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strawberrysoup · 4 years

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Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 2

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader word length: 5k chapters: 2/? warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. Open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.

hey read this: im desperately hoping this lives up to the standards the first chapter apparently set my dudes, fingers crossed i don’t lose any of you with this one 🤞🤞 also before we get started i just wanna let yall know i am very firmly set in my decisions for the designations and i do not apologize lmao 🤙

You had been manhandled often enough in your life but fuck this time in particular. Even if you’d managed to pass as a beta for more than a decade, you weren’t strong and couldn’t stand your ground in the face of an alpha three times your size. Steve had sucked his fingers clean and easily hefted you up into his arms, following Bruce back into the cabin and down into the basement—you hadn’t been allowed to clean the basement, it was one of the off-limits areas that were noted in your many instructions. If a door is locked, leave it alone. No cleaning is necessary in the basement, garage, or third floor. Wash the linens with a scent free detergent. Make sure the refrigerator is properly scrubbed out.

He’d left you on a metal countertop with instructions to be good for Bruce. You weren’t sure what that entailed but as soon as the blond left the room, your mind started to race. There was no way you could get away from Steve, Sam you could potentially outrun, but Bruce? Being left alone with the beta was the best thing they could’ve done for you. You could get away from Bruce.

“Have you been to see a doctor recently?” His voice was gentle, intended to be soothing as he came to stand in front of you. "Any check-ups, clinic visits?”

You knew there was blood drying on your cracked lips, cutting a jarring path down your throat. The taste was still in your mouth, you’d gouged your tongue and it was still actively bleeding. With that in mind you made direct eye contact with the beta before letting the mouthful spill over your bottom lip and drip down your front, hoping the gore would help emphasize your opinions on the situation.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re upset—”

“Bruce, why is she bleeding?” It was like getting punched in the face by alpha pheromones the moment the door to the room opened again and a much younger alpha stepped through with a practically panicked expression.

Before you or Bruce could respond you’d been swept up in the alpha’s arms. He was a few years younger than you, early twenties probably and being manhandled by a fetus was particularly bothersome. His scent kept you still for a few seconds before you started squirming, making a beta-like snarl while he corralled your limbs.

“Here Pete, can you sit with her over here? We need a blood draw and full work up, her natural hormones have probably been devastated by the chemicals in the suppressants she was taking,” Bruce gestured for the alpha to carry you to a metal table, likely meant to be used for some sort of experiments if the rest of the room was anything to judge by. "All of her reproductive organs could’ve been affected, I’ll need to do a pelvic exam. We’ll run an STD panel and—”

“No! I don’t consent!” Your voice came out as a growl, the best one you could manage. "This is false imprisonment! Let go of me you fucking knothead! This is illegal!”

The alpha started to purr immediately and you found yourself rendered boneless under the onslaught. It was startling—you’d forgotten how it felt, how calm and safe it made you feel. Alpha purrs were meant to soothe and comfort, the tones perfectly adjusted to the omega ear. They also caused a completely involuntary reaction in omegas, the same as all other alpha sounds. You had no choice but to feel relaxed, the white noise of a purr jumbling your thoughts.

Bruce smiled down at you, hand running over the top of your head where it rested against the alpha’s chest. "It’s okay, you don’t have to be afraid. I won’t let anything happen to you, I just want to make sure you’re healthy.”

“Isn’t that better baby?” The alpha sat back on the table and pulled you to sit between his legs, tucked close to his chest. “And unless you have a guardian alpha, it’s not illegal. We’re doing our civic duty, taking care of an omega in unsafe conditions.”

The worst part was that you couldn’t fight it; you couldn’t find your way out of the calm static the purr filled your brain with. Even when Bruce started taking multiple vials of blood from your left arm, when he opened your mouth to check the damage to your tongue, when they started undressing you, you couldn’t fight. It was a hazy sort of half thought, that you wanted them to stop. It must’ve been apparent in your eyes, that you were trying to work your way out of the purr’s effects.

“Shhhh, sweetheart, you’re alright,” Bruce murmured quietly as his hands pressed the glands in your neck, fingers brushing gently against the scent gland in particular. "No swelling in your thyroid or mating nodes, that’s good. Suppressants can really cause problems in your hormone glands; the blood tests will tell us for sure but it looks like you might’ve dodged the worst of it if nothing’s enflamed. How long have you been on suppressants?”

Answering was the last thing on your mind, your eyes slowly roving over the room instead. It was some sort of lab set up, tons of machines and parts of machines, technology you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Bruce had been taking things from one particular cabinet that seemed to hold medical supplies, the rest of the place resembling a robotics factory or some kind of high-tech research and development lab. The doors had swished open automatically when Steve brought you in and when the new alpha came through. Who had automatic doors in a vacation home?

“Should I stop?” The alpha questioned the doctor, chest continuing to rumble. “I might be making her too calm I guess.”

“No, just keep doing what you’re doing Peter,” Bruce sighed slightly. "There’s too much coherence in her eyes as it is, I don’t know if the purr affects her as much as it should. I’m worried that if you weren’t enhanced it wouldn’t work at all. Look at me sweetie, can you focus on face?”

His hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head carefully while watching your eyes. You couldn’t find the energy to focus on his face; you couldn’t imagine the purr affecting you more than it already was and dreaded the idea that it could be worse. What did enhanced mean? Like the superheroes you’d been hearing about? You didn’t keep up on current events, unless they were Omega's Rights related.

“I’m sure it’s a result of the beta chemicals dampening her omega instincts,” Peter shifted you slightly as Bruce exchanged his gloves for a new pair. "Once her body starts producing hormones on its own again she should revert back to common responses to alpha stimuli.”

“You’re probably right, we’ll know for sure once I get the blood results,” Bruce gestured for Peter to sit up more, bringing your limp body with him. “I’m going to do a breast exam and a pelvic exam and we’re done. There are some other tests I want to run but I don’t have the equipment on hand so they’ll have to wait until Tony manages to get here. Peter, can you help move her arms?”

You felt like you almost managed to swim through the purr, rage fueling you as hands manipulated your breasts. The exam itself was clinical, professional even—or it would’ve been if he hadn’t been cooing at you the whole time, how good you were being, how sweet you were, how pretty your breasts were. Peter had hummed in agreement along with the doctor, his nose trailing up and down your neck. Your hands clenched into fists and you could feel Peter’s grip on your wrists shift with the movement.

“Calm down, baby,” the alpha’s voice cooed gently against the side of your head, lips pressing into your hair as Bruce shifted away and went for the medical cabinet again. "This is important. Suppressants could’ve caused tons of problems, cancerous growths in sexual organs or secondary sex characteristics is very common.”

Death would be a reprieve. The same thought that crossed your mind any time you considered the potential effects of suppressants. A reprieve from the hiding, the exhaustion, living out of your car or a tent, eating garbage because it was all you could afford—from the constant threat of having your autonomy ripped from your hands.

You relaxed your fists until you felt his grip loosen again, even if only slightly. Your only chance would be to rely on surprise and your speed, there was no other way you’d be able to get away. Forcing your body to relax was a trial though, adrenaline was starting to course through you the more you became used to the effects of the purr. Your scent was still massively dampened by the suppressants, Peter likely wouldn’t be able to smell the shift from fear to anticipation. You bit down on the sluggishly bleeding wound on your tongue, reigniting both the pain and blood flow.

“Alright, last part, we’re almost done and then we’ll get you comfortable, okay?” Bruce was wearing new gloves again, a bottle in hand as he walked back over. "Have you had a pelvic exam before?”

You waited until he was close enough and performed what seemed to be your go to act of defiance: spitting blood directly in his face. He reared back with a short curse, Peter immediately releasing your wrists—his goal was likely to readjust you in his lap, to gain a better hold, but you were fast, faster than an alpha (always faster than alphas, it was all you had). You’d slipped from his lap and darted for the automatic doors before either of them could respond. Running through the woods naked was the lesser evil.

Steel bands. You should’ve noticed, the doors opened too soon for them to be reacting to your presence, you were so focused on getting through. But the moment you did, it felt like steel bands wrapped around your torso, pinning your arms.

The alpha’s scent was like Steve’s—the moment your brain registered it the world went hazy. You were floating, body going limp for a precious few seconds that the alpha used to sweep you into his arms and stalk further into the room. Your senses came back just in time for you to be deposited back into Peter’s lap on the table, a massive blond alpha coming into view for the first time. Your gaze was immediately stuck on his, the heterochromatic eyes nearly hypnotizing. Fighting the daze he put you in was overwhelming, especially when a wide smile split his lips and his cheeks dimpled. One massive hand reached out, almost engulfing the entire lower half of your face.

“Hello little love.” Were alphas always as insanely massive as this one and Steve, or had you just stumbled across literally your worst nightmare? “They told me you’re a flighty thing, I suppose I arrived just in time, hm? Are you going to spit blood in my face as well? It seems to be your calling card.”

The look on your face must’ve betrayed the fact that you were really, really considering it. You had a mouthful of blood and nowhere to put it but his face, honestly. Instead you used the fact that Peter was mostly propping you up to lean over the edge of the table and proceeded to open your mouth, spilling blood down onto the alpha’s shoes nice white shoes.

“I wouldn’t challenge her,” Bruce’s voice drew your attention to where he was using a towel to wipe blood off his glasses, a wry smile and affection clear on his face. "She’s putting a lot of effort into being belligerent.”

The blond alpha rumbled with a grin, thumb brushing across your cheekbone. "It’s been a stressful day for her, there’s nothing she can do that will cause any persisting damage anyway. Let her have her little rebellions.”

You wanted to be furious—what kind of asshole looked a person dead in the eyes and called their attempts to escape false imprisonment little rebellions?—but Peter seemed to have realized where your train of thought had gone because he started purring immediately. Your spine went boneless, laying you flat against his chest.

“Can you lean up against the wall with her?” Bruce directed the younger alpha to shift until both of your legs were dangling over the edge, Peter’s back to the wall the table sat against. “You’re going to need to hold her in place, even while you purr. Alright sweetie, let’s get this out of the way. Thor, will you hold her leg please?”

The sound you made was an accident. Desperation and humiliation were crawling up your spine with astounding speed, even with Peter’s purr going like a motorboat and the sound was making it too hard to think through your instincts. Omega cries were a deliberate counterpart to the noises alphas made; whines and cries and hisses, perfectly pitched to make an alpha’s hindbrain stand at attention. The sound you made was a sharp, chirping whine—distress, distress, distress, help me, help me help m—

“Oh little love,” Thor’s voice had dropped several registers and he gently shuffled Bruce to the side so he could stand in front of you, slipping as close to the table as possible and tugging your legs to rest on either side of his hips and gently running his hands over your skin. “Let’s get you taken care of, you need rest.”

The pheromones he was putting out were meant to calm but you immediately opened your mouth, using the overwhelming scent of your own blood to drown them out. The alpha sighed and stepped aside again, taking your leg with him and spreading your thigh to rest over Peter’s leg with your foot planted on the table. A whine rose in your throat again but you locked it down, instead biting down on your tongue yet again. It was as grounding as it was painful, the tang of it souring your stomach.

It was your last coherent thought, that you were starting to feel nauseous from all of the blood you'd swallowed. Thor began to purr just after that and the sound was entirely devastating, bone deep and you went completely limp, your head falling to the side against Peter’s chest and your shoulders dropping. This is what acid felt like, you were pretty sure.

Your eyes lazily followed Bruce’s path as the doctor took his place between your legs again, lifting the other into a matching position. Some part of you was fully aware of how gut wrenching this was; completely naked and spread wide in front of two alphas and a beta, a situation you’d rather kill yourself than be in, but your brain couldn’t follow any emotional tethers while Thor purred. The doctor was speaking, you could feel his hands manipulating your vulva, but you couldn’t understand anything coming out of his mouth.

Peter’s hand came to your chin and tilted your head back until you could see him, smiling down at you. His mouth moved, your eyes almost able to track the movement of his lips enough to read them but your brain gave up halfway through. The two alphas were chuckling over something but you were distracted by the discomfort of something being inserted into your vagina. A sharp yip escaped your lips, your body still completely boneless as your eyes rolled down.

“It’s a speculum, sweetie, I’m sorry it’s uncomfortable,” it sounded like Bruce was talking underwater and you could almost feel his breath on your thigh, your mind irritatingly unable to think beyond the question 'who just keeps a fucking speculum lying around?' "Just a few more seconds while I get a pap smear.”

More discomfort came before the instrument was removed, another yip leading Peter to purr along side Thor. The rest of the exam was a blur, slippery fingers and pressure and foreign sensations. You could barely think, let alone realize that Bruce was finishing up the manual exam, when your eyes noticed movement behind them. You couldn’t really make out anything, nothing would focus, but you assumed it was Steve and Sam.

There were more voices but you couldn’t hear anything for an indeterminate amount of time. It wasn’t until Thor stopped purring again that you were able to start regaining your senses, as much as the continuous rumbling in Peter’s chest would allow. The difference between the sounds the two alphas produced was marked by your sudden ability to focus your eyes, to concentrate on voices, in the way your muscular control was slowly returning.

You were almost glad the young alpha was still purring—it meant that the spike of terror that tried to shoot through you was somewhat dulled, enough that it wouldn’t show in your scent. Sam and Steve had indeed come in, accompanied by a young woman with long auburn hair and porcelain skin, a beta from the scent. As soon as she made eye contact with you she smiled vibrantly, slipping forward and sneaking between your still spread thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, long fingers stroking absently against your neck as she leaned in, forcing your back tighter against Peter’s chest. "Will you let me see your trauma my love?”

Some sort of red miasma filled your vision, a fog you quickly realized was coming from her hands—and realization slammed into you like a freight train. You seen that before, in passing. And then the recognition made you nauseous—Thor. You didn’t keep up with current events, but certain names you couldn’t miss. Thor, Tony Stark, Captain America. Your eyes flashed to the blond man standing towards the back of the room; Captain America, Steve Rogers.

Desperation shot through your body like you’d been tazed. Your foot shot out of Thor’s hold, the alpha hadn’t been putting any actual effort into holding you still since you’d been so dazed, and connected with the woman’s chest to send her reeling. Before anyone else could respond, your throat rasped for several seconds before a warbling shriek escaped. The four alphas in the vicinity reacted like they’d been shot; Thor and Steve both stumbled back, and Sam’s knees practically gave out, sending him careening into the wall. Behind you, Peter, far too close to the source, immediately went limp.

There were several distress calls an omega could make. Most of the time, they were whines or chirps, noises meant to draw attention from packmates. They were small, careful sounds—nothing loud enough to attract attention from a foreign alpha or delta. Omegas were quarry to be stolen, after all, which was precisely why they had one, singular method of defending themselves against their biggest biological threat and that was a shriek.

When in close proximity, the sound was loud enough and tuned just so to daze an alpha’s hindbrain. The evolutionary explanation was that a loud shriek meant that an omega being confronted by an aggressive alpha could both temporarily stun their attacker and summon assistance—alphas or deltas, far enough away that the negative effects were nullified but within proximity to hear that an omega was in danger. The assumption being, of course, that an omega who shrieked was in danger from a stranger, not a packmate.

It only worked for a very short time though, any alpha or delta in the area would immediately converge on the omega’s location and deal with the problem—it was the reason you hadn’t used it outside. There was no reason for the effects to last when it summoned immediate assistance, though, and that meant you needed to move. You slid off the table, bare feet slapping tile as you just barely managed to dodge Bruce’s grasp. The woman, the witch from the news, was on the floor clutching her sternum.

The stairs were a blur, so was the foyer and the driveway. You hesitated at your car for all of ten seconds before running for the forest; your keys were in the pocket of your jeans, back down in the basement. Abandoning all of your possessions hurt somewhere deep in your heart but there wasn’t any time for sentiment. You had to get away, quickly.

Luckily the woods had become your home a long time ago. You moved between the trees silently, feet so heavily calloused from constantly going barefoot that you didn’t even notice the twigs and sharp stones digging into your flesh. Your brain shot into overtime. You needed to steal clothes, then cash. You’d lived with nothing for years, you could do it again for however long you needed to. The only thing you really needed was suppressants; everything else was a luxury.

You assumed they were behind you, you’d been running for a good three minutes. The straight path meant they could follow you easier but the goal had to be the maximum distance possible rather than the most strategic pattern. Your only advantage was being fast and you had no choice but to rely on it, especially since your hindbrain was wailing with every step you took. The suppressants were the only reason you could do it at all, the trade off for quieting those damn instincts being a tolerable mildness of character that did not appreciate the constant, incessant shriek of your baser self while you were trying to focus.

All you had to do was keep quiet until you could find one of the creeks running through the forest—so close to Lake Superior there was water everywhere. You would run through the creek in several different places, to mask your scent and make it difficult to follow. It wouldn’t be hard to find a hunting blind or shack, a hole in the ground was better than going back there. The moment your eyes caught on running water you dove into it, covering yourself with mud before jumping back up to continue running.

Captain America was super fast and you’d bet the rest of them were similar if not the same and you needed more distance. Somewhere in the back of your mind, prey behavior was setting in. Natural selection had driven your existence, you were the result of thousands of years of evolution, and the life you’d lived meant you were far more adapted to being hunted than most omegas. You were vulnerable but not helpless and as you coated yourself in more mud from a different part of the creek, chemosensory instincts started rattling through you.

They were coming. Your scent was inhibited by the suppressant’s and that made it harder for them to follow you but they were doing their best. Combined with the water and the mud, your scent was very difficult to pin down, even for a super soldier. You contemplated climbing a tree to hide, but the insane memory of how keen the noses of the pack following you were spurred you on. You kept running, covering yourself in mud two more times, before finding a tree with a massive tangle of roots at the bottom. Fighting whatever creature had made a home down there was worth it—it went deep, was heavily covered by underbrush and detritus from the trees, but most importantly it was surrounded by wild bergamot in full bloom.

It smelled lovely, spicy and floral with a citrusy overtone. You crawled through the dirt, wiggling between the roots and carefully avoiding crushing any plants or branches that could give you away. Whatever lived in there was out, likely foraging, and you took the creature’s absence to your advantage and pressed as far back into the hole as possible.

You weren’t tired, despite the long, exhausting day and the fucking trauma. Another small grace that adaption had provided was that once an omega began producing adrenaline, sleep became unnecessary—it was actually considered a very unenviable omega trait in the general population, but you’d found it’s uses worth the unpleasant side effects. Your heart would continue to race for the next several hours, your pupils wouldn’t return to normal for potentially days and your blood sugar had sky rocketed and that was going to be a nightmare for how ever long it lasted.

The waiting was going to hurt—there was nothing to pass the time and you had to actively focus on not being terrified or your omega scent could seep through, oh, what was it now? Five coats of mud from the creek, a significant amount of bergamot, and fifteen years of whatever the fuck suppressants did to your scent over time.

It wasn’t ten minutes later that you heard them. Stealth wasn’t their objective, that was clear from the amount of noise they made. You could hear Steve and Peter calling your name, although you didn’t know how they knew it. Thor was speaking, his tone low but certainly not quiet. They weren’t even moving that fast, walking almost leisurely.

“She’ll need to bathe and eat. Clint and Natasha are finishing up in New York. Steve, have you heard from Tony or Bucky? Carol?”

“Tony’s wrapping up, should be flying over pretty soon. Carol and Bucky were on their way up but I gave them a list of things to grab while they’re going through the bigger cities. Shouldn’t be too much longer for them either though.”

Steve and Thor were different than Sam or Peter. You couldn’t pin down exactly what had set your teeth on edge, but the scent the two blond alphas gave off was different. Their pheromones were worse, more infectious. Eye contact with Steve had made your hindbrain beg to go to him, regardless of the rationality you could usually manage thanks to the suppressants. You could remember the feel of Thor’s hand on like it was seared into your skin instead, you wanted him to never not be touching you ever again—

If you could’ve slapped yourself without making noise you would’ve. The stupid omega in your brain, that dumb, easy cunt was going to get you killed. You sealed your lips, clenched your teeth and tucked your hands under your bent knees. Night was starting to fall to your benefit, the shadows were getting darker. You were so far back they would have to crouch down and crawl half way in to see you.

If you could keep your wits until they passed you could double back, trying to find your keys would be a wash but you could grab clothes from the back of your ancient Tahoe. You weren’t sure how long you’d been in the basement, but you didn’t think it was long enough for them to have gone through your things.

“Could she have gotten this far?” You held your breath as Sam stopped far too close to your hiding place for comfort.

“Omegas are fast and she seemed faster than most,” Bruce answered. “We’ll know for sure once her blood work comes back, but from her physiology I’d say she presents as a classical omega. She’s probably the first in her family in a long, long time. To have a scream that loud in this day and age? The omega gene must’ve been skipped so long that there was no chance for it to adapt to modern omega qualities.”

“There’ve been some studies suggesting that the classical omega attributes are making a come back in the general population,” Peter’s voice came from much farther away. "They haven’t been peer reviewed enough yet and they haven’t been replicated en masse because they don’t have enough subjects, alphas aren’t exactly thrilled to have their omegas studied, but—”

“The lack of data aside, I assume there’s a correlation between the alphas willing to allow their omegas to participate and the behavior of the omega in question. Do you think—”

“Focus, Bruce,” Steve’s voice was light with affection. "The point is that yes, she could’ve gotten this far or farther. The way she keeps running into the creek is messing up the footprints and—”

Their voices faded as they continued the same linear path you’d been running earlier. The fact that they didn’t even sound a little concerned that you could get away was both insulting and unnerving. You didn’t need alphas having that kind of confidence regarding your behavior—and why weren’t they moving any faster? The paranoia was immediate and overwhelming, what did they know about that you didn’t? Something they assumed would hinder you farther along in the woods? Something they were planning for when they found you? When.

You forced yourself to count slowly to six hundred, waiting what you hoped was a full ten minutes before silently crawling out of your hide. Their scents were everywhere, you could smell where Sam had been standing almost directly over the opening in the roots. They were still too close for comfort and you turned, running back through the forest. Your feet were starting to feel sore, usually you’d at least watch where you stepped but there just wasn’t time—you had to get away before they could enact their plans.

The clearing the cabin sat in was coming up and you forced yourself to slow as you approached the tree line, keeping a careful eye out for the beta woman. You couldn’t remember what her call sign was, something to do with witches, and you definitely didn’t want her using that red magic stuff on your head.

The extra seconds of waiting paid off, watching her pace the porch for a few moments before her phone rang. She answered, walking inside and closing the doors behind her. You didn’t wait an extra second, darting across the clearing to where you car was sitting in the driveway with the trunk popped. They must’ve started going through your things but stopped part of the way through.

You could see one of your go bags though, squished between your rolled up sleeping bag and tent. The straps of the bag squeaked with how hard you yanked it out, hesitating slightly—instinct told you to leave the sleeping bag, but you’d grown used to the luxury of it and leaving the stupid thing behind made you decidedly sad. You tossed the straps of the go bag over your shoulder and turned away, knowing it would slow you down and—

There was an Iron Man suit standing directly behind you, gauntlets rested on the hips and the head cocked to the side. You froze, as if staying still could prevent it from noticing you. Fuck, you hoped there wasn’t a man in there. A stupid thought, you considered as you stared silently, trying to decide if there was any way out. Hope was a joke at this point but you didn’t have anything else.

“Hi princess,” it was a distinctly human voice, if filtered. "Hope I didn’t miss too much of the fun.”

content warning: nonconsensual medical procedures, general noncon touching/assault.

edited 7/9/21 - still on hiatus

#avengers x reader #dark!avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #thor x reader #peter parker x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x reader #carol danvers x reader #clint barton x reader #will reblog w tags

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because-im-write · 4 years

Text

The Beloved Big Sister of 1-7, feat the Beloved Number Five

5/7 1 2 3 4 “Luther was always awkward around X. She was too straight forward for him, his tendency to shy away and take the quick routes out never went well with her. But he used to try... try and be strong like her. In the end if made them closer than any of us thought they would be.” -Vanya

Five knocked on the door to what was once Ben’s room. He made a good guess. X’s sleepy voice came through the door.

‘What?’

‘I’m going out, you’re coming with me,’ he said, leaning on the wall to wait.

There was a muffled groan, a grumble and the sound of movement. Five knew that X wasn’t going to be more than 100 metres away from him at any given time for at least two months after just getting him back.

There was a clump, and curse or three, a sigh, a half-restricted yawn and then the door opened.

‘Where are we going?’ yawned X, forcing her hair into shape absentmindedly with a grouchy hand. She looked about Five’s physical age and he blinked in surprise; it had been a very long time since he’d seen young X.

‘Ben’s bed is too small for an adult,’ X explained, aging herself up.

‘Glass eye,’ Five reported, as X eyed the bag slung around his shoulders with no surprise whatsoever. ‘Watching that guy, I don’t trust him.’

She shrugged a shoulder, ‘alright,’ and followed him through the house. ‘Wait,’ she said when she realised Five’s route, ‘we’re not taking that god-awful van in the alley, are we?’

‘Why not?’ Five glared.

‘Well, Klaus is out there dumpster diving for one,’ X yawned, ‘rattling around outside the windows. Also it stinks.’

‘Well what do you suggest?’

‘Take your Dad’s car, he’s not going to miss it.’

Five pulled a face that said he’d like to argue about stealth and needless ostentatious behaviours, giving up before he’d even started and followed her out the front door.

They got in the car and she turned the keys.

Five pulled the bag onto his lap as they drove, unzipping it and pulling out Delores.

X glanced to the side to see what he was doing. ‘How is she?’

‘She’s fine,’ Five sighed lovingly, caressing the bullet holes in the mannequin.

X kept her eyes on the road. ‘If you’re going to keep doing that, I’m dropping you at a hotel.’

Five scoffed and pulled Delores upright to face outside.

Delores apparently said something.

Five laughed. ‘Yeah, she is, isn’t she.’

‘You two aren’t shit talking me, I hope,’ X said distractedly, trying to look around the corner.

‘She said you’re funny,’ Five explained.

‘I’m sure,’ X responded, unconvinced.

‘Yes, I was happy to see her. ... You were right. ... All these years.’ Five sighed.

‘Hey lovebirds,’ X announced, pulling the handbrake up. ‘We’re here.’

They watched the factory in content, peaceful silence, after a while resorting to taking turns watching while the other napped or talked to Delores, or read.

The tranquility was disturbed as a back door was opened and the car creaked from the great weight of Number One, pulling himself into the car.

‘What the...’ Five hissed, glaring at the disturbance as he stirred from his thoughts. ‘You shouldn’t be...’ he stared at Luther in disbelief.

X had a similarly bewildered expression.

‘How did you find us?’ Five asked.

‘Uh.’ Luther looked down at his feet.

Klaus emerged, somehow having managed to fit in the space below the back seats.

‘What the...’ X jumped, blinking down at Klaus, beyond impressed.

Klaus sent her a wink and a wave.

‘GET OUT!’ Five groaned, ‘we’re in the middle of something, go away!’

X put a hand to her head.

‘Have you found the man with one eye yet?’ Klaus asked, leaning over X’s chair as he somehow managed to sit beside Luther.

‘W-,’ Luther began.

‘Doesn’t matter, it’s Klaus,’ Five grumbled sternly. ‘What do you want, Luther?’ He glanced back at the factory, antsy.

‘Um, so Grace may have had something to do with Dad’s death,’ Luther announced as if he was on the news.

Five frowned a little but seemed otherwise very unperturbed. X wasn’t far different.

‘So I need you to come back to the Academy. It’s important.’

There were many times, Five reflected, in fact it was most of the time, that Luther’s ratio between brain and brawn was very difficult to deal with. ‘Important,’ he muttered.

‘Why, are we giving Grace a medal?’ X asked lightly.

Klaus clapped his hands at the idea. On the other side of Luther, Ben snickered.

Luther gazed at X in a stupor. ‘X, this is our Dad!’

‘Your Dad,’ she corrected nonchalantly, ‘and so what?’

‘Hey,’ said Klaus suddenly, before Luther could rile up further, ‘did I ever tell you guys about the time I waxed my ass with chocolate pudding?’

‘Yes,’ X replied, tired among the disgusted faces of the others.

‘Why are you still here?’ Luther asked.

‘Wha-’ Klaus flapped, ‘I need an excuse to-,’

‘-we’re trying to have a conversation-,’

‘-I should-,’

‘Luther’s got a point,’ Five interrupted pleasantly, ‘you should get out.’

With more grumbling, Klaus exited. He rounded the car and rapped jazz-like on the driver’s window.

X rolled it down.

‘I’m peckish,’ Klaus whispered in a complaint.

X glanced behind her at the hell Five was in and the storm Luther was creating. Without resisting, she nodded in resignation and got out.

‘Whoa, whoa,’ Five startled, leaving the conversation with Luther immediately, grabbing her arm with a frantic grip. ‘Where are you going?’

X put a hand over his grip, squeezing it reassuringly. She looked into his eyes until the panic left his and she nodded.

Five looked back to Luther so he wouldn’t have to see her moving away.

Klaus linked their arms automatically and skipped her over to the corner shop.

Luther frowned. ‘What’s with you?’

‘What do you mean?’ Five glowered with his impatient grin.

‘I’ve never seen you...’ Luther wisely trailed off as Five’s eyes widened threateningly. He changed tact. ‘You know what your problem is, Five?’

Five nearly rolled his eyes.

‘That one?’ X pointed to a chicken 2-minute noodle.

‘Oh, no, no, no,’ Klaus sighed with a gentle sway, ‘it doesn’t taste like chicken at all, it tastes like turkey.’

X nodded thoughtfully. ‘Hmmm,’ she agreed, and put it back.

‘Get the pork, get the pork!’ Klaus said, seeing the flavour behind her.

‘Is it good?’

