#i would become physically ill the moment she opens her mouth

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

Trying to have a reasonable discussion with a r****m is a lost cause, specially on social media. They have already made up their minds about the world and how it affects them. They are immersed too deeply in that ideology due to years and years of trauma, disappointment and loss. It's gotten to the point that it has manifested in STRONG and DEEP hatred, anger and bitterness. This isn't easy to get rid of. The vast majority of them have actually been ingrained stuff like this since childhood because most came from either extremely rigid or chaotic households with all types of fucked up and toxic ideas being taught to them. This resulted in repressing or desperation, which led to them getting exploited and abused by others outside of their family. To be honest, they need to be re-born in order for them to truly abandon an ideology as twisted as r*****l f******m.

[ikilledjoffery]

the arryn sisters: the day aemma died

3.6k words

Rogue, a War Horse, a man with no honor, an untamed beast, an asshole. Whispers in the court and castle, accompanied by loud voices of the common folk never let you forget what they thought of your arranged marriage partner. Yet somehow, amongst all of the name calling he had only seemed to retain one of these qualities toward you. Asshole. But even that was only momentary, most times he was at least slightly pleasant to be around. At least that’s what was easiest to tell yourself as you became closer. The days to your marriage crawled to become present making it even more evident that it was in your best interest to get along with him. This was not the ideal arrangement for you, but for your family it was. Daemon wanted a happier marriage, you weren't married, and your families were already united. So what could go wrong in creating another unity?

“Are you going to watch?” Daemon stood in front of you pulling you away from your train of thought as he spoke much louder than any thought you had. The window you had been looking out of seened to all of a sudden be of no interest to you. 

“It’s my duty to attend, you will be out there, so I suppose shall.” Making eye contact with Daemon  he was staring downward at you, bending his body slightly closer as he did so. In your daydreaming he had not previously been so close. Daemon clenched his jaw ever so slightly at the comment. 

“I assure you that you will wish to attend every tournament I am in from this point forward after you see what a formidable opponent I am.” He brought himself up to the pedestal he had expected you to as he leaned all the way forward, unbeknownst to you his helmet was sat on the table across from where you sat. 

“Ah, well, I wouldn’t put that past you. But, I have yet to see you in any sort of physical combat so time will tell.” You grinned at him, neither side of the coin looked shiny to you. On one end continuing banter with Daemon could have some pretty rough consequences. On the other hand giving into his ego was like fanning a fire that was already burning down a city. 

“That it will.” He always had to have the last word regardless of the conversation. But yet, even after he spoke, he kept himself mere inches from you. If he took one step further his foot would be stuck in the stretcher of the chair. 

Rather than speaking you just leaned further forward than he, kissing him on the cheek, placing a hand on the opposing one. That way he was ever so slightly trapped in the moment. Pulling back you released your hand from him and pulled your head back slowly, letting your lips no longer touch his warm skin. The side of your heads bumped one another as you moved. There was something about Daemon that you couldn’t quite catch, and this was most evident in moments like these. Where instead of pure passion and lust, care and affection are shown. 

Without a word Daemon pulled himself entirely back picking the remaining piece of his armor off the table walking out. The force of his body made the door violently swing open though he didn’t lay a single hand on the piece of furniture. A breath of relief? Sadness? Worry? Erupted from your body as a bang traveled through the room. One day that would need sorted, but that was not that day. That day your sister was said to go into labor, the day you had most worried and dreaded. She had already lost so many children, and the one she managed to bore came into the world almost taking her life as she did so. Aemma was a dutiful wife, and with that said she took her role to heart. Something about that day just felt like you were being overcome with illness. The sickness that pooled in your stomach could not ale you enough to miss the festivities. 

“Good luck.” You mouthed and smiled at your soon-to-be husband as he sat on top of his horse, a helmet made to look like that of a dragon sat on top of his head. Pondering what he would’ve said had he been any closer to where you sat he picked his first opponent. You had already sat through a multitude of jesting, which was just grown men poking and beating each other with sticks on horseback. But, now it was time for you to be a dutiful wife and wish nothing but wellness and success for Daemon. As of that day fighting was like family to him. Sat in front of you was the princess and the king’s hand’s daughter who had been bantering, laughing, and smiling together through the entirety of it all. 

“A jousting tournament in honor of a baby, what an odd gift to one who is not even born yet.” You were starting to become ill and tired of watching Daemon beat the hell out of his opponents, knowing full well that his chances of winning were higher than any. Not because of any talent he had, but simply because he was the prince, who was going to knock The Prince of Dragonstone off his horse. 

“I concur.” Rhyneara looked behind her shoulder to look at you, a smile plastered on her face as she remembered the point of this game. 

“Yes, but look at your one true love, he’s doing quite a phenomenal job.” Alicent tuned into the conversation, something about her read differently. She was a hopeless romantic, one of which was also a people pleaser, a naive one at that. All of which could be easily recognized by the fair smile on her face and the words that she spoke. 

“He is quite talented with that pole.” You pointed at Daemon who was smacking someone as hard as he could off of their horse once more. The girls broke out into quiet snickering not wanting to upset either of their fathers. 

“My uncle can be just as good as his fighting skills, he is not always what you hear of.” Rhyneara nodded her head and spoke before turning back around. The two of you had grown quite close through years past. Oftentimes being with one another in times not meant to be used for any visiting. She generally had an honest outlook of the people around her, so to hear her finally say something about your arrangement was refreshing. 

A quick and sudden sickness, the same one as earlier reappeared in your stomach. Closing your eyes gently you took in a deep breath, trying to avoid your eyebrows knitting up. Opening your eyes, you looked around to see if anyone had taken notice of your reaction. Rather, the Maester was speaking with the King, and the men left together.

“Aemma.” You whispered under your breath knowing good and well that was what the men were running away to go see. Tightening your grip around the arm of the chair you sat at you watched as Daemon was thrown from his horse. Pretending that the intense fighting was causing you some distress was much easier than facing what it really was.  

“Come on Daemon.” Whispering again, you made sure it was loud enough for the girls to hear, especially your niece who had been slightly turned looking behind herself at you. 

Like the other men had done, once the original use of the lances was past they began fighting in hand to hand combat. Continuing to gain the upper hand from one another the crowd was more excited than they had been all day. As Daemon crashed into the ground once more as Viserys’s family began to talk amongst themselves as Otto returned bringing some kind of news. 

“What’s happened?” Snapping your head towards Otto before he could sneak away he paused. One foot planted on the exit, the other stilling itself right behind your chair. 

“You have a nephew.” Otto nodded and simply took off away from you. The two of you had always had a complicated relationship. This was due to the fact that Viserys would listen to almost every single word that man spoke as if it were gospel. Especially in tough circumstances, and Otto sometimes seemed to have what was best for everyone in mind, but other times he was only interested in playing a game. One that would guarantee him or his family something. 

“What joy.” You talked to yourself as Cristin was named the victor between him and Daemon. This could not be a good omen or a good rest of the day for you. As you were assigned to be seen and be close with him. From what you had seen in the past and heard from others an angry Daemon was not something anyone wanted to deal with. 

Heading back to your chambers you seemed to be all alone, like everyone had chosen to stay away from you. Without a clue why you continued on your way. Truly the castle felt just as alive, only much more haunted. As you reached your door you heard the sound of something crashing into the floor from inside. Opening the door you came to a complete stop. Daemon didn’t expect you to open the door, he launched his helmet from where he sat to the door that you hadn’t opened. The sound of metal clashing so harshly and then being pulled with just as much force to the ground was enough to make you shudder. 

“I thought you exhibited great strength today.” You spoke to him quietly taking shaky steps forward away from the door that he was using as a target. He had instilled some type of fear in you, you felt like you were gliding with each step forward. 

“Do not patronize me.” He spoke through his teeth as he took off his chest piece and dropped it directly in front of himself rather than setting it down. 

“My apologies, I was only trying to speak the truth.” Walking towards him you picked up his sword with slight strain in order to move it out of your path. He had all but torn up your shared living space with scattered pieces of himself. 

“If you wish to be comforted I am not known to have skill in that area.” Daemon wouldn’t deny you whatever you sought out, but he wasn’t going to lie to you. Anger was laced in his words, but at the same time he felt for you. 

“Comforted?” You questioned looking up at him as he angrily kicked his chest piece across the room in the opposite direction of the bed. Not daring to make a single noise you held in the way of a statue looking at him. 

“Do you not feel for her? I believed the two of you were quite close.” Daemon sounded slightly annoyed that you had questioned what he had said since it took a bit of him to say such words in his own anger that couldn’t be solved. 

“Daemon I don’t understand, but, that’s alright, you must be angry. Is there anything I can do to aid you?” Speaking quickly you wanted off this topic, the further you made him explain something that was clearly so obvious for him would only make the situation worse. 

His hands suddenly came from his sides to grab your forearms. Daemon’s grip made you able to feel every single one of his fingers and the heat from his hands through your thick long sleeved dress. He pulled you forward, almost lifting you from the ground as he did all of that to look into your eyes. Your lungs began to burn since you hadn’t taken a breath of air since he began to corner and capture you. Arms locked, not touching his, yet his nose was less than inches from yours. 

“You don’t know. No one told you.” You had never heard him speak so quietly before, you had also never seen him look away from you. Usually you were treated like a challenge when it came to him, whoever broke eye contact first or released the other was the loser. 

Taking in a sharp breath to stay conscious you shook your head slowly as he pulled you even closer. Your chests pressed against one another, your head forced against his shoulder by his hand in your hair. He had readjusted his other arm to lock you in place against him. This was truly the closest physically you had ever been to one another. He was moving quickly and mechanically as he continued to hold you there. 

“They were wrong for that.” Daemon wasn’t trying to be gentle but he also was not trying to be mean. He swayed the two of you side to side as he spoke, “That is why I came back here, tragedy has struck within our family.” 

“Our family?” Something about the way he emphasized “our” was heavily off putting, it felt like he was holding a sword to your belly and all of your muscles tensed. But the other part of you wanted to hold onto him so that maybe the impact of whatever he had to say would hurt less. Placing your hands on his back across his shoulders  you closed your eyes tightly waiting for him to pull back, to shove you down, to move out of the way immediately. But he didn’t, even when you finally added full pressure he stood the same way he had been. 

“Aemma died earlier today.” At that he did jolt forward, not because he wanted to, but because unexpectedly the front of your body went limp against him yet the hands on his back were pushing him forward in a way he didn’t resist. 

“How?” It came as a breath that simply sounded like the word your brain formed as you felt more faint than you ever had before. Something about this felt wrong, very very wrong. 

“Childbirth.” Daemon even sounded wrong, unsure possibly, or did not want to tell you what had actually happened. Though not a lot of people liked Daemon, everyone enjoyed drama, and this was certainly drama. 

“No. How did she die?” Daemon sighed, now moving the hand that was in your hair down from where it was to the middle of your back as slowly as he could. This prompted you to move your hands down to lay directly under his shoulders. 

“They say that they tried a new medical practice meant to save the fetus and not the mother.” The two of you held completely still, dead silence spilled over the room at the same moment. Because for a moment everything had hit, there was a massive shift in energy for you. Your whole world just turned so harshly it felt like you were standing on the ceiling looking down onto the floor. The only thing keeping you grounded was the feeling of Daemon taking in air normally, his chest would fill making the closeness of your bodies even closer. 

“You must excuse me, I have matters to attend to.” You were the loser as you dropped your hands from him and took a step back, one that he almost fully allowed. 

“Do you not wish to be comforted?” Daemon was back to showing anger, he was already having a bad day, and now you had resisted against his kind affections. 

“You have already done so, thank you Daemon.” His arms were still sitting lightly at your back even as you stood back from him. He was studying you, unsure what you meant by “matters.” 

“Fine then. Be on your way.” Slamming his arms down to his own sides he turned away from you in continuing to take his armor off and express his frustrations of the day accordingly. 

“I will return shortly.” Nodding in his general direction you turned and sped out of the room the way he had earlier. Your sheer force knocked the door open without having to raise a hand to it. Every worker in the castle moved out of your way and stood to the side of the walkways as you paid no one any mind. Though you were generally pleasant to everyone, the use of pleasantries were not in order right then. Each of them knew exactly why as you opened the door to the small council meeting. 

“How could you? How could  you not tell me?” Storming in your ignored the voices of many before standing directly next to your sister's killer, at least the one who ordered her death for an heir. 

“Y/n I-” Viserys could see he was not going to get a word in edgewise as your labored breathing was not tearful, but rather vengeful. 

“No. I don’t want to hear an answer from you because I am sure that anything you say will have come from the mouth of another. I’m sure you didn’t tell me because you hadn’t consulted with any of these fools yet. You couldn’t face me without a planned response.” Nodding your head you didn’t even look up at Otto or the Maesters voice letting you know that this was a private meeting and that the king had done what was best. 

“I lost my wife and my son today-” Viserys snapped his neck to face you not realizing what he had added to the conversation.

“The babe didn’t even live? You took my sister's life so that a little boy could breathe one breath of air? You killed her for nothing?” Leaning in you were face to face with the man as he took a deep breath in, “Answer me!” Slamming your fist into the table in front of all the men everyone looked around at one another not sure what to do. Your eyes did not break from the man everyone called The King. 

“I was not aware that-” Yet again he was cut off this time by his hand, “Princess, your husband to-be needs you, he lost a lot today, there’s nothing better than a woman for destressing purposes.” 

“Otto what would you know of that? You have but two children and a dead wife. So unless you went whoring in town I don’t believe that you can tell me what Daemon needs from me.” Aemma’s death was giving you a pass to become overly honest with them and you would not waste that chance. Instead of dignifying your words with a response he rose and spoke to a guard. 

“I’ll leave you be. But before I do know this. What you have done will not go unnoticed or unpunished. I am the dragon in the clouds, the snake in the grass, the lion in the weeds, and the thorn in the rose. You cannot get rid of me without a war being started, you’ve already killed one of us, two of us would be much too suspicious. Nothing you say or do will fix this and I will not stand down from my words. I suggest you pray for luck of some sort.” Viserys looked around at the table as everyone stared dead eyed at you, shocked at your words. 

“Your brother is still married to Rhea Royce, if the marriage doesn’t get annulled you can simply send that one back to her home.” One of the men at the table spoke up and Viserys just shook his head leaning his head into the palm of his hand. 

“Ah yes, Rhea, well gentlemen it seems I have business in the Vale to attend to.” Something about your statement caused a startling amount of stand still in the chairs. Not a single one of those men had a thought as to what you had just said. Your tone was obvious with malice, but even more so the way you picked your hand off the table and wiped both of them on your dress, smoothing the fabric out. 

As you turned to leave the room a guard stood with Daemon just entering the room. Your eyes drifted to a seat close to the king, Otto had ordered someone to retrieve him. He did not come at his own accord, but he was incredibly intrigued as to what he was called down for. 

“Do you think he is going to drag me back to our room kicking and screaming like a mad woman?” Looking to Otto he was fully facing Daemon who copied every other pair of eyes in the room directing his line of sight towards you. 

“Daemon, get your lady.” Otto ordered as you sneered down at him from where he sat so meekly yet spoke so boldly.

“Good thing we have other business.” Speaking to Otto one last time you took off towards Daemon who stood completely still. He did not move a muscle, he didn’t take orders from Otto Hightower, and he certainly didn’t jump into an otherwise silent room to start a scene. 

“Come with me or don’t, but I’m done here.” You had crossed the threshold to stand in front of Daemon, stretching your body to whisper in his ear. With a nod Daemon stayed close behind you as you walked out of the room and into the hallway. 

“What the hell was that?” Daemon grabbed your arm and yanked you forward in his direction, his voice was much more upset than his demeanor seemed. 

“Give me a son to bear.”  You were not going down without a fight and though you did not have a fully fledged plan you had a plan. But, in order for this plan to work you were going to need Daemon’s full cooperation and ability. The look in Daemon’s eyes was that of reassurance that you have both of those things.

[miitarashi]

OK, so being a woman, in many cases, means getting the dreaded bloodbath, so, as someone who gets the most painful and heavy periods known to man (thats how i feel anyway, i often get cramps that leave me physically unable to walk for up to almost four hours), could u do headcannons where Tintin takes care of the reader during that time? What he would do if we had cramps or just feeling ill on our period, I just think he would be a total sweetheart when it comes to caring for someone who feels sick

Nah i totally feel you on this one,i have really bad cramps too lol. Such cute request need to be done 😌👌🏽

[Name] = reader (female)

Warnings: bloodbath cuz God fucking dammit-

☆Tintin headcanons☆

- Taking care of you on your period

Let's just start by the fact that this boy didn't had that much contact with other womans before. You was the first more active in his life.

Castaphiore is not that present so she don't properly count here (even more on the movie since Tintin only saw her,not even talked before lol)

So,he didn't really know what to expect,to say that he wasn't surprised is a lie even more watching your squirm in pain because of the bloodbath of the month coming down.

The boy got scared for a second,confused and then was just the "Oh..." from the realization lol.

But if you was dramatic about it (just like me,always feel like i'm dying slowly) it'll be 100% more funny. Like

Tintin just got back from the library passing by your home,hear your painful pleas and rush to see you squirming in pain

"[Name],what happen? Are you hurt?"

"Yes! I'm dying!! It hurts like hell! .....i'm seen the light...it's so bright..."

"[Name] don't say it,tell what is wrong,where are you hurted??"

"...Tintin...Tintin my love...my last words...listen and listen well..."

"[Name] please stop and explain!"

"It's this damm uterus!! Take this out!!"

".....what in the great heavens-"

After you finally calmed down (just enough to not make another drama) and explain about the period bro was literally like this 😐

Almost gave him a heart attack but hey! It was hurting you know? You had your reasons.

But after all drama,he soon put his hands at work asking what you wanted and what would make you feel better in his jornalist kinda of way gauthering all the information he could to not need to ask again,only act.

Even more after seen your state,feeling this much pain couldn't be normal.

First thing he did was to get the water compress with hot water for you and quickly get out to buy whatever you asked.

Chocolate,medicine,pads and everything and he new the type since he made sure to ask about it.

Your fluid temper was even a bit funny to watch. In a moment he was cuddling with you because you asked and wanted comfort but suddenly you pushed him away complaining about the closeness.

But as soon he walked a little away you begged for him to come back receiving a well deserved smug look from him.

If you got angry,that was the easy one. He already deal with Haddock,bro now the hints.

"WHY THIS HAPPEN?? IT UNFAIR AS FUCK! WHY I HAVE TO FUCKING BLEED TO DEATH???"

"Indeed,you're right"

"EXACTLY! THIS FUCKING THING! I DON'T EVEN WANT CHILDRENS! WHY THIS SHIT HAPPEN TO ME??? JUST BECAUSE I'M A FUCKING WOMAN?? I DIDN'T MEAN TO BE ONE???"

"Now now..." smoothly coming closer,putting a hand on your shoulder and a chocolate bar on the other. "You're indeed right my dear,now,don't force yourself too much,here" slowly moving the bar towards your mouth that you open and munch the sweet

"There,better?" You nod. "Cuddles and nap?" You nod again and softly follow him.

Bro need one chocolate and a dream lol.

He spend the whole day with you until you feel better,even so he still stay just to be sure that at least the excrutiating pain passed.

And he respect every little thing. You become clingy? He'll keep you around,hugging you from behind,resting his head on your shoulder while watching something, never fully keeping his hands off you.

Want space? He'll keep close just enough to hear and help you with anything you need.

Suddenly feeling sad and ugly? Shower you with compliments saying every little thing he likes or find cute while caressing the back of your hand with his thumb.

Renting and mumbling? Keep talking because this man is listening and focused on your words to discuss about it independent of the subject.

Overal,he'll do his utmost best to help yoi with the monthly bloodbath, even more prepared after this first proper experience of your living hell that you'll not pass alone anymore 😘

___________________________________________

A/N: Hey there! Sorry for the late post,just really was working on that one long fic i just posted on my AO3 account but! I'm back now to write the requests that are getting dust on my ask box lol. And bro??? Why and how i'm so close to have 100 followers?? Like what- thank you guys so much! 😘

[lal-ffxiv]

THE FIRST OF MANY PARTING WORDS - Part 2 of Two (The Adventure[r])

Luka pulls the chocobo to a stop and no sooner does Luka take the rucksack from the porter’s back, that the chocobo kicks off, literally kicking Luka, on its departure.

On the ground, with the air knocked out of them, The Gate of Thal stood over Luka like an adversary preparing to deal the final blow. Luka can’t catch their breath at all, and Luka’s body trembles in anxiety. However, Luka is not making a habit of running from their enemies, so Luka faces the giant gates and with shaky steps enters Ul’dah.

The city felt like an old memory. Luka walks down Pearl Lane remembering the rooms were around there, somewhere. Luka felt memories of walking these steps, opening this door a hundred times over. The room the Luka had resided in for moons now was a ghost. The things were a ghost, Luka didn’t know, could not see, but did feel everything, something, missing nonetheless.

Luka shakes the feeling from their body physically, and looks around the room again. Luka’s sword and shield were against the wall, Luka’s stave on the table, and most of their armor was on the bed. Luka strips off the plainsclothes and into the lightest armor, sword to their belt, shield to their back and the stave to their satchel in which Luka finds the rose pink riverstone. Luka takes the stone in hand until it becomes warm in their palm, and leaves it. Luka leaves the room as is entirely, as there is nothing else they can take with them on their back.

Sofenia has made all the arrangements with a caravan that would be traveling though Wellwick Woods, so all Luka had to do now was find her and they would be on their way. The best places to find Sofenia were in the guild’s hall or the coliseum.

Luka would not make it to either destination though, because once Luka steps onto Emerald Avenue, Luka is swept off their feet in the bulky arms of Fierce Horizon. Luka does their very best to listen to everything being said to them, but the words are a swamp all together. “Coliseum” “incident” “knocked” “bleeding” and other words hadn’t made sense to Luka in the order given. What did stole monies and ill-bids have to do with Sofenia’s health at all?

Fierce Horizon drops Luka back out their feet once the pair reach Frondale’s Phrontistery.

“Sorry Luka. The smell of sickness makes me uneasy.” Fierce Horizon took Luka’s belongings, so they would enter the medical center alone.

In the last room of the hall and in the middle bed Sofenia sleeps as still as death.

Sofenia is not dead yet though. No matter how low, quiet when Luka brought their face close, Luka could feel the soft breaths from her mouth.

“She’s injured.” Luka understands this at least.

“Yes, and these injuries are serious. She has had advanced concoctions, and proves resilient to our medicines. She might be sleeping now, but I would say goodbyes instead of waiting.” the attending nurse said before going out of the room.

Yes, goodbyes because Luka was leaving. Just as planned.

“I will go ahead. You’ll meet me there at the camp when you’re healed.” Luka warmed Sofenia’s hand with their own. “I’ll remember to stand firm, but not still. To keep my shield up. And I’ll wait to meet you there with the Moon Keeper you spoke of.” Luka said all of it to the sleeping Sofenia, and waited. A breath deeper, stronger than rest came from Sofenia, and Luka took as agreement of what they told her. “I’ll meet you there then.” Luka nodded to Sofenia before leaving the room.

“Did you say goodbye?” Fierce Horizon asks as he returns Luka’s weapons and rucksack.

“We promised to see each other again. Worry not Fierce Horizon, Sofenia will be well soon.”

Fierce Horizon outright believes the words. Does not think to ask Luka if Sofenia really woke and spoke to them, but knew a moment later that this was Luka’s belief alone.

Luka smiles after they say it. The light within them is so bright. It's the fire in Luka’s eyes, the shine in the smile and powers Luka’s hope with such strength that Fierce Horizon almost believes the words true anyways.

At the Gate of the Sultana, Fierce Horizon pays a porter for Luka to go as far as Camp Drybone.

“You have a good fight in you Luka. Carry on with it, and you’ll do more than good on your travels.”

“I will!” Luka promises.

Fierce Horizon parts with Luka with a heavy handed pat to their back, which urges the chocobo into running out of the city onward onto their journey.

Now with both hands on the reins, the provisions from the U, only the items of their satchel bag and belt, and the bit of gil from their friend. Luka truly set forth on this adventure.

[agentrouka-blog]

I will admit, I’ve never read the books (for SHAME, I know) and have only seen the show and read many analyses by all you lovely folks (I like my happy little pro Sansa & Jon/Jonsa corner), so the question I’m about to ask might be silly.

I get Varys’ endgame - he wants Aegon (aka a king he has influence over/he thinks will be good) in charge. And that’s been his plan since AGOT, IIRC. But… what do you think was Littlefinger’s plan at the start? Did he even have one? Or was it just “chaos is a ladder” and he was winging it? We know he convinced Lysa to Poison Jon Arryn and place the blame on the Lannisters… was he hoping Ned would make it to the Capitol, let his honor get him killed, and then that would open up Cat for marriage? He tells Lysa he’s only ever loved Cat, but even so I don’t know what a marriage to Cat would get him… He’s always wanted her so there’s satisfaction in that, but would that be enough for a power hungry man like LF? I doubt it. And killing off sickly sweetrobin is one thing, but Cat had three healthy boys so it’s not like he could reasonably get that warden position. Obviously, at some point his plan became “get Sansa the North, Riverlands, and the Vale and become her consort,” but I find it hard to believe that was his plan from the very start… I’m rambling now so I’ll shut up, but would love to know your thoughts on it??

Hi there!

First of all:

(We shame because we love. <3 )

That out of the way, I think Littlefinger’s main motivation with Ned is not gaining power through a marriage to Catelyn. As you describe, that’s an impossibility. 

I’d say it’s simple revenge, alongside the intention to destabilize the kingdoms to create some of that much-desired chaos for ladder purposes. 

