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ladyartemesia · 4 years

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The Praetor

◐ PART VI of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Series Masterlist ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Part III ◐ Part IV ◐ Part V ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Hard Mature 18+ (for this installment)

Warnings: sexual content including grinding and marking, some light (and totally consensual) manhandling, ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming. Violence and discussion of violence relating to ritual combat, possessive behavior, injuries and discussion of injuries

Special Note: Yoonji and Yunli are NOT the same person. Yoonji is Yoongi and Yunli’s cousin. She is sometimes affectionately called “Ji-ah.”

Word Count: 5500 (wow)

Author’s Note: Life has been really hard. I won’t beat around the bush. It was hard to do anything... but your kind words and support really kept me going. Truly you guys straight up manifested this chapter with your incredible support. As always, my angels @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @underthejoon were the best betas and the best friends anyone could ask for. My thanks to ALL of you for helping me bring this story to life!

“Alpha.”

Namjoon’s voice echoed through the clearing with profound resonance.

There would be no more fighting.

There would be no more doubt.

It was a complete surrender, the kind only a true Alpha could compel.

A frantic whimper suddenly split the air, drawing every eye to you-

But you saw only him.

“Untie me,” you pleaded, struggling impatiently against the restraints.

One of the elders moved to release you, but before she could, Jin produced a knife and cut you free with the kind of terrifying precision expected of a man who was every bit as deadly as he was beautiful.

Then you were running - and this time, no one could stop you.

Your body crashed into his and fiery joy shot through you as he pulled you into his arms.

His scent wrapped around your senses like a warm blanket, covering the fear and pain of the past days in unimaginable relief.

“Jimin.”

“I’m here. I have you,” he whispered.

Your entire frame seemed to shake as you sobbed against his chest. It was as if you could not draw close enough - could not hold tight enough - to be satisfied. Part of you was still terrified that you would wake up and discover that all of this had been a dream...

Then you heard it.

Another set of knees hitting the ground.

“Alpha.”

Then another-

“Alpha.“

And another

“Alpha.”

Till the air was filled with hundreds of voices, all speaking the same word.

“Alpha.”

Namjoon remembered very little of what happened after his surrender...

Just pain.

His limbs seemed oddly disconnected from the rest of his body. There was blood everywhere (and he was reasonably sure it was his).

He knew he should feel defeated, broken - ashamed even.

Instead he felt strangely...

Light.

As if a great weight had lifted from his shoulders.

The last thing he saw before losing consciousness entirely was Yunli’s tear-stained gaze - still fixed on him - even as the others turned to face their new Alpha.

He breathed out her name in a quiet, desperate plea as the darkness overtook him.

Jimin was only in your arms a few moments before healers and half the elder’s council came rushing forward on all sides.

You snarled instinctively at the first elder who tried to collect him, but a healer eventually got close enough to reason with you after pointing out that the wound on his shoulder could possibly become infected if left untreated for much longer.

An Alpha’s injuries always took the highest priority, but Jimin directed them all toward Namjoon, brushing away anyone who attempted to tend to him.

By that point Jin and your mother had found their way to your side and were gently trying to pull you back - even as more elders reached for your mate.

Everyone was speaking at once - words about preparations and plans and ceremonies - but none of it registered over the waves of frantic adrenaline still pounding through your system.

You didn’t know what they wanted or why they were so close-

just that they were trying to take him away again.

No.

Suddenly a senior elder placed his hand on Jimin’s forearm and your wolf snapped entirely.

Omegas were known for their speed and as a Luna, yours was unparalleled.

Two council members and a healer went flying into the dirt within the space of a single second as your body instinctively assumed a defensive stance. The remaining elders stumbled back in alarm and your mother fainted dead away forcing Jin to catch her rather inelegantly.

Your canines began to lengthen as you pressed your back to the Alpha, letting primal rage guide your movements.

They had tied you up.

Forced you to watch as he was attacked again and again and again-

An omega would defend their mate to the death and you had spent days knowing he was in danger...

Feeling powerless, feeling paralyzed-

Your wolf had simply had enough.

“Luna please-“ the chief elder began cautiously, but you cut him off with warning growl and lunged - fully prepared to end the next person who attempted to separate you from-

Strong arms closed around you, pulling you back to the comforting warmth that enveloped you moments ago.

Jimin.

“Luna,” he whispered against your skin and you shivered, letting your eyes flutter shut.

Then you felt it.

The gentle pressure of the Alpha - your mate - nosing softly at your neck.

It was a gesture of soothing affection.

Of gratitude.

Slowly he turned you in his arms till you were facing him once again. The fire in your blood began to fade as you simply took him in, struck by the sensual beauty of his face and the possessive heat in his gaze.

“So fierce,” he hummed, tilting his head so you could bury yourself in his scent once more. His hands brushed soothing circles over your back, leaving delicious sparks of pleasure in their wake.

“I’m safe,” he promised as you nuzzled into him needily. “You can rest now...”

The pleasant pull of his command wove heavily through your senses. You felt your feet leave the ground as he lifted you fully into his arms...

Then you slipped into a blissful sleep.

The healers worked for hours on Namjoon.

Some betas were blessed with minor healing abilities - a valuable gift stemming from a type of energy transference. He could feel the heat of their hands as they poured themselves - literally - into mending his battered body.

His ribs were set and wrapped tightly and the swelling and bruising were already beginning to fade due to the assortment of vile tasting herbal concoctions they insisted on ramming down his throat.

Accelerated healing and potent herbal intervention truly went a long way, but it would take time and rest to restore him fully.

Despite his lingering soreness, Namjoon was finally lucid enough to think for the first time since the fight and there was certainly a wealth of things to think about…

Yet his mind kept going back to that moment-

To her.

“Kim Namjoon.”

Every hair on his body raised to attention.

“Alpha-”

He struggled to pull himself upright, but Jimin placed a hand on his arm to still him.

“Please,” he spoke softly, “let me sit. I’ve caused you enough trouble for one day.”

A painful chuckle stuttered out of Namjoon and he shook his head.

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that? We both know this is entirely my fault.”

Jimin’s eyes dropped in reluctant amusement..

“You think rather highly of yourself,” he said with a barely perceptible grin, echoing his words in the chief elder’s chambers a day - a lifetime - ago. “I believe I had something to do with it as well.”

Namjoon laughed and winced immediately. He rubbed gingerly over the binding on his ribs before voicing the question that had plagued him from the moment he awoke.

“How quickly?”

The Alpha tilted his head in confusion. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“How quickly,” Namjoon grunted, pulling himself to an upright position, “could you have killed me?”

There was a strange sort of acceptance in his eyes, a profound and untainted respect that Jimin was wholly unused to receiving from a man like him.

It was equal parts humbling and overwhelming.

“The first hit... a little to the left - at full force - would have fractured your sternum and penetrated your heart. You’d have been dead in a matter of minutes.”

Namjoon was silent for a long time.

“Why did you spare me? ...I challenged you, threatened you, intended to lay claim to your mate which-” he rubbed idly at the back of his neck, “I’m beginning to understand is enough to enrage any man… So why am I still here?”

“Because,” Jimin sighed, “apparently I think very highly of you too, Kim Namjoon.”

“Well… I’m flattered, but I - I still don’t understand… I’ve done nothing but underestimate you. Most wolves would have made an example of me.”

“Oh I intend to make an example of you,” Jimin smiled and Namjoon felt his blood run cold for the briefest instant, “but not in the way you’re thinking.”

The Alpha’s eyes took on a strangely solemn light. “I have no intention of ruling through fear and violence.”

After a moment, his gaze met Namjoon’s again.

“You were right… Without your challenge, the pack would never have trusted my leadership. You were the obvious choice to be Alpha and without defeating you decisively, they would always look to you as an alternative.”

Namjoon eyed his collection of injuries sardonically.

“Something tells me you won’t have that issue now.”

“And I have you to thank for that.”

“So … you spared my life in gratitude?”

“I spared your life because it was well worth sparing. You have always led your clan with honor and dignity. You don’t strike me as someone who enjoys killing, yet you were willing to do so for the good of our people. Such a man is a far better example alive than he is dead.”

Namjoon could not help but be impressed by the younger alpha’s insight and perception.

Our goddess has chosen well.

“I am grateful for your mercy, Alpha... Though I’m sure there are some who believe I should have chosen death over the disgrace of defeat.”

Jimin’s jaw clenched. .

“Defeat is not a disgrace. I have learned some of my greatest lessons from it. Defeat is often a vital stop on the path to victory.”

The elder alpha grinned.

“I wouldn’t know. This is the first time I’ve lost.”

Jimin laughed and Namjoon’s impish smile suddenly became oddly serious.

“I want you to know… You have my loyalty - without question - and not simply because you spared me. It is clear that you were meant to lead.”

A subtle hint of awe crept into his tone as he continued.

“Honestly… I’ve only ever heard stories of primal alphas. I never thought I’d meet one,” he snorted, “or be foolish enough to fight him.“

Jimin drew back in confusion.

“I’m not familiar- ...I’ve never heard of a primal alpha.”

“Really?... Well ...I suppose that makes sense. I forgot how often you skipped camp.” He sighed and shifted into a more comfortable position before answering.

“A primal alpha is goddess-blessed. They cannot be compelled. Their command is powerful enough to compel members of other packs and even non-wolves. It is a rare gift.”

Jimin’s face easily betrayed his shock.

“I-...That’s-” he shook his head. “Why do you believe I have such a gift?”

“I suppose the first hint should have been your coloring. Silver wolves are never born to mundane destinies... But the real proof is in your eyes.” Namjoon leaned back against the headboard, quietly reliving the moment he discovered the depth of Jimin’s ability. “When you commanded me to yield, your eyes flashed gold. It’s the true sign of a primal alpha... of a king.”

King.

The word fell heavily between them.

A human king was a politician, a figurehead whose power became more symbolic as the ages passed.

But to the wolf nations, a king - an Alpha - was the heart of their pack. A warrior who bore the burden of leadership alongside his Luna.

The power of a wolf king was quite real.

The Alpha shifted uncomfortably

“I never thought I would be a king.”

“And I never thought I wouldn’t be.” His eyes dropped to his hands. “I’m not quite sure what I am anymore.”

“Perhaps I can help with that.”

Namjoon’s gaze met his with cautious curiosity.

“Oh?”

“You said yourself I skipped Alpha camp every year. I may have been destined to lead, but I won’t pretend that I’m completely prepared for it.”

All at once Namjoon realized why Jimin was there.

The transfer of power was a long and intricate process that should remain essentially uninterrupted until its completion.

There could only be one reason the Alpha had come to his bedside.

He was here to appoint his Praetor.

A Praetor wielded nearly as much authority as the Alpha. In terms of pack hierarchy, only the Alpha outranked him (or her). The commitment required was immense. Their role encompassed everything from ‘chief advisor’ to ‘the last line of defense.’

Praetor were expected to cut all obligations to their own clan and serve only the Alpha. They were an extension of his authority and vision. It was a lifetime appointment which could be extremely dangerous (depending on the number of territorial disputes one’s pack might be involved in).

If anything were to happen to the Alpha, a Praetor would assume the responsibility of protecting the Luna and ruling by her side (without any romantic obligations as Praetor often had their own mates) until their death.

“What about Taehyung?”

Jimin shrugged.

“What about him? I assure you, he has no interest in this at all.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides, he serves me well as a best friend... A Praetor must be willing to disagree with me from time to time without worrying too much about my feelings. They must be in tune with the needs of the pack. Kim Taehyung is a good man… but he isn’t the right one. Not for this.”

The elder alpha considered his next words carefully.

“What you’re asking is no small request.”

“True,” Jimin nodded, “but how about this…” he grinned mischievously, “I promise to put in a good word for you with Min Yoongi when he finds out what you’ve done to his little sister.”

“I haven’t done anything to his little sister.”

“Yet.”

Namjoon cleared his throat guiltily.

“You realize this means we’ll have to talk every single day.”

“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for the good of the pack.”

Namjoon laughed and Jimin smiled back, more sure than ever that he was making the right choice.

After a moment the Alpha held out his hand in an age old ceremonial gesture and finally voiced the question he had come to ask.

“Kim Namjoon, will you forsake your place in the clan of your blood to serve your Alpha and your pack as Praetor. Will you protect my blood as your own and fight by my side till the paths of our lives be complete?

Namjoon’s gaze locked with his as their palms met, letting the force of his resolve color each word.

“I swear it shall be so.”

It was well past noon when you stumbled from your bedroom to find Jin spread luxuriously over your kitchen island, popping berries into his mouth like a debauched satyr.

“I feel very odd…” you yawned, “almost like I-”

“Attacked half the elders council in a fit of horny rage?”

Your jaw dropped.

“I did no such thing!” A few choice memories began to flood back and your staunch defensive tirade stuttered in shock. “Wait...Did I-”

“You did.”

“I wouldn’t call it horny rage,” you muttered, massaging your temples as you struggled to process your own actions.

“I don’t know, the whole thing looked very horny to me.”

“Everything looks horny to you.”

Jin grinned but didn’t bother denying it.

“What do you remember?”

“I remember…” you pulled a water bottle from the fridge and took a long drink before answering,”...Jimin’s victory... People kept trying to take him away and then-”

Heat streaked across the back of your neck as you recalled the press of his lips on your skin.

“Oh...”

You shivered deliciously.

Jin sighed. “Yes, you were quite the spectacle. Who knows how many throats you would have ripped out if the Alpha had not intervened.”

“Oh goddess,” you moaned, burying your face in your hands. “He probably thinks I’m a lunatic.”

Jin rolled his eyes.

“I wonder if there is a celestial punishment for smacking the Luna upside the head.”

“Punishable by death - for sure,” you pouted, “and why would you even want to do that?”

“Because you’re an idiot. The man risked his life for you in ritual combat and then carried you home in his arms all the way from the sacred circle like a fairy tale princess.”

“He... he did?”

Your cousin nodded and tossed another berry in his mouth.

“The whole scene was so disgustingly romantic. I would have swooned if I wasn’t left to haul your mother back. Honestly I think I threw out my back.”

“And - and the pack?”

“They were free to swoon since they weren’t carrying your mother and most of them did. The man has become a bit of a legend already. Namjoon is one of the strongest alphas in the mountain kingdoms and Park Jimin dispatched him like it was nothing.” He paused to dab berry juice off his absurdly full lips. “I’d be surprised if every pack for a hundred miles hasn’t heard about it by now.”

“How is Namjoon?”

“Alive. He will make a full recovery.”

You sighed in relief. Truly, you had no desire to mate with the Kim alpha, but (despite the grumbling of your bloodthirsty wolf) you never wanted him dead.

Not to mention the loss of Namjoon would have cast a heavy shade over Jimin’s leadership. He was wise to spare him.

“Where is he? I want to see him.”

“Namjoon is with the healers-”

“Kim Seokjin,” you bopped him with your now empty water bottle. “I am obviously not talking about Namjoon. Where is my mate?!”

“Calm down, cousin. You’re getting that throat-rippy gleam in your eye again and I’m far too beautiful to go out like that.”

He reached for another berry.

“I need to see him.”

You were already marching toward the door when Jin yanked you back. It was always a surprise to see how fast he could move when he wanted to.

“My dear sweet Luna, you have one murderous rampage and forget all about our tedious traditions. The elders will be drowning him in the preparations and expectations of leadership for at least another ten hours.”

None of Jin’s sensible reminders mattered the least bit to your wolf. She was already suggesting all sorts of reasons you should just march into the council chambers and take him.

Park Jimin was yours.

You’ve waited long enough.

Your hand tightened on the doorknob.

“He left something for you.”

Kim Seokjin really was a wickedly clever man. He knew exactly which cards to play and exactly when to play them.

Your heart stuttered wildly in your chest as Jin nodded toward a small box on the table.

“He sent Taehyung to drop it off not long after the elders dragged him away from your bedside.”

If you had even an ounce of dignity left, you might have been embarrassed by how quickly you scrambled over to the gift, but you were well past caring about such things when it came to him.

Your cousin shook his head as you eagerly tore into the wrapping, impatient to discover what he could have possibly-

You gasped.

There, laying nestled in an ornate wooden box with a lavish blue satin interior, was the most beautiful pair of gloves you had ever seen…

Your fingers reached out to brush the soft white leather, custom stitched with intricately embroidered vines that wound around a beautiful silver wolf.

“They’re exquisite.”

Jim’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“They’re not just exquisite, they’re one of a kind.” His fingers traced over the emblem on the box. “This is the mark of the Bangtan Leatherworkers Guild. Every one of their pieces is unique.”

Your head tilted curiously as Jin began to lift back the satin lining.

“What are you doing?”

“You can only buy their merchandise directly from the shop in Seoul. There’s no way he could have gotten these today.”

“R...Really?”

Jin nodded.

“I’m about to find out for sure. Each piece produced by the guild comes with a certification. It includes the date of manufacture and the date of sale.”

After a moment he withdrew a small card embossed with gold writing.

“Well... what does it say?” you pressed impatiently.

An odd little smile drifted across Jin’s lips as he considered the information in his hands.

“These gloves were sold to Park Jimin three years ago... a few days before your 17th birthday.”

Min Yunli slept for most of the day after Taehyung brought her home.

The Alpha ordered his second to secure her and see to her safety not long after lifting the Luna into his arms.

In the end, Tae had to compel her again.

She fought to stay near Namjoon, but he needed medical attention and there was no real reason to allow her any access to the fallen alpha.

She had no claim on him.

She was nothing to him.

Nothing at all.

When she finally opened her eyes the sun was already dipping low on the horizon and the world around her was dim.

Aching emptiness sat heavily in her chest. The Change was another six days away which meant the connection between her consciousness and her wolf was not fully solidified… but she could still feel acidic pain of rejection festering in both halves of her heart.

Tears fell silently down her cheek as she considered her actions and what the consequences might be.

Namjoon probably hated her now. She had ruined everything for him.