‘It’s delightful. SHHHHHHH,’ he then hissed at what X presumed was a ghost. ‘By the way, what’s up with Five?’ Klaus sauntered conversationally, twirling a packet of something into the wrong shelf. ‘He seems almost petrified,’ Klaus made a clown-like shocked face, ‘to let you out of his sight.’

‘ You noticed it, too, huh?’ X replied casually with a fond grin at Klaus. ‘It’s certainly more than even I’d expect. I haven’t asked because he’ll tell me when he wants to,’ she stood up with a small groan, ‘and I’m not sure I really want to know.’

‘I don’t think I’m better than you, Number One,’ Five said, restrained. ‘I know I am. I’m better than all of you, and you know it, too. Telling yourself otherwise won’t get you anywhere. In fact, the only one of you better than me, is X.’

Luther felt defensive. ‘Oh, so that’s why you barely talk to us after coming back but don’t leave X out of your sight?’

Five opened his mouth to retort but Luther pressed on.

‘X has lived 28 years without you, Five, you can’t be around her forever.’

Five had fully rounded in his seat, two seconds away from punching Luther in his rambling mouth.

X looked at the piled of food in her arms. ‘Okay, noodles, chips, oranges... anything else?’

‘I could go for an ice-cream. Chocolate?’ He fished in the freezer and got them both an ice-cream, placing them on top of the mess in X’s arms.

‘Uh... dammit. My purse is in the car,’ X realised. She’d been so preoccupied with reassuring Five that she had forgotten to bring her bag.

‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got the backup plan,’ Klaus announced with a grin.

‘You always did like to tease me that she liked you better...’ Luther was spiraling into a bout of his usual self pity, staring blankly ahead as he nodded philosophically to himself. ‘I think I know her better than you do, now, though,’ he added thoughtfully, completely missing the pained tension that flashed across his brother’s eyes as he was reminded of all the time he missed and the years he spent aching for his siblings and X.

But he doubted and disregarded Luther’s, really rather un-thoughtful, words without hesitation. If anything, it made him more impatient. In a second Five was leaning closer toward Luther menacingly. ‘I don’t have time for your insecurities, Luther.’ He grabbed him by the collar and pulled him forward with a sharp tug. ‘I didn’t drag myself back in time to deal with this, in fact, I came back here to try and save all of you.’

Luther, eyes rabbit wide at the hold he was in, looked out of the window in a feeble attempt to try and escape Five’s fury in time to hear a hoot and see Klaus pushing X out of the shops, a pile of food in her arms. A security guard was chasing after them.

Five turned around at the sound of X’s voice as she squealed across the road, laughing as together she and Klaus evaded the guard.

‘Hey bitches!’ Klaus yelled at the car.

‘Though I’m beginning to wonder if it was worth it,’ sighed Five, letting go of Luther, who couldn’t see the hidden happiness in the young face as he watched X and Klaus. His eyes hollowed a little when X disappeared somewhere unknown around a corner. ‘I’m busy. I’ll get back when I get back. Right now I’m busy.’

The guard started to catch up. While they ran, X passed as much of the food as she could to Klaus, dropped the rest, grabbed him by the shoulders and surged down an alley, then onto a street, back around the block and beside the car.

Klaus opened the door and they shuffled themselves inside, scooting over the back seats, now vacated by Luther, and made themselves comfortable. X passed the before startled and now relaxed Five a bag of chips and an orange and peered into whatever already open package Klaus was offering her.

‘Luther went back home,’ Five told them, settling back in his chair to watch the factory.

‘Oh, darn it,’ Klaus cried with an exaggerated sigh. ‘I guess I’ll have to go, too.’ He let out another dramatic sigh and picked out the noodles from the food. ‘I’ll see you later.’ He clambered out of the car again and sauntered away.

‘How was the heist?’ Five asked.

X was throwing the shopping into the front seats. ‘Oh, good. Klaus has been a terrible influence the more the years have gone.’

Five’s head lowered by a fraction and he felt the same regret Luther had brought up in him reappear. He ignored the look Delores gave him.

Then his mood dropped as quickly as it came, washed gently away as X was already clambering back into the driver’s seat to sit beside him.

They continued in their weird happy stakeout exchanging stories until they were a lot further caught up with what had happened over their years.

It was dark and they’d moved their seats back to lie down a little, keeping their eyes lazily on the entrance to the factory. If X wasn’t there, Five would have been a great deal more transfixed, but he found himself quite relaxed. Turns out X was the only one in the family besides Pogo and Grace that knew Luther was a little ape-y, something Five had discovered in the apocalypse. He didn’t bother to ask how she knew, she always knew these kinds of things.

He sighed. Even though the task he felt on his shoulders like lead was great, he was doing all he could. That would have to do.

The conversation had quietened while X ate a little more, and Five stared down at the glass eye, still able to picture it in Luther’s dead hand after all this time. He stole a very quick glance at X, keeping his eyes and head low. With the flames still burning he’d found bodies of his siblings, crushed, beaten and broken, seemingly knocked back as they fought.

He’d found no trace of Ben, the reason for why he later found after finding Vanya’s book and clearing a bit of the rubble to find the white grave, but it had taken him even longer to find X.

She was strong, and fast, and healed at an incredible speed. She was so strong that even after the torment of finding his family dead, he had some strange persistent hope left in his heart that maybe, just maybe, X had survived. If anyone could have, it was her.

After two days Five was searching for any more clues or hints in the rubble of the house when he saw a hand buried under a huge mountain of rubble. Telling himself it was just a hand, he’d seen many these days, he gently reached down. It had no warmth. But it felt very familiar.

Feeling like he wasn’t quite managing to control himself, since half of him wanted to run away and never know, he spent a long time trying to get enough of the large pieces of wall to fall away off the pile. Then he dug out the rest and, not even looking at the body, pulled it by the hand out. Once it was on flat ground, he was knelt beside it with his eyes closed. He took a few deep breaths and forced them open.

He shut them immediately with a strangled cry and put his head under his arms.

Diego was a mum’s boy. He’d been raised completely attached to Grace, with her as his guide and source of paternal love. Not that there was a word for it, but Five was a big sister’s boy. Back then, he’d never have admitted it, not even for a second, but if he’d been asked by a stranger on the street who his guardian was, his mind would go to X straight away, and stay there. To Luther and Diego she’d been a harsh but fun older sister, to Vanya, Klaus, Allison and Ben she’d been a mix between the cool aunt type and the big sister. To Five, she was paternal and sisterly.

And now she lay beside him, body stuck forever in mid-twenties. He hadn’t seen anything properly, just her face, and rocking back and forth a little he gasped for air and looked again, then away as if it had seared his face, cringing and hiding behind his hand.

He was right. It did take a lot to kill X. Not only had she clearly been thrown across the entire manor, probably blasted through the ceiling, but some sort of shrapnel had flown into her neck, her shirt stained with dried blood, easily litres’ worth.

In the days after, when he had recovered enough to set about burying them, Five had removed the shrapnel and discovered another piece lodged shallowly at the back of her head.

‘Well, well,’ X declared suddenly, clapping her hands and resembling Klaus a great deal.

Five sniffled, spooked and looked up. X was watching the man from before, Lance??, exit his work, and get into a car that had pulled up in front of him, looking very suspicious.

‘It looks like someone needs another little visit,’ X remarked.

Five sniffled again at the sound of her voice and she frowned and turned her attention to him.

He gave her an embarrassed laugh as he wiped his face with his hand and sleeve. ‘I, uh... I just remembered a few things.’

She nearly scoffed at him, her expression telling him exactly what bits of his words she’d easily pick apart. ‘Five.’

‘I found you,’ he managed through a thick gulp. ‘In the apocalypse.’ He settled into his usual glum repertoire whenever he mentioned what he’d seen. ‘You were killed by shrapnel. To the neck and head, and you were blown through the air, the length of the block.’

X’s eyes mellowed and her head tilted slightly as the final piece of information slotted everything into complete understanding. She grabbed his hand and pulled him into her embrace, wrapping him in as much warmth as she could. She rocked gently from side to side to keep herself animated.

Bullets rained through the Umbrella Academy and Allison, Luther and Diego pelted full speed through the mansion.

‘X?! WHERE THE HELL IS X?! X! WHERE- VANYA, GET OUT OF HERE!’

‘I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON, VANYA, GO!’

‘YEAH, YEAH, GO, FIND X! YOU’LL BE SAFE WITH HER!’

Five sighed as he rolled over. He hadn’t slept this well in... well, just under fifty years. The bed was unbelievably comfortable, it was a smell and atmosphere he hadn’t been in since a week before he time traveled, and Delores was beside him again.

The sound of footsteps stirred his sleep, but didn’t wake him up.

X scratched her head as she walked through her house toward the front door, glancing at the clocks to make sure she wasn’t in a dream and it wasn’t nearly midnight.

She looked through the peephole and saw Vanya, shivering from the cold and scared.

Immediately she ripped the door open and Vanya fell in to her arms. ‘X!’

‘Whoa... Vanya...’

X put her arm around Vanya and picked her up, carrying her to the comfiest spot on the couch. Vanya was too tired and shocked to say anything.

‘These people, they attacked... they attacked the academy - everyone’s fine, but it was scary, I, they told me to run and find you, so I’m, I’m here, to be safe.’

X put a hand on her shoulder and then moved into the kitchen, making Vanya cocoa. ‘Tell me only what you want; I can ask later.’

Vanya swallowed and clasped her hands together. ‘There were two people, I think, with machine guns... I heard gunfire and went down to see if everyone was okay, then, I don’t know, someone attacked me, Luther pulled them off and they yelled at me to run.’

‘Highly trained?’ X asked in a tone that said she didn’t care if Vanya answered or not.

‘Uh...’ Vanya’s forehead creased. ‘I don’t know. I think so, even Diego had a hard time. I got a message from Allison saying they’re fine but to stay away in case they come back.’

‘No wonder they sent you to me.’ X passed her the cocoa.

Five growled as he was woken and rolled out of one of X’s many spare beds in the large room, stomping out into the living room. ‘Who the hell is here this late-,’ he stopped when he saw Vanya, mouth closing gently.

Vanya had looked up at the movement

‘Vanya?’ He moved and sat beside X on the coffee table, leaning closely toward Number 7.

‘A team of two attacked the Academy,’ X summarised, ‘they’re fine, Vanya’s here to be safe. Highly trained,’ she added in answer to Five’s question before he could ask it.

‘Yeah, that’s probably something to do with me,’ Five muttered solemnly. ‘Vanya. I’m sorry.’

‘No,’ Vanya said, ‘no, it’s okay. I’m fine, just a shock. It’s been a while since anything crazy like that has happened around me. I’ll be fine.’ She took a sip of the cocoa and felt better.

‘Stay here for the night,’ X said, putting her hand on Vanya’s shoulder again. ‘You know no one gets past me.’

The words made Five squirm a little as he felt a little colder. He shuffled closer to X. She put her other hand on Five’s shoulder. ‘Come on, bed time.’

‘That beanie does nothing for him,’ X remarked airily as they watched Lance from afar. Five was beside her as they sat on the edge of the building, watching the street below. It had been very easy to tail him with X surging them from rooftop to rooftop, following the car as it trudged through the dismal traffic like smug birds.

Lance was returning to his car. Five stretched and stood up, the usual madness springing into his eyes.

X chewed on a candy happily as she watched Five disappear and reappear in the passenger seat of the car, putting a knife to Lance’s throat.

‘One more thing,’ Five finished as he leaned back into the passenger seats. ‘My sister’s coming, too.’

‘Your...’ Lance frowned.

The back door opened and X slid into the seats, grinning at Lance lazily. ‘Hi again.’

Lance knew better than to ask questions. He drove.

They got the factory and Five marched up the path, then they noticed the smoke pouring from the building. X and Five left lance behind as they broke into a run. X grabbed Five and surged them the rest of the way and around the corner toward the entrance. She let go of him and he felt her already speeding away. He looked at the flames completely engulfing the building.

‘NO!’ he screamed, reaching into the air where X was an instant before in an attempt to stop her.

Mid surge, X had seen what he had and she, lightning fast, turned her head as she flew toward the flaming doors.

The blast wave from the explosion hit Five first, sending him flying back, then he was vaguely aware of X holding him before the heat reached him.

He landed cushioned by the arms held protectively over him.

X ducked her head as shrapnel and fire blew behind her and once the explosion had ended she stood up, helping Five stand.

He checked her head and neck for injuries with a quick scan and then stared, still behind and holding onto one of X’s arms, at the wreckage of the glass eye factory.

‘... ... ... ... ... ... ... shit!’ he growled eventually and gave up, letting his weight collapse on X as he stared dismally at the smoke.

@woohoney @i-think-you-are-gr8 @irrelevantyettopicalusername @catvader101 @theamazinghana @livinlifelikeishould @itsintothegreatbeyondstuff @reallysparklychaos @queenmissfit @shadowsndaisies @narcissistic-ginger @glass-ghost @mikariell95 @clinomanians @death-s-embrace @garbage-potato @sarcasticsweater @blueoceans-clearskies

#i'm sorry #but it had to be done #tua imagine #tua #The Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy imagine #five #five imagine #number five imagine #klaus imagine #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #ben imagine #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #Allison Hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #vanya imagine #the umbrella academy x reader

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socontagiousimagines · 4 years

Text

Games - Draco x Reader

hi! hope everyone is staying safe and healthy!! sort of a little modern au thing coming at ya... also just for giggles, they’re all 18 but still at Hogwarts.. ok thanks bye, hope you enjoy!!!

also I’ve switched to color gifs, idk if anyone noticed before but I used to use strictly black and white ones 😅

a few songs actually inspired this one, so it’s very loosely based on josslyn by olivia o’brien (the main one), almost is never enough by ariana grande and keep it to yourself by kacey musgraves

Request - Nope.

Warnings - mentions of “cheating,” mentions of sex, cussing

In case you skipped the beginning, please note that this is a modern au.

“Draco, can you please move your elbow? I’m trying to take notes and you’re always in my way.” Y/N said, shoving Draco’s arm lightly. His blue eyes slid to her Y/E/C ones. He leaned over so his mouth was next to her ear and she felt his breath as he said the word “no,” and leaned back over to his side with a smirk. Y/N fought the urge to shiver. Her tongue ran across her teeth.

Sighing and choosing not to argue with him for fear of getting caught by Snape, she turned back towards the front of the classroom and scooted to the end of their table. She had a few moments of writing in peace before the platinum haired boy slid closer to her, putting his elbow next to hers. Taking a quick glance at him, she saw the smirk still plastered on his face and she couldn’t help the smile that graced her face.

Draco wasn’t ugly by any means. He had been taught from a very young age that appearance was everything. His skin was perfect. His hair was always perfect. And he was dressed well no matter what he was doing that day. And especially looking at him from this angle, Y/N couldn’t help it as her eyes grazed his face from his perfectly done hair to the slant of his pointy nose and his sharp jawline and --

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer, Y/L/N. Come on, class is over.” he said. Before she could fully process what he had said, he was slamming her book closed and plucking the quill from her hand and throwing them both in her bag. She stood, taking her outstretched bag from him.

They walked silently beside each other, heading towards the Great Hall for lunch. As they met up with their usual group by the entrance, Draco took a step behind Y/N and placed his arms around her shoulders, resting his head on top of hers. Her hands came up to hold his and she leaned back against him. Pansy threw a pointed look Y/N’s way before glancing behind the pair.

“We’re still waiting on Theo and Blaise. They seem to be taking their sweet time today.” she remarked.

“Parkinson, relax. They’ll be here soon, you know how slow they are sometimes.” Draco replied.

“Yeah, or -- more likely -- they got in trouble and they had to stay --”

“And we had to what?” Blaise drawled, strolling up to the group with Theo in tow. Pansy scoffed and they followed her to the Slytherin.

---

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully. After dinner, the Slytherin squad headed to their usual nighttime hangout spot - the boys’ dorm. Pansy crawled into the huge bean bag chair she insisted on storing in their room and Daphne had flung herself at the end of Theo’s bed. Y/N had taken her usual spot on Draco’s bed, lying on her stomach with her head at the end and her feet in the air. Draco was lying sideways on his bed, his head on Y/N’s back and his nose in his phone. There were soft pop tunes playing through the radio by the window.

“I still can’t believe we’re not allowed to have our phones until after dinner. Like what if there was an emergency and I needed to call one of you? It’s irresponsible, is what it is.” Pansy complained, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder. Her thumb was scrolling up and down her phone screen.

“In what scenario would you be in an emergency where you would need to contact us?” Theo asked, raising his eyes over the book he had been sucked into.

“I don’t know, Theodore, but it would give me comfort to know that I could call or text you guys,” she paused and added, “But I’d also like to scroll through Instagram at lunch or when McGonagall bores me to death during class.”

“They still make us use quills and parchment and you expect them to let us use our phones? We’re lucky that they even allow us to have them at all.” Blaise added.

Daphne let out a loud laugh. Pansy rolled her eyes before going back to her scrolling. Draco threw his phone on his bedside table, announcing that he was going to the bathroom. Y/N watched as he walked out of the room. She flipped the pages of her magazine and it was a comfortable silence until Pansy threw herself onto the bed next to her.

“What’s going on with you two?” she asked, putting her hand over the page Y/N was just reading.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Y/N answered, sitting up.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I know you and Draco have always been close, but lately you’ve both been very touchy feely with each other. You know that’s a bad idea, right?”

“Pans, we’re just talking… it’s not like we’re dating. We’re like… pre-dating.”

“That’s the exact problem. You’re not dating. He thinks he can mess with other girls specifically because you’re not exclusive. You’ve seen him do this with other girls. Why are you entertaining this idea? He’s a player. He’s played me, for crying out loud. Do you remember that?”

“As much as I appreciate you caring, I don’t really think it’s any of your business.”

“Y/N, she’s right. You know he’s not the best when it comes to relationships. He’s never even been in a relationship. Be careful.” Theo added, before quickly shifting his eyes back into his book.

“Fine. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Talk about what anymore?” Draco asked, as he walked back into the room.

“Nothing.” Pansy replied, quickly getting off the bed and sitting on the end of Blaise’s.

The platinum haired boy raised an eyebrow, studying Y/N’s face. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. Instead of pressing the matter, Draco chose to ignore it and sunk back into his previous spot on his bed.

---

Y/N awoke in a tangle of dark green satin sheets and an arm draped around her torso. She was lying on her back and Draco’s face was nestled into her neck.Taking a deep breath, she stretched her arms, seemingly waking the boy next to her because a deep groan came from him before he turned so his back was facing her.

“You woke me up.” was all he said as he twisted his body again, onto his stomach.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Prince Draco.” she giggled.

“You should be.”

He grinned at her as her eyes grew wide. In a flash of movement, he was on top of her and giving his best attempt to tickle her. Y/N shrieked and thrashed her legs, trying to kick him off of her. As he moved his hands to her neck, a pillow hit him in the back of his head.

“Oi! You two keep it down, please. It’s three in the morning. People are trying to sleep!” Blaise grumbled from the other side of the room.

“Shove it, Zabini.” Draco replied, throwing the pillow back across the room. He climbed off of the girl beneath him and collapsed in his previous spot. Moonlight shined through the window, illuminating the sharp edges of his jaw and making his hair seem to glow in the darkness of the room. Y/N watched the Adam’s apple in his throat bob as he swallowed.

“I wouldn’t play you, you know.” he whispered, turning to face her.

“Sorry?” she replied.

“I mean… I know what you guys were talking about when I came back into the room earlier. Pansy was telling you that I’m a player… but I would never do that to you. I know what you’ve been through with other guys. I’d never treat you like they did.”

“What about all those other girls though? Pansy?”

“We were never exclusive. I fucked them once or twice and they thought that automatically meant we were an item. With Pansy, we were friends with benefits for awhile and she caught feelings, but I’ve always had my eye on someone else -- someone I want to be serious with.”

“You -- you want to be serious with me?”

“Of course, “ he took her hand in his before continuing. “We’ve known each other for eighteen years, I’d be crazy to not take anything serious with you.”

Y/N was glad for the darkness of the room because she was sure her cheeks were apple red. She’d waited so long to hear those words come from Draco’s mouth. On one hand, she was elated, but on the other, she wasn’t sure that she could entirely trust him on words alone. Actions proved real intent. She lay her head on his chest while his arm came around her. After a few hours and many snores from Draco later, her eyes finally succumbed to darkness.

---

Rain fell from the dark sky that Saturday morning, and if Y/N was smart, she would have taken it as a premonition. Her hand was entangled with Draco’s as they strolled through the halls. They had decided to take a more scenic route that morning, just to get extra alone time. Eventually, they found their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. A few minutes later, the platinum haired boy announced he’d be right back, before planting a kiss on Y/N’s cheek and walking away. As soon as he was outside of the doors, a girl situated herself in his previous spot.

“So, you know how we’re like besties, right?” Josslyn, a Ravenclaw, asked, turning to face Y/N.

“We’re not even friends…” Y/N trailed off, blinking slowly.

“I just figured I should let you know, girl to girl, that Draco isn’t who you think he is.”

“Look, I really don’t think it’s any of your business what --”

“We had sex three nights ago. In the broom closet on the sixth floor.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped as she wracked her brain for words to say to the girl next to her. She should’ve known. How could she have been so stupid?

“If you’ll excuse me…”

She quickly grabbed her bag, abandoning any breakfast she had left. Her stomach was twisting and turning and her brain kept repeating the accusation over and over again. She should have listened to her friends. They had tried to warn her this exact thing would happen again. As she exited the doors of the Great Hall, she came face to face with the boy she thought she could trust.

“You hurt me more than any boy ever has, Draco. I hope it was worth it.”

I was gonna end it here, but decided to give y’all a lil somethin extra

Back at the Slytherin table, Josslyn was sitting with her friends, giggling. Blaise narrowed his eyes as he looked at the girl across the table.

“Pansy, that’s impossible. Draco, Theo, and I snuck out three nights ago to go hang out at the Quidditch Pitch. We were there from midnight to four in the morning and then we all went straight to bed. He was so drunk off his ass that it was a miracle we got him back to the room. As much as Draco has been a player, I don’t think he actually fucked her.”

“So, she’s lying?” Pansy paused as Blaise nodded his confirmation. “Of course she is, little Ravenclaw bitch. I’m going after Y/N. You two deal with the little wench.”

Pansy quickly made her way out of the Great Hall, but not before giving her best death glare to Josslyn and her group of friends. Exiting the doors, she saw Draco sitting against a wall, his legs sprawled out in front of him and he seemed to be picking at a thread on his black shirt. She slid down the wall and sat next to him.

“It was Josslyn, by the way. She told Y/N that you guys had sex in the broom closet three nights ago.” she said after a few moments of silence.

“I’ve never so much as sent a glance her way. She’s always begging me to fuck her like some kind of animal. It’s appalling, to be honest. Go find another loser Ravenclaw. For fucks sake, I wish people would stay out of my business.”

“Are you serious about her, Draco? No games?”

“Yes. She’s the only one I’ve ever wanted in a way that’s more than physical. I wish you’d believe me. I don’t want to play games with her.” Draco growled.

The black haired girl swallowed hard. Taking a deep breath, and trying to let go of the previous grudges she held towards the boy, she put a hand on his shoulder.

“You need to go after her. If you’re serious, you need to go after her and tell her the truth. You need to do it now. I’ll come with you if you want back up. She needs to know the truth, no matter what.”

Draco’s blue eyes met Pansy’s brown ones and he nodded. He pulled himself off the ground, holding out his hand so the girl could get up as well. And then they set off to find the only girl that he wanted to see.

#hp #hp imagines #draco x reader #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco imagines #Draco #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco x y/n #harry potter imagines #malfoy #angst #draco fanfiction #angst draco #imagines

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seijurosempress · 4 years

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@shoichee I hope this meets your expectations✨ (Bc I refuse to tolerate any more bullying today. Also- Matchup under the cut)

First, I just want to say- I’m sorry. (but not really). I know our love for Hayama runs deep but the moment you choose violence with him, that’s it for you. RIP. It was nice knowing you 😔 But, remember when we first spoke and I asked you if you shipped yourself with Imayoshi and you refused to answer my question? Well- [Insert ‘Surprise shawty’ tik tok audio]

Best Match: Imayoshi Shoichi

Your subconscious knew what it was doing when you picked out your URL. The moment you said you related to Dazai and then proceeded to talk about socioeconomic issues revolving around globalization while we simultaneously talked about dumb stuff I knew there were only a few guys that could handle your energy and Imayoshi hands down tops that list

Even though Hanamiya out of all people might say Imayoshi doesn’t have the best personality, I actually think you two can balance each other out and understand each other in a way other people may not be able to

Honestly, right off the bat, y’all will probably bond over some form of teasing. Whether it’s making some remark aimed directly at the other, or one of you takes a jab at someone else and the other happens to overhear, it will be the start of a beautiful relationship

Gemini and Leo’s have really good chemistry so it’s no surprise you’ll manage to get along, regardless of your- argumentative natures.

You two are like the two sides of the same coin. While he presents himself as a kind and easy going person, speaking politely to others- until he inevitable shows them his real personality- you, on the other hand, can come off a little cold and critical, scaring people off when you first meet them even though you’re genuinely kind and easy going once you start to talk to them

If you guys meet purely by chance, maybe you’re in the same class, you’re introduced because of a mutual friend, or because one of you overheard the other, the moment you hear how the other carries themselves in a conversation will automatically peek your interest.

Have you ever seen that meme where they’re like “oh you wanna kiss me so bad”? yea, that’s you two. I can see you getting into the most amusing squabble, just trying to throw the other one off, Imayoshi smirking if and when one of his comments goes right over your head

You’re both pretty smart (I spent a solid hour trying to double check this and still failed but I’m like 80% sure his IQ is pretty up there) so I can see you two meeting because of that too

Scenario:

Imayoshi is just minding his business, checking the updated class rankings posted in the hall across your classroom. Why? He doesn’t know, if he’s being honest. It’s not like anyone could ever surpass him, he’s been at the top of his class each time since his firs- What’s this? He got bumped down? Who the hell are you? Wait no, he knows who you are. He’s heard your name before countless times, mostly followed by your voice as it traveled throughout the hallways, your laugh bubbling out of your small frame soon after in reply to whichever friend had just made a funny remark. Funny. You didn’t seem all that smart at first glance, could he have actually... made a mistake? His gaze flickers to the other side of the hall where he immediately found you, eyes wide and a small smile adorning your features as you listened to your classmate speak. A low hum escapes him as he analyzes your appearance once more. He notices the way your makeup highlighted your already attractive features, the small accessories added to your uniform making you look put together and stylish. Maybe he had underestimated you, he though as he saw you take your turn to speak, your answer leaving your classmate open mouthed with a baffled expression. He felt the slight tug on his lips, the beginning of a small smirk forming on his face as you smiled widely at the response you had gotten. However, the amusement only lasted a split second, his features falling in disbelief when you turned around, tripping over your own feet and falling face first into the open classroom door. “What are you staring at?” Someone, probably Sato, asks as he strolls up beside him. “Nothing” he sighs, adjusting his glasses on his face. Is it really nothing though? a small voice inside him asks just as a series of curse words and noises fall from your lips, eliciting his own to quirk up into an amused, lopsided smile. Even if it is “nothing” for now, don’t be surprised when both of you “coincidentally” find yourselves bumping into each other more often from now on as he tries to figure you out.

I can see him realizing he has feelings for you while you two are hanging out. Maybe you two will be studying after you asked him to tutor you in math since it’s his best subject, or well, attempting to study at least as you’re nearing half an hour of your 5 minute snack break. He’ll probably be doodling in his notebook while you scroll through Instagram, and it’s not until he looks up to see you so focused on whatever was on the other side of the screen, your fingers quickly tapping away as a smile pulled at your lips that he asks what you’re doing. Without a second thought, you absentmindedly tell him about whatever argument you’re getting into in the comments section under a random photo you came across before you’re back to focusing on the matter at hand.

His whole trademark is that he’s good at analyzing people, and as a Gemini, he is not an exception to his own skills. He’ll suddenly come to the realization that, while he enjoys pushing people’s buttons, he enjoys the thought of you two being a team even more. While you can be loud and social, making and laughing at jokes, you also know when to get serious and get stuff done, something that that he would appreciate considering he likes respectful and considerate girls.

The problem now is- he may be aware of his feelings...but are you?

He’ll probably try out multiple ways to hint at his feelings towards you but they’ll just go right over your head. In your mind, you can’t see anyone having any romantic feelings towards you and sure he may be acting a little weird, but you’d probably just shrug it off as it being all in your imagination.

Meanwhile the whole time Imayoshi is just standing there like- Is she serious? No one can be this oblivious???? but yet ✨here you are✨

Now it’s his turn to be frustrated by your conversations because you’re just not getting it? So he decides to try something more straight forward. Girls like pickup lines, right?

He could literally see the moment your brain stopped working. Your face flushed red as a nervous giggle bubbled out of you. All common sense left your body as you made finger guns at him, giving him a slight nod before turning around and walking quickly out the room

it would take you a few minutes to collect yourself, strolling back in the room 30 minutes later, leaning against the same spot you left him moments prior and giving him a pickup line of your own. *queue Imayoshi’s mischievous smirk* “Oh? Is that so?” (he’s such a little shit he’ll probably pretend like he didn’t say anything first to get back at you)

I can see this going back and forth for a while until he finally asks you out on a date, but this time he’ll make sure to do it in a way that will prevent you from escaping and leaving him alone and confused again

Your PDA is most likely kept to a minimum, partly because of your Venus in Virgo and partly because he doesn’t like spontaneity. Your outward relationship will consist of hand holding and pecks but that doesn’t mean your private life remains the same, just because you’re dating now doesn’t mean you’re suddenly immune to his habits or him to yours

You say you want to spend some quality time together? “How about a movie night?” he asks, his smile deceiving you long enough to trap you in his arms as a scary movie plays in his blacked out bedroom. “I don’t like scary movies” you whine, your body pressing into his and a pout pulling at your lips as he “innocently” chuckles, “Oh really? I must have forgotten”

You say you’re a bit cynical about relationships but I think it’s because your Neptune, Pluto and Lilith are ruled by air signs. This means you enjoy spontaneity and creativity in what you do and therefore always gravitate to doing things in which your outcome depends on yourself and not other people. Imayoshi is the kind of person that respects other people’s needs as we can see when he allows Aomine to skip practice if that’s what works for him. This will help you maintain a healthy balance in your relationship, allowing you to be able to feel more at ease and not trapped or like you have to be a certain way with one another

You decide to keep pursuing dancing? He’s proud of you, and will not hesitate to show off and boast about your achievements to the rest of the team

You had a rough week and you want to spend the whole day gaming with headphones on? It’s fine he’ll take the opportunity to relax and go fishing

On the other hand, you want to go shopping? Suddenly he’ll find himself walking hand in hand with you as you and his sister stop at every single store only to leave with more bags that you can carry.