Petyr Baelish was a charity ward in a High Lord’s castle, and the effect of growing up in such an environment, the wealth and opportunity and power he witnessed without being able to fully partake - and the ease with which he was expelled - left a deep wound and an insatiable ambition. 

He challenged Brandon Stark (!) for Catelyn’s hand, perhaps because he believed she slept with him that one time, perhaps because he genuninely believed (like Quentyn) the power of a good story would be enough to overcome reality, and their classist society and give him his dream. Instead he was beaten to a pulp and then thrown out on his still-recovering butt two weeks later when Lysa spilled the beans about the pregnancy to Hoster. 

Everyone thought it was because of that stupid duel with Brandon Stark, but that wasn't so. (ASOS, Sansa VII)

He was completely humiliated and reminded of “his place”, and had only Lysa’s infatuation left to capitalize on. Which he did thoroughly. A slow climb based on flexibly taking advantage of every opportunity he could identify. Once the pieces lined up, he could get to work on doing to them what was done to him. 

Littlefinger gets Ned killed - killed and humiliated and publicly stripped of his honor: the guy who got Catelyn, brother to the guy who physically humiliated him. But he also destroys Catelyn’s happiness, her family, her peace. He may have loved her, and he certainly uses that sentiment as a weapon to hurt Lysa in her final moments, but it’s not his motivation to be with Catelyn now. 

He transferred that past obsession onto someone new, and incorporated that into his plan to destroy his past “enemies” Tully and Stark, while at the same time making her a potential puzzle piece to gaining power through her (as of yet potential) inheritance. 

Reason 1: her look and her family connection (easily controlled replacement Catelyn)

When Sansa finally looked up, a man was standing over her, staring. He was short, with a pointed beard and a silver streak in his hair, almost as old as her father. "You must be one of her daughters," he said to her. He had grey-green eyes that did not smile when his mouth did. "You have the Tully look."

"I'm Sansa Stark," she said, ill at ease. The man wore a heavy cloak with a fur collar, fastened with a silver mockingbird, and he had the effortless manner of a high lord, but she did not know him. "I have not had the honor, my lord." 

Septa Mordane quickly took a hand. "Sweet child, this is Lord Petyr Baelish, of the king's small council."

"Your mother was my queen of beauty once," the man said quietly. His breath smelled of mint. "You have her hair." His fingers brushed against her cheek as he stroked one auburn lock. Quite abruptly he turned and walked away. (AGOT, Sansa II)

Reason 2: her romanticism, which is thoroughly unlike Catelyn and feeds into the fantasies he harbored as a boy.

Lord Baelish stroked his little pointed beard and said, "Nothing? Tell me, child, why would you have sent Ser Loras?"

Sansa had no choice but to explain about heroes and monsters. The king's councillor smiled. "Well, those are not the reasons I'd have given, but …" He had touched her cheek, his thumb lightly tracing the line of a cheekbone. "Life is not a song, sweetling. You may learn that one day to your sorrow."

Sansa did not feel like telling all that to Jeyne, however; it made her uneasy just to think back on it. (AGOT, Sansa III)

Reason 3: the Bael the Bard move. 

One day in his bitterness he called Bael a craven who preyed only on the weak. When word o' that got back, Bael vowed to teach the lord a lesson. (ACOK, Jon VI) 

He was humiliated so he’ll humiliate them back, by stealing the daughter of his enemies (Tully and Stark) and making her his, claiming their legacy and turning it into his own. 

He has pragmatic, political reasons to use Sansa as a pawn, but his inability to control himself around her, his uninvited touching gives away that he is personally invested.  

That’s what will break his neck eventually. He’ll trip into vastly overestimating himself like he did with Brandon, and this time no one will beg to spare him. Not because that boy back then deserved to be crushed by feudal hierarchy, but because he allowed himself to become a monster because of his bitterness and caused vast death and destruction. 

[abelladxnna]

Spirit Portals

Note: I have not watched any of the anime episodes featuring the Ghost World so this will definitely be canon-divergent.

Although communicating with the dead is still practiced today - especially by channelers, mediums, and hex maniacs - to deliberately enter the Ghost World has been strictly prohibited since ancient times. All attempts to study this world have failed due to recording devices instantly malfunctioning.

While there is no evidence of this, few historical texts speak of the Platinum Clan from the Hisui region, where its members supposedly learned the ability to open portals into the Ghost World. With these, they would be able to travel to other parts of the physical world, or even a different time or dimension.

It is believed that not only do numerous ghost Pokemon dwell in this world, but so do restless spirits of humans and they are considered to be more dangerous than ghost Pokemon. When sensing a live being in their world, they will attempt to reach out to the traveler and incessantly whisper and wail into their ears. Listening to these voices for too long will eventually drive the person mad and they may become forever lost within the world and soon become one of the spirits unable to move on.

As such, it is strongly ill-advised for any human to attempt venturing inside this world on their own accord. Thankfully, it seems as though the knowledge on how to open these portals has not been p̵̨̙͔̖̝̝̖͋ȧ̸̮̟̺s̶̛͔̮̓̈̚ͅs̴̘͉͇̝̞͉̑e̷̛͙͋͊̀̉̆̉d̶͔͕͙̘̬͆̍͝͝ ̸͓͉̟͐̈́̇̐́d̵̨̤́̑̆̓̓͝o̵̳͚̣̥̳͎͐̔̑ẘ̴̰͗̄̆̀̈́̈́n̴͍̞̪͖͒̈́͐͜͝-̴̻͓̥̿͐͘-̴̖͛̓.̸̨̫̀̎.̴͈̞̪̲̭̗́̄̄.̶̡̊̕.....

You do your best to keep your knees from shaking and your breath quiet as Kita is peeking around the corner, checking to see if your pursuers are still after you.

This was a very stupid idea. In what right mind did you think that it'd be fun to tag along with one of Kita's heists?? She'd even warned you that this particular job was going to be dangerous too!

Tears begin to prick your eyes as you whisper, "What do we do?? There's no way out of this, is there? We're at a dead end, we're gonna get caught and get arrested or worse and oh Arceus--!"

Kita slaps a hand over your mouth, her amber eyes seeming to bore deep into your soul. Her usual carefree attitude and smile have vanished and somehow her serious face sends a shiver down your spine.

"Calm. Down," she says and at that moment is seems as though even the blaring alarm is silenced. "Now listen. There is a way out of here. But I'm gonna need you to trust me."

Her hand is still over your mouth so you don't reply but you do wait for her to continue.

"You're going to be fine. But you need to do exactly as I say. Keep your eyes closed and no matter what you hear or feel, ignore it. You need to keep your eyes closed and don't let go of my hand. "

You blink, not knowing what to think of her order.

"Nod if you understand."

You do. What other choice was there but to listen to her?

She appears unconvinced as she draws back her hand. Your heart begins to beat rapidly as the voices of your pursuers are heard amidst the siren but you're once again confused when Kita pulls out a pair of earplugs.

"Good thing I had extras," she says and before she forces the plugs into your ears, she repeats: "Do not open your eyes until I say okay. And do not let go of my hand."

[satans-left-asscheeky]

more child sole lmao how would the companions react to kid sole just. fuckin biting someone. in self-defense, yeah, but there are still several other ways they could defend themselves they just choose teeth

Maccready

"No! We don't put anything but food in our mouths. Okay?"

As a parent it's a conversation he's had many times, usually when Duncan tried to eat a comic book or stuffing from his teddy bear, so sole bitting into a raider was new territory for him he'll admit. He's hoping the same parenting technique works, because truth be told he's exhausted and out of ideas.

Hancock

"Now I'm not sure if I took psycho and just don't remember it, or if you did... either way this might sound hypocritical coming from me, but you are way to young for drugs...."

Once they had told him no they were not on his chems he would talk to them about why it's not okay to go feral ghoul on people and just take a chomp outta them.... Truth be told he'd done it a few times, but like he said he's a hypocrite, and he was trying to set a good example here.

Cait

"That's it! Make em' pay!"

Its a good thing sole was prewar. Cait had seen her for share of people bite off more than they can chew and ending up losing a tooth. Dental care isn't exactly great in the wastes, but this little shit has teeth of steel perfect for chomping and chomp they shall.

Danse

"Absolutely not acceptable soldier! You are part of the brotherhood, not a common scavver, you can't go around biting people."

He'd sound like an angry dad the entire time. He'd lecture sole the whole way back to the prydwen/police station about ethics and what is and isn't acceptable in hand to hand combat

Curie

"While I know you were in quite the pickle there, please do not bite people! You could get many unwanted diseases"

Shes very concerned about soles health both mental and physical, but for the moment she's more concerned about them becoming ill, and is to stunned to try and tackle the mental this very instant.

Deacon

"I'm guessing you're a little behind on your rabies shots? Did you know rabies is one of the most deadly illnesses? Its said once you start experiencing symptoms its already to late..... welp guess you're screwed"

If he had successfully spooked sole with the rabies lie he'd call it a day, but if they rolled their eyes and didn't belive him he'd keep trying to sell them the whole rabies thing until he felt they were efficiently scared. He's of the opinion if someone traumatizes you, you traumatize them right back. He never though a child could creep him out this much, but holy shit being bitten by a crazed child was now on deacons top 10 fears list. Safe to say he's either sleeping with one eye open, or duck taping the little piranha's mouth shut before bed.

Piper

"Blue! We do not bite people... If they weren't already dead I'd consider making you apologize! Now please for the love of everything, spit that out"

She'd be disgusted. Did Sole know where that had been? And if they did, did they really want it in their mouth? Yuck.

Nick

"Now why would you do that... I cant imagine commonwealth cuisine could ever taste good let alone raw....come on let's get you cleaned up... got a bit of raider stuck in your teeth"

Maniacal beeping is one thing, but chewing down on some low lives is another, beyond the part where it's just plain gross its also not the most morally sound way of dealing with threats either...

Preston

"Uhhh you've got blood.... in your teeth?"

A child going feral was not apart of what he had planned today give him a minute to ground himself. Preston's internally freaking out, because what the fuck just happened!?

X6-88

"That was lazy Sir/Ma'am. Next time you get close enough to bite someone, try sticking your thumbs in their eye socket instead... trust me it's far more effective.... and far more satisfying"

He's done it before...

[minsyal]

The Fugitive: Finding Home, Pt. 2

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

The Fugitive: Finding Home Masterlist

Part 1 - The Beginning

“Mother Miranda, I’ve been requesting new maids for at least six months to this day.”

“That’s because you keep eating your other ones.”

You were shaken awake.

“I think that my castle would be best suited for her.”

“Oh, so you can bleed ‘er dry? You think that would really be the best use of anyone’s time?” A familiar voice retorted.

“Good morning!” A shrill voice squeaked as what felt like wood kicked at your face. “She’s up! She’s up! She’s up!” It exclaimed excitedly with a bounce, the voice became softer as the skittering of feet scrambled away.

“Ah,” the unfamiliar smooth woman’s voice cooed as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings. There were what looked to be six figures in the room. Miranda stood before you, perched upon a stage-like area that once housed what you could only imagine was a priest or preacher. To the left sat a cloaked woman with a blob of white resting in her lap. Another woman, also adorned in a white garb, sat towering over the rest, the light constant trickle of smoke danced upward from her vintage cigarette holder. On your right sat a familiar face, the man from the village who had saved you only a few hours prior. You’d come to know him as Lord Heisenberg. He maintained the large woman’s gaze, but the look held no love or any remote sense of familial belonging. Instead, his eyes were set ablaze, even behind the shaded rims of his glasses. Lastly, a shorter creature with a large hunched back moved ungracefully around. Its long gangly arms accompanied by its deformed face only aided in the growing unease.

The dull ache of your shoulder only distracted you from the bindings of your wrists for a moment. Your attention was quickly drawn to the rough ropes that dug their thorny threads into the soft skin of your wrists. Everything ached, mentally and physically.

“I do think she would be best suited with me.” The tall woman repeated herself. “There’s no doubt Moreau wouldn’t be able to handle her, and likely not the rest of you either.”

The hunched creature whirled back, throwing a forlornly glare in the woman’s direction. You supposed that was Moreau.

“You think I couldn’t handle her?” Heisenberg shot back, bent forward to rest his weight on his heels. His relationship with the large woman was clearly tumultuous given his outburst and her subsequent reaction.

“You always get them.” The shrill voice called. It was the doll; the fucking doll was talking... not that this should surprise you at this point. “She should come with us! We need more friends.”

“You’re not included in this conversation.” The tall woman mocked with a fierce glare shot violently at the doll as its mouth hung slack.

“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Thus far, nobody had managed to answer your simple question. The lot turned toward you, the majority with piercing stares. “Guess not.” You muttered, becoming quite fed up with the range of emotions you had been experiencing over the past day. If it kept going in this direction, you’d surely have to be treated for whiplash.

“She’s already proven to be a considerable pain in my neck.” Miranda loudly projected. Her steps were a clear juxtaposition to her tone, falling light on the church floor as she approached. “One villager is unable to walk, another dead.”

“Dead?” The words fell before you could stop yourself. She didn’t answer.

“Please,” Heisenberg leaned back once more, his hand moving to the interior of his jacket, “the dumb thing practically laid down when she was attacked by a lycan.” His fingers fumbled around the darkened paper of a cigar. Yellow, blonde streaks flashed upon his face as the distinguishable clink of a metal lighter was flicked. “I wouldn’t call that too capable.”

“My friend pushed me.” You argued, once again mentally reeling for the outburst.

Heisenberg let out a huff of smoke, intentionally blowing it in the tall woman’s direction, “sounds like a piss poor friend.”

“Enough.” Miranda had taken to her spot at the front near the alter once more. “The girl shall go to Alcina.”

A wicked smile crossed the tall woman’s face. “Thank you, Mother Miranda. It is so good to have you back.”

“Where are you from?” One of the girls ushered you through the depths of the castle. She wore a simple gown with stitches at the bottom, holding together the frail fabric that looked to be decades old.

“America.”

The girl cocked her head to the side like a newborn. “I don’t know of that town.”

Upon arrival you were escorted down to what was described as the maids’ chambers. In a small stone room, you were assigned a cot, given a chest, and told to change into uniform. Your arm ached and spasmed as you lifted the lid of the trunk open. Somewhere between being shot by the villagers and being transported to Castle Dimitrescu, the bullet was removed from your shoulder and replaced with gauze that limited the mobility of your arm. The distinct oily feeling of grease caused friction between the bandages and your clothes; the ache of alcohol still stung, causing a sore numbness.

The Lady insisted all maids conform to the strict code of dress. Long, unflattering dresses, short heels, and sometimes a headscarf if hair wasn’t pulled tautly into a bun at the base of one’s neck were a few things to name the least. You always wore the headscarf, which was a thin piece of grey lace that attached at the peak of your hairline, cascading over your shoulders to land at waist-length.

The rest of the day passed slowly. You learned the ins and outs of the castle, became acquainted with the sparse staff that only consisted of women, and met Alcina’s daughters from a distance. The next two weeks passed the same way.

Wake up, clean the castle, serve Lady and her daughters, go to bed. That was your routine. Though, the sounds that seeped from the halls at night prompted unwavering curiosity. Heisenberg had mentioned the ill-fated maids that had the luxury of serving the Dimitrescu women back in that church. Nothing at this point had you doubting that was the case. But you assured yourself daily that you would not accept the castle’s fate; you would get out of here one way or another.

You had only been at the mercy of Lady Dimitrescu once to this day. A small spat broke out between maids and the arrival of the head of house had the women squealing lies of how you were the one to start it.

“She stole our rations!” The girl with the wide nose accused her chubby finger outstretched in your direction.

“I didn’t steal anything, you dirty fucking liar.”

“She did. We were squabbling over how she should be punished.” The other girl replied, tucking a shaking hand behind her back as she straightened her poor posture.

“A thief,” Alcina regarded you, “that’s a shame.” Knives skid across the thin skin of your forearm. “Another outburst like this and there will be harsher consequences.” Red stained her tongue as she ran the claw through her cherry-red lips.

As she sauntered down the hall and out of sight, you uncurled your arm from your chest, wincing at the large crimson stain it left on your dress.

“Fresh face.” The words ricocheted off the wall in front of you. Footsteps steadfastly approached from behind. He walked with an effortless swagger, legs slightly bowed with each lyrical step. You’d gone for the quiet route after the situation, finding that silence often pleased those that ruled over the castle. “Here I was thinkin’ it would take you a little longer to lose that fight.” He stepped closer; the unmissable smell of tobacco seeped from his lips. “Looks like I was wrong.”

Instead of words, you held his gaze through unimpressed eyes. Hues of yellows, greys, and greens met yours from beneath his rounded glasses. You could see more of him from here. A large scar ran from the right of his face to the left, the lifted skin healing over leaving memories of whatever had happened. In fact, the majority of his face was plagued with scars. One ran from the bottom of his lip down to his chin, disappearing beneath the stubble of his beard. You wondered if his disdain toward Alcina was founded by those wretched claws of hers. His hair was wirey with shades of brown and peppered grey streaking through the ends. Quite honestly, he was an attractive man.

“I’ve got a name, you know?”

“I don’t think I cared to ask.”

“Then I suppose you aren’t deserving of one either.”

“Well,” he tapped at your chest with a gloved finger, “I think you’ve got a little spunk left in you, sweetheart.”

“Call me Y/n.”

“No last name?” He deadpanned.

“L/n.”

He nodded, but you felt as though your words had passed through him like a ghost.

“Karl.” He gave a lazy bow, tilting the rim of his hat. “But I think you probably already knew that.”

“Gossip and information don’t come easily from the maids here. Sorry,” you pressed your lips together, “I didn’t know.”

Karl gave a shrug.

“Do you know what happened to my friend?” The thought had been playing on your mind for the past few weeks.

He raised an inquisitive brow and turned his head to peer out the shaded window. “The so-called friend that left you to become lycan chow?” A hearty tut left his chest. “I think she’s assimilated into the town.”

“Dumb bitch.” You breathed.

“There’s that spark.” He stood tall with an artificial sense of pride. It had been a long time since somebody in the village was willing to use such crude language in front of any of the Lords, let alone Miranda. It almost astonished him that they’d let you live after the killing of Adelina’s brother. The gun misfired; it wasn’t really your fault.

Another week of growing suspicions and two newly missing maids, you finally attempted to seek out the dungeons that everyone spoke of but warned to stray from. You had to know what was going on here.

“Lost?” Heisenberg’s voice appeared at your right side. His chin almost rested upon your shoulder; the stubble of his beard scratched at your neck. “This isn’t a place I’d get lost in if I were you. In fact, it’s not even a place you should be exploring.”

“Are you going to run to Alcina if I do?” You didn’t face him, why would you? The hallway was cramped, restricting of any sort of movement other than in the direction you were going.

“Me?” He leaned backward to stand at full height. Your body cursed silently, wishing nothing more than to have him close again. How he wasn’t hitting his head on the rafter just inches above floored you. “I hate that bitch. You do what you want, but I won’t bail you out when you get caught.”

“Good thing I don’t plan on being caught then.” You descended the metal ladder, only looking upward for a moment to catch a glimpse of Heisenberg leaning over the opening. An eerie smile was plastered on his lips, it was almost smug.

The dungeons were as you imagined. Cold water trickled down some of the walls, likely due to cracks in the castle’s foundation accompanied by the ever melting of the outside snow. It smelled of mothballs and garlic, something musty was clinging to the air. You noted a few turns here and there, attempting to memorize the path you had taken in case you needed to make a swift escape. What didn’t help was the skid of your maid’s clothes along the rigid floor.

Muffled cries put you further onto the edge. The narrow hall gave way to a large room filled with arched stonework. Metal bars shot from floor to ceiling, hinges creaked as the sound of hands banging against them filled your eardrums. You didn’t want to go further, scared of any repercussions should any of the jailed women recognize and rat you out.

Turning to head to the ladder, you collided with a chest. “Leaving so soon?” Heisenberg again.

“Shh!” You slapped at his chest with a closed fist, only realizing what you had done when the action was completed. He looked rightfully amused. Everything that you had learned of these “Lords” up to now told you to act less casually with him, to put on an air of respect at the very least. But there was something surprisingly human about him. Something that told you it was okay despite it potentially not being so. At this point, you were only prolonging the inevitable.

“What?” He started, swiftly being cut off by approaching footsteps. Firm hands grasped at your arms, pulling your face forward into his chest. “Open your mouth and I’ll feed you to whatever’s coming.” He said through his teeth, trapping your arms between your two bodies.

The room grew dim, the wall behind your back became close even though you had not moved at all. Heisenberg’s grip was strong on your forearms, causing you to inaudibly hiss as his thumb dug into the slash Alcina had left weeks prior. The footsteps were accompanied by the soft cries of a woman, gasping pleas of being let go falling silent on the ears of her assailant. A minute passed; the dungeon fell soundless.

“You can breathe now.” His lips lingered close to your ear, once again sending a rush of chills crawling down your skin. He knew what he was doing.

“I’ve been breathing.” You breathily retorted sounding as if you had just run a marathon.

“Whatever you say, doll.”

The wall behind you gave way, moving on its own. You turned; the materials that had been pressed to your back laid themselves on the ground. Heisenberg’s smile was unmissable. “Go ahead.” His voice was gravely, gruff, a slight melancholy dismay underlying. Heisenberg desired for you to implore what just happened, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. You refused to see him as anything but normal, for if you did give in to the village’s mental games, you’d likely find yourself going mad. He was a man, you told yourself, nothing more.

“I thought you weren’t going to bail me out?”

“I wasn’t.” He tightened his grip on your arms. “But I figured it’d be a shame to lose such a pretty face so soon.”

“I, I’m sure you say that to all the girls here.” You couldn’t hold his gaze at this distance. Perhaps Adelina was right, you were rather frumpy and unexperienced.

A huff came as he exhaled, a thoughtful tug of his lips upward accompanied it. He didn’t answer, a reoccurring event with those who inhabited this town.

Heisenberg had been keeping his trips to and from the castle a secret. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he felt so inclined to bother with the outsider woman who appeared in the village one fateful evening. Perhaps he was growing bored of his daily routine with no results to show. Maybe he was enticed by the well of knowledge you held of the outside world. Maybe it was something else, something human. The Lord’s weren’t allowed to stray far from the village. The other three lived delightfully oblivious, completely okay with never exploring the unknown. Heisenberg, on the other hand, was not. Your friend, Jess as he recalled you calling her, was far from interesting to him. It didn’t take a genius to tell how low her I.Q. had to be. She conformed easily to the village and by all accounts had been down talking you to the others she met. She quickly fell into the same brainwashed daze of worship.

It had been another turbulent week of utter chaos around every corner. Nobody knew of your adventure into the depths of Castle Dimitrescu and you had no intentions of spreading any gossip among the maids. They all seemed to have it out for you anyway. You were the “outsider,” as one described it. It was so blatantly evident to them that you were not going to conform to their ways. And that disturbed them.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t your fair share of punishment to this point. In actuality, you had received a significantly greater amount of beratements and surface wounds from Alcina and her daughters. You thought to Heisenberg often, continually wondering how your life would differ had Miranda bestowed you upon him. He was irresistibly charming in his own twisted sense. Every word that escaped his mouth heavily contradicted his actions. You received a good number of swats to the hand stemming from woeful daydreaming of the man you hardly knew.

He could be dangerous, you’d tell yourself before slipping into yet another sequence of fervent and unrelenting thoughts stemming from the mysterious man. He was a Lord, one placed in a top position according to the village’s hierarchy. You just weren’t sure why.

There had been countless times the man had sauntered into the castle, “accidentally” run into you, and held brief conversation.

The other maids were assholes. Though you had concluded this swiftly upon entering the castle, their recent actions only solidified your feelings.

It had been only a day since Heisenberg’s last visit. He strolled into the castle, easing his way past the maids as they hurriedly passed by. They paid him no mind. The evening sun had begun to set in the sky. Lady Dimitrescu had gone out for the night, instructing her girls to hold down the castle while she was away. The three of them had descended into the dungeons, not to be seen again until morning. This left the halls free and roamable for the savvy Lord.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Your voice caught his attention. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Marybeth.”

Shrill voices argued back and forth behind the kitchen doors. The sound of muffled giggles fell on his ears; it was an unusual sound within the castle walls. The girls must be relaxed knowing they’re safe from punishment tonight. At least, that’s what they thought.

In a second, the hinges of the door burst off, sending the heavy frame crashing down to the tiled floor. Shrieks came quickly and died on their lips as soon as the girls realized who was there.

“Lord Heisenberg.” One woman bowed her head, concealing something within her hands as she placed them in her lap, clasped tightly together. “Lady Dimitrescu has left for the evening.”

“I know.” His brow raised at the scene set before him. You stood to the rear of the kitchen, clearly irate at something the woman who regarded him had done. Five other women were huddled with the one who spoke, following her lead and averting their gazes. No aroma of cuisine drifted from the empty cauldron, only the stale scent of curing meats clung to the air.

“What’s going on in here?” He looked directly at you from beneath the lid of his hat.

“We were cleaning the kitchen.” The maid spoke through shaking breaths.

After a pensive moment, he waved his hand. “You’re dismissed. Except,” he held his hand at your chest as you attempted to pass, “you.”

The girls stumbled over the door, making quick work of getting back to their quarters and away from the Lord. You listened as the audience of feet trampled away. None of the girls here knew how to walk in heels causing for a rather elephant-like clomping of shoes wherever they went.

“What really happened?”

“Do you care?”

“Not particularly, but color me curious.”

“Don’t get them in trouble.” You demanded through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to deal with the aftermath.”

He chortled. “You seem more afraid of them than you are of me.”

“You’ve not given me a reason to be scared.”

