#IS THAT CHILDE'S BLOOD OR HIS ENEMIES??? WHO KNOWS MAN!!!! IS HE BEING DRAMATIC??? MAYBE!

[pridetorn]

@foulwaters​​​​​ sought:  “  Am I going to die?  ”  /  heyhey hjey kiwi

she  could  remember  the  first  time  she’d  been  asked,  an  ingenue  enraptured  by  that  ever  hungry  yearning  for  more,  more,  more  knowledge,  discoveries,  the  world  at  the  tip  of  moon  swept  fingers    —    naivete  clinging  to  the  curves  of  her  hands,  wide  eyes,  and  oh,  how  ignorant  she  was  to  it  all;  just  a  junior  apprentice,  midway  into  her  studies  and  but  a  young  teen,  all  overconfidence  and  clueless  challenges  as  if  she  could  have  known,  as  if  her  mentor  might  have  prepared  her  more  ‘fore  the  eve  that  the  challenge  was  uttered  forth,  reticent  acceptance  and  the  question  was  asked.  it  was  there  that  effervescent  vigor  met  a  stare  so  unbidden,  withering  and  heartbreaking  all  at  once,  and  she  saw    —    oh,  mona  foresaw  that  which  shook  her  to  the  core,  brief  glimpses,  faded  and  warped  and  harrowing  all  the  same.  she’d  avoided  her  mentor  for  weeks  after  the  fact,  gaze  cast  aside  lest  she  lay  privy  to  a  sight  most  unwanted. 

for  it  was  no  easy  feat  to  read  so  brusquely  into  one’s  future,  to  read  the  heavens  and  unfurl  the  soul  like  open  windows  to  an  unwelcome  home.  to  see  one’s  path  come  to  a  halt  offered  no  comfort  to  the  heart  nor  mind,  and  though  she  was  no  longer  a  stranger  to  the  sight  of  death  at  the  behest  of  ignorant  travelers,  no  more  a  child  tactless  and  naive,  there  was  nothing  that  could  ever  prepare  her  and  there  never  would  be.  death  was  a  constant,  an  inevitability,  she  knew  so  and  yet  despite,  despite,  despite  she  refused  to  harden  herself  in  the  face  of  it  for  she  feared  her  gaze  might  one  day  match  the  same  broken  stare  of  hers,  no  matter  how  gut  wrenching  the  sight  she’d  never  turn  to  stone.

dread  had  an  unfortunate  way  of  snaking  through  the  lungs  like  salt  water  swallowed,  encompassing  and  suffocating  all  at  once.  shaky  breaths  fall  from  pale  lips,  a  beautiful  contrast  to  the  red,  all  the  red  that  coated  the  cool  expanse  of  gloved  fingers  and  stained  the  blue  of  her,  stained  his  fiery  tufts  and  the  warm  ground  beneath,  a  macabre  display  laid  garishly  before  her    —    and  with  unsteady  hands,  sea  glass  eyes  which  flittered  ‘tween  him  and  the  illusory  constellation  that  withheld  every  celestial  wonder  with  each  unnervingly  calm  ripple  ‘cross  sign  and  star,  she  witnessed  it.  brief,  ever  so  brief,  faint,  distorted,  but  enough,  enough  to  know  it  wasn’t  here,  today  the  weary  may  not  rest.  another  day,  may  he  stand.

❝  not    —    not  here,  you  will  live  another  twilight.  had    —    had  i  not  teleported  us  out  of  that  disast    —    ❞,  frustration  laces  itself  ‘tween  each  gasped  out  syllable,  a  hollowed  crescendo  of  slow  agitation  and  adrenaline.  huffed,  breathless,  sighs  mask  trembling  fingers  with  a  bravado  she’s  all  too  familiar  to  envelop  herself  in,  and  she  harshly  tugs  off  stained  gloves  to  wipe  at  sweat  stained  brows;  pallid  digits  shortly  running  through  dark  strands  to  soothe  and  fix,  distressed  stare  nothing  short  of  burning  holes  into  the  mussed  earth,  unable  to  meet  his,  unwilling.  a  cold  comparison  to  the  fury  that  laid  heavy  on  her  tongue.

❝     —     disasterous  mess,  though  i’m  sure  you’re  aware.  are  you  that  hungry  for  battle  ?  do    —    do  you  not  think,  is  your  blade  where  all  logic  lies  ?  imbecile.  you  should  be  on  your  knees    —    groveling,  had  it  not  been  for  i,  we    —    i  might  not  have  survived.  when  will  you  learn  that  death  is  no  game  you  can  play,  you  may  not  have  died  here  but  it    —    it  is  inevitable,  it  will  come  and  raze  earth,  sky  and  flesh  alike.  do  not  think  for  a  second  you  are  exempt.    ❞

[bokettochild]

Day 4 - Trust Fall

Went with the prompt 'taken hostage' for this one, and I'm quite pleased. I might follow it up from another prompt on the list, but I quite like how it ended.

Suffer :)

There are many people who hate the Hero of Warriors.

It was a well-known fact, and something that had haunted him since the ends of the war, but he couldn’t exactly blame the folks who did. After all, it was for lust of the hero that Cia had killed so many, and there were families all across Hyrule who had lost loved ones because the hero had refused the affections of one lonely, corrupted woman.

Zelda had tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but that changed nothing; people had still died because of Cia’s lust, and still more had died because of his own over-confidence. So, when he walked the streets of Castletown and the people who wanted to thank him faded to the background as a single soul would stand and spit insults loaded with venom more poisonous than a deku baba, he would take their words and let them speak, never once challenging them, even when his men would protest and beg for permission to reprimand his attacker. Zelda had pleaded for him to stop, claiming that he lowered the moral of the army by not carrying himself strongly and with honor, but how could he rob someone of their voice when he’d already robbed them of everything else?

There was one upside to it all though; when Warriors met Legend, there was nothing the younger hero could say that could truly hurt him. Legend would huff and complain and tease and jab, but his insults were a gentle nudge in comparison to the hearty shoves into boiling lava that he’d seen from his own people, and he welcomed the verbal sparring with the other hero. It was nice to be able to speak back without having guilt rise in his chest, and he enjoyed getting to tease and bother the veteran hero in return.

In that manner, an unlikely friendship had formed between a hero who hated soldiers and a soldier who hated being a hero.

He was close to all of the others of course; Sky, Wild and himself would spend hours discussing their worlds and the systems of knights and training and the like. Time and Wind, his boys and the pride of his heart, would mess around with him and it warmed him body and soul to offer them advice or comfort after a long day (and having the two of them cuddle up when they thought no one was looking was an extra warm bonus on multiple fronts).

Four was- well, there was no words for the relationship he shared with the smithy. It was a relationship of exchanged looks and mutual silence. One of two brothers who knew each other as well as if they’d actually been born to the same mother, and who could read the others actions as if they were reading their thoughts. It was them flopping over each other and Four climbing onto his shoulders to reach things, it was him throwing the smithy bodily up towards high places and leaning on the top of his head when he was drained or feeling playful.

Wild and Hyrule were his baby brothers, the chaotic ones who he was helping to bring up right, the boys who needed a guiding hand and a firm voice to push them and guide them, but who reveled in warm hugs and teasing or encouraging words.

And Twilight? Twilight was his sparring partner, his closest brother and the one he’d probably end up socking in the face one day. There was enough said on that front. Legend very nearly made the same rank, except...

Except Legend was, truth be told, as much a kid as the others and despite their verbal battles, he didn’t think he could actually ever hit the kid for real, no matter how often he cuffed the pink head or pushed the short vet over in jest, he didn’t think he could ever cause the younger hero harm. Yeah, yeah, so maybe it was the big brother and father in him that said he wouldn’t live with himself if he hurt the kid, but it was also the soldier and captain that saw a reflection of every cocky recruit he’d ever trained and a certain mask wearing child in the vet’s painfully rare smiles and much more common snarky comments.

And he just couldn’t bring himself to hurt a kid in the first place.

No matter how much of an ass they were being.

“Seriously though, how have you not died?” Legend was scoffing, but the vet’s arms were wrapped tight around himself as the kid rolled his eyes. “I mean, one bokoblin? How is that the first time an enemy has ever grabbed your scarf?”

Warriors would have laughed it off with a tease about the vet’s lack of leg protection, but he could see the worry shining in violet hues and feel the tender bruising that wrapped around his own neck. He hardly remembered the last battle, adrenalin and the concussion had seen to that, but legend had been weirdly snappish with him since, yet simultaneously clingy in a way that was painfully uncharacteristic of their salty veteran. “Most monsters are just dumb.” He’d shrugged off at last, but Legend hardly looked contented, picking at his tunic and scowling at his boots as if there was something more he wanted to complain about or say, but he lacked the words to say it.

Oh goddesses, the vet really was like Mask, wasn’t he? All bashful worry and fussing disguised as insults and annoyance, but underneath just a kid who desperately needed the assurance that the people around him weren’t seconds away from death.

“I’ll be fine, you grouchy little bumblebee.” He scoffed, tugging at one of the vet’s long ears, just as he did with Time when the now older hero was getting to wrapped up in his head. “We’re in my world anyway and the monsters here are dumber than rocks.” Usually he’d just say ‘dumb as rocks’ but they’d met a talus in Wild’s Hyrule and he couldn’t honestly think of that phrase the same way since.

“Black blood makes them smarter.” Legend huffed, batting his hands away with a scowl, nose wrinkling up in an almost adorable manner as he sidestepped a swipe at his hair. “And I just fixed that thing for you, I don’t want to have to do that again.”

So much like Time had been, did the vet see it? Just like his middle kid and it was messing with his brain in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. How upset would Sky be if he gathered Legend in amongst his boys as well? The Skyloftian wasn’t particularly possessive of his descendants and he might not mind sharing responsibility over the vet. He’d have to ask, but only once he was sure Legend was out of earshot, the kid was barely tolerant of Sky coddling him, and even then, usually only when he was sleepy or scared shitless.

“Are you listening, Captain? I’m not mending that scarf again this week, you ass.” Legend flicked his ears, irritation at being ignored coloring his face with a scowl that quickly faded into surprise as a blue heap of fabric settled over his head and shoulders. Of course, the surprise disappeared too once Legend’s face was covered with the tail end of the scarf, and he had to grab the back of the vet’s tunic to stop him from tumbling to the ground as he tripped over the rocky path.

“What the heck, Wars?!” The teen squeaked, fumbling with the fabric as the captain let a laugh rumble up through his chest into his throat.

“You keep fussing about the scarf, yeah? Well,” He reached out to tug the loose end down, chest thrumming with warmth as the pout on Legend’s face beneath the scarf and a fierce blush. “So how about you keep it safe for me, just for a bit.” He shifted the fabric again, arranging it to lay better around the veteran’s thin shoulders. “You can give it back after the next battle, yeah? Then you’ll know it’s not damaged.”

The pink-haired hero rolled his eyes at that comment, but Wars didn’t miss how the kid nestled in amidst the blue fabric with a soft hum.

Oh yeah, despite all the teasing, it was clear Legend liked the scarf as much as his other boys. He hoped Sun and Sky didn’t mind sharing too much, because there was no going back now.

“Dramatic arse.” Legend huffed, but despite the vet tugging the scarf up over his nose and mouth he still saw the grin the lay beneath.

Somewhere behind him, he could hear Time and Wind exchanging whispers while Twilight grumbled something exceedingly rude and fond all at once.

“Should we split up to find supplies then?” Sky asked, pointedly ignoring Twilight’s comment as he addressed the group as a whole, earning a thoughtful nod from Time.

“Probably best.” The man hummed out. “Groups of three, Hyrule and Wind, you’re with the vet, Four and Sky, you’re with Wars, Cub, Pup, I want you two with me, if something happens I want a responsible adult on every team, as well as someone who knows this Castletown well.”

Agreement thrummed over them as they split up, Wind catching his party members by their hands and pulling them off towards the tailor and apothecary shops so Legend could restock on thread and fabric and Hyrule could gather more healing supplies. Time’s group turned the opposite way, heading off into the main market square so Wild could restock on food stuffs and a new haversack for the traveler as Hyrule’s had had a hole worn in the corner that even Four doubted he could fix. Warriors himself led his team towards the fletchers and the forge, with the intent of buying more arrows and getting Four permission to repair a few of their weapons.

The chatter of the town was cheerier than usual, and to his surprise, not a single person spoke to him beyond the occasional inquiry about directions or an apology or insult after bumping into them. It was like he was invisible, or very nearly, and even those who made a point of calling out thanks or insults only waved cheerily to him as if he was just another passing soldier.

At the smithy, the Master Smithy, Gaepak, blinked in surprise for a good minute when Wars had approached to ask for use of the workroom. “Gen’ral? Is ‘at yew?”

He cocked a brow at the question. “Yes? Is there a problem?”

Gaepak boomed a nervous laugh, motioning to his own short neck with a faint flush on his face as his ears twitched lightly. “’Ard to tell you apart from yer men wit’out that scaaf of yers.” The man apologized, and the apprentice at the blacksmith’s side nodded nervously.

He couldn’t help back slip into a disarming smile (although he had to fight not to slip into their heavy accent as well when he spoke). “Quite alright, gentlemen. I’ve just let it out to one of-”

“Yer boys.” the smith nodded knowingly, earning a snigger from their own short-statured smithy and a light chuckle from Sky.

Warriors flushed slightly. Really, the people of Castletown knew him too well. “Yes, one of my boys.”

“An’ a moighty fine father ye are.” Gaepak drawled with a grin. “Use the forge ta yer ‘eart’s content.” The smith added, moving back to his own workstation with a cheery wink. “Jist moind ye clean it up when ya done.”

Four had shouted something of a reassurance before moving to the offered work station with shining hazel eyes and fingers already flitting over the available tools to familiarize himself with them. In the meantime, Sky had shot him a knowing smile, eyes twinkling as the captain had flushed softly.

Four was deep into his work and the two of them had already finished a lengthily talk and a trip to the fletchers when Wind and Hyrule had burst in, heavy breaths heaving through the two and a healthy flush over two sets of rounded cheeks as wild eyes had turned to the two adults.

“Wind, you can’t bust into a forge! Four shouted over the clang of metal. “It’s dang-”

“Legend was kidnapped.” Wind blurted out, voice strained and barely holding onto the collected and controlled report method Warriors had drilled into all of his soldiers during the war.   Four’s hammer froze mid-air as the three had whipped around to face the two younger heroes, both knights stiffening instinctively as all laughter left their faces.

“What happened.” Warriors demanded, stepping forwards, jaw set and eyes hard as he met the sailor’s wavering gaze.

The aura of peace faded in instants, and soldier met the eyes of soldier as Wind snapped a neat salute. Unnecessary, yes, but trained into the kid by the other soldiers and probably a comforting sort of habit to revert to in the moment (Warriors felt the same about standing at parade rest as he listened to the kid’s report). “We were just entering the apothecary when a couple of folks approached Legend outside the door. He waved us inside to do our business while they talked, and Hyrule and I did as he asked. We gathered the needed supplies- that doesn’t matter though- the point is, when we were at the counter ringing up-”

“There was shouting outside!” Hyrule interrupted, fingering the strap of his faded satchel. “We thought it was just Legend being Legend, you know how he is but-”

“But then there was something of a scuffle and some bangin-”

“- and when we finished at the counter, because the man wouldn’t hurry up and refused to let us leave ‘till we’d been rung up-”

“Legend was gone!” Wind exploded, eyes shining with near panic as they met his own.

“Where were you exactly?” Wars demanded, mind already flitting across the list of people who were likely to have taken the vet. There weren’t many people the kid would have interacted with here, especially not alone, and saving the soldiers he’d accidentally embarrassed a couple of switches back (kid needed to wear some pants if he didn’t want to mistook for a girl) there wasn’t anyone he could really think of that would have cause to try anything. Sure, Legend’s winning personality might earn him a blow to the face from some of the rowdier townsfolk, but at worst he’d be left on the street on in an alley with a bruised face and a fractured rib or two, not taken away entirely.

As he considered, Four was already tidying up behind him only to have Gaepak wave them off with a worried look. “Moi boys will see to this ‘ere mess, don’t botha. Yew got a kid missin’ you go fetch ‘im, goodness knows Gen’ral that yew don’t need to be suff’rin’ that again.”

It was a bitter reminder, but he’d nodded his thanks all the same and grabbed ahold of Wind’s hand as he led the charge back into the street, Hyrule and Sky tagging along as Four made arrangements to come back later for the still cooling weapons before scampering out after them.

Searching Castletown’s streets would take hours, but after they’d run into one of his men, Bav, he’d filled the soldier in on the situation, and hardly had the words ‘my kid’ been out of his mouth before the other was nodding and agreeing to get the rest of the squadron to search the town. They’d found the others not long after, and the trio had dropped everything (even Wild’s slate for a hot second) to come rushing after them, their now two groups weaving in and out of alleyways and streets.

“Your wife?” A painfully familiar farm-wife had tutted. “First your poor daughter and now your poor wife. I’m sorry, luv, but I haven’t seen a thing.” Wind had crooked a smile at the groan Warriors had barely stifled as he led their group away, Sky and Hyrule both staring at the duo in confusion as they pressed further into the crowd.

Continued asking had brought up nothing, and after hours of trotting through the streets in a growing panic, Sky at his side and Hyrule nearly fluttering along with them, they’d finally been pulled aside by one of the soldiers and made to sit down in a guard-station long enough to drink some water and be caught up on the soldiers’ findings.

“Nothing yet, General Link, but we’ll keep looking. Until then, you should take a rest-” He’d moved to protest only to be cut off by a frown from one of his mates. “You’ll be run ragged by the time we hear word, and if the scamps intend harm of any sort, you’ll be in no state to help.”

He’d had to agree after that, but it hadn’t stopped him pacing while Sky held the other two close, rocking them softly and humming soft reassurances to the two smaller heroes that he’d bundled in his cape. The other four joined shortly after, Time demanding that Bav tell him what was happening and Twilight bundling over to grab Hyrule from Sky and curl up around him, the rancher’s nose buried in Hyrule’s curls as Four had settled between him and Sky, the smithies callused hands gently rubbing both their arms as he murmured soft reassurances to the others.

It was Wild that pulled him down to rest, flinty blue eyes sparking dangerously as the kid pulled him down to the ground and thrust something edible into his hands. Vaguely, he processed eating it, but his mind was too lost in spinning to take note if it was hot or cold or even what it tasted like.

When word finally came, it was with Bav’s face drawn and the entire guard having had to leave the post in wake of the nervous energy that flowed out from the exhausted heroes.

“Well?” He’d snapped to his feet, jostling Wild on accident as he did so and making the kid nearly toppled over with his sudden movement.

“An ultimatum, General.” Bav replied, clipped and carefully emotionless, even if there was pain in his eyes. “It’s addressed to General Impa, but-”

The note was snatched from waiting fingers before the other soldier had a chance to finish, and he was already breaking the seal as the man stepped back with a shake of his head and a murmured ‘poor man’.

The text that stared up at him stank, copper assaulting his senses as looping crimson script stared mockingly up at him. “General Impa,” The note read. “We have in our possession your branded puppet; the ‘hero’ of the war. We write to you now with a warning; should Hyrule and her queen not repay the debt owed to those fallen and forgotten, he will not be the first to pay the price.

“Repay that which is due, and release the prisoners who you hold unjustly under the claim of treachery. If this is done, your ‘hero’ will meet a kinder fate, and we may even allow you access to the corpse.”

The note was left unsigned, save a spattering of blood over where the signature ought to have been.

“A threat.” He choked, furrowing his brow and shaking his head. “It’s only a threat.”

“I wish, sir.” Bav’s eyes were downcast. “But they sent this as well.” A bundle, already unwrapped by the soldiers was offered to him. “But based on your description, that kid- I'm sorry, Sir.”

Trembling fingers tore aside the stained brown paper as he stared at the contents within.

A blood-soaked blue scarf stared back up at him.

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

This was originally a fake fic but I decided to turn it into a real fic because it looked like fun, The fake fic can be read as a prologue. 

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Chapter 1 

Previous (prologue)     Next Chapter 2

When Roman had first left home, he had no intention of making friends.

Romulus had never had them, unless you counted Remus in their younger days. Royal life was often one of seclusion and once his… particular problem… had come to light, his parents  took the necessary steps to ensure he was as isolated from others as possible.

This was for his own good. Romulus could not protect himself. Romulus was a liability to the himself and the Kingdom. One slip before a supposed playmate could lead to discovery and disaster. His father explained this to him when Romulus was eleven, and had taken to following the young Marquis de Orenlla around like a love sick puppy when the family visited the palace.

“Suppose that boy notices,” his fathers voice was a hiss, his hand gripping Romulus small shoulder hard enough to bruise “suppose he realises you will do anything he asks, and he asks you for family secrets? Suppose he waits until your are older and orders you to favour his family, to give them position in court, to promote them above their deserved station- or to harm their enemies. Do you understand the risk you’re taking Romulus? Swear to me you will keep to yourself. Please.”

Phrasing, Romulus had come to learn, was extraordinarily important when dealing with his curse. The final ‘please’ from his father had turned the order into a request – something Romulus could technically choose to ignore. But the grip on his shoulder suggested it would not remain his choice for long. So he nodded at his father and swore to keep away and was rewarded with a smile and a hand stroking gently though his hair, before he was dismissed to go and study before his afternoon lessons.

He should have been lonely. But he had his parents and his instructors and his servants. And the occasional, highly orchestrated, public appearance wherein he would adopt a practiced air of aloof politeness, wave and make measured conversation with those who would never dare to give him an order. It could have been worse.

Still, he understood that once he left it would be necessary to speak to many more people then he had up to now. He would need food and shelter and work and direction, none of which he had had to procure for himself before.

So he prepared himself to make conversation with strangers, perhaps acquire acquaintances. He expected to find admirers once he was far South enough that he could perform with his lute without fear of recognition from the crowd. He hoped, perhaps, for some romances, some temporary but dashing companions to join him on adventures. He had read about such things during hours spent locked up in the palace library and told to entertain himself.  

He had not planned on making friends. Traveling with anyone for too long, getting to know them and allowing them to learn about him – it inevitably increased the chance of them discovering his secret. Of exploiting him as his parents had warned against. It was not worth the risk.

And yet.

And yet somehow, he had acquired three.

Virgil and Patton and Logan.

Brave and kind and wise.

Not a drop of aristocratic blood between them but without doubt the most noble companions a man could wish for. When he thought of them, of how they had accepted him into their little band of misfit adventurers, his heart felt more full, his mind more alive and sharp than it had been in years. His blood buzzed with creativity and songs of friendship, love and loyalty sprang from his lips almost unbidden.

Not right now however.

Right now sort of wanted to kill them. Specifically Virgil.

Roman scowled at the surrounding trees “If there are any depressingly dressed half elves out there who want to APPOLOGISE for being JERKS the floor is open!” he called.

The trees remained silent. They had done that the last three times he tried.

Roman left out a dramatic exhale and flopped back on the ground.

The thing was. He knew, intellectually, that this wasn’t Virgil’s fault. Not Intentionally.  

Virgil was prickly. And unpredictable. Last night, Roman had wailed in dismay at the sorry state for a fire the young man was building. Virgil had responded that they would be lucky if there was no fire at all, since that would mean no one would have to be subjected to Romans cooking. Roman had insulted Virgil’s hair. Virgil had made a creative suggestion for where Roman could stick the firewood he was holding.  And back and forth the insults went until between them they had built up the fire and set the stew boiling upon it.

It was banter. Virgil had been giggling the whole time, Patton hadn’t interjected once to tell them to be nicer.

And then this evening they’d gone hunting for firewood together. And Roman had made some sly remark, hoping that Virgil’s fire building skills had improved somewhat overnight.

And Virgil had turned round and snarled at him to “shut UP Princy. I don’t need you to help me – just, just get lost.”

Virgil didn’t know about the curse.

Romans mouth had dropped open in surprise. And before he’s had time to close it, his feet had spun round one hundred and eighty degrees and marched him away from his friend, away from the path, deeper into the heart of the forest.

His feat had carried him on a winding route, over one shallow stream and through an extremely dense thicket of brambles that left Roman desperately hacking away at the thorns in front of him before they could shred him to ribbons. He had eventually stopped after an hour of relentless marching and sprawled at the foot of an impressively knotted oak tree.

Unsurprisingly, his surroundings were totally unfamiliar. The trees grew so thick here it was impossible to see more than twelve feet in any direction. He was well and truly lost.

Roman had spent an unsatisfying few minutes ranting to the trees about elves and their unpredictable mood swings and marching and blisters and curses and Virgil’s still subpar fire lighting skills until eventually he had run out of steam and settled himself down for a good sulk.

Phrasing was important. Virgil had told him to get lost but he hadn’t said to stay lost. And now that he was lost, there was nothing to prevent him being found again.

Patton was an excellent tracker. The idea of sitting around waiting to be rescued stung Roman’s pride, but his feat had already been aching from the days travel before his unintended march. His stomach growled, the smattering of cuts from the brambles burned, and evening was already turning to night. The most sensible thing to do was for Roman to stay where he was and wait to be found.

Assuming they wanted to find him.

Roman bit his lip sharply to try and banish that line of thought. They wouldn’t leave him.

Although, he drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees to fend off the evening chill, There was a strong chance they wouldn’t find him tonight. Patton had looked exhausted when Virgil and Roman and left on their hunt for firewood, in fact he’d been falling behind all day and –

Oh.

Patton and Virgil were born in Krutova and Finaley’ed respectively. Two small neighbouring kingdoms, politically insignificant and famous only for their densely forested landscapes and their intense dedication to wiping each other off the face of the Earth. For the past eighteen years bloody war had raged between the two. Roman had never asked directly, but he was fairly certain that this  conflict was where Patton had acquired his enormous broadsword, his limp and, quite possibly, Virgil.

Neither of them liked forests. They carried extra tension as soon as they stood under the shadows of the trees. In addition to that, the uneven terrain aggravated Patton’s hip, sometimes leaving him hissing between his teeth with every step.

Roman had been walking up front with Logan all day, arguing the merits of modern Raspanzean poetry compared with the old masters. He had thought they had called a halt to the day a little early, but was tired enough himself not to question it. And really, since he and Virgil had been on fire and cooking duty last night it should have fallen to the others today…but Virgil had scampered into the woods as soon as Patton was settled on his bed roll, and Roman had gone chasing after.

Virgil fretted. He fretted after all of them, but Patton most of all. And Roman had chased after him when he was already stressed about his best friend and then started needling him about his fire making skills.

Roman groaned and pressed his face into his knees.

Maybe he was the jerk.

“It sounds like it.”

Roman sighed, hating the whine in his voice as he replied “but he still shouldn’t have taken it out on –“

Romans head snapped up so fast he hit his skull hard against the oak tree behind him. Wincing he twisted his head left and right, but the area remained deserted.

He frowned. Perhaps he was more exhausted than he thought –

“You certainly are over tired little Prince,” Roman made a sound which he refused to think of as a shriek  and scrambled to his feet.

Standing not three feet- two feet – five feet- three feet from him, stood – hovered - sat – stood a figure in – black – yellow- black – shadow – gold - black. He- she – it – he? Laughed sweetly and stepped – slunk – prowled – flew – stepped closer

And drew back abruptly as Roman held up his dagger between them.

Roman’s sword was the best he could buy, made of blended steel with a bronze handle. He cleaned and sharpened it religiously and practiced often. It was beautifully made and perfectly balanced, suitable for a solider but ideal for a traveller in who knew how to use it.

Romans dagger was old and brittle. And more than once Logan had tried to surreptitiously throw it out and convince him to replace it with something usable.

But it was made of pure iron and it kept the scowling fae at bay.

Looking directly at the fae made something in Romans stomach twist. But he kept his eyes at a squint and held the dagger firm between them, even as his arms shook from the effort.

“What do you want from me?” he gritted out

“What do I want?” The fae’s face would not quite settle, the edges shifting and billowing, but when he smiled Roman was certain he saw fangs “You’re the one trespassing in my home, little Prince, I should be asking you”

Suddenly the fae was as close as he could come, his face less than an inch from the daggers edge. Up close, Roman could see two eyes clearly, one black and one pulsating with a sickly yellow light. “Come to make a deal with the devil, Princey?”

Roman squeezed his eyes shut and held himself firm, even as the shaking began to spread over his entire body.

“I am. A. Lost. Traveller.” He gasped out “I. mean. No. disrespect. To you. Or. Your court” for what felt like an eternity the shaking continued, rattling his brain and sending one knee crashing to the floor. And then it stopped.

Hesitantly, Roman cracked one eye open and looked up. The fae had, mercifully, settled its form. It had picked a face identical to Romans own, save for the yellow eye and scales that spread over its left side. A cloak of shadows hid most of its body from view, but when it moved towards Roman now it seemed to slither rather than step.

“You mean no disrespect” it nodded towards the dagger still clutched in Roman’s sweaty hands “but your bring a weapon to my home?”

“it is a shield, my lord, not a sword, despite it’s shape”

The fae harrumphed, a disconcertingly human noise, and circled Roman once. “You’re not from around here.”

“I’m lost, my lord.”

“I know that” The fae stopped in front of Roman again and rolled it’s eyes. “I meant you are not one of the town folk who trespass in my wood so regularly. You know how to speak to me.”

Roman opened his mouth to say ‘in my fathers Kingdom the Fae are welcomed, and representatives of the Saelie court attend each ball and function’ but managed to snap it closed before he made a sound. Rule one for dealing with the Fae, even those considered allies, was not to give them any information that they didn’t already know. “You flatter me my lord” he said instead.

Roman still hadn’t moved from his half kneeling pose and now the fae coiled down so that they were once again face to face. “Most humans in your position” he said, “would have already started begging for a deal to relive them of their…little problems. What’s the matter Princey, curse got your tongue?”

Roman couldn’t help the way his heart rate sped up at the faes words. But he did his best to keep his outward face calm. It was true, the first deliberate order he had received when his curse was discovered was to never talk about it, he couldn’t have brought it up to this fae if he wanted to.

But more than that – the fae who allied themselves with his father’s court had done everything in their power to remove the curses from him and his brother. Nothing had worked. “A gift once given can only be taken back by the gifter” an elder sprite in the guise of a kindly woman had told his mother. “And their gifter is unlikely to return here.”

The gifter was also unlikely to be a snake shaped creature tied to a southern forest. “I want nothing from you my lord, except to be allowed to leave your home” Roman intoned honestly.  He had wondered, for a moment, when the creature had called him Princey – but Virgil and the others often called him by that nickname. If this was a lord of the forest he could have heard them  when they passed by.

The fae stared at him for a long moment. And smiled. “Liar.”

Roman frowned – “what-“

“Roman!”

Roman jerked his head to the side, the shout had come from close by, he was sure. “Pa-Padre?”

A whisper in his ear: “time to go home Roman.” Roman quickly looked back to the fae, but it was gone. On the ground where it had been, lay a single oak leaf dyed a brilliant, autumnal, yellow.

He didn’t need to look up at the oak trees leaves to know they, like every other tree in the forest, were still a vibrant green.

