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asweetprologue · 4 years ago

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me lámh le do lámh - Part VI

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Geralt tried to make an effort after that.

It was a fine line to walk, of course. He wanted to be more vocal—more honest—about how much he cared about Jaskier. His deception about the nature of the ritual made him itch to tell Jaskier other things, to bury the lie under a heap of truths. The idea that Jaskier might not know how highly Geralt regarded him, might think that Geralt didn’t care, was unacceptable. No matter how uncomfortable it made him, he began to try and show Jaskier, in small ways, that he wanted him.

He just couldn’t show too much, couldn’t let himself speak the deeper truths of his heart. A fine line indeed.

Initially, Jaskier acted almost suspicious. They stayed by the ruins for three days while his head recovered. His ankle took longer, and Geralt could admit that he was coddling a bit. He forced Jaskier to sit as he made camp and cooked dinner, took away his notebook when Jaskier had been squinting at it for too long in the dusk light. He needed to rest, Geralt insisted, and he couldn’t do that if he was constantly at work. Jaskier was resistant, as always. Geralt had tended him a few times when he’d come down with a particularly nasty cold, and once when he’d been honest to gods poisoned by a rival bard. Jaskier was always petulant, irritated at being cooped up even when he couldn’t keep down anything thicker than broth. He was no better now, fighting Geralt every step of the way to recovery.

Geralt tried to retaliate with affection. He sat closer to Jaskier in the evenings, telling him the stories he craved, watching afterwards as he mouthed words up at the stars to fit new ballads. He told Jaskier that he enjoyed the tune he was humming, and Jaskier had blinked at him like he’d grown two heads. When they finally decided it was time to move on, Geralt offered to let him ride Roach, and Jaskier stood gaping at him.

“Excuse me?” he spluttered. “Did you just say you want me to ride Roach?”

Geralt sighed through his nose. “Was that not clear enough?”

Jaskier leaned against Roach, one arm out to steady himself on the saddle. His ankle still wouldn’t hold his weight for more than a few moments. “I should throw something silver at you,” Jaskier said, “or douse you in holy water. You’ve been replaced by a spirit.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s tone was a warning.

“A much nicer spirit,” Jaskier said as he began pulling himself up into the saddle. “A very kind spirit who lets his poor injured friend ride his very sweet, docile horse. Nice Roachy. Please don’t throw me off.”

“She won’t buck you,” Geralt snorted, hiding a grin. He took the reins and began leading them back to the main path, heading southwest. Their next destination, according to Triss, would be just outside of the Brokilon Forest. The last of the moonflax supposedly grew in that area, and hopefully the locals would know how to point them in the right direction. They found their way back to the main road easily enough, and it was several long moments before Jaskier spoke.

“I’m really fine, you know,” he said, and when Geralt glanced up at him, he found Jaskier staring resolutely down the road, a small pinch to his brow. “So you can stop being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” Geralt said automatically.

“You are,” Jaskier insisted, looking down at him. His eyes squinted at Geralt as if he were trying to see straight through his skull. “And I know it’s coming from some misplaced guilt that you’re carrying around, thinking that it’s all your fault that I got hurt, as if somehow your witcher powers could stop a floor from collapsing—”

“I’m not—” Geralt started, and then bit back the words. He was guilty, and of course Jaskier could sense it on him. It just wasn’t entirely for the reason Jaskier thought. Instead he said, “It’s not about that.”

Jaskier raised his eyebrows in an expression that meant he thought he was about to win an argument. “Then why are you being so nice to me?” he asked, jerking his chin forward cockily. Like he was already sure of the answer.

The question gave Geralt pause, literally. He stopped for a moment on the road, blinking up at Jaskier. His hair was backlit by the noonday sun, his eyes as brilliantly blue as the cloudless sky above them. It was a shame, Geralt thought, that he’d never before seen Jaskier from this angle. He’d have to let him ride Roach more often. “I realized I wasn’t really, before,” he finally said, haltingly. “I mean—I want to be. Nice. Nicer.” He grimaced.

Jaskier’s expression changed to one of blatant shock, and then smoothed into something softer that Geralt couldn’t identify. It made his breath quicken in his chest, catching in his throat. “You’re a good man, Geralt. You don’t have to perform social niceties for that to be true.”

“I meant to you,” Geralt clarified, shifting uncomfortably. They were stopped in the middle of the road now, and he knew he should probably keep going, because if he kept looking up at Jaskier during this conversation it was going to feel a lot more profound than it needed to be. “I don’t really care about what every farmer or lord I deal with thinks of me.”

“But you care what I think,” Jaskier replied, face once again open with surprise. He’d been making that expression a lot lately, Geralt had noticed. Like Geralt kept doing things that made him reconsider his entire worldview.

“Yes,” Geralt said simply, because it was true. “You’re my friend. I should be nice to you.” He quirked a smile, hoping to break the tension. “That’s what Ciri tells me, at least.”

It had the desired effect; Jaskier tossed his head back and laughed, and Geralt was forced to reconcile himself with the long line of his throat. His mouth went dry at the sight, and he forced himself not to move—not to reach out, not to pull Jaskier off Roach’s back, not to press his lips to the pale skin that peeked out of Jaskier’s loose collar. He stayed stock still, until Jaskier looked down at him with a grin. “Ciri is a smart young woman,” Jaskier said, “and I can’t find fault with her argument. Though truly, don’t make any great effort on my account. I know how difficult I can be to tolerate.”

Jaskier’s mirth made something relax in him, and Geralt found himself smiling back. He unstuck his limbs from the ground and turned to continue on, giving Roach’s reins a gentle tug. Jaskier leaned forward at the sudden movement, and Geralt allowed himself one touch, reaching out to put a hand on Jaskier’s thigh, stabilizing him. Wryly, he said, “You really aren’t.”

Jaskier looked down toward him, and leaning forward as he was, they were suddenly much closer than before, and Jaskier’s face was softened again in surprise and— something else. Geralt felt sure, for one crystalline moment, that Jaskier was going to lean down the last few inches to press their lips together. He held his breath in anticipation, and for a moment Jaskier wavered. And then Roach huffed and canted forward a step, and Geralt’s hand jerked where it was clenched white-knuckled around the reins. He leaned back and away, taking his hand off of Jaskier’s thigh, and felt cold despite the warmth of the day. Jaskier straightened in his seat, and when Geralt looked up at him again his face was blank, squinting up at the sky.

Geralt’s hand burned as he started forward again, leading them down the road towards their destination. He had been right, he thought, to avoid touching Jaskier. Every instance was like flying closer to the sun. He couldn’t survive it if he kept pushing his limits.

They stopped for the night at an inn. It was unusually vacant; they were far enough south now that the last vestiges of winter had faded behind them, and the roads had been plenty busy. On their way into town they’d passed a large band of travelers—merchants, a cobbler, several families—headed in the other direction, so it was likely they drove off any others passing through the area. The innkeep looked tired, a woman who couldn’t be older than Jaskier but had a full head of gray hair. She gave Geralt a shrewd look when they entered, but was quickly swept up in Jaskier’s charm, especially when he exaggerated the limp a bit.

“Afraid there’ll be no one to play for this evening, my boy,” she said, the thick accent of southern Velen making her words sound like chewed barley. “You’ll have to pay for a full night.”

The rate she gave was fair, not marked up for the presence of a witcher as far as Geralt could tell. They were well off on coin after a drowner contract he’d taken before the ruins. They were always particularly active in the spring, having grown hungry under the ice and snow all winter. Geralt had cleared out at least thirty of them from a lake and its nearby stream, gaining no more than a few shallow claw marks but a hefty bag of coin for his efforts. “The rooms are a touch small,” the innkeep said. “You’ll want two; no chance of sharing with this one’s shoulders as they are.” She nodded to Geralt, her gaze passing over his broad chest. He huffed, annoyed.

Jaskier hummed himself, a slight frown passing over his features. “Are you quite sure? We’re accustomed to sharing, and it would save us some coin—”

“We have coin,” Geralt said, slapping the money down on the counter. Jaskier made a noise of protest that Geralt silenced with a look. “I don’t want to risk fucking up your leg by lying on top of it. Two rooms, one night.” It was fine. They were in no danger of running low on funds. There was no need for them to spend a night in discomfort. “It’s this or the road, bard.”

At that Jaskier pouted and dropped the issue.

That night they ate dinner together in the main room of the inn. The food was good, hearty liver sausages with a thin vegetable broth to wash it down, and a loaf of dark oat bread. The ale wasn’t half bad either, even watered down as it was. Once they finished eating, Geralt allowed Jaskier to goad him into a few rounds of Gwent. He never understood why Jaskier wanted to play—Geralt always won handily. Five extra decades of experience and a long tradition of playing for his meals made him the better player by far, and his deck was tournament worthy. Yet Jaskier needled him at least weekly until Geralt gave in and pulled out the cards. Maybe he thought eventually Geralt would let him win. He would continue to be disappointed.

It was, admittedly, hard to concentrate on the game when the light of the fire backlit Jaskier just so, like the halo of some old god. His long fingers worried at the edges of the cards, a terrible tell he couldn’t seem to shake. He always played with the corners of particularly good ones in his hand. Geralt could almost use it to predict the end game totals by this point. Jaskier’s fingernails were a patchwork of color; he’d had them painted sometime while he was staying in Oxenfurt, and the dark burgundy was almost completely chipped away after a few weeks on the road. It was a miracle that the color clung on at all, or that Jaskier had allowed them to remain partially decorated when they lost their perfect shine. Maybe there was a poetic appeal. Something about one’s masks being slowly chipped away, or some such nonsense.

He won the first game. Jaskier begged for best three out of five, and Geralt won the next two games as well. Jaskier finally relented, and the smile on his face wasn’t that of a good natured loser accepting his lot. He said, “I suppose you win again, my dear,” and his eyes were warm as he looked at Geralt.

It was rare that Jaskier could be described as soft in any way. He was boisterous, and excitable, and generally prone to fits of dramatic romanticism or unbridled rage in equal measure. Sometimes he was melancholy, and other times—sometimes when he was very drunk, he was giddy, and he would rope Geralt into unwise activities like they were school children. He was almost never quiet. Even in moments of calm he would be busy moving, strumming his lute or scratching in the margins of his notebooks or singing a new line or two at the stars. But now he was sitting and looking at Geralt over a pile of cards, and he was still. Just looking, chin resting on one hand, as if Geralt’s face held the key to an interesting riddle he was trying hard to solve.

Geralt cleared his throat, feeling unmoored. “Time for bed. Early start tomorrow.”

Like that the spell was broken, and Jaskier rolled his eyes with a groan. “And for what reason? Roach, for one, would deserve the rest. We mustn’t always get up at the first light of dawn, witcher.”

“But we will,” Geralt said, feeling his lips twitch. He turned towards the stairs to hide it, hearing Jaskier’s uneven gait follow after him. He resisted the urge to turn around and offer his arm to assist, knowing that it would only annoy Jaskier and put them in close proximity. Something he was trying his best to avoid.

They parted ways at the doors to their rooms, set next to each other in the hall. They were almost identical, and Geralt wondered if at some point a wall had been constructed down the middle of a room to provide the inn with more to rent out. The result was two cramped spaces, with only enough room for a small bed pushed up against the wall and a trunk across from it. Geralt had deposited his things in the corner before heading back down in search of dinner earlier, and he now set about making sure that his equipment was taken care of. There was a spot on his armor that needed to be reinforced after a drowner had scratched it. The leather was still supple from regular oiling, but he would need a professional to look it over soon. Even so, he was capable of making his own minor repairs until then, backing the fragile spot with spare pieces that he kept for this purpose. The work was grounding in its familiarity. Once he was done he set about sharpening his swords as well. The silver would soon need a new coating; Geralt could see a few places where the darker iron core shone through, where he’d blocked the swipe of a griffin’s talon a month back. A problem for another town.

He could hear Jaskier in the room on the other side of the wall. It was thin enough that there may as well have been no barrier between them whatsoever. He could hear the bard humming to himself, the rustle of cloth as he tossed aside his clothes for the day. No, not tossed—Jaskier was meticulous about his clothes unless roaring drunk or in a haze of academic preoccupation, which tonight he was not. Geralt could almost picture the other man as he carefully folded his doublet over the back of a chair, set his undershirt to hang near the window where it would dry out after the sweat of the day. His pants would be pressed into a neat square and put into his bag alongside his other colorful finery. His hose would be draped near the doublet, his boots neatly set by the door. Dressed down to his braies, he would slip into bed.

The creek of the mattress came from closer to Geralt’s room than he might have expected. The beds must be pushed up against the same wall, mirroring each other.

Geralt slowly and methodically finished his tasks, sliding his swords back into their scabbards and putting them under the bed, within easy reach. With a flick of his wrist, he extinguished the lone candle in the room. He could hear from the noises filtering in from outside that Jaskier’s room had been the one graced with a window. No matter; he could see fine without the added help of the moonlight.

By the time he slipped into the small bed, Jaskier’s breaths had evened out in sleep. His heartbeat was loud through the wall, louder than it usually seemed in their small campsite, with the sounds of the forest drowning it out. The bed really was too small for two, Geralt thought, rolling over to stare at the wall. If they’d shared, they would have had to sleep practically on top of each other. Geralt would have had to wrap himself around Jaskier just to keep him in place. Put his hand over the bard’s heart and felt the rhythm drum out under his fingertips.

He turned around, pressing his back to the wall, listening to the sound of the bard on the other side. His chest ached. The bed felt huge and empty, big enough to swallow him whole. A ridiculous fucking notion. The thing was tiny.

Geralt wondered, really and truly, when it had gotten this bad. When he’d let it get this bad. He pressed his back more firmly against the wall, and fell asleep to the symphony of his own heartbeat matching Jaskier’s one to four.

#geraskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #witcher #the witcher #fic #fanfic #writing #my work #multichapter #me lamh #big bang #geraskierbigbang

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kuredono · 4 years ago

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when the clock strikes midnight | Sukuna x gn!Reader

TW: mentions of being sick, fainting, hands on neck but not strangulation?

“Yuuji!” You scream as your boyfriend finally loses consciousness.

Sukuna isn’t surprised, in fact the damn brat had actually exceeded his expectations and lasted longer than he thought, though it meant that he was in terrible shape. Well, he’ll get healed up later by that girl anyway, so Sukuna just sat back and watched as you defended his vessel from being eaten by the curse. It was a nasty curse, a particularly tenacious vengeful cursed spirit that appeared to learn their moves the more they performed it. You had caught on this pretty quickly, and figured out that it was a new curse only just starting to learn its capabilities, and you were its test dummies. Not that Sukuna cares, but it would mean bad news if it escaped with all the knowledge it has just accumulated. Not that you would let it.

Sukuna’s smirk grew as he saw that switch flick in your head, your gears changing from calculated moves and intelligence to pure strength and instinct, your eyes seeming to glaze over. He loved it when that happened.

Since you entered his vessel’s life, he rarely had to raise a finger because you would always finish the job for him and often stopped his vessel from nearly killing himself. He still took over if and when he felt like it (if Yuuji wasn’t actively suppressing him), and had spoken to you more than a few times. Yuuji would let his guard down when he was tired or sleeping, which was the perfect time for him to talk to you, especially since you stayed up late the majority of nights in a week.

You were interesting. He wanted to know how you were so strong, but you never gave him the answers he wanted. You were usually studying, and he often heard the line ‘if you aren’t here to help me study then please be quiet.’ with a heavy sigh, though you always used polite language when speaking to him. Some nights if he was especially stubborn, he would manage to annoy you enough to have a proper conversation with you, but you were just as stubborn as him when it came to hiding your secrets. You never told your boyfriend about any of your conversations though. Sukuna had considered exposing you to his vessel, but then he probably would never get to speak with you again.

Just as Sukuna had predicted, you dealt with the curse. He almost moved from his throne when you had stumbled over your own feet for crying out loud and nearly lost an arm, and probably your life if you didn’t react as quickly as you did after catching your footing. Sukuna had overheard you throwing up yesterday evening, but he didn’t say anything. Why would he? You insisted it was just exhaustion from doing back to back missions and went to bed, flopping next to Sukuna and promptly going to the land of nod before he could tell you he didn’t care.

Currently you were laying on your back, hand clasping the front of your shirt while gasping for air after finally exorcising the curse. After a minute of catching your breath back, you hauled yourself up, knuckles kneading your temples.

“Ugh... Let’s get you to Ieiri.” You sighed as you looked over at your boyfriend’s body. You shuffled over and ripped up your camisole under your shirt to make bandages to wrap around his head while calling Ijichi requesting a lift to the HQ. You looked beyond exhausted and your cheek was fast blooming into a bruise from when the curse has backhanded you. Ride home confirmed, you let your head hang lowly with a heavy exhale. “I just want to go home.”

After a visit to Ieiri, resulting with the vessel regaining consciousness and fussing over your vast collection of small injuries, nearly 4 hours later, you both arrived home. Sukuna’s vessel was still exhausted and you both had a simple soup which you had the foresight to make last week in anticipation of this week being busy (you somehow could always sense when you were both going to be busy and prepared in advance). Yuuji had wanted to stay up and wait for you to finish your nighttime routine, and he put up a good fight, but lost as fell asleep before getting to wrap you up in his arms.

When Sukuna decided it was safe to switch, he opened his eyes to an empty bedroom, a line of light coming from under the bathroom door where he could hear your strangled sobs and gags. He waited. There was a flush, the sink running, then a gruesome thud. The tap continued running. He waited. You weren't moving. Heaving a sigh, Sukuna rolled out of bed, carpet soft under his feet as he stopped in front of the bathroom. He kicked the door open with his foot, the door stopping as it hit a hand laying on the floor. Stepping in, Sukuna found you laying on the cold tiled floor.

“Human, wake up.” Sukuna nudged your limp body with his foot. Thankfully your eyes fluttered open.

“Huh?” You asked dumbly, watery eyes clouded with sickness, “How did I get here?”

“You passed out. Now get up.”

“I can’t move.”

“Why not?”

“Everything is broken.” You huffed, voice wobbling dangerously, “I feel really wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“I don’t know. Something’s wrong with me,” You stifled a sob, Sukuna rolling his eyes.

“Only now you realise? There are many things wrong with you dumb creature.”

“Sorry...” You rolled your head to the side as your lip quivered, “You’re such an asshole Sukuna.” You hiccuped, tears now falling which only increased Sukuna’s urge to kill you. He hated weak creatures. “Am I dying?”

“No you’re sick. But I might kill you if you don’t stop crying.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to die. Can't stop crying.” You wailed.

“You really have a death wish don’t you?”

Sukuna had enough and straddled your unmoving form, wrapping his hands around your neck, but not squeezing just yet. You looked so small in his hands, and now he was close enough, he could feel heat radiating from your frail body.

You bit your bottom lip and sniffled like a child, eyebrows knitting together. “I’ll beat you first.”

“Oh is that so? Not if I kill you here and now.”

“That’s cheating, I told you I can’t move. What’s the fun of killing something that doesn’t move?”

Sukuna’s brows raised as you pouted, serious in what you said. He whipped his head back in hearty laughter, “Oh you know don’t you?”

“I don’t, I just thought you might spare me if I said that because it seems like something you would say.” You were exceptionally chatty tonight, and refreshingly honest with your reactions, though you still kept the polite language. “Can you get off me, I can't breathe and it hurts. I’ll fight you in earnest if you get off me.”

“Will you now?”

“I can try my best King of Curses.” You smirked, though it looked strange when you had fresh tear tracks on your cheeks which were flushed a deep red. This was certainly amusing.

“Fine then. Show me your true self Y/N L/N!” Sukuna strode back to the bedroom, waiting for you to follow. He watched as you shuffled out the bathroom after him, eyes almost shut as you leaned on the doorframe, cursed energy surrounding you and swelling. “That’s more like it- ?!”

Sukuna rushed forwards as your body slumped forwards, a deadweight in Sukuna’s arms.

“S’kuna, can’t see. Sorry. Feel wrong.” You slurred.

Sukuna easily picked you up and unceremoniously dropped you on your shared bed, “If it’s not one brat dying, it’s the other...”

“Sorry.” You huffed, lifting your hand in front of you and slowly closing your hand into a fist, “Fight me...”

“You can’t even stand up.”

“Can too.”

You began to wiggle your arms under yourself to lift yourself up until Sukuna growled, “Don’t you dare.”

“Sorry.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Sukuna growled.

“Sorry...”

Sukuna pinched your cheeks painfully between his fingers, amused as you squirmed in his grip, whining about your bruised cheek, “Apologise one more time and I will rip your little mouth off.”

“No! Don’ do dat! How else am I s’posed to talk to you o’der’wise?” You cried out.

“Hah? That’s what you’re worried about?”

“I like talkin’ to you a’ night. E’en if you are a jerk sometimes.” Sukuna squeezed your cheeks tightly for a second before releasing you. You grabbed onto his wrist before he could walk away and lightly kissed the back of his hand, “Thank you.”

Sukuna snatched his hand out of your grip, “What do you think you’re doing?” He snarled.

“You said I can’t apologise. And I’m thankful to you.

“Stupid human...”

It was silent for a moment as Sukuna glared at your panting form, sweat rolling down your temples. He wet a towel and slapped it on your face, startling you out your probably delirious thoughts. He then went to get you a glass of water when he heard another heavy thump from the bedroom. He growled to himself as he swore he really would kill you. Just as he anticipated, you were collapsed in a heap next to the bed, one hand gripping the bedside table and the other squeezing your temples like a lemon.

“I should leave you to die seeing as you’re so keen.”

“Where’d you go?” You panted helplessly, unseeing eyes briefly scanning around the room, cursed energy flickering around you, before you gave up and hung your head in defeat.

With a sigh, Sukuna set the glass of water on the bedside table and hoisted you back onto the bed.

“Just lie down and go to sleep, idiot.” He sighed, putting the wet towel back on your forehead. You were really in a terrible state, he couldn’t deny it anymore.

Just as Sukuna moved to go back on his side of the bed, your hand gently caught his wrist.

“Are you going now?”

“I was going to lay down. I’m tired from making sure you don’t die.”

You interlaced your fingers with his, “Oh okay. Thank you.”

“Let me go, I want to lay down.” You wordlessly released his hand, albeit hesitantly. But the moment he crashed next to you on the bed, you clung to his arm and began to trace the marks across his chest.

“What are you doing?”

“Thank you for the towel.” You hummed quietly. A smirk grew on Sukuna’s lips, leaning over and caging you between his arms, closing the space between your faces,

“If you wanted to thank me, you should’ve just-” Sukuna found his lips pressed to the back of your hands as you covered your lips. “Hah..?”

“You’ll get sick.”

“I’m the King of Curses.”

“In a human vessel susceptible to illness.”

Sukuna glared at you but couldn’t for long with you looking up at him with big innocent eyes. Your hands moved from your lips to Sukuna’s face, cupping his cheeks and tracing his marks with your thumbs.

“Thank you.”

Neither of you spoke for a while, Sukuna paralysed in place as you gradually weaved your hands into his hair, gently carding your hands through, watching intensely as your eyes watched him lovingly through the growing sleepy haze.

“Thank y-”

“Shut up and go to sleep.” Sukuna finally moved away and lay down next to you. He had expected you to say something, so looked over, only to find you asleep. You did listen to him. He stretched his arm over to rest the back of his hand on your cheek, freezing as you placed your hand on top.

“Love you.” You murmured into his fingers, rolling over to face him, the wet towel falling onto the pillow.

Sukuna rolled closer to you and put the towel back on your forehead before snaking an arm over your waist and pulling you closer to him. If he was going to be stuck sharing this body, he might as well enjoy the perks it came with.

(If anyone asked though, it was because that brat Itadori would usually sleep holding you in his arms, so if he did the same, Itadori wouldn’t suspect a thing when he switches back and wakes up.)

#jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #itadori #jjk #jjk sukuna #sickfic #fluff #jjk fluff #i don't know how to tag lol #fever whump #fever #yuuji #domestic Sukuna

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littlelovelyspiderling · 5 years ago

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Unmasked

Spider-Man is forced to fight the Sinister Six while he’s sick, which leads to his enemies making unexpected discoveries about their arch nemesis.

Chapter 3

Ow.

That was the first coherent thought that registered in Peter’s brain.

Pain. He was in pain. A lot of it.

It started with the sunlight shining directly in his eyes through the ceiling-high windows. Then there was the sharp ache in his left leg. Then a sting in his shoulder. A cramp in his stomach. A throb in his skull.

And then, everywhere.

Peter was hurting all over. And yet, it was dull, distant, hazy hurt, like he was a ghost floating above his body after it had been run over by a dump truck.

Ugh…

His eyes scrunched into angry lines before fluttering open. His vision was fuzzy, unfocused, and no amount of blinking seemed to fix it. His brain felt like it had been replaced by three tons of bricks.

What…where…

He was…inside someplace. It was bright—way too bright. The ceiling overhead was tall and white. He was lying on a couch that felt like it had never been sat on before.

Am I…dead…?

His muscles were stiff as stone. He feared for a moment he was paralyzed, until he felt his fingers twitch, followed by his toes. It hurt—a lot—but hurt was better than numbness.

Okay. Not paralyzed. Hopefully not dead.

“Mmmgh,” he moaned. Slowly, he slid his hands back and pushed off the couch, lifting himself into a sitting position. “Oh, god…”

His skin was hot and sticky. Every bone, organ, and cell ached. He still felt sick, but now with about seventy extra ailments piled on top of that, which meant he was probably still alive.

Probably.

But how?

The last he remembered, he was getting his ass handed to him by the Sinister Six. For as long as he’d operated as the masked vigilante Spider-Man, he’d never gotten thrashed that badly. How did he get away? Did someone rescue him? Had the Avengers swooped in and saved his dumb, in-over-his-head ass right after he’d blacked out? But how could they have gotten there in time?

And where the hell was he?

Now that he was no longer lying down, the room had started listing a little. Peter reached up to rub his temple and felt something crinkly stuck to his head. He grabbed hold of it and started peeling it off his skin, wincing from the pain. Once he’d torn it free, Peter held the unknown object in front of his eyes. It was a large, bloody bandage.

Huh.

Peter’s eyes dropped to his lap. A thin blanket was draped over his body. When he lifted it away, he cringed.

His torso was a gruesome patchwork of Frankenstein-style stitches and bandages. He counted three sets of sutures on his upper body alone, plus four other cuts and scrapes held together with butterfly tape. His entire chest looked like one gigantic bruise. Plus, the burns—some from scraping across coarse concrete, others from actual fire. Every small movement sent waves of pain rippling across his body.

Yeesh, he thought, poking gingerly at the bandages on his shoulder. Well, someone friendly had to patch me up. But who?

Peter let the blanket slip from his fingers. Grimacing, he swung his legs off the couch and carefully placed his feet on the floor. Sweat slipped off his brow and dripped onto his knee.

“Okay,” he breathed. Peter inhaled sharply, then threw his weight forward, standing upright for an instant. Then he collapsed, gasping. Dizzying agony blossomed in his left leg and thumped like a second heartbeat.

“Shit,” he hissed through his teeth. He glanced back and saw his shin had been fashioned with a makeshift splint: two metal rods and ass-load of packing tape.

Right. Broken leg. The sound of the bone cracking in half reignited in his memories, sending a shudder down his spine.

Peter used the sofa to pull himself off the ground. This time, he placed all his weight on his right foot, using his left only for balance. His body ached and trembled with the effort it took to stand, but he managed to stay on his feet.

Ouch. Ugh. Okay. Yeah. That’s a start. The fuzz in his vision was starting to dissipate, but the fog in his brain clung like fungus. It felt like he’d been inhaling a bunch of that laughing gas stuff his dentist had given him back in the 6th grade when he had to get a tooth pulled. His head was heavy and light at the same time.

The room was a lounge area with stiff furniture and minimal decor. A wilted fern sat in the corner alongside a weird, tall block with a piece of metal sticking out of the top that Peter assumed was some form of modern art. The walls were entirely bare except for a small landscape painting that looked like it belonged in a motel bathroom. There were two other chairs across from the couch, a coffee table, a gray rug, and that was basically it.

Beside the fern, a pair of double doors stood wide and closed. When Peter strained his sensitive ears, muffled voices could be heard conversing in the other room. Curiosity plucked at his chest.

“Um…hello?” he called, voice raspy. He approached the doors, hopping more than walking, gritting his teeth as his injuries burned and throbbed, heat radiating feverishly off his skin. By the time he transversed the room, he was out of breath, lightheaded. He leaned against the wall for a minute and cycled slow gulps of oxygen through his lungs.

Once he’d somewhat recovered, Peter limped in front of the large doors. The voices were louder now, but not loud enough to be recognizable. They sounded mostly male. Peter took a deep breath, reached out his arm, and cracked the door open just a hair to peek inside.

It was a kitchen—that was the first thing he saw. A man stood at the island with his back to the doors. Across from him was a round dining table with a bowl of fruit in the middle.

“How is he?” the man asked, biting into an apple. His voice was definitely familiar.

“Still hasn’t woken up, right?” another responded.

Maybe this is another one of Clint’s safe houses, Peter thought. Or an Avengers’ base I’ve never been to before. Or a secret sitting room in some tragically decorated S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Or—

Seconds before Peter opened his mouth to say hello again, the man eating the apple turned around. When Peter saw his face, his heart jumped out of his chest and splattered at his feet.

“I don’t know,” Herman Shultz said over a mouthful of fruit. “Has he?”

The oxygen around Peter vanished in an instant. It’s Shocker! The guy who broke my leg! W-what the hell? What is he doing here?

“Not from what I’ve heard,” the second voice continued. Another man entered his narrow line of vision, this one lit up like a neon sign, and Peter’s throat seized.

“You’re not being very helpful, Maxwell.”

“I told you not to call me that! I’m Electro!”

Shocker held up his hands. “Right, right, sorry. Electro, then. You’re not being helpful.”

What the shit, what the shit, what the actual, living shi—

“Don’t ask me about these things. Ask the doc.” He lifted his head and grinned. “Look—here he comes now.”

Clank, clank, clank. Heavy, metallic footsteps rang in Peter’s ears and shook the floor beneath him. Horror and disbelief flooded his veins as the eight-limbed scientist stepped in front of him, hardly three feet away, pushing a pair of glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Ask me about what?” Doctor Octopus said.

Peter leapt back from the door, clamping both hands over his mouth.

Oh…my god. It’s them.

“I just wanted to know how he was doing.”

They’re here. They found me. They came to finish the job.

Half of the super villains that had just wrecked his shit were standing in the neighboring room. Hell, maybe all of them were. They’d probably taken whoever had helped him hostage, or perhaps the poor soul was already dead. He wouldn’t stand a chance like this. He didn’t have his suit, his webs, nothing. He’d tried his best to fight them when he was just sick with the stomach bug, and look how well that had turned out for him. If they attacked him now, one solid hit was all it would take to knock him out. Or, if he was being fully honest, kill him.

Peter’s eyes darted frantically around the room. I have to get out of here! He hobbled toward the wall of windows and placed his hands against the glass. It was at least four inches thick; probably bulletproof. But it was his only option. With a shivery grunt, Peter hoisted himself off the floor and crawled toward the ceiling, every step piercing him with flashes of pain.

Okay. Launch off the ceiling, kick through the glass, make a run for it. In his loopy, concussed mind, the plan sounded foolproof. The voices of his enemies were growing louder; Doc Oc’s footsteps were approaching rapidly. It was now or never.

Hanging off the upside-down surface, balancing on his good foot, heart racing, head dizzy and faint, Peter threw himself at the window. He hit the glass with a loud thunk, bouncing off like a bug on a windshield, then crashed on top of the weird modern art piece, shattering the mahogany box into wood chips.

Peter lay sprawled in a heap in the wake of his failure, groaning and dazed. As he forced himself upright, gripping his head in his hand, the doors behind him burst open.

“What the hell?” Doc Oc exclaimed, alarm caked across his expression. When his gaze landed on the young superhero floundering in the splintered remains of his college art project, stunned and disheveled but now awake and wide-eyed, his muscles relaxed slightly. “Spider-Man?”

“Holy shit, he’s awake,” Electro said.

“And he destroyed your favorite sculpture,” Shocker added.

Peter’s eyes dashed between the three men, wild and afraid. He’d been unmasked by his absolute worst enemies—but that seemed the least of his troubles. I’m toast, he thought. Tiny pieces of wood clung to his hair, face, and back. Seeing him conscious for the first time sent a spark of relief through Doc Oc, though he hadn’t expected him to wake up for at least another day; the combination of pain meds he’d given him was pretty strong. When Octavius moved an inch closer to him, Peter scrambled to his feet and backed away, tripping over himself in the process and heavily favoring his right leg.

“Spider-Man—” he began, trying to keep his voice level. Spider-Man picked up a chunk of the destroyed box and chucked it at him.

“S-stay back!” he shouted. His voice was shrill and cracked at the end of the demand. Damn, Otto thought. The evidence of Spider-Man’s youthfulness was clear as day to him now—how had none of them noticed it before? Perhaps they had simply chosen not to notice.

Doc Oc dodged the projectile with ease. “Spider-Man, listen to me—”

Peter made a break for it, gunning for the opposite side of the room. He’d hardly made it two uncoordinated strides before three more figures emerged from a door behind the couch, blocking his escape path: Scorpion, Sandman, and Rhino. He skidded to a stop with a gasp.

“Whoa,” Rhino exclaimed, towering over the half-naked hero. “Would you look at that. Tiny spider is alive.”

Shit! Peter screamed internally. He whipped his gaze in every direction and realized he was surrounded.

“He needs to stop moving,” Otto said, knowing there was no way to accomplish that with words. He raised his tentacles above his head, the pincers snapping hungrily. “Grab him.”

Rhino made the first move, reaching out with his meaty hands to snag the kid by the arm. But Spider-Man ducked and rolled out of the way, moving surprisingly fast despite all of his injuries, though it was obvious the exertion was hurting him. Scorpion and Sandman tried next, lunging for his legs, but Peter hopped right over them and flipped backwards, wincing and staggering once his feet hit the floor and banging into the window.

“You’re going to reopen your wounds,” Octavius warned him. He thrust two tentacles at his torso, but Spider-Man flinched out of their grasp. Otto launched the other two arms at him, and Peter skirted between them, springing on to the wall. The exhaustion and terror in his face were evident. Otto felt bad for scaring him so much, but this was for his own good.

“Spider-Man—please,” he groused. His mechanical arms grabbed and snapped at the air, barely missing the slippery little hero every time. “Just—stay—still!”

Peter wasn’t listening to a word he said. All he knew was that he couldn’t let himself be caught. Every inch of him was screaming in agony. When the tentacles pounced on him all at once, Spider-Man shrunk small and dove underneath them, somersaulting past Doc Oc’s legs and popping up behind him. Peter bolted blindly for the double doors, only to ram straight into Rhino’s giant leg and fall flat on his ass. Three metal prongs clamped around his midsection before he could regather himself, pinning him to the floor.

“Agh!” Peter yelped, tugging uselessly at the claw’s strong teeth. “Let me go!”

Otto lifted Spider-Man off the ground. He continued to strain and squirm, kicking his legs and grappling with the mechanical pincers gripping his waist. The rest of the Sinister Six gathered around the frightened hero, forming a circle with him in the middle. He looked so small against the looming backdrop of super villains. His young face beamed with all the emotions his mask typically concealed—most prominently, fear.

“Spider-Man,” Octavius repeated, holding his hands out tentatively. “Calm down.”

“I’ll pass, thanks!” Peter quipped, betrayed by the tremble in his voice.