An angry growl rumbled up from her stomach.

Yunli snorted humorously and shrugged off her dirty clothes, throwing on an oversized t-shirt before trudging out to the refrigerator.

Of all the problems she was facing, hunger was the easiest to fix.

“Do you normally walk around without pants?”

She just barely bit back a scream.

There - sitting on her couch (and looking significantly better than he had the last time she’d seen him) - was Kim Namjoon.

“How did you get in here?!” Yunli squeaked.

Namjoon held up a key.

“Yoongi gave it to me years ago.”

Though I doubt he intended for me to use it like this.

Her fists clenched and unclenched reflexively at her side.

“Have you… come to yell at me?” she whispered.

Namjoon didn’t respond right away, he was too distracted by the shapely curve of her legs and the soft glow of her skin under the warmth of the living room lamps.

Yunli, however, took his silence as confirmation of her worst fears.

“I’m so sorry...” she trembled, her beautiful eyes glistening poetically with unshed tears. “I don’t - I don’t know what came over me - I know I cost you the fight and I-”

Namjoon felt a chuckle bubble up in chest and winced.

“Yunli...your screams, however affecting, could not undo the will of the goddess.” He shook his head, “Park Jimin was born to be the Alpha.” His fingers rubbed idly at his chest. “I’ve never come across anything like his power.”

Her eyes traced over the damage to his body with obvious remorse.

“Are you ok?” she asked finally.

He had four cracked ribs, several critical lacerations, a concussion, two sprained elbows, countless contusions, and a split lip.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” he shrugged, barely suppressing a groan.

Yunli grinned, helplessly endeared as always. She opened her mouth to ask again why he was here, but he cut her off with a surprisingly curt question.

“Has Taehyung seen you like this?”

Yunli blinked. Twice.

“T-Taehyung? Like Kim Taehyung - your cousin?”

“Second cousin,” he growled, “I was told he brought you home.”

“Well. Yes. He did… I’m really grateful to him actually. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t caught me and calmed me down.”

A loud ringing was building in Namjoon’s ears.

“Do you have an understanding with him?” he snarled.

Yunli’s jaw dropped.

“An understanding? With Yoonji’s Taehyung?!” She snorted. “I don’t have a death wish.”

“What’s Yoonji got to do with this? Isn’t she in Europe?”

“Never mind that. Why would you think Tae and I-”

“Tae?!”

Yunli’s eyes narrowed.

“What’s going on in that busted up skull of yours, Kim Namjoon?”

Namjoon was off the couch and pressing her against the wall faster than she would have thought possible in his condition.

“What’s going on is that for the past year you’ve been a real problem for me, Min Yunli.”

Yunli gasped as the muscled lines of his body weighed firmly into her own. Deep curls of pleasure flared up at every contact point.

Yes. Oh goddess, yes.

The force of his desire burned hot in the air between them. She had waited years for him to see her like this - to touch her like this...

“I wasn’t supposed to feel anything when you looked at me with your heart in those pretty brown eyes,” he murmured, brushing the tips of his fingers up over her arms till he was cupping her chin.

Yunli’s wolf keened in delight as she melted helplessly into his embrace.

It felt good. It felt so so good.

“I was convinced you were a challenge - a divine temptation put in my path to test my resolve-” his jaw clenched, “or simply an endless source of torment because you wanted me so badly and I could never have you.”

The sound of ripping fabric split the air as Namjoon clawed through the neckline of her t-shirt, baring her pert little breasts to him like an obscene feast.

“I was supposed to want the Luna,” he growled, squeezing the soft mounds roughly in his palms till she was whining and writhing against him, “-not Min Yoongi’s sweet little sister.”

Her gaze was so open - so trusting. Adoration shone through every inch of her regard and it was intoxicating.

She was intoxicating.

His hand slid down to grip her thighs, lifting her body till she was forced to wrap her legs around him for balance.

“Namjoon,” she whimpered as the sensitive folds of her core ground into his growing hardness.

“You just kept pushing and pushing-” he hissed, punctuating each word with delicious thrusts till the maddening pressure in her center was nearly unbearable. “Then last night you offered me a taste and it nearly destroyed me.”

His mouth finally descended on hers again and she opened to him eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck with wanton desperation. A tortured groan slipped past his lips as he dragged her away from the wall and onto the sofa where she first discovered him.

“Is this what you wanted, Min Yunli?” he rasped between the fervent mating of their mouths. “To make me desperate? To take me apart until I’m half-mad with wanting you?”

“Yes,” she sobbed as he sucked mark after mark into her flesh, painting her body with the evidence of his passion.

She slipped her hands greedily under his shirt, aching to feel more of his skin against her own. Needy whines and moans fell from her mouth like a siren’s call, beckoning Namjoon to lose himself in the lush warmth of her body.

“If Kim Taehyung puts his greasy hands on you again, I’ll kill him.”

Yunli mewled in primal gratification at his bold words. She had waited far too long to hear them.

“All those months I suffered because my wolf recognized what I was too ignorant to see.”

The last shreds of her shirt flew across the room and Namjoon pinned her wrists above her head like a pagan offering, allowing his free hand to explore her curves with impassioned reverence.

“You are mine, Yunli,” he swore.

And she was.

She always had been.

Following Jimin’s victory, the pack exploded into a chaotic storm of gossip and ceremonial preparations. The story of his unlikely path to power had already spread beyond the borders of the mountain kingdoms.

“-messages are coming in from the high packs of Delhi and Beijing requesting to meet with him-“

The rise of new pack leaders typically brought with it a buzz of excitement, but the Luna and her newly victorious Alpha were anything but typical.

“-he’s a silver wolf. I always knew he was meant for more than just heading up the Park clan-“

The last Alpha king (the current Luna’s great-grandfather) died peacefully in his sleep nearly thirty years ago and the elder’s council ruled in the interim while they waited for a new Alpha to rise. This was the first (and likely the only) coronation most people would see in their lifetime.

“ - my friend from Seoul is begging me to invite her. Outsiders aren’t allowed to attend unless they’re the guest of a pack member- “

Preparations to transfer power were every bit as tedious and time consuming as the rest of pack law.

“-the council just announced that he’s chosen a Praetor. I’m sure it will be Taehyung-“

Aside from sneaking out to secure his Praetor (who was not Taehyung), the new Alpha had been holed up with the council, the heads of the ten major clans, and an army of envoys from other packs for nearly twelve hours.

“ -grandfather worked with him all day. He claims that the future king has already impressed the council-”

Park Jimin’s name echoed through the mountain kingdoms. People could speak of nothing else.

But there was one member of the pack who had not yet heard the news...

Yoongi took a deep breath as he waited for the woman on the other end of the line to accept his call. He was mentally and physically exhausted, but he had promised to tell her what happened as soon as he could.

Silence lingered eerily in the first few moments after she picked up.

“I really debated answering this,” Min Yoonji whispered at last. “I don’t know if I can bear to hear you say that Park Jimin is dead.”

She sighed heavily as she ambled down the stairs of her tiny apartment in Paris.

There were too many happy memories connected with him. He was Tae’s best friend... His loss would tear her former lover apart.

And she could not be there for him when it did.

She could never be there for him...

Several thousand miles away her cousin smiled.

“Park Jimin is not dead, Ji-ah.”

Yoonji missed the last step and crashed down inelegantly on her tail bone.

“WHAT?!” Her fingers scrambled to hold the phone secure in her precarious position. “You mean to tell me that Kim Namjoon lost - to PARK JIMIN?!”

“You sure picked a wild time to move to Europe,” Yoongi chuckled.

“I didn’t really move here per se... I just relocated temporarily but indefinitely.”

“Yes, I’m well aware. Your mother is still howling about what a disgrace it was to go through the Change away from your friends and family. So thank you for that.”

Yoonji sighed.

“What’s done is done... I know you don’t understand, but I promise to explain someday.” Her eyes drifted shut as she forced the pain in her heart aside. “... I can’t believe I missed all this. You have to tell me how he did it.”

“I will later, but I need to head back to the council chambers. We had a brief recess and I figured I’d call since it’s still early over there. However… I do have one last shocking revelation for you before I go.”

Yoonji rolled her eyes at her cousin’s dramatics.

“I’m not sure anything could shock me after finding out that Park Jimin is our new Alpha.”

“Jimin just made Namjoon his Praetor.”

Apparently I was wrong.

“WHAT!? So wait - that means Jinwook is now head of the Kim Clan?”

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Jinwook? No, how could - ah never mind. You were already in Europe when he left.”

“Jinwook left?!”

“Yeah, he was finishing up a consultation in Bangkok when he met his mate in one of the packs up there. It's an older pack with almost no alphas so they asked him to stay. He’s lived in Thailand since August.” Yoongi yawned. “Believe it or not Kim Taehyung was just sworn in as the Kim Clan alpha.”

Dead silence met his declaration. For a moment he wondered if the call had been disconnected but then-

“...What... did you just say?”

Yoonji’s voice had taken on a strange hollow quality that had her cousin frowning into the receiver.

“I said Taehyung was just sworn in as a Clan alpha.”

“That... no that can’t be right... You’re saying Kim Taehyung - my Taehyung-”

“What do you mean your Taehyung?!”

“- is a Clan alpha?”

“Yoonji. I can’t believe I’m repeating this a third time. Yes. Tae is the new head of the Kim Clan. I watched him take the oath twenty minutes ago and I have to say-”

A heart wrenching sob cut him off abruptly.

“Oh goddess what have I done,” she gasped.

Yoongi’s eyes widened in fear and alarm.

“Ji-ah? What’s wrong?... Ji-ah?... Ji-ah?!”

But the line was dead.

Don’t Miss Chapter VII: The Luna… Coming Soon!

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please comment on this post. If you have already asked then you will be automatically tagged in all future updates.

Guys I cannot emphasize enough how much your support has meant to me these last few weeks.

Your comments and your love kept me going. I truly value it so much and it fuels my creativity. Please let me know what you thought? It is incredibly rewarding and motivating to hear from you!

I really struggled with this update. It was much longer and took a lot out of me... I hope you love the final product as much as I do…

Bonus: The gloves Jimin sent his Luna...

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azulathetrashyler · 2 years

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HOW THIS BLOG WORKS AND WHO YOU CAN ASK! ^^ (and DNI(do not interact) at the bottom-) okay so this blog will use GACHACLUB images bc I cant draw too well. (If I see anything nsfw in my inbox I swear to god I will hurt someone-)

Characters you can ask:

Sun&moon (obviously)

ProtoSun, a scrapped prototype of sun from before they developed moon. Has haphephobia so if you send a ask saying you hug them or something, he will freak out-

golden-moon, an attendant who mostly handles children with disorders like adhd, autism etc. only comes out during Halloween, and real-life eclipses(in their world)

solar, an attendant who handles the children when someone is overwhelmed by the light, and the dark. Very childish, 12FT tall.

lunar, the moon to solars sun. Hates everything. Literally EVERYTHING- aside from his brother solar. :3

partial-eclipse. An entirely separate attendant with his own body, which has 4 arms in total! Usually he’s pissing off roxanne wolf.

StarSwirl, the younger sister of sun, moon, solar, lunar, golden and partial. She’s a star themed animatronic and she’s the blog-pfp!

I might add other OC’s when I make them, and I will allow asks to characters such as the glamrock’s and gregory.

speaking of other oc’s, i’ve made another-

Mars, a 3 y/o mars themed attendant mainly for entertaining kids ages 1-3, child-alters of systems (DID) and people who are in little-space (yes, age regressors are allowed to stay at this version of the daycare.) he usually wears a glamrock Freddy onesie, and can’t speak too well as he’s meant to be pretty young still.

my sleep paralysis demon AU is also open for asks, the GACHA designs will be- quite weird- but Y’know👍

the sun& moon show’s versions of sun, moon eclipse, lunar & bloodmoon are also up for asks bc i’ve got an AU for them :>

i’ve also got another Au called “The kindergarten AU”, for more info on them search in my tags “FNaF security breach kindergarten AU” or something =v= They are also open for asks! :D

and there’s yet another AU- “Split-Eclipse AU” based on a little theory I had *cough 2 hours ago at time of editing cough* where eclipses personality is split between the asshole half which is what we usually see, and the somewhat “yeah okay they do actually give a damn about others and regret the bullshit they’ve done” half, cuz we’ve seen that eclipse does care for lunar slightly in “Eclipse BETRAYS Lunar in VRChat” as he wants to apologize and says a few things that do indeed indicate that he cares a bit. But this theory/AU is basically (I’m assuming) just my brain still desperately trying to find a way to redeem eclipse- yeah anywho that’s also something that you can ask about.

that’s all! All kinds of asks are appreciated! Angst, wholesome, t-word👀 all welcome here! Just nothing nsfw or suggestive bc I’m asexual and I’d prefer we DIDNT have that sort of thing around here ;w;

perfectly fine: 8+ (dunno why 8 y/o’s would be on tumblr, but I’m comfortable with people up to 17) non-pervs & people who respect my boundaries & other stuff

thin ice: 18+ (sorry noodle-) TOXIC & PROBLEMATIC fandom members, (FNaF, DSMP, Undertale etc-)

DNI I’M UNCOMFY: 22+ I’m not comfy, toxic dream Stans(go away man- I don’t need that crazy shit-) furry haters, people who think hypnotist Sappho has done nothing wrong- they exist. And any other toxic people. Asking for other socials, that’s a no no.

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taylorscottbarnett · 2 years

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Corpses have more rights over their bodies than someone with uterus does now.

If I die, you can't take my organs to save another life if I didn't consent. Period.

Furthermore your family can refuse to allow your organs to be donated after your death, EVEN IF you consented in life.

A fucking corpse has more bodily autonomy than a woman does in 2022 America.

Not only is bodily autonomy a human right, it is the foundation upon which other human rights are built.

And it was just hit with a sledgehammer in America today.

This is a dark day for America.

This is a dark day for Americans.

This is a dark day for religious freedom.

This is a dark day for anyone with a uterus in America.

In Texas right now is a law that bans abortion after six weeks. It only allows only private citizens, not state officials, to enforce it's abortion bans. That provision keeps the law from being challenged as unconstitutional in federal court. Any person can enforce state law. Anyone. And get a payment from the state for doing so. Because it specifically bars state officials from enforcing the law, it can't be challenged in federal court.

Idaho’s law bans abortion after about six weeks, and allows family members (including a rapist’s relatives) of the “preborn child” to sue a provider who performs an abortion. Totally legal.

Missouri favors a bill that allows private citizens to sue an out-of-state abortion provider, or even someone who helps transport a person across state lines for an abortion.

What's more, if a far-right SCOTUS can overturn Roe v Wade, a decades-long precedent, they can overturn Romer v. Evans, aka: when the court found that 14th Amendment’s equal protection clause applied LGBTQ. It declared laws can't single-out LGBTQ people to take away their rights.

It can overturn Griswold v. Connecticut. A case that struck down a state ban on contraceptives

It can overturn Bowers v. Hardwick.

The court at the time found that the due process clause of the fourteenth amendment gave the petitioners “the full right to engage in private conduct without government intervention… The Texas statute furthers no legitimate state interest which can justify its intrusion into the individual’s personal and private life.” it was the 2003 landmark ruling that declared all laws in the US making gay sex a crime unconstitutional. That individuals have: “the full right to engage in private conduct without government intervention… ".

It can gut Obergefell v Hodges. The landmark ruling that Kennedy declared: “It is demeaning to lock same-sex couples out of a central institution of the Nation’s society, for they too may aspire to the transcendent purposes of marriage."

This is not hyperbolic. Republican Senators have already made these comments questioning decisions that made state bans on contraceptives unconstitutional, decisions that made states recognize same-sex marriage, and even Loving v. Virginia. That one btw declared that laws banning interracial marriage violate the Equal Protection and Due Process Clauses of the Fourteenth Amendment

Sitting SCOTUS Justice Clarence Thomas himself has already made clear he wants the court to overturn the cases that legalized marriage equality, same-sex intimacy, and the right to use birth control. Specifically he stated:

"For that reason, in future cases, we should reconsider all of this Court’s substantive due process precedents, including Griswold, Lawrence, and Obergefell. Because any substantive due process decision is demonstrably erroneous."

Red.

Fucking.

Alert.

Republicans must not be allowed anywhere near control of congress. It is very clear that there will be no system to protect us from their dreams to turn America's laws, protections, and established rights back half-a-century.

#abortion #politics #abortion rights #row v wade #scotus #us politics

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limeinaltime · 3 years

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I'm curious about the red core cult; you said they worship humans, but what does that even mean? Also, what's the deal with the red core, it seems like a lot more than just battery.

You might want to talk to @edibletrees2 about the cult since they created that entire plot, but I can answer questions about the red core. Warning: The Red Core! N arc is very dark.

There are three generations of murder drones in this AU, and each generation uses a specific type of core that functions to accommodate the programming and technology of that generation. Think of it like a “soul” of sorts, or an embodiment of the drone’s autonomy and sense of self. Internecion Drones use black cubes- I mean, cores (although X’s is a little weird), Disassembly Drones use yellow cores and Assassination Drones use red cores. Worker drone core colors vary and affect the color of the drone’s eyes.

Disassembly Drones and Assassination Drones are somewhat similar, but Assassination Drones are more advanced despite being made before the Disassembly Drones, who are more sustainable and easier to mass-produce. Therefore, the red core runs differently, and starts to fuck with N’s system and make him act different. It also prevents the backup of N’s memories and original programming due to incompatibility, so while the old N is still very much alive within himself, it’s like it’s being blocked off. It’s a total violation of the self (it’s basic knowledge across all drones, worker or murder, that handling someone else’s core requires total and utter consent because removal is extremely painful and violating).

