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5-falsehoods-phonated · 4 years

Note

No problem! What if you used Cold Blooded Torture and Trying to Wake Them Up? (I would like it if you used Logan as the victim but you can do whoever!)

(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written.)

Requests for this card are closed for now as I have quite a bit to work on with this and personal projects. An ordered wip post will be made after this one if you’re curious what I’m working on. Also i apologize for this being written so long after you requested it, my hiatus took a little longer than expected. I hope you enjoy this though!

Across The Hall He Waits For You

Summary: Logan wakes up in a confusing environment with an even more confusing man keeping him prisoner. But just when he thinks he's finally free, he only becomes more trapped.

Warnings: psychological torture, physical violence, crying, minor character death, blood, broken bones. If there are more you need added please let me know!

Prompt: Cold Blooded Torture, Trying to Wake Them Up

Ships: Analogical, Logan x Virgil

WC: 4, 805

AO3 Link

Logan's breath caught as the faint screaming finally cut off, the final echoes bouncing around in his cell until they faded out completely. His was a soundproof room, as he expected the other's had to be since it seemed as if under any other circumstances this would be a regular house. The walls were lined with acoustic panels from floor to ceiling, the latter covered with them save for the light source and the former having plush deep green carpeting that was covered with a plastic tarp around where his chair sat. Logan shivered involuntarily as he thought for the umpteenth time what that could mean for him.

The chair was simple and wooden, his bare legs sticking to it uncomfortably with his ankles and knees strapped down tightly with creaking leather strips. The fact that they seemed to be little more than modified belts gave him the barest hint of hope that maybe whoever was keeping him here for whatever reason wasn't experienced in...whatever it was they were doing that Logan carefully pushed to the back of his mind. The window was shut and boarded up with more panelling from what he could see over his shoulder but dim light still filtered through to him from the slightly open door.

He smiled thinly as it reminded him of his son, always needing the door open just a bit with some form of light coming through to scare away the monsters he was sure were lurking in the darkest corners of his room, imagination that was so bright in the sun turned menacing fangs towards him in the dark, making him cry and run down the hall to their room most nights to crawl safely between him and his husband. Something that he now very much understood as slow tears tracked down his cheeks, wrists straining against more creaking bonds that held his hands securely behind the back of the chair. He hung his head low as he once again wracked his brain for any reason he could possibly be here.

A prank? Much too cruel of one to pull on anyone, especially for this long. It had been at least a day from what Logan could assess, maybe longer as he didn't know how long he had been unconcious in the room. Everything was placed just a bit too dilerberatly for this to be a prank as well, his bonds just a bit too tight, the fact that he was naked except for his boxers and the people who knew him certainly knew how uncomfortable he would be with it. So that left more malicious reasons. He was held like he was going to be tortured, that much he could gathe from the screams. The tarp made it seem like it would be heavily physical, though no tools were present in the room from what he could see to give a sense of how. Had a serial killer taken him? He hadn't heard of any cases. Assasination? He wasn't that important to his knowledge, a lowly lab tech for a blood lab hardly jumped out as being anyone with important enough knowledge to warrant whatever he was in for. That left just a random person taking another random person in to do with what they would, which also made very little sense since the room was so well prepared.

All the thinking did was deepen the pit of anxiety curling his stomach muscles tight and making him shake slightly with fear and anticipation, thoughts bouncing from one point in his skull to the next making him even more disoriented than he was before. He craved for something, anything to happen, just so long as he wasn't isolated with his spiraling thoughts anymore, on a chair his clammy skin stuck to with little relief from shifting and creaking leather binding him to it in a way that had most of his extremities falling asleep. His fingers flexed with maddening numbness as he once again tried to shift stiffly in his confines, really only succeeding in making everything worse. Huffing out a breath before holding it in sudden fear he strained his ears to listen.

Boots squeaked on what was either hardwood or linoleum outside his door and as the door creaked open he was mildly surprised that if he hadn't been tied down the man who entered wouldn't be intimidating at all. Wispy brown hair hung messily around bright green eyes that held no expression at all. A mask covered his mouth and nose while a plain rumpled tshirt, jeans and work boots dressed the rest of him. The door creaked as he shut it and he swung a small backpack down to the floor almost casually, making no effort to even look at the helpless man in the center of the room. Logan watched with baited breath as the man rummaged around, gathering his courage and opening his mouth.

"Where-"

The other mans reflexes were quick, a small pocket knife clattering to the ground between his feet before his mouth even registered the pain. It had thankfully been closed when it was thrown, leaving what he assessed to be little more than a swollen lip but his anxiety only climbed to new heights with the split second interaction.

The man continued to rummage in his pack, seemingly pushing around fabric and tools Logan couldn't see until he pulled out a water bottle. He tensed as the man stood and walked up to him, holding the open bottle to his lips patiently. Carefully Logan took a few sips before it was taken away. A folding chair was brought over from against a wall Logan couldn't see and the man sat down heavily on it, drinking from the same bottle lazily as he settled. Logan let out a tiny sigh of relief. At least the water hadn't been poisoned...unless poison could sit on top and he got the most potent dose and the man was leading him into a false sense of security and was just waiting-

Inwardly he shook himself from his thoughts. He couldn't afford to panic, that would be his husband's job, which he winced to think about. He was probably frantic, already suffering from anxiety and now Logan missing...did the man take him too? Is that who the other screams belonged to? His chest constricted as he looked back up.

"Where is-" Again he was cut off with the blunt end to the knife in his face, picked up when he wasn't paying attention and cracking his lower lip this time, falling in the same place between his feet. Leaning forward the other man grabbed the knife back, dragging it slowly against the carpet as he sat up.

"Speak when spoken to." He said simply.

Under any other circumstances Logan would say fuck it and yell and scream until he had no voice, but he needed more information and couldn't risk getting him upset. If he was able to escape he needed to be in the best shape possible and taking the chance the man was throwing randomly and risking getting an eye poked out certainly wasn't in his best interest. So he tried his best to relax, swiping his tongue over the well of blood on his lip and staring ahead expectantly.

The man settled back and regarded him with interest, the only clue into any emotion a slightly quirked eyebrow. He capped the water bottle and set it between his legs on the chair, bringing his hands up to rest on top of his head while twirling the knife expertly between his fingers.

"Logan Brian Croft. Interesting name."

Confused, Logan only nodded, swallowing hard as he tried to dismiss the fact that this man knew his full name.

"And your son, Roman, he's what...four? Five?"

"If you have done anything to my son, rest assured I'll-" He cried out as his lip split further, the knife once again between his feet.

"Speak when spoken to. Answer the questions given. You're smart this shouldn't be too hard." The wiry man picked up the knife again and twirled it aimlessly as he watched Logan squirm under his gaze, a glare fixed upon his swelling face. "So, four? Five?"

"He's seven." Logan spat, blood spattering on his knee.

The man smirked as he settled in more. "Seven then. Young enough to get fairy tales read to him still?"