“Okay, it’s definitely him,” Electro groaned amusedly.

“I know you’re scared,” Doc Oc continued. “And you have every right to be. But if you don’t stop moving, you’re going to injure yourself further.”

“And if I don’t keep moving, you’re going to injure me further!” He thrashed and twisted valiantly, but it was evident he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. His movements were slowing down, his attempts to escape growing more and more pathetic. Otto waited for him to burn himself out, crossing his arms against his chest. It didn’t take long.

“Are you quite done now?”

Peter hung his head, breathless and shivery, gripping the prongs around his torso less to try to escape and more to hold himself upright. Perhaps his impromptu acrobatics display hadn’t been his smartest idea. All that leaping and flipping and bouncing around had sapped the last whispers of energy from his bones.

“Ugh…room’s…s-spinning,” he murmured. Otto took that as a “yes.” He held Spider-Man closer and frowned at a red spot on his ribs.

“And now look what you’ve done, you idiot. You’ve torn your stitches. I tried to warn you. Half an hour’s worth of sewing, down the drain because of your recklessness.”

“What are you…what…what’s…?” Spider-Man slurred. He was suddenly seeing double of everything. He dropped his gaze to his midriff and watched two blurry lines of blood slip down his side.

“I sutured you up, and you ruined it,” Octavius explained. Peter slowly lifted his head and wrinkled his brow.

“You…” he said, blinking repeatedly. “What?”

“Told you we gave him brain damage,” Rhino whispered. Peter looked at him over his shoulder, then swept his gaze around the circle, making eye contact with every member of the Sinister Six. They saw him. After all this time, his face was finally exposed to his enemies. No disguise, no secret identity, no mask. He felt so naked without it. Not having a shirt or pants on didn’t help either. Strangely, their expressions lacked their typical thirst for spider blood. It dawned on him that over a minute had passed, and none of them had tried to kill him. And so far, they still weren’t trying.

“I’m…confusion,” he stammered. “What—what’s happening right now?”

It was somewhat amusing to see Spider-Man so delirious and out of his element. Doctor Octopus lowered him to the ground but didn’t let go of his torso. Peter was almost glad he didn’t; he doubted he could stand on his own right now.

“I tended to your wounds while you were unconscious,” Octavius said. “It’s not a perfect patch job, but I did the best I could.”

Peter shook his head slowly, his big, brown Bambi eyes wide and puzzled. “I don’t understand.”

“I also gave you some pain killers, which might be making your head a bit fuzzy.”

“But…why?” he scoffed. “You did this to me. You’re the ones who…beat me up. You love beating me up. You—you hate me. You want me dead. You’ve tried to make me dead a million times.” Peter jolted suddenly, a cramp shooting through his broken leg. If he was on painkillers, they were doing a pretty piss-poor job. Everything hurt and was too confusing to comprehend. He closed his eyes and dropped his face into his hands, moaning. “Oh god…I’ve gotta be trapped in some crazy fever dream right now. Or maybe…I’m dead. Am I dead? None of this makes any sense…”

“You’re not dead, Peter,” Otto said, stifling a chuckle.

A shudder rippled through the teenager. He lowered his hands, revealing the colorless face behind them.

“How…how do you know my…?”

Shit, Doc Oc thought. It was a careless slip of the tongue. He had meant to keep his knowledge of Spider-Man’s alter ego a secret so as to not frighten him further, but it looked like the cat was out of the bag.

Peter’s gaze shifted anxiously between the six super villains again. Fresh fear clouded over his glassy eyes, and he went back to squirming against Octavius’ hold.

“Now what are you trying to do?” Otto asked, exasperated.

“G-get the hell out of here,” Peter answered. He yanked at the claw around his torso, grunting with effort. “I know what this is. This is—one of those—hrgg—P-Princess Bride situations, isn’t it?”

The team of villains exchanged bemused glances with each other. “What are you talking about?”

“You know—mmneh—when the bad guys—c-catch Wesley, then heal him—just so the life-sucky torture machine thing is—m-more torturous? That’s what this is, right?” His face was flushing red, and more of his sutures were starting to leach blood.

Scorpion threw up his hands. “What’s the brat trying to say?”

“I think he’s saying we only doctored his wounds so that when we kill him, it’ll be all the more slow and painful,” Electro clarified with a shrug. “Which honestly sounds pretty in character for most of us.”

“See? This guy gets it.” Peter pushed at the prongs with all his might. Even as a half-dead, half-conscious mess, the kid couldn’t stop himself from being a smartass.

“I’m just impressed he made a reference to a movie that came out before he was a concept,” Rhino said. “You know, instead of, like, Finding Nemo?”

Otto could see the strain Spider-Man was putting himself through in his pitiful attempts to escape, so he decided to see what would happen if he succeeded. When Spider-Man shoved at his metal pincers again, he let them snap open. Surprise flashed across Peter’s face as he dropped to the ground and wobbled on his feet, followed by weary triumph.

“Ha! See? T-told you I would…I could…”

He faltered and swayed, staggering backwards. Sandman enlarged his hand and caught him before he could hit the floor. Peter sat limply in his palm, breathing heavy, frail and febrile and injured and exhausted. He looked down at the sand-hand that had stopped him from falling, then back up at the surrounding circle of villains, fear and confusion stinging in the corners of his eyes.

“W-why aren’t you...trying to kill me?”

The room dipped into nervous silence. Spider-Man’s gaze continued to jump between them, searching for answers.

“Why did you treat the wounds you gave me?” he continued weakly. With every word that passed his lips, the shake in his voice increased. “W-what do you want from me? Are you trying to…turn me to the dark side or something?”

Shocker stroked his chin. “Wouldn’t be a bad idea…”

“No,” Sandman answered pointedly, shooting Shocker a sideways glare.

“Then what?” Peter snapped. “What’s going on? Why am I here? Why aren’t I dead yet?” Spider-Man dragged himself back to his feet, grimacing harshly. “T-tell me what you’re planning to do with me, or I’ll—I’ll…”

His scowl dropped suddenly, replaced by a look of panic. His eyes went wide and his jaw clenched.

“Or you’ll what?” Scorpion asked in a mocking tone.

When Peter didn’t answer him, Octavius took a step closer. “Spider-Man? What’s wrong?”

Gradually, the terror in his face gave way to dread. Peter sucked in a gasp and cupped his hand over his mouth.

“I think…I’m gonna puke.”

Otto blinked. “Oh,” he said. That was not the response he was expecting, but it didn’t look like the kid was joking. He lurched forward, stifling a gag, making everyone exclaim and leap back. His pale face hinted a sickly shade of green.

“Oh,” Octavius repeated, animated by a new sense of urgency. He glanced around frantically until he spotted the fern in the corner of the room. He seized it with one of his tentacles, dumped the plant and the soil onto the floor, then slid the empty pot in front of Spider-Man. “Uh, here.”

Peter moaned in defeat before doubling over the pot and retching violently. The Sinister Six turned away in disgust, fighting to keep their own lunches down. There was hardly anything inside him to upchuck in the first place, but his body continued to dry heave for another half-minute. Once the bout passed, Peter was left wheezing and trembling with his head held low. His throat burned and tears were slipping from his eyes faster than he could wipe them away.

“Forgot about the stomach flu,” Electro said, sticking out his tongue. “Blech.”

Peter wanted to ask how the hell they knew he had a stomach bug, among many other things, but he was too fatigued to form words.

Octavius turned back to him squeamishly. The poor kid looked so small, hurt, and sick. It amazed him how quickly his hate for Spider-Man had transformed into a tentative fondness. He felt the need to comfort him somehow, the way adults were supposed to comfort young ones when they weren’t feeling well. But he had no idea how.

Instead, he grabbed a roll of paper towels and a cup of water from the kitchen and placed them both by his side. “Here,” he said awkwardly.

Peter eyed the items and whimpered softly. With miserable, lethargic movements, Peter washed out his mouth and wiped his face, every breath aching in his chest. Shame and fever radiated off him in waves. When he was finished, he just sat there, panting and shivery. Too weak to move.

“I think you ought to lay back down, Spidey,” Sandman said, plucking the hero off the floor between two massive fingers. He returned him to the couch with delicate care, guiding his head to the pillow and draping the blanket over his body.

“No…” Peter mumbled languidly, trying to sit up. When he closed his eyes, he couldn’t get them to open again. “Just…tell me…why…”

Something cold and wet pressed against his forehead, gently pushing him back down. Octavius had grabbed a hand towel from the kitchen and soaked it in ice water. The cool touch against his skin was soothing and unexpectedly soporific. Slowly, his muscles went lax. His tumultuous thoughts faded into sleepy nothingness.

“We will,” Otto lied. “But for now, rest.”

It was almost endearing how quickly Spider-Man drifted back to sleep. Octavius left the towel on his forehead and watched as his breathing eased to a steady rhythm.

“Damn,” Shocker sighed. “Poor kid.”

“We really beat him senseless,” Rhino said.

Electro stood over the slumbering hero with his hands on his hips, tilting his head to the side. “Is it just me, or is Spider-Man, like…kind of adorable?”

Scorpion snorted. “Adorable?”

“You know! In that, like, puppy-dog, dumb little kid kind of way. I mean, look at him! Does no one else think so?”

Sandman shrugged, fighting back a smile. “I mean, maybe. Sorta.” His expression gradually hardened, and he looked at Doc Oc. “So…is what you said before true? Is he really, like, an orphan?”

Otto lowered his gaze. “Not exactly. His parents died when he was a toddler, and he was adopted by his aunt and uncle, who became like parents to him. But then his uncle was killed last year, so now it’s just him and his aunt. He hasn’t had a particularly easy life.”

“And we certainly haven’t helped on that front,” Rhino added.

“It’s insane to me that at his age, this is what he chose to do with his powers. If I’d gotten his abilities when I was fifteen and gone through all that loss, I’d have been robbing every store on 5th Avenue.”

Shocker smirked. “I hate to say it, but...he’s kind of a good kid. Even if he is an obnoxious little dumbass.”

Amidst the conversation, Octavius’ face remained stoic, unreadable. He waited a while before clearing his throat. “I…wanted to let you all know. I, um, spoke to Tombstone this morning.”

All eyes turned to him, alarmed.

“He saw footage of us capturing Spider-Man on the news,” he explained. “He’s offering us two million each in exchange for the kid.”

Rhino’s jaw dropped. “Two million dollars? For each of us?”

“Holy shit,” Sandman breathed.

“What the hell?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“And he just wants the kid?” Shocker exclaimed. "That’s it?”

Otto nodded slowly. “Alive, but yes. That’s all he wants.” He swallowed and looked at the floor. “He’s given us until the end of the week to accept his offer.”

Excitement and dismay swept across everyone’s expressions. Each person waited for someone to speak up, for someone else to say no, we can’t. But it was just too tempting a proposition to dismiss out of hand. They could finally be free to do what they wanted. Free to live as they pleased, villainous or otherwise. Free to punish this city the way it had punished them, if they so choose. Turning over the kid was all it would take. One quick transaction. Hand over their nemesis, their sworn enemy, and it was done. They’d be rich.

“What the hell does he plan to do with him?” Sandman whispered uneasily.

“We don’t have to decide right now,” Doc Oc clarified. “I just wanted to make you aware of the opportunity. We can discuss it more later.”

An air of tentative relief settled over the room. Electro puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms against his chest.

“In that case, what are we going to tell him when he wakes up again? That we want to sell him to some psychopath so we can all be millionaires? That we think he’s cute and want to keep him as a pet?”

Doctor Octopus shook his head. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he said. He turned back to his team. “I’ll keep monitoring him and re-treat the wounds he opened. I think it’s best we always have a pair of eyes on him to prevent another incident involving the destruction of my art pieces.”

The rest of the Sinister Six agreed, scattering throughout the complex, the proposition weighing heavily on all of their minds. Otto put on some classical music and began mopping the fresh blood off Peter’s torso.

#spiderman #spider-man #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman homecoming #Spider-Man: Homecoming #spider-man: far from home #sick fic #marvel #mcu #peter parker #spiderman ffh

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wafflefries13 · 5 years ago

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A Wolf in Wolf’s Clothing

Hey there, it’s your girl, back at it with another story that probably took way too long to finish.

Warnings: Fighting, cursing, threat of violence.

~~~

It was fine. This was fine. Staying in a small cabin in the middle of the woods, getting back to nature, away from the city, away from those yakuza who were tracking you down because your dad had skipped out on the massive amounts of gambiling debt he had, and seriously, Dad, you knew he had a problem, not that he would ever listen to you, but did he really have to go and play mahjong, freaking mahjong, with some super sketchy people and really think everything was just going to be fine that he was going to be okay when he already had a massive pile of debt from that pyramid scheme that you told him was a pyramid scheme or the loss from that horse race last month, and seriously, Dad, this is why mom left-!

But it was fine. You were fine.

The cabin was small, a one room structure that gave you flashbacks to ‘Little House on the Prairie.’ Thankfully, the owners had attached the outhouse to the actual house a few years back, installing a slim standing shower. Electricity came from either solar power or a gas generator hook-up out back, but there was no way you would ever get an internet connection all the way out here. But it had a fireplace! That was pretty cool, right?

You weren’t exactly sure how long you’d be out here. The detective from vice told you to stay off the grid as much as possible, that they’d get in touch with you, not the other way around. The police officer had dropped you off about an hour ago after bumping over an unpaved road tangled by tree roots and overgrown underbrush. You would never have been able to find this place by yourself. But you supposed that that was the whole point.

You’d spent your first few hours there getting the cabin to an actual livable condition. Vice had told you that this place wasn’t used a lot, and you could immediately see it. Every surface was coated in a thick layer of dust. The windows were covered in who knows how many years of grime. Cobwebs littered with tiny insect carcases huddled in every corner and crevice. You were lucky you hadn’t found a racoon nest in the chimney flue.

Finally, as the sun set, your muscles aching from the work, you decided that your temporary home was livable enough. You summoned all your knowledge from watching ‘Man vs Wild’ and lit a fire. You heated up a can of chicken noodle soup on the gas stove. The cabin didn’t have a bed, so you stacked several thick quilts stored in a cupboard, rolling out your sleeping bag on top.

You sat on your makeshift bed, back pressed against the wall, slurping your soup. Outside the window, you watched as the light slowly faded away. Wow, you didn’t realize how dark it could really get out here. You put way too much stock in the light you could get from the moon and stars, apparently. There was no accounting for the noise, though. It sounded like a million different insects were screaming from the woods outside. You thought cricket noises were supposed to be comforting, like listening to the ocean to try and fall asleep. But this just made you itch and wish for another can of bug spray. Man, vice really sent you out here with nothing, didn’t they?

Sitting back and contemplating your possible execution via yakuza boss in the near future, it took you a while before you recognized the change. Every noise outside your four walls had fallen silent. The popping of logs in the fireplace was tantamount to gun fire.

Slowly, you set down your half-finished can of soup, dragging a wooden bat out that you had snagged before the vice police shoved you in the car to bring you here. Staying as low to the floor as possible, you crawled to the front window. You pressed your back against the wall, like you had seen spies do in movies, and slowly lifted one corner of the thick curtains. You tried to crane your head to look out, but it hurt more than you thought it would and your visibility was cut by way more than half.

Why hadn’t vice at least given you a gun or something?

Taking a deep breath, you stood, holding the bat in front of you like a sword. Before you could convince yourself that this was a bad idea (too late) you burst open the front door, ready to swing at whatever you saw first.

Noise exploded back into existence as soon as you stepped into the small clearing around the cabin. Panting heavily and breaking out in a cold sweat from the adrenaline, you whipped your head back and forth to look for intruders. Left? Clear. Right? Clear. Front? Clear. Behind-?! Wait, that was the cabin, you were just there.

You felt all the energy leave you at once. The bat suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. You slumped forward, bracing your head on the backs of your hands settled on the pommel of the bat.

You heard something from the other side of the cabin. A low groan, the result of footsteps. Gulping hard, you raised the bat again, silently making your way to the corner of the house. You whipped around the corner.

A giant furry shape was slumped in a pile in front of you. It let out a low whine. You could see the powerful muscles under its thick fur coat ripple and stretch as the thing tried to get comfortable. Sensing your presents, it reared its large head, pinning you down with ruby red eyes.

A wolf. There was a wolf in front of you. You had always assumed wolves would sort of look like giant dogs, but this close you could see how different they really were. This thing was huge, first of all. Its head would come up to your shoulder when it stood. It also had long thin legs, built for fast running and careening over obstacles. The wolf snared at you, its lips pulling back as a deep growl emanate from its throat. You could almost swear it was glaring at you.

Its threat was cut short, however, by a pained yip. As it tried to stand, it faltered and fell over, back into a furry heap. You could see a patch of mismatched fur coating its back leg up along its haunch. The fur was matted, dark with something wet.

You dropped the bat, holding your hands in front of you in what you hoped was a non-threatening pose. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” You said softly. “I’m just gonna… I’ll be right back.” You ducked back around the corner, heading into the cabin. You threw open the cabinet doors, rummaging for a first aid kit you could have sworn you saw somewhere while cleaning. You found the small white box, hoping that whatever was inside was as suitable for giant wolves as it was for people.

You headed back out. Going around the cabin, you saw the wolf trying to stand and limp away again. He didn’t make it two steps before collapsing. Instead of a pained noise, this time he just left out a frustrated humph. You giggled despite yourself. The wolf’s head reared back around, locking eyes with you again. It growled at you.

“I don’t think you look as menacing as you think you do right now,” You said. You tried to talk calmly in a low voice. That’s what you were supposed to do with frightened and injured animals, right? Well, you also were supposed to leave them alone and call animal control or something, but you didn’t really have the option of doing that right now. And you didn’t think you could sleep, much less live with yourself, if you knowingly just let this wolf suffer right outside your door.

You took another step closer. The wolf snapped his jaws at you but didn’t move from his heap. “Hey, easy, big guy. I just want to help.” You held up the first aid kit, as if that was supposed to mean anything to a wild animal. The wolf glared at you, but didn’t make any movement as you took another cautious step forward. As you knelt down beside his injured back leg, he huffed again, turning his head away and resting it on his massive paws, resigned to accept you unasked for help. This close up, you could see his fur was an unusual blond. It reminded you of wheat fields just before harvest (not that you had ever seen that, being such a city kid, but pictures and imagination counted for something, right?).

You opened the kit and pulled on a pair of gloves. Parting his fur, you hissed in sympathy at his wound. There was a gash slicing through his entire haunch, more wide than it was deep, but still bleeding profusely. You could see smaller cuts and bite marks, punchers in his flesh, littering the rest of his leg and up his back. Some of these wounds had already half-healed, but had reopened again, oozing and clotted.

You threaded a hand comfortingly through his fur, speaking softly as you dabbed an antiseptic wipe along the largest gash. The wolf winced and barked at you in annoyance at the sting, but after a glare (you didn’t even know wolves could glare with such intensity before this), he resigned himself and plopped his head back down. There were some butterfly sutures that you hoped would stick on with his fur. You pushed them down, pulling the edges so the flesh closed. You tried your best to clean the other injuries, but you didn’t have a lot of butterfly sutures, and bandaids certainly weren’t going to stay down.

As you were contemplating this, a chorus of howls erupted from the woods around you. The blond wolf sprung into action immediately, jumping up and circling himself around you. You probably would have thought that was amazing or cute or something if a sense of panic hadn’t seized you. The wolf was still limping, trying to keep his back leg off the ground. His head jerked from side to side, ears constantly twitching. Whatever was out there, you could only imagine that it was closing in, and it was out for blood.

“Oh, this is going to be a bad idea,” You said to yourself. The wolf cocked his head at you. “But, hey, I’m not making any good choices tonight, I guess. Come on.” You picked up your abandoned bat, standing to guard the wolf from the tree line. You started backing up, genteling nudging the wolf with your hip in the direction of the cabin door. He seemed to get your meaning, limping along, but trying to maintain his sense of canine bravado by making threatening growls and fangs bared.

Backing your way into the cabin, you quickly locked and barred the door. You had no idea if conventional locks would keep out blood-thirsty wolves, but you figured it wouldn’t do much against determined yakuza members either, so maybe you should just cut your losses.

You heard a loud slurping and turned around. The blond wolf had his muzzle buried in your reheated soup, lapping it up and spilling everything that didn’t immediately make it into his mouth.

“Hey!” You chastised. You could have sworn he rolled his eyes at you. Could wolves do that? Like, physically? His long tongue licked his chops when he was done. He took a few stumbling steps then collapsed by the fire.

“Alright,” You said to yourself. “I guess this is happening, huh?” You could have sworn the wolf made a sound of agreement.

~~~

You woke up to the sound of bird song and a mouth full of fur.

Sputtering, you pieced together the events of last night in your head. The wolf had you pinned against the wall of your makeshift bed, his back pressed against your stomach and chest. You had a fleeting thought that he was putting himself between you and any danger that might break in. You had heard stories of mother wolves protecting human babies, maybe this was something like that? Or were you thinking of The Jungle Book? The founding of Rome? Whatever.

Either way, it made you smile a bit, petting his fur. Wow, you had no idea wolf fur was so thick! Your hand just seemed to drop forever through his soft coat. Your action was enough to rouse the wolf from his sleep just a bit. He cast a tired glance over his shoulder at you. You could have sworn you could read his expression. “Really? You’re waking me up for this?”

“Hey there, sunshine,” You said. “I should probably take another look at that leg, huh?”

The wolf huffed, rolling over. You thought for a second he was giving you room to get up, but when you started to move he rolled back over, landing heavily across you and pinning you down. “That’s, uh, that’s a no then, huh?” The wolf just shuffled to a more comfortable position (on top of you) and closed his eyes.

You sighed, reaching up and rubbing the fur between his ears. “This is my life now, huh?”

He blinked open his eyes, staring right into yours. They were a deep red, almost like uncut garnets. You had no idea animals could have eyes like that. Not just that, but something about them looked almost too… human to you. The proportion of iris to whites just sort of off from what you would expect from your average dog. Before you could put your finger on it, the wolf closed his eyes and rested his head again.

His heat radiated through you like a miniature sun. You pet through his fur, deciding to narrate your thoughts out loud. You told him about how you came to be in these woods, in this cabin, your struggles with dealing with your father's gambeling addiction for so many years, the fall festival you had gone to last year, how you wanted to start hiking now that you were trapped out here, this song you couldn’t remember the words to, summarizing the plot from some book you had to read for English class.

After the sun had already started to rise high in the sky, the wolf (you really needed a name for him, huh?) slinked off of you. You let out an exaggerated breath, thumbing your chest a few times. He flicked his tail at you.

You opened up the cooler you brought with you. Take two slices for yourself, you handed the wolf the rest of the sliced turkey you had bought for sandwiches. He ate the entire pack in one massive bite, looking at you expectantly for more. Huffing in mock annoyance, you tossed him the other two slices. He caught them in the air, flicking his tongue to get the juice from his canine maw.

He tested his weight on his back leg. You could tell it still hurt him, but he still tried to walk with his other three legs. He stretched out, arching his back. “Oooh, big stretch!” You said. There was that glare again.

He limped over to the door, scratching it. You opened it for him, assuming he had to do his doggy business or something (wait, was he trained to go outside? That would explain some things). But when you tried to close the door again, he barked at you. He scratched the door frame until you followed him outside. He would walk several feet ahead then sit, looking over at you and barking. You went back inside and tugged on your hiking shoes, spraying yourself down with a healthy dose of bug spray.

The wolf was still pretty unsteady on his feet. He would stumble occasionally, but when you would put out a hand to help him, he would snap back at you. Whatever the case, he at least seemed to know where he was going. Even in his injured state, he could keep a good distance ahead of you.

You heard water rushing as the wolf dropped out of sight. Thinking he might have fallen, you rushed to where you last saw him. The trees broke away, revealing a rippling river with cool pools stretching through the forest. You took in the beautiful scenery, the ice blue water cascading down tiny waterfalls, when sudden movement caught your eye. You focused where you saw it and gasped. A salmon jumped from the water, swimming upstream. That one was joined by another, then two more, until the whole river seemed to burst with fish.

You laughed in shock and amusement at the sight, but were cut off short by something cold and slimy hitting your face. You sputtered against it, swiping it away from you. Looking down, you saw your assailant was flopping on the sandy river bank. A giant salmon, mouth gapping and scales shimmering in the sunlight.

You heard a huff that you could have sworn sounded amused. Looking up, you saw the wolf at the edge of the bank, dipping his paw in the water. He looked deeply into the river, still as a rock, before striking all at once and bringing his paw up. He batted another fish out of the water. You put your hands up, catching it in a slimy, uncertain grip. The fish thrashed around and you ended up dropping him on his friend.

“You know all the best places, huh?” You said. The wolf shook water off of his fur and went back to focusing on the river. “I’m going to run back and get the cooler! We’ll be able to carry a lot more that way!” You weren’t sure why you were telling a wolf this, as if he could understand you, but it felt right somehow.

You carefully followed your footsteps back to the cabin, breaking a twig or making a mark on a tree as you went to make a path. Back at the cabin, you quickly pulled the food you had brought with you out of the cooler, shoving it in the mini-fridge. You didn’t have an ice maker in the cabin, so you hoped the already half-thawed cold packs would work. Almost as an afterthought, you grabbed the first aid kit, tossing it in the cooler. Luging the cooler over your shoulder, you followed your improvised markers back to the river.

You set the bulky cooler down heavily on the bank, looking up with a wide grin for your new companion. Scanning the banks and treeline, your face gradually fell as your search turned fruitless. Your new wolf buddy was nowhere to be seen.

At first, you felt sad that he had just up and left, then scared for his injury. He was still having trouble walking. What if whatever was prowling around your cabin last night came back and tried to take a bite of him?

“Wolf?” You called out, almost immediately feeling like an idiot for doing so. You knew you should have named him. Although, it wasn’t like he was trained to respond to your call. You had to remind yourself that this was a wild animal and not a trained dog from the pound, despite his reluctant friendliness. “Wolf? Where’d you go, big guy? Hello?”

“If you keep yelling like that, a whole pack is going to come and tear you apart.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the very human response. Bracing your hands on your knees, you looked down the drop away from the bank to the river. There was a tiny beach there. Leaving against the sandy drop was a boy, head tilted back and face bathed in the sunlight. Despite his relaxed body posture, one leg spread out in front of him, the other bent to his chest, arms loosely crossed, he had an annoyed if not pained expression across his face. His hair was the color of fresh cut wheat, but as spiky as a porcupine. Lolling his head in your direction, he opened his eyes under furrowed brows. You thought it was a trick of the light, but you could swear they were a deep red. ‘Like garnets…’ You thought, memory jumping back to your missing wolf friend.

“Uh, sorry,” You said. “I was just looking for-”

And then your heart stopped as you suddenly remembered why you were out in the middle of the woods. The whole reason you had come here, why the police had dragged you away from your everyday life for your own protection.

You tripped over your own feet flinging yourself backwards. You landed heavy on your butt. Scrambling back, your head whipped from side to side looking for something to defend yourself with. Damn it! You should have grabbed your bat when you got the cooler!

“Hey!” He yelled up at you. “You going to keep spazzing out or give me a hand here?”

“Depends,” You said. “What are you doing out here? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“The hell do you think I’m doing? I work out here.” You saw his hand come up and grip the edge of the bank. He pulled himself up, but winced in pain. Bracing his arms against the bank, he said, “I’m a forest ranger, kind of. Tag some of the animals, make sure no one’s starting forest fires, keep poachers away, that sort of thing. I kind of got banged up here, though, can’t put a lot of weight on my ankle.” He rolled his eyes, leaving the statement hanging in the air for your response.

“Oh!” Of course, you thought to yourself, you had no real reason to trust what he was saying. He didn’t look like a ranger, dressed in a black muscle shirt and dark green cargo pants. But you could tell he was having trouble standing. But then, that could be an act too…

“Sure,” You finally decided. “Hang on.” You looked through the brush until you found a fallen tree branch. You lugged it over, dropping half down the bank and keeping it ancored under your foot. You held out your hand to him. He grasped just beyond your wrist, pulling up and using the branch and a foothold to push himself up. Once he was up on the upper bank, he tried to take a step. You could immediately see his ankle give out, crumbling like wet paper. He fell to his knees with an annoyed sound, catching himself on his palms.

“You okay?” You said, retrieving the branch and not so subtly holding it in front of you.

“Yeah, fine. Whatever.” He tried to brush you off. You could see his entire calf was wrapped in bandages. It looked like some wound had reopened and was bleeding through.

“What happened?” You ask, nodding to his leg.

He looked down, growling at the red soaking through the bandages. “I have to get pretty close to some animals for my job. Checking tags or making sure they’re not hurting themselves. I thought I’d tranquilized a bear, but I guess he wasn’t all the way under.”

“A bear?! You fought a bear?”

He waved a hand at you. “I didn’t ‘fight a bear.’ I was just trying to get a blood sample and must have spooked him. He took a swipe at me. I’ll be fine.”

“That sure doesn’t look fine.” You pointed to his bandage.

He clicked his tongue. “Damn it.”

You rung your hands around the branch. “I have a first aid kit. I’m pretty good at it. I could take a look if you want.”

He practically snarled at you, trying to stand up again. “I don’t need some-” As he tried to put weight on his ankle, he let out a choked yelp, cutting into that tough guy persona he obviously was trying very hard to portray. He lost his balance, wheeling his arms. You dropped your branch, lunging forward just as he fell. You caught him under his arms, throwing your balance off. You both fell, you landing on your back. You groaned, rubbing the back of your head. Opening your eyes, you squeaked seeing his face so close to yours, bright red eyes locked on to yours. Your mouth suddenly went dry and your face went hot. He was practically pinning you down.

His face burst into a blush as he threw himself off of you. He crossed his arms stubbornly. Looking away, he said, “Yeah, fine. Maybe I need a new bandage.”

“C-cool! Yeah! Great!” Well, at least you were pretty sure he wasn’t here to kill you. That would have been a pretty good opportunity. Unless he wanted to slay you with embarrassment, which seemed like a possibility.

You silently checked out his ankle, spraying it out with antibacterial and put a fresh bandage on it. At this rate, you were going to run out of medical supplies before the week was over.

“Hey,” You said in an effort to break the tension. You noticed the tips of his ears were still a blushed red. “I don’t suppose you know anything about the wolves around here?”

His eyes snapped back to you, suddenly suspicious. “There haven’t been wild wolves in this area for over a hundred years.”

You blinked. “Wait, no, that can’t be. There was a wolf at my cabin last night. It sounded like he was being attacked by another pack or something.”

He looked at you hard. “There haven’t been wolves here in a long time. If you think you saw one, you didn’t.”

You huffed. “I’m pretty sure I know what I saw, not to mention felt. He spent the night in my cabin.”

“What kind of idiot lets a wolf spend the night in their cabin with them?”

“Ha! So you admit it could have been a wolf!”

“I didn’t say that!”

You smiled, leaning back on your hands and looking out over the river. “It was fine though. He seemed trained or something. A little prickly, but he was hurt so I didn’t mind.” You heard him mutter something that sounded like “not prickly.” You continued, “He disappeared this morning, though. Around here. I’m kinda disappointed. It’s kind of lonely out here. But hey! I guess I have a new friend now!” You good naturally punched his shoulder. He winced and you just now noticed the fading bruise. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Sure you are. And who said we were friends, anyway? You don’t even know my name.”

Putting on your most welcoming smile (and trying not to grimace at his tone), you held out your hand. “(Y/N) (L/N), trapped out in the middle of nowhere for the foreseeable future for reasons I cannot currently disclose. Very nice to meet you.”

He looked from your hand to your face a few times. He looked like he was turning something over in his head. Flexing his hand, he lifted it up and gripped yours strongly. You could feel the heat radiating from it, like he was a living space heater. “Bakugo. And that’s all you’re getting.”

You fake pouted. “We will be friends, mark my words.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “What were you doing out here anyway?”

“I told you, I cannot currently discloses that information.”

He huffed a laugh. “What, are you a spy or something? Lost princess?”

If only, you thought. “Something like that.”

“Hmm. You don’t have a fishing rod.”

“Uh, yeah. I was kind of counting on my wolf friend to help me out. He did this thing where he just sort of whacked them out of the water.” You mimicked the motion in the air.

“For the last time, there aren’t any wolves around here. Just drop it.”

“Fine, fine. There wasn’t a wolf even though there definitely was. And I don’t know what I’ll do, exactly. I suppose I can survive on canned soup, saltines, and beans for however long I’m stuck out here.”

“That’s disgusting.” He leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head and looking up at the clouds. “Alright, here’s what you do. You at least have a knife, right? Good. I’m going to teach you how to make a fish weir.”

For the next hour, Bakugo talked you through cutting reeds and shaping them into a W-shaped trap in the river. According to Bakugo, the V-like entrance made it easy for fish to get in, while the indented center made it hard or impossible to get out. After some (a lot) of trial and error, you successfully trapped a huge salmon.

“I got one!” You yelled in excitement. “I got it!”

“Good for you,” Bakugo said. “Now take your knife and stab it.”

“Yeah, what?”

“Right behind the gills.”

“Uh, right, okay.” For a few blissful seconds there, you forgot you had to kill a fish to be able to eat it. Using another reed you cut for an unsuccessful weir, you pinned the fish to the side. Wincing, you stabbed the fish’s gills, trying to ignore how it flopped around the trap. Spearing it on your knife, you hoisted it out of the water, flicking it onto the bank.

“Oh, gross, gross, gross, gross, gross!” You flapped your hands. Bakugo laughed at your distress. You tried to ignore how much you liked the sound. “Oh, shut up. It’s my first time.”

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Your first time, huh? Glad I could walk you through it.”

You felt yourself flush. “Oh my god!” Without thinking too much about it, you speared another fish in the trap, using your knife to fling it. The half alive fish landed smack on his chest, flopping around in a mess of falling scales and fish slime.

He sputtered, slapping it away. He snarled, “Hey!”

You laughed, hands resting on your thighs. “What? Now we both have dinner.”

Catching a few more and storing them in your cooler, Bakugo taught you how to make a box-like campfire. Creating a grill with your reeds, you roasted some of the fish over the fire, picking it off with your fingers. You both sat by the river and watched the sun set.

Not wanting your time together to end, but becoming too aware of the late hour, you said, “I should probably get back to the cabin. Not sure I could find it in the dark.”

Bakugo shrugged. He struggled to stand up, waving you off when you tried to help him. Taking a few separate steps, he gripped a low hanging branch from a tree. With a thunderous crack, he ripped the branch off. Pulling off a few twigs, he held it under his arm as a makeshift crutch.

“Hey,” He said, not looking at you. It sounded like he was deliberating something. “If you ever need help, I’m usually at the fire watchtower. See? You can see the roof from here. It’s about two miles that way.” He pointed over the tree line. You could just make out the top of a brown corrugated roof.

“Sure you don’t want to take any of these back?” You asked, motioning to the cooler of fish.

“Naw. You need all the help you can get.”

“Hey!” As he wandered off, you yelled to him, “Watch out for the wolves!”

“There aren’t any wolves!”

