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bonsaiiiiiii-fics · 3 years

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FabFiveFeb 2021 - Virgil week (3)

prompts: a question, “I don’t understand”

Part 1 | Part 2

oooooookokokokokkkkk i know a looot of time had passed and probably everyone forgot about this, but with the hiatus and co i couldn’t post earlier, soooo, yeah, there you go. i highly recommend you reread part 1 and 2 again so you get the idea of what i wrote here. that said, enjoy this finale!

tagging: the host of the amazing challenge, @gumnut-logic (high-key sorry i’m so late hope you don’t squish me too much), and whoever showed interest in the last 2 parts, such as @nourelle-tracy @louthestarspeaker @weirdburketeer @janetm74 @lenna-z @cg29 @psychoticalienjackie @godsliltippy @melmac78 @plushiecuddler @dragonoffantasyandreality @brinalm @vegetacide @katblu42 @rachfielden-xo (yes i’m tagging everyone who liked the precedent parts what about it, fighT ME)

Scott sat for the umpteenth time in the umpteenth hospital chair, heartbroken. His mind was full of thoughts and if he even thought he had to express them out loud he would almost certainly scream.

Virgil was just standing there, sleeping like nothing happened, except for his bandaged right shoulder and some superficial bruising from the climb, which he shouldn’t have done, by the way.

His father was very angry with Virgil, but he had hidden it behind a quite thick veil of concern, which hit him too when the surgeon who removed the bullet embedded in his shoulder announced that the patient had also entered into fibrillation. Also, as if getting shot wasn’t enough. Now he was in a forced coma, to allow his body to heal without complications; he did not risk his life, however, so even if life support was taken away there was no high risk.

Jeff had gone down to the cafeteria to get some coffee, Alan along with him, probably to binge eat as usual; Scott had never understood why Alan could eat so much in situations like these, as if his stomach didn’t care that his older brother was in the hospital.

Scott, on the other hand, remained there, by his side, brooding as usual, starving as usual, worrying as usual.

Although their father had finally returned and immediately took over the reins of the International Rescue, it was still difficult for Scott to let himself go altogether, and return to the role of operator within IR. He often thought about it, how could he abandon a role he had become accustomed to and had made his own for 8 years? The commanding role, which had fallen on his head the day after his father disappeared, along with the various responsibilities that followed.

He thought about it, yeah, and he kept thinking about it, and there was always an answer in his mind, even if it wasn’t the right one. I can’t. His brain always told him that, like a mantra. You can’t.

Jeff somehow understood that, from the day he was rescued, the moment Scott girded his hips with his arm to get him back on the road home. Scott also noticed it, because every time Jeff spoke to him, he looked at him. He looked at him with a gentle, but also a bit authoritarian look. Don’t worry anymore, my son, you don’t need to take on responsibilities that aren’t yours anymore. And he told him without the need to open his mouth, so powerful was a look.

Scott at that moment opened his eyes, and in front of him was Virgil, who was asleep. He was asleep, but it was wrong. He couldn’t sleep now.

"Hey Virg." He tried whispering, like it was a crime to talk to a coma patient out loud. He didn’t get an answer.

"You know? I understand why you disobeyed orders. I don’t think it’s my own reason; it’s just that you care about everyone, unconditionally. You’ve always been the most empathetic of us, like...." he took a little breath. "... mom."

A slight sigh. Jeff would be back any minute. "Who knows how Mom is, eh, Virg? I don’t even want to think that you might be with her right now, because if you are, it means that everything is not good for you. And I...I need you. You must have noticed this, as empathetic as you are." He smiled involuntarily.

He heard a faint noise of footsteps coming from the hallway. "Now I must leave you, Virg. If I don’t get a coffee, I might pass out for a few weeks." He hated leaving his brother alone, but he really needed coffee or a good night’s sleep. The couple of times he left his younger brother alone was to go to a short shower. Of course, International Rescue was off-duty, and it would stay like that until Thunderbird 2 was back on line. None of the brothers worked well when one of them wasn’t there. And Jeff understood that. He understood them.

Scott slowly rose from the uncomfortable chair on which he had also spent many nights, putting a hand on his forehead in the process. He took one last look at Virgil, then left the room, John taking over.

The redhead put his left hand on his brother's shoulder, the other arm leaning against the wall, not yet fully accustomed to Earth’s gravity, and Scott smiled feebly back, then went to the cafeteria. Now it was John’s turn to observe his brother.

Virgil glanced at the snow, occasionally touching it with a finger or moving it with the tip of his shoe. They were both back out, and the air, although it was cold from the snow, did not seem to freeze him at all. "Mom...I have a feeling there’s something I desperately need to know."

Lucille looked at him, smiling. Her skin was very white, like snow. "How is that saying? If you don’t remember it, it means it wasn’t important."

"It is! It’s a person..." Virgil placed his hand on his forehead, closing his eyes and trying to remember.

She looked at him, her hands clenched on her chin and her elbows on her thighs. She had always liked to watch her son think. He had this habit of ruffling his eyebrows and bending a corner of his mouth down as he thought. All of them were different when they were thinking. Scott narrowed his eyes and pulled out his deadly dimples, unwittingly bending an angle of the mouth upwards, John always kept a neutral face, while Gordon had the habit of covering his mouth with the fist of his hand. And Alan...she never had time to find it out.

Usually Lucille could not possibly interfere with the natural course of things, but now it was essential for Virgil to return to his family. Get back to life. This would have been just...a shortcut to get to the final path. A path to which Virgil would have to come on his own, and fight for himself.

"Do you miss your father?" By now she had thrown the stone. Now it was up to Virgil to take it, retrieve the last piece of the puzzle to make it complete, and to ensure himself a way out. And of life.

"Yes..." Virgil replied, with a sad but strong voice. "Sometimes I feel like he’s back...I feel like I hear him..." The piece was slowly getting stuck. "I feel..." The last memory fell on him, like an avalanche. An avalanche that he could feel.

Lucille smiled at him, aware of what his son was about to reveal to her.

"He’s alive! He’s back..." Virgil began to stutter, the memory of his father, sitting at his desk, with gray hair and wrinkles marked by the age, but he did not remember the emotion felt in taking him back, in bringing him home from space.

His heart started beating too fast. So fast that even the Virgil who fought on the hospital bed had the heart that galloped too hard for the tastes of the multiparametric monitor, which began to beep hastily, alarming his doctors, who entered the room en masse.

Virgil took a few short breaths, calming down, but this was not enough because, as he had heard, he was in 'critical conditions’ caused by a 'seizure'. Or at least that’s what he heard.

"Virgil," his mother’s voice took him away from his thoughts, a voice as sweet as the face looking at him.

"I have to go back, Mom." He was quick to answer.

She nodded and smiled. "Don’t you want to be here with me anymore?"

He smiled too. "Now not anymore, I understood what I wanted and I solved what I had to solve." He took a short breath, while she nodded. "Thank you, Mom, for taking care of me one last time..." He was ready to say goodbye.

Almost as if she had intercepted his thoughts, she was immediately ready to answer. "Always remember...that I will never leave, child. I will always be here when you want to talk to me." She put her hand on his chest, right where his heart was beating. "I will always listen to you, even if I cannot answer you."

His big hand covered her hand, holding it tightly. "Thank you." He looked at her. "How do I get back?"

Her face immediately became serious, and her hand moved away from her heart. "You must fight...your fear."

"What...?" That’s when he realized he could feel something. Almost afraid, he turned slowly towards the avalanche behind him...that moved quickly towards his direction.

He suddenly felt nauseous, and he quickly turned to his mother, expecting a smiling face and maybe hearing her say that all this was a joke, because she had the habit of always joking, the same habit that Gordon too had. At that moment, however, he did not know what was scarier, whether the avalanche that threatened to overwhelm him at any moment or his mother’s frightened face.

"There is no other way...?" His voice was very weak.

"No, I’m sorry...and you don’t have much time left..."

"So you expect me to run into an avalanche?"

"I expect you to overcome your fear, to save yourself."

Words so simple, but at the same time incredibly powerful, that they had the effect of a slap in the face. He had tried to save his mother, but all this time he had been under the avalanche. Overwhelmed by fear.

He looked seriously at his mother, who understood, kissing him quickly on the cheek, then he got up and took a running start, charging it with all the fear that, he was certain, will never go away completely. Then he ran, ran to fight his monster, screaming with all his voice in his body, his battle cry.

He entered the avalanche.

Then...

All white.

“Thank you, I was really hungry.” Virgil replied, looking happily at the pizza that Gordon had smuggled to him.

“Heh, don’t get caught.” His copilot winked back at him.

“By the doctors?”

“That too, but by Scott! God know we’ll both get a good piece of talk if he finds out!”

“His favorite man needs carbohydrates.”

“‘His favorite man’ my ass!” Scott entered the room, showing his killer dimples and his pearly white smile. “Did you think you’d eat pizza without me?” The eldest took a slice of pizza, handed it to Virgil, then took another one for himself.

“That was the intent.” Gordon replied, earning a smack in the back of his neck from Scott.

“Have a nice meal too, guys.” Virgil responded with a laugh.

He was about to bite into his beloved pizza, when a black and white butterfly came in through the open window, resting on Virgil’s fingers.

Mom…

-END-

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writing-freak · 4 years

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BNHA Soulmate AU Week Day 4: Save Your Soul

(GIF credit to its owner!!! :) )

Takami Keigo (Hawks) x Reader

Word Count: 1,373

A/N: It’s day 4 of my bnha soulmate au week!! Today’s fic, featuring this cutie, is an au where there are colorful marks on your skin where your soulmate touches you for the first time. Reader has a pair of hands on their waist! They turn black when the soulmate touches them. I love this boy so much, and I had such a fun time writing this, so I hope you guys like it! Remember, I’m taking soulmate au headcannon and imagine requests for BNHA characters in addition to the 3 other fics I have planned for this week! Stay tuned, tomorrow I have a cute drawing one with the lovable idiot, Kaminari! I also have some headcannons for Shinsou and Aizawa coming this evening! If you want to be added to this week’s taglist, or have a request, let me know! Thanks for reading!! :))

Masterlist

Unlike most, you were dreading the day you met your soulmate. You lived in a world in which people wore their soulmarks proudly, and it wasn’t uncommon to find bright marks dotting people’s faces, arms, necks, collarbones. Your mother had a soulmark on her right shoulder, which matched your father’s marks on the tips of his left fingers. You always found her wearing clothes that displayed the dark handprint (dark once it had been touched), never wanting to cover it up.

You, on the other hand, didn’t like people to see your soulmark. Because instead of a handprint on your shoulder, a mark on your hands that you’ve shook, or a brush on your arm where you bump into each other on the street, you had a very different soulmark. Just above your hips, on the sides of your waist, were two big handprints, grabbing you from behind.

You didn’t exactly know the context of when or where or under what circumstances your soulmate would grab you by the hips, but you also weren’t stupid, and the only guesses you could come up with involved your soulmate being some kind of perv. So no, you weren’t looking forward to meeting them.

And it wouldn’t be until you met them that you changed your mind.

You weren’t expecting it to be such a lively day when you woke up that morning, deciding real quick to take a last minute trip to the grocery store before your friends came for dinner that afternoon. It was a pretty mundane morning, to be quite honest, and the most out-of-the-ordinary thing you did was deciding to have a bowl of cereal instead of just your daily cup of coffee for breakfast.

It was sunny out (that was a nice change from the rain you’d been stuck in all week), so you had no problem walking the fifteen minutes or so to the store. It was a decision you made when you were about halfway there that, looking back, may have not been the best choice.

The streets were crowded - it appeared everyone had the same idea as you - and you were becoming uncomfortable with the massive groups. You saw a smaller street ahead, one you recognized from when you had lived in the area as a child, and decided to take a little shortcut (it could hardly be called a shortcut, about ten minutes out of the way).

As you turned onto the street, you realized it had changed a lot over the years. The houses that had once housed families with children your age looked abandoned, and the overgrowth of trees on the sides of the road blocked a lot of the sunlight.

You weren’t even halfway down the road when you decided you were going to turn back.

But when you spun around, quickly, before you could change your mind, you were met face to face with a man you hadn’t realized was right behind you.

There was a flash of pain, and you felt the man’s body connecting with yours. You were tackled off the street, and found yourself on the ground, rubbing your elbows where you had fallen on them. The man had leapt back, and he was facing you with a menacing grin on his face. You struggled to stand, facing the man, who, now that you looked at him, in his strange suit and mask hanging from his face, you realized was a villain.

You were frozen to the spot, unable to move as the villain stared you down. Unfortunately for you, the villain had tackled you into a dark alley, and since you hadn’t been on the main street anyway, you were worried that no one would see you, and no one would come to your rescue. But no matter how much you knew in that moment that your fate rested in your hands, you simply could not move, rooted to the spot by an intense fear sweeping over you.

But your theory about not being seen must have been wrong, for seconds later, you heard a pair of sweeping wings flying over you. You hoped and prayed it was a hero, or a helpful civilian, and not another villain, but based on the man in front of you’s reaction, it wasn’t someone he liked.

The villain lashed out with his quirk, and a pair of steel bars came flying at you. But you heard one more sweep of the wings, and a pair of arms grabbed your waist and flew you out of the way just before the bars could impale your chest.

Despite the circumstances, and your racing heart, your attention immediately went to the hands on your waist, which seemed to be radiating some sort of warmth, a warmth that spread through your entire body. And even as the hands left your waist to wrap around your body, lifting you from the ground to get you further away from the scene, the warmth never left, sending an unexpected sort of comfort with you as you and your savior took to the skies.

You had never liked heights, but it was over in an instant, and you were set onto solid ground (or so you thought, you were a little dizzy from the flight) within seconds. The arms left, and you jumped away, turning to finally get a good look at the person who had saved your life.

You certainly weren’t expected to see the number two pro hero Hawks, with his red wings spreading behind him, his mouth open and his eyes wide with shock.

But a sudden breeze blew over you, stronger than you were used to, and your attention was momentarily brought to your surroundings.

“Are we on a roof?” you asked incredulously, looking around you.

Your words seemed to break the hero in front of you out of his trance, and he frantically began tearing his black gloves off, looking at his hands in amazement. His gaze then shifted to you, and in the time you took to blink, he was right there, holding your waist as he pulled you closer.

“What are you doing?” But Hawks didn’t listen, and he was currently pulling your shirt up, which happened to be tucked into your jeans. Before you could try and push him off, your soulmarks were revealed, and while the wind on your bare skin was biting, as the man, now behind you, fit his fingers over the marks on your skin, where they fit perfectly, a warmth like before spread through you.

The marks had turned black in the time it had taken you to fly to the roof.

His hands were lifted from your skin, and then he was turning you around to face him. But you could only stare into his golden eyes with the same look he had given you before, your mouth hanging open in shock.

He looked more composed, and a sly sort of grin crossed his face as he narrowed his eyes at you. It was all consuming, his gaze, and you felt your breath knocked from your lungs as you couldn’t look away.

His smile never faded, even as he talked, and his eyes were glued to yours, permanently, it seemed. You were way too close for you to focus. “I have a feeling by the look on your face that you know who I am, little dove,” he said, the first words he spoke to you, his voice unexpectedly deep and husky. “But as much as I regret having to say this, I do not know you. Care to introduce yourself to me?”

You realized you couldn’t speak. But as Hawks looked at you expectantly, you cleared your throat. “I-I’m y/n.”

His smile grew wider, if at all possible. “What a lovely name, y/n. I do believe we are soulmates.” You realized suddenly that his arms were still at your sides.

“Don’t you have a patrol to be doing?” you asked nervously, feeling breathless as you felt the distance between your bodies closing, every so slowly.

“I would say that I have a pretty good excuse. It’s not every day you meet the person you’re going to spend the rest of your life with.”

Taglist: @anything-and-everything-here69 @engel-hageshii @mrsreina @pm4gal

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enigmainvestigations · 3 years

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ENI Season 1 Finale (episodes 8 - 14)

AO3 post: ??? Series link: ???

Episode 8 - A New Client

The man on the ground before him was out cold. Edward knelt and checked the hitman’s jacket pockets and found a pack of Lucky’s, which he pocketed. Next, he checked the man’s pants pockets, but those turned up empty. He pivoted on his feet to check the condition of the hitman behind him, hovering his hand near the man’s nostrils. This one’s breath was faster than the first, and Edward figured he must be coming to. But he didn’t need to worry too much about that; they all looked too beaten up to be much of a threat. Edward rolled the man over to get to his jacket pockets, and, as he did, the man groaned under his breath. Stuffing a hand into the man’s jacket, he found a small piece of paper. His eyes scanned it -- it looked like a phone number -- and he pocketed it to keep it out of the rain. Checking the other pocket in his jacket, Edward heard the man groan again. He looked down and saw the young man’s eyes staring up at him.

Edward grinned as he continued to search him. “First time, huh?”

The man moaned in pain, and rolled over, his motions stiff and weak. Edward patted him down, checking for a firearm. The man attempted to push his arm away, but Edward swatted at his hand to stop him. “Oh, stop complaining. Let me let you in on a little secret, it hurts much more the second day. I’d take it slow if I were you.”

Moving up on his feet, Edward made his way down the alley to the third hitman, who was also beginning to stir on the ground. Checking him, he pulled out a photograph from the man’s jacket. It was a photo of Edward himself -- it looked like it was taken on his night out at the local bars. A small smile crossed his lips, and he pocketed the photo; the man didn’t seem to care, instead focusing all his attention on an attempt to stop the blood gushing from his nose. As he stood, Edward looked down at the men who were writhing in pain, one rigidly attempting to sit up.

“Well boys, you’re on his bad side now. I wish you luck,” he tilted his hat to them, a wide grin on his face as he turned to head out of the alley.

He traveled away from the area, taking a few side routes just in case they’d gotten to their feet and made the idiotic decision to try to kill him a second time. He knew better than to assume the Bat had moved on. He was sure the dark figure was watching him, following him from above like a stalking predator. Edward assumed the Bat had left to see what he would do in his absence. It was a test, something he did frequently to observe people’s behavior. He hated to admit it, it was an intelligent move. But Edward hadn’t touched any of the men’s money, even though the thought had crossed his mind. He could consider it payment for trying to take his life. However, that wouldn’t have been a smart thing to do. If he’d done it, then the Bat would come after him once he was at a safe distance from the alley. That was still a possibility even now though, and his eyes scanned the rooftops around him as he walked and listened to his surroundings for any motion.

Edward hoped Batman wouldn’t reappear -- that whole encounter had been quite jarring and confusing. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that Batman would show up, let alone assist him. His mind kept trying to figure out why the vigilante had entered the fray. The logical answer was that it was because Edward was a civilian now, a citizen that had a hit out on him, and the Bat did what he always does in that situation. But that concept felt too simple, too foreign for him to accept. So, his mind continued to speculate what Batman’s play could’ve been.

He had to admit, it was quite frightening to see the man in action from a different perspective. The spine-chilling tales that surrounded Batman made more sense now. He could only imagine what that encounter must’ve been like from the perspective of a regular citizen. Edward had always seen Batman as a foe -- not quite an equal, but close. The fear he instilled in others had always been something he’d considered the woes of lesser men. But now, the chess pieces had moved, and they were both playing on a different board. Perhaps that was it: he was one of the lesser men now, a regular citizen that needed a phantom to swoop in to save him. Edward felt a wave of emotion hit him abruptly; the sensation of not belonging once again invaded his mind. He tried to keep himself focused on his route rather than waste the time letting it control his thoughts.

Edward couldn’t use the underground shortcut to return -- it was too risky with Batman tailing him. Instead, he opted to make the trip as boring as possible, especially now that he was too far for the men to follow. It made his walk longer, but he needed the time to think over the stark amount of new information he’d acquired.

Two of the hitmen had been young and inexperienced. The man he’d crossed paths with in the loading alley appeared just as surprised to see Edward as Edward was to see him. The thing about young and inexperienced hitmen is they’re cheap, and easy to find in Gotham. Ignorant boys trying to make some quick cash, though any real criminal in the city wouldn’t waste their time on them. Those two facts boded well for him. He was dealing with someone who didn’t know what they were doing, and surely this wouldn’t be the only mistake they made. Whoever they were, the need to hire hitmen showed they were afraid, and fear makes people do stupid things. Stupid things like tilting their hands too much, letting information slip, or jumping out into the open in an illogical attempt to hide. It was a human trait Edward had preyed on frequently during his criminal career, an easy emotion to exploit under the right circumstances.

However, what he hadn’t expected was that whoever this culprit was would take the drastic action of trying to kill him. Nothing in the evidence pointed to such behavior being a predictable reaction. To the culprit it was only a bunch of empty buildings, and he couldn’t fathom what payoff could be involved that would be worth murder. Then again, they were playing a dangerous game and were clearly out of their league. Edward poking his nose around might have been just enough to scare them into making such a silly mistake. Though, he doubted they knew very much about him, or they wouldn’t have been so foolish. Nor would they have made the classic mistake criminals did regularly in this city.

They didn’t hire one hitman, they’d hired three -- the logical fallacy that greater numbers mean a greater possible outcome of success. It was a mistake many in the underground made with the Bat. One guy with a gun couldn’t stop him, so get twenty guys with more guns and the plan will be successful. No one ever considered the obvious: the guns didn’t work, no matter how many you added to the scenario. The more men you used simply meant you wasted more money. It was a mistake he’d never made when dealing with Batman, and it was one of the first riddles about the man he’d solved.