What in the world was this person getting at? "Of course."

"What's his favorite?"

"...I- he likes so many. I suppose he's been partial to The Twelve Dancing Princesses lately."

"Mm. Bit of a less popular one." The knife was set down to Logan's immediate relief, the man's arms crossing over his chest. "Tell me about it. What's the plot?"

"What?" Thoroughly confused but quick to realize his mistake he hastily amended. "Yes right! It tells the story of twelve princesses being locked in their room each night but in the morning their shoes being worn down as though they were out all night. The king, not receiving any explanation from them, implores any man to discover their secret within three days or be sentenced to death." Here he paused and looked at the other for confirmation to continue, to which he nodded. Perplexed Logan pressed on.

'Just play the game right.' He thought. 'Just survive.'

"Many men try and fail to stay awake to discover their secret as the princesses give them sleeping potions each night. An old soldier on his way to the castle receives a magic cloak and a warning against the wine from an old woman. As might falls he pretends to sleep then dons the cloak to spy, following them through a trap door leading to a grove then a lake then a castle where they all dance the night away. Taking branches and a goblet as evidence to the king, the princess's finally confess. The king makes the soldier his heir and gives him the eldest daughters hand in marriage as a reward."

The man nods thoughtfully. "Odd he likes it so much but I guess that's kids for you. But wasn't it an old man who gave the soldier the warning?"

Logan furrowed his brow as he thought. He was certain it had been a woman but it was such a small detail, and with no means to look it up...he eyes the knife fearfully, his lip still throbbing. "Yes I- suppose it might have been."

Smirking, the man stands not before pocketing the knife and holds up the water bottle again. Getting a few sips before it was taken away the man refolded the chair, grabbed his bag, and left.

Logan blinked. That...couldn't be it. He was expecting an interrogation, more violence, personal questions; though he was thankful it hadn't gone that way it left him no less cofused. He tugged a bit more at his bonds and his heart leapt in his chest at the realization that maybe they felt just the slightest bit looser. Straining his ears for any signs the man would return soon and hearing none he settled back as much as he could and grit his teeth. Flexing his muscles he stretched the belt section as much as he could by pulling his wrists apart, the edges digging even more painfully at the already tender flesh. He didn't get very far but held it there for as long as he could before laxing and stretching his tingling fingers. Rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling he took a breath and tensed again.

-------

Waking up again had Logan flinching back from green eyes violently seeing his captor sat not one foot away from him. The door was slightly open behind him and he could just make out the sound of muffled crying coming from somewhere nearby.

"Who is-" A crack sounded shortly in the altered room, Logan's cheek throbbing and neck bending sideways with the force of the blow. Tears threatened to spill as he glared stubbornly back at the man, who looked on as impassively as ever.

"Forgotten the rules already? Figured you'd be smarter than that."

He shifted to sit straighter as the other leaned back, wrists aching from the strain he had put on them the day prior. He could feel the dull throb of his heartbeat in his fingertips and he tried in vain to flex his fingers, only earning painful spasms in return. A water bottle was again shoved in his face and with it came the realization that he needed a bathroom. Thankfully it wasn't yet uncomfortable but it was enough to make him hesitate taking the offer. Deciding staying hydrated was ultimately more important he earned a few sips against his cracked lip before it was taken away entirely too soon, making him want to whine at the loss but not wanting to give anything away.

Logan noticed the knife in the man's front pocket and cringed involuntarily while his abuser downed half the bottle himself, smacking his lips and laying a hand on the handle as a warning. Through nerves making his chest tighten once again Logan tried his best to concentrate on what the other might want today.

"Your son, you said he's six right?"

"Seven." Logan answered automatically.

"Hm. So that would mean he's in first grade."

"Yes." Llgan nearly smiled at the thought of how much Roman enjoyed school. He did very well, always getting straight A's and B's and making new friends. He was such an outgoing child, so much unlike his fathers and Logan honestly didn't know where he got it from. He supposed someone had to be the personable one in their small family.

"Does he talk about his friends a lot?" This sent Logan immediately on edge. If this person expected Logan to talk about his sons friends and possibly put them in danger- he would gladly take whatever punishment there was to keep them safe. Seeing the look on his face the other shook his head. "You can abbreviate their names, no harm is coming to them. Just making some friendly conversation. It's not as if I don't already have their information."

"I-"

"There's Patton right? Little curly haired boy, rather skittish. And Janus, odd name but he goes by Dee anyway...he's the one with eczema right?" Alarm bells ringing Logan began shaking his head.

"N-no, you have that wrong. Janus is someone entirely diff-" His desperate attempt to throw him off was met with another back-handed slap to the same cheek, making his vision wink with blackness temporarily.

"Don't lie. I have the information already and all playing hero will get you is more than you could handle."

Thoroughly fed up, Logan sat up and spat blood in the other man's face, earning slight satisfaction in the brief look of shock that crossed over it. Cringing slightly at the look he recieved but staring up with defiance none the less he watched as the man wiped his cheek in mild disgust.

"I wouldn't have done that."

"Fuck you." The words felt strange falling from his mouth, he rarely ever swore especially directed at others, but the fear was rapidly being replaced by adrenaline as his body braced itself for punishment, drowning out any and all rational thought. When the man stood however, he turned and left the room, leaving the door open enough that he could just catch sight of the beige hallways walls beyond.

When the screaming started, the adrenaline high he'd been riding left him so quickly it left him gasping for breath, the previous defiance replaced with a cold pit of dread as the persons pitch went up to a painful octave. Both doors must have been left open for how clearly their voice came through now. Shutting his eyes tightly against it he could only listen as wave after wave of guilt washed over him as whatever was happening seemed to go on endlessly.

The screams turned desperate as the other captive began pleading brokenly. "Please stop, please! I'll do whatever you want! I'll stay quiet, I'll talk, I'll die just PLEASE!"

The last word came out more like a pained shriek that made him flinch back violently in his chair. Something was thrown hard and clattered against something solid making the sound echo briefly over the gasping sobs coming from whoever was in the other room. A door was slammed shut cutting off the sounds before footsteps could be heard coming closer. Logan refused to look up as their torturer entered the room, earning a scoff as he hoisted up his pack to leave.

"I think I've given you enough to think about for today." The door was shut firmly as the rest of the fight drained from Logan and he slumped forward, not noticing the bonds pulling painfully at his joints. Screams echoed in his skull on a constant loop that try as he might would not be expelled from his mind.

Enough to think about indeed.

----------

"Tell me a fact."

Logan lifted his head tiredly from his chest, blinking slowly at the blurring man. It had been five or six days by his estimate, sleeping slumped in his chair for who knows how long, waking up to recieve sips of water and once a sandwitch crammed down his throat, using the alotted down time to stretch at the bonds around his wrists. Always with the out of the blue questions that he would get a detail wrong about. Lack of proper nutrition and hydration was leaving him feel slow and dimwitted.