At first, you would insist you could both take care of yourselves at the mall, but he soon found out that you two should not be left alone. She might be his sister but she’s younger and impressionable and she looks up to you? And you can be a bit scatterbrained so you lose track of her time so you always end up bringing her back really late, along with an armful of shopping bags that he’ll only have to go back and return within the week because being hasty runs in his family and his sister didn’t pay much attention to how much money she was spending

Overall- I think that what really makes you a good match is your ability to communicate with one another. Both of you are pretty honest and straightforward (although your executions are vastly different) which will help you navigate through any obstacles in your relationship

You keep each other on your toes and bring fun into your relationship while also settling down, talking about serious stuff and getting genuine advice from one another when you need it the most. The balance you maintain allowing a stable foundation for the relationship to grow and blossom. He did something hasty? It’s okay, you know exactly what to do to fix it. Someone keeps hitting on you insistently? He’s already walked over to intimidate him to go away. You want to spend quality time together but he wants to go fishing? There you are by his side, scribbling in your notebook and reciting your poetry to him as he listens carefully with a small smile on his face that you’ll definitely not tease him about later. You need help with your math again? he’ll tutor you in exchange for you making him a bento with his favorite meal. Until he learns that you somehow burned half the rice and left the other half uncooked. Perfect balance of give and take.

Bonus: Takao Kazunari

You are literally the girl version of Takao omg. (I literally JUST got your message about being the new Takao too smh I know I’m slow but let me finish this first)

You two are so alike and you would make the most chaotic duo but as much as I want to ship you two, I can just see you two being really good friends so I feel the need to include him in this

Midorima would be so done with your shit, he’d probably see you two together and immediately turn around and start walking the other way because he just KNOWS you’re bound to gang up and bully him

The first time you saw is lucky item you probably burst out laughing and thought he was joking until you saw his face flush red

After that, every time you ask about it he just grumbles out his answer, still salty about your initial reaction

Takao never fails to remind you either, trying to hold back his laugh whenever you try to make it up to Midorima but he ends up ignoring you, or you somehow just manage to make it worse

When it’s just you and Takao, you could be minding your business when suddenly one of you makes ONE singular little comment and that just sets off the other, adding onto it until both of you are crying with laughter

Honestly, the only time I can see you taking one another seriously is when you’re having discourse

He’s an optimistic person while you’re a realist which can set off some very interesting discussions between the two of you, your argumentative nature leading both of you to talk about anything and everything as you challenge the other’s ideologies

If you decide to try out a relationship, it’ll be filled with excitement and adrenaline, both of you needing very little persuasion to try out new things

You’ll be his partner in crime and he’ll be yours. You want to mess a bit with your younger neighbors? Why not? You want to go check out the new mall a few town’s over because they have a store you’ve been wanting to check out for months? He’s your man.

While the relationship is fun, you both can get a little ahead of yourselves, going with the flow and getting sucked into your own world; you’ll need someone to ground you

Usually, this role can be plaid by Midorima but it proves to be a bit problematic when he’s nowhere in sight

The amount of times you two have lost track of time or gotten caught up in something because you ran into some friends or even met new people and got lost in conversation, by this point Midorima has probably given up trying to keep track of your whereabouts when you’re together

I wouldn’t be surprised if you two ended up making your own language. He’s good with kids and bad at being quiet while you enjoy making new words and trying out sound effects which he would without a doubt find amusing. You’d probably go as far as to make children believe they’re actual words, could you imagine Midorima’s face when he goes over to Takao’s house and his younger sister starts talking to him in the made up words you taught her

Ultimately while your personalities are very alike, you tend to clash at the wrong points and it would take you working together to compromise to make a romantic relationship work

Both of you surround yourself by others, often finding yourself in the middle of everything, your personality constantly making other people gravitate towards you. This can prove conflicting when you’re together as now you’d have to learn how to share the spotlight, so to say

While you love fashion and makeup and shopping, the poor man just wants to enjoy his trading cards

Although you should use it to your advantage and make him drive you around in Princess Mia’s Midorima’s carriage.

Your might also find yourself more often than not at a crossroads, your realist point of view conflicting with his positivity which can lead to arguments between you two

Overall- a relationship with you would be exciting. There would never be a dull moment and you’d constantly encourage the other to have new experiences and make the most of your time. But moving into a more romantic territory would mean that you’d have to learn how to prioritize things in your life, knowing when to buckle down and get things down and how to successfully come to terms with and work out your differences.

Sidenote: I meant to make these a little longer but my brain cell only has so much KNB knowledge stored in her small little filing cabinet that may or may not be a single folder covered in dust and stuffed in some corner

#matchup request #[🏀].asks #i meant to have this ready early today #but i may or may not have fallen asleep #sorry #i'm slow #it really took me a whole ass week to write #but to be fair #i struggled a bit with your mans #bc I went strictly off what I could gather from the anime #which are CRUMBS

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years

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Home

Four times Tim just wanted to go home, and one time he’s actually there.

( @animemangasoul I think you’ll like this one)

(I was listening to Home by Machine Gun Kelly X Ambassadors & Bebe Rexha while I wrote this. Might have cried a little. I regret nothing)

----.----

His mom is holding his hand, a rare occurrence. Were he in a more… stable state, he’d squeeze the moment for all it’s worth.

But the coldness of fear had his heart in a ice-like grip, and the scenery around them did little to appease him. Nothing, not even the warmth of being held, could keep him from shaking.

-I want to go home -he whispers in his mother’s ear when she picks him up in her arms. Safe against her body, he thinks he can feel his heart melting a bit around the edges where panic had frozen him over.

Mom tightened her hold, eyes leaving the crying kid and his dead parents for the first time in a long time. He feels how one of her hands drops its place under his leg to pat his back, more comforting than he ever thought she capable of.

-Yes, we are leaving now. Jack? Bring the car over, we’ll wait here.

She doesn’t lower him until they are back at the manor. Then, his parents retire to their rooms, both to rest and prepare for their trip to the Bahamas the following morning.

Tim shivers all night long, yearning for the warmth he was too distracted to appreciate a few hours ago, back at the circus.

This wasn't what he meant, when he asked to go home. He just wanted to feel safe.

----.----

This… wasn’t what he expected. To being caught, that is. Specially by his hero.

Jason (Robin, call him Robin, don’t you dare slip up, he can’t know you know!) is looking down at him, hands on his hips. He’s doing his best to look stern, but the short shorts, pixie boots and unconscious thug at his back ruin the effect of his glare.

Tim, camera held tightly as it’s been for the last couple of minute since the man came out of the shadows to try and steal it from him, distractedly thinks Batman should get on that, teach Robin his famous loom. He’s feeling starstruck, more than fearful.

-It’s too late for a squirt like you to be out. Streets are dangerous, no’ne told you? Specially ‘is parts o’the city -the young vigilante drawled, accent thicker than Tim recalled from back at the gala when their parents introduced them in passing. Not that Jason would remember.

-I… I’m not a squirt, I’m ten -he finally blurts out, wishing he could smack himself the second the words leave his mouth.

-Children should be on bed at this time.

He does his best to calm his erratic heart, and canalizes all the sass on his pint sized body to arch an eyebrow- Hypocrite much?

Robin growls, but Tim can tell he’s doing his best to hide a smile.

-I can leave you here, you know.

He knows Jason is bluffing, looking for a reaction, but the mere idea still makes his barely calming heart kick into overdrive again. The scare of a few minutes ago was too fresh on his mind. He already knows he won’t be going out again soon, not until he could plan a new route to photograph his idols while traveling only by rooftop, to best avoid the scum of the city.

-No, wait… please -he moves forward, hand taking a handful of cape, as if that could stop the vigilante if he actually was planning to leave.

Jason took the chance to wrap him on it like a little blanket, picking him up in his arms like a baby.

-Don’t worry, shortstack. I’m taking you home so I can be sure y’er actually following your bedtime.

Feeling a little braver in his hero’s arms, he fired back- Don’t have any.

-Whatever, you lil liar.

-It’s true. You can ask my parents… that’s it, if you’re willing to go into my house for a chat. Masks are in bad taste though, you’ll have to take yours off.

Truthfully, both his parents are away on business. Not that he needed to know about the bluff.

This time, he didn’t bother to hide his amusement, letting his barking laughter come out.

-You little shit. I’m not giving you my secret that easy.

Tim just shrugs, painting his most innocent smile. It’s difficult to keep it in place when Jason asks for directions, and then drops him at his bedroom’s window.

The giddiness of meeting his hero can’t quench his disappointment when he watches Jason’s back as he leaves.

A little, childish part of himself had believed, hoped (with all the innocence his heart had left), that when Jason said ‘take you home’, he was talking about his own.

----.----

He’s training as hard as possible. His body, shaped by the multiple teachers he hired through the years, hurts in a way he never thought possible, and has been like that ever since he first went to the training mats to face Bruce.

He knows the pain is necessary, what he learns there could be the difference between life or death (his eyes never fail to go to Jason’s suit, his altar, where he, as his whorshipper, would always go ask for strength and courage), but it's hard to remember his purpose for being there when he goes to bed each night with aching limbs.

Still, he endures.

This last week has been both harder than any other, and the best he’s ever had. The first, because a full on out gang war had forced him, Dick and Bruce to work overtime, going out every night for twice their usual hours (thank god for spring break). The second, because to save time and strength, he’d been allowed to stay the night at the manor with them.

He can’t believe how nice it is to have breakfast with someone. Sure, they have it at like three pm, but still. The pained body was so, so worth this.

When they caught their last perps, all tied up and pretty for the GCPD, Tim was simultaneously absolutely beat and the happiest he’s been.

Batman puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, saying ‘let’s go home, Robin’, and he thinks for a moment he’s dreaming again.

He actually sleeps a bit, on the Batmobile trip. Beyond tired, feels his body being raised and then lowered again in a soft surface, something warm over his chest, and then lights out again.

When he wakes up the next morning, he’s at Drake Manor. The breakfast table is empty, the hallways colder than he remembered, and he wishes last night had actually been a dream. It would hurt less, if it had been all in his imagination; instead, he has to live with the knowledge of being so close, yet so far.

Not for the first time, he wishes ‘home’ were a different place.

----.----

He sighs, dropping his suitcase uncaringly. Anything important is on his phone anyway, who gives a fuck. Certainly not an overworked seventeen year old kid who’s just getting back after a long day.

The place was clean, spacious and with a modern decoration style he kinda likes. The mechanic fishes certainly give it a nice touch, and the underground nerd cave he built for himself is the cherry on top- bottom, whatever.

It’s a nice house. A place he made for himself, to come back to. With scanners that automatically alert him if some sneaky ninja plants a bug, or a snoopy family member was sniffing around for his toys. He knows everything that happens here, in this little kingdom he built from scratch.

Of course, there are some itty bitty problems with it. Not the layout itself, that one was a dream came true, and no security issue either: all of Ra’s thwarted attempts at having his people breaking in confirmed how tight it was.

But, for some reason, the thermostat didn’t seem to work. It was always way too cold.

The soundproof walls were good at keeping his secrets under wraps, but they also made it seem so unnaturally quiet, it gave him the creeps.

No table in sight. Not that he needed one, he shrugs. Lunch he eats outside, at the office. Dinner is a quick thing, a sandwich while he gets ready for patrol or some other snack while he types away at his computer. Breakfast… he doesn’t know why, but he never feels right when eating it, so he skips it more often than not.

Sighing again, he falls face first into his absurdly pricey couch. Blindly patting the coffee table until he finds the blanket he always keeps there, he thinks about taking a lil nap. He didn’t sleep last night (or the one before that), so it feels like he’s earned this break.

Decision made, Tim takes his phone out of the secret pocket in his coat and selects the app that makes background noise. He always sleeps better with it.

Yeah. This is a nice, comfortable place.

Too bad it’s not home.

-I just want to go home -he whispers to himself before letting unconsciousness claim him.

If asked, he’d said the break in his voice was a yawn and not a sob.

----.----

When he wakes up, it’s to noise all around him. That alone puts him on guard so fast he would have pulled a muscle, if he were anyone else. As a Bat-trained vigilante though, he just tensed before opening his eyes to analyze his surroundings.

This… wasn’t his place, where he distinctly remembers falling asleep, face down on his couch.

This was Titans Tower. Was he losing track of time? Had he been on a fight and got hit on the head?

-Hey, you’re awake -Kon’s head poked out of the kitchen area, smiling as he floated all the way to where Tim was lying, on the living room’s couch.

The sight of his friend was enough to loosen his muscles. Still unsure but immediately comfortable he sat up straight and looked around. He could hear Bart and Cassie bickering on the background, probably the kitchen, Greta’s laughter coming to him from the same place, and those were Anita’s shoes and Cissie’s backpack near the elevator.

The first two and Kon, he could get. They were all Titans. But the three girls? They were retired, so what…

-Hey, boy wonder, let your brain take a break. I can hear you thinking from here and it’s giving me a headache -the super joked, landing by Tim’s side and poking his forehead lightly.

-That’s because you never think, you aren’t used to it -he fires back automatically. Then, a slow blink- What are the girls doing here? What am I doing here? Last thing I remember I was… at the Perch. Sleeping.

-Yeah, and what a deep sleep that was. Been pulling all nighters, haven’t you? -his best friend shook his head, beyond giving Tim a disappointed look. They knew each other way too much to be surprised by their respective bad habits- you didn’t even flinch when I wrapped you up in TTK and flew you here. And about the girls, I told Cassie and Bart I was gonna pick you up, and they decided to make a thing out of this and went to bring them here, just to hang out. Like back in the days, you know?

The mention of their Young Justice times never failed to give Tim a heartache, but this time it just made him feel warm.

He tried to look stern, but the smile he could feel growing on his lips against his will probably ruined it.

-But why did you? Bring me here, I mean.

Kon tilted his head, visibly confused.

-What do you mean? I heard you. You said you wanted to go home.

Something deep and frozen inside him abruptly melted, like it was hit by a flamethrower. The intensity brought tears to his eyes, body shaking uncontrollably as he bent over himself, hands clutching the opposite arm tightly, as if trying to hold himself in one piece.

Kon’s arms were around him in an instant, worried shouts piercing his ears as he plastered the smaller vigilante to his chest, unthinkingly helping him keep his broken pieces together. The warmth from his best friend’s body served as a welder, and Tim could finally breathe without the fear of breaking apart.

-Tim? Fuck, what’s wrong? Are you okay?! Here, dude, I got you.

-Kon? What is i- fuck, what did you do? Hey, Tim!

-Rob? Oh my god he’s crying, why is he crying!

The voices came closer, surrounding him from all directions as multiple hands touched him in an attempt to comfort.

It was too much, too warm, too bright.

He hoped it’d never end.

-I just…

Everyone stopped talking. His voice was broken by sobs, but he sounded happier than they had ever heard him.

-I’m just happy I’m finally home.

#Tim Drake #Young Justice #batfamily #my writting #kon el kent #bart allen #cassie sandsmark #Greta Hayes #Cissie King-Jones #Anita #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Jason todd #NO EDIT #I WROTE THIS IN ONE SITTING I FEEL LIKE I WAS POSSESED YOU GUYS

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tryingtobeclassy · 5 years

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park seonghwa . . . night time rides : part I

part ii.

genre: Seonghwa x female!reader, a bit of San x reader as well, college au, roommate au

description: You always loved taking late night car rides with your friends. But before you know it, they turned into sessions of you whining and them enjoying the drama and trying to offer advice how to win over one of your roommate’s closest friends you were crushing on like an idiot.

word count: 5.2 k

warnings: swearing, alcohol, smoking

. . . . .

Night time rides were something else. Driving around through the dark streets with all the lights flickering around and throwing their warm colours onto their surroundings felt peaceful. It felt like wandering into a different dimension. Where time stops. Where things almost always feel weirdly nostalgic.

Night time rides usually feel like an escape from reality. Yet this time you were in the car not just to escape it but to reach a solution for a problem that has occurred in it.

“Sup, bitch”, your friend Luca greeted as he entered the car and made himself comfortable in the back seat since your other friend Zia already occupied the front spot.

“We have an issue”, you said the second he closed the car and started slowly drifting down the street.

“Obviously”, he commented. “If you pick us up just to drive around with you and maybe stop in a drive-thru in the middle of the night, it always means there’s an issue.”

“Did you embarrass yourself in front of the building receptionist again?” Zia asked half interested half just mindlessly staring outside.

“What? No!”

“Did Hongjoong mess up the laundry and you don’t know how to tell him it’s just not good?”

“No.”

“Did you overcook pasta?”

“What kind of problem even--No! Just listen!” They finally got silent. “It’s about Seonghwa”, you finally managed to say.

Zia immediately seemed a lot more interested in the whole conversation. “Oh! That dude you like?”

“Fuck yes! Tea time”, Luca exclaimed. “I want every last detail.”

. . . . .

earlier that night

It was quite late when you finally made it home. Thanks to a professor being sick you had to have an extra lecture to catch up on the whole curriculum and apparently there were no free classrooms except on a Friday evening. It wasn’t that exhausting if you were being honest but just very boring. And it felt like a waste of time that you could’ve spent doing something fun.

You opened the door to the apartment you shared with your friend Hongjoong hoping to finally get some peace and quiet, maybe watch a movie or something, just to have your dreams immediately crushed as you saw eight men hoarding the small living room.

“y/n, you’re back!” Hongjoong yelled excitedly.

All heads turned around to see you and a loud cheer of greetings filled the room as everyone tried to say hi at the same time.

“Fuck, I didn’t know you’d be having friends over”, you said to him, a subtle whine crawling inside of your voice.

“It was a spontaneous decision.”

“Right.”

“Wanna join?” Wooyoung asked cheerfully. “There’s plenty of drinks left.”

You stood in your spot for a second just sort of squinting at all of them as your brain was going through a bunch of thought processing. You weren’t too tired and despite hoping to have a chill night, some socialising didn’t seem too repulsive to you at that moment either. And you even knew all of the guys already since Hongjoong would often invite them over so extra energy for meeting new people wasn’t exactly required.

“Sure, why not?” you said as you threw your hands giving in to the temptation.

All of them seemed to be very satisfied with your decision as another loud cheer broke out through the room. You grabbed a beer from the kitchen and thanks to Yunho being a sweetheart and moving from the couch onto the floor, you got a decent spot as well.

“So what have you lads been up to?” you asked and took a few sips of your beer tho you weren’t sure if anyone heard you cause the conversation they were having was getting quite intense.

“We’re discussing if ninjas or pirates are better”, Yunho answered making you laugh for a second.

“And it’s getting this serious?” you asked, a huge grin on your face.

“y/n, can you pick a side?” San suddenly yelled. “We’re currently divided in half.”

“Obviously pirates”, you answered without taking another second to even think about it and it made half of the room dramatically gasp. “They literally have ships and cannons. The fuck do ninjas have?”

“Thank you. That’s exactly what I also said”, another voice got involved.

Your eyes automatically turned towards the owner of the voice and they were met with Seonghwa’s. It wasn’t the first time you noticed him that night, but it was the first time an interaction happened between you two and as always your heart decided to skip a beat or two as it always does when Seonghwa gives you only a small fraction of his attention. That’s all that was needed with him.

“Ninjas can be invisible”, Jongho protested through a pout snapping you back to reality.

“I thought this was based on logic”, Yeosang attacked his statement.

And the discussion kept going on. And on. It lasted way longer than you expected. Mingi got super heated at one point and was told to have a time out on the balcony which he barely accepted and was sulking like a small child the whole time. You lost them at the point when they were getting way too detailed about sword fighting - your thoughts just wandering around.

Soon enough your bottle of beer was empty and if you wanted to stay any longer you needed some more alcohol in your blood to endure the amount of bullshit that was being said. The kitchen felt so peaceful, contrasting heavily the mess happening on the other side of the wall. But you couldn’t decide if it was good or bad kind of peaceful.

“Hey”, a sudden voice crept on you out of nowhere making you jump in your spot and yank the fridge door so hard it almost resulted in some glass bottles stashed there breaking.

“Sorry, didn’t want to scare you.”

You turned around and was found face to face with Seonghwa who had a huge dumb smile on his face obviously very amused with how scared he got you and not really all that sorry.

“Do you like levitate an inch from the floor? How are you so quiet?”

He lightly laughed and made his way closer to the fridge and where you were standing.

“What do you want?” you asked opening the fridge again.

He got so close that his chest brushed slightly against your shoulder making you almost twitch at the contact. “I thought it was obvious”, he said with a tone that almost sounded playful but you weren’t sure if it’s just your ears making a fool of you. Still, it made your head suddenly shift towards him. He was standing so close that you could almost feel his body warmth just radiating out of him. Or maybe it was just your body getting hot cause he was. right. there. He never stepped inside of your personal space this much before and you weren’t sure how to react.

“So uh?”, you stuttered for a second. “Another beer?”

He stared at you for a second longer, an expression you couldn’t possibly read, before his lips stretched into a half smile and he moved a few steps back.

“Yes”, he said, this time way quieter. “Another beer.”

. . . . .

“Girl”, Luca yelled once you were done with the whole story of that night. “That’s why you got us out of our beds?”

“You’re driving after drinking?” Zia seemed to be concerned with different problems.

“Yes! That’s why I got you out”, you said as if it was the most obvious thing. “Like I’m so confused. What the hell was that?”

“He was drunk and stood a bit too close to you”, Zia said unamused. “I don’t wanna shit on your party, but I don’t think there’s much to it.”

“But you didn’t feel the tension at that moment.”

“You know I usually believe in vibes and stuff but I’ll have to agree with Zia on this one”, Luca added his own piece of mind. “Do we even know if he’s single or not?”

“We do. I asked Hongjoong once”, you answered through your teeth.

“Oh, so he knows you’re crushing like an idiot on one of his closest friends?” Zia said, sounding very amused.

“I mean, not really. I hope not. I once asked him if any of them are dating to which he got very suspicious asking me which one of them do I like.”

“Smart man”, Zia commented.

“What did you say to that?”

“I said don’t be an idiot, I’m just curious.”

“Can’t believe that passed”, Zia threw another comment.

“Anyway, I think you owe us some fried chicken as a sorry for getting us out at this time of the night”, Luca exclaimed. And that was the last of it.

At least for that night.

Around a week later the gang was back in the car as you said you wanted a chat and a late-night smoothie.

“So anyway”, you started casually trying to start the next topic as smoothly as you were sliding into the next turn. “Remember when we talked about Seonghwa last week?”

“Oh, so that’s why you called”, Zia said flatly.

“It better be good this time”, Luca muttered as he already gave you his whole attention. “I’m all ears, darling.”

. . . . .

the night before

You groaned in frustration as you were trying to figure out a part of the lecture that just wasn’t clicking. After staring at the text for a little longer you finally decided to take a proper break and go feed yourself hoping that would get you some energy that you were seriously lacking. You had to make your way through the living room to reach the kitchen where Hongjoong was hanging out with Seonghwa and Yeosang - drinking beer and just very loudly playing some video games. They didn’t really pay much attention to you as they were too immersed in the game and in a way you were thankful cause you weren’t exactly in your best looking addition.

You grabbed some cereal and soon enough you were seated over the textbook again. Cereal managed to give you enough strength for approximately half an hour before you completely gave up and got out of the room again.

“Yo, Hongjoong, did you see my cigarettes?” you yelled to the couch.

His face didn’t shift an inch but a long mmmmmm got out of his mouth making you know he at least heard the question but whether or not he registered its meaning was a whole other story.

“I think you left them on the balcony.”

You got on the balcony, leaving the loud crashes coming from the tv and excited yelling from the three guys in front of it behind you. Just as he said, the little pack of cancer sticks really was on the table. You always told yourself how you should probably quit it but in moments like these when you were feeling frustrated and rather stressed they offered a sort of comfort. Unhealthy yes. But that would be a future you problem.

The night was chilly but still relaxing. The cold even managed to put your mind a bit more at ease as you just sat there and stared into the tiny street lights scrambled all over the place.

“Hey”, a voice suddenly called and of course, who else could it be, then Seonghwa himself.

You greeted him back and watched as he wobbled to the chair next to you.

“You okay?” you asked through an amused smile.

“Might have drank one beer too many”, he admitted through an almost shy smile that immediately melted your entire heart.

You patted his shoulder. “It happens to the best of us.”

“So what are you doing here? Just chilling?”

You made a short break as you pulled a final smoke and put out the cigarette in a small ashtray on the table next to you.

“Giving my soul a rest for a bit I guess.”

You switched your attention from the ashtray to him. He was silent for a few seconds and you just sat there in dark and silence feeling like you could almost hear your heart beating in your chest. He was sitting quite comfortably, his right hand even laying lazily on the back of your chair, while his eyes sparkled in the night and glanced at you every now and then.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

“I feel like I should ask you that question”, you smiled and motioned over his short sleeved black shirt while you were snuggled up in a hoodie.

You heard him lightly laugh. “I’m fine.”

“Seriously?” you asked surprised, your energy suddenly raising, even jumping slightly in your seat. “But it’s like really cold.”

He suddenly got fired up just like you. “So you are cold!”

You stared blankly at him for a moment almost confused as to what he was trying to achieve before bursting into laughter. “Of course I am. How are you not cold?”

“Why don’t you go inside?”

“Who’s gonna keep your drunk ass company if I go?” you teased, not really sure where the confidence came from.

A soft smile formed on his lips but before he said anything, you grabbed your cigarette pack. “I’m kidding. I just wanna smoke one more”, you added.

“Want me to try and make you warmer?”

You snorted not really expecting much logic from a drunk person. “Sure, mate. If you can do it, that would be wonderful”, and just as you were putting a cigarette between your lips you felt an arm wrapping around your back and for a moment you didn’t feel cold as hotness rushed through your body and straight into your cheeks.

Your first reaction was to just shoot your head towards him and meet his face much closer to yours this time. You felt like time stopped for a second and as if you were the main role in a dramatic romance scene. You were glad it was dark cause you were sure as hell you looked like a tomato at that moment and you were just praying that your heart wasn’t pounding intensely enough to vibrate through your entire body.

“Did it work?” he asked and you would’ve sworn his lips stretched into more of a flirty smile.

“M-more or less”, you barely pushed the words out, the cigarette almost falling out of your mouth.

You tried to get a grip so you turned and finally light up the cigarette but you still felt like your heart’s gonna jump out especially when he lightly pulled you even closer into himself and rubbed your arm as people usually do when they’re cold.

“Very helpful, thanks”, you said trying to sound sarcastic and play it cool and not let him know that you were literally having a mental breakdown.

You wanted the cigarette to last an hour. Two hours. An eternity. You were warm and comfortable in Seonghwa’s arms and despite a simple arm making your entire mind malfunction, you wanted to stay like that as long as possible. But darn cigarettes don’t be lasting longer than a few minutes and you didn’t feel like being too obvious if you stay there for too long.

Once the cigarette burned out, you stood up, gave him another friendly pat on the shoulder. “Don’t freeze out here, idiot”, you smiled and left.

. . . . .

“You left?” Luca screamed at you once the story came to an end. “Girl, that was such a good opportunity!”

“I panicked. I thought I’d come off as too direct if I stayed.”

Luca opened his mouth to say something but words didn’t come out while Zia just very loudly slapped her forehead in slight frustration.

“How do you intend on getting anywhere if you constantly keep your distance?” she asked you.

“Well…” you tried to think of something smart but no thoughts were formed that would either be logical or satisfy Zia.

“Also why is he low key creepy when he’s drunk?” Luca interrupted.

“Because the author can’t write guys flirting if her life depended on it.”

“What?” he asked confused.

“What?” you glanced at him.

“You just said-“

“Forget it”, you made a dramatic sigh. “I don’t need you guys to tell me I’m a wreck every time I have any kind of interaction with him. I’m aware of that myself. I need advice. That’s why we’re in the car.”

“The therapy patrol”, Zia joked.

“Vroom vroom advice van”, Luca laughed.

“I’ll drop you both in the middle of the street.”

“Okay, fuck, relax.”

“I think if you had tried something, it would’ve been just fine”, Zia said looking like she’s finally trying to think of a proper piece of advice she could offer. “Just stop thinking so much about it.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Mhm. I’ll try I guess.”

The Seonghwa conversation was done for that night. But it wasn’t long until it got brought up again a few nights later. You had a few days to think about what to do. To try and give yourself a pep talk to be more confident the next time you get any kind of chance with Seonghwa. So when you picked them both up after midnight – all three of you already in pyjamas – it was time for updates.

“I know it’s late. But I felt like my mind would explode if I didn’t share this as soon as possible.”

“It better be fucking good”, Zia complained while still blinking trying to push the sleep away.