Though, Edward wasn’t very happy about having a hit out on him. He was sick and tired of people trying to kill him, and the fact that he’d have to spend even more time looking over his shoulder just made him feel drained. As he crossed the bridge to the south island he checked his watch; it was three in the morning. Much later than he’d intended to be out, but it didn’t appear that anyone had seen him out and about -- anyone other than the Bat, that is. He could only hope Batman wouldn’t pull some passive-aggressive move and tip off some officer to his activities this evening. By the time he’d unlocked his office door, he was beginning to feel very exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, that he might not even have to drink tonight to get his mind to quiet down.

He was correct in that belief, and he didn’t have to lay on the couch for very long before sleep took him. His rest was deep, and by the time he was awoken by the ringing of the phone the next morning, he had impressions on his skin from the cushions on the couch. In a haze, he pulled the phone down beside him, picked up the handset, and rubbed his face, trying to wake up.

“Isn’t this late for your check-in call, officer?” he muttered into the phone.

There was a short pause on the line, “Excuse me?” Edward could hear quite a lot of noise through the phone, and the voice wasn’t officer Blue 334. “I’m sorry, is this Edward Nigma’s residence?”

Edward yawned, fumbling with his glasses on the floor beside him, “Yeah? Who is this?”

“This is officer Wilkes, I’m --”

“Ahh, Wilkes the snitch. How’re you this fine morning, Wilkes?” Edward propped his glasses on and ran a hand through his hair as he continued to wake.

“I-I’m fine?” He seemed confused by the question, but he cleared his throat in an attempt to regain his professional demeanor. “Mr. Nigma, I’m calling you on behalf of the Commissioner --”

“Is that right?” Edward interrupted.

“...Yes, he would like to speak with you, it concerns a case he’s investigating --”

Edward let out a groan of annoyance.

“-- he would like for you to come to his office this evening.” Wilkes finished, a slight twinge of irritation in his tone.

“This evening?” Edward asked through another yawn.

“Yes, he’s very busy, but he can work you in at eleven tonight.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Tell him I’ll be there,” and he dropped the handset back onto the receiver on the floor.

Immediately, he drifted back to sleep. When he woke again, he adjusted his glasses -- as they’d started digging into the bridge of his nose -- and checked his watch. It was one in the afternoon, and he struggled to pull himself off the couch, his muscles sore from the exertion of the night before. He went through his normal morning routine: he grabbed one of the apples from the kitchen and picked through the new pieces of evidence he’d acquired on his desk. The photo was still a source of amusement for him, and the paper with the phone number didn’t have any other useful information on it. Tossing the apple core into the trash bin, he picked the receiver up off the floor and dialed the number on his rotary phone. He was surprised when the operator picked up the line and asked him to check which number he was calling. Reciting the digits to her, he waited as she checked it again, but, unfortunately, the line was a dead end. He thanked the operator, and, as he set down the phone, he began to fidget. Perhaps they weren’t as foolish as he’d thought, or the number wasn’t a phone number at all.

He flopped into his desk chair, took out one of his notepads, and began working the number through any variation he could think of. He tried to see if there was any alphabetic translation, or if it was some kind of cipher, but everything ended up being nonsense. He flipped the paper over and over in his hand, trying to figure out what else it could be, before tossing it back to the desktop. He was applying too much intelligence to this, there was no way it could be this complicated. The events of last night had proven that, and every time he tried to look at it through a more skilled lens he ended up at a dead end. He was starting to get the feeling that the answer was easy, and it was right under his nose. But right now his mind was foggy -- he was sure he’d gotten too much sleep. He slid the paper and the notepad into his desk drawer and shut it with a flick of his hand. He needed more coffee.

The rest of the day was uneventful. He’d taken a trip down to the diner closer to Old Gotham, thinking a change in environment might help his brain get in gear. A morning paper had been left in one of the booths, and so he’d spent most of his time drinking coffee and scanning the classifieds for any potential work. There hadn’t been any fires yesterday, though that might be because whoever was responsible for the others was now focused on him. After he left the diner, he was feeling more alert and much more energized. He started to make a mental list of places he needed to visit to further the fire investigation, or at least to see if he could get his hands on some records to find a connection between the buildings. He swung back by the office in the evening and grabbed his coat and hat. Then, he headed down to the underground train station.

Once he got onto the platform, he checked his watch; he was early. Just how he liked it. When you weren’t sure what a meeting was for it was best to show up much earlier than the agreed time. It gave the other side less time for preparation and made it more likely that you would enter the discussion at an advantage. He was lucky today -- the trains were on time -- but as he got into the car, his leg muscles tensed. He’d certainly exerted too much energy last night in his malnutritioned state. Edward watched as the lights on the tunnel walls flashed by the windows as it continued on its track, the ambient rustle of the train car almost relaxing. The woman in the car with him kept sneaking glances in his direction. He was sure she recognized him. At one point he caught her staring and stared back, but it was immediately obvious she wasn’t another hitman. He saw nothing but fear in her eyes. Eventually, she got up and moved to the back of the car to put more distance between them and to place herself closer to an exit.

As the train finally approached his stop, Edward stood up and headed to the door, grabbing hold of the railing above to keep his balance. He noticed the woman in the back of the car watching him as he exited the train; at least now she could be at ease. The station was much busier here, and he watched the crowds of people migrating to and from the train around him. He found himself gathered in with the night workers as they traveled up the stairs to the street level. Some of them looked in his direction, but most were too preoccupied with their morning routines to worry. Getting up to the sidewalk, Edward looked around. The traffic was much busier here, even at this late hour. He remembered that this part of the city was very chaotic during the territory wars, but it looked as if it hadn’t suffered too much of the destruction. The streets looked much the same, and to a tourist it would look like it had been nothing but business as usual here. It felt like a photograph, almost like a time capsule.

He looked across the street to his destination, the GCPD headquarters -- the new one, he reminded himself. They had a bad track record of letting these buildings get destroyed, or at least become unusable. He hurried through a break in the traffic and made his way up the wide stone steps to the entrance. He’d only walked through the front doors of this particular building twice, and he was barely conscious at the time. Once inside, he stopped and looked around the small entryway, spotting a plaque on the wall with office numbers. He barely looked at it, just skimmed, knowing the name would catch his eye. And it did. Commissioner and 3rd were all he needed, and he hurried up the steps on his right.

He wasn’t sure what this meeting was for, but he did find it odd that Gordon hadn’t made the invite call himself. Having Wilkes do it could be interpreted in different ways, some insulting and some logical. He assumed Gordon was going to try another tactic to question him about the events inside the Narrows, and he was more than willing to show up for that game. He’d grown tired of his frequent phone calls, and the idea of Gordon trapped in his office with an unrelenting Edward sounded like a good way to spend the evening hours. He wondered how long it was going to take Gordon to figure out that most of the people affected weren’t going to speak. It was Jim’s job, yes; Edward knew that, but it was too ugly of a thing to look back at.

As he climbed the stairs, he noticed many nasty looks from the officers he passed. Some of them looked angry, but others just looked disappointed. Probably that you’re still breathing, Edward thought. Good, I hope it ruins their day. Finally getting to the third floor, Edward began a slow stride down the long hall. The open area to his left was filled with mostly empty desks, and only a few detectives spotted the area, hunched over paperwork or clicking away at their typewriters. He noticed one staring and felt a burst of excitement in his chest. Bullock was sitting at this desk, staring him down, their last encounter clearly not forgotten. Edward noticed he had a new haircut, and that, like last time, he didn't look as rough for wear as Edward was used to. Maybe he finally quit drinking, probably not the best decision in the current climate. With a tilt of his hat he gave Bullock a smile, but Harvey only let out a groan Edward could barely hear and turned back to his work in a huff. Thanks, Bullock, he thought. That at least told Edward he wasn’t here for some empty threat of arrest; Harvey wouldn’t be able to contain his joy if that was the case. That was good, he was tired of that boast.

Getting to Gordon’s office door, he knocked in a rhythmic pattern and entered after hearing an invitation from within. The room was dark other than the lamp on Gordon’s desk, and as Edward entered he noted the slight look of surprise on Jim’s face. Edward closed the door behind him and watched Jim sit up in his chair, and the annoyance on his face made Edward’s mood fly into jubilation.

Jim looked at his watch. “I guess eleven o’clock is ten-thirty in Arkham time.”

“Early bird gets the worm, Jim. I’m a working man now, being overly punctual looks good on all my paperwork.” Edward responded, happily nestling his hands into his coat pockets.

Jim let out an exhausted breath. Taking the work folder off his desk, he shoved it into one of the drawers, but not before Edward could catch a few words off the pages. Jim lit a cigarette as he stood, making his way over to the filing cabinet by the window.

“You want a coffee or anything?” Jim mumbled as he pulled a few files out.

“Got anything stronger?” Edward prodded.

“Yes, but I’m not wasting it on you,” Jim said as he moved back toward his desk with a stack of files in hand. As Jim moved past the window, Edward spotted a tall dark figure there, blocking the moonlight shimmering through the panes. In an instant, his jubilation was gone. Edward glared at the white eyes staring at him from the darkness, and he felt his chest tightened at the realization he hadn’t noticed earlier that the Bat was there.

“Have a seat, Edward,” Jim said as he sat back down at his desk.

“I’ll stand.” Edward blurted out, his eyes still fixated on the dark corner.

Jim’s eyes shifted between the two men, but he decided to ignore the clear animosity Edward held, “Whatever makes you more comfortable, I guess.” He took a deep drag from his snipe and looked Edward square in the eyes, “Alright, Ed. We know --”

“Edward. We’ve been through this, you don’t get to call me that.” Edward interrupted.

“...Edward, I know that you’re investigating the fires.” Jim finished.

Edward stuffed his hands deeper into his coat pockets, giving Jim a stern look. “Is that what this meeting is about? I’m not telling you a damn thing, Jim.” He gave the commissioner a smug grin. “If that’s all, can I go now?”

Jim narrowed his eyes, leaning forward over his desk a bit and piercing Edward with a stern look that only fathers could muster. “How about you let me finish? You think you can keep that smart mouth of yours shut long enough for me to explain?”

Edward gritted his teeth, “Fine.”

Jim puffed on his cigarette, and Edward could tell he’d already gotten on the man’s nerves, which would’ve been enjoyable if it wasn’t for their third wheel. Letting out a deep sigh, the smoke flew around Jim in the bright light from the lamp.

“Edward, I know you’re investigating the fires. You’ve been spotted at a couple of the scenes, and --”

“They weren’t locked down.” Edward interrupted again, but a swift look from Jim made him shut his mouth.

“And, I don’t know how much you’ve figured out on your own. I know this is going to sound strange, but I’m not asking you to divulge all your intel to us. I asked you here to tell you what we know.” Jim finished.

Edward frowned in confusion, then laughed under his breath. “You can’t be serious. You want to tell me what you know?”

“To be honest, this case is pretty complicated,” Jim mumbled around the cigarette in his mouth, “We both decided that the more eyes we have looking at it is a good thing. And then, you’ll have a better idea of what to look for should any new evidence crop up.” Edward could tell he was trying his best to remain professional, to ease any suspicions that Edward had. But the detective knew this was a trick, it had to be. There was no way on Earth either of these men would confide information to him. Edward opened his mouth to speak, but Jim cut him off.

“And, before you say it, no, this isn’t some scheme to get you to tell us what you know. And, again, before you ask, yes, there’s a catch. There’s something we’d like to ask for in return.” Jim huffed out a puff of smoke. “C’mon, Nigma, you’re used to this. We help you with your investigation, and in turn, you help us with a problem we’ve been running up against. It's been causing us some trouble and slowing down progress in the investigation.”

Edward looked between the two men, running through possible options in his mind. He felt out of sorts again, unsure what guise would be the best strategy for this situation. He couldn't play his tried-and-true Riddler shtick, that could ruin everything. But he was too flustered to act out the know-it-all attitude, too put-out for the calm and collected better-than-you routine. The offer was intriguing, but it was sending off every alarm bell in his mind. Then the Bat stepped out of the shadows, and as he got closer to the desk the lamplight made more of him visible. It was much different seeing him in the light than in the dark alley the night before. Edward felt his pulse quicken, and then that grating deep voice finally filled the room.

“Nigma.”

“Don’t,” Edward interrupted, yet again.

“Nigma --”

“I’m here to talk to Jim! I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. If I knew you were going to be here, I wouldn't have come at all.” Edward’s breath hastened, and he cursed himself mentally. That came across less direct and more childish than he’d intended, but the Bat remained silent.

He hated that, he’d always hated it. That expressionless, silent stare always grated on his nerves. Edward hated it even more now that he knew what it was, and that, before, he’d fallen for it so easily. It was an interrogation tactic: remain silent to entice the other to continue speaking. He wasn’t going to fall for it this time, he’d learned this tactic as well, so he simply stared back. Which seemed like a good idea at first, but the longer he looked, the more uncomfortable he became. The light showed him how different the cowl was now, and the cape had changed as well. It always annoyed Edward when the Bat would show up with a whole new suit -- keeping up with all the variations was tedious work. He saw a small nick in the cowl on one side, Hit with something no doubt. Edward’s first thought was that he hoped it hurt, but that thought brought on a strange melancholy sensation. He remembered that the Bat had been hurt a lot recently, and he had no idea how badly since he wasn’t there to see it. He had been... preoccupied at the time.

He’d heard some of the stories, but when it came to the Dark Knight those were mostly untrue. He wasn’t as extravagant as the tales made him out to be. Then, all of a sudden, one of those stories flashed in his memory. They said he’d stayed outside the barricades for a whole week, trying to find a way to break in to save people. But, all his attempts were unsuccessful. Edward hated that one in particular; it sounded exactly like the sort of thing the stubborn idiot would do, and the thought of it made him uneasy. He broke the long stare, his eyes wandering around the room as he tried to look unbothered.

Jim’s gruff voice broke the uncomfortable silence. “Edward, we need your help. That’s what he’s trying to say, that’s why we called you here.”

Edward froze and attempted to hide his shock at that statement, but his gaze darted to Jim’s. He saw genuine pleading in the commissioner’s eyes, and he let out a howl of frustration. Jim arched a brow at the sudden outburst but only watched as Edward reached up and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes in annoyance. Placing them back on, he stomped over to the chair in front of Jim’s desk and sat down with a completely defeated look on his face. Jim seemed to relax at this development, his eyes rested on Edward for a few moments before standing up, “I’ll get you that stiffer drink.”

“Yeah, you better.” he replied, ignoring Jim as he walked past him toward the front of the office. Edward took his coat and hat off, tossing them in the vacant chair beside him. He flinched; suddenly, there was a large file being slid in front of him by a gloved hand. It opened the folder and flipped through some of the pages before stopping on a pile of photographs. As the hand retreated, Edward began to sift through them. There were a lot more fires than he’d known of. But it was what he’d come to expect: the fires all started on different floors, there were different levels of damage, and they were in all different areas of the slums. He heard Gordon pouring some liquid into a glass, which he placed next to him. Flipping through the investigation notes, Edward noticed that they’d already answered one of his questions. The building’s owners had no connection -- at least that was one lead he wouldn’t have to waste his time on.

“You’re sure they’re all connected?” Edward’s question was directed at Jim, and he hoped he’d take the hint.

He heard Jim’s voice move across from him as he sat back down. “That’s what he says. There are some connections, but not many, on paper at least.”

Edward kept that in mind as he continued to read through all the statements from those involved, noting the lack of actual witnesses. He took a sip from his glass without thinking, scotch, he noted. Of course, he’d have scotch. A familiar address jumped out on one of the pages: Mrs. Hattie’s previous residence. He noted the lack of a witness report from her as well as he took another sip from his drink and removed his cigarette pack from his jacket pocket.

“You think it's arson?” Edward asked, though this question was directed at Batman.

There was a pause before that grating voice spoke. “It's possible.”

“It’d have to be someone who had direct access to every building.” Edward stated plainly.

“Not necessarily. A lot of the buildings have been vacant for an extended time.”

“So there isn’t a lot of foot traffic. I get it, but you’d think that it’d be in just one area. It's up north, south, all over.” Edward slid a snipe into the side of his mouth and lit it with a match.

“That’s one of the issues with that theory,” the Bat said. “It's possible, but someone blending in in that many neighborhoods would be difficult.”

“Unless they’re some public servant or something. No one ever suspects the mailman.”

“It's possible, but there are other theories as well. I’m sure you’ll figure them all out.” said Batman. The tone of his voice sounded rather final, as if he was putting an end to the questioning.

Edward put the file back on the desk, taking a drag on his snipe. “Have somewhere to be, do you?”

“Is that satisfactory, Edward?” Jim cut in, Edward shifted his gaze back up to the commissioner and gave him a tired nod.

“Good. Feel free to take it with you, and give it a good look over. Not sure how many of those folks are your clients, but hopefully it helps.” Gordon leaned back in his chair, and Edward could tell he was about to be put in an uncomfortable situation. Jim rubbed his mustache, giving Edward a stern yet pleading look. “We’re having trouble getting people to cooperate with us on this. The owners of the buildings are the only ones speaking to us, the people who lived there or even nearby don’t want to talk. It puts us in a tough spot, and we’re really strapped on any potential witnesses. That leaves us with just paper trails, and stakeouts to see who shows up at the scene. As you can see, it's not much to go on.”

Edward saw the opportunity for a dig right away, and his eyes narrowed, as he took another drag on his snipe. “Did you expect any other reaction than that? Only a fool would think the people in those areas would cooperate with you two.” Edward noted Jim’s quick glare and held up a questioning hand. “What does that have to do with me?”

Jim took a deep breath, snuffing out his cigarette in the tiny ashtray on his desk. “You didn’t seem to have too many issues getting them to talk to you.”

Edward’s eyebrows raised, a knowing smile crossing his face. “Ah, I see. Were you all tailing me on my bar crawl the other night?”

“Maybe. And you didn’t appear to have too many issues. People were willing to talk to you --”

Edward waved his hand in a flippant gesture. “Jim, they’re a bunch of working people. They get off their shifts, and head to the local watering hole. They only talked to me because they were intoxicated, and, well, because they live in the damn slums. They’re not used to us flashy people who are all over the news showing up in their area.”

Jim raised a brow. “You think they talked to you because you were a super-criminal?”

Edward shrugged, draping his arm over the back of the chair. “Is it that hard to fathom, Jim? They’ve only read about me in the papers, seen me on the television. Or they’ve seen my mugshot on wanted posters plastered around the city. I’m sure they never thought I’d show up in a tiny dive bar in the slums wanting to talk to them.” Edward looked between the two of them, a smug grin crossing his face. “I know you two think I’m terribly dangerous, but you need to understand that to some people, dangerous is exciting.”

Jim contemplated his reasoning and briefly looked to Batman, who nodded in response to his questioning look. Edward’s eyes shifted between them again, and he took one final drag on his cigarette before snuffing it out in the ashtray. “So that’s it, huh? You want me to go bar hopping for you two?”

Jim rested his elbows on his desk, his fingers brushing his mustache. “Do you think they’d speak to you again? Would more people talk to you if you tried?”

Edward shrugged, crossing his arms across his ribs and his ankles under Jim’s desk as he slumped in the chair. “It's an idea. I could canvas the areas, but it will require some door-to-door visits. That’s not exactly the safest situation to put myself in.”

Jim nodded and looked to Batman again. “We should do some thorough background checks on these people, make sure none of them are sympathizers or supporters.” Batman nodded in agreement, and Jim looked back to Edward. “We'll send along a list of people to avoid. I guess we’ll try to take another crack at them while you’re gathering intel.”

Edward pressed his lips together, fixing Jim with a serious look. As long as they were agreeing to do that for him, it wouldn’t hurt to see what else he could get them to agree to. “So, how much am I getting paid for this job? And who is buying my drinks? I’m not spending my own money buying booze for people all night long.”

Jim huffed as he leaned back in his chair, gesturing towards Edward as he looked to Batman. “See? I told you.”

Edward smirked, but Batman shifted his gaze down to him. “You’ll be compensated, Nigma.”

“Oh, you’re paying for it? How do I know this isn’t some scam to get a bug into my office?” Edward’s eyes narrowed, but the Bat didn’t react, still giving Edward that silent, annoying stare.

“You’ll be compensated.” he said again, and Edward let out the breath he was holding. That had been too easy, and he decided to see how far he could go until he encountered some push-back.

“Fine, but there’s one more thing. I’m going to need some help.” Edward uncrossed his arms, draping them over the armrests of his chair.

“What kinda help?” Jim asked, giving Edward a suspicious look over the rim of his glasses.

“Well, some people do find chatting with me to be exciting, but others might need a little push to be more upfront with their information. Sometimes it can take people a while to start opening up to me --” Edward decided to ignore Jim’s eye roll of agreement to that, “and since time seems to be a factor in this, it would be smart to have some backup. Some... persuasive backup.”

Jim frowned. He could tell this wasn’t going anywhere good, and Edward was attempting to manipulate the situation. “Alright then, who are you suggesting be your persuasive backup?”