What was his son's favorite fairy tale again? The Twelve Dancing Princess'....or was it The Frog Prince? He had a frog plush he really liked so maybe...but no, he knew his son. That had to be it, but the plot was fuzzy and out of focus, details from too many stories mushing together. Did his son have two friends he talked about or was it three? There was another boy who bullied him often but kids would be kids and perhaps it was more friendly competition...at least that's what the man had suggested. He couldn't verify the information and was too tired to care anymore. He got hurt when he asked questions so maybe questions weren't necessary. His captor knew a lot about them and seemed to be in much better health than he was at this point so maybe he did know better.

His thoughts were interupted with a harsh pinch to the frail skin of his thigh. Both of his thighs were covered in bruises from the days prior, and his face was a constant throbbing ache that made his head pound and thoughts slur even more. He was tired and cold and hungry. His mouth tasted like sour blood and he never got enough water to rinse it out properly. Above everything else he really had to pee, but he hadn't been taken out of the chair since he arrived. He wanted nothing more than to be at home, in bed with his husband and son under a mound of blankets with Roman's stuffed bunny pressed into his face and his love's arms securely wrapped around his waist. All he had instead were screams and a hard chair.

A punch to his other thigh made him yelp and look up. "Focus. Tell me a fact. Come on you're full of them."

He didn't understand the game they were playing. What was the point of talking if he'd be told he was wrong anyway? His memories were failing and just yesterday he had forgotten blood was red because it had no oxygen. That seemed so absurd to him at the time but he supposed in his deteriorated state mistakes were bound to happen. Even mistakes regarding a job he had held for years. What was it he had wanted? A fact, right.

"According to all known laws of aviation-" he slurred, giggling a bit to himself as his captive sat back with a carefully neutral expression. His heart leapt in his throat as he stood up and left the room, weakly calling out that he could do better. Before the door was shut he caught sight of a phone in the others hands, making his brain have a semi coherent thought if he ever escaped where to get to a phone.

The door failed to shut all the way and Logan strained his ears to be able to hear the muttering the other side, faintly catching a bit before he moved further down the hall.

"He's getting more and more delirious I think I'll be able to get it out of him soon. ......husb............breaking...." Logan's ears perked at the nearly incoherent sentence. Husband? His husband? Was he here? Was he okay? What about Roman??

With the door open he could hear faint moaning from the other room, and with it came a burst of numb resolve. He was weak but so were his bonds as he had steadily been working them loose over the last few days. Testing their strength he pulled as hard as he could, feeling the rough edge slice against his rubbed raw wrist until with a dull snap the leather fell to the floor. Eyes widening in surprise he wasted no time in bending over to unbuckle his legs and ankles , nearly face planting in his haste to stand. Taking a steadying breath he shuffled slowly to the door and squeezed through the crack, seeing his captor with his back towards him. Easy then, get whoever was in the other room, overtake the wiry man and steal his phone, call the police and get rescued.

Nodding through his doubt and fear he made his way slowly to another door, inching it open and slipping inside. Letting out a breath he turned around and froze, recognizing his husband's thin frame under the mess he had become. His purple hair was matted and plastered to his forehead with sweat and blood alike, his nose an indecipherable blood clot splattered against his face. His whole frame shook with pain as Logan took in the numerous open wounds dripping with blood and pus alike, fingers twisted at odd angles and twitching uselessly against the arms of the chair he was tied to. Haunted eyes darted to his fearfully as he drew a ragged breath through his ruined mouth, moaning with an urgency Logan barely understood.

"Virgil?"

"Lo-"

He didn't even hear his full name before the floor creaked behind him, bladder releasing in fear and adrenaline making him stumble with the intensity. He was seized by the throat before he could make a sound, vision swimming as the man's intense gaze filled his vision.

"And just where did you think you were going?"

------------

The thick chains ground into his wrist bones painfully while his head lolled from side to side. Wrong. Everything was wrong. He didn't know anything, he didn't feel anything. Virgil's screams had gone quiet hours ago leaving a dull ache in his tired chest. His feet had lost feeling ages ago as his broken ankles swelled beyond his bonds. At least he didn't have to pee anymore. He didn't feel like he had to do much of anything anymore.

He barely twitched as the door opened. He was so, so tired. He had fallen asleep and woken up so many times since his escape attempt he couldn't guess how long he had been here if his brain wasn't already mush. All the facts he felt so accomplished in knowing and studying were wrong. All wrong. Details mixed up and spit out with enough inaccuracies to make him cry if he wasn't so dehydrated. Memories of Virgil and Roman skewed and rotted with the last of his concious thoughts. His husband's smile had forever been replaced by the bloodied face he had seen desperately trying to warn him of his stupidity, and now he had ruined their one chance at escape.

Moaning softly as his chin was pulled down he locked eyes with his captor, who smirked and nodded, holding out his phone. He noticed the call screen running and figured he must be on speaker. What was he meant to do now? Spout off more things that would be proven false with a backhanded slap or a hard punch to the gut?

"The password to your family safe. What is it?"

Somewhere, deep in Logan's subconscious his alarm bells were ringing. He had been beaten, starved and manipulated for days for just this moment, when all his walls were down and he doubted every word that left his mouth. Something wasn't right, the family safe where all their papers were, all their shared stocks and living wills and something else. Something important that he was sure he was forgetting. The thought was gone as soon as it entered as he groggily slurred out some combination of numbers towards the microphone.

His chin was freed as some form of confirmation was given on the other end. His cheek was patted softly, the gentlest he had been touched in so long it made tears prick his eyes. The man hung up and turned to dig through his bag, pulling out a full syringe and uncapping it as Logan watched in confusion, flicking out the air bubbles and turning back towards him.

"Shame my client didn't just recieve the inheritance in the first place, would've been much less painful for you." It clicked then that that was the important thing. The trust fund and pooled inheritance from Virgil's family they had stored away for Roman's future. The last thing that would be left to him if they didn't make it out alive. And he had just given it over to God only knows who.

"Wha-"

"Lethal injection. A mercy really, I have no more need of you and neither does my client. It'll be quick I promise. Just like ripping off a bandaid."

Logans mind connected the dots slowly as the man came towards him, and adrenaline shot through him one last time as he began to panic. Nonononononono! He had to get out! He had to get Virgil, find Roman; he needed them safe! The syringe came closer and closer as if in slow motion and in one last desperate attempt to survive he bucked up violently with everything he had. His ankles protested heavily making him scream in pain and tip his chair back, knocking the needle away and making him fall heavily to the side. As he blinked back the tears he heard a gasp and looked over at the man's shocked expression, moving his eyes down to his thigh where the syringe was now fully dispensed and sticking out of. Too late his abuser snatched it out, breathing heavily as he turned towards Logan.

"What have you done?" He turned and stumbled slightly, falling to his knees and crawling to the door clawing desperately at the handle as his strength seemed to leave him, breathing growing more and more labored until he slumped over limply, the erratic rise and fall of his chest stilling completely after only a minute.