The red core makes N more physically capable and stimulates his mind, erasing his self-doubt and tendency to second-guess his decisions, but it also tires him out and kind of puts a block on everything that makes him, well, N. His kindness, his empathy, his crush on V, his love of dogs, his friendship with Uzi- All repressed and “forgotten”. He cannot remember anything from before his cores were switched out, only that he was hurt and tired and alone and angry. Yup, the red core allows N to explore being angry on his own behalf. He doesn’t know why he felt so bad, just that the glitched-out beings that sneak into his dreams and occasional memory are to blame.

X, F and T are the only glitched-out memories who don’t bring N any grief, so he only regards them with curt respect, and he remains gentle with T, because while he does not remember her, she is still small and fragile, and he doesn’t like making her sad.

#murder drones #oc #asks #N does not have a good time

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dilly-oh · 4 years

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Red Hoodie of Fate

The blaring of the fire alarm woke Kakashi from a particularly good dream about tacos. He bolted upright, cracked his forehead on the coffee table, swore horrifically, and stumbled to his feet, blearily remembering falling asleep on the couch several hours ago. He must have rolled off at some point, maybe when he’d been sprinkling some cheese on those delicious tacos- no, stop. Food later. Fire now.

Thank God the dogs were at Yamato’s for the night, otherwise he might never have gotten out of the apartment. Bisuke was scared of loud noises and liable to hide in the deepest, darkest corner of the flat, while Bull would refuse to budge after laying down for anything less than the apocalypse. Pakkun probably would have just puked in anxiety and made matters worse, while Uhei, Akino, and Guruko would have simply started howling along with the siren. Urushi and Shiba were the only ones who’d have listened, and that was only if he had treats, which he no longer kept in his pockets after an unfortunate incident he didn’t care to repeat. He made a face as he recalled the taste.

Pulling on a pair of sneakers and a frayed red hoodie from the floor, Kakashi stuffed his keys and phone into his pockets before throwing open the door and lurching out into the hallway. He couldn’t see any flames or smoke, but he wasn’t going to sit around and wait to see if this was legit.

Maybe it was the brat from downstairs, playing pranks again. Kakashi had caught him stuffing a cat into someone’s mailbox the other day, so he definitely wouldn’t put it past the little punk. It had better not be those two idiots down the hall smoking weed again. Doors opened all along the hallway as tenants began pouring from their own apartments, hurrying down the hall and clogging the stairs like sleepy zombies. Kakashi shuffled along with them, letting the river of half-awake people drag him down several flights and out the front doors.

Kakashi milled around the parking lot with the chattering crowd, shivering at the cool night breeze and stuffing his hands into the hoodie’s front pockets. With nothing better to do than stand around awkwardly waiting for the fire-trucks, he glanced about, studying his neighbors one by one.

There was the brat, tousle-haired and sleepy-eyed, clinging to his mother’s long red braid, still half asleep. Near him was the emo kid who never brushed his hair and wore nothing but black – Kakashi was tempted to ask which make-up tutorial he used for his smoky eye. The two pot-heads were in the back, leaning against each other, dozing in place. There were more - the old man who wrote dirty novels and sometimes asked Kakashi for his expert opinion, the married couple from the floor above, and-

There was a man standing in the middle of the parking lot in nothing but a towel. Kakashi did a double-take before it processed.

He was dripping wet, water dribbling down his shoulders and pooling around his bare feet onto the pavement. Beads of moisture slowly made their way down the curve of his pectorals, glistening in the divots of his collarbone. Goosebumps had broken out over his tanned skin, pebbling his nipples, his long dark hair plastered to his neck and shoulders. He looked like some ancient Selkie come to seduce men to their watery graves, or a primordial God of the sea preparing to smite some mortals. And hopefully date him, dear God please.

Who the hell was that? Kakashi stared in shock, struggling to place him. He’d memorized every face in the building, and he certainly didn’t remember this Adonis, which was quite impossible. He had a whole grading system for every male in the building, and this knock-out would be graduating top of the class, Magna Cum Laud. Then the man turned his head and the light from the streetlamps hit just right, highlighting the faint slashing scar over the bridge of his nose-

Wait. Holy shit. Kakashi recognized him now, but could barely believe it. That was UMINO? Umino Iruka, the stuffy teacher’s aide who had just moved in next door like a month ago? The nerd whose idea of a good time was binge-watching a season of the Great British Bakeoff? Kakashi had given him a barely passing C+, having to dock points for the arsenal of pens in his shirt pocket and that one time he saw him wearing socks with sandals.

Damn. He’d totally misjudged him. This man was a BABE. The white towel only heightened his natural tan, accentuating the deep V of his hip-bones while the shadows played across his toned stomach. He looked…

He looked cold.

Umino stood stiffly upright, head high and without shame. In fact, he glared about, arms crossed, seemingly challenging anyone to make a comment or dare laugh. But Kakashi saw the goose-bumps on his skin, the subtle shiver of his shoulders. Summer had passed and, while winter was still a ways off, fall had begun muscling its way in. Kakashi wasn’t sure the clenched jaw was from irritation or to keep his teeth from chattering.

Kakashi gathered his courage and walked over.

“Hi,” he began, and almost stopped when Umino glared at him, eyes dark and daring. “Umino, right? Hatake Kakashi, from next door.” Umino studied him for a moment, then gave a sharp nod of acknowledgement. “Uh…want my jacket?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine,” Umino bit out with a tight smile, pushing some wet strands of hair out of his face.

Someone wolf-whistled. Probably the old man.

Umino slowly went red, the flush starting in his cheeks, then traveling down his neck to bloom halfway down his chest.

“…Yes, please,” he said quietly, gripping his towel in a white-knuckled hand. Kakashi fought back a chuckle and yanked the hoodie off over his head, inadvertently pulling up his shirt as he did so. Blinded as he was, he missed the flicker of Umino’s eyes over his exposed abdomen and prominent hipbones, the flush darkening a degree. Finally free, Kakashi gave the hoodie a shake and held it out, grinning sheepishly.

“Smells a bit like dog. Sorry.”

“S’fine,” Umino muttered, quickly taking it and pulling it on. It was a little too big for him but did the job, covering that delicious expanse of tanned skin and muscle. Kakashi stepped back and studied him for a moment, his mouth going dry.

Shit. It didn’t help at all. If anything, it made it worse.

Umino was now wearing his hoodie, which draped over his body but only made it to mid-thigh. The result was even more alluring and provocative than him standing there in a towel. Kakashi cleared his throat and snapped his eyes away, praying for a fire-truck to come peeling around the corner and hose him down so he could cool the fuck off.

“…You have a dog?”

“Huh?” Kakashi’s eyes snapped away from Iruka’s meaty thighs as he realized the owner of said thighs had just asked a question. “Oh! Yes. Dog. Or, rather, dog-zuh. Plural.”

“Plural?” Iruka frowned in confusion. “How many are we talking-”

“Eight.”

“EIGHT?!”

“Yup.”

“You have eight dogs.”

“Yup.”

“How did you even sneak that by the super?”

“Oh, she thinks I only have four. I have a friend who keeps a couple at his place. I just rotate them out.”

Umino laughed. It was a nice sound, even when he snorted a little at the end.

“So, what do you do?” Umino asked. “Other than harbor illegal animals, that is.”

“I work at the gym down the street,” Kakashi said, jerking his head. “I’m a fitness trainer.”

“Well, that would explain your abs...sssolutely horrible fashion sense. What are those track pants from, the 80’s?” Umino cleared his throat suddenly and jammed his hands into the hoodie’s pockets, frowned, then pulled out a crumpled wad of receipts for fast-food takeout. He stared accusingly at Kakashi for a long, quiet moment.

“…I’m allowed a cheat day,” Kakashi said.

“These are all from the same HOUR-”

“Gai bet me I couldn’t eat it all. I had to defend my honor.”

“Did you throw it all up afterward?”

“…I can neither confirm nor deny that. I can, however, confirm that I won the bet.” Kakashi winked cheekily, and Umino rolled his eyes.

“Do you…enjoy your job?” he asked, stuffing the receipts back into the pockets.

“It’s not bad. I mean, it could be worse, I could teach brats all day.” Kakashi shrugged. “What do you do?”

“I teach brats all day.”

…Dammit.

Umino’s grin was mischievous, though, and there was no hostility in his tone, so there must have been no offense taken.

“How’s that go?” Kakashi asked, genuinely curious.

“About as horrible as you’d think. I have them just when puberty rears its ugly head and turns them into angst-ridden monsters. My classroom in a cesspool of hormones and crying.”

Kakashi laughed aloud. Umino wasn’t anything like he’d thought. Both inside and out. It was incredibly refreshing, not to mention incredibly attractive.

Which is why he was quite disappointed when the first fire-trucks started to pull into the parking lot. He’d rather the whole apartment complex burn down if it meant he could stand out here, chatting with the hot teacher all night.

The fire, just a microwavable popcorn-bag gone wrong, was put out in minutes, the complex deemed safe by the groggy super, a busty older woman who was either hung over or still drunk at this unholy hour. Tenants began milling back inside, clogging the entrance in their desire to return to bed. Kakashi lingered in the back of the crowd with Umino, reluctant to part ways.

“Well, I suppose I should thank you for your hospitality,” Umino said lightly, reaching up to grasp the hoodie’s zipper. “You can have this back n-”

“Keep it,” Kakashi said quickly. Perhaps too quickly, going by the surprise on Umino’s face. “I mean…just for now. Till you. You know. Get inside and get dressed. You don’t wanna catch a cold.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling his ears get hot.

“Oh…alright.” Umino's hand lowered and he gave him a shy smile, plucking at the loose red threads hanging from the sleeves, winding one around his pinky absently. “Thank you.” The quiet words warmed Kakashi, a delicate shiver traveling up his spine. Kakashi mumbled a response, then doubled over as the hyperactive blonde kid suddenly bowled right into him.

“Watch it, old man!” the brat shouted, dodging away.

“I’m not even thirty!” Kakashi barked after him, offended. “Friggin’ kid. Can you believe-” He turned to Umino and blinked.

He was gone.

---

A knock on the door woke Kakashi right as he was taking another big, crunchy bite of taco. He bolted upright, cracked the back of his head on the coffee table, swore horrifically at himself for not getting in the damn bed this time, and stumbled to his feet. Making a mental reminder to just go and eat some fucking tacos already, he lurched towards the door, tripping over the rug and falling against it with a loud thud. He fought with the handle for a moment before finally yanking it open, squinting at the light stabbing into his eyes from the hallway.

Umino stood there, not hot as hell towel-Umino, but pressed khakis and crisp button-up, array of pens and hair in a severe ponytail Umino, fully dressed and ready for the day. Kakashi, rather than feeling a twinge of disappointment, was surprised to find the man just as alluring covered from head-to-toe as he was three-fourths-naked.

“Good morning,” Umino said, horribly chipper considering the abominable hour.

“Mornin’. What’re you doing here so early?” Kakashi mumbled, rubbing his face. Umino stared at him.

“It’s 9 a.m.”

“Holy shit. Really?” Kakashi squinted down at his watch. “I thought 9 a.m. was a myth.” Umino’s mouth fell open. “You still haven’t answered my question, though.”

“Oh. Right. Um. Your hoodie. I have it,” Umino said quickly, tripping over the words. He was flustered and twitchy with nerves. If Kakashi were a predator, this was when he’d pounce. “I, um, washed it. For you. Here.” He thrust the jacket out, perfectly folded and smelling of lavender. Kakashi was impressed.

“What, did you wash it twice?” he asked, taking it in his hands and marveling at how soft it felt. The rich red color was much more vibrant, almost seeming to glow.

“Three times,” Umino replied flatly. “Then Febreeze.”

“Umino-”

“Iruka.”

Kakashi blinked, looking up to meet the other man’s gaze.

“You can call me Iruka,” he said, sincere.

“…Alright. I’m Kakashi.” Kakashi stuck out his hand, tucking the hoodie under his other arm. Iruka’s shake was firm, his hands surprisingly soft. He must moisturize or something classy like that.

“I want to thank you for helping me out last night,” Iruka went on, two spots of color appearing high on his cheeks. “I was in a rather…awkward predicament and even after I snapped at you, you still helped me despite my rudeness. I…really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Kakashi replied easily, scratching the back of his head. Oh God, his hair must be a nightmare- no, wait. It always was. Nevermind then. “Any time.”

“So, um.” Iruka shuffled his feet a little, clearing his throat. There was that predatory instinct, niggling Kakashi to jump on him and go for the jugular. “I was wondering how to thank you, and I thought I could, maybe…make you dinner?” he finished weakly, glancing up at Kakashi from beneath thick lashes, then looking away again, suddenly shy. “I’m pretty good in the kitchen, so, if there’s anything you’d like…”

“Tacos,” Kakashi said instantly.

“…Oh.” Iruka deflated, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. “Tacos. Really? I was hoping for something a bit more…challenging. Something that would allow me to show off my culinary skills a bit. But, I mean, if that’s what you want-”

“I like miso soup,” Kakashi said after a moment. “With eggplant.” Screw tacos. He could have tacos any day of the week. He’d take a bowl of cold cereal if it meant getting to spend the evening with this full-course meal.

Iruka lit up, his smile warm and inviting.

“Miso soup it is, then. I’ll have it done by tonight and bring it over. Does that sound alright?”

“Sure.” Kakashi waved as Iruka walked off down the hall, then slipped back inside and closed the door. He brought the hoodie up to his nose and inhaled the comforting scent of lavender, thinking how differently last night would have gone had he not grabbed the hoodie. What he would have missed out on. Fate, it seemed, really did exist.

Hopefully he’d be seeing more of Iruka…in more ways than one.

-End-

Months ago, I was chosen as a pinch-hitter for the Kakairuzine (I would step in if someone had to leave), so I completed two fics just in case they were needed. Since it wasn’t, I’m posting it here. Enjoy!

#kakairu #kakairu fanfic #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #red thread of fate #I know I wrote a Victuuri fic with a similar story but I just really like the trope #sue me #fanfic #red string of fate #iruka in a towel how can it go wrong

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

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The Tattoo (Part Ten, Bit 2 - The End)

Okay, I’ve been staring at this all day. I have no idea what I’ve written anymore so I’m just going to dump this here and run ::hugs::

For @vegetacide cos it is her fault. Many thanks to @tsarinatorment @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for the read throughs, plot help and support. This was a bloody hard one to write. It started with Virgil, but Scott ate me alive. 2848 words, fic total 18,111 words.

I hope you enjoy whatever the result was.

-o-o-o-

“Son, sit down.” He waved him to a chair across from him.

A sigh. So, interview it was.

He loved his father. Would go to the ends of the solar system and beyond for him, but some things never changed. Jeff Tracy was a determined man.

At least Scott knew where he got it from.

He killed the coffee machine and made his way back to the table, this time taking up a seat that set his back to the shadow of Mateo.

Grey eyes latched onto him.

“I’m proud of you son.”

Blink.

His father reached over and took his hand.

Scott’s eyes widened. Dad had never been one for a great deal of physical contact, but that had changed since he came back. Scott stared at the scarred fingers holding his.

“Son, I…” His father swallowed. “I need to know your brother is okay.”

Scott frowned. “Virgil is okay, Dad. I promise.” It was what he had been saying all along.

A drawn out sigh. “I need to know if being part of International Rescue is in Virgil’s best interest.”

Eyes widening, Scott pulled back, his hand slipping from his father’s as his back straightened. “Dad, no.”

A held-up hand. “Hear me out.”

“Dad, this happened a long time ago. International Rescue is our lives, Virgil’s life. You can’t take it away from him.” A pause. “I won’t let you.”

Those old grey eyes latched on to him and his father’s lips thinned. “Is he on medication?”

“Dad, you need to speak to V-“

“Is he on medication?”

“Yes. It is handled and monitored. Virgil is fine, Dad!”

His father made a sorrowful sound that cut Scott to the quick, before burying his face in his hands. “I wish…” It was muffled, but Scott heard it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. If I had known…” But his voice drifted off and Scott was left staring at his father, his heart sinking more by the minute.

“We made it, Dad. We’re okay.”

His father’s head shot up. “How can you say that? Virgil is suffering from a mental illness exacerbated by his job. Yet you tell me he should keep doing that job despite what it is costing him.”

Voice quiet but firm. “It is his decision, Dad.”

“And what happens if it becomes too much? What if-“

“Dad! It is under control. Virgil is an adult. He knows what he is doing and yes, if something does go wrong, he has all of us. We back each other up. None of us are perfect. We work as a team.”

Grey eyes snapped at him. “What else don’t I know?”

Scott held back a snarl. “What else do you want to know? If you think I’m going to give you the lowdown on all my brother’s personal information, dream on, Dad.”

Those eyes didn’t falter. “Then what about you?”

“What about me? Have I had moments? Of course, I have. You know this job, Dad. It can be hell. And yes, there is a whisky stash in your desk. There always has been.” He returned that piercing glare with one of his own.

“I never claimed to be perfect, son.”

“And neither did we. Virgil’s mental health is his business. He prefers to keep it to himself. I’m aware of it. It is being managed. End of discussion.”

The steel in his father’s eyes did not vanish. “I only want what is best for my children.”

Scott’s lips thinned as he stood up. “We’re not children anymore.”

“I know that, son, but I’m still your parent.”

The tension in Scott’s shoulders only tightened. “Dad-“

“You know, I always remember Scotty being a bit of a clone of you, Dad, but up until now, I’d never really seen how much.”

A blink as Gordon slipped out of the darkness beside the stairs. He had his swimwear on and a towel thrown over his shoulder. His posture was casual, but Scott could see the tension in his shoulders. “Gordon-“

“Hey, Dad, welcome to the whacky world that is International Rescue, your local rescue organisation run by five brothers of questionable sanity. Here be the eldest, a strong, masculine heartbreaker who has an obsession complex that can drive the whole family out of the solar system. His back up and apparently medicated…” He glared at Scott. “…second in command, artist and sensitive type who takes on far too much and suffers for it. Coordinated by our communications guru who is so introverted he can’t go to parties without breaking a sweat. Not to mention our aquanaut who suffers from PSTD because his body was broken six ways to Sunday and yet still managed to survive. And finally, our kid brother who has yet to be traumatised enough to sport a mental illness, but give him time.” A sigh. “Honestly, Dad, what did you expect?”

