#this one was actually an accident too i saw the glasses flare when i was checking my shots after the fact | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

achitka · 2 years

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Doors (an Encanto fanfic) Chapter 2

What will happen with them new shiny blank doors...Seriously the stress must be fun. This takes place where the movie ended, you know after the celebration. While these are actually character studies, I cannot say a story won't pop in there when I'm not looking. It is a vagary of my writing method. You should also note - a lot of these scenes are overlapping - Time can be funny like that.

Camilo

The day had been exhausting, but he had done it. He managed to get through the whole party without shape changing even once. He wondered if anyone even noticed. It was a lot harder to do than he expected, but it was worth it. A whole year of not shifting or being able to, made him realize he had relied heavily on it in social situations. He had even made actual friends with other kids his age in the town. Mirabel had helped with that the most. She seemed to know everyone’s name. Seriously, how did she keep them all straight?

He discovered quickly that he really wasn’t made for working on buildings. He and tools never got along and after a few ‘accidents’ his father suggested he help keep an eye on the kids who were too young for school. That was something he was good at, and it was fun to gather them together, putting on little shows for them. His Tío Bruno noticed this and gave him a few ideas for shows that he had written down. The parents of the Encanto would sometimes drop off a little one while they were working on rebuilding the Casita. It did not hurt that the children idolized him, of course. He had even managed to talk a few of the older kids into helping him with his shows when they weren’t busy with chores. It surprised him how enthusiastic they were. He had thought that he needed his Gift to do all those things. It was a revelation to discover he could still help people out and make friends, just being Camilo.

He yawned mightily and decided he had to just go to bed. Moving quickly down the darkened hallway, Camilo felt suddenly uneasy. Someone or something was behind him. He was sure everyone had gone home. He rounded a corner and stopped to listen for whoever or whatever it was. But there was nothing, like they'd stopped moving at the same time he did. Camilo took one small step and heard its echo around the corner. Startled, he took a quick step back and lost his balance and realized too late he was much too close to the stairs. He screwed his eyes shut, he was falling, and nothing would stop that. Camilo braced himself for the pain he knew was coming.

THUD

Whatever had been following him grunted in a satisfied fashion, then hands were on him, and Camilo lashed out.

"Hey, hey, Cam it's okay…Camilo!"

Wait…he knew that voice…he knew that voice.

"Are you alright? Open your eyes. It's okay, it's just me, Mirabel.

Camilo open one eye, focused on his cousin, and almost went limp with relief. Just a dream…just a dream. Still, it'd seemed so real. "Mira, you did not happen to see anyone hanging around…"

"No, but I was headed to the kitchen and saw you sleeping on the sofa…"

"Sofa?"

"Cam, you fell off it. That's why I came over here." She said, as she adjusted her glasses, which he saw were slightly askew.

Camilo hoped he wasn't responsible for that and sat up, letting out a nervous laugh, "Thought I fell down the stairs."

Looking back at Mirabel, he could see her look of concern and felt a moment of embarrassment that turned him crimson. That flared to anger and then back to embarrassment. Camilo sighed. Probably best to put it out of his head. He stood and thankfully Mira pretended not to notice any of it as he helped her up off the floor as well.

"Hungry?" she asked, smoothing her skirt. "I was headed for the kitchen after all."

"Snacks? Yes…race you," he said and took off full speed.

"Hey!" Mirabel shouted, but he heard her laughing and running behind him. There was a rule about not running in the house…usually. Both rounded the last corner at a dead run and skidded to a jarring halt (only thanks to Casita) just in front of Abuela. Startled, Abuela set down the small tray of tea and polvorosas she had been carrying with a slight clatter. "What are you two doing?" she asked in an amused tone. Still, Camilo and Mirabel immediately straightened.

"Sorry, Abuela," both said simultaneously.

She seemed to be waiting for more, and Mirabel said with a nervous laugh, "We were going to get some cookies..."

Abuela nodded and said, "Please do not run through the house," she said and was smiling as she retrieved her tray. “It's dangerous,” Abuela then calmly walked past them, "Dios Mio, what a menace." She moved into the hallway they had just vacated, all the while chuckling to herself. Camilo glanced at Mirabel. She was looking just as weirded out. A year ago, they would have been in for some serious tongue lashings. First from Abuela, then from their parents. So different.

"That is still unnerving." Camilo said when he was sure she was out of earshot.

Mirabel nodded in agreement. "I know, but in a good way? I'm certainly not complaining." and shrugged. "Come on, let's see if there are any more cookies."

Walking into the kitchen, both immediately spied the platter with the left-over sweets piled upon it. The snack foray was interrupted by Mira's mother, who walked into the kitchen from the opposite side.

"Please wash your hands, hijos."

Both stopped dead and turned back to the sink. How could she know they had not? After washing, they turned back to find Mira's mother was already gone.

They looked at one another…unsupervised snack time? This was an unexpected dream come true. There was a clatter of tiles behind them, and Mirabel just sighed. She turned around and picked up the small plates Casita had provided. Really small.

She handed him one, along with a cup that Casita had conveniently filled for them with lemonade. They sat at the table and Camilo stacked his little plate seven high. Mirabel took three and made a show of eating them with tiny bites.

"So," Mirabel began, "You been in your room yet?"

Camilo paused for a moment in his eating and shook his head. "I saw Dolores standing in front of hers, not sure if she went in though." Camilo knew that Dolores wasn't all that thrilled about the magic coming back. But she was so happy about Mariano that she did not seem to care. Mariano, of all people? "She probably did." Camilo said as he replenished his cookie stack. "What about you?"

"No, I’m not really expecting a whole lot and to be honest, I'm a little afraid to touch it."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Me too…"

Mirabel finished her last cookie and took her plate and cup to the sink. "I wonder if Hernando is available..." Mirabel gave a snort at her private joke and said, "I'm going to see if I can find Tío Bruno. There is something I want to ask him." She watched him snitch four more onto his plate and remarked, "You're going to make yourself sick."

"Nah, I will be fine. I'm a growing boy."

"If you say so, primo. Casita, do you know where Tío Bruno is?" There was an answering clatter of tiles and she replied, "Oh." She turned and headed for the door nearest the plaza, and absently waved as she disappeared around the corner.

Alone and full of sweets, Camilo wondered absently who Hernando was. He downed the last of the lemonade, gathered his dishes, plopped them into the sink and headed for the back stairs to the upper level. His room had always been right next to Dolores' and as he passed it, he saw the image of his sister etched into the wood and paused. Was she smiling? He walked up to 'his' door and just stared. Glancing over, he saw Antonio's was still blank too. Where was he? His brother had let slip that he was worried about the walls cracking. He had tried to reassure his little brother, but Antonio was one stubborn little kid. Getting and then losing his Gift within a few days was super hard on him. He was back to whisper talking again, like he lost his voice.

Camilo returned his attention to his own door and froze. Did he really want to do this? He had only just gotten used to not being able to shift. He could just walk away from it, not that it would change anything. There was a creak in the floor near him, and he looked over to see his father approaching.

"Hey Papá," Camilo said absently.

His father did not say anything, just came up and put a hand on his shoulder. They both stood and stared at the colorfully glowing wood for a while. His father broke the silence as he said, "You did well tonight, Camilo."

"Huh? I did not do anything." Camilo said, turning toward him.

"Exactly." His father said and grasped his other shoulder. "You did not shape-shift at all. It was nice to see you having fun. Your mother and I were very proud."

Camilo smiled at the praise, did a double take, and asked, "Wait, do not you want me to use my Gift?"

"Of course, Son, but for needed things."

Camilo thought about this, but wasn't coming up with anything that his Gift would actually be needed for, so asked, "What kind of needed things?"

"You'll know." His father sounded very confident about this and turned him back toward the door. Camilo, however, was not so sure. As if sensing his distress, his father continued, "Camilo, you've always been so giving to those around you. Working to make people smile and help them with their burdens. All you need to remember is that we all love you, just as you are."

Camilo smiled and nodded. Maybe it really would be okay. With his father's hand on his back, he gathered his courage and grasped the doorknob. The sudden rush of magic felt weirdly okay, and Camilo smiled as the magic flooded back into the door. Almost like it was trying to get to know him. Really weird, but nice. He walked into his room and paused to take in what he saw before him. It was actually a good size. Nice furniture...carpets. He hated getting out of bed onto a cold floor. He let out a relieved sigh. The thing he most feared was not present in his room.

"This is nice," his father said. "You know, it reminds me of my old room. Good size bed, nice mattress. Very nice."

"Yeah, it is." Camilo said as he lay down on his bed. Why was he so tired? "It's perfect Papá."

----------------------------

Félix waited for Camilo to be fully asleep and removed his sandals and ruana. His boy was getting big, but he managed to shift his son into a more comfortable position. Before he headed to the door, he noticed the lack of mirrors and wondered if it was Casita or Mira's influence on Casita that had brought about that tiny miracle. Camilo really did not need to practice; he could shift in his sleep if he chose to. Félix stopped at the door and looked it up and down. It was the same as before, but he noted the difference in Camilo's expression, etched so clearly. He chuckled to himself and wondered if Camilo would notice. He grunted with satisfaction and closed the door.

In the past, that face had worn a mischievous grin that exuded confidence. Confidence he knew Camilo did not feel when he was just himself. That smirk was gone, replaced by a smile of a shy young man, learning to be a confident one.

Link to Chapter 1 below

Next Chapter: Isabel and Luisa

#encanto disney #familia madrigal #felix madrigal #camilo madrigal #mirabel madrigal #encanto fanfic #abuela alma madrigal

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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CTRL+ALT+DECEIT

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, fucking, stalking, hacking, threats, implied violence.

This is dark!Jake Jensen x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find your pictures on someone else’s Insta but that’s not the only thing he’s stolen.

Note: Yay, another Jensen fic at last. I’m probably gonna try to work in more one shots between my series. I’m looking at Andy Barber, Ransom Drysdale, or Lee Bodecker right now for next week but we’ll see.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The chirp of the chat pierced your eardrum once more as you ignored it for the spreadsheet of dates on your other monitor. Working from home could be both peaceful and distracting but the third bing had you muting and pushing your headset to your neck with a grumble. You switched windows as the chat box blinked.

‘So why didn’t u tell me u had a bf?’ Zia’s bubble blipped up followed by impatient emojis.

“Wat r u talking bout?’ you typed back and clicked back to the spreadsheet to update the status of each course. That noise came again and you flipped back.

‘I’m not stupid! Come on. He’s far away but he’s cute.’

You frowned and tapped the space bar lightly. You were utterly confused. The only activity in your daily life were the general notifications from Tindr. You repeated the question and she sent an emoji rolling its eyes.

‘I’m serious.’ you replied.

She sent a link and then a laughing GIF attached to another bubbled response, ‘I’m not buyin it.’

You clicked on the hyperlink and a new tab opened. You scrolled down on the Insta as the air was knocked out of you at the sight of your own face. Not only were their pics taken from your public profile but several you’d never even posted. Your skin crawled and the bing sounded again.

‘So… an online thing huh.’ Zia pressed on.

‘I gotta work.’ you closed out of the window entirely but stayed on the Insta.

You scrolled through about a dozen or so selfies of you, each labeled as ‘missing my lady’ or ‘she’s so sweet, sending me pics to keep me company’. Your stomached roiled with mortification and the unsettling sensation of intrusion. It was easy enough to guess you’d been hacked but to think this was what the creep did with it was even more startling.

You changed the password on your Insta and went through the process of doing so with all of your accounts and ran a scan on your PC. You would likely have to file a ticket for a proper inspection with a specialist. You couldn’t help but shake as you went back to the profile after checking your bank account and PayPal to make sure it wasn’t worse than just pics.

You went back to the profile and found photos of the culprit. His spiky blond hair and glasses were unsurprising and his comic book tee shirt was even less. Your disgust was quickly replaced with anger as you hit the chat icon above his info.

‘Hey, jackass, care to tell me how you have my photos on your profile?!’

The read icon appeared almost and you saw him typing. It stopped and then started again.

‘You’re so beautiful, I wanted to share it with everyone.’

You scoffed at the message and cringed at the screen. ‘Are you nuts? Like actually. You stole my photos! You hacked me. Creep.’

You blocked him immediately after hitting send and logged out. You opened Excel again and tried to focus on the coloured cells. You could hardly process what you were doing as your phone began to vibe on the corner of your desk. It didn’t let up and you couldn’t focus past the incessant buzzing.

You snatched it up and several messages covered the screen as you unlocked it. ‘You really think that’s gonna work’; ‘You can’t block me’... several in a similar vein that you deleted before blocking the number. You silenced your phone and turned back to your monitor.

Suddenly the screen went black and you blinked. You hit the keyboard and clicked, assuming it fell asleep. It lit up again but all you saw was yourself staring back. Your mouth fell open and you ripped the clip-on cam from atop your monitor. You disconnected it as the notepad opened and typing flicked up across the white space.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this.’

You could move the mouse or backspace. All control was lost and you sat there helplessly watching the scrawl.

‘I think we’d be really good together if you only gave me a chance. Can’t you see I worship you?’

Your phone began to shake constantly and a private number flashed. You picked it up and hollered into the speaker, “leave me alone”. You hung up but it kept on and your screen turned to black once more. Your PC was still on but there was no reaction from the machine.

Fuck, you sat back and looked at your phone. You couldn’t even call work to tell them because the damn thing wouldn’t stop ringing. You put your head in your hands and grunted in frustration. How the fuck did all this happen?

🖱️

After your initial panic died down, you disconnected your tower and shut off your phone. You left your cell behind as it was just as useless. You hauled the PC down to IT at your work and filled out the ticket without giving intricate details on everything the weirdo had taken.

You left with a borrowed laptop. You wouldn’t sign into your personal accounts and stick to the company portal. You were embarrassed but happy to have a temporary solution. You got home and set up the new computer and reconfigured your wi-fi. You finished the last of the day’s work and ended the day with a glass of wine.

When you dared to turn your phone on again the next morning, it was filled with notifications from all platforms but each one you clicked on errored and prompted you to sign-in. All your new passwords were wrong and you knew it was him.

You checked the Insta and found a screenshot on his profile from the day before, your mouth agape in horror that could easily mistaken for surprise.

‘Her face when you pop the question on the call’. The caption made your stomach curdle and you nearly flung the phone away. You couldn’t comment without logging in or message. So you created a shell account with a throwaway email you used on Reddit.

‘Why won’t you stop?’ you sent the message through as you waited for your coffee to brew.

‘Stop what?’ he added a winky face with his reply and you growled.

‘You know who this is! Why are you doing this?’

‘Hmmm…’ he let the message hang there and you sat down with your mug and listened to the birds outside. ‘Imagine what someone else would do with everything I have.’

‘Look at what you’re doing. You’re ruining my life.’

‘Ruining? Sweetie, I’m watching over you. Protecting you.’

Your nostrils flared and you burnt your tongue on the coffee and planted it on the table so it sloshed over the sides.

‘Love you, sweetie. See ya soon.’

The chat box turned grey as you realised he blocked you. That pissed you off more than anything and you lobbed your phone away with a shout of anguish. This guy was fucked!

You were shaking so much you couldn’t even drink your coffee. You got up and paced until you could think straight. You dialed into work and told them you were taking the day off for a personal emergency and shut down your phone. You were too afraid he would find a way onto your work laptop and you didn’t want to have to explain that to IT too.

🖱️

Zia showed up on Saturday and she wasn’t happy. She buzzed up and banged on your door impatiently. You let her in and she crossed her arms over the strap of her purse as she crooked her hip.

“I know I shouldn’t have snooped but if you’re mad at me, you should’ve just said so. I would’ve backed off,” she scowled.

“I’m not mad,” you said as you backed into the front room and dragged your feet over the rug.

“Sure, you’re just ignoring all my messages by accident,” she stayed at the other side of the room.

“Not exactly, no,” you shrugged, “it’s a long story.”

“And you couldn’t shoot me a message to say that at least?”

“Look, I’m stressed the fuck out. I’m sorry but the only reason I didn’t answer you is because I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t even turn my phone on anymore.”

“What--”

“Just--” you touched your temples, “I don’t even know how to explain--”

“Jesus, are you okay?” her anger slaked away as her voice softened.

“No, I’m not,” you sniffed, “I’ve been trapped in this apartment and I can’t think straight and I can’t even talk to anyone because my phone and my life is totally fucked.”

“How about we get a coffee and you can tell me once you’ve calmed down,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so worked up.”

“You don’t know how bad it is. I really fucked up,” you whined, “I don’t even know how it happened.”

“Is this about the boyfriend?”

You huffed and shook your head, “I told you, he’s not my boyfriend-- Let me get dressed.”

After you felt presentable enough to leave the apartment, the thought of getting away ushered you down the winding stairwell and onto the sidewalk. You and Zia walked down to the cafe on the corner where you always overspent on their specialty drink and caught up.

You ordered but when you tried to use your card, the machine beeped in rejection. You tried again but still no luck. Zia offered to pay and you promised you’d pay her back. Anxiety pitted deep in your stomach as you sat. You’d have to call the bank and figure out why eight dollars would bounce.

“So,” Zia said as she shaded her eyes against the sunlight streaming onto the open patio, “he’s not your boyfriend?”

“I don’t even know the dude,” you hissed as you almost overturned your cup, “Zee, those pictures, they were all on my phone. I never sent them to anyone. I don’t even know his real name and when I confronted him, he crashed my whole system and blew up my phone. I haven’t been able to log into anything because of him.”

“You’re shitting me,” she chuckled.

“Zee, I’m not fucking kidding,” you blinked, “don’t you think if I was dating some dude out in who knows where, you’d be the first to know? You think I’m wasting my time with the idiots on Tindr for fun?”

“No way,” she scoffed.

“Zia, look me in the eye,” you said as you gave her a stern look, “I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“Did you call the police?” she asked.

You sat back and closed your eyes. You were so swept up in the panic, you hadn’t even thought. You could report it to the police, just get a record of it even if they didn’t do anything else. You heard horror stories of hackers and how little could be done but you had to at least try.

“I guess I should go down to the station today,” you ran your fingertips along your chin, “I don’t know, I felt so alone, I thought--”

“And call your bank right now,” she slid her phone over, “figure out what’s going on with your accounts.”

You took her cell and dialed the number on the back of the card. You dragged your finger down the side of your cup as you listened to the automated message and hit the buttons to direct you to customer service. The hold song bubbled in your head and finally picked up as you finished the last of your mocha.

You explained the issue after giving your information as Zia sat patiently across from you. She watched the other patrons and looked out across the street as you waited on the representative on the other end.

“Looks like your account has been locked. Your savings and checking have been placed on hold citing possible fraud,” the woman explained.

“Well, can’t you unlock them? Why would they be flagged?”

“Hmm, well I see no suspicious spending so possibly… it could be due to an external lock, not us.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t speak to that. Have you received any communications from the Revenue service?”

“Revenue service? I don’t--no,” you gulped.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can tell you,” she said, “you should consider contacting federal services.”

You hung up and handed Zia her phone back. “Apparently, I’m under investigation for fraud? I don’t know.”

“Shit,” she took her cell, “are you sure?”

“It sounded like it but-- I gotta check my credit card,” you stood and grabbed your empty cup and your purse.

You stormed down the street to the ATM at the corner and inserted your card. LOCKED the machine made a hideous noise and you pulled out your card in irritation. You put your wallet and touched the sides of your neck as the heat swelled through you.

“I don’t understand--”

“Um, you should see this,” Zia said.

Zia turned her screen towards you and your heart dropped to your toes. There was a picture softened by a blush Insta filter and the caption read, ‘just got into town, surprising bae with flowers’. Over the cluster of petals at the bottom of the image were you and Zia sitting at the cafe patio.

You spun and searched around for any sign of the man and the bouquet. You could hardly breath as it felt like you were being squished between invisible walls. You clapped your hand against the wall and steadied yourself as Zia gently rubbed your arm.