Your back pressed to the wall, a glass chalice fell, shattering against the floor. The lapels of his jacket and dog tags pushed to your chest were still cold from the frosted night air. “Do I need to give you a reason?”

“I just,” embarrassment rose in your cheeks, “would you stop doing this?” There was no budging the man. His strength far outweighed yours, easily acting as if your pushing against his chest was nothing but a soft breeze.

“Doing what?” A smirk grew on his lips. God, he loved this.

“This!” Your clenched fist banged on his chest, not rattling him in the slightest. Droplets of claret liquid ran from your palm to your elbow. “Dammit, Karl. Move.”

The use of his first name was new. A solid hand closed around your wrist, bringing it up to eye level. He tilted back, adjusting his vision. The raise of his brow signaled that he wanted you to open your hand. Complying, you cringed as the reddened skin screamed for relief.

“They did this?”

“It’s no different from the other injuries I’ve gotten here.”

“It’s deep.” He reached into the pocket of his trench coat. “Don’t let anyone know you’ve got this.” A silver tin slipped from his hand to yours, you pried at its ridges with your nail.

Heisenberg disappeared after that, taking off with a dramatic throw of the castle doors as he disappeared into the dense forest. He had given you a tin of salve and a bandage.

“Lady Dimitrescu has requested your presence.”

The Fugitive: Finding Home Part 3 - Foreign Thoughts

I'm so excited for where this fic is going...

Feedback is always appreciated

Tag list: (let me know if you want to be tagged)

@ambiguous-g @ren-ni @metaphorical-love-for-a-car @lgbtomatoes

[skzsauce01]

Angel Sent From Up Above

Anniversary Request Special

Synopsis: Hyunjin, a new guardian angel, has fallen in love with a human. His human’s girlfriend, to be precise. Angel AU, background college AU and skater AU.

Warning: violence

Word Count: 8.3k

Pairing: fem!reader x guardian angel!Hyunjin; fem!reader x human!Jeongin

“Is she healed now?” Hyunjin asks the moment Jisung flies in. He knows Jisung is probably exhausted from keeping maladies away from you, but he needs the answer now. “Is her flu gone?”

“Yeah.” Jisung’s wings are tinged gray with ruin, but he keeps them on display for all the other guardian angels to see as he walks past them. They are proof that he has been doing his duty. They’ll return to white soon enough anyway. “Your human’s her boyfriend. Why didn’t you try to check through him? He visited a few times even though she told him not to.” Jisung sighs and shakes his head. “What an idiot. He’s going to get sick himself.”

“He hasn't visited recently, so I haven’t been able to check through him. The Archangel’s forbade me going to Earth unless it was something serious. I think he’s worried I'm spending too much time with humans.”

Jisung shakes his head. “I think he’s worried that he’s going to have to Seungmin you.”

“I'm not going to get expelled.”

Jisung shrugs, and ruin falls from his wings like ash. “You better watch out. You checked up on her too much last time she got sick, so he's probably trying to make sure you won't abandon your human. He's banished people for less. Case in point: Seungmin.”

“She's important to Jeongin, so she's important to me."

Jisung sighs. “Sometimes I think you’re more protective of her than I am.”

He says it as a joke, but Hyunjin knows it’s the truth. He cares deeply about you, maybe even more than his own human, but he will never say that last part aloud.

Hyunjin used to believe that becoming a guardian angel was the best thing that ever happened to him. All of his afterlife, he had wanted to be promoted, to be granted the pure white wings and the crown of sun rays. Regular angels had wings and halos but never white wings and golden halos; silver and silver was the “regular” combination.

Watching over a human was considered the highest honor an angel could receive, and everyone clamored to gain the attention of the Archangel. Hyunjin was not immune. He worked as a messenger for years, delivering even the most inane notes between the higher ups. He endured the attacks, verbal and sometimes physical, and kept his mouth shut. Eventually, the Archangel recognized his efforts, and before dawn broke on Earth, Hyunjin was named the new guardian angel of a baby boy, Yang Jeongin.

“You will protect him. You will guide him,” the Archangel said. “He is your responsibility now and yours alone. Do you understand?”

From Heaven, Hyunjin could only look at the wet, wrinkled face of his human. His human. “I understand.”

Then the Archangel flew off, and Hyunjin flew to Earth for the first time to meet the baby. No one noticed him as he phased through the hospital walls nor as his giant wings folded back. Only Jeongin would be able to see his guardian angel.

“Hello there, little one,” he whispered to the swaddled baby. The boy was fast asleep, and Hyunjin gently stroked his face. “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Hyunjin, your official guardian angel. I’ll always be nearby now, and I’ll always make sure you’re safe. Sometimes you won’t be able to see me, but I’ll always be watching over you. I promise.”

Jeongin stirred awake and stared back at Hyunjin. Two sets of eyes blinked at each other, one full of curiosity and one full of tenderness.

“Go back to sleep,” Hyunjin said. He drew his hand over the baby’s face, and Jeongin’s eyes fluttered shut. “Sweet dreams, little one.”

Guardian angels talked about their humans like parents, bragging about how gifted they were and sharing complaints about what unbelievable thing they did the other day. Hyunjin mostly did the latter. Jeongin was an adventurous child, which was just a nice way of saying that he liked to play with danger. Hyunjin often had to fly in to save him or to redirect the threat somewhere else. The other angels joked that Hyunjin stayed on Earth more than Heaven sometimes. He didn’t mind though. Even with his human’s shortcomings, Hyunjin adored him. He watched from above as Jeongin said his first words, attended his first day of kindergarten, and got into his first fight.

“He’s a troublemaker,” Minho observed.

Minho was a guardian angel as well, but he tended to lurk on the outer edges of the realm as the other angels avoided him for a reason Hyunjin hadn’t figured out yet. Hyunjin liked him well enough and treated him like a mentor, sometimes a friend.

“Hey, you’re not one to talk. Your human started a black market of candy at school.”

Minho shrugged. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

Jeongin didn’t end up growing up into a troublemaker, to Hyunjin’s relief. The impulsive streak was still there, but he utilized his judgement more now. There were no car crashes or cases of alcohol poisoning, and when Jeongin asked out girls, it was with daisy bouquets and a suggestion to get lunch. Hyunjin slowly stopped making routine trips to Earth and chose to view Jeongin from the comfort of Heaven. It was there that Hyunjin noticed you.

“I think she’s upset with him,” Jisung abruptly says. “She cried after a video call with him, so if your human starts acting strangely, that’s why.”

The news makes Hyunjin stop mid-step, and he turns to his friend. “She cried? What? What did she cry about?”

“I don’t know. I was too busy trying to lower her temperature. Can you believe that she almost hit—”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I just got back! There is no ‘earlier!’ Besides, we aren't allowed to interfere in anything that isn't dangerous. Heartbreak, if this is even what this is, is temporary."

“Humans do drastic things for love.” The movies has seen while watching Jeongin have told him that much.

“Which we will attend to when it happens. You’re a new guardian; you’ll understand them better over time. Not everything is life-threatening, fragile as they are.”

Hyunjin turns away from Jisung and glances down at Earth. The clouds part, and all of the brick buildings of the university rush towards his eyes as he focuses on Jeongin. He’s asleep at his desk, his lamp still burning bright above him. How long has it been since the video call? Or perhaps he’s just tired from the events of his day. But he looks so small and vulnerable in his chair. Jeongin isn’t fragile — the amount of situations he has gotten out of covered in bruises and blood is astronomical — but he is mortal.

“But she loves him,” Hyunjin softly says, “and he loves her.”

“Exactly. Humans fight over small things all the time, and this is one of those times.” Jisung places a hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder to placate him. “Trust me.”

“... I trust you.”

“Good. I need to rest, but we can catch up and see what stupid things they do after.”

The moment Jisung flies off to the rest area, Hyunjin goes against the Archangel’s orders and flies to your apartment. When he peers inside your bedroom window, he spots you sitting in bed in the dark, your phone screen illuminating your face. He phases inside and sits at your desk chair, resting his forearms at the top rail. You can’t see him, but he wishes that you could.

You mindlessly scroll through messages, sniffling every few seconds. Whether it’s from your crying or your illness, he doesn’t know. He can’t hand you a tissue or tell you comforting things or hug you like Jeongin can. When you wrap your blanket tighter around your shoulders, he wraps his wings around himself as well.

Suddenly you throw your phone beside you and let out a heavy sigh. “It can’t get any worse than this,” you say to yourself.

Hyunjin waits for you to say more, but you only stare at the ceiling with blank eyes. He can’t compel you to talk; only Jisung can, but he’s not here. So instead, Hyunjin knocks over the glass of water on your bed when you shift into a more comfortable position.

“Of course it can,” you sigh again and blot as much water as you can with your tissues. You pull another one out of the box with more force than necessary and furiously dab your sheets. “First I get sick, then I miss a homework deadline that I can’t make up because my professor lost his heart thirty years ago along with his hair, then my boyfriend breaks up with me for like no reason, apparently I have an exam tomorrow, and now I’ve spilled water all over my bed, so I can’t even sleep. Thank you, universe. I really needed this.”

He immediately regrets his decision.

“Worst freaking week of my life,” you mumble as you throw away the wet tissues. Hyunjin almost reaches out for your arm when you pass by, but he retracts it just in time.

When you climb back into bed, you draw your blanket up to your chin and begin murmuring numbers. They come out calm and even at first, but they become more tense as time passes. Hyunjin half-listens as he scans the contents of your desk. A laptop, a shopping bag, an open notebook with doodles on the margins, an uncapped black pen, and a pack of gum. He presses his forefinger to the point of the pen, drawing a tiny heart by touch. Then he stamps the heart among all your misshapen stars and imaginary flowers. You might just think it’s an ink smear, but he hopes you look at it and smile.  

You hit three hundred and forty-seven before you begin to sound drowsy. Hyunjin stands at the foot of your bed, watching as you finally drift off in the middle of three hundred and ninety-three. Serenity settles across your features.

“I’m sorry for what I did earlier. Good night and sweet dreams,” he whispers. He pats the corner of your bed before flying off into the night.

He needs to see Jeongin.

It was hard not to notice you when you were on a collision course with Jeongin. You were going too fast, and Hyunjin’s wings couldn’t carry him to Earth in milliseconds. With horror, he watched as you sharply turned the building corner on your skateboard and just barely jumped off in time when you saw Jeongin about to make the same turn.

“You okay?” Jeongin asked as he hurried to stop your runaway board.

“I should be asking you that!” you exclaimed as you followed him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have veered that close to the wall. You’re not hurt or anything, right?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Good. I can’t risk getting sued again.” Unsure of how to respond, Jeongin nudged back your board to you. You neatly stopped it mid-roll with your foot. “Thanks, by the way. See you around.”

“Yeah, see you.”

You kicked off, but before you left the area, you turned around and gave him a wave. Jeongin waved back, albeit more shyly than you. After a moment’s hesitation, he yelled out, “Be careful!”

“I’ll try!”

Jeongin laughed and turned the corner, looking at the brick wall with more wistfulness than most people usually did. Before he entered the building, he peeked around the next corner, as if he expected you to come speeding by again. You didn’t.

After that, he noticed you more often, usually swerving around strangers as you cut through campus. Whenever he had the opportunity to say hello, he did so with a smile, and you returned it with a waggle of your fingers before disappearing into the crowd. Once, you nearly crashed into a railing. You laughed it off and gave him another wave along with a funny face. Hyunjin felt something inside him melt. Jeongin must have too since he headed to his next class with the most lovestruck expression Hyunjin had ever seen on him.

It was then that Jeongin began forming a plan.

Two weeks after the first meeting, Jeongin waited in the quad for you to show up. Just as he hoped, you came walking down the steps fifteen minutes later, skateboard tucked underneath your arm. It was supposed to seem like a coincidence, but Hyunjin had followed Jeongin as he scoured nearby skate spots, asking around about you. Yesterday, he had learned where you liked to practice tricks. He got up from his bench, hands hidden behind his back, and approached you with the same moves and confidence he had rehearsed in the bathroom mirror.

“Hey! How have you been?” he called up from the very bottom.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin groaned. Jisung, who Hyunjin had tracked down two days prior to this, also did so.

“You said he was a charmer,” Jisung complained. “Look at him. He can’t even charm dogs with a treat.”

“For your sake, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Just wait though. It’s going to get better.”

Jisung huffed. “It better. She deserves the best.”

Fortunately, you took it all in stride and waved hello at Jeongin. When you were finally beside him, you answered, “I’ve been good, thanks. You’re not here to sue me, right?”

“No! I was actually wondering if you could teach me how to skateboard. If you have time, that is.”

“Really? But I almost killed you that one time. I mean, I’d be happy to, but it’s kind of weird after what happened.”

“I’d rather skateboard than walk, and you seem pretty good at it.”

You shifted your weight to one foot, and Hyunjin chuckled when he saw Jeongin’s eyes wander to your jutted-out hip. Jisung made a noise of disapproval.

“Okay, what is this really about?”

“Skateboarding,” Jeongin said. Then he took a step closer and held out a bundle of daisies towards you. “And lunch, if you want.”

You broke out into a grin. “I am a little hungry right now. L/N Y/N, skateboarding extraordinaire and ramen enthusiast, at your service.”

“Yang Jeongin, also a ramen enthusiast. Nice to officially meet you.”

Jeongin is still sleeping at his desk when Hyunjin arrives. He shifts and exhales when the wind from Hyunjin’s wings create a small breeze but does not wake.

“How could you break up with her?” Hyunjin says. “She’s amazing and wonderful, and you decide that you don't want to be with her? Sometimes I wonder what’s going on in your head.”

Silence.

“If I were human, I would have never done that, but…”

Jeongin shifts again, burying himself deeper into the crumpled hoodie he’s using as a pillow. The table squeaks, and a mechanical pencil rolls off the desk. Hyunjin quietly places the pencil back to its initial place and shuts off the lamp.

“Take care of yourself, and make good choices, okay? I can’t do that for you.”

Instead of flying back to Heaven, he perches on the roof of the building across from Jeongin’s. Jeongin finally wakes up and notices that his light is off. He glances at it confusedly for a few seconds, wondering if he misremembered leaving it on. In the end, he decides it’s not worth the effort and falls into his bed. He didn’t even spare you a thought, a crime in Hyunjin’s eyes.

Then he realizes he may have a bigger problem on his hands.

Jisung.

Jisung is going to be very upset when he finds out about this.

Over the weekend, you brought Jeongin to the quad to learn the basics.

“Put both feet on the board now,” you said as you walked alongside a skateboarding Jeongin. He was borrowing yours to practice, so he treated it with more reverence than a well-used board would need. Even though he was pushing with his back foot, he was going at a snail’s pace.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m going to lose my balance and fall.”

Perhaps it wasn’t reverence after all.

You shook your head. “No, you won’t. You’re not going that fast anyway. You can just step off if you really feel like you are. Give it a shot.”

To his credit, Jeongin lifted his foot a few centimeters off the ground before planting it back. “I’m going to lose control.”

While you did your best to persuade Jeongin to give it another try, Jisung gave Hyunjin a dissatisfied look. “I remember you telling me he was a daredevil. What is happening?”

He didn’t exactly know either. “He’s in front of his crush; give him a break.”

“These two better not end up dating. She deserves so much better than him.”

Hyunjin gave him a dirty look, Jisung gave him a “What? It’s true” type of a shrug.

You step in front of the board. “How about this?” you said. “You stand on the board with both feet, and I’ll pull you along so you can get used to the feeling and be less of a scaredy cat.”

“Okay.”

You took both of his hands and slowly guided him backwards. At the same time, you instructed him to put more weight on one side to change directions. Jeongin was surprisingly stable, and Hyunjin watched proudly as his human suggested that you increase your speed a little.

“See? It’s not bad?” you said. “Keeping balance isn’t that hard, right?”

“Yeah. Also,” he grinned, his meek demeanor completely gone, “we’re holding hands now.”

Your eyes widened as you glanced down at your joined hands, and you let out a delighted gasp. “You sneaky little—” Much to Jeongin’s alarm, you let go and smirked. “If you go past the bench without constantly pushing, I’ll let you hold my hand when you walk me home.”

“Kind of presumptuous of you to assume that I would offer to walk you home,” he teased, resting one foot on the floor. “Or is that what you want me to do?”

“You asked me to lunch with flowers. You were going to.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Then he kicked off, skating past the bench with ease. Still going, he looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Do you want to grab doughnuts before you head home?”

“Watch the lamp!” you yelled as you ran towards him. “Jeongin, stop looking at me and turn around!”

The collision with the lamppost was unavoidable, so Hyunjin simply watched as Jeongin took a flying leap off your board and took a tumble on the concrete. While you fumbled for band aids — Jeongin’s knee was scraped and bloody — Jeongin patted his pockets to check that his phone had not fallen out.

“So doughnuts?” he sheepishly asked.

“Sure. I’ll buy.” You finally found one hidden in the bottom of your backpack along with an alcohol wipe. “Guess you get to hold my hand after all.”

“How are you so prepared?” he asked, nodding to the contents you had unceremoniously dumped out whilst rummaging. “You have tweezers and gauze?”

“My mom made me carry a first-aid kit with me when she found out that I skate to class. It comes in handy.” You ripped open the package. “This might hurt.”

“You can kiss it to feel better.”

You laughed and pressed the alcohol wipe to his knee. “You’re such a flirt, I love it. Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, hurts a lot.”

You opted to kiss the band aid instead, causing Jeongin to pout and Jisung to sigh in relief. When you stuck it onto his skin, Jeongin made a big production of being relieved from pain, which made you laugh and shove him.

“No! She’s in love with him,” Jisung groaned. His wings drooped, and Hyunjin swore his halo actually dimmed when you kept your hands in Jeongin’s after you pulled him up. “Well, Hyunjin, looks like you and I are going to be best friends.”

Hyunjin personally saw no issue with that. Like Jeongin, he had been charmed by your antics and your easygoing nature. Protecting his human’s friends, family, or lovers wasn’t part of Hyunjin’s duty, but he felt compelled to watch over you too.

Because if he were human, he would have fallen in love with you too.

In the midst of his lamenting, Jisung flies down and sits beside him on the roof. His wings are still slightly gray, and Hyunjin strangely begins to feel self-conscious of his pure white ones.

“Didn’t the Archangel forbid you from doing frivolous things?” Jisung says in lieu of a greeting. “I saw you at her apartment earlier.”

“I just wanted to check up on her. Not that I thought you lied,” he hastily adds. “I wanted to see for myself. She’s a little… distraught.”

“She got into a fight with her boyfriend. It’s normal.” When Hyunjin doesn’t reply or even make a sound, he grows concerned. “Is it something else? She’s getting sued, isn’t she? I knew it was going to happen someday. When I find that smug richie-rich, I’m going to—”

“Jeongin broke up with her.”

“What.”

Hyunjin repeats his sentence, trying to block the view of Jeongin’s bedroom with his body. Jisung looks like he’s ready to rain judgement onto him, and while Hyunjin is rather good at his job, he’s not sure if he can hold back an enraged guardian angel. Jisung takes several deep breaths before regaining the little composure he can muster.

“I knew I hated him for a reason. I knew he didn’t deserve her,” he spits out, though the venom in his voice wavers. “Why would he even break up with her? She loved him so much.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “That’s what I want to find out.”

“When you find out, let me know. I’m going to see her now.”

Hyunjin stays on the roof until sunrise. Jeongin sleeps without any trouble, and when he wakes up, he looks fresh-faced, no guilt hanging over his head. Hyunjin feels something inside him cracking apart.

You truly don’t deserve this.

“Do you think they’re going to crash and burn?” Jisung asked as he studied you and Jeongin walking through the park, practically glued to each other’s sides. “I think they’re moving too fast. It’s only been a month.”

Hyunjin really didn’t care about that. As long as you and Jeongin were happy, he was happy. “A month is a pretty long time for them. Mortal lives are short.”

“Exactly. They should be more selective about their life choices.”

Hyunjin only rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to you. You were pointing at the tiny carousel in the middle and tugging at Jeongin’s sleeve. You dragged him over and pushed a coin into the slot for the ride. The lights lit up and a carnival theme played while you struggled to wedge yourself between the saddle of an elephant and the roof of the carousel. Jeongin sat on the edge, beside the tiger, and chuckled at your flailing limbs.

Hyunjin suppressed his own laugh. You were something special. Just last week, the two of you had made it official and started dating. You had done it in the sweetest possible way.

You had taken him to a local skateboarding shop to help him pick out his first board. Once he had chosen one — the ‘one’ being a light blue deck patterned with multicolored doughnuts — the staff at the shop sent him to the back to try it out. Meanwhile, you made the age-old excuse of needing to use the restroom when you were actually getting the flowers you had hidden in the back.

Hyunjin had turned into a pile of fluff when you gave Jeongin the daisy bouquet and asked if he wanted to officially be your boyfriend. You were so earnest. Jeongin playfully pretended to think it over, a feat Hyunjin knew he wouldn’t have been able to do if he were in his position. There were no fireworks or confetti when Jeongin finally said yes, but the staff did clap and cheer. Jisung looked on with contempt. Hyunjin looked on with envy.

“You know,” Jisung abruptly said, snapping Hyunjin back to the present, “when her last boyfriend broke up with her, she had ice cream for dinner for a week.”

“Oh.”

“You see why I’m being wary of him now?”

Hyunjin did, but Jeongin was different. His previous relationships always ended well, and on one occasion, he remained friends with his ex. He sighed and decided that a change of topic was necessary so he wouldn’t have to potentially endure a tirade. “Did you hear about Minho’s human? The bank he worked at got robbed, and he got held at gunpoint.”

That caught the overprotective Jisung’s ear. “What? Is he okay?”

During Hyunjin’s recountment of Minho’s recountment, the carousel ride ended. You squeezed out of your spot, hitting your head on the roof, and Jeongin pulled you in for a forehead kiss. The world grew brighter when you smiled, he realized.

Hyunjin shadows Jeongin around all day, hoping to learn the reason for the breakup. Unfortunately, Jeongin doesn’t say anything. He does show some regret though, as he scrolls through past messages and old pictures. When he heads to classes, he opts to walk instead of skateboarding like usual and avoids the quad whenever possible.

In the evening, while Jeongin is chewing on his salad like a cow to cud, Hyunjin pays you a visit. He finds in the freezer section of the grocery store with three pints of ice cream in your basket. From the looks of it, you’re about to add another three to your haul. Peanut butter pretzel sounds equal parts delicious and confusing.

Hyunjin studies your expression, frowning at the same time you do. Your eyes are ringed with red, your jaw tight, and your eyebrows seem permanently furrowed. When he follows you back home, he half expects you to start crying on the way, but you hold fast and manage to open a pint of the salted caramel flavor before the tears finally come. There’s no wailing, just sniffling and the sound of you furiously wiping at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. In the midst of it all, you find the strength to reorganize the freezer to make space for the other pints. Something about that makes Hyunjin’s heart drop.

By the time your roommate discovers you in the kitchen, the entire refrigerator has been reorganized and the ice cream finished. You sit in a dark room, your finger hovering above the ‘SEND’ button of a message to Jeongin. Hyunjin can see it if he flies above you: “Can you please just tell me why? You keep saying you did something wrong, but I don’t even know what it is. Please let me decide if it’s worth breaking up over.”

“Rough day?” she gently asks as she flips on the switch.

“Yeah.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Maybe tomorrow. I just wanna process it right now,” you hollowly say. You grab your skateboard — the same black, paint-splattered one you had last year — and unlock the front door. “I’m going out for a ride, but I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Stay safe.”

After you leave, Jisung phases through the kitchen walls and hisses at Hyunjin, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Jeongin?”

He nearly forgot about him. Eating dinner isn’t a dangerous task anyway though. Besides, if Jeongin does get physically harmed somehow, Hyunjin will feel an echo of the pain. Hyunjin glances at the door, and Jisung shakes his head.

“I’ll take care of her. Go back to Jeongin, and make sure he’s okay. You can’t keep leaving him all the time.”

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“Good.”

Hyunjin reluctantly goes back to Jeongin, who is still eating his salad. His resolve from last night is clearly gone as evidenced by his melancholy expression as he scrolls through even more photos. The one of you in mid-air makes him clutch his phone.

“Let me get one of you when you’re really high up,” Jeongin suggested. He was comfortable gliding around on a skateboard now, but nowhere comfortable enough to try any tricks. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop you from trying to get him to learn. The “pop shove it” was your favorite, solely for the amount of height you could get.

“Okay.”

As you did over and over again for your enthusiastic boyfriend who was unfortunately not that great of a photographer, Hyunjin observed from a rooftop behind Jeongin. Sometimes you looked like you were flying. He could imagine wings protruding from your back, and if the sun hit you just right, there appeared to be a halo as well.

“I got one!” Jeongin exclaimed as he held up his device to you. “Look.”

Hyunjin couldn’t see for himself, but your mouth dropped into an ‘o’ once you took a first glance. A flustered smile made its way onto your face, and everything about you turned soft.

“This looks amazing,” you said. You sidled up to him and rested your cheek against his shoulder, turning your head towards him. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air for a few seconds as both Hyunjin and Jeongin tried to process them. This was the first time you had ever said them, and it came seemingly out of nowhere. Hyunjin recovered first.

“Say ‘I love you’ back, you moron,” Hyunjin whispered, like Jeongin would be able to hear him from this distance. “‘I love you too.’”

“I wanted to say it first,” Jeongin finally said. “Ugh, I had it all planned out too. We were supposed to get doughnuts after this, and I was going to buy you one of those heart-shaped ones.”

You kissed him on the cheek and intertwined your fingers with his. “We can still do that.”