“Roman! Roman are you here?”

Without much conscious thought, he reached forward and snatched up the yellow leaf, burying it deep in his pocket.

“I’M HERE. Patton? Virgil? I’M OVER HERE”

Within minuets all seven foot of Patton was crashing through the tree line and baring down on him, Virgil not far behind.

“Roman, oh my goodness we were so worried! Are you hurt? Can you stand? Why do you have your dagger – did something happen?”

“Princy! Shit are you – are you okay? I am so, - I’m really- We looked EVERYWHERE“

“I’m fine.” Roman promised ‘Its fine’ he added to Virgil, “I just – I figured you needed some space so I tried looking for wood on the other side of camp. Guess I got a little turned around” He allowed Patton to pull him to his feet, giving them both his best sheepish grin. Embarrassed but ready to laugh at himself. He really had got lost. Silly Roman.

It’s not like he could tell them about the curse.

“We’re not the far from camp” Patton told him, he glanced around frowning slightly “I’m sure we searched through here before.”

“I was trying to make my own way back,” Roman lied easily “I probably ended up walking in a circle and missed you.”

It’s not like there was any point telling them about the fae.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine Pat, what about you? How’s your leg?”

“Oh this old thing?” Patton gave them a wide smile “it’s just fine, Ro, don’t you worry. Now I think I know a short cut back, you two follow close to me alright?” and with that the large man spun round and headed into the trees.

Virgil and Roman shared an exasperated glance. The man was clearly in agony.

“Listen, Princy I-“

“I’m sorry too.” Roman cut him off.  Bumped his shoulder against Virgil’s and winked. “Now lets get back to camp before Logan paces a trench in to the ground hm?”

Slowly Virgil nodded, although he was still staring at Roman guiltily. The two of them headed into the trees together, collected Patton from where he was half collapsed against an elm, and the three slowly made their way back to camp.

By the time they were explaining what had happened to Logan, the memory of the fae had faded like mist.

With a days more travel they would be out of the forest and on a path to Steveange. The largest and greatest city of the Central Kingdoms. From there they would have to chose whether to head east, towards the coast line, west to catch the merchant festivals or north, where Roman had always refused to travel.  

Stuck between two pages of Romans notebook, a unseasonably yellowed oak leaf shivered.

Time to go home.

[eliemo]

Something Long and Stupid

Summary: Remus knew he wasn't a good person. He was Deadpool, a killer for hire, "the merc with a mouth." He'd come to terms with what he was a long time ago. He didn't need Spiderman to remind him of what he was.

He didn't need Virgil to come into his life and make him question it for the first time

TWs: Violence, threats, strong language, blood

Notes: Superhero au, Spiderman Virgil, Deadpool Remus, enemies to lovers Dukexiety

New project that nobody asked for. I know I should finish my ongoing wips before starting a new one but I do not control the hyperfixation.

(Part 1) (Part 2)

When Virgil kicked Remus in the chest and sent him hurtling off the building into an active construction site, Remus found himself thinking about how they’d met.

Honestly, it hadn’t started off much better. Spiderman was a piece of shit who thought he was so much better than Remus just because Deadpool killed some people every now and then.

Well, that had been the first impression anyway. They hadn’t exactly started off on the right foot.

Remus had been doing his job, thank you very much, he was a mercenary for hire, it wasn’t like he’d been going after a gang of strangers for fun. And he certainly hadn’t needed help.

There were three of them and one of him, just some standard thugs that had been causing a bit too much trouble for people with more money to spend, their names already set to pay for Remus’s rent this month.

He’d unsheathed his swords, (guns would make it over too quickly, and what was the fun in that?) letting the assholes get their hopes up by grabbing for their own weapons and then—

Then all his targets were all suddenly covered in webs, firmly plastered to the nearest wall with threats and screaming that Remus ignored in favor of whirling around, slicing the air with his blades.

“Hey, what the fuck?”

Spiderman was half hanging off the wall, stepping back down onto the ground when he saw Remus staring. “You’re welcome,” he called, like Remus had asked for him to come in ruin is fun.

Remus scoffed, because rude. You don’t just steal someone’s kill like that. But at least they were immobilized now, which meant shooting them and getting the day over with would be a piece of cake. The webs weren’t budging no matter how frantically they kicked.

He yanked his gun from his belt to do exactly that, only to have another web (seriously, fucking spider webs had no business being this strong) wrapped around his wrist, another pulling the pistol right out of his hand.

“Uh, motherfucker?” Remus took a step back, furiously grabbing at the lingering webs with his bare hands, grimacing at the way it clung to his leather. “Jeez, you want me to decapitate them instead?”

“They’re already down,” the asshole said, like Remus hadn’t noticed. “Back off, Deadpool.”

Remus didn’t have time to be surprised that Spiderman knew who he was, far too busy wanting to run over and punch him right in his stupid masked face. “Ok, clearly you don’t know my deal. Move it, Webs.”

“Then you don’t know mine,” he said, masked eye staring blankly from underneath the hood over his suit. “I’m not letting you murder defenseless people.”

“They’re not fucking defenseless.”

“They’re not breaking free,” the spider said. “The cops will take whoever I capture for them. Call them and leave.”

Remus scoffed and tightened his hold on his sword, wondering if he really wanted to get into a fight with Spiderman in the middle of the afternoon. It was only fucking Tuesday, he was too tired to deal with this shit. “And they can take them in body bags. Give me my gun back.”

Remus was a good foot taller than him, and loaded with about three times as many weapons, but the masked asshole didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. God, he was probably smirking under his suit.

“I finished the fight, I get to decide.” He turned around, his back to Remus like he didn’t even care. “Maybe try to be faster next time.”

“Oh, fuck right off with that,” Remus snarled. “Fuck off. Fuck off and suck a fat dick, you fucking—”

“Either you walk away, or I leave you tied to the wall.”

“Kinky,” Remus smirked, even if Spiderman couldn’t see it under his own mask. “But fat fucking luck. No way in hell am I letting some bitch in black and purple spanx steal my kill.”

Spiderman actually had the audacity to sigh, like he was dealing with a petulant child. “Nobody’s getting killed.”

“You know, I’ve got more than one gun,” Remus said, mentally calculating how fast he’d have to move to shoot every single person in this alleyway. “I’m playing nice. Get out of my way.”

“You’re not shooting someone who can’t fight back.”

“Oh, are you the moral police?” Jesus, Remus wanted to punch this guy. “Man, fuck off. It’s none of your business.”

He grabbed for his other gun, only to immediately feel something wrap around his waist and legs, yanking hard and lifting him into the air. He shouted something he really hoped no pedestrians were close by enough to overhear, doing his absolute best to give Spiderman his coldest glare as he was slammed against the brick wall, upside down, held firmly down by fucking spider webs.

“Oh, you bitch.”

Remus twisted and thrashed, and while he could feel the webs giving way already it would be a good few minutes until he was free. That fucking asshole.

“Next time I see you I’m cutting off your spider ass and hanging it on my fucking wall!”

Spiderman ignored him, and Remus watched as he grabbed the thugs Remus was supposed to kill and one by one swung them out of the alleyway before disappearing completely.

That whore.

It hadn’t been long, unfortunately, until they’d met again, and Remus had of course tried to punch the asshole right in the head.

They’d ended up on the same rooftop, which was even worse because Remus came up here to relax. Spiderman had just been sitting there, legs dangling over the edge as he watched over the city, looking almost peaceful with his hood down and the sun beating against his mask.

So Remus had immediately vaulted over and swung at him as hard as he possibly could.

And then he’d missed, because of course Spidey had to have fucking inhuman reflexes, which was bullshit. He’d ducked away and managed to jump to Remus’s side before Remus even registered that his fist had met nothing but air.

“Can you leave?” Spiderman asked, so unbothered it only made Remus angrier. “I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Making sure people don’t get killed,” he said, moving back towards the ledge. “You should try it sometime.”

Remus crossed his arms, watching the vigilante in disbelief. “You get that I’m a mercenary, right? You’re surprised by the killing thing?”

“I’m not,” he said, and he still wouldn’t even look at Remus. “But I’m stopping it when I can.”

“Oh? So you’re ruining a small business?” Remus threw his arms out and turned towards the ledge overlooking the bustling city. “Spiderman doesn’t support small businesses, you heard it here first, folks!”

Spidey was staring at him now, and Remus had a sneaking suspicion he would not appreciate the look he was being given if the mask was taken off. Asshole.

“I don’t support killing people, Deadpool.”

“Sucks,” Remus said. “You should’ve stayed out of the way. If I wasn’t so kind and generous I would have shot you.”

“You mean if you hadn’t been tied up and defenseless,” Spiderman corrected, and Remus was right back to wanting to punch him. “You’re lucky I didn’t get you arrested.”

Remus dramatically put a hand to his chest and gasped, walking along the roof’s edge. “Oh no. What ever would I have done? I’d be defeated! My one weakness. C ops.”

Spidey didn’t respond, but he did get up and move away when Remus got a bit too close to where he was perched on the ledge. Ha .

“Maybe I should have called the cops on you, Spidey,” Remus added. “They’d finally catch the masked menace. Some jail time might humble you.”

“I’d be fine,” Spiderman said. “I wasn’t the one tied to a wall.”

Remus hopped back onto the roof with a growl, grimacing at the reminder of how long it had taken to get those webs off his suit. “Yeah, don’t do that shit again. Seriously, I can and will end you.”

“Get in line behind half the city, Deadpool.”

Remus scoffed, something he apparently did a lot of whenever talking to Spiderman, and followed him across the rooftop. “Man, your ratings are shit. At least I don't act like a hero.”

It was hard to see, barely noticeable, but Remus saw Spidey’s shoulders tense, just a bit. Apparently he’d struck a nerve. Good.

“I don’t act like anything,” he said, and it was just a little less cocky than before. “I’m just trying to help people.”

“Oh, so you’re playing hero.” Remus grinned, moving until he was crouched right in front of the vigilante. “Ooh ooh, let me guess...you’re in college. You’re ...22. Maybe 23, or 24. You got these big bad powers one day and figured you were the only one in the whole wide world who could protect the people who couldn’t protect themselves.”

Spidey didn’t answer, just looked at him with that blank, unamused stare, so Remus continued. “Or were you born with them? Doesn’t seem like it, you’ve only popped up in the last two or three years—”

“It’s none of your business,” Spiderman cut in, and Remus smirked. “And you’re wrong, for the record.”

“Oh I am, am I?” Remus asked, amused despite himself. “If nobody wants you, why are you even trying?”

Spidey was tense now, and doing a real bad job of hiding it. “Maybe I don’t give a shit what people think.”

“Right.” Remus didn’t need to see the guy’s face to know that wasn’t it. “You do realize how much money you could make with those powers, right?”

“I don’t care,” he said. “I’m fine doing what I’m doing.”

Remus looked him over, he’d seen spidey all over newspapers and on TV before, but this was the first time actually talking to him in person, besides the other day when the asshole had ruined his afternoon. Honestly, it was kinda underwhelming. He expected the suit to be higher tech, at least.

“Are you broke?” he asked. “You seem broke. I could make you a way better mask, by the way. It looks like shit.”

“I’m sure,” Spidey said, completely ignoring his generous offer. Rude. “And how much do you get paid for killing people?”

“A lot.”

Spiderman hummed nonchalantly, no longer looking at Remus. “Well, I’m glad it’s worth it.”

“It is! I sleep like a baby in my king sized bed.” And yeah, that was a little bit of a lie. Barely.. He wasn’t living that luxuriously, New York was expensive as shit, but based on his tech he was way better off than Webs.

“That’s wonderful,” Spiderman said and damn, apparently the masked menace was capable of being a sarcastic bastard as well as a cocky asshole. “You done pretending now? Can I go?”

“I’m not pretending anything.”

“Yeah, ok.” Spiderman was back to sounding arrogant, and Remus couldn’t remember why they were talking instead of fighting to the death. “I know you sleep like shit.”

Remus actually laughed, humorless and cold, because what the fuck?

“Oh yeah?”

“Nobody kills for a living if their life is going great,” Spidey said. “What horrible trauma pushed you to that decision?”

Oh, this motherfucker. This piece of shit. He was so dead when Remus could catch him off guard.

“Nobody puts on a costume and fights crime when half the city wants him dead if his life is going great, either.” Remus smirked, moving to try to get Spidey to look at him again. “At least I get money for it. No student loan debt at 26 is pretty nice.”

He probably shouldn’t have given the vigilante that was quickly turning into his sworn enemy his age but eh. What was he gonna do, kill him? Remus didn’t stay dead.

“That’s great,” Spiderman said. “And all it cost was people’s lives.”

“Yep!” Remus hoped it came out cheery enough to piss him off a little more. “Think of it this way, Spidey. They’re gonna die anyway.”

Spiderman immediately straightened up and stalked to the other end of the rooftop, clearly wanting the conversation to end. Mission accomplished. “Jesus Christ.”

“It’s true!” he called, just to drive home the fuck off a bit more. “Someone would have gotten to them eventually.”

“They’re still people, Deadpool.”

Remus shrugged. “Good people don't get hits put on them.”

“Maybe not,” the vigilante agreed. “But good people don’t murder in exchange for money, either.”

Remus barked another laugh at that, more genuine this time because... yeah? Duh. “No shit. I never fucking said I was a good person.”

“You’re lucky you haven't killed anyone innocent yet.” And goddammit there was that ‘hero’ shit again that made Remus want to throw up. He’d just been starting to have fun, too.

“It’s still not your business.”

“It will be,” Spidey said, perched on the ledge in a way that would make Remus dizzy if he cared. “Stick to killing criminals and we'll be fine.”

“Oh?” Remus followed, smirking in a way that would probably get him punched if he took off his mask. “Are you gonna come get me if I’m not good?”

“That’s my job.”

“Aw, don’t worry,” Remus teased. “I’ll wear something sexy for you.”

“Gross.”

“Love you too, Spider Babe!”

Spidey scoffed, responding with a gloved middle finger when Remus winked. Remus watched a web shoot from his wrist, and suddenly Spiderman was gone, swinging across New York rooftops, leaving Remus to try to figure out how he was getting down.

Remus honestly hadn’t expected to see him again. He was fucked in the head, but he didn’t have any plans to lose control and start killing everyone in sight. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t a villain Spiderman needed to spend time tracking down. New York was busy enough for both of them already.

He did plan on chucking the nearest heavy object at him if he ever saw Spidey swinging past. That never ended up happening. Not that he cared. He didn’t miss him.

He expected to catch a glimpse of him eventually, maybe close enough to yell a few lighthearted threats or call him names, but nothing as entertaining as the argument on the roof.

What he hadn’t expected, was to run right into the masked menace while walking home in the middle of the night.

Remus had just finished a job, something standard and quick, and after wiping the blood from his blades he’d decided to take the long way home. The sun had set, the night air was crisp and relaxing, and it helped Remus forget about the blood stains he needed to wash away.

He’d been cutting through sidestreets, mentally mapping out how to get back to his place. He turned a corner into an alleyway, and—

And there was Spiderman, hunched over himself and leaned against the wall like he’d been using it for support, shaking, gasping, and completely drenched in deep red blood.

Remus froze, and Spidey did too as soon as he registered Deadpool standing just a few paces away, the two of them staring silently for what felt like an eternity.

“Dude,” Remus said when he found his voice. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Spiderman was clutching at his chest, black and purple suit barely able to hide the red stains, leaned heavily against the brick wall as he watched Remus warily. “Nothing.”

“Don’t be stupid. Whose blood is that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he snapped, and his voice was wavering. “Keep walking.”

Remus took a step forward, frowning at the way the vigilante went tense against the wall. He ignored it. “Whose blood is it?” It came out more of a command than a question this time.

“Mostly mine,” Spiderman said, and Remus could see it pooling around his gloves now that he was closer. “It’s fine.”

“Why’re you bleeding?”

“None of your business. Go home.”

Remus tried to get a better look from where he stood, well aware that approaching might not be the best idea right now. “Was it a gun or a knife?”

“It was none of your business and you need to go away.”

Remus watched him, incredulous, because the idiot was barely standing and losing way too much blood way too quickly, and he was pretty sure Spiderman didn’t have Remus’s whole immortality deal.

“You really want to bleed out on the street like some street thug?”

The vigilante hesitated, and Remus listened to the way his breathing was turning into awful sounding wheezes. “I’m...not going to bleed out. I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah?” Remus challenged, probably a bit more aggressively than was needed for someone who looked like they were about to keel over. “Walk over to me then.”

He’d expected the lack of response, but even though the eyes built into the suit were practically lifeless (he really should get him some more advanced goggles. He’d be a lot more approachable if his eyes weren’t so blank) Remus could still see his whole body tense in fear.

“No,” he said, low and trembling. “Fuck off.”

“Spidey, this isn’t a joke.” Jesus, that was a lot of blood. “You’re gonna bleed out.”

“And you can throw a party—”

“Fucking come here.” He hadn’t meant to snap, but he wasn’t going to just stand here bickering with the city’s hero until he dropped dead. But Spidey still shook his head, pressed even further against the wall now, and Remus sighed. “Fine.”

Remus took a few steps forward, initially planning on prying his arms away to get a better look at the wound, but Spiderman flinched back, trying to scramble away like Remus was coming at him with a weapon.

Well, Remus supposed that made sense. He had threatened to kill him a couple times last time they spoke.

“Chill it, Spidey.” Remus crouched a bit, suddenly painfully aware of how much taller he was, carefully holding his hands out. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I don’t believe you,” he shot back. Which...yeah, fair. “I know you want to.”

“Does it look like I have a knife in my hand?” Remus asked. “No. Chill out and let me see.”

Spidey didn’t pull away when Remus took his shoulders, but he did flinch as soon as Deadpool touched him, probably involuntarily. Remus ignored it, focusing instead on figuring out where the blood was coming from. It was almost impossible in the dark lighting, especially up against the black suit.

“It’s...not that bad,” Spiderman rasped. “Seriously.”

Remus wasn’t buying that for a second. “What happened?”

“I was stupid, that’s what happened,” Spidey said, arms still wrapped firmly around himself. “It...there were five of them and one of them got lucky with a knife.”

“Jesus, fuck.” Remus pulled back, trying to figure out what to do. “You are stupid. Where?”

He only hesitated a moment. “Uh, my chest. I heal fast.”

“Jesus. How fast?”

Spiderman shrugged, then obviously regretted it when it pulled at the stab wound. “Hopefully fast enough,” he said. “I’ll be fine tomorrow or I’ll be dead.”

“Jesus,” Remus said again, because what the fuck else was he supposed to say? “Sit down. Jesus Christ.”

Spidey thankfully did as he said, though Remus suspected it had more to do with the fact that he couldn’t keep himself standing anymore rather than actually following instructions.

He wasn’t fighting anymore, almost limp as Remus took his wrists and moved them to his sides, but he did look like he was ready to bolt the second Deadpool made one wrong move.

Like he wouldn’t fall right on his face and hurt himself worse if he tried.

Remus could see the source of the blood now, a deep gash across his upper chest that had apparently sliced the black and purple suit like butter, still gushing crimson with each passing second.

Shit.

“Alright, uh.” This wasn’t his expertise in the slightest. Other than digging out some bullets, Remus didn't have to tend to his wounds. “I don’t think I have any fabric or...oh, your hoodie. Hand it over.”

Spiderman stared, and if he didn’t hurry up and get with the program Remus was going to knock him out and handle this himself. “Why?”

“Because you’re bleeding out. Give it.”

Spidey at least had the sense to listen and carefully peel the hoodie away from his suit, sliding it down his arms even as his gloved hands shook violently. Remus couldn’t help but wince at the noise Spiderman tried to choke back, because that had to hurt like a bitch.

“Maybe, like...lay down?” Remus suggested. “Yeah, do that. It’ll help.”

Spidey still hesitated, even as the blood continued to flow and he started to slide down against his will. “I...need to see what you’re doing.”

Remus sighed, bunching up the hoodie and pressing it firmly against the wound, ignoring the strangled gasp that came from the vigilante. Blood was quickly soaking through the cloth, and Remus just pressed harder.

“I’m just putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding,” Remus said. “If I wanted to kill you I’d leave you here. If it stops bleeding you’ll heal, right?”

The only answer he got was another wet, trembling gasp when Remus pushed harder, Spiderman’s blood soaking into his gloves. It took a second for him to realize he was grasping at Remus’s wrists, his hold weak.

“H-hopefully,” Spidey managed, and he really didn’t sound great. His eyes were drooping, and Remus figured the biggest danger right now was letting him fall asleep. “Or, you know. I’ll die.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Remus said without thinking. “I’m gonna stop the bleeding, you’re gonna heal with whatever weird powers you have, and then you’ll be less of a careless idiot next time.”

A few moments passed without an answer, and for once Remus wasn’t entirely sure how to fill the silence. The only sound between them was Spiderman’s labored, ragged breathing, which at least sounded a bit less shaky and faint as Remus continued to press down.

“What are you doing?” Spidey asked eventually, catching Remus completely off guard with the stupid question. “Why are you...trying to help?”

Remus wasn’t trying to do anything. He was helping. The city’s beloved hero would have been dead five minutes ago if he hadn’t managed to interrupt Remus’s perfectly nice, peaceful walk.

He hadn’t even really thought about it. Remus was an asshole, a murderer for a living, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t the guy who was going to leave New York’s savior to bleed out in an alleyway.

Besides, he’d been the first person Remus had been able to have a somewhat entertaining conversation with in months.

“Somebody’s gotta save everyone,” he eventually settled on, still pressing hard against the wound. “And I refuse to be the city’s only mouthy vigilante.”

Another beat of silence, and for a moment Remus thought he might have fallen asleep. “I don’t...save anyone. And I’m not mouthy.”

“You do,” Remus argued. “And you are.”

“I don’t,” he snapped, and at least he didn’t seem inclined to argue about the mouthy thing. “You do your job better than I do.”

Remus took a moment to look over the bleeding hero. He was weak and trembling, and probably dangerously pale and clammy under that suit. The blood flow had definitely slowed, but it hadn't stopped. There was a good chance he wouldn’t remember a damn thing Remus said to him tonight.

And if he did, it’s not like he really gave a shit, anyway.

“I’m a mercenary,” Remus said. “Anyone can kill someone. It takes something a lot stronger to save them. So shut up and stop being self deprecating.”

Spiderman shuddered when Remus carefully peeled back the bloody hoodie, leaning in to get a better look at where they were at. Either he was just that good at fixing stab wounds, or Spidey’s healing powers were gradually starting to kick in.

Remus decided to go with the former. He deserved it.

“I got someone killed tonight,” Spidey said, quiet and unbearably sad. “She...she died because I wasn’t fast enough, and I didn’t—”

“You can’t save everyone.”

The vigilante pulled his hands away from Remus’s wrists, like he’d just realized he was holding them. “I should have tried harder.”

Remus sighed. “You tried hard enough. You did fine.”

That was apparently the end of the conversation, Spiderman falling back into silence as Remus went back to making sure he didn’t start bleeding all over the place again. He didn’t have anything on him to properly clean it up, he wasn’t sure he even owned a first-aid kit, but Spidey’s breathing was starting to even out, and after about ten minutes or so the blood stopped flowing completely.

“You, uh...you good?”

“I’ll be fine,” Spiderman said, and it didn’t sound like a desperate lie this time. He still looked like shit, but he was able to slowly sit up on his own. “Not dying this time. Just...still hurts.”

They were plunged back into silence, slightly less tense than before but no less uncomfortable. Remus eventually relinquished his hold on the hoodie when Spidey was able to carefully take it from him.

Right, he was fine now. Remus didn’t need to stay, it wasn’t his business anymore. It hadn’t been his business to begin with.

“I...owe you,” Spiderman said, almost like it was strange for him to admit. “So, thank y—”

“Don’t thank me, Spidey.” God, this had been a mistake, hadn’t it? “Seriously. Just buy me a pizza sometime and we’ll call it square.”

Spiderman stared for second, unsteady hands holding his own hood to his chest, but the small laugh that escaped at least sounded genuine, and no longer quite so pained.

“Ok,” he said. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Remus hesitated before standing, not really sure if it would be more rude to leave or stay at this point. Spiderman probably didn’t want a mercenary for hire standing over him while he was wounded, whether Remus had saved his life or not.

Remus was still just as far from a hero as the villains Spiderman fought, and both of them had a reputation to keep.

“You sure you’re ok?” Remus asked. “I can like...stay. Or call you an ambulance or...something.”

“I’m good,” Spidey said, sitting up with a small hiss of pain until he was propped up against the wall, breathing still heavy. “You stopped the bleeding, I’ll live. You can go home, Deadpool.”

“Right.” He carefully stepped around the vigilante, still keeping a close eye on his chest to make sure the bleeding didn’t start again. “Just don’t die after all my hard work. My gloves are fucking soaked.”

Spiderman scoffed, but it was more good natured and light than it had been the last time they talked. “You got it.”

Remus kept walking down the alley, only turning around once more before turning the corner at the end. “And don’t forget my pizza, Spidey!”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Now I want the story where NMJ is half war god and NHS is half fox spirit, thank you so much xD

based on this tumblr post and Lao Nie’s decision to refer to WRH as A-Han in this one ficlet

on ao3

Nie Zonghui had long ago suspected that his Sect Leader was a madman, but he didn’t really know it for certain until the first time he lost the man while on a bodyguarding mission – his first, and a great honor. 

Supposedly.

“It’s all right,” his father said, looking long-suffering, when he reported back in distress. “He’s an adult, our sect leader, and this is a small city with no major threats in the middle of some idiosyncratic festival celebration for some goddess or another. How much damage can he really do before he sobers up?”

Nie Zonghui stared at his father, then turned to his mother, who was also staring at her husband with an expression of sincere incredulity.

“Lots,” she supplied. “Lots and lots and lots, and that’s assuming he doesn’t get himself killed in the meantime. Why would you even say that?”

“He’s our sect leader, have some respect.”

“I respect the boss bull of the herd, too, but it doesn’t mean I let it go wandering around the fields wherever it pleases!” She shook her head, snorting in a manner not entirely unlike a bull herself. “Well, if we’re very lucky, maybe our cousin will knock up a cow while he’s out and about rather than just breaking things. We could use a direct heir already; he’s not getting any younger.”

“We could use him being properly married is what we could use. I don’t understand why he’s so resistant – ah, Zonghui, you’re still here? Go gather some cultivators and go look for him, but don’t kick up any fuss, and worry too much if you can’t find him at once. He’ll be back to business soon enough.”

He was, if by “soon enough” one meant “after nearly ten days” and by “back to business” one meant “still drunk off his ass and waxing rhapsodic about some girl he met and possibly married”.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure the sun shines out of her ass,” Nie Zonghui’s father said, his face stormy. “You still could’ve told us where you went. Look what you did to poor Zonghui, he’s been wearing down his heels pacing in worry over you!”

“Oh, heels, yes, did I mention that my gorgeous goddess had amazing legs, too?” their sect leader asked with a soppy smile and stars in his eyes, totally uninterested in any of their petty complaints. “She could kill a man with them – oh, but I would die a happy man between those thighs…!”

“Zonghui, go guard the outside door,” his mother told him. “Also, tell his younger sister that she might need to be sect leader sooner than she’d hoped, because I’m going to murder this fucking –”

-

Nie Zonghui was there, too, when ten months later his new little baby cousin was (metaphorically) ditched on their doorstep.

The entire thing was entirely too dramatic for his taste, and yes, he was aware that as a person who chose to dual wield sabers he had very little room to criticize others for being overly dramatic, however correct he might be.

They had been fighting bandits – barely disguised mercenaries, really, probably paid off by the Wen sect to harass them – in what had turned into a particularly bad situation. Three separate regiments had joined together to take advantage of a terrible thunderstorm and ambush them at all once and them with their backs against a raging river, swollen with rain to the precipice of flooding, with no way to retreat except by fleeing on their sabers, abandoning the common people they were protecting and losing all face. 

The sect leader had been raging on the battlefield, saber in hand, but even he had seen that they would need to shortly choose between death and dishonor; Nie Zonghui, close by his side, had seen how his face was split with a terrible scowl as he wracked his brain for more options.

Then there had been a terrible roar of thunder, and then a flash of light that had blinded them all.

Nie Zonghui had immediately noted the anomality of it, thunder first and lightning second, and wondered it if it was some sort of array working against them, especially when the light had not faded away but grown brighter, causing searing pain in his eyes that made him fall and clutch at his face. But he was a good soldier, loyal and true, and he forced his eyes open to squint into the night, looking to see he did not know what.

Through his sun-blindness, he vaguely thought he could see a silhouette not unlike that of a woman, ten feet tall and radiant as the sun, wearing a dress of nine colors and carrying a guandao in her hand that seemed to reach the clouds, but when he blinked again he saw nothing at all.

Or, well, he did see something: all of their enemies were headless, no matter where on the battlefield they were, their bodies dropping like a loosened string of coins where they had been standing and splattering anyone they were fighting with blood as they gawped at the sudden corpses.

Also, the sect leader was suddenly holding something in his arms when he hadn’t been before.

“What’s that?” Nie Zonghui asked, and the sect leader turned towards him. Nie Zonghui squinted, and suddenly wondered if this entire battle had been a very bad dream. “…is that a baby?”

“Yes,” the sect leader said, grinning broadly. “He’s my son!”

“He’s your what,” Nie Zonghui said.

“My son! I didn’t know about him, of course – apparently he came as something of a surprise to her as well – but anyway she thought that it would be more appropriate for me to raise him, all things considered. A baby doesn’t quite fit her lifestyle. What do you think of ‘Mingjue’ as a courtesy name? Good, yes?”

Nie Zonghui suddenly understood why his parents were always cursing all the time.

-

“I don’t see why I need another wife,” the sect leader said. “I already have a son.”

“Don’t you want to give said son a mother?” Nie Zonghui’s mother asked, her arms crossed. “One that isn’t the Dark Lady of the Nine Heavens, the war goddess you somehow managed to knock up without getting killed?”

“She never specified that she was –”

“Someone needs to be Nie-furen,” the sect leader’s younger sister interrupted, “because I am sick and tired of doing the job, and it’s a little difficult to ask a goddess to do it. So you are going to find yourself another one that’s a little closer to the ground this time, you understand me?”

The sect leader nodded and agreed, which was universally agreed upon to be the only appropriate reaction when his beloved meimei said something in that particular tone of voice.

(He did, after a suitable period of time, state that he wanted to make clear that there was no actual evidence that he had knocked up Jiutian Xuannü and that it was quite plausible that the mother of his heir was nothing more than a rogue cultivator of particular strength and possibility even immortality. If Baosan Sanren had managed it, why not someone else?)

At any rate, they brought him several pictures of women that might fit the bill and who would not be too offended at being asked to be a secondary wife – their sect leader swore up and down that he had performed bows with the mother of his first son, rendering him legitimate, and anyway no one was in the mood to see if the maybe-a-goddess would take offense to someone calling her child a bastard – but none seemed to catch their sect leader’s interest.