. . . . .

earlier that night

It was once again a chilly night. Not too cold but you could still feel some icy feeling crawling under your skin. You still couldn’t believe you got yourself in the situation you were in. You just wanted to go to the nearest supermarket to grab some cigarettes but the trip you expected to go on alone turned out to be with Seonghwa. The moment you announced to the living room full of children in men’s bodies that you’re going, Hongjoong jumped to his feet and asked if you could buy some stuff they needed. You complained it was too much too carry. He exposed you of just being lazy to carry stuff. You said that’s stupid. And Seonghwa offered to go with you. And you definitely couldn’t complaint about that.

The two of you made some small chat over college. You complained about exams and all the deadlines and crap you had going on the last few weeks. The frustration over college managed to shift your thoughts a bit away from all the screaming your body was doing because of the situation it was put in. It made your heart stop beating like a maniac for a second.

His company felt comfortable. As if you were at home, wrapped in a warm blanket. It was easy to talk to him. Words just flowing naturally between you two. A few laughs bursting out here and there. He was always so sweet and gentle. And it made you fall for him more and more each time. You felt like you could rely on him. Even now. While balancing on a thin line between an acquaintance, just a person you knew through your roommate, and a friend. You weren’t quite sure what to call him. But whatever it was right now, you were greedy for more. You wanted more of him for yourself.

The shopping was done in a few minutes. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and some snacks to have another fun night with the boys and you acquired your cancer sticks. You lit one as you were walking down the street back to the apartment.

“How come you smoke?” he asked you.

For a second a wave of embarrassment washed over you. You never thought about the possibility of him not liking that and finding it as a huge turn off. But in his voice there was more curiosity than judgment like you expected.

“I only smoke during exams”, you said, feeling as if you came off way more defensive than you’d wanted. “They help a bit with all the stress.”

“I get that.”

“If you mind the smoke, I can throw it away.”

“Don’t worry about it. Half the people around me smoke as well.”

You glanced at him for a second, an eyebrow slightly raised. “Did you ever smoke?”

His lips formed into an almost awkward smile. “I did for a bit.”

“So what’s the secret of quitting?” you asked as you nudged his hand with your elbow.

“I liked a girl who hated smokers so I quit. And it kind of stayed like that even after nothing happened with her.”

You nodded your head as a short response while your mind was just thinking about way too much. “I don’t think that would be helpful for me but we’ll see. At least exams are almost over.”

You felt like you could’ve dropped in a little hint that you might’ve liked him. Zia and Luca would be proud to hear that you finally did something to push this into some kind of direction. Yet you did nothing.

You got to the building. For some reason you usually kept quiet inside. The echo and the thin walls made you feel as if the entire building is listening to your conversations so you preferred to keep it to yourself. Seonghwa didn’t seem to mind the silence. It surrounded you most of the time as you waited for the elevator and the first few seconds as you were in it. But suddenly your heart started racing again like a super car as Seonghwa leaned on the handle that went around the entire inside of the little elevator cabinet, his hand gripping the handle behind your back slightly brushing against your clothes.

He was close. Again. And you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“This might sound odd – but do I ever make you feel uncomfortable?” he suddenly asked. His hand moving from its spot but he still remained really close to you.

“What? Why would you get that idea?” you asked genuinely surprised with the question.

“I don’t know. You always seem kind of nervous when we talk. You’re not like that when you’re with the other guys.”

Oh. Oh. He noticed that. Does he pay that much attention to you?

You shifted your body a bit facing him now completely. “You’re the sweetest soul I know. I could never feel uncomfortable”, you said, a comforting smile forming on your lips.

He immediately responded with a smile as well. A smile as sweet as the best candy out there. “Thanks”, he said through a soft laugh.

The same silence wrapped around you two again. It felt as if it was pushing the two of you together. As if the space between your bodies grew smaller. You looked him into his dark warm eyes. You were glad there was a handle you could hold on to cause you felt as if your legs were turning to jelly. His gaze shortly fell away from your eyes before he made contact again and you would’ve sworn he looked at your lips. Only a few inches were separating you that you could almost feel his breath on your cheeks. Yet a few inches that felt like an entire ocean just shutting down closer. And closer.

And then the door opened and you were violently thrown back into reality. Both of you awkwardly shifted in your spots and exited the elevator. Some random chatter was thrown around again until you entered the apartment and your paths split.

. . . . .

“That’s it?!” Zia exclaimed. Now fully woken up.

“Why didn’t you stay with them? Things were obviously going in the right direction”, Luca asked, his cheeks red as he was obviously agitated.

“It was a boys night. I don’t wanna intrude that as a female.”

“You’re a dumbass”, Zia said slowly.

You purposely slammed the brakes a bit too harshly, making both of them get yanked forward. “What was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, how about KISS HIM”, Zia yelled back at you.

“There wasn’t a good situation.”

“If you had the balls you would’ve stopped him before he entered the apartment. From your story he was obviously into it.”

“Well we all know that I don’t have balls”, you said a bit too confidently.

Luca laughed for a second. “At least we all agree on one thing.”

“I swear to god, if there is no kissing action the next time you get us in this goddamn car, I’m rioting.”

“Fine.”

You took her words seriously. So despite wanting to go on another ride here and there, there weren’t any juicy updates that could satisfy their thirst for the drama in your life.

But it also wasn’t long until all three of you were seated in your usual spots again. You hoped but something in you also expected there could be some actual kissing finally involved soon. It was a rainy night. Luca was swearing something under his breath as he entered the car.

“There’s a situation”, you said almost nervously as you slowly made your way down the street.

There was a suspicious eyebrow raise that came from Zia while Luca excitedly clapped his hands. “Spill the tea, sis.”

. . . . .

the night before

It was another normal night. Miraculously you didn’t have anything to study but you didn’t feel like leaving your room either. You were perfectly fine with your blanket and laptop just chilling over some YouTube. Hongjoong had some of the guys over again. They weren’t making too much noise so you suspected they were probably watching a movie. You didn’t crawl out of you lair the entire night until Hongjoong knocked on your door and told you there’s some leftover pizza if you’re interested.

Wooyoung was almost shocked when he saw you walking towards the kitchen. “Yo, y/n! I didn’t even know you were home. You could’ve come and say hi.”

You waved your hand towards him as if trying to say hi and disappeared in the kitchen. There was a solid amount left but you weren’t in a mood for more than one slice. You sat on the counter next to the pizza box and began your feast. It would’ve been a wonderful moment shared between just you and your perfect slice of pepperoni pizza but San decided to insert himself into that peaceful moment.

A devilish smile formed on his lips. You never knew what that guy had on his mind. He was always radiating with confidence and something about him always seemed attractive and almost slightly dangerous. He often flirted with you when he’d have a chance but as the guys would say, he flirts with pretty much anyone, so you didn’t think much of it.

“How come a lady like you is stuck eating pizza all alone on a counter?” he asked, a spark in his eyes as he watched you.

“This lady was too lazy for a plate to take the pizza to her room”, you answered with your face stuffed.

You gulped down that last bite and reached for a napkin to wipe off any potential pizza grease left. You followed San with your gaze but gave him only half of your brain to think about him casually throwing away a can of beer before he suddenly walked towards you. You were sitting on the counter with your legs spread out which left a lot of space into which San just walked into, the next second being only a few inches away from you making you lean back in surprise.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to grab a shot glass”, he said apologetically as he opened the cabinet over your head and took out a small glass.

You expected that would be the end of it. He would get out of your personal little bubble and you wouldn’t have an entire body between your legs anymore. But he stayed there a second too long. That intense gaze of his staring at you.

“You don’t seem to be that sorry”, you joked once you noticed his lips curled up into a smile.

“You got me”, he laughed and paused for a second before he continued. “How could I be sorry to stand so close to someone so pretty.”

There he was again with the blatant flirts. It wasn’t anything new. Yet it felt completely different. You never had that feeling of something cooking in your gut before. That feeling that would then just spread over your body as a wave of heat.

You felt like you should’ve pushed him and just go before things get out of control. But your body wasn’t listening. You couldn’t make yourself do it. You weren’t sure if he moved forward but the gap between you felt smaller. His hands laying on both sides of your body on the counter.

And then it happened. You felt his soft lips touch yours. It lasted just a second before he moved back a bit, his eyes fixated on your own again. It was as if he was checking your reaction. If you wanted to move, now was the moment. Things already went into a direction you never wanted. You could’ve prevented it if you just got up in time yet you were still there. Still not moving.

His lips crashed against yours again. You didn’t even realize that you closed your eyes and responded back with the kiss until you felt his lips stretching into a slight smile. His hands wandered off the counter and around your waist pulling you closer into himself while your own hands found their way into his hair. You didn’t even think about what was happening. Your head went completely blank. You just knew you enjoyed it.

The kiss finally broke off and the two of you parted away gasping for air once the kitchen door was suddenly opened again. Your hands slid out of San’s hair and onto his chest pushing him slightly away to see who has intruded. Perhaps if anyone else but Seonghwa stood there the situation would’ve ended up differently. Maybe if it was Hongjoong you would’ve just went back to mindlessly kissing San. But it was Seonghwa. With an expression you never saw on his face before and that you couldn’t possibly read. One thing you knew for sure, it wasn’t an expression showing a positive emotion.

“Tell me when you two lovebirds are done so I can get myself a beer”, he said flatly and slammed the door behind him.

You could see San’s eyebrows slightly furrow as he eyed the door but before you let him do anything else, you pushed him gently away and jumped off the counter as you continuously mouthed shit under your breath. You didn’t give him a chance to say anything and you didn’t say anything. You just vanished towards your room. A million thoughts exploding in your mind. Anger filling your stomach. Anger at yourself at being a complete fucking idiot and letting yourself get into this situation.

48 notes · View notes

forestwater87 · 5 years

Link

I detested most stuff and I still do

You see, I hate everything but you

“God, this is lame.”

“Aw come on, Max!” David, attracted like a bloodhound to the slightest hint of negativity, flocked to Max and gave him his most winning grin. (David rarely won anything, especially with that stupid smile.) “This is a very special experience for you campers!”

Max rolled his eyes. “A shitty waterpark in the middle of nowhere, full of screaming kids. It’s a dream come true.”

“Well, maybe if you went in the water you’d feel better! I could hold your sweatsh --”

“Touch it and die, camp man.”

“Seriously, Max,” Gwen said, coming up behind David with her arms already crossed in what she probably thought was an intimidating pose. Would probably be scarier if she wasn’t constantly trailing behind David like a duckling with an attitude problem. “This stupid trip cost us money we don’t have, so you better not ruin it.”

“Even if I wanted to run away, where would I go?” He threw his arms out to the side, making a dramatic show of looking around. “This place is more isolated and run-down than most Saw traps. Pretty sure I’ll die of tetanus just walking around.”

David looked like he wanted to say something inspiring (and dumb), but something over Max’s shoulder snagged his attention. “Mr. Campbell! Put those ‘No Running’ signs back!”

As the counselors ran off -- well, David ran; Max was pretty sure Gwen wouldn’t run unless a serial killer was chasing her -- he let his disinterested mask turn into an actual, evil-villain smile.

He’d only said he wouldn’t run away, after all. There were lots of things he could fuck up besides trying to escape.

He just needed his partners in crime . . .

“Max!” Right on time. He had a split second to brace himself before Nikki collided into his back, looping an arm around his neck and nearly dragging them both to the pockmarked cement. “This place is awesome! There are water guns attached to poles and I sprayed Preston in the face!”

“Amazing, Nik,” he replied, shrugging her off and readjusting his hoodie. “You really can find the bright side to even the shittiest things.”

Neil trotted up to them, already a little out of breath and wiping the sweat from his hairline. Max pulled an inhaler refill out of his hoodie pocket, but he waved it away and said, “I don’t think we can steal the guns. Not without a screwdriver, and I’m pretty sure I left mine in the tent.”

Nikki had already moved on. “The vending machine over there is broken! Neil and I got twelve packets of Cracker Jacks!”

“Do you even like Cracker Jacks?” he asked. Weren’t those just packing peanuts covered in caramel?

“I don’t know!” She tore a package open with her teeth and tossed the entire thing into her mouth. “Not really!”

Neil grimaced. “Jesus, Nikki, at least finish chewing --”

“Catch!” Nikki had already ripped into another packet and tossed a handful of Cracker Jacks in his face.

While Neil was spluttering and wiping peanuts off his face, Max said, “So what percentage of the water here d’ya think is pee? I wanna make sure I really emphasize the health code violations in my letter home. Maybe Mom and Dad will be so pissed off they sue the camp.”

(Not that they would; he was convinced his parents had learned English mostly by watching family sitcoms and cheesy coming-of-age movies, and they were convinced that garbage heaps like Camp Campbell “built character” and were part of the “true American experience.” No amount of common sense would get through to them. They were parents -- so, basically hopeless.)

Neil gave the pool a slightly nauseated look before shaking it off and turning back to him. “Even you have to admit this is a little fun.”

“I really don’t think I do.” He swept his arm up and over his head in a wide semicircle. “It’s a beautiful sunny day, everyone’s enjoying themselves, there’s some weird hipster shit playing over this place’s one broken loudspeaker. It’s picturesque. Disgusting .”

Nikki cocked her head to the side, listening to the tinny music crackling through the air like it was being played through a tin can. (And by a tin can. It sounded like a pile of tin cans in a clothes dryer that was also somehow tin cans.) “I kinda like it.”

“There’s a mandolin in this song. You know where mandolins belong? At Ren Faires and Scottish funerals.” Probably. He didn’t know much about Scottish funerals -- or what “Ren Faires” were beyond that Nerris liked them, and she seemed like the kind of weirdo who’d listen to tiny guitars -- but he doubted Neil or Nikki did either, so he was fairly confident he could get away with saying it.

His friends exchanged a look, one that set Max’s teeth on edge. “You’re doing it again,” Nikki said.

“Doing what?”

“Hating things,” Neil replied.

That wasn’t what Max had been expecting. “I mean . . . yeah,” he finally said, shaking his head. “It’s kinda my brand.”

“I know.” Nikki started chewing on the tip of one of her pigtails, the hair muffling her words. “And usually I like causing mischief, but it’s hot and I wanna go on the water slides!”

“She’s right,” Neil added, and Max began to feel like he was in some sort of intervention. “I know this place isn’t the best --”

“I’d rather be in Super Guantanamo.”

“-- but is it really more fun to just stand around being pissed off at everything?”

“Obviously.” The response was automatic, but the question actually threw him for a second.

Complaining was fun. He and Neil could spend an entire Saturday trading complaints and insults about the camp, their parents, even the weather if they were really running low on things that sucked. Max considered himself a champion at bitching about things, but Neil’s super-geek brain was so good at plucking out faults in even the most awesome things and somehow making these observations both stupidly obvious and even funny -- in his dry, “not entirely sure he’s actually joking” way.

And ruining things was fun: Nikki had the worst, impossiblest, batshit-craziest ideas, and buried in all that weirdness were some of the best pranks he’d ever pulled. Even when Max couldn’t shut her down on a bullshit scheme, it was fun watching his friends use science and Nikki-ness to make it work -- and fail, usually. It was even more fun when they were actually able to pull something off that shouldn’t have been possible (usually with his help and great insights; he was the best at causing mayhem and always would be) . . .

The look on Neil’s face when his jerry-rigged hamster ball actually allowed them to roll around the camp without popping on anything, even Nurf’s knives, was priceless. And so was Nikki’s war cry that sounded like an Indian from one of those old racist Westerns, which she reserved for explosions big enough to singe off their eyebrows.

But they didn’t want to do anything like that today. They wanted to just . . . what, enjoy themselves? In this pathetic soon-to-be-abandoned-and-bankrupt pile of junk?

And he was supposed to just go along with that?

Why the fuck would he?

They could hang out without him, they did it all the time. When he was busy . . .

Hating things, usually.

“Okay, fine,” he finally said, letting out a long, beleaguered sigh like they were being too annoying for words. (What? Sometimes being dramatic was fun too.) “I’ll do things your way for an hour. And if it still sucks, we break something. Like David’s legs.”

He wasn’t surprised by the way either of them smiled; after the entire summer he’d gotten very used to both of them. Nikki’s grin, so wide it was almost scary, with a tooth that got chipped during Fighting Camp and another one she lost a few weeks ago (then immediately swallowed to see if the tooth fairy would come into her stomach after it), the way she tilted her head like an excited puppy: same angle, same direction, every single time. Neil’s tiny, shy of his barely-crooked teeth, the way his gaze would land somewhere in the vicinity of Max’s face but never actually his eyes -- forehead, nose, for some reason his left ear (but never the right) -- before flicking down to stare at his dorky T-Rex hands, which he’d twist together until every finger-joint cracked, this teeny little divot in his right cheek that only showed up when he laughed, too small to even put a pinky in.

Max hated people smiling, especially smiling at him . But he didn’t totally mind with Neil or Nikki; they were his best friends, maybe his only friends. It’d be weird if they were frowning at him all the time.

“Come on then, sourpiss!” Nikki cried, taking one of his hands and gesturing for Neil to grab the other.

“Sour puss ,” he corrected, his fingers briefly settling on Max’s wrist, elbow, and forearm before closing tight around a handful of his sleeve.

Max let himself be dragged forward, wincing at the sticky caramel still on Nikki’s hand. “I’m not gonna run away,” he whined, scuffing his toes along the ground before remembering that he liked these sneakers. “You don’t have to --”

“Our way,” she reminded him, breaking into a half-skip, half-run that left Max and Neil stumbling to keep up. “Oooh, look! Flowers!”

“We aren’t seriously stopping and smelling flowers right now, are we?” Max demanded, almost overcome by the lameness of it.

Neil just shrugged, ducking away from a bee that zoomed out of the nearest one. “Our way, Max.”

He sighed and breathed in a lungful of pollen. “Yeah, yeah,” he managed between coughs. “But just for an hour.”

“It’s gonna be a rose, but like . . . a black one. With thorns. And it’ll say ‘Too Cool’ underneath. Maybe in the vines or something.”

“Wow, Ered!” Nikki said, leaning against the rickety wooden railing that was keeping them from falling off the long line up to the tallest slide. “Your dads will let you do that when you’re sixteen?”

She tossed her hair. “Totally.” She turned to Max and Neil. “You gonna get a tattoo?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna get ‘None of your fucking business’ on my forehead.”

Nikki pouted, shooting Ered an apologetic look. “Max, our way!”

“It’s been way over an hour,” he said. His hair and sweatshirt -- which he still refused to take off, though he did dump everything inside into David’s backpack -- were soaked and beginning to steam under the sun, and he pulled his hood over his eyes and rested his head on Neil’s shoulder. “Wake me up when we get to the top.”

His friends were quiet, Ered having turned her attention to a surprisingly impassioned conversation with Nerris over the benefits of each class in DnD. After a moment Nikki said, “Well, the hour is over.”

“And he’s still here.” Neil smelled like sunscreen and chlorine, and his skin was burning warm like the sunburn he would inevitably still get. As a strong breeze shook the wooden tower they were standing on, a chill caused Max to lean more heavily into him for warmth and wind-blocking. (Not snuggling. Not even in the same neighborhood as snuggling.) “Better than I’d expected.”

He could hear Nikki’s smile. “Me too!” They shuffled forward, ignoring the alarming creak of the wood beneath them. “He’s a good friend, deep down.”

“Ehh, very deep down, I guess.”

“Oh yeah. Like, in his toes or something.”

“You know I can still hear you, right?” Max said without opening his eyes.

“Absolutely,” Neil replied.

“We were counting on it!” Nikki added brightly.

“Max!” They’d reached a bend in the line, and he realized with horror, opening his eyes, that they’d come into view of David, who was apparently accompanying Space Kid. Birds of an annoying, friendless feather . “I’m so happy to see you’re enjoying yourself! Isn’t it great having fun off the grid like this?” David’s voice was sincere, a little bit tearful, but with an underlying I told you so that made his blood boil.

Max turned to Nikki and Neil, who understood what he was thinking from his expression. “We’re not letting him get away with that, right?” he muttered.

“Of course not,” Neil said immediately, and Nikki nodded.

“Slide first, though,” she said, as though they were going to just leap off the side of the tower or something. (Which, considering her, couldn’t be ruled out.)

Max grinned, giving in to the oppressive sunshine and shrugging out of his hoodie. “Slide first,” he agreed. “Then we’re doing things my way.”

#campcamp #camp camp roosterteeth #cc max #cc nikki #cc neil #makkiel #well sorta #in my heart it is #but also they're children so there's no real romance at all #but i love them #and i fucking LOVE THIS SONG AND IT IS SO MAX #forestwriting #just lots of fluff #oppressive amounts of fluff

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takenbyemrys · 5 years

Link

Chapter 1/10

Main pairing: Peter Parker/Harley Keener

“Mr. Stark!” Peter called as he exited the private elevator into the penthouse. “FRIDAY where’s Mr. Stark?”

“Welcome back MiniBoss. BigBoss is currently in lab 34. He wished that you meet him as soon as you arrived.” FRIDAY answered in her usual Irish lilt. Peter rolled his eyes at the nickname.

“Thank you FRIDAY. Can you tell him I’ll be right there? I’m going to get a snack first.” Peter tossed his backpack on the couch and made a beeline for the kitchen.

“Of course. BigBoss also has M&Ms on him as well.” The AI said.

“Sweet, cheetos and M&Ms.” Peter mumbled happily under his breath, grabbing one of the many bags on family sized chips. He skipped to the main elevator and thanks FRIDAY as she took him to the proper floor. By the time the elevator had gone from the 93rd floor to the 34th, Peter had already made his way through half of the bag. When the elevator doors opened, Peter immediately heard the sound of muffled arguing. Anyone without super senses wouldn’t have been able to hear it. He waved to a handful of scientists through the glass windows that he knew from this floor, but he kept going toward the sounds of arguing. The door to the lab was shut and locked, but FRIDAY opened it with a simple announcement to the occupants. Tony, Bruce and another man that Peter had never met were arguing in front of two large screens crammed full of calculations. Tony nodded to him, but didn’t say anything, just watched as Peter studied the equations.

“I’m just saying that there is no way that this is a combination that can work. The math just doesn’t add up, no matter how much it should. I think we should move on to another element.” The man was telling Bruce. Bruce shook his head and also kept an eye on Peter, whose eyes were moving back and forth rapidly taking in the equation.

“There is no way that this element shouldn’t work. Something must be wrong with the calculations.” Tony retorted.

“There is no way that my-”

“Those coefficients are wrong.” Peter said abruptly.

“What?” Tony asked, a look of surprise crossing his face. The man whirled on Peter with his jaw dropping.

“The equation right in the middle there,” Peter gestured to the board before placing his cheetos on a table. He strode up to the board and picked up the pen. He carefully erased the coefficient numbers of four elements before writing new ones in. He made quick work of fixing the rest of the equation. “FRI please double check.”

“The element is a perfect match. MiniBoss’ math is correct.” FRIDAY announced. Peter swore she sounded smug. He turned back to Tony who automatically tossed him the bag of M&Ms. The scientist moved closer to Peter, inspecting the work he did. Peter immediately scurried away, coming to stand next to Tony. Bruce was turned to Peter, hiding a grin behind his hand. The scientist turned back, stunned.

“Well, I guess that solves our problem.” Tony chuckled and openly grinning at Peter.

“Who…?” The man started.

“Oh crap, sorry. Peter this is Dr.Dylan.” Tony said, still focused on Peter. Dr.Dylan stood up a bit straighter, sensing the power balance change.

“Lovely to meet you,” Dr. Dylan said formally. He didn’t offer his hand, but most people didn’t when Tony was involved. Still didn’t do people handing him things, and that included hands.

“And you!” Peter said brightly. “What’s the project?”

“Oh well,” Dr. Dylan looked at Tony. There was no way this kid was allowed to know, regardless of the fact that he’d strolled in with fucking cheetos. When Tony didn’t say anything, Dr. Dylan launched into the explanation of his project. Peter followed him back toward the board and occasionally asked questions. Bruce took the empty spot next to Tony.

“Either we’re getting old, or…” He stared.

“Or that kids really fucking smart.” Tony grinned. “I got another one coming for the summer too. I have some big stuff and I want the two of them on it.”

“And?” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“And…” Tony grumbled, his head bent and voice low enough for Peter not to hear. “I would like the two current heirs of my company to know each other, just in case.” Bruce’s eyes widened.

“Holy shit.” He said.

“I honestly think that their two brains could create something amazing.” Tony shrugged.

“Who is the other one?” Bruce asked.

“Kid i met in Tennessee after my house blew up, you remember? What was this five years ago? He’s seventeen now, but when he was twelve he helped fix my suit. I just hope they get along.” Tony explained. He looked back over and saw the mildly starstruck look in Dr.Dylan’s eyes. “Welp, there goes another one.” Bruce looked up and chuckled.

“They just can’t seem to resist him, and I have no doubt the other one will either. It’ll be fine. I have to go back to my own project. I’ll be on 83 if you need me. Peter, whenever you have a minute this weekend, can i get your opinion on some things?” Bruce said loudly, halting the conversation.

“Yeah of course Bruce. I’ll stop by.” Peter grinned at the man.

“Us too, kid.” Tony nodded to the doctor and strolled out the door. Peter bid goodbye and scrambled after him. Bruce sighed and rolled up the blueprints he had brought down.

“Who, who was that?” Dr. Dylan asked.

“Didn’t you hear FRIDAY? That was MiniBoss. Peter Parker is technically an intern in the company, but really it’s just a formality because he can’ts legally work here yet.” Bruce shrugged.

“Wait that was Peter Parker? Holy crap. I heard the rumors. Is it true that he’s being groomed to take over eventually?” Dr.Dylan pressed. Bruce shot him a look.

“You know that’s not any of your concern.” He said sternly. “Good luck. I’ll expect now that you’ve shown Peter what you’re doing, he’ll be down to check on it’s progress.” Bruce left without another word.

“How was school?” Tony asked when they were in the elevator. Peter was back to rummaging in the cheetos, so it took a minute to answer. Peter shrugged, not wanting to talk about the impending SI field trip, even if he wasn’t going on it.

“The usual.” He replied. Tony raised an unimpressed eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“On Monday I have a new intern starting. Well, he is going to be pretty much solely working with you actually. So he’s kind of like your intern but, not actually.”

“Mr.Stark, you’re rambling.” It was Peter’s turn for the raising of the eyebrow.

“Well, shut up. And christ kid. Call me Tony. Anyway. He’s about your age, and i want you two working on projects together, so just… be around on Monday so I can introduce you. I want you two to share your lab if you’re amicable.” Peter chuckled but nodded. If he was amicable, lord that was funny. “He’s going to be around a while, and I know it’s a secret, but you can tell him you’re Spiderman. He’ll honestly probably figure it out, but I can do my best to keep him in the dark if you prefer?” Peter’s eyebrows jumped in surprise.

“I take it he’s living in the tower?” Tony nodded. “Then there’s no way to keep it a secret anyway. If you think he’s trustworthy enough it’s fine.”

“What projects are you working on?” Tony internally sighed in relief.

“I have upgrades i want to do to my web shooters, the widow bites, and Buck asked if I could look at his arm.” Peter listed.

“His vibranium arm made by Shuri?” Tony asked.

“It’s not like he can hop a flight to Wakanda. And Shuri and i are going to video chat.” Peter explained.

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Tony grumbled.

“Also, I have projects i want to check up on down stairs.”

“Okay, well let me know if you need help or it’s too much. Also you’re on food duty tonight, and please god no more Thai!” The elevator had stopped on floor 89, where Tony’s personal lab was. He ruffled Peter’s hair and stepped out. “Where you gonna be?”

“I’ll be in my lab or downstairs. Too much to do this weekend.” Peter shrugged. Tony nodded.

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone, but for the love of god check in once in a while. And sleep, or Pepper and May will kill me!” Tony yelled as the doors closed. Peter smirked as FRIDAY brought him back to the penthouse. Pepper was sitting at the dining room table, browsing some files.

“Hey Pep,” Peter greeted. Pepper smiled and opened one of her arms. Peter slid in and gave her a gentle hug. Sometimes he still didn’t really know his own strength.

“How was school?” Pepper put down her file and completely focused on him. Peter slid into a chair and groaned.

“Absolutely awful. There’s apparently a field trip on Monday and Tuesday, and I’m so not going.” Peter complained.

“And why is that?” Pepper asked.

“Well someone approved a big school sleepover at Stark Industries.” Peter accused. Pepper’s eyes widened.

“Oh no, that was Midtown.” She gasped.

“Yeah, well it’d be stupid to go, so May said i could just come here on my own.” Peter shrugged.

“Isn’t May out of town until Thursday? Peter where are you staying?” Pepper asked, ever the worrier. Her eyebrows pinched together. She noticed when Peter started rubbing his wrists, indicating he was nervous.

“Well, I didn’t want to bother anyone. So I figured I’d just stay home? I mean I’m sixteen.” Peter shrugged. Pepper rolled her eyes.

“You’re staying here. At least then i can make sure you eat.” Pepper teased. “And about this field trip…”

“What?” Peter asked slowly.

“Well it’s Monday and Tuesday. And I might have told Ellen that you might be willing to help the higher up areas as well as the intern stuff that happens on Tuesday?” Pepper smiled graciously. “Please Peter, you know how much she could use the help.”

“Well, it would get everyone to actually leave me alone for once. Plus that other kid is coming on Monday, so he can help on Tuesday for the ‘bonding’ that Tony obviously wants to happen.” Peter snickered.

“Are they still teasing you Peter?” Pepper sighed. “I know you don’t want me involved, but I should be involving the school.” Peter waved her away.

“Pep, I really don’t care. They are the literal last people I seek any kind of approval from, so while it’s pretty annoying, mostly because of the super hearing, I don’t care.” Pepper smiled. There was honestly almost nothing better they spent their money on than a literal team on psychiatrists. Each avenger had a personal therapist and it was working wonders around the building.

“And as for Harley, I think… well I think that Tony has no idea what he’s doing there.” Pepper smirked.

“And what do you mean by that?” Peter asked, scandalized.