Edward grinned, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the armrests. “Robin.”

Jim’s eyes widened. “Really, Nigma? You’re gonna pull that kinda shit?” Edward could feel the Bat’s intimidating presence grow as the mood in the room drastically shifted.

He quickly held up his hands. “Calm down, gentlemen! I have my reasons.” Both of the men were glaring at him with anger so tangible he felt like he could cut it with a knife, and his mood improved in an instant. “Okay, number one. He’s,” Edward flicked a finger toward Batman, “too intimidating. He’d just scare the shit out of them and they’d clam up. Number two, I’m unwilling to work with him under any circumstances.” Jim rested an elbow on his desk and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Number three, the kid can actually take direction. He has ears and he knows how to use them. He doesn’t interrupt me every couple of seconds. Number -- whatever, look, no matter how much I hate to admit it, the kid isn’t a complete imbecile. He can keep up with me, at least, he seems like he can. He’s not going to slow me down, and I’m sure he can take a clue if things get too sketchy.”

Jim’s expression was still very untrusting, but now he appeared to be listening to Edward’s explanation. The Bat, on the other hand, wasn’t buying it, though Edward didn’t blame him. The more obvious solution to this problem would’ve been one of Gordon’s detectives, and Edward was sure Batman could see right through his weak reasoning. “Robin carries the impression of Batman being involved, without all the messy consequences of Batman being involved. I’m sure he can be persuasive enough with people that might need it, and I’m more than confident he can handle himself when I inevitably piss off the wrong person. It’d only be minimal involvement, I want to be around him about as much as he wants to be around me. Another perk is, I don’t have to talk to him during this whole investigation.” Edward concluded, flicking a thumb in the Bat’s direction.

Jim was mulling over what Edward had said, looking at Batman with an exhausted look. “I’m sure it’s just bullshit, but it does make sense. You two would just be at each other’s throats the whole time.”

Batman gave Edward a piercing glare, “No.”

Edward scoffed. “Why? What do I look like to you? I’m not the Joker --” he quickly held up his hands as Batman’s fists clenched at his sides, a light growl leaving his lips. “Okay fine, that was too far. All I’m saying is, you let the kid follow me around, break into my house, but actually putting him to work is too much for you?”

“Him tailing you and monitoring your movements is completely different than having him be in a situation where you are expected to watch his back. You know that, and you’re pushing my patience.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. They’re just a bunch of people who lay down tar, or dig ditches for a living. It's not like they’re hardened criminals. All I need him for is to be a second pair of eyes, and to be there in case someone thinks it's more exciting to talk to a vigilante than an ex-super-criminal.”

Batman continued his intense glare, but he went back to being a silent presence in the room. Jim let out an exhausted sigh, rubbing his temples with his hand. “Sweet lord, you two are tiresome.”

The Bat leaned closer to Edward. “Fine. Minimal involvement.” With that he turned and climbed out of the open window, gliding off into the night without a sound.

Edward leaned over the side of his chair to stare at the vacant window, surprised. Jim just waved a hand, “He does that, don’t take it personally.”

Edward looked back at Jim as he grabbed his belongings off the chair next to him. “Good to know he’s just as rude to you as he is the rest of us.” Putting his hat on, he downed the rest of his drink with an uncomfortable hiss and stood up to put on his coat. “So, do we schedule our next team meeting now? Next time, do we meet at the bat-signal?”

Jim let out another tired sigh, handing the large evidence file up to Edward. “Nigma, just leave. I’ve dealt with you enough tonight. We’ll be in touch.”

Edward snatched up the folder and tucked it under his arm. He gave Jim a slight tip of his hat as he exited the office, a proud smile crossing his lips the moment the door clicked shut. He headed toward the stairs to leave, a happy air to step as he went. But his good spirits were short-lived. By the time he’d gotten to the ground floor, a sense of anxiety had started in his chest. As he stepped out of the front doors, he could feel the thoughts trying to pry into his consciousness. He tried to push them down, to ignore them, but that only made them press even harder.

After all these months you finally get to see him, and you messed it all up, as usual.

Continue reading:

Ep 9 * Ep 10 * Ep 11 * Ep 12 * Ep 13 * Ep 14

#writing post #Season 1 episodes #Season 1 Finale #Edward Nigma #batvillains #Batman #S1 eps 8 - 14 #zorasublime #fic

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draganasimpsforjeff · 3 years

Text

Hunting Dogs (proxies x reader) Chapter One

This is based on the story of mine on Quotev but due to it being labeled and now taking off index no one can see it unless searching my username so I figured I’d also post it on here cuz why not? Plus I like tumblr better anyways*shrug*

"Did you check the perimeter?" A dark haired man with a feminine mask questioned to his younger colleague who nodded in response. "A-all clear." That was what he expected out of the younger man. A simple straight answer. No one had time to have an explanation during a high stress leveled mission. A man's hair was clenched in the dark haired man's hand. A rag was shoved into his mouth, only letting him breathe through his nose while his eyes budged out in fear.

"Masky, you know what needs to be done. " A voice changer broke Masky out of his stare at the old man and back to his original partner, Hoodie. "I just want to take my time, after all..Boss never mentioned a deadline." He chuckles darkly, bending to the height of the old man.

"We don't need to bring attention to ourselves. This city is highly populated and we can't risk being caught. Get on with it." Hoodie forces his tone down, but trying to remain his point clear about how this was not a game. They were not in the Slender forest or their usual hunting grounds.

This was an unfamiliar city with not that many hiding places. The dark alleys being their own source of protection.

"Syringe. " Masky held out his palm, waiting for the messy haired man to hand him what he requested. Toby reached into his pocket, careful not to accidentally drop it or prick himself with it. He hands it over and Masky grinned behind his mask. Hoodie looked around, scanning the area high and low with his eyes squinting every now and then to make sure no one was hiding in the dark before crossing his arms tightly and watched Masky.

"Okay, pops. I'm going to ask you some questions, but I'll need to take the cloth out of your mouth. No screaming, got it? If you did, I will not hesitate to use this." He held up the syringe, the dim light post, providing enough of it's source to give the liquid a shine. His grin grew wider, flicking it and turns his attention back to the man at his feet.

He nodded and Masky considered him for a moment, reaching down and takes it out. "Now. Tell me, Paul Densie. Why did you think it was smart to go looking for our kind?" he asks as his eyes never left the man's face. He swallowed, breathing shakily before choosing his words carefully. "It was not my choice. They were strict orders. I wasn't suppose to be taking up that case, you have the wrong man."

"We never have the wrong man." Masky snickered and grabbed the man's face. "And why was it so important for you assholes to go searching? Huh!? What was the fucking point?!"

"Masky be quiet you're go-"

"Shut the fuck up Hoodie, before I plunge this syringe into you instead of him. " Masky spat with venom, turning his attention back to the old man, taking a quick breath, looking back up at the man. "Now...answer the question. " He was glad that it was dark out so the hostage couldn't see the insanity that was brewing behind his eyes. He wanted nothing man then to wrap his large hands onto the bastards neck and squeeze till his head popped off.

"A f-few of our men have been filed as missing. We had some of our coworkers do some tracking and along with the timeline, it led us to the ones we suspect now. And once we find those bastards, you pricks will be done for!" A hard slap echoed from his face and Masky grabbed the guy's collar, bringing him close to his face. "You must be the dumbest person I ever met if you think your team can even come close to us. You will never find us. And we will make sure of that. We do whatever we need to to protect ourselves even if that means killing every. single. fucker. that. gets. in. the . way. We have our own strict orders to follow and we go through them. After all, we are just a bunch of hunting dogs." He grinned, stabbing the man in the chest with the syringe.

The man froze with his eyes bulging out, looking up at the dim light before falling down to the concrete beside Masky's leg.

A loud gasp caught their attention and they snapped their heads in the direction to see a girl with a work uniform on, most likely one of the local restaurants on the strip. One command made her break into a run, following her trace and leaving the alley.

"Here you go, Mr. Saka. Your usual." Y/N smiles at the middle aged man who came in here at least three times a week. He was the regular's that you have gotten to known pretty well. You were still a newbie when it came to this job, but you made it one of your concerns to get to know people pretty well. You had a fresh start and you didn't want it to be like how your life was before moving. You saved enough money from your last job when you lived in a smaller town with your mom, but things were getting too bad at home that you went to school full time and a job. You were in senior year of high school and now you just worked full time at one of the well known restaurants in town.

It was actually the first place you applied to. The hourly pay wasn't great, but it was enough and plus you made tips. One of the upsides to getting to know people in a city like this, especially with regulars was that they paid you decently. And it was mostly always busy during the day with people rushing in for their break at work or tourists, but at night it was mostly drunks or regulars or some Yelp reviewer...you had a lot of those, they never got off the company's back that you worked for.

But you hadn't messed up once so you didn't worry about it.

"Thank you, sweetheart. My, I gotta say it's like you practically live here. Do you work full time?" Mr. Saka asks, cutting into his pancakes. He was one of those people that liked breakfast food at night and you thought it was funny when everyone else was having dinner and he was the only one ordering a breakfast platter.

"Yes, well, I'm trying to have enough money to where I don't have to worry so much about bills or if I want to get enough food for the month. It's hard, yes, but that's the adult life I guess." You sighed, running the damp rag across the counter, cleaning up from the last customer.

"Just try to take care of yourself. I would hate to see you get burnt out from all the hard work, besides, you're my favorite. " he sends a playful wink before drowning his pancakes in syrup. You chuckled, breaking into a small smile. "You're my favorite too, Mr. Saka. "

"Y/N, you may clock out if you like. We have a newbie coming in tomorrow and we might need you to come in early for an extra pair of hands." Your boss says, looking over the time sheet. You nodded, sighing a little as you hated coming in early especially when you thought you were going to have a short shift tomorrow. "Alright, I will. Goodnight everyone!" You said, sliding your time card in and clocking out. "Have a goodnight, Mr. Saka. Stay out of trouble." You give him a small pat on the shorter, sending him into a fit of laughter.

"As if!"

You chuckled once more at his comment, opening the door and walking out. The air was a bit chilly and you were glad to have brought your hoodie. It wasn't the thickest, but it covered you up. So, it did it's job.

As cliche and dumb as it was, you usually took shortcuts home. The city was too alive at times like this, making it nearly impossible to not be trampled by other people or take nearly an hour to get home. With a short cut, you cut the time in half. It was still exhausting after a long shift at work, but it was something.

You heard shouting and stopped dead in your tracks. You heard an old man speaking and furrowed your eyebrows. Should I see what is happening? Call the cops? Turn around and leave? What?

But before you could register what your body was doing, you moved away from the shadows and gasped at the sight of an man, sending a needle into the old man's chest and watching him fall to the ground.

Three heads snapped at you and you cursed silently, before turning your heel in the opposite direction, waiting for the signal to break into a run.

"GET HER!"

So here's the first chapter. I hoped you liked it and there might be chapters with cliffhangers, so expect that. This is going to be a dark creepypasta x reader, so if don't like that then don't read any further as topics will get triggering, just a warning also gonna use tags so maybe you guys can find it easier cuz i don’t know how to do masterlist

#creepypasta x reader #proxies x reader #myoriginalwork #HuntingDogs

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furblrwurblr · 3 years

Text

I suppose this is an improvement...

Douxie x reader, fluff with a side of that good kush crack

Sequel to Patience, Love and a part three on the way!

Warnings: Mild swears, a bit of an innuendo

You and Douxie had been talking the past couple of weeks, and he’d slowly broken your lingering wall of embarrassment from that little incident at the coffee shop. He was indescribably sweet and silly, sending you pictures of items from GDT Arcane books with silly captions. You’d long since met the one responsible for the pawprint signature, and absolutely fallen in love with him. The feeling seemed to be mutual, but you weren’t sure until Douxie brought up his magic to you, allowing Archie to speak with you. It was a loaded conversation for him, his only courage coming from the fact that your thoughts curled around his shoulders every morning and night, and that you knew how much time he spent when he woke up turning this way and that to read your thoughts through his blasted tattoos. He’d been surprised when you very calmly dissolved the ring on your finger, reforming it and twirling it in the air, its consistency like liquid. When he asked why he hadn’t sensed it in your aura, all you really knew was that it was one of the Old Magicks, before Light Conjurers like himself had become the predominant class. After that, he spoke with you far more, wanting to learn about your magic and excited his soulmate was like him.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

Warped Tour had seemed ages away then, but now it was the day of. You’d just picked up your phone when the intercom buzzed, alerting you that he was here. Hm, scarily punctual, you’d just watched the clock on your lock screen flash 7:00. You buzzed him in and waited by the door, his fast footsteps quickly being surpassed in speed by your heartbeat.

He quickly rapped a knuckle on the door, a nervous smile spreading across his face as you opened the door a little too enthusiastically. He brought his hands from behind his back to reveal… a trollish artifact?

“It’s an Antramonstrum shell to protect your flat. I don’t like the idea of anything taking advantage of your limited offensive magic,” he explained, looking from it to you, trying to discern your reaction.

You were in shock. This man comes to your door promising a nice dinner before he whisks you across the country on a traveling band tour, and he brings you a gift? You’d been expecting flowers or a book but this… it was beautiful. Screw whatever protective capabilities it had, the thing was gorgeous. A beautiful dark base of textured, volcanic rock and ethereal spires of glowing, purple crystal. You gently took it from him, turning it in your hands.

“Where would be best to put it?” you finally asked, remembering its intended purpose.

Douxie unsuredly looked to you, the door, then into the flat causing you to remember something else: he’d been standing in the doorway this entire time. Outside. In the hall. Apologies poured out of you as you threw open the door the rest of the way and ushered him inside. He laughed before taking a quick look around the main area before settling on you. That laugh, every time you heard it was like the first, making your heart blossom. Hah, there’s that word again. First.

You shook your head and pulled yourself out of the clouds to give him a quick tour. He placed the shell on the dresser in the front area and turned to you, hands fiddling against his pockets.

“You ready to go? Our reservation’s in half an hour, we’ve got time to walk before we head off. We can drop your bag off at the bookstore.”

You nodded and grabbed your hiking pack. He’d said you’d be camping together, just for the fun of it, so you packed everything. He chuckled when he saw you, the pack weighing you down almost comically. He tapped it as you passed, a flash of blue light instantly reducing the load.

Walking and talking for the next half hour came naturally, both of you playing off one another’s excitement. Animated conversation followed you both on the near-empty streets of Arcadia.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

The dinner was pleasant, nothing extravagant but certainly among the nicer establishments of the area. He tried to tip the waiter after paying for it all, but you’d slapped his hand away and left $15, really the largest you could afford to.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

After picking up both of your bags and saying farewell to Archie, who wasn’t a fan of any concert Douxie wasn’t a part of, he led you to the woods. Ominous, sure, but he assured you it was worth it. Finally, you two reached a clearing and he plopped his bag down, rummaging through it. He revealed a ball that barely fit comfortably in his hand, raised it, and smashed it against a root. You yelped, covering your face to prevent getting hit with any shards of glass, but there were none. Instead, there now stood a majestic gold and eggshell white boat before you, with a swirling mess of rings and green magic at the back. You stared, mouth agape as Douxie turned to you, hands on his hips and a smirk on his face.

“Let’s close that,” he said, gently placing two fingers under your chin and closing your mouth. He leaned in close, breath fanning over your ear. “Wouldn’t want to catch any flies,” he teased, before dancing backward and slinging his pack over his shoulder. He lifted yours in a sustained flash of blue, its contents rattling in protest when it landed in the boat. You followed him up the now-extended wing of the boat, feeling the metal and magic meld below your feet.

“I’ve got a couple questions,” you stated as he rummaged through a long compartment in the boat’s side.

“Go for it,” he responded, eyes lighting up in triumph as he pulled out a long, golden rod.

“First off, how come you lifted my pack and not yours?”

“Magic isn’t a permissible shortcut to hard work,” he recited. It sounded practiced, so he must hear it often. “For you though, there’s a bit of wiggle room.” He sat across from you on the bench, rod laid in his lap.

Oh, so he got flirty as the night deepened. Good to know. You were curious where his little mantra came from, but you brushed it aside and stuck with the questions you already had. “Alright then, you tease, what’s the green thing in the back?”

His chest puffed a bit with pride. “One of my Master’s creations, he calls it a small Heart of Avalon. Runs on time.”

“It runs on time?”

“It runs on time,” he confirmed with a glint in his eye.

If you weren’t impressed before, you sure were now. “That’s all I’ve got for now,” you said, still processing the magical artifact meant to power this boat.

Douxie stood, twirling the rod in his hand. With his other, he summoned a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, brace yourselves! What you’re about to witness is a magical feat like no other!” He tossed it, mic disappearing in a puff of bright blue smoke. He twirled the rod in the air a few times and slammed the end into the circular port between the benches. The lazy rings roared to life, spinning impossible fast. You looked at him, delighted. He winked at you and braced himself against the rod while you stumbled, the boat moving beneath you.

“You could have warned me!” you chided.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he laughed.

The boat soared into the sky, the forest already small. He pushed the rod into a tilt, the boat surging forward. The air tousled his hair, long sides whipping against his face. You two were euphoric, happy to be with one another.

He shifted the rod a bit to stay in its current position before sitting next to you on the bench. You two were quiet for a moment until Douxie spoke up. You couldn’t see him properly, but you could tell he was fighting a smile. He lifted up his sleeve, your thoughts about his demeanor after-hours just beginning to fade. “I’m impressed you were able to wait until after dinner this time, little minx,” he said evenly, a snicker escaping him afterward.

You nudged his arm with an indignant half-scoff, face burning at the nickname’s return.

Some time passed, conversation flowing gently. Douxie’s phone began vibrating, ringtone muffled. He pulled it out, the tune now all too clear, his lip between his teeth trying to suppress a shit-eating grin. Zoe’s smiling face mocked you from the screen to that wretched tune.

“Saw this boy at the mall last week, got the kind of look to make me freak…” the rest faded as you contemplated leaping off the side of the boat to become one with nature.

“Douxie! Why!” you scolded through a fit of giggles.

“Hey, Zo,” he laughed into the mic, putting her on speaker.

“Yes!!! She heard it! That was such a good decision, extraordinarily sexy of me for the suggestion. You guys getting close yet?”

“We’re about a quarter of the way, we’ll be there fairly soon.”

A quarter? It hadn’t been that long, just how fast were you going? The wind had died down, your hair no longer swirling violently. You looked over the side to try and glean any understanding of your speed to no avail.

You returned to Douxie’s side as he was finishing up on the phone. He handed it to you after saying his goodbyes, saying Zoe wanted to speak to you briefly. He’d taken it off speaker, so you held it to your ear.

“Hey, sweets. How you holdin’ up?”

You beamed at the term of endearment. “I’m doing alright, he hasn’t killed me yet.”

“I’m more worried about him after how you two met. Don’t jump his bones on the first night, love you, bye!” she snickered.

You barely stammered a farewell through your embarrassed smile before the line went dead. Douxie smirked at you, knowing exactly what was said despite not being able to hear it.

He stood and walked past you to tend to the steering mechanism, not before pausing, placing a hand on your shoulder and speaking into your ear again. His breath tickled your ear, his voice low.

“Patience, love.”

#snuck in a teensy bit of lore from an upcoming fic oops dkdkdkkd #furblewrites #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #toa #douxie x reader #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux toa #idk #patience love

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hongism · 4 years

Text

mists of celeste ➻ fifteen

➻ pairing: ot8 x fem!reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 4.0k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒

mists of celeste act two ➻ part five

He stands in the middle of the street with two pistols out and at the ready, a body at his feet that must have fallen victim to the random gunshot that echoed through the streets. Hongjoong isn’t alone though; he’s surrounded by eight thugs who seem to have the same idea. All have their own weapons pointed at Hongjoong’s head.

Hongjoong’s whole body is rigid and straight. Both arms are extended at ninety-degree angles, and the captain is ready to fire at any second. The silence is palpable, you can taste the tension on the back of your tongue, and no one moves. You are still at a far enough distance to be out of sight and out of mind. It leaves an opportunity. San’s little dot is still moving on your wristband, and there is a narrow alleyway off to your left that could grant you a shortcut if you decided to take it. Slowly, your right hand creeps down to the holster where your pistol sits. You drag two fingers over the metal with a hesitant touch.

You shouldn’t even have to hesitate. It’s Kim Hongjoong – The Scourge of the Black Sea. He should be more than capable of handling himself and yet. And yet. Your feet refuse to move towards the alleyway. Leaving doesn’t sit right with you, especially after Seonghwa specifically asked you to make sure Hongjoong stays safe. You exhale a huff of air, nearly rolling your eyes at your internal debate, then tug the pistol out.

You slip into view, gun lining up with the head of one of the thugs in an instant. He catches sight of you with ease, and his own weapon shifts to aim at you.

“Fuck!‌ Scourge brought back up,” he curses, jerking his head in your direction. It prompts a few of the other men to glance over at you, but Hongjoong remains rigid and unmoving. He’s almost like a statue in his stillness. Even with so many guns pointed at him, he’s stoic and unnerved. Then the dynamic shifts.