At the doughnut shop, he said the words second, and you kissed him again, leaving a crystal of glaze on the corner of his mouth. Hyunjin licked his lips as if you had left it on him instead.

“Did you find out?” Jisung asks when Hyunjin leaves Jeongin to check up on you. You’re skating around the city, making sharp swerves and weaving in-between lampposts. Jisung is trailing behind you in the sky, but he slows when he sees Hyunjin approaching.

“No, but—”

“Then go back to him. Hyunjin,” Jisung sighs, “I know you care about her, but she’s not your human. Jeongin’s your responsibility.”

“I know but—”

“Go back. And I’m telling you this not as your friend but as your senior. You’re a guardian angel, and you need to take your responsibilities seriously. I’ll get the Archangel involved if I have to. Do you want to get Seungminned?”

The threat of the Archangel strangely doesn’t scare him anymore, however. In fact, the Archangel being involved may solve many of his current issues.

“I’ll find you again when I find out,” Hyunjin slowly says.

Jisung nods in approval before racing after you again. Hyunjin heads to Heaven, not to keep an eye over his human but to become human.

Ten months into Jeongin’s relationship with you, Hyunjin asked Minho, “Is it possible to give up your divinity?”

Minho gave Hyunjin a curious look. “Is being a guardian angel that taxing for you? You haven’t even experienced a full lifespan yet. I know, twenty year-olds are annoying, but it’s not nearly as bad as forty year-olds and their mid-life crisis.”

“I’m just curious. Or, as a last resort,” he added, hoping that Minho would stop being suspicious if he joked about it. “My human’s been making some dumb choices.”

A lie, but Minho fell for it.

“I told you he was going to be a troublemaker!” he cackled. He sympathetically patted Hyunjin’s back. “If I’m being honest, I thought about it a few times. I always get assigned to the troublemakers. Probably because the higher-ups hate me for not tolerating their BS. They’re always playing favorites. Anyway, the easiest way is to get expelled by the Archangel. It’s happened a few times before.”

“Can’t you just ask him?”

Minho smirked. “You don’t think other angels have tried that? He only expels the ones who don’t want to be. It’s supposed to be a punishment.”

“What’s the hard way then?”

“Same thing minus the Archangel getting involved: your wings getting cut off,” he matter-of-factly answered. “The halo will break once your wings are detached. It’s only been done once, by the way.”

Hyunjin absentmindedly rubbed the area where the bones of his wings met with his shoulder blades. All he needed were two clean cuts across his practically impenetrable back.

“How do you do that?”

“With the Archangel’s sword. Another angel has to cut it though; you can’t do it yourself.”

The Archangel would likely banish him to Hell for even asking about his weapon. If Hyunjin ever did manage to steal the sword away, Jisung would never agree to it. He couldn’t just ask any angel to help him.

“How do you know about all this?” Hyunjin asked.

Minho hesitated, something he rarely did. He quickly recovered, hiding his sudden apprehension with his usual devil-may-care nonchalance. “I can’t give away all of my secrets.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Friends. The word hung in the air like the sun, and Hyunjin knew that Minho would tell him because underneath all of his bluster was loneliness. Because no one liked Minho, or if they did, they still avoided him anyway.

“Yeah, we are,” Minho answered, smiling for a second before a strange expression crossed over his face, pride mixed with a touch of sadness. “Do you really think the Archangel would have expelled one of his favorite guardian angels that easily?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Seungmin. He asked me to cut his wings for him.”  

“I need you to cut my wings,” are Hyunjin’s first words to Minho after not speaking to him for days.

To his credit, Minho is only speechless for a few seconds. The dove in his hand pecks at him for more headpats before he recovers. “Well, do you have the sword?”

“No, but I think I can get it. When I do though, would you do it? You’re the only one I trust.”

Minho sighs and tosses the bird out of Heaven, grimacing a bit when he hears it squawk. When he faces Hyunjin, he smiles the same smile he did when he talked about Seungmin. “It’s always me, huh? I’ll do you one better. I’ll steal the sword for you. The Archangel’s been pissing me off anyway.”

For once, Hyunjin’s thoughts are not on you but his friend. He imagined that Minho would be willing, but perhaps he’s too willing. “Are you trying to get expelled as well? We can go together.”

“No, I like being immortal. I hate all of the BS I get put through sometimes, but the Archangel can’t kick me out. He swore an oath to me a long time ago before he got promoted, and it’s pretty much unbreakable. Besides, even Heaven needs a scapegoat.”

That explains why virtually no angels interact with Minho, Hyunjin being the exception. He has never heard of the Archangel being oathsworn, though it seems likely that the Archangel wants to keep that a secret.

“How are you going to get it?” Hyunjin asks. “How did Seungmin even get it? The Archangel always has it with him.”

“Seungmin was one of his favorites,” Minho reminds him. “He had easy access to him, and the Archangel trusted him enough to let him borrow it for ‘a study.’ Don’t worry about me though. Just wait for me on Earth. Somewhere where no one goes. I’ll find you, slice off your wings, and the Archangel won’t even know what happened to you.”

“That’s not possible. He always keeps it on him.”

Minho shrugs, a gleam in his eyes. “I’ve done it before. Why do you think I’m the scapegoat?”

Seungmin. For Minho and now Hyunjin, being Seungminned didn’t mean being expelled for being frivolous anymore; it meant leaving of your own accord.

“What happened to him?” Hyunjin asked. “Why didn’t the Archangel grant his divinity back? Someone should have spotted him on Earth.”

Minho’s wry grin was back. “You think the Archangel wanted everyone to find out the golden boy of Heaven no longer wanted to be an angel? Plenty of angels already saw him roaming Earth. It was easier to let everyone think that Seungmin was banished. So when they saw him on Earth, he was just a fallen angel, nothing important.” He nudged Hyunjin’s arm, and the solemn atmosphere vanished. “A troublemaking human isn’t all that bad. Like I said, the twenties are annoying, but they’re manageable. Is he one of those partying types?”

“He goes out sometimes,” Hyunjin carefully replied. Jeongin liked hanging out with his friends and you — mostly you, now that Hyunjin thought about it — but he wasn’t getting blackout drunk every night. At least, Hyunjin hoped he wasn’t. He usually watched over you if you were ever in the vicinity. “Speaking of which, I should check up on him.”

Minho said his goodbyes, and Hyunjin flew back to Earth once he saw that you weren’t with Jeongin. You were studying at your desk, rolling a pen between your fingers, reading through a document on your laptop. The desk light casted a warm glow on your face. You frowned, and your lower lip swelled outwards.

He wished he were human.

Just as Minho said, Hyunjin waits for him to arrive in a secluded part of the university campus. The building rooftop is devoid of anyone, and the area surrounding it is empty as well. The evening turns into night, then night into the early morning when the sky begins lightening. Still, Minho has not come.

He distantly wonders how Jeongin is faring and his promise to Jisung. When he’s human, he’ll ask Jeongin directly, maybe in disguise of a survey: “Why did you break up with your last partner?” Even to him, it sounds stupid. However, that’s not the real reason why he’s giving up his divinity, so it hardly matters to him. Jisung is resourceful; he’ll find out eventually.

Finally, when the sun peeks over the horizon, Minho descends from Heaven, a familiar silver sword in his hand. He lands beside Hyunjin, a triumphant smile on his face. But his usual humor has been replaced with solemnity.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks as he rests the blade on the top of Hyunjin’s wings.

He has never felt so sure of anything in his life. “Yes.”

“It’s going to hurt.”

“Then make it quick.”

Searing pain shoots through his body as the sword pierces through the thin skin and into the bone. The process is not as nearly as seamless as Hyunjin hoped it would be, and Minho breathes heavily as he pushes the blade down. Bones snap, feathers drift to the floor, and blood trickles down his back. The pain only grows greater near the end, but Hyunjin grits his teeth and keeps quiet. Dawn breaks when his wings finally fall to the floor, no longer white but splattered with red. Soon they fade into dust, and the remnants scatter into the wind. His golden halo shatters into sunlight. The world dulls as the last of his powers disappear, but everything feels much better than when he was an angel.

“Thank you,” he whispers to Minho, who he cannot even look at anymore. His eyes would be burned.

“You’re fallen, not quite mortal and not quite divine. You won’t be affected by all of an angel’s power.”

When Hyunjin cautiously glances at him, Minho waves the bloody sword at him. “See?”

“Yeah.” He wanted humanity, but this is good enough for him. He just needs you to be able to see him, hear him, touch him.

“I need to go back before Heaven becomes Hell, but find Seungmin if you can. He can help you figure things out. Last I heard, he’s living somewhere in the mountains.”

“Thank you,” he repeats. “Minho, I can’t even put it into words about how much this means to me. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Minho pats his shoulder before stripping off his clean shirt. “Clean yourself before you leave. No one wants to witness a walking crime scene this early in the morning.”

When he flies back to Heaven, the last thing Hyunjin sees are his wings, still pure white.

“Hey,” you said as you laced your fingers with Jeongin’s. He had just finished class, and you had waited for him outside the building. Hyunjin had sat on the other end of the bench, savoring the proximity. That was the closest he would ever get to you. “Are you busy tonight? The skate shop just announced — literally an hour ago, those jerks — that they were doing a midnight drop, and I kind of want a new deck.”

“Ugh, I’ve been meaning to buy new trucks, but I have to meet up with my group tonight. Send me pictures though.”

Disappointment only momentarily flooded through Hyunjin. If it was anything like the last two meetups, it would be at the library, and the library was a safe place. Jeongin would be fine there. Hyunjin would be free to shadow you as you went to the skate shop.

“I can get it for you,” you offered.

He shook his head. “It’s fine. Maybe I’ll just wait for a sale.”

“Don’t be surprised if I do get you new trucks,” you warned. You let go of his hand and held his arm. “I still owe you for last month’s dinner.”

Jeongin shook his head again, a smile making its way onto his face. “You don’t owe me anything but a kiss.”

“Flirt,” you laughed as you pressed your lips to his cheek. “Never change, Yang Jeongin.”

That night at the skate shop, Hyunjin hovered above you as you stood in line, chatting with others. There were no unscrupulous characters around, but he stayed with you, only going back to Jeongin when Jisung insisted. However, by then, Hyunjin had already seen you eyeing the shiny teal trucks through the window. Hyunjin knew nothing about skateboards even after all those months, but you seemed pleased by them.

“You’re only getting trucks for sure?” your brand new acquaintance asked. “This is, like, the biggest drop they’ve ever done.”

You shrugged. “I’m kind of on the fence about the decks I saw on the email. I don’t know. Maybe wheels too?”

Meanwhile, Jisung hissed, “Hyunjin, go before something happens. What if a fight breaks out?”

Hyunjin sincerely doubted that one would happen at the library. He lingered around, taking his time unfolding his wings and stretching them.

“Your boyfriend’s lucky,” your acquaintance sighed.

“Nah, I’m the lucky one.”

Daisies, that’s what he needs right now. Choosing the rooftop of a building was not a smart decision, but the access door is thankfully unlocked, and Hyunjin races down all of the emergency stairs. However, with no form of currency on him, Hyunjin heads to the quad, hoping that he can pull up some dandelions for you. You need to be supported, and bright yellow flowers are just the thing.

What he doesn’t expect though, is to find you doing pop shove its at your usual spot. It’s so early in the day; did you even go back to your apartment to sleep?

“Good morning,” he calls as he walks closer. He waves at you, and you can see him! You tentatively wave back and give him a halfhearted smile. “How are you today? You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, and I’m fine,” you politely reply as you take a step back away from him. “What about you?”

Hyunjin curses in his head and takes another step towards you. “I’m good. Really good, actually. I was wondering if you could teach me how to skateboard. I’m new here, and skateboarding seems like an efficient way to get around.”

You flinch at his words, and he desperately wants to take them back. How did Jeongin do it? Why do his statements come out so stiff? “You seem pretty good at it.”

“Are you not cold?” you blurt out. Hyunjin curses again as he realizes that he’s shirtless. His old one was stained, and Minho’s was as well as the result of his cleanup. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. “You know, I have to get going, but it was nice meeting you.”

“Hyunjin. My name’s Hyunjin.”

“Nice meeting you, Hyunjin.”

You grab your board and immediately head off to the direction of your apartment. Hyunjin is tempted to follow, but he stays where he is. A bad first impression isn’t the end of the world. The only thing holding him back is his lack of a shirt.

He wanders through the quad, scanning the grass for some flowers. Most of them are the white, fluffy dandelions, but he needs the bright yellow version. However, he takes the white ones anyway in case he can’t find any. The wind scatters the seeds, and he—  

“Hyunjin, I told you not to come back.”

Jisung.

Hyunjin turns around, dropping his bouquet onto the ground. To his horror, not only is Jisung present but also the Archangel. His sword is strapped to his side like usual, not a blood splatter tainting it. Minho did an excellent job of cleaning up the crime scene.

“Jisung, Archangel,” Hyunjin nervously greets. The Archangel frightens him now. “How can I help you?”

“Jisung, why did you bring me here?” the Archangel asks. “I have other things to attend to.”

“He’s abandoned his human too many times, and I don’t think he’s fit to be a guardian angel anymore.”

The Archangel grasps the hilt of his sword and studies Hyunjin, up and down, back and forth. He circles him, and Hyunjin can almost feel his mortality-divinity shining through his body. Jisung hasn’t noticed yet, but there is no doubt the Archangel hasn’t.

“Normally,” the Archangel begins, “the punishment for not fulfilling your duties as a guardian angel is being expelled from Heaven. But you have already fallen.”

“What?” comes Jisung’s shocked voice.

“It was a mistake,” Hyunjin tries. Minho’s words ring in his ear: He only expels the ones who don’t want to be. “I thought I wanted humanity, but I’ve realized that being a guardian angel is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please. Grant me my divinity back. I will never abandon my human again. I will swear an oath if I have to.”

The Archangel smiles with no teeth, and a chill runs down Hyunjin’s spine. “I’m in a forgiving mood today, so I will do just as you ask. Your divinity will be granted back, but you will no longer be a guardian angel. I’m stripping you of those powers and those duties. You will be replaced immediately. It was my mistake for tasking you with such a large responsibility when you weren’t ready yet.”

With just a snap of the Archangel’s fingers, Hyunjin’s senses sharpen, and the world comes hurtling at him. Nothing is dull anymore, but everything feels so dark and wrong. You will never be able to see him, hear him, or talk to him again. And he will never be able to either. Power surges inside of him, and new wings burst through his shoulder blades, fanning out once they reappear. A silver halo hangs over his head. There is no physical pain into becoming immortal again, yet he wishes there was something. Everything he and Minho did was erased with ease.

Hyunjin swallows the lump in his throat. “Thank you,” he chokes out.

“You’re very welcome. Come along now. Only guardian angels are allowed to be on Earth.”

Hyunjin follows the Archangel back to Heaven while Jisung goes after you. The Archangel loudly deliberates on who he should be replaced with, and Hyunjin knows that his request was not granted with kindness. The Archangel informs that he will be a messenger again. Hyunjin barely hears him as he takes one last look at Earth. Jeongin is there. Jisung is there. You are there.

Hyunjin avoids Minho’s eyes as he flies inside the realm behind the Archangel and hides among the rest of the regular angels until he is called to send a message. The higher-ups recognize him, make snide remarks about his demotion, and make pitiful faces at him. He barely registers them. There is a hollowness in him, and no matter how many memories he recalls, it isn’t enough to fill the void.

A few weeks later, Jisung approaches him, but even he stays a healthy distance away. “Hyunjin.” The disdain is clear.

“Jisung.”

“You knew about the reason all along, didn’t you? You were there when it happened.”

“When what happened?”

Realization dawns upon Jisung, and he shakes his head in disgust. “I should have known. You weren’t with him that night because you left him like you always did! You could have done something. Make him fall off his chair or something. Make the girl lose her balance. Instead, both of our humans suffered because you weren’t there.”

“What happened?”

“A girl from his group project randomly kissed him, and he thought he had been leading her on and cheating on his own girlfriend, so he broke up with her because he thought that would be the right thing to do instead of just telling her what actually happened. They’re back together now because he finally got the nerve to give her closure. It took nearly a month. They were miserable for a month. All because of you.”

It stings. “They’re okay now, right?”

“They’re fine, no thanks to you.” Just when Hyunjin thinks he’s going to leave, he takes a step forward, lips curled into sneer. “You know, angels and humans aren’t allowed to be with each other. It’s been forbidden for millenia.”

“I know,” he whispers. “But I loved her, and I had to try.”

“She would have never chosen you anyway.”

He never had a chance, did he?

~ ad.gray

Yes, you did! I remembered it and wondered if you were going to come back! Hope you enjoyed this! <3

[evilzoldyck]

Fiancée II

part I

The floral scent hanging in the humid air had become particularly nauseating, the mixed flower petals that complemented the oils poured into the bathwater had all sank before you while the water itself had turned lukewarm.

Looking down at your fingers, you noticed that your fingertips had pruned horrendously. Normally you wouldn’t take much of your time disengaging with reality but recently, there was something in your mind you couldn’t quite comprehend. Just a few hours ago you were subjected to your mother-in-law’s favourite pastime which was holding a tea ceremony by the garden. Except it had a special twist, for every crucial detail that you missed, a melting hot iron would be pressed against the palm of your hands.

You didn’t miss the slight turn on the corner of her lips, her hidden smile behind the paper fan every time the torched metal would melt onto your skin, reminding you that will never be worthy enough to be accepted by her. And for every time your skin healed, your scars disappeared, your blood stopped seeping from your skin, she will be the one to make sure to replace them. Asserting her position and making sure you knew who the true matriarch of the family is.

Living with in-laws was a truly dreadful ordeal.

However when a butler with hard lines etched onto his face interrupted the unfortunate event, his sunken eyes that held the deepest sympathies only gazed at yours. He came forward with an ill-bearing news of your mother’s recent passing.

You knew this day would come, but you hadn’t anticipated it to come so soon. Though you had the resources to finance her health with the best doctor money can buy, you knew there was nothing you could offer death for an ailment so monstrous. The more times that you visited her in the hospital, the more and more different she looked. 

You almost didn’t recognise her. She looked like a corpse, barely breathing through her tube encasing her mouth, her hair you used to comb religiously every night was mostly gone. You knew that she was barely alive.

The only times that you were allowed to visit her was once every full moon as the rest of your days were filled with torturous training all for the sake of building your strength. You were barely considered family to them and so your own Mother visiting you at the Zoldyck estate was unimaginable. Sometimes in the darkest hour of the night you could almost hear her hoarse whispers, blindly pleading repeatedly to the nurses for you, why her daughter was nowhere to be found.

She fought for your next visit, begging at death’s door to see you one last time but alas, death was cruelly fair and her time was rightfully due. And so the feeling when you completely missed her burial, when you were refused a visit to her grave to pay your respects, when you were forbidden to grieve for it was a sign of weakness. The feeling of such accumulated events…

What was it you were supposed to feel?

You knew your heart nor mind could never be so numb, you weren’t anything like the Zoldycks at all, so detached to even a sliver of morality and compassion. So then why didn’t the news of her death send you to your knees? Why couldn’t you feel anything? Could it be a temporary shock- perhaps that’s why your cheeks were dry.

Just when you were lost in your thoughts with a tight frown pursed upon your lips, your personal handmaiden politely intruded herself inside the bathroom, announcing the arrival of master Illumi from his recent mission abroad. You lifted your head from your trance as her soft voice ricocheted off the black marbled walls, a gentle reminder to you of exactly where you were before your mind took you someplace else.

Upon seeing her, she was diligently prepped with her arms open wide, holding your robe before you.

The strange family had rightfully encroached all rights that you previously held, your freedom, your dignity, pride, and even your last name; privacy was the least of your concern. Rising from the cold waters, you allowed her to tie the warm fabric around you. She was always so meticulous and gentle, as if the slightest movement of her gestures or the flicker of her gaze could potentially be taken as an affront.

There were ample times that you searched for at least some kind of warmth in this forlorn and dreary estate, some kind of companion to show a little humanity and compassion with. You should’ve known that pursuing friendship on this mountain was pointless. The myriad of maids and butlers that they have at their disposable offered no comfort to your despair as they were always sickeningly polite but never friendly, leaving a gaping hole in your chest to fend this loneliness for yourself.

At the threshold of the gargantuan door, Illumi stood impassively while one of the butlers of the estate came to lighten his load. He had come back rather early from his departure, the extensive tasks assigned to him was nothing he hadn’t done before and yet with so many undertakings he was obligated to finish he had forgone rest when it was deemed necessary, opting to continue on to the next job effective immediately. Perhaps it was his habit of having a tireless and dedicated focus during a mission or maybe it was just his overzealousness to see you again.

“Welcome back, master Illumi. I trust that you found our services to be adequate on your journey back.” Gotoh pleasantly bade a congenial welcome as he gracefully placed his right hand across his chest and bowed his head slightly before the eldest of Zoldyck’s son.

He simply hummed in reply not sparing another glance at the man for Illumi’s vacant stare was occupied, searching the premises based on his peripheral vision for any sign of you awaiting him without fail like you do every time he arrived back from his assignments. “And my wife?” he curtly inquired after seeing no sign of you.

Descending from the stairs, you face your personal demon with a pathetic palpitating heart. The robe that you adorned did little to cover the coldness of his gaze for the room froze every time he was near. Nevertheless a stretch of a satisfying smile formed across his lips as you made your way towards his arms. 

Embracing him always felt like the first time, your shoulders tensed every time his elongated thin fingers squeezed your sides as he enveloped you in a mockingly sweet embrace. If it bothered him, Illumi never spoke of it. The locks of his midnight hair brushed against your face as you placed a quivering kiss upon his cheek, uttering a small greeting for him. 

Just like clockwork he began to led you away from the foyer and into your shared quarters with his lithe hand burrowing itself into your waist. 

Though it felt like years had passed once your fate was intertwined with his, you could never get used to his presence. This saccharine coated reality could never delude you to construe this as something more meaningful than a means of escape from your financial poverty and his obligation on fulfilling his filial piety. The carefully rehearsed charade always played out the same where in the end of the night you would find yourself in a familiar predicament. 

Inside the cimmerian chamber dim flickering candle lights illuminated the tenebrous darkness around you. The satin beneath your naked skin easily shifted as Illumi handled you attentively from above. As he moved to discard of his clothes your eyes absentmindedly wandered to the same spot on the ceiling that you’ve gazed upon countless of times. However once you heard the gentle rustle of his garments join yours into the floor, your attempt to seperate your mind from your body ended in vain. 

Illumi hovered above you leaving a scant space between your lips. You wished you knew why he searched for your eyes every time he began to kiss you, taking a pensive moment for you to finally look at him, to be the centre of your attention. You didn’t know why he bothered taking his time with you for every night you spent with him you had only demonstrated compliance and obedience. Prolonging such affair was only counterproductive. 

You felt him dragging his nails softly into your skin as he brought his hands up slowly from your thighs to your neck, grasping the rhythmically beating point and finally placing a soft kiss. 

Closing your eyes you unconsciously balled the sheets beneath you with your fists. The kiss was timid and placid on your lips as his hair fell and entangle with the pool of your own. Illumi finally released after a few languishing moments and began to trace wistful kisses along your neck. 

You knew better as to why an apathetic assassin that left a trail of crimson behind him for equity would give you the time of day to leave obsequious pecks. 

Illumi was a man of pure objectivity, each action he took had an ulterior motive behind it for no lift of his finger went by without it having some kind of incentive for him in the end. And so his adoring kisses and unctuous attention did little to move your amoral perception of him. 

He only indulged in such idle debauchary for he believed it was what you enjoyed, hence allowing the intercourse to go smoothly and successfully with the benefit of your arousal. Illumi was especially persistent in his countless endeavours in carrying out his bloodline with you. The details surrounding the child were kept quite vague and undisclosed, the only emphasis now was centred around the health and condition of your mental and physical state. 

Perhaps that’s why Illumi always handled you selflessly, as if he missed you terribly every time he went away for his delegated tasks. His efforts to please you easily began to grow more apparent, especially under an auspicious moon. 

Suddenly his hand encapsulated your small shivering ones, making your breath hitch just slightly as he rose up to meet you once more. “You’re still shaking, what’s the matter?” 

Were you? You hadn’t noticed the state of your body for your mind was running wild with endless thoughts. Sensing the tension in the air you quickly placated his growing trepidation with a weak smile. “Forgive me, tonight is just particularly cold today, perhaps I’ve left the window open again.” Avoiding his ruminating gaze Illumi released a ghost of a sigh before nodding, indicating that he took your word for it despite you knowing deep down that he did not. 

“Shall we go by the fireplace?” He suggested innocuously. 

You, however, couldn’t prevent the heat from rising up to your face as you couldn’t even begin to fathom engaging in such activity beside a roaring fire. Not only that but you would be rid of the protective barrier of your sheets and most of all, the wavering waves of red would cast a glow onto his face, forcing you to glance up upon him and seeing more of what you’re already comfortable with. 

A prude is the word most women back in your town would describe you as, however you would staunchly argue to such claims when the eyes of death has its attention solely on you. 

“No,” you gripped onto his hands. “Here is just fine.” 

Illumi gathered you into his arms, pulling you upwards along with him as he pressed more kisses against your lips and slowly trailed them down to your chest. You hesitantly wrapped your hands around his shoulders, careful not to tip the centre of balance he had on you as you nearly straddled his lap. 

“Very well,” he murmured before flipping you back on the bed and making you land onto your front swiftly. “Then I shall hold you instead.” 

Encapsulating you wholly with your back pressed against his chest, he held onto your chest tightly against him with one arm as the other gripped your hips firmly, raising it up to meet his. His head burrowed itself into the crook of your neck to leave more discoloured marks, and just in time as you felt the stretch commence. 