“Well, lets just say, he thinks you two are going to meet one way, and i have a good bet going with Nat that says otherwise.” Pepper brought her finger to her lips and winked. “Alright, go have fun for four days. I want to see you at this table with me every night by the way, and FRI will be telling me if you sleep.” Peter rolled his eyes.

“Okay IronMom, whatever you say.” He kissed her on the cheek, grabbed his backpack, and dashed for the elevator. Pepper smiled and turned back to her reports.

“IronMom.” She chuckled to herself.

Peter took the elevator down to floor 87, that was entirely made up of his personal lab. He still couldn’t quite get over that one, but hey. When it opened for him, he saw that Bucky was already waiting for him with Natasha.

“Мать Паук,” Peter greeted easily. (Mother Spider)

“маленький паук,” Natasha enveloped Peter in a great hug. (Little Spider)

“Hey Pete,” Bucky was already up on the table.

“I heard you have Monday and Tuesday off.” Nat smirked. Peter’s spider sense immediately went off. He sent her a heatless glare.

“And?”

“And, I want family day. All day Monday.” Nat batted her lashes at him. He knew she was up to something, but honestly he didn’t care. It would give him an excuse to stay away from any labs on Monday.

“Fine, but Bucky has to referee this time. Clint is shit at it.” Peter stuck out his hand.

“Fucking cold blooded.” Nat grinned and took the little spiders hand in agreement. Bucky just rolled his eyes.

Peter spent the weekend exactly how he said he would. He expected to chat with Shuri for a long time, and he was right. Even after the two hours he worked on Bucky’s arm, Peter still kept her on the line as he started upgrading his new web shooter. Shuri, with surprising approval from T’Challa, had sent him an early birthday present in the form of raw vibranium. He was slowly starting to add it to his suit.

When he went to check on everyone else’s projects, Natasha joined him. Peter knew she didn’t want him to know, but he could tell it worried her when he went alone. While she knew he could handle himself, she still worried over her little spider constantly. It had taken a lot of the scientists and interns a long time to get used to the both of them, but now there wasn’t a floor where a couple people didn’t greet him and wave him over for his opinion.

He dutifully ate dinner with Pepper Friday and Saturday, but she had an emergency overnight business trip Sunday morning. Peter told himself he was fine when he got a notification from FRIDAY telling him that Pepper had ordered food for him. He really didn’t see Tony all weekend, but that wasn’t necessarily uncommon. After they had gotten a closer familial relationship, Peter had started doing his own projects and visiting the other labs. Tony had thoroughly encouraged this, and that’s when he was granted his own lab.

Monday morning arrived and he groaned when his alarm went off.

“FRI what time is it?” He groaned.

“It is 5 am, MiniBoss.” Her volume was considerably lower than normal, for which Peter was grateful. It always took his senses a minute to adjust in the morning.

“Why? Just why FRI?” He whined.

“Ms.Romanoff informed me of family day in training room 4 at 6:30am.” Peter glared at the ceiling, but rolled off the bed.

“Tell her I’ll be there.” He sighed and went searching for his gym clothes.

Chapter 2

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #harley keener #harleypeter #Peterharley #parkener #Peter and Harley #marvel #marvel fanfic #parley

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danijimenezv · 6 years

Text

The Intention is What Counts

Prompt/Summary: “You know, I am so romantic. Sometimes I think I should just marry myself.”

Pairing: Clint Barton x reader

Warnings: Like, two swear words maybe. A lot of bad luck.

Word Count: 3024 words

A/N: This is for @buckyofthemyscira 5K Disney Challenge. Feedback would be really appreciated!

Mornings in the Avengers Tower were usually quiet; Steve usually went out to run with Sam, Tony and Bruce spent most of their time in the lab, and the rest of the members either slept in or stayed chilling in their rooms. Natasha was usually the latter, unless she felt like doing something else.

That morning, she exited her room to look for breakfast, but frowned in confusion when she heard a conmotion in the kitchen. Though, Natasha smiled as soon as her brain registered the scene she had just walked in. Clint was with his back to her, whistling a melody while he cooked something, a frying pan lying forgotten on the floor, which was probably the guilty of the previous noise. It was rare to see him up so early, but Nat had a fair idea about why. Clint took a sip from his cup of coffee before arranging the food on a plate.

“I hope you’re planning to share that.”

He turned around to face his best friend, chuckling under his breath, “Sorry, Nat, not this time.”

“You’re cooking for Y/N?”

“Yes.” his eyes lit up in excitement, “Today’s our three-year anniversary.”

“Uh, Clint–” Nat frowned, but Clint continued obliviously.

“And breakfast in bed is just the first thing in the list.”

“There’s a list?”

“Of course. I have the whole day planned out, with a lot of small surprises for Y/N. And then, drum roll please…” he stopped for dramatic effect, causing Nat to roll her eyes playfully, “To finish this special day, I made a reservation in her favorite restaurant.”

“The fancy Italian about two blocks away?”

“That one.”

“Wow.” she chuckled, deciding not to burst his bubble with the reality, she would let the whole day play out, “I’m sure Y/N will love it.”

“She will.” Clint stated confidently, “You know, I am so romantic. Sometimes I think I should just marry myself.”

“You might as well, Romeo.” she couldn’t contain herself, “I’m pretty sure you need a partner in bed for your breakfast plan to work.”

“Don’t touch it.” he scolded Nat when she tried to snatch a toast from the plate, “And I do have a partner in bed. I left her sleeping in.”

“Better check again, Barton.” Natasha sing-songed, “Last I saw her, she was all ready and leaving the tower.”

“What?” Clint’s blue eyes widened.

“Go check your room if you don’t believe me. She already left.” she shrugged and grabbed the tray of food, “I’ll take this, thank you.”

Clint hung his head in defeat as his best friend skipped out of the kitchen with the tray. He decided then to check the room he shared with his girlfriend, just to see if what Natasha said checked out or not. If Natasha was wrong and he had to cook everything again…!

However, once he reached the room, he noticed the bed neatly made, and no sign of any living person in it. He sighed deeply, running a hand through the blond strands of hair, before going back to the kitchen. In his rush to get back, he spilled a bit of coffee, but he didn’t seem to care. He left his cup of coffee on the counter, wiped his hand to get rid of the liquid and grabbed his phone, dialling the too familiar number. It rang four times before she finally picked up.

“Hi, babe.”

“Hi, Y/N.” he smiled automatically at the sound of her voice, “Where did you go?”

“I’m on my way to work, like every day.” she answered slowly, confused as to why he would even have to ask.

“Why did you leave the Tower like that?”

“I’m sorry.” Y/N apologized, “If you were up early I figured you had something important to do, and something came up at work, so I really had to get going.”

“It’s fine.” he dismissed with a sigh, “I was just hoping to see you before you had to leave, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.” Y/N promised.

“I’ll hold you to that.” he grinned shyly, “Have a good day at work, babe.”

“Thanks, Clint. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The call disconnected, and Clint sighed once again, though he decided not to dwell too much on it; Y/N was gone, and Natasha was already taking advantage of the breakfast, so there was no point. He only could hope the rest of the surprises he had planned went well. Looking down at the counter, he finally noticed where he had placed the cup of coffee. As the liquid trickled down one side of the cup from where he had spilled it, a paper-like material stopped it from spreading over the surface.

“Ah, crap.” he muttered, taking it off the now ruined picture of Y/N and him. Why hadn’t he put it in the frame as soon as he had it printed, it was beyond him.

After putting it in the sink and throwing away the photo, Clint stomped like an angry child and went to the living room, where Natasha was lounging casually on the couch, with the tray of breakfast on her lap. The sight of it only reminded Clint of his earlier misfortunes, making him glare at her as if it was actually her fault.

“It’s 8 am, Clint.” Nat rolled her eyes, practically reading his mind without having to look up at him, “Not everything is lost.”

“You mean yet.” he snapped in annoyance, “Why is everything going wrong? For once in my life, I had everything carefully planned, and it’s all going to hell.”

“I think that’s the problem. You planned it too much.”

“I was trying to do something romantic for our anniversary.”

“You know, today’s not really your anni–” she tried, but Clint continued whining without paying much attention to what she had to say.

“It’s a special day, and I wanted to prove it to her, but I can’t seem to get anything right.”

“Barton.” Natasha stopped him, “First of all, calm down.”

“I am calm.”

“No, you’re not. Second of all, are you really gonna let that small incident ruin your whole day?”

“I also ruined the picture I was planning to frame as a gift.”

“You can print it again.” she offered, “Everything has a solution, so stop bitching about what happened.”

“You know what? You’re right, I won’t.” Clint nodded decisively, “Besides, it’s our anniversary. Nothing can ruin that.”

“That’s the spirit. Now, show me the rest of the list.”

A few hours later, after distracting himself from his failed romantic morning, Clint exited the training room with renewed energies. His talk with Nat had really lifted his spirits once again, and he was feeling hopeful the rest of his surprises would work out perfectly and Y/N would love them. As he skipped through the halls, Nat noticed where he was heading, knowing what he was about to do, and gave him a thumbs up in encouragement, before going back to her own stuff.

It was almost noon, so it was about time to continue with his master plan.

“Y/N, babe.” Clint greeted overly excited, causing a giggle to burst from Y/N as she picked up the phone call.

“Hi, Clint.” she chuckled, and he could picture her shaking her head in amusement perfectly, even if he couldn’t see her, “Just a quick question, are you drunk? Or high?”

“I’m not even gonna be offended.”

“It’s a serious question, sweetheart.”

“Don’t worry, I’m totally healthy right now.”

“I don’t believe you.” Y/N answered back.

“Your lack of faith in me is insulting.”

“But I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt for now.”

“Thank you.” he smiled, “So… did you get them? Tell me you did and tell me that’s why you’re in a great mood right now.”

“Hey, I’m always in a great mood.” she complained.

“Y/N.” he deadpanned, his mood dropping considerably as he feared the worst.

“I got… what, exactly?”

“Please tell me you’re messing with me.” he pleaded.

“Clint, I’m sorry, babe, but I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You didn’t get the flowers?”

“What flowers?”

“Your favorite! I asked to have them specifically delivered to you at work!”

“Sorry.” she mumbled, “I haven’t gotten anything.”

“Jesus Christ, this can’t be happening.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Clint brushed it off, but with each passing second, he was losing it, “It was nothing.”

“The intention is what counts.” Y/N comforted him, “Just, for the record, I know I would’ve loved it, so thank you.”

Clint smiled, this time less excitedly than before, but tried to dismiss it. After all, he didn’t want to make his girlfriend feel guilty or bad for something that wasn’t her fault at all. He had planned a great day for her, and that was what she was gonna get, even if he had to change a few plans and improvise.

“Y/N, uh…” he hesitated as he continued, “Are you free right now?”

“I can get off work for a while. Why? Do you need anything?”

“I was just thinking…”

“What did you have in mind, Hawkeye?” her interest was officially picked, and he could hear it clear in her voice.

“We could go for a picnic to Central Park or somewhere else. We haven’t done that in a while.”

“It’s been years since we’ve had a picnic. Actually, I think we haven’t had one, like, since our third date or something like that.”

“Yeah, I thought it would be nice, you know?”

“It would, but, Clint, sweetheart… have you seen the sky today?”

“The sky? What about it?”

As if on cue, a loud thunder sounded and heavy rain started to fall. Clint shut his eyes closed and cursed loudly.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” he yelled, “What did I do to deserve this?!”

“I’m sorry.” his girlfriend’s voice sounded sympathetic once again, “We can have a picnic this weekend. No big deal.”

“It won’t be the same.” he muttered bitterly, but thankfully, she didn’t hear what he had just said.

“Hey, it’s fine, Clint.” she tried to calm him, “Yeah, it would’ve been nice, but it’s not the end of the world.”

“I know, I know.”

“Tell you what.” Y/N commented, “I’ll get lunch here at work, but we can do something for dinner. Deal?”

“Deal.” he gave up.

“Look, I gotta go, but I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Sure. You get off at 6, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

“You’re the best.” Y/N hung up without another word, leaving him to sulk.

“Of all days, why today?!” he huffed, throwing his phone to the side, which landed on a couch.

Unbeknown to him, Natasha and Wanda had been there to watch the whole thing, and, even if they only heard one side of the conversation, they could imagine what had happened. Natasha had told Wanda everything that had happened so far, but at the moment they didn’t know how to help Clint. He had been really excited about the whole day and his plans.

Suddenly, an idea popped up in Wanda’s mind, and she rushed excitedly to join Clint.

“Clint, I have an idea.”

“Not in the mood, Wanda. Sorry.”

“No, idiot. I’m talking about Y/N.”

“What about Y/N?”

“I know what you can do to make it up to her, for whatever other plan didn’t work now.”

“What?”

“There’s a bakery a few blocks away. You could order something for her and have it delivered to her workplace.”

A huge grin overtook Clint’s face, and he hugged the girl tightly, “Wanda, you’re a genius! Thank you!”

He didn’t let her say anything else, before he rushed out of there to get a look at what he could order for Y/N.

“Y/N, there’s an order for you.”

She looked up from what she was doing, in time to notice one of her coworkers, and close friend, smiling kindly at her, with a small, white paper bag in one of her hands. It had the logo of a nearby bakery.

“Thanks, Ellie.”

Y/N got up from her desk and walked to her, and took the bag from her hand. A sweet smell immediately filled her nostrils, and she impatiently opened the bag. There was a plastic box inside, with a slice of what appeared to be chocolate and caramel cake, along with a spoon for it and a card.

“This is from Clint.” she informed her friend, after reading the note, “It’s so sweet of him.”

“Okay, first the flowers and now the chocolate cake?”

“The flowers never came.”

“But he still tried.” Ellie reasoned, “Okay, what did he do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Flowers and dessert?” she smirked, “Obviously he must’ve done something and now he’s regretting it and asking for your forgiveness.”

“He hasn’t, Ellie.” Y/N shrugged, “It’s not like we had a fight or anything. Not that I’m aware of, at least.”

“So why is he doing all this?”

“I’m as lost as you.”

“Well, make the most of it, because it’s not every day you get dessert while we’re in this hell hole.”

“Shut up, our boss might hear you.”

“Relax, Y/N.” she waved her hand in dismissal, “But really, enjoy it while it lasts.”

“I assume you’re staying because you want a bite of this?” Y/N pointed to the cake.

“Well, duh. It looks amazing.”

With a soft giggle, Y/N opened the plastic and got the spoon. She took a mouthful of the cake, the sweetness of the chocolate exploding in her tongue immediately, though, she frowned as she recognized another taste, and it wasn’t exactly caramel.

“Ellie.” she handed her friend the rest of the cake, “You can have it all, but I’m gonna have to ask you a favor.”

“What is it?”

“I’m gonna need to call me an ambulance, and then call Clint to meet me in the hospital, please.” she said, as calm as she could, but she could already feel her heartbeat speeding up.

“What? Why?!”

“Because that’s a chocolate and peanut butter cake.” she informed dreadfully, “And I’m allergic to peanuts.”

Clint ran as fast as he could through the hospital halls as soon as he got there. The moment he had received the call from Y/N’s friend, he knew he had screwed up. Y/N and him had been together for three years, how could he not remember that she was allergic to peanuts? Well, if he had actually read what the dessert was, he would’ve known, but he was so desperate to get it that he only saw the pictures of the cake when he ordered it.

He was so busy with his own thoughts that he almost collided with a pacient that was coming out of one of the rooms, accompanied by a nurse.

“Woah, easy there.” Y/N chuckled, stopping him, “Hi, Clint.”

“Y/N.” he pulled her in a crushing hug as he was filled with worry once again, and then pulled away to examine her closely, “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Does it hurt? Can you breathe? Do you–”

“Clint.” she interrupted, “I’m fine.”

“It was just a severe allergic reaction.” the nurse mentioned, “But she called in time, so it was nothing serious.”

“Thank God. I’m so so so sorry.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Look at me, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but you could’ve been hurt, you could’ve died.”

“Relax, babe. I’m big enough to know how to deal with my allergy.”

“I’m still sorry. I swear didn’t know it had peanut butter.”

“I told you I’m okay.” she turned to the nurse, “I’m free to go now, right?”

“Yes, darling. You’re okay to go now, but don’t hesitate to come back if anything else happens.”

“Thank you so much.”

The nurse walked away from them, smiling at their interaction. Once she was gone, Y/N threw her arms around his neck, pulling Clint closer to her. He rested his forehead on hers, while his arms snaked around her waist, holding her against him.

“What am I going to do with you, Clinton?”

“I’m sorry.” he repeated.

“Shut up.” she leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on his lips, “You can make it up to me by taking me to dinner. I’m starving.”

Clint pulled away with a guilty look on his face, making her raise an eyebrow in suspicion.

“About that…” he breathed out, “I made a reservation at your favorite Italian restaurant, but… I called earlier, and they say there’s no reservation under my name. I’m sorry.”

“Clint, I don’t need it to be at that restaurant. Just having dinner with you is perfect for me. Thanks for the gesture, but really, we can go anywhere else. It’s fine by me.”

“I know, but still.”

“Okay.” she stopped him, completely decided to get some answers out of him, “It’s not that I don’t love what you’re doing for me. Or what you tried to do.” Clint chuckled softly at her acclaration, “But what’s going on with you today? Why are you doing all this?”

“You really don’t know?”

“I love you, but sometimes I don’t understand how your mind works.”

Clint frowned, looking deeply into her eyes, “Y/N, it’s our three year anniversary.”

“Uh, no, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, sweetheart. That’s next week.”

“What?” Clint took a step away, staring at her in pure shock, “But last year–”

“Last year we celebrated it early because you had to leave on a mission, remember?”

Suddenly, it all came rushing to Clint’s mind, and he gasped in disbelief, causing loud peals of laughter to escape past Y/N’s lips. His cheeks heated up slightly in embarrassment as his girlfriend continued laughing and shaking her head.

“You’re hopeless, Barton.” she joked.

“If our anniversary is next week…” Clint continued, ignoring her previous sentence, “That means… I still have a week to make it perfect!”

“Hey, hey, wait.” Y/N called, already picturing the disaster and chaos that could mean, “Maybe this time we can plan it together, so I don’t end up in the hospital, yeah?”

“Fine.” he groaned, but accepted her deal, knowing he would be nowhere without Y/N in his life.

Tags: @buckyofthemyscira, @thinkwritexpress-official, @missflashgeek, @sebbytrash, @captainrogerss, @a-little-hell-to-raise, @percywinchester27, @buckysberrie, @docharleythegeekqueen, @becs-bunker, @jadalecki-jackles, @scarlettsoldier

#sams5kdisneycelebration #marvel fic #clint barton x reader #clint x reader #writing challenge #dani writes

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feynites · 6 years

Text

Scum Villain AU

Welp, fell down a rabbit hole of translations for novels written by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu, and my brain would not let go of the idea for a Scum Villain sharkbait AU. I blame @pyrrhy also for being a fantastic enabler.

So, this is a thing now! But first, on Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System, the general synopsis is that a book reviewer dies suddenly with his last thoughts being of how unsatisfied he was with the harem/stallion novel he just finished reading. He finds himself subsequently transported into the body of a minor ‘scum’ villain from said book, with the task of fixing/improving the story. Of course, the character he’s currently been cast as was, in the original novel, dismembered and killed by the protagonist.

In the interests of not having that happen, our intrepid hero immediately starts trying to suck up to the protagonist. He does a good job. In fact he does such a good job that the protagonist ends up falling in love with him, and therein lies the core of the story’s shenanigans.

If you wanna read the translations, it’s ongoing here at bc novels. For other works by the same author, there’s Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (Mo Dao Zu Shi, which also has an animated series) over here at Exiled Rebels Scanlations, and Heaven’s Official Blessing is being translated here at Sakhyulations. Translating is hard work so if you read and enjoy any of ‘em, it’s nice to consider donating to the sites, too!

Some of the above stories definitely fall into problematic pitfalls of the slash genre, though. While I am a big fan of the pacing and storytelling Mo Xiang Tong Xiu pulls off and love her characters, I’ve been forewarned on some issues too. As I’m still reading my way through I can’t give my personal assessment on a lot of that stuff or offer more in-depth warnings for everything. But it should probably be mentioned.

Warnings For This Fic in Particular: At the outset of our story, Uthvir is underage. No romance is gonna take place while they are, but when they meet Thenvunin is an 18 year-old posing as their teacher, and Uthvir is 15. This is a slow burn. I also follow the original plot points of the story pretty closely but change up the order/direction of some things, too.

Additional Notes: In the original novel, the story that the lead character gets sucked into is a fantasy/cultivation novel hybrid with elements from a whole thwack of other genres, too. I’m leaning more heavily into the fantasy stuff because I don’t have much experience with cultivation novels, just for reference, but it should be noted that a lot of the story elements draw expressly from Chinese culture and I can take no credit for them - just in case anyone who’s totally new to these genres reads along. Also, I took some liberty with the names of things, because just throwing in Chinese words seemed unfitting and I’m not following the entire script on world-building elements. (Plus, in the novel, the story’s author is notoriously bad at naming things anyway.)

Alright, my apologies for the huge stack of notes/explanations! Please enjoy reading. The characters Calain and Jhe’andal (not seen in this chapter but bound to appear later) belong to @pyrrhy, who’s graciously loaned them to me so I can mess around.

“Stupid author, stupid novel!”

Thenvunin was not entirely surprised that those ended up being the last words he uttered in life. Though he is rather regretful about it. But at the time, processing the sudden failure of his ongoing health treatments had been harder than just fixating on the fact that, probably, the last book he was ever going to read in his life had been that terrible trainwreck of a harem fantasy novel.

That popular disaster of a book, ‘Immortal Demon Way’. With records broken on copies sold, but most critics more or less agreeing that it was mindless dreck. Except, the problem was, it wasn’t really ‘mindless’ dreck. There had been parts that were really promising. That was the real tragedy of the entire mess. The story had plenty of interesting side-characters and concepts, some intriguing world-building, even the promise of genuinely engaging content. But all of it had been tethered to a truly terrible main plotline. A black hole of a plot that managed to be boring and offensive by turns, even if the protagonist did manage to come across as somewhat compelling once in a blue moon.

Because ‘Immortal Demon Way’ was pure self-indulgent trash. The leading character, Uthvir, was one of those characters whose tragic life led them onto a dark path of retribution and conquest. Despite being pure-hearted in their youth, the constant mistreatment from people around them eventually blackened their heart, until they were the sort of person who wear a friendly smile while torturing a man to death. And naturally, over the course of the story, they managed to accumulate a truly massive harem, all filled with beautiful women. Even though the author - writing under an anonymous pen name of ‘Half-Demon Prince’, had come out and said that the character wasn’t exclusively attracted to women - that claim never manifested in the actual text. Which made the whole gesture feel quite performative.

Honestly, Thenvunin probably would have never picked up the book if he didn’t need to review it for the site he worked for. He’d never been fond of harem works, where the hero collects love interests like they’re filling up a basket of flowers. It had less to do with the numbers involved, and more to do with the sheer fact that more love interests usually meant less development on any particular relationship. Plus, inevitably, there would be scheming plotlines within the harem, and Thenvunin had never liked reading about women causing one another to miscarry or murdering each other’s babies to try and keep ahead in ranking. Luckily, ‘Immortal Demon Way’ hadn’t included a lot of such content, and what was there had been easy to skip. Enough so that Thenvunin had found himself speed-reading most of the ‘romantic’ parts. A sure sign of failure, given that romance was his actual preferred genre.

But yes, all in all, ‘Immortal Demon Way’ was one of those stories he would have been happy not to think about ever again. And instead, it had ended up being his last thought in life.

Well…

In his old life, at any rate.

But somehow, after he had died, he had found himself hearing an odd robot voice in his mind. Sort of like one of those automatic screen-readers.

W. ..what…?

“...What’s going on?” Thenvunin had asked.

The obvious question, really. He had felt panicked, or rather, like he should be panicked, but also like everything he could feel was very far away. Shock? He’d gone into shock before. It was a similar sensation, but not exact. But then again, there could be a lot of variables with that sort of thing. Everywhere around him just looked blurry, and pale. As if he was standing in a very modern office and wearing smudged glasses. He wondered if he’d survived after all, and if this latest disaster in his health had damaged his eyes so badly.

It was a chilling thought. Or, it should have been.

World? What world?

“I don’t understand,” Thenvunin said. “Am I in the hospital? Where’s my mother?”

That last question was perhaps more embarrassing than he would have liked, but it didn’t seem as if he was feeling embarrassment too keenly, either. And his mother always came whenever he was hospitalized. Thenvunin was only eighteen, and had been sick all of his life. Naturally, his mother worried a great deal about him, and the hospital staff knew to inform her whenever he had a serious incident.

Deceased…?

Thenvunin reeled, and even with his current level of detachment, struggled to process it all. He tried asking the “system” more questions, but none of them seemed to garner satisfactory answers. Asking who had created it didn’t get him anywhere. Nor did asking how it knew anything about him. Asking what this whole ‘Immortal Demon Way’ project was just prompt a repeat of the ‘story goals’ - it sounded like he was being moved into a story in order to fix it? Like a sort of virtual reality?

He had a great deal of trouble processing the whole concept.

But then, there didn’t seem to be anything for him to do but accept it in the end, either. It could all be a trick, but, Thenvunin did remember dying. Or something that felt close enough to it that he couldn’t bring himself to take that risk. He was afraid of dying; afraid enough that he could feel it, even as he drifted in that strange ‘waiting room’.

It was a feeling that followed him as he woke up in another strange room. But this time it was one he could see. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he felt like he had a terrible headache. The room around him definitely wasn’t a hospital, however. As he sat up, he could see sunlight streaming through several beautiful, open windows. The air smelled fresh, like the mountains he had visited once, before his father left. He sits up to find himself laid out in a comfortable bed, with a clothe on his brow, and a very light but comfortable robe on his body. The pale green fabric is the same colour as his eyes, but he only stares at it for a moment before his attention is arrested by something else.

His body.

Which is… definitely not his body.

There’s a curtain of long, wavy hair falling down past his shoulders. His chest is broad and… chiseled? How could he possibly have a chiseled chest? And his arms are muscular, and long, and utterly devoid of the scars he had gotten from his car crash eight months ago, when he had tried to drive himself to the hospital and veered into a lamppost instead. Thenvunin is almost too shocked to move, but after a moment, he finds himself hurriedly pushing back the blankets and looking at the rest.

His legs - !

His legs look… they look good! Moreover, as he moves, he’s startled to realize that he doesn’t feel any pain. None at all, apart from his headache. Under other circumstances he would assume he was on some heavy painkillers, but obviously, this might not even be the case? He moves his legs and marvels at the ease of it, swivels his hips and feels nothing, and after a minute he cannot help but leap out of bed and begin jumping around, amazed and entranced…

…And more than a little disconcerted. This body is totally, completely different from his own. He looks down at it and intellectually knows that he’s inside of it, but it scarcely feels that way. After a few minutes of either celebrating or panicking, or possibly both, Thenvunin finally locates a full-body mirror next to a dressing station in one corner of the room.

He stares uncomprehendingly at himself.

His eyes are the same, and his hair is the same - if somewhat longer, he thinks - and there’s a certain congruity between his facial features. But the man staring back at him is undeniably, completely different. He looks both strong and elegant, somehow. More muscular than Thenvunin would have ever idealized himself as, but the strength in those muscles is making him feel slightly giddy as he moves. And he’s tall. He’s not stooping over in the least, not struggling to keep his shoulders straight, feeling no pain from his surprisingly trim waistline…

It can’t be him!

He’s still trying to reconcile the idea when he realizes he has no clue who this character is, either. From the system, he gathered that he was going to be transported into an existing character’s body. But there are a few who might match the description of this one, and even more who were mostly undescribed. The only thing he knows for certain is that he is not Uthvir; they would not be so tall.

Right?

System, who am I supposed to be?

He freezes in place, at the sound of the response which he can somehow tell is purely in his own mind.

Did the system just call him a virgin…?

How would it know?!

Although it seemed to know everything. Thenvunin paused in embarrassment, before the rest of the message finally registered. His character is Thenevunin Thenerassan…?

Wait, ‘Thenerassan’? That villain? The corrupt instructor who was always taking time to abuse and harass Uthvir, when they were still young and full of hope for the future? He’d never even realized the character had a first name! Though admittedly, he hadn’t read all of the author’s shared notes and ‘tidbits’ on social media. For a moment he is thoroughly offended. How dare this horrible character share his name!

And then he remembers.

Thenerassan…

Thenerassan dies in this story!

And not peacefully, oh no. After years of abusing Uthvir and then finally betraying them utterly at the grand tournament, the hero comes back seeking vengeance, with their heart blackened and ruthless. They utterly decimate Thenerassan’s reputation, until there is no one on earth who would pity him, and eventually end up taking him prisoner. Then they cut off his limbs, one by one, and blind him, and use their demonic blood to torture him until he can finally take no more and expires.

And Thenvunin himself had once visited the story’s forums to express disappointment that this character wasn’t castrated, too. Considering everything he had done.

He feels faint, going white as a sheet while he stares in the mirror. So consumed with terror that he doesn’t even hear the door to the room opening.

“Brother?” an unfamiliar voice calls.

Thenvunin whips his head around, and freezes in place. A new kind of fear gripping him, as he looks at this unfamiliar person. Presumably a character in the story. For half a heartbeat, he’s almost afraid that it’s Uthvir, come to drag him off for torture and death. But then his mind catches up with him. No, this is… that wouldn’t be right. This place, based on the descriptions, must be Thenerassan’s chambers on Quiet Peak temple. The author of ‘Immortal Demon Way’ had only very loosely followed the structure of a ‘cultivation’ novel, taking grand liberties with the various stages and processes of most established works. The Peaks, as he recalled, were little more than supernatural stomping grounds; like elite clubs for people who had attained immortality through cultivating their internal energies, and becoming incredible fighters.

