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zhiridge · 9 months

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Nameless Stars

Written by Darcy Ridge

World brainstormed by Darcy Ridge and Hunter Fawkes

Note: I started this story in January 2023 and completed it in August 2023. As a warning, this story discusses war and violence though nothing is described graphically. The violence that takes place in this story, while probably unconsciously influenced by real conflicts, is not meant to be a direct commentary or allegory to any specific war. Rather, I hope that this story illustrates the consequences of the violent actions of powerful greedy imperial states (*cough*like the United States*cough*) through the lens of a young genderfluid child and her love of drawing. This story is also a sequel to a previous story I wrote titled “Sui Generis,” but that story does not need to be read to understand this one.

Nickel’s parents worked. That was all they did really. Worked through the night in their little apartment while Nickel busied herself coloring the stars on her tablet. She liked stars. She rarely saw them on the planet Enki where the sky was blacked out by plumes of smoke and even if it wasn’t, no one would dare go out at night. So Nickel searched and scoured for images of stars on her device and drew them, nameless, on blank canvases.

“Nickel,” her mother’s voice came from the kitchen. “You should come get some dinner.”

Nickel glanced up to see her mother standing at the kitchen counter. The pale skin under her eyes possessed their usual soreness and her black hair was tangled around her shoulders.

Nickel trudged over to the counter and placed her tablet on its surface. She watched as her mother’s gaze slipped over the drawing the device displayed.

“Stars again, Nickel?” Her mother shook her head and passed her a soup bowl. Nickel scowled at the icky gray substance.

“Why do we always have to eat this?”

“You know why, Nickel.”

Nickel did know why, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t complain. She stabbed her spoon into the bowl and watched as little flecks of gray splattered onto the counter. The specks of liquid bubbled on top of the brown surface and with the neon kitchen lights reflecting on them from above, Nickel could almost imagine them as stars glittering in the dark night. Almost.

Footsteps thudded from behind her and she listened to the clunk of the chair beside her being hauled as her father’s body slumped onto the seat. He sighed.

“What’s going on now, Nate?” Her mother passed him a bowl.

“Still can’t figure some stuff out at the lab.” Another sigh. “How’s it going with you two?”

Nickel’s mother frowned at her husband but didn’t press him to speak more. “Nothing much. Work was normal. We found a poor dog that had gotten caught in a landmine. Lost their back legs, but they’ll be okay.”

Nickel stared at her bowl.

“What about you, son?”

Nickel startled. Her hand clutching her spoon splattered more soup onto the table. “Daughter,” she muttered. “At least for now.”

“What was that?” Nickel’s father asked. She could hear his body shifting to turn toward her.

“Uh, you mean daughter.” Heat flashed across Nickel’s face and her grip tightened around the spoon until the metal dug into her palm.

“Right,” her father said after a few moments. “Sorry…daughter.”

Nickel kept her gaze on the table, but she could feel her parents’ attention on her. “I was just doing some more drawings. You know, the usual.”

“It’s the stars, Nate,” Nickel’s mother said.

“I love your passion, so–I mean daughter, but don’t you want to try creating something…I don’t know…a little closer to home? It’s a bit hard for anyone to relate to stars since no one really has seen them for decades. Even when your mom and I were kids growing up on Earth, we couldn’t see the stars and it’s not any better here on Enki and that’s all you’ve known.”

Nickel stared at her lap. Some soup had sprinkled onto her beige pants creating little damp circles all over her thighs.

She heard her mother shift her position. “I think what your father is trying to say, Nickel, is that maybe you should vary up your drawings. Stars can feel really out of reach to a lot of people…especially with how things have been since we all came to Enki.”

“I’m finished,” Nickel said, standing up. She avoided her parents’ stares.

“You barely had any of your soup,” her mother said. “I’ll put it away for you for later.”