You were nowa Zoldyck, as you often reminded yourself, nothing could contain you not even pain, not even death, not even love. 

Roughly a year had passed and the same moonlight shined through the darkness upon the mountain peak once again. The Zoldyck estate was in turmoil. Nurses ran frantically from across the halls carrying fresh pristine white towels only to have them drenched in blood in the next second. 

You knew what you signed up for the moment you stood before theTesting Gate, it was just simply your time to fulfil your end of the bargain.

The journey of your pregnancy was a stark contrast to the treatment you had been subjected to in your time here. Instead of poison laced meals to the verge of hospitalisation and endless hours of enhancing your strength endurance, you were finally given some form of a break. 

Those little mercies such as extra hours of sleep, the vitamins and protein back in your system and the permission to acquire rest when you needed it were like heaven to you. 

Your health along with your baby’s progress was greatly monitored, not a day goes by that your daily intensive checkup went by carelessly. 

Everyday you gazed down in front of the mirror and saw yourself grow progressively. The size of your belly began to expand with each passing time that came closer to the due date. Though despite the baby being attached to your very self you couldn’t feel a sense of attachment to it, the very kind your mother had for you. 

And so when you first heard him cry from your extraneous labour, you were stricken by a sudden powerful force. Months of him stirring inside you and it took you this long to realise the being inside you was alive. 

The obstetrician and the nurses all cheered and cooed at the successful delivery of your newborn baby, making excessive notes of how handsome he was. Their faces damped with their efforts to ensure the health of the mother and the baby was maintained paid off for the delivery was a success. 

The burden finally left their shoulders as one should feel when it was a Zoldyck’s turn to employ and entrust an imperative job such as this. 

Once the umbilical cord was cut, you were able look upon his face. Blood stained your hands and cheek as you held him close to your chest, his tiny hand already reaching out for your face, finally tempering his cries into charming babbling nonsense when he sensed that you were near. Everything about him reminded you of Illumi, his midnight hair that was twisted in tiny wisps, his complexion, his small but sharp features upon his face.

But those eyes, they were yours. 

The warmth of such gaze possessed you to crumble down before your son for it wasn’t until his arrival that your humanity was finally restored. Emotions flooded your senses to the point that you thought you couldn’t feel anything else but harrowing pain and guilt. Your separation from your only family, society, your own mother’s death, the excruciating pain that was inflicted upon you- you’ve felt it all. 

The mental fortitudes that you’ve built up over the accumulating years all came crashing down when you looked upon a face so innocent and pure. Something that was truly incapable of harnessing any  bloodshed as per the family designed of his future.

And after all this time you were carrying him like a pig to slaughter. Partaking in this corrupt pseudo-experiment to create the cold and hard perfect monster, subservient to the wills and orders of the family.

Just like his father. 

Suddenly, one of the nurses took him away from your embrace consequently making you panic at the thought of your son being alone without you. The feeling that compelled you to care for another was one that felt so familiar and yet so foreign, plucking an untouched chord in your heartstring that you’ve forgotten a long time ago. 

All your life you were living for someone else; when you lost your mother you were at a loss for your purpose was amiss, living as an empty hollow shell of a human being. Now that the birth of your child had come, an epiphany struck you like a blinding flash of lightening. 

He was your new profound purpose.

“Where are you taking him?” You gasped out, already reaching out towards the nurse who held him around a blanket. She briefly replied that she would be taking his measurements but her words of comfort fell on deaf ears for it did nothing to placate the fact that you were separated from your baby. 

“No, no- please! Give him back to me!” Now you were crawling across the maroon soaked sheets, wincing at the fact that you were still bleeding but still keeping a staunch arm out in front of you. 

Your frantic actions forced the nurses nearby to restrain you, holding you back onto the bed while urging advices to calm down. However their grip upon you nearly fell for you could see nothing but red in your eyes, there was no amount of force in this world that could withhold you from being without him. Your beseeches and tenacious struggle quickly came to a halt when you felt a sudden jolt of pain from your side. 

Looking down with your tear stricken face you saw that you were haphazardly injected with a strange transparent liquid to sedate you. Usually you could easily persevere over simple liquid anaesthetics that could even wipe out an entire five adult men but this dose was a new thing entirely, you’ve never been exposed to such a heavy medication that edged on it being lethal before.

However you knew that the fate of your son would be compromised if you stayed, if you didn’t fought for him. 

Consequently, the only necessary action you needed to take was to escape. Gathering your bearings from the Jenny that you’ve rightfully championed two summers ago, you’ve decided that the amount would guarantee him and you a stable future. 

That is why after two moons have passed when you’ve conjured enough strength to gather yourself from your deep sleep, right before Illumi was scheduled to come back to witness the scion of the house of Zoldyck, that you would take off when the moon was at its peak. 

There was no leaving it up to chance for there was no telling when you would see you son again. There was much conviction in your assumption that Illumi would haste his training program to become an elite assassin, just as the family intended from the start. 

The Zoldycks were unrivalled in their system of securing their property. A fortress that the brave or the foolish dared to try to penetrate, though their attempts would always end up in vain; along with bruises and a few broken bones if they were smart enough to retreat soon. However, they weren’t quite as adept at keeping someone in than they were at keeping everyone out. 

Glancing back the faint sight of the distant mountain on the horizon, you slowed your pace as you decided you’ve made satisfactory progress in distance. Looking around perilously and tuning your ears to the sound of even the faintest landing of the leaves in the autumn breeze, you relievedly deduced that you weren’t followed- well at least not yet.

Releasing small huffs from your over exertion of energy, you gazed down fondly  at the sight of your son bundled up in a large cloth in which you tied tightly onto your back. You relievedly let out a soft smile when you found out he was still sleeping soundly, gripping onto some of your loose hairs unconsciously. Setting him down inside a hollow tree you figured you could take a few minutes to decipher where True North lied. 

However, a sudden change in the atmosphere made your blood freeze. Staring out into the darkness, you fixed your sights in the direction of the energy with your fists clenched in anticipation. 

You felt him before you even saw him. Your heart dropped when you sensed whose aura emitted belonged to. 

Illumi came out of darkness with an air of calmness surrounding him. This sense of composure completely shifted yours, you knew he could easily overpower you for his nen abilities reigned supreme over yours, nonetheless you couldn’t allow a fight for freedom to go unchallenged, not when you were so close to the finish line. 

His ambiguity costed you valuable time to quickly devise a plan. Should you fight or should you flee? There was no telling he would kill you and steal your son away if you opposed him and yet given his nature, Illumi was quite capable of putting up a façade to front his murderous intent. 

When he came too close for comfort, you realised you could never outrun him with this distance, thus you had to strike before he could. Unsheathing a small dagger that you carried just in case you ran into some trouble, you cursed at yourself for carrying a short range weapon. 

Nevertheless you missed his shoulder by just the width of a hair. Illumi’s speed, though something to be marvelled at, was the only aspect that you worried most about. 

As if in slow motion you fell forwards and from the corner of your eyes, you saw him shift easily from your reach. Illumi began to extend his arm out to impede your efforts, however you caught sight of his advances and immediate retreated back. 

He blinked in mild surprise before exhaling a jaded sigh. “Fighting me is futile, you know very well that you cannot defy me in battle.” He stated matter-of-factly. “This victory brings me no satisfaction.” 

“Bring the child forth and end this foolishness now.”

“You monster,” you spat out the words like venom. “You’ll kill him.” 

Lashing out in anger you attempted another strike but narrowly missed again. Gritting your teeth in frustration you were so blinded by hatred that you failed to notice his hand reaching from your blind spot to restrain your dagger. 

Wrapping his long lithe fingers around your wrist Illumi gave a warning squeeze, enough to make a grown man fall to his knees. When you refused to yield, he gripped it into a blood cutting bind until you heard your bones shift and crack. You gasped out once your hold slackened as the dagger fell into the soft green grass below.

“No, I’ll make him stronger.” Illumi confidently promised. He just broke your wrist but oddly still, you couldn’t sense any intention of harm from him as you presumed. 

Your body went rigid when he uttered your name softly, pulling your weight into him almost comfortingly. “We’re still a family,” he spoke so lowly you thought you heard a sense of betrayal and hurt from his words. “I know it’s hard, but we only have each other.”

This imitation of kindness pulled you back into reality before you could cry into his chest and take you back to the mountain. Jerking from his touch disgustedly you began to prepare to lunge at him despite your broken hand. 

“You know very well that I will pursue you even to the ends of the earth.” 

You lurch out in a punch at his direction but Illumi hastily blocked your attacks. Dodging your strikes he only ever defends, hardly even trying to challenge you. An approach that was more pacifist as opposed to practical.

“I’ll stop at nothing to bring you both home, there is nothing you can protect him from. The boy will watch many deaths before him. He will know the true meaning of threats and violence, they will fall under mine. He will never know peace.” 

You almost cried when you heard him spoke of your son’s future in a manner that was so casually cruel. Forcing yourself to block his torturous lies and vitriolic taunts, you eyed for your weapon inconspicuously. 

Catching a glint from the blade of the dagger in the tall grass, you reached out to briskly seize it. Before you could even get close, Illumi kicked it swiftly to the point where it was no longer visible to you. Looking up at him with a gaze gaunt with pain and humiliation as he said your name once more.

“Listen to reason.”

In a fit of rage you blindly fought him with your moves only consisting of attacks and albeit not very coordinated for you could barely even see your hands in front of you. You could sense that Illumi willingly took some of your punches as he winced a little when one of your attacks coincidentally targeted his weak points. 

You hadn’t realised you were crying until he balanced you upright just as when you stumbled forwards due to your eyes stinging with blurry vision. Why had you expressed yourself at your weakest point in the midst of a fight? Were you really this weak? After such gruelling years of training did they amount to nothing when you couldn’t even compare to the man you willed yourself away to? 

You already lost before you even began. 

Locking a grip around his neck you managed to successfully pinned him to the ground floor. His eyes blankly looked up at your dishevelled state raw with pure emotions in contrast to his cool and composed self. It took you this long to register that he wasn’t fighting for your submission but for your sake. 

Illumi easily reverted to being the dominant position when he was about to receive a lethal strike from you. Pining both of your hands to the ground as he restrained your legs with his knees.

Illumi studied your trembling form underneath him, appearing like a feral cat caught in a cage, ready to lash out from any sudden actions even one out of kindness. 

“What can I do to get you to stay?” He persuaded exasperatedly, as if he was tired of you looking at him like he’s the enemy. Meanwhile, you glared at the ludicrous question. 

“I want a normal life for him. I want him to see the world, I want him to go to school, to make friends.” Your throat tightened when you brought him up. Proposing your wishes in vain knowing truly he could never fulfil what you desired. “You’ll have to kill me first before you could ever get to him.” 

“An unnecessary sacrifice.” He quickly corrected, as if such a thought had never crossed his mind.”How could I endanger the one I love most?” 

Your face twisted in detest at his hypocrisy. “What do you know about love?”

Illumi merely blinked at your question, in which the answer was one that he thought was already apparent 

“I love you.” 

And yet a thousand needles could never the change the way you feel for him. You only saw darkness within Illumi, death was the only thing drilled into his mind for his purpose was designed only for murder. 

But then why couldn’t you see any deception in his eyes? Why did he possess such sincerity when he declared his feelings for you. In the midst of constant exposure to inhumanity was it truly possible for hope and love to endure for Illumi?

At the cold realm on top of the mountain you have gazed at numerous celestial wonders of the universe, but none could compare to what you saw in his gaze. You recognised the fragments of humanity inside him and it was far more powerful than anything that you had ever witnessed before. 

To have seen compassion for another being in a state of infinite chaos, Illumi was truly a wonder.

“We can have that, you know,” Illumi gently said. “A house for our own far away from here, school, friends, whatever you want.” 

“But... not for him?” Your breath stopped when he nodded slowly, sympathising your disappointment at your speculation. 

“His siblings may lead the normal life you intended for them, but it’s critical that the eldest Zoldyck carry on the family’s name and status.” 

Like an echo through history, you really can’t stop the Zoldycks’ legacy. Nevertheless, the question still rang in your head alarmingly.

Could you do it? 

Doom your firstborn to save the others? 

After what you’ve been through was it the only logical choice?

“You can’t hurt him.”

Alas, the only natural rational course of action was to naturally comply. Illumi graced a genuine smile as he closed the distance between you and sealed the deal with a chaste kiss. 

“Never.” 

[animerina]

Wine for Freedom-15

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22)

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Thranduil x F!Reader

Summary: The Reader is left with nothing but three bottles of wine after Smaug destroys Laketown and somehow becomes Thranduil’s new brewmaster.

Note: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. This started as a one shot and ended up as a full story. You can read the rest on A03.

All Italics are Elvish.

Chapter 15: The Greatest Gift

It was a marvel at just how fast the King’s healers could be assembled. They already had Y/N laid out on her bed and were swiftly brewing some concoction as well as trying to keep Thranduil calm. They’d been through this once and miraculously she’d pulled through, but they needed to determine the underlying cause of this illness. A knock on the door startled the king who demanded to know who it was.

Bard entered worried about the sudden exit Thranduil and Y/N had made. He froze seeing the woman laid out. She was breathing but was clearly unconscious. He approached Thranduil, but stopped when he audibly growled.

“Your people are worried, my king. What has happened?”

“She is ill,” Thranduil grumbled out in frustration. He felt so powerless unable to do anything to stop this. Why her? Why did she suffer so?

“Will she be-,” Bard began but was interrupted by Thranduil.

“No one seems to know.”

“You should calm your people. I will stay until you return.”

“I will not leave her,” Thranduil argued.

“There is unrest, my king!” Bard pressed. “It would only be for a moment. If anything changes, I will send for you.”

Though he was reluctant to leave, Thranduil knew Bard was right and left to address the guests. Bard took a seat next to Y/N wondering just what had happened. She had mentioned this illness before, but according to the healers, this was different than the last time. Bard, momentarily forgetting this was Thranduil’s queen and not just his friend, felt her forehead and was thankful she was not feverish. The healers eyed him, but said nothing.

———

Everything was blurry when I opened my eyes and I blinked several times to clear my vision. I heard people around me but my eyes locked onto Bard’s above me.

“What happened?” I groaned out. My head was pounding and I felt slightly nauseous as I tried sitting up. Bard’s arms steadied me as I settled in the bed. The physical contact made the healers around us freeze momentarily, but they quickly went back to what they were doing.

“You fainted,” he explained.

“How long have I been asleep?” I asked worriedly.

“Nearly a half hour, I’d say.”

“Oh,” I said surprised. “Do they know what is wrong with me?”

One of the healers approached us, but as he got closer, I got more nauseous and had to cover my mouth, swallowing bile down. I groaned and lay back against the pillows. The elf smiled sheepishly at me before handing me a steaming cup.

“Drink this, Tarí nin. You will feel much better,” he said. The elf hesitantly faced Bard and bowed to him.

“King Bard, I must respectfully ask you to step outside for a moment. I must speak to the Queen in private.”

Bard looked like he wanted to argue but thought better of it and stood to leave.

“If you need anything, I will be outside. I will send for King Thranduil.”

The healer nodded in thanks before facing me again.

“May I speak freely, Tarí nin?” He asked.

Nodding I motioned for him to continue anxious for him to tell me what was wrong.

“This is not the same illness that previously plagued you, Tarí nin. In fact, this is no illness at all. I give you and King Thranduil my congratulations. You are with child.”

I nearly dropped the cup I was sipping from at his words. It made sense, but it was impossible for it to happen so quickly. We’d only been married for a short while and I would have noticed, wouldn’t I? Little details came to me and I realized I wasn’t getting sick, I was pregnant.

“Tarí nin?” The healer asked worriedly. “Are you alright?”

“I need Thranduil,” I managed to utter.

“Of course. He will be here shortly,” he bowed and left the room. I couldn’t place the look on his face, but I felt he was judging me somehow.

Nervously, I kept drinking the bitter drink they had given me. It did seem to help calm myself and I no longer felt the urge to vomit. Part of me was excited. I’d never really thought of having a family before I came here, but the thought was nice. I liked children and this one would be mine to love and care for. However, I worried about the future. How long would I live to see them grow? Would they be accepted? My mind kept thinking of Thranduil’s son, Legolas. Surely he wouldn’t be fine with this, would he? I hadn’t even met him yet, and now I was having his sibling. I wanted to cry at the mix of emotions I felt, but instead just kept sipping away. How would Thranduil even feel about this, I wondered.

Just as I thought of him, he rushed in through the doors, robes billowing around him. He looked relieved to see me awake, but his resolve broke when he saw the worried look on my face.

“What is it?” He demanded, fear evident in his tone.

“I think you should sit for this, love.”

“Are you-,” his voice cracked and he couldn’t manage to finish his question.

In a rush to relieve him, I hurriedly answered his unfinished question. “I am with child,” I managed to say.

He blinked several times before a smile broke out on his face. He sat down on the bed and pulled me into his arms, stroking my hair lovingly. A kiss was laid against my temple as we lay together.

“Are you happy, meleth?” His voice was soft as he asked.

“In a bit of shock, but I want this. I want to have this baby with you,” I admitted. My hand fell to my stomach and Thranduil settled his there as well. It was amazing just how calm the king made me feel especially when I was torn about something. I dared not bring up Legolas for now, but I knew everything would be fine as long as I had Thranduil.

“Won’t this ruin things up with the coronation in Spring? I’ll be showing by then.”

“We are already married. It matters little.” He stroked the material over my stomach.

“Did I cause a commotion?” I asked worried about the festival.

“It is managed,” he continued. “Worry not, Y/N.”

“We should get back,” I whispered against his lips.

“No, I do not think so,” he replied before kissing me. “We should bathe.”

I hummed and let him roll the two of us over so that I was laying across his chest. His hands drifted down and slowly pulled the skirt of the dress up.

“Perhaps we should get dirty before bathing,” I suggested.

“Oh melda, is that really what you want?” He groaned out as he rocked his hips. “We should be careful.”

“We will be,” I hissed as his hands found my skin.

“I shall have to be gentle with you,” Thranduil said hotly against my skin and it made me shiver.

I pushed myself up so that I was straddling him, my hands pulling at the fastenings on his chest. “Ge melin.”

“Ge melin, Y/N.”

———

When I woke, it was morning and I was tangled in Thranduil’s arms, his hand cupping my stomach. I wondered how long it would be until I started showing. Thranduil was already awake and looked like he had been for a while.

“Did you decide to forgo your duties?”

“Only for the moment, my darling. I am simply enjoying the morning with my wife and my child. Am I allowed that pleasure?”

“Always,” I laughed.

He pulled me closer for a kiss before sitting up. “But I regretfully must leave you,” he sighed. “I shall see you this evening.”

“A busy day?”

“When is it not,” he grumbled tiredly as he got up.

———

I saw Bard upon entering the sitting room where breakfast was being served. I smiled and padded over to greet him, taking my seat next to him. Just as I was about to speak, he froze in his movements before a smile broke out on his face.

“I know that look,” he said.

“What look?” I questioned.

“The look you have now. That’s the look my wife,” he caught his breath and audibly swallowed before managing to continue. “That’s the look she had when she would tell me she was carrying.”

My eyes watered at his admission and I reached for his hands, a smile also growing on my face. I nodded hurriedly to confirm his suspicion.

“My congratulations to you both. Is this why you were ill?”

“It appears so. I thought I was coming down with something, but it turns out-well, you know,” I giggled out. “I was nervous, but I feel better now.”

“King Thranduil is happy, I assume?”

“Oh very,” I confirmed. “I think he was more excited than I was.”

“You will make a wonderful mother. Who else knows?”

“Just you and the healers, but I do plan on telling everyone before an announcement is made,” I said. Though I was excited to tell my friends, it seemed I couldn’t find anyone this morning. Calanthe was missing this morning, though I assumed she was wherever Elros was. My guards had been dismissed since I wasn’t leaving the main wing, and Galion had not fetched Thranduil this morning. Everything seemed a bit off, but I attributed it to the festivities last night.

“When are you heading back, Bard?”

“Tomorrow morning, unfortunately. Though we have greatly enjoyed our time here, it is time to go back to Dale.”

“I shall miss you.”

“We will see each other again soon,” he assured me.

———

On my way back to my chambers, I stumbled upon the tail end of Thranduil’s coat turning around the corner. Giggling to myself, I thought I could sneak up and surprise him so I followed the trail as silently as I could. Thranduil had a quick stride when he wasn’t slowing down for me making the current task difficult. He stopped suddenly and I heard him speak. I was going to answer, but then realized it was Sindarin and I had very little idea what he just said.

Another voice responded and I recognized it as the healer that attended me the night before. There was a few words I could make out between the two, but I could tell it was a heated conversation and Thranduil was quickly growing angry. Their voices echoed off the walls, Sindarin being thrown back and forth, and then the healer nearly shouted in Westron.

“You cannot be certain the child is yours, Aran nin!”

“How dare you!” Thranduil shouted back.

“The way King Bard looked at her. The way she looked at him. And when I told her she was with child, she looked scared as if she knew,” he pleaded with Thranduil to listen.

I felt my stomach drop and the sudden urge to vomit overwhelm me. At least Thranduil didn’t seem to believe the elf, but the idea that he thought I was unfaithful was horrible.

“You have no idea what we have been through,” Thranduil seethed. “That you would accuse your queen, my wife!”

Not knowing whether to run away as fast as possible or comfort Thranduil, my mind was made up when the healer decided to insult me again. I turned the corner, pushing past Thranduil so that I was face to face with the healer whose face fell the moment he saw me. This was something I was uncomfortable with, but I was angry and upset, and Thranduil was right. After everything we had been through together, I would never hurt him in any way, and here was one of his servants trying to convince him that the child I carried was Bard’s.

“I would just like to say that I am pained by your words, but I have been faithful to my king. King Bard is a friend who is more like family than anything else. Not that it is any of your concern, but I felt I must say something since you seem so convinced the child I carry is not his.”

Turning towards Thranduil who was stunned as he looked upon me, I bowed before making my exit. Laying my hand on his arm, I spoke.

“Sorry for intruding, meleth. I will see myself back.”

Thranduil’s strong grip stopped me before I could leave.

“I will handle this and then I will take you back to our room, meleth nin,” he forced out against my temple. “Wait for me by the window.” He lifted his face and pointed at the healer who stood by uncomfortably.

“No one insults my wife.”

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[parkerslatte]

Wish That Were Me [part two]

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of cheating

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: After staying with Y/N for longer than planned, Spencer's overwhelming urge to tell Y/N how he feels is stronger than ever. However as he comes to notice, she may just begin to feel the same.

A/N: There will be a third (and probably final) part. This part ended up being longer than I originally expected and I didn’t want to write the other things I had planned as it would be double it’s length. 

Part One // Part Two // Part Three

MASTERLIST

Requests Open

***

Spencer had stayed at Y/N’s for longer than originally planned. He was only meant to stay for the night but two weeks down the line, he was still there. Y/N didn’t mind, in fact she loved that she wasn’t alone. Spencer, however, was getting nervous. Staying with Y/N for two weeks was enough for his love to grow. It all felt so domestic to him. They woke up and ate breakfast together, they went to work together, they ate dinner together. Spencer couldn’t help himself but fall in love with her even more. To him it was selfish. She had just gotten out of a seven year marriage and here he was wishing that he could wake up and spend all his time with Y/N everyday. 

Spencer was relaxing on her couch as she walked into the room, and an all too familiar cardigan wrapped around her shoulders. 

“Hey, I stole one of your cardigans, it’s a bit cold and all mine are in the wash. You’re okay with it right?”

Spencer looked up at Y/N. The cardigan was too big for her causing the hem to fall down to just above her knees. The colour complimented her skin tone making her look radiant. Spencer’s mouth fell open and closed trying to find the words to say. When he couldn’t find them, he simply nodded. Y/N gave him a smile before slipping down on the couch next to him. 

She sat crossed legged on the other end of the couch. Spencer was glad for this since he didn’t want to be in an extremely close proximity to her, at least not at that moment. Clearing his throat, Spencer went back to his book, although he wasn’t reading nearly as fast as before since he was slightly distracted. 

Feeling a gaze on him, Spencer diverted his eyes away from the words on the page to Y/N who was looking at him with wide eyes. 

“What?” Spencer questioned, repressing a grin.

“Nothing, you just look really concentrated when you read - it’s cute.” Y/N responded before reaching forward and grabbing the television remote from the coffee table. 

Spencer felt like his heart was going to burst at that moment. The words Y/N spoke - she had no idea what effect they had on Spencer. A slight red tinge spread across his face, as much as he tried to suppress it. Spencer was embarrassed, he was nearing forty and Y/N made him feel like a teenager. He let out a quiet sigh before returning to his book, now reading at an even slower pace than before. 

***

It had now been nearing three weeks since Spencer said he could stay a night at Y/N’s. As much as he loved being around her, he felt like he was intruding. A lot of his clothes were now packed away in drawers in Y/N’s spare bedroom and he stayed at her house even when she wasn’t there. It felt as if he had moved in. Spencer had barely been back to his own apartment, only stopping by to collect clothes. 

The rest of the team were beginning to grow suspicious. Everyday the two had arrived together and left together and they rarely left each other's side (which wasn’t as unusual but still drew suspicion nonetheless). Y/N still hadn’t told the rest of the team about James, it wasn’t that she didn’t trust them, she just wasn’t ready. Spencer respected that however he did give her a small push to tell them occasionally. 

No one said anything until Spencer was called into Emily’s office one morning.

“What did you need me for?” Spencer questioned, placing both of his hands in his pockets. 

“I’m just going to cut right to the chase,” She said, “What’s going on with you and Y/N?”