“Consider visiting a few brothels,” Nie Zonghui’s great-uncle suggested. “Anything to get you back in the habit of thinking about women of a less divine nature – though of course we’d prefer that she be literate.”

The sect leader scowled and stalked off to go night-hunting instead.

“I don’t like brothels,” he said to Nie Zonghui as they made their way through an especially deserted mountain valley in search of something that had murdered all the local mensfolk in the surrounding villages with especial viciousness. “Surely there’s an option in between.”

Nie Zonghui preferred his sabers to either men or women, but he obediently wracked his brain to think of where people in stories and famous songs found their wives. “Innkeeper’s daughters?” he finally suggested.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the sect leader scoffed, but the very next day, he decided to break his usual habit of staying out in the wild no matter the weather in favor of taking shelter from the encroaching storm in a small inn right at the base of an especially lonesome and nasty-looking cliff.

“We’re always happy to have guests,” the innkeeper said with a somewhat sinister smile – he was pale as a ghost in the guttering candlelight, and his lips looked very red. “My daughter will show you to your rooms.”

The daughter in question was inhumanly beautiful: small and graceful, with a fox’s face and dark hair that fell to her knees.

“Wow,” the sect leader said, staring at her. “You know, I think you could kill me with those nails of yours.”

Nie Zonghui took a look and agreed with the sentiment, seeing that her nails were as long as claws and looked just as sharp, but apparently he and the sect leader had somewhat different interpretations of this sequence of events and plans on how to address it.

Namely, Nie Zonghui pointed out that the lady was obviously some sort of yao or maybe a gui and that she was probably the one seducing the local mensfolk, draining their yang energy and then slaughtering them, and therefore that it was undoubtedly their duty as cultivators – and cultivators of the Nie sect in particular – to put an end to her vile deeds through the swift application of their sabers. Furthermore, he explained, they should take care never to allow themselves to be alone with her in the process, lest she seek to entrance them with her seductive magics and lure them to their undoubtedly violent deaths.

The sect leader’s rebuttal to this line of logic was limited to “I’m the sect leader and if I want to bang the probably-a-ghost, I’m going to bang the ghost and there’s nothing you can do to stop me”.

Amazingly enough, the sect leader did not end up dead the next day – the innkeeper looked just as surprised as Nie Zonghui felt – and instead announced, very happily, that he was planning on marrying her.

“You what,” the innkeeper said, staring at his very smug-looking ‘daughter’. In light of dawn, she was wearing a dress of many colors with a foxfur ruff, and her beauty was almost painful to behold.

“You why,” Nie Zonghui moaned.

“You shut up,” the sect leader told him. “I’ll have you know that my lady here is very clever, literate and well-learned, and she doesn’t at all mind being the second wife. Weren’t you one of the ones on my case about getting a Nie-furen to help managing things back home?”

“I didn’t think we needed to specify that the person in question didn’t murder a lot of people!”

“Isn’t his first wife supposedly a war goddess?” the lady inquired, her clever eyes dancing in amusement.

“Well…yes…”

“Also, all those men deserved it,” she said. After a brief pause, she added, “In my opinion as a totally unrelated observer, of course.”

“See?” the sect leader said, putting his arm around her waist. “No problem. Anyway, she’ll stick to killing bad people from now on, it’s fine.”

The lady smiled. There were many teeth in that smile, and they were very sharp.

“If she doesn’t, I’ll have my first wife discipline her,” the sect leader added and her smile abruptly disappeared.

Nie Zonghui coughed into his hand, but reluctantly admitted that maybe this wouldn’t turn out to be as bad as all that.

-

“Huaisang is a lovely name,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, being the best of them at diplomacy when she put her mind to it, although admittedly it was something she did only very rarely. “I think we were just expecting something a little different, that’s all.”

“Possibly something a little more fox related,” Nie Zonghui’s father said.

“Please,” the sect leader’s second wife said. “That would be gauche.”

They looked at her.

“…all of my suggestions along those lines got rejected,” she admitted, and glared at the small shrine in the corner as if it had personally wronged her. In this context, it very well might have.

“Is there anything we should keep an eye out for?” Nie Zonghui said, watching his little cousin carry around his even littler cousin under his arm as if he were a sack of potatoes and not a baby that hadn’t yet had its first month celebration. He would have interfered but for the fact that little Nie Huaisang seemed to be notably more in control of his various limbs than the usual infant. “A tail, for instance?”

“Oh, no,” the second lady said. “Nothing like that.”

“Great,” Nie Zonghui said. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“It’s very rare for fox children to achieve a grand plot worthy of a tail in their first lifetime.” A pause. “From what I understand, that is.”

“Great,” Nie Zonghui said. “…great.”

“You’ll take good care of him when I’m gone, won’t you?” she asked, and when they all looked at her, smiled. “Not for another year or two, don’t worry, but I really can’t stay here that long. Sometimes, a girl’s got urges she has to take care of.”

“The sort of urges where we’d need to hunt down a mysteriously appearing fox yao for having murdered a lot of people?”

“I already promised to stop killing people,” she said sulkily. “Although I do think I made some plausible arguments in favor of a little bit of entirely justified murder in connection with the Jin sect and maybe the Lan sect and, oh, the Jiang sect –”

“Please don’t.”

“It’s not my fault your Great Sects are all headed by men who wrong women.”

“You’re not wrong,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, and Nie Zonghui’s father looked alarmed. “But still, don’t.”

“You’re such spoilsports. But no, as it happens, it’s getting to that time when I need to return home for a while to pay my respects to the older generation.”

“How often does that happen?” Nie Zonghui’s father asked. “Once a century?”

“A gentleman shouldn’t ask a lady her age,” she sniffed. “At any rate, my family home is rather far away and they’re fairly insular, so I’ll probably be gone for at least a decade or so. I’d take the baby with me, but, well, you know, long travel and all. He’s better off sticking with his father.”

“All right,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said. “We understand, and we’ll help take care of him as best we can.”

“I’m glad.”

“We have only one thing to ask of you in return.”

Their second lady arched her delicate eyebrows.

Nie Zonghui’s mother smiled. “You be the one to tell your sister-in-law that you’re leaving your post.”

“…you know, on second thought, maybe I can push my departure out a few more years…”

-

“Before you say anything, I want to be clear right now that I don’t need a third wife,” their sect leader said. “I’m fine.”

“Sect Leader,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, not unaffectionately. “You’re not allowed a third wife.”

“And therefore – wait, really?” he asked, a little skeptically. “You’re not concerned about me?”

“Oh, we’re very concerned about you,” Nie Zonghui’s father said. “But not in that specific respect. Some celibacy would probably be good for you, at least in terms of increasing your life expectancy.”

“…my sister is lying in wait with a cleaver to make sure she doesn’t have to take on the duties of Nie-furen again, isn’t she.”

“I’m not discounting that possibility, but don’t worry about it, it’s fine, we’ll talk to her. The Lan sect haven’t had a proper hostess in years either, we can just say we’re following their example.”

The sect leader eyed his cousins beadily. “They haven’t had a proper sect leader in years, either.”

“No, you don’t say,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said dryly. “What a coincidence -”

“You have two fine sons,” Nie Zonghui’s father said hastily. “That seems like enough, really.”

“You don’t think they need a mother…?”

“Sect Leader,” Nie Zonghui interjected politely. “While we admit that it may be within your capabilities to be able to find a mother willing to deal with one step-son who has been waiving around a saber taller than he is since he learned to walk and has a penchant for the unyielding, unmerciful and very violent application of the norms of divine justice –”

Nie Mingjue’s presence bolstered the spirit of good men, while his gaze seemed to make evildoers itch. He was the most earnestly good person Nie Zonghui had ever met, and also one of the most stiff and unbending in respect to what he believed should and should not be done.

Unfortunate that his standards didn’t seem to match up to the needs of either human law or diplomacy…

“– as well as another who can scheme circles around anyone and persuade them of anything as long as he puts his mind to it and only doesn’t because he’s too busy lazing around in the sun to bother –”

Nie Huaisang liked to file his nails down to something that looked quite normal, but they grew sharp quickly enough if he wasn’t paying attention, and he had a penchant for pranks. There was nothing quite as unnerving as running into a sudden and unexpected ambush and then suddenly hearing the shrill peal of a fox’s laughter, hidden behind a scholarly fan.

“– but all things considered, we’d really rather you - didn’t.”

His mother and father nodded fervently.

“Good,” the sect leader said, though he still looked suspiciously at them as if he thought they were hiding something. “Good. As long as we’re agreed.”

-

Nie Zonghui walked in on his sect leader pinning the Wen sect leader to a wall, murmuring something in a low voice with a very particular smile on his face, and then he turned around and walked right back out again.

The sect leader of the Wen sect might appear beautiful and young, but he was at least a generation older than the Nie sect leader. Not that that had stopped the latter from relying on their respective positions to refer to him in startlingly intimate terms – my dear A-Han, the sect leader would say with a touch of wickedness that reminded one of his second son and the tiger gall bravery of his first – and while at first the Wen sect leader had taken it as a challenge to his authority, an act of brash insolence, it appeared that they had progressed beyond that.

That the Wen sect leader already had three wives and two concubines apparently didn’t present any obstacles either – except perhaps in what those poor women might have to endure from their husband when he returned from the wretched teasing he was enduring. Nie Zonghui felt a bit of pity for them.

Shortly thereafter, he felt a bit of pity for himself. The Wen sect had long dreamed of dominating the cultivation world and sought to increase their influence with the other sects through underhanded means, with the Nie sect opposing them at every turn. Even if war was not on the immediate horizon, the wise could smell its distant approach in the air - the best estimates said that it would take another decade or two to arrive, unless the Nie sect leader took an especially hard stance.

It appeared, however, that the Nie sect leader had chosen to take a different sort of…hard stance.

Ugh.

Maybe Nie Zonghui could conspire to throw his sect leader into a cage with a live tiger in heat next time he felt in the mood. It’d probably be less dangerous.

Nie Zonghui had assumed that the first person to talk to him about what he had seen would be his sect leader, even if it was only to remind him of the general rule that the sect leader had ultimate power and therefore could exercise his own bad judgment in deciding to fuck whoever he wished, but instead it was the Wen sect leader that found him later that afternoon.

A flush had yet to fully fade from his cheeks, and Nie Zonghui raised his eyes to the ceiling to avoid looking directly at the man in front of him. 

He did not want to know. Others might, given that no one had ever complained about the looks of either party, but he himself had realized long ago that he had no interest in matters of the flesh under any circumstances; he was very content with that conclusion.

“Is there some service this one can provide to Sect Leader Wen?” he asked politely, and it was only when the sect leader flushed again that he realized belatedly that his words could be misconstrued. After all, his own sect leader had probably already made a similar offer regarding the provision of services…

“Your sect leader has a sister, doesn’t he?” the other man asked, his voice tight and his hands in even tighter fists. “I’m not misremembering that?”

“He does,” Nie Zonghui responded honestly, and not without sympathy for the Wen sect leader’s position. He was given to understand that making certain belated discoveries regarding one’s own preferences could be highly disconcerting, particularly later in life. “But she’s rather different in kind than what you may be thinking, so it won’t work out that way. It wouldn’t work even if she wasn’t already married, which she is.”

After a moment of thought, he added, “Also, consider your predecessors.”

The Wen sect leader’s eyes narrowed.

-

Really, it was the sect leader’s own damn fault that he got himself murdered.

[starktonyx]

Heal (Peter Parker x Reader)

Word count: 3.5k

Description: On a mission with the team, reader is mind controlled by HYDRA and attacks Peter.

Requested by anon: I wanted to request something really angsty with Peter like the reader is being controlled by someone and is sent to kill peter and she’s succeeding because peter refuses to hurt her and in the last minute when she snaps out of it because she thinks she actually killed him and yeah.

Note: Out of all of the angst I’ve written this is the most dramatic one (I think) so enjoy the heartbreak!. Also this is the first time I post in a while and I’m really really happy about it.

Masterlist 

•

You had one mission, and it was the only thing repeating over and over again in your head.

Kill spiderman Kill spiderman Kill spiderman

A wave of coldness ran through your body, your hands slightly trembled. You didn't remember your name, or why you were in that military base in the first place. The only thing you knew was you were suited up and you had a mission, the small white 'A' embroidered in the side of your suit caught your attention, but you couldn't figure out what it stood for.

You couldn't hear anything other than a raspy voice with an accent ordering you to kill the man in a red and blue suit. Sometimes a faint desperate voice told you to stop, the voice sounded familiar but you pushed it back, there was no time for distractions.

You had to kill spiderman.

It didn't take long before you found the infamous man, although when you approached him and he spoke his voice sounded very teenager like. What was your age again? You couldn't figure that out either. That didn't matter anyways, you were on a mission.

The whole thing was almost blurry and too quick, one second you were in front of him and the other you already had the upper hand on the fight. You noticed your strength matched his, so you took advantage of that. He wasn't really fighting back though, he was pulling his punches and holding back. You didn't understand why.

"What the hell are you doing Y/n?" He desperately asked, but you just punched him again.

His voice was extremely familiar, and who the hell was Y/n? The raspy voice in your head quickly blocked further thoughts, so you kicked the guy this time.

He tried to defend himself with some sort of web fluid, but you were quick to crush the devices on his wrist with your own hands.

"You need to stop, I don't know what's wrong with you" He said, trying to evade your hits, but you were quick.

You suddenly remembered a move and jumped on his shoulders, wrapping your legs around his neck and hitting his head with your elbows. You were sure someone had taught you that but couldn't remember who.

"Stop this! I don't want to hurt you" He begged, why didn't he just shut up?

He held up quite well to your attacks, but since he wasn't exactly defending himself his body was slowly giving up.

The rest of the fight was quick, the more you hit him the more the raspy voice repeated itself in your head. You felt high, your vision was blurry yet you kept fighting, as if you were a muppet and someone else was controlling your movements, punches and kicks.

You couldn't stop until you killed him.

"Y/n stop! please. You know who I am ... love please don't do this" The guy kept begging, was he crying? You couldn't tell since the mask covered his face.

Love? The more familiar the voice sounded, the more you pushed it to the back of your head. Couldn't he shut up? You sure as hell couldn't stop yourself.

You were sure you shot him at least once, or perhaps stabbed him? Maybe both. You didn't even know where the blood was coming from.

"This is not you" He panted, spitting blood on the floor and clutching his side. "I'm not gonna fight you"

"As you wish" You replies, your low voice gave him chills.

You finally threw him to the ground, his head hitting the floor with a loud thud. He was so weak, he could barely lift his arms to stop you from choking him.

Peter didn't even know how he got into this position, everything happened so quickly. Of course you had been on his lap before, but this time wasn't like the others.

This time you were choking the life out of him.

He was terrified, he could look straight into your eyes for the first time in the fight. They were void, angry, a red cast covered them as if you were some kind of murder machine.

What have they done to you, he thought.

If you had been a mere human with no superpowers he would've been fine, he would've been able to stop you the moment you threw your first punch at him. But you weren't just a human, you had super soldier serum running through your veins.

His arms ached, and even though he pushed you with all the strength he had left it wasn't enough to stop you. Getting up wasn't even an option, the fractures you had caused with your kicks made it impossible.

Peter was slowly losing consciousness, and for a second he regretted not defending himself. But he couldn't hurt you, ever. He knew he would die first before lifting a hand to hurt you.

He suddenly had an idea, his last hope to bring you back to your senses.

He took his mask off.

It seemed to work, you instantly let go of his neck, he coughed until he was able to breathe again. You lifted your fist as an instinct, but before you could do anything he spoke.

"Yo–you know who I am" His voice was raspy from the trauma on his throat. "Come on love, it's me Peter ... your Peter"

You held your fist in the air, panting heavily as you analyzed the details of his face. You were no longer seeing spiderman, the man you were sent to kill. He was just a boy.

And you knew him.

You slowly lowered your fist as your mind adjusted back to reality, your head began to hurt when racing thoughts and memories came back. You could finally remember your name, you realized who was your actual team, and who was the person you almost killed.

Peter Parker.

He watched your thought process carefully, he finally let out a sigh of relief when he saw your face change from I'm going to murder you to what the hell is going on, and felt a wash of relief when your eyes softened and the red disappeared. The raspy voice inside your head was finally gone now.

However, the relief only lasted a few seconds, as he saw your face ultimately change to what the fuck did I just do.

Peter wished one day he can forget this moment, right when he saw the life leave your eyes, even when you weren't the one bleeding out on the floor, even when you weren't the one dying.

At least not on the outside.

As you snapped back to reality you got up from his lap and walked a few steps back from his body, unconsciously lifting a hand to cover your mouth but stopped when you realized thick blood covered it.

"Oh my god" You sobbed quietly, the weak sound of your voice was hidden behind your own heart beat stumping in your ears.

Peter tried to speak, he wanted to say something to assure you it wasn't your fault but breathing was becoming a harder task, let alone getting words out of his mouth. He used what was left of his strength to barely lift his head to look at you. He tried his best to give you a tiny smile, one you almost confused as a sign of pain from how weak it was.

You weren't able to keep eye contact with him, your eyes darted through the room but soon realized you couldn't keep looking at the place covered in blood and destruction either. When you looked Peter again you noticed he wasn't conscious anymore, and finally came back to your senses as if someone had slapped you in the face.

You needed to get help.

You realized how your comms had been deactivated, and as soon as you turned them on again you heard your teammates casually banter as they kicked ass like they used to every mission, completely oblivious to what happened.

"To–Tony" You called out, but your raspy voice wasn't loud enough and they kept bickering. You cleared your throat, taking a big breath to prevent your voice from shaking again. "Tony I need help, Peter is— Peter is down"

The whole team fell in silence, some punches and grunts could still be heard but even though the comms you could feel the tension building.

"I'm on my way" Tony's low tone made you shiver.

You walked further from Peter and waited in a corner of the room, looking expectantly at the window for Tony's arrival. A part of you wanted to hold Peter in your arms, but you were stuck on your feet as you were afraid to hurt him even more.

You couldn't get close to him, what if you hurt him again? The only thing that kept you from completely losing it was FRIDAY's reassurance that Peter's heart was still beating.

It didn't take long before Tony reached your location, the sound of his repulsors landing harshly next to Peter's body startled you, and he wasted no time in making questions as FRIDAY scanned him.

"What the hell happened here?" He asked, but you stayed silent in your position.

He was worried, how could he not be? His pupil was dying in his arms and his girlfriend was paralyzed in the other side of the room. He couldn't even understand why the hell were you standing so far away.

Before he could ask you Natasha made her appearance in the room, eyes quickly scanning the situation until they landed on your shaking figure.

You nervously hid your hands behind your back, you were scared to face the consequences of your actions.

You were ashamed.

"I'm so sorry" You couldn't contain the sobs anymore, shaking your head in denial like a terrified child waiting for punishment.

Tony was overwhelmed by how hurt Peter was and trying to patch him up before he bled out, so he couldn't understand why you would apologize for something like this.

But Natasha paid more attention, she noticed how you kept your bloody hands hidden, yet you forgot about the blood that stained your face. Of course she noticed Peter's wounds were common injuries in enemies you confronted, and even those never ended as badly because you tended to have mercy.

Yet none of that was enough to keep Peter safe.

It took only a matter of seconds for the trained spy to realize what happened, and she was a master in masking her reactions and emotions, but this time she couldn't keep herself from gasping in shock.

She took a step towards you, but she quickly was stopped by Wanda's hand. The latter had just arrived with Steve, and she didn't only know what happened.

She could see the images replaying over and over again in your head. So she walked towards you instead of Natasha, and only shushed you when you tried to explain yourself.

She has never been mind controlled, but she had been the one controlling other people, and she understood how vile and destructive it could be. So she could only hold your weak body breaking down in her arms, trying to block herself from the horrible images in your head.

As she walked with you to the jet she felt almost tired from the energy irradiating your body, as hard as she tried to not lurk through your thoughts she couldn't help but feel how miserable you felt.

You wished it was you dying instead of Peter.

So she knew it was best to send you to sleep through the whole ride home, and made sure you had only good dreams.

At least you could be happy in your sleep.

The ride home was silent, apart from the sudden noises the machine that registered Peter's heartbeat made every once in a while. The avengers were shocked, HYDRA had hurt the youngest members of the team, the purest and whatnot, and it happened right under their noses.

Tony beat himself up the whole trip, he had failed both of you, all his fancy systems and technology couldn't keep you safe.

The next days in the compound were hell to everyone. Even though Peter was having an excellent recovery due to his healing abilities, the progress was only physical.

He wanted to see you from the moment he woke up surrounded by doctors. He knew it wasn't your fault, he didn't blame you. He could never.

So he cried and begged to see you, but Tony wouldn't allow him. He knew you needed space, he knew how bad it would affect you to see Peter's injures. So he made him wait, at least until the the fractures healed and the bruises faded from purple to a faint yellow.

Until he didn't limp anymore.

And you? You were a mess. From the moment you arrived the compound you were put through multiple tests to find out what was wrong with you, but nothing showed up. Whatever HYDRA had done to you was momentarily, it left no traces and you were "fine".

Except nothing was fine, you couldn't trust yourself, not after what you did. So you isolated yourself, moved to a room as far away from everyone as possible. And they all knew not to bother you.

Almost the whole team had been through mind control at one point, they knew it took time to heal.

After a few days – that felt like eternity – Peter was finally allowed to go see you, although Tony made sure to warn him there was no guarantees you would even open the door to him.

Peter was more than nervous, his fingers fiddled together as he waited outside your isolation room. It took him time to gather up the courage and a big breath before knocking the door.

You knew Peter was outside from the moment he arrived, his hesitation made you wish he would just turn around and leave, but the knock on the door told you otherwise. You sat down in your bed and hugged your legs, laying your head on your knees.

"Y/n, it's me" He said softly, you just listened carefully on the other side of the door. "Can –can I come in? Please, I need to see you" He sighed deeply when he got no answer, but he wasn't doing to leave.

His voice was brittle, weak. Just like that day when he took off his mask and told you to stop. You shook your head in an attempt to keep the haunted memories away, and buried yourself more in your position.

You heard shuffling on the outside but he didn't leave, you guessed he sat down on the floor. You could almost picture him in your head, almost in the same position you were except he was probably messing up his hair, a habit he had when stressed.

Peter replayed the events over and over in his head. As much as he hated to admit it, you had been starring every nightmare he had since that day. He felt extremely guilty as well, he knew it was wrong to leave you alone in that hydra building. In every mission he was always by your side, but this time you insisted you were fine and you would collect the data yourself. You should've never parted ways.

You sighed, you knew he wasn't going to leave any time soon and you were just prolonging your suffering. Maybe if you just let him in for a moment and avoided him he would leave sooner.

Peter quickly got up after hearing you tell FRIDAY to open the door, and he took a deep breath before entering the room. The first thing he saw was you sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at your hands to avoid eye contact with him.

Of course you couldn't look at him, you were afraid to see him laying on the floor bleeding out just like you did days ago.

He stood by the door, afraid to come closer without your approval.

"How are you?" He mentally slapped himself as soon as the words came out, it was stupid question. He was just eager to talk to you. "I ... I'm fine– I mean, everything has almost healed" He felt stupid once again, he wasn't sure if what he was saying was what you wanted to hear.

And it apparently wasn't since you didn't answer, you just kept staring at your hands motionless.

"Love please, I need you to talk to me" He pleaded, his eyes starting to water. He unconsciously stepped forward to reach you but was instantly stopped by your harsh voice.

"Don't come closer, please" You pleaded too, fixing your eyes on the floor.

When Peter heard your voice he felt like a bucket of cold water was thrown over him. There was no warmth, no emotion, no love.

Just like your eyes that day.

"Alright, I want you to listen to me then" He said firmly this time, he was exasperated. "You know it wasn't your fault, whatever they did to you, you're not responsible for that" He began, softer tone this time. "I wish I could make you understand I don't blame you for this, I love you. I still do, I promise"

You finally lifted your head for your bloodshot eyes to meet his. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw his appearance. He did look better than that day, not as swollen and certainly not covered in blood anymore. But there were still bruises scattered through his body, faded out but you could only imagine how they looked before they did. And his eyes? You had never seen him so heartbroken before.

"How could you let me do something like this?" You finally broke the silence, biting the inside of your cheeks to keep you from sobbing.

You didn't mean to blame him, that wasn't your intention even though your words came out harsher than you wished.

But he could've done something. Anything.

"What?" He frowned, that wasn't the response he was expecting from you.

"You could've stopped me, you are strong enough to do it" You said getting up from the bed, all the anger and pain you kept inside was finally coming out. "Why didn't you stop me!?"

"I–I tried, but you wouldn't listen to me" Peter couldn't help but get defensive too. "If I tried any harder I would've hurt you"

"I wouldn't have cared even if you killed me!" Your voice finally gave up and you broke down in sobs, covering your face in your hands.

Your yell startled Peter, and as much as he wanted to hug you he still respected the boundaries you had given him when you let him in. He took a deep breath and exasperatedly ran a hand though his hair, he didn't want to fight you, that's the last thing he wanted.

So instead of yelling back he softened his voice. "I would. I would have cared as much as you care about almost killing me"

You wiped your eyes to look at him again, and you noticed how bad he was restraining himself in his position.

"You can't say shit like that" He continued, trying control his brittle voice. "What happened to you is not fair, for any of us. I'm so sorry I didn't try harder to stop you, but I can't even bring myself to playfully hit your arm, let alone fighting you. Why do you think we never train together? I can't hurt you, I would never want that" He explained himself, sniffling after finishing his sentence.

"But I hurt you"

"You could never hurt me, not on purpose, I know that" He sighed shaking his head, there was only one way to change your mind.

He stepped forward once again, and even though you put your hands in front of your body to stop him, he kept walking this time.

"No no Peter– please don't" You stepped back but stumbled with the bed and couldn't back off anymore.

He gently took your hands and softly caressed them with his thumbs, trying his best to give you a smile.

"Hey hey, it's okay" He reassured you as if he was talking to a baby. "See? Your hands are not hurting me love, I know they won't" He said, you hesitated for a second but you had missed him more than anything, so you couldn't help yourself from jumping into his arms.

"I'm so sorry Peter" You sobbed in his chest as he finally engulfed you into a hug, his warm torso somehow bringing you the comfort you've needed the past days.

"I know" He sobbed too, and planted a kiss on your head. "I'm sorry too"

You broke the distance from the hug just enough to look at him. As he stared back at your teary eyes, he could finally see how broken your soul was.

"Do you really still love me? After what I did I–" You were interrupted by his lips on yours.

The kiss was salty, desperate. Filled with emotion and pain from two broken souls that deserved better. When the kiss was over you genuinely smiled for the first time again, and Peter couldn't help but giggle too.

"Come on, let's heal together love"

Tags (if you want to be added/removed let me know)

@geeksareunique @princessdancingonthesunshine @lyrxbz @spideygirl2003 @parkerpeter24​ @calledthechildanya​

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

Honor him. Younger Mercenary Oberyn Martell x f!reader fanfic. #Writer Wednesday 05/26/2021

Summary: You receive the worst news, Oberyn Martell died, your first lover and the first adventure you lived.

Once when you were younger you ran away from your house escaping an unhappy engagement and the promise of a dull life. But your family hired an elite force of mercenaries to find you not knowing that their leader is a Prince of Dorne.

Word count: 6,5k (ups sorry)

Warning: Blood, violence, Oberyn’s death is mentioned as canon in the book and show, Ophidiophobia(fear of snakes), unhappy arranged marriage, alcohol. +18 SMUT (it means no minors, pls) virgen f!reader, oral sex (f¡ receiving descriptive, male receiving mentioned) p in v sex (unprotected cos there’s no durex in Essos BUT USE PROTECTION IN REAL LIFE PEOPLE) grieving.

A/N: I'M SORRY I'M LATE this is for #Writer Wednesday, the challenge created by @autumnleaves1991-blog

I read the books a long time ago, yep, I’m one of those people that said “I’ll finish them when George publish them all” so I got ASOIAF wiki and run with it, so buckle up for some bad geography from Essos and inaccurate cultural stuff. I think this is the longest thing I’ve written and the smuttiest, so sorry if it’s cringy.

Honor him

“Apparently he won the combat but the wounds were too severe and he died”

You raise your eyes from the book. One of the young servants whispers to another collecting the dead leaves on the ground.

“What is it?”

They rise from the ground nervously expecting that you will scold them for gossiping

“We heard the news from the world. A bard was chanting them on the market, my lady” she approaches the fountain; you’re seated on the ceramic tile, feet inside the water, refreshing from the blazing sun in this part of Essos.

“And what did he say?”

“He said there was a trial in Kingslanding. For the death of king Joffrey, and it was his cousin...”

“His uncle, the imp” clarifies the other and the other girl rolls her eyes

“Yes, his uncle was on trial for his murder. And Prince Oberyn from Dorne was his champion”

“The imp asked for a trial by combat, you see, my lady” adds the other

“He battled the Mountain; he crushed the prince’s skull apparently”

“But! but! His blade had poison on it so the Mountain died too” says the other girl excitedly

“Oberyn died?” you mutter, your hands are limp and you don’t realize that you have drop your book until you hear the “blop” sound in the water and it splashed your tunic

Your mind travels to years past in an instant: A journey through the vast empty lands of this continent and how you loved for the first time.

The pages of your book are getting more and more transparent while the black trickles of ink disappear in the water. You wish to scream, to rip your clothes and your hair out of your scalp but you do nothing.

“Are you alright, my lady?” the girls look at each other when you don’t move or try to retrieve your book from the water.

You always thought the greatest pain he gave you was leaving you at your father’s door many years ago, but now he’s gone forever. You always thought, while looking from your window at night, that you will see him one day, coming back on his dark horse ready to steal you away again, but now that he’s dead that small hope, that tiny flame that you kept in your heart is gone.

Your childish hopes and dreams of reviving your first love are shattered. It’s true that your life has changed, you’re a grown woman now, wiser and experience but you still fantasize over him, seeing his face and his hands on your lovers.

“We should call physician” you heard them whisper, but so far away

“Where is he anyway?”

“At his clinic, you silly girl, run”

“You do not need to call him” you mutter “I’m fine. Excuse me”

Not caring for splashing water all over the house, you run to your chambers and collapse into your bed. Buried in the soft pillows, you cried, muffling your howls with them so nobody could hear. Late in the night the moon and stars shine bright casting bluish shadows in your room.

Your body is tired but restless and in the night shade a timid ray of white light illuminates that small scar in your forearm in the shape of a half-moon. And you kiss it, at least you will always have something of his carved in your skin.

Many years ago. Essos.

“You’re cheating, boy” the big man slams the table, the wooden pieces and the coins that all the players have laid at the center fall down. He points at you spitting from a mouth full of crooked black teeth “Show me your arms, boy, I know you’re lying”

“I’m just lucky, sir” you raise your blouse’s sleeves and your arms up innocently and somehow it makes him angrier

He insults you in whatever language he speaks and slams the table up, the players run and the loud tavern suddenly gets quite, waiting for the next movement. You’re an ant in front of that enormous giant, when he stands tall and walks menacingly towards you, you freeze, he doesn’t listen to you when you apologize, it doesn’t matter anyway, you just did to gain time and look for an exit but the room is too crowded.