Nickel nodded and ducked away, dashing to her bedroom.

~~~

Nickel tried to draw. She tried sketching the plumes of smoke that hovered above the battlefields in the morning, the dark ships that circled the murky sky every afternoon, and even the way the translucent shield above the city shimmered at night as bombs struck its surface. Nickel was eleven and knew how messy the world was, had seen and heard it firsthand. She had grown up hearing the stories of how when humans first found Enki, the wealthiest nations distributed the land between Earth’s different countries, prioritizing themselves. Yet, those countries, despite allocating the best land for themselves, found themselves wanting more. Enki had been a miracle, her father once said, an uninhabited planet that could host us after fiery rain chased us away from Earth. We had a second chance. But we ruined that because that’s all we can do as humans, let our pain ruin miracles.

Nickel groaned, letting her tablet thump in front of her. A knock sounded on her door.

“Hey, Nickel, can I come in?” Her father.

She peered at her window, which was glazed white in order to hide the horrors outside. When she was younger, her family could change the window to display holographic images of different nature scenes from Earth pre-fiery rain, but now, as the wars went on and energy conservation became more vital, that was no longer an option.

“Yeah, come in,” she replied.

The door slid open and her father took a step into the room. He stood in silence for a moment. “So…what do you got there? It looks a bit like a nebula or something like that.”

Nickel kept her gaze directed at the window. “It was supposed to be smoke plumes. From the bombs.”

“Oh.”

“I couldn’t continue it though…”

Another moment of silence. Nickel fiddled with her tablet’s drawing pencil. The utensil clicked against her nails.

“Nickel, I-I…” Her father broke off. “You remind me of my sister,” he said finally, his voice a whisper.

Everyone knew the story of what happened to Shara Song, younger sister of Nate Song and famous scientist who had left Enki to scout another habitable planet twelve years ago only to go missing. This was the first Nickel had heard anyone compare Shara to her. She looked up at her father. His dark eyes studied the floor. The ceiling lights painted his brown skin an even warmer shade. He looked so vulnerable, Nickel realized. Her father was a leading scientist who had engineered many foods that had prevented their city from starving countless times. She had seen him present his research in person and digitally. He was an elegant speaker…just never around her.

“I killed my sister,” Nickel’s father said quietly. His gaze remained directed at the floor. “I encouraged her to dream and so she left.”

Nickel frowned. “I don’t get it.”

Her father at last looked up and met her eyes. “It’s okay. You’re so young. It’s unfair to ask you to understand.”

Nickel bristled. “I want to though.”

They stared at one another. Their matching brown eyes searched and scanned the other, reaching out in the space between them, until her father’s softened. He took a few muffled steps forward and gestured at the space beside Nickel. She nodded and her father sank down on the mattress beside her.

He picked up the tablet in front of her. “The truth is…I don’t want you making drawings like this. I want you to draw your stars just like my sister and I wanted to explore them…but I’m scared that if you do, you’ll forget about here and get yourself hurt. It-it’s not safe to dream in a place like this.”

Nickel’s eyes began to burn and she turned away from her father and glanced at the blank window to her left. “I’m not forgetting about what’s happening here.”

“Then why do you draw the stars so much?”

“I-I,” she started. She didn’t know how to say that drawing the stars was her way of not forgetting. It was because of everything Nickel saw here that the stars mattered to her so much. She had overheard her mother once say that the wars on Enki were nameless because the pain and destruction couldn’t be understood through human words, and so, to Nickel, the stars became nameless, too. Nameless in a different way though. Nameless through their distance and obscurity. Nameless through their silence and beauty. Nameless through their refusal to be owned and corrupted. She could draw them over and over, knowing she could never truly understand them, but still be in awe of them anyway.

“I don’t know,” she said. Maybe, she realized, in its own way, everything that had happened with her father’s sister was also nameless.

Her father sighed. “Me, too.” He gave a chuckle. “I’m a scientist. It’s my job to know things and yet with you, my creative, passionate sometimes-daughter, sometimes-son who draws the stars, I’m realizing there are some things I can’t know.”

Nickel released the pen in her grasp and let it drop onto the sheets. She leaned onto her father’s shoulders. “I know I’m glad you’re here.”

Her father’s shoulders eased. “I am glad you’re here, too…But you need to eat, so go finish that soup!”

She would continue drawing her nameless stars, but for now, she would hold onto this moment with her father without forgetting anything.

#shortstory #scifi #my writing

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Law of Attraction

Warnings: noncon/rape, anal, spanking, mean Andy, cheating

Prompts: “Every time I see you, I can’t help but see myself inside of you.” & “I love the way you shake… it turns me on.” + Andy Barber + anal, spanking + reader is leaving job and Andy follows her home as requested by @americasass81 and @ironlady1993

Summary: your prospects broaden as a surprise offer is put on the table.

Please leave some feedback and reblog if you enjoy! Thank you 💜

You hate when Halina sends you to Mr. Barber's office. You hate it because it makes you nervous. Well, more nervous than usual. He hardly says a word, only a thanks, and sends you on your way.

It's not that you expect a full conversation, you're not very good at those, but he doesn't even smile. Just watches you. It's unsettling how his blue eyes measure you, sometimes as he presses the end of a pen to his lips as if to aid his thoughts.

But he never says what he's thinking. You can't begin to guess at it either though your inherent insecurity tells you he hates you as much as you hate his office. That he thinks you're annoying, maybe even that you don't belong there.

It hardly matters. Your contract is almost up and you have an offer from a private law office. You've already told Halina but she didn't say much either, only wait and see about a contract there before deciding.

You aren't going to wait and see, you think as you approach Mr. Barber's door, you're going to take the pay raise and the freedom from the bureaucratic stuffiness. You stop and peer past the open door, Andy stands at his desk, shuffling papers as he wears his usually stern scowl.

"Excuse me," you knock on the frame, "coffee."

"Thank you," he says without look up, holding up a page to read as his other hand rests on his hip.

You near and go to place the cup on his desk as usual. He's so enraptured in whatever he's reading he turns and knocks the coffee to splatter across your front as the cup bends in your hand. You gasp and pull your blouse away from your body as the hot liquid burns through.

"Shit," he curses, "you okay?"

"Yeah, I--" your voice cracks as you try to hide the pain, "I'm sorry, I'll go get you a new one."

"Get yourself cleaned up first," he reaches for the box of tissue and pulls out several and offers them to you, "and be careful."

"Okay," you back away and daub at your neck, the smell of coffee clinging to you.

You dump the cup in the trash and go to the bathroom to air out your shirt with the hand dryer and try to wash off the scent. You tell Halina you have to go back down to the kiosk and she sighs before tossing a folder in your direction.

"When you get back," she says bluntly.

You take it and head out, the elevator ride giving you a chance to settle your nerves. You hurry down the pavement and order at the kiosk, the man knows you by name as he hands over the coffee. You thank him quickly and rush back.

Andy's in his office, sitting, leaning back as he browses a stapled bunch of papers. You knock, the same reception, and you cautiously enter and set down his coffee.

He doesn't move, doesn't look up, and you turn on your heel.

"Halina said you're leaving," he intones and you nearly trip.

You hesitantly turn back and nod. He lowers the paper to his lap and rolls forward. He reaches for the coffee and draws it closer.

"That's too bad," he says, "but I can't blame you. Halina's a slave driver."

'It's not her," you eke out, "it's… just I wasn't offered another contract here."

"Ah," he blows on the coffee lid and takes a careful sip, "so you might be back."

"Maybe," you say with a tense smile, "coffee okay?"

"Coffee's coffee," he shrugs and sits back, "thanks."

You take your dismissal and leave him. His curiosity was unexpected but he's all too quickly back to the cold shoulder. You go to your desk and sit heavily with the thick folio.

Your tea is cold. You can't wait to leave this place.

⚖

After your disastrous day, stinking of brewed caffeine, you promise yourself a good meal from the Korean barbeque on the way home. You still haven't celebrated the offer.

You stop by the shop, the savoury aroma mingling with the hiss of the grill. You wait patiently for your order and give a courteous tip before you leave. The styrofoam squeaks in the plastic bag as you walk, tires whispering down the wet street. It will rain again but for now the sky is clear.

You get to your building, an old red brick complex, and fumble with your keys. You see a white vehicle pass by as you glance behind you. Nothing unusual to the gray Nelson malaise.

You climb the stairs to your unit and let yourself in, keys on the dish and damp wedges on the mat. You hang your jacket and bring your take out into the front room.

You put it on the corner table and go to your bedroom to change. You can shower once you appease the beast in your stomach. You pull on a set of floral cotton shorts and a camisole.

As you come back out, there's a thumping on the door. You frown. It's a bit late to be the building manager and you don't associate with your neighbours. You drag your feet, stomach squeezing as you try to ignore the noodles waiting for your indulgence.

You check the peep hole but see nothing. A flicker of fear nips at your neck and you slide the chain into place. You open the door slowly, just an inch as the chain strings tight in the gap.

You're speechless as Mr. Barber stands in the hall. You think of the white SUV more than you did before. You were sure you recognized it.

"Hey," he breaks the silence.

"What… are you doing here?" You ask.

"I…" he seems to think about the question and fixes his tie, his gray jacket open over his dark suit, "I wanted to talk about your contract.'

"What?" You're confused. Why is he here? Not just that he found your apartment but that it was him. "We can discuss it tomorrow--"

His hand catches the door before you can even try to close it. Your heart leaps into your throat. He's strong as the chain strains and you fear it might break from the frame.

"I'm here now," he insists, "can I come in? Please?"

"Mr. Barber--"

"Andy," he corrects you, "I came all the way here."

You purse your lips. You nod and he lets go of the door. You close it and unhook the chain. You let him inside quietly.

He looks around and slips his jacket down his arms. He hangs it over yours and you skirt around him.

"Right back," you promise as you flit off.

You scurry to the bedroom and take your robe, hiding your flimsy pajamas beneath it. You come back out as Andy's pacing along the wall, his eyes stopping on your forgotten degree.

"Hmmm, international relations," he reads, "and you're working as a secretary." You say nothing as you watch him. He peeks over at you and brushes his fingertips over his beard. "Sorry, dad mode."

"You want some water?" You ask awkwardly.

"I'm fine," he says as he turns and crosses to the short loveseat. He unbuttons his jacket and sits. "We should talk."

You go to the couch and try not look at the white plastic that holds your treasure. You're suddenly starving, further agitated by the unexpected visit.

"You said something about my contract," you prompt.

"Mhmm, yeah," he leans back, his arm bent against the couch, "if Halina won't take you back, I'll be more than happy to. I've been talking with HR about a new position--"

"Why?" You blurt out, "I mean, I'm flattered but… I just don't think I'm a good fit."

"Why not?" He asks, "you're a hard worker, you just got a shit boss."

You chew your lip. You want to remind him how much he hates you. His leg sways back and forth, his large hand on his thigh. He pushes his shoulders straight and watches you.

"I already have an offer--"

"I'll match it. I'll fight for that, not that I need to," he interrupts, "whatever you want. I can even get you an office."

You scrunch your forehead and play with the tails of the belt of your robe. You find it hard to look at him, the way his blue eyes bore into you.

"I'm going to be honest, Mr.--"

"Andy," he interjects again.

"Andy, I'm surprised by your offer and as nice as it is, I just don't think… that it would work out."

"Why not?" He leans forward.

"Well, you haven't really made me feel welcome," you say, "maybe that's just how you are but I don't wanna stay. I'm ready to move on."

He inhales and sits back. A long sigh as his jaw squares and he nods at himself. Knuckles pale as he grips his thigh tighter.

"In the spirit of being honest," he begins with frost in his voice, "it's not about the contract."

"What?" You tilt your head.

He pulls his hands forward and twines his fingers together as he leans his elbows on his legs. It's as if you can feel his breath despite the space between you.

"Every time I see you," his voice grits and catches for a moment, "I can’t help but see myself inside of you.”

"W-what?" You chuckle nervously, "right, Mr. Barber," you stand as your veins flow with fiery ice, "I get it. This isn't the first time I've been hazed. I just thought you were too old for this."

"Hazing?" He rises, "I'm serious."

You swallow and measure him. He looks as serious as he says. You want to recoil but fidget instead.

"Mr. Barber--"

"Andy," he girds once more.

"With all due respect, you're married and I'm not interested. I've had nothing from you than glares and short words for a whole year. I don’t see why I would ever--"

You gasp as suddenly you're off your feet. Andy marches you across the room as your toes barely touch the floor, his hand at your throat as he pins you to the wall. Your degree hangs just beside your head.

"Morgan and Callum," he says, "the partners down on Heresford. Callum was in my frat house. Know him pretty well, we still have a beer down at Jerry's during the game."

"How--" you croak as you touch his immovable hand, "Why are you--"

"I tried. I tried to resist. I tried not to think of it. Tried to think of Laurie. I tried to ignore you," he rasps as he leans in, "I tried to be good but you can't just leave me now."

"Andy--" you gulp, "please, you're scaring me."

"I know. I love the way you shake… it turns me on," he breathes, "and this," he tugs on the front of your robe until it slackens, "so hot. I like that little innocent act."

"I don't… I don't want--"

"That's too fucking bad," he snarls, "because I do."

He circles your neck with both hands and hauls you away from the wall. You whimper as he drags you towards the bedroom. Your feet scrape on the hardwood as you struggle against his startling strength.

"Please, Andy--"

"You can call me sir now," he takes you to the bed as your head pulses, "I think I prefer that."

He lets go of your neck only to grab your waist and lift you onto the edge of the bed. You shove him away and kick his stomach. You roll onto your stomach and crawl across the lofty mattress.

He groans and catches your ankle. He tears you back and lets your legs fall over the edge. He stretches his hand across the small of your back and holds you down. You writhe desperately as he lifts the rob and yanks down your shorts.

His first slap makes your bones rattle. You cry out and claw at the blankets as you try to escape.

"Nnnghhhh, n-no," you whine, "please, stop--"

He swats the back of your head then swiftly slaps your ass again, a stinging pain rippling down your thighs. He shushes you and rubs your tender flesh, pulling back once more to lay another vicious strike.

"You keep on like this and I'll have to put my foot down," he growls, "the things I've dreamt of doing to you, honey."

"You can stop, right now," you eke out, "Andy, go home to your wife--"

"You don't talk about my fucking wife," he snaps and smacks your ass again, "you understand me?"

"Ah! Yes…" another spank, "yes, sir."

Your helplessness, your confusion, the unsettling reality sinks in you stare at the dark windows as the rain begins to pelt the glass.

"That's it, honey," he gropes your ass with both hands, "stay."

He drops his touch and backs away. You quiver and turn to watch him go to your night table and he pauses, snapping his fingers as he glances over his shoulder.

"Eyes forward," he demands as he rolls open the drawer.

You hear him fumbling around inside as you look back to the gloomy clouds. He approaches you and you hear a click. You feel a cool trickle along your ass as he squirts the lube out.

"Not so sweet, huh?" He says as he spreads the oil with his fingers. Down your crack and along your folds. You murmur and hold your breath, "got lots of fun stuff hidden around here."

"Please," you beg one last time as his fingers rub along your cunt.

"Shut up," he sneers and forces two fingers into you.

You cry out as he sinks to his knuckles and presses his thumb to your clit. The bottle of lube bounces beside you as he rocks his hand. You brace the mattress and breathe into the coverlet.

"I feel you squeezing me," he rasps, "don't act like you haven't been waiting for this. A sweet little cunt like yours needs a good fucking. Those toys are nothing but poor substitutes."

You groan and turn your head as you puff out, your orgasm thrumming at his touch. He chuckles darkly as your back wracks with tension and your thighs quake as you cum.

"That's it, honey, gotta be ready for me," he taunts as he urges you through your climax, "fuck, look at you, milking my fingers like a needy slut."

You hum as he stills his hand. He keeps his fingers inside you as his buckle clinks and you feel him shift. He line his tip up above his fingers and stretches you around him. It's painfully delightful.

"You're taking all that," he purrs as he thrusts deeper, "such a good girl." You clench and he grunts, "fuck, you're fucking begging for it."

He jerks his hips and fills you completely. You exclaim and throw your head back, fingers curling along a fold of the blanket as you hiss through the unnatural strain. He was thick but with his fingers fucking you too, he was overwhelmingly so.

"Oh, honey, you're cumming again," he mocks, "making a fucking mess of me."

You whine and bend your legs back around his as you contort and lift your ass. He bucks and slips his fingers out of you and drags them up your thigh.

He delves between your cheeks, a steady pace rocking your body as he swirls around your tight ring. You pucker as he spreads your cum with the lube and reaches for the bottle again.

He adds more oil and prods at your hole until he gets a fingertip inside. You groan and bare your teeth. He dips his finger into you completely and pulls back, a burning pressure adding to that in your cunt.

You moan as the odd searing had you torn between wanting him to stop and wanting more.

He pokes his middle finger into you and you shake at the torturous intrusion. He pulls in and out in time with his hips and your voice flows wildly, swinging between pain and pleasure.

He slips out of your cunt and his dick bobs up against your ass. He slides his fingers out and grips his dick, pushing against your ring as you writhe. The panic of his entry thrumming through you.

"No," you whimper, "please…."

He gets his tip inside and your voice cracks. Your breath is trapped in your chest as he inches deeper and the flames crawl through you. You bellow as he sinks into you and you press your feet to his legs.

"It hurts…," you gasp.

"Feel so good," he rumbles and reaches his limit as you squirm, "oh god, honey, that's all of me."

He tilts his hips and your eyes prick as you cry out. He moans at the movement and pulls back further, slamming back in with deep exhale.

"Oh, oh, oh," he gasps, "your ass is amazing, honey."

He slowly picks up pace, thrusting a bit sooner with each stroke. He grunts as he bottoms out over and over and kneads your ass greedily. You succumb to the pain and lay limp across your bed.

Just finish, just finish, you plead in your head.

"Shittttt," he grits out and slips from you complete, "turn over!"

You don't move and he grabs your hip and flips you. He reaches up and grabs the back of your neck as he pulls you off the bed and steps closer. He pumps himself as he urges you down and presses his tip between your cleavage. He quakes as he cums and roars, a hot mess streaking up your tits.

He sighs and lets you go, winces as he pulls his glistening hand from his dick, strings dripping down his pants.

"I don't hate you," he growls, "I hate that you make me like this."

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #request #defending jacob

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tessiete · 3 years

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hii so idrk if u take reqs but can we have some korkie and obi-wan on fathers day?

Well, I have no concept of time, BUT I have finally completed this prompt! Hope you find it, anon, and I hope it lives up to your desires! Featuring cameos from Anakin, and Satine! Buituur = Parent's Day (It's become a full week, at this point!) Ijaat'ilor = Honour Meal Amalios = August(ish) (Basic) Haa'Tabguri = February(ish) (Mando'a) Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum = I love you. Alright, I think that's all the preamble! HERE WE GO!!

Master Kenobi has never missed a single Buituur Festival - not in all the seven years that Kiorkicek has been on Coruscant. Every year, with careful diligence, his master has marked off the dates on the little chronocalendar posted just at the door of Korkie’s room. It is always one standard week, but it always changes.

“It is based on the cycle of the moons,” his master says. “And there are two to keep track of, you know.”

“Yes!” Korkie agrees, eager to display the quality of his education. “Concordia, for eternal friendship, and Amity, for change.”

“Very good, Kiorkicek,” says his master, as he uses his stylus to draw a thick line across five days near the end of Amalios, which Korkie knows will be sometime in Haa’Tabguri on Mandalore.

“And will we go again this year?” he asks, bouncing on his seat. The thin pallet of his bed doesn’t rebound with the same elasticity as the one on Mandalore, but that’s alright - his enthusiasm is buoyant enough.

“Of course,” says his master, just as he knew he would, and Korkie grins.

“Thank you, Bebu! Thank you!”

His father understands, and his father would never miss it.

But the turn of the stars serves no single man’s purpose, and events conspire to grind promises to ash. Four years later, they are somewhere else, somewhere far away when Buituur Festival comes, and they cannot make it.

“You promised,” he says, cloak drawn tight to his body as he slides down the co-pilot seat, propping his feet on the dash. “You said we would be back in plenty of time.”

“I know what I said, Kiorkicek, but I was wrong.”

His master flicks a switch, calculating a sedate and altogether conservative flightplan back to Coruscant. Korkie watches the numbers scroll, and scoffs. Anakin would laugh at such a course. Anakin would die of shame if Obi-Wan were his master.

“So you lied,” Korkie says, toeing at one of the atmocontrols with his boot.

“Feet off, please,” says Obi-Wan. “I didn’t lie. I miscalculated.”

Korkie swings his legs to the floor, and stands with all the indignant wrath of a sullen fifteen year old. “Same thing,” he sneers, then he sweeps out the door to find his bunk.

The ship is too small for true privacy, and he’s compelled to share the narrow quarters with his father, but he’s not feeling particularly generous right now, so he shuts the door, and locks it behind him. Master Kenobi can sleep in the cockpit for all he cares.

He flops onto his bed, and throws his boots aside, unpolished. His cloak he drops in an untidy pile beside his bed. Let it crease, he thinks, as he pulls his tabards loose and flings his belt to the floor to join them. Let them wrinkle. I hope I lose them all. From the depths of his rucksack, still splattered with mud from their uncivilised flight, and hasty departure, he digs out a battered Temple issued comlink. Beneath his feet, he feels the rumble of engines drop to something subaural, and his stomach bottoms out to follow. For a moment, he feels weightless, like he sits at the top of a huge fall, but then he comes back to himself, and he flings himself backward over his bed. They’ve entered hyperspace.

No matter. It won’t get them anywhere fast enough to turn back time. Forget Anakin’s embarrassment - if it takes them sixteen years to return to Coruscant Korkie couldn’t care less. It’d still be too late.

He flicks through his comdeck to find Anakin’s number, and pings him.

“What?”

Anakin’s voice fills the room, staticky with distance and movement. There’s no image, so Korkie assumes he’s in the middle of something.

“Hello to you, too.”

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” says Anakin, confirming Korkie’s hypothesis.

Korkie runs his hand through his hair in distress. “Well, I’m absolutely in the middle of nowhere,” he bemoans. “You should see the course my father set for this trip. I think Master Yaddle is a braver pilot than he is.”

“That sounds like Obi-Wan,” says Anakin. “One sec.”

There is the shuffle of fabric over the amplifier, and then muffled voices in the background. He thinks he hears Master Qui-Gon, and maybe distant blaster fire. A typical mission for the Jinn-Skywalker team. At least they have some excitement.

“You still there?” asks Anakin, a few minutes later.

“Nowhere else to be,” Korkie sighs.

“What’s wrong with your dad?” he asks, and Korkie frowns.

“Nothing,” he replies. “Why would you ask?”

“I dunno,” replies Anakin. He can hear the distraction in his voice. “Why else would you be calling me?”

Korkie sighs, making sure it is extravagant enough to be heard over the com. “Because I’m suffering,” he says.

Anakin’s tone hardly changes. Still that distracted disinterest. “Okay, well, tell him to call Master Jinn when he can. Something about remembering to bring back some nadashaap leaves from Sundari, or something.”

“We’re not going to Sundari.”

“Mandalore,” says Anakin. “Wherever. Look, I’ve really got to go. I - yes, master! I see them!” A lightsaber hums. “Korkie?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got to go.”

“May the Force be with you,” he says, but Anakin’s already signed off.

He ought to call his mother, and explain. She answers almost immediately, and he feels guilty - had she been waiting?

“Korkie, my love!” Her face appears, tinted blue and blurred with the flickering light of a hologram, but it is her, and Korkie aches to see her smile. “How are you, darling?”

“Fine,” he says, but he cannot smile in return.

“Are you keeping up with your studies?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Your father says you have top marks in Core History, and Outer Rim Politics of the Colonial Age, but that you failed your last assignment in Pollinators and Pests in Basic Agriculture.”

Korkie frowns. “Well, if you already know that, then why did you ask?”

“Korkie?” she says. Her voice turns inquisitive, and he hates the fragile note of hurt in the tone. He wishes now there were no hologram, and that he hadn’t called at all.

“Sorry, Belli,” he says, bowing his head, and picking at his fingers so that she can’t see the shame burn across his cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, all hurt transformed to concern, and that is almost worse.

“Nothing,” he says.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Is your father -”

“Master Kenobi is fine,” he says. “Why does everybody ask?”

His mother recoils. Her image flickers as her expression shifts, and she lifts a brow in suspicion.

“Master Kenobi?” she repeats. “Not Bebu? Not father? What’s wrong?”

He lets out a groan, knowing that he cannot hide any longer. “It’s Buituur week,” he says.

“And?”

“And, perhaps it is nothing to you, but you may have noticed we are not there!”

“I had noticed, cyar’ika,” she says, calm and soothing even in the face of his simmering upset. She speaks as though it is not the betrayal he knows it is. “Your father called me before you left Parvis to tell me you wouldn’t be back.”

“Oh.”

“Did he not warn you?” she asks.

“No,” he replies. “He did.” He is angry, but he cannot lie. He will not slander his father with falsehoods, but neither will he defend him. “But he promised. He said - every year we would always go home for Buituur. Always.”

“And you have,” she says. “This is the first year that hasn’t been possible.”

“So he lied.”

His mother is taking none of this. He turns away so that he cannot see her lips press into a frown, and her brows draw together in displeasure.

“He didn’t lie, Kiorkicek,” she says, with the dreaded use of his full name. His mother never uses his full name. His father never shortens it. “He didn’t know you would be stuck in weeks of negotiations.”

“Then he shouldn’t have accepted an assignment so far away!” he retorts, some of the heat in his cheeks moving to his stomach to stoke those banked fires of indignation.

“It is his duty,” the Duchess reminds him. “And yours. Or do you think yourself above your vows?”

He rolls his eyes, and flicks his braid. “No,” he says.

“Excuse me?” his mother asks, a warning in her tone.

“No, ma’am,” he replies, just as testily.

His mother tuts, and Korkie tightens his jaw, biting back his resentment. For a moment, there is a strained silence between them, like the elasti-band tension between two armies before the first shot is fired. But some of his father must have rubbed off on him, because Korkie relents first, the rigidity of his spine softening, and he wilts into loose limbed resignation.

“I’m just...disappointed,” he says. “I miss you.”

“Oh, my love,” Satine says. “I miss you, too. Always. But I will see you soon, yes? Your leave will just be a bit later this year.”