Hongjoong fires his right pistol, sending a thug cascading to the ground with a thud and quick death. In the same motion, he ducks down and sweeps his leg under the bandit next to the fallen one. As he falls, Hongjoong fires both pistols into his chest. You take the opportunity to dash forward, feet skidding across the dirt-covered road. The thug directly before you whips around and aims at you, but you drop to the ground, using your momentum to swing for his legs. He slams against the cobblestone with a grunt of pain, and you straddle his chest to put a bullet between his eyes. Your hand snaps up to fire again at the soldier above you, his gun midway to aiming for your head.

Hongjoong matches your haste, not even bothering to glance at you as you move, and the two of you dance around each other as though locked in a dangerous dance of death. Metal flashes across your vision. A blade comes close to sweeping over your chest, but you crack the flat of your hand against the owner’s wrist, and the weapon falls away uselessly. Your fingers close around that wrist and yank the body forward. You don’t have to turn to know that another thug is preparing to fire at you; his curses and shouts are indication enough. You duck behind the one you’ve got in your grasp just before the shot resounds.‌ The bullet buries itself in the chest of the thug before you, and you knock the limp body away to face the one who shot at you.

However, you don’t have the chance to fire back because Hongjoong beats you to it. Two bullets find a new home in the bandit. Then a thick arm locks around Hongjoong’s throat, yanking him back and causing one of his pistols to fall to the ground. You don’t hesitate or wait to line up a shot. Instead, you fire with confidence that you won’t hit Hongjoong, and your confidence isn’t misplaced because you hit the thug in the temple.

The shot leaves one man left standing. He doesn’t seem to know who to aim at first, glancing between you and Hongjoong with eyes blown in fear. The gun trembles in his hands, a grating rattling resounding from the weapon, and he settles on aiming at Hongjoong. Said man tilts his head to the side as he looks over the thug.

“Run,” he commands, tone icy and flat. “Before I change my mind.”

The mercy is enough for the man, and he nods hastily. His gun falls to the ground alongside the bodies. He takes off running down the street. You watch his retreating back with little interest. Then, a gunshot echoes through the street. The thug collapses facefirst into the dirt. You jerk to glance back at Hongjoong. He doesn’t speak, nor does his blank expression shift in the slightest. All he does is holster his gun in silence, then bends down to collect his fallen pistol and holster it as well.

You shouldn’t be surprised by the action.‌ The Scourge has a reputation for being cruel, but you still feel shock down in your bones at the image of Hongjoong’s lack of expression or remorse. Dangling freedom before a man like that then yanking it away in the blink of an eye. It’s almost worse than cruel.

You busy yourself by fiddling with your wristband. San’s dot has ceased its slow movements, and you tap at the screen a few times to make sure the device isn’t frozen.

“Hongj–”

“Why are you here?” Hongjoong cuts you off before you can inform him of San’s status. “And why the fuck are you here with Seonghwa’s equipment?”

“I-I, uh, Seonghwa – he gave it to me,” you stutter. “I n-needed to come.”

“Why?” The captain shifts at last to look at you directly. “I understand why you stayed last night. Your resolve is weaker than you think it is. But disobeying direct orders? Again? That’s not betrayal; it’s straight-up incompetence. Is there something wrong with your head? Is that why you can’t follow orders?”

“I have a debt to repay,” you snap back. Fists clench at your sides. A wave of heat rushes through your veins, the sensation sears a path to your fingertips. The distinct desire to punch Hongjoong in the nose rises, but you push it down by biting down hard on the tip of your tongue. “Aren’t you aware of that? You shouldn’t question why‌ I’m here when you know that.”

Hongjoong clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. His head shakes ever so slightly.

“I am not surprised that you came. My question is why are you not with San? Why didn’t you go straight to San? I could have handled a few petty thugs with shitty aim. Yet you decide to come to me first and not San. Why is that?”

The tightness in your throat stings as you attempt to swallow.

“Seonghwa, h-he asked me to make sure you stayed safe.”

A laugh tears through‌ Hongjoong’s chest. You see the whites of his eyes clearly as he rolls them back before dipping his chin towards his chest.

“Of course Seonghwa said that.” He mutters the words moreso to himself than to you, and thus you don’t respond. “He worries too much.” Hongjoong lifts his head again and looks over to where you’re standing. “Hopefully Seonghwa’s worry doesn’t cost us any more time. San has stopped moving. He must be near the warehouse already, or worse.”

Hongjoong strides off, increasing the distance between the two of you, and you merely watch him walk with head tilted to the side for a few moments. Then, his voice rings clear again.

“Are you going to pull it together or not?”

You take the words as an invitation, pressing your gun back against your thigh then chasing after Hongjoong’s retreating form on quick feet.

“Are you okay with this? I mean… me coming along with you.” You ask after a second of silence. You fall into step with the captain, and your eyes trail over his platinum hair. It is nearly blinding in the sunlight, creating something of a halo around Hongjoong’s head as he walks across the cobbles.

“I don’t have a choice. Waiting for Seonghwa and Mingi will take hours, but they’ll do the best they can. I expect the same from you as well. This is an emergency recovery mission. Get in, recover San, leave no survivors.”

You inhale sharply. Hongjoong doesn’t seem to see an issue with what he said, and you shouldn’t either. It’s a command similar to ones you’ve heard in the past – leave no survivors. Kill them all. No one left standing. Brutal, cruel, heartless.

“It isn’t your place to decide who lives and who dies,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “That should be up to San.”

Hongjoong shifts to glare at you out the corner of his eye.

“If they hurt San, then it isn’t a choice. It’s a responsibility. For each finger they lay on him, they will earn themselves five deaths. I can only hope they have enough men for that punishment.” You can’t bring yourself to respond. Eyes wide, your steps falter and you nearly trip over your own feet.

“A-And what happens if they don’t? Uh, have enough men?”

A sinister smirk covers Hongjoong’s lips.

“I will drag out their miserable lives as long as possible so that I can exact my punishment properly.”

You answer with a few shaky nods. It’s hard to swallow around the lump in your throat, but you manage to do so despite the pain it brings. Looking at Hongjoong again is out of the question; those cruel words leave a bad taste in your mouth, taking you back to memories that are not fond in the slightest. You aren’t proud of your past, you aren’t proud of the person you used to be – and still are sometimes – and you certainly are not proud of the orders you followed without question or complaint. Yet you do the same thing now; walk alongside Hongjoong without complaint or comment. You wonder if this is any different than back then, if following these orders is just a bad as it was back then. At least you aren’t being asked to murder anyone. Yet.

Hongjoong leads the way, glancing down at his wristband every once in a while until he comes to a complete halt. His head doesn’t lift, eyes still tracking the wristband without cease, and you opt to look around your surroundings in the hopes of finding at least some sign of San.

You get your wish, but the sight of it only causes the pit in your gut to grow deeper and deeper. Realization settles in, the anxiety spikes, and your only hope now is that San is alive. A wristband that can’t belong to anyone other than San lies in the middle of the cobbled streets. Hongjoong glares at the device without moving, staying several feet away. Then the force of his body hits yours without warning. You slam against the stony ground, pain radiates through your whole form, and Hongjoong crashes down on top of you. A grunt of pain leaves you as all the air in your lungs does. He doesn’t look at you, however; he instead glances back over his shoulder towards where San’s wristband is. You follow his line of sight for a moment before there is a loud explosion and dust swirls across your vision. You duck behind Hongjoong’s form to shield yourself from the blast.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong curses under his breath. A sigh follows, and he glances down at your widened eyes. “I should’ve seen that coming. They rigged mines under the wristband. Must’ve noticed the track system and seen us coming. Are you alright?”

“Y-Yea, just fine. Not the first time I’ve had to dodge mines.” The heat of the blast and Hongjoong’s proximity causes sweat to bead on your forehead. He pulls back and sits on his heels, but he doesn’t move off of you quite yet. His eyes scan the surroundings.

“They must’ve dug up the ground some to get the mines in,” he explains as his fingers run over the pale dirt between the cobblestones. His weight disappears as he rolls off of you. A moment later, he has flattened himself against the ground and pressed his ear to the dirt. You pull yourself up into a sitting position.

“What are yo–”

“Shush.”

You snap your lips back together at the command. It goes completely quiet for several minutes. By the time Hongjoong pulls up again, your patience is wearing thin and you wish he would just move already.

“There are seven more mines,” he says, breaking the silence at last. “We’ll need to go around to avoid them. No doubt they heard the first mine go off, and they set them up along the path to the warehouse. Must’ve gotten hold of San already.”

“Or maybe he got away,” you reason. “Dropped the wristband?”

Hongjoong’s eyes find yours.

“Do you really think that’s true?” He asks.

“I have to believe it is.”

Hongjoong doesn’t answer. He just gets to his feet and stares up at the surrounding buildings. You move to do the same. As you’re halfway up, Hongjoong extends an arm to you. You take it as a signal to stop moving at first, but he wiggles his hand before your face. You take it in yours and let him tug you up, and he motions to one of the shorter buildings on the left as he helps you to your feet.

“We should climb up and move around on the rooftops to get closer to the warehouse. They’ll most likely have some sort of defense system. Maybe some snipes or turrets along the rooftops.” Hongjoong pauses, and his hand falls limply by his side. “How good of a shot are you?”

“I – what?” You blink at the side of his head with confusion painting your features. “I, well, I was the best in my unit.”

“I thought you were the best in the whole damn military,” Hongjoong says through a small smile.

“It pays to be humble sometimes,” you laugh. There is a small break of levity between the two of you, one that you eat up while you can. Hongjoong heaves a grunt as he begins to scale the building he pointed towards not too long ago. You hop up behind him, following his path up the side of the building. Your right arm is still a tad weak from not using it as much when you had your injury, but it doesn’t bother you too much and you’re able to join Hongjoong on the roof within a minute.

“Have you climbed a lot of building in your day?”

You answer with a roll of your eyes.

“Is there any sign of San?” You ask as you approach the edge of the roof. There is nothing in your view as you glance over. Just a bit of dirt and sand across the ground, buildings of varying heights, and nothing else. There aren’t any bodies in sight – certainly no sign of San. It’s a stark difference compared to the part of the city you were in earlier that held bustling streets and numerous people regardless of how early or late it was. “Why is this part so empty when all the others have been completely filled to the brim?”

“Because Cara’s crew owns this part of the city,” Hongjoong answers in a matter of fact tone. “If you’re caught in it, you die. Even criminals and pirates won’t take that risk.”

“Then why aren’t there any patrols or people looking for intruders?”

“There are, there are. The patrol in this area must’ve taken San back to the warehouse without leaving anyone behind because of the mines. That’s why no one is nearby, but we should move quickly before a new patrol comes or one returns.” Hongjoong drums his fingers along the lip of the roof. “How good of a shot are you? You never answered my question.”

“With a sniper or a pistol?” You inquire, lips drawing together.

“The latter.”

You take a moment to ponder over the question, eyes scanning the rooftops ahead of you. “With clear air and no breeze, I could hit someone between the eyes from around 300 meters.”

“And you call yourself humble.” When you shift to look at Hongjoong, he’s smirking.

“That was me being humble. Would you like for me to tell you the truth? The real distance would be around 700 meters.” A laugh escapes you, and you continue speaking with a small smile playing at your lips. “With the proper holder, any weapon can be made into a long-distance one. Typical pistol bullets will travel around 2200 meters before falling to the ground. A typical sniper could go as far as 3600 meters although the sweet spot is between 600 and 1200 meters. Though that’s just a typical sniper rifle. A higher grade one with an excellent shooter behind it could shoot a bullet and it would travel around 9700 meters before hitting the ground.”

You pause to motion out at the rooftops, and Hongjoong follows the motions with his eyes.

“From up here, the distance to the ground is increased. Depending on the height between you and the ground, as well as the angle from which you’re firing the weapon, the exact angles and calculations change. 45 degrees is the sweet spot for angles of firing. It gives the best parabolic arc – the rise and fall – of the projectile. Of course, that’s all just to determine how far a bullet goes. In order to actually hit a target, the shooter has to be in prime condition, the weather needs to be clear because even the slightest breeze will disrupt the shot. Need to be steady, of course, handle kickback of a weapon with ease, and your target should obviously not be moving or else there’s no way you’re hitting it. Is that all you wanted to know or would you like some more exact calculations and lessons?”

A laugh rips through Hongjoong’s chest. He throws his head back as he all but cackles, shoulders quaking a bit.

“If Seonghwa were here, he would certainly get a rise from hearing you talk like that.” The smile coating the captain’s lips is coy, and there’s a different meaning to his words. You pick up on it after a few delayed seconds.

“O-Oh, ha, does he… does he have a kink for talking about guns?”

“You can ask him that yourself.”

You scoff at his response and turn away from the man, eyes returning to analyze the streets below. Something darts across your vision. You draw closer to the edge of the building when you spot it. Whatever it is, it’s moving quickly through the shadows, and because of your height from the ground, you can’t make out whether it’s a person or not. Your gaze hardens on the moving figure, and it darts out of the shadows just long enough for you to catch sight of a strip of white hair.

“It’s San!” You exclaim, lurching forward to jump down from the roof. Hongjoong catches you by the collar and yanks you back. The pressure against the fresh bruises along your neck burns and stings, and you cry out in pain as he tugs you. You ignore his obvious attempts to keep you quiet and open your mouth to call out to San. “Sa–”

Hongjoong claps a hand over your mouth. His lips brush the shell of your ear as he hisses his next words.

“Are you fucking trying to get us killed?”

You tear at his fingers, prying them back just enough for you to be able to spit back at him. “I’m trying to keep San from getting killed!”

“You’ll get everyone killed if you do anything now,” Hongjoong sneers. He maintains his grip on you as he leans forward and glances down to where San is darting by. His gaze starts out with unprecedented softness, but it quickly hardens as he continues to watch San move. “What the hell are you doing, Choi San?” He mutters the question to himself. The anger melts away from his expression and unveils something almost akin to sadness. He brushes it to the side though before you can comment on it. “We should get moving.”

His hand falls away from your collar and he stands up again. You mimic his movements, keeping close to the edge of the building and trying your best to keep San in view, but you lose track of him quickly.

“No,” you say, stopping in your tracks before you go any further. “We should get San and get out.”

Hongjoong opens his mouth to fire back a response, but nothing comes out. He resorts to just looking at you with a stuttering jaw and wide eyes. He genuinely seems to be at a loss for words, and you almost lose yourself in the shock of his lack of response. You manage to reach out, taking hold of his bicep, and lean close to utter further words.

“You need to protect San, don’t you? Make sure no one lays a finger on him?”

Hongjoong tugs his arm out of your grasp. His jaw clenches, and the lost expression morphs back into a stern one.

“I’m going to do that. I can’t stop San from doing this though. If it is what he wants, then I ca–”

“You don’t know what San wants! Did you hear him specifically tell you what he wanted? Just last night San didn’t know what he wanted! How could he know now? You can’t just sit back and let this happen. I’m certain this isn’t what San really wants, there’s no wa–”

Hongjoong reels on you, and the murderous rage in his eyes causes you to cut off and shut your mouth within a millisecond.

“You don’t know San the way I do, you don’t know any of us, and you can’t pretend as though you do. The only thing you should do is learn to keep your damn mouth shut.”

The sudden shift of mood sends you reeling, and you step back from Hongjoong. You drop the expression from your face immediately, not giving him the pleasure of seeing you upset by the words.

“Right, weapons aren’t supposed to speak.”

You pull yourself over the edge of the rooftop, glancing down as you begin to make a quick descent to the ground again. Whether Hongjoong wants you to or not, you don’t know. He doesn’t join you right away, and when you glance up at the edge, you can’t see his form either.

Your feet hit the ground with a thud, and you brush the front of your shirt down before turning to look out over the streets. When you stand up straight, pressure wraps around your neck. You nearly roll your eyes, thinking that it’s Hongjoong trying to pull you back or something and you didn’t notice him come down, but a sharp pain blossoms across the side of your head. It’s a distinct feeling, and you recognize it to be the butt of a gun. Unless Hongjoong suddenly decided to get rid of you for good, it can’t be him. You swing an elbow back and hit your attacker in the ribs. In response, the person tightens the pressure on your neck. You hiss out at the sensation. You thrash under the person’s grip in attempts to spring free, but the butt of the gun hits the side of your head one more time. Your vision grows fuzzy, black spots blossoming, and your attacker only has to squeeze your throat a little tighter before you fall unconscious.

✧✧✧ a/n: eek a bit of an action chapter i was literally rushing to format asodifjiosdfj bc im getting close to 5 ahhh omg sdoifjodisfjio anyways i hope you all enjoyed this part! we’ve got a bit more action to get through before the Angst hits and i gotta apologize in advance bc it gonna hurt asodfiji

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @yayhei @haotheheckk @noonawriter

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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creepysora · 3 years

Text

Grandpa’s hands were warm and big and calloused around his own.

“Juste,” he called to him again, but Juste remained silent, stubbornly blinking away the tears he felt forming bubbling in his eyes.

Despite Lydie and Maxim right next to him, he felt terribly alone under the concerned but piercing eyes of his grandfather. A man who had fought Dracula many times — father had said grandpa was the pride of their family, the one they should all be like.

A man who killed a demon if he saw one.

Juste stared at both of their hands without saying a word, remembering the events of the day.

— — —

It had been a day like any other bright, warm summer day. The sun was already high in the sky , the small village buzzing with life. One of his older sisters said it was small because it was young, and that the village was only here because of grandpa in the first place.

Juste easily believed that, and today was another day he was supposed to visit his grandparents to learn about Belmont history. His sisters said it was because he was born on a Saturday, much like grandpa himself was born on a Saturday, and how great—granduncle Desmond was born on a Saturday. Juste didn’t remember all the names yet, but he thought that a lot of them were born on Saturdays. That seemed to be important, but grandpa always told him to not worry about it yet when his sisters or papa brought it up.

As he moved down the street, two ladies with a group of children clinging to their hems changed to the other side of the street. Juste didn’t understand it. The wind carried bits of their conversation over to him.

“—such a shame, after all that family did for us—”

“—must be disappointed, a witchling child—”

“—his poor daughters, that boy’s a tragedy—”

He thought nothing of it. The adults in the village were often odd around him. Maybe he’d tell Maxim and Lydie about it later, if he saw them, and if grandpa sent him home early enough that he could sneak off to their secret spot before he returned home. He took a shortcut on his way through some of the less populated back alleys.

“Hey, Belmont.”

Juste stopped in his tracks, looking up to where the voice had come from. Upon a low wall sat a boy with brown hair, sneering down at him.

Juste raised his eyebrows, head tilted forward a little, before continuing on his way.

“I’m talking to you, Belmont.”

The boy jumped down in front of him. He was a lot bigger and broader than Juste, who was more on the small side, and a couple years older than him. The baker’s son, Gregor, if Juste remembered right, who told him once that the baker’s wife didn’t want him in the shop. (His father and sisters were still welcome.)

“Make it quick, then. I’m busy,” Juste replied, a soft blue glow emanating from the tips of his foam—white hair. He wasn’t scared of the older boy. He was pretty sure he could take him in a fight.

“Well, I’m not— ” Gregor made a step towards him as he took a step back — “so what are you up to? Running off to your grandpa?”

Juste frowned. “I— ”

“I’m surprised the old guy wants him around,” a second boy chimed in, rounding the corner into the alleyway.

A third one joined them promptly, cutting off Juste’s exit route. “Maybe it’s to make sure he doesn’t bewitch or curse anyone.”

He couldn’t take three in a fight. Not with his fists, anyways, and other means were not for fighting people.

“I’m a Belmont! I wouldn’t curse or bewitch anyone!”

“Oh really?” Gregor sneered. Suddenly, the older boy pushed him roughly. Juste stumbled back, his foot catching on a cobble stone jutting out behind him. When he hit the ground, a singing, stinging burst of pain rang through his arm, and he felt something warm spread from his elbow. The other boy loomed over him, a cruel grimace showing his missing tooth.

“Word in the village is you killed your own mother when you were born. All the adults know it. Everyone knows it. So who says you won’t kill again?”

One of the other two boys kicked Juste hard in the side as he tried to lift himself back up. He let out a sharp cry.

“My mother says the Belmonts kill monsters. I hope they kill you soon, too. It’s what you people do, right?”

Juste didn’t know which one of the three said that, only that it scared him. Was this truly how his family felt about him? Somewhere above him, a massive tree branch snapped off in a burst of blue sparks, hitting the ground next to all of them.

Juste’s voice cracked. “Grandpa wouldn’t—”

Another harsh kick interrupted him, this time against his face.

But before one of his attackers could speak, one of them was taken down in a roar by a flash of black curls and yellow.

“You leave him alone!”, a girl’s voice rang out, loud and clear, as she ran to tackle another teen.

Maxim and Lydie were here.

— — —

With a sniffle, Juste was back in the present.

He looked at his grandpa Simon, who still looked at him — not at all like he sometimes looked at townsfolk. Sometimes, his eyes would be cold and piercing and deadly like the frost that covered their windows in winter. But that wasn’t how grandpa looked at him. Grandpa’s eyes were warm, and worried, and concerned.

Juste shot a quick glance at Lydie and Maxim, who regarded him just as worriedly.

He pulled his hands out of Simon’s, hugging them to himself tightly. Maybe Gregor and the other boys were right. After all, had he not just broken some of their family portraits?