“You’ll believe me eventually!”

~~~

You methodically tapped your fingers against the mug you held, letting the heat of your hot chocolate seep into your fingers. You were sitting in a folding chair just outside the cabin, bat leaning against the chair’s arm. You were snuggled up in a heavy blanket, watching the fireflies dance through the heavy trees, trying to remember consolations.

But really, if you were being honest with yourself, you were waiting for the wolf.

It didn’t matter if Bakugo said he wasn’t real. You knew what you saw. Maybe he had escaped from some conservation area or zoo? And he seemed used to people, so maybe he was trained? But that didn’t explain the howls you heard as you tended to the wolf’s wounds. It definitely sounded like some rival pack was hunting him down.

It broke your heart to think of him all alone and injured out there.

As if called by your thoughts, a round of howling rose from the depths of the forest. You jumped to your feet. The hot chocolate sloshed from your mug, burning your hand. Frantically waving your hand to ease the burn, you didn’t notice the heavy foot falls until it was too late. You turned as the thumping was right behind you.

It felt like you were hit by a train. Your breath left you with a ‘woomp.’ Falling hard, your arms came up to wrap around what had just barrelled into you, catching it like a football. You would like to say that you were more surprised than you actually were when your fingers dug into thick fur and bursts of dog breath panted in your face.

“Hey there, Golden Boy,” You said, rubbing between his ears. You had decided on his name, Golden Boy, while trying to convince Bakugo of his existence. It seemed apt given his brilliant coat. Your wolf friend yipped at you. Scrambling off, he crouched down in an attack position, growling at the trees. “Come on, bud.” You juggled your folding chair, blanket, bat, and (now empty) mug, pushing open the cabin door with your hip. The wolf backed into the cabin, eyes never leaving the tree line, lips curled into a snarl, until you closed and locked the door again.

You took out a bowl from the cabinets. Opening a bottle of water, you filled up the bowl, placing it near the tired wolf. Crawling over on his stomach, he didn’t even lift his head as he started to lap at the water.

“Yikes,” You said. “Rough night, huh?” You ran a hand along his back. He managed a half-hearted glare at you before deciding it wasn’t worth it and going back to his water.

“So, you’re a wolf, right?” He ignored you, which is what you expected. But you always had a habit of talking to animals like they could talk back. “Because I met a guy today, yeah, I’m not the only person stranded out here, can you imagine, and he said there aren’t any wolves in this area. I mean, I guess you could just be a really big dog. You ever seen an Irish wolfhound? Probably taller than me. Or a Caucasian shepherd dog? I hear they used to breed those in Russia to hunt bears.

“I guess it’s kind of nice to have someone else around. Not that you’re not great company.” Could wolves roll their eyes? “Just… It can get kind of scary out here, you know? Well, probably not, you live in the woods and all. No offence and all, but this isn’t really my idea of a vacation.”

You leaned against the wall, sitting cross-legged on your bed pallet. Golden Boy shuffled to you, resting his massive head in your lap while you checked his wound and changed the dressing. It seemed to be healing rapidly, way faster than you would have expected.

“The truth is,” You continued. “I’m actually in hiding. There are some people who, uh, I’m pretty sure they want me dead. Maybe not me specifically. My dad made some bad choices, hey, that can be the title of my autobiography, and now I’m paying for it.”

You felt your throat tighten up as a wave of emotion snuck up and crashed over you. You hiccuped, pressing your lips together as you tried not to cry in front of your canine audience. He looked up at you, wide, deep red eyes. Your eyes burned as tears threatened to spill out.

Without warning, Golden Boy jerked his head up, wiping his long, wet tongue across your cheek, ineffectively wiping away your tears. You sputtered at the dog drool, breaking out into a giggle fit as he kept licking your face.

“Okay, okay, I get it, stop already! I have a big, strong protector here to take care of me, huh?” He buried his head in your lap again. You rubbed his ear between your fingers. “And I’ll take care of you, too. You know that, right? We’re in this together.”

~~~

“Bakugo! I’ve come to pester you!”

The next day, you awoke to find your wolf friend missing. You weren’t exactly sure how he managed to get out of the cabin since all the doors and windows were still securely closed, but you’d seen videos of pets doing weirder things. Maybe you should have named him Houdini. After cleaning up the cabin a little and finding a more stable storage space for the salmon you caught yesterday, a deep loneliness started gnawing at you. Stowing a tin of shortbread cookies under your arm, you set out in the direction of the river to find the watchtower Bakugo had pointed out to you yesterday.

You finally found it about midday, only being scared to death at the possibility of getting hopelessly lost twice. You climbed up the high stairs to the box structure on top. The sides were made up of mesh screens, covered from the inside by thick curtains, you guessed so that he could keep an eye out for possible forest fires.

“Hello? I brought an offering!”

You heard some grumbling and banging around from inside the box. You heard a heavy lock slide open as the door cracked open. Bakugo’s ruby eyes met yours and you felt a pang of worry for your Golden Boy.

“An offering, huh?” Smiling, you held up the tin. “Fine. I guess that’s a good enough reason to bug me.”

You practically skipped inside. Bakugo pulled at the curtains causing them to zip up and spin on their rollers. The room was cluttered, which you mostly expected from going over to your bachelor friend’s houses. What you didn’t expect was exactly how it was cluttered. It wasn’t like clothes had been dropped on the floor and forgotten, a pile of dirty dishes and overflowing trash. The reality was more chaotic, like someone had turned over the place robbing it. Papers about the geography, flora, and fauna of the forest were strewn on every flat surface. The cot bed was stripped bare, looking like it hadn’t been slept in in days. There was a tall stack of books stacked on a table next to a wooden folding chair half pushed under a desk. A cork board was above the desk, red string connecting bits of cut-out newspaper articles, Polaroid photos, sticky notes with chicken-scratch handwriting, and marked-up calandras.

Bakugo half-heartedly picked up a shirt from the ground. “Wasn’t really expecting company.”

You shrugged. “You a big reader?”

You set the cookie tin down, picking up one of the books. Its pages were marked with various colored tabs. Flipping through the pages, you saw blocks of text that had been highlighted. The book fell open to reveal a copy of a wood-cut illustration of a large man with a wolf head. His snout was pointed to the sky, jaw open in mid-howl. In his meaty hands, tipped with razor sharp claws, he cradled a woman in some medieval German peasant dress. Her head was fallen back, eyes rolled back in her head, a blood stain spreading across her neck and chest. In the background, a mass of angry villagers marched forward, armed with the standard torches and pitchforks. A bone white full moon hung overhead.

Bakugo snapped the book closed in your hands. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to snoop through people's stuff?”

“I wasn’t snooping,” You said defensively. “And just so you know, no, they didn’t. My folks weren’t exactly the etiquette type.”

“Clearly.”

“Hey!”

He smirked at you, prying open the cookie tin and munching on a piece of shortbread. You sat down in the folding chair, looking down dubiously when it creaked under you.

“So, how does a guy get a gig hanging out in the middle of the woods, anyway?”

“How do you?”

You pressed your lips, trying not to let Bakugo feel the sudden drop in your mood. You blinded him with a smile. “Maybe I just really like bird-watching.”

“Sure. Bird-watching.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat. Standing, you turned away and looked out the messy windows, taking in the acres upon acres of unspoiled wilderness. “Wow, you can see for forever up here.” Squinting, you saw the dip in trees around your cabin, the red roof just barely visible. “Hey, that’s my place!” You looked over your shoulder at him and winked. “You’re not spying on me, are you?”

He popped in another cookie, wolfing it down in one bite. “You wish.”

You hummed, looking back out over the trees. “Can you..” You trailed off. “Can you see if people come into the woods?”

He came over to stand next to you, hiding the tin in the crook of his arm. “I don’t get records of who comes in or out, if that’s what you mean. That’s for the rangers at the front gates. I see campfires, sometimes. Need to make sure they don’t get out of control.”

“And if someone, or, like, a group, maybe, was trying to sneak in? Like, not going through the front gates so there was no record of them being here?”

He paused mid-bite and looked at you sideways. “You’re hiding.”

You mock-laughed. “What? No, no. Of course I’m not hiding. Why would I be hiding?”

“(Y/N),” He cut you off. He moved his head so you were forced to look directly into his ruby-red eyes.

You crossed your arms and looked away. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

He leaned back. “That’s okay. But, hey, we can look out for each other, yeah?” He curled his biceps, flexing his muscles. “Besides, you got a big, strong protector here, don’t ya? You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Big, strong protector, huh?” You echoed.

He leaned closer, eyes half lidded. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Yeah.”

You suddenly became away of how close you two were standing, how you could smell the remnants of the sweet cookies on his breath, about how soft his hair looked and thinking about what it might be like to run your hand through it, about how his muscles looked when he flexed them.

You blinked hard, jerking yourself out of this impromptu daydream. You felt the tips of your ears burn as your face flushed.

“The wolf came back last night,” You blurted.

His eyebrows furrowed, mouth falling from a sultry smirk to a frustrated frown. “He did, huh?”

“Yup! I named him, even. Golden Boy. Cause his fur is this really pretty yellow, you know? Kind of like your hair, but less shaggy.” Before you could stop yourself, you reached up and messed his bed-head. Good god, it was just as soft as you thought.

He pulled away, scrunching his nose and fixing his hair. “Th-that’s stupid. Why would I look like some dog?”

“So you admit he’s real?”

“I said dog, not wolf. His owner probably just dropped him off in the woods somewhere. It’s sad, but it happens. Sounds like he’s doing alright for himself.”

“I wouldn’t say that exactly.” You leaned on your elbows. “Every night he’s come to my cabin he’s been pretty beat up. Could another animal be targeting him? A bear or another wolf - sorry, abandoned dog?”

Bakugo looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, maybe. There’s a lot of dangerous creatures out in those woods.” His voice dropped low. “A lot of dangerous creatures.”

You looked over at the stack of books, the one with the werewolf illustration placed haphazardly on the top. “Like werewolves?” You joked.

He didn’t answer you.

~~~

“Buckle up, Golden Boy, we are going on a field trip.”

It was night again a few days later. You’d spent almost two weeks in the woods by this point. Your days were mostly spent hanging out with Bakugo in the fire watch tower or hiking through the forest with him. He’d given you a blank mole-skin notebook. You’d started sketching and labeling plants and animals you saw on your hikes with him. He’d ramble off information he’d learned from preparing for this job. While your drawing skills needed some improvement, you liked the calm, methodical motions and scratch of pen on paper, taking note of the tiny details that made one plant safe to eat and different from the poisonous one.

Your nights were spent with Golden Boy. His wound had long since cleared up, surprisingly fast, but don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all. You weren’t exactly sure why he kept coming to you at night. He obviously didn’t need any help finding food. Maybe he felt safer with you behind protective walls? A few times, you thought you saw reflective eyes in the depths of the trees, watching as you let Golden Boy inside the cabin as the moon rose. Or maybe he really did used to be someone’s pet and just felt lonely abandoned out here. He’d always be gone by the time you woke up, no matter how many times you’d fallen asleep leaning against him or curled under your arm.

You’d also kept arguing his existence to your hot-headed friend. Tonight, you finally decided to prove yourself right. You were going to bring your proof right to his front door.

“Come on,” You said, clapping your hands at the wolf lounging by the fire. “You’re going to help me rub some sweet ‘I told you so’ in a cute guy’s face.” He raised his head at you, giving you a look you had come to read from his doggy face. “What? He is. Or maybe I’ve just been stranded in the woods for too long.” You shrugged. Golden Boy let out his ‘you’re ridiculous’ puff of air noise and flopped over so the fire could warm his belly. You took two quick steps forward and rubbed your hand over his belly, it sinking into the thick fur. He let out a surprised yip and curled up, nipping at your hand before licking it and resigning himself to your attention.

You laughed, heading back to the door. “Come on! I haven’t gone hiking at night before. Think of all the cool nocturnal animals I can record in my journal. And I need my bodyguard, right? It’ll be fun-“

You cut yourself off. You opened the door, freezing as you came face-to-face with a fist, poised to knock. Looking past the fist, your throat went dry, heart dropping into your stomach, head going fuzzy. A man stood there in an expensive looking suit. He looked a little surprised, then flashed a wide used-car-salesman smile. One of his teeth was golden. You could see scars criss-crossing his knuckles and up one of his cheeks. His hair was practically a helmet with all the pomade in it.

“Well, hello there!” He said, chipper. That somehow made it worse. “I don’t suppose you’re (Y/N) (L/N), are you?”

The door blurred as you slammed it shut. Just before it closed, the man stopped it with his hands, which now seemed way too large and strong. You tried pushing it closed, but your muscles, even flooded with the adrenaline shooting through your veins, were no match for his.

You stumbled backward as he threw the door open. You saw several more equally if not more menacing men behind him. One was rolling up his sleeves, one checking the knuckle-dusters shining on his hands, one methodically fiddling with the safety on a gun.

You backed away, stopping when the back of your calves nudged into Golden Boy, who was now standing, a low growl emanating from his throat.

“Hey there, pup,” The smiling man said. He leaned down, rubbing his fingers together to encourage Golden Boy to come forward. Your wolf just snapped his fangs. “Aw, well. You hate hurting animals, but sometimes it’s just a hazard of the job.” He drew out a long hunting knife from a sheath shoved in his belt loop. It glistened in the fire light.

You were going to throw up.

“I don’t know anything,” You said, hating the waver in your voice. How could you have become so comfortable, so careless? Where the hell was your bat? “I don’t know where my dad is, I don’t know where your money is. I don’t know anything, I promise.” Tears were blurring your vision, stinging the back of your eyes.

“I’m sure you don’t, sweetheart,” He said. The other men crowded in through the door. The cabin suddenly felt ten times smaller. “But, you know, loose ends.”

Yellow blurred in your vision. Golden Boy flashed in front of you, powerful jaws clamping down on the man’s knife hand. He yowled in pain and shock, the knife clattering to the floor. The other men were stunned for a moment before lunging forward. One hit Golden Boy hard on the back of his head, another grabbing his back legs and yanking hard. Golden Boy kept his death-grip, red oozing from his mouth.

You scrambled backward, head whipping around to look for your bat. It now felt woefully useless. There, cast off in a corner. You’d been using it to dry dish towels.

It felt like 100 pounds in your hands.

You heard an unsettling thump followed by a yelp. Whipping around, you saw the man had managed to dislodge Golden Boy, throwing him against the wall. You cried a broken noise. You felt a hand grab the scruff of your neck. You jammed the bat behind you, connecting with the soft bulge of the man’s stomach. He “oof”ed and his grip loosened. You flung yourself forward, landing hard on your knees, and scrambled up. The door was wide open, the men temporarily distracted. You didn’t think twice.

You shot up, sliding like a baseball player going to home plate in front of Golden Boy. You held your bat in front of you like Excalibur itself.

“Don’t you fucking touch my dog!” You’d never said anything with such venom in your voice, but you still didn’t feel like it was enough to appropriately express your rage. Golden Boy shook his head, getting back to his feet. He stood by your side, head lowered between his shoulders, baring his teeth stained with blood.

The smiling man, who was now scowling in disgust, wrapped his bleeding hand with a way too expensive handkerchief. “God, typical. I hate dogs. Let’s hurry up and finish this.”

The one with the gun raised it, pointing it right between your eyes. You stood fast, gripping the bat so hard your hands were turning white.

You wanted to see Bakugo. It hit you like lightening that that was who was coming to your mind. You wanted to say something to him, an explanation of why you wouldn’t wake him up tomorrow morning. You wanted to make him promise he would take care of Golden Boy, after making him admit that you were right about the wolves. You wanted to hug him, to go on a walk someplace other than the woods, you wanted to cook a real meal in a real kitchen with him, you wanted to wake up in the morning with him at your side, Golden Boy at your feet.

You wanted so many things you knew you wouldn’t be getting. So you had to focus on what you could get. You wanted Golden Boy to get out of here, to be safe. And by hell or high water, you were going to do that.

You swung the bat back, aiming for the gunman’s wrist. You would knock the gun out of his hand, grab Golden Boy, kick him if you had to, get him out the door to get a head start. You’d probably get shot in the back doing it, but maybe the loud noise would startle him into running away. As long as he was safe, what else mattered?

One second you were staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, making peace with yourself. The next, the gun was gone, and so was the man. Blinking, you looked around to see where he had disappeared to. The other men, equally baffled, didn’t have time to react as they were tackled to the ground along with their firearm friend.

Golden Boy was in front of you, pushing you back by leaning his weight against your legs. You watched as your tiny cabin filled with giant wolves, gray, red, black, brown, all with flashing fangs and claws. One man with a knife reared up, pulling his arm back to throw the knife at you. Materializing out of thin air, a new man, one you hadn’t seen before, appeared behind him, catching the first in a headlock and pulling him down until he went limp in a choked-out sleep.

The new man snarled, whipping his head around to stare right into your soul. And he was naked. How did you not notice that? The man looked like he threw full grown trees around for fun, and cut them down for work. Every inch of skin, and there was a lot of skin, had some scar tissue or mark indicating a life of hard-scraps.

His eyes snapped down to Golden Boy, still setting himself firmly between you and the raucous crowd. The man jerked his head to the open door. “Wait outside,” He said, voice unbelievably gruff and low. “We’ll take care of this.”

“Okay?” You said, voice loose. You felt like you were going to faint. You grounded yourself with a tug on your sleeve. Looking down, you saw Golden Boy, his teeth gently closed around your sleeve. He somehow managed to avoid looking at you, pulling you on unsteady feet out in the cool night air. He kicked the door shut with his hide leg as soon as you were out.

All of your energy left you at once. You slumped against a tree, forehead leaning on your knees and blood rushing back into your hands as you dropped your bat. You sat there, still save for the involuntary tremors that racked your body, for who knows how long.

You heard a quiet whimper. Peeking your eyes through your fingers, you saw Golden Boy. He was pacing, eyes downcast and tail tucked between his legs. He was limping a little, his old wound bothered in no small part due to being bodily thrown against the wall.

“Hey,” You said softly. He jerked to a stop and looked up at you, bringing his eyes back down in a guilty expression. “It’s okay. Come here.” You held your hands out, palms up and fingers splayed. He trotted over to you, resting his enormous head in your hands and laying down, his chest pressing on your legs. You buried your face in the thick fur on the back of his neck. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

When the cabin door creaked open, panic seized your adrenaline abandoned muscles. Your hand shot to the bat, its strange weight now frighteningly familiar. Golden Boy barely stirred in your lap, only lazily opening his eyes and shifting closer to you as if hiding from some sort of punishment.

The burly man stepped out first, still naked, you (unfortunately) noticed. He had two yakuza members with him, one slung over each shoulder, limp and unmoving. Next came three huge wolves, one of them walking backward while pulling along another gang member by the cuff of his pants. A woman came out with him, also naked, with the longest hair you had ever seen, similarly scuffed and scraped as the first man. She was followed by two more wolves. The strange group dumped the bodies of your attackers in a haphazard pile near the tree line. Were they dead? You couldn’t tell. God, which option was better?

The man stretched, thick cords of muscle rippling under his skin. He sighed, like a tired parent, and turned to you. You cut your gaze away quickly, making sure to keep your eyes above a certain level.

“Are you badly hurt?” His voice was the same low rumble of an earthquake.

“Um, no. I-I think we’re okay. Thank you.”

He hummed, rolling his shoulders. “No thanks necessary. We stand for our own, no matter the pack.”

“I’m sorry, pack?” You asked, voice squeaking. Your brain was working overtime to process everything.

“Hmph.” The man looked disappointed but not surprised. He nudged Golden Boy with his foot. The wolf whined again, turning his head away. “You still can’t shift on command? How are you meant to lead your pack when you can’t do the most basic things?” Golden Boy whined and grumbled.

“I-what? What does any of this have to do with my dog?” You wrapped your arms protectively around him.

The man quirked an eyebrow. “A wolf without a pack is a dangerous thing. A lone creature who can’t even control his own body needs to be culled. Now that he has found a pack, he has a greater responsibility. He’s part of a whole, not only himself.”

“Hang on-” You tried to stand up only for Golden Boy to shove his weight down on you harder. “Were you the ones hurting Golden Boy? What’s the matter with you? Why would you hurt an animal? And, sorry, but why are you naked? I tried not to say anything but it’s kind of bothering me a lot.”

The man stared you down, looking back to your wolf. “You didn’t tell her anything?” Golden Boy whined. The man sighed. “This will be more difficult than I thought. Our pack must move. We’ve completed our duty.We’ll deal with this… refuse.” He looked at the unconscious yakuza. He nudged Golden Boy again. “Take care of this one. He has a lot to learn.”

The man turned, a yell building in your throat. In front of your eyes, he shifted, skin sprouting silver gray hair. You heard the pop of bones as the man seemed to fall over, but you quickly realized his entire body structure had changed. Where a person had once stood, a wolf walked. The woman from before was also gone, now just the group of wolves. The gray wolf looked back at you, nodding once, before raising up a howl with the rest of his pack.

When you finally managed to feel your heartbeat slow to a non-life-threatening level, you looked down. “Alright, we have a lot to talk about, because apparently you can do that?” Golden Boy turned away from you. “Yeah, alright, nap first. Nap sounds good.”

You passed out.

~~~

You woke up with a headache knocking at your temples. Your mouth felt thick with cotton. You felt warm, gradually taking note of the blanket that had been carefully draped over you. Blearily opening your eyes, you watched dust motes float through shafts of light that filtered through the curtains on your cabin windows. You must have forgotten to dose the fire before you went to bed. It was still crackling in the fireplace.

“Golden Boy?” You said, voice craggy. Why were you still wearing your day clothes? “Yout there, bud?”

A knuckle rapped gently on your forehead. “Exactly how hard did you hit your head?”

You shot up, immediately regretting it as pain flared up your spine to bloom in your skull. “Whoa, hey, take it easy.” A pair of hands steadied your shoulders, helping you sit up.

You blinked hard, looking up into now familiar red eyes. “Bakugo?”

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “You can call me Katsuki now, you know. I think we’re close enough, after everything.”

“Everything-? Oh. Oh! Oh my god!” You tried to jump up, knees giving out underneath you. Your limbs felt like they were encased in lead.

“I told you to take it easy, dumbass,” Bakugo, Katsuki, said. He caught you before you fell, helping you sit back down. He stood up, going to the stove and sliding a pancake on top of a stack, still steaming. Pulling half onto a separate plate, he came back, handing one to you.

Numbly, you took it, tearing a piece off and shoving it in your mouth. “You have pecans in here.”

“We didn’t have any syrup, so I thought this would be a good substitute. Having pancakes on their own is kind of boring.”

“Sure. Yeah. So.” You let it hang there, watching him avoid your eyes and much on pancakes.

He swallowed. “So.” He ate half of another one before continuing. “I’m a werewolf.”

You blinked. “Okay.”

He scowled. ‘There it is,’ You thought. “‘Okay’? That’s all you have to say?”

You shrugged. “I mean, what else am I supposed to say? I’m pretty sure a group of werewolves saved my life last night. I literally saw a guy turn into a wolf, so that checks out. I might still be in shock a little bit, to be honest. So, uh, werewolf, huh?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes and shoving another pancake in his mouth. You cracked a smile and joked, “Well, you sure eat like a dog.” He punched your shoulder. You both laughed anyway.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” He said eventually. “I don’t think anyone does. I got bit by a rogue wolf. Turned pretty soon after. I’m not going to lie, I did some pretty bad stuff. I was freaked out, half out of my mind, those wolf instincts kicking in. It’s not an excuse, but… I got a job out here, thought I could isolate myself, research to see if I could find a cure or something. The pack found me almost immediately. I mean, I practically waltzed right in to their territory, so I can’t blame them. That rule they have, it’s true. A lone werewolf, someone without a pack, they’re dangerous. Unpredictable. They tried to… put me down. I usually managed to get away, but one night I made a stupid mistake. I should have died.” He looked up at you. “And then I ran in to you.”

“And then you ran in to me.” You reached out, petting your hand through his hair. It was still soft, whether as a golden wolf or a human. “So, I’m your pack now? That’s what that guy said, the other werewolf. What does that mean, exactly?”

He blushed, pulling apart his remaining pancakes. “A pack is like a family. They look out for each other, stand with each other. I didn’t tell them we were a pack or anything. I guess they just sort of inferred. Since, like, we’ve been spending a lot of time together, no matter what form.”

You grinned. “They think you’re my boyfriend?” He punched you again, with less malice this time. “Hey, I didn’t say I minded.”

“It’s a lot,” Katsuki continued quickly, the words all rushing out as if he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to say it all. “I still don’t know a lot about all this. I always shift at night. I’m trying to get better at controlling it, but it’s hard. And it’s hard to go through all the history and stuff and pull out fact from fiction. I feel like I can’t control anything and I’m so fucking useless and I-“

You pressed your lips against his. Finally. His lips were chapped, and your teeth clacked together at first, but the warmth that spread through your chest made it all worth it. A plate clattered against the floor as he shifted closer to you. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, bringing you closer. Your fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt, pulling.

He pulled back, your breath mixing together.

“I think I like the woods, now,” You said, softly. “It’s nice out here. Good company.” He chuckled, lowley. “And I like you. A lot. And I love dogs.”

He laughed loudly, once, before pulling you back in for another kiss.

#fanfic #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha #my hero academia #werewolf!bakugo #reader insert #just some self indulgent fluff

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ofdragonsdeep · 4 years ago

Text

24: Illustrious

The city of Ishgard was more vast than even imagination could suggest.

(m!WoLxHaurchefant)

Ishgard. Shining jewel in the crown of the Holy See, rising tall and strong out of the Sea of Clouds. Though her once fair weather had turned to snow and ice in the days following the Calamity, her streets were no less impressive for their gatherings of snow-piles, though the ice certainly made the walkways a little more dangerous.

Ar’telan had spent many days looking up at the city during his time in Coerthas. From the constant back and forth of scurrying tasks that had accompanied their search for the Enterprise, to nights out gathering rare apples on the hoary trees, to moments on Providence Point with Haurchefant, listening with delighted eyes as he extolled the virtues of his homeland. Despite it all, despite coming close enough to touch the gates within when he had helped to hold the line against the Horde on the Steps of Faith, today was his first day within the city.

The circumstance left much to be desired, that was true. A desperate, hurried retreat in the dead of night, the temporary comfort of Camp Dragonhead - Tataru had noticed that Haurchefant lingered by their Warrior of Light, even if Alphinaud had been too lost in panic and fear to do the same - and now here they were. Fugitives. Criminals. His friends were missing or dead. Some hero he had been for them.

Though Tataru and Alphinaud had left with the Count’s manservant to tour the city, Ar’telan had lingered behind. He had noticed the elder of the Count’s sons roll his eyes when he instead crossed the room to where Haurchefant stood, and said nothing of it.

“I believe you promised me a tour,” he said, attempting to inject a little mirth into his smile and likely failing miserably. Haurchefant started, surprised by the address, but gave him a warm smile nonetheless.

“I had wondered if you would remember,” he said, then cast a glance across the room. “Have I your leave, my lord?” he asked the Count, who inclined his head once in agreement. There was a stiffness between them that was impossible to deny - that this was Haurchefant on his best behaviour was already clear, but Ar’telan was still unsure precisely who he was behaving for. There was care and love in the Count’s lined face, no less than that with which he looked upon the two men stood beside him, and Haurchefant yearned-

But here was not the time nor the place for such considerations.

“With me, then,” Haurchefant said, gesturing excitedly to Ar’telan as he escorted him out of the door.

—

The air was chilly in the streets of the Last Vigil, and the knight stood watch outside the manor doors had gained a thin coating of snow during their time indoors. He offered them both a silent, respectful nod as they passed. If any of them thought it strange that their guests had different guides, none of them said it aloud.

“If I were to show you every corner of Ishgard we would be gone for days, I fear, so I shall give you the short version,” Haurchefant decided, another encouraging smile levelled at Ar’telan as he said it. “It was not quite the circumstance I had envisioned, I will admit, but you are here nonetheless.”

“Thank you,” Ar’telan said, before rubbing his fingers together and blowing on them to try and ward off the cold. He was going to need a pair of gloves that came with fingers if he was going to be spending much time outside, and his scholar’s robes were not cutting it. “I know it could not have been easy at such short notice.” A pained look passed over Haurchefant’s face at the reminder, and he shook his head.

“Not at all. The Count knows of your valiant deeds.”

“Because you told him?” Ar’telan inferred, and Haurchefant laughed.

“Perhaps. Come. We shall start from the beginning,” he insisted, ushering Ar’telan down the great slopes like an excited puppy. The knights they passed shot them strange looks - those who wore the rose of House Haillenarte seemed more understanding than the ones who did not, whether they were Temple Knights or simply in service to one of the other two Houses. Ar’telan shrank from their scrutiny, and though Haurchefant moved to put himself between judgemental glares and his charge, he did not reach out a hand in comfort like he had at Camp Dragonhead.

Ar’telan thought he might know why.

—

“So! This is the aetheryte plaza,” Haurchefant began, a wave of his hand encompassing the great area that lay beyond the ingress at the Gates of Judgement. “The Horde’s attacks have been ceaseless of late, even in the wake of their defeat at the Steps. Pay no mind to the rubble.”

“There are wounded,” Ar’telan began, but Haurchefant shook his head.

“Your magicks will be as welcome as they were on your first visit to Ishgard. Though you mean well, it would not do to invite the stares of the Inquisition.” Ar’telan took his hand from his grimoire, his conscience crying out in protest at simply walking past the knights who limped towards their destinations, or collapsed in crumpled heaps out of the reach of the worst snowfall. He remembered what they had said the first time he had begged aid of Ishgard, at the Observatorium. Heretic, they had whispered, his talking fingers that any could understand clearly the work of some fell magic that he had sold his soul to obtain. He did not know which of the tall spires that peppered his horizon now housed the main body of the Inquisition, but Haurchefant was right. He would need all the help he could get.

“Much of Ishgard’s heart beats from here,” Haurchefant said, watching as Ar’telan held out his hand to attune to the aetheryte they stood beside. “The Skysteel Manufactory supplies weapons for the knights, the Holy Stables provides chocobos bred for battle. Then there is the main bastion of the Temple Knights due north, and the Proving Grounds where they hold the tourney every year.”

“Have you ever fought?” Ar’telan asked. Haurchefant frowned at the question.

“I… No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Those who seek to join the Temple Knights and those who would prove the value of their blood are the only ones who may.” Ar’telan bit his lip, holding one hand over the other to prevent asking the question he so badly wanted to ask. “Down below lies the Brume,” Haurchefant continued, as though the interruption had never happened. “They have suffered the brunt of the Horde’s attacks, and there has been precious little time to restore what was lost as of late, I fear.” Ar’telan glanced over at the rickety wooden scaffold, saw the children scowling through the gaps. Their ire seemed reserved for the painted metal of Haurchefant’s shield, though they did not spare Ar’telan the full force of their wrath.

“I can imagine why that might be,” he said, and Haurchefant sighed.

“‘Tis the prevailing attitude that it is better to dash those with less to lose upon the rocks,” he agreed. “It is not the way I try to run the camp at Dragonhead, but it is the way of Ishgard.” Ar’telan tore his gaze away from precipitous drops and dirty children huddled upon rubble.

“You would expect me to look away,” he said, and Haurchefant shook his head, almost automatically.

“I would not expect it of you. But for now you may need to try,” he said, a compromise of sorts. It was strange to Ar’telan - every time they had stood on Providence Point and watched the lights of the city, Haurchefant had spoken of his home at length, the beauty of her streets and the strength of her people. But here he held his tongue, and not for wanting to. Who watched him?

“You may find a little of your time drawn to the Forgotten Knight,” Haurchefant added, moving on with characteristic swiftness. “It is not an upper class establishment, but it is respectable, and Gibrillont will like you once he knows the kind of man you are, I think.”

“You and the Count have placed a lot of stock in that,” Ar’telan said, without even thinking about it. Haurchefant let out a sigh.

“Yes. I have endeavoured not to go on overlong about your virtues, but I am ever prone to getting lost in a topic. I am told it is one of my less favourable features.” The cheerful smile he gave to accompany the statement stopped Ar’telan’s immediate desire to disagree, but it still sat wrong in the air between them. “Come, come. I shall show you the more famous sights!”

—

Haurchefant took him all around the city, from the markets all the way back up to the Hoplon, the statue of the Fury casting a stony gaze upon the more fortunate of the city. Ar’telan listened in enraptured silence as Haurchefant told him of the history and makeup of the city - from its founding under King Thordan I, through the meanings of each and every statue they passed under, to those who ruled it now. Ar’telan knew it already, of course - Haurchefant had spoken on it at length many times before, often without being asked - but it lended a weight to it, to hear it described on the very streets upon which the history had happened. He felt a little of his cheer return to listen to Haurchefant talk, too, a welcome distraction from the troubles which had plagued him since the day of the banquet. But if Haurchefant’s careful words were any indication, he was not entirely done with hiding from unwanted eyes.

“...And that is the long and short of it,” Haurchefant finished. “Though mostly the long, I fear. How do you fare?”

“I could pass a quiz if given one,” Ar’telan offered, which made Haurchefant laugh.

“Well, you never do know with the Inquisition. Come with me, then. The gazebo by the manor is shielded from prying eyes and has a fire besides. We can await the return of your companions there.” Ar’telan nodded, following dutifully where he was led.

Though even the manors of the High Houses were packed in, in a manner not dissimilar to fullmoon sardines stacked in the can, the little gazebo and the boxes of stubborn winter flowers that grew around it were away from the road. The view over the city below was enough to capture Ar’telan’s eyes immediately, and he was propped up on his knees on the seating to better crane his neck over for the view. Haurchefant sat beside him, and a gentle hand upon his own almost startled him enough to send him tumbling the many yalms down into the road below.

“I must apologise for my reticence,” Haurchefant said, and Ar’telan clambered back into a more conventional seating position, watching him with confused and curious eyes. “How long I have dreamed of this day, and yet… I seem unable to seize it.” He let out a morose sigh, a most unsuitable emotion for him, and shook his head. “It was not my intent to seem stifled, my dear… my friend. You must forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Ar’telan disagreed. “Not after all you have done for us, all your family has risked. I know what it means.” The smile crept back onto Haurchefant’s face then, and he lifted Ar’telan’s hand to press a gentle kiss to the back of his fingers.

“Fully do I love my homeland and my people, but knowing how we have treated you in moons past, and how we might in the days coming, it is worrisome,” he confessed. “Perhaps one day we shall return to this exercise, and I shall lead you by the hand instead.”

“To finish in the Cathedral?” Ar’telan said, the subtle tease in it enough to make Haurchefant laugh.

“If you are a lucky man, perhaps,” he allowed. “Alas, I have already tarried here overlong, and Corentiaux will have a fit if I neglect my duties any further. I shall return you to his Lordship’s care.”

“Your father’s care,” Ar’telan disagreed, and the wince at the middle word was palpable on Haurchefant’s face.

“Oftentimes I find myself glad that none can overhear your words,” he said. “It would be best if you did not call him thus in front of Lords Artoirel and Emmanellain. The wound ever stings, I fear.”

“If that is what you wish,” Ar’telan conceded, though he did not much like it.

—

His return to the warmth of the manor was uneventful. The Count’s two sons had departed from the main room in the time that he was out, and the servants merely ushered him in and guided him to the sofa by the fire to await his companions’ return. Not a few minutes after the steward had left, the Count walked his slow way into the room, the click of his walking stick against the shining marble floor stirring Ar’telan from his flame-induced reverie.

He did not walk over immediately, instead going to the nearest window and staring out at the view beyond. The snow had begun to settle in something fierce now - likely why Alphinaud and Tataru were so far behind him - so there was little to see but the foggy outlines of the city he had to be intimately familiar with. It was not precisely a comfortable silence, but Ar’telan did not feel confident enough to break it, so he kept his counsel.

