, curled up under a blanket watching the waves roll across the sand. 
The horizon is a blank, empty sea in shades of grey. Half of you hopes someone will show up this time, the other half tells you you want the peace maintained.
It’s later in the day, the sun starting to set in the distance, when the magic of the island ripples, an alert that a living creature has landed on the shore. You set off immediately, allowing the island to lead you further down the beach. It’s several minutes before you finally get there and you’re soaked and chilled to the bone when you do. A cursory scan of the beach reveals nothing, and for a moment you think they’ve moved on already. But upon a second, slower inspection, you spy something.
In the water, sprawled on a piece of ragged driftwood, is a man.
As you wander up to him, you fear he might already be dead. The waxy, water-logged paleness of his skin makes him look like a corpse, and it takes a moment for you to finally make out the faint rise and fall of his chest. His breathing is rapid, uneven, and shallow and you worry he won’t make it through the next ten minutes, let alone the night. 
As you set about preparing to move him, a soft, unfamiliar cooing sounds in your ears, just before a pigeon settles on your shoulder.
“We don’t have pigeons here,” you ponder aloud, pausing in your ministrations for a moment to examine the bird. “Did you come with him?” you ask, gesturing to the unconscious man.
In an unsettling imitation of a human, he cocks his head and nods.
You hum once before turning back to your strange new patient. It takes only a few minutes and a wave of your hand to get him into the house. It’s already expanded inside, a new room appearing adjoining the living room without your input into it.
Settling your guest in bed, you begin to gather the items necessary to heal his wounds. Other than the massive scar on his back, his injuries are minimal. At worst, he had been battered by the sea, sustaining multiple contusions and numerous cuts and scratches. He was one lucky bastard to have avoided any broken bones.
Throughout the entire    time you’re treating the man, the pigeon sits upon your shoulder without a peep, and doesn’t seem inclined to give you any information on either himself or his master.
This set off alarm bells in the back of your mind, but you push it down. At worst, you would need to kick him out of your home, still injured and let him fend for himself. It wouldn’t be the first time that you had taken care of an injured person only to have them turn around and attack you. More often than not, you kicked them flat off the island. 
The alternative wasn’t something you liked to consider.
As you stare down at the handsome stranger, you hope that isn’t the case this time.
In the days that follow, you keep a watchful eye on your patient, waiting for any sign that he’s going to wake up. After a week, you begin to fret that it isn’t going to happen. His complexion is much healthier, and his breathing is even and steady. 
By all accounts, he should be awake by now. 
In fact, he should have been awake a week ago.
There’s another problem as well: the island has already jumped from his plane into its own. Looking out the window, towards where the water should be, reveals a thick fog. If one were to step off into that fog, they would simply find themselves on the other side of the island.
This posed a problem of safety, since you don’t know what type of person he is. If he attacked you, defending yourself wouldn’t be enough anymore.
There’s a soft stirring behind you and the pigeon, who’s barely moved from your shoulder since the first day, cooes loudly and takes off, cuffing your face with his feathers in his excitement.
You spin around at the sound of a man’s voice, deep and rich and groggy, saying, “Hattori.”
He’s standing, and it strikes you just how tall he really is. He towers at least a foot over you, giving you a once over that could have made your skin shrivel. 
“Who are you and where am I?” His eyes never leave you, liquid silver over cold steel, and you shiver.
“I’m _____. You washed up on my island over a week ago, half-dead,” you say, moving over to your kitchen sink. More than anything, you want to examine his wounds now that he’s moving, but the chill radiating from him tells you not to even think it, let alone mention it. 
Instead, you fill a glass of water and hold it out to him. While he had been unconscious, it had been nearly impossible to get him any type of nourishment. You had risked water, but food wasn’t an option. It had come down to small amounts of broth and hope that he would wake before he died of starvation.
His frown deepens, but he takes the cup anyway and almost inhales it, then holds it back out. After he drinks his fill, he pulls on a shirt that you had laid out beside his bed and gives you a curt nod. He doesn’t say anything about food, and you hesitate to offer. The aura he’s giving off is almost terrifying, as if drawing his attention would put you in a crosshair.
“Thank you, but I need to be on my way,” he says as he heads to the door.
“Be my guest,” you say with a shrug, following him at a safe distance out onto the porch. “But I won’t be here when you come back.”
Your words, said in amusement, catch him off guard, and he glares at you with suspicion. “What does that mean?”
“You’ll see,” you say, waving your fingers. When he reaches the grass at the foot of the stairs, your house rises to its feet. “There are dangerous animals on the island,” you call as it begins to walk away, swaying from side to side. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”
The stranger watches the even stranger house disappear into the woods in stunned silence.
Only when it’s fully disappeared and the sound of creaking wood has ceased does Lucci turn to survey his surroundings. It looked like a typical forest, but there’s something that raises the hair on the back of his neck. 
He picks a random direction and begins to walk, knowing he’ll reach shore soon enough.
                                                      _____
It takes longer than you expect for him to find you again, though you aren’t sure if it’s because he’s stubborn or because of your ever changing location. Regardless, it’s a few weeks before he shows up again, disgruntled and filthy.
“Well, hello again,” you say from your porch swing. The house eases down to its knees, tucking them underneath the rest of itself until it looks just like a regular house. “Find what you were looking for?” you ask, barely containing the amusement.
He glares at you as he climbs the steps, coming to a stop right in front of you. “Care to explain why I am unable to leave?”
You cock your head to the side, still gently pushing the swing back and forth. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be a little more clear.”
A snarl escapes the man and he leans forward, grabbing the chains in either hand and snatching the swing to a halt. With his lips curled up and his teeth bared, he commands, “Explain, before I decide to set this island alight.” His words, dangerous though they are, are said in such a deep, calm manner that it sends shivers down your spine. It’s clear to you that he can only take so much teasing, and you grow serious, much as you want to have just a little more fun at his expense, you can tell he isn’t joking. “This island only appears in your plane once a year, for approximately seven days. You were unfortunate enough to have washed ashore…” You pause to think for a moment.”...three days before it disappeared back here. You were unconscious for seven in total.”
He curses and pins you with a glare cold enough to freeze water. It’s evident that he’s a man used to getting his way through fear and intimidation. Unfortunately for him, that was going to get him nowhere this time. 
“So there’s no way off.”
“Not for another year,” you tell him, letting your eyes travel over the tree line. Like the coast, most of the island was covered in thin wisps of fog, not quite as thick as at the edge. Here, it was always damp and cold. If there was a sun, you had never seen it.
He’s quiet for a moment, watching you with derisive confusion. When you finally look at him again, he frowns. “You said, ‘your plane’. Are you not human?”
“Nope,” you say, popping the ‘p’ with a smile. “Your world is no longer my home. I can’t leave this island.”
The man’s frown deepens, but he deigns to sit beside you. His huge frame barely fits on the swing, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “That’s why you kept me here?” 
Though he posed it as a question, it sounds like a statement. At first, he had been angry that he was trapped here, but the more he explored, the more he understood that the island was far from normal.
You nod, drawing your legs up underneath you as your companion takes over pushing the swing. You wonder if it’s unconscious, and smile. “That and you would have died had I sent you off. You washed up unconscious, and didn’t wake up for almost a week.” You look over at him, meeting his gaze. “Honestly, I was afraid you might anyway. You didn’t eat anything with me.”
All you get in response is a hum.  There’s some curiosity about how he survived, but you feel it might be a bit too rude to ask.
He’s staring out into the woods now and you lapse into silence, allowing him to gather his thoughts. It had been an infinitely long time since anyone had found your island, and no one had ever actually been stuck on it with you. It was a dangerous gamble, given you knew nothing about him. But you would have felt far too guilty sending him off to his death, so you had cast your lot.
Speaking of which… 
“What’s your name, by the way? If you’re going to be here for a while, I’m going to need to call you by something.”
He turns around to regard you, and the smile he gives is wolfish, the change in his demeanor enough to give you whiplash. 
His eyes glint with danger as he leans in closer. Chills shoot up your spine as his warm breath ghosts over your ear, and they don’t stem from fear.
“Rob Lucci.”
It’s going to be interesting, having him here.
                                                      _____
As it turns out, having Lucci around is both a blessing and a curse. He’s strong, far stronger than you, allowing him to take over a lot of the manual labor you had been using magic to complete before. In this way, he avoids being in the house as much as possible, and you begin to wonder if he’s avoiding more than just the house. In his defense though, he tended to get irritable if he sat around too much, so you never say a word about it.
The missing shingles on the roof, the noisy door-hinges, the faucet constantly leaking in the kitchen, all of those are fixed without a word and in record time. Unfortunately, your magic couldn’t make up for your total lack of handiness, and it showed when things broke again after a few weeks. But he took care of it better than you could have dreamed.
His favorite past-time, though, is clearly wood cutting, evidenced by the overflowing pile of logs on the porch. It’s a wonder how he managed to do so much in a single day, but it’s hard to complain about his efficiency. On the other hand…
“There’s no more room on the pile,” he says from behind you.
Next to the window, you had set up a second bird stand for Hattori. You turn from feeding Hattori to look at him, biting your lip as your eyes land on the waistband of his pants and drag slowly up his naked torso. Even in the coolness of the evening, on top of the natural chill of the island, he’s dripping from the exertion of cutting wood. It’s almost impossible to tear your eyes away from the delectable sight, but it’s even harder to meet his eyes when you finally do. 
You would swear he did it on purpose.
He’s wearing that predatory grin again as he watches you watch him. There’s something more to it this time though, like he’s daring you to make a move. He’s only been here a week and yet he seems hellbent on breaking you. It’s impossible for you to pinpoint, but ever since he had moved in, you felt like a fire had been lit for him. 
You swallow the lump in your throat, willing your over enthusiastic heart to calm down. It becomes too hard to think the longer you hold his gaze, so you pick a point just over his shoulder to lock onto. From there, you can see his shoulders rise and fall in laughter as he slips his shirt back on.
“Well, there really isn’t anywhere else to put it,” you say, sounding more hoarse and unsure than you would have liked. He makes you feel like a rabbit, trapped in the den of a wolf and he’s just playing with you before he pounces.
And he was. Lucci was bored, and in the few days he’s been there, he’s come to realize how long it’s been since you’ve had company and therefore how easy it is to rile you up. By the same token, though, something about your shy attraction is appealing to him. 
He’s just waiting for the right moment to pounce.
“I suppose I’ll just have to find something else to do to occupy myself,” he says, picking up an apple from the table before heading back outside. On the way by, he makes sure to pass as close as he can by you, just shy of brushing against you.
Why did that sound so very much like a threat?
                                                      _____
One of your favorite past times is gardening. 
While you have a rather large section on the island dedicated to plants grown for consuming, you have another area, attached to the house, that’s reserved for the more delicate plants. 
The plants here are what people generally think of when they think of witch’s herbs. Spindly, long vines that hang down from the ceiling and thread through your hair as you walk underneath them, screaming mandrakes that could kill you when fully grown, and prickly, pale, glowing flowers are just a few of the more interesting specimens that reside here. Each of them needs their own special attention, have their own special requirements, and this is where it’s all met.
The air inside is humid, walking into it is like walking into a sauna. Your clothes stick to you the instant that you enter, and you’re quick to shed anything nonessential. In addition to all of that, the room is very heavily magically charged, both due to the plants themselves as well as the magic you constantly sustained to keep the room acceptable to the conditions the plants needed to thrive.
Lucci had yet to be inside this room, and it was the one place you hoped he wouldn’t enter, largely because you didn’t think he would let you past him without teasing you endlessly. Plus the state of your clothes was just asking for trouble from him, and you couldn’t be sure that you had the willpower to resist him. 
It was like he was a magnet and, as much as you like to attribute it to the idea that you hadn’t been around anyone in years, you felt it was more than that. No one you had met before had such a strong presence, nor had anyone attracted you as much as he did.
On this particular day, though, it seemed your luck had run out. Previously, he had watched you disappear into the greenhouse with nothing more than a smirk, not even curiosity in his eyes as he headed out the front door. 
Today, it seemed, he was curious, or bored, and so when you hear the door open and close somewhere further down the room, you freeze, eyes scanning the dimly lit rows for a sign of the intruder. But you can’t see anyone, and suddenly it feels less like an intrusion and more like a hunt. Where had he gone?
You begin to creep in the opposite direction of the door, since that’s the closest way to the next aisle over. Keeping your ears peeled, you hear...nothing. In fact, you aren’t even sure he was ever actually in the room. Maybe he had simply opened the door, peeked in, and left again.
Your heart beat slows at last, as do your steps, and you look around one last time. Still nothing, so you make your way back to the previous plant you had been tending, losing yourself in it. Several minutes pass, and you’re fully absorbed in your work once more, when a whisper of sound catches your attention a half-second before strong, lithe hands slide over your sides, squeezing lightly before pulling you backwards.
You actually scream out loud, unable to hold it back in your surprise. Heat immediately floods your cheeks, and you fight against Lucci, though the only headway you make is in turning to face him. 
He looms over you, a wicked, amused grin on his face as you begin to smack his chest. 
At least he’s wearing a shirt, you think faintly as your hand finally lays still over his chest. It flexes underneath your palm as he laughs, sounding far too pleased with himself.
The heat of the room, the scare, and the proximity to him is too much for you, and your head begins to spin. You lean forward, resting your head on his chest and willing it to stop long enough for you to escape.
“Can’t handle me, _____?” he asks, a deadly whisper in your ear.
Your face flushes further, which doesn’t help your head any, and you begin to fear your legs might collapse. 
You’re unable to understand his fixation with you. Is he just so bored that he can’t help himself? Is this how he is in his everyday life? 
Considering how he acted when he first showed up, cold and intimidating and ready to fight you, you doubt it’s the latter. Then again, it could have just been nerves. You have no idea, not knowing anything about him other than his name.
And that you’re dangerously attracted to him. You open your eyes to look up at him, unable to really focus in your current state, but you catch the glint of his eyes in the dim light. They look almost feral, as if he’s enjoying what’s going on right now and would have no issues giving you anything you desire, if you only ask. 
And it was so tempting to take everything he had to offer you. 
“Lucci,” you murmur, your fists clenching in his shirt, just before your legs buckle.
He’s quick to catch you, hoisting you up in his arms with a satisfied chuckle, although it wasn’t completely. He enjoyed messing with you, because you’re so easy to rile up. But he’s also aware that the attraction isn’t one sided, though he’s faring better in his own than you are. 
You aren’t even aware of what you do to him whenever he catches you staring at him, your eyes widening as he approaches, the small steps back away from him until you can go no further. 
Not that you tried too hard to get away; the flicker of hope in your eyes told him that much.
The door creaks as it opens and a rush of cool air clears your head almost immediately. As soon as you begin to struggle, Lucci releases you, keeping an arm around your waist in case you stumble. But you don’t, and push away from him with a glare. 
“You’re an ass,” you hiss, weaving around the couch towards your bedroom. You aren’t sure if you’re really mad, or just extremely flustered that you had passed out in his arms, but you know that it’s because of him that it happened, and you aren’t going to let him get away with it. 
He laughs behind you, and you can just imagine the smirk he’s wearing. “I don’t recall doing anything but coming in to find you, _____. You’re the one that collapsed. What would you have done if I wasn’t there?”
Well first off, you wouldn’t have gotten flustered and overheated. 
But he’s finally slipped, even if he doesn’t realize it. You had recognized the bulge against your back when he had come up and pressed himself against you. His trick had done a good job of scaring you, but it had backfired on him. 
You’re sure he can play the game better than you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t play at all.
His eyes narrow, zeroing in on your hips as they sashay back and forth. He’s sure you were doing that on purpose, and wonders if you’ve finally caught on. The door shuts behind you without another word, but he swears he felt a shift in the air, like things are about to get interesting.
And you’ll be sure to lock that damn door behind you from now on.
                                                        _____
As it turns out, you don’t have to do a whole lot of anything to entice him further. A new sway to your hips and refusing to give him the time of day is doing wonders to his ego. More than once, he’s come in dripping sweat and wearing his shirt over his shoulder, but you had given him a once over and never looked at him again. 
After the first few times, he starts to grow annoyed, and considers the odds that you’ve lost interest. 
But he can still catch the flush of your cheeks and the sweat on the back of your neck.
When he ghosts his fingers across your back as he passes behind you, you barely suppress a shiver and arch away. And yet, you hardly glance his way. 
He doesn’t like being ignored.
That night, after he gets out of the shower, he decides to push you just a little further, to punish you for your childish antics.
The sound of Lucci’s bedroom door opening catches your attention, and you absentmindedly look up only to nearly choke as he steps out into the living room, sans a shirt and wearing a pair of sweats slung so low on his hips it’s a miracle they’re staying up.
God, had you realized having him around would be so hard on your nerves, you’d have sent him floating back out to sea.
Then again, as you watch him saunter closer, his sharp eyes locking with yours and his lips turning up in a knowing smirk, you probably wouldn’t have. And, being honest with yourself, a larger part of you than you’re willing to acknowledge likes it.
“Feel better?” you ask, and you wince at how brittle your voice sounds in your own ears. It’s a fight to turn away from him, and you keep taking glances from the corner of your eye, watching him approach. 
He knows you’re watching— it’s hard to miss the flicker of your eyes as you fight to focus on the dishes— and strolls up behind you, leaning down over your shoulder so his head is right next to yours. He watches your eyes widen and dart to him before back down to the dishes, and the way your mouth tightens at the corners just a little. There isn’t much more of a reaction than that though, at least not until he spoke directly into your ear, just barely above a whisper, “I do now.”
His fingers skim up your sides, tugging the edges up just enough to expose skin before letting it fall again, his hands planting on your hips. 
You freeze, closing your eyes and fighting the urge to tilt your head to the side and expose your neck to him. Your breathing deepens, the beat of your heart picking up furiously, but just like that, he moves away with a sadistic, satisfied chuckle.
There’s an almost crushing disappointment when he does, but you don’t say a word, just going back to your dishes as if you were completely unphased. That isn’t to say it isn’t difficult, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply he got under your skin.
Based on the way he continues to laugh though, it doesn’t work. 
It makes you feel better nonetheless.
                                                      _____
One night a few weeks later, you’ve curled up outside on the porch swing with a steaming cup of tea, mulling over the last few weeks. 
It’s hard to say for sure, but to you it felt like it might be warmer than the previous day. Of course, there’s just as much chance that it’s wishful thinking. Still you sit, a light blanket thrown over your legs as you watch bats and fireflies flutter in the shadows. It isn’t one of the more exciting ways to pass the time, but it is relaxing, which is something you desperately needed. 
More often than not, when Lucci was actually inside, the air around the house shifted. It may have just been reacting to you, because you’re sure anyone could tell you were attracted to him.
But you’re also afraid of him. He hasn’t done anything, besides displaying a freakish strength, and there have been no outward signs of...well, anything. It was the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. It was dark and predatory and it made your heart race just thinking about it. The aura around him-- it screamed danger, like you would be a fool to get too close.
And yet, you know you’re already trapped, in more ways than one.
Relief is tempered by disappointment that he spends so much time away. When he’s gone, you almost miss the palpable tension between the two of you, miss the way he would tease you to the point you needed to leave the room. But you don’t know if you could survive that tension all the time.
You’re startled out of your thoughts by the creak of the door opening, Lucci’s already immense shadow growing further in the light spilling out. He doesn’t say a word as he closes it behind him and takes the open seat next to you, immediately beginning a gentle swing. Not that he can help it, those long legs aren’t meant to be curled up underneath him. One leg is carefully crossed over the other, his arm coming to rest along the back of the swing, his fingertips just barely grazing the back of your neck as it passes.
The hairs there raise, followed by the ones on your arms, and you look up at him in wonder.
The smirk is there, that knowing look in his eyes as well, saying I know what I do to you. But you wonder if he’s doing it purely to tease you or if he could possibly want more. 
Thinking about it like that makes you nervous, because you aren’t sure if you want more. 
You aren’t stupid. He was leaving the first chance he got. You’re already more attached to him than you want to be, the overwhelming tension not doing you any favors whatsoever. You aren’t sure you want the lingering feelings you would have once he left.
“It’s cold out here,” he says, once more breaking you out of your thoughts. It’s a simple observation, but the way he says it makes it sound like it’s detrimental to your health. 
Somehow you don’t think it’s the problem here.
Doing your best to appear unconcerned, you shrug, throwing your head back as if to look up at the sky, but all you can see is the porch ceiling. “It’s not that bad. Besides, it’s a great place to think.”
He quirks one of his eyebrows at you, the corners of his lips curling up that little bit more as he asks, “About?”
You. Me. Us. You. 
Your face heats up at the thoughts and what could come of them if they slip from your lips. Instead, you shrug again, letting your eyes linger on his for a half-second before they find the darkness behind him. “How you got here. I never did ask, you know. Too busy saving your life and all. So what did happen?”
The smirk flickers and his eyes darken. For a second, you think he might get up and walk away, he looks so angry. But then his face smooths out and he says, “There was a storm. My boat was capsized, destroyed by the waves, I suppose. I don’t recall much after falling into the water. Luck seems to have put me on that piece of wood and carried me to your island.”
You hum, nodding. You had seen the storm clouds quite a ways in the distance that day almost black against the constant grey, but they never reached you, instead heading in the opposite direction.
“That is quite lucky,” you say, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. An awkward silence falls after that, punctuated only by the sound of fluttering wings and the occasional owl hoot. It morphs slowly from awkward to just silent, and that’s comfortable enough for you to drift back into your thoughts, but Lucci breaks it with a question of his own.
“How did you come to be on this island by yourself?” It’s the first time you can remember hearing anything in his voice other than ire or mischief, and it’s surprising the things it did to your stomach.
You grin fondly as you remember the long series of events that had led you here. “I was young, 18 and ready for adventure. I wanted to leave my island and go sailing, to get away from my greedy family, who tried to make me stay and marry into another wealthy family.” 
You could still remember the man they picked for you. At the time, he couldn’t have been more repugnant. Simpering and spineless is what you had assumed, bending to his family’s wishes without argument. Looking back on it years later, you had realized that you had simply been pushing off your own insecurities onto a stranger and that there had been nothing wrong with what he had done. Or his face.
As quick as a flash, Lucci’s image, a predatory smile on his face as he loomed over you, filled your head, and you shook it like a dog with water in its ears. 
Lucci wore the mirror image of your vision, like he could read your mind. You feel his fingers ghost over your shoulder for just a moment, then it’s gone and you wonder if you had imagined it.
“Anyway,” you continue, trying to put your mind back on track. It would do you no good to lose yourself in fantasies, especially not with the object of them right next to you. “Anyway, I didn’t want to, so one night I snuck out. Stole a boat and sailed off.”