For a moment Logan allowed himself to feel triumphant. He had survived! He had won and now he could- he jingled the thick chains uselessly around his wrists, ankles screaming in pain and head pounding from his fall. Looking over frantically at the body by the door his mouth opened and shut several times, low croaks the only sound working past dry lips. He couldn't get free and Virgil- he was trapped across the hall dying slowly, alone, all because of him. His captor was dead and Virgil was dying and Logan was dying and all he could do was bang his head against the floor uselessly as sobs wracked his frail body.

"Wake up!" He whispered uselessly. "WAKE UP!"

His dry vocal chords felt as if they were ripping apart as he screamed and cried to no avail in his sound proofed prison. They were all dead. And no one was coming.

As he grew weaker his sobs quieted enough for him to faintly hear the sound of someone crying in the other room. His heart broke as he thought of Virgil alone and terrified and hurting, thoughts mixing up and blurring the body in front of him until it more resembled his husband's. He missed him so much. He missed his home. He missed his son. He wished, above all else he could hear their voices one last time. As his eyes slowly shut the crying grew more familiar, sinking him into a dream of what once was, monsters no more real than the ones children ran from under beds. He smiled faintly as he thought back to the simple time, hearing Roman's shout of fear and knowing he'd be able to fix it with a kiss and a cuddle.

"Daddy!"

#false writes #sanders sides #virgil sanders #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #logan sanders #kid roman #bad things happen bingo #bad things bingo #bthb #tw violence #tw minor character death #tw blood #tw torture #tw broken bones #tw caps lock #tw crying #analogical #virgil x logan

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serenlyss · 4 years

Text

Filial Affection

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Rating: G (death mentions, canonical paternal death) Relationships: felix&rodrigue, faerghus four Summary: Felix has never loved his father. Read on AO3: Filial Affection

A Felix character/relationship study detailing his relationship with Rodrigue and how it changes over the course of both of their lifetimes. In short: it’s complicated.

---

Felix has never loved his father.

When asked, it’s easy for him to come up with a long, detailed list of all of Rodrigue’s flaws. His softness, the way he clings tightly to his memories of the past, his insistence on neglecting the living in favor of glorifying the dead. Glenn’s death lights the fire in them that destroys their relationship with each other, and Rodrigue’s insistence that his son’s decision to die in battle as a knight was the only right choice is the kindling that keeps it burning for more than a decade. Felix and Rodrigue have never been able to see eye to eye, but the longer their unresolved disagreements had stewed, the angrier Felix had become, and the more his bitterness had grown.

How could he say such terrible things, he would agonize to himself, as though he hadn’t just lost his heir, his son? How could he convince himself for so long that he would rather Glenn throw his life away than come back safe, then turn around and praise Dimitri for being strong enough to survive? And how could he possibly scrounge up the nerve to speak on his dead son’s behalf, to say that this outcome is what he’d wanted and that it would be wise to follow in his footsteps? Felix knows better than most that a dead man has no sway on the fates of the living.

On the day Dimitri is declared dead, Felix finally snaps. He says to his father what he has never dared to say before, things that would make Ingrid go red-faced with anger at his disrespect and malice, had she been there to listen in. The hurt in his father’s eyes is to be expected.

The twinge of regret and sadness he feels when Rodrigue wordlessly turns away from him is not.

---

Felix has never loved his father - at least, not for several years.

If he pauses to think, really think, he can remember a time when he'd been undeniably excited to see Rodrigue return home, eager to hear one of many stories of his father’s adventures. He can remember a time when he’d been proud to tell anyone who would listen about how his father and brother were celebrated knights of Faerghus in protection of the royal family. At one point, he’d even wanted to follow in their footsteps. Now, when he remembers his bright-eyed naivety, all he feels is disgust. He’d realized that the knighthood his brother had so revered had also led him to throw away his life in vain. He’d known that Glenn could have done so much more if he’d decided to live rather than die, but at such a young age, he’d been the only one to think so. Ingrid, Dimitri, even his own father, all reiterate again and again that Glenn’s sacrifice had been noble and honorable, even into their adulthood. Felix can only seem to think of it as a waste of potential. It frustrates him to impossible ends that no one can seem to see from his point of view, and in retaliation, he labels them all fools and pushes them out of his life as coldly as he can.

The day that Felix first voices his opinion of Glenn’s sacrifice in front of Rodrigue is the day he realizes that he truly hates his father. It’s the first serious argument they’ve ever had, as well as the first that neither of them are willing to budge on. There is no resolution, just an endless cycle of stewing and seething, attempting to make amends only to loop right back around to ignoring each other, pushing them back to the starting line over and over until eventually Felix gives up trying to fix what’s broken. Rodrigue refuses to cut ties, however, and each flimsy attempt to reconnect with him just leaves Felix more and more agitated. Hating him becomes so easy that he forgets he’d ever had any love for his father in the first place.

Still, the inkling is there, once in a while, when he’s feeling particularly nostalgic for his childhood years. There’s an occasional spark of regret in Felix that tells him that, maybe this time, they can finally come to an agreement, but the spark is almost immediately snuffed. Felix has no interest in family anymore, aside from the political ties that demand he take over his father’s position when the time comes, but the thought feels so far in the future that he doesn’t think too deeply about its implications. He throws himself into his studies, building his strength, refining his craft, and pushes thoughts of his estranged father out of his mind for good.

---

Felix has never loved his father, or so he's always thought.

But watching Rodrigue’s cobbled-together casket being solemnly lowered into a too-shallow grave, Felix finds himself feeling far too emotional for a man who doesn't love his father. He wants to scream, wants to cry, wants to run away and lock himself in his room until this whole nightmare has passed, but he doesn't do anything. He's rooted in place, unmoving, his face smoothed into a carefully-mastered poker face. He grips the hilt of Rodrigue’s sword, recovered from his fallen corpse, and sets the tip of its sheath against the ground so the long blade stands straight and proud, and he does not let a single breath of inner turmoil escape from behind his impenetrable wall. It's agonizing.

Sylvain drapes an arm over Felix’s shoulders, his expression not quite as carefully mastered as Felix’s. He frowns deeply, and his eyes are sad, a rare sight from a man who was usually so sickeningly optimistic and uncouth. If it were any other day, Felix would never have tolerated such an unwanted semblance of comfort, but he allows it, just this once. To humor Sylvain, he tells himself, making excuses to avoid the fact that he deeply appreciates the comfort.

At his other side, Ingrid takes his hand and gives it a small squeeze. The gesture is intimately familiar; it's been ages since she's dared to reach out to him like this, but fifteen or so years ago it was no uncommon sight to see a little blond girl running around, dragging a bright-eyed little boy behind her by the hand. Felix makes no effort to return the gesture, but he also makes no effort to break the contact between them, and Ingrid continues to hold his hand tightly in hers as the rushed ceremony carries on. He wonders if the gesture is meant for him, or to satisfy her own need for company. He decides it’s likely a bit of both.