“Here, boy, I’ve also many tricks under my sleeve” he has a dirty bag hanging from his belt and takes it and throws it at you. It lands at your feet and for a second you smirk not knowing what a bag could do to you, but then it moves and in a blur you see a green and yellow thing twisting until you feel it pressing and slithering over your body. The snake, a beautiful, shiny creature with vibrant colors faces you hissing and shows its fangs. Everything happens to fast. Out of instinct you protect your face with your arms and the animal understands this as a threat and it bites. The pain rings like a bell all over your body every nerve in your body aflame.

In a second, cold blood wets your face and you gasp when you see the snake’s head slide to the side separated from its body with a clean cut.

“I’m sorry for the demise of your little friend” A tall lean man stands beside the giant. You can’t see his face, since he’s covered with black turban and his body is in full armor. One of his arms still holds a curved sword that has snake blood on it; the other has a dagger pointed to your enemy’s neck.

“That viper was worth more than you or your little friend and you will pay for it”

“I doubt it. You know my little friend here” and he points his sword to you “it’s worth a lot and if I don’t tend to her wound rapidly she will die and that’s a shame. So, decide now, do you want to be a setback or do you want to keep living your stinky life longer?”

By brute force, the giant decides his fate and tries to disarm the man who in a swift movement cuts his throat and his blood and destiny joints that of his pet.

“You’ve been quite difficult to find, child” he opens the fabric covering his face. His eyes are dark, dark beard covers his defined jaw line and an amused smirk graces his handsome face. “Let me see that arm” he lowers his weapons, shamelessly cleaning his dagger on the back of the dead tall man and walks to you until your back is pressed against one of the tavern columns. Sheathing his sword, his hand takes yours and raises your arm, evaluating the wound and he hums deeply “Oh, sweet child”

“Am I going to die?” you cry

“Probably”

“If it’s my father who commands you to find me, I beg you to let me die; I do not wish to go back. Death is better than that dreadful place” you shake your head determined but terrified at the same time. He looks at you with his brow troubled

“Death is never better than anything” and he drags your arm to his face. His dark gaze fix on you while he sucks on the wound so hard that for a moment you think he’s drinking your life away. But then he lets you go and spits to the ground “Let’s hope that’s enough. You will come with me so I can give you the antidote”

“I told you, I have no desire to return to my home”

“It’s a pity, then, that I don’t care about that” he grins.

He gave you so many small jars to drink. Some tasted sweet some bitter and some other made you want to vomit and not drink or eat ever again. But you’re alive. A few hours passed, and then a day, then two, and you’re irrevocably getting back home.

You’ve learnt that your father, in an attempt to find you, has commissioned this elite group of mercenaries to retrieve you; and he’s the leader. It’s a small company but that doesn’t make them any less dangerous. All of them seemed to have many different skills, weapons hidden at every corner of their body, they speak languages you don’t know and you ride your horse tied to it watching each one of them with a suspicious look. After two days riding with them you have decided that there’s no way you could escape now. There’s always one of them standing guard and just a small glare your way gets every thought of escaping out of your head. So, even if it’s dramatic, you decided that your best option is to die. A few days in the desert without water and food and your father will receive a corpse.

“Drink, little girl, you’re withering like a flower” the leader, the man that saved you, says handing you the waterskin

“No, thank you” you turn your head, seated under the shadow of a very thin and dry bush. The orange and violet light announces the immanent sunset where you have stopped for the day.

“You’ve been refusing water all day. You have to drink” he says and pushes the waterskin to your face once more.

“No, thank you” you repeat and he sighs. Thinking you’ve won as he throws the waterskin by his side, you smile subtly until he’s close, crouched down, knees over the sand, looking at you.

“Maybe being a spoiled little flower works for your father, but not to me. Drink or I will make you” He takes your chin and raises it to meet his eyes

“I’m not thirsty” you say, your lips are already dry and they hurt, your tongue is thick inside your mouth and your body screams for just one drop.

“Don’t challenge me, child” he lowers his voice and you gulp

“I’m not a child” you protest, he keeps calling you that and honestly you don’t think he’s much older that you

“Then why do you behave like one? Drink, for the last time” His mouth is a fine line now and his grip on your chin is a little bit firmer

When you don’t answer he opens the waterskin and tucking on your lower lip he pours a small trickle of water in your mouth. The liquid taste sweet, your body works on it own and you open your mouth to drink more with desperation.

“So you weren’t thirsty...stubborn girl” he smirks and you want to slap his smug and beautiful face

He stops pouring water and laughs when you rise up drinking the last drops before he puts the cap on it.

“Look at you, not a withering flower anymore” the mercenary brushes his knuckles over you cheek and you feel them burn “What else do you want?” his thumb caress your chin gathering the small drops of water on your skin and spreads it over your lower lip.

You feel your bones burning, a tension in your lower belly that you haven’t feel many times and that makes you ask for something you don’t even know, so you just answer a timid yes and let him guide you to the fire and the rest of the company.

One of the mercenary is skinning some rabbits, methodically pulling the skin off with blood hands and a deathly gaze fix on you “So she decided to join us” she says

“Oberyn can be really persuasive” another, a big bald man with a beard tinted in blue, adds

So his name is Oberyn, where have you heard that name before?

“Remember that her father is paying for the whole of her, untouched he said” a lean blonde woman, with her face full of black and blue tattoos, is lounged over the bags sharpening her knives

“Well, I hope he doesn’t see her arm, that viper left her with a beautiful scar” Oberyn sits down and helps the mercenary skinning the animals and impales them and puts them to roast on the fire

“I’m not talking about that kind of viper...” she says and the company laughs

“I’m right here” they stop laughing looking at you as if you have done something they deem impossible

“So she speaks” the bearded man says

“She does but it may take some convincing” Oberyn smiles at you over the flames that illuminate his striking and sharp features “If you wish to eat, sweet flower, why don’t tell us how did you escape? We love a good story while we camp”

“Your father was convinced some ragged boy had stole you from your palace” adds the blonde woman

You smile, feeling some kind of pride for your plan, that, looking at it from perspective, did not grant you what you wanted but at least you had a good run. You tell them about how you disguised as a ragged boy lurking a few nights prior your escape so that the servants suspected about somebody being guilty of your disappearing. And how you ran away the night of your betrothal and made it look as if somebody had kidnapped you.

“I ran out of money in Lys so I had to beg, or steal, or gamble for a few coins. And then you found me” you finish your tale, sucking on your fingers, the meat is the best you ever tasted but yet again it must be the hunger from this days refusing to eat or drink.

“I’m almost tempted to let you go, young one, you seem a very resourceful girl” the beard man that you now know as Uhlan smiles at you proudly

“Think about the money” the blonde woman, Rikan, chew on a bone and toss it to the fire

“I’m always thinking about it, why do you think I’m a sellsword?” he jests

“Because you were a street rat with a broad back as broad as your stupidity and it’s the only thing you can do” Rikan spits and Uhlan laughs, a deep and low chuckle that resonates as a thunder.

“She’s a little princess, she couldn’t have survived much longer” the other woman, Shifa adds, the rest of the company has changed the way they look at you, but her. She still squints at you

“There’re princes that have survived worse” Uhlan counters and suddenly there’s a heavy and uncomfortable silence over them. You look at all of them trying to understand and you see Oberyn looking at his feet until he claps his hands together “Let’s get some sleep, we have a long way ahead”

It’s surprising what food, water and company can achieve. You’re smiling more, you almost forget that you will be delivered to your father and future husband within days, Uhlan tells you about his many adventures, how he almost die in Yiti, how he rode once with a Khalassar and that he had seen the great shadow in the East. Rikan has gifted you a knife “a girl needs to defend herself” she said and proceed to show you how to kill a man in many different ways “If you want to kill your husband though, you must ask Oberyn, he’s the one that knows about poisons and how to kill somebody without raising suspicions”

“How does he know that?” you ask, leaning to the right so you get close to her horse, Oberyn rides beside Shifa before you; both of them speaking in a language you don’t understand

“He has studied many things; he’s been all over the world. He was almost a Maester once, but preferred to travel, fight and fuck the world before he gets back to his duties”

“Duties?”

“He’s a prince” she whispers a mischievous smile on her lips “he doesn’t want to talk about it, because it makes people treat him differently or underestimate him. So don’t tell him it was me, blame the big rat”

“Did somebody call me?” Uhlan screams at the back

“You do have a sharp ear when you want, my friend”

You arrive to Myr at dusk. The city is still vibrating, the merchants offering everything you could imagine and the streets smell like thousands spices. And you absorb it all with wide eyes and open mouth.

“It’s a beautiful world, my sweet flower, and you wanted to end your life” Oberyn raises his voice over the people chatting and selling stuff

“If only it could always be like this” you answer, your smile dies in your mouth remembering this is a passing thing. The adventure will be over soon.

“Life gives us many opportunities to dwell in its pleasures; you have only to acquire a keen eye to recognize the perfect moment to seize it”

“Are you implying that I will have another chance to escape?” you scoff

“Maybe...if that is what you want or maybe to enjoy your life as a married woman, who knows”

You sigh deeply trying to ignore the thoughts about your future husband, that drunken bastard, boring and dull that your father chose.

“Or you could run away and avoid your responsibilities; you can create your own destiny, my sweet flower”

“And that’s what you are doing? Avoiding your duties?” you stop in your tracks and he watches you for a moment, chewing on his lower lip

“Maybe” he answers finally

“I’m tired of being treated as if I was overreacting being a spoiled child while you are here doing exactly what I did, ran away, from the duties of a noble life. I’m not overreacting; all I want is to decide if I want to live my life bearing children for my fool husband and maybe die giving birth or out of boredom and disappointment or try my luck in the wild world. Isn’t that what you are doing? Travel, fight and fuck the world? What’s the difference between me and you?” The people surround you, the company has already enter the tavern in front of you knowing they shouldn’t meddle

“Travel, fight and fuck the world seem a pretty good title for a book. Maybe when I’m old I will write my adventures under that title” he laughs

“I’m glad I amuse you” you spat with your arms crossed

“I apologize if I made you feel that I was underestimating you. Do not confuse my laughter with mockery, I know how you feel and I understand.” He comes close to you, each hand on your arms, pressing them lightly “Believe me, I wouldn’t have accepted this job if your father didn’t pay so well. I have to get back home and I want to leave my company with enough resources so they can continue on their own” he explains, he bends his neck so you are so close you can smell his scent, leather, horse and the dessert. “But that doesn’t mean we cannot enjoy ourselves while it lasts” Oberyn smiles and passes his arm over your shoulders “Have you tasted the wine from Myr?” you shake your head “It’s the sweetest”

The wine is starting to play with your mind, your smile falls languidly over the corner of your lips and you don’t know why you’re laughing but whatever song Uhlan is singing is the funniest thing you’ve heard. Rikan laughs by your side, her laugh is actually sweet and high making her look less menacing. Shifa is the only one that doesn’t look amused at all and he drinks from her goblet eyeing the tavern, especially you, with hatred.

“C’mon, Shifa, we know you can smile” Uhlan grabs her in a bear hug but she squeezes herself out of it

“Let me alone, you brute”

“You haven’t talked much since we retrieve the little girl over here, tell us what’s going on in that little twisted mind of yours?” the man jokes and the other mercenary glares at him

“I’m going to my chamber” She drinks the rest of her drink and strides to the rooms, pushing the drunken people in her way

“Leave her, Uhlan! She’s just jealous that her prince is not directing his attentions only to her lately” Rikan says winking at you

Oberyn has been absent having a conversation in another table until he comes back with a serious expression

“I’m partially offended that you think our company it’s not worth your time” Uhlan says sliding to give him enough space to seat by his side

“Huh, so I guess Shifa is not the only one jealous” Rikan drinks looking at him over her goblet

“Shut up!”

“Where is she?” Oberyn asks

“She went to her chamber” Uhlan serves him wine “So what was about those ugly bastards that got your attention; I thought you had a very refined taste”

“Those are Westerosi men; I wanted to get news of the world. Some of us still appreciate the pursuit of knowledge, my friend” Oberyn taps on his big shoulder

“I appreciate the pursuit of a good fuck better, my friend. Let’s see if those Westerosi want to share some news with me, Rikan are you coming? I’m always lucky with you around”

“I don’t like Westerosi” she snarls

“I don’t care, I just need you to be there so they take a good look at your ugly face and they get convinced that fucking with me is the good option of the two of us” he jokes with one of those thunder like chuckles

Rikan laughs and she follows him, waddling towards the men’s table.

“I should go to my room” you say, rising too fast and the whole room twists and turns

“You liked the wine, I see” he observes you grab the wooden table for your dear life until you find your balance

“Too sweet, I haven’t noticed it until it was too late”

“Let me guide you then”

Oberyn grabs you by your waist and helps you climb the stairs to the second floor. People gather around the aisle, laughter and moans fill the air and the heat of Oberyn skin over yours and the boldness giving by the alcohol make you pressed your body against his a little tighter than its necessary.

“This is you” he says opening the door for you

“Is it true what you said about creating our own destiny?” you collapse on his firm chest, your hands brushing over his neck

“Yes, sweet flower”

“Sweet flower” you mimic his accent “Say it one more time” your glossy lips, sticky with wine, leave a kiss on the tan uncover skin of his chest. His laugh makes you raise your head

“You need to sleep, child”

“No, no!” you slap his hand away when he tries to push you inside the room “Don’t call me that, I’m not a child. I’m a woman” you try to fix your posture to seem taller but you body stumbles to one side almost falling down

“What you are is a very inebriated girl. Good night, my sweet flower” he says closing the door

“Are you going to Shifa’s room?” the words escape your lips before you can think and he lingers on the door with an eyebrow raised

“Why do you ask that?”

“I don’t want you to go to her” again the words are out before you process them

“And what do you want me to do?” Oberyn closes the door behind him. And you breathe deeply a mixture of excitement and fear.

“Stay with me” you mutter

“Believe me I would, but you don’t know what you are asking. It is the wine speaking”

“No it’s not” you pout again falling into his arms, hearing how you sound like a spoiled little girl, you cough “It’s not” you repeat

“Right, let me take you to bed then”

You gasp looking at him with wide eyes. Oberyn hugs your body and walks towards the simple bed at the corner until you both fall down on the soft mattress

“Oberyn” you whisper “I have to tell you something before we...”

“Tell me, sweet flower” He lays beside you, posing his head over his fist

“I’m...I’ve never...” you stutter

“No need to worry” with his free hand he starts to brush his index finger from your brow to the tip of your nose so slowly and softly that you feel your eyes closing down

“Are you trying to make me sleep as if I was a puppy?” you slur

“Shh” he continues until the room goes dark and you cannot open your eyes for much that you try

“Sweet dreams, sweet flower” you hear before you blank out.

The sun pierces your eyes as if its rays were daggers. The company laughs at your expense, but yet again, Shifa hisses and insults you in some language but it’s evident that she said something nasty because Oberyn glares at her.

“No more Myr wine for you, little girl” Uhlan laughs helping you get on your horse

“Never” you murmur

The pain in the back of your head and the unstoppable thirst you have makes you moody, and it doesn’t help that you know you’re one day away from your home. But everything is worse with the hard sting of jealousy. It’s not that Oberyn does much, but he rides along side her, speaking in that stupid language you don’t understand, and she makes him laugh, he watches with attention whatever she points at during the way. He looks at her, talks to her. All you want is to rush your stupid horse and take her place.

It gets worse when Shifa sees you observing them; knowing damn well what you feel, she becomes softer, leaving touches on his skin, whispers things on his ear. And you can see the intimacy, the camaraderie that they share and that you will never have. And she’s a woman not a little girl, fierce, independent, and strong; and you cannot stop comparing yourself to her.

You arrive to a small town in between the domains of the two free cities, just hours away from the gates of Pentos.

“We will spent the night here, we need to be presentable for tomorrow”

The town has a small and humble bath house. The simple exterior made of red brick doesn’t show the beauty it has in its interior. The garden inside is made of brick and ceramic creating beautiful arches that frame the pool in the middle; green vines crept over the walls and the tender murmur of water is the only sound you can hear.

“We have rooms to accommodate you for the night once you’re done with your baths” the lady, owner of the house, announces and snaps her fingers towards the servants so they get everything ready.

“Thank you” Oberyn says bowing his head “Wash away the dust of our journey, my friends. Specially you, Uhlan” he jokes, slapping the big man’s belly

“You’re as stinky as me, my prince, but the Gods didn’t give me a beautiful face”

The company strips shamelessly, you think that they’re so comfortable around each other that they don’t think twice before submerge their naked bodies in the fresh water.

You stay by the side, taking off your shoes and rolling your sleeves so you can wash your feet and face. You avert your eyes when you see that Oberyn’s armor is on the floor. Your eyes fixed on the water and the blue tiles at the bottom, but you cannot stop from raising your eyes just a little.

His magnificent, strong, and tight body, his beautiful golden skin is marked in scars in some parts, you see the muscles on his legs tensing and relaxing as he gets in the pool. Your eyes travel through the room to avoid seeing him in his full grace.

“C’mon child, you don’t want to be stinky when you meet your father” Rikan splash water at you

“I-I”

“Let her be, she’s scare of my big cock” Uhlan laughs

“That thing that you can barely get up? C’mon, child, it is harmless” The blonde mercenary swims towards you and grabs your hand to pull you in

“Rikan, leave her, let’s finish and we will leave her some privacy” Oberyn says under the small waterfall brushing his skin with a small piece of soap

“Your husband’s eyes will be the only ones that will see you naked” Shifa says and she swims towards Oberyn. Her body is toned and muscular. She joints him under the water stream and when she tries to touch him, he moves away.

You don’t want to smile, but you do, until you remember that he refused you the other night and tonight is the last night you’ll spend with them. Shifa will have him for whatever time she wants.

Eventually they leave the pool, putting on some fresh clothes and rubbing some scent oils on their skins and they look different, less mercenary and more like elite warriors with a thousand adventures to tell. You will miss them; they are the only friends you have ever had.

“Thank you” you say stopping their banter over who’s going to take which room, they look at you confused “Thank you for rescuing me” you say with a trembling voice

“It’s nothing, child” Uhlan says and you see his big eyes shine

“We will give you some privacy” Rikan nods

When they are away you take off those stinky clothes you’ve been wearing since you escape. You moan feeling the water soften your muscle and you enjoy the strong cascade of water hitting your back until your bones feel like liquid inside your skin.

“I never expected you to thank us for getting you to your father” his voice gets you out of the trance, and you don’t open your eyes when you hear the soft sound of clothes hitting the ground and the splash of water when he gets inside the pool again.

“I didn’t thank you for that, but for rescuing me” you answer still your eyes closed under the waterfall “And saving my life” you pass your hand over the now healed wound, a moon shape scar where he suck the venom out of you.

Oberyn fingers grab your wrist, raising your arm towards his lips and planting kisses alongside your veins until he arrives to the thicker skin of the scar, sucking again on it.

“Do you still believe that it was better to let you die from the snake’s bite than to be back home?” he whispers against your skin, his beard tickling you over your pulse

“I still can run away” you open one eye. Oberyn looks amused at you

“Will you?” he asks saving the distance between you

“I don’t know. Will you come get me if I do?” You approach him, intertwining your hands on his neck

“The world is big and beautiful; it will be a shame that a sweet flower like you rots in a place like this all her life” he turns his head and leaves a kiss on each of your arms

“So that’s a no” you laugh but the pain in your heart is real

“I have to leave Essos soon, I guess the time for adventures is up” he exhales deeply

“Just the last one then” you’re surprised of your boldness when you rise on your tiptoes to kiss his lips

It is soft at first. Just tasting him, tempting him to show you more, and he does. Oberyn opens his mouth and sucks on your lower lip and when your mouth is open he savors you with his tongue. He holds your face on his large palms guiding you softly until the kiss deepens and your hands leave his neck roaming through his back and he reciprocates. His hand caresses every inch from your neck to your arms. You moan in protest when he breaks the kiss but then his kisses move to your neck nibbling your skin. He pampers every part of you with his attention, soft kisses and bites over the top of you breast.You cry out laughing when he grabs you and rise by the waist so he can access your tits. You circle his waist with your legs and you hold yourself on his shoulders.

Any good sense in you, any coherent thought gets lost one his mouth sucks on your nipples and you kiss his head trying to control your panting. The sounds that come out of you seem so far away, his low grunts and moans over your breast melt you and you feel the heat gathering between your legs.

“My sweet flower, you have the sweetest tits” he moans and he lowers you so he can kiss you one more time. You run your fingers over his dark hair, his impossibly close to you but you need more. You need him like those drops of water he poured in you the first time. The hunger, the jealousy and desire you felt these past days have reached its peak and you think your heart will collapse. You repeat his name on his lips like a plea.

Oberyn carries you to the side of the pool, and you feel your cheeks burning, your body in goose flesh feeling exposed and at his mercy now that the water is not covering you. He takes his time admiring you, his brow eyes eating every pore of your skin. Kissing your legs he parts them grabbing you by the hips he positions you just at the edge of the pool. He palms your breasts one more time, gracing each nipple with a small pinch that makes you moan loudly. You get flustered, gaining a bit of your conscience back

“No need to be shy, my love, let go. I wish to hear every sweet moan, drink every drop of this sweet cunt” he plants a kiss on your navel, before lowering his face. His first lick between your lips makes you marvel of the unknown sensation. His eyes are fixed on you while he licks faster and sucks between your small lips, when you tense, every single fiber of your body burning, he changes his rhythm, lapping languidly all your sex and back again, fast and slow, and never too much. Until you’re gasping for air and pushing him away

“Please, it’s too much”

“Let me show you, trust me” his wet mouth bites you inner thigh before he starts again. This time you reach the point of no return faster. A wide abyss before you where you skin burns and you heart beat faster until you fall, crying his name. And he holds you, planting kisses all over you body, every part he can reach. The gasps lead to laughter

“What happe...how?” you ask

“I have many things to show you my sweet flower” he smiles

Oberyn lets you in his room. The warm night breeze moves the white curtains and the moonshine casts its rays so you can see him get on top of you with the warmest of smiles.

“Do you still want this, my flower?” he asks

You grab him by the neck and let your lips answer for you. Lowering your touch you push his back so he presses his body against you even tighter.

“Please, please” you beg on his ear

He reaches between your bodies and brushes the tip of his cock on your lips coating it in your arousal, before pushing gently. You gasp at the intrusion; it’s not pain what you feel but definitively a bit uncomfortable at first

“Let me in, my sweet, relax for me” Oberyn bends his neck to kiss and bite your tits. The pleasure turns your body into a withering mess until you’re full of him.

He moves lazily at first letting you grow used to his length and width while he observes your face

“Is it alright my love?”

“I need more” you murmur

“More?” He rises, pressing the weight of his body on his knees and opens you wider grabbing the soft skin on your hips “Like this?” he thrusts deep and fast with each word and you nod biting your lip. His pace is unforgiving, and you cannot think, all you can feel is him, and his sweet words and praises combined with the slaps of wet skin and the creaks of this old bed. Your fingers scratch softly on his chest trying to hold into something when you feel that abyss again, but this time you let it go and it hits you harder. Oberyn collapses over you letting your cunt squeeze him even tighter, slowly dragging himself in and out until he sense his release coming and he pushes harder once, twice until he spills his warm seed.

You kiss his brow, wet from exhaustion and the pool, in a way the cage he’s forming with his body pressed against the mattress is the freest you have ever felt.

The dawn wakes you up, many years later, a harrowing pain in your chest remembering how he kissed you a thousand times, how you slept caged in his arms for a few hours and then woke up with his face between your thighs

“Does it hurt?” he asked and you flinched, feeling the swollen and sensitive skin “I will kiss it better” he said. And you made love again, he moved you in the bed showing how to touch your body and how to touch him, how to pleasure him with your mouth as he did to you. Until the sun invaded the room and crashed your safe space between the shadows. You could no longer hide from your destiny, it was time to go.

He left you, a small and decent kiss on your hand and bid you farewell wishing you a happy life.

You remember running, not paying attention to your father’s complaints and your mother’s cries while you soon-to-be husband drank wine unbothered by the whole thing. You ran to the balcony watching his dark horse taking him out of the city.

He never looked back, and with his parting figure you promised you will live your life happy even if you have to run for it. That you will live adventures on your own until life gives you the last drop of its joy and pleasure. In a way you promised to honor him without knowing one day it will come true.

So you woke up, older, wiser, in your own house, after many adventures lived, and after a sleepless night mourning him, you grab paper and ink and write:

“Travel, fight and fuck the world: the Adventures of an Unusual Lady”

[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 28 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: Negan is slowly getting on good terms with the Alpha, the reader is slowly becoming desperate, and Alpha has a plan in motion. 

Word Count: 4243

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Little Black Submarines” by The Black Keys

Note: I am trying to finish this before the 28th when TWD returns. Remember, this will not go past the 10B finale. Some of these chapters are getting shorter, but that is mainly because Chapter 30, which is the hilltop battle, will be quite long! ALL OFFICIAL DIALOG IS PROPERTY OF AMC.

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"Well, that's...creative,” Negan said as he was looking at the disassembled body that sat at the Southern border. Negan thought the tiki torches were a nice touch even if they were a tad dramatic and that was coming from him.

It was early that morning when Alpha approached him and told him to follow her. Knowing his history with her enemy, she had asked for his counsel on an issue. Considering they hadn’t known each other long, Negan was confused but went along with it anyways. However as soon as he saw what was at the border, he knew what was going on. The other side had finally made their move. 

"They are declaring war," Alpha said, tilting her head to the side. Negan noticed that she did that a lot and it made him both uncomfortable and intrigued. 

"Isn't that what you did when you put nine of their people on pikes?" Negan asked. Alpha looked at him with a neutral expression. Negan shrugged, the bat on his back shifting on his leather jacket. Alpha had returned his weapon shortly after they had met. She said that if he had even attempted to try to swing it without her permission Beta would gut him within seconds. Negan didn't doubt that. The giant man was even more psychotic than Simon was and that was saying something. Negan was always wishing for a gun whenever Beta was around and he could bet that you were too. 

"The archer?" Alpha asked, her voice quiet but still very calm and emotionless. Negan took a few steps towards the dead man and kneeled to look at the body and then up at the decapitated head.

Seeing as there were no penetrating wounds that Daryl’s bow would have caused, Negan didn't think this was his handy work. Also, if it had been Daryl, he probably wouldn’t have taken the head off. Daryl was ruthless when he needed to be, but removing the head like this was too personal and if Negan knew Daryl even a little bit, he would have done something more simple. No, this was someone else. 

"No," Negan said, moving the body onto its back. The headless body reminded him too much of Glenn and Abraham, especially with the amount of blood. It was never a good moment when he thought about his victims, especially when he was portraying a persona who was supposed to enjoy the kill rather than shying away from it. Shutting away those memories, Negan examined the other wounds carefully. 

Looking at the clean cut at the neck and then the two hits to the chest and eye, Negan realized something. It was a clean kill with a sharp blade. There wasn't any type of torture or prolonging of death. With the depth and width of the strikes, he finally recognized the blade.

Jesus' broadsword. Your sword.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath.

"Do you know who did this?" Alpha asked. Negan shut his eyes for a second before turning to her with his own neutral expression, not letting her see how affected he was by his discovery. 

"Couldn't say for sure, most of those assholes handle blades."

"Shame, he was a good soldier," said Alpha. Negan furrowed his brow.

"He was one of your men?"

"Sent him in to...gain information," she said. "Didn't think he'd be this foolish to be caught."

"Can't all be winners," Negan said, turning his attention back to the body. He had seen a lot of dead bodies since the world ended, but there was something about this one that was bothering him. You were not this...cold. At least not since he had gotten to know you. There was something off about the way you had done this. Anyone else, besides maybe Daryl, wouldn’t have noticed, but he did. 

Negan had only seen this deadly side of you a few times and it made him do a double-take every time. The first time had been that first night in the clearing. You were nearly out of it, blood trickling down your collar. 

He had just threatened Rick and was laying down the rules when his eyes had fallen on you. Dwight had to keep his hands on you in order for you to stay upright, but you were still hanging on. Your arm was reaching out to Daryl next to you, not quite touching him, but enough for the archer to know you were there. 

Your eyes, however, were switching from staring at the ground to staring at him. Negan wasn’t sure if you could actually see him at that point. Throughout his speech, his eyes kept flickering back to you as you fought to stay upright and awake.

When he killed Abraham, your eyes never left Lucille and the blood that dripped off her wooded form. It was only after he had Daryl pinned to the ground and Glenn’s blood was splashed against your face that you locked eyes with him and in those irises, he saw pure fury. It wasn’t long after that first look when you fell over from the head trauma. 

However, that one look was enough for him to remember you. The second time he saw that look was when he had brought Carl home from the Sanctuary. You didn’t seem to care about Spencer and while you were pissed about Olivia, nothing bothered you as much as seeing him parading Carl around Alexandria. While he didn’t speak to you, seeing your glare from the top of the Gazebo as he walked in had made him remember your face from the clearing. 

It was from then on that he found himself always looking for you when his people met yours. Little did he know that your talents with a rifle had you always watching him rather than the other way around. You were always so precise with your shots so he shouldn’t have been surprised to see how clinical you had been with Dante’s body. However, the idea of you removing his head and doing this made him a bit sick. Though, he didn’t let Alpha see a second of that. 

“How are you going to retaliate?” Negan asked. 

“I have something in motion,” Alpha simply said. 

“Can I get a hint?” Negan asked with a sly grin. Alpha just looked at him with her signature look and Negan raised his hand in surrender. “No worries. Gotta win the boss’ respect, I get it. 

“You talk too much,” she observed as she turned away from the border. 

“So I’ve been told,” he said, catching up to her. “Force of habit, I’m afraid.” 

“Tell me more about these people who held you captive,” Alpha said. 

“Not much more to say,” Negan said. “Their old leader is dead and their new ones don’t really know what the hell they’re doing. Got some good fighters, but they don’t have a central person. They don’t have an alpha,” he said. 

“Then they have weak spots,” Alpha realized. 

“More than one, I bet,” Negan said. 

“Have you seen my daughter with them?” she asked and Negan forced himself not to hesitate. 

“Lydia, right?” he asked and Alpha nodded once. “She’s around, seems to be alright.” Negan tried to get a line on Alpha’s reaction to hearing about her daughter, but like with everything, the woman remained stoic. He also then noticed some discoloration on her arms. It didn’t take long for him to realize they were the same wounds that adorned Lydia’s arms. Negan fought to keep relaxed as he remembered what Alpha had done to her child. You had told him about the abuse, it was one night when he had been able to spend the night with you…

Months earlier…

The cold air from the winter weather outside seemed to be seeping through the walls as if they were made of paper.

Negan lay next to you in your bed, his arms securely around your waist. He had only woken up a few moments ago and couldn’t help but watch as you slept peacefully next to him. These nights when Michonne and Gabriel found that they still had a heart and would let him spend the night indoors rather than freezing in his cell were his favourite.