At that, he laughed. It sounded derogatory, like he couldn’t picture you off on your own at that age. You frown and lightly punch his arm. He stops laughing almost immediately and pins you with a look somewhere between intrigued and daring you to do it again.
Instead, you turn your nose up to him and continue your story. He only laughs again.
“I was sailing for almost seven years when I stumbled upon this island. The log pose never pointed to it, but I was curious, so I stopped. The witch at the time, Mirabelle, greeted me. It seemed so strange, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.”
Lucci cuts you off then, asking, “Did you not hear stories about this island from other sailors? Even I heard about something similar. ‘Islands that appear and disappear at will, there one minute and gone the next’. Pirates were always spewing that nonsense. Most never mentioned a witch though.” He leans closer then, pushing a lock of hair from your cheek.
You shiver, locking eyes with him. He doesn’t move back, instead remaining close enough that you can feel his breath ghosting across your cheek. Neither of you move, each trying to wait the other out.
You break first, looking down at your lap and moving back as far as the swing would allow. Breathy and unsure, you carry on, now speaking to your legs. You would swear you hear him huff and, maybe it’s wishful thinking, but you would swear it’s in irritation. “Over the week, we shared stories of our childhood, and I told her about my adventures in the Grand Line. Maybe that was what did it, but on the last day she brought up giving her powers up to me. I had thought she wouldn’t actually want to, that she was just venting. But she brought out a contract and everything. Funnily enough, she left out quite a few of the more important details.”
Even after all these years, you still felt the sting every time you thought about how easily you had been tricked. This time, you’re sure you feel Lucci’s touch on the back of your neck, his fingertips or his knuckles dragging down your spine as if to comfort you. 
You ignore it, finishing your story. 
“Obviously, I signed it. As soon as I lifted the pen from the paper, she began to laugh, running out towards the shore. I chased after her, trying to stop her from climbing into my boat. I screamed after her, asking her why she was taking it. She turned and looked at me and I’ll never forget how she looked at me.” It was a cross between cold pity and sheer, unadulterated happiness. “‘You won’t need it,’ she said. I tried to follow her, right up until my feet couldn’t touch the bottom, but couldn’t go any further because the current was too strong.”
An arm curls around your shoulders, Lucci’s fingers digging into your shoulder as if that would comfort you, but he refrained from pulling you close, for which you’re grateful. You don’t want his pity. Don’t need it, either.
He’s silent as you stew. It had long since surpassed anger at her trickery, or even anger at your having fallen for it so easily. You had begun to understand shortly after the island returned to its plane what would have driven her to do something so underhanded. “I was upset at first, because she hadn’t told me the full story about what would happen, but honestly, it hasn’t been so bad.”
“Why didn’t you do what she did? It wouldn’t have been hard,” he answers, watching you carefully. All this time, he had thought you were here unwillingly, but the way you’re speaking, it no longer sounded like that was the case. 
“Honestly, I thought it would be lonely. And, don’t get me wrong, it is. But there’s no expectations here. I don’t have to defend myself from marauding pirates or Marines. I saw a lot of things I didn’t like in the world and, well…” Your head rolls back, resting on your shoulder to look at him.
In the depths of your eyes, he can see warmth tempered by sadness, happiness tempered by loneliness, and want tempered by wariness. 
“Anyway, no one washed up on shore for several years. The island shows up randomly, not always near civilization. I’ve gone a decade without seeing anyone, more than once. It was almost that long before I finally saw someone else, and when he explained that he was on his way back to his family after five years at sea, I realized I didn’t want to leave, or subject someone else to this. I may not always be happy, but I’m content.”
For the third time, silence falls. Punctuating it this time is the warm weight of his arm across your shoulders, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the sweater you’re wearing. Giving into the temptation, you lean over to rest your head on his shoulder. He had long since stopped wearing his suit jacket, leaving him in only his button down. You had thought his shoulder would be hard from the muscles, but relaxed as he is, it isn’t uncomfortable. 
His head snaps down to look at you, a ghost of a triumphant smile crossing his face, before his arm wraps tighter, forcing you to press fully against him. You go willingly enough, curling your knees up and allowing them to rest against his thighs. Your fingers grab onto his shirt, crumpling the fabric in your fist as your head tucks against his neck.
Suddenly, you realize just how cold it really is out, wrapped up in the warmth he exudes. A flicker of panic, your brain trying to warn you of the danger of being so close to Lucci, flares up, before it’s washed away by the stronger feeling of comfort it brings.
You’re in serious danger of falling asleep like that when he shifts, his free arm looping under your knees. Before he can get much further, you jerk up, pulling away from him.
You smile, hoping to hide your anxiety from him as you stand up on your own. “Ah, ah, I’m not that far gone,” you say, backing away from him. The further you get from him, the clearer you begin to think, and the more embarrassed you begin to feel for giving into him.
He watches you go with an almost unfathomable expression, his face a blank slate; even his usually sharp eyes are like stone. It makes you feel like you’ve done something wrong, like you should have allowed him to whisk you off your feet. But that was dangerous, especially when you already feel so vulnerable in his presence. 
You can only imagine what would happen if you allowed him to get so comfortable handling you like that.
“Goodnight, Lucci,” you say, turning and walking inside, leaving him alone on the porch. Every bone in your body screams at you to go back to him, but you force yourself to continue to your bedroom, shutting the door on your racing heart.
                                                       _____
It seemed like every time you took one step forward, something was thrown into your path and you were knocked three backs. This became obvious to you when you found out a rather big secret that Lucci was keeping.
It wasn’t so much the fact that he was hiding it, because it was his to tell, and more what the actual secret entailed. You very much doubted he meant for you to find out at all, let alone the way that you did.
On the night in question, you decided that you wanted to take a walk during the evening, and found yourself a meandering path through the woods to follow. It was one of hundreds, forged by the many animals that called the island home, but you can’t tell the difference between them. You can sense that both predators and prey used to use it regularly, but that lately it had remained empty, and that concerned you. 
There were very few animals that posed a threat to you, but they were there. Generally the animals left you alone, but even before now you had sensed something was riling them up. It had been hard to notice because there were more pressing matters to attend to at the time, but you would hazard a guess it had started when Lucci had washed up on shore. 
Though you couldn’t be sure because you hadn’t been paying much attention, it was also the only thing that had changed on the island in the last few years.
In any case, you had finally noticed the disruption in the flow of magic around the island, mainly that certain species of animals had become far more aggressive, starting to wander closer and closer to your home. It was unlikely that they would outright attack it, or that they could actually do any damage, but you couldn’t be sure what they would do if they were left unchecked.
You didn’t want to face whatever was causing the upset, just scope it out and determine if the solution would be more involved. Sometimes, the problem turned out to be as simple as an injury, though this time you got the feeling that it was deeper than that. 
Based on the way they lurked around and were attacking each other, you imagined something had upset the food chain. The animals and plants each had their own individual auras that you could sense, and the animals had been growing weaker, although so slowly it had been hard to tell it was happening at all. It had become enough of a concern now that you needed to step in and figure something out.
Continuing on as quietly as you can, you allow the many different waves to wash over you, trying to determine which animals are in your vicinity. You know there has to be one nearby, because there’s a complete and total silence around you that only a predator can bring about. Not even the sound of crickets chirping can be heard, no matter how hard you strain to hear.
What you find is a monstrous creature, and as you approach it, sweat beads up on the back of your neck. It’s dangerous to approach one under normal circumstances, but as they’re now riled up, it’s downright stupid. 
Taking the time to cast a small invisibility spell, you step out into the edge of a clearing, scoping out the massive mound of brown fur in the center. It isn’t a natural clearing, but rather the animal-- a bear, by the look of it-- has tamped down the foliage and torn down the trees to make room for its massive body. 
“Shit,” you whisper, raking your eyes over every inch of its body that you can see. It doesn’t seem to be in distress, no labored breathing or cries of pain, and there aren’t any injuries that you can see. So what can it be?
There’s a snort, then the mound-- indeed a bear-- climbs to its feet and rears up on its hind legs with a snarl loud enough to knock you to your knees. The ground rumbles as it lands again, jarring you further. For the first time, you’re really and truly afraid for your safety, and you scuttle backwards, towards the trees. Even if they can’t stop the beast, they’ll hopefully slow it down enough to allow you to get away. On your own, you had no hope of taking it on, let alone down, so your only option is to run.
You stand up on wobbly legs, only to stumble as the bear begins to charge. The clearing isn’t large at all; it would take only a moment for it to reach you, but you aren’t far from the edge. All you need is that second--
Another snarl, smaller but no less menacing, rings out through the air but you don’t turn to look until you’re in the safety of the trees. Hidden behind the trunk of a large tree, you poke your head out to find a leopard, almost half the size of the bear, with its teeth clamped into the scruff of the other animal. Its claws are raking viciously down its back, its head whipping from side to side, trying to tear chunks of flesh from its larger victim. 
A leopard, you think, watching in awe, there are no leopards here. 
Cheetahs and tigers, along with a range of smaller feline species like servals and ocelots, but no leopards. You almost fear for the leopard’s safety, given its far smaller stature, but it’s locked down tight on the other animal’s back, relinquishing its hold just long enough to latch on again and maintain its position.
The bear is writhing in pain, screaming as it swipes at the leopard with terrifyingly oversized paws tipped with wicked looking claws. At last, it fell, rolling onto its back and obscuring your view of the cat, and you’re sure it’s been squished. 
But then it appears, leaping lightly up onto the bear’s side, making a beeline for its prey’s exposed stomach. Before it can make it, though, the bear is up, roaring again as it stumbles towards the treeline in a clear retreat. 
The hairs rose on the back of your neck as you watch the leopard stand in victory in the middle of a puddle of blood, licking its lips like it wanted more. Then it turned to look at you, piercing you with a set of intelligent silver eyes.
Your heart slams into overdrive when you lock eyes with the cat in a moment of recognition. It licked its lips again, taking one silent step towards you, and you turn, booking it through the woods and back towards the safety of your home. 
Though you aren’t sure how safe you really are anymore, given that you had let an animal inside already.
What had been a twenty minute walk out there was reduced by half in your mad dash back, and you’re out of breath, holding your side against the raging stitch there when you reach the house. Doubling over on the porch, you wheeze out what turned out to be a laugh. You collapse to your knees, struggling to get a proper breath in between your hysterics and general lack of air. You freeze when the floorboards creak under you, jerking your head up to meet the silver eyes of your guest, the same eyes you had locked gazes with mere minutes before. 
“Lucci,” you whisper, acknowledging him with a hoarse voice. He’s notably devoid of any blood, but you’re beyond the ability to process what that means. Your lungs hurt and you don’t have the strength to run again as Lucci comes closer, kneeling down and cupping your chin, but you have managed to get your breathing under control.
“You ran,” he says, amusement evident in both his words and his eyes. They’re narrowed, and seem to hold confusion as well, though you can’t fathom why. “Were you scared?”
Well that was a stupid question. Of course you were. 
“My housemate, who is virtually a stranger, turned into a massive leopard without my knowing it could be done, then managed to fend off an even bigger bear all by himself.” You couldn’t even take on those behemoths. You aren’t sure if it was due to their size or the island’s magic or both, but they’re impervious to your attacks. The best you could hope for was to shore up your defenses enough to keep them at bay, although it generally isn’t a problem. “What else should I feel?”
“Gratitude, for one thing. That monster was going to kill you, and you know it. If I hadn’t stepped in, you wouldn’t be here,” he answers. His hands wrap around your upper arms, gently tugging you to your feet. You stumble on legs still trembling from adrenaline and exercise, with Lucci’s arms likely being the only thing keeping you on your feet. 
He has a point, you concede as you fall onto the porch swing. It’s chains creak faintly under your sudden weight, but it was in no danger of falling. Like everything else, it’s magically reinforced to remain in place. “I do appreciate it, Lucci,” you say, raking your fingers angrily through your hair. It wasn’t that you were angry at him, or upset at his secret. In fact, you can’t peg what it is that’s upsetting you. “I just...I don’t know. You’ve been here for months and I feel like I know nothing about you, but I’m just supposed to be okay with it. And then it turns out you can transform into an animal. I can’t even do that.”
Although you now at least knew what was upsetting the animals around you. They must have recognized that Lucci was different from them but, unable to discern how, marked him as another predator, and were now trying to figure out a new chain of command.
He knelt down in front of you, and even then still remains at eye level with you. His brows furrow, silver swirling with anger as he glares at you, telling you without words that he’s going to answer no questions, even if you do ask. 
You wrench your jaw from his hand, glaring at the wall as you bite your lip against the furious tirade brewing in your chest. Against your will, he turns your head to him again, his face now wiped of all emotions. His thumb grazes over the marks your teeth have left in your lip, eyes lingering just a moment too long before meeting yours. It isn’t going to be so easy to deter you from your anger though, and you open your mouth, teeth clacking as you snap at him.
He chuckles, a low, dangerous sound that sends shivers down your spine. 
“And I’m the animal?” he asks, his fingers tightening on your chin, just enough to remind you he’s far stronger than you could ever hope to be. “I have the powers of a Devil Fruit. The Cat Cat Fruit, Leopard Model,” he says, relinquishing his grip to stand. 
You thought he was going to leave, leaving you with a dozen new questions, but to your surprise he sits beside you on the swing. You sit up straight, relaxing into the back of the swing and are met once again with the feeling of fingers ghosting across your neck, followed by the warmth of his arm.
You would be a liar if you said finding out he had strange powers didn’t sting a little, but you would be a fool to say you hadn’t known. Of course this man had secrets, he practically oozed secrecy, nevermind that he divulged very little about himself, other than that he worked for the World Government prior to washing ashore on your island. Beyond that, you know nothing about his hobbies, likes or dislikes, or even his favorite color.
Then again, you decide, maybe there wasn’t much more to him than that. Like the poor villagers from your home island, maybe he was all work and no play.
Pushing that aside to work through later, you pull your legs up underneath you. The sweat had cooled on your body, and you were feeling the chill as the sky grew pink. 
Quick as a flash, Lucci has a blanket in his hand.
“How did you--? That wasn’t--” 
You take the blanket from him, staring at it in confusion. That had been inside. Your heart begins to race in your chest again as you look up from it to him. He’s staring at you with a knowing smirk, waiting for your reaction. 
“Is that another power from your Devil Fruit?” you ask, hoping you don’t sound as nervous as you feel. That was two in a day, and you wonder what else he can do.
“No, I learned that from training for the World Government. I can move so fast I seem to disappear. Did you like it?” he asks with a sneer. He knows he’s playing with fire, revealing so much to you in one go, but he’s curious to see just how far he could push you before you cracked.
It’s easy to recognize the game, it’s one of his favorites, and you aren’t about to fall apart and let him win. 
“I don’t know if I like it, but it’s certainly interesting.” That sounds weak, even to you, but what else could you say? It’s unlikely that he would answer any questions, even if you knew what to ask, and it’s just as unlikely that you would understand the answer. “About this Devil Fruit, though, can you only turn into a cat?” 
Devil Fruits you understood. There was a tree that grew on your home island that produced one. They called it the Whistle Whistle Fruit. It gave a person the power to whistle whatever they wanted at any decibel. You thought it sounded a bit stupid, but the wielder could do some serious damage if they practiced enough. 
He shook his head and stood, making his way out into the grass. You watch curiously as Hattori takes off, coming to settle on the back of the swing beside your shoulder. 
The hairs raise all over your body, your breath coming out in a rush as Lucci shifts before your eyes, growing taller and sprouting spotted yellow fur all over his body. Just as you expect him to fall down onto all fours, it all seems to stop, and he remained up on his hind legs. Somehow, his clothing remained in one piece, stretched taut over the massive barrel chest he now possessed, as well as the increased muscle mass over the rest of his body. 
Your vision begins to spot, darkness closing in at the edges. You curl your hands into fists, digging your nails in as hard as you can to anchor yourself to the pain. You can hear your pulse thrumming in your ears, seconded by a strange, tinny whistling you couldn’t remember hearing before. As quickly as it came on, it passes, leaving your head spinning and your temples throbbing. 
Realizing you’ve stopped breathing, you gasp, taking short, heaving breaths in order to clear the lingering tension.
Lucci stands out in the yard still, tail flicking as he watches you struggle to come to terms with the odd sight. He was sure you were going to pass out, watching the sweat bead and fall from your hairline, rolling down and following the curve of your jaw until it fell to your shirt. 
But you impress him, managing to force it down until you could breathe freely again. 
Even more to his surprise, you stand, making your way down the stairs towards him. He refrains from moving, even though he desperately wants to see how badly it would frighten you. 
Moreso, he’s curious to know what you’re going to do. He is in no fear that you would try to hurt him; even if you did, there was nothing you could do that would harm him, and you would be a fool to try.
Your skin is still drained of all color as you watch him, like a deer might watch a wolf it thinks is sleeping but can’t be sure. Your steps are light, careful, ready to flee at a moments notice, and he can hear your pulse pounding away, see the telltale flickering in your neck. With his heightened sense of smell, he can also tell that that fear is mixed deliciously with a heady desire.
Unconsciously, he licks his lips, his pupils narrowing as you come to stand in front of him.
You don’t miss the flick of his tongue, already zeroed in on his every move, even though the more primal part of you knows you couldn’t get away even if you tried. It wouldn’t stop you, though, your fight-or-flight already on high alert. One wrong move, and you would run without thinking, more than likely causing him to chase on instinct. It would become a hunt, and you weren’t sure what the outcome would be.
A shiver shoots up your spine, and you can’t deny that the idea of a more desirable outcome, one ending with you pinned underneath him and entirely at his mercy, is a prominent reason.
Very slowly, you reach out, running just the tips of your fingers down the fur on his muscular arm. It’s smooth and fine, not quite soft but not coarse like you had imagined, and thick enough to delve your fingers into, but not enough to grab a handful. When they meet one of the many spots that littered his fur, you find that it’s thicker than the gold hairs, more coarse, but still not unpleasant to touch. 
You frown, running your fingers up and down over the rosette, watching the thick fur fold down and spring back up only for you to push it down again. “The spots feel different.”
It isn’t a question, but Lucci shrugs anyway. The smirk has long since faded, and he’s instead enveloped in watching you examine him. It’s a surreal experience to have someone essentially petting him. 
There had never been anyone that he showed this form to that he hadn’t wanted to intimidate or just flat out murder, and so no one had ever been close enough to him to touch him.
The motion startles you from your fixed attention, and you look up, craning your neck back as far as you can in order to see his face. Lucci was tall to begin with, but in this form he had to be at least 12 feet. 
In comparison to the rest of his body, his legs are downright scrawny and, in another situation, you might have laughed. 
But right now, you feel like you’re standing on a fragile precipice, one that could break at the slightest provocation and send you tumbling down to the gods knew what end. It was the last thing you had ever imagined being shown, especially from someone as secretive as Lucci, but he had seemed so willing to show you, and it would be rude to laugh.
Besides, you were already past it, your eyes roaming over his massive chest and up to his face, roving over a face strangely made up of both human and animal features.
Neither of you say anything for a long moment, your heart still thrumming away far too fast in your chest, Lucci simply waiting for your reaction. Some part of him he doesn’t want to acknowledge hopes you wouldn’t run. The animalistic part he’s more prone to listening to hopes you do, but not for the normal reasons.
He knew, as did you, that if you were to run, he would hunt you down, making a game of it for as long as he felt like it. When he pounced, he would claim you, over and over again until he likely would have to carry you home in his arms.
You reach up again as high as you can, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. He allows you to pull him down, following until he’s kneeling before you. Even at this height, he still towers over you, and you have to lift your arms up above your head to reach his face. As carefully as you had his arm, if not moreso, you trail your fingers through the fur from his forehead to his jaw, finding it soft and downy and pleasant to touch. You’re overcome with the urge to rub your face against it to determine just how soft it was.
Tugging on the piece of shirt you still hold in your fist, you pull him the rest of the way down. 
He resists at first, before relaxing in small increments until his face hovers above yours. It doesn’t cross your mind that the position might be uncomfortable for him, and he doesn’t offer a complaint. You register vaguely how his breathing has deepened, his eyes narrowing to half as your nose brushes over his gently. It isn’t wet, but dry and warm. You move on quickly, pressing your cheek to his and allowing the fur to graze your skin. It was just as soft as it had felt against your hands, if not softer.
Your hands slide up, over his shoulders and threading into his hair, relishing how soft the thick, black curls are as well. He doesn’t smell like you thought he would, wearing the same foresty scent of pine and rainwater that he always had. Of their own accord, your arms wrap around his neck, allowing you to press closer to his thick chest.
His hands curl around your sides, almost meeting before lifting you up to stand on your tiptoes, supporting most of that weight with his own strength and clutching you even closer.
“Do you know how dangerous this is?” he asks, squeezing just enough that you can feel his claws press into your skin through your shirt. 
His voice is right in your ear, feral with lust he makes no attempt to hide. 
It had taken every bit of his willpower not to take you prior to this, but the last thread is stretched to the breaking point. One move, one word from you, and he would claim you.
Your breathing hitches, your back arching up into him, and you curl your nails into his neck as heat flares from your toes up to your face. For one short instant, you really believe he might eat you alive, but then it’s gone, replaced by the distinct need to feel him against every inch of you.
“Lucci,” you moan, so quiet it’s almost a whisper, but his ears flick up in surprise. Fingers tipped with razor sharp claws wind through your hair, so careful not to nick your skin or shave your hair that you hardly realize he’s done it until he’s tugging your head back, exposing your neck to his sandpaper tongue. 
It rasps over your pulsepoint, and he feels you tremble in his arms, torn between fear and arousal. Your eyes flutter closed, so you feel rather than see his transformation, and then very human lips latch onto your neck, teeth nipping hard enough to sting before soothing it with his tongue. 
You can rapidly feel your body giving up control to him, unable to do anything but gasp and roll your hips. Your chest brushes against his, your nipples hardening at the light contact.
His lips trail up the column of your throat to your ear, nipping gently before asking, “Is this what you want?”
Afraid your voice won’t work, you nod, eyes opening to look up at him. Instead of returning to you, he shook his head, giving you a teasing look.
“I’m going to need a better answer,” he says, the hand not locked in your hair slipping up underneath your shirt and skimming up your back. Desperate frustration fills you, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Lucci, yes, please!”
“Good girl,” he whispers. He’s still on his knees, his human height much more manageable, and he leans away from you enough that he could slide his hand up your front. 
A warm, calloused palm splays out across your stomach, pressing gently before it began a slow journey up your ribs. His lips brush yours briefly, not enough to call it a kiss, but it elicited a response all the same. Your lips part, head tilting up to follow him, begging him without words to come back and kiss you properly. 
Instead he smirks, and you realize he had been hoping to distract you as his hand finally cups the heavy weight of your tit in his palm.