Dimitri stands on the other side of the grave, right up against its edge. He looks terrible, dark shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep and bloodstained from the battle they still haven't had a chance to rest from. Fleetingly, Felix wonders if he looks just as beastly as the king he'd come to so despise. He wonders if, maybe, there is a beast inside them all, not just the Boar, that bares it's ugly fangs in the face of tragedy. The thought nearly brings a spiteful smile to his face, but he bites it back before it can surface and reveal his true feelings to the world.

Occasionally, Dimitri lifts his head and meets Felix’s gaze from across Rodrigue’s grave. His eyes are clearer than Felix has seen them since before the war began. The thought makes him inexplicably angry. Why should his father’s life be exchanged to bring Dimitri back from the brink? Bitterly, he wonders if he would feel this way if it has been Dimitri stuffed into the casket instead. The thought makes him feel so sick that he hastily banishes it from his mind.

“Hey.” Sylvain’s quiet, gentle voice pulls him out of his thoughts before he can spiral down more stomach-turning trains of thought. “You feeling okay?”

Felix can't bring himself to get angry at Sylvain’s pitying remarks, but he does have the energy to at least be annoyed, flashing his childhood friend a tired glare. “I'm fine,” he insists, abruptly shrugging Sylvain’s arm off of his shoulders and straightening his posture. He pulls his hand from Ingrid’s grip, and she lets him go, watching his gloved hand return to the hilt of his father’s sword. “I'm just tired, and I'm sick of this fanfare.”

Sylvain doesn’t press him further. As soon as the whole ordeal is done, Felix goes back to his room and locks his door.

---

Felix has always loved his father.

He realizes it now, days after his body is buried and the army has to march on and leave him behind. The years he'd spent hiding, dreading the times he and Rodrigue would meet, arguing with him, insulting him, were born of his frustrations. Anger at his circumstances, at Glenn’s death, at the concept of knighthood his father and brother strove for, at himself for being unable to mend his relationships after he'd played a role in destroying them. He realizes how incredibly fortunate he is that his friends have chosen not to abandon him despite how terribly he's treated them for years. By all accounts, his behavior should have driven them away years ago. He promises himself that he’ll be more thankful to them from now on, if nothing else.

Felix’s relationship with his father has never been the smooth, loving relationship he sees in other families, but despite all of the tension and turmoil between them, Rodrigue is still and always will be his father.

It’s a little late, but Felix thinks he might finally start to follow some of his advice.

#fire emblem three houses #fe3h #felix fraldarius #rodrigue fraldarius #dimitri blaiddyd #ingrid galatea #sylvain gautier #faerghus four #serendipitousfics #fe3h fanfic #death #parental death #angst #character study #relationship study

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the-shield-of-infinity-writing · 7 years

Text

Defending in the ways of love (Thor x Reader) Request

Note: Violence, fluff, Thor being sassy(Sometimes)

Words: 1485

Requested by: @the-mormon-girl-in-the-books

Thor can remind so clearly the day that he had the pleasure of meeting Lady (Y/N) of Asgard when he was young. They were both learning to use their powers whenever Thor accidentally struck her with a bolt of lightning. She wasn’t too happy with him, yet over the years they had grown a bond together that surpassed the simplest of friends. If Thor would go to battle (Y/N) would follow, not that Thor minded, but he did want to keep her safe. He didn’t understand his obsession with making sure that she was not harmed in any way possible.

Here they are now more than fourteen years later as Thor pursued her down the hallway of the palace. “Lady (Y/N), please I beg of thee to reconsider.” He said trying to reach for her hand, but forced himself to stop. They weren’t thirteen anymore, he couldn’t just take her hand whenever he wanted to at least not anymore. “Thor, I can take care of myself.” She said turning back to him with a sharp glare that made him almost let her go, almost. “I did not say that you couldn’t, but this is a dangerous path. Allow me to partake this journey with you.” He said.

She let out a huff glaring. “Really Thor, I am not seven. I am a woman. I do not need your help.” She said as the words pierced through his armor straight to his heart. “Why? You think because you are strong you won’t need my help? By the gods Lady (Y/N). I am the God of Thunder, but I accept help when it is due.” He hissed harsher than he had intended as she looked up to him in shock at his sudden claim. “Look, I did not mean it that way and I apologize for my outburst, but please allow me to travel with you.” He said.

(Y/N) nods. “Fine, just do not get in my way.” She said when Thor smirked softly. “I do not have a death wish.” He mumbles making her crack a smile. “Smart, you shall remain alive longer.” She counters as he chuckles. “I do believe I could defend my own if I pleased. I could even have you on the ground.” He said when she smacked his arm making his laugh. “What? I said if I pleased!” He cried following after her when she starts walking towards the stables to acquire herself a horse. “Why do you persist on going alone?” He asked looking to her.

“Because, this is my task to face.” She said mounting onto the stallion. “Just because it is your task, does not mean you have to travel this path on your own. I am here to help. You could be harmed if you go alone.” He said mounting his own horse as she looks to him. “But you are the prince of Asgard. People will notice if you’re gone.” She said as his eyes widened softly before he grew silent. “We should travel to this place before dawn sets. It might rain in the night.” Thor said changing the subject as she nods softly looking up to the afternoon sky.

“You’re right.” She said before they started off when Thor glanced to her every now again. “Who are you to meet if I may ask?” He questioned when she looked over to him. “I am meeting an old friend. I have come to make amends with her. “What have you done to wrong her?” He asked softly. “I abandoned her.” She whispered. “When I went off to war at your side.” She said as Thor frowned softly. “Who is this person?” He asked. “My mother.” She said as Thor’s eyes widened. “Oh.. I apologize.” He said softly when she shrugs smiling softly.

“Don’t.” She said looking back as he frowns softly. “But it was my fault.” He said. “It wasn’t. I wanted to be at your side, and she did not want me to be. I made a choice, and I do not regret it. For even a moment.” She said in confidence as Thor smiles. “Aye my Lady, I am glad for your presence in battle as well.” He said when suddenly a creature crawled out of the woods. “Look out Lady (Y/N)!” He exclaims as she gasped falling off her horse. The creature screeched as her horse took off running from the scene before Thor jumped from his horse going towards (Y/N).

She grunted softly as the creatures strikes when Thor summons Mjolnir before swinging upwards. The beast cries out as its body throws back against some trees when he helped her onto her feet. “Are you alright?” He asked brushing her off. “I’m okay.” She said before crying out his name just as the demonic looking thing slapped Thor away like he was a stick. She looked up to the red eyed monster before she summons her fire as it burns some of the fur off its cheek causing it to stumble back giving her time to help her fallen companion.