Whatever the reason was, he was just happy to be there with you. With a deep breath, you turned towards him, slowly waking up. Your eyes opened just a bit to see him and when you did, a tired smile spread across your face. “Why are you awake?” you whispered. 

“Why are you?” he countered, leaning down to kiss your forehead. Being able to kiss you or hold your hand whenever he could, was the greatest gift anyone could have given him. Negan was desperate for your touch and whenever you gave it to him, he relished in it.

Reaching up, you caressed his face as he leaned into your palm. Even with the cold weather, he had stripped off his shirt, using his own body heat to keep you as warm as possible. Dancing your fingers across the tattoos on his chest, he shivered under your touch. Just as he was about to pull you on top of him, a noise broke the tension.

Confused, you both looked at each other before sitting up in bed. A second later and the noise happened again and Negan finally realized where it was coming from. Nudging you, he pointed over the side of the bed. Crawling to the edge, you looked down to see Lydia fast asleep on your floor, a blanket thrown over her as she softly snored. 

You and Negan shared a look then that said everything you both were thinking: the teenager was scared. Lydia must have snuck into your bedroom just as you both had fallen asleep. She had been staying in the guest room downstairs, but you now figured that she wasn’t used to sleeping alone. 

“Do we wake her?” you asked him. Negan shook his head, grabbing you again and pulling you back into bed. He slid his arms around you and tucked your head under his chin. 

“Let her sleep,” he said in your ear. “The girl has been through enough.”

“And yet she feels safe enough to sleep in here? She barely knows me, knows us,” you argued.

“She trusts you,” he said. “She needs you.”

“She needs someone who can protect her from her mother,” you said. “I won’t let Alpha lay another hand on her. She is never going to be hurt by someone she loves again.” 

“Her mother is abusive?” Negan asked and you just nodded.

“Shit,” he swore, pressing his nose into the back of your neck. 

“I have to protect her, Negan,” you said as you rolled over and lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. 

“You will,” he promised. “We will.” Looking up at him, he leaned in and kissed you firmly before tugging the blanket up further onto your shoulders. 

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you, too,” Negan said. “Forever.”

Negan was pulled out of the memory as he and Alpha arrived back at the Whisperer’s main camp. An ache had opened up in his chest as he thought about you, but he kept it suppressed. He had come too far to mess up now. Especially since Alpha had taken an interest in him. 

As Alpha went off to do whatever she did during the day, Negan began scouting the camp. He checked out how many people were in her little army and the kind of weaponry they had. There was no way that she would have everything out on display for some newcomer, but he was getting a decent idea of who these Whisperers were and he hated them more by the second. 

It was a little while later when he ran into one of Alpha’s scouts. The man looked worried, but angry as well. “What’s got you all freaked out?” he asked the man. 

“Enemy near border,” was all the man said. 

“Did ya tell the boss?” 

“Can’t find the Alpha,” the scout said. 

“Big man went that way,” Negan said, pointing towards where he saw Beta disappear earlier. The scout nodded to him and went on his way. While Negan knew he should be doing more to be seen as a “team player”, curiosity got the best of him and he headed towards the border from which the scout was coming from. 

It wasn’t far, and he figured it was probably Carol trying to figure out a weakness in Alpha’s defenses. However, it could have been another body drop, which would only light Alpha’s fury even more. Then again, Negan wasn’t sure if she really cared if a few of her men and women were sacrificed for her greater good. Just another thing Negan hated about the woman. 

Continuing through the thick trees, it took him a bit longer to reach the ridge that looked over the specific border he was looking for. As soon as he made it to the tree line, he was struck by what he saw. It wasn’t Carol at all or even Daryl. 

It was you. 

You, and the young woman he knew as Enid, were walking along the invisible line that separated your territory from Alpha’s. Walkers were following you as you and Enid took them out with quick and fast strikes of your sword and her knife. 

His heart jumped in his chest at the sight of you. He couldn’t hear what you were saying, but there was something about your body language that made him worried. 

There was a hardness to you that he hadn’t seen in a while. There was no doubt in his mind now that you had been the one to put the Whisperer’s head on the pike. Watching as you killed the Walkers, all he wanted to do was reveal himself, to tell you that he was still there, but he couldn’t. Still, he didn’t move as you continued to cut down the undead enemy, whether it was risky or not.

-------

The weather was heating up and you didn’t like it at all.

Kicking out at another Walker, you kept walking, ignoring Enid’s looks that she had been sending you since you had met up with her earlier in the day. “You know, if you want to say something, just say it,” you finally said. 

“I’m not sure you want to hear it,” Enid said. 

“Try me,” you said. Enid sighed but finally said her piece. 

"Antagonizing her wasn’t the best idea, (Y/N)," Enid said as she pulled her blade out of another Walker.

"What else was I supposed to do? I am sick of playing offense," you said, slashing down another Walker who came at you. Flicking away the blood off your sword you continued forward. It had been a long day and a long night. Siddiq was finally resting with Coco not far from him. Rosita was feeling better and everything back home was finally getting back to normal. It was only the external force that threatened your family now.

"You need a strategy," Enid said and even with your back turned to her, you knew that she was giving you one of her "doctor looks".

"I have one," you argued.

"Is that why Lydia is out there by herself?" Enid asked. Looking over your shoulder, you narrowed your eyes.

"I didn't tell you that for you to judge me," you said. After reviewing the maps, Lydia noticed a few landmarks that you had circled in red. She was sure that she knew where she could start looking. According to Lydia if Negan was your family, he was hers as well. Lydia had left early that morning with the promise that she would be back within a day or so.

"I can't believe you let her out there alone," Enid said.

"She knows what she's doing," you argued.

"She's a child!"

"So were you when you fought against the Saviors," you reminded her.

"That was different," Enid said.

"No it wasn't," you said. "Lydia was raised in this world. She knows what needs to be done and so do I."

"You're losing yourself in this vendetta against Beta and this drive to find Negan."

“Weren’t you just telling me that it was okay that I was still doing that?” you asked her. 

“I didn’t mean for you to go all slasher film on Dante,” she accused. 

“I had to send a message,” you said, ducking under another Walker’s arms and shoving your blade into the back of its skull, sending it to the ground to join the others. 

“To Alpha or to Negan?” she asked. 

“Does it matter?” you snapped back. 

“You still think he’s around, don’t you?” she asked. Pausing, you took a moment to collect yourself. When you had invited Enid out to join you, you hadn’t expected a full-blown interrogation. You figured that she would still be rather reserved from the trauma she had sustained, but clearly, she was doing better than you thought. 

“Yes,” you said with a sigh. “I don’t know what he’s doing, but I don’t believe that he’s completely gone.”

“What if…” Enid began. “What if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not,” you said defiantly. “I can feel it. He’s not lost and I will find him.”

“Just prepare yourself, okay?” she offered, landing a comforting hand on your shoulder. You let the weight of her touch soothe you as you got your thoughts together. It hadn’t been that long since you had last seen him, but it had been long enough. Waking up in the middle of the night, you found yourself reaching for him next to you only to find the spot empty. That coldness that echoed in your blankets mimicked itself in your heart and it was only a matter of time before your entire body froze over. 

You needed him home and you needed him now. 

A chill ran up your spine just then, that feeling of being watched returning. Turning towards the tree line, you narrowed your eyes. You knew it was a risk to be this close to the border, but you were willing to risk it. However, if the Whisperers were watching you this closely, it wasn’t for regular observation. 

“What’s wrong?” Enid asked, noticing the change in your behavior. 

“We need to go,” you said, gripping your sword tighter. You began to move back towards the main road when your radio lit up. 

“(Y/N), come in,” Carol’s voice crackled over the line. 

“I’m here,” you responded. 

“I need you back home,” she said simply and that was all you needed. 

“On my way,” you said before hooking the radio back onto your belt. “Come on, I gotta get back,” you said to Enid who began to follow you to the point where you both would turn off to go home to your respective communities. Just as you were about to leave the clearing, you glanced back over at the tree line and you swore you saw someone watching you. 

---------

Negan watched as you disappeared again and was frozen in that spot for a while before deciding to head back. 

It was dark when he finally returned to the camp. If anyone asked, Negan would say he got lost. He didn’t want to be around people and he didn’t want to be around Beta especially. He needed a moment to clear his head, though that did turn into several hours. 

Arriving back into the fold, Negan was glad to see that he wasn’t met with spears or blades. In fact, it seemed as if nobody noticed that he was actually gone. Negan figured that nobody would really care if he had left. Then again, as he approached the fire, he did happen to see one person who looked up as soon as he was in view. Alpha had returned from wherever she had been.

The woman looked incredibly determined and actually quite smug. It made Negan a bit nervous. Still, he sauntered over to her, leaning into his hips with that sly grin on his face. “Just the Alpha I was looking for,” he said. 

“What do you want?” she asked. 

“I wanted to talk,” he said. 

“About?”

“Well, I hear we're supposed to be keeping our eyes peeled for a spy lurkin' in the woods. I have an alternate theory to run by you,” Negan offered. Alpha gestured for him to sit down and he did. 

“Go on,” she said. 

“The spy you're looking for? Right here in your camp,” Negan said, enacting the next part of his plan. Divide and conquer. 

“My people know the enemy have nothing to offer except lies,” Alpha said. 

“Maybe they do. Maybe they don't. Believe it or not, I have been where you are right now. And if you don't want to end up where I am right now, I suggest you zig where I zagged,” said Negan. Alpha narrowed her eyes. 

“You and I, very different,” Alpha said with a dismissive look, but Negan didn’t back down. 

“I had people. I had a system. I thought they believed in it, just like you,” a flash of Simon’s traitorous face echoed in his mind and Negan pushed it down. “See, the thing is, you stay king or queen long enough, with people telling you all day, every day that your shit don't stink, eventually, you start to believe it. The thing is it still stinks.”

“Who?” Alpha asked, getting impatient.

“Well, based on my own personal experience, I'd say look closer to home. And, no, I am not talkin' about Frankenstein's Hemorrhoid. That big dude is clearly a goose stepper. But the little one?” Negan said, referencing Gamma. “You see, she is close enough to you that she knows exactly where that horde is. But she guards the border, which means she's close enough to the enemy that they could've gotten to her.” 

Negan had overheard Gamma a day ago telling Alpha about a man with a metal arm. Negan wasn’t surprised to hear that Aaron was trying to be a hero. He was the type. However, this news did offer him an advantage. He didn’t think Alpha would care much about Aaron, which was good because his death was the last thing Negan wanted. He actually quite liked the man. Gamma, however, Negan didn’t care at all what happened to her.

Alpha didn’t like his tone all that much after his suggestion. “I will not have you sowing paranoia,” she said and then drew her knife, levelling it at his groin. “If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will take these,” she said, pressing the blade to his jeans. 

“Fair enough,” Negan breathed as the blade bit into his inner thigh. When Alpha withdrew the blade, she returned to staring into the fire with a proud look on her face. While he didn’t plan on sowing any further paranoia, he had planted that small seed in her brain which was exactly what he wanted to do. After a moment longer, curiosity got the best of him.

“You look rather thrilled,” he said, breaking the silence. “Did I miss something while I was out taking my evening stroll?” he asked. Alpha looked back at him as she cleaned her nails with her knife. 

“Our problem won’t be lasting much longer,” she said and a coldness fell over Negan. He had a sudden image of your head on a spike and it made him feel rather sick. Like always, he pushed it down. 

“What did you do?” he asked in a teasing tone, leaning closer to her. Alpha looked at him and there was mischief in her eyes. It was the kind that made Gotham villains so special and the kind that Negan really didn’t like.

“Carol wanted the horde,” Alpha said slowly, “and so I gave it to her.” Negan didn’t know what that meant, but he didn’t like the sound of it. He knew that Carol was out for blood when it came to Alpha and that she had been quite reckless with her vendetta. He remembered the day he went home and found out that she had taken a shot at the leader of the Whisperers. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had tried again. However, based on how elated Alpha looked at the moment, it seemed that Carol had lost this round. 

Looking back at her, Alpha was watching him with a fire in her eyes that wasn’t solely mischief. If the circumstances were different and he wasn’t in love with you, he may have taken her up on the question that was so clearly written in her irises. Yet, he knew he wouldn’t. If there was any chance that he would get back to you, he didn’t need something that big weighing on him. You could forgive a lot, but him taking a tumble with the enemy would not be something you could turn the other cheek with. 

Negan distracted himself then, looking around the camp at the masked soldiers. However, one in particular was still missing.

Where was Beta? 

--------

In the dark of a cave, survivors struggled to find the light. 

Then as night settled on Alexandria, a grave was no longer empty as a large shape, armed with knives, emerged into enemy territory.

TAGS: @lucillethings @cameronsails @stark-dreams @amaroho @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner @boom-bunny @delusionalteenagewhispers @scootankle @ritajammer21 @writteriguess @tea-atfive @jennydehavilland @waspyyy @yespleasejayhalstead @hoemadegrace @writingdeadangel @huffledor-able541 @pulplorrd @felicisimor

[starryse]

Hot & Cold

13 Days of SVT Christmas- Day 3

Jeonghan x Reader

Fluff, Christmas au, friends?enemies? to lovers au

2.2k

Snow was a given on Christmas, that, anyone knew. It wasn’t odd for inches of snow to cover the ground, and for the sky to be a bright white instead of its normal shades of blue. However, when it comes to Christmas plans, everyone seems to forget about the same snow they had been squealing about days prior.

You weren’t an exception.

Your breath fogged the window in front of you, the dew forming blurring the outside view. Groaning, you dropped your head down, forehead resting on the cold glass.

You didn’t mind staying cooped up inside when the roads were too dangerous to drive on, in fact, you loved it. It was a nice change of pace when you had to stay home; rather than having thousands of plans a day with only 24 hours to do them, your only option was to relax and work around the house. But when your roommate's annoying friend was also going to be snowed in with you, you couldn’t dread it anymore.

“Aww what’s wrong y/n? Hot date get canceled cause of the snow?”

You backed away from the window, a slight red mark left on your forehead. “Actually no, I’m just so excited to be stuck with you,” you scoffed.

Jeonghan’s smug smile grew, a dramatic sigh leaving his lips as he plopped onto the couch, “ah ditto, beautiful. I can’t wait to spend Christmas with you.”

“Please can you stop arguing for just 5 minutes? We’re snowed in for God knows how long, try and get along”

You and Jeonghan turned your heads towards the scruff voice belonging to your friend. His hand rubbed his creased forehead, eyes squinting shut. You sighed, nodding your head as you walked over to the male, “I’ll do my best, just keep your little devil in check and we’ll be fine”

Jeonghan cackled, leaning over the couch, white-sleeve cladded arms resting on the back, “does that mean you’re my angel?”

You groaned as you walked away from the smirking dark haired man on the couch, “Oh my God I’m going to my room”

“Can I join?!”

You flipped off the laughing male, quickly shutting your door right after.

The sun had begun to set, the snow just barely letting up from earlier. The sunset outside shown through the sheer curtains in your room, soft orange hues reflecting onto your walls. You had been in your room for a few hours, most of which were spent groaning and whining about the crazy amount of work you had to complete before next semester (which was in a week). The other good chunk of the time was you lounging on your bed, fingers mindlessly scrolling through your phone as you mentally prepared yourself to be in the presence of Jeonghan for what could be days.

Yours and Jeonghan’s relationship was a complicated one. Simple really to your shared close friends (which happened to be all of your friends), to them it was mere sexual tension, convinced you both had to big of egos to fuck one out. Meanwhile, to outsiders it may seem as if you truly hated one another, that the pure existence of each other was the bane of your lives. But for you, you didn’t know what it was. You didn’t hate Jeonghan, God no. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t enjoy his remarks from time to time. And maybe you found him incredibly attractive. Also you 100% daydreamed about him more than you’d like to admit.

No. No no. He annoyed you. Constantly antagonizing everything you did, whether it was when you tripped over nothing and landed on a pile of Mingyu’s dogs shit, or when you were rejected by the waiter you had tried flirting with. Jeonghan always had some remark that made your blood boil.

But he was also the same guy who knew how hard you had studied for your exam, only for you to fail it, and proceed to comfort you and order you takeout. And there were all the times where Coups couldn’t come home and Jeonghan offered to stay with you (he knew how much you hated being alone at night.) He’s confusing. But then again you could only guess you were too.

“Hello my angel, dinners readyyy”

Jeonghan stood at your door, his body leaning against the frame. His dark hair casted over his eyebrows, hair parting to reveal his forehead and the small scar above his eyebrow (you may or may not have accidentally did that when you first met).

You rolled over from your previous position facing your window. Sitting up, you stretched your arms as you twisted your back. Jeonghan couldn’t help but shamelessly watch as your shirt clung to your skin as you moved, he was a simple guy. His eyes quickly darted up towards yours when you gazed over at him.

“Sooo why are you still standing there?”

Your question seemed to snap him out of his haze, his mouth stuttering out random words before he flipped you off and “ran” back out the door. That seems to be a common occurrence in the house. You snorted, standing up from your bed to go eat dinner.

“They say that the snow isn’t going to let up anytime soon. Don’t be surprised if we’re snowed in the next 2 days” Seungcheol leaned back on the couch, his elbow propped on the arm rest, head in his hand as he flipped through the Netflix shows.

You sat between the boys, feet propped on the coffee table in front of you,“can’t we watch a Christmas movie, Christmas is literally tomorrow?” Your answer was quickly given when Cheol kicked your legs off the table, causing them to fall onto the ground with a thud. You muttered a few curse words under your breath, bringing your legs up to sick criss cross on the couch.

Jeonghan laughed as he watched the two of you banter over something as little as a Christmas movie, though he wasn’t entirely surprised- you were both immensely stubborn.

Waiting for the perfect timing, Jeonghan slyly reached behind your back, grabbing the remote from the crack of the couch between you and Cheol. His eyes darted from the tv to you two as he sneakily flicked on a movie.

The sound of Christmas bells and people talking caught both yours and the pouty man on your lefts attention, your mouths shutting as you turned to the tv screen.

A loud screech erupted from your mouth, your legs quickly bouncing on the floor as you pointed a finger at the pouting man, “YES! In your face, Cheol! Christmas wins again!” Said man slunk down in his seat, half of his body towards the floor as he groaned in annoyance, “Jeonghan really? I thought you were on my side man”

Jeonghan merely laughed, his arm patting Seungcheol’s shoulder, “What can I say, I’m a sucker for Christmas movies,” his eyes drifted over at you, watching as yours lit up in delight as you watched the movie in front of you, “and maybe I like seeing others happy.”

Seungcheol only sighed, knowing fair well why the dark haired boy betrayed him. Oh how he had looked forward to being a third wheel.

It was close to midnight now, the first movie had been done for a few hours as the 3rd one ran. The small living room was lit up by the lights strung on the tree in the corner and the strands along the archway. You may have fallen asleep halfway during the 2nd movie, leaving just Coups as Jeonghan fell asleep in the beginning of the 3rd.

Seungcheol looked over towards your two huddled figures. You were stuck to Jeonghan’s side like glue, his arm drapes around your side, hand pressed against your hip. The blanket previously wrapped around you was now discarded on the floor, the only thing keeping you from freezing was whatever body heat Jeonghan was radiating without a blanket himself. The eldest sighed, muttering an idiots under his breath as he stood up, tossing the blanket over the two of you before switching off the tv and heading to bed.

“MERRRRYY CHRISTMAS!!”

You moaned, leaning your body away from the sound, stuffing your head into the closest thing next to you. The feeling of hair in your mouth caused you to spew, your eyes peeling open as you lifted your head. The view of Jeonghan’s head right next to yours made you gasp, your eyes widening in shock. You glared over at Seungcheol who stood in front of you with a smug grin, similar to the one the sleeping boy always wore, “Seungcheol. What am I doing?”

The boy tilted his head in mock confusion, “well it seems to me you’re sleeping with Jeonghan?” You scrambled up, grabbing the pillow next to you before wacking the manically laughing man as he ran to sit next to the tree. The sudden movement caused said boy to stir, his hands rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

You halted your movement, turning to look at Jeonghan who was now sitting half awake beside you on the couch.

“Merry Christmas”

You quickly answered back, a slight pink rising to your cheeks at his deeper than normal voice. God bless mornings.

Seungcheol clapped his hands, a grin etching across his face as he leaned his body over to grab one of the presents underneath the tree, “y/nnn, this ones for you!”

You smiled back, standing up from your seat, dropping the blanket on the floor in the process as you walked over to sit next to Cheol. You grabbed the present from him as he waved one of his hands at Jeonghan, the dark haired boy getting the hint as he tiredly walked over next to you. You waited for Seungcheols cue to open it, his head nodding. You greedily tore the wrapping paper off, the scraps falling onto the floor as well as Jeonghan’s legs that were sprawled in front of him. The boy looked at you, eyes squinting, “in a hurry much are we Y/n?”

You ignored his comment, instead gasping at the camera you’ve been wanting that sat in your hands. Your eyes widened, body immediately flinging into Coups’ already open arms, “you’re the bestest best friend ever, thank you Cheol.”

Seungcheol squeezed you one more time before you leaned back onto your knees in front of the tree. You passed one of the presents from you to Seungcheol, placing it in his hands that were held out flat in front of him. For a 25 y/o, he sure was giddy like a child when it came to presents.

The man cackled at the sight of the sushi boxers in front of him, the hidden meaning of the gift a fond memory, “thanks Y/n, I will cherish these beautes forever.” You smiled, patting his head. You sat back next to Jeonghan, waiting for more presents to be passed about.

Seungcheol smirked at the small, light blue wrapped present in the back of the tree, “ah, I almost forgot about this one. Y/n, this last one is yours”

You narrowed your eyes at the smug man, wondering why he was smirking at you because of a gift. Hesitantly grabbing the gift, you began slowly unwrapping it (much much slower compared to the first few presents you had torn open.) As you focused on the present, you didn’t notice the nervous man next to you, his fingers fiddling together as he gnawed on his bruising lip. He watched you through the hair that crowded his sight, cheeks the color of the lights that decorated the tree.

Your heart slowed at the now un-wrapped present, hands gently lifting the silver chain. You glanced up, eyes meeting Seungcheols. He shook his head, pointing a finger towards Jeonghan as he pretended to stretch his arms out. Your eyebrows furrowed, mouth forming a small O. You looked down at the necklace, fingers tracing the jeweled heart as you opened the locket. Your breath hitched at the engraved letters- a J for Jeonghan and your own first initial as well.

Jeonghan jumped at the sudden contact, his heart beating rapidly at the weight of your body against his. Snapping out of the shock, he softly wrapped his arms around you, his hand placed on the back of your neck as he pressed his cheek against the side of your head. He was on fire, maybe not literally, but he sure felt as if he were in flames.

You pulled back, hands gently cupping his cheeks, “why?”

Jeonghan smiled, and not the usual devilish smirk he did- no, this was different. Was it adoration? Happiness? “Because I'm maybe, possibly, 100%, for sure in love with you”

You melted at his words, a light laugh sounding before pressing your lips on his cheek, “Well maybe, possibly, 100%, for sure am I in love with you too”

The man's eyes lit up at that, a large grin spreading across his face. Pulling you back against him, he squeezed your body as he fell against the ground, a loud cheer leaving his mouth. Your laughs filled the air, a sound you were sure your neighbors could hear 2 doors down.

Seunghceol sighed at the sight, though a fond smile was hidden behind that, “let the 3rd wheeling begin.”

[prince-toffee]

Alleyways

Hordak x Shadow Weaver

Canon Divergence | Alt Universe

Season One | Episode 14: Alleyways

Beatrix scoffed and threw the brown ration bar and the rest of her food tray across the prison cell, she far preferred the grey ones. She gave a defeated sigh lowering her head down. She rubbed her fingers over the scratched part of her mask, in the spot where a chip of the Black Garnet used to reside. Her shoulders slouched down, all tension in her muscles left her as she gave up. She felt so powerless. So weak. Just a few days ago she was still one of the most powerful witches on the planet, every magic user feared her name.

Shadow Weaver.

Now, she sat in a prison cell, rank-less. She didn’t know if she should’ve felt honoured, or disgusted by the fact that the cell was specially attuned and adjusted for her specifically. Which meant it was probably designed and constructed, in secret, long before her treason. This place was full of secrets and surprises, usually unpleasant ones. Hec-Tor would’ve probably said it was an honour, he was an architect that truly thought of everything. And The Fright Zone was one of his most haunting creations.

Beatrix wasn’t disgusted, per say. She knew she didn’t have many fans, and plenty of enemies at every corner. This outcome was inevitable, she knew deep down she was getting too greedy for her own good. But the power felt too good to give up. What a fool she was. She saw it all clearly now. Where her addiction led her. Her very unsubtle disregard for orders, her greed peering through her emotionless, cold stature. She knew she was on thin ice with Hec-Tor, the control freak he was. He desired order and expected subordinance. He always disliked her - everybody back home knew she was a wildcard, deceptive, insidious. Looking out for only herself - she never really cared about the cause.

Perhaps she should’ve been more surprised that he didn’t do it earlier. She knew he wasn’t fond of her, and vice versa of course - she couldn’t stand his patriotic and prideful attitude. Acting as if being apart of The Horde was a gift from god. He was an old blind fool. Beatrix wouldn't have thought twice before leaving this place and selling her loyalty and inside information to the most welcoming bidder - The Alliance, or even maybe try her luck with The Empire of Talon Mountain. So any choices to choose from, now if only she could manage to escape her imprisonment.

Unfortunately, if she knew Hec-Tor, and she did, The Hordak had probably thought of every possibility of escape she would think of, and countered it. He was paranoid like that. The spherical pure white containment cell she was unceremoniously thrown into was made out of Glowmoon-Dwarfstone, the surface layer anyway. A magical element only found on one of the moons of Etheria, able to absorb darkness itself. Bad news for the Weaver of Shadows, she was powerless here. She despised feeling weak, vulnerable. She was meant to be the predator, not the prey.

She had no shadow. The stone absorbed it. She felt two dimensional. She didn’t know if that made sense, but she heard the stone had negative effects on the mind if in close proximity for too long. Speaking of which, she had no idea how long she had been locked up, she lost the track of time. No windows. So no sky. No clock. No space. The spherical cell was the size of a small closet. At least they were still feeding her, but the food in there was never anything to gloat about.

She placed her face into her hands, she was loosing it. She couldn’t break! But she was close. She didn’t want anyone to have the satisfaction of seeing her beg, and pled. She was strong, stronger than them. She was going to win in the end, she just had to wait it out, play the long ga-

“Inmate-667. Place your forehead on the wall behind you and position your hands behind your back. The containment unit door will open, and a commanding official will commence your questioning. And Weaver, you’re gonna like this one, hehe.”

Beatrix narrowed her eyes and growled at the announcement. She recognised the voice, Force-Commander Grizzlor. She never liked him. The feeling was seemingly mutual. She did as she was ordered. A groan reverberated through her throat, she knew exactly what this was, she could tell from Grizzlor’s smug voice. Catra. She was back to berate her. It seemed like her former ward’s ego had grown three times the size, rather than her heart. Beatrix dreaded these visits. Catra came over from time to time, to insult and demean the dark sorceress, rub her victory into Beatrix’s face. Insolent little brat! She got lucky! Beatrix was weak when she caught her off guard, too drained by the toll the Black Garnet’s power took on her. If only- if only she could take hold of the Garnet’s power! S- She didn’t need much, just a little, it would’ve cleared her mind, beat her heart faster. If she had just a little more she could’ve had taken out Catra, and her two stooges. Everything would have been all better if only she had a little more. Damn that girl! And her mother!

The cell opened up. A side panel gave out a hiss as it dislodged, pulled out and off to the side. Weaver felt the colder air pour in. The closest shadow cast onto her was too weak for her to do anything with, the upper layer of the walls draining it’s ethereal cosmic weight. Or perhaps she was the one who was too weak. Catra loomed over her. The teen thought she could intimidate her, not a chance.

“Well? Come on then, you spoiled brat! Got anything to say? Came here to gloat and mock me, you think you have won, but one wrong move with Hordak and he’ll throw you to the dogs, he’s-”

“Weaver.”

The sorceress silenced herself. The voice that called to her was cold and smooth, in other words not Catra’s. The single word was followed by a pair of footsteps, metal boots clanking against the stone’s surface. The sound of cybernetics hissing as his joins moved. He was close now. The cell entrance slide back into place closing the cell. They were alone now. Beatrix had to admit, even though she knew Hec-Tor for most of her life, seen him at his most vulnerable, even shared some intimate moments with him, but still even after all that - he was terrifying.

She turned her head around, and there he was. He looked different in the light, stranger. She almost never saw him outside of his ThroneHall. Always cloaked in darkness and smoke. She sometimes wondered if he bought smoke machines on purpose to scare any kids that would accidently wonder into the room. Hec-Tor certainly had a taste for the dramatic. Beatrix turned around and seated herself comfortably looking up at the Overlord, well, as comfortably as possible. There he was, in all his glory, out of shadows - a glorified toaster. The same Hec-Tor that used to write poetry for girls that would never go out with him. The same Hec-Tor that dyed his hair blue, because kids from the neighbourhood made fun of him being ginger. The same Hec-Tor that beat his own father within an inch of his life, and conquered half of the galaxy...

Same old, same old.

She swallowed down quietly, she couldn’t show him she was weak. The mask helped hide most emotions, most weaknesses, she had to control the rest of her body language. Beatrix lifted one leg over the other and intertwined her fingers together, giving off a relaxed posture.

“Lord Hordak. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She looked over him - blood red eyes, and teeth, grey skin, military regulation hair cut, his two prostatic arms, which could crush boulders, his imperial purple cape, and the neon lit armour implants. She was actually curious as to what he was actually going to say. His eyes narrowed, anger was apparent, but an air of irritation was present too. He gave out a long tiresome sigh, as he moved his fingers to rub the bridge of his nasal cavity, even venturing as far as his eyes. She was in for it.

“Why? Why can’t you just follow orders? Beatrix Hallows, always struggling with adhering to reason and common sense.”

Shadow Weaver’s eyes widened she couldn’t believe what she was hearing, he actually had the audacity to school her, to talk down to her. This was almost worse than Catra, hearing her full name spoken out in a mocking tone, like lecturing a child, slapping them on the hand, this was humiliating. And from Hec-Tor too. When angered by her he’d usually give her the cold shoulder, take her off a mission, reassign command to someone else, like Catra. She thought he had given up on talking to her ages ago. But she wasn’t going to have it.

“Having fun? Look you’re not covering any new ground here. Catra already had multiple pitstops here to make me her new donkey. If you think you get to insult me like that, just remember your punk rear wouldn’t have made it back home if it weren’t there for me. You owe me. Several.”

It was true. Back on HordeWorld, back on the streets. They had nothing. Had to rummage through trash, and steal for food. Stomach empty all day. Times were tough. They had to rely on each other. One distracted the passer-by and the other pickpocketed, on a lucky day, thanks to Hec-Tor’s puppy eyes the stranger would hand them some pennies on top of that. But man, on days like these she wished she had never stood up to those bullies shoving little young Hec-Tor around, should have never allowed him to follow her. But how couldn’t she, he was so adorable.