“But we’ll have missed the festival.”

“Do you miss me, or do you miss the festival?” his mother demands, with a playful lilt, intent now on jollying him out of his gloom.

“You, of course,” he says, tucking a reluctant smile away before she catches him at it.

“Then it doesn’t matter when I see you,” she says. “The festival is only meant to be a reminder: honour your parents, and celebrate them.”

“I know,” he says. “That’s what I wanted to do. Honour you.”

“You know, Korkie, you have two parents.”

He cocks his head, and looks up at her sharply. “Well, yes!” he says. “But I’m always with bebu.”

“So?”

“So I wanted this week to be about you.”

“But we have decided that is impossible,” she says. “So how else might you celebrate it?”

He finds his father slumped over a datapad in the tiny galley, a cup of tea at his elbow. Korkie touches it as he sits down across from Master Kenobi, and feels that the ceramplast has grown cold with time, the liquid in it only half drunk. Obi-Wan looks up, blinking away the blur of distraction at his arrival.

“Kiorkicek -”

“I just wanted to apologise,” Korkie says, not waiting for his father to speak. Perhaps that might be considered impolite, but he knows that he is in the wrong, and he doesn’t want his father to excuse him before he can express his regret. “I’m sorry that I blamed you for the delay in Parvis, and I’m sorry that I was so unkind to you. I know that you couldn’t have foreseen that we would miss Buituur Festival, and that it was unfair to accuse you of lying. I was disappointed, but that is no excuse for my behaviour, and I promise it won’t happen again.”

His father is nonplussed. “Well…” he says, slipping his hands into the folds of his cloak. “Well, thank you. And I apologise for being unable to -”

“- To command time?” Korkie cracks a smile. “It wasn’t your fault, bebu. Don’t apologise.”

“Bebu?” says Obi-Wan, eyes sparkling. “Now I know I am forgiven.”

Korkie leans over the table to bring his father close, and pulls his hand from out his sleeve. He holds it between his own, and draws it to his lips leaving a delicate, reverential kiss upon the knuckles.

“Always,” Korkie vows. “And just because we can’t be home for Buituur Week doesn’t mean we cannot celebrate it.”

“Oh?”

“Yes!” Korkie says. He releases his father’s hand, and leaps to his feet. “Now, I know that we are rather limited in our supplies, but I am not limited in my creativity, and I have a plan. Belli says that one of the most important traditions of Buituur is the Ijaat’ilor.”

“The honour meal.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I am certain that we might come up with something suitable enough, and arrange a holocall with your mother so that you might dine together -”

“No, not with belli, alor,” says Korkie. “With you.”

“Me?”

“Are you not also my buir?”

“I am,” says Obi-Wan.

“Then I would honour you,” says Korkie.

He shifts away to search the stores and cupboards, seeking something moderately edible, something that may be reconstituted into a feast fit to exalt his master suitably enough, but in the hollow, ascetic reserves of their tiny ship there is nothing to match his desire. He gathers what he can, combining this packet with that tin, and adding the few spices that he knows his father can tolerate. He is done in minutes, thanks to the dull efficiency of ready-pack meals, and he sets a steaming plate of instant noodles, and nutricubes before him. As a last minute touch, he boils a little more of their precious water reserves and steeps a fresh cup of tea for his father.

Then, he sits, and together they lift their grub-sticks to sample his work.

His father chews, swallows, and sips at his tea, wincing slightly at the heat. Korkie grimaces in distaste.

“Well,” says Obi-Wan. “At least it’s hot.”

Korkie shoves his plate away, his heart sinking down to his scuffed up boots.

“I’m sorry, bebu,” he says. “I did try.”

“I know you did, my one. It is not your fault. There is nothing to be salvaged from ration packs.”

“But I wanted to please you,” Korkie protests. “I wanted to show you how I admire you. I wanted to honour you for Buituur Week.”

Obi-Wan pushes his plate to join Korkie’s at the side, and stands. With a single step, he is around the edge of the table, and kneeling at his son’s feet. Korkie doesn’t resist when his father tugs him to the end of the bench, turning him to face him where he waits, and taking his hands in his.

“You always please me,” his father says. “You always honour me. Kiorkicek, I do not need Ijaat’ilor, I do not need Buituur Week. You honour me every day, just by being you, and it is my admiration I must express. I am so proud of you, my son. So proud. And I am honoured to be your father.”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, bebu,” Korkie says, throwing his arms around his father’s neck.

His father wraps his own around him in turn, and holds him close. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Kiorkicek Kryze. Always.”

#korkie kenobi #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #anakin skywalker #my fic #prompt fill #hereeeeee for the anon!#father's day #thank you! <3

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sevlgi · 4 years

Text

don’t want to see you

requested: yes

group: blackpink

pairing: jennie x fem!reader

genre: angst, questionable fluff

contents: fashion designer!au, rough breakup

warnings: none

synopsis: After your terrible breakup 4 years ago, you’re the last person Jennie wants to see at her dream job.

a/n: I accidentally did 4 years instead of two but eh... I’m glad you enjoy my writing!

word count: 2.4k

“This is it, huh?”

Jennie laughs as Jisoo wipes a fake tear away, pouting as she opened her arms for a hug. “Stop pretending to be sad, unnie, you know you’re glad to be rid of me.”

“Never!” the older girl protests, arms wrapping around Jennie. Under the cold winter sky, Jisoo is a source of familiarity and warmth that’s all too hard to let go of. “But I am glad you got this position. It’s been your dream for such a long time, and you gave up your first opportunity for… her.”

As soon as the mention of you slipped out of her mouth, Jisoo winces; she knows that over 4 years after your breakup, Jennie’s still not over you, not in the slightest. The younger girl forces a smile, hitching her designer bag up her shoulder a bit as she detaches herself from her friend. “Yeah. Thanks for sending me off, I’m off to be a successful adult now.”

“Rude!” Jisoo calls out, hands on her hips but a smile beaming across her face. She hopes that Jennie isn’t too affected by her words, and that nothing spoils the day her friend has been looking forward to for years. “I’ll have you know I’m a perfectly successful actress!” She continues waving until she’s just a tiny dot, her younger friend passing through the building’s gate.

Even the air smells fancy, Jennie notes as she steps through the revolving doors. She’s glad she wore an expensive outfit, no matter how cold the skirt is-- name brands are practically glued onto every person in the building. Filtered sunlight shines off of silk scarves and glimmers over fine dresses, heels clicking on the glossy marble floors. Various colognes and perfumes mix in the air, and Jennie inhales with a grin. This is her new life, the one that she’s wanted and worked for ever since she was a child.

The elevator ride up is lonely, of course, but she recognizes the frosted glass door she passes through to reach the office of the man who interviewed her for the position in the first place. “Ms. Kim,” Taehyung greets her, his voice deep and gentle. “Good to see you.”

“You too, Mr. Kim,” Jennie bows politely. Despite the fact that she’s only a year younger than him, he’s interestingly intimidating. “Ah, I thought you said my partner would greet me today?”

Taehyung nods, hands fidgeting with the Gucci blazer he wears. “Yes, we decided your new partner yesterday. Y/N’s just a bit busy, though, so she sent me to greet you first. Come with me to the elevator, your studio’s on another floor.”

Y/N. Jennie’s blood runs cold at your name even as she scurries to keep up with the man’s long legs, memories of screaming and slamming doors suddenly fading into her mind. She does her best to shake it off, though; it’s not like you’re the only person ever with that name. The world doesn’t revolve around her, never mind her shitty relationship from years before. “Oh. I see.”

Professional chatter about work fills the elevator ride; Taehyung’s already a senior at the company and a prodigy with fashion. Honestly, he could be a model as well as a designer, Jennie thinks as he smiles politely, opening her new office door for her. “Please.”

To no surprise, the studio is gorgeous, with floor-to-ceiling windows and sparkling modern furniture. Gorgeous swaths of fabric are displayed on benches all over the room, golden mannequins draped with clothing. Jennie doesn’t stop an exhilarated gasp from escaping her lips as she reaches to touch one of the designs splayed out on the table, and she also doesn’t stop the horrified one when she recognizes the signature on the paper.

Just in time, Taehyung’s deep voice sounds behind her. “Y/N, glad you could make it.”

Jennie turns quickly to face the doorway, and her heart leaps up into her throat as a far too familiar face greets her.

You look a hundred times better than the last time Jennie saw you, she has to admit that. The fancy outfit, probably something you made yourself by the looks of it, suits you perfectly, and your makeup is probably professionally done.

At the sight of her, your jaw drops, though you recover quick enough that your shared supervising officer doesn’t have a reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary. “Hi. Y/N Y/L/N,” you introduce yourself as you stick a hand out to shake. “You must be Jennie Kim.”

“That’s me,” she breathes, still a bit horrorstruck at the sight of you. It’s so difficult to pretend not to know you when Jennie still remembers every inch of you; she almost shudders when she remembers the way your skin felt under her fingertips. “You’re my new partner?”

“Yep,” you nod, biting down on your lip. Jennie remembers that habit of yours; it got annoying sometimes, when you tasted of blood. “I am.”

Taehyung smiles, “Y/N, I expect you to take care of Ms. Kim. I think the two of you will get on well. For now, I’ll leave the two of you to become acquainted, and Jennie, take all the time you need to become comfortable. Please, ask me if you need anything.”

As soon as the elevator door closes again, Jennie relaxes and you go rigid. Her eyes widen as she hisses, “What’re you doing here? Since when are you a fashion designer, Y/N?”

“Oh, good to see you too,” you scoff, turning away and plopping into your desk chair. To her annoyance, you’ve already occupied the side of the room with the better lighting. “I see you’re just as rude as when we broke up, Jennie Kim. No tact or professionalism at all; how did you even get hired?”

“For my talent,” Jennie scowls, crossing her arms defensively. “And you really expect a hello after that disaster? Remember when you got me evicted from my apartment, and we fought for days in a row?”

You sigh and pinch the area between your eyebrows. “I told you time and time again, that wasn’t my fault. It’s just like you to blame me for your own failures, no wonder I got your dream position years before you did.”

An incredulous gasp escapes Jennie’s lips as she tosses her bag down on her desk. From the start, it was an insecurity of hers that you were more accomplished, more successful than her, and she still never expected you to throw it back in her face. “Real mature, Y/N. Did you really usurp my position just to spite me? How childish.”

“I didn’t usurp anything, Jennie.” Standing suddenly, you’re eye-to-eye with Jennie, and she can smell the familiar perfume you’ve always worn. Your eyes are narrowed in anger, nose scrunching in anger. “I have my own dreams too, aside of you, but you’ve never seen that. You’ve always seen me as an object, without my own capability of thought.”

“That-- that’s not true.” She curses herself for stuttering, drawing her chin up. You’re barely inches away from her face, nails digging into your biceps with your arms crossed. “You know what, Y/N? I hoped you changed in these past 4 years, and I hoped that we could stay civil, but you obviously have remained just as much of an asshole as you always were.”

Rounding her desk and sitting down in her chair with a huff, Jennie pulls her computer closer to her. It’s just her luck to see the person she never wanted to see again on her so-called perfect day.

Weeks pass without you and Jennie holding a real, full conversation; to be honest, she knows that any single word out of your mouth would sound rude and conniving, even if you didn’t mean it that way. You fight over the stupidest things- did Jennie take your stapler? Did you take hers? What about that nice sweater you left in the office overnight?

Suffice to say, it’s nothing less than miserable.

Jennie finds solace in Joohyun, who was the one to recommend her for the job. The older woman knows plenty about the disastrous breakup years ago, and is a perfect source of good advice.

“Are you sure you’re not still harboring feelings for her?”

Okay, maybe not-so-good advice.

Spluttering, Jennie coughs on the sandwich she was eating for lunch, Joohyun’s gentle taps on her shoulder not really helping. A few other coworkers stare as they pass by in the cafeteria. “What?”

The other woman shrugs, delicately sipping at a cup of coffee. “You’re obviously not over her, and she you, if you’re still fighting over stupid things. If you didn’t like her anymore and simply hated her, you’d just ignore her existence.”

Jennie scowls, patting at her lips. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. We were miserable in our relationship, Joohyun unnie, and she broke my heart.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t still love her.” The brunette sounds sage, as wise as the demure blue silk blazer she wears. “You need to have a good talk with her, without shouting or arguing. Get your feelings out in the open, no matter what they may be.”

The younger girl pouts, chewing contemplatively. It’s highly unlikely that you’ll ever agree to a talk with her, as hostile as you are. Maybe Jennie’ll just have to survive like this, arguing with her partner.

She can survive anything for her dream job.

Jennie stares in shock at the huge pieces of fabric missing from every single one of the 5 dresses she was working on, skirts and bodices alike ripped to shreds. “What. In the hell?”

She slams her coffee down on one of the desks, not caring of the brown liquid splatters all over the papers that just happen to be yours. Her eyes sweep the room, narrowing in rage when she finds all of your projects completely untouched.

“Holy shit,” she hears behind her, and swirls to find you standing in the doorway, mouth agape in shock. “Um, that’s an… innovative design?”

Lunging forward, Jennie’s hands connect with your chest, pushing you into the wall. “Did you do it?” she shouts, barely noticing that you flinch when she raises her voice. “I thought you were better than this!”

“I…” You’re lost for words, seeing the sheer anger in your ex-girlfriend’s eyes. “I didn’t! I swear! You have to believe me, Jennie, I wouldn’t stoop so low.”

Her forearm slams into your chest again; you wince, not at the pain, but just at how evil of a person you must be in her eyes. “I don’t.” Her voice is flat and cold as she seethes, “I get it if you hate me, but don’t sabotage me like this. You know better than anyone how important this job is to me.”

She lets go, stumbling back a bit as she stares at her hands. Your sound raw when you ask, “Is that what kind of a person you think I am? Jennie, I may have hurt you, but I’m not evil.”

The other girl bites her lip; some part of her wants to apologize, and another part of her- damn. Maybe Joohyun was right after all. “I don’t care. Stay away from me, Y/N. It doesn’t matter if we’re partners, I don’t want to see your face.”

“Ms. Kim?”

Taehyung knocks on the open door of the studio, stepping inside. His eyes widen at the sight of the fabric shreds that Jennie sweeps into a dustpan. “Ah.”

“Please, call me Jennie.” The girl bows and attempts at a professional smile, though she’s sure that anger still twitches in her eyebrow. “What can I do for you, Mr. Kim?”

“Taehyung, then,” he says kindly. “Someone reported that your designs were destroyed? I came to take a look and evaluate what should be done. This is much more serious than I thought it would be.”

Jennie frowns; she doesn’t believe that it wasn’t you, but she also isn’t the kind of person to be so petty as to ruin your career. “Yes. I’m not sure who did it, and I’d like to know who.”

Holding a shred of fabric between his forefinger and thumb, Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “You don’t have any suspicions at all? Not… your partner, perhaps?”

“Why would you say that?” Jennie lowers her dustpan, schooling herself to look expressionless as she says, “Y/N is just my partner. I have no history with her whatsoever.”

Sighing, the tall man turns with his hands in her pockets. “Jennie, Y/N came clean as soon as Joohyun suggested you for the position. She told me that you two have… a past, and that she feels terrible about it. She requested you to become her new partner, actually.”

Silence falls between the two designers, Jennie stepping back as if to shield herself from information she doesn’t want to know. “What? You must be mistaken. If Y/N told you that she’s my ex, you must know that she hates me.”

Taehyung walks a bit closer, a soft smile on his face when. “Look, Jennie, I know her. She regrets hurting you, I promise, and she’d never want to sabotage you like this. You need to talk with her.”

His shoulder just barely brushes up against Jennie’s as he walks out, pausing at the door to reassure her, “We are reviewing security footage, though, and I promise we’ll have an answer for you soon.”

Once he’s gone, Jennie’s left alone, staring at the shredded remnants of her projects on her desk.

Can it really be that you don’t hate her?

Jennie stares at the bowing employee, Taehyung smiling cheerfully at his desk. You avoid her eyes, counting ceiling tiles where you sit. “This is him, Jennie. He sabotage you. Would you like to tell why?”

The employee looks almost scared as Jennie crosses her arms, eyes flicking to yours and Taehyung’s. “I… was jealous. I wanted to be Y/N’s new partner. I should’ve been the first choice, not someone random that a senior recommended!”

Even as he explains himself, Jennie can only find herself staring at you; when your eyes meet, Jennie’s struck by just how much she’s missed you in the past 4 years. A soft smile from you elicits a feeling she hasn’t known since you left her, a feeling other than heartbreak or anger.

Taehyung fires the employee on the spot, and Jennie feels like she’s in a daze the entire time. After being kicked out of the office so that Taehyung can work, she avoids meeting your eyes in the hallway. “So…”

“I hope you don’t still believe that it was me,” you interrupt, stepping a bit closer to Jennie. “I know I hurt you, Joohyun told me how heartbroken you were. I’ve changed since then, Jen.”

The nickname’s nostalgic, and Jennie is startled when she feels a tear pricking at her eye. “I… I know. I’m sorry for thinking it was you in the first place, I should’ve known.”

Your hand brushes under her chin, tilting Jennie’s face up so that she can meet your eyes. Your expression is soft, no longer guarded, and emotion pulls at the corner of your lips. “I don’t blame you. Breaking up with you was the worst decision of my life, Jen. If you’d let me, I’d like to make it right.”

“What, you want to be together again? It doesn’t work like that, Y/N.” The other girl wipes furiously at her eyes with her hand, not caring if her makeup smears. “You might regret it, but you really did hurt me.”

“Yeah. I did. And I’m not asking to be together again.” You inhale, the corners of your own eyes a little bit wet. “I’m asking for you to forgive me, with time. Give me a second chance, just let me become your friend again. That’s all I want.”

A second chance. Do you even deserve a second chance? Jennie wonders. After everything you did to her, do you deserve to be let in her heart again?

But as you search her eyes for an answer, suddenly so much older and wiser than she remembered you, Jennie knows.

Her hand reaches for yours, soft fingers curling around yours as she smiles, “I’ll try.”

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pips-fics · 3 years

Text

ask: hey! first of all i wanted to mention my favorite fics of yours, the one with hyunjin and felix. i love their dynamic and feel like they go really well together as a pair in a story. i also love the hyunjin and chan one because hyunjin is just so cute, he can fit into any sickfic plus, chan can be such a good caretaker and it warms my heart. could you possibly make either one where jeongin has the stomach flu or smthng and chan stays with him and is like the caretaker? if not that’s totally ok!

tw: vomiting

childlike; not a child –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

jeongin liked to think that he was fairly mature for his age.

he enjoyed spending time on his own, and he didn’t like to burden other people with his problems, which had made him more independent than a lot of his same-aged friends. jeongin knew how to handle himself in different situations because the kept a close eye on his hyungs, and he was good at following their example. most of all, he had built up a strong mental game after years of working in the entertainment industry. most people in the industry were pretty unshakeable, but especially those who started young and stuck with it.

getting sick, though, made him feel very small, and very helpless, and when his stomach started hurting in the early morning hours, he just wanted someone to hold him. in a half-daze, jeongin willed himself up, just long enough to seek out chan’s bed. he couldn’t even really explain why, but seeing chan there, sleeping peacefully, sent a wash of relief throughout his body, so jeongin didn’t think twice before crawling in next to his oldest hyung. his stomach still hurt, but at least he was able to fall back asleep.

——

chan had planned to sleep in until 10 am, and then get right back to the studio and continue his work, but he scrapped that train of thought as soon as he woke up.

it had been about two years since jeongin had slept with him. he used to, during their trainee days, when he missed home, or had a bad day, or when a nightmare woke him up, but since they debuted, jeongin had been more determined than ever to grow up quickly. according to jeongin, that meant no more sleeping with hyungs.

it didn’t take long for chan to figure out why an exception had suddenly been made. jeongin had the most obvious fever chan had ever seen: his cheeks were flushed, his forehead was burning and shining with sweat, and he was shaking from head to toe, hogging the blankets as if his life depended on it. chan sighed, and stroked the younger boy’s head until he woke up, bleary-eyed.

“hyung…” already, jeongin looked teary. it had been so long since chan had seen their youngest member express himself so openly, a certain amount of nostalgia trickled into the otherwise painful situation, and chan smiled slightly.

“hey, innie. how are you feeling?”

lip wobbling, jeongin sniffled. he spoke quietly. “i thought if i slept, it would go away, but i just feel worse, now. i don’t know what to do.”

chan felt his eyebrows draw together. “aw, innie. can i give you a hug?”

jeongin nodded. “please…”

without another moment of hesitation, chan pulled jeongin into his arms, rubbing his back and wishing he could do more. he could feel the younger boy nuzzle his face into his shoulder, and for a few minutes, they just sat like that. jeongin and chan both relaxed in a way they hadn’t in a long time. it was a reminder of safety that they’d both needed without realizing.

it ended far too quickly for either of their preferences, but jeongin eventually pulled away, shaking. “hyung, i think i’m going to throw up,” he admitted in a whisper. chan tried not to wince, and squeezed jeongin’s hand instead. as he stood, he guided the sick boy to follow. they made their way to the bathroom hand in hand.

“i think you must’ve picked up some kind of stomach bug,” chan said, hand to jeongin’s sweaty forehead. leaning over the toilet in what was possibly the most uncomfortable position he’d been in, jeongin nodded. he didn’t know when he was going to be sick, but he was confident that he would be, eventually, and felt that it was better to be safe than sorry - even if that meant holding his aching body up in a rigid and unnatural pose. a chill ran through him, and without thinking, jeongin leaned into chan’s warmth.

“do you want me to get you some blankets?” chan asked, thoughtful as always, but jeongin shook his head. he really just wanted chan to stay right where he was. not for the first time, he felt very childish, but the last thing jeongin wanted was to be alone.

despite the drawn out wait and the steady moral support, jeongin was caught off-guard by a sudden gut-wrenching cough. it was enough to turn his stomach and send some of its contents half up his throat, and the retch that immediately followed brought with it a waterfall of soup-like sick. he heard a quick intake of breath from chan, but couldn’t spare him a glance as more coughing, heaving, and vomiting ensued.

it was absolutely vile. not just the taste, but the texture of it, of having warm liquid spill out of him with chunks of his lunch uncontrollably, splattering back in his own face. it was the inability to stop it, the feeling like he couldn’t possibly get enough air, and like it might never end.

there was a moment when he thought it was over - when he needed it to be over, because his muscles couldn’t hold him up any longer, even with chan’s support - and jeongin allowed himself to lean back as he continued to cough. he was hardly coherent, but as his mouth started to water and his coughs became headier, he tried to follow chan’s guidance and lean back over the toilet. they weren’t quite fast enough, and a mouthful of mushy brown barf ended up on jeongin’s t-shirt.

“it’s alright,” chan said, feeling more helpless than ever. “you’re okay, innie.”

he wasn’t even sure if jeongin could hear him, but he wanted to make sure than jeongin knew he wasn’t alone. the next few rushes of throw up were, fortunately, the last ones, at least for the time being, and jeongin immediately reached for chan’s arms when he was finished.

“good boy,” chan said, helping jeongin out of his soiled shirt. jeongin blinked, teary eyed, and chan placed a hand on the younger man’s head, cradling it gently. “you did so well. do you feel better?”

jeongin nodded. “i’m just so tired, hyung, i know you just got up, but–” he cut himself off.

“how about you drink a bit of water, and then we can get back in bed?” chan offered hopefully. jeongin didn’t look entirely pleased, but he nodded. chan smiled.

the two of them went back to the bedroom together, and jeongin was able to keep the water down. it surprised him how quickly they became comfortable in the tiny bed together, but it felt right. despite the years that had passed, there was still a part of jeongin that was chan’s little-kid brother. it was more reassuring than he could have imagined to be reminded that chan still recognized and accepted that part of him, too.

——

a very quick reader survey (specific to this fic!) to make me smile and possibly send a free fic request that i may or may not actually use :D

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feel free to send more asks! / rules

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lilyharvord · 4 years

Note

I’m not sure whether you take prompts in general and if you would for the shades of magic but here we go just in case :) you know in a gathering of shadows when alucard barges into lila and kell, I’ve always thought he would give her shit about it but never knew what the conversation would be so that idk?your writing is also amazing and you’re so talented

AAAHAHHAHAHAHAHA Okay I’m so excited because you’re the first person to ask me to do a Shade of Magic Prompt???!!! I am totally open to doing prompts, my ask box is always open ((((: . (hella nervous cause this would be my first intro to the fandom, but I’m so here for this!!!!) *cracks knuckles* I did it. ((((:

Sometimes, Delilah Bard wanted to watch the world burn. It was nothing personal, never. But sometimes, it needed to burn. And right now, as she lost another round of Sanct to Alucard, it needed to go up like a tinder box.

“You’re cheating.” She grumbled, tossing her cards unceremoniously onto the pile. Her old captain smirked, the little white scar above his eye where his sapphire used to rest crinkling

“That is how one plays Sanct, Bard.” He laughed as he pulled the pile of loot towards him. Fingering a particularly nice precious stone that Lila had been loath to give up, he smirked. “I’ll play you in another round just to show you.”

“I’ve already emptied my pockets, and I don’t plan to lose anything else.” Lila pushed her chair back along the plush carpet of his rooms. Reaching for her half full glass of dark red liquid, she gazed out at the Isle, glowing faintly in the evening light.

Resting the rim of the glass against her lip, she tried to ignore the beauty of the view. She didn’t miss it like Kell did, but whenever they did return, she found herself having a hard time leaving it behind as the Nightspire pulled away from dock. While her mind had stopped chanting run whenever she felt that gentle tug she associated with staying put, she still refused to admit she wanted to remain in London. The sea was still her calling... and it didn’t hurt being captain of her own ship.

The past few months they had been away had been harder on Kell than ever before. It had been almost three years since Osaron, and yet that pain had never left him. He waved her concern away at every turn, but it didn’t stop her from asking around in markets and taverns. Subtle questions about magic and it’s loss. She blamed Holland, of course, he had been the one still drawing on their magic in the end. A little warning could have saved them the pain Kell dealt with now.

Her brow creased and her reflection in the polished glass mimicked it. The other Antari had long been quiet. Kell didn’t speak of him, and Lila didn’t exactly mind that. It still worried her though.

“Gold for your thoughts?”

“You have all my gold.” Lila forced a smirk, her short cropped hair shifting as she glanced over her shoulder.