“Nothing happened, Grandpa,” he lied. “Just a branch that fell out of a tree, that’s all.”

“Oh?” Grandpa didn’t sound convinced.

“It’s true, Master Belmont! Maxim and I were caught in it as well!”

“What they said!”

Grandpa let out a big sigh and got up, running a hand through his hair. It used to have a lot more red in it, but now, it was mainly grey. Juste wondered if his own hair would turn red when he got old, since it was already white now.

“Fine—” grandpa sounded tired, and a hand rested on the Vampire Killer on his hip “— fine. I’m getting you three cleaned up either way.”

“And if it is like that outside,” grandpa added, punctuated with another piercing stare, “you kids should stay the night. You all can go home tomorrow morning.”

— — —

Later that night, Juste couldn’t sleep.

Grandma had stuck them all in one room, saying that they were at an age where it was ok for them to share a room like that. His grandparents were always very nice to him.

“Maxim! Lydie!”

He was rewarded with sleepy grunts from both of them.

“Do you think I’ll turn into a demon?”

There. He said it. It had been on his mind ever since Gregor had accused him of only waiting for the right moment to kill people.

“If you do, I’ll beat you up until you are Juste again,” Maxim mumbled back, turning around. The other boy fell back asleep almost immediately.

Lydie huddled closer towards him. “And I’ll just tell you about how we are friends until you remember again, too. Or we become monsters with you.”

Then again, Soleil Belmont had been a demon too, and he was fine afterwards. He came back. And his dad had still loved him. The Belmonts still told stories of him, filled with fondness and love. The story of how great—great—grandpa Christopher had fought Dracula to save his son was one of Juste’s favourites.

“Thank you. For doing that for me.”

He didn’t get replies, and only heard the others breathing softly.

He would be okay.

#whumptober2021 #no.4 #pushed #castlevania #fic #blood #graphic violence #simon belmont #juste belmont #lydie erlanger #maxim kischine #belmont clan #acidtober2021 #acid writing #kids are assholes #i love these vampire hunters and i am emotions

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98prilla · 4 years

Text

Hidden Shapes

AO3

...

He runs.

He runs past Patton, he shoves open his door, locks it behind him, then lunges through the portal hidden under his bed that Remus had installed years ago, when he’d first moved to the light side, a shortcut to his imagination, to the dark side. He pulls the trapdoor shut behind him, landing on the forest floor with barely a sound.

Colors are brighter, stranger, he’s pretty sure in this form he can actually see colors others can’t, see at a spectrum impossible for humans, since he isn’t, not really. That thought chokes a sob out of him, though it comes out as more of a growling hiss, and he throws himself back into movement, speeding across the ground, jumping up, into the trees, when they become too dense, seeing the cliff approaching, but not slowing, he braces himself, springs, his stomach flip flopping as he drops-

Then he shoots his web and latches onto the trees on the other side, swinging across the canyon. If he were in a better mood, he’d be laughing right now, at the feel of the wind, at moving so fast, at letting himself go, more than he has in years, letting himself go feral, but he isn’t, his heart is pounding and his breath is speeding and he’s moving, faster and faster, and faster-

Then, suddenly, there’s no more trees.

He doesn’t have time to stop his momentum. He manages to web the ground, before he crashes onto it, letting his shoulder impact first, easily slipping into a barrel roll, before losing control and tumbling across the earth, head spinning as he finally comes to a stop, hissing through clenched teeth as he sits up, taking in the damage.

His shoulder is bruised to hell, and scraped raw and bloody, and so are his legs, his hands, though his appendages are intact. There’s a gash on his forehead, and he curses, pulling his sleeve over his hand, pressing it against the wound to try and staunch the bleeding, letting out another hissing breath at the ache in his chest, a bruised or cracked rib.

He’s crying. He doesn’t know when it started, he feels too numb to cry, but he is, a steady, endless flow of tears that wash down his face, and he squeezes his eyes closed, doubling over, legs closing in around him, hiding him from view.

“Hello, little one.” He nearly jumps, at the sudden low and sonorous voice, but he doesn’t care, he simply curls tighter, trying to suppress the pathetic whimper trying to escape his lips. “You aren’t one of the usual resident monstrosities of Remus’s design. Are you new?” He flinches hard, this time, realizing what he’s being mistaken for, because he must truly look horrendous, and Patton, god, Patton, not to mention Roman, once he hears, and Logan will just want to study him, dissect him, like some specimen, he doesn’t want to be the monster, he isn’t, he isn’t, he isn’theisn’theisn’t- “Let me take a look at you, darling. I can help make it better.” He pulls his legs in tighter, shaking, forcing words to his lips.

“N-no. G-g-go away.” He hisses, and he hears a sharp inhale.

“Anxiety. You… aren’t supposed to be here.” He laughs, at that, a cold, hard, bitter laugh.

“look at me. Where else could I go?” He bares his fangs, eyes flashing and shadows growing as he feels hands pushing aside his legs, gently tipping his chin up, meeting the orange cat’s eyes of the dragon witch.

“I remember a time when you wore this form more often than not. You and Remus were feral little things, more beast than man, some days, all shadowy blobs of too many teeth and limbs and claws, with your venomous bites and poison laced scratches, I remember when you’d spend hours, weaving the most wonderous tapestries, that sparkled so brilliantly, in the morning dew. Or ones near invisible, that would trip up Remus, as he tried to invade your lair. Once you wouldn’t have consolidated monstrous, with evil, they are different. Plenty of monstrous things are still beautiful, after all. Plenty of monstrous things are still smart, and kind, and sweet, little one. I would have hoped that to be a lesson you remembered, still.” Her words are soft and gentle as she caresses his cheek, a tender smile on her lips. “I haven’t forgotten, my tiny terror.” He folds, falling into her open arms and sobbing, letting it all go, as her near black wings enfold them both, her tail gently coiling around his feet. She doesn’t say anything, simply holds him, rocks him as he cries, promising safety with her steady presence, her slightly hotter than normal warmth. “I gather from your state you don’t want to go back to the world?” He shakes his head frantically, not moving from his place in her arms. “alright, darling. Hold on tight, for a moment.” He feels a slight vertigo, the world running like a watercolor painting, before resettling to a homey looking cottage, a fire lit and providing gentle warmth, the floors covered in soft rugs, the smell of cinnamon and something else, something warm and fizzing and popping in the air. Magic.

“If you want tea, you’ll have to let go.” He does with a slightly rueful smile, one she adores, and she brushes back his hair, before moving to put the kettle on, getting her favorite teacup from the cupboard, along with a black and white chipped jack Skellington mug.

“you still have that?” He says, voice coming out hoarse, as he pulls himself into one of the surprisingly comfy wooden chairs surrounding the small table in the kitchen, watching as she bustles about.

“Of course. I hoped I’d have occasion to use it again. Though I admit I hoped it would be under better circumstances.” He winces, looking away.

“sorry. For not visiting. I… I should have. Me and Ree hadn’t been on the best terms, for… well, for a while. I didn’t want to chance being caught here by myself.”

“Yes. I heard all about it, believe me. He fluctuated between grief, despair, and unmitigated rage, before settling on a scarily distant disdain. Any mention of you and he just… shut down.”

“sorry.” He whispers again, to her soft huff.

“Stop apologizing, darling. I’m not placing blame or accusing. I know you had your reasons. Now, let me have a look at you, we can’t have those getting infected, and you know they will.” He groans, wincing as he pulls his sleeve away from his forehead.

“But it stings!” He whines, making her laugh, as she gathers the warm water and soft hand towel.

“You’ve had worse, Anxiety. And unless you want me to summon Remus to instant heal you, we’ll have to do it the old fashioned way.” Her voice is slightly stern now, the same tone Patton always takes, when scolding them or breaking up a fight, and he smiles slightly, glancing up at her.

“alright. It’s, um, Virgil, now, by the way.” She smiles, coming around the table and gently dabbing away the dried blood from the gash, wincing in sympathy as he grits his teeth, before patting it dry and securing gauze. “Ah. It suits you, I think." He pulls up his pants to reveal his skinned knees, his shins peppered with scrapes, though nothing there is hurt too badly, though it still stings like a son of a gun. They’re just finishing looking at his shoulder, her turning away to get an icepack for it, when he hears the tell tale swing of the doggy door, small scratching against the mat in the entryway.

“Oh, god-“ He manages to just barely brace himself, as a ball of icy silvery blue barrels into his chest, knocking his chair over backwards, sending his arms pinwheeling before he collides with the floor, his fall slowed slightly by a quick spell, that lowers him gently the last inch to avoid concussing him. He doesn’t have time to thank her, however, as his face is getting destroyed by licks, and he can’t get a word out edgewise, between his pleas to stop, and his gasping laughter.

“Nilas, stop, down girl, NiNi!” He laughs, finally managing to get the large cat sized dragon under control, though her tail still whipped wildly, and when he rolled out of the chair to sit up on the floor, she instantly climbed his shirt, draping herself around his shoulders, tail hanging off one, curling around his upper bicep to keep herself steady, her head resting on her paws on his other. He laughs again at her low, contented chuffing, the equivalent of a dragon purr, as he scratches her head. “Happy to see me, huh?” She buts her head against his cheek in response, before giving it one more lick, before laying back down on her paws, though her head stays tucked up against his face.

“Yeah. I missed you too, Nilas.” He mumbles, pain forgotten in the face of a happy dragon snuggling against him, a soothing, perfect weight that grounds him, helps him breathe a little easier against the stress slowly fading away. He rights the chair and slips back into it, taking the mug that she sets in front of him.

“Roman still giving you trouble?” He asks, after a few moments in comfortable silence, taking a sip of the tea, which is deep and herbal, just a hint of sweetness from the honey. She scowls, and he can hear her tail sweeping across the floor.

“Don’t get me started. I enjoy playing his games, but that boy has not given me a moments peace. Do you know how hard it is, to swap into evil enchantress mode, when your nemesis has showed up in the middle of you baking? I had a pie in the oven and I couldn’t stop worrying it was going to burn.”

“did it?” he asks, grinning.

“No. I told him he’d better stop wasting his time with me, and worry about my agents infiltrating the castle, and he took off. There weren’t any, of course, from what I understand he had a lovely game of whodunnit about the royal crown, though it turned out he’d simply misplaced it.” Virgil laughed, imagining Roman frantically running around, accusing random townspeople, making one of those red string conspiracy cork boards, only to find it under his bed.

“Oh, that’s amazing.” He finally wheezes through his giggling, taking another long sip of his tea, before yawning hugely.

“alright, enough catching up. To bed with you.”

“but-"

“uh, uh, uh, you know the drill. You’ll be falling out of the chair soon, anyway.” She teases gently, helping support him as he stands, a bit wobbly on his feet, another yawn impossible to stifle sneaking through.

“Curse my traitorous body.” He mutters, making her laugh, as he lays down on the cot in the dark corner of the living room, pulling all the fluffy blankets up so high they nearly cover his head, Nilas circling a few times, before curling up snuggled against his chest, kneading her paws contentedly.

“sweet dreams, tiny terror.” She murmurs, kissing his forehead fondly, as his eyes flutter shut. “sleep well. You could use it.”

“mhm. Thanks, Tabitha. Love you.” He mumbles, drifting off, a small smile on his lips as he rests his head against Nilas.

She smiles, stroking his hair a few more times before pulling away, a low sigh slipping from her lips.

Well. No doubt Remus would appear soon, and he could explain what had sent Virgil into such a tizzy, though no doubt it was something to do with the others. He wouldn’t have been so scared of himself, otherwise. He was never scared of himself, until he started hanging around them. He used to revel in causing mayhem, tearing through the imagination, scrapping with Remus, winning, more often than not, on his own merit. He was such a small little shadow, but so fierce, with those eyes of his, peeking guardedly through his mop of hair, an almost perpetual frown on his face, always braced for the worst.

But he was kind, too. The first day she'd come across him alone, he’d glared at her, hissed, baring his fangs and scuttling backwards, ready to bite.

She’d knelt down, almost as surprised to see him as he clearly was to see her.

“hello, little one. What are you doing, out here alone?” He hadn’t answered, merely continued to glare, tensed to spring or run. She’d hummed, looking around, the field was full of knee high grass, his head barely poking above the stalks, wildflowers filling the space, butterflies (both literal and figurative) drifting through the air. A distant shout rang through the imagination, an echo of whatever turmoil was occurring up in the rest of the mind, and he flinched, curling in on himself, breath catching.

“ah. Trying to find some quiet, until the storm blows over.” The little shadow nodded, watching a bee struggle to stay atop a flower blowing in the breeze, before reaching out and holding it steady, a small smile crossing his face as he leaned in, watching the bee burry its head in the pollen. “Well, don’t mind me, then. Is it alright, if I stay here to read? I won’t bother you.” A moment passed, but he nodded solemnly, watching the bee flit away, before fixing his gaze on her, which she studiously ignored, studying her book while watching out of the corner of her eye.

Another echoing shout, almost like a thunder crash, and he let out a little shriek. Before she could ask if he was okay, the little shadow had scuttled closer, throwing himself onto her lap and curled in a shivering ball, hiding himself under her cloak.

“Oh, darling, it’s alright. They won’t hurt you here, I promise.” He hadn’t uncurled, and she’d hesitantly wrapped an arm around him, brushing through his hair with her other hand, humming softly, until she felt him slowly start to uncurl, realizing finally he’d fallen asleep, tiny hands clutching at her shirt, impossible to pry off even if she’d wanted to.

When Creativity and Deceit panicked later, realizing Anxiety had been missing all day, they were surprised to find him happily coloring on the floor of the witch’s cottage, dark aura dispersed enough they could actually see his body, a dragon curled around him protectively.

The next day he’d shown back up on her doorstep, a bit shyer, but no less brave, holding out a flower crown, painstakingly woven with colorful flowers, and it may have been the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. From then on, Anxiety, or Virgil, now, was as good as hers, under her protection, always welcome, always at home in her home. Her baby, her shadow, her tiny terror.

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littleladymab · 4 years

Text

Say thank you to @mischief-mistlefoe and @that-one-girl-behind-you who combined their powers to bring you: blupjeans practicing for their musical exam

++++

Barry finds Lup in the practice room that they’ve claimed as their own for the upcoming exam. Technically, all practice rooms are open to any of the students, but Lup designed a keep out sign that threatened immolation of any intruder and no one thought to verify the truth of her claim.

Even Barry knocks before entering, and he’s authorized to use the room.

But he can hear the hint of an angry run of sixteenth notes, up and down the scale, all the way from the front door to the building, and he knows: It’s going to be one of those days, so he had better knock.

She restarts the run seven times, finishes only twice, and cuts off in the middle of the complicated jump in the fourth measure to swear loudly and profanely more times than Barry can count. Nothing is soundproof enough against Lup’s anger.

“What?” she snarls at the sound of his knock. And then she is standing in the doorway, staring at him in surprise. “Oh, sorry,” she says sheepishly and steps out of the way.

“Sorry,” he echoes as he follows after her and closes the door behind him. “I know I said that I was going to take a break, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about the song.”

“Tell me about it,” she grumbles, aiming a kick at the wire music stand and making it rattle ominously.

Barry can feel her attention on him as he slings off his bag and dumps it and his sweater into a pile by one of the piano’s legs. “Can I help?”

Lup thinks about this, tapping the tip of her bow against her pursed lips. “Can you play louder during that run so no one can hear me?”

He gives a faint huff of laughter and pulls out the piano bench. “I think you’ll remember that I barely play at all during that segment.” The lid to the keyboard is already raised, though he remembers closing it before they left the night before. She must have used it to tune, or to vent her frustration with some tuneless banging.

Barry knows the notes by heart at this point, and strikes the chords in quick succession.

There’s a weary sigh from the woman behind him, and then suddenly she’s on the bench next to him — leaning her back against his, idly plucking her strings. “It’s not too late to change the song, is it?”

“It’s extremely too late to change the song.”

She groans and slips down.

Barry starts to turn around to try and reassure her, her bow catches him right on the bridge of his nose and knocks his glasses askew.

Lup jerks upright immediately, the bow clattering from between her fingers as she reaches out for him. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine,” he stutters as her fingers graze his in an attempt to straighten his glasses. “Don’t drop your violin.”

She’s frozen mid-twist, still half slumped off the bench, using one elbow to keep herself propped up. “If I break my violin, do you think they’ll give us an automatic pass?”

“No,” he says, and tries to find somewhere else to look that isn’t down at her.

He finds solace in the sheet music sticking out of his bag, so he leans over to pull it free and busies himself with arranging the pages.

There is a faint plink of strings and keys, and Barry looks over to find that Lup has deposited her violin on the piano so that she can resume her slouch unhindered on the half of the piano bench (though the space she claims only grows as he tries to stay out of her way). He has to reach out to steady the violin before it can topple over, setting it on top of the piano for safe keeping.

“I’m going to take a break,” Lup grumbles into her forearm as she somehow manages to make the piano bench look like a chaise lounge. “Go on without me.”

“I can’t go on without you,” Barry says without thinking, and he gets a quick wide-eyed look from Lup before she completely slips over the edge of the bench and falls to the ground with a yelp. Caught suddenly between a mortifying sense of embarrassment and overwhelming concern, he leans over to check on her.

She strikes a pose from the ground, grin crooked and hair and clothes disheveled. “Do you think they’ll give you an automatic pass if I die?”

Barry decides that being annoyed is the safer answer to her teasing. “Don’t abuse the system.”

“You can play a mournful piano solo at my funeral and I’ll have Taako record it so I can cry about what a beautiful corpse I make.”

“Lup—”

“I’ll be back in no time! You’ll barely even notice that I’m gone.”

“Of course I’ll notice!” he cuts in, and does quite a miraculous job at ignoring the fact that he must be blushing right now.

She’s back to that wide-eyed stare of shock, and the grin slips from her features.

Barry stoops down to grab her bow and uses it to emphasize he points by pointing it at her face. “Now! You can have a break for as long as it takes me to warm up, and then you are going to grab your violin and you are going to practice with me. And so help me to whatever gods are in this universe, we are going to ace this exam, and do you know why?”

Lup shakes her head, speechless.

“Because we are gods damned good at what we do and we do not take shortcuts and I believe in us, alright?” Barry sucks in a lungful of air and lets it out on a wheezing rush that sort of greatly diminishes the effect he was going for.

A small, awed grin slips onto Lup’s face and she pushes herself upright to sit cross-legged next to the stool — leaning in so she can fold her arms on top of it and rest her chin upon her arms. “That was pretty cool of you, Barold.”

“Thank you,” he says emphatically, and immediately regrets it. “I don’t know why I said that.”

She laughs and swats playfully at his knee. “Alright! I feel inspired!” She hops to her feet and stretches her arms over her head with a delighted little noise. “Warm up those music fingers, Piano Boy, we got a song to practice.”

He gives her a shaky smile as she ruffles his hair. “Right…” He turns back to stare at the black and white keys arrayed before him — aware of her warmth as she leans over to retrieve her violin, aware of her.

And then he places his fingers onto the keys, and everything else slips away.

#the adventure zone #blupjeans #i love and miss them daily #a lil miss fic

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darlingrutherford · 4 years

Text

Kinktober Day 19

Happy Dragon Age Day! I wanted to put out a bit of fun today in honor of the celebration, so here’s long overdue prompt 19 from my Kinktober list.

This prompt was made from a combination of two anonymous submissions, one asking for a pregnancy kink between Cullen and Sarya, and another requesting “avvar!cullen fucking the inquis. from the back.” This is a short one-shot AU, and I left out a lot of back story that would probably explain Sarya’s choices in this just for the sake of the kinky story, so, roll with it ;)

It hadn't only been her silver-white hair and piercing green eyes that had caught his attention. For an Avvar, picking a partner rarely held beauty as the deciding factor, though it never hurt. It had been the way she had run to the aid of Cullen and his three brethren as demons had crept from the green tear in the air, how she had ripped through their flaming bodies as if they were made of wheat. A Dalish mage, aiding the Avvar. It was almost unheard of. Unneeded, certainly, as they were more than capable of tearing the demons limb from limb themselves. Yet she had run from her passing clan with their aravels on the hill, summoning lightning to strike through the bodies of the demons like the Lady of the Sky Herself before vanishing them into hues of green that back into the tear in the sky with screams of their own. As the tear had calmed and the demons ceased to appear, they had locked eyes, she with hers, eyes like shining emeralds, and he with his, deep like flaming amber and gold. Her cheeks had flushed as her chest rose and fell with rapid breath from the battle. As four of her clan approached to ensure all was well, he had watched her eyes travel over him in interest. The green tattoos on her cheeks, favors for her elven gods, were delicate in comparison to the blue that painted his face and chest, but he could only assume she must have been blessed by Hakkon Himself to fight so fiercely and not be one of his own. And as her clan led her away and she had looked at him once more with a flaming desire in her eyes that matched his own, he knew theirs had been no chance meeting.

The Avvar were adept hunters, and Cullen knew the importance of patience. He waited until the moon had risen, full in the sky to bathe the lowlands in white. He watched as many of the Dalish clan had gone to sleep and he had seen the woman with the silver-white hair retire to her tent alone. Then, he crept into the land, moving quietly before slipping into her tent without notice.