He looked up again when the sounds of walking overshadowed the ticking clock, and Count Edmont seated himself opposite his guest. He seemed a very tired man, up close, and Ar’telan supposed he carried a great many burdens all alone, as a Count. A gilded cell, perhaps, and he himself the gaoler, but the stress was no less there for the privilege of it.

“My son has spoken of you at great length,” he said, which made Ar’telan recoil slightly in surprise.

“Lord Haurchefant has overstated my virtues, I am sure,” he said, choosing his words carefully. The Count let out a long and wearied sigh.

“So my eldest has assured me, yes,” he said, gently leaning his cane against the arm of the chair and folding his hands carefully in his lap. “But I have never been a man to judge before I have seen someone’s capabilities for myself. But that is not why I am speaking with you now.”

“I am aware of-” Ar’telan began, but the Count held up a hand, and Ar’telan snatched his own back like an admonished schoolboy, blinking in nervous uncertainty.

“Haurchefant tells me on every occasion he can that the two of you are… careful,” he said, and Ar’telan stared at his knees rather than acknowledge that Haurchefant had spoken of them in front of his own father. “That no unfriendly eyes shall see his overtures towards you, and none of the enemies of our house shall catch the words you speak.”

“He speaks true,” Ar’telan began, desperate to defend him, and the Count shook his head.

“I know he does. He is devoted beyond measure,” he agreed. “I wished only to apologise.” Ar’telan made a surprised noise, fingers trembling in the absence of the response he was supposed to have, ears tilted back in distress. “Regardless of the veracity of his claims as to your strength - which I have no reason to doubt, no matter his clear bias - the fact remains that he loves you dearly. And, if I have your measure, you do him, as well.” Ar’telan swallowed, feeling embarrassment rising in his face at the proclamation. “And yet he dare not say it, not even within his own home, for my sake. I am making a poor impression indeed, as is Ishgard herself.” Ar’telan shook his head.

“No. I understand it, my Lord,” he assured him. “Haurchefant’s love for Ishgard, and for you, is clear in his every word.” Now it was the Count’s turn to be surprised, the frown which coloured his features giving voice to his concerns where his words did not. Still he seemed so tired. Though Haurchefant had spoken at length of his father’s tireless struggle against the xenophobic policies of their homeland, he had either not wanted or not thought to dwell upon the toll it had taken on him.

“I do wonder if we deserve it,” he said, his voice quiet. “I do not imagine that your stay here will be much kinder than your journey, Master Qin. If I could do more, then I would.”

“You have already done more than you should,” Ar’telan disagreed. “I will repay your kindness and the risks that you have taken in allowing us to shelter here. I know it was not an easy decision to make.”

“Ah, well, it is difficult to refuse Haurchefant when he truly wants something,” the Count lamented, shaking his head slightly at the thought of it. “Know that within these walls you need not hide, not even as you did within our camp at Dragonhead. All here understand Haurchefant’s position, as well as your own. After all that you have suffered in recent times, we can at least relieve you of that burden.”

“Lord Haurchefant has returned to Camp Dragonhead, though,” Ar’telan said, confused, and the Count chuckled.

“Yes, but he will be back, within bells if he can. He is not the most subtle of my boys, though the competition is fiercer than it ought be.” Ar’telan hid a laugh behind his hand, then stiffered and straightened as the door was eased open.

“Milord, Master Leveilleur has returned,” the steward said, and the Count inclined his head, getting to his feet and retrieving the cane with barely a huff of effort.

“Fetch Artoirel and Emmanellain, and show him through,” he instructed, before glancing back to Ar’telan. “I hope you can forgive the dance of politics, Master Qin, though both you and your young friend seem accustomed to it.” Ar’telan nodded with a small smile on his face, uncurling from his comfortable position by the fire. A secret behind every word, and a judgement behind every glance, such was the way of Ishgard as Haurchefant had told him. But he had, at least, passed this test, and for that he was glad.

#lies down on the floor this one got away from me #ffxivwrite2021 #It's strange to go back to early-HW interactions given the way the Fortemps basically adopt the WoL #Takes canon and puts it on the floor and stomps on it #m!WoLxHaurchefant #Warrior of Light (Solo story)

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kurosara · 5 years ago

Text

John Murphy x Reader (The 100)

Now Let’s Go Survive

No one could’ve guessed I’d end up here. Not even me. I wasn’t the worst criminal to come down to the Ark by a long shot, nor was I the best fighter once we hit the ground, but I was stubborn and persisten. Like Clarke. Just with better ideas haha. As the dark, scarlet red color dripped on the ground, leaving a scattered trail from the cuts on my body and face, my wrists ached and burned from my restraints and my hair is wet and sticking to my forehead from sweat. The sun beat down on me hotter than I ever thought possible from the Ark, and the two grounders pulling on the ties of my hands, continued to yank on the connected chain as they spoke in hushed voices. My feet, heavy like bricks, trudged through mounds of sand as waves of wind would push through, kicking up heaps of sand into my already dry and bruised face.

‘Why did I have to follow him here?’

Even as the thought crossed my mind, I felt no sense of regret or shame for what I’ve done. The only thing I regretted was not taking more training lessons, per Bellamy’s orders, when we were living back at the drop ship. Then maybe I wouldn’t have been beaten so badly by a grounder trying to steal my things in my expeditions across the desert. Suddenly the rope on my chain that had been pulled taut relentlessly during the last few... hours? How long had I been walking? It felt like an eternity that finally seemed to end as the rope grew slack and my restrainers stood still, peering around a corner. I couldn’t force myself to stand any longer as my wobbly legs gave way below me, and my head collided with the sturdy, albeit soft, sand I had been mentally cursing not long ago.

“Keep an eye on her. I’ll get them.” One of the voices, a female, spoke.

The restraints around my hands were pulled at once more, my arms coming off the ground lazily, but my body persisted in its attempt to alleviate the stress I’d put it through.

“Get up!” The male grounder whisper yelled at me.

With a hoarse groan, and the need to suppress a dry, throat aching cough, I got to my knees, breathing becoming harder as my vision faded in and out.

‘So much for surviving together.’ At this point I didn’t even think I’d survive alone much longer.

“Put all your belongings on the ground now.” The familiar voice of my female captor echoed in my ears, though she sounded as if she were miles away.

My body jerked forward against my will as my body was dragged across the coarse sand and from behind the structure we had sought cover at. I could tell I was being restrained as my arms were placed at an awkward uplifted position, though the majority of my body clung to the ground, my torso drifting and swinging slightly as my body became limp. My hands were now tied to the cart my captors kept.

“(Y/n)…” a whisper of a voice spoke.

“Otan, get their things. I’ve got her.” My hearing picked up a bit as the rest of my senses dulled in comparison.

“If you want us to agree, you let her go!” A slightly unfamiliar deep voice came across as nothing more than a mumble to my dying figure. I can imagine it’s a combination of exhaustion, heat stroke, and blood loss, having tried to fight my way out at least three times earlier in the sandy desert.

“(Y/n)! Are you alive? Come on, answer me!” A gruff and raspy voice called out to me, but I could do nothing to respond as the cart shook, probably from whatever items they had added to it.

“(Y/n)! Emori. Come on we did what you said! Let her go!”

This time the voice sounded closer, as if getting louder with each phrase. Silence filled the air as waves of heat continued to rush over my body. I felt my arms wiggle and the sound of a blade against my restraints. I fell to the ground with a soft thud, my mind too tired to process the pain reaching each end of my body, however, that didn’t stop me from coughing up a small puddle of blood from the impact. I heard the rickety sound of the cart being pulled away, and suddenly the sun didn’t feel so hot. The overbearing, heat producing star that had forced me to keep my eyes closed majority of the day, was now covered by something, or rather someone. I groaned in agony as my eyes drifted open slightly, trying to focus.

“(Y/n) you’re gonna be alright. I’m right here. What’re you even doing out here dammit?!”

As my eyes finally opened and my vision cleared of the blurry spots, I saw the silhouette of someone I thought I’d never see again.

‘John Murphy.’

My cracked and dried lips curled into a slight smile at the corners before a wince of pain replaced my smile with a twisted one of agony. I felt like a shell of myself as I was gently brought to rest in Murphy’s lap, feeling my limbs be picked up and placed down as, I assume, someone dressed my still bleeding wounds. Through it all I never let my eyes close as they stared deep into Murphy’s blue eyes. They remind me of an ocean I so desperately wished to wade in. He held a torn piece of fabric in his hand that he used to gently wipe the sand and blood from my face.

“How did you get here? I thought I left you back at the camp?” Murphy’s voice sounded like music to my spinning head as I weakly chuckled.

“You can’t *cough* get rid of me that easily. Staying behinds not *cough* my specialty remember?”

Murphy chuckled softly at my lame attempt to act alright. My own voice didn’t even sound recognizable to myself. Murphy reached into the lining of his jacket, pulling out a canteen and opening it, placing the canteen near my lips. He slowly gave me what little water was left as I tried not to gulp it down as a semblance of my unquenched thirst.

“How did you even get out here?”

Murphy gently sat me up, helping me to my feet and placing his arm around my waist as I wobbled, attempting to collapse once more.

“I’m a tracker. When you weren’t at camp this morning, I noticed Sinclair and the others leaving for the drop ship. I lost you guys as you reached the desert. And well... you know... sand doesn’t do well for tracking.”

Murphy shook his head slightly, his face reading sadness and regret, but his eyes were hopeful and with a new glint. Someone cleared their throat and I turned my attention to see... Jaha?

It felt like a new electricity sparked deep within me as I saw the man who I promised to kill. It was on sight for me to say the least. With my newly found determination, even in my battered state, I tried to lunge forward at Jaha. I didn’t get very close, but I pursued.

“You son of a bitch! I’m gonna kill you!!”

Arms grasped sternly, albeit still cautious of my injuries, around my torso and stopped my advancing.

“(Y/n), calm down! He’s the only reason we’re gonna get out of here. Alive. Together.”

Murphy slowed down his words as if he knew I wasn’t trying to hear anything other than the sound of Jaha’s last breath. Before me, standing so smugly as if thinking about a riddle no one else knows the answer to, is the man who floated my mother and had me sent to the Skybox. Who sent me with the 100 to the ground to die.

“I couldn’t kill you at the camp but there’s no one here to save you now Chancellor!” My words echoed in the far off distance.

Murphy grabbed my bruised face in his dry and calloused hands, forcing me to look him in the eye.

“(Y/n) listen. I know. You know I know. Trust me. We’re on the same side here. But he’s going to get us to the city of light,” Murphy glanced behind me at Jaha, his tone not certain about his latter statement, “We need to keep him alive for now.”

“But John-!”

Murphy cut me off, his face sympathetic as I used his first name, a privilege few ever had, “You don’t have to trust him. Just trust me. Like you always have. I’ve gotten us this far right?” He smirked slightly and I smiled again slightly, remembering I came to this death trap desert for him. “You do trust me right?” His voice shook just the slightest bit, as if he was worried my answer would be something different than it always has been.

“Of course.”

Maybe it was the sun stroke, or just the need for something other than the pain that intensified with every move, but whatever it was I wasn’t trying to stop. I brought my hands to his chest, gripping the material of his shirt tightly as Murphy looked at me with the cutest face of confusion, and pulled him down to me, our lips connecting in a kiss. We had never shared anything remotely intimate with each other. The closest Murphy and I have ever been is cuddling in his tent in the middle of the night when no one would catch us. That felt like an eternity ago now. I could feel Murphy’s hands tense around my cheeks as our lips moved together before he moved one hand to my waist and the other to the back of my neck. The make out session was enough to make me forget about the scorching heat or what I’ve just been through. This made everything worth it. We separated just far enough for our foreheads to touch.

“I promised I’d find you always.” I whispered the words for only Murphy to hear.

“And you do. Every time. Now let’s go survive. Together.” Music to my sunburnt ears!

His lips half curled into a smirk, though the underlying smile made my heart flutter.