Against the tender skin of your breast, his hand feels like sandpaper, but he’s so gentle as he rolls your nipple in his fingers that it feels exquisite. Warmth surges in your stomach, settling down at the juncture of your legs. You shiver as your back arches, seeking more.
His teeth meet your ear again before he lifts you up with one arm, still fondling your breast, like your weight means nothing. You can’t find it in yourself to care, instead allowing your fingers to thread through his hair down to his shoulders as his lips claim yours at last, his tongue immediately delving past your already parted lips and claiming your mouth entirely. 
He tastes of lingering blood and you shudder at the reminder. Your nails graze his neck on their way to the buttons of his shirt. By feel alone, you pluck them open, revealing delicious olive toned skin inch by inch.
You’re jarred a little as he sits down, and when you open your eyes you find yourself in the living room, settled in his lap on the couch. 
He had removed his hand from under your shirt in order to open the front door, and it now found its way back to the hem, pulling it up and over your head. 
His eyes rake from your waist up to your face; his eyes meet yours just long enough for him to flash a wicked grin at you before dropping back down to your heaving chest. You lean back, gripping his knees in each hand and tossing your hair over your shoulder, putting yourself on display for him. 
He likes that, watching you give yourself up willingly to him. It somehow satisfies the more primal part of him that craves seeing you submit to him in every way, but the look in your eyes says you know exactly what you’re doing. 
You’re willing to play his game, if he’s willing to follow the rules.
His fingers wrap in your hair again, his other hand gripping your hip, forcing you to roll down and grind against the bulge in his slacks. Like everything else on him, it was big, and you wanted to see it. 
“Patience,” he says, grabbing your hand as it reaches for the button of his pants. He guides you by the hair, forcing your back to bow more so he could wrap soft lips around the nipple of your untouched breast.
You have to clench your hands into fists to keep from reaching up and pulling him closer. You understand that he wants to take it slow, and it does sound appealing, but a part of you also just wants him to fuck you right then and there. It makes it all the more exciting, though, to hold back and let him lead.
His tongue laps languidly at your breast as you grind against him, eyes half closed as he takes his time. He relishes the faint gasps and whines filling the room as he moves to the other one, feeling his cock throb the longer he draws it out. When you begin to squirm, begging him to stop, he pulls away, pressing one last kiss to your raw, hard bud, and releases your hair. “Those shorts need to go.”
You grip the back of the couch and stand as if you were stretching, pushing your breasts against his chest. As you finger the button of your shorts, he pulls his cock out, giving it a few slow pumps as he takes in the view. You undo it and the fly, hooking your fingers in the waist before pushing them down, allowing them to slide down your legs to your knees, revealing your lack of underwear. They bunch at your knees, and you push them the rest of the way down, bending over far more than necessary, so your face comes dangerously close to his leaking erection. 
It’s as big as you had imagined, surely bigger than anything you’ve taken before, and you kneel down between his knees, taking it into your hands, Lucci’s breath hitching at the soft touch. Your fingers don’t even meet on the other side, and you can feel a new flood of warmth down your thighs at the realization.
Above you, Lucci smirks, able to smell your arousal peak. He watches you without saying a word as you begin to stroke him, poking your tongue out to lap at the pre leaking from the tip. Your mouth engulfs him a moment later, tongue swirling around his head and slit. It’s all you can take, and he groans at the feel of your mouth tight around him, imagining what your dripping cunt will feel like. His fingers grip your hair, pulling you gently off him and up to your feet. 
He relishes the look of confusion and flash of fear, afraid you’ve done something wrong.
He pulls you forward, coaxing you to straddle him as you had before, his cock nestling between your dripping folds. You moan, rocking your hips, covering it in your slick. The friction along your already sensitive clit is driving you dangerously close to the edge, and Lucci lets you continue for only a few moments before he stills you.
“This is your last chance, beauty, to change your mind,” he says, even as his thumb finds your clit and presses hard. 
It’s an unexpected roughness, and your hips jerk in response, your pussy spasming around nothing in pleasure. Even had you entertained the notion of stopping before, it would have been swept away in a rush. His eyes are liquid warmth, watching you with an amused smile as you shake your head enthusiastically.
“Lucci, please,” you moan, seeking more of the friction from his thumb. He acquiesces, rubbing softer circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves, gathering the moisture your body produced up. Your body is torn, not wanting to give up the feeling of his finger but craving him inside you.
“I need more than that, _____.” The deep, throaty way he says your name causes you to gasp. One long finger dips down to toy at your entrance. He has no intentions of slipping it inside you, but he’s more than willing to tease you.
It does the trick, your body instantly clenching in anticipation. “I want you inside me now.” 
You’re whining and you know it, but you also don’t care, willing to do whatever it takes to get what you want.
Lucci gives you a dark, hungry look, and wraps his hand around his length. “Sit up,” he says, and his words are laced with so much commanding lust that you don’t even think to argue, instead sitting up on your knees and allowing his head to lodge in your dripping hole. Before you can sink down, he grabs under your thighs, keeping you positioned above him. You whine in frustration, tipping your head. He’s almost where you want him, nestled so deep inside your aching cunt you won’t be able to walk straight when he was through.
You whine as his thick tip splits you open, already stretching you to your limit. Inch by agonizing inch, he lowers you, fucking up into you little by little until he’s sure you can take him further. In your heady daze, you hadn’t considered how much it could hurt, taking something so big, especially since he was sure it had been ages since you had been with anyone. Fortunately, Lucci is in full control and aware, willing to restrain himself for your sake. Though he is a self-admitted sadist, that doesn’t extend to this, and he’s by no means a selfish lover. He doesn’t want to hurt you. 
At least, not unless you ask.
After several long, agonizing minutes, your hips settle down against his, little sparks of pleasure surging from your clit, trapped between your body and his. Your body trembles in his arms, your cunt spasming helplessly around his throbbing length, the only thing keeping you still being his arms locked around you. You’re cradled to his chest, his lips littering your neck with kisses, struggling against the desire to fuck up into the tight heat around his cock. 
“You’re so tight, beauty. You took me so well,” he whispers, licking the shell of your ear.
You’re almost sobbing against his shoulder, nonsensical babbling and begging spilling from your lips, rocking your hips just as much as his arms will allow.
Finally, once you’ve relaxed, he loosens his arms, allowing you free. Instead of the desperate bouncing he expected, you throw your head back, bracing yourself on his knees as you began to roll your hips, taking his cock inside you in deep, slow thrusts over and over. He’s mesmerized, watching the bounce of your breasts, his hands mindlessly gliding up to cup them before running back down your ribs. He can feel the way you twitch underneath his hands, like it tickles, but he’s already past it, one hand on your hip and the other moving down to cup your mound. The feel of his thumb against your clit startles you, your hips stuttering from their rhythm for a moment before they pick up again, faster now as you also sought the pleasure his fingers brought.
You begin to mewl his name, more nonsensical begging falling from your lips in between each call, until your pussy starts to flutter around him. 
His arm slides around, pulling you up and into his chest, his lips seeking out yours. His tongue slides past your parted lips, swirling around yours and swallowing your cries as you cling to him. Your nails leave jagged red lines across his shoulders as the bouncing of your hips become desperate and out of sync, and Lucci takes over, guiding you back into rhythm. The pounding of your hips and the frantic friction on your clit melds together and with one last cry you collapse into his arms. He eases you through your orgasm with gentle rocks of his hips, punctuated by little moans and gasps as you come down.
His hands caress down your thighs and back up, cupping your ass and forcing your hips to move. You shudder and whine, rolling your hips down to engulf his cock in your heat again and again, allowing him to use you to chase his own release. In your ear he whispers colorful praise, growling how good you feel around him, how much he enjoys feeling you squeeze tight around him. 
Your mind is slowly going blank from overstimulation, but you grip his shoulders, digging your nails in and dragging them up and down his back. He tenses when your teeth meet his collarbone, but it quickly passes as you move up his throat.
“Lucci,” you moaned, pressing your lips just underneath his ear. “Oh god, Lucci, you feel so good. I can’t--” You gasp when he rolls his hips up sharply, pressing deep inside you and pinching your clit in the process. 
Your whispered, thankful praise and your pussy clenching around him are his undoing and he stills inside you, his hips jerking several times before he relaxes against the back of the couch.
Your arms wind around his neck and you hide your face in his hair, placing lazy kisses along his throat and shoulder before settling your head there. It’s quiet and still, neither of you wanting to break the peace.
Lucci’s hands wander absentmindedly up and down your back, enjoying the way your breath is still uneven, your body still trembling from exertion. You had looked exquisite as you took him, and already his body is stirring at the thought of taking you again, seeing that wild pleasure on your face again. But for now, he lets you rest against him, comfortable with you in his arms. Right now, he could forget that he was a wanted criminal, a murderer, and that, no matter how much he might possibly, maybe want to stay, he’s already cast his lot with another.
Your breathing deepens and evens out, the steady rise and fall of your back lulling him as well, and, more gently than he could ever remember being, he moves you to lay on the couch, grabbing the blanket off the back and joining you a moment later.
He smiles-- an actual smile-- when you curl right up in his arms, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and go back to sleep. 
Unfortunately, he doesn’t join you for a very long time.
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greywarde · 3 years
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hm hmm not sure how i feel about the start of this royalty au i found languishing on my google drive though i do like the allusions to canon 
-
The king’s brother is a traitor.
Everyone knows it though no one is brave enough to say it out loud. Sirius Black, disinherited older brother of the king, has never given one bloody damn about his country. Yet he’s chained to court in a way that Regulus is not, never allowed to leave the watchful eyes of the royal guard. His blood irrevocably binds him to the Most Ancient Domain of Black. In the hands of an enemy, whether as a general or progenitor, it could threaten the entire domain. 
Of course, the mere fact of his existence isn’t where it started. No, when he had been but a young man, bards the kingdom over had sung great praises of his magical talent, which he had in spades, his sharp intellect, and his handsome looks. Which he also had in abundance.
Sitting here at the low table, Remus is sharply reminded of that fact. Sirius is sitting right across from him, trading japes with the other common people of the court. Except for Sirius, they are all lowborn. Most are people kept here or called here by their skill, like Remus. 
They are sitting at the very end of the table. The seat next to Remus is empty, most of the court not wanting to sit next to a werewolf. Sirius had not seemed to care, only greeting him with a “Heya, mate,” before ribbing Marlene next to him about the knights’ training. 
Sirius is about his age, on the verge of his third decade, though unlike Remus, there is no grey in his hair and his face is completely unlined. Even though his black tunic is simple, it is of a fine weave with silver thread round the collar while Remus’s clothing is made of rough rust-colored wool. 
Remus watches Marlene and Sirius out of the corner of his eye. Though it is odd that a man of Sirius’s age is unmarried, it is not so strange when one remembers that any child of his would be a weapon against the throne, against Regulus’s young line. After all, Sirius is no ordinary man. Even then, it is rather odd that there have never been any whispers about Sirius tumbling a servant girl or a lowborn noble lady. Perhaps he keeps his affairs to those who do not have loose tongues, though Marlene is certainly not one of them.
“So what’s our resident astrologer up to?” a loud laugh sounds and Remus blinks, jolted out of his thoughts. Sirius is across from him, grinning as his sharp grey eyes appraise Remus. “Are the stars looking auspicious?”
“Quite,” Remus says quickly. “Venus will be in its third house on Monday. Your brother’s invasion will proceed then.”
Sirius laughs again but there is an angry edge to it now, making it nearly sound like a bark. “You ever consider making up some shite and telling him that Mars or whoever won’t much fancy him doing any more invading?” 
Remus has, in fact, but making it so obvious would certainly result in his death. No, all he can do is send a coded letter tucked in among a shipment of grain or a raven in the dead of night and give the people a little time to escape. “Never. If I did that, I would be killed. As you well know, I think.”
Sirius’s wide grin fades to only a slight upturn of the corners of his lips, which is somehow more unnerving than him laughing at Remus in front of the entire court. “Smart of you, Lupin.” 
Thankfully, Marlene draws Sirius into another conversation just then. Marlene McKinnon, savior of nobles in distress and Remus Lupin, enemy spy. 
-
As the sun sets, gilding the stone stairs gold through the arrow-slits of windows, Remus ascends the tower. It’s the highest point of the castle though not the grandest; that one is of course reserved for the king. 
The arched ceiling of the observatory is high enough and decorated such that it seems like the stone roof has been torn out and the entire night sky has crashed down upon Remus, complete with thin silvery lines sketching out the constellations. It echoes the actual position of the stars, slowly moving with the earth’s motions. Orion is right over his head. 
Remus steps over to the golden astrolabe floating just over the table, squinting down at the measurements. Nothing significant has changed from yesterday, nothing he can construe into some sort of portent. There is a flutter of feathers and he turns to see a raven, an inky silhouette against the scarlet of the sky. It is holding a scrap of parchment in its beak. 
“May I?” Remus asks, withdrawing a piece of bread from his pocket and offering it to the raven. It squawks, dropping the parchment on the windowsill, snatches the bread right out of his hand, and swoops away. As he watches it disappear into the distance, a shadow against the purpling sky, he rather wishes he could do the same. There’s no time for that now though, not anymore. He’s got work to do. 
As he sets to work decoding the runes on the parchment, the true words resolving into blue flames in front of him with his magic, footsteps echo up the stairs. Before he can clear the spellwork, the king’s brother enters the room. 
“What’s this?” Sirius says eagerly even as Remus scrambles to wipe the air free of the runework. “Two traitors in one room.” 
“You’re not supposed to be here—I need utmost privacy in my work,” Remus attempts. His heart is beating so fast it is about to burst out of his chest. If it had been another servant, one of the ones that frequented this side of the castle, he might have been able to persuade them into staying quiet, bribe them with a promise of safety for their family or gold from across the sea. If it had been anyone but Sirius. 
“Your spying, you mean,” Sirius laughs. “Come off it, Lupin.” 
“I’m not--” Remus protests again. His death is staring him in the face, in the form of a handsome disgraced nobleman. At least it’s not a bad last sight to have, certainly better than staring a hundred swords in the face or having his soul sucked out by one of Riddle’s Dementors. 
Sirius frowns, and yes, there it is, the start of his undoing. Remus wonders if his next step will be to call for a guard, and then, if it will be possible to get a spell off on Sirius or slip out the window. Perhaps if he catches Sirius by surprise, but the man is still looking at him, sharp grey eyes fixed on him. 
Then he speaks, the last words Remus ever expected to hear. “Come and have a drink with me.” 
-
“Lupin, there you are,” Sirius raises over breakfast--or rather, what should be an early lunch. Remus had thought by coming to the meal hall late, trading the best pick of food for caution, he would be able to avoid Sirius’s prying. He had thought. 
“Here I am,” Remus murmurs, poking at his porridge. 
“Well, fancy joining me on a hunting trip?” Sirius grins. 
“A werewolf hunting trip?” Remus says dryly. Either that’ll actually be the case or he’ll get a laugh out of Sirius, at the very least. But Sirius frowns. 
“You must know that I’m not interested in that shite.”
“Then what are you interested in?” 
Sirius shrugs, glancing away at a servant clearing up on the other end of the table. His jaw is tense. 
“Look, never mind, I’ll just…” 
What he’ll do, Remus has no idea, because his mouth opens of its own accord. “No, I’ll come.” 
“You will?” Sirius’s gaze is back on him in an instant, a smile reappearing on his face. It fills Remus with an odd warmth, nearly a shade off embarrassment. Perhaps he shouldn’t have come to breakfast so late. 
“I will,” Remus smiles back even as his heart pounds in his chest, as if Sirius has discovered him at his spywork again, and then turns his gaze back down to his porridge. At least that is much easier to decipher.
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the-ipre · 5 years
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Here’s a dark AU: The Hunger has been getting better at sending more realistic spies. It’s latest and proudest creation, a perfect illusion of a little boy named Angus McDonald
- The Hunger looks through all of the planes it contains, and it pulls together bits and pieces from each to make a perfect spy. A child, innocent enough to be trusted. A detective, clever and someone with a reason to be poking around. Alone, with no connections and no one to care for him, to garner pity. He is human, and he is real, and he will be their perfect spy. They make dozens and drop them into dozens of planes, trying to find the one that has the Light of Creation so that they may continue their advancement among the interplanar systems. Each is Angus McDonald, and each has a copy of Caleb Cleveland and the Cursed Cloud, and each knows that he is supposed to investigate for the Light.
- The Hunger’s illusion was almost perfect, and that almost perfection made Angus McDonald almost believe that he really was a little boy. He knew that he wasn’t because he was a scout for the Hunger, he was looking for the Light, and he was made to be a detective, but he also had memories of a grandpa. He didn’t remember that grandpa, he didn’t even know if there was a name to go along with the gray hair and crows feet, but he was a little boy, and little boys had grandfathers. He was alone, and while the Hunger never intended for their plans to go this way he was also lonely. He was only so little, after all, and it is a great wide world for a boy on his own, especially one who had been made to work alone. Although he had a job, and he knew he had a job, and he was good at his job, a small secret part of him wanted silly things like companionship and to be cared for. He boxed that up, because real detectives didn’t need help, and they didn’t need to be tucked into bed at night, and they didn’t cry and they certainly wouldn’t need anyone to hold them if they did.
- When our Angus touched down on Faerun, he didn’t know where to start looking for this powerful light, but he was a smart detective, and so he began looking for clues. He started asking around, and he found that people had gaps in their memories, and that didn’t seem like something this Light could do, but it felt important, so he followed the lead. He was good at following things that felt important, after all, and he was made to detect. This meant that he took on odd jobs that weren’t solely about the Light, because it looked like he would be in this for the long haul and buying things like food and shelter were important, no matter how illusory he was. He ends up taking a job to look for the Rockport Slayer, and even though he knows that it’s not what he’s supposed to be doing he has also been alone for almost three years now, and while he is still looking for the Light a smaller, hidden part of him wants to try to make a home.
- Angus meets three goofs who speak in static sometimes, and that ties back in to people with gaps in their memories, and he knew that things would be connected! Now, he just has to figure out how that fits in with the Light, but he’s sure that he can do it. He’s the best detective on the planet, after all. When the Oculus is discovered he is there, and it’s like a clue was delivered right into his lap. He can feel that draw, and it isn’t as strong as he was told that it would be but that has to be the Light. He bounces up and down in happiness because he did it! He’s found the Light, and he will just have to solve the mystery around it, and then his purpose will be fulfilled, and then...well, he isn’t quite sure what will happen after that. Even though he wants to investigate into that, he has bigger things to deal with, and. Well, isn’t it better to not think about what would happen to a little illusory boy who finished his mission?
- Being the world’s best detective, he manages to find people who dropped down to the planet in a cannonball, and when they went to leave again he persuaded them to let him ride back up to the second moon with them. He tells Madam Director that he would like to know what was going on, please, and no horseshit because he did manage to get up to their secret base. (In the background, Carey and Killian are internally screaming because they had just gone off moon for a date night, a fun time going to stores that weren’t the Fantasy Costco or Fantasy Olive Garden, and now they had brought back a kid who was trying to almost threaten Madam Director, and this was not how they had wanted their night to go but c’est la vie.) He gets a place to stay, and starts investigating the process of how the relics are disposed of – or, to be more accurate, not disposed of. Those pieces of the Light are going somewhere, and his job is to figure out where that somewhere is. He also notices that Madam Director’s staff seems to be growing stronger, and there is almost a draw to it, and he starts to put the pieces together but the longer he stays on the moon base, the longer he wants his investigation to take.
- See, for the first time in his short life, he had a little home. There were people who cared about him, and there were people who tolerated him but still said hello when he greeted them, and he even managed to get one of them to teach him magic! He knew one or two spells that were necessary to his job, but the fact that someone was willing to teach him, was willing to actually spend time with him that they didn’t have to, well that was better than any first level spell. He makes macarons, and that was never something that he was supposed to do, he was a spy and a detective and he had one job, but he made cookies! And they...well, they weren’t great, and they got kind of blown up, but he still made them! He was a little boy, and even though he was an illusion and on a secret mission, he was learning how to be a kid along with it all. Sure, there were some not-so-great things that came with that, like keep-away or people treating you like a baby, but as he stayed on the moon base, he started to feel less like a detective and more like a person. 
- The Hunger locks onto Faerun once our Angus makes it to the Bureau, because he discovered the Light. It wasn’t completed yet, though, so their attack did not begin, but they knew where to look, and they could feel when it would be done. As time went by Angus started to wonder if he didn’t want to tell them that the Light was getting more and more complete, but by the time he started to wonder that he had no say in the matter anymore. Things had been set in motion, and the illusory spy was just a little boy, still fake, but simply without a purpose anymore. He found his own purpose, in magic and cookies and companions, but they still felt shallow, and he grew more hollow with every day he tried to ignore his mission. He had been made for it, after all, and it was not so easy to turn away from your job when you had been made with one thing in mind.
- When the Hunger descended, Angus was afraid. This was not unusual, he was afraid of a great many things – after all, he was only a little boy, fake as his origins may have been, and the world is very large to someone so small – but for the first time he had so much to lose. In the chamber where the birds regained their memories, he wrapped his arms around his torso and shook, because this was the end, wasn’t it? He was a spy, and this was all because of him, and the world was ending because he had been so good at his job. The adults were arguing over what was going on, fighting about the memories and people lost, and he couldn’t stand silently anymore. “This is my fault!” He said, and heads turned towards him but he couldn’t make eye contact with any of them. 
- “Uh, come again, Agnes?” Taako’s umbrella was still pointed at Lucretia, and Angus’ grip tightened around his chest. 
- “The Hunger found us because of me. I’m the- it’s- I’m-” He was shaking, and he couldn’t figure out how to word what he was saying because this was all his fault, and he was going to get cast out, and he would be alone again and the world would be destroyed and he would have fulfilled his mission but he didn’t quite want that to happen, not anymore. 
- Magnus walks over and crouches down, putting a hand on Angus’ shoulder. “Hey buddy, uh, take your time, but also, come again?”
- It came spilling out in fits and starts, that he was a spy, and that he had found the Light because he was a good detective, and that he wasn’t really a little boy, he was just made to think that he was, and that he was so sorry, and please don’t make him leave, please, he didn’t want to be alone, and he was so sorry that this was happening but he was just doing what he thought he was supposed to-
- The adults looked around at each other, not sure what to make of it, caught between a crying illusion and the apocalypse happening right outside their windows, and then Magnus spoke, cutting off the spiral of words coming from Angus’ mouth. “Hey, we’ve all done shit that we regret, and that hurt other people.” His gaze glanced to where Lucretia still stood, channeling her shield. “It just matters that we try to make things right, and that we try to do good. Are you Angus McDonald?” Angus gave a shuddery nod. “You’re learning to cook, and you like reading Caleb Cleveland books or whatever, and Taako’s teaching you magic?” He let out a quiet yeah, not sure of where this was going. “Well, you still sound like a little boy to me. And, I don’t know about the others, but I don’t plan on throwing you out.”