It roared loudly before it charged towards them. “Lady (Y/N).” He grunted standing up before he pulled her behind him as its claws clashed with Thor’s hammer. The God’s power was a little more advanced for the dull creature when he sighed watching as it drops to the ground. “What is that thing?” She asked before watching closer to it with Thor. “I am not sure, but it is very grostic.” He comments looking over the fangs of the creature. It twitched when (Y/N) gasps tackling Thor to the ground when it swung its claws down piercing through her skin.

She cried out when Thor summoned his powers shocking the creature to a crisp before gasping at the claw marks that streaked down her back. He immediately wrapped his cape around her body as he stood up with her in his arms before he ran over to his horse. “Back to the palace.” He said noticing she already had a slight feverish look to her complexion. “Stay with me.” He whispered softly. “Please my Lady… I love you.” He said without thinking as he made it to the palace just as she fell unconscious. “Healer! Please!” He exclaimed when a young healer came.

(Y/N)’s eyes fluttered open a few hours later when she noticed Thor was sleeping at her side as a smile caressed her features. She had heard his words making her face lit up when she noticed his hand held onto hers as she slowly pulled it away his fingers tightened. His eyes snapped open almost immediately looking over at her as she laid onto her side. “Well Hello Prince.” She said as he smiles tiredly. “I am glad you have awakened.” He said. “Yes, thank you for getting me almost killed.” She said playfully as he quirked an eyebrow. “Me?” He asked in fake offense.

“Yes you.” She said as he rolled his eyes. “If my memory serves me correctly it was I who saved you.” He said crossing his arms. “And if you would have traveled on your own you’d be dead.” He said smirking when she rolled her eyes. “You know.. I heard something interesting.” She said deciding to change the subject as he quirks an eyebrow. “And what was that?” He asked sitting up in his chair. “That you told me you loved me.” She said laying her head onto her arm looking at him sideways as he swallowed thickly. “Oh?” He asked softly looking at her.

“Would you like to hear my response?” She asked looking at him as he bit his lip softly. “Of course.” He said hearing his heart pound loudly against his armor. “Come closer.” She beckoned with her finger when he leans towards her when she pulled him into a kiss as his eyes widened. He braced himself onto the bed as he kissed her back feverishly when they broke away for air. “I’m taking that as a yes?” He asked as she laughs softly hitting his chest. “Yes, I love you Thor.” She said. “Rest, for now. I have brought your mother to the palace for you to see her.” He said.

“Thank you.” She said softly looking at him as he smiles softly running his fingers through her hair. “Just so you know, you may have fire wielding strength, but you can’t aim.” He remarks earning him a hit to the thigh as he barks out a laugh. “Hush Thor, fire can burn you.” She counters as he nods. “Yes, I think I already am.” He said kissing her forehead gently. “So does this make us something more?” She asked. “I would hope so.” He said when her eyes grew heavy. “Sleep, we will discuss more later.” He said as she nods before dozing off once more...

Permanent Tag List: @tillielynn16 @ididntasktogetmadedidi

Author’s Note: I do hope you like it! Sorry if it isn’t what you wanted love! ^^ Also I’m so sorry it took so long!

#thor #thor x reader #thor odinson #thor odison imagine #fluff #he loves you #turned to lovers #request

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dreamscript · 7 years

Text

Spiders

There’s a spider in the room.

You’re scared, Minhyuk’s terrified, and Hyunwoo’s tired.

“You know, I’m starting to think that the only reason you guys are friends with me is so that I can kill the spiders.”

fill for this request

3.2k words, comedy, minhyuk + reader + hyunwoo, college au

Hyunwoo is dreaming.

He prances about in a sparkling, sunshine-filled world, with all-you-can-eat buffets prepared by top-notch chefs, expansive gyms, nicely toned arms, screaming marmot noises, comf--

Wait.

He pauses in his enjoyment of the dreamworld and listens intently to the harsh, guttural, grating sounds. Screaming marmot noises.

No, no. The noises--oh. That’s his phone.

Letting out a groan, he reaches over for the obnoxiously screaming device. He curses himself for forgetting to turn his ringer off, and then curses Minhyuk for setting his default ringtone to screaming marmots. He’d forgotten to never trust the kid with his phone.

Hyunwoo doesn’t even bother looking at the caller ID--whoever it is, whatever the hell they want, none of it matters. The only thing that really counts, he has decided, is his much-needed sleep. He’s got an 8 AM class tomorrow that he’s been dreading, but he’s gotta go because he’s already behind as is. And everyone knows that if you’re behind, you are behind. He’s still trying, though. Especially since he’s already paying thousands to attend the university, and he’d be damned if he failed one of his core classes.

“What.” His voice comes out as a deep, menacing rumble. The person’s got precisely 0.3 seconds to answer before he--

“HYUNWOO!”

He instinctively flinches. Faintly, he feels--hears?--his ears ringing. Hyunwoo doesn’t even need to think to know the person is Minhyuk, who seems more than ready to die a painful, torturous death. Tomorrow. After he goes back to sleep. And goes to class.

“The fuck you want?” he hisses into the receiver. Out of the corner of his eye, he notes that it is currently 3:17 A.M. Fucking fantastic.

“YOU HAVE TO CO--AH!” There’s static as Minhyuk yelps and loses hold of the phone, letting it slip from his grasp and fall--somewhere. Hyunwoo grunts and feels his eyelids fluttering shut, finger moving to jab satisfactorily at the red “end call” button--

“SHIT--H-Hyunwoo!” His eyes immediately widen upon hearing your voice. “Y-You gotta get here right now!” In the background, he can hear another strangled cry from Minhyuk. You curse under your breath. More static.

“What’s wrong? Where are you?” Hyunwoo immediately sits up in his bed, eyes frantically darting around the darkened room, attempting to locate his clothes, his shoes, maybe a can of pepper spray...

“Wow, okay, I see how it is!” Minhyuk’s whining, slightly panicked voice comes back. “You curse me out when I call you, but as soon as ________ takes over the phone, you immediately start paying attention!”

Okay, so Minhyuk’s got a point there. But that’s only because Hyunwoo’s so used to his panicked voice that he’s become completely desensitized, whereas with you...he doesn’t really hear you in such a state of panic very often. Only on certain occasions…Wait.

“What’s. The. Problem.” Hyunwoo grits his teeth. He swears to god that if this is yet another substance-induced incident, or a horrendous prank of sorts, he is going to fucking kill--

“We’re in Minhyuk’s room right now! And, uh,” you let out a loud squeal. “There’s--” Hyunwoo snarls in annoyance, irritated when the answer he’s been waiting so impatiently for is obfuscated by loud static.

“There’s a fucking what?”

“There’s a spider!”

Hyunwoo sighs and flops back down on his bed. Ah yes, of course. He should know this by now: of the few times he’s heard you so panicked, once (and the most recent) was a prank. All the other four times were about spiders and other related miniature-sized threats (whereas for Minhyuk, his calls tend to be a hysterical mixture of both, with great frequency).