“What?” Spencer exclaimed, “Nothing is going on with me and Y/N.”

“Reid, you know I trust you but you and Y/N, you’ve been acting strange around each other, you more than usual,” Emily began to explain, “If there’s anything I need to know about, you need to tell me.”

Spencer shook his head, he was annoyed by Emily’s accusations. She never explicitly stated it but she thought him and Y/N were having an affair. Spencer didn’t know if he should have felt insulted or not. 

“I’m only helping Y/N with something personal, if she wants to, she’ll tell you in her own time.” Spencer responded before exiting Emily’s office. 

On his way out, Y/N tried to stop him as she had noticed his facial expression was completely contrasting the one he wore when he first entered her office. Spencer brushed her off before sitting down at his desk. Y/N headed over to him.

“Hey, you okay?” She questioned, perching herself on the edge of his desk.

“I’m fine.” He responded bluntly. 

“Are you sure?” Y/N responded, going to reach for his hand but he simply moved it away, causing her to frown.

“Yeah, it’s just,” Spencer wanted to choose his next words carefully as to not offend Y/N, “I think that I should go back to my apartment.”

Y/N’s face dropped, “Oh.”

Immediately, Spencer felt bad. The smile and happiness was gone from her face, replaced with a look of disappointment. He wanted to reach out and grab her hand but he knew that it would only cause even more rumours to fly around.

“I’m sorry, I just think that I’m intruding, I was only meant to be there one night and it’s been three weeks.” Spencer explained.

“I like having you around, it’s less lonely.” Y/N stated, a hopeful expression on her face.

“I’ll come and collect my things later.” Spencer said, avoiding all eye contact. 

“Oh, okay then.” Y/N lingered at his desk for a moment before heading back to her own and started going through files. 

Spencer looked at her and he felt as if his heart would break. She looked disappointed and sad. It caused Spencer physical pain to say those words to her. Of course he wanted to stay with her, even if he left like he was intruding, if she wanted him to stay he would've stayed as long as she wanted. With a sigh Spencer got back to his work, stealing glances toward Y/N all day although she never returned them.

***

Two weeks later, the team were called away on a case. Spencer sat as the briefing commenced, however he noticed that the seat always occupied by Y/N was empty. His eyebrows furrowed, Y/N was practically always here, even when she was ill she would come in and Hotch had to force her to go home and rest.

“Where’s Y/N?” Spencer questioned.

“She called in sick this morning.” Emily answered before they started the briefing. 

Spencer paid attention although his mind was also occupied with thoughts of Y/N. He knew that she was perfectly fine yesterday and it was possible to contract an illness overnight, but he couldn’t help but think that something was wrong. 

Once the briefing ended, everyone got up from the table to collect their go bags. Spencer remained seated. 

“You coming?” Luke questioned.

“I think I’ll stay and help from here, if Y/N needs anything I can help her.” Spencer said. It was mainly an excuse to go and see if Y/N was okay - he knew that Penelope could check up on Y/N.

Emily agreed to it without an argument before everyone left, the team to the jet and Spencer to Y/N’s apartment. On his way there, his mind was constantly thinking about Y/N. There was a possibility that she was really ill but a gut feeling in Spencer told him that she wasn’t. He didn’t know how Y/N would react when he showed up at her door. The two hadn’t spoken a lot within the past two weeks, Y/N spent most of her time with either Penelope or Tara. Spencer felt bad about leaving her at her house alone. He never meant to offend her, he just didn’t want rumours to fly around the workplace. 

When he finally got to Y/N’s house, he rushed to the front door and knocked on it. Thirty seconds later, Y/N opened the door with a confused look. Spencer’s gut feeling was correct, Y/N in no way looked ill. She looked perfectly healthy. 

“What are you doing here Spencer? You should be on the case with the others.” Y/N stepped away from the door allowing Spencer to come inside. 

“I just heard that you’re ill so I stayed behind in case you needed anything.” Spencer explained.

“I could’ve asked Penelope.” Y/N replied bluntly, going to sit down on her couch, Spencer trailed behind her. 

“I know that but-”

“Why don’t you ask Penelope to book you a flight and go and meet the others on the case?” Y/N cut him off, avoiding all eye contact with Spencer.

“What?” Spencer asked, circling around the couch to sit on it, “No, I’m not going to do that, I can help from here, you’re sick so I’m here to help.”

Spencer knew she wasn’t sick but he wasn’t going to ask bluntly what was wrong with her. She was getting increasingly defensive and blunt.

“I’m clearly not ill Spencer, it’s obvious.” Y/N replied, fiddling with the blanket she had laid over her legs.

“I know that,” Spencer replied softly, “But there is something bothering you.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment. Spencer watched her facial features change as she contemplated telling him or not.

“You know I’m here for you no matter what.” Spencer said, shuffling closer to her on the couch, it was then when he noticed what she was wearing over her shoulders. It was his cardigan. Spencer had been looking for that cardigan ever since he left Y/N’s two weeks ago, it never crossed his mind that Y/N had taken it.

“I know,” She replied, wrapping the cardigan tighter around herself. “I just know that if I say it aloud, it becomes real.”

Spencer moved even closer to her so the side of his body lightly brushed hers. Spencer felt Y/N press herself against him a little more so her arm was firmly pressed against his. Her head fell onto his shoulder. Internally he was freaking out. In all the years the two had known each other, they had never sat like this. 

“I saw him kiss another girl, James I mean,” Y/N said, “He looked happier than he ever did with me.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Spencer said, resting his head on top of hers as a form of comfort. 

“That’s not all,” Y/N said, “He saw me, and he came over. I don’t know why he did, there was no need for him to. He asked how I was and I said that I was fine, wanting the conversation to be over. It was until the girl he was with introduced himself. I knew that while we were separated James had seen other women, it should have bothered me at the time but it didn’t, I knew that our relationship was too far gone to repair.”

Spencer heard Y/N sniffle. Removing his head from the top of hers, he looked down. Tears began to pool in her eyes. “Y/N, you don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I’m going to continue,” Y/N replied, as she took Spencer’s hand in her own, “When the woman introduced herself, I wasn’t really paying attention, I just wanted to get out of there as quickly as I could. What I did pay attention to was when she said they were celebrating their one year anniversary. He was cheating on me six months before we even split up. I should have seen the signs, I’m a fucking profiler.”

Spencer pulled Y/N against his body as she cried. He cradled the back of her head with one hand while the other rubbed up and down her back. Y/N’s arms wrapped around his torso and her head buried itself into his chest. 

The two sat there until Spencer’s phone rang, knowing that it was most likely Emily, he took the call, still holding onto Y/N. Spencer wanted to get off the call as quickly as possible so he could go back to comforting Y/N, who’s cries were muffled by his chest. 

“And Reid, how’s Y/N?” Emily questioned.

Spencer looked down at Y/N, who by now looked exhausted, “She’s fine, she just needs some rest.” 

Spencer bid goodbye to Emily before all his attention was returned to Y/N. Her cries were now resorted to small sniffles, her eyes were red and puffy from crying and her face was flushed red. But to Spencer, she still looked like the most beautiful woman in the world. 

“You should get some rest.” Spencer said quietly.

“I don’t want to.” Y/N mumbled. 

“Y/N, you should, at least a couple hours.” Spencer said, brushing a piece of hair that had fallen into her face, once he realised what he did, he quickly retracted his hand. 

“Okay,” Y/N sighed, “But can you stay with me?”

“Always.” Spencer replied. 

Spencer, expecting Y/N to head back to her room, was surprised when she gently pushed him back on the couch. She situated herself so her head was rested on his chest and the rest of her body was pressed up against him. Spencer felt his heart beating out of his chest. Her breath fanned his neck slightly, causing his face to heat up. At this point he was glad that her eyes were closed. He wrapped one arm around her waist to stop her from falling off the couch and pulled her closer to him.

Spencer waited until he knew that Y/N was asleep before looking down at her face. In her sleep she looked peaceful, the worry lines on her face were non-existent and a small smile was present on her face. He moved his head forward slightly, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, letting it linger there for a moment. 

Never had Spencer ever thought that he would be in this position with Y/N. To him, he always thought the closest he would ever get to her would be a hug. Now he could feel her entire body pressed against him. Her hand that rested on his chest burned the skin through his clothes. To him, everything about Y/N was perfect, even the things that were deemed as imperfections were perfect in his eyes. 

Before Spencer drifted off into an unconscious state, he muttered three simple words but Spencer meant all three of them, “I love you.”

***

A couple of hours later, Spencer awoke to his phone ringing again. Opening his eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the brightness,he grabbed his phone. Y/N stirred on his chest.

“Shhh,” Spencer muttered, “Go back to sleep.”

He answered the phone and offered as much information as he could before hanging up again. Y/N was now fully awake on his chest, however she had no intention to move. Spencer rubbed up and down her spine gently, not even realising he was doing it. 

“Are you okay?” He muttered against her hair. 

“No, but I will be,” Y/N answered, “I just feel stupid. I’m a profiler and I didn’t see the signs.”

“Hey, you’re not stupid okay? Don’t ever say that about yourself.” Spencer said. 

“I just...am I really that unloveable? He was cheating on me for six months. I’m thirty-four and I thought I found the person I would spend the rest of my life with and he found someone new a year ago.”

Spencer gently pressed Y/N closer to his body. He couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. She wasn’t unloveable, she was far from that. For as long as Spencer knew Y/N, he had loved her and he was still in love with her. 

“That’s not true,” Spencer said, “That is far from true, Y/N. You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. You’re strong, kind and selfless. You are loved, I love you,” Spencer said, there was a small pause, “The whole team loves you.”

Spencer looked down to notice Y/N looking up at him with a small smile on her face. However he also noticed how close their faces were, more specifically their lips. There was only a couple of centimeters between them and it took a lot for his gaze not to drop down to her lips. 

“Thank you Spencer, I love all of you as well,” Y/N spoke, “You’ve all been there for me no matter what. You even stayed with me for three weeks, I love each and every one of you individually,” Y/N paused for a moment to lean up and pressed a small kiss to Spencer’s cheek, “And I’d like to thank you for that.”

“You shouldn’t thank me, you shouldn’t thank anyone, I’m always going to be there for you Y/N, no matter what.” Spencer said, his hand played with the ends of her hair. 

“I think I’m ready to tell the team about what happened between me and James, they deserve to know.” Y/N said.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

“I’m sure.” 

Y/N got up from the couch and stretched out. Spencer remained laying down on the couch as he watched her walk away. She still had no idea how much Spencer really loved her. 

***

When the team returned from the case a few days later, Y/N waited with Spencer and Penelope in the bullpen to greet all of them. Penelope was confused as to why Y/N had returned to work after having an illness but Y/N only told her to wait until the team arrived. Spencer stood by Y/N’s side as the rest of the team filtered through the doors. They greeted them one by one. 

“Y/N? You weren’t meant to be back yet.” Emily said. 

���I know but I need to tell you all something, it’s something I should have told you months ago,” Y/N said before taking a deep breath, “James and I split up six months ago.”

“What? Why?” Penelope asked.

“We just fell out of love, I was here everyday all day and was away for a lot of the time, we didn’t get to see each other much,” Y/N explained, keeping her composure, “The vacation we took was to try and repair our relationship but it didn’t work. The divorce papers came through three weeks ago.”

“Is that why you requested a sick day?” Emily asked.

“No,” Y/N stated, “The day I phoned you and told you I was sick I bumped into James and his new girlfriend who were celebrating their one year anniversary.” 

“Y/N…” Luke said, his eyes filled with sympathy.

“I’m okay, I promise,” She said, “But there’s one thing that I need you all to do for me.”

“Of course, anything.” JJ said.

“Just tell me you love me, I just need to know that I feel loved.” Y/N stated.

One by one, each team member said I love you to Y/N and hugged her tight, of course when they said it they meant it in a friendly manner. Once it came to Spencer however, it was more than friendly. He had already said it a couple nights previous but Spencer knew that she needed to hear it from him again.

Spencer looked into Y/N’s eyes and moved closer to her and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in the crook of her neck, “I love you.”

Everyone standing around the two hugging knew that Spencer meant it in more than just a friendly way - everyone but Y/N. The hug lasted for longer than it should’ve, surprisingly Spencer was the first to pull away. 

“We’re here for you Y/N, anything you need, don’t be afraid to call us.” Tara said. 

“Yeah, and Kristy and the kids are dying to see you again.” Matt added. 

“I know what this calls for!” Penelope exclaimed, “A party at Rossi’s. It can help Y/N get her mind off that scumbag James and it gives everyone a chance to see each other again.”

Everyone looked toward Rossi as he nodded his head in agreement. Penelope threw her arm around Y/N as she let out a cheer. Spencer watched as a wide smile spread across Y/N’s face. It caused one to spread across his own. 

“Spencer, can I talk to you for a moment?” Emily questioned. 

“Of course.” Spencer responded as the two stepped away from everyone else.

“Was James the reason why you two were acting the way you were? Arriving together and leaving together?” Emily questioned.

Spencer nodded, “I was staying at hers for a few weeks, after we went out that night and we left early, she told me everything. I was only meant to stay one night but she didn’t want to be lonely.”

Spencer’s gaze drifted towards Y/N who was laughing and joking with everyone. It was the happiest he had seen her in a long time.

“You still love her don’t you?” Emily questioned.

“Sorry?” Spencer responded.

“You love her,” Emily said again, “The way you look at her, Reid. You don’t look at anyone else that way.”

Spencer looked down at his feet, “I do love her, I always have. I thought that these feelings would eventually disappear but it’s been years and these past few weeks have only strengthened that feeling.”

“You should tell her.” Emily stated.

“What? No,” Spencer said, “I’m not risking the friendship we have over that.”

“Reid, she deserves to know.” Emily said.

“She doesn’t need to.” Spencer shook his head and wandered back to the group. 

Once he made an appearance, Y/N put one of her arms around his torso, pulling him into a hug, “I wondered when you were going to come back.” 

Spencer gave her a smile before looking up and making eye contact with Emily. He didn’t need to tell Y/N his feelings. It wasn’t worth risking his friendship for. However, every minute he spent with Y/N, especially recently, he could feel himself fall deeper in love with her (if it were even possible). Like now for instance, with her arm slung around his torso, Spencer could only pay attention to her and only her. Maybe it was time for him to tell her how he really felt.

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[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

26 for the prompts? perhaps w the cat n mouse lads :3 (also look danny i did it i sent a prompt are u proud)

I...actually don't remember what the prompt was for this one, but I'm 87% sure it was "I'm not that scary, am I?"

So fine since y'all keep asking for 'em, here's more of the cat and mouse bois. Shoutout to @gabbydafurry and an anon for finally giving them names.

--

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“I’ll make pollo asado for dinner, we can eat it together while we watch!”

Aaron sighed and rubbed his hands against his forehead, trying to ease the dull throb that had yet to wane over the past two days. His headache certainly wasn’t being helped by the constant badgering of his...roommate, for a lack of better words (as well as being a title so eagerly self bestowed by the cat in question) but much like many of their other interactions, his resolve was starting to wear thin. Usually, he was able to hold his ground for at least a week until he was bribed into giving the other some type of social interaction with the promise of his favorite foods. Today, however, the poor mouse just wanted a moment’s peace free from knocking on the walls or calling through the cracks until he answered, and if that meant watching some stupid movie then fine.

Plus, Lucas did know how to make some incredible Mexican food.

“...fine,” Aaron conceded after a pause, the pressure behind his eyes giving him a sharp pang before fading to its usual ache, almost like his own body was projecting how horrible of an idea this was.

As soon as the mouse slipped out from behind the curio, he came face to face with the massive grin of the cat mere inches away from the opening. Seeing the grin only split wider when he was fully in view of the other normally would have instinctively sent a shiver up his spine, it was kind of difficult to be intimidated seeing how Lucas had strangely contorted his body to lay on the floor between the curio and the bookcase. Most cats seemed to be fairly flexible, so it probably wasn’t too uncomfortable for him to be so bent and curled up, but he definitely lost some of that hunter’s prowess with his back twisted sideways and one leg leaning against the shelving.

In a flash, Lucas had managed to untangle his strange positioning to instead be crouched on his knees, now looming over Aaron in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. He flinched back when his hand started to reach out towards him, fully intending to scoop him up to dizzying heights without a second thought, but the appendage stopped just short of touching him at all. Instead, he dropped his hand palm side up and waited, smiling all the while. At least he was getting better at remembering Aaron’s explicit request to not be grabbed without permission, though he did always apologize with a sheepish look and some little treat whenever he forgot.

Once Aaron climbed onto the awaiting hand that radiated a delightfully intense warmth into his already aching muscles, Lucas was already jumping up a chattering a mile a minute about how much the mouse was going to love the movie he picked out, how dinner would be ready soon, how he wasn’t expecting him to actually agree to watch a scary movie with him since he never seemed like the type who would be into that sort of thing but--

“It’s a scary movie?” Aaron interrupted, the noise finally registering beyond the headache. Truthfully, he tuned a lot of what the other said out for almost every conversation, not that it ever seemed to make a difference. Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit of a chatterbox, he admitted once, but it’s less weird talking to someone who doesn’t respond than to talk to yourself, right?

Debatable.

Lucas tilted his head and snorted. “Uh, yeah? That was one of the first things I told you about. You know that one actress who’s in almost every one of those Christmas movies we watch, who’s always the jealous best friend?” Aaron has no idea who he was referring to given that he never absorbed anything from those stupid romance movies he was boarderline forced to watch, but nodded anyways, “Right, this is supposed to be her big break out role, or something. It’s the first thing she’s doing as a lead actress, and you know, good for her! I’m glad she’s getting out of that typecast she’s been in forever. Horror probably wouldn’t be my first choice for her, but I guess since she has those singing vocals it could carry over to being a scream queen. Kind of like when--”

And Aaron was out of the conversation again.

Lucas continued to drone on about the actress’s entire film career, or at least that’s what the mouse was assuming he was doing when he occasionally zoned back in to pick up a stray word here and there. The headache he had been staving off to the best of his ability was starting to come back with twice as much force as it often did in the later days. He probably could have just asked the other for some aspirin, maybe even some cold medicine as that was no doubt what this bout of illness was turning into, but asking the cat for anything was always out of the question. Of course, Lucas tried to sway him numerous times into thinking it most certainly was not and that he could always ask for whatever he needed, never to his avail. Aaron was indeed willing to prolong his suffering if it meant not having to stomach the dreadful embarrassment that would come to being indebted to the feline, no matter how insignificant.

Unfortunately, he was only setting himself up for failure in thinking this “agreement” would be providing him any sort of relief. His headache was treading dangerously close into becoming a full fledged migraine and the flashes of light and screams from the television would not be doing him any favors. His only saving grace was that, after he had been settled on the couch and Lucas scampered off to get the dinner he promised, the cat turned off every other light possible to, as he put it, really get them in the spooky mood!

The smell of the food was delicious and nauseating. His stomach both wanted and revolted at the idea of anything filling it, which would only serve to worsen his headache no doubt. Damn it all, he wanted to throttle both himself and this illness, the first for agreeing to watch this stupid movie when he was already feeling under the weather, the second for preventing him from getting his half of the deal. These movie-dinner dates deals were the only reason Aaron continued to stick around, even if he thought the torment of being forced to watch awful romcoms in exchange for a hot, homemade meal was a little unfair. No, that wasn’t entirely true, Lucas was a freaking culinary genius as far as the mouse was aware. It was a wonder why he wasn’t majoring in a cooking field.

“I’m not hungry right now,” Aaron lied when Lucas had asked why he wasn’t eating. “I’ll try some later.”

The cat looked at him strangely before shrugging. “Alright, just let me know. If you don’t like it, I can always make you something else.” There he goes again, offering things he knows the other can’t accept. At least he could let it slide this time as he had no appetite to think of any other dish.

Lucas finished his own meal in silence, completely fixed on the television as the opening scene carried on, introducing the canine main character that Aaron did, in fact, vaguely recognize. This was fine, he figured, the dark apartment coupled with a painfully slow movie, a warm body moving to curl up behind him as it so often did during these deals, he could probably get a few moments of real rest in before the credits rolled. As much as he loathed to admit it, the cat was actually rather...comfortable to be forcefully cuddled by. He wasn’t like other movie goers that needed to make a comment on every character’s decision, steady breathing and the occasional purr helping the mouse slowly relax.

That relaxation was cut short as soon as the romcom actress tore her tiny avian neighbor to shreds by the end of the first act.

Aaron had hardly been paying attention to the storyline up until this point, something to do with the girl being bitten and experiencing insatiable hunger lately. The sudden carnage of the otherwise trusting little prey creature made both of them flinch in surprise, though Lucas was quick to laugh it off. From then on the mouse’s unwavering attention was glued to the screen, but not by his choice. A chill ran through him each time she claimed another unsuspecting victim, always a prey animal, and ripped them apart with her teeth and nails like a starving animal. The way the tiny’s incredibly realistic viscera was slurped into her bloody mouth made him queasy, all too easily imagining himself in their shoes.

Eventually, her hunger became too strong and she began attacking fellow predator species as well. Ripping into throats and soft bellies was far messier than snacking on a tiny creature in three bites, making her feast all the more gory. While the violence still unsettled him, it was a touch more bearable now that he couldn’t picture his own body being mangled between the teeth of a predator he thought he could trust. Speaking of…

The mouse gulped and risked a glance behind him at the other who had hardly moved, save for a few jolts and snickers whenever a particularly good jump scare managed to startle him. It didn’t go unnoticed that every time Aaron had physically reacted to a sudden screech or attack, the cat would curl just a little bit tighter around him, hiding a laugh behind a rumbling purr. He wanted to believe this was meant to be an act of comfort and not something equally as nefarious as the canine plotting her next kill. Regardless, Lucas was equally transfixed on the movie, except he seemed to be enjoying every minute of the horror aspect. His tail would flick in interest during the high tension scenes, even more so when a chase sequence was underway. It made sense, considering that was his favorite game to make Aaron play.

Whatever the case may be, the mouse couldn’t help but be unnerved tenfold that the other had the audacity to enjoy a fictional movie he was interested in seeing. The last thing the mouse wanted was for Lucas to get any more ideas when it came to chasing him around the apartment, much less awaken any sort of primitive instinct to maim his prize after it had been captured. To this day, it remains a deep seated fear in the back of his mind that every time the cat cupped his hands over him, his teeth would be quick to follow. Natural instincts were hard to shake for a reason when it came to prey animals such as himself, he could only hope the same wasn’t true for predators.

His imagination was running rampant, enough so that he completely missed how the movie ended. Something about a cure, something about being put down, whatever. The only thing on his mind was the morbidly hilarious thought that if Lucas were to go feral like the canine, would he eat him raw or would he cook him up in another fantastic dish?

Aaron jumped when Lucas moved to sit up behind him, only now registering the credits scrolling across the screen. He stretched a bit, the quickly fading warmth that had been surrounding the mouse making him realize just how tight the other must have been snuggled around him. How did he not notice?

“Wow,” Lucas said, pursing his lips. “That...was one of the worst movies I have ever seen in my life.”

That wasn’t the reaction Aaron had been expecting him to have, but it was certainly better than to hear him go on about how it was a brilliant masterpiece. He got up to flick the lights back on, still laughing as he recounted each poorly written scene and cheesy effects. “I mean, oh my god, right? The mail man saved everyone? Seriously? I actually feel bad for making you watch that, you totally have dibs on the next movie night.”

He turned around to look at the mouse who was still huddled tight on the couch, wide eyes glued to the screen even if it was just names moving along with ominous background music. Lucas gave him another quizzical look, smirking.

“C’mon, even you have to admit those tinies had zero survival instincts. Like, who goes up to a rabid dog and asks for directions? I get suspending my disbelief and all, but they could have made it just a pinch realistic. This is so going to tank her acting career…” The cat shook his head and moved closer to the couch so that he stood right in front of the television, finally drawing the other’s attention to himself. “Hey, you hungry now?”

Oh, absolutely fucking not. An hour and a half of being tensed up gave no relief to his aching muscles and now that the lights were back on, so was his pounding headache. His stomach rolled, the nausea a mix of dizziness and disgust from the special effects. He didn’t even want to think about food, he didn’t want to be out in the open anymore, and he most certainly did not want to spend another minute in the cat’s company right now.

“S-sure…” Aaron finally squeaked out. He just needed Lucas out of the room, distracted somewhere so he could make a break for it. In some instances, he would have just darted off whether the cat saw him or not, but that always resulted in a game of chase that had a 50/50 success rate, the other loving it anyways. All he wanted was some peace and quiet to rest up and heal and not think about how easy it would be for the other to bite off his head whenever he felt like it.

Lucas stood there for a minute, studying him, and just when Aaron genuinely feared he was going to pounce, he flashed an innocent smile. “Cool, just give me a couple minutes to get it heated up.” And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen.

Aaron decided to be bold and waste a few precious seconds of his head start to collect himself. Deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous. Lucas had been nothing but kind to him. Aloof, but still kind all the same. But as a prey animal that spent the better part of his life living in walls and stealing to survive, trust was a risk he simply couldn’t take. There was hardly any benefit to keeping up this con if the end goal was simply to eat him. For all he knew, though, Lucas was nothing more than a merciless sociopath that was willing to milk every ounce of fear he could before chowing down. A sociopath obsessed with romantic comedies and wore an apron when he cooked and had begged Aaron for two months straight to tell him when his birthday was so that he could make him a miniature cake.

...okay, so maybe Lucas wasn’t a sociopath, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Evolution gave him sharpened fangs and agile reflexes for a reason and the mouse was not about to find out what it was like to be on the receiving end of those one day.