If he is at Quiet Peak, then he mustn’t be at a point in the story where this character has been ruined, yet. But that’s only one relief; he still finds himself looking at a concerned face he doesn’t recognize.

“...Yes?” he finally ventures.

The stranger comes into the room. He is a man. Handsome. Long dark hair, pretty brown eyes, middle-dark complexion. He could be any number of a dozen characters, really, but Thenvunin supposes he could narrow it down to the ones populating Quiet Peak. It was an early part of the story, so one he remembers fairly well.

Before he can latch onto a guess, though, the stranger pauses and gives him an assessing look.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks. “Your disciples said you collapsed out of nowhere on the practice fields. Compassion took a look at you but couldn’t see any problem, either with your health or internal mystic energies. She advised that we let you rest…”

“Ah,” Thenvunin says. “Um. Well. Yes, I… fainted.”

The stranger raises an eyebrow.

“You fainted? Have you been neglecting yourself in some way, brother?” he asks. He seems cordial enough, which further limits the possibilities for who he could be. Dark hair, brown eyes, friendly enough to check in on the unlikable Thenerassan’s health…

“...Venavismi?” he ventures.

The man blinks.

“Yes?” he asks.

Oh thank goodness.

“I. Um. I seem to be… not feeling well…” he says. It feels like an odd thing to say, since technically speaking, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so well before in his life. He almost jumps out of his skin when he hears a soft ‘bing’ inside his head, though.

<Warning: Impending Out of Character Behaviour Alert. Current Participant has OOC Restriction Locks still in place. OOC Restriction Locks can be removed once Achievement: Character Development has been obtained.>

Thenvunin freezes in place again.

What?

What are OOC Restriction Locks?!

Meaning… if he behaves out of character, he’ll be penalized?

But Thenerassan is a monster! Thenvunin can’t act like that. It would be beyond the pale! And besides, how can he possibly change anything in this story if he has to act like an amoral reprobate the entire time? No, wait. There was more, wasn’t there?

What’s ‘Achievement: Character Development’?

What?! How am I supposed to do that, I’m nothing like that wretch!

Thenvunin is still in the process of thinking furiously in his mind when Venavismi seems to decide that he must be rattled. He’s accustomed enough to being handled by nurses that being steered back towards his bed barely registers in his mind, until he finds himself being settled onto the mattress again.

“...more rest, brother,” Venavismi is saying, genially. He seems to be about as nice as the impression his character gave off, in the story. Thenvunin always felt rather badly about his death. Which… he suddenly recalls, was Thenerassan’s fault. Retaliating in a fury after the accusations against him had landed, he had killed the first people who attempted to apprehend him, only for Uthvir to swoop in and put a stop to him. One of them had been Venavismi. Decapitated, as he recalls…

He feels an inexplicable rush of shame. Not that he’s responsible for Thenerassan’s actions, but, well…

“Thank you,” he says. “You are a very upright person, Venavismi, even if you can make terrible jokes sometimes.”

What? Just for saying ‘thank you’?!

<Character: Thenerassan would not thank Venavismi without ulterior motive. -5 Deduction. Character: Thenerassan would not compliment Venavismi without ulterior motive. -5 Deduction. Character: Thenerassan would also not display weakness in front of a potential rival. -5 Deduction. Deductions reduced by 50% due to mitigating factor: Plausible Disorientation.>

Internally, Thenvunin fumes. Plausible?! He is most certainly disoriented, of course he is!

But Venavismi does look very surprised.

“Um. Thank you, brother…?” he ventures. “I think I had better get another healer to attend to you. Do you remember hitting your head on anything when you collapsed?”

“Of course not, I don’t even remember collapsing!” Thenvunin snaps, flustered and unhappy with having lost points. Even though he doesn’t know what the points mean. He lets Venavismi bow his way out of the room, the atmosphere awkward and disconcerting, and then finally just drops his head into his hands.

What do all these points even mean, System?

…Yes. Yes, I would, if that will explain this whole confusing mess!

<Beginner’s Tips have been activated! Additional Mode: Character File Recognition has also been activated. New characters will now appear with their names provided by the system, in the event that Character: Thenerassan would be able to recognize them. For a cost of an additional 100 points, Easy Mode may be activated. Warning: current point levels insufficient to make payment. Regarding point system: actions furthering project goals generate points. Lock violations or insufficient story progress will incur penalties. Negative point status will result in Participant’s ejection from the project.>

Ejection from the project…?

In other words, then, if his points go into the negatives, he’ll be sent back home.

Where he’s… dead.

And what happens if I die during the course of this project? He wonders, thinking of the chilling prospect of Thenerassan’s canonical fate.

Death of the Participant will result in ejection from the project.

So… death, again.

Thenvunin lets out a shaky breath.

He would… yes, he would definitely rather avoid that, all things considered. But by the time a healer - whose name Thenerassan apparently would not have bothered to know - comes to his chambers, he doesn’t feel much closer to regaining his equilibrium.

Thenvunin takes an entire day to rest from his ‘mysterious illness’. In the evening, one of his disciples comes with something more substantial for him to eat. Desire, or ‘Squish’, as the narrative had nicknamed her. She is a pleasant girl, and a teenager, though how old she exactly is would depend on when he’s arrived on this scene. Assuming it’s prior to Uthvir’s descent into hell, she could be anywhere between fourteen and nineteen. Thenerassan - the original - had lusted after this girl, behaving inappropriately the entire time. Seeing the girl come into his rooms, Thenvunin is appalled twice-over by that particular story element. Here Thenerassan was supposed to be her mentor, but he had scarcely seemed to teach her anything except that authority figures weren’t to be trusted! And then she had joined Uthvir’s harem, all full of scandals and intrigue, and… admittedly, Thenvunin had rather lost track of her character after that.

He didn’t recall her has terribly complex. Mostly just sweet, and devoted, a simple ‘childhood friend’ style love-interest. Though he’s surprised when she comes in, and he notices that she lacks the typical ‘dainty’ appearance of such a girl. Instead she is heavy-set and… well, fat. With a round face and broad nose, and a tumble of curly dark hair. She is still quite beautiful, and obviously more than strong enough to handle the training at the peak, but Thenvunin doesn’t recall imagining her this way at all from her description.

Then again, Half-Demon Prince, the author, hadn’t been as typically prone to describing the female characters’ measurements and ‘charms’ as most writers in the genre. There had been a lot of fanart… perhaps the standard interpretation of this character was based more on a popular fanartist’s work, than on all the possibilities contained in her description?

But then, why should the ‘project’ choose an atypical interpretation, rather than the most common one?

He supposes that all has to do with how the system even works, and on that front, it has remained entirely silent.

“Teacher, will this meal do?” Squish asks him. Respectful, but a little distant.

It suddenly strikes Thenvunin - Squish was Uthvir’s only childhood friend. The protagonist. If he is to survive this ordeal, it seems absolutely paramount that Uthvir not want to kill him.

“This meal is fine,” he says, with a dismissive wave of his hand. He focuses intently on Squish’s face. “Tell me, how old are you this year?”

For a moment, he’s almost afraid that the system will tell him that was out-of-character. But it remains silent, and Squish’s expression turns somewhat reluctant.

“Sixteen,” she tells him.

Sixteen… which makes Uthvir fifteen. Three years. Thenvunin has three years to undo Uthvir’s hatred of him. But this also means that Uthvir has already spent two years around the Original Thenerassan. Being bullied, being starved, being beaten, being left out in the cold… Thenvunin pales at the thought of all the rampant child abuse. His only, minor consolation is that Thenerassan hadn’t liked to dirty his own hands. He had preferred to simply encourage the other disciples’ bullying, or to dole out punishments that simply resulted in Uthvir’s misfortune, by doing things like handing out complicated assignments too close to curfew. The other Thenerassan had been concerned with appearances, at least, and the reputation of his sect. It was probably the only reason why he hadn’t just immediately tossed his poor disciple off the mountain.

“My parents have said that they will outright refuse all petitions for my hand until I am twenty,” Squish says, jarring Thenvunin out of his thoughts.

He blinks at her.

“Sensible of them,” he replies.

Oh, for-!

He doesn’t bother to ask what that is about, realizing in a rush of nausea that this interaction must seem like he is digging into his student’s personal business to figure out if he can browbeat her family into handing her over to him. What a sick man the original truly was! He has to fight the urge to clarify things, knowing it will only cost him at the moment.

How many points do I have left? He wonders.

He isn’t entirely addressing the system, but it answers for him anyway.

Since he got here, he’s only managed to lose points…

Squish stares mildly back at him. He lets out a breath.

“Do you know where Disciple Uthvir is?” he asks, attempting to sound as neutral as possible. Neutral cannot really be out of character, right? If Thenerassan was always spitting furious every time he mentioned Uthvir’s name, surely the other mentors at the peak would have had to notice?

Thankfully, that assessment seems correct, as there is no warning or ‘ding’.

Squish’s expression turns wary.

“They’re still doing the tasks you assigned them this morning,” she replies. “They’ve been working as hard as they can.”

Thenvunin purses his lips. Scowling, but not at his student; he’s just trying to figure out how he can start to repair things, when one of the most concrete aspects of Thenerassan’s character was his ardent hatred of all things Uthvir.

“Send them here,” he decides.

<Warning->

How can it be OOC? This is entirely self-serving! He argues. If I don’t get on Uthvir’s good side, I’ll die horribly. If the original Thenerassan knew that, don’t you think he’d start being nicer, too?

Thenvunin swallows.

The food on the lovely tray in front of him makes him slightly nauseous. Squish looks suspicious, but after a moment, she can only nod obediently and leave to go get Uthvir. She looks as though she might say something to him, for a moment. But after a moment passes, she only shakes her head, and then leaves.

So now he needs to think of something that the original Thenerassan would do, that will put a stop to all these abuses - or at least, begin to - without losing him any further points. He has no idea how difficult it will be to regain points, since he hasn’t gained any so far. And that ‘Easy Mode’ that the system mentioned before seems like the sort of thing he might like to unlock, but he’s definitely not going to do so when it will bring his point total remotely close to 'zero'.

By the time Uthvir shows up, the food has gone cold, but Thenvunin thinks he might have happened on a solution. He has moved from his rest bed to his desk, unable to sit still. But he finds himself somewhat frozen again when he finally sees them.

Uthvir.

The terrible demonic tyrant who will eventually slaughter hundreds. Who will build a massive harem of beautiful lovers, all vying for their affections. The sharp, dangerous, deadly protagonist of ‘Immortal Demon Way’.

…But, they’re just a child.

Or a teenager, but Thenvunin’s a legal adult and feels very adult compared to the tiny figure who walks into his chambers. They’ve cut their hair, he notes. He forgets what age they did that at in the story, but thinking on it, it probably wasn’t long after they arrived on the peak. Their uniform is ill-fitting but clean, pulled from standard storage. They have large, red eyes, and soft features. Really, they look younger than fifteen.

But what catches most of his attention is the large blemish on the top of their cheek, and the ugly cut at the corner of their jaw.

Thenvunin stares at them while they shift in place. Waiting to see what kind of torment he has in store for them, no doubt.

I can’t do this. How can I be cruel to a child?

<Warning: Impending Out of Character Behaviour Alert.>

After a moment, Thenvunin clears his throat, and reminds himself of his plan. He makes certain his features retain a cold look, with great effort, as he reaches into a pocket of his robes, and retrieves a little jar of healing salve that the healer left with him. Uthvir’s wary expression does not abate as he tosses it to them; but with their reflexes, of course they catch it.

“It is disgraceful for one of my disciples to go around looking like that,” he declares, lifting his chin and pursing his lips to keep from saying anything else. Poor thing, poor thing, oh you poor little thing… “From now on, there will be no more transgressions to call my good character and teaching into question.”

Uthvir seems to pale at his assertions.

“Teacher,” they say, hurriedly. “Please don’t turn me out. I swear, I will not - I will not provoke them anymore. I know I have been slow at learning how not to, but I think I have made progress... I will redouble my efforts! Please, I have nowhere else to go...”

Thenvunin frowns at their fright, before realizing that Uthvir does not recognize what the healing salve is; they probably think he’s conjuring up an excuse to kick them out of the sect. But even Thenerassan couldn’t really do that - despite his best efforts, Uthvir’s acceptance onto the mountain was the doing of Mana’Din, the Peak Leader.

“Don’t be foolish,” he snaps, and they fall immediately silent. “Do you not even know what a healing salve looks like?”

The OOC Warning remains mercifully silent, but Thenvunin feels like he is dying on the inside.

Uthvir stares uncomprehendingly down at the little jar he gave them.

“This… is healing salve?”

They don’t even know what it looks like! I can smell it from here, but they’re clueless?! They’ve never seen it before?!

Come to that, Thenvunin hadn’t seen it before, either. But apparently he still has some sense memories from the Original… which would also explain why his coordination isn’t completely shot, even if he still feels like a ghost sitting in someone else’s body.

Uthvir doesn’t have the excuse of transporting themselves between worlds, though. They should know what a salve smells like even better than he does. Or they would, if Half-Demon Prince hadn’t given them such a reprehensibly deprived childhood. The realization makes his heart crack in half.

“I expect you to use it,” he says.

He braces himself…

At the ominous ‘ding’ in his mind he nearly dies inside; but to his surprise, the system’s tone isn’t its usual ‘points deducted’ one. It takes him a moment to really register what it’s saying.

<Congratulations! Points toward Achievement: Character Development earned, +10.>

...How many points do I need to get the achievement?

<Beginner’s Tip: Achievements are unlocked at 100 points gained, determined from the moment achievement challenge is set..>

That’s… that’s not so bad, actually. Thenvunin would almost feel good about it, if he hadn’t just been unreasonably cold and cruel to an injured teenager.

...He's going to have to do this at least ten more times. He takes it back, this is terrible.

But Uthvir looks uncomprehendingly at the salve for a moment longer. Before they seem to remember that they’re in the same room as their villainous instructor, and then quickly drop into a bow.

“Thank you, Teacher,” they say.

“Hmph,” Thenvunin replies. “You can go.”

Uthvir doesn’t waste any time in getting away, probably grateful to escape without having something unpleasant happen to them. Once they’re gone, Thenvunin drops back onto his bed, and puts his face into his hands. His shoulders shake, as tears begin to form in his eyes, and spill through the cracks of his fingers.

It’s just a story, he tells himself. Even if it’s different to experience it firsthand, all these people are just characters in a book. It’s not really real.

Is it?

Thenvunin manages to knock his point totals down to 65 before he finally begins to feel confident in manipulating the OOC Locks. Though he still hasn’t managed to earn any new points, he’s figured out some things about the system, and how they seem to be lost.

For one thing, witnesses are required. Thenvunin can do any number of out-of-character things in private, but the system will only notify him of a ‘ding’ if there’s someone present to see it. Which is a good thing, because Thenvunin finds himself breaking down in private quite a bit. The system will also generally warn him if there’s someone liable to witness his out-of-character moments - and whatever else might be said, he does appreciate that. Particularly when he’s been weeping in his rooms, and one of his disciples or another immortal from the peak is on their way to find him.

It’s not that he’s thoroughly miserable, though. It’s just a lot to take in.

Quiet Peak is a really beautiful place. Thenvunin doesn’t think he’s ever been anywhere so lovely before in his life. The peak is situated in a long chain of mystical mountains, and is one of several sacred peaks where spiritualists who have achieved immortality live and congregate. It’s a place replete with nature. Thenvunin’s home is one of several small buildings - almost a village unto itself - situated around a large main temple. It’s summer when he arrives, so the air is clear and warm, with the occasional cool breeze whirling its way around the mountain paths. Lots of small animals fill up the natural spaces of the area. Birds and rodents, foxes and stranger, more fantastical creatures from Half-Demon Prince’s imagination, like Phantom Lemurs and wolves made of branches and vines, held together by ambient nature energy.

To a normal person, some of the animals would probably be quite dangerous. But Thenvunin’s body, as he ascertains, is more than just fit and healthy. He seems to have all the supernatural powers of the immortals in the story. Along with a mystical sword that the original Thenerassed would have pulled from the peak, a blade that was manifested from his own innate energies.

Thenerassan - or rather, Half-Demon Prince - had called the blade ‘Swan’s Grace’. It’s one decision of the old Thenerassan’s that Thenvunin doesn’t mind. The name seems to suit the sword, which rests easily in his grasp, even though he’s never held a sword before in his life. It’s a beautiful thing. Pale and elegant, with a white handle, and a purple tassel tied with enchanted beads that help bolster spiritual energy.

It’s one thing for Thenvunin to know that his body seems to remember how to do some things, though, and another for him to really feel comfortable doing them. The more Thenvunin thinks about upcoming events, the more he finds himself sweating under his collar. There are battles to be fought. Actual battles. Situations where making even the tiniest slip-up could result in death. Thenvunin doesn’t think it’s enough to simply rely on his reflexes, reflexes can’t provide strategies or help him think his way through more complicated situations, or really decide how to apply the skills that he - apparently - now has.

So, when the Peak Leader, Mana’Din, comes to investigate his ‘recovery’ from his mysterious illness, Thenvunin doesn’t waste much time before requesting access to some of the secluded mountain caves that are used for those attempting higher levels of cultivation. Or attempting to regain spiritual equilibrium. He remembers the caves from the books; they were frequently mentioned, and Uthvir even retreated to them on occasion, when a difficult battle had depleted their strength.

Mana’Din is, like Squish, quite different from what Thenvunin had expected, but still well within the bounds of her character description. The Peak Leader is a petite woman, dark-skinned and placid in her countenance. She wears a white half-mask, and an elegant white robe, and regards Thenvunin with what seems to be genuine concern. Almost immediately, he likes her. Though sensing the amount of energy contained within her aura is somewhat disconcerting; Peak Leaders are very strong, of course. Mana’Din is no exception.

In the original story, she was yet another character who died at Uthvir’s hands. Though, more tragically than the original Thenerassan. Uthvir had challenged her for control of the peak. Mana’Din had fought gallantly, but in the end, after all that had led to that moment, the peak’s forces were so weakened that she was no match for a full-powered and determined Uthvir. She as one of the few female characters in the story who actually died, rather than simply falling into Uthvir’s harem after being defeated. Some readers had been quite unhappy about that.

As he invites her to take his morning tea with him, Thenvunin feels another pang of inexplicable guilt. The original Thenerassan’s machinations were a huge component to the weakening of the peak - and to Mana’Din’s inevitable downfall.

“Venavismi told me about your collapse. I came to check on you while you were still unconscious. Forgive me, I would have come to check as soon as you woke, but preparations in the valley took longer than expected.”

Preparations in the…?

Oh! Thenvunin’s pleased to realize that he actually knows what Mana’Din is referring to. The tournament, still scheduled a few years from now, will take place in the valley south of Quiet Peak. Because of the potential dangers of the event, the Peak Lords themselves oversee all the preparations, creating shields and checking the security, and making certain that all possible precautions can be taken. It’s a long endeavour, which is why tournaments are not held more frequently. As an expert in placing barriers, Mana’Din’s skills in particular would be required.

The thought of how badly the tournament still goes puts another twinge of guilt in Thenvunin. He has to bite his tongue to keep from mentioning that extra security will most definitely be needed.

“Are things going well?” he asks, instead.

Mana’Din waves dismissively.

“Of course,” she says. “I’m more concerned over you. I don’t know whether it’s good news or bad news that the healers seem baffled by what’s happened. Do you think it was some sort of attack?”

Thenvunin clears his throat, and shakes his head.

“It did not seem that way to me, though it was… disconcerting,” he replies. Lifting his tea cup, he takes a slow sip. The warm liquid helps to settle his nerves a little, as he prepares his rehearsed lines. “My concern is for the equilibrium of my internal energies. Healers may not notice everything on such a front. If my leader is willing, I would like to retreat to the Secluded Caves, to better attune myself to what may be going on within my body.”

He braces himself. But fortunately, Thenerassan had generally worn a mask of courtesy around his leader; there is no ‘ding’.

Mana’Din makes a contemplative sound, and then inclines her head.

“If you think that would help, then certainly,” she says. “I will gladly open the caves to you. But do you think there is a chance you could unbalance your energies? You should not be left to go alone, in that case.”

Mana’Din is blunt. Thenerassan would have taken offense at the implication that he could unbalance his own energies via meditation, but Thenvunin can only see genuine concern in her expression. Spiritual unbalancing is very dangerous. It can lead to explosive and self-destructive behaviour, as well as lashing out. Left unchecked, it can, as he recalls, cause madness, permanently damage an immortal’s abilities, or even lead to death. And while the original Thenerassan may have been an immortal of indeterminate age, who was very accustomed to cultivating his internal energies, Thenvunin himself is… not.

However, his inexperience could be glaringly obvious to any witnesses who see him try to practice. And if people start to become suspicious, then it could lead to his discovery as an intruder, and then the dreaded ‘project reset’.

Thenvunin’s not sure what the bigger risk is. He hesitates.

Mana’Din seems to read his silence as offense. She lifts a hand.

“Please don’t mistake my concern for doubt. This is a mysterious situation, so, taking some exceptional precautions may be wise,” she tells him. When Thenvunin hesitates again, she purses her lips, and taps the side of her teacup. “Perhaps a compromise? There are certain segments of the cave system that are more open than others. Many of Battle Peak’s disciples are currently using them in early preparation for the tournament. In the event of some calamity, being in that system would probably make it easier to find help, rather than simply using the more traditional caves allotted to our peak…”

The original Thenerassan would have found such a suggestion offensive, Thenvunin thinks again. But would he have protested to his leader? Complaining might seem uglier than just capitulating, or even taking advantage of the situation. Something niggles at the back of his memory. Something about Thenerassan and the caves and Battle Peak… but he doesn’t have a lot of time to dwell on it, as Mana’Din looks at him expectantly.

He puts on a tight smile.

“I suppose, under the circumstances, that would be reasonable,” he concedes.

Mana’Din relaxes a little, and offers him a more genuine smile in return.

“That’s a relief. I’ll worry a little less, now,” she approves. Nothing dings. Thenvunin lets out a silent breath, and sips more of his tea.

Really, Thenvunin can’t help but think. How did it escape your notice that the original Thenerassan wouldn’t have been worth worrying about to begin with?

He doesn’t ask that out loud, though, of course. Despite his repugnant nature, the original Thenerassan currently retains a spotless reputation, marred only by occasion rumours of his ‘harsh’ teaching methods. And that reputation is currently very useful to Thenvunin, who is not looking to ruin it by being an actual child-abusing monster. Even if the system is making that challenging for him.

Mana’Din tells him he can set out for the caves in a few days’ time, after she has established things with Battle Peak. That’s a good development, he thinks, but it still leaves the matter of Uthvir up in the air.

While Thenvunin has been doing what he can to try and mitigate the bullying going on, it’s an uphill battle with the OOC Locks tying his hands. The original Thenerassan had a lot of disciples, though, as Thenvunin recalls, most of them will die as cannon fodder during the tournament. The thought makes him sick to his stomach. Even if they’re mostly a gang of bullies, barring Squish and Uthvir, they’re still children. Well, teenagers. And they’re following the lead set for them by their teacher. Thenvunin is a bit lost at sea on what to do about it all. However, he knows for certain that if he leaves things just as they are, with the senior disciples in charge, it won’t go well for Uthvir.

The trouble is figuring out how he can mitigate that without breaking character.

He’s still turning the matter over in his thoughts later the same day, when he finally decides that, caves or no, he needs to get some practice in.

Despite his lingering troubles with adjusting to having a totally new body, the fact that he actually has energy and a shocking absence of pain keeps making him antsy. All the beautiful nature around him, the strength in his limbs, the air in his lungs, it makes him want to do things. His fingers itch to see what the sword at his belt can do. His heart speeds up at the thought of actually being a warrior, a guardian, someone who can fight and protect people and be gallant and strong. The giddiness he feels over it is even enough to push back his worries about dying, and he finds he doesn’t feel any guilt at all in basically stealing all of these things from the original Thenerassan.

With all that in mind, Thenvunin sets out before evening to find a more secluded spot on the mountain. He has to travel for a while to do it, heading down and into the woods, with Swan’s Grace on his person. The sword feels light, and he finds he often notices its absence more than its presence. He wears green robes that blend in with the pale leaves of the willowy trees that grown in the region, and passes over a woodland stream, before finally finding a good spot.

After triple-checking to make certain that he’s alone, Thenvunin draws his sword, and takes a deep breath.

He swings it.

It slices elegantly through the air.

Another swing. His body remembers motions that Thenvunin has never made before, and after a few more attempts, he finds himself falling into patterns that feel natural. Sword-fighting forms. He pays attention to the way his body moves, or tries to. But it’s exhilarating enough that he soon finds himself distracted by the sheer joy of it all. Swan’s Grace sings, metal through wind, and as his spirits rise Thenvunin finds flurries of air whip up around him. The original Thenerassan was strongly attuned to the wind element. It seems Thenvunin is, too, as the gusts of wind follow his movements, and make the fallen leaves around him dance.

He is so enraptured, he never even notices the tiny figure who stumbles upon him. Arms burdened with firewood, eyes wide as they see their teacher practicing his forms.

Uthvir freezes in place and stares dumbfounded for a moment.

They have seen Master Thenerassan demonstrate techniques before, of course, but such demonstrations have tended to be very simple and mechanical so far. Put your feet here, hold your practice sword like this, sit this way, don’t move like that, and so on and so forth. They have yet to actually see their instructor fight - and of course, they still haven’t. But as they watch, they feel a sudden insight as to what that might look like, and it seems somehow wholly unexpected.

If they ever had to guess, Uthvir would never suppose that Master Thenerassan’s techniques were so… so…

Lovely?

They feel almost like a voyeur, somehow. As if they have stumbled upon the man bathing rather than practicing. The most shocking thing is probably the look on his face, though. From their angle Uthvir can only see part of it, but it seems as if Master Thenerassan is smiling. Smiling as he dances with the wind and strikes out with his sword, moving through forms so complex that Uthvir can only even recognize half of them.

Something in their chest aches with longing.

They want to be that graceful, and powerful. They want to be a master who can rely on their own strength.

They watch, fascinated, until it starts to occur to them that if Master Thenerassan is out practicing in the wilderness by himself, he probably doesn’t want to be seen. Maybe there are some secret techniques that he’s doing? Uthvir’s fear of getting in trouble gradually starts to overcome their interest, and they pull back, retreating the same way they came by and being careful to walk in the footprints they already made, to avoid stepping on twigs or crunching leaves. Every once in a while they glance back, unable to help themselves until Thenerassan is finally out of sight. Then they resolutely keep going, as their heart hammers excitedly in their chest.

They feel as though they have just gotten away with some kind of mischief. Even though, taken at face value, they don’t even know what they mischief would qualify as.

Master Thenerassan could probably enlighten them if he actually caught them, though. And probably assign them even more chores as punishment. Sneering at them from behind his fan.

Although… he seems to be more patient with Uthvir than usual, these days. Maybe Uthvir is actually making fewer mistakes? They’ve found the thought very heartening, even if the other disciples still seem to hate them as much as ever. Except for Squish, of course. Master Thenerassan gave her a new training manual the other day, and she promised to let Uthvir look at it, too. They were going to go this evening, but then Elandaris cornered them and told them to go find firewood.

A lot of the older students shirk their chores onto Uthvir. At first, they’d hoped doing things would be a good way to make friends, but it seems they’re always doing them wrong. Uthvir’s not entirely clueless, although sometimes it feels as though they are. They like to think that it’s the amnesia at fault. The first thing they can recall in life is running, confused, out into the road in one of the southern cities, and nearly falling straight into Lady Mana’Din. They don’t even know how they came by their amnesia; they were first brought to Quiet Peak as a mystery to solve, rather than a disciple to train. The only belonging of any real value that they can claim is the necklace they were wearing at the time Lady Mana’Din found them.

Uthvir never takes it off. They’re deathly afraid of having it stolen. The simple leather cord it’s on is nothing special, but the amber-gold stone, rough and uncut, always feels a little warm against their skin. Lady Mana’Din thinks it might be a Spirit Shard. The only other person they’ve ever shown it to is Squish, and she likes it a lot, too. Uthvir knows she’d be thrilled if they gave it to her, but they can’t bring themselves to part with it. Even if they don’t know why, it’s… theirs.

As if drawn to the current of their thoughts, the necklace in question slides out from under their over-sized collar. Uthvir pauses, shifting the firewood in their arms so that they can reach up and tuck it away again.

“Hey!”

They look up, startled, at the sound of an unwelcome voice.

Elandaris!

Hastily, Uthvir finishes shoving their treasure away again, and takes a wary step backwards. They nearly lose their balance, burdened with the firewood in their arms. Elandaris seems to be alone; they don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“I’ve nearly finished,” they say.

“Took you long enough,” Elandaris replies, marching determinedly towards them. He points at their chest. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Uthvir asks, playing dumb. “The branches…?”

Before they can react, Elandaris reaches out, whip-fast, and yanks the piece of cord around their neck. Uthvir fumbles and their treasure pops back out of their collar, as their heart speeds up.

Oh no!

The older boy’s expression twists in a mix of anger and triumph as he reaches for the spirit shard. Uthvir manages to whirl away in earnest then, though, dropping the firewood they’re carrying. To their horror, the branches and logs fall directly onto Elandaris’ feet.

A disciple of Elandaris’ level isn’t going to be as fragile as most mortals, so Elandaris is at little risk of having his foot bones broken. But that doesn’t mean it’s not still a painful thing to have an armload of wood dropped right onto his shoes.

“I’m sorry!” Uthvir immediately exclaims. Elandaris reels back, cursing, before his face twists in anger and he lashes out and punches Uthvir clean across the face.

The force behind the blow is more than enough to send them staggering.