Sometimes, he wonders why he even bothers. Seriously, it’s two against one. Against a small, measly spider. You’ve all been through so many more life threatening situations, and yet, it’s always the damned arachnid that--

“Hyunwoo? Hello?” Your voice breaks through his thoughts, now with an edge of hysteria.

--sends you two into a practical fit of hysteria. He hears you call for him again, and in the background comes Minhyuk’s famed shriek of terror. And then your loud cursing and screaming. He can already imagine the scene in his head, in which--

“HYUNWOO! HELLO? ARE YOU--SHIT GODFUCK MINHYUK IT’S COMING--”

--Minhyuk is clutching his pillow with sheer desperation, almost as if begging the cushion to vanquish the eight-legged threat in his room, while you curse and screech in fear, movements frantic and jerky as you attempt to meld into the wall, or some other surface.

Ah yes. He grins, almost sadistically. He sees it perfectly now, an entertaining display of sheer terror over a spider. A common, probably non-venomous creature, just trying to live its simple life... He’s pretty sure you two will be fine. In fact, maybe just this once he won’t cater to your needs; the both of you have to learn to survive without him, after all.

He closes his eyes and wishes for the sweet embrace of slumber...

“HYUNWOO!”

...or maybe not. Your desperate yell jerks him back, and he feels that annoying voice tugging at the back of his mind, that thing he so-calls his moral conscience.

Would he be okay leaving his friends alone in a room with their greatest fear?

Probably.

He hears more cursing and then some straight up begging. He’s pretty sure that in a few more seconds, tears would be involved as well.

Okay, so maybe not so much. Damn himself and his morals. He grunts and sits back up on his bed, now sufficiently woken up.

“HYUN--”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there ASAP. Hang tight, don’t die, and if it comes down to it, sacrifice Minhyuk and make a mad dash for it when the enemy is distrac--”

“Hey! I heard that--”

Hyunwoo chuckles as he slips on his shoes, pausing for a moment to get Minhyuk’s room key from its spot next to yours. The keys had been given to him after one too many incidents--or “near death experiences,” as Minhyuk calls them--in which he’d arrived to exterminate a spider (or some other unfortunate pest), only to find the door locked and the petrified victim cowering in some far end of the room, unable to move to open the door.

“--fight me you hunky ass muscle brain--”

Hyunwoo smoothly ends the call and steps out of his room, breaking into a jog.

“Okay, Minhyuk, he’s coming, so until he arrives, we’ll just have to barricade ourselves and keep an eye on the threat. Minhyuk?” You look over at the slightly-dazed, still-fuming boy next to you. You elbow him and he yelps.

“Yeah?”

“Eyes on the target.”

“Right--shit, yeah.”

You turn back to fix your gaze back on the current issue at hand: the brown, miniscule, skittering dot that threatens your very existence. Minhyuk tenses beside you as it wanders aimlessly in his room, nearing the bed. The silent standoff between the both of you and the spider continues until the arachnid suddenly seems to find a direction and purpose.

It turns towards the bed.

And it leaps in that very direction with an alarmingly fast pace.

You let out a shriek--or is it Minhyuk?--as you watch it come closer and closer, almost seeing it hiss between its tiny little fangs--

Bam.

Like a super hero from a kid’s comic, Hyunwoo bursts into the room just as the spider closes the distance and very nearly gets a double kill.

With one fell swoop, he kills the spider, reaching over to pinch its body into a tissue. You exhale, letting go of the breath you’d been holding, as Hyunwoo disappears into the bathroom to flush the body down the toilet.

“Th-Thanks,” you call after him. Minhyuk makes a noise in agreement. You hear the toilet flush, the sink go off. Then silence. Hyunwoo pads out.

“You know,” he says, “I’m starting to think that the only reason you guys are friends with me is so that I can kill the spiders.”

“Oh come on,” Minhyuk protests. “We invite you to hangouts and places that are spider-free too!”

You slap his shoulder and Hyunwoo laughs.

“Anyways, before I go, what are you guys doing up this late? On a weekday?”

“Studying,” you reply. Minhyuk grumbles.

“Last-minute cramming,” you amend. Hyunwoo looks skeptical. Minhyuk looks guilty.

“Okay, fine, watching Stranger Things. Happy?”

“Quite, actually. It’s a good show,” Hyunwoo says. And then he leaves, though not without running into the door. Twice. You wince and feel vaguely bad for forcing him out here. It’s still 3 AM, after all.

“Happy now?” you ask over your styrofoam cup.

“Hardly,” Hyunwoo replies smoothly. “But I really wasn’t expecting much. Free coffee is still free coffee. And I’m too tired and depressed to care as much about quality.”

“So I take it you’re failing that class pretty badly?” Minhyuk asks casually. Hyunwoo makes a grim expression and nods. He then looks down at the black liquid in his own styrofoam cup. All he sees is his own tired, deadbeat reflection, though slightly distorted and at a terrible angle. He grimaces and picks it up, throwing it down his throat all the same. Maybe the caffeine will give him a heart-attack, or something, and he’ll finally feel the sweet release of death.

Ahem.

Anyways.

Joking suicidal thoughts aside, there is currently yet another cup of relatively disgusting, hot coffee being waved directly in front of his face in a dangerously haphazard manner. As much as he contemplates the void, he’d really rather not have it end now, and especially not with a cup of cheap cafeteria coffee to the face.

(On second thought, that probably wouldn’t be enough to kill him. Maybe blind him, permanently disfigure him. The point still stands, though. He refuses to lose to coffee.)

“Hyunwoo? Hello?” You continue to wave your coffee in front of his face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.” Before you can accidentally spill the thing into his eyes, he gently pushes your hand away. You set the cup down on the table.

“Sorry. But yeah, thanks for helping us out a few days ago. At 3 AM. And sorry for interrupting your much-needed sleep. You’ll pull through in your class. I think.” You give him a reassuring smile that really isn’t that reassuring. He smiles back because he’s going to fail and knows that everyone knows he will.

He clears his throat, setting the now-empty cup back onto the table. “Anyways, in regards to that spider incident, I have something to tell you guys.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to be out for the weekend, so if you guys have any incidents…”

“Oh.” You turn to look at Minhyuk. He stares back at you. Hyunwoo wonders if you guys somehow have telepathic abilities. He actually wouldn’t be very surprised at all, really. In fact, he’s actually kind of jealous. They’d be nice, especially if he’s in a pinch and needs help from a friend on a test for a certain class…

“So, uh, where are you going to be?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, funeral,” Hyunwoo replies. “But I was going to say, if you guys are worried about more spiders appearing--especially with the weather getting warmer and all--I could actually stay back.”

“Why?” Minhyuk looks both alarmed and relieved. “Wait, what? I mean, I know that we’re best friends and everything but this is a funeral--”

“For my uncle,” Hyunwoo interrupts. “Racist misogynist extraordinaire. Or so I’ve heard. Never really met him, though if what my mother tells me about him is true, I can understand why. He also had some sort of cerebral injury later in his life and let’s just say...his already pretty loose filter became very much nonexistent.”