With his head as clear as it was going to be for the time being, sans the dull throb behind his eyes, the mouse finally pushed himself up to make his way over to the couch arm. Slowly, as to not overwork his stiff joints, he climbed his way down to the floor and skittered under the couch for a little extra protection. Strangely, he noticed that he didn’t hear any noises coming from the kitchen just up ahead and when he stopped by the doorway, he couldn’t see anyone either. Losing track of the massive cat should not be possible, especially considering this was a one bedroom apartment and there was literally nowhere else for the feline to go without coming back through the entryway. Aaron should have taken it as a blessing, but of course he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

He proceeded to be daring and come out from under the couch completely to peek into the kitchen, confirming it was empty. Again, that shouldn’t even be possible for Lucas to slip out without having to directly pass the living room to go somewhere else. Unless he had, which would mean Aaron missed him somehow. He had been in quite a deep thought process on the couch...but he could have sworn he was only collecting himself for a minute!

The answer became glaringly obvious when the mouse took a few hesitant steps back and turned to retreat under the safety of the couch, only to come face to face with Lucas. He damn near jumped out of his skin, slamming his back against the wall in an effort to gain another inch of distance between himself and the face taking up his entire view. Really, this was nothing too out of the ordinary for the cat, he loved to sneak up and pounce whenever the opportunity presented itself and Aaron wasn’t too obviously close to heart failure. What made his heart stutter, however, was the fact that Lucas didn’t look like...well, Lucas. There was no smile, no warm eyes, no words being talked a mile a minute about nothing.

No, there was just a frowning cat with his ears pinned back and pupils slit, stalking closer with a terrifying rumble in his throat.

Instinct overtook him as soon as he saw the other’s lip twitch, trying to dart under the couch for safety and having his path immediately blocked by a hand being slammed down, claw out. Aaron couldn’t even yelp, the bile in his throat threatening to turn into vomit if he idled around too long. So, he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and scampered in the opposite direction with the cat hot on his trail. He very nearly dodged a swipe, Lucas hissing that his blow didn’t land while Aaron only tried to speed up his sprinting. They circled maybe half of the living room, the mouse weaving under furniture while the cat knocked into them in an effort to jarr his prey into taking a misstep.

It worked, unfortunately, when Aaron took a sharp turn at the bookshelf and caused Lucas to clip it with his shoulder. The small bump did nothing to deter the cat on his hunt, but the two books that came tumbling down were enough to make the smaller skid and trip to avoid being squashed under the novels. He ended up twisting his ankle awkwardly, stumbling flat on his face while the momentum of his running made him roll twice until he landed on his back. Despite being winded and the additional pain in his leg, he knew there was no time to waste, trying to pull himself. It was too late, though. The cat was already on top of him, hand coming down to pin him under his palm while only his head poked free from between his fingers.

That cold, terrifying face came nearer, eyes tunnel visioned on its prize. Oh God, Aaron would give anything to have the other Lucas back right now. He’d watch a thousand sappy movies, do a date night for every meal, actually move into his bedroom like the cat had suggested he do a dozen times. He wanted...fuck, he wanted his friend back. What he thought was his friend, anyways. Not this killer, not this predator who was baring his teeth and was now mere inches away from biting off his face and--

The growling above him broke off into a snort shortly before turning into a full blown laugh. Aaron wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes in preparation for his certain death, but when he dared to open them and blinked away the budding tears, he saw that smile he had been wishing for again. Kind and warm, just like eyes, and it was like Lucas had never even taken the form of a starving hunter in his life. Like he hadn’t been moments away from devouring his beloved roommate.

“Oh, come on,” he howled with laughter, “You can’t be serious! That movie actually scared you? I mean, I thought you looked a little freaked out by it, but wow!”

The movie...so this...this wasn’t real. Lucas was just pretending, just playing a prank on him. He thought that the movie had simply wound him up and made him jumpier than usual, no different than watching a zombie flick and popping out from behind a bush at your friend later on.

Except it was different. It was different in the fact that zombies aren't real, but predators are. Predators didn’t need an excuse to go feral and maim and consume their tiny cohabitants, they simply could by the laws of nature. And yes, it may be illegal and have several laws in place to protect prey species, but if no body was ever left behind, who could say if foul play was involved? That was the whole plot point in the otherwise dull movie they sat through together, the reason why the woman was able to avoid suspicion of her sickness by feeding on tinies that could only be reported missing at most.

Lucas’s laughter had tapered off, still clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, note to self, no more horror movies.” Finally, he released Aaron from under his hand to sit back on his haunches. “Man, I really didn’t think you would scare that easily, especially from a B-movie like that. Anyways, are you actually ready to eat now? I put your stuff in the oven so it would reheat better, but it should be done by now….Ronnie?”

Aaron hadn’t moved an inch since he was originally pinned, not even after the hand had been lifted off of him. He just stared up blankly at the cat, trembling and wide eyed, unable to do anything as the rapid succession of events sunk in. The cat’s humor died down a little, smile hesitating.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist, you know?” He shrugged a little sheepishly. “You didn’t even notice when I came back so I thought...I don’t know, it was funnier in my head. I almost broke character and started laughing before you ran!” With still no verbal response, Lucas reached out a hand. “Aaron? You good? Come on, I’m not that scary, am I?”

The reaction he got probably wasn’t what he was hoping for with Aaron suddenly scrambling to push himself away from the outstretched hand that might trap and tear apart his limbs. He gave a sharp squeak, managing to find his footing only to come crashing down as soon as he took the first step, his ankle noticeably swollen by this point. His cry of pain was muffled into a desperate grunt, trying so hard to drag himself away as a last ditch effort to avoid the same fate as the bird and the squirrel and the mole in the movie.

Lucas gasped. “Oh, Ronnie, your leg!” Both hands were reaching for the mouse now, aiming to cup around him and scoop him up before they surely put him out of his misery. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t...oh my God, I hurt you.”

Yes and no. In truth, Aaron had been the one to hurt himself by making his body move in ways it physically shouldn’t. But that didn’t change the fact that Lucas had shown his true colors. Perhaps in hindsight, that wasn’t a fair assessment, as he really did think he was playing a harmless little joke on a skittish friend. The pain came from knowing that the cat could turn feral, though, no matter how genuine he was being. There was still clearly an instinct within him, one that knew how to hunt and bare his teeth and hiss, one that knew deep down where they both ranked on the food chain. It hurt in knowing everything he thought about his friend, everything that kept him from really letting down his walls like the other so desperately wanted, was right. Cats and mice were not friends.

“Get away from me!” Aaron shrieked when the hands came too close. Though they withdrew quickly, he didn’t bother to watch if they would move again as he forced himself up to stumble back to his nook behind the bookshelf.

“Aaron, wait!” It was a fruitless request and Lucas knew it as he didn’t even try to stop the mouse from disappearing behind the furniture back into the walls. It would only make matters so much worse. “Aaron, please, you’re hurt, just...at least let me help you. Please. I...I’m so sorry! It was an accident, I promise!”

The cat shuffled closer, leaning down in hopes that the other could at least hear his pleas better, could hear how sincere he was trying to be. “I would never hurt you, Aaron. You’re one of my best friends. Look, it was a stupid prank and I’m an asshole and I’ll never do it again, just please come out. Just let me know if you’re alright?”

It didn’t matter how hard or for how long he tried, Aaron was long gone within the walls.

[toosicktoocare]

ya’ll ever dissect a brief two-second clip in a trailer for a season of a show that hasn’t come out yet and concoct a small story around it that turns into an almost 2k-word fic at almost 2 am in the morning? no? just me? 

anyway, i’m obviously hung up on that brief clip in the 911 season 5 trailer where Eddie falls. Is he panicking? Maybe, and that’s definitely what I wrote about. though, halfway through writing, when I was just watching a gif set for the clip, i had a thought that maybe he was poisoned instead. but, well, I was in too deep by that point. 

Trigger Warning for Panic Attacks. 

There’s panic, Eddie thinks, when he’s on the job. Panic that strikes a chord against the adrenaline thumping in his blood. Panic that drives his muscles and activates the sheer need to act and save in his mind.

This, Eddie thinks, is not that type of panic.

This is the panic that pools at the bottom of his stomach, always there and always waiting to accumulate, to feed on his fears, to expand upward. This is the panic that slides past his rib cage in the background until it’s snaking around his lungs, constricting slowly until he suddenly can’t suck in a deep breath and thus panics harder.

This is the panic that chips away at his brain, replacing the known with the biting edge of the unknown. Burning away the calm and revealing the trauma that’s been tucked away. This panic nips at his heart and eats at his nerves until he succumbs to it, the icy trace of its presence bringing with it a cold sweat that slips down Eddie’s temples.

He tugs at his collar, his pulse pounding hard against his neck, but it’s not enough. His breath is trapped, unable to sneak past the panic molding over his lungs. His hand falls to his side limply, and for a moment, he stares at the ground, his vision swimming, the faint background sounds becoming lost to the roar of his heart.

He doesn’t realize he’s falling until his back hits the ground, the air trapped in his lungs pushing out with a low wheeze. The pain that erupts along his back is numbed under the weight of bottled memories, of the gun shot that ripped through his arm, of the blood painting his world in a thick, deep red that drowns him.  

“Eddie? I heard something fall.”

He’s no longer on the floor, instead lost in a hazy limbo, what he fears most unfolding before him. He’s gone, and Christopher is grieving. His son is shutting everyone out, his voice muted under the pain. The 118, once a solid foundation, cracks, and Buck? Buck screams his voice raw. Buck punches at a brick wall, over and over until his knuckles tear and bleed. He swings when Bobby tries to stop him, and then he crumbles.

“Edmundo!”

As quickly as it comes, it’s gone, and Eddie gasps, the single breath a mountain to climb over. He’s at Ana’s. It’s their date night, and she was finding a pair of earrings she received as a birthday gift a few years back. They were set to leave for their dinner reservation in just a few minutes.

His shirt is damp against his skin, and he trembles the entire way to his feet, each muscle wobblier than the last.

“Edmundo, what happened? Are you ill?”

Ana’s frantic at his side, and she palms at his forehead, the worry across her face evident even through his fuzzy vision. He shakes his head, and she pulls her hand away, lips pointed downward.

“You’re ice cold,” she worries, one hand sliding down his arm. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head again, unable to speak around what little breaths he’s able to take in. He’s on autopilot when he’s helped over to Ana’s couch, and he fades in and out of the present, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he struggles to recapture his breathing. His hands are fists at his knees, and he hunches over, curling in on himself, shielding himself.

He stays this way until a hand tugs lightly at his wrist and a voice calls out his name gently. He’s slow to lift his gaze, but when he does, Buck crowds his vision, blue eyes impossibly worried before him.

“Buck?” He croaks out, and Buck nods sharply, his fingers pressing to the inside of Eddie’s wrist.

“It’s me,” Buck reassures calmly. “I’m going to check your pulse, okay? Keep your eyes on mine.”

Eddie can only nod, the lump in his throat keeping his words from him. He trains his gaze to Buck’s. He knows Buck is counting silently to himself, and yet, Buck’s gaze doesn’t waver; his concentration doesn’t fold in the slightest. His eyes are sharp, focused, and after sixty seconds, his face relaxes a fraction, and Eddie’s lungs deflate with a low sigh.

“You’re okay,” Buck whispers, leaning forward until his forehead knocks lightly against Eddie’s, warm compared to his Eddie’s clammy one. His hand finds the side of Eddie’s neck, cups it gently, and Eddie holds the position, pulling all his focus toward the weight of Buck’s hand, the heat spreading across his forehead and down to his cheeks, his neck, stopping at his heart.

“I’m okay,” he finally repeats, voice low, cracking slightly, and only then does Buck pull away, frowning.

“Ana called.” Buck keeps his voice quiet, just a breath above a whisper. “She said she found you on the floor.” He opens his mouth, prepared to press further, but Eddie shakes his head sharply.

“Not here. Where’s Chris?”

“Kitchen with Ana.” Buck rises to his feet and steps away from Eddie’s view. “Sorry, I didn’t want to leave him—”

“—It’s fine,” Eddie mutters, his ears perking up to hear Christopher and Ana talking nearby. Christopher giggles quietly, and the furrow of Eddie’s brow smooths over slightly. “I need to postpone our date,” he adds, more to himself, and Buck extends a steady hand to help him off the couch.

“I’ll get Chris settled back in the jeep. Will you be okay to drive your truck back, or should I arrange to get it for you later?”

“I can drive,” Eddie mumbles weakly, and then Buck crowds his vision again, worry painted down every inch of his face.

“Try that again. If I still don’t believe it, I’m taking your keys.”

Eddie sucks in a deep breath. His chest still hurts, the panic still a nagging sheet of ice burrowed deep in the base of his stomach, but he’s able to hold air in his lungs until he exhales slowly, the line of tension across his shoulders breaking.

“I can drive.” He repeats, stronger, and Buck nods, his own body relaxing.

“I’ll see you back at your house, then. Be careful.” Buck turns on his heel, a smile playing across his lips as he rounds into the kitchen with Eddie close behind him.

“Chris! Do you want to put the band-aid on your dad’s arm?” Buck turns to lean in close to Eddie, whispering, “I told him you fell and hurt your arm.”

Eddie mouths ‘thank you’ at the same time Christopher shouts, “Yeah!”

Eddie plants a smile across his lips, forced against the lingering, nagging edge of panic, and he rolls up a single jacket sleeve halfway up his arm. He crouches down, points to an unmarked spot on his arm, and Chris carefully, almost delicately, spreads a Superman band-aid across his arm.

“All better?” Chris asks, and Eddie nods as he gets to his feet. He ruffles Christopher’s hair, his own smile warming across his lips.

“All better,” he repeats. “Thanks, bud. You okay to go back to the house with Buck? I’ll meet you there?”

“Yep!”

Christopher offers multiple goodbyes before he and Buck slip out the door, leaving Eddie to work around just how exactly to explain to Ana that he’s not sure he can do this right now, that he’s succumbing to the issues he’s been too stubborn to recognize over the last couple of months. That he would be miserable company for he’s too wrapped up in a gut-wrenching fear that bears its fangs when he least expects it.

“It’s okay, Eddie.”

Her voice is impossibly soft beside him, soft but classically genuine, and he turns toward her, frowning.

“Ana, I’m so sorr—”

“—Don’t,” Ana interrupts, stepping toward him and brushing a feather-light kiss to his cheek. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Her breath is warm against his skin, her voice delicate, her words knowing where to step and where to tread gently. When she pulls away, Eddie almost feels guilty at the relief, at the weight that drops from his shoulders.

“Talk soon?” He asks, and she nods, a small smile tight at her lips.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” he tells her, and he means it. Every inch of him means it.

---

When Eddie pulls into his driveway, he turns off his truck, but he doesn’t rush to get out, instead sinking against the exhaustion that’s been creeping over him his entire drive home. He’s drained, emotionally and physically, and he tips his head back, his eyes fluttering shut. He doesn’t look when his car door opens at his side; he only sighs.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi.”

Buck’s being careful, Eddie thinks. He can tell by the way Buck’s tone almost tips up into a question, just not quite reaching that pitch. He’s leaving an opening for Eddie, and Eddie takes it. His eyes flutter open, and he rolls his head toward Buck.

“I’ve got some issues,” he says, and the laugh Buck lets out is nervous, worried.

“You don’t say.”

“I’m not sure what to do,” Eddie admits, twisting around until his legs are hanging out of the door. “Tonight was a lot.” He can see Buck taking in his words, dissecting them in a way he does best.

“You look exhausted. Do you want me to go—”

“—No!”

Buck’s jaw snaps shut at the force of Eddie’s single shout, and Eddie slides out of the car, slumping forward, his forehead dropping against Buck’s shoulder. “Sorry. No, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to be alone right now. My thoughts are—”

“—dark?” Buck finishes, his hand slipping to the small of Eddie’s back. “Not you,” he continues. “Scary?”

“All of the above,” Eddie mutters, and Buck’s hand presses against his back, pushing until Eddie’s flush against his chest. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s back, and Eddie returns the hug, melting against him.

“It’s going to be okay,” Buck whispers. “I’m going to be here, and I’m going to help you.”

Though Eddie knows Buck would quite literally bend over backwards for him, the ease of Buck’s tone, the determination laced within Buck’s words, cracks the icy panic that’s nestled in his stomach. It surprises Eddie still—just how much Buck is willing to be there for him no matter what.

“Thank you,” he mutters, and for the second time in a single night, every entire inch of his being means it.

[kurowrites]

“I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital” AU Prompt for Wangxian, if you like?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

---

When Wei Ying woke up, he had to blink a few times to adjust his vision to the bright glare of the lights overhead, momentarily blinding him. Something was weird. This definitely wasn’t his own bedroom, whose lighting was rather dim and most definitely off when he was sleeping.

He blinked a few times more and then turned his head to examine the room he was in.

It took him far too long to understand what he was seeing, but once his brain actually started processing it, there was no doubt. He was in a hospital room, complete with barren walls and the strong smell of disinfectant. But he had no memory that could explain why he would be waking up in a hospital bed. In fact, now that he thought about it, he had no idea what he’d been doing before he’d woken up here, or even what day of the week it was.

Impatient to have his questions answered, he tried to wriggle around and slip out of bed, but his body felt oppressively heavy, and his vision started to swim as soon as he lifted his head off the pillow.

Exhausted and distressed, he fell back into bed. What the hell had happened to him? Why was he feeling so terrible?

Just that moment, the door of the hospital room opened, and a nurse stepped in.

“Oh, you are awake,” she said. “Good.”

She moved up to the bed and started to check his vitals – or harass him, Wei Ying couldn’t really tell which one it was. She was probably around fifty and had a distinct aunt-y vibe that made Wei Ying lay still on danger of getting stabbed with a needle.

“Do you know why you’re here?” she asked, after she had apparently determined that he was conscious and held it together enough for conversation.

“No,” Wei Ying croaked, and immediately started coughing. His throat felt terribly dry.

The nurse went to his bedside table, where a cup and a pitcher of water had been placed, and filled the cup for him. Then she made him drink.

“You’ve been in a traffic accident,” she told him without ceremony. “You got hit by a car and had to be brought here in an ambulance.”

Shit. Could that be true?

He didn’t remember any of that.

“I don’t remember,” he told the nurse.

“Honey, it’s probably better if you don’t,” she said, patting him on the arm absent-mindedly. “That’s your brain protecting you. You’re also on painkillers right now,” here, she pointed at one of the drips that went into his arm, “and they tend to make your brain a little foggy. You only need to focus on getting better right now.”

That wasn’t particularly comforting to Wei Ying. He’d been lying here, doing–

“My work!” he suddenly remembered.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that!” the nurse said, shaking her head. “I think that nice Mr. Lan has taken care of all that.”

She checked her watch.

“It’s almost time for him to visit, too. Such a nice young man, if only youngsters nowadays were a little more like him.”

She sighed, patted Wei Ying’s arm again, and then left, hopefully to tell someone else that he had gained consciousness again.

Wei Ying sighed and stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure what the nurse had meant with “that nice Mr. Lan,” because he didn’t know anyone with the last name Lan. Certainly no one who would visit him at the hospital. Had she gotten his visitor’s name wrong? He tried to think of a different possibility, but couldn’t think of anyone. Wen Ning was away. And Jiang Cheng still wasn’t speaking to him, not to mention that no one in their right mind would ever call Jiang Cheng a ‘nice young man’ if they had spent more than 30 seconds in his presence.

He wasn’t kept in suspense about the identity of his visitor for very long, though. Only minutes after the nurse had left, the door opened again, and through came a man that Wei Ying had never seen in his life. He would have definitely remembered meeting him, Wei Ying was sure, because the man was a devastating combination of tall, handsome and well-dressed. Very memorable. Even in his current drugged-up state.

The man hesitated for one small moment when he saw Wei Ying looking at him, but then continued his progress through the room with a measured pace, finally arriving at Wei Ying’s bedside. He did not speak, but silently placed several items onto Wei Ying’s bedside table. Wei Ying saw a book, what looked to be some healthy snacks, as well as… his phone? It looked terribly beaten up, but a traffic accident might do that to a phone. He should probably be glad if it still worked.

The stranger must have noticed the direction of his gaze, for he finally opened his mouth.

“I have taken the liberty of contacting you place of work.”

“Thank you,” Wei Ying said, sending the stranger an ironic smile. “What I’d rather like to know, though… who are you?”

The stranger bowed slightly, as if to apologise for his rudeness.

“Lan Zhan,” he said. “I was the one… who hit you with my car.”

“Oh, I see,” Wei Ying said, several things suddenly becoming clear to him. “This is a ‘I’m feeling guilty’ visit. Don’t worry about that. It’s fine. I’ll be out of here in no time.”

The stranger, Lan Zan, frowned at Wei Ying’s words.

“It is not guilt that has made me come here,” he said.

Then he was silent again. Wei Ying waited for a moment, but when nothing else happened, he raised his eyebrows at Lan Zhan, encouraging him to go on. Lan Zhan looked as if he’d rather do anything else than open his mouth again, but eventually, thanks to Wei Ying’s pathetic wheedling, he conceded.

“The one responsible for your accident was the driver who suddenly came out of a side street and nearly ran you over,” Lan Zhan explained. “You ended up in front of my car because you were trying to escape his path of collision. He also crashed into my car, nearly hitting you a second time. I have no guilt to speak of, but I am grateful that you survived. I was worried, however, when your family could not be contacted.”

“Oh, uh, well,” Wei Ying stuttered. “Honestly, that shouldn’t be any concern to you. I’ll be fine. My family… well, it doesn’t matter.”

“Your family should care for you if you are injured.”

There was a stubborn set around Lan Zhan’s mouth, and Wei Ying suddenly found himself smiling. He wasn’t sure if he should call it fortune or misfortune, but this Lan Zhan was clearly an incredibly stiff man with very strict notions of propriety, to the point where he involved himself into the affairs of others.

“Ah, Lan-gege,” Wei Ying sighed. “Not to say I’m not very grateful for your help, which I am, but let me assure you that you have officially fulfilled your obligations and are free to leave. You have already done more than I can ask for. If it is as you say, I have no ill feelings towards you. Feel free to go on with your life, and sorry about the car. I think I need to sleep again, I feel very tired.”

He was, in fact, feeling very tired, and it was getting harder to keep his eyes open by the minute.

Lan Zhan seemed to realise that that was the case. He said his goodbyes, but before he left the room, he announced, “I will come again.”

Wei Ying wanted to object, but Lan Zhan was already gone, and Wei Ying’s eyes were closing.

---

The next few days passed in the monotony of sleeping, check-ups by doctors and nurses, terrible hospital meals, and occasional visits from Lan Zhan.

As handsome as he might have been, at first Wei Ying really didn’t want Lan Zhan to come back again. He quickly learned to be grateful for his frequent visits, however. Staying in the hospital was extremely boring, even with the books that Lan Zhan brought him, and everything was much better once he trained Lan Zhan to bring him spicy snacks.

After a few excessively boring days in bed (more than he cared for, certainly), he was finally allowed to walk around a little in order to regain his strength, and Lan Zhan would take him outside into the garden whenever he visited. Wei Ying was extremely grateful for that, since the nurses didn’t allow him to go alone.

Wei Ying quickly learned on their little excursions that Lan Zhan rarely spoke, but was an extremely attentive listener who would prove said attention in the most unexpected moments. It was almost shocking sometimes; Wei Ying would ramble on about something, and Lan Zhan would suddenly say one thing or another that made clear he had been paying attention when most people would have tuned out already. It was… flattering, to say the least. To have someone pay attention to him so much. Definitely something Wei Ying could get used to.

Lan Zhan was also very attentive to Wei Ying’s physical state. More than once, when Wei Ying felt his own strength lagging, he suddenly found Lan Zhan’s hand at his elbow, steadily and unobtrusively making sure that he didn’t fall over his own clumsy feet. Lan Zhan seemed to know that he needed support almost before Wei Ying himself realised it.

Normally, he would complain about being thought a weakling, but if Wei Ying were honest, he would admit that sometimes, he really needed the support. And well… he couldn’t really bring himself to mind being spoiled by a handsome man. If he were really honest, he would confess that he simply liked Lan Zhan’s hands on him, and any excuse that provided him with an opportunity was good enough, even if he had to play up his weakness.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said when they were on one of their garden excursions one day, eating little cups of mango panna cotta that Lan Zhan had brought with him today on a bench. “I will be released tomorrow. You don’t have to visit me here any longer after today.”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan agreed. “What time?”

“Around ten, I think? Why do you ask?”

“I will pick you up.”

Wei Ying sighed deeply and swallowed the last spoonful of dessert.

“Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan. I can ask a friend to pick me up. You shouldn’t do so many things for me. If you are too nice, people will end up misunderstanding. Well, I will end up misunderstanding. You wouldn’t want that to happen, now would you?”

He directed his best salacious grin at Lan Zhan.

“Nn,” Lan Zhan replied noncommittally. “I will pick you up.”

Wei Ying stared at Lan Zhan for a moment. Could it be that Lan Zhan was that thick? That he didn’t realise what Wei Ying was getting at? Did he have to spell it out for Lan Zhan? That he meant misunderstanding in the sense of kissing and possibly getting naked with each other?

“Lan Zhan, I’m serious,” Wei Ying complained, tugging at Lan Zhan’s sleeve to make him look at him properly. “I will misunderstand.”

Lan Zhan looked at him, and it struck Wei Ying again how beautiful Lan Zhan’s eyes were. He had thought that Lan Zhan was pretty much expressionless when they first got to know each other, but that had been patently untrue. His perpetually serious eyes were the source of so much deeply felt emotion. Everything Lan Zhan felt, he felt with his entire heart. So when Lan Zhan looked at him, Wei Ying automatically felt his pulse speed up and his cheeks start to grow hot. That was the effect Lan Zhan had on anyone he really directed his attention towards.