“You clumsy oaf!” Elandaris exclaims. “How dare you! You could have injured my feet. That would set my training back. Are you trying to sabotage me?!”

“No!” Uthvir assures him, spreading out their hands. “No, of course not! I would never! It was an accident, you grabbed me and-”

“Clumsy piece of shit!” Elandaris accuses again. “Either you did that on purpose, or you are a waste of training! Come back here!”

Uthvir’s attempts to move further away are thwarted by Elandaris grabbing them. They try and counter his grip, but the older student is faster, and pulls at their treasure instead.

“And where did you get this?” he demands.

“It’s mine!” Uthvir insists, reflexively.

“Yours? Where would you get a spirit shard?” Elandaris demands. “Even a cheap-looking one like this should be beyond the means of a beggar’s child like you. And don’t tell me someone gave it to you! I know no one would. You have no coin and you have no friends, so the only answer is that you stole it.”

“I didn’t steal it!”

Elandaris hits them in punishment. Uthvir knows they shouldn’t argue, but this is their treasure. If Elandaris thinks they stole it then he’ll take it away.

“I didn’t steal it!” they insist, through the pain. “It’s always been mine, it was found with me, Lady Mana’Din knows!”

“Liar!” Elandaris accuses. He tugs at the cord, and Uthvir struggles back. A few well-placed kicks send them falling backwards, though. Despite their efforts to train their skills, the extra chores that are always being given to them take up most of the time they would spend practicing. They are behind; they know it. And they don’t have much recourse, though their heart lurches in pure alarm as they feel the ties on their leather cord finally give out.

Elandaris seizes their treasure.

Uthvir falls down, and trips over the dropped firewood.

“No!” they protest, scrambling to get back up. “It’s mine, it’s not-”

“Shut up, you little liar!” Elandaris snaps back, and lands a kick against their stomach. Uthvir grabs his leg, too desperate to back down. They scramble to try and reclaim their necklace. The defiance makes Elandaris even more furious, however, and after a moment they are both rolling through the undergrowth. Uthvir loses track of where their treasure even is, if it’s been dropped or if the older student still has it, as Elandaris gets them pinned and begins pummeling them.

“How dare you!” he snarls. “You sneaky little thief!”

Uthvir tries to cover their face, finally going purely on the defensive. They brace themselves for the beating.

But Elandaris only lands a few uncoordinated hits before he suddenly stops; crying out in pain.

Bewildered, Uthvir risk looking again.

Elandaris is holding his hands up. But there is a large, crimson gash on the back of one of his wrists.

“How did you do that?” he demands, shocked at the sight of his own blood. “Did you stab me?!”

Uthvir swiftly shakes their head.

“How could I?” they ask.

It must be the wrong thing to say, though, because Elandaris just looks angrier. Like he thinks they must be tricking him. Uthvir only feels confused as he lefts his fists again. They brace themselves, but this time they keep watching. So they see quite clearly as his hands come down, and…

A leaf.

A simple leaf, being carried on a swift wind, whips by and slashes Elandaris’ hands again, before he can bring them down to hit. He lets out another cry of pain, and finally scrabbles back off of Uthvir. Bleeding from both hands.

“What are you doing?!” he wails. “You’ve cut me! You wretch! How did you cut me?”

“It’s not me doing it,” Uthvir tries to explain, raising placating hands. “It’s…”

The leaves?

They glance down to the ground, and the two unbroken, perfectly-shaped, but blood-edged leaves lying not too far away. There are techniques that can make even flower petals as sharp as darts, especially in the hands of wind practitioners, Uthvir knows. They’ve read as much as they can, when they’re able to. But in that case…

There’s only one person who could do this sort of thing.

If Master Thenerassan wanted to stop Elandaris, though, he could simply come and tell him to stop?

This must be a lesson, then. Or a test. Uthvir curses their own stupidity, as they wonder what the correct response is. They never seem to know the right answer with these things. But if Master Thenerassan doesn’t want his presence to be known, then… it’s probably better not to tell Elandaris?

Maybe Elandaris is supposed to figure things out for himself? He is also a student, after all.

Uthvir remains silent, and the two of them fall into a wary stand-off. After a moment, they push themselves back to their feet.

“Give me back my treasure,” they demand, helpless to let the matter go.

Elandaris’ expression twists. He looks down, but then, to Uthvir’s growing dismay, seems to realize that he doesn’t still have it.

“I dropped it,” he tells them. Then he lifts his chin. “Which is just lucky for you, because if I hadn’t I’d be taking it to Master Thenerassan right now, and you’d be getting kicked off the mountain for thieving.”

Uthvir balls their fists, but doesn’t dare make a move. The corners of their eyes itch.

“I’m not a thief!”

For a moment, they think Elandaris is going to try and beat them some more. But there’s blood still pouring from his cuts, and the sight of it seems to make him hesitate instead. After a tense second, he turns on his heel.

“You just wait,” he says. “I’m telling Master Thenerassan all about this anyway, about how you tried to break my feet and bloodied my poor hands. And then that’ll finally be the end of you!”

On that note, Elandaris races off. Uthvir thinks they would be terrified of his claims, except…

Except, Master Thenerassan must alright know. Mustn’t he?

And he… he stopped Elandaris.

They just feel confused, as they pause and look around. No matter how they search, though, they can’t seem to see their teacher anywhere. They give up looking for him after a minute - if he doesn’t want to be found, they don’t suppose they stand much of a chance - and instead start searching for the necklace. Their ribs and stomach and face all hurt from Elandaris’ blows, but they can’t just leave it behind. They try and retrace things, but even though they search high and low, pulling aside plants and checking around stumps, and even looking in spots that seem unlikely places, they can’t find it before the sun begins to set.

Their treasure…

Uthvir is so disconsolate, they finally slump on the ground, and let a few tears escape.

“I lost it,” they whisper. “I’m so sorry…”

They aren’t even sure who they’re apologizing to. The words just seem to fly out on their own. They take a minute to cry, holding themselves upright on shaky limbs. Before they finally sigh, and resign themselves to the truth. They still have to bring the firewood back. And now that they’ve lost so much time, they’ll probably have to spend all of tomorrow making up the difference on their chores. The ones they can’t do in the dark, anyway. They sniffle, and brush off their cheeks. Trying to dry their eyes as they finally pick up the dropped firewood, and then stagger back towards the mountain path.

Into their pockets, they tuck a pair of blood-stained leaves.

Thenvunin feels like he must be the worst person in the world.

He had been surprised when his practice had been interrupted by voices. Raised in argument, by the sounds of it. For half a second he was irrationally afraid that he had been caught, and that something about his practice had been so inherently wrong that he was on the verge of being discovered. But then he’d realized the voices were further off than that. And then he’d recognized them, too.

Uthvir and… Elandaris.

Oh no.

As he hurried over, Thenvunin found himself recollecting the scene he was encountering. If it was the one he suspected, anyway. The one where Elandaris stole Uthvir’s precious necklace, the only remnant of their forgotten, tragic past. The one item that could still bring warmth to their cold heart, even when they were at the height of their dark ways.

In the original story, Uthvir had eventually regained the necklace when Elandaris died in the tournament.

Thenvunin watches as the two students struggle through the undergrowth, though, and sees the necklace in question stuck in the middle of a nearby fern. From his angle it’s quite clearly visible. The golden shard is a bright bit of light in the dark green foliage. Most of his attention is soon caught by the fight, however, and his first impulse merits several insistent warnings from the system.

Thenvunin’s fists clench and unclench. Thenerassan wouldn’t have stopped Uthvir’s mistreatment.

System, how many points will I lose for just marching out there and stopping it anyway?

What?! 40 points? He only has sixty-five as it is! That would… that would put him so close to complete failure…

His mouth goes dry. Is he really just going to stand here and watch this happen?

No. No, there has to be a way to interfere. Even if he can’t stop it directly, there must be something he can do. He thinks. There’s a technique, he remembers. It was one of the cooler things about the original Thenerassan, in with all his depravity and scumbag qualities. Precision was something he was actually good at. He could whip around tiny things with enough speed and subtlety to make even the most innocuous strips of paper or blades of grass into weapons.

Of course, the original had mostly used this to inflict secret torments on Uthvir. Thenvunin can only hope it will work in reverse, as he plucks a leaf from a nearby tree. Keeping out of sight, he lifts the leaf to mouth, and blows. The first attempt goes wide of the mark, though. Drawing in a determined breath, Thenvunin grabs another one, and tries again. As Elandaris raises his fists, Thenvunin focuses precisely on where he wants the wind to carry the leaf. He feels the energy in his body, and the energy in the world around himself. And just like that, it feels as if he is remembering how to do something, rather than learning it for the first time.

The leaf slashes Elandaris.

Thenvunin is a little shocked at how much blood it draws. His bullying disciple pales, shocked in turn at the sudden blow.

Even so, Thenvunin doesn’t hesitate to send the second leaf. Uthvir looks as though they’ve been through the wringer. Elandaris finally backs off at that, but Thenvunin frowns deeply at his tirade. Already wondering how to manage that upcoming situation. He thinks he can handle it, though, so long as he focuses on Elandaris’ own misconduct. After all, the original Thenerassan would have known that Uthvir had some possessions, and that accusing them of stealing such things wouldn’t hold any water. He probably just would have been annoyed that Elandaris was wasting his time with information that he couldn’t use.

But then he hears an ominous ding.

What?! But - but, how? It was only a couple of leaves! Neither Uthvir nor Elandaris could possibly know who sent them!

System, I object! There’s no way that should have counted towards a deduction!

But no one even knows it was me!

Thenvunin feels sick. 45. He’s down to 45 points now, and all he’s earned so far is 10. This is a nightmare! He keeps still, fretting over having less than half his starting points, as Uthvir begins to search around for their lost treasure. It takes him a few minutes to even register what they’re doing. And when he does, he feels another lurch in his gut.

There, he thinks at them. Keeping his hiding place, yet trying, at the same time, to mentally project some knowledge of the necklace’s location towards them. It’s right there! Look over there, Uthvir, come on, you can find it!

He could just pick it up and give it to them. But he absolutely can’t, he knows. The thought of losing any more points right now just makes him feel sick to his stomach. So instead he stays locked in place, while he watches Uthvir search and search, their bruises purpling from where Elandaris hit them. Do they still have healing salve left? He tries to think of ways he could get them more, at least, to keep from cracking and doing something impossibly foolish. But he feels as if he is on the verge of it anyway, when Uthvir drops to the ground and begins to cry.

Oh, no! Thenvunin thinks, swallowing hard as his own vision goes a little blurry. Oh, no, Uthvir, it’s alright, it will be alright…

He doesn’t know how he manages to withstand it, until Uthvir finally gathers up the firewood, and limps off alone.

It’s only when they’re gone that he moves himself. Walking quietly over to the fern, and plucking the spirit shard necklace up from where it had been dropped.

<Congratulations! A pivotal scene has been completed. Important Item: Uthvir’s Treasure has been obtained. +100 points awarded. Achievement: Character Development has been obtained! OOC Restriction Lock has been removed.>

Thenvunin is so struck by relief at the sudden, unexpected points gain, that he almost doesn’t notice the necklace vanishing from his hands. But an object just vanishing is actually strange enough that it almost immediately distracts him from the bizarre rush of success.

Wait, system! He protests. Where did it go?

He has to get that back to Uthvir, somehow!

<Beginner’s Tip: Important Items may be stored within the system until Participant decides to use them.>

Thenvunin blinks.

So… you have the necklace?

There’s no answer, but that seems to be the correct assumption.

System, could you please give it back?

He’s thinking he might just be able to sneak it back into Uthvir’s possession, somehow, before he gets a response.

What?! Thenvunin draws in a ragged breath, and then lets out it again. He lifts up a hand to rub at his face. What sort of system even is this? He only just earned those points! And without them he’ll be down to less than half again. And will it undo his achievement? He… he can’t…

He swallows.

…No, he finally answers the system. He can work this out. He’ll get Uthvir their treasure back, it’ll just… take a bit longer than expected. All he has to do is earn enough points to feel comfortable, and then he can spare the 100 points needed to return it. And in the meanwhile, he can focus on making things better for them, now that he can actually act with some freedom. He’ll make it up to them later, he vows.

…Somehow.

The situation still seems bittersweet somehow, as he finally dusts himself off, and makes his own way back.

It wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that the loss of their treasure leaves Uthvir disconsolate.

When they get back, they can’t even bring themselves to tell Squish. She just thinks Elandaris was picking on them again, and it takes a lot of effort for Uthvir to convince her not to go try and break his knees. But they’re already in enough trouble as it stands, and Elandaris has a lot more influence with Master Thenerassan than either Squish or Uthvir. Though…

In light of what happened with the leaves, Uthvir’s not sure what to make of the situation anymore.

Master Thenerassan doesn’t like them. They’ve known that since their first week of training, when he more or less told them so. Most of the disciples at the peak come from good families. Quiet Peak is very well-respected, and the potential to ascend to immortality and prominence is enough to catch a lot of people’s interest. Of course, not everyone has the aptitude or discipline for it. Even a prince wouldn’t be able to join the sect if he lacked the potential for training. But while Quiet Peak looks after its residents, serving the region also doesn’t exactly pay well. So all things considered, most of the applicants who get accepted come from families who have enough affluence to spare them, enough connections to actually get them there, and who also have the potential needed to be considered for training to begin with.

Sometimes, though, masters who are out on trips will cross paths with individuals who seem to have very noteworthy potential. These people can be of all sorts of backgrounds; what matters is just that they have the makings of a good disciple. According to the tenets of Quiet Peak’s sect, there shouldn’t be any discrimination of people based on where they came from originally. Once someone sets themselves to the path of ascension, then, one’s place along that path is more pivotal to rank and influence than their birthrights or privileges.

That’s not really how it works, though. Uthvir is one of only a few disciples with a poor background, and the only one serving Master Thenerassan. When Mana’Din had decided to offer them a place on the peak as a student, Master Thenerassan had warned Uthvir not to expect that the idealism of the tenets would shield them from reality - that someone like them, regardless of their spiritual potential, was a pity case. A servant more than a disciple, not somebody who could actually learn and achieve full mastery someday.

Uthvir wants to, though. Even if it’s unrealistic, even if it’s impossible, they want to be strong. They can’t help but think of what they saw in the trees, before they ran into Elandaris. Master Thenerassan, moving with the wind.

A knock on their door startles them out of their thoughts. Their arrival at the temple was unexpected, so, when they were first set up they were given an old wood shed for a room. Lady Mana’Din told them it was temporary, but they’ve been there ever since. Uthvir actually likes it, though. The thought of sleeping in the barracks, with the other disciples, makes them feel cold dread down their spine. Even if it was the same barracks as Squish, they’d probably never sleep soundly again.

When they call out to the knock, it’s Squish who opens the door. Uthvir relaxes a little, seeing their friend coming in with some clean bandages over one arm, and a lantern in one hand.

“It’s late,” they say.

Squish hangs the lantern up on the hook by the door, and shakes her head.

“I only brought a few things,” she says. “I won’t get in trouble, it’s Venavismi who’s on the evening watch tonight and he’s a soft touch.”

Uthvir swallows, but can’t really find the energy to argue. They cause a lot of trouble for Squish. She doesn’t say so, but the others have told them often enough. Even Master Thenerassan has said so.

“Here,” Squish says, handing them the bandages. “Do you still have that jar of salve?”

Uthvir reaches under their blanket, and grabs the little jar to confirm it.

Another strange thing, they think. Master Thenerassan is often scolding them for not meeting standards, but he doesn’t usually give them the means to do so, either. The salve is really good, too. Uthvir has to fight the temptation to use it all up, rationing themselves and making sure to cover up any injuries that would be visible, first. But it feels warm and smells spicy, and makes the aches fade away. Squish takes the jar from them, which has them frowning.

“Don’t use it all,” they warn.

“I’ll use just enough,” Squish assures them, and then sets about helping them tend their wounds.

It’s always been like this. When Uthvir first came to the peak, Squish looked at them like she’d seen a ghost. But then afterwards, she was always helping them. Even when other people were very clear that everything Uthvir did was wrong, Squish never turned away or stuck up her nose. They could only conclude that she was the kindest person in the world.

That made them think on the strangeness of Master Thenerassan’s behaviour again, though. So far as Uthvir could tell, no one had really changed their attitude towards them since they had arrived at the peak. Lady Mana’Din was kind, like Squish, but she also very busy. She said hello to Uthvir whenever she saw them - which wasn’t often. The other disciples were either indifferent to Uthvir, or else actively disliked them. Master Thenerassan despaired of them ever showing any talent, and was just waiting for them to make the final, crucial error that would finally let him get rid of them.

So why had he given them the salve? Maybe he really was just sick of looking at Uthvir’s bruises and thinking they were an embarrassment. What was going on with the leaves, though? And come to think of it… there have been other things, too. The past while he hasn’t given Uthvir any chores to do. The other disciples have, but not Master Thenerassan. He hasn’t snapped or snarled at them for a while, either, or boxed their ears for speaking out of turn.

It’s nothing really big - but it’s why Uthvir has been hopeful that they’ve been doing better.

So… have they?

Are things different because they’re finally getting some stuff right for a change?

The only trouble Uthvir can find with that thought, is that they don’t think they’ve been doing anything differently. It makes them anxious not to know what they might have done right, because if they can’t figure it out, then how can they keep doing it?

“Squish,” they ask, as she carefully applies a thin layer of salve to their bruised cheek. The tip of her tongue is pressing out, just a little bit, as she concentrates.

“Hmm?”

“Have you noticed anything… different, about Master Thenerassan lately?”

Squish pauses for a moment, frowning a little. She doesn’t like their chief instructor. Uthvir knows that, although she won’t tell them why. They’re almost expecting her to just tell them that she doesn’t want to talk about ‘that man’, like usual.

After a moment, though, her brow furrows a little bit.

“I have, actually. He seems less…” she trails off, and makes a face like she’s trying to think of a term suitable for a student referring to their teacher.

This is a frequent problem whenever Squish talks about Master Thenerassan.

“Shit?” Uthvir suggests.

Mostly to make her laugh. They’re just in the wood shed, after all.

And it works! Squish snorts, and grins a little. Then she seems to think about it, as she goes back to applying the salve, and shakes her head.

“Don’t say that where the others can hear. Disparaging our ‘illustrious’ teacher will just get us into trouble,” she warns.

“I know,” Uthvir says, quietly. “I was just joking. It’s a great honour to serve someone like Master Thenerassan.”

Squish snorts again.

“Don’t say that, either. It makes me want to point out all of his failings instead.” Switching to their other side, she starts rubbing some salve onto the bruises there. Uthvir holds still, and fights back a wince whenever her fingers brush over and especially sensitive spot.

“Lazy,” she mutters. “Insincere. Vain. He barely teaches, I don’t think he can take credit for the success of any of his students, even partially. He just treats us like servants, unless someone else is watching. I wish he’d fall off the peak so someone else would have to take us on instead.”

“Squish!” Uthvir protests. “That’s ungrateful!”

She gives them a flat look.

“I’m incredibly ungrateful for him,” she confirms. Uthvir wants to laugh, although they know they shouldn’t. It’s mostly her tone. Well, that, and the little voice inside their head that whispers that they’ve never liked Master Thenerassan very much either.

They used to. When they first arrived they thought he was magnificent. Regal and handsome, like a portrait of everything a master of Quiet Peak should be. That impression lasted for about five minutes.

Then he opened his mouth.

“But,” Squish says, tugging their shirt open to get at the bruises on their chest and stomach. Uthvir tries to stop her - they’ll waste salve - but she just bats their hands away and starts applying it anyhow. “You’re right. He does seem different, this past little while.”

Hmm.

So if Squish has noticed it, too, then maybe it’s not that Uthvir has actually gotten better at things?

“Do you think he had a revelation?” they wonder.

Their friend shrugs.

“I don’t know. I heard he fell down and hit his head. Maybe it’s a miraculous head bump situation, like in some stories? Something knocked a negative block out of his skull that’s gone unnoticed for decades, and now he’s finally able to channel ‘niceness’ again,” she jokes.

Uthvir gives that prospect some serious consideration, though. It might not be as silly as she’s making it sound. Oh, it wouldn’t be exactly that, obviously. But what studying Uthvir has done has taught them that spiritual energy can behave in really unpredictable ways. If it didn’t, then it would be a lot simpler for people to train and deliberately control it, cultivating it at a steady and consistent rate throughout all individuals. It would be like working with uniformly sized blocks, always knowing the measurements and therefore knowing how many you need in order to build what you want. But instead, it’s like growing a forest full of trees. You can know what kind of seeds you’re putting down, can try and get the trees to grow in certain ways, but in the end, no two forests will ever grow exactly the same.

And Uthvir has overheard a lot of stories, from everywhere around the peak, really. Things can get very quiet, so gossip is inevitable. One of the favourite topics of all the disciples tends to be stories about bizarre things that have happened to people during training, cultivation, meditation, or combat.

There are a lot of stories about people whose erratic behaviour, odd quirks, or particular training struggles turned out to be the cause of some kind of spiritual block that was literally ‘knocked loose’ by something hitting them, or by them falling over, or getting struck by accident. Probably the most popular story is the tale of one ancient master who fell down the temple stairs and nearly doubled his spiritual potency.

Uthvir thinks that one might be a dirty joke in disguise, though. There are a lot of references to ‘bouncing all the way day’ in a pointed fashion that tends to provoke giggles. They think it’s a pretty tame dirty joke, in that case - but that’s beside the point. Many of the stories sound like they’re supposed to be true, even if some of them are just rumours or have all the facts jumbled up.

“...Do you think that really could have happened, though?” they ask Squish.

She pauses. At first she looks like she’s going to just say ‘no, of course not’, and laugh. But then her face scrunches up, as the same thought process seems to occur to her.

“Stranger things have been known to occur,” she finally concludes.

The whole idea makes Uthvir feel strangely hopeful, and also a little bad. Has Master Thenerassan been having difficulties this whole time, then? And no one noticed? That’s sad. Now that Uthvir thinks about it, though, it doesn’t seem like very many people are close to Master Thenerassan.

Squish finishes up, and puts some bandages over the salve to keep it from wiping off while they sleep. Uthvir offers to walk her back to her barracks but she waves them off, and only takes the lantern with her as she finally has to go. Uthvir lets out a long breath, finally feeling the aches from their beating subside; but also keenly feeling the absence of their treasure, and its usual, subtle warmth.

Their blanket feels cold as they settle down. They stare at the moonlight through the cracks in the wood shed door, and think it might just be easier to puzzle over the ineffable ways of their teacher, rather than dwelling on the bitter sense of loss.

The next day proves to be a very strange one for Uthvir.

They wake up late. Which alarms them; they must have overslept, and they have so many chores still to do, they’re bewildered and at a loss that no one kicked open their door and dragged them out to get them. The possible reasons for why that might not have happened aren’t heartening; is Master Thenerassan going to declare that they’ve been neglecting their duties, and finally kick them out?

Is that why no one woke them? Because there’d be no point?

Or are they going to get punished for being lazy and sleeping half the day away?

They hurry out, hastily securing their outer tunic, before they make themselves stop and tie their belt correctly. They can’t afford any more mistakes today! They think quickly, checking the time to find that it’s past noon, and then pelt towards the kitchens. Calling apologies, only to find themselves turned hastily away from their usual scrubbing jobs - jobs they’d neglected yesterday, in all the chaos and confusion.

“It’s alright, Uthvir,” one of the older disciples tell them. Not one of their fellows. Uthvir comes up short, full of dread rather than reassurance, even as she pats their shoulder. “We’ve got it under control. Master Thenerassan sent word not to expect you today.”

Uthvir’s heart sinks into their stomach.

Oh no.

What if yesterday was a test? And they failed?

In a flurry of anxieties, they head for the stables next. But again they find themselves turned away; cordially informed not to worry, that they aren’t expected. They think they even see Elandaris inside, mucking things out with a black expression on his face. Only for a moment. Then they’re shoo’d away. As they head for the temple steps instead, they’re getting ready to plead for their life - or, well, their life at the peak at least - when someone calls out to them.

Uthvir stops, and then drops into a polite-but-rigid bow as they see Young Master Venavismi jogging towards them.

Venavismi is the youngest of the currently ascended masters at the peak. His duties include guarding the grounds, and…

…And escorting unwelcome persons out of the temple.

Uthvir feels like their doom is cheerfully jogging towards them. Some part of them just wants to run, thinking that this must be it. They’re getting kicked out. They don’t even know where they’ll go, or what they’ll do. They’ll end up on the streets, and the other disciples have been very fond of telling them exactly what sorts of things that would entail. They’re as stiff as a statue by the time Venavismi catches up with them.

“Hey, Uthvir!” he says, jovially. “Your master wants to see you. He’s at his studies, but he asked me to keep an eye out for when you got up.”

Uthvir swallows, and takes a minute to register what’s actually being said. In specific, they have to blink, and realize that Venavismi isn’t talking about escorting them off the mountain.

“What?” the ask. They’d been so convinced that disaster was on the way, now that it hasn’t come, they aren’t sure how to respond.

“Master Thenerassan wants to see you,” the older disciple repeats. His expression turns towards worry. “Are you alright, little sibling?”

“Of course,” they say, and manage another hasty bow. They’re still probably in trouble, but maybe… maybe if they’re being talked to, first, then there’s still a chance to salvage things. “Of course, I’ll go straight away. Thank you, Elder Brother.”

“No problem,” Venavismi assures them. He still looks concerned. “Here, let me walk you. I’m heading that way anyhow.”

Uthvir can’t exactly dissuade him without being rude. They go with him towards Master Thenerassan’s home. At a few points they pass some of Uthvir’s fellow disciples - the dark looks they’re giving Uthvir seem amplified, and it actually makes them grateful that the guardian is with them. Even if Venavismi likes to make a lot of inane small-talk.

“So how are your studies going?” he asks.

“I am progressing slowly,” Uthvir admits.

“Oh. Well, everyone usually has to go at their own pace. When I was your age, Lady Mana’Din told me that it was better to measure one’s spiritual progress against their past self, rather than their peers. Look to where you have come from where you started, rather than concerning yourself with how you stack up to the other students.”

“That sounds very wise, thank you for the advice,” Uthvir recites politely. Their thoughts are flying all over the place, though, and in truth, they barely hear most of what Venavismi says as he chats at them. All the way past the mountain garden and over the little bridge to the familiar grounds of Master Thenerassan’s home, and then even inside, as Venavismi is the one who knocks and loudly calls out.

“Brother! I brought your little student!” he says. “Are you still reading?”

There’s a rustling sound from the study.

“Yes, I’m in here. Send them in, please. Thank you,” Master Thenerassan calls back.

Venavismi gives Uthvir a pat on the shoulder.

“There. Go on,” he encourages.

They steel themselves, already rehearsing apologies as they make their way into the office.

The windows are open, Uthvir notes. And the desk has been moved. They can hear some pleasant birdsong, although everything sounds rather ominous to them under the circumstances. Swan’s Grace, Master Thenerassan’s sacred sword, is in its wall stand. Their teacher himself is sitting so that he can face the window; closing some manuals that Uthvir doesn’t recognize. A small tray of snacks is resting on the desk. Though most immortals of Master Thenerassan’s calibre don’t require food for sustenance anymore, many still eat for the pleasure of it.

Uthvir’s empty stomach rumbles a little, and they nearly recoil from themselves in horror.

“Sorry!” they blurt.

Master Thenerassan raises an eyebrow.

However, to their shock and confusion, he then slides the plate of snacks towards them. Until it’s at the edge of the desk nearest to them.

“Have you not eaten yet, Uthvir? I didn’t think Venavismi would bring you in such a rush. Have some of this, and take a seat,” he instructs.

Uthvir hesitates.

Not to be disobedient, but only because they feel like this must be some kind of trap or trick. They wait too long, and they see Master Thenerassan’s smooth expression shift towards something like irritation. Or what they think must be irritation, anyway. Hastily, they do as told, before they can get scolded. They fold themselves down across from his desk, and scoop up one of the sweet powdered rolls from the plate. In such a hurry to obey that they bite into it before they think about manners, and send a scattering of crumbs down their front.

“Sorry,” they say again, through a mouthful.

Their cheeks burn as they realize their second slip-up.

But Master Thenerassan just leans forward, and pointedly sets the plate of snacks directly into Uthvir’s lap.

“There,” he says. “No need to get crumbs anywhere, I had my fill of those anyway.”

Uthvir swallows. Their mouth feels dry with terror and confusion, but asking for a glass of water at this point would be beyond idiocy. They feel like they should refuse the offer, to be obligingly polite and deferential, but Master Thenerassan hasn’t really give them room to. He regards them strangely for a moment. Unsure of how to react, they take a more careful bite of the powdered roll, with care to make sure all the crumbs on their shirt land on the plate.

Master Thenerassan pulls a fan from his sleeve, and opens it. He lets out a long breath, and leans back. It looks as if he might be deciding something. Uthvir can’t escape the thought that he is, in fact, deciding their future.

Their fate.

“Uthvir,” he finally says, after what seems like a small eternity. The sweet roll tastes like ash in their mouth. “I owe you an apology. I have been a negligent instructor.”

To Uthvir, Thenerassan’s words sound incredibly ominous. Like the beginning of a speech that starts with ‘I have failed you as a teacher’ and ends with ‘you are no longer going to be my student’. They swallow, and fight back a cough, and put aside the plate in their lap to drop into the lowest bow they can manage.

“Master Thenerassan, please, you are the greatest instructor I could ever ask for!” they say. “I’m sorry I slept in. I didn’t mean to. I won’t make excuses, but I would never let it happen again, it wasn’t my intention-”

“Uthvir, stop, stop,” Master Thenerassan gently interrupts. They look up to find him motioning at them.

Warily, Uthvir straightens back up again.

The smile he gives them makes them feel even more lost at sea.