Her eyes had been wide in the dark, shining from what little light filtered through the fabric that surrounded them. Her shout was muffled by his firm hand, until flame illuminated the tent in her palm. And then she had clearly seen his face, the same paint streaked across it like blue blood that her flames danced across, golden amber eyes that looked upon her with more want than she had ever seen in her life, and the flame in her palm extinguished. Her hands slid into his long, golden curls as he pulled her close, and their lips locked as a quiet whimper left her throat. Cullen's fingers slid up her neck and into her hair, gripping and pulling at it until her head tilted back.

“I know why you're here. I know of the Avvar ways,” she whispered into the dark, careful not to make too much noise as the sound of others still awake drifted close to the tent.

“What do you know of us?” He asked as his lips trailed her jaw, and he felt her body tremble in excitement from his voice.

“My Keeper told me how you steal your women under the light of the moon, never to be seen again,” she breathed. As his teeth grazed her neck, he chuckled lowly against her skin, not unaware of the extravagant rumors lowlanders spread of the Avvar.

“Not without permission...To take without consent of the elders is punished by death,” he spoke. She whimpered as he bit at the crook of her neck, and her fingers slid to his chest, grating over the dried paint to grip at his bare skin.

“I won't be given by any word but my own,” she breathed. Her breath hitched in the back of her throat as his hand cupped her through the fabric of her cotton breeches. His face lifted to gaze at her, and when their eyes met and he saw the desire in her eyes and the hope that lived just behind that, he understood.

Cullen lifted her, throwing her over his shoulder. The voices still lingering near the front of her tent, he grabbed the dagger at his side and cut straight down the back of the tent before stepping out into the moonlight and taking off into the hills. His grip on her thighs remained tight, holding them close to his chest as he made his way through the mountains and towards his Hold. She was quiet along the way, breaths of air only escaping her in any semblance of a protest whenever he dropped down from a height. Cullen took no shortcuts, allowing her plenty of opportunity to change her mind, yet she said nothing. Before long, they had reached the Hold, and he carried her through the archway of his dwellings, lit only by the moonlight that filtered through the wood. He set her on his fur ladened bed, then began removing the leathers that adorned him.

“What are you called?” He asked.

“Sarya.” The name left her quietly, as if still afraid to be heard. He grinned for a moment, knowing full well how many had witnessed his return with her, hidden in the dark as they kept watch on the Hold. Reaching for the dagger at his thigh, her heart began racing as he pointed it towards her chest, yet her magic remained still. Then he gently took the collar of her shirt, and with the tip of the dagger he tore at the fabric, slowly ripping it to her navel until it was in two. He repeated the motion with her breeches, then her smalls, tearing them from her body and tossing them to the floor.

“You won't be needing those anymore, Sarya.”

Cullen slid onto the bed, taking her in his arms as he kissed her. She clung to his lips as if they were a pure life essence, licking at them and tracing a scar that ran along their corner. She gasped against his lips as he slipped a finger into her heat, then two, coaxing out more of her wetness as he readied her. He nipped at her jaw, her neck, her breasts, anywhere he could suck and bite and mark her as his own. She felt him shifting as his fingers slid from her, removing the rest of his clothing before he grabbed her hips.

“Wait,” she said suddenly, and he paused his motion, waiting in silence for her to explain her outburst as he wondered what she could possibly want to stop for now that she was so far from home. “Does this mean I'm to stay here? With you.”

“Is that what you want?” He asked. Their rules were greyer when choosing from outside the Avvar; being a lowlander, if she agreed to it, he need not ask permission from anyone else for the sake of avoiding a blood feud. If she had changed her mind… Well, that was her decision to make, and he didn't long for death more than any other man.

“It is.” She nodded, and he needed no further explanation. She had already shown her willingness to defend him and his people. He would be questioned for sure, bringing a lowlander to his Hold without any mention, but his desire for her and her want to choose for herself was undeniable. If she wished to stay, then he would be glad for it.

“Then yes. You shall stay with me, for as long as you please.”

“Tell me your name.”

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk. He sat up on his knees, and she followed him, eyes eager as they traveled over him.

“Cullen.”

She ran her hand down his chest, fingers gliding across the dried blue paint that stained his skin. And when her eyes met his again, he could feel the weight of her desire.

“Then I trust you'll give me my fill, Cullen. My clan will not understand, unless I grow one of your own.”

“With Rilla’s will, I'll see it done,” he growled. His hands gripped her hips, turning her to face away before holding her close. His cock slid with ease along her slick, and she whimpered as he teased her while grasping at her breast. Her back to his chest, Cullen slid down before guiding himself to her heat.

Sarya cried out as he pressed into her. It was the first thing he had heard from her void of a whisper, and he desperately wanted - no, needed more. She sighed as he nearly removed his cock, then slowly pressed back in to bury himself in her to the hilt. Gods, she felt incredible. He could feel her heart beat against her breast, heavy and quick as she moaned under his touch. Her voice made his skin shiver, and as his hand slid down to grip her thigh he felt the muscle quiver beneath his touch. She began slouching from his slow thrusts, overwhelmed by the feel of him. He ran his other hand along her skin, up her body to firmly grip her neck as he pulled her flush against his chest. Sarya's mouth hung open as the back of her head rested against his shoulder, heavy gasps leaving her as his hips began slapping against her backside.

“You want me to fill you, Sarya?” He asked, his breath husky in her ear. She moaned loudly in response, her voice strangled in her ecstasy.

“Gods, yes, please,” she gasped. Her hand grasped behind her at his thigh for purchase as her legs shook, while her other stretched to tangle in his hair at the back of his head. The way his cock filled her, stretched her, it was unlike anything she had felt before.

“Until you're full of my seed and your belly swells with an Avvar of your own?”

“Fuck, yes!” She cried out. “Fill me with your child, so everyone knows what we've done!”

Cullen grabbed a fistful of her hair, pushing her forward. Her hands caught against the furs, her back arched as her head strained to ease his pull on her hair just slightly. His other hand gripped at her hip, pulling her backwards towards him as he thrust forward in time. In the moonlight he could see the faint smudges on her back where his blue paint had rubbed off onto her, streaks of blue made liquid again by their sweat and heat. Their bodies met one another with salacious slaps, and Sarya's voice echoed out of the hut into the night as she cried out his name. Wanton moans carried from her throat, words he couldn't understand as she encouraged him in her people's tongue. He needed no translation to know what she wished, releasing her hair to grip both hips as he increased the speed of his thrusts until her screams of pleasure became the sweetest music to his ears. For a moment she became ever louder, and Cullen wondered if she would wake the entire Frostbacks, until her legs quaked as she came undone beneath him in a flurry of gasps. She slumped slightly, her forehead touching the furs on the bed as he held her hips in place, his body snapping towards her in one last, great thrust as her quivering sent him over his edge as he groaned loudly and spilled into her.

Sarya slumped onto her elbows, whimpering as she felt Cullen pulsing in her. He held her hips in place for a moment, his body flush with her backside as he ensured his release of every last drop. When he finally slid from her heat, they groaned in unison and she fell to her side, her legs tightly clenched together and a grin on her face. Cullen pulled one of the furs from beneath her, draping it over the two of them as he slid next to her. His breath was still heavy as she scooted closer to him, quickly finding his lips and sharing a string of appreciative kisses. Gods, but she was perfect. Theirs had been no chance meeting. After this, he knew their nights would be filled with plentiful opportunities to make her swell. He would later give two offerings, one to Rilla and another to Hakkon, for working as one to bring them together.

“How good are you at tying tight knots?” He breathed as her head hit the bed once more. He slid his arm beneath her neck, and she eagerly nuzzled her face against his shoulder as he pulled her close.

“Not great,” she admitted with a laughed. He grinned widely, pulling her close as he closed his eyes.

“Good.”

#kinktober #avvar!au #cullen rutherford #cullavellan #sarya lavellan #avvar!cullen #fanfiction #lemons #spicy #my ocs #my work

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flatcherriley95 · 4 years

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How Do I Win My Ex Girlfriend Heart Back

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How To Know If I Can Get My Ex Back

#Adding Your Ex Back On Social Media Cheap And Easy Tips #How To Know My Ex Will Never Come Back

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softjeon · 5 years

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Piece me together | Pt. 3

• Pairing: Jimin x Namjoon • Genre: Angst | Detective!AU / Stalker!AU • Words: 8,1k | written with @cassiavioletblue • Disclaimer: mentioning of drugs / guns / blood / abuse / violence

↳ Namjoon had a case to worry about and still he found himself coming back to this diner each time. Maybe it was because of the delicious milkshakes or maybe it was because of his favorite waiter that looked just as sweet.

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It was so easy to fall into the habit of wanting to be with Namjoon. So easy, to just let himself fall and trust that everything would be alright, completely forgetting about any consequences, because it felt too good. For the first time, Jimin smiled genuinely and even though he pulled his hoodie deep into his face each time, he still held onto Namjoon’s hand on their way home.

They made it a routine to always take a different way and Namjoon had just accepted it. It seemed almost perfect as they were getting to know each other, holding each other’s hands so tightly, neither wanting to let go. And if Namjoon had a night shift, Jimin simply texted him with his new phone, sending him sweet emojis to make his night a little better, leaving Namjoon worrying about his sleeping habits. Jimin, however, was just hoping and dreaming about to be with Namjoon. It was so close. He could almost touch it, taste it, feel it in his very bones.

…

“What kind of case are you working on right now?” Jimin said, laying his chin on his hand, licking over his ice cream cone to keep the delicious treat from melting, as they sat on the stairs right behind the back door of the restaurant. He had taken his lunch break before Namjoon had to head off to the police department and the detective had surprised him with some ice cream. It was weird to be in the alley the attack had happened, but Jimin figured the daylight brought a different feeling to it. It made him feel safer in a way. Jimin chuckled at Namjoon’s expression, “If I want to get to know you, I have to get to know your job as well right? I will tell you to stop…if I don’t want to hear more and I know you can’t tell me everything because no details…or tell me about Yon- what was his name again?”

“Yoongi? There’s not much to say about him. He’s the silent type who can look at you in a way that spares him the effort to talk while you know exactly what he thinks about you. He’s nicer than he pretends to be. And if you get him together with Jungkook, well...you better not. Unless you can handle being overwhelmed. I honestly don’t know how I manage to get work done with those two around…” As this made it sound as if they were awful at their jobs he quickly added, “They kick ass though. Quite literally In Jungkook’s case. If you need someone persistent and passionate, someone you know will always have your back - then they are perfect.” He sighed, “It doesn’t help with this case though. As you already figured out I can’t tell you anything about an open case. Just... you probably know enough without me telling you anything already. It’s not exactly subtle what’s happening in this city.”

Jimin had listened up when Namjoon mentioned the happenings, the amount of drug business and unfortunately too many deaths of victims of the new drug that was circulating at the moment. He averted his gaze down to his feet, nodding while Namjoon was grousing how hard it was to solve a case when you had absolutely no clues and if they had one – it lead to nothing. “You must be really good if the chief only puts you onto one case, right?” Jimin brushed through his hair, watching the ice cream melt right over the tip of his fingers, “I’d like to meet them one day. Jungkook and Yoongi, I mean.”

“Really?” He had thought that Jimin wanted to avoid police people at all cost, “Sure, tell me when and we can meet up for lunch. They are bothering me about you all the time anyway.” At Jimin’s scared expression he hastily clarified. “I didn’t tell them anything about you. They just noticed how there must be someone different in my life as I am texting regularly and ‘just behaving strange in general’ as Jungkook had put it. But they don’t know anything about how we meet or what your story is.”

“G-good,” Jimin still couldn’t relax. It felt weird to be a part of someone else’s life again that wasn’t Taehyung. It felt good and scary at the same time. He was finding out parts about himself, that he thought he had lost or simply forgotten about, as he had been molding himself into the perfect one for Taehyung. To not anger him. To not make him jealous. Everything was about him…and now, it was about them.

Namjoon and Jimin.

The younger looked at how Namjoon was struggling with the ice cream cone next to him, trying to lick off as much and as fast as he could, making him chuckle. “Come here,” Jimin turned Namjoon around with a light grip on his chin, “You got ice cream all over yourself.” He giggled, wiping over the sticky crème with his thumb, his eyes glued on Namjoon’s lips for a little bit too long. Their eyes locked and Namjoon moved on autopilot. He had wanted to let Jimin set the pace, but his eyes were fixated on the younger’s plush, soft lips and before the rational part of his brain could intervene he had closed the distance between them and kissed the breath right from Jimin’s sweet, ice- cream flavored mouth.

When their lips met his mind went blank and only when he could feel Jimin exhale a shuddered breath did he realize what he had been doing. He quickly separated from him, looking at him with wide eyes. “Ah, shit, I’m.. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Jimin’s eyes flickered over to Namjoon’s ice cream that was successfully dripping all over his hand. This time the younger leaned in and kissed him, just as softly and sweet, “I like kissing you. So, don’t apologize for something that I enjoy.” Jimin stole one more quick kiss and then leaned back, before adding nonchalantly, “Aren’t you coming too late?” He stretched out his arm so Namjoon could read his watch that was loosely hanging around his wrist.

How could he not be gone for someone as sweet as Jimin? However, their sweet little lunch date was interrupted by the cruel watch that showed Namjoon that the other was right.

He cursed and got up hastily, pressing the ice cream in Jimin’s hand. “Here, you can eat it - I have to hurry…text me when you’re home, okay?” He leaned forward to give the other a chaste kiss on the cheek as goodbye and then tried to quickly walk away without full on running back to the police station.

…

Jimin looked on his phone the hundredth time, hoping to see a text back from Namjoon soon. He was aware of the detective working a night shift tonight, hence why he had visited him right before going to work, but still Jimin missed him already. How had it been so easy for the other to sneak a way into his heart? Jimin shook his head, sighing deeply as he began to clean up the bar while he listened to Jin humming happily to a song that was played in the radio.

“I think he is really good for you,” He suddenly directed at Jimin and the younger cocked up his head. “Huh? What…who?”

“The tall guy? Our ‘single guy’? Or not so single anymore?” Jin leaned over the counter, making Jimin laugh softly. “Yeah, I think so, too. He is good, you know. Namjoon has a big heart. I think I like him a lot.” He pulled at his bottom lip with his teeth, before quickly adding, “I’ll take out the trash and then head home or do you still need me for anything?” Jimin smiled when his boss shook his head. Even though Namjoon wasn’t waiting for him this time, Jimin tried to get dressed as quick as possible, pushing his dirty uniform into his bag and the phone in the back pocket of his jeans. Waving Jin goodbye, Jimin pulled the hoodie over his head and pushed his hands into the pocket of his jacket. A light breeze made him shiver, the streetlamps switching on one by one as he took the shortcut home, his gaze focused on the ground, mumbling the melody of the song Jin had been singing before. It was stuck in his head.

Just like the image of Namjoon.

He couldn’t wait to get home and see if he texted him, when suddenly something made him stop lingering on that beautiful thought. Jimin kept his pace steady and still he could feel someone right behind him. He was aware that his mind could play tricks on him and Taehyung hadn’t showed up in weeks, finally leaving him be and still everything in him screamed to get out of here. Jimin took a sharp turn and the stranger did too.

“No,” Jimin mumbled to himself, cursing himself for taking the shortcut to his home. He turned again, trying to make it out into the more open-streets, the one where they were many cafes and restaurants lining up to get out of the darker side-alleys in case something happened. Or maybe this was just some mind-games? His own fears finally catching up to him and making him scared for no reason at all? For a moment Jimin calmed. Just one second where he thought that finally everything could be alright and sharing ice cream flavored kisses with Namjoon could be something that he would be doing way more often in the future.

“Is this how it’s going to be now? You running from me and pretending I’m not even there?” Taehyung’s voice cut through the cool night air like a knife. “I thought you would come to your senses eventually. But you won’t, will you? This guy has poisoned your mind. Tell me, Minnie-baby, is he why you were acting all strange those last few months? Did he tell you to leave me?” Taehyung sounded calm, almost bored but Jimin knew better. The more nonchalant he got the more dangerous he was, and you never knew when his real anger would break its way out of him. So, he stood frozen, not even turning around and only the way Jimin was clenching his fists gave away how anxious he was right now. “He has nothing to do with it and you know that.” Jimin turned to look over his shoulder, his eyes quickly flickering over two other guys that stood close by, watching the scene unfold. “And you can’t go out without security anymore? What? Are you scared now?” Jimin huffed and turned to walk away, “I am done with you! You are the reason why I left. No one else but yourself is at fault.”

Taehyung’s face contorted, his beautiful features nothing but a mask of anger and hate. “I let you in, Jimin! I gave you my trust and my time and everything else you needed. You told me you loved me. And then you left just because you didn’t like the way I was earning money. What kind of love could that be, hm? The one where you liked the power that you got through me? You always enjoyed everything that came with being in my life. You practically soaked up the attention, the worship. And now I’m no longer good enough for you? You can’t just play me like that. Not without consequences.”

He came closer now, slowly, relaxed, as if he had all the time in the world.

“You’re not the one I loved anymore! They are dying because of you,” Jimin spun around, tears falling down his cheeks and he immediately brought more space between them, “It doesn’t work like that. Just stop it Tae! Just stop it all. You’re hurting people! You’re hurting me!” He laughed humorlessly, taking small steps back.

“Well aren’t you dramatic. They aren’t dying because of me. If you offer a healthy, happy person a way to destroy themselves and pay for it - do you really think they’d fall for it? Those aren’t people who do any good for society! Who cares if an addict takes a drug that destroys him a little faster? They would have killed themselves anyway. They are dying because of their own stupidity, or because they want to destroy themselves so badly they can’t do it fast enough or if you really want to play the upholder of moral standards then fucking blame society for letting some of their poor innocent children fall through the safety net and into the gutter. I don’t harm them. I help them. I provide them with what they need. If it wasn’t me it would be someone else. Or are you really so naive that you think if I just stopped selling those drugs everyone would magically get to be happy and healthy and free of addiction? Then you are even dumber than I thought.”

“It won’t matter, because I won’t come back. Ever.” With that Jimin turned around, speeding ahead as fast as he could. But it only took a jerk of his head from Taehyung to set his two men into motion.

“Make sure he gets the message!” Taehyung called after them. “But don’t hurt his pretty face. I want to be able to look at him when he comes back.”

…

“I hate night shifts. I just hate them. Why do we have to do them if we’re only on this case anyways?” Jungkook murmured as he stood in front of the pin board, going over every detail of the case once more. “Because there’s still our official duty as policemen and Namjoon is the only head detective in this shift…,” Yoongi got interrupted by Jungkook who was waving him off mid-sentence. “Yeah, yeah, blah, blah,” He let himself fall onto his boyfriends chair and pouted, “I still rather sleep right now.”

A knock on the door, made all three of them turn around, seeing one of the court medics from the medical jurisprudence downstairs through their glass door. “Hey guys,” She nodded at everyone, holding a file in her hand. “I have something that you guys need to see. We had another dead drug victim, only this time…there was something off. The drugs in the victim's body were the same one your guy is producing but,” She made a pause and gave the file over to Namjoon, “It was stretched…thinned out…with some sort of acid. The lab is still working on it. I had a victim like this last week, but I didn’t think much of it, because maybe they took cheaper drugs…but this is the second victim in a short amount of time…they don’t seem like a usual drug addict. It's horrible, honestly.” She turned to look at the other detectives and sighed, “Either it’s someone mingling with the gang’s business or they don’t have enough produce for the amount that is asked for…maybe it helps you guys. I will send you guys the report from the lab as soon as I have it.” She saluted them lazily with a smile and turned on her heel, leaving the trio with another puzzle piece. But there was no time to focus on it, when a sudden loud yell outside of their office drew their attention in again.

“Where are you taking him? I demand you to talk to me!” In his anger, he put his fist onto the table roughly, “He needs to see a doctor and not…y-you fools!” He groaned and got up from his chair, raking a hand through his hair in a desperate manner.

“Please, sir, I need you to calm down. The ambulance had checked him. You’ve been there, you saw that they cleared it. No broken bones.” The young police officer had his hands up in defense, “You wanted a legal proceeding and therefore we need to talk to him. Please let us do our jobs.”

Namjoon sighed deeply. A dead person in the morgue and someone yelling at the top of his lungs in the hallway, all in one nightshift. Great.

“I’ll deal with it.” He gave the other two a sign to stay seated and then went out of their office. It was probably just another drunken incident, but he better checked in case his colleague needed help. They were pretty young, and he didn’t want anyone to get harmed because someone couldn’t hold their liquor or tried to cause a ruckus. When he rounded the corner and saw the scene in front of him he stopped dead in his tracks. “Jin? What.. what are you doing here?” The other didn’t seem drunk.

The restaurant owner turned around at the sudden call of his name and his confused expression quickly turned into relief. “Thank god – oh wow, you’re an officer?” The sudden confusion was right back at its place, his eyes scanning the uniform quickly.

“Mr. Kim, we will handle it. It’s most likely a drunken fight and we need to talk to one of the victims about what had-,” The young officer got interrupted by his partner coming out of the interrogation room right behind them, looking rather exhausted. “He’s not talking…no chance,” Jisung sighed, pushing his hands onto his hips, “He just stares at the wall. We could keep him here for the night. Maybe he sobers up?”