“Together.”

~~~~~~~~~

GAAAHH so this was probably trash as can be, but I have been craving John Murphy ever since they put season 7 on Netflix. I have been rewatching before I continue. And I never actually finish a story series (like seriously i’ve started 4-5 stories and never finished one :/ ) so crappy imagines it is :)

#john murphy #murphy #the 100 #the cw the 100 #imagines #oneshot #OneShots #Richard harmon #x reader #x you #john Murphy x reader #john Murphy x you #murphy x reader #murphy x you

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writemywaytoyourheart · 5 years ago

Text

Onsra-

Chapter 25: Monster

pairing: vampire!jungkook x female reader

genre: E2L, romance, drama, angst, horror

warnings for this chapter: human and animal blood and death, language

word count: 8.1k

Onsra: ML, Previous

a/n: hope the wait was worth it :)) sorry it’s late :((

____________________________________

“Do you know if he’s had human blood?” Seokjin asked hesitantly. You ignored the knots in your stomach and shook your head. “I don’t think so, but I don’t know for sure.” You said quietly. You stole a glance at Jungkook in the back of the line, hoping beyond hope that you’re right. Seokjin nodded and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up a little.

“Well, that’s our last hope then.” He whispers.

“What do you mean?” You ask, not sure if you even want to know the answer.

“If he drank human blood, he would be beyond our saving. Before we escaped, that’s what the vampire group we were in was trying to make us do. None of us had any, thank goodness.” He looks back at the youngest before finishing, “I think we would know if he had it, though.”

You frowned and let your thoughts get swallowed up with worry and sadness as you two continued to follow Yoongi through the woods.

Your last conversation with Seokjin before Yoongi realized you were all lost flashes in your mind a second before you realize what Jungkook is going to do. His shoulders are heaving as he stares the man that was touching you dead in the eyes. When his breath quickens, it registers in your brain and you scream.

“Jungkook! Jungkook no! Stop!!”

The vampire pays no heed to your shouts, his mind in a blur of guilt, hatred, and rage. He’s biting the man’s neck before he even realizes what he’s doing. The man screams when Jungkook’s fangs sink into him, but the vampire keeps going.

You’re scooting on the ground and trying to untie your legs as you panic, “Jungkook please! Stop! Stop it!”

Please, Jungkook. Please stop.

Your legs are bound so tight that you’ve only managed to make it worse, tightening the knots and making them cut into your skin even more.

Not even a minute passes when he finally gets a grip and pulls away slowly. The man falls to the ground in a heap, the blood staining his neck where Jungkook bit him.

He turns to face you, his eyes going from that deep red to the slightly lighter red you’re used to, then he reaches up to wipe his mouth. You can see the man’s blood on his lips and that’s when your heart sinks to your feet, knowing that he didn’t just bite him; he drank it.

Suddenly Jungkook is kneeling in front of you again and taking your face in his hands, his eyes shining, almost as if he’s about to cry. “Y/n, are you okay? Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” He’s scanning your face and body, looking for any serious injuries. When you speak he looks back into your eyes.

“Jungkook.” You’re not sure what else to say.

He’s still being sweet. Maybe Seokjin was wrong?

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice cracks and your mind is spinning in all directions, beyond confused at this point. “I’m sorry for being such an asshole, you never deserved any of it.” He brushes away the stray hair in your face, tucking it behind your ear, his thumb lingering on your cheek.

Your heart is racing in your chest from all the adrenaline in the past few hours. You can tell he’s being genuine, which makes you even more thrown off.

“Jungkook-“

“You can hate me, I wouldn’t blame you. But I want you to know, I-“

He looks down cutting himself off, his shoulders lifting and dropping slowly. You frown and reach out to touch his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Jungkook shakes his head, “I’m fine.” Then he easily unties the knots wrapping around your legs, his bottom lip trembling slightly when he sees the blood where the rope cut into your skin through the holes in your jeans and your ankles. He bites his lip and looks back up at you, giving you a sad smile. You notice he’s sweating; his forehead is wet as he reaches a hand up to wipe it.

“Y/n, I’m- I’m sorry…” He mumbles faintly before his breath quickens and you grab his shoulders, “Jungkook, I forgive you. Just take deep breaths.”

He brings a hand up to his head, trying to steady himself. When he opens his eyes the world keeps spinning, around and around. He closes them and sways slightly, feeling your hands on his shoulders again.

“Jungkook. Deep breaths, stay with me.” Your voice is shaking as you watch him trying to breathe. It seems like he can’t get enough air in and he’s shaking like a leaf.

“Jungkook, where are the others? Are they here? Hey, don’t. Just focus on breathing.” You’re panicking now as he takes shallow breaths and starts slumping to the side. You try to hold him up, but he’s too heavy.

“Jin! Help! Somebody help!” You can only scream and pray that he had found the others before he came after you.

You don’t know what to do.

Jungkook collapses on the ground, the weight of his limp body too much for you. You catch his head before it hits the ground, gently laying it down and brushing his sweaty hair out of his face, “Please hold on, Jungkook. You’re gonna be okay.” You say tearfully, then your head jerks up when you see Taehyung come through the door, followed by Hoseok.

“They’re here!” He shouts behind him, causing the sound of footsteps to reach your ears as the others run to the room from other sections of the building.

With his long strides, Taehyung makes it across the room in a second. He crouches down and puts his hand to Jungkook’s forehead, then he frowns and looks up at you.

“Are you all right, Y/n?”

You nod frantically, not caring about anything but Jungkook right now. “I’m fine, but Jungkook…” You look down at him again and a single tear slips out.

“What happened?” Tae asks gently, watching your face carefully.

“He drank the man’s blood.” You choke out, a few more tears falling. Taehyung’s expression darkens and he’s about to say something when you feel Jungkook shift under your hands. You look down at him, relieved that he’s okay.

Jungkook moves around like he’s waking up, then to your horror he starts to shake violently. Taehyung brushes the hair out of the youngest’s face, “Kook? It’s okay. I’m here.”

Jungkook doesn’t seem to hear him, his breaths short and panicky as his body starts to twitch uncontrollably.

Taehyung grabs Jungkook’s shoulders to try and help him calm down, “Kook! Hey, you’re okay buddy, it’s going to be okay. Stay with me.” Jungkook’s body won’t stop twitching and moving around while you watch hopelessly. You try to cup his face and speak to him like Tae is doing, but nothing works.

“Jungkook, just listen to our voices, ok?” Your voice cracks as more tears escape, sliding down your cheeks. Hoseok is standing over you three, trying to figure out what to do, watching his little brother struggle and not knowing how to help him.

“What’s going on? Move, move!” Seokjin pushes through everyone when he reaches the room, then he stops abruptly when he sees Jungkook convulsing in your arms.

The second he grasps what’s going on, he kneels and grabs Jungkook’s hands, bringing them to his chest and lessening the convulsions as he holds them tightly. Seokjin speaks clearly and slowly, so Jungkook can understand him.

“Jungkook. Listen to me. You’re going to be fine, I just need you to concentrate and breathe.”

You see the young vampire’s eyes flutter open, the deep red color once again coating his irises as his eyes roll back in his head.

No.

Please, no.

“H-he drank the m-man’s b-blood.” You sob quietly as Seokjin rubs his fingers along Jungkook’s clenched fists, trying to relax him. The eldest closes his eyes at your words, then he mutters something to himself before looking back at Jungkook. He puts a hand to his forehead and his frown deepens, “He’s burning up.”

Burning up?

A vampire?

“How’s that possible?” Yoongi asks from somewhere behind Seokjin. The older vampire shakes his head and motions to Tae, “I don’t know, but we’re losing him. Tae, can you?” The pretty blonde boy nods his head and gives you a comforting look before he puts one arm under Jungkook’s knees and the other behind his back and effortlessly lifts him out of your arms.

When Jungkook is securely cradled in his arms, the blonde turns to the eldest, “Where do we go?”

“Come with me.”

Everyone steps to the side for Seokjin and Taehyung to make their way out of the room. That’s when you see Jimin, staring at Jungkook’s now limp body in Tae’s arms, tears streaming down the boy’s face. You get up to follow them, but Yuri holds you back, not wanting you to see any more than you need to.

“No, she can come with us. We might need her.” Tae calls over his shoulder. Yuri lets you go and you see Ga-In make eye contact with you, her own shining with tears before she gives you a quick hug.

Yoongi stays behind with Ga-In and Yuri, while the rest of the group hurries after Seokjin and Taehyung. You reach the room they went in a moment ago, seeing an old cot in the corner where Jungkook is being laid.

“I need cold water, right now. As much as you can get and as cold as you can get it!” Seokjin calls to no one in particular as he rummages through one of his bags. Jimin runs out of the room instantly to get it.

Jungkook starts twitching again, his head moving side to side and his arms spasming. You watch helplessly as Tae strokes Jungkook’s hair while the boy writhes around on the cot, choking sounds now leaving his throat.

What do I do?

I don’t know what to do.

“Hey, hey. I’m here, Kookie. You’re not alone, ok?” Tae whispers gently as he continues to brush the youngest’s hair. Tae looks up at you and waves you over, you immediately come to stand by him, looking down at Jungkook.

“He’s panicking, we need to calm him down.” He informs you, then takes your hand and places it on Jungkook’s cheek. His skin is blazing hot, so contrary to the cold touch he had only days ago. You sit down on the cot by Jungkook’s chest and try to do what Tae is doing.

“Hey Jungkook, it’s Y/n. You’re gonna be all right.” You say as soothingly as you can, then you notice his breaths starting to get longer, not so short and panicked. His arms and legs are still twitching, but Tae holds them down gently.

Seokjin runs over and puts a cold rag onto his forehead after Jimin gets back with the water. Jungkook’s eyelids are fluttering, his eyes still closed.

After a few minutes of replacing the cold rag on Jungkook’s head, Seokjin puts his own head in his hands and sighs shakily. You keep brushing your thumb along his cheek, not sure if it’s really doing anything. “Is he going to be okay?” You whisper tearfully, knowing there was only so much Jin could do.

Jin takes lifts his head to look at you, “We cooled him down, but there’s nothing else we can do but wait.”

“Wait? Wait for what?”

“Him to wake up. His body was in shock. We can’t stop him from turning.”

No.

“Is he going to lose his entire self? Even the little bit he got back?” You ask breathlessly. Seokjin nods slowly, “Most likely. Right now, the best we can hope for is that he remembers us at all.”

That horrifying thought makes you look back at Jungkook, he’s settled down now and his chest is rising and falling slowly. You lean down and give him a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Please, don’t forget us.” You whisper so quietly against his skin that the others don’t even hear you.

You don’t even realize you had fallen asleep until you wake up on the freezing cement floor a few hours later. Taehyung is sitting in a chair across the room, his head leaning on the wall while he sleeps. Seokjin is sitting on the bed by Jungkook, staring at the floor, and fully awake. You sit up and wince at the soreness all over your body from the previous events and sleeping on the stone ground.

You notice that someone had put a spare jacket over you while you slept, so you slip it on and stand to walk over to Seokjin.

“How is he?” You whisper.

Seokjin looks at the youngest and sighs, “Well, he isn’t flailing around so I’m guessing that’s a good sign. It all depends on what happens when he wakes up, though.” You nod, taking a look at his sleeping face.

He seems so relaxed.

Thank goodness.

“I’m going to go and check on everyone, see how they’re holding up. Will you let me know if anything happens?” Seokjin asks you while he stands and stretches his limbs. “Of course, try to get some rest, Jin.”

He nods and pats you on the shoulder before leaving the room. You’re sure he’s been sitting here all night, watching over Jungkook. You look out the window and see the first hints of sunrise in between the trees. Smiling at the beautiful sight, you sit and watch Jungkook breathe steadily. After a quick glance back at Taehyung to confirm he’s still asleep you lean down to whisper in Jungkook’s ear, “Thank you for saving me. I’m sorry.”

You can feel the tears pricking at your eyes again, so you pull back. That’s when you notice his hands are still clenched into fists, so you reach your hand out tentatively and cover his, then you gently pull his fingers apart until you can fit your hand into his. You lace your fingers together and sit there quietly, noticing his hands are cold again. After a few minutes, you feel him squeeze your hand and you flinch in surprise.

“Jungkook?” You whisper, but he doesn’t move again. Another minute passes and he squeezes your hand for the second time. You watch his face closely and see his eyelids start to flutter. Your heart pounds in your chest from relief that he’s waking up, but also fear that he isn’t going to remember you.

And who knows what’ll happen if he doesn’t.

“Tae! Tae I think he’s waking up.” You whisper a bit loudly to the blonde boy to wake him up. Taehyung flinches, his eyes shooting open and looking over at you. You slide your hand out of Jungkook’s and wave the vampire over. Tae is on his feet the second he understands what you’re saying.

He walks over and you let him take the seat on the cot next to Jungkook. The youngest vampire’s eyes are fluttering like crazy now, then his eyes open slowly. You stand out of the way so that Tae is the first one he sees, just in case he doesn’t remember you and panics. A smile breaks out on your face when he blinks as he scrutinizes his best friend.

“Hey, Jungkookie.” Tae says softly, careful not to touch him. Jungkook blinks at him in confusion for a second and Tae frowns. “Do you remember, Kook? It’s me, Tae.” You can hear the worry in the older vampire’s voice when it cracks slightly. Your heart drops and you feel the tears slide down your face when Jungkook just stares at his best friend quietly.

Please.

“Taehyung?” Jungkook croaks out a moment later, his voice raspy and broken. Taehyung lets out a huge sigh of relief and grins at his little brother, “Yeah, it’s me. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

Tae laughs quietly and a huge smile breaks out on your face, happy tears falling now. You turn to get Jin when you hear Jungkook whisper again.

“Where’s Y/n?”

You freeze and turn to see Taehyung looking at you. He looks back down at Jungkook, “She’s safe. She’s here, did you want to see her?”

“Y/n.” Taehyung calls out to you when you turn to leave again, not sure if you can face him right now.

“Yeah?”

He sends you an encouraging smile and motions for you to go to him. You walk across the room slowly, coming up to Tae and forcing yourself to look down at Jungkook. His eyes are a little swollen and he keeps blinking slowly, as if he’s trying to fight the urge to sleep. When you come into his line of vision, his eyes immediately lock on you.

Much to your dismay, Tae stands up and offers you his seat on the side of Jungkook’s cot. You sit down as gently as you can, trying not to jostle him around on the rickety makeshift bed. When you look back up at him you notice his eyes are the usual red, not that deep color that you saw last night.

Hopefully, that’s a good sign.

“Hey, Jungkook. Are you okay?” You ask hesitantly, not quite sure how he’s going to react to you since he drank human blood.

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, that’s good-“

“Are you all right?”

You’re taken aback by his sudden question, having been fully prepared for him to be back to the rude Jungkook, or even worse. Is he really okay? Was Seokjin wrong?

You notice Tae has left the room, probably to go inform Seokjin that Jungkook is up. “Y/n…” You look back at him and give him a small smile. “Are you all right? After last night…I never got to make sure you weren’t hurt.” He says quietly.

“I’m okay, Jungkook. You scared us all.” You say, fighting the urge to take his hand again. Jungkook reaches his hand out and touches your arm lightly, dragging his fingers down it until he’s holding your wrist. Goosebumps break out where he touches you and you try to control your breathing at the feeling of his cool fingers on your skin. He looks down at your wrist and frowns when he sees the bandages Seokjin put on you from where your binds cut into you the night before. His eyes turn hard and he closes them, taking a deep breath and swallowing.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine, thanks to you.”

“It was thanks to me that you ended up in that situation in the first place.” He takes another deep breath and you see his eyes start to change color again when he opens them, his chest rising as he tries to calm himself.

Suddenly there’s a pinching feeling on your wrist and you try to pull away from his grasp. He holds on tighter before roughly letting go. You hold your wrist to your chest and watch him warily, wondering what’s going on now.

“Just-“

His eyes squeeze shut, and he clenches his fist. A growl leaves his throat and you look at him fearfully. What’s wrong? “Just get out.” He snaps.

You stand up immediately and hurry from the room. You’re not about to try to reason with him when he’s in this state. He’s obviously not well. You just hope Seokjin can help him.

“Y/n? What’s wrong, is Jungkook okay?” Seokjin asks you when you run into him and Tae in the hallway.

“I- I don’t know…He was acting fine for a few seconds, then he got mad at me again.” Jin puts a reassuring hand on your arm before passing by and making his way to the room.

You’re standing in the hall with Taehyung explaining what happened when you both hear screaming from inside the closed door. Your eyes widen as you stare at Tae with anxiety shooting through your veins, willing yourself not to run back and see what’s going on. Tae has a hand on your elbow, keeping you in your place.

Then you hear Seokjin’s voice saying something, seemingly trying to calm the other down. “What’s going on, Tae? I don’t understand.” You whisper tearfully, your mind completely shot with worry and confusion.

He just shakes his head, “I don’t know. All I know is that if he drank that man’s blood then there isn’t any hope for him. He’s a real vampire now. I’m surprised he recognized us at all, and even more that he wasn’t aggressive the moment he woke up. I don’t know what’s going to happen, or what we’re going to do.”

“Do? What do you mean do?” You snap, fear gripping your heart like a vice and all rational thought flying out of your mind. “You’re not insinuating that we leave him?” You ask in disbelief.

Tae looks back at you; shocked. Then he brings his hand to cover his eyes and whispers, “I would never leave him, not even if he woke up and tried to kill me. He’s my little brother, and I love him.” His voice shakes and you notice the tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I- I’m sorry, Tae. I didn’t mean to accuse you of that. I’m just so wound up and I panicked. I’m sorry.” You wrap your arms around him in a quick hug, smiling sadly when he returns it.

“I have to believe that he’s still in there somewhere. I have to.” Tae coughs and chokes on his tears, arms still wrapped around you while you let your own tears fall freely.

I don’t know what to believe anymore.

I’m afraid.

“Tae, I’m scared.” Your voice wavers and he hugs you tighter, “Me too.”

You pull away and wipe at your grimy face, doing your best to dry the tears. You succeed in smearing the dirt around on your cheeks and smudging the tear streaks, but not much else.

You make your way back to the others, hugging them all in turn when they each wrap their arms around you. They ramble on about how worried they were for you and how Tae tracked you and the men. You smile at Tae gratefully, knowing that they’re all trying to distract you and themselves with what’s going on with Jungkook.

You don’t tell them what happened right before Jungkook got there, the fear and disgust still raw in your mind. Ga-In hugs you tightly for a good five minutes and Yuri joins in, wrapping her arms around you both. After Hoseok passes around some sandwiches, you sit in the corner by yourself and chew slowly.

Ga-In and Yuri wanted you to eat with them, but you asked to be alone for now. You still need to process what’s going on in your mind, everything is so jumbled up and confusing and you can’t make sense of a single thing.

You know you have feelings for Jungkook, but you don’t know what they are. You do believe he was a good person before, but now? Will he be a different person forever?

You barely know him, seeing as most of the time you spent together was him lying to you. But when he acts kind and genuine, your heart won’t stop tickling. You’ve never felt anything like this for someone before, of course it had to be him. Everything is just too confusing for you. You don’t realize you’re crying again until you feel a drop on your arm. You lift your hand and you’re surprised to find your cheeks damp.

“Everyone get ready to leave. We need to make it to our safehouse before tonight.” Seokjin’s voice startles you, not expecting him to be in here. “Y/n, can I speak to you please?” You nod and pull yourself to your feet, following him out of the room and into the hallway. You unconsciously glance down the hall to where Jungkook is, a nervous feeling swirling in your tummy.

“I’m still not really sure what’s going on with him.” Seokjin starts and you look back at him. “He drank human blood, so him turning completely is inevitable. But he remembers us and he’s not acting very different. I don’t know if it’s just a slower process with him, but he freaks out one minute and then the next he’s back to the Jungkook he’s been since being bitten.”

You nod, trying to process it all in your brain. Then Seokjin’s next words make your heart leap to your throat, “He wants to talk to you. I think if anyone can figure out what’s going on, it’s you. I’ve known him for years, and I’ve known his vampire behaviors for months longer than you, but the only time he’s changed since being bitten was when you were involved. Please talk to him, Y/n.”

“Ok, I will.”

“Thank you.” He sighs with relief and you can see the tears he’s been fighting back since last night threatening to spill. “I’m going to get everything together and we’ll talk later.” You give him a thumbs up and walk to the door leading to where Jungkook is. You knock, waiting to see if he’ll say to come in. When he says nothing you just walk in, seeing him sitting on the edge of the cot and staring at his hands.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

He looks up when he hears your voice.

“Y/n.”

You walk over and sit next to him, your feet swinging above the ground when you push yourself up far on the cot.

“I was told you want to talk to me. What’s going on?” You say softly, looking into his eyes. He stares at you for a second before looking away and mumbling incoherently. You cock your head to move your ear closer to him, “I didn’t hear you.”

“I’m sorry.” He says a little clearer, fiddling with his fingers. You smile and nudge him with your shoulder, trying to get things back to the way they were when you acted like friends, even if he was pretending.

Maybe this time it can be real.

“Hey, I forgave you last night.” You chuckle, then he looks up and you stop laughing. He looks serious. “No, I need you to know how much I mean it. I was an asshole, and I took advantage of how sweet and shy you were. I took your feelings and I manipulated and hurt you.”

You swallow thickly, remembering how much it hurt when you found out he’d used you. He isn’t saying anything else, so you speak up. “I forgive you, but I do want to know something.” He nods and you continue uncertainly. “You had no regrets before. You found it funny, so why are you sorry now? Why did you start trying to act nice to me recently?”

He looks straight ahead, staring at the cement wall across the room. “That’s also something I wanted to talk to you about…I’ve felt nothing but anger for months, I found amusement in using others and hurting them and I never regretted anything I did. Until that day you found me in the woods.”

You watch him closely as he shifts awkwardly. It feels strange that he’s opening up to you now of all times and you can’t help but feel excited that maybe Seokjin and Taehyung were wrong. “I don’t know why…but when you cleaned my hands off I-…I felt weird.” There’s a little twinge in your heart when he says that, and you smile at him to keep going when he looks at you uncertainly. “I- I don’t know why I’m telling you this…I just-…I’m sorry…” You put your hands in your lap and swing your legs, “Do you want to be friends, Jungkook?” You ask kindly, making him look up at you in surprise.

“R-Really? You want to be friends?” He asks quietly.

“I asked first. Do you want to, Jungkook?” You watch him shift a little, then he nods. “Yeah, I’d like that.” You smile and hold your hand out to him, “Friends.”

You see a small smile as he takes your hand and shakes it a little before whispering, “Friends.”

~ ~

When you and Jungkook come out to the room everyone else is gathered in, they all look at you in surprise. You can sense Jungkook closing off a little every second they look at you two. You turn to give him a smile and you see his hands clenched at his side again.

“Did you guys figure out where we are and how to get to the safehouse?” You ask no one in particular, mostly just to get their attention off Jungkook. Yoongi nods and grabs his bags, putting them over his shoulders, “Yeah, we figured out where we went wrong. We should be back on track soon. And we aren’t walking anymore.”

You raise your eyebrows at this, but Hoseok just smiles at you from next to Yoongi and speaks up, “It’s a surprise. But not for much longer because it’s time to go! Come on everyone.” Everybody grabs their stuff and files out the door. You’re right behind Jimin and Jungkook is behind you, anxiously squeezing his fingers when he thinks you don’t notice.

You can tell all his older brothers are dying to smother him in affection right now, you see it in their pained expressions when he isn’t looking at them. Even Yoongi had to hold himself back from enveloping the youngest in a big hug when he first came out of the room with you. He scared everyone half to death last night, and you’re sure that it must be killing them to not be able to talk to him about it and make sure he’s okay. They’re all just pretending like it didn’t happen, probably for Jungkook’s sake.

You see some blood on the floor as you walk down the hallway, but the bodies of both men are gone, so you assume the others took them away last night. When you step outside into the brightening forest, you notice a pickup truck and a blue mini van parked by the entrance. The blue van is the one you saw come up the hill the other day and the truck’s bed is what you were in when they kidnapped you last night. You shiver at the unfriendly reminder, feeling the panic from last night seep into your chest.

“We’re taking the van. At this point, what we need is to get there faster.” Jin says as he unlocks the car doors with the keys he found on the man Jungkook bit last night. You halt for a second, confusion coming back in as you realize something.

“Wait.”

Everyone turns to you and you duck your head, suddenly embarrassed of the full attention you’re getting. “I was just wondering…if the guys we were running from are dead, why aren’t we going back to the mansion?” You say quietly, hoping it isn’t a stupid question.

Jin smiles and reassures you, “That’s a good point, Y/n. We expect that they aren’t working alone and that they told others about our home. All we can hope for right now is to make it to the safehouse before dark and before someone finds this place and knows something happened here.” You nod at that and move to climb into the car when Jin opens the back door for you. The van has a total of eight seats, three in the back, three in the middle, and two up front.

You’re about to clamber over the middle seats to reach the back when you feel a hand stop you. You turn to see Jungkook looking at his feet, then he asks, “Can I go first? I want to sit by a window.” You step aside to let him pass, “Sure.” You smile at him and he sends you a tightlipped smile before climbing over as best he can what with his long legs and all. You stifle a laugh when he falls on his butt in the back seat and grimaces in annoyance.

Then, you climb in after him. You take a seat beside him and keep a small space between you to make sure he isn’t uncomfortable. That’s when Taehyung hauls himself in next, muttering under his breath about how ‘being younger doesn’t mean he’s smaller’ as he falls onto the seat next to you. “Hey.” He grins and you give him a small wave and laugh when Ga-In scrambles in beside him.

“Scoot, scoot, scoot.” She pushes him lightly so she can fit and he moves until he’s smashed up against you, forcing you to smash up against Jungkook, who’s now crammed against the side of the car. You look at him to apologize but he seems unbothered that your hip is crushing his painfully as he just stares out the window silently. You have to be honest though…

This boy’s hip bone is sharp af.

Because ouch.

Now the four of you are so tightly fit into the backseat made for three that you’re sure buckles are no longer needed. If the car happens to crash, none of you are going anywhere with how secured all your hips are.

You watch in amusement as Yoongi climbs into the middle seat, followed by Yuri and Jimin, and lastly, Hoseok. They seem just as uncomfortably close as you four in the back are. Namjoon is definitely hiding a smug smirk as he hops in the front seat, taking a glance at the eight of you packed in the back like a can of sardines.

Seokjin climbs into the front seat and shuts the door, starting the car and turning to look at you all. “You good, guys?” He asks kindly, as if anything could be any different if you weren’t.

“Just drive please.” Yoongi whines from the right side of the middle seat as he’s up against the side door, then a chorus of laughter floats through the jammed car.

At least it isn’t walking.

~ ~

Ten minutes into the drive you try to shift your position. Jungkook’s pointy hip bone is digging right into the sensitive meat of your thigh and you’re positive it’ll bruise if you don’t try to save it now. But when you try to change your position you hear Tae mumble a super quiet ‘ouch’ and you realize you’re digging your own hip bone into his thigh.

“Sorry, Tae.” You whisper and he seems to snap out of some trance he’s put himself in as he turns to you. “Oh, no you’re fine.” He smiles reassuringly and turns back to look out the window. That’s when you notice him holding Ga-In’s hand tightly, playing with her fingers with his other hand absentmindedly.

Oh no, how freaking adorable.

You almost combust right then and there from pure happiness when you hear something to your right. It sounds like someone whispering. You turn to Jungkook, thinking he’s trying to tell you something, then see he’s still staring out the window as he mutters to himself.

His hands are clenched into fists again and on his thighs, rubbing up and down as if he’s trying to calm himself. You have the sudden urge to hold his hands and tell him he’s okay, but you’re not sure if he’d be alright with that so you stay still, folding your hands on your lap instead.

“No, no, no, no.” Jungkook mumbles so quietly that only you can hear what he’s saying, and even then, you have a hard time catching it all.

“Stop, just stop.” You feel a painful pull in your heart at his words. You don’t know what he’s talking about, but whatever it is, it’s stressing him out.

Jungkook blinks hard several times, as if his eyes are dry and itchy, then he keeps rubbing his fists along his legs, knees bumping up and down.

“I…I c-can’t…” He keeps whispering, staring out at the blur of trees passing by. You don’t think you can stand another second of this without at least trying to help him, so you lean your head on his shoulder and place your hand on his forearm. It feels a bit awkward, seeing as you’ve never done this to a boy before. You’ve never even been this close to a boy before so it’s not like you have any experience at all.

You try to think of it like you’re just helping a friend to calm down, which is exactly what you’re doing. But you can’t stop your heart from pounding heavily in your ears at the proximity. Jungkook slowly stops bouncing his legs, and his hands just rest on his thighs, clenched but unmoving. You close your eyes and try to ignore the pain in your thigh from his hip, forcing your muscles to relax as the car bumps up and down on the dirt road. You start to fall asleep, Jungkook’s anxious mumbling the last thing you can hear.

“…shut up...shut up, shut up…”

~ ~

“Y/n? We’re here. Jungkook? Wake up you two.”

You peel your eyes open and see the back of Yuri’s head in the seat in front of you, then you turn to the side and see Taehyung smiling. Your head is still on Jungkook’s shoulder, so you slowly lift it up and rub your eyes.

“Can you wake him up? We’re getting out in a second.” Tae says while he looks at Jungkook across you. “Yeah.” You mumble tiredly and turn to Jungkook. He’s curled up against the window with his neck in an uncomfortable position as he breathes deeply.

“Hey, wake up.” You say as softly as you can and gently tap him on the shoulder. He doesn’t budge, it’s almost like he’s dead with how still he is. So, you try a different tactic. You rub his arm, up and down and whisper his name until he starts to shift. Then his eyes shoot open and he flinches.

“Hey, you’re okay.” You reassure him quickly and he rubs his eyes before blinking at you. “What’s going on?” He rasps quietly, confusion lacing his tired voice.

“We made it to the safehouse.” You inform him as Seokjin opens the side door and Hoseok practically falls out of the car. Jimin, Yuri, and Yoongi quickly follow suit behind him in their haste to get out.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Ga-In breathes in relief when it’s her turn to escape. “Tae, you have the boniest hips I’ve ever encountered.” She says as she starts to climb out. He laughs loudly and you notice him turn away when she crawls over the seats as gracefully as she possibly can in this situation.

What a gentleman he is.

Then Tae scoots away from you when there’s space and you almost gasp with relief when your cramped limbs can finally move again. Everything must’ve gone numb at some point during the drive, because you feel all tingly and sore when you grab the top of the seats to crawl out after him. Hoseok is outside of the car, helping everyone step down. He takes your hand and smiles at you sweetly as he helps you out.

“Thank you.” You smile at him, then you hear a huff from behind you. You turn to see Jungkook glowering at you and Hoseok from the back seat. “Just hurry up and let me get out.” He snaps grumpily.

He’s acting like a little kid that just woke up from a nap.

You step aside and hold back a laugh when Hoseok wiggles his eyebrows at you at Jungkook’s behavior. “I don’t need help.” You hear Jungkook grumble and turn to see him smack Hoseok’s outstretched hand away as he scrambles out of the car. You frown at that, but then you see the older boy holding back a smile at the youngest’s attitude, so he must not be too offended.

When Jungkook is out, he slams the door shut and turns to go. He sees his hyung send you a wink as you chuckle and he grinds his teeth, shoving past you and Hoseok and stalking up the path. You walk behind him, wondering why he’s so upset. Maybe he’s just tired.

The safehouse is up a hill like the mansion was, so you follow everyone as they walk up. It takes about five minutes to make it to the top, then you see a house in the forest. It’s more secluded than the first one was, hidden away in the trees so you can only see a little bit of the front. When you come up to it, you walk up the rickety old porch, cringing at the loud creaking sounds it makes. This house must be even older than the last one.

You walk inside and see everyone running around and checking it out. The stairs groan loudly as Jimin flies up them to look at the upstairs. Seokjin grabs a few bags and heads right to the kitchen, calling out over his shoulder for everyone to unpack and come to the kitchen for dinner in a little bit. You follow Jimin up the stairs, praying they won’t give out underneath you, then you walk down a hallway similar to the mansions.

Jimin pops out of a random room and smiles at you, “The biggest room is the last door on the right. You girls go ahead and take that one.” Then he hurries away to keep exploring the other bedrooms. You chuckle quietly at him and make your way to the last door on the right. When you walk in you see a room slightly smaller than your last one, and there’s one big bed right in front of you, facing the door. There’s no bathroom in this room, but a little vanity sits on the right side of the room and a little dresser on the left.

You’re sure all three of you girls can fit in the bed, it’s the biggest bed you’ve ever seen. You take the bottom of the three drawers, putting your few items of clothing in it and then you set your bag down next to it. You’re just leaving the room when you see the door right across from yours open and Jungkook walks out.

“Hey! Is that your room?” You ask excitedly when you see him. He looks at you and nods slowly, “Yeah, I was going to take it if no one else did.” You nod and walk beside him down the hallway back to the stairs.

“We have one big bed, so we’re all going to share it. I’m excited because it looks so comfy and fluffy.” You laugh quietly while you two walk down the stairs. Jungkook makes a sound to show he was listening, but he doesn’t seem to care so you stop talking. You follow him out the back door, not knowing where else to explore, so you just decide to stick with him for now.

Jungkook watches Ga-In and Taehyung as they sit in the grass and talk. “You okay, Jungkook?” You ask quietly, seeing him kind of blanking out. He nods and turns to go back inside. You follow him in and all the way to the kitchen, where Seokjin is cooking.

“Dinner is ready. Can you please tell everyone?” The eldest asks you and you nod before running to get the others. Jungkook stays in the kitchen and watches Seokjin stir the soup he whipped up quickly.

“You feeling all right there, Kook?” He asks softly, watching the younger carefully. Jungkook nods mutely, then he sits in a chair at the table, picking at his fingernails.

“Jungkook.” Jin walks over and crouches down in front of him to make Jungkook look at him. “I know you can’t eat it, it’s alright. What can I do to help you?” The youngest feels himself getting irritated, for no apparent reason, so he rolls his eyes and looks away. “I can take care of myself. I’m not hungry anyway.” Jin sighs and stands up to start putting the soup into bowls.

“Don’t push me away, Kook. Just accept some help once in a while.”

Jungkook huffs and runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek. Then he looks up and sees you hopping into the kitchen, Jimin right behind you hopping as well. He stares at you in confusion as you laugh and hop over to the chair next to him and plop down, Jimin almost tripping as he tries to beat you to one. A second later Yoongi comes hopping into the kitchen, a concentrated scowl on his face.

“You guys cheated, you little shits.”

You and Jimin burst into laughter and Seokjin turns to see what all the fun is about. “What are you fools up to?” He says in fond suspicion.

“Y/n bet us that she could beat us to the kitchen while hopping.” Jimin pipes up from his seat, all smiles and giggles. You nod and pat yourself on the back, “And I was right!” Jin laughs as he puts a bowl of soup in front of you.

“You guys need to stop having all the fun without me, you punks. Where is everyone else?”

“They’re coming.” Yoongi says right before Yuri, Namjoon, and Hoseok walk in and hurry to the table. Ga-In and Tae are right behind them.

When everyone is seated and served, the table is full of laughter and smiles as everyone thanks Jin and start eating and talking. Except for one. You look to your right and see Jungkook slouching in his chair and staring at the ground under the table. When everyone is distracted elsewhere you lean closer to him and whisper, “You okay?” He looks up at you, an annoyed expression painting his features. You lean back to your original position and frown, “Sorry.”

Jungkook stands up roughly, his chair scraping the ground and making you jump from his sudden movements. Seokjin is immediately setting his spoon down and looking at Jungkook worriedly, “Hey, are you all right?”

“Can everyone just stop fucking asking me that already??” Jungkook raises his voice and stomps out of the room. You hear the front door slam and the mood at the table sinks instantly.

Jungkook slams the front door and walks down the porch steps, making his way into the forest. His mind is spinning and confusing him further. Whenever he looks at you he feels something inside of him. It’s making him confused. It’s making him annoyed. There’s a weird feeling in his stomach when he pictures you hopping into the kitchen and smiling. Then it’s replaced with anger. And hatred.

“Fucking stupid. She’s annoying and stupid.” He mutters to himself as he walks deeper into the dark woods. He freezes when he hears some leaves rustle, snapping his head to the side to see a squirrel running along the ground.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s grabbed it and has his teeth in it, sucking the blood from the animal and killing it instantly.

Jungkook throws the dead squirrel on the ground and curses. It used to be enough. It isn’t enough. He tries to take a few calming breaths but he can’t seem to settle his mind.

This is all because of her.

Jungkook looks around, then he growls and kicks at the ground, tempted to plug his ears.

Ever since she came, nothing was easy.

But plugging his ears won’t make it stop.

You know what would be good?

“Just fuck off, Gosh, shut the fuck up!” Jungkook screams and grabs a rock to hurl it at a nearby tree. It bounces off and lands on the ground with a soft thud.

You know what it is. I know you do.

“I’m not listening. I’m not listening to you.”

Her.

“No.”

She would taste amazing.

“Stop it.”

Just think about it.

“Go away.”

You know the animal blood is tasteless now. Useless.

“No, it isn’t.”

Oh, but it is. Human blood would taste so much better.

Jungkook swallows thickly and shakes his head.

Her blood would taste so much better.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Or what? You know I’m right.

“You’re wrong.”

Right.

“Wrong.”

You’re a monster, why keep denying it?

Another growl leaves his throat and he sinks to the ground, crouching and grabbing handfuls of grass to pull on.

It would be so easy. She isn’t a very bright one.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, he just pulls at the grass over and over again.

Just think about it, sinking your teeth into her neck and-

“Please just go away.” He whispers brokenly.

You know I can’t.

Just a small taste, come on. She would be so sweet-

“Get the fuck away from me, I’ll fucking kill you!”

He stands up and kicks a small rock, sending it flying through the forest when he screams.

“I- I’m sorry. I just wanted to see if…”

Jungkook whirls around when he hears a small voice, then he sees you standing there and watching him fearfully.

Just a small taste.

Come on...

...monster.

__________________________________________________________

a/n: hope you liked it ;-; also I found JK x Y/N’s song and I’m crying it’s too scarily perfect.

Tag list: @jjungkook99 @ditttiii @fekitza @rubinora @xxxanimangxxx @mygukandonly @elliegrace1999tvd @nikikookie @karissassirak @howbizarre @lettersforjoon

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kylorengarbagedump · 5 years ago

Text

Impulsive and Idiotic (NSFW)

Read on AO3.

Summary: In your memory, there was a massive, crater-sized hole in Hux's chest, smoke billowing out of it in pillars. But you knew that couldn’t be true--after all, in this same memory, you, a complete stranger to him, rushed and crumbled at his side, and pressed your hand to the wound, seeking out life in his eyes.

Words: 3800

Warnings: Face-fucking

Characters: Armitage Hux x Reader

A/N: I had promised my very good friend @tonictransistor a fix-it fic if Hux ended up possibly biting the bullet in Episode IX. So, Tora, here you go. This is the scene that ended up on the cutting room floor, along with all of the other good parts of the movie, probably (hyuck hyuck hyuck).

I love you so much. I hope this eases your pain, a bit. And I hope any other Hux lovers enjoyed it, as well. <3

“I found the mole.”

You weren’t sure if you heard the blaster go off before or after those words. Adrenaline had fueled you so completely you couldn’t even reconstruct the minutes prior to the shot--who was there, what they had been saying to you. All you can recall is watching, stone-still, as General Hux was blown back, collapsing in a limp, sparking heap only feet away from you. In your memory, there was a massive, crater-sized hole in his chest, smoke billowing out of it in pillars. But you knew that couldn’t be true--after all, in this same memory, you, a complete stranger to him, rushed and crumbled at his side, and pressed your hand to the wound, seeking out life in his eyes.

“Sir!” You cupped his cheek, forcing his line of sight in your direction. “Sir, are you okay?”

The General groaned, hissing through clenched teeth and struggling to focus on who had come to his aid. “What are you doing?” His voice was decibels above a whisper. “Get me out of here, already!”

Heat searing your face, you nodded. “Yes, sir, General.”

The control room had already resumed operations, the rest of the officers seemingly content to continue with duties while a body of a General lay on the ground. Allegiant General Pryde had discarded thoughts of Hux seconds after shooting him--you could no longer even find him in the room. Glancing around, you seemed to be the only person on the Steadfast remotely concerned. You held your breath, forcing your hands under Hux’s shoulders, hoping to guide him to his feet, but he growled.

“No,” he said. “Not like that. Drag me. Let them think I’m dead.”

You balked. “Uh, General--”

“Drag me.”

“Yes--uh, yes, sir.”

At that, Hux went limp. You grasped his wrists, bending at the knees to make your job a little simpler, and pulled. He winced--the blaster shot hadn’t killed him, but it didn’t look comfortable, either. To your surprise, he was lighter than you anticipated, but still functioned as Lighter-Than-Anticipated dead weight. After a few seconds of pulling, your grip slipped, and you squealed, tumbling onto your ass.

“General, please…”

Hux’s face twinged. Panicking, you scrambled to your feet, snatching his wrists again--this time, his hands grabbed your wrists, too. You weren’t sure how much blood needed to flood your face for it to change color, but at this point, you had about half of your supply there.

Steeling yourself, you pulled again, throwing most of the work to your legs, and Hux glided across the glossy floor--within seconds, you’d both crossed through the blast doors, into the emptier hallway, where you continued to drag him.

“We’ll be at the medbay in a few moments, General,” you whispered. “It’s only--”

“Don’t be stupid,” he said. “We’re not going to the medbay.”

You swallowed. “We’re not?”

“No.” His voice was tight. “Get to an emergency pod.”

“Oh,” you said. “We’re escaping now, sir?”

“Pryde... doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Hux replied. “I’m not going to--argh--stick around and watch him fail at my own expense.”

“Right.” You didn’t want to make him talk any longer than necessary. But there was one last thing. “So, uh, where are the emergency, like, escape ships, again?”

Hux’s neck twisted when he tried to meet your gaze from the ground. “You don��t know where the escape vessels are?”

Forcing a smile, you shook your head. “No?”

He looked toward the ceiling with a sigh. “Of course, my only ally is an imbecile.”

You blinked. Was he serious? “Oh, I’m sorry, General,” you said. “Next time, maybe you can just drag yourself out of being shot point-blank.”

“I’m perfectly capable of it.”

“You’re perfectly capable of dragging yourself?” you replied, continuing to drag him in a random direction. “You sure seemed like it.”

“Let me go.” Hux jerked away, but you clutched hard to his arms. “Let me go!”

Gritting your teeth, you released him. “Fine!” This wasn’t going as you anticipated. You knew Hux to be prickly, but this was beyond stubborn.

Hux huffed, rolling over and seething as he balanced himself on his hands and knees. The bandage on his leg continued to darken with his blood, and his torso seemed as if it had been seared, blackened. He must have been in incredible pain. Yet you wouldn’t know it--he steadied himself in silence, wobbling while he brought himself to two feet.

You watched, mouth agape, unable to avoid staring at his red hair falling, tousled, across his forehead, the flushing of his cheeks that so resembled what you’d imagined many times prior to this moment. His lips, full and soft, were parted in a mixture of effort and frustration, his eyes wild with determination. Those eyes met your own, immobilizing you, and he smirked.

“I didn’t request your help, offi--” Hux stumbled before he finished his sentence, cursing himself as his knees hit the floor.

You sighed. “Come on, General,” you said. “I’ll get you there.”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah, obviously,” you sneered. And then, softer: “Please, sir.”

Hux leered at you, grappling with the smooth steel walls, bringing himself to stand again, and you were at his side, his arm draped over your shoulder. This closeness churned your stomach with some form of insect. Butterflies seemed inappropriate. You balanced him, curling an arm around his waist. He stepped, and you followed. To his credit, he was mostly correct--for the extent of his injuries, he was depending very little on your support.

“Escape vessels are located on every floor, near the turbolifts,” he said. “We’ll use my code to access them.”

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Do you know how to fly a ship?”

A pause. “Uh…”

“Do you know anything about your job, officer?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, frowning. “But I only started on the Steadfast a few…” You paused. As anxiously as you wanted his approval, for as long as you’d been pining for it, you weren’t willing to get it by justifying yourself. “Is part of your job description getting shot, General? If so, you’re really exceeding expectations today.”

Hux tensed against you, but said nothing. “The vessels are mostly auto-pilot.”

“Yes, sir,” you said. “Just tell me where to set it for when we get there.”

The both of you hobbled together, Hux’s labored breathing filling the halls. You glanced at his torso. His black uniform hid the severity of his wound--but the gleaming of the fabric under the ship’s lights told you all you needed to know. It was wet. A terrified breath shivered in your chest. For the few weeks you’d been on the Steadfast, you’d grown… attached to the General. A crush seemed too childish to describe it, but the reality of your distant admiration seemed to leave it as the only appropriate term. It wasn’t just his beauty--though, of course, that had been a factor. It was his cunning, his wit. His sense of humor was dry and sharp, his expertise undermined by Pryde and Ren.

You couldn’t believe you were so close to him, now, that you were the one escorting him to escape. Of course, you trusted his judgement--but the level of damage he’d sustained concerned you. It would be awful to have to watch him die.

The next corner you turned, you were greeted by a massive, locked door with an emergency warning plastered over it. How had you missed these? Hux grunted, flinging himself off of you and against the wall, gasping for air as he typed away at the security pad. You winced, reaching for him, but he swatted you away. He finished, and the lights in the hall flickered red, turbolifts on either side of you stalling as their alarms cut through the air.

“Uh, General?”

Hux growled. “They killed my access.”

“What?”

“Don’t make me repeat everything I say.”

“What are we going to do, though, sir?” You peeked around the corners--two lines of troopers were marching toward the origin of the alarm. “Sir?”

“What?” he snarled, shooting you a glare.

“Troopers are coming.”

Hux turned back toward the pad, typing in something else. “You must enjoy pointing out the obvious.”

“Oh, is that obvious?” you replied. “Incredible eyesight you have, General.”

“Of course it’s obvious, you fool.” He finished another code--nothing happened. “Troopers are trained to respond to any unsanctioned use of an emergency pod.”

“I have a feeling you weren’t expecting this to be unsanctioned.”

A muscle in his jaw tensed. “Every one of my codes is decommissioned.” Gaze narrowing, he slammed his fist against the wall. “I’ll just use Ren’s.”

Your eyes widened. “The Supreme Leader’s?” you asked. “You know his codes?”

“Of course I do,” Hux replied coolly, typing them in. “What kind of mole would I be if I didn’t?”

Concern nagged the back of your head. “Aren’t you worried about when he finds out you used his codes to escape?”

He snorted. “He’s as likely as the rest of us to end up dead before the end of this cycle.” With that, he hit enter, and the alarms stopped.

The door whined when it opened, revealing the interior to a tiny, cube-shaped pod with multiple seating options. You glimpsed around the corner again--the troopers were closing in--seeing your face, they started running. One of them shouted out to you, ordering you to stop. Grimacing, you grabbed Hux’s shoulder, ignoring his protests, and pulled him into the ship. You both toppled on one of the rows of seating, and you clambered to the control panel, regarding it with complete resignation.

“Hit the button.” Hux crawled toward you, hampered by the wound in his chest.

“What button, sir?” There were a dozen buttons in front of you.

“Stop!”

You turned around--the troopers had you in their sights, their blasters raised.

“The button!” he said, pointing to a huge red button in the center of the console.

“Don’t move!” a trooper shouted.

You looked at Hux and dove, slamming your palm on the button--the doors flew shut, and you were thrown as the ship jettisoned forward, peeling away from the Steadfast using the two massive thrusters at its sides. The Star Destroyer became miniscule within a blink, and then the thrusters fell off, leaving smaller ion drives in control. The pod’s systems beeped, lights on the console awakening, and a prompt on the dash requested to know a destination.

“Where are we going, sir?” You glanced at Hux, who had deflated into his seat, face pale. Heart skipping, you leapt to his side, nudging him gently. His eyes, tired, met your own. “General?”

“I’m fine, officer.” His jaw was firm. “Just set a course for Arkanis.”

“Where’s that?”

He groaned. “Must you constantly remind me of how ignorant you are?”

You were growing weary of his snark. “I don’t have to put in anything on that prompt, you know.”

“Discipline must be lacking in your unit,” he replied with a frown.

“If it is, it can only be the fault of those above me.”

Flouncing, you moved to the console and answered the prompt. The ship accepted it, and the engines whirred in response, controls moving independently. A long, quiet breath leaked from your nose, tension leaving with it. There was a desire to sit, but you resisted it, still too nervous to make yourself vulnerable. Why did you keep bickering with him? Fear nagged that you were driving him away; the silence in the ship worming its way into your mind. You were alone with General Hux, now--and you could swore you felt his stare sticking to you.

“Tell me your name.”

Blushing, you spun, meeting his gaze. “Uh…” His curiosity seemed sincere. So you gave it to him.

He repeated it--somehow, it sounded superior on his tongue. “You’ve been serving the First Order for how long?”

“A few years, now, General.”

“Hm.” He paused, attention dipping to the floor and then back to you. “You may call me Armitage.”

You nodded. “Yes, sir, uh, Armitage.” Pinching your lips between your teeth, you shrugged, sitting an arm’s length from him on the bench, trying to ignore his wound. “Do you want me to look for medical supplies, or…”

He rolled his eyes. “No.” A sharp breath left him, and he winced. “This requires more than a few pitiful salves.”

“You want to be in pain?”

Armitage’s expression was as hard as iron, and even colder. “There are worse trials than physical pain.”

The intensity of his gaze sent goosebumps racing over your skin. You swallowed, sitting back. “Well,” you said. “I’m glad that I, uh, could help you.”

“Your reaction was impulsive and idiotic.” He held your stare for a moment, then dropped it. “But I suppose that without you, I’d be in danger of being blown up along with everyone else on that ship.”

You tried to suppress your smile. “You really think everyone’s about to get blown up?”

He sneered. “I don’t think,” he replied, “I know. Ren is a reckless fool. Pryde is too arrogant to see past his own brown nose.” Armitage settled into his seat. “Even if there was, by any measurable degree, a victory, neither of them are prepared to wield any level of power. Ren would self-destruct, and Pryde would split his own skull trying to stop it.”

A surge of attraction pulsed through you. You’d spent hours fantasizing about exactly this--sitting near Hux, hearing him speak, being entrusted with his thoughts. Yes, you’d had some verbal spats--but some part of you suspected that he liked it. A blessing. You liked it, too.

Face burning, you scooted nearer, and he hesitated, regarding you with suspicion. His eyes flickered over your frame, and after a moment, he softened. You inched toward him again, now close enough to touch his face.

“You know,” you said, looking between him and your hands, “I always thought it was ridiculous they installed Pryde as Allegiant General when they have you.”

Armitage’s lip twitched, almost imperceptibly. “It was because Ren didn’t trust me.” His gaze shifted to the wall. “But, like almost everything else he’s done since he became Supreme Leader, it’s hollow. Pryde is no less power-hungry than Ren is himself.”

You cocked your head. “How did he become Supreme Leader, anyway?”

“A coup,” he replied. He made it seem so simple--but you still couldn’t understand. Noticing your confusion, he continued. “Ren killed Leader Snoke while I was out cold. I had no say in the matter.”

“He… killed him?”

“Yes, though he fancies himself a good liar.” Armitage smirked. “Leader Snoke was just as flawed.” He finished his thought with a slight shrug. “None of those cretins have any clue how to run an effective government. The First Order would’ve tumbled into flames with any of them at the helm regardless.”

Discussing his criticisms of the Order was bringing life into his face--and you relished it. “You should’ve been Supreme Leader.”

At this, he froze. He locked you in his stare, jaw stern, brow drawn. You were paralyzed, chest tightening, mind fluttering with panic. What had you said that was so wrong? Averting his eyes, you made to distance yourself, but his hand shot out, seizing your wrist.

He swallowed. “Say it again.”

Mouth dry, you blinked. “You… should’ve been Supreme Leader?”

A shiver rippled over his body. His lips trembled. “Say it. Again.”

“You should’ve… been Supreme Leader.”

Armitage tugged you closer, scrutinizing you, ferreting out evidence of deception. “You truly believe that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Supreme Leader should’ve been mine.”

“Yes, yes, sir.”

He brought his mouth inches from yours, examining every detail of your expression. His breath tickled warmth over your skin, his grip on your wrist crushing. “Perhaps you’re not as ignorant as I presumed,” he murmured.

“It’s about time I heard you say that,” you replied.

“Would’ve been easier to determine if you hadn’t spent all your time floundering around.”

“Says the man with multiple blaster wounds in his body.”

Armitage drew even closer. A slight shift, and your lips would meet. Your throat was thick, heart thrumming loud in your ears. If you remembered to breathe, it would have been a miracle; your full attention had focused on the angles of his face, the turbulent green of his eyes, the coppery lock of hair still crested over his forehead. Palms sweating, you went to speak--and were silenced, hungrily, by his mouth.

A whimper escaped you, and you melted into his grip, returning the kiss with a desperation that almost embarrassed you. His teeth scraped your lower lip, his tongue fighting its way into your mouth as you moaned. Armitage was furious, voracious, consuming you like a sunburst--hot and sudden and fast. His hand moved from your wrist to your face, weaving through your hair only to tug it like reins. You squeaked in pain--and he did it again, now eliciting a wail. This would’ve, in theory, broken the kiss, but his ferocity consumed you, swallowing your cries like a storm. He nipped your lower lip again and released you with a gasp.

“Tell me you need me.”

Nodding, you replied, “I need you, Gene--”

“No,” he said. “Call me Supreme Leader.”

Heat crashed over you. “I need you,” you whispered, “Supreme Leader.”

Growling, he kissed you again, attempting to push you back--but he flinched and retreated, grasping at the wound on his chest. It was only then that you were able to see how ruddy his cheeks had become, how flush with desire he appeared--and you saw, too, the tent between his legs, the evidence of his need for you.

Armitage grunted, drawing in a long breath through his nose as he waited for the quakes of pain to subside. He looked between his hidden erection and you, pausing, before tearing at his pants, pulling free his thick, throbbing cock. It was bigger than you expected--and far prettier than you had imagined. It curved like a scimitar toward his abdomen, the head pink with blood and shiny with cum. You swallowed again, mouth watering while you pictured running your tongue along the shaft.

Shoulders swelling with anticipation, he fisted his member, soft pants escaping his chest while he jerked himself. His eyes, glittering flames of emerald, watched you burn for it. “I can tell from looking at you that you want to suck me off,” he said. “Don’t you?”

You squeezed your thighs together, putting pressure on your aching clit. And yet, you couldn’t resist. “I don’t know,” you replied. “Are you sure you trust me with such a complicated task?”

“Don’t be a tease,” he growled.

Holding your breath, you dipped low, careful to avoid any of his wounds as you hovered over his length. “I’m not sure,” you said, and brushed your lips across the tip. “Is this how you do it, Supreme Leader?”

“Stupid girl--” Armitage hissed, clawing at your scalp. He held you still, trying to fuck up into your mouth, but his very first thrust had him keen in pain.

Snickering, you were somehow elated. “I’m just too stupid to figure out how to suck your dick, sir.” You dragged your tongue up the underside of his member, grazing your lips on the head, cleaning the drop of pre-cum that had beaded there. “Am I doing it right?”

“Brat.” He curled his fingers in your hair, driving your head down. “Be good and suck your Supreme Leader’s cock.”

With a smirk, you relented, dropping your jaw and sliding his cock into your mouth until the head hit the back of your throat. Humming against him, you wrapped your lips around the shaft and groaned, his flesh hot silk on your tongue. You felt his heartbeat thump at the base of his length, like a drum tracking his desire to cum. He controlled your movements, bobbing your head up and down, pushing you deep onto his dick and pulling you up for air.

You focused on your breath--you wanted him to whimper, wanted for him to shudder with pleasure, wanted for him to know how long you’d dreamed of this. Twisting your neck, you fought to seek his eyes, but the angle and his grip on your hair made it impossible. Instead, you moaned--loud and lewd, slobbering globs of spit with each squelching thrust, gagging for effect, matching and exceeding the speed of his hands. Armitage tried, in vain, to slow you, but you were driven by lust, fingers wiggling between your legs to tease your clit, groaning again when your nerves lit up like lightning.

“F-fuck--” he sputtered, “slow down.” When you failed to obey, he ripped you off of his dick, and you heaved in a breath, forced to meet his gaze. “Slow. Down.”

“What is it, Supreme Leader?” You grinned, drawing your tongue over your lip. “You can’t handle me?”

Baring his teeth, Armitage said nothing, instead choosing to shove you onto your knees. His hands squeezed you steady, and he sucked in a breath before standing, a quick sob of pain escaping his chest before he rammed his cock deep into your mouth. He grunted, fucking your face, lip curling in a twist of fury and greed, watching your eyes fill with tears as drool dribbled down your chin. You retched, sniveling while you endured his onslaught, fighting to relax your throat so that you didn’t actually vomit.

“That’s right...” His voice was ragged, tattered with pleasure and pain. “Fuck… fuck--”

You slicked your fingers over your clit again, and hummed in delight, fluttering your lashes-- and somehow, this was enough. Armitage gasped, driving into you, dick twitching and pulsing on your tongue as he spilled hot cum down your throat, his legs quaking with the effort. You swallowed, waiting for him to release you--and he finally crumpled, falling into his seat, lungs gulping down air. Sweat beaded his brow, his hair mussed now beyond repair, but on his face, there was a wash of relief. Of freedom.

Wiping your mouth, you snuck a seat next to him, watching as his mind returned to the reality you both occupied. Sighing, a smirk crept onto your face. “I’d say you’re having a decent day for someone who’s been shot twice.”

Armitage glanced askance at you, but you kept your grin, too pleased with your own joke. After a moment, his facade cracked, and the hint of a smile flashed over his face. He caught himself and cleared his throat, pushing fingers through his hair.

“Well,” he said, “you’re likely not an imbecile.”

“Really!” you replied, laughing. “I’ve redeemed myself.”

His face relaxed, and he nodded.

“You have,” he said. “You have.”

#armitage hux x reader #armitage hux imagine #hux x reader #hux imagine #armitage hux #hux #armitage hux smut #star wars smut #impulsive and idiotic #I actually wrote a hux fic #it was driven by love!!!!#never say never I guess #nerd whinings #fanfiction problems

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blahblahwritings · 5 years ago

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Contracts and Captains. I.

A/N: Well, I’ve found it only takes a pandemic and a lockdown to get me to write again. I’ve started watching Black Sails and I love it I’m almost on season three. I can’t find many flint x reader fics so I’ll do it myself. I have far too much work to do for University but heres the first chapter of a possible longer fic I want to work on. Knowing me and my unreliable updates lets see how this goes. lmao.

Words: 1818.

Warnings: Blood, Violence. Probably will have smut in later chapters I’m thirsty. Also I’m going for a Flint fic I don’t know how it will end up. Might end up with a Billy fic who knows tbh.

Nassau, 1715.

The caribbean sun beating down was perishing. The bustling crowds filtering through the streets left little reprieve from the heat and you felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of your neck. Humid air filled your struggling lungs, leaving you almost suffocated as you trudged through the side passage of a building. Shade gave you a moment to rest, back leaning against the cool brick, panting. This would have been like any other day you’d had in Nassau, the heat, the crowds, the humidity, but, that wasn’t the only reason you were gasping for breath, sweating or stumbling.

Under your jacket, a pool of deep red was quickly flooding the loose shirt you wore. A white hot pain sliced through the right side of your abdomen, far hotter than the sun. It was the result of a contract gone wrong. A long wheeze escaped your lungs as you pushed off from the wall. You had to keep going. You had to get to Eleanor Guthrie.

Your vision was blurring, the loss of blood taking its toll as every step made the idea of passing out more agreeable. A low growl of frustration left you as you fell against a stack of wooden boxes, the clatter turning more heads than you’d like. So close to the tavern, if your senses had been in order, you’d have smelled the stench of ale and rum, heard the laughter of patrons. All you felt was the throbbing in your side, you smelled the coppery tinge of blood and heard the rushing of what little blood was probably left in your ears. Your chest shook with staggered breathing, your stare stuck on a spot in front of you, your legs outstretched as a hand clutched your wound. A pathetic sight. Weak. That voice in your head spat insults at you. How could you die like this, in a heap in an alley outside a tavern, a stab wound from a simple contract.