“Very well,” Alucard sighed as he leaned back in his chair and took up his own glass of wine, “I’m thinking that if those two don’t hurry up I’m going to die of boredom in this very room.”

“How regrettable.” Lila bemoaned mockingly, before sipping at her drink. It was sweeter than any wine he had ever given her but just as rich, if not richer. Being a close confidant of the King certainly helped support her friend’s expensive tastes.

“It is regrettable, Bard. Because I’ll blame that royal pain-in-the-ass for it, and then who will keep you company on those long voyages?” His lips curled into a rapier sharp grin as he gazed at her over the rim of his glass.

Setting her glass back down on the table and standing over the captain turned noble turned consort, Lila frowned down at him. Her fingers danced to the knife strapped into her thigh, hidden beneath the lovely new coat she had bought today. It had even more pockets and straps for her to hang and hide knives, much to Kell’s chagrin when she showed him. Alucard didn’t appear the slightest bit swayed by her posturing though, in fact, his eyes burned with mischief at the sight of her reaction.

“I do not need constant companionship, unlike you.” She ran her fingertip along the rim of her glass, calling up a bead of wine that she flicked his direction. He barely swiped it out of the way before it could splatter on his pristine white shirt. it plopped onto the table, and Lila laughed at his offended expression before lifting the glass completely to down the last of that delicious, honey sweet wine.

“That’s not what I saw years ago.” Alucard’s grin returned in full force when she set the glass back onto the table, earning Lila’s full attention with those words. Her brow quirked in speculation, and she drummed her fingers on the table, awaiting a further explanation.

Searching her memories for what he could possibly be referring to, she settled on a faint one of a closet sized cabin. A rush of heat bloomed along her cheeks, and she pushed off the table. “You’re insufferable.”

Howling with laughter at Lila’s retreat, Alucard swept up the cards from their games and shuffled them once more. “Play me in another round of Sanct,” he said with a wink, “and if you win, I’ll pretend I never saw that little... interaction.”

“There was nothing to see.” Lila slammed her hands on the table, furious that he would pick something she was so obviously poor at. If he had chosen something else, perhaps like magic, or knife throwing, or even pickpocketing she would have agreed to the wager.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen that royal bastard so flushed and bothered. Looked like there was plenty either about to happen or had just happened.” Alucard bridged the cards to shuffle them, lifting his eyes to Lila’s mismatched ones for a heartbeat. That glossy black orb she had for a black eye winked in the light as she jeered at him for his comment.

“Nothing happened.” Lila reiterated as she picked up her glass to pour herself another one. Insufferable, he was so insufferable. Perhaps she should chuck him in the Isle, watch him paddle to the side and get out dripping wet. Then again, Rhy might thank her for that. On second thought, maybe she should bury him in the floor up to his waist, or perhaps open a door into a wind blown bluff and leave him there.

The whisper of cards skidding across the table filled the silence as Lila lifted her now full glass back to her lips and drank deeply. When she glanced over her shoulder, Alucard waved an inviting hand to the table. “Tell you what,” he said before leaning his elbows forward and smirking at her, “if you agree to play another hand with me, I’ll stop bothering you about it.”

It seemed a little too good to be true. Something like that was bound to keep Alucard entertained for years to come. He wouldn’t give leverage up so easily, unless he had gone soft during his time in the palace, which Lila very much doubted.

Slinking back to the table, she sat with a grunt in her chair and tapped the cards she had been dealt. “What do you get out of it?”

“Well,” picking up his cards, Alucard shrugged, “just because I stopped annoying you with it, doesn’t mean I won’t go after our lovely black eyed prince about it.”

Lila’s mouth opened to refute him, and tell him to leave Kell alone about the whole thing. He was like a skittish pony where topics like that were concerned. If Alucard brought it up... Christ help them all. She hesitated a moment though, a bright smile pull on her lips. Oh he would go as red as his hair if Alucard brought it up, and he’d stammer and stumble to try and defend himself, or her honor. Oh it might just be worth the entertainment.

Chuckling to herself, Lila lifted up the cards and grinned at the three saints in her hand. “If I win, I want that hat you have hanging over there.” She pointed the midnight blue one, with the peacock feather sticking out of it. It would complete her new ensemble, and as a captain it was only fitting that she have nice things like that.

Alucard frowned, and glanced warily in the direction of the hat. Chuckling to himself, he laid his cards face down again and reached for the lin in his pile. Tossing it to the center of the table, he winked, “if you lose, I bring that story up in front of the entire court.”

Lila reached into her pocket for the remaining two lin she had and pressed them to the table. With a wicked grin, she slid them into the pile and said, “very well.”

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tuttifuckinfruttifriday · 3 years

Text

@randomly-a-fan

Meeting (part 2!)

-purity

Part 1 here

Part 3

Pairing: Jason Voorheese x MJ, side of MJ x Oc

Warnings: gore, violence, some censored curse words, mature themes, characters death(not MJ), hormonal teens-, dark

Don’t hesitate to tell me any mistakes I did! Sorry if it’s not that good, I’m trying—

“W-what’s that?!” “C’mon!!” Two drunk teenagers were running through the woods, trying not to trip in their own feet. Obviously, they were being chased by none other than the killer that murdered the trespassers that trespassed on the propriety they were camping on with their friends: Camp Crystal Lake.

At the moment the male at the front was going to say something, they finally saw their campement. “GUYS!!-GUYS WAKE THE FXCK UP—!!!” He screamed as he ran towards a random cabin, seeing that it was the closest one. Tears streamed down his face when he heard his friend’s pained screaming behind him, the killer having obviously caught him. It was dead silence outside, which means that his chances to survive were really low. “PLEA—“ Before he could end his sentence, Jason threw the machete at him, hitting him right in the head and killing him instantly, blood spraying all over the ground around the campfire. His lifeless body fell to the ground as his shouts were cut, nobody aware of anything that happened as they all slept.

—

At the rise of the sun, everybody woke up hangover, except evidently Eric and MJ. They were the only ones who didn’t look like shit actually. But it was when everybody was eating that the trouble started... “Did anybody see Clara and Steve—?” “—And Jay and Anto?” MJ’s eyes went to the slowly panicking teens, suddenly realizing the growing tension and the dark aura that seems to be there. It was almost like she could feel eyes on her, all the hair on her body standing up. While everybody was trying to continue their small breaks fast at the picnic tables, she looked towards Eric, who strangely was looking towards the woods, a frown on his face. When he turned back, he only shook his head with a movement of his hand, saying that it was nothing. A little before they sat down, he thought having seen some movements from the border of the trees, probably a small animal, and yet he didn’t like it. Maybe it was paranoia, but he just felt like something was wrong, the feeling almost literally eating him from the inside... Like maggots.

Later, MJ and her friend went to their cabin, because the brunette wanted to take her sketchbook.

Only to realise it’s not there anymore. “W-where is it?!” Eric turned sharply around, a confused expression on his face as to ask her silently what she’s talking about. “M-...My sketchbook..” She finished, tears coming to her eyes. “We’ll find it, don’t worry..” At that, she looked at Eric and smiled gently, being really happy that she met him, but not knowing that it would probably be the last time she would have a peaceful moment with him...

When they gathered all their things with their swimming suits, all the teens went to the lake, wanting to take a swim. Eric had a shirt and his swim trunks, which was kind of strange since the others were almost naked, but MJ wasn’t one to complain, and it was his body after all. While the other women were wearing bikinis, she wore he favorite swimsuit, which she had for a long time: it had her favourite flowers on it and it was her favourite colours, the reason why she loves it.(kind of like that v but with (f/c) and (f/f)).

They didn’t go into the water at first, the two of them wanting to enjoy the scenery, eating some snacks they took with them and a pack of Reese(;)).. Everything was pretty normal, until they heard a scream coming from behind them—

“RUN—“ Everybody turned around and/or jumped before most of them screamed, a hot and sticky liquid splattering over them before the person that screamed fell into the water, red-smokey substance coming to the water’s surface. Everybody that was close enough started screaming, coming to the docks and running or swimming away from land. The air felt suffocating and was really dark, so Eric turned around slowly when he felt the gaze of a certain killer, his masked face hiding all his emotions and shadowing his eyes, making him look even darker.

(A little bit earlier)**

The undead man walked around the camp, wondering were the trespassers were, thinking that maybe they got back to were they came from, only to realize the van’s still there. His cold blood seemed to boil at the idea of the teens staying on his propriety, his fist tightening around the handle of his machete. With long strides, he walked towards the lake, telling himself that they were probably there or they had gone to the market a little bit away from the camp, only to stop as his feet kicked something, his eyes looking down. He was surprised when he saw a sketchbook, more precisely the book that brunette girl was carrying, a pencil a little bit away but he didn’t care as he took carefully the book in his hands, seeing to initials written on the front which said : M.J. With some little scribbles and flowers. If it was anybody he wouldn’t care, but since it was the more quiet and really pretty one, that he was clearly more interested in, he decided that he would take a peek, not really caring tho that he dirtied the cover and sheets. Turning the pages with surprise and curiosity, he turned until he found her most recent one, what looked like a forest with a cute little rabbit at the bottom. Strangely, this drawing made him think about his perception of the forest, how the animals made it look alive and lightened the scenery. Suddenly remembering why he was supposed to do, he shook his head and put the book inside of the pocket of his coat that’s inside it, not wanting to lose it with the outside ones. She was too pure for them... but the male that’s always with her needs to go before he does anything.

**(present)

The male put himself before his friend, glaring at the bloodied killer with his orange eyes, not caring if he killed him quicker with that. That’s when a small but audible gasp escaped MJ, her eyes catching sight of the familiar cover that she could see inside the killer’s coat. Before she could say or do anything tho, Eric bent down quickly and escaped the killer’s weapon, taking a paddle that’s on the ground. Okay, maybe it was stupid, but it was better than anything.

For some time, he esquives his swings, surprising him, but he still gets cut pretty bad evidently. When he finally falls to the ground, MJ decided to save herself, seeing the sad glance he gives her—

But as she starts to run, she feels something hard hitting her in the back of the head and falls to the ground, her face meeting the damp forest floor. The last things she sees through her blurry vision is the killer’s masked face, his head tilted to the side before she hears a scream and everything goes black.

When the police arrived, the only thing they saw was the van, with all the bodies inside except Eric’s and MJ’s.... But with a little searching, they finally found Eric bleeding out, his face and body cut everywhere.

The end.. or is it 👀-

#jasonvoorhees #jason voorheese #oc #original character #Eric Manson(Oc)#gore #randomly a fan

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writinginthedarkwood · 5 years

Text

Alien! Dabi x Reader. Smoke and Mirrors.

Okay okay, so TECHNICALLY. This is a part 2, from my last part to this series. If you aren’t completely caught up, I recommend at least reading Mirio’s part before this one. There’s some lore in here to answer questions I get!

Here is a link to my master list so you can get caught up---> Master List

Warnings: Quite a bit darker than usual, you all asked for it. Ovipositor kink, mention of death. Manipulation.

“Take a deep breath. It might hurt, but you can do it.”

I gripped my chest and coughed hard, a fowl tasting liquid splattered against the cold ground by my face. I gagged on the taste and coughed again. “Can you see yet?” The voice talking to me was sweet and soft, a gentle hand touched my head and I grabbed their wrist. I peeled my eyes open, I felt their other hand wipe something sticky off of my face. It’s blurry, but I can see a bit better now. “Listen I know you must feel like shit, but we have to hurry honey, can you stand up?” She hooked her arm underneath mine and pulled me up to my knees. “I- I can stand...”

My stomach turned and bile burned the back of my throat. “Don’t puke!” I looked up at the girls face. She’s small and blonde, her cheek is swollen like something recently slapped her, she’s wearing a jumpsuit that looks like it used to be white but was stained by something green. I looked down at my own body, I have the same outfit. “My name is Anna, we’re not safe here.”

The sound of footsteps echoed against metal not far from here. “We need to hide.” She took my hand and crouched down, I copied her movements, trying to make myself seem small. “What’s going on? Where am I?” She yanked me down to the ground, pulling me behind a pile of discarded machines. Each machine looked like some type of pod, leaking green slime. They stacked on top of each other, glass cracking and loose parts scattered around. She slammed a hand over my mouth and whispered in my ear. “Don’t scream, whatever you see-” Her breathing faltered as she hushed her voice even further. “Just don’t scream.”

“I don’t know why we didn’t grab more T’s, that should have been way harder than it was.” The man that walked into the room was hardly a man at all, it was a walking upright green lizard. He was completely covered in scales head to toe. “Yeah that was easy.” The other man looked relatively normal, but he has black mask covering his face. “No it wasn’t!” The same man contradicted himself. “Hey wait where did that one go? Her pod is empty!” The lizard man rushed to a container half filled with the green goo. “Oh shit, shit shit shit-” The masked man slammed his hand on a red button on the wall. The sound of an alarm blared, the lights in the ceiling flashed red. “He’s going to fucking kill us! Dabi didn’t want her to wake up until we got to Home-” The lizard man shouted over the terrible buzzing sound. “You don’t think I know that? Spread out!” The odd pair ran into the hall, a metal door slid out from the wall and slammed shut. “What was that thing?” I hissed out as soon as Anna took her hand off of my mouth. “They’re both aliens. We’re on a ship.” She looked over the top of the mechanical pile. “I think I found a way off of it, but I was scared to go alone.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “Do you remember getting abducted?” She took an elastic band off of her wrist and pulled my sticky hair off of my neck into a little bun. I still feel terribly groggy, I feel like I’ve been asleep for days.

I don’t remember much. I remember smelling the smoke of burning buildings and gun fire.

“I don’t remember anything. I’m from NYC...” Anna sounds American, but her voice has a bit of a southern draw. “I’m so glad you speak English...” She muttered a bit under her breath. “It wouldn’t matter, I’d just be happy to have someone with me. The label on your pod say’s your name is Y/N? Is that true?”

I nodded my head. “I think so...”

“You poor thing... you remind me of my best friend...” Anna’s jaw trembled for a minute and she flinched like something touched her. “I’d love to sit here and get to know you better, but we have to move.”

As sweet as she is, her eyes look far away. The shudder, the tremble, her side ways glances.

What have they been doing to this girl?

“There’s a smaller ship in the hanger, it has an auto pilot... it can take us back to Earth.” She smiled, it wasn’t a happy smile.

It was a desperate, terrible smile.

She stood up and felt around the wall for some type of button that could open the door. I stood on shaky legs and followed close behind, trying to help. The panel holding the red alarm button had only one other button. She pressed it repeatedly. Nothing happened.

“No no no please...” She slammed her fist against the button and choked on a sob. I grabbed her hand and pulled her away. She looked at me with a bit of fear, my touch making her jump. I pressed the red button at the same time as the smaller button. The door shot open, Anna giggled happily and clapped her hands. “You did it! I knew I was right to wake you up!” She grabbed my hand and pulled us into the hall.

It doesn’t seem like anyone is around.

“Do you know how to get to the escape ship?” I couldn’t whisper, the sound of the alarm is too loud. I spoke just short of yelling. Anna cocked her head to the side and put a finger on her chin. “Well, no, but I mean this place can’t be that big, right?”

I dragged my hand across the metal walls, we walked as close as we can to the sides of the hallway. Anna stopped us and peered around the corner. “I don’t think anyone is coming this way...”

“Hey Anna...” I tugged on her hand. “What do they want from us? I- I have to admit I’m scared...” Anna’s head whipped around to look at me, at first her face was filled with fear. Her contorted look of shock twisted, and she chuckled a bit, her eyes glazing over. Anna gripped her stomach and looked me dead in the eye. “They want to use us as baby incubators.” She laughed again. “That’s all the universe thinks we’re good for I guess! Baby fucking makers!” Her body was shaking. She lowered her voice and put her mouth next to my ear so I can hear her. “If they find us... Don’t let them touch you with their spit.” She grabbed my face to see if I understood. I nodded my head and nodded back.

Anna yanked my arm around the corner. “We need to keep moving.” She broke into more of a run than before. “Before the parasites find us!” She was frantic and making a lot of noise. “Anna stop! We need to think!”

I pulled her back just in time. A wall of blue fire erupted a few feet ahead, Anna fell back into my arms with another scream.

“Well well well, look who’s causing all of the trouble!” Anna tried to wiggle out of my arms, she screamed ‘no’ repeatedly and broke into panicked sobs. “Anna stop!” I held her tight and covered her head with my arms, holding her close to my shoulder. “If Shigaraki knew what you’ve been up to, well...” The man talking to us stepped closer, his silhouette becoming more complete in the lighting. At first, he looked like a normal person. A tall, lanky man with black hair that jutted out in every direction. He kept both hands in his pockets, and his face looked bored.

His body is heavily scarred, with only a few patches of skin that’s not damaged tissue.

“Well I think he would be a little hurt, don’t you? Why don’t you be a good female and run on back to your mate, this has nothing to do with you.” Anna wasn’t listening to his words. She sobbed into my shoulder, shaking her head no. “G-go away!” She screamed in my ear, but I know it’s not directed at me.

The man stepped closer with a slight smirk on his mouth. The light reflected off pieces of metal attached to his face. “Leave her alone!” I cradled her closer to me, shouting over the roar of the fire and her choking cries. “She’s not really what I’m concerned about...” He purred, his voice low and raspy as he closed the space between us. “I didn’t want us to meet this way, you must be so confused. Why don’t you come with me so we can have a talk?” I shook my head no and tried to move Anna so she was hiding behind me. She clutched desperately onto my clothes. “I know exactly what you want and I won’t do it...” I pushed the words out of my throat in a squeak. He put an arm against the wall, towering over me. “Aw doll face, I would never wanna do something that would hurt you.” His face is stoic and stern, not matching his tone of voice at all. “You have me so misunderstood.” He cleared his throat and smirked. He spit without even puckering his lips. Anna grabbed my face and pulled me out of the way, his stream of saliva smacking against her hand. She screeched as her skin sizzled and steamed. “Ah fuck, look what you did-” She slammed her burning hand into the side of his face, knocking him back off of us.

She shouted a terrible, guttural cry.

“Run!”

We sprinted away hand in hand, the smell of singed metal getting farther from us. Our bare feet slammed against the floor, it stings with every step. “We need a plan!” Anna heard me and nodded, she stopped so abruptly I almost ran past her. The wall slid half way open after she pressed her hand to touch screen panel. It creaked like a very old elevator door, and was even louder shutting behind us. “You need to hide.” She put both of her hands on my chest and shoved me towards the wall. “What about you?” I tried to fight her. “If Shigaraki finds me I can throw them off of your trail. You’ll be able to escape.” She swallowed hard, she was speaking much more calmly now. “I- I don’t understand I thought you wanted me to come with you...”

She smiled softly. “When I saw you asleep in that goo, my heart ached. I couldn’t let this happen to another innocent girl.” She wiped a strand of stray hair off of my cheek. “You reminded me of someone I knew before any of this, my best friend, my sister. If you make it back to Earth just watch out because...” She looked over her shoulder, someones coming. “There! The vent!”

“I don’t want to leave you! I’m still so confused!” I shook her shoulders. Anna ignored my pleas and shoved me further to the wall. An air duct cover hung loosely on the wall, the opening looked wide enough for me to crawl in. She lifted me just enough for me to be able to pull myself into the wall. I quickly oriented myself to face her again as she replaced the cover. I backed up to get further away from the metal, and laid completely still. Anna looked my direction with a smile before throwing herself to the ground, screaming . She rocked herself back and forth dramatically, crying out a name I’d never heard before. “Tomura!” She screamed, her throat catching her sob and sending out the name with a coarse terror. The door flung open and the frame was filled with a tall, lanky looking man. He touched the side of the door with a firm grip, the veins in his pale hands popping out as the metal underneath his touch began to suddenly turn to dust. He looked down at the ground through long hair, his eyes were piercing and a sick smirk spread across his face. Anna stopped crying and crawled over to the man, he bent his knees and squatted over her, guiding her chin to look up at him. “I hate fighting with you. Don’t you understand that I’m what you need to be happy? I would give you the entire universe if you would just...” His voice tightened, his tone shifting into something more unpleasant. “If you would just behave.” Anna threw her arms around him and cradled her head into his shoulder. She took a finger and traced over parts of his neck, small flaky patches of irritated skin. “I promise I’ll be good Tomura!” She squeezed him tighter. “I just missed having.. female friends. It’s so lonely when you’re busy.”

The man twirled her messy hair in his long spindly fingers. “You’ll learn to love this way of life, it’s not like it’s any better on Earth, Anna. We may all be an island of misfit toys! But...” He kissed her forehead. “We’re all a family.”

Anna gently lifted her head off of him and cracked a smile.

She laughed, softly at first and gradually grew until she was cackling with her arms gripping her stomach. The man just smiled at her. “You’re right Tomura! We are all a family!”

My heart started racing, something was wrong. Anna was supposed to be pretending to want to stay, right? I wormed myself backwards farther away from the vent and into the tight duct way. They can’t see me in here can they? My sight of what was happening blurred just a bit, now that I can’t peer through the grate. Another voice entered the room, and I felt just a bit warmer. Like something was breathing down my neck. A gnawing feeling of anxiety.

“I’m so glad you and your mate are living crazily ever after over here, but we still have a problem Shigaraki.” The condescending voice said. “She woke up my T. The whole ship is on alert and YOUR mate knows where she is.”

“Oh my Anna wouldn’t be hiding anything from me... she knows that keeping secrets is such a fun way to really make me mad.” Shigaraki hissed out the last few words. Anna giggled again. “I know where she is! Y/N, come out so we can be a family!” Anna’s voice was closer to the wall now. I froze, I see her fingers reach up and try to adjust the grate.

I panic and shuffle further backwards, my heart lurches into my stomach as I feel the metal under my legs disappear. I try to crane my neck and look over my shoulder and I can see that the vent drops off and shoots straight down.

I have two choices, be pulled out of this air duct and thrown into whatever mess is happening out there.

Or fall.

“Hey what are you doing? It’s okay Y/N don’t be scared!” Anna called out, her face was wet with tears but she was displaying a wide toothy smile. She stuck her dainty hand out and reached for me.

I’m tempted to take it. A million things are running through my head, but none of the thoughts are connecting.

I can hardly remember anything before waking up and seeing Anna. I remember feeling terrified, hungry, exhausted. Like I had been running from something for days, but it was always two steps behind me.

In the split second I take to think about all of this I reach my hand out gently, Anna’s finger tips just inches from mine.

A pair of turquoise eyes appeared behind her. His presence made Anna jump and pull her hand away out of the vent. I gasped, his stern face showing no emotion as he spoke. “Now what are you doing hiding in there?”

Earlier with the adrenaline pumping through me as we were running I hadn’t been able to stop and think clearly for a second.

I don’t remember much about myself, I think I like to play the guitar. I remember objects, and smells of food I like.

With his voice speaking to me again I remember one thing clearly, like the sound of a gong vibrating and rocking my head.

I remember him.

“You can’t hide forever Y/N!” The alien called out from the side walk. How did he know my name? I lifted the slab of drywall that blocked the entrance to the hole I’ve been living in and gently set it down after crawling inside. I tried to keep my footsteps silent, avoiding touching any rocks of stepping on shards of glass.

That’s when I smelled it, the smell of smoke. I looked through a crack in the bricks and saw him. He lifted a hand lazily and blue flames erupted from his arms and ignited the dust and fallen wood on the ground. They quickly spread to the debris of my apartment.

I’m not the only one squatting here. Other families have taken to the structure, some with small children. It’s not completely safe, but pieces of it still have a roof to protect us from the weather.

The flames spread quickly. I screamed, begging that the other survivors could hear me and run. Things were being swallowed within seconds, the few entry points quickly disappearing.

He locked eyes with me through the crack and grinned. “Nowhere to run to now, mouse. If only you’d have listened to me, maybe these pathetic humans would have lived.” He shouted and I closed my eyes, the smoke filling my lungs and making me suddenly very tired. When I hit the ground, I felt him. I felt him pull me into his arms, but after that.

Everything was dark.

“Y-you...” I whispered, barely able to speak.

The alien squinted his eyes a bit.

Before I let him speak, I pushed my hands against the metal vent, my palms squeaking as I propelled myself backwards.

My chin hit the metal and scratched me as I fell. My back scraped against the metal chute, tearing at the thin clothing I have on. I closed my eyes, certain I’d hit the ground soon, breaking my legs and possibly my spine. Hopefully it kills me right away so I don’t have to lay there and suffer.

The wind was knocked out of me when I hit something soft. I clawed at my chest for a second, gasping until I sucked in the air I desperately needed. I’ve landed in a discarded pile of.. laundry?

Smocks similar to the one I was wearing were piled high, I was swallowed by them, completely covering everything but my head. This room is poorly lit, a dim green light flickered over head, but other wise it’s completely dark. I desperately clawed at the clothing, pushing it off of me and crawling to the hard, damp tile. My whole body shook and I looked around.

There’s not much here, the ceiling is very tall and there are a lot of pieces of metal thrown about the room. Another vent pointing downwards like the one I just fell from was over a sharp looking pile of metal, lot’s of parts that would have impaled me if I fell just a few feet away.

I gathered my footing and stood on trembling knee’s. It’s cold, my skin is covered in goose bumps.

A strange pod, about the size of a large van sat in the middle of the room. It was rounded, and the door was open with a metal ramp sticking out of it.

Could that be the ship?

I stumbled to it, a hopeful smile plastered on my tired face.

It was easy to step inside, it felt a bit more roomy in here than it looked from the outside. I stood without my head touching the ceiling. With another step towards the dash, the room lit up, buttons and screens whirring and coming to life with the sound of a fan blowing. It looks complicated, a few symbols appear but I don’t recognize them as letters I’ve ever seen before. Panic starts to set in, I’m not even sure where to begin. What does any of this mean?