“Ah,” you say, relaxing back into your seat. “Well in that case I don’t feel all that bad about asking you to stay.”

“Neither do I,” Hyunwoo replies. “Honestly, my family is only going to collect some old items of ours that somehow wound up in his possession.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, I think you should still go.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” Minhyuk says. “Go and get your stuff, man. What if someone steals what’s rightfully yours because you aren’t there?”

“I mean…”

“If you really want to stay, then stay. I mean, I still feel kind of bad for asking you to stay. Plus, I don’t think there will be that many spiders...hopefully,” you add on.

Hyunwoo studies the two of you carefully. Maybe he should go. He’d heard that there was apparently some painting there that belonged to his father, and he’d been meaning to see it.

“Um, okay then.”

The first day without Hyunwoo...is just like any other day, except without the reassurance, at the back of your mind, that if any sort of eight-legged threat were to appear, he would also appear to save you.

But it’s okay, because on most days you don’t need to rely on him for such things. You and Minhyuk pass it by as normal, binge-watching more shows and getting started on Black Mirror. The episode ends, fading into the usual “next episode” screen on Netflix.

You stretch, letting out a satisfied groan escape your mouth. “‘Mkinda thirsty,” you mumble. Minhyuk grunts. Turning your head about, you look around for your mug; you’re pretty sure you left it somewhere nearby…

There it is. You spot it sitting on your desk, a few feet away from where you and Minhyuk are currently squished on the bed (seriously--you should get a couch). Except...you’re quick to spot something else next to it, too.

Something small.

And tiny.

With many appendages.

“M-M-Minhyuk,” you start, slapping him on the shoulder multiple times.

“Hm?” He sounds half-asleep.

The thing twitches. And moves. Shit. “Th-There’s a s-spider.”

Almost immediately, Minhyuk tenses. He shifts on the bed. “W-Where?”

With a shaking finger, you point at the dot of brown on the other side of the room, skittering about without a clear sense of aim or direction on the desk.

He makes a terrified squeaking noise, hands desperately grabbing at you before he manages to lock you in a death embrace. You hug him back just as desperately, fearing for you damned life.

As it inches towards your direction and nears the bed closer and closer, you can’t help but think one thing:

“Maybe,” you whisper, terrified, “we should’ve told Hyunwoo to stay...”

“I-I think that’d be nice and all but...we’ll hopefully be fine without him...” Slowly, he unravels his arms.

“But he’s literally the only one who can face those--those things!”

“No. No, he’s not.”

“Wh--” It’s then that you notice that Minhyuk’s rolled up an old magazine of yours, clutching it tightly in his sweaty hand. “Wait, are you really…?”

He nods. You’re unsure about what to feel: on one hand, you’re filled with desperate hope, praying to the deities that Minhyuk will be successful in his dangerous mission and exterminates the threat--but on the other hand, the very threat is the bane of both of your existences.

With what seems to be incredible courage, Minhyuk unfolds his trembling legs, letting his feet make cold contact with the ground. You inhale sharply as he cautiously inches towards the spider, which skitters precariously towards the edge of the desk.

One step.

Minhyuk seems too big for the room, all of a sudden. With just one, fear-filled step, he’s already covered a third of the distance between him and the desk. That has the spider.

Two steps.

He’s taken two steps from the bed, the sanctuary, the haven of safety, venturing deeper into enemy territory. Bravely, he raises his glossy paper weapon.

“Minhyuk…”

Three steps.

His strides may have gotten smaller, but he’s still close, much too close. If the spider could jump--can they jump?--it would easily land on his forearm, and from there sink its tiny little (most likely) venomous fangs into the flesh, pierce his fair, perfect, flawless and pure skin, and stare up at his crumbling, dying form with all eight of its beady little eyes--

There’s a loud thwack and you suddenly jolt, eyes widening with fear as you expect to see his dead body on the ground--

“Y-You’re alive.”

Minhyuk stands panting before your desk, hand firmly pressing the magazine to the desk.

“Y-Yeah.” He says it as if he’s surprised he’s alive too.

Carefully, Minhyuk lifts up the magazine, inspecting it carefully. You can’t see the look on his face, but he makes a satisfied noise.

“I--I killed it.” He turns to look at you now, and his face is the epitome of elation. “I-I did it. I killed the spider--” Minhyuk continues to babble happily as you straighten up on the bed and beam widely at him.

“Really? Are you sure it’s dead? Rip off the page of the mag that it’s smashed on--yeah. Careful--yeah, okay, go and flush that down the toilet. I don’t care if it clogs, because I am not taking any risks--”

He jibbers excitedly as he prances out of the room.

“Man, so is this how Hyunwoo feels whenever he kills a spider?” Minhyuk asks dreamily. “It feels so great. No wonder he does it for us so often.”

You nod in agreement. “That explains why he was so reluctant to leave us alone.” You look at him, leaning against your now spider-free desk. “Where’d you get all that courage from, anyway?”

He shrugs and attempts to act casual and “oh-so-manly” about it. “Geh, who knows. Probably was just some fight-or-flight instinct, but I chose fight.”

“Right, okay,” you giggle. He grins at you, still perched on the bed, half-covered in sheets. He’s feeling a bit too awkward to admit it just yet, but it was also in part because there was this sudden, surging notion to protect you. And himself. And the rest of humanity, probably, from the accursed spider.

“Wow, I feel so great, like I could lift entire buildings and--”

“Minhyuk?” He starts at the slightly panicked look on your face.

“Yeah?”

“There’s another one.” With a slightly trembling hand, you point at the ground to the left of him… And holyshityou’rerightshitshitshit--

There’s a loud squeak of protest as both you and Minhyuk immediately dive for the bed. He ends up crushing half of your body with his weight and you’re left wheezing and gasping for multiple reasons.

“H-HYUNWOO!”

In a large, relatively crowded room filled with people swathed in black, Hyunwoo sneezes.

Reaching for his handkerchief, he wipes his nose and glances around at those around him, people who seem oblivious to his sneeze. They continue to stare at the casket with mixed expressions of sadness, sorrow, joy, and satisfaction.

Everything about the funeral is plain, utterly plain. Not a single flower is in sight. Or pepper shaker. Or cat, or dog, or any kind of fur-shedding animal, for that matter.

He shrugs and does away with the handkerchief. Maybe someone was thinking of him.

a/n: i know, i know. i pick on poor minhyuk way too much. first its the werepotato incident, and now im making him suffer with spiders.

lol this fic is so random and strangely incomplete

inspired by a whole plethora of naruto fanfiction ive been reading tbh

additionally here is a yt link to screaming marmots.

#monsta x scenarios #monsta x fanfiction #monsta x #minhyuk scenarios #minhyuk #hyunwoo #hyunwoo scenarios #monsta x scenario #writing #comedy #spiders #bah to hell with the tags #x: trying not to fail life

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