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xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

greedy | myg x reader | chapter five: do we look like recruiters to you?

summary: being a loner has never bothered yoongi until now. until you.

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 6.7K

notes: thank you all so much for rolling with the changes to my posting schedule. it’s been a while since i posted an update and i really wanted to give you guys a chapter. plus it makes more sense, in my mind to break it out like this. in this chapter, you’ll notice that ko starts calling OC “jagiya.” thank you to the korean reader who brought to my attention that my previous nickname for her didn’t fit as well as this one!

anyway, you guys make me endlessly happy with your feedback on this story. i’d love to hear what you think of this chapter. beta read by @hobi-gif because i would wither away without her analysis. also beta’d by the awesome @btsarmy9593 who has been so awesome to give me her feedback. thank you to @augustbutwinter for the words of encouragement. and of course, the boos @ladyartemesia and @untaemedqueen pitched in to help me in this journey as well.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

*************************

Min Yoongi wakes up with a problem. Well a few problems, actually.

The first is that he has to pee.

The second is the head-to-toe pain that starts to register the moment his sluggish brain kicks into gear. He starts from the bottom -- gingerly wiggling his toes, carefully stretching his legs -- and slowly works his way up, taking mental inventory of what hurts and what doesn’t.

A lot of shit is landing on the hurts list right now.

The third problem -- and perhaps the most pressing -- is the problem pressing into his side right now.

Your hair is still damp.

Yoongi noses into it and lies in the quiet for a while, breathing you in while you sleep. You smell like his shampoo and his soap. You’re wearing his t-shirt and basketball shorts. You are covered in him; fitted to him. Solid and warm and real.

Which brings him to his next problem.

This is the kind of feeling that’s way too easy to become addicted to. The kind of feeling that makes you do stupid shit. Take away the mangled body and the looming safety concerns and this is easily the best morning of his life.

That’s why when you stir and burrow a bit deeper into his side, Yoongi ignores the pain radiating from his sore ribs. He ignores the way his arm has fallen asleep under you, ignores the intermittent buzzing of his phone from the nightstand warning of missed texts.

He ignores the tiny voice in his head that says don’t get attached to this feeling.

Yoongi ignores everything but you and this because right now, it’s the only thing he wants to think about.

And then he’s drifting off again.

***************************

This time, Yoongi wakes up alone.

The deep steadying breath he takes while he’s trying to work up the nerve to get out of bed hurts like hell.

Everything hurts like hell, actually -- the back of his head where he can feel scrapes left behind by the brick wall, his jaw from where he took that driller to the face. His knee from where he jammed it into that fucking goon’s stomach.

But his shoulder is what’s really fucking everything up right now.

He can’t remember telling you where to find the sling or how you got it on. Can’t remember you positioning his pillows around his injured arm or slipping into bed beside him. He’d been so fucked up by the pain and the adrenaline withdrawal that he’s pretty sure he blacked out at some point.

So Yoongi lies there for a minute, trying to piece together what he can remember of last night.

The memories come back to him blurred and disjointed, out of order.

He remembers feeling like he might vomit when you shoved his shoulder back into place. Awkwardly accepting your help taking off his jeans so he could shower. Nearly falling to his knees under the hot water. Pulling himself together long enough to stash his gun in a drawer when you’d stepped away.

And it’s that last memory that makes his chest go tight.

Last night, hiding his gun seemed like the right thing to do. A way to keep you separate from the ugliness he normalized a long time ago. But this morning the half-assed lie of omission makes him feel guilty as hell. A pathetic attempt to delay the inevitable. Chewing gum jammed into the crack of a dam.

He has to tell you about that gun.

So he gets to work on dragging his ass out of bed. It takes him way too damned long to sit upright, way too damned long to slide himself off the edge of the mattress. Longer than that to slowly limp his way into the bathroom where he pees for what feels like a solid ten minutes.

He’s still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he spots the bright red toothbrush sitting in the cup on his sink.

It’s just some cheap throwaway he brought home after his last visit to the dentist -- a long-forgotten backup that’s been stashed in the cabinet under the bathroom counter for months. But now it’s sitting out in the open, in that cup. Right next to his own blue one.

Yoongi stares at it and scrubs a hand over his face.

And that tiny voice in his head gets a bit louder.

************************

He finds you seated at his piano, bare-faced and hair tousled. Fingers tracing light patterns across the keys of his custom instrument, gaze taking in all of the tiny details he paid a small fortune for.

He could have stayed there for a while, just appreciating the view had you not caught him staring.

Your dark eyes flick up to find his and Yoongi’s pulse quickens at the warmth in them. At the soft, shy smile that comes over you just before you clear your throat and lower your eyes back to the keys.

“Beautiful,” you sigh.

No kidding, Yoongi thinks.

He crosses the room slowly. Tries his hardest not to limp but the throb in his knee makes that nearly impossible. Sadness flashes across your face as you watch him sink heavily onto the bench beside you.

“I can help you, you know,” you admonish softly.

Yoongi shrugs, motioning to the sling. “You already have.”

He stills when you reach one hand out to brush your fingertips across the redness on his jaw. You stroke your thumb across his aching cheek and Yoongi leans into the touch, savoring the feeling of your skin against his.

“Yoongi,” you whisper, “I’m so sorry you’re hurt, and -- ” you pause to shake your head sadly, “-- and I’m so sorry it’s because I put you in this position.”

Yoongi sucks in a deep breath.

He can’t bring himself to tell you that he can’t think straight when he imagines what could have happened if that fucking goon had gotten you alone. Can’t bring himself to admit out loud that he could have pulled his gun and ended that piece of shit without losing a second of sleep.

Would have, had you not been there.

“Better me than you, Doc,” he says thickly. “You made the right call.”

You press a gentle kiss to his throbbing jaw.

“You still mad at me?”

You whisper the words into the shell of Yoongi’s ear and a slow heat builds in his gut.

“Yeah,” he lies, dropping a kiss on the delicate skin below your jaw. He ghosts the tip of his nose against the curve of your neck and you shudder under his touch. He’s forced to check himself, leaning back for a few inches of badly-needed space.

On the bright side, at least his dick isn’t broken, too.

He clears his throat. “If that guy had brought backup -- ”

“ -- If that guy had brought backup, he’d have been out of the car long before you left his buddy in a pile on the floor,” you interrupt gently.

Yoongi chuckles. “Just admit you’re terrible at following directions.”

“You happen to have your MRI results around here anywhere? I’d be interested to see what they say about that shoulder.”

You raise one brow when Yoongi narrows his eyes at you in response. “No? Well, then I guess I’m not the only one who’s bad at following directions.”

“Guess not,” Yoongi admits with a smile.

Your turn your attention back to his piano, touch reverent as you slide one hand across the rich black lacquer.

“When you first walked in, I was going to say something really dumb like do you play?” you admit with a laugh. “But no one owns something this magnificent unless they have a passion for it.”

“Yeah, I play,” Yoongi murmurs. “When I have two functioning arms.”

He’d intended to earn a laugh with that tease, but the joke falls flat. Sadness creeps back into your features.

“Yoongi,” you say quietly, gaze dropping into your lap. “I honestly don’t know what would have happened to me last night without you. And all I can think about this morning is why? Why did you do this for me?”

Fuck, that’s a loaded question.

If Yoongi had the balls, he’d tell you straight up that he fell for you the moment he laid eyes on you at Songdo . That you feel like his chance at something more. But Yoongi doesn’t say any of that.

Instead, he coughs up a weak white lie.

“We’re both out here flying solo Doc. We have to look out for each other. Besides -- ” he tips your chin up with a gentle press of his fingers and finds your dark eyes glassy with unshed tears. “ -- I have a thing for that smart mouth of yours.”

He earns a tiny smile from you then, just the slightest curve of your lips. And he’s this close to kissing the soft, sad expression right off your face when that voice in his mind fucks everything up again.

Tell her about the gun.

The thought is like a bucket of cold water over his head, jarring him from the intimacy of this moment. Yoongi swallows thickly before opening his mouth to tell you the truth. But before he can speak, you do.

“I have something of yours,” you say, reaching into the pocket of your borrowed basketball shorts. Yoongi watches you produce a worn handmade bracelet and holds his palm open to accept it. “It fell out of your jacket last night,” you explain.

He rubs his thumb over the smooth metal corners of the cross that dangles from aged leather. It brings back the memory of his baptism -- of the day Mrs. Bak proudly gifted it to him while he was still damp from the ceremony. It also brings back the memory of last night -- when he’d clutched it between his fingers and sent a silent plea for protection skyward.

It’s been a long time since he’s prayed. It’s been a long time since he had anything to pray for.

“Are you religious?” you ask softly.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Honestly? I don’t know.” A self-conscious heat creeps up his neck. “Just makes me feel better, I guess. Is that dumb?”

“No,” you reassure quietly, bringing one warm hand up to cup his cheek. Yoongi covers your hand with his, laces his fingers in between yours. “Not dumb at all.”

Tell her about the gun.

“Doc,” Yoongi whispers thickly, “We need to talk about something.”

Your hand falls away from his face and your spine goes stiff with tension and Yoongi almost loses his nerve.

Almost.

“Okay, so I was, uh -- carrying a gun last night,” he starts, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck, “I carry a gun all the time, actually. I hid it because I didn’t want to freak you out.”

You say nothing, expression unreadable. And Yoongi keeps talking.

“But I don’t want to keep things from you,” he says quietly. “I want you to know exactly who I am. No half-truths.”

Your eyes drop back down to the piano. You pluck at one of the keys and a somber note rings out, lingers in the air between you before you speak.

“You have a gunshot wound in your back, Yoongi,” you murmur. “It’s not exactly a leap of logic. Besides, I already saw your gun. It was in your drawer last night when I got you a change of clothes.”

Yoongi nods slowly, processing the fact that you’d discovered the gleaming silver piece and hadn’t written him off right away. You’d still slept in the crook of his arm last night. You’re still here right now.

“And yeah, maybe it does freak me out a bit,” you admit. “But after what I saw last night, maybe I can understand a bit, too.”

Yoongi lets go of the breath he’s been holding and takes your hand in his. Maybe is as good as he could have hoped for at this point. Maybe is not a dead end.

“I have something to tell you, too,” you admit after a moment. “I’m due at the hospital in a few hours.”

“Doc,” Yoongi groans, hand tightening reflexively around yours. “You can’t go back there.”

“I don’t have a choice,” you insist, pulling away. “This isn’t just some job I fell into, Yoongi. This is years of my life.”

Yoongi is quiet for a few seconds, willing his rising agitation to subside. He’s careful to check his tone before he speaks.

“You’re not safe there.”

“I have to go back. I don’t have a choice,” you repeat. “I can’t afford to get blacklisted and Lee is still my boss. And if he’s already got wind of what happened last night, he’s going to be gunning for me even harder than he already has been. I have to tread carefully.”

Yoongi shoves a hand through his hair.

“You have to meet me in the middle here, Doc,” he exhales. “There’s got to be something halfway between you walking right back into that hellhole and you losing your job. Take a couple of sick days. Give me some time to figure out who your boss is working with and what I can do about it. Can you do that?”

You’re quiet for a moment as you consider his proposal.

“Yeah,” you concede softly. “I can do that.”

You lift a hand to brush a lock of hair out of his face and press your mouth to his.

Every cell in Yoongi’s body stands at attention. He cards his fingers into the soft mass of your hair and kisses you slowly -- carefully -- all too aware of the way he’d manhandled you last night.

Not even the pain in his jaw could take away from how good it feels to touch you like this. Not even the ache in his ribs could stop him from leaning into you. He slips his tongue past your lips and you whimper, fingers curling into his sore knee.

He could not give a shit.

Yoongi leaves your mouth to trail kisses down your jaw, and you tip your head back, offering him the soft expanse of your neck. He accepts it gladly, mouth hot and open on your skin, savoring your scent and taste -- enjoying the way he can feel your pulse fluttering wildly under his lips.

He’s enjoying it all so much that he gets careless. The elbow of his injured arm connects with the sharp edge of the piano and he recoils instantly.

“Dammit,” he groans. “Fuck.”

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth.

The pain is so potent it seems to radiate all the way from his arm to his temples. Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the ringing in his ears to subside.

“Yoongi, your shoulder, it's -- it’s really bad,” you admonish quietly. “If you keep going like this, the damage is going to be permanent.”

“Trust me, I know,” he sighs. “I’m going to get this looked at, I just haven’t.”

“I want you to see a friend of mine at Asan today,” you urge. “He’s a good doctor. He can get you some pain relief. Get you back to working condition.”

Yoongi nods weakly, pain still ebbing from his arm.

“But it’s not a substitute for an MRI and it’s not a substitute for surgery,” you warn. “This is just a temporary fix. You have to be careful. Whatever you’re planning, just please be careful.”

Yoongi skates the pad of his thumb over your lips before kissing you just one more time.

“Don’t worry about me, Doc,” he murmurs. “I’m going to have some help.”

**************************

It’s amazing what a pair of high-powered steroid shots and a bottle of industrial-strength painkillers can do for a guy.

Yoongi pulls into the parking lot at Maekju feeling almost human again.

If the text messages that have been blowing up his phone all afternoon are any indication, everyone is here tonight. Everyone with the exception of Namjoon, of course. He doesn’t drink anymore and even when he did, he always preferred to drink alone.

Jungkook is the first person Yoongi spots, leaned up against a pool table, beer in hand. He’s watching Jimin and Taehyung face off at billiards while Seokjin and Hoseok sit side-by-side at the bar, deep in conversation.

The maknae’s eyes go a bit wide when he takes in Yoongi’s unusual gait and immobilized arm.

“Holy shit, hyung,” he breathes as Yoongi approaches. “What the hell happened to you?”

Seokjin whips around in his barstool at the sound of Jungkook’s greeting, but Hoseok doesn’t take the bait. He stiffens in his seat but refuses to turn around. Stubborn bastard.

“Yoga accident,” Yoongi mutters, stepping up to the bar next to Seokjin. The older man smirks as he takes a long pull of his beer.

“How’d you drive with that thing on?” Seokjin asks, motioning to Yoongi’s sling.

“Carefully,” Yoongi says dryly. “Listen, can you give me a minute with Jung here?”

Seokjin’s critical gaze bounces back and forth between Yoongi and Hoseok, who is still resolutely pretending not to notice the conversation taking place just inches from his face. He stares into a television mounted high above the bar and sips his whiskey with feigned indifference.

“You two need couple’s counseling, I swear,” Seokjin groans, rolling his eyes. He stands to his feet to relinquish his barstool and claps a hand over Yoongi’s good shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Hoseok, the fucking infant, grabs a newspaper abandoned on the bartop and proceeds to pretend to read it. Yoongi slides into the stool next to him anyway.

“Miss me?”

Hoseok doesn’t answer.

“You’re not gonna say hello? Not gonna ask me why it looks like I spent all night falling off a cliff?”

“Nope.”

Yoongi waves off the bartender who starts walking in his direction. The last thing he needs is a drink. He’s got so many painkillers in his system right now that one sip of booze would probably have him under the bar in seconds.

“Come on Hoseok,” Yoongi sighs. “Don’t be a dick. I’ve literally never seen you read a newspaper.”

“I like to stay informed,” Hoseok shrugs.

“Well, I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Oh, so you talk to me now?” Hoseok snickers. “That’s new.”

Hoseok’s probably earned the right to his petulance, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying. Yoongi starts to reconsider that drink.

“Jung,” he groans. “I’m trying to apologize here.”

“So apologize then.”

“Fine,” Yoongi mutters. “I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole lately. I’ve been twisted up over some shit that has nothing to do with you or family business.”

Hoseok grabs his whiskey off the bar and finally -- finally -- pivots to face him.

“A giant asshole,” he corrects dryly.

“Yes. A giant asshole,” Yoongi repeats. “We good now?”

Hoseok sips his whiskey slowly, eyes narrowed at Yoongi over the lip of his glass.

“Buy me a drink.”

“Fine,” Yoongi hisses, flagging the bartender.

Hoseok leans back in his barstool, looking a bit smug.

“Now this shit you’ve been twisted up about,” he starts, brow cocked. “Would this have anything to do with your secret doctor friend?”

“Maybe,” Yoongi admits, scratching at the back of his neck. His injured shoulder is tired from carrying the extra weight of the sling. He rolls it gingerly as Hoseok looks on.

“Would this have anything to do with why you look like you got jumped on your way in here tonight?”

Yoongi’s cheeks warm at his partner’s blunt observation. “Maybe.”

Hoseok drains his whiskey just as the bartender arrives with a fresh one. He takes a long drink before setting his glass back down on the bar. His lips purse thoughtfully as he levels Yoongi with a long, assessing look.

“Okay,” he says calmly. “So who do we have to go fuck up?”

**************************

Dr. Lee Geon just looks like a fucking weasel.

Yoongi glares at the man as he strolls into the coffee shop a few blocks from Songdo with just minutes to spare to his shift.

Lee bears little resemblance to his photos on the hospital website.

He’s thin -- just this side of gaunt -- hollow cheeks prominent below dark under eyes beneath a sparse dusting of greasy hair. Were he not dressed in a rumpled lab coat and equally creased scrubs, Yoongi might have missed him entirely.

Across the room, Hoseok peers at Yoongi over the top of yet another borrowed newspaper -- is this the guy? -- and Yoongi answers with a furtive nod.

He goes over the plan they’d worked out in the car in his head. They’d find the guy -- make sure he was the guy -- and then follow him out of the shop. Catch him just before he got into his car. Shake him up a bit before shaking him down for information.

There’s one thing Yoongi still hasn’t worked out, though.

Just how much he’s going to allow himself to hurt this asshole before sending him on his way. Lee slowly shuffles his way to the front of the line as Yoongi imagines jamming his fist into the man’s stupid fucking face. Imagines doing it over and over again until the piece of shit is unrecognizable.

Yoongi watches Lee order his drink as he kneads at the tender muscles of his shoulder.

Ditching the sling was probably a bad idea -- definitely against doctor’s orders -- but it was a risk he was more than willing to take. He’d downed a couple of painkillers and shoved his shoulder into a brace and decided he could deal with the dull throb just for the night.

No way in hell he was going to confront this scumbag looking like some kid who just fell off his skateboard.

It doesn’t take long for the barista to put together Lee’s drink. He grabs his coffee and Yoongi tenses in anticipation of his next move. But instead of heading for the exit, Lee heads for the bathroom instead.

Yoongi locks eyes with Hoseok across the room and Hoseok raises one brow.

Change of plans?

Yoongi nods.

*****************************

Lee’s coffee sits abandoned atop the sink ledge.

Yoongi and Hoseok slip silently into the bathroom and get right to work. Hoseok blocks the door as Yoongi quietly creeps past the stalls, ducking his head to peer beneath each one. Lee’s scuffed sneakers are the only pair of shoes he spots.

His ears pick up on a faint sound coming from inside the locked stall.

It’s a kind of soft, intermittent rasping. Yoongi concentrates on the noise, isolates it until he comes to the realization that it’s sniffling he’s hearing. He turns to Hoseok and taps his finger against the side of his nose and Hoseok nods his agreement.

Yoongi shakes his head in disgust. Is there a single substance this idiot isn’t addicted to?

It takes a moment for the sniffling to subside. It’s followed by a few seconds of quiet rustling in which Yoongi can picture Lee carefully pocketing whatever’s left of his coke. The noises from behind the brushed steel barrier finally stop and the next thing Yoongi hears is the distinct clink of the latch coming apart.

Lee swings the door wide -- gets one look at what’s waiting for him on the other side -- and nearly jumps out of his skin.

He startles so hard that he almost falls backward into the toilet. But he catches himself, regaining his balance and staring back at Yoongi with wide, worried eyes.

Yoongi stands there and says nothing.

“Excuse me,” Lee mumbles, eyeing him wearily as he tries to slide past. He takes two steps forward then stops in his tracks when he spots Hoseok. Lee swallows thickly, eyes darting back and forth between both men.

“Is there a problem gentlemen?” he croaks.

Yoongi takes a step towards Lee. He shrinks back when Yoongi reaches for his badge, yanking the retractable cord as he pulls it close to examine it. Yoongi runs his thumb over the raised lettering on the laminated card, letting the taut silence linger for dramatic effect.

Then he lets go of the badge without warning, fighting a smile when Lee flinches as it snaps back into place.

“Yes, we have a problem,” Yoongi confirms pleasantly. “And yes, it’s you.”

The little color left in Lee’s face immediately drains out.

“Look, I don’t know who you guys are, but you don’t w-want to mess with me,” he stammers, voice cracking comically halfway through his flimsy threat. “I know people.”

“Oh shit,” Yoongi’s eyes go wide with feigned concern, “You hear that, Jung? This guy knows people.”

“Sounds scary,” Hoseok chuckles.

Lee starts to breathe harder, chest rising and falling faster. Pupils blown with fear and coke.

“Now, here’s the difference between you and us, Dr. Lee,” Yoongi explains calmly. “You know people. But we -- ” he motions to himself and then to Hoseok, “ -- are people . Do you understand what I’m trying to say here?”

Yoongi punctuates his point by brushing the edge of his open leather jacket aside, allowing his pistol to peek out from underneath. Lee’s eyes lock on it as he nods slowly, pulling deep, noisy breaths through his nose.

“Great. Now we don’t have to play the game where you pretend not to know about the bullshit you’ve been pulling over at the hospital, right?”

Lee shakes his head slowly.

“So that means we also don’t have to play the game where you pretend you didn’t send some fucking street goon to rough up a little old lady, either. Right?”

The man’s mouth drops open like his first instinct is to deny that accusation. But he steals another look at Hoseok and shuts it instead.

“And then -- ” Yoongi jabs Lee in the chest with one finger and the man jumps back, “-- you tried to send that same goon after your own resident. But here’s the thing, Doctor Lee. She knows people, too.”

Lee’s body goes rigid. Yoongi watches him process the information with his drug-addled brain, a flare of recognition finally sparking in his dull eyes.

“I saw you at the hospital,” Lee whispers. “You know her.”

“Don’t worry about who I know,” Yoongi shrugs. “Worry about what you’re going to say in your resignation letter.”

He advances on the man again, closing the space between them. Lee tries to back away, but he runs out of room. He tilts against the stall door.

“Resignation letter?” he echoes weakly.

“The one you’re turning in tonight,” Yoongi explains coolly. “Before you get the fuck out of Songdo and then get the fuck out of Seoul.”

Lee sputters for a moment, grasping for his next words.

“Well, where am I supposed to go?” he bleats.

“Do we look like recruiters to you, man?” Hoseok cuts in sharply. “We don’t give a shit where you go -- you just have to go. You sure this guy is a doctor, Min? He seems way too dumb to be a doctor.”

“Nah. This guy’s a junkie pretending to be a doctor,” Yoongi accuses, dropping any pretense of good humor. “Pretending to be a tough guy, too. But all of that ends tonight.”

Yoongi grabs Lee by the chin, jerking his head into place and forcing the trembling man to look him in the eye.

“In ten minutes, you’re going to walk your ass into that hospital. You’re going to tell them you are leaving. You are going to take that piece of shit pharmacist and anyone else who’s involved with you. And then you are never going to step foot in this city again.”

He pauses to enjoy the way Lee’s pupils dilate even wider with fear.

“You’re not too high to understand what I’m saying to you right now, right?”

Lee shakes his head weakly, jaw still pinned in Yoongi’s vice grip.

“Great. Now just one more thing before you go on your merry way,” Yoongi says, voice low with menace. “Give us the name of your street guys.”

Lee panics. “I can’t,” he whines from between compressed cheeks. “They’ll kill me.”

Yoongi grips his face tighter, crushing the man’s jaw and using it to push his body flush against the stall. His fingers and knuckles turn white with the force of his grasp and Lee groans weakly at the pain.

“I will kill you,” Yoongi seethes. “Me. Right fucking now with my bare fucking hands if you don’t give me that name.”

Lee is sweating so profusely that Yoongi wonders briefly if he’s having a heart attack. He’s probably got enough coke in his system for that to be an actual concern. But the pathetic little shit manages to pull himself together long enough to follow directions.

“Kkangpae,” he wheezes.

Yoongi’s iron grip stays in place, even as he turns to Hoseok, even as both men exchange a look. That is something he did not see coming. Perhaps his recent personal issues are family business, after all.

He finally releases Lee’s jaw and the man rears back, breathing hard.

“You have exactly one day to get the fuck out of this city,” Yoongi instructs quietly. “And that is not an offer I’m prepared to make twice.”

Lee licks his dry lips, nodding his head slowly like he’s just come out of a trance. “Okay.”

“Great chat,” Yoongi smiles, patting Lee’s cheek.

Hoseok leaves his post at the door to cross the cramped bathroom and reach for the coffee Lee abandoned minutes ago. Both men watch in silence as he turns it up over the sink, pours it out, and then tosses it in the trash.

He heads back to the door and holds it open.

“Damn Hoseok,” Yoongi murmurs as he brushes past. “That was cold.”

*********************************

YOU

There’s buzzing. Of that, you’re sure.

But in those first few moments that you’re rousing, you can’t be sure if you’re hearing it or dreaming it. You’re disoriented. It’s the second time in as many days you’ve woken up in an unfamiliar bed.

Shafts of sunlight pour through the blinds and you squint at them, trying to get a sense of the time of day. If the amber tinge is any indication, it’s late into the afternoon.

The buzzing sounds again.

You roll to your side to grab your cell phone off the nightstand and blink at a long list of waiting texts.

ko: wake up sleeping beauty [ 11:36 AM ]

ko: i have news [ 11:45 AM ]

ko: big news [ 12:22 PM ]

ko: and gaeran tost-u [ 1:02 PM ]

ko: ready for you to wake up now [ 1:43 PM ]

ko: don’t mind me just gonna bang a few pots and pans [ 2:11 PM ]

Any curiosity over Ko’s big news is overshadowed by the way your heart drops when none of those messages is from Yoongi.

Before you’d left his apartment, he’d asked you to stay. He’d cleared his throat and looked down at his hands and explained that he’d feel better if you weren’t alone until this entire mess was settled. But the way he looked at you in those last few minutes together made you feel like his proposition was about much more than just your protection.

It made you want to say yes.

Never mind that it’s insane to feel so at home in his personal space -- or that coming to that realization might have sent you into a mild panic. In the end, you’d had to say no because you couldn’t bring yourself to leave Ko on her own while this madness played out.

You rub the sleep out of your eyes and fire off two quick texts.

you: i hope you’re okay. please be careful [ 2:33 PM ]

you: up now. be down in five [ 2:34 PM ]

**************************

Ko makes good on her promise of gaeran tost-u.

You’re greeted by the pleasant smell of the sugared egg dish as you walk down the stairs. Ko sits at her kitchen table, eyes shining with excitement, and pushes a plate at you when you slide into the chair across from hers.

“Eat,” she orders sweetly. Your stomach rumbles on cue and you waste no time digging in.

“This is really good,” you declare around a mouthful of bread and eggs. “I might have to live with you forever.”

Ko smiles wide and the expression makes you feel warm from the inside out. The bruising on her face is barely visible now, easily hidden with a little makeup. Her eyes crinkle with happiness as she watches you eat without saying a word.

“Alright,” you sigh, loathe to stop eating even for as long as it takes to speak. “Spill it. You look fit to burst.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” she complains cheerfully. “Dr. Lee is gone. Walked into Songdo last night and walked out forever.”

You gasp halfway through your next bite, sputtering as you try to catch your breath around a mouthful of toasted bread. Ko stands to grab you a glass of water which you gratefully accept.

“Well, don’t die on me now,” she teases, “Because there’s more. Nang left, too. And Tuan and Beom from pathology. All four of them quit without even so much as a notice, Jagi. Isn’t that wild?”

You sip your water slowly and Ko’s eyes flash as she watches you.

“Yoo called me early this morning and said the entire hospital is talking about it. There’s a bunch of crazy theories going around. And here I am, drinking my tea. Thinking about how you took a few sick days and showed up here. Thinking about how healthy and rested you look right now. Isn’t that interesting?”

You nod, jamming the sandwich back in your mouth for an obnoxiously large bite.

“And I can’t help but wonder if there’s some connection between this very convenient development and my very sweet, secretive friend.”

Ko’s mouth twists into a teasing smile as you chew your food absurdly slow.

“That sandwich isn’t going to last forever, Jagi,” she says dryly. She lifts her teacup to her mouth and takes a dainty sip. “And trust me, I have nothing but time.”

She leans back, cup in hand.

“Okay, so I might know something about it,” you admit after a while. “But there’s still a lot I don’t know. And I’m not sure how much of this you want to hear.”

Ko tuts under her breath.

“I want to hear it all. I’ve got quite a few years on you and trust me, very little shocks me anymore. So now you spill it.”

You take another sip of water and clear your throat.

“Okay,” you exhale. “So there’s this guy -- ”

“ -- Oh, I love it when stories start like this,” Ko interrupts. She props her chin up with her hands like you’re telling a bedtime story and you shake your head with a wry smile.

“He’s been kind of… helping me, I guess.”

“Helping you,” Ko echoes. “As in helping you out of your clothes?”

“No,” you deny hotly, cheeks warming. “He’s a friend.”

Ko doesn’t bother to call you out on the weak lie. But her face says what her mouth doesn’t when one skeptical brow raises high.

“Go on.”

“I told him about what was going on at the hospital and he said he could help me,” you explain slowly. “So I’m pretty sure he figured out a way to run off Lee and Nang.”

Ko taps her finger against the side of her teacup.

“So let me see if I have this right,” she muses. “You tell this friend -- who you’ve never once mentioned, by the way -- that you’ve been having this very dangerous trouble at work. And then your friend somehow manages to convince two grown men who’ve worked at Songdo for years to give up their high-paying jobs and up-front access to IV drugs overnight.”

You shift uncomfortably in your chair.

“And just like that -- ” Ko snaps her fingers for emphasis, “ -- they’re gone without so much as a fuss.”

You nod weakly.

“Jagi,” Ko’s voice drops low. “I take it your friend’s not a mailman, is he?”

“No,” you mumble. “Definitely not.”

Ko hums under her breath. She carefully lifts her teacup to drink, eyes trained on you over the rim. Her quiet scrutiny makes you anxious.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asks after a long pause.

“If I said no would that stop you?”

“Not a chance,” Ko laughs. “Would this friend happen to be the mysterious, handsome man who asked for you in the ER a few weeks back?”

Mind like a steel trap, this woman. You should have known Ko would make that connection and fast. There’s no point in denying it, so you don’t.

“Yes,” you whisper thickly. “He is.”

It’s hard to get a read on Ko’s reaction. Over the years, you’ve come to rely on her sweetness and wisdom and warmth. But now, as you stare into her dark eyes and try to interpret her careful expression, you realize there’s something else you need from her.

Her approval.

“Ko, I think I -- ” you pause to choose your words carefully, “ -- I think I might be in really deep with this guy.”

Ko snorts.

“Oh, I think you might be right about that, Jagiya . And if he’s helping you with something like this? Chances are, you’re not alone.”

“Yeah,” you exhale, wringing your hands together beneath the table. “Thing is -- I need you to tell me I’m not making a mistake here.”

The corners of Ko’s mouth lift into a soft expression of surprise.

“Oh, Jagi,” she chides sweetly. “You know I can’t tell you that. I don’t know anything about this man.” She reaches across the table to cover your hand with her own. “But you do. You’re the only one who knows how you feel about him. And you’re the only one who knows if he’s a good man underneath it all.”

Ko squeezes your hand and you turn your head before she can see the tears that threaten in your eyes. The amber sunlight outside her kitchen window is shifting orange now, flares of light reflecting off the glass.

You stare at them and think about Yoongi.

Until now, it’s like you’ve been splitting him into two different men -- the bruised, bloody con artist from the exam room and the quiet, teasing flirt from the coffee shop. Until now, it’s been the only way to reconcile your complicated feelings.

But it's well past time you accepted the truth.

The same Yoongi whose cheeks had pinked when he’d asked you to stay is the same Yoongi you watched beat the shit out of a hired thug. The Yoongi who carries a cross is the Yoongi who carries a gun. They’re two halves of one whole.

And you can’t pine for one and reject the other.

Your cell phone buzzes from the pocket of your pajama pants. You reach for it, relief coursing through you when you spot Yoongi’s name on the screen.

yoongi: one more thing to do before we can talk [ 3:01 PM ]

yoongi: it’s cold outside, be sure to bundle up [ 3:01 PM ]

Yoongi’s random mention of the weather confuses you. You stare at the texts and Ko stares at you, concerned by the baffled expression on your face.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” you insist, shaking your head. “Just, um -- ”

Bundle up. A tingle runs up the length of your spine as realization slowly creeps over you.

“Excuse me for a moment,” you murmur, slipping out of your seat.

Ko watches you dash up the stairs, slack-jawed.

You make a beeline for your borrowed room, throwing open the closet doors to find the coat you’d left hanging there on arrival. The coat you’d worn to and from Yoongi’s. You hurriedly dig into the pockets, fingers immediately making contact with something hard and jagged.

You pull it out.

The shiny silver key in your palm looks like it’s never been used, sharp edges gleaming in the waning sunlight streaming into this room.

You don’t have to guess what it’s for.

You just close your fingers around it and hold it tight.

*****************

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hysterialevi · 3 years

Text

Hjarta | Chapter 10

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

Author’s note: Sorry about the delay on this one guys! As I said before I wasn’t feeling that great these past few days because of the vaccine, but I’m doing much better now. Thanks for being patient.

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

A WHILE LATER

THE TEMPLE

This was it. This was finally the day.

After what felt like an eternity of going back and forth with his emotions, Eivor would see Sigurd married to Randvi at last, and the alliance would be set in stone. Their two clans would be joined into one fearsome army, and they would stop Kjotve from ever roaming Norway’s seas again.

It was a wondrous day for everyone in the village, considering the nature of their agenda. Vibrant decorations had been placed on every surface imaginable in Bjornheimr, and lively laughter could be heard ringing throughout the air.

Ribbons and banners hung from the roofs, lanterns dangled from the trees, and all across the ground, Eivor saw nothing but fresh flower petals adorning the paths. Meanwhile, the sounds of drums and lyres harmonized with the whispers of Mother Earth, and not too far away from him, the young man could see people dancing with one another.

It was a sight that normally would’ve inspired happiness in Eivor’s heart, but for today, all he felt was loneliness.

Ever since he woke up, he hadn’t been able to shake off the shadow that loomed over him. The weight of Sigurd’s absence continued to linger on his shoulders, and it hindered his motivation to get involved with the festivities.

At the moment, he was currently sitting on a bench that rested just beside the temple and overlooked the wedding, giving him a clear view of its events. He saw clusters of familiar faces beckoning him to come join them, but no matter what, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. And he knew exactly why.

Underneath the wedding arch, Eivor saw Sigurd and Randvi chatting with a group of people as they shared drinks with one another, getting a head-start to the wedding’s celebrations.

The prince was dressed in an ornate, white tunic paired with a crown of flowers that sat on his head, and his broad physique had been relieved of all the armor that he usually wore. He was smiling and laughing in the presence of the other guests, and on the surface, it looked like he was actually enjoying himself.

But underneath all the pretenses, Eivor could tell that the man was just as conflicted as he was. Every time he got a brief moment to himself, or was spared from the attention of scattered onlookers, his expression would drop, and a look of despondency would darken his eyes.

Sigurd seemed miserable, if Eivor was being honest. It was clear that he wasn’t willing to settle down with this marriage, but knew he had to for the sake of their clans’ safety... and it was ruining him.

Eivor just wished he could summon the courage to speak to him again. There were a thousand different things he wished to say to the man, but he had no idea how to word any of them.

How could he talk to Sigurd while acting as if nothing happened between the two of them? Or that they weren’t both upset about this wedding? How was it possible that they’d be able to keep up that kind of charade?

At this point, Eivor knew better than to believe he’d be able to conceal his true emotions. He had already seen how easy it was for Sigurd to crack open his shell, and he didn’t want to risk losing control of any more of his impulses. Especially not on a day such as this. Ingrida’s warnings had yet to take their leave from the Wolf-Kissed’s list of worries, and the last thing Eivor wanted was to be the reason they came true.

“Everyone!” Arngeir called out, breaking Eivor’s train of thought as the music came to a pause. “Everyone, gather around!”

The jarl was currently standing at the front of the wedding with Styrbjorn at his side, and held a tall tankard of mead in his grasp. He addressed the crowd before them while Sigurd lingered next to the archway, greeting his people with a radiant smile.

“My brothers!” Arngeir said proudly, “my sisters! Today is a day for celebration. The seas of this war have been relentless with chaos, and we have endured a great deal to stand where we are now. I know many of you have sacrificed your heart and soul in the name of survival. You have fought, you have bled, and you have known pain unlike any other. But no more. Today,” he placed a hand on Styrbjorn’s shoulder, “the Bear and Raven clans will become one, and we will finally have what it takes to deliver Kjotve into the jaws of Nidhoggr himself!”

A unanimous cheer erupted from the villagers.

“So, drink!” Arngeir exclaimed over their voices. “Drink and feast to your hearts’ content! Let your spirits sing with joy as we celebrate this marriage, and let the gods hear our thundering war cries when the time for battle comes! May Freya bless this new couple with her loving embrace, and may Tyr guide us into victory. Or to Valhalla.” He raised his tankard in the air. “Skål, my drengir!”

The guests returned the toast. “Skål!”

A series of merry cries rose from the crowd as they happily downed their drinks in unison, eager to get the mead flowing. The music of the festival quickly resumed its lively beat, and chirps of laughter returned to the air.

As for Eivor, the man remained seated by the temple and simply watched the festivities unfold, wishing more than anything that he could talk to Sigurd again. He knew the prince would likely welcome him with open arms despite the tension between them, but even then, there was just something holding him back.

He didn’t have the strength to approach Sigurd now that the man was officially married. Despite all his efforts to ignore it, Eivor did feel a spark of jealousy flickering in his heart whenever he laid eyes on Randvi, and he hated himself for it.

Randvi didn’t deserve any animosity. She was simply doing what she was told, just like Sigurd. Still, part of Eivor secretly wished he could be in her position. He wished he could openly display his affection for the prince, and not constantly feel the need to hide it.

But alas, there was no longer any grey area about the matter. Sigurd and Randvi had officially been bound by this alliance, and Eivor would have to stay away from him, no matter how alluring the thought might’ve been. They wouldn’t be able to repeat what they did last night, and to go against this marriage would’ve been a betrayal.

“Eivor?” A stray voice blurted out, causing the Wolf-Kissed to glance over his shoulder. He hadn’t expected anyone else to be up here, and yet, he found himself gazing back at the one man who could’ve potentially eased his pain.

Ulfar.

“What are you doing here, little cub?” The old raider asked, pushing through the snow. “I assumed you’d be enjoying the festivities by now.”

Eivor turned back around and rested his elbows on his knees, staring blankly at the ground.

“I’m not in the mood.”

Ulfar cocked a brow at the response. “Not in the mood for a drink? That doesn’t sound like you.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “Must be something bad.”

He took a seat next to Eivor, allowing himself to rest for a moment.

“...Care to share your thoughts?”

The young man paused, throwing Ulfar’s inquisitive nature right back at him. “Before I do -- what are you doing up here? I’m surprised you’re not at my father’s side. He usually keeps you close.”

“Indeed, but today’s not exactly a usual day, is it? Eirik and I are patrolling the village at your father’s behest. He wants us to make sure the people are safe whilst they celebrate the wedding.”

Eivor glanced at the view in front of them. “See anything yet?”

“Nothing urgent so far. Eirik spotted a longship on the horizon earlier, but it’s impossible to see which clan it belongs to from here. He’s keeping an eye on it as we speak.” The warrior tilted his head at the other man. “And what about you? What brings you to the temple on a day like this?”

Eivor hesitated. “I... I don’t know if I should say.”

A tone of genuine concern took hold of Ulfar’s voice. “Is it truly that bad?”

“Yes. I’m afraid so.”

The raider leaned forward in his seat, looking the young man in the eye. “Eivor. Speak plainly to me. What’s going on?”

The Wolf-Kissed turned away from Ulfar, pondering whether or not to tell him. He trusted the man to keep this conversation between them -- he had never known him to be a snitch -- but even then, part of him feared how Ulfar would react.

Eivor was aware of the warrior’s doubts towards Sigurd after all, and the last thing he wanted was to tarnish the prince’s reputation even further. This alliance was as fresh as a newborn babe, and the young man wondered if it would’ve been foolish to expose his secrets so soon.

Still, Eivor knew he couldn’t keep it in for much longer. The stress that came with suppressing his emotions was quickly taking its toll, and he needed to let it out somehow.

“Ulfar...” the young man said, “I’ll tell you what’s going on because I trust you, but this must stay between us. I mean it. No one else can hear about this. Alright?”

The older man’s brow was crinkled with confusion, but he complied nonetheless. “...Alright, Eivor. I understand. Now, what’s the matter?”

Eivor took a deep breath. “...Do you remember the conversation we had at the feast? When the Raven Clan first arrived?”

Ulfar chuckled. “No, not really. I’m an old man now, Eivor. My memory isn’t what it once was.”

Eivor returned the laugh. “You were telling me about Geirmund’s fortress. And how you met Linnea.”

The raider’s expression lit up with remembrance. “...Ah, yes.”

“You also asked me if I had found anyone significant in my life,” he continued. “I told you no.”

“And?”

Eivor knotted his hands together in nervousness. “Well... that’s changed recently.”

“Has it? Then why do you seem so upset? That’s a good thing, Eivor.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew who it was.”

Ulfar shrugged. “Well then, who is it?”

The Wolf-Kissed gazed down at the wedding. “...The man who just got married today.”

The old warrior followed his line of sight, instantly falling into silence once he realized whom Eivor was referring to.

“...You mean Sigurd?” Ulfar clarified, unable to hide the dread that was rising in his chest. “Oh, Eivor...”

“I know.” The younger man said. “I know it’s bad. I’ve told myself I shouldn’t feel this way over and over again, but no matter what I do, these thoughts just won’t go away. Sigurd and I tried to keep things platonic in the beginning, but over time, we just... couldn’t help it anymore.”

Ulfar let out a troubled sigh. “...And what about Randvi? Does she know about this?”

“No, I don’t think so. You’re the only one so far.”

That seemed to bring some relief to the raider. “Good. You’d do best to keep it that way. There’s no telling how others would react, especially the king.”

Eivor pressed a finger on his temple. “What should I do though, Ulfar? Out of honor, I can’t approach Sigurd now that he’s officially been wed. To entice him would be wrong. But I also can’t ignore how I feel.”

Ulfar’s gaze fell to the ground. “...I wish I had an easy answer for you, little cub. But the truth is, nothing about this will be easy. You have a special connection with Sigurd, and it isn’t going to disappear just because of this alliance.”

The young man grew despondent. “I only wish there was some way to forget about all this. Perhaps then, my mind would finally let me rest.”

The warrior shot a glance at his friend. “Eivor, are you listening to me?”

Eivor paused, urging Ulfar to continue his train of thought.

“You can’t make these feelings go away.” He reiterated. “You’re trying to fight a battle that’s already been lost. The best thing you can do right now is talk to Sigurd. Straighten things out with him. Clean up this mess before it becomes worse. It may not bring the outcome you want, but it will bring the closure you need. Trust me.”

Eivor peered in the prince’s direction, reluctant to accept reality. He knew there was truth to Ulfar’s words, but a part of him still wished for another solution. A solution that didn’t involve discarding his relationship with Sigurd.

“...Perhaps you’re right.” He conceded in a downcast manner.

The raider’s voice softened with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Eivor. This must be difficult for you. But it isn’t your fault.”

That piqued Eivor’s curiosity. “You don’t think so?”

“No, of course not. We do not choose who we love. The Nornir determine that for us. Unfortunately though, our plans do not always match what the gods have in mind. I only wish you didn’t have to be the one dealing with this dilemma.”

“...So do I.”

Ulfar switched to a more encouraging tone, hoping to lift the young man’s spirits. “Hey, there’s no need to sulk. Remember what Ingrida always says. Any attempt to deviate from the path will be met with what was destined to be. Your time will come. Just not today.”

Eivor displayed a faint smile in response to his words. “Thank you, Ulfar. I--”

“--Ulfar...!”

Interrupting their conversation, a third voice suddenly jumped into the scene, causing the two men to glance towards the source. The voice was sharpened with a deep rasp that sat on its edge, and it seemed to scrape against the throat of its owner. It didn’t have much force standing behind it, but even then, Eivor could still hear the desperation behind its words.

“Yes?” Ulfar replied at the sound of his name. “What is it--?”

He came to a halt, taking a moment to process the peculiar sight approaching him.

Not too far away from them, Ulfar and Eivor saw Eirik limping towards the temple, practically dragging his feet through the snow. His labored breathing trudged along to the rhythm of his heavy footsteps, and his movements were sluggish with exhaustion. The main detail that caught Ulfar’s attention though, was the fresh trail of blood dotting the ground in his wake.

“Eirik!” The raider exclaimed in alarm, immediately rushing over to him. He supported the man’s weight in his arms, lifting him up as he spoke.

“Hey,” he called out, trying to get his attention. “Hey! Can you hear me? What happened to you?”

Eirik weakly gripped onto one of Ulfar’s arms, staring him in the eye. “...K-Kjotve. He’s... here. You must--” a numbing pain racked his body, coaxing a groan out of him.

“We must what?” Ulfar asked. But Eirik had already moved on.

“...please,” the injured man whispered, “keep my mother safe. Tell her... it isn’t...”

He fell limp in the old warrior’s embrace, passing onto the next realm with his final words trapped in his throat. His body keeled forward as his spirit departed from its shell, and upon greeting death, Eirik tumbled into the snow, revealing a number of arrows protruding from his back.

Before Ulfar had any time to mourn though, the rallying cry of a horn suddenly blared in the distance, calling for Bjornheimr’s warriors as Kjotve’s men emerged from the shadows.

The sounds of battle quickly rose throughout the village, and down at the wedding, Eivor could see Sigurd rushing to defend their people, storming around with a sword in his hand.

“Shit!” Ulfar cursed, rising from the ground. He whipped his axe out of its sheathe and placed a protective hand over Eivor’s chest, urging him to take shelter.

“Eivor, gather any survivors you can find and take them to the longhouse! I’ll join the other warriors and protect the wedding.”

“Wait!” The young man protested, grabbing Ulfar’s wrist just before he could leave.

The raider glared at him with a bewildered look in his eye. “What is it?”

“...Let me defend the wedding. I’ll go in your stead.”

Ulfar clearly wasn’t on board with the idea. “What? This is no time to be arguing! You need to go, Eivor. Now!”

“Please,” he insisted. “I need to make sure Sigurd’s safe. He’s down there with the rest of my family. Let me do it. I’ll do whatever it takes to get them out of there alive. You know I will.”

The older man quickly shifted his mind, not willing to waste another second.

“...Fine,” he said in a hasty tone. “Do what you must, but do it carefully. I don’t want you following Eirik’s footsteps today. And don’t forget about the alliance, Eivor. I know how you feel about Sigurd, but we cannot lose him for the sake of this war either. Do you understand?”

Eivor gave him a firm nod. “I understand.”

“Good. Then may the Defender of Midgard guide our hand today, and may we pummel Kjotve’s skull with an axe at last.”

“Odin watch over you, Ulfar.”

The raider parted ways with the young man. “Odin watch over us all.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

THE WEDDING

Sprinting towards the ruined festival, Eivor fought his way through clumps of Kjotve’s warriors as they stormed the village and set fire to the buildings, staining the sky red with their morbid flames. Vivid sparks could be seen erupting from black pillars of smoke, and in the distance, the young warrior saw nothing but clouds of ash obscuring the path.

It looked like Ragnarök itself had been unleashed on Bjornheimr. Shrieks of panic filled the air like an orchestra gone mad, and just sitting on the horizon, Eivor spotted the striking silhouettes of Kjotve’s ships latching onto their docks.

It was a view the young man had been dreading for the past decade of his life. The memory of his parents’ deaths remained fresh in his head, and terror paralyzed his heart at the idea of losing a loved one again.

...But no. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t. Ulfar was depending on him to protect everyone at the wedding, and that was exactly what he’d do. Even if it meant sacrificing himself. He wouldn’t simply stand by and watch people die like before. This time, he would defend them.

Heaving his axe with a ferocious amount of effort, Eivor let out a rough shout as he lodged the sturdy blade into the neck of a raider, cutting them down within a heartbeat.

By now, it looked like Kjotve’s men had taken control of the wedding and gathered a handful of captives, lining them up as if they were livestock for sale. They had bound them with numerous bundles of rope and shoved them down to their knees, forcing them to watch their attackers from below.

What concerned Eivor the most though, was that the raiders were no longer alone.

Towering over the rest of the scene like a lion searching for its prey, the Wolf-Kissed spotted the very same man who slew his parents all those winters ago, now staring down at the prince he loved. His face had been folded with wrinkles due to years of waging countless wars, but the rest of his stature remained as intimidating as ever.

Eivor felt like a scared little boy again just by looking at him. Kjotve’s mere presence was more than enough to bring back a flood of unwanted nightmares, and the young man suddenly found himself questioning whether or not he was fit for this task. He still heard his mother’s desperate cries thundering in his head as if she were there, and the haunting view of his father’s lifeless gaze had been branded into the back of his eyelids.

“Do not abandon him or his memory,” Eivor thought to himself, repeating Ulfar’s words from when he was just a boy. “You wish to reclaim the honor your father lost? Then you must fight for it.”

A sprout of fury flared up in his chest at the profound memory, and he shouted across the battlefield at Kjotve himself, speaking with a level of rage he had never experienced before.

“Kjotve!” Eivor roared, leading the man to come to a halt.

The gargantuan raider turned around to see who was calling his name and peered through the smoke, narrowing his eyes as he tried to identify their face.

Emerging from the sea of fire, Kjotve saw nothing but a lone warrior prowling towards him with a strangely familiar axe in his grip, sauntering across the blood-stained dirt. Gusts of wind distorted the ash blanketing the battlefield around him, and behind strands of golden hair, Kjotve spotted a pair of arctic orbs glaring back at him, wide-open with wrath.

Before he could address the warrior though, his son stepped forward first.

“What do you want, bacraut?” Gorm barked, pointing a finger at them. “A blade to the gullet, perhaps?”

Kjotve held out an arm. “Hold, Gorm. Don’t bare your fangs just yet. There’s something... different about this one.”

The man scoffed. “Different? He looks just like every other ‘warrior’ in this village to me. Weak and cowardly.”

“...Perhaps,” Kjotve said, glancing down, “but that axe...” He approached the stranger. “You there! Where did you find that weapon? Who are you?”

The blonde viking stopped in his tracks, keeping his gaze nailed onto the other man as the entire wedding froze to see what was going on.

“My name is Eivor.” He announced, his voice resembling the hiss of a serpent. “...You know me.”

Kjotve grinned immediately upon hearing the name and strolled towards his opponent, meeting him in the middle.

“...Eivor? The son of Varin and Rosta? Heh. My, my. You were just a little boy the last time we met, Wolf-Kissed. I must say, I’m surprised to see you drawing breath even after all these years. You’ve certainly grown a lot since then. But alas... you are still no more than a child chasing after his father’s honor. It seems you’ll never learn.”

Eivor clenched his hand around the grip, doing his best to keep his anger at bay.

“...I have no interest in your taunts, Kjotve. I’ve only come for my family. Let them go.”

The older man laughed and planted his battle axe in the ground, resting an elbow on its hilt. “And tell me, Eivor -- why exactly would I do that?”

The young warrior raised his own weapon, looking at the line of captives sitting behind Kjotve. “I may have been defenseless during our first encounter, but don’t think I’ll cower away from you now. I will take my family back, with or without shedding your blood.��

Sigurd’s head perked up at the response, and he struggled in his restraints. “Eivor...! Don’t!”

Kjotve noticed the prince’s reaction, allowing him to think of a different approach. He doubted there would be much difficulty in slaying the Wolf-Kissed one-on-one, but he wanted to indulge in another method.

“Hmm,” he said in thought, “you wish to rescue these fools from their fate? Perhaps... there is a way we could arrange that.”

Gorm snapped his head in Kjotve’s direction. “Father!”

“Silence, boy.” He commanded. “These are my slaves. Not yours. I will bargain with them as I please.”

Kjotve shifted his focus back to Eivor, presenting his idea. “Listen to me carefully, son of Varin. I am willing to offer your people a way out of this, but only one. It’s your choice whether you take it or leave it.”

Eivor grew impatient. “Just say what you have to say and be done with it.”

The slaver smirked maliciously. “As you wish.”

Kjotve tugged his weapon out of the ground and rested the blade on his shoulder, preparing it for battle. “...Lay down your axe. Surrender yourself to me, and I will let everyone else go, including your beloved prince here.”

Eivor fell silent at the demand and clenched his jaw in spite, almost having to stop himself from laughing at the absurdity of the request.

“You expect me to believe you?” He nearly growled. “After you spewed the same lies to my father, and broke your oath to him? No. I won’t do it.”

Kjotve lifted a brow. “Are you certain, Wolf-Kissed? You could be right, of course... but are you willing to bet your family’s lives on it?”

The young warrior’s expression twisted into a glower. “...You are a rat, Kjotve. A dishonorable wretch that will forever serve as a sheathe to Nidhoggr’s fangs...!”

The raider merely chuckled at the response, undeniably amused by his enemy’s distress.

“Well, if you prefer, I could always erase your doubt and simply kill them all right now.” Kjotve positioned his blade under Sigurd’s chin. “Starting with him.”

Eivor felt the urge to leap forward then and there, but held himself back.

“Don’t... touch him.” He whispered, almost sounding feral. The slaver smiled back at him.

“You know what you have to do to stop me.”

The Wolf-Kissed gritted his teeth in rage and strengthened his hold on the axe, practically crushing it in his grip as his knuckles turned white.

He couldn’t believe it. After thirteen years of planning for revenge and fending off the grief that came with his loss, he was now being forced into the exact same position as his father, and being humiliated like a thrall. Everyone’s lives depended on the sacrifice of his honor, but to comply would’ve meant giving up everything he had fought for.

What would happen to Eivor if he accepted the deal? What would Kjotve do with him? Would he truly keep his word and set the captives free? Or would he simply cut the young warrior’s throat, and demolish the rest of the village once he was dead?

Eivor didn’t know what to do anymore. He couldn’t bear the idea of watching anything happen to Sigurd or his family, but he also despised the thought of failing to avenge his previous one.

Kjotve was the one who took everything from him. He destroyed his home, his childhood, and his life. To spare him now would’ve been an even greater shame than the one his father suffered.

But still... he loved Arngeir. He loved his sisters. And most of all, he was starting to fall in love with Sigurd. He had gotten so used to a world with the prince’s influence, that to see him drop out of it now would’ve devastated him.

He couldn’t allow him to die. He couldn’t disappoint Ulfar, and he couldn’t let the alliance crumble. Sigurd’s life carried far more value than his, and at this point, Eivor was willing to do anything to preserve it.

So, without saying another word, the young man reluctantly bent down towards the ground and gazed at Sigurd with an apologetic look, gently placing the axe right by his feet.

“No!” The prince exclaimed, his eyes widened with panic. “What are you doing? Pick up your axe, Eivor! Remember what this snake did to your father! Don’t let him corner you into his trap--!”

“--Quiet, you!” Gorm commanded, striking Sigurd over the head.

Meanwhile, Kjotve ignored his prisoner’s cries and grinned in satisfaction, focusing entirely on the man in front of him.

“It seems you were correct, Gorm,” he remarked. “He is the same as everyone else. Weak... and cowardly. Just like his father. I should’ve guessed.”

Eivor’s glare only sharpened. “I did what you asked, Kjotve. Now, do your part and set them free!”

Kjotve shook his head in a patronizing manner, laughing shamelessly at the unarmed viking. A sheen of deceit plastered itself onto his barbaric smile, and simply by looking at him, the young man knew he had been fooled.

“Did you really think it’d be any different this time? I almost pity you, Wolf-Kissed. You’re an even bigger fool than Varin was. I suppose you’ll be joining him and your mother in Helheim, then. Send them my regards.” He turned to his son, bellowing a new list of orders at him. “Gorm! Take the strongest ones back to the ship alive. We can make use of them. As for the rest -- kill them all. We’ll leave their corpses for the ravens to feed.”

Gorm began strolling towards the prisoners. “With pleasure.”

“Wait!” Eivor shouted. But it was too late.

Within the blink of an eye, the man had already unsheathed his blade and pulled Randvi’s head back by the hair, preparing to slit her throat. Just before he could carry out Kjotve’s commands though, a lone arrow suddenly bolted through the air and planted itself into his shoulder, sending him reeling to the ground.

He flailed around for a moment and flicked his eyes around in shock, only to see the archer face-to-face once the chaos finally settled.

It was Ulfar.

“Cut them down!” The raider yelled, his voice thundering across the village.

Charging out from the smoke, Eivor saw a small army of men storming the wedding as Kjotve’s people froze in bewilderment, giving their clan the exact opening they needed to shift the balance of this fight.

The warriors immediately seized the battlefield and overwhelmed it like a fire feeding on kindling, driving their weapons through the hearts of their enemies. They hunted them down like animals running through a field, and showered the invading raiders with a hurricane of arrows.

As for Kjotve himself, the man fled to his longship with as many prisoners as possible and nearly dragged Gorm onto the boat, signaling his men to leave Bjornheimr. It was evident to him that he was now on the losing side of this fight, but even then, he still managed to take a group of captives that he was no doubt going to sell -- including Thora.

Ulfar, on the other hand, was busy freeing what prisoners remained. He had already released Randvi from her binds and was now carving his way through Sigurd’s rope, setting the prince free.

“Are you hurt?” The older man asked, helping Sigurd up to his feet.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” He blurted out, eager to contribute to the battle. But Ulfar wasn’t ready to let him go just yet.

“Where’s Eivor?” He questioned. “I was able to see Kjotve and Gorm, but I couldn’t find the boy from where I stood.”

Sigurd gestured in the opposite direction. “He’s over there. He’s--” The man came to an abrupt pause, leading Ulfar to follow his line of sight.

“What is it?” The raider said, but it didn’t take him long to realize.

Kneeling in the dirt, Ulfar found Eivor sitting somberly amongst all the pandemonium, seemingly unfazed by the death and destruction surrounding him. His eyes were locked onto the axe lying beside his legs, and just by observing the boy, the old warrior could tell that he was trapped in another battle of his own.

Eivor just let his parents’ murderer escape for a second time. After thirteen years of waiting for him. He had been tricked by the same deal his father fell prey to, and now, there was nothing but humiliation weighing him down.

He felt like a complete failure. His honor had been stolen from him once again, and now all of Bjornheimr was going to know it. They would see him as a coward for deciding to drop his weapon, and Kjotve’s forces would only grow stronger because of it.

But the part that stood out the most to Ulfar, was the fact that he did it all for Sigurd. Eivor had only known the man for about two weeks, and yet, he was willing to give up Valhalla itself in exchange for his survival. He knew the possibility of Kjotve going back on his word was likely, and even then, he still decided to take the risk.

Just how much did this man mean to him, exactly? Ulfar was aware of Eivor’s feelings for Sigurd, but he never expected the two of them to share such an adamantine bond. He could see now that the young man was truly in love with the prince... and it frightened him to the core.

This would not bode well for the marriage. Eivor could try to conceal his emotions as much as he wanted, but Ulfar already knew it would be for naught. It was impossible to ignore a love as strong as this, and he could only pray that the alliance wouldn’t fall apart so long as Eivor’s affections remained alive.

He supposed the best thing he could do now was guide the young man. Ulfar didn’t plan on telling anyone about his secret, but he also knew it’d be foolish to let his feelings roam free.

Kjotve was still out there. His army was still growing. And now, he had Thora as a slave.

If the people of Bjornheimr wanted to rescue her from his grasp, they would need the help of Styrbjorn’s entire clan to assault the slaver’s fortress. It would require every single warrior they had under their command, and Ulfar didn’t intend on letting Eivor’s hidden relationship put Thora’s safety in jeopardy.

He just hoped he wouldn’t hurt the boy by doing so. It was clear to him how much the Wolf-Kissed cared about Sigurd, so the last thing he wanted was to push the two of them apart.

But Arngeir needed Ulfar to maintain a clear mind. He needed his pragmatism. He needed his rationality. That was the whole reason he had kept Ulfar at his side for almost two decades now.

As much as it pained the old man, he would have to approach this objectively. He would have to keep Eivor away from Sigurd’s company, and ensure that the alliance remained strong.

Otherwise, he had no idea how the future would unfold. If anyone learned about their secret affair, Ulfar assumed that all hell would break loose. The friendship between their clans would instantly shatter, and the fires of a second war would likely ignite.

It was a dilemma that Ulfar wouldn’t wish on anyone in a paternal position, but alas, it was the one the gods had granted him. So, with a quick shift of the mind, the warrior brought his attention back to the battle at hand and left Eivor alone, allowing him to regather his thoughts.

He assumed the boy would be in a state of distress after the day’s events, and he didn’t want to be the reason he finally tipped over the edge.

Ulfar had enough to worry about at the moment, and he imagined it was just the beginning.

#hjarta #assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #sigurd styrbjornson #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfsmal #eivor varinsson #male eivor #sigurd x male eivor #ac valhalla fanfic

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alexandrablake · 4 years

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love, jj

Prompts: 88. “I never meant to fall in love with you, I just did” from this prompt list! Pairing: Jemily, technically Word Count: 2,456 Warnings: Mentions of death. A/n: Red (@hurricanejjareau) picked this prompt. thank you, ily. that is all.

April 29, 2011 Emily,

Hey. It’s me. I’m sure you can tell by my handwriting. I’ve had you look over enough of my reports that I’d honestly be kind of disappointed if you didn’t. And before you say anything, yes, I know we play Scrabble, but that doesn’t count. I need to talk to you. God, Emily, I just need to talk to you. To see that you are alive, that you are well, and, honestly, to see that you are real.

These past few weeks without you have been awful. Everything is different. I’m spending more and more time around the office. The way we all skirt around your name like you never even existed is just painful. For a while there, I almost started to believe you weren’t real. And that’s a big fear of mine- to wake up one morning not worrying about you, because I know that’s all you have right now. You have Hotch and I thinking about you, and that’s it.

Depressing. And nothing I need to tell you, but it’s not like you’ll read these anyways. It’s nearing two months since you “died.” I don’t think Rossi has processed it yet. Penelope is a shell of her former self coping. Even Ashley seems distraught. Spence has dealt with far too much trauma, and yet, I’ve never seen him like this. He’s been at my house everyday this week, crying and then sleeping on the couch. It’s heart wrenching, and it takes everything in me to not tell him you’re okay. That you’re alive. But I can’t, not with Doyle still out there, always being a danger to you.

But, my God, is Morgan the worst to be around right now. Second to only Penelope Garcia, you were Derek’s favorite person in the team. No point hiding it, you’re all profilers and I spend way too much time around you guys.. He’s gutted. Honestly, I think he’s the one person here who has really “accepted” that you’re gone. Even Hotch is off. But not Morgan. And that’s the horrifying part. He’s the exact same person that he was before you left, but now his smiles are a little too wide and his gestures are a little too exaggerated. It’s terrifying to be around.

I guess that leaves me. I’m doing okay. Miss you everyday, but I feel bad every time I do because I know the truth. I know where you are (kind of) and I know that you are alive. They buried you. They know where you are, too, but for them, that’s six feet under.

Love, JJ

March 1st, 2011 Emily,

Me again. Today was better, I think. I know we like to say that the serial killers never take a vacation, but they seem to be on one right now. It’s just a bunch of consulting on relatively low level cases. Thank God, because I don’t think any of them could handle a case right now. Reid didn’t sleep at my house last night, which is improvement, I think. He definitely didn’t sleep, but I’ll take what I can get. Derek is almost worse.

It’s lonely here without you. Penelope isn’t herself, and I find her sitting at your desk all the time. She’s stopped staring at your photo constantly and now avoids the hallway with all the memorials so she doesn’t have to walk by you. She’s in her office even more than she normally would be. There’s boxes of cupcakes being brought in all the time. She’s an absolute and utter wreck.

You remember that feeling we all felt when Haley was killed? When we all stood around her casket and watched with teary eyes as Hotch and Jack said their final goodbyes? The feeling that nothing would be okay again? Yeah. That’s about what’s happening now, but now it’s not just Hotch feeling like his life is over. It’s all of us.

And God, you must be so lonely.

Love, JJ

April 10th, 2011 Emily,

Today was an all-time low. Everywhere I looked, there you were. Oh, there you were grabbing coffee after an all-nighter spent at my house. Oh, there you are, legs dangling over the side of the chair you’re lounging in because you don’t know how to sit properly. Oh, there you are, smiling at Hotch as you talk animatedly in his office about God knows what. Oh, there you are, downing shots with Rossi.

Your ghost was everywhere over this office, over my life. You were this office, you were everything. I can’t go anywhere to escape you. How can you have a ghost when you aren’t even dead?

April 11th, 2011 Emily,

Another crying Spencer night. They’re off on their second case, a spree killing in Tampa. I don’t know. At this point, I’m kind of lost. I’m spending far too much time at that office even though I don’t work there because it’s one of my last connections to you. I just… miss you, I guess. No, I know I miss you.

I just can’t stop feeling guilty. I’m causing all this pain in the team and in all your loved ones. I was the one who told Hotch you survived, I was the one who suggested you “die.” This is all my fault.

Hotch told me he was doing assessments of the team. That shouldn’t be happening. You should be there. I’m not going to ask for the results, and I don’t think I would be allowed to if I asked. I just don’t want to face the reality of what I’ve done.

Love, JJ

May 15th, 2011 Emily,

Hey, it’s been a while. Not much has changed. I haven’t been to the BAU since my last letter. I can’t face them anymore. I can’t sit within those walls that seep of you. I can’t face you.

God damnit, Prentiss! Why did you go after Doyle? You knew we could have helped! This could have all been avoided if you would have trusted us!

May 15th, 2011 Emily,

I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I just miss you. A lot.

May 22nd, 2011 Emily,

With you being gone, I’m starting to realize how much I depended on you. You were my person. If I had a problem, I came to you. If I wanted to get drunk, I came to you. If I wanted to get a break from the overwhelmingness of the testerone of our workplaces, I came to you. If I just wanted to escape, I came to you.

I’m still avoiding the BAU as best as I can. Even Hotch and I haven’t been talking. Spence is still coming to my house, though. Still crying. He misses you so much, Prentiss. We all do.

When Elle left, I didn’t think any of us would recover. She hadn’t been there for the longest time, but she was an integral part of the team. But we recovered. Then, when Gideon left, some of us were fine, but Reid? I genuinely thought he would never be the same. And I guess he isn’t, but he still recovered. And now you left. So if the pattern continues, we’ll recover.

But I don’t think I will. Because every waking minute of every day (and even some of the sleeping ones), the thought that we will never catch Doyle haunts me. The thought that I will never see your beautiful face again. The thought that I will never actually get to talk to you again.

They don’t have those thoughts. To them, you are dead, under the ground, declared dead on the table. To them, there’s no chance they’ll ever see you again. So, for them, if we don’t catch Doyle, yes they’ll be irrationally angry because the son of a bitch who killed you is still out there, but catching him never had any more reward than revenge and putting another bad guy in prison where he belongs. They won’t realize that not catching him means they’ll never see you again because they don’t even know that’s an option.

I love you, JJ

June 1st, 2011 Emily,

The worst part of all this is that I know you’re out there, lonely. I would say afraid, but I know you. Emily Prentiss doesn’t get scared, I know. But you’re alone, in a place that isn’t here. All I want to do is help you. And I can’t because if I do, there’s the possibility that I’ll make everything worse.

So, I’m trying to focus on positives: happy memories and good things to happen. Like, the other day, I walked through a market and, when I passed a flower stall, all I smelled was that expensive perfume you used to wear. The stuff you stopped using because it made Reid sneeze? The stuff you still use when we would go out on the town? Smelling it made me want to go out and buy a drink and dance the night away.

And when I was shopping for new shoes for Henry, I saw a pair of boots that I knew you would buy the instant you saw them. They were lace-up, black with a bit of heel (I know your never-ending goal is to get taller), and there was a slight rose decal on the top. I could hear you shouting, “These are men squashing boots!” because you’re never embarrassed in public. I could see the smile you give me, a flash of blinding white teeth. And I knew the smile I would shoot back because happy Emily is my favorite Emily.

I love you, JJ

June 18th, 2011 Emily,

You missed Morgan’s birthday. 38! It was a pretty somber occasion because we all knew that something was missing. And it was the day before your 3 month anniversary of being dead. Garcia tried as best as she could to fill the gap, decorating the bar that Rossi rented out very extravagantly. Material items could never make up the lack of you. We all just ended up getting drunk.

I think it’s really starting to hit Hotch. When I take Henry to hang out with Jack, Aaron’s quiet. Granted, he’s always quiet. (Not around you, though. You always bring out the best in people) This is a different quiet, though. He’s almost silent. I think he’s beating himself up. You know Hotch, anniversaries hit him hard. I think he hoped you would be home now, Doyle staying in the maximum security he belongs in.

But the rest of them are moving on. Spencer isn’t having the breakdowns he used to have. Penelope and I can go out for coffee without there being this heavy weight sitting on us. Ashley even joined us once, and it didn’t feel like she was replacing anyone. Rossi is smiling much more. Morgan is still acting a little fake, and he pulls sleepless nights every now and then, obsessing over the case. But he’s better. He can focus on cases, and Penelope tells me that they can go hang out without him being too absent-minded.

Hotch is the one I’m really worried about. We both remember the aftermath of Haley’s death. The grieving, the silence, the sleepless nights, the constant fidgeting so he could keep his mind of it. That’s what’s happening now. He’s just as worried about you as I am. We both know the possibility of never seeing you again.

That leaves me. Three months later and I wouldn’t say I’m much better than I used to be. I still have trouble hanging around them. I still find myself grabbing my phone to text you something before remembering that I would never get an answer. I still find myself longing for you, for your smile, for your touch.

I love you, JJ

July 17th, 2011 Emily,

I think this will be my last letter. I’ve come to a few realizations, and, even though I still desperately need to talk to you, writing these are one of them.

One: This isn’t healthy for me- nothing about this is. 5 stages of grief. We both know them, they have to do with the unsubs all the time. These letters are classified as denial. And I need to get through all five. Yes, you aren’t dead, but you may as well be. I can’t see you, I can’t talk to you, I can’t know where you are. There’s a death certificate. You were “buried.” And I need to get to acceptance. I need to accept that I may never see you again. I can’t just exist in this state of limbo forever.

Two: You are okay, and you can care for yourself. I guess this goes under the first one, but I don’t really care. You don’t get as close as we did are and not have an ever present worry of “what if she’s not okay? What if I’m not there to protect her? What if she needs my help?” But that’s where the denial thing comes in. I think that I’ve been doing that to myself because it keeps you near to me. It keeps you alive. Because if I can worry about you, there is still a you to worry about. Therein lies the issue. There is no you to worry over. To the world, you are dead. And I need to accept that. Because the you that does exist is perfectly capable and doesn’t need my help.

Three: Not having you here is the worst part of this all. Technically, you were gone before you left because I left, but we still talked and hung out. We still went to bars on alternating Saturdays. But we can’t have any of that anymore. And I think that’s what made me realize the last thing.

I am completely, utterly in love with you. And that’s terrifying. Unrequited love stories are the worst to read, but here I am, writing one. I loved how hot you looked when you tied your hair up. I love the way you carried yourself. I love the way you smiled at me when Reid went on one of his tangents. I love the way you looked at me when I delivered the profile. I love our hushed talks on the plane when everyone else is asleep, talking about everything and nothing.

The worst part? You are the missing piece in this puzzle. You, Emily, were the one thing I never took into account when planning my life out. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, I just did. Yet, here we are- me, writing crappy letters admitting my feelings, and you, halfway across the world, completely unaware of the havoc you’ve wreaked on me.

I love you, JJ

#if this is the second time you saw this #no it isn't #jemily #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jj x emily #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #eva's 25 days of christmas #advent calendar of fics (ACoF)#eva writes occasionally

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colonel-insomniac · 3 years

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Symphony

Hey geeks, this is my first time writing for miraculous ladybug, but i think this is a good debut piece. This was written to the song “I Hear a Symphony” by Cody Fry, so do with that what you will. Anyways, this is dedicated to @pawsomelybuggy. Onwards friends.

TW: CHARACTER ILLNESS AND TERMINAL ILLNESS

“I used to hear a simple song…”

Sure, Luka was considered a “villain,” but he felt it was a classic “right reason executed in the wrong way” sort of thing. He wasn’t a villain because he wanted the Earth to shatter and crumble. And if people knew how guilty he genuinely felt when he stole the snake miraculous behind Ladybug’s back, their opinion on him might change.

He shoved his hands in his pocket, head downcast as the grey sky above released its crystal drops. Luka scoffs, because why should the universe even be surprised at this point? He would assume that the universe was detached from all the second chancing he’s done as Viperion. He hates the black suit he’s currently wearing, and the uncomfortable pointy shoes he walks the streets of Paris in. But for Adrien Agreste, he would do anything. Basically almost has done everything. Nothing’s worked.

Adrien had been sick for a while. At first, no one was sure what was wrong, not even Adrien, who brushed it off as a cold. But things progressively got worse, to the point where he was consistently fatigued and weak. He became a shell of what was the model of good health, frail and bony. It all came to a head when he was at the Couffaine residence, practicing in Kitty Section, when tiny red spots covered his skin, bruises littering the spaces in between. No one should be able to bruise that much unless something severe was going on. Everyone had thought maybe Mr. Agreste had overstepped a boundary and gotten physical in some fit of rage, so no one was prepared for the verdict they got.

“Leukemia.” The doctor said. Instantly, Luka felt as though the air was knocked out of him, and would have fallen to his knees if it weren’t for Marinette and Alya standing on either side of him.

He had both wanted to see Adrien, and desperately wanted to turn around and run, jump in the Seine, hide in his room. Something so that he wouldn’t have to face the fact that Adrien had this terrible sickness. Luka had resurfaced to hear the grim news—Adrien hadn’t been diagnosed in time to stop it. The doctor’s said the most they could do would be to make what time he had left comfortable.

Then came the one time Gabriel Agreste has probably ever been kind to his child. He immediately abandoned his work to come to the hospital, his face still stone cold and blank as he threatened the hospital if they didn’t at least try to help Adrien.

He thinks back to when Adrien started losing his hair. He had been so upset that he wouldn’t let anyone in the room, had his bodyguard see to it that that stayed true. Luka still doesn’t understand how he’d managed to get in that day, but he remembers walking in quietly, seeing the side of Adrien’s head, his hair nearly gone. A look of desperation was etched on his face, with a mixture of hopelessness as he stared out the window.

“That was until you came along…”

He’d been mad at first, and Luka had felt guilty about disrespecting Adrien’s wishes. But he knew, more than anything, that being alone was worse than disobeying what the boy wanted. Luka had given him his first beanie that day, the first of many to come. He’d also given Adrien a rose, white with a black ribbon.

Long after the rose had wilted and been thrown out, Adrien had kept the black ribbon, and had it tied to his wrist like a bracelet. The gesture had made Luka’s heart skip a beat, and so he kept bringing Adrien roses, if only to bring a smile to the boy’s face.

Through this, no one had seen Chat Noir, which on a whole was not an issue, Hawkmoth hadn’t really created any new akumas. Mostly, they had seen the return of Mr. Pigeon, who was an easy person to best, someone Ladybug could defeat on her own. Chat had attempted to show up the first couple times, but upon seeing his pale tone and unatural sweat plastering his hair to his forehead, Ladybug had promptly told him to go home and rest. He’d had to be pushed off the scene, but after the third or fourth time, had stopped showing up. Ladybug had voiced her concern to Alya as the author of the Ladyblog, but no one had seen any trace of the cat themed superhero.

“Now in its place is something new, I hear it when I look at you…”

Luka numbly walked on, not paying attention to his surroundings. There was no point, in all honesty, not when he knew where he was heading. It played out this way dozens of times now, so he figures he can afford to be absorbed by his thoughts, at least until he reaches… he shakily inhales, unable to admit even to himself where he was headed. The rain fell faster, the universe seemingly weeping with him, mourning the loss of a soul that definitely did not deserve their allotted fate.

Luka was barely able to bite back sobs, his brisk pace halting to a complete stop as he hugged his sides. The world felt permanently grey, endless and hopeless.

Those last days with Adrien the first time were the worst. They were cast in a golden glow, the spark that had always lived in Adrien’s eyes had dimmed. He seemed tired, but scared. Luka stayed by him practically 24/7, the boy leaning into the warmth that Luka’s body provided. “I’m scared.” He whispered, and Luka bit his lip hard enough to bleed. What were you supposed to say to someone who’s dying? “It’ll all be okay, except that it won’t because you won’t be here?” Absolutely not, instead he opted for “I’m scared too.” Days later, and Adrien would succumb to the cancer, leaving Luka in what felt like a vacuum devoid of all happiness.

Much to Luka’s torment, the boy had passed while Luka was asleep, and assumingly was asleep as well. At least, that’s what Luka had convinced himself so he could find some sort of peace. He had woken up to a voice, pleading for Adrien to not be gone, but when he opened his eyes, he couldn’t see anyone. He’d soon find out that Adrien was Chat Noir, and it was Plagg who had been begging for Adrien.

“With simple songs, I wanted more, perfection is so quick to bore…”

Plagg had loved the boy dearly, it was evident in the way he didn’t want to part with the boy, and would have rather been buried with Adrien over getting a new holder, Luka, having been Viperion previously, knew exactly what Plagg was, and scooped him in his hands, gingerly slipping Adrien’s ring off as nurses rushed in to try and resuscitate Adrien. Soon, Luka found his way to the roof, and sat dangling his legs off the roof, silently crying and sharing the pain with possibly the only other being to understand what fully loving Adrien felt like.

That’s where he first had gotten the idea to go rogue and steal Sass to save Adrien. Plagg was quick to discourage the idea, but his hesitance was enough to push Luka in the opposite direction. Getting Sass was easier than he thought it’d be, and that was when he rewound time for the first time. He was back to holding Adrien, and quickly rewound again, to get to a couple days before. This is where he’d start again.

For the first hundred times, he quickly realized he was dancing on a thin line of morality. Attended Adrien’s funeral about a hundred times. Rewound time dozens more. Nothing changed besides Ladybug realizing the missing miraculous and declaring Viperion an enemy. People grew to hate him time and time again, and not once had he bothered to try and clear his name, he just took it. Over and over again, publicly fighting Ladybug at one point and barely hanging onto his sanity through the fight.

“You are my beautiful, by far, our flaws are who we really are…”

And now he walks again, failed again, Plagg and Sass peeking out of his breast pocket with sad eyes. By this time, he’d told Adrien several times that he was in love with him, kissed his cheek dozens of times, and just held the boy to comfort him many more times. Nothing ever changed and Luka was getting to a point in his frustration where he wanted to throw something, and being a generally mellow person, that was saying something.

Getting lightheaded at the thought of being in that field again, he sat down, putting his head in his hands and trying to regulate his breathing. Luka glanced at his wrist, at the snake miraculous ready to pull him back again whenever he decides to. Normally, he’d rather stand and get through this feeling, but he simply just does not care anymore. If it’s going to rain on him let it rain. The only thing that matters anymore is saving Adrien. And that’s all he can think of doing anymore.

He can’t make it to the funeral, he knows that now. He might have forced himself through the torture of it several times before, but it’s worn him down. Luka looks down at the kwamis, mutters a monotonous “sorry,” and pulls the bracelet.

“I used to hear a simple song, that was until you came along…”

The feeling of light ripping through his body is impossible to get used to, but he soon opens his eyes to find himself in the middle of a hospital courtyard dappled in sunlight falling through the trees. Adrien sits beside him, had begged Luka to let him sit in the grass and not the wheelchair, so now the both sit in the grass. The blonde haired boy leans against the tree behind him, eyes closed and a peaceful smile gracing his face. It brought Luka a hollow joy to see his love smile, if only for a little.

“Luka.” Adrien cracks open an eye, a hint of a mischievous glint residing in them. He patiently waits for Luka to muster the courage to respond. When he does, Adrien swiftly pulls two blades of grass to his lips and blows, creating a piercing whistle. Luka jumps, startled, but mulls over the resonating melody that it creates in the world. Perfectly descriptive of Adrien as always, and that never ceases to baffle Luka.

Adrien laughs, the sound pulling a smile from Luka. Later, he gets scolded for giving into Adriens pleas to sit in the grass. “What harm can it do,” he snaps. “He’s dying and we all know it. Why shouldn’t he be able to enjoy what little time he has left.” That gets the nurse to stop and nod. Maybe it’s just the tears in Luka’s eyes coupled with the desperation and sorrow in his voice.

Adrien holds Luka’s hand in his after the blue haired boy convinces Adrien to eat some food. Luka has some bright green nail polish on the bed tray per request of Adrien, who had conveyed to Luka he at least wanted to be rebellious in his dying moments a couple days prior. Luka had withdrawn after, much to Adrien’s displeasure, and had then found how affected Luka was from all this. Breaking out of his trance, Luka feels the weight of Adrien’s head on his shoulder, and Luka turns to press his cheek against his head.

Luka stares at the bottle of green polish before raising his knee to put Adrien’s hand on it. “Hold still so I don’t mess up,” he warns Adrien, but has a feeling the other boy will do something to mess him up anyways.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Adrien responds, just minutes before he jerks his hand, resulting in a bright green streak across his hand.

“You took my broken melody, and now, I hear a symphony…”

Days later, and the outcome doesn’t change. Luka resets time again.

Adrien cups Luka’s cheek in his hand, his cool palm causing a stir in Luka, who subconsciously leaned into the embrace. “You look tired, dear.” Adrien mumbled. Luka squeezed his eyes tight so Adrien wouldn’t have to see him cry.

With a shaky inhale, Luka leaned down, resting his head against Adrien’s shoulder. ‘I’m so tired. Please, stay with me this time.” He pleads, knowing it’s not up to Adrien to decide.

“I promise I won’t.” Adrien whispers, wrapping his arms around Luka.

Many times later, and the doctors finally find a viable solution.

“And now, I hear a symphony.”

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #chat noir #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #miraculous ladybug and chat noir #prompts #rena rouge #nino lahiffe #does it hurt #please #feedback #Yknow #I #lukadrien

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redxxstrings · 3 years

Text

so you don’t get tired of me telling you “i love you so much”

1k words || sequel/follow up to this fic i posted the other day help girl i’m so in love with him

she's supposed to be here.

kazuki fiddled absentmindedly with his earpiece, adjusting and readjusting it before letting it dangle around the shell of his ear. while everyone around him was rushing back and forth, getting ready for the concert that was about to start, his mind was elsewhere; his focus on anything but what it needed to be on.

"kazuki." tai's voice broke the rapper from his trance, green eyes that had been scanning the faces backstage for a specific one blinking and flickering over to the band's leader. concern lined his features, his eyebrows furrowed together. "you okay, man? you haven't moved in a while."

normally, kazuki was bouncing off the walls right before showtime. normally, he had too much energy and his adrenaline was off the charts. normally, he was excited and ready to go well before their scheduled start time. but now, he was none of those things — now, he was uncharacteristically silent and still, his face stoic and his eyes troubled.

looking away, back down the hall behind the stage, kazuki shrugged dismissively. "yeah, i'm fine."

"is it because koda isn't here yet?"

hearing him ask — hearing him being read like an open book — made kazuki flinch softly. he bit the tip of his tongue, desperately trying to ignore the burning feeling of tai's gaze being on him. "...yeah." he didn't know why he was so reluctant to admit it — everyone knew by now that he missed her; that her absence had thrown him off its normal balance. "she said she'd be here."

she promised.

"maybe something came up." glancing to the side, he saw tai give him an apologetic smile. "you know she wouldn't miss being here if she could help it."

though he was right, it did little to fix kazuki's mood. if something had come up, why hadn't she called him about it? or texted him? the radio silence made his skin prickle, desperation and anxiety bubbling up beneath the surface. he wanted to see her — he was supposed to see her.

he needed to see her.

"kazuki!"

and then, as if some higher being had heard his pleas, he got what he wanted.

there, at the end of the hall, amidst stage hands and crew members, koda stood. she looked disheveled, like she had run halfway there to make it on time, but on her face was a bright smile that soon reflected itself onto kazuki's. beaming and with newfound energy, he took off in the direction of her, completely disregarding everyone around him — they didn't matter right then; they weren't her.

when he finally — finally; it felt like he was running forever — reached her, kazuki engulfed her in a hug so tight he heard it knock the air out of her. despite that, koda giggled and hugged him back, her nose burying itself into his shoulder and his heart skipping a beat at the feeling.

finally.

"sorry i'm late," she said, her voice partially muffled by his shirt. "i got stuck in traffic."

kazuki didn't have it in him to act like he normally would — whining about how she should have called him; acting so dramatic you would have thought they hadn't seen each other in years as opposed to a few months. he didn't have it in him to be anything but happy — so happy — that she finally here with him in person again. "it's fine." he didn't care about that anymore — it didn't matter anymore. "you're here now."

koda lifted her head up to look at him, the smile still on her face. she was cute — so cute that kazuki barely heard her when she spoke again; when she said something about being happy she was able to make it in time; when all he could do was stare at her and her eyes and the way her mouth moved and—

he was kissing her before he realized it.

she tensed up, though only for a moment — after the initial surprise of his action wore off, she leaned into him and kissed back, her arms tightening around his back. holding back a smile that would have surely been wide enough to break the kiss, kazuki moved his hands up to cup her cheeks as if that might somehow pull her even closer to him.

"kazuki!"

a loud, rough voice made them jump away from each other — only slightly, though; they were still pressed together, tangled up in each other's arms. turning his head in the direction of his name, kazuki's eyes narrowed when he saw ichigo glaring at him from the other end of the hallway. "what do you want?" he snapped back, irritation dripping from his words. "leave me alone."

ichigo's glare hardened even more — if looks could kill, kazuki would have been dead on the spot. "we have a concert to do, dumbass."

sucking his teeth and muttering a curse under his breath, kazuki looked back to koda, an apologetic look replacing the previously annoyed one that had been in his eyes. "...sorry." he leaned his forehead against hers, pouting softly. "i gotta go."

"it's okay." she smiled at him as she removed her arms from around him — the feeling made him pout more; made him consider ditching the concert entirely just to be with her. "good luck~"

"tha—"

"kazuki!"

"i'm fucking coming, dammit!" growling, kazuki snapped his head back to koda, his eyes softening slightly as he watched her giggle at him. "i'll be back."

when she nodded, he pulled his hands away from her face (though not before giving her another kiss) and rushed away from her toward the entrance to the stage where the other members were waiting for him. he skidded to a stop just before them, spinning around on his heel and waving back at koda.

"koda-chan!"

he beamed at her again, so brightly that it could have lit up the whole backstage. even as ichigo grabbed his arm and started dragging him out onto the stage, his smile didn't falter; didn't waver in the slightest.

"i love you!"

#ft. kazuki's abandonment issues and separation anxiety #and his short temper lmao #and a tai and ichigo cameo! rip hinata 😔#mine; writing #kazuki

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inkribbon796 · 3 years

Text

Like a House of Cards Ch. 1: Showtime

Summary: Four heroes have been replaced and their intentions are less than pure. The city is dangling on a knife’s edge over a precipice. Dominoes knocked over as the city tumbles like a house of cards.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

It was a long time coming. A long time coming.

It was early, almost sunrise when Logan and Ethan walked into the base. The door opening like the curtains of a show for them. It was early, the only people who saw them walking in who weren’t already gone on the early patrol were Chase and J.J.

So needless to say, they weren’t in danger of getting caught.

Because the four of them weren’t who they were pretending to be. They were the Suits, sent to replace and impersonate certain heroes they were similar to.

Hearts, Diamonds, Spades, and Clubs. Disguised as heroes meant to protect and save people.

Logan and Ethan walked in, Logan casting a glance to the hidden camera he knew for a certainty was in the entry hall, his pupils displaying with robotic precision and aura tapping against the barriers Marvin and Nate had long since set up as a defense, but since Mare and Lunky had passed by the sensors so many times it didn’t trip an alarm.

Chase and J.J watched them from the communications room, not altering the cameras so that Bing wasn’t tipped off. He’d been conducting his private investigations recently and none of them wanted to tip him off while he was so suspicious of all of them. Since talking to Joan, the android had cleared those in Dark’s family, and Jackie but that was it.

Ethan went into the kitchen to make some coffee as Logan relieved Chase and J.J from the watch and slid into the seat where he performed the duties that the real Logan was supposed to do. This close to their mission point precision was crucial, and any time wasted fighting Bing was a detrimental loss.

Logan was sitting in the communications room, working at one of the computers, when Ethan brought him a coffee. The room was empty except for him.

Ethan walked in, sipping on his coffee, smiling as he set one down for Logan, “So, how’s it going?”

“Without incident,” Logan answered. “You should get to bed, get ready for the next mission?”

“Geez, Sargent Frowns, it’ll all be taken care of,” Ethan took another sip. “Bastards won’t know what hit them.”

Ethan chuckled as he took a couple sips of his coffee, “Well if you don’t mind me I’ll just “go to bed” or whatever.”

Logan nodded and as Ethan was leaving the room, Joan was coming up the hallway.

“You seen any of the Sides recently?” Joan asked Ethan, looking worried.

“Yeah,” Ethan pointed to the door, “Logan’s in the comms room.”

“Is Patton in there with him?” Joan looked a little bit relieved.

“I saw him while I was out on patrol,” Ethan lied to them. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“Get everyone in the base together, we’ve got a security problem,” Joan explained.

“Got it,” Ethan hurried away as Joan walked into the comma room.

“Fucker’s gonna get us caught,” Ethan muttered angrily under his breath, tipping back the rest of his coffee.

Bing and Jackie joined Joan in the comms room with “Logan” and they started talking about another sighting of Spade in downtown Brighton and they wanted to compile information.

Something that was eyebrow raising to Spade because he’d been making his way from Janus and Remus’s house to the heroes’ base. But the real Logan wouldn’t be privy to that information so Spade, pretending to be Logan, did a pretty good impression of being surprised as he exchanged places with Bing so the android could take a seat in front of the computer.

“An’[1] that’s the report,” Jackie concluded.

“It certainly is good information to have if they’re becoming more active again,” Logan told them.

“My thoughts exactly,” Bing pointed some finger guns at Logan. “Here, I’ll get some images I got of the guy.”

“Hey Logan,” Joan smiled at him as Bing was integrating himself with the computer to look for something. “How have things been?”

“They could certainly be improved upon,” Logan commented, turning towards Joan and letting out a long, tired sigh.

“Yeah, I bet they could,” Joan agreed before a blast of magic hit Logan square in the back. Pain rocketed up the Suit’s body and his nanites glitched as Joan and Jackie threw down a disc on either side and Bing’s nanites came up and wrapped around Logan so that when the Suit stopped feeling like he was being used as a live wire, he was trapped.

When Logan turned his head he saw that Marvin was standing at the door, magic at his fingertips. The Suit was literally and figuratively surrounded. His eyes and glasses glitched, “Something always gets in the way.”

“He’s covered in nanites,” Bing warned.

“My spell should have ripped his illusion off,” Marvin told them. “I can hit him again.”

Logan looked down at the nanite constructed wires and cords trapping him and rolled his eyes, then he looked up at Joan, “Do you mind telling me what gave me away, for data correlation’s sake?”

Joan held up their phone, “Morality doesn’t use punctuation when he types, he barely uses words at all.”

“Ahh,” Logan commented cooly, smiling. “My mistake. I always tend to forget his atrocious insistence against punctuation is the only awful part of him.”

“Where’s Logic?” Jackie demanded. “Why are yeh here? Are yeh Spade or some demon? ‘Cause this is a shite time ta do this.”[2]

“Now why would I tell any of you,” Logan threatened.

“Yeh can tell us or we’ll beat the shite outta yah,”[3] Jackie threatened right back. “Logic’s been through enough shite lately ta e’en tolerate this.”[4]

“Oh trust me,” “Logan” frowned. “He hasn’t even begun to suffer.”

“An’[1] why should we trust yeh[5]?” Jackie demanded. “What’d yah do ta the real Logic?”[6]

The false Logan let out an amused chuckle, “You all have never even met the real Logan. I’m doing all of you a favor.”

“It’s Spade, fry ‘em[7],” Joan decided.

The snare lit up and electricity began coursing through the Suit’s nanite body, frying his nanite shell by inches.

Locket Payload: Critical Failure Imminent!

In a panic, that was visible on his face, Logan let out a scream as he curled around his chest and an EMP blast came from him that fried almost every electronic in the room, Bing only managing to not have to reset himself. By the time Bing was recovering, he was able to watch with the other three organic beings in the room as “Logan” burst into pixels and a cloud of nanites and shot into the light switch to hide. The young glitch demon curled around a central point of aura protectively in case Bing came after him.

Those precious seconds of hiding let Bing force the controls back on line and initiate a complete physical and electrical lockdown of the base. People, texts, calls, all unable to leave the base.

“Emergency lockdown engaged,” Bing’s voice rang out through the base just as an explosion rocked the building.

It was a small explosive charge that had been placed by Hearts, not enough to blow a hole in the side of the base but enough for the contents of the bomb to set the room on fire.

To set Marvin’s library on fire.

To Marvin’s good luck, Wade was close by and saw the fire starting up as magical tomes and spell ingredients, turning a normal fire into a popping magical one that was threatening to burn the entire base down.

The fire alarm and the sprinkles kicked up, causing further damage to the books.

Wade swore as he tried putting out the magical fire.

At the sound of the explosion, Marvin and Jackie raced over and Marvin screamed in agony as he helped put out the fire. Nate racing in to help. J.J, Chase, and Ethan came over to help but were pushed back by the others.

It took another minute to get the fire contained and Marvin was kneeling in front of the doorway to his library and looking at the ash and burnt books in horror.

“Sorry, Marv,” Jackie sat down next to his friend.

“They burned my library down,” Marvin said in grief.

“What is going on?” Wade demanded. “Last I heard there was some kind of meeting but when met with Crank, Nate, Average, and J.J the fire alarm went off. Who called the meeting?”

“We did,” Jackie told him, standing up. “It was just bad fookin’ timin’. Spade’s in the base, he got in. It must’a been him who caused the explosions.”[8]

“It’s not Spade,” Bing shouted as he ran down the halls, his nanites still fixing up the patches of metal and wires that had died in the EMP blast. “Or if it is the situation just got much worse ‘cause[9] that’s Logic.”

“What do you mean that’s Logic?” Joan demanded in a panic.

“Either Logic’s been Spade the whole time or Spade infected him with somethin’ ‘cause he’s been actin’ weird for a while,”[10] Bing said. “Lo’s still in the base. I’ve got him cornered in the sprinkler system, but he won’t stay there.”

“How could it possibly be Logan?” Joan demanded in irritated frustration. “He would never.”

“We might not be dealing with the actual Logan,” Nate spoke up, his mind already racing with possibilities. “We might be dealing with the same guy who attack me outside of a bar over a camera of all fucking things.”

“That was his suit right, Logic’s fine,” Joan defended.

Then Nate thought about that, it had been a question that Logan had always been dodgy and evasive on how the logical and scientific hero had wound up with a cursed soul splitter that didn’t work . . .

“Either way he’s got my nanites,” Bing interrupted. “Which explains how Spade got them in the first place. His suit is laced with them.”

“Are yeh[5] sure?” Jackie demanded.

“I’d recognize them anywhere, my Bluetooth was even tryin’[11] ta[12] connect with them,” Bing asserted.

. . . That didn’t . . . Nate was still trying to reason in his head.

“Which is weird because humans can’t use nanites raw,” Bing replied. “Only the Googles an’[1] Anti have the ability ta[12] use my nanites like that.”

“Shit, he’s a glitch!” Mare warned internally. “A damn smart one since he was covering his tracks as he was turning. I knew something smelt off about him. He always smelt like burnt wires and electricity.”

You tell me this now? Nate cursed himself for not realizing it sooner. While Nate was thinking the rest of the heroes were talking.

Nate felt the eye roll, “I always forget you sacks of meat can’t smell aura. I just figured, since he was supposed to be a null, that some other demon or one of the other Sides had their claws in him. The rest of them are dripping with aura.”

“Joan,” Nate spoke up, his voice soft and almost scared.

“Yeah?” Joan sat up.

“How long has Logic been Logic?” Nate asked desperately.

“Always, what kind of question is that?” They asked in return.

“I just have to rule it out, does Logic come from a family of mages? Is anyone else in his family magical.”

Joan paused for an abnormally long amount of time. “No.”

“Okay, that makes sense, being null is recessive,” Nate reasoned. You needed and aura and magic for a soul to become a demon. Logic didn’t have that, ergo he wasn’t a demon.

“Nate,” Mare tried to urge.

“He only targeted Marvin, nothing was stolen, nothing was taken from the computers, he just impersonated him and took off,” Wade reminded.

“The Sides are still gone, what are we gonna do?” Jackie demanded.

“Well when we find him, we’ll ask,” Joan reassured. “Logic’s a level-headed guy, I wish I knew where Morality was, or Princey. They’re able to calm him down.”

“Nate, let me go, and I can scent Logic out, if I don’t find him, then I’m wrong and he’s clear,” Mare tried to bargain.

“Fine,” Nate agreed and Mare broke free and looked around.

“Great,” Marvin growled.

“I’ll be back soon,” Mare didn’t spare Marvin a glance, “sorry about your cache.”

Then Mare stopped and looked at a corner of the wall and floated up to tap at it. “Hey there, don’t think I don’t see you.”

Then he ripped a camera out of the wall.

“Mine are visible,” Bing told him as the demon tossed the camera to the android.

Mare stood next to Nate, “I know, bet you that there are more, and there’s a glitch in the walls. Probably has been for a while now.”

“Is it Anti?” Jackie asked.

“Nah, Anti smells like a thunderstorm that was cooked in the oven too long,” Mare reported. “Young, likes to identify as a male; so King’s kid is out. It’s Logic, I’ve picked up that scent on him before. Maybe it’s a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde thing, or Logic’s always been a spy. Can’t say.”

“Maybe that soul splitter did work after all,” Nate reasoned. “Which means that he’s not wanting to come out ‘cause[9] he’s scared, so I can’t blame him. Just where’d he find the camera? That probably turned him, which makes sense why he likes to hover around the thing, he probably wants the fragments of his soul back.”

“First off, morbid,” Joan held up one of their hands. “And second, I found it at an estate sale. I gave it to Thomas, who—”

Joan trailed off, already knowing they’d made a mistake.

Nate stared at him, “Logic’s name is Logan, who’s Thomas? Is that Princey or Anxiety?”

“Not exactly,” Joan tried to evade.

“What does that mean? Is Logan like a middle name or a name he just prefers more?” Mare asked. “Or was Thomas, Logic’s name before he was split?”

Joan really didn’t want to have this discussion without any of the Sides, but Logan was apparently hiding in the walls and the other Sides were all missing. So maybe this was as good a time as any. “Look, if you’re right and Lo is some kind of demon, which he’s not because Logic is a harmless sweetheart, then we didn’t know because a soul splitter is only supposed to make one demon right?”

The room descended into chilling silence.

“The fook yeh mean one, Logic got like a twin or somethin’?”[13] Marvin demanded.

“More like septuplets,” Joan admitted, holding up seven fingers.

“Oh shit,” Mare realized.

“They all came from the same person?” Nate gasped. Logic. Morality. Creativity. Deceit. Anxiety . . . A glitch. Two showmen. Two empaths. A deal maker. And whatever the hell Orange is.

“I’ve never seen a spilt this clean, or create so many, usually a splitter just makes one and it can’t even do that right,” Nate commented. “But they’re all so lifelike. How powerful of a mage was Thomas?”

“He wasn’t,” Joan tried to explain. “Or at least, I never saw him do anything.”

“Well, at least we know where the other Sides went,” Mare spat through clenched teeth.

“No, no,” Nate cut him off. “That’s not a fight a glitch can win, not on their own. We should just focus on finding Logic and containing him before we accuse him of anything.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Joan agreed.

The heroes and Mare began completely cleaning the room of any cameras or listening devices, whether they were Bing’s or not. Then they made a plan to ensnare Logan. They started by taking out the cameras and bugs in the major room before Bing began actively trying to catch Logan.

It was an endeavor that Bing was not successful in. But the Suit saw an opening and went for the unlocked front door.

When he did, Logan slammed into an invisible barrier, sparks and magic arcing everywhere.

Nate quickly moved in to seal off the containment circle with more salt as Logan was picking himself up.

“Hey, Lo,” Nate knelt down, “rough week?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations

1. And

2. Why are you here? Are you Spade or some demon? Because this is a shit time to do this.

3. You can tell us or we’ll beat the shit out of you

4. Logic’s been through enough shit lately to even tolerate this.

5. you

6. What did you do to the real Logic?

7. them

8. It was just bad fucking timing. Spade’s in the base, he got in. It must have been him who caused the explosion.

9. because

10. Either Logic’s been Spade the whole time or Spade infected him with something because he’s been acting weird for a while

11. trying

12. to

13. The fuck you mean one, does Logic have like a twin or something?

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #Thomas Sanders #Jacksepticeye #Crankgameplays #Markiplier #Natewantstobattle #footnotes #kidnapping mention #Jackieboy Man #Bingiplier #Natemare #Logan Sanders #Joan Stokes #Chase Brody #J.J

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and-the-world-is-quiet-here · 4 years

Text

Is it really drowning if you haven't touched the water?

oops I did it again.........

“Nooooo” she howled in frustration.

She was done. She couldn't do it anymore. She grabbed the cards on the table and shoved them onto the floor. They were stupid, she knew they were stupid, and yet she didn't even know what stupid really meant.

“Done!” she screeched

“Done! Done! Done! Done Done!”

“Cass! Cass no, this isn't okay!” Babs yelled after her but she wasn't listening; she just wanted to get out. She grabbed the handle of the door and pulled until it popped out of the frame fleeing into the dark night.

She didn't know where she was going, and she didn't really care. She just needed to get away. They expected too much. It had been only weeks since that man “fixed her” and 2 days since her mother tried to reverse it. Everything was moving so fast. She couldn't catch up. So she ran. She ran until her surroundings were a blur, just a fast moving image flashing past her. Like her thoughts used to be. God, she couldn't even be alone in her own head anymore.

Everywhere she went he followed her, clinging to her and pulling her back down into the water. Or above it as they would say.

The wind hit her face, blasting her tears right back into her eyes, and chilling her nose until she couldn't feel it. That was good. She hated feeling things.

She stopped and climbed up onto a roof, clearing the fire escape in a single bound. She was somewhere in the narrows. She thought. She couldn't be too shure, Babs said it was a part of the city, the wrong part of her mind said it was a small space, and her, the real her, said it was a loud cramped place with short building and lots of crime, And it smelt like falafels. That meaning seemed the rightest to her but the edges of it were sharp now, not smooth, and it made her head hurt to think about it.

She hated it, what he did to her. He took her thoughts and made them make sense to him, and now they were all out of order. Worse, they were just wrong. She wanted it to go back to the way it was before.

She had tried to be happy, happy like they wanted her to be. But it hadn’t worked so she did something else. She tried to fix herself. Meta humans, telepaths, martial artists. No one could read bodies like she had once before, and no one could teach her how to do it again.

Finally, she had turned to her mother, Shiva, a name that had crept in the shadows of her youth watching, watching and waiting. She asked her mother to fix her, and she failed, the woman who had never failed before. She went through days of brutal training for nothing.

It still hurt to think. It hurt to read, to write. He stranded her in a sea of pain and the people she loved cried tears of joy for her newly found normality.

She hated them.

She loved them.

She cried in her sleep and Babs said she was ”adjusting”. She had grabbed batman by the shoulders and yelled and yelled and he...He smiled like this was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Before he would have known she was screaming “FIX ME! FIX ME!”. But now he ignored it, and acted like she was confused.

So she left.

And yet they wouldn't leave her alone.

She turned around and there he was -Batman in all his freaking glory; she could throw up.

“I brought fries!”

He held the bag up and her stomach growled. They had been going through the stupid cards for so long that Babs forgot to get dinner.

She was hungry.

She was getting soft.

She turned back and ignored him, it would be a good lesson in restraint. But he seemed determined to feed her, coming down and sitting right next to her. He spread out fries, milkshakes, and bat burgers between them.

“Babs said you might be hungry”

she snarled and grabbed a packet of fries. Well, when in Rome.

“Babs also said you'd probably be upset”

“mph”

“I know kiddo”

Now she was mad, he didn't know! He just pretended he did! He just pretended that she was frustrated she wasn't getting it but she wasn't! She didn't want to get it!

“NO!” she screeched

“NO! You don't know. You don't know. I hate it.”

She grabbed his hand and pressed it against her head.

“This doesn't make sense! It used to make sense!!”

She released him and fell back onto her but; sitting dangerously close to the edge.

“What did he do to me? Why are you happy he did this to me?”

A million emotions flickered across his face, hurt, anger, fear, despair. All these emotions, all these words, they didn't match! Before she would have known what he was thinking. But now….. now she just couldn't.

“Cass…” His voice broke and her anger wavered

“I just wanted what was best for you, I didn't know you felt this way.” He was sorry.

“Sorry” Her mind whispered

“Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry” But what did it mean?

“I..I..I.. He was right''

She gasped for breath. Desperate to string together sounds as she forgot the meanings of them. ”He was right. My mind was an ocean. It was filled with images, sounds, and smells. And they all liked to blend together. It was messy but it made sense, Batman. Bats, it made so much sense!”

She couldn't breathe. Oh god she couldn't breathe!

“No-Now”

Gasping, gasping for air.

“Now it's wrong. It's wrong and I can't fix it.” There was a pause and then he was moving towards her. Before, she would have been on the other side of the roof already. But now...now she was trapped in a bone crushing hug, feet dangling over the edge of a building, in the most dangerous city in the world.

“What did he do to you Cass?”

He whispered; like if he talked any louder she’d crumble. Frankly, she just might.

“He broke me.”

“He took the waves and made them still, froze them, like ice. Then he shattered them and pieced them back together, but there all wrong! He put them back together wrong!

And he stamped words on them, but the words don't make sense. Before it was all blended together and he couldn't separate them right.”

She took her finger and placed it on his forehead.

“And he didn't know what you and Babs knew, just what just what he thought was right. So what I think something is, and what Babs says it is doesn't match up.”

She paused, but she couldn't stop now. Everything she learned, everything he made her learn was falling out of her mouth.

All the pieces in her head were less sharp and it felt AmaZinG.

“I can't write, I can't read, I don't think correctly, and to speak….to speak….”

She was gasping again and he held her tighter.

“To speak it's like…….”

She thought of when she was a little girl, when things made the most sense and everything was just action and noise. There was a beach in those memories…. A place….maybe it was Nanda Parbat like in the stories Alfred tells her. She played with her father there.

No...Wait….No…

She was shuddering, something was wrong, it wasn't working, the pieces were sharpening and……..

Relief...Relief...She hadn't played with her father. She fought with her father, the thoughts settled in her head and she relaxed...these thoughts, these words they were like….

“To speak, It's like standing on sand. It's not sturdy, it shifts when you walk, and when you run, It tries to swallow you whole.”

Oh she was tired, so tired of trying to run on a ground that wanted to eat her. She wanted to go back to the beach, when she was a child and things seemed so simple.

“Home” she said in a small voice

“I want to go home” he looked at her

“okay kiddo”

She expected to be let go, to be told to walk back home to the clock tower. To the flashcards, and the angry Babs, but that was not the case. As soon as the words left his mouth he gathered her up in his arms, the burgers long forgotten. He took her to the Bat-mobile, leaving her in the backseat meant for scared children, he drove her off into the dark.

She didn't know where to, and she didn't care, she just let the darkness take her.

When she awoke she was in the manor. Tucked under heavy blankets in the biggest bed she had ever seen; Bruce sitting next to her at the bedside. Yellow flames illuminating his face.

She would have been concerned if she was awake, but the emotional turmoil of the past few weeks, the physical exhaustion she experienced with Shiva, the blow out fight with Babs, and the breakdown with Batman had left her exhausted and barely conscious.

“Bats” she croaked out.

She was tired, oh she was so bitterly tired, and the darkness was oh so sweet.

He looked up from his book. His glasses were too far down to be that useful, and they sat crooked on his broken nose. She laughed deliciously, huh, she must have caught something in the cold.

“What's so funny Cass” his deep baritone rumbled so she laughed some more.

“I'm so tired Batmern” he looked troubled

“Then sleep”

“I can't, it hurts.”

“Then let it go Cass, just let go.”

“but what if there's nothing left?

She was scared. So very scared. She couldn't bear the thought of being nothing but a hollow shell.

“Then we'll rebuild Cassie-o”

“Okay”

Her voice was small but it moved mountains. There was force behind it, a strength that came from her whole being.

She tried, she tried to let go, but it hurt terribly, It burned and she could faintly hear someone screaming. She wondered who it was. There was blackness all around her, and silence apart from the screams. It felt like an eternity but it must have been seconds.

She reached out grasping at the sheets, searching for a familiar hand. A cold touch pushed her hair out of her face.

She realized that it wasn't the hand that was cool but her that was hot.

Finally after what felt like years of screaming into darkness a light appeared. It was a beach, one on which a girl played with her father. She tried to swim towards them but the tide pulled her away.…..she wanted too….she wanted to….

A voice whispered in here ear, faint and far away but still clear

“let go Cassandra”

So she did, she let herself be pulled out by the tide. And watched as she was pushed further and further away from the sad little girl, the slippery sand, and the angry man. She let herself wash out to sea, and felt relief when she realized it was over.

This was her ocean, it was still here, she wasn't empty now, her mind had been waiting for her all along. She was free, she was oh so totally free.

Yet she still felt sad, she had let go of the past her father forced upon her. And The future the man made for her.

She was free and she was terribly lost.

She panicked, if she was not the little girl who was she? She had never been someone else before! She was drowning, the waves were huge and pushed her under so she couldn't breathe. She started to tremble and the world flickered.

It was a dark ocean.

It was kind eyes.

It was air leaving her body.

It was a cool touch.

It was a little girl drowning.

It was strong arms.

It was still strong arms!

It was strong arms reaching into the water and fishing her out, breathing life back into her.

It was a voice whispering to her, telling her it was alright, that she could hang on for now. They had all the time in the world.

It was a voice

It was her father.

“You can be a little girl for now Cassie. It's okay. Worry about being strong later.”

She woke up gasping for air hacking up red water- or blood she was coughing up blood.

The fire was dying now, only embers remained, casting a warm glow on the figure holding her. “How long?” she whispered her voice hoarse from screaming.

“Long enough”

“I'm so tired so very tired”

“Then sleep class. I'll be here when you wake up.”

The darkness could come now she was ready for it

“g’night batdad”

“goodnight Cassie”

come check me out on my tumblr! There’s more where this came from!

19 notes · View notes

hopeworldfan · 5 years

Text

under the influence

summary: maybe a little weed and a lot of jung hoseok is exactly what you need to mend your broken heart.

pairing: hoseok/reader

word count: 5k+

genre: fluff, angst, smut, college!au, stoner!au, friends to lovers

warnings: angst, drug use (weed), mild smut, dirty talk, praise kink

a/n: i’ve been sitting on this for a LONG time and ultimately decided to just make it two parts since my dumb ass doesn’t know how to STOP.

“I’m too sober for this.” You muttered the moment you walked into the frat house, easily bypassing the long line of underclassman clad in their skin-tight dresses and six-inch heels, a stark contrast to your sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. They had glared at you when the designated ‘bouncer’ ushered you in with a welcoming smile and a clap on the back. You didn’t even want to be at the stupid frat party in the first place, but your roommate had threatened to stop rolling your blunts, which wouldn’t have been a problem if said roommate hadn’t been privy to the information that your bowl was broken and you were helpless at rolling.

He was more conniving than he let on.

It was almost funny how your initial scan of the packed common room revealed the exact reason why you would have rather swallowed seventeen razors than come to the stupid party. Your now ex-boyfriend was practically fucking some underclassman in the middle of the room. Fan-fucking-tastic. You wished you could say it didn’t hurt, didn’t sting like hell, didn’t make you feel ugly, and worthless, and a million other negative descriptive words. It had only been three weeks since you ended your three-year relationship. Good to know he was equally as heartbroken as you. Then again, he had been fucking other girls for a while anyway.

A part of you had almost wished you had dressed up a little, put some effort into your appearance to show him what he was missing, but the bigger, lazier part of you was content in your attire. Besides, you weren’t there to get laid, you were there to get fucked up, and that didn’t require spanx.

It was easy to navigate your way around the frat house, knowing the layout like the back of your hand since you were a frequent visitor. Some of your closest friends were members.

“Noona!” Jungkook cheered when he spotted your approaching from his spot manning the keg, a freshman job. He broke away to pull you into a bone-crushing hug and you couldn’t help but grin at the other boy. You’d only known him for a few months, but he quickly grew on you with his big doe eyes and boyish charm. He was going to be a heartbreaker once he got the swing of college life, that was something you were certain about. In his current state of naivety though? He was harmless.

“Hey Kookie, I needed to be drunk thirty minutes ago, can you help a poor girl out?” He immediately nodded and disappeared for a second before returning with a suspicious-looking concoction.

“This will do the trick.” He grinned mischievously and the logical part of your brain was screaming that drinking the strange drink was a horrible idea, but the other part of your brain kept replaying your ex dancing with that girl and before you knew it, you were chugging the drink like you were dehydrated. Jungkook watched in wide-eyed amazement as you swallowed the last bit and took a deep breath. “Damn, Noona.”

“Thanks, Kookie.” You said with a slight grimace, the aftertaste of the drink leaving much to be desired. “Have you seen Hobi around?”

“Hyung was in the living room last time I saw him.” The younger boy supplied and you grinned before reaching up at placing a kiss on his cheek. You were startled when his arms encircled your waist, preventing you from moving away as you had intended.

“Kookie?” You questioned, confused about his actions, not that you entirely hated them. Jungkook was one of the hottest guys you had ever seen, but he was two years younger than you and that wasn’t your thing.

He lowered his head to where his mouth was right next to your ear and you felt your heart rate increase. Chills spread across your body as his hot breath ghosted along the shell of your ear. “Why don’t you stay with me, noona?”

You snickered and the spell was immediately broken. Jungkook was pouting when you pulled back, looking like a petulant child. “You’re learning quick Kookie, but not quick enough if that’s the best you got.”

“You’re mean, noona.” He grumbled and you blew him a kiss before turning and strolling into the living room, set on finding your friend. If anyone could make your night less shitty, you knew it would be Hoseok and his inexplicably bright personality. He never failed to put a smile on your face and you were in desperate need of one of those.

The boy was right where Jungkook said he’d be, lounging on the couch, a girl sitting on either side of his relaxed form. The sight didn’t surprise you. Hoseok was hands down one of the most attractive people you had ever laid eyes on, and you weren’t blind to his fuckboy tendencies, not that he had ever tried anything with you. A part of you wanted to be offended, but to his credit, you had been in a committed relationship and Hoseok obviously didn’t like complicated.

You were about to turn and leave Hoseok to what would no doubt be a memorable threesome when your eyes landed on the source of your shitty mood. He was already looking at you and you felt your blood boil at the smirk that was splayed across his features. What an asshole. It was like your drunken body moved on its own because the next thing you knew you were plopping yourself right into Hoseok’s lap, knowing damn well your ex’s eyes were still on you.

“Hey baby girl,” He greeted lazily, only the slightest bit surprised by your sudden appearance. The two girls next to him looked blatantly annoyed at the intrusion and how Hoseok’s attention was now focused solely on you, but you could not have possibly cared less. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Jimin forced me to, threatened to stop rolling my blunts.” You pouted, winding your arms around his neck and leaning against his chest. Your words were starting to come out slurred and your mind was feeling more than a little hazy. Junkook’s drink was really hitting.

Hoseok laughed -a loud, bright sound-, and you giggled along with him. “I’m glad you came, haven’t seen much of you this past month.”

“Too busy nursing my broken heart.” You said sarcastically -though that didn’t make it any less true-, taking comfort in the way that your friend's arms had circled around your waist and one of his hands was tracing patterns against your hip.

Hoseok was always a touchy-feely person, something that had caused discord in your previous relationship. Your ex insisted that Hoseok had ill intentions towards you and you insisted that he was being jealous for no reason, that if you were doing the same thing with a girl he wouldn’t bat an eye. Still, you had reeled back your displays of affection for your friend and let him know that he was being too handsy, all in an effort to make your boyfriend happy, all the while he had a plethora of other girls making him more than happy.

“My poor baby,” He cooed in your ear and you snuggled deeper into his chest, reveling in the warmth his hold provided, oblivious to the way he was staring at a fixed point over your shoulder, that fixed point being your fuming ex-boyfriend. Hoseok looked akin to the cat who ate the canary, making a show of placing featherlight touches across your body. “C’mon, wanna go smoke in my room? You won’t have to roll any blunts.”

His voice was teasing and you immediately shot up, a drunken grin on your face. You were never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when the gift was good weed.

It was quiet in Hoseok’s room, the only sound being the muffled noise from the party raging downstairs and the deep inhales as the blunt was passed back and forth. The two of you had situated yourselves sitting against his headboard, shoulders pressed together and Hoseok’s right arm draped over your shoulders. His right hand was dangling dangerously close to your chest, but you were too inebriated to pay attention to anything really.

“I can’t feel my teeth.” You mumbled slowly and he immediately burst into giggles. The high had hit you about five minutes ago and your whole body felt like it was floating. Hoseok had a higher tolerance than you, so there was no way he was at your level yet. The very small, very sober part of your brain reminded you of that tidbit, if only to try and keep you from making a complete fool of yourself.

“Do you normally feel your teeth?”

You slowly tilted your head to the side, eyes squinted as you tried to remember. Did you normally feel your teeth? “I dunno.”

With a sigh, you let your head rest on Hoseok’s shoulder, refusing the blunt when he tried to pass it to you again. You were high enough and well aware of your limits. Always the responsible one.

“You smell good.” You murmured, burying your face into the side of his hoodie. He always smelled good, but that was a thought you had never been able to voice before, lest your boyfriend get jealous.

“Thanks,” He laughed.

“Sorry for taking you away from those girls. You could probably be having a threesome right now.” You apologized, voice muffled due to your face still being pressed against his side.

“Definitely could be having a threesome right now,” He corrected with a laugh. “But I like this better.”

Hoseok was warm and being near him felt so right that the only conscious though your brain had was that you had to be closer to him. Slowly, and clumsily, you shifted until you were straddling his lap, a triumphant grin on your face at the accomplishment.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” He asked with a lazy grin, eyes squinted due to the high. You couldn’t help but think about how endearing he looked.

“Wanna be close to you.” You admitted, something you never would have done if you didn’t have a dangerous mixture of alcohol and weed coursing through you. Hoseok nodded once like the answer made perfect sense before putting out the blunt and loosely wrapping his arms around your waist. It was intimate, too intimate for friends, but all you could focus on was how nice it felt. You were an affectionate person when you were inebriated.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, Hoseok admiring how pretty you looked with that dopey grin on your face before your gaze wandered to his lips. The very small, very sober part of your brain was making an appearance again, this time screaming at you. It was a bad idea, a very bad idea. Hoseok was your friend and you’d just gotten out of a three-year relationship, but the larger, inebriated part of your brain just wanted to know what he tasted like, if he was really as good of a kisser as everyone said he was. Then there was also the part of you that just wanted to forget about your ex, that wanted to feel wanted again.

“What are you staring at?” He asked softly and you were entranced by how plush his lips looked when they moved.

“Your lips.” You answered immediately, your brain to mouth filter having been shut down halfway through the blunt.

“Oh.”

You wanted to kiss him so bad. It was an all-consuming want, but even high you were still too shy to make the first move. As hard as it was, you peeled your eyes away from Hoseok’s lips and brought them back up to meet his gaze, or so you thought. His eyes were also cast downwards, and you tilted your head in confusion.

“What are you looking at?”

“Your lips.” He answered just as quickly as and nonchalantly as you had, and your breath caught in your throat. Almost as if on reflex your tongue darted out and swiped across your bottom lip, causing Hoseok’s gaze to darken.

“Oh.”

Hoseok’s head tilted upwards until his eyes met yours and your heart stuttered. How had you not noticed how attractive he was before. Yeah, you knew he was attractive, but there was something different about it now. It was blatantly obvious that you had never looked at him before, not really, not like this. This Hoseok wasn’t the Hoseok that you had been friends with for seven months, who was looking at you like he wanted to eat you whole and knew that you would let him. This Hoseok was making your heart race and your body fill with need. This was the Hoseok that all the other girls saw.

Before the logical part of your brain could talk you out of it you were leaning forward, oblivious to the way your friend's body tensed as you clumsily pressed your lips to his. You were always too shy to make the first move; you were more fucked up than you realized. Not too fucked up to realize that Hoseok was worryingly still as you kissed him though. Embarrassment flooded through you and you were pulling back, an apology already on your lips when he moved, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you back towards him.

He was a good kisser. That was the only thought you could comprehend while his lips were moving against yours, a testament to just how good of a kisser he was. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your body against his, causing Hoseok to grin against your lips.

Almost unconsciously, you pressed down into his lap and gasped when you felt the bulge in his sweatpants. The second time was very deliberate and Hoseok hissed against your mouth before bringing his hands to your hips in a grip so tight you could already see the bruises you would have tomorrow.

“You’re very inebriated right now Y/N, this isn’t a good idea.” He said, though his voice was strained, and you whined.

“Just a little drunk, and a little high.” You protested before giggling.

“Exactly.”

Hurt flashed through you at the apparent rejection. Were you not good enough for Hoseok? Not pretty enough? You knew you were far from the most attractive girl on the planet with your love handles and crooked teeth, but Hoseok fucked just about anything with two legs and a heartbeat. Were you really that bad? “Do you not want me?”

Hoseok gulped, heart aching at the pain he saw in your eyes. Of course, he wanted you. He’d wanted you since the first time he met you and you smiled up at him with those doe-like eyes and sinfully plush lips. He’d wanted you every time you pressed your body against his and innocently pouted at him, completely ignorant to the effect you had on him. However, Hoseok was a man with morals and you were in a relationship. Which, if he was being honest with himself, he couldn’t have fucking cared less about the fact that you were in a relationship, but you were loyal and he respected that.

Finally, you were single and he was free to make his move, something he fully planned on doing, but not when you were fresh out of a nasty breakup and so fucked up that he was positive you couldn’t walk. He knew what you were doing, knew you were only acting like this because you were hurting and you just wanted to feel something other than that hurt. Normally, Hoseok had no problem with being a rebound fuck, but he knew you and he didn’t want to do anything that you would regret in the morning when you were sober.

“Baby girl, you can feel just how badly I want you, but when I fuck you for the first time, you’re going to be completely sober so you remember every second of it.” His words went straight to your core and you whined.

“Want you so bad Hobi. Please.”

Hoseok groaned. “Fuck Y/N, you’re making it hard to do the right thing here.”

You pressed your body against his, placing messy kisses against his neck. “Don’t want you to do the right thing. Just want to feel good.”

If a single one of your brain cells were functioning correctly, you would have felt embarrassed for how strongly you were coming on. The way you were literally begging Hoseok to fuck you, but your brain cells were showing no sign of intelligent activity. Something punctuated by the fact that you once again grinded down on his prominent erection, eliciting a moan from both of you.

“God, you really are dirtier than you let on.” He smirked. “Fine, we’ll have it your way. I’m not fucking you though, not now, not yet, not until we’re both sober.”

His words went straight to your core and you whined at his dark promise. “What are we doing then?”

The dark look in Hoseok’s eyes sent shivers down your spine. “You’re going to get yourself off right here in my lap.”

That caused some of your brain cells to wake up and a blush to coat your cheeks. Sure you had literally just been grinding on his lap seven seconds ago, but that was a tactic to try and get him to fuck you.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting shy now.” He teased, finding great pleasure in the way you had suddenly reverted back to the woman he knew. “We can always just call it quits right here and wait until you’re sober.”

That was enough to snap you out of your sudden bout of self-consciousness and you unceremoniously smashed your lips against his before grinding down. Hoseok grinned against your lips before sliding his hands under your shirt and cupping your breasts.

“No bra?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Uncomfortable.” Was your one-word answer before shuddering as his thumbs brushed over your already erect nipples. Hoseok roughly pushed up your shirt, giving himself a full view of your bare chest. You faltered in your grinding, unable to combat the feelings of self-consciousness about your soft midsection, the polar opposite of most people that Hoseok bedded, the polar opposite of the girls your ex cheated on your with. As if reading your mind, he wasted no time in ducking his head to take one of your nipples in his mouth, leaving your mind blissfully blank.

With a renewed sense of vigor, you continued grinding down on Hoseok’s erection, chasing the orgasm that you knew was tantalizingly close.

“Are you going to cum for me? Look at you, all fucked out just from grinding on my cock. Just imagine how good it’ll feel when I’m inside of you, stretching you out with my thick cock. Do you want that, baby? Want me to fuck you good and hard?” The onslaught of Hoseok’s dirty talk was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

“Yes,” You whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body up against his as you felt your orgasm growing close.

“You’re such a good girl for me. My good girl. My good little slut, aren’t you?” Hoseok’s breath was hot against your ear and you whined. How he managed to pick up on your praise kink already was beyond you, but you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Shit, I’m going to cum.” You gasped seconds before you pushed yourself over the edge. Hoseok harshly gripped your hips, forcing you to continue grinding on him. You whined, still sensitive from your orgasm, but Hoseok shushed you with a kiss.

“C’mon baby, I know you can give me one more. Be a good girl for me.” Your legs were shaking as you continued to press down on his bulge, this time with his help. “You’re amazing Y/N, the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

You were panting, fatigue beginning to set in, but you were determined to give Hoseok what he wanted. The second orgasm came much quicker than the first and Hoseok pressed his lips to yours in a desperate kiss, all tongue and no technique, but still fantastic.

Orgasm number two hit you and you cried out against Hoseok’s mouth, but he still didn’t relent. It wasn’t until a few seconds later when he let out a throaty moan that his grip on your hips loosened and you relaxed in his lap, both of you breathing heavy.

It was in the next few minutes of post-orgasm bliss that your brain cells seemed to raise from the dead and a cold sense of clarity washed over you. Still wrapped up in his own post-orgasm bliss, Hoseok was uncharacteristically oblivious to your internal turmoil as he placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

The kiss was akin to being doused with a bucket of cold water and you scrambled off of his lap in horror.

“(y/n, wait,” Hoseok said as he realized what was about to happen.

“I have to go.” You managed to choke out, almost tripping in your urgency to get to your feet and dash out of Hoseok’s room.

“Wait. Baby. Shit.” He cursed, as your darted out of his room and he stood to follow you, feeling the reminder of what just happened sliding down his legs. It wasn’t like he could chase after you with cum dripping down his legs. “Fuck.”

You were in a panic as you frantically ran around the still crowded frat house, searching out your roommate and designated driver for the night. Some higher being really seemed keen on punishing your for something, because instead of running into your best friend, you ran into the one person in the godforsaken frat house that you were desperately trying to avoid.

“Whoa, is this your plan to get revenge? Take me out by running me over?” Jackson, your ex-boyfriend, asked snidely and you watched in horror as he took in your fucked out appearance, as he put two and two together in his pea-sized brain. He barked out a sharp laugh. “You fucked him didn’t you?”

“Can you get out of my fucking way, asshole?”

He just continued to laugh. “Oh that’s fucking rich. You did, you fucked him. I knew you would spread your legs for him eventually. What’s wrong? Did he kick you out the minute he was done with you? Or did he come to his senses mid-fuck?”

You hated that his words were having any effect on you. How had you wasted three years on such a piece of shit?

“How about you go fuck another freshman Jackson? You know they’re the only ones who’ll fuck you because they don’t know you’re sporting a three-incher yet.” Your best friend said venomously, appearing at your side in an instant.

“At least I’m not a faggot,” Jackson replied angrily and you grabbed Jimin’s hand in yours, roughly pulling him in the direction of the door before the situation could escalate.

“Whoa, where’s the fire hot-stuff? You know someone like Jackson calling me a faggot isn’t going to set me off.” He said lightly but you were just focused on leaving, getting home, taking a hot shower and going to sleep so you could forget about everything that happened tonight. Jimin, however, wasn’t having the silent treatment and brought your mad dash to a halt the minute the two of you were outside of the frat house.

“Jimin, please. I just want to go home.” You pleaded, turning to face your pink-haired friend and seeing him examine you in the same way Jackson did, coming to the same conclusion. He wanted details, you could see it in his face, but he could see the desperation in yours and just nodded before wrapping an arm around your shoulders before guiding you to his car.

“We’re going to talk about this later, you know that right?”

“I know.” You replied softly, slipping into the passenger seat and resting your head against the window.

He didn’t press the issue the short ride back to your shared apartment. He didn’t press the issue when you immediately claimed the bathroom. He didn’t press the issue when you wordlessly grabbed your weed and silently asked him to roll you a blunt. It wasn’t until you’d taken a long drag that he finally fixed you with a look that said ‘talk or I’m going to lose my mind.’

“I,” you started, pausing to take another drag. “Am an idiot.”

“Okay, but that’s old news.” Jimin immediately responded and you rolled your eyes.

“Thanks.”

“You’re stalling, trying to come up with a way to make whatever happened a joke so you can cope with it.” You sighed before leaning back on the couch. The cons of being best friends with a psych major.

“We didn’t fuck,” you prefaced and immediately saw Jimin’s face light up. “Why do you look like a kid on Christmas? I just said we didn’t fuck.”

“But you did something!”

“And therein lies the problem.” You cringed.

“Why is it a problem? Hoseok is hot! And completely head over heels for you!”

Jimin chose the wrong moment to make that statement because you had just finished a drag of the blunt in your hand, causing you to immediately start choking. It took three minutes for you to get the coughing under control, and you shot your friend a dark look. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh please, you’re telling me you haven’t noticed that he drops other girls the minute you walk through the door?”

“That’s not true! When I found him tonight he was literally chatting up two girls, at the same time.” You protested and Jimin rolled his eyes.

“And what did he do the minute you walked up to him? Focused all of his attention on you? Drop the other girls like they were yesterday's twitter feed?”

“You can’t drop a twitter feed-”

“Don’t try and change the subject. Hoseok likes you, the two of you went to third base or something, then you ran away the minute you realized what was happening before the two of you could even talk about what happened. Am I close?”

You didn’t have a witty comeback for that one. “Hoseok isn’t the relationship type.”

Jimin scoffed. “He just isn’t the type to actively seek one out, which I get. People probably say I’m not the relationship type because I like to fuck around, but if I found someone that I had a connection with I’m not opposed to a relationship. I’m almost positive Hoseok is the same way. Now tell me what’s really bothering you about this.”

Damn psych major. “What if I’m not the relationship type?”

The question was barely louder than a whisper and for the millionth time, Jimin wanted to beat Jackson’s ass for making you think you deserved less than the entire world handed to you on a silver platter. “Baby, princess, sweetheart, look at me.”

It took everything in you to lift your head and meet your best friends soft gaze. “You are the relationship type. Just because Jackson turned out the be a giant asshole doesn’t mean you’re going to be alone forever, or that you’re not the relationship type. He wasn’t good enough for you.”

“He broke me Jimin. I hide behind the jokes and the false confidence but he broke me, and I just, I’m finally starting to feel like myself again, like I’m finally putting some of the pieces back together. I can’t give someone that power again, not now.”

Jimin gently cupped your face in his hands. “You don’t have to, but you do have to talk to Hoseok, because despite everything that happened, at the end of the day the two of you are friends and I know you care about him.”

“I know, I will.”

It took a week. A whole week before you pushed down your pride and marched back into the frat house, making a beeline for Hoseok’s room.

Everything in you screamed to leave. This was a conversation you didn’t want to have any part in. It had been a mistake to not smoke beforehand. You awkwardly raised your hand to knock on the door to the room that you had two orgasms in the other night when it swung open.

“Oh,” Hoseok said, eyes wide as he took in your presence. “Hey.”

“Uhh, hey.” You replied, trying -and failing- to keep your eyes from roaming his bare torso. It really should have been illegal for one man to look that good. God clearly had a favorite.

“Did you have a reason for showing up at my room this morning or did you come solely to stare at me? Because either way I’m not complaining, as long as I get to stare too of course.” That brought you back to reality and your eyes snapped up to his smiling face.

“I uhm, wanted to talk.”

“Come right on in.” He said easily, opening the door wider to allow you to enter. “So, what’s up?”

“We need to talk about what happened the other night.” You said immediately. Better to not beat around the bush.

“Oh you mean when you came twice in my lap then ran out and didn’t talk to me for a week?” Every part of your body seemed to cringe at the nonchalant way he said the exact thing you have been actively choosing to not think about.

“Yeah. That.”

“Okay cool.”

“It was a mistake.” You cringed again. “Okay that sounded mean and like it came straight out of a bad teen movie. I just mean, I had a good time, but we shouldn’t do it again because you’re my friend.”

“And what if I want to be more than friends?” He said it so casually, like he was asking if you wanted to get coffee later. It left you floundering. “I know I fuck around a lot, but it’s only because I had never found anyone I wanted to be in a relationship with, until you.”

“Hoseok,” you said painfully and he smiled softly.

“I know what a rejection sounds like, and it’s okay. I know you and Jackson only broke up like a month ago, and you’re probably not ready for a new relationship-”

“Hobi,” you interrupted. “Can you let me speak? Please?”

He immediately stopped talking and let you have the floor. “You’re right. I’m not ready for a new relationship, and I don’t know when I’ll be ready. You might have some romanticized idea that I’m going to get over him in a few weeks and come running into your arms but I can promise you that’s not going to happen.”

“I’m not expecting it to. Why do you think I didn’t push the subject this week? Why I left you alone to stew in all this until you were ready to come to me?” Hoseok took a seat on the edge of his bed. “I know you’re still hurting because of him, I wasn’t planning on approaching you for a few months but then you had other plans.”

Your cheeks burned at the mischievous smile on his face. “Hobi I don’t know if ‘a couple months’ will be long enough for me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to give myself to someone again.”

He gently reached out to grab your hands in his, pulling you towards him, close enough that your knees knocked against his. “I’m not asking you to give yourself to me, not now and not in a few months. The only thing I’m asking you to give me is a chance, whenever you’re ready. Nothing has to change until you’re ready, we can be the same old Y/N and Hoseok.”

“Promise?” You implored softly.

“Promise.”

68 notes · View notes

secretsantasides · 5 years

Text

Gift #8: My Universe

Gift for @enby-fander

Prompt: Analogical High School AU

My Universe

Characters: Logan, Deceit (called Daniel), Virgil, mentions of Remus, mentions of Patton

Pairings: Romantic Analogical, Platonic Loceit, Brotherly Anxciet, implied Brotherly Logicality

Warnings: Alludes to homelessness and poverty, sad boi Virgil

Summary: Thank you to the two anons who showed up on @enby-fander's account and gave me major inspiration right when I needed it. Here you go, Trans Virgil and Nonbinary Logan that starts as angst and ends as fluff.

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As the rest of Kingston High School's sophomores rushed into the cafeteria, Daniel Hyde instead ducked through an out-of-the-way, yet familiar, pair of dark, wooden, though probably fake wood, double doors. His head was down as he stalked over to the Fiction section, deliberately searching. For what, bystanders had no clue.

They parted, anxious to induce the wrath of Dan, a boy rumoured to be in a gang. None of them would put such a thing past the punk boy. He wasn't someone to mess with.

He walked with such a determination that they knew he was on the hunt. His prey? Another, hidden from all but him.

Logan Jekyll was seated in the middle of the mystery section, shrouded in darkness. The junior knew these shelves well, so much so that they could traverse them without requiring sight. That way, they had no reason to flick the switches at the start of each row to the "on" position, which would illuminate the row of dim fluorescent bulbs dangling above. Logan liked it better in the dark, anyway. It hid the introvert from those pesky freshmen. The ones who liked to taunt Logan for some unknown reason.

"Oh look, it's genius Jekyll. Aren't you the one with the ridiculously high GPA? Highest in your year?"

They gave a quick, curt nod to both questions, not speaking. Instead, they continued to read their book, turning the page after a few seconds of silence.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was most definitely living up to the praise they had heard it received, primarily by the Hyde brothers. Daniel had always pressed them to read it, so they had finally began the novel.

As they read, laughs were heard. The rowdy students had become bored with the junior and had stampeded away towards the computers. Logan never understood what they seemed to find so funny.

"Hey, first chair Jekyll, heard you got the solo for the next concert."

When they nodded, quick and curt, the group started laughing yet again. All the way over to the doors. Probably after they walked out the doors, too.

Logan recognized someone in that mob as the sophomore who liked to raise hell during rehearsal, along with a few trumpet players, a bassoon, and half of percussion. He brought the baritone horn section down considerably, even with Logan there to counterbalance his pure idiocy. And to think, this kid is laughing at him. Sheer stupidity, all of it.

"Jekyll, my man, the reason our debate team isn't shit. You're captain, right? Who's second, in your book?"

At the first question, they nodded. At the second, they scowled and looked back at his book. They did have an opinion on who would fall second, but that opinion was not owed to a group of freshmen who loiter around and taunt others. Seeing the spectacle-wearing one's scowl, the boys laughed. Turning and walking away, they kept on snickering and joking about "perfect Jekyll."

'Our debate team? You mean, my debate team.' Logan recognized none of those dumbasses as members of debate, especially not the one who initiated the conversation. He would be debating things when pigs flew.

"I found Jekyll, man of the hour. Nice speech you gave, didn't realize you could do that. Thought only seniors could."

They shook their head "no" at the statement, causing them to… big surprise… laugh at them.

At least they're eloquent enough to make a speech. These people could barely string together simple sentences, let alone write with enough skill to compose a speech at the level Logan did so at.

"Hey guys, here's Dr. Jekyll. Heard you finally found your Mr. Hyde, and you're terribly in love."

They scowled, otherwise ignoring all of them. That narrative wasn't even fitting to Robert Louis Stevenson's original story. In the end, it was revealed that Dr. Henry Jekyll and Mr. Edward Hyde were one and the same, a relationship they and their boyfriend do not possess.

"What, don't want to admit that you're gay as f*ck for Hyde?"

The scowl already adorning their features intensified some, but that was the only indicator of how pissed Logan truly was. Lacking a reaction, the group turned and walked away, laughing as they went.

Did they owe them an explanation of their love life? No, they should f*ck off. It's their damn significant other, not theirs. They were thinking of multiple profanities that could describe those idiots, but decidedly did not execute them aloud. Their choices would make probably Remus Kingston proud, a boy who has an alphabet of swear words, an alphabet that only skims the surface of his cursing dictionary.

As Logan sat there, reminiscing about how much of an asshole all of those freshmen were, Dan was slowly honing down his search radius.

He had visited most of Logan's normal rows, besides mystery and parts of nonfiction. As he walked to non-fiction, he stopped abruptly and turned to walk down the row of mystery novels. Logan truly adored the who-dunits covering these shelves, or so he's heard. He may have good luck looking here, as long as his brother knew Jekyll well. Dan was certain he did.

Don't fail me now, nerd, I need you, he thought, breathing deeply.

He strolled casually into the aisle, flicking the switch at the start of the row. The dim fluorescent lining the ceiling flickered on, revealing exactly what he was looking for. Exactly who he was looking for. Logan Jekyll.

Logan hissed at the sudden lights, sparking a chuckle from the sophomore stalking towards him. They looked up, blue-green eyes meeting grey.

There was an amused smirk adorning the boy's features. Logan did not mirror the expression, but they were nonetheless glad to see the sophomore.

"Didn't realize us Hyde's had made an impression on you. Not surprised, though, with how much you see my brother."

The one clad in blue blushed a deep red at the mention of their boyfriend. Daniel laughed at the sight, before offering out his hand. Logan looked down at the palm obscured by black, fingerless gloves, bewildered as to why the other was putting his hand out. Their confusion showed, causing Dan to roll his eyes and huff.

"Take my hand, Calculator Watch, I'm helping you up. That sorry excuse for carpeting is stale as f*ck, so we might as well go sit somewhere more comfortable."

Reliasition flashed before Logan's eyes as they muttered an, "Ah." Their hand took the other's gloved one, allowing the younger boy to hoist the older off of the matted, black carpet. They now were roughly at eye-level with each other, Logan with a solid height of 5'5" and Daniel being just a half or full inch shorter.

Daniel ran one hand through his slicked back black hair, shoving the other in one pocket of his faded leather jacket. The hand brushing the hair joined the other in the pocket opposite.

"Now, Jekyll, we have a pressing matter to discuss."

The two walked in silence for a while, Daniel leading them through the hallways. Suddenly, he took a left into a classroom, Logan following behind.

The classroom was abandoned, obviously having been used as a science room at one point. There were posters adorning two of the walls, saying things like "Eat, sleep, science, repeat."

"We need to talk about my brother."

Panic flashed in the eyes of Logan, who hid the emotion quickly. Dan wouldn't have noticed if Logan had not coughed directly afterwards, drawing attention to their still shell-shocked expression

The older of the two anxiously scuffed one of their NASA-themed Vans across the linoleum tiles, before looking back at the aforementioned boy.

"Go on."

"Well, he has refused to leave his room for the past 5 days, so I wanted to ask you for…"

He hesitated, but Logan pushed him on.

"For what? Spit it out, Hyde."

Daniel coughed, before regaining his composure.

"I need your help, Jeyll. I need your f*cking help. You're the only person I know that can do anything to get my brother out of his hiding space, and that's all I care about. I'm willing to put aside our indifferences if it helps my brother. Now, tell me, will you?"

"So, what am I supposed to do again?"

The two were walking to the apartment the Hyde brothers shared.

Daniel cleared his throat. "You're supposed to get that bastard to emerge from the cave he has made out of his room. This may be a habit of his, but it has gone on longer than normal, which concerns me."

Logan chuckled. "Sounds like him, alright. At least I now know for certain you and I are talking about the same person."

Dan burst out, "Finally! Someone understands how antisocial that motherf*cker can be!"

He gestured dramatically to emphasize the point.

The older's face morphed into a grin and they began to laugh.

"Hey!" they said, through their laughter, "That's my boyfriend you're talking about!"

Daniel snorted.

"He's my brother! I'm allowed to call him an antisocial bastard."

The pair's laughter tapered off as they continued their trek.

"May I ask how far away your apartment is?"

Daniel coughed, shifting a bit awkwardly.

"Um… it's still a few minutes away, but we're heading up on it."

Logan cocked an eyebrow.

"Y'all live in the downtown area?" they asked.

Dan stayed silent, but nodded.

"My apologies for pushing the subject."

The pair had arrived at the place Daniel pointed them towards, a run-down, dirty-looking, crowded apartment building. Dan stopped multiple times before they arrived, obviously completing a routine.

First, he stopped by an older woman, who was walking across the sparsely filled parking lot with a cart. In the cart, canned food resided, all of which had a small message written on them in Sharpie.

As he reached her, Daniel pressed a can of food he procured from the pocket of his black backpack into her hands.

Logan heard her murmur, "God bless you, honey. You and your brother stay safe, alright Danny?"

They saw Dan give a warm smile towards her. "We will. Stay safe, Mrs. Cunningham."

Secondly, he waved to a group of little boys running in the lot, kicking a ball around. The one who had the ball kicked it towards Daniel, grinning brightly.

"Mr. Hyde!" the other boys shouted, having just spotted the teenager.

"Now what have I always told y'all? Call me Dan."

"Okay, Mr. Dan!" the boys chorused.

Daniel rolled his eyes, ruffling the hair of one. "I give up, y'all obviously are gonna be respectful at all times."

He paused, before clearing his throat.

"That's a good thing, boys. Respect everyone, even if it doesn't seem like they deserve it. Just gotta respect everyone."

The last part was murmured.

The boys all nodded vigorously, before one shouted, "First one to the tree over there gets to pick teams!"

They all sprinted, leaving Dan and Logan to chuckle.

"Kids, right?"

Daniel gave a half-moon smile. "Yeah."

The last stop before the Hyde apartment was at the front desk of the lobby. It could barely be considered a lobby, more like a room with a desk shoved in the corner, some assorted furniture in the other, and stairs to the upper floors. Daniel stepped up to the desk, pulling a sheet of folded notebook paper out of his jacket pocket. He set it on the desk before turning around and smoothing the worn-leather of his jacket. He popped the collar, looking Logan in the eyes.

"Let's go, Jekyll."

"Apartment 7C, correct?"

The pair had just arrived at floor 7, both out of breath. Daniel hid it better, though.

"...Yes," he composed himself, looking at the junior with a look of annoyance.

They strolled down the hall, stopping just short of the end.

APARTMENT 7C read a small, dirty plaque mounted just above the doorknob.

Dan proccured an equally rusty key from his back jean pocket. He turned to Logan and said, "Let's go get my bastard of a brother out of his damn slump."

The pair walked into the mess of an apartment, Daniel shouting out a quick, "I'm home!" to ease the other Hyde's anxieties. Though, the shouting may be contradictory, as the older Hyde brother was not a fan of loud noises.

Daniel quickly dropped the key on a rickety table close by to the door. His combat boots were shed, as Logan kicked off his Vans.

Dan turned to Logan, directing him towards his brother.

"Down the hall, first door to the left. It'll be locked, so… here."

He grabbed a penny from the counter and threw it to Logan. They caught it with ease, studying the coin. They looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"Our locks are garbage, so this should get it easy. I would've done it myself earlier this week, but I believe in the sanctitiy of one's room. That is, until you're in there for almost a week."

Logan nodded, turning to follow the instructions given.

Dan stopped them.

"I don't think he wants to see me, so I'll stay back. Jekyll, get my brother. Please."

He sounded almost desperate, so Logan obliged.

They found the door indicated easily, as there was a galaxy-patterned poster in blues and purples attached to the door with Scotch tape. It just seemed… right.

They jangled the knob a bit, discovering it was unsurprisingly locked. Logan took the penny, shoved it into the flat indentation on the rusty knob, turning slowly and carefully. It worked. The door was now unlocked.

Logan turned the handle, quickly entering the dark room. They heard a hoarse voice, dull due to lack of use, emitate from the corner.

"L-eave m-e the hell alon-e."

A throat was cleared, a few coughs ringing through the silence of the room.

"I'm fine."

Logan huffed, rumbling for the light switch mounted on the wall next to them.

Their hand knocked the switch up, prompting a hiss from the figure huddled in a corner.

"I thought you would be happier to see me. I assume I was wrong."

The figure looked up, revealing messy purple hair, tired and unfocused eyes, and a miserable expression adorning the features Logan would always find beautiful.

"Stella?"

"It's me, nebulosa."

Logan looked around the room.

It was very… Virgil.

He had a few band posters on the walls, hoodies with patches and stitching and a worn leather-jacket (much like Daniel's) hanging in the closet alongside his school-issued letterman's jacket, a black guitar propped up nicely in a corner, a chair that looked similar to those in the small dining room set with his low-quality music stand, band folder, and the large, bulky case of a euphonium put aside carefully, and a few trophies and certificates earned for track, for musical achievements, or for academic accomplishments were set on the dresser or hung on the wall above it. Everything was in black and deep purple, with subtle hints of navy.

They liked the color scheme a lot, as it was quite pleasing to the eye.

Much better than their brother's mixture of bright and pastel blues, all light in tone. Patton really didn't know how to mix colors.

Logan's attention was diverted, however, from the room surrounding them when they heard sniffles from Virgil's corner.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong?"

Virgil wiped his eyes, acting as though he wasn't just crying.

"I'm just over-emotional, I guess. Damn it, peri-"

He stopped himself, a look of shock adorning his features. Logan looked upon him with a look of pity, sad-smile creeping onto their features.

"Is that why you've been isolating yourself, babe? Hey, hey, come here."

Virgil shook his head. "I'm fine," he said stubbornly.

Logan walked over to him, wrapping their arms around him.

"It's okay, stella. ...I love you."

Virgil gave a weak smile.

"I love you too, Logan."

#fanfic #secretsantasides #analogical #virgil sanders #ts virgil #logan sanders #ts logan #high school au #sanders sides

35 notes · View notes

magical-gays-au-fanartfunart · 5 years

Text

Aftermath (can we hang out?)

Summary: Superhero AU- Logan is officially promoted to group Mom-friend. Virgil attempts to be a normal friend-person.

Ships: Logicality and Prinxiety (most of this one is platonic logince and some creatwins tbh)

Warnings: Remus has bad humor, mentions of gore, really light sexual innuendos, death/injury mention, intrusive thoughts (moreso an allusion to them rather than anything), pain/injury, destruction, crying, black-out mention, most of this is like.... aggressively hurt/comfort.

Tell me if anything else needs a warning!

Words: 1580ish

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 -

Remus had a backpack slung over one shoulder. Legs dangling over the side of the window, eyes focused down at the roof of the balcony below.

“Where are you going?”

“Why do you care?” Remus hissed under his breath, not looking up towards his twin.

Roman frowned, “Because I’m your brother. How about that?”

An uncannily wide smile fell upon his lips, turning to lean against the windowsill, “Oh, I forgot that. So sorry.”

Roman shook his head, “Ya’ know... Since when did you get so snarky?”

“Since when did you get so snuffy?” Remus snapped back, eyes narrowed.

“Dee’s rubbing off on you.”

Remus’s eyes lit up, “Ooh-”

Roman swore. “Ohmygod. Don’t! Why do you even like those kinds of jokes-”

Remus smirked, “I may be as ace as a train, but it’s wonderful to see everyone cringe.”

“Why is a train ace?”

“Because instead of smashing like a car, it crushes its enemies underneath without interest or-”

Roman snorted, face turning a bright shade of red, “I loathe that analogy. Hell’s Bells, why did I even ask?”

Remus rolled his eyes, pumping his leg dangling outside, “At least some of my jokes can get across.”

Roman watched his twin glance back down at the ground below, fumbling with a thread pulled off of the fraying strap of his backpack. Remus turned away, shifting to lean just minutely more out the window.

“You ever think about jumping out of a moving car?” Remus’s voice carried a heaviness to it that Roman knew all too well. But. Not quite as well as he once had.

“You ever think about jumping into a magic portal, running away into fairyland? Roman asked in return. It felt weird. Uttering such unfamiliarly familiar words. Worn away by time.

“Yeah, something like that.” Remus sniffed, “But with less sunshine and rainbows, more gore. That unicorn should’ve stabbed the knights.”

“You always hated all that fluff anyways,” Roman whispered. He folded his arms over the windowsill next to his sibling, seemingly under the pretense of looking at the moon hanging over the horizon.

“How do you do it?”

Roman raised a brow, glancing at Remus through the corner of his eyes, “I manage a lot of stuff I shouldn’t be able to. What do you mean?”

“Live with all their expectations?” Remus huffed, “Hell, you’ve even got a whole town full of expectations on you now, and no mask to hide behind anymore.”

Roman shrugged, eyes focused on the early stars. “I don’t know.” A beat of silence. They never did silence well. “....Just, place a crown on top of your head and pretend it never falls off.”

All Remus replied with was a shake of his head. His breath hiccuped, and that could’ve been passed off as a laugh if Roman’s shirt wasn’t being used as a handkerchief in the seconds that followed.

All Roman did in return was hug him a little tighter, and tug him away from the window.

-Now 2 years later-

Everything came back slowly and seemingly at once. Roman blinked a few times. Everything felt just a bit heavy and a touch sore. A gentle, distinct pressure of fingertips carded through his hair. Keeping his head up. Roman took in another breath, swallowing dryly, as he leaned his weight onto his elbows. Somebody’s hand was on his chest.

“Slowly, slowly- don’t sit up quite yet. Don’t want you passing out again.” He glanced up at Logan. Oh, Logan was holding him.

Roman took in a heavy breath and frowned. Logan decidedly read the expression as a question.

“Your oxygen intake was extremely light for about 3 minutes, 30 seconds and you were unconscious for approximately 15 minutes. Saying in a level position will allow a more evenly dispersed amount of oxygen flow to your head and body. And prevent lightheadedness,” Logan glanced down, eyes narrowing. “So stay put.”

Roman grunted, slumping against Logan’s hold. They sat in silence for a beat. Roman sighed, glancing toward the relatively empty space around them. “Anybody hurt?”

“Besides yourself?” Logan huffed, “Several students and staff have some scrapes and relatively minor injuries, only two students have injuries that require hospitalization.” Logan glanced down at Roman as the teen stiffened. Logan attempted a reassuring smile, which might have seemed simply uncomfortable in any other situation. “It’s just a couple of broken bones.”

Roman sighed, shoulders relaxing ever so minutely. “That’s good.”

“The school has been since called to evacuate.” Eyes wandering across the horizon, Logan swallowed, “I uh, called your parents. They never answered the phone.”

Roman nodded, “That- yeah, uh, they’re out.”

“Where? Who’s cell should I call?”

“I don’t know! It doesn’t-” Roman let out a huff, moving to shove himself from Logan’s arms, “It’s fine.”

Logan frowned, eyes flickering over Roman as he stood, legs slightly shaky. “Patton would very likely allow you to stay over at his place if you need to-”

Roman shook his head, he winced and gingerly pressed a hand against his temple, “I’ll be okay alone, alright?” Roman glanced around, “Where even is Pat?”

“He is- He and ...a student, are talking with the authorities.”

“What about Anxiety- I thought I heard him-”

Logan pursed his lips, “He, um. He was rather… rattled, so to speak, so… Thomas was going to talk to him.”

Roman scanned the crowd of students and staff, frowning. “Did you uh, happen to know what happened to Virgil- ya’know, that emo-y kid, he’s got a big black plaid hoodie on all the time-”

“With Patton.”

“Oh.” Roman nodded, “Okay. Okay. So he’s alright?”

Logan smiled minutely, “Yes. He’s okay. Just worried. Now-” Logan collected a juice box from beside him and patted the bench beside him, “Sit your stupid heroic butt down,” Logan stabbed the small straw through the juice box, holding it up, “and get some electrolytes and sugars in you. I promised that paramedic I’d force you to be healthy.”

Roman stuck out his tongue, but complied.

Virgil tapped his foot impatiently as he fiddled with his phone, “Can- Can I go now?”

The police officer glanced at him, “Your parent picking you up?”

Virgil glanced at Patton, who was now scanning the crowd. Virgil nodded, “Yeah, they’re probably gonna be by the back entrance so I’m just gonna-” Virgil vaguely pointed in that direction and then dashed off. If anyone protested, he didn’t hear it.

He skidded to a halt just behind Roman and Logan’s resting spot, their voices low.

Virgil cleared his throat and walked gingerly up to them, picking at the hem of his hoodie.

“Fine. I can call Dee I guess. Pat barely knows how to say no, I’m not gonna ask him.”

“Oh come on. He would offer himself if he knew-”

“I’m not. Asking. Pat.” Roman snapped his head towards Virgil and his eyes widened.

Virgil’s lips twitched into a lopsided smile as his eyes flickered to anywhere but Roman’s face.

“Hello Virgil,” Logan said conversationally, as if they’d met in a grocery store rather than outside an evacuated school.

Virgil nodded, “Hey.” He glanced over the pair and sighed, “I-”

“Are you ok?” Roman blurted, “I mean-” he vaguely waved at Virgil as a whole.

Virgil nodded again, heavily aware of every movement and sound. Virgil nodded once more, almost in an attempt to prevent another nod, “Yeah, I’m fine.” He jerked his head in Roman’s direction, “You ok?”

Roman smiled, “Practically perfect. Just a bit sore and maybe a touch bruised up.” He shrugged, “Had worse.”

“Yeah I know.” Virgil muttered darkly under his breath. Before Roman could open his mouth to inquire on That line of thought, Virgil tilted his head, “What are you not asking Mor- Patton?”

“Roman’s family is currently out of town apparently and I didn’t wish him to go home alone as he did pass out and someone should be observing him for at least overnight in case anything were to occur-”

“We get it Nerd-Mom.”

“Nerd-Mu- That is certainly not one of your better nicknames.”

Roman gasped, leaning back and pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded! I get an excuse!”

Virgil subdued a huff of a laugh and glanced at the concrete, “I- uh,” he made an aborted gesture, “If you uh, really need somewhere to stay I suppose- If you want to that is- I could ask my mom- if you could stay the night?”

Roman stilled, “I-” He shook his head, “I don’t wanna impose-”

Virgil smirked, “You? Sir Got-the-Whole-Class-to-Sing-Non-Stop-During-History-Class, not wanting to impose?

Roman ducked his head, “Mr. Tege deserved it and you know it.”

Virgil brushed back his bangs with a huffed laugh. Logan simply rolled his eyes. Virgil leaned down so he caught Roman’s eye. “I’ve found that… I kinda like when you show up and ‘impose.”

“Someone’s gotta get the emo out of his shell.”

Virgil raised a brow, smile becoming crooked and, one might even say a bit dopey.

“What?” Roman whined, “What’s that face for!”

“I just- Didn’t notice that’s what you were doing.”

“Oh my god. I’ve been trying to get you to do more than smirk for like, a week! Come on! I don’t even know if you’ve got pets! By now I at least would know that!”

Logan snorted.

Roman turned, “What are you so amused about?”

Logan shook his head, “I-um, I’ve gotta find Patton. Do- um, do continue.” Logan waved vaguely at the pair and promptly raced away.

“A cat.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve got a cat…”

“Virgil, I believe I am now required to go visit your house. I can’t not meet feline royalty.”

Biting the inside of his lip, Virgil tried his best to subdue a smile. (next)

#Superhero au #Magical Gays au #Virgil Sanders #Logan Sanders #Patton Sanders #Remus Sanders #Roman Sanders #Deceit Sanders #prinxeity #logicality #hurt/comfort #(he was mentioned briefly a couple of times so I'm tagging him)#like the pun in the title? :D #this is probably the Fastest update you'll get for this au Ever #(other than the first 2 updates)#crying #injury #not as heavy as the last update but still read the warnings folks #writing

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oveliagirlhaditright · 4 years

Text

A Buffy fic for @palizinhas‘s birthday (set in season six of Buffy and season three of Angel), because I had to. And I hope it’s okay for you, even though I don’t know if you like Bangel or Angel that much. But this was the only thing I thought I could write decently for the fandom with my first attempt at it. So...

But happy birthday regardless, hon!

Into the Light

"Angel... you can't just drop that news—that you've found a way for all vampires to become human?—and leave it there," Buffy said somewhat in a disapproving manner—surprising even herself, as she crossed her arms—since the reality of the situation hadn't quite hit her yet. She wasn't letting it. Angel walked through the swings on this playground, in order to get closer to Buffy. And the smirk he was wearing now reminded her much of when they’d first been dating, and they’d snipe at enemies together. Despite itself, her heart began beating fast in its ribcage. "I can, if it's your friend Tara working on it… and she maybe wants most of it kept a secret until she does or doesn't figure it out. Respect her wishes, Buffy."

Angel really had gotten better at acting, Buffy couldn’t help thinking now… Not that she thought he didn’t mean what he said—or that he wasn’t as excited to have found a way to be with her as he was letting on—but he’d figured out just the right words, tones, and facial expressions to up the ante on every single thing he did. And Buffy found herself getting lost in him.

But since their co-dependence had caused problems for them before—and she’d grown since then—Buffy tried to fight back against it, even if all she wanted to do was jump into his arms and cry right now. "But don't you think we should ask Willow instead?" Buffy argued... But she also somehow knew that she shouldn’t be. Both Willow and Xander had told Buffy of the dreams they'd had—when the first Slayer had tried to kill them all--where Willow had been cast in darkness, while Tara had always been in the light. And while Buffy didn't want to believe it meant anything, she also knew that it did. Slayer dreams always meant something… and if Tara really was the light in the darkness here, perhaps it was she who was perfect for this.

"Buffy, don't you know how perfect this is?!" Angel interrupted Buffy’s thoughts, almost as though he had read them. He was even closer to her now, and holding her hand and getting her all flustered… Which really shouldn’t have happened, given all that she’d done with Riley and the tame things she had done with Angel in comparison, but maybe Angel really was a livewire where she was concerned. Buffy wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information. "We can lead normal human lives together now. We can-"

“We can grow old and gray in a retirement home together, and talk about our glory days?” Buffy couldn’t help asking, as she was pulled back into a conversation from so many years ago—perhaps the best year of her life—and suddenly she was drowning in Angel, and all the could-have-beens they would have had, if the mayor had kept his big, fat mouth shut. And when Angel tried to kiss her here, she didn’t resist.

Since it was them, it didn’t take long for it to get heated: with the two of them somehow on the ground together, as Buffy ran one hand through Angel’s hair and another slipped under his shirt… and as he placed his lips to her neck and was then going down towards her stomach… which reminded Buffy of something.

And that perfect day of when she was with him in Los Angeles—really with him: as in Angel had found a magical way to become human alongside her, with him—came back to Buffy in flashes of white light behind her eyes, gasps for air, and tears down her cheek.

Buffy was on her feet in an instant, since she didn’t want to get hurt again, as she wrapped her arms around herself and started babbling both loving and amazed words, and accusatory ones."Angel... wait. I remember now. You were- you were human, and we were happy! But you- you gave it up—gave me up—so I, and the world, would be safe… And though it kills me, I understand why you did it! …So why are you acting differently now?" And seeing her cry seemed to awaken some protective instinct in Angel, like it often did. He stood up, too. And the vampire’s eyes widened, as he seemed to awaken from some sort of trance. "Oh, Buffy! I- I’m sosorry that I somehow made you remember that. I never wanted you to...

“I- I never should have come here, or selflessly bought into Tara’s promise, if she isn’t even sure she can make it. But everything with Connor has made me- But we don't belong to ourselves, Buffy. You're right. I should-" "Go, you said," Buffy repeated another long conversation of theirs, without even thinking about it. And this one was only natural to do so. Because at this point in her life, Angel leaving was just inevitable for so many reasons... even if it was the last thing she ever wanted. But if Angel were to leave now… Buffy knew she would never recover from it. And be even more of a shell than she’d been since Willow had revived her. Having the dream that she’d always wanted dangled in her face again, like a carrot, and then ripped away would have just been too cruel. So even though she wanted to protect her heart and not lose sight of her duty as the Slayer again… Buffy thought that maybe she did owe it to both of them—and to Tara—to give this possibility a chance.

"Angel, wait!" And Buffy's hand was now on her love’s arm, the way she had dreamed of it being there the night he left her life forever, as he walked between those firetrucks. "…It might notbe a lost cause, because... Even though we'd have to make sure Tara would be okay, and that no bad could come from this, what if this is the answer? The way to save countless vampire souls, your soul… maybe even Faith's, oddly enough... and mine? We could really have an answer here. But to figure that out, we have to talk to Tara, and you need to-"

"Stay." Angel finished Buffy’s thought again… but this one that was so uncharted, it made her happy and giddy at the thought of the new.

In that moment, Buffy wouldn't have said Angel’s smile was big, per se. How could it be, with the few things he’d recently told her about his son? …But it also seemed to completely light up this outdoor park in the dead of night.

And Angel did it. He stayed. As Wesley headed up Angel Investigations for him in L.A. and fought a few more apocalypses there, as Buffy and Angel dealt with some end of the worlds in good old Sunnydale. Then he was human.

A new memory was made in the light, as Angel kissed Buffy in the sunlight and she cried tears of joy... and Buffy noticed that Dawn stood in the background, approving of them for the first time ever.

Author’s Note: The last line is inspired by how Dawn said Angel always made Buffy cry, and she didn’t seem to like him for this, so as he gets her to cry tears of joy here and stays… Dawn finally approves. Yep.

And I left it up to the audience whether it was Tara’s spell that turned Angel human or the Shanshu Prophecy.

#gift #palizinhas #fanfiction #oneshot #buffy the vampire slayer #bangel #my work #mine #Shanna writes #my writing

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evien-stark · 4 years

Text

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 114

It was genuinely a lot to ask of you to keep your cool and not break down. But you were facing questions from police and had a child that was probably traumatized in your care- one that you’d brought into this dangerous situation- and- also- what if you and Tony had gone on vacation? Would all of these people there tonight have died because of you? And that man- being lifted out on a stretcher after the EMTs had called it- you’d had no choice- it was either him or Harley-

“Ma’am- are you still with me?” A detective just trying to do her job. Failing because she was dealing with a partially shell shocked Avenger. Must have not been an easy night for her. Everyone was struggling.

“I’m sorry. Where was I…?” Letting yourself speak but drifting again as you saw an EMT hand Tony his jacket back and drape a blanket over Harley’s shoulders in its place. They’d checked you out earlier and suggested you really needed to go to the hospital. An idea you waved off, telling them to just pack your wound with gauze and wrap some medical tape around it.

The bullet had gone clean through and it would be looking better by tomorrow. Aside from that you had no time to deal with a useless visit to the emergency room right now. The guests that had fled were being placed back in the building just to keep them all in one place for questioning. They were all also trying to give you and Tony their heartfelt thanks for saving their lives- and of course their valuables. Almost everything being said to you was going in one ear and out the other.

At least until you heard Happy’s familiar voice arguing with some of the police posted at the front door. “Get outta my way! I’m- do you not see my badge? I’m head of Stark security!” Looking up you waved with the arm currently not throbbing in pain, signaling the officers to let him through. He came barreling right up to you, though took stock of Tony and Harley sitting a few feet away. “I got here as soon as I could.” Putting his arm around you in a careful hug.

One you were surprised at how much you appreciated. You half-returned it. “Thank you, Happy. Can you pull the car around back? I don’t want any press bothering us.”

He nodded. “Yeah, alright. ...how’s the kid?”

An unexpected flash of sadness and guilt hit you so hard it nearly knocked you off your feet. Moving your hand to cover up a hitch of a sob that seemed to strike from nowhere. When he reached out again you just shook your head. “I’m sorry- I just- I need to go home- I’m okay-”

You had thought you’d been doing something good for Harley. By manipulating him into wanting to be here. The end goal was part of a greater good, so everything else was easy to excuse, right? Right? Wasn’t that what you were always telling yourself? In this life of extreme gray areas… where did it all stop?

Happy stood there for too long a moment, staring at you. Feeling something quite terrible for seeing you like this. Maybe you were all suffering under the same strain. He then just nodded and walked away- saying a few quick words to Tony before exiting again. Yet your selfishness continued, as you realized your heart was weeping over the loss of a life you’d never have.

This had just been a charity gala. And yet sinister people had invaded it and taken the evening away from everyone there. And a child you were looking after nearly paid the price. What if it had actually been your child? But it would never be your child. And this was why. You had no regrets falling in love with Tony, pairing your life so intimately with his. But that’s what this was. Your life with him was only this. It could only ever be this.

You hoped it was fair to let yourself grieve just a little for the concept of maybe one day having a normal life, a normal family, having to be buried now.

Get it together. The only thing you allowed yourself to think after, especially when you caught both Tony and Harley looking up at you. Trying not to make even more of a scene you carefully turned away, pulling out your cell phone. “LUNA get me Maria Hill, complete encryption.”

The line rang twice before she answered. “Seems like you’re having a busy evening.” It was probably all over the news by now.

“Oh, you know. Just doing our jobs. ...listen, I know you said you need something a little more substantial. Can you take charge on Damage Control? I need some movement on this.”

“Sure thing. Little bit early for a promotion, but it beats filing applications. What’s going on?”

“We’ve got Hydra agents posing as SHIELD. They tried to blow up the building. I doubt they’ll talk to the cops. I also doubt this is the last time they’ll try and pull this stunt.”

“And maybe you won’t be there next time. Yeah. Got it.” The disappointment in her voice wasn’t hard to catch, especially paired with the sigh she let go of. It was always something. “I’ll contact Coulson. He’s working with the last remaining live agents in the division.”

You had a lot of questions about that… because it sounded an awful lot like SHIELD was still up and running. Just in a much smaller capacity. Now just wasn’t the time. “Okay. I trust you. Whatever you need to get the job done, it’s yours.”

“Even better.”

The goodbyes were quick after that. With the cops mostly finished taking all the information down you had to give, and now sufficiently distracted with everything else they had to clean up, you went back over to Tony and Harley. As he handed you your purse, found amongst things about to be entered into evidence and pilfered, “Happy has the car pulled around back. Let’s go home.”

Harley, thank god, seemed a little less paralyzed and disturbed than he had an hour ago. “Shouldn’t you go to the hospital?”

You served a weak smile. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Standing, Tony slung his jacket over his shoulder and offered a hand to help Harley stand. “We’ll stitch her up back at the Tower, don’t worry.” Easily lying because… now was not the time to go into all that. “So. What did you think of your first fancy party? As bad as we promised?”

Relief washed over you when Harley grinned, weak though it was. “The part before all the shooting wasn’t that bad. I still think you’re both being babies.” Resilient and tough. ...how lucky you were that was the case. When fresh chilly air greeted you around the back of the building, he looked up at you before getting in the car. “Can you teach me to fight like that?”

Tony nudged his back. “She’s cooler than you thought, right? You can admit it.”

The ribbing earned an embarrassed groan and a little shove. “Stop.” A whine, too, before Harley disappeared into the back of the car.

With him gone, you allowed yourself a little bit of gentle reprieve, turning to wrap your good arm around Tony’s middle, burying your face against his shoulder. It was the best feeling in the world, having him hold you back with that steady squeeze. His voice was low when he spoke. “Thanks for saving the day.”

“You, too.” Breathing both words out.

You felt the hitch of his chest in a dry short one-note laugh. “I just pulled some wires. You cleared out all the bad guys.”

“You pulled the right wires.” Easing up to press a kiss to his cheek.

As you moved, he lifted his hands, cupping your cheeks in his palms. Gazing at you in that deep sort of way. “You okay?” Asked after another long moment.

“That’s not really a discussion we have time for right now.”

He dipped his head in a small nod. “Understandable.”

...and yet… “...it was him or Harley.” Saying it. Saying it so that the universe understood. So that the thought would go away.

Regarding you for another long moment, his thumb swiped just underneath your eye in a careful stroke. “It was.” He hadn’t even seen what had happened, but already he agreed. Already he was by your side. “Don’t beat yourself up over this.”

Anxiety spiked in the back of the car so close to you, and you dropped your head. “Are you eavesdropping?” Raising your voice to Harley who most definitely was.

He poked his head out of the car, sitting sideways with his legs dangling, head down. Hands pressed together. Thinking. “You’re talking about him- that guy- but you did what you were supposed to-” Struggling, same as you, with what had just happened.

Dropping to a kneel you opted to try for comfort, laying a careful hand on his shoulder. “Harley, I did what I had to, not what I was supposed to. ...or even what I wanted to.”

Confusion took him. “But- you’re an Avenger. You kill bad guys all the time.”

“I don’t when I can avoid it. Taking a life should never be easy, Harley. No matter who you are. It isn’t for me. I know it’s not for Tony, either. Or any of the other Avengers. We do it when we’re locked into situations when there’s no other choice.”

Who were you really trying to convince here?

He purposefully kept his head down. “It was my fault.” Avoiding your eyes as he squirmed with these terrible feelings.

“You tried to help me.” Even if he’d disobeyed- and, yes, even if it had been his fault- you couldn’t pin this on a child. Never. He didn’t have the cognitive ability to think something like that through. To assess the entire situation, to figure out all his resources- and, yes, even to follow orders. He sprung into action to do what he thought was best, to do what he could.

Tony put his hands in his pockets. “We all make mistakes, kid. It’s not easy being under that kind of pressure. You jumped into action to help. That’s better than most.”

If the Avengers had ever made an after-school special, you imagined it’d be exactly something like this. But it was important to… what was the phrase for debriefing a child? God- had it really come to that? Decompress and discuss, you supposed. But Harley very quickly hit his tolerance for learning a lesson and talking about all of this heavy stuff. His hands pressed together before he turned back around to sit a little more fully in the car. “Can we go somewhere and get dinner?” Deciding it was time to stop talking about this stuff.

That was fine. Your nerves were wearing thin, too. But. You made a mental note to ask Deja for a list of child therapists later… “Sure. Anywhere you’d like.” Once he moved you edged down to get into the car with him.

Tony was not far behind, and after he closed the door he held up a finger, “She means that literally. So don’t blow this.”

“What about… Denny’s?”

Putting a hand to his chest, Tony gave off an award-winning air of offense. “I’ve been slaving away every morning to make you breakfast- you get one chance to go to the fanciest place you’ve ever been in your life- and you pick Denny’s?” Two huge offenses in one. “You could have just told me you didn’t like my cooking. Would’ve been easier to swallow.”

His antics seemed to lift Harley’s mood, probably precisely why he was going on about it. You gave him a little pat on the leg. “To be fair, you didn’t make pancakes with smiley faces on them.”

“Is that the measure of a good pancake? I’ll remember this for next time. And not in a good way.” Huffing and puffing, though in the darkness of the backseat you caught the edge of his grin, when Harley found the courage to laugh.

Reaching forward you gave Happy a little touch to his arm. “Do you know where the nearest Denny’s is?”

“GPS says Brooklyn… we’re going all the way to Brooklyn for pancakes?” Looking up into the rearview, making sure this was real life.

Easing back with a sigh, Tony put his arm around you. “Seems that way, doesn’t it?”

----

Full of two smiley pancake stacks and adrenaline of the night completely worn off, Harley was out like a light before the car even pulled up to the Tower. You had Happy make sure that not only would the restaurant be empty, but you established a dead zone a mile out from the Tower upon pull-up. And it was a good thing you did. Tony ended up having to carry a very passed out Harley all the way upstairs.

It was hard. All of this was hard. There was a deep resonating pang that wrecked you so completely. It was strange, to feel such devastation, watching Tony carry a sleeping child in his arms so carefully- tuck him into bed so gently- after an evening that almost certainly proved you could never have this. Strange, too, when years before the two of you had given each other wide-eyed stares over a Plan-B cocktail-

Something of his own invention. Something he was so deeply used to that he’d had it at the ready the very next morning after things had gotten wonderfully hot and heavy. Had you wanted kids? Had you wanted kids with Tony? It didn’t matter anymore. This was all proof that that sort of life wasn’t yours to have. How could you knowingly and willingly expose a new life to this?

Halfway through a too-hot shower you grieved. As quietly as possible so as to not disturb Tony in the next room. Grieved a life the two of you had only barely talked about, never really investigated, and would never have anyway. You could get by- you were fine with the idea that it was just the two of you. You loved him. Dearly. Desperately. Unfathomably so. Bringing another life into this world with him- that wasn’t everything. And it didn’t mean you couldn’t be a family, just the two of you. And Dvahli, of course. But…

You must have wanted it. Somewhere in you… you must have wanted the chance to have that. For Tony to be a wonderful father. For you to nurture a small soul that only the two of you could have. And in knowing, now, you never could, it also put an end to wondering if life would ever be normal. You’d gone to a charity banquet that had had a bomb planted in it. And not so long ago aliens had attacked the city.

There was no normal. It just didn’t exist. You and Tony had been handed- given- maybe even forced to own keys of heroism. The knowledge and the power to do the right thing. To help people. To take a stand. To save lives. There would never be a time when that wouldn’t be the case. It had never been more clear than tonight. You would have to make peace with that. And to do that… you had to grieve the loss of a normal life- the one you’d had, minutes before Pepper had said she was resigning. From that moment on…

Everything had changed. Nothing was the same. You were burying your old notions, your old wishes- even buried as they were, your old… everything. You needed to grieve this loss of self and future. So you did.

Tony’s sudden presence spooked you- when you’d gotten out of the shower after perhaps too long a time. He had his hand on the door frame, and the way he was looking at you said all you really needed to know. Eyes soft with a telling sheen of wetness, and a sad longing gaze.

“Sorry.” Your voice was a weak murmur as you wrapped a towel around yourself.

Bypassing you, he moved to the mirror cabinet above the sink, pulling out some bandages. The wound on your arm was closed, but angry and red still, not fully healed. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” Nudging you then to sit back on the counter.

A motion you followed without thought, looking away as he carefully wrapped your arm back up. “I made you feel-”

“I can have my own feelings, too, you know.” Quiet, not angry. But tight. Perhaps trying to hold that cracking wall at bay. That one sentence pushed you past your own selfishness. Because you were not grieving alone. Tony, clearly, had been thinking about this too. And probably had come to the same conclusion. “Mothering hasn’t really been an interest of mine, but… the way you are with the kid-”

“Don’t.” Ejected out of you almost in a panic, reaching your other hand up to touch over his heart. It was his heartbreak that threatened to end you completely. The way he was looking at you. The way he was feeling. Deep blues just spilling out of him. “...you would make a good father, Tony, but… it’s so obvious now. We can never have that.”

He finished tying off your fresh bandage. “Alright- well- first of all- let’s not start telling each other lies. I don’t exactly have the pedigree.” Flash of a hurt grin crossing him before he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. “But... never say never.”

“I am saying never.” There was no way to make peace with this unless you were both on the same page. Why was he being so stubborn? “I love you. This life is hard but… it’s good. The way it is. And it has to be. Because we can’t-”

“Why can’t we?” The look he was giving you was just shy of pleading. “I told you… I’m working on something. Let’s get past the concept phase before we start offing possibilities. Alright?”

You shared a long gaze with him, for about as long as you could. Then weakness found you, and you crumbled forward, wrapping your arms around him, hiding your face in the side of his neck. “...is this something you even want?”

“What? A life with you? Crazy concept.” He huffed out a bitter sounding laugh, holding you back. Tightly.

“A life doesn’t have to have… that.” Scared to even say it after all this. “We have a life right now.”

“Yeah, and we’ll have a different one, when I’m done. Quieter. Better. And if… that fits into it… if it’s something you want…” His hands moved up to hold the sides of your face, if only so he could break your cowardice, lifting your head so the two of you could face each other again.

You reached up, your own hands holding at his wrists. Just looking at him. Terribly bare to each other for this small moment in time. “...is it something you want?”

His smile was a nice consolation prize. “Honey, we’re very soon going to enter into a feedback loop. And- I asked first.”

A brief feeling of wetness graced your eyes, and you were having a hard time figuring out if they were good or bad tears. “You did not. ...but ask me again after this thing you’re working on is past concept and through launch.”

He seemed hurt- for barely a second- but there was no hiding it from you. Pressing his lips together, his eyes lowered with a nod. “Yeah. That’s… that’s completely fair.”

The two of you held each other together for the rest of the night, perhaps as you always did, with small kisses, long embraces, and words of love. Filling in the cracks as best as you could right then. It was all you could do.

----

It was a true testament to just how worn down Tony was, and just how wound up you were, when early the next morning (a measly one hour after you’d felt yourself fall asleep) you were awake. And he was dead asleep. He’d more than earned the right to sleep in. So you got up as quietly as possible and resisted a loving caress at his temple or a kiss at his cheek. No matter how much you wanted to, scared you’d ruin one of the only truly peaceful places he got to be in.

You were just as carefully silent as you rolled on some deodorant and then slipped into a pair of leggings, sports bra, and Stark Industries zip-up, taking your sneakers out with you. Harley was up. No surprise. Sitting on the couch watching what seemed to be a Pixar film- Monsters Inc? Or maybe it was the sequel… The bright lights pinged your temples, setting off a resonating pain. Or maybe it was just everything else that had a headache brewing.

You tried to ignore it as best as you could. What was a surprise- “You’re really still eating?” Asked as you sat down next to him on the couch, starting to lace up your shoes. This child had a bottomless pit for a stomach, munching on a bowl of cereal.

Perhaps not even his first, considering the box of Captain Crunch and the jug of milk were sitting on the coffee table. He just gave a shrug. “What’re you doing up?”

“I was going to go for a run and then get some coffee.” A good way to exorcise all this frantic energy and sour feelings. The treadmill would have been fine, but going out for some fresh air seemed more ideal. Then you’d waste it by amping up your caffeine. Solid plan.

He quickly slurped up the rest of his cereal, testing your patience with how annoying a noise it was, and then set the bowl down loudly. “Can I come with you?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “You’ll barf in the first five minutes.” The kid was full of food and now full of milk, too. He’d never make it.

“Will not.” Grumpy. “I can do it. Let me come with you.” There was a twinge of desperation here that you couldn’t place. He really wanted to go. You just weren’t sure why. Safest place for him was here in the Tower, so why did he want to go outside so badly?

Finishing an extra tight double knot on your shoes, you sat up with a little stretch of your arms. “Why do you want to go?” Deciding to just ask rather than speculate. Sometimes that worked.

But he gave a shrug and looked away. “I dunno.” You made a pointed eye-roll and stood to stretch out your muscles and joints a little more. Staying silent. Waiting for him to either give in and answer or ignore you. In which case you were sure he knew he wasn’t coming then. How important was this to him? ...well… “...you do it. For training. Right?”

Oh. “I like to stay fit because it helps, yes. But this is- ...I just want to go for a run. It’s not that serious.”

He made a face at you. “What do you mean?” Clearly confused. “I hate gym in school- they make you run for no reason all the time. Why would you wanna do that?”

“It just helps sometimes.”

“Helps with what?”

Gee-golly-gosh. You were suddenly rethinking last night’s sorrow. Kids were really annoying when they wanted to be. “It helps clear my head.”

“Why? Of what?”

“Okay, Harley. You can come with me. Go get changed.”

He’d won this battle. And not in a way he’d like.

----

He barely made it ten minutes, in his pajama pants, no less. Seeing as how his little shopping trip with Happy had only resulted in tees, hoodies, jeans, and a single pajama set. ...too late now to regret not having supervised that trip. But his complaining, wheezing, and eventual falling behind had you slowing. And slowing more. And…

After that it eventually just became a comfortable walk through Central Park. It wasn’t doing you any favors of helping yourself, but Harley seemed to be enjoying himself so… that was important, too. Especially considering the heavy guilt you were still facing for getting him into all this mess in the first place.

Conversation was trite yet not entirely meaningless. You found yourself fielding Avengers questions. Harley’s interest in the hero life seemed to have spiked infinitely after last night’s dealings. You supposed that was to be expected.

“How come I never see anyone but you guys and Dr. Banner?”

“Everyone else has their own things going on. They show up from time to time. It’s not like they’re hiding from you.”

“Where’s Thor?”

“Probably somewhere with Jane- Dr. Foster.”

“Who’s that?” “His girlfriend.”

“Oh. Gross. What about Captain America?”

“Out on a mission.”

“Black Widow?” “Same.”

“Hawkeye??” “He went dark after SHIELD fell apart. I think he’s taking it pretty hard.” Honestly, you had no idea what the hell Clint was doing. He’d been entirely unavailable and Nat had told you to leave him alone. Considering she knew him better than you ever would… you couldn’t do anything but respect that.

“What does going dark mean?”

“It’s when an agent cuts all communication for a while and stays off the grid.”

“What if he’s in trouble?” “He’s not.”

“But how do you know?”

“I-”

Someone had sneaked up behind you. They’d been following for a little while now, but you assumed it was probably just paparazzi. Nothing to get worked up about. And certainly nothing to cause a scene over, especially with Harley right next to you. But while you were busy fielding endless questions, they’d gotten close enough to put a hand on your shoulder. Startling enough to kick your instincts into overdrive.

With your opposite hand you reached up, pinning their wrist, and then slid your other arm up to trap their movements. Then you twisted their arm up and around, pulling them forward and holding them down in a lock. It was over in a matter of seconds. “Big mistake.”

“Fuckin’- get offa me!”

Harley had jumped back. You stayed steady. “You think you can just put your hands on me and get away with it?”

“...dad?”

If it wasn’t Harley’s shocking revelation, it was the fact that you noticed a reporter- wouldn’t you know it- a WHiH reporter- same one that had been following you the entire week- with his camera up. Recording this whole interaction. ...so that’s what they’d been doing. You released the man immediately, less fodder for them to say you attacked him. But you were quick and careful, stepping half in front of Harley. A little surprised, too, when he clung close, peering out from your side. You kept your attention focused forward. “What do you want?”

“Me? Are you outta your mind? You steal my kid and you ask what I want? You’re something else.” He was raising his voice. Causing a scene. Very purposefully. This was not going to end well for one of you.

“Harley came to us under our Internship program-”

“What a buncha horse shit. His mamma didn’t sign no papers- and neither did I. So whose permission is he here on?” His fists were bunched at his sides. Getting over-dramatically angry. For the camera. And the people now stopping to watch.

“How much is WHiH paying you? They put you on a plane? Bring you here?”

He stayed stunned for only a moment. “That ain’t got nothing to do with this.”

“Oh. Sure it does. But, that’s besides the point. I assure you we have the correct paperwork. Would you like to come look at it?” You had some, but you could always forge more, if need be. Didn’t seem like this family was really cohesive. You’d wager you’d win that court battle. Not that you needed it to go that far. “Or why don’t we cut to the chase, and tell me the payout you’re looking for.”

“My kid’s worth more to me than money.”

Before you could open your mouth, Harley’s hands were on the back of your legs, using you for stability as he craned over and shouted, “Since when!? Go away! No one asked you to be here!”

His father pointed a striking finger his way. “You shut your mouth, boy. Do as you’re told. Get over here. Now. Or else.”

It was the easy and heavy fear he struck in Harley’s heart that made your next actions easier. You stood much firmer. “You’re not touching this kid. Now we can settle this civilly-”

“Fuck you and your corporate bullshit talk. You’re not taking my son for your little child-army. We’re gonna go to court and take everything you got.”

This absolutely blew you away. “Is that the story WHiH thinks they’re running? Christine is out of her fucking mind.” Child army?! Seriously? That’s the best she could do?

“Fuck you and your fucking company. And your fucking pussy-ass boyfriend and all your little pissant Avengers horseshit. You’re gonna get what’s comin’ to you.”

You found yourself nodding. Okay. That’s how you feel? “You seem very angry. We really don’t have to do this. I don’t want to. I’d like to take you to the office and we can talk. But you’re just riled up aren’t you?” Projecting wave after wave, turning his ripples the nastiest red until he was shaking. Deep in that space you gave him a little shove. “Would you like to calm down?”

Attack me.

“Fuck you!”

Reacting like an exploding volcano. One rush of footsteps with a fist extended. You side swept to keep Harley behind you, while catching his father’s wrist easily and twisting him down onto one knee. His sharp gasps of pain and subsequent begging did nothing to help him. Leaning in, raising his arm just to the point of breaking up on his back you kept your voice low and close to his ear. “Let’s try this again. And we’re going to do it my way. I expect some honesty. You know what that is, don’t you? Something genuine?”

“I don’t understand- what the fuck do you want you crazy bitch-” He was panicking.

But that was easy to turn into your advantage. “You ever put your hands on Harley?”

“I- What’s that got to do with-”

“Answer me. You’re in a very weak position. Some truth will do you good.” Convincing him was a snap.

“Sometimes- yes-”

“What about his sister?”

“When she needs to learn a lesson.”

“Their mother?”

“Yeah- her too- bitch has it coming more often than not-” You didn’t mean to break his arm. Really. Truly. But it sort of just happened anyway. Maybe it was minor. His yelp got you to stop fairly quickly, releasing him to let him stand. You stayed close as he swayed, clutching his shoulder. “You’re fucking crazy- you’re gonna pay for this-”

“You attacked me.” Laying it out straight. But, unthreatened, you came close even as he stiffened and looked like he might try to strike again. When you were just close enough, you lowered your voice enough for only the two of you to hear. “Listen to me. Very carefully. I know it must be hard carrying around all that. Knowing you’ve been such a shitty person. I know you must feel terrible. Guilty. You feel awful. Don’t you?”

“I… I…” He was fogging over. Faster than most. Easy to manipulate, seeing as there was very little in the space between his ears.

“The weight of it is crushing you. What you’ve done. How you’ve hurt this family.”

He shook his head. “It’s not… it’s not my fault… god- they just don’t fucking get it-”

“Yes it is. And you know it.” Tears started. “God- I dunno- what do I do? What is...” “Here’s what you’re going to do.” Shoulder to shoulder with him then, you leveled a hard gaze on him, and in that bright space you laid your hand on him one more time. Imparting to him exactly this: “You feel the weight of your actions- so heavy it’s killing you. You’re going to turn around. And walk. Walk as far as you can until you can’t anymore. You’re going to stay away from Harley. His sister. His mother. Forever. Isn’t that right? You feel like that’s the right thing to do.”

“I’m gonna… stay away- but… where should I go…?”

“Let that guilt carry you. Help people, to make up for everything you’ve done. I think that’s a great idea. Let your guilt carry you all the way to some godforsaken place that needs help. Make amends there. And never come back. Do you understand me? But the first and last thing you should do is apologize to him.”

Like an empty shell he simply nodded, taking in anything you were giving him to fill all the holes you’d just poked inside of him. Looking beyond you, to Harley, he offered something extremely pitiable. “Harl… I’m… I’m sorry. For… everything.” And then, half turning he started murmuring. “I’m leaving now… I’ll go…”

You stayed. Watching. Waiting. But Harley suddenly running out a couple feet past you that had you nervous. “Where are you going!?” Coming to a dead stop, imploring as he turned to look at you. “Where’s he going? He can’t just fucking leave!” There was no correct answer. It was why Harley didn’t wait to look away from you and back to the retreating form of his father. “Hey! FUCK YOU. I HATE YOU.” And when that didn’t serve to make his father stop, he ran further and you found yourself chasing after. Coming to a stop just as he walked right in front of his father, putting his hands up to push at him. “Are you listening to me?! I fucking hate you! You ruined everything! I hate you- I HATE YOU-!”

But his father no longer belonged to himself, and treated him simply like the obstacle he was. Shoving him. Hard enough to get him to stumble, but you moved in to steady him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Harley… let him go…”

He was shaking. Hands down tight at his sides. “I hate him- I hate him-... how can he just- how can just fucking take off- again- after all this- I HATE YOU!” Dropping to your knees, you tried to get him in a sturdier grip, but he was shivering violently, whipping his head from side to side. “I hate him- I hate him-!”

“Harley.” Just a sharp enough call to break him free of this endless loop.

But it punched through him completely. Caused him to jump and then well up with hot shame that then soon drowned in a sudden tsunami of pain. His hands went to his face as the tears started. “I hate him…” Voice pitching in a sob.

He’d been holding on for so long. And it was all breaking now. Reaching up you did the only thing you could. You put your arms around him and drew him in. He fought for only a second before giving in completely. Just crying against you. Reaching up you pressed on one of your cuff earrings, while your other arm wrapped snug around him. “LUNA, get Happy. I need security on my location immediately.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

This was too much for anyone to handle, let alone a twelve year old. Last night, and now this. You could only imagine Harley had built this moment up- standing up to his father- probably ever since the man had come back. You also knew this was probably not how he thought it would go. Would any circumstance have lived up to it? Had you done the right thing? There was no changing some people. That man would never change. You were sure of it. Sending him away was merciful. Maybe mercy he didn’t deserve. But it was the best you could do. Now he’d never hurt Harley or their family again. And yet…

Like everything else in your life, you just had to hope you’d made the right decision. Live with the consequences either way. And lose sleep over the ghosts of what-if...

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter One Hundred Fourteen

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inu-jiru · 4 years

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Tomoe, The Eastern Tigress - Chapter Five

Chapter Five - The Strength of Ohu

The forest echoed with the collective drumming of paws. 20 dogs were running to Gajou and at the lead was Ben. His mate, Cross, remained at his side, acting as his eyes. Even though the Great Dane was thirteen years of age and well beyond the point of retiring, the male still ran with the swiftness of a one-year-old. Behind the couple, Kurotora, Moss, Musashi and Wilson followed. After them were Kurotora’s other two sons, Harutora and Nobutora, as well as their cousins, Shigure, Shōji, Buru and Dodo. The remaining dogs were survivors of the previous battles against Kaibutsu and the human hunters. Though the group was small, their hearts all beat together as one. If Ken said that they could possibly beat Kaibutsu today, then that was what they’d do.

The group arrived at Gajou, seeing the remains of Ken and Kagetora’s shared platoon, as well as some dogs they didn’t quite recognize, huddled together around something, or some one.

“Oi!” Kurotora called out, catching everyone’s attention. “We’re here! Where’s the bastard!?”

“Did you kill him already?” Moss barked. “That’d be a damn shame, haha!”

“You’re all here!” Ken shouted back, running to meet his father. Cross quickly grabbed the old Dane’s collar, forcing him to stop just before he could slam his son.

“Thanks, Cross,” Ben said with a nod. “And of course we’re here, son. It’s time we take Paradise back.”

“I was beginning to worry,” huffed Kurotora as he approached his own son. “Thought something happened to you. I wanted to go out and look, but your cousins said no. Hmph! The nerve of those youngsters! Telling me no!”

“But Uncle...” said Shōji with a sheepish grin. “We wouldn’t want anything happening to you...”

“Bah! I’m the one who’s supposed to be worrying about you kids!”

The two groups merged together, Ken and Kage relaying the day’s events. They reintroduced the older dogs to Tomoe, who they’d only heard had survived until now.

“Such a strong girl, Tomoe!” Moss threw his massive paws around the smaller Shepherd’s frame, pulling her into a tight hug. Though it was a bit difficult to breathe, Tomoe still managed to smile. Of all the Ohu Veterans, Moss had to have been her favorite, aside from her father.

“Alright, alright,” said Jiyū worriedly, pawing at the Mastiff’s forelegs. “Easy now. Wouldn’t wanna break her, would we?”

Ken then introduced Weed and the other newcomers. Upon seeing the young Akita mix, the older dogs grew silent as they took in the familiar sight. They’d always thought Tomoe’s resemblance to John was uncanny but this was something different all together. It was as if time had gone backwards and Gin was standing before them as a six-month-old. Weed, meanwhile, stared at the Veterans with a fast-beating heart. All of these dogs he’d heard of in his mother’s stories, but actually meeting them was overwhelming. Their auras were so great, so strong...

“So what’s next?” asked Shigure after the introductions were done. He looked towards Gajou. “We aren’t really just gonna leave his body in there, are we?”

“The scientists from our facility will come to pick up his body,” Jerome explained. “Unfortunately, they may have to destroy your stronghold. Sorry.”

There were groans. Not only would that mean that the Veterans and their families would lose their dens, but it would also mean that a great landmark, one they’d spent days protecting, would fall to ruin, all because a few humans wanted to play God. Tomoe spat on the ground, irritably. No wonder her mother hated humans so much.

RUMBLE!

Without warning, the ground began to shake. There were yelps and cries of alarm as the dogs all struggled to keep their footing. Tomoe looked at Gajou. The stones and boulders keeping it together were shifting, as if something was attempting to push its way out.

“No...” Tomoe’s eyes widened with disbelief. “He’s not...”

“He’s not dead!?” Smith cried out. “That’s impossible!”

A massive rock was pushed onto the ground, cracking slightly from the impact. A gaping hole was left behind, a large figure emerging from the stronghold. The light of the moon reflected off the chain dangling from his leg. A toeless paw was held close to the beast’s chest, still dripping blood. Kaibutsu lifted his head, vibrant, green eyes flashing with the desire to survive. He leapt from where he stood, landing in front of the small militia of dogs and letting out a roar. Some of the soldiers flinched, trembling in fear.

“Stand your ground, soldiers!” ordered Ben. The Dane stood tall, showing no fear on his face. He had scored first blood on Akakabuto long ago; a little roar wasn’t going to scare him. “Surround Kaibutsu! Don’t let him--!”

“No!” Jerome interrupted, looking at the old male. “Tell your followers to stay back! This is a job for us assassins!”

“Don’t speak to my father that way!” Ken snapped. “As of right now, he’s the man in charge, not you!”

“Jerome...” A new, guttural voice suddenly spoke aloud. The argument was temporarily dropped as everyone turned towards Kaibutsu. The monster was focused on the Shepherd, his gaze uncharacteristically soft for someone who’d spent the past six months slaughtering humans and dogs.

“That bastard can talk...?” Tomoe murmured to herself.

“Why are you siding with the humans, Jerome? Why? After everything they’ve done to me, why won’t you just leave me alone?”

“After all you’ve done, bastard,” Kurotora hissed. “Why should anyone give a damn about what’s happened to you?” There were murmurs of agreement all throughout the crowd. Kaibutsu shot a glare at the black Kai, growling.

“Kaibutsu,” Jerome finally spoke, bringing the monster’s attention back to him. “I side with humans because that's what a dog is supposed to do.”

Somewhere in the crowd, Jiyū scoffed.

“Dogs have been the servants of humans for thousands of years,” Jerome continued. “Going against that is foolish. What you did, however, is unforgivable.”

“What about what they’ve done, huh?” Kaibutsu snarled. “For three years, they’ve had me locked in that facility, torturing me and turning me into this. You were there, Jerome. You heard my screams. I begged you to help me every day. But all I got in return were empty promises. You gave me the will to live, and now you want me dead. Have the humans damaged your mind that much?”

“You should’ve stood up to the pain,” said Jerome in a matter-of-fact tone. Some of the dogs nearby glanced at him, shocked and appalled. Just how brainwashed was this male? “Regardless what an owner does, a dog has to put up with it. That’s the duty we dogs have.”

“You’re wrong!” Jiyū couldn’t listen to Jerome’s nonsense anymore. Everyone, even Kaibutsu, focused on her as she stormed towards the male Shepherd. His followers jumped in front of him, ready to protect him for any sort of attack. “No dog should have to lie down and take abuse! I won’t excuse what Kaibutsu did, but how dare you lecture him when you believe in that crap!”

“Jiyū!” Cross barked. “I don’t buy what he says either, but now isn’t the time to fight each other!”

“Back away,” Rocca warned, his eyes locked with the female’s. Kaibutsu let out a chuckle.

“How fascinating,” he hummed. “I’m glad to see that not all dogs are as blinded by loyalty as you, Jerome. Such a shame that I can’t spare any of you Ohu soldiers. If I’d known you’d felt that way about humans, you would’ve made great allies.”

“You’d NEVER be our ally, Kaibutsu!” Tomoe howled. “Murderer! Cannibal!”

“Your crimes are too great to ignore, Kaibutsu!” Ben announced. “You suffered at the hands of humans, you say? Then allow us to end your pain! Ohu! Prepare for attack!”

“SIR!”

“Jerome,” Robert whispered to his leader. “Shall we...?”

“Mmm.” The Shepherd nodded. He then dashed off to the side, sprinting away from Gajou. “You three, follow my lead.”

“Eh...?” GB began, staring after the group of assassins. “Where are those guys off to...?”

“This way, P4!” Jerome shouted to Kaibutsu. The name of his place of torture struck a nerve with Kaibutsu. As his vision went red, the beast chased after the four dogs.

“DON’T call me that!”

Kaibutsu’s gait was awkward, as to be expected from a creature forced to run on only three legs. He lagged behind the assassins greatly. Ben, aided by Cross, began following Kaibutsu.

“After him!” ordered Ben. “Musashi! Moss!”

The two large males took the lead as the militia of around 31 dogs began the chase. Known throughout the army for their great strength, both males reached Kaibutsu’s hind legs and bit down just below the knee. With fierce grunts, they yanked back. Kaibutsu was forced back, his foreleg caving underneath him. He fell with a bellow onto his stomach. Up ahead, the assassins slowed to a halt.

“They’re interfering again...!” a frustrated Robert huffed.

“Easy,” said Jerome, watching the scene intensely. “We’ll have to improvise, but we may be able to use this.”

“Get back!” Musashi grunted as he and Moss used their combined strength to hoist Kaibutsu up. The massive creature howled in alarm as he was tossed over the heads of the dogs. Everyone moved as quickly as they could, the last few dogs just barely avoiding Kaibutsu’s back shell as it slammed against the ground. His belly was now exposed.

“This is our chance!” Ken shouted.

“Attack his belly!” barked Kurotora, and the soldiers obeyed, throwing themselves on Kaibutsu’s belly while Moss and Musashi kept a tight hold on his legs. He looked around, spotting his sons and nephews. “You Kais! Remember what I’ve taught you!”

“HRAH!” Kagetora joined his brothers and cousins. The all leapt into the air together, their bodies moving in wild, snake-like patterns. In one, booming voice, they yelled: Attack of the seven-headed serpent! Ran Daryushin-Battōga!”

Amazing...! Weed thought as he watched the Kais strike the beast’s belly. The Battouga made their bites stronger, and what would normally be a simple bite now cut deeply into the muscle.

“Robert,” Jerome said, feeling that now was the time to act out his new plan. “Go.”

“Sir,” was Robert’s reply as he darted towards the downed Kaibutsu. The time had come. The assassins had been trained for this very moment. Just before he reached Kaibutsu, he jumped up and over the attacking dogs. He landed with his fangs clamping down on the monster’s chest. His sudden entrance in the fight had caught several dogs off guard. For a split second, Moss’ grip loosened on Kaibutsu’s right hind paw. This was the chance the monster needed. He brought back his hind paw and suddenly lashed out with it, knocking Moss several feet away.

“Uncle Moss!” Shigure called, looking up from his place on Kaibutsu’s chest. Kaibutsu began forcing himself up, knocking off any dog who wasn’t tightly holding onto his body. Robert dangled from Kaibutsu’s chest, but refused to let go. Growling, Kaibutsu reached down, jaws parted.

“Move, Robert!” shouted Weed. “He’ll grab your head!”

Exactly the idea... Robert thought in response. He felt Kaibutsu’s long, jagged teeth clamp down on his skull. Blood immediately began running down his injured head, but Robert hung on.

“Pull me off!” the Labrador challenged. “I fucking dare you!”

Kaibutsu didn’t need to be told twice. Using all his strength, he yanked Robert off of him. A chunk of Kaibutsu’s own flesh was torn off as well. All according to plan. Another yowl of pain filled the air as the monster flung Robert’s body roughly onto the ground in retaliation. Weed and Mel rushed up to his broken body quickly.

“Mr. Robert...!” Mel cried. The Labrador spat out the chunk of flesh.

“This is it for me...” he choked, a mixture of his own blood and Kaibutsu’s dribbling out of his maw. “My part in the mission...is...complete...mmph...” The Labrador fell still, his eyes forever staring up towards the sky.

“Robert!” Weed screamed as tears ran down his cheeks. “Robert!”

GRAAAAAAAAH!

Kaibutsu wailed again, forcing the young dogs to look up. Rocca had taken Robert’s place, burying his muzzle into the hole Robert had made. Kaibutsu quickly removed him as well, again injuring himself by inadvertently giving the dog his power. Like Robert, Rocca’s broken body was tossed away.

“Such a waste of life...!” said Cross bitterly.

“We have to end this battle quickly,” Ben responded gruffly. “I won’t stand for young lives being wasted. Can you lead me to the front of the monster, Cross?”

“Of course, love.”

While the rest of the Ohu dogs attempted to assist in bleeding Kaibutsu out, Cross guided her husband as he asked. By now, Hoiler had taken up the task of tearing into Kaibutsu’s chest. Instead of simply yanking him off, however, Kaibutsu lowered his head, delivering a simple bite that crushed the Saintongeois’ skull instantly. As he tossed Hoiler’s body away, Cross realized what Ben was planning.

“He’s open, Ben...!” she informed him. “Are you sure you can hit him?”

“My nose will guide me,” the old Dane assured. “This ends here.”

Jerome, meanwhile, had been watching the events of the battle, waiting for his turn to die. With Hoiler gone, it was his chance to pierce Kaibutsu’s heart, ending him for good. As he braced himself for the attack, however, he heard Ben’s voice ringing out.

“Steer clear!” he commanded. “This attack will bring Kaibutsu down!”

Cross stepped back, giving her husband room to attack. The other Ohu dogs backed off of Kaibutsu, leaving the beast pondering what was going on. He assumed Jerome would attack him next, but no. A blind, old Dane? Nearby, Ken’s eyes widened. Could it be...? Would Ben perform the family Battouga...?

“HARUUUU!” Ben’s deep howl resonated within the hearts of the surrounding dogs as he launched himself towards Kaibutsu. He brought back a paw, bracing himself for impact. When he felt the time was right, his paw shot forward. This was the Geki Sentsūhi-Battōga. Focusing all of his power into his paw, Ben felt the warmth of blood and muscle as he pierced Kaibutsu’s body. There was one problem, however. Ben had landed the blow to Kaibutsu’s heart.

“Oh shit!” Tomoe exclaimed. Ben felt a bead of sweat run down the side of his head as he realized, although he’d landed a blow on Kaibutsu’s chest, he’d hit the uninjured side, the one covered in a thick layer of fur. Ben had done some damage, but not the damage he’d hoped. Now, he was dangling from Kaibutsu’s chest, his paw partially lodged into a shallow wound. He could feel Kaibutsu’s breath on his head.

“BEN!” Cross screamed as she pounced at Kaibutsu’s head.

“Mom!” Ken cried. “Dad!”

ROOOOOOOOOAR!

Cross’ fangs buried themselves in the beast’s eye, taking his mind off attacking Ben. Kaibutsu swung his head desperately, but Cross hung on tight. Tomoe went to join the attack.

“Bastard!” she snapped. “You won’t hurt Mr. Ben!”

The rest of the dogs followed the young bitch’s lead, continuing their attacks on Kaibutsu’s body. Ken rounded the beast, leaping up and pulling Ben free from Kaibutsu’s chest. Time was running out for the monster; he felt his body growing weaker every second that his blood leaked out of his body. The feat of dying overcame him, and out of desperation, he began throwing himself around like a bucking bronco. He threw himself on the ground, rolling wildly. Most dogs were able to move out of the way and find a new place to attack, though two soldiers found themselves crushed between the ground and Kaibutsu’s back shell. Kaibutsu rolled until he reached the ledge. The river raged on down below, well fed by the autumn storms.

“Everyone,” Ken yelled. “Hop off! Quick!”

As Kaibutsu tumbled off the side of the cliff, the Ohu dogs scrambled off to safety. Kaibutsu’s roar echoed as he disappeared into the chasm. There was a loud and heavy thud, and then, finally, silence. As the sun appeared on the horizon, the dogs of Ohu stood together, gazing down into the crevice. Down below, Kaibutsu’s body was lying still, his belly exposed and his paws splayed up in the air. Sticking out of his chest, bathed in crimson, was a sharp brach. It had impaled Kaibutsu, forcing its way through the back shell, and tearing the heart. The waters were red with blood. Kaibutsu was finished.

At last, Paradise had been won.

#ginga densetsu weed #ginga densetsu weed fanfiction #silver fang legend weed #gdw

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cyi-can-you-imagine · 5 years

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Starved (chapter 14)

Chapter 14 – Sam’s Decision

Warnings: this chapter steers more toward the dark side of things. It got a bit out of control. Pain, hunger, implied abuse and implied non-con. John’s a terrifying asshole.

Feedback is fuel guys...:)

A few hours later, Dean was awakened by an unusual sound. He paused, listening in the darkness for whatever it was. His hand moved slowly toward the gun under his pillow when he heard it again.

Sam’s stomach. It was growling. Fiercely. And Sam slept through it as if it were normal. Dean frowned and tried to wake his brother up.

“Hey Sam. Sammy? Your stomach just fucking woke me up. You need food, like now. I’m serious!” He poked Sam in the side.

“Fuck you, Dean,” said Sam sleepily into his pillow. Dean laughed. Sam’s stomach growled again. It lasted for several seconds.

“Glad to see your sense of humor returning. But seriously, doesn’t that hurt? That’s your stomach crying out in desperation, dude.” Sam was having none of it. He rolled over and flipped off his brother with his bandaged hand.

An hour later, Dean had turned the light on and got dressed, determined to find a 24 hour something or other to get food for his brother. But Sam was not in a good mood. He was still in bed, the sheets twisted around him, knee still elevated. His arms were crossed, his burned arm cradled gently in the other.

“I said I’m not hungry, Dean! I was fucking sleeping.”

“You need to eat Sam, this isn’t healthy! That wasn’t an ordinary stomach growl and you know it!”

“Don’t get mad at me, Dean!” Sam’s yell turned into a cracked sob as he put his hands over his ears. Dean instantly felt regret and put his hands up in frustration.

“I’m sorry, Sam, it’s…it’s ok. You don’t have to eat right now.”

Sam just hung his head, his hands covering his eyes now. “I can’t eat, Dean, ok? I can’t!”

Dean was about to ask what he meant when a sharp knock startled them both. Sam jumped nearly a foot, and his hands gripped the sheets tightly. He flinched in pain at his own sudden movement and grabbed his knee. Dean put his finger to his lips and Sam nodded, eyes wide. Dean’s hand was on the doorknob and was about to look through the peep hole when he heard a gruff voice come through the door.

“Hey boys! Saw your light turn on. So know you’re up. I know you’re in there, Dean. I know you’ve put your filthy hands on him again, too. Open the fucking door before I make a scene.”

Chills ran down Dean’s spine as Sam just froze, mouth open, unable to speak.

“He’s not getting anywhere near y–“ Dean started to reach towards Sam when - WHAM! The door flew open with John’s swift kick, sending Dean tumbling into the bed nearest the door.

“I told you to open the fucking door. Now look what you made me do.” John’s voice was eerily calm. The door swung closed behind him, resting on the broken door frame. John‘s eyes moved from one bed to the other. One was made up neatly while the other one (still with Sam in it, in only his sleep pants), was unmade, sheets twisted everywhere - a clear indication of who slept where.

“I knew it,” John spoke through clenched teeth, pointing at Dean. “Get up. I should have killed you. That fire should have snuffed you out. You can’t have him. He’s my boy, not yours.” John crossed his arms, somehow looking more menacing. “Now…I will kill him Dean. As much as I love him, I’d rather he be dead than to let you put your hands on him again. He’s mine now. I made him mine”

Sam cowered in the corner of the bed, unable to move.

“Me? Put my hands on him?” yelled Dean. “What about you? Look, he’s terrified of you! You’re his father! You’re supposed to protect him, not beat him and starve him! And while you’re talking about filthy hands, what about you, John? We both know where your hands have been!”

“That’s different,” John smiled. He uncrossed his arms and stepped closer to Dean, pulling out his pocketknife. He pointed it at Dean’s throat, pressing the tip into his skin. Dean swallowed. John whispered in Dean’s ear, his lips disgustingly close. Making sure Sam wouldn’t hear him.

“Maybe I should kill you now Dean. In front of your brother. Slowly. Painfully. Make him watch. Think he’s terrified now? I’m going to make him watch me hurt you until he crawls so far into his shell only I will be able to pull him out. Then I’ll truly own him.” John stepped back and smiled, patting Dean’s cheek before looking at Sam again.

“What happened to you, dad?” Dean whispered.

But John didn’t answer. In fact, the next words didn’t even come from his dad.

“Dad? I’ll- I’ll go with you. Let him be and I’ll go with you.”

“NO! Sam, no!” Dean yelled, reaching out to his brother.

But John was lightning fast, and grabbed Dean before he could get close to Sam. “Sorry, Dean. He picked me.” His eyes glaring with fury, he turned to Sam. “I’ll let your brother live. I’ll never go after him again. Ever. But you promise me right now boy. Promise me that you’re now mine. Tell him you don’t love him and he’ll be safe.”

Sam hesitated. Dean shook his head, his eyes wide, silently begging Sam not to speak. He tried to squirm out of his father’s grasp, but his grip was iron tight. Sam just lowered his head, struggling desperately to hold back his tears. His voice was barely a whisper.

“I - I don’t love you Dean, he’s right. I’m sick. I need help. I know I can’t be with you. I know those thoughts are wrong. I just forgot. Dad’s just trying to c-cure me. I…I need to go with him. He…he’ll cleanse me. I’d rather know that you were safe, ok? I can’t love you like that Dean. I’m his boy. You – you should go before he changes his mind.”

Sam’s words washed over him like a bucket of ice water had been thrown in his face. Dean was stunned. His body went numb. The roaring in ears got louder. This couldn’t be happening.

“Sam…you…you can’t mean that. Let me –“ but John still had him by the collar, and he couldn’t get any closer to his brother.

“I can’t have you dead, Dean. If I can save your life then I will. Let me go.”

“Sam…no! I can’t just do that!”

John, now irritated, rolled his eyes. In one swift move he let go of Dean and grabbed the pistol he kept in his waistband. He took Sam by the ear, digging in his nails. Sam squeaked in pain, but made no effort to try to get away. John forced Sam to stand, and Sam winced when his sore knee twisted as his father pulled him up. John then brought the gun up to Sam’s temple, pressing hard. Sam gasped as John wrapped his other arm around his neck.

John continued, “I’m done fucking around, Dean. Either you leave quietly or I kill Sam. How about that, huh? I’m gonna take him, and you’re going to walk away. Or…would you rather have him dead?”

Dean shook his head. “No.” he whispered.

“Then step back.” John cocked the gun and Sam shut his eyes, grabbing desperately at his dad’s arm, which was starting to squeeze around him, cutting off his airway.

Dean raised his arms and took a step back, but John didn’t let go. Dean saw Sam turning purple. His gasps and pleas faded into silent screams as he was no longer able to make any sounds. His arms fell limply by his sides.

“Sam!” Dean screamed, but moved no closer. Couldn’t risk his dad pulling the trigger.

“Ha!” John kissed the unconscious Sam on his cheek. “That’s my boy!” He put his gun back in his waistband and strode past Dean, tossing Sam over his shoulder by his bandaged arm, pulling the gauze off almost completely. Dean saw flayed pink flesh and shuddered. As John reached the broken door, he stopped to thrust his finger in his oldest son’s face. “Stay away Dean. If I ever see you anywhere near us ever again, even if you’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time, I will take him to the nearest side of the road rest stop and punish him severely. Painfully. Then? I’ll execute him. I’ll throw his body in a fucking dumpster. And I’ll film the whole fucking thing. Then I’ll send you the video. Now step. The fuck. Back.”

Every happy memory Dean had of his father burned away behind his eyes. There was only a steel core of hatred now. But Dean did as he was told, every fiber in his being screaming out in desperation as John walked out the door. Dean’s heart was racing. He didn’t know what to do. He thought about what Sam had said to him. Why would he do that? Why give himself back to his dad like that?

Dean stood up and headed towards the door cautiously. It was still dark outside. Very early in the morning. No one would be up at this time. But someone had to have noticed the yelling. There were surely people outside, curious, right? Dean stepped out behind his father, just as he started walking down the steps, Sam’s limp body dangling precariously over his shoulder.

But there was no one else outside. The parking lot was empty, only two cars remained. The truck and the Impala. Instantly, Dean knew he had only one chance to get this right. He looked from one car to another, gauging the distance, and headed down the stairs after his father. He waited until John had put Sam in the truck and was wandering to the driver side before he appeared at the bottom of the stairs, hands casually resting in his pockets.

John was not startled. He sighed in exasperation, and rested his arms on the top of the open driver side door, making sure Dean saw the gun still in his hand.

“You can have the Impala,” John said coldly.

“Fuck you, John.” Dean didn’t move.

“No thanks, Dean.” He turned to Sam, unconscious in the truck and licked his bottom lip.

Dean lost it. In that moment, he lost everything that made him human and his primal side burst through. He actually growled as he leapt forward, slamming the car door closed, trapping John’s fingers inside. The gun clattered away, resting just behind the back tire.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” John started screaming and scrambling for the door. It was locked. John stared at his bloodied fingers as he fumbled in his pocket with his free hand for the key.

Dean took the opportunity. He ran to the other side of the car and moved an unconscious Sam from the truck to the Impala. Sam did not wake up.

Back on the truck’s driver’s side, keys made their way into the handle. The locks popped and John wrenched the door open, freeing his broken fingers. “GOD DAMMIT YOU SHIT!” John turned towards the back of the truck to confront Dean – and turned directly into the barrel of his own gun.

Just inches away, the gun wavered in front of John’s eye.

“Fuck.” John whispered.

Dean pulled the trigger.

***

He peeled off onto the road, turning on his headlights as he left the city. Sam still unconscious beside him. Dean checked his rear view mirror. Nothing but blackness behind him.

Sam’s stomach growled again.

Dean reached for the cup holder and fished out his phone, flipping it open quickly.

He had a phone call to make.

Tags:

@charliebradbury1104, @sammys-dimpless, @adsp-wincestj2, @debvic78

#CYIDaddy #wincest #weecest #dark chapter #Starved #chapter 14

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gauntie-o-dimm · 5 years

Text

Emiel Regis X Reader | What Will Remain Of Us | Chapter 11-20

Originally posted on AO3. From chapter 25-30 will have a warning change, keep an eye on that. These are just small fluffy standalone fics. Domestic self-indulgence. Enjoy.

Word count: 2100+ Warnings: Smut, swearing

Chapter 11 - Gesture

Regis was a man that loved some peace and quiet every now and then, and his lover knew that quite well.

As the higher vampire sat down in the aged armchair, which was of course not as old as himself, with a book in his hands, she excused herself to go to the market.

‘I will go into town,’ she announced, ‘is there anything I can get you?’

Emiel Regis felt a smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head. ‘No, my dearest. But thank you for the offer.’ She nodded as a greeting, heading for the door.

‘Wait.’ Regis spoke softly, his head just turned enough to face her. She looked over her shoulder, eyebrows raised, basket already in hand.

‘Yes Regis?’

‘Come here.’ he whispered in an undemanding tone. She placed the basket down and walked over to him, halting next to the chair.

Regis gently took her arm, caressing it as he pulled her down with care, pressing a loving kiss against her lips.

‘Hm, be careful out there.’ he muttered against her mouth, capturing it once more before he let go of her arm.

‘I will.’ Her cheeks were slightly flushed. She straightened her back, softly squeezing the vampire’s shoulder before turning to the door again.

‘I love you.’ he said as her hand wrapped around the doorknob, twisting it open. She felt her heart jump in her chest and she smiled.

‘I love you, too.’

Chapter 12 - Afterglow

The room was warm compared to the outside world, but that could just feel like that because her naked body pressed so warm and snug against Regis under the soft blanket of their shared bed that she shortly considered throwing off the covers.

The heat of the previous events still lingered on her skin and in the air. Her fingers drew lazy circles on his chest, carressing through the silver hairs that grew upon it.

‘I was wondering...’ she began, ‘with how many women have you been in your entire life?’

Regis swallowed, shifting into a more comfortable position to speak, not too fond of bringing up the past, when things were different, and seemingly more complicated.

‘What does that truly matter, my darling? I was another vampire back in the day and I have changed a lot. All that I want right now is you... Only you.’

But she wouldn’t take this for an answer, turning up her body to face him.

‘Tell me. I won’t become jealous.’

‘I’d rather not open old wounds, (Y/n). It is all gone now. I have nothing else left but you. So please, don’t bring it up again and cuddle with me.’

‘But—‘

He silenced her by pressing a kiss to her slightly parted lips.

‘Tell me.’ she mused undistracted as he pulled back for air. He bit on his lip, shaking his head slightly.

‘There was once this prostitute...’

Chapter 13 - Alchemy

‘Impromptu potion brewing?’

‘Not completely.’ She pointed at the book on the table while she added some branches of rosemary to the concoction in front of her, stirring it thoroughly with a spoon. He moved to stand beside her.

‘You have no idea what you are doing, do you?’

She was quiet, her eyes momentarily containing the joyful glimmer he always loved to see.

‘Not a fucking clue.’

Regis tutted, pressing a kiss upon her cheek before moving over to the table, reaching for a bottle of wine that sat half-empty on the wooden surface, dangerously close to the edge. He poured two cups, handing one to her.

He took the book with alchemy formulae in one hand, eyes scanning the page. ‘You know, my dear, that you have picked quite a difficult concoction to brew?’

Her cheeks flushed pink and she just hoped he would think it was because of the heat that came from the pot she was stirring.

‘I know.’

Regis pondered a moment, inspecting her slightly hunched over form as she added some rose petals to the liquid, even though it was no part of the recipe.

She took a huge sip of her wine, downing it in one go before fully turning towards the brewing.

Then it hit the vampire.

‘You are trying to impress me.’ he stated. She almost choked on her own saliva.

Emiel let out a soft laugh, placing down his cup before walking over to her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. He buried his nose in her hair, kissing her neck.

‘You are too adorable.’

‘Stop it, Regis.’

‘But you are.’

They stayed like that for minutes, his chin resting upon her shoulder, her arms slowly becoming tired from the stirring, until Regis had to intervere due to burning ingredients.

Chapter 14 - Fight

Just like any other healthy relationship, an occasional fight between Regis and his lovely woman was not out of the question.

Lover’s quarrels just were normal in any relationship, yet it upset Regis to a point that he felt his stomach turn around whenever she slammed the door to their bedroom. Even though this reaction of her was incredibly childish, for which reasonable adult would walk away and make noise like that, Regis thought she was somewhat right, but so was he.

He approached the bedroom door, knocking upon it.

‘Darling?’ ‘Leave me alone, Emiel Regis.’ Regis swallowed thickly.

‘I am sorry, okay. I should’ve trusted you more.’

‘I am not a child, Regis. You don’t need to protect me all the time.’

‘I know, dear. You already told me several times. I should’ve listened. It was wrong from me to send my ravens after you to watch over you.’

‘You mean spy on me.’

The vampire softly sighed, letting his shoulders hang in shame.

‘Darling, just open the door.’

‘No, I—‘

‘Just let me apologize.’

The sound of the lock being undone made Regis straighten his back and she appeared in the door frame, an annoyed look plastered on her face.

‘I am sorry, darling. My choices have been far from perfect. I should’ve respected your privacy.’

‘You are not my father. If I just go to the market, you don’t need to worry.’

‘I know. It is just...’ he was quiet for a second. ‘Every time you go out alone, I fear that something might happen to you. I can not bear the thought of something bad going on whenever I am not around. You are very, very precious to me. I love you, and can not live without you.’

Tears had filled her eyes, dangerously close to falling.

‘Oh, Regis. I love you, too.’

He opened his arms and she didn’t hesitate to step into his embrace, pressing her face against his shoulder.

He softly caressed her hair, smiling a bit as he felt her relax.

Chapter 15 - Beast

The look on her face was enough to tell that she was most certainly startled. It had frozen as soon as she had set eyes on Regis in his vampiric form, her body tensing up.

‘I look like hideous, don’t I? Demonic, even.’

She swallowed, shaking her head as she took in the vampire. ‘No.’ she breathed, stepping closer to him, carefully cupping his cheek. The texture of his skin felt different; colder, wrinklier.

‘Are you afraid of me?’ Regis said with a hint of fear in his voice when you glanced at his fangs, long nails and slouched, panting form, taken aback by how her gaze shifted from anxious to loving. ‘No.’ she repeated, standing close to him.

‘You are still Regis.’

‘As a matter of fact, yes, but my body—‘

‘You are still Regis. The Regis I know and love. Even though your outer shell has changed, I know this is part of you. You are you.’ she said, smiling as she saw he was surprised by her answer.

He morphed back to his human, wasting not a second to step closer to her, taking her face in his hands and kissing her deeply.

Chapter 16 - Kiss

‘Kiss me.’

‘We are out in public, people will stare.’ Regis responded.

‘I don’t care. Kiss me senselessly. You’ve been looking at me like that for hours now, I know you want it.’

Chapter 17 - Pleasure

A low growl left his lips as he rolled his pelvis into her, filling her once more.

Her eyes shot open at the beastial sound, feeling her walls clamp around his length even more. The vibrations of the noise aroused her even more, stirring something inside her. ‘Could you do that again? That was fucking hot!’

Regis chuckled deeply, leaning over to kiss her, hands leaning on both sides of her head.

‘Language my dear.’

She hooked her legs around his hips, pulling him closer. He let out another low grunt as she did so, making her smirk in anticipation.

‘If you do that a few times more, I might just climax.’

‘In that case, I will carry on just a bit.’

‘Just a bit, though?’ She pouted, and he was quick to catch her bottom lip in between his fangs, playfully sucking on it as she whimpered, his hips and sounds moving in and out of her until she saw stars.

Chapter 18 - Protective

Regis was fully aware of the glances his beloved received from the other side of the bar, his hand curling up protectively on her knee, holding onto the skirt of her dress.

The man across the room had been glancing for a long time now, eyes lingering upon her gorgeous face, curves and legs, and needless to say the higher vampire was far from pleased.

The staring man approached, he was around her age, shaggy brown hair falling in front of his face. He reeked of drink and bullshit. On his hip dangled a sword, around his arm the Redanian emblem showed.

Instinctively, Regis scooted closer. She was oblivious, still talking to him about getting a job at the local orphanage; she was most seriously considering it.

‘Hello there, lovely lady! I couldn’t help but notice you from my table. My name is Reuben, and who are you?’

She looked up for a moment at the man, surprise visible on her face.

‘She is here with me.’ Regis responded, ‘and she is none of your business.’

‘Please, I just want to talk to your daughter, is she spoken for yet?’

‘Yes, by me. She is not my daughter.’

The brunet’s gaze shifted into one of disgust. ‘You are her beloved?! Filthy old man you are!’

Regis had to resist the urge to rip out the man’s throat.

‘Why won’t you come with me, love? This old man can not offer you anything, aye!’

Regis felt his hand already transform, so he tucked it under his lap in order to stop it. Rage welled up in his chest.

‘But he can.’ she finally spoke, ‘I love him, and he is more of a man than you will ever be. So no, sir, I am not going anywhere with you.’

Regis felt his rage die down as the man pressed his lips into a tight line, nodded and slouched off, smacking a handful of coins onto the counter to pay for his drinks and left the bar.

‘I love you too.’ Regis whispered, wrapping his arm around her, causing her to snuggle closer into him.

‘So, tell me about that job you want.’

Chapter 19 - Old Friends

Amidst the flowers, he found her in deep conversation with his dear friend Dettlaff, a basket of herbs around her arm, a small smile on her face as Dettlaff told her stories of their world before the conjunction of spheres.

Said vampire looked up and saw his friend, smiling as a greeting.

‘Regis,’ she cooed as she saw her lover approach, ‘look who I found in the herbalists hut!’

Regis smiled, stepping closer and hugging his old friend, patting him on the back.

‘I must say I am surprised that you knew this was Dettlaff. I see you get along very well.’ Emiel spoke, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

‘Well, my dear Regis, your stories describe him quite well. Needless to say, I was most certain when I crossed paths with him, trusting on my gut feeling, that he had to be the vampire you’ve shared so many adventures with, and, in fact, the vampire who saved your life, and words cannot describe how thankful I am that he helped you recover.’

Chapter 20 - Whisper

His voice was just a whisper yet loud enough for her to hear as her head was pressed against his chest, pretending to be asleep.

‘My beloved (Y/n), I love you with all of my heart, I would rather live just a day with you than a lifetime without, and I would do anything for you.’

#regis #emiel regis #emiel regis rohellec terzieff godefroy #emiel regis x reader #regis x reader #the witcher #witcher x reader #blood and wine #what will remain of us

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