“Well, I’ll admit you’re pretty smart. I like that.”

I turned around to that deep voice. “But what is your plan now? Find a way to pilot back to Earth with no rations, and no idea how much oxygen this thing has in it?” He leaned against the wall and looked at me with almost a face of disinterest. “Putting aside the fact that we are an entire universe away from Earth right now...” He slowly blinked at me. “Why go back?” He asked with a slight smile. He paused, waiting for my response. I swallowed hard and thought about what I was going to say. “It’s... my home.” I whimpered out.

“Is it though? Earth is crumbling. Society has collapsed, the survivors are the people scummy enough to hurt others and take what they want without repercussion.” He stepped towards me, making my heart slam against my chest. he stepped past me and pressed a few buttons on the dash and a video appeared on the windshield. “This is where that girl you met is from, Anna.”

It was aerial footage, like it was being filmed from a drone, but the people below didn’t seem to notice they were being watched.

Men stood in the beds of trucks with large guns. They had them pointed at young men who had their hands on their head, kneeling down as crying girls were dragged by their arms into the vehicles. A man stood up and rushed for a screaming blonde child, she looked like she couldn’t have been older than 12. The men on trucks didn’t hesitate to shoot him down, his blood splattering on the clothes of the girl he tried to rescue.

She couldn’t even scream.

I covered my mouth in horror. “Wh- what are they doing to those girls?”

He sat down in a cushion chair, sitting back and relaxing a bit. He leaned his head on his elbow. “They’re collecting surviving women and auctioning them off for rations. They claim they’re trying to help repopulate the planet.” He smirked a bit. “They believe that they are the superior men, more masculine and deserve to pass on their genetics more than the men not willing to resort to violence. Anna was almost a victim to this.” He snapped his fingers and the footage shut off. “She’s much better off here.”

“How is what you’re doing here any different?” I spoke with a bit of confidence, my fear slowly being replaced with anger. “And what are we doing here?” He asked with a lift of his eyebrows.

“Anna told me, she said you plan to use us as incubators for your alien offspring.” I wasn’t yelling, his question threw me off. I answered like I was also asking a question back.

“I won’t lie, some of my actions go against what the society I come from deems as “normal” or “acceptable” but who’s to say that the King is always right?” He started, still leaning casually as he talked to me. “None of that has anything to do with you, baby doll. See I have something to offer you that you could never find back on that rock.” He tried to smile a sweet look, but his bright eyes flashed me a glimpse of something wicked. His line of intrigue caught me like a fish hook. I lowered my guard, just a bit. “And... and what is that?” I grabbed my arms, suddenly feeling self conscious about the way that I looked right now, battered and a bit dirty. “Unconditional love and happiness, for the rest of your life.”

I expected him to say that he had some type of alien knowledge, or money to offer me if I complied with his request. “See humans are often real superficial don’t you think? The way you look matters, how much money someone makes. Where they come from and how much value the community gives them. A lot of things get in your way, preventing you from having everything you want. But you baby, you are so, so lucky.” He stuck out his hand, reaching it towards me. Something inside of me told me to take it, I fought the urge for a minute. He smiled and leaned farther, taking my hand in his and holding it softly. I noticed pieces of metal stuck out of his arm in places, holding his skin together. His fingers had calluses on them, but the rest of his hand was soft. “You never have to worry about any of that, if you kiss me one time, you’ll never feel anything but happiness again. I can make all of your dreams come true.”

“Wait you love me?” I asked confused. He gently pulled on my hand, moving me into his lap in a smooth fluid movement. He brushed my hair away from my face and looked at me with that wolfish grin. Like he’s unable to smile without looking suspicious. My heart slammed against my chest. “When you were back on Earth, before the end of your world, what did you want to be baby? What was your wildest dream?”

I tried to think hard, only flashes of memories ran through my head, nothing solid. I remembered going to school, I can see my campus. It felt pleasant to remember the classroom, but it looks off. It looked young, big letters on the walls with small chairs and seats. I remember the smell of coffee and art supplies. “I think I wanted to be a teacher...” He moved his hand down my spine and settled on my lower back. “How sweet, we could use someone as smart as you here. We don’t get all the luxuries the Kingdom has to offer, we have to survive on our own. We could use someone as bright as you to help teach all the sweet children who will be running around soon.” He purred into my ear. “And I’ll give you the perfect family, my boss promised us land on the dwarf planet we’ll be staying on for awhile. I’ll build you a house and you can decorate it anyway you like.” He spoke right against my ear while rubbing small circles along my spine. Chills ran up my back and neck. Anna’s words rang through my head suddenly like a gong. It was like she change the minute that man kissed her forehead, her entire plan thrown out the window.

Don’t let them touch you with their spit.

He must have noticed my sudden change in demeanor. I tried to scramble and pull myself out of his lap, but he gripped my back and held my face in place with his other hand. “And here I thought we were getting somewhere...” He growled under his breath and smirked. My chest heaved as I started to hyperventilate. I squirmed, trying to shake him off. His firm grip barely had to adjust from my thrashing to still keep me firm in his lap. He stuck out his tongue, long strands of thick spit connected the roof of his mouth with his tongue. I winced, expecting it to burn me like his spit hurt Anna before. His slimy appendage dragged along my jawline and up my cheek. He playfully grabbed my ear lobe and bit down a little.

It didn’t hiss and burn, it was warm for just a second before my entire body heated up. The anxiety and fear I was feeling melted away, and I felt my shaky limbs calm and steady. “See isn’t that so much better?”

“Y-yes.” I gripped onto his shirt and pulled myself closer to him, resting my face on his scarred neck. “See? I wouldn’t lie to you. Let’s go back to my room so we can finish our talk...”

Six months later.

I sat a little cold by the glass window. It had a light green frost growing on the edges. It still surprises me that the “water” here has a fluorescent hue. The nature outside was quiet like it is on Earth winters, but small and strange creatures would walk by occasionally and take a look at our greenhouse, wondering how to get inside and steal some of our food. I’ve been documenting them and their behaviors, trying to soak up everything about this place before we move again.

We don’t stay places long. Dabi will disappear for awhile, often coming back exhausted and injured. He doesn’t talk about what he was up too, but the more time I spend here the more I realize that it’s probably better that I don’t know. The watch he gave me rang from the other room. I left my hot drink on the window sill and stepped into the kitchen. I clicked the button answering Anna’s call. Her face appeared in a hologram projected over the watch. “Hey Anna, how are you and the babies today?”

“They’re back! Tomura just called to tell me that they landed!” She said excitedly. “Oh! And the babies should be here any day now! I’m getting as big as a whale.” She smiled happily. “But I just called to tell you that they landed.” She trailed off for a minute. “I think I’m going to pack the bags. Tomura did not sound happy, I think we’re going to move again.” She said sort of quiet. “I thought he promised you would deliver here? You already made your nest.” It’s only been a few weeks, we’ve barely settled. Our food reserves are getting lower, we needed to grow more and gather more resources here. “I... I know. But Tomura always knows best. He’s the leader for a reason...” She said with a smile, but her confidence wavered in her voice. “Anna, I’m worried that what they’re doing is a lot worse than they are making it out to be...” I tread carefully, it’s been long enough sense we’ve seen our mates that Anna should have a bit more mental clarity. When Tomura is home, it’s like she has no thoughts of her own. “Don’t start this again. Tomura wouldn’t lie to us. He’s doing work for the greater good.”

“I’m just worried. If it’s so good why can’t we live on Home World? Why can’t they tell us anything?” I looked over my shoulder to make sure Dabi wasn’t standing behind me. “Stop it Y/N! You know they said Home World is dangerous. They’re working to free the citizens of Home World from the tyrant. They don’t tell us anything because it’s not our job to worry about it. WE are the good guys.”

“But Anna I found something in Dabi’s stuff, they’re killing-”

“STOP!” She yelled into the receiver. She choked on a cry. “I don’t want to hear it!” She sniffled. “If you know what’s good for you you’ll stop asking questions.” Her face disappeared and the watch was quiet, she hung up. I set down the watch and sighed in frustration. I grabbed another glass to make Dabi a hot drink for when he came home. I poured the liquid and held it for a second, just letting the steam reach my chin.

I turned around and dropped the cup to the ground, it’s metal so it hits the floor with a loud sound but doesn’t break. Dabi was standing against the doorway with a dark look on his face. “Oh hi honey. You’re back.” I said with a smile.

“Did I scare you?” He asked, glancing down at the spilled liquid.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” I reached for a cloth hanging on the wall and he grabbed my wrist. I flinched and he looked at me funny. “What has you so jumpy, love?” He pulled me into his arms and put a hand in my hair, running his fingers along my neck and scalp. “I missed you.” He said against my head. I said nothing for a moment. He smelled heavily of smoke. “I have a surprise for you.” He said, pulling himself away so he can look at my face. “What is it?”

“We’re taking a bit of a vacation.” He had his hands on my sides and rocked us a bit as we stood there. “A vacation?”

“Yeah we uh, have decided that some of our efforts are being wasted at the minute. We need time to recoup, ground ourselves and come back stronger.” He lead us to our pile of bedding and pulled us down so that I was laying on his chest. “So we’ll have time to bond more, I haven’t seen you in so long. We’ll have some time to start our little family.”

I stiffened a bit. We’ve had this conversation a lot, I’ve thought of every excuse in the book. I’ve gotten away without breeding because he’s been gone a lot. “You think it’s a good time to start having kids?” I asked quietly.

“Don’t you? I’ll be able to be here for the whole gestation. We have the next location of where we’re going to stay for awhile. It’s much warmer, you’ll love the wildlife.” He played with my hair, massaging the nape of my neck with his callused fingers. “I- I have a few questions...”

“What is it baby?” He crooned, leaning forward and kissing my face and neck. He was gentle, playfully trailing them across my skin, not leaving too many traces of his saliva. “Did you... I mean, are you killing the Kingdoms mates?”

Dabi snapped his head up and rolled me off of his chest. “Who said that to you? Who’s lying to my mate?” His eyes were wide, a vein popping out on his forehead as he growled. “N-nobody told me anything I found-”

He cut me off with a laugh. Gathering some composure with a chuckle. “So you’re going through my things?”

I said nothing. “We’re not doing anything that isn’t necessary. The Kingdom needs to fall.”

I sat myself up and tried to look brave. “So you are killing human women.” My lip trembled. I wanted to believe it wasn’t true, that he never meant to hurt anybody back on Earth, and he would never harm innocent women.

Women that already lost everything, that have nothing to do with these insane politics.

Women like me.

“I think you’ve been spending too much time alone, little mate.” He gently pushed my shoulders down onto the cozy pile of cloth. He crawled over top of me, his hips pressing down on mine, pinning me to the bed. “You’re getting paranoid out here all by yourself, I’ve been treating you bad. My poor baby...” My breath caught in my chest, he ran his hands up my shirt and traced along my side. “Do you think I would ever lie to my precious angel? My most treasured possession?” He planted a sticky kiss on my neck, his spit sinking into my skin and sending signals to my brain. My fear started to fade, my anxiety relaxing. He grabbed my chin, parting my mouth and forcing me to look up at him. He kissed me hard, jamming his tongue into my mouth and swirling it around. I mewled a bit into his mouth, letting out a slight cry as my body reacted to him. My blood rushed to my lower half, setting me on fire. I bucked my hips to press harder against his and he smiled into my mouth before pulling away. “There she is, there’s my good girl.” He whispered to me with his wolfish grin. “I would be the lucky guy to get such a smart little mate, but still so obedient.” He smirked before leaning down and biting down hard on my neck. I whimpered and grabbed onto his shoulders.

Dabi leaned on his hands behind his head and relaxed, watching me bounce and squirm. I reached to cover my face, lightly embarrassed by his gaze. I moved up and down on his cock, feeling kind of awkward as I get used to moving my body this way. He quickly snatched my hands away from my blushing face. He clicked his tongue. “Ah ah ah baby girl, I like watching you.” He grabbed my hips, digging his fingers into my skin and pushing me down harder on top of him. I moaned and placed my hands on his chest to stabilize myself. “You’re not getting tired are you? This is only round two.” His tone lightly mocking me.

“I- I’m not used to this...” I whined and rolled his eyes. “Fine you want me to drill you again? Your wish is my command.” He held me in place as he bucked his hips up, slamming his hips into mine with little strain on his face. “D-dabi!” I screamed, his pace so fast I can barely have time to moan. I felt his body shift, his member start to open inside of me. He shoved me onto my back and slowed down his strokes drawing himself out almost all of the way before pounding back into me with a hard thrust. I grabbed onto his shoulders, prepping myself for him to finish. He stopped and held himself deep inside of me, the first egg leaving his body and hitting my cervix. My climax shivered down my spine and my gasp stuck in my chest. He stared down at me with his signature cold gaze with a light grin. “You love getting fucked, you pretend like you don’t want it but then look at that face-” He let out a small grunt, holding most of it back as he deposited another egg in me. My whole body shook and I gasped again. “Drooling all over the place. You’re such a slut.”

He pulled out and kissed my forehead. “You feel a little better now that I’ve fucked the attitude out of you?” I laid flat on my back and tried to catch my breath, my face flushed and my body tired. He grabbed his shirt off of the floor and tossed it to me for me to put on. He stretched out his arms, showing off his toned muscles. “I’ll just go ahead and take that as a yes.”

My brain swam with nothing but thoughts of having a sweet little family with him. I pictured what our children will look like and smiled. I’ll make a good mother...

For just a second, a thought crossed my mind, a distant one. I could barely see it behind the cloud of euphoria.

The thought of people screaming as smoke filled their mouths.

This took me so long to write, it’s been requested from the beginning but I had a plan! I hope you like it. Inbox me and tell me what you think!

#inthewoods bnha alien au #dabi x reader #bnha yandere #yandere dabi #bnha monster boy #bnha alien #alien dabi #yandere dabi x reader #ovipositor kink #ovipositor #bnha fanfiction #bnha fic #bnha horror fic #dabi #my hero villain au #fluffy bnha au

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

I Wish You Were Sober (Crygi) - Mumu

A/N: Had to write something for my favorite quarantine bop! It’s also on AO3.

Summary: Gigi just wishes Crystal would kiss her- even when she’s sober.

Gigi clenches her jaw, tightening her grip on the red solo cup in her left hand. The red plastic crushes in on itself with a loud crunch, a split opening and leaking beer all over her.

“Shit!” Gigi drops the cup as fast as she can. The liquid splatters onto the carpet, pooling around her feet.

Gigi takes a few steps to the left, trying to act as inconspicuous as possible. Nicky, the hostess of this particular bash, isn’t even paying attention, and Gigi sends up a silent prayer for that small mercy.

Thank god everybody’s too occupied with grinding on each other as a sad excuse for dancing, or playing beer pong, or smoking joints in the kitchen to have noticed her spill.

Speaking of smoking joints, Crystal’s currently doing just that, blowing smoke out of her cherry red lips and flirting blatantly with the quarterback.

Crystal tilts her head back and laughs throatily, batting her lashes at the football player. She tosses a handful of crimped hair over her shoulder, tugging at the neckline of her dress to show more skin. The sight makes Gigi bite down on her tongue, another flash of anger shooting through her.

The cycle is always the same.

Gigi shows up to a party she doesn’t want to be at, Crystal in tow. Crystal makes a beeline for the drinks and the weed, hanging around the football team for the entire night. She usually ends up dancing on the quarterback, an obnoxious dick that’ll peak in high school.

Gigi always watches her flirt from the corner of the room. She’s left alone to glare at the back of Crystal’s platinum blonde head, watching while the other girl gets progressively more and more clingy with people that aren’t her.

Afterwards, when Crystal is ready to leave, Gigi will drive her home, and Crystal will kiss her in the car, pressed uncomfortably against the window, or wedged between the door and the driver’s seat. She’ll climb into Gigi’s lap, fingers tangled in her hair, and tell her she’s pretty.

And Gigi will go along with it, letting Crystal make her little drunken declarations of love, because what else can she do?

She likes Crystal, so, so much. Hearing Crystal say it back just for a moment gives her a rush of joy so intense it almost makes the next few days worth it. Crystal never admits it in daylight, when she’s sober. But Gigi will take anything she can get.

And so, Gigi keeps torturing herself by watching Crystal throw herself at unknown boys throughout the night, because the promise of those lips on her own is too addictive to quit. Even if they taste like tobacco and cheap alcohol every time.

Crystal trades a drink with a boy Gigi recognizes from her Chemistry class. Crystal probably doesn’t even know the guy, but that doesn’t stop her from thanking him with a sloppy kiss.

Gigi gnaws at her lip, aware that she should probably look away, but not being able to. Her hands tug at the flaps of her leather jacket, twisting the material up. Crystal leans in, draping her hands over the boy’s neck. Gigi swallows thickly.

She suddenly regrets spilling her drink on the ground, because knocking back lukewarm beer sounds like a perfect coping mechanism right now. Crystal turns, pressing her back into his chest, and suddenly the music is too loud. The party is swimming in her vision in all its sweaty, grimy glory. She needs air. Now.

It takes every ounce of strength and self-control that Gigi has to walk to Nicky’s bathroom at a reasonable pace when every fibre of her being is screaming at her to sprint there.

She slumps against the door as soon as it shuts, sliding down towards the floor. Something bitter and mean swells in her throat.

Gigi squeezes her eyes closed, counts to ten over and over until she’s sure her emotions aren’t bubbling right under boiling. It’s the last party of the school year, and Gigi’s alone in the bathroom having a meltdown.

If Nicky saw her like this she’d probably call Gigi a loser: and she’d be right. Gigi’s fucked.

Her eyes drift towards the window, a furrow in her brow. She almost laughs at the absurdity of the idea that pops into her brain. Can she crawl out of it?

The last time she tried was when she was twelve, back when Nicky would sneak her in every Friday for the sleepovers the girl used to host. Gigi’s mom never liked the idea of her going to a sleepover so they’d used the bathroom window to get Gigi in without waking up Nicky’s parents. When Jackie moved to the neighborhood in seventh grade, they’d done the same for her. The girls had fit through the small space easily back then.

The idea seems more and more appealing the longer she stays alone in this bathroom. She considers, running her tongue over her teeth. It might be a tight squeeze, but Gigi can probably do it.

She tiptoes over, cranking it open experimentally. It gets stuck at around three inches, so Gigi pushes even harder, straining until it finally opens fully. There’s a fine layer of dust settled around the windowsill, and Gigi wipes it off with a square of toilet paper. Other than that, it’s the same as she remembers.

She’s going to do this. Gigi hoists herself up, trying to shimmy her shoulders through the small square. Her jacket restricts her movements, though, and she can’t quite wedge her arms through properly. She lands back onto the bathroom floor with a thump, knocking her elbow against the wall in the fall.

“Fuck,” Gigi groans, rubbing the sore spot. A bruise will probably show up tomorrow morning, judging from how hard she banged it.

Okay. New approach.

This time she throws her jacket out the window first, before trying to fit her body sideways through the window.

It works, sort of, and Gigi’s left with her head out the window and her left arm pressed to the outside wall. Her hips get lodged, and Gigi tries to twist her body so that she can wiggle loose. It’s painful, the wall digging into her thighs, but she eventually manages to topple into Nicky’s front lawn, right on top of her jacket.

Gigi flops onto her back, breathing hard. The night air is sharp. She gulps it in, trying to recover from what just happened.

The bass is still pounding through the neighborhood, leaking through the walls of Nicky’s house, but it’s quieter out here at least, and Gigi can finally hear herself think. It’s so peaceful compared to inside the party that Gigi feels herself getting a tad bit sleepy.

Her text tone brings her out of the daze. Gigi fishes her phone out of her jacket pocket, the screen lighting up to show two unread messages.

Methhead:

geeg where r u.

do u wanna leave now?

A groan passes Gigi’s lips. Great. Just when she’s beginning to think clearly, Crystal has to come and muddle it up again. She pinches her phone lazily between her thumb and index finger, letting it dangle upside down, above her chest, with the screen right in front of her face.

She could just not respond. But Gigi can’t do that to Crystal. How would she even get home without Gigi giving her a ride? So she picks her phone right-side-up again, preparing to text back.

“Gigi?” Crystal’s voice rings out.

Gigi scrambles to her feet in the general direction of the voice, brushing dirt off of her jeans. Her phone slips out of her hand in her haste, hitting the ground.

“Hey, uh, over here!” Gigi calls, grabbing her phone off the ground.

Crystal turns, trying to locate where Gigi is. She brightens when she spots the redhead, rushing over.

“Hi baby,” Crystal laughs. “You look so pretty.”

Gigi feels a thrill up her spine at the pet name. Crystal links their hands and raises them over her head, motioning like she wants Gigi to give a spin for her.

Gigi turns obediently, an awkward smile on her face, trying to swallow her heartbeat as it climbs into her throat. Crystal smells like pine trees and cheap alcohol. Gigi wants to kiss her.

“Why’d you run off on me?” Crystal practically falls into Gigi’s arms as she comes to a stop, looping her hands around Gigi’s waist.

The action draws Crystal in close, their noses practically brushing. The white around Crystal’s blue eyes has gone red from the weed, and when she huffs a breath out Gigi can smell the earthy scent of it on her tongue. Gigi can hardly breathe, her head buzzing at Crystal’s closeness.

“Uh-”

“I had fun! Did you have fun?” Crystal asks, all cheerful. Gigi bites at her bottom lip, avoiding eye contact. It seems too invasive. She scuffs the bottom of her heels into the dirt instead, relishing in the sound of the mud as it splatters onto the straps of her high heels. “Nicky’s parties are the best.”

“Yeah.” Gigi grits her teeth, forcing a smile. Her voice quavers a bit, and she winces, praying Crystal doesn’t notice.

Lucky for her, Crystal’s oblivious to her feelings, per usual. “It was great, right? Did you see me kissing Damien? He tasted, like, gross. I wanna kiss you instead.”

Gigi stares, spluttering out an incredulous laugh. Crystal has to be kidding. “That usually work for you?”

“Uh, yes?” Crystal tilts her head, doing an impression of a confused puppy.

Gigi would find it cute, if not for the fact that she’s increasingly feeling like throwing herself off of a cliff, or maybe punching Crystal in the face. Crystal can’t possibly think that everything’s peachy.

The highlighter that Crystal applied to her collarbones earlier in the night glistens under the moonlight, and Gigi has to close her eyes to avoid tracing the metallic glow with a finger.

“Hello?” Crystal prompts, untangling herself from the other girl. “I asked for a kiss.”

“Right,” Gigi mutters. She runs her tongue along her teeth, trying to find some way to explain why that isn’t a good idea.

But Crystal is leaning closer, and the pull between them is intoxicating. Her fingertips slide up Gigi’s neck and tangle in Gigi’s glossy auburn curls, and before Gigi can come up with an excuse Crystal’s lips are on hers.

Gigi would be lying if she said it wasn’t thrilling. They fit together perfectly, with practiced ease. Crystal knows how to tug on Gigi’s hair just right so that Gigi clutches at her, and knows that when she bites down on Gigi’s bottom lip it’ll make her chest heave and her breaths come heavier.

It’s cruel how good Crystal can play her. Crystal tastes… like Crystal, woodsy and peppery and warm. It’s pathetic how used to it Gigi is by now, how she could pick out Crystal from a crowd of people if she had to, just by the taste of her and the feeling of her and how she’s buried herself deep into Gigi’s bones.

When Crystal pulls away it leaves emptier than she’d like to admit, and there’s anxiety spiking in her gut at the feeling. Gigi’s going to cry tonight, can feel it in her bones the same way she knows a fake Birkin from a real one with one glance.

Gigi’s eyes stray to the girl’s face. Crystal’s lip gloss has been smeared onto her chin and her bangs are wild. Her appearance makes Gigi’s blood throb with something hot and filthy, and Gigi feels the breath get knocked out of her at the feeling.

“Let’s go.” Gigi snaps, and whirls on her heel. She doesn’t bother checking to see if Crystal’s following her.

The ride is awkward, to say the least.

Gigi has to dig her acrylics into the steering wheel to focus. Crystal’s smacking her gum in the passenger seat, trying to get rid of the smell on her breath so that her mom doesn’t notice when she gets home. Gigi tries to tune it out, but the sound is grating and she can still hear it with the volume of the radio turned up to an 18.

When Crystal blows a pink bubble with her gum and pops it loudly for the third time, Gigi pulls over, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Can you not?” She doesn’t mean to sound so bitchy, but Crystal’s been getting on her nerves all night and Gigi’s never been a patient person.

“Sorry.” Crystal flushes, fiddling with her hands. She sounds genuinely apologetic, even with the high lacing her voice.

Gigi sneaks a glance at the other girl’s face and immediately wishes she didn’t. Crystal has made herself small, curling her knees up to her chest. She looks childish, face illuminated by the glow of a streetlight shining through the window, and Gigi feels a wave of guilt.

“Fuck, no, sorry.” She eyes Crystal’s folded up form, and sighs. “Here.”

Gigi shoves a hand in front of Crystal’s face. Crystal just blinks at it, confused. “Huh?”

“Spit,” Gigi says shortly.

“Oh.” Crystal hesitates.

“C’mon, I don’t have all night. And I don’t want to listen to you chewing the whole ride.” Gigi glares until Crystal follows the instructions. She flings the chewed-up blob out the open window with more force than necessary. It lodges into a crack in the sidewalk next to a bottle cap.

“Litterbug,” Crystal says under her breath. Gigi ignores it.

Gigi flexes her fingers against the rubber cover on her steering wheel, the bright yellow staring back at her mockingly.

It doesn’t seem right to start driving again, when the air between her and Crystal has stretched so thin and yet still manages to hang so heavy. She bites her tongue to prevent herself from blurting out an apology in an attempt to dispel the awkwardness. She has nothing to apologize for.

“Um,” Crystal says. “Are we just going to sit here, or are you gonna to drive me home?”

Gigi takes a sharp breath in, like she’s going to say something. The words get lodged in her throat, right under her soft palate. She cranks the car window up again to seal the night air out. The car engine is still humming softly, the only sound breaking up the tension in the air.

“Right, yeah.” She manages finally. Crystal quirks a brow, but Gigi doesn’t bother explaining herself.

Instead, she hovers a heel over the gas pedal, biting at her lip. The unsaid words clump under her tongue, bouncing around in her head.

“Are you mad at me?”

Gigi jerks her head towards the passenger seat where Crystal is sitting, bumping her head on the headrest in the process.

“Ow. Fuck.”

“Are you?” Crystal asks again. She looks nervous, pouting slightly. Crystal reaches a hand out like she wants to touch Gigi, but pulls it back before she can close the gap. Gigi’s heart skips a beat at the action.