“I am not here to appoint you my personal laughing stock. And I thought I told Catra talking to prisoners was forbidden. I’ll have a chat with her about the regulations... I am here to understand. Finally. I have been putting this off for far too long.”

This was curious, and unexpected. She would’ve lied if she said she wasn’t interested in what was about to exit that mouth. He had avoided her for years. Often said she was ‘not worth wasting words on’. The feeling was mutual. She heard that mouth declare rousing speeches, bone-chilling monologues, and the softest of kisses. Versatility was everything. He continued.

“We never saw eye to eye, never liked each other, you always went your own way. Chose to differ from others, always take the other path. You talk back to me, you waste resources on personal escapades, and often break protocol... But back there, at such a crucial point, disobeying my orders, for what? Just because of a child that did follow orders?”

Putting faith in that girl was going to be his undoing. Unless she was going to get to him first. Catra was always a nuisance, untrustworthy, going off on her own, not listening to what she was told. She had a rebellious spirit, that drove her away from Weaver’s lessons, she often managed to drag others away with her. She was too smart for her own good.

She’ll be biting down on Hec-Tor’s ankles soon enough. She supposed that an upside of being stuck in the cell was that he had to deal with Catra’s antics now. That was his mess to clean.

“How did she even get a drop on you? Was it the Garnet? I told you to tell me if the artefact displayed any negative effects-”

“Are you done? I know you didn’t come here to talk about my feelings. If you care to know your magic weapon is fine. And Catra. She’s nothing but a brat, that you’re letting walk all over you.”

She wasn’t having any of this, she had to speak up for herself. Call it a warning, that girl is not to be dismissed, she’s trouble - like her mother. But deep down she felt a hint of embarrassment herself, she was one of the most powerful sorceresses, years ago when she first drained the power of the Garnet she did it effortlessly. Even though Hec-Tor didn’t trust her, he handed her the responsibility, because he knew she was the only one who could hold its power. He knew she was mighty. But now, the Garnet rejects her, resists her, no longer bows down to her might. It hurt sometimes. But she could never show weakness.

The infamous Hordak stared down at her, judgementally, much like how he looked down at everybody. He looked off to the side at the thrown away tray, mashed potato and peas smeared on the floor, tray flipped over, and the brown rations crumbled on the floor.

“You’re not eating.”

What was that? She wondered to herself. Was that genuine worry? She noticed he stayed on the ration bars for a second too long, noting her preference perhaps. He seemingly had no idea where to go from there, so she helped him out, she asked.

“Why are you here Hec-Tor?”

This time using his real name rather than his title. More personal, it cut to the point. Plus he was always going to be Hec-Tor to her. That puppy eyed scaredy-bat, the one always picked on, by bullies twice his weight, the nerd allergic to flowers, and the same geek that used to write poems for her. She dismissed them of course, just a bunce of nonsense if you’d ask her. The change never really quite settled in, even when the Council made the public announcement of picking the new Hordak. Even when Hec-Tor’s face came on every screen on the planet. Even when the death of He-Ro shocked the nation. Nothing changed.

Well, maybe not until that day at Vix’s Diner. It was the strangest circumstance. He was the one who called her over. She guessed it was just a nostalgic meet up, like in the old days. 'The Hordak' was present, so they ate for free. Their conversation would be constantly interrupted by randos bowing and giving respects to him. He dismissed them.

But there was something different about the man that sat in front of her, he was colder, more stiff. Beatrix treated herself to the unlimited free breakfast meals, best she’d eaten in years. She half listened to his ramblings, something about the war with the Light and the Ones Who Won’t Be Named escalating, the Council was abolishing anti-terraforming laws, and Horde warships were launching on the offensive against the enemy. The wannabe poet gone, all that was left of the boy was a patriot, and a soldier. Well, what do you do? That’s what the government spoon feeds people.

But the strangest thing was. He asked her to be his 'Weaver' - his second in command. An honour placed apon only those who are seen as worthy, or chosen by the Council. But this wasn’t an ask of desperation or of fear. This was an order. Firm, and powerful. That day in the diner, if Beatrix would’ve refused him, she didn’t know if she would’ve walked out of there with her head on.

The Hordak is no mere man you can refuse after all.

He is the 'Beast of HordeWorld'.

And so, they set off. Boarded the warship: Annihilation, and rocketed into the stars. And the newly appointed Shadow Weaver pondered, that it was quite curious that HordeWorld was completely decimated only few days after they left. Curious indeed. Blah. Blah. Blah. Couple of thousand years, some food shortages and dead bodies later: Etheria. Crash landing in the back fields of King Niro’s Kingdom of Scorpion Hill. And it was through Weaver’s highly skilled dark magic on display, that the kingdoms bowed down to them, Mysticore even building a statue in her honour. They looked up to her, marvelled at her magical abilities. Her Horde magic was far more advanced than what the wizards held in their possession. She taught, and trained them. But good things never last. They turned on her.

“Like I said, Beatrix. I am here to understand.”

Now it was his time to use her name. She was still curious yet cautious. Whatever side-tracks Hec-Tor from the main mission, can’t be good. All this was strangely personal. Was the Beast in fact capable of concern and closeness? She let him continue.

“We’ve known each other longer than most beings live. But in my quest into the unknown, I never even dared to explore what was nearest me. Tell me, why break, why snap at me at a point of victory? And why, why the girl? It’s that Magicat that sets you off at every moment. Why? Why do you hate the girl?”

“Will, you free me?”

“...No. We both know I won’t, I can’t. It is against the protocols, and I gave you too many passes, vouched for you too many times, I overlooked your actions for too long. And that’s why I am here.”

Well, that wasn’t going to work. No freedom, no deal, no talking. She was surprised by the fact that this entire situation was simply a genuine attempt at a heart to heart. But he knew nothing. And that’s how Beatrix liked to keep things. Much like Hec-Tor, she wished to be a bogeyman, imagination was always the greatest deterrent.

And what was there to explain? Catra was a pain, undisciplined, and unwilling to learn. Beatrix wasn’t about to just let that brat walk over her, of course she snapped! Everything Catra got, every punishment, was because she deserved it. Though... no. No, he couldn’t know. Could he? Did he? Hec-Tor was a master tactician and strategist, he always researched and analysed everything before the attack - what if the Beast already knew the answer to his own question?

Did he know about Melendy?

Beatrix never spoke to anyone about her personal life, especially not her love life. And she had made sure she was back for check-ins, erased her tracks, she was sneaky. She didn’t slip up often. How would he know? Could it be? Was the grand Lord Hordak jealous? A curious stalker.

But perhaps it wasn’t that outside of the realm of possibly. The Queen of Magicats. The Lord of the Horde. Hec-Tor set up many negotiations in the time before the war, people talk.

And what now, he expected her to sit here listen to him give her therapy? As if. If that bastard knew about Melendy’s choice... about her leaving, and didn’t say anything, just holding it over her head as bait - then damn him to the Light! But did he truly know? He couldn’t possibly understand. She was in love. Nothing ever came close to making her feel like that. Not even him. Beatrix loved her, and she chose to leave, just because of tradition, culture. To Light with it!

But what prompted him to care? Perhaps he looked back fondly on the past, reminiscing? Hordak and her didn’t sleep together often, but when the duty became too much, too stressful - they aided each other to settle the nerve. Heh, it took practice to get used to each other, their first time, wasn’t pretty.

She still remembered that night, or well, it was day actually. She always misremembered, since the skies over the city of Catrax were always grey from the city’s pollution. Kids used to come over to their windows and watch the rare instances when sunshine would penetrate the dark clouds above. Very little hope shone down on the people of the lower levels. But the kids of the higher levels, the ones on the first floor, above the clouds, they had all the sunshine they wanted, and took it all for granted.

So when Beatrix and Hec-Tor pickpocketed and stole a little, just to keep living, just to have. It wasn’t that selfish. When the two crash landed on Etheria for the first time they ventured throughout the land, claiming everything they could, stealing and conquering, taking - just to have. Just because they couldn’t in previous lives.

On that day, after Beatrix stole old Mister Scurvy’s wallet as Hec-Tor distracted him, they both ran off away from the yelling man. Ran faster than they ever ran before, too afraid that the man’s screaming would attract the attention of any local law enforcement, if they got them, it was Confinement for sure, no matter that they were teens.

She huffed and panted so hard she almost fell off her own feet. She had to lean herself on the side of a brick wall in the alleyway she ran into. Just as Hec-Tor joined her, the rain began to pour. He bowed down, arms holding his knees, trying to support his upper body. His ears tilted down. His exhausted cough turning into a cackling laugh, which clearly infected Beatrix since she burst into laughter with him. She didn’t really know how it happened, but he got closer to her, with her pinned against the wall, looking straight into each other’s eyes. As their chuckles settled, her hand ventured down to his hip as her lips made their way to his own. And then, well, they were teenagers, you know what else.

Good memories.

Perhaps memories were just the advantage she needed, perhaps Hordak didn’t despise her as much as she had previously thought. Could it be? The All-Mighty Lord of The Horde feeling... lonely?

“Do you remember the alleyway?”

“Eh, there were... many alleyways.”

True that, after it felt so good, the first time, it sort of became a daily routine for them. Partners with benefits. They used each other to feel better, to feel something. There was nothing between the two, or so Beatrix thought. But perhaps she was wrong yet again. She wished to test that.

She took off her mask. The Weaver mask was a totemic symbol back on HordeWorld - representing strength and authority. And underneath that mask, was a woman. A broken woman, with scars and stiches, missing flesh. Something many would call a monster. But Hec-Tor Kur of House Kur saw nothing but beauty. A magnificent beast that saved him many a times. The girl he fell for so long ago. And Beatrix knew that, knew it was the moment she locked her toxic waste green eyes with his blood red, which shimmered in the light of the cell. She knew straight away, his weakness.

“Look at me, Hec-Tor. So frail. I wasted away. So little of me left... The Council was right. No matter what power I aim to tame, I fail, I never amounted to anything, like they predicted. I know you’re disappointed to have me as a partner on this venture... But… I miss the alleyways. When we had nothing. Back when so little felt like so much.”

It worked. The seemingly cold and calculated persona cracked. His facial expression changed, from irritation, and anger to a certain softness, maybe pity. He breathed in heavy, and out through the nose. He took a step closer to her. The cell was a snug fit so his leg was already brushing hers.

“We do have nothing, Beatrix. We are the last of our kind. We have little, but we can have it all. You are not a failure. We are not failures. There is a reason why I haven’t just simply executed you like a common thug... I miss those days too. But we still have time.”

The Hordak kneeled down, lowered himself to be closer to her. This was it - the moment of truth. He clearly had no idea what to do with his hands, so one rubbed its thumb and pointing finger together in anticipation, while the other hovered in the air half open awaiting her permission to proceed. The Weaver of Shadows accepted it, took hold of the old vampire’s hand into her own, intertwining their talons. Old scared skin taking comfort in one another, something familiar, in an unfamiliar world.

“We will have our people back. We will terraform this miserable planet! And we will be the new gods of a new utopia... And... though we never seem to see eye to eye... even if all it was, was physical, there is no one I would rather stand with and watch this world transform into hope, because you are my partner. This is our mission.”

Beatrix was the first to move forward. And Hec-Tor quickly followed suit, he closed his eyes and opened his fanged mouth. And the blissful moment was brief, but glorious, the space bat even let a pleasing hum escape him. And perhaps Beatrix would’ve let it go on longer, it wasn’t often that she had pleasures like these. But this situation was dire, and also, she was really tired of looking at the same white walls all day. She decided she earned herself a little walk to stretch her legs.

Hordak knew there was something wrong - his mouth became colder, and something wriggled inside that made him choke on his own breaths. Shadow Weaver rose up, straightening her legs completely, while Hordak bent down, onto his knees. The Dwarf Stone absorbed all darkness present on all surfaces, rendering her powerless, but the magic stone’s reach was limited. Cause Hordak’s entire inside of his body was nothing but darkness - so many shadows coating all of his vulnerable entrails and organs. She wasn’t going to paralyse him permanently, she wasn’t that cruel - just because of their history, she could show mercy.

Hec-Tor’s face pale and sick, his body limp, blood pooling around his organs, he fell on the floor. Shadow Weaver took a good long heavy breath, perfect. She placed the mask back over her face, and approached the wall of the cell through which Hec-Tor entered. Firmly placed her palms on the stone and pushed against the wall. The ethereal shadows twisted and morphed and drilled into the wall, she didn’t have much time. Every second the walls drained away the shadows, Hec-Tor had very little left in him, and the bright magic of the material weakened her, so little strength was left in her.

But there it was, the sound of the stone cracking. She wormed her fingers into the crack, enlarging it, chipping on it. The rock crumbled down, exposing the metallic layer underneath it. That was it, her window of opportunity. She commanded the shadows to bore into the mechanisms, and the shadow beast tore the panel wide open. The steel bending and ripping was extremely satisfying. Weaver loved the look on Grizzlor’s face as he took in what just happened. The witch made quick work of him, throwing him off to the side with the dark mass. She sighed in relief, she wasn’t free yet, but she had plenty of material to work with. The shadows from smallest corner to the largest corridor converged around her, swirling like a vortex.

“Now this is something I can work with.”

[b1ksh88p]

Be Mine ⛏

Plot Plot: You’ve been in a few relationships, unfortunately all ending in tragedy. You had a reputation for being a bad omen. Truly you were a sweet girl but it seemed like every single one of your lovers ended up dead or horrendously disfigured in the long run. This Valentine’s Day your boyfriend decides to jump ship for some blonde crushing the little hope you had left for your love life. In a slightly drunken haze you sneak into the mines for a rant about the cursed corporate holiday and to drown your sorrows in the solitude of the mines. But it seems like you’ve got a listener.

Tags/Warnings: Lots of cursing | Sprinkle of angst | Fluff

The cold air of the abandoned labyrinth did nothing to cool you down as you ventured further into its clutches. To put it lightly you were on fire. Every part of you wanted to tear someone apart. The auburn liquid sloshed around as you clumsily stomped past heaps of forgotten debris. If not for your drunken stupor you would’ve turned back. Everyone knew the horrific tale of the pickaxe cannibal murder. Although you were sure the story was somewhat embellished you’ve heard worse. Poor fuck did what he had to do to survive. Anyone else would’ve done the same, it’s human nature to do anything no matter how gruesome to survive.

“Give a girl a box of cheap chocolates and a fucking bouquet of withering roses and she’s supposed to repay ya by sucking your fucking dick and acting like yer the best thing since sliced bread.” You grumble.

The deeper you go the darker it gets. Stone walls become suffocating and everything looks like the enemy. A fight or flight response may have kicked in but you were in no place to think rationally. When your heel broke you fucking snapped.

“Stupid Roses, fuck ass chocolates, fake relationships for fake people who wouldn’t know love if it fucking stabbed them in the face!” You yell throwing the broken heel piece deep into the darkness. “A corporate holiday with no fucking insignificance! Just a money plot and a excuse to fuck and act like you like that worthless pathetic fuck you’re dating that you like them. When all 364 days you’ve been with em ya fucking loathe them!” You continue on tearing up the damned holiday in partially incoherent babbling until you hear glass break.

Despite your conditions you aren’t stupid. “Fuck is that?” You call out whilst backing up. At first you’re sure it’s a group of horny teenagers but through the gritty lights you see a single foreboding silhouette. This was where you run. Or at least you should’ve. Instead you squint your eyes like some tourist taking in the sights and step forward. “Bud y’know the mines are abandoned cuz of the poor guy who had to eat his friends right?” You call out. “I mean do you if this is your thing I support it but it’s kinda weird since you look exactly like the serial killer guy. Spot on cosplay.” You compliment. The figure doesn’t move. It doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. You feel your hairs start to stand up and goosebumps pepper you skin. It seems your liquid courage was fading.

“Welp I’ll leave you be, don’t wanna bore you with the details of this fucked up holiday.” You let out a wry laugh before turning your back on the figure. You get about 12 good steps in before the stride of death crescendos behind you. Now you were running. Your broken heels doing wonders at making this chase the easiest for your attacker. In the midst of running you take them off and throw them off behind you. Now look you weren’t aiming for the guy but when you heard the hit connect and a surprised grunt you got the feeling you were fucked. Instead of running in a straight line you dip into a little crawl space. Maybe he’d give up and fuck off you. To your horror the man crouches down and starts to crawl his way inside.

Without thinking you take the whiskey bottle and crash it on his head. “Leave me alone I don’t even like this fuckass holiday you fucking weirdo!” You cry. He looks up at you and stops trying to fit.

“Why not.” His voice was eerily calm. As if he weren’t some insane pickaxe murderer but a man.

“Well because it’s stupid and to lovy dovy. And because it feels wrong to celebrate it when such a tragedy had occurred.” You explain. “And...and I got dumped today so there’s that.” You huff.

“...You pity me?”

You shake your head. Words weren’t really your strong point and you didn’t need him thinking you were coddling him or anything. Instead you just stare into the glossy eyeholes with your own praying he’d just fuck off. You practically shit yourself when he continued to scramble through and stand up. You grab a rock and stand ready to knock him upside the head with it only have your wrist harshly grabbed mid throw.

“I don’t want your pity.”

This was it. You were gonna die. And it was gonna be painful and super fucking lame. On your headstone it would say:

“Loser girl no one cares about got dumped on Valentine’s Day...also got murdered lol”

Even though you wanted to sob and cry your eyes out you were way to stubborn to go out pleading and begging. “I was being empathetic you weirdo! We do what we gotta do to survive, and you did just that. You aren’t some crazy murderer. You’re just angry and traumatized and that’s ok!” The grip on your wrist only tightened. “Gah! Th-the system failed you dude. The whole fucking city failed you and still is failing you! You ha-have a right to be mad! I’m not excusing what you’ve done b-but shit I would’ve done the same!” You squeal feeling the blood flow completely cease as he tightened his grip.

Suddenly the pain stopped. You open your eyes and rub your poor wrist hoping the feeling would return. He seemed more docile. It was as if his entire aura had changed. The man sat down on a hunk of rubble, his weapon clenched in his grip. If you didn’t know better you could’ve sworn he was crying. It was a silent sob. Nothing overtly dramatic, kind of how like you’d expect a man who’s rarely cried to cry. It was unnerving. The only man you’ve ever seen cry was your dad and that was when he laughed to hard. This...this was gut wrenching.

This monster that was hellbent on killing you seconds ago was now a sad man huddled up in a corner like a child. You could never feel the pain he’s felt, relive the days of utter darkness and skewed rations. Never could you imagine the gritty taste of human flesh. The depravity one must have for themselves. The survivors guilt. The nightmares he must relive. He kept muttering something about the dark and the how he wasn’t a monster. How he just wanted to see the light again.

“It’s ok.”

You weren’t sure you could touch him so you just sat in front of him. He was still shaken up but the sound of your voice seemed to get through to him. “It’s ok and you’re safe. I’m here. I won’t go anywhere I’d you don’t want me to...” You could bare the cold for a night. You’d rather be frozen to death then brutally murdered.

Both of you sat there for what seemed like ages until he moved. You were on the edge of slumber before seeing a gloved hand slither towards yours. You wanted to move it. Make haste and dip but your body had become heavy. Your eyes seemingly weighed down by stones. Before you knew it he was oddly holding your hand. You saw him looking at you intently. Probably waiting for you to scream or pull away but you stayed put. One hand held up your head whilst the other was his to experience. It had probably been awhile since he’s been so vulnerable so you let him have this. It wasn’t like you had anything else to do tonight but sleep and pray that the hang over didn’t beat your ass in the morning. Before you could fall asleep he pulls you into a really awkward half ass embrace against the cold stained suit. It was far more comfortable than the back straining position you were in a second ago but man this guy was bad at ‘snuggling’. You felt like he was gonna smother you! When he found a comfortable position he rested that stupid ass mask on top of your head with a satisfied grunt before you gave up on protesting and fell asleep. How the hell were you gonna get home

When you wake there’s no cold embraces or odd masked men. Instead you find yourself wrapped in some dusty old quilt at the entrance of the mine. For a moment you think everything that occurred was a mere fever dream. A whiskey fueled hallucination. You scramble to your feet and notice a little note that had fallen from the tattered cloth. The paper, or what you hoped was paper and not dried human skin, had fairly neat handwriting. It was short and morbidly sweet.

Thank you.

There was a part of you that was absolutely mortified. The note solidified your suspicions of what had taken place last night. But the other part of you was strangely elated. You turn to the mine and put your hands to your mouth to amplify your words. “THANKS FOR NOT KILLING ME ILL MAKE IT UP TO YOU!!!!!!” You yell happily before heading back into town. You were pretty sure he didn’t hear you but it calmed you to know that he not only spared you but someone actually appreciated your presence.

This was definitely not your final encounter ⛏

#⛏

[haikyuuishete]

The Ace|| Smau!!

Kurooxreader

Chapter 3|| Festival fun

Synopsis: you stepped down from being being the girls national ace and transferred to Nekoma where you met your biggest fan

Masterlist

“Hey guys!” Hinata steps off the train meeting the whole Nekoma team who were waiting for him. “Shrimpy!” They called out with huge smiles. “long time no see” Hinata waves at them.

“Sorry for taking too long” “Nah it’s fine, we aren’t in a rush” Kuroo ruffles his hair, “oh yea Hinata meet y/n” Kuroo pulls you up front, you were little smaller next to him, you have heard about him from Kenma, he’s cuter in person. “Oh I-I” he panics a bit, letting out a small laugh. “Don’t be nervous, I don’t bite” you tease, Hinata was blushing so hard it was like he was next to a celebrity or something. Before he could ask anything Kuroo interrupted

“Alrighty then let’s go” Kuroo says pulling you next to him. His other teammates started to playfully roll their eyes while watching you two walk with each other.

When you got to the festival it was almost like you became a child once again. You couldn’t stop running around everywhere with the first years, the food the games and even the attractions where cool. “Okay guys we’ll meet here by eight” Yaku announces, before you could go anywhere, Kuroo got a hold of you “whoa whoa calm down, you might get lost” he laughs, making you pout a bit. “Let’s go then! We can’t waste time” You grab his hand pulling him with you to every stand that caught your attention. Strolling around, shoulder on shoulder, eating different kinds of food. “I can’t believe you got free cotton candy” Kuroo scoffs, “haha you had to pay yours” you teased him by playfully bumping into him, “you know I could just easily steal yours” He hisses, “wow I see” you rolls your eyes.

Going to every game you could find, both of you being competitive, you two were in a tie which irritated you. “Sorry I’m just better” he shrugs smirking at your tiny figure. “Shut up loser, it’s a tie” you hissed crossing your arms. “I’m still better!” He stuck his tongue out, “quit it!” You playfully punch him only for him to stop you by grabbing your wrist. “You’re very violent you know m” before you could process anything he already had his arm draped around your shoulder.

Which shocked you but didn’t mind, the two of you walked around for bit before looking for the others. “Look it’s the pussycats” a slithering voice says behind you two,Kuroo turns his face around while you were just watching the old man flossing the cotton candy in amusement. Once he sees his enemy close,

“Oh look it’s a rodent” He hisses at Daishou, his team was with him so his girlfriend who was holding onto him. “Looks like your litter is everywhere almost like they are strays” He smirks, “god I almost forgot you were so annoying” Kuroo groans out, “and you’re still a prick...oh my I didn’t know I was interrupting your date” He smirked, his team behind letting out small laughter. Moving around to look at Kuroo’s rivals. “What’s happening?” You whisper facing them, “wait what?” Daishou jaw drops seeing you, “Wait don’t tell me you’re dating this failure?” He points at Kuroo with disgust “Well ouch” Kuroo dramatically gasps while hitting his chest like he was offended “dude” “okay shut up”

“I can’t belive you dropped out of volleyball, you could basically have a career by the end of highschool” Daishou dramatically waves his arms. “He’s not that bad” you whispered “oh you just wait” Kuroo puffed out at your remark.

“It’s almost like you got lazy over time” he smirked which pissed you off because of his shit eating grin, now you know why Kuroo disliked him.

“what did you say?” you glared, “hey Kuroo” Yaku and Kai walks up from behind with the whole team and Shoyo.

“We bumped into these cold blooded beasts” Kuroo watches you and Daishou converse almost like arguing and bickering.

“Damn you snake head I can clearly beat you!” You roll up your sleeves up, “sure you can” he rolls his eyes while everyone was watching in amusement. “Let’s settle this then!” “FINE”

You turn to Kuroo pleading him to leave to the gym, “Kuroo” “What?” “Let’s play against these reptiles” you were being dead serious it was almost cute, “let’s do it Kuroo!” Yaku joins in, Kenma nods away because Hinata. Kuroo lets out a huge sigh. “Fine” looking over Daishou’s team.

“I have keys to the gym at school, let’s go play” “Deal!” His whole team follows behind yet you and Daishou kept making fun of each other, Kuroo and his girlfriend Mika watch you two bicker. “It’s a non stop circle” watching his team protect you and even joining in the bickering. “I know, it doesn’t bother me seeing them bicker, your girlfriend reminds me of you” “she’s not my girlfriend....not yet” Mika let’s out a smile, “I’ve seen her on the magazines because of Daishou and even some interviews, she doesn’t let many guys in her life maybe you have chance”

“Hopefully” “fingers crossed”

Kuroo opens the gym and everyone starts putting up the net, taking off their jackets and stuff onto the floor. “Kenma are you really gonna play?” You ask, “Shoyo is too excited and wants me to join so I’ll join in this once” you let out a laugh. Everyone stopped what they were doing to admire you, it’s the laugh everyone saw on tv whenever you were having fun in a game.

Mika and Shibayama were keeping score, you were taunting Daishou the whole time with the help of Kuroo and Yamamoto.

Kenma sets and you hit only to clash into the floor like rapid fire, “WHOA!” Everyone screams, you kept gaining points because of your spikes, then they started to attack Hinata which pissed you off. “Shut up lizard face you can’t even beat a girl so why taunt my team” you flip him off.

They were five points behind you just one more point you get the set. Everyone was having fun but Daishou wasn’t he wanted to beat you which made you laugh. You decided to give Hinata a place to shine, you set just for him only to spike it down. It was unbelievable fast which made you gush. Both of you cheering because the set was yours. Kuroo just watched you smile and cheer with his team. You were talented, carefree he even wondered if you regretted your decision leaving volleyball.

“Don’t get too happy I’ll take the next set back” Daishou hisses, “sure you will” you roll your eyes, it was just the same like last time you won once again. His team thanked you for playing while Daishou was being petty about it.

While you were cheering for the win, you back hug Kuroo out of excitement. “Hey snake face let’s go out to eat this once” you shout out, he talked it out with his team. “Sure why not” he shrugged, intertwining his fingers with his girlfriend.

At the restaurant everyone ate, laughed, argued which was fun and entertaining. Unfortunately it was time to go, bidding good by to each other with some rivalry in between. “We’ll beat you rooster head” “as if”

You bid goodbye to your team and to Shoyo, Kuroo volunteered to take you home which you didn’t mind. Sitting next to each other resting your head on his shoulder and his head resting on yours. You were so tired from the festival and game made you fall asleep on Kuroo who was smiling the whole time. ”thank you” you whisper “heh no problem”

Tag list

@wolfblix

[norvicfiddler]

Michael Emerson - The Hatch podcast, Jul 28, 2020.

The following is my transcription of part of an interview Michael Emerson recorded with the The Hatch earlier this year. I’ve concentrated on the parts where he specifically talks about Ben as a character, but you should go and listen to the whole thing, as he has some nice behind the scenes anecdotes (and who doesn’t want to hear Emerson talk for half-an-hour, right?). If you’re interested in Lost at all, or TV production, the whole podcast is worth a listen (despite the hosts’ inexplicable love for Sayid). They have a load of other great cast and crew interviews.

(transcription note: the ellipses indicate pauses, not cuts) 

about The State of Things to Come

‘I think it’s the turning point in audience sympathy for Benjamin’

h: really? we thought letting his daughter be killed was one of his worst crimes

‘It’s a terrible crime, but, evidently an innocent one, because he thought they had a set of … … parameters or rules about engagement. And one of them was, no-one in your family would be harmed.’  

‘That’s why it’s unthinkable to him. Keamy doesn’t even wait for the countdown, he doesn’t even let him finish, his … tawdry little speech about how she’s nothing to him. Oh it’s, so sad. But, human.’

h: how’s Ben handling things at this point?

‘Well, he’s kind of on autopilot, I mean he’s doing what he … thinks or knows, to do but, it’s not one of the more successful phases of his career, and, he must be … I thought he was, desperate. And, you know, trying to maintain an image which we’ll eventually see, it’s a false image. But, here again this is all humanizing for the character, I think. He’s guilty of hubris, he’s guilty of pride, he’s guilty of … ignoring obvious signals. All that stuff. But, that’s just him.’

h: Ben tells Locke he always has a plan. Does he?

‘Right, what kind of plan is it that you have, Benjamin? ‘cos it doesn’t seem like a great plan (laughs). OK, so you have one, so you’re thinking ahead, so you fancy yourself a gamesman. How’s that workin’ out for ya?’

h: what is it that’s making Ben break down?

‘Yeah, I think his bravado was always kind of false. I don’t think he was naturally, a, warlord or a commandant, or, a … leader, even. It was something that, was an exhausting amount of work for him. He was supposed to be some other kind of boy, ya know, some other kind of life. I guess he was doing the best he could. Ah, I tried to find the pathos in it. You know. You’re, you’re overmatched. Now, what do you do? You don’t have any fallback, you don’t have any assistance, you don’t have any mentors. There’s no-one to go to, for help. So he kind of slowly loses his mind, in the way you would, under those circumstances, when you’re … ill-suited for your role.’

on filming that scene with Keamy

‘Well, we knew it was going to go to a heavy place, so, I can’t remember the exact discussion, but there was some question about … let’s save the heavy lifting for the end. Let’s, take care of all the mechanical business of handing out weapons and choosing windows and, you know, where’s Keamy, and Alex and, all of that. And we’ll shoot aaaall of that stuff, and at the end of it all, we will turn the camera on your, sad little face, you know, in that one pane of window that you can see through. And then, we will figure out … how to play it. Or, what it is.

But … I have to say. I wouldn’t even call that in the top ten of difficult moments for me, in that series. Cos, it’s just … a bare naked horror, and shock and, an ungraspable mourning and, to know that you made … like a … cosmic mistake. And it cost … the life of someone. So, I was ready to play that.’