“Let’s go to the station,” you croaked as tears welled in your eyes, “please.”

🖱️

The police told you everything you expected. Even as you showed them the photos and explained how you never met that man in your life, they only offered you words on a piece of paper. They’d file the report and follow-up in case of any further escalation. It was a non-answer, a cold shrug.

Zia went home with you as she offered to stay the night. You gladly accepted and the two of you cozied up on your bed and spent the night watching early 00s rom coms. You found it hard to relax even with her there. You couldn’t stop thinking about how close he’d been without you even knowing.

You at last began to doze off as Reese Witherspoon triumphed and exhausted by the endless maelstrom of dread, you slipped into a deep but perilous sleep. You were locked in limbo between waking and slumber, almost as if you could hear everything around you but remained blind and unknowing all the same.

You woke with a start as you felt like you were falling. You sat up and reached to the other side of the bed. Zia was gone. She must have got up to get water or use the bathroom. You took a breath and turned your legs over the edge. You got up groggily and lumbered across the room, your mouth dry and head aching. Some tylenol and water would do you well.

You hesitated as you noticed the bloom of light just around the corner from your doorway. Zia must be having trouble sleeping, you guessed as you kept on. As you came in sight of the front room, you heard a whimper and you backed up against the wall as tall figure stood before the coffee table. The flowers laid across the wood, slightly crumpled from a struggle.

As Zia whined, he jabbed her with his foot and she grunted around the rag tied around her mouth. Her arms and legs were bound behind her as the man loomed over her. You recognized his blond hair and glasses, the menacing blue eyes as he raised his chin and crossed his arms.

“Been waiting on you,” he stepped over her, “I was disappointed when I realised it was her. Good friend though, hanging around…”

“Don’t hurt her, please. What do you want?”

“You can’t figure that out?” he taunted, “huh, I’m sure you can guess what it will take for me to leave her in one piece.”

Zia wiggled and received another boot. You pushed yourself forward and he stepped closer, predatory as he dropped his arms and clenched then unclenched his fists. He chuckled as you stopped short and gaped up at him.

“She’s cute,” he said, “she can join us if that makes it easier for you.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snarled and winced as he reached out to touch your cheek. You fought not to shove him away, your eyes on Zia’s bound figure.

“Play nice and I will,” he warned, “every time I hurt her, that’s on you. I wish I didn’t have to do this to show you how much I love you.”

You shook your head as your lip trembled. He pressed his palms to your cheek and ran his thumb along your lips. He leaned in and you cowered as you realised how big he was. You didn’t expect that looking at him from the other side of a screen.

“Do we put on a show for her or did you want a little privacy?”

“You won’t get away with this,” you hissed.

“Oh yeah? I locked you out of your social media, your pc, your bank… do you really want to see how far I can take this?”

He smothered your murmured answer with his mouth and kissed you gruffly. He pulled away and looked you in the eye. He bit his lip and hummed.

“So, do we do this here?”

“You’re sick,” you grabbed his hand and wrenched it away from your face. You yanked him and directed him to the bedroom, “you monster.”

“Now come on,” he twisted his wrist around and grabbed your elbow, “I could’ve killed her. Don’t think I won’t.”

You quivered as he forced you back into your bedroom, the street lights casting shadows between your curtains. He flung you ahead of him, as strong as his thick arms would suggest. You stumbled and caught yourself on the side of the bed. You turned as the door slammed and he prowled towards you like a wild cat.

“Well,” he threw his hands up and you caught a glint of light against the lens of his glasses, “you want me to undress you or you think you can handle that, sweetie?”

You puffed in repulsion and looked away from him. Even in the dark, you could feel his eyes on you. You jittered as you reached to the neck of your loose tee and slowly raised it over your head. You dropped it to crumple on the floor and you touched the top of your shorts. You heard him moving around and shied away as he flipped the switch and light shone across the room.

You pushed down your shorts as you heard a thump from the next room. His jaw twitched as his eyes lingered on you and he reluctantly glanced away. He swung the door open and stormed out into the front room. You went to the door and heard his snarl.

“Stop fucking moving,” he rasped, “every time I have to tell you, I’ll pop another out.”

Zia gave a muffled sob as you heard a sickly crack and you hurried to look around the wall into the room. He blocked your sight with his broad chest and pointed you back to the room.

“I didn’t say you could leave the room,” he spun you and slapped your bare ass, “fast, fast, fast… before I lose my patience.”

Your skin stung from the strike and you tripped through the doorway as he followed quickly. Another slam and he poked you further into the room with his knuckle. You stepped away from him and tried to cover yourself as you faced him in horror.

He quickly swooped his shirt over his head and revealed a buff chest thick with blond hair. He kicked off his shoes and fumbled to undo his fly. He tilted his head as he looked you over and groped himself through his jeans.

“You know what to do,” he said, “I’ve seen the way you touch yourself… cyber security 101, cover your webcam.”

You shuddered as he beckoned you closer. He stopped you and put your hands on the waist of his jeans. He leaned in and nuzzled your temple as his hot breath seeped into your goosebumped skin.

“My turn,” he pushed on your hands until you pulled down the denim on your own strength.

He stepped out of his jeans and snapped the elastic of his boxers. You stood and latched onto those shakily. He ran his fingers along your arms as you pulled them past his erection and they fell to the floor with a whisper. You didn’t look down, instead staring past him as his hand swept up to cup your tits.

His fingers crawled up your chest and his hands wrapped around your neck. He squeezed and turned you so that your back was to the bed. He marched you backwards as you felt his dick bobbing between your bodies. You gasped as he pushed you down onto your mattress, your legs dangling over the edge as he came up to straddle you.

“Such a good girl,” he taunted, “look at you… I bet you’re wet already.”

He pulled a hand away and stroked his length as he raised himself on his knees. He clung to your neck as he leaned over you and planted his hand on the bed above you. He hovered his dick over your head and you closed your eyes.

“Put it in your mouth,” he ordered, “now, or I’m putting it in your ass.”

You reached up blindly and angled his tip against your lips. He dipped his hips down and you choked as he prodded at your throat. Your legs twitched as he forced his cock past your gag reflex and your whole body tensed at the intrusion.

He balanced on the hand above your head and the one on your neck. He thrust harder and harder as sloppy sucking reverberated around the room between his dark groans.

“That’s it,” he purred, “look at you taking my cock. I can only imagine how tight that cunt of yours is.”

Your eyes welled and you flicked your lashes as you tried to bat them away. You kept your hand at the base of his dick as you tried to ease his motion. He ignored your reluctance and only delved deeper as he brought himself to his limit, your lips touching the fuzz along his pelvis.

When you couldn’t breath, you slapped his hard stomach and he reared out of you abruptly. You coughed up spit as he sat back on his heels and released you. He huffed as he looked down at his glistening dick and climbed off of you.

“Stand up, turn around,” he snarled as his eyes flashed.

His glasses were low on his nose and he slipped them off entirely and folded them up on your night table. He squinted as he watched you stand and turn stiffly. He smacked his hand in the middle of your back and pushed you over impatiently. He stepped closer and tapped his tip against your cunt as you were exposed to him.

He bent his legs and poked along your slick folds. You were wet enough for him to glide in and fill you up completely. He was so big it was painful and you arched your back as you tried to take it. He pulled back and slammed into you harshly. You let out a garble and he repeated the motion, taking you off your feet.

He leaned over you and grabbed your knees, lifting them on the bed as he urged you forward. His hand brushed up over your ass and he pressed between your shoulder blades until your face was flush to the mattress, your arms bent around you like a broken doll.

He thrust again and the loud slap made you wince. He jerked his hips roughly until he found his motion, rutting into you with hissy breaths as his other hand groped your ass. He hummed as your body shook before him, ruled by his touch as your walls clenched him.

He pushed his thumb down between your cheeks and circled your asshole. You strained and lifted your head in alarm. His other hand quickly stretched over your crown and pinned your face to the bed. He felt along your cunt and slickened his thumb before trailing back to your puckered ring.

He pushed lightly at first and as he broke through you gasped and whined. You gripped the blankets as he moved his thumb in and out of you, his hips still rocking steadily into you. He slid his thumb out entirely and prodded with two fingers instead. Before you could react, he forced them inside and you cried out in surprise and pain.

“I know you want it, sweetheart,” he groaned, “I can feel…” he kept fucking you, “I can fucking hear it.”

Your holes tightened around you as he carried the pace. A new pressure began to bloom inside of you, unlike anything you’d felt before. The burning in your ass and the stretching of your cunt mingled to an agonized bliss. You sobbed into the blankets as you came uncontrollably around him, shamed by the unwanted release.

“Fuck,” he drew out the word as both his hand and his hips sped up, “look at you cumming for me. Cumming for this creep.”

You moaned and curled your fingers around the duvet tighter. You felt the same knotting deep inside and you came again as he reached a tantamount. This time, you gushed around his cock and felt the deluge down your thighs as the noise grew wetter and louder.

“Look at you, sweetheart, you can’t handle it, can you?” He snorted as he sucked in a breath suddenly and his hips staggered.

He pushed his fingers deeper and kept them there as he fucked you as hard as he could. He slammed into your cunt over and over. Your hips throbbed with each tilt of his pelvis and you smothered your cries as you felt him coat your walls in his release.

He stopped just as suddenly and dragged his fingers out of your ass. He leaned against you until your legs collapsed and fell onto you with a sigh. He covered your body with his as his shallow breaths hazed around you.

Your own heart raced as you stretched your arms out stiffly and quivered. You tried to pull yourself from beneath him. He kept you pinned under his weight and jolted you with a cruel thrust.

“Oh, we’re not done, sweetheart,” he muttered along the shell of your ear, “not even close.”

#jake jensen #dark jake jensen #dark!jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #one shot #the losers #dc

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one-boring-person · 3 years

Note

Ok. A little different but I was thinking about Top Gun and I was wondering if you could do an Iceman x Mavericks little sister reader where they meet at a local bar near the base and slowly start falling in love

I hope you like this!😊💛

You Beat Me To It.

Tom "Iceman" Kazansky x reader

Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption (moderate)

Masterlist

As cliche as it sounds, it had all started with an unfortunate accident in the popular little bar near the airbase.

It was a busy night in the small place, as it usually was, the room filled to the brim with pilots, RIOs, ground staff and civilians. Music blared somewhere overhead, garish lights illuminating the area in their own peculiar way, casting an odd glow over every person there. People gathered and collected around the bar itself, the tenders never kept idle, money flowing in from a variety of hands, the alcohol and beverages keeping spirits alive throughout the bustling room. It had been here that Iceman found himself.

Slider had insisted they went on that night, despite his own reluctance; it had been a long day at the base and all he had really wanted to do was to sleep and rest. Of course, he knew there was no arguing with his RIO, the young man far too persistent for his own good, so naturally the pilot had found himself dragged into the busy bar, a beer shoved into his hand almost instantly. It hadn't taken long for the girls to start flocking to him.

Iceman knew he was good-looking, so he wasn't surprised that he was quickly engulfed in a crowd of eager women, all of which flirting and baying for his attention, though he could already tell none of them would tickle his fancy. He kept them entertained, joking with them and keeping them on their toes the entire time as he peered at them over his sunglasses, which he insisted on wearing inside, smirking as they swooned over him. Hands seemed to be everywhere, pressing at his shoulders, chest and stomach, feeling over the muscle in his arms, creeping up his neck until he batted them away with a pointed look. Eventually, he had tired of this, however, and went to push out of the gathered group. Misjudging himself, Iceman had then collided with someone else, a surprised yelp escaping the person as moisture spread between them.

Turning to them, Iceman had been ready with a sharp quip, finding himself tongue-tied when he actually saw who had bumped into him.

"Careful, big guy." Is all she said before she collected her composure and left, heading towards the other end of the room, where some others from the airbase were.

Frozen in place momentarily, he had watched as she went straight to Maverick and Goose, the former slinging an arm around her shoulders as she approached, grins appearing on their faces.

From that moment onwards, the two seemed unable to avoid meeting each other in the bar.

Not even a week later, Iceman had been sat at the bar, thankfully alone for once, slowly drinking from a beer bottle in front of him, the pilot deep in thought. Once again wearing his sunglasses inside, Ice never realised someone had come up beside him to order drinks until they spoke to him directly.

"Last I checked, the sun tends to stay outside." She had commented, tapping her fingers on the countertop as she waited for her drinks.

Looking up, Iceman had once again gone to say something sharp, only to be surprised when he immediately recognised the person standing beside him.

"Maybe it's not the sun I'm protecting my eyes from." Is all he can manage, pretty stuck under the intensity of her gaze, a somewhat familiar feeling he had when talking with a particular pilot.

"No? What, then?"

"When I've figured it out, I'll tell you."

She had given him a quick smile, then, thanking the bartender as he gave her the drinks, before leaving, returning to the group of aviators she was with.

Everytime after this moment, every conversation between the two had been started by a sarcastic or teasing comment on his choice of eyewear, both of them often finding themselves at the bar at the same time. It had been after their fifth time meeting that she actually stayed with him for more than a minute, placing herself into the stool beside him as he fought off a couple of persistent girls, her face creased into a barely concealed smirk of amusement. When he'd finally gotten rid of them, she'd passed him a beer with a knowing look.

"You ever gonna take those off?" She had asked him, gesturing to his sunglasses, sipping her own drink.

"Only when you finally tell me your name." Iceman had replied, smirking at her. In their last few meetings, he'd found he'd started to enjoy her company, often looking out for her when he first enters the bar.

"You only had to ask." She shrugged, holding out a hand, "I'm (Y/n)."

Taking her hand, he told her his name before reaching up to remove his sunglasses.

"Well, I can see why you always have a fan club." (Y/n) acknowledged, smiling at him to show she meant no harm.

"Thank you, but they're a right pain." He laughed, placing his glasses in his breast pocket.

"I can tell." She chuckled, sipping her drink.

"You often come here?" Iceman inquired, curious as to her reason for coming.

"Yeah, pretty often. I meet up with my brother here." She casts him a look, "You might know him. Pete Mitchell? I guess you'd know him as Maverick."

Iceman had done a double take.

"Maverick? He's your brother?"

"Yep. And before you say anything, he's just as annoying out of uniform as he is in uniform." (Y/n) rolled her eyes, gesturing to the pilot across the room.

"I thought he might be."

Following this meeting, it wasn't too hard to arrange a repeat of it, the two finding that they enjoyed themselves a whole lot more than they thought they would. Of course, as soon as Maverick had found out his sister was hanging out with his rival, there had been some trouble.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" The young pilot had snapped at him a couple of months after he and (Y/n) had first met.

"What are you talking about?" Iceman had responded, looking up from the beer in his hand to acknowledge his fellow pilot.

"My sister, you asshole! What's your deal with her?"

"My deal?"

"Yeah, your deal! What the hell do you want with her?" At this point, Goose had come up to stop his pilot from going too far, laughing it off as he always did.

"She's my friend. I don't want anything with her except that." He had told Maverick, though he knew it was a lie: he had developed a particular affection for the girl, finding her presence very enjoyable to be in at all times.

"Bullshit. I know what you're like, you want to get laid." Maverick had been quick to spit back, this comment feeling particularly unfair.

"No, I don't. (Y/n) and I are friends. Suck it up, dickhead." Iceman bit back, scowling at his fellow aviator angrily now, standing up so that he loomed over him.

"And even if we were more, that's none of your concern, Pete." (Y/n)'s voice cut through their argument, the girl coming to stand beside Iceman, an action that clearly irritated her brother.

"He's not good for you, (Y/n). Stop hanging out with him." Maverick tried to reason with her,

"No, he's my friend, and you don't control me."

"Come on, (Y/n), I'm just looking out for you."

Sighing, (Y/n) had then done the one thing that stuck with Iceman for months to come.

"No, you know what? Fuck you, Pete." And with that, she had kissed Iceman on the lips, right in front of her brother.

It hadn't been a particularly long kiss, or a particularly passionate one, but it had left him wanting more, his lips tingling with want as she pulled away after a second. And Maverick's face afterwards had been totally worth it.

(Y/n) had quickly left after that, leaving Maverick to go sulk with Goose, Iceman fighting with his morality, before he also got up and followed her from the room. Catching up to her just outside, he had taken her arm in his hand gently, pulling her into him. Without letting her speak, he had kissed her again, glad when she had reciprocated, heart skipping a beat when their lips had moulded together almost perfectly. For what felt like years, they had kissed, neither wanting to let go, not until they had to, at which point they'd pressed their foreheads together and stood still, breathing heavily into each other's faces. At that moment, their relationship had become much closer.

In all honesty, he wasn't expecting her to turn up.

(Y/n) had been distant in past months, but that was understandable - her brother lost his best friend, so it made sense that she'd want to be there for him to help him through it. Unfortunately, that had meant that interaction between her and Iceman had been sparse, though he had managed to ask her along to his graduation, which he was very much looking forward to. He was certain he'd won the Top Gun trophy with Slider, and he wanted her to see that.

So when he notices her sitting at the back of the crowd as he takes the award, he feels a burst of pride flare to life within him. With her slight absence in recent weeks had come a revelation, a revelation that he intends to tell her today, whilst the confidence of this win is still rife in his body. Nerves run rampant through him, worried that it will go wrong, though he is mostly sure of what he wants to say; somehow, this is worse than flying a plane into battle, the reaction here totally unforeseeable for him for some reason.

As the crowd gathers to congratulate everyone, he politely pushes through them to the back, focused on (Y/n) as she waits for him, a smile on her face. Quick to reach his destination, he laughs as she swiftly runs to him and climbs into his arms, holding him tightly.

"Congratulations, Ice. I'm so proud of you!" She says to him, looking up into his eyes with a broad smile, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"Thank you, (Y/n)." He grins back, unsure of whether or not now is the right time.

"Reaching up to play with the hairs at the base of his neck, (Y/n) seemingly considers something, before she leans up to whisper to him.

"I love you, Tom."

His heart nearly stops at her words, body filling with happiness, relief flooding his mind at the thought that she feels the same way.

"You beat me to it. I love you, too, (Y/n)." He hums back, pulling her in for a deeper kiss.

#top gun #top gun iceman #top gun imagine #iceman x reader #Iceman

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whippin-cream · 3 years

Text

Blooming Day, Part 1

You neve imagined that your engagement would fail, that you would move to Korea, or that by a series of coincidences you would meet your long-term celebrity crush, Byun Baekhyun. You most certainly never imagined that someone like him would take an interest in you either, but he did; and now you’re stuck because you don’t trust like you used to and you just aren’t quite sure if you have the courage to take a chance on him.

Wordcount: 4k

You let out a sigh as you dropped your spoon back into your tea. You wondered how long it would take for the cheap metal to turn the drink as bitter as you felt about the state of your life at the current moment. You flopped back onto the floor, still not having any actual furniture despite having been in Korea for just under a month now.

Who needed a sofa or a nice set of kitchen chairs when you had that homely camping chair you picked up for cheap at the street market? Sure, the arms were flimsy, the cup holder was too small, and it sagged very low when you sat in it, but, it was something and it was yours.

To be fair, you thought, you were never supposed to have been here.

You were supposed to have rejected the opportunity to study for a year in Korea in favor of finally marrying your fiancé in the Spring: transferring to a college just 15 minutes away from the job he was offered at some powerhouse music label.

That was what you had been planning ever since you got engaged 6 months ago. Even found a nice apartment with the view of a park filled to the brim with tall trees and dickhead geese that you liked to watch chase people. You spent so many Saturday mornings with Ethan on the balcony. Nothing sounded better than finally starting a life together with the man you loved more than yourself.

Well, at least until you came home early on your anniversary to surprise him with his favorite dessert and found him balls deep in your (former) best friend.

On the bed you paid for.

The bitch even had the nerve to be wearing the fancy set of lingerie that you had bought for yourself just a few months prior as a reward for acing a particularly brutal exam.