“No,” Gigi lies, turning back to face the front.

“O-kay.” Crystal says, pulling the word into two syllables. A beat. “Are you sure?”

“No,” Gigi says.

“Okay,” Crystal repeats.

Outside, somebody’s car alarm goes off and she jumps, startled. Gigi shifts, fiddling with the zipper on her jacket. Neither one of the girls speaks, the blaring siren filling the silence.

“Do you-” Crystal starts. Gigi winces at the sound of Crystal’s voice cutting through her head. “What did I do?”

Gigi makes a sound low in her throat, strangled. It kind of sounds like a laugh, warped up and bitter. “Have you seen yourself?”

“What?” Crystal says. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gigi just shakes her head, not answering. She turns the radio up, shifting the gear out of park. The car starts onto the road home again.

The drive is smooth, but she still feels like throwing up. Crystal is sneaking glances at her when she thinks Gigi isn’t looking. Gigi tries not to look.

She parks the car outside of Crystal’s house and turns the keys to turn the engine off.

“Geeg, don’t,” Crystal heaves a shaky sigh in and out. “Don’t shut me out.”

“Please stop.” Gigi’s tone is clipped, her sentence punctuated by the slam of her closing the car door.

“Gigi, I can’t read your mind! I don’t know what’s wrong,” Crystal’s voice gets louder, and she moves to block Gigi’s way when Gigi tries to sidestep around her to get to her porch.

“That’s exactly the fucking point,” Gigi huffs.

“You’re being unreasonable.”

Gigi’s already resigned herself to giving Crystal vague answers until she gets bored and leaves her alone. But when Crystal spits the statement, her pride boils over, because how dare Crystal say that?

How dare she act naive and unaware when she practically throws herself at Gigi every time alcohol enters her system? What’s Gigi supposed to do, not catch feelings? Especially when Crystal looks like that, all olive skin and red lips and gorgeous bone structure.

And Crystal just acts like everything’s perfectly fine the next day, every time. She always leaves Gigi thinking of the feeling of Crystal’s lips pressed against Gigi’s, or her weight on Gigi’s lap, or her hands knotted into Gigi’s hair.

It’s not fair. It’s never fair with them two, and that’s the problem. Gigi’s in love with her. Crystal couldn’t care less.

Gigi doesn’t realize she’s talking out loud until she stops to take a breath. She freezes, panic swirling up from her bones.

Her head gets dizzier and dizzier the longer Crystal stays silent.

“Crys-” She starts. Crystal cuts her off.

“How long?” Crystal whispers. It’s still too loud in the silence that blankets them.

When Gigi doesn’t respond, Crystal repeats herself, voice a little more frantic this time.

“Gigi, I need to know.” Crystal takes a sharp breath in. “How long have you liked me?”

Gigi swallows. Prays for the ground to swallow her up. But Crystal’s gaze is unwavering, and she has nowhere to run.

“Since the eighth grade,” Gigi admits. Crystal makes some kind of shocked noise, but Gigi plows on anyway. If she stops, she might never get the courage to say this again.

“You- you gave yourself a mullet in the school bathroom during Biology, remember? That was the first time I’d ever skipped a class. You were so confident about it. And I was-” Gigi interrupts herself with a bitter laugh. “-I knew that was it. I was so fucking gone.”

“Oh,” Crystal says. She blinks. “Oh.”

This is… Not how Gigi dreamed this would go, to say the least.

On the rare nights she stayed up at 2am listening to love songs and allowed herself to dream of maybe someday telling Crystal she liked her, “oh” was not what she imagined Crystal saying back. And Gigi isn’t a dreamer. She prides herself on thinking logically through her problems. She trusts her head more than her heart, and it’s no wonder, given the shit her heart has put her through.

So she isn’t expecting an elaborate profession of love, or a monologue out of Romeo and Juliet. Just something with a little more substance. Fuck, even Crystal freaking out and not wanting to ever talk to Gigi again would be better than “oh.” She just needs something.

“Crystal, I’m sorry, I-” Gigi says. She trails off when Crystal shows no sign of hearing her. Gigi pulls her jacket tighter around herself. “You should go in, it’s cold.”

Crystal doesn’t move. Gigi can’t quite make out Crystal’s features in the evening light. Her face has blended into shapes and shadows, blurring at the edges.

“Are you crying?” Crystal asks.

Oh. So that’s why everything’s gone fuzzy.

“No,” Gigi sniffles. She forces a strained smile, just barely managing to lift the corners of her mouth. Her throat feels swollen, and it hurts when she speaks. “I’m fine. Fuck, sorry. I don’t know why I said all that.”

“Gigi,” Crystal says. Her voice is gentle, like she’s talking to a toddler. “Do you regret saying it?”

This is it. Crystal is giving Gigi a chance to take back a shred of dignity, to salvage whatever is left of their friendship.

“I- no, I don’t,” Gigi says, and that chance is gone. She shoves her hands into her jacket pockets to hide the shaking, balling them into fists. The inner lining bunches up under her grip.

“Okay,” Crystal says. She shakes her head lightly, like she’s trying to clear it. “Okay then.”

Gigi kicks the grass underneath her feet. The lawn is wet, dewdrops wetting her ankles. There’s dirt between her toes and clinging to the bottom of her foot.

There’s a ping, and Crystal fishes her phone out of her pocket. The blue light of the screen lights up her face and she squints at it.

“My mom’s asking where I am,” She reports. “I should- uh, I should go in.”

“Right.” Gigi clears her throat to give herself something to do. “Yeah. Okay. Night, Crystal.”

“G’night,” Crystal echoes. She doesn’t move.

Gigi feels a fresh wave of tears burning against her eyelids. She tenses her tongue, pressing it against the roof of her mouth with surprising strength in a bid to keep them back. When that doesn’t work, she takes off.

Gigi turns, walking as fast as she can down the block, away from Crystal, until she’s full on running, fishing her car keys out of her pocket with shaking hands. Her blood is pounding in her ears, and she can’t see straight.

Everything looks like it’s being viewed through a fish-eye lens, all disfigured. She feels for the door handle blindly and wrenches it open, clumsily getting in.

There. Now she’s alone. Crystal can’t see her anymore.

Gigi grinds the heels of her palms into her eyes, struggling to catch her breath. Bile rises in her throat, and she gasps for air, trying to blink clarity into her vision. Gigi coughs, hands flailing randomly around for something to grip onto. Her elbow hits the horn and the sound just makes her head even dizzier, the ringing in her ears chaotic.

Fuck. Why did she have to go and admit her feelings to Crystal? Gigi should have just kept her mouth shut like she always did before. The tears are still coming hot and fast, and the stickiness on her cheeks just makes her even angrier. God, she’s pathetic.

A rapping on the window breaks up her pity party.

Gigi raises bleary eyes to the sound. To her horror, it’s Crystal on the other side of the glass, motioning impatiently for Gigi to roll down the window. Gigi sucks an unsteady breath in. It’s staccato and comes in short bursts, like she’s just run a mile. Panic claws at her insides, and Gigi sputters out a hysteric giggle.

She opens the window, fingers shaking against the button.

Gigi wants to spit out an excuse, explain away why she hasn’t driven away and is instead sitting in her car bawling her eyes out like some kind of loser, but she can barely catch her breath, much less form words in this state.

“Gigi, are you- are you okay?” Crystal asks anxiously. “You uh, you ran off before I could say anything else.”

Gigi makes some kind of miserable noise. Her finger is still on the button to roll down the window, even though it’s already all the way lowered, and her car beeps in protest.

“Look, I-” Crystal starts. She seems to do some kind of calculation, before blurting out the rest of the sentence. “I’m really sorry.”

Gigi’s drowning. There’s ice water in her veins, a chorus of I-told-you-so and you’ve-ruined-everything crashing against her skull. She pushes air out of her nose forcibly, something like a laugh but not quite.

“I was really scared, okay? And I still am. I’m still trying to figure all this out, liking girls and shit.” Crystal clears her throat, shifting nervously on her feet. “I thought you were, I don’t know, just interested in kissing me. Nothing more.”

A mean, petty part of Gigi wants to drive away right now, to not give Crystal the time to explain. But the softer part, the part that’s still stupidly heart-eyed for Crystal wants to stay. It wants to hug Crystal, pull her in and tell her it’s all fine.

Gigi digs her fingernails into her palm and ignores both of those thoughts.

Crystal is a big girl. Gigi’s not going to clean up her messes for her, especially not when they’ll just make the ache in her chest even more painful. She’s done that too much lately.

But Gigi does owe Crystal the chance to talk her feelings out. Especially given how she dumped all hers onto the girl earlier.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” Crystal says. She gestures vaguely with her hands. “I didn’t mean to.”

Gigi opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Crystal reworks her words, stumbling over them.

“Or- or maybe I meant to, in this, like, fucked up way. I don’t know.”

Gigi blinks.

“Maybe I was trying to hurt you and push you away because I liked you, yeah?”

“Are you asking me if you like me?” Gigi murmurs, eyes trained expectantly on Crystal’s face. Nothing feels real. She taps her fingers against her thigh just to do something with her hands. “I can’t answer that for you, hun.”

Crystal seems to start at that.

She shakes it off with a slightly giddy giggle, more breath than sound. It sits in the distance between them, swirling. Gigi thinks if she raises her hand she might be able to capture it in her fist, unfurl her palm to see the sound glittering against her flesh.

“Right. Sorry, I don’t know how to, uh, do this good.” Crystal amends. She pulls a shaky breath and expels it again. “I- fuck, this looked easier in the movies.”

Gigi’s lips quirk slightly. Crystal doesn’t know if it’s in amusement or something else, but she takes it as a sign to keep going.

“I care about you a lot, Gigi.” Crystal makes like she’s going to grab Gigi’s hand but seems to think better of it, resting her arm on the trim seal instead. “Not- not just as a friend. I really, I don’t want to fuck our friendship up if I do something really stupid. This probably won’t work, you know?”

Gigi stares dumbly, huffing a breath. Crystal avoids her gaze, clicks her tongue once as if making a decision. It feels like an eternity has passed in silence before she fixes her gaze on Gigi’s face again, with so much intensity Gigi shivers.

“I would like to try, though?” Crystal says. Her voice cracks on the last word, and she runs a hand through her hair, twirling the strands between her fingers like she always does when she’s stressed.

“I’d- like that,” Gigi swallows, trying to keep the excited tremor out of her voice when she responds. Her words come out choppy and blunt. “If you’re sure.”

Crystal grabs her instead of answering.

Gigi hits her head on the car frame, and Crystal’s hands tangle into her hair. The kiss is clumsy, their foreheads knocking. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

Gigi is straining to lean out the window, the metal of the car door digging into her ribs. Crystal’s teeth sink into her lip and she hisses, pulls Crystal even closer against the cool steel in retaliation, trying to close the gap.

When they part, it’s only because Gigi needs to breathe. Her entire body is thrumming like it might combust.

“Do you- was that okay? For you?” Crystal asks sheepishly. She wipes the corners of her lips, cleaning up the smudges.

“Okay? Fuck, Crystal, I’ve been dreaming of that since forever,” Gigi admits, breathless. “Are you sure?”

“You keep saying that.” Crystal offers her a lopsided grin. “Don’t ask me again, I might chicken out.”

“Oh my god,” Gigi laughs, relief swimming in her gut. Adrenaline buzzes up her spine, making her dizzy. “Oh my god, you suck. Shut up.”

“Just get out of the car,” Crystal shakes her head, biting back a smile. She slaps the roof of the car. “I wanna kiss you some more.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Crystal scurries backwards so that Gigi has enough room to open the door, stepping out onto the sidewalk.

Under the artificial lights, Crystal looks messy, skin tinted yellow.

The lighting makes the pinks of her blush clownish and the dips of her contour into unforgiving brown streaks. Her foundation is cakey on her forehead from wearing it all night, mascara muddy around her eyes.

Gigi thinks this is the most beautiful she’s ever looked.

“Stay the night?” Crystal suggests.

“As long as you won’t ignore me in the morning.” Gigi teases, because she doesn’t trust herself not to accept the offer embarrassingly fast otherwise.

Crystal just rolls her eyes. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope,” Gigi says proudly. “Can I steal snacks from your pantry? I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, but that’s cause you were too busy glaring at me halfway across the room to eat at the party,” Crystal says.

Gigi just hums. Part of her is relieved at how normal this all is. Part of her knows she shouldn’t even be surprised. They’ve always been Crystal and Gigi, and a few kisses aren’t going to change that.

Her lungs feel like they’re full of glitter, and she taps Crystal’s chin, signaling for another kiss. Crystal’s tongue tastes like stale liquor and Gigi feels drunk off of it, the feeling of Crystal so close to her and knowing that Crystal won’t run this time. Knowing that Crystal is hers.

She’s been waiting five long years for this and regrets nothing.

“What’re you thinking about?” Crystal links her arm with Gigi’s easily, their shoulders bumping.

“Nothing,” Gigi answers simply. “This was a good start to summer.”

“Yeah,” Crystal agrees, in that way of hers where she doesn’t say much but says everything all at once. “It was.”

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #crystal methyd #crygi #angst #fluff #lesbian au #pining #high school au #rpdr fanficton #I wish you were sober #mumu #concrit welcome

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starshineandbooks · 4 years

Text

Things are better if I stay...

word count: 4,105

Title from Helena by My Chemical Romance

Ao3

Warnings: MAJOR CHARTER DEATH! Angst, dealing with the death, after life, trauma, blood, gore, attempted murder, accidental murder, successful murder, Murderous! Virgil (He isn’t the killer) LOGAN ANGST! Fuck it, everyone hurts. Also not beta read

Pairings: LAMP, Thomas/Harley (Heart)

For @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors‘ Laoft au LOGAN ANGST

Summary: A coup gone wrong ends Logan’s life early, even by human standards, he dies and his loved ones are left to pick up the pieces.

AKA: I got sad so I took my emotional support character from not only the fandom but the LAOFT AU specificaly, and killed him. Oops.

Logan wasn’t supposed to be there, he never was. It was meant for his husband, for Virgil. A plan made by drunken faeries to throw a coup, and try to over through Virgil.

Virgil who was at home with their daughter. Virgil who was the faerie prince. Virgil who would later be very very murderous.

Logan strides through the door of the faerie hill,making sure he has everything in his satchel, eyes falling to the crunching leaves under foot. He sighs, the autumn air chilly this evening, just this side of unpleasant.

The next time Logan has to go and get Bell’s lesbian out of trouble he’ll have to have a real coming to Jesus with Bell. Logan shakes the thought from his mind, he must be spending too much time with May.

“Help!” A voice calls, and Logan goes still.

Logan is not delusional, he is still in a decidedly Fae part of the woods, and voices from an unseen source are definitely not to be trustable.

“HELP ME!” It rings again.

A second voice sounds, “No, you’ll draw attention.”

The second voice sounds like that of an injured man.

Logan swallows, he can’t leave them here. The voices, they’re those of his mortal husbands. Logan could never just leave them there.

Logan has never been very good at rationing things when he is distressed for a loved one.

He doesn't care, he runs to the right suddenly, following the calls for help that are in Patton’s voice, broken and brittle like glass shards. Scared, almost as chilling as when he’d been confronted with the Roman the serpent king owned, the night Roman.

Logan doesn't feel the first arrow until the second one is hitting.

Each arrow goes to his chest, hitting vital organs, and making him bleed entirely too much. He feels each arrow, fifteen in total, hit him, piercing through his skin and muscles, flowers growing from his wounds and hurting him further.

Logan crumples and hears an exchange of words that worry him.

“Oh fuck- That’s snowmelt! Oh we are so dead!”

“You are so dead, I didn’t shoot the arrows.”

“That won’t matter when the witch hears about it.”

Logan swallows hard, eyes glazing over and heart racing, what if they get Virgil next?

“Virg-” HIs throat is too full of sharp bloody shards of pain to continue.

“Logan?!” Virgil calls, appearing, it’s pretty hard for the magic in Logan’s bracelet to not let Virgil know of Logan’s condition.

Virgil scans the area just long enough to feel terrified before he looks to the ground and feels something far, far more potent than the terror of a few seconds before.

“Logan- This- This isn’t funny! Come on, get up! Get up, get up you- you- you incredibly wonderful man, get up!” Virgil shrieks, knees feeling weaker than they have in years.

“Get up.”

Logan swallows hard and manages, “I would like that very much, yes.”

“Then get up!”

“It seems as though I cannot at the moment, darling.” Logan coughs hard, lungs rattling and blood coming to splatter his face and arm as Logan tries to cover his mouth.

“Logan,” Virgil says, sinking to his knees in a surly undignified matter.

Not that Virgil could care in even the slightest with Logan bleeding out on the forest floor, in front of him no less. This isn’t right. This isn’t okay. Nothing is okay and he’s going to lose Logan isn’t he?

What is he going to tell PAtton and Roman? Kai, Sloane, Remy, Emilie, everyone else? What will he tell Linda? Or Dot and LArry?

God, what will he tell Thomas?

“Pretty stars tonight,” Logan rasps, eyes falling from the sky back to Virgil, “darling?”

“Yeah,” Virgil nods, he’ll alway agree with his husbands.

But right now Logan could say he’d never loved Virgil, and wanted to marry the serpent king but married Virgil to spite the unseelie, and that Logan had never loved anyone, and that Virgil deserved to be tortured, and Virgil would agree. Virgil would agree to anything.

“Don’t be sad, love.” Logan says weakly, reaching for Virgil.

Except that.

How could Virgil ever possibly not be sad over this?!

“Logan,” Virgil sobs, eyesight blurring at an alarming rate. But he takes Logan’s hand between his own two gently, “Logan don’t, I can get us to May.”

Virgil focuses everything he has on taking Logan to May, the shadows closing in around them, he won’t lose Logan too. Never, Logan isn’t- Logan’s not even old enough to die by human standards!

A startled shriek from Patton on the couch followed by a gasp and a call for mAy in about three voices.

Virgil’s own, if anyone was really listening, was distorting and turning decidedly non human, and much more eldritch horror-y than not.

“Shhh,” Logan shushes, “Don’t -Linny’s asleep.”

Virgil snaps back around to give Logan a very dirty look, how dare Logan shush him when Logan is literally dying. Oh god, Logan is dying- this isn’t right. Nothing is right-

“Everyone get the hell away from Logan.” May snaps, stomping forward with a black bag with pastel paisley embroidered on it and her duck slippers.

Virgil growls low, in the back of his throat, and not even he is sure what the sound most resembles.

May stares at Logan and she shakes her head with a sigh, “Logan, baby, why on God’s green earth would ya decided to become target in target practice, ya mongrel!? Are ya tryin’ ta kill me early?”

Logan stares just a little more blank than anyone would like at May’s face, “Nana-”

“Don’t you dare start some goodbye speech.”

And as if the moment could not get any worse, as if the universe hadn’t just done the not only unthinkable, but the also unforgivable by promising Logan chronic pain if not death, banshee shrieking starts up in the yard.

The snarl that leaves Roman as he drags Patton into the yard is much more threatening than Virgil thinks he’s ever heard.

“‘M sorry.” Logan rasps, a gurgle following before he swallows as hard as he can, “nd I love you, and all o’ them. Don’- d-”

“Logan don’t you dare,” May snaps wetly, “Don’t you dare! Just hold on!”

She sets a hand on his shoulder and starts digging through her bag hastily with the other.

“Don’ let them be too sa-”

“Logan, I’ll kill you if you do this.” She growls, pulling a bottle from the bag and opening it quickly before doing her level best to get it down Logan’s throat.

Logan swallows the liquid as best he can around the lack of control over his muscles he has going on. His eyes fall to Virgil’s, trying to plead Virgil to do something. To ease the pain.

And what Virgil wouldn’t do for those quick silver eyes.

“Have I told you about how I love you? Well, I’ll tell you again.” Virgil’s voice starts to lessen in distortion and grows more and more alike to the moon breaching the broken ice of a pond.

Logan’s breathing becomes more and more shallow, and even harder to keep up. His lungs rattle with every breath now, and his blood collects in his throat.

And Virgil talks, he isn’t quite sure what he’s saying, and from the looks of it, neither is Logan. May has turned her back on them, oddly quiet.

Then, “Vatti?”

A small voice, a girl’s voice. Linda’s voice.

As if shocked, Logan tries to get to see his baby one last time, figure out why she sounds so broken.

Linda slowly steps forward, “VAtti, what- Is he-”

“Go upstairs, Linny.” May says, voice making Virgil think on those spiky balls from the trees everyone uses around christmas, sometimes called a witch burr, but as miserable as wet socks.

“Mamaw-”

“Upstairs Linda Marie.”

Linda casts a look to Logan and chokes, “Papa-”

“He loves ya, now go upstairs.”

“Mamaw-”

“Now. One.”

“But-”

“Two, Miss Linny I’ll tan yer hide if ya make me get ta three.”

“I love you papa,” Linda says before running upstairs to try to pray this all into some twisted, dark, horrendous nightmare.

Virgil looks down just in time to watch the life and fight leave Logan’s eyes, and oh, that’s a rather dull look in those eyes. Isn’t it?

“What’ll we tell Thomas?” Virgil asks after a pause of who knows how long, but more than he could bear.

“The truth, I’d imagine.”

“You want to tell Logan that his brother was murdered in cold blood in the middle of faerie?” Virgil growls, then growls lower, “He was killed in the middle of my land.”

“So he was.”

“I have business as soon as we finish telling the others.” Virgil sneers, “Someone is going to answer for all of this.”

May turns after a moment, “You won’t be going alone.”

“We’ll see you hag.”

“Shuddup.” May scoffs.

And if the two are teary or maybe even crying, neither says anything, just this once.

----------

Virgil doesn't know when Patton and Roman came in, only that he hadn’t gone to bed yet. Having instead opted to sit in Logan’s garden, out back.

“Virgil?” Roman asks after a moment, sitting on the ground beside his husband. “Did- Was he in pain-”

Virgil snorts, “No, he was only murdered and shot full of arrows, he wasn’t in-” Virgil promptly shuts his mouth before sighs, “I- I am sorry. That was cruel.”

“Just- just a little, sweetie.” Patton ists on Virgil’s otherside, and Virgil isn’t sure when that happened either.

“We have to tell the others, his parents. We have to tell Thomas,” Virgil croaks, “How are we meant to tell Thomas?”

“Linda said she saw him.” Roman supplies, “So, uh, there’s that.”

Virgil forces himself to look at Roman, and he nearly screams when he sees the look upon Roman’s face. Whether in protective rage or broken sobs, Virgil’s isn’t sure, so he bites it back.

“He uh- God!” Virgil mutters something unkind under his breath about himself and words before managing, “He said we shouldn’t be sad. What the fuck does that mean?!”

Patton gives a laugh, and the underlying tone of a glass bell breaking as it rings isn’t unnoticed by Virgil. Virgil turns his head to see Patton and that was also a bad choice. It seems Virgil is only capable of making incredibly, spectacularly horrid decisions tonight.

“Just like him,” Roman shakes his head, setting his hands palm down on his knees and squeezing, “always so dismissive of his own worth!”

A thick, suffocating, decidedly sharp silence settles over the three. None of them quite touch the others, but they all want to.

To everyone’s surprise, it’s Mamaw who breaks the silence by walking into the backyard. Hands on her hips, “It’s three thirty in the morning, get yer asses in bed. This ain’t gonna be an easy recovery but we all know Logan’d have our hides if we let it tear us apart.”

“Mamaw,” Roman croaks weakly, turning to see his grandmother, “You can’t mean-”

“I mean what I said, Roman. Get yourselves in the house, or the faerie hill or somewhere else, but ya better sleep. We’re all going over to the Sanders house as soon as the sun comes up, because tonight’s a full moon and I am not going ta loose more o’ ya.”

“We should go there now.” PAtton says softly, “They’ll be angry if we put it off.”

“But-”

“I’ll go.” Virgil pushes to his feet, eyes finding the moon, not technically full, tomorrow night it will be though.

“Virgil-”

Virgil turns to face the humans, his humans, “You could come, if you like. I would not blame you if you stayed though.”

“We-”

“You two are decidedly human, yer stayin’ right here.” May says sharply, “and Virgil will be back by breakfast.”

“Yes, by breakfast.” Virgil says, though he isn’t sure when it is, or whether it will be this particular breakfast.

May nods, corralling PAtton and Roman into the house, and onto the couch, because she isn’t fool enough to think they’d sleep in the bed all four shared. Three now.

----------

Thomas shrieked when Virgil appeared in his bedroom, waking a worried Harley with said shriek.

“Oh- goodness! Virgil-”

“I didn’t mean to come to this room.” Virgil whispers softly, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, force of habit, I mean, Logan used to share this room with me and-”

Virgil gives a choked sob at his husband’s name.

“Is Logan sick or something?” Thomas staggers out of bed quickly, grabbing a shirt from the floor.

“They-” Virgil shakes his head, “He’s dead. Dead, dead, dead.”

Thomas goes silent and Harley mutters a curse word.

“Well, I suppose we’d better go downstairs then.” Thomas sighs, shaking his head, “And, you’re sure he’s y’know, gone?”

Virgil gives an indignant sound, “As if I didn’t watch it happen.”

“Okay.” Thomas walks to stand by Virgil, and he just pulls the taller man into a hug, “It’ll be okay.”

“How are you so-”

“Calm?” Thomas gives a laugh, “I'm not awake and haven’t processed it yet, give me a bit.”

“O-oh.”

“I’ll go get- uh- yeah.” Harley finishes lamely, striding out of the room.

Brian rushes into the room, “Linda’s upset, she said-”

“I heard,” Thomas sighs, “Brian it’s threey forty ish, why’re you even awake?”

“Had a nightmare, ‘nd I didn’t wanna bother anyone, but kitty’s always there.”

Virgil sighs, finally wrapping Thomas up in a hug. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“You can’t know that!”

“I do. You’d never hurt any of them, let alone kill.” Thomas says thickly, “”mon then, we’d better go tell mom and dad.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Virgil is led downstairs and sat on the couch, in Logan’s spot on the couch. And if that doesn't just make him want to scream, cry, or through a tantrum he isn’t sure what does.

He is vaguely aware of voices, and a conversation happening, but he couldn’t tell you who was speaking or what was being said.

“Virgil,” Logan’s voice insists urgently, and he knows it’s just his mind being cruel. Logan can’t be here, Logan’s gone.

“Virgil!” Thomas says louder, setting a hand on his shoulder, “Hey bud- we uh-”

“We- was he in pain.”

Virgil just nods slowly, “Uh- yeah, arrows do that.”

“He was-” Dot swallows hard.

“Y-yeah. Well, I should go. I’m sorry I don’t uhm- I don’t wanna intrude-”

“You can stay.” LArry offers weakly, “You’re family.”

“I have business to attend to.” Virgil says finally, “The sooner I start the sooner the bastards that killed him are found.”

“O-oh.”

“Hey uhm….” Thomas sighs before he just goes for it, “You’re family Virgil, don’t disappear on us. Please. And don’t you dare disappear on your daughter and husbands.”

“But-”

“You better come back on friday, we’ll have a big family dinner, all the gang.”

“But.”

“You’ll be here.” Thomas says, “And you’ll do it.”

“Thomas-”

“Go home, see your husbands.” Harley says finally, “It’ll do you some good.”

Virgil looks to Harley, startled, “But-”

“Go.”

----------

Virgil appears in the kitchen to his own house after a stop to demand Bell and white to start an investigation. It involved Bell and WHite berating him for abandoning the living husbands.

Virgil finds Patton and Roman on the couch, tangled to gether. Tear tracks staining their faces, but their breathing deep and even, they’re asleep.

Virgil goes about lifting them, and carrying them to the guest room, curled together and clinging to each other in his arms.

He sets them on the bed and sits on the edge, he won’t be sleeping tonight, or maybe ever again.

Linda stands in the doorway, “Vatti?”

Virgil turns, he’s never been good at ignoring, let alone denying his daughter anything, especially such a thing as comfort.

“C’mere liebling.” Virgil says gently, holding his arms out.

Linda rushes forward, burying herself in Virgil’s arms and chest, clambering into his lap. Virgil hugs her as tight as he can while she still breathes.

“Vatti, I- Will he come back like Gretta did?”

“No.” Virgil says, “No.”

“Oh. Good. But uhm…. Are you all going to leave too?”

“No liebling.” Virgil says, “I would never leave you.”

“But- what about daddy and pop?”

“Oh, liebling,” Virgil hums gently, “Not on purpose. But they’re human, they’ll die eventually. You and I will still be here though.”

“O-oh.” Linda says weakly, “But why-” she cuts off and a sob wracks her body.