‘It ends up taking care of itself … in some way. I mean, if you have, if you feel an empathy, for the situation or, for the character. I always feel kind of empathetic about whoever I’m playing. I get them, I get, Ben. He’s tryin’ to be something that he can’t, fully live up to. But he has some skills, he has a skillset. He’s a good talker! He’s straight on psychology.’

h: he’s trying to talk his way out here

‘Right, it’s a good strategy. In, in a chess game, he senses “Oh, let’s undervalue the pawn. That’s the way to save her.” But, it was the wrong choice, because he wasn’t playing the game he thought he was.’

on Keamy’s countdown

‘In the … world of dramatic countdowns, that’s a cheat too. We didn’t even get the countdown. We, you know, no trickle of sweat ran down anybody’s face. It was just, you know, five four boom! WAIT! WRONG! NO! (laughs)’

h: there’s a real electricity between Ben and Keamy in this scene

‘Partly that is just actor chemistry. I look at him and, what he embodies, and what he sounds like, and it’s like anti-matter to my matter. You know, he’s just like, he is the non-Ben. But, whenever you say that … then, you have to think OK but, there are some … shared … character … traits (laughs). He’s been ruthless. All of that is contained, in a way, in this one episode. The facets of, Benjamin and his strengths and weaknesses and stuff that works and stuff that doesn’t.’

h: did Alex hear what Ben said?

‘Of course, whether she hears him or not, Benjamin Linus will always believe that she did.’

h: how does this change Ben from here?

‘Well, I think it’s where … whatever passes for faith, with him. With the island, with Jacob. I think it, that faith is now … it’s cracked open. He, there’s no going back, from this. So what, I dunno, his forward momentum, his plan from now on will be … flawed and a little half-hearted, I think. Or desperate.’

h: does this lead to him killing Jacob?

‘Yeah, I think there’s a direct line, from this episode to that, sure. Can’t remember what my lines were exactly, when I killed Jacob, but, it was about him not supporting me. Me having given all. And by all he means, my own blood, my own child, and that means this little to you? Then die, you SOB! That was kind of his attitude.’

h: like if God had let Abraham kill Isaac, how would Abraham feel about God?

‘I think Benjamin was tested in a way that Abraham wasn’t.’

h: is redemption something Ben can hope for?

‘It’s not on his mind at the time, obviously. He’s just scrambling, just scrambling. And the end of the series, shows him unredeemed. So, he’s so caught up in the action of things, that he has no reflective mode I don’t think. Well occasionally, like … when he has that father/son, argument with Jacob or there are some other moments where he even reveals his, his weaknesses and doubts and, his sense of betrayal. But mostly, he can’t see anything else to do but just keep on, keep on with, whatever crazed plan there was in place. Before everything went wrong.’

on the scene with Widmore

‘That scene to me was really satisfying, ‘cos I thought the threat of it, the gamesmanship was, really high stakes. It was fun to be Ben and to keep a lid on it, that much. The fact of him being in the man’s bedroom. You don’t need to raise your voice, when your enemy wakes up, and you’re in the room. So then you just … you just say what you need.’

h: Widmore calls Ben a rat

‘Yeah, that’s alright. Ben doesn’t think he’s a rat. Ben thinks he’s … an avenging angel. So, he can call me what he wants. I don’t even hear that. That runs off me like water off a duck’s back.’

on Ben not going through with killing Penny

‘As a ruthless killer he has an Achilles heel and it is parenthood, or children. (h: where does that come from?) I think, you know, his own upbringing, I suppose, or just … wishing, maybe he’s always wished that, his life … he wasn’t meant to be this, he was meant to be something, you know, some tenderer, and more natural and normal thing. (h: a guy who plays piano and reads books?) That’s right, that’s right. So … yeah, the kids. Here’s his soft spot. It’s endearing.’  

[starrynite7114]

things you never knew: three

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I kept writing and writing, and here we are with 5000 something words. The story is definitely starting a little slow, so many secrets and questions popping up, but I promise, things are going to pick up soon.

If you guys ever want to discuss the story, please feel free! I love questions! <3 

I also added new characters on the characters post, please check it out!

Also, requests are still open if you would like to make a request! 

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“Please Theo, I just want to go home.” Ailee sobbed, as she held her stomach, on her knees, head against the concrete. 

“You have no home.” Theo spat out venomously. “How can you be the best at Maquina if you’re going to long for home? Personal relationships exhibit weakness, they give your enemies a target.” He looked at the four men that surrounded Ailee. “Again.” 

The four men approached Ailee one at a time, Ailee was able to defend herself, and take a few down. That was until there were multiple people who attacked her, then Ailee was back on her knees, holding her stomach once again. She coughed, blood coming out of her mouth, her whole body was aching.

“This is your home till I see fit, till you’re prepared to be the best in Maquina.” Theo stated. “Who do you want to go back to? Angel Reyes?” Theo chuckled, shaking his head. “He is a waste of space my darling sister, you have no future in Santo Padre with him. You have romanticized this life with the Reyes’, but let’s be honest, you don’t fit in that life. You belong to this world, to keep the balance of power as your uncle fondly tells you.” Theo scoffed. “We can take over the world Ailee, we can have the governments of this world pleading to have us on their side, to have us manufacturing weapons of mass destruction for them. Do you not want that for me? For me to be able to bring back honor to my family’s name?”

Ailee did want to help her older brother out, but this was insane. She wasn’t cut out of this, she didn’t want to be a monster. 

“What did I tell you?” 

Ailee remained mum, not saying anything to Theo. She didn’t want to be here. This was the last place she wanted to be. She was only supposed to be here for a few weeks, but when she arrived, Theo took her passport and her cell phone. She couldn’t even contact John and Vince and it frightened her, but she didn’t let it show. Theo pounced on fear, and she tried her best to not be afraid.

“What did I tell you?!” He yelled out, hitting her with the stick he held in his hand. She fell to the ground, her forearm holding her up as best as she could.

“Fear is a concept for the weak. You have to face your fears in order to become the best.” She repeated his mantra in a monotone voice, three months of pain and suffering sinking in. She terribly missed Angel. Her saving grace, her fucking Angel. Whenever she thought about killing herself, ending this miserable life, she thought of Angel. His stupid jokes. His stupid smile. His warmth. The way he would hold her whenever she had a hard day at the academy. The way he would tell her that everything was going to be okay when a thunderstorm frightened her. The way he would make silly faces at her while she was eating dinner with his family, her family.

She fucking missed him.

He was the light at the end of her tunnel. 

If she focused on that, she could survive this fucking hell. 

“I’ve done everything I can for you since we were children, Grace. I’ve always taken care of you, made sure you were okay, read you bedtime stories, it was all me. When you were here, you were free from the scrutiny and hardships your parents put you through. All I’m asking is for you to give this training your all, to beat John and Vince.” Theo squatted down in front of her, lifting her chin up. He slapped her, blood spurting out of her mouth. She couldn’t even cry, the tears only further aggravated him. “I’m doing this because I love you.” He took his phone out, a live-stream of Angel at the scrapyard was on his screen. “You don’t play by my rules and I’ll kill him. See, as I’ve said, personal relationships are a cause of weakness.”

Ailee felt her tears welling up again. She looked down, taking a deep breath. She stood up, and looked up at the four men before her. Theo saw the way her face hardened, smirking at the victory he achieved.

“Again.”

=============

Creeper watched Ailee as she unloaded her SUV. He heard the grand opening was in three days and he wanted to check on his younger cousin. He’s given her space since her release from jail, but like Angel said, she was an adult, she had to handle adult conversations. But somehow he knew that wasn’t the issue. 

“Are you just going to stand there or are you at least going to help me?” Ailee’s question broke him out of his trance, giving her a sheepish smile. 

“I got you.” He took off his gloves, picking up a box from her trunk. Walking inside, he was surprised to see a few people inside working, they looked at him, greeting him so uniformly it was creepy. 

Ailee walked in behind him, raising an eyebrow as to why Creeper stopped.

“Creep, why the hell are you blocking the way?” Ailee questioned.

“Didn’t know where to bring it.” He turned to her. 

“Counter.” She nodded her head forward.

They both placed the boxes on the counter and went back outside. Ailee sat at the trunk of her car, watching her cousin slightly pace in front of her. Creeper was her cousin from her father’s side. His mother was Jin and William’s half sister. She was the middle child in between them. They got on well and Creeper has been a part of her life since she was younger. Truth be told, he was one of the few members of her dad’s side she was fond of. He was a good dude and was loyal to a tee. He was always so kind to her. Whenever she would get in trouble with her parents, she would sneak over to his house which was just a house over and let him distract her with stupid shit he would do.

He also taught her how to box to release pent up aggression she had. Ailee was taught to keep her feelings to herself, to not show your emotions as it was a sign of weakness. Due to this, when she would become angry, frustrated, sad, whatever negative emotion, she was never truly able to show it. Instead of letting her brood, he would take her out, taking Angel along and letting her box. Sure, maybe him and Angel were punching bags along with other people at the gym, but Ailee needed it. 

“How are you?” Creeper questioned. 

“Good, just busy with setting up the shop. How are you?” Ailee began to slouch, and she immediately corrected her posture, feeling the smack of the stick one of her trainers used to carry around whenever she would slouch. 

“Slouching is a sign of laziness, improper posture is not allowed for an agent of your caliber. Fix it, it will help you in life later on considering all the injuries you have sustained.” 

Prim and proper, that’s how they were supposed to be. Always clean shaven, hair tied in a ponytail, no messiness. It was a dress code, which was comical to Ailee, but she figured there had to be a code somewhere.  

“We have a run tomorrow. I just wanted to check on you. I know we’re far from forgiven, but you have to know that we tried to see you multiple times.”

Ailee’s eyebrows furrowed. She kept hearing that, they tried to see her yet it never happened. “I doubt that. Felipe saw me, so did Jin and Theo.”

“Theo? Your psycho half brother?” 

Ailee nodded her head tensely, recalling how her brother visited her a few times and remembering how uncomfortable and irritating it was. He wasn’t allowed on American soil, yet, he risked it to see her. It was idiotic and there were so many times she wished he was caught. For some reason, he was always evading the authorities. He was only on their radar if he stepped foot on US soil, he technically didn’t have a warrant on him since he hasn’t done anything to catch people’s attention. Selling weapons to lowly Eastern European countries didn’t really alarm government officials. Who didn’t sell weapons to militant groups? When he starts having bigger clients then that’s when the problem arises. But with him seemingly using a rebel group too close to the border, that’s when things changed. Rebel groups against the cartel were unpredictable, their loyalty was fluid, much like the governing governments of the world. If you fit their purpose, then they were loyal to you. 

“Yes, and before you ask, I don’t know how he got to American soil, he just did.” Ailee shrugged. “Look, I think we can all just move on, whether or not you attempted to visit me or not, it’s no longer my concern. I’ll stand clear from you all and you stand clear from me.”

“You know we can’t do that, Angel wouldn’t agree to that.” Creeper knew how much Angel was itching to confront Ailee. From what he heard, he already did and he met her boyfriend, Alexander. He was almost sure that information was incorrect and Angel was just being dramatic. Any man around Ailee was not accepted by Angel. 

“Well tough shit, Angel doesn’t really have a choice does he?” Ailee scoffed. “It’s my only request primo, please respect it.” She knew this was an awful request, but she could keep tabs on the Mayans without actually being involved with them. There was too much history and hurt to actually work with them. Ailee wasn’t willing to face that demon, facing that would cause things to resurface she long buried.

“Angel isn’t going to give up on you. It’s been five years, that’s enough time to get past grievances.” Creeper knew it wasn’t but Ailee blocked them off, how could she be angry at that?

“Let me ask you something, if you took the fall for the MC and they never visited you, would you welcome them with open arms?”

“Of course, there must have been a reason why they didn’t and we did try to visit you, you shut us down.”

“I didn’t have a ‘no-visit’ list. If those other people were able to visit me, then how were you not able to do so?”

“I don’t know Lee! You fucking tell me!” Creeper was frustrated. It was like going around in circles with Ailee. “We tried, we really did, but you made it very apparent that you didn’t want to speak to us.”

“Look, there’s no point in arguing about things. Like I’ve said, let's all move on.”

“Lee, you were never this heartless. I get it, you’re upset because you feel like we’ve abandoned you, but I can guarantee you we didn’t. We’re family.” Creeper knew Ailee could hold a grudge, but this was different. She couldn’t hold this against them all. 

“Family is such a strange concept. One abandoned me and the other uses me as a weapon to serve a purpose that is a joke to be honest.” Ailee scoffed. “Look, again, my stance is quite firm. Let’s all be cordial, but otherwise, I want nothing to do with any of you.” 

Before Creeper could reply, a voice interrupted them.

“Heads up.” 

He looked to where the voice came from and it was Alex, Ailee’s childhood friend. What surprised him was the little girl, five years old at most running towards Ailee. He watched as Ailee jumped out of the car and opened her arms for the young girl.

“Baby!” Ailee kissed her cheek, lifting her up. “This is Tio Creeper, this is my daughter, Melody.”

Creeper tried his best for his mouth not to drop open, the shock of being introduced to Ailee’s daughter shook him. The little girl looked just like Ailee, but she didn’t have Ailee’s hazel eyes, she had brown eyes, much like Angel. He couldn’t believe this, Ailee couldn’t have had a child while she was in jail. Money talked, he knew that, but he doubted that Ailee would have a kid with Alexander while she was in jail. 

Nothing was making sense. 

He noticed the hearing aid then, eyeing Melody curiously. “She can hear?”

“Yes, of course she can. She’s just more comfortable with signing still because she thinks her voice is weird.” Ailee kissed the implant on her baby’s forehead. “She’s fine. Baby, come on, say hello, Tio Creeper would love to hear your voice.”

“Hello,” Creeper did note that her voice didn’t sound normal, but she was adorable. She hid her face at the crook of Ailee’s neck. 

Creeper noticed Alexander appear behind Ailee, the little girl reaching for him. 

“I got you babe,” he picked her up, kissing Ailee at the top of her head. “Creep, nice to see you.”

“You too man, didn’t know you were allowed outside of Europe.” He knew the business the Leon’s had. Regardless of their real estate venture, cocaine still made their world go around. 

“Helps to be attached to this one.” He nodded his head towards Ailee. “I’ll leave you two.”

“It’s fine, Creeper was just leaving.” 

“Does Angel know you have a daughter?” Creeper knew those brown eyes anywhere, he’s been brothers with the man for years and known him before that due to Ailee. 

“Why would he need to know?” Ailee gave him a look, but he could tell that she wasn’t comfortable, that being back in Santo Padre was biting her on the ass.

No one could hide anything in Santo Padre, especially not from the Mayans.

“Well for one, that kid looks like Angel.” 

“She isn’t Angel’s kid, she’s my kid.” Ailee countered. “Why does she have to be Angel’s kid if she’s my kid?”

“So she isn’t your actual kid?” Creeper was beyond confused. He had a hunch that Ailee was never inside, it was all but confirmed for him. Jin would never have let Ailee remain in jail. Hell, her brothers would have never let her remain in jail. How could he be so naive to think they would do so? He knew Ailee was upset, but there was no way she would have them in a ‘no-visit’ list.

“That’s none of your business. She’s my child. There are plenty of people with brown eyes primo, stay away, this is your only warning.” Ailee took her child inside, Alexander following after her. 

He had to do some digging, but he was going to need some help. Taking his phone out from inside his kute, he dialed the number that he knew could help him.

“You busy?” 

Melody looked nothing like Alex. She was Angel’s kid and he was going to get to the bottom of this.

=============

Olivia walked out of her apartment, frowning when she saw Kevin across the street. She unlocked her car and watched as Kevin walked over to her. 

“EZ hasn’t been answering my calls.” Kevin informed her.

“And this concerns me why?”

“Don’t be difficult Liv, he needs to check in with me, you know this.” Kevin sighed. “I’m still trying to figure out how you managed to get this deal for him.”

“I know people.” Olivia shrugged. Kevin was such a lowly agent, he could never know of the existence of Maquina. Hell, only high ranking officers knew of their existence and even then, it was a hand selected few who knew of their existence. A shadow organization that helped the balance of power in various regions of the world.

“You must know high ranking people.” Kevin always tried to pry on what Olivia did for a living. He knew she headed an IT department for some company, but Olivia always kept him within arms length. Much like EZ, he’s known Olivia too yet, she was very hesitant to be alone with him. “Who do you know?”

“Doesn’t matter Kevin, if you nail Galindo, it’s beneficial for your career and keeps EZ away from jail.” She placed her things inside her car, turning to face Kevin. “I don’t see why there is a need for you to know who my connections are.”

“What happens to EZ when he serves his purpose?”

“Whatever he wants.” Olivia didn’t understand his question. EZ could do whatever he wants. “He could just tell the MC that this wasn’t the life for him and go from there.”

“You’re not worried he’s going to go back to Emily?” Kevin knew that Olivia had feelings for EZ. Only EZ didn’t seem to know she had feelings for him. 

“That’s none of my concern. EZ is a big boy, he can do whatever he pleases.” Olivia slammed the door to the back passenger. 

“After everything you’ve done for him, don’t you want him to at least return the favor?”

“Kevin, I didn’t do this so EZ could pay me back. He’s my best friend, I’m glad I was able to,” she sighed. “I want to help him. He can get his second chance in life, he’s far too brilliant to rot in prison.”

“Just tell him to call me.”

“Sure will.”

She watched as Kevin made his way back to his vehicle. She slid in her car, locking it immediately out of habit. She’s had a few close calls and would rather be safe. 

Olivia wasn’t going to lie. She wondered if EZ would go back to Emily once Miguel was in jail. He most likely would.

His first love.

Love of his life.

Olivia chuckled, shaking her head. She gave those hopes long ago. She deserved better than waiting for someone who would never see her. 

“Once this is done, you should come back to Spain.” She recalled Jin telling her. “Your talent is wasting away in Santo Padre. Ezekiel will be safe and can start over, you’ve given up so much for Ezekiel. It’s time to move on.”

Jin was right. It was time for Olivia to move on. She deserved a happy ending as well.

And maybe it was with Nathan, Alexander’s younger brother.

Olivia parked behind Carniceria Reyes, turning her car off and sliding out. She wanted to stop by before she spent the rest of her day at the coffee shop.

She knew EZ would be there.

And like she predicted, he was there with his father. 

“Mija, you’re here.” Felipe fondly greeted her.

“Hey pops.” Felipe refused to acknowledge her whenever she called him Mr. Reyes. He said they were family and she agreed. Her real family was basically non-existent. The family that she recognized 

“Hey Liv,” EZ greeted Olivia, giving her a quick hug. 

“Kevin came to see me.” 

EZ frowned. “Why?”

“You’ve been ignoring him, he wanted you to call him.”

Before EZ could reply, he heard a motorcycle making its way down. He watched as Angel stopped in front of the Carniceria.

“I’m going to tell Kevin to stop approaching you.” EZ didn’t feel comfortable involving Olivia in this whole ordeal. He told Kevin time and time again that his point of contact with him would be his father, not Oliva. He knew of the crush that Kevin harbored for Olivia ever since they were children, but Olivia was off-limits, Kevin knew that, he made sure of it. 

“EZ, it’s fine, he just wanted to make sure things were okay.”

“Let me rephrase that, I don’t want him talking to you. He’s putting you in danger.”

“Be reasonable, he’s hardly doing that.” Olivia wanted to tell him that her life was always on the line. That whenever she went to Europe, it might have been the last time she would see EZ when she visited him. Sure, she wasn’t a field agent, but the work she did for Maquina was immensely valuable. Taking her out of the picture would greatly blind Maquina.

Felipe had to hold back a chuckle as he saw how bent over Ezekiel was about Kevin approaching Olivia. Whenever they would have family parties and Olivia attended, Kevin was always far away since Ezekiel did not like how much Kevin tried to impress her. Olivia never seemed to mind Kevin’s presence, which further irritated Ezekiel.

“He’s staying away from you, that’s that.” EZ walked out to meet with Angel. 

Olivia looked at Felipe and sighed. “I’ll just go and say hi to Angel.” She walked out, Angel whistling as she did. 

“Knew there was a reason God wanted me to come to the carniceria.” Their flirty banter was always fun, but Olivia knew it was nothing, hell it was nothing to her and everyone knew who Angel belonged to.  

“Shut up Angel.” EZ put on his helmet. 

Olivia laughed. “Keep your brother safe.”

“Yes mom,” Angel winked at her. “You know I got him.” 

“You coming to give me a hug?” EZ opened his arms. 

Olivia shook her head and hugged him. She loved hugging EZ. It always brought her comfort when she was young and there was no difference now. When she first picked him up from prison, it was such a satisfying feeling. She hugged him tightly and he ended up sleeping over her place that night, catching him up on all the pop culture things that she could do in one night. Ever since then, EZ slept over often and they would just watch endless television shows. 

Currently they were watching Stranger Things, almost caught up with the series. 

“Be safe.” She kissed his cheek.

“Of course, we have to finish Stranger Things.” He smirked. 

She watched as the two brothers drove away. Looking across the street, she saw Alexander outside, shaking his head. The smirk on his face made her chuckle. Alexander was the older brother she never wanted, but she was truly glad to have him in her life. Crossing the street, she made her way towards Alexander, shaking her head. 

“Knew you couldn’t stay away.” 

“You know me, wherever she goes, I go.” Alexander shrugged. “Nathaniel will be disappointed to know you’re around Ezekiel again.”

“Nathaniel isn’t my boyfriend and even if he always understood my relationship with EZ.” Olivia walked in the cafe, a smile immediately spreading across her face. “Melly!” She fondly called out to Melody,

Melody turned around, smiling as her eyes landed on Auntie Olivia. She ran up to her and Olivia caught her, lifting her up in her arms. “Look at you, you’re so big now.” She kissed her cheek. “Mommy is going to be so much nicer now cause you’re here.”

“Haha,” Ailee shook her head. “Liv, did you get the tickets for the Safari Park?”

“Yes, I emailed them to Sierra last night.” Olivia was pretty sure she did, especially since Ailee wouldn’t stop bothering her about it.

“Sierra did get it and I emailed it to both of these difficult people.” Sierra Ayala, Alexander’s assistant and right hand woman replied as she walked towards them. “If you two actually checked your emails, this wouldn’t be an issue.” 

“You’re the best Sierra.” Ailee bowed to her. “We’re all going right?”

“Yes, I figured it would be nice to give everyone a break.” Olivia placed Melody back on the ground. “We can get an AirBNB there and enjoy a few days off after the opening?” 

“Sure, that sounds like a plan.” Alexander agreed. “Sierra, mind booking it for us?”

“It’s what you pay me for.” Sierra teased. “Would you mind if I skip out? I have friends and family in Los Angeles I would like to visit.”

“Sierra, why didn’t you say so? Alexander can handle his vices for the next week. Take the time off, spend time with family.” Ailee suggested. “I can have one of the trainees tend to Alex’s needs.”

Sierra looked apprehensive with Ailee’s suggestion. She’s been on vacation before, but the longest she had been away from Alex was about a week and half before she came back. She was antsy. Alexander was an adult and could handle himself, but she also knew how disorganized Alex was, how terrible he was at checking his calendar. Even though she got a temp while she was gone, she knew how unbearable Alex could be. 

“I see that look, I’ll be fine.” Alex promised her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I know I seem helpless, but I promise I’m not. How much trouble can I get with going to the zoo?” 

Ailee, Olivia and Sierra gave Alexander a look. Alexander rolled his eyes and took Melody. “Come on Melly, we’re not appreciated here.” He walked away, leaving the three women laughing. 

“Is everything in place for Alexander to take over or is Nathaniel and Victor making noise?” Ailee questioned Sierra as they all took a seat around the table.

Sierra placed a tablet in front of Ailee. “Nathaniel doesn’t care much for the illegal side of the business, he however wants to manage the real estate side. Victor, well, you know he has his own business.”

“Matchmaking is hardly a business.” Olivia chuckled. 

“It’s working for him.” Sierra shrugged. “Alexander is poised to take over, but Nathaniel switches his mind every once in a while. Though, it doesn’t seem that their father would hand the business to Nate anyway.” 

“Why, Nate is competent enough.” Olivia had a soft spot for Nate. He was her first boyfriend, the man who made her see a life away from EZ, but they broke up a year ago since Olivia didn’t want to make the move to Spain as he had been requesting.

“Nate also acts on impulse and is not very business minded. He doesn’t think of the long run and thinks of the short run.” Ailee knew that handing Nate the business wouldn’t benefit the Leon’s especially since he wanted to break ties with Maquina, believing they were limiting their potential. “And he wouldn’t keep the relationship with Maquina, which, you know, to each their own.”

“He thinks that they would be fine without Maquina’s protection.” Sierra confirmed Ailee’s words.

“Without our protection, they would be indicted.” Olivia frowned. She knew Nate always just thought that everything was so simple and Olivia couldn’t blame him. Everything was handed to him, whatever he wanted, his parents gave to him. He thought that they were untouchable, that this deal was for Maquina’s benefit, but that was hardly ever the case. 

Maquina swept in before a government agency could indict a certain crime organization, offer them immunity and the ability to continue their operations with no government interference, as long as they remained the most powerful organization in their area, keeping the balance of power and unabling any other organization to take over. It seemed simple, but it was complex. 

It didn’t always work out.

There were eastern european countries that had too many players in the game to truly fully control it, but Maquina had some strongholds in Poland and Romania. Otherwise, every other country was still free for all.

Maquina’s purpose was so fluid. On one hand they were used to assassinate government officials to install a new power. Then other times, they were implanted to empower rebel groups to overthrow out of control regimes. There truly was no black and white in this world, it was whoever benefited who. 

But the Leon’s had a stronghold in West Germany, Spain, and Italy for the last thirty years. With Alexander taking over, they expected for it to continue, even if they were trying to become legit, which was a hoax. 

No one ever went “legit”. Illegal work was always so much more beneficial. 

=============

Creeper parked his motorcycle under the shaded area of the yard, right beside his Hank’s motorcycle. His eyes landed on Vince, as he ate chips atop the picnic table. He knew that Vince was in town as well, which was never a good thing. Two Maquina agents in one place was far too many. It meant that they were implementing a program here, which meant that something or someone has piqued their interest. 

“Creep, this is a sudden phone call.” Vince finished off his chips, crumpling it and making it in the trashcan a few feet away from the picnic table. 

“Something isn’t adding up.” Creeper didn’t want to beat around the bush. Ailee was his younger cousin that he always protected. It killed him to not be able to see her while she faced this jail sentence. He didn’t know how to help her and all he wanted to do was just that. 

“Numbers wise? I don’t do book keeping, you know this.” Vince knew why Creeper called him over. Maybe he was laying devil’s advocate, but he didn’t give a fuck. It was time the Mayans found out what was going on. He was never onboard about keeping them in the dark about Ailee, especially not Angel. 

“Your sister seems haunted.”

“She was in jail for five years.” 

“You know what I mean, that’s not jail.” Creeper sat beside Vince. “Come on, we were all close once. It killed me knowing she was in there. She was the little sister I never had. Be truthful with me, you know you could trust me.”

Vince sighed. He retrieved the folder he was sitting on, handing it over to Creeper. “All the information you want, you need, is in that folder. John and I figured that it would be best for us to be as honest as possible.” John thought it was best to set up life for Ailee after Maquina. Once they took care of Theo, both brothers wanted her away from Maquina. What better place to stay than her safe haven?

“She has a kid?” Creeper questioned.

“Melody is here?” Vince was surprised that his niece was in town, but he figured Alex brought her along. Melody only could be apart from her mother for so long. 

“Is she Angel’s?”

“No, Ailee adopted her from an orphanage in Europe.” Vince explained. He understood Creeper’s confusion, the kid did look like a mixture of Ailee and Angel. But as far as he knew, the kid was adopted. Ailee brought Melody home one day, explaining she was from an orphanage in Spain. “Not Reyes’ kid.”

Creeper eyed him, but ultimately chose to move on. 

“Your sister wasn’t in jail was she?”

“I’ll be back with John later tonight, might want to share that with your brethren.” Vince got off the table, making his way over to his car.

“We have a run later.”

“Tomorrow then.” 

“Vince, why is Maquina setting shop in Santo Padre?”

Vince chuckled. “Why else would we set up shop? There’s a threat that has to be controlled.”

“Galindo?”

“We have bigger cartel’s to worry about before we worry about the Galindo cartel.”

“Who is it?”

“We don’t know yet, but we’ll keep you all updated.” Vince unlocked his car.

Creeper watched as Vince’s car disappeared, sighing. He opened the folder and his hunched was confirmed. Ailee’s release date stated December 14, 2014. Closing the folder, he made his way inside the clubhouse.

“She was never in jail.” Creeper threw the folder down at the table where Angel, Bishop and Taza were sitting. 

“The fuck you mean?” Angel questioned. 

“Vince dropped off all those records right now. You guys saw him.” Creeper sat beside Angel. “She was in jail for that initial two weeks, but otherwise, no other fucking records.”

“That’s fucking impossible.” Bishop had to play charade. He knew Ailee wasn’t in jail, he didn’t make a deal with her uncle for no reason. “Your father saw her.”

“That was during her first two weeks.” Angel looked at the records and she was booked in the jail, her release date was what fucked him up. “It says her release date was December 14, 2014.” 

“Exactly. Ailee was arrested around Thanksgiving when we had that run to Vegas. She was released two weeks later.” Creeper knew something was off. Ailee didn’t even look like she had a hair touched on her head. She looked hardened as if she was in jail, but it wasn’t for survival. 

“Jin most likely bailed her out, using his connections.” Creeper, Taza, Hank and Bishop knew what Maquina was, the rest of the members didn’t, not even Angel. They knew that Jin was a powerful man, but they just had their guesses as to why he was so powerful. Creeper knew of Maquina, the details, not as much, but he knew not to fuck with them. They could make anyone disappear. One call, and it was done.  

“She made a deal.” Angel looked through the paperwork in front of him. It was her release forms. “Jin bailed her out, this is his signature.”

“Well if she made a deal, what could it possibly be?”

It dawned on Angel that whatever business Ailee’s family was involved in, it wasn’t exactly safe. He remembered when they were younger, how Ailee was always in physical activities that involved fighting. Her parents were very adamant that she learned how to defend herself, get good grades and not interact with many people. She was always in her books, books that kids her age at that time shouldn’t be reading. Angel always thought that her parents were strict and rarely let their kids have any fun. Ailee was a very affectionate child, but she was always rejected by her parents. The only time she could enjoy any affection or praise were from his own parents. It was weird how his parents seemed to understand Ailee’s hardship along with her brothers. 

Ailee always said that she didn’t want to get in the family business, it cost your soul, she had told him. But it seemed like that’s what happened.

“It’s her soul. She exchanged her soul for freedom.”

[guardianofjunmyeon]

Finding Atlantis (part 5)

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, PirateAU

Description:  20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor, to  any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man has  heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean. But fewer  men know the tale of it’s missing child. The key to the ocean, the key  to Atlantis but a lost little one. The power one would hold should they  find this child would be nearly that of Poseidon himself. Thus, the hunt  began.    

A/N: Here we are with an update a week later! :3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

You both watch as Chanyeol runs off to collect the new additions to your crew. You furrow your brows. “You’re willing to just leave your ship and your men?” you ask.

He shrugs and starts walking in the direction of the dock. “It’s not my ship. I stole it and scouted a couple of men to help me man it. Jongin, Chanyeol, and Sehun are the only men I really consider my crew.”

“Oh,” you say quietly.

“They don't really need me, the other men. They can have the ship; they were bound to mutiny any day now. I wasn’t paying them shit,” he laughs loudly. You look at him a bit sadly and then conceal it.