- “Hey, Ango, wanna help stop the apocalypse?” Taako said, and Lucretia tried to protest that he’s just a child-, but Taako barreled forwards. “I was teaching you fireball, and now seems like the right time to use it. If you want to fight, that is, and I’m not saying no pressure but I will remind you that apparently Johnny Voreman out there found us thanks to you.” Taako, Barry said, exasperated, before the elf continued. “Kidding. Mostly. Still, though, the offer stands.” He held up a spare wand, and it was mostly just a gesture because Angus did have a wand on the lanyard around his neck, but he nodded anyway, and Taako tossed him the wand. “Well then, let’s kick some extraplanar asses!”
- They fight, and they win, and the world is told of the story and song, and at the end of it all Angus is left unsure. He was the reason that the world was almost destroyed, and the only reason that the birds let him hang around was because he found his way to the moon base and then refused to leave. Without a purpose to find the Light he was just a little boy, and while he had some practice in that he was still left somewhat at odds. He could go back to solving the occasional case to make money, but that was lonely, and he didn’t like being lonely. On the other hand, a little piece inside of him that sounded like a chorus of voices said that it was what he had earned, now that the Hunger had failed in their mission, but he shut that down. He existed in the world, same as everybody else, and the Hunger may have created him but they did such a good job that he wasn’t theirs anymore. He was Angus McDonald, and he was his own person.
- He found a home with the birds and the Bureau members, and while they might have had different living situations he had at many different bedrooms in many different houses. He knew that this wasn’t how most little boys were raised, but he also knew that he wasn’t like most little boys. He was Angus McDonald, fully realized creation. He was Angus McDonald, and he was going to have a real life. He was Angus McDonald, and he wasn’t alone anymore.
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crackimagines · 4 years
Text
Reunion at Dawn (evil!Byleth AU)
AU Masterlist Here!
Withering Flower - Chapter 5
5 years have passed since the Battle at Garreg Mach, and the war has been drawn to a stalemate. Constant attacks by the Knights of Nemesis have halted any progress the Empire and Church may have made.
After maintaining a facade of neutrality, Claude finds out the truth of what Byleth has been planning throughout all this time, and is now racing against the clock to get the truth out before it is too late for everyone.
-----
The Elites of the Fell Star Journal - “Breach”
Throughout the five years, the Elites of the Fell Star was sent all across Fodlan to gather resources for a super weapon Byleth wanted to make.
We had built it under Garreg Mach so that way only our engineers and mages could tamper it, and at all times it was under heavy security.
Once it was finally finished, it was Byleth's favorite toy.
He shipped it out into some god-forsaken desert in the North and had a good chunk of us guarding it.
The fortress holding it was a spectacle to behold.
It was also the most boring assignment in the continent for a Knight of Nemesis.
Tedious inspection drills, endless hours of guarding impregnable magic fields.
Things got so bad that when a breach of security was reported, we were almost happy to be chasing down someone again.
If only we had known what an embarrassing shitstorm we were about to wade into, and how the situation escalated all the way to Derdriu.
We probably would have razed the entire base to the ground...
-----
CURRENT STATE OF FODLAN:
3 Years Later after Chapter 4
Imperial Year 1185
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When Byleth, now referred to as Nemesis, announced his presence to the world in Arianrhod, he had declared war on the Adrestian Empire and the Church of Seiros. And by association, the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.
For such a small force to deal with a 3-Front war, everyone thought he would be crushed in a matter of a few months, or even weeks.
The Church of Seiros was the first to attack, sending a relatively strong army to Garreg Mach and to secure the Monastery.
However, the forces were completely obliterated in an ambush right outside of the monastery, with magic and beasts no one had ever seen before.
This showed that Nemesis would not go down easily, if at all.
Before anyone could make the next move, Nemesis launched a full-scale counter attack with the Knights of Nemesis on all fronts.
While had not conquered territory to expand, he razed each city to the ground while taking all the supplies and any prisoners back to Garreg Mach.
Several attempts were made to infiltrate Garreg Mach, but each time was a critical failure.
His forces could warp in and out of the battlefield, inflicting maximum damage while taking minimal losses, no one had a good counter to his hit and run tactics.
Edelgard, previously having Nemesis as her professor, knew how dangerous he was and tried to avoid direct combat with his forces as much as possible.
The only trump card she has against him, is the Death Knight, which no forces have been able to take down thus far.
The war is at a stalemate.
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Claude, having stayed neutral the entire war, decides to investigate what Byleth has been up to.
Having been careful in setting his spy networks, has been keeping a close eye on him.
Not only that, an anonymous source saying that they were a Knight of Nemesis and wanted to defect gave Claude vital information.
Large amounts of soldiers and resources were poured to moving an item from Garreg Mach to the deserts of Sreng. They could not put what exactly it was into the letter, but time was of the essence to reveal this project.
They could not hope to stop it Sreng, but once they found out what this item was, it would be pulled back to Garreg Mach and be hopefully destroyed there.
In order to find out what it was, he sends a small force to run a covert operation.
Hilda, Lysithea, and Ignatz were trusted to keep a low profile and check it out.
Deserts of Southern Sreng Unknown Facility...
Ignatz turned the corner in the hallway and saw two guards chatting as they continued in the direction opposite of him.
(Guard 1) “Damn, the test did that much destruction?”
(Guard 2) “Yeah, it was a good thing that we were told to stand back as far as we did. The debris of the buildings went everywhere.”
(Guard 1) “Thank the goddess that it was uninhabited.”
When they turned a corner to the right, they disappeared. It looked like they were at an intersection now.
(Ignatz) “What are they talking about?”
(Lysithea) “We’ll figure it out soon enough, now let’s get moving!”
He nodded, and the trio quietly ran to the intersection.
Hilda checked the right side while Ignatz checked the left.
(Hilda) “Jeez, how slowly can these guards walk, they’re not even out of the hall yet!”
(Lysithea) “Be quiet!”
(Ignatz) “Coast is clear over here, let’s get a move on!”
They walked down the hall trying their best not to make any noise as they slipped by the guards. They kept walking down the corridor, looking behind and front of them.
(Hilda) “The room the double agent told us to meet them in is getting close, right?”
(Ignatz) “If the map is accurate it should be...here!”
Ignatz readied his bow before Lysithea quickly opened the door, drawing out an arrow and looking into the room.
(Ignatz) “...Clear.”
Hilda nodded and shut the door behind them, holding her axe tightly.
(Lysithea) “Where is the agent? Did they fake us out?”
(Ignatz) “Must be running late. If that’s the case they should knock on the do-”
KNOCK KNOCK!
Everyone hid behind cover as Ignatz put his back against the wall near the door.
If the situation came up where they didn’t see each in the room, they had to knock back in a certain pattern.
Ignatz slowly put his fist against the door.
KNOCK! KNOCK...KNOCK KNOCK!
The door slowly opened and the figure revealed themselves.
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“Whew, thank goodness you guys are-What in the-?!”
(Everyone) “Leonie?!”
(Leonie) “H-Hey, keep it down you idiots!”
(Lysithea) “So the rumors were true! What in the world are you doing with Byleth?!”
(Leonie) “Listen, there’s a time and place for that, but that isn’t now! I promise I can explain everything, but for now put these on!”
Leonie down disguises for everyone. They were uniforms with bits of armor, and a fully sealed helmet.
Once everyone put on their helmets, they turned to Leonie.
(Hilda) “It’s good to see you’re okay but, it’s been five years! Why did you suddenly decide to contact us?”
(Leonie) “City after city, civilians dying in the droves and being ordered to kill every one of them? That’s...That’s something I can’t in good conscience let slide, even if it was at some point for a good cause. But that doesn’t matter, I need to tell you about what you came for! It’s...It’s a super weapon the likes of which we’ve never seen before. It’s called the Javelin of Liberation.
(Ignatz) “That name doesn’t sound good. What does it do?”
(Leonie) “That’s all I can say. The last thing I want to do is risk what little time I have. Here, take these papers!”
Leonie shoved documents into his hands.
(Leonie) “Bring it to Claude, and he’ll know what to do. The fate of Fodlan...No, this world lies in your guys hands! You have to bring it to him! Do you guys have an extraction point?”
(Lysithea) “Yeah, we have a boat that can-”
(Leonie) “Tch, that’s not fast enough! We’re already preparing to ship out the Javelin back to Garreg Mach!”
(Hilda) “What?! We were too late?!”
(Leonie) “No, just in time as a matter of fact. I’m supposed to be transporting this to a portal that’ll take us to Gronder Field in 2 weeks!”
(Ignatz) “Why Gronder?”
(Leonie) “We’ve had scouts examining the area from where we wiped out Those Who Slither, and it’s been completely unguarded since Edelgard thinks that place can’t be used anymore. We’ve been using it as a shortcut to avoid Alliance and Kingdom forces to get to Sreng. I can get you guys through that portal and from there, you can hijack a carriage to get back to Derdriu!”
(Lysithea) “Sounds like a plan to me, but what about you?”
(Leonie) “I...I gave up trying to justify myself a long time ago. I’m ready to pay the price for what I’ve done with my life. And that means doing the right thing.”
(Hilda) “Come with us! We can’t just-”
(Leonie) “When you get out, take a left and keep going straight! If they ask what you’re doing, say you’re redeploying back to Garreg Mach as an assignment by me! Now go!”
Leonie immediately left the room, leaving the three alone.
(Hilda) “Leonie...”
(Ignatz) “...Come on, we need to move. We need Claude to get this.”
As Leonie walked down the hallway, she looked down and sighed loudly.
(Leonie) Claude, I hope I can do right by you now...
(Shamir) “You’re sweating a lot there, Leonie.”
(Leonie) “S-SHAMIR?!”
She turned around and saw Shamir leaning against the wall.
(Shamir) “Those are some guards I haven’t seen before. In fact one of them looks like a kid, didn’t even know we made uniforms that small.”
(Leonie) “S-Shamir I-”
Shamir put her hand on Leonie’s shoulder and leaned into her ear.
(Shamir) “Next time, check your surroundings completely. You’re lucky it was me around.”
Leonie’s eyes went wide and turned to Shamir who was already walking off.
(Leonie) “Wait...Does that mean you-”
Shamir signaled a thumbs up behind her as she kept walking.
(Leonie) “...Thank you, Shamir.”
Derdriu, War Room
2 days later...
12 days before Javelin of Liberation ships back to Garreg Mach.
13th of the Ethereal Moon (12/13/1185)
(Claude) “First of all, thank you guys for risking your necks. We never would have gotten such criticla information without you.”
(Hilda) “If anything we should be thanking Leonie. I...I wish she could’ve come with us.”
(Ignatz) “It doesn’t feel good leaving a classmate behind like that.”
(Lysithea) “Did you guys forget what she said already? She’s doing this for us, let’s not waste it.”
(Claude) “Lysithea’s right. All we can do now is look forward and try to make things better. Now, the papers?”
Ignatz nodded and handed Claude the documents he kept safe.
As Claude read the papers, his eyes slowly became wider.
(Claude) “Goddess, this is what Teach has been doing?!”
(Lysithea) “Yeah, we read the reports on the way here...I didn’t think anyone had that much magical power in this world. The technology-”
(Hilda) “Is freaking scary! Do you think he really is going to do that?”
(Ignatz) “With how he’s been completely destroying the Church, Empire and Kingdom? I have no doubt in my mind...”
(Claude) “Hilda, get the fastest couriers we have that can slip by Garreg Mach and bring them to me! Ignatz, I want you to order to have our troopers stand by for combat. Teach is going to know we’re up to something. Lysithea get the best mages we have to prevent any kind of magical attack that the Knights of Nemesis might have!”
Everyone nodded and ran out the door to do what they were told, there wasn’t a moment longer to lose.
He took out three papers and a quill with a bottle of ink.
(Claude) “We have to get everyone together to stop this. If we don’t...Doesn’t matter who wins this war, we’re all ending up dead...”
10 days later...
2 days before Javelin of Liberation ships back to Garreg Mach.
25th of the Ethereal Moon (12/25/1185)
It was the extremely early in the morning when everyone started arriving in their escorts.
Dimitri was the first to arrive, alongside the class of the Blue Lions. As they were nearing the gate, a blue haired woman greeted them.
(Dimitri) “Marianne!”
(Marianne) “Hello your majesty. It’s good to see you again.”
(Dimitri) “And to you as well. Though, I wish this was under better circumstances.”
(Marianne) “Claude is waiting for you in the War Room. If you would please follow.”
Dimitri nodded and followed, the rest of the former Blue Lions close behind them.
The next to arrive was Edelgard, closely tagged behind a Royal Guard and the Black Eagles Strike Force.
This time it was Claude who greeted them.
(Claude) “Edelgard.”
(Edelgard) “Claude.”
There was an awkward silence before Claude cleared his throat.
(Claude) “If you’d follow me, Dimitri will be there. All we’re missing is Rhea.”
(Edelgard) “It must be a very desperate situation if you are expecting me and her to get along during this meeting.”
She expected Claude to crack a joke, but his expression just grew darker.
(Claude) “If you don’t, then I might as well just kill us all myself to save Teach the trouble...”
(Edelgard) “I’ll...be on my best behavior then, Claude.”
(Claude) “Appreciated.”
Rhea was the last to arrive, coming in with Seteth, Flayn, and Catherine as her escorts. The Knights of Seiros stood outside, across from the Kingdom and Empire’s royal guards.
Dimitri brought them in and guided them to the room that they would all be sitting at.
(Dimitri) “Lady Rhea.”
(Rhea) “Hello, Dimitri...I see that woman is already here.”
(Dimitri) “Y-Yes-”
(Seteth) “I can only guess how you must be feeling, your worship, but I humbly ask that we keep our minds open. It must be an urgency of the upmost importance if Claude were to invite those who are warring to come together like this.”
(Flayn) “And the professor isn’t here...?”
(Rhea) “Because that child would be dead, Flayn. I am barely holding my hatred in as it is...”
(Catherine) “Lady Rhea, please. Let us hear what they have to say first.”
(Rhea) “Hmph...”
When Rhea and Dimitri entered the War Room, Claude was sitting at the head while the classes were standing near their respective leaders.
Rhea sat down at the other end of the table, facing Claude, while Dimitri sat across from Edelgard.
(Claude) “Alright...onto business, we all understand the general idea of why we’re here, yes?”
(Dimitri) “Yes.”
(Edelgard) “...Indeed.”
(Rhea) “Hm.”
(Claude) “Teac-...No, Nemesis is planning something huge, something that dwarfs this war entirely.”
(Rhea) “Oh please, what could those band of heretics even do-”
(Edelgard) “Those ‘heretics’ if you haven’t noticed have been decimating all of our forces across the entire continent! And if I recall correctly, your forces were so confident marching up to Garreg Mach, only to end up with no survivors!-”
(Rhea) “You dare?!-”
SLAM!
Everyone turned to Dimitri who had completely ripped off a part of the table when he slammed his fist into it.
Though he didn’t mean to do that, it certainly got their attention. Whatever works he supposed.
(Dimitri) “We have no time for your grudges right now! I have seen first hand three years ago of what he is capable of, and the fact Claude brings us all here despite those grudges, and tells us that he is planning something? I’d take this meeting as a priority over your ideals!”
Rhea and Edelgard sat back down into their chairs and turned back to Claude.
(Claude) “Thanks. Now, how much do you guys know about Nemesis thus far?”
(Edelgard) “He has been evading our main forces and have been striking at strategic points along the borders of Faerghus and the Alliance. I have only fought his men, none of his Elites or himself as of yet.
(Dimitri) “Dedue and I encountered him in Arianrhod where I was to be executed. Back then, I only cared about getting my revenge, believing Edelgard was behind the Tragedy of Duscur but...Nemesis had opened my eyes to the facts. Besides that, our forces have had minimal contact with him. The Death Knight protected Mercedes and Annette from their assassins, but that’s about it as direct contact goes. I do not think they are interested in Faerghus besides key points associated with the Church.”
(Rhea) “He has been slaughtering my followers with no hesitation, and have devastated most of our bases...”
(Claude) “Then let me tell you what exactly he’s been up to. I’ve sent some of my men to Sreng after someone from within contacted me...-”
...
Scouts looked at the soldiers standing outside and motioned for the others to head back.
It was confirmed. Claude has called all the leaders to Derdriu.
Byleth and his forces were closing in on Derdriu as they marched forward.
Though it took a lot of resources to do so, they teleported directly outside to bypass any of the border patrols, and everyone wore black to blend in with the darkness of night.
(Byleth) “So it was true...You did allow a breach of security to happen, Leonie.”
He turned around to Leonie, who was kneeling on the ground with hands tied behind her back.
Riddhe and Alois were standing next to her, holding their weapons firmly.
(Byleth) “You disappoint me but at the same time...I cannot fault you for going behind my back.”
(Leonie) “...”
(Byleth) “You always were a kind person underneath.”
(Leonie) “And I thought you were too?! Those years we spent slaughtering civilians, how can you still look any of us in the eye?! You and Jeralt spent so much time protecting the people, and you’ve become no more than a glorified bandit leader!”
The soldiers looked to her in shock of what she was saying.
It wasn’t necessarily that she was in the right or wrong for saying it. It was more of the fact she said that to begin with.
(Byleth) “...I was a fool for believing that you could understand why I was doing this. Perhaps I had a bit too much faith instead of relying on my logic.”
(Leonie) “What we did to Randolph and Fleche, what we did to all those civilians?! How do any of those actions justify what our goal is?! You said we’d be bringing peace to the world, not destroying it!”
The soldiers started talking amongst themselves, agreeing and disagreeing with her.
Byleth just sighed.
(Byleth) “I always did like you, Leonie. So, as an act of mercy, you will not see what will become of your classmates.”
He unsheathed the sword of the creator before Percy walked up.
(Percy) “Sir?”
(Byleth) “What is it?”
(Percy) “I’ll be the one to do this sir. You need to focus on the task at hand, you shouldn’t have to kill one of your students.”
Byleth stayed silent. True, he really didn’t want to but he had to make an example for the men, but at the same time...
(Byleth) “You have my thanks then. Percy, take care of her, and make it painless.”
(Percy) “Yes, Nemesis.”
Alois and Riddhe stepped to the side as Percy began charging a spell in his hands.
Shamir and Alois looked at each other but didn’t say anything.
They knew what was about to happen.
(Leonie) “Percy...”
(Percy) “You’re my friend Leonie so...Sorry about this.”
Shamir and Alois closed their eyes and looked away.
Leonie shook her head slowly.
(Leonie) “You were always too compliant for your own good, ya know?”
Percy silently nodded, and raised his hand at her.
The next thing Leonie saw, was her world going black.
Percy picked up Leonie’s body and turned to Byleth.
(Percy) “I’ll bury her for you, sir.”
Byleth nodded silently.
(Byleth) “Now then...Riddhe, prepare the artillery.
....
(Edelgard) “Byleth intends to blow up the entire planet?!”
(Claude) “In his words, it’s to start everything from zero. No church, no crests, nothing so...what better way to do than to wipe the earth clean?”
(Dimitri) “And...And he already has this weapon?!”
(Claude) “No. He intends to use it Garreg Mach, and we have a limited time to intercept it.”
(Rhea) “And where is the damned child going?”
(Claude) “From the Hyrm Mountains and how long it’ll take all of our forces to reconvene, it’ll be 3 days too late to get him at the base of Those Who Slither. Our next best option is to intercept him right at the heart of Gronder Field.”
(Edelgard) “...Tch, how ironic.”
(Dimitri) “I loathe to think what would’ve happened if this war carried on as it did. We’d be fighting each other there instead...”
(Rhea) “Do not dwell on such useless thoughts, Prince Dimitri. What matters is that we kill Nemesis as fast as possible.”
(Edelgard) “We are in agreement for once.”
(Claude) “So, we can put aside all of our differences to stop Nemesis then?”
Everyone nodded and the classes started whispering to each other.
(Claude) “Fantastic. Now, let’s send letters to your armies standing near the borders and prepare to-”
KABOOOOM! (Claude) “...Fight.”
(Imperial Royal Guard) “LADY EDELGARD! THE KNIGHTS OF NEMESIS HAVE BEGUN ATTACKING DERDRIU!”
(Hilda) “They got past our patrols?!”
(Claude) “Figures, EVERYONE, PREPARE FOR BATTLE!”
Platoons of soldiers of the Knights of Nemesis began pouring onto the roads to Deridru.
(Gilbert) "GET TO THE FRONT, WE MUST PROTECT THE CIVILIANS!"
The Lion Corp moved to the front, forming a blockade with their massive shields, blocking incoming arrow fire.
(Death Knight) "MAGES!"
Imperial mages unleashed a volley of spells onto the troopers coming in, the Death Knight charging into them with his bodyguards on horseback.
Rodrigue and Judith came in with a number of troopers behind them, joining the fray.
(Judith) "Those damn mages up there are raining hell on Derdriu! If we don't get up there fast enough, this entire town will be in flames!"
(Rodrigue) "We can't get close enough! The archers are providing cover for any riders we send up there, and going by foot is suicide!"
(Gilbert) "All we can hope to do is block their main forces from storming the city! The kids will be getting the civilians to safety!"
The Death Knight rode back to them, holding his scythe firmly as he looked to the Titanius Golems moving in behind the soldiers.
(Death Knight) "We have no time for idle talk, we must take down those golems!"
(Rodrigue) "Right, TROOPERS, WITH ME!"
The four generals charged alongside their men and took the Knights of Nemesis head on.
(Seteth) "They are using the other entrances to breach the city!"
(Claude) "Golden Deers, get the townsfolk to safety!"
(Dimitri) "Lions, we shall take these bastards head on!"
(Rhea) "Knights of Seiros, we shall join the Prince in smiting down these heretics!"
(Edelgard) "Black Eagles, we move to take out the artillery!"
The classes moved out and the leaders about to join them until they heard something warp in behind them.
As the sun rose in, they saw the shadow of the person.
They all drew out their weapons and spun around, pointing it at the figure.
(Byleth) "It's been 5 years..."
No one said a word as they stood their ground, waiting for him to make a move.
(Byleth) "I should've been keeping a closer eye on you, Claude. You were always one of the more crafty students."
Claude's brows furrowed, keeping his relic trained on Byleth's head.
(Claude) "Why the hell are you trying to blow us all to oblivion?!"
(Byleth) "Because, we're all part of the problem, Claude. Humanity will never learn to stop fighting each other at this rate. The poison of the Church and Empire run too deep. The nobles, crests, relics, everything."
(Rhea) "You dare to call us a poison when you yourself take the mantle of a murderer you ignorant brat?! If you read the history of Those Who Slither, then you should know Nemesis was nothing more than a thief!"
(Edelgard) "Professor, I-"
(Byleth) "You still call me that after what you've done? You started all of this!"
(Dimitri) "You speak as if you are above us, yet you fail to realize you are a hypocrite! Condemning Edelgard and Rhea for the very actions you are doing, believing that YOU and you alone are right in what atrocities you have committed!"
(Byleth) "...I will not deny that my actions are unforgivable, but-"
(Rhea) "But NOTHING! YOU WILL DIE TODAY, HERETIC!"
(Byleth) "Then it seems I was a fool for trying to talk to a beast!-"
...
(Percy) "Hey, come on! Get up already!"
"Nnggh...what...?-"
Leonie sat up quickly realizing what had just happened.
(Leonie) "P-Percy? Are you dead too-"
(Percy) "No, you're still alive!"
Leonie's face went from relief to confusion.
(Leonie) "...What?"
(Percy) "...Truth be told, the moment we retook Garreg Mach and I had to kill all those townsfolk...I started to lose faith in our cause."
He helped Leonie up. And took off his mask, and looked at her, eye to eye.
(Percy) "And what we started doing to Randolph, his little sister and all those people? No amount of good we do will wash the blood off our hands from that."
Percy started to look off to Derdriu as the sounds of war filled the air.
(Percy) "I promised my cousin to be a mercenary to help protect families who couldn't protect their own...I guess this is my way of repaying the favor."
He turned back to her.
(Percy) "Get to town via the water, your gear is right next to you."
(Leonie) "You're...not coming with?"
(Percy) "As you said Leonie, I'm too compliant for my own good. I couldn't raise my weapon against Byleth if I could. Half out of respect and half out of fear honestly."
(Leonie) "Percy...You know what he does to-"
(Percy) "He'll kill me, I know. Don't worry about me, alright? Just get to your folks."
Before he put his mask on, he smiled at her.
(Percy) "Thanks for always being so nice to me, Leonie."
Leonie picked up her gear and nodded. A single tear dropped from her eye, but she wiped it away as they parted ways.
If she started now, she wouldn't be able to stop.
Claude and the others needed her now.
(Leonie) "Goodbye, Percy."
(Percy) "...See ya."
...
Shamir and Alois walked towards the other mages firing off artillery.
Two other mages were with them and they stopped before they reached the others.
(Mage 1) "Is there a problem?"
(Alois) "Yes son, there is."
(Shamir) "Two of them."
Alois spun around and punched the mage's stomach, making him drop to the floor.
Shamir roundhouse kicked the mage, making him fly off a small cliff below them, landing in the water.
(Alois) "I'll take care of the archers, get the mages!"
(Shamir) "Already on it."
As Alois charged towards the unsuspecting bodyguards, Shamir pulled out several small ball-like explosives.
(Shamir) "Might as well see if these prototypes work."
The archers were taking aim at the four leaders in the fight below as the mages kept bombarding the city.
(Archer 1) "On my mark!"
Right as he raised his hand, he noticed several spheres rolling under their feet.
(Archer 1) "Huh?-"
An explosion made most of the archers and mages fly off the cliff, or die from the shrapnel and blood loss as their limbs went flying.
Several more explosions went off, cutting off the Nemesis's artillery.
(Judith) "The hell is going on up there?"
(Death Knight) "An opportunity."
(Gilbert) "MEN, ADVANCE!"
...
(Raphael) "There's so many of these guys!"
He clashed two of the knights head together before throwing their bodies beside him.
Lorenz and Lysithea used magic to blast away a squad getting too close to the civilians, as Hilda and Ignatz made sure they were getting to the evacuation boats.
Marianne healed any civilian who couldn't run to the boat.
(Hilda) "At least we're not dealing with the bulk of them!"
(Ignatz) "RAPH, BEHIND YOU!"
Raphael turned around right as a knight was about to take a swing with his sword.
A knife went into the knight's head and he fell over.
(Leonie) "Note to self, thank Shamir for practice."
(Lysithea) "LEONIE!"
(Leonie) "No time to talk, where's Claude?! The Javelin is already on the move!"
(Hilda) "Huh?! But thats too early, we still have 2 days don't we?!"
(Leonie) "The report I gave you was a trick from Byleth, he knew that I'd be giving out the information on it!"
(Lorenz) "Goddess, Nemesis is fighting them!"
Everyone turned around and saw the fighting in the distance.
Claude shot several arrows, with Byleth deflecting each one, dodging Rhea's swings.
Activating the whip, Byleth rolled out the way of Edelgard's axe as it slammed down onto the concrete.
As he swung the whip at Edelgard, Dimitri hit the whip away from her and twirled at him, the lance hitting a part of Byleth's cloth.
Before he could retaliate, Riddhe and several other soldiers warped in front of him, blocking Claude's shot with a magical shield.
(Riddhe) "Sir, our artillery battery and main forces are overrun!"
(Byleth) "What?!"
(Mage 1) "Shamir and Alois have gone rogue, and have already caused catastrophic damage to morale!"
(Byleth) "Damn it, fire the flare, we're withdrawing!"
One of the mages fired a green fireball into the air as they warped away from the fight.
In the distance, they all saw the Knights of Nemesis retreat into portals.
(Rhea) "DAMN IT!"
(Dimitri) "So, this battle is won then..."
(Leonie) "CLAUDE!"
Everyone turned around and saw the Golden Deer students run up to them.
(Claude) "Leonie, thank -"
(Leonie) "Yeah yeah, good to see you too, not now! The Javelin is already on the way to Garreg Mach!"
Everyone's eyes went wide.
(Edelgard) "What?!"
(Claude) "A false report, damn it all! And our forces haven't had anytime to recover yet!"
(Shamir) "If the Javelin gets to Garreg Mach and has proper time to deploy?"
Shamir and Alois stepped around the corner, holding their weapons and hands over their injuries.
(Alois) "Then we're all dead..."
Everyone reconvened near the entrance, Catherine and Seteth's jaws hitting the floor.
(Catherine) "You two!? The hell makes you think you can just waltz back in? Leonie too!"
The three looked down onto the floor.
They couldn't deny what Catherine was saying.
(Dimitri) "Worry about the trials later, we have a much bigger crisis on our hands! EVERYONE, LISTEN WELL!"
Dimitri shouted loud enough for all the soldiers to hear, clearly conveying the situation at hand.
(Edelgard) "We must ride to our armies, and regroup at Gronder Field!"
(Rhea) "How much of the heretics will be present to defend their Javelin?"
(Shamir) "Almost half our forces will be there to defend it now that information has been leaked. The rest are stationed at Garreg Mach awaiting for a fight."
(Claude) "Then let's get moving, people!"
Everyone steeled themselves as they got on horses to alert their armies.
This was going to be the bloodiest battle Fodlan had ever seen since the old days.
-----
The Elites of the Fell Star Journal - “Surprise”
If there’s one thing we weren’t expecting once the news of our doomsday weapon was leaked, was that all four factions would unite under a single banner.
With the false leak that we’d be moving later, we thought we could at least get a bit of a distance from the armies before they could converge.
And for once in our entire campaign, we were the ones getting surprised.
I’ll tell you right now.
I’d trade places with that poor bastard Randolph than partake in the Battle of Gronder again.
-----
[Escape - Darling In The Franxx]
57 notes · View notes
a-blue-secret · 3 years
Text
CHAPTER XVI
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BACK TO THE MASTERLIST
Chapter XV | Chapter XVI | Chapter XVII
GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun
PAIRING: taegyu
WARNINGS: swearing, slight suggestive content (it’s like 3 words)
WORD COUNT: 4.8k+
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AN: This is kinda like a filler chapter, but not really a filler chapter because it explains Taehyun's ability and also gives an insight into Hueningkai's and Yeonjun's jobs so.. yeah. Enjoy!
SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for a year and a day, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?
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“Oh, that’s right,” Hueningkai said, getting out of his chair to sit next to Taehyun. “I said I’d help you with your ability, right?”
Taehyun sat up. “Oh yeah! Yeah, I remember.”
“Tell me, what was your ability again?”
“Foreign exchange,” Taehyun said. “I’m from the Jeo clan, and their ability is foreign exchange.”
“Hmm… foreign exchange…” Hueningkai pressed his fingers into his temples, and scrunched up his forehead, tongue slightly poking out of the corner of his mouth. Taehyun blinked at him.
“That’s his thinking face,” Yeonjun explained. “Kai here has the most incredible memorisation skills. Anything he memorises gets stored in his brain. Forever.”
“Queen Erajin always made me memorise all the books in the palace for this exact reason,” Hueningkai said, face still scrunched in concentration.
“ All the books?” Taehyun repeated, surprised. “Surely there must be thousands and thousands of books, if it’s a palace?”
Hueningkai hummed in confirmation, pressing his fingers further against the sides of his head. Taehyun let out a disbelieving gasp, sitting back.
“But it’s okay. It only took around five years.”
“Five years?” Taehyun said. “Wow, I guess you guys really did want to become spies.”
Hueningkai opened his eyes, and gave a smile. “It was our only option,” he said softly. He clapped his hands together. “But anyway! I think I’ve read something about the Jeo clan before, but I can’t remember exactly. That’s odd.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “It must be a pure Gojongja clan, because we don’t have many records of them in Aruyeo.” He nodded resolutely. “Yeah, that must be it. Otherwise I would have known about them. Taehyun, you guys have records of all the clans that ever existed, right?”
Taehyun nodded. “Yeah. In our Archive. Why?”
“I think if I saw the document about the Jeo clan, it would jog my memory,” Hueningkai said.
“Oh, would you like me to get it for you?” Taehyun asked.
“No, I’ll need to come with you,” Hueningkai said, rising from the bed. Yeonjun started in alarm, and grabbed Hueningkai’s wrist.
“Kai, that’s not safe! Are you sure?” Yeonjun said urgently.
“I’m a spy,” Hueningkai reminded Yeonjun. “I’ll be fine. Besides, it’ll be more cumbersome for Taehyun to carry a large, old document back to our room. Trust me, it’ll be okay.”
Yeonjun pursed his lips, and held tighter onto Hueningkai. “I’ll come with you, then.” When Hueningkai tried to protest, Yeonjun held up a hand. “If anything happens, I’ll put all the blame on me. I don't want you getting hurt.”
Hueningkai looked like he wanted to argue, but sighed, giving a small smile.He patted Yeonjun’s hand, which was still wrapped around his wrist. “Fine, if you insist.” He turned to Taehyun, giving a fake sigh of exasperation. “Older brothers, so overprotective,” he said.
Yeonjun flicked his forehead annoyedly. “Shush. I just don’t want you getting hurt.”
“See what I mean? Ow! Okay, okay– I’ll stop! Come on Taehyun, lead the way.”
“How are you going to get around without being seen?” Taehyun asked curiously.
“I’m not,” Hueningkai said. “I’ll be walking around, plain as day, but I’ll blend in so invisibly you won’t be able to see me.”
Taehyun blinked, confused, but shrugged. “Okay.”
.・゜-: ✧ :-
“Here, the Archive,” Taehyun announced, stopping in front of a metal door protected by five guards. “With a titanium door 11 inches thick and multiple invisible lasers inside, it’s one of the most protected places in our palace.” He glanced at the guards. “Not to mention its excess of guards.”
“How do we get in, then? If it’s that guarded?” Yeonjun asked.
Taehyun gave a grin. “You forget. I’m the Grand Vizier. I’m allowed practically everywhere.” He nodded at one of the guards, and the guard produced a small key. “Thank you.” Taehyun walked up to the door and inserted the key into an almost invisible keyhole in the metal.
“Hang on, hang on,” Yeonjun said, as the door swung open. Taehyun turned to look at him. “You have all these guards and security, but it can be opened with a single key?”
Taehyun turned back to the door, and pushed the key more forcefully into the lock. The small key seemed to bend, and melted into the metal of the door. There was a green flickering from inside the room: an indication the lasers had been turned off.
“Every time a key is used, it is immediately replaced with a different one,” Taehyun said. “It has a different look, different lock combination, everything. So if someone tries to steal the key, it won’t work on the door because the lock will have already changed.”
Yeonjun raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Wow. That’s… wow. Really?”
Taehyun turned to the guard who had given him the key. The guard showed him a new key, this time rusted and red in colour.
“I don’t know how it works, but it just does,” Taehyun said, shrugging. “Anyway, come on. We don’t have all day.”
.・゜-: ✧ :-
“These cabinets on this wall are all full of the records of clans,” Taehyun said, opening one of the many cabinets inside the Archive.
“J will be in the middle,” Hueningkai said. “Come on.”
Taehyun flinched heavily, almost dropping the document he was holding. “Holy– where did you come from?”
Hueningkai quirked a grin. “I was with you the whole time. Did you forget?”
Taehyun clutched his chest, trying to slow his heartbeat. “No, I– I knew you were here, definitely–”
“I told you I could move invisibly,” Hueningkai said, still smiling at Taehyun’s shocked expression. “I didn’t even need to do anything, but I was still invisible. Cool, right?” He walked along the rows of cabinets, and opened one. “Ah, J! So the Jeo clan should be here somewhere…” Rustling of paper filled the room, but when Hueningkai’s head emerged from the drawer he just looked confused.
“What’s wrong?” Yeonjun asked, going over to where Hueningkai was.
“That’s odd,” Hueningkai said, stepping back to let Yeonjun search. “There’s no Jeo clan.”
“Really?” Taehyun said, confused. “I did my own research, and a Jeo clan definitely did exist.”
“The records suggest otherwise,” Yeonjun said, looking through the papers. He looked up. “Is there anywhere else that Gojongja may keep records of clans?”
“All I can think of is the Palace Library, but I know that library inside out–” Taehyun paused, remembering something Scholar Min had told him.
Back when Taehyun had first tried to find out about the explosive, Yoongi had told him that information about them wouldn’t be in a place he’d been to.
"You were looking in the wrong place. Spheres like these-" He rolled the marble in his palm- "aren't something you can access information on easily. They're in the section of the library I doubt you've been to."
"Which part? I assure you, I have been to every section of that library at least twice. I'm sure I know."
Yoongi chuckled. "Well, I assure you , that you have most certainly never been to the place which would hold information about these."
“Wait, Yoongi said something to me before,” Taehyun said. “Do you guys know how to access secret rooms you’ve never been into before?”
Hueningkai patted Yeonjun’s shoulder. “That’s this guy’s speciality.”
“Good. Yeonjun, I think there might be a secret room in the library which holds information about things people don’t look for. Do you think you could find it?”
Yeonjun raised his eyebrow. “Oh really?” He stretched his arms, cracking his knuckles. “I suppose I could give it a try. Let’s get going to the Palace Library.”
.・゜-: ✧ :-
Yeonjun carefully ran his fingers along the bookshelves, pausing every now and then to peer into the cracks of the wall. Taehyun and Hueningkai followed behind.
“Uh…” Taehyun looked behind him, and almost bumped into Hueningkai. “Does it always take him this long?”
“Shut up,” Yeonjun said. “It’s been a while, okay? Plus, this library is huge.” He straightened up, brushing the dust from his fingertips. “Okay, this isn’t going to work. It’ll take me five years if I do it like this. Though I may have the entire floor plan of Gojongja Palace memorised, I certainly cannot remember all the details of the library. Do you have the blueprints?”
A few short minutes later, Taehyun and Hueningkai were peering over Yeonjun’s shoulder as he eyed the map carefully.
“So? See anything useful?”
“Shh, I need to focus.” Yeonjun brought a finger to his lips, stopping Taehyun from pestering him anymore. “Plus, this is a library. We need to be quiet.”
Suddenly, Yeonjun slammed the map down on the table, yelling triumphantly. “Aha! Here!”
He was quickly shushed by Taehyun. “We’re in a library, we need to be quiet.”
Yeonjun glared at the smirking vizier, taking Taehyun’s hand away from his mouth. “Oh ha ha, very funny. Anyway, how did you not know there was a basement?”
“Huh?” Taehyun looked at the map, scrunching his eyebrows. “Basement?”
Yeonjun traced his finger along the lines, and circled a small indentation in one of the wall drawings. “See here? That means there must be a door. And, since it doesn’t lead to any hallways, there must be a lower layer of the library.”
“I did not know about that,” Taehyun said. “Come on, then! Lead the way!”
.・゜-: ✧ :-
Yeonjun rolled his shoulder uncomfortably, massaging his arm. “That door… it was so stiff. Ugh, I’m going to have arm pains now.”
Hueningkai gave a small laugh. “That’s what you get for shoving open the door. I’m pretty sure Taehyun would have had some key to open it.”
“Oh right. Why didn’t you say anything Taehyun?” Yeonjun complained, walking down. “Watch your step, guys. The last stair is really far from the ground.”
After reaching the door, the three of them descended down the stairs into the library basement. Yeonjun turned around in circles.
“Huh. There’s no light. Where are you guys?”
“Pfft– ow, what are you doing?” Taehyun held Yeonjun’s grabby hands away from him to prevent the Aruyeonan from manhandling his face again. “And duh, there’s no light. We’re underground, and we closed the door.”
Suddenly, there was a bright orange glow, and a ball of fire rolled into the center of the room, illuminating their faces. Yeonjun yelped, clinging onto Taehyun.
“Don’t worry, the fire is in the marble,” Hueningkai said. “This is a slow burner. It won’t last forever, but it’ll last long enough for us to find the document.” He pulled some more out of his pockets, and handed them to Taehyun and Yeonjun. “Let’s hurry.”
“These aren’t marbles, they’re footballs,” Taehyun murmured, struggling to hold the glass ball in one hand. “But yeah, let’s get going.”
The three of them separated, looking through the large underground library on their own. While searching for any important documents, Taehyun tutted.
“All I’ve found are erotic novels! What about you guys?” he called.
“Oh good, I’m not the only one! Hueningkai, have you found anything useful?” Yeonjun’s voice sounded to his left.
There was a yelp and the sound of paper dropping. Hueningkai didn’t answer. Taehyun waited, but there was silence. He cursed and hurried toward where the sound had come from.
Coming up to the bright light of Hueningkai’s fire, he saw Yeonjun already there, holding onto a shaken Hueningkai.
“Hyuka, are you okay? Answer me! Hueningkai!” Yeonjun shook Hueningkai, trying to get a response out of him.
“He- I saw him,” Hueningkai whispered, eyes wild. “Him. The lavender blue eyes… It was him Yeonjun, it was him!”
“Who? Who is it?” Taehyun asked.
“Hueningkai, listen, listen to me,” Yeonjun said urgently. “Listen. There’s no way he’s here, he’s just a myth, it’s okay. Why would he be here? It’s okay, it’s okay. See? He’s not here anymore.  It’s just you, me and Taehyun. It’s okay. Breathe with me. Come on, Hueningkai. Breathe.”
Hueningkai was still breathing heavily, face pale. But eventually, accompanied by Yeonjun’s patient breathing exercises, he calmed down, and the colour returned to his face. He spotted Taehyun standing there awkwardly, and gave an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, Taehyun, for having a panic attack and scaring you there.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Taehyun assured him. “As long as you’re okay.” He paused. “By the way, who is ‘he’?”
“No one,” Yeonjun responded quickly. “Just… a spy myth. That’s all.” He hesitated, still looking concernedly down at Hueningkai. “Taehyun? Why don’t you continue searching for the papers?”
Taehyun frowned. He wanted to stay with Hueningkai and make sure he was okay, but one look at Yeonjun’s pleading face and he reluctantly nodded his head. “Alright.”
As he walked away, he heard Yeonjun whisper urgently to Hueningkai.
“Please tell me you were hallucinating, Kai. Because about a week ago, I also thought I saw him in the palace halls…”
Their voices faded away, and Taehyun tilted his head in confusion. Though he and the spies were now more than just acquaintances, it still seemed there were a lot of things he was yet to understand about their spy world.
.・゜-: ✧ :-
“Hey, I found them,” Taehyun called. “I found the documents. But… it’s embarrassingly just a single piece of parchment.”
“Oh, let’s see.” Yeonjun walked over and looked at it. He frowned. “Oh, you’re right. It’s literally just one sheet.” He looked up at Hueningkai. “How will this help you?”
Hueningkai just shrugged, holding his hand out for the document. “It’ll jog my memory, I’m hoping.” He scanned the document up and down, and his eyes lit up. “Ah, that’s right. Foreign exchange, right?” He waved the paper in front of Taehyun’s face excitedly. “I remember! The reason the Jeo clan died out was because they were systematically killed one by one since their ability was so powerful! Wow, it’s all coming back to me now! The Jeo clan ability was a closely hidden secret in the beginning, so not many people came and took the surname Jeo, because they thought it was weak. That’s the reason why there aren’t any clan branches now. Anyway, the Jeos kept their ability so secret that people thought they had no ability. And that was so, so deadly for the people. Because the Jeos would come out of nowhere and suddenly start dominating and taking over things.
“Foreign exchange is a broad term. And yes, while a name doesn’t necessarily determine an ability, there really is not a more fitting description for the Jeo clan ability. If we were to speak technically, though, it’d be intercommunication between all things. They can speak using anything. Ah, it’s hard to explain, but they can speak any language, be it that of humans, animals, trees… heck, even charms. They could manipulate their voices to speak charms. It’s really quite fascinating, if you think about it.
“Soon, the Jeos spread like wildfire, killing and charming and taking over places. That is, until they grew too strong and the other clans of that era had to unite and ‘exterminate’ the Jeos. I remember, I read about this one famous incident that happened in the First Era, regarding the Yeosan Song clan and the Jeo clan. It was one man against the whole of the Yeosan Songs, and–”
“Okay, that’s enough with the info dump,” Yeonjun interrupted, holding up a hand to stop Hueningkai from rambling on any longer. “I think we get the idea.”
“Right, right.” Hueningkai rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Wow, I see why knowledge on clans is useful to Queen Erajin,” Yeonjun said, staring at Hueningkai. “You’re like an information bank. If we give you any sort of reference, you start spewing out all the information you know which is even remotely related to the subject. How do you remember all this stuff?”
“I absorb information like a sponge. That’s what all my tutors told me.”
“Wait, why does Queen Erajin want information about our clans though?” Taehyun interjected. “That’s part of the alliance, isn’t it? She wants our knowledge on clans, and also our forests. Do you know why?”
“Nope,” Yeonjun said, popping the ‘p’. “She just told me to say that it was something confidential within our court. I don’t actually know what it is. She does weird stuff, I tell you. One of the missions I went on for her was to go steal some flowers from this Lord, and burn the rest of the flowers so they couldn’t grow again.” He shrugged. “I never questioned it. It was never my place to question it. But it was always clear that these missions would be of the utmost benefit to Aruyeo. So I just went along with it.”
Taehyun tutted disapprovingly. “You’re like an obedient dog, aren’t you?”
Yeonjun glared, drawing himself up to his full height. “Shush. I’m more of a wild fox, you squirrel.”
Taehyun gasped. “Squirrel? How dare you!”
“Both of you, shut it,” Hueningkai called. He ruffled Yeonjun’s hair affectionately. “As for you, tiny big bro, don’t make fun of anyone’s height while I’m around. It doesn’t look good.”
Yeonjun pushed Hueningkai’s hand away, glaring at him with little menace. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Otherwise I’d have smashed all the bones in your hand.”
Hueningkai gave a grin. “I would have broken your fingers before you’d be able to do it.”
“Okay so anyway,” Taehyun interjected. “What about the ability, then? Foreign exchange? How do I like… activate it?”
“Ah. That.” Hueningkai scratched his neck. “I’m not actually too sure. It’s not exactly heard of for someone not to be able to use their ability.” At Taehyun’s frowny face, he reached out and patted the vizier’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m sure there will be some logic to figuring it out though. But first, shall we get out of here?”
.・゜-: ✧ :-
“So why do you want to figure it out anyway? You already have the Jinju Kang ability, right? You’re literally famous for how well you can use it. Why do you need to know about the Jeo clan ability?” Hueningkai asked.
The three of them were sitting on the bed inside Yeonjun’s room, in a mini circle. Hueningkai had his hands clasped together, with a frown on his face.
“Well, it’s because it’s my true ability I suppose,” Taehyun responded. “I want to know what I can actually do myself.”
Hueningkai nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense. But what doesn’t is the fact you don’t know how to use this ability.”
He placed his hands down on the mattress, waving them around for emphasis as he talked. “It should be an ability ingrained into you from birth,” he said. “I’m not sure how Gojongja works, but in Aruyeo they held tuition classes to help the kids learn how to control their abilities. Do you have something like that here?”
“All learning on abilities is done independently, I think,” Taehyun responded. “Like you said, knowledge on how to use your ability is ingrained into you from birth, so all the learning we needed to do was just to make it stronger.”
“How do you mean?” Yeonjun asked.
“Like, when I was five, I could only make the grass move. I couldn’t make anything grow. But as I grew older, and my ability grew stronger, I’d practice and practice to get to the stage I am right now.” He held up his hand and conjured a small daisy to prove his point. Letting it bloom for a moment, he folded his hand and crushed the flower. “Like that.”
Yeonjun nodded thoughtfully. “Seeing as Hueningkai couldn’t remember much about the Jeo clan in the beginning, it must be a pure Gojongja clan, meaning the ability works the same way most Gojongja abilities do.”
“Right, right,” Hueningkai agreed. “So that means, since you haven’t used it before, it’s weak.”
“Like that of a newborn baby’s,” Taehyun said.
Hueningkai nodded. “Exactly. But even babies have knowledge of how to use their ability, so I’m just thinking…” He reached out for Taehyun’s hand, the hand in which the vizier had conjured a flower. “Is your Jinju Kang ability interfering with your capability to perform the Jeo ability?” Gently, he traced the lines along Taehyun’s palm, leaving a glowing path where his fingers had been.
“What are you doing?” Taehyun asked, trying to take his hand out of Hueningkai’s grip.
“No, stay there,” Yeonjun said, holding Taehyun’s arm in place. “Matter manipulation, remember? He’s trying to see something.”
“Okay but it’s kind of stressing me,” Taehyun said, watching as more of his palm started to glow.
“It’s okay. Trust me, and relax,” Hueningkai said, not looking up from Taehyun’s hand. “You won’t feel a thing.”
Taehyun hummed, still a little sceptical, but kept his arm steady to allow Hueningkai to do whatever he needed to do. The young Aruyeonan continued to stare at Taehyun’s palm, tracing more glowing patterns across the skin. After a few minutes, Taehyun spoke again.
“Are you trying to see through my skin into my bones?”
“No,” Hueningkai responded. “I’m trying to see through your bones into your ability.” At Taehyun’s confused silence, he began to explain. “There’s no scientific way to explain this as such, but there are other types of matter. Other than the ones we all know about: solids, liquids, and gases, there seem to be others. I don’t know, maybe it’s just because of my ability that I can see them. They’ve never been found out before, so I’m not sure if they’re truly accessible. But anyway, I’m trying to make your skin transparent, and turn the rest of you into another type of matter, which is linked to the magic of our abilities.”
Yeonjun frowned. “So there’s this type of matter which takes the form of abilities?”
“Technically, yeah,” Hueningkai said. “So I’m trying to turn the solid and liquid of your hand into that state of matter.”
“How will that help?” Taehyun asked.
“I’ll be able to see your ability, and identify how you can use the Jeo ability.”
Taehyun gave a soft gasp as his hand unexpectedly turned warm, as if put above the steam of a pot of boiling water. His skin turned translucent, showing all his flesh and bones, before it melted into a strange, sparkly substance. He stared curiously at the substance which appeared to be within his own hand.
“Wow,” was all he was able to say. “That’s pretty.”
Hueningkai gave an amused chuckle, watching the sparkly stuff swirl lazily in Taehyun’s hand. “We are but beings carved from moonshine and stardust,” he said. “That’s what Sir Yoongi always said.” He looked up at Taehyun, and the vizier’s hand stopped glowing, gradually turning back to normal. “He was probably just joking, though.”
“So did you find out what’s wrong with Taehyun’s ability?” Yeonjun asked. “I mean, why he couldn’t use it?”
“Yeah, I have,” Hueningkai said, chuckling slightly. “Ah, I’m so dumb! It’s obvious! It’s because Taehyun’s never attempted to speak in a foreign language before!”
Taehyun blinked, before smiling. “Oh, you’re right. I’ve never had to, so I guess that’s why.”
“They never made you learn a foreign language?” Yeonjun asked curiously.
“They didn’t need to,” Hueningkai said. “They didn’t need to, since Taehyun is already a master at all languages, right? It’s any form of communication, as well! You could probably go talk to a dog now, and it’d understand you.”
“Does that mean I’ll be able to understand dogs too?” Taehyun asked.
“Yeah, but it’ll probably take practice. Remember, your ability is weak, so you need to gradually build it up. Though actually, that might not be the case,” Hueningkai said musingly. “You said your ability grows with your age, right?”
Taehyun nodded. “But it’ll still be weak, because it hasn’t been used before.”
“Ah right, okay.”
Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Hueningkai messily scrambled under the bed. Yeonjun chuckled, and stood up to see who was at the door.
“Um, hello? I heard that Sir Taehyun was meant to be here.” A nervous-looking young boy stood at the door, clutching lots of loose pieces of parchment.
“Yes, I am,” Taehyun said, getting up and walking over to the door. “Ah, these must be information about the Lords, correct?”
“Y– yes, sir. They are.”
“Thank you. I’ll take these, then.”
The boy handed the papers to Taehyun and bowed several times, before shooting off down the hallway. Yeonjun watched him scurry away, chuckling, before closing the door.
“The nervous ones are the most adorable. They act as if you’re going to bite their head off with one wrong move.” He peered over Taehyun’s shoulder as the vizier leafed through the papers. “You’re doing work already? Taehyun, you’ve only just recovered from being sick! Kai, tell him! Since you were literally practically technically almost poisoned , there really is no need for you to go back to work so soon, Taehyun. See here, concentrating for so long will hurt your head, and you might fall over like you did last time! And we don’t know if you’re fully recovered yet, ‘cause you might have relapses or something, which will definitely not be good for you–”
“These papers are long overdue,” Taehyun said, ignoring Yeonjun’s scoldings. “I asked for them about a week ago. Oh well. Better late than never, I suppose.”
“–and it’s not good for your eyes looking at that tiny writing! Hey, Taehyun. Are you listening to me?”
Taehyun walked past Yeonjun, sitting down cross-legged on the carpeted floor. “Hueningkai, you can get up now. The runner boy has gone now.” Hueningkai poked his head out from under the bed, and crawled out to sit next to Taehyun.
“Ooh. Why are you looking at the background info of various Lords?” he asked.
“I’m replacing council members,” Taehyun replied. “These are all potential candidates.”
“Wait, let me see,” Yeonjun said, reaching for a paper. “I might know some of them.”
“Me too,” Hueningkai added, taking another parchment from Taehyun’s pile. “I may not get out of Aruyeo much, but people do come to our court.”
The three of them silently looked through the papers, the two spies occasionally speaking up to let Taehyun know anything additional they knew about certain people.
“This guy was in our military for six years,” Hueningkai said. “I remember him! He’s so handsome as well.”
“Don’t date a soldier,” Yeonjun reprimanded. “They make bad boyfriends.”
“Like spies are any better,” Hueningkai said. “Anyway, I’m just saying. He used to be in the military, so he’s probably good.”
“Speaking of the military, how is everything going with the riot? How has employing the military fared?” Yeonjun asked.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Taehyun smiled, putting down the parchment he’d been looking at. “It was successful! The soldiers retreated the day Beomgyu left, and no one was hurt.”
“That’s good.” A thought struck Hueningkai. “But if it would be that easy, why would they have rebelled?”
“Right? I didn’t understand that. But apparently loads of the soldiers overheard the citizens talking, and it sounded like they had been under a spell,” Taehyun said. He shrugged. “I dunno. There aren't any Lords who are spell-casters, at least according to my knowledge, so I’m not sure. They could have been threatened, but even that is unlikely.”
Yeonjun frowned. "When did you have time to hear that? You were still bedridden the day Beomgyu left!”
“It must have been when you went to your chambers to change clothes,” Hueningkai said, narrowing his eyes playfully. “That’s why you took three hours!”
Taehyun held his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. You caught me! But I can’t stay away from work for too long. So starting tomorrow, I’ll be resuming my duties as a vizier again. Full-time.”
Yeonjun sighed. “So that means tonight is your last night sleeping here, isn’t it?”
“Yep.”
Hueningkai gasped, clapping his hands excitedly. “Then why don’t we all sleep in the bed?”
“What, together?” Taehyun said. “I don’t think–”
“Yes! Hueningkai, you’re a genius!” Yeonjun cheered. When Taehyun tried to protest, he picked up the vizier by the legs and flung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, before plopping him onto the bed, promptly diving onto the mattress next to him. “Come on, Kai!”
“Hey!” Taehyun flailed around for a pillow, and began hitting Yeonjun fervently. In retaliation, Yeonjun also picked up a cushion, hitting Taehyun with equal vigor. Suddenly, a huge bolster pillow hit both of their heads, almost knocking them over. They both paused, turning to slowly look at the offender. Hueningkai blinked, giggling nervously. Within a matter of seconds, Hueningkai was getting beaten up by two pillows, feathers flying everywhere.
The three of them ended up passed out on the bed, surrounded by destroyed pillows and piles of feathers, a tangled mess of limbs. In the morning, they’d have to deal with the white, fluffy mess they’d made, but for now, they were calm and content, far away in dreamland.
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princessselene126 · 5 years
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Titanic AU Characters
Okay so here I have the basic information about the characters in the Lunar Chronicles Titanic Au. Now that I’m done with these I’m gonna start working on the plot. I won’t post that, because I don’t wanna spoil what’s going to happen in it. I will let you know when I finish plotting though. ANYWAY. Please don’t rip off my ideas. Yes, the characters are technically Marissa Meyer’s, and I got the idea for a Titanic Au from @nova-artino-is-a-queen (Again thank you and you’re wonderful.), but most of the ideas (aside from the very basics) in this story won’t be from the Lunar Chronicles books or the movie Titanic. Thank you
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MAIN CHARACTERS
Cinder Linh
16 going on 17
Second class (On the verge of falling into third class because Adri spends too much money on keeping up appearances)
She is indeed, still the lost princess of Luna (but for the sake of this story, Luna is Australia (sorry Australia?)
She was smuggled out of Luna by Logan Tanner and taken in by Michelle Benoit until she was able to get someone (Garan) to take her. She has very vague memories of a redheaded girl that she used to play with
Adopted by Garan and Adri when she was about 4 years old
Lost part of her leg in the fire Levana started, but not her arm (prosthesis weren’t good during this time and I want her to still have a decent ability to fix things with her hands. This will also allow us to for sure have the “losing her foot” thing later.)
Going to America for better opportunities (Garan’s idea)
Prince Kaito
18
First class
Commonwealth Prince. Basically the same backstory. Mother died when he was young, etc etc. His dad IS alive for now
He will ALWAYS be a sass master, so be prepared for that.
Travelling to America on a political trip for his father’s engagement to Queen Levana
Scarlet Benoit
18
Third class
Started living with her grandmother when she was younger just like in the books. 
Lived on a farm outside Rieux but now moving to America because they couldn’t afford the land they owned anymore
Ze’ev (Wolf) Kesley
23
Third class (undercover. Is actually second class, working for Jael)
Was taken from his parents at age 12, just like in the books. Not turned into a mutant wolf soldier, but was trained as a spy/ soldier (still thinking on which) for Luna
Has been training/working under Jael since he was taken. This is his first mission out of the country.
“Officially” going to America to try making his way in boxing. Actually going to america to spy.befriend the benoit’s because they know the family has something to do with the lost princess.
Crescent Moon Darnel
16
First class
Still very shy and reserved. Spent most of her life sitting inside the house reading books and singing opera. On the rare occasion she went out, it was to go see an opera at the theater, then straight home. 
Travelling with her father who is the Royal Lunar Family’s personal doctor
Carswell Thorne
21
Third class
Was cut off from his family's fortune because of his poor behavior
he's the Jack Dawson basically--cons his way into tickets for the titanic, falls in love with Cress, ironically good at art (but there is no way in hell we’re having a “draw me like one of your french girls” scene with cress because she is fucking 16 and I do NOT condone that even though it was considered the norm during this time)
Heading back to America to try and get more money from his parents
Winter Hayle-Blackburn
18
First class
Stepdaughter to Queen Levana
Has some sort of mental disorder than no one understands what it is. It’s probably some form of PTSD because it started right after she found her father murdered in his room
Everyone says that she’s crazy, of course
Because of her “disease” she isn’t allowed out much and always has to have someone watching her. 9/10 times it’s Jacin because they’ve been friends since childhood 
Unfortunately engaged to Aimery Park. She doesn’t want to marry him, but because she’s crazy, they can’t marry her off for an alliance with another country. (Levana also wants to keep her close so she can make sure Winter is miserable)
Jacin Clay
19
Bodyguard to Princess Winter
Comes from a long line of people who worked for the Royal Family of Luna. Seriously goes back centuries. These people should have been lorded forever ago because of all they’ve done to keep the family safe.
Is very obviously in love with Winter, but is keeping his distance because she’s engaged and he doesn’t want her pig of a fiancee to hurt her because he gets too close
Iko 
17
Maid to the Linh family
She’s the only staff member the Linhs can afford due to declining social status. As such, she’s forced to take on more duties than a normal maid would. Cinder also helps her a lot of the time
Still Cinder’s best friend of course.
Queen Levana Blackburn
35
First class
Queen of Luna
Trying to gain control of Emperor Rikan’s throne through marriage. May or may not be slowly poisoning him so that he dies after she’s crowned empress
SECONDARY CHARACTERS
Emperor Rikan
53
Emperor of the Eastern Commonwealth
Wife died several months ago and was looking for a new one when Queen Levana expressed an interest. (It’s possible levana got someone to infect the Empress so that she could marry him)
Konn Torin
46
Personal adviser to Emperor Rikan
Sybil Mira
37
Personal adviser to Queen Levana.
Does a lot of Levana’s dirty work that requires stealth
Aimery Park
42
Duke of Artemisa
Another adviser to Queen Levana
Also does a lot of Levana’s dirty work, but is known more for the gruesome stuff
Garan Linh
49
Failing inventor. He sold a few prominent things years ago, but is no longer making money from them.
Adri Linh
38
Was once a prominent socialite (how she managed to marry an upcoming inventor) but is now seen as nothing but a has been. 
Pearl Linh 
17
Literally exactly how she is in the books. Mean and desperately trying to get Prince Kai’s attention
Peony Linh
14
Literally exactly how she is in the books. An angel and desperately trying to get Prince Kai’s attention.
Sage Darnel/ Dmitri Erland
64
Personal doctor to the Lunar Royal family
Cress was never taken from him, so he’s pretty content with his life.
He’s still that old man that likes to meddle in things that may or may not be his business though
Jael
41
A general/intelligence director of some kind
Wolf’s boss
Just as much as a dick as in the books
Michelle Benoit
63
Badass grand-mere. I feel like she’s kinda like Granny in Hoodwinked
Doesn’t officially go missing like in the books, but I feel like she does randomly disappear from time to time, making Scarlet wonder what the hell she’s up to 
Luc Benoit
39
Drunkard, managed to get a third class ticket somehow.
Scarlet doesn’t know he’s on board the ship
Emilie Monfort
19
Sort-of-best-friend to Scarlet. They’re not just friends, but they’re not best friends either. It’s a very strange middle ground. 
Ran Kesley
22
Also working for Jael like his brother, he’s not supposed to get involved unless Wolf slips up on his mission
Maha Kesley
52
I would love to include Maha in this somehow because she’s a literal badass, but I'm just not sure how it would fit. 
Darla
20
Literally just tagged along with Thorne because he had an extra ticket. She’ll be the human embodiment of the Rampion
Ryu
7
Princess Winter’s beloved Samoyed
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chapitre7 · 4 years
Text
Alexandria Chapter I
The Untamed [陈情令] | Mo Dao Zu Shi [魔道祖师] fanfiction
Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Yīng | Wei Wuxian (Wangxian)
Time Travel/Sci-Fi AU
Characterization is based on the drama
Canon does not exist. World building of the past is based on canon but none of the original events has transpired here;
Likewise, the future presented here is not our own;
Liberal use of cultivation;
Not actually any demonstration of science.
Read on AO3
“Have you always been alone? Did you ever have someone? Do you know what happened to you? Do you? Because I don’t. I don’t know what happened to me. I don’t know. I look in the mirror and the only thing that I recognize are these eyes in this old man’s face. You know, sometimes I think I was either born too early or too late for my life. Maybe we’re both just relics.” – The Shape of Water, 2017, screenplay by Guillermo del Toro & Vanessa Taylor
   When they find him, he’s already thawing. The researchers try to preserve him the best they can, so they can catalog every last piece of him, the period of his clothes, the shape of his face, the age of the ice, running their numbers to estimate the years since his last breath. They presume he’s a corpse, making only the most plausible assumptions, but his skin is unmarred and his complexion is so peaceful, he looks safely asleep. He’s a jewel kept in a box, unearthed from the deep sea, as treasures ought to be, in the olden days.
 There’s a small feud to decide who will keep him and in what manner. Some want to maintain him exactly as he is, like a pinned butterfly, listing all the outside layers of his identity, file away all the details they can perceive and then showcase him to the community by the end of the semester. Others want to be gone with the ice so they can study his body, uncovering the mysteries of a past they have long lost, before keeping him suspended in time by their own terms. Endless conferences, heated discussions, and piles of paperwork so huge no one bothers to read later, they decide to compromise.
 When he takes his first breath in the new age, everyone around him gasps. The sound bounces around his skull, dark eyes widening at the white, all the overwhelming white of the room he’s in. There are needles on him, prickling like insects, and just one glance at the glass wall where countless bug eyes spy on him from behind their notes sends him on a spiral of hysteria, pulling at everything that intrudes him, the machines, the foreign feeling of the sheets, the bed itself, jumping and falling from his position before trained men run inside, hold him down and knock him out.
 The second time he opens his eyes, he’s alone. There’s no glass wall, no machine attached to him, no window, just him, the bed, a chair, and two closed doors. He glances down at himself and frowns, failing to recognize the robes he’s wearing. Even if it’s in a familiar style and fabric, the stitches confuse him, unlike anything his sister has ever learned and sewn upon his clothes. And unlike any of the inner robes he owned, these are piercingly white. Maybe he’s in the afterlife. He had imagined it differently.
 A sound comes from one of the doors, startling him, but it’s only a knock. He half expects them to swarm in again, the bugs, the monsters, and he’s not ready, not yet, he doesn’t know where his sword is and he’s light-headed and breathing too fast, breaking every rule his master has ever taught him, defenseless, useless.
 They don’t come in. He waits, catches his breath, a hand on his chest. There’s nothing for a while until the second knock comes, softer than the first, less like a thunder. He didn’t use to be scared of thunder; maybe that’s why.
 He tries to speak, but only a weak, pitiful sound comes out. It seems to be enough for whoever, or whatever, is waiting on the other side of the door. He tries to brace himself the best he can — he can still bite, if that’s what it takes —, but he’s wholly unprepared for the smiling man that walks into his room.
 The man is tall, jet-black hair gracefully combed sideways, much, much shorter than he was used to seeing. His eyes are clear, hiding in the crescent moon of his smile, but not threatening. He knows threatening; would be able to spot it from miles away, still remembers the crawling feeling of fingers holding him down as he screamed. The man wears white, just like he does, only it’s a different, foreign style of robes. Did he somehow end up in a different land, drifting along the icy waters of the north?
 When the man speaks, he feels like he’s still underwater, miles from the surface. He can’t understand a single sound the man is making and it’s unsettling, an emptiness burning inside of his stomach. He vaguely remembers a time when he had meant to leave, get away from everything and everyone, he did, but not like this, nothing like this. The man steps into the room, towards the bed, and he throws himself to the floor, wincing at the pain on his knees, unable to do anything but push himself as far away as possible using the strength of his arms.
 Looking over his shoulder, he notices the man’s smile fading away. He places a tray he hadn’t noticed before on the bed and speaks some more, but when he gets no response, he just sighs and moves back to the door, walking out and leaving the confused man to his panic and his disarray of thoughts.
 Eventually, he moves back to the bed. Too tired to climb back up, he settles for a sitting position, reaching for the bowl on the tray the man had brought in. There’s nothing particularly enticing about the smell of the soup but he brings the bowl to his lips and downs it almost instantly, like a dying man. He coughs, not really chewing the vegetables, but doesn’t stop until the bowl is clean and back on the tray. Where the nothingness had once been is now warmth and he feels a little better about it, because maybe, just maybe, he’s not in a place to be judged and punished for whatever misdeed. Maybe he’s alive, after all.
 He lets his eyes draw back and sleeps right there on the floor, until the smiling man returns, gives the tray away to men who don’t cross the threshold into the room, and puts him back on the bed, safe under the covers. He never notices it. Never even dreams, just listens, every once in a while, to the hums that must consist of a language, like the birds that once sang in the homeland of his childhood.
 ***
 The smiling man is the only one he sees for a while. He grows used to him, his harmless presence, as he brings him food, watches him as he eats, guides him to stand and walk and even teaches him how to use the adjoined bathroom with a series of simple gestures, before bowing politely and leaving. When he’s alone, he tries to speak to himself, and not too long after, he’s glad to hear his own voice again. For a while he was afraid he would forget what his voice sounded like, his memory a haze of misplaced images and sounds, unsure if he could trust the voice of his own thoughts. He’s safe, though. He dares to feel safe, if only briefly.
 He doesn’t have any concept of time, but he knows one day the smiling man brings a needle connected to a small vial. Before he can run away, the man raises a hand, a plea for patience, and inserts the needle in his own arm, drawing blood into the vial. It’s not a lot of blood, and there’s no harm or mess when he’s done. The man raises his eyebrows in question. There’s so little to lose in the small action that he yields when the man pulls another needle from his robes.
 The act is not as gentle as the man made it seem and he winces. The man seems apologetic and the grip he has on his arm is feather light to compensate. It’s over quickly, cleanly, the man giving him a small cotton ball to hold against the minuscule wound. After the man leaves, he stares at the little drop of blood on the cotton ball and wonders when, exactly, he’s going to start living again. Wherever he is, in what possible way, and under whose glare, peering at him from outside those four white walls.
 He falls asleep with his gaze fixed on the wall across from his bed, knowing they’re still there. Waiting for him, crushing him with their expectations.
 ***
 The man who walks into his room next is not smiling. And although his eyes are just as clear as the other’s, the bangs that frame his face are longer, and his features are softer, with a less striking bone structure. He’s definitely younger, but the resemblance is so strong that there’s no way the two men aren’t related.
 “Ah,” he says from the bed, apprehensive that there’s nothing in the man’s hands but a small notebook, and he’s not sure what to expect when he sits on the chair by the bed. The unknown, in that white world, is nothing but white fear.
 “How do you feel?”
 He perks up immediately, leaning forward, causing the man to lean back on instinct.
 “I can understand you!”
 The man nods, crossing his legs.
 “And you can understand me?”
 The man gives a shorter nod.
 “Yes, I speak your language.”
 “Oh, thank the heavens, I was afraid I was going to be lost in here forever.”
 He lets out a laugh that sounds as weak as it feels, but he’s speaking again just as the man is opening his mouth.
 “I’m Wei Ying! What’s your name?”
 “I’m...”
  He pauses, as if he’s been questioned about the meaning of the breaking dawn and the fall of dusk. Wei Ying waits, expectantly, because he can understand, at last, and maybe the world isn’t going to be so white anymore.
 “I’m Lan Zhan,” the man finally answers, after what couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.
 “Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying repeats, testing, tasting the name.
 “Your turn.”
 “Huh?”
 “To answer. How do you feel?”
 “If I answer your questions, will you answer mine?”
 Lan Zhan looks up from his notes and Wei Ying feels like himself for the first time in what seems like a lifetime. Not scared, not cornered, not useless, but capable of speech again, something he had always been so naturally good at, and finally, finally he can attempt to turn the game board around, gain some ground, escape that terrifying prison of whispers.
 Only a noncommittal noise comes from Lan Zhan’s throat, and Wei Ying takes what he can get.
 “I feel well. I can finally walk, but not for long.”
 The man makes some notes, and Wei Ying, with fidgety fingers, adds, “It’d help if the food tasted better.”
 Lan Zhan’s strange brush seems to pause. In different circumstances, where he didn’t feel uneasy all the time, Wei Ying might have grinned.
 “What—”
 “No, it’s my turn. Where am I?”
  And when can I get out? is at the tip of his tongue.
 “You’re in a research facility.”
 Wei Ying frowns, fingers grasping at the sheets on his lap.
 “Why am I in a place of research? Why? Did something happen to me?”
 “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan calls, and the cadence of his voice when he calls his name grounds him where he would otherwise fall. But he’s at the edge of the precipice, and hanging by a thread. “What do you remember?”
 “What...?”
 He remembers the cold. He remembers wandering far and leaving people behind, cities, villages, everyone. He doesn’t remember why. His head hurts. He remembers desolation, and a plethora of knowledge that had no outlet and no meaning. He remembers leaping. And the cold, taking over, surrounding, pulling him deep.
 “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan calls again, and he can hear himself, his own shallow breaths. “It’s okay. Ca—”
 Wei Ying snaps, slaps away the hand that he sees coming in his direction. Lan Zhan, who sported a professional look ever since he came through the door, has the grace to look taken aback.
 “Tell me,” Wei Ying speaks, and it’s a voice he didn’t know he still possessed. He wishes he had left it behind, wherever those memories were from. “What happened to me?”
 Lan Zhan straightens his jaw, leans back against his chair.
 “You’ve been asleep for over a thousand years.”
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space-age-bachelor · 5 years
Note
I don’t know if you’re taking requests for it but if you are “I need some time” and the spy au please
Will didn’t know how he should feel about this. Connor hadn’t killed anyone, which was a positive. Someone strangled by a stethoscope in a hospital wasn’t a good look, but Connor apparently had experience transporting unconscious assassins without drawing attention to himself. Will hadn’t decided how he felt about that yet. They did drop the man off at the police station with a nice note. That at least seemed like a positive. 
He still didn’t feel real. Connor’s couch was soft under his fingers, the seam digging into his palm. He could hear the sporadic banging of his heel on the wood floor, but none of it felt real. It was like he’d just been watching a movie of himself since he walked in on Connor.
“Here.”
He jumped at the sound; but Connor was quick, moving the mug away before Will could knock it from his hands. His nerves were shot even though he’d never really been in danger. 
Danger of getting caught stopped counting when Connor took a gun and six knives from his unconscious assailant.
The drink was placed on the table. It wasn’t in a nice mug. For some reason Will had expected everything Connor owned to look high end. He was pretty sure he’d seen it on display in some nerdy shop in the mall. The place where he and Maggie got Gryffindor sweatshirts for their Ron and Hermione Halloween costumes. He hadn’t realized Connor was into that type of stuff. Not that there was anything wrong with that. He just hadn’t expected Connor to have a sci-fi joke mug. 
Of course, Will also hadn’t expected Connor to strangle someone with his stethoscope.
“It’s hot apple cider. Some people swear by tea, but this is my comfort drink,” Connor sat down next to him, but not too close. He probably didn’t want to crowd him, which was nice, but Will could’ve used the comfort.
He took a sip of the cider. It was comforting enough, warming him up from the inside out. The heat was a tangible reminder that he was real and made the movie feeling fade away. Probably why Connor gave it to him. Instead of putting it down, he held it to his chest, anything to keep him present. 
Connor turned to face him, his knees shifting closer, but still not touching Will, “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay. You shouldn’t be after what you just went through. But, please, just tell me what’s going on in your head. I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t do that,” he shot back without really meaning to. His voice didn’t sound right, just slightly too loud, or maybe the room was just too quiet.
“Do what?”
He put the mug back on the table, clinging to it would ruin his point, “Take care of me and be all nice. You’re some kind of super-spy-assassin; you can’t just turn back into Connor.”
It took a second for him to respond, “Will, I’m still me. I haven’t been pretending to be some completely different person? I still care about you. We’re friends.”
Will didn’t want to look over at him. He already knew exactly what face Connor was making. He had a standard expression for emotional moments. It was as though he could let you read his mind if he just opened his eyes wide enough. The only difference now was that he’d have a bruised nose and a split lip. Will couldn’t let himself get sidetracked by the familiarity. 
“Why are you at Med?” 
“I’m sorry?”
He kept staring at the mug, “Why did you come to Med?”
Connor shifted so he was facing forward, his knees moving back to their safe distance. 
For a minute or so, Will thought Connor wasn’t going to answer. If Connor had been on some secret mission to spy on someone from Med, he wouldn’t be able to tell him. Maybe it was all just classified, or it wasn’t and Connor would just use the phrase to keep Will in the dark.
But when Connor finally spoke, he answered. “I didn’t have a choice. Someone figured out who I was. I don’t know how, but they got a hold of my file. So, they sent me home, left me at the airport without a word, and made it look like I never worked for them. Operations Officer Connor Rhodes never existed.”
Will knew he was telling the truth. Connor might have been a professional liar, but he sounded so broken and just hopeless. It was the same tone he had when he lost a patient or saw someone in the ED, but nothing he said would make them feel any better. 
But Will was in that same position. He couldn’t help Connor get his job back, or protect him from killers. He didn’t have any answers. All he could really do was be there. Connor had been completely cut off from his life and anyone he was close to before returning to Chicago. Will wouldn’t let him lose another friend.
“Thanks for telling me,” he leaned a little closer, bumping Connor’s shoulder. 
He went with it, exaggerating his movements and recoiling back into Will, just barely leaning into his side, “Thanks for not freaking out.”
“Oh no, I’m freaking out,” Will confessed, “This apple cider is the only reason I haven’t gone completely into shock, but I’m not going anywhere. I mean, my first instinct was to help you hide a body. I didn’t realize he was alive until you restrained him; but at that point, I’d already decided.” 
Connor smiled, but it was small and lacked any of the confidence Will had grown used to, “So, we’re okay?”
In a broad sense, the answer was no. Someone had just attacked Connor because he was an ex-spy, they didn’t know if anyone else was gonna come from him, and Will was now tied up in this. He still trusted Connor, that wasn’t even a question; but neither of them were in any shape to have a serious conversation about what came next. By most standards, they were the opposite of okay.
But that wasn’t what Connor meant.
“I don’t know,” Will sank into the couch and looked over at him. He looked the same as he always did, albeit slightly more injured, but Will couldn’t see him in the same light. He was used to Connor Rhodes the doctor, not Connor Rhodes the spy.
“I need some time to process all of this. We can’t just act like this isn’t going to change anything. I don’t know you. Sure, you’re Connor Rhodes; but I don’t know what that means anymore.” 
He nodded, chewing on his lip until he was able to give him a worried smile, “Do you want to start over?”
Will almost laughed, only Connor could say something that ridiculous and be completely genuine, “No, I want you to stop lying to me so I can get to know you better. We’re not starting over, just moving forward.”
“Alright,” Connor finally sat back, relaxing next to Will. He held out his fist for him to bump, “To moving forward.”
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hanniiesuckle17 · 5 years
Text
Spinning Secrets
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A/n: Not requested but requests are open. THERE ARE NO JHOPE SPIDERMAN AUS WTF GUYS
Member: Jung Hoseok (J-Hope)
WARNINGS: Swearing, partial nudity
Summary: Growing up in the bustling city of New York, you aren’t usually used to knowing your neighbors. However, the boy in the apartment above you quickly became your best friend all the way up until your junior year of high school. After spending a summer away from the city, you come back to find your best friend, Hoseok, completely different. He became more muscular and started to become distant to you. You are trying to keep the friendship alive, but your feelings for him are getting in the way and he keeps avoiding you.
Genre: superhero!au, spiderman!au, fluff, comedy?, little bit of angst
My camera slung around my neck as I shouldered my backpack. The late summer breeze blew through my hair as I climbed out my window onto the fire escape. I climbed the stairs until I reached the floor above mine. Not surprising the window opened when I pulled and I climbed into the room.
“Hobi?” When we were little one of us would use the fire escape to see the other late at night after our parents had gone to bed. Now it was just habit to keep our windows unlocked. His room looked the same as before I left for the summer except for the fact that their was this weird metal briefcase lying on his unmade bed. His camera still sat on his desk next to his laptop. We joined the photography club together freshman year. Last year we both got offered internships at a small local newspaper but he turned it down saying he wanted to focus on the schools website. He was always better at the tech stuff than I was.
I smiled looking down at the camera, happy he at least was still doing photography. A lot had changed since I got back. Hoseok didn’t seem to ever have enough time for me anymore. But, that didn’t stop me from trying to keep our friendship alive. If I couldn’t work up the courage to tell him how I felt then I should at least work my ass off to keep our friendship.
“Y/n? What the hell! Give me some warning!” My head turned to see Hoseok walk in wearing only a towel around his waist. Laughing, I went to his dresser and chucked a pair of sweats at him. My eyes quickly allowed themselves to scan his body before I turned around. Apparently more than I thought had changed. I didn’t remember my best friend looking like that. 
“Hey, I got a tip down from the paper. You know the guys that Spiderman busted doing that robbery a couple weeks ago?  They had those freaky weapons. Well some anonymous guy called in a tip about a deal going down in Hunts Point.” The shuffling of fabric stopped and I turned around to face him. “Hunts Point? Wow, that means all that crap goes deeper than the cops let on.” He sat down on his bed and ran a hand through his still wet hair. I plopped down next to him and the scent of his shampoo immediately became present. The familiar and distinct smell of mint.
“You wanna go with me? I might catch Spiderman.” I wiggled my camera next to my face with a knowing smile. His face shifted. “Y/n, you can’t go to Hunts Point.” “Why not?” He stood up in front of me. “Because, you could get killed or.....you aren’t going, Y/n.” He started to raise his voice at me, something he never did before. “Well you made you King Shit of Fuck Mountain?” “What?”
“You heard me! Hoseok after ignoring me countless times these past few weeks, the least you could do is spend time with me even if it means getting killed in an alley somewhere! I left for the summer and when I came back I apparently lost the person I cared about most! I don’t want to lose you as my best friend too.”
Silence filled the room as he tried to understand what I just said. His phone started ringing from across the room. Crossing he looked at the screen and sighed running his fingers through his hair before looking at me. “It’s my internship....I have to pick up, Y/n.” Scoffing, I picked up my camera. “Forget it, Hobi.” My shoulder brushed his as I climbed back out his window. This time I descended down to the street and hailed a cab to Hunts Point.
It had been two hours and finally the tip came through. I had hid out on a rooftop of a convenience store waiting for something to show up. The three guys that had been smoking out front suddenly went into the alley to meet a blue van that had just pulled up. Quickly I crouched down and pulled out my camera. The deal was as the tipper said. I snapped shots as two other guys brought out a couple of weird looking weapons.
“I’m gonna need a demo if you askin me to pay that much, man.” The guy nodded and put on one of the gloves and pressed a button on the wrist. Pink electricity shot from his fingertips and grabbed onto a trash can near by and flung it into the wall hard enough the flatten it.
“Holy fuck balls.” I whispered. Regretting it, I clasped a hand over my mouth. I saw all five pairs of eyes look up to me. Suddenly, I was wrapped up in the electric tendrils and thrown onto the ground. “Bro you said this was a closed deal! We’re outta here!” The three men sprinted away from the alley but the other two just stared at me. I had slammed my head against the ground kind of hard and I felt something wet on my forehead.
“Well, well, well. Look at this little bird. Such a pretty thing spying on us.” He made a motion with his hand and the electricity shot out and grabbed me by the neck, bringing me in front of him by the van. My hands struggled against the coils of energy.
"What should we do with her, Jay?" The man behind him said. His finger came up to my cheek and I kicked and tried to scream. "Why don't we teach her a lesson?" Suddenly his head was thrown against the side of the vehicle and I was on the ground.
"Teach her a lesson? In what dancing?" I gasped for air and looked up to find a man, maybe boy, in a red and blue suit standing on top of the dumpster. "You sir, don't look like a dancer." He hopped off the trash bin with out a sound and landed gracefully.
"Spiderman?" I breathed out. His masked fork turned towards me on the ground. "Oh, hey Y/-----regular civilian." The masked hero scratched the back of his neck and from his voice it sounded like he was laughing. Suddenly a fist flew across his cheek, stunning him.
"Ow. Hey you know violence never solves anything!" He put his hands up like a surrender catching the guy off guard. "Then again it was my pre-K teacher who said that so screw her." His foot met the man's face so fast I almost didn't see it. Next his fingers went to his own wrist and a strong of web shot out and wrapped itself around the guy's chest. With a swift yank, he pulled the criminal straight into his fist, knocking him out.
"Rocky ain't got nothing on me bitch! Wanna go!" He started prancing around like the boxing figure from the film. "Watch out!" I managed to scream before a blast was fired at the Spiderman. He jumped out of the way as the electrical blast fired but his arm got grazed, breaking the fabric of the suit and burning his skin.
He fell to the ground clutching his arm. Seeing a chance I grabbed a pipe laying on the ground and wacked the guy in the face. It didn't do much as he didnt drop the weapon or crumple like they did in the movies.
"Have to say that wasn't my best idea." I said gulping as the man appeared to grow a few feet taller. At least to me in my cowering state of fear and embarrassment. He raised the weapon up to me about to fire when a web wrapped around it, pulling it into Spiderman's hands.
"Nice cap gun! Can I try?" He fired it at the mans stomach launching him into the brick wall behind me. "Can't get that at Party City." He said simply. Chucking the gun onto the street. He shot a large web against the guy keeping him trapped. He then lifted the other guy up and webbed him to the dumpster.
"Something's not right." He stood looking at the man. There was something about his voice that was just so familiar. And his attitude. It was on the tip of my tongue. "You got a pen, Princess?" Wait. No. I was just overthinking it.
I just had a fight with him. Of course he's still on my mind. I would connect the launching of Sputnik with him right now. "Uhhh yeah." I grabbed the sharpie from my pocket and he uncapped it walking over to the unconscious man. The hero who saved my life then proceeded to draw a dick on the man's forehead. "Much better!"
"What are you four?" He turned to look at me and I could tell he was smiling through the mask. "Where did you get that face? The ugly store?" He said in a whing voice, but a laugh came out at the end. It stopped when I raised my fist in warning. I grabbed hold of my camera which thankfully was still around my neck, and started taking pictures.
"What are you doing?" He said warily. "Proof. Say cheese." "I'm vegan." "Say tofu I don't give a shit." He held up a peace sign and you could see the two guys in the background of the picture. "Hey it's getting dark. This isn't a nice part of town. I'll take you home." A web sprouted from his wrist up to the roof and pulled down my bag. Holding out his hand to me he said, "117 ××××××××× St. Right?" Hesitantly, I took my bag.
"How did you know that?" He started to stutter and reached for the back of his neck again. "Uh- umm- I- I'm just your friendly neighborhood Spiderman. I see everything eventually." I nodded still not buying the excuse. "Come on." He held his covered hand out to me once more. This time I took it.
Before I knew it I was pulled very close to the strange person and swinging by web through the New York city skyline. However that wasn't what I noticed first. A familiar scent of mint was coming off the masked hero who held my waist tightly. Soon, he dropped me onto my fire escape.
"Come in for a sec. I want to give you something!" I said to him before climbing in my window. He cautiously followed and waited in my room while I grabbed a bandage and antiseptic spray from the bathroom. "Who's this?" He said pointing to my laptop screen. The background was a picture I had taken of Hoseok about a year ago. I would never tell him, but ever since I realized I loved him more as a person I craved to be with, I found myself taking pictures of him. That was my favorite. He was sitting on the fire escape and looking up at me with his bright smile. The one where his eyes looked like they were laughing. A smile I hadn’t really seen since I got back. The picture reminded me of the Hoseok I fell in love with.
“Oh. Umm...that’s just this boy I’ve had a crush on forever. It doesn’t matter though.” I said sighing and setting the bandages on the bed. “What?!” The masked hero turned to me. I couldn’t see his face, but his voiced was filled with shock. “Uh- I-I mean- Wait. Why doesn’t it matter? I’m sure he likes you back.” Spiderman messed with the frayed edges of my jean jacket resting on the chair. “No. He doesn’t besides he isn’t the boy I fell in love with anymore.” I sat on the bed staring at the superhero.
“You are in love with him?” For some reason his words came out breathy. I just assumed the action of kicking two guys’ asses was just now catching up to him. “Was.” I got up and moved in front of the man child hero. “Now sit. Let me take care of your arm!” He pushed me away gently. “Don’t worry about me, princess. It’ll be a scar by tonight. Perks of being superhuman.” That name. Was it?
“No more being heroic without me okay!” He called as he climbed out my window, swinging into the night. I heard a small crash and cars honking before I heard the voice of the Spiderman yelling, “SORRY!”
Did he really think I wouldn’t notice. He really wasn’t the boy I fell in love with. Pulling out my phone, I sent him a text.
Hobi, r u home? something cool happened!
No, sry princess im out getting groceries for Aunt May
its fine. ill tell u tmrw
I sighed, this confirming my theory. I threw my phone onto my bed and headed out onto the fire escape.
The window of Hoseok’s room slid open about three in the morning. The room was dark and I heard shuffling around in the space. “You grab milk when you were out?” I said from his desk chair. “HOLY FUCK DEMONS BEWARE!” I turned on the desk light to see Hoseok on top of his bed with his fists up. “Y/n? What the hell!” I looked to the red and blue fabric on his bedroom floor. He then realized he stood in only his underwear in front of me. Then he realized his suit lay obviously on the floor in plain sight for me to see.
“Okay, Y/n. It’s not what you think.” My arms crossed over my chest. “Let me get dressed and I’ll tell you all about it.” He started to move towards the closet but I moved my leg to block the closet. By the look on my face he knew not to piss me off right now. Even with him all bulked up he knew I could still kick his mother fucking ass.
“I was- uh-uhhh-It was Jungkook’s fault.” He said scratching the back of his neck. I raised my eyebrow at him and he sat down on the bed. “He wanted to go to this cosplay party- contest......whats it called?” “Convention?” “Yeah. And he wanted to be Iron Man and didn’t have a Spiderman, so I was like shit yeah I’ll go with you! I don’t have anything to do tonight. WAIT NO. That’s not what I meant. I mean I said that the other day. You know when he asked me to go to the event which was tonight.......”
I sat in silence just staring at my best friend expressionless. “I thought we were friends, Hobi.” He looked distressed. “Y/n we are. You mean the world to me, princess.” I shook my head and stood from the chair. “You would tell me the truth if I did.” I started to go out the window, but was pulled back into the room. Before I could turn and say something, his lips were pressed against mine. Hoseok’s hand gripped my wrist and the other went to my cheek.
My hand went to his cheek and the sound of the slap filled the room. He just looked down clearly ashamed. “If I didn’t know already, now I do. He was the only one I told.” With that I left the room and climbed back down to my apartment.
The next morning my phone had forty two messages from Hoseok and eighteen missed calls. I avoided Hobi for the rest of the week. I heard him leave the fire escape each night and saw him swing building to building. Part of me wanted to forgive him. I could see why he didn’t tell me. Every second that part of me wanted to run back up to his room and apologize and just let him hold me. Hoseok was always the emotional one when it came to the two of us. I hadn’t cried since I was six and my mom left, and it felt like Hobi cried every other day for a little puppy in the street or something.
I hadn’t slept for three days. Not for lack of trying. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I was proud of him. He was saving lives and didn’t even want anyone to know he did it. But, that was Hobi. “Fuck.” I felt a tear slip down my cheek. Wiping it away quickly I turned over and got up from my bed only to see a slim form climbing through my window. He was dressed in the suit, but the mask was in his hand. His dark hair was sweaty and framed his forehead.
“Oh shit. Y/n.” He instantly crossed to me, taking me into his arms. I didn’t fight it. I just let him hold onto me, hoping I wasn’t still crying. “I’m sorry I was an asshole.” He whispered. “Will you be more specific? You are an asshole most days of the week.”
“Wow! Exposed.” I turned to see THE Iron Man sitting on my fire escape. “Hoseok what the hell!?” The Tony Stark was sitting there watching me cry. “Sorry didn’t mean to interrupt. Actually yeah I did.” Hoseok kept his arms loosely around me. “Mr. Stark could you give us a sec?” He said it so casually as if this was a normal Tuesday. Stark sighed and then flew off.
“That was Tony Stark.” “Yeah.” “You know Tony Stark.” “Yeah.” “Jungkook is going to brutally murder you in your sleep if he ever finds out.” He nodded with a smile. I looked down not ready to handle the silence that followed. His covered hand brought my chin up to look at him. “A little spider told me that you were in love with me.”
“Really, you talk to spiders?” “Y/n I was trying to be cheeky like in the movies.” “You should stop that now.” “Okay.” I laughed and that feeling I got in my stomach when he smiled came back. “Do you love me?” He asked, his tone serious. “Hoseok. I have loved you before you were a super-spider. And I will love you long after everyone forgets why you are the most selfless and humble hero there is.” He smiled and I could see his eyes tear up. I wiped away the single one that fell.
“You can’t cry, okay? You have to go be SpiderBoy.” He laughed and his thumbs rubbed patterns on my waist. Slowly he leaned down and placed a kiss on my lips. It didn’t feel desperate like the one in his room. It was slow. Sweet. The kind where you forget that you even need air. The kind that made me want to never kiss another man the rest of my life. Happily I let him take the lead, involuntarily melting into his arms. My fingers tangled themselves in his dark locks.
He had a sharp intake of breath at this action and deepened the kiss, hands moving beneath the fabric of my shirt to feel the skin of my waist. I pulled away to look into his eyes. “I love you.” The biggest smile came onto my face. “You say more things like that I’ll have to keep you to myself all night.” “That I wouldn’t mind.”
“I would.” We both turned to find Tony back on the fire escape motioning for Hoseok to follow him. I pushed him towards the window and Mr. Stark left my sight. Hoseok turned to me as he stepped out on to railing.
“Keep your window open for me, princess?”
“When is it closed?”
Masterlist
102 notes · View notes
walkerduchess · 5 years
Text
A Game of Hearts - Chapter Eight: Suited (The Royal Romance AU)
Pairing: Drake x MC [Liam x MC]
Notes: Not very much happens in this chapter, yet somehow it was extremely hard for me to write. I hope you like it though, and I’ll try my best to have next chapter out faster. As always, please tell me what you think!
I do not own these characters, they belong to Pixelberry.
Summary: Princess Sapphire learns more about the stranger travelling with them.
Word Count: 3576
Tagging: I’m tagging everyone who asked me to. If you want in or out the list just let me know!  @confessionsofabrokegirl​, @museofbooks​, @stopforamoment​, @scarlettedragon-deactivated2019​, @annekebbphotography​, @queenodysseia​
Prologue: Promised
Chapter One: Unveiled
Chapter Two: Tied
Chapter Three: Acknowledged
Chapter Four: Disarmed
Chapter Five: Gone
Chapter Six: Unbarred
Chapter Seven: Assisted
Chapter Eight: Suited
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It seems as though Aurelia has forgotten how to breathe. She blinks slowly, trying to calm herself and not give any suspicious sign to the man in front of her, who apparently has no clue she is both people he’s looking for.
She decided not to dwell in the subject for another minute, smoothly pretending to be impressed with the heaviness of his task while using it as an excuse to make him leave them. However, each one of the princess’ arguments were readily dismissed by the newcomer. At some point she even started to worry whether he actually knows something about her to not want to leave her side, but she thought it was best to stay safe and keep on going as if nothing is happening. Perhaps he would grow tired of the kids at some point and leave, hopefully.
The sun is already out and moving up in the sky when they finally stop walking again. It appears they are distant enough from the men they left knocked out. The children are playing quietly in a shadowed spot in the yellow grass, with Jonah watching, while the dark haired man prepares a chicken for their lunch. Thanks to the rain, they have enough water to last a couple of days, as well as the remaining chickens to survive.
Aurelia sits close to the man, watching him work in silence.
“I see you still have some suspicions about me.” He says, without looking at her, as he continues to clean the dead chicken with a dagger.
She’s a little annoyed by his - correct - remark. “Can you blame me?”
He places the chicken on the rock he’s using as a table and turns to face her, wiping his hands in his trousers. But instead of replying, he crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows.
She takes the cue to keep on talking. “So apparently you are what - a soldier from the North - on this important rescue mission and you decide to stroll down south with a woman you never saw and her child siblings.” She glares at him. “Forgive me if that sounds suspicious to me, Dragomir” Even his name sounds made up.
“Yeah, well…” He seems to be weighing his words. “I have my reasons but I don’t suppose you’d understand.”
That last line gets her outright offended. “Excuse me?” She furrows her brows. Some small part of her mind screams at her to just leave it be, since she actually is trying to pass as a simple young woman caring for her siblings. Unfortunately, the bigger part of her mind is too curious to not want to know something.
His brows shoot up, he clearly wasn’t expecting her reaction.
Aurelia quickly lets go of her demanding attitude. “Sorry, I just… I’m just saying I can understand better than you think.” Despite the apology, her voice comes out rispid. She curses herself internally, looking down. So much for not drawing attention to herself.
“Fine.” His voice makes her head shift back up. “I’ll tell you if it’ll give you some peace of mind.”
She raises her eyebrows and he resumes working on the chicken, as he begins speaking.
“Firstly, I am not a soldier. Secondly, the princess can be anywhere, so it’s best if I don’t just hurry down south and miss something important. And lastly, what I’ve previously said; it’s safer to travel with company.”
The man is short on his words, but Aurelia listens mindfully. So, he is not a soldier. Who is he, then? He moves and speaks in the way a holder would, but she never heard of any Lord Dragomir. She would have known… right?
“What do you mean, the princess can be anywhere?” She fears she’s pushing her luck but she is unable to resist the urge to know what has happened ever since she left.
He looks at her again. “Well, we all know the South admitted they abducted Princess Sapphire… but a northern spy confirmed she is not in the city. So, they must be hiding her somewhere else. Anywhere else.” He seems to wander in thoughts a little, gazing at the landscape surrounding them. She wants to ask a million more questions. It makes sense, though, the South taking responsibility for her disappearing. This way they have some leverage.
“What do they want in exchange for the princess?”
“The North’s surrender.” Dragomir replies, eyes still unfocused.
“But they won’t do that.” It isn’t a question. Aurelia knows the North has no interest in stopping the war, it is what keeps them alive, literally.
The man gives her a puzzled look, before a somber expression takes over his features. “No, they won’t.” He stays silent for a moment and then turns his attention back to the chicken. She wonders if he knows what happens there too. Who is this man?
It’s been almost two years since her father took her to the undercroft and showed her what their kingdom has to do to survive. He wouldn’t discuss it further with her, and she didn’t have her mother anymore. She wanted to tell Max so many times, at least just to be able to share her feelings, to feel understood. She knew Max would keep her secret, but it would kill him. After his parents died, he was never the same. This truth would only eat him, little by little, from inside out until there was nothing left.
No, she always believed she was strong enough to keep it within herself, even if it led her to tears in the solitude of her chamber, night after night. She could talk to Liam about it, but somehow she always ended up feeling even worse. She felt too much, and Liam was ever so tempered and had too much hope on them. On her. She couldn’t help but feel like an impostor when talking to him. Was she really the princess of the prophecy? Could her ancestors have been wrong? So, at one point, she didn’t talk to him about it anymore. He seemed to cope with it better than her, anyway. Maybe he had someone to talk to.
She remember those days very well, feeling dread, guilty, impotent, hopeless and lonely. And after a while, the pain turned into anger. And that anger fueled her life and her actions, making her see only one way to right the wrong - a way in which her own kingdom would pay the price. It was only fair, right?
Until Hana. The girl’s reappearance in her life came in a moment when she had all those dark secrets piling up inside her. But she wasn’t scared and she didn’t push the princess away. Their time of planning together was little, yet enough for her to find a new perspective, sharing and learning with a true friend.
“This is it.” Hana declares, shifting her eyes from the stretched square of paper on the table until they rest on the princess’ face. “Can you build it?”
Elia’s eyes scan carefully the schematics on the paper one more time before meeting her friend’s gaze, a shy smirk on her lips. “They don’t call me the Builder for nothing.”
Her friend smiles back. “Should we name it?”
The princess presses her lips together, in thought. “Maybe we just call it the Device. Unless you want a very scientific name.”
“Oh, please no.” The girl’s voice is pained, though she has a smile on her lips. “I’m so done of hearing words such as ‘enhanced’, ‘ultraviolet’, ‘fusion’ or whatever else you used to explain to me a million times.”
Elia laughs, but it doesn’t last long once the realization that she should soon part from her friend dawned upon her.
She doesn’t need to say a word for Hana to read her mind through her eyes. “I wish I could go with you.” She voices both of the women’s feelings.
The princess smiles sadly. “I wish that, too. Can’t you stay longer?”
Hana sighs. “I’ve already been gone from the south too long. If I don’t report back to Queen Madeline soon, she’ll cut my head off as soon as I step in the city.”
Elia nods silently, telling herself in her mind that she will see her friend again, and it won’t have to be in secret. Maybe if she repeats it enough she will finally believe it.
“So, you do what you got to do now.” Hana affirms, once they’re out of the castle.
The princess did not expect her eyes would be filled with tears in this moment, and she’s glad she is wearing her hooded cloak to make her feel a little less vulnerable. “Yes… You’ll know when I leave the north.” She asserts, knowing very well that the news of the Promised Princess’ disappearance will travel fast.
“I will.” Her friend smiles. “And in the right time, I’ll wait for you in the south just outside the city limits every first hour in the morning.”
Elia swallows, in a last attempt to refrain her tears from falling. “I’ll try not to make you wait too long.” Before Hana can say anything else, the princess evelops her in a hug. “I’ll miss you.”
“Me too.” Her friend reciprocates the embrace, before steadying herself. “Farewell, my friend.” With that, she turns around and leaves.
It’s been a couple of days travelling with the stranger. Well, maybe not so much of a stranger now that Aurelia knows not only his name, but also where he’s from and what he’s doing. She’s decided to keep as quiet as she could, only talking to him when needed, as to try and hide her annoyance at his adamancy in keeping them company. It’s not like it’s a hard task, since the man is even more reserved than herself. At least he’s proven to be good at hunting, having caught two rabbits with the traps he’d laid so far. And he offers to keep watch while they sleep in an open area, so it’s not just her and Jonah taking shifts in days like these, when they’re travelling through the woods. She will never admit it out loud, but some part of her mind tells her that maybe he is actually a valuable travelling companion. Maybe that is why she is annoyed too.
Jonah is almost as suspicious as herself, but over the last day she has caught the boy glancing furtively at the man whenever he’s practicing the moves with his sword. It’s clear he is trying to hide it, but Aurelia knows better than to misjudge the admiration in his eyes. Now that she thinks about it, ever since they met Dragomir, the boy didn’t take his sword out once for practicing moves. It makes her feel somewhat guilty. She’s been so preoccupied with survival and with the Device that she never offered to give Jonah sword lessons. He would like it very much, she believes.
Eleonora must have taken on the princess’ sentiment, for the girl remained by her side almost all times, quiet as well, helping her in finding and collecting some edible vegetables along the way. Aurelia is stunned at how greener these parts are, and the woods get dense too, with plants and even trees.
The only problem is Elliot. The little boy talks way too much, and has taken an exceptional interest in the dark haired man. He is constantly following and asking Dragomir a million questions. The princess believed the often restrained man would be quickly annoyed at the six year old’s unrequested interactions but, much to her amazement, he seems to enjoy them. One more reason they need to be careful.
A couple of hours before evening arrives again, they settle on a clearing and start putting up their improvised tents - at least that’s something she taught them, not Dragomir. Is she jealous of his abilities? She shoves the thought out of her mind before it can bruise her ego.
“Elliot, come here.” She takes the boy by the hand and leads him far enough so they are not heard.
She sits on the grass and pats the spot beside her so he sits with her.
“You cannot tell Dragomir about the Device. Or who I really am. Do you understand that?” She looks right into his eyes, making sure he follows.
“I do, but why?”
“We don’t know him well. We can’t trust him.”
“But I like him! He saved me! And he got us chickens and rabbits.” He pouts a little, staring at her.
“What is that now?” She drops her jaw, pretending to be offended. “I’ve been getting you food for many days, and I never got this kind of recognition.” Elliot only shrugs, his usual playful smirk on his face. She smiles and tickles the boy in his sides, which makes him instantly start laughing.
After a while, the princess lets him catch his breath. “So, can we agree to not tell him anything? At least until I make sure he’s good for real.”
He seems to think a bit before nodding. “Okay.” His big blue eyes are attentive, and despite his age, she feels he truly understands. She prays she’s right, otherwise this little boy can get them in serious trouble.
The princess lets him go to play with Eleonora, knowing very well Jonah will be overlooking them, so she decides to take some time to treat herself while there’s still daylight. She takes a book from her bag, one of the few she took from the old church, and settles under a big tree, resting her back on its trunk. She reads the title on the book’s worn out cover “Out of the Silent Planet” and that familiar thrill of starting a new book causes an involuntary hint of a smile to her lips.
Her amused look doesn’t slip past the dark haired man’s attention, and before Aurelia notices, he is sliding down to sit next to her. “What’s special about this book?” He gazes between her and the book.
A crease forms in between her brows when she looks back at him. She can almost feel a snarky remark begin to form in her lips, but for some reason she is not annoyed at him for joining her uninvited. It is actually somewhat comforting to have someone close to her age to talk to, so she decides on being nice this time, despite her suspicions and fears. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, you looked quite pleased upon just looking at it.”
She smiles before looking down at the book again. “Every book is special.”
“And what’s special about this one?” He extends his hand and Aurelia places the book in it, their fingers brushing slightly. Although his hands look strong, it feels softer than she had imagined.
“I don’t know, I haven’t read it yet.”
He resumes his inspection of the book cover to stare at her with thoughtful eyes for a while, returning the object to her hands. “Where do you get your books from?”
His question makes her feel a bit nervous and scared of whether he suspects she spends several hours of her days in the larger - and only - library of Cordonia. Well, not anymore, she doesn’t.
“Oh, you know… along the way.” She manages to make herself sound untroubled. “This one I found in the ruins of an old church, some days ago.”
The man nods. “Have you been on the road for long?”
His sudden interest in her catches the princess unguarded. “So, someone decided to be chatty today.” She chooses to try and change the focus of the conversation.
“Well, it’s a long way south so…” He doesn’t have to finish for her to understand. It’s not like they can avoid each other for weeks, so they had no reason not to be friendly, at least that he knows of.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
She could hold back her curiosity only up to a certain extent. “This whole… rescue and kill mission. I mean, if you’re not a northern soldier then why are you doing this?” She pauses for a moment, considering options in her head. “Are you a spy?”
Still facing her, he laughs genuinely at her suggestion. It takes her aback for a moment, she’s pretty sure it’s the first time she witnesses this man laugh. “No, I’m not a spy.” He still has a grin on his face when he speaks and she mentally reprimands herself for noticing how attractive he looks when he’s smiling like that.
After a moment his smile fades and his gaze unfocus. “I don’t really have to do this.” He takes a deep, long breath, as if he’s mulling over his own reply. “It’s just something I’m supposed to do.”
Her eyes study him while she ponders his words. “Supposed to?” Aurelia, more than anyone, knows how it feels. Like you are tied to whatever it is others expect from you. “So you don’t want it.” She dares to assume.
“It doesn’t matter what I want.”
“Of course it does. You always have a choice.”
He chuckles, incredulous at her. “Almost no one in this world have a choice. And I, certainly, am as far as one can be from being one of them.”
“Well, that’s not how I fathom it.” There’s a newfound softness in her voice
His gaze is deep on her before moving to the book in her hands. Something about his eyes change and a corner of his mouth pulls up in an unforeseen smirk. “So you’re not supposed to be reading books while you travel, I guess?” He changes the tone of the conversation as smoothly as someone who’s spent years doing that.
She feels as if she was finally being able to peek through the slight opening of a door to have it suddenly shut in her face. Almost seeing the man behind the stoic exterior until he put the barrier back up.
She lets him have it, forcing a smile and following along with the mood he’s shifted to. “Reading gives you a new amplitude of perspective, you know.”
“So is that where you get your rebellious convictions from?” He retorts in the same teasing tone.
“Rebellious?” She laughs. “Do you take me for dangerous, then?”
She stares at him, waiting for him to answer, yet he stays silent, eyes glued to hers. She doesn’t know how much time passes, only that she starts being tortuously aware of how close they’ve gotten, despite still sitting side by side, and how warm his arm feels against her own. It’s a good feeling, and she bites her lower lip to keep her somehow grounded.
The man clears his throat, bringing them both out of their stupor. “I’ll go light up a fire, it will be dark soon.”
He hurriedly gets up and leaves without giving her a chance to say anything else.
-
On the next morning, Aurelia is packing their stuff while watching the kids playing. The sunny day lights up her mood so she’s not annoyed to be doing the task all by herself. It’s not like she would ever let Dragomir pack her stuff and risk him finding the Device, anyway.
Jonah is sitting on the grass, watching the man practice with his sword, while holding his own on his lap. The princess watches carefully as the man suddenly stops and points his sword to the teenager. “Care for joining?”
The boy opens his mouth but is incapable of forming any words. Dragomir simply walks up to him and offers him his other hand, pulling Jonah from the ground. Soon enough they are sparring, with Dragomir mostly studying the boy’s moves to correct them or advise him.
Aurelia smiles to herself at the scene. Eleonora and Elliot stop whatever it is that they were doing and go stand near where the two of them are practicing.
Aurelia then shifts her focus to the task at hand and resumes packing their things. When she’s almost done, she allows herself to get distracted and listens to a bit of the conversation happening across from where she stands. The boys have stopped sparring and the kids are all around the dark haired man.
“Your name is weird!” Elliot squirms.
“Lott, you don’t say that to people.” Eleonora readily berates him, causing Aurelia to chuckle to herself.
“It’s fine.” The man’s voice doesn’t sound offended, but rather lighthearted.“It is weird indeed. You can call me Drake, if you want.”
“Don’t you mind children calling you by your short name?” Eleonora voices her curiosity, and there’s some unusual cheerfulness in the girl’s voice. Aurelia smiles once again, not averting her eyes from her hands, as she ties the strings of her big bag. It’s nice to hear them happy like this.
“I don’t wander around many children, but I’ll make an exception for you.” The man replies.
“What’s an exception?” Elliot asks.
However, Aurelia no longer pays attention to their conversation. It took her more seconds than it should for her brain to process the information, her hands suddenly stopping and heart beating faster. She has heard that name before. Could it be-- She finally moves her gaze up to the man outside. She is dumbfounded at herself for not recognizing those deep brown eyes that match his hair, or the defensive but never unkind demeanor sooner. That man is, undoubtedly, her Drake.
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fancyhwrites · 5 years
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Best Stucky Fanfic Opening Lines
What are the best Stucky fanfic opening lines (from any Stucky fic ever written)? These need not correspond to what you think are the best Stucky fanfics in general. Copy and paste the lines down below, provide a link to the fic, and tag any fellow Stucky fans!
Oh hey, there it is. His old pal, pain. He didn't give it the slip after all. It's right behind his breastbone; a sucking void of fierce, burning hurt. Grief. Erskine was kind, and good, and now he's dead. The only man who believed in Steve, who wanted to give Steve a chance. The first person since Bucky to fight for him.
Steve looks up from Erskine’s body. He doesn't even remember that he's not five foot four anymore. He doesn't run after the spy because he's Captain America. He isn’t Captain America yet -- that doesn’t come until later. He runs after the spy because he's Steve Rogers.
Nothing that matters has changed.
-Good Morning Heartache, What’s New? by girlbookwrm
I could include any of the Hundred Year Playlist fics, but I really love this opener. It manages to give such good characterization and poignancy in just a few lines. 
Steve gets out of the hospital in two days, but just barely. “I’m fine,” he tells Sam, Nurse Eunjung and the phalanx of doctors assigned to make sure Captain America didn’t bleed out and die and get bad PR all over their nice clean hospital. “I have an advanced healing factor. It’s fine. See? I’m standing.”
“That is not standing,” Sam tells him.
“You’re bending the IV stand,” Nurse Eunjung adds pointedly. “Let go and sit down, they don’t grow on trees.”
If They Haven’t Learned Your Name by silentwalrus
Who would I be if I didn’t include this iconic opener?
“I’m sorry, you want me to what?” Steve sits back in his chair and tries not to glare at Hill across the (sustainable hardwood) conference table. Steve has slept in beds smaller than this table. He’s lived in apartments smaller than this table. There has to be about thirty chairs arranged around it. Why they have to have a meeting of just the two of them here, and not somewhere a little less officious, is beyond him. “Track down a cryptid.” Agent Hill tosses a dossier onto the table, and Steve has to stretch out an arm to reach across for it. “A cryptid,” Steve repeats doubtfully.
The Devil’s Acre by littleblackfox
I love the immediate humor and grounding of the fic with description. A unique and lovely AU.
When Steve wakes up, just for a moment, he’s sure he’s in the wrong place. He stares up at the dent in the ceiling, the one he’d made when he got a little too enthusiastic about popping the champagne after graduating college. Next to it is the green arrow Sam stuck there so Steve would never forget that night. It’s the same ceiling he’s woken up to for the last six months. But for some reason, his mind insists it’s the wrong one.
He blinks and the moment passes. He’s exactly where he’s supposed to be—in his room. Where else would he be?
So far I’ve come (to get to you) by obsessivereader
This fic! It jumps between past and present, and makes you wonder at the differences and the mystery until the end when it becomes clear and it’s so painful. The opening does a great job of setting up the initial conflict/mystery and draws you in.
Steve can’t breathe.
It wakes him, the tightness in his chest, the heavy working of his lungs. He can feel a nightmare wrongness pervading every inch of his body, and he has had this nightmare—this one exactly. He knows the way of dreams: how the sleeping mind has a tendency to return to the same places, long after you’ve ceased to live in them; to populate itself with the same faces, long after they’re gone; and to whittle you down to your true image of yourself. Steve blinks gritty eyelids and stares down at the small frail thing curled beneath the covers. He knows this is not a dream. The mattress is thin beneath his bony back.
To Live It Again Is Past All Endeavor by trinityofone
Great opener that immediately creates mystery and suspense. Love this time-travel AU.
I’m sure there’s lots more but this was off the top of my head. Tagging @itsmajel @frostbitebakery @spacebuck @mrd-k3
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