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ateliersss · 1 year ago

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Blooming Family Part 2 - He Is Here

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: After Akail freed himself and then you from your captors, you both had only one thing on your mind — to return home where his father and your mate was waiting for you. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 4.768 Part 1: here Masterlist

⇨ I started making it, tried my best, had a break down, then I listened to Lana Del Rey and my brain started working again. This is the result. I hope I didn't fail your expectations and you like it anyway.

⇨ Also, did you ever actually listen to their clicking/purring noises? Because I DID!

⇨ Want to join the tag list?

Fresh air, the rustling of leaves on the surrounding trees, the moonlight, even the hooting of an owl — you never thought you would appreciate these things the way you did right now.

Especially now as your son was holding you tightly in his arms, running away, leaving the facility site behind. You had already put quite a distance between here and there and yet you could still hear the blaring alarm of their security system.

To distract yourself, you focused on the safe embrace of Akail's strong arms, watched the surroundings passing by, and listened to the sounds he made. He tried to calm you down, but since you couldn't understand any of his words, this attempt failed.

The one thing you didn’t want to focus on was the blood.

The alarm went off while you were still stuck in this awful white room with that strange woman, announcing that your son had broken free. Immediately you were yanked out of the room and into the corridor, not caring that moving was difficult for you. The woman had tried to persuade the two men to be more careful, but they just ignored her and didn't stop dragging you roughly with them.

The grip they had on you was painful, the flickering lights and the alarm agitated you even more, and the fact that you didn't know what they were going to do to you, now that an angry alien was on the loose, frightened you.

You thought about the consequences of what you were about to do. Since you couldn't imagine anything worse than what you had already experienced, you just did it. You screamed. You screamed for your son in hopes he would hear you.

One of the men holding you pulled your thrashing body towards him to have a better hold on you, to silence you. You didn't stop fighting and even bit his fingers to stop him from restraining your voice.

You both stopped struggling with each other when suddenly a bloodcurdling roar erupted from behind you.

The small group turned around and encountered the looming figure of Akail. He had found you, like the clever boy he was.

Admittedly, it had been quite a sight. His body trembled with fury, his back arched and his mandibles flared. The armor and equipment that had been taken from him were now back in his possession and on his body. Even from this distance, you could see the blood as if he had bathed in it.

Blood, that was now also on the hideous white suit you were wearing.

Out of fear, and maybe it really just had been a reflex, the man holding you pushed you away.

Luckily — more or less, depending if you were either the big, enraged alien or the tiny, terrified human — you landed on your knees and the hand outstretched trying to catch you, the other hand wrapped around your swollen belly as an instinctive protective mechanism. The impact hurt, but at least your pup remained unharmed.

It had been the wrong thing to do, really. Watching someone hurt you and thus possibly his unborn brother drove him feral. All it took was one tearful look from you and he charged for your captors.

You scrambled to the wall and out of his attack zone. Closing your eyes, you only listened as one by one died in one painful way or another.

You were used to the most obscure, disgusting, and repulsive corpses as you and your mate occasionally went on hunting trips at home. However, the whole situation — from you being captured, the imprisonment, you not knowing what had happened to your son and how he was doing, to the present moment — had pushed you to your limit.

When the helpless pleas and painful screams finally died down, you felt two big hands picking you up. You buried your face into his strong chest, preventing you from catching even a second's glimpse of the bloody masses around you.

It was over, you tried to compose yourself.

Akail was still running, not faltering once. His mind was set on one thing and one thing only — getting you to the safety of your Scout Ship.

Soon you reached a familiar river and a clearing. Your tensed shoulders relaxed when you saw the huge outline of it. The human may have said that they had found the ship, but it was still there where you had left it. Apparently, they had made no move yet to transport it to their base.

You sighed happily. It meant one step closer to home.

Although you were now in safe surroundings, Akail did not put you down and carried you until you reached the belly of the ship where he kept his weapons and gear such as his masks and armor. You smiled up at him when he seated you on top of the huge workbench occupying the middle of the room where he normally repaired or worked on his equipment. The glass surface cooled your adrenaline-heated skin.

Akail exited the room while you settled into a more comfortable position, legs dangling slightly as you looked down at your baby bump and stroked it. You closed your eyes and listened to your inner voice. There was no pain, no other feeling close to discomfort that should worry you. In fact, you felt your sweetling kick against your hand.

You heard the well-known clicks of Akail, announcing you weren’t alone anymore. He was back, holding familiar gadgets in his hands. One of them were two earpieces that translated every spoken word of a Yautja in real-time. They were created especially for you and practically disappeared when you wore them, making your ears appear perfectly normal as if they weren't even there. The other gadget was a tight-fitting necklace made out of black metal with silver accents that translated your words into the Yautja language.

Their technology did wonders. The way both things worked was way beyond your comprehension.

The moment the earpieces were in your ears and the necklace was around your neck, Akail asked, “Mother, how you feeling?”

Thanks to the workbench, you were more or less at eye level so you could put a hand on his cheek, your thumb stroking the scale-like skin, as he nuzzled into it. “I’m fine, my little warrior.” You reassured him.

You felt his clawed hand gently press against your stomach.

You chuckled. “Yes, your little mei’hswei is fine, too.” As if to confirm your words, your pup started to kick against his brother's hand. “See?”

Akail shook his head, the clicking sounds growing urgent.

You sighed. “I promise, as soon as we arrive home I will go to Cahrein. He will survey me to confirm that everything is fine.”

That seemed to soothe him as he nodded. “Good.”

You smiled up at him and cupped his cheeks to pull him closer so you could reach his forehead to place a gentle kiss there. He immediately started making a purring noise. You had to suppress a laugh at that reaction. Instead, the smile on your lips widened.

No matter how many trophies he owned, demonstrating he was a killing machine, no matter that he was the son of a clan leader, no matter that he was Blooded, showing his level of maturity — he was still your little boy who sometimes longed for the comfortable and safe embrace of his mother’s arms.

At this moment, Akail felt like he was set back into the time when he was just a pup. It actually happened every time his mother showered him with affection.

When he was a Youngling, barely reaching your hip, some of the Un-Blooded — all still immature and not yet careful with their words like teenagers in their puberty on Earth — had harassed him about his non-Yautja part even though he was the pure image of his father, no indicator that he was partly human.

Already in his young years, he had developed a need to protect you. As soon as even one of them mentioned either your name or the word ooman, he landed the first punch which had degenerated into a fight which he mostly lost with his smaller size and his little combat experience compared to theirs. He lied to you about how he got the injuries when you tended to them. He didn’t want to worry you, didn’t want to tell you how those stupid, thoughtless Un-Blooded had disrespected you.

As he grew older and bigger, his father training him hard, the harassment stopped and turned into more friendly, harmless teasing coming from his friends and those with whom he had trained for the initiation hunt. They didn’t dare to treat you any other way than the mate of the Clan Leader deserved to be treated — with respect, obedience, acceptance, and appreciation. You were who you were, but with the things you've done in your years since arriving on Yautja Prime, you'd proven yourself.

From his friends, he had learned that Yautja mothers stopped pampering their pups the second they touched a weapon to train to be hunters.

“Too much coddling and spoiling love made you soft.”

That’s what every Youngling grew up with, but here he was. He was one of the strongest, one of the most determined, and one of the most promising Yautja in his clan, maybe even on his planet. Expectations were high considering who his father was and he would one day be following in his huge (figurative) footsteps, which he hoped to eventually fill.

And all that with a human who never stopped showing him her motherly love since the day he was born.

He was proud you were his mother, thankful, never ashamed. He would never dare to feel any different about you, not when you had stood against all odds to carry him in your belly and fought against death to give birth to him. That made you stronger than any other Yautja mother and he would never think about trading you to be pureblooded.

While his father forged him into a great and powerful fighter, showed him to be strong-willed, hard-working, and brave — the typical journey for Yautja to become hunters and respectable members of a clan — you had taught him mercy, thoughtfulness, and compassion. You tried to teach him at least a few things that were of great value on Earth, things that demonstrated that his mixed genetic heritage made him much more diverse than others.

“I’m going to contact your father to tell him we will be home soon.” You suddenly said.

Akail stepped aside to make room for you to get off the working bench. He offered you a hand when you started to struggle with the height of it and gently helped you to get your feet on the solid metal ground of the ship. While you waddled to your quarters, he turned to the door leading to the cockpit to start the engines and finally get off this damn planet.

The ship was built in such a way that you didn't even feel it take off a few seconds later while you pressed the right buttons to reach your mate. With one hand on your stomach, you turned around and encountered the holographic image of Mi'ytiar being projected into the center of the room by a device built into the ceiling.

You let out a shaky but happy breath. “My love.” You greeted him with a relieved smile as he reached out to place his large hand on the side of your face, the palm on your cheek and his clawed fingers in your hair.

Normally you would lean into his touch, but since that hand was only a projection, you kept your head still to at least give him the illusion that you were standing in front of him.

You wished you were standing in front of him. You longed for him. You missed him so, so much.

You watched his beautiful eyes dart over your face and then to the strange cloth you were wearing, looking for any signs that indicated the blood on it was yours.

“Yawne, what happened?” He demanded, his voice hard but concerned.

You bit your lower lip, already anticipating his reaction.

Mi'ytiar was calm and composed when it came to sticky situations, but his temper quickly overwhelmed him when it came to you. Last time he had challenged an Elder of all people who simply had handled you with more strength than necessary, completely forgetting that humans were far frailer than his kind. It had been merely an accident, but it had turned into a disaster.

So the first thing you wanted to do was to reassure him as you said, “I’m fine.”

His mandibles flared, a hiss escaping his lips. “What happened?”

You sighed. “Humans. They captured Akail.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “They used the control on his arm to find the ship.” You paused for a moment and sighed. “I left it for some fresh air. They found me outside and brought me to the same facility they took our son to.”

Predicting his answer, you forestalled him before he could even open his mouth. “No! Don’t say it.” You hissed.

Mi'ytiar straightened his slightly bent position towards you in surprise. He looked at you with his head cocked to his side, not breaking the intense eye contact.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally relented and lowered his head. The gesture always made you feel powerful. It meant submission; only with you, never others.

Proud of yourself, you squared your shoulders and held your head high.

Sometimes there were small disagreements between you and your mate, but instead of arguing, you both only looked at each other while a silent battle was fought between your gazes. Mi'ytiar always backed down first, secretly loving your dominance, but also cursing your stubbornness.

You were his Life Mate, the human female he treated as his equal. Completely fascinated and smitten by your softness and loving nature, he was wrapped around your finger and would bend to your will. You had a certain power over him and you loved it, knowing that a being like him was capable of acting this way.

“I know I should have listened to you. You told me to stay within the safety of the ship and I should have listened to you. But I didn’t and I put our pup in danger. I’m sorry, tanhì.” You admitted, looking up at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Akail?”

“He freed himself and then me.” You answered, before adding in a whisper, “He killed everyone.”

His mandibles clicking, he said, “Good.” before eyeing the suit sullenly.

Mi'ytiar didn’t mind seeing you bloody. In fact, there had been times when the prey the two of you had been hunting together had bled all over you, which had aroused him to the point where he had just grabbed you and fucked you on the forest floor.

But he didn’t like this, not at all. The color wasn’t right. It was too red, too human. The possibility that it could be yours worried him far too much.

But it wasn’t yours. You had told him so and deep down he knew that, but it made him feel unsettled nonetheless.

In the meantime, you watched him and the hardly noticeable change in his eyes. He was very caring, something you loved the most about him, so you planned on putting him at ease when you reached behind you to open the suit. The light fabric slipped down your body and gathered at your feet. You stepped out of it and kicked it away with your foot.

Now you stood in front of him in all your naked glory. Your plan must have worked, because he didn’t hesitate to step forward and engulf your now much more visible stomach with his clawed hand. His infatuation with your pregnant body was beyond you.

Three months into your first pregnancy, a neighboring clan visited yours for feasts and a hunt. There you got to know a woman named Vulpine, the first human you ever met on Yautja Prime. She was soon to be mated with her Yautja who had only recently decided to commit himself fully to her, thus renouncing any sexual or even romantic relationship with other females. That’s how the concept of being Life Mates worked, after all.

You pestered her with questions. Not only how long she had been here, how she was coping with life on this strange planet and who her Yautja was, but also how he treated her in a pregnant state. Turns out, the only Yautja who was that infatuated with his mate being pregnant was Mi'ytiar.

Another thing was that he had been over the moon when you had finally voiced out your wish to carry his pup. He had taken such great care of you during your pregnancy, coddling you, literally hovering over you, not letting you out of his sight.

You had always wondered why he had been acting this way — maybe it was due to the fact that you were human and therefore you and your body were just different — but you never thought it was necessary to actually question him about it.

After a while you said, “We’ll be home soon, my love.”

“Good.” Mi'ytiar replied, nodding. “I will await you.”

And that’s what he did.

As soon as the ship landed, the ramp extended and the door opened, you saw Mi'ytiar standing there, waiting. You didn’t even hesitate to rush to him. He responded by lowering himself to one knee and reaching out to you, catching you when you threw yourself into his arms.

His mandibles clicked happily when he finally could touch you again and feel his unborn pup. He had missed you both so dearly. To be closer to his little one, he made himself even smaller, almost sitting on the floor, and pressed his forehead on your stomach while one hand rested on your hip and the other on the back of your thigh. Purring, he enjoyed the familiar closeness to his sweetling.

You were a mess, bursting with emotions — those goddamn pregnancy hormones — as you ran your fingers through his dreadlocks, felt their warmth and fleshy texture, and played with one of the golden rings Mi'ytiar used to style it, as you liked to call it.

While the two of you were completely engaged with each other, not caring what happened around you, you hadn't noticed how your son had also eventually left the ship to join the both of you.

“Father.” Akail greeted, announcing his presence.

Mi'ytiar lifted his head before pulling away from you to stand up. As was customary for Yautja, he placed a hand on Akail's shoulder in greeting and shook it slightly. Then he grabbed his son’s upper arms with his hands, Akail did the same, and they both put their foreheads together. They stayed like that for a moment before pulling away to talk.

You didn’t feel like you had to listen to them, so you didn’t, but you watched them with a smile. There stood your favorite people in the universe, your family, your whole world.

Soon, Mi'ytiar turned around and made his way back to you. Before you could say anything, he put one arm under your armpits and one under your knees, lifting you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you away, knowing him to Cahrein, the healer.

You liked Cahrein and the feeling was mutual. He was responsible for tending to the wounded and sick, helped the females during their pregnancies and birth, provided ingredients, and maintained tools for the Medicomp when Yautja went on off-world hunts.

He was rather serious and professional, but you could see the curious excitement when Mi'ytiar first had brought you to him. You were a whole different species to him, something new he could learn about.

It was nothing unusual for your mate to accompany you on your check-ups, so Cahrein thankfully didn’t ask any questions, only saying a word when he confirmed what you had already told both, the father and brother of the pup — everything was fine.

That was all Mi'ytiar needed to know before he dragged you away and to your home where he shed you of your clothes and fucked you like a wild animal that was starved of your touch, sating his needs.

It felt like hours had passed when your sweaty and naked body slumped back against Mi'ytiar's torso, exhausted and fully satisfied. Mi'ytiar nuzzled into the hair on the back of your head.

While you were still trying to catch your breath, he regarded the bite mark he had left on your shoulder out of the corner of his eye. The sharp tips of his mandibles had broken into the skin on the front and back of your upper arm, your shoulder blade, and the spot of your chest where your heart was still beating frantically. Meanwhile, his teeth had dug into the edge of your shoulder, making it bleed.

You squirmed in his lap when he licked the dried blood to clean you.

When he was done, he gently took a hold of your hair to put it over your shoulder and out of the way. His eyes fixed on the second bite mark. This one he had placed on the nape of your neck. When he was done cleaning you there too, he chattered happily, proud that he had so evidently marked you as his own.

You tilted your head back to look at him. “What?”

“It never was able with other female.” He said, “Marking.”

You tensed at that before you lowered your head with your lips pressed together. You knew you were acting like a child when he placed his index and middle finger on your cheek to turn your head to look at him, but you stubbornly refused to do so. You even leaned forward to break the skin contact between your back and his torso. You had to bite your bottom lip to stifle a moan as his cock was still inside you, keeping his seed where it belonged. Even in its now soft state, it was still able to send pleasure down your spine.

Although you knew that only some Yautja were permanently bonded to each other and most of them had several mating partners, you had totally forgotten that he, of course, had been with other females before you. In fact, you had never really thought about it. The thought had never occurred to you as he had always been completely devoted to you.

Irrational jealousy took hold of you. Of course, it was completely normal for one’s partner to have been with others before you. That's how it worked on Earth, too. Nothing special, nothing unusual, and yet you hated it.

You had been 26 when Mi'ytiar took you with him. A year earlier you had broken up with a boy you had been dating for two years, and you had a few one-night stands before and after that. You had never cared about their former partners.

Now you did.

“What is it, yawne?”

“Nothing.” You mumbled, your lips twisted into a defiant pout. “It’s just… I never thought about other females having you like this.” You were still facing away from him as you continued, “It makes my blood boil knowing someone else has had you before me.”

A strange possessive feeling surged through you as you turned around to look him straight in the eye. “You are mine, only mine.” You said before turning back around, resulting in you not noticing him almost bursting with pride.

You were lost in your thoughts, completely missing his low, rumbling laugh. He thought you were adorable like this, secretly wallowing in your possessiveness. It made him happy, knowing he was able to elicit such feelings from you.

The next thought you voiced out was one you had back in the days when you still felt unworthy as the Life Mate of the great Mi'ytiar. “It makes me question why you chose me of all people to be bound to you forever and to bear you pups, something I never even thought would be possible. They easily could have given them to you.”

Now that you said it out loud, you realized one thing in horror — pups.

Pups with other females. His pups with other females. His pups with someone that wasn’t you. How did you never think about that too?! He never had mentioned them, not that you knew, but if…

“They could not.” Mi'ytiar interrupted your panicking thoughts.

“What?” You turned your upper body to look at him, his honest eyes looking back.

With his help, you fully turned around in his lap to face him without losing the closest, most intimate connection you both still had; between your legs. He placed his hands on your waist to pull you as close as your stomach would allow.

“I provide for clan in many ways. I am leader. I lead, I protect and I care for them. It is honorable to strengthen clan with pups. Only my seed never took. No female carried my pup. It was shameful to not provide clan with pups. Especially as leader.”

He paused to play with a loose strand of your hair. His fascination with it wasn’t something you couldn’t quite understand, but you didn’t mind.

“When you and I met, you was what I wanted. Objections were made when I dedicated my being to you, but I did not care. I could not provide with pups anyway.” He told you. “I forgot about them. I only wanted you, yawne.”

“I only wanted you, too.” You replied, smiling up at him. “Do you remember when we became Life Mates and you introduced me to a group of females so they could teach me more about the planet, the clan, the dynamics in it, and such? They taught me all the things the mate of a clan leader needed to know.”

One of those had been the mating act. You laughed quietly when you thought back to your reaction as they told you that fighting for submission was something like foreplay to them. First, the male had to succeed before the mating act could start. It certainly explained why Mi'ytiar had been confused the first time you had sex.

The affection and trust you had for him had been finally big enough that you decided to get involved with him in a more intimate way. Until then he had waited for you to give him permission to mate with you. You would never have credited him with such patience, but you hadn’t been the only one who had learned about his kind. While you took your time to get used to your new life, he had also learned about humans.

Not enough apparently because he had looked at you in astonishment like you were broken when you had just let him take off your clothes — clothing that was based on the Yautja style, made of leather, fur and, after a short trip back to Earth, thankfully also soft cotton — and you let him manhandle you.

But you did snap at him when he had been too rough and you had needed more time to get used to this new feeling. After your first time together it was your turn to teach a Yautja about you; about the female body and what it needed before he could ravish you, how he could pleasure it and take care of it.

“One of the females was pregnant at that time.” You continued, “And I wanted that, too. I wanted to carry your pup.”

“And you did, yawne.” Mi'ytiar purred. “Made me so happy when you told me you wanted my pup.” He turned your body to sit sideways on his lap, so he could pull you in with one hand for a cuddle while the other rested on your belly. “You gave what no female could. Proof I am not failure.” He nuzzled into the side of your head. “You are parul, my miracle.”

You opened your mouth to tell him that of course he wasn't a failure, but you closed it again, deciding to let him have his moment. Instead, you put your hand on the back of his head and pulled him closer to you.

You both fell into a comfortable silence, only his purring filled the air.

continue with the third part He Shan't Lose

#predator #predator x you #predator x reader #predator x human #yautja x you #yautja x reader #yautja x human

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dovithedarklord · 1 year ago

Text

Age of Monsters - Chapter Six

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

...................................

Author's Note

Leona has a nice adventure in the forest.

Hello!

This chapter has a Trigger Warning! There will be blood, violence, gore, and aggression, so please read accordingly! I know it's in the tags, but I'd rather write it down here too.

Have fun! :D

I.M.L. - Infected mammalian lifeform

if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter Six

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I wipe the drops of sweat forming on my hairline with the back of my hand, and I find it quite surprising that, despite the fact that most of the sun's rays are captured by the foliage of the trees, a clammy warmth sits in the air. Although every elementary school student learns about what a forest is like, what cute little animals lived in it back then, and how it was a home of undisturbed peace, nothing prepared me for how stressful the desolate quietness that settles in it actually is. It's been hours since I set off after my pleasant parting and goodbyes with Riley, and since I haven't encountered a death trap or a bloodthirsty monster panting at my heels just yet, I've had just enough time to think about what led up to my current uninterrupted wandering. Apart from the obvious facts.

And during this time, I’ve run through the long thread of my memories that have been created since I drifted into the unit. The fresh forest air seems to have pushed my brain to the brink of enlightenment, because I slowly began to realize why all of a certain Hunter's verbal attacks had found their target so far. I've had to think a lot about why it irritates me so much that he says the thoughts in my head out loud, other than it makes me feel like I'm not nearly as mysterious as I'd like to seem. And I came to quite surprising conclusions on my little health walk. Now I know what was bothering me until now, and what made me continue to provoke him even though I knew sooner or later his patience would reach its end, and he would show what he could do with those hands. The cold contempt that emanates from him evokes the visceral anger in me that I have successfully suppressed with my pride and arrogance. I never accepted people's one-sided and foolish attempts to anger me, and never allowed my perfect mask to crack and reveal my true thoughts, motivations, and self to others. But for some reason, this man cuts through the walls built over the years like a sharp knife, and every single cold look and disparaging comment is another punch to my stomach. And I know that what makes him different from the bastards who tried me countless times in my life is that I know my repertoire is not nearly enough to challenge him. A seductive smile, a witty remark, or clever manipulation won't be effective enough for him. And this encourages me to be much meaner and take our little game seriously. Because I want to prove to him that he is not better than me. No matter how much he despises me, no matter how he takes on this rigid persona, he is no different than me. He's just as cowardly, vindictive, and petty as I am, so he has no reason to look down on me from his high horse. It urges me to show him that he cannot trample or intimidate me, or chase me away. And nothing verifies my theory more than the fact that he brought me to the very edge of the yellow zone so he could reveal with a survival test, that he is capable of playing dirty to prove his point and to break me, with just as much eagerness as I have tried to sink my little teeth into him and find his weakness until now.

And I'm not so conceited and stupid to not know, that his dislike and doubts about me are not unfounded, and from his point of view it was probably a completely logical decision to take me on this excursion. In addition to the fact that he wants to demonstrate his considerable advantage over me, he also wants to show me that he is not afraid to make tough decisions if it serves the interests of his team. And there is nothing wrong with that, because if I were him, I would also try to get rid of that foul and rather dangerous element who only dropped into his little unit to cause trouble. He probably also considered how much of a disadvantage it would be, if my nifty little ability disappeared following my death, and even after this dilemma he thought it was better to carry out his plan. Because this whole situation can only benefit him. If I die or maybe take flight, then he won't have to endure my constant provocation, my behavior, or my little trick to try to get under his skin every given moment we spend together. Worst case scenario, they will just consume a couple more Healers. If I pass the test, he still expects me to understand the essence of the lesson given to me and finally learn to get in line and do my job without a fucking word.

And in light of this, I might as well just give up. After all, the most obvious decision for me would be to take myself and my little package and head towards the nearest colony. And if karma were to forgive me and I was lucky, I would probably find a group of traders along the way who would take pity on me for a leisurely ride, and voila, I made it. But there is something deep in my subconscious that does not allow me to play with this seemingly realistic plan. Because, when even for a minute it occurs to me to leave behind this sadistic brute and his nice little team, my stomach jumps with an unpleasant tug and the stubborn desire to prove myself is revived. And this pants the thought in the depths of my head, that giving up the adventure is not an option, because that would only confirm what Riley believes. That I am a criminal who continues her spineless hiding from duty and fate, which I have perfected throughout my life. And I don't understand why this would be a problem, since it is the truth. Although of course, I do not agree that I am a coward, but rather opportunistic and selfish, however there is no lie when it comes to the hiding part. And nothing would be simpler than returning to my old habits and continuing my peaceful life, free from monsters, Hunters, and Healer obligations.

Still, I have a motivation that definitely drives me forward, and I have only one goal in mind: to get out of the forest. My burning anger and stubborn resistance to the man might even explain why I want to pass the test so fervently, but it wouldn't be enough of a motive to override my selfishness. Because I have enough sense to choose my priority goals instead of my temper. My highly suicidal idea of escaping is also not entirely to be dismissed, because as a good girl, I would solve it so that I don't end up as monster food until the next safe place. That's why I don't understand what's holding me back from grabbing my belongings and dragging myself as far as humanly possible. I can't fathom what gives me that desperate, hardened determination that drives me forward like a complete idiot. Because it belies my nature not to choose myself.

I fish out the communicator from my pocket with growing irritation, to divert my attention from the sea of thoughts fighting in my head, and I pop up the map of the forest with a few button presses. And as my modest self appears on the hologram with a flashing red dot, I quickly assess how far the safe house can be. The little icon blinks about ten kilometers from me, and at this point, I start to worry about the realization that although my pace is not terrible at all, and I can maybe actually complete this insane mission, still I haven't managed to find a single trap in the last few kilometers. I've been in the thick of the wilderness long enough to know that it would be too tame for a Hunter training site if I didn't encounter any difficulties other than mosquitoes and the ever-increasing heat. And Riley wouldn't have brought me here if he didn't expect me to have to work for survival.

The sun is already high in the sky, and although I still have plenty of time to comfortably force myself through this goddamn jungle, the instinctive tightening that is slowly taking space in my stomach suggests, that this all seems far too easy to not take a turn to the worst in an instant. And I have an inkling that this bad foreshadowing feeling that has just appeared will attract trouble to me like a magnet. That is why I decide not to wait until negative thoughts direct the problems towards me, and continue on my cautious path.

Slipping my communicator back into the protective depths of the pocket on my thigh, I prepare myself to leave, to continue my walk in the direction I had previously located. The twigs and leaves crunching under my boots provide the only background noise for my journey, and instead of easing the anxiety raging in me, it encourages me to examine every square centimeter of the wilderness around me with even greater care. I could be thankful for the fact, that my depressing attention to detail finally diverted my attention from my musings on the motivation to complete the test, but it does not cause me joy that a much more burning and life-threatening paranoia has now taken the place of thoughts analyzing my relationship with the Hunters. And suddenly I start to miss the feeling I experienced during the regeneration, because then finally, if only for a short time, the thoughts that were constantly buzzing in my head disappeared.

And with that, my train of thought jumped back to the starting point again, and I only reward the cunning maneuver of my brain circuits with a rather frustrated sigh. Because it doesn't seem to be able to let go of the bizarre situation I'm in right now. I should flee, I should escape, I should cut and run, but no matter if I say it in a hundred different ways, it doesn't make any sense that I'm still moving toward the fucking finish line. I could try to drift as far away as possible from the whole complicated and unreasonably adventurous life situation I've fallen into in the last month and a half, but I won't. And the voice in the back of my skull keeps whispering in my ear that I can’t fail, because causing disappointment is not an option. But why? Wouldn't everyone's lives be easier if I disappeared? Sure, obviously Laswell and Price would be pretty annoyed at losing an investment that wasn't even close to paying off, but what else? Would it change anything if I didn't return to base?

And the thought that my death or disappearance would not leave any lasting mark on the life of Unit 141 somehow brings back a bitter taste to my tongue. I, too, am surprised by the force with which my chest tightens as the faces of MacTavish and Garrick flash before me, as the fanboy role they played with me is revived with someone else, after I have long since faded into the shadows of the past. Price, too, will continue to play a father figure to his students and toss his wisdom-wrapped praises to others, and he will not waste a single brain cell to maintain my memory. And the possibility that all of this could happen forms a lump in my throat, that threatens to burst out at any minute, and this feeling has been visiting me all too often lately.

And unwillingly, the idyllic moment spent in the gym appears before my mind's eye, and the words that the Hunters spoke at that time echo in my ears more sharply than anything else. I thought a lot about how seriously I could take their little confession, and although I came to the conclusion that I have to treat the whole discourse with skepticism, for some reason, now I want their words to be true more than anything. And for the first time, it enters my head that maybe this has something to do with the fact, that every part of me is protesting with vehement disgust against the idea of running away or failing.

But before I could dig deeper into what I want to say to myself with this, a soft, yet completely different click from the noise of the forest that I have experienced so far hits my ears. And I immediately know why the voice sounds so suspicious, because a can-like object suddenly emerges from the ground, which almost instantly presents me with its contents. Thick smoke is released around me with a speed that in all likelihood defies the laws of physics, and I am suddenly unable to move even a muscle out of shock. My eyes begin to burn excruciatingly almost right away as the first suffocating clouds of smoke reach me, and I instinctively close them, but it's too late, because the stinging pain brings tears to my eyes. Everything becomes blurry in front of me in an instant, as the mixture of smoke and increasing tears fills my vision, and when the pleasant surprise of the first trap I found in the forest reaches my lungs, in the middle of a coughing fit, I try to pull myself together and flee somewhere to escape from the fog of toxic fumes around me. No matter how much I pull my turtleneck up to my nose, it doesn't calm the stomach acid pooling in my throat, which, as a result of my very enthusiastic suffocation, is about to make its way to the outside world after flaying the top layer of my esophagus. And then I know that I didn't push the sinister feeling far enough, and finally, the traps I've been missing so fervently have made their appearance.

Ignoring the stinging pain in my eyes and throat, I stumble forward, and after a few excruciating seconds, I start running, because the reflex of flight that awakens in me works much faster and more efficiently than logic. And soon the decision that it is a good idea to continue walking blindly revenges itself, because my ankle gets stuck in something in the next few meters. It doesn't take much intelligence to grasp that I met a rope with one of my pretty legs, and when something on the tree sprawling in front of me snaps with a cracking sound, I don't even have the time to register what's happening. The thing whizzes over my head at an amazing speed, and I can only thank my modest height that the unexpected attack only brushed my ponytail and didn't help my head to degrade into a smashed melon. But with the unstoppable tears coming from my eyes, I don't have a chance to defend myself against the next surprise coming my way, and I immediately feel what it was that I narrowly avoided before. All of a sudden, all the air is forced out of me, as the rod freed from the trap meets my chest with brutal force, and I fall back on the damp ground, staggered by the force of the impact. I don't even notice how loudly my head hits the hardened layer of mud on the ground, because the pain shooting across my ribs cuts through my body as if a tank had rammed into me. For a minute, I'm unable to breathe because of the ache, which pulsates with persistent force, immobilizing all my limbs, and then I begin to gape silently with the elegance of a fish, hoping that the stupor caused by the agony will soon subside and I won't accidentally suffocate from shock.

Tiny colored spots float into my field of vision, and it takes me a moment to understand that I've probably acquired a very nice potential concussion in addition to the broken ribs. And minutes pass until the nausea finally somewhat lessens, and I am able to wriggle myself into a fetal position with slow and clumsy movements. My disoriented mind tries to understand the series of previous events, but the throbbing ache spreading through my body does not let my mind clear itself. That's why the movement is reflexive, with which I try to soothe the consequences of the assault on me, and as one of my hands crawls under the thick material of my turtleneck and smooths over the line of my ribs, following the gentle touch of my fingers, another wave of nausea runs through me. I forcefully swallow the bursting acid, because somewhere in the depths of my mind I know that I cannot waste my chances of survival by releasing the contents of my stomach and becoming dehydrated by that. Clenching my teeth, I press my palm to the place where the rod hit, and I can almost see in front of me how my skin little by little starts to glow in angry red and purple colors. Gathering all my remaining concentration, I push the small waves of my energy under my fingers, and as the sparks pulsing desperately all over my body gather there, I let out a relieved sigh. Slowly but surely, the stinging aching under my palm subsides, as my clever little skill does its best to solder the broken bones together and heal the bruised tissues and muscles. I also send a small pulse of energy towards my skull, because the pain still dully throbs there. And as soon as the crippling suffering that kept my body immobile and my brain in a hazy confusion alleviates, I find the ability to think again.

The smoke is already beginning to clear, and as it rises into the sky between the leaves, it blocks the path of the sun's rays breaking through the leaves. The whole unfortunate situation could hardly have lasted more than a few moments, but it knocked me off my feet with cruel efficiency, and I have to admit that the garbage of a person who set up the trap knew what they were doing. If it weren't for my rather useful gift, I would almost certainly pass out and spend the afternoon here having a pleasant siesta. And although a Hunter would probably have suffered less damage than me, it would have effectively slowed them down as well. But I don't have the time or desire to let some forest booby trap get the better of me.

Groaning, I rest my hands on the ground, not caring that the pain is eating into every part of my being like a familiar friend, and then I force myself onto my knees. I helped my problem just enough so that seemingly serious injuries wouldn't hinder me from progressing on my journey, but with foresight back in my head again, no matter how much every area on my back hurts, I can't afford to waste my strength. Because now it is absolutely certain that I have run out of luck that helped me divert my path from the traps, and the misfortune is catching up with me in full force.

I clumsily fish out the small water bottle that Riley included in my scout pack from my bag, and as I snap the cap off, I touch the cold metal to my mouth and take a sizeable sip, the cool caress of the water calms my burnt throat nicely. I have to be thrifty with this too, because now it has become quite a firm conviction in my head that, confirming my first intuition, it will not be easy to get out of this goddamn forest. In one piece and relatively undamaged.

I slide my water bottle back into the bag and struggle to a standing position by holding on to one of the tree trunks with my hand. When I'm sure that my feet are stable enough, I slowly search for the communicator from my pocket to check how far I managed to drift from the target direction due to the previous complication. And as soon as the holographic map appears, even I'm surprised by how skillfully I was able to keep myself relatively close to the right path, and at least that doesn't increase the annoyance that arises in me. Because I am filled with immeasurable frustration, now that I have the opportunity to realize how primitively and stupidly I walked into the first trick that popped up in my way. I'm almost certain that if I hadn't been reflecting on how the fear of losing my relationship with the funny little Hunter team was driving me forward, I would have had the brainpower to notice that I was marching into fucking danger. Then my attention might not have been distracted so far from reality that I would have remembered to pay more attention to my surroundings, which I was sure from the beginning holds sweet little thrills for me.

It seems that my newly found anger gives me enough impetus to overcome the ache that settles in his body, and I take advantage of this momentum to set off in the right direction. I don't give myself time to dwell on my foolishness, but I turn every single one of my senses towards the forest that looks more and more suspicious in front of me. I can't allow myself to be enriched with more of these amazing experiences through some obscure invention, because the idea is taking increasingly bigger space in my mind, that the purpose of these is not only to slow someone down, but rather to eliminate the unfortunate participants in the test.

I proceed with cautious steps, almost paranoidly measuring every single branch and twig that is even slightly suspiciously placed on the ground. All my nerves are focused on the outside world around me, and now I understand why they chose a forest to perform a test of this caliber. Because if the goal is to weed out the weak links among the applicants, then I will take them to a field where it will be revealed how well they can deal with the frustration of the unknown. Those who enter here not only have to worry about whether they will survive if an obstacle crosses their path, but they also have to endure the fact, that although they know that they will surely encounter danger at some point, they can't foresee when and how. And this plants the kind of tension in the depths of one's consciousness, which slowly consumes their sanity. And Riley very cunningly thought that this would be the case with me. The bastard knew very well that it would be enough for me to come across one of the probably thousands of life-threatening small toys in the woods, and it would hinder me just enough that I would try to avoid the others by overthinking my every step. And for some reason, it gives me evil satisfaction that, if it hadn't been clear by now, he analyzed me at least as much as I dissected him.

I don't have to wander far, and my precaution is already paying off, because the slyly hidden wire swims almost imperceptibly into my field of vision, and stretched out between two tree trunks, it is waiting with open arms for me to run into it. I stop for a moment as I take in the thin line of the cord glistening with a metallic shine, and even I'm taken aback as I realize that this seemingly harmless, fine little wire could slash up its unsuspecting victim if they move towards it at the right speed. I'm starting to question more and more why anyone would feel the need to go to such hazardous lengths to test the Hunters' suitability, since it doesn't seem very expedient to want to make sliced-up salami from those whom I want to use for monster extermination. They are outnumbered compared to the number of mutants anyway, so why are they trying to butcher them before the energy and money invested in their training can pay off?

I keep my eyes on the area that stretches out in front of me because it seems too simple that this tiny little inconvenience is the only thing trying to thwart my survival. And I don't have to be disappointed, because the moment I take a closer look at the rather harmless bushes located next to the tree trunks tied together with cable, I realize that on both sides of the trap, there is a nice little package waiting, in the form of the smoke bombs I now know so well. How cunning. If someone doesn't fall for the wire, no matter which side they want to avoid this from, they will definitely walk into another trap. And I'm also absolutely sure that a surprise awaits beyond the cable if someone tries to hide under it.

It seems almost comical that the creators of the training site concentrated all their creative little creations in the middle of the forest, because it seems disturbingly clear that the goal was to distract the bastards who wandered in, and then surprise them later. And I would rather smash my head against one of the tree trunks because of the knowledge, that this tactic worked quite beautifully on me as well.

Putting aside my frustration at my own stupidity, I search for a possible gap where I can cross the area in front of me more safely, and when I see the broad trunk of a tree stretched out on the ground not far away, I decide to give it a go. I carefully move closer and comb through every small crack in search of a device of dubious origin. But when I find nothing, but ivy's tendrils winding peacefully along the grooves of the tree trunk, I'm relieved for a minute that maybe I won't be stuck here, since no fucking route seems safe enough. With quick movements, I hop on top of the wood, and for a second I carefully measure the bare site in front of me, still spying on which blade of grass is bent even in a slightly suspicious manner to hide another danger behind it. And the restlessness revives itself in me again when I can't find anything, because at this point I already expect to step into some funny little structure every second.

I jump off the log with such limber movements that belie the pain running through my body, and the branches break under my feet with a soft crunch as I hit the ground. I proceed carefully, and in the meantime, my eyes scan the bodies of the trees with the attention of a predator searching for prey, to see if fate brings me back to one of the ankle-breaking and neck-slitting traps I've seen before. It paints a deceptively gentle picture in front of me, as a warm breeze dances the leaves of the trees golden from the sunlight, but I do not fall for the apparent peace. Because the strings of my nerves that are strained to the point of breaking tell me precisely, that every fucking square centimeter holds another damn risk for me.

But despite all my awareness, despite every step taken with increased caution, and in spite of the fact that I searched every hidden nook and cranny, my ears are hit by a crack louder than any before, as a twig drifts under the sole of my boot, and I don't have the slightest chance to avoid what follows. Because two bent, metal rods swinging out of the forest floor covered with mud and weeds are closing around my left leg sooner than I have time to process it. And the pain that rushes in my body from the force of the metal pressing on my flesh through the fabric of the pants, elicits a loud cry from me. The instinctive desire to escape awakens in me, and I try to pull my legs out of the straps, but they lock around me like a vise, and with every movement they only send new waves of misery over the bruised muscles.