What’s a captain without his ship?

In that case, you suppose you don’t have any reason not to take them on as your own. You grab him by the arm to stop him. “Alright, well let’s shake on it. On our temporary ally ship.” You jut out your hand and he takes it in his without hesitation. A solid handshake is all it takes to put the past aside.

“Let’s get this sea bitch home!” He chirps. You give him a tired look and he shrugs it off unapologetically. “What?”

You can see your ship clearly as you near the dock, and a happiness that you haven’t felt in weeks blossoms in your chest. You missed her. You missed her a fucking lot.

“Byun Baekhyun and the Storm Chaser at the same port yet again. I wouldn’t believe myself if I didn’t see it with my own eyes.” You stop in your tracks as a group of three men walk up blocking your path. The man on the left is short and stocky. His skin looks like poorly cared for leather and a tattoo of a water dragon stretches up his neck and covers half of his face. The man in the center, the man who spoke, has a beard so long and unkempt that you can image a family of lice living there unperturbed for generations. The last man is the tallest of the three, extremely skinny, with a creepy smile gleaming with fake gold teeth.

You clench your fists. You just can’t catch a break being around Baekhyun can you? “You must be its captain, going around and stealing other ships to keep your identity a secret, huh? You must think you’re hot shit, you one-eyed fuck,” the obvious leader of the group says, beard lice landlord.

Baekhyun gasps dramatically and places one hand over his heart and the other over his eye patch, “Hurtful.”

You want to drive your sword through the man’s stomach for assuming Baekhyun, of all people, captain of your beloved ship.

It’s been months since you’ve gotten a chance to really use a sword, and with the way things are shaping, it looks like your drought may soon be over. The men train their eyes solely on Baekhyun, and you want to laugh at the fact that they’re completely overlooking the actual Captain in lieu of having a pissing contest with Baekhyun.

Men make you sick.

You’d rather die than let Baekhyun take these kills and your title from you.

The leader takes a step forward and you reach for your blade. Baekhyun side-steps you and blocks you from their vision. Your cheeks flame in anger. “Hey now guys. Come on, why don’t we all just relax and go our separate ways? I need to get back to my ship. As you can see I’ve got company.” He jerks his thumb in your direction and you grumble low in your throat.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” you murmur murderously to Baekhyun’s back.

“Screw you and your whore Byun. There’s quite the reward for you, dead or alive. And another even larger one for that ship there’s captain.” Baekhyun’s mouth turns down in a frown while yours turns up in satisfaction. You’re worth more than he is? A win for you. “We could kill two birds with one gun,” the man continues. His fingers twitch towards the weapon at his side.

Looks like a fight, you think happily. You grab Baekhyun’s shirt to pull him back so that you don’t have to worry about killing him in the crosshairs. Then again, maybe you should slice your way through him first.

He takes a step backwards to your side. “Slap me,” he whispers. You look at him incredulously. “Slap me and follow my lead,” he says a bit louder.

Whatever.

You strike him with all the strength in your body. You aren’t sure why you needed to smack him but you aren’t going to turn down an invitation. The “Ow!” that falls loudly from his lips is genuinely angry. You almost think that the two of you are just going to fight to the death right here to save the idiots -trying to stop you from getting to your ship- the trouble. The sting in your hand feels, so, so good.

He cradles his cheek and his eye flashes angrily before he masks it. “Baby, what’s wrong now?”

You physically recoil in disgust. Baby?

His eye flickers to the side where the men are standing, seemingly amused by what Baekhyun is trying to paint as a couple’s spat. Oh. Realization hits and you jump into your role as the angry lover.

Honestly, you don’t have to try that hard.

“Baby? Don’t fucking call me baby. Why’s it that every time I find myself with you, someone is trying to kill us? Huh? I’m sick and tired of being dragged into your bullshit,” you exclaim. He scoffs, genuinely, or part of the role, you can’t tell. You poke him hard in his chest. “Don’t you think that I want to go out on a walk or go out to eat without…without,” you glance around and spot a woman pushing her child in a stroller. You take in a breath and place you hand over your abdomen. “Without fearing for me and my baby’s life?”

He blinks rapidly. “Baby?” You can hear equal parts repulsion and amusement in the tone of his voice.

“Yes, baby. I didn’t want to tell you like this, but of course this is how you ended up finding out. I’m fucking sick of this Baekhyun!”

“There’s no way that baby is mine. I’ve always used protection.” You raise your eyebrows in amazement. Now that was a flat out lie. His lip twitches upwards.

“Are you calling me a whore?” you hiss.

He holds out his hands in defense. “I’m just saying in your profession I’m sure that you have to entertain lots of men and-” You pull out your sword and point it at his chest.

“The women who sleep with people for money work hard for what they’ve earned, and should be respected for their profession.”

“Don’t act too rash…” he takes a step back and raises his eyebrow minutely. You hope that is some kind of signal, because you don’t know how much longer you can go around acting before you actually drive your sword through his shoulder. “Think of the-” he unsheathes his own sword “Baby!” and hits yours away.

Your arm veers to the right from the impact. Purely from the surprise of it all, you swing your sword back at Baekhyun by instinct. He manages to block the hit. He swings back and nearly nicks your arm; luckily you manage to shift enough for it to swipe at nothing but air. He’s getting too fucking close for this to be part of the act.

You aim for his knee and he jumps back just barely avoiding your attack. “Now!” he shouts to you. It takes you a full second to remember that you aren’t actually supposed to be fighting Baekhyun, but the men still watching you both, fully distracted. You turn your blade on the man closest to you, the man with golden teeth, and swing it across his face. He screams and drops to his knees while Baekhyun drives his sword through the stomach of the shorter man with the tattoo on his face. You quickly slide your blade through the neck of the man on the ground in front of you and turn to find Baekhyun trying to fight off the larger leader of the group.

You run passed the henchmen you each put down, dropping the larger sword you grabbed off Junmyeon to the ground. You snatch the shorter knife on lice beard’s hip while he’s distracted and jump on his back, pulling his head to the side and slicing his throat open with ease. He collapses backwards and you let yourself fall to the ground first and roll far enough way so his dead body won’t crush you.

Your chest rises and falls with adrenaline and you wipe the blood on the blade off onto the thigh of your pants. Baekhyun’s hand lands on your shoulder, “Nice-” your knife drives through his side. “FUCK- why’dyou-shit!” You turn to see him holding both his hands over the shallow gash in his side. You throw the bloodied knife to the ground and stand up, still breathing heavily.

“Sorry,” you say flatly. “Heat of the moment…baby.”

“Oh fuck you,” he spits.

“Come on.” You grab his right arm and throw it over your shoulder. You guide him over to your discarded sword and he hisses with each movement. You let him lean on you as you guide him back, limping, to your ship.

“You did that on purpose,” he accuses. You bite your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “You’re smiling about it? I fucking knew it. You’re a fucking liar, what happened to the truce?”

“It’s not that deep a cut. You aren’t going to die from it. We’ll get you stitched up; stop whining.”

Despite your words, he whines all the way onto your ship. Yixing looks at you with raised eyebrows and you shake your head. “Don’t ask right now. Make sure everyone is aboard and let’s put some distance between us and land.”

Yixing smirks and goes off to get the ship in motion. You decide to attend to the crybaby leaning against you yourself. The infirmary isn’t far from the forecastle, where most of the living quarters are. You stumble into the room and let him go so that he can sit down while you search for the supplies needed to fix him up.

He moans pitifully and you shush him. “Shut up, you aren’t that hurt.”

“You aren’t the one who got stabbed.”

“I stabbed you with a purpose. It stings worse than it actually is.” Supplies collected, you kneel down at his side and lift up his shirt. “Hold it up,” you command. He grumbles but follows your instruction. You wipe away the blood surrounding the cut and work on disinfecting the actual wound. Just as you’d said, it’s not large. About as thick as your pinky and as long as your thumb.

He hisses for a long time as you wordlessly clean the wound. When he flinches so hard that he almost kicks the needle from your hand, you sigh and look up at him.

“Hold still,” you admonish.

You return your focus back on stitching the wound so that it will close on its own. It’s not a pretty job, but it will keep. You feel just the smallest twinge of guilt for slicing open his side during your truce, but it fades quickly at the many memories of the times he’s stabbed or shot you.  

Truce be damned for a second. He had this coming. You sit up on your knees as you wrap a dressing around his waist to cover the fresh stitches. As a way to silently apologize for going back on your truce, you treat him with gentle fingers and careful touches. You secure the dressing and sit back on your heels satisfied. You exhale softly and feel strangely proud of your work. You feel a small smile etching itself on your lips before you look up and catch Baekhyun looking down at you. His expression unreadable.

Your smile slides off. He lets his shirt drop down to cover the bandages, stark white against his tanned skin, and you feel a bit uncomfortable with the seriousness in his gaze.

“When you’re ready you can come out and we’ll have a meeting with all of the crew.” He nods and then avoids your eyes. You frown and leave the room a bit aggravated with his behavior. What the fuck is his problem?

Jongin comes up to you as soon as you’re out of the infirmary. “Is he okay? What happened?” He sounds as distressed as he looks.

“He’s fine. It’s a little cut. Nothing he hasn’t dealt with before.” You try to smile reassuringly but it comes out as a grimace at best. Jongin’s eyes widen when he looks behind you and he jogs off with a worried, “Baekhyun!”

Yixing leans against the newly repaired mainmast with knowing eyes. He gives you a thumbs up, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Attention everyone!” you call. A circle begins to form around you. You take note of faces, those you know well, those you know are new, and the ones you know are missing. You feel sadness deep in your heart.

But the ship must go on.

“Everyone, we have added a few new members to our crew as we head off on our new mission. I know that our original plans were to go on that bounty hunt, but circumstances…changed.” You glance towards Baekhyun and his men all standing together. “I know that we have lost a few men in the last weeks, and we will be sending them off in the way that we know how later on tonight.” You watch faces fall across your crew.

“For now, I want to inform you all of our next course of action. I previously discussed this with Junmyeon and Yeri, and they have decided to join me in asking for your support.” You look over and see Yeri nodding her head. Junmyeon looks on tiredly. “We are going after Atlantis…again.” You expect the disgruntled murmurs and hushed whispers among your men. You continue on, “I know that I said we were done trying to find it, but we’ve recently come across some new information.” You motion to Baekhyun. He waves happily to your crew.

You shake your head in annoyance. “If you have any disagreements with our plan, feel free to come talk to me or Junmyeon personally.” No one speaks up so you push on. “Junmyeon, you still have the compass and map I gave you right?” He nods. “I need you and Yeri to make sense of the map as best you can; I’ll be there to explain some things in a minute.”

“Are we not locking Byun up?” Minseok asks.

You sigh. “No, he’ll just pick his way out like a little roach. They'll be sleeping in the crew living quarters. They’re a part of this crew during the duration of this mission; treat them accordingly,” you tell your crew. “As for you all, the rules on this ship are simple. You do your job, you respect everyone on this ship as you would yourself, and you don’t lay a hand on anyone in any way deemed inappropriate. Break these rules and I will personally slice your penis off your body and force you to watch as it’s dropped into the sea,” you tell Baekhyun’s additions to the vessel.

“A-Ay,” Chanyeol stammers.

“That’s ‘Ay Captain’,” you correct.

“Ay, Captain!” all but one repeats. Baekhyun clenches his jaw, refuses to give in. You wait with both hands settled on your hips. Your crewmen look on in a mix of amusement and apprehension at the rising tension.

“I don’t think I heard you Byun.”

He laughs in incredulity. Arms cross over his chest. “Ay, Captain,” he acquiesces. You tilt your head proud of his compliance.

“Alright everyone, let’s get moving!” You crew disperses and you follow Junmyeon with your eyes as he heads into your quarters chatting animatedly with Yeri at his side.

You feel Baekhyun’s presence before you hear him. “It’s him isn’t it? Suho. Junmyeon.”

You nod slowly, staring at the door where your first mate has gone. “Yeah,” you murmur. You know that Baekhyun is still missing a lot of essential information about Junmyeon, about Suho, about his life and how he ended up here practically co-captain of your ship.

You’ll fill him in at some point.

All in due time.

You don’t want to think about all of this quite yet, not with him, so you deflect the conversation. “What can your men do, where can I put them?” You scan the four men standing a bit shyly behind their former captain.

“Jongin was in charge of medical. He’s good with medicine and rigging. Chanyeol was our best man in the artillery and also worked the kitchen with Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo was our head cook, but is also well-trained with artillery and general sailing strategies. Sehun has good direction and ability to decipher maps,” Baekhyun rattles off.

That’s good. You needed these skills. From what you could tell, you lost your cook and doctor, Kun, two gunners, Jaehyun and Amber, and… Taemin. Each loss hurts a bit more when you think too long about their absence. You try your hardest not to let it show on your face. It feels sick to replace them with people that are responsible for their deaths.

“Kyungsoo, you can head to the kitchen. It’s under your control, we lost our cook when-” you suck in a breath to stop yourself. Chanyeol and Jongin wince. “The kitchen is all yours.” You finish lamely. “Jongin you’re in charge of our infirmary. Our cook was also our head doctor,” you say bitterly. He avoids your eyes and draws into himself. “I’ll tell Minseok to get Chanyeol and Kyungsoo acquainted with our artillery. You and Sehun meet me in my quarters in 10 minutes. We need to figure out our heading.” You turn on them before any questions can be asked and walk a bit dizzily to the forecastle and very front of your ship for a second to yourself.

You hadn’t gotten a chance to mourn the men you lost, and being hit so suddenly with their absence as you quickly filled positions they each held for years is painful enough to force tears from your eyes. You try not to cry in front of your crew for the sake of morale, but it’s tough to skip over the mourning process in order to get back to work. Everyone else at least had a month to properly mourn.

You get a few hours at most.

You wipe away the tears and try to gather your breathing before you have to face everyone in your quarters. You don’t want it to be too obvious that you were crying.

“Hey…” you sniff and rub at your face with the palms of your hands harshly. Yixing walks to your side and leans against the railing with you. He looks out at the expanse of water and gives you a few seconds of grateful silence before he speaks again. “You don't have to hide your crying like this. We all really miss them, you don’t have to pretend that you aren’t hurt.” He pauses. “You could at least choose a better location, you’re completely visible up here,” he jokes. You laugh a bit.

The wind blows and the ship’s sails flap.

“I’m just…it feels wrong to fill their spots like this. It was Baekhyun and his crew’s fault that they died. It’s his fault and now they’re just taking up their space as if nothing is wrong,” you wipe away another stray tear angrily. You understand that taking them on was the smartest decision given the circumstances, but it doesn’t lessen the feeling of betrayal.

Yixing hums. “You know…I don’t want you to think that I’m taking their side because I’m not. But…I don’t think they meant to kill any of our men in the attack.” You look at him in horror. How could he defend them when you all lost men because of them? He sets his lips in a line. “Their cannons were aimed at the mainmast to keep us immobile, and that’s where they hit. When it fell, it nearly hit Junmyeon but Taemin pushed him out of the way and it crushed his legs instead. He held on for a bit, but got sick on top of his injuries as we headed to Arae. He died in the infirmary. Kun got sick while he was trying to take care of Taemin. Pneumonia. We had to quarantine them both for days before they passed away. One of our cannons backfired when we tried to attack Baekhyun’s ship in return, and it took out Amber and Jaehyun. You and I both know how often that can happen in the artillery,” he explains.

You process his words and you know that, logically, all of these things were accidents, a series of unfortunate events and not malicious attempts at murder, but the irrational side of you wants to blame someone. To blame Baekhyun.

“I’m not telling you not to be angry, or upset,” Yixing continues. “I just want you to look at this objectively and realize that it isn’t completely their faults that we lost our men. Fate just…wasn’t on our sides.” He gazes at you with soft eyes. You can feel angry tears welling up again. He pats your shoulder. “Take a while to cool down, to mourn. I’ll tell Junmyeon that you’ll be a minute.”

Yixing leaves with a squeeze of your shoulder and you let yourself breakdown. The tears fall heavily and your chest tightens so much that it physically hurts to breathe. You could curse the sky, the moon, the ocean, but at the end of the day, it was just their time to go.

If Yixing truly believes that it wasn’t blatant murder then you have to take a second to separate your mind from your emotions as well. You can’t storm off and make their lives hell; you told your crewmen that these new additions are a part of your crew. You all have to respect that for the time being.

You could ask anyone on your crew and you’re sure that they would tell you the same things. How they died, the circumstances. They’re truthful people. They wouldn’t recount it blinded by rage and hatred.

They will all tell you what they saw, just as they saw it.

They would say that it was all just bad timing.

Maybe that’s what upsets you most.    

You take a few more minutes to wipe your face and gather your composure before you walk into the Captain’s Quarters where Yeri and Junmyeon are crouched over the map and compass speaking in hushed tones. You can see the confusion in Junmyeon’s furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips.

“Does anything look familiar?” You ask smoothly.

“Vaguely,” Junmyeon says before he looks up from the table. He quickly takes in your appearance, and opens his mouth to comment, confusion on his face switching to concern when the door opens and Baekhyun walks in with Sehun on his tail.

Yeri opens and closes the compass. “Your compass is broken,” she says.

“It’s not broken,” Baekhyun corrects. “It supposedly points to the thing you want most in the world.”

“No kidding,” Yeri exclaims in amazement.

You avoid Junmyeon’s eyes as you project composure to the rest of the people in the room. He knows you well enough to know when something is wrong, but that doesn’t mean that everyone else does. “Yeah, that’s what Baekhyun and I were told when it was given to us. Is your home the place you want most in the world?” You ask Junmyeon.

There is a deep sadness in his eyes that only slightly covers up his concern. “I don’t know,” he admits.

“Well we’re kind of fucked if you don’t want to go back,” Baekhyun observes bluntly. Sehun elbows him in the arm to shut him up.

“I know…it’s been a very long time since you’ve been home, and I know there were reasons that you left. But I need you to look deep within yourself and tell me that you don’t still ache to return.” His gaze wavers under yours; he breaks eye contact first. “It’s okay,” you assure him, walking over to rub his back as he tries not to show the battle he’s been waging with himself for years.

He tries to hide it.

You know him well enough to be able to see it anyway.

“This was always the end goal, right? You never have to feel bad for wanting to go home.” You try to smile. Yeri whimpers and throws her arms around him in a hug. Baekhyun and Sehun stand awkwardly to side while you all try to contain your emotions. This isn’t goodbye.

“Maybe you’d be able to come and visit again,” Sehun offers softly.

“Yeah, you guys are acting like he’s going to die if he goes back. People leave Atlantis all the time,” Baekhyun adds.

You grab the closed compass from the table and place it in your first mate’s palm. “Just think of home,” you comment softly.

He takes in a large breath and closes his eyes. You open the compass in his hand and watch it spin wildly from side to side before finally settling. Baekhyun peaks over your shoulder.

“Huh,” he remarks in amazement.

Junmyeon opens his eyes and looks down.

“Southeast,” you say in unison. Yeri motions Sehun to her side. They begin using the heading with the map you were given to chart.

“We’re going to finish this. I promise,” you tell the man at your side.

Baekhyun pushes between you both to grab the compass from Junmyeon’s hand. “Irene said that the sea wants you and that you should listen to her song to lead you home.” He plays with the device with deft fingers.

Junmyeon tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. “Song? I mean…sometimes I hear noises. Something like a melody. It happens randomly, at different times of the day and sometimes not for months at a time. It’s the same tune every time.” He laughs embarrassed. “I just thought it was sea madness or something.”

“We need you to figure out where it wants you to go. You’re the only one who can hear it and follow it. The song and a rhyme, they're the main things you need to get home,” you tell him. “I don’t remember what the rhyme was…fuck I should have written it down-”

“Follow the sound of your soul, she’ll call out to you to bring you back to your shoal. She’ll fight you to prove that your heart is true, to crush you and build you back stronger in her darkest shade of blue. Beautiful songs will call out to confuse the path, to distract you, but remembering your heart will get you through. She’ll finally take you in her arms again, cradled and safe where all life began,” Baekhyun repeats the rhyme with ease. You look at him amazed.

Junmyeon murmurs the rhyme under his breath. “I-I think that I’ve heard that rhyme before…when I was younger. I’d forgotten all about it,” he says in shock. He falls into the chair closest to him heavily and begins to repeat it over and over to himself softly.

“Southeast,” you murmur to yourself. Junmyeon is the only one who can piece together the missing parts of his memory. The longer he’s away, the less he’s able to recall about his relationship with the ocean. Little pieces of memory, little parts of himself, all lost with time. “Yeri, can you work with Sehun and Baekhyun to figure out what we should expect to encounter?” She nods determined. Sehun gives you a decided look and you know that they will work hard together to piece together whatever they can with what little information you all have.

You and Baekhyun share a look. An understanding finally settling between you after all that’s happened, after all that’s been revealed. He nods. You offer a small smile in return.

[sp00kworm]

Maybe The Outsiders first time on land since sinking into the ocean or his complete lack of social skills, something like that. You're the writer here not me.

Pairing: (Slight) Corvo Attano x The Outsider

A/N: This is a short snippet of something I intend to properly finish one day. I do love Dishonored and the world just drags me back in time and time again. 

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Whale Song

The blood had run out. The Outsider remembered the vague sensation of losing the feeling in his extremities before the world had flickered slowly into darkness. He remembered trying to curl his fingers despite not being able to breathe as the dark spots blinked closer and closer to his sight. The last air left him as he wondered why he felt so cold. The Outsider hadn’t felt the cold of the water in many years. Thousands if he had kept track of time correctly. But he realised quickly that his years of experience had very little relevance in real, day to day life. Billie Lurk had gone to kill him. To avenge her mentor, perhaps? He found himself uncaring when he felt the void blade slice into his gut before she whispered his real name back to him. Fear pulsed through him similarly as to when he was laid bleeding out into the water as a young man, fingers grasping at nothing as he felt something snap within him. Thousands of years of power and the residual hum of power in his veins was gone. He gasped the first new breath of life clutching Billie Lurk with weak fingers, feeling the place around him grow cold and harsh as he was removed from his home.

 “Being human means, you’ll feel a lot worse than this, guppy.” Billie sighed as she wrapped him in the third blanket from the storage room, the fabric coarse and rough underneath his fingertips. The Outsider shivered underneath the layers, looking out of the thin glass windows at the choppy seas surrounding them in the middle of nowhere, floating on the ocean, heading back towards Dunwall and where they knew two people would be curious as to what was happening with the Void.

“I know well what it means to be human. I did used to be one, in case you had forgotten.” He snapped as she stoked the little furnace with a laugh and moved forwards on her stool, face looking younger for a smile. Billie Lurk had seen a lot in her time, but nothing was more amusing than a God pretending to remember what it was like to be starkly mortal.

“Although I know you were once a human, I don’t think you even remotely remember what it was like to be one.” She teased as he huddled in on himself, nose dripping with snot in the bitter cold of the seas.

“I can…vaguely remember what it was like. It was not a kind existence. I wasn’t granted a great start in life, and it ended all too early.” He uttered, young green eyes staring out at the sea as it rocked them back and forth. It was almost calming. Perhaps the Void was looking for him. He saw the great fins of a whale disappear underneath a great crashing wave and sighed bitterly. The ends of his fingers didn’t ripple with power, and he stared at them, willing the Void to himself only for it to end in failure like the rest of his attempts.

“None of us have it easy. Life’s a bitch like that.” Billie cursed with a harsh chuckle as she reached for a pipe and tapped the contents out into a small ash tray on her table. She pushed a knife inside to grind at the wood and ash inside before pushing tobacco inside and lighting it with a match. The Outsider curled his nose at the stench of smoke as he reached his hands out of the blanket and towards the flames to try and warm his palms. The sensation of burning heat made his fingers recoil before he took a breath and held his hands as close as he dared to the fire.

“Life is wonderful in all forms…I just wonder where my own will lead now.” He confessed as he rubbed at his knuckles and looked at his own pale skin, flushed with pumping blood underneath it.

Billie shrugged her shoulders, “Firsts things first, it leads you back to your precious Attano and Kaldwin. They can decide what to do with you after I get you there.”

 Disposed of. Billie wanted no ties to him. It made sense. She held a hatred towards him even with her sparing of him. A twisted sense of justice was for him to live his life out as a human. To suffer a mortal existence, and then to end, like he had watched so many of his chosen do, the latest having been Daud. He’d felt his hatred and his movement within the Void. Now Daud was cursed to wander it alone. Alone with the whale song singing in his ears as he peered into the endless shadows and reflections of blood and water.

“So, you are giving me away?” He droned as the heat seared at his fingertips, cold burning with heat in the tips of them as he pulled them back into the blankets. He blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the sleep from his eyes as the boat rocked harshly with a vicious wave.

Billie scoffed from her stool, her feet put up on the table as she looked at the maps before her, “I never wanted you to babysit in the first place, but I thought you deserved better than a watery grave of nothing.” She confessed as she puffed on her pipe, “I would much rather you be safe with Corvo Attano than shivering aboard my ship, Outsider.” She teased, blowing smoke rings before she reached for a pan to put on top of the furnace to heat up some tinned food.

 “I do not think they want to see me.” He whispered, rubbing his hands together under the coarse fabric as Billie poured a tin of beans into the pan and watched the heat begin to bubble the juice they were stored in. She unwrapped a loaf of bread and revealed cheese and jellied eels. He wasn’t a fan of eels, nor was he a fan of anything meat related, but he knew Billie would only roll her eyes if he protested. He would eat the beans, cheese and bread, but he would rather leave the jellified eels away in their tin. Billie could have his portion of those.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Billie looked at him with raised eyebrows, “They’re probably the only people that like you…” She added as she leaned over and stirred the pan of beans.

The Outsider scoffed, rubbing at the dark circles underneath his eyes, “Corvo saw me as a method to save his daughter, and his daughter saw me as a method to save her father.” He confessed, “I was only a persistent entity between the two of them. A common occurrence.” He watched Billy cut two slices of bread and place them on her least dirty plates from the cabinet before she cut thick wads of cheese and laid them on top of it before taking the beans from the wood stove and sharing it between them. The jellied eels were left on the table for herself as she handed the Outsider a spoon and his plate of food.

 Billie hummed around a mouthful of bread and cheese, “I think you’re being dramatic.” She snorted with laughter and a harsh smile before pointing her knife at him, the end piercing out of skewered cheese, “They don’t hate you and I think you believe that little Empress actually despises you. Let me tell you, I’ve spoken to the two of them, and neither of them hold any ill will towards you. Corvo once drank too much Orbon Rum and told me about the Whale God he saw in his sleep after Jessamine’s death. He’s a hard man to read, but he sometimes talks.” She shrugged her shoulders, “He doesn’t talk a lot, mind you, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t know just who he was talking about.” Billie chewed her cheese before grumbling, “That and the vicious nightmares Emily used to scream in. Or those she used to sleepwalk in. She’d climb the stacks of barrels sometimes and just sit, muttering to herself about nothing. I couldn’t understand her half the time.” Billie looked him in the eyes and saw a young man, scared and closed off from the world for too long. He was like a child.

“She dreamed of me for a long time. I used to pull her into the Void to take her away from her mother’s death. She…She liked the whales but…She screamed when she saw the wounds on their backs and…” He rung his hands, “She feared my eyes. Now she is just as headstrong as her father.” He chuckled as he picked at the bread and cheese.

 The woman across from him flicked her knife before pointing it at him, “No more lamenting about nothing. I’m sick of hearing you whine.” Billie grinned before pointing at the food on his plate, “Now eat up. We’re only a few days off the coast, and I doubt Corvo will be too happy with me rocking up in the gardens with you in tow.”

“You mean you haven’t sent anything ahead?” The Outsider smiled at Billie, ducking his head as he scooped some beans onto his spoon and took a small bite of bread and cheese.

“Like the Void I have.” She took a bite of bread and swallowed before kicking her boots off in front of the fire, “I want to see the look on Corvo Attano’s face when I give him the Outsider to babysit.” She grinned as the man before her laughed and moved back to scooping beans into his mouth. Billie moved to find her record player as the two of them finished up and chatted late into the rocky night on the boat.

 Dunwall was high walls and infinite stone. He’d seen it through many other eyes, and watched it fall in many different futures. He’d even watched the stones bleed red with Corvo’s revenge. All of them were possibilities that had never occurred. He walked slowly next to Billie, wondering if his clothing was out of place for the era’s current fashion. They got no extra glances as Billie bought two apricot tartlets and offered him one of the sticky treats to eat as she glanced around the plaza, eyes watching invisible enemies.

“The guards are still looking for you?” He asked as he peeled a corner of the pastry away and chewed it on his back teeth.

Billie shrugged, “Nope, not after Emily’s interventions, but I like to make sure I’m not going to get run down by an angry mob before I go anywhere in this place.” She chewed her own sweet down quickly before looking back at his. The Outsider was coated in pastry crumbs and sticky jam, looking at his hands with disdain at the sticky jam coating the ends of his fingers.

“Here, dumbass.” She laughed and handed him a napkin before pushing off the wall, “Now let’s go and find your little pets and get this over with.” The Outsider nodded and followed, wiping syrup from his fingers and onto the napkin as they headed towards Dunwall tower.

 The gardens were gorgeous. The Outsider watched the ocean from the wall, green eyes curious as he watched the fishing boat bob back and forth in the calm waters. A few street urchins ran around the bottom of the walls pilfering oysters and mussels that had washed up on the beach. Billie smoked her pipe from against the little outbuilding, her eye watching the rose arches as giggling ladies moved past, too and from the gazebo, eyeing up the strangers hidden in the shadows of the garden with curious eyes.

“Billie, you better have a good reason for being here.” Corvo’s gravelly voice drifted past The Outsider’s ears as he fiddled with his hands, nervousness eating away at his insides as the Lord Protector loomed over the both of them.

“Oh, I think you’ll love this reason, Attano.” She purred before pointing the end of her pipe at the man perched on the wall.

“A boy?” He asked with attitude, “What is he? A spy?” Corvo hissed before taking a step closer.

The Outsider turned on his bottom, swinging his legs over the wall with a sigh, “Not a spy. Just an old friend, my dear Corvo.”

 Silence. Corvo looked at him with confusion, brows furrowed low, the silver in his hair glinting in the light as the information set in.

“Fuck me.” He cursed before peering around and crowding the two of them into the outhouse, “What in the Void have you done now, Billie?!” He looked the Outsider in the eyes again, looking at the soft green of his miserable eyes as he scowled.

“Scowling makes you look so old, Corvo.” The Outsider droned as he watched the man before him.

“You need to be quiet while I understand just what in the Void is going on!” Corvo snapped as Billie sighed behind him.

“He’s human. Don’t ask me how or why. But he’s human, just like you or me. Surely you figured out something had gone wrong when your marks faded? Your powers are gone because he isn’t there to siphon them to you.” She blew smoke upwards before pushing the Lord Protector’s shoulder and moving out of the door, “Look after him, Lord Protector. He needs your help, just like you once needed his.” She smiled before closing the door, leaving Corvo with a man who used to be a God.