“Because liebling, life isn’t fair.” Virgil says, not quite sure what she was going to ask but knowing it wasn’t about to be pleasant.

“I hate this.” She whispers, “It’s- it’s- it’s atrocious.”

Virgil gives a cut off sob at her choice of words, “Oh liebling, you’ll be the smartest one in the family as you get older.”

“Don’t wanna be the smartest, I want my papa.” She says petulantly.

“I know.” Virgil says gently. “I know.”

----------

Logan wakes up. To his surprise, in no pain and under a blue sky with those puffy white clouds. A large dog barks excitedly at him, so he pushes to his feet and tilts his head, watching the creature.

It barks again, turning tail and running to the edge of a tree line before turning to bark once more. Ah, Logan supposes he’s meant to follow the dog?

Logan shrugs, then laughs at himself, no one is around to see such a slip of self control after all. He follows the dog, noting the trees to be apple trees.

As the dog leads him he finds himself wondering where his husbands are and- oh. Yes. He is dead then?

He looks up to a startled gasp, finding a woman with inky hair and her hands on her hips.

“Logan Sanders.” She snaps, cuffing the back of his head, “You left them?!”

“I didn’t mean to.” Logan says, rubbing the back of his head in an attempt to soothe it, “Who are you and why did you hit me?”

“You’re a moron, you know that?!” The woman scoffs, “Askin’ who I am, if Virgil didn’t-”

“You’d be Gretta then.” Logan snorts, “You look better than last time I saw you.”

“I’d hope.” She crosses her arms stiffly, glaring at Logan.

Logan sighs, “He uhm…. Virgil misses you still. A lot, and as someone who ate your biscuit recipe product, may I just ask, do you know how spices work?”

Greta scoffs, “If it ain’t broke ya don’t fix it! Yer insufferable.”

Logan shakes his head, “I am sorry it was rude to say that I suppose I’ve spent too much time with Kai and Virgil.”

“It’s fine, Logan.” Gretta shrugs, “I figure I have eternity to make you like my cooking.”

“I see. Yes, I suppose so. But first, if I truly am dead, I think I have a snake to slap.”

“What?”

“I am less and less fond of the snake king every time Roman reveals another bit of past, I wish to slap the bastard out of the usurper.”

“Oh.” Gretta blinks, a cheshire grin spreading over her lips, “Let me get Trudi and we’ll all go with ya.”

“Very well.” Logan nods, eyes observing the people in the distance.

“I think,” Gretta says, “This is the start of a wonderfully elaborate prank on my brother. Don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, c’mon, we’d better hurry up, I know Abbey’ll wanna see you. Not sure why, you aren’t nearly as pretty as Virgil was, but he wasn’t shit either.”

Logan laughs softly, “Oh, you’re a little softer than he said-”

Gretta cuffs the back of his head again, “Shut up ya overgrown pixie.”

“O-oh.” Logan freezes, ‘Oh god Virgil- I left them. All of them- Thomas, my husbands, my parents, my friends.”

“Oh, yes, crying fixes it.”

Logan grabs Gretta’s wrist tightly, “No, you don’t get it. I left all of them, but I also left my baby. She is ten. My ten year old daughter saw me just as I was dying.”

“Oh.” Gretta blinks, “That’s uhm- Let’s go get Abbey, she’ll be better equipped for emotions.”

“I just want to go home!” Logan snaps, “Please?!”

“Ya can’t, Logan. Yer here now.”

“Thanks, I hate it.” Logan croaks, his voice cracking like thin ice over a lake, and he plunges into the darkness below.

“Oh- ABIGAIL GAUGE!”

“YEAH?!”

“C’MERE WOULD YA?! LOGAN’S HERE EARLY AND HAVING A PITY PARTY AND I CAIN’T HELP ‘IM!” Gretta calls, flinching as Logan collapses into her.

She awkwardly wraps her arms around him, patting him stiffly, “There there. Strange faerie I don’t know well who’s sobbin’ inta my shirt.”

“Virgil used to talk like that.” Logan says miserably, “I miss him.”

“Ah, I know, little gremlin weaves his way into your heart and then you lose him.” Gretta mutters, “C’mon Logan you can’t mean to cry forever.”

“I might.” Logan petulantly mumbles.

“Logan, baby, that you?” A second woman’s voice sounds, “God, you’re bigger than I remember for sure.”

Logan turns slowly, finding a fiery redhead, “Who- Who are you?”

“I go by Abbey,” She shrugs, “I’m Roman’s mom.”

“Mom and dad talked about you sometimes.”

“Ye-ah, well, I talk about them sometimes too.” Abbey holds a hand out, “C’mon baby, we’ll get you settled and calmed down, then we can go wherever you like.”

Logan takes Abbey’s hand, flinging his arms around her, feeling an oddly deep connection he didn’t know existed with this woman who looks just enough like Roman to hurt.

And maybe it takes Logan a while to settle, sometimes it still hurts. But he does end up slapping Durrant, multiple times, Gretta, Trudi, and Abbey also join the slapping the bastard out of Durrant party.

Virgil sees the poor faeries who killed Logan to a public execution. But it doesn't do anything to fix the ache Logan’s loss created. He’s more protective of his loved ones, each and every one of them. Especially Linda.

Linda who may not look like Logan, but shares in the ability to grow plants. Linda who has taken up the habit of reading herself to sleep with dictionaries. Linda, who will outlive Virgil, god willing that is.

Patton heals slowly, they all do, but Patton lost not only his husband, but his very first friend. Patton lost the man who he did his first play date with. Patton lost a lot when Logan left them, but he healed slowly.

Roman becomes more reckless at first, he couldn’t care less, if he dies he can see Logan again. He eventually, through therapy Emilie provides -who else?- realizes that he still has so much to live for. It gets a little easier, but Roman internalizes it, that two men he’s loved dead, what if Patton aor Virgil is next?

Virgil, Patton, and Roman’s marriage is strained at first. They still love each other, and that would never change, but the dynamic changed. They were mourning, and breaking, and not talking about it. Again. After a year and Linda sobbing and asking if they’re going to break up and leave her too, they go to counseling, which, helps. It isn’t perfect, and they’ll alway be missing their last piece, they won’t be whole. But, they’re better, they’re marriage isn’t strained.

Thomas withdrew from the world, only really talking to Harley and Brian. He lost his best friend in the whole world, his barley younger but still baby, brother. He lost his partner in crime, his childhood memory. Now Thomas only knows half of everything, where as before Thomas knew half of everything, so did Logan, so they knew everything.

May got crankier. May lost another kid she’d loved to a horrible accident. Another kid she couldn’t save. May lives in the past for a while, but she knows the drill, she’s probably the best prepared.

Dot and Larry stop going in public when avoidable. They cry together, and the gp to therapy. They lost their child, and so much more. They lost not just Logan, but almost Thomas too.

Kai doesn't make fun of Logan anymore, he misses the nerd.

Sloane and Corbin try to keep Thomas company when they can, but they all have lives of their own.

Elliot spends a lot of time with Virgil, maybe they weren’t as close to Logan, but they did count him a friend.

Remy and Emilie while they mourn and definitely are a little strained and weary, they make sure the others have groceries and therapy. They do their level best to help the others when they can.

#sanders sides #laoft #major character death #blood #arrows #gore #after life #sanders sides angst #DEAD! Logan Sanders #romantic lamp

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outroshooky · 5 years

Text

a sliver of the stars | jhs

⇢ genre: drabble (fwb!au, friendstolovers!au) (fluff, smut, a smidgeon of angst)

⇢ pairing: jung hoseok x reader

⇢ word count: 1.1k

⇢ audio: weak when ur around / blackbear

⇢ warnings: smut (d/s dynamics [sub!reader], praise, a couple instances of a daddy kink, oral sex [f receiving], marking [bruises], implied sex), an instance or two of body image anxiety.

⇢ a/n: born out of my need to write more pieces for hoseok and the fact that i think he would 11/10 be the most caring partner, regardless of how official or not the relationship is. to all of my readers out there who struggle to love their bodies: you are beautiful. beautiful is found in diversity, in our differences. your stretch marks are beautiful. your skin, dark or light or something in between, is beautiful. you deserve to feel loved and you deserve to love yourself.

It’s an unspoken agreement. The kind of thing that’s never broached outside of the lips of whiskey bottles and bodies pressed together like puzzle pieces interlocking. Never discussed, kept under wraps, and all for the better, somehow. Like the world isn’t fucked up enough as it is with or without him in it, in or out of reality.

It’s strange when he stays. Stranger when he doesn’t stay to be fair, but he always tries his best. He likes to show that he cares, in spite of it all. A twist of your wrist during a messy blowjob, a sloppy makeout in the backseat of his car. But even then, he’s insisting that he return the favor with an open-mouthed kiss to your hip, and suddenly the cosmos is just a tiny bit brighter with him in it.

He loves to go down on you. Shocking, in some capacity. You can’t remember a day you ever looked in the mirror and felt worthy enough of that, of being wanted by somebody. Somebody who wasn’t just a run-of-the-mill type of guy, somebody with substance. Somebody you cared about, somebody who cared about you. Cares. Puts effort into it, this little thing you have that nestles itself between leather seams and the folds of your sheets. He wants it. Wants you.

His head is tucked between your thighs, your fingers a permanent fixture in his tawny mussed locks. He’s splayed your legs, bare for the world to see, but he’s staring like he’s got everything he ever wanted in front of him and frankly, you’ve never seen someone look so entranced. So hungry. Ready to pounce, except he doesn’t have to. Just needs to glance up at you, the heat in his eyes making you shudder. His hair is messy. He’s naked, sculpted like divinity carved from marble, the sheer face of a blank cliff. He is hard, so fucking hard and thick and nearly dripping with need. He’s two seconds from grinding into the mattress. It’s hot. So you tell him.

“Hoseok, baby, you’re so fucking sexy when you look at me like that,” you pant. You’re heaving, short of breath; he’s like a god; liquid sunshine runs in his veins, glows through his skin. He’s gorgeous in the light. Unspoken.

He smirks, the corner of his mouth pulling. Hot. He wants it. Wants this, the praise, even the degradation. He loves it. Thrives on it like a sunflower blossoming in the moon’s praises, and you can’t help but squirm under his heat. “Yeah? How bad do you want it, hm?”

“So bad, so bad,” you’re rambling, killing time, drawing out every ounce, every millisecond. You need it. Need him.

He chuckles. Needy. It always looks good on you, so delectable to him. “What do you need, babygirl? Tell daddy what you need.”

“Need you—” it practically bursts from your lips, “need your mouth, your fingers, your cock daddy—”

“And my baby gets anything she wants, always,” he kisses the inside of your thigh, so close, so close— “as long as she’s good.”

“I’m a good girl, good for you, please daddy, please go down on me, I’ll do anything you say f-fuck—”

Your cry bursts hollow from your throat as his lips close over your clit and suck, eyes fluttering shut in ecstacy, groaning at the taste. Always so perfect for him. He’ll make you cum, over and over like this. Hoseok plays your body with the strokes of a musician, drawing tones from your lips that fill the air like the most heavenly carnal symphony. He pauses too, to decorate your body with ornaments that leave you breathless and pink in the cheeks, stained with your own shame without a care in the world. Purple roses and blue lilacs to remember him by, and they’re the objects of his gentle touch when his own release splatters your stomach. Not for long though, because no sooner is he traipsing off to the bathroom for a warm washcloth than he is collapsing into bed beside you and wrapping an arm around your waist. He misses your smile, the kind you hide into the crook of your elbow. He cares.

Was it okay? He never says it, never breaks the hallowed silence of that bedroom in the wee hours of the morning, but you know he’s thinking it. It’s written in the way his fingers trace down your curves and edges, in the way the corner of his mouth twitches when he fingers each petal carved crimson into your skin. The sculpted becomes the sculptor, and all is still.

You don’t know how to tell him that yes, this is okay. It is more than okay. He is so much more than okay. He is, in fact, everything good and right and wonderful, like every star in the universe gave just enough dust to make another, but there wasn’t enough room in the galaxy for him, so he was bottled into this merely mortal body instead. He shines in the dim radiance of the hour, but come morning he will glow as the sunlight falls in a block across your comforter and his hair will stick up at odd angles and he will groan sleepily as he buries his face in your back, seeking darkness. He cares and it is so much more than okay, so much more than you can fathom to tell him in plain, clear-cut language that is not gestures of adoration masked by the complicated drapery of not labeling whatever this is.

So you opt to roll over and face him, cradling his face in your hands like he is glass about to shatter. An ancient masterpiece, marked and torn from the rubble of reality, somehow placed beside you in this ocean of a bed. Disconnected, disjointed. Compassion. He nuzzles into your palms, his eyelashes dusting the beautiful full apples of his cheeks. He looks so much younger when he sleeps. So much less war-torn, busy with his ever-racing mind. Your thumb rubs his cheekbone and his hand finds your wrist, but he does not take it away. Just holds you, like you are the only thing grounding him as the waves roll over and over themselves. It is nothing short of ethereal.

The lips of whiskey bottles and the press of two bodies becoming one, except when the lips are your own and the press is to his temple. Kept under wraps, save the warmth that spreads in your veins like the buds that bloom across your thighs. The world is fucked up, but it is, for sure, just a tad better, a bit more bearable with him in it. A little less fucked up with a sliver of stardust next to you, heart beating rapid under your palm, humanity intact. A slice of the cosmos, and you are simply orbiting him.

You don’t dare say it with a mortal’s mouth. Instead, he does.

“I love you.”

Precedence be damned. “I love you too, Hoseok.”

“Goodnight.”

“...Goodnight.”

#bts #bts smut #hoseok smut #bts fluff #hoseok fluff #kpop fanfiction #kpop fluff #kpop smut #kpop scenario #fwb au #outroshooky

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ikevampeventarchive · 4 years

Text

[ERS] Urgent Bloodsucking ～ Arthur

Duration: 11/8 (Fri) 04:00 PM ～ 11/15 (Fri) 09:00 PM

Acting like nothing is amiss, Arthur attempts to weather out his thirst alone. You, having caught onto his actions, run to him....

Once unleashed, drown in the endless depths of sweet desire ——

Event Prologue | Route Preview

[This is an unofficial work based on fan-translation. Copyright belongs to Cybird.]

Common Route

Arthur, Isaac and Vincent all set their glasses down, and MC watches on anxiously. Arthur suddenly rises from his seat and comes over to her, gripping her arm with a serious face and saying that he really wants to suck her blood. Over at the table, Isaac calls him out on the bluff, to which Arthur grins at being caught. Isaac then checks on Vincent, who reports that nothing is wrong. Sebastian is relieved that nothing seems to have happened, and while Vincent was a bit disappointed due to wanting to know Isaac’s thirst, he also agrees that it’s for the best.

Just as everyone is calming down, loud sounds of glass shattering ring out from the kitchen, and Sebastian turns to run as fast as he can towards it. Arthur’s face darkens seemingly having guessed what was happening. Following on his coattails, everyone arrives in the kitchen to see shattered glass all over the floor, liquids splattered all over the place, and at the center of it all — sitting on the counter and staring at everyone with a confused look — Arthur’s King Charles Cavalier, Vic.

MC recalls that earlier when the Rosé was accidentally served, she and Sebastian were going through their stock of Rouge and Blanc. Arthur quickly scoops Vic up into his arms, and Sebastian regretfully informs everyone that the contents on the floor are what remains of their last bottles of Rouge and Blanc. Isaac and MC share a look.

Isaac: Say the side effects were to kick in. Wouldn’t you be in a dangerous situation right now?

Sebastian: I am also in the same boat.

Arthur: Nope. You can’t be thinking that I’d actually drink a man’s blood.

Sebastian: How regrettable…. Of course, I merely jest.

(A joke, huh? Sebastian seemed more likely to instead gleefully note down the details in event of being bitten, but I decided to keep that to myself.)

Sebastian then declares that he will go buy more Rouge and Blanc, forecasting that he will return at nightfall at the latest. However, before he leaves, Sebastian also warns that the side effects of the Rosé differs from person to person, and that delayed effects are not out of the realm of possibility. Arthur then asks if the chances of such side effects are high, to which Sebastian qualifies by saying that while possible, it is true that the chances are low. Vincent is relieved and says that they would not have to worry much then, while Isaac expresses his hopes for the sleeping dogs to just keep on sleeping.

After helping Sebastian clean up the kitchen and seeing him off, MC walks out into the hallway and runs into Arthur. He says that he’s heading towards the library to do some research. MC, thinking that she could at least do something to help in event of the side effects kicking in, asks Arthur if she could come along to help.

Arthur draws close to MC, and asks if she’s worried about the side effects of the Rosé. MC answers that she’s worried about Arthur being in pain due to the overwhelming thirst, since it must be extremely painful for a vampire. Arthur smiles and says that she truly is a kind person, though he thinks that she should worry for herself first instead of him. In the end, Arthur lets MC come along, saying that in the event of the side effects kicking in, he has a good contingency plan in place. He ends the conversation by saying that he doesn’t have any intentions of biting MC anyways, and the two of them hold hands on the way to the library.

Once there, Arthur produces a list of books he needs as reference, and MC sets to finding them. When she returns, Arthur is seated at a desk, wearing his glasses and writing with a fountain pen. She watches him for a few moments, thinking to herself that he looks different from his usual lighthearted self, and very handsome as he focuses. Arthur notices her staring, and teasingly asks her as such.

Arthur: What are you looking at?

MC: N — nothing in particular.

Arthur: Now, that can’t be just nothing, staring at a person like that.

Arthur then stands up and comes over to MC, and her heartbeat races at their proximity.

Arthur: C’mon, be honest. Were you perhaps, captivated by me?

MC: ...Maybe a little.

Arthur: Mhm, good girl.

They continue to banter for a bit, and just as they lean in for a kiss, Arthur suddenly releases MC’s body, head hanging low as he released pained breaths. MC realizes that it could be the side effects of the Rosé at play, and frantically asks Arthur if he’s okay. At that moment, her body is once again grabbed, and MC feels hot breaths against her neck. It turns out that Arthur was merely playing a joke, and MC scolds him for making her worry.

Arthur then removes his glasses and retrieves his book list, saying that since his research has made good progress, he’s going to go into town for a bit. MC says that she’ll come along, since she also has a few things she wants to buy. However, Arthur firmly rejects this, clarifying that it’s a bit of important business for him, and he wants to settle it on his own. He asks MC to wait at the mansion for him, and turns to leave. MC feels like something is off, and calls after him, but then changes her mind when she sees that he’s acting just as usual. She wishes him safe journeys, and watches his back as he leaves, uneasy all the while.

Switching to Arthur POV, the scene begins with him hurrying through the forest, trying to get far away from MC. It turns out that the side effects of the Rosé really did kick in, and he was just pretending to be fine. Deep in the forest, he comes across an abandoned shack and locks himself inside, falling against the furthest wall from the entrance. He thinks to himself about how a vampire’s bloodlust is proportional to their romantic feelings, knowing that if he were to bite MC in the throes of the Rosé-induced thirst, he would end up draining all of her blood. Sitting in the shack, he prepares himself to wait out the pain, narrating that before, he wouldn’t hesitate to find a woman in town and drink from her, but now even that option isn’t possible because he doesn’t want to betray MC.

Arthur: When I think of her… I can’t do such a thing. — It seems like I really do love her.

Thus, he bears the pain, thinking of MC all the while.

Back at the mansion, MC paces the length of the library, thinking of Arthur’s reaction. At that moment, Isaac comes in, and she decides to ask him about the effect of the thirst he feels. Isaac quickly catches onto the situation, and begins explaining. He says that in the throes of the thirst, a vampire will quickly lose their reason; each second withstood, the pain grows. He also doubts Arthur’s ability to keep a straight face in front of such pain, but if MC thought something was off, then she’s most likely correct, as she is the one that knows Arthur the best. Hearing this, MC realizes that Arthur is somewhere out there, suffering on his own, and runs out of the mansion to search for him.

Leaving the mansion, she turns to the woods. After wandering through the immediate surrounding area, MC spots a bright glimmer in the ground. It turns out to be Arthur’s fountain pen, and she discovers a small trail nearby that leads to the abandoned shack from earlier. MC knocks on the door and pleads to Arthur to let her in, saying that she knew Arthur would be suffering by himself when he asks why she’s here when he said he’d be in town. In the end, she tells Arthur that he can bite her if he wants, and Arthur opens the door, scolding her for running after him.

—

Sweet (Love’s Devotion) End

The thing he truly wants, even more than blood....

“Your everything, won’t you give it all to me?”

Wholeheartedly drown in this sweet and gentle time for just the two of you —

—

Arthur steps out of the abandoned shack, saying that if MC chased him all the way here, then that must mean she’s prepared herself for what comes next.

Arthur: Won’t you give all of yourself to me?

MC suddenly realizes that Arthur’s snapped out of it and is no longer feeling the side effects, to which Arthur grins at being caught just like earlier. MC sighs with relief and remembers that the effects were only supposed to last for about an hour, and tells Arthur that she’s glad he’s okay. Arthur replies likewise, though qualifying that by saying that he was still feeling the last remainders of the thirst by the time she came, and it was still a dangerous situation that they got through by the skin of their teeth.

MC says that she heard from Isaac about the pain, and wanted to help Arthur anyway she could. Hearing that, Arthur could no longer be mad. She then asks Arthur if the thirst was painful, feeling like in the end, she couldn’t do anything for him. Arthur answers that it did, but compared to keeping her safe and unharmed, it was nothing. MC is touched by his kindness, and Arthur asks for a kiss as a reward for overcoming his ordeal. MC complies, and gives him a light kiss.

When they pull away, Arthur is disappointed at such a small reward, and asks if that’s it. MC is embarrassed and says that they need to return to the mansion since she ran out after hearing what Isaac had to say. As for the rest of Arthur’s reward, they’ll continue afterwards. Arthur then expresses his surprise at how MC was able to find the abandoned shack in the first place, and MC returns the fountain pen that Arthur dropped earlier. Then, they hold hands on the way back to the mansion.

As they approach, they find Isaac waiting at the entrance.

Isaac: …! The two of you made it back.

Arthur teases Isaac about being worried for them, to which Isaac retorts that he was just worried for MC, not for Arthur. He then asks about the side effects of the Rosé, and Arthur replies that leaving the mansion was the only way he could think of not to hurt MC, and that he didn’t bite any woman in town either. Isaac then haltingly admits that Arthur was a better guy than he thought.

Arthur: Huh…?

Arthur: … MC, did you hear that just now? That might’ve been the first time Newt ever said something affectionate towards me. Is there a gramophone at this mansion? Won’t you say that again for me?

Isaac: One, I didn’t say anything affectionate, and two, don’t try to record me!

Watching them bicker, MC laughs and wonders whether they’re on bad terms or are actually good friends. Arthur then says that Isaac is tougher than he thought, dealing with the sort of thirst on a regular basis. Isaac then brushes it off, saying that he doesn’t want to be praised by Arthur, though MC notes that he did get a bit flustered.

Arthur: Then, I’ll take my leave.

Isaac: Since the two of you are safe and sound, I have nothing else to chat about.

Arthur: So you really were worried for us!

Isaac: Shut it.

Isaac leaves and MC and Arthur watch him go. MC notes that Arthur really is fond of Isaac, to which Arthur says that he’s much more fond of MC, cupping her cheeks and kissing her. He hints at the continuation MC spoke of earlier, and MC says that they’ll get to it, but first bade Arthur to speak to Sebastian about the Rosé first.

As the scene ends, MC thinks about how Arthur is alway so teasing, yet still treasures her a lot; feeling vexed that Arthur ended up getting hurt for her this time. Then, she follows him into the mansion.

—

Premium (Instinctual Bloodsucking) End

Ensnared by desire, he yearns for blood....

“...Sorry. I’ll probably be rough with you.”

Vampire instincts steal away both your heart and body ——

—

Arthur grips MC’s wrist, pulling her into the abandoned shack and asks her why she’s here. MC tells him what she heard from Isaac, and once again offers Arthur her blood. Arthur sighs and gently admonishes her before gripping MC’s wrist roughly and giving her a bruising kiss. When she flinches from pain, he pulls away and tells her that she should run now, because he can’t restrain himself in this state.

MC realizes that Arthur is once again trying to scare her off for her own sake, and replies that she won’t back off — that if she thinks he’s taking too much blood, then she’ll throw him down and run away. This surprises Arthur, and he gives in.

Arthur: …. Sorry, this might be a bit painful.

Arthur bites MC and drinks deeply. Just as she starts feeling lightheaded, Arthur breaks away with a start, and they confirm that the thirst has waned. Arthur proceeds right back to scolding MC, worried for her recklessness and that he could’ve done something to hurt her in that state. He then asks MC if she’s OK, and apologizes for letting MC see such a bad side of him. MC confirms that she’s fine, and assures Arthur that he didn’t do anything bad, even going so far as to endure the thirst for her and hide away in this shack. Moved, Arthur once again hugs her close, pressing kisses all over MC’s ear and neck.

Arthur: … I love you.

MC enjoys the ministrations, but then pushes Arthur away, saying that it tickles. Arthur continues to trace her body above her clothes for a few more moments, but soon puts them back in order and extends a hand to help MC up. She realizes that he was just teasing and sighs, exasperated that Arthur is back to his usual self as soon as the symptoms pass. However, both of them are relieved that Arthur is back to his normal self. Thus, they return to the mansion.

After returning to the mansion and giving a worried Isaac a simple explanation, the two of them head to their rooms. Halfway there, Arthur suddenly stops, saying that perhaps they shouldn’t sleep together tonight after all. MC asks if there’s something wrong, and Arthur replies that there isn’t anything wrong, per se, but the lingering effects of the Rosé makes him feel like he won’t be able to hold back, and instead embrace her with his full strength. MC assents, thinking to herself that sometimes she wants to discard common sense as well.

Arthur: If you’re giving me permission with such a face, you won’t be able to reverse it, you know.

Arthur: … Don’t go back on what you said just now.

Note: This is where the paid epilogue starts.

—

Epilogue Preview

Reaching its limits, his desire yearns for you to the point of madness....

Exchanging kisses, entwining tongues; faint wet noises echo through the quiet room.

Arthur: ....I’m sorry. Really, I have no control right now.

Arthur’s hot tongue trace across the bite marks he made at the cabin—

Slowly, he presses his fangs against that same spot.

Arthur: Come, give me more. I haven’t loved you enough.

Flirtatious desire, melting thoughts.

Captive to instinctual desires, the two of you drown in a wave of pleasure ——

Event Info | Vincent Route | Isaac Route

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #arthur #ers #revival #urgent bloodsucking #november 2019 #general election 2019

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 4 years

Text

False (red) Colours

As far as situations went, Virgil was pretty sure his was unique.

Not because of the whole hunting vampires thing; apparently there were tonnes of those people scattered around the globe. Heck, Virgil probably wasn’t the only hunter to join the cause because he’d been enamored by a goddamn beautiful idiot who he couldn’t just walk away from. But if he came across another vampire pretending to be human to go on vampire hunting trips with said idiot, then he had to congratulate them, because keeping this shit secret was hard.