“Of course, he is just staring at the wall! What do you think? Drunken fight? Are you crazy,… Jimin is not drunk! He’s never drunk! He was working…and on his way home!” Jin yelled out again, throwing his hands in the air furiously, before pointing at the police offers accusingly, “You guys are drunk!”

“Jimin? This is about Jimin?” Namjoon’s insides turned to ice the second the younger’s name got mentioned. “Is he hurt? Did his ex hurt him again?” He needed to check for himself, make sure that the other was alright. He had told him that he would keep him safe and that Jimin wouldn’t have to worry and now he was at the police station - just on the wrong side of the interrogation room.

He turned to his coworker, “Let me see if I can make him talk, he knows me.” At the other’s beginning objection, he quickly added, “Nothing that would be against the rules. I’m just a friendly face he might open up to. Let me see him, please.” Namjoon had never lied with feeling so little guilt about it.

His co-workers just shrugged their shoulders, taking a step away so Namjoon could go and see for himself. He was their superior - they wouldn’t have told him no anyways. So, while they were taking in Jin’s statement, the detective slowly opened the door to the interrogation room, not sure what he would find inside.

Jimin hid in his arms that he had laid out on the table, his eyes focused on the other side of the wall so there was nothing but pink faded hair Namjoon could see. The younger’s bruised knuckles were turning white with how hard he was holding onto his own arms, taking in a few shuddering breaths. Every breath hurt, leaving Jimin gasping in pain quietly. But any pain was better than the darkness that had pulled him under before. There were already patches on cheeks, a bandage around his elbow where the doctors from the ambulance had cut open his sweatshirt to reach the wound.

“Jimin?” At the familiar voice the boy slowly looked up. His face looked fine - except for his lip who looked as if he had accidentally bitten himself; split and dark red from remnants of dried blood. The younger licked nervously over it when he saw Namjoon and flinched reflexively at the sting. Namjoon pulled the chair out and sat down within a little distance, looking worriedly at the other.

“Do you want to maybe tell me what happened?” Honestly he was relieved to see Jimin still sitting here, from the way the other had been scared about his ex he would have expected broken bones or some other damage that would stay. From the way it looked though Jimin got lucky; he was hunched over as if in pain and there were scrapes and superficial cuts and bruises on his hands and everywhere else where you got them when you fell or tried to defend yourself - but apart from that he seemed fine. “If you can’t tell me who you might at least tell me ‘what’ and ‘how’, right? That can’t hurt. If we ask Jin we might as well get those information’s anyway. But maybe you can help us understand a little better what happened.” It was strange to treat Jimin like this when all he wanted to do was hug him and ask him if he was fine and how he could help. But there where policemen outside and a protocol to write and if he fucked this up he would get both of them in trouble.

“Jin doesn’t know.” Jimin’s voice sounded broken, small and his eyes flickered through the room nervously until it halted at the mirrored glass. “T-they are watching,” He whispered, wiping over his eyes with his sweater paw. “I don’t...I can’t be in here, it’s...it’s not my fault. I will tell you,” It was clear, not just from his shaking voice, how nervous Jimin was, “I didn’t d-do anything. I-I’m not supposed to be here...I’m...I…” The room seemed to close in on him again and even Namjoon’s presence didn’t calm him. It made him more nervous, shaking and shivering from the cold he felt. If Taehyung saw where he was right now then everything would be over. His breathing grew more shallow, his face paling even more making him look like a ghost. “D-don’t lock me in here, p-please.”

“Jimin, look at me!” He tried to ground Jimin by reaching out for his arm because It was obvious that Jimin was spiraling right now. “No one will lock you up. And no one is watching besides another officer and Jin outside. I don't know about Jin, but I can assure you that my colleague is safe to talk to. Neither of us is dirty, you can trust in our work.” He saw the fear in Jimin's eyes, his panicked expression. “You can't just worm your way out of this and then hope that you won't get hurt again! What if next time you don't get a concussion but a broken skull? Even if he doesn't mean to kill you he's not exactly gentle either. Let me help you Jimin! Tell me what I need to do to make sure you are safe.”

Jimin closed his eyes in desperation, shaking his head. He couldn’t just tell Namjoon about everything. All of their lives would be in danger, Jimin already put them through enough while being here. And Jimin was too scared, to frightened. He had seen too much, felt too much of the pain before. “Not here,” He whispered, reaching out for Namjoon’s hand, “Please...this...it’s closing in on me.”

Furrowing his brows, Namjoon nodded and pulled Jimin up from his chair, noticing how shaky he still was. Jimin’s fingers were digging into his arm deeply as he lead him into his office and passed the other officers without saying a word. A look was enough to make them shut up. Namjoon pushed the door to his office open, his hand on Jimin’s shoulder to keep him grounded. Yoongi and Jungkook turned their heads around, their gazes meeting Jimin’s scared one and they understood wordlessly. Taking a few files with them, Yoongi pushed Jungkook out of the office, who was taking a bit too long while trying to check out Jimin in a subtle way. As soon as the room was empty, Jimin felt more relaxed. Their office smelling like a mixture of coffee and a soft musk from their perfumes. He eased his shoulders, following Namjoon who provided his chair for him.

“D-do you have some water for me?” Jimin could feel how dry his throat felt as he sat down, feeling a bit out of place in Namjoon’s office chair - and feeling very small as his legs were just dangling not even touching the ground. “I won’t run off. I will tell you...as much as I can,” Jimin promised him as he let his hand wander over the wooden desk, “I feel better here. Oh and, please tell Jin that he can go home now. That I’m alright.”

“Sure. I’ll be back in a minute.” Namjoon hurried to get a bottle of water for Jimin - and then ran around the corner to catch up with Jungkook and Yoongi. “Please, do me a favor - I’ll explain everything later to you! Find the guy in the hallway, his name is Jin. Ask him in detail what happened. Then send him home and assure him that Jimin is safe with me. No one will get to him while I’m there. Tell him that he is not supposed to tell others that Jimin is here - or even better he should tell people who ask that Jimin has a cold, nothing else. I’ll get back in touch with him to tell him when or if Jimin can start working again as soon as I figured out what Jimin is involved with. I’ll be in our office. I owe you guys!”

Meanwhile Jimin let his gaze wander around Namjoon’s office, way too curious for his own good and it was better than thinking about what had happened. But what he found was worse.

His heartbeat stopped for a moment, only to start beating at a fast pace again. Eyes wide as Jimin got up from the chair seeing the massive pin board right behind the three desks that had people, victims and all kinds of drug dealers on them. Some of them Jimin had seen before, some he didn’t know and in the middle of it all...there was a blank paper with a big question mark on it, all strings attached to that one place. Jimin closed his eyes for a second, before opening them again, hoping he was just imagining things.

This couldn’t be.

It couldn’t be possible.

Jimin’s eyes began flickering over the notes, the strings, following to where they lead him, reading another note there and following a second string. His heart skipping with a painful ache each time when he recognized someone, remembering, recalling it in his memory. He had known that Namjoon was working on a case about drugs and the recent happenings in the city, but he hadn’t known they were this deep. They were right on Taehyung’s tail. But they had no clue it was him. Taehyung was a master of disguise, a great actor and had enough money to keep his business running without leaving any traces about him. The only ones they could find were small drug dealers, but none of them really knew who they were working for. No one knew the ‘big fish’. But Jimin did. And they had no idea Jimin himself could be the key to the whole case.

He gasped, gulping heavily against the lump in his throat as he looked over his shoulder, seeing Namjoon talk to Yoongi with a bottle of water in his hand. Jimin turned back around, his hand shaking as he reached for one of the pins, taking it out of the board carefully. It had been stuck to the wrong place. It was leaving them in a dead end. Jimin could taste the dried blood on his lip as he licked over it nervously. There was a blue string attached to it and Jimin placed it somewhere else without thinking about it much further.

He rushed back to Namjoon’s seat, his eyes scanning over the papers strewn all over his desk, when a particular name was brought to his attention. His bottom lip was trembling, and he gazed through the glass door once more, his hand reaching out for the pencil simultaneously. He drew a shaky line under the name, something that wasn’t too obvious in the mix of Namjoon’s notes, but if he went over them… oh, Jimin hoped he was going over them again.

Like little breadcrumbs Jimin was leaving clues.

Pulling his hands back, Jimin pushed them under his thighs, a smile on his face that still looked a little off when Namjoon came back. “T-thank you,” Jimin reached for the cup of water, while Namjoon was reaching for the files, closing them and pushing them aside as if he just decided to clean up for him. Seeing Jimin sitting practically in between all of his case files while they were out in the open had Namjoon’s heart stopping in his chest. He had been so fixated on making sure Jimin was fine and gotten so used to being surrounded by the case he worked on that he hadn’t realized that he would send Jimin into a full on presentation. He shook his head, quickly locking the files away and then turning the board around. Jimin had other problems than messing with their stuff or telling anyone what he saw. He shouldn’t be so paranoid.

Even though it could basically fuck them over for good if it came out that a civilian could have tampered with police files.

“It was him,” Jimin began to talk out of nowhere, “Him and two other guys...some stupid friends he has. T-,” He stopped, realizing he had almost said his name out loud, “He takes drugs sometimes and I think he took some tonight. They saw us together, thinking that you ‘poisoned’ my mind or something. He has a wicked mind and he always turns it around, making it seem like I’m the bad person who left him and abused his trust.” Jimin sighed. He had enough time to think about this from the day he let Namjoon in until now. He couldn’t say his name, nor expose all of it. Taehyung was too good; he’d find it out all in minutes and then the work had been for nothing. They needed to find him themselves, but now that Jimin had seen the board, the files - he could lead them in the right direction without revealing his involvement in all of this. And he needed to do it without endangering all of them.

Namjoon knew immediately that ‘he’ could only be Jimin’s ex and the way the younger described it made it sound like a typically abusive relationship; a manipulative person who used his partners gentle heart against them, using sharp words and guilt to hold power over them and if it didn’t work - or if they were intoxicated - it ended in hurt and pain. He hated that someone that had been lucky enough to get Jimin’s heart had, instead of valuing this precious gift, decided to harm it.

“I know it’s so hard to trust me in this, but please do. I’m not ready to tell...all...of it, yet.” Jimin wiped away a few tears that had fallen. Their gazes met and Jimin could see the desperation on Namjoon’s end, the longing, the helplessness. “Is...Is there a way for you to protect me...w-without him knowing? Without making too much of a fuzz?” Jimin asked warily, getting up from the chair and walked over to Namjoon. He reached out for him, cupping his cheek softly, making the usually taller man, look up at him as he sat on Yoongi’s chair. It was a way to meet him halfway. If Namjoon could finally do something, protect the younger then maybe he’d trust in him enough to wait for him to tell him about his ex. “You said you can? I only trust you.” His thumb was stroking softly over his cheek, stepping even closer, “I will tell your colleagues what happened. File a report against unknown. You said we can do this at my pace and that you will help me right? I will let you protect me, b-but I can’t...I can’t tell you more, yet.” Jimin’s expression turned softer, aching to just kiss Namjoon right here and now to feel something else but pain.

“I’m sorry, Jimin. I am so sorry you have to go through all of this. I want you to know that it is not your fault and that your ex is the problem here. If he tries to make you feel like you are the reason or as if you deserve his treatment I want to tell you: You absolutely don’t. What he’s doing to you has absolutely nothing to do with love and everything to do with a power-hungry, cold-hearted monster that is trying to suppress you because he knows that if you could only see your own worth you wouldn’t even look at someone vile and pathetic as him.” Namjoon’s hands were balled into fists his voice sharp like a knife. He was practically burning with rage but as soon as he realized that someone raging right in front of him was the last thing Jimin needed right now he tried to calm down taking deep, measured breath before continuing, softer now, “I’m sorry. And to answer your question: Yes, there is a possibility to keep you safe without you saying anything further. Though it’s an unofficial and risky one: You could stay at my place. Just until you trust me enough to tell me that guy’s name so that we can arrest him - or he gets arrested by accident in something like a car control. Though this can only work if we set up some simple rules: You would have to stop working for Jin for a while and stay in as I can’t accompany you everywhere while I’m at work. He mustn’t have a way to reach you. You also have to tell me if he calls you or threatens you or he gets close to you in any other way. And I will have to tell my partners something so that they know what to do if something happens while I’m on duty. It doesn’t have to be the full story. Just so that they’ll have a basic idea of what the danger is and how to avoid it.” Jimin didn’t mind the tears that were rolling down his cheeks and when Namjoon got up from his chair, ready to make this happen, he leaned in, kissing Namjoon right on his lips (though it hurt his own - but he didn’t care). When he pulled back Jimin, embraced him, leaning his head on his chest like he wanted to do so many times before and closed his eyes, letting Namjoon’s presence alone calm him. “You can tell them anything you need to. You trust them, so I will, too.” Jimin leaned back so he could look up at Namjoon, “Thank you, really, I don’t know what I wou-”

Jimin’s eyes suddenly stared right back into the dark orbs of someone peeking over the frosted glass part of the door, the sound of them quickly hiding made even Namjoon turn around. Jungkook was burying his face behind the palm of his hands, peeking through his fingers when Namjoon rushed to open the door. “I...I am sorry?” Jungkook tried an apologetic smile, earning himself a smack on the back of his head from Yoongi. “I told you it’s him,” Jungkook hissed over to his boyfriend, following their boss who was waving them back inside, “They kissed! I told you it’s that boy...a kiss like…” He pursed his lips into a pout, pointing at his lips, immersed into proving a point to Yoongi instead of focusing on Namjoon, “A real kiss.”

“Fucking idiot!” Namjoon was rarely angry at Jungkook but right now he was furious. It had taken another incident in which he had gotten hurt for Jimin to even consider opening up to him and now that he had finally, finally partly confiding in him Jungkook turned up spying on them. How should Jimin trust them or think that they would take his problems seriously if Jungkook behaved like that after Namjoon specifically asked them to leave him alone with Jimin? If Jimin would close himself off again now just because Jungkook didn’t know when to stop playing then he would give him an earful - and then some.

Yoongi pushed the young detective onto his chair, keeping his hand firmly on his shoulder to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid anymore, while he kept his attention on Namjoon.

“How can we help, Joon?” Yoongi rarely smiled, but now he kept his expression soft, smiling lightly to help make Jimin feel at ease that was eyeing them warily. The young waiter was drinking his water nervously, trying to figure Namjoon’s partners out as much as he could. He heard stories about them, loving ones, and how much Namjoon respected them. And of course, he had heard about Jungkook’s recklessness, so he didn’t really mind right now.

He had worse to think about.

“You can help me get Jimin to my place safely with no one else seeing. And don’t tell anyone. Or make jokes about how he’s hiding from someone.” He gave Jungkook a stern look. Apart from that there was nothing either of them could do. As long as they didn’t have a name or a description they couldn’t look for Jimin’s ex and so it would be back to the ‘usual’ for Jimin: Being scared while going out, having to fear for his health, his body, possibly his life, depending on how intoxicated that other person was. He had no idea if Jimin’s ex was a twenty-something like Jimin and Jimin could maybe handle him if Namjoon gave him combat training - or if his ex was some member of a biker gang carrying brass knuckles or a gun and any kind of self-defense training would be futile and would only make the other more angry. He was horribly lost in this, trying to help while knowing that nothing he could do would help Jimin as long as the other didn’t tell him the whole story.

Yoongi furrowed his brows looking from Jimin to Namjoon as he listened to his superior giving them a quick insight on the young waiters situation. Without saying much further, he turned around to grab his bag fishing out his car keys, throwing them over to Namjoon. “Sounds like he’s onto you, so we better safe than sorry. Take my car. I’ll take yours. We’ll do a quick check for bugging device.” He cocked up an eyebrow when Namjoon wanted to say something, “Non-trackable phones? The things he’s done until now? Doesn’t look your normal ex-stalker. He knows some shit.” Jimin stiffened up immediately when Yoongi was talking so nonchalantly about it as if he saw right through him.

Namjoon dropped his voice so that only Yoongi could hear him. “He could be anyone for all I know. The way Jimin acted when he got to know I’m a cop had me thinking that his ex might be one. He practically freaked. That’s why it’s so important you keep your boyfriend in check. He’s perfect with police work but as this is something ‘private’ I’m not sure he understands how important it is to both Jimin and myself that absolutely nothing gets out.” He waited until Yoongi nodded before turning to go. Thanks for lending me the car. You’ll get it back as soon as I can.”

Jimin just kept his head down as he followed Namjoon to his locker to store away his gun and everything else he wasn’t allowed to take home, clocking out only minutes later. The younger held onto his hand tightly, stumbling after Namjoon who was almost rushing down to the car park making it harder for the smaller one to keep up.

“Joonie, you’re too fast. No one’s behind us right now…you’re…,” He pulled at his hand and made him turn around, “I’m coming with you, okay? I will listen to whatever you say. I won’t go out when you’re not there and do whatever rule you come up with but please…my legs are way shorter than yours. I can’t keep up.”

Namjoon slowed down, trying to get the tension out of his shoulders. “I’ll try. Though I’d feel more comfortable if we were already in the car. Or at home.” He swallowed the rest of his thoughts down. That Jimin wouldn't have to stay at home if he just told him. That Namjoon felt shitty not knowing who he was up against. That he still had to work meaning Jimin would be alone for hours. But he figured it would be better to talk at home. Jimin gave him an apologetic look, soothing over his arm before they walked ahead only separating to sit down in the car again. The ride home was quiet and in the distance Jimin could see the sun rising at the horizon, making him awfully realize that he’d been almost awake for twenty four hours now. He yawned, leaning his forehead against the window, trying to foresee where they were going. It had been clear to Jimin before, that Namjoon would live in the better part of town. He had a good job and therefore a steady income with which he could buy a way bigger apartment than Jimin could ever dream of. Still he was surprised that Namjoon’s apartment was rather simply decorated, a bit messy here and there giving away how much he was working and forgetting about daily work at home. “Don’t,” Jimin reached for Namjoon as he tried to tidy up while simultaneously showing him where everything was, “I like it. I don’t care about anything else.”

“But I do care if my visitors accidentally step on cutlery and get a sepsis and die,” Namjoon stated dryly, holding up a spoon that he had just picked up together with a bowl from where he had eaten cereal in front of the TV last night after he had been too tired to make himself anything more dinner-like. He continued to quickly pick a few things off the ground, throwing a few clothes onto a chair with flaming cheeks and then covering the rest of the mess with a blanket. “So, there you go.” He could keep cleaning after he had gotten Jimin a place to sleep. “Do you want the couch, or should I get the inflatable mattress out?”

“I’m fine with the couch. Don’t worry about me, really.” Jimin sat down, careful not to hurt himself and reached for one of the blankets. “I’ll make myself comfortable and we can talk tomorrow? You look tired Joon,” He took Namjoon’s hand and leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek. “Do you mind me taking a shower? I still feel a bit dirty. It’s there, right?” Jimin pointed at a door and walked over to reveal the bathroom to himself, happy that he remembered it right, “I’ll help myself to everything else.”

“Of course not. Take your time.” He told Jimin where he would find the towels and then started to prepare the couch. He could have offered his bed to Jimin and sleep on the couch but last time he had done that he had woken stiff and hurting because he had to fold into himself so much, his feet reaching far out on the couch. Jimin would have it easier with his smaller size. And with the extra padding and blankets he was preparing right now the younger would still feel comfortable.

Or as comfortable as one could feel with his abrasions and bruises.

Jimin was rubbing his wet hair with a towel as he walked out of the bathroom, listening to the sounds of his new surroundings. It was silent. No highway close by, no annoying neighbors. He sighed, looking at his clothes from last night, the dirty and cut open sweatshirt and weighed out if he should just sleep in his boxers or not when he noticed the wardrobe in the corner of Namjoon’s living room. It was possibly too big for his bedroom, or maybe Namjoon had fitted a small office in there, so it didn’t fit anymore. He opened up the large doors, tipping his chin to find something he could wear. With a smile, Jimin reached for a thick sweatshirt, one that fit him like a dress and hung off his shoulder giving him the perfect sweater paws. He didn’t bother looking for some pants, already sure that they wouldn’t fit him.

Jimin finally let out a deep breath when he was laying down, the blanket tightly wrapped around himself. He blinked up at the ceiling in the dark (Namjoon had pulled down the shutters), wondering if Namjoon was just as awake as he was. Jimin turned again, trying to find a different position but he only made himself almost fall off the couch. Maybe he should have taken the air mattress? Jimin laughed to himself quietly. As if the air mattress was the reason for him not being able to sleep. The adrenaline was seeping out of his body, the pain making him awfully aware of what had happened and where he was now. His eyes flickered over to the closed door of Namjoon’s bedroom and Jimin bit his lip. “Oh, fuck it,” He cursed to himself in a whispery tone and got up. The cold floor against his bare feet made him shiver and Jimin hesitantly reached for the door handle, while he knocked quietly, letting himself in at the same moment. “Joon,” Jimin whispered, playing with the hem of the Namjoon’s sweater that he wore, “C-can I…can I sleep with you?”