“I will pick you up,” Lan Zhan repeated once again. Stubbornly, insistently. Mulishly.

Without breaking their line of sight even once. Just serious. And steady.

“Oh,” Wei Ying whispered.

Oh. Lan Zhan didn’t want him to misunderstand. Lan Zhan wanted him to understand.

Wei Ying shot up from the bench they had been sitting on and walked over to the trash can close by, to throw away his empty cup of panna cotta. Lan Zhan followed him, throwing his own cup into the trash. As he did it, he looked about as disquieted as Lan Zhan ever did, but right now, Wei Ying was unable to handle anything.

Could he be right? Did Lan Zhan – that Lan Zhan –

As he stood there, he slightly tilted to the side – and there he was, Lan Zhan was right at his side, steadying him. But right now, Wei Ying didn’t want to be steadied. He leaned further into Lan Zhan’s side, putting most of his weight on Lan Zhan right until his head a found a home in the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” he sighed. “Taking advantage of the weak and injured, I see. Do you always flirt like that? Picking people up at the hospital?”

He looked up at Lan Zhan and smiled.

Lan Zhan didn’t answer, but one of his arms most definitely found its way around Wei Ying’s waist, holding him securely to Lan Zhan’s side. It was… intimate.

It was answer enough.

“This is the part where you’re supposed to say ‘No, Wei Ying is the only one for me,’” Wei Ying pouted.

“Wei Ying is the only one for me,” Lan Zhan intoned seriously.

Wei Ying had to bury his face in his hands and scream a little.

“You can’t say things like that out of the blue!” he complained. “My poor, beaten body won’t be able to take it!”

Then he peeked out between the gaps between his fingers, up at Lan Zhan.

“Say it again.”

 (When Lan Zhan picked him up the next day, he received a kiss for his efforts.)

(One kiss, or many.)

(Who was going to count.)

[rax-writes]

Family Man

Fandom:  MCU Pairing:  Baron Helmut Zemo x OC  [basically a reader insert, because the OC’s physical description isn’t addressed or anything, she just has a name] Warnings:  None Notes:  A Sokovian woman named Irina Molnár was born with the ability to teleport, and in time, she encounters the only man to gain her trust enough to show him. It just so happens that the man in question is the criminal mastermind Helmut Zemo. // So, as I said, it’s an OC but still basically a reader insert; don’t let the OC part deter you if you prefer x reader fics. It just worked better for me on the writing end to use a name, and I have an aversion to using “Y/N,” so I just threw in a pretty name. // TL;DR: Zemo as a dad just kills me & I wanted him to get a second chance at a family.

“I will assist you to the utmost of my ability, on one condition.”

“You’re in no position to be making demands, Zemo.”

“This is both for my own benefit, and yours, I assure you.”

If someone had asked Irina ten years ago where she thought she’d be at this point in life, her answer would have been incredibly far from accurate, for nothing could have predicted the path her life took.

Not that her life had been normal to begin with, being that she was born with the ability to teleport. Sokovia was not exactly a progressive country in the late 1980’s, so her parents had endlessly instructed her to conceal her ability, warning her of the countless dangers of her power being known to others. Her parents were so protective of her that when she teleported as a reflex at age thirteen, after walking along the sidewalk of main street in Novi Grad and a driver fell asleep at the wheel and headed straight for her, they packed up and moved to Russia in the middle of the night. Yet again, the same thing happened at age eighteen, when she was caught up in a hostage situation in a bank and the perpetrator caught her calling the police. Just as he aimed his gun at her and pulled the trigger, she disappeared. Irina and her parents fled to Germany in the dead of night less than twenty-four hours later, and she knew then that she needed to suppress her powers no matter what, being that her father was elderly, and her mother was too ill for them to ever travel again.

So, Irina settled into a normal life in Munich. She worked various odd jobs over the years to support her parents, made and lost a few friends, dated here and there. Her father passed when she was twenty-two, and two years later, her mother joined him. When living in the house where both her parents passed in their sleep became too unbearable, she packed up and moved to Berlin, getting a job at a high-security prison there. Less than a year after she began working there, a newcomer arrived: an inmate by the name of Helmut Zemo.

Being that he knew so much about HYDRA, from his extensive research on them, the American organization SHIELD wished to know more about them. A few psychiatrists and some professional interrogators tried for the first couple months, but they got nothing – quite literally, as he refused to utter a single word to any of them. Irina’s boss knew that she was Sokovian just like Zemo, so she was asked to extract any and all valuable information she could from the new prisoner.

Zemo was an intimidating man; calm, cool, and collected at all times, with eyes like a hawk that bore into Irina’s very soul each time he looked at her. She spent two months talking with him every other day, trying anything and everything she could to get him to talk, but he remained silent. At first, she tried asking him questions outright, but he wouldn’t ever say a word – just stare at her with those cold, calculating eyes. So, Irina changed her approach; they would chat idly in Sokovian to build rapport via their shared mother tongue, or she would ramble about her day, what book she was currently reading, her favorite movies, dates she went on. Those topics got him talking, chatting with her about the miscellaneous subjects she brought up, and both she and her supervisors took it as a good sign. She found that they shared similarities in terms of the loss of their families, and how the destruction of Sokovia hurt them both. Despite how frequently they spoke, he still never revealed anything of importance. After two months, her boss had a few interrogation experts give her some training, so she tried their tactics for another month, but she still got nowhere with him.

Three months after Irina began trying to get intel from Zemo, she sat down in the chair outside his cell, and huffed out a sigh.

“I’m afraid this will be my last visit, Zemo.”

“Why?” His voice held surprise, and a tinge of sadness.

“As you know, they assigned me to visit you for the sake of getting information from you. I’ve been consistently empty-handed over the past four months, so they’re giving up, assigning me back to regular patrol duty.”

“Will I still see you?”

“No. They’re moving me to the women’s side of the prison next week.”

Zemo simply stared at the ground in silence, hands clasped in his lap. Irina allowed the silence to linger for several minutes, then pulled something from her bag, unlocked the small opening on the side of his cell where guards gave him meals, slid the item through, and locked it shut again. He eyed it for a moment before standing and retrieving it, sitting back down on the bed as he looked at it.

“It’s that book I told you about last month, the one you said sounded interesting. Consider it a parting gift.”

He still said nothing, gaze locked on the book cover. Irina cleared her throat and stood, putting her bag on her shoulder as she looked to Zemo one last time.

“It has been nice getting to know you, Zemo. Take care of yourself.”

As Irina pulled open the door to leave, Zemo’s voice called out, “Wait!” She turned to face him and found that he was standing, clenching and unclenching his jaw as if he were thinking, before stating, “Tell your superiors that I will give them one piece of information on HYDRA every two months if you will have lunch with me twice each week.”

Irina’s brows raised in surprise, but she nodded in understanding. “I’ll pass the message along, Zemo.”

“Please… call me Helmut.”

The higher-ups were more than happy to agree to his terms, as long as Irina was okay with them as well, since it involved her. But she wasn't stupid. She told them that it felt like quite an undertaking to agree to such a thing, she had been considering looking for another job in the near future, etcetera. Naturally, they offered to double her pay to persuade her to commit to the arrangement, and it was then that she agreed. In truth, it was no skin off Irina’s nose to do it in the first place. As deranged as it was, Zemo had become her friend, her only friend, and she quite enjoyed talking with him. And even more deranged – bordering psychotic, really – she had developed a bit of a crush on him, finding him to be dangerously handsome and intelligent, so she certainly had no quarrels with agreeing to spend time with him.

Time seemed to fly when Irina began her twice weekly visits to Zemo. She found herself eagerly awaiting their lunches, and she always stayed longer than necessary. She would have rather eaten glass than admit it, but she frequently put a bit more effort into her hair and makeup on the days she would be seeing him.

God, I’m fucking pathetic, Irina thought to herself at least once a week, and yet it never stopped her.

It was another few months later when he said something that made her stomach drop to the pits of hell, and a cold sweat to break out on her skin.

“I know who you are, you know. I have since you first introduced yourself. Irina Molnár, the disappearing girl – at least, that’s what the headlines called you. I remember reading about it when I was a teenager, but the story was forgotten within a week.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Irina replied, but Zemo could hear the quiver in her voice.

“My apologies, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I have no intention of mentioning it to anyone besides you. I have simply been wondering… were the rumors true? Can you really just disappear into thin air?”

When Irina hesitated, he added, “Irina, no one would believe me if I told them, and even if they did, they would have no way to prove it. Besides, we have been acquainted for nearly a year now. You are my only solace in this living hell. I would have gone mad had you not came into my life. I would never do anything to risk you harm.”

She exhaled slowly, and looked at the ground when she said, “It’s not ‘disappearing.’ It’s teleporting.”

Zemo leaned forward in his seat, visibly invested in her confession.

“I’ve been able to do it since I was four. Scared my parents half to death when I suddenly appeared before their eyes, having been across the house mere seconds before. I learned to control it pretty quickly, but that day in Sokovia… I was only ten years old, and a car was coming right at me, full speed, so I panicked. I teleported home right before it crushed me, and it would have been a non-issue if my classmate hadn’t been a few feet away and saw the whole thing. He ran his mouth to the press about my identity, so we had to leave.”

“That was why you moved to Russia, not because your father got a job there,” Zemo realized, remembering when you initially told him about your move and falsified the reasoning.

“Yes. It happened again there, when someone shot at me. No one who was around at the time knew my name, so it never made it to the press, but my parents were overly cautious, so we fled to Germany. I’ve not done it since, besides in the comfort of my own home.”

“Show me.”

“You say stupid things for such a brilliant man, Helmut,” Irina said, nodding toward the camera in the corner of the room.

“After you get home tonight, teleport into my cell.”

“Did you miss what I said about the camera, or…?”

“The camera does not have a view of my bed. It only reaches the middle of my cell, not the very back of it where the bed is,” Zemo pointed out, and Irina realized that he was right. She had been in the camera room several times; the camera there did indeed only show the room and half of his cell, never the bed.

“I’ll think about it.”

Zemo smiled brightly, looking excited, like a little kid about to see a magic trick. That alone was enough to motivate Irina to do it, just for the opportunity to see that smile again. So, when she got home that night, she changed into a flowy, deep green sundress, touched up her makeup and hair, strapped on a nice pair of sandals, and then stood in her living room, hyping herself up to take such a risk.

There was a chance that she would get caught. Teleporting in front of anyone was always a risk, no matter what, her parents had always told her. But then that damned, dashing smile crossed Irina's mind, and before she had time to second-guess herself, she was standing at the foot of Zemo’s bed.

The book he’d been reading flew out of his hands as he practically jumped out of his skin, falling to the ground with a loud whack, and he pressed a palm to his chest as he tried to calm his erratic breathing.

“We really should have scheduled a specific time for your arrival,” he muttered, and Irina laughed softly. Thankfully, the cameras had no sound, but if a guard were passing by outside, they may have heard her. When he caught his breath a moment later, Zemo sat up in the bed, letting his legs hang off the edge as he patted the spot beside him. Irina took a seat, crossing her legs and leaning back on her hands.

“So, you were telling the truth. You can actually teleport,” Zemo observed, eyeing her with amusement and interest before he bombarded her with questions. “Can you teleport anywhere in the world? Are there parameters for your distance or location? How long does it take you to travel from one place to another? What does it feel like?”

“I can teleport anywhere I’ve been to or seen photographs of. I cannot do it blindly. The distance nor location does not matter, as long as I have seen my destination before. And it feels like… a slight tingling sensation, all over my body, but it only lasts until I arrive, which takes about a half second.”

“Fascinating,” Zemo whispered. He licked his lips before asking, “Are you capable of teleporting another individual along with you?”

Irina frowned at him. “I’m not breaking you out of prison, Helmut.”

“I didn’t ask that.”

“No, but you were alluding to it,” she countered, and he shrugged. “I can teleport another individual, but only over small distances. Each time I’ve tried, the most distance I’ve gotten with another person has been about ten yards.”

“Perhaps with practice, you could go further.”

“I practiced for years, and ten yards seems to be the true limit. Besides, the only others who have ever known about my ability were my parents, and since they’re gone, I have no test subjects.”

Zemo nodded solemnly, then asked, “What about teleporting repeatedly, in ten yard increments?”

“Tried that. Can only do it about three times before I’m too drained to do it again. Teleporting back-to-back with another person takes a lot of energy,” Irina answered, then added, “And again, even if I could, I am not breaking you out.”

“I am merely interested in your mutation, that is all,” Zemo retorted. Irina shot him a look that said ‘Really?’ so he relented with, “Perhaps also because I wanted to know if you could break me out, but that’s neither here nor there.”

"That's what I thought."

It was another month before either party made a move. They were sitting on Zemo’s bed, side by side, as Irina told him about her day at work, and the man who'd tried hitting on her in the grocery store earlier that evening.

"He thought he was very Rico Suave, but his execution was a nightmare."

"How so?"

"Well, for starters, he followed me around for nearly ten minutes while he worked up the courage to say something. He waited until I walked past him and greeted me with 'Hey, sexy lady.'"

"Oh no," Zemo said, grinning as he looked genuinely amused at this man's poor tactics, although his amusement was contingent upon whether or not Irina was actually interested in him. The way she poked fun at the man indicated a lack of interest, therefore, he was enjoying her tale.

"Oh yes. He then asked if it hurt when I fell from heaven, which is the most overused line in the book, yet he said it with such confidence. And then – get this – he leaned onto what he thought was a shelf, but it was actually a stacked display of cans, which toppled over and sent a hundred soup cans flying down the aisle."

Zemo chuckled, prompting Irina to continue.

"He played it off by saying that my beauty is just so distracting that he didn't even realize what he was doing, and then asked for my phone number."

"Did you give it to him?"

"Absolutely not," Irina said, laughing softly and shaking her head. Zemo was momentarily entranced by the way her beautiful hair fell around her face, and the sound of her laugh.

"Why not?"

"Not my type."

"What is your ‘type’?"

Irina leaned back on the wall behind her, looking up at the ceiling as she thought carefully. "Confidence, but not cockiness. Intelligence. Wit. Sarcastic senses of humor. Men with a sense of passion to them; some kind of fire and gusto about something, whether it be their work, art, music." She looked over at Zemo then, and allowed her gaze to travel slowly up and down his form. "Currently, my type seems to be men I can't have."

Zemo eyed her carefully, allowing himself to absorb her words fully for several moments. She was describing him – he just knew it. Or, he was too blinded by hopefulness and desire to realize that she wasn’t, but he figured there was only one way to find out. So, he leaned forward, closing the gap between them, and pressed his lips to hers.

Irina hesitated for half a second, surprised by his actions, but she recovered quickly and kissed him back. It was gentle, sweet, and explorative, both parties simply enjoying it while it lasts. Neither had any idea how long it lasted, as time stood still. Zemo was the first to pull away, eyes scanning Irina’s face as he looked at her with sheer adoration, as well as a touch of nervousness.

"I understand if you wish for me to never do that again, and I understand if you'd prefer to never see me again. But please know that I did not do that out of blind lust, or anything other fleeting emotion. I did it because my heart has yearned for you every day since first meeting you, and finally having you here next to me, where I can touch you… it was genuinely unbearable to hold myself back from kissing you. I have not felt anything like this since losing my wife, and I did not think my heart was capable of ever feeling it again. But you proved me wrong. I know I am risking an end to the only true human contact I have while trapped inside this cell, which truly frightens me, but the unyielding desire to tell you that I love you overpowers that fear."

Irina stared at him in shock for a few moments, before leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes. She exhaled slowly as she collected her thoughts before speaking. "Helmut… I love you, too, but I don't know how this would even work. You're never getting out of here. How can we have any kind of relationship when you're locked in a cell for the rest of your days?"

"We will make it work, my darling," Zemo said, sitting up straighter and turning to face her. "I will ensure that we mimic a true relationship as much as possible. I cannot wine and dine you as I would like to do, but I can easily bribe the guards to have lavish meals brought here for us to share on evenings such as these. I cannot take you out for birthdays or anniversaries, but I will ensure that you are showered with gifts on those days. My angel, I cannot give you a normal life, but I can promise to endlessly strive to make you happy."

Irina stared deeply into his eyes for what felt like an eternity, and she saw nothing but genuity, longing, and adoration there. She could feel the sincerity in his words, feel how desperately he wished for her to agree to his proposal. She was no fool; she knew that their relationship would be a struggle, and she knew that it would never be any resemblance of normal. But she also knew that he made her heart soar in a way no other man ever had, and that she would die feeling like she missed out on something incredible if she walked away from Zemo now.

“Okay,” Irina whispered, mostly to herself, before repeating it in a stronger, more self-assured voice. “Okay.”

For a man who always knew what to say, Zemo was at a loss for words, overcome with joy. He simply cupped her cheek and kissed her, far more passionately than before, allowing his triumphant and ecstatic feeling to flow through the kiss. Irina gripped the front of his sweatshirt in her fists, melting into him, before wrapping her arms around his neck as his free hand moved to rest on the curve of her waist.

Ages had passed by the time they broke apart, foreheads resting against each other as they fought to catch their breaths. Irina was the first to break the comfortable silence they created, laughing quietly in disbelief at the events that had just transpired. Zemo followed suit, a deep, velvety chuckle bubbling up from his chest. He pressed another kiss to her lips before leaning back and looking at her. They gazed at each other in sheer contented bliss for a few moments more, before Irina became the first to speak.

“I love you, Helmut.”

“And I love you, darling.”

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

The sound of the front door opening caused Irina to immediately look up from the book she'd been reading. She frowned, then stood and headed for the door as quickly as possible, calling out, "Nikolai! You know better than to open that door, young man!" When she reached the entryway, she stopped dead in her tracks.

There stood Helmut, wearing the softest, sweetest smile she'd ever seen as he opened his arms to her. She hesitated a moment, unsure whether or not it was real, before he murmured, "Hello, my love." His voice – that alluring raspy undertone, and the gentleness it took on as he spoke to her – broke Irina from her trance, and she ran to him and into his arms, careful of her rounded belly.

Zemo stroked her hair and held her, and her arms around his neck gripped him like a vice, to the point that it hurt a little, but he'd never tell her that. A small sob fell from Irina's lips before she even realized she'd started crying, and he whispered sweet nothings in her ear in Sokovian to soothe her, about how much he loved her and how happy he was to see her. When her crying quieted down a bit, he pulled away to kiss her, a kiss full of love and longing. When he broke the kiss a few moments later, she stroked his cheek lovingly, and he wiped the stray tears from her eyes.

"How are you here? What happened?" Irina asked, and only then did she notice the two men standing awkwardly by the doorway, their faces a mixture of suspicion and surprise. "Who are they?"

"They are the men who helped me escape. James was previously known as the Winter Soldier, and Sam is currently known as the Falcon, an Avenger."

Irina raised an eyebrow at him. "But… you… the Avengers… the Winter Soldier…."

"I know, I know. I am just as surprised as you are, but they need me for something, something very important."

"The Flag Smashers? I saw them on the news. They have Super Soldiers somehow."

"Yes, darling, exactly right. We'll find them, defeat them, and I'll be back before you know it."

Irina understood the implication of his words. He'd be back, but whether that would be in her home or in his cell was yet to be determined. But she knew him. She knew that he would not take his newfound freedom as a one-time opportunity. A storm of thoughts about what that would mean for them flashed through her mind, but Zemo’s hands on her stomach snapped her out of it.

"How is our daughter?" he asked, gently rubbing Irina’s baby bump, a bright smile blooming when the child inside kicked at his hands, as she always did. She had only been in existence for seven months, and she wasn't even born yet, but she already favored him over her mother.

"She's good, she's been moving around a lot today, as if she knew her Daddy was coming," Irina replied, earning a grin from Zemo. "The doctors told me this morning that her heartbeat is strong and she appears to be the picture of health."

"Good, good. And what about –"

"DADDY!" a tiny voice bellowed from down the hall, and they turned to see a small boy running full speed toward Zemo. Irina stepped back to allow him a clear passageway, smiling as Helmut crouched down to meet him, enveloping the boy in an embrace as he collided with his father's chest.

"Nikolai, I've missed you," Zemo stated, rubbing the boy's back as he stood, still holding his son. Irina caught the way her husband's voice wavered when he said that, and she laid a comforting hand on his back.

"I've missed you too, Daddy. Are you living with me and Mommy now?" Nikolai asked, leaning back in his father's arms to gaze at him with excitement plain on his face. Zemo gave him a smile, but Irina could see the sadness in it, knowing the future was uncertain.

"Not quite, buddy. Just here for a visit," Zemo replied, and Irina rubbed his back comfortingly before pressing a kiss to their son's temple.

Their family time was interrupted by Sam clearing his throat loudly, and when Zemo turned to face him, his smile faded.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Zemo, you've got some explaining to do, and not much time to do it. Don't forget we're on borrowed time here."

"Right," Zemo confirmed, then exhaled slowly. "James, Sam, this is my wife Irina and our son Nikolai…. He is five, and Irina is seven months along."

Confusion washed over both men's faces, and they exchanged a glance before the other, James, was the first to speak.

"But… you've been in prison for eight years. Have you been escaping every few years and no one's noticed?"

"I have not left my cell in eight years, consecutively. But my wife is capable of getting into my cell as often as we wish."

"So, what? You've just been having conjugal visits all the damn time? And the prison staff green-lit that?" Sam asked.

"No, not exactly," Zemo answered, then glanced at Irina. They shared a look before she explained further.

"I can teleport. I met Helmut when I was tasked with extrapolating information about HYDRA from him, and he refused to share anything unless the prison staff agreed to let him meet with me twice a week, just to chat, in which case he'd give them tidbits of information bi-monthly. They agreed, and before long, I revealed my ability to him. I'd visit him in his cell occasionally, because the cameras only show half of it. Over time, well… we fell in love. Nikolai came a few years later, and now…" Irina trailed off, then rubbed a hand over her pregnant belly.

"Why didn't you ever bust him out?" James asked.

"I can only teleport small distances with another person, and I can only do it twice at the most, so we'd have never made it off the grounds."

James and Sam were silent for a moment, absorbing the information they'd been given. Sam was the first to break the silence.

"Zemo, you said this little pitstop would benefit me and Bucky. But it's not like she can go with us," he said, sounding a bit irritated as he gestured towards Irina’s stomach. "So what the hell was the point?"

"It does benefit you. You now possess the knowledge that a teleporter exists. Congratulations," Zemo said dryly, then looked at his wife and son for a moment, before returning his attention to the men. "Sam, the point was that I lost my family when Sokovia was destroyed, and the family I have now has only ever seen me inside a prison cell. I wanted my son to have at least one memory of his father in his home with him."

James – no, Bucky, apparently – and Sam exchanged a look, before Bucky sighed and looked to Zemo.

"You have one hour. Sam and I will be guarding the exits, so don't try to escape. If you do…." He trailed off after glancing at Nikolai. "Let's just say it won't be pretty."

True to their word, Sam and Bucky remained stationed outside the home, one out front and one out back. Zemo milked that hour as much as possible, spending most of it in his son’s room with him and Irina, listening intently to Nikolai tell him all about what’s been going on at school, his favorite shows, the trip he took to the zoo the day before with Irina, etc.. He even told Zemo about each and every one of his toys, simply enjoying talking to his dad, and although Zemo was the one to send almost every one to him, therefore he already knew about them, he didn’t mention that. He simply listened intently as his son spoke, enjoying the quality time with him, exchanging smiles and occasional kisses with Irina. She showed him the nursery she’d been working on for their daughter, and he finished putting together the crib she’d started, Nikolai happily handing him parts and screws as needed. Zemo also moved the dresser and changing table to where she’d wanted them but couldn’t move them herself, then they settled into the living room shortly before the hour was up.

Sam and Bucky reentered the house to find the family sitting around the coffee table, playing a game of Jenga. They stood silently in the doorway to the living room, watching as Nikolai carefully drew a block from the tower before placing it back on the top with a triumphant look on his little face. Zemo commended his concentration, then drew a block himself, although he intentionally wiggled it a little so that the tower came toppling down.

“I won! Daddy, I won!”

“Yes, you did, my son. Excellent job,” Zemo said warmly, then glanced at Sam and Bucky before scooping the boy up into a tight hug. “Daddy has to go now, but I will see you again soon.”

“Do you have to go?”

“I’m afraid so. But I need you to promise me something before I leave. Take care of your mom for me, will you?”

“I will, I promise.”

“Good boy,” Zemo said with a smile, then kissed Nikolai’s forehead and set him down. Zemo stood and helped Irina stand up, hugging her tightly as he buried his face into her neck. Quietly, so that no one but her could hear, he said, “I will not be going back to prison unless there is no other way, but know that yours and our children’s safety is my utmost concern.”

“I know, Helmut,” Irina whispered back, and he pressed a long, lingering kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, my angel,” Zemo murmured against her lips, then stooped down to hug his son again. “And I love you, Nikolai.”

“I love you, too, Daddy,” the boy responded, and the way his voice quivered as he choked back tears broke his parents’ hearts into a million pieces. Reluctantly, Zemo let him go and he wrapped his arms around his mother’s leg, resting his head against her as he sniffled and she rubbed his back.

“Be safe, sweetheart,” Irina commanded.

Zemo nodded to her before walking over to join Sam and Bucky. With one last heartbroken look at his family, he left, closing the door behind him as he let out a shaky breath. He didn’t meet the other men’s eyes as he walked over to the car, and after they all piled in, they drove in silence to the airport, off to their next stop in Madripoor.

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

@henrysmorgan​ @clints-lucky-arrow​ @therenlover​