Not that Virgil felt bad for the vampires they hunted down. He and Roman only went after the nasty ones anyway, the ones who took their strength and longevity and used it for their own gain, to punish or control those around them. So no, Virgil didn’t particularly care about those vampires. They were just bloodsuckers who abused their power, they were practically asking to be staked.

Which was why he didn’t feel bad for what they were about to do.

“Anything yet?” Roman asked from the drivers seat. They’d parked in a shadowy junkyard to observe the comings and goings of an old, disused storage facility on the edge of town. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, now that you mention it, I saw a vampire earlier and decided not to mention it because I like sitting in a dark car in the middle of the night.” He drawled. Roman pulled out his sword to sharpen it lazily and Virgil hissed at him. “Put that thing away! You’ll end up stabbing someone.”

Roman snorted. “Kinda the plan, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, the plan to not stab me.” Virgil muttered. Roman, the gorgeous idiot, just grinned at him crookedly and rolled his eyes. The moment only lasted a moment, however, because his gaze sharpened and locked onto something through the window. The hairs on the back of Virgil’s neck stood on end. He quickly followed Roman’s stare.

Movement at the mouth of the building. A figure scurried through the entrance, shutting the door after them. They moved fluidly and disappeared inside within seconds. From their speed and coordination in the dark, Virgil was pretty certain he knew what they were, and it was just what he and Roman had come looking for. He tried to catch a further glimpse of the figure through the windows but they had all been boarded up.

“What’s the bet it’s a whole nest?” Roman said lowly.

“Well, boarded windows. They’re still young enough to be weak to the sun.” Virgil pointed out. “So our guy’s probably converting new followers and enthralling them while they’re still weak. That’ll be where all the disappearances are coming from, I guess. Another world-leader wannabe.”

Roman looked thoughtful. “Maybe. Either the missing people are already enthralled, or they’re dinner. No way we’ll be able to rescue any of them. We’ve gotta shut this down before they get anyone else.”

“Do we need to call Joan and Talyn?” Virgil asked. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to be calling in more hunters, as nice as the duo had seemed when they met up for lunch the other week, and thankfully Roman shook his head.

“They’re already busy tonight. Besides, we’ve got this.” Roman ran a hand through tousled brown curls and grinned. “Least kills buys pizza tomorrow?”

“You’re on.”

Roman took the left wing while Virgil took the right. It was the best way to tackle newly-established nests – the sire would be resting, protected, in the heart of the building, sending his newly fledged underlings to act as guards on the outskirts. Virgil’s heart went out to the vampire standing guard in front of side door – she had obviously been turned only a few days ago at most. She flinched even at the soft glow of the moon as if it were the sun’s glare, and squinted around at her dark surroundings. Even her night vision must not have fully kicked in yet.

Virgil could remember what it was like to be newly fledged. He’d been scared, confused, hurt and hungry. He didn’t understand what was going on around him. It had taken weeks of hiding and feeding and adjusting to his new body for him to gather his mind enough to finally remember his own name. He’d recovered; eventually.

But Virgil hadn’t been enthralled by an elder vampire.

Which was why he didn’t hesitate to break her neck, as quickly and painlessly as he could before making his way further into the building. He encountered few fledgling on his way. It was a nest in its early stages, after all. Hunters had to make sure to close down any nests before they could be properly established and dig their roots in too deep.

Virgil’s anxiety levels rose the further he explored, knives at the ready. This place was quiet, eerie – it gave him the creeps. More so than the usual creepy vampire hangouts. And that was saying something.

A scrape. Virgil flattened his back against a wall, listening carefully into the quiet of the inner sanctuary. There was a muted rustling and rasp of voices. Virgil slunk towards the entrance.

No time to think, only act. As soon as the room came into focus, the gloomy concrete floors and the vampire hissing to its quivering subject, Virgil lunged.

The elder screeched and its eyes flashed – the fledgling jerked, against their will, into Virgil’s path. Virgil swiped them out of the way and found a pistol aimed at his face.

The elder vampire stared at him, and Virgil stared back. Since when did vampires need guns? This one apparently took no chances. Its face slowly split into a fanged smile as it regarded Virgil. At least Roman wasn’t here yet. They stood alone in a dark room that may have once been an office or a break room. Now it was torn up and water-stained. The air smelled mildewy.

“Nice place you got here.” Virgil drawled. The vampire’s head tipped.

“A hunter. I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Virgil’s lip curled. “Yeah, yeah, speeches and all that shit. I get the drill.”

“You’re not going to ask me about myself?”

“I don’t fucking care who you are.”

The vampire shrugged. “That’s fair.” It said, and then it pressed the trigger and shot Virgil in the chest with a deafening crack. There was a sharp impact that hurt like a bitch, and he hissed, clutching at his shirt with sharp nails. It burned, already itching as it began to scab over. The blood dribbled over his hand. It was hot and metallic and the scent of it made Virgil’s fangs burst free with the need to rip tear rend.

The vampire’s eyes widened comically. “You’re-”

Virgil didn’t realize a familiar figure stood frozen in the doorway.

He didn’t realize as he lunged at the gun-toting vampire with a roar; sank his fangs into its neck and tore out its throat; latched onto the hot, life-giving pulse and gulped greedily as he dragged its twitching body to the floor. He wrapped his legs around its convulsing chest and sucked down deep mouthfuls of liquid. Contrary to popular beliefs, vampires could still bleed. They had heartbeats.

But not enough, not fast enough to sate his hunger. Virgil tore through veins and arteries and sank his fangs in once again, feeling the strong throbbing of his prey’s heartbeat nearly push bursts of blood down his throat.

And then a voice that shattered his whole world into pieces.

“Virgil!”

Virgil’s appetite dropped like a stone. He snapped his head up – too little, too late, for the human in the doorway. The human who had been here this whole time. Roman stood white-faced with his sword clutched in one hand, and when Virgil met his horrified gaze Roman lifted it.

“No.” The sound that tore from Virgil’s lips was rough, somewhere between a whimper and a sob. He clapped his hands over his blood-smeared face.

But the damage was done.

Roman stepped forward and Virgil slithered back with a frightened cry. The gleam of the blade filled his vision. He scrambled in reverse until his back hit a wall – pinned, trapped.

And still Roman advanced. Virgil pressed his back against the wall.

“Roman, please – walk away now, don’t come any closer! Roman BACK OFF!”

Step after slow step. Virgil dug his nails into the wall and screamed, “BACK OFF! I’LL KILL YOU!”

Roman didn’t slow.

“Leave me alone! ROMAN! I swear I’ll kill you – I swear I’ll–”

But Virgil couldn’t swear anything. He curled up into a ball and hissed half-heartedly at the hunter who loomed over him, sword in hand. Roman. He couldn’t hurt Roman.

Roman moved, and Virgil closed his eyes and hoped it would be quick.

Seconds passed and the pain did not come, nor the sound of Virgil’s neck being sliced. He peeked out from under his eyelashes, still expecting the blow to come.

Roman’s sword had been roughly, hastily shoved into its sheath. And Roman – Roman had dropped down to his knees with his hands palm-up and empty. Virgil stared at him suspiciously – what was the trick? The ploy? The knife to spear him through the heart?

“Virgil.” Roman rasped. “Virgil, please. I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m not.”

Not? Virgil tucked himself in tighter. He hadn’t felt his eyes well up but he did feel the hot blood track down his face in a vampire’s imitation of tears.

“Virgil, listen to me. You’re safe. I promise you you’re safe.”

Virgil bit his lip – but he’d forgotten about his unsheathed fangs and now fresh blood welled up, sliding down his chin.

Roman opened his arms. “It’s okay.”

It was probably a ruse – a trick, to get him to drop his guard. What the hell. Virgil would die anyway. He may as well pretend to be loved, just for a little while.

So he tipped forward and into Roman’s grip – allowing the hunter to hold him while Virgil wept into his vampire-blood-splattered jacket. Roman stroked his hair feverishly. He was warm, solid, and the contact made Virgil relax against him almost instantly like a tired cat. Everything might even be worth it for this moment.

“Oh, stormcloud. Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Roman whispered. “I love you. We’re gonna be okay.”

Definitely worth it. Virgil took a deep breath and steeled himself for the jab of a blade in his unprotected back. It… didn’t come. Roman was getting slow.

Maybe he wanted to draw this out. Virgil didn’t have it in him to fight anymore. Whatever Roman had planned for him it was justified anyway.

He let out a whimper of protest as Roman started pulling away, and was answered by Roman’s arms tightening again.

“We have to leave, okay Virge?” He whispered. “Let’s go home.”

Well, that was morbid. Virgil nodded mutely against Roman’s chest. If that was where he wanted to do it…

Roman was deathly silent on the way home. Virgil pulled his knees to his chest in the passenger seat and looked out the window for the whole drive. The midnight city was alight – a collage of bright signs and dim alleyways and the stretch of charcoal sky. Occasionally Virgil would catch glimpses of his reflection in the window. His drawn face, the shadows under haunted eyes, bloodstains around his mouth and dripping down his chin. Looking every bit the monster he was.

Virgil tried to ignore that and focus on the view. After all, this was the last time he’d see it.

The drive ended all too soon, Roman pulling into a familiar driveway. The usually cheerful face of home now appeared dark and menacing. Virgil barely waited for the car to stop before he shoved opened his door and strode inside. With his pretense of being human blown, he didn’t need to turn the lights on. He did, for Roman’s benefit.

Virgil looked out the window and hugged himself as Roman’s footsteps followed him inside. Roman pulled off his bloodstained jacket and dropped it on a rack.

“Do you want the shower first?” Roman offered quietly. Jeez, he was really taking this seriously. Virgil shook his head. “Okay then.”

The hunter disappeared into the bathroom. He was being very trusting, assuming Virgil wouldn’t try to escape. Or maybe Roman knew that even if Virgil did run, he would just find him again. Roman always found his prey.

Virgil slumped bonelessly on the couch and buried his face in his hands.

It seemed like only a few minutes later that Roman emerged with wet hair. Virgil glanced up through his fingers, biting his lip. Roman was heading for the fridge.

“Shower’s yours. I’m gonna cook some ravioli, and then we should talk. Things always seem better after a meal, like Mama used to say-”

Virgil yelled, “Why are you doing this?”

Roman froze. Oh shit, Virgil hadn’t meant to say anything. But it was done now.

He stood jerkily from the couch. “I get that you want to do it right, or whatever. I’m a vampire. I get it. But – but now you’re just being cruel.” Virgil dug his fingers into his scalp, eyes prickling with bloody tears. “Why don’t you just get it over with? Do you want to set me on fire or something? Do you want to chop off my head? I don’t care Roman, just do it already!”

Roman looked horrified. “Virgil, what on earth are you talking about?”

“You need help? I’ll help you!” Virgil grabbed out his own dagger with shaking hands and pressed the tip to his chest. It pricked through his shirt and Roman paled. “Just do it already! Put me out of my misery, I don’t want – I don’t want to wait any longer.” His voice cracked. “Why are you making me wait?”

“Virgil.” Virgil winced up through a blur of red tears as Roman stalked forward. Roman grabbed the dagger from his hands and threw it away. It skittered across the floor. Virgil stared at Roman as the hunter framed his face, tears pouring from bright brown eyes. “Virgil, honey, please listen. I’m not gonna hurt you, I swear, Stormcloud. I’m not. You’re my Virge. We can handle this, I promise. Listen – listen!” He grabbed Virgil’s hands as the vampire tried to hide his face. “You’re safe, Virgil, I promise.”

Virgil shook his head and tried to shout, but his voice came out as more of a strangled sob. “I’m a bloodsucker. A parasite. I deserve to die, you know that-”

“No, Virgil, you’re so good. You’re so good. You don’t deserve to die and I’m not gonna kill you. Okay?”

There was no lie in his voice.

Roman was crying, and his eyes were so intense – Virgil couldn’t meet them. He could only nod mutely. Roman squeezed his hands.

“Now why don’t you go have a shower? You’ll feel better after that. And we can eat some food, and sleep, and talk tomorrow. Okay?” Virgil nodded again. “Do you wanna have a sleepover in my room?” Another nod. “Okay. I’ll take care of it.”

Roman kissed Virgil’s forehead before sending him to the bathroom. It was warm and full of steam. Homely in a way that Virgil didn’t deserve. He stood under hot water and scrubbed dry blood from his skin. He felt like he was in a dream.

When Virgil emerged Roman was making trips from the lounge to his room, carting pillows and – was that the fucking microwave? Virgil hesitated. When Roman wobbled though, instinct kicked in and he darted forward to catch the heavy machinery before it could drop.

“Thanks.” Roman wheezed, not flinching like Virgil would have expected. He was acting so… normal. Virgil would have been weirded out if he wasn’t so tired.

“Why the fuck are you taking the microwave?” Virgil asked quietly.

“Uh, because I want to make popcorn and it’s annoying to keep walking back and forth from the kitchen to my room? Duh. Hey, you’ve got that super vampire strength right? Can’t believe I’ve been carrying things for you all this time. Come on, we’re eating popcorn and watching movies and leaving all the knives and shit out here.”

Virgil blinked at the overload of information. “Um.”

“Are you coming or what?”

Virgil shifted the microwave to his hip and stared at the exasperated hunter, whose eyes were still pink from crying and yet rolling like this was any other day and he hadn’t just discovered his best friend was a fucking vampire. Seriously. Virgil had known Roman was an idiot, but he’d expected the hunter to have some sense of self-preservation.

“I have fangs.” Virgil blurted out. Roman frowned at him.

“Yes. I thought we already covered this? Now get your ass into gear, Big Hiro 6 isn’t going to watch itself.”

…huh. Either Roman or Virgil were stupider than he’d thought, because this was not playing out how he’d expected.

For the sake of his dignity, Virgil chose to believe it was Roman who was lacking in IQ. He shrugged and went to carry the fucking microwave into Roman’s bedroom. His idiot had decided to keep him, and like hell Virgil was gonna throw that away by being moody and dramatic.

He managed to not be moody and dramatic up until Roman cheekily suggested they watch Twilight. At that point Virgil couldn’t be blamed for throwing a pillow at his face.

#writing #my writing #my fic #sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #tw blood #vampires #tw violence

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margoshansons · 5 years

Text

Desperate Measures: 14/?

Masterlist:

Summary: unsure of the whereabouts of her friends and Bellamy, Y/N waits underneath the dropship, waiting for a rescue she doesn’t think will come. Thankfully, she’s wrong.

Warnings: Gore, swearing, the usual

Notes: Yes, yes, yes, it’s finally out. Tbh I wanted to make you guys wait even longer because I was sick of y’all hassling me (please remember that I’m in school) but I was able to put my pettiness aside. Hope you enjoy this chapter! I love the way I’ve written this season and I can’t wait for you guys to see it.

She held her breath as footsteps creaked against the empty floor of the dropship. She waited, clutching the jacket closer to her as she glanced up, the grounder's feet frozen right on top of her. A shot rang out, causing her to flinch and a thud above her. She pushed the grate above her open as she locked eyes with a now alive Raven.

"Oh thank god" Y/N whispered, wanting to cry of relief. The two women snapped to attention as more footsteps were heard on the door of the dropship.

"Get back down" Raven mouthed, using the gun to gesture downward toward the hole. Y/N nodded, halting when she saw the dirty face of John Murphy emerge from behind the curtain.

Raven brandished her gun, pointing it at the traitor, getting ready to fire. With all he had put them through, she couldn't say she blamed her.

"Whoa it's okay," Murphy called, looking more fearful than she had ever seen him before, "Raven don't shoot," He begging, his voice in the same tone she had used a day earlier, "please."

The two women locked eyes as a tense silence filled the cavity between them and the traitor. "Why not?" Raven asked, malice tainting her voice as she side-eyed him, "You shot me."

He had shot both of them. He had made them bleed.

A beat passed between the three of them.

Murphy eyed the gun.

Raven eyed Murphy.

Y/N eyed both of them.

Raven pulled the trigger, the gun clicking as a dud clanged against the floor. She tried again, the rifle clicking as disappointment settled over them. They were out of bullets.

A smirk crossed his face at the realization., sliding down the wall to join them on the floor, "Yeah I would've shot me too."

Y/N pulled herself up, the dull pain in her leg growing more excruciating as she plopped herself behind the workbench, her shoulder hitting Raven's as they leaned against each other.

"What are you doing here Murphy?" She asked, breathlessly, glaring at the man who had shot her in the leg.

"Dying," Was all he said as his muddy face locked on her and Raven's, "same as you"

"Speak for yourself" Raven shuffled herself to another side, her hip shifting underneath her.

Y/N shot a concerned look at her friend before shooting another scathing glare toward Murphy, "How many are left?" She nodded her head toward the dead grounder.

He stuck his teeth in between his teeth, annoyance flashing over his face, "None, you two fried them all," She let out a sigh of relief at the news, "this one’s alive because they left him behind to guard me" Murphy explained, touching his fresh wound. Y/N leaned her head back against the leg of the table, closing her eyes as her thoughts drifted to Clarke and Bellamy. She knew Clarke had made it, whoever had thrown the smoke had taken her, but Bellamy? She didn't even know if he survived the ring of fire. She didn’t even know if he was alive and it killed her.

Her chest erupted into phantom pains at the thought of never seeing him again. She never even got to tell him she loved him. She never even got to say goodbye. And now she might not ever will.

She was ripped from her thoughts by the sound of a coughing fit coming from behind her. Coming from Raven.

"Raven?!" Y/N panicked, crawling forward to help her bleeding friend. "Raven are you okay?"

Murphy crawled over, an urgent look on his face as he began to shout orders. "Lie her on her side, now!" He barked, Y/N pushing her resentment behind her as the two of them bonded together to save Raven from the fluid that was now draining out of her lungs. The crimson liquid splattered against the floor, staining the dropship. One question fell from her lips as the paralyzed girl stared at Murphy in shock. "Why are you helping us?"

A tense silence fell over the three of them as Murphy gulped.

"I don't wanna die alone."

The minutes seemed to agonize by, the three of them refusing to speak any words to each other as they waited helplessly for their friends to return. For Bellamy to return. She distracted herself by listening in on Raven and Murphy's conversations, the two having nothing but malice for each other.

"How'd you get to be such a dick, Murphy?"

A wry smirk crossed his face, biting his lip, "I'm sorry for shooting you," he apologized, cynicism dripping from his voice, "Is that what you want to hear?"

"Let me guess," Raven piped up, "Mommy and daddy didn't love you?"

Y/N watched as Murphy stared up at the ceiling, a mirthless chuckle escaping his lips before replying.

"No, they loved me."

She had a hard time hiding her shock at that news.

"What?" His tone turned dark, "Have trouble believing someone like me could actually come from an okay home?"

Y/N shook her head, not wanting to say anything to jeopardize the uneasy peace that existed between the three of them. Raven had no problem speaking up though.

"Tell me," The mechanic started, "How does a kid who's loved by his parents turn into a murdering psychopath?" Y/N caught the lingering resentment behind her anger, and she knew that Raven could only be thinking about her own mother.

"He gets the flu." Murphy replied, catching both girls by surprise, sniffing as he continued, "His father steals medicine that turns out wouldn't have helped anyway. Gets floated for it." He wiped his hand under his nose, "His mom starts drinking pretty heavily after that and the last thing she says before he finds her in a pool of his own vomit was that he killed his father." His glare moved from the steel floor to Raven's face, eyes shining.

Y/N felt her heart tug in sympathy, knowing exactly how it feels to blame someone else for the floating of a parent. Her eyes flickered towards Murphy, the intense anger fading somewhat as she realized an awful truth. She and Murphy had something in common.

Raven only had one thing to say.

"Boo-hoo."

Even if she felt bad for his circumstances, Y/N had to agree. She had lost her mom and dad, Wells, Charlotte, Marcus, Clarke, and now Bellamy. And she hadn't become a murderer. She hadn’t even become that much of an asshole.

"We’ve all lost people Murphy" She pointed out, grasping her leg as she hissed in pain, "Doesn't give you an excuse to be a dick."

He scoffed but didn't say anything more on the subject.

Silence fell over them again, this time the uneasy peace lasted a lot longer than she expected, broken only by the sound of footsteps arriving at the ship, all three of them too exhausted to reach for any weapons to defend themselves with. Instead, all Y/N could do was watch helplessly as Raven collapsed, her eyes drawing themselves shut, holding onto the pleasant memory of Bellamy's lips on her cheek as a smile crossed her face.

"Help them," Murphy's voice was far away, muffled as her head tilted to the side before getting caught in soft hands, the smell of morphine waking her up.

"Raven, Y/N, sweeties it's Abby." Dr. Griffin whispered, able to pull Y/N out of her slump before she ended up in a similar situation to Raven.

"Clarke's not here," Y/N breathed out, voice little more than a whisper, realization hitting her, "I don't know where she is."

She watched Abby's face crumble, pinpointing the exact moment the last bit of hope left her gaze. The doctor shook her head before returning back to the girls' injuries.

"Raven first" Y/N uttered weakly, the Doctor staring in shock at the both of them.

"What happened to you two?" Abby asked, disbelief rife in her voice.

Raven and Y/N shared a look, both understanding what each other was saying. "We got shot." Raven announced, the two girls flickering their gaze toward Murphy, "We got shot."

***

Bellamy paced back and forth, glaring at the two guards Kane had left with him and Finn. He had sent them down here. He had raised this camp with nothing. He and Y/N both. And now Kane wanted to shove them to the side now that the council was down to the ground.

He shot a knowing stare at Finn before approaching the guards once more, trying fruitlessly to get back into their camp.

"You're not going anywhere" Sgt. Scott announced, brandishing the shock baton. Finn nodded his head to the right, and Bellamy understood perfectly. The two delinquents lunged for the west foxhole, crawling through the dirt and away from the Ark's gaze as they stared down at the wreckage, a small hint of pride rushing through Bellamy at the thought of Y/N barbecuing the grounders after all.

Y/N.

She was here. She had to be.

Except there was no sign of her anywhere. Finn clapped a hand against his shoulder in reassurance, "She'll be in the dropship" He told him, "We saw her go in."

"What if she didn’t make it?" Bellamy swallowed his fears down his throat, biting the inside of his cheek as he stared at the ashy skeletons crunching beneath his feet. "What if--what if she's dead?"

His words caught in his throat, choking themselves as they left his lips, water bubbling near the surface of his eyes, Finn moving closer to tell him otherwise.

"She made it Bellamy," He told the older leader, determined to make sure no one else crumbled. The two of them had to stay strong. For Clarke. For Y/N.

Bellamy's blood boiled as he caught the familiar voice of the traitor who had hung him leaving the dropship. The traitor that had almost killed him. The traitor that had almost killed Y/N.

"Murphy!" Bellamy's rage unleashed itself on the delinquent, ignoring the disapproving glare from Kane on his back. "You son of a bitch," He tackled Murphy to the ground, landing hit after hit as his emotions spilled outward from him, "You tried to kill her! You tried to kill me! You almost killed everyone in this camp!" All Bellamy saw was red as Murphy's weak body refused to fight back, his bloodied face garnering more bruises from the amount of punches Bellamy had thrown at him. Electricity burned through his torso, setting his pain receptors on fire as Kane took a shock baton to the older delinquent.

"You are under arrest for violating the Ark code and Law," Kane stated plainly, nothing hidden in his cold voice. "Cuff them" He instructed the Sgt.

"You don't understand," Finn rushed to defend Bellamy, "Murphy killed two people in our camp, he hung Bellamy. He shot--"

"You don't understand" Kane bellowed, gritting his teeth as he glared at the two delinquents, "You are not in control here anymore."

"What the hell are you doing?" Bellamy froze at the voice, relief flooding through him as he realized who was standing in front of him. Alive.

"Y/N--" Kane moved forward, caught off guard by the sight of her limping past him, shooting him a glare before throwing her arms around Bellamy, the older leader melting into the embrace, nestling his head into the crevice of her neck, inhaling the earthy smell that surrounded her.

"I knew you couldn't be dead," She whispered in his ear before pulling away, a wide smile written on her face. Bellamy couldn't believe it. If it wasn't for the restraints clamped around his wrists he would've reached up to make sure she was really in front of him.

"You're alive?" He asked, laughter released from his mouth as she nodded in assurance. "I can't believe it."

She brushed her fingers against his chin before standing up, all softness disappearing from her frame as she faced her adoptive father.

***

A year. One full year since she had been locked up and not so much as a birthday or Christmas card. One full year since Marcus had her dragged away to solitary, ready to float her if she didn't go to Earth.

He stepped forward, hands up in a position of surrender, his voice soft as he spoke his daughter's name. "Y/N--"

"Why is he tied up?" She shot back at him, not wanting to exchange pleasantries.

"What?"

"You heard me" She crossed her arms, trying to keep her anger in check as she clenched her jaw, gesturing toward the delinquent she had come to care for over the past month. "Why is he tied up?"

Kane refused to dignify her question was a response, and Y/N knew exactly where she stood once again. The adopted black-blood, needing to be kept safe from the horrors of the world. Kane shuffled closer, his mouth near her ear as he began to scold quietly, "We'll talk about this later."

She turned to face him, narrowing her eyes at him, "No, we won't."

She hastily turned back to Bellamy, groaning in pain as her leg burned from trying to crouch down.

"You need surgery" Abby pointed out, carrying Raven out of the dropship on a stretcher, "Both of you do, when we get back you guys go straight to medical, understand?"

Y/N nodded, following the guard back, holding Raven's hand. Her glare warned off any soldiers that felt the need to steer Bellamy away from her side, the two finally having some time to themselves.

"Hell of a reunion." Bellamy teased, referring to Y/N and Marcus. "You sure you're okay?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, staring forward into the forest, holding on tight to Raven's weakening grip. "I'm fine," Her hard exterior melted away as her eyes met his big brown ones, walls crumbling once again. "I'm really glad you're okay though." She admitted, wishing she could grasp Bellamy's hand in her own. "I meant it when I said I needed you to live."

A small smile tugged on the soldier's lips at the memory. "I'm glad you're alive." He replied, glancing at the bandage around her leg. "I would've gone to hell for you too."

Their smiles lit up a warmth inside her, the pleasant shivers returning as the blood rushed to her cheeks, both oblivious to the glare Kane was sending from behind them.

Alpha Station gleamed in the sunlight, the sight sending relief through her system. She released Raven's hand as she limped forward, breathing heavily as she raced toward the one adult more important in her life than her mother.

Y/N collapsed into Sinclair's arms, closing her eyes before exhaling into the engineering Chief, his grip tightening as he pulled his top prodigy closer to him.

"You're alive!" She exclaimed jubilantly, tears threatening to escape.

Sinclair nodded, pulling out of the embrace and giving her his first order, "Yes, and as your new Engineering chief, I order you to head to Medical and fix that leg, we need you here."

She brought her hands up to her forehead in a mock salute, "Yes, sir."

She smiled to herself as Abby escorted her to the med tent, finally feeling like she was back home.

Again! Please remember that I am in school, I have a life, and I’m also working on several other projects.

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