Namjoon’s throat got dry immediately, body reacting to the sweet words even though he knew that Jimin didn’t mean what he was saying. Not in the way Namjoon wanted him too at least.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll get you another cushion and a second blanket.” He answered, voice a little sleepy and scratchy, hoping that there would be another blanket left or else he would have to steal one from the couch. “Can’t you sleep?” He wondered if it was the couch that kept Jimin from sleeping despite Namjoon making sure it was soft - or if Jimin was haunted by his memories. “Do you want me to turn on a light during the night? As some kind of night light?”

“No, just…stay there,” Jimin simply got onto the bed next to Namjoon, pushing him back by his shoulders to lay down again. “I don’t need another blanket. I just want to sleep and forget, please.” His hand stayed on Namjoon’s chest, a little sad that the other wore a shirt to sleep and so he couldn’t touch his honey-dipped skin. Taking Namjoon’s arm he placed it around himself and shifted closer to lay down right next to him. “Is this okay?”

“Uhm, yeah, sure.” It’s a bit of a stretch because honestly Namjoon is a little bit overwhelmed, especially because he doesn’t know what to do with his hands as he doesn’t know what might set Jimin off. The younger must feel even more vulnerable than Namjoon does and with the thought about his ex always present in the ache of his wounds and the back of his mind Namjoon is sure that if he touches Jimin the wrong way he might scare him further instead of reassuring him as he would like to do. Jimin could literally feel how stiff the other was under his touch, but the exhaustion was pulling him under so quickly and still he wanted to reassure Namjoon. “I'd like it if you hold me close, if that is something you want, too.” Jimin mumbled sleepily, blinking up at Namjoon, “I trust you.” With that, he leaned his head back onto his chest, closing his eyes as he nuzzled into Namjoon’s side. “I will tell you if I don’t like something, I promise.” A soft kiss was placed on his neck and then Jimin sighed deeply, finally letting the tiredness take him under. Carefully Namjoon put his arms around Jimin, a little awkward at first but when the younger didn’t bolt on him he tightened his hold a little until he was properly hugging him. Jimin’s breath was deep and slow, he must have fallen asleep in the blink of an eye, exhaustion dragging him down into a hopefully nice and relaxing sleep.

Namjoon didn’t have that luxury.

With Jimin in his arms and what had happened still lingering in his mind he had a hard time closing his eyes or feeling tired. He was on edge, tense, feeling unprepared and like he was about to be attacked at any minute. It was nonsense but not knowing the person’s name that he was up to made his worries and fears turn him into a dark larger-than-life-monster.

A/N: Oh oh oh, Taehyung is on Jimin’s feet ;) Do you think it’s a good idea for Jimin to hide at Namjoon’s now? And to mess with his files? We will see... THANK YOU FOR READING! And the amazing messages and comments we got for the other chapters ;; It really means a lot to us. We’re working hard on new stories: Pirates, Hybrids Geishas, Camboys and Bots are coming your way soon ;)

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jnyonghoon · 5 years

Text

A Crimson Thread

CHAPTER 1

Ateez OT8 The Dark Tower AU

Genre: Fnatasy, adventure, might turn into horror (consider that this is mainly inspired by The Dark Tower book series by Stephen King, and many more of his books will blend into this story)

Characters: OT8, no pairing, no self insert (only Hongjoong, Wooyoung and Yeosang appear in this chapter)

Warnings: Wooyoung says sh*t once

Word count: 1638

Author’s note: The main villain in this story is a character created by Stephen King (not me) but he is slightly altered to fit the plot. Other works of King might subtly appear as well. This is my first ever writing project and i plan to make it long and complex so please cheer me on :))

As he walked into town, all eyes turned to him and immediately away. He could smell the fear growing in the air and enjoyed every last drop of it. Pulling his lips into a sly smirk, he made his way to the town hall. He had no intention to stay long; the fun would only begin after he was gone. And with each passing moment, the boy was getting closer.

“Are we even going in the right direction?”

It wasn’t unusual for Wooyoung to whine, especially during such a long ride as the sun was scorching over them without a single tree to provide shelter. They were out of the rocky wastelands and Hongjoong could swear he’d seen a dried up bush two hours ago, but he wasn’t sure anymore.

He looked to Yeosang as if asking the same question, but the boy just kept his eyes fixed on his gloved hands holding the rein loosely. He hadn’t said a word for the past three days. Hongjoong didn’t blame him, but it made him increasingly worried. Yeosang was their only means of navigation and they could only trust that he wasn’t completely lost in his own mind.

It’s at least another two days on horseback until they see a proper tree, let alone the forest. The horses were tired, and they desperately needed rest, he needed rest. The ache in his legs was almost unbearable, they hadn’t eaten a proper meal for days and they were running dangerously low on water. But if they stopped now, he couldn’t guarantee that they would ever move again. And he would be out of reach. Again. He adjusted his hat to shield his eyes, his hair sticking to his forehead and neck with sweat, and tossed the flask containing their last drops of water to Wooyoung.

As more and more patches of yellow grass appeared ahead of them he pushed his horse to a faster pace and the others followed, keeping it up for the next few hours. He wanted to get a considerable distance behind them before sunset. Yeosang’s horse tripped once and Hongjoong got seriously concerned that it wouldn’t stand up. What scared him more is that Yeosang didn’t seem to notice. He was getting worse again.

Wooyoung regained most of his energy as they set camp for the night. He quickly built a fire from the dry grass while the other two unsaddled the horses. Yeosang’s movements were stiff and Hongjoong couldn’t help but watch his friend carefully.

“I’m fine.” Hongjoong’s eyes were met by Yeosang’s icy blue ones. His voice was quiet but stern. Maybe even reassuring. “Just sick of the wastelands.”

“If we’re lucky, we might see some trees tomorrow night,” he smiled gently in response, “then it’s only a matter of days till we get to Pully.”

“Yeah! Provided we don’t get lost like last time. You know, when we got cornered by a bunch of boars!” Wooyoung’s voice roared out compared to their quiet discourse.

“And whose fault was that, Wooyoung?” that earned a gentle chuckle from Yeosang. Finally.

Hongjoong set his eyes on the horizon. Mountains on the left but otherwise emptiness all the way around. The town they were looking for should be just a few more days ahead.

“You think Paws will get there before us?” Wooyoung asked, as if reading his mind. Paws was the lynx he raised ever since he was fifteen. She was now somewhere in those mountains, moving towards the same destination.

“She always does.” They needed to move quick and couldn’t afford to go through the mountains, but the desert was no place for the animal. So instead of taking the shortcut with them through the wastelands, Paws moved around it. It was much longer, but she might already be waiting for them.

The night got cold, almost freezing, but the small fire kept them warm enough and they all slept. There was no need to keep watch tonight.

The first tree came into their sight when the sun was setting the next day. Wooyoung galloped his horse over, jumped off and hugged the thin trunk of the lonely acacia, not letting go until the others caught up. After two weeks in this no-man's-land, they finally saw a glimpse of hope of reaching the woods surrounding Pully.

Bushy hills slowly replaced the dry grassland and even though riding became significantly harder, they found water and that instantly lifted their morale.

Four days had passed till they left the wasteland behind. The night was much darker among the trees, with no way for the moon and stars to watch over them. Wooyoung was off hunting, he could finally use his beloved crossbow again, and they could get a proper meal at last. It came to Hongjoong to prepare the fire this time, while Yeosang left to search for fresh water.

As he collected firewood, Hongjoong couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched. Was it just paranoia? Was there something lurking in these unfriendly woods? The pathways didn’t seem to be in use by the townspeople; they must have abandoned the area a long time ago. This place could be infested with demons. Or just some particularly hungry bears. Whatever it is, he can deal with it comes to that.

What bothered him more is that he knew that the wizard would be gone by the time they arrived to Pully. It always ends up like that. Yeosang tracked him well enough, but not fast enough. Not that it was his fault. Even with the abilities Yeosang had, the traces of magic left behind by the wizard were far too difficult to follow. He was doing a good job.

The sound of rustling interrupted his thoughts, coming from the bushes. For a split second, he felt like he was in danger. Who the hell could sneak up on him? There was no way it was Wooyoung, he can hear him from a mile, and Yeosang left in the opposite direction.

He reached for his gun and listened.

The animal walked into sight with a rabbit held tightly in its teeth and Hongjoong eased up.

“She scared the shit out of me.” Wooyoung followed the lynx as it dropped its prey to the ground and walked over to Hongjoong. He greeted his friend with a gentle stroke between her pointy ears. “And she stole my rabbit!” the younger boy complained again.

“Of course she did,” he scoffed with a grin, finally relieved from the surprise. So Paws really managed to arrive way before them.

As Yeosang returned with bottles of spring-water they started preparing their dinner and settled down.

“We should keep watch tonight, two of us.” The other two listened as Yeosang frowned his eyebrows.

“Did you see something?” Hongjoong asked, not afraid, just curious. He knew he felt something around the woods, just didn’t know what. Or who?

“I found stones in a circle.”

“Demon?” Wooyoung asked and immediately started looking around nervously, checking every bush and every shadow.

“It could be just a witch.” Hongjoong sighed.

“Or a demon!” he started walking around and jumped as he spotted a pair of yellow eyes staring right at him. “What the hell is that?”

Hongjoong and Yeosang both turned to see the cause of Wooyoung’s panic. A huge owl was sitting on a branch right above their heads. It would have been nothing out of the ordinary, but the way it was staring down, it seemed as if it was studying them.

“Can’t you shoot it or something?” Wooyoung urged.

“Why would I shoot an owl?” Hongjoong said, remaining calm, but once he locked eyes with the bird, he considered pulling the trigger. It didn’t feel like looking in the eyes of an animal, more like...

Paws, who silently climbed the tree while they were staring upwards broke the tension. She tried to catch the owl, but it flew away. They all stayed still for a long moment, not being able to process what just happened.

“Are we scared of birds now?” Hongjoong asked as he broke down in laughter. Wooyoung soon joined in, more out of stress than relief. Yeosang’s eyes remained fixed on the night sky above them as he tried to follow the route of the owl.

Wooyoung offered to keep watch first if Hongjoong stays up with him. They quickly sent Yeosang off to sleep, then discussed their plans concerning their arrival to Pully tomorrow.

“We should make it quiet this time,” Hongjoong started, keeping his voice low enough not to disturb their sleeping companion. “only let them know who we are when it’s time.”

“Hongjoong, no offense but, uh, everyone knows you.” Wooyoung whispered, carving a piece of rock into the shape of an arrow tip. “They see the scar and connect the dots.”

Hongjoong unconsciously brought his hand to the scar covering half of his face. Wooyoung was right, rumors spread about him like wildflower around the whole nation. All stories were different and ridiculously off, but one thing they never left out was the goddamn scar.

“Then you’ll do the talking.” he said. “Or Yeosang. We need these people to think we are just travelers.”

“Okay, let’s say we can blend in. What do we do next?”

“We take our time. Ask around like we are clueless schoolboys. We need to learn as much as we can before they kick us out.”

They all knew trailing the wizard was pointless. He was way too careful. So what they needed to figure out is where he would go next. That was the plan, at least. Wooyoung hummed in response, then lied down on his side, stacking his bag under his head as a pillow.

“I thought you were keeping watch.” Hongjoong smiled gently as he watched his friend dose off.

#ateez #hongjoong #wooyoung #yeosang #ateez fanfiction #pls forgive me if my writing is bad i believe i'll get better at it in time #feedback is appreciated #also don't worry that there are lots of holes that you don't understand everything is meant to figure itself out in time #so yea please enjoy

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cowardcouch · 5 years

Text

Give Me Love

Part 3

Baekhyun loved kids. Small demons trying to get on his nerves were what he found to be cute. He wanted one for himself and he didn’t have one. Whose fault is that Baekhyun? Was what his elder brother said when the former expressed his desire for holding a family. He had brought one of his brother’s children with him for the weekend. Byun Taehyun was the reflection of Byun Baekhyun. He was literally Byun Baekhyun, which is weird because he is supposed to be the son of his brother. Baekhyun’s love for this little puppy was indescribable. Legend has it when both of them unite; upheavals are brought upon those near them. Both of them were equally mischievous and noisy. God help Sae Ri when she has to live with both of them.

Sae Ri’s mind was filled with a lot of questions when she found Baekhyun holding a sleeping child. Baekhyun gestured Sae Ri not to make any noise as he gently placed the angel on his bed and kissed his forehead. This was the first time he found Sae Ri in the living room when he closed the door of his bedroom behind him. Her expression remained unchanged when she saw Baekhyun before he stopped her. “We can have dinner together. I brought chicken.” Baekhyun raised the polythene he was holding in his hand with a gleeful expression. “I-I have already had dinner.” She said the words she could think of and before Baekhyun could say anything, she advanced towards her room.

“I guess I’ll eat alone then.”

It was midnight. Sae Ri was hungry. Being the idiot she was, she had to lie to avoid any human interaction with Baekhyun. “I should have eaten the chicken when he offered.” She whispered to herself and curled up at the corner of the bed. She changed her position several times; sometimes she stared at the ceiling, sometimes she stared at the windows and tried acting out a whole movie in her head but she was still awake. Her stomach grumbled, begging for food this time. She tip-toed out of the room, checking to see if Baekhyun was still outside. Finding everything still and quiet, she advanced towards the kitchen.

“What happened?”

“Oh My God!”

Sae Ri yelled when she saw a man’s face lightened by the torch he was holding. Upon realizing it was just Baekhyun, she calmed down. “I am sorry I scared you. I was hungry so I decided to come here.” He reasoned and smiled at her. Had he not eaten his dinner? She thought and all of sudden her stomach grumbled, embarrassing her in front of the male. “I’ll heat up the chicken.” He chuckled and took out the chicken from the refrigerator. This time, Sae Ri had no choice but to have dinner with Baekhyun.

Baekhyun could use only one word to describe the atmosphere. Awkward. Neither of the adults was saying any word. She never left her room let alone talk to Baekhyun. The only time both of them met was when they had breakfast or when they had dinner. Baekhyun was usually the one who talked. Her eyes were always focused on her food never looking up to look at the man who was sitting opposite to her. She either never replied or replied using ‘hmmm’ or nodded. But this time the tension was visibly thick.

“So a game developer, huh? Must be an interesting job. Which games have you worked on?”

“I have worked on a lot of games.” She simply answered.

“Like?” Baekhyun felt like he was pushing her. But he wanted to know her. Both of them never talked and he felt that this time, he could get closer to her.

“I have worked on Vincent, Jumpy Jack, Madrunner, han-”

“You have worked on Madrunner! That’s my favorite game. I love how I can customize the locations and cars. The details were excellent in the game. I have to say Level 78 was hard but I somehow managed it.” Baekhyun kept on blabbering about the game and Sae Ri internally giggled finding his reactions and descriptions cute.

“I brought my nephew with me. I hope you won’t mind. He is loud and noisy. If he disturbs you, do tell me.” Baekhyun smiled at her again making her think how can someone’s smile be so beautiful.

After both of them had finished eating, they left for their own rooms, both of them thinking about each other before falling asleep.

The beautiful sun rays bounced off the grey walls indicating that it was already morning. It was like a typical Disney voice. Sae Ri could hear the birds chirping and a mellifluous voice consumed her senses. Her eyes fluttered open upon hearing the melody, its musical notes dancing in her ears. It was Sunday and she wanted to ‘hibernate’ like any other normal human being. The voice coming from the hall was very captivating and she couldn’t help herself but listen to it intently. She wasn’t complaining at all. She tried to sleep again but she couldn’t deceive her body. It was awake now, fully aware that Oh Sae Ri needed to wake up now as it was 11 am.

She was greeted by a little human the moment she stepped in the living room. The kid’s resemblance to Baekhyun was uncanny. Sae Ri had no experience in dealing with children let alone with adults. She stared at the kid thinking what to do with ‘it’ when his uncle called him for breakfast. Her eyes followed the kid as he raced towards his uncle and hugged his legs. “Good Morning.” Baekhyun greeted her and his rectangle smile made an appearance. She mumbled good morning under her breath she was only audible to her ears making her think why did she even bother to wish him back when she was the only one who heard it.

“Who is this pretty lady uncle?” Taehyun shyly asked half-hiding behind Baekhyun’s frame. Sae Ri would be lying if she said she didn’t like the kid calling him pretty. “This pretty lady is my friend. Her name is Oh Sae Ri.” Baekhyun answered and carried the kid by his arms placing him on the counter. “Hello.” Taehyun hugged the woman with his short arms and snuggled more and more into her. This unfamiliar contact made her feel….weird. She never let anyone in her personal bubble and this contact did make her uncomfortable. She let the kid hug her and not knowing what to do she stood there frozen, with her hands up in the air not knowing where to place them. Does everyone in the Baekhyun’s family like hugging people or was this normal?

Sae Ri stared at the watch and then at the little kid in front of her. It has been five minutes since this kid was with her and she did not know what to do with the kid. She had tried every trick in the book which was known to her. She gave him some sweets, then she performed some magic tricks and made some scary faces but he didn’t give up following her. Taehyun was bored. “Can’t we play something?” Taehyun whined and buried his face in the pillows. “Do you wanna play some video games?” She questioned making the cutie’s face gleam with brightness.

“This is how you change the course.” Sae Ri explained the rules of the games to Taehyun who was quick to understand the game. Once he had memorized the details in his head, both of them were ready to play. “No!” Sae Ri shouted when Taehyun’s car overtook him making the latter jump ecstatically. The secret was that Sae Ri was deliberately driving slow so that Taehyun could taste victory. She liked seeing him smile. Taehyun smartly drifted his car through the fields to take a shortcut and reached the finish line first. “I win!” He ran in circles and then embraced Sae Ri. A smile took shape on her face and she hugged him back, embracing happiness, warmth, and love. Unknown to them, Baekhyun watched them through the gap of the door, smiling seeing both of them bonding. This was the first time he had seen Sae Ri smile and being close to someone and he had to admit, her smile was beautiful.

“I hope Taehyun isn’t bothering you.” Baekhyun voiced his concerns making Sae Ri look up from her food. “He isn’t.” This Sae Ri was the same Sae Ri he saw every day. The Sae Ri he had seen in her room seemed like the Sae Ri from a parallel universe. “Do you have any boyfriend?” Baekhyun’s random question startled her. Sae Ri had no love life. She was never interested in men and she never will be. Love, lust, commitment was beyond her. The love between a man and a woman was something she didn’t believe in. She found it funny; people ready to sacrifice everything for others was not love, it was madness and obsession. “I’m sorry. I must have scared you with the question.” Baekhyun sheepishly chuckled. “I have never had a boyfriend before.” Her answer triggered two emotions in Baekhyun. He was shocked to know that she never had a boyfriend before and her honesty added to his shock. Secondly, he was relieved to know that.

“That’s strange. How can a pretty girl like you have no boyfriend? Men must be blind these days.” Baekhyun’s words made her blush but she was quick to hide her reddened cheeks. “May I ask ….why?” Baekhyun was curious and before he knew, he blurted out the question. Great, now you have scared her Baekhyun. Well done, Baekhyun cursed himself internally. How hard it is to keep your mouth shut? I always have to run his mouth. Now, it’s awkward. Jesus, take the wheel. While Baekhyun was battling with himself in his head, Sae Ri was over-thinking. Why is he so interested in me? Does he like me? Is it a simple conversation? What Sae Ri had learned was that she could never foretell people’s intentions and motives unless she’s a clairvoyant. She wanted to escape from having a conversation with him but at the same time, she didn’t want to act impudently. He was her landlord after all. Was this the reason? Why did she want to talk to him? Usually, she would reply I don’t know but with Baekhyun, she felt comfortable.

“I like to be independent.”

Baekhyun was speechless. This was the longest she had talked to him. He was happy that she did say what she felt. He had never met anyone like Sae Ri before. She was what he wasn’t. “You can be independent in a relationship. Who said there are constraints in a relationship? You can still be Oh Sae Ri while being someone’s girlfriend.” Sae Ri knew that this conversation wouldn’t end anytime soon. “That’s not the only reason. I-I just don’t believe in love between a man and a woman. I don’t think it exists.” Her answers were intriguing to Baekhyun. Oh Sae Ri was another dimension; she was the unexplored destination to Baekhyun. “Just because you don’t believe in something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.” Sae Ri clutched the hem of her dress, unpleasant memories being played in her head. She had no idea why was Baekhyun even interested in her. She tried to calm down her rapid breathing and tried to stop the painful sensations of her past.

“I don’t know what happened to you that made you suppress your emotions and your true nature but I believe you are a good person. I can see in your eyes that you need someone to lean on and I am not talking about a man, I am talking about a friend. I know that I can get on people’s nerves sometimes but I can be a good friend. I believe that you are just as beautiful inside as you are outside.”

“Just because you believe I am a good person doesn’t mean that I am.”

Sae Ri’s voice was trembling and her eyes were pooling with tears. Baekhyun could not form any words in his mouth. He had hurt her and something ached inside him. Sae Ri raced towards her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Her nightmares had decided to visit her again tonight and she let them torment her soul. This was her punishment that she was cursed with since she was nine.

The moment people come to know her personal stuff, which is very rare, she fades away from their life. She was just an unread book covered with several layers of dust, waiting for someone to explore her story and recently, the book had finally found its reader.

#baekhyun fanfic #baekhyunxoc #baekhyun fluff #exo

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