“Gordon!”

“Scott, c’mon! Face it. It’s a hard job. We do it. Shit happens.”

Their father climbed to his feet. “Are you finished, son?”

Gordon glared at his father. “That depends.” His lips tightened. “Are you seriously considering pulling Virgil from IR?”

Scott flared. “That is not on the table.”

That earned him a brown-eyed glare. “Isn’t it? The fact you are questioning Virgil’s ability to do a job he has excelled at for years…” The glare returned to his father. “I just thought I’d let you know that if you do choose to do that, you can go find yourself another aquanaut. Because Virg goes? I’m going with him.”

“Virgil isn’t going anywhere!” The mere thought of losing any of his brothers… “Gordon, Dad just had some questions-“

“Yeah, questioning if the heart of this outfit was able to do his job.” Gordon rounded on his father again. “If you had seen what Virgil is capable of, you wouldn’t have any questions.”

“Gordon, for god’s sake!”

Their father held up a hand. “It’s fine, Scott. As you said, Gordon has a right to his opinion.” His voice was quiet enough to bring Gordon’s ire to a halt and the sudden gap in conversation let the sounds of the ocean in through the open doors. “But as your father, I have a right to my opinion also. I need information. Scott has been in command for those eight years, so I am asking him for a report.”

“On our brother.”

“On a staff member of International Rescue.” An indrawn breath. “And my son.”

“Then perhaps you should speak to your son.” Those brown eyes flared.

“I intend to.” Those grey eyes turned back to Scott. “However, I was hoping to put him through the least amount of stress by gathering enough information beforehand, in particular what instigated this issue.”

Scott straightened again. “I’m sorry, Dad. That is not my story to tell.”

“Even as Commander of International Rescue?”

Ever so quiet as his eyes held his father’s. “Even then.”

They were all interrupted by the whine of a not-quite-out-of-teenagerhood-despite-being-an-adult at the top of the stairs. “Oh, c’mon, John. I don’t need a warm milk.”

Smooth musical tones. “You had a nightmare, Alan. Warm milk is the best option for a quick return to sleep.”

“Really? Have you got a stash up on Five? Doesn’t that UHT milk taste vile?”

“It’s an acquired taste.”

“Blech!” His little brother caught sight of the three of them. “Wha-? What’s going on?”

Scott just felt sad as Alan and John took the last few steps into the room. But then John’s eyes had that wiser-than-you-know look about them and Scott’s shoulders knotted just that bit more.

Hiding anything from John was futile. And Alan?

John played for keeps.

As if subjected to an antibiotic for anger, Gordon’s stance changed immediately. “Woah, John, you got the squirt up before the sun? How did you manage that without the side effect of death?”

“He had a nightmare.” There was something in his brother’s eyes.

“John! Geez, it was only a bad dream. I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“One that had you screaming.”

“John!”

Scott stepped around the table. “You okay, Allie?”

“Oh, god, John. Now look what you did.”

The elder astronaut had a rather knowing smirk on his face.

Scott glared at him.

He put a hand on Alan’s shoulder anyway and squeezed gently.

His little brother growled at him. “I’m fine. It was time to get up anyway.”

“It’s before noon, Alan.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“Hey, I just have your teenage need for sleep at heart.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“That’s enough, you two.”

“He started it!”

“Alan.”

“Scccottttt…” It was pure whine and a strong sign that Gordon was probably right. Alan needed more sleep.

“You going to grab some warm milk?”

“Heck, no. That was John’s idea. I was just going to plug in some tunes, but he demanded I come down here. What are you guys doing anyway? Dad?”

Scott shot John with his eyes. This was worth a discussion later.

The smart ass just shrugged and smiled that smile of his.

“Dad?” Alan left Scott and hurried over to the table. “You okay?”

Scott spun to find their father reaching for his cane. Alan was there in a second and handed it to him. His little brother had an arm wrapped around his father and whether his help was wanted or not, he gave it.

“Are you okay, Alan?”

Alan rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Dad. Johnny is just making a big thing out of nothing.”

As usual, the ‘Johnny’ moniker riled the astronaut. “You were calling Virgil’s name.”

The room froze.

Alan shot daggers at John from under his father’s arm. “Thanks a bunch.”

John tilted his head. “Well, you were.” He held up his hands. “Just trying to help.” But his eyes flickered to Scott.

He glared back. Yeah, right.

John’s small smirk just wound Scott up further.

But he would kill his middle brother later, right now, Alan was the concern. “You want to talk about it?”

“Nooo.”

“Is this about Virgil’s tattoo?” His father’s voice was quiet and a little sad.

“I’m fine, Dad. I’m eighteen. Not a kid anymore.” It wasn’t a ‘no’.

“Age has nothing to do with dreams, son. I have nightmares all the time. Even some about you.”

Alan shrunk back just a little. “Me?”

Their father nodded and Scott’s heart finished its plummet somewhere amongst the flagstones.

“About all of you. Sometimes you’re calling out to me and I can’t answer. Sometimes you’re hurting and I can’t help. Sometimes all of you are just gone.” He looked up at Scott. “In more ways than one. That I’ve lost you. That my one misstep cost us everything. Even now I find it hard to believe that all of you are here safe and sound.” His voice hitched on that last word and Scott knew the truth. Knew that they weren’t as sound as they could be.

“We’re here, Dad. All of us.” Alan was looking up at his father in that same way that eleven-year-old had looked up at Scott all those years ago. Eighteen years or not, his little brother still had faith.

“I know.” He tilted his head and caught Alan up in his arms, burying his face in his youngest’s hair. “It doesn’t stop the dreams, though, kiddo. I’m still scared.”

Scott swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” It was muffled against their father’s shirt.

“Not your fault. I just wanted you to realise that we all have bad dreams from time to time.”

“Heh, I know. Gordon walks and talks in his sleep.”

“Hey! I’m over that!”

Alan poked his head up. “Newsflash, bro. Virg had to lead you back to bed three nights ago. Found you by the pool at two am talking to your ‘coach’.”

“Aw, shit.”

“Language, son.”

Gordon ignored his father. “Why didn’t Virgil tell me?”

Scott was more concerned as to why Virgil hadn’t told him.

“Dunno. You’ll have to ask him.”

Gordon muttered to himself about locks and tying himself to the bed.

Dad looked at Scott. “How long has this been a problem?”

Yet another sigh. “Long term, Dad. Left over from the Olympics. Flares when he’s worried. Hasn’t happened for a while. We have strategies.”

“Are there any other issues I don’t know about?” It was asked of the room at large, but Scott knew it was aimed at him. He pressed his lips together.

“Plenty, but they are all managed and safe.” The familiar baritone echoed down the stairwell and Virgil, trailing Grandma, was the last brother to join them.

His dark eyes ranged over the family gathering, obviously making an assessment and drawing conclusions. “Did I miss a meeting?”

His brother’s arm was strapped up but he was otherwise shirtless. It was obviously a statement because Virgil never went shirtless…ever.

He looked tired and worn.

“Virg, what are you doing up?”

It was Grandma who answered. “He needed his medication and I thought he could do with something in his belly before he goes back to bed.” She stepped past her grandson and headed towards the kitchen.

A quick glance at Gordon and the aquanaut was moving. “Hey, Grandma, let me help you with that…” He followed her into the kitchen proper obviously vetoing any villa-burning-down attempts in the making.

Virgil took the last few steps onto the flagstones and eyeing all of them, made his way towards Scott, suspicion on his face. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Some.”

“Obviously not enough.”

He turned to their father. “Dad, you’re up a little early, too. Anything I can help you with?”

It was a blatant barb. It was obvious Virgil thought he was the topic of discussion and Scott didn’t blame him.

“Just finding my feet again, son.”

Virgil nodded once before turning to Alan who was still holding onto their Dad. “You okay, Allie?”

“He had a bad dream, Virg.” It was shouted from the kitchen.

“Gordon, I’m gonna kick your ass!”

“You and what army, squirt?”

“Gordon!” It was choral – Scott, Virgil, John, Dad and Grandma.

“That army, idiot!”

“Alan!” Same chorus, younger name.

“He started it.”

“He always starts it and you always fall for it.” Scott glared at his little brother. He really was too tired for this. “It’s early. Get yourself some food or drink and back to bed. I’m going for my run.” The early morning pre-dawn glow was now bright enough to see by and not kill himself. God, he needed some time alone.

The expression on his father’s face clearly showed the man wanted to talk further. “Dad, give it time, please?”

His father blinked, but didn’t say anything.

“Trust me.”

He straightened. “I trust you, Scott.”

“Thank you.”

Scott turned to Virgil. “And you, wear your uniform next time. Don’t think I didn’t notice, Thunderbird Two.” He threw a glare at his second for emphasis.

That brought his brother up short. “FAB.”

“And fix whatever caused the accident so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Uh.” Virgil appeared suddenly panicked.

“Virg? What did cause you to fall?”

His brother’s face fell and he slumped with a wince. “A bat startled me.”

“What?”

“Did I just hear that correctly?” Gordon was far too gleeful in the kitchen. “Did you get scared by a bat?!”

“Shut up, Gordon.” It was the chorus again.

The aquanaut might have said something more, but a small explosion on the stove had him yelping and hurrying to wipe milk off the walls.

“It was a bat, okay? It startled me, I stepped back and fell. Can we ignore that now, please?”

“I’ll speak to Brains about finding a bat deterrent to keep them off the ‘birds.” Scott was firm.

Virgil turned to him and there was nothing but gratitude in his eyes.

“And if I hear anyone bugging Virgil about this, they will be cleaning all six of Two’s modules with a toothbrush. Is that clear?”

There was a muttering of assent among his brothers.

Gordon had milk in his hair.

Scott turned to John. “You and I will be having words, Thunderbird Five.”

“What did I do?” The astronaut was innocence itself.

“Strong words, Thunderbird Five.” He glared even more for emphasis.

John shrugged. “FAB.”

Alan. His littlest brother was still holding their father and didn’t appear to be separating from him any time soon. “Allie, you want to talk. Any of us will listen, you know that. Dad included.”

The young astronaut looked at his feet. “I know, Scott. Thank you.”

“We all have bad times. We get through them together.” His eyes drifted up to his father. “We do this together.”

Those strong arms held Alan even tighter and his father gave him a single nod.

Scott took a step back and stared at his family, wishing briefly that Kayo was home and Penny, Parker and Brains were there as well, even if just to complete the picture.

“Grandma, I love you. Gordon, don’t burn the kitchen down.”

And with that, he turned towards the pool, ran out on the deck and into the beginnings of the day.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #jeff tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #alan tracy #grandma tracy

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alpineglowx · 3 years

Text

I'll Do The Same {Din Djarin x OC} Chapter Five: Nightmares

pairing: din djarin x female oc

warnings: none

* * * *

“I respect your boundaries, your rights as a bounty hunter. But I need you to know that I’m in this for the long haul, whatever it takes. You can kick me off right now but I want to let you know that I’m not leaving without having said my peace. I love that kid, and I care about you too. I know we have a lot to go through, but I’m willing to do this. I don’t know what it all entails, bringing the kid to his own people, having him choose his own path, but I at least want to try. Because I didn’t give enough of a fight last time something like this happened, and I’m not going to do it again.”

The Mandalorian eyed her for the longest time, Grogu’s dark eyes staring back at her as well. She waited, taking a deep breath until he finally said,

“It’ll be dangerous.”

“I know,” Thell admitted.

“I’m a Mandalorian. You know I can handle this task myself.”

Thell threw her hands up defensively. “I’m... I’m not saying all of this just because I don’t think you could do it, in fact... you’re probably one of the best qualified people in the galaxy to do it.”

“Then why offer to help?”

Thell hung her head, debating her answer as she eyed the skyline of Coruscant just beyond the Razor Crest.

“I...I know it sounds kind of selfish, but I don’t have anywhere else to go. I don’t know anyone else, Mando. And even though the circumstances have been... strange, to say the least, I've enjoyed my time. And I'm not totally useless... I did save his life once or twice, if I remember correctly.”

Thell risked a glance at him, tentatively, until she looked at the kid again.

“I could still help with whatever you need, and I promise I won't get in your way. I mean, you’ve probably needed help before, right?... I'll stay out of your business. And when this is all over, I'll find my own way. I promise.”

A long pause. “It won’t be easy, Thell.”

She set her shoulders. “I know the risks. But I’m alone right now. My parents, my home, everything I’ve ever known is gone. I don’t have somewhere to call my own. So what do I have to lose?”

“You know you could risk getting a bounty placed on your head, too?”

Thell nodded. “I’m aware. But... he’s more important to me than any of that.”

She let her gaze linger on Grogu, held tightly in the Mandalorian’s arms. Reaching one arm out, she delicately let her hand rest on his head, rubbing his ear with her thumb. He murmured happily, wrapping one small hand around her thumb.

“Okay.”

Thell’s eyes drifted back to the Mandalorian’s helmet, to the V slit, and she could feel her heart beat a little faster. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“I promise I won’t bother you incessantly, or ask a million questions. I know you don’t like that.”

“You know how to shoot?”

“Uh,” Thell stuttered. “Not particularly.”

“You’ll have to learn if you want to stay.” As the Mandalorian spoke, Thell could feel her heart rise with joy. “And look after the kid. I’ll show you how to pilot the Razor Crest too just in case of any emergencies.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not easy work. This life... It’s not easy.”

Thell smiled, just a small, crooked smirk in his direction. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Because when he clapped her playfully on the shoulder, and the baby cooed in joy, Thell could only feel more at home than she had ever been.

They started slow, gathering some remaining supplies on Coruscant and flying off into hyperspace for another time. The Mandalorian was still quiet, no more talkative than he had been when she was only supposed to stay with them for a month. That had passed now, and while he had opened up to her some, he was still quiet.

She wondered how long this journey would take them. Mando seemed desperately attached to the kid, as much as he would probably deny it if she really asked, so she knew this trip wouldn't be an easy one. It hasn't been easy so far. Thell had nearly died trying to get Grogu back to safety that one night in the woods.

But for once, as she lay down to sleep, the steel surroundings of the Razor Crest were warm. She could memorize every crate, indent in the steel, and labeled supply box until she fell asleep. She had no idea how long she would be with the two of them, but for now, she didn’t have to worry about it. While it had taken some persuading and practically begging on her end, Mando had let her stay with them. And while he wasn’t the easiest person to be her true self in front of, she was figuring that out too. Who was she when she was no longer a servant, but a person all her own?

The first night with her strange new family, Thell woke with a start. Sweat streaked down her face and neck and she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. The cargo hold was silent around her except for the constant humming of the Razor Crest. They had stopped in the atmosphere of an uninhabited planet, safe for the moment to sleep for the night.

The hammock bed that Mando had swung up for her rocked as she rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her vision. She could hear the baby snoring softly in the sleeping chamber across from her, and debated throwing her blanket back over her shoulders to fall asleep again. But something like fear was gnawing at her, so Thell swung her legs over the side, carefully maneuvering to slide back down to the floor and grab her cloak. The door to the sleeping chamber was cracked, and she peeked inside out of pure curiosity; but the bed was empty, and she couldn’t see the Mandalorian in the cargo hold. She made her way up quietly to the cockpit to find the Mandalorian lounging in the pilot’s seat.

At her entry, he made no remark, so Thell quietly sat herself down in the adjacent seat, leaning her head back to rest comfortably. She could see Mando from the corner of her eye, his gaze fixed on the stars outside. The silence was comfortable, so Thell relaxed against the seat, letting her eyes follow the trail of stars outside.

“Are you okay?”

At his sudden question, Thell nearly jumped.

“Uh, yeah...,” Thell muttered. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t respond for a long moment, and when he did, his voice was low.

“You seem shaken.”

Thell squirmed in her seat. “I... think I had a nightmare. When I used to have them back home, I would go to a place where I could see the stars. It calmed me down...” she explained, then whispered under her breath, still does.”

Her eyes wandered, pinpointing constellations and planets. A month had gone by and she still wasn’t used to sitting in the vastness of space, with the stars and planets just at her fingertips.

“That’s Mon Cala... I think,” she said, pointing to a bluish dot in the distance. “And D’Qar’s over there. Naboo should be right there next to it.”

She could hear the Mandalorian huff through his helmet. “You know you’re stuff.”

Thell couldn’t help but smile, mildly proud of herself. “My mom used to teach me the star systems every night when I was kid... Not sure why, but it helped distract me from everything else. Guess it can come in handy now.”

Thell’s words drifted off, until she set her eyes on Mando again, genuinely curious. The glow from space littered onto his helmet, showering the Beskar in starlight.

“Don’t take this the wrong way... but how long has it been since you took it off?”

“Last night,” he responded quickly, almost comically.

“I...,” Thell started. “I mean... Since someone saw your face.”

The Mandalorian crossed his arms over his chest, relaxing against the seat. Thell wondered if she had stepped over a boundary of his until he spoke again.

“I was young. No one has seen my face since I swore the Creed.”

“And the Creed... it’s like your code? Your way of life?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Thell murmured, and sank back against her seat. Whatever dreams or wishes she had of ever seeing his face might as well be crushed.

“What color is your hair?” He slowly turned her direction, until Thell had to throw her hands up. “What? You get to see my face all the time.”

“It’s brown.”

. . . .

“Hold it here, on the grip. And make sure that the safety is off before you shoot.”

“The safety?”

“Right here. It doesn’t let you fire if it’s on.”

Thell’s eyes widened. “Oh. Okay.”

The Mandalorian passed the small black blaster to her, to which she hesitantly wrapped her fingers around the grip.

“Hold it even with your shoulder, one hand to stabilize yourself.”