You took in a laboured breath, and, with every last drop of energy, you pulled yourself to your feet. You crashed through the wooden doors of the building, gripping to anything to keep you upright. The laughter trailed off, the music came to a halt, all eyes were on you. Lifting your head, you found the stare of none other than Eleanor Guthrie as she rushed over to you. A wry smile made its way to your face as she reached you.

“Ma’am” You spluttered before collapsing, unconscious before you’d even collided with the hard floor.

---

The vague memory of a dream was washed away by the screeching sound of gulls and a layer of sweat coating your body as a white room came into view. The sunlight streaming in from the open windows caused an instant ache behind your eyes. Groaning, you tried to turn away when a sharp pain shot through your torso. Sucking in a breath through your teeth, you returned to the position your back. A light sheet covered you from the chest down, your shirt nowhere to be found. Your pants, however, remained. Turning your head, you found a new shirt, clean and folded neatly on a chair next to the bed alongside your boots. Throwing the sheet aside, you examined your abdomen, finding it wrapped in a bandage, a small red stain peeking through. Slowly, you sat up, moving so your feet were on the floor and reached to grab the shirt, pulling it over your head.

A note floated down, landing beside your boots. Your brow twitched into confusion before righting itself. Bending forwards, your breath hitched as the stabbing pain worsened for a moment before dulling to a throb. Grasping the note, you began to read.

‘Miss Devereux,

Miss Guthrie would like to speak with you at once. Please make your way to her office as soon as you wake.

Mr Scott.’

An exhaustive sigh left you. This won’t be good. Putting your boots on and standing, you wondered how long you had been unconscious. Your wound had been cleaned and bandaged but the rest of you was still covered in old dirt and sweat. You looked at the basin by the window, contemplating at least getting the worst of it off. Fuck it. You thought as you moved towards the door, if she wants to see me at once she will.

You approached the closed door to her office, one of Hornigold’s men standing guard. He gave you a pitiful look.

“Is she that bad?” You asked, voice low. His lips pulled into a thin line as his eyes moved to yours for a moment before returning to the drunks below. Taking a deep breath you opened the door, not even bothering to knock.

A man in a long black coat, jaw-length brown hair and a red beard sat at the desk opposite Eleanor. Her eyes found yours and suddenly turned very dark. He turned to look at you, eyes scanning you in curiosity. “You wanted to see me, ma’am.” You stated, eyes never leaving hers.

“Captain Flint, I must speak with Miss Devereux, would you give us the room?” Her voice was short, she was pissed. Glancing between the two of you, the captain stood, moving past you.

“Good day, miss Guthrie, miss.. Devereux.” He nodded before disappearing completely. The door shut behind you leaving you to likely be torn limb from limb by the woman still standing across the desk. You had your reasons to be angry too. Silence. Only her heavy breathing could be heard. You opened your mouth to speak when she beat you to it.

“What the fuck happened?” She spat. You scoffed.

“Why, miss Guthrie I’m very well despite being stabbed by the madman you had me track down and watch, thank you for asking.” You snarled stepping toward her.

“Don’t give me that. What. Happened.”

“Well if you really want to know, I was tailing him perfectly fine, I found out what you needed and probably would have even gotten more for you had you told me he was going to be guarded by a group of degenerates. They tipped him off to me following him and I lost him before we got to the beach, I was dragged off by his dogs and ended up having to take most of them down and then he came back, asking why I was watching him and who I worked for. When I didn’t say anything, he took a swing. You know the rest.” You explained with a sneer, plonking yourself into the chair in front of her desk with only a slight wince.

“What a royal fuck up. Now he knows someone is after his plans, do you know the repercussions this could have on me? On us?” She bent over the table, sinking to your level.

“Oh so it’s ‘us’ now is it? I thought I was just a means to an end, last we spoke. Nothing more than a set of skills for hire.” You growled. She pulled back and turned to look out the window.

“You are a valuable asset to this place, to me. You care about the future of this place as much as I do, as does Captain Flint.” She trailed off. A sigh. “Tell me what you found.” She finished, turning back, more composed than before, sitting in her chair.

---

After the little chat with Eleanor, she saw to it you were given a bath and a new bandage, returning your sword, daggers and throwing knives as well as your coat, clean. She told you if she needed you, she would send for you and so, after getting cleaned up, you left.

You’d found a place to eat, sitting at a bench outside, a mystery stew and some bread in front of you. You were half way through your meal when you felt like you were being watched. Three men approached the table you were at, sitting one beside you and two in front of you.

“Gentlemen, Stew?” You offered, knowing full well they weren’t here for polite conversation. The man next to you was wider than he was tall, built like stone with tattoos down the side of his face and neck. Opposite was a tall man, arms like tree trunks and a rather large dagger placed in front of him, a warning or a promise you weren’t entirely sure. Finally, next to him, was a darker skinned man, peering at you like you were his next meal. Clearing your throat, you stood carefully, looking at all three with a small smile on your face. “I feel rather unwelcome here, may I ask what this is about?” No answer. “Right, well, I suppose I’ll be off then, it is quite late after all, goodnight.”

You turned, stepping over the bench you were sat on when a hand gripped your wrist pulling you back. In retaliation you flipped the hot stew at the larger one's face, causing him to cry out, then, all hell broke loose. Punches were thrown left and right, your knife wound causing you to be slower than usual allowing them to land a few good hits. People crowded around the scene wondering what it was all about. Ducking under one of their punches your fist found its mark, doubling one over as you brought a knee to his face with a sickening crack. He fell to the floor as you whirled around, sweeping the smaller one’s legs out from under him and stamping your boot into his face, knocking him out. The largest of the men towered over you and honestly you weren’t quite sure how you’d be able to escape this one. His fist found your jaw, knocking you to the ground, you were stunned as a ringing filled your ears. He crawled on top of you, pulling his arm back for another strike when something hit him over the head, he looked a little confused before going limp, his full weight landing on you.

You groaned at the sudden pressure on your ribcage, feeling the adrenaline slowly pass and allowing all the pain from the fight to flood into your bones. Someone pulled the giant off you, offering you a hand up. In the dark you couldn’t quite see who it was until they pulled you up. You arched your back, cracking it far more than what was probably healthy and brushing yourself off. You’d need another bath that's for sure.

Looking up, you found the same man Eleanor was speaking with prior to your intrusion.

“Captain James Flint.” He introduced, extending his hand. His face was pulled into a frown and the crowd dissipated. The men on the ground were incapacitated or rolling around in pain as you glanced at them. Tilting your head up to his taller figure, you put your hand in his.

“Miss Elizabeth Devereux”

#black sails #captain flint #Captain James flint #Flint x reader #James Flint #James Flint x Reader #Captain flint x reader #Multi chapter

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beauregardlionett · 5 years ago

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by blood

AO3 Link

Beau hit the ground with a thud, having enough presence of mind left through the white hot blinding pulse of pain, pain, pain to register someone yelling her name nearby.

The voice was deep, and that didn’t exactly narrow down who could be shouting for her, because a good number of their party had fairly deep tones. Either way, she couldn’t respond. The monk could feel herself floating on the edges of unconsciousness, probably only still semi-aware out of sheer spite. There was a crackling sound that might or might not have been Beau’s hearing going static for a moment before fading again.

She had been standing in front of Caleb, offering a barrier for him as he went to work on a spell. Nott had been adjacent to her, getting in some critical damage while Beau held the enemy’s attention. Yasha had been on Beau’s left somewhere further off with Fjord and Jester. Caduceus wasn’t directly in the fray last time Beau had checked, his distinctive flash of magic sparking a decent way from the enemies but still dealing damage as he kept himself as unscathed as possible.

Beau tried to push herself somewhat upright, blinking hard against a renewed surge of blinding pain. She couldn’t leave her friends to fight without her. She was the one who took hits, deflected blows, darted through the melee to deal damage and assist where she was needed. Beau had to protect them.

She had to get up.

Vision spinning, somewhat doubled, Beau managed to lever herself upright enough to catch sight of Nott getting in a decent shot with her crossbow, taking out the enemy lumbering in Beau’s direction. The little goblin flashed Beau a broad grin full of sharp teeth and Beau waved in acknowledgement. Nott took this as a sign that the monk was okay, because she scampered off towards the others, in the process of taking down their last enemy.

Heaving for breath, Beau lowered her upper body back down to the matted, messy grass beneath her and felt her trembling arms give out just as her torso was an inch away from rest. Wheezing at the slight thud, Beau let her eyes shut and groaned softly against the disoriented sensation of spinning darkness. She could feel her side oozing blood from the massive gash there splitting her skin. Beau was pretty sure that wound had landed her with a broken rib or two if the pain and wheezing were anything to go by.

Wondering idly if any of her friends had ended up as bruised and beaten as her, Beau fiercely hoped not and struggled again to remain awake. It wasn’t like she would be able to help or heal them if they were, but she needed to know. Wheezing as she tried to make her arms move, Beau jolted slightly when she felt frantic hands carefully rolling her onto her back, making her head spin that much more. She groaned low and pained in her throat and there was a large, gentle hand against her hair, soothing.

Warmth flowed through her torso, emanating from two hands pressed with careful caution against her clavicle and sternum. It was a sensation she had never quite gotten used to, even after all this time; of rushing heat and then the unsettling feeling of muscles and sinew and skin carefully stitching back together. With a strained exhale, Beau found some strength flowing back into her and she managed to blink her eyes open and focus with less blurred vision this time.

Yasha’s face hovered upside down above Beau, making her realize that her head was pillowed carefully against the Aasimar’s legs. Beau watched as lines of concern smoothed out visibly against Yasha’s skin as her mismatched eyes took in the sight of Beau’s coherence. Jester’s horns and bright grin popped into her field of view next, eyes sparkling with relief.

“’Sup?” Beau croaked, earning a fond eye roll from both her visible friends. They helped her to sit up, Beau wincing only slightly at the mild strain and pull leftover from all the hits she had taken. Yasha’s shoulder was behind her back, keeping the exhausted monk upright as Jester turned to check on Nott. At her feet, Beau spotted Caduceus finishing up a quick healing spell on Fjord’s shoulder, finishing it off with a careful pat and a serene smile.

Breathing out a careful sigh of relief at seeing her friends whole and well, she took a quick headcount and the relief immediately dissipated with a stab of realization.

“Caleb,” Beau croaked when Yasha placed a worried hand on the monk’s arm at the sudden tension in her shoulders. “Where’s Caleb?”

The wizard was usually fairly silent after battles, taking the brief downtime in the post rush of adrenaline to breathe and collect himself. He and Beau usually sat down somewhere together to take stock of their wounds and just ache, so his absence was a sour note in what Beau had thought was the relief of surviving another battle. She kicked herself quietly for not noticing earlier, despite being on the verge of blacking out.

Nott’s expression immediately morphed into something frantic and terrified, Fjord and Caduceus instantly on their feet and turning ‘round and ‘round, eyes scanning in the fading daylight for their wizard. Beau’s panic increased tenfold at the lack of response to her question.

“Caleb?” she called as loudly as her voice would allow. “Caleb! C’mon man, answer me!”

Struggling upright from her reclined position against Yasha’s shoulder, Beau ignored how lightheaded she suddenly was and continued to push to her feet. Yasha’s fretful hands were at her shoulders, keeping Beau upright despite her trembling knees. Jester was suddenly in front of her, face scolding even as her brow furrowed with worry for Caleb.

“Beau, careful! You’re not fully healed yet, you might re-open wounds.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Beau insisted sharply, feeling guilty as Jester frowned unhappily at the tone. “We need to find Caleb. Now.”

The last she had seen him, he had been standing not far behind her as she protected him from the enemy while he was focused on casting a spell. When she had gone down, Beau had lost track of him. She assumed he had finished the spell and continued to fight, but he was the most vulnerable out of all of them and without Beau there to protect him, it was likely that Caleb could have taken a serious hit. Guilt was fierce and burning in her chest as she all but leaned into Yasha to stay upright, gaze darting fretfully around them to try and find Caleb. Beau fumbled for her goggles when she realized that it was getting too dark for her to see and peered desperately through the lenses.

“Caleb!” Nott’s shrill cry echoed over the din of the rest of their friends calling for the wizard, drawing gazes her way. Yasha had to help Beau turn around, Nott’s voice coming from behind them. She hadn’t even thought to look behind them, all of them fanning out and forward from the point of origin that was Beau.

Twisting around, before Yasha had even reoriented them, ignoring the tug and sting of unhealed wounds, Beau felt her breath catch in her throat. Nott was crouched at Caleb’s head, patting his cheek carefully so as not to catch him with her nails. He was in a limp heap, bloodied and far too still for Beau’s liking. She was numb for a moment, breath stuck, vision spinning, tunneling inward towards her human compatriot, and then her breath left her all at once in a piercing cry of, “CALEB!”

She was peripherally aware of Yasha and Jester flinching with shock at the volume, at the broken voice that left her. Beau never sounded this vulnerable.

Shoving Yasha’s hands off of her, Beau all but tumbled to the ground at the loss of support but then she was scrambling – hands and knees for a moment – and moving at a painful stumble towards Caleb. Collapsing beside him, eyes stinging and head pounding, she reached out (oh, her fingers were shaking) and grabbed a fistful of Caleb’s coat at his shoulder. She gave him a shake – gentle, so gentle because he was so soft – and called his name through the wobble in her voice.

“Caleb…come on. Open your eyes, man.”

Her eyes were fixated solely on his face, on the blood streaked across his cheeks and leaking sluggishly from somewhere above his hair line. His lips were slack and parted ever so slightly, eyes stubbornly shut. Beau refused to believe that he could ever be this still naturally. This had to be a joke.

Two gloved fingers caught Beau’s attention in her peripheral and she started slightly, looking to find Caduceus’ grim expression staring down at Caleb as he pressed his fingers near Caleb’s jugular. The cleric waited for a few silent, strained seconds before pulling back. His expression darkened in a way Beau had never witnessed before and she choked on a harsh, crushing sob.

“No,” Beau begged. “No, he can’t—you can save him, can’t you?”

“I don’t—” Caduceus started to say, only to be cut off by Jester shoving her way through them to Caleb’s side. Her eyes were frantic, tinged with tears that were now streaking down her cheeks. She had a diamond clutched in one hand, sparkling just barely in the fading daylight.

“I can try,” she said breathlessly. “We don’t know how long he’s been…so it might not work. But I can try.” Jester’s voice warbled and faltered, avoiding saying dead, but she immediately started casting the spell after she finished speaking.

Caduceus put a gentle hand on Nott’s shoulder, guiding the fretful goblin a few paces back, Fjord following after a moment, the half-orc keeping his eyes trained on Caleb’s face. Beau’s fingers were still twisted into the purple fabric of Caleb’s coat, and she felt Yasha’s large hand on her arm, coaxing her to let go, to give Jester the space she needed to cast. But Beau tried to shrug off Yasha’s touch, a choked sob leaving her quite unprompted. She couldn’t leave his side.

“Beau,” Yasha’s quiet voice was soft, understanding. The raw vulnerability underlying the call of her name was enough to draw her eyes away from Caleb. She found Yasha’s mismatched eyes and stuck fast, clinging to the stability she found there.

“It will be okay.”

Beau did not believe her, but she wanted to so badly that she forced her fingers to loosen their hold on Caleb and was compliant as Yasha guided Beau to her feet. Leaning heavily against the Aasimar as they retreated a few steps away, Beau watched Jester work with weary desperation.

She needed Caleb to be okay.

Beau hadn’t realized until very recently how much she had come to rely on and expect Caleb to be there for her. They were the human pair of their misfit group; they were the library team, the bastard children of the Empire. He was the older brother she had never had – never knew she needed. She could not lose him now, not after everything they had been through and not with everything they had left to do.

Beau did not believe in religion, she barely acknowledged the gods, but now, watching Jester cast her magic over Caleb’s limp form, she begged to Ioun in her mind.

Just let him live.

In all reality, the spell only took a few seconds to cast, but to Beau it felt like hours. She watched the glow of the diamond disintegrating, turning to a colorful powder and spreading Jester’s magic to fade and settle over Caleb – and he didn’t stir. His chest remained still, and his eyes stayed shut. Jester clapped her hands over her mouth and hunched over Caleb with a mournful keening sound.

Beau stared for a prolonged second before her knees gave out and she pitched sideways into Yasha. The taller woman had tears on her cheeks, smearing her war paint, but she managed to hold Beau upright in the end. Gathering the monk against her, holding her in a semi-embrace, Yasha’s chest shuddered against Beau’s shoulder with silent sobs. Beau was distinctly unaware of her surroundings, feeling entirely numb and detached, tunnel vision focused entirely on Caleb.

That was why, when he took a single, shuddering breath, Beau was the first to spot it. Feeling snapped back into her limbs so abruptly it left her feeling dizzy, breathless. But she shoved weakly against Yasha’s arms as a strangled noise left Beau’s throat. Yasha, likely thinking Beau was going to bolt, fought to keep a hold on the monk, her sobs still trembling within her chest.

“No,” Beau gasped. “Caleb, Caleb—” she managed to free an arm from Yasha’s hold and reached out for him, every wound on her skin stinging fiercely as she struggled.

Jester looked up at her frantic tone and caught sight of the wizard’s fluttering eyelids, his shallow breaths lifting his chest. The cleric let out a delighted, surprised cry and moved to cup Caleb’s cheeks, her fingertips glowing with more healing magic to draw him further back from the edge of death.

Fjord and Caduceus and Nott scurried forward, eyes wide with hopeful joy as Caduceus spent a spell on aiding Jester’s healing process. Yasha caught on to the shift in mood and readily helped Beau the few steps forward to Caleb. Her steady hands (they were trembling against Beau but her grip was sure) guided Beau to the ground with as little jostling as possible and the monk was quick to latch onto Caleb’s hand.

Nott was whispering reassurances to Caleb as she pet his hair, her voice and hands shaking but her yellow eyes staunchly relieved. The wizard was still very much dazed and aching, but his eyes were looking up fondly at Nott with exhaustion etched into every line of his features. Beau felt the worry in her chest unwind a little further when his bony fingers squeezed tighter around her hand.

Caduceus and Jester helped Caleb to sit up a minute later, the worst of his wounds healed, and let Fjord slip in behind the wizard to make sure he stayed upright. None of them wanted to stand up yet, far too shaken to consider leaving the tiny sphere of joy, relief, comfort that they had created. Nott was practically clinging to Caleb’s arm as she quietly followed the conversation between Fjord, Jester, and Caduceus.

Beau had yet to take her eyes off Caleb, watching his chest rise and fall more evenly, watching his eyes move around the group (open and bright and alive). Eventually, those blue irises found Beau’s own and the second they made eye contact, she was surging forward to grab hold of the lapels of his coat in her fists.

He didn’t look at all startled by her slightly rough treatment, and Beau hated and loved that someone knew her well enough to understand. Caleb – a man so abused and tortured – didn’t even flinch at Beau’s movements. He simply blinked slowly at her, waiting, reminding Beau far too much of his feline familiar.

Feeling the telltale sting of tears in her eyes, Beau tugged Caleb against her a little more harshly than strictly necessary, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. The hug was a fierce, protective reassurance and Caleb leaned into it willingly. He didn’t hesitate as much as he used to before wrapping his own arms around Beau – one hand firmly between her shoulder blades and the other secured around her back.

“Thank you,” Beau choked out into the fabric at Caleb’s shoulder. She wasn’t sure if she was thanking Ioun for her earlier pleas, or Caleb for not leaving her alone.

Maybe it was both.

“You’re so stupid, you know that? A fuckin’ idiot. You’re not supposed to get hit, that’s my job. Promise me you won’t die again.”

It was a fruitless thing to ask of him. They all almost died on a regular basis, and try as the clerics might to stay stocked with diamonds, Beau was well aware that the spell didn’t always work. But she felt like a child – scared and desperate for reassurance. Asking for an impossible promise so that she might be able to sleep at night. Caleb was a realistic and logical man, and he was probably going to quietly remind her that this was an unrealistic request, one he could not grant because he could not fulfill it.

“I was trying to protect you while you were down,” he said softly, accent thick against her shoulder as he tightened the hug a little more. “But ja, I will do my best.”

Beau burst into messy tears and pressed her face against his shoulder so hard she could barely breathe. Caleb just held her even closer and Beau took solace in the press of his arms on her back.

After crying her eyes out for a good few minutes, she heard Caleb murmur something over her shoulder and before she could even lift her head, Yasha’s warm hands were on her shoulders and drawing her carefully away from Caleb. Scrabbling with sudden panic to keep a hold on the wizard, a noise of frantic protest escaping her where words failed, Beau only stilled when Caleb’s hands rested against her shoulders.

“I need to put up the hut,” he explained softly, looking Beau directly in the eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Searching Caleb’s face for any hint of deception, Beau found none and nodded jerkily, acknowledging. She reluctantly released his coat from her death grip and let Yasha hold her. Beau wasn’t usually big on physical contact beyond casual touch every now and then (though she craved to be treated like something precious), so being handled with such care was disorienting. Deciding to just soak up what she could take before the morning inevitably stole this all away, Beau turned her face into the cloak at Yasha’s shoulder and ignored everyone’s worry for her.

She knew she was acting vulnerable, presenting a side of herself never before exposed to these friends she now considered family. Avoiding their eyes meant avoiding conversation about it, and come morning the topic would be spirited away alongside this prolonged physical contact.

Roughly a minute later, Beau already starting to drift off with the exhaustion of battle now weighing heavily on her, Yasha shifted the monk around so they could lie down. There was quiet rustling as the rest of the party went about setting up their bedrolls and adjusting position so they could puzzle together inside Caleb’s tiny bubble. Blinking blearily around as she was carefully guided onto the ground (her bedroll somehow already spread out), Beau found Caleb lying down beside her. Reaching for him, Caleb – in a rare display of physical affection – opened his arms to Beau and let her tuck herself against his side and pillow her head on his shoulder. His arm was secure around her shoulders, holding her close and encasing her in warmth.

Nott’s head poked up from Caleb’s other side, glancing over at Beau before reaching out to carefully pat the monk’s arm where it was thrown over Caleb’s stomach. Beau offered her a sleepy smile of gratitude as Nott settled down on Caleb’s other side.

In her peripheral, Beau could see Jester curled up behind Nott, the tiefling’s head resting against Caduceus’ stomach where he was stretched out above all their heads. Fjord and Yasha’s voices were hushed behind Beau’s back, the monk only catching snippets of conversation concerning Fjord taking first watch and Yasha taking the one after.

She was halfway to sleep when Yasha’s arm curled around Beau’s waist tentatively, the Aasimar pressing just slightly into Beau’s back. Warm and content, sandwiched comfortably between her family, Beau dropped quickly off to dreamless sleep. She wasn’t sure what the morning would bring (she knew what she hoped awaited her with the sunrise), but she knew she had never felt so reassured dropping into slumber before.

#cr #critical role #beauregard #yasha #caleb widogast #beauyasha #empire kids #empire siblings #writing #my writing

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grither55 · 4 years ago

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The Princess and the Peasant - (An Azula Epic) - Chapter 84 - My Name is Naoki

In the hazy distance the little girl saw the silhouette of the man named Strados in a green military uniform approaching over the horizon.

His hair blew in his pitiless blue eyes while his lips began to pull into a cruel smile as he strode towards her.

And then just when the man was about to reach her.

She was swiftly torn from her phantasm by the painful sensation of the whip yet again lashing against her bleeding back.

The child sunk to her knees with her brown eyes agape in unimaginable torment while her bloodied hands hung at her hips.

Her mouth was entrenched in an expression of despair as she collapsed into a heap upon the floor.

And all she could do was stare hauntingly at the ever-present metal wall.

That only served as a constant reminder of her imprisonment.

Seven years later.

The fourteen-year old stood rigid in hospital robes in the center of a metallic cell with her now emotionless brown eyes gazing on ahead.

And she didn’t even so much as flinch when an electric pain shot down her body.

The redhead stood unflinching even when a projectile was lobbed at her cheek.

While as she stared ahead unblinking with unresponsive brown eyes.

All the while as a team of scientists watched without remorse through a monitor as they assessed the girl’s progress.

“They all have their merits sir. But without a doubt…Subject Three is the most optimal. As you can see. She no longer responds to painful stimuli. It is my belief that once we complete the control program…that this one will make the ideal supersoldier.” A voice informed his superior as they watched the redhead’s skin get pelted by projectile fire.

Even when her skin was torn open.

She barely even scowled as she stood straight glaring ahead.

Meanwhile in another cell.

A brown-haired girl sat alone huddled in a ball in a dark cell devoid of light.

Her green eyes grew wide in increasing insanity as she madly pulled at her hair while screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Won’t someone…please turn on the light!” Subject Twenty-One shrieked in a maddened voice with her fingers digging into her scalp while her howls echoed throughout the prison halls.

Only for no one to answer her cries as she sunk back against the wall with her fingertips still pulling into her hair.

“As for Subject Twenty-One…her power seems to be latent.” The voice commented in a rigid manner as the monitor changed from one subject to the next.

Sometime several months down the line.

The now emotionless redhead sat unmoving in her cell with her cold eyes staring darkly ahead.

Only for her hardened eyes to flicker in annoyance when a voice called out to her from the opposing cell across the hall.

"How long have you been in here?" A dark-haired boy called out from where he stood while he gazed out of the small window on his cell door.

The orphan said nothing in response as she instead scowled in the direction of the boy.

“My name is Yuji…” Yuji stated offered in a frightened voice while the redhead still glared at her door.

‘Why did they have to go and put this fool near my cell of all places?’ The scarlet-haired girl thought with her hands resting upon her knees.

“Good for you. Enjoy it while you remember it.” The prodigy remarked in an unfeeling voice as she turned stare at the wall.

The boy stood with his black hair hanging down the sides of his face while he gazed out the cell window in hopes of gaining reassurance from the girl.

"Is... there any hope to get out of this place?” The dark-haired boy pondered in a voice in deep need of guidance.

While he found himself shifting on his feet when there was only silence from the opposing cell.

Only to turn his head to gaze out the window in surprise to find himself gazing back at a scarlet-haired girl’s strikingly callous face.

Her hard-brown eyes now gazed back at him through the tiny window while he suddenly found that he was unable to look away.

“That depends on if you can learn to keep your mouth shut.” The scarlet-haired girl answered in a ruthless voice while she stared back at the boy’s slightly more optimistic face as he now smiled back at her.

And then she turned away with her fists clenched at her hips while she ignored the boy’s call.

“Got it. I’ll remember that.” Yuji assured in a more uplifted voice as he turned to return to his cot.

While the redhead gazed ahead with glacial brown eyes as she dropped back down into her seat.

The day will come when she escapes this purgatory.

And when she does.

Mark her words.

She will show them no mercy.

As time went on, she talked to the boy more and more.

And dare she say it. That she might have come to regard him as a friend.

The redhead sat in her cell with her brown eyes gazing ahead while quietly she listened to the boy talk.

“It was my favorite book when I was little.” The dark-haired boy stated in a reminiscent voice from where he sat in his cell.

“I already gathered as much.” The prodigy spoke in an icy voice with her head resting against the cell wall.

“Maybe when we get out of here you would enjoy giving it a read. You might like it.” Yuji called out with just a sliver of hope in his voice while he gazed at his cell wall.

There was a moment of silence while he waited for his fellow prisoner to respond.

And just when he thought that the redhead wasn’t going to say anything.

He heard her voice call out to him once more.

“What is it called?” The scarlet-haired girl inquired with a flicker of curiosity in her emotionless voice.

While she gazed ahead with a hidden yearning in her unfeeling brown eyes.

“It’s called Naoki.” The dark-haired boy answered with momentary excitement in his voice while he grinned over his shoulder.

“Naoki.” The prodigy whispered in a barely perceivable voice while she tightened a fist in her lap.

Indeed.

Perhaps the boy was a friend after all.

And at the very least he was someone to talk to.

That is until one fateful day that they found themselves face to face in combat.

Yuki stood opposite of the prodigy while he swallowed in intimidation as he slid his feet backwards.

While the redhead gazed back with icy brown eyes that flashed with the faintest hint of conflict.

“I am sorry that it has to be this way.” The scarlet-haired girl stated in a machinelike voice as she sunk into a combat stance.

“As am I.” The dark-haired boy replied in a grim voice as sweat dripped down his brow while the supersoldier in training gazed back at him.

“Begin.” A voice commanded over the speakers while the two gazed into one another’s eyes.

And then not even a second later the prodigy broke into a blinding sprint towards the boy.

And then soon after that the two engaged in a bloody sword duel as they repeatedly clashed blades.

It didn’t take long for Yuji to come to realize that he was outclassed.

They both knew right from the start who was the superior supersoldier candidate.

There wasn’t a single candidate in all of the complex that could even begin to compare to the girl dubbed as Number Three.

The prodigy leaped towards her opponent with terrifying agility before she swiftly kicked his sword from his hand.

Clang!

The blade spun to the floor with a metallic rattle while Yuji now found himself with a sword pointing into his throat.

The redhead now stood over him with her brown eyes gazing back down at him with the faintest margin of emotion.

All the while as the boy and the girl stared uncomfortably back into each other’s eyes while the defeated Yuji still managed to offer her a reassuring smile.

“Finish him.” The unseen voice ordered while the prodigy showed uncharacteristic hesitation as she clenched her fist over her blade.

“Just do it. It’s okay. I won’t hold it against you.” Yuji stated in a voice of acceptance as he knelt gazing up into the prodigy’s unusually conflicted brown eyes.

“But…you are my friend.” The prodigy spoke in a low voice with her gaze never leaving the boy’s sadly smiling face.

“We don’t have a choice.” The dark-haired boy replied bluntly while the redhead gaze down at him with her brown eyes flashing in horror.

“You are wrong Yuji. There is always a choice!” The scarlet-haired girl snapped with rare anger in her voice while her fists tightly gripped her sword.

“Do it Number Three! Or you will both die!” The voice shouted as the two teens stared hauntingly back into each other’s eyes for the briefest of moments.

It was but a fleeting moment. But it felt like an eternity.

And for once the supersoldier found herself unable to bring herself to act.

The mighty warrior stood frozen with her conflicted hands gripping the hilt of her weapon.

Only for her brown eyes to widen when her threw himself onto her sword while she gazed down numbly into the boy’s dying eyes.

“No! No! Yuji!!” The prodigy exclaimed as she frantically dropped down over the boy with her brown eyes agape in grief while she attempted to pry her blade out.

Only for it to made the bleeding worse as her stony expression contorted into once of emotional agony.

“Y-you’ll get out of here. I know you will. And you’ll find your name.” Yuji rasped with blood in his mouth while redhead stared down at him with uncharacteristic emotion in her brown eyes.

“Stay with me Yuji! Stay with me!”” The scarlet-haired girl pleaded with her hands shaking her dying friend’s slumping shoulders.

“If…you find my mother…please tell her that I love her.” The dark-haired boy whispered as his eyes closed shut while he slumped in the girl’s arms.

And with that the prodigy sunk to the floor with her palms holding the lifeless boy’s head in her lap.

While her haunted brown eyes gazed down at her friend’s deceased face with her hands tightly gripping at his limp shoulders.

Hours later.

The teenager sat on her cot with her scarlet bangs hanging in her eyes while she gazed out her cell window.

Only this time the opposing cell was vacant.

She clenched her jaw as she squeezed her fists over her hips while her brown eyes grew wide with rage.

Just as she abruptly stood up as she began pacing about her cell with her hair swaying before her furious eyes.

Just before she slammed her powerful fist into the cell wall while she trembled in fury.

Thoom!

“It was…by my hand!” The prodigy snapped with uncharacteristic guilt in her cold voice while her fist lingered against the wall.

Before she pounded her fist into the metallic structure once more while her body started to become consumed in a mighty crimson aura.

Boom!

The supersoldier continued to punch the wall with great force as she shook with her hair in her eyes.

While her usual false smile vanished from her lips and instead creased into a thin line.

Before she slammed into the wall with even greater force.

Over and over again she punched the wall and never once stopping even when her fists began to bleed.

Before finally…

She panted with her eyes wide with her brown machinelike eyes taking on an even colder tint as sweat dripped down her cheek.

While she stood with her fist buried in the dented wall as she breathed heavily.

Before she slowly straightened herself with her emotionless eyes staring back into the imprint of her fist in the wall.

“I am going to kill everyone in this shithole Yuji. I swear it.” The scarlet-haired girl spoke in a terrifying voice as she clutched the side of her face with her furious fist.

And that was a promise that she intended to keep.

On a fateful day over the next coming months.

Sirens began to blare all throughout the prison complex as guards scrambled to fix the problem.

“What going on?!” A researcher yelled out in a fretful voice as he stood behind his fellow scientists.

“The power is shorting out!” Another scientist shouted in a distraught voice while the others gazed on in horror as they watched the lights start to flicker.

“Then fix it!” Another hollered with panic in her eyes as she watched the room turn dark.

Only for all of their eyes to widen when the camera feed for the entire prison abruptly went back.

Along with all of the electricity in the entire complex!

And just like that the researchers found themselves gazing ahead in the pitch-black room as they listened to the sound of the systems powering off.

Which was followed by an eerie silence.

“I-it’s gone. The powers gone.” The second researcher declared in a terrified voice as he swallowed in fright.

While a shiver travelled down their spines with their sole thoughts being the potential escape of their most dangerous prisoner.

Without even so much as waiting for the order guards were immediately storming towards subject Number Three’s location.

Only for all of them to freeze up in their tracks when they found themselves gazing directly at an open cell door.

All the while as the sound of soft footsteps striding out of the cell flowed into their ears.

While they all took a fearful step back when merciless brown eyes now gazed out at them through the darkened cell.

Just as the sound of broken manacles dropping to the metal floor echoed throughout the hallway.

The prodigy stood in her white robes with her scarlet hair hanging freely behind her while her piercing eyes stared back into their paling faces.

“S-she’s…free.” A guard stammered in a terrified voice as he gulped with his hands shakily gripping his rifle.

“I…I order you to stay back!” The head guard bellowed in an unsettled voice while the teenager’s callous eyes burned through his soul.

Only for a loud roar to split into the air not a moment later when the teenager bellowed out a battlecry at the top of her lungs.

Just as the sound of a cacophony of gunfire erupted into the air.

All the while as the prodigy roared while sprinting forward with her bare feet sliding across the steel floor.

Before she vanished in a flicker of blinding speed while the panicked guards gazed about in the dark as they struggled to get a lock on their target.

Slam!

And not even a second later one of the guards dropped to the ground with a smashed face plate when the supersoldier’s foot connected with his jaw.

The horrified soldiers reeled around as they madly fired about in a desperate bid to hit the monstrous girl.

“I am strong and you are weak!” The prodigy screamed as she leaped off the floor in a blur with her fist slamming a man savagely against the wall.

The guard slumped with blood dripping down his forehead while the shouts of his comrades rang out down the hall.

While the redhead leaped through the terrified guards as they madly fired bullet after bullet in the dark in a futile attempt to hit her.

Only for several of their own to cry out when they were shot down by their own frenzied comrades.

While the horrified guards screamed out as they were savagely cut down one by one by the rampaging prodigy.

All the while as a tremendous crimson aura of chi shot forth from the teenager’s body as she howled with her hair swaying wildly behind her.

Her brown eyes were agape with an animalistic wrath as she tore straight through the screaming soldiers.

And then she slid on her bare feet through the volley of guards while they dropped to the ground with their armor crumbling as they hit the floor.

While she panted with her scarlet hair sticking to her face.

Just before she broke out into a rapid run down the hallway of the massive prison complex before leaped into the next passageway.

Leaving nothing but the sounds of more screaming guards in her wake.

On the upper floor the scientists scrambled in a panic to make their way to the hidden escape pathway.

While a female scientist ran ahead of her fellows as she bolted down the corridor with her hazel eyes wide in fright.

Her heels clanged upon the flooring as she ran down the hall.

‘Just a little bit closer!’ Anne thought with relief in her eyes as she approached the end of the corridor.

Only for her blood to run cold as she immediately froze up in her tracks when she found herself gazing at the face that dreaded.

“Going somewhere…doctor?” The scarlet-haired girl inquired in a machinelike voice while her blood-stained face gazed heartlessly back into the older woman’s petrified eyes.

“P-please I was only f-following my superiors orders!” The female researcher sputtered as she shakily backed away while the redhead stalked towards her.

All the while as the prodigy’s bloodthirsty eyes never once left her pale face as the girl sauntered forward with a broken pipe in hand.

The cowering woman stumbled on her heeled shoes while she shook as the teenager came to a stop standing over her terrified form.

Only for her eyes to grow widen in terror when the redhead opened her other fist to reveal a small electric shock device.

“N-no! P-please d-don’t! N-no!” Anna shrieked with her back against the wall while her widened eyes watched the girl’s draw closer to her face.

And then an abnormally powerful fist brutally grasped a hold of her face while she sobbed as she gazed at the device lowering into her line of vision.

Just before a quiet click was heard as the device was slapped onto her forehead.

While she observed in horror as the prodigy withdrew a remote from under her sleeve with a malicious smile adorning her lips.

“Let’s test out your endurance…doctor.” The prodigy spoke in a callous voice as she pressed down on the activation button.

And just like that the researcher’s shrill screams ruptured into the air as she writhed with agonizing electric shocks pulsating throughout her entire body.

The older woman wailed as she rolled on the floor with a high voltage current washing over her while the redhead smashed the remote in her clenched fist.

Before the supersoldier turned to walk away with an unnerving smile on her lips as the scientist’s dying screamed flowed like music into her ears.

And soon enough the sounds of the other lab staff’s screams echoed ominously throughout the hallways.

One hour later.

The smoke from the underground prison fire drifted into the air while the prisoners gazed up into the evening snowing skies.

While the girl called Subject Twenty-One held her face as she abruptly began to laugh madly without reason.

The brown-haired girl dropped to her knees while she cackled at the top of her lungs with tears streaming down her cheeks.

As the other escapees glumly sat in silence as they gazed ahead grimly.

All the while as Elle quietly trudged forward with her amber eyes gazing around at her fellow escapees as she chewed on her lip.

Just as her saddened gaze briefly passed over the other girl’s madly laughing face while the brownette continued to howl in laughter.

She tried and failed to suppress the shiver that was travelling down her spine at witnessing the other girl go insane before her very eyes.

Before she turned her gaze to her childhood friend from so long ago.

The prodigy now stood gazing up into the snowing night skyline with her brown eyes reflectively pondering her identity.

“What…what is my name?” The scarlet-haired girl muttered to herself with her hair blowing gently in the cold breeze.

All the while as her mind raced with questions that she could not answer.

What is her name?

Who were her parents? And where were they when she needed them?

And then there’s that name…Sayomi Saito.

Why…why can’t she get that name out of her head?

And last but most certainly not least.

There’s the face of the man that haunted her mind…Strados.

And then she clenched her fist at her hip while she narrowed her brown eyes in the form of a callous glare.

Just as she turned her gaze away from the snow-covered mountain peaks when she heard someone approaching behind her.

Only to find herself gazing back at the blonde’s strikingly familiar bashful face.

“Hey...” Elle spoke in a timid voice as she tried to pay no mind to the blood on the older girl’s cheeks.

“What do you want?” The prodigy responded in a harsh voice while she turned to gaze down into the shorter girl’s bright amber eyes.

“I…was wondering what name I should call you…” The blonde-haired girl trailed off as she bit her lip while the redhead’s brown eyes flashed in slight surprise.

“What does it matter to you if I have a name?” The scarlet-haired girl questioned in a cold voice while she studied the younger girl’s beaming face.

“It matters because you are my friend!” Elle chirped as she bounced on her feet while the older girl’s machinelike eyes stared back at her in confusion.

Only for the prodigy to quickly turn her hardened eyes away from the younger girl’s sunny face.

For some reason she found those words vastly pleasing to her ears.

“Hn. I’ll let you know when I think of something.” The prodigy stated with a scoff as she folded her arms over her chest only to stiffen when the blonde’s hand touched her arm.

“Please do!” The blonde-haired girl piped with natural cheer in her voice that puzzled the older girl.

While the redhead regarded her with cold eyes for the briefest of moments before she turned away once more.

There was no mistaking it.

She really did meet this naïve girl a long time ago.

One week later in a supply warehouse.

A bonfire was smoldering in a barrel as the escapees stared up at their leader upon an overlooking railing while she gazed down into the burning flames.

She now wore a red shirt with baggy white pants while her locket hung lightly over her developing chest.

And in her hand, she clutched an old book.

The area was littered with stolen food and drink.

All the while the escaped prisoners gazed up in anticipation of what their new leader would do next.

“Have you decided on a name yet?” The blonde-haired girl pondered as she gazed up at the redhead while the older girl’s lips curved into a smile.

“I have.” The scarlet-haired girl answered in a confident voice with her brown eyes gazing down at the book in her hand.

It was the one that Yuji had told her about before.

It was an old fable and it had been his favorite childhood story.

It was called Naoki.

“What do we call you?” Kane inquired in a curious voice with his arms folded over his chest while the younger warrior began to walk down the staircase.

While a sanguine smile graced her lips.

The flames of the blazing fire lit her sliced up face as she gazed down into her fellow escapees admiring eyes.

All the while as Elle and Subject Twenty-One gazed up at the redhead’s face as she descended with a newfound purpose in her step.

“Call me…” The prodigy trailed off in a thoughtful voice with her hardened eyes staring down at her crew while they listened in a bated silence.

There was a fleeting pause while she glanced down at the book through the corner of her eye.

Before she turned to gaze down at the faces of her fellows with a decisive smile pulling at her lips.

“Call me Naoki.” The scarlet-haired girl declared at long last with the flames accentuating her visage while she gazed down at her awestruck crew.

There was another moment of silence as the escapees exchanged a look with one another before they gazed back up at their leader’s smirking face.

“Naoki?” The brown-haired girl asked with a grin forming on her lips while she laughed madly once more.

"Yes. My name…is Naoki." Naoki announced in a voice of boundless confidence as she stared down at her speechless crew with commanding brown eyes.

Only for her smile to grow even larger when the group of twenty something prisoners erupted into a roaring shout of approval.

The former prisoners shouted as they all thrust a fist in the air while the newly born Naoki smirked down at them.

“Naoki!” One escaped prisoner yelled out after another while the rogue supersoldier stood smiling on the staircase above them.

“Naoki…” Elle repeated in a much softer voice with a gentle smile on her lips while the large man grinned behind her.

“Naoki it is then!” The bald warrior exclaimed with a fist above his head while he stood over the petite blonde.

“Now then…I’ve been thinking that we should go pay a visit to the politicians that enslaved us.” The scarlet-haired girl remarked in a cold voice as she came to a stop on the final step gazing down at her crew.

And just like that the crew of former prisoners shouted in agreement with their fists thrust into the air.

“Let’s go kill them all. How does that sound?” Naoki spoke in a glacial voice as her hard-brown eyes swept over the faces of her shouting fellows.

And with that the former prisoners yelled out their approval while Elle gulped as she shifted nervously on her feet.

Just as Naoki’s callous brown eyes glanced down at her timid face while the two girls gazed back into each other’s eyes.

One a pacifist and the other a vengeful killer.

Before the blonde finally averted her conflicted amber eyes away from the redhead’s steely gaze.

The meaning of the look was all too clear to Elle.

It was Naoki’s way of telling her that she needed to let go of her mother’s pacifistic beliefs.

And thus, began the division between the two reunited childhood friends.

Several days later.

An explosion rang out into the air while smoke drifted into the skyline.

Naoki sat on a rock with a proud smirk on her lips while Elle gazed on from beside her with unease in her amber eyes.

All the while as Katsu howled in laughter with her fists shimmering with green light.

“Did you see that!? They ran away like little cowards!” Katsu cackled with an excited grin on her lips while she watched the soldiers run away.

“Yeah. I saw that Katsu. We can do anything we want now.” Naoki stated as she smirked with her elbow resting upon her knee.

Only to turn and gaze out of the corner of her eye when she took note of the way that the blonde was gazing away from them.

“Bakudan! Life is an explosion!” The brown-haired girl shouted as she wildly tossed a burning ball of green light into the air that exploded high above them.

And then the bomber burst out into even louder laughter while the prodigy still smiled in approval behind her.

All the while as Elle gazed off into the distance with uncertainty in her emotional amber eyes.

‘This isn’t what Mother taught me.’ The blonde-haired girl thought with a frown forming upon her lips.

The day after that.

“What do you mean you are leaving?” The scarlet-haired girl questioned in a cold voice while the blonde averted her eyes from her gaze.

While the others gazed on in either surprise or disinterest.

In the case of Kane, it was surprise and concern.

And in Katsu’s case the bomber was now staring back at the petite blonde with distraught green eyes.

“What! You’re leaving! Why?” The brown-haired girl cried out as she stood behind the blonde with her mouth dropping open in worry.

“I’m…not like everyone else here. I don’t have any powers of my own. My only talent is a paintbrush.” Elle spoke in a saddened voice as she shifted on her feet while Naoki remained unconvinced by her words.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you have power. I know it.” Naoki insisted as she stared hard back at Elle’s disconcerted face while the younger girl gazed down at her feet.

“Yeah! And it doesn’t matter if you have any power or not because you’re one of us!” Katsu shouted as she grasped onto Elle’s shirt while the smaller girl managed a momentary smile.

“Arigatou gozaimasu Katsu. I consider you a friend as well.” The blonde-haired girl answered softly as the bomber gazed back at her with hopeful green eyes.

“Does that mean that you’ll stay?” The brown-haired girl pondered with rising spirits that plummeted soon after when the blonde turned away once more.

“Sumimasen…but I cannot.” Elle muttered with a deep frown on her lips while she avoided gazing into Katsu’s downcast green eyes.

“And where exactly are you going to go? You ran away from your only family and several governments are now after your head.” The scarlet-haired girl remarked in a harsh voice as she sat with her arms folded over her chest gazing back at the younger girl’s naïve face.

“I-I don’t know. But even if I did have a power. I…can’t take part in your plan Naoki. It’s…just not me.” The blonde-haired girl replied as she raised her eyes to gaze back into the prodigy’s eerily machinelike eyes.

There was a moment of silence among the crew until the redhead turned to glare back at the blonde with narrowed brown eyes.

“Fine, leave then. Spineless coward. Take your foolish prattling’s of peace and go.” Naoki spoke in a much colder voice with her cruel words provoking instantaneous hurt in Elle’s sensitive amber eyes.

“A-alright. I will.” Elle stated in a timid voice as she hung her head before she began to walk away while Naoki glared after her back.

While Katsu stood with a conflicted expression in her eyes as she gazed between her two friends while she watched the blonde depart.

“Hn. And don’t expect me to come save you when you get captured again.” The scarlet-haired girl called out with her arms crossed over her breasts while her emotionless eyes watched her childhood friend walk away.

“Take care of yourself Elle." Kane commented as he watched Elle walk past him while she briefly cast him a grateful smile.

“I will Kane. You do the same.” The blonde-haired girl mumbled as she padded off while the redhead’s icy eyes never left her back.

And even though the prodigy never said it aloud.

She knew that Naoki was displeased with her decision.

About one week after that.

Rieko walked down the hall of her vacation estate in her white robes before she came to a stop before her chamber door.

Before she turned the door knob and pushed it open.

Her domineering blue eyes gazed into the darkened room for a brief moment before she closed the door behind her.

And then soon after that she pulled out a chair with a lazy hand.

Before she plopped down onto her round bottom as she leaned back in her seat with her lips curving into a haughty smile.

And then with no warning whatsoever a scarlet blur leaped out at her from the shadows while slashing a sword down at her turned back.

Only for the statuesque woman to spring from her seat with terrifying speed while she now grasped the blade between her fingertips.

All the while as the older woman now found herself staring down at a cloaked attacker’s unseen face.

“Congratulations for making it this far. If you tell me who sent you…I might kill you quickly.” Rieko spoke in an imposing voice with vapor exuding from her beautiful lips while she gazed down at her cloaked would-be assassin.

Only for the much shorter cloaked figure to leap backwards with agility that took even the mighty monarch by surprise.

All the while as the older woman stared back at the disguised fighter with her domineering blue eyes now studying the assassin’s movements.

Just as the assassin slid on the floor before she broke out into a blinding run back at the intimidating military woman.

“Oh, very well. I suppose I could use some evening entertainment.” The emperor purred with her lips curving into a broad smirk just as she dodged another swipe to the face.

Only to find herself blinking her blue eyes in surprise when a boot collided with her belly.

The older woman skidded back on her floor with her eyes widening once more while she continued to increase her speed.

While the cloaked fighter somehow managed to keep up with her movements!

‘Impressive…this one is quite skilled! Very rarely do I have to put in this much effort!’ Rieko thought with her blue eyes staring thoughtfully ahead as her cloaked attacker lunged forward once again.

And then not even a second later shreds of the cloak fell to her chamber floor below.

While the older woman now held a sword of ice in her right hand.

All the while as she now gazed on with a smile forming upon her lips as she watched half of the assassin’s hood plummet to the floor below.

Only for her cold-hearted blue eyes to widen for a final time when she caught sight of long scarlet hair.

As strikingly familiar brown eyes now gazed back at her while the prodigy elegantly landed crouched on all fours gazing up at her stunned face.

“It’s…you! You are alive!” The emperor exclaimed with uncharacteristic surprise in her voice while stared down at the now teenage girl’s emotionless face.

“Yes Rieko. It’s me.” The scarlet-haired girl replied as she gazed up at the older woman while she quickly recovered her composure.

Only to burst out into belly shaking laughter with her ice sword disintegrating from her hand.

While she continued to laugh with a smile already returning to her lips.

"My...when I sensed a presence in my room…I never thought it would be you! To be honest I thought you died years ago that was the conclusion that I came to when I recovered your sword! But I see that came back to collect it!” Rieko announced with loud laughter as her belly shook while she placed her fists on her mighty hips.

All the while as she found herself unable to resist grinning as she watched the teenager girl stand up with her brown eyes meeting her gaze.

“I didn’t come back for the sword. It was just the first one on the rack. Nothing more. Nothing less.” Naoki retorted in a stubborn voice as she sheathed her sword while she proudly gazed away when Rieko smirked from ear to ear.

“Did you hide under my bed just to get a swipe at me? You did, didn’t you? I’m not going to lie to you kid. You scare me.” The emperor chuckled with a smug grin on her lovely lips while she strode closer.

“I wasn’t hiding under your bed. And don’t call me kid. My name is Naoki.” The scarlet-haired girl declared as she gazed at the wall while the older woman now stood over her with a growing grin on her lips.

“Naoki? As in the old fable? That’s your name?” Rieko questioned in a more subdued voice with her breasts at level with the girl’s stoic face.

“It’s not my birth name. But it’s my name now. I chose it myself.” Naoki spoke as she folded her arms over her chest while she gazed up at Rieko’s intrigued face.

“I see Naoki…it is then. But I have to ask…where have you been all of these years and why are you just now paying me a visit?” The emperor inquired with a finger under her chin while she took note of the machinelike gaze in the girl’s brown eyes.

The girl had gained quite the thousand-yard stare since she last saw her.

Something changed in the girl since she last saw her.

But what?

“That’s because I couldn’t. Sometime after we went our separate ways I was captured and taken to a prison center for gifted children.” The scarlet-haired girl announced in an eerily emotionless voice while the older woman now gazed back at her with marginally widened blue eyes.

And with that Rieko found herself spending the next five minutes listening to Naoki recall her tale.

Until she was soon gazing back at the girl with her blue eyes expressing her rare sense of amazement just after the redhead finished her story.

“I escaped several weeks ago. And now I am searching for the masterminds behind its inception.” Naoki concluded in a mirthless voice with her murderous brown eyes gazing at the military woman’s recovering face.

“I must admit that you’ve surprised me Naoki. You have grown into a stark contrast from the child that I met in the rain.” Rieko spoke in an impressed voice at long last with her blue eyes gazing back at the girl in increased fascination.

‘I knew that she had potential but this…’ The emperor thought as she watched the teenager gaze back up at her with chilling brown eyes.

“I am no longer that nameless child. She died a long time ago. I came here to see what you knew…to see if you might know about the names of the individuals behind such a place.” The scarlet-haired girl stated in a quiet voice while she peered up at the woman with an intently searching gaze.

The monarch’s lips creased into a refined frown after she caught the implications behind the girl’s query.

“I have many rivals who would be eager to obtain such a powerful warrior in the hopes of gaining an advantage over me. Nothing confirmed of course…but I may be able to assist you in identifying names.” Rieko replied in an unfettered voice with her hand resting under her chin while Naoki’s cold eyes glance up at her.

“If I find out that you had anything to do with this…” Naoki trailed off in a menacing voice with her obsessed eyes staring back at Rieko’s scoffing face.

“Please. I have a code. I don’t hurt children. I am insulted that you would even suggest that I would.” The emperor huffed with her arms folded over her breasts as the prodigy rolled her eyes up at her.

“You’ll have to excuse my skepticism. The amount of people that you’ve killed speaks otherwise.” The scarlet-haired girl commented coolly as she turned to walk away with her cloak over her shoulders while the military woman stared after her in amusement.

“Leaving already?” Rieko pondered with a grin on her lips while she gazed at Naoki’s back while the prodigy strode across her floor.

“I didn’t come here to socialize with you. I have said all that I needed to say.” Naoki spoke bluntly as stood by the windowsill while she turned to glance back at Rieko’s smirking face.

Just as the older woman sat back down in her seat as she leaned back in her chair with her hardened blue eyes still gazing back at her.

“I am currently forming an elite fighting force and I would like for you to join us. You should give it some thought…I promise that I will make it worth your while.” The emperor purred in a cunning voice with her domineering eyes staring back at the redhead’s emotionless face.

“I have no interest in joining your group. My will is my own and I will do things my way.” The scarlet-haired girl responded in a soft voice while the older woman sighed as she gazed back with intelligent blue eyes.

“You are just as stubborn as you were back then. But very well…if you should change your mind…you know where to find me.” Rieko remarked with a charming smile while she watched in amusement as the girl opened her window.

Just before she turned to gaze back at her for a final time with her silk curtains blowing lightly in the wind behind her.

“If you get in the way of my ambitions…I will kill you Rieko Oshiro.” Naoki informed in a callous voice with her chilling brown eyes gazing back at Rieko’s still smiling face.

While Rieko stared on in unconcealed entertainment as her curtains flapped about in the evening breeze.

While she caught a final parting glimpse of the prodigy’s face.

And then just like that the girl was gone.

All the while as the ruler reclined in her seat with her arms crossed over her breasts while a smirk grew onto her lips.

“How interesting Naoki…you truly did grow strong.” The emperor spoke in a pleased voice with her chin resting upon her gloved fist.

Yes indeed.

This truly was a fascinating turn of events.

Days after that.

The prodigy slipped a white combat glove over her right hand while she stared into a shop window with emotionless brown eyes.

Just before she repeated the same procedure with her other hand.

And then she wrapped a heavy white scarf around her neckline while her locket continued to sway over her chest.

And soon after that she tied a white sash around her waistline.

All the while as she gazed back into the window of the shop with her scarlet hair flowing in the breeze behind her.

While she stared back at her reflection with a newfound expression of identity in her hardened gaze.

And she couldn’t help but find herself unable to resist allowing her lips to curl into a smile.

Before she finally turned away with her tabi booted feet striding silently across the pavement while her cloak blew gently in the wind.

While her sword hung from her hip as she gazed ahead with unmistakable purpose in her eyes.

And then not even a second later she leaped into the air leaving nothing but a scarlet blur in her wake while she jumped across the rooftops.

And then later on that very same night…

A scream echoed throughout the air of a wealthy estate while a man collapsed bleeding onto the floor.

Just as a cloaked figure leaped out of an open while the sound of footsteps came rushing around the corner.

Before the body guards burst into the room only to gaze on in horror to find their employer bleeding out before the fireplace.

“Sir!” A bodyguard exclaimed as he rushed over to kneel over the mortally wounded man.

“Find the intruder! They couldn’t have gotten far!” Another man shouted out while the other quickly moved to seal off all of the exits.

“Sir…what can you tell us about your attacker?” The first bodyguard questioned in a gentle voice while he stared down at the rasping man’s sweating face.

“I-it…it was…a scarlet oblivion.” The mob boss croaked out with blood dripping down his chin while his guards stared down at him in bewilderment.

Just as Naoki leaped off the rooftop with a sanguine smile upon her lips as her cloak blew in the wind behind her.

“I…am Naoki…the scarlet soldier of oblivion.” Naoki spoke in a pleased voice with her lips pulling into a smirk.

All the while as she elegantly across the rooftops with her soft footsteps resounding into the air as she landed from rooftop to rooftop.

And then just like that she vanished without a trace into the night.

Meanwhile at some point in the weeks following after that.

On the top of a building armed soldiers stood on guard behind their monarch.

While Rieko stared back at a man with practiced coldness in her blue eyes while she watched him turn around to face her.

His neck was tightly bandaged from a recent injury while his lips were curving into a wide smile at the sight of her.

And then he extended his hand for a handshake while she regarded him in boundless distaste.

Her strict blue eyes glanced down at his hand for a fleeting moment before she reached out to grasp onto his hand.

“Lord Rieko. How kind of you to accept my invite.” Felix greeted in a joyous voice as he shook hands with Rieko while the woman stared at him coldly.

Elle’s stories were enough reason for her to despise him even before she met him.

But the lack of respect in the man’s voice only made her hate even him more.

And that was all reason that she needed to begin applying pressure to his hand.

Just as he let out a cry of slight surprise while she glared back at his still grinning face.

“Felix Turner, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t tear you apart limb by limb.” Rieko declared in a frigid voice with a lethal smile on her beautiful lips while she crushed the man’s hand.

Only for her blue eyes to take careful note of the pleased expression in the man’s amber eyes.

“Because I! Have! It!” The brother announced in a victorious voice while the monarch’s blue eyes now gazed back at him in surprise.

And then soon after that the older woman released the man’s hand in her surprise.

While she gazed back at Felix’s face as the young man erupted into maddened laughter.

All the while as her soldiers gazed on perplexed behind her.

While the Felix held his sides as he exploded into roaring laughter with his trench coat flapping about in the breeze.

All the while as Rieko silently gazed on as her predatory blue eyes adopted a cunning gleam with Felix’s mad laughter echoing into the air throughout the rooftops.

#Azula #Avatar The Last Airbender #yuri #ty lee avatar #mai avatar

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thirteen-beaxhes · 6 years ago

Text

Interstellar (An Andi Mack One Shot)

this started out stupid why is this so long An Andi Mack Area 51 one shot ft Tyrus and Ambi

Words: 4084

AO3 LINK IN REBLOG