But, if this wasn't a disturbing enough development in the next stop of my leisurely stroll on the soft lap of nature, a sharp sound goes off out of nowhere, surpassing my panting echoing in the wildness of the forest. The whistling screams at such a deafening volume, that I freeze in fear in the midst of my attempts to escape. A sharp pain rips through my ears, and I instinctively press my hands to them and start searching for the source of the sound. My eyes jump wildly in the tangled mass of trees and vines, and it takes a few agonizing moments before I find the tiny little device attached to one of the tree trunks, from which an enthusiastically flashing red dot points at me. I follow the line of the structure directed towards me, and as soon as I see the flashing red dot on my chest, I immediately understand that the metal enveloping my legs in a friendly hug is not my only problem. Whatever it is that the high-frequency screeching is trying to lure here, it won't do me any good to wait until it gets here. That's why, I double the energy that I've spent on my attempts to break free so far, and I try to remove the bars from myself even more vehemently.

But even the ringing in my ears is penetrated by the crackling sound that suddenly appears in the hidden shadows of the forest, and I reflexively turn my head to the source of the noise. All my muscles go rigid and I become completely immobile as my gaze finds a dark shadow, blurred by distance, approaching with jerky movements in the direction where my humble person has frozen into a statue. And it becomes clear what the series of clever little traps I discovered earlier served, because I now recognize that even though I thought I had suddenly advanced to become an expert in forest traps, every obstacle that appeared up until now wanted to lead me here. No matter where I would have stumbled into this whole damn pile of shit, probably every small structure on the way to the safe house would have directed me here. Because by being a survival trial for Hunters, the goal all along could have been to end up here and find myself face-to-face with a monster. And I feel incredibly stupid for thinking that this would not happen. I should have known that Riley wasn't giving me the fucking gun as a decoration.

As if a divine spark had just ignited in my brain, I break out of the paralyzed anticipation, as my heart desperately tries to pump the adrenaline in my veins, revived by the terror. I hastily tear the backpack from my back, and with clumsy movements, I start to search its depths for the gun that Riley gave me, because, like a real idiot, I forgot that I had it at all. Nothing is more proof of my arrogance and blindness than the fact, that I hoped even for a brief moment, that it would be in a better place at the bottom of my bag than in my hand, because I wouldn't be needing it anyway.

And when my fingers find the cold metal among the many tiny survivor items, I don't get to enjoy the small success, because a bone-shattering roar soars above the deafening noise of the still enthusiastically whistling device. Frightened, my hand clenches around the pistol's grip as I turn my attention back to the unknown creature, and my blood runs cold instantly, as what the noise lured here emerges in front of me. Due to the coverage of the bushes, I can only see a large back covered with sparse, dark hair, and the deformed extensions of the vertebrae rise like sharp spikes along the spine, which are stained dark by the dirt and blood that have dried on them. The I.M.L.'s milky white eyes appear with an almost unnatural glint in the shadow of the canopy, and I forget to even breathe as I survey the monster, which could once have been a wild boar. And it doesn't take much intelligence to figure out that if this huge, bloodthirsty beast with bulging muscles ventures closer, I will not survive that encounter.

The realization is enough to wake me up again from my petrified state and trigger the survival instinct in me, which immediately tells me that even though I have the gun, I don't have the slightest chance of taking down this scumbag in such an open field. Because I can't waste my ammo and pump it full of bullets, because there's a chance that it has a few more buddies who will want to show up if I manage to escape this situation alive. Therefore, I tuck the gun into the waistband of my pants, yank my bag onto my back, and desperately grab the shackles that hold my legs with my hands, and clenching my teeth, I strain against them with all my might. A blinding agony rips through my back from the effort, but I pay no attention to it, but rather use the suffering to fight on, knowing for sure that if the beast gets here, that will be the end for me. And this is enough motivation for some foreign strength reserved in the hidden depths of me to emerge, which almost makes my muscles swell with unknown power. And as soon as the metal bars let go of their hold even for a little bit, I quickly pull my leg out of the trap.

I only take one last alarmed look at I.M.L., who moves out from among the branches, and turns its huge head, distorted by ulcerated bumps towards me, and as I assess the tusks probably as thick as my forearm protruding from its mouth, I don't wait any longer. I start running at such a speed that even my two cheerleader boys would erupt in ecstatic joy. The pain hits my left leg like a hammer with every movement, which continues to radiate into all my joints, but due to the adrenaline raging inside me, my brain only perceives the ache as a dull, distant feeling. Branches tear my clothes and get caught in my hair as I sprint frantically, but I don't care about anything else than getting as far away from the monster as possible, whose pounding steps, for now, reach my ears only from a distance.

In the middle of my panic-stricken rush, I try to go through the possible plans in my stressed brain that can help prevent me from becoming a mangled corpse. Even though the pistol digs into my waist with seductive hardness, I know that, unlike my trainers, my aiming skills are not half as developed that the fired bullet would stray close to the beast while running, let alone hit a vital organ that would lay it flat after one shot. However, the incessant throbbing in my leg reminds me that I can't just flee forever, because this enraged behemoth will catch up sooner or later, and I shouldn't wait for it to impale me with its tusks. And it's not a solution to mindlessly launch into the unknown landscape of the forest, because there's a chance that I'll stumble into a nice little trap again, which will definitely not end well. My only hope is that I can find some hideout and maybe I'll be lucky enough to surprise this bastard and hit it with a bullet while I take cover.

And, as soon as the idea forms in me, I start a desperate search for a nook and cranny, for anything that would be able to conceal me from the swine breathing down on my neck. But no matter how hard I look, the landscape slips past me too quickly for my gray matter to grasp any detail of it, or to identify a potential hiding place, since it's too busy leading me out of the mouth of danger. The thunderous sound of the feet behind me, which is getting louder and louder, doesn't help either, because it only increases my heart rate, which is already soaring to life-threatening heights, which, pounding on my eardrums, provides the only rhythm for my sprinting. I can almost feel the I.M.L.'s breath smelling of decaying flesh on the back of my neck, and every little hair rises from the sensation, and the cruel fist of fear closes around my stomach.

I don't dare to take my eyes off the rapidly changing forest scenery in front of me for even a moment, because the panic is working inside me, that says if I am careless even for a minute, the earth will open in two and swallow me, making sure to prepare me nicely for the monster's arrival. My lungs burn desperately as my accelerated breathing tries to get oxygen into my body, and I surprise even myself with how easy I seem to run without stopping. As if the fatigue had magically left my tormented limbs, and now some completely new force was driving me forward, which wouldn't let me give up or stop even for a second.

Suddenly, almost out of nowhere, the end of the forest floor appears in front of me, and I quickly realize that my survival is facing an unexpected obstacle. But as fast as the complication arrive, I decide my next step with the same speed, and without any hesitation, I throw myself down the steep hillside that emerges. Falling on my side, I slide down, and the sharp pain caused by the roots and stones hitting my body does not arrive at my brain. I quickly reach for the pistol that is slowly slipping out of my pants, and firmly wrap my fingers around the grip, and I stick out my free hand through the cloud of dust raised around me to dig into the ground, trying to control my body as it drifts down the hill.

And as I hit the bottom of the small chasm, I give myself a fleeting second to finally find a shelter, which can give me the opportunity to get rid of the beast that is slowly catching up with me. As if it were a gift from God, a pile of fallen trees towering over each other appear not long before me, and I'm filled with wild joy at the knowledge that I had finally found the perfect place. I immediately swing towards my makeshift fortress at breakneck speed, and the screeching howling from the top of the hill only motivates me to hurry. And when I reach my destination, I tear off my backpack with hasty movements and drop to my stomach to pull myself into the very narrow gap that opens under the trunks of the trees and the ground. The smell of musty, rotten leaves and wet earth fills my nose, and I clench my teeth and swallow the painful moan caused by the rough surface of the tree barks scratching my back, which is already full of injuries.

But before I can get into the right position for the attack, the trees resting above me creak with a loud crack, and I struggle onto my back in fear. And as I find myself eye-to-eye with the monster through the gaps filtering through the trunks, every part of my body freezes with icy fear. The milky white, worldless eyes stare at me, the stench of death and carrion emanating from the huge mouth fills my nose, and the otherworldly growl that erupts from the mutant echoes in every corner of my consciousness. With a loud bang, its heavy head collides with the logs protecting me, and with each movement, splinters of wood fly into the air following its attacks.

And I'm petrified, trembling, waiting to wake up, because the whole situation I've fallen into seems like a bad dream. My brain can't process how close death has come to me, and not a single nerve in me gets a spark from the shock of the realization. A single thought flashes before in my mind as the mutant methodically destroys my cover, that I can't end up like this. I can't die in the middle of a desolate forest, alone, by a damned mutated boar. I can't let myself become a pile of mangled guts and bones. This shouldn't be the last memory that is left of me. I can't let THEM remember me as the girl who got mauled by a fucking pig. I CAN'T DIE.

I have to realize that I have never experienced such terror in my life, and the dread brings a whole new side of me to the surface. And this self of me clings to every fragrant thread of life with its teeth and nails, and invades my body with such determination that it unexpectedly breaks my consciousness out of frozen shock. Such anger and poison ripple through all the fibers of my being, after which my energy boils up in my veins like hot lava, and suddenly all my senses are sharpened and focused on one single goal. My hand no longer trembles, as I raise the pistol clutched in it and load it, and all doubts about whether I will be saved disappear. The barrel of the gun is pointed confidently at the head of the wild animal raging above me, and even though it struggles with the thick tree trunks and gets closer to me, by now every drop of uncertainty has left my body. And as soon as I see the pus-oozing ulcer bulging between its two eyes in the aim, my finger pulls the trigger without hesitation.

The gun fires with an ear-piercing bang, and it doesn't bother me at all as the noise gets louder due to the insulation of the ground and trees around me, and my ears start to ring. Because it fills me with much greater joy when the mutant bastard staggers over and its huge body falls to the ground with a thud. Whining, I turn onto my stomach again to crawl out of my hideout, because the excitement and adrenaline pounding inside me tell me that it's not over yet, I still have to fight.

And when I emerge from under the tree trunks, I throw the pistol on the ground and straighten up to get around the pile of wood, and approach the beast lying on the other side with decisive steps. I had a good guess that a bullet wouldn't be enough to kill these bastards, because the virus that deforms them is famous for making its victims surprisingly durable if it can keep the host alive longer. But this little pig is out of luck, because the energy bubbling inside me gives me a determination that it will most certainly not survive. Bending down, I weave my fingers on an arm-thick stick, and my every muscle is filled with murderous rage as I gallop closer and measure up the monster writhing in the dirt. Black blood is bubbling from the gunshot wound on its head, its legs are twitching wildly as it tries to recover from the shock so that it can stand up and attack again. But I'm already there by its side, and it has no chance to pull itself together again.

I hit it with such momentum that when the piece of wood comes into contact with the beast's body, the force of the impact resonates through my arm almost painfully. But the cruel temper works much more strongly in me, which urges me more and more to continue what I have begun. My hand rises again and again, and with each blow stomach-churning crunches and splashes erupt from the mutant. A loud roar escapes from my mouth as I deliver blow after blow to my enemy who is slowly becoming motionless on the ground, but even then the immeasurable anger raging inside me does not subside. Because every single one of my frustrations is pouring out of me now, which was only reinforced by death coming within a hair's breadth. Gritting my teeth, I slam down without stopping, and I don't care about the gnawing ache in my back, nor the pain straining my palm. And I don't stop my rampage until the branch breaks in my hand and the other end lands on the ground, in a pile of mutilated flesh beyond recognition.

I bend down on my knees panting, and for the first time, I really take a look at what I have just done. And as I survey the ground soaked with dark blood, the brain coils lying in small pieces through the shattered skull, I am filled with a strange satisfaction. Because the image flashes in my mind that if I hadn't been the stronger one, then I would be lying in the mud in the same way now. And even then, I don't regret the brutality with which I executed this vermin, when the red clouds of rage clear from my brain, and the mixture of adrenaline and energy pulsating in my veins finally begins to calm down.

And as the impulse that had kept me moving lessens, I feel every stab of the pain radiating through my body again, but the knowledge of how my desperate struggle for survival has amortized me doesn't dampen my mood. Because I recall again the image that danced in front of my mind's eye when, like a switch, the terror in me turned into brutal anger fighting for survival. And even I am surprised when I realize how deeply I was affected by the humanity and trust shown to me by the small group of Hunters. Because in the throat of death, among others, the faces of MacTavish, Garrick, and Price appeared before me, and the realization that I could not lose what I had just tasted drove my body towards fighting more vehemently than anything else in my life. And although I still think it's pathetic to admit, I can no longer deny that the reason I rejected the idea of running away and pushed myself forward was the fact, that I've already sampled what it's like to be one of them, and I'm willing to fight tooth and nail, so that I don't experience this for the last time. Because no one has ever, not even once, turned to me with as much compassion and warmth as these people in their own way, and there is no power in this world that can divert my selfish desire to continue enjoying this exceptional treatment. And an amused laugh breaks out of me when I realize that even Riley won't stand a chance, and I'm willing to stroll to the safe house to throw this in his face. On second thought, I should be grateful to the man for bringing me here. Because I suspect that I would not have reached this enlightenment without a near-death experience.

I stand up with renewed motivation, I turn around and start searching for my scattered equipment. And when my eyes find my bag lying on the floor, I pull a small smile on my face and smoothing my hand on the back of my head, I start to heal the bruises and deep cuts running along my back. I will need all my strength and all my equipment, because I will not stop until the end, even if I have to chase myself until my last breath. And when I reach the finish line, I will pass on all the lessons of my new discovery to the Hunter.

* ⃰

Exhaustion weighs on my legs like a heavy burden, and even though I've healed most of my injuries, there's just enough aching left to remind me that I can't stop. And it wouldn't make sense to get rid of it anyway, because I can already see the wretched shack appearing behind the thinning line of trees, for which I crossed this goddamn forest. The fiery rays of the setting sun paint the tin roof of the shabby house orange, and this diverts the attention from the fact that the whole shanty is probably only held together by the Holy Spirit. It may have once been used by hikers to rest on their way after a long adventure, and at the time it may have seemed more suitable for this purpose. Still, this crumbling cabin is the most beautiful thing I've ever had the pleasure of seeing in my eyes now. Because limping towards it means I've done it. I survived the ordeal I thought was impossible and passed the test, which I suspect neither I nor Riley, who is waiting for me at the cottage, expected with full certainty.

My hand looks for leverage in one of the tree trunks as I step forward from the woods, and my gaze almost automatically meets the man's, who merely pushes himself away from the wall of the safe house upon my arrival. And I'd be lying if I said that it doesn't fill me with ferocious joy when I can feel the mild surprise emanating from him even from a distance, since I know that even if he counted on the possibility that I would get out of this affair alive, he also assumed that my path would not lead here. The dark eyes run over me in a split second, and I feel them taking in every available surface of my battered, dirty and blood-stained form, and I have to hide the evil little smile that wishes to come on my lips, when it occurs to me, that the state of my appearance might give him reason for concern.

And when he steps off the small porch of the shack, I, accompanied by a weak moan, let the fatigue and the throbbing ache in my limbs take over and help my body fall to the ground with a dull thud. After the trials of the previous hours, I can accept the feeling more easily as I meet the hard ground, and it even feels a little pleasant, as I enter a state close to resting for the first time since the previous night. Closing my eyes, I allow myself to finally relax for a few moments after the hellish lesson I've been through, and it doesn't bother me at all that I'm stirring up and inhaling the dust below me with my slow breathing. Thanks to MacTavish and Garrick's clever little ideas, I'm almost used to this experience.

But my attention doesn't waver despite my seemingly unconscious state, because I keep my ears open and listen as the Hunter's heavy steps get closer and closer to me, thus leading him into the sneaky little trap that I had time to devise while running the last few kilometers. The shadow of his tall figure looms over me as he stands in front of me, and I can almost feel his searching gaze burning my back, as he surely checks for signs of life on my limp person. His unmistakable spicy scent creeps into my nose as he crouches down next to me, and I feel one of his big hands spreading across my back. The touch with which he pulls aside the fabric of my torn turtleneck to examine my injuries is light as a feather, and I continue to let him explore with the calmness of a fainted victim, even though the worn skin tingles in the wake of his probing.

And the possibility probably fills him with sincere uncertainty that he might have really succeeded and killed the new little helper of his team, because he doesn't even notice the way one of my eyes opens and assesses the person crouching next to me. His left hand is resting on one of his bent thighs, and his tattooed skin peeking out from under his rolled-up sleeve is calling me almost seductively, offering itself to be the protagonist of my little action. I let him estimate the damage for a few more moments, and when his hand slides from my back to my shoulder to reach under me and lift me up, I know the moment has arrived to strike. Using the momentum of the power left in me, I suddenly reach for his free hand, and my fingers lock onto his upper arm with such speed that he doesn't have enough time to free himself from his musings about my battered state. The muscles under my palm tense up as I channel the first sparks of my lightning-fast little energy into him, forcing a momentary confusion on the Hunter in a vile way.

And as he sways for a minute and loses his rock-solid balance, I seize this opportunity to spring up and push into him with my full weight, grabbing his shoulders and almost throwing myself at him. He falls on the ground with a loud thump as a result of my unexpected action, and I am on top of him in a second, and with skillful movements I unfasten a large knife from the tactical vest on his chest in order to point it at his neck and stop him in any kind of opposition that might arise in him. During the journey there, I had plenty of time to imagine how I was going to carry out my little revenge, which I would use to reward the hostile little words addressed to me as a farewell. But I have to say, as I kneel over him, the sight before me is far beyond my imagination.

As he wakes up from the shock of the moment, his brown eyes jump to my face and are filled with honest surprise as they take in the situation and the triumphant smile on my lips. He tries to move under me, but I only press the pretty little blade that I have just so deftly stolen from him to his throat a bit harder. And that familiar tremble appears in my stomach again, as the line of his jaw shifts in frustration when he realizes what a clever little trap I've lured him into with my award-winning performance. And I remind myself to mention to Price later, that he was wrong about that I can't always rely on distraction when I attack. Because I managed to catch even the strongest Hunter in the unit unprepared with the neat little trick.

"Looks like I won." I sprinkle in my comment, and I don't even try to make the superiority that moves into my voice disappear, because, after the day I've been through, I'm finally going to have some fun. And since my goal is to further enhance the already interesting situation, I lean closer to him with my free hand sliding to his chest so that I can study and enjoy every available change of his face from a safe distance. And I pull a smirk on my lips when I note how his body tenses under me, but he continues to wait with deliberate immobility to see where my little activity leads. Although I know that if he wanted to, he would throw me off of himself like a rag doll. "I hope you haven't forgotten what you promised if I manage to touch you with even a finger."

With this, I really manage to catch him off guard for a moment, because I can recognize the process even from the coverage of the mask, as he furrows his brows in confusion. I ponder on the idea, that up until now he could have been preparing for the fact that I would end his career on earth now out of revenge for this whole torture, but fortunately, the enlightenment I experienced in the forest diverted me from this path for some time now. Although it is true that it has crossed my mind a couple of times to inform him of my discoveries in a more uncomfortable and bloodier way than what my present actions convey. But since I am determined to return to the base, even though I need him as a driver, it is also a non-negligible aspect, thanks to my newly found sympathy, that his absence, presumably, would deeply sadden his little team. And maybe my everyday life would become much more boring without our little games.

"I didn't think you’d be able to do it." He says, breaking his silence, and it's not entirely clear whether he's talking about my escape or my little revenge maneuver, but whatever he means, the breath of playfulness in his deep voice gives me satisfaction. Because this is the first time that his speech directed at me doesn't ring with hostility or harsh bluntness.

"I hope you can get over it." I reply to his comment with unbroken cheerfulness, since I really hope that he can put aside his disappointment caused by my survival for the sake of our future relationship. As things currently stand, my plans include spoiling the air of unit for the foreseeable future, and perhaps this outing in the woods has diverted both of us to the path where the atmosphere between the two of us will become somewhat more livable. Of course, it doesn't even occur to me that we'll be best friends, because I don't plan to hold back a single remark from my sharp little tongue, regardless of what revelations I've made in the heat of the fucking life-threatening danger. And I suspect he will feel just a little bit less motivated to break my neck. But that's perfectly fine. If our little duel didn't continue, I'm afraid my life would become too boring and gray. After all, what would I do in my spare time if I couldn't think of creative ways to piss him off?

"We'll see." He reacts to my little suggestion quite casually, and for some reason, I particularly like the way he is stuck underneath me, between my thighs, and lets me enjoy every little moment of my victory. Interestingly, this position suits him surprisingly well, where he's robbed of control by someone taking him to the ground, which I suspect is not a common occurrence. And this is starting to soothe my soul somewhat after today's sea of shit.

But as his dark eyes leave my face and move on to my figure pinning him to the ground, the superiority I just felt suddenly diminishes. And the excited little sparks under my skin shouldn't arise by the way his gaze glides over me, because now I have the upper hand, and in this situation, my morbid little joy should be the cause of the tingle appearing in my stomach at most. But now a new feeling rears its evil little head inside me, prompting me to retreat quickly, because this intimate moment has the potential to take an unknown turn if I stay in it. And as much as I know that the man sprawled beneath me is probably just looking for ways in his indifferent mind to torture me later as a reward for my little move, I still can't get rid of the thrilling excitement that moves into my limbs.

Therefore, I rather decide that it is time to return to the base, because the imaginations in my head are rampant in increasingly wild ways due to fatigue. So I easily give up on my little mission, since I am too worn out and exhausted to burden my already frayed nerves with such complicated thoughts and observations. I push myself away from him with quick movements, giving myself momentum with my hand resting on his chest, and standing up, I take a few steps back to give him a chance to gather himself.

"You could take me back now." I raise my free hand towards him, putting all my indifference into this small gesture, even though I know that this is my first move towards him, in which no insidious, sly ulterior motive is hidden. "I'd kill for a shower." I add a rather realistic reason to my wish, because the only thing that can help my current state is a good bath and my hard little bed. And while before I would have accepted it cynically if the enjoyment of such simple pleasures arose in me, after wrestling with mutants, I somehow re-evaluate how uplifting the feeling can be when I'm allowed to just simply exist pleasantly.

A few torturous moments pass, but finally, he firmly wraps his long fingers around my outstretched hand, and regaining consciousness from the shock of my attack he sits up, and I, accompanied by the screams of my tortured muscles, pull him up so that he can tower above me again. I'm sure that he would have been able to do this stunt on his own too, but the fact that he accepted my hand instead of killing me on the spot, fills me with a breath of contentment that I wouldn't admit out loud, even if a cute little piglet would want to murder me again.

"Remember that you owe me a wish." I remind him, as I tap his vest with the knife I had sneaked away from him, and I can't hold back the cheeky grin curling at the corners of my mouth, which appears on my face at the mention of my reward. If he thought that one of the forest traps would make such an impression on my mind that I would forget his irresponsibly sarcastic little remark, then I'm sad to say, that he played with the wrong person. Because unfortunately, my memory is even better than my survival instinct. "I won't let you cop out." I promise him, and despite the insolence in my voice, my intentions are really serious in this regard, because he can be certain, that I will save up this opportunity for a very sneaky moment. Those who have an irresponsible mouth will have to suck it up and follow through.

"Let's go." He cuts my little threat short, while taking the knife I got from him and sliding it back into one of the intricate pockets of his vest with practiced movements. He gives me another meaningful look, and he doesn't have to voice what his message is to me, because I can decipher it myself quite well. And as the coldness in the dark eyes moderates somewhat, I realize that from now on he wants to chase me away from his team a few degrees less. Because my return was a clear answer to the question that had probably been on his mind until now, and now that he can rest assured that I will not stab him in the back, he will be calmer to let me live.

He walks towards the jeep with comfortable steps, and I follow him, accompanied by a tired sigh, but still keeping my lightness. I don't spare a single glance at the forest behind me, which is slowly fading into the evening, even though it has become the scene of fateful memories. And although the events that took place in the abundance of nature resolved many of my stormy emotions and thoughts, I can't wait to leave the fucking home of life-threatening adventures behind me. Because I am much more interested in how my life at the unit will continue after this. And something tells me that the real excitement will only follow after this.

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galacticlamps · 2 years ago

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ooooh I'm VERY interested in hearing about second nature (I'm assuming this is the human nature au? if so I LOVE the title that's so clever)!! also 6th time's the charm and the 29th fic in your big document if you like o:

wip tag game!

(descriptions posts above the cut, excerpts below it)

second nature is indeed my human nature au - as in, literally a spin on those episodes (I haven’t read the book) & not just a chameleon arch humandoctor story, so the basic description of Two, Jamie, & Zoe being on the run from the Family of Blood and winding up hiding out at an early 20th century English boarding school with Professor John Smith is as you'd expect it to be. That’s probably about the extent of the plot similarities though, since it’s also a get-together fic primarily about the relationships between the 3 main characters.

I just realized "6th time's the charm" probably sounds like a satisfying conclusion to some adorable 5 + 1, but no, instead it's a reference to the fact that 5 other documents in that list are attempts at writing the same story, and that particular doc's version of it hasn't been touched in over a year now (whoops), but I’ll post a little piece of it anyway. It varies between being multi-chapter or a one-shot and between perspectives, but it’s basically a fic in which Two & Jamie have managed to go quite a long time without actually talking about their feelings, Jamie’s certain they should, the Doctor’s convinced they shouldn’t, and the eventual result is a kind of forced confession.

In the list, 29 is set in season 5, with the description “the doctor saves jamie with time lord regeneration energy. they aren't sure if they can leave because of it” - I actually really like this one, I just know I have some big parts of the plot to finalize before I could really work on it seriously

Second Nature:

Picking one piece of this was really hard but let’s go with this bit from what should be the second chapter, since that doesn’t really require context:

Zoe studied the Doctor's unconscious face thoughtfully. "Do you think I could pass for his daughter?"

"Hm? Oh, I don't know - I'm no good at that sort of thing. Your hair's similar?" he ventured.

"Thanks, Jamie,” she rolled her eyes.

"Yours is neater,” he added quickly.

"I should hope so, seeing as I have actually been known to brush it on occasion."

"But wouldn't a lie that big be kind of difficult? I mean, if you're his daughter that would mean he should remember your whole life growin’ up, and your mother and you bein’ born. The Doctor said he'd just go along with most things, makin’ up memories that make things make sense but . . . I don’t know, that's an awful lot to not really remember about a person, isn't it?"

"I suppose. And then, I'd be expected to know anything he can't recall, and to refer to all the right places and things he invents for himself in his past. . . You’re right, it’s probably not the best explanation for my being here."

"Probably not." Jamie wasn’t sure what would be, but he didn't think he could pull off pretending the Doctor was his father for three minutes let alone months, so he was especially invested in having Zoe come up with a different cover story for them both. She seemed stuck on it though.

"Perhaps I could be adopted, and recently? I can say I'm a little younger than I am, and if he's been a teacher, maybe I was one of his students, and I lost my family, and we got on really well so he took me in? How's that sound?"

"Och, I don't know,” Jamie shook his head, defeated. “It might work."

"I think I ought to say I'm an orphan either way,” Zoe continued, unfazed. “It’s close enough to the truth, I suppose, since I never really knew my family before going away to the institute, and it saves me having to invent existing relations." She sighed and kicked up her feet so they dangled over the edge of the front seat of the cart. Jamie put an arm out and pushed her back protectively even though he knew she was fine. "Oh, I would so like to say I'm here to teach at the school with him or something like that, but I don't think they'd let women teach boys here, at least not one my age."

from 6th time’s the charm:

“. . . and, anyway, Jamie’s anxious to get a look at some of their nicer resorts, aren’t you, Jamie?” They both turned to him then, and while Jamie could tell Zoe had read the room well enough to know that was more than half a lie, she still looked intrigued. It was the Doctor, however, that put the nail in the coffin on Jamie’s protests, staring at him so hopefully, like a child on Christmas morning. No matter how many trips they made – and no matter how disappointing any of them proved, he was always so determined to be excited about the next one. And Jamie could hardly blame him for that, what with it being one of those things that made his heart thrill and his cheeks blush and Zoe remind him wasn’t there something you said you’d discuss with the Doctor?

“Oh, aye, sure,” he agreed, rolling his eyes, but even the Doctor’s persistence had come to be endearing. It was one of the many things Jamie loved him for, he knew, and just because he hadn’t quite gotten up the nerve to ever tell the Doctor as much didn’t make it any less true.

29. Here’s a chunk of the first scene of actual dialogue I wrote for it, after making notes on the premise & context (sorry it’s so long & so light on both punctuation & narration, that’s how most of my wips start out, & bc of that I figured it'd make even less sense if I gave you a shorter piece):

Jamie! Good to see you up and about but maybe it'd be better if-- I feel fine And I'm very glad to hear that but still, a little precaution never-- I feel great Really? I know I feel much better than I've any right to Ah. Well you see, the ah, the medical assessment, initially, last night, may not-- You did something to me, didn't you? Saved my life? Jamie, I-- You did, I know you did. I didn't understand it when it was happening - still don't, really - but now I know you can do something-- Jamie, keep your voice down! Only I never saw you do anything like that before. So why is that? It's dangerous, isn't it, what ye did? That's why ye don't do it all the time? It's . . . complicated, Jamie-- Complicated? I've seen I don't know how many people die in front of us and never seen you even try to do a thing like that to save any of them before, and now you tell me you couldn't because it was complicated?? Complicated to explain precisely why it's dangerous, Jamie, please. Sit - if, if you can comfortably, that is. Oh. Aye, of course I can. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt better in my life. the Doctor only nodded evasively at the ground as Jamie sat on the edge of the sofa opposite him & leaned forward conspiratorially, his elbows on his knees Alright, it's complicated to explain - but start with this - is it dangerous to me or dangerous to you? To both of us. And to Victoria. Victoria? And to Ben, and Polly, and for that matter to Kirsty and Colin McLaren and to a hundred other people you haven't-- How in the world can it be a danger to all those-- It's very hard to explain, Jamie. In fact, part of the explanation could add to the danger too. Jame sat back. He’d been with the Doctor long enough to know there were plenty of things he didn’t tell him, but some were things he knew he wished he could, information he didn’t feel safe sharing however much he'd like to. There were a very few topics it all tended to connect back to, and given the situation, it didn’t take long for him to guess which one it was this time. It's to do with your own people, then. the Doctor shrugged helplessly, as if convincing himself he wasn't saying anything that wasn't already obvious. Well, it would have to be, wouldn't it? he suggested in a thin voice, almost wincing away from his own words. Jamie's heart ached at seeing how pained such a small admission made him, but his pulse quickened too, and there were some facts he needed to know before he could leave it be. And for whatever reason I'm guessin you're not supposed to do what you did to me last night? the Doctor nodded jerkily, not meeting Jamie's eyes. You might put it that way, yes. And it - he couldn't help but glance incredulously down at his own hand laying unassuming, palm-up in his lap; even he wouldn't know, just to look at it, that the Doctor had squeezed it so tightly in both of his own last night until all three had glowed a blinding gold - except, of course, for the fact that it didn't belong to a dead man this morning. but there were people more perceptive than he in the wide universe - it leaves traces? Yes, it does And if those traces are used to find us... he knew when and when not to bother with details. We should leave he stood up abruptly. The Doctor rose too catching him by the elbow They have time travel too, Jamie. That wouldn't make it better How not? If they've noticed the trace - and they might not, but if they have - then watching it move through time and space irregularly would be the final confirmation on what had happened That you used your... abilities to save me? Or a - one of my people - to save a human, yes Aye, and? And that would not be taken lightly by anyone Alright, and the alternative? Well, if we stay put for a while, the Doctor explained slowly, releasing the hold on his arm at last, behave in a spatially and temporally standard way, then, possibly it'll be given up on as a blip on the radar. A mistake. Somehow Jamie was quiet a long time How long will it take the trace to wear off? I've no idea Doctor? Well, I've never done that before! So why do it now? Because the risk was too-- How? How was this risk worth it when you've just said all the things it endangers? God, Doctor am I even gonna be able to-- he blanched, suddenly, and the doctor knew his thoughts before he spoke them Am I gonna be able to come with you when you leave here?

#wip stuff #again so sorry that last one's so long #thank you for the ask!

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marypsue · 1 year ago

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Ahh your takes regarding the ways in which the teen trio of monster hunters misunderstand each other continue to be So Very Correct, also I hadn’t thought of Robin and Jonathan much before but you are so right. They have such fun cat energy to me (will they be hissing? Or mean together?) and the body swap fic is so clever for having their main point of contention be physically present/spiritually absent (Steve and his overwhelming shadow of being popular once and also maybe a douche)

For the torture, mentions are fine!! It’s mainly the references to specific acts, especially fingernails and fear of dying/further torture(idk if that makes sense, but generally just like details or Steve POV thinking about that scene if that makes sense?) Also references to how it felt to get beaten and how his body felt afterwards, if there are a lot of details. Totally okay if it’s too much, I obviously know that it is a key part of ST fics and also very much something that is central Steve post s3 so its very chill if you can’t tag those instances!! But I am a selfishly little glad that s3 AU hero’s won’t have that plot point and very excited as always for whatever you’ve cooked up!! I’m very excited for your fic which I trust much more than the duffers not to be blatantly xenophobia and betray it’s original messaging by becoming strangely jingoistic about the Cold War.

Cat energy! Oh my goodness, that's exactly it. They're a pair of bristly street cats recently intaken by a shelter and not sure whether they're going to get enough food not to have to fight each other about it. Steve does cast a long shadow, but I'm just now realising: Robin and Jonathan probably both have horror stories about him from the King Steve days. This is a bonding opportunity for them. (They are both going to team up to make fun of him over it and he is going to regret everything. So much.)

I think I follow, thank you for elaborating! I'll do my best to give a heads up if we get into that kind of stuff. (Although you're safe on the fingernails front; just thinking about it is a huge NOPE from me!)

And I'm very flattered to have your trust, and hope to be worthy of it! It's very disappointing to me, after season one, how deeply the show ended up falling into stereotypes and uncritically-repeated Cold War propaganda. And it worries me, because it feels like a lot of the audience the show is courting now are quite young, and farther in time from the Cold War than I am, and not necessarily receiving as thorough an education on what it was about and what its main ideological conflicts were and what its propaganda (and propaganda in general) was like. (I will not speculate on whether this is on purpose. I will not speculate on who besides Coke is funding that thirty mil per episode. I will not attempt to do any kind of ~*education*~ based on my rather poor memory of high school social studies.)

But yeah. I'm keeping tHe rUsSiAnS!!!1, but that storyline looks...a little different. Maybe a lot different. I can't actually tell anymore, I've been too close to it for too long.

#chatter #and i cannot wait to get it in front of people and see how the plot development comes across #stranger things

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vicioux · 3 years ago

Text

DARKLINA FIC RECS // part two

annnnnnd i'm back again with another 🌔 alarkling / darklina fic rec list 🌒 after i made one last month before the show premiered with all my OG darklina favs. i just had to after the massive influx of quality content + shippers (passing 1000 fics on the AO3 tag today!!) after Shadow & Bone premiered on Netflix last month (BIG shoutouts to episode 5) which actually made this quite difficult because i wanted to put everyone's lovely work on here! maybe that's the universe telling me to i'll need to keep making these lol without further ado here is PART TWO of my favorite post-show darklina fanfics for y'all to enjoy! happy reading!! p.s you can find the rest of my fic rec lists here

multichapter (aka canon-divergence galore)

EQUALSVERSE series by della19 In which Aleksander is (mostly) what he pretended to be, and Alina learns about power. In this world, they get to be equals //note: y'all trust me this series is a must read!! parts 1, 3, 4, 5 are *chefs kiss*

SONG OF DYING STARS by andromedabennet His first dreams are of the darkness that frightens him and a little girl who can call to the light. He makes it his mission to find her, no matter what it might cost.

TEN SUNS IN THE SKY by presidenthades Alina has a happy childhood in a border town that never gets razed. Her father is a clever otkazat’sya blacksmith who labors over creations to rival any Fabrikator’s. Her mother is a Shu Inferni who teaches her daughter to embrace the sunlight in her hands and their heritage. When the family makes a fateful attempt to cross the Fold, the Darkling finds not a pawn but a queen.

TELL ME WHAT IT MEANS TO FIND GOD IN YOUR SOCK DRAWERS. TELL ME AGAIN (WHAT IF LOVE WERE ENOUGH FOR US) by lifeitself Two months before Mal and Alina are charted for their journey across the Fold, Alina enlists the help of the Darkling when the Fold begins to shrink. One Shadow Summoner -- and a Sun Summoner who has practiced her power every night since youth underneath thin duvets.

WHEN THE SUN RISES by ineedyoursway Alina is taken to the Little Palace after her Grisha test and given over to the Darkling to train. But there is one catch - when she comes of age, she is to marry Vasily Lantsov and continue the royal bloodline.

ONE MORE FOR THE ROAD by rist He returns to the war room shaken, and finds an Alina that cannot leave without at least having tried.

A LIGHT IN THE SHADOW by sleepydragon19 It was the fate of the Sun Summoner to be born, her fate to meet the Darkling, her fate to save Ravka. How this happens, however, is up to her and the choices people make. Alina is five years old when she first meets the Shadow Man. It changes everything.

LIKE A TEAR ON A CHEEK by arianakristine She escapes, late the night of the Fete. She knows she is a fool for what comes next, but can't forget the heart in his eyes all the same.

AN ORDINARY NAME by emmathescribe When Mal is killed on their first crossing of the Shadow Fold, a new power awakens within Alina. Traumatised and bereft, Alina finds herself thrust into the dazzling world of the Grisha, where she must try to grieve for Mal whilst navigating her growing relationship with the mysterious Darkling.

alternate universe

BLACK SMOKE WHITE FLAME by littleloststar The shadow made her an offer: stay in the castle with him, and the regiment would survive the harsh winter that had trapped them all in the ice-sheeted valley below. beauty&thebeast!AU

A SOUL WHOSE INTENTIONS ARE GOOD by secretsarenotforfree An authoritative voice, lightly accented and full of power even when kept low for secrets sake, his back to her. A briefcase so neatly made it had to be bespoke. The tall bob of the top of just criminally beautiful hair. Puzzle pieces. Alina’s favorite. Especially when she was given the chance to assemble them into a whole. suits!AU

ALL ALONG THERE WAS SOME INVISIBLE STRING, TYING YOU TO ME by fionakevin073 “The universe made you for me,” Aleksander says, black eyes glinting with delight. “No,” she corrects softly. “The universe made us for each other.” (Alina and the Darkling are soulmates, but she doesn't know that yet) soulmark!AU

THE WITHERING by blonddragon Unrequited love is a beautiful horror. A white narcissus that falls from his lips. That strangles him from within. The Darkling is dying. Will Alina return his love before it is too late? hanahaki!AU

AWAKENING by sol_moon “If there was a way to cure your cancer, would you take it?” He asked, his voice barely a whisper, silver eyes boring into her. She fought back a snort, despite the tense air. There was no cure, she knew that. But she might as well indulge him in his fantasies. “In a heartbeat.” modernvampire!AU

oneshots

I SHOULD LIVE IN SALT by larry_hystereks Alina returned back with the Darkling to Little Palace after he destroyed Novokribirsk. years pass. they grow together, build together, work together. And then she’s taken. (an exploration into their dream connection, a marriage, and finding their home)

ROYALS by larry_hystereks The married rulers of ravka celebrating their first anniversary together (au where they’re married and aleks surprises her for their anniversary with a puppy)

TALES FROM THE LIZARD BRAIN OF ALEKSANDER MOROZOVA by presidenthades The Darkling is a centuries-old mastermind with utter control over his basest instincts. His lizard brain does not always follow the agenda.

THE CALM BEFORE THE THUNDER by ceris_malfoy (Child, the Stag says. To the one that mattered, you were always enough.) When the Darkling asks, none of them seem to know why she isn’t waking, why her light feels like a slow drag in her veins to him instead of the rapids it usually is. On the 3rd day, he finally swallows, gathers his nerve, and mutters, “Her body is rejecting the amplifier.”

smut 🌶️🌶️🌶️

REFLECTIONS OF A SAINT by lightning_strikes_twice He tugs on the tie to her robe and she doesn't stop him. It's easy to shut her eyes, let herself drown in the feeling of assurance and right-ness when he touches her. It's not so bad, Alina thinks, to make mistakes in the dark.

SACCHARINE by valkyrhys Not many people surprise me, Miss Starkov, he had said all those months ago. Now, Aleksander sits back on his heels and looks down at his beloved Sun Summoner, his pretty little pet reduced to a mess of trembling limbs and gasping breath by his hand.

CONTROL by maleficar Aleksander impresses the importance of control on Alina. She is a quick study.

WE COULD HAVE HAD THIS by solnichka Alina cuts a deal with the Darkling in exchange for Mal's life, and the Darkling takes more than was bargained as they cross the fold.

AND MY BODY FOUND THE WIND by redbelles Alina rides a horse, and then something else entirely. (The Darkling. She rides the Darkling.)

LOVE AND WAR by starwarringavengers How the Winter Fete scene should have gone, if they weren't interrupted.

RAVENOUS by under_the_rose For obvious reasons, it's not widely known that the queen prefers the company of the General of the Second Army for her heats.

anything and everything by these authors

LARRY_HYSTEREKS PRESIDENTHADES DELLA19 INKY_PENS DESTINIES FIONAKEVIN073 ACEOFNOWHERE VUAS NYMJA

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elles-writing · 3 years ago

Text

Dragon Heart - IV.

Taglist: @guardianofrivendell @anjhope1 @legolasoftherings @kumqu4t @grunid @elvish-sky @artsywaterlily @alexloveskili

If you want to be added to tag list, send me a message or comment please.

Warnings/triggers: -

She looked over at Bilbo, who was stirring, and decided it would be a good idea to prepare him a cup of warm tea with some honey and milk. Y/N remembered Bilbo loved this as a child.

So, her next steps took her to the hobbit's kitchen.

Before she stepped inside, Y/N noticed one - perhaps from the older ones - dwarf, who prepared a steaming cup of tea already.

The dwarf didn't seemed to trust her - of course - but his eyes little softened, because she knew Gandalf and Bilbo.

"What tea is that?" Y/N asked instead, genuiely interested.

"Charmomile, for Master Baggins." Y/N hummed and the dwarf quickly left the little hobbit kitchen. You looked around, more concentrated this time. Then, you looked over the hall, pantry, and living room, where was Bilbo, Gandalf and some of the dwarves.

Baggins', now Bilbo's house, has never been un-practical. Maybe for Y/N by it's size, but other than that, there was everything one would need for life.

When Bilbo catched her eyes, Y/N could clearly see he was uncomfortable, upset and absolutely, absolutely done with the subject.

The dwarves.

But most importantly...

Gandalf.

You shrugged, and decided to leave him his burglar-not-burglar game. Bilbo would not be patient forever, but he was mannered and clever enough to know what to do. You were sure the hobbit would feel his Took side with desire for an adventure again.

And take his chance to escape Sackville-Baginses.

As you walked around, you noticed some of the pictures. They seemed to be new - or at least you didn't remembered them.

You walked closer, and stepped on something. You looked down, and noticed it was a dagger. You've never seen the design before, but assumed it must be one of the dwarves'. You picked it up and studied it, when you overheard a voice next to you.

"Careful with this, it's been just sharpened." You turned to see a blonde, blue-eyed dwarf, with braided moustache. He seemed to have the same twinkle in his eyes as Kili.

"I can handle sharp things," Y/N said and looked back at the knife.

"It's nice. Not too light, but not as heavy either." Y/N was thinking aloud. She completely forgot the dwarf next to her, as she studied the dagger.

"You know Master Baggins," He suddenly said. Y/N turned to him.

What the-did he just-

"I do," You nodded, and placed the dagger to his hand.

What the-no, he just didn't-

"You don't look like you are related," he continued.

"That's because we aren't." You ended the topic. Instead, it was your time to ask.

"Who are you?"

"Fili, at your service m'lady," he gently took your hand and kissed the back of your hand, his eyes not leaving yours.

"Y/N, at yours...Fili," You said.

"Oh, Y/N, can I-can I talk to you, for a second?" Bilbo came and you gladly walked aside with him, while Fili send you a wink.

"Bilbo, to answer some of your questions - no, I didn't knew-"

"I'm not talking about the, the dwarves," Bilbo looked over the room with frown on his face.

"Then what is it, my little friend?" You said quietly in attempt to brighten up the situation. Bilbo was almost adorable with frowned pouty face, hands folded on his chest, patting the floor with his foot...only if you could stand straight in his house. Your back thought the size of his house was not adorable at all.

"Well, um...did Gandalf told you to bring them along?" You looked at him with scrunched face, and rolled your eyes.

"I wouldn't be coming if I knew there were dwarves involved. So, if anything, I share your unpopular opinion." And ruffled his hair. He jumped up.

"I'm not a little hobbit anymore, you don't have to do this," Bilbo said through gritted teeth, and you grinned.

"Well, you still are kind of little," You teased him futher, until a dwarf with sharp blue eyes, long, dark hair, and the biggest grumpy and pouty face you've ever seen (not even Bilbo could do that, when he was angy little hobbit).

That dwarf shot you a glare, and also to Bilbo, who was taken aside by him and Gandalf, again.

You felt sorry for Bilbo.

When he was free, you overheard him muttering something about 'surely not going', 'not going anywhere', 'wizards', and so on. You decided to go to sleep, because all of the dwarves were asleep already, and you needed to be up early.

You woken up quickly. The first thing you've heard was the snoring. You scrunched your face, and quickly packed your things. Then, you walked out of Bag End, and decided to wait for them there.

The sunrise was nice time, especially to prepare your horse for the day.

"Shh," you cooed her quietly. It was beautiful mare, tall, and very, very clever.

"It will be okay. We will find dad, and we will go away, to live far away...everything is going to be just fine," You muttered.

"You ready?" Kili stood next to you with a grin on his face. You jumped up a little.

"I am." You said, and noticed Kili's expression as he looked at your horse. You let out a laugh.

"You've never seen a horse before?" Kili walked back a little.

"Not really," he said and you noticed his blushed cheeks.

"Kili!" You both looked over to Fili, standing between two ponies, who called him.

"Do you think Bilbo will come?" Kili asked you.

"That hobbit won't show up," Balin said. He was on his pony next to Kili, so he thought he talked to him.

"It's no surprise. Why would Master Baggins leave his home," Thorin (as was the grumpy dwarf named) said.

"I wouldn't understimate hobbits, and especially not Master Baggins," Gandalf said as he smoked his pipe.

"I am sure he is going to come," He said.

And that's when the bet started.

It wasn't even five minutes after you left Shire, when you overheard Bilbo's voice in the distance.

"Waaait!"

You looked over to Gandalf, who was hiding a laugh.

"You planned this?" You quietly asked and motioned to the hobbit, who was breathing heavily.

"Well, perhaps," he said, and you scoffed a little and shook your head, as the dwarves seated Bilbo on his pony.

The day was beautiful. It was actually quite warm, just warm so you could put down your cloak.

As the evening was approaching, and the sun was setting into palette of gold and velvet, and the sky was getting darker, Thorin decided it was time to set up camp. After a quick argument with Gandalf, the wizard left to seek company of himself. So, there was nothing easier, than to just finding the best place to place your bedroll.

You, Fili and Kili were on first watch. You laid down on your bedroll, and watched the stars. It was cloudless night, plus the crackling sound of fire, and smell of fresh night air was relaxing.

Bilbo was just coming back from his pony, when a sound in distance made him freeze.

"W-what was that?" He pointed to the distance, while looking at Kili.

"Orcs," he said in low, deep voice. You sat up. Bilbo had a part of Took in himself, but he was not that much of a Took.

"There is going to be plenty of those," Fili said, and, obviously, Kili continued.

"They come at night, no screams, just lots of blood," He looked at Bilbo, and the shadows in his face, along with his deep and low voice made it come out horribly scary. Him and Fili started chuckling, but you sighed.

"The way you two snore would make them run for hills, so I wouldn't be that worried," You said, and noticed Bilbo to relax by the corner of your eye.

Kili looked over at you. You pulled out book from your pack. He quickly recognized it, even in the darkness of the night. It was that book you flipped through back in Bag End.

You sat comfortably down, and looked over the illustrations on the pages, and softly touched them.

"What is the book you are reading about, lassie?" Balin asked. You didn't looked up.

"It's a book with tales and stories my...father wrote down," you answered.

"He used to read them to me," you shrugged.

"Would you read some of them-ow, what was that for?!" Kili whisper-yelled at his brother, who chuckled.

"You're a child, Kee," He muttered to himself, and Kili pouted. But Fili was curious as well, which Kili didn't needed to know.

"Well...this one," You flipped a few pages futher.

"This one is called Strange thief and the stars," Y/N comfortably sat and started reading.

"There was once a man. He wasn't very known by name, but by his eyes. His eyes, deep and dark, with sparkles, reminding of stars. Nobody has ever seen eyes like this before, and people were whispering he has stars themselves in his eyes," You slid the tips of your fingers over the drawing, remembering the precision your father has made into repairing them.

"Many women tried to grab his attention, but anytime they didn't sucsceeded, the sparks in their eyes were less visible, but in his as well. And that is why men has decided to call him 'the thief of stars', or a 'strange thief of stars'. He was wandering through the lands, until he found what, as he realized, was looking for,"

"What happened next?" Bilbo asked.

"That girl didn't want to talk to him. She was very kind and caring, but not naive. One day, however, she found a dragon. Big dragon, who seemed scary, but saved her from orcs. The beast's eyes reminded her of someone, yet she didn't knew of whom." You realized everyone was quiet, listening to you, as you spoken.

"The next day, she met the man. He runned into her, in a rush, in a fear - and asked her "Did you see the dragon too?". The young maiden nodded, and helped him to get to safety, as he was very nervous and scared. Since that day, they became closer and closer. One day, when a few years passed, her father - an old, wise and kind man - said, his daughter will marry someone, who gives her something very special. The young man came the next day in their house they lived in. He said," you flipped the page.

" 'I do not have much to offer - gold, silver, or gems - but I do have this," he took out a notebook out of his coat, and offered it. The girl's father took the notebook, and opened it. It was full of drawings of flowers, animals and people - but mainly of one special maiden, when she was laughing, collecting flowers, brushing her hair, cooking, reading...When she came there, and looked throught the book, her father looked at her, and she nodded. So, he looked deeply into the young man's eyes, and said 'She chose you.' "

You finished the story, and Kili giggled at how interested his brother was.

"Now who's the child here,"

#the hobbit #kili #fili #kili x reader #thorin #kili durin #fanfiction #fili x reader #bilbo #bilbo baggins #bilbo x reader #the company #the company x reader #thorin x reader

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flowerwrites06 · 4 years ago

Text

break my mind’s eye VII — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

JEON JUNGKOOK TIES THE KNOT!

‘It’s a sad day indeed as the most eligible bachelor in the city is now officially married! The ceremony took place in a garden like-setting on the grounds of the old Jeon manor where we could see the cherry blossoms falling on Kim Belle’s veil.

The couple absolutely glowed in the afternoon light and Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes off his new bride. While this relationship came as a surprise to everyone, many sources speculate that the two had been liaising for years in secret. Leave it the Jeon family to be as extravagant yet discreet as possible.

As per the family’s tradition, they will be staying in the manor for two nights before going back to their shared home.

Belle’s dress had been a little underwhelming to some of us until we got word that her waistline is encrusted with approximately 96 5 carat diamonds, the whole dress designed and created by Madame Saito, her mentor and one of the leading designers of our country. So appearances are quite deceiving as we’re looking at an easily $20, 000 wedding dress adorned by the new heiress.

The whole ceremony moved as smoothly as the falling flowers. Definitely a step up from the previous few articles written for Kim Belle in poor taste. The new Mrs. Jeon takes the award for being the most elegantly majestic bride of the year.’

“Sorry, sir?” Yoongi asked to make sure he heard Jungkook ask him to come over to his office for a private meeting. There were two ways this could go. Either a bullet in his head or a bullet he has to put in someone else’s head. Namjoon told him a lot of stories of how newer members of any mafia made you kill someone at least once to test true loyalty. Because really one could die to save themselves from any more misery but living their entire life responsible for a murder was a whole other story.

Jungkooks’ expression did not falter in the slightest, still in his proper wedding attire with a light tint on his lips from Belle’s lipstick. “It’s only going to be a few minutes.” He walked past him having every expectation of being followed.

Yoongi did not hesitate to continue walking along the large regal hallway before turning right into a dark rustic office. A much older man already situated himself on the couch while two guards stood on each side of a figure resting on his knees in front of the table.

The usual bright and luxurious light in the rest of the mansion unfortunately did not reach this room. Scent of tobacco mixed in with expensive cologne and sweat swirling in a dark room adorned with deep brown furniture. This was a place of purely business. Despite the pretty lavenders on Jungkooks’ breast pockets matching the flowers in Belle’s hair.

“Park Jeongsu…he was found in midst of exchanging letters to the mayor.” The older male spoke in a gruff tone possibly from the smoke infecting his throat.

“Thank you, uncle.” Jungkook stared down at the wooden box lined in purple velvet. “Do you see that? That’s what you called loyalty.” Fingers traced the outline of some diagram on the top that Yoongi could quite catch but it shone in gold. “Chul has been mingling with the likes of our own gang…” He scoffed with a smile. “Clever.”

Yoongis’ heart seemed quickly tumble down into a tight cage situated somewhere deep in an endless abyss. There was more sources for the mayor. Just how many rats did they have in this place? The man understandably was given minimal information so it was easy for him to stay unknowing and a little confused.

“I despise disloyal people, Jeongsu. I really do.” He attempted to give the trembling male an apologetic look but anyone could sense there was no sincerity. “Especially on one of most joyous occasions of my life, I expected all my soldiers to stay by my side. To protect me as I have tried to protect you and your families. I’ve always tried to be a gracious leader.” Jungkook shrugged. “If it were my father, your own balls would be stuffed down your throat until you choke to death.”

The mere description and Yoongi saw the male on his knees breathing heavily, the cloth around his mouth inflating at every breath.

“Of course today I can’t get my hands dirty.” He moved both hands away from the box. “I need to be gracious and generous today in honor of my new beloved wife.” Jungkook leaned on the edge of the table by his hands. “Thankfully my uncle was nice enough to question you while I was gone…” He gestured towards his blood soaked shirt and swollen eye. “So if you’ve come this far to me, that means you’re of no use.”

The words barely settled into the room but muffled protesting began from the vulnerable target. Even if the cloth wasn’t hindering his clarity, Jungkook and his uncle probably would not have had any remorse to step away. This wasn’t a family or business of mercy.

Flickering open the wooden box, Jungkook in his most casual aura picked up the shining silver object. Each bullet placed inside with heartwarming care before the older mans’ voice slithered through the intimate moment.

“Jungkook…” His uncle warned with a stern tone, smoke riddling the air around him. “It’s bad luck to execute someone on your wedding day.”

“I know.” He muttered without sparing him a sideways glance. Once everything had been prepared, Jungkook walked around the table and stood in front of the traitor. The gun handed out in Yoongis’ direction.

All eyes were on the male now and he never felt more uncomfortable in his entire life. He had been stuck in a trunk before so that was saying something. Eyes flickered from the older man to Jungkook to the male who clearly had been on his side. Of course refusing to do so would end with both their lives taken and then this whole operation would combust back into nothingness.

You’ve shot guns before. Not at innocent people.

No one was truly innocent. At least that was sentiment he plastered in his mind hiding away all the warnings and alarms from his conscience. Padding closer to where Jungkook stood, his heart raced faster at every step swallowing down any protest struggling to push through.

The thrashing faded away into a meek sob as Yoongi faced the man. Much to his discontent, the lack of lines on his face and the broken brightness in his eyes showed that he was but a boy. Possibly a tad younger than Jungkook himself or his age. Either way his mind now haunted itself with the prospect of killing a near child for the sake of his operation. Was it worth to take a life for this?

He was not the only one risking things however. This boy was one of many who were already victims of Jungkooks’ rule, at least Yoongi knew the one kneeling before him had fought for a cause.

Clicking back the safety, Yoongi tightened his jaw ignoring the tears streaming down their cheek and the giant eyes staring back at him.

For a few seconds the younger male calmed himself to an almost peaceful breathing state. It was brief and hard to truly notice but Yoongi saw the little nod he gave him. Reassuring the older male that this needed to be done. One life to protect the many.

In a rush of adrenaline Yoongi pulled the trigger. It wasn’t as loud as the guns he received in the precinct. Perfect for quick and quiet executions especially during these occasions. For a moment he could pretend that nothing even happened. Though blood leaking from the hole made on the others’ forehead spoke a truer story.

To the side he dropped, light thud echoing in the room before nothing but silence plunged comfortably.

“The den in Gongneung needs to be put under heavy security. I remember him one of the boys who was patrolling there.” Jungkook nodded towards the unmoving figure before fixated his gaze on the two guards who immediately bowed in response. “And I want a private meeting with the person who brought him in as a tribute.” He finally turned to Yoongi, expression softening a little at how frozen the man was. Carefully he patted him on the back. “You did well, Yoongi. I know being a medical apprentice, this isn’t exactly your line of work but I need to see whether it’s safe to have you around.” A small smile played on his lips. “I suppose I can always trust Belle’s judgement.”

Yoongi forced him to meet the younger male’s gaze, an awkward smile flickered but quickly faded away as he dumbly watched Jungkook take the gun away from him and put it on the table gently.

The boy lay limp on the dark wood slowly being painted with blood, deepening its hue into a deep wine glistening in the lowlight. Definitely not a sight supposed to be seen on an auspicious day.

Jungkook watched the blood ooze across the room and merely stood over it to move closer to the door. “Clean this up. No more tasks until I get to the mansion.” He ordered simply. “Yoongi…”

His attention flicked back to reality in a rush of cold air before following Jungkook along like a confused puppy.

As the bright light almost burned his eyes, Yoongi pretended that he just woke up from a really bad dream and nothing ever happened. He learned how to do that very quickly in his career especially after he shot his first person in the field. Not the healthiest way to cope but his pay did not actually cover for therapy.

Jungkook dug his hands into his pockets looking out the window. A bright, perfect day to be married after so long of hearing one proposal after the other. It was finally done. Eyes flickered towards the raven haired male who finally caught up to stand next to him. “Unfortunately I have to ask you another favor as well, Yoongi.”

“Does it involve me killing anyone? Can I have a five minute break first?”

The younger male chuckled before shaking his head. “No…it’s—it’s a little more delicate than that.”

Yoongis’ brows furrowed, all of his attention now dissipated into what he was going to say. Though he hated to admit he had a small idea of who it involved.

Jungkook stammered before glancing around the hallway and sighing. “It’s about the wedding night…”

The first thing she took off was her heavy earrings as they were led into one of the private rooms to change into more comfortable clothing. Apparently Boyoung wanted to have a small word with the two of them before they went off to bed. Her limbs felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets with how exhausted she was. Who knew just wearing a heavy dress and walking around would take so much out of you.

Belle understand on a whole new level just how models felt having to create such a strong demeanor that even pain could not pass across their features. Hours spent on chatting people up and others admiring the now famous waistline on her dress. The girl loved the dress more because of the fact Saito made it just for her made her happy enough.

Jungkooks’ hand permanently set on the small of her back. The man had disappeared for a while during the party but from the way his face tensed when he walked back here, she knew it had to do with work.

The guide opened a door for them and they were led into a room similar to the one Belle dressed up in for the ceremony.

Giving a kind smile to the guide, she walked and placed her earrings on the small table next to the bathroom. For the moment the couple had finally stood on their lonesome with no one to disturb them.

The young lord took the opportunity to pounce at his new bride and take her lips into his.

Her veil toppled off her head from the force and Belle couldn’t help but giggle a little into the kiss. “Not now.” She whispered.

“A few minutes.” Jungkook breathed out pulling her veil off gently before pressing a few more pecks on her soft lips. Whatever strain tightened up his nerves significantly loosened being around his only source for relaxation.

Belle hummed in protest, pressing against his chest to have him pause. “Your aunt is going to be here in a few minutes. We need to be decent.”

Jungkook merely smirked and gave her another peck just at the moment the door opened.

Boyoung gave her nephew a cheeky smile as he backed shyly before closing the door behind them.

“What did you want to talk about?” Belle asked with a sweet smile gracing her lips.

The older woman let out a sigh but still kept a decent smile gracing her features. She looked over at Jungkook who hung his head for a moment. “Dear…” Her tone rung grim and serious. A rare sound coming from a lady who always looked extremely happy every day. Once again the usual habit of holding Belle’s hands when she spoke of something. “The Jeon family has been around for many generations. Possibly longer than the city itself.” Boyoung chuckled lightly. “So with that age and prestige, there comes…a few traditions that lived on for our family’s continual survival.”

Belle nodded, trying to search her expression with the hope that was just some simple task she had to undertake. Maybe eating more fruits or balancing stuff on her head. Except the other womans’ voice sounded far too serious for something like that. Eyes flickered over to Jungkook who had his arms folded over his chest and his expression softened.

“Family members must be married at 21…” Boyoung repeated the tradition the couple already fulfilled. “They also need to carry on the line of the Jeon family.” Her grip tightened on her hands. “Do you have any conditions that may prevent you from having a baby?”

She stammered lightly. “No—I don’t think so.”

Boyoung nodded before giving her a smile except it wasn’t as bright more consoling.

“Why are we talking about babies now?” Belle smiled nervously.

She glanced over at Jungkook for a moment who tightened his jaw, seemingly unable to look Belle straight in the eye. “You understand the world we live in, dear. At some point, you both will need to dedicate yourself to your own lives just like Jungkooks’ parents did. Which is why we make a point to marry and have children in their brisk days.”

Belle’s lips parted for a moment, sensing where this now dreaded conversation was headed. “When—when do you want us to have children?”

Boyoung took a deep breath as the younger female had the urge to yank her hands away. “There is a ceremony on the wedding night for every Jeon wedding. I’ve done it, Jungkooks’ mother has done it and many of our ancestors. You are to—lay with one another that will give you a child.” She spoke carefully. “Because of a few incidents in the past, there is a strict rule that this ceremony must have two witnesses. Preferably people that the couple trusts not to fib or lie about the consummation.”

Her whole body felt like it burst into flames but no one noticed or cared. A little voice inside her screamed out so loud, Belle was worried she might actually mimic the volume right there and then. She really thought this conversation would not happen until a few years after the wedding, maybe when her heart wore down to the subject. How much more of her naivety was going to be shredded to waste before she realized these people did not care who they hurt. Especially when it came to their ideals.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, dear but—we must prepare tonight.” She caressed her cheek.

Belle could almost feel a slight sting on her skin at the seemingly affectionate movement. Blood curdling screams still echoed through her insides but on the outside, she nodded as any captive trying to live would do. Just nod and hope it ends quick.

Boyoung immediately smiled using the minor response as a reassurance boost before grinning at Jungkook. “I will see you both bright and early tomorrow.” She announced walking out of the door.

The couple now standing in a pit of thick silence.

“You knew about this.” Belle whispered, eyes growing glossier by the second as they stood face to face with one another. “Is that the part you conveniently forgot? The part where I’m supposed to make children for you tonight too.” She winced while Jungkook was trying conjure up words that would be most appropriate to reassure her.

Unfortunately the way their family worked and the way society worked were so far off from each other that even he felt helpless against it. “Belle, we’ve been doing it without protection this whole time. What’s going to be so different now?”

“They want me to be impregnated!” She shouted making the male hurriedly glance over at the door worried someone might be listening in. “With witnesses…” She whispered under her trembling breath.

“Baby, calm down.” He raised his hands to cup her cheeks, give her some form of comfort that he could while still making Boyoung and the rest of his family happy.

Belle roughly pushed him away, her bracelet tinkling and tugging at the fabric of his shirt when she moved back. “No that’s why you chose me, isn’t it?” Voice shook down to her very core as she yanked away from Jungkook attempting to hold her hand. “You wouldn’t feel bad if I was in display as opposed to someone you actually cared about.”

The lord paused in his tracks for a moment feeling his heart clench at the dark thought swirling in his wifes’ head. “I don’t want to do this just as much as you, B.” His words faded more into a mutter trying to keep the conversation private because he knew with all his soul that there was one person pressing their ear against the door. Thankfully most of these doors in the mansion were decently sound-proof. “You think I want people to see us like that?” He grabbed her by the cheeks now forcing to keep her close, noses just brushing against each other. “This is my family. You should know more than anyone that we can do everything for family.”

“Don’t do that.” She shook her head, breathing out a small sob and attempting to pull away from him again but his hands were firm to keep her still. “Don’t do that, this is not the same. It’s a baby—”

“I know.” He whispered, her pulse pounding against his palm making his stomach drop. “I do care about you. I care about you a lot…”

“No you don’t—” Belle hated that she was not just feeling anger pump through her veins but fear. Genuine fear. The permanency of what they were about to do could terrify anyone but at least normal people had the chance to say no or turn back.

“I do.”

She took a deep breath gently pushed his hands away. “If you did care about me…we wouldn’t be married. And I wouldn’t be preparing to be bred like an animal.” Swallowing down the painful lump in her throat despite the tears already trailing down her cheeks. People cried at weddings after all but rarely for this reason.

Before Jungkook could say another word Belle rushed away into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard it almost made even him jump.

No. No no no no no no no no no this was wrong. Of all the fucking things Yoongi witnessed in his entire life, this made him nauseous even thinking about it.

Witnessing impregnation. That’s what they called it, the men quietly smoking at the open area near the bedroom it was going to happen. The excited bastards looked to be about the age when it was acceptable in their time to behave in this manner, chin sagging down to their toes.

So along with mass selling drugs, the Jeon family loved impregnating their women in front of other people. How unsurprisingly disappointing.

The worst part was that Yoongi had a feeling Belle wasn’t a long-time girlfriend of Jungkook. He wasn’t even sure if the two were a real couple. But a child is fucking real. This wasn’t a fantasy game anymore for status, this was solidifying a future that the woman probably didn’t even want.

Silence plunged into the room when from the corner of his eye a lavender adorned figure stepped in next to Jungkooks’ aunt.

His plump lips curled up into a smile at the older female, bowing down before a grim expression flashed across his face and Yoongi immediately knew why he was here.

Jimin looked around at the people in the room and his heart dropped seeing the chortling men at the corner. He prayed to the high heavens none of them were going to be in the booth observing this horrendous ceremony. Instead his eyes flickered to the man he hoped was Yoongi. “Witness?” He asked briefly. Much to his somewhat relaxation, Yoongi nodded.

“This your first time?” One of the older man asked the two males.

They both agreed shortly and the older man laughed.

“Oh it’s better than it sounds. In all my experiences, they both loved it. Sometimes it’s a sweet affair.” He smiled.

“And other times?” Yoongi asked daringly.

Unfortunately the men shifted uncomfortably, the slightly younger ones cleared their throats while the older ones looked more grim than normal.

“Virgins are the worst to endure.” The oldest one there spoke up, shaking and sitting on the chair. “Crying…blood…those are the ones you need to worry for the most.”

“We haven’t had a virgin in a long time though.” A more springy man spoke up. “A few of us suggested that the mating ceremony should not be mixed in with losing one’s virginity. Not much fun for the to-be mother or father.”

Yoongi swallowed down thickly, their casual tone about this whole mess making him even more nauseous.

The conversation was immediately paused when Boyoung padded back into the room. “It’s time now, boys. Into the booth.” She muttered almost under her breath gesturing towards to the gap on the left of the entrance.

Taking calculated steps one after the other, Yoongi simply followed the lavender adorned male through the small opening into a tiny booth. Their shoulders brushing against each other as they observed the beautiful designed window, vectors formulating the letter ‘J’ mixed with butterflies and flowers.

However through the window was something far less pleasant.

Silence diseased the large room. Belle was left to hear her own hurdling thoughts just to stay sane. From the corner of her eye she noticed the shifting through the open window with a designed barrier to create some kind of class to this horrid tradition.

His hand pushed her chin so her gaze could be fixated on him. “It’s just you and me, okay?” Jungkook whispered. “Just us.”

Like a brainwashing scheme where Belle was stuck in a river between a bank of fantasy and a bank of reality. They were not alone. She could feel the familiar eyes burning right into core. But what was so new about pretending? She pretended this to a point where her entire life was now dedicated to the man before giving no chance of another life.

If Jungkook couldn’t get out this then how could she ever think the same? It wasn’t like she could run away either, there was no one around to help her. No one to stop this.

Hand gently cupped her cheek before leaning in for an initiating kiss, light warmth spreading through her. His lips became so familiar for comfort nowadays that Belle lost a little of her conscious sense for her own peace of mind.

However this was not meant to be an act of love or even attraction. She was reminded of this when Jungkook pushed the fabric of her dress up without warning. “I’m sorry.” He whispered in her ear. No this was a responsibility. A chore to get done on a to-do list curated for the young lord.

Made to lie on her back, Belle’s vision grew blurry feeling her legs being spread apart with the utmost care but hardly any of the warmth she usually remembered. Then there came the burn through her entrance as he pushed in. A trembling breath passed through her lips struggling to keep composure in such a vulnerable position.

Walls ached the deeper he moved in, his one hand gripping at the sheets until his hips stilled once she was completely full with his already throbbing cock.

Her gaze flickered up to the cherry blossom paintings on the ceiling, pretending a cool spring breeze touching her face and the sound of water flowing. This isn’t real. For a second Belle forced herself to drown into a pool of fantasy. This wasn’t real. The pain faded minutes ago and so did her sense of consciousness.

She wasn’t here, arms pinned down by strong hands and hot breath cascading down her neck. No it was back at the boutique. Belle spending hours sewing her favourite daffodil yellow dress with a tall cup of iced coffee and her hair in a comfortable bun.

Her head was pulled back into reality when Jungkook pressed a kiss on her lips and it all poured back into her. Legs aching from the spread, her heat a little numb from the friction while no sound passed her lips except for light heaving.

Yoongi struggled to control his heavy breathing as the scene took place before him. The man felt like a prisoner witnessing his inmate being beaten. He just had to watch cruel reality play out it’s painful dance. Having the stomach for it was not his biggest issue. Except he knew Belle was not here out of unconditional love for Jungkook. He promised himself to always help people in need but truly aiding someone to freedom required a hefty journey in the process.

Right at this moment however that sentiment seemed like empty words.

This was not Belle’s world. The idea itself was what caused a pit in his already upset stomach. She didn’t grow up in this life nor did she choose it. It was never supposed to a part of her but now she had to deal with evil test of fate.

Jungkook intertwined his fingers with her loose ones, pressing reassuring pecks on her jawline as his hips snapped against hers. Sneaking a free hand between her legs he rubbed onto her clit hoping to give her some kind of pleasure while his own orgasm rolled to the edge.

A light tickle shot through her but stopped midway when she could feel him reaching his release. The way his face contorted and his thrusts grew desperate but sloppy.

This isn’t real. Fingers fisted at the sheets. This isn’t real. A light groan uttered under his breath. This isn’t real. More tears burning and gathering at her overflowing eyes.

This is real.

The man stilled as his release burst through his veins.

Her body lay compliant as she felt herself being filled up to the brim. Belle sucked onto her bottom lip, closing her eyes almost trying to turn back time somehow.

Jungkook hesitantly leaned in and tried to press a kiss on her cheek.

“Get off me.” She whispered. “Please.”

The male paused feeling a burning behind his eyes when she still tried to be kind despite what he did. Pulling out of her gently, Jungkook got off the bed with a shaky sigh curling his hands into fists when he couldn’t comfort her. How could he? He was the reason she needed comfort in the first place. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jungkook turned away to the bathroom.

Yoongi didn’t realize he had been gripping onto the grill of the window the whole time, until he felt something wet on his palms. When he pulled away it felt like taking a splinter out tiny little bleeding holes interrupting the lines.

His ears pricked up at the trembling sigh the other let out.

When he looked over at him, his cheeks were already stained with tears while a few more flooded at the brim watching Belle slowly shift to the middle of the bed. “I have—” The male whispered before swallowing down painfully. “I have to go to work after this.”

The both of them helplessly watched the girl shake and force herself to sob quietly as she fixed her dress.

“Please…go see if she’s okay. If you can.” The pleading look in Jimin’s eyes mimicked the ache in his exhausted heart. They both knew Belle didn’t deserve this mess. They both witnessed her kindness and now saw her pain.

Yoongi nodded even though it was clear there was nothing any of them could do for her right now. Not at this moment. God if he could just tell him right there and then that he was trying his best to help her out of here.

But when he saw the way Belle curled into herself and tried to take to deep breaths while tears were still streaming down her face.

He knew he had to do a whole fucking more than his best.

Two nights later.

Sun felt warm on her skin, shoes crunched against the pavement as she relished in the murmurs and cheers of the market. How long had it been since the woman had just walked through this corner of wonders? All the high fashion shows, sleek garments and elegant wear were almost nothing compared to the raw simplicity of the red cotton or hand crafted jade jewelry. Belle remembered how she used to create necklaces out of flowers and little stones giving it to Taehyung as a gift because he was the only one who would accept it.

No matter how high she went in this pillar of success, this still brought a warmth in her heart without fail.

Wandering eyes paused on one clothing stall in particular. Padding closer, she saw the smallest pair of yellow shoes shining in the sunny day just at the edge of the display. A smile tugged at her lips when she noticed tiny daisy details embroidered onto it. Carefully the woman picked the pair up almost worried that it might fall apart because they looked so delicate and innocent.

“You have child?” The lady at the stall smiled at her kindly as she waved herself with a fan to waft away the heat.

Belle smiled, relishing the soft fabric under her fingers pads almost acting as a therapeutic substance. “Not yet.” She chuckled softly. “How much is this?”

The lady boxed the shoes up carefully before handing it to her with a bracelet for free. When Belle tried to refuse, she waved it off with that same sweet smile. “It’s for good fortune.”

With slight reluctance the girl thanked her again and moved onto the other stalls. As her eyes wandered, she stopped at the sight of a familiar figure walking out of the market area towards a pay phone. Forehead knitted and curiosity peeking, Belle moved to the more crowded areas so she could see what was happening without being caught. Sneaking around was not the most elegant behavior but at this point, the girl lost all care of what was proper and improper.

Pausing behind the payphone Belle hugged the bag to her chest finally catching Yoongis’ voice speak into the call.

“Jeon family is more traditional than you think, man. They had witnesses to watch the consummation.” Anger was clear in his tone especially in the way it rasped a little more when he tried to lower his volume. “Jungkook handpicked the damn witnesses, what kind of fucked up family is this?”

Belle felt a strange air of relief hearing someone else say those words other than her screaming it over and over again in her mind. Despite the urge to thank him for reassuring her sanity, she stood still to listen when he spoke up again.

“Jungkook is adding extra security to the Gongneung den, all his strongest supplies are there. He knows there’s rats in his empire so we need to get this done before he finds a way to hide all of it again.” His voice was much lower than before.

The woman still caught all the words that were needed however. Heart pounded against her ribcages padding closer to the payphone until the worry of Yoongi seeing her did not resonate anymore.

Yoongi gave a few more words of encouragement to Namjoon before doing his checks again and the sound around him numbed. He saw a familiar reddened and teary gaze fixated on him. For a moment he wanted to believe that she just arrived not hearing a word of their conversation but he knew better than to be so naïve.

Before he could think up a strategy, Belle rushed over to the male in a huff and stood merely a breath away from him with her back pressed slightly against the phone. There was a flash of anger on her face before it faded into something that made Yoongi wish the anger could come back again so he could endure it better.

“You’re a police officer?” Bottom lip trembled and her already exhausted eyes flooded with heavy tears. “And you just watched that happen?” Belle knew why Yoongi couldn’t just burst into the room and stop the event just like she couldn’t stop Jungkook or Boyoung from going on with tradition. But the sensible side of her lost its way that night and now the girl found it far too difficult to find it.

“If I could, I would’ve shot all of them right there and then.” He murmured feeling his stomach drop at the way her voice couldn’t keep any of its usual composure anymore. “I want you to get out of this. I really do. But we need to—we need to work together if this is ever going to stop.” His words dialed down to a whisper now that their faces were merely a breath apart. It took a few minutes for him to realize that his hand was caressing her cheek, sloppily wiping away the tear that flowed down to his thumb.

How long had it been since she wanted to hear someone say those words? Someone that could help her get out of this. A part of her would have agreed in seconds, for the first time falling into another’s arms and feeling like she did not have to do anything. But the tiny yellow shoes in the bag grew heavy on her. “Yoongi—” Belle breathed out staring down at her purchase, hands shaking.

Confused eyes flickered down to follow her gaze and immediately saw the miniscule box inside the bag. “What’s wrong?” He opted to search her expression now. “Belle?” Some side of his mind tried to shout that his hand should be back in his pocket. If anyone saw the two standing this way then they would both be in trouble and none of this would be worth it. But she felt so warm and broken that he was afraid they both would fall apart if he moved even the slightest away.

Belle stammered trying to form the words somehow before sniffling. “I’m pregnant.” She sobbed lightly.

The news lingered heavily in the air between them and Yoongi felt like the wall of his mind close into this one thing. All of the things—all of these goals now stripped down to these two words that he prayed would not be true. He knew it might be possibility. He saw the whole thing happen with his own two eyes but for some reason a more naïve part of him—whatever was left of it—wanted to believe they had time. Yoongi took a deep breath before shaking his head. “It’s okay…we’ll figure it out.” He made her meet his gaze. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

She closed her eyes, nodding while her tears seemed to take their own freedom down her face. “Okay.” Words came out in a whisper.

The older male couldn’t help but mimic her nodding for a moment, slowly moving his hand away and hoping no one in the town recognized them. “Do you need a ride home?”

Quickly the girl shook her head feeling an ache in her belly calling the place ‘home’. It would be their child’s home. She would have to accept that someday. “Can we—” She glanced over at the bustling market. “Can we walk through the market for a little bit?” A sad smile tugged at her lips though her eyes glinted with desperation to capture any sense of false joy that came across the path.

Yoongi swallowed a small, unexpected lump in his throat before glancing at the market. “Yeah…of course.”

Maybe a few more minutes of blinded excitement could redeem that little piece of sanity.

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#jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook mafia au #bts mafia au

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geminil0vr · 4 years ago

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𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 !

the masterlist -> part two

summary ✰ your relationship with your boyfriend, ben, has been a little (a lot) rocky from the start. back from a session of him not even trying to help you finish, you run into pansy in your dorm room, and it's safe to say she has some suspicions.

tags ✰ @partr1dge <3

wc ✰ 1.7k

content ✰ fake moaning, toxic relationship, a little smut, sexual themes galore, cumming (not just yet for our dear reader), (constant) mentions of shitty sex experiences, lying, endless cursing, reader is h word, getting dressed, mentions of homework (this one should be classified as a warning), snooping/stealing

a/n ✰ this is pretty much just a short intro, some backstory and all that !! i hope you like it. and be careful, past the read more it pretty much goes directly into some smut/sexual themes. okay, happy reading :))

with a few final thrusts, your boyfriend comes inside you, quickly pulling out and rolling next to you on the bed. you laid there, as usual, fake moaning, pushing back onto him. and he went quick, not doing anything to make you feel good, and pulling out before you've even come (though, when the only thing he does is piston in and out of you like a personal fleshlight, that's unlikely to happen). this is how all your sex happens, usually.

ben turns to smile at you, cupping your cheek in the palm of his hand. "did you cum?"

ha, did you fuck. he's not even done foreplay. "yeah! like, twice. didn't you notice?"

you've found that the only way to entertain yourself is by making even more outlandish statements each time you fuck. well, he fucks you. well — no, it isn't really fucking. he actually has the nerve to ask why you make him use lubrication every time... perhaps it's because he refuses to eat you out, or even play with your clit for more than fifteen seconds, or finger you to prepare you. in the early days, he tried, and you repeatedly went to tell him what you liked. and, not enjoying being told what to do, he did it how he wanted, and now consistently leaves you in a confused state of 'how can i be so horny when he did the bare minimum?'. ben calls it domination. you call it ignorance.

another way you've found to entertain yourself, is by making sex a performance. see, when you first started off, you were a virgin, and although well-educated on sex and the things you might like, you didn't feel inclined to fake anything. now, you've been with ben for around six months, but in your first one he put up this façade of a romantic, so you had gone and fallen (tripped, stumbled, collapsed, grazed your fucking knee) for him. you'd fallen for roses, and dates, and... well, that was it. your standards were pretty low back then — christ, you were sixteen! and when you two finally did anything, two months into the relationship (despite his relentless begging), the glass window was shattered.

ben is selfish. once you sucked his dick, and let him fuck you (the definition of fuck is still on thin ice, really), the romance came around less often. you thought it was just a typical couple thing. you mean, your past relationships lasted about a month or two. you thought this was the average.

until your friends, well, they got boyfriends and girlfriends, and now they're always grinning, and they have little spats that are easily resolved with communication, and they're in love. and the way they speak about sex, merlin, it's like a fantasy out of some erotica book. 'he did this', 'she did that', 'it felt so good', 'it's like they know exactly what i want'. so when your friends turned to you about your sex life, you put all your walls up, and you told them some phoney story about how he's your best lay (... your one lay) and how he's so bloody good at taking care of you.

you still feel bad for lying to them. but it's been four months, now. you don't want to go back, not that they would be mad at you, but you're almost embarrassed about how long you've stayed. you know they'll make you break up with him, considering what an arse he is in and out of the bedroom, and you're scared to get into drama, and you're scared he'll be upset, and you're scared that a little part of you still clings onto your old, false perception of him, so you stay. you know it isn't healthy. but you stay.

and you make sex the greatest show of your life, you arch your back, you moan, you gasp, you refrain from telling him that when he cups your breast it feels like nothing, you curl your toes, you remain submissive. in bed, you're a porn star of a very vanilla, one-man show. and you give yourself a five-star fucking rating. of course, you only started this when you realised he would never listen to you. ben just reckons he's got really good in bed all of a sudden.

"you alright?" ben is already in his trousers, buttoning up his school shirt. you're still in only your bra on the bed. 'course, no aftercare.

"yeah, sorry, dazed off." hurrying to get dressed, you kiss him on the cheek (he doesn't like kissing on the lips once he's come in your mouth) and rush to your dorm, tie hanging underneath your collar. class is in forty minutes. when you two started, you were five minutes into a free hour.

the slytherin common room is moderately empty, most people being in class already or making use of their free hour, and when you drag your shoes all the way to your dorm room, you definitely don't expect to see pansy parkinson flipping through a magazine on top of her emerald duvet.

see, you've known pansy since first year. she isn't much involved in the slytherin girl group, but she gets along quite well with everyone, sometimes participating in sleepovers if she feels like it, and always cracking clever and bitter jokes. pansy's a nice girl, though relatively bitchy with the gryffindors, and you quite like her, and she quite likes you. it's a mutual agreement, you say 'hello' in the mornings, and she'll ask you for a quill from time to time, and you'll hand it to her, and when you two are drunk out of your minds you do challenges to see who can drink the most, in your dorm room, as all your other friends giggle and watch on. it's a good, solid, friendship, albeit not super close.

and just as you would feel with any friend, your dishevelled appearance (undone tie, messy hair from your 'performance', untucked shirt) immediately embarrasses you as you stand in the doorway.

"oh. hi, pansy." you give a tight smile, shutting the door behind you and going to do your tie, before giving up because, well, you're shite at doing ties, and tossing it on your bed. "what're you still doing here?"

she's not stopped eyeing you since you came in. "gee, lovely to see you too, y/n. and, couldn't be bothered to socialise. draco's being a dick." she looks over your appearance critically, raising a sharp brow. "had fun? good lay?"

"y—es. 'course." you swallow, diverting your attention to your school bag, attempting to disguise the fact that you certainly did not have fun. nor a good lay; couldn't be more the opposite, actually. well, you were lying down?

she pauses, clenching her jaw before tossing the magazine to the side and narrowing her eyes, one leg crossed over the other, arms crossed over her chest. head tilted. lips parted. "you okay, there?"

taking a deep breath, you kick your shoes off and turn around with a gentle smile, passing a comb through your hair. "yeah, why?"

"just, you look more like you've been dragged through a bush than been fucked." her face is completely blank, and your cheeks grow hot from her crude vocabulary, but nonetheless you chuckle. looking down, you notice that one of your thigh high socks is rolled to your mid-calf. thank god the hallways from the ravenclaw tower to the dungeons, and your common room, were pretty much empty when you walked through.

you roll it back up and begin tucking in your shirt. referencing to your sock, you grin. "stylistic change. and yeah. ben, well, he's quite the animal in bed." more like a tortoise. not because of speed, but have you seen how they mate?

"hmm." she hums, tucking a strand of short black hair behind her ear, and nodding before picking back up her drama magazine to look over different pages as you quietly put your clean clothes away. a comfortable silence settles in the room while you take the time to get out your homework, sitting on your bed and correcting a few of your grammar mistakes. it's a long while before pansy speaks again, not looking up from the pages. "gilderoy lockhart still hasn't got back his memory."

"awful shame," you smirk, finishing up your work and putting it away before bounding over to her four-poster bed. sitting down, you fold one leg under the other that remains firmly planted on the carpet. your eyes gloss over the painfully colourful magazine with wizard celebrities plastered all over it, "tell me, why do you read such trashy things?"

"found it in daphne's drawer." she shrugs, rifling through some more pages.

"you went through daphne's drawer?"

"was bored. 's not really interesting in there." pansy deadpans, "doesn't even have any sex toys." then she grins cheekily, pearly whites on display. you suck at your teeth and shake your head in amusement, chuckling and getting up.

"dickhead. put it back before she notices!" you exclaim.

"alright, then." she rolls her eyes playfully, and bounces up, smoothing out her short, school skirt and slipping the magazine back into daphne greengrass' bedside table.

with only ten minutes to get to your transfiguration class, you start to clean up your appearance, leaving just the top button of your shirt undone and attempting to do your tie. pansy slips on her high-top converse (mcgonagall will have her head for that), doing the laces and glancing over at you every few seconds as your fingers fumble with your dark green tie. how many years at hogwarts, and you still can't do it right? you squint in the mirror hung up on the wall, once more wrapping the thicker part of the tie around the thinner part, tucking it under, making a loop, tucking the — wait, how did it go again?

"here, let me do it, since you're so bloody incapable." pansy storms over, exasperated from watching you fail, grabbing you by your shoulders to twist you around and taking matters into her own hands. she does it expertly, because of course, she's a pureblood, and purebloods just have to be bloody good at everything. tightening it up just a little, she folds down your collar and smooths her fingers over your shirt, before coming up behind you and getting up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around your shoulders and make sure the tie is well situated. you hold in a breath as her fingers brush against your neck — really, that dumbarse boyfriend of yours leaving you high and dry makes everything get you worked up.

finally, pansy works some of her fingers through your hair, smoothing out the messy strands framing your face and placing her hands firmly on your shoulders. "perfect." and she's gone, grabbing her bag and swinging out the room before you can even utter a 'thank you'.

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frostsinth · 3 years ago

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Burdened by the Stars - Pt. 5

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 - MasterList - Art

Holy Shit, it’s an update! A real update! For an existing story! Not a new project, not some random side quest.

Hey! I’m not dead! Whooo!

Welp. I hope you guys enjoy this! I’ve started writing the next chapter already, so hopefully it won’t be another four months for an update. Thank you for your patience! Lots of love.

Requested tags: @lightning-butterfly

“Auntie Gana!” Lorette squealed excitedly, launching herself onto my back and wrapping her arms around my neck. “I found you!”

I jumped nearly a foot, then laughed to dispel my jitteriness. Nearly toppling over entirely as her brother Corwin gave a shout upon the discovery of us both and jumped right on top. Our combined hot breath billowing like a cloud around us.

The afternoon with my nieces and nephews had certainly been refreshing. Though the mountain air of the goblin castle gardens was cold (colder even than the usual winter temperatures at lower altitudes), with all the running around we were doing, I hardly noticed. The six of them had been ecstatic to be pulled from their lessons early for the day, and had nearly bounced off the walls. Much to the disdain of their tutor, who gave me a dark glower as I pried the youngest off their chalkboard. But as I was the goblin Princess, and technically an adult, they had no recompense against my decision to dismiss them for the day to take over supervision of my nieces and nephews.

“It’s your turn to find us, Auntie!” Corwin informed me as Izaak and the twins skipped over. Likely alerted by the sounds of my hiding spot being uncovered.

I nodded my agreement, tossing Lorette over my shoulder as I stood up. She squealed and kicked, laughing so hard she was breathless. Her red braids slapping about her face as she wriggled. I glanced up at the sky, feeling the edge of anxiousness at the pestering thoughts of what Erramun might be doing. It was a thought that had often interrupted my afternoon. Leaving me more than a little distant and distracted, to the point where even my youngest charges were starting to notice. Hopefully he was still asleep, or at least resting quietly. Though with the sun sinking ever lower, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could assure myself of that.

“Alright, one more round.” I told them, placing Lorette back on her feet. “Then I’ve got to get you all back inside to wash up before dinner.”

I ignored the round of groans at my response. The twins, Yua and Hilal, each grabbed on to one of my legs and began to loudly proclaim I’d have to drag them inside if that’s what I wanted. Hilal even argued that she wasn’t hungry, and that dinner was going to be yucky anyway, so there was no point going in. Apparently Niko was currently on a healthy eating vendetta. Feeling that his family was far too indulgent in sweets and treats not indicative of a well-rounded diet for growing boys and girls. So he had taken a firm mindset and an iron grip on what was being cooked and served for their meals. A decision that I gathered was not sitting well with his offspring. Or his husband, evidently. I looked around four a moment as Lorette ducked under my elbow and tugged on it insistently.

“Where’s Viktor?” I asked Izaak, who was currently having a shoulder shoving match with Corwin, the closest to him in age with only a year between the two.

“Viktor?” Izaak took a step back, letting his brother topple to the ground at his feet as he turned his attention to me. Craning his neck back to look up at me with his soft, umber eyes. “He went to pick flowers I think.”

“Shut up, you ninny!” Cried Yua, jumping up from my leg and shoving her older (and much larger) brother to little effect. “He wanted to surprise Auntie Gana!”

Izaak gave the 6 year old a barely concealed scowl. “Well then he shouldn’t have taken so long.” The little prince squared his shoulders and tucked his hands behind his back. “He should have stayed with the rest of us, now it’s getting dark.”

“It is getting dark,” I agreed, reaching out to ruffle his messy blonde hair, “We should go find him.”

Izaak squealed in displeasure, pushing my hand away. “Auntie! Please don’t touch my hair! It took me forever to get it combed straight!”

Corwin, having scrambled back up, attempted to now launch himself at his sibling. Trying unsuccessfully to rangle Izaak to the ground. They may have been close in age, but Corwin was a full blooded goblin, leaving him smaller and lankier than his half-blooded older brother. Izaak was tall, even for a human child at his age, and while Corwin was by no means a runt, he would likely never quite manage to catch up. Still, he gave Izaak more than a little trouble, hanging off him as he was.

“Be careful not to get Crown Prince Izaak messy!” He mocked as he did, giving a sharp toothed smirk, “Papa is never messy, so Crown Prince Izaak can’t be messy either!”

“Get OFF, Cory!” Izaak howled back, beating a little fist into his brother’s back.

“Alright, that’s enough,” I told them, prying Corwin off and tucking him under one arm despite his wiggling and the fact that one twin was still latched to my leg, “Come on, we’ve got to find Viktor before it gets too dark.”

“He’ll get scared if it gets too dark,” Yua reminded the others busily.

“He can’t see in the dark like us,” Hilal finished, tugging on my skirts and offering me a traditional pointy toothed grin from her place still wrapped around my leg.

I glanced at her, returning her smile, then at Yua, now standing over her sister to tug at my skirts. The pair weren’t actually twins; Niko and Grier had adopted both of the goblin girls at the same time as chubby infants, and they had fast become inseparable. Now they championed the title of ‘twins’, rarely going anywhere without each other and making it a point to finish each other’s sentences. And thoughts, at times. It helped some that they didn’t look particularly dissimilar, though Yua had copper brown hair while Hilal’s was nearly pitch black. Other than that, they were the same age and height, and tended to prefer the same clothes and hairstyles. I brushed a few wild strands of Hilal’s hair out of her face as I finally put a kicking and wriggling Corwin back on his feet.

“But Auntie Gana,” Whined Lorette, “If we spend all that time looking for Viktor, we can’t play one last round!”

I thought about that for a second, tapping my fingertips dramatically against my lips as goblins did and leaving the children giggling excitedly. I had long ago adopted it as my signal to show them I had something fun planned for them. I could see them all bouncing on their toes eagerly as they waited. Even Izaak, trying so hard to be stoic and proper as he thought a Prince should be, had a glimmer of light dancing in his wide eyes.

“Well then, we’ll just have to make a game of it.” I told them. “First one to find Viktor… Gets dessert after dinner.”

I didn’t have to say it twice to have 4 of the five children screeching with delight and bounding off through the gardens. Certainly they must be deprived of sweets for such an incentive to work. I almost laughed at that, and almost being able to picture the tiniest of scowls at the corner of Niko’s lips when he found out. Soon their bobbing heads had disappeared among the hedges and paths. Izaak looked like he wanted to join them, his body slightly angled as if to launch into a full sprint. But he stopped, hesitating and looking up at me.

“Are you ok, Auntie Gana?” He asked me quietly, shuffling in place.

I looked at him in surprise. “Of course, Izaak! Why?”

He shrugged, bringing his hands around to rub at the palm of one. “I just thought you seemed a little quiet today… Are you and papa fighting?”

I almost groaned. “Did your inunu put you up to this? Or Niko himself?” I asked knowingly. Eying my oldest nephew suspiciously. Wondering if he had been spying on me this entire time. And also wondering if i had given anything away.

He gave me a sheepish grin. “Both. Inunu promised I could have three isiok if I asked, and papa said I could stay up a whole hour late with him.”

I would have laughed, shaking my head and putting my hands on my hips. “Is that why you aren’t racing off with your brother and sisters to find Viktor?” I reasoned, and he nodded.

“I already get dessert, even if someone else finds him.” He told me, sounding pleased with himself. “Papa doesn’t know inunu already asked, and inunu doesn’t know papa asked!”

I did laugh then, reaching out and giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze as we turned to make our way off the grass and walk along the main garden path. Mindful of his hair per his request. It hadn’t appeared particularly neat, but I was sure the messy locks were quite uncooperative. And I knew how much he tried. He slipped in a little closer, matching my stride with his and squaring his little shoulders again. I smiled to myself. He looked so much like Niko when he did that. A tiny little green-skinned, blonde-haired Niko, I corrected myself with amusement, but Niko-esque for certain.

“Two birds with one stone,” I mused aloud, wrapping my arm about his shoulders, “Very clever of you, Your Highness.”

He couldn’t seem to help grinning again, looking down at his shiny boots. “Yeah, but I think it only works if I have something to tell them.”

I shook my head once more, kicking up a little gravel as we went. “Not at all! The promise from both of them was just for you to ask me right? They didn’t say you had to get an answer.” I grinned back at him. “Or that you couldn’t tell me they asked you to.”

He seemed to think about that for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, Auntie, you’re right!” He looked up at me again, tilting his head to the side. “So you don’t have to tell me… unless you want to, that is.”

I sighed a little. “Alright, here’s what you can say. You tell Niko I said that he needs to stop treating me like a baby and pestering me all the time. And tell Grier I said you should get four isiok, because you are a very sweet and clever little Prince and you deserve all the extra dessert you want.”

Izaak chortled, nodding in bemusement. “Alright Auntie. I can do that.”

“And tell them Lorette gets dessert tonight too,” I proclaimed more loudly, as the rest of the gaggle returned, the half-goblin triumphantly holding a screeching Viktor over her shoulder, “As she is the best little brother wrangler of all time.”

That brought a round of giggles as Lorette passed her still kicking brother to me. Viktor stuck his tongue out at her, then quickly offered up a messy fistfull of half pulverized flowers to me.

“You’re not coming to dinner, Auntie?” Corwin asked, shoving Hilal out of the way to come and stand next to my leg.

“Not tonight.” I told him, reaching down to push his curly black hair out of his eyes after taking the flowers from Viktor with a pleasant thanks. “I’ve got… other stuff to do.”

“Lorette cheated!” Squealed Yua, stomping one foot angrily.

“She’s bigger than us! We can’t carry Viktor like she can!” Hilal agreed, pouting.

“Not forever,” I assured her, “Soon, I think Viktor will be taller than all of you!” I hoisted him up into the air over my head in illustration, which had him giggling with delight. “Besides, the deal was whoever found Viktor got dessert, not who carried him back.” I turned to the twins, who looked at each other for a moment before turning back to me. “And who found Viktor?”

“Lorette.” They admitted begrudgingly.

“So, the dessert award stands as it is.” I declared, putting the youngest back down on his feet to hold his hand instead. Not that I felt particularly bad. I knew my brother’s sense of fairness was indomitable, and having granted one child such permissions, I had likely granted it to them all. “Now, let’s get you all inside and washed up before your fathers take away my dessert.”

That brought a fresh round of laughter, and the six royal children of the goblin kingdom darted eagerly around my legs and up and down the halls as we made our way back up to our quarters. I spared the tower a final glance before we ducked into the castle, wondering not for the first time just what I would find when I went back to my own rooms.

.....

I was able to hand off my nieces and nephews to their caretakers after helping them all get washed up and changed for dinner without running into either Niko or Grier. Which I took as a small blessing, as I kept nervously glancing out the window to try and gauge just how long I had left until the Kings might just decide to pop in. I knew it was unlikely; usually they met their brood in the dining room at the end of each day. But I didn’t put it past either of them to attempt to catch me unawares. Especially as I was sure they had already heard I had liberated their children from their studies early to play with them in the gardens. Little went on in the castle that the two didn’t know about.

That thought made me smirk to myself in accomplishment as I hesitated outside my own door, having seen the Princes and Princesses off down the stairs with their attendants before heading back down the hall. Certainly I could think of no one else who would have been able to smuggle an orc of all things into the castle undetected. I had even managed to get his mare into the stables with no one batting an eye at her blood splattered coat before I had picked up my nieces and nephews. I glanced about briefly to make sure I was alone once more before I slipped back into my rooms. My heart in my throat and my nerves jumping on end.

The sitting room was quiet and dark, and I closed the door and latched it behind me. My eyes strained in the dimness, with only the barest hints of light coming from under the door to the hall. Perhaps I should get my eyes charmed like Niko’s, I thought to myself as I fumbled for the candle by the entrance. Placing the bundle of pulverized flowers from Viktor on the little table there for a moment as I did. It would certainly make living in a goblin castle half the year much easier. As the wick caught with a soft hiss, I heard the telltale creak of my bed in the other room.

Quickly I had to douse my nerves, straightening myself out with the reminder once more that these were my rooms. I was supposed to be here. Erramun was not. I felt another twitch of satisfaction at the corner of my mouth again, unable to resist feeling a little smug in that confidence. Even if he wanted to leave, he wouldn’t get anywhere without my help. It was a reassuring feeling to have the half-orc under my thumb. Though the reminder of my guest set my heart skipping again. Which I of course briskly ignored.

I used the light of the candle to find a vase amid my things, feeling each clutter and clank of my shuffling was louder than a thundering herd of cattle. Rather hoping the half-orc wasn’t sleeping. I had to move two small boxes and a stack of books out of my way. But I eventually found what I was looking for, and placed the small colorful vase on one end table. Gathering the messy bouquet up carefully from where I had left it by the door to set it into its new home. I ran my fingers over the pretty blooms, smiling to myself. I’d have to get them some water. But I should check on Erramun first.

However, it was suspicious how quiet everything was. I paused for a minute by the door to the bedroom, listening to see if I could hear anything beyond. I had assumed such a behemoth would be a snorer, though I guess that was rather small minded of me to think so. It was also, I realized, possibly silly of me to assume he would even be asleep. I had been gone for hours, perhaps he had woken, if he had slept at all. I pushed aside the fearful thoughts of what he had been doing this entire time if he had not been sleeping.

I hesitated with my hand over the handle. If he was asleep, would my entering wake him? And if he wasn’t… My face felt hot with the sudden reminder of a pair of dimples at the base of his spine. Not to mention the rest of that scene permanently burned into the backs of my eyelids. I glanced around the foyer once more, still trying to decide. Working to calm my suddenly racing pulse. Then chided myself with the reminder yet again that these were my rooms. If he was naked again, well then, I’d just have to scold him better this time. And… maybe I could get a better look. I scoffed silently, pushing away that thought as wholly undesirable and the heavy blush that accompanied it. Giving the handle a solid downward yank and shoving the old bedroom door open with my shoulder.

I had barely started to draw in a breath for a proper greeting when I released it suddenly in a loud shout instead, my body jerking forward with a sudden intruding force acting upon it. My hands went up defensively, the candle abandoned to gravity, as I reached for the sudden weight dropping on my shoulder.

Muscle memory took over then, and it was a blur as my hands found purchase. I shifted my weight, dropping my shoulder down and bending at the knees to use the larger form’s already moving momentum to my advantage as it went to grab me and send its weight forward. Then, a quick twist and a sweep of my foot had it flipping the rest of the way with a abrupt and heavy THUD that even managed to shake the room a little.

I blinked rapidly in the dark left behind by the now doused candle that had clattered to the floor, trying to make out whatever I had just laid low on the ground. My heart racing in my chest, my blood pounding in my ears. A muffled groan broke through the adrenaline, and I nearly scoffed in exasperation. Remembering that there weren’t actually a lot of possibilities.

“Erramun!” I snapped at the large half-orc currently splayed out on my bedroom floor at my feet. “What in the nine HELLS do you think you are doing??”

“Gana!” He said in surprise, tugging at his hand still in my grip. “It’s you!”

“Of course it’s me!! Who else would it be??”

“I thought you were someone else!”

“In my personal rooms, you big idiot??” I retorted, then looked down, realizing I had twisted his arm back with his elbow facing out and his shoulder turned in the way Niko had shown me. Leaving the half-orc completely at my mercy. I was sorely tempted to twist it a little further in my ire. “Who do you think would be just randomly coming in here other than me??”

The dark shadow at my feet gave a growl, and I gave a startled yelp as suddenly I found my own feet swept out from under me. I landed heavily on my back with a gasp, too surprised to react properly. A meaty hand on one shoulder, and the rest of a big orc pining me down with his body crouched over mine.

“I dunno. Could’ve been anyone.” He grumbled, and I saw the glint of his eyes in the dark. “This place is very odd.”

His dark hair spilled like water around us, and I had to take a few moments to calm my swirling thoughts as the smell of him filled my nose. Not to mention the heat of his body, with his big thigh on my left and the other between my own legs. One hand was firmly planted on my shoulder, half-pining me to the floor, the other held one of my hands flattened to the ground by the wrist. I wriggled for half a second beneath him, then stopped dead as I heard him snort.

“Not many can get the jump on an orc.” He noted, sounding heavily amused. I thought I could see the flash of his teeth. “But nobody can best them in actual combat even if they do.”

My temper flared at that, and I twisted sharply. Reaching up with my free hand to catch the back of his neck and burying one knee straight up. Catching his inner thigh and with a sharp upward jerk at the same time as I yanked hard with my hand. Toppling him off balance just enough to use my own weight to flip the tides once more. Using his greater weight and size to roll myself with him.

Another breath later, and Erramun was back on his back, and I glared down at him with a small but satisfied scowl etched into my brow.

“Must not apply to half orcs.” I replied smugly.

I couldn’t see him well at first in the low light of the moon filtering in from the balcony window, but at least now my eyes were finally adjusting properly. I could make out the edge of his jaw, the breadth of his shoulders in the cream colored tunic. The side of his face closer to the window was also mostly visible. His black hair caught the moonlight with dazzling strands of silver, and I was pretty sure I saw his pronounced brow raise up. Thought I saw even a bit of the white in his eyes as he widened them. I could distinctly see them blink very slowly after that, and saw his wide nose flair. In fact, I could feel his entire chest rise and fall as he drew in a deep breath.

It was then my brain decided it fit to recall that I was currently sitting directly on top of the half-orc. My knees barely reached the ground on either side of him, my skirts bunched up at my thighs, and my hand was still cupped around the back of his neck. I had managed to free my other hand from his grip, and had his wrist now pinned above his head. Which brought me leaning perilously close. My own wild hair cascaded down like a net around my shoulders, and I realized my face was not all that far from his.

It seemed he had realized this same fact a that exact moment as well. We stared at each other for a long, quiet breath. Frozen in place. I found myself wondering distractedly how well Erramun could see in the dark. Was I just a shape bathed in a silver outline as he was? Or could he see the way I hovered over him, with the collar of my dress dangling a few inches from his shirt, baring the top of my chest to him? Could he see the expression on my face? And if he could, was he any better at reading it than I was at the moment? Could he see the flush of my cheeks, and hear the race of my pulse at his proximity?

I abruptly and quickly pushed away from him. Shoving him so hard in my retreat that he gave another soft grunt as I stood. My face was burning hot, despite my better judgement, and my head swirled as I tried to compose myself once more.

“You’re an idiot.” I grumbled defensively, smoothing my hands down my skirts as I took a few steps away.

“You’re impressive.” He returned, his voice a bit breathy. I saw him sit up, propping his knees and leaning on his elbows over them. “You fight better than some orcs I’ve met.”

“I thought no one could best an orc.” I chided him, carefully making my way over to the bedside table to find a fresh candle. “What are you even doing out of bed? I thought you were supposed to be resting.”

It took only a short minute of fumbling to light the candle, and when I turned to face him once more, he was still sitting on the ground. Looking up at me with emerald green eyes and his long locks spilling over his shoulders. He grinned a little sheepishly, and I had to force my heart to beat again in its wake.

“Some people can best an orc.” He said, as if deciding on it in that moment, then chewed at his thick lip thoughtfully. “Some people can beat some orcs.” He amended, and those lips split back into a wry, crooked grin. “And I got tired of resting. I’ve been resting for hours.”

“So you decided to tackle someone instead?”

His grin grew by a few molars, and I eyed him warily. “It was fun. At least for a moment.” He winced, and his hand went to his injured side. “I think I may have torn it open again.”

“Serves you right.” I grumbled, walking around to light a few more candles around the room. “Perhaps you should just stay on the floor all night then. Seeing as you seem to like being there. At least I’d get my bed back.”

He chuckled, and I heard him give a soft huff as he pulled himself back to his feet. When I shot him a glance over my shoulder, he was using the bedpost to steady himself. I watched him blink a few times, then shake his head stubbornly. I scoffed with a click of my tongue, putting down the candle in my hand and bustling over to him.

“Let me see.” I ordered him, reaching for the edge of his shirt.

He grunted, but didn’t argue, pulling up the hem over his navel. Exposing the wrappings to my critical eye. There was a spotting bloom of pink at the center, and I ran my fingers lightly around the edge thoughtfully.

“Well, the good news is I don’t think you made it worse.” I commended him, unable to resist the urge to skim my fingers over his skin a little. Checking to see if it was hot with infection, I assured myself. “The bad news is you’re still an idiot.”

He laughed again, and I felt it in my fingers currently pressed against his flesh. I straightened slightly, reluctantly removing my hand and trying to ignore the fresh flush that rose to my own face. Perhaps I was the one coming down with an infection instead, I reasoned distractedly.

I almost jumped as his hand came around, catching mine as it retreated. My eyes jumped to his face, and he tilted his head to the side slightly as he peered down at me. Those thick lips of his twisted into a fresh smirk, one side higher than the other. I resisted the urge to quiver at the sight.

“Lucky then that I have you, Gana.” He mused. “You have brains enough for the both of us.”

“And brawn.” I quipped, which only had his grin growing. I shuffled in place, glancing down at our hands before carefully pulling mine back. “Still. No more tackling people in the dark, agreed? Damjan won’t be happy if I return his tunic with blood stains all over it.”

Erramun nodded, slowly pulling his borrowed shirt back down. “Who is Damjan?”

I hesitated only a brief moment, turning to walk over to sit at the edge of the bed. “He’s the General of the goblin forces. Retired, supposedly. But that’s his wardrobe you’re wearing.”

That had a small flash of surprise rolling across his features. “He is large for a goblin then. Or is he human?”

I shook my head, then gave him a small grin of my own. “He’s goblin. Half-goblin at least. And half-orc.”

“Orc?” He echoed, and I wasn’t sure if it was nervousness or excitement that laced his voice. His smile had quickly faded.

I nodded, considering him. “Yes. He grew up here though. I don’t know if he’s ever met another orc. Though I suppose he must have at some point.”

Erramun nodded as well, chewing on his lip as he stared at the ground. I could almost see the thoughts swirling behind his eyes. I couldn’t help but notice that he looked a little relieved. I leaned forward on my hands currently propped at the edge of the bed.

“You avoiding all orcs at the moment?” I poked, curious despite myself.

His gaze darted up to me, then he shrugged his big shoulders, coming around to the edge of the bed slowly. “Just most.”

I tried not to stiffen as he sat next to me, the mattress depressing almost to the frame with his added weight. “Any particular reason why?” I asked warily. “You aren’t on the run, are you?”

The soft chuckle in his chest rumbled like distant thunder, and I felt goosebumps skitter across my flesh at the sound. He glanced at me again, then down at the floor.

“I worry they might try to stop me. If they found out.”

I waited for him to go on, to explain that further. When I was answered with nothing but silence, I shifted in my seat. Debating only for a moment whether or not I cared enough to pry further. But the curiosity proved too much, and I even leaned a little closer to him.

“Found out about what?”

He glanced at me again, and I froze as his eyes ran over my face. Especially the way he seemed equally distracted for a moment as his gaze met mine. I wasn’t sure how much time passed before he finally spoke. But found myself releasing a breath I hadn’t known I was holding when he did.

“Let’s just say I’ve got something to prove to my family.” He mumbled, then his eyes finally dropped away and he shifted. “We should leave it at that. I don’t want you to think I’m stupid.”

His voice was strangely soft again. The way it had been when he had first mentioned the plight of his people at the border. With that same look I had seen a hundred times before on my brother’s faces. The weight of a thousand weights, I called it. I didn’t quite like his face in that shape. It made him seem older, more tired. It hurt me a little to see that look on him, when usually his eyes were filled with such vigor and bravado. I leaned a little closer, nudging his shoulder with mine until he looked up at me again.

“... I already think you’re stupid.” I assured him lightly, and my teasing tones had a smile flicking across his lips again. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He nodded, and I saw his eyes shift between mine for a moment. “Thank you, Gana… You have been very kind to me. And I have given you nothing but trouble.” He leaned a little closer, and my breath caught in my throat. “I would like to give you something else. To repay you.”

It took me far too long to respond with his breath splashing across my face. With his eyes locked in mind. Heat swelled in my chest, and my heart fluttered behind it. I swallowed slowly, trapped in those emerald eyes of his.

“... Oh yeah?” I fumbled my lips around the soft words. “What would you give?”

He paused a moment, and I felt the bed shift beneath us as he adjusted his weight. Somehow managing to shift even closer to me.

“What would you like? What can I give you, that would make you happy?”

I laughed shyly, glancing down. Away from those entrancing eyes. “I don’t want for much here.” I assured him, my heart thrumming in my ears.

“Surely there must be something you don’t have. Something you want?” He pressed, his voice still whisper soft.

My hands twitched, and I brought them together to cup in my lap. Thumbing at one as I stared down at them. So aware of his proximity I couldn’t seem to draw in a deep enough breath for fear of pulling it from his lungs.

“Freedom.” I admitted quietly. “... To go where I want. To see the world.”

“I can give you that.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “No one can give me that.”

“But I can take you with me.” He pressed. “I can bring you back to my home. It is wild and untamed. That is a start at least.”

I glanced up at him again, and found him closer than I had left him previously. He was leaning on one hand, twisted at the waist. Almost at my eye level with the gentle bow of his broad shoulders and the relaxed curve of his spine. If I moved too quickly our noses might brush together. I kept my breath trapped in my throat. I saw his eyes move, and my face suddenly blazed hot.

Abruptly, I stood, putting a few steps between us. Squeezing at my palm for a moment and feeling horribly, horribly foolish. It took a breath to steady myself, but I turned back for him.

“... You are not here to promise adventures to silly girls in castle towers.” I reminded him bitterly.

He started for a moment at that, staring at me a little wide eyed. The candlelight danced in those eyes, and I had to look away. I made the pretense of picking up the broken candle from the floor where I had dropped it earlier. I ran my thumb over the smooth wax, trying to calm my racing heart.

“No, I’m not.” He admitted, and my efforts were demolished by the skip of my heart at the regret in his tone. “... But if you help me win the Princess, then I can still give you want you want.”

I almost laughed, shaking my head and feeling the sinking weight of his words deep in my chest. Reminding myself why this man was even here in the first place, and chiding myself silently for forgetting. Trying to swallow the sudden disappointment in my throat.

“I can’t help you do that.”

“You’re the only one who can.” He pleaded. “I don’t know this world. I don’t know these people, but I need to. I need to be better, to be bigger than I am. It’s the only way to help my own people. I see that now. My plan was foolish, and I cannot do it alone.”

I was already shaking my head before he had finished speaking. “I cannot help you win the Princess.” I told him firmly, stubbornness lacing my breath. Still refusing to look up at him.

“Fine. Not the Princess.” He agreed, and I heard the creak of the bedframe as he stood. “Then help me learn to be someone worthy of her. Of this court. Teach me how to impress the Kings. How to talk without saying anything. How to dress, how to speak. How to be… human. And goblin, if needed.”

I did laugh now, and turned to toss the candle to a pile of rubbish to be taken out later. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“So teach me.” He insisted, and his voice was closer. Somewhere only a few steps behind me. “Teach me to be better than I am, to be human enough to be at this court, to pass for one of the goblins, and I will take you far away from this place when I leave. I’ll even tell you stories of all the places I’ve been and the things I’ve seen in the meantime.”

I jumped as his hand grazed my elbow, and spun to face him once more. He peered down at me quietly for a long moment. Then his lopsided smile returned, and I felt my heart skip.

“I can’t give you your freedom, Gana.” His eyes sparkled with determination. “But I can give you the chance to take it.”

Excitement surged in my chest, and I felt the heat of my blood rushing through my veins. I felt the familiar itch; to run. To just go, to leave this place and never look back. To be out there, in the world where I so longed to be. I couldn’t quell the intensity of my desire, and felt it seep throughout my entire core. I saw his grin grow, and wondered if he could see it in my eyes. I chewed it over, trying to keep a level head. Trying to think it through.

“... No Princess? Just-”

“Just teaching.” He assured me. “Even if it doesn’t work, and the goblin Princess doesn’t like me and I go home, I’ll still take you with me.” His head cocked to the side. “If you want to go.”

It would never work. I had managed to smuggle him in, but I was only here for a month or two. Could I even smuggle him back to Geriveria? Or could I leave with him at the end, like he promised? Niko would never allow it. He’d send half of the Kingdom after me, and Val wouldn’t be far behind. Even Grier would think this was crazy. I didn’t know this man! I had no idea where he had come from, or what kind of person he was. And how was I supposed to keep him from figuring out who I really was? Once he found out that he couldn’t even use anything I’d taught him, surely he’d be mad. He would not keep his promise. Besides, how was I supposed to keep him hidden from my brother, the goblin King, my nosy nieces and nephews, my ladies-in-waiting, and everyone else in the entire castle? It was insane! It was dangerous! If I was caught, if Niko found out, if anyone saw him, who knows what they would do! And even if I could manage all that, two months was hardly enough time to train some wildling everything it had taken me a lifetime to learn. It was impossible. The odds were far too high, and the chances of success so slim I couldn’t even see them.

I felt a grin sliding across my face at the challenge raised, and felt my heart skip excitedly in my breast.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

To be continued ...

58 notes · View notes

jaskierswolf · 4 years ago

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Hmmm Geraskier Legally Blonde AU. Music major Jaskier follows his long-time muse Chiridean to law school (what, like it’s hard?) but finds him smitten with all-star student Yennefer. Cue Jaskier needing the broody TA, Geralt’s help in not flunking out. Jaskier ends up rocking the high-profile case of Callonetta, even after evil law professor Stregobor attempts to toss him out. (I also needed an excuse to put Jaskier in a playboy bunny outfit. For reasons.)

I am so so sorry this took so long. I almost made it into a longer piece and honestly I may still use the scenes in this to expand into a longer fic on AO3 if I have time but for now... voila! _____________

Jaskier was tearing his hair out. There was no way he would be able to get the grades he needed to get into law school. He was a musician for fuck’s sake. There were so many words and they were all so boring. The paragraphs blended together and blurred making it nearly impossible to focus. He groaned and thumped his head on the table. He could do this. He wanted to do this. He had just hit a wall. He’d been concentrating so hard for weeks, which was, quite frankly, impressive for him. That sort of focus was usually reserved for his composing.

“Come on, Jask. You can do this!”

He couldn’t do this.

“How’s it going, buttercup?” Triss asked as she popped her head around the door.

Jaskier pouted and gazed wistfully out the window at the parties in the street below. “I should be out there, Triss. I could have been up on the stage or snogging some gorgeous person behind the curtain!”

Triss smirked and put her hands on her hips. “Snogging?”

Jaskier winked. “Or fucking,” he added with a shrug. “Anything is better than this shit!” He said gesturing widely to the the stack of books on his desk.

“You could just give up?”

Jaskier gaped at her and huffed. “My muse!” He whined.

“Suit yourself,” Triss shrugged. “Ready to go again?”

Jaskier groaned but nodded as Triss passed him another test whilst setting an alarm on her phone.

“Go!”

He sighed but began to scribble furiously. He could do this!

__________

He’d fucking done it. Jaskier Pankratz was at Law School. His parents had never been so proud. They’d restored his inheritance to their estate and he finally had access to his bank accounts again. No more living on tips and barista wages for him. He grinned. He’d always known that Chireadan would be the best muse! He strutted down the halls dressed in his favourite black skinny jeans and a shocking pink crop top, his guitar slung over his shoulder and an ice coffee in hand.

It was time for the next part of his plan. It was time to get his muse back!

He smiled and waved cheerfully at his fellow law students as he danced through the corridors, sipping his ice salted caramel latte through a straw. Most of them looked at him as if he was from another planet. Their clothes were black, black and black. Did no one in law school know what colour was? Yes he was wearing black jeans, but his top was brightly coloured and more than a little bit sexy. He’d paired the outfit with some designer sunglasses, a gift to himself to celebrate his reunion with his credit card, and a pair high heeled ankle boots that laced up at the front. His fashion sense was just wasted on these clever folk.

He sighed dramatically and glanced up at the doors. He was absolutely not lost. It was just… nothing was very clearly marked. Perhaps that’s why you needed all the extra tests to get into law school, even getting to class was a fucking exam.

“Are you alright?” A deep gruff voice asked. “You look lost.”

Jaskier spun around and peered over the top of his sunglasses. His jaw dropped. The man in front of him was fucking gorgeous. He had the most beautiful silver hair that was pulled into a bun, revealing a sneaky undercut on either side of his head. He was wearing a black turtle neck that was a tad too tight and stretched over hidden muscles, and on his face were a pair of thick black rimmed glasses. It shouldn’t have been so sexy but holy mother of fuck. Even the ratty old tweed jacket looked good on him.

“Lost in your eyes maybe,” Jaskier winked and bit his lips.

“Hmm.”

And then he turned and walked away. Jaskier pouted. The man must be straight. There wasn’t even a blush on his face, either that or Jaskier was losing him game.

Nah. It wasn’t that. He looked fucking hot and he knew it.

Jaskier hurried after him and placed a hand on his arm. “Wait! No. I’m sorry. I am lost, like actually lost and not just in your eyes, although can I just say,” he gestured to the man’s body. “Wow. What colour are your eyes? Yellow, no golden… doesn’t matter. They are gorgeous.”

The man raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m Jaskier by the way. Jaskier Pankratz.” He held his hand out to shake but the man ignored it so he ran his fingers through his hair instead.

“What class?”

“Oh umm, excellent question,” Jaskier stuck out his tongue and he dug through his pockets for his schedule. It was already coffee stained and torn in the corner but who gives a shit. “Professor Stregobor?”

The man let out a weary sigh and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “Fuck.”

Jaskier tilted his head and put his free hand on his hip as he sipped his coffee. “Why ‘fuck’?”

“You’re not going to last two minutes. Follow me.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. What was that supposed to mean? “Oh hang on!”

“Follow me.”

Jaskier’s jaw snapped shut. He hadn’t even made it to class yet and he was starting to regret everything.

_______________

“Come on…” Jaskier drawled as he rest his chin on his hands. The table was sticky and covered in beer but he ignored it. He had a job to do. He jutted out his bottom lip and widened his eyes at Chireadan.

Chireadan like everyone else in this damned party was dressed casually in a rather lovely blue jumper and chinos. Jaskier, who had been invited to the party by one Yennefer Vengerberg, was wearing a black corset, fishnet tights and a ridiculous pair of bunny ears. He should have known better than to trust Yennefer. She was fucking gorgeous and a phenomenal lawyer but she had taken a dislike to him. It was shame. He was pretty certain that under different circumstances they could have been friends. She was just ambitious and did not hesitate to trample on others to get what she wanted. He respected that.

It just had a few unpleasant side effects. Like turning up to a non-costume party dressed as a playboy bunny. At least he looked cute.

“No, no. Out of the question!” Chireadan said in his adorable little accent. It was what had drawn Jaskier to him in the first place. “I’m just not interested anymore.”

Jaskier let out a soft whine and batted his eyelids. “But I need you, you’re my muse!”

“Well you’ll have to find a new one. I’m done being fodder for your terrible songs.”

And like that the spell was broken. Jaskier gasped and sat back in his chair. “I. You. What?!” He shrieked.

“It was just one love song after another, and none of them even made sense? Do you even know how to rhyme? And we’re not even in love.” Chireadan huffed. “I want a girlfriend and I can’t do that with you trailing after me acting like a lovesick puppy. No. Julian. We are done.”

“Oh no. We are not done because you say so. We are done because you are a terrible muse with fucking awful taste in music. I cannot believe I wasted years on you!” Jaskier snapped. “I was just trying to repay you for saving my life but you. you.. ungrateful swine!”

“You’re acting like a child.”

“I’m a musician! I’m allowed to be dramatic!” He yelled and stood up, kicking the chair out from underneath him. “Yennefer Vengerberg will never love you. You’re wasting your time.”

“I know,” Chireadan sighed wistfully. “but I love her.”

Jaskier scoffed and fled the house. His pride was wounded. Not only had Stregobor called him a talentless fool who would never succeed in court, his muse, his precious muse had insulted his songs. He was fucking done with it all. He should never have come here.

His eyes stung and his throat ached as he bit back a sob. “Fuck!”

He shivered just as a heavy coat dropped around his shoulders. He touched the fabric in the dark; tweed. He smiled into his lap; Geralt. He felt Geralt sit next to him silently and he rest his head on Geralt’s shoulder.

“I spoke to Yen,” Geralt said in a low whisper. “I’d like to say she’s sorry for the costume joke.”

Jaskier chuckled. “Of course she’s not.”

“No.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Geralt grunted.

Jaskier sighed dramatically as he looked up at the stars. “What am I doing here, Geralt? I’m a musician, not a lawyer, and apparently I can’t even do that right.”

“What? Who said that?”

“Chireadan,” he whined.

“He knows fuck all,” Geralt growled.

Jaskier sat up and stared at Geralt in disbelief. “Does this mean you like my music, Geralt?” Geralt scowled and refused to meet his gaze. “Oh come on, I’m having a shit night. Humour me?”

“I like your music.”

“What do you like about it, three words or less?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt groaned.

“Please!”

“It’s catchy.” A pause. “And I like your voice.”

Jaskier swallowed as he tried to remind himself how to breathe. He was certain it was the booze and Geralt actually being nice to him for a change but he suddenly had an overwhelming urge to kiss him. He cupped Geralt’s face, turning it gently so he was looking at Jaskier. “Thank you, my dear.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt’s eyes flickered down to Jaskier’s lips. There was no mistaking that and even in the dark Jaskier was pretty sure he could see a blush on Geralt’s cheeks. He was fairly certain that if Geralt didn’t kiss him now, he might die. He licked his lips and tilted his head at his friend. “Geralt?” He asked quietly.

Geralt hummed, the ever present scowl on his forehead deepening. “Yeah?”

“Kiss me?”

And he did. Then he did it again, and again, until Jaskier had forgotten all the sadness in his heart because all that mattered were Geralt’s lips against his. __________ Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67

#the witcher #legally blonde #modern au #geraskier #wolfie's witcher writing #Anonymous

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pleasantanathema · 5 years ago

Text

After Hours

Fandom: BNHA

Rating: Explicit

Characters: Endeavor/Enji Todoroki

Tags: size kink, daddy kink, fem!reader, rough sex, dirty talk, choking, biting, bruising, dominate Endeavor

Word Count: ~7k

The night sky was dark with an approaching storm, lightening shimmering in the distance, still too far away for thunder to be heard. Endeavor’s cold, expansive office was filled with shadows. Red lights from the streets below were cast up into the colossal windows. A fight had broken out just below the agency, and with the heroes gone for the day, the police had arrived, lights flashing from red to blue as they pieced together what happened. Your fingers pressed against the cold glass, watching the scenes in the distance as you pondered your own situations.

Endeavor was on the phone behind you, elbow on his desk as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. You gripped the report tucked into your arms that was waiting for his eyes only. His voice behind you was hushed like smoldering coals, breath husky and tired from a long day. You closed your eyes for a moment, imagining what his voice would sound like against your hair, whispered hotly against your neck.

You’d worked for Endeavor as a hero in his agency for well over a year now, and from the very beginning he made it evident that he valued you a little differently than his other heroes and sidekicks.

You noticed rather early in your career at the Endeavor Agency that the man in charge was very attentive to you. At first, you assumed it was because you were young and inexperienced, and that he was accompanying you on raids and missions in order to be a hand to hold. However, you learned rather quickly that he—the number one hero—was with you because he was impressed. He liked to watch you in action, to feel your power like he was experiencing an exhibition of a quirk that he hand-picked for his agency. Soon, you were his official sidekick, and he wanted you by his side on every mission. He desired to always have you within an arm’s reach, quite literally…because Endeavor loved to touch you.

His touches started out innocently enough. At first, it was a brush of his amazingly large fingers as he passed you, skimming across your upper arm and sending unexpected shivers down your body. Then it was a hand on your shoulder during press conferences, thumb circling over your skin. Soon, it was whenever he pleased: a hand on your lower back as you stood next to him, a tug on your hip when he wanted you closer, or to move you out of his way, a palm against your knee when he sat next to you. He even became tactile with you during missions. He would jerk you out of the way of a villain’s reach, hands lingering longer than they needed to, and he even pulled you behind him by your hand, becoming an actual hand to hold during hero work.

Lightening flashed closer in the sky, thunder finally booming and jolting you from your thoughts. You shook your head, trying to make sense of the feelings that were starting to bloom within your gut. You loved how he touched you, even to the point of reciprocating with a few well-placed hands of your own. You wanted morethan those simple touches, but Enji was a hard man to read. It was questionable as to what his touches meant; they could be innocuous, possessive, lusty, you had no fucking idea.

A gruff sigh sounded behind you as Endeavor ended his phone call, his gravelly words fading into the shadows of the office. You peered over your shoulder, catching the flaming gaze across the room.

“Come here.”

You complied, speaking as you strolled towards his desk, “These came for you earlier today from the Commission. Apparently they have a whole new villain case that they want you to take over.”

His fingers brushed over yours as you handed him the sealed envelope. The exceptionally large man leaned back in his office chair, eyeing you as you took a seat on the corner of his desk.

“Figures,” he scoffed, “I never get to have much fun anymore.”

He flipped through the pages of the document hastily, tossing the packet onto the desk with disdain after a few moments. He stretched his arms behind his head, muscles rolling underneath his simmering hero suit. The flames were low, barely noticeable, and the embers around his lips and chin extinguished. He kept the flames burning around his eyes. And those eyes were focused on you.

Endeavor had been examining you for months, testing to see if you’d run from him, from his touch. Only a few times had you shied away from him, perhaps just surprised that he was touching you at all, or maybe even scared. He was twice your size, he expected you to be a little afraid. But now he had a sense that you wanted him, wanted his touch, and he wanted to give it to you. For months he had been lusting over you, desperate to deepen his touch on your skin, to learn what you felt like underneath your hero costume.

And now he had you alone, after hours.

And his resolve was fading, instincts kicking in to finally claim you. No more lousy touches and stolen glances, he had waited long enough. He knew since the moment he hired you that he wanted you, you were perfect: powerful but obedient, clever but not quarrelsome, strong but small, oh so smallcompared to him. He loved small, delicate things, and you had become his favorite.

The flame hero stood from his chair, body dwarfing your own. You remained on his desk, legs crossed and neck craning to look at him as he leaned over you. His palms were flat on the wooden surface, muscular arms caging you in like prey. Your heart trembled in your chest.

“I think I deserve to have some fun, don’t you?”

He smirked wickedly, eyes of ice flashing with mischief behind their mask of flames.

“Of course.”

You smiled at him, tongue darting across your upper lip like an invitation.

He leaned closer, his flames dangerously close to your skin as he dipped his lips to your neck.

“Have any ideas?”

You closed your eyes, your fantasy of feeling his fiery breath on your skin coming to life. You had so many answers to his question, yet not a single one fell from your lips. What if they weren’t what he was looking for?

“I’m sure whatever you have in mind—” you gasped loudly as his mouth began to pepper your neck with calescent kisses, “—will be enjoyable.” You moaned the last word, head falling back to allow Endeavor more access to your skin.

His hands enveloped your waist, fingers overlapping behind your back.

You had never been more aware of how much larger he was than you. You were like a doll perched on his desk, being held upright only by his will. He was powerful, no, beyond that, he was the most powerful man, and he had you within the palms of his hands. You felt tiny, weak against the deeply corded muscle of the number one hero.

He pressed against your crossed your legs, urging them apart. You obeyed his silent command, spreading your legs and allowing an enormous thigh to press against your core.

“Would you like to hear what I have in mind?”

His breath felt like steam against your neck. One of his big hands snaked up your body, brushing over the curve of your breast.

“Yes,” you whimpered, mind clouding with lust.

“First, I want you out of this goddamn hero suit,” his fingers dug into the material of your costume, his underlying strength threatening to rip the threads, “then, I’m going to taste you, every last inch of you.”

His lips left your neck, heat licking at your cheeks as he came to catch your gaze once more. Your irises flickered across his face, tracing the line of his alluring battle scar. Your vision was nearly engulfed by the orange tinted flames around his eyes as his mouth came to hover over your own.

“Do you like the sound of that, little girl?”

Hot waves tingled across your body at his words.

“Yes…yes, please, Endeavor.”

A growl emitted from his chest at the sound of his hero name. His mouth consumed yours with a scorching kiss, lips moving with a ferocity that made your hands grip his arms just to keep from falling back. You unabashedly moaned against him, his kiss emboldening you to give in to your desires for him. He was unbearably hot, his bright flames dancing outside your closed eyelids like the sun. You parted your lips for him before he even asked. He grinned against your lips, tongue invading your mouth like it already belonged to him. His tongue was hot and heavy, languid against your own as he easily dominated the expanse of your mouth. You tightened your grip on his arms, nails biting into his costume as you attempted to pull him closer.

He indulged you, hands sliding back down your body to wrap firmly around your bottom. You moaned again when he pulled you flush against his thigh. His firm barrel chest now pressed against your own, his whole body engulfing you as he continued his heated assault upon your lips.

You became brave, tongue daring to lap against his lips as you both pulled away for a momentary breath. A small grunt left his throat as you slid your tongue into his mouth when your lips reconnected. He tasted like a foreign spice, like he was exotic but also off-limits. The flavor of him reminded you just who you were kissing. Endeavor was your boss, your superior, the most powerful man in the country, yet there you sat with your ass in his giant hands, tongues tangled as you soaked up the taste of one another.

“Up,” he muttered against your lips, not wanting to let go of your mouth just yet, “strip for me.”

He stepped back, leaving you neglected against the desk. You found yourself wanting to follow his heat, wanting more of him, but you knew better than to disobey a command from Endeavor.

You stepped to the side of the desk, pulling at the sewn-in zipper at the back of your hero costume. He cleared his throat, bringing your attention back to him as you began to peel off your suit. He was doing the same, hands following the same pattern as your own. When you released an arm from it confines, so did he, when you bent down to remove your boots, so did he. He shadowed every movement, flickering eyes never leaving your small frame. You couldn’t help but smirk in delight as he revealed the most beautifully trained muscles from underneath that indigo suit. You took your time, keeping your eyes on him as you began to uncover more of yourself. You took care to remove the bottom of your costume quite slowly, wanting to drink in the sight of his heavenly muscles thighs and calves; his legs were long and deliciously thick, muscles firm and swelling against his skin.

“You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” His deep voice pulled you back to his face. He stood across from you in only his dark colored boxer briefs, eyes still flaming. He was like the titan Prometheus, cunning and clever and tempting you with the gift of fire.

You were now before him in only your underwear, your breasts and nearly entire body exposed for him to observe. But still, you were confident, hands coming to your hips as you evaluated his question.

“Of course I have. Haven’t you?”

The smirk that played upon your lips didn’t go unnoticed.

“Go lay on the rug, let me show you what I think about.”

Inquiries swirled within your brain, but you didn’t question his demand. You walked around his desk, attention now pulled to the plush carpet between your toes. How many times had you stood on this rug? How many times had you absentmindedly admired the pattern, tracing the muted colors with your eyes as your boss tittered at you from behind his desk? His figure cast an imposing shadow in the room as he followed behind you, like a vile of ink spread across the floor, ready to stain your skin as you laid upon it. A flash of lightening painted the room for an instant, light reflecting on your skin as you settled on your back in front of the couches in his office. Thunder rumbled and rain began to fall steadily against the floor to ceiling windows.

Enji wasted no time, immediately covering your petite body with his gigantic physique upon the floor. He kept himself propped on an elbow as he kissed you again, teeth nipping at your lower lip. The weight of his body was heavy between your spread hips. You moaned and arched your back as his other hand glided across your exposed skin. He cupped an enormous hand around your breast, fingers tugging at your hardening nipple. He rolled your soft flesh in his hand, bouncing your breast to feel the weight of it within his palm. He chuckled at how you responded to him, every touch earning him a delighted moan or gasp from your lips.

His fingers were spread so wide upon your chest that they were threading between your ribs. He daringly gripped you a little too tightly, fingers bruising into your skin. You gasped into his mouth, swooning at his underlying power.

“Fuck,” you hissed out against his lips, eyes opening only to see the flare of his flames dip down to your chest, mouth abandoning yours.

“You like that, huh?” He squeezed you again, this time lower on your waist, fingers bruising into your hips. The sinful sound that came from your mouth answered his question. He chuckled, “I knew you would.”

His words had you blushing, cheek turning to rest against the rug. He had been thinking about this, about you, about teasing you, about what you would like. The realization had you burning, and not just from his heat. A deep vein of your own inner heat was opening up within your lower stomach, wetness pooling between your thighs.

Endeavor enveloped your other breast within the warmth of his mouth. Your mouth fell open again as you whined for him, desperate for more. His tongue swirled around the peaked bud of your nipple, his hand returning to mimic the actions of his mouth upon your other breast. Your hips pressed up against his firm body, reacting wantonly to his touch. He groaned against the sensitive skin, gooseflesh trickling down your sides. His lips left your nipple, only to be placed on the top curve of your breast. He sucked at the soft flesh roughly, causing you to jump at the sudden influx of pain and pleasure. He growled, biting at your breast, littering it with dark red and purple bruises. It was like you could feel the blood vessels bursting one by one under his lips, dark colors blooming just for him.

The flames around his brow were dangerously close to the skin of your chest, the sweltering warmth making you feel like you were melting into the white and black design of his expensive rug.

Soon he abandoned your breasts, leaving one glistening with his too hot saliva. He trailed open mouthed kisses down your stomach and to your thighs. He sucked at the juncture of your thigh, leaving another dark bruise in your skin as he slipped your underwear down your legs. You kicked them off impatiently, too caught up in him to worry about where they landed. His arms now rested against the carpet, giant hands wrapping around your thighs, keeping you spread before him.

Hot breath licked between your wet folds and your head fell back listlessly, fingers gripping the fibers of the carpet. You felt his fingers press harder into the skin of your thighs, and you found yourself wanting to call out his name.

“En—”

You stopped short. Endeavor? Enji? Sir? You weren’t entirely sure what to call him, what would please him.

He could sense your trepidation, heated eyes flickering up your body from between your legs.

“What…” you trailed off breathlessly, “which name do you prefer?”

He chuckled darkly, sinfully against your flesh. He took a deep breath, inhaling the intoxicating scent of your wet cunt before him.

“Daddy.”

He punctuated his statement by licking a long, hot stripe up your aching pussy.

“Yes, daddy!” You cried out, hands leaving the rug and instead threading through your hair in a vain effort to keep yourself from falling off the edge of the world and into oblivion.

Enji repeated the motion with his tongue, fulfilling his own fantasy of tasting you. He languidly stroked his tongue along your folds, flames flickering across your thighs. Your legs quivered in his hands, mostly from pleasure, but partially from fear of his hell flames hovering over your most sensitive skin. You knew that he had immaculate control over his quirk, but still the rippling heat had you trembling like a villain at the feel of Endeavor’s flames.

But your fear was nearly forgotten when his tongue began to toy with that familiar bundle of nerves. Your back arched once more, eyes opening at the rush of pleasure that sizzled down your spine. He rolled your clit with his tongue expertly, pace hastening only slightly. He was still taking his time, savoring the way your body reacted to him. A coil began to tighten within your lower stomach, that vein of heat beginning to fissure. Each stroke of his tongue was calculated and deliberate; he paid attention to the sounds you made for him, continuing motions that earned him moans or trembles. Fuck he was talented.

“You taste so good,” he rumbled against your pussy.

“Fuck,” your mind was reeling at his words, “thank you, daddy.”

“You’re always such a good girl…”

He slithered a hand from your one of your thighs, bringing it to skim along the outer lips of your pussy. You could feel your heart beating within your chest, sweat beginning to bead at the nape of your neck from a mixture of pleasure and heat. He spread your pussy with his thick fingers, admiring the view before him. He had imagined what your cunt looked like; he had even fantasized about this very moment, having you spread before him in his office, allowing him to touch you in any way he pleased. He groaned as he prodded a finger at your tight entrance, realizing that your pussy was far more perfect than he ever imagined.

His index finger slipped inside of you, and he marveled over the tightness of your inner muscles. A high-pitched sound came from your throat, stars clouding the edge of your vision at the immense bliss coursing from between your legs.

“How does that feel, baby?” His lips skated against your pussy with every word.

“Amazing…please, please, give me more.”

He chuckled at your pleading, pumping his heavy finger into you. He curled it just right, finding that fleshy spot within you that had delectable jolts signaling down your body.

A second finger soon accompanied the first, the wide digits spreading you delightfully. You felt his other hand clutch your thigh more tightly, settling it upon his broad shoulder. Once again, his pace was calculated, fingers pleasurably systematic within you. You moaned at every twist and plunge. Your gaze was caught within the prisms of the giant chandelier that hung above you. With every shudder of your body, you felt like the light caught within the glass moved with you. You were becoming lost in a sea of ecstasy. You were completely entranced by the colossal man between your legs, your mind so focused on him that it seemed like the stars within your vision had become real. Your senses were heightened to pick up on every move of his body, every hot breath against your core, every lick of his flames against your overly heated skin.

Enji had you teetering on the edge of euphoria.

“Daddy…” you panted out, the taboo of the name further igniting the blaze brewing within your stomach. He heard your cry, mouth returning to your clit. You felt like you were going to melt away at his touch, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable. His thick, long fingers were stroking your velvety walls just perfectly, each plunge feeling deeper and deeper than before. His tongue was swift, lapping dreamily against you, each swipe and swirl making you shiver.

But as soon as you felt like you were about to fall off the orgasmic edge, he slowed down, the raging hot sea ebbing away like the tides returning to the ocean. You were left squirming beneath him. The smirk you felt against your folds told you that he was purposely denying you your pleasure. But he didn’t disappoint for long, managing to slide a third finger into you. His actions had you panting again, body begging for release against his face. Your hips began to buck against his chin. He responded by using his other hand to press one of your hips down into the rug brutally, his grip making you hiss with pain.

It dawned on you that even now, as hewas pleasuring you, licking and stroking your cunt so expertly, he was reminding you of his control. Eating you out was for his pleasure first, yours second. It was an act of power. The realization had you withering in pleasure against the ornamental rug.

His three fingers were nearly idle within you now, his tongue so languid it felt like it was resting against your clit.

“Daddy, Enji, please, please, let me cum.”

Two of his fingers curled within you.

“Tell me, have you thought about cuming on my face before?”

His question had your ears burning in embarrassment, your own fingers knotting in your hair as you debated what to say.

He tempted you with another thrust of his fingers, the resounding pleasure making you whimper.

“Yes.”

Your admission had him chuckling again. In response, he set a rough pace with his fingers, shoving them into you and making you scream out for him. You were climbing up that orgasmic mountain again, even quicker than before. Still, his hold upon your hips kept you from doing anything to be able to reach the top yourself.

“Oh you naughty little girl…” the primal sound of his deep voice was like kindling to your euphoric fire. You just need a little more, just another strong push and you’d be there. It was like he could feel the coil tightening in your stomach again, ready to explode as soon as he pulled the trigger. He smirked, taking the time to look over you. He watched your delicious breasts bounce with every plunge of his fingers, noticed the beads of sweat dripping down your supple skin. He admired how pretty your pussy was and how it so perfectly stretched around his huge fingers.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” your cries came with every thrust. Fuck, you were the perfect picture, everything even more incredible than he had ever imagined it to be. The sound of that name spilling from your lips had his cock aching within its confines, his teeth clenching as he restrained himself from hammering his fingers into your pussy just to watch you break for him.

He finally complied with your wishes, bringing his tongue back to your forgotten clit. The feeling of being so stretched around his fingers, of his sweltering tongue swirling around your clit, of his flames dancing across your skin, it was all too much. But also just enough.

You absolutely shattered around him, thighs quivering and your pussy spasming, your orgasm flooding all of your senses. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you were blissfully trapped within the flames that surrounded his person. He stopped his ministrations, electing to watch you unfold for him. He could see the muscles within your lower stomach contracting, could feel your orgasm upon his fingers, slick coating them in gentle waves. Your chest heaved as you came down from your high. He silently vowed to make you orgasm again, and so desperately he wanted to feel that heavenly explosion around his cock.

You opened your eyes, the tears within them making the chandelier above you look like a mass of twinkling fireworks. Rain splashed against the windows, and now, free from your haze, you could hear the raging storm that was happening outside of your body.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered to yourself.

He heard you and smirked, lifting himself from the floor.

Enji Todoroki stood above you like a colossal god, hand outstretched to help one of his faithful. You took the offering graciously, unsurprised to find your legs a little unsteady as you came to your feet.

He pulled you into his massive body, your chest dwarfed by his own. Everything about him was so divinely built. Just the sight of him had the pool of lust boiling within you again.

“Now come sit on daddy’s lap.”

He sat down before you, magnificent arms slung across the back of the one of the couches in his office. He looked wide and intimidating with his arms and legs spread, flames igniting higher as he laid his eyes back on you.

You steadied yourself by holding on to his massive shoulders as you straddled him. Your slick was sticky on your heated thighs, legs quivering slightly as you dared to stretch across the wide expanse of his lap. His heavy hands encircled your hips, the too warm skin of his chest pressing against your own. Your small hands slid to his neck, fingers tangling in the dark red hair at the nape.

Your eyes met and you were surprised to see the bright flames simmer away, puffs of smoke the only traces of their existence. Vivid blue eyes were soft against the harsh lines of his face. His scar was older now, more pinkish than red, but still a symbol of his heroism, still an outside representation of his inside scars. Curiosity mad you want to run your fingers along the jagged edge, but his hand seized your own in a tight grip as it neared his cheek. He watched your pretty eyes flicker across his face, looking to see if they held fear. Instead, within your expression, he found reverence and warmth. Lust coiled within him hotter than it ever had. He had truly found the perfect little submissive, one who could worship him.

“Tell me what you want.”

Such a simple, authoritative command.

He expected your momentary silence. He leaned forward, lips kissing and nipping at the column of your throat. You moaned, mind still fluttering in a post-orgasmic haze, trying to connect the right words.

“I want…”

Your head lulled back as he sucked at your neck, undoubtedly breaking flesh and leaving more bruises in his wake.

“I want to be yours,” you admitted.

“You’re already mine.”

His words were sharp, punctuated with another rough bite to your skin, this time on your shoulder. He peered down at the bruises he left on your breast, hand returning to the marred flesh. The sweet moan that spilled from your lips had him wishing he could brand his fucking name into your skin—maybe one day he would.

“I want you to fuck me,” one of his fingers was trailing around your nipple, diminutive flames spreading from his fingertip, “fuck, please fuck me, Enji.”

A deep growl erupted from his large chest. He almost liked hearing his given name fall from your mouth more than daddy…almost. Next time he’d let you call him Enji, but tonight was about claiming you, asserting control.

He wrapped a firm hand around your throat. You gasped at the ferocity of his fingers as they pressed in into the already bruising flesh. He tilted your head to catch his gaze again.

“That’s not my name, little girl.”

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

“You better be,” he hissed, “I don’t like a brat.”

You nodded your head the best you could, feeling his strong fingers flex against your neck.

His other hand slipped between your bodies, fist curling around his boxer briefs as he quickly set them aflame to get them out of the way. The look in his eyes told you that he was done being patient; what was coming next wouldn’t be as gentle as how he treated you in the floor, not that you would necessarily call that gentle. You shivered at the blaze that came and went below your body, still somehow astounded by his intricate control of his quirk.

Now that the fabric holding him was burned away, ashes seeping into the cushions of the couch, you could feel his hot, throbbing cock against your belly. He was unbelievably hard, his vast length standing at full attention against the dark, red hair of his stomach. You were sure that no other cock could compare to his in size; you felt your inner muscles clench just at the sight of him. His girth was ample, with prominent veins protruding from the underside. You worried for a moment that you couldn’t take it all, but the dribbling slick between your thighs made you hopeful. No wonder he had been so diligent in making you cum; if you hadn’t, you feared that you wouldn’t have been able to fit all of that wide cock within you.

“Like what you see?” He quipped, making a blush creep across your cheeks as you returned your gaze to his.

“Holy fuck…will you fit?”

He chuckled, using his grip on your neck to bring your lips to his for a quick, searing kiss. He fisted his cock, pumping it as he groaned into your mouth. He released your lips, angling his head so he could see where to position your hips over his length.

“I promise, baby, I’ll fit.”

Enji kept a consistent pressure on your hip with his strong hand, guiding you. The thick head of his cock began to press against your tight slit, prodding your lips apart as the swollen flesh slipped into your heat. You gasped, attempting to look down as he continued to gradually spear you onto his cock, but the thumb nestled at the juncture of your jaw and neck flexed upwards, keeping your eyes on his face. His eyes were soft, lips pressed together as he kept his composure. He was battling to keep himself from slamming into you; your velvet walls were like the rapture taking him up into heaven. But you were so small, so fragile in comparison to his body, and it was best not to break you.

Your body was half way down his cock when you felt like you couldn’t take anymore. You were so full, your entire heat crowded by his own, your thighs quivering against his hold. You attempted to push your hips down, to suck his cock into you in one swift motion to get the discomfort over with, but his grip wouldn’t allow it. He kept you steady, your eyes locked onto his as he eased you down onto him.

But soon Endeavor wavered. He looked down between your bodies, watching his impressive cock spread you apart. A primal sound left his throat as the hand on your hip slid to your stomach, deft fingers tracing the visible outline of his cock. The sight had his eyes closing and his head dipping back at the overwhelming pleasure. He grumbled profanities, his thumb petting your throat tenderly when you whimpered. He couldn’t take any more waiting.

“Fuck…” your name was heavy against his tongue.

Aggressively, he lifted his hips and plunged the remaining length of him into you. You cried out, a tear falling down to the apple of your cheek as you stretched around such a thick, powerful cock. He shushed you, hand on your stomach moving to your lower back, encouraging you to rock within his lap. You followed his lead, swallowing against the anchor of his fist around your throat. You mewled softly, eyes closing, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth.

Pain soon dissipated into scorching pleasure, your mouth falling open at that indescribable feeling of being so fucking full. The head of his cock was fat and firm, and now nestled against your cervix. Every soft roll of your hips had the ridge of his cock sliding just a few inches inside of you, making you feel more stuffed every time you came back down to rest against his thighs. With every subtle movement you felt the entirety of his monstrous cock; the veins were hot and throbbing, skin heated and silken within you.

Rhythmic moans began to pour from your lips, the vibrations tingling against his massive hand around your neck. Your beautiful sounds were all the invitation that Enji needed to begin properly fucking you. He used the leverage of his hands on your body to move you up and down his length, pace quickening with every new thrust.

“Oh daddy,” you moaned lewdly, unable to control yourself as hot waves of bliss washed over your body. His fingertips dug into your hip forcibly, using you like a pretty little cocksleeve.

“You like this, little girl? Like being stuffed full with daddy’s cock?”

“Fuck, yes!” You cried out, body now bouncing vigorously against his own.

Your eyes fluttered open at all the sudden movements, head lulling up to catch the glorious sight of Enji Todoroki with his head still against the couch. His neck was the thickest you had ever seen, droplets of sweat swimming down the intense sinews of skin. His broad shoulders were rolling like a predator’s, the muscles in the arm bound to your neck were straining beautifully against his skin. Your fingers slipped from his shoulders to his chest, feeling the power of his hard pectoral muscles. He continued to pound into your pussy and you found your fingernails dragging against his thick skin. He growled in response to the sharp pain, picking his head up to look at you.

“I’m going to mark you up for everyone to see.”

His voice was cruel. He applied more pressure to your throat, making your head swim at the lack of oxygen. You gasped, feeling more slick gush from inside of you and onto his cock at the stinging sensation.

He began thrusting his hips up into you, the rhythm of your bodies intensifying more than you ever thought was possible. He was so powerful, so dominant with your body, all you could do was try to breath against the hand choking you as his massive hips slapped into you.

His mouth returned to your skin as he pulled you forwards, crushing you into his chest, thumb dangerously close to the center of your throat now. He suckled at your shoulder, biting and teasing your flesh with his tongue. He littered your skin with his marks, the purple and blue blooms matching the prominent bruises he left on your breasts earlier. Little high-pitched sounds were all you could make as he fucked you so mercilessly. Your nails dug deeper into his skin, drawing rivulets of blood to the surface. The crimson liquid blended into the downy red hairs of his chest.

“Daddy…” you attempted to apologize, but the lack of oxygen flow had your mind going numb. You gasped almost painfully against his chokehold. Immediately, he released you, hands smoothing down your sides and pulling you back so he could watch you breathe. His pace slowed, but his hips still continuously bucked into you. You took several deep breaths, fingers splaying against his broad chest.

“Look at you,” he groaned, hand returning to your neck to skim across the dark bruises forming below the surface in perfect alignment with his hand print, “now everyone will know who you belong to.”

His words lit a fire in your core. Even with his cock filling you to the brim, you wanted to feel more of him, you wanted everything that the most powerful man could give you.

With your neck released, you found more agency in your movements. You began to bounce on his cock, matching his thrusts. He groaned as your hands moved to his upper arms, fingers leaving small prints on his skin from the drying blood you had pulled from his chest. Though the smudges were not enduring, they were your still your own imprints upon him.

“You’re mine, baby, mine. You’ve been mine.” He growled.

A sense of possessiveness washed over you as he began to grunt in pattern with his thrusts. You squeezed your thighs against his, your cunt thumping with euphoria with every plunge of his cock. You pressed a hot kiss against his lips, catching his sounds with your mouth and echoing them back with your own moans of pleasure.

“I’m yours,” you resounded against his lips, “fuck yes I’m yours, yours, yours.”

Because being his implied that Enji was now yours.

Each word was punctuated with a heavy thrust of his cock into your pussy, continually stretching you far beyond your limits. Your palms skimmed up his massive arms, shoulders, and neck, resting against the handsome curve of his cheeks.

You could feel the marred skin of his scar underneath your palm, reminding of who you were fucking. Your intimate maneuver had him panting against your lips. He began to slam his cock into you harder than ever before, making you whine incessantly against him.

You were climbing the orgasmic ladder again, aided by the sublime feel of his crushing hands upon your waist, his vast chest against your own, rough lips pulling you into him, and his thick, repetitive cock drumming into you. The stars began to align behind your eyes as you kissed him more fervently, your small hands keeping him against your mouth.

“Cum in me, daddy,” you pleaded between kisses, “please, I need to feel you cum in me.”

The unholy sound that came from within his chest would’ve scared you, had you not been riding his enormous cock. He fisted a hand in your hair, tugging at the strands but not pulling you away from his ardent kiss. His other hand returned to your stomach, pressing into your bulging skin to better feel where his cock was pumping into you.

“Keep begging, little girl,” he directed.

“God, I need your cum, fucking cum in me so I can cum all over your big cock.”

Your mind was on sensory overload, your body uncontrollably bucking against him, begging for another release. You could feel your walls clenching around his delicious cock. The way the wide head was brushing against your walls, repeatedly stroking all the right spots, had your toes curling against the sofa in pure delight. His big fingers were sinking between your bruised ribs again, thrillingly squeezing you with every shove of his cock into your body. God you were so close, so fucking close, all you needed was for him to allow you to go over the edge.

“Say my name,” he commanded against your mouth, “my real name.”

The sound of his voice had you at the apex of your pleasure.

“Enji! Enji, Enji, Enji!”

At the first roll of his name from your tongue, you came undone, body spasming into euphoria as your eyes fluttered upwards. You stilled on his cock as you came, the waves hitting harder than before as your snug walls struggled to clench around the mass of his girth. Your high felt never-ending and immeasurably hot, like you were in the arms of a divine being that was unceasingly blessing you with the gift of his holy cock. The sensations were absolutely blinding, and the moment you thought you were returning from your haze, you were nearly sent over the edge again.

Your orgasm milked his cock within your silken heat so tightly that Enji couldn’t hold back any longer. Flames rippled across his skin as came, thick ropes of hot cum filling you. Being spread so securely across his cock, you could feel every spurt of nearly boiling hot cum that painted your walls. You screamed out against his mouth at the feeling, head falling back and his arms wrapped around your back to keep you from falling.

He watched in amazement as you came again from the feeling of his cum within you. Your chest heaved with shallow breaths, your nails digging crescent moons into the skin of his neck where they had fallen. You couldn’t believe the second high that washed over you; you felt like melting into his lap, or back into the floor, the pleasure almost like scorching pain as it was so sharp. You could feel every bead of sweat against your skin, every dull thump of his cock within your core. You felt like you had actually experienced a little death within his arms.

When you finally came down from the supreme high, you fell against his chest, head tucked underneath his chin. You stayed stretched around his colossal cock, warming it as he traced patterns across your naked back with his hands. Eventually you sat back against his thighs, your own fingers finally trailing across the scar along his face.

“I should take you home,” he mused, blue eyes dancing across the colored marks upon your skin.

“I’m going to need a long soak,” you hummed, feeling the burn in your thighs spreading across the entirety of your body.

The storm outside the building was still raging on, the world continuing while you felt like yours had stopped momentarily.

You finally pulled yourself from his cock, feeling terribly empty but wholly satisfied as you stood. Heavy streams of cum flowed down your thighs. You strolled to his desk, grabbing handfuls of tissues to clean yourself as he began to get dressed, pulling a t-shirt and dark jeans from a closet in the back of his office.

“Do you have your civilian clothes?” He asked.

“Yea, in a bag under my desk. Why?”

“Good, get dressed in those. And bring whatever extras you have and your hero costume, I’m taking you to my home tonight.”

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#enji todoroki #enji todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha todoroki #todoroki #mha endeavor #bnha endeavor #endeavor #endeavor x reader #endeavor x you #enji #bnha imagines

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bookwyrminspiration · 3 years ago

Text

Shattered Upside Down

A kotlc wings au

summary: When the world begins to crawl with unnaturally made monsters, the Keeper crew continue to fight like they always have. But a wrench is thrown in those plans when they themselves become less than human.

Chapter 1: The Descent

Word count: 7k

warnings: mild fantasy violence (nothing more than in canon), swearing

taglist: listed at the end beneath the cut, but let me know if you want to be added or removed

!!! Y’all!! It’s finally here!!! And you might be thinking, Quil they don’t have wings. To which I say: be patient!! this is a multi-chapter fic! this is just the groundwork <3

ao3 link here

or read beneath the cut

It was comical, really, just how quickly their security had crumbled into unbridled, ravaged chaos. They had relied on the extravagance of the Neverseen, always too brash, too bold, too eager for attention. They were self-sabotaging. They revealed their plans a moment too soon, wanting the world around them to see the cunning, the thought, to know which moments were their last.

And they’d played the part so clever, it hadn’t crossed a single mind that they were gracing more than one stage. That even when they weren’t putting on a show, they remained ingenuine.

The Black Swan had thought them comical storybook villains, all talk and poise. And then they’d slip, underestimating you and letting you swoop in last second, tossing wrenches in their gears and bringing them up short. A hero. Classic and overused, but a hero nonetheless.

It had been ludicrous to entertain the notion they could be capable of anything greater, anything deadlier. That they wanted to be stopped again and again. That they wanted to build the Black Swan’s confidence in themselves, wanted to be broken and bruised and battered and defeated again and again and again.

Because then who could consider them a threat?

Who would look for them, frail and scattered as they were?

They had all been lured into a false sense of security, taking the first deep, fulfilling breaths they’d had in years. And each day it came easier. Every passing second without disturbance relaxed their bodies and eased their minds. It had been months and months, long enough they felt safe. Actually safe. The idea was laughable now, but it had been true. The Neverseen were gone, dead and buried.

But villains work best from the grave.

The Ruewens noticed the shift first, although if you asked either of them they wouldn’t be able to tell you quite what it was. The subtle gleam gracing the teeth of each new animal they took in, each creature becoming more violent and vocal, tails thumping just a touch harder against the ground.

It was only a coincidence that seven times in a row the creatures were “uncharacteristically rough and wild for their species.” It only became worrisome when the docile creatures began to growl at anyone’s approach, even the ones that had already been tamed.

Then it all went to shit.

Absolute

fucking

shit.

You wouldn’t have been able to tell from the outside; it was surrounded by one-way glass. Look through and all you’d see were splotches of amorphous green, running streams, sunlight soft and secure. But the view from inside was a completely different story. From inside you could see the creeping mold and blood caked along the sides of streams, the marks in the trees and the torn roots, ash where the sun had burned too bright, rusted mist raining down.

What a nightmare they’d made of paradise.

Except, somehow, the Lost Cities themselves had ended up on the outside of the glass, content to pretend the creatures roaming the hills were only a problem if they were near you, which they weren’t. So what a pack of rabid unidentifiable beasts attacked? They hadn’t been here, so it wasn’t a problem.

Then it became a problem.

The creatures moved closer, working their way through the land, ravaging their way towards the Lost Cities. The elves blinked and they were surrounded. Crystal castles tumbled into sand, stone pavement was ripped from the ground, trees torn and shredded, dripping with infection.

They’d had no choice but to leave it all behind. There’d been backlash of course, despite it being in everyone’s best interest. Those who were so attached to what they had, what had remained a constant in the past millennia of their lives that they were fully willing to risk themselves for it. There was no doubt though, that had they been allowed to remain they would’ve regretted it the moment those creatures came to their door, the ones they’d refused to believe were their problem.

So they’d all moved below ground, deep enough they couldn’t be reached. Every inch of surface available to them was dangerous, so they’d gone beneath it. The dwarves had graciously worked to hollow out living space for them all, creating entire kingdoms beneath the sand. And now they were much more powerful, carried more weight with each step, the responsibility they’d risen to clinging to them and eating them respect no one could deny.

They’d all be dead without them.

Not everyone was in one place, a few spots underground scattered throughout the world and it nearly impossible to travel between them. Light leaping didn’t work underground, and it was an incredible risk to brave the surface for a single leap. Once everyone had been settled, they’d stayed there. And they were still there.

I mean, what else could they do?

It had taken them a bit to work out just where these volatile creatures had come from, the ones now spanning the entirety of the world--although the humans were still unaware. Something about the pollution and overall vibe of the forbidden cities kept the monsters away from them.

A few had suggested moving to the forbidden cities as an alternative to living underground, but the disgust for the places quickly killed that idea.

The Black Swan was adamant that somehow the Neverseen had to be behind this. The organization had been the only enemy they’d ever had--and they were right, in a way. Despite months of silence, of nothing, of security, they must’ve done something.

But how, was the question.

Perhaps it would’ve been better had the question never been answered, if they’d all remained ignorant of what had been hidden right beneath them. Certainly, there would’ve been more resistance had every single elf shoved underground been kept in the dark.

But alas, illumination came tied with a silver ribbon.

One of the smaller creatures, really not much larger than a candle, had slipped into the residences, stirring up a ruckus in its frantic attempts to escape as it realized it was trapped below ground. It had been caught in a corner, hunched over away from the lights. The entirety of its body had been shaded by the large mushroom cap covering its head. It was only on closer inspection they realized the red, dripping mushroom was attached to its head. The rest of its body was disproportionately small and warped, grooves scorn into the skin.

They had been taking it back towards a small air vent--so they could release it onto the surface--when they’d seen the small clasp. It was imperceptibly small, silver in color, piercing the underside of the mushroom cap. It was a tag. An identification tag complete with a pin number.

If that hadn’t been enough proof that the creatures had been intentional, the symbolic eye entwined with a sturdy chain would’ve been enough. Their hearts stopped dead. That eye was unmistakably the Neverseen’s symbol, but that chain…

It was clearly another symbol, the two mixed. But--

Fuck. The creature in their hands had grown panicked and impatient, the space they’d thought was its body leering open to reveal rows upon rows of stubby teeth, all sharp edges and imperfections. They’d nearly dropped the creature in their panic to shove it into the air vent, closing it quickly behind as the sharp, tiny stomps faded as it climbed further and further away.

That creature had been created intentionally and the Neverseen had been a part of it, that much was certain. But there was someone else. Another force out there with enough influence and power to corrupt the entirety of nature’s balance, able to rewrite the story of evolution, and they were represented by a chain.

But who was it?

No matter how shallow her breaths, the overwhelming stench of musk and mold continued to coat her tongue and turn her stomach sour. Sophie exhaled slowly; it would do no good to dwell on what she couldn’t change. The rest of them weren’t faring much better, but the thin cloths over their faces provided a sliver of relief.

Sophie, Fitz, Keefe, Biana, Dex, Tam, Linh, Marella, Maruca, and Wylie. More people than they’d usually risk bringing on a mission, but it was a necessary risk for one of this magnitude.

She assumed the thick scent was coming from the swaths of unidentified plant life gorging it way up the sides of the tunnel, clinging to wet, crumbling rock and glowing faintly blue in the light. At the very least it provided slight illumination of the tunnel ahead, along with the branching pathways they occasionally crossed that likely led to collapsed rooms and dead ends. Mere months ago she would’ve been anxious over the thought that the ground above her would give way and crush them all in moments. Now, however, months living underground had made the ground above her a comfort more than anything. If there was enough soil between her and the surface, the creatures that roamed freely couldn’t get to her.

Although that didn’t exactly apply when they were heading straight into the breeding facility; the heart of the creatures, their origin, where they still poured out in lucrative amounts, a constant supply keeping the surface a hazard.

We’re only about a half-mile away, Dex informed them. He spoke into their shared mental space, kept in place by Sophie and Fitz’s combined efforts, eliminating the need for out-loud conversation. Some of the creatures--especially the ones that liked the dark--had particularly keen hearing, and the closer they got, the riskier any noise would be.

Her head snapped to the side as Biana skidded for a moment on a patch of gravel, sucking in a sharp, silent breath as she caught herself. They all winced, pausing to listen if the sound had caught the attention of anything nearby.

Biana didn’t bother to apologize, they all knew it was inevitable and unavoidable--and it couldn’t be undone.

Remember the plan? It was Fitz’s voice echoing through their heads this time, although it felt like he was trying to whisper despite it being mental. They all nodded in response, and Keefe patted his pocket, bulging with the same explosives they all carried.

Sophie cleared her mind, running through the plan--which she’d done so many times by now the exact words were likely permanently etched into her brain. At the end of this system of tunnels--which Dex was navigating them through--was the breeding facility. This breeding facility was where the creatures on the surface were created, and where they were still coming from. Old and new types alike. Sophie had a basic outline of the facility--it had been difficult enough to find the location, buried deep beneath the earth, getting specifics was impossible--and the areas they were to hit. Everyone had a stash of explosives, black cubes small enough you could wrap your fingers around them. They’d get in, set up the devices, get out, and detonate them once they were a safe distance away.

It was supposedly simple, but everyone had their own speculations about what could possibly go wrong; the most likely was that they would be caught in the act.

The tunnel began to widen, opening into a large cavern; but, as they looked up, they realized it hadn’t always been. Pillars rose around them towards an arching ceiling, carved designs gracing the stone. It appeared this place had once been a grand room, almost reminding her of Victorian castles, but the floor had collapsed into rubble, green vegetation covering nearly every inch.

Linh rotated her hand as she fluttered her fingers, seemingly almost absentmindedly. The leaves rustled faintly, in response to her call. She said nothing for a moment, and Sophie’d almost forgotten about it when Linh spoke up.

I wonder how these plants are able to flourish so far underground, seemingly on their own. A memory from only a few seconds ago flashed through the mindbubble--Keefe’s nickname that had stuck-- and as Sophie watched it she could feel the body memories of Linh tracing the water through the roots of the plants and into the ground, trying to find a source large enough to sustain this vegetation.

Linh shook her head, nodding to herself and to assure the others she remembered their goal, their mission. The reason they were here.

Adrenaline hummed through Sophie’s veins as she began to survey the walls, the bases of which were a good ten feet above her head. She could sense the rest of the group doing the same, but it was Tam’s searching shadows that found the entrance.

It was nearly buried in a corner, obscured by mounds of rock and swaths of green, but it was there.

Sophie briefly sent out a wave of consciousness into the mindbubble, assessing her team and assuring they were all prepared. They seemed to be, although Linh still seemed to be ruminating on the water in the room, fingers rubbing together rhythmically.

Releasing a slow breath, she crawled into the hole, small enough she couldn’t have even sat up comfortably. If Dex’s directions were to be trusted, this hole would lead into an old ductwork system in the back of the facility, and from there they could drop down and continue as planned. The ground was jagged against her palms, but at the very least her hands were slightly protected by her gloves--the same black everyone was wearing now. They must’ve donned them before crawling in behind her-including Linh.

It’s dead ahead, she said, having spotted the reflection of the ductwork up ahead. She couldn’t imagine it led to anywhere particularly important in the facility, as the air it would’ve brought in was absolutely foul. Whatever glistening substance coated her hands and soaked her knees was going to linger.

She came to a stop at the edge where the rock gave way to rusted metal, but a moment was all she allowed herself. Bracing, she slowly lowered her hand and weight onto the ductwork, hoping it would remain silent.

A small thud resounded as the metal bent, but that was it. She gave the clear to the group and continued forward, already wishing this part were over. The duct was significantly smaller than the already cramped tunnel, but at least the tunnel had glowing fungus to light the path. This was pitch black and tiny, requiring them to shimmy on their elbows with only the light of their pendants to guide them. She wasn’t good enough at night vision for it to help, and she wasn’t going to waste energy trying. She needed to save everything she had.

The group continued forward with bated breath as they searched for an opening in the pathway, everyone eager to escape this claustrophobic nightmare. It’ll be over soon, she reminded herself, but when Biana echoed back, Soon, she realized she’d spoken into the mindbubble. Her cheeks flushed for a moment, but it was quickly put out of her mind when she saw a change in the lighting up ahead.

There’s something coming up, she transmitted, hushed. Don’t know what though. There was palpable hope in the air; they were all wishing it was the opening they’d been waiting for, but no one wanted to be let down if it turned out it wasn’t.

Sophie attempted to maintain the quickest pace she could without making sound, but in her urge to get to that possible opening, she nearly kicked the side of the duct. The person behind her--likely Marella, she hadn’t looked--sucked in a breath as everyone froze.

After only a moment's pause, she began forward again, now at a much more reasonable pace as the shift ahead was confirmed to be a vent.

She came to a stop before the slits of the vent, peering down into the room below, sending out a sweep of her consciousness to see if she could hear any thoughts indicating people nearby. Determining it was clear, she slipped the small multipurpose tool from where it’d been stored in her sleeve and began to undo the screws. It made an awful groan when she tugged off the grate, and she gripped it tight in one hand as she gently slid out face first, catching herself and levitating the rest of the way down.

The ground was surprisingly further than she’d been expecting, a good thirty feet from the vent in the ceiling to the dusty ground. Her landing left footprints in the dust, but if everything went according to plan the place would be crumbling long before that would become a problem.

The rest of the group slowly drifted to the ground, emerging from the vent one-by-one in a way that almost made Sophie want to laugh. The fear curdling her blood was enough to keep it in her throat, though.

There didn’t seem to be anything in this room besides storage, discarded crates stacked surprisingly aligned, towers reaching up towards the ceiling. Brushing her fingers over the top of a nearby crate, she saw it had a label.

Curious, she tried to read it. Unfortunately, it was either written in ancient elven or some sort of cipher she didn’t understand. Still, she not only wanted to know what was inside, she needed to. If this was something that could be used to create more monsters, it needed to be destroyed.

As she set about opening the case, the others assumed their positions. Dex was already working on something in the corner, hacking the security system so they could monitor the cameras and place them on loop. Biana was near the door with Fitz, who appeared to be mentally scanning the nearby area for thoughts.

She grunted as she pushed the lid open, bracing it on her shoulder as she peered inside. Her stomach squirmed uncomfortably, and she very quickly closed the crate before anyone else could peek inside. She didn’t want them to see that.

This room has got to go, she whispered into the mindbubble, and while she could feel their curiosity, they didn’t push the issue. Wylie only nodded, removing one of his explosives from his pocket and wedging it between a few crates near the center of the room.

We’re clear to move ahead, Fitz said, and Dex seconded him, holding up his modified imparter. It appeared to connect directly into the camera feeds, where he could switch between different cameras and assess their surroundings.

As we move I’ll be placing the cameras each group is near on a loop, but try not to linger; it’s not a guarantee. Sophie nodded, and Dex passed his imparter near the door, which clicked unlocked.

The door pushed open, presumably by the now-invisible Biana, and they all filed out into the hall. It seemed to hit them all then, that this was truly happening; this was high stakes. At any moment they could be caught, but if they succeeded the entire place would hopefully fall on top of itself, burying these horrors permanently.

The halls were all the same murky, metal grey, as though trying to imitate the stone it had been carved from. Faint gouges could be seen in the walls, and the lights were flickering balefire, every few feet another ball of flame was placed, providing inconsistent illumination.

Sophie went left with Biana, Linh, Dex, and Maruca; Fitz went right with Keefe, Tam, Marella, and Wylie. They’d done their best to disperse abilities across the groups, but it still left each one lacking key assets. But that was unavoidable.

Biana--with Sophie’s help--ensured that their group remained visibly undetected, and she was grateful they had practiced moving in sync back home, otherwise, everyone would’ve tripped over each other. Systematically they made their way through the facility, not actively trying to hide evidence they’d been there but not going out of their way to make it obvious. The intention was that the plan would be executed and the place would be falling long before anyone would notice anything, so speed was their true ally.

Each explosive placed had the lump of anticipation in her throat rising steadily higher. This was truly happening. She kept reminding herself that in just an hour this would be over. However it ended, it would be over.

Footsteps sounded off to the side, and the group froze, pressing themselves into the corner of the room. Similar to all the others, it was stacked high with crates and racks of vials nearly up to hip height, organized this time by color. Sophie had placed her explosive underneath one of the vials, clearly visible to anyone who walked into the room.

Now they could hear voices as well, murmuring sharply as they came closer and closer to the room. Sophie could hear Biana’s pained gasps in the mindbubble, exerting extra energy to keep all five of them expertly hidden. Her fingers were clamped around Sophie’s own, nails digging into Sophie’s skin as she shook with the exertion.

There was a window in this particular room, so even a moment's slip could reveal them to the figures they watched stop in front of the glass. She memorized their faces, and could feel the others doing the same. A man with curling black hair and light brown skin, talking to someone much shorter than him, who looked to be no more than a child in a frilly gown, hair tangled and red. They were clearly having an argument of some sort, the girl stomping her foot dramatically.

Please don’t come in here. She wasn’t sure which of them had said it, but they’d all been thinking it. Biana would’ve if all her energy wasn’t going into keeping them invisible.

Is something wrong? Their anxiety must’ve been enough to send the message throughout the entirety of the mindbubble, not just their group, and Keefe’s concern echoed throughout their heads. When he got no response the others started chiming in, which at least meant they weren’t in any immediate danger if they had the luxury of checking in on them.

The nails dug further into her skin as the man outside the door sighed, swiping a keycard and unlocking the door, shoving it open with his shoulder as he continued to scold the girl.

“Absolutely you may not--” he began to say, one foot through the door frame, yet he still hadn’t looked, eyes on the girl. The voices in her head went silent, the adrenaline flooding her system drowning her alive until it was only that man and the explosive on the table, ever so visible.

He began to turn, eyes moving inside the room, door fully open as he stepped in.

The girl screamed. She screamed in frustration and stomped her feet and darted down the hallway, barely avoiding tripping on her elaborate gown.

The man’s attention whipped after her and he snarled something incoherent, stalking briskly after her, the door thudding shut behind him.

He left behind a thick silence, and it took a full thirty seconds before Biana’s grip on her loosened, a faint panting coming from the empty space near her as Biana swayed slightly, leaning heavily on whoever was next to her.

They lingered only a few more seconds, just barely enough for Biana to regain her composure. It was imperative they move on as quickly as possible; they had no clue when that man would be back, but it was certain he would return before they'd blown the building.

As they left she took a brief moment to hide the explosive, somewhere that wouldn’t be so easily visible for when that man returned. It would buy them time, hopefully.

Work quickly, Sophie transmitted, sending the message echoing towards the others. That had been much too close, and her urgency must’ve been obvious because she could feel the others perking up.

She could see her group’s minds lingering on that little girl, the one who’d thrown a tantrum and saved their lives. They’d known, theoretically, that there were people in this building, not just supplies and serums and whatever else created monsters, but they’d reasoned their way through the guilt. Anyone in the building was actively harming the planet and helping produce those creatures in some way; they were all complicit, so the world would be better if it were rid of them. That was something they could deal with if it saved their families, their friends stuck underground as the world above was ravaged.

That little girl was just that: a little girl. She couldn’t have been older than five; she played no part in these deadly games, yet she’d pay the same price.

Sophie hauled them through the hallways, ducking into a particularly shadowed corner away from the balefire light, the rest of her team slightly dazed. Someone's memory of that feisty girl lingered in the mindbubble, a silent question, hesitance. She could feel the other group somewhere else in the facility stop dead at the sight of her, dread tightening their stomachs as their minds cycled through the possibilities. How many just like her were hidden somewhere within these walls, unaware of the horror and grief surrounding them, coating the floors and washing through the halls; how many?

There’s nothing we can do about that right now, she transmitted to everyone, desperately trying to return them to their senses. They couldn’t do anything with everyone in such a state, clouded minds and stumbling limbs, and her panic alongside her upbringing fraught with human horror gave her enough lucidity to be the leading voice of reason. Perhaps they’d abandon the mission--although that was a last resort. They’d already gone to so much trouble--but they couldn’t do anything just standing about, practically begging to be caught.

Their minds sharpened, and someone gave her arm a reassuring squeeze, telling her they were there and they were okay. She exhaled quietly, glancing around anxiously to double-check they’d remained undetected.

Sophie was almost certain she could feel the heavy, fluttering pulses of her friends reverberating through the air as they continued on, jumping at each faint sound. Their near disaster had sombered the group, and they all appeared infinitely more aware of their surroundings, expecting someone to appear any moment.

They weren’t communicating exactly, but when they’d gotten down to their last two explosives she mindlessly reached out into the mindbubble, searching for Fitz and the others. She could feel rather than hear his response, although he seemed to be just as distracted. The others in her own group placed the last two as she scanned the surrounding space for thoughts; they made their way through the halls, peering through windows into the rooms--which were surprisingly abandoned. Apparently, the storage units were not a priority when it came to security.

Or they were guarded by something much more sinister than mere guards. The gouge marks in the walls seemed to leer at her, more ominous than they’d been a moment before.

It turned her stomach, thinking about just how expansive the facility was. It appeared infinite, spanning several stories above and a few below them, each floor impossibly tall and wide. They’d made their way down about two flights, targeting the structural supports of the building so everything would be crushed in the downfall. She intentionally kept herself from thinking about that little girl.

There’s the rendezvous room, Dex said, and Sophie shook herself internally, pulling the group forward. When they’d first come up with the plan, they’d intended to retrace their steps and exit the way they’d come, but it was deemed too high of a risk to sneak back up through the floors of the facility, and they had instead designated the room ahead as a meeting spot. It, too, had large enough vents to crawl through, which eventually made their way to an opening that should allow enough sunlight down for them to leap away with; although, if that didn’t work, they could always work their way through the vents until they’d completely retraced their steps.

Like electricity jolting through water, Fitz reached out to her, giving her a direct line to him to allow her to track his location more easily. The tether between them led to just around the corner up ahead. They were coming from opposite sides, and if you knew exactly what you were looking for you could see a large shadow creeping unnaturally against the wall, so crisp it was practically imperceptible despite her knowing where to look.

Sophie’s group made it to the door first, and Dex’s hands shook slightly as he crouched down to fiddle with the lock. He swiped his imparter across it, but nothing happened. She watched him work through his own eyes, peering through the mindbubble as he let them in. The tension grew as the others caught up to them, Tam’s shadows spreading over them slightly, enough so that Dex could disconnect from the chain, lighting the strain on Biana.

She could see him gnawing slightly at his lip as he tapped on his imparter in quick succession. Someone began breathing deeply and slowly, and she started to scan their surroundings again. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t let them be caught off guard.

Marella shook out her hands, sparks flickering between her fingers, growing with each passing moment that door refused to open. The veins in Wylie’s hands shone for a brief moment as he clenched his fist, the shimmer fading as he relaxed his fingers, glancing around.

There’s a different lock on this door, Dex mumbled, mental voice sounding faintly panicked, as though he were putting effort into sounding in control.

Yeah, no shit, Keefe grumbled, but there was a tension lacing the words that shouldn’t have been there.

Just give me...a...little longer. I think...I’ve got it.

Each pause was accentuated by a small tap as he lost his train of thought, fiddling with the locks. Cold dreaded settled itself in the center of her stomach, reaching dripping tentacles about and curling them around her insides, squeezing tight as the oxygen levels in the room seemed to dip-- and the problem didn’t appear to be the kind she could fix with a few deep breaths.

There was virtually nothing they could do but wait for him to finish, and it was agony to sit there, eyes frantically pacing the gouged walls hoping no one was approaching. Fitz’s mind reached across the mindbubble towards her, and she let him in, pooling their energy together to send pulsing waves of consciousness out around them, searching the nearby areas.

With each pulse that passed over them, the thoughts of their friends flared for a moment before dimming as it passed, but there was no one else nearby. No other flashes of thought near them that they could identify.

Wait.

There.

Fitz made a muffled sound of distress, and she could see the others’ heads snap up towards the both of them.

Shit, they transmitted. Opening their minds, they showed the others what they’d found--or rather, what was about to find them. A few halls away were thoughts, approaching quickly in their direction.

Holy shit they’re close, Biana breathed. And she was right. Normally, they’d be able to detect someone this close clear and simple, but there was a haze over their thoughts that she’d never seen before. It was as though they’d made their thoughts invisible, and she’d only barely been able to see through the deception.

There was nothing to be done about it, however, except fervently hope Dex could open that goddamn door before that person walked around the corner and saw the conglomeration of shadows and a door opening on its own. Which would happen in approximately...thirty seconds.

C’mon, I’m so close, Dex strained, mental voice shaking.

Footsteps echoed just a few moments away, and she began to bounce in place, squeezing her fingers so tight she was surprised the bones didn’t snap.

GOT IT, he cried, wrenching the door open as the lock unlatched. It was a race as everyone scrambled into the room, the footsteps and their hidden thoughts growing closer and closer each second. She couldn’t even think through the adrenaline, her arms shaking so badly there was nothing but the colors in front of her and her goal.

The door clicked shut behind them, just as the person rounded the corner.

They’d made it. Her breath came out in harsh pants, and none of the sounds around her made much sense, but she just couldn’t take her eyes off that door.

FUCK, Tam yelled, and as a force field flickered into place around them, Sophie finally turned around.

To find a room full of various guards, all of whom were staring back, malice and shock glimmering on their faces. But what was even worse were the caged creatures behind them.

Viscous pale syrup dripped from vats spread throughout the room, pulsing with thick spiderwebs of veins and mucous. Her stomach dropped as she tilted her head back to see them more fully, vaguely humanoid but distorted. Limbs stretched out like sticky candy, skin close to wreaking, appendages ending in blunt bone creeping its way out of the body. Hair floated around them in the thick substances, matted and black and shining.

They seemed dormant, but their appendages twitched in time to their thunderous heartbeat, sending waves throughout their liquid enclosures.

That was all she had the chance to see before the guards closest to them pulled out their melders.

Everything seemed to be moving at twice the speed it was supposed to be, throwing her completely off her rhythm.

Maruca stood in front of them, arms spread wide as she held a force-field around them all, Biana had let go of her, choosing to spend her energy in a fight rather than vanishing them, and it was as they broke contact that she realized just how much of her energy Biana had taken.

She swayed on her feet for a brief moment, casting out her mind and trying to get a sense of how many there were in this room that appeared infinite.

Rows of vats spread farther than she could see, although not all seemed to be occupied. None of them should’ve been. They’d gone out of their way to ensure they’d stay far away from any creatures, no matter the potential benefits. There was nothing that could be done against them.

Maruca grunted as pangs clattered against the force field, trying to find a way through. Sophie’s breathing quickened as she realized she couldn’t feel the presence of anyone in the room. It was although she was entirely alone. She couldn’t feel Fitz next to her, or anyone under the force field, and she couldn’t detect anyone outside of it.

There was an ominous silence, despite the shouts of the people around her. Security personnel were murmuring into communication devices, alerting others of a “disturbance in sector 34, room B12.” But no one in her group said a word. They’d learned not to. They spoke in the mindspace however, hysterical and screaming.

This was not the room they were supposed to be in.

There was nothing they could do as warning lights began to flash around them, strobing effects searing her eyes as alarm bells tolled, shrill and vibrating.

It couldn’t have been more than five seconds since they’d walked through that door.

She steeled herself, drawing on that knot of power she kept stored beneath her ribs, feeling the energy channel from her chest towards her head, building and building until almost painful. But she couldn’t release it. She couldn’t attack through the force field, and Maruca couldn’t drop it because then those melders would hit them head-on and they couldn’t withstand that.

Everyone else was in a similar predicament.

Then it got worse.

She didn’t think it could get worse.

How could it get worse?

The creature in the tank seemed to be reacting to either the lights or the sounds--it didn’t really matter which. What mattered was that it was moving; it was opening its gaping maw and screaming within that tank, air bubbles shooting their way towards the ceiling and lingering, a never-ending stream as its body began to buck and thrash sporadically, sharp limbs colliding with glass.

The cylindrical vat cracked, a spiderweb of broken veins spreading from the point of impact, growing with each collision as it began pounding against the glass.

The muffled sounds it made were absolutely horrible, and she slapped her palms over her ears, grimacing. But what truly stopped her heart was the sound of falling glass, wet and raining down, clattering about and bouncing off the force field.

Because now the creature was loose.

The figures who had been attacking them now swore, looking back and forth between each other before darting out of the room; their weapons still raised despite them being little threat beneath their bubble.

The door latched behind them, and Sophie seemed to come to the horrifying reality at the same time as the others.

They had no way out of this room.

SCATTER! Maruca screamed as she dropped the force field, and everyone complied, darting around the room, trying to get out of the way, hoping hoping hoping that creature wasn’t the exceptionally violent kind, and that it would leave them alone.

All of the creatures they’d encountered so far had been aggressive in some way or another--some simply left you alone unless you got close, others would attack on sight. They’d started a notebook to keep track of all the kinds they knew about, but this one was entirely new.

The only solace that could be found was that it seemed to be the only one that escaped its tank, the others appearing undisturbed.

Watching it from behind a stack of crates, Sophie could see it growing more and more agitated, banging its appendages against what seemed to be its head in distress, a warbled screech piercing the air as it began to flail about.

She ducked at the distinct sound of tables and boxes being crushed as the creature stumbled, tearing at the ground. She began to frantically search the room, looking for something--anything--that could help them at all. There had to be another exit, there had to be something they could do.

Her eyes met Keefe’s across the room, and for the strangest moment, she wasn’t concerned about the creature killing them all, or the guards capturing them and holding them hostage, or their explosives going off when they were still in the building. She was just worried he could feel her panic and it would be too overwhelming for him to concentrate.

Wait.

That was it.

Her mind clicked the pieces together and she sank to the floor, pressing her back against the shelves embedded in the wall behind her, putting her fingers to her temples. The creature was overwhelmed and overstimulated, and it was reacting poorly. She’d never tried to communicate with or inflict on any of the creatures before...but she’d never had a reason to.

She just hoped it would work.

Using that gathered energy, she reached out towards the creature, a mental hand fumbling in the dark. But it appeared she couldn’t...find it. There was just...nothingness...wherever she reached.

Opening her eyes slightly, she squinted up at the creature, which was still stumbling around in response to the overstimulation. The visual helped her narrow in on its mind, and as she reached for it she began to realize... its mind was the silence. She hadn’t been able to detect the mind of the people in the room or her friends because this creature’s mind was so incredibly silent; it broadcasted a blanket over everyone nearby.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING, someone hissed into the mindbubble. But she was so far gone that it barely registered as more than a gentle, far-off whisper.

Desperately trying to control herself, Sophie began bringing forward peaceful, calmer memories; she had to reach further back than she’d expected; life hadn’t been particularly relaxing as of late. Finally, when her head seemed to overflow with calming vibes, she sent them out like a shockwave around her, a ripple in the empty.

Anyone paying even the slightest bit of attention could identify the exact moment the wave hit the creature. Its spine went rigid, snapping straight as its head jerked up, their gazes meeting. Each noise fizzled out in the same instant. No one dared breath in that poignant silence, the space almost empty now, and for the briefest moment, she wished that it weren’t so empty, so quiet.

Her wish was answered.

There was no warning as the creature’s head cocked to the side, staring her down with those empty, glistening black eyes, no warning as it lunged towards her.

Well FUCK, was the only thought in her head as it careened towards her, stumbling as though it’d only learned to walk that day, which it might have.

Its movements were uncoordinated, but that didn’t make them any less violent as the tables around them crashed into each other as it crashed onto all limbs, moving with such speed it could cross the room in less than a blink.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t think. Her friends were screaming, but she couldn’t make a sound. Her eyelids were fluttering shut as that suffocating silence pressed in closer and closer.

The creature was charging straight towards her and she couldn’t think. It lost its balance, coming down hard on top of her, but its limbs were too long to crush her, and instead, it was crashing into the shelves behind her and crushing glass and breaking rock and its own bones and she. Couldn’t. Think.

Crystal shattered behind her as the shelves were wrenched from the walls, the creature desperately trying to right itself, shrieking that inhuman sound. Vials began to rain down behind her, crashing on the hard floor.

The noxious scents of the spilling bottles began to flood the room, visible gases blooming from where the colors mixed, sizzling and bubbling on the floor. The creature bucked its head, scrambling away, limbs bashing the floor as it dashed far, far away into the hollows of the room.

The silence was back, but this time it was accompanied by fumes and watering eyes as everyone pushed to their feet, stumbling and coughing.

We havetoget...Dex began, eyeing the frothing liquids….out ofhere. He was standing so far away. How had he gotten there? She might’ve been nodding her head, agreeing with him, but without the adrenaline, everything was...so slow...and the floor seemed liquid and plush.

She couldn’t see who began coughing, their whole body wracked in a fit as the vapors became so thick she couldn’t see. It occurred to her too late to try holding her breath, her eyelids fluttering as she stumbled a few steps, but she didn’t actually know where she was going.

A thud sounded behind her, and she turned, the room seeming to lag as she did so. Biana. It had been...Biana. She’d made the sound. Her body was crumpled on the ground, unconscious. That should’ve sent a spike of alarm through her, telling her to move. To go. Get out.

But she couldn’t think. And the others quickly followed, a series of thuds echoing throughout the space as one by one, they succumbed to the fumes.

Sophie was still standing, and she briefly made eye contact with Dex--why was he so far--watching him fumble with his imparter. An explosive rumbling sounded in the distance, growing stronger and closer with each moment her eyes remained open. She was upright only long enough to see Dex fall before she felt her muscles give, and she crashed down hard.

Wings AU Taglist:

@loudnerdfest @rainbowtay-11 @cadence-talle @pyrokinetic-loser @ahecktonoffandomsinoneblog @itstiger720 @loverofallthingssmart @cowboypossume @jolieharkness @wings-of-hell-and-beyond @shellyseashell @blossomjenniie @imaramennoodle @booknerdddddd @akotlcblog

#that might've been confusing to read #but you can always ask me questions about the au!!#and now i can answer them more because you actually have some content lol #also can I say i hate formatting #cause I do #anyways please give me your thoughts because I've had this au for so long it feels like it doesn't exist outside my mind #so i'd love to know what you think of it #kinda apocalytic if i do say so myself #anyways ill stop now but thanks for readingggg #no clue how many chapters there'll be but definitely at least a few more #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc wings au #kotlc fic #my writing <3 #shattered upside down #oh also yea it has an actual name lol #tw swearing

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op-peccatori · 4 years ago

Text

Hopefully, Yours (part 1) | MLQC Victor

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Victor/Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 8823

Summary: A fight between co-stars leads to you taking their place, along with the man you’ve been carrying a rather fervid torch for. A happy accident—except it’s a dating show and you have to pretend your feelings aren’t real. | Part 2

Warnings/Tags: language, fluff, oblivious behaviour, dating show, social media, Victor might be a little OOC because I’ve written him differently, some making out in the next part hence the rating, no smut though, my sense of humour

A/n: as always, I’m here to clown around. I tried something a lil new (for me) in this one 👉👈 something I picked up quite recently from works I adored, so I hope you like it! It got longer than I intended so I had to split it into 2 parts ;.; Victor said: keep writing, hoe.

ALSO!!! Yours by Ella Henderson is. THE Victor/MC song for me. I felt it in my bones when I listened to it again after all these years. brb crying

It’s the incessant buzzing of your phone that lures you out of the warm cocoon of your blanket.

You don’t really want to come out of your haven. Not after the week you’ve had, and because you know what awaits you. But as Anna had told you, there’s no way you can avoid this. They had finished editing the episode on Thursday, and Jason had already texted you last night to let you know it would be ready to be uploaded at 7:00 pm today.

Reaching listlessly for your phone, you squint at the bright screen through bleary eyes; it’s 9:00 pm already, and you’ve managed to sleep most of your Sunday away. It’s been a whole week since you filmed the episode, and while you were able to keep your thoughts at bay through it, it’s finally caught up to you.

After all, this is the episode you’re going to be in.

Pulling your laptop towards you, you open the tab that has the streaming site open. Your heart begins its anxious thump against its cage, a beat all too familiar to you by now. As the video begins playing, the memories of that day rise up to the forefront of your mind, refusing to be outdone by this meticulously edited version.

It started with a plan. A very well-thought-out plan.

“He called me a bitch. How can you still expect me to shoot with this jerk?”

Things were not going according to the very well-thought-out plan.

From your place next to Homer, the camera guy, you watched with mounting apprehension as Hollow resisted the AD’s attempts to placate her. But she did seem calmer, the scalding rage of her glare simmering down as he continued to reason with her.

And then her partner for the episode walked back onto the set.

“She said my songs are predictable! You want me to work with a hater?” Kai protested loudly, and Hollow turned back to him in a fury. The AD looked back at you in dismay, the rest of the staff watching with varying levels of exasperation.

“This is supposed to be a cheesy, ultra-romantic show,” Kiki whispered from her place at your side.

“This is what the reality is. All that sappy crap is for the camera,” Willow snorted, shaking her head in disenchanted disappointment.

There may be more than a kernel of truth in that. Hopefully, Yours was your company’s latest project; the second season, the first one having been produced by a different group. It’s a romantic web-series that featured different couples going on dates around town. The couples featured ranged from non-celebrities to people who are household names. So far, there hadn’t been too many issues with the participants—so you really should have expected this.

“Not always!” you cut in, fiddling nervously with your planner. “Some of the couples have gone on to date for real. Raymond and Liliana got married!” A lovely couple from an episode that aired last year. They’d been in the news recently too.

“They’re getting divorced,” Homer piped up in response. You hoped the look on your face let him know how unhelpful that was and turned back to the clashing couple. The AD looked harrowed and harassed as things turn increasingly hostile.

“Willow, do we have a backup couple?” you asked after a long moment of watching them spit insults. “Or just one person to replace either of them. What about Carlson?”

“He won’t be in town until tomorrow.”

‘Can I leave town?’ You wondered in a fit of desperate, wishful thinking.

“And we’ve got everyone here, with everything set up. Can we really waste time?” Kiki wondered out loud.

“No, we can’t,” answered a strained voice from behind you. All four of you turn to see Anna striding towards you, her hassled expression sending a frisson of worry through your stomach. “___, we’ve got guests.”

“Guests?” you repeated numbly. “What guests?” From the look on her face, it couldn’t be good news.

Anna held your gaze for a second, looking vaguely apologetic, before stepping to the side, allowing you to get a look at who Jason, the director, had rushed off to greet. You felt the ground shift beneath you, throat drying rapidly and the surrounding noise dimming as you focused on the new arrivals—your friend, your boss if you insist on the technicalities, and the star of most of your daydreams. LFG’s very own CEO, Victor, and his loyal secretary, Goldman.

In other words, people you hadn’t expected to see today.

“Why?” you whimpered, mostly panicked, but distantly amused by how enthusiastically he’s being greeted. It gave you a few moments to get it together, a familiar buzz coming to life underneath your skin.

This is terrible. Surely, this is karmic retribution for some misdeed committed by you.

“Boss, get it together,” Kiki hissed in an echo of your thoughts, and you realized you had half-fallen back into her and Willow’s arms, their hands steady on your shoulders.

“This is really bad timing. Like, really bad,” Willow pointed out unnecessarily as you straightened up, running a quick hand through your hair.

“Goldman said they just dropped in to see how it’s coming along. I don’t really understand why, this is not at all Victor’s cup of tea, but he’d been hesitant about the show, so...” With a sympathetic smile, Anna placed a hand on your elbow, squeezing lightly. The comfort it brought is chased away almost immediately by a furious screech.

“That is it. I’m done!”

Turning just in time to watch Hollow stalk off the set, you tried to restart your thought process. You just needed to solve this.

“How do we solve this?” Kiki asked in a low voice, and Willow shook her head helplessly.

With no answer for her, you could only watch as Jason led Victor and Goldman towards the set. You knew the exact moment he saw you; there was no smile, but a slow blink. It was still early in the afternoon, and his patrician features were alight with a soft glow in the golden sunlight, the curve of his lip relaxed and his clever gaze taking in you and everything happening around you in seconds. You’re not sure what he saw in your face but it made the corners of his mouth pull downwards.

Your stomach plummeted, seized by a sudden urge to flee.

But with his long strides, he reached you before you could take a step back. Kiki and Willow retreated silently, greeting him like newly registered soldiers coming face to face with their general and leaving you at his mercy. You would have felt miffed, but the way the sunlight softened his features was a little distracting. His lips moved, and you’re certain he said something, but couldn’t quite hear him over the sound of your heart drumming in your ears.

Homer coughed loudly, popping the bubble.

“Good morning, Victor!” Certain your lack of actual delight was obvious, you tried to inject as much enthusiasm into your voice as you could while your project went up in flames behind you. Not that you weren’t happy to see him, as the sudden thrill twisting through insisted on reminding you, but the prospect of disappointing him was one you would rather not face.

There was no visible reaction from Victor, but Homer looked a bit disturbed by the attempt. Goldman just looked like he pitied you, while Jason looked oddly contemplative. This was probably his first time seeing you this…dazzled.

“Good morning,” Victor replied evenly. His eyes, a constant, focused storm and his silken hair falling artfully over his forehead form a picture so lovely, almost beyond words. It’s never stopped you from waxing poetic about them, or his long list of admirable personality traits, but he had a way of knowing when you’re not paying attention. “Looks like I picked a bad time to check in.”

You couldn’t quite pin down the inflexion in his tone, but your immediate guess was that he was either severely disappointed or was low-key mocking you.

With how quickly things derailed, it’s understandable.

“Haha,” you laughed—an unfortunate coping mechanism that seems to flare up most often in his presence. Also, because Victor looked unfairly gorgeous, as always and you were a fool with a worryingly erratic pulse. “Just a few bumps. Nothing we can’t fix.”

Behind you, Kai declared his intent to leave as well. There’s a contract, so they would have to look into this, but that would take time. At that moment, Victor was eyeing the singer leaving the set and your nervous smile with his brows steadily climbing higher.

“Right. Anything I can do to help?” he offered, and the shame that elicited is so fierce you felt like you’d shrunk. This was supposed to be a casual visit, for him to see how the filming was going and instead you made him feel the need to step in and clean up the mess.

“No,” you said, firm, immediate, vehement. He frowned down at you. “We’ll come up with something. Why don’t you two take a seat, we’ll get you some drinks and Anna can go over the ratings and numbers with you.”

Victor seemed to hesitate, still frowning at you, but relented when you mustered up a small but convincing smile for him. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything,” he insisted, because he’s nice like that, before following Goldman and Anna into the small room you’ve converted into an office. You have a small but closed set for the first meeting of the couples, before the crew moves to whatever location has been picked out for the date.

“He’s nicer than he looks,” Homer observed as the two of you watched him leave.

“He’s lovely,” you said miserably. Who would have thought there’d be a day when you said that about Victor? He was still an evil capitalist, but he’s a kind man.

Homer didn’t get the chance to reply as Jason rushed up to you.

“Okay, so we’re gonna have to sit those two down for a talk, but we don’t have time for that today. We need substitutes,” Jason said, not nearly as panicked as you would expect from a director who had no one to direct. It was admirable, this ability to keep his head even when he hits what looks like a dead end.

“I’ll make some calls.” Reaching into your pocket, your mind ram through your options as your hand closed around your phone.

“I want you to do it,” Jason declared.

It took you a few seconds to realize you hadn’t misheard. He looked back at you steadily, already resolute in his decision. You looked around, expecting protests, but the staff members only looked eager.

“…I don’t like this joke,” you said, slowly.

“Good thing it wasn’t one!” Jason returned cheerfully. “Before you turn it down, let me say—please? And don’t go off with the ‘I’m nobody!’ thing. People know who you are.”

“Um.” You really, really didn’t know what to say to him.

“My brother thinks you’re hot,” Homer offered, and Jason beamed at him.

“Okay, we’ll do this. You’re the producer of one of the oldest and most popular shows. You’ve gained more media presence over the last two years. You’re also friends with Kiro and Professor Lucien, so people have been quite curious about you for a while! This is just a fun little thing. Please?” Jason pleaded.

In the spirit of fairness, you took a minute to think about it. It would solve half the problem. And today’s location was a local fair, where the couple got to try out anything they want to, with all the expenses covered by the company. The very thought of stepping in front of the camera left your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t deny the bud of excitement that seemed to have taken root.

In the end, your stomach made the choice for you.

“If you think it’ll be fine, then sure,” you acceded, thoughts filled with stir-fried noodles and holding hands with a faceless person. “But what about the other person?”

“Hmm,” Jason looked in the direction of the office, reminding you that you don’t have all day to decide.

“I could call Gavin and ask if he’s free,” you suggested. People adore him. “Or Lucien?”

Jason nodded as if truly considering it, his gaze sharp on you. “Good choices. What about Victor?”

“Yeah, no. That is a bad idea,” you said at once, without giving it a moment’s thought. This was a dating show, where people go on cute dates and act adorable on camera. The very thought of Victor doing that at all, let alone with you…was something you couldn’t think of because it was ridiculous. And bad for your poor heart.

“It is an excellent idea,” Jason disagreed. You hated to be the bearer of bad news, but this was necessary. You’ve known Victor for a while now, and felt responsible for Jason’s well-being that would inevitably be threatened if he embarks on this particular path.

“He’d never agree to it,” you told him solemnly. The man barely agrees to do interviews; a show like this? Out of the question. “You know who he is, right? He doesn’t have time for this.”

“Why don’t you leave that to me, and go get ready. I’ll go get your man,” Jason said, loud and bright, shooing you in the direction of the dressing rooms. You stood there for another minute, dazed and afraid. What if Victor thought it was your idea?

The horror.

The terror.

“I’m still texting Lucien!” you called after him, voice pitched high in your alarm. Before you could follow Jason to make sure Victor knows you would never suggest this, an arm slid around your shoulder.

“Darling,” Arnold, the head stylist, cooed at you. “I heard the good news.”

“How?” It had been two minutes. People shouldn’t be spreading this without the director’s confirmation.

“Forget the hows. This is your time to shine. Come, we’re going to make that CEO drool,” he proclaimed, shepherding you towards the dressing rooms. “And I can finally do something about this hair!”

“He’s not going to agree.” You were absolutely certain of that, even as your mind continued to conjure cutesy images of you sharing cotton candy with the reticent man.

Taking a seat at the vanity, you reached for your phone over the cotton pads, watching Arnold’s reflection in the large mirror as he flitted about the small room, picking out different outfits. You hadn’t gotten a chance to check it for a while, and scrolled through your texts swiftly, pausing on a few in particular.

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Victor [9:00]: Hello. I’ve got some time off today.

Victor [9:02]: Is it alright if we drop by the set? What time is your lunch break?

Victor [9:20]: You must be busy. I spoke to Anna. I’ll see you later.

Victor [9:25]: Also, good morning.

‎

Oh.

He had actually let you know he’d be dropping in. Taciturn and domineering he may be, but Victor’s quiet consideration often left you glowing with warmth. In comparison, your own clumsiness often left you embarrassed. In this instance, it made you feel doubly determined to do this right.

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Y/N [12: 05]: Hi, sorry I missed these. Don’t worry, I’ll get us back on track.

‎

Closing Victor’s chat, you took a moment to consider your options before making your choice.

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Y/N [12:07]: Lucien! Are you free?

Lucien [12:15]: Hello. Just wrapped up a lecture. I thought you were going to be shooting today?

Y/N [12:16]: I am. Actually, I had a favour to ask.

‎

You stared down at the screen of your phone, shoulders relaxing as one of the assistants fussed with your hair. Should you wait for Jason before asking him? You knew what the outcome will be, regardless of what you wanted. You’ve always known, always kept your thoughts safe behind a barrier, never letting them spill out in Victor’s presence.

You thought back to his disappointment, and something fragile in your chest tightened.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you prayed to all the powers above that this works out.

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Victor [12:18]: Dummy. I’m not worried.

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There was a knock at the door as you opened the chat, thrown off but pleased by Victor’s confidence.

“Guys, can I come in?”

It was Jason.

With trembling fingers curling tight, you sat up straighter as he was let in. Your pulse quickens, your emotions jumbling together until your can’t tell them apart. You kept your expectations low. You knew what the answer would be. It couldn’t hurt if you expected it.

You just hoped it wouldn’t change anything. It wasn’t your idea.

“He agreed!” Jason announced with a flourish, and your heart halted its despondent march. “His secretary’s picking up his outfit, they said it won’t take too long. We’ll do his hair and mak—uh, are you okay?”

You swallowed your heart back down. “He said yes.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, stretching out his answer, nodding as Arnold thrust an outfit at him.

“And he…knows it’s with…me?” you asked carefully.

Jason’s brows climbed a notch higher. “Yes, of course.” His eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t quite read.

“Right, right. That’s great! Fantastic. Wonderful,” you said admittedly weakly, turning your gaze back to your reflection. The colour seemed to have drained from your skin, and you ignored the concerned glance exchanged by Jason and Arnold.

“___, hey,” Jason began gently, coming up to stand behind your chair. “Are you okay with this?”

You studied his worried expression, thoughts turning inward. You shifted aside the panic, the disbelief, the prickling nerves, and shushed the sparks of excitement.

A date with Victor.

It sounded wonderful. But the problem was never about you not wanting it. It was that you’ve wanted it for so long and so badly. Could you really have this?

“It’s okay to say no. It’s just…I don’t think it’ll be as awful as you think,” Jason said. His brow furrowed as the lines of your face smoothed out.

Oh.

“It’s for the camera,” you remembered, and Jason hummed thoughtfully. Regardless of what he may think of you, Victor wouldn’t let it show on the screen. You knew he was aware of what the show entails. So, perhaps, you could have this. It was for work. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay.”

Your breath evened out from its shallow state, and you smiled up at Jason, who still looked concerned.

“It’ll be okay.” Your phone buzzed again, and you gathered yourself once more.

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Lucien [12: 23]: What can I do for you?

Victor [12:24]: And I look forward to working with you.

‎

It wouldn’t be real.

Telling yourself it wouldn’t be real was easy.

Sitting next to Victor, your high stools positioned close together as you tried to keep your thoughts away from dangerous paths, was not easy. But the light notes of his scent, sandalwood and myrrh if your nose hadn’t led you astray, threatened to lull you into a state of near-intoxication.

Jason had wanted to film the ‘first meeting’ and, for the sake of authenticity, decided to have Victor wait in front of the camera while you got to be the one to walk in. Which meant it was straight from the dressing room to the set. While you were thankful you wouldn’t be filmed drooling on camera, it still meant you wouldn’t get a chance to talk to him until after, or in between takes.

You were a lot more grateful for the arrangement when you did walk to the set, because the sight of Victor—clad in a slim-fit black shirt, paired with a dark grey jacket and black pants that stretched deliciously over his muscled thighs—stopped you dead in your tracks, your thoughts wiped blissfully clean.

The look on his face, bright under the studio lights, had been unreadable, but it didn’t look like his usual unimpressed poker face, so you decided to take it as not quite a win, but not a loss either. Then the small upturn of the corners of his lips, however, threatened to overload your system, prompting you to avert your gaze slightly as you walked to him, for fear of losing yourself.

Your hi had been shyer than intended, but his hello had been the gentlest you had ever heard it.

And then he handed you a bouquet of red, fragrant roses and you felt yourself grow weak.

It was a short take, where you both introduced yourselves, and discussed where you’d be going for the date.

“Do you like fairs?” he’d asked, gaze intent as if your answer was of the utmost importance.

“I love them,” you’d answered, meaning it completely, and he’d looked glad.

Even through the wild beating of your heart, you had managed to feel impressed. He was doing wonderfully already. Who knew Victor had these acting skills? Hopefully, he thought the same of you. You weren’t acting, though, and this, you were quickly realizing, could be a wonderful way to lift the lid off the pot just a little, and let your real feelings shine through.

You would be filming the individual, interview type scenes last, after the date.

With the first meeting done, with Jason going over the take to make sure he had everything he needed, you would be moving to the location soon. But first-

You looked around quickly, covering your mic and making sure nobody was paying too much attention to you, before turning to Victor—only to nearly jump in fright when you met his eyes. How he’d known you wanted to talk, you’d never know. His own eyes had widened when you’d turned around all of a sudden, the tips of his ears reddening slightly. He had probably been startled by your reaction.

“Hi,” you whispered, grinning up at him, and his lips twitched as he covered his mic.

“You’re doing well,” Victor told you, giving you a firm nod, and you couldn’t quite keep from beaming at him.

“Thanks, you too. I never knew you were hiding such a skilled actor in there!” You really meant it, but your words gave him pause, mouth opening and closing as he considered his response. Strange, as modesty was something he didn’t often bother with. Not to say he’s arrogant, just that he knew his strengths.

“…thank you,” he finally said. “You too. I didn’t know you could…act.”

Because you weren’t acting. The blushing, the shy giggling, the warmth buzzing through you, they were painfully real.

You shrugged, smiling slightly, and he looked away.

“Just…thank you, Victor,” you murmured. “I know this isn’t really your thing. But I promise I’ll do my best to make it enjoyable.”

The light, airy sound that escaped his mouth could almost be a laugh. He did shoot you a small smirk, facing you once more. “Well, you’re not wrong. But it can’t be too bad. I’ve heard they’ve got good street food.”

“Good street food,” you repeated blankly. Wasn’t he taking this acting thing too far? This was bordering on alarming, coming from the man who used to look down on you for eating instant noodles.

“Yes.” He looks at you as if daring you to argue, and, well, who are you to argue with an actor’s method?

His smile faded slightly as yours widened, eyes fixating on yours, your voice pitching higher in your excitement. “I know, yeah, great food. Literally the only reason I agreed to do this!”

Victor’s face shutters at that, his lips pressing tightly together. “Hm.” He turned back to face the camera, leaving you confused, before realisation dawned.

“Hey, don’t worry! I won’t be too much of a glutton, we’ll be on camera, after all,” you told him, as reassuringly as possible because you and good food were a dangerous combo.

He arched a sharp brow at you. “We’ll see about that. I may spend most of my time in kitchen, but Mr Mills has much to tell me about some of your reactions.”

It was only through the sheer power of your offence that you were able to scowl at him even with the heat flaring up in your cheeks. “Well, there’s no way the food there will be as good as the one in Souvenir, so we have nothing to worry about.”

You resisted the urge to cross your arms, keeping your hands neatly folded in your lap as you turned away from him. But when he said nothing for a whole minute, you couldn’t resist the urge to sneak a peek, only to be left with your jaw slack.

Victor was still facing forward, but the corners of his mouth seemed to be curling up despite the effort he was clearly putting into keeping them neutral, his tiny smile still managing to spill through the seams. It enraptured you, a willing captive to the sight of him so pleased, and you wondered if you could make it through this with your heart intact.

But then, you told yourself through your daze, any chef would be happy to receive such praise for their food.

[video]

hopefully, yours, episode 3, part 1: Introductions (Victor and Y/n)

450,569 views • Feb 8th, 2020

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JTV ✓

1.19M subscribers

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51,509 comments

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Jason P ✓

pinned comment

This is a special one guys ♡

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needwater 45 minutes ego

AM I HALLUCINATING OR IS VICTOR LI ACTUALLY ON A DATING SHOW?

view 50 replies

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somsom 23 minutes ago

omg it’s y/n! We rarely get to see her on TV. She’s so cute!!!!

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orangeismycolour 16 minutes ago

!!!! Victor and Y/n!!! Omg ever since I saw them attend the Loveland gala together last year, I knew there was something there!!

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tooktiktook 8 minutes ago

um. isn’t this kind of an odd combo?

cheribb 5 minutes ago

@tooktiktok I thought so too but they look pretty cute together. I mean…he totally blushed when he saw her! And his eyes went so soft!

tooktiktok 4 minutes ago

@cheribb Well, she seems sweet but I think he was just being nice.

By the time you were shuffled into a van and driven to the site of the fair, your nerves had mostly settled.

Of course, that may have had something to do with the pudding cup Victor had handed you once you were in your seats. Goldman had brought over a paper bag, with Victor plucking two cups from it like a magician with a hat. With that said, while it’s a trick you’ve seen many a time, it never fails to bring a sparkle to your eye.

With Arnold’s permission, you were more than happy to dig right in. Your makeup would have to be retouched once you got there even if you didn’t eat.

It was easy to relax in the steady familiarity of Victor’s presence. A dangerous notion, your unwavering faith in Victor, that dictated everything would be okay if he was there because he would either make it so, or you, with confidence half-drawn from him, would make sure of it yourself.

It was only once you were halfway through the treat, humming and wiggling in your joy, that you realized Victor hadn’t started on his. Rather, his eyes were fixed firmly on you, intent in observing your devouring of the pudding.

The next bite went down a little heavier as you turned to him.

“Is something wrong?” Your enthusiasm surely couldn’t have come as a surprise.

He hesitated, seemingly on the verge of saying something, before clearing his throat and looking out he the window at the slow-moving traffic.

“No. Just…eat slowly,” he muttered, refusing to look at you. You squint at him, at the pink creeping up the back of his neck, sucking on the spoon thoughtfully. “There’s no need to rush.”

“Sorry. I got a little too excited.” Your laugh is a little hollow, and you muffle it with another mouthful of the soft, sweet dessert, missing his quick glance back at you.

He sighed, sudden and a little ragged.

“No, I meant that you should take your time and savour it,” he told you, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “I can make it for you anytime, so there will be many more chances in the future.”

The next spoonful remained frozen by your mouth as you struggled to process his words. Warm fingers came to rest against the back of your hand, guiding it, and the spoon, to your lips. Your skin tingled, but what was more damning was the way he held your gaze as your lips parted, the metal spoon warm against your tongue as you tasted the sweet delicacy.

It felt all the more sweeter, however, because of the little smile dancing across Victor’s lips.

You were rescued from attempting to respond to that by the van slowing to a stop, with Jason and Homer climbing in before they got moving again. Homer would be the one following you around the fair, as they only needed to get a few takes of you indulging in various activities.

“We absolutely need one with the ferris wheel, of course. A little cliched, but still damn cute. Maybe we can fix a camera in the cabin…” Jason trailed off, turning to Homer for his input. “If you think it’ll be better without you there.”

‘How would it be better without Homer there?’ you wanted to protest. ‘I’ll screw it up if left to my own devices! Professional environment aside, that’s a little too romantic!’

Something prickled at the back of your neck, and you realized Victor seemed to be trying to get your attention, albeit in a very silent way you probably wouldn’t have caught on to if you hadn’t spent so much time studying him.

He said nothing even when you met his gaze, but a reassuring warmth calmed you all the same. I’ll be there, he seemed to say. Trust me.

You were worried about the romantic atmosphere getting to your head, but surely Victor, the ultimate voice of reason, wouldn’t let you get carried away?

“Okay, we won’t crowd you guys too much, but remember to avoid turning away from the camera!”

That had been the last thing Jason said to you both before he retreated to his place behind Homer, who was ready with the camera propped over his shoulder. Your mics were affixed to your clothes, and people were already beginning to shoot curious looks your way. It wasn’t an uncommon sight; many vloggers and people working for food channels could often be found in places like these, flitting about with their cameras out as they partook in the activities available.

While being around cameras was nothing new, it was a little strange to be on the other side of them. Nervousness weighing on your chest, you reminded yourself over and over: be natural, don’t act like a lovesick fool, don’t stare at Victor for too long. Turning to the man himself as Homer adjusted the camera settings, hoping to draw inspiration from his steadfast composure, you could only stare in confusion at the intent way in which he was staring at the entrance to the fair.

Following the trajectory of his gaze, you squinted, hoping to see what had caught his attention. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, with people milling about, the welcoming sign high above their heads bright and welcoming.

“Victor?”

“Hm?”

“Is everything okay?” you asked hesitantly, and he nodded, almost distracted.

“Are we ready?” he asked Homer, who gave him a thumbs up.

Jason grinned at you, winking in what he seemed to think was a discreet manner. “Have fun, you two.”

You couldn’t quite pretend there were no cameras, not with Homer keeping up with you as you began to walk through the entrance arch. Looking at Victor was easier, just to block out the awareness of your companions, of course.

Catching your nervous glances, he inclined his head towards you and made an abortive movement, hand rising and falling midway. His jaw clenched, and then he offered you his arm, elbow bent.

As your hand curled around his arm, you focused on your vibrant surroundings. A task made more difficult when, after a short pause, you felt him tuck his elbow into his side, the broad span of his shoulders relaxing when you tightened your grip.

“I’ve been meaning to come here for years, but never really got the chance to,” you told Victor, your voice still edged with nervousness. But Victor nodded at you again, the usual stern line of his mouth quirking up, and your mind stuttered, committing itself to memorizing the precious curve of his mouth.

“In that case I’m glad we got to come here together,” he told you, and it took a good deal of effort not to gape at him. “It’s a first for both of us.”

You nodded, stunned by this unforeseen acting prowess. Seemed like you’ve discovered another one of his many talents.

“Hopefully, it’s the first of many,” he added, a smug lilt to his voice, and this time, you did gape.

“Y-yeah,” you answered, face heating up as you turned away for the sake of your dignity. “Hopefully.”

bandanaman @headaccs

are we all seeing this?? he’s such a gentleman!! I was not expecting this man to be smooth. #HopefullyYours

mintmadness @mintsallover

@headaccs HAVE YOU SEEN HIM? He doesn’t even need words, one look and I would be on my knees. #HopefullyYours #VictorLi

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@mintsallover calm yo thirsty ass down lmao

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raspberrydream @berryberry

“the first of many” omg what does he mean???? #HopefullyYours

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freshasnow @crystalmoon

Yeah, I’m not really feeling this. I thought we were going to get Kai and Hollow this week? #HopefullyYours

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teatime ✓ @spillit

For those of you asking, yes, we knew Victor Li and Y/n were going to be on Hopefully, Yours. Don’t worry darlings, we’ll have some quality tea for you soon! #HopefullyYours

Spotting the first of the food vendors, you both headed over to it, peering at the fresh dumplings. The vendor straightened up at the sight of the camera, a benign smile spreading across his face when you asked him for permission to film, nodding and plating plump, steaming dumplings with the utmost grace.

Gordon, as he introduced himself, was more than happy to talk about his family business, their two restaurants in Loveland, while Homer took close-ups of the dumpling that Victor broke apart for a better look.

“My daughter comes here every year with me, insisting she can handle things by herself, but honestly, I just enjoy coming here,” he chortled, before fixing the two of you with a knowing look. “It’s a completely different atmosphere from the restaurant! And it’s always nice to see sweet young couples such as yourselves. Reminds me of my own fair dates with my wife…”

You couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Victor, who seemed content to chew on his snack. He caught your eyes, before his flickered over your head towards Homer and Jason. Inexplicably, his ears began to tint a deep crimson, as he swallowed with some effort and stepped closer to you.

It began to make sense when he lifted the other half of the dumpling to your lips, Gordon gasping an oh my! in the background, and even as your heart began to race, your eyes widening, you felt…bad. Jason had obviously asked him to do this, and you felt terrible about him having to embarrass himself like this. But he did it, and so you took a small bite of the dumpling, the juicy filling suddenly tasteless on your tongue.

And then there was a soft sensation on your chin, your eyes lifting to see Victor dabbing at your skin with a napkin, the little motion taking all his concentration until he stepped back with a satisfied glint in his eyes, which seemed to linger around your mouth.

When you were unable to do anything more than flush deeply and try to stammer out a thank you, Jason ended the shot.

The glint in Victor’s eyes didn’t fade, and something within you quivered.

raspberrydream @berryberry

he looks like he wants to eat HER #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

@berryberry I CAN’T BREATHE. I thought he was going to kiss her LOL. And she looked so nervous and then he just wiped her chin THIS IS TOO SOFT I CANT #HopefullyYours

mintmadness @mintsallover

god I wish that were me #HopefullyYours

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only4food @bananabread

Okay I HAVE TO go to this place. I NEED TO EAT EVERYTHING. Who’s in??

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midnightmachine @musiclover

Gordon knows what’s up. We stan a hard-working man. #HopefullyYours

Things continued in much the same direction. With no signs of reluctance, Victor rolled up his sleeves and dived into the bustle of the fair. And with his hand curled around your wrist, you couldn’t bring yourself to doubt him. You’ve learned to read the signs of his displeasure, subtle and obvious, and they were nowhere to be found. He looked relaxed, trying out mini doughnuts, accompanying you to any shops you want to browse, frowning when you looked longingly at the ring toss.

“Let’s go,” he said, guiding you over to the booth. Well, you were supposed to try out the games too, but you hadn’t thought Victor would agree to play them. It seemed a little too childish for him.

“I haven’t come here in years either,” he told you when you looked at him curiously, the two of you standing in line with Homer right next to you. “I love my job, but I admit it takes up most of my time. I rarely have time to indulge like this.” He paused, as if wanting to say more, but his eyes flicked towards Homer and he ended it there.

While a part of you was startled in by his words, another softened at his truthful admission.

Victor seemed to have thought of something else, giving you a meaningful look. “But, of course, I always make time for the people in my life.”

You blinked, a little taken aback by sudden turn in direction.

“Even if they want to come to places like these, I don’t mind.” Victor seemed to be hinting heavily at something, and you smiled at that, almost excessively fond. Because it’s true that Victor makes time for the people in his life, especially his family. And even for you—he’s there for you, no matter how small the matter might be; huffing and puffing and going out of his way to help you.

Falling for someone like that, someone who effuses such stoic confidence and noble compassion in equal measure, it was all too easy.

“Then we’ll make sure to come again,” you told him, a wide grin blooming across your face at the thought. It was unlikely that it would actually happen, but it was nice to think about. You stepped up to the cashier, greeting him politely.

You finally got your turns after fifteen minutes, with Homer and Jason taking a quick snack break while you waited. You’d run a quick eye over the prizes available, quickly drawn to two pusheen cat plushies, a soft grey and a dark ebony. You didn’t think he’d judge you on camera, but would it really be okay to admit that’s what you want? The hair pin would be a more sophisticated pick, something more to his tastes.

Silently despairing over your proclivity for soft cute things, you turned to Victor for his choice.

Only to realize he seemed to have taken his jacket off while you were preoccupied and handed it over to Jason, his thin black t-shirt fitting him like a glove—and your words died a swift death at the back of your throat, shrivelling in the sudden dryness of your mouth. Silhouetted against the light of the late afternoon sun, his features seemed sharper, his gaze keener as he twirled the ring in his hands carefully.

As Homer began to roll the camera, and Victor prepared to toss the ring, you panicked with the realization that he didn’t ask you which prize you wanted like Jason had asked him to.

The ring landed around a bottle with a loud clink, and you hoped the surprise you felt wasn’t clear in your loud cheer. With the look he gave you, you knew he caught it even if others wouldn’t.

And then he handed you the dark pusheen plushy, which you took with trembling fingers and a sheepish smile. “Oh, thank you.” It was exquisitely soft to the touch. “This is the one I wanted.”

“Hm.”

“It looks like you.”

“What-” His head snapped toward you as you laughed, clutching the toy to your chest. Whatever outraged retort he’d been about to spit out was held back as he saw you hugging it contentedly, your eyes twinkling at him. “…I suppose.”

You handed him the toy, rolling your shoulders as you were given the ring. “Which one do you want?”

“I’m fine with anything,” he said, eyes locked on the grey pusheen plushy, the other half of the pair. So it was with a laugh, helpless in the face of his clear yet unspoken demand, that you tossed the ring. You got it on the second try, handing the toy to Victor with a triumphant grin, who took it primly and tucked it into his side.

“Thank you.”

“Isn’t this too childish by your standards?” you teased, unable to help it, but he only smirked down at you, stealing your breath with devastating ease.

“It is. But childish is…nice, sometimes,” he admitted carefully.

Your mind helpfully supplied you with all the instances of him calling you childish. “Oh?”

He shrugged, elegant, one shoulder lifting as he looked back down at the toy, before looking back up at you through dark, half-lidded eyes. “It’s grown on me.”

Kiro ✓ @kiromusic

Wow! This seems like so much fun, I kinda wish I got to go there too! :D @miracley/n invite me next time!! #HopefullyYours

Savin @agents

@kiromusic You just want to eat junk. And...well, I guess we can make an exception for today.

‎

bandanaman @headaccs

Before I proceed to scream over the clip, I just wanted to let y’all know I did some digging and apparently, they are friends! They’ve been spotted together in public many times, including the Loveland Gala last year. You know what this means. #HopefullyYours

bandanaman @headaccs

THE PUSHEEN TOYS. They won each other toys!! Y/n’s right, that does look like him with the dark fur lmao. BUT. Look at Victor’s heart eyes!! And she looked so happy omg T_T

‎

raspberrydream @berryberry

@headaccs NO WONDER. It seems like they already like each other but it seemed too soon!! They’re so cute omg please date!! #HopefullyYours

‎

bandanaman @headaccs

@berryberry With how they look at each other? I smell pining ;) I’ve compiled a list of all their public appearances. He even took her to Souvenir! How are they not dating????

‎

raspberrydream @berryberry

@headaccs DM ME!!!!

‎

srirachafire @hotsauce

@headaccs I feel like that’s a bit of a reach. They certainly seem comfortable with each other, but that could easily just be friendship, which is nice too. I feel like we should allow people to be friends instead of just shipping them.

‎

mintmadness @mintsallover

@hotsauce they’re on a dating show, though.

‎

srirachafire @hotsauce

@mintsallover yeah but plenty of other ‘couples’ were just friends or went on to be good friends. I just think these two are comfortable with each other, which is probably a good thing because Victor doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who can have fun with just anyone, you know?

You ended up having a lot more fun than you thought you would. Victor was always great company, but you could tell he’d tried his best to relax for the show and you didn’t know how to thank him for it. The warm gratitude bubbled up at the base of your throat, your heart sinking deeper into the ocean of affection you already held for him.

He’s so kind. His aloof demeanour, his nagging, his precise instructions and advice were things you’ve come to appreciate. But beyond those lies a heart so caring, so considerate, it made you yearn so deeply, to find yourself a place in it. But Victor had come to treat you as a friend and you could never ruin that because of your own feelings. It was precious, his friendship, and you wanted to treat it as such.

The line you’d drawn with so much care seemed to be straining, however, ever since you found out you would be riding the ferris wheel together, without Homer.

“The people in charge told us if we could just wait until closing time, they could keep things going until we’re done shooting!” Jason had told you as he briefed everyone. A bunch of the crew had left after packing up, as this would be the last take for the day. “That way Homer can fix the lighting and equipment in the cabin and won’t need to join you two! Give you some privacy, yeah?”

‘For what,’ you’d screamed internally, nodding along with a smile on the outside.

Looking to Victor for his opinion had been futile, because he seemed to have withdrawn into his own head, looking up at the ferris wheel absently. You were supposed to shoot the individual parts, but with how late it had gotten, Jason had asked the two of you to drop by the studio the next day. Only, you had a free slot in the morning while Victor would only be able to make it sometime during the late afternoon.

So you wouldn’t get to see what Victor said about you. That was perfectly fine. Things had gone well, and Victor wasn’t the sort to badmouth someone anyway.

It was supposed to be his day off. And he gave it up to participate in a show that was, for all intents and purposes, pointless for him. You felt terrible, heart aching at the thought that once again you had made him waste his time.

How on earth did Jason even get him to agree to this?

“You’re thinking something ridiculous,” came a low voice, and Victor seemed to have come back from his mental journey.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, the guilt getting to you.

“For what?” He seemed genuinely baffled, and it made you feel worse.

“For this entire day. You just came for a visit and now it’s after 8 pm and your day off is gone and you rarely get free time…” your shameful rambling tapered off as the furrow between his brows appeared to grow deeper and deeper.

His response was interrupted by a staff member, who came to let you know the ride was ready for you two. Walking together in complete silence, you wondered what he was about to say.

“Do you regret it?”

You arrived at the ride, and Victor had stopped in front of the open door. “What?”

“Do you regret it?” he repeated patiently, holding his hand out to you. “This entire day. Our date.”

Our date.

It was silly, how him calling it a date, with no cameras in sight, seemed to affect you so deeply. It was ridiculous but it was so real, how your heart fluttered and hope unfurled in the garden where you’ve buried your affection.

“Because I’m not sorry,” he added when you failed to do anything other than flush horribly. There was a question in his gaze, one you didn’t know how to answer, so with a deep breath, you focused on the one he’d asked out loud.

“No,” you said softly, your hand coming to rest over his as he helped you into the cabin. “I don’t regret it.”

How could you, when he was everything you wanted?

You settled on the plastic bench, watching Homer fiddle with the settings and light, making sure the camera’s fixed in place, basking in the heat emanating from Victor.

“Alright, that should work. You guys ready?” he asked.

“Yeah!”

“Yes.”

Homer stepped back to let Jason poke his head through the door. “We’re all set guys. Just call us if there are any problems. Be yourselves, don’t worry about the take. And remember, make sure to make it as romantic as possible!”

As the door closed behind him, with the camera rolling, silence rose to take the place of the sounds now cut off, the rest of the world falling away as the ride began and you began to ascend.

Outside the window, the stars shone in a twinkling blanket across the night sky, and Victor’s arm pressed into yours. Meeting his eyes was difficult, astoundingly so after the entire day you spent together.

This close, it would be so easy to let the words tumble from your lips. You didn’t know what your eyes could give away right now, and you were just as afraid of the softness in his gaze.

It looked too real.

“I’m glad we finally got some peace,” he muttered, and just like that a bright laugh broke out through your fear.

“This was not your kind of place at all, was it?” you said, snickering at the look he threw your way, because it’s so easy to make him huff like that.

“It was…lively,” he said, glaring at you as you stifle your smile behind your hand. “Exactly the kind of place you enjoy.”

“That’s true.”

“Then that’s that.” He shifted a little, trying to face you, his knee knocking into yours. “As long as you had fun, we’ll come again.”

Despite your warnings, your heart skipped a beat.

You tried to laugh it off, changing the subject to your childhoods, swapping lighter stories and carefully avoiding the heartbreaks. Your hands moved somewhere in between, in the dim lights, and your fingers had found each other’s. Make it romantic, Jason had said. That was the only reason. You talked about work, about Miracle Finder, about his public projects, how your busy lives don’t give you the chance to find love.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Victor cut in, still looking at you in that quietly dangerous away, his gaze a heated cloak over your skin.

You stilled. “You wouldn’t?” There was a tremor in your voice, one you hoped went unnoticed.

“I think, regardless of how busy we are, however reluctant…love finds us when it has to,” he said, his voice deep, unwavering, and you forgot how to breathe. Somehow, despite doing your best to avoid it, you had wound up on the proverbial cliff’s edge.

And it was time to take a leap.

“Victor...have you ever been in love?” you asked, part of you ready for his outrage, for him to brush it off with a roll of his eyes, and the other curling up in fear at the thought of the answer he might really give you.

He hummed, tightening his grip on your hand when you tried to tug it back, searching your face. His thumb swept over your knuckles, rubbing gently, and you wondered if he was preparing you for heartbreak.

“Yes. I have.”

Kiki @kikiki

@smilingwillow WHAT THE FUCK

‎

Anna @miracletv

@kikiki Language.

‎

Kiki @kikiki

‎@miracletv did you see the episode?? im going to collapse WHERE IS BOSS @miracley/n

‎

raspberrydream @berryberry

DID HE JUST???? OH MY GOD @headaccs DID YOU SEE THIS? ARE YOU OKAY? #HopefullyYours

‎

bandanaman @headaccs

THIS MAD LAD ACTUALLY DID IT. @berryberry I will never recover from this #HopefullyYours

‎

srirachafire @hotsauce

@headaccs @berryberry He just said he’s been in love before. He didn’t say he’s in love with her lol

‎

raspberrydream @berryberry

@hotsauce what will it take for you to finally see the light

‎

mintmadness @mintsallover

I could listen to this man talk all day. Y/n, you’re one lucky girl <3 #HopefullyYours

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cocoloco @chocolatedelite

I’m late to the party but lmao at everyone freaking out. Uhhh honestly I’m not sure. These things are usually scripted. They could just be faking it. #HopefullyYours

‎

srirachafire @hotsauce

@chocolatedelite Thank you!!!!

‎

victorshoe @mrsli

My heart is broken but their cuteness has mended it. I’ll give them my blessings. #HopefullyYours

‎

bandanaman @headaccs

oh thank god they just uploaded the individual bits!!! THANK YOU @jtv

‎

bandanaman @headaccs

...wait

‎

raspberrydream @berryberry

‎‎omfg

‎

bandanaman @headaccs

????? IS THAT IT??? COME BACK @jtv that can't be it!!

Thank you for reading!

MC/You: it’s a fake date. chill.

Victor: Goldman I need NINE roses and an outfit that makes me look like a sex god I HAVE A DATE

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #mr love queen's choice #mr love li zeyan #mlqc victor x reader #queue are my sunshine

377 notes · View notes

colderthancoldest · 4 years ago

Text

An Easy Alliance

Prompt: "You're here." "I'm here, just like I promised." & "I came back for you. I promised I would, and I did." (This Request)

Ao3 Link

Pairing: Dhawan!Master × Reader

Word Count: about 5k

Summary: It's not easy to be a human with a Tardis. You have a doorway to any where and time in the universe- however, the catch is that the worlds on the other side are often treacherous and it feels like they're against you at every turn. You begin to wonder if it's worth it, if you even deserve this opportunity, when a stranger saves you from it- in more ways than one. Maybe you're worth more than you know.

Various Tags: First meeting, falling in love, fluff and angst, happy ending, my goal is that you will cry but laugh by the end, im ambitious like that, relationship is open to interpretation

Warning: Feelings of Depression, passive suicidal thoughts (It's not that dark, it's actually quite optimistic by the end, but I always add a warning for anyone sensitive to these topics. Please stay safe, thank you.)

Note: Please let me know what you think! I don't often write in this style so I really appreciate feedback! Enjoy :D

---

It's not easy to be a human with a Tardis.

It's a bit of a long story as to how you've obtained a Tardis of your own in the first place.

Essentially you found it, purely by accident. The ship had fled from the Time War and was left to rot when it's pilot was killed. Tardises are known to be temperamental, and humans are notoriously weak telepaths- but neither of you would get anywhere without each other.

In short, you struck up a deal. You take care of the Tardis, learn how to maintain her, and in return- she becomes your door to anywhere and any time in the universe.

It's difficult, seeing as the two of you can't communicate the way telepaths are able to talk to Tardises, but she- the Tardis insisted 'she'- was making do.

She translated the manual for you, provided you with food and clothes and shelter, and was patient as you slowly learned how to fix and fly her.

As if teaching yourself every inch of advanced and sentient technology wasn't difficult enough- you also found yourself deeply out of place in the far away lands the Tardis took you to.

You're human. You're mortal. You look, dress, and act in a way that's out of place in most non-human societies. Even humans from the distant future- as little as a mere few centuries ahead- barely recognize you.

You're clever and fast, but it's not always enough.

It's all too easy to offend people from cultures you've never met. Even if you do nothing wrong, it's your word against theirs.

If you had a nickel for every time you've nearly been killed by a misunderstanding... Suffice it to say, you could easily afford the tungsten wiring your Tardis is always quick-tempered about.

It's in one of these situations that you meet... him.

You're alone, as you always are, with cuffs scratching at your wrists.

The locals of a planet from the future have opted to skip the 'fair trial' bit and head directly to execution.

Of all the ways to go, you can't help but feel a bit... disappointed. A human with a Tardis, a person with a door to anywhere in the known universe, to any time that's ever existed- and this is how it ends.

You suppose you've already gotten more out of life than you could have hoped.

Maybe it's best to quit while you're ahead.

"Really? That's all?" a voice echoes about the large room you're being detained in.

You whip your head about in a feeble and failing attempt to pinpoint the source of the noise. Whoever it is sounds almost amused.

"Someone so quick, someone who's been so careful with the hand they've been dealt, and you're willing to give it all up- here and now?" the strange voice questions.

You spin your head around but there's nothing except shadows. You're set to die at noon and it's barely dawn.

"Who said anything about giving up?" you reply sharply.

You're scared, but that's no reason to show it. You grit your teeth and glare into the darkness around you. You can't pinpoint the figure meandering about in the dark.

"Why? You did, my dear," the voice replies, sounding pleasantly amused.

You squint in a failing attempt to make out the shape stepping into the pale moonlight.

"Me? You don't know a thing about me! I've never met you in my life!" you retort.

And you know this, because you've barely met anyone. You travel to see the sights, not to interfere. You visit worlds to satisfy your curiosity and nothing more. Whoever this is, you've certainly never told them who you are.

The stranger only chuckles faintly.

"I know all about you. A human with a Gallifreyan Tardis? I've been observing you ever since I first detected your ship on Earth.

Then again, it's not your ship- is it?"

Your eyes widen momentarily, but you're quick to force your racing heart back down your throat.

"What I do is none of your business," you defend yourself.

"And what I do is none of yours," the stranger replies in a passive song.

"However," they continue.

They step out from the dark and into the white streaks of moonlight sneaking in from the skylight in the ceiling.

They... look like a human man. A... quite well-kept and well-dressed human man.

A deep purple jacket over an eccentric checkered suit, perfect dark hair that curls at the ends like waves over his face, and dark but shining eyes to match.

You can tell in an instant that you've never met anyone like this before.

"Things have grown dull and you're the first exception to the rule I've seen in a very long time," he says in a tone that suggests this confession is somehow a compliment. "You're never after anything. You only observe."

He tilts his head.

"As much as I dislike humans, somehow- you're different."

He paces about you until you can't see him anymore because of the way the cuffs keep you pinned to the chair in the middle of the room.

You lose sight of him for a brief second.

You fear the worst but then...

The cuffs fall with a clink and your hands are suddenly free.

"For you and only you," he says as he paces back into your field of vision, "I propose an alliance."

"An alliance?" you echo flatly. It's a question, to get him to elaborate, but also a surprise.

All your time traveling, and no one's ever offered you such a thing before.

"Yes, dear," he says in a way that you would assume was patronizing if not for the polite tone of his voice, "an alliance. Your human mind is so loud, I've heard you wondering to yourself how to communicate with your ship, how to repair her, how to fly her. I can be beneficial in that field."

He sounds proud of himself.

You don't cave quickly. You aren't that naive.

You haven't made it through countless adventures- your feet pounding over the surfaces of countless planets, escaping all sorts of dangers- without being careful.

"And in return?" you ask cautiously. There has to be a catch somewhere.

"In return, you help me," he says warmly.

He looks you over with an amused smirk at his lips.

"You see, I have big plans for a certain enemy of mine. However, I don't have time to deal with the day-to-day nonsense of Earth. You help me with the little things and in return, whenever you need saving, I promise to be there."

He taps his chest with a prideful grin.

"I swear on my hearts."

You brush past him as you make your way for the door. You'd better get going before the guards return for your scheduled execution.

The sun is coming up, dying the sky a beautiful purple haze.

"You think that's something you can promise? All of time and space, and you expect me to believe that?" you scoff at his words, "You'll abandon me the moment it's convenient. No deal," you tell him.

He slips past you and reaches an arm across the doorframe to block your path. You cross your arms and glare at him.

To your surprise, he looks angry.

"I'll have you know I take great offence to that! I make good on my promises- unlike some people," he grumbles that last part to himself.

"If I say I won't abandon you, I won't abandon you. If I say I'll be back, I'll come back," he says sharply as he stares you down.

There's something in the way he locks his jaw, something in the way he takes offense to your distrust, something about the way he scrunches his nose and his brows- that make you realize he's telling the truth.

"I keep my word," he insists gravely. "Which is something- you'll find in this universe- not many people do. This arrangement is mutually beneficial. You won't be offered a better deal than this."

You exchange a glare with him for a long moment.

His gentle features are twisted up in anger, his eyes betray and old pain that you've dug up by offending him, his hand remains locked on the doorframe to block your path- and, for some reason, it makes you smile.

You huff a small breath.

"You haven't done this whole 'alliance proposition' thing before, have you?" you ask him.

He falters.

"I haven't had any need for it before," he reasons. "However, I'm currently on a bit of a schedule. I have a lot of dominos to set up before my best enemy arrives to topple them," he admits. His expression softens at the mention of this 'best enemy'.

You pat his shoulder and then pry his hand from the doorframe to pass him by.

He caves easily and follows you outside.

The dawn is breaking and you still need to get back to your ship.

"Alright," you decide with a small sigh.

You do need help with your Tardis and- more than anything- you certainly need someone to watch your back.

It's not every day some well dressed stranger saves you from your own curiosity. You feel obligated to return the favor- seeing as he did just save your life- so you decide you might as well make the most of it.

"What do you need me to do?" you ask, hopefully and yet still bracing for the worst.

Your newest ally grins.

He mostly wants information about Earth. He doesn't tell you why- and you don't ask.

It doesn't matter all that much to you anyway. With your Tardis, you've watched whole apocalypses pass you by. You've grown numb to it. In the end, it's always just a different verse of the same old worn-out song.

You're tired and nothing holds your interest for long anymore. Whatever he's planning, you doubt it'll have any effect on you. You might as well keep up your end of the deal.

Once you gather everything on the requested topic, he asks for information on a new one. He wants to know about Cybermen next. He wants to know about The Great Cyberwars- but only odd specifics from near the end that were left undocumented.

You begin to get the feeling that he needs to research their timeline for some reason, but he has an odd fear of them simultaneously. He doesn't want to get too close to the subject.

Again, you don't ask what it's for- and in return: you get more than you gave.

Your latest ally- he has yet to give you his name- plays translator for your Tardis. He explains bits of the manual you were stuck on and how the Tardis functions as a unit.

He's polite and- once you get past his gallows humor- he can be quite funny.

He explains how certain pieces of the Tardis controls have to be flipped in unison because Tardises are meant to have multiple pilots.

He's odd, he's blunt, and strangest of all: he's a very good cook.

He's the kind of person who always has a secret up their sleeve and he surprises you in all the best ways.

You... begin not to mind his company.

He always seems to know what you're about to say before you say it. You blame that part on his psychic abilities.

However, it's almost nice to be understood in that way. In an abstract, personal, understanding way you've never known before.

In response, he gauges that your words and actions are genuine. His ability to sense your unfiltered thoughts let him know that it's safe to open up to you in return, little by little.

Without even realizing the gradual change- he's suddenly a friend.

Now when you go out on adventures, when you're a lone mortal facing down the strange and terrifying perils of the universe, you're drastically less afraid.

Instead of passing through with your head down, you're able to stare up at the stars and admire then. You can safely look forwards rather than watching over your shoulder.

You're living instead of surviving.

It happened so gradually, you'd barely even noticed.

One day your Tardis lands in a heavily guarded patch of sacred land. It looks like the hillside near a heavily fortified church.

You're not fast enough to explain why you're there, and even if you were- the local authority won't let you. They're very strict people with very black and white thinking.

You're tied to a chair and tossed in the back corner of the guard outpost. So few people get this far past their defenses that the locals don't even have a proper prison to toss you in.

It's a long day indeed, awaiting whatever fate they have planned for you.

You're stuck in the box, alone, tied up in the dull silence. It's... annoying. Instead of wondering if perhaps you deserve it, you decide to escape.

At some point, the guard leaves you alone. You kick the chair around and reach for the scissors on the guard's desk with your hand pinned tight to the metal frame of the chair with rope.

You don't have a chance of escaping, the physics simply aren't there. And even if you get untied, you'll never make it far alive. Still, that doesn't mean you're not going to try. You're not going to let the universe- nor your own apathy and fear- get the best of you this time.

A different guard returns all too quickly. They're draped in the huge robes that the people who occupy this 'holy' land always wear. Of all the possible places to visit, you not only landed in the most heavily fortified part but also the most boring. It was basically just a monastery with a military guarding it.

You're not sure how you're going to reason yourself out of the fact that it very clearly looks like you're trying to escape.

You sharply kick at the guard's knee. It's all you can do. You're not sure if you can take them down, but it's worth a shot-

"Bloody- F- Gah- Do you mind?!"

You recoil visibly at the familiar voice.

"You?" You ask sharply.

The faux-guard pulls their hood down to reveal a familiar face. He looks quite annoyed.

"Actually, my acquaintances call me, O- but yes. It's me.

We made an agreement after all!" he hisses as if this all should be obvious to you.

"You're here," you observe, still quite shocked by the reveal.

He only rolls his eyes.

"Yes. I'm here, just like I promised. Do you really think so little of me?

I told you. When you need saving, I'll be there.

I keep my promises."

Without bothering to ask, he takes a seat on your lap. He sits sideways so the pressure doesn't pinch your thighs- which, all things considered- is quite polite of him.

He reaches down to his injured leg and rubs it with his hand for a moment. He appears to have a previous injury in that leg, and you very clearly haven't helped matters. Either way, once he's chalked up your assault to some bruising, he brushes the injury off.

"No, I'm just surprised," you tell him.

"You didn't think I would save you?" he asks, a little disappointed.

You press your lips together in a neutral expression. Whatever you think of saying, he already knows every word of it.

"I couldn't bet my life on it," you say simply.

He pulls a knife from his pocket and reaches around you to to saw through the tough rope.

"You tried to escape this time," he observes aloud.

You bite your tongue.

Yes, you did- didn't you?

It's interesting, the things you've begun to do ever since you gained someone to share your travels with. Someone who knows what it's like to do all of this. Someone who... knows what it's like to spend it alone, spending every day wondering if you're worth it.

He must hear your thoughts, as per usual, because he can't look you in the eye. He soon stands up again and leads you out.

He doesn't say another word as you return to your separate Tardises and leave.

Things get better from there and soon it's a pattern.

You have fun, on your own. You see the sights, you walk the streets, you eat the food. It's quiet, but it's nice not to have anyone else with you to color the world in any other way than it already is.

It's you and the world.

You and your flirts with danger.

You and narrowly escaping the authorities.

You and wondering directly into the jaws of the latest beast- only to be met with the familiar eyes of someone who is no longer a stranger.

"Again?" he asks.

Sometimes he plays dress up, sometimes he simply hypnoses the guards to let him through, but no matter the situation he's always dramatic about it.

Seeing him always brings a smile to your face. It's rare, but it's always familiar. Being 'saved' becomes more of an excuse than a necessity.

There's a learning curve to traveling the universe and before long, you've reached it's peak. You learn what to do, what to say, how to keep yourself safe.

You don't need him anymore, but you're more than willing to let him drop in to 'save' you anytime. It becomes a comfort, to know that even when you mess up, you're worth saving.

Sometimes you're in the middle of taunting a guard who hasn't even arrested you yet and when he shows up to hypnotize the problem away.

And sometimes, he suggests that he'd better stick around for a bit to make sure you stay safe.

And sometimes you recommend the pair of you get food together, and sometimes that meal turns into a walk through the park, and sometimes that walk turns into laying in fields of grass, staring up at the stars, exchanging ideas about the possibilities of this big old universe you find yourselves in.

And sometimes you wonder why this person, who's so kindhearted and protective, so warm and good-humored, keeps you at arms length.

There's something more about him, you suspect. There has to be.

You're willing to bet anything that it's something dark- but he never shows it.

He's different when it comes to you. You're not certain why.

Is it because you can't lie to him? Is it because you're honest with him? Is it because you don't ask, you don't press, you just let him be at your side whenever he chooses?

It hits you all at once one day that perhaps this arrangement has become more.

It stays true to its core, to be mutually beneficial and serve in favor both parties personal interests, but that's not all it is anymore.

Without realizing, it's suddenly two parties who mean a great deal to each other. Suddenly, you're choosing to help each other rather than acting in order to receive something in return.

You're not scared of danger anymore. You know how to get out of it now- and even if you can't, you know he'll be there.

You trust that he'll be there.

He's no longer contingency, he's normalcy.

You're never traveling alone because he's always there, in the back of your mind, as you wonder if he might join you should the opportunity arise.

Maybe you should voice this next time you see him.

When you run into him, you're offering information- per another strangely specific request- that you obtained from a library in the distant future that your ally may or may not be banned from.

You consider asking why he can't fetch it himself, but you don't. He either offers information or not. One of the rules is that neither of you ask about the others' personal business.

When you arrive at your typical meeting place, his own Tardis is a mess.

It looks... like a cluttered house inside.

The way it's decorated feels very unlike someone like him.

He immediately hugs you as you enter. That's how you know something's wrong.

You catch him rather than hug him. You suddenly feel too sick to remember any of the things you had wanted to tell him.

"What's wrong?" is all you ask softly.

He crumbles.

He remains as elegant and unyielding as always, but it's easy to feel that he's trembling. His breathing shakes and his fingers lock into the fabric of your coat.

It feels like a long time, ages, until he gets out a small sentence.

"I... have to go away for a while."

You're scared to know what that means.

"How long?" You ask tearfully.

"It depends," he breathes quietly.

"On what?"

"If my plan works."

There's a long silence as his words hang heavy in the air.

You don't know what to say.

The rule is that neither of you ask about the others' personal business.

You want to honor that rule but... the way he's acting... it scares you.

He clings to you, his fingers clawing desperately at your sleeves as he hangs his head down low, but he doesn't know what to say either.

Eventually... he decides on a sentence.

"Do you remember... when we first met?" he asks quietly.

You nod.

"How could I forget?" you chuckle warmly in a weak attempt to lighten the mood.

He smiles for a split second. It comes and goes in the blink of an eye. He shakes his head and his expression grows darker as if he's scolding himself for something.

He lets go of your clothes and turns away.

"You didn't bother trying to escape on your own. The whole universe at your fingertips and... you didn't know what to do with it.

I could hear your mind- I always can- and that day you... were about to give up fighting."

You look off to the side and let your eyes fall to the floor.

It's true. The whole universe ahead of you and you were nearly too tired to keep living in it.

You don't believe you deserved to find the Tardis anyways.

Who were you to have a doorway to the universe? Who were you to intrude where you didn't belong? You never belong anywhere anyways. That was why you left Earth in the first place.

There was never anywhere you fit. The only way you can justify your existence is by being useful, to the Tardis, and then to your new friend.

On your own... you're no one. Sometimes you wonder why you bother at all.

"What about it?" you ask coldly as you cross your arms.

You don't want to think about that anymore.

The two of you.... Helping each other gives you purpose. It gives you something to keep busy with.

You still felt the way you felt before you knew him sometimes, but you're improving. That has to be worth something.

He looks sad and broken.

You suddenly remember that he can hear every abstract hint of emotion racing through your mind.

"I feel that way too," he confesses.

His words hurt to hear.

He slowly wonders off through the room. There he goes. Keeping you at arms length again.

"It's been fun... but it isn't sustainable. My lifespan is far longer than yours. It's not worth... us hurting each other over something that can't last."

He shakes his head.

"All this time," he begins, "I've been working towards an end. I'm going to make a stand with my best enemy. I'm going to tell her everything I've learned.

I'm going to make it so that she doesn't have another choice.

I'm going to end something that should have never existed. For good."

He sounds determined all of a sudden. His last mission.

He turns to you abruptly.

"I'm telling you this because I won't be able to help you anymore," he says steadily.

You blink at the tears in your eyes.

Oh.

So...

That's what he means.

"I... understand," is all you can say.

There's a long moment of silence and then-

You rush over to hug him. He lifts you up until your toes can barely reach the ground. He holds you tight against him and spins you about as your tears splash onto the shoulder of his coat.

You want to beg him not to go, but you know he's been preparing for this. He's clearly made up his mind. There's nothing you can do to stop him.

And anyways.

He already knows what you're thinking.

"It'll be okay," he promises.

You want to believe him.

You can't.

It's quiet now.

Something about it all makes everything else feel quieter.

Everything feels... perhaps distant is the word you're actually looking for.

And you feel tired again. No, apathetic is what you're looking for. As if you can't bring yourself to care about the real world anymore.

You feel like you're back where you started.

You don't know what to do.

You have more than you deserve. You're smarter than you know what to do with. You're more than ever before and yet as powerless as always.

Or...

Maybe not.

You know more now. You can do more now.

You know what you're capable of when you aren't afraid and- as terrified as you are right now- you know what the right thing to do is.

It's time to put everything you've learned to good use. He’s saved your life after all- in far more ways than one. It’s time you return the favor.

"Doctor!" the Master shouts as the Doctor abandons him for the latest of countless times.

Why is he surprised anymore?

He should know by now that she always finds a loophole in his foolproof plans. That she always runs from danger. That she always leaves him in the end.

Now some idiot no-one cyberman-resistance soldier has pressed a button to detonate a planet-destroying bomb.

He'll be dead in seconds. Shattered into atoms and quirks and nothingness.

For as much as the Doctor leaves him, the Master simply can't bring himself to leave her. He can't stop chasing her.

Quite soon, he won't have a choice.

This is it. This is what finally pushes him over the edge.

If the Doctor can leave him for dead like this then... she isn't the person he thought she was anymore. He'll finally learn better. He'll finally give up on her.

It was a shame it was too late.

The particle is active.

He runs but... he isn't going to reach his Tardis in time.

He's alone.

And then suddenly he's not.

Suddenly he isn't in the crumbling Matrix room anymore. He isn't on Gallifrey at all.

He's standing, safe and sound, being held tight in someone's arms.

He comes to his senses slowly. The seconds don't feel real as they pass. He looks up to see that he's in your Tardis, in your arms, looking up at your face.

"You..." he breathes. He can barely feel reality around him.

"It just took a bit of fancy flying to swoop in, just a second in time, and save you," you smile at him.

He stares in disbelief.

"You came back for me," he says breathlessly.

"Of course I came back for you!" you chuckle. "It's like you're always saying. I promised I would, and I did."

"Saving you is my job!" he replies, still in shock.

"I had to return the favor sometime," you smile.

His face is still locked in an expression of disbelief. He's still processing this.

You decide to make it easier on him.

"How about this:" you suggest with a heavy heart, "we go back to saving each other. To adventures and pastimes and pretending this is nothing more than a profession partnership.

Most importantly, we both take it one day at a time.

And down the road, when we're done, once we've had all our fun, then we'll find out a way to go out in style.

Together."

He contemplates this for a moment.

"You won't be offered a better deal than this," you smirk. "You'd be smart to take it."

He shakes his head.

"No," he says firmly.

Your eyes widen.

"No?" You ask nervously.

The Master takes your hands in his own and laces your fingers together. He moves closer, his face inches from yours.

"No," he repeats. "I don't want to go back to how things were. I want a proper partnership.

You and me and the universe.

I don't know how I didn't see it before."

You laugh warmly as he presses his forehead to yours.

"I'll do it right this time," he promises. "I took care of what I needed to. No one will ever bother us now.

We can..."

His eyes darted about as he searched for the right words.

He held your hands tighter in his own.

"We can go back to saving each other- the universe be damned.

Every day.

For as long as you want," he promises wholeheartedly.

"Whenever you need saving, I'll be there."

Your heart is racing.

It's all you could ever want and more.

He is all you could ever want and more.

You don't need to agree out loud. He already knows. You voice it anyway.

"Okay," you grin.

In a strange way, you understand now.

You understand why he saved you.

You learned how to fly this Tardis. You learned how to save your friend from the clutches of death.

You are worth the life you've made for yourself and more.

You deserve to be happy- and you plan to be.

You don't know why you ever believed you didn't.

You have a doorway to anywhere. You have a hand to hold. You have a partner who would burn down every planet in the sky for you.

It's time to go out there and get in trouble and make mistakes. To fight the same old fight against every new day and always emerge triumphant.

And your partner is working on a new project. Something to do with regenerative healing using research he stole from the shambles of his old home.

With any luck, maybe the two of you can travel the universe forever.

#Thank you for reading!#please let me know what you think!#im always a bit unsure what people will think when I do characterxreader fics #but i think it turned out okay :)#dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #doctor who fic #doctor who fanfic #long post #doctor who #dw

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 5 years ago

Text

The Whore || John Shelby x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested: “11&19 with John boy? cause I miss him “ (I miss him too, my poor heart aches)

Summary: n.11 & 19 from prompt list: “Please, please, please” + “I’ll burn this fucking place down” Warnings: swearing, a lot of angst, prostitution, nudity, violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of rape, misogynistic talk, graphic description of signs of physical abuse

Author’s notes:

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

So, this request’s been in my mind for ages, and even though I’m not happy with its final part ‘cause it sucks, I’m literally obsessed with this idea, I love it so much that I’ll probably write a long fic about it, right after Contagio, but it will depend on you babes, because, first and froemost, I need to know what you think about this piece. ⤟ IMPORTANT

Please, if you’re a victim of any kind of abuse, talk to someone who can help you, nobody should go through something like that alone.⤟ IMPORTANT

I edited the gif and added the text, it’s not an actual scene from the show, but I thought it could be a good idea, a small detail that could be added to my works. What do you think about it? Pls, let me hear your opinions babeees ⤟

I’m sorry for being this late, but I’ve been really busy in the past days and writing is never just easy, it demands concentration and effort, plus I don’t want you to be disappointed, so I’m always extra accurate while working. I hope this is worth the wait!

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Birmingham was somehow silent that night, John noticed the unusually empty streets around him, as his feisty pace easily led him towards a well-known destination, his confident steps resounding in between the damp walls of those sordid blocks made of innumerable overcrowded flats. The unmistakable stench of stagnant urine viciously permeated his nostrils, soon causing a disgusted expression to taint his angelic face, while he avidly took the umpteenth drag of smoke from his Cuban cigar and finally stopped his unceasing walk in front of the most renowned brothel in the entire city. For about three years by then, day after day, his life had been perilously circling the drain: things had got totally out of hand, fate had pitilessly thrown him into profound despair, giving life to an apparently endless spiral of darkness and desolation, which was gradually corroding his fragile self, brutally strangling him, rapaciously plundering each of his already strained vital breaths. And, nevertheless, it was beyond hard to blame him for such catastrophic outcomes, after all, he’d scarcely survived the battlefield, only to find himself with a handful of nothing, left alone to deal with a dead wife and four children to raise on his own, while his guts crawled with excruciating grief and ravenous acrimony for the whole world, having him develop a tendency to self-destruction that was just as concerning as it was well concealed. As a matter of fact, in spite of his private hell, he still remained a Shelby, and a Shelby wasn’t meant to be soft, nor weak, none of them could afford to succumb to their affliction, never, not for a moment. They had to be invulnerable.

Or, at least, they had to look invulnerable, for truth was that John was scared, utterly frightened by all those unmerciful changes. Deep inside he felt like a hopeless, undefended child, forsaken by God and discarded to wander that grim world without any destination other than death and misery, thus his blood boiled with virulence and venom, having his heart clench with blind wrath and his devastated young soul desperately long for sort of any distorted kind of unattached affection. That was basically the main reason why his bed was incessantly warm, or more accurately, warmer than it had always been before, because, needless to say, John Shelby had actually been an authentic ladies’ man since his first cry. His stunning beauty constantly teemed on everyone’s lips in Birmingham, there was not a single woman in the whole town who hadn’t dreamt of sleeping with him at least once in her life. Therefore, John was more than happy to please them all, literally, welcoming them with wide open arms, even during his past marriage; and, on those rare times when no girl went to knock on his door, he had now grown accustomed to seek relief into whorehouses, rather than sleep alone and become an easy prey for his ferocious demons.

So he eventually ended up dropping his smouldering cigar on the uneven asphalt of the most rundown place in Small Heath, “Le Belle Donne”, an Italian house of tolerance, quite dilapidated and about to fall to pieces, but which often happened to have his favourite prostitutes. Indeed, ever since the Peaky Blinders had defeated and subjugated Sabini’s clan, they’d occupied a prominent position among the country, to the point that several other Italian gangs on their territory, including the Changrettas who owned that brothel in particular, had finally given in to the Shelbys. As a direct consequence, to put it simply, John and all his brothers had, in a very real sense, earned the full right to abuse of whatever business the wops held.

“Hey, man!” Johnny resonantly barked as he entered the hall, maintaining a pretty intimidating attitude and a menacing look on purpose, in order to strike even greater fear in his newest flunky. “C’mon, show me what you got” That rough order cunningly glided onto his lower lip, immediately followed by his hot tongue, while his famished gaze travelled around the room, examining the face of each harlot standing there with meticulous attention, without however finding something that could come anywhere close to seriously rapture him. Robert Turrini, the whoremaster, was a bizarre bloke, for his physical appearance could be probably described as both disturbing and amusing: his revortingly corpulent stomach wobbled and his short legs dangerously stumbled, when he made haste to stand up and accommodate his toughest client. “Mr. Shelby, what an honour and a pleasure to have you back!” Those sycophant words fled his moist and malodorous mouth, and nonetheless, his stubby fingers inexorably betrayed his true thoughts, since they were either nervously torturing each other or, as only alternative, convulsively running through his greasy, mangy bangs. “Please, sir, follow me, these are for yokels and boozers, nothing to do with gentlemen like yourself” Once again, Turrini’s shrill fawning tone relentlessly grated his ears, making clear reference to the bunch of second-rate whores who could be found at the entrance; thus the lame pimp quickly moved, his hand anxiously beckoning John to tread upon his heels, then headed towards an eerily narrow corridor, so scanty that it was almost impossible to cross, if not walking on the bias. The secret lounge was illuminated only in part by a squalid red light creating a gruesome atmosphere, a dull silence tyrannically reigned into that small space, although you were not alone, but practically glued to another girl; both sitting on a minuscle sofa, your elbows touching, still none of you dared emit a single sound. Everything felt like lead upon your papier-mâché ribcage, that horrible sensation forcing your traumatized brain to involuntarily keep counting the seconds until that heinous burden would’ve potentially staved in your sternum, definitively annihilating your splintered heart. As a result, when the ramshackle door opened and a high-pitched squeak scraped your skin, you really thought to be about to die. Your torturer made his entrance, and right after him, another man came in, yet you couldn’t spot his face, since the peak of his cap designedly casted a mysterious shadow on it. “These two right here, they're real young, real fresh” Robert flaunted his goods along with a nefarious grin, rubbing his soiled paws with evident greed. “Behold the finest offering of flesh and bone on the market” A sadistic snicker repugnantly accompanied his speech, instantly causing John to frown, visibly disgruntled with the way that man deliberately talked about human beings. Luckily, it was a known fact that the middle Shelby was used to treating his women with all due respect: whether he paid them or not, he always made sure they were comfortable with him and never shrank from giving them some good time as well; therefore, a vexed glare was shot in the direction of his gross interlocutor, before his crystalline eyes briefly fluttered around the place, then bumping into your elegant figure almost at once.

Your bloodstream seemed to benumb on the spot as the stranger’s confident stare entangled yours, his rawboned features being now fully displayed, for he had lifted his chin a little in order to properly look at you, and you only, despite Clarissa’s desperate and petulant attempts to get his attention with malicious smiles and ridiculous pet names. Even though your dazed mind had just been ruthlessly brutalized by the sudden, ablaze assault of his glacial irises, a few moments were enough for you to realize how profoundly different he was from all the low-down rats who usually came through that horrible place.

Each sharp, still somehow delicate, trait of his face was brimming with delicious youthfulness, a less keen eye might have even confounded his freshness with actual naivety, but not yours; you were far too clever to make such a coarse mistake. Furthermore, the midnight-blue posh fabric of the classy suit, remarkably folding his majestic body, left gaunt doubt that he was, in all likelihood, a considerably rich man, which was beyond disorientating you, since the price to pay for some tawdry delight in that brothel was outrageously derisory, to say the least. And ultimately, as much as it killed you to conceive it, he was without question one of the most enchanting men you had ever seen, to the point that you found yourself subconsciously wondering the possible reason why a heavenly creature of his kind would’ve needed to buy a miserable hour of dissembled love.

“There she is” That malleable murmur, filled with longing and gratification, furtively sidled past John’s roseate mouth, as its corners seductively bent upwards and his gaze persevered in its praiseworthy commitment to scrupulously linger your finest shape in sheer adoration. Lace and organdy sublimely merged on the light crimson negligee you were wearing, your immaculate form appeared as a beguiling paradox into his dilated pupils, being your long legs lecherously left exposed, while every inch of your porcelain skin, from your lean neck to your groin, was painstakingly disguised by that unholy material, dark and inscrutable, albeit thin enough to allow him to glimpse the inviting turgidity of your nipples. His breath shuddered in awe when he went back to contemplate your aphrodisiac facial features, flushed cheeks and plump lips having him ache with desire, and then your doe eyes flooded by melancholy, strangling his soul with no mercy, entrenching into his brains the treacherous conviction that, at the end of the day, he would’ve gladly dilapidated his fortune, if only to venerate you from afar. “Oi, sweetheart!” His low voice finally rumbled within the walls of that small space, overwhelmingly vibrating into your abdomen, while you forced yourself to swallow the painful lump obstructing your throat and stand up, promptly responding to his command, aware as you had become that rebelling against your pitiable destiny would’ve served no purpose at all. Holding your client’s hand behind your back, but keeping your head down during the whole route, you silently guided him up the spiral staircase to the best room in the house, like you had previously been instructed by your pimp. His jacket and hat were quickly hung on the apposite coat-rack, leaving his muscular top covered with just his white shirt and blue vest, an alluring grin was flashed in your direction and you detected a libidinous sparkle in his irises, as he healed the rift between you at a slow pace. “What should I call you, sweetheart?” He knowingly used the same flattering pet name once more, whispering that barely audible question into your ear, for he was now behind you: his large hands laid around your waist, gently making your back and his vigorous chest fit together, while his skilled mouth brushed forthwith against your nape, drawing an ardent contrail of ephemeral pecks up until your jaw. “Just y/n” You gasped in response, the marked contrast between his warmth and your bitter cold body, along with crippling dread eating you alive, caused your scrambled stomach to squirm and your eyelids to distressingly shut into a frown. “Well, that’s a pretty good one, I’m John, by the way” A lovely, yet hinted giggle fleetingly filled your ears together with that little compliment; there was no record of mockery in his tone, though, it simply sounded like he wanted to be nice to you, without any aspiration of personal gain, and you almost blushed, caught off guard and no longer used to any form of kindness. Nevertheless, it was a matter of instants before another wet, long kiss was pressed on your jawline, making you startle with evident apprehension and, at a later time, definitively back away from him, as soon as you sensed his touch abandoning your hips only to climb your sides, till he reached for your nightgown’s collar and his fingers began to fiddle with its round buttons. “No, I’ll do it!” You curtly gave notice, as you temporarily lost control of both your speech and actions, placing your hands above his in order to shrug them off, then turning to face him with short breath, your open palms shielding you. “I got it” A noticeably softer voice supplanted your preceding rudeness once you gradually metabolised how much damage your incautious reaction could’ve done.

“Aye, aye, darling, as you wish” But John just chuckled, tenderly humouring you, while his forearms jokingly lift in surrender to your commands, although, truth be told, your strange behaviour had left him a bit bewildered, well-nigh confused. Carefully moving backwards, he cockily made himself comfortable on the edge of the double bed, sitting right in front of you with splayed legs, his yearning stare never deflecting from you, and started to unbutton his waistcoat along with his shirt and undershirt, until his statuesque torso was completely nude, in all its glory, as the moon transpired through the curtains and shed its faint rays on his every contour, superbly enhancing all of his muscles.

Without reprieve, he ogled up at you in pure adoration, devastatingly astonished afresh by your dazzling beauty, eager to feel your afire flesh around his, literally hanging on your every word or move, while a provocative smirk steadily rippled his lips. Still, he kept questioning why a seraphic vision like you was slowly withering away in that authentic hell on heart, adamantly squandering your blush of youth amidst that rabble of unrestrained putridity. It made absolutely no sense, and he couldn’t get rid of that pernicious thought haunting his mind ever since he had first seen you: you looked nervous, extremely defensive, almost paralyzed with fear; you seemed so different from all the whores he’d had before, hence his instincts, however obfuscated with cupidity, were screaming that something was wrong. And when he watched you turn your back on him again, so to avoid his penetrating gaze as you reluctantly got undressed, it was enough for him to understand that his execrable hunch was right. Nevertheless, by the time his head managed to eventually reconnect to his mouth, it was already too late, the soft textile of your nightdress ineluctably fell to your feet, leaving you naked under his starving leer.

John choked on his own breath; for the very first time, he felt like a fledgling kid at his earliest experience, no matter if nothing could be further form the truth, in some turbid, cryptic way, you were able to make him vulnerable. His craw went hellishly dry while he continued to gape at you in awe, the sinuous curves of your flawless glutes, the meandering line of your superlatively arched back covered in part by your soft hair, your tensed shoulders and your refined legs, everything about you caused his mind to go entirely black, words stifling in his throat. Yet, as soon as you moved to face him and his sight was blessed with the full view of your voluptuous figure, something altered the light in his cerulean eyes, suddenly making it dark and gloomy. His jaw slightly dropped under the weight of that violent dismay: in conjunction, an obnoxious sense of nausea cruelly shot him in the gut and blind anger virulently assailed him, for your front bust was completely martyrized.

“What the hell...” That unmeant babble died in the gelid air, his shocked orbs demarcating the strokes of your damaged silhouette: your neck and collarbone were horridly plastered with several violet fingerprints, as if someone had mercilessly strangled you over and over, greenish bruises with the shape of full palms circled both your arms, there were conspicuous signs of ligature around your tiny wrists. Worse still, his eyelids had to squeeze a little in order to bring into focus the multiple oxblood dots stigmatizing your soft breasts, until he noticed in horror how those round specks were effectively cigarettes burns; all of the oxygen bluntly withdrew from his lungs, when he dwelled on the multiple blue and black marks barbarically desecrating the protuberances of your ribs. But what irremediably drove him over the edge were the two ghastly scars digging stretched grooves in your lower stomach, in parallel with your bulging pelvic bones and down almost to your livid groin.

Prey of that deleterious humiliation, you observed raw disgust contaminating his features and, with no apparent reason, the dormant hatred you had for yourself began to ferment inside your belly. “I-I’m sorry” you forced yourself to swallow your imminent tears, unexpectedly, the awareness of not being able to please him somehow inflicted more suffering on your mangled soul “If I’m not to your taste, y-you can...” The young man quickly stood up and, before you had the chance to finish your nonsensical sentence, he readily grabbed his shirt, approaching you with dispatch, his cold irises burning with an implausible mixture of fury and concern. “I don’t fucking care right now” His voice was unsteady, rolling down his tongue in fatigued panting, as his hands hastened to wrap his shirt around your shoulders, his trembling fingers struggling to put the buttons through the eyelets “Who did this to you?” In truth, he was talking to himself rather than with you, noticeable impatience worsening his mad tone, yet you persistently steered clear of his inquiring look, more than determined to keep your mouth shut, forasmuch as your dizzy head was already helplessly spinning, along with your heart rabidly hammering against your sore ribcage. You were having a hard time figuring out what was going on, everything around you was so confused, you didn’t even know whether to trust him or not, you only wanted to close your eyes and forget about that lucid nightmare. “I’m not asking you, for fuck’s sake! Tell me who it was!” That searing order tersely brought you back to reality and cleared how easily his rash temper could reemerge; indeed, all of a sudden, no trace was left of that kind, cheerful boy who earlier that night had succeeded in making you genuinely blush, on the contrary, when he cupped your cheeks and vehemently shook you, in a desperate effort to get your attention, his rough, authoritative command unbendingly hit you, and the sweet child within him ended up being thoroughly smothered by the scary, ruthless gangster that he truly was. That unforeseen contact had your feet automatically stagger backwards, your eyes fell to your tiptoes and your teeth started skewering your lower lip, while your exhausted brain resorted to its last ounce of strength, thereby obligating you to spit out a bit of your sorrow. “Three months ago, the man I once called father sold me to settle one of his debts with the Italians” Your thorax seemed to shrink to the point of absurdity once you became aware that it was essentially the first time you allowed yourself to say it all out loud. However, the presence of that compassionate stranger still represented for you a substantial barrier to surmount, leading your unquiet glance to franticly move from the grime on the floor, to the broken window on your left, anywhere, but never daring to meet his. “ I tried to run away, I swear I did, but they always caught me and-”

A large knot callously plugged the bottom of your palate, causing you to hesitate for a minute, gently rubbing your own arms, in attempt to comfort yourself . “Robert has a short fuse, he g-gets pretty brutal when you don’t cooperate” Those disenchanted considerations carried an involuntary grin, it was nothing more than a spasm, but hid the unmistakable sign of an imminent cry, and John’s attentive irises certainly did not let it go unnoticed, yet he chose to stay quiet, because the last thing he would’ve wanted in that crucial moment was to scare you even more. “He beat me to death, each time harder than the time before, and then he let those men-... He-e kept me tied to that bed for days to teach me a lesson” Copious tears were now unremittingly streaming down your flushed face, your heart aching with raw affliction, preventing you from breathing properly, one of your palms instinctively went to cover the space between your breasts, in a vain whirl to ease that excruciating grief. “Oh, God” John simply sighed, he was precariously theetering on the verge of tears as well, thick veins untamedly pumped in the proximity of his temples, till his solid shape ruinously keeled over the longest side of the bed, his elbows piercing his own thighs, as he hid behind his clenched fists and finally permitted himself to indulge a couple of muffled sobs. Innumerable atrocities had clouded his eyes and soul during his brief life, he himself was capable of unspeakable acts of cruelty, still, that was absolutely intolerable, hearing your story was taking a terrible toll on him. Try as he might, he couldn’t conceive how somebody could have been so hopelessly evil, to abuse in such a heinous way a defenseless creature as pure as you were. That thought was irretrievably disturbing him, rancorously eroding his bowels, almost depriving him of his sanity.

“U-until I stopped fighting them” Your last, indescribably anguished whisper struck the fatal blow, it unrelentingly plunged into his chest, sending an unbearable jolt of pain through his poisoned veins. For a brief instant, his expression, together with yours, harshly turned into a mask made of neat despair, as if your synapsis had been ravelled and both of you were enduring the exact same ache, at the exact same moment.

“I’ll fucking kill him!” Then, all at once, something apopletic inside him violently detonated, he berserkly stood up, roughly tripping over the beside table and everything placed on it. “Fucking kill that filthy bastard with my own two hands, bloody hell!” His hoarse yells made your bruised skin cringe and his furious steps covered the whole length of the room in the space of a scant minute; he was literally seething with murderous fits of rage, teeth grinding with irrepressible choler. “No!” your desperate voice erupted afresh and you hurried to reach for him, your hands unconsciously enveloping his cheekbones “Please, please, John, please, stop!” For the first time, his name slipped out of your aching throat in between those pathetic pleads, your wrists forced him to look at you, in attempt to dissuade him from his homicidal purposes; the mere thought of the potential disastrous consequences to his calamitous ire totally asphyxiated you, rampant panic assaulted your frail mind and, soon after, you found yourself hyperventilating and simultaneously rambling a bunch of incoherent words, your fingers gradually tightening their grip on him. “He’s gonna get so angry at me, he’s gonna- he-he’s...” “I’m a fucking Shelby, he does not draw a damn breath unless I say so” He firmly grabbed your chin with just two of his fingers, guiding your depleted pupils to entirely focus on his confident stare, and he growled that undisputable fact a span away from your nose. Petrified by that new awareness, you fell utterly silent, only gawking in his direction, while he put his undershirt back on with ease and rapidly grasped his cap. “Just stay here, do you hear me? Don’t move until I come back” An incandescent kiss was impulsively pressed to your forehead, no other words were spent, before he disappeared behind the door of your private hell. When your persecutor saw his special guest unyieldingly storming towards his desk with a truculent expression exuding fervent disappointment, he jumped on his feet, ready to find a solution to whatever problem had possibly arisen; one thing was sure, he never would’ve guessed what was about to happen. “Mr. Shelby, what’s wron-” John’s fist savagely collided with his jaw, nipping his cloying speech in the bud, without giving Turrini a second to process what was going on, another punch pitilessly smote him, and then another one, and then another, until hot, plenteous blood gushed from his multiple wounds. “You son of a bitch” Animalistic groans left his rabid maws, sheer hate rushing through his brains, as he violently tossed him to the ground, immediately beginning to kick his torso with all of his brute force. “Mercy! I beg of you, sir, have mercy!” His victim’s prayers and harrowing screams barely titillated his ears, everything he could think about was your tragically marred body, hence an unbridled desire to give him a taste of his own medicine completely took over. “Where was your mercy when you were torturing her?” Expertely holding his hat in the most efficient way, in a fury, John went down on his sacrificial lamb, promptly disfiguring just one side of his face, in order to take a quite theatrical pause from his wicked work.

“When she was imploring you to stop?” Robert was now crying out loud, overwhelmed by that merciless agony, reduced to just invoke the glacial scynt of death, since nothing in his entire miserable existence had ever caused him more intense pain, than the coarse perception of a finely sharpened razorblade brutishly lacerating his flesh once more, inch by inch.

“Now bend your ear to this” despite his wrenching laments, John rudely lift him up by seizing the blood stained collar of his jacket “if anyone else but me goes near her fucking room again, I’ll burn this fucking place down!” And with that first, deadly threat the pimp’s head was brutally slammed into the wall, an umpteenth whine of contrition escaping his mouth filled with blood, nevertheless, no time was left for redemption.

“You lay a finger on her again” his skull was doggedly crashed into the bricks once again, a crimson spatter smeared the pale plaster covering them “I will break your neck” John’s knuckles clasped, having his red right hand effectively strenghten its hold on his neck, nearly killing him on the spot. However, fortunately for the whoremaster, Johnny would’ve not put an end to his sufferings, nor he could've simply taken you away, deep inside, he knew he needed to discuss it with his family, first and foremost, with Thomas, for the unstable equilibrium reached by the Peaky Blinder was far too fragile to start a new war against the Italians. Thus, with great difficulty, he forced himself to keep his mind clear and put a lid on his beastly instinct. “From now on, no one of you dirty swines is allowed to even look at her” Throwing him to the floor, the middle Shelby delivered one last kick straight to his fat abdomen, and disrespectfully spit on him, marking with his salt slaver the end of his brutalized prey’s calvary. “By order of the Peaky Blinders” As soon as the crackling door snapped open, your heart seemed to explode, your eyelids bolted with pure fear, whilst you pulled your knees closer to your clavicles, an ancient prayer lingering your lips together with heavy breaths, as you prepared for the worst. But the worst never came. “Y/n, hey, calm down. It’s all right” John’s husky voice echoed in your ears, and, you could’ve sworn it, that was, without the slightest doubt, the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Your head abruptly tilted in his direction, an oxymoric mixture of fear and hope twinkling into your watery irises, deep pants still rocking your tiny self. “It’s me, it’s just me” Keeping his arms up to indicate his innocuous purpose, he carefully approached you. Almost immediately, you noticed the several scarlet handprints staining his pale top, eloquent sign that he had tried to wipe his palms on that ivory material as best as he could. Yet, you were so profoundly relieved to see his friendly face, that, to be honest, the sight of fresh blood didn’t upset you at all. It was like you had fallen into a fugue state, every single thing around you was so distant, your numb senses were only able to concentrate on John’s lean silhouette kneeling in front of you. “ No one will hurt you anymore, darling” his hands gently went to caress your thighs, while his worried gaze tirelessly sought yours and he spoke those soft, reassuring words “You need to trust me”. And you did want to put all of your faith in that young man. His delicate flair easily awakened you from that ostensible slumber, building a rousing fire inside your belly; without a thought about your unforeseen actions, you threw your arms around his strong neck, your knees producing a dry sound as they collided with the wooden pavement, still you didn’t care and you held him tight, letting out loud cries and drowning into his muscular chest, finally revelling in the feeling of that warm embrace. Soon, he entangled his callous fingers with your velvety locks, subconsciously narrowing his solid shoulders, as to shield your frangible figure from the outside world. “I'll get you out of here soon, I promise”

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