Thell did as he had instructed, carefully pointing the blaster to a target he had set up several yards away. They had landed on a small desert planet just outside a small neighboring village. The air was more dry and warm here than Thell had ever experienced, and she was constantly wiping sweat away from her eyes.

She shook droplets from her forehead against before readjusting her arm, pointing the blaster towards the target. The last time she had held a blaster was the night she had first met him, the one the guard had forced into her hands.

He had killed that guard, and it suddenly rocked her.

Slowly, she set her arms down, letting them rest at her sides. The Mandalorian was quiet, but Thell could sense he was waiting for her to shoot. After a moment, he asked,

“What’s wrong?”

Thell couldn’t make eye contact with him; she could only see the blaster being shoved into her hands, all over again.

“I... I can’t do this right now,” she said, starting to stumble back. “I need a break.”

As she turned to leave, she felt the Mandalorian’s iron grip on her wrist, keeping her close.

“Thell,” he said, gazing down at her. “What’s going on?”

Instead of answering, she gently placed the blaster in his empty hand and pulled out of his grip, turning her back to him.

Taking a deep breath, she answered, “The last time I held a blaster was the night you took Darand. It was given to me from a guard you killed.”

When all the Mandalorian did was stay quiet, Thell said, in a rather low tone, “There was blood on the blaster. His blaster. It was the one I was defending myself with... but why? Why am I using one now if just to do the same thing?”

“Because you chose this.”

“But I... I can’t kill someone. Having that weapon in my hands... it felt like too much power. It was too much power.”

“Sometimes we can’t make those calls.”

Thell turned, slowly, peered at him from the corner of her eye. “What do you mean?”

“... Sometimes the moment comes too quick, and we’re forced to make a decision: we choose to live, or we die. You would protect the kid, wouldn’t you? Protect yourself?”

“Yes... but I... At what cost?”

“You can’t ask yourself those questions when you're forced in the moment. But you can decide right now whether or not the kid is that important to you.”

Thell could feel tears in her eyes; she knew she had to make the decision, but somehow, it was pressing against her harder than she had imagined. This was all part of becoming her new self, her identity as a new person. She knew she didn’t want to be a killer, she never would be.

But if it meant protecting herself, the kid, and even Mando himself, she would do it.

But she could only nod, blinking away tears.

“Then you know why I’m giving you this.” When he passed her the blaster again, Thell took it with trembling hands.Without Mando having to instruct her, she raised the blaster at shoulder level again, switching off the safety with ease. The weapon still shook, so Thell closed her eyes, letting the fear wash away momentarily as she realized that she was in control.

With her eyes back open, and every intent and all attention focused on the target, she fired, shooting straight through the center of the circle and leaving a gaping, blazing hole.

“I’m not saying it’s easy, but sometimes it’s all you have.”

Mando trained her during the first week, until Thell felt comfortable enough shooting the targets. The nightmares remained, now wrought with blurry images of standing over that guard, and Thell still found herself wandering into the cockpit. The Mandalorian had never been much of a conversationalist, but it eased her to know that he didn’t mind her company. He didn’t hide away once she entered or showed disinterest in her conversation topics. In fact, she was getting to know him too. He was, slowly but surely, becoming her friend. At night, amidst starlight, she felt more comfortable not being expected to hold a blaster and fire at targets. Here, she felt more herself.

“Do you ever sleep?” She asked him one night.

“Yes.”

“... just seems like you’re in here most nights.”

“You are, too.... we train all day. Aren’t you tired?”

Part of her was.

“I... a bit. But I enjoy this.”

“Hm,” was all the Mandalorian said.

Getting a reading of his emotions had been the hardest part for Thell. Without seeing his face, or hearing much of a tone change in his modulated voice, it was hard for her to pinpoint exactly how he was feeling. He didn’t seem annoyed at her most days, but sometimes doubt would creep into her mind. Was he going to change his mind in letting her stay if she asked too many questions? What were the right questions to ask? Who was this guy, anyway?

But he seemed to get there first.

“Still having the nightmares?”

Thell’s brows raised. “Um... Yeah. I am.”

“What do you see?”

She leaned against the seat, trying to figure out what he was getting at. “That guard you killed... The one that gave me the blaster.”

“You see him every time you hold it.” When she nodded, the Mandalorian continued. “That’s the fear holding you back, Thell. You’ll have to learn to overcome it.”

“How?”

“You have to fight your own demons... figuring out who you want to be.”

Finally, was all Thell could think. All she had ever wanted to be, since she was a kid, was her own person, not a husk of someone who had come before her or the expectations of another.

But having someone else put it into words was more than frightening, and all she could think of were the millions of questions that were racing through her head. How does she find out who she’s meant to be, where she’s meant to be? Who is she without her parents or original home?

But she could deal with those questions later, or she knew they would consume her would she let them sit. Instead, she perked up, directing her attention back at the Mandalorian.

“Mando?”

“Yes?” His voice was nearly soft, his attention focused on the stars outside the cockpit window.

But Thell’s eyes were on the strange signet on his right shoulder pauldron, an animal of some sort with a large horn. It was a symbol for something, and Thell knew it.

“The symbol on your shoulder,” she started, pointing to her own shoulder. “What is it?”

“It’s the sign of the Mudhorn.”

Thell’s brows creased. “And... what’s it for?”

“It’s my Clan.”

“Clan Mudhorn, then?” At her question, Mando nodded. “I haven’t heard of that clan before...”

“It’s because it’s just the kid and me... I had to fight a Mudhorn on Tatooine to get back pieces of the Razor Crest that Jawas had stolen from me.” The way he spoke of the past, how recent Thell wasn’t sure, made him warmer in her mind. This strange crew of two, a rugged Mandalorian and his adopted green baby, were their own clan.

Thell couldn’t help but feel a slight fondness rise in her soul for them. Yes, she loved them, the kid especially, before he had agreed to take her on to help his cause, but now something was different. Because the child wasn’t just this small, helpless creature, and the Mandalorian was not the same man that had walked in on her that night with Grogu in her arms, a blaster pointed directly at her face. He had been ready to kill her, would have, if she hadn’t let Grogu go.

She still didn’t know them very well, but she knew he wouldn’t kill her now. No, maybe not ever. Because she was risking tooth and limb, every opportunity she had at some normalcy in her life, to return this child to where he belonged. And she would gladly do it if it meant having Mando accompany her, protect her. He didn’t see her like everyone else did, like the daughter of a servant, like a lower class citizen. And it made something deep swell within her heart, a feeling she had never allowed herself to feel before.

She just wondered if he felt any ounce of the same thing she did.

“Does the name Sai’Lya have any significance?”

His question tore her out of her trance, and Thell blinked to look at him clearly.

“I don’t think so. Why... Do you know something?”

He shook his head lightly, his attention turning back towards the stars. “I don’t.”

“Hm,” Thell muttered, slouching against her seat and letting her fingers toy with the leather cord around her neck, the one holding the necklace to her body.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, nearly jumping up from the seat and wondering if she had scared Mando.

“I do have one thing of my dad’s... I was gonna show you, the night those people shot at us.”

His helmet slowly turned her way as Thell fished the necklace out from inside her tunic, gently turning it over and in Mando’s direction. It was small, made of some smooth metal, depicting some leonid creature: a cat with large fangs.

“I’m not sure what it is,” Thell explained with a shrug as she turned to lean towards him. “But it’s the only thing I’ve ever had of my father’s.”

Suddenly, Mando went rigid as his eyeline found the necklace, and Thell felt her blood go cold. He leaned forward, ever so slowly.

“Mando, is something wrong?” She asked, her voice shaking. “What’s going-"

His hand suddenly shot forward, the gloved fingers gently holding the necklace out. He was close now, so close Thell could clearly hear him breathing under the helmet.

“This,” he started, and Thell swore she could hear his voice break under the mask.

“This is Mandalorian.”

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out-of-jams · 5 years

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Airplane Mode | Track 02: Daydream | jhs

Summary: In a world where a bruise marks the first touch of your soulmate, time is the only thing that matters. The marks take hours to appear, sometimes even days if you're really unlucky. Once First Touch is initiated, both parties only have a few weeks to find the other. From then on, the body begins to reject any form of sustenance other than the touch of the other. If one fails to find their soulmate in time, they starve to death. So what happens when your soulmate is a world famous idol?And you're just one fan in a sea of many who can't even speak the same language?

Pairing: Hoseok x Fem Character

Word Count: 3.2k

Genre: Fluff. Angst. Idol!au. Smut. Soulmate!au. Explicit language.

Warnings: This chapter contains swearing.

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The soft click of a laptop closing reminded Eunjae of the top of a casket being nailed shut. Stretching her short legs out from their criss-crossed position, she slid the laptop from her lap to the mattress of the unmade bed.

She’d just finished sending out emails to her college professors to explain that she would not be in class for a few days. Well, at least she hoped it would only be a few days. Eunjae certainly couldn’t go out in public with three-fourths of her face bruised to hell and back. Seeing as how the bruises of First Touch remained on the skin until the touch of a soulmate healed the marks, Eunjae wasn’t exactly sure when she’d be able to show her face. Literally.

She didn’t know a whole lot about the biological side of how soulmates worked, but somehow the touch of the other not only provided sustenance, but it had healing properties too. Everyone, at least from what Eunjae had experienced with the public school system growing up, were taught the very basics of soulmate science.

Those who found their soulmate were automatically graced with a longer lifespan. The longest soulmate pair ever recorded had made it to the ripe old age of 210 years old. Since the touch of a soulmate provided the exact vitamins and nutrients that the body required to stay healthy, it also doubled to prevent sickness and disease. It was rumored to even be able to take away the feeling of pain as well.

That’s a perk, at least. Eunjae thought as she examined the backs of her hands. Miles’ apartment was quiet. He’d left not too long after talking her down from the panic attack she’d had in his bathroom, to run to the bodega two blocks down to pick up breakfast.

“You gotta eat good while you can.” He’d said as he tied up the laces of his shoes. “And it doesn’t get any better than a bacon, egg and cheese on an everything bagel. ”

He hadn’t been gone long, but Eunjae already felt empty without his warmth. Back sliding down the wooden headboard, she buried herself into his fluffy comforter, letting the calming scent of him wash over her. The silk sheets that she’d convinced him to splurge half a paycheck on tickled the skin exposed at the bottom of her rolled up sweatpants.

Eunjae and Miles had been pretty much inseparable ever since they’d met in second grade. She could remember that day almost perfectly. Eunjae had been surprisingly shy as a child, but Miles had shoved himself into the chair next to hers and declared them as friends. From that day on, they longest they’d ever spent away from each other had been when his family had forced him on a vacation to Florida for a whole summer.

So much for inseparable, huh? Eunjae clenched her jaw around the sob threatening to escape her throat. Now we’ll be a literal world’s apart.

The fear of being abandoned by her best friend turned the tears on her tongue to ashes.

Jung Hoseok’s attention wavered from Sejin’s disappearing back, to the doorway as he swiveled back and forth in his leather chair. Fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the hardwood surface of the table in front of him, he pursed his heart-shaped lips. The rest of his members sat scattered around the long table of their hotel’s conference room.

Perched in his own chair next to him, Namjoon scrolled through the phone clutched in one of his hands. His rectangular glasses reflected the dim light of the screen as his eyes examined whatever webcomic it was that he was reading. Yoongi lounged back in his seat across from Hoseok, the green straw of an iced Americano from the Starbucks downstairs pressed between his lips. His catlike eyes were closed in exhaustion, long eyelashes brushing his pale cheeks. Hoseok wasn’t sure if the strong grip that Yoongi had on the plastic cup was to keep himself awake or to prevent a bratty Jungkook from stealing it.

Squishing himself between the elder rapper and Taehyung, Jungkook rested his chin on the singer’s arm to peer over his shoulder. Taehyung’s long fingers tapped vigorously across the screen of his phone, the sounds of some game they were taking turns playing echoing through the room. Seokjin and Jimin had left with their other manager, Hobeom, some time ago to find somewhere to scavenge breakfast from. Food, however, was the last thing on Jung Hoseok’s mind.

Hands spreading out on the surface of the table, palm up, Hoseok’s thoughts were racing. He’d woken up this morning to find his hands completely covered in bruises. The center of his palms were an ugly, dark fuschia and spread out into a greenish-yellow color around the heels of his hands and the tips of his fingers.

Hoseok had thought nothing of it at first, simply chalking it up to the results of a rough dance practice. It wasn’t totally uncommon for the man to come back from rehearsal with a few bruises after some vigorous floorwork. It took him a minute after waking up, however, to remember where exactly he was. Sometimes they traveled so much in such a short period of time that he couldn’t keep up with their schedule. It wasn’t until he’d glanced out the window of his hotel room and saw the spire of the Empire State building that he remembered where he was.

It was here that Hoseok realized that it’d been a few days since the last dance practice.

He’d been confused after that. Maybe he’d fallen at some point and just couldn’t remember? His body was so wracked with exhaustion that it wouldn’t have even surprised him. They were all worn-out from preparing for their upcoming comeback, and were still in the midst of promotion. So something as simple as accidentally bruising himself would be just a tiny blimp on his radar.

Taehyung was still asleep in his own bed, his soft snores cutting out as Hoseok shut the bathroom door. He’d pushed the thought from his mind as he stepped under the warm spray of the shower. The tired, aching muscles of his body relaxed under the steam and he took his time to enjoy a rare moment alone.

Hoseok loved what he did: making music, traveling, performing in front of an audience--his fans. If someone hit a redo button on his life, he knew that he wouldn’t change anything about it. With the adrenaline rush of being on stage and having a platform to spread love and positivity; Hoseok was living the dream.

However, once he stepped out of the foggy bathroom dressed only in a pair of whitewashed jeans, he got brought down into a harsh reality.

“Hyung, what are those bruises from?” Taehyung’s deep voice pulled Hoseok’s attention away from his grumbling stomach. Running a soft towel through his drenched hair, Hoseok squinted at Taehyung through waterlogged lashes.

“What?” He attributed his slow brain to the fact that he was still half asleep and therefore not as energetic as usual.

Taehyung shuffled away from his open duffle bag on the room’s table and over to Hoseok, blond hair a birds nest atop his head. Gesturing to the rapper’s hands holding the towel, he answered, “on your hands.”

Hoseok blinked in confusion and draped the damp towel around his shoulders. He held his hands in front of his face, exhausted brain taking a moment to process what was going on.

“Oh.” He shrugged before dropping to sit on the edge of his bed. Crossing one leg over the other, he waved his hands around. “I think I fell or something. I woke up with them like this.”

“Those look a lot like something I’ve seen before.” Taehyung fished one of the rapper’s hands out of the air to examine it more closely. He spoke like what he’d just said was not at all cryptic.

Letting out a laugh, Hoseok wiggled his trapped fingers playfully. He was used to Taehyung’s sometimes odd way of speaking, so he wasn’t at all phased. “With the rate that Namjoonie hurts himself, I’m not surprised. He’s always covered in bruises.”

“No, no.” Taehyung pressed, delicately poking a finger to the palm of Hoseok’s hand. “Online.”

“You look up bruises online often?” Hoseok asked in amusement.

Ignoring the rapper’s words, the corners of V’s lips turned up as he nodded to himself at whatever thought was going through his head. Brow raising in curiosity, Hoseok watched as his donsaeng’s eyes lit up.

“Hyung,” a sudden boxy smile spread across his face, voice raising slightly in pitch with excitement. “I’ve seen pictures of bruises like this online before. They’re not normal. It’s from First Touch.”

Hoseok’s stomach dropped in shock at the words, eyes widening and lips parting. He could vaguely remember reading a couple of news articles with that same phrase. Whatever leftover jetlag that he’d been feeling evaporated into the steamy air billowing out from the bathroom. One of the dimples in his cheek popped into existence as a smile slowly stretched across his face.

“Are you saying that--”

“I think you met your soulmate, hyung!”

The sound of a door opening snapped Hoseok out of his thoughts, bringing the present back into focus. Looking up from the spot on the table that he’d apparently been staring at while he zoned out, the rapper watched as Jimin strode through the open doorway. The handles of two large paper bags were held between his ringed fingers and Hoseok’s stomach rumbled when the smell of pancakes filled the air.

“Finally!” Jungkook groaned, throwing his head back against his leather chair in relief. “It took you long enough.”

“Yah,” Seokjin berated humorously as he entered the room behind Jimin. He waved around one of the drink trays held in his hands. “Get it yourself next time if you want quicker service.”

Yoongi snorted, deeming the moment important enough to open his eyes. He stirred the combination of melting ice cubes and bitter espresso in his plastic cup as he eyed the food being placed on the table hungrily. “Maybe if we starve him, he’ll finally contribute to buying.”

“Good idea.” Seokjin hummed as he seated himself in the open chair next to Hoseok. He watched as Jungkook ignored them to dig into the steaming bags of food. “It’s been how long since he’s actually paid for something?”

The elder didn’t wait for a response before turning in his chair to examine Hoseok. “How you holding up?”

“I don’t know about you,” Jimin interrupted before the rapper could answer, dropping into the seat next to Yoongi. His chair rolled back on the carpet, knocking into Yoongi mid-sip. That earned him a sleepy glare, which he ignored. “But I’m kind of excited. What do you think she’s like?”

“Why do you assume it’s a girl?” Yoongi questioned, using the sleeve of his black hoodie to wipe up the tiny drops of spilled coffee from the table.

“Well assuming that he met them at the fanmeet,” Namjoon finally spoke up without pulling his attention from whatever he was reading on his phone. “The likelihood of it being a girl are greater. There were some fanboys there yesterday, but not a whole lot.”

Giving up on beating Jungkook’s highscore, Taehyung dropped his phone onto the table and finally tuned into the conversation. Chin propped in his hands, he asked a very important question. “Well hyung, how many people did you touch yesterday?”