~~~~~~~~

“This is by far the worst idea we have ever had,” Andi mumbled, and Cyrus shushed her as he crouched behind the rock he was hiding behind.

“I didn’t force you to come,” he whispered back, as Andi peeked over the rock, holding the binoculars up to her face as she peered through them, huffing slightly.

“You asked me to come!”

“No I didn’t. In fact, I specifically told you not to come and you said, “You can’t tell me what to do!” and forced Bex to buy you a ticket here.”

“Details, details,” Andi said, waving him off as she sat back down, the hot sun shining harshly on her face, the heat scorching even when she tried to hide her face with her hands. “Anyway, the guards seem to be chatting right now, and according to the plan Blondie at the Research centre told us, they’ll be going on break soon. That’s when we blow the whistle.”

“And that’s when we charge,” Cyrus muttered, and Andi and he looked at each other, immediately snorting at the utter ridiculousness of their situation. But the people who were with them turned around, immediately harshly shushing them, before turning back ahead.

“Of all the places we would go to hang out, the Area 51 raid is the last place I expected us to be,” Cyrus whispered to Andi after the group had forgotten about them. Andi smiled, resting her head against Cyrus’.

“I know, but we’re together so this is gonna be fun,” she whispered back, and Cyrus giggled softly, before tightening his grip on his NERF gun. Seeing that almost made Andi lose her shit, until she realised she too was only holding a water gun. Damn Bex and her no sharp knives policy.

Suddenly, there was some mutterings across the group, and Andi peeked over the rock, peering through her binoculars, excitedly tapping Cyrus on the shoulder.

“What? I’m trying to vibe to ‘E.T.’ by Katy Perry here,” Cyrus whined, but Andi pulled him up by the collar, pushing the binoculars in front of his eyes. He looked through and started laughing, looking over at Andi, who had the whistle in her mouth.

“Let’s go free some aliens.”

The raid was nothing shot of absolutely ridiculous, yet it was the most exhilarating experience of Cyrus and Andi’s lives. They decided to forego the people who were Naruto running in, just to spare themselves some dignity, but they ran in, Cyrus just gripping his NERF gun and Andi shooting water at every guard she saw just as a reflex. Both were fully prepared to be gunned down, like so many of the people who were running in with them, but somehow, by some miracle, they managed to manoeuvre through the guards and make their way past the fence, the bullets practically whizzing past their ears as they kept their heads down and they just ran ahead. Cyrus had been slightly worried about the possibility of landmines, but those luckily just proved to be rumours, the ground fairly solid when they ran into the compound.

“Buffy is gonna be so mad she missed this!” Andi yelled into Cyrus’ ear as they ran in, and Cyrus laughed, turning to smile at Andi but not slowing down, knowing that they were in what was really a life-and-death situation. But they had managed to do it, following the first wave of raiders who had managed to open the doors to the compound.

They were in Area 51.

Cyrus looked over at Andi, coming to a stop, panting. No matter the adrenaline, he was not at all used to running. He was hunched over, resting his hands on his knees, and he brought up one to shove Andi in the shoulder, who had also stopped to take a breath. They both looked at each other and immediately burst out laughing, Andi falling to the floor and rolling around, grabbing her stomach. Cyrus wiped away tears from laughing so hard, his face red as he tried to catch his breath, clutching his stomach.

“I cannot believe we are still alive right now,” Andi said breathlessly, trying to catch her breath after laughing her heart out.

“I cannot believe we were just in a shootout with the US Government forces,” Cyrus added, causing the two to laugh even more. They looked around to see more and more people run into the compound and collapse to the floor in laughter, exhaustion, panic or a cocktail combination of all three that made up a muddled and confused air of ecstasy.

That is until the sounds of bullets shot through the air, cutting that cocktail into shards.

It didn’t truly hit them that they had to run, until Cyrus let out a sharp cry, crumpling to the ground, his right knee buckling as his hand immediately went to grab it.

“Cyrus! What happened?” Andi yelled, leaning down, but she looked up to see armed guards running into the compound, machine guns in hand, aiming right in their direction.

“You should go,” Cyrus wheezed out, wincing as he pressed his leg. But Andi shook her head, turning around and picking up Cyrus in a piggyback.

“Not without you,” she muttered, before lifting Cyrus and running as fast as she could down the corridors, going deeper and deeper down into base, the corridors growing much longer and darker, more dimly lit. Less like a hospital and more like a containment facility.

Andi was beginning to grow tired, her vision dimming, not just because of the lack of light, but because of the combined exhaustion of having waited and run kilometres in the sun, and having to carry Cyrus to relative safety. But soon enough she was dragging her fet along the ground, and she was hunched forward, her breathing heavy and laboured.

“Andi, you should put me down, you’re gonna fall down,” Cyrus said, and Andi just nodded, setting him down, hearing a loud hiss from when Cyrus put weight on his injured foot.

“How bad is it?” Andi asked breathlessly, wrapping an arm around Cyrus to offer support without collapsing. Cyrus gladly accepted, dragging himself along the ground as the two of them dragged themselves down the corridor. They had managed to lose the guards, but they had also managed to lose everyone else who had run into the compound with them.

“What do you think happened to the others?” Cyrus asked, looking over at Andi who just shrugged.

“Maybe they didn’t make it past the,” she mumbled, unable to finish because she just couldn’t stomach that fact. Cyrus too gulped nervously, not wanting to think about how what had seemed like a silly, stupid daydream to them just minutes ago was also a dangerous and casualty-filled nightmare with a real life body count. And that wasn’t a fact they were really ready to truly comprehend.

“I guess we will have one hell of a report of our summer vacations when school starts huh?” Cyrus said, making Andi snort, shoving Cyrus. Unfortunately, that caused him to lose his balance, causing the two of them to tumble into a hysterically laughing heap on the ground, as they laughed out loud, forgetting the real possibility of guards coming in to find them.

“Why are we laughing so much?!” Andi wheezed, causing Cyrus to giggle more.

“We are dehydrated, hungry, and generally high on adrenaline from whatever the heck just happened,” Cyrus reasoned out amidst laughter. “Also you’re close to passing out from exhaustion and I am close to passing out from blood loss.”

“Oh yeah,” Andi said weakly, lying down on the ground much to Cyrus’ dismay. “That makes sense.” And with that, she lay down, her eyes closing as her head went limp.

“Wait, wait, Andi no I didn’t mean actually pass out!” Cyrus yelled, crawling over to her to shake her, but she was passed out cold, her breathing shallow.

The laughter seemed to evaporate almost immediately, cold dread condensing in his heart instead. Cyrus turned Andi over on her back, still desperately shaking her shoulders, his breath ragged, his vision too blurring around the edges. Wildly, Cyrus looked up, peering down the looming corridor that seemed 10 feet high and god knows how long. But Cyrus pushed himself onto his feet, ignoring the way he cried when he felt weight on the gunshot wound on his leg, instead focusing on trying to pick Andi up, grabbing her shoulders as he began to limp down the corridor, dragging her like an oversized rag doll beside him, looking around wildly as he tried to find someone, anyone, who could help him.

Cyrus looked around, and his eyes landed on a keypad next to a large metal door, and he almost leaped for joy, but soon the dread returned. God knows what the hell was behind that door and the chance of it being help was also low. But could he really care with Andi unconscious and him close to following her in that place?

Cyrus grabbed onto the door handle, cringing at the way the door rattled as he dragged himself up, but he didn’t pay much attention, instead devoting his attention to the floating numbers of the keypad before him. Cyrus gulped, trying to collect his racing thoughts enough to try and conceivably figure out how to break the keypad, allowing them to enter the room. He hunched over the keypad, ready to try and fail at guessing the combination when thankfully, the raiders came through, someone having hacked into the system. All around him, Cyrus heard a low rumbling sound, a large pulse running through the entire building, enough to shake him up. The keypad switched off, deactivating as he heard a loud metallic ‘clank’.

The door was open.

Cyrus let out a loud sigh of relief, tightening his grip on Andi’s waist as he pulled her into the room. Thankfully, she was coming to, but she was still barely awake, a clear lack of energy haunting her bones. Cyrus set her down on a bench which was facing a set of computers, and hunted around the room, looking for anything that she could eat to give her just enough energy to run back out. But at the same time, Cyrus took the opportunity to look around, seeing rows upon rows of computers and what appeared to be miniature ecosystems lined down the sides. But these were all now open, and Cyrus felt the hair on his hands rise, not knowing who or what could’ve been in them.

Well, he and Andi had come searching for aliens. But they hadn’t actually thought they’d see any.

Cyrus sighed, shaking his head slightly as he roamed around a bit more, trying to find something until his eyes landed on what appeared to be a set of granola bars.

“Yes!” Cyrus whispered, heading over to pick them up, but before he could move forward to get them, someone grabbed his elbow.

“I wouldn’t eat those if I were you,” a soft, almost robotic voice spoke and Cyrus turned around and screamed, his vision going black. The last thing he remembered was green eyes.

Okay, Cyrus was not proud of screaming before passing out, but what could he do because a guard had caught them. Or that is what he thought.

He winced at the light shining in his eyes, feeling someone’s hands running through his hair. Probably Andi. Then they weren’t dead. He peeled open his eyes, his vision still fuzzy as he came to, lifting his head off someone’s lap.

“Andi?” he whispered, and the fingers stopped running through his hair.

“Who’s Andi?” the person spoke, and Cyrus recognised the voice from who had spoken before he had fainted. Immediately, he bolted up, rubbing his eyes with his hands, narrowing his eyes as he focused on the person sitting in front of him.

At first glance, it just looked like another boy his age. But when he looked closer, he could see that they looked quite different. The person before him had sharp green eyes, a colour Cyrus hadn’t seen in any person he had ever met. Their eyes were also slightly larger than Cyrus’, taking up more space on the face. They also had a slightly blue-speckled face, and the light hitting their face had a silver shine. No matter what he tried, Cyrus couldn’t look away, enchanted and enraptured by the face before him. The person stared back at him, a small unsure smile on their face as thy stared back at Cyrus. Finally, Cyrus realised that they had asked him a question and he shook his head, tearing his eyes away.

“Uh, I, my friend who I came here with,” Cyrus mumbled, coughing lightly. The person before him tilted his head to the side, looking at him innocently. “I was looking for something for her to eat, cuz uh, she was passed out.”

“Oh! You mean the Terran there on the bench?” they asked, pointing back to the bench which was in the shadows. Cyrus furrowed his eyebrows, looking at them.

“T-Terran?”

“A resident of the planet Terra,” they said very plainly, and Cyrus’ eyes went wide.

“Oh! You mean human!” he exclaimed, and they laughed, their voice tinkly and very different than what Cyrus thought their laugh would be. It sounded like what Cyrus imagined stardust falling onto clouds would look like. Calming and enchanting.

“Um, I’m Cyrus,” Cyrus said, extending his hand forward. “I’m a Terran boy.”

“Oh, I’m TJ, a Lazaran boy then,” TJ replied, looking curiously at Cyrus’ hand before warily extending his hand to meet Cyrus’. As soon as their hands touched, Cyrus felt a shiver run down his spine, and looking up at TJ, he knew that the other boy had just experienced the same thing. They just sat there, hands joined, staring at each other, feelings mixing in their minds and hearts that confused and drew them in. But their moment was broken by a loud yell.