“I am not angry with you, Uthvir,” he says, firmly. “You are not in any trouble. On the contrary, if anyone should be punished, it should be the Master Thenerassan who has taught you these past few years. He has done disgracefully. And so, some things around here are now going to change.”

Uthvir blinks.

They are utterly lost. What is going on? What is this leading to? Is it a test? A trap?

Master Thenerassan looks at them strangely again. Then he sighs, and puts his fan up to hide some of his expression once more.

“The other students have been mistreating you,” their teacher asserts.

Uthvir automatically shakes their head in denial.

“Yes, they have been,” Master Thenerassan says, firmly. Angrily, they think. They swallow and duck their head. What’s going on? What are the right answers? For the past few years they haven’t ever been a favoured pupil, but they thought that they had at least figured out how to manage certain interactions. There were patterns that they could predict; that made it easier, even if it always seemed to end in something unpleasant for them anyway.

But now all those patterns are gone.

“I will not permit it to continue,” Master Thenerassan says.

Uthvir bites the inside of their cheek, and keep their gaze averted. So are they being sent away, then? To stop it from continuing?

Another long sigh reaches them.

“...In a few days, Uthvir, I will be making a personal journey to attend to my health. While I am away, I do not think it would be very wise to leave you disciples under Elandaris’ charge. I know he is the senior among you, and that is ordinarily what I would do, but… I, ah. Have been burdening him with too much responsibility.”

Uthvir blinks. The memory of blood-stained leaves beats through the panic in their mind.

Tentatively, they look up at their teacher. But Master Thenerassan is holding his fan, still.

Health? They wonder. Immortals don’t really get sick, but there are things that can injure, poison, or otherwise impeded them in ways similar to illnesses. And spiritual ailments can happen too, of course.

Does this have something to do with his odd behaviour? And his fall? Is… were they and Squish actually right?

But then, Uthvir thinks, maybe he’s going to reverse the process? Maybe he didn’t accidentally remove a block. Maybe he just addled his skull a little. They feel guilty for thinking that sort of thing could make an improvement on the man.

Although… maybe Elandaris just did something to make him really angry? Maybe this isn’t about Uthvir doing better, but Elandaris doing worse?

Master Thenerassan carries on, heedless of their thoughts and speculation.

“Obviously, I cannot simply leave the training of my disciples to the wolves for several weeks. But it would be too much to burden any one Sibling of the peak with handling all of you. So I have made arrangements for you all to attend different teachers, while I am gone. They have generously loaned some of their time for this cause. I will tell everyone, of course, but for now you can know that you and Desire will be answering to Master Venavismi while I’m away.”

Uthvir blinks.

Venavismi?

That’s… not bad? And they’re serving with Squish? Master Thenerassan put them together on purpose?

“Oh,” is all they can manage at first, in their surprise. Then they remember their manners, and duck their head. “Thank you very much, Teacher.”

“Hm. You should thank Master Venavismi for his time, but don’t worry about thanking me,” Master Thenerassan says. “All you need to do is make sure you go to him and tell him if anyone is bothering you. It is not good for the other disciples to shirk their duties onto you. Chores are distributed throughout the peak as part of training. Every disciple must learn how to balance the necessities of daily life with the pursuit of loftier goals. But right now, things are unbalanced. Uthvir does all of the chores, and barely has time to focus on their spiritual cultivation and practice. The others do none of the chores, and do not build up their characters. So don’t think you’re doing them any favours by keeping quiet about their mistreatment towards you.”

Uthvir’s eyes are wide.

Again, they flounder. Not knowing what to say. But the habit of thinking that if there’s a problem, then they must be to blame for it, is an old standby. They immediately start offering apologies again; and rendered uncertain, again, when Master Thenerassan makes them stop that.

“You are not in trouble,” their teacher reiterates.

“But I… hurt their training?” they venture. Isn’t that what they’re getting at?

Master Thenerassan looks vexed.

“No, Uthvir. I am saying that they have hurt your training, as well as their own. And that I have failed you by letting this go on so long,” he declares.

Uthvir feels like someone just opened up the floor underneath them. They stare blankly ahead, and then blink a few times.

They… he… what?

“...Really?” they venture at last.

Master Thenerassan’s expression vanishes behind a wave of his fan again.

“Really,” he says, in a tone that brooks no argument. “But it falls to me, now, to try and fix this. That will take us some time, I fear. And some things cannot be endured; you can no longer sleep in that filthy wood shed, for starters.”

“I don’t mind it!” Uthvir insists, hastily. Please, no, not the barracks…

“The barracks are also unacceptable, in your case,” Master Thenerassan tells them. As if he could read their mind. They wobble in place a little, still missing the floor. Except, bit by bit, they’re starting to wonder if they’re floating rather than sinking. If this is a good feeling, rather than a bad one.

“Fortunately, there is a room by my garden that I do not use,” their teacher continues. “It has its own door to the outside, so there is no need for us to disturb one another. I’ll expect you to have your things moved over there by the end of today. Otherwise, you should focus on your studies until I leave. There will be no more chores until Master Venavismi assigns you some, after I have gone, to try and make up for some of the imbalanced time.”

Uthvir stares.

…What?

As Master Thenerassan looks back at them expectantly, they remember themselves yet again. Dropping into another hasty bow.

“That is too kind!” they insist.

“I think I have explained why it is not,” Master Thenerassan retorts, quietly. Almost more to himself than to him, they think. Before they can think of how to respond, he motions at them to sit up again, using his fan to gesture. “Stop bowing. And finish that plate of food, you are much too malnourished. I have some training manuals for you and Desire, I expect you to give hers to her before I go. Master Venavismi will give you guidance if you need it, but I should still point you in the right direction, so I expect you both to read these manuals while I am gone…”

Uthvir listens. They really do, even though it also still feels like they’re floating away in shock and confusion. They sit in Master Thenerassan’s office, and eat sweets, and listen to birds, and are given two crisp new manuals to tuck under their arm, and a key to a room that leads onto Master Thenerassan’s own garden. They try the shed, first, thinking that makes more sense, but no. The key doesn’t fit there. Instead it opens a door to a quiet little space that looks like it was originally meant to be a meditation room. Uthvir doesn’t know why Master Thenerassan would dislike it enough to not use it; there is a lot of pleasant light and fresh scents from the garden. But someone has put a new bedroll into the corner, along with a chest for keeping clothes in.

Uthvir leaves in a daze to go and get their things. It doesn’t take long, they don’t have very much. The little room still seems sparse and empty as they set down their blanket and put away their spare uniform, and use the extra drawers to hold all their training material and their little tin of healing salve.

Moving their belongings reminds them of what’s missing from the count of items.

It’s a sad thing in with several confusing-but-ostensibly-good things. So Uthvir’s not sure how it works out that they end up sitting on their blanket in a corner of the strange room, with their knees up their chest, crying as quietly as they can.

And when they’ve finished, they feel tired all over again. Even though they overslept already. Their bones feel hollowed out, and the lack of comforting weight at their neck still seems wrong, but… but, as they settle their damp cheeks against their knees, a wave of relief washes over them. It feels the same way that the air does after a storm has broken. And so, with instinctive desire, and a strange sense of balance, they fold themselves into a meditative pose and settle more deliberately into their corner. Closing their eyes as they focus on their breathing, and then on the flow of their spiritual energy.

Their teacher instructed them to practice.

Even if nothing else makes sense, Uthvir supposes that this, at least, probably should.

Thenvunin can’t help but fretting, when the day actually arrives for him to leave and head for the caves.

It still seems like a good plan. Or maybe just the best he can come up with. But there seem to be endless complications to everything. He had assumed things would get simpler once he wasn’t getting ‘dinged’ by the OOC Lock anymore - and in a sense, that really is a benefit. What he’d failed to consider, though, was that there might still be consequences for acting ‘strangely’.

Case in point - the first morning after the lock had worn off, no less than three of the original Thenerassan’s colleagues had asked if he was ‘feeling alright’. Master Tasallir had looked at him as if he might be having some kind of manic episode, one of the peak’s healers had just ‘swung by’ to check on the currents of his spiritual energy, and then Uthvir had seemed positively terrified during a simple interview where all he tried to do was fix their bullying issue and move them to a better place to sleep at night.

He had scared them witless and he didn’t even know how.

They still seem uncertain around him. Thenvunin has been giving them space - and that hasn’t been hard, at the end of the day. He has plenty to deal with in trying to wrangle the other disciples at the moment, who are even more confused that their ‘teacher’ has started behaving differently. At least that makes some sense, though, because Thenvunin isn’t particularly trying to be nice to them.

Oh, he’s not being cruel. But being ‘too nice’ to Squish reads in a way that makes his skin crawl, considering the Original Thenerassan’s ‘niceness’ towards her. And as for his bully students, well, obviously there’s a need to backtrack on some of the damage that’s been done to their values and discipline. Which means actually punishing them for being vicious little beasts.

Thenvunin’s never been a teacher. He went to school, once, for about four years when his health was good. Otherwise it was all homeschooling. So he even finds himself pouring through the Original Thenerassan’s notes, not because he thinks it would be a good thing to emulate the man on a lot of things, but because it… at least gives him an idea of what he’s working with? And what the general structure of things should maybe look like. Unfortunately, most of the Original’s notes just read like the diary entries of some kind of madcap social climber. Who has good connections, who has money, who has relatives who’ve ascended, and things like that.

Otherwise, he didn’t seem to bother with a lot of necessary work.

Thenvunin ends up going to Master Tasallir, who is an ascended scribe and the person in charge of the peak’s records and archives, and mustering up an excuse of losing some of his teaching materials in order to access back-up records in the archives. Tasallir still seems to think he might be deranged, but less than he had before, when Thenvunin had attempted to offer him an actual friendly greeting.

The man does make him nervous, though. He can’t even remember reading about him from the original book, and yet for some reason he is… unreasonably good-looking? Like someone cast him out of precious metals and ivory and then brought him to life via wishes. He is quite possibly the most meticulously groomed person Thenvunin has seen on the entire peak, which is saying something, and every time her speaks to Thenvunin he looks like someone has jammed half a lemon in his mouth.

Thenvunin cannot take it personally. He thinks he would look the same way at the Original Thenerassan, and has no idea what sorts of transgressions his alter-ego might have committed before Thenvunin pulled a body snatch on him.

But the long and short of it is that he spends several days running around in a mad panic, earning no points and feeling as if he is somehow just making everything worse, as he tries to actually teach his students and beseeches the other mentors at the peak for assistance and is perpetually asked if his ‘spiritual equilibrium’ is alright.

So on balance, despite his nervousness over leaving - and what could go wrong in his absence, if that little villain Elandaris gets his hands on Uthvir again - he thinks the trip will be good.

He can study, He can practice his abilities. He can make plans. He can come back, and hope that any major shifts in his ‘general temperament’ might be attributed to a successful trip; like the way some people seem to come back from vacations with entirely new outlooks on life. Or maybe, if he gives them a few days, people will start to forget what the Original was really like. Even just a little bit.

…That’s a long shot, but he can hope.

One silver lining to the whole scenario that he hadn’t even anticipated is that, since he is going to a section of the sacred caves that is not typically used by Quiet Peak, Lady Mana’Din gives him a map of the cave system with his path outlined for him. She also gives him a special pass key, which is little more than a strip of paper with a password written on it. But when Thenvunin presents it to the waterfall opening of the cave system, the water parts, and the entrance is revealed to him; and every other path along the way is also opened by his innocuous-seeming strip of paper.

Thenvunin begins to feel some unease about the situation as he makes his way to the cavern system of Battle Peak.

He’s never been in a cave before. Only really seen them on television and in movies, which doesn’t really do the darkness of them justice. Not that there’s no light; openings up towards the surface let in bright shafts of daylight, but any time a cloud rolls past them, they darken. And there are some lanterns, but still, they don’t illuminate everything. Many passageways seem shrouded in a deep darkness, and the darkness feels strange to him.

Old, somehow.

It reminds him of the practice that some peaks have of binding cursed spirits and demons beneath mountains. Like the dungeons below a castle. Thenvunin does not see anything, or hear anything, or even feel anything more than the odd sense of the ‘energy’ in the place. There are pools of calm, and waterfalls of light, and there are small bodies of still water - clear, somehow - and there is darkness.

Only the darkness bothers him, until he thinks about how much time he is going to be spending here.

Then he is very glad that he brought along so many books.

Every so often he passes a cave that he suspects is occupied, but he doesn’t see any occupants until he gets to the segment of the map that marks the Battle Peak system. He doesn’t get lost or turned around too many times, thankfully. The caves are supposed to be a ‘natural’ place, but they do still have markers for the pilgrims that come.

When Thenvunin is the Battle Peak system, he passes by a small chamber. Filled, unexpectedly, with daylight. An unfamiliar figure mediates in the middle of the room. They do not seem to take note of Thenvunin’s passage, and after a while, he decides it would be best just to leave them to their self-reflection.

Other than that, he doesn’t see anyone until he’s actually made it to the cavern allotted to him.

The space is something of a relief. Though it’s still obviously a cave, it has light. Not as much as the one he saw the meditating disciple in, but enough to give him a glimpse of the sky through the high opening. Water trickles down one side of the cavern wall, and some moss is growing around the opening. Thenvunin can feel the air move a little.

It startles him, how much of a relief that is. Like a friendly touch that he had missed without knowing, ever since he came inside the caves. He moves to the middle of the chamber, and takes a deep breath. Spreading his arms out and feeling the air across his face.

I can do this.

Though after a moment, it occurs to him that he isn’t entirely sure how to start.

The meditation he witnessed earlier rises in his memory, and after a moment, he supposes that’s as good a place to begin as any. He sets the bag he brought into a corner of the cave - Master Venavismi had blinked at the sight of it before he left, asking if it wasn’t traditional to take nothing at all; but Thenvunin managed to say it was only for the trip - and then he settles in a good spot to feel the breeze, and begins.

Once he starts in on things, he finds that, like with the leaves he had thrown at Elandaris, many things are more like waking up a memory than trying to attempt something new. Even though Thenvunin is sure he’s never done any of them before. He manages to pass several hours without feeling like he’s been in a hard stone cave for that long; not noticing the memory of hunger, or feeling pain from the cold stone floor. He alternates between mediation and cultivation, practice and pondering. He takes breaks to read some of the manuals he brought and makes notes, and notices the light changing from day to night, before the habit of sleeping catches up with him.

But that just leaves him feeling antsy and uncertain. And in too much darkness to read anymore.

Sounds from one of the other chambers draws his attention. Thenvunin considers that it might be wise to watch some of the other disciples here, to see what they’re doing. To figure out what he should be doing. He gets up, and dusts himself off, and heads back out of the chamber. A little wandering leads him to a side passage, that descends right down next to the cavern he was in. That’s where the sounds seem to be coming from, along with the steady trickle of running water. He makes his way down, hesitating when the distant lantern light fades, and he has to proceed in darkness. But it only lasts for a short while, before he sees a light at the end of the passage.

The sounds become clearer. It sounds like someone… groaning? Sparring, perhaps? Thenvunin almost thinks for half a second that he’s about to walk in on something inappropriate instead, with the heavy nature of the panting that he hears, but… serious disciples of Battle Peak wouldn’t use the sacred caves for trysts, would they?

That would be too scandalous!

Thenvunin’s face feels hot at the thought, and he’s definitely hoping he doesn’t see anything untoward at all as he reaches the bottom, and takes a look around.

The first thing he notes is that there is only one person in the chamber. It’s a wide space, bigger than the one he had been in, but with more dark patches. A lone disciple is standing just off to one side, with his back towards the passage. His shoulders are hunched; and he is the source of the heavy breaths.

Thenvunin hesitates. Something niggles at the back of his mind, a sense of something he should know, but also a rush of reflexive worry. Thoughts of being in hospitals, of seeing other sick and injured and struggling people.

This man is unwell?

And then the system provides him with a name, hovering in text just below the stranger’s shoulder. Like a caption in a film.

Thenvunin freezes.

All the colour drains out of his face as sudden recognition dawns.

Oh no. Oh no. No, he remembers this now! From when the original Thenerassan was discredited in the story! Battle Peak’s champion was Thenerassan’s rival while they were students, serving under the same teacher. They had bitterly despised one another, and Thenerassan had nursed a grudge ever since the fallout of their constant fighting had seen their teacher hand his tutelage over to Mana’Din at Quiet Peak, in order to separate them. Bitterness at being the one chosen to leave rather than stay, Thenvunin had assumed.

A spark of hatred that had bloomed into an opportunistic murder, when Thenerassan had gone to the sacred caves for self-reflection, and found Calain lost to the haze of spiritual imbalance. A training method gone badly awry. At the time, the murder was considered self-defense; Calain had lashed out and in defending himself, Thenerassan had killed him by mistake. But as the black marks on his reputation grew, it became clear that the murder was deliberate. Calain’s state only provided a plausible excuse.

And Master Calain’s sister was a member of Uthvir’s harem. One of their favourite wives, even. So of course, Uthvir had taken great care to avenge the death of her brother, along with every other payment they drew from Thenerassan’s blood.

I can’t be here, Thenvunin thinks, all at once. He turns to leave but in his hurry, and the dark, a loose pebble flies away from his shoe.

Calain turns. Ragged and wild, like an animal. Thenvunin feels a rush of shock as he sees his skin mottled with darkness, as if covered in dozens of bruises. He can scarcely take in anything else about the man, as fear overwhelms him, and he moves to keep running.

Calain makes a sharp motion. There’s a flash of warning. Reflexes alone save Thenvunin as he leaps back, and barely avoids the sword that cuts across his path.

<Dawn’s Radiance>, the system helpfully tags it.

I don’t care about the names of swords right now! What am I supposed to do?! Thenvunin wonders back. He doesn’t get an answer, isn’t even really expecting anything that helpful, before Calain roars at him and charges. His sword whipping through the air and flying to his hand, as his eyes gleam with wild, erratic energy.

Thenvunin flees in the opposite direction.

“Calain!” he tries, as the two of them begin to race in circles around the chamber. “Calain, it’s me, Thenvunin!”

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Calain roars.

Right, yes, no, the Original Thenerassan may have known him but they weren’t on good terms. Familiarity isn’t going to help. Thenvunin keeps running, and dodging the occasional onslaughts of Calain’s sword, as he tries desperately to think. I need to get help!

He attempts to turn back up the passageway, but the sword blocks his path. And then it cuts towards him, and in a sudden, vivid moment of clarity, Thenvunin knows that if he doesn’t do exactly the right thing right this second, he is going to be speared on that blade.

Before he can really think about it, about what he knows or what he can or can’t do, he turns, and in a smooth motion, draws Swan’s Grace.

The blocking move comes effortlessly. Calain’s sword strikes against his own with enough force to push him backwards, but even though there’s a ton of energy behind it, it’s erratic and unfocused. Thenvunin narrows his eyes, and in a sharp, deliberate gesture, knocks the weapon out of the grasp of Calain’s distorted spiritual energy, and sends it clattering across the chamber.

Right in time for the weapon’s owner to charge him like a zombie from a horror film.

Thenvunin’s ready, though. He feels impossibly calm - like he’s floating out of this body again, like he’s just a director telling it what they need to accomplish - as he turns the flat of his blade to deflect part of Calain’s charge, and then smashes a palm up the underside of his jaw. The energy around them ripples, and Thenvunin’s own bats his attacker away with a rush of wind that howls through the chamber.

Calain smacks against the cavern wall; Thenvunin immobilizes him quickly, enabled mostly, he thinks, but the pure chaos of the other man’s aura, and the incoherence of his intentions. He sits on his back to hold him down, while Calain bucks, and keeps Swan’s Grace ready to deflect in case he should manage to summon his sword again.

But then, reality sinks back in, and Thenvunin is once again at a loss.

What… what he should do?

He can’t hold Calain down forever. But he can’t kill him, either. Even if it weren’t for the situation with Uthvir later on, Thenvunin’s never killed a person before. Trying to tell himself that Calain’s only a fictional character doesn’t seem to work very well. Not when he’s spasming and struggling like a very real, ill man, caught in some kind of terrible seizure.

“Help!” he tries calling. “We need assistance! Is anyone there?”

He thinks he hears something, or maybe a few things. But minutes pass and Calain is getting harder to restrain, and the bruising on his skin is looking worse by the minute, unless that’s just Thenvunin’s imagination. But it seems almost like… like he’s changing. Like the imbalance is…

Oh.

Oh, no. He remembers now. Imbalance one’s energies bad enough, and death can result. Calain body is being destroyed by the energies inside of it. Like a cancer.

But as Thenvunin remembers that, he also finds himself remembering something else. One of Uthvir’s wives went through something similar, didn’t she? Sabotaged in her training by a rival. But Uthvir saved her. In the sort of novel that Immortal Demon Way was, not saving their own wife wouldn’t have fit the power fantasy bill. So Uthvir had used their own spiritual equilibrium to restore hers. Thenvunin even remembers the description of the technique, although he also recalls it being described as very dangerous and liable to damage both parties if it backfires…

It’s seeing Calain spit up a mouthful of blood that finally makes up his mind.

“For the record, I’ve never done this before. So if it doesn’t work, I am sincerely trying,” he says.

Then he summons up his focus, and presses his fingers to specific points on Calain’s back. Digging in, and mustering up the energy he needs, and feeling out what the over-abundance of energy in the other man is. Then he starts channeling in a counter-balance from his own stores.

It feels strange. Like bleeding, almost, but not quite. Thenvunin’s arms tingle and his focus blurs a little. But he takes calm, steady breaths. If there’s one thing he does know, it’s how it feels when something’s going wrong in his body. And this feels tiring, and risky, but not like he’s committed a disaster yet. A soft glow emanates from his touch. He’s so focused, that he doesn’t notice when Calain stops struggling.

He does notice when the mottling on his skin begins to fade, though.

Thenvunin keeps up the process until he feels like he’s starting to lose his own balance. And then he finally pulls his hand away, and stops.

There’s a long moment of utter silence.

Then the system chimes in.

<Congratulations! You have successfully completed a character quest. +50.>

Fifty points? Just fifty, for all that? Thenvunin doesn’t know if he’s more surprised that he got anything at all, or offended that this was somehow worth fewer points than just stealing poor Uthvir’s treasured necklace.

Calain turns, and looks at him with eyes that seem bloodshot, but otherwise normal.

“What?” he says. “Thenvunin?”

He sounds simultaneously offended and bewildered. Thenvunin figures he can let the other man go, now, and does. Only starting to release him before Calain is shoving him off in return, and moving warily away from him.

Thenvunin folds his arms, unable to fight back his annoyance. It might be understandable that almost everyone hates him, here, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t getting sick of it, too.

“What’s that look for?” he demands. “I just saved your life! That was a risky move, you know. I’ve never done anything like that before. And you were trying to kill me the entire time, too!”

Calain’s brow furrows. He looks confused.

Thenvunin curses his luck.

“Oh please don’t tell me you have short-term memory loss?” he snaps. That would be his luck, wouldn’t it?

The comment seems to smooth out some of Calain’s features, though. The other man extends one arm outward, and Dawn’s Radiance flies back into it. Thenvunin stiffens; but after a second, Calain only sheaths the blade back at his hip.

“I remember,” he says, clipped and obviously still wary.

The two of them stare one another down.

“...Why?” Calain finally asks, breaking the silence.

Thenvunin straightens out his clothes, which had been sent somewhat askew by the fight, and hesitates on how to reply.

“Why what?” he asks, in the end.

It just seems to make Calain more annoyed, though.

The effect is somewhat undermined by the fact that the man is bizarrely pretty, though. Thenvunin is beginning to wonder what’s going on with that. When he read the book, he had sort of imagined Master Calain as being a rugged, muscles-upon-muscles, thick-and-hairy warrior type. Barrel-chested and stocky and square-jawed, the sort of man who fought bears under waterfalls. But on reflection, he supposed that the man’s reputation had been described more than his looks. And his sister, Calantha, was a remarkable beauty; dainty and fair, and actually described in an atypical amount of physical detail.

On that reflection, Thenvunin realizes that Calain looks essentially like a male version of her. He’s still obviously fit and broad-shouldered, taller than Thenvunin himself. But he’s delicate-looking too, with a princely sort of countenance. A pretty face, long eyelashes, soft mouth…

The contrast between expectation and reality is a little unnerving.

Still. Calain is glaring, and he does at least have the eyebrows to pull that off.

“Why would you do that?” he asks, looking Thenvunin up and down. As if he’s half expecting some vipers to suddenly come soaring out of his pockets or something.

Thenvunin sighs, internally, and reminds himself that there’s no point in getting annoyed. People are just going to be suspicious. The only person to blame for it isn’t here, because Thenvunin has taken his place.

“I’ve been… thinking about a lot of things,” he says. “Things I regret. About the past. About who I’ve been. I don’t want to be that person anymore, Calain. I’m trying to bury the Thenvunin Thenerassan you knew, and do a better job with the future than he ever would have. I would like to turn over a new leaf.”

Calain looks suspicious, still.

After a few more minutes of staring contests, Thenvunin gives up. He feels bad, now. Tired. Here he was supposed to be building up his spiritual energy, and now he’s set himself back instead. Not that he regrets it. After a moment he finds himself looking Calain over again, and while the other man may still be expecting some kind of trick…

Thenvunin just saved his life.

Maybe he can be proud of that, even if no one else is?

“I’m in the cave at the top of the passage,” he mentions, gesturing. “If you run into difficulties again, come and find me.”

Calain’s expression wavers, while Thenvunin starts to head up. It’s only then that he finally hears the sound of voices calling. Battle Peak disciples approaching from the opposite end of Calain’s chamber, by the sounds of it. After a moment of considering, Thenvunin just decides to keep going. Let them look after Calain, now. They’re his colleagues and he’s probably more comfortable with that anyway.

After a while he hears Calain finally turn and answer the calls, and then the voices move further than Thenvunin can properly hear. He finishes making his way back up the passage, and heads into his own cavern again. Settling down, reviewing the last manual he read, and focusing on figuring out just what all he did to himself, and how he should probably reverse it.

It’s good practice, he tells himself.

Come morning, he has changed his mind entirely. Exerting that much energy in such a strange way was absolutely not worth it. He should have just killed Calain. Maybe this sadistic system would have given him more points. Probably, he thinks. And then he wouldn’t be feeling like someone filled his head with bees and tied all of his muscles into knots.

The second day he gives up on progressing a few times in favour of just quietly weeping in the corner of his cavern.

Eventually, though, Thenvunin finds himself getting back on track. The buzzing in his skull abates, and he manages to smooth out all the aches in his own body, with a deliberateness that makes him envious even while he’s doing it. If only he could have done this while he was alive! Just - fix himself! Heal himself, oh, that would have been a dream come true. The number of nights he had spent awake wishing he could just will his bones better…

It makes him a little emotionally unbalanced. He has to start some things over again, and switches to sword practice for a while instead.

A few times, he thinks about going to check on Calain. But he hears no more strange noises, and after a while, he decides against it. He doesn’t want to jinx it, he managed to get away without killing the man this time, but what if testing his luck just means he ends up doing the whole thing over again?

Sometimes he can tell, without really seeing, that there are other disciples moving around the caves. But mostly, things just stay quiet, and never sees anyone. Hears things, feels things, but doesn’t see things. He forces himself to put his attention to what he needs to do, what he came for. After a while he loses track of time entirely, but, he still has a strong sense that he should stay put for now.

Until, one evening, he abruptly finds that he doesn’t anymore.

Time to go.

Without sparing much thought to question it, Thenvunin gathers up his things. He hesitates, warring with himself over it; but then he turns towards the passageway leading down to the big chamber. It’s still daylight outside the caves, and that makes him feel bolder, even though it doesn’t change the light levels in the passage any.

When he makes his way down, he sees Calain sitting on a flattened stone in the chamber. Eyes closed.

“Brother,” he calls. “I’m leaving. Just so you know. Good luck with the rest of your endeavours.”

It would have been irresponsible, Thenvunin thinks, to just leave without letting the man know that a potential source of help had gone.

Calain doesn’t give any acknowledgement of having heard him or not.

After a minute, Thenvunin can’t help but sniff in annoyance. Muttering a little to himself about rude people and ingrates before turning on his heel and making his way all the way back up that damn passage again, before consulting his map to find the quickest route out.

Once he’s out, getting back to Quiet Peak will be simpler than leaving it. He can just use his energy to fly his way there on his sword. A genre trope that always seemed a little odd to him, but when he tested it out during one of his attempts to master a few basic abilities, he suddenly discovered the appeal.

Of flying, at least.

The map leads him to an opening that heads straight up and out of a wide side passage. Thenvunin takes it, and lets out an audible sigh of relief as he finally comes clear of the cavern rock and breaks out into the trees and open air again. A slightly frigid wind blowing past him, carrying just the faintest hints of snow, while the trees sway. He lets his energy carry him up above the tops of them, as he stretches his arms out again.

That was a success, he thinks. He does feel somewhat better about himself and his abilities now. Even if that whole debacle with Calain still feels vaguely traumatic.

He turns towards Quiet Peak…

…And halts, going cold all over again.

Flames lick upwards from the direction of the temple. While the sky towards the opposite horizon is grey, closer to the peak, the air shimmers with an eerie red light. The next gust of wind that blows his way carries ash instead of snow, and right as he sees it, he hears the first distant chime of the temple’s alarm bells.

He forgot.

How could he forget?!

The attack! The attack on the temple, when Uthvir was fifteen. One of the most formative moments in Uthvir’s pre-Hell development, one of the first ‘big’ fights, a pivotal moment before the tournament that actually seemed to make the story really kick off the ground.

The attack!

Demons have come to Quiet Peak.

#scum villain au #sharkbait #cliffhanger warning #i really wanted to post something #most of my writing efforts have not gone well but!#i am still trying and this was the best success i've had lately #so here you go guys hope somebody likes it #long post

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