“That makes it sound dirty.” Hoseok huffed a laugh before leaning back in his chair. He hummed in thought, brow pinched as he thought back. Fanmeets tended to all blend into one another until the faces of each fan blurred around the edges. Sigh leaving his lips, he shrugged. “I don’t know. I touched a lot of fans yesterday.”

Jungkook snorted around the giant forkful of pancakes he stuffed into his mouth. Seokjin wrinkled his nose in disgust at the syrup dripping carelessly onto the table. “Wow hyung, so dirty.”

Rolling his eyes, Hoseok playfully kicked the maknae’s shin from underneath the table. Judging by the lack or response though, it must not have been hard enough.

“Sejin still on the phone with Bang PD-nim?” Jimin asked as he stabbed a straw through his to-go cup of coke. The earrings dangling from his pierced lobes tapped against his cheeks as he leaned forward to take a sip.

Namjoon nodded his head towards the door at the far end of the room. That one lead to a smaller, more private room that the manager had disappeared into almost an hour ago. “He’s still in there.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to find them?”

All eyes turned to a serious looking Taehyung. He stared down unblinkingly at the plastic container of food in front of him, fork hanging limply between his fingers. As if feeling all eyes on him, he looked up and spoke the words that had been at the back of each of their minds. “What if we can’t?”

“We’ll find them.” Namjoon reassured as he finally locked his phone. “Besides, we have plenty of time. It takes weeks for the side effects of First Touch to even kick in.”

“What about that one case, though?” Jimin questioned, blinking as attention focused on him. “The one a few years ago where that girl almost starved to death after just three days?”

The sudden silence in the room was thick.

Letting out a chuckle that sounded half-hearted to everyone in the room, Hoeseok attempted to diffuse the tension. “We’d better find her fast then.”

“So you assume it’s a girl too, then?” Ever the perceptionist, Seokjin cracked a joke to assist. He was rewarded with a roll of Yoongi’s eyes and a smile teasing the edge of Taehyung’s lips.

The door at the far side of the room opened, and out stepped a flustered Sejin. Attention focused on the phone he was slipping into the pocket of his pants, he stopped in his tracks when he looked up to see seven pairs of eyes staring back.

“How did it go?” Namjoon questioned, the anticipation in the room skyrocketing.

Sejin ran a hand through his black hair before straightening, staring back at the members through the lenses of his rounded glasses. He let the silence linger for a beat longer than necessary before a warm smile spread across his face. That was all it took for the tense postures in the room to relax.

“Good news.” His eyes met Hoseok’s worried gaze. “We found her.”

The room exploded in cheers and each of the members stretched around to slap a grinning Hoseok in congratulations. The rapper couldn’t help the bubbling anticipation and nerves mixing a cocktail in his stomach. He was relieved that the possibility of either of them starving to death was eliminated. Not only that, but he was elated at the thought of meeting the one person in the whole world that was destined for him. However, one nervous thought kept playing on a loop in his head.

I hope she likes me.

“I knew it was a girl!” Jimin slammed his fists against the table in victory. Yoongi rolled his eyes and pretended to be annoyed when the silver haired singer stuck his tongue out at him playfully. But the gummy smile on the rapper’s face gave himself away.

“Do you know her name?” Hoseok couldn’t help but ask.

“Wait a second.” Jungkook interrupted before Sejin could answer, raising his hand in the air like he was a kid in class waiting to be called on.

“Yes, Kook-ah?” Seokjin played along, waving his plastic fork at the maknae.

“If she met hyung at a fanmeet here in America, do you think she speaks Korean?”

The room descended into silence once again, each of them shocked at the fact that they hadn’t even thought of that. Mouth parting in surprise, Hoseok felt his eyes widen.

“That could be a problem.”

“If I move, I’ll die.” Eunjae groaned, limbs starfished on the shag carpet of Miles’ living room. Empty styrofoam containers littered the coffee table, crumbs spilling out onto the floor. Miles was spread out on the couch, one leg thrown over the back in a position that looked very uncomfortable.

“I think that was the best meal I’ve ever eaten.”

��You really shouldn’t have bought so much.” Eunjae mumbled, throwing an arm over her face to try and quell the nausea. After stuffing her face with two giant bacon, egg and cheese bagels and one can of Arizona tea, she felt ready to explode.

Miles had returned shortly after leaving, only to find Eunjae breaking down under the covers of his bed. He’d ended up dragging her out of bed and gently wiping the water from her cheeks, claiming that he had the perfect cure for her tears: breakfast. Eunjae had always found a strange comfort in greasy food, so she’d latched onto the distraction readily.

Now, however, she was starting to have some regrets.

“Don’t act all high and mighty.” Miles shot back, dangling an arm off the couch to knock into her shoulder. “You ate that food like a woman on death row.”

“Well,” Eunjae gave a small, sad smile that he wasn’t able to see. “I just might be one.”

Grunting with effort, Miles rolled onto his side so that he could stare down at her seriously. “Don’t even joke like that.”

“I’m sorry.” And she was. Eunjae wasn’t the type of person to let the sad thoughts that sometimes plagued her mind to show. But at moments like those, it was difficult. “I’ll stop.”

The sound of a phone vibrating cut through the tense atmosphere threatening to drown her, and Eunjae floundered for her cellphone with a feeling of relief. Her hand skimmed the carpet a few times before finally feeling the glossy phone case under her fingers. Bringing the vibrating phone to her face, Eunjae’s eyes narrowed in confusion at the unknown number on the screen. Shrugging, she hit the reject button before dropping it back to the carpet.

“What are you doing?” Miles all but screamed in her ear. Wincing, Eunjae turned her head to glare up at him.

“Why are you yelling?”

“Why did you reject the call?”

Brows raised, she scoffed. “Who actually answers calls from unknown numbers?”

“You idiot!” The boy smacked her on the arm at her stupidity. “That could have been him! Or his management. Or something! And you just rejected the call!”

Eunjae’s eyes widened at the realization and she smacked herself on the forehead. She vaguely remembered having to fill out her contact information on the virtual ticket she entered into the fanmeet lottery. “Oh my, God. I didn’t even think about that.”

“Obviously, you--” The phone went off again, vibrations jolting her ribs from where it lay face down on the carpet. Hand snatching it up, she scanned the number calling.

“It’s the same number.” She whispered, eyes still trained on the glass screen.

“Answer it!” Miles screeched.

Rushing to obey, Eunjae took a deep breath before pressing the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

#bts #bts soulmate au #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #hoseok

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prince-toffee · 4 years

Text

Five Minutes

A sacrifice fic just to prepare for the inevitable.

(Sorry if there’s any grammar errors, I don’t care, I’m tired, ok I do care, consider this a first draft, I’ll fix it if something’s up.)

The doors locked. They did it. They won. The door‘s access panel changed it’s green light to a red. The display on the panel read ‘Warning, temperature rising to dangerous levels. Clone presence in WatchPoint Bay Q6 detected.’ “Yeah, no shit.” Modulok grumbled to himself, and partially to the panel, as he sat down on the walkway next to his brothers.

“Sooooo, what- what’s happenin’? Is it working?” Vultak asked swallowing fear down his throat as he stuttered on the ‘what’. It did work, the Princesses managed to destabilise the core of the capital warship, The Velvet Glove. The She-Ra, Princess of Power, ploughed her mystical sword into the power core, which resulted in the station’s propulsion systems going offline and set the warship on a collision course with Etheria’s most populated centre, BrightMoon.

“Yeah, it worked alright.” Modulok scratched his two heads with his two left hands, “I just... I calculate that we’ve got about five minutes before either the ship burns up ooooor the all-mighty, all-powerful relic sword explodes and tears our atoms apart and flings them across the ten dimensions... maybe both, probably both.” Modulok shrugged his shoulders with a hopeless chuckle, which didn’t really comfort the perched Vultak on the walkway railing. Then again, what would possibly lighten the mood in that moment.

Hordak and Princess Entrapta managed to angle the station in a manner that would just nearly miss the planet, burn up in the atmosphere and use the momentum of the gravity to sling shot it into a surrounding moon. The space station was mentally linked to Horde Prime, everything was operated and controlled with his consciousness. With Prime dead, it put them into a difficult circumstance. Someone had to stay behind to make sure the ship stayed on course, someone mentally compatible with the Horde systems. Hordak was the logical choice, actually he was the only choice. He was the only High General present, meaning only he comprehended and was familiar with the warship systems. Hordak thought it was funny, She-Ra did finally kill him. A destiny fulfilled.

“Five minutes to live. That’s not a lot...” Mosquitor spoke up, giving off a an exhausted sigh. All six clones present in the room fell into tense and anxious silence. Fear and sadness blocked their throats, they weren’t used to talking with their vocal cords, it was forbidden. Clones were only allowed to communicate telepathically and only communicate about their duties and objectives. ‘Small talk’ wasn’t in the Horde dictionary. Ironically the only places where clones were able to talk and showcase their individualism was on the frontlines.

“Okay, so five minutes of life left... any last words?” Modulok asked shimmying on his rear to find a comfortable position to sit on the hard, cold walkway. A grated panelled pathway suspended at the centre of a deep chamber, below a transparent force shield at the bottom. Which framed a view of heat and fire outside, melting and charring the outer metal casings of the ship.

“What’s there to talk about?” Despara quirked her brow at her brother’s question.

“Well, we’re clones, we don’t get this lucky. We’ve got five minutes to make up for all the decades of silence.” Modulok articulated.

To guide the warship most effectively Hordak had to observe the trajectory from a vantage point, that was where their paths diverged. Princess Entrapta protested, she held his hands in her own, massaged his knuckles with her thumbs. She raised herself up on her hair to face him eye to eye. She even gave him her signature smile, the one that melted his heart in a second. She had that look of possibility in her glistening crimson eyes, a spark of wonder and wanting that looked into multiple futures, hundreds of possibilities, a look that showed Hordak what he had to fight for, a world where that smile, those eyes and that laugh and that brilliant mind exist. A perfect world. He chose to save that world, even if it was without him in it. A final gift to Entrapta, for all the trouble and confusion he caused her.

He gave her a kiss on her gloved hand, befitting for royalty, he gave her the best smile he could, and for the last time, he left her. Princess Entrapta would go on to cry for many days to come, but it was for the best. The greater good.

“Alright. I’m just gonna say it, food, not a fan. Too mushy. Has to go through your entire digestive system, which I didn’t even know existed until a few cycles back, and it has to come out th-” Modulok was cut off by Hordak, who previously was completely silent.

“You didn’t have to come with me.” He didn’t even look at them as he spoke, face down, staring at a small purple crystal in his hand, which he used to fidget with to ease his nerves.

“What are you talking about? We stay together. We’re defects.” Despara states to Hordak almost offended, all of them were through a lot, she felt offended that Hordak thought they’d abandon him now.

“We fought through countless wars. We hauled-ass across the universe. And we killed our god! Together!... Well, technically the blonde Valkyrie lady killed Prime, but still it’s the thought that counts.” Vultak shrugged, attempting to lighten the mood. Hordak rubbed circles on the purple crystal, looking down on it, his face reflected in it’s cracked surface. L-U-V-D. That’s what was etched on it. A fact. A reminder of her compassion. A wake up call. And he did wake up, from a dream world he believed all his life. A life of lies. From a hazy of toxic green to a reality of flaming red.

“I am your general. I stood at our Brother’s side, you were mere soldiers, pawns. I deserve this pain, not you. You could’ve- you should have had normal lives.”

Mosquitor chuckled to himself, “Normal isn’t exactly in our dictionary.” The towering brute countered as he cradled the young hybrid in his arms, keeping Zed near his chest. As if it would make any difference when the fire broke through. “Also we’re not the kind of people the Etherians seem to want to deal with.” That was true, after the Horde Hordak knew no clone would have an easy time on that planet. Those people hated him, his face. He chose to believe that the common people of the world were as good as the Princesses that protected them. That all his fellow clone brethren could find a safe and fruitful life among the native Etherians.

“Then what do you think happens to our brothers? You think the Princesses kept their side of the bargain? You think they’re all off the ship, that they evacuated them?” Despara asked most likely imagining the worst, a possibility that there were some other poor clones still on board. That they were sacrificing lives that weren’t theirs to sacrifice.

To quiet their minds, Hordak tiredly claimed, “No. They kept the promise. They’re honest people.” Hordak added that they had to, they were just like that, it was in their nature. Hordak knew their brothers were fine. BrightMoon had no court to try them, no holding cells to hold all of them for decades to come. And hopefully if Entrapta didn’t decide to hate him, she’d help them all and embrace them in her warmth. Dryl hadn’t had citizens for a decade or two, he was sure the clones wouldn’t be much of a downgrade. They would add some life to the ghost town, so that she wouldn’t feel alone anymore.

“Yeah well, whatever they’re up to, it can’t be as bad as the predicament we’re in, heh.” Vultak flapped his winged arm around, a sharp gasp of pain escaped him as he moved his right arm around. No wonder either, it was bent backward, from the fight with Prime, literal minutes ago. It felt so victorious for just a moment, but life has a funny way of turning tables around.

“Plus, the Princesses? Totally lame, right?” Modulok rolled his eyes as he attempted to stand up to get over to V and help his brother’s arm. But Vultak raised his left hand in protest, there was no need. It was going to be over soon. Modulok sat back down in defeat, amusement draining from his two faces. What good was a medic that couldn’t fix his fellow soldiers.

It was Mosquitor’s turn to brighten the situation, “Hah, yeah I bet our brothers are all clawing their ears out by now. Hehe, remember what those colour coded pastel losers yapped about all the time? Friendship? And rainbows? What a mucha losers, eh? Hehe... heh.”

“I remember.” Hordak stated. Never again.

“Yea, losers.” Despara nodded.

“Losers.” Modulok and Vultak said at the same time.

“...Hmmmhehehahah- HA!” Modulok covered his face to hide his ugly laughter, forgetting about the other one expressing the same emotion.

“Mode, what the hell now?” Vultak asked, a smirk creeping up on him.

“Hehehehahahahhhh, ahhhhh man, w-heh-which one was the one that tried to hug Zed, heheheh and- and got burned. Oh lord. Oh Great Darkness. That face was priceless. HhhhhhhhHAHAHA!” The infectious mirth managed to wriggle out a small spasm out of Zed. His shoulders moving up and down, his nasal cavity wrinkling up in that cute way. Of course the young Zed contributed no sound of amusement as he was mute.

Despara shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know. They all look the same to me.” The room shook violently, the pipes above rattled and metal panels fell off the walls and fell down through the force field below. Hordak’s realisation dawned on him, that he would be departing the mortal realm very soon. Even though there was an inferno forming beneath him, just outside that thin force field, even though he was surrounded by his clone brethren, his mind couldn’t help but wonder off to the thought of a certain Scientist Princess. His mind run wild with quite corny and laughable poetry, everything he wished he had said to Entrapta. But didn’t.

He didn’t need her to devote her entire life to him. No. That’d be caging her. She deserved to be free, free to bend the universe to her will and bring the universe to bow before her beautiful intellect. He didn’t need her to lay her lips on him, she didn’t need to touch him. All he needed was just to see her smile, at him. Just for her to be with him, because that smile just for a moment saves him, just for a moment she makes him forget the endless pain he endured every day of his life. And every smile felt like an eternity of bliss. And so with just a look that woman could transport him into a perfect world, where he could live an eternity-long life.

But he didn’t say any of that to her. Hordak knew Entrapta wasn’t interested in long speeches, she had a short attention span, she was a woman of actions not words. That’s why before all this all Hordak gave Catra was a short note to give to Entrapta. He had her promise that she’d apologise to Entrapta, for all that she had done. Unfortunately, he made her apologise for the two of them. The note read ‘I’m sorry, and thank you. - Your ever loyal knight, Hordikins. Farewell My Queen.’ He could have gone on how there were no words in any dialect across the known universe that could express how she made him feel, or that if she only asked he would have gifted her the universe without a second thought. The note said everything it had to.

“Kinda sucks, all this. I only came on sentient a few hours ago.” Despara stated playing with her hair. The statement of dry humour pulled Hordak back from his day dream. “But I’m glad I had the opportunity to meet all of you. And... and be myself, even if it was short lived.” Despara finished. The words brought smiles to her fellow brothers, the past few Horde cycles were the craziest experiences of their lives, because they were experiencing life itself for the first time. They decided where their paths led. Especially Despara. She wasn’t always... herself. What was going to become Despara was clone DSP-772,411, whom was the detention guard overseeing Catra’s cell. ‘411 had never met an other lifeform other than clones. Des was a servant clone. Never stepped outside the perimeter of The Velvet Glove. Her insight on the lay out of the ship came in useful to the defects in their infiltration to kill Prime. ‘411 always felt like they weren’t serving their cause properly, along side their dying brothers on the frontlines. Though not on the battlefield she risked her life every day. Prime had a tendency for violent mood swings. A dinner party for Prime’s guests could be more traumatising and devastative to a clones health than the war trenches. Many clone have begged to be sent to the frontlines to escape the unspeakable horrors which occurred within the walls of the warship.

‘411 was immediately drawn to the captive Magicat. Catra spilled her heart, cried and whimpered, talked about an old flame of hers, about how she hurt people close to her. About how she was sorry. And ‘411 listened to all of it. And at the end, when Catra’s tears dried up and she quieted down, all ‘411 could ask was, what a ‘she’ was. It must’ve shocked Catra, eyes wide in confusion and mouth drooping low in surprise. Hordak wasn’t there when she did, but he could’ve imagined the cat’s reaction, mostly because his first Force-Captains had the same reaction when he first asked that same question in his first years on Etheria. Captain Octavia had quite an interesting evening that day. He made her swear an oath of silence, to never speak of that embarrassing encounter.

Clones had no concept of sex or gender, things just were the way they were. As Prime intended them to be. Perfect. The bodies and missions given to them by Prime were unquestionable. And it never was questioned, because none knew what other possibilities were out there. The alien armies of the Horde encountered were all different and unique, but there was no time or reason to study them. It wasn’t an objective. Prime did not care. Her brothers may have not fully understood, what Despara meant when she said she was always ‘she’ deep down, but none argued, none protested against their new sister. She was a clone, a defect, one of them. She was a new experience. One of a kind. And as Vultak put it ever so elegantly, “Cool. I never had a sister before.”