“Cyrus?” Andi yelled loudly, her voice much less weak than it was when Cyrus had pulled her into the room. He lifted his head, and Andi was shuffling toward him, but she wasn’t alone.

There was a girl with her, supporting her as she walked. As Cyrus looked closer, he noticed that she too, looked like TJ. But honestly, he didn’t know whether he could trust his eyes, so Cyrus looked around and he grabbed his NERF gun, causing TJ to flinch away slightly.

“It, it’s okay,” he whispered, placing a hand on the gun. “She’s my sister. She’s not gonna hurt you or your friend.”

Cyrus let out a sigh, putting down the gun, but not before gesturing to it. “It’s literally plastic, it couldn’t hurt a fly.”

“What?” he asked, confused at what Cyrus was saying.

“A fly? Insects? Annoying motherfuckers?”

That made Andi snort loudly, falling to the ground laughing, pulling TJ’s sister down with her into a heap. Cyrus also started laughing, clutching his stomach as he rolled around on the ground. Soon enough, TJ also joined in, the four of them just laughing hysterically.

Wiping a tear, Cyrus used the table nearby to try and lift himself off the ground, but TJ smiled, grabbing his hands delicately as he pulled Cyrus up. “I got you, it’s okay,” he said softly, and God he was falling for that voice and that smile and this is so weird, Cyrus thought to himself as he smiled back at TJ, wrapping an arm around TJ’s waist. They waddled over to Andi and her new friend, who were in the exact same position as he and TJ. And if he were to judge by Andi’s expression as she looked at TJ’s sister, he knew she was feeling the same way he was.

“So, how are we planning on doing this?” Cyrus hissed, and Andi turned around, loudly shushing him as she peered around the door. TJ’s sister, whose name Cyrus learned was Amber, looked between the two of them nervously, then looking over at her brother.

“Are you sure its good?” she asked, pointing around the corner, and TJ reached over, grabbing her hand and spoke to her in a language that neither Andi nor Cyrus seemed to understand, probably Lazaran, but they got the gist of TJ comforting Amber, that it was okay, that them running away from the captivity of the compound was good. Eventually she nodded slowly, touching foreheads with TJ, but she still seemed unsure. Andi turned around to look at her, grabbing both her hands.

“It’ll be okay, I’ll protect you,” Andi said softly, squeezing her hands, and Amber smiled, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind Andi’s ear, touching her forehead to Andi’s. When she pulled away, Andi had a dazed look on her face, all the bliss in the world discoverable in her eyes, and she drew a shaky breath, a stray tear escaping her eye as she turned back to peer around the corner.

“What was that?” Cyrus whispered, looking over at TJ, who was laughing softly at Amber.

“A forehead touch on Lazar is the gesture of love, of togetherness. Of bonding. You don’t do to someone you don’t trust and care for,” TJ whispered quietly, and Cyrus nodded, looking back between the two of them as TJ continued. “They bonded while she helped her wake up.”

“I must’ve been out for a while,” Cyrus remarked, and TJ smiled at him as Cyrus kept looking ahead.

Andi suddenly stood straight, turning back to look at Cyrus. “How’s your foot Cy?”

TJ and Amber looked at him curiously, as Cyrus lifted his trouser leg, wincing at the still prevalent pain. “Yup. Still shot. Still in pain.”

“Oh my god,” Amber exclaimed, crouching down to look at it. She reached forward to touch it, earning a loud hiss from Cyrus. “That looks bad. You walked on that?”

“Well, more like, ran,” Cyrus mumbled as TJ too leaned over, gasping as he caught sight of the wound.

“You shouldn’t run now,” TJ said worriedly, looking over at Cyrus. He stared back at him, trying to silently communicate that he was fine, just grazed by, he could still run. But TJ just reached forward, interlocking their fingers together (an action that made Cyrus want to collapse into a pile of mush), pleading with him silently.

“Why are you asking Andi?” Cyrus asked, looking away from TJ guiltily. Andi sighed, turning back to look at him.

“Cuz we’re gonna have to run back the way we came if we hope to get out,” she muttered, and Cyrus groaned, leaning against the doorframe. TJ looked at him worriedly, and Amber tapped Andi’s shoulder.

“Why is he groaning?” she asked, and Andi glared at him, her eyes still worried.

“Cuz he’s a drama queen.”

“Says the girl who fainted when I joked about her passing out!”

“Oh hush you baby.”

“You’re a baby.”

“Hi,” TJ said softly, pulling Cyrus lightly by the shoulder. “Please don’t fight.”

“Oh no, we aren’t fighting,” Cyrus said quickly, pointing between him and Andi. “We’re just teasing.”

“Teasing?” TJ asked innocently, tilting his head to the side. Amber just groaned, yelling back in their language, saying something that sounded like she was making fun of TJ, and he retorted, making faces and yelling back. It went on for a while, and Andi and Cyrus just looked at each other, trying to unsuccessfully stifle their laughter. But soon enough, TJ stopped talking, his eyes going wide.

“Ohhhh, this teasing,” he said, looking at Cyrus with a kid-like smile, making Cyrus laugh as he nodded, and before he could think, he leaned over and kissed TJ on the cheek.

As soon as he realised what he had done, Cyrus froze, eyes wide. “I, uh, Andi I’ll watch for guards right now,” he said quickly, pushing his way forward, Andi staring at him with a playful smirk. TJ just stared after him, his fingers tracing his cheek where Cyrus had kissed him. He turned over to Andi who came to stand next to him.

“What was that?” he whispered, and Andi smiled softly, looking at Cyrus.

“What we do here to show love, togetherness and bonding.”

The calmness of those moments was a real distant cry from the mad dash Andi, Cyrus, Amber and TJ were doing through the entire base, as they hurtled down the halls, pushing carts and shelves and personnel out of the way as they raced down the halls, Andi and Cyrus trying to recall the vague direction they had run in when they were running from the shootout. But luckily they were able to find their way to the exit. The bad news?

There were guards behind them too.

“Oh I am not getting shot too!” Andi yelled. “I can’t explain that to Bex!”

“How are you gonna explain Amber and TJ?” Cyrus yelled back.

Andi had a firm hold of Amber’s hand, dragging her along. Cyrus wasn’t holding TJ’s hand, how much ever he wanted to, but he kept looking back, making sure the boy kept up with him. Amber and TJ were wheezing and panting, running as fast as they could. But their feet were starting to give way.

“Cyrus!” TJ called out, as his knees buckled, crumpling to the ground. Cyrus turned around, ducking to avoid any fire, crouching to look at TJ.

“I, I’m too weak. You go, I’m making you slow,” TJ said softly, not meeting his eyes. But Cyrus just wrapped an arm around TJ’s waist, putting TJ’s arm around his shoulder, pulling him to his feet as he pulled him along.

“I’m not leaving you behind,” Cyrus said, catching up with Andi and Amber.

Eventually, after many close calls with bullets and a lot of tripping over rocks, the four of them finally managed to make it out of the perimeter of Area 51.

“We did it!” Andi yelled as soon as they crossed the fence, raising her and Amber’s hands in victory as she collapsed to the ground.

“Yes!!!” Cyrus soon followed, pulling TJ to sit on a rock. He hugged Andi tight, spinning her around.

“I can’t believe we actually did it!”

“We’re still alive!”

“We found people!” And then both simultaneously, “Buffy isn’t gonna believe this!”

The two of them laughed, hugging each other tight. Amber made her way over to TJ, placing a hand on his shoulder, a wide smile on her face.

“We’re free?” she asked quietly, and TJ nodded, getting up to hug his sister. ‘We’re free.”

Andi and Cyrus looked over at them, smiling softly and they glanced back at each other. Andi walked up to Amber, giving her the biggest hug.

“I can’t wait for you to meet Bex, my mom,” she said with a bright smile. “You’re gonna love her. And Buffy!”

“Can’t wait,” Amber said, biting her lip. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Andi’s nose, leaning back quickly. “Was that right to your customs?”

Andi just stared back at her, cheeks red and brain melted. “Uh, yes. Yes, very right. Um yeah.”

Cyrus shook his head laughing, looking back at TJ. “You’ll like it in Shadyside. If you wanna come with us, that is,” eh added quickly, scratching the inside of his thumb. “You don’t have to.”

“Cyrus,” TJ said with a soft smile, taking his hand gently and interlocking their fingers. “I’d like to.”

Cyrus smiled brightly, but it softened as he saw TJ step closer and cup his cheek. Gulping nervously, TJ brought Cyrus’ forehead to touch his, closing his eyes.

And Cyrus just understood what it meant. He couldn’t explain the feeling. It wasn’t like a puzzle piece slotting into place. It wasn’t an earth shattering realisation. It was quiet. It was the feeling of a mug of hot chocolate pressed into your hand in the dead of winter. It was a hug from Buffy as he helped her out. It was Andi putting on a bracelet she had spent days making for him. It was him curling up with a book on a rainy day. It was him looking into TJ’s eyes for the first time.

A soft, gentle smile on his face as he leaned back, Cyrus looked up at TJ. He didn’t know what was going to happen after those moments. No one did. But he knew he would never forget TJ.

“Now I know what it means.”

~~~~~~

this started out stupid why is this so long

#andi mack #my fic #tyrus #ambi #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #amber kippen #amber (andi mack)#andi #fanfiction #fanfic

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littlelovelyspiderling · 7 years ago

Text

A Sinister Situation

This is why I’m not allowed to have free time. I just spend it all writing this crap. Oh well :P Last one before going back to requests, promise!!

Spider-Man is caught in the clutches of his worst nemeses. A deadly predicament turns into a fun little game, which turns out not so fun for the web-slinging hero.

word count: 2,285

This is bad. Really bad.

Spider-Man ducked to avoid a swinging tentacle, leapt to dodge a bolt of electricity, and flung himself behind a cabinet as an energy blast splintered the metal into crumbs. His heart hammered against his ribs. Blood dripped down the side of his face.

There’s too many of them. I’m too weak.

“Come out, Spider-Man!” Shocker laughed. “If you give up, we promise to kill you quickly! You won’t feel a thing!”

Flashes of light and waves of heat washed over the trembling hero. This was insane. All he’d been doing was tracking a lead on Shocker’s lousy posse, the Enforcers. It was meant to be a laid-back, low-key endeavor. Never had he anticipated accidentally stumbling upon the Sinister Six’s secret base. Thankfully, only three members of the gang had been home. Not-so-thankfully, Peter was just getting over a wicked case of the flu.

He didn’t feel sick anymore, but was still pretty fatigued and frail from the battle. Nowhere near ready to be fighting three of his most powerful enemies at once.

Gritting his teeth, Peter frantically adjusted the settings on his web-shooter, then darted into the open.

“Taser web!” he cried, firing a line from his wrist. The webbing hit Shocker’s right gauntlet, sending sparks flying from the weapon and a jolt through his body. He screeched, crashing into Electro, who only shocked him more. The pair collapsed into an electrified heap on the floor. Peter would’ve taken time to celebrate, were he not immediately met with a metal arm slamming into his chest.

Spider-Man flew across the room and crashed into a table of devices, gasping from the impact. Hardly a second later, the arm grabbed him by the ankle and launched him into a concrete wall. The hit rattled him to his core. He slid to the floor like a dead bug on a windshield, moaning in pain, delirious.

Octavius lifted the limp hero up and pinned him against the wall with all four of his mechanical limbs. Peter grimaced, struggling weakly against his hold.

“Oh, you are so in for it now,” Shocker spat. His gauntlets were blackened in places and his eyes were wild with rage. He marched up to Spider-Man, ripping the webbing off his fist.

“What should we do? Fry him? Let me fry him to a crisp!” Electro gathered a ball of electricity between his fingers, grinning from ear to ear.

“No,” Shocker hissed. “I’m the one who gets to do it. I’m killing him.” He flexed his hands at his sides eagerly, ominously. “And since you didn’t give in nicely like I asked, I’m gonna make it slow. Real slow.”

Peter’s blood was ice. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t get away.

“Use you gauntlets,” Doc Oc suggested. “Turn his insides into smoothie.”

Shocker smiled. “What a wonderful idea, Otto. With pleasure.”

This is it, Peter realized.

Shocker powered up his gauntlets and stepped forward.

I’m about to die.

He wrapped his hands around his ribcage. Peter knew how destructive the gauntlets could be from a distance; at this range, his body would shatter from the inside-out, mangled in seconds.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

“Any last words, asshole?” Shocker asked. Peter was too afraid to speak. And yet, something was off, something wasn’t right. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but…

“Really? The most talkative prick I know has nothing to say on his deathbed?”

He blinked. Then it hit him.

My spidey sense isn’t going off.

“Wait—” he began to say, his brain a mush of terror and confusion. But then the gauntlets hummed to life.

“Too late,” Shocker sneered. The deadly devices drilled into his torso.

The sensation was…not what Peter was expecting, to say the least. Not what anyone was expecting.

Instead of blasting his entrails to bits, the gauntlets simply vibrated against his ribs. Before Peter realized it, the scream that had been building inside his throat transformed into an outburst of hysterical giggling.

“Wha—ahahaha! W-wait—whahat—ehehe! Hahahahehe!”

Electro frowned. “Uh…what’s happening?”

“What the hell?” Shocker exclaimed. He took his hands off Spider-Man’s ribcage and stared at them bewilderedly. The young hero was flushed with a mix of relief, embarrassment, and giggly confusion.

“Are your gauntlets malfunctioning or something?” Octavius asked.

“That stupid little freak must have fried them with his webbing,” he growled. “Give me a second.”

Electro turned back to Spider-Man with a curious smile. “Were you just…laughing? Were his gauntlets tickling you?”

Peter reddened even more. This was a very weird conversation to have with someone who was about to murder you in cold blood. “Um…I don’t know. I’m just glad they didn’t, y’know, turn me inside-out, like all of you were hoping.”

To Peter’s disbelief, Electro placed his hands on his stomach and started scurrying his fingers up his sides. He expected his touch to zap him, to hurt, but instead it just kind of tingled.

And tickled. A lot.

“Aha!” Spider-Man yelped, squirming and twitching to try to get away. “H-hehey, quihihit it! Ehehahahaha! Whahat are you doohoohing?”

“Aw, look! The big bad Spider-Man is ticklish! How cute is that?”

“Gehehehet ohoff!” Peter squeaked. This sure was going to be a sad way to go—humiliated by his enemies, followed by death by implosion. Things couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“Alright, fixed,” Shocker said, pounding his gauntlets together. He turned back to Spider-Man, gaze cold as stone. “Now take off his mask. I want to watch the light leave his eyes.”

Peter paled. Never mind. They can.

“Ooh, smart!” Electro agreed. “Now we can finally see the face of the freak who’s been causing us so much trouble. And then, y’know, kill him.”

Peter didn’t even have time to protest before Electro yanked the mask off his head. He gaped at his nemeses, his secret demolished, his messy, curly hair sticking up in all different directions. His nemeses gaped back, stunned.

“He looks…” Otto began.

“Twelve,” Electro finished.

Peter didn’t know whether to be terrified, shocked, or insulted. “I…I’m not twelve,” he managed to say. He strained uselessly against Octavius’ grip.

“He’s a…kid,” Shocker said. “You’re a kid.”

“Your face is a kid,” he shot back. He was too afraid to come up with anything clever.

“Spider-Man?” Electro snorted, fluttering his fingers against his belly. “More like Spider-Nugget. Did you come up with that name yourself?”

Peter fought so hard not to laugh, but it was simply impossible. It was so much worse now that his face wasn’t hidden. His pink cheeks and giggly smile were free for all diabolical eyes to see.

“Mhmmhehehe! S-screhew yohohou Mahahahaxwell! Ehehehahaha!”

“Aw. He’s trying so hard to be tough. But Spidey’s just too tiny and ticklish, isn’t he?”

The teasing was just as bad as the wiggly fingers skittering across his skin. Octavius rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder.

“Shocker? Any day now.”

Schultz hesitated, glancing between his hands and Spider-Man’s face. “Uh…right. Okay.” He strode forward, nudging Electro out of the way, who had rendered the kid breathless with laughter. The happy spark in his eyes vanished instantly when the Shocker’s gauntlets lifted towards him.

Schultz recognized the look. He recognized it all too well.

Peter could tell Shocker was acting a lot more reluctant than before. Then his gauntlets hummed back to life and clamped on to his torso. Apparently, he wasn’t reluctant enough.

But, once again, bone-crushing pain didn’t follow. Instead, the gauntlets started vibrating again. More than before. A lot more.

And Peter Parker was, once again, rendered a laughing, wriggling mess. It tickled so much, he thought he might implode anyway.

“Ahahahahahehehaha!” He shrieked. He thrashed helplessly, curling his hands into fists. “Stohohahap trihihicking mehehehe!”

“Uh oh, looks like they’re malfunctioning again,” Shocker said robotically. He started moving his hands all over his torso, kneading his fingers into his sides, tummy, and underarms. “Give it a minute. Maybe they just need to warm up.”

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as Spider-Man laughed and laughed and laughed. He’s doing it on purpose! he realized. Oh thank God. He isn’t going to kill me. At this point, however, he didn’t know which one was crueler: murdering him, or more of this.

Because the gauntlets weren’t just buzzing anymore. They were sending out little pulses, which were attacking every inch of Peter’s torso. Normally, the pulses hurt, like miniature explosions. Right now, the pulses were like tiny tickle-bombs going off every second, wrecking his entire midsection with unbearable sensations.

That combined with the ten buzzing fingers squeezing and tweaking his most ticklish spots, Peter was going absolutely mad.

“HEHEHEHEHEHELP!” Spider-Man cried. Every other giggle was interrupted by bouts of hiccups. “PLEHEHEHEHEASE! I CAHAHAHAHAHAN’T BREHEHEHETHEHEHAHA!”

“Schultz,” Otto snorted knowingly. Shocker glanced back at him.

“Hold on, they’re getting there,” he assured him. His gaze returned to the squealing, beat-red kid in front of him, and he hinted a smile. “See? Spidey’s about to burst. They’re not even working properly, and he’s already begging for mercy.”

“EHEHAHAHAHAHA SHIHIHIHIHIT! MAHAHAHAHAKE IHIT STOHOHAHAHAHAP! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Yeah, it’s definitely killing him,” Electro giggled.

Nicked with sympathy, Shocker finally relinquished his tickle attack. Spider-Man was nothing but a red, giggling blob. His whole torso tingled from the energy pulses, like a bunch of tiny feathers were brushing his skin.

“Well darn. I guess my gauntlets really are broken.” He turned away and shrugged. “Oh well. I suppose someone else will have to kill him instead.”

“Why won’t you finish the job?” Otto growled. “Five minutes ago, you were ready to pulverize his entrails into jelly.”

Schultz winced shyly. “I know, but…” He crossed his arms against his chest with a sigh. “Look, I have a niece who looks close to him in age. I can’t just go murdering a kid like that, no matter how much he’s pissed me off.”

“You literally kill people all the time,” Octavius said.

“Yeah. But not kids. I mean, look at him.”

With his pink face, messy hair, and listlessly giggly smile, it was hard for anyone to deny how adorable Spider-Man was. Otto scoffed.

“Fine. Electro, you do it.”

Electro blinked. “Oh. Um, alrighty.”

The super villain approached the young hero, who was still recovering from Shocker’s vicious tickle torture. When he saw Electro coming toward him, he cringed.

“Oh man, plehease,” he whimpered. “I hate this so muhuch.”

“Really? I think it’s pretty fun.” Clearing his throat, Electro gingerly raised one finger and pressed it to Peter’s chest. “One bolt through the heart should, uh, do the trick.”

A flash of terror glinted in the teenager’s eyes. He could feel the static heat seeping from his fingertip through the material of his costume, burning against his skin, moments from frying him to death. He met the villain’s ice cold stare.

Then Electro huffed.

“Dammit! I can’t do it!” His hands suddenly pounced on Peter’s belly, scribbling it with tickles. “He’s just too cute!”

Peter giggled wildly, throwing his head back and wrenching against his restraints. Electro’s tickling was less intense, more playful, but still just as insufferable.

Not to mention embarrassing. So. Freaking. Embarrassing.

Why couldn’t they just kill him already?

“Ehehehahahagh! Stohohopstohahahapstahahahap it!”

“This is ridiculous,” Otto grumbled.

Electro stepped back and gestured toward a very loopy and winded Spider-Man. “If you’re so eager to kill him, then be my guest.”

“Yeah, Doctor Octopus,” Shocker called. “You kill him.”

Octavius tilted his chin toward the ceiling. “If I let him go to kill him, then he will get away. It has to be one of you.”

Shocker waved him off. “You don’t want to kill him just like we don’t. Admit it.”

“Well if we don’t kill him, then what will we do with him? We can’t just let him go; he knows where our base is.”

Schultz tapped his chin in thought. A sinister smile spread across his lips. “Well, we’ll just have to make sure he never tells anyone about this place. And that he never comes here again.”

Shocker turned back to Spider-Man, walking slowly. Even though he knew he wasn’t going to kill him this time, Peter still stiffened in fear.

“Listen very carefully, Spidey. In exchange for your silence, we will set you free. If you promise to never speak of our lair to anyone, and to never return here, we will not kill you today. Understand?”

Peter nodded eagerly. He was lying. He was sure they knew that. Still, he just wanted to get out of here. He couldn’t take another second of this back-and-forth, heart-attack-inducing game of ‘murder or tickling’.

Shocker continued toward him.

“Good,” he said with a smile. “Because you do know what will happen if you don’t hold up your end of the bargain, right?”

“I do,” Electro snickered.

Peter blushed even more than he already was. He hoped it didn’t show. “Mmhmm. Yep. Got it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re positive?”

“Yes!”

“You don’t need me to explain?”

“Yes! I mean—no! I mean—” He grimaced at his mistake. “You know what I mean!”

Shocker tilted his head to the side. “Mm, no, I don’t think I do.”

“Shocker, I swear…”

Schultz held up his gauntlets with an evil grin. “I think I’d better demonstrate, just to make certain that everything’s clear.”

“I think I’d better help,” Electro concurred.

“Nohoho!” Peter pleaded. They weren’t even touching him yet, and he was already helpless with giggles. “Guhuhuys—come ohohohon—plehehehease! Gehehet awahahay! I swehehear—I swehehear I’m gohohonna—ehehehaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!”

By the time they finally set him free, Peter was in shambles. If any of his other villains found out about his weakness, he was absolutely screwed. He decided if he did break his promise and return to the Sinister Six’s secret base, he’d best be at his full strength. And he’d definitely bring backup.

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one-trigger-lullaby · 6 years ago

Text

Part two of Bakugo getting revenge for Mineta sabotaging Midoriya

Link to part one

You Can Lead a Horse to Water but it won't Save it from These Fucking Hands

Bakugo had remained unmoving by Deku's side, his anger left to fester until it had reached the boiling point. His muscles were stiff with tension that begged to be released in the way of soot-covered fists and blood-soaked ground.

His eyes trailed to the door as Aizawa entered, his eyes glowing red and his light gray scarf weaving through the air around him. He looked towards them and his eyes seemed to dim a bit once Deku looked up at him from his place on the ground.

Before Aizawa had had even a second to open his mouth, Bakugo was jabbing a sweat-glistened finger down to point at the object of his anger, drawing the dark-faced teacher's attention to the purple glob stuck to the bottom of Deku's, prone-on-the-fucking-floor Deku's, bright red high-top sneaker.

The man's eyes glowed anew as he took a moment to study it, his lip pulling up in an almost unnoticeable sneer as he no doubt recognized the offensive thing for what it was. Aizawa met Bakugo's eye, his own afire. An understanding passed between them. "As of now, Mineta Minoru, student of UA in class 1-A, is expelled from UA on charges of assault and attempted murder of a certified hero."

Section 3:4:A: Any person(s) charged with assault, attempted murder, murder, manslaughter(Involuntary manslaughter withstanding under certain specifications, see Section 4:1:E), assassination, or sabotage(Section 4:15:E) of a certified hero(Student licenses certified by the UHA withstanding) are to have their status changed to A-Class Villain Citizenship(Section 5:3:V) effective immediately and assumed as armed an dangerous. Pursuing heroes are permitted to use deadly force in apprehending villain. (Further regulations continued in Section 3:5:A)

Bakugo's eyes went wild with his grin. Aizawa came to take his place, kneeling by Deku's side and speaking quietly to him. Bakugo paid them no mind, fury and vicious satisfaction intermingling in his throat, twisting into fiery chaos that ripped and tore down his body. He wanted revenge and, with Aizawa's pretty little words, he'd be able to have it.

He turned to leave, ignoring whatever else Aizawa was saying to Deku, uncaring, really. Just as he got to the door, Aizawa's voice stopped him short. "Bring him back alive, please, Bakugo."

He heard Deku pipe up quietly in question but Bakugo just pushed on. "No fucking promises."

Bakugo Katsuki was on a warpath and the scorch marks his feet left on the floors through his burned-through soles warned all who saw them of it. His hands were a steady crackle of explosive energy, his sweat running down his arms in cascades as his anger manifested itself.

He made a B-line from the training grounds towards the dorm buildings, pushing past any students that were stupid enough to stand in his way. In a show of good judgment, most stepped back immediately, some even activating their quirks as he passed as if they expected him to turn on them.

But no, he had a target. One worth more than those extras.

The wide doors' hinges cracked and twisted as he blew them open, hanging on an awkward angle. The students lingering behind it jumped away with cries of surprise and Bakugo saw a flash of red in the corner of his eye as he stomped past.

A large, rough hand grabbed his arm, slipping away easily when Bakugo tugged it away with a wordless snarl. "Woah, dude, what the hell happened!?"

Bakugo turned his head with a snap to look back at Kirishima who held his nitroglycerin-covered hand at his side with a limp wrist and a confused look. "Don't touch me."

Kirishima recoiled at the acid in his tone and hung back for a second as Bakugo continued past him. He heard the redhead follow soon after, wordless, almost like silent support. Bakugo didn't care; he could do what he wanted as long as he stayed out of his goddamn way.

He demolished the three flights of stairs it would take to get to the floor purple-dick crept on and Bakugo could practically feel Kirishima's confused stare burn deeper into his back as they got further and further into the residential area but Bakugo, quite frankly, didn't have to explain himself. Not to him, not to anyone.

The shit stain lived on the fourth floor of the building, in the fourth room to the left with an obnoxious purple and red-splotched door. On it hung a tell-tale photo of a large-breasted woman with black crosses over her otherwise exposed nipples.

Bakugo didn't pause once he came upon it, his shoulders heaving with his furious breath. In a second, the doorknob was smashed into the charred door as he blew a hole in it before flinging what was left of the door into the far wall of the room.

"Bakugo, what the hell are you doing?" Bakugo ignored Kirishima in favor stepping into the room with heavy footsteps and looking around the apparently empty space.

Bakugo's fists clenched. "Fucker's not here. Fuck."

He turned on his heel with every intention of walking out but the redhead blocking the doorway didn't seem intent on moving willingly. He tried to push past despite this but he was met with quirk-hardened shoulders as the dumbass physically stopped him, planting an unmoving hand on the other side of the doorway.

"Chill the hell out, man, what are you doing?" Kirishima asked, his sharp teeth dug into his lip.

A long, smoke-filled breath left through Bakugo's nose. His eyes were pure fire as he glared at his longtime friend.

"Mineta," he ground out, "is an A-class villain." He almost reveled in the look of dumb shock that came over Kirishima's face.

"What? But..." Kirishima's arm fell from the doorway as he turned his nose down with a lost look on his face.

Bakugo shrugged past him, clenching his jaw tightly as he took in the hurt puppy look on the redhead's face. His voice was quiet as he confided in his friend, "The fucker could've killed Deku today."

Kirishima's head snapped to the side so fast Bakugo heard his neck crack. "What? Is he okay?"

Bakugo gave a tight nod, crossing his arms. "But purple dick won't be after I'm finished with him."

Bakugo waited as Kirishima seemed to search for something in his eyes. After a long beat, he nodded with surety. He slapped Bakugo's shoulder. "I'm with you."

"Common room." Was all Bakugo said as he turned and walked out of the room, humbly reassured by Kirishima's rock-solid presence at his back.

Coincidentally, most of their classmates could've been found in the common room that evening. Soon-to-be-dead Mineta Minoru was no exception to that.

Laughter was what met him as he entered, his fellow classmates stationed at every corner of the room and completely, deliciously unaware of what was about to happen. Tokoyami was reading in the bright purple armchair in the corner of the expansive room; Uraraka, frog-porn, and pink hair were standing in front of the pool table, jabbering on excitedly in between loud pings of cue hitting ball.

Best of all, Mineta was standing on the thousand-times replaced coffee table, holding up a golden cup with that stupid fucking atrocity of a cape tied around his duck-like neck as he posed for Kaminari who scribbled madly at a piece of sketching paper, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his lips.

"Bakugo! Come play!" Pink-hair shouted as she spotted him lingering in the doorway. As he had never taken his off of the little gremlin, he saw the millisecond his target recognized what she had just said, freezing on the table.

"I have something to take care of, first," He told her, slowly walking towards Mineta as the teenager twisted towards him with a look or horror.

"What? But..." Mina trailed off, looking back at the stoic Kirishima flanking him. She seemed to pull back a bit, standing back to watch as they approached the coffee table.

Mineta had turned fully by this point, leaning almost entirely off of the table, holding the shiny golden cup in his hand like a weapon. "B-b-b-b-bakugo, buddy, come on, let's not get hasty..."

Bakugo's palms cracked and fizzled with heat and tiny explosions, his grin growing wild as Mineta took a tumble off of the table, collapsing in a rightfully terrified heap of ugly.

Kaminari had looked up at this point, his obnoxiously yellow eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "Bakugo? What's—"

Kaminari got cut off with a flinch as another explosion popped in his palm, and bright and loud enough to give everyone in the room pause. Bakugo allowed Mineta scramble to his feet, palms faced forward in a futile attempt at appeasement.

"Please, come on, I didn't do anything," Mineta pleaded. His words made the boil in his blood rise in temperature, heating his insides until toxic sweat dripped down his straining temple.

"Didn't do anything?" Bakugo repeated in a hiss that scuttled out between clenched teeth. His nostrils flared as he took a large step forward, stopped short by Kirishima who had put a hand on his arm.

He rounded on the solid teen to give him a piece of his fucking mind but Kirishima wasn't looking at him—he was staring hard at the pale, shivering lump of shit in front of them.

Kirishima pushed his way in front of Bakugo, using the hand he had on Bakugo as leverage. In a show of good faith mixed with curiosity, Bakugo let him without fuss.

"Mineta," Kirishima started slowly, "what did you do?"

"Nothing!" He exclaimed desperately. "He-he's crazy, Kirishima, crazy!" His voice went annoyingly high at the end.

"And why would he lie?" Kirishima crossed his arm, muscles bulging. Mineta watched with a gulp.

Mina and Uraraka veered closer in the corner of Bakugo's eye, Mina by Bakugo and Uraraka somewhere in between. "B—because he's crazy!" Mineta insisted. He looked at Uraraka with a wet sheen in his eyes. "You know he's always trying to hurt me for no reason."

Bakugo sneered. Little prick. Going after the oblivious, kind-hearted chick that the shit had never personally offended. It would've almost been smart if he weren't so fucking stupid.

Officially out of patience, Bakugo pushed Kirishima away and raised his hands. "Say bye-bye you little fuck."

Mineta cried out in fear as Bakugo's palms crackled and heat licked his skin.

"Stop it Bakugo!" Bakugo pulled back abruptly, drawing his hands in as Uraraka threw herself in front of Mineta, her doe-eyes wide and determined. Bakugo ground his teeth. Bleeding hearts of the fucking world unite.

"Bakugo, you can't just push people around whenever you want because you have a strong quirk. You're going to hurt someone." Uraraka held a wide stance. "I'm tired of watching you bully everyone just because you can."

"At least I don't sexually harass people like the worthless scum you're defending," Bakugo sneered, leaning in close to her face. She seemed to hesitate.

"He's lying!" Mineta screeched

"I'm not," Bakugo challenged.

Uraraka looked conflicted for all of a second before she seemed to shake herself out of it, returning to glaring at Bakugo. "That's enough, Bakugo. Leave him alone."

Bakugo's eyes narrowed. "Sure. Let's say, in this perfect little fucked up world of yours, I leave him alone. Then what? Oh yeah." He rolled his eyes and tapped the side of his head. "Someone else will take care of it. Nah, I'd rather do it myself."

"Why would someone be after Mineta?" Mina piped up beside him, looking uncertain.

"Uraraka, move," Kirishima said, his face flat and joyless. He put a hand on her forearm and tugged gently. She stood strong and frowned.

"Why do you let him do this, Kirishima? You don't have to let him push you around," Uraraka said, her voice softer as she spoke to the redhead of whom Bakugo was sure she held much more fondness for than that of which she held for himself.

"Uraraka," Kirishima said gently, "Mineta's a villain citizen, you have to move."

Her eyes went wide and Mina seemed to give up on her line of questioning, freezing. "What? But—"

"Fucker tried to kill Deku this morning," Bakugo informed helpfully. "Move the fuck out of my way before I move you myself."

Kirishima pulled a shocked Uraraka out of the way, letting her process in the sidelines as Bakugo moved forward.

"What?!" Mineta scrambled onto the couch, going over the back of it. "I didn't try to kill anyone!"

"No?" Bakugo cracked his knuckles. "It's got your sticky little fingers all over it, fuckface." He stepped up and over the table, onto the couch.

"Woah, woah, woah, Bakugo, let's think about this! You can't just kill me!"

"No?" Bakugo quirked a brow. "Then why isn't anyone stopping me?"

Mineta looked around at his silent, grim-faced classmates filling the room and watching but making no move to halt Bakugo's actions. "B-because they're scared of you."

"Not even close," Bakugo told him almost joyously.

"Villains who attempt to murder or assassinate licensed heroes are classified under Class A," Tokoyami said, having finally stood from the armchair and wandered closer, watching the goings-on with a look of neutrality.

Horror overtook Mineta's features. "No, n-no!"

"That's right, you little shit, it turns out I have everything fucking right to blow you off the fucking map." An explosion popped. "And I'm going to."

Bakugo hopped over the back of the couch with ease and gripped Mineta by the throat before he could scramble away like the terrified worm he was. Mineta cried out, his tiny fists scrambling to latch onto Bakugo's thickly-veined arms.

"Please!" Mineta looked at the others pleadingly. "C-come on guys, you... you can't just..." He trailed off as none of his 'friends' were able to meet his eye.

Bakugo drew him in close. "You hurt my partner. I'm going to enjoy ripping you apart."

The familiar smell of smoke and nitroglycerin was what Midoriya woke up to. His body was numb and his head was high and floaty, but he could recognize his partner's unique scent despite it. It always followed the blonde like a fused trail.

It got especially strong, Midoriya had noted long ago, after he'd used his quirk in a fight.

He didn't know how long he'd been asleep, barely remembered making it off the ground, but it didn't seem like nearly long enough when he finally opened his eyes.

Bakugo was seated at his bedside, one leg crossed over the other as he read over a magazine with All Might on the front cover. As he turned a page in the mag, Midoriya noticed that his fingertips were soot-covered and dark.

Midoriya frowned, squinting. "Kacchan? What's that? What did you do?"

Bakugo looked at Midoriya innocently, his eyebrows raised. "Nothing."

Rolling his eyes, Midoriya nodded to his hands. "Training?"

Bakugo glanced down at his own hands as if this was the first time he'd seen them. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Something like that."

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