You remember dropping the sweets onto the floor, furiously yanking the diamond off your left hand, and throwing it somewhere in his general direction. You tightly clutched the purse that you never even got the chance to set down to your body and ran back out of the apartment. He rushed after you, yelling some bullshit about how it “didn’t mean anything”, “it isn’t what you think”, and “(Y/N), I love you! I’m sorry. Baby, please stop!”

You didn’t, though. Your brisk walked changed into a full sprint when curious neighbors opened their doors to take a peek at the commotion. They glanced repeatedly between the sobbing girl and the naked man yelling after her. It was by far the most humiliating experience of your life.

From there the details of that day get a little fuzzy, but you remember taking a taxi to the airport and buying a last-minute flight to Seoul. A child kicked the back of your seat for at least half the time you were in the air out of boredom, but you didn’t have the energy to tell him to stop. After a good five hours of doing nothing but staring blankly in front of you, you managed to drift off.

When you came to, a flight attendant was explaining to everyone that they needed to get ready to disembark. Her warm smile and friendly tone did nothing but annoy you. Who gave her the right to be so happy when your world just crumbled beneath your feet?

You knew you were being irrational, but still.

After making it to what appeared to be a small shopping center within the airport, you decided that you needed a drink. Preferably something warm and sugary to get you out of the daze you were in. Luckily, a Starbucks was nestled in between two shops: One being an overpriced gift shop and the other selling fast food that was far too greasy for the average customer. About 20 minutes later you were sitting alone on a barstool, with a half-full venti cup that was most definitely cold by now, but you didn’t mind.

With one more deep breath, you reached into your purse and slid out your phone. You had turned it off immediately after buying your plane tickets and you were scared of the notifications that you would receive. Part of you was even more scared that you wouldn’t receive any.

Was it possible for him to just toss five years together away so quickly? Could you? After all, he did say he was sorry. That it was all just a big mistake, and that he loved you and not her.

But how could he do something like that to you when he said he loved you? You loved him, and you most certainly never slept with another man. Especially not in the bed you shared with him and with his closest friend.

How many times had they done it? Was it truly a mistake? Maybe he had just gotten drunk and it was all one big accident. Your head started to hurt with all the possibilities floating through your mind.

You had shocked yourself with a quick, but firm smack to the center of your forehead. “You don’t accidentally stick your dick in someone else, idiot. Why would he be drunk at 2 pm? He knew what he was doing.”

With your thumb pressing into the power button you watched with bated breath as the welcome screen flashed on. You waited for the notifications to flood your phone; the flight to Seoul was long, surely, you’d have received many texts in that time, right? Your finger tapped anxiously on the screen as it refreshed.

Then, one after another a notification popped up in a bright banner at the top of the phone. There were several voicemails and even more texts. They started out apologetic, parroting the words he yelled after you in the hallway. However, they grew increasingly nasty. Ethan always did have a nasty temper, and it flared up when he was being ignored and when he was drunk.

Judging by how slurred his voice was in the last few messages, and how incoherent his texts became, it was safe to assume that he had downed the bottle of (far too expensive) whiskey he loved to always keep stocked at the house.

While you weren’t able to make out everything he said to you, the gist was that you were just some dumb little girl that he had settled for because you were safe. That he never loved you and that you needed to apologize to him for the scene you created when you left the apartment.

“The neighbors were staring.” Because that was your fault, just like the reason he cheated was your fault too, apparently.

He ended his drunken tirade by saying that you would never find a man like him again and that sooner or later you would come crawling back to him. After all, you were dating up by dating him, he claimed. "What other man would want you?"

Though, you did not go crawling back to him. Not even after he sobered up and the second round of “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any of it”s started back up again.

It was clear that he didn’t respect you. The only thing your father ever made you promise about how you would date is that you would not tolerate staying with a person who treated you with less dignity than you deserved. You knew that you would never be happy marrying a man that looked down on you. How would your life be anything but constant paranoia with a person that could run around with other women without even acting guilty about it?

It definitely was not easy, and there were times where you did consider that maybe you had overreacted. Admittedly, moving across the globe did seem rather dramatic at times, but going to Korea was something that you wanted to do long before you ever met Ethan. When you tried to look at things in a positive light, you saw that: you got to move on in your life, continue your education, and cross an item off of your bucket list all in one go. Despite trying your hardest to stay optimistic, most days you simply did not have the energy to do anything other than wallow in your own self-pity.

Today was one of those days.

You brought your hands to your chest and rolled over a few times to get on the sleeping mat you wanted to snuggle up in. While it was no Tempurpedic, it was surprisingly comfortable; especially when you wrapped yourself in the soft and bulky you crocheted the week prior.

You slipped off your glasses and placed them a few feet above the mat. Light was still pouring in through the window, so you brought your blanket up and over your head. It covered your eyes while the edge curved down around the side of your face and rested under your chin. You loved the darkness and all-around cozy feeling it provided without having your mouth covered by the blanket. You hated having your mouth covered by the blanket. It never felt like you could get enough air when it was.

Unfortunately for you, the sleep was not as comforting as you assumed it would be. The happy dreams where everything you could have ever wanted and hoped for were nowhere to be found that night, neither were the strange ones that left you with a feeling of confusion that you couldn’t quite shake when you woke up. Instead, you were plagued with watching a replay of your anniversary on loop.

After a few hours, you managed to pry your eyes open. Your skin felt uncomfortably sticky due to the cold sweat you had broken out in. You felt warm tears welling up in your eyes and threatening to spill over. You blinked them away, angry at yourself for still crying over him.

You felt pathetic.

You pressed the heels of your hands against your temples in a sad attempt to get the thump, thump, thumping in your head to stop. You raked your fingernails down your face, wincing at the slight burn you felt. You snatched the glasses from the ground and hastily shoved them onto your face.

You picked up your phone and tapped on it harder than you probably needed to. You didn’t know what you were expecting to find on your phone, but you hoped that there would be something there that stop the lonely feeling you felt in your chest from consuming you entirely.

Your salvation came in the form of a text from Minji. “CALL ME!!!” It read, several emojis following the exclamation points. It brought a smile to your lips. That was something Minji had always been good at.

You had first met her back in high school when she was taking part in her own foreign exchange program. The two of you became fast friends, staying in contact with one another even after she went back home to Korea. Her personality was bright and warm, and she had a knack for making even the most socially awkward people feel comfortable in her presence.

Despite your history, you had to admit that you were a bit shocked to hear from her. Seven months ago she became a trainee for SM entertainment, and your communication with her went from nearly daily to radio silence. It stung, but you understood. Becoming an idol had always been her dream, and you didn’t think it would be fair to try to distract her from that.

You had let her know when you first arrived in Korea, and while she seemed excited over the phone, she hadn’t seen you yet. You pressed the phone icon next to her name, opting to put the call on speaker because your earbuds were nowhere to be found.

“(Y/N)! You got my message.”

“Yeah, what’s up Minji?” You replied, lightly digging your fingers into your thumb. You couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous. You wondered what exactly it was that she needed.

“Look, I know I’ve been a bad friend. I have been distant lately, and this isn’t fair. Especially not to you. I mean, you’re the one who encouraged me to even go to the audition in the first place. If you hadn’t of yelled at me until I got off my ass and went…. Well, I wouldn’t be where I am now.”

She paused for a moment to take a breath.

“So, I want to make it up to you. I don’t exactly have the money to take you out for dinner or anything, but SM is having a party on Friday. All the trainees that are close to debuting will be there, and so will the established artists. It is supposed to help us build “inter-company relationships”; whatever that means. We are all allowed to bring a plus one, and I want that to be you. There will be expensive catering, and that fancy booze that is so easy to get drunk on since it doesn’t taste like alcohol. The perfect venue for catching up. So, what do you say?”

She sounded slightly awkward, but hopeful as well. Before you could answer she started speaking.

"I know it isn't exactly your scene, but I really want to see you."

"What's the dress code, Min? I wouldn't want to look totally out of place." You replied. You closed your eyes tightly. Minji was right, big parties were not your thing. However, you reasoned, maybe you needed something out of your comfort zone.

Minji squealed so loudly that you recoiled slightly. "Does that mean you're coming? Yes! Nothing too fancy, but not casual either. Remember, simple is sexy, baby."

You snorted and shook your head. "Okay, I'll keep that in mind."

"I'll text you the address.” You heard her name get called in the background. “Sorry, I have to get back to practice now. I’ll see you in a few days. Bye!” The line went dead, and you rolled back over. You felt a contentedness that you hadn’t felt since the breakup wash over you. It was nice to know that you still mattered to someone.

The days leading up to Friday flew by quickly. You had bought yourself a fitted black dress for the party. You wanted to look nice, but you didn’t exactly want to draw any unwanted attention to yourself either. You paired the dress with some flats and kept your makeup minimal as well.

You grinned at yourself and gave a little twirl when you did your final once over in the mirror. You rarely got to wear dresses; Ethan had always gotten upset with you when you tried. He thought they brought on too much male attention, and in the interests of keeping the peace you just gave them up.

You felt pretty.

You felt happy. Truly happy.

A pleasant warmth bloomed in your chest, and you could feel it spread throughout your body. You eyed the perfume you had bought and saved for a special occasion. This occasion, you decided, was special enough.

In 20 minutes time you found yourself in front of the doors to SM Entertainment. They seemed big, and mildly intimidating, but you pushed through them regardless. You sent Minji a text that you had arrived and you moved to stand by some chairs in the lobby.

You dug your fingers into your thumb while you waited. It stung a bit, but the feeling kept you grounded. You took in the architecture of the building, staring in awe at how sleek the whole place looked.

A hand on your shoulder startled you and you turned to see Minji’s smiling face. You smiled back at her, and you were quickly brought into a hug. It was slightly awkward, as a hug was a greeting she reserved for her foreign friends only. Nevertheless, you appreciated the gesture.

When she pulled away you finally got a good look at her. The first thing you noticed was that she was significantly slimmer. You felt a flash of self-consciousness hit you, but you quickly dismissed it.

“Come on, the party’s this way.”

After a few hallways, and a short elevator ride you found yourself in the reception room. It was loud, and lively. Minji led you closer to one of the walls by the back of the room. It was in close enough proximity to the dancefloor that you two could join in without too much trouble, but just quite enough that you two could talk comfortably. Minji spoke first.

She went on and on about all the funny things that happened in practice, and how she was so excited to have been placed in a group she knew would debut sometime in the near future. She hadn’t been given an exact date yet, but they had started to shoot promotional content. Minji explained that she had done three photoshoots in the past week, and cringed when she talked about how awkward she felt doing her solo shots.

She giggled and grabbed a glass of something pink and pretty from a waiter that was carrying them by. “I felt like I was doing school pictures again. Hopefully these ones turn out a little bit better.” She took a gulp of her drink and then nodded toward you.

“Enough about me. How have you been? How’s the wedding planning going?”

Ah, right. You hadn’t told her about the breakup yet.

You coughed awkwardly and brought your left hand up to show it off. “It’s…” you hesitated “It isn’t anymore. Ethan and I are over.” You averted your eyes, grabbing your own alcohol and downing it. When you looked back at Minji, her eyes were wide and she sputtered out a quick apology. Her cheeks were stained an embarrassed pink.

“What happened?” She questioned before she could stop herself. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

“I caught him and Rachel in bed together.” You answered simply, not wanting to go into too much detail. You didn’t want to ruin the night that had been so fun so far.

Minji’s face hardened. She had never liked Rachel, or Ethan for that matter. You knew that, and you were hoping to escape an “I told you so”. Minji scoffed. “What an asshole.” She muttered quietly. “Who needs him anyway?”

You smiled at her. “Not me; but what I do need is some more of this.” You held up your empty glass and shook it slightly.

After a few more drinks and reminisced memories you found yourself on the dancefloor with Minji. You felt the heat radiating off of you, and you weren’t sure if it was from the alcohol or from the dancing, but it was nearly too much for you. You made a mental note to just drink water for the rest of the night, but your head was fuzzy and you weren’t quite sure if you’d be able to resist a pina colada if one became accessible.

You weren’t the best dancer, especially compared to the trainees and idols surrounding you, but you were enjoying yourself. You felt a fresh rush of adrenaline hit you when Exo’s Wolf came on. You were sure you and Minji looked ridiculous when you made wolf ears with your hands at the “awoo” parts, but the two of you were laughing to hard to truly care.

“I haven’t heard this song in so long!” You shouted to her.

She looked at you in surprise. “What? But you love Exo.”

You nodded back to her. “I do, but Ethan didn’t like me listening to them.”

“Why not?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, he never really gave me a good reason.” Minji rolled her eyes once again.

“Just another reason to be glad he’s out of your life.” You giggled at her statement. She was right. The more you thought back on your relationship the more you realized that maybe he wasn’t really the prince charming you thought he was. You couldn’t just be you when you were with him. You were the you he wanted you to be. The only thing that you left the relationship with was a monthly payment to a landlord for an apartment you weren’t even living in. Ethan had refused to allow you to take your name off of the lease. So, fuck Ethan.

“Have you met them?” You asked. Her eyes brightened, and she nodded her head rapidly.

“Yes, and god. They are so much hotter in person.” You noticed a shift in her expression then. Something mischievous made its way onto her features. “Are you ever going to tell me who your bias is?”

You laughed. “Fuck no, Minji. Definitely not now. You know them! That would be weird.” You whined. You knew that if you admitted to holding a fondness for Baekhyun that you would never hear the end of it. She pouted at you. Her lip stuck out and it wobbled slightly.

You walked backwards a few steps and she followed. “Puppy dog eyes won’t work on me, Minji.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t know Exo that well. Just tell me.”

“Nope, too weird.” You laughed again. The room was spinning, and everything seemed far more funny to you than it should have. However, your laughter was cut short when you backed into the firm chest of someone behind you.

You felt the warm exhale of breath against your face as a voice you only recognized from interviews and fancams whispered in your ear. “What’s so weird about us?” You froze. A feeling of terror shot down your spine and your face became far hotter than you thought was humanly possible. That voice definitely belonged to a one Byun Baekhyun, and his tone was teasing. “Huh?” He questioned again. After the initial shock wore away, you realized that your body was completely pressed against his.

You shot away from him like you had been scalded. He had a Cheshire-cat grin plastered on his face. “N-nothing.” You stammered. Your eyes were so wide they nearly popped right out of your skull, and you were sure Minji’s were doing the same.

His eyes slowly glanced down the length of your body before his gaze found Minji’s. “Friend of yours?” He asked. She merely nodded in response. He turned his attention back to you and bowed slightly. “I’m Baekhyun, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You didn’t respond until you felt Minji elbow you in the side.

You bowed back, slightly lower than what he had given to you. “(Y/N).”

He grinned at you once again. He ran a hand through his neatly styled hair, causing a few strands to fall back over his forehead. His cheeks were flushed red, and you wondered if he was as tipsy as you were. “Minji, we are having a bit of an afterparty at the dorms later. Well, technically it’s supposed to be a mentorship meeting, but we want to make it fun, you know? The rest of your members have already been invited. Feel free to bring your friend along.”

He winked at the two of you, and then he was gone.

You stood there for a moment, not quite sure how to process what had just happened. You glanced over at Minji to find that she was already staring at you. “What the fuck was that?” You whispered to her. You felt a sudden need for secrecy, and it seemed she felt the same way.

“I think Baekhyun just hit on you.” You shook your head violently.

“And I think you’re crazy.” You stated, though conviction was nowhere to be found in your voice.

“You are coming with me to that afterparty.”

“I most certainly am not! You heard him. It is supposed to be a mentorship thing.”

“And you heard him when he said he wanted something more fun that that.” She hissed back.

“Minji.” You warned.

“(Y/N).” She shot back as she raised her eyebrows at you. “If nothing else, come for me. Tonight is our night to catch up, remember?” Your fingers went to your thumb, and you nodded your head. Butterflies bloomed in your stomach and you tried to expel them with a sigh.

“Okay, I’ll go.”

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camthesolemnone · 3 years

Note

Hi, I have like, 4 more ideas that came to me while I was at work, so #1: horror movie. Medic and Heacy are in their cottage, and have just watched a horror movie of some kind before they go to bed, right? Yeah. BUT! As they get ready, something odd happens that sets them both on edge (turns out it's just one of the birds or something) but they end up scarred and not wanting to go to sleep

I changed this one a bit but the main idea remains in-tact. I’m sorry that this took so long to get out and that the ending is kinda shitty. I’m working on the other prompts you sent me alongside this one! Also, I don’t know if you saw the pinned message or not but requests are now closed, so please hold off on sending any more.

"Is leetle Scout asleep as well?" Heavy asked, sitting comfortably on the rec room couch.

Medic nodded and reached for the VHS tape sitting on the glass table in the middle of the room. A tiny smile graced the Russian's features.

"Is good, we have television all to our selves!"

"Ja, and don't expect to sleep tonight, Mikhail! Herr Engineer told me that this is one of the scariest movies he’s ever seen," Ludwig replied, holding up the tape for his partner to see.

Written across the label in black sharpie was the simple word, 'Halloween.' The label should have been difficult to read in the dark, but the Russian noticed how it almost seemed to radiate a burgundy light...must have been some crazy glow-in-the-dark marker Engineer had invented, he concluded. Heavy crossed his arms triumphantly and laughed.

"Do not count on it, Doktor! Heavy is not phased by baby horror films!”

“Oh, we’ll see about that!”

A moment of time was spent struggling to find out which remote went to which device, but eventually, the pair got the movie inside the VHS player and smiled excitedly as color flooded the screen. Ludwig left the room briefly to make popcorn and plopped down on the couch next to his lover to click “Play” on the title screen upon his return.

“If Doktor gets scared, you can hold onto me~” Mikhail teased, and Ludwig shoved his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re 45 years old, liebe? Because right now, you sound like a lovestruck teenager!” The doctor shot, handing him the popcorn bowl.

“Well...” Heavy began, settling a massive arm around Medic’s shoulders, “One part of that statement is correct.”

Unsurprisingly, Heavy was correct about being immune to the movie’s horrors. Then again, Medic was also not affected by the film, so they took more pleasure in the plot and the acting then the actual scary moments.

Of course, Ludwig grew giddy when gore was involved.

“Hohoho! Look at all of that blood! If I was the killer in this scenario, I would collect it for future use,” he commented.

Heavy raised a questioning eyebrow and attempted to distract himself with the popcorn, but he soon came to the realization that there was nothing left but kernels. His German companion took to removing the bucket from his grasp and standing up.

“I need to use the bathroom, so I’ll take this back on the way,” the doctor stated, and the heavy weapons specialist nodded in response.

Mikhail was left all alone with the intensifying film in the dimly lit room. He would never admit it, but now that Ludwig was gone, he felt smaller. It wasn’t a feeling of fear but of slight unease; things would likely be alright for Heavy, but there was always a shred of uncertainty.

As time passed and the movie reached its climax, Heavy became more and more enthralled with the action, to the point where he forgot about Medic’s absence. His eyes were fixated on the glowing screen, his hands gripped tightly at the wool blanket surrounding him. Mikhail fell deep into the world of gruesome fantasy, and as a consequence, he nearly shot out of his seat at the sound of rapid footsteps and whisper-shouting coming from down the hall.

“Heavy! Oi, big guy!” Demoman said, urgency in his tone.

The Russian let his blanket drop to the floor and stared at the demolitions expert with confusion and anxiousness. The Scot all but captured his arm with both of his own and began dragging him down the hall as best as he could.

“Slow down, Tavish. What is this about?” Mikhail asked.

Demo turned his gaze back to his teammate.

“The Doc ‘s dead in the cludgie!”

Heavy’s eyes widened with shock, emotional pain, and fury towards whoever had committed such an act. Sure, Medic would respawn, but whoever had laid a finger on his beloved doctor was in for a beatdown. Unless it was an accident, in which case Mikhail would scold the German about being reckless.

The pair burst through the door to the community showers and the Russian nearly gasped at the sight. Ludwig laid unmoving in the center of the room with blood staining the front of his lab coat and the ground surrounding him. There was no weapon to be found, but in the corner of the room, with his back towards the door, sat a curled up, trembling, mumbling Scout.

Mikhail’s first thought was that Jeremy had committed this grisly murder, but Tavish put a hand out in front of his chest before he could progress. The Russian opted for whispering Medic’s name as a substitute.

“Scout! What the hell happened here!” Demo cried.

The young runner didn’t reply. He continued to rock back and forth, murmuring and wrapping his arms around himself. The Scot approached him cautiously, taking a calm, more concerned approach. Heavy followed.

“Aye, are you alright, mate?”

Demo reached out to put a hand on Scout’s shoulder, and a series of rapid events unfolded.

Scout’s entire body whipped around and stood up, and the Bostonian let out a high pitched, almost demonic screech. In his left hand was a knife stained in blood, Medic’s blood, and Heavy and Demo exhibited two very different reactions.

Demoman yelped and jumped back, going into flight mode. The massive Russian on the other hand, fearful for the lives of himself and his friend, took a strong step forward and lashed out at Jeremy’s face. One square punch to the jaw was enough to send the man flying across the communal bathroom and into the wall. He slumped over after the hit, out cold.

“What in the-! It was almost like that boy was possessed!” Demo shouted.

When Mikhail and Tavish’s hurried breathing finally began to slow, a new sound rang throughout the room: laughter.

Medic was rolling on the floor alive and well, laughing his ass off and further soiling his labcoat. Heavy gasped out a “Doktor!” at the man’s sudden revival while Demoman stood frozen.

“Hahaha! I can’t believe it! I just thought I’d have a bit of fun scaring you, liebe, but watching you knock out Scout was far more amusing!” The doctor exclaimed, rolling on his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows like a teenage girl lying on her bed while talking to a friend over the phone.

Demoman was the first to flare up.

“What?! So you’re saying this was all a prank?! You’re sick in the head, Medic!”

The Scot was tempted to slap him silly, but with Heavy in the room, that clearly wasn’t an option. With another frustrated grunt, he stomped off and back to bed.

Now it was Heavy’s turn.

“That was not funny, Ludwig! Heavy thought you were dead!” He scowled.

The doctor hauled himself off the ground and stood up straight, wiping some of the fake(?) blood on his hands off onto his lab coat.

“What’s there to worry about? Even if I had been stabbed, I would have just respawned, Mikhail.”

“I know, but...”

Medic’s expression dropped. His love had one massive paw gripping his opposite forearm and his face was distraught. He looked smaller, scared almost, and a tiny crack situated itself in the German’s heart. If he had known such an act would hurt Heavy so deeply, he wouldn’t have even thought about going through with it. There was also the issue of Scout. Ludwig relished the sight of the cocky, annoying Boston boy being beat up, but for once, he regretted roping him into his plans. The runner had been all too willing to help him with the scare, and Medic repaid him with his bear’s violence.

He sighed and shook his head at himself internally. Yes, his prank hadn’t been very rational, he concluded.

With slow, apologetic steps, Medic approached his partner and wrapped his arms around him gently, rubbing his broad back with one hand.

“Es tut mir leid, Heavy. This was all very foolish of me,” he admitted.

Heavy returned the embrace and buried his nose into his doctor’s hair, which smelled of blood and autumn leaves.

“You know it is because I do not like seeing you hurt, moya lyubov. Every time evil Spy kills you on battlefield, my blood boils. Would sacrifice myself a million times to keep you safe,” he murmured, and Ludwig’s heart cracked a little more.

His arms tightened around the giant with increased guilt. It pained him profoundly to see Mikhail die too.

“I love you, Heavy. From the bottom of my soul, I am truly sorry.”

The Russian moved one hand from the smaller man’s waist to cup his cheek protectively.

“I love you too, Doktor, but please, do not play with death. Someday, we will not get another life.”

The credits of the movie had long concluded by the time the two of them returned to the rec room. Medic was rather disappointed that he had missed the latter half of the film, but what made up for it was a soft kiss to his forehead and a set of teasing words given to him by his lover before being sent off to sleep.

“Next time, we watch psychological thriller, da? Less gore will give you less dangerous ideas,” Mikhail suggested, patting a hand on Ludwig’s shoulder.

The doctor laughed and gave him a sly smile that warded off his fears, allowed him to breathe normally again. He was still alive.

“I like the sound of that, but you’re making the popcorn!”

#tf2 #heavymedic #horror films #fanfiction

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pitch-pearl-void · 3 years

Text

Anyone interested in a WIP Pitch Pearl series rewrite?

A click resounded off the walls of the dark tunnel. Danny's heart--already racing--shot an extra burst of adrenaline through his system. He spun on his heel and booked it toward the exit. A high-pitched hum began, and his eyes widened. He had reacted so fast because he thought his parents' ghost portal had a ghost haunting it already, but the reality of what was happening set in as the electronic hum grew louder.

The portal was turning on--with him inside.

"Danny?" Sam called, her usual drawl replaced by fear.

Tucker, more tech-savy, skipped fear and latched onto desperation, screaming, "Get out of there!"

The warning would have come too late if Danny hadn't already been on the move.

Green light began to fill the tunnel, but Danny didn't linger to see beyond that initial flare. He leapt forward and landed painfully on his chest outside the tunnel, sliding a few inches across the metal floor.. Something burst from the tunnel, surging above him, pulling at his hair, screeching in his ears. Tucker and Sam screamed his name. Danny pressed himself flat on the floor and didn't dare to so much as breathe. He could feel the burn of electricity singing the side of his face, the only part of his body not protected by the jumpsuit.

It lasted only a few seconds, but even after the energy dissipated from the air and the tunnel's humming was replaced by an odd-sounding song, Danny didn't move--couldn't move. He was paralyzed. Tucker and Sam landed on their knees on either side of him and had to bodily lift him up. Still limp, however, his muscles refusing to respond in any way, he couldn't sit up on his own. He slumped against Sam, but she didn't seem to mind. She wrapped her arms tightly around him. Tucker did the same on Danny's other side, pressing his face into Danny's neck.

Finally, Danny's lungs started working again. He gasped in a breath. And then another. Another. Another.

"Holy shit!" Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. "I--I--"

"You're okay," Sam said, more to herself than to Danny. "You're okay..."

"I almost died!"

Tucker squeezed Danny tighter. "Don't," he said, his voice thick, strangled, "don't you ever scare me like that again."

"Scare you?" Danny laughed. He lifted his hand. It was trembling so violently he couldn't hold it level. "Holy shit..."

Frightened as he was, Danny was sure he could have remained in his friends' arms, safe and loved for at least an hour, but the odd song behind them altered pitch, and a voice called out, "Um, excuse me, but what the fuck?"

The group hug became rigid.

"Danny," Tucker whispered, "did you say something?"

"My voice doesn't sound like that, Tuck," Danny hissed back.

"I mean, it sort of does. And if you didn't say anything..."

Slowly, Sam and Tucker turned their heads to the side. Danny, his back to the portal, held absolutely still. Whatever his friends saw, they didn't exactly hug him tighter, but Tucker leaned closer and Sam whispered a prayer.

Danny swallowed. "What is it?"

"Uh," Tucker said, "the, uh, the good news is the portal is working!"

Danny sucked in a breath. He wouldn't call that good news. Having a portal that led to the ghost dimension inside his house wasn't something he had been looking forward to, but if that was the good news... "What's the bad news?"

"There's a boy in the portal," Sam answered before Tucker could. "He's just kind of floating there. Inside the portal. But I think he's stuck." She waited a moment, watching the portal--watching the boy--and then her arms relaxed around Danny. "Yeah, I think we're safe. I don't think he can get through."

That was a relief, if true, but Danny needed to see it for himself. He shifted on his knees. Sam and Tucker pulled away, but Danny's legs were still shaky, not quite steady enough to stand on his own. "Um...guys, could you...?"

Danny's friends stood and then reached down, grabbed his hands, and helped Danny climb to his feet, neither one taking their eyes off the portal.

"He kind of looks like you," Tucker whispered.

"Would you stop?" Danny whispered back. "That's gotta be, like, bad luck or something, saying someone looks like a ghost."

"I didn't say you look like a ghost, I said he looks like you."

"Same difference!"

"Guys," Sam hissed.

Slowly, reluctantly, his heart beating wildly, Danny turned around. The boy inside the portal stared back at him, his head tilted slightly to the side. The portal itself appeared as a swirling green vortex, and in between that vortex and Danny floated the boy. He had raised his hands and seemed to be placing them against...some sort of surface on Danny's side of the portal.

If not for the green vortex, his unnaturally white hair, the acidic green of his eyes, or the fact he had no legs, he could almost pass as a human. Danny had always imagined a ghost would look more...monstrous. Like the turkey and ecto-weenies his parents sometimes brought to life.

This boy had normal-looking human eyes, not the solid green pits Danny had seen before. He wasn't baring sharp teeth at them and he wasn't...doing anything threatening, really. He wore a black t-shirt that sort of floated around his chest, and his hair--cut in the same style as Danny's but a pure bright white--swayed slightly as the boy ghost bobbed up and down.

"See?" Tucker whispered. "He totally looks like you."

"In the face, maybe," Sam whispered back. "But I think his shoulders are broader than Danny's. And maybe his arms...."

"Gee, thanks," Danny whispered sarcastically. "Why not point out I actually have legs while you're at it?"

The ghost boy raised an eyebrow, and a horrible suspicion occurred to Danny. There was a tiny popping sound and then the ghost's tail--previously undulating like an eel--split into a pair of legs clothed in a pair of ragged jeans. Despite his new feet, the ghost continued to float above the ground--if he even had ground on his side of the portal.

"I have legs," the ghost said, speaking at a normal volume, confirming Danny's fear, "when I want them, anyway."

His voice had a strange overlay to it, as though it was both hollow and resounding. It raised the hairs on Danny's arms and neck. He backed up a step.

"Who are you?" the ghost continued. "What are you?" He tilted his head farther to the side and narrowed his eyes. "And what did you do to my lair?"

"Oh shit," Tucker whispered, more quietly than before.

Sam stepped forward. "We could ask you the same thing. Who and what are you?"

The ghost's eyes finally moved away from Danny, sliding over to Sam instead. "Phantom. I'm a ghost who just had his home destroyed by an artificial portal. I'm guessing that was your--" his gaze scanned the three of them "--fault. Natural portals don't get ripped open, and they definitely don't open inside a ghost's lair. So what is it you're after? Who and what are you?"

"Dude, we're just human kids," Tucker said, holding up his hands. "It wasn't even supposed to turn on!"

"My parents built it," Danny said, taking another step back. "But it didn't work. It wasn't supposed to work! They gave up on it!"

"Yeah!" Tucker nodded vigorously. "Yeah! We just dared Danny to go in there because he was being a complete chicken about it--"

"I was not!"

"You were!"

"How did it turn on, anyway?" Sam asked.

"Danny must have pressed an on-switch inside the tunnel," Tucker said. "Since we didn't unplug anything it turned on while he was inside. That's not supposed to happen. You're supposed to turn it on and then plug it in. Your dad must have forgotten to press the on-switch before they plugged it in or something."

"Sounds like Dad..." Danny muttered.

"So..." the ghost, Phantom, said slowly, "it was an accident?"

"Yeah!"

"Total accident."

"Basically."

Slowly, the ghost's rigid posture eased, settling into a more relaxed pose. "Oh," he said softly, warily. "That's...good. It doesn't help me get my lair back--or get out of here--but that's...good."

"You could go back to your world," Danny muttered.

Sam elbowed him in the side and he grunted.

"I can't, actually," Phantom said. "There is a barrier on that side as well. I'm stuck inside...whatever this is."

Sam sucked in a breath. "You’re stuck?"

"Oh no," Danny groaned.

"Like in a cage?"

Tucker sighed and rolled his eyes. "Here we go..."

Sam rounded on her friends. "We have to get him out!"

Danny held up his hands, shaking his head. "Nuh-uh, no way, Sam. We can't just, like, open the door to the ghost world. What if he's dangerous?"

Tucker looked at the ghost trapped inside the portal. "Are you dangerous?"

Phantom cocked his head to the side. "No?"

"Ha!" Sam cheered.

"That doesn't prove anything!" Danny objected. "He could be lying!"

Tucker, smirking, asked the ghost, "Are you lyi--"

"Tucker!"

"Well, we can't just leave him trapped in there forever." Sam walked toward the portal, ignoring Danny hissing her name. "How would you like to be trapped in a vortex for the rest of your life?"

"It's more like a tunnel than a vortex," Phantom admitted.

"A cage is a cage!" Sam placed her hands over Phantom's, the barrier acting like a glass panel between them. "And we're getting you out of this one."

---

An au in which Danny has ghost phobia, Phantom doesn’t know anything about the human world, and Sam and Tucker are determined to befriend a ghost come hell or high water lol. Some of the Danny/Sam scenes will be replaced with Phantom/Danny (because that was what started this) but because Danny has an extreme fear of ghosts, brought on by his parents experiments and stories, it’s going to very slow burn. By comparison.

To keep from rewriting, like, everything, I’m thinking I’ll try condensing the scenes that don’t change (the food fight in Mystery Meat for instance) as either a diary entry or as a rushed description of events? Whichever way feels more natural...I want to get at least one full scene written for each episode.

This may be too ambitious but idk, I would love to hear your guys’ thoughts!

#Danny Phantom #pitch pearl #Danny Fenton #Phantom and Danny as different people #pitchpearl

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timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 2 - Auction

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @hyunvelies

“You no longer own me.”

The guppies in the tank that spans nearly half the space of the wall flush around, their brightly colored and flared tails gently wading in the water. Juyeon gently taps on the glass, the yellow guppy swimming towards him instead of away. The shelves are stacked with books on marine life and nature, posters of the Northern Lights dawn the walls if they weren’t covered in the latest Apple commercial poster.

He hears the hurried footsteps before he hears his assistant, who is huffing by the time she’s at the door of his office. “Anything urgent, Miss Young? Forgive me if I imagined I told you that I would be unavailable until after lunch.”

“Sir, I think you should see the news. I know why your parents aren’t in office today.”

“What?” Juyeon finally pulls away from the tank, worried eyes scanning his assistant. She’s well-dressed, has short hair and ruby cheeks. She looks like she belongs in high school. “Anything serious happen? An accident?”

“Um, no, it’s just--”

Ring ring

Lee Juyeon turns to the phone set on his table, then side-eyes Young Jin Seol, feet turning toward the device.

“No, sir! Wait, before you--”

“Hello?”

“Good morning, Mr Lee. We’re calling from The Board to request your availability tonight for a press conference regarding today’s updates.”

Juyeon scoffs gently, standing straight up and resting a hand on his hip. He turns to look at Jin Seol, eyes filled with caution, as if they meant to say I told you not to pick it up.

“I’m sorry but... what updates?”

“The change in ownership of HERA & ARTEMIS and the marriage.”

There’s a brooding uneasiness in his gut as he processes the heavy word. In the world of corporate under The Board, the word ‘marriage’ is nothing but a contract.

“Remind me who this concerns?”

“You, sir. The marriage between you and Kim Jang Won. The Board would like your presence during a press conference to address the marriage as well as the following change in ownership of HERA & ARTEMIS.”

It’s like Medusa has just stared him straight in the eye, for Juyeon fails to respond in any way possible.

“Uh... sir? Hello? Mr Lee Juyeon?”

Jin Seol rushes over, able to hear the voice on the other end calling out to him. She grabs the phone and presses it to her ear, eyes plastered to Juyeon, whose lips seemed to be whitening. “Hi, this is Young Jin Seol, Mr Lee’s assistant. He’s not feeling very well now, so I’ll get him to give you a call later regarding the press conference, if that’s alright.”

“Oh, um, of course. But we’d like to have details settled by 1pm later, Miss Young. If it’s not too troubling to relay the message to Mr Lee.”

“Rest assured, he’ll...” Jin Seol watches Juyeon trudge to the couches sitting before the tank, sinking into the soft cushion and pressing his fingers into his closed lids. “I’ll make sure he gets back to you by then.”

Juyeon can feel the skin on his chest stretch when he sucks in a deep breath. The nonsensical thoughts start to crowd his head in the most logical way possible, if that was even possible. Luckily, the only thing he could hear was the bubbling of the oxygen pump in the tank.

He hears Jin Seol return the phone back into the phone set before he finally opens his eyes, vision a little blurred from the pressure of his fingers.

“I could schedule them in straight away but I have a feeling you’d want to talk to your parents first, Mr Lee.”

Juyeon brings his palms down to his nose and mouth, lips perpendicular to his index finger and his thumbs under his chin as he focuses on the table before him. The white tulips in the vase have already started to brown.

“Schedule them for lunch at 11 and I’d like to be left alone from 12.30 to 1. I’ll call The Board myself afterwards,” Juyeon notes the coldness in his voice, an element he doesn’t even recognise much. “My parents and I have alot to talk about.”

The Director of Chang’s Funeral Services personally flips open the file, turning it and sliding it across the table to the siblings sitting opposite them. Mr Chang would’ve shat himself if Kim Jang Won had come alone - she doesn’t have the title ‘Hera’s Princess’ for nothing. It’s a good thing ‘The Prince of Artemis’ had come with her. But maybe that’s just it, isn’t it?

What if he pulled out a gun and shot me right now?

Younghoon’s eyes conscientiously process the printed words on the document, his sister a little too over the edge to be paying attention to anything.

“We-- Um, carried out an investigation and realised that the bodies were... well... mismatched.”

Younghoon listens, but his gaze is still on the carbon print. The file was labelled KIM JO-PIL but the papers in the folder belonged to someone else. Someone else’s body. A common city address.

“Have you excavated the body?”

“In progress, Mr Kim. They should be calling any time now for after identification.”

“I don’t suppose you have the documents for Kim Jo-Pil? The ones that were supposed to be in this folder?”

“The thing is... I remember seeing the documents. My colleagues have too. The people in charge of your father’s burial saw it too. But... if it’s not in this office then frankly, I’ve got no clue where it would be.”

For the first time in 3 hours, Jang Won actually looks somewhat understanding, sympathetic, empathetic. Younghoon shuts the file and slides it over to Jang Won when she sits up in her seat.

“If you don’t mind, we’ll take the file and contact the deceased’s family. When’s that body identification phone call coming in?” Then the 3-hour streak is lost, and Younghoon sighs exasperatedly, out of her peripheral vision. “Taking mighty long for a simply body identification, no?”

Flustered, Mr Chang fumbles for the phone set sitting in the corner of his desk, hurriedly dialing a number.

“Where do you think he ran to for 2 years?” Jang Won squints at the deceased’s information. “Why 2 years?”

Younghoon runs a hand through his hair, probably worth about half a million Korean Won. “You ask me as if I know any more than you do.”

Mr Chang is finally talking to someone. Jang Won’s focus fixates on something familiar at the bottom of the page.

“That’s because maybe you do,” Lifting the file, she points to the bottommost section.

LAST OCCUPATION:

PHOTOGRAPHER FOR ARTEMIS ENTERTAINMENT GROUP

“It’s your company and subsidiary. I’m surprised you don’t recognise the name.”

“I might own Artemis but I don’t personally know all 278 employees. If he’s a photographer and I don’t recognise him, that means he’s in another department. Women, or children or product. I’m only listed as a model under the ‘Males’ department.”

There’s a silence in the air that allowed Younghoon to hear the gears churning in Jang Won’s head. The appearance of Kim Jo-Pil, 2 years after his supposed death, has just dragged both his children and everybody else related into a mess of a puzzle. But Younghoon has no doubt his sister can find all the pieces, much less draw the connections.

There’s a reason why she could build HERA & ARTEMIS from the ground up.

Mr Chang finally hangs up, sighing heavily as he looks at the powerful siblings over the rim of his glasses. “They’ve confirmed. The body in the coffin you saw your father in belongs to the man in the document.”

Younghoon chortles in disbelief. “Right then. So our father did die, but someone managed to swap the bodies before it was lowered, and then proceeded to keep him alive for the next 2 years.”

Jang Won flips and finds a portrait of the dead man. “Question is... who?”

Younghoon stands up first, thanking Mr Chang and tapping Jang Won as he turns for the exit of the office. The Director doesn’t even get a chance to bid his goodbye when Jang Won leaves, behind Younghoon.

Escorted by four bodyguards, the siblings walk side by side with her heels clicking against the floor. Upon reaching the first floor, the lift doors ding open into an array of reporters hustling outside the entrance.

“Get them out of my face before I ruin their lives!”

The guards rush before them, hurriedly trying to disperse the crowd. Jang Won pulls out her sunglasses, covering her eyes.

“Time-wasting assholes.”

The shouted questions are loud and intrusive. The short distance of a few tens of metres feel like a mile from all the shoving and yelling. The flashes refuse to cease, but they’ve been in the spotlight for so long, it just gets annoying.

BREAKING: KIM YOUNGHOON AND KIM JANG WON SPOTTED AT CHANG’S FUNERAL SERVICES - KIM JO-PIL CONFIRMED TO HAVE BEEN SWAPPED OUT BEFORE BURIAL TWO YEARS AGO

Juyeon turns into the private room the restaurant manager has led him to, leaving him at the door whilst his parents gawk at the headlines blasting on the screen mounted to the wall. There’s a picture of Kim Jang Won and her brother getting into a car right below the headlines.

“Quite a mess, isn’t it?”

Both of them whip around to see the young man standing by the door, pushing himself off the frame and strutting into the private room. The whole fit he was wearing could buy a short vacation. His father reaches for the remote and shuts off the television.

“I expect nothing less from Kim Jo-Pil, given the history of HERA & ARTEMIS. It was just a matter of time before his daughter took over and turned it into a multi-billion name,” His mother sings, fingers around the base of a glass of wine and carefully swirling the blood-red liquid.

Juyeon sits, and a waiter comes by to fill his glass with wine. The gentle whir of the air-conditioning in the room is the only source of noise, other than the waiter taking his leave. Juyeon picks up the glass, raising a brow as he brings it to his lips. “I expect nothing less from my own parents when they are about to put me up for a certain type of contract,” He pauses, the glass in mid-air. “Say... a marriage.”

His lips meet the curve of the glass and he takes a sip.

“We wanted to tell you before we agreed, but--”

“But the money’s more worth?” He winces from the alcohol in the wine, frowning and offering a sarcastic purse of his lips. “I can imagine. All that stuff you have at home... you know, grand piano worth five million, a kitchen big enough for a herd of horses-- oh, not to mention the actual stable of horses... Yeah, I guess... I guess I could empathise with how you needed more than those. Planning a re-deco? I might know some great architects.”

“Juyeon...”

“No, no,” Placing down the glass, he waves his hand. “Let me put things into perspective for you. After all, gotta make the homework I did on my way here worth it right? See if it’s correct.”

Juyeon clears his throat and cracks his knuckles, knowing that his parents are offering him the most miserable looks they’ve ever given him in his life.

“The Board announces Kim Jo-Pil’s return. HERA & ARTEMIS goes back under his belt, leaving Kim Jang Won, current owner and might I say, the very reason why HERA & ARTEMIS is as good as it is today, jobless and absolutely helpless in a ditch. The Board then passes a rule, one which I have never heard before in my life, maybe because it’s never happened before, but... in order for Kim Jang Won to re-obtain some kind of ownership or at least some part of HERA & ARTEMIS, she must marry a name attached to The Board. And the two of you, seeing how rich and successful Kim Jang Won has made HERA & ARTEMIS, snatched the offer up first and put me on the stage... for auction.”

“Auction...!”

“Correct me, will you? Because that’s exactly what I think you did. What, becoming the next director of Apple-Korea isn’t enough for you? Owning the Korean branch of one of the largest tech companies in the world isn’t enough-- you must have a fashion-retail company?!”

The entire room falls into heavy silence. The waiters knock before entering with some seafood appetizer. Juyeon sucks his lips between his teeth, nibbling anxiously on his bottom one.

“Juyeon...” His father waits for the waiter to leave. “We... we just wanted the best for you. You know how powerful the Kim family is. Any remote connection to them will do us good. It’ll do you good.”

He scoffs and rubs his forehead with his index and middle finger. “I really have no clue what’s going on in those heads of yours sometimes.”

“I don’t know why you’re so against this, Juyeon. It’ll be helpful to you in your future!”

“As opposed to what? Wanting to be a marine biologist? Wanting to study the waters and nature? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

Thinking that his father would hush his mother, Juyeon is surprised when he doesn’t.

“Wow, really? Nothing?”

Silence.

His mother picks up a fork.

“Very nice to know that you’re treating me like a piece of property instead of your son.”

Juyeon pulls the napkin off his lap and stands.

“Oh, and uh... Don’t wait for a wedding invitation. You’re not getting one.”

“Juyeon!” His parents collectively exclaim in disdain, eyes widening as he struts towards the exit and out of the room.

“What? You auctioned me off! You no longer own me, right?!”

Juyeon huffs angrily, hands running through his hair and ruining his own efforts of waxing his hair. He enters the lift, multiple staff members looking at him stride into the metallic box, confused. His fingers search for his phone in the pocket of his blazer, the device buzzing non-stop from the headlines and messages and emails from broadcasting companies and companies he couldn’t give two shits about.

But when the lift doors open and he sees the Kim Jang Won standing right outside with the same suit and sunglasses he had previously seen her on TV with, his eyes widen with a mix of surprise and distaste.

“Well, if it isn’t Kim Jang Won... or might I say, my fiancé?”

“My dad couldn’t have done this on his own. I have a theory, and multiple plans to fix this mess of a shitshow, so I’m here to figure out if you wanna be in on it.”

Juyeon scoffs and shoves his hands into his pockets, stepping out of the lift and staring down straight at her. He attempts to search for her eyes through the chocolate-brown shade of her sunglasses, but fails.

A tiny smirk crawls unto her lips as she pulls it off, her bright, sparkling, manipulative eyes ignite some flame in Juyeon.

Because that’s just how smart and cunning Kim Jang Won is.

“I know you don’t give a shit, Lee Juyeon. About The Board, about the marriage, about Apple.”

He chuckles, teeth wiping his canine teeth as he pulls his shoulders back. “So you Googled me. Should I be impressed?”

Then his phone buzzes and he pulls it out in a bid to display some kind of disinterest.

Young Jin Seol [12.13pm]: The tulips are here! [photo]

He blinks, eyes travelling from the screen to the most powerful figure of his generation under The Board.

“If I could find this out from Google, I think you should revisit your privacy logistics,” Kim Jang Won squints one eye and raises her brow. “I’m not here to confuse you or piss you off, Lee Juyeon. I’m here with an offer, to save both our asses. I want HERA & ARTEMIS back but I cannot do it if I have no link to it.”

“What’s in it for me then? It’s not like you can buy me a degree in marine biology.”

“I can’t but you could have the freedom to do so. I’ll pay for you to start your own company. Whoever said you needed a degree to do what you wanted to do? In this world... all you need is money and a little bit of brain... but!” She points to him her sunglasses. “You don’t have to worry about either because I’ve got that covered. All I need you to do is get down on one knee -- willingly -- for the whole world to see... and I’ll give you your freedom.”

Juyeon sucks in a deep breath so hard that he wheezes and Kim Jang Won could not be any more satisfied with herself.

#juyeon #tbz #the boyz #the boyz juyeon #juyeon fanfic #juyeon scenario #juyeon scenarios #lee juyeon #lee juyeon scenario #lee juyeon fanfic #the boyz lee juyeon #tbz juyeon #love me a little less

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sabraeal · 3 years

Text

Sic Semper Monstrum, Chapter 6

[Read on AO3]

Obiyukiweek 2021, Day 2: Death Upright: Change, Ending, Release Reversed: Refusal to Change, Unfulfillment, Stagnation

A seam strains along a well-worn shoulder, so stretched he can actually hear it creak over the din of the canteen. That clinches is: that asshole’s got to be picking out too-small fatigues from the GI bin.

There’s no other way for him to look like that, biceps testing the tensile strength of cotton every time he takes a sip of his coffee. Sure, this guy’s jacked the way all the active rangers are, ready to heave 750 tons of metal onto their backs at a moment’s notice, but he’s not Mitsuhide. It makes sense when he pops buttons off his coverall, or stretches out one of their dingy cotton tees. But that’s not this asshole.

He’s lean, the kind that telegraphs that taking an elbow from him might be career limiting. There’s no reason the general issue tee should cling to his back like it’s painted on, his coverall hanging off his hips like he’s got an occupation other than freeloading. Shirayuki leans over, fingertips brushing over his sleeve with a laugh--

“Just punch him already,” Kiki drawls, “get it out of your system.”

Zen blinks, suddenly aware there’s still some Taco Tuesday left in his mouth. “What?”

“Kiki.” Dark bruises circle the skin beneath Mitsuhide’s eyes, underscoring the weary strain in his voices. “We shouldn’t be encouraging that sort of behavior.”

“Why not?” Her elbows dig into formica as she leans over her plate, shoveling rice into her mouth. At her father’s table, Kiki knows the use of every spoon, the name of every fork, but this deep in the dome, Ranger Seiran’s never met a meal she can’t inhale in five minutes flat. “I did it.”

Air hisses right through his perfect teeth, the only sign he’s annoyed besides the tense bar of his shoulders. “And you’re lucky you didn’t get caught.”

Kiki hums around the lip of her mug. “You mean like you did with Lugis?”

Mitsuhide doesn’t have skin like his, the sort that flares up like flash paper at the barest hint of sun or taunting. But still his neck flushes red as a burn, so bright Zen’s half tempted to slap it, just so he knows what it’s like.

“T-that was an accident,” he insists, even as his mouth settles into a satisfied smile. “Even the inquiry said so.”

It’s a struggle to keep his own from curling at the edges. “Only because Lugis didn’t want to press charges.”

“Only because he didn’t want it getting out that a girl ran circles around him on the mat,” Kiki corrects, each word a scalpel’s slice, excising those particulars from that shitshow with surgical precision. They can talk about this; Lugis’s challenge and the way Kiki swept him; that he was hardly on his feet when Mitsuhide somehow mislaid his fist and found it in his face, but everything else, the whys of it--

Those are all off the record. Forever. Or at least they would be, if Lugis wasn’t crawling through the dome like a stoat that’s caught whiff of an egg.

But that’s not what this is about. “And you want me to do that with that asshole?” Zen mutters. “Since it made Mitsuhide such good friends with Lugis, after all.”

“Obi isn’t Hisame,” Kiki informs him with the kind of steel in her tone that suggests she won’t be taking critique on that particular assessment. “All your issues with him are external.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snaps, teeth gritting down.

It’s a mistake, a rookie one at that: never ask a Seiran a question you don’t want the answer to. “He’s got Shirayuki’s attention and you don’t.”

Mitsuhide clears his throat, shoulders set like Zen better plan to shelter in place. This particular storm isn’t about to hit its usual conversational breakwall. “Attention you’d have, if you hadn’t skipped out on your session.”

Zen grips the table to take that hit. But it’s not nearly the last; the stare Kiki turns to him is wide-eyed, half-betrayed. “You didn’t say anything about that.”

“It’s none of your business.” Even as the words fly from him, he knows it’s not fair, that he’s spitting nails into the wind so that they’ll hurt someone else instead of him. It doesn’t stop him, it never does, but a guilty knot settles in his gut. “The sessions are voluntary. They always have been. I don’t need--”

“Someone to keep your head on straight?” Every syllable snaps like ice, her eyes twice as cold. “That was the whole point, wasn’t it? So if something happens to us, you’d have--”

He can’t listen to this, not another word. “That was never the plan! I would never plan for you guys...”

Not coming back. For Redwood Dancer to be left a ruin on the sea floor, their bodies strapped in, hermetically sealed until the ocean wore the jaeger down to parts.

“Nothing is happening to you guys,” he grits out. “Shirayuki was always an addition, not a-- a replacement, because you’ll never--”

“No one can promise that.” Mitsuhide’s never one to throw a first punch, but oh, does he know how to end a fight. All the breath’s knocked clean out of him, and there’s Dancer’s right hand, shoveling down another bite of rice like it’s nothing. “Every time we go out there it’s a flip of a coin. It doesn’t matter how good we are, one day there’s going to be a kaiju that kicks us clean off our feet.”

He shakes his head, wishing the words would fall right out of them. “No. That’s not--”

“Zen.” He’s never heard a siren’s call, but it can’t be as inexorable as Mitsuhide saying his name in that tone, both firm and pitying and mournful all at once. “You know better than anyone. Rangers don’t grow old.”

There’s no thought when he levers himself up from the table, just up with away chasing its heels. He just can’t be here listening to this, not now, not after they just barely crawled home from another kaiju clawing its way across Korea’s shoreline. Not when he knows he should be fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with them-- that he would be if they stopped trying to saddle him with every rookie that rolled out of the simulator and finally put him with the only person that could fill that brace beside him.

“Zen!”

It’s easy to ignore Mitsuhide’s shout over the dinner rush; it’s just part of the noise, a buzz at the edge of his senses. Something to goad him, to push him out of there before either of them think to follow after. Their pity’s the last thing he needs, the last thing he wants. After all, it’s not him that won’t climb in the Conn-Pod, but his--

“Boss!”

Zen blinks, the empty corridor resolving around him. He’d let his feet carry him, their only imperative away-- and now he’s all turned around, every bulkhead the same. He’s heard about this happening to rangers when they lived in the dome too long; chasing the Minotaur, a ranger called it, three drinks down at the local hangar. And no fine little princess to give you string to find your way out.

Except he did have one of those. A person to help him through the labyrinth, even if she couldn’t show him the way. He’d been avoiding her.

That seems stupid now. It’s not like she’s on that asshole’s--

“Hey! Hey, boss.”

Speak of the devil. Zen turns, and there he is, too-tight t-shirt and all: his own personal problem. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” He holds out his hands, as if that’s proof enough to clear him of ulterior motives. “I just...saw you head out and it looked like...”

Zen’s shoulders square, body braced like they’re back on the mat. “Looked like what?”

Obi’s breath rushes out of him. “It looked like you shouldn’t be alone.”

It’s not until he lifts his hand that he realizes it’s trembling, barely able to push his bangs back where he needs them. “Yeah? And you thought-- what? I’d want to see you?” Even to his own ears, his laugh is bitter, wrong, like it came from someone else’s mouth. “You, the guy who won’t get out of my way?”

Something ripples across this asshole’s face, too fast for him to catch more than its wake. “You think I’m the stick stuck in the mud here?” When those strange cat’s eyes stare at him, it’s out of placid waters, but that grin on his face-- it doesn’t reach them. “Rock, meet hard place.”

Zen’s hands clench, so hard his knuckles creak. “You think this is a joke? You’re trying to shove your ass in a seat that isn’t for you, and you--”

“You think I want to be out there?” He lets out a bark somewhere between pitying and derisive, arms folding over his chest. Zen takes special care not to check how stressed his seams are. “I did my time, Your Highness. I got out. I got told no one would ever look for me again.”

“Then why are you here?” Zen spits. “No one wants you.”

“You don’t know how true I wish that was.” A hand pulls at his shoulder, long fingers digging in around the blade. “But your brother dragged me down the coast because I’m not done. I’ll never be done, because I can’t sit on the sidelines and watch Snotju or Head Banger or whatever cosmic asshole crawls out of the rift wreck another wall.”

His hand lifts, scrubbing through the bristle of his hair, just a shade too shaggy to be regulation. “It’s fucked up, isn’t it, Master? I’m the one who doesn’t want to be here, but I’m the one who’s got the balls to get back in that jaeger. And you--” a cold gaze rakes over him-- “you’re content to sit there and watch the world burn just because I’m not--”

“Shut up.” He’s trembling, every muscle straining against his self-control. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t know a goddamn thing--”

“I’ve been in your head,” that asshole reminds him. “I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“You don’t.” He can’t. “You don’t fucking know a thing about me.”

He cocks a hip, grin loaded like a bullet. “The prove it.”

Kiki’s right: in the instant where his knuckles hit that cut-glass cheekbone, Zen feels great.

Shirayuki’s office has always put him at ease; he stepped in here the first time before she’d even properly covered the walls, the tension seeping right out of him into the push carpet under his boots. There’s just something about how she fills a space-- something that has nothing to do with furniture or wall hangings or motivational posters-- that makes his brain put out whatever chemical that means safe. He’d never understood why the other rangers avoided her, not when they could have forty minutes in the room equivalent of a warm hug.

But it’s different this time.

“Izana made you call me here.” He’s ramrod straight on her worn couch, hands clenched in his lap. Or rather, right over the throw pillow he moved to sit. “Didn’t he?”

“The Marshal’s personal feelings have nothing to do with this.” Her words snap like a window on a sill, closing on that topic with a sense of finality he expected from the top brass, not their therapist. “The PPDC’s code of conduct is quite clear on the procedure to be followed after a non-sanctioned physical altercation between personnel.”

There’s a loose thread right by the fringe; he’d noticed it months ago, but never dared to tug it. Every time he’d felt the urge, he’d think of dominoes and load-bearing pillars, of the whole edge unraveling in his hands right as she looked at him.

Today, he pulls. It comes right off with a snap. “And that’s the only reason you brought me in?“

Shirayuki turns to him, one incredulous brow raised. “You were the one who cancelled our last session--” her mouth twitches as she twists the knife-- “last minute.”

Well, he deserves that one. Sure, he’s had his reasons, but Shirayuki-- well, she deserved more than one step up from ghosting. If the thought of having to look anyone in the eye after all that hadn’t made his stomach turn for three days, maybe he would have come to that conclusion before Kiki ripped him a new one over it.

“Sorry about that,” he mutters, aware with every word that it’s not enough, that there’s not enough apologies to patch up the trust he broke. “I wasn’t...ready to talk.”

He expects the clap back; yeah I got the message, or but you were ready to take a swing? But he should have known: that’s not how Shirayuki works. She’s a professional, whether that’s what he wants from her or not.

Instead he face softens, right back into his friend. “I know. What happened in the drift can be...intense.” She hesitates, teeth sinking into the plush bow of her lip. “I just wish that you had felt comfortable conveying that to me. As my patient, you’re supposed to be able to control--”

“I don’t want to be your patient.”

Her mouth closes with a grunt, hand pressed to her stomach as if he hit her. “O-oh,” she murmurs, breathless. “I hadn’t realized that you, ah, wanted to terminate our sessions--”

“No!” God, it would be nice to be able to say this all smooth like he’s sure that jacked asshole can, leaning against a wall with his hand right by her head, sexual tension rocking the Richter scale. “I just meant--” his teeth try to grind down his thoughts into something palatable-- “Shirayuki, I don’t want to just be your patient.”

He could fall into her eyes they’re so wide, rounded ‘o’s that match her mouth’s geometry. “Ah, Zen, that’s...”

“I don’t mean because I-I like you.” Even though he does, but there’s rules for that. The kind the PPDC will look the other way on, but not Shirayuki. She’s not from under the dome; she still worries about what people might think outside of it. “I just...wish you were on my side.”

“I am on your side.” Her shoulders pull straight against the back of her chair, her soft look hardening into resolve. “Which is different from telling you want you want to hear.”

He jerks back, cheeks stinging like he’d been slapped. “I didn’t say I wanted that,” he mumbles, hands clenching over his lap. “But I don’t need you to tell me to do whatever it is Izana wants me to either.”

“I wasn’t going to.” The notebooks in her lap closes with a snap, and with trembling fingers, she sets aside her shield. “Izana wants you back in a jeager for the legacy. For the unbroken line of Wisterias standing between humanity and the rift. But I...”

Her eyes lift to his, and they’re no longer the lush, leafy green of a forest, but the hard glint of emerald. “If you get back in that cockpit, you need to do it for yourself.”

It’s an effort not to say, I don’t see the difference.

“I saw you when the siren went off.”

Zen scrubs a hand over his face; he remembers. Their eyes had met over that seething mass of fear and competence, and-- and he’d been so sure that if he saw her, something more than that glimpse of red in the corner of his vision, he’d forget every inch of his resolve and go to her. That he’d just take her in his arms and tell her all the thoughts roiling in the sea of his mind, but--

But he hadn’t. He’s taken one look at her and, without even a pang of guilt, left her there. A real hero.

“Zen.” She says his name so firmly, so seriously, that his head jerks up, gaze tangling with hers. “You don’t want to be on the sidelines. You don’t want to be the general hiding being his troops. You want to be out there, Rex Tyrannis shoulder-to-shoulder with Redwood Dancer. And you could be.”

It’s his breath that’s rasping, the death rattle of the man he’s let himself be these past few years. “How?”

There’s not an ounce of hesitation in her when she says. “You have to choose to move forward.”

And cozy up in the cockpit with that asshole. He thinks about that grin, cocked with a confidence he’s never been in the neighborhood of having, and...

It’s so familiar that his double vision makes his head pound. “I can’t work with that-- Obi. I won’t.”

“I know that...” Her lips press together, bursting apart with a pop. “I know there’s no limit to the amount of people a ranger could potentially drift with, but there’s something...special when you find the right one. That there’s something right about it than can’t ever be replaced.”

He stares, head galloping in his chest. She shouldn’t know that-- there’s no way she could. Most rookies out of the academy just drift successfully once, and that’s it-- that’s their partner, for better or worse, like marrying the first kid you kiss. There’s exceptions-- emergencies, injury, irreconcilable differences-- but even though this job has a high turnover...rangers rarely die alone. There’s not enough people for a paper.

“Yeah, I’ve...heard that too.” Probably from the same mouth she did, though it seems Mitsuhide’s polished the speech since he last gave it. To him, at least.

“I understand that you have a vision of who you want beside you in the pod,” Shirayuki presses, voice growing tighter, more tense with every word. “But Atri’s gone.”

Every drop of blood in him turns to ice. “Atri?”

Her breath hisses out through her teeth, relief slumping her shoulders. “I know no one can be him, but--”

“You think this is about Atri?” A giggle bubbles up from him, bitter on his tongue. “I’ve been sitting here for weeks-- no, months! And you think all this, the whole reason I won’t climb in a jaeger with just anyone off the street is because of Atri?”

Every corner of her face lost. “Isn’t it?”

“No, I...” He pinches the bridge of his nose, like it might stem the pounding of his heart behind his brow. This whole time he’d been so careful, trying to be understood for once, to let someone see him instead of his mistakes--

But he should have known; as long as his brother is obsessed with sending him an endless parade of nobodies which he sits behind a desk, it’ll only be his hang ups hung out for everyone to rifle through.

“I should go,” he finally manages, levering himself to his feet. The room spins, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears, but he can’t stay here, not when she thinks-- when she’s always thought--

“Zen,” she murmurs, voice muffled by distance. “Are you all right?”

--That he’s pathetic. “Yeah.” He stumbles to the door, swinging it open. “I just need to--”

And of course, standing right there is that asshole, hand half-raised to knock.

“Boss,” he breathes, clearly stunned. “I, uh, didn’t think you’d be...”

The awkwardness in the office is palpable, so thick that he might as well be moving through molasses. Before this guy showed up, he’d though he had half a chance; he was practically the only one outside of K-Science that would even look at her, and his sessions always felt like more, but now--

Well, it’s no wonder he didn’t stand half a chance next to him, if she thought he was waiting for Atri.

“Don’t worry about it.” Zen pushes back him, shoulder clipping his. Or at least near enough to claim the feat. “I’d hate to keep you two from your--” date-- “dinner plans.”

Shirayuki’s breath gasps from her. “Zen, wait, we’re not--”

“It’s fine,” he lies, every muscle tense where he stands, fighting the urge to look back. “A couple of things are clearer now.”

It’s not just her. They all think he’s waiting for him, that one day he might stroll back in here like nothing happened, and Zen--

“Please.” Shirayuki’s voice trembles, and even if he’s not looking, he knows she’s at the door, vibrating in its frame. “Let’s just finish the session.”

-- and Zen’s been giving them nothing else to work with. All these years, looking like a kid stood up on prom night.

“No, I just remembered there’s something I’ve got to do.” He forces a smile on his face, giving her a bare hint of it as he peeks over his shoulder. “I’ll see you next week.”

It kills him how much hope lights in her eyes. “Next week?”

“That our appointment, isn’t it?” he says, light tone limping. “Unless I see you around the dome before then.”

“Right,” she breathes, cheeks flushed at both corners of her smile. Obi’s watching her, concern writ large in his eyes, and well-- maybe he’s not as much of an asshole as Zen wanted to believe. “Until then.”

He gets halfway down the hall, before Obi calls out, “Hey, boss...”

It’s clear when he looks back that Obi hadn’t meant to speak, but now that he has, he clear his throat, giving himself a visible shake.

“You could come with us,” he says, hesitant. “If you wanted.”

It’s an olive branch, one he doesn’t deserve. One he should take, if he wants all this to heal over without a scar. But he’s not ready for that, not yet.

“No.” He shakes head. “I wasn’t joking about having something I got to do. Go enjoy yourselves.”

This is a terrible idea.

He knows it the entire time he’s walking, the anxiety cresting the second he sees the plate on the door, engraved and letters painted black: IZANA WISTERIA. MARSHAL.

“Well,” Izana hums from his desk. “Are you going pace outside my office all day, or are you planning to come in?”

Zen lets out a rush of breath and pushes the door open the rest of the way.

“You win,” he says, all in a rush. “I’ll do it. I’ll give him another chance.”

“I think at this point, he’s giving you another chance,” Izana tells him, barely glancing up from his pile of papers. “But...I’ll arrange it.”

He nearly says, I figured you’d have it all arranged already, but bites it back. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure. And Zen.” His brother looks up, capping his pen calmly before he folds his hands over the desk. “It’s not me who wins. It’s humanity.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, meeting that steely gaze. “But I’m not doing it for them.”

For once, his brother doesn’t have anything to say.

It’s Obi who’s locked in first this time.

His cheeky smile is already waiting when Zen steps on deck, body gripped by Rex Tyrannis’s hydraulics when he throws him a wink. “Second time’s the charm, right Your Highness?”

“Third time,” Zen mutters, keying in his code. “It’s third time’s the charm.”

“Right, but you were top of your class.” A guy like Obi shouldn’t be so comfortable when he’s got twenty tons pinning him in place, not when he’s got a face just asking to be hit. “So we can shave one of those off, right?”

“Depends.” His mouth twitches. “Where did you rank?”

Obi’s grin grows stiff enough to float. “I think you’d say I’m a natural talent.”

“That bad huh?”

A laugh saws out of him, raw in the loud silence of the pod. “You have no idea.”

“I think I could take a guess.” The hydraulics hug Zen tight; even lifting to his arm to the panel is a chore. “Ready?”

“For you?” Obi’s mouth stretches into a leer. For once, he feels like he’s in on the joke. “Any time.”

Don’t chase the rabbit. It’s Obi’s voice that says it; not the way he had before, serious and concerned, a scolding and a reminder. No, this one is a laugh restrained, sing-song. One pill makes you big and one makes you small.

There’s a faint riff of guitar, and Zen’s about to tell him to can it, that putting trash in the drift just clogged up the flow, but--

But between one breath-- one blink and the next, he’s lost in the tide, rolling through his memories rudderless. When a hand grips his shoulder and--

“I’m ready.” Zen’s always too honest, too eager but he’s young here, younger than he ever remembers being wearing the badge. “To pick up the legacy. To be what father meant us to be.”

The memory runs true, his younger self still chatting away with Shidnote, unaware that his whole world’s about to be cut off at the knees. But he’s not watching that now, he’s watching the way shadows crawl across his brother’s face, a storm front that appears and vanishes in the moments no one looks.

“About that.” Izana settles his hand on the desk, but the drumming is no longer bored but...nervous. An asynchronous beat that runs at the speed of his thoughts. “I meant to tell you. I’m being promoted.”

“Promoted” The word still kicks his legs out from under him, still knocks the wind out of his lungs as efficiently as any punch to the gut. “But I thought we would--”

“They want me in a command capacity now that Mother’s taking over Anchorage.” Izana won’t look at him. The man who has built his career on being able to stare down Orochi in Sagami Bay can’t bear to look him in the eye. “I’m being taken off active duty.”

“But--” He looks between them. “But--”

“But--”

The memory stutters. It’s him, he’s the one who’s pushing away. He’d always thought he couldn’t give this to someone, to some guy right off the street, someone who might pity him, but it’s-- it’s him. He can’t look at this. He can’t face failure another time.

And he doesn’t know how to stop.

Hey. Obi’s voice is too close, but he’s just an outline in the drift, blues and grays fuzzing between misfiring synapses. Hey, we don’t have to watch this.

They do. They have to, if he’s going to get through this.

Right. There’s no way for Obi to sigh here, where there’s no air, but he does, long and loud. It sounds...different. Almost...feminine. I have worse. Want to see me wet the bed when I was--?

The words fuzz before they can continue. Go ahead, Obi says, sounding like himself. Take as much time as you need. It’s not like we have clocks here.

Zen can’t nod here, not without a body, but he breathes, one solid in and out--

“It’s supposed to be us.” Even with the distance of time, every word is carves straight from his flesh, laid out on a platter for his brother to see. “We’re supposed to carry on the legacy.”

“Shidnote will continue on in his current capacity,” Izana explains, bored, as if he didn’t even speak. “He’s served me well. I’m sure you’ll both be sufficiently compatible.”

“But--” Zen grits his teeth. “It’s supposed to be us. Why are you giving me an excuse--?

He blinks. He never said that. He’d been thinking it the whole way to his bunk, but in the moment it had only been a yes sir. I understand, sir.

Then why--

“It’s an excuse.” The shine’s all worn off Atri’s grin, baring the raw edge beneath. “That’s all I’ve ever been to you.”

Scrap litters the floor at his feet; he’s never known what jaeger-grade parts sold for on the black market, but he knows it’s not pocket money. This is a small fortune if someone knew where to sell it.

Which clearly Atri does.

“You’re going to blame me?” Zen’s laugh limps with bitterness. “I catch you with stolen goods, and it’s my--?”

“It’s not stolen, it’s salvage,” Atri snaps, snatching a length of steel from his hands. “It’s not like they’re using it.”

A lie-- there’s not a shred of steel or wire that’s wasted in the dome. Jaegars come with a price tag that only governments can pay, and any corner that can be safely cut on maintenance is considered savings passed onto tax payers. There’s no way he can’t know it, not after six months, but--

He doesn’t care. He never did.

“This is why you agreed to be my copilot.” Every word aches as he births them from his lips, a truth that cuts even as he speaks it. “You didn’t care about protecting your friends. You just wanted access to parts.”

Atri shrugs, the barest twitch of his shoulders. “I never said I gave a single fuck about all that hero shit. You just assumed I did, because you do.”

“But the drift...” His breath wheezes, the way it did when he was a kid, before his dad paid for all that to be fixed. “How did you...?”

“I just thought about the stuff you cared about. Friends. Kaiju. Me.” Atri’s grin turns smug. “Some of us don’t wear our heart on our sleeves, Wisteria.”

Wow. Obi’s outline fuzzes as he circles behind Atri, a single brow raised. He’s a real fucknut, huh?

His memories are jumbles, him-now and him-then all tumbled together until his first instinct is to jump to Atri’s defense. He may not be an academy-trained ranger, someone who has a lifetime worth of experience in a simulator, but put him in Rex Tyrannis and he’ll--

Steal the toilet cover? Obi offers, mouth canting into that insufferable grin. The one that always reminded him of--

Ah.

Obi darts a glance to where Atri stands frozen beside him. Jeeze, you really know how to hit a guy where he lives. You think I look like this asshole?

Just the grin, really. He’s almost a head taller, broader in the shoulders, and Asian besides. Better looking too--

Obi’s smile stretches into a leer. You don’t say, bossman?

Maybe Atri’s right. He’s got to get better about what he thinks about in the drift. Especially with someone this insufferable around.

If anything, Obi’s more amused. So it’s this guy though, he’s whole hold up you have with me? It’s not--

Against his will, Atri springs to life, mouth curled into his nastiest sneer when he says “I don’t know why you’re acting so betrayed. After all, you only wanted me to get back at the Marshal, and I played my part, didn’t I? I’m sure he’d jump in the pod if that meant he could be rid of me.”

“That’s not--” true, he should say. He can’t though, not when he’s not this-Zen, when he’s just looking out from his eyes, straight into Obi’s.

“Yeah.” There’s no spit to swallow in the drift, but he does anyway, a force of habit. “It is.”

The memory fuzzes away from him, and it’s just them now, two men braced in the Conn-pod, staring at each other through their visors.

“Right hemisphere, calibrated.” Zen blinks, watching as his hand opens and closes, the robotic voice’s dulcet tones washing over him.

“I never wanted this, you know,” he murmurs, “not if it wasn’t with my brother. That’s how it was supposed to be, me and him versus the kaiju.”

“Left hemisphere, calibrated.” His arms seem to move on his own, and it’s strange how he can’t keep the smile off his face this time. It feels good, moving like this again.

“No,” he breathes. “It was supposed to be me and him versus the world.”

“Ready to activate the jeager.“

Obi’s arms lift, a fighting stance to mirror his. It’s easy, so easy. Easier than he ever thought it could be. “What changed?”

He’d shrug, if the hydraulics would let him, but this isn’t Redwood Dancer. “Seemed like a shitty reason not to save the world.”

“Calibration complete.”

Obi grins, teeth shining bright under the lights of his visor. “Doc tell you that?”

Zen laughs. “Pretty much.”

“She’s got a gift,” Obi agrees, hands moving in sync with his. “And it’s making you feel like an asshole.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Looks like you jokers are getting along,” Kiki deadpans through their helmets. “How do you feel about taking Rex out for a drag?”

“After being cramped under this dome for months, Princess?” Obi drawls, tossing him a conspiratorial wink. “It’d be my pleasure.”

“Just give us a sec!” It’s been a long time since Zen’s talked much with the crew in CIC, but he recognizes that voice-- Yuzuri, one of Shirayuki’s friends. The peppy one with the cute accessories. The one that told him she’d give him cement shoes if he made her cry. “Let’s see if we can get you off your leash.”

He’d always liked her. Hopefully the feeling’s mutual, since she’s right next to the plug.

“Hey, boss.”

Zen blinks, glancing across the cockpit. “Yeah?”

“I know Atri was supposed to be a big fuck you to His Majesty, but...” He hesitates, thoughtful. “You drifted with the Big Guy for a while after that. Why?”

“Ah--”

It’s impossible not to think of it, the siren rising in the air, the men running past them, voices drowned out by the drone.

“I’ll do it,” he says, glaring up at the man across from him. “At least you know you’re just a seat warmer.”

“Zen--”

He blinks, the memory stuttering beneath him. That’s not what Mitsuhide called him then, that wasn’t until after--

“Zen.”

That’s not inside the memory, that’s inside his helmet. “Mitsuhide?”

“You’re out of alignment.”

He shakes his head, uncomprehending. “What do you--?”

“You’re out of alignment.” He repeats, each words strained. “You both chased the rabbit, and...Obi went straight down the rabbit hole.”

It doesn’t make any sense. “But I--”

“You have to go get him,” Mitsuhide says, dire. “He’s pointing the plasma cannon at Mission Control.”

#obiyukiweek21 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #pacific rim au #my fic #ans #never did i think i'd cause so much controversy about who would end up in Rex Tyrannis #but i'm glad that this chapter was already going to cover it #and oh my what's that?#are we getting Obi backstory next chapter?#>:3c

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dearest-kibble · 4 years

Note

I like your take on yandere Zuko a lot! I wanted to ask what would he do if his darling tried to escape from him?

this is actually a part of something that is uhh,,, 9,000 words atm (and still going) so if ya’ll want the full thing, just let me know and up it’ll go.I’m so sorry this took so long, it should not have (it actually has a second part but it features me being a degenerate on main,,, so it’s going in a different spot,,, do not read it if you don’t want degeneracy)

Zuko leaves you with a candle for the night. It’s the one night you’ve been left alone in four, maybe five years. He claims it’s something about how he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself tonight. It wasn't like he hadn’t touched you before. (But he hadn’t blushed like he did earlier that night when he lit your candle.) You watch the candle flicker from across the room. You haven’t gotten too close to it. It swirls with little flickers of pink and blue against a healthy orange and is probably hot enough to burn if you get too close. You’ve been sitting since he closed your door, and your forehead hasn’t stopped tingling from where he kissed you. You hate him. You love him. But you don’t want to be here, in this room alone with fire. You’d rather be anywhere but near his fire. You’d rather be anywhere than with him. But who doesn’t want to be with the man who protects them. Who loves them. Your grip on your wrist is tight and you hadn’t even noticed that your nails had begun to dig into your palm. In your hand a warm piece of metal sits. You’ve been turning it over since Zuko told you he had a present for you. You’d been getting the same present for years and you’d accepted. The gold hairpin with red tassels taunts you from your palm.

“Tomorrow.” A suspiciously raspy voice, coated in a regal gold echoing in your two, unmarred ears. And you sat. And sat and sat. And your nails began to draw blood. And the hairpin’s tassels, though red, were stained. It clatters to the ground, leaving your palm and mind for one second before you realize that you can feel silk on your foot. Your hands dart to the arms of your chair. Move move move. And your arms sit on top of wood that was carved a decade ago. It’s awkward and uncomfortable and cold. It’s nothing familiar. But maybe that's a good thing. You’d almost forgotten what anything but Zuko feels like. Something inside you misses the heat he emits, whispers that he warms your heart. Something a little larger than yourself screams that he’s burned you. And before you continue to think your feet push yourself out of the chair, the silk tassel falling off of your foot as the hairpin slips your mind. He’s burned you, he'll do it again. Your mind argues with your body before your hands make the decision to stop gripping the red fabric that Zuko insisted you dressed in. Burgundy silk shifts as you begin to walk past the flame that flickers in purples and greens, flecks of red shifting behind a screen of glass. You pick it up, the warmth through the glass so uncomfortably familiar that you can’t help but grip it a little tighter. The candle burns a little brighter. You suck in a breath. You shakily exhale. Holding the candle makes so much more of the room visible, it’s made of metal, almost prison like. You didn’t want to be here. You remember the boiling rock story, sneak out through a blind spot and make for a war balloon. The window wasn’t hard to find with your light source, your reflection on the glass isn’t correct, something is missing. Your topknot. You can fix that (No you can’t) when you’re on a war balloon. You open your window, letting the breeze blow in. The gossamer curtains flutter at the contact as you lift a leg to put through the open window. You feel even colder exposed to the night air. The moon is new tonight, favoring invisibility for the night. Your foot touches soft grass as you straddle the open window and ungratefully almost drop your candle. Your breathing darkens for a bit before softening and looking frantically at your surroundings. The flame in your hands gets a little warmer as you slowly start to slide along the grass of what you recognize to be the gardens.

Your foot hits something small and fuzzy and your breath hitches as you hear an agitated “Quack” Your gaze shifts down as you lock eyes with the beady black eyes of a baby turtleduck. It’s mother wakes immediately, gives you one look and bites your ankle with ferocity. Once again you almost drop your guide. You bite your tongue to keep from crying out in pain. You don’t move, and you taste blood in your mouth before the mother turtleduck slowly releases it’s bill from your heel. And the candle grows a little warmer as you move away from the pond. You’d been this way before once. Through the gate, over a small bridge and up stairs that you hadn’t been allowed to climb on your own. They’re exhausting now, and you would shiver if it weren't for the flame in your hands, yellow and purple with an edge of turquoise.

You stand on a flattened platform that used to have airships tethered to its ground. Now it has what you hear Zuko call dirigibles docked at the ledge. You’re after one of the smaller balloons. The ones that are white and no longer have an insignia that was branded into the retinas of all who saw it.

Zuko looks down at you, sitting in the basket of a war balloon, he frowns as he hoists himself over the railing. You stand as he gets in and smile. An instinct that had been burned into you is telling you to touch his shoulder. So you make you way over to his side. His gaze doesn't even meet yours. A heart you forgot could beat starts to pound as you look at him.

“Are you-”

“Yeah.” It's gruff, a little crackly as he speaks. “We need to leave.”

“Okay,” And you don’t press any further. He’ll tell you when he wants and you’ll listen. You don’t have a choice. You place your palm on his back and you can feel his breath deepen.

“Fire bending comes from the breath, right?” You’d heard it once. On a day you wish was easy to forget.

“That’s what Uncle always said.” If he’d let you go, you might not be here today. But you might not be anywhere if he let you go.

“Then breathe Zuko,” You let your palm linger until Zuko turns maybe an hour after you’ve been in the sky.

“Your topknot has fallen out, let me redo it for you.” He gives you a smile. You’re glad to see it. It’s always better when he’s happy.

“Thank you.” You kneel down in the basket. You hear one more puff of flame before he bends down and runs his fingers through your hair. The almost moan you let out might’ve been intentional, and Zuko’s hands rush with a slight heat. They still in your hair for only a second before continuing to comb through.

“You sound nice like that.” It’s painfully obvious he’s trying to make it sound like an offhand comment as he gathers your hair to bring on top of your head. You give no response as he wraps a silk around your hair. His hands stay for a little longer and he drags his nails along your scalp. Another, less intentional moan falls from your lips and Zuko’s grip tightens before he immediately pulls away, and turns back to the furnace keeping the war balloon afloat.

“Thank you for putting my hair up.” you’re sure your cheeks flush a little as you look at Zuko. (You had to pinch them)

“I’ll make you a hairpin once we land.”

“Please?” It may have been a learned response from the other times he’s tried to gift you pins to put into your hair, but this one felt a little different. Zuko rubs a thumb over your cheekbone before leaning in to breathe,

“Of course my love.” His cheeks are red and his thumb contains the same heat that his hand had earlier. He pulls you taut against his chest and doesn’t let go until you feel the balloon start to sink.

You knew you’d have to get rid of your guiding flame. The one you're sure that Zuko left to ensure your safety. Ensure your incineration. The question is, how? Are you to smash it against the stone of the platform? Wouldn’t that catch the baskets on fire, or worse wouldn’t that burn you? Was that what Zuko wanted to do? Did he want to burn you? He wanted to keep you safe, that's what he always said, but he’d burned you before. He said it was an accident. But it didn’t change the fact you were burned. Fire benders will always burn when they can. Why should Zuko be any different. He loves you. If he loved you he wouldn’t have burned you. But he gives you food, he does your hair, he gives you clothes. He protects you. He yells and he burns. He ended the war.

You’re screaming before you even hear the glass break, swirls of green and yellow and blue flare to swarm your vision with color that makes you want to vomit. The smell of smoke invades your nostrils and you feel tears fall down your cheeks. Breath escapes you as you try to remember all the times you’ve been told to “Breathe.” the only voice you can conjure is a soft crackle that whispers into your ear - you hear a cacophony of sounds, somehow they only add to your distress, none of them are telling you to just “breathe” and they only scream and yell and you can’t see anything but fire- and your wrist burns and the small of your back is being held - he’s burned through your silk again. And you’re screaming all over again and you hear the words but they aren’t soft and in your ear, he’s angry. They’re loud and you can’t fucking think other than you wish he’d stop stop stop the fire. He’s carrying you down the stairs and you know exactly what room you’re going to and you know that you’re finally going to see why he was a part of this family. He’s going to burn and burn and burn and you can’t fucking breathe. He’s yelling — screaming at guards who aren’t at fault but you can’t hear anything they say, only that he’s mad and it’s your fault. He sits you down in the room, you don’t think he knows you're crying and you probably deserve whatever he’s going to do, you shouldn’t run, you shouldn’t run. He burns a chair first.

“I can’t believe that you’d try to run away!” He sounds angry, he's screaming and it’s at you and you can’t stop it. Old scrolls next.

“From me,” he spits fire from his mouth, smoke curling from his lips. “I love you! Don’t you know that? I. Love. You.” He’s looking at you and there’s a flame burning in his hand and he has nothing in his hand but fire and he’s going to burn you like his family burned him. “You’re mine.” Red-blue fire dances on his fingers as a banner starts to ignite. An angry red scar is all you can see amidst the flames.

“Please, Zuko,” Smoke billows from his mouth and tears continue to drop as you struggle to think of anything but fire. “I-I,”

“You what?” His lips curl into a sneer and you don’t know what the fuck you can do to stay alive.

“I, l-” you choke on a sob. You can’t stop crying. And suddenly a darkness that had settled into his eyes clears. He drops to his knees and extinguishes all flames. The smell of smoke is still in the air.

“I made you cry.” You can barely hear his voice. You can barely hear anything. “I made you cry.” And he sounds angry again. And you cry some more.

“I’m sorry.” He walks a little closer to you, kneels. “I’m sorry.” And you take a gasp of breath and another tear falls. “I never meant to hurt you.” He’s bowing and you can’t help but feel that you should be bowing to him.

“I’m s-sorry.” You choke it out of your throat and taste blood.

“I scared you,” His hair is touching the floor as his head tilts to look up at you. “You shouldn’t be sorry.”

“N-” you bit your lip. “No, I shouldn’t have taken your kindness and thrown it.” And he stretches out his hand.

“No, you shouldn’t have to forgive me,”

“I’ll always forgive you.” The truth tastes bitter on your tongue. “Please,” another tear forces its way out. “Please, I’ll do anything if you forgive me.” Anything so that he’ll never be angry again. Smoke clings to your mind as you nod profusely.

“I forgive you.” He looks deep into your eyes and liquid gold drips down his face. “We’ll move our ceremony to the day after tomorrow? I want it to be the happiest day of our life.” He tries to crack one of his smiles. You really love his smile.

“Y-yeah.” You nod, still crying. “I’d like that Zuko.” And you lean forward a little, positioning yourself a little closer. “Can you carry me to our room, p-please?”

“Of course.” His head gives a curt nod before he stands up slowly. A miserable laugh escapes you, as more water drains from your body. He gently reaches out his arms for you to fall into before he arranges your body to carry.

“Thank you Zuko.” And you close your eyes softly as he kisses your temple.

“I love you,” You’re too tired to think. Too tired to even catch the tightening of his fingers as he carries you. The narrowing of his eyes as you forget those words that he needs to hear from your voice. Sobs from your lips come a little more quietly as you burrow your head into his chest which rises and falls with practiced breath. The rhythm of his heartbeat — though irregular — is comforting and slowly, you start to feel yourself calm down. You pass through a gate, and then another.

“Open this door.” It’s the voice you hear when he makes you sit in on meetings, before he adds in a much more familiar tone, “Please?”

“Of course Fire Lord.” The guard sounds urgent. Who wouldn’t after hearing him yell and burn and burn and burn.

“Are you alright?” He’s still holding you, but you can feel his body sink into your shared mattress. You just press your face further into his chest. He’s heating up. “I’ll put on a pot of tea.” He begins to set you down on the bed, fluffing a pillow under your head. “Tea is best when you drink it with another. Or, so Uncle always says.” He’s trying to make you laugh, with his impression of Iroh. “Oh! He told me a tea joke recently, it was about a man named Jin who uhh. Sang?” You snort a little at that. “There was another one, about uhh.” He trails off, snapping a little spark to life under his kettle.

“You can’t remember it?” The pillow which held your head was soft, maybe made of turtleduck feathers.

“No, but believe me - I've chaid.” He lets out a small chuckle himself and you can’t help but to return it, even on impulse. The room sits, steeped in the smell of jasmine tea and woodfire. Though comfortable, something about the silence makes you uneasy.

“A turtleduck bit me tonight.” Your hands feel empty without Zuko there. “I think I kicked a baby.”

“I always used to apologize to the turtleducks when I was a kid.” You can hear his smile. “Especially if Azula threw something at them.” The ceiling has very little to smile about, but your lips curl into an unfamiliar shape, one that didn’t feel forced. You heave a sigh.

“Yeah.” You don’t want to smile.

“Yeah,” You hear the pouring of water and the clink of porcelain. A few seconds and Zuko is sitting beside you on the mattress and handing you an intricately carved cup. He waits for you to sit up before grinning at you and taking a small sip. You hold the cup, it’s much too hot to hold and you place it down on the sheets.

“Is it too hot?” His eyebrow lifts in worry. “I can cool it off for you, er uh, probably.”

“No - thank you, I think I should just go to sleep.” Before you even finish your sentence Zuko is opening his mouth. He meets your gaze for a few seconds before closing it.

“You’ve had a stressful night.” Zuko flinches slightly before taking your hand in his and picking up your cup. He places it on a bedside table before kissing your forehead. “You should sleep.” He takes a deeper drink from his cup before placing it next to yours and running a hand through your hair. Breath catches in your throat before thinning slightly. The hand running through your hair drags over your body to find your stomach, briefly lingering on your collarbone before pushing on your stomach in an attempt to make you lie down. You ignore how warm his hand has gotten and how you’re sure your sleep clothes are ruined from the unintentional burning Zuko has caused. Slowly, gently you close your eyes and ignore the lingering smell of smoke.

“Day after tomorrow,” Zuko whispers incredulously before moving off the bed, grabbing something and lying down next to you. He’s ever so gentle when he pulls you into his side. “I really love you. Please, never leave me.”

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sirowsky · 3 years

Text

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, kidnapping, torture (not the gory kind), angst, buried trauma.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: You have a woman that seriously hurt you, at your mercy, and you’re struggling with how far to take it. Meanwhile, Marcus realises he’s going to have to save you from yourself, if he can find you in time.

Chapter 43

You waited for her to wake up for almost thirty minutes, and that was after you’d taken her to the abandoned warehouse, and secured her to a solid metal post that used to connect the floor to the ceiling. You didn’t know exactly what kind of tranquilizer Tech had used, but it sure was potent. Her feet were still tied together and you’d placed her on her knees with her back to the post. Her arms were strung up above her head on either side of the post, and secured individually, to ensure she couldn’t use either hand to untie the other. Her head hung low between her shoulders and her body seemed completely limp. If not for her slow and even breathing, you’d have thought she was already dead.

***

After your phone had gone to voicemail for the third time, Marcus lost it. He’d been working on dismantling the containers, no longer needed, while he waited for Aidan to finish his task, and for you to call him. He didn’t do well with idle hands when he was worried about something, and there was so much at stake right now. Then his phone had beeped, and as he’d read the message, his blood had turned to ice. He’d immediately tried calling you back, but he was routed straight to your recorded voice declaring that you were indisposed at the moment. Desperate to believe that you wouldn’t do this, that you weren’t cruel enough to do what his mind was telling him were the only reasons you would have taken off with the believed head of the entire organisation you were trying to bring down, he tried again. The third time was just dumb, but he really was losing it. He ran back to Tech.

“I need you to track my wife, right now! Her phone, car, fucking watch – anything!”

“What? Why? What’s going on?”

“She took off with Kane, we have to find her before she does something she can’t come back from.”

“She wouldn’t do that, Marcus. She started all of this because she wants the pain and deaths to stop. She’s a good person.”

“Yes, she is. But Kane very nearly killed our baby, and as much as I hope that she’s strong enough to resist, I know that the mother in her is the most powerful part of her, and she’s gonna wanna hurt Kane. Even if she doesn’t kill her, she might still torture her, and I can’t let her do that. It would never stop haunting her, specifically because she is a good person. Please, Tech.”

“Okay, okay. Let me see what I can find.”

Marcus was beside himself with worry, and his mind was grasping at anything it could to distract itself, while there was nothing he could do but wait.

“Where are we with the operation?”

Tech answered him at the same time as he typed impossibly fast on his laptop, and various windows were popping up and disappearing on the screen.

“Only six more cities left to confirm completion. All the others have been successful.”

“I’ll check on the kid.”

He walked over to where Aidan sat on the same spot in the grass. The boy was pale and bathing in cold sweat, breathing hard and visibly trembling with the effort it had taken out of him. With so few locations left, he had been able to let go of most of the birds, but he was exhausted and still had hundreds of birds left to direct for a while yet. Marcus knew that Aidan’s fate mattered to you, and it did to him as well, so he sat down next to him, and put his arm over the kid’s shoulders. He just wanted to convey that he was there and that he cared, and Aidan seemed to feel it, because his discomfort lessened a bit.

“I found the car!”

Tech’s voice reached him from across the field, and he got up, but not before whispering ‘hang in there, kid’ to the boy. Then he sprinted back to his friend’s station.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know what the hell she did with her phone, but I can’t see it at all. I had to break into her car’s emergency alert system, and trick it into believing there’d been an accident, to get it to reveal the coordinates. It’s parked on a street on the edge of a warehouse district, but she could be in any one of a hundred different abandoned structures on that lot.”

“Just send me those coordinates, I’ll find her.”

***

When she finally did wake up, you felt oddly calm. As though something inside you relished the thought that she was about to wake up to a real-life nightmare. Somewhere deep inside, you knew that you should be disgusted with yourself for reacting like that, but your hatred towards this woman was clouding your mind, and darkening your heart. But just knowing that wasn’t enough to make you wanna stop. Her head twitched first, and then her hands, as she tried to move against her restraints. When she realised that she was unable to, she tried to lift her head, but she was still groggy, and her nerves weren’t responding normally, resulting in a clumsy few bobs of her head before she managed to draw it back to rest against the post. She was still too groggy to speak, but you saw the recognition in her eyes when they fell on you, and there was surprise in there as well, which pleased you more than it should have.

“Hi. I’d say it’s good to see you, Emily, but it just isn’t. I don’t even know what to say to you yet. I’ve been sitting here for half an hour thinking about what I wanna say… or just do, to you, and I still don’t know. But we have time. I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

“You… have no.. idea… what… you’re doing.”

“And why is that? Because you experiment on people against their will, and have no problems with being complicit to mass-murder, if not committing it yourself? Or is it because you’re the leader of a covert organisation of hundreds of agents that do all of that on your behest?”

She was regaining control of her body, and you could see the contempt in her face as it dawned on her just how much you’d already figured out.

“How?”

Her tone was demanding and arrogant, and as the façade of the benign doctor fell away, you didn’t even recognise her face anymore.

“You told me. Through my subconscious. Word of advice: if you’re gonna give people powers, having no idea what they might turn out to be, don’t show them your fucking face.”

“Those memories... were removed. The super who took them… he never fails.”

“He left behind just enough that my powers could recreate a single image for me. But that was enough.”

“Well, congratulations, you figured it out. You’ll never stop us; our organisation has grown exponentially.”

“The Society of Inferiority Complex, yeah, we know.”

“How mature…”

“An acronym that spelled SIC (sick) was just too appropriate to pass up.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you call us. Before long, you’ll be introduced into a world where everyone is just as powerful as you. You won’t be so smug then.”

You got up from the crate you’d been sitting on, and stepped right up to her so you could squat down and face her at eye-level, mere inches away from her.

“Tonight, hundreds of our operatives have kidnapped hundreds of yours, just like I did with you. We’ve been monitoring your activities for months, mapping your movements, documenting your labs and temporary offices all over the world. You never even knew how many supers live covert lives in today’s society, did you? Well, we found hundreds of them, and after hearing what you did to me, and to those children, they all volunteered to help us. Your own actions created an army of superpowered people hellbent on destroying you. Did you really think you’d be able to beat us? All you’ve done is unite us.”

“Aren’t you clever, little Rainbow. But, tell me… If you’re such a good girl – why’d you bring me out here? All alone. Where no one can hear us.”

You pulled back just a few inches, but her question only managed to wake all the anger inside you back to roaring life. If she really wanted to know the answer, you’d happily show her.

“Because you tried to kill my baby.”

You dropped all pretence, and allowed your powers to flare freely. The concrete under your feet snapped and cracked, sending long trailing crevices through the floor. Time and erosion had created flaws from underneath, that meant that large sections dropped several inches in some places, sending thunderous rumbles through the whole area. But you didn’t care. Ordinarily, your mind automatically shielded anything living, standing in your vicinity, when you flooded this dimension with the denser energy of the others that you had access to. Otherwise, you’d destroy every living cell around you by forcibly compressing them until they were crushed. And, ordinarily, that wasn’t something you wanted to be responsible for. But not this time. You merely sat there, hands clenched into fists, staring at her, seeing only those eyes that had looked at you with such fondness while you worked with her. Those eyes that had fooled you so completely. You wanted to rip them out of her head.

“Good show. But we both know you don’t have what it takes to…”

Your stillness was an illusion. You were slowly gathering an increasing amount of energy into the air around her, and as the space got more and more crowded, her whole body was slowly being crushed. She fell silent mid-sentence when she realised that your stare was in no way harmless, and a minute later, the first scream escaped her.

***

The car was unlocked when Marcus got to it. The keys were still in the ignition, and on the front passenger-seat he found a contorted piece of metal and plastic and glass that had probably been your phone. All the materials had melded together as you’d forced them to compact more than they were actually structurally able to. That was a bad sign, if he’d ever seen one. There was nothing else in or around the car that could indicate which way you’d taken your prisoner, and the odds that you’d have stayed close enough to be able to hear him if he shouted for you from there, were non-existent. Using his current, he tried to sense your energy, and was almost startled at how strong a trail he discovered. But, of course, he should’ve known that you’d use your ghost hands to move Kane, to prevent leaving marks on the ground, as well as make it easier for yourself. He started following the signature of your powers, so familiar to him by now, and it led him into the very heart of the labyrinth of old run-down buildings and factories. But when he got to a certain point, the energy suddenly quadrupled, snaking off in four different directions.

“Oh, for god’s sake, woman… Give me a chance, at least.”

A terrifyingly loud rumbling, accompanied by what very well could’ve been an earthquake, but wasn’t, came from his left, and without hesitating he ran towards it. The ground was split open and uneven and half-collapsed buildings lined the roads that he followed to get to you. But he still had to run for hundreds of yards until he reached the structure that it seemed to be coming from, based on the directions of the cracks under his feet. Realising how far you’d allowed your energy to reach, he was once again amazed at just how powerful you were, but also petrified that it might mean he was already too late. As he made his way inside the lightly trembling warehouse, he heard blood-curdling screams coming from somewhere inside, and his heart fell. But if she was screaming, she was still alive, which meant he still had time. When he got to the right place, it was like walking into a nightmare. There was no ceiling above you and no lights were working, leaving the room basking in nothing but the pale and ghostly moonlight. You’d somehow twisted the whole room so that nothing was straight anymore. Posts and beams and even the walls, were all bent or curved or twisted around themselves or something else. The ground had risen in some places, and fallen in others. It felt like he was walking into a physical representation of what your mind looked like right now. And in a way, he supposed it was. Kane was still alive, but whatever you were doing to her was painful to the extent that she was shaking uncontrollably against her restraints, pleading like a child for you to stop, in between fits of vomiting and convulsing. And you were so calm. So viciously calm it was heart-breaking to him. You just sat in front of her, one knee resting on the ground, the other under your elbow, watching her as though you were a cliff and she was the ocean, thrashing against you with all her might, but unable to move your solid frame even a single inch. If he hadn’t known how much this was actually hurting you, he might’ve found it fascinating. But he knew you so well that all he could see, was his beloved wife being destroyed.

***

“Hermosa.”

His voice came to you like a butterfly against a hurricane. Like soft whispers carried on those wings, so faint, but still able to drown out that howling wind in your ears. Your eyes automatically turned to find his, and the pain that was already overwhelming your heart, seemed to double. This wasn’t who you were, you knew that. Every fibre of your being knew that, but you’d forced them into silence with your anger. Used your pain as a shield against all those voices telling you to stop. But Marcus… seeing him look at you with that much fear… Not the fears you’d seen before, when he’d thought he was losing you, or when you were injured or being threatened, or the fear that you wouldn’t love him anymore after he walked away from you. No, this time he wasn’t afraid for you – he was afraid of you. Of just what you were capable of, how far you were willing to go, how much darkness you were willing to let into your heart to try and be free of the pain that festered in there. Your powers were draining you fast. You’d made no attempt to hold them back at all, and if you stopped now, all that exhaustion would come crashing over you, and you’d be unable to finish what you’d started. But what had you started? What was it you were hoping to achieve here? You’d wanted to hear her scream, and you had. You’d wanted to hurt her like she hurt you, and you had. But did you want her to die? Were you willing to become a murderer just so that you didn’t have to see the falseness of her face ever again? Confused, but no less angry, you forced your gaze away from your husband, and refocused on Kane, pulling even more energy out to thicken around her until one of her shoulders was pushed out of alignment with the amount of force bearing down on her. The harsh popping sound was loud enough to reach Marcus’ ears, and her resulting scream made him close the distance between you, while he started begging you to stop.

“Please… this is wrong, you know that, mi amor.”

“You know, I remember thinking that if there had just been someone there to stop my torturer, I could’ve been spared so much pain and fear. And then I found out someone was there, but she did nothing to help me. She just watched and enjoyed the show. So, why should I treat her any better? Why should she be spared that pain?”

Your energy already filled the room, and half the damned district, so when the images started appearing, they didn’t just show up around you, they flooded the whole area. Every memory you had of every moment that had hurt you, throughout your whole life. There were hundreds of them.

“The tears I’ve shed could build a lake. Tell me what I’ve done to deserve that. How could anyone do anything bad enough to deserve all of this?”

“You’ve done nothing wrong, hermosa. Life just doesn’t work like that.”

“Then I should at least get to avenge myself!”

Her other shoulder popped, and she squealed and wailed until her voice gave up and she just sobbed instead. Marcus moved even closer, just a few yards away from you now.

“You should. You should get to avenge all the terrible things that have been done to you, but you never can. All you can do, is hurt yourself instead. I know you’re forcing yourself not to feel it right now, but this hurts you. You want it to feel good, to make you feel better, but it won’t, because you’re a good person. You are a good person, hermosa. That’s why I married you, that’s why you’re carrying my child, and that’s why my daughter loves you.”

Missy. Fuck. Why’d he have to mention her?

“Please, sweetheart. Don’t make me watch you destroy yourself. I already lost one wife… I need you to let me keep you.”

His voice was so frail by the end of that sentence that you feared a mere breath might break it apart. And yet, his words held so much power. They forced their way under your skin, cooling your blood and pushing the anger out. But the pain was still just as strong. Desperate to get rid of it, to be free of everything that haunted you, you collapsed on the ground, and enormous quantities of your sparkling dust poured out of you, flooding the room in every direction, flowing unhindered through all that energy that you’d pumped into it. The images were still there, snapshots of the worst moments of your life, the one’s that caused you more pain than you could ever voice, and you wished that you could make them solid. That you could pull them out of yourself completely and leave them behind in that room. The dust pulled the images apart, turning them into three-dimensional representations of themselves, while you watched, actually seeing the magic happen for the first time. When the sculptures were finished, they solidified, just like before. A single tear escaped your left eye as you saw your very worst memories turned into some sort of bizarre museum-exhibit all around you. It rolled swiftly down your cheek, and with the way you were sitting, it should’ve hit the top of your left hand, holding you up from the ground. But it never landed. Instead, it hovered mid-air for a few seconds, before splitting into dozens of smaller drops, that each flew away to one of the sculptures. And as the drops made contact with them, the sculptures turned to stone. Transparent, and still sparkling in every colour on the spectrum, but unmistakably more solid than just the dust. Once again, your powers had tried to give you what you asked for, what you needed the most. If only the memories could’ve been trapped inside those statues as well. If only you actually could get up, walk away and leave them behind forever. Strong arms encircled you as Marcus pulled you off the ground and into his chest, and you finally gave in. Now that you allowed yourself to feel it, you were completely spent. You wanted to say something to him, but he didn’t need an explanation, he understood everything, you knew that.

“Marcus… I’m sorry…”

He just kissed your forehead and held you closer, but if he said anything, you passed out before you could hear what it was.

Author’s Note: As always, I love criticism, please don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@allmyspideys @blueeyesatnight @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog @giselatropicana @ayamenimthiriel

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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imagine-loki · 3 years

Text

Stitching The Wounds, Chapter 1

TITLE: Stitching The Wounds CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 1 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki and Kilgrave are Alphas and feel a spark with the same omega. RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: omegaverse so knotting, heats etc. And mentions of abuse.

Loki and Kilgrave were heading out for a few drinks together.

Loki was a teacher at a local University. Kilgrave a doctor, he had been working abroad for a few years but had just returned a few days ago. He was waiting to find a new job in the city.

So he was staying with Loki in the meantime, until he found something suitable. Loki had a large house anyway, so it was nice having some company. And they had been good mates since they were kids, so got along well.

‘So you still don’t have an omega yet?’ Kilgrave asked Loki as they walked down the street to the pub.

‘Not yet, no.’ Loki chuckled. ‘I haven’t seemed to have found that spark yet with anyone, even though many omega students are practically throwing themselves at me. Betas too, actually.’ He smirked.

Kilgrave chuckled. ‘Of course they are.’

‘Did you meet anyone while away?’ Loki asked.

‘I did meet a lovely omega who I thought was maybe the one, but after a couple of dates it just didn’t work out. She was too…’ Kilgrave trailed off for a moment. ‘submissive?’

Loki nodded. ‘Mm, I know what you mean. It’s no fun if they are throwing themselves at your feet all the time.’

They continued chatting on their way, when suddenly Loki got the scent of an unmated omega. She was very close. Frowning in confusion, he then felt something moving slightly in his pocket. Glancing down he saw a small hand reaching in to try and steal his wallet.

He grabbed hold of her wrist and tugged her forward, pulling the young omega over to him. She yelped and tried pulling away, but Loki kept a hold of her.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He hissed at her.

She flicked her slightly greasy hair back out of her eyes and glared up at him. ‘Let me go, you asshole!’ She hissed back at him.

Loki was slightly taken aback at an omega being so petulant towards an Alpha. Kilgrave was too, he was watching in slight amusement with his arms folded across his chest.

She was quite short, then again, most omegas were. Her face looked slightly paler than should be and her clothes were pretty baggy on her. She was wearing jeans and a large hoodie that almost engulfed her completely.

‘You’re the one who was trying to steal from me.’ Loki said and raised an eyebrow at her.

‘Doesn’t mean you can manhandle me like this!’ She snarled and tried pulling away again.

Loki let go of her wrist, but he pushed her shoulder back until he had her backed up to the wall. He slammed his hand against the wall at the side of her head. She went to leave from the other side but Kilgrave moved in and put his hand to the wall too, blocking her in.

‘What the heck? Let me go, you pervs!’ She snapped.

‘Why would a pretty little thing like you be pickpocketing Alphas?’ Kilgrave asked.

She folded her arms across her chest and looked away from them.

Loki reached out towards her face, but she flinched and closed her eyes. That confused Loki, but he still took hold of her chin and turned her head back to face them.

‘You’ve been struck before.’ He commented.

The omega looked a little uncertain at first, but then the same hard look crossed her face again as Loki kept hold of her chin.

‘Look, can you guys just let me go? I tried to steal from you, but you caught me. If you aren’t going to call the cops, just let me go.’ She huffed.

‘You never answered our question, why you are pickpocketing in the first place. I know you don’t have an Alpha, I can smell you’re unmated. But I don’t even smell your Alpha parent on you.’ Loki said as his nostrils flared slightly when he sniffed at her properly.

‘Because I was kicked out from my parents’ home.’ She shrugged. ‘Not that it’s any of your business. Just, leave me alone!’

Loki released her chin, but neither of the Alphas moved to let her leave. But then they heard her stomach rumbling quite loudly.

‘Are you hungry? Is that why you’re stealing?’ Kilgrave asked.

She didn’t answer, just looked down to the ground and shuffled her feet in annoyance.

Loki and Kilgrave were smart enough to know there was more to her than met the eye. It was very unusual for an omega to not be living with her parents until she found an Alpha. Omegas were precious and always held in high regard, to find one that had clearly been abused and was probably living rough was almost impossible nowadays… Until now.

‘You’re coming with us.’ Loki decided.

‘Like hell I am!’ She snapped.

It was also very rare that an omega would talk back at an Alpha like she was, even an Alpha that wasn’t her Alpha.

‘It’s not up for discussion, omega.’ Kilgrave growled.

Loki took hold of her right upper arm in a firm grip, but not too firm to hurt her. And she was swiftly guided down the road with the two Alphas. Her squirming and constant trying to pull away didn’t phase either of them. Kilgrave just went to the other side of her and took hold of her left arm too. Just in-case.

She was confused when the two Alphas took her into a pub. She stopped fighting against them when they got inside. Kilgrave led her over to the back. ‘Sit.’ He motioned to the booth.

The omega slid in and instead of sitting opposite her, Kilgrave sat next to her. So she wouldn’t be able to run off. Loki went to the bar, ordered some drinks and food. He returned with drinks for the three of them.

Whiskey and coke for himself and Kilgrave, just a coke for the omega. He sat opposite them in the booth and slid the drink towards her.

She looked at it like it had insulted her and didn’t make a move to take it.

‘Go on. It’s yours.’ Loki nodded to it.

‘I have no money.’ She said, her tone clipped.

‘I know. It’s on us. I’ve ordered some food for you, too.’ Loki sat back and sipped his drink, watching her intently over his glass.

The omega was still unsure of the two Alphas. But she was thirsty and hungry, so she wasn’t going to argue. She slid the drink closer to her and took a few tentative sips at first, before then enjoying it properly.

‘What’s your name?’ Kilgrave asked.

She looked at both the Alphas and had a mini battle in her mind about whether to tell them or not.

‘If you don’t tell us, we have ways to find out.’ Loki warned.

‘My name is Leona.’ She sighed.

‘Well, Leona. My name is Loki. This is Kilgrave.’ Loki motioned to his friend.

She nodded and concentrated on her drink.

‘Where do you live?’ Kilgrave asked.

Leona snorted. ‘Like I’m going to tell two strangers where I live.’

‘So you do have a home?’ Loki asked.

‘Of course I do.’ She lied.

When the waiter came with her food, her eyes almost bulged out of her head at the plateful. It had been a while since she’d eaten properly… The burger looked mouth-watering.

‘Go ahead, enjoy.’ Kilgrave said when Leona just stared at the burger and chips for a while.

When Leona started eating, she couldn’t stop. Loki and Kilgrave shared a look with one another, but they didn’t ask her anymore questions while she enjoyed her meal.

Once she was finished, she felt nervous and wanted to leave.

‘Uh… Thanks for the meal. I don’t really get why you both wanted to do this for me.’ She shrugged. ‘But thanks.’

‘We’re Alphas, not nasty villains.’ Loki chuckled.

‘Well… thanks anyway.’ She said quietly. ‘Now… I really, really need to go.’

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ Kilgrave asked.

‘Yep, just peachy.’ She put on a big smile.

Loki and Kilgrave knew they couldn’t keep her trapped with them if she didn’t want to be there. So Kilgrave got up to let her out of the booth. She thanked them again and headed out of the pub quickly.

‘That was… different.’ Kilgrave said as he sat down, watching her out the pub window as she disappeared into the crowd.

The Alphas both couldn’t stop thinking about her while they finished their drinks.

‘I felt a spark.’ Loki admitted.

Kilgrave looked at him with eyes wide.

‘That’s… not possible. Because I felt a spark.’

Loki looked surprised too. ‘How can we both feel a spark with the same omega?’

Kilgrave shrugged. ‘It’s not completely unheard of…’

‘I don’t like the thought of her trying to steal from people. It just takes her getting caught by the wrong person.’ Loki frowned.

‘I don’t like it either.’ Kilgrave agreed.

‘We need to find out more about her.’ Loki said determinedly as he stood up, Kilgrave did too.

The two Alphas headed to the city hall. Most Alphas and omegas needed some help finding their right match. So an expert team held weekly dating nights, to try and match Alphas with omegas until they found the right one. It was where eighty percent of Alphas and omegas found one another.

They had to wait a while to speak to someone, but eventually they were called into an office of the head who was in charge. She was a beta, called Mrs Stanton.

‘My assistant said you were looking for information of an omega called Leona…’ She started.

‘Yes. We don’t have her last name, but she seems to be living rough. I’d guess in her mid-twenties.’ Loki started.

‘Yes, yes, I know exactly who you mean. I am guessing she stole from you and you want to get hold of her to get your money back?’ Mrs Stanton sighed.

‘Uh, no. She did try to steal from me, but I caught her doing it. We bought her lunch and we wanted to find out more information about her, see if you could tell us where she lives.’ Loki said.

Mrs Stanton looked a little surprised. ‘Trust me, Mr Laufeyson. You don’t want to get involved with Leona. She’s a lost cause for an omega, better left alone.’

Loki and Kilgrave looked at each other and frowned.

‘Why is she a lost cause?’ Kilgrave asked.

Mrs Stanton clasped her hands together on top of her desk. ‘She was in an accident when she was a child, due to some complications during surgery, she can no longer have children. While she should still go into heat when she meets the right Alpha, she can not have any children. Which goes against everything an omega stands for.’

Loki and Kilgrave felt sad for her. But it didn’t change their first thoughts on her, they still wanted to find her.

‘We would still like to find her.’ Kilgrave said determinedly.

‘That’s not all… A few Alphas who don’t mind about the child issue, have tried to bond with her. But she’s… difficult.’

‘Difficult? In what way?’ Loki asked.

‘She’s a brat. There is no other way to put it. She’s childish, immature, disobedient. Alphas have tried to break her, but she’s too stubborn. One tried physically beating her into submission, out of fear. Even that hasn’t worked.’ Mrs Stanton said as if it was normal.

‘No wonder, how would you like to be beaten by someone who is supposed to look after you and guide you?’ Kilgrave snapped. Stunning Mrs Stanton slightly.

‘I’m just saying, many Alphas have tried and failed…’ She trailed off with a sigh, unsure what else to say. But then a thought crossed her mind. ‘But if you two are both looking to find her, perhaps two Alphas might be able to control her.’

‘We are not going to beat an omega into submission. A firm hand may be needed, but not violence. Dominance isn’t about scaring someone into doing what you want. She’s clearly been struck across the face, the Alpha that did that to her should be marked up.’ Loki said angrily.

There was a register for abusive Alphas and betas. It was to try and protect the omegas. Hitting an omega on the face was one of the worst things that an Alpha, or beta, could do. Along with mental abuse.

Loki and Kilgrave stood up and Kilgrave slammed his hands onto the desk as he loomed over it.

‘Just give us her address so we can find her.’ Kilgrave snapped.

Mrs Stanton quickly printed off a bit of paper of her last address and handed it over to them. ‘It’s clear you both must have felt a spark with her. I will just say this… it may take both of you to control her. From what other Alphas have told us, she enjoys being challenged and seems to be seeking a dominant Alpha. Perhaps if you can break through her bratty shell, there may be a good omega under there.’

Loki took the paper from her. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a bratty omega who doesn’t submit easily. They all have different personalities, there’s no point trying to change them. It’s just about if they’re a good match for you or not. And getting some form of control, but not through fear or abuse.’

Mrs Stanton didn’t say much else, apart from telling them good luck as they headed out of her office.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #Stitching The Wounds #Chapter 1 #fanfichiddles

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olsone13 · 3 years

Text

I Wrote it in Your Shower

A bouquet of flowers and some Italian food inspire a song

A/N: lol okay so i was oddly inspired while working this evening and this is what happened. Please be kind and any feedback is greatly appreciated!!! I also didn’t edit this very much after the initial writing of it...

TW: None really, sexual behavior implied but very, very lightly.

The library was quiet. And that’s the way I liked it, just me and the books and my music. They had lives of their own that lived in the people that borrowed them and lost themselves between their pages. The books came back to me, always a little different than when they left me. I was on my break, reading the latest novel I had become absorbed into in the old leather chair by the window in the back corner of the library. It had the best natural light and no one seemed to bother me when I was back here, even though it was the best spot in the library. As the music flooded my ears and my eyes skimmed the pages, I saw a pair of scuffed boots standing a little too close to my chair to be an accident. Pulling an earbud out I asked the individual belonging to the boots what he needed.

“If you really need help, I can take care of it but I’m on break and Catherine at the front desk would be more than happy to help.”

“Oh, um, actually I was wondering if I could just sit and join you. I need a moment,” he said with a sigh. He looked familiar but I couldn’t place where I knew him from.

“Uh sure, it’s my favorite spot in the library and I’m in a good mood so have a seat,” I said as I shuffled myself and my sprawled lunch away from the other leather chair.

“The name’s Harry. And thank you for sharing your spot.” A soft smile reached his eyes as he looked back up at me. It was the I realized who he was and that he was singing to me in my headphones right now.

“Y/N. And of course, anything for you Harry” I said as I turned my phone screen towards him, to show that he was in fact the person I had in my headphones at the moment.

“I won’t tell anyone your secret, that you’re here, if you don’t tell anyone about my favorite spot” I winked at him when he quickly realized I knew he exactly who he was.

“Deal,” he smiled back at me again, relief replacing the worry that had quickly appeared.

I finished my food and the remainder of the chapter I had started, all while Harry’s eyes never really left my space. He would occasionally check his phone but it felt like I was an animal being observed in a zoo. I started to gather my garbage and the book to check out since it had hooked me by chapter 1, asking Harry if he was staying any longer.

“I’ll be a bit longer I think. I like this space y’know? When are you done with work, I owe you a coffee or a drink or something for saving m’skin back there” He said as he shifted in his chair.

“I’m done around 3, so like an hour and a half, I know a cute cafe down the block and we can walk since it’s still nice out.” I quickly pushed myself out of the chair, walked to the front counter and tossed my garbage. The rest of my time passed quickly and I seemed to find every chance to visit the back corner to put away books or to just peek my head around the corner and catch his eye.

I clocked out and put my name tag on my desk so I wouldn’t forget it tomorrow. I threw my tote bag with my laptop and other work materials over my shoulder and picked up my purse. I went to go grab Harry, only to find him waiting for me outside the library specialists office.

“A specialist huh?” He asked me as we walked toward the staff parking lot.

“Uh yeah! I have always loved research and books and so I found a home here and I do some side projects with local colleges to assist on research materials and stuff.” I said as I unlocked my car door and threw my work bag and cardigan into the back seat. I was left in the sleeveless dress and loafers I had thrown on this morning.

“The cafe is just down the street a little if you’re okay with walking, otherwise I can drive us.”

“I think it’ll be nice to walk, just uh show me the way.” I started off down the path that cut through the park and towards the main part of old downtown. As we approached the café, I finished my story about how I had ended up in town. Harry opened the door for me and I walked up to the counter ordering a large caramel iced coffee, my drink of choice since I was 16 and needed an excessive amount of sugar to down the bitter drink. Harry stepped up and placed his order as well, grabbed both of our drinks and then picked out a small table in the back corner of the café.

“Wow a big ‘back-corner’ kinda guy huh?” I chuckled as I sat and grabbed my drink from him.

“S’habit.” He shrugged as he took a sip of his drink.

2 hours later and we were finally stepping out into the darkening main street. We walked back to my car and I looked at Harry again, asking where he was staying.

“Oh uh don’t worry bout me, I’ll find a ride” he said as he kicked a rock across the