It was ultimately her who let Catra out and helped her escape back to the Alliance. Hopefully she got that kiss she so desperately needed. Hordak met ‘411 only once before being sent off back to the frontlines, his return and the assault on the Velvet Glove, and briefly at that, on his way with a breakfast tray to Queen Glimmer’s guest room.

“Hey, hey, stop with that sappy stuff.” Mosquitor waved his hand dismissively, rolling his eyes. Moe, as his brothers called him, much like most clones including Hordak, wished to at all times seem tough. Poor MSQ-999,332 had it worse than most. He hide his defection for much longer than Hordak. The illness became so bad that eventually he could no longer use his own legs, his waist and legs lost near all muscle mass. And so ‘332 became paralysed. He was just slowing down his platoon down, so his lower body was amputated. Of course the brother that rescued and brought Moe on board was executed for the crime of ‘Conferring with Inappropriate Machinery’. And Prime personally threw Moe out the airlock back down to the battlefield. ‘332 spent most of his days afterwards, crawling across mudded trenches. Luckily, Moe met on that some battlefield, MUD-111,117, or Modulok.

Nothing, but hatred and vengeance flew through his veins, it did for all of them. Mode managed to construct a life support system, for Moe, a walking hospital bed. Many parallels could’ve been made between it and Hordak’s own First Ones suit, created by Entrapta. Moe’s unit was twice the size of Hordak, it made him tower over even Prime, but the biggest difference was, Hordak’s suit was near indestructible, Moe on the other hand even if he had intimidation on his side, the armour was more for life support than anything. Mosquitor faired better from a distance, ‘332 was an amazing snipper. The room shook more, sparks fling from wiring in the wall, the walkway holding them vibrated and shuttered. Moe took hold of Zed in his large arms, readying for the end.

The sight made Hordak thankful that Entrapta took Imp and got him to safety. The Lord of the Horde didn’t think he could’ve handled having to be forced to watch he’s own creation die... his little spy. He was safe, back on Etheria, in a loving home with a loving overseer. He only hoped that she’d teach Imp her ways, and hoped that one day Imp would grow into an intelligent man worthy enough to continue her legacy of brilliance.

Zed was the youngest of all the clones, although technically the creature wasn’t even a clone, but rather a hybrid. A prototype of the ‘splicing initiative’. A combination of Prime’s DNA and an unknown gene pool. The kid was an attempt at a creation of super soldiers, but failed. Poor kid always wanted to meet that other half of him. That other person that aided in bringing him into the world. This awful, awful world. Sadly, he never will, but he was the first to follow Hordak into the chamber. The boy did say back on the frontlines, that he’d jump into fire after him. And it was true. And to be more accurate, he didn’t say, he signed. All the defects learned the universal galactic sign language. Zed might’ve been silent, but his voice wasn’t unheard.

He’s fate should have been a better one. He didn’t deserve this, he had a full life in front of him. Hordak never knew what drew Zed to him, why he asked so many questions, why he snuck out at night to see him in the trenches. When Prime sent Hordak back to the frontlines, after his torturous reconditioning, he lost hope, but when he stepped out, or rather more accurately, when he was thrown out the troop dropship. Face first in a muddy trench dozens of defects thrown down with him. When he looked up from the dirt and filth, a slither of hope ignited in his belly, as a hand extended to him. Wonder in the boy’s eyes. He overheard Hordak’s mention of being trapped on other worlds.

”Hey, V you’re staring into the ceiling buddy. Talk to us.” Modulok snapped his fingers at his winged brother. Vultak didn’t turn to face him, mesmerised by the ceiling falling apart. V’s facial expression showcased a hypnotised look. As a combat aerial unit he always did look into the skies. But it probably had to do something with the impending doom below. ‘Don’t look down.’ Hordak remembered was the advise Vultak gave him when they leaped out onto the Velvet Glove from the stolen dropship, which exploded seconds later in the void of space as it was cut up with laser fire. VLT-441,441 was a paratrooper in the Horde military, until of course his defect began to show. He was always used to jumping into certain death, fearless in any mission. Vultak didn’t fear anything physical, nothing in the universe made him back down. But now, at the end he looked frightened, he couldn’t look down, do no more leaps of faith, for faith, he lost.

It’s true V feared nothing physical, because he had faith. He was a man of god. A believer. But what happens to a man when your god turns his back on you? Horde Prime knew defection was inevitable for many clones. No machine was perfect, especially no war machine. So Horde Prime infused prophecies and implanted messages into all clone subconscious, so that when defection occurs, all clones are compelled to return to him. Easier than hunting them down, easier to cover up the disgrace of his failures. Easier to hide his mistakes, he couldn’t afford to let those space fairing races above him mapping his progress to know about things like that. Couldn’t afford to let those higher than him know he was capable of mistakes. Perfection was expected of him. Those others above him, he tried to impress them, to have them take him in, show him enlightenment. He, all he wanted to do, was show he was worth their celestial time, he was worth something.

And now he was nothing. He is now dead. Hordak found that he began to enjoy poetry and it’s irony more and more, in a twisted sort of way. They were truly clones.

“Do you... Do you think there’s something out there for us? Up there, where ever?” The questions were deafening, everyone hoped Vultak wouldn’t have gone existential on them. But Vultak was the biggest patriot of them all, even surpassing Hordak’s obsession with their brother. And in turn he was the one most hurt by Prime’s betrayal. He was no god, no grand being, just a liar. Hundreds of thousands murdered... for him, because they believed their big brother. Hundreds of thousands, they murdered, for a lie.

“Do you think any of it was true? Do you think he believed any of it? Or was it ALL a lie?” Hordak answered V’s question in his mind, since never before was it a private place: Yes. All a lie. “The Perfect World. The Grey Mound? The Holy Peak? The Great Darkness?” V grit his teeth, another wave of pain from his broken arm.

“Worried about being sent to the bad place, V?” Modulok asked, weak smile wearing.

“I’m just wondering. What’s waiting in the beyond for a guy like me. It can’t be anything good... if there even is anything up there... or down there.” Modulok decided to stand up and close the distance between him and his distraught brother. He leaned against the railing on which Vultak perched himself.

Mode gently touched V’s shoulder, it made sure V looked at him when he spoke. “I promise you, where ever you wake up on the other side, I’ll be there with you. And I’ll always fix you up after you jump into certain doom. Brother, you have my word.” It was true, the two were inseparable. Through pure chance the two met on the frontlines. While V had his head in the clouds, Mode grounded him, pulled him down to his level. Mode was a realist. He was bad at his bed side manner, he never lied to himself or his patients. He was a field medic, he saw things no one should, endured horrors unimaginable to the innocent. Modulok was the oldest to them, he was through a lot, fighting from world to world longer than any of them in Prime’s name. Over the many decades the spark of pride dulled, Mode found himself lost, fighting across the stars for a cause he no longer believed in.

Mode’s defection was haunting, even to other defects, whom experienced hardships and injustice. Modulok’s defection was the most dire Hordak ever seen, MUD-111,117 developed a second head, and two left arms. His genome could have been compared to a computer glitch, untreated it just got worse. It was a miracle that Mode managed to make it to such an old age. Many species across the universe considered age to be a weakness, a disadvantage, but ‘117 always argued that with age came experience, and with experience came knowledge, which in turn led to wisdom. It was Mode who constructed Moe’s suit, led Des’s surgery, gave V his wings and taught Zed sign language. A true veteran. He had been through it all.

But Mode never helped Hordak with anything, ‘ 117 was a medic, he was compelled to fix others. But when Hordak first arrived at the frontlines of Primus Minor, he isolated himself from everyone else, kept to himself. Hordak treated his own wounds, he worked on his armour alone. When he took the suit off, he was forced to walk on his own, no armour support system. And so he locked himself in an unused compartment of the trenches and over the course of six months, he learned how to walk. Baby steps to an adult man, who never had a childhood. Mode gathered from all of that, that Hordak was a loner. A solo act. Didn’t do well with people.

There came a day when Mode pulled Hordak off to the side and asked him why he worked through all that baggage alone? Why didn’t he ask for aid? Why did he ignore them? Hordak apologised that it seemed like he was avoiding them. And what Hordak said back in response was more of a cryptid puzzle than an actual answer

“Mode... If there is good and evil.

And good is better than evil.

God has to be good... Right?”

“I suppose so.”

“So, are we good? Are we... like him?”

“What do you think?”

“I think there’s no such thing as good or evil.

But it’d be nice... to be good.”

It was clear that Hordak, was on a long journey, one he had to trek himself. Search and find the meaning of it all on his own, in his mind. He needed to find his own meaning and purpose. And what that meant to him.

“So, anybody got any idea how much time we’ve got left?” Despara asked looking at Modulok. Who just shrugged in return, he didn’t exactly have a timer, he simply estimated the time remaining. “So that’s a no? We don’t kno- We can just blow up at any second?... Cool.” Des combed her hair with her fingers to calm her nerves.

“You really think a timer would settle your nerves?” Moe asked unconvinced.

“I suppose not.” Des admitted.

“I could’ve been with her.” Hordak spoke up suddenly in the middle of the conversation, honestly he was so quiet Despara forgot he was there, even though he was seated right next to her.

“What’d ya mean?”

“I could’ve saved myself... the First Ones crystal, it’s a server. To help me sync up with her new armour, Entrapta recorded my brain waves on the crystal. My memories, my thoughts, my personality, all of it... I could have given it to her when I last saw her.

But I didn’t.

I lied.

I left her.”

All five siblings turned their heads side to side take turns looking at each other and then back at Hordak. His face unmoved. Looking at the purple crystal. Zed stood up and broke free of Moe’s embrace. The young one stepped up to him. Hordak’s blood red eyes drifted up to the boy’s hands. He signed.

‘Why?’

“...Because it wouldn’t be me. Not me. A clone of me.”

The clones fell silent. Head bowing down. No more needed to be said. Every aspect of their lives had been thrown into question, into uncertainty. When the assault on The Velvet Glove happened, Hordak was leading the charge. Prime captured him and tortured him, he hurt him in front of Entrapta. He fell to his knees and crawled back to Prime, like he always did. But this time it was different, he stood up, he walked to him. Like a man, not a dog. Prime insulted and demeaned him. Prime claimed that Hordak wasn’t a person. Clones were nothing, ‘mere shadows of his greatness’. The clones were him, just dirtier, unclean. A lesser version of what he was.

This was their stance against that. Showing that their lives meant something. That they were worth something. They were worth the world, for that was what they were saving.

The force field beneath them gave off a thunderous sound, a final warning. The bay shook one more time, the artificial gravity became disabled and the room began to tilt and shift. The metal walls crumbled like paper. The walkway began to swing and crack. Mode took V’s unbroken hand into his own. Moe embraced Zed in his arms one last time. Dess wrapped her arm around Hordak’s shoulder, and he in turn pressed his head against hers.

Modulok gave his last words in the form of a question, “...Do... Do you think... Could we have done something, could we have ended up with a happy ending, all of us? Could we have been good? Would it have made any difference?”

Hordak spent his last moments thinking, he didn’t realise he was thinking out loud, “Good? I think there’s no such thing as good...

But that would’ve been nice...”

The force field imploded, gave in. The fire broke through. The Velvet Glove burned up in the atmosphere. And the clones were no more. And on that day all of Etheria cheered, and celebrated. For the evil was vanquished.

#hordak #entrapta #entrapdak #spop

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thelazyeye · 5 years

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so not to be gay or anythin but i think ur my favorite reddie author. im keepin up with angels in outfields and nothing worth having n i cant remember the last time ive looked forward to fic updates this much. i love the way u write both of them, n like. i get embarrassed RLY easily. haaaate reading smut because of it. but yours is so well written n never seems outta place basically the point of this ask was to say hey, thanks for writing rly fuckin good content and also do u have any recs? /v\

Yes to be gay but I think I love you

Thank you SO much this is such a sweet ask??? Like, so fucking sweet. I’m blushing. I’m honored. I’m thrilled. Also, I have TONS of recs. Some of them are the really big hitters that may have slipped through the cracks when the fandom resurged. Those I’m putting at the very bottom of this list. There is plenty of NSFW stuff and some MCD stuff so please read all the tags and warnings before you read the fics if you’re sensitive!

Scorpion Grasses by PimpedOutGreenEars

“Tell everyone… Tell everyone I’ll miss them. And Eds, tell him… Just promise to call him Eds for me every once in a while. So he won’t forget me.”

On his last night in Derry Richie shares a bottle of red wine with Beverly. He makes promises to send letters he knows he won’t remember to write, cries a lot, and then ends it with the boy he loves who’s just dumb enough to love him back.

Dig Your Grave by queenjameskirk / @cryingbilldenbrough

The memories don’t go all at once, but they are gone eventually.

Richie forgets.

That’s Where You’ll Find Me series by piginawig / @bookeddie

27 years later, Eddie survives the battle in the sewers. Richie is there on his road to recovery.

Fast Car (Had A Feeling I Belonged) by marsisaplanet / @marsisaplanetyall

Eddie wants to get out of Derry, so does Richie. Together, they make their escape.

Don’t Meet Your Heroes by LadyBoBo / @bisexualgoblin

Eddie falls in love with Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier when he is twenty-three years old. Of course, at this point, he hasn’t actually met him.

Eurydice; The Original Comeback Kid by Vulcanodon

Richie makes a deal with the devil and Derry pays the price. The Losers reunite to deal with the consequences.

“Behind him, almost imperceptible, he hears the footsteps. Richie’s heart jumps in his chest and he lets out a rush of air but before he can turn Pennywise is in his ear saying, REMEMBER RICHIE: DON’T LOOK BACK.

“Okay, okay.” Richie says, every muscle in his body aching to turn around. “Old school, I can dig it.”

Die Tomorrow, Do It Today by hikash0 / (In progress also it’s poly losers club)

In the winter of 1992 something goes very wrong with Derry’s water system. Infection and disease take root while ghosts from the past rise up to greet the living.

The Losers Club rely on each other to survive a zombie outbreak. Maybe it’s time to confess a few things.

Into The Dark by nb_richie (shipit)

Richie and Stan have seen and dealt with a lot of cases in the years they’ve been working together, from cults to cartels. A case in Derry, Maine, proves to be one of the most horrific for them and for the two local officers they’ll be working with. And on top of it all, Richie keeps remembering things he’d rather forget.

Even When I Lose, I’m Winning by Enj0ltaiRe / @tozierboy

“A comedian?” Eddie asked, downright horrified, as he looked up at Beverly Marsh, stopping his cup of coffee before it touched his lips. “No. Absolutely not. I’d rather stay single for the rest of my life than date a comedian.” He said, spitting the world out as if it had a bitter taste in his mouth.

Anything, Everything by deathstranded

They’re cuddled up together on the sofa one night, Eddie’s head resting on his collarbone, watching some trashy action flick, when Eddie, out of nowhere, says, “Um, is it normal, do you think, to like it when it hurts during sex?”

Eddie has a pain kink. Richie isn’t so sure.

Meet Me In The Graveyard by Oldguybones / @oldguybones (In Progress)

After almost five years apart, the Losers club reunites to spend the weekend together at Mike’s lakeside cabin. Armed with booze and total solitude, the gang plans to make up for lost time and catch up with those who were once the most important people of their youths. Tensions fly as lost love is rekindled and friendships are divided. But they soon begin to realize that they are not alone. Someone or something is out for blood and will not rest until they get it. What will the Losers do?

Versions of the Same Mask by tinyarmedtrex / @tinyarmedtrex

When world famous actor Ben Hanscom goes missing his wife calls in two very different people to find him. Richie Tozier, a well known bounty hunter who ignores any rules except his own and Eddie Kaspbrak, an exemplary detective who prefers to work alone.

Blackbird by michelllejones / @michelllejones

“Ho-ly fuck,” Richie whispers, and Eddie has never been so fucking scared. Not when he saw the leper, not when he confronted his mother about his pills, not when they fought It in the sewers. Never. Eddie screws his eyes shut and clutches at the material of his jeans.

Please be too high to notice, please be too high to notice, please be too high to notice

“Eddie?”

5555 by weepies / @finnwolfhard

“I am not harmless,” Eddie had said, his eyes thundering—a challenge. “I could ruin your life.”

“I dare you,” Richie had replied, a smug smile on his face.

I Might Be Dreaming, I Might Be Dead by andthewasp / @andthwasp

Insomniac brain surgeon Eddie Kaspbrak lives in a world where people share dreams with their soulmate.

Tear It WIth Your Teeth by belby

"We could leave this place, Eddie,” Richie says. “God, imagine that? Not having to live in this trash dump anymore. We could go wherever we wanted. A different place every night.”

The Love of the Loser’s Club series by tozier / @rebeccabunch

Loving so much it hurts is a rewarding and dreadfully terrible thing. Seven people who all grew up in the wrong place at the wrong time know this all too well, but wouldn’t give their love up for the world despite it. That might just be the only thing any of them have in common. They hope it’s enough.

#fic rec #ems fic rec #Anonymous #Em Answers

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emilx311 · 5 years

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Tobirama had been blind since birth, he dealt with it, even when his lack of sight led to shenanigans. Madara, on the other hand, was very confused by Tobirama's seemingly random habits. Or, four times Madara really should have figured out Tobirama was blind and the one time it actually came up.

My first MadaTobi week story! I'm hoping to do 4 of these in total. This is for the blind Tobirama prompt

read on AO3 or under the cut, also if you enjoyed this please buy me a coffee

Senju Tobirama had a secret. It was not one he really cared about, but his father had and keeping it had become a habit over the years. You see, Tobirama was blind. He had been born that way, with his eyes closed and his senses open. Hashirama and Touka knew, as did a few of the older Senju, but even within his clan most did not. Tobirama had never understood why others seemed to make such a big deal about it. He had never had it so he could not miss it and he had found ways to compensate for anything his blindness may have prevented him from otherwise doing. He was a capable and deadly warrior so he really did not see why anyone would care. This was why he had never thought to tell the Uchiha of his condition even after pulling his blow on Izuna to create peace and helping their brothers to build the village of their dreams.

One of the first things Madara noticed about Tobirama after peace was established was how messy his handwriting was. This seemed odd since anyone who spent any time around the brothers could see that Tobirama was the organized, logical one. He was the one who came up with the systems, the one who kept his brother in check and on task. And yet, while Hashirama had the beautiful handwriting befitting of a clan head's son Tobirama's was chicken scratch. It was messy and slanted and almost impossible to read. The albino seemed aware of this, had even hired someone specifically to be his scribe, but never did anything to fix it. Madara wanted to say something about it, but none of the Senju reacted or seemed to think it strange and he didn't want to make it seem as if the Uchiha were criticizing their heir. Izuna also thought it odd, but when he asked his brother he was unable to offer a possible explanation even after all the years he had spent fighting and studying the other.

Madara was watching Tobirama again, Hashirama noticed. He’d been doing that quite a bit since Tobirama had pulled his blow to Izuna, but this time seemed different. Instead of being focused on his brother himself the Uchiha was squinting at the book held in his brother’s hands. It was a braille book because Tobirama had just gotten back from a mission the night before and his chakra was still low, but otherwise Hashirama saw nothing out of the ordinary about it.

“Something wrong? You seem distracted” Hashirama asked his friend off-handily. Madara hummed, still focussed on Tobirama.

“Not really just…what is your brother holding?” Madara asks in return. Hashirama gives him a confused look.

“What? It’s a book” he replies. Madara blinks before looking at him quizzically.

“But there’s no words on it and he’s not using it to write in” Madara points out.

“Of course not, it’s written in braille. He always reads that way when he’s tired or low on chakra, it’s more relaxing for him” Hashirama explains. He’s surprised that Madara has never seen his brother read braille before, he does it often enough. Tobirama really did find it more relaxing since he didn’t have to focus his chakra when he read this way. It was almost as good as swimming for de-stressing him.

“Oh” was all Madara could say to that and Hashirama wandered away happily with no idea he’d left his friend even more confused than before.

Madara blinked. He blinked again. The sight in front of him didn’t disappear or change. He activated his Sharingan just to be sure. Everything stayed the same. So, he was not hallucinating or caught in a genjutsu, so what he was seeing had to be real. He took a moment to wrestle with that idea, but he just couldn’t accept it. There had to be an illusion of some sort, had to be! There was absolutely no way in the world Senju Tobirama would be dressed in that otherwise. No way!

He had tracked the Senju down to one of the more secluded training grounds with a few questions about paperwork only to find the sight in front of him. At first glance everything seemed normal enough. Tobirama was flowing through a series of katas, moving fluidly but slowly from one pose to the next with precision and control. He was covered in a light sheen of sweat that made his clothes cling in delicious ways. That was not the problem (or at least not the one Madara was focussed on, the one that is preventing him from appreciating this view). The clothes themselves were even, on a basic level, appropriate training wear. A pair of flexible capris and a teeshirt with a V-neck plus the mesh he wore underneath. No, the problem, the huge mind-bending, reality-warping problem was the colour of the clothes.

The pants weren’t too bad he supposed, being a darkish shade of green unfortunately reminiscent of vomit. They, at least, had the redeeming quality of providing some camouflage with the forest. The shirt did not. The shirt had nothing redeeming about it what so ever. It was a horrendous shade of neon pink (Madara wasn’t sure where the younger man had even been able to find it). The colour would have been bad enough on its own, but when contrasted with the pants was somehow even worse. ‘And’ he noticed distantly, ‘neither of them suits his colouring very well anyway’.

“What the fuck Senju?” He demanded once his brain had rebooted enough for his mouth to work. The Senju in question heaved a sigh and turned to give the Uchiha his full attention in the hope it would get him to leave sooner.

“What Uchiha? It’s called training. I would have thought you aware of the concept, or are you so above us mere mortals that you don’t need it?” He questioned, annoyed at being interrupted.

“What, no! Not the training, of course I know what that is! I meant the clothes! What the hell are you wearing?!?” Madara screeched, waving his hands towards the offending items. Tobirama blinked looking very confused.

“I’m wearing clothes as you yourself just pointed out. I fail to see the issue with it. They are hardly immodest and provide the lightness and flexibility I require to optimize my training” he responded blandly.

“You-immodest, no, what?” The Uchiha sputtered. Tobirama gave him a judgemental ‘get to the point’ look. “It’s not the type of clothes that’s the problem! It’s the colour! Are you trying to make all of Konoha go blind???” He questioned. Tobirama glanced down self-consciously.

“Is it really that bad?” He asked. “I mean, I know they’re not the best, which is why they were in my training clothes pile in the first place, but I didn’t think it was-”

“They are” Madara cut him off. “Please, for the sake of us all, burn them. Or, at least the shirt. No one deserves to see that, not even you.” Then, because he has always been far too curious for his own good, he asked, “where did you even buy that, and why?”

“No idea” Tobirama replied with a shrug. “Brother gave it to me, likely as a joke so he could laugh when I grabbed and worse it out by accident”. Madara paused for a moment at that, but it did sound like something Hashirama would do. He wasn’t sure how Tobirama could miss the colour (his eyes!) but then again, he wasn’t always the best in the mornings himself.

“Humph, just do the world a favor and burn it. The idiot’s likely already forgotten about giving it to you” he advised again, only to start sputtering, again, as Tobirama pulled the shirt off right in front of him. “What are you doing now???” He shrieked, a blush forming at the sight of the other’s pale, sculpted chest highlighted by the darkness of the mesh.

“I’m taking your advice. If it’s really that bad I may was well take the chance to get rid of it now. Uchiha are rather well known for their abilities with fire” Tobirama pointed out. Madara preened once he understood what Tobirama was suggesting. Burn the abomination? Yes, he could do that! He grabbed it out of the other’s hands, laid it on the ground and made a show of setting it ablaze. Once the offensive object was nothing but ash, Tobirama used a water jutsu to put the fire out.

“Thanks, Uchiha” Tobirama said. Madara nodded in acknowledgement and wandered off, please with his morning’s work. It was only after he was halfway back to the tower that he remembered why he’d been looking for Tobirama in the first place. He thought for a moment before shrugging. The paperwork could wait, what he’d ended up doing had been far more important. Plus, who wouldn’t have gotten distracted at such a sight? He didn’t know how the Senju had been able to stand having it on! (Meanwhile, Tobirama made a note to himself to go over all his clothes with Mito later-he’d had no idea any of them were that bad!)

Tobirama was beyond tired. He’d just gotten back from a mission (not that bad, but still tiring) and had been planning on making his report and then returning home and passing out. Instead, he had walked into the tower only to be greeted by terrified staff, screams, and flames. He pinched his nose, sighed, and set himself to sorting out the chaos.

He was unsurprised to find Madara and Hashirama at the epicenter of the mess. Stopping to shoot a glare at Izuna and Touka who were standing off to the side snickering, he called up a shave of water and dumped it on the two strongest shinobi of their age. Predictably, the screaming then turned into confused sputtering. Tobirama despaired for the village sometimes, and was also vaguely amazed that there even was one with these idiots in charge.

“Tobi! You’re back!” Hashirama cheered once he noticed his brother. He forgot about Madara as he eagerly launched himself forward to hug Tobirama, who neatly dodged him.

“Yes, I am, no, I am not hugging you while you are all wet” Tobirama told him. Hashirama laughed sheepishly. By that point Madara had managed to wrestle his wet hair back away from his face and had switched his glare from Hashirama to Tobirama.

“Oh, you survived, joy” he muttered. The dunking had not improved his already bad mood (Izuna considered it Karma for the number of times Madara had dumped him in the koi pond). Tobirama snorted.

“Yes, I survived, only to come back to this. I thought I specifically told you that I expected the village to be standing, intact, and not on fire when I got back!” Tobirama gave all four of them a pointed look, and they did have the dignity to look a bit abashed, or well, most of them did.

“It is!” Madara protested.

“This building is part of the village and there was definitely fire just a moment ago” he pointed out drily. Madara pinked slightly and looked away from the albino. Now that he had successfully cowed them Tobirama set about finding out what had happened and actually fixing the problems (setting them on fire is not a solution Madara!).

By the time he’d finished with that and finally made his report it was well into the night, and he was, as previously mentioned, very tired and also a bit low on chakra. Because of this, he was not sensing at anywhere near his usual level. This, he maintained, was why he ran into the door. Taking a step backwards and rubbing his head he glared at the offending piece of wood (ignoring how his brother and Madara were snickering). Grumbling, he reached his hand out to grab the nob and pish the door open. It didn’t move. Puzzled, he tried a bit harder, but there were still no results. Madara had, by now, stopped laughing and was starting to look a bit worried. Fed up, Tobirama switched tactics and gave the door a hard yank. This time, it did open-flying backwards with enough force to knock into his head, again. Tobirama cursed, he’d never been fond of doors, while Madara rushed over.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” The Uchiha asked, fluttering around him with actual concern. He glared at Hashirama who was still snickering.

“I’m fine” Tobirama waved him off, “just tired”. Madara made a noise of contempt and began feeling the other’s head for bumps himself.

“It’ll be fine, this is hardly the first time he’s done this” Hashirama reassured him, voice still infused with mirth. “He always has trouble with doors when he gets tired. It’s why he has an open layout and shoji doors in his house, and why he uses windows so often” Hashirama explains, which…kind of makes sense. (Madara had wondered about the window thing. When they were first building Konoha, Hashirama had insisted that all the central buildings needed to have large numbers of windows and then that those windows had to be able to open from the outside. The Senju, when they heard, had all nodded with tired and resigned looks. The Uchiha had been so confused until the buildings actually started seeing use and Senju Tobirama started sliding through them. More than one of his clansmen had had minor panic attacks upon turning around to find Tobirama suddenly there, standing calmly by the window, but they’d gotten used to it quickly enough. It had become a secret pleasure for Madara to watch the albino twist his lean body as he entered or exited by his chosen route.)

“He even swore off door entirely for a few months as a child, would only ever use the windows. Broke a few bursting in when they were locked before everyone finally just gave up and started keeping them open” Hashirama adds. Tobirama looks unrepentant and even seems to smirk at the memory. “Still, this is usually a sign that he really needs sleep, and I still have some things to finish up here so would you mind making sure he gets home safe for me?” Hashirama shot his best pleading face ad his friend who pretended to be annoyed as he agreed (neither Senju was fooled). Once they were out of Hashirama’s sight Madara took the opportunity to wrap an arm around Tobirama, who rolled his eyes.

“I know I’m tired, but I can still walk by myself” he mentioned sarcastically. Madara shrugged.

“Maybe I want an excuse to touch my boyfriend who’s been away” Madara said, smiling with pleasure at the light blush his words cause. Their relationship is still new, having only begun a few weeks ago, but it was good. They would probably get around to telling people soon (neither wanted to deal with their brothers’ inevitable dramatics), but for now they were still keeping it quiet.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier” Madara adds, cringing as he remembered his first words to the newly returned Tobirama. “I am very happy that you’re still alive and back safe”. The Senju leaned into him a little in reassurance.

“I know, it’s fine. You were obviously upset, and my welcome to you was not the warmest either” he told the other. Madara just smiled at him, amazed as he always was that this man was his. They stopped once they reached Tobirama’s home and Madara pressed a light kiss to his lips before letting go and stepping back.

“Think you can manage the door?” He couldn’t resist teasing. Tobirama huffed, but there was a small smile playing around his lips. He walked up to the door and opened it with a big flourish, just to prove he could. Madara laughed.

“Good night then dear heart, sleep well” he told Tobirama who waved a hand in acknowledgement and farewell as he stepped into the house and closed the door behind him. Someday, Madara hoped, they would share a house with plenty of open space and windows and shoji doors where they could retire for the evening together.

It was months after that when things finally came to a head. If he was being honest, Tobirama would have to admit that he’d actually forgotten that Madara didn’t know he was blind. His partner was so good about accommodating him and his quirks that the whole thing had rather slipped his mind. Because of this he was genuinely surprised when it actually came out.

Their relationship was going well and they’d finally decided it was time to tell their families (well, they were both pretty sire Mito already knew, but they would tell everyone else). Since both were aware of their brothers’ personalities and tendency to over react (especially Hashirama) they had decided to do this in private and get it over with all at once. So, they had arranged for a family dinner at Tobirama’s and had invited Hashirama, Mito, Touka, and Izuna. They both knew that once the shock passed their family would be happy for them, but Madara was finding that knowing this did nothing to lessen the nerves churning inside him which was making him twitchy and irritable. Tobirama, Izuna, and Hashirama were the most important people in his life and he had no idea what he’d do if he ever lost one of them, but it would not be pretty. Because of this, he was fluttering around trying to make everything as perfect as possible.

“Why do you only have one vase? And why is it so deeply buried?!” He demanded between muffled curses as he finally unearthed the aforementioned object from the back of a cupboard that looked like it hadn’t been opened since Tobirama moved in. He carefully rinsed the dust off it, filled it with water and the flowers bouquet he’d bought and found it a place near the center of the table.

“Flowers aren’t really my thing since I can’t appreciate them properly. Besides, Anija makes them bloom everywhere anyways, so what would the point be?” Tobirama replies from his perch on the counter across the kitchen. Madara doesn’t really understand the first part but that’s okay because he understands the second way too well.

"Does this look okay? I wasn't sure if the colours of the flowers were too clashing but the clerk assured me, they were offset by the others enough that it didn't matter..." Madara trailed off. He knew he was being a bit ridiculous but the level incredulity in Tobirama's look was hurtful and uncalled for.

“Why in the world are you asking me?” Tobirama asked.

“Because you’re here?” Madara’s reply came out more of a question. “I know you don’t really care much about colour, but you can at least tell me if you can stand looking at them” he huffed. Tobirama froze, his eyes going wide which made Madara freeze in turn because that? That was not a good look.

“Shit” Tobirama murmured to himself and Madara felt as if a cold hand was trailing down his back. Tobirama rarely swore and when he did it usually meant something really big and really bad was going on. He had a split second to wonder if the village was being invaded before Tobirama started talking again. “Fuck, you don’t know! How could I forget you didn’t know?!?” He raked an agitated hand through his white hair. Madara was getting the sense that there was something he didn’t know.

“Ah? Tobi, love?” He questioned when after a minute the other just continued muttering to himself about what an idiot he was. “What don’t I know?” He figured it was best to ask bluntly, he’d never been any good at tact anyway. He was startled when the question made his normally stoic boyfriend blush and fidget ever so slightly.

“I…I didn’t mean to keep it a secret from you” Tobirama started off with, trying to reassure Madara but only succeeding in making him more anxious. “I assumed you knew. That Hashirama had told you at some point or that Izuna had figured it out and it just didn’t bother you which is why you never brought it up…” Tobirama realizing he was rambling forced himself to stop and took a deep breath before, finally, getting to the heart of the matter. “I’m blind” he blurted out. Madara took a moment to digest that.

“Oh” the Uchiha eventually replied dumbly. Tobirama, his strong and skilled lover, the man who’d spared his little brother and made his childhood dreams possible was blind. He wanted to reel in shock but…but he kept remembering instances, and small habits of Tobirama’s he’d observed that suddenly made so much more sense. His handwriting, the scribe he had with him at all times at work, his braille books and the way he would always read them and only them when he was low on chakra. It explained Hashirama’s insistence on giving him the most horrible clothes, why he hated doors and kept everything so neat. Every odd habit and quirk of his lover’s he’d wondered about but accepted (because they were a part of Tobirama and therefore precious) suddenly made sense. He looked back at Tobirama (when had he looked away?) and found him playing with a loose thread looking worried and…ashamed? He realized then that Tobirama expected him to be mad. Expected him to be angry that he’d never mentioned this to him before.

“Oh, Tobi” he crossed the distance between them in quick steps and pulled his boyfriend into his arms. “I’m not mad” he reassured the other. “Yes, I’m surprised because I never would have guessed and I’m maybe a bit annoyed at myself for not noticing the clues, but I’m not upset with you. I’m honoured that you trust me enough to tell me now!” He pulled the other down for a kiss that he poured his soul into. He tried to show the other how much he loved him, how learning this only made his love and admiration for the other’s strength grow. He seemed to have succeeded since Tobirama was beaming at him when he pulled away.

“I love you” the albino told him tenderly as he tucked an escaped strand of black hair back behind Madara’s ear, caressing his face as he went. Madara nuzzled into the hand with a smile. “And I trust you with all that I am” he added. Madara felt his heart skip a beat at the admission and the adoration written plainly in red, sightless eyes. He’d known, of course, but to hear it…They would have details to work out later, questions Madara would need to ask and accommodations he’d learn to provide, but for the moment this was everything he needed and wanted.

“I love you too, there is no one I would rather have beside me” he confessed in turn. Delighting in the way Tobirama’s smile widened even more at the words. Entranced with the man in front of him Madara could do nothing but kiss him again. The world around him faded away until the only thing left was Tobirama. Evidently, his love was having a similar experience since neither of them noticed the arrival of their relatives. They were pulled apart, and back into reality, by Hashirama’s happy squeezing and Izuna’s confused exclamations. Blushing, Madara pulled away to let Tobirama hop off the counter. He kept one hand in Tobirama’s and felt the other give it a comforting squeeze. Tobirama had his back and they would face this together. Strength renewed, Madara set about helping the other deal with the ridiculous people they called family.

#MadaTobi #madatobiweek2019 #Blind Tobirama #Tobirama #Madara #Hashirama #Izuna

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