#what if it was after he'd seen her face and thus she was forced to face the world maskless

[itstheghostofmypast]

Lime Milkshake

Non-Idol Choi San x (f)Reader

Summary: Love is not a feeling that comes without a cost, a give-and-take relationship that flourishes if both ends of the line meet at a pleasant frequency. Choi San had yet to understand that concept, especially when he deemed himself to be unworthy of love, in all its forms.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 5.1k

Est Read Time: 25 minutes

Warnings: past relationship trauma, language, ghosting (it triggers me so yes)

Rating: PG-13

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @san-network

Banner: @cafekitsune

Fate had never been fair, not with anyone who ever dared to dance with it, and luck was often watching from the sidelines, that's exactly how he felt when he saw her walk in with another man that day, watching the way she laughed at something the stranger had said to her- whispered to her, leaning closer to her, who knew the girl he had given his heart to was busy fooling around with it. That day he had stomped out of the shop, making sure to walk past her, feeling her body tense up, breath hitch and eyes widen as she turned her head to face him, locking her panicked orbs with his cold, hard ones-, a look she had never been a victim to before. That was the last time he had seen her, spoken to her, responded to her texts or even made the effort to open the door.

The thing about love is that it leaves a mark, an imprint that one may either wear proudly or cover with shame. She wasn't the first person he had been with, no, he had been in a few other situationships- unfortunately, she wasn't a situationship, she was a relationship, much like his previous ex- the one who had cheated on him with his own best friend, ironically his best friend was unaware of the relationship. He never thought that one night he'd visit her apartment, to surprise her, a day before his birthday, that he wanted to celebrate with his lover, his Bora, his angel, and find none other than Jung Wooyoung with her on her bed. It took Wooyoung four days to force San out of his room and another six for him to actually communicate with him, Bora was already out of the story, someone who didn't even bother calling back San or trying to reach out to him. That day Wooyoung had seen his best friend implode, keeping it in more than his introverted self ever did before, he was shy by nature and was one to put up a strong front to match his physical presence (the current big mountainous one) the old Sannie was as fragile as his porcelain heart, the recent development however was the addition of his nonchalance followed by his tactic to ignore the situation. The younger man had practically broken into his apartment to talk to him, only to find him mindlessly scrolling on his phone, he sat beside him, trying to talk to him but what he had received was a step ahead of the silent treatment- it was as if he was invisible like he wasn't even there. To get a reaction when Wooyoung had snatched it out of his hand and flung it across the room, the man simply grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, mumbling to himself about some movie- it was only two hours in of him sitting with Wooyoung in silence when his head whipped in the direction of his friend, at the sound of a broken sob, he'd never seen Wooyoung cry, let alone sob like that. It was after that when the two finally talked it out, how Wooyoung explained how he never knew San was in a relationship with Bora, and perhaps San shouldn't have hidden his relationship with her if he truly loved her, even if she had asked for it, he should've at least kept him in the loop.

He did thus keep him in the loop, for one fine afternoon Wooyoung had received a text from San, while he was busy cleaning at home, 

"It's over, don't meet her anymore, she's just like her."

Her- two years had passed and she still haunted his best friend, keeping him awake at night until he met someone else, Wooyoung was glad he had, for once San had met someone different, someone who would pull out San from the bubble he hid in, she was honest but careful with her words which Wooyoung had noticed, the two had met at a 7-Eleven at midnight, buying a lime milkshake and bonding over how disgusting of a midnight snack that was- though San had told him how she had done most of the talking, even while he walked her home she was talking, they had exchanged numbers because she had suggested becoming "mid-night snack buddies"- initially Woo thought she meant that sexually, but ironically she didn't, there was no other implication, but honest words of sincerity, a range of snacks were exchanged and shared and slowly San had begun to fall again, only this time he knew his mountain of a friend would fall into her arms and she'd catch him. Or so he thought, the text itself was something that had scared him, as soon as he read it, he was quick to leave his home to his friend's side, only to find her at his door, crying and asking for his help. Initially, he had thought she was no different, just as San had suggested, but it occurred to him how Bora had never cried like this, never tried to fight for San- if she truly was different then she would try no matter what, which is why he had decided to stay out of the matter, only advising her to "Don't give up on him." San, at the realisation that this was Wooyoung's advice, was, to say the least, enraged. His now ex would be at his door all the time, he blocked her number and email address, and made sure she couldn't find him on social media, at one point she began to show up at his door, knocking, gently calling him out, "Sannie, please I- I don't know what I've done, but please listen to me or at least talk to me." He'd ignore her diligently, making sure to leave a message, of how he didn't want her, how she was like her, how she was no different and how he was not someone to play around with. This went on for months, five to be exact, not that he was counting, she came to his door whenever she knew he was home from work, gently knocking on the door, "Hey... it's me, I just wanna talk." "Sannie, please, please just tell me what I did wrong?" "I hope you're taking care of yourself..." "Hey...Wooyoung told me about her...I'm not her San, I'm not Bora-"That was the last time he had heard from her, that night, he had almost opened the door, instead opting to lean his forehead against it, listening to her laboured breathing, "I- I don't know why you think I'd ever do that to you...I don't even know what I did to trigger this- please San, I know you're there. I know you can hear me- everyone in this building thinks I'm insane, like I'm a lunatic- I don't care about that but San I- please don't ghost me like that, don't pretend I never existed....just open the door...if you won't I..." he had heard the way her voice had cracked, his own resolve had begun to crack as well, but when he closed his eyes to keep the waterworks at bay, the image that flashed in front of his eyes was not hers- it was of the one who did this to him, he was so distracted by the face of his ex that he had almost missed her final call, "I won't bother you anymore."

It wasn't fair how all he asked was for true love, yet he was given something bitter as this every time he received any, it was unfair how he'd still cling to the memories, onto the habits and the little activities, only to make himself feel better, to feel whole again. It wasn't fair how he was now climbing down the damp, slippery stairs, on his way to have a disgusting, cold, unworthy lime milkshake. It took him a while to come out of the habits he had developed with Bora, but now that he thinks about it, those comprised of usually pleasing his ex, it was different with her, she'd usually look for a middle ground. Scoffing to himself he stuffed his hands in his jacket, what did it matter, he hadn't heard from her since that night, he hadn't heard from her for almost a year, she was no different, at the end it was only-

"Ah!" 

His ears picked up a loud thump, followed by the sound of things clattering around, a pained cry had him focusing on a crouched figure, leaning against the wall almost at the base of the stairs- oh no, they must've slipped. Making his way quickly, but carefully down the remaining concrete steps he clicked his tongue at the figure, a woman, "Miss, are you okay?" He asked as she watched her gripping her ankle, and let out a shaky breath, she couldn't hear him. Moving closer he tapped her shoulder, "Miss, do you need.... help..." his words died down as his eyes locked with a familiar misty pair, which widened upon a sudden realisation. Honestly, she was quicker than him, shaking her head and mumbling an, "I'm fine", before trying to reach for her bag and its fallen contents hastily, not sparing him a glance.

Did she change her hair?

Did he change his hair?

Her mind raced with a thousand questions, but she didn't listen to any, quickly trying to stuff whatever she had dropped, back in her bag, her keys, her wallet, her perfume, and her…her phone? A gasp escaped her as she continued to frantically look around, hands slapping against the dimly lit stairs, cringing at the wet dirt that stuck to her palm.

He watched her silently, frozen in the spot as he tried to process what had just happened, how did he not notice her walking before him? He hadn't noticed anyone at all, why was she out at this hour? It was still drizzling a bit; it was cold and- since when did she wear wide-legged pants? Sandals in the rain? His ear picked up her little gasp, picking up her little "Where's my phone...", he saw the glint of the device on two steps below, making his way around her to go down quietly. 

She felt his gaze on her, somewhat humiliated, somewhat angry and truly upset. Why was he not helping her? Was he just going to stand there and watch? The San she knew wasn't like this, he was cold-hearted- she saw him crouch down to grab something, her phone- shit- the screen lit up, reflecting off his eyes that had widened for a split second before he closed them, letting out a sigh and locking the screen.

He picked up her phone, pushing the lock button to check the damage, only for his breath to hitch at the sight of her wallpaper, it was the first couple picture they had taken together, one she had coaxed him into after three months of being together;

"Don't worry, it won't have your face or mine." "I... how?" "Watch, just stop walking." She instructed as he stood still, still carrying her on his back, this was a habit that developed when she'd come to the store after leaving work way later than she had imagined, which is why walking back was a bother, so he had brought up this suggestion, "You're wearing trousers anyway." Regardless of how worried she was, he held her with ease, carrying her up the same steps they were now on.

This picture was a shadow of the two, with her on his back, this was the picture she had as her wallpaper when they were dating as well- a year ago. He walked over to her, looking at her face, trying to read through her turmoil, something twisting within him as she stared up at him for a split second before looking away, the familiar words ringing in his ears, "I'm not Bora." 

She looked away from his face, chewing on her lower lip, almost ashamed that he had caught her like this, that he had found out how she still hadn't moved on, as she tried to move her leg, only to wince, eying the reddened ankle swelling as the now tight strap of her sandal pressed against the skin. 

Crouching down he slipped her phone into her back before gently pulling it out of her hand, turning around before she could protest as he stood there, facing ahead, pondering for a moment, before sitting down on the step after hers, quietly waiting for her to understand the signal.

"I- I'm fine, I can walk-"

He sighed, turning around to look at her with a frown, "You can't walk."

"I don't need your help," she looked away, slowly trying to stand up as she braced herself for the pain, only for him to grab onto her arm and move it around his shoulder, manoeuvring so she had to cling onto him when he stood up at full height, arms wrapping around his neck as he hooked his arms under knees.

"No, you do need my help. You don't want my help." He sighed, as he slowly started making his way down the last step, walking down the pathway, ignoring how she let out a shaky breath, her fingers digging into his cotton shirt when he took a quick step, the jerk causing her to wince, making him mumble a small "Sorry."

"It's okay..." she whispered, her warm breath against his neck causing him to shiver, as he cleared his throat to distract himself, before asking her the real question, "Where were you headed?"

"...7/Eleven."

He stopped walking.

"Oh."

"Yeah..."

"Why?"

"I think you know why."

That's how the two found themselves sitting on the footpath, grimacing at the weird taste of the lime milkshake, watching the once-in-a-blue-moon car pass by, her bag in between them. She didn't know he had finished before her, but he had stood up and walked back inside the shop, causing her to turn her upper body to look at him walk inside, he'd grown prettier since the last time she saw him- well he was always pretty- she quickly turned back when he came outside with a paper bag in hand, trying to act casual, only that failed when he crouched down in front of her reaching for her ankle, "ITS OKAY-"

Clicking his tongue, he glanced up at her, narrowing his eyes when she cleared her throat, letting him have a look. Folding up the wide end of her pant leg he frowned, "This is bad..." he mumbled, undoing her sandal buckle with deft fingers, watching the imprint in the swollen, pink skin, "Since when did you where such pants?"

"I was trying something new." She sighed, placing the empty bottle of her shake next to her, reaching for her ankle, "I-I'll put some ice on it, it's fine."

"Why did you do it?"

His question caught her off guard, causing her to look at him all confused for a second, before pouting "Wear...sandals? Cause they matched-"

"Cheat on me."

"What?" She frowned, "I didn't cheat on you- San, I understand that lady hurt you, but I'm not her and if you weren't ready to move on, you should've said so." She scoffed, amused and angered by the fact that she had been crying each night for a man, who couldn't see past his ex, what was she? Some form of comfort cushion for him to use when he'd miss his ex?

"Then" he placed his hand on her ankle, gently massaging it, though he narrowed his eyes, glaring at her, a contrast between the way he looked at her and the way he was touching her ankle, "Who was that guy? At the cafe? You don't think I noticed how he was whispering to you?"

Reaching forward she slapped his hand, hard, only for her palm to hit her own ankle in the process, hissing in pain as she looked at him tear-eyed.

"OW- WHY WOULD YOU- ARE U MAD?" He yelled, pushing her hand away as he tenderly ran his thumb over the bluish skin, "Why would you hit your own bruise?" He sighed, before pulling out an ointment from the paper bag with his other hand, ignoring the way she was glaring at him, maybe she did lose her mind when they broke it off.

He had begun massaging the ointment on her ankle, not looking at her, though he could feel her glaring daggers at him, watching him work on her, and for some reason, though he didn't care, he didn't mind. It was as if the voice inside of him was berating him, scolding him for letting his insecurities get the best of him, pushing away the only person who had accepted to glue back the shattered pieces of his heart, promising to place in pieces of hers in the cracks that were left by missing pieces.

"I hate you." 

His hands paused, one holding her ankle and his other hand holding the gauze, not an ounce in him wanted to look at her, wanted to see the hurt that swirled in her eyes, her words hung in the air, still as the mist on a cold bitter morning, perhaps such as this one, it was already past midnight. Clearing his throat, he continued his work as if nothing had happened, not daring to look up at her. Once he was done, he inspected his work before standing up, ignoring how her head followed his movements, still looking up at him, as if waiting for an answer, though he had nothing to give her, she hadn’t answered his question as well, she had only rejected the accusation. He grabbed her sandals in one hand and slung her bag over his shoulder before turning around and crouching down once more, the expanse of his back at her view, making her scoff, but she slowly got on, mumbling an ‘I still hate you.’

He had been making his way up the steps when he began to feel her tighten her arms around his neck, ignoring her for a minute or two, maybe she was scared she’d fall, so he let it be. That is until it became a bit too difficult for him to breathe for which he wheezed out,

“I can’t breathe.”

She let out a small gasp, “Aww…really?” before her grip tightened causing him to stop on a step, coughing out her name.

“That’s how I felt EVERY NIGHT when you IGNORED ME!”

Her grip loosened to its usual strength as he coughed for air, one of his hands flat against the wall as he tried to steady himself, letting go of her uninjured leg, feeling it wrap around him, wiping away a bit of drool with the back of his hand he hissed in anger, “You still haven’t told me who he was? What do you take me for-

“AN IDIOT, I TAKE YOU FOR AN IDIOT!”

“WHAT?” turning his head to glare at her, he frowned as she leaned over his shoulder to glare back with the same intensity, the volume of their voices wasn’t helping either, if anyone were to see them they’d probably call the cops, though that didn’t stop him from finally blowing up, letting out everything he should have the first time she came over to apologise, “WHY?  WHY AM I THE IDIOT WHEN ALL I DID WAS WAIT FOR YOU AT THE CAFÉ LIKE YOU ASKED ME TO? AND THEN YOU BRING OVER SOME GUY AND-

“HE WAS THE F*CKING REAL ESTATE AGENT AND HE IS GAY!”

Just like the previous statement she had bombarded him with, her words hung in the air around them once more, the only sound that was evident to the ear was their heavy breaths, though he could see the way her ears had turned pink, not from the cold nipping at her but the anger that he had caused to run through her veins, “I- I can’t believe you, you walked out on me, you never let me explain and- and all I wanted to do was to surprise you with an apartment we could share.” She sighed, slowly letting go of him, causing him to panic, though she pulled back holding the handrail, “Just give me my stuff, thanks for today, just pretend none of this happened, you’re good at that anyway.”

Turning around to look at her he watched her reach for her bag that he was still holding onto, only for him to pull away, biting his lip to hold back the flood of emotions, especially when she looked up at him all exhausted, “I really did think Wooyoung was right, that you’d give me a chance but- I, I don’t think you were ready for something new and-

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, catching her off guard, eyes widening at the way he looked down at his shoes, holding onto her purse like it was his own, or perhaps he was holding onto something that was hers, the only piece that was not taken away, much like the memories of her, of how she loved him through the darkest patches of his life, how she spent time peeling away each layer with delicate movements, how she spent most of her time trying to understand him, how she’d be there with her melody, trying to soothe his aching soul, only for him to toss her out when the voices inside became so loud he couldn’t hear her’s anymore.

“You’re…sorry?”

“Yeah, I- Hey!” he almost lost his footing when she shoved him, staring at her in shock, for the love of God, they were still on the stairs, “Don’t do that,” he held onto her wrists when she almost shoved him again.

“Why? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me she hurt you like that, you- don’t you think I would’ve stayed with you? I love you- I- I helped you as much as I could and if I knew you needed professional help I would’ve stayed by your side- did I not love you enough for you to realise that?” her words cut through him, it was as if reality had come and punched him in the face for her, “What’s the point of being so tough of on the outside when you’re hurting on the inside, indirectly hurting everyone who chooses loves you…” He watched her sigh, her resolve breaking as she looked up at him, streaks of fresh tears painting her face, causing his breath to hitch at the sight- no, if he had opened the door on the first day he would’ve cracked, he would’ve crumbled at her feet and to think he didn’t, to think he had let her cry like this at his doorstep for so long, to have her break down, to lose a piece of her every night because he was too afraid to confront her, even though she had come to him, fate was not cruel to him, no, for once fate had pitied him, by sending him a form of compensation he was unworthy of, a form of love that he was unworthy of, for he was unworthy of her.

“I…” his head hung low, fingers tightening around her wrists as he let out a quiet sob, before he slowly sat down, the world around him spinning a bit too fast, though he did not know she had followed after, he didn’t even know when he started bawling his eyes out, his deafening cries were being muffled by her shoulder as she hugged him close, a soothing hand rubbed his back, though she never shushed him, never asked him to stop, in fact, it was as if she was encouraging him to continue crying, to let it all out. Soon his sobs turned into incoherent apologies, which morphed into hiccups of her name, squeezing her close to him as she pressed his face into her neck, whining and mumbling about- honestly, she couldn’t even understand him, she was just glad he had finally decided to let it out, to finally feel whatever he had barricaded away, whatever was stopping him from loving and feeling loved. He doesn’t know how long it took, but he’s sure it was after a solid twenty minutes when he finally peaked up at her, catching the way she gave him a small smile, only for him to whine and hide back in her neck, mumbling, “Do you still hate me?”

“I don’t hate you San, I just hate what you did to me.” She sighed, slowly peeling him off her as she cupped his face, taking note of his puffy eyes and red nose, her thumbs caressing the warm and wet skin below his eyes, “I don’t think I deserved to be punished for something I didn’t do.” He could only meekly nod at her statement, before sniffing and letting out a shaky breath, followed by another apology which she nodded at. Standing up he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, before he picked up her things once more, turning around so she could hop onto his back.

“I can slowly walk there, you know?” she asked only for him to shake his head, not even turning to look at her as he did so, just waiting for her to do as he asked, which she did thankfully.

The walk to her apartment was quiet, though not as tense as the walk to the store was, or before they finally fought, in fact, she felt quite better, she didn’t really know about him, but it had been a long time since she had felt this light as if the weight of the horrid world had been lifted of her shoulders. Ever so often, she’d hear him sniff, but that was all, halfway up the elevator ride to her apartment she felt him gripping her tighter, closer, though she did not say anything.

It was when she was at the door when she tried to move but he didn’t let go, instead stood there facing the door with her on his back, not saying a word or moving an inch.

“San.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t lose you again.”

She sighed at his statement, before giving what was similar to a back hug, placing a kiss on his shoulder, slowly slipping out when he eased because of her antics. Limping over to the door she finally unlocked it, turning to look up at a dejected mountain of a man, holding onto her pink sandals in one hand, while on his shoulder clutched close to his body was her hot pink purse, if this wasn’t a serious moment she may have even laughed. Still, the sight of him standing there, like a kitten kicked in the rain had her gripping the doorknob, wondering what she should do next, was it worth the effort? Was giving him another chance worth the risk of the pain? All that therapy she had to go through when she decided to move on- but had she moved on? Well, she thought she did, until she met him again tonight until he began to carry her down the stairs, until she realised he too was going for that horrid drink, until he sat there quietly drinking it with her, until he began to treat her injury as if nothing had happened- perhaps a part of her did not want to move on, or was she waiting to see if he had moved on?

“I can’t just…forget everything San.” She finally gave into the rational part of her being, “I can’t help someone, who doesn’t want to help himself,” looking up at him she noticed the way his eyes had watered, his lower lip trembling, much like his shoulders, “I need to know if what I’m fighting for is worth it? Are we really worth it, Sannie?”

His ears picked up the little nickname, most people who were close to him would call him that, but when the name slipped off her tongue, his heart grew bigger three sizes, his heart grew braver three sizes, something ignited within his soul, his fingertips tingling with a new found sensation, his eyes met hers, eyes burning with a new found determination, a newfound realisation, “We are. I need to make it up to you, I want to make it up to you, I will make it up to you…” he paused, before taking a deep breath, “Only if you let me.”

She looked at him quietly, taking in his words, perhaps she had woken up someone who lay asleep for years, slowly losing himself within the broken shell of a man who walked aimlessly around the Earth claiming to be Choi San, perhaps this was the real Choi San, the one Wooyoung had told her to fight for, the one Wooyoung had told her would love her endlessly, would hold onto her tighter than she’d hold onto him, the one who was to bring down the galaxy and present it to her on his palm, all wrapped within his love and admiration for her.

“I have to go for talking therapy at 8 pm tomorrow.”

“We have to go for our talking therapy at 8 pm tomorrow.” With that he handed her the purse, leaning closer to the door before opening it and picking her up princess style, her sandals still hanging off his fingers as she scoffed, wrapping her arms around him, “You’re sleeping on the couch though.”

“As long as I still have a date with you tomorrow.”

“Again, it’s therapy.”

“Therapy dates can be our thing.” He smiled down at her, a genuine smile, a smile that she had barely seen, one that came with the dimples and the crinkle of his nose, his teeth peaking out at her, contagious enough for her to morph a similar smile, perhaps not as pretty as his, but for him, it was the brightest, most beautiful, most charming smile he had ever seen, the very sight he would long for each night, when his self-induced state of pity would subside and the kinder, selfless San would resurface, the one who had decided to set the same picture as his wallpaper as her own- that’s why he was so shocked to find out that even though the two hadn’t met for almost a year, or talked to each other, they somehow still happened to have the same wallpaper- guess fate really did know what she was doing, enough to have the two craving the disgusting, ungodly lime milkshake.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @the-kpop-simp @mlysalt @spooo00oky

#cromernet #k labels #san network #ateez imagine #ateez fluff #choi san #hongjoong #break the wall #seonghwa #mingi #yunho #jongho #fluff #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #yeosang #song mingi #ateez #atz x reader #atz imagines #choi san x reader #san x reader #san x you #san x y/n #ateez fic #ateez scenario #ateezedit #ateez angst #san fanfic

[bokettochild]

I just saw a post asking which Link would make the best villain and....

It's Time guys

Like, I love the man, but let's be real; he's a second from snapping and committing atrocities.

Twilight is so thoroughly traumatized by the vision the spirits gave him and Fi's judgement of him that he literally can't stand messing with magic that isn't actually his own or connected to him. And while, sure, he doesn't need magic to be a villain, let's be real, it'd take something magical to force him to turn his back on everything he's ever fought for.

Similarly, Wild fought and died for his kingdom, and his people. There is nothing and no one worse than what he's already seen that could possibly make him turn his back on it all and throw his work down the drain just to destroy everything he'd built himself.

Legend is the same. he's been doing this far too long to ditch now. Granted, he's a grump, but if you look at his games, you see he's a highly empathetic and caring person. Unlike the others, who were tasked with saving the world by a mentor or friend, or had to go and save a friend or family member, or who where sworn to duty; Legend was literally some kid who was asked by an utter stranger to help, and did. Six times. No way someone like that is going to go and destroy everything.

And Wind! Wind is a moral guy, with a good heart. he set out for personal reasons and saw in his journey that there were bigger fish to fry, and he fried them. He had no reason to take it on, no call of the goddess, no responsibility, no reason for him, a child, to go and save the world as well as his sister, but he did it anyway.

Sky and Warriors are simply too devout. Warriors to the kingdom and it's people; with everything he suffered for them, you can't tell me the man isn't dedicated to serving his country. And Sky is loyal to Sun, who is Hylia, so he literally would never go against her. And by the law of the Zelda universe, villains are those who go against Hylia and Hyrule.

Four is an iffy one. Most people might say "but Vio was a villain!" but let's be real; if you read the manga, you know Vio was bluffing all along. If Vio, part of Four, didn't bow even under Shadow's influence, and Vaati's, and Ganon's, then again; who and what would drive this man to become a villain? Granted, the persuing of dark magic to bring back his lost friend could be argued, but is more likely to lead to his corruption than his attempting to take over Hyrule and kill innocents.

Hyrule is tough, since we have very little to work off of in cannon, but come on, even if Hyrule did turn to evil, he wouldn't exactly be able to do much. Hyrule's already in ruins in his time, and the monsters wouldn't hear of working beside him. He'd have everyone against him, and even if he does hold the triforce in it's entirety and thus could do all sorts of horrible things, he has neither motivation nor reason to turn away to becoming a villain.

Time though......

Time has watched the world burn and all his efforts be turned around and lost. He has lost everything so many times, usually with no reward or reason. In the end, Time, though a good man, cares more for the individual than the country. He cares about his wife and his boys, and based off the scars, we can only guess what lengths he's already gone to in order to accomplish his goals.

Time, if faced with the right issue, has every risk of dropping from defender to threat. Hyrule be damned, this man cares for his wife, his kids, his home, and if you threaten that, no matter who you are, he will go after you. He's one second away from going after Hylia and all she has done to him and those around him. He detests the Blade of Evil's bane, the symbol of Hylia's blessing. He borders every moment on the precipice of taking power beyond mortals to fulfill his own wishes, even if it is to help those he loves.

Put Malon in danger, heck, one of the boys, and Time won't let something silly like morals stop him from doing whatever it takes to protect what little that is still his and hasn't already been taken from him. He will fight tooth and nail not to lose anything else, and he won't let even the goddesses stop him.l

#lu time #linked universe #linkeduniverse #ketto's brainfarts

[batmanfruitloops]

Jonathan's Name

Content warning: Heavy religious themes, minor death mention, abuse mention

Jonathan means "gift from God", in this au his parents loved him so I think it's fitting they would give him this name. Specifically his mother. Through all the abuse she's been through from her own mother, she'd be happy to be free from her. She now has a family of her own. Where she can give someone the life she never had and be supported and loved by her partner. Jonathan is truly a gift to her. A reminder of how far she had come. She was aware she may pass by the time he was close to being born. She was aware she may never meet him in mortality. This didn't scare her though. As much as she'd love to see her son, she trusted George would care for him. She didn't want to leave her family so early, but she knew she'd be with them again someday.

In the bible, Jonathan was known for his courage and loyalty. She would also hope this name could inspire the same traits. Her loyalty to George while her mother disapproved of him gave her the courage to escape her mother's cruelty. She'd hoped her son could have this same ability. To face any challenge with courage, and find connections he could keep forever. These are the traits that helped her through the lowest points in her life. She does not want her son to suffer what she has gone through. If anything should happen, he can at least have the tools to go through it. To be more braced than she was so he won't have the same broken spirit she had to live so long with.

After Karen died. His father decided on the middle name Enoch. A figure in the bible who did not experience the death of the flesh and a lesson about God's love. A story to teach God is not cruel. George grieved for his wife greatly. He missed her very much, but same as she saw Jonathan as something wonderful. George knows things like this happen. He grew up a country boy after all. He had seen much death and knew it was natural. Mothers of calves would pass, mothers of lambs would pass, and eggbound hens would pass. This did not prepare him for the grief he would experience himself but he knew he was allowed to be sad. He knows why grief is necessary. It teaches you the value of love. And love he did. He loved his son and would keep his promise to give him a good life. He'd hoped the middle name Enoch would teach his son that all things happen for a reason and to learn from them and grow. Even when things are hard they can grow you into a loving and compassionate person.

He can't keep his son from never experiencing hardships as much as he'd like to. Rather he can teach him to handle them with maturity and grace. Greif is the price of love but it will always be worth it. One loss in George's life led to the gift of another. Thus, Enoch, one life led to another almost as if there was no death at all. This is at least how George would come to understand it.

Unfortanly Jonathan would never come to know the significance of these names. His father passed when he was too young so he can't remember how loved he was for that short time. His grandmother wouldn't know the significance of his namesake either. Better that she didn't. When he was forced to read the Book, he'd read about these figures who share his name and wonder. He didn't feel courageous, he didn't have any person to be loyal to, and he was being treated so cruelly. Was it some sick joke? Or a premonition of who he could become? Only time will tell.

-Fluffy

#batmanfruitloops #anewgothamau #batman #dc #batman au #batmanfruitloopslore #jonathan crane #the scarecrow #scarecrow #cw: religious themes #tw: abuse mention #cw: death

[youmissedone]

After stumbling her way through multiple corridors in the dark, seemingly abandoned hospital she had woken up in, Rain finally came across another soul. "Oliveira...? That you, man?"

@wanderingaroundwithmysoul

Things had gone so bad so quickly on this mission that even a seasoned soldier like Carlos was a little bit in shock. His platoon was given such limited information going in, and granted he'd forced the issue by jumping out of a helicopter before they'd reached their ordered drop-off location, but... Geezus, this was bad. Training for the U.B.C.S. was pretty standard military training, with a side order of here's how to handle panicked civilians affected by various biological agents. "Agents." Carlos wished he'd gotten a lot more clarification for that term, because he never in a million years expected it to be crazed, virally-infected human beings.

His experiences dealing with guerilla warfare in Brazil in his youth had conditioned him to some extent on how to deal with full-on combat breaking out in the middle of civilian streets, but... this... This was something entirely different. No matter how radicalized people became, they still had instincts, senses of self-preservation, or some kind of morals or stakes that could be appealed to to some degree to get them to stand down. These people... it was like they had rabies or something that affected their brain function. They just kept coming, regardless of the imminent danger to their lives. Regardless of being told to stay where you are or I'll shoot.

Yuri had fallen first. Bitten by one of those things, and then... well, he became as crazed as they were. It was some kind of transmittable biological agent, Carlos had determined, though he didn't know how to protect against it. It seemed to be a lot like rabies in that the sufferers would eventually become uncontrollably aggressive and seek to bite others to transmit the pathogen.

The rabies virus, Carlos knew, had mechanisms to make its host more aggressive in the final stages, when the host was dying, so that the virus would be passed on through bites and other contact with blood or saliva and not die with the host. Maybe... this was something similar? He could only speculate, because his employers were mum about the details, especially after he'd reported Yuri's demise. As soon as he began radioing back that any of his group was infected... Umbrella went radio silent on them. That was when Carlos knew he really had a serious problem on his hands.

Nikolai had been the next to die, taken down by dogs infected by whatever this was that was killing people. Apparently it wasn't limited to human hosts, but also affected dogs, cats, birds... you name it. Carlos had done his best to try and protect him but... it was too late. Now he found himself trying to track some kind of supply drop he'd seen be delivered by helicopter after his last radio. He wasn't entirely sure it was to do with his platoon, but it was something, some form of communication from Umbrella, and so he felt compelled to check it out.

He'd zeroed in on the Racoon City General Hospital, but as soon as he entered the place, he knew something was very wrong. It was empty. And silent. During a crisis? During a life-and-death biohazard situation in which people were being bitten, scratched, torn apart, and literally eaten alive... the hospital was... empty? That made no sense to him. Cautiously, he held his semi-automatic rifle at the ready as he moved methodically through the building, looking for whatever had dropped from that helicopter. He'd found nothing thus far, until he turned a corner and-

"Ocampo?" Carlos said, immediately lowering his rifle upon seeing his friend and Umbrella comrade. He was glad to see a familiar face, but even so, his brow furrowed. "They didn't tell us they were deploying Sanitation as well," he mused, before looking her over, taking a couple steps towards her. "Are you alright? What happened to you?" She really didn't look good, if he was being honest. Then again, nobody was looking great right now, given the situation here.

He tossed his rifle behind him to his right side, leaving it hanging by its strap as he took out a semi-automatic pistol. "Here," he said, offering it to her along with a couple of magazines. "The situation's gone to hell in the city. My platoon was overrun within minutes. I'm all that's left. Umbrella's not responding to my evac calls. We're gonna have to fight our way out."

#wanderingaroundwithmysoul #carlos rp #{ we’ve just been expended } ᵃᵖᵒᶜᵃˡʸᵖˢᵉ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ #{yassss.... let's get these two killin' zambies together lol} #{i've always headcanoned that the u.b.c.s. and sanitation teams were all friends} #{like they worked together... maybe dormed together in the hive or elsewhere nearby} #{so i always count rain and kaplan and others as part of carlos' background} #{friends and training buddies and the like}

[and-stir-the-stars]

so in silent protector au mike posesses the golden suit, right? is there any scenario under which he'd have a form that's recognizably his? i'm curious what the kids would think of him looking just like their killer when they're aware he's 1. not like. A Living Night Guard and 2. a different dude.

ʸᵒ ʰᵒ ʰᵒ...

In this au, lost souls start out stuck inside the suits, with the suits acting as their new "bodies," before the souls eventually gain enough control to leave the suits and wander in their real forms. It would take Mike a long time to gain control, but eventually he would have the ability to wander outside of the suit. It's just a matter of Mike WANTING that, because for a long time, he wants to stay as far away from the physical world, the ghost kids, and his brother for as long as possible.

I can't see Mike willingly leaving the suit for a long time after his death. Once he and Evan actually start *talking*, though, I think Mike would have a hard time denying Evan if Ev asked him to leave the suit.

The question of how the other ghost kids would react to his actual form is an interesting one, because it actually hinges on a lot of moving parts.

Do the ghost kids actually know what their killer looks like?

A lot of media that I've seen depicts William as wearing the Spring Bonnie suit during his murders, so. Did William wear the suit for *all* of them? If he did, does that mean the only "face" the children have for their murderer is Spring Bonnie? Or maybe as ghosts they saw their killer's face when he took off the suit after killing them?

Do some of the ghost kids know what their killer actually looked like, while others only have "someone inside Spring Bonnie" clocked as their killer? Or did they all see William’s face as their killer at one time or another, either while they were alive or as ghosts being forced to watch him kill others?

I've already decided that the spirit possessing Foxy (Fritz) is the most inquisitive of the kids and the spirit possessing Bonnie (Jeremy) is the most reluctant to accept change, thus explaining their more aggressive behavior in the games.

Jeremy, I think, would go out of his way to avoid Mike if Mike wandered outside of the suit. Snide comments get thrown around about how ALL of them have been more on edge since Mike left the suit, and maybe it'd be best if Mike would just go back in, or at least cover up his face.

Fritz is unsettled by the reminder that the person he has been "befriending" (in a way) has had the face of his killer the whole time. There's discomfort there, but he tries not to let it get the best of him. Mike has no more control over his appearance than the rest of them have control over the disturbing wounds warping their ghostly bodies. Like each other's fatal wounds, it's just something he-- all of them-- will have to get used to. But Fritz does have a version of his killer built up in his mind (assuming he never met William in person; maybe William was the type to mingle in the arcades and whatnot, talking to all the kids as he chose his next victim). And i think Fritz would ask Mike a lot of questions, try to learn more about him, learn more to help separate Mike’s face from the killer Fritz has built up in his head and prove to himself that they're not actually one and the same.

Based on what we know about Suzie from pizza sim, Suzie would probably be one of the kids William targeted from walking around the pizzeria, though whether he lured her while inside or outside of the S Bonnie suit could probably be debated. Like Fritz, Suzie tries keeping her negative thoughts about Mike’s appearance to herself because she knows it's not Mike’s fault, as unsettling as the situation is. But mostly, she tries to keep from rocking the boat because she's never seen Evan this... happy isn't the right word, but free, maybe. There is no wondering why he had to die anymore, no more wondering why he wasn't good enough to deserve his brother's love. Evan finally has what the others lack: answers and an opportunity to heal. Suzie feels guilty for treating Evan so harshly when they first found out Mike’s spirit didn't move on. And Suzie knows that Evan needs love and support and the chance to heal as much as the rest of them, and that she and the others didn't give their Protector nearly as much of these things as HE gave THEM. If Evan can get these things from Mike, too, then she wants that for him.

That just leaves Gabriel, who I haven't put any characterization into at all, if I'm being honest. Inside Freddy, he's the star of the show by day, but by night, he almost fades into the background amidst the antics and aggression of the souls possessing Bonnie, Foxy, and Chica. He's not as active, and when he is, he tends to sit outside your door and FORCE you to use up all your power like he just wants this to be over. Like he doesn't get as much fun out of this as the others. Maybe that's what his music box is: a way of celebrating, almost. Of saying "there's no more power. You have no way left to fight. This is over now, and we can finally have some time of peace and rest before we're forced to do this whole thing again without you."

Maybe Gabriel sees Michael outside the suit, and there's a sense of hope because this has never happened before. This is DIFFERENT. Maybe they won't have to spend the rest of eternity locked inside this senseless routine of being surrounded by seas of faces night and day, all of these faces being people who cannot or refuse to help them. But this is just me spitballing ideas so I at least have something to say; this characterization isn't set in stone and I'm liable to change it if I stumble across something more interesting.

I'm very intrigued by the first thing you pointed out, about Mike looking like their killer while not being a "Living Night Guard." I haven't actually put much thought into the fact that Mike looks like the kids' killer or how they would react to him while he was still alive until now. I still haven't decided yet whether Evan knows his father was a killer in this au, but if he doesn't know, then I'm incredibly intrigued by the idea of Evan hearing the other kids whisper "that's the face of our killer" only to look and see his own brother. Michael heartlessly killed Evan; maybe it wouldn't be too big of a stretch in Evan’s mind to imagine Michael killing other kids, too. Maybe the reason Evan is the one to kill Mike isn't just vengeance against his own death, but vengeance against the other kids' deaths, too, because Evan is under the impression that his own brother went on to murder them.

#I feel like the answer to how they respond to Mike's form also depends on their home life #Like whether or not they have older siblings themselves could have an impact #Also thinking about the idea of mike NOT looking like william as a ghost #Maybe it's smth like your fox and kit thing where mike died on the inside a long time ago #His vessel has grown and changed but his spirit has stayed stagnant #Mike staying stuck as the 12-14 year old who killed evan and a part of himself too #Or maybe Mikey’s ghost could present more like lonely children au #Mike has some control over what his physical appearance looks like and chooses to present as a 9 or ten yr old #to try making the others more comfortable around him #I dunno. Lots of moving parts. #silent protector au #Missing children fnaf #Fnaf mci #Suzie fnaf #Gabriel fnaf #Jeremy fnaf #Fritz fnaf #evan afton #michael afton #Fnaf ghost kids

[foundtherightwords]

The Firebird - Chapter 16 (last chapter)

Pairing: Prince Paul (Catherine the Great) x OFC, Fairytale AU

Summary: When Paul, a spoiled young prince, spots a strange bird in the forest near his palace, he impulsively chases after it, hoping to both escape from and prove himself to his disapproving mother. Thus he is plunged into an exhilarating adventure across a magical realm populated by enchanted princesses, dangerous monsters, and powerful wizards, an adventure that may change him more than he can ever imagine.

Chapter warnings: none

Chapter word count: 4.2k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15

Chapter 16 - Homecoming

Paul walked through the gardens in a daze. He noticed that the leaves, which had been young and green when he went away, were now starting to yellow at the edge. How long had he been gone? He saw no one and started to think this was another horrible trick, like Illarion's temptation. It was past time the court returned to the Winter Palace in Saint Petersburg. What if there was no one here? What if he was too late, and his mother had already presented the Bobrinsky boy to the council, and he had returned for nothing?

The spell was broken when he went through the back door of the castle and ran into a servant girl. Upon seeing Paul, the girl dropped the tray she was carrying as though she'd seen a ghost, which, all things considered, was not far from the truth.

"Where is Her Majesty?" Paul asked.

The girl stared at him, too shocked or frightened to speak. Paul waved her off and made his way up the staircase to his mother's private chamber. It occurred to him that he may catch her with one of her lovers, but he didn't care.

She was alone, sitting at her desk in her morning robes. Hearing Paul come in, she looked up. The quill fell out of her hand.

"Good morning, Mother," Paul said. He didn't know what else to say.

"Paul!" she exclaimed weakly. "It can't be!"

She turned white, as white as the sheets of paper in front of her, and for a moment, Paul was afraid his mother would faint. But she didn't faint. She went to him and tentatively touched him, brushing the long curls from his forehead, perhaps to assure herself that he was real. Paul fought the old reflex that urged him to shy away from her hand, knowing now that this was the closest she could bring herself to a caress.

"Is that—blood?" she asked, reaching for his cheek.

Belatedly, Paul remembered he still had Baba Yaga's blood smeared on his face. "It's not mine," he said, wiping it away.

"But where did you come from?" she asked, peering at him as though she could discern the truth from his face. "And where have you been all this time?"

Paul pondered her question. Eventually, because he could not possibly answer it without sounding like a madman, he only said, "Does it matter? I have come back." He hoped she didn't hear the bitterness in his voice.

***

They rushed him to Gatchina Palace. The Empress wanted to accompany him, but Paul insisted on meeting Orlov on his own. "Otherwise he would suspect you of forcing words into my mouth," he said. "I only have to say that I had typhus, don't I?"

"How did you know that I told them you had typhus?" she asked sharply.

Paul only shrugged. This mother hadn't pressed the question of where he'd been, though he would catch her watching him with something akin to fear. Perhaps she saw something in his distant eyes, some subtle changes in his demeanor, which prevented further questioning.

Paul received Orlov in Gatchina, apologizing for his long absence, chalking his worn-out appearance up to his recent illness, and assuring the minister that he would be at court as soon as his health permitted. Afterward, Orlov went away again, looking greatly put out.

The court returned to Saint Petersburg soon after. The Empress, terrified that he would disappear again, ordered Paul to be attended at all times by a servant, even when he slept. He couldn't walk down the corridors without a servant following close behind. All the attention he had not received as a child was now heaped upon him. He supposed he ought to feel gratified by it, but to his surprise, he found it annoying and longed to be alone.

He tried to focus on his old life, telling himself it was no use crying for what he'd left when he had left it so willingly. He thought about Zhara watching him in the scrying disc and tried to act as the man she thought him to be. But it was difficult. It wasn't simply because he missed Zhara, though he did miss her terribly and would sit for hours watching the garden outside, searching the grounds for the familiar flash of red that he knew wasn't there. It was because everything around him was drab and dull compared to all the colors and life of Lukomorye. After the openness of the Lukomorian landscape and the loftiness of the Arthanian castle, the walls of the Winter Palace closed in around him like those of a prison. Food and wine turned to ashes and vinegar in his mouth, now that he'd tasted the heavenly flavors of Lukomorye. He finally understood why the traveler in the tales was always warned not to eat the food of the enchanted kingdom. Once he did, he would be lost forever.

Even after the sharpness of the memories faded, the longing remained. Now Paul knew how a changeling must feel when it was pulled out of Fairyland and thrown into the human world. He felt himself under an enchantment, without knowing who cast it and who could break it. He couldn't even seek comfort in the old Fool's tales as he had in his childhood, for they were too painful a reminder of all he'd left behind.

A month after Paul's return, the Empress came into his chamber one morning to announce that she had invited the three princesses of Hesse-Darmstadt—Amalia, Wilhelmina, and Louisa—and their mother, for a visit.

"A visit? For what?" Paul asked, reluctantly tearing himself away from the book he was reading. He had taken it upon himself to search for mentions of Lukomorye and other similar lands in old writings of Kievan Rus' and even before that, holding on to those precious, magical memories by any means he could.

"For your betrothal, of course!"

Paul turned startled eyes toward her. When he first returned, thinking only of preventing the throne from falling into unworthy hands, he had not considered the matter of matrimony. It was true that the thought of love had never been far from his mind, but it was more to wonder if he could ever love anyone again.

"I do not think of marrying just yet, Mother," he said carefully.

"Perhaps not, but I have thought about it for you."

"As you please, but I don't care about the Hesse-Darmstadt princesses." He could not even remember which of them was which, and what they looked like.

"Heavens, not all three of them! I have chosen Princess Wilhelmina for you, but of course, it would not do to invite just her. You will care for her, after. You will get used to her, and you will learn to love her."

"I cannot make her happy."

"You need not trouble yourself about that. All you have to do is to respect the wishes of your mother."

Her voice had taken on the half-exasperated, half-mocking tone she often had with him, making Paul's blood boil with the old anger. He realized, with dismay, that despite her fear of the changes in him, the Empress meant to pretend his months-long disappearance had not occurred at all and go on with business as usual.

"I do not wish to marry, and I won't!" he shouted.

"You shall marry, or you can forget about inheriting the throne!"

"Then who will give you the heir you long for, Mother? Or have you already found a replacement?" He didn't mention the Bobrinsky boy, though from his mother's slight flinch, he knew it was who she was thinking of. He took some grim satisfaction from that.

His satisfaction was short-lived, for his mother always insisted on having the last words.

"Perhaps that's what I should have done a long time ago," she bit out, her voice now taking on an iciness that was far more threatening than her fury.

Fuming, Paul turned away from her contemptuous eyes. He looked at the books strewn across the table, at the obsessive notes he'd made on them, and thought to himself, What I am doing? Why was he pining for someone he could not have, a world where he could not stay? Better to marry and produce an heir to please his mother, so she would leave him be and let him do as he pleased. This princess or that princess, what was the difference?

"Fine," he said, swallowing the contraction—of rage or heartbreak, he did not know—in his throat. "I shall meet the Princesses."

***

Over the next few weeks, Paul often felt he had once again fallen back into Illarion's vision, as he was caught in a flurry of activities, most of which he had little involvement and no clear understanding either. Then the princesses and their mother arrived, and he was put in his full court dress, wigged, powdered, and rouged, and pushed into the reception hall.

As the princesses were presented to him, Paul was astonished to see that Princess Wilhelmina bore an uncanny resemblance to his unnamed betrothed in Illarion's vision—the same blue eyes, porcelain skin, and rose-bud mouth, the same doll-like features. Was this a sign? Or had Illarion been able to actually predict the future?

There was something else as well. His best friend, Andrei Razumovsky, who had commanded the frigate that brought the princesses and their mother over from Berlin, seemed a little reluctant to let go of Princess Wilhelmina's hand, and as he took a step back, Wilhelmina's eyes followed Razumovsky almost wistfully. Paul watched all this with a detached interest that was surprising even to him. He remembered Elena and Dobrynya, and wondered if anyone had bothered to ask Wilhelmina what she wanted.

Since Do you really wish to marry me? was not the most suitable question to ask one's intended, especially at their first meeting, with their mothers watching over them like a pair of hawks—they could certainly give Nightingale the Robber a run for his money—Paul kept the conversation between them polite and proper throughout the subsequent reception and dinner. It was during the ball later that evening that he felt confident to take their discussion in a more personal turn.

"Did my mother's invitation come as a surprise to you?" he asked Wilhelmina.

"A very pleasant surprise indeed," she replied. They spoke French. They could have conversed in German, but French was more fashionable. "But I've always wanted to visit Russia." A perfectly correct answer that told him nothing at all.

"If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?" he pressed on, hoping to learn something about Wilhelmina herself.

Her face lit up. "France," she said, and Paul tried not to feel disappointed at the rather expected answer. "I hear that it's lovely. Or Italy. Count Razumovsky had been telling me—that is, me and my sisters—about his European tour. He's very well-traveled, is he not?" She glanced at the tall, handsome figure of Razumovsky and blushed when he returned her gaze.

Seeing the looks between them, Paul realized that he could not go through with this nuptial. He could not be like Afron. He could not marry just any princess. It made all the difference.

He became quiet for the rest of the ball. To Wilhelmina's chattering, he only nodded, without actually hearing a word. At one point, he thought he saw a flash of red gold, and his heart thudded against his ribs so violently that it hurt. But when he looked again, he realized it was only the gown of a lady-in-waiting reflected in the gilding of the candlesticks.

Gazing despondently around the ballroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrors—a boy, nothing more, a ridiculous-looking boy in his periwig and frock coat and frills, surrounded by gold and glitter. None of it seemed real. None of it was real.

He missed a step and stumbled over Wilhelmina's toes.

"Excuse me, Princess," he mumbled, before turning on his heel and walking out.

***

Paul returned to his chamber and did something he had done but rarely in the past: he thought. He thought about Lukomorye and what he'd left there. He thought about Zhara. But more than anything else, he thought about Illarion, who'd gone on a rampage for power, about Afron, who had committed a terrible act of betrayal for power, about Kostroma, who had locked up her own daughter for fear of losing her power, and about Baba Yaga, who kept herself away from it all.

And he realized what a fool he had been.

"Zhara?" he said quietly, afraid the servants standing outside the door may hear and think he had gone mad. "Are you using the scrying disc? If you're watching—if you can hear me—can you ask Baba Yaga to open a door for me? Please?"

Nothing. Perhaps she wasn't watching. Perhaps it was too painful for her, as it was for him. Perhaps if he wanted to come back, he needed to seek out a door for himself. Regardless, he would not find what he was looking for if he stayed here.

His mind made up, he took off his wig and cleaned the rouge off his face. He donned his old clothes and packed a satchel with some changes of linen and all the money he had in the world. Then he went to his desk and began writing a letter.

He heard the door open with a loud bang but didn't look up. He finished the letter, signed it, and sealed it up, just as his mother stalked into the room, all disapproval and fury.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. "Return to the ballroom at once!"

"No, Mother." Paul got to his feet. "I'm going now."

"Going? Where?"

"To see the world." And perhaps to find a door to another world.

"What, now?"

"Yes. Please give my regards—and regrets—to the Princesses and their mother."

The Empress's voice turned wheedling. "Look, if the Hesse-Darmstadt princesses are not to your liking, we can find others. And after you marry, you can have Gatchina Palace for yourself, and I shall see about letting you join the council. But I need you here."

She thinks I'm still a child, Paul thought. Dangle a new toy in front of me and I'll forget my tantrums. Like everything else, he felt no bitterness about this. He felt only a sense of calmness and a newfound excitement to leave all the golden shackles of this life behind. He remembered Elena with her mother. This was how she must have felt.

"No, thanks," he said simply. "I'm sure Princess Wilhelmina will make a lovely bride, but she's not for me." He picked up the little satchel.

"You are serious," his mother said.

"I am."

"I don't remember giving you permission for this."

"I don't need your permission."

"And what about funds? How shall you pay for this journey?"

"I have some money of my own. I can get work along the way."

The Empress gave a derisive laugh. "What, travelling incognito? You wouldn't survive a day!"

"That is none of your concern."

She looked at him—really looked at him then—and seemed to notice, for the first time, that he was no longer the angry, arrogant boy who was always chomping at the bit and lashing out at her.

"How long do you plan on going?" she asked, her voice softening.

"That's another thing. I'm not coming back." He handed her the sealed letter. "I'm renouncing my right to the throne."

She didn't even glance at the letter.

"You can't leave," she hissed. "I'll have you locked up if I have to!"

Her imperious tone brought back some of the old anger. "Really, Mother?" Paul snapped. "First you imprisoned your husband, and now your son?"

He'd only meant it as a jab, but she reared back, as though he'd just hit her. Suddenly she looked her age—a tired, lonely middle-aged woman.

"But what can I say to the council?" she asked.

"You can say that I've gone mad, or that I'm dead. Make up an illness, like you did last time. Like you did with my father."

"They would never believe me twice," she said in a small voice.

This was probably the closest his mother ever came to admitting she'd had a hand in his father's death. For so long, he'd wanted her to confess her guilt, to give the memories of his father the respect he deserved. Now it no longer mattered. His bitterness, his anger, it was all gone.

"I'm making this easier for you," he said, trying to sound gentle and sincere. "With me out of the way, you can find yourself another heir, one to mold and form as you see fit."

"But you are my heir—"

"Not anymore." He strapped the satchel on his shoulder. "Goodbye, Mother."

He left the palace by the back door. Nobody stopped him.

***

He traveled far outside of Saint Petersburg, into the countryside. At every inn at every village, he would ask for stories about local witches and wizards, about dvorovoi and rusalka and strange creatures that appeared seemingly out of nowhere, hoping that one of them would contain a clue, that one of them may lead him to a doorway back to Lukomorye. So far, none of the stories yielded anything useful, but he still held out hope. In return, he would tell stories of his own, stories about poor Alyosha Popovich who was turned into a wolf, about the tragic love between Dobrynya Nikitich and Princess Elena the Fair, about Ilya Muromets and Nightingale the Robber. But there was one story he never told, about a princess named Zhara who was turned into a bird and a prince named Paul who fell in love with her. That story he kept for himself.

He learned more during those few months, just by talking to people, than he ever did in the previous nineteen years of his life. He helped them when he could, using his limited store of book-learning to read and write letters for the dedushkas and babushkas whose children and grandchildren, like him, had left home to seek their fortunes out there in the world, or settle arguments between merchants. Most people didn't pay him, but he could always count on some food, a stay in their izba, or at least a hot, sweet cup of tea from them. In this way, he managed to stretch out the little money he had, to keep on traveling.

At first, he was afraid that his mother may send men after him, but then, when he had been journeying for a few months, he heard an announcement of the betrothal of Tsarevich Paul and Princess Wilhelmina of Hesse-Darmstadt. He smiled to himself. His mother must have decided on Alexei Bobrinsky after all. He hoped his half-brother knew what he was getting himself into. Bobrinsky may be tsarevich now, but it might not be such a laugh, living under a false identity. Paul could only wish him the best. And Wilhelmina—she must have stayed so she could be close to Razumovsky. Well, Paul wished them the best as well.

After that, he traveled with more ease, though another problem soon arose. As winter descended over the landscape, turning everything black and white, Paul discovered that his meager fund, despite his frugality, had dwindled to almost nothingness, and he would need to earn some money if he wanted to continue on his way. But every time he went into a village or a farm asking for work, he only received some suspicious looks at his white hands and his still-fine clothes, and people turned away from him. He never really went hungry—there were always good things to be found in the forest and the stream, and he never forgot to thank the vodyanoy and the leshy for their bounty, though they never showed themselves—but he was afraid of getting arrested as a vagrant.

It was his clothes that caused the problem, he decided. People were bound to be suspicious of a young man dressed so richly wandering alone. So one day, upon coming across a muzhik lounging on the edge of the forest by a wagon full of snow-covered timber, Paul asked to trade his coat for the muzhik's old kaftan. The muzhik stared at him with curiosity, but eventually shrugged and agreed.

Paul took his coat off and wrapped himself in the kaftan, which smelled, not unpleasantly, of tobacco, horses, and sawdust. As he handed the coat to the muzhik, something fluttered out of an inner pocket.

It was a feather, gleaming red and gold under the falling snow.

Puzzled, the muzhik reached for it, but Paul snatched it up before the other man could touch it.

"Thank you," he said to the muzhik. He quickly stuffed the feather into the pocket of the kaftan and rushed off into the forest before the muzhik could ask him more questions.

Once he made certain he was well hidden by the trees, Paul sought shelter under an ancient oak tree, its trunk split almost in half, forming a large hollow. With trembling hands, he pulled the feather out of his pocket. It was the feather he had pulled from Zhara the day they met, the day he came to Lukomorye. He didn't even remember having it in his pocket.

Now, at the sight of it, something inside him broke.

"Please," he whispered, the feather pressed to his lips. "Please, Zhar-ptitsa. Let me come back. I was wrong. Please, anyone? Ilya? Elena? Baba Yaga? Can anybody hear me? I made a mistake. Please, take me back..."

There was no reply, only the cold, indifferent silence of the forest that swallowed up his voice.

He sank to his knees in the snow and stayed like that for a long time, not caring who may find him, not even bothering to wipe away the snow that had collected on his bare head and his shoulders.

"Well, well, well," said a voice behind him. "I never thought I'd see the day Pavel Petrovich Romanov admits that he was wrong." A clear, high voice, gently teasing.

Paul sat up and whirled around. Zhara was stepping out of the hole in the tree, her red braid glowing like a beacon amidst the snow-white scene, her breath clouding in the freezing air. Her lips curved up in her usual crooked smile, but they were also trembling slightly, and her amber eyes were shining with happy tears.

Paul slowly stood up and approached her, not quite believing his eyes. "Is it really you?" he asked, tentatively reaching for her. "Or is this some trick?" Already the snow was melting a little around her feet.

"It's not a trick," she said, taking his outstretched hand and pressing it to her cheek. If Paul still had any lingering doubt, it vanished at the feel of that smooth, warm skin under his palm. "It was the feather—it brought your call to me."

"You didn't use the scrying disc?"

"I was using it." A blush crept up her face, under her freckles. "But I stopped, after she—that princess—arrived."

She was jealous. Blessed be the Saints, he had made her jealous. Paul wanted to laugh and hug and squeeze her and never let her go.

"I couldn't watch you fall in love with another," Zhara continued.

"How could I," Paul asked, drawing her to him, "when I'm already in love with you?"

She kissed him then, her lips spreading warmth throughout his body until all his doubts and fears melted away completely. He ran his hands all over her as he kissed her back, wanting to feel every inch of her under his palms, wanting to assure himself that she was real, like he had that day he'd first seen her as an otherworldly bird, fluttering in his forest.

It was some time before they pulled apart to draw a breath.

"So what was this mistake you were talking about?" Zhara murmured.

"I thought what I desired the most was to see the dawn with you," he said. "But that wasn't true."

"It wasn't?" she asked, brushing her lips over his in that usual way that never failed to send blood pounding through him.

"No."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't just wish to see the dawn with you. I wish to see many, many dawns with you."

That earned him a smile, a radiant smile that lit up his whole world. He kissed her again, and then he took her hand, and together, they stepped through the tree.

Where did they go? What did they do? Did they live happily ever after? That I cannot tell you, for I do not know. If this was a tale like any other, then perhaps they did. But nothing had happened as it does in the tales, had it? All I know is that they left behind the white forest, where the snow soon covered up their footprints, making everything pristine again.

THE END

A/N: And that's it! By the way, the line about not knowing what Paul and Zhara did after this isn't just a funny quip to end the story in a fairytale-like way, I actually, honestly don't know. I have a tentative idea for a sequel but it's in its embryonic stage at the moment, so I don't know when or if I'll ever get to it. In the meantime, I'm going to have another Hellcheer fic up soon, and more fics for other JQ characters are coming (and perhaps some of those are for his new roles as well), so stay tuned. Thank you so much for reading!

Taglist: @ali-r3n

#prince paul #tsarevich paul #catherine the great #prince paul fic #prince paul x ofc #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic

[spookychick78]

End Of The Line

Chapter 13: It Just Comes Natural

Thomas Hewitt X AFAB!OC

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, some gore

Word Count: 3,850

Ronnie was eerily silent for the rest of that day and the one that followed. She kept her eyes down as she got through each task asked of her. Between Luda and Thomas, they made sure she wasn't left alone after what had happened. They knew better than to leave her out in the open for more of Hoyt's torment. Luda had even neglected the gas station for the time being. She was used to Hoyt's constant reign of terror, but even she was under the belief he'd gone too far. It was painful to watch him humiliate the poor girl in such a malicious way. She was worried he may have broken her after all and though she wouldn't admit it, she didn't want her to break. She quite admired her desire to challenge Hoyt, she respected it. Ronnie had been there longer than most who passed through the Hewitt household and she had managed to keep her sanity thus far. Luda knew that was no easy feat. She'd seen many slip after only days within the house, but not her. She refused to. She wondered though if he had pushed her limit, because her eyes didn't have that fire in them that morning. She watched her sort through the day's laundry with a cold, blank expression. Her stare was empty as she worked. It was as if her body was simply on autopilot. Luda could tell her mind was far away.

Hoyt traipsed through the room and grabbed one of the shirts she has just folded. He stood over her as he slowly buttoned it up. Luda watched him from under her brows as he smiled down at the silent girl. She shook her head and tried not to focus on it too much.

"Seems we finally got that filthy mouth reigned in, didn't we Mama?" He said before he bent down to try and force Ronnie to look at him.

She continued to fold the shirt she had in her hands. He grabbed her chin and lifted her face to him. She kept her eyes straight, though she was bubbling with rage. She didn't have the energy to fight him today. He rolled the dip in his lip as he nodded his head.

"Quiet as a church mouse," he muttered before he grinned down at her, "I think I like you better like that."

He patted her cheek before he turned away from her, "Guess I'll go on down to the station if you ain't gonna."

"You just do that," Luda said without so much as a glance in his direction.

Hoyt scoffed at her cold tone. Luda kept her focus on the laundry as Ronnie did. He narrowed his eyes at the two of them before he grabbed his hat and exited the room without another word. Ronnie waited until she'd heard the front door close to pause and let her eyes close. It brought her some relief that his presence was no longer in the house, but the air still felt so stifling. The way the heat hung around them was making the room feel smaller. It was beyond claustrophobic and her head was already buzzing in such a maddening way. She let out a slow breath before she opened her eyes to find Luda watching her sympathetically. Ronnie wondered if perhaps she could hear the storm raging in her head too.

"Luda," Ronnie started, "sorry. Mama?"

"You don't have to call me that if you don't want to, girl," Luda said softly.

She gave Ronnie a small smile as she waited for her to continue. She could tell Luda felt incredibly guilty, which she hoped she could use to her advantage.

"I need to take a walk," she said.

Luda set the shirt she was holding down and sighed, "Ronnie-"

"I ain't gonna run," Ronnie interrupted, "I know better. I'll be back to help you set the table."

"Go," Luda said with that same sympathetic smile, "just be back before sunset."

Ronnie's surprise at her answer was evident as she hesitated to stand.

"Go on," Luda said as she went back to folding the clothes in her lap, "before I change my mind."

"Thank you," Ronnie said gratefully before she made her way out the front door.

The heat wasn't much better outside, but the fresh air felt good in her lungs. She looked out towards the trees that she'd run through before. She didn't really want to deal with the thick brush within them, but the shade would definitely be worth the hassle. As she turned to pull the door shut, she noticed Hoyt's shotgun leaning on the old house. She looked at it with suspicion. His car was long gone by now, he would have already come back for it if he was going to. There was no way he would have simply forgotten it, he left it for a reason. Perhaps he wanted her to find it. He had to know by now she would love to use it on him, he had to be pretty confident she wouldn't get a shot in if that was the case. No, that couldn't be it. She craned her neck to check that Luda was still focused on her chores and that Thomas wasn't in to check on her. Once she was sure they weren't paying attention, she focused her gaze on the gun again. Maybe it wasn't even loaded, if it was maybe he wanted her to use it on herself. Whatever his reason, she was willing to risk taking the bait. She lifted it and slung the strap over her shoulder as she walked away from the house. She waited for that door to open and her dutiful 'husband' to march out only to find her with a gun. He'd be fearful she had finally snapped and he wouldn't have been wrong, but that door didn't open and she kept on walking. It took her awhile to find enough shade to rest in, there weren't too many leaves left on the trees to provide much coverage, but eventually she found a small patch. It was at least far enough from the house to stay out of view. She sat down and let the gun lie next to her. She ran her hands through her hair and hung her head as she contemplated what exactly she wanted to do. She hadn't forgotten that she'd told Thomas they would leave this place together, but she wasn't sure how much more she could take. If Hoyt had more to put her through, which she knew without a doubt he did, she didn't think she had it in her to stay sane. She didn't want him to take that from her. At least if she ended her own misery he wouldn't have the satisfaction of taking anymore from her, especially her life. It would be in her own hands again. Besides, if he didn't kill her first, starvation would be waiting right behind him. She looked down at the gun and felt tears welling in her eyes, but she refused to let them spill. She wasn't going to go out crying. She let her hand rest on the cool material a moment as she forced her tears back down, then she lifted it off the ground. She took a deep breath as she positioned it with the barrel facing towards her. She closed her eyes as she opened her mouth wide enough to at least fit most of it in. She winced at the metallic taste on her tongue and the metal that scraped against her teeth. She locked her knees to each side to keep it still while she cocked it. She wasn't even sure if it was loaded, but she left that up to fate. She took one last shaky breath before she started to reach for the trigger. She strained forward but her fingertips just barely grazed the front of it. It was too far. She started to sob as she tried to stretch her arm further, the strain sent the sharpest pain through her shoulder, only to find she would never be able to reach it. She could practically hear Hoyt laughing at her in her own mind as she struggled. She'd have to break bones to reach it and she didn't have the strength. She finally gave up and pulled the gun out of her mouth and tossed it to the side. She put her head back in her hands and pressed her palms into her eyes. He wanted this, she thought. He knew she would fail. He wanted to remind her there was no way out unless he allowed it. Nothing was in her control anymore, especially not her own death. She pressed her eyes hard enough that it hurt as she stifled a frustrated scream.

She heard twigs snap and figured Thomas had finally noticed her absence. She took a deep breath before she lifted her head out of her hands to look at him. Only, it wasn't Thomas. Just a few feet away from where she sat stood a buck. Ronnie froze as it stared back at her, unmoving aside from its ears. She felt convicted when she saw what she'd almost done in its eyes. She hadn't been able to hide after all, it had seen everything, her moment of weakness, her tears.

"I'm sorry," she whispered just above a breath to it, "I'm so sorry, but this is so hard. Life just isn't supposed to be this hard."

She started to cry again, but tried to keep her sniffling minimal. She wasn't ready for it to leave her yet, but it showed no signs of fear. It just kept staring back at her as if it had heard her words. It had a solution to offer her, maybe not total salvation, but something. It's head began to lower and she followed its gaze back to the shotgun. She had almost forgotten she had it. Maybe Hoyt wouldn't win after all because if there was a round in that chamber, it wasn't meant for her. She felt a soft smile pulling at her lips for the first time in what felt like ages, though her brows remained knit together. She knew he meant to break her by leaving the shotgun there, but he'd unwittingly given her renewed strength. He hadn't broken her and he wouldn't. She silently reached her hand out for the gun again and stood. As she took aim, the buck lifted its head back to her and offered her forgiveness in its eyes for what she was about to do. She inhaled as much air as her lungs could hold and began to let it out as her finger rested on the trigger, just as her father had once taught her.

"Thank you," she breathed.

She pulled the trigger and her eyes blinked shut as the shot rang out through the trees. It had been loaded after all.

Luda's head snapped up when she heard the gunshot. Dread started to wash over her as she heard Thomas' heavy footsteps hurrying up the stairs, faster than ever. The basement door flew open and she saw the panic in his eyes as his head turned left to right in search for her. He finally met Luda's gaze and furrowed his brow in question.

"Thomas, I-," Luda said as she watched his shoulders heave up and down as his eyes began to fill with tears he wouldn't allow to fall, "she just wanted to go for a walk, I didn't think-"

Thomas quickly marched over to the door. He would never take his anger out on Mama, but when he found Hoyt, he wasn't sure if he could offer him the same curtesy. If the image filling his mind was true and the gunshot found its way through Ronnie, he wasn't sure he could stop himself. If he found her lying still in the dirt with a bullet resting within her- no. He didn't want to think it, he didn't want to see it, but he had to find her. As much as her death would kill him, he couldn't just leave her there and he didn't want Hoyt's hands anywhere near her. He threw the front door open and took large enough strides to clear the distance from the house to the trees in just a minute's time. His eyes frantically scanned the area, but he saw no signs of either of them. He stopped and looked in the direction of the road, maybe she had attempted to free herself again and he had gunned her down there. He started making his way towards it when he heard a familiar and frustrated groan. He turned his head quickly to follow the sound. A slew of curses followed and he felt relief wash over him. She was alive. Finally, he saw movement in the brush and she stood up to dust herself off as she continued muttering to herself. She leaned back down and struggled with something just out of his view. He walked closer to see she was dragging an animal, a buck and the shotgun was over her shoulder. He barely had enough time to process what he was seeing before she stood up and saw him. She let out an exhausted sigh and trudged her way over. She had definitely ruined yet another dress Mama had given her, but god was he glad to see she was covered in dirt instead of blood. Well, at least not her own. She even had that stubborn determination on her face again.

"There's y'all's fuckin' dinner," she muttered as she strode past him.

He felt a smile pull at his lips as he looked over the buck she motioned for him to drag. He reached down and was honestly surprised she'd even managed to move it at all. It must have weighed close to two hundred pounds. He silently admired her as she marched back to the house. He knew this had relit the fire in her he'd come to adore, he could see it in the way she held herself. She'd proven her point. Hoyt wouldn't break her, he'd failed once again. The buck was her victory. A very heavy victory, he thought to himself as he lifted it off the ground, but boy was he proud of her.

Just before Ronnie got to the porch the front door flew open to reveal a very relieved Luda Mae, who ran towards her.

"Oh thank God," she said as she threw her arms around the girl, "I heard the gun and Thomas and I- and, and I thought Hoyt- you had us worried sick."

"I told you I'd be back to set the table," Ronnie said as she let Luda embrace her, she even allowed herself to smile, "though, you might wanna get Tommy to help you with that tonight. I got somethin' I gotta do."

Luda pulled away and gave her a confused look before she caught a glimpse of Thomas, who was still far behind her. Her eyes widened in surprise at what he was carrying.

She looked back to Ronnie, "You got that? For us?"

"Yes," Ronnie said as she looked down at the shocked woman with a kind expression, "I did. Figured you didn't want your son to starve on my behalf."

Luda gave the girl a smile that was filled with pride. Within her eyes she saw that it meant so much more to her than that. She was just as relieved as Thomas was to see that gleam in her again. She wouldn't acknowledge it verbally, but Ronnie could tell Luda's happiness was genuine.

"Well," Luda started as she looked down at Ronnie's ruined dress, "that would explain the mess you made of yourself and another one of my dresses."

Ronnie let out a small laugh before she followed Luda back towards the house, "I'll go get the kitchen ready," Luda chirped before she disappeared inside.

Ronnie sat down at the edge of the porch while she waited for Thomas. She was more than exhausted, but she was determined to finish the job herself. She wanted to skin it, she needed to. She wanted to show them there was a way to live life right, where death didn't have to be wrong. She was more than willing to help them survive, but not in the way they were. She had found a reason for her presence there that she had no choice but to cling to, a purpose. If she couldn't be saved from them then she would save them from themselves. If they wanted to keep her there then she would adapt to this hard living, but they'd have to bend with her, starting with what they were going to eat that night. Hoyt be damned if he tried to protest. She'd be the one to shove the meat in his mouth this time.

Thomas slammed the buck down on the porch and sat next to her to catch his breath. He could tell she was thinking, she had that far away look about her. He let himself study her without trying to hide it this time. There was something beautiful about the way her hair tangled in that braid she wore and the way her face flushed in the heat. She had a way of making dirty look pretty. She didn't look quite as fresh faced as she had when he met her, she looked harder, stoic even, as she looked at those trees she'd come from.

"I almost let him win," she said softly as she continued to look ahead.

He had an eerie feeling that he knew what she meant. He knew that bullet wasn't meant for the deer on the porch and that she hadn't taken the gun out there to hunt. He listened to her take a deep breath as she gathered her thoughts so she could share them with him.

"I was gonna let him. Whether it meant killin' myself or just givin' up, but somethin' didn't let me. I had that gun in my mouth and there was a bullet ready to kill me, but I couldn't reach the trigger. Maybe if I'd tried hard enough, I might have found a way, but then I saw it. Funny enough, it made think of you," she said as she turned to face him.

She gave him a soft smile when she saw how intently he was listening to her, "It wouldn't be fair to give up on you, Thomas. Not when you just refuse to give up on me. You don't even know me, not really, but you just won't give up, will you?"

She was looking at him so differently than she ever had. It was as if she'd found something new about him that maybe she hadn't noticed before. It made him feel as though she could see exactly what it was he was feeling, only she understood it better than he did. He watched a smile pull at the corner of her lips and he knew it wasn't just the heat that made his face warm. She let out a quiet laugh as if she somehow noticed him blushing behind the mask. Then her smile faded and her expression changed to a more serious one the longer she looked at him. He suddenly felt a tension between them unlike any he had before. He didn't even believe his own eyes when he saw her's wander to his lips.

"I'm keepin' my word," she said softly, almost absentmindedly as if she wasn't aware what her eyes were doing to him, "I'm not givin' up on you or me."

She paused a moment. He wondered if she could feel it too, whatever it was.

"Us, I guess," she added quietly.

Her eyes moved back to his and, as if she caught herself, she looked away and took in a quick breath, "So uh, unless you want me doin' this in the basement, would you mind bringin' me some stuff to skin this thing?"

He nodded and stood quickly, "Thanks, Tommy," he heard her say before he walked through the door.

She hadn't called him by that before, though he quite liked the way his nickname sounded in her voice. He retrieved everything she would need and made his way back up the stairs. She was waiting at the top to take them before she turned to head back out the door. He started to follow her, but Mama was quick to stop him.

"Tommy, why don't you help me get the kitchen ready while Ronnie takes care of that," she said as she motioned for him to follow her instead.

He reluctantly did as she asked, though as he helped her his eyes kept wandering out the window. He watched as she carefully cut into the buck's skin with such a delicate precision. He could tell by the way she moved she'd done it before. Her hand's were steady as she peeled back a good portion of it's midsection. She laid it beside her and continued on, only stopping momentarily to wipe the sweat from her forehead. She didn't seem to mind she had left a bit of blood where her fingers had brushed her own skin.

"She's somethin' else idn't she," Mama said, startling him.

He hadn't realized he'd been so entranced he hadn't even started with the plates. He quickly refocused his attention, but he knew he hadn't hidden it from Mama. Though he wasn't looking at her, he knew she had that satisfied smile on her face.

"You know, I see the way you are with her," Mama started gently as she took the plate out of his hands, "the way you look at her. I ain't ever seen you look at anythin' like that."

Thomas looked out the window again as he listened to Mama speak. There it is, Luda thought, that look. It made her heart just melt.

"You love that girl, don't you?" She asked.

He only continued to look at Ronnie. He wasn't quite sure if he had an answer. He had a vague memory of Mama explaining what that felt like, but that was so long ago. He just knew he would do anything to keep her safe, anything to keep a smile on her face and he would never ask for anything in return. Even if she hated him, he would live or die for her, it was her choice.

Mama let out a soft chuckle as he silently tried to work out the answer, "You don't have to figure it out, you'll know. You both will, it just comes natural. Just as natural as that girl's will to survive."

He turned to her to see she was doing a terrible job of hiding the sly look that was playing in her expression. He let out a gruff chuckle as he gathered up the utensils. He heard the sound of the butcher's knife hitting the porch and allowed himself one more look at her, naturally.

#horror fiction #slasher #slasher fandom #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt fanfic #texas chainsaw the beginning #texas chainsaw massacre #horror #slasher fanfiction #horror fanfiction #horror fan #tommy my beloved

[temporalbystander]

Okay it took a while, and devolved from a story you could read while listening to the song, to a story inspired by the song. But I still like it. My earlier post still stands btw, if you can guess the song/animatic that is behind this story you can force me to make a gacha video for Faybon for it. If you wanted to, you don't HAVE to do that.a

He could feel the darkness pounding away at the mask he wore. He could practically hear the flapping of the Akuma wings echoing inside his brain as he struggled to calm his breathing. He'd pulled away from everyone the moment the thoughts started. It was easy, nobody ever noticed when he disappeared, he'd done it too often for them to be concerned anymore. He had found a spot to be alone and collapsed to the ground, burying his face into his knees. He was used to being on his own, he couldn't operate if he didn't have this peace.

Pushing the darkness back he tried to think of his friends, the bubbling Rose as she smiled just to see him participating. He thought of the kids at the orphanage, living and laughing and him being there to help them enjoy it as much as possible.

“Yet who can say they'd be any different if you weren't here? The timeline must stay the same, remember?”

Just like that his throat tightened and he struggled to swallow, he needed a drink, why did he always think like this? Why couldn't he enjoy this happiness? Why did he always come back to what Bunnyx had told him? That an entire life had already been lived by all those people and she had seen it. Nothing had changed, she had made sure of that with all her interference… and once again the anger hit.

Sure future Alix had said she never regretted bringing him back here. That she enjoyed the time with him explaining what other timelines with him had become, that she'd correct things a million more times if it meant he would stay with the rest of their friends. She was doing so much for him when she didn't have to. When he messed everything up because he thought he knew better than the time traveler. That he could fix things if he just had a Miraculous or if he let himself get akumatised or if he confronted Gabriel to get him to look after Adrien better.

Still… he wished he could have kept Talli… he'd have promised to never use her powers if he could have just had someone to talk to. Someone he could vent to, who he could be honest with about everything. Seeing the little kwami, forced into being as yet another one of ShadowMoths ploys to get his wish… had made his heart ache. He could only imagine how that timelines version of him felt as he took her in, named her, cared for her and kept her safe. His first secret… even as Ladybug asked him to keep a lookout should he spot anything he had kept the Miraculous covered.

Bunnyx had shown him all that and more. How Talli had begged him to hand her over to Ladybug once they realised her powers were incomplete. How she couldn't keep him safe while transformed… he'd just smiled. He was finally able to help in a way only he could. He could take over for Ladybug or Chat without Shadow Moth ever noticing, thus keeping their identities safe. He could pretend to be any of the other Miraculous holders even if Ladybug couldn't get away to grab them. Any pain was worth it if he could help them, that's all he’d ever wanted…

Then he pushed it too far. Pushed ShadowMoth too far. Being backed into a corner the purple villain did the only thing he could think of, he created a sentimonster whose sole purpose was to beat Ladybug and Chat Noir. Then he akumatised it to give it all the limitless power it could need. Destroying the object did nothing at that point, its power stretched beyond that now, it crossed into Bunnyx’s realm and every possible timeline it could before she shut it down. All to anchor itself… To win she had to reset time again, go back before ShadowMoth got the idea to create Talli because that's as far back as the akumatised sentibeast had gotten.

But the moment she opened a burrow it was there… so that version of me went to stop it. He pushed Talli well past the limit…. Which meant there was no protection from what the beast did. Again and again he transformed to hold it back until Bunnyx hit reset… and being unable to see what that version had done to himself was the only thing Bunnyx had been grateful for… if even having powers meant he couldn't make a difference without it all going terribly wrong then why did he keep trying? Why did he keep putting himself out there when his own darkness became so hard to hold back? One slip up and he'd become an Akuma impossible to stop… he knew that… Bunnyx had shown him how that had happened many times before.

“You okay there little paradox?” Speaking of time travelers… Faybon sighed and lifted up his head more than ready to see the redhead’s teasing grin beneath her bunny ears. What he hadn't expected was to see the vast whiteness that was the burrow surrounding him. “You seemed like you needed a little space.” She said, smiling more softly than he ever recalled her doing before.

With the fear of an Akuma no longer hovering above his head the mask he was wearing broke. The hateful feelings swarming now that he was in the place outside of time, the place that proved just how little his wants mattered. “Why Alix? Why me? Why do all this for someone who’s not supposed to be here.” His voice cracked as he said it. “It's not like I'm close to present you, so you don't get anything out of it.”

“Fluff. Counterclockwise.” He looked up as the transformation ended, staring at the future form of his classmate as all the windows around them went still. “There is a method to my madness you know.” She said as she took a seat next to him, leaning against the blank wall that didn't really seem to be there. “My powers are a last resort for a reason, I don't normally get do overs if something goes wrong, I'm not like Viperion. Sure I can reverse damage and change the timeline but what I saw? What I experienced? It all gets erased, I'm the only one who remembers it all.”

“And?” Faybon asked slowly, eyes widening in surprise as she handed the pocket watch over to him.

“Take it from me, I know exactly what type of misery you're going through, being unable to change things for the better because there is a timeline I have to stick to.” For the first time Faybon could ever remember Alix looked vulnerable. She looked scared. Sure he’d seen Bunnyx look like that when he was shown the events of Chat Blanc but Alix herself? Was completely new to him. “I've just had several more years to grow numb to it.”

“That can't be healthy…” he said softly, still not taking the Miraculous from her.

“No… it's not. But I have to keep going. I have to keep the timeline on track.” She tried to smile but Faybon had been around enough girls on the verge of crying to see the tears she was holding back. “And every time I need to change things it's because you have to help your friends and I get hit with that same regret that I can't let it happen.” She held out the watch more earnestly this time. “I won't undo what I did with you Faybon, I can't be the only one remembering the type of person you are. I couldn't bear to talk to minibug or kitten Noir and have them suddenly not know your name.” She swallowed and Faybon knew she was feeling the same tightness in her throat as he had. “But if you did it? If you went back right before I dropped you off and placed yourself somewhere else? In some other time? I'd forget too.”

Reaching out he took the watch from her and saw her slump down further, but it wasn't from relief. “You never answered my question Alix. Why do you go through all this for me?” He asked as he stood up.

“Because you reminded me that time is just a bunch of pit stops. That you could keep the end destination the same while still making the journey more bearable.” Alix took a deep breath and looked up at him. “That if we get caught up in what we can't change we stop trying to see what we can, and at that point why even bother living.”

While Faybon understood the sentiment there was something about her smile that seemed… odd. “Who gave you that advice?” He asked, taking a shot in the dark.

She chuckled and gave him a smirk. “You did. The first time I came back to undo a timeline you'd made.” Her smirk widened at his shock. “You were quick to agree once you saw what had happened, the relationships between everyone were all types of messed up. But you just shrugged and said you'd try something else.” She continued before he could voice his thoughts. “I’d done so much to try and make it work, before finally accepting that it couldn't, that hearing you say that kind of made me snap. I was so stressed out that you'd hate me and want nothing to do with me and here you were saying you'd just mess up something else?”

“I take it there's a reason I don't remember this?” Faybon asked as he passed the Miraculous between his hands, thankful that Fluff had stayed quiet so far.

“You waited until I calmed down and then gave me the advice I just gave you. After which you told me to go back earlier so you wouldn't remember the conversation.” Now Faybon was really confused, it was rare when he asked for his memory to be erased. Even rarer for Bunnyx to agree. “You said it was because you didn’t want to remember the timeline I showed you,” she smirked again and stood up while pointing over his shoulder, “it's why I kept you from that window over there.” He didn't bother to look. “But I think we both know that wasn't the actual reason was it?” Alix’s voice softened again and Faybon realised just how big a weight had been placed on her shoulders with the Miraculous.

He didn't hesitate in answering her. “If I had known you felt like that I would never have let myself breakdown like I just did.” He said firmly. “Knowing there's a chance you could see it as you peered through the timelines I would have kept to myself even harder. The last thing I'd want to do is cause you any more pain.” Faybon took one more glance down at the Miraculous before handing it back to her. “I think we both can get a little too lost in our heads. So what do you say we push past our faults and imagined monsters and keep being the bad asses we are?”

Alix chuckled before transforming again. “Oh I agree one of us is awesome. But both?”

Rolling his eyes, Faybon turned to the window he came in from, his fears and worries laid to rest for now. “If I kept you on track all these messed up timelines later I think I must have done something right don't you?” He asked as he waited for her to open it up so he could step through.

Always needing the last word Bunnyx's voice carried through the burrow just before it closed. “Like I said, I agree with you, go cause some more trouble king.”

Faybon stared at the wall where the burrow had been in shock before he started to laugh. He’d thought of Bunnyx as overbearing many times before but he couldn't deny having also felt safe. Having someone who would always be there for you was something special, he just hoped she knew the reverse was also true. Shaking his head he returned to his friends, humming a little tune to himself.

#ooc #miraculous oc #mun talks #outsideofcausality #miraculous ladybug #mun ramblings #faybon tules #my writing #oc #future bunnyx #songfic? #miraculous au #miraculous fanfic

[medicus-mortem]

@chatcambrioleur​ asked: The night had been uneventful, so far; he'd fucked her stupid, to the point of exhaustion. The redhaired beauty had been sleeping soundly, barely stirring. Something, though, seemed to change in the air, as she began shifting under the covers. Whimpers and grunts passing through her mouth as she tossed and turned. Her hands clenched the blankets, trembling undeniably. "N---nnnnh----"

Dreams were often a peaceful respite. A brief moment where she could feel innocent; young, even in her fully grown body. In this reality, Bell-mère had seen her grow up, even from afar, in whatever version of an afterlife there may be. She was able to return, though, to see her girls once more -- and they had been happy, for just a moment. Nojiko and Nami were able to hug their mother again, crying tears of joy under the mikan trees. The moment was cut all too short, though, and instead of being able to apologize for what a horrible child she'd been, or telling her about all of her adventures, the hovering, loaded executioner waited, held by a shadowy figure. Nami tried to protect her. She tried to stand before her mother, begging the figure to take her, instead. There was no other ending, though --- her mother would be shot and killed right before her, in each and every reality.

The sleepy grunts had formed into a scream, dry in her throat. Pleading sobs, her entire form, succumbing to shivering. When she opened her eyes, she wasn't under the peaceful mikan trees, Nojiko wasn't there, and her mother was still gone. Her eyes landed on the doctor, and it was hard to tell if she was red in the face due to her outburst, or because he'd seen it all. She caught her breath, a deer in headlights, thick swallows and heaving chest.

"... I'm --- I'm --- fuck. It was... a nightmare. Sorry."

Unprompted

   Few things can draw Trafalgar Law into what could be considered a restful sleep. Intense, muscle exhausting sex is one of them. Thus, after forcing both himself and a tired Nami to clean up the surgeon fell asleep to the lingering scent of sex and mikans. Not an unpleasant thing to drift off with, certainly not when the warmth of her body feels so good against his side. Unfortunately the black embrace of deep sleep doesn’t hold him long.

   A whimper cuts through his resting mind. It sounds far off, distant but pained. Law groans, his brow furrowing as he tries to cling to this rare moment of rest. Then he feels movement, subtle but shaken. The tossing becomes more violent. An elbow slams into his side, waking Law with a sharp, gasping pain. His eyes come open, the doctor sitting up with bared teeth and a growing bruise.

   Then the scream beside him and every muscle tenses, mind instantly imagining a threat. His hand opens, Room getting summoned but not quite released from the confines of his palm. The eerie blue glow chases away the shadows of the room, bathing it in the strange light. His gaze turns to the woman sharing his bed, her face contorted in pain and fear. She’s pleading, tossing, sobbing, and instantly he knows what is up. Law’s face goes grim. He does not react the same as she but he is no stranger to nightmares. There are many horror filled memories in his brain that could rip a similar cry from his lungs.

   She comes awake just as Law reaches out his other hand to shake her from the night terror. When she whips her head around, mind coming back to reality, Law pulls his hand back. He’s not quite sure how to approach this. Their relationship isn’t exactly emotionally open and he’s sure that’s what both he and Nami wants, but still his eyebrows do knit in concern.

   “Don’t apologise,” he says, smooth voice going strangely soft. “It happens.” A pause and again he reaches for Nami, motion a little hesitant before his hand cups her cheek. “You okay?”

#chatcambrioleur #Boring Question // Answered Ask #As Planned // IC #[oh I do love a good post nightmare comfort scenario] #disturbed sleep

[xxblackballoonxx]

The Heart Underneath: J&M Letters 5 (Ch. 24)

***This fic is being posted simultaneously on FanFiction.net and Ao3. I originally began it in 2016, and then life was life, and now I’m bringing it back because it deserves to be finished! Rating M as of Chapter 10 ***

Chapter 23 Chapter 25 THU Masterlist

The Heart Underneath

Chapter 24: J&M Letters 5 (20 and 21)

August 20, 1916

Dear Mar,

I didn't want to write you this, but I'm going to have a scar, so I thought I better prepare you. I'm sitting in one of the hospital tents, my chin has been stitched up. Took some shrapnel to the face, but I will be fine, it will just be a scar. They’re going to keep me here for a day or two, until the wound closes up a bit more.  Arthur and Tommy are well.

It's so hot here, I'm not sure how anyone is making it through every day. Between the heat and the dust, the cut back home seems like a dream to be near. I miss our late night walks in the summer, leaving our bedroom window open. Somehow we always seem to sleep wrapped up with each other, no matter how hot it is. Here it's a daily mission to find a speck of shade.

I miss you and the kids. How many words is Will at now? I like to think of the conversations I'll have with him when I'm home. I hope Katie's not keeping you up all night. Tell them both hello for me and that I miss them and love them very much. I worry about Katie already, all the things she might have to deal with as she gets older. I'm glad she has a big brother to look after her.

I wish I was home with you right now, love. I would pay all the pounds I have for clean clothes, a good meal, and a night with you. Alone at the cottage or in our bed, no one bothering us. Listening to you reading to me. Some of your sausage rolls. Sleeping next to you. Those thoughts are what gets me through every single day here. I look forward to when I can next come home on leave. 

Stay well and I’ll do my best here.

Love you forever,

John/Daddy

John winced as he touched his chin out of habit, his whole face sore and still bloody from the ordeal he’d been through. Some kind of mine had exploded earlier in the morning, as his regiment moved into a closer position to the enemy, and he’d had half a second to pull down the two men beside him, as the sound of the mine exploding and the shrapnel flying into the air seemed to happen simultaneously. 

Arthur had pulled him up and out of a pile of the injured, dragging him backwards towards a trench. Tommy had seen from a distance and rushed over, pouring water over John's face to try to clear the blood and see how bad his wounds were. They all thought the worst. Tommy pressed gauze against John’s chin, breathing a sigh of relief to see that while it was a bad wound, it would heal.

John walked back to the medical tents on his own, hand against his chin for extra pressure, wondering if the bleeding would ever stop. A painful hour later, he lay propped up in a stretcher bed, stitched up and still covered in blood. His own and from others, he was sure.

He hadn’t put it in his letter, too afraid of what it meant, but he'd seen something out there, as he fell back against the mud from the force of the explosion. He’d always heard that in the seconds between life and death, visions from your life flash into your mind. What he’d seen was long blonde hair, green eyes, a white dress. A gold necklace against lightly freckled and tanned skin, gold rings, hands linked. A green hair ribbon blowing in the wind. He’d smelled her perfume and heard her speak his name, just once. 

Martha.

And then he landed with a thud on the ground, bodies falling on top of him and next to him, wondering if he was alive or dead. He hoped to God that if he was dead, someone would see fit that his afterlife would be peaceful moments with his family and his wife. He’d be happy to spend eternity in that house on Watery Lane, but hoped maybe his heaven would land him at the cottage instead.

It wasn’t until he heard Arthur yelling his name frantically, over and over, as he pulled John out of the pile of bodies, that John realized he was still alive.

“Can I send that for you?” A young nurse asked John, motioning to the envelope in his hand.

“Oh, yes, thank you.” John replied, smiling at her.

She leaned down and took a close look at his chin, using a damp cloth to clean the blood from his neck and cheeks. It amazed John how young most of the nurses were, how frantically the doctors worked, how overwhelmed they all were. He was silently relieved that neither Martha or Ada were involved. For as brave as every nurse and every doctor were, their lives were in grave danger, and John could only take so much stress. Looking out for Tommy and Arthur was enough.

“A letter home, then?” The nurse asked again, taking the envelope from him.

“Yes, to my wife and family. My two brothers are here with me … we try to write often.”

“You’re a Shelby.” The nurse commented suddenly, looking at the name on the envelope.

“Yes …”John replied, confused by her reaction.

“We’ve heard of you. You and your brothers. What you do out there, the men you’ve saved. Was starting to sound like a legend, but here you are, real as anything.” The nurse said, with a dazed smile.

“Well you can tell everyone I had a finest nurse in France, so thank you for that, Sister. I’m sure one of us Shelbys will be back in your care at some point.” John said with a wink and a smile.

“Your wife’s a lucky lady, Corporal. Very lucky indeed. I’ll go mail this for you, be back in a little while to check on you. Still bleeding some.” The nurse said, a blush coming over her as she returned John's grin.

After the war, the nurse would hear stories of the Peaky Blinders out of Birmingham, the Shelbys of Small Heath. It surprised her not at all that the three brothers had returned home, they were some of the bravest soldiers she’d ever come across.

It wasn’t until her grandchildren asked about her time serving behind the front lines that she told the story of taking care of John Shelby for a few days. It had been just a couple of months into her assignment in France, and the horrors she’d seen had already deeply changed her.  But to meet actually meet a Shelby brother and care for him? It somehow made her feel invincible. 

************************************************************************

Martha sank down into her chair as she read John's letter, feeling faint at the thought of him injured. She looked at the date again at the top of the letter and a cold wave came over her.

That very morning, the twentieth of August, she’d been sitting at the kitchen table. Nursing Katie with one arm and feeding Will a spoonful of porridge with the other, she’d been talking with Polly when suddenly John popped into her mind. This wasn’t unusual, she thought about him every hour of every day, but she felt the sound drop out of the room. As if someone had covered her ears, she could see Polly speaking but couldn't hear what she was saying. A fearful cold mist settled into her chest, seemingly wrapping around her soul, and all she could hear in her mind was John’s name. Her fingers went limp, dropping the spoon on the table, as she felt a hand wrap gently around hers. 

John.

And then the mist receded, the sound came back, and a sense of relief washed over her. She looked up to find Polly watching her closely.  

“Dada?” Will asked, looking around, as if he’d felt John, too.

Polly and Martha stared at Will for a moment and then back at each other.

“What did you just see?” Polly asked quietly.

“I didn’t see anything, exactly, I just felt this terrible cold, all I could hear was my mind screaming for John, and …” Martha trailed off, realizing she sounded a little hysterical.

“And then what, darling?” Polly encouraged.

“And it felt like he was holding my hand. Then the sound in the room came back, the cold went away, and so did the fear.” Martha whispered.

Polly thought for a moment, watching as Martha shakily picked up the spoon, and brought it back to Will’s mouth. The ring on her hand caught the light, and Polly watched the gold glint as Martha moved her hand back to the bowl.

“Something’s happened but he’s alright. That’s what you were feeling.”

Martha looked up at Polly, who’s voice was as sure and convincing as it ever was, especially when she talked about the things she knew without seeing or having tangible proof of. 

“Do you think it’s his ring?”

“In part, yes. But you two are almost like twins, that’s how close your souls are. You're always with each other, even if you’re far apart. The ring just strengthens that connection. He had me do the same to your ring, you know.” 

Martha looked down at the diamond and gold ring and smiled, John had purposely left that part out. It now meant more to her than ever. She looked up at Will, his small face becoming a little replica of John’s, matching eyes staring back at her. Two parts of John were with her here and now, it was what she took solace in.

August 27, 1916

Dear John,

I am so thankful that you will be alright, thank God your injury wasn’t worse. I promise you will still be as handsome as ever, no scar can take that away. I’ve included a special salve from Polly in your package, she said it will help with healing and minimize the scar to some degree. You’re supposed to use it twice a day for as long as it lasts.

Will is becoming quite the chatterbox, a lot of it is still baby babble, but some of it is understandable now. He loves to eat, so he asks for food quite a bit. And he asks for you, too. Katie is settling down into a good routine, she’s still so small but a strong girl. Her eyes seem to be turning green.

I miss our summers, too. Remember when we used to stay out late when we were little? Running through the streets with Tommy and Arthur chasing after us, your mum trying not to laugh when they finally carried us in and forced us into bed. I could live forever in a summer like that with you.

Stay safe, my love. We need you to come back to us.

We love you always,

Mar, Will, and Katie

It wouldn't be until after the war was officially over that John would talk to Martha about the things he saw in France, not just on the fields, but in his mind. He had been terrified to speak of it while still a soldier, in case whatever magic was happening disappeared the moment the words left his mouth. So he stayed silent, until he was sure that he was safely home for good.

#john shelby fanfic #john shelby #john shelby imagine #joe cole #peaky blinders fanfic #martha shelby #peaky blinders imagine #john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders #the heart underneath

[dragonshost]

Soray/Angeray and ice cream? (I know it's technically two words but it's all I can think of rn lol)

I can't stop laughing you asked me this exact prompt and pairing three years ago!! Here is the link to it. Don't worry, I wrote you a follow up for making me smile.

He never learned, did he? Or at the very least, he needed to figure out how to say no. Because here Gray was, yet again, stuck at the ice cream stand in the sweltering heat.

Thankfully, it wasn't as bad as before. Well... in some respects. This time he had more customers, as he had managed to keep all of his clothes on thus far and managed to avoid looking like a pervert. Mostly. Every once in a while he got a strange look from a customer, in particular one woman that had wrapped an arm around her kid and hastily retreated with their ice cream. Gray wasn't sure what had made her do that - he'd even checked with her that he was still wearing clothes! A mystery.

The clothes came with their set of problems though. His underwear, to be exact. They were chafing something fierce. The additional weight of the clothes had only made him sweat more, which had completely soaked through his boxers some time ago. Why hadn't he worn swim trunks? Those at least chafed... a little less.

At least the day would end soon. The sun was starting to sink, and as soon as it disappeared completely then the park would close and so would the stand. Then he could go home and mercifully escape both his boxers and the heat. He was literally itching to be free.

Gray's poor decision making skills aside... he was a little disappointed that he hadn't seen one particular customer at all that day. It wasn't as if he was hoping for a repeat of their last encounter, exactly. After all, that would mean that he had once more failed to comply with basic food hygiene standards. Especially as, once she'd left, he'd been questioned by park police about his public indecency. Over the years he had grown a pretty thick skin about people seeing him in the nude, but every once it a while the embarrassment would blindside him just as hard as it had when he was younger. This had been one of those times, unfortunately.

Wanting to see Sorano again wasn't weird, he told himself. He had things to ask her; the fact that a wanted criminal was out and about like it was nothing, had she continued to use her angel magic after all, was she doing well, had she liked the ice cream...

Maybe he just wanted a do-over on the impression he'd made. A thought he was not going to analyze further, as he was not Lucy.

Finally, the sun vanished, warm rays of gold and orange slipping into lavender and dark blue. Gray dutifully because to close up the shop, cleaning the utensils and securing the lids on the ice cream tubs (necessitating opening the freezer for some sweet, sweet relief), when he heard a throat clear behind him.

Not looking up, he called back, "Sorry, we're closed for the day."

"Ah," came a familiar, light voice. "I see I came too late today." Gray spun around, just catching the wicked smile starting to form on the woman's face as she tacked on, "For both the ice cream and the show." This time, Sorano had come without the hat, though still wearing a sundress.

"That might be construed as harassment," Gray quipped, not truly upset but still feeling a little warm in the neck at the reminder of what had happened before, and more than a little bit mesmerized by how her hair glowed in the fading light - almost ethereal.

Sorano raised an equally pale eyebrow as she appraised him. "For you or for me?"

Caught staring, Gray spluttered unintelligably. For lack of anything else to say on the topic, he abruptly switched it. "Did you enjoy the ice cream?"

The smile on her face softened slightly. "No."

Now that was a punch straight to the gut.

"...But my sister enjoyed it very much. I'm afraid I don't really care for ice cream personally." The wicked gleam in her eyes had returned in full force.

"How can someone not enjoy ice cream?" Gray muttered in shock. What utter blasphemy had he just witnessed?

She gave him a slight shrug. "Didn't have much occasion to develop a taste for it growing up."

That seemed fair, given Gray's limited knowledge of Sorano's past. "Then why come back?" he asked. "Looking for a another show? I'll have you know I kept my clothes on all day this time." Much to his discomfort.

A light laugh, as sibilant as he remembered, met his words. "Maybe I did?"

Gray considered her for a long moment. "Give me a few more minutes to finish closing up? Then maybe we can... try out a few other things you may have missed out on in the past."

Sorano licked her lips. "With or without your clothes?"

Defeated, Gray put his face in his hands and let out a groan. "I'm going to hear about this all night, aren't I?"

"If you play your cards right, you just might."

#grayano #soray #grangel #angray #sorano aguria #gray fullbuster #fairy tail #fanfiction #dragon did a request thing

[ramuneempiremtl]

Slave-kun's Happy Life in Another World: Chapter 18

It seemed to think it was time to hand her over to the guards now that he'd gotten the wanted information, but Daine continued to chat amiably with her.

Are you still going to keep this up even though you've already confirmed the facts?

The other two watched them with suspicion. They couldn't understand why the lazy Daine was putting so much effort into his performance.

Was he thinking about something he had 'seen' in the woman's mind?

"You're from the south, aren't you? It must be nice there. You can do anything you want as long as you have money."

"Yes, this country is so stifling in comparison."

"That's right, that's right. Even slaves strut around like they own the place."

"It's true. Slaves are worthless."

Daine's smile was so twisted that it didn't seem like an act.

The woman, who had been tense, seemed to think that Daine was from her hometown or something, and she began to talk cheerfully.

"They don't resist, so they'll make good practice dummies."

"Heh heh, you've got the right idea. I recommend them because you can use them over and over again once you've cast recovery magic on them."

"Oh, what a luxurious use of magic."

"And that look of despair on their faces. The expression they make when their spirits are broken is priceless."

The two of them were getting excited.

Unable to bear listening any longer, Shuza closed his eyes without changing his expression.

Daine's 'practice dummies' referred to practicing healing magic, but the woman had a different meaning in mind.

Finally, Daine's intentions became clear.

From this point on, his actions were probably for Owl's sake.

Daine had started acting as soon as he came out of the bathroom. He must have seen something in Owl's thoughts or memories.

When he looked at Nove, he could see a faint blue vein throbbing on his smiling face.

He wanted this terrible play to end soon.

"……So, will you take on the request?"

"Well, let's hear what Hulk thinks too. …Oh, he just came back."

Daine opened the door with his arm still around the woman's shoulder, and sure enough, Hulk was standing there.

That was the signal for the finale.

"Welcome back, Hulk. This one wants to team up with us. What do you think?"

"……That would be difficult."

The woman's face turned pale and she backed away as the guards emerged one after another from behind Hulk. However, she couldn't escape because Daine had a firm hold of her neck.

"Why are you struggling? Do you have something to hide? Ah, you told me everything so willingly."

"You tricked me! Let go of me!!"

"I didn't lie."

"Your speech is so stupid that it doesn't sound strange at all."

The struggling woman was pinned to the floor by the guards. The inn was in an uproar for a while.

"……Let go of me! You guys…! I'll kill you!"

"Kill us? You wouldn't do that, would you? You love torturing people, don't you?"

"!"

"……Was it fun betting on who would break first? Was it fun testing where you could kick them and they wouldn't move? Playing with recovery magic to keep them from dying must have been thrilling, huh? Oh, the best part was when you force-fed them poisonous insects. Have the bodies you buried in the garden been found yet?"

"W-what? How do you know?"

"I want you to go through the same pain before you die, but it's too bad."

Daine slowly approached the woman who was pinned to the floor, crouched down, and peered into her face.

"This is a violation of the alliance treaty. You'll die quickly without any suffering."

"!"

"Ha. Look at that face of despair. Was it 'the expression they make when their spirits are broken'? …It's not that much fun."

Thus, the three-act play came to an end, and the guards led away the stunned woman. She would be sent to the royal capital and await judgment along with the members of the merchant guild.

Everyone took a deep breath. It had been a terrible interruption before dinner.

"Ugh, this smell is disgusting. Do something about it, Nove, because Owl hates it."

"Maybe I should purify Daine too. Just airing it out won't get rid of this."

"Daine has become a bad person too. Do you think he'll go back to being a good person if we purify him?"

"No way. He's always been like this."

"……What did you do?"

"Just a little something. But more importantly, Hulk, hurry up and go."

"……Yeah."

Daine watched Hulk hurry off to the bathroom and then threw himself down on the couch. Nove continued to purify him.

Daine was exhausted from doing something he wasn't used to and saying words he wasn't used to. He had also overused his 'authority'.

"Daine seemed to be really into it, but…is Owl okay?"

"……He should be fine now."

"Can I ask what you 'saw'?"

"……'Saw' isn't the right word. It was more like it 'flowed into' me. A bottomless, unimaginable terror. Then it cut me off. So I don't know the details. I guess he didn't want me to see it."

"The disgusting things you were saying to the woman…you read her mind, didn't you?"

"……I thought I had 'seen' everything from the best to the worst, but…I've never seen anything like that before. It's not an emotion that a child should have."

"We keep making you carry all this."

"Don't worry about it. I can handle it."

Shuza and Nove couldn't find the words to say.

After leaning back on the couch and lazing around for a while, Daine suddenly sat up and clapped his hands.

"That woman was caught. We got information. Happily ever after. Anyway, let's eat!"

"Now that I think about it, I missed my chance to eat it."

The atmosphere suddenly changes.

And so the sudden storm passed, and the party began to return to their daily lives.

By the way, Aki had nothing to do with the commotion from the beginning, and was quietly enjoying his meal alone.

[Next time, from the protagonist's point of view.]

#slave-kun

[literallyshiv]

personally i would love for shiv to be pregnant from a narrative perspective & i definitely think it's plausible given the pattern the season finales have followed thus far: tom having moments where its revealed that he is in fact aware of where he stands with shiv—that he's not just the supporting partner he makes himself appear to be—and stepping out of that passivity to take on a confrontational role

(asking shiv again if she's been cheating on him despite her numerous assurances that she's not, and kicking nate out of the wedding after finding out about the affair even though he agreed moments before to having an open relationship // being honest with shiv about not being happy about their relationship, nearly outright saying he wants them to seperate by saying he's miserable being with her and is experiencing turmoil over whether he genuinely loves her)

followed by the next season picking up with unforseen circumstances that send them into a shuffle of other priorities that force them to put their personal feelings about their marriage on the backburner rather than following through with any implications from the previous finale or even working anything out for the better, with both of them stepping back into the dynamic they played with each other before the scene of confrontation— shiv taking the lead while tom plays passive husband and seemingly tries to give shiv the impression that he agrees that she knows what's best for them.

(when shiv is told she's getting the CEO position and tom supports her despite their previous "plan" that he'd go for CEO while she continues working in politics. while after their wedding it may have seemed like he was going to be somewhat more upfront in the role he plays in their relationship, shiv entering waystar at a position above tom as well as being the one who secured his new position at atn gives her undeniable leverage over him that he decides isn't worth upsetting the balance of by rocking the boat.

then, after the s2 finale, people seemed so certain that that would be the start of their seperation, only for s3 to pick up with them being flown off to different counties with the only parting words being that they'd talk about it later. things escalate rapidly again and soon we see them back together once again, the raw in the moment emotions from the last finale have settled back down into just an afterthought in the back of their minds as they deal with events that take higher precedence; the question of what they are to each other seeming trivial in the face of the potential for their entire world being turned upside down with the company.)

SO: what we've seen so far is tom getting progressively more frustrated with his relationship with shiv, and consequently being pushed closer to his breaking point for staying in the relationship, only for external events to come in and force them to stay together so they don't have to add navigating a divorce to their already full plates. each season it has raised the intensity of those external events, because as tom grows more dissatisfied it takes more to convince him to stay. and the season 3 finale is the largest rift we've seen struck between them yet, with tom explicitly betraying shiv rather than confronting her to her face. but the narrative structure we've seen so far doesn't allow for them to seperate entirely, instead it implies that what's coming next is an even more extreme reason to keep tom and shiv tied together than what we've seen yet.

all that combined with the frequency of discussions about next generations, the sheer amount of mentions of pregnancy and conception throughout season 3, the goddamn emporor nero and his pregnant wife of it all, makes a tomshiv pregnancy seem like a strong potential plotline and i for one want to see the psychological torture it puts tom through to have the first time he puts into action his plan to put himself on equal footing with shiv, immediately reveal itself to have been more detrimental to him personally than he ever could have anticipated

#also i think the fact that tom didnt explicitly include the part of the story where it was rumored that nero's wife was pregnant is a point #in favor of shiv pregnancy because if he Had then the foreshadowing would have been like TOO heavy handed yknow? #like they have always tried to walk a line of foreshadowing but still plot twisty and surprise and wow !! and adding in a reference #in the actual dialogue to neros wife being pregnant would have definitely tipped it over the line from foreshadowing to outright spoiling #anyway that's my two cents ^_^ #emily.docx #succession #tomshiv #m

[starshipsofstarlord]

Stuck in 1903

Part Two

Masterlist

Summary: Damon and Bonnie had come to your rescue, or so you thought, but it is Kai’s every intention to get close to you again

Pairing: Kai Parker x reader

Warnings: angst, smidge of fluff, mentions of smut, mentions of death, mentions of murder, bad friendships, mentions of poison, swearing

Word Count: 2052

Find Part One Here

divider by @firefly-graphics

If the Other Side continued to exist, then you would be there rather than this subordinate prison world which had been designed for one bad witch. Kai's own kind feared him, you had experienced him mentally draining your energy, he was a chore to put up with, but he could do much more than that, you had learnt from Bonnie. He fed off magic, physically stealing it from bodies and items that harboured any of it, which had poisoned his mind to hunt for power. Your friends had informed you that he had murdered his siblings, well some of them anyway, and had attempted to do so to more of them. And now you knew, with supporting evidence, never to trust Malakai Parker.

Without Damon and Bonnie you had to resort to fending for yourself, which was not at all difficult since this version of Mystic Falls that you were trapped in was quite literally a ghost town. The forever enveloping silence was torture, though the method of ignorance had not been designed for you; it was all for Kai, and that unsettled you. There was one more thing that you had been dreading - the possibility that you could not escape from the remote isolation without the aid of the guest starring siphon himself. This hell was built to contain him for eternity, but now there was magic that he could use to his own advantage nearby.

Your cheek rested upon the side of your hand, mushing the flesh whilst your elbow was poised upon the countertop of the kitchen island in the Salvatore house. All of your concentration validated your deep thoughts, of which you were broken from as a plate was placed directly in front of you, a pancake decorated with chocolate chips and syrup to form a smiley face. Damon was the culprit as he threw a tea towel over his shoulder, expectedly looking at you.

"I'm not hungry." You informed the vampire, who simply frowned at your lack of an appetite. "I ate yesterday, which was technically today." Beneath the table, you crossed your ankles, as you earnt a sigh from your well aged friend; he clearly was not impressed by your behaviour. But you didn't know what he had expected from you, you had been trapped here for longer than you could remember, and alone until you had discovered the man that had been outcast by his own family. At the time you had not known of his murderous tendencies, and had wanted nothing more than to get away from him, and you wouldn't like to admit it but you even missed him a little.

He was annoying and cocky, and withheld crucial information from you, though there was something that contradicted that all. Whenever any one of your friends had suffered the fate of death, they were always attempted to be brought back to life against the natural order of things. It made you wonder and doubt a little if they had even tried to resurrect you. In this separated reality, there was no jurisdiction so that you could know, though each time that either Damon or Bonnie looked at you, you could swear that there was guilt written in their gazes.

"Look I knew being stuck here with Kai must have fucked you up-" he should have bit his lip, his assumptions were anything but correct. And that was proven as you defensively darted out of your seat and jabbed your finger in his face, making him pivot his jaw back. There were many things that were 'fucked up', and supposing that you were one of them because you had died after sacrificing yourself to ensure that they all continued to live just didn't settle right with you. The context of the morbid situation did not help with condoning any reassurance at all, in fact, it gave a spine to your lack of faith in him and the others in the first place. Out of everyone, it was inherently worse to be here with Damon, all he had cared about was his precious Elena as well as himself, and after existing for well over a century, that was insurance that he was never going to change.

"It wasn't him who did that to me, it was roaming this damned place by myself, I had no one. And as crazy as it sounds, I think spending time with the notorious Malakai Parker helped me keep what was to spare of my sanity. If I'm not wrong, I may even say that I've found more being here than dealing with the bullshit y'all cause back home." Perhaps your words were a tad harsh, if Bonnie were in the room you were sure that she'd have a somewhat understanding of what you were saying. Though she was not, and thus you had to deal with the harshness of her best friend all by your lonesome. And it seemed that you had rattled him, apparently he couldn't handle the truth.

"Then why don't you run back to the sociopath? When we discovered that you were here, we found the pair of you attached to the hip anyways. And with him inside of you, I'd never seen you so darn happy, better here with him than tempting me to drink bleach from the way that you constantly complained when you were alive; I swear you were worse than Donovan." It was on your mind's own command for you to take a step back, and away from the toxin that Damon had so cruelly spat at you. Ans the way that he compared you to Matt made you angry; it was though he were ignoring that there were valid reasons for the blond to be the way that he was - after all, the monster before you had practically killed his sister. A laugh renegaded out from your mouth as you realised that you had been right all along, none of them cared. You were just a burden that stopped them from having a perfect life together. If this were a book, then this would be the beginning to your villain arc, and ironically enough Damon saw himself as one of the good guys. Now that was utterly ridiculous after every reckless thing that he had ever done!

"Have it your way then bloodsucker." All along, you should have trusted your guy, and from now on you knew that you would listen to it. And strangely enough, it was calling you to Kai, maybe it was because he was your last resort to escaping this imprisonment that had been meant for him alone. Turning on your heel, you heard Damon flop the towel down on the side and sigh, though you continued to walk, appeasing your better judgement elsewhere. "Wait." He tried to convince you to stay, belatedly understanding the mistake that he had made, but it was no use, you were already on your journey of getting as far away as possible from him.

The Mystic Grill, it remained to be familiar in your eyes as you entered. It was empty and void of drunken assholes and narcissists that you had wasted too much time on. The only person that you missed in the modern alternative was Matt Donovan, he was the only person that didn't treat you as though you were invisible or a nuisance. You wondered how he was coping with your absence, knowing him, he was probably relieved that Damon was gone. But you weren't, because he was here with you instead. Trailing your fingertips over the counter of the bar, out of the corner of your eye you saw a lonely glass of bourbon that was sat there as though it were lamenting you with mockery. You tried to hold your sentimental sob inside, but it was practically impossible. It tore through your body, bellowing out from your mouth as you stifled and fought through your tears.

A hand caressed the landscape of your back causing you to jump and flinch from the unexpected contact. One thing that you had learnt from evading and eventually experiencing the qualms of death, was that you could never be too careful. For no more than a second you had predicted that the intruder to your pity party was Damon, that he had followed you as you tried to distance yourself from him, but alas it was not, instead of being greeted by a fretless vampire, you were condemned by the sight of a powerless witch, of whom had purposely interjected your moment of cracked emotion and wore a brave smile for you. Wiping your eyes with the back of your sleeves, you couldn't help but snap at him. "If you're here to finish what we started then tough luck Parker, you've been here long enough and you have two hands, figure something else out."

His tongue darted out to swipe at his own bottom lip, as he raised his hand, showcasing his offering to you. "I was only going to see if you wanted a pork rind, you look like you could use one." Sighing, you dug your hand into the pungent packet that was littered with dust and crumbs, retrieving a few treats for yourself as you placed them in your mouth. "And now should be when the poison kicks in..." With your hand, you gave him a little shove as you tolled your eyes at his homicidal comedy. "Come on, that was funny! I'm funny!"

"If you say so, there's not very many people around to give you an honest opinion." It was true, the only other human like lifeforms impartially close by were Damon and Bonnie, and well, you weren't going to scurry back to them anytime soon. "And if you had poisoned me, then you would know that I would be fine and dandy in not so long, It wouldn't make a difference if that wasn't the case either, I mean I'm already dead, what could be worse than that?" Kai looked at you with shock; he didn't know that about you, that you had actually suffered a final breath. Now he thought about it, the grand scheme of things he didn't know much about you in general, though he was prepared to learn. He had often found death to be fulfilling, satisfying even, but he'd never thought about its victims being so beautiful. Yet here you were before him, by chance the one force that could motivate and help him find a way out of this jarring hole of reaping misery.

"You're here, that's all that matters." As soon as those words fled from his lips he realised exactly what he had said, and a blush framed his features. "I um - that wasn't what I - you know, yeah..." He scratched the back of his neck as you shook your head at this new side that you were seeing of Malakai. His parents called him Malakai, of course he was going to become a killer, but right now you saw nothing more than an embarrassed boy whose skin had flushed as an affect of his own words. From your experience, everyone was either the killer or the killed - you two were one of each. Like ying and yang, you fit perfectly, it was a balanced divide that was settled on whichever rhythm played out in the air. And to correspond with that thought you walked over to the jukebox, a song beginning to play which made Kai want to cover his ears. "I hate this song." He told you; he really did, if he could murder it, he would without a doubt.

"Then don't listen, just dance with me." You extended your hands out to him, to which he begrudgingly reached for. And as he snapped his eyes open, he realised that was all a memory, and that goddamn song was still playing. All he could think about was you, he had seen how upset you had been to die, and yet you were gone again, and it was all down to your so called friends. One was standing before him as he sat in chains, imprisoned against a chair. "Are you here to punish me?" He asked Bonnie, wanting nothing more than shut his eyes and see your face again.

#kai parker one shot #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #kai x y/n #kai x you #kai imagine #kai parker x you #kai parker #kai parker fic #kai parker fanfic #kai parker angst #kai parker fluff #tvdreader #tvd imagines #tvdimagine #tvd imagine #tvd one shot #tvd fanfiction #tvd x reader #vampire diaries x reader

[talkfantasytome]

"hey can we go home - not that i am scared"

- GWYNRIEL

Oh, fun! Not gonna lie, part of me definitely wanted to do this one for Nesta and Cassian, cause it would be so much fun to play how Cassian would say that. But, instead, I give you straight fluff from the mind of our favorite shadowsinger.

Az and Gwyn are out at a haunted house with friends, but he's just there for her.

Warnings: Language | Word Count: 894 | Read on AO3

a/n: This is, like, a proper drabble. Short, sweet, I guess I felt like fluff. I've also learned that, so far, I write Az with Gwynriel. Point blank. Have not once written Gwyn. So that's a new realization. 😂 We'll have to keep track to see if it changes.

Another shriek from Cassian tore through the air, feminine cackles following swiftly.

"You know, you could at least pretend to care instead of laughing at me," Az's friend groaned from the other room.

"You just got freaked out by your own reflection," Nesta argued. "I'm not going to not laugh at that, it was hilarious."

"Considering what you're going to want when we get home, you should really be nicer to me."

"You know this turns you on more."

Az exhaled, schooling his face so the annoyance wouldn't be too easily read as his friends' bickering faded into the distance. He didn't know why he agreed to this group date - why he ever agreed. It always ended up the same. Cassian and Nesta bickering as a form of foreplay, Rhys and Feyre eye fucking the entire time, Mor and Emerie actually fucking - or close to it, considering their hands never left the other's body - and Lucien and Elain separating about as soon as they could.

Damn geniuses.

He wished he could do that, but his delightful girlfriend was a bit too attached to her sisters to go along with it. Thus, there they were, walking through some ridiculous haunted house that Gwyn had seen advertised, Az going as slow as possible to distance them from Nesta and Cassian. He knew way too much about them, and their general likes, to be willing to listen to any more. Once he could not only hear the innuendo, but know exactly what they were saying, it started to become unbearable.

Tonight was no different. Cassian loved it when Nesta was playfully mean. Nesta had a bit of a horror kink - frights turned her on more than scared her off. This was literally a perfect date for them. And Az really wished he didn't know that.

"Oh my gosh!" Gwyn breathed, jumping into Az softly as a statue suddenly moved, a hand held over her heart.

Az couldn't help but chuckle lightly. "Get a bit spooked, Berdara?"

"I just wasn't expecting that," she explained, holding her head up high as she led him into the next room.

"That is the point of these things."

She glared up at him, poking him in the side, forcing a smile out of him.

Gwyn was the only reason he was there. Hell, she was the only reason he went a lot of places, if he was being honest. Not that he didn't enjoy hanging out with his friends, but some of the things they did just didn't interest him. He hadn't been scared by a haunted house since he was seven. They were always so predictable they started to become boring. He'd never have wasted the money.

But, with Gwyn there, it wasn't a waste. Nothing was ever a waste if it meant he got to be with her.

They finished the house without too much incident. A few light gasps from Gwyn, plenty of screams from Cassian ahead, a brisk walk through the gift shop, and they were finally out.

"Oh, look! The apple orchard is open!" Nesta exclaimed, pointing toward a sign that read, 'Apples After Hours'. "I bet they add in some additional fun for those who go picking."

She looked up at Cassian with wide eyes, and he groaned. "I don't know, Nes…"

"Please," she cooed, pouting and tugging on his arm. To no one's surprise, Cassian agreed, going to get their tickets. "Are you two going to come? Add in a few more haunts to the night."

Az stilled, looking toward Gwyn, his eyes finding teal quickly. He generally enjoyed apple picking, but at that point, he just wanted to spend the rest of the night with her.

"Actually, could we go home?" she asked Az. "It's not that I'm scared, it's just…"

He couldn't help but smirk slightly as he read her face. She was scared. Or, nervous, at least. Maybe the haunted house hit her harder than he realized. She typically had bigger reactions.

It wasn't too difficult to hide his excitement, even as he immediately started thinking about how they might spend the rest of the night. Locked away in his house, curled up on the couch, watching a movie. Something light and easy going - to distract Gwyn and take her mind off the haunted house. Maybe they'd make cookies. Definitely something sweet for her to nibble on.

The most important piece, though, was that they'd be together. And she'd spend the rest of the night in his arms.

"Of course," he answered, nodding and caressing her cheek softly before turning to Nesta. "We're actually going to head out. Let the others know when you see them?"

"Fine," she scoffed, giving them both a wink before running up to where Cassian was waiting, bouncing on his feet.

Az wrapped an arm around Gwyn's shoulders as she hugged his waist, leaning into him as they walked away.

"Maybe tomorrow we can go apple picking during the day," he offered.

Her eyes lit up as she looked into his, her mouth curving into a big smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he repeated. "There's a great orchard about an hour away, best apple cider in all of Prythian."

"That sounds perfect," she sighed, her eye back on the path.

Az smiled down at her, pressing a kiss to her temple as they made their way to his car.

a/n: Yep, Az is a bit of a simp too. And by 'a bit', I mean completely. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

@live-the-fangirl-life @boredserpent @nehemikkele @moodymelanist

If you'd like to be on my Gwynriel or any tag list, please let me know!

#gwynriel #pro gwynriel #gwynriel fic #gwynriel fanfiction #gwyn berdara #gwyneth berdara #azriel #gwyn x azriel #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #a court of silver flames #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #haunted house #not scary #fluff #fanfic fluff #it's all fluff

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 8

The Darkling x Reader

'Are you busy?' You had taken to looking for Aleksander to entertain yourself. You had already done the usual routine for the day and were bored. You had been intending to speak with him for a while but he always seemed to be busy when you asked for him. You had an inkling he knew what you wanted but was scared to approach the topic. Your wandering around the Palace and acting like a leader surely hadn't gone unnoticed by him.

You finally found him in the courtyard hopping off of his horse, looking as regal and handsome as always. The way he stood while talking to his stable boy gave you a clear view of the embroidery on the back of his kefta. The weaves of black shadows seemed to have grown since the last time you had such a close look. Magnificent

'I think I can find a moment out of my day for you' He briefly took your hand in his and lightly traced your knuckles with his thumb in a soothing manner. He always does this.

'Fantastic, I've been meaning to thank you for welcoming me back into the Palace, I feel I owe you big time.' Butter him up first.

'Nonsense, this is as much your home as it is mine' He said and started to walk towards the entrance.

'Well, in that case, is it possible for me to take up my old position?'

You studied his face while a knowing smile replaced his emotionless expression. He didn't look in the least surprised.

'How long have you been waiting to ask me that?' You couldn't help but laugh. I knew he knew.

'I have nothing else to do. I can't just sit and pamper myself for the rest of my life as lovely as that sounds.'

'Do you think you're up for it? It has been a while since you commanded an army.'

You'd be surprised. You were about to give him all the reasons you were even more suited now but he abruptly stopped and looked deep into your eyes, catching you off guard. He looked at you with longing and love. It suddenly rendered you speechless.

'So?' he quirked his head and wore that boyish smile that you loved so much.

'As a matter of fact, yes. If you wish, I'll even take over those boring council meetings with the King to prove myself.' He raised his eyebrows and let out a short hum.

'That does sound like a very advantageous proposition.'

'So I'm assuming that's a yes?'

'I shall think about it.' He looked away, away from your addicting stare and those beautiful eyes.

'Thank- what?'

Did I hear that right?

'You're going to think about giving me my own position back? I made it in the first place! It was made for me!' If anybody walked past the two of your right now, they would surely think you were about to rip his head off.

'A lot has changed since then Y/N' He attempted to walk away but you had other plans.

'Where do you think you're going? We're not done here!' You ran in front of him.

'Y/N I have business to attend to'

'So do I, and it's this' He let out an exasperated sigh.

'I said I'll think about it, I never said no'

'But you never said yes'

'I'll have to run it by the King and the rest of the council. How do you think they'll respond to me appointing a brand new Grisha as Deputy-General? A Grisha like you nonetheless, they’ve never heard of your kind'

There it was. A Grisha like me. He was scared.

'I'll talk to them myself then, maybe even tell him a story or two.' You were so enraged you considered going to the King right then and there. With a little pressure on his old heart, you would be sure to get his approval.

His demeanor suddenly changed. You were talking to the General now. Great, you thought he's talking to the Deputy-General.

'Don't you even dare.'

'You're not leaving me with much of a choice. I'll reduce this place to ash if you're not careful with your words, Aleksander' You went to turn and leave but he gripped your arm and he pulled you closer to him.

'You are so sure of yourself. Did all those years alone make you so arrogant, or were you always like this?' His words were like venom to your heart but fuel for your rage. You shook his hand off.

'That is very rich of you to say don't you think?' Your hands suddenly felt very fidgety and hot.

'Y/N I suggest you calm down before making threats to your General. You should be glad I haven't chained you thus far.' His own hands balled into fists as he restrained himself.

This was your last straw, with a loud whoosh, you sent a stream of fire his way to distract him while a nice gust of wind knocked him to his knees in front of you. You grasped his hands in yours and slowed his heartbeat, relaxing him. His eyes swirled with fear.

'Go on, send the shadows, I'll gladly take them' you said through your teeth.

Suddenly you saw movement out of the corner of your eye, oprichniki. Aleksander looked at them and shook his head. Ivan looked livid. Good for him.

You roughly let go and took a step back, disappointed that he didn't make a move.

'You better think quickly' You warned and walked off.

Suits him right.

******

Your chambers were trashed, the mirrors smashed and the bed overturned. Screams and shouts still echoed over the walls yet nobody came to check on you. The whole reason for your return was to take back your title, to be yourself again, and leave your nasty past behind you.

You swore you were better now, that you could control your impulses, that power wasn't a temptation anymore, but you were wrong. You undermined Aleksander today, embarrassed the General in front of his soldiers. But he didn't punish you. You always knew that wherever Aleksander was involved, your loss of control followed. You never understood why.

He got one thing right though, you needed to calm down. Your mind couldn't get over the feeling right before the guards came, the feeling of almost having his glorious shadows. Of almost having that part of him again. There it is again, the temptation of power. You shook your head to rid of the thought.

You had momentarily thought about taking Alina and some of her power, but quite frankly you didn't feel the need anymore. Shadows were your thing, you always had an air of darkness. So does he. You didn't fit the light, but she did.

Sleep wouldn't come to you, not even briefly. You stared at the damage of the room in the moonlight and thought back to the image of him on his knees in front of you, fearing evident in his eyes. He looked so good on his knees.

You shot up from the bed and yanked the door open, walking with a purpose, your rage having a strange effect on you. You needed him.

******

Aleksander sat at his desk, halfway through a bottle of whiskey. He couldn't stop thinking of what you did. How such a small thing had affected you and made you snap. Your eyes held darkness he had never seen before, not even in himself.

He hoped your intentions were pure, it was better than the reality he imagined in his head as you held an iron grip on his hands and slowed his heart. You looked hungry; ravenous for more.

There was a time when your power made him more attracted to you, you were his equal in his eyes. Together the two of you were unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with. But all of it changed when he seen how little you understood the power you had. Your powers were always ruled by your emotions and not by you. Today just proved to him that even after 98 years of practice, you were still a loose cannon.

He couldn't bring himself to use the shadows on you, not because you would've taken them, but because he didn't want to hurt you. For a split second, he was scared you would do something to him, but it was overpowered by the fear of what you could do to his life; turn it upside down and inside out. And he would let you.

He couldn't decide if he hated you for undermining him or whether he wanted you even more than he ever did. The tension between you two was always thick, but when he was on his knees in front of you, he couldn't help but think back to all the times he'd done it willingly, worshipping you at your feet. Rightfully so. You were a goddess in his eyes.

A door opening and shutting tore him away from his thoughts. He looked up and there you were, in nothing but a nightgown, flushed and breathing hard.

Part 9

ITS COMING sorry I’m making u wait but there’s nothing better than post-fight (literally) sex 😊😊😊

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl

#imagine #shadow and bone #the darkling #the darkling x reader #alexander #alexander morozova #alina starkov #ben barnes #grisha #fanfic #kefta #series #one shot #general kirigan x reader #black general #general kirigan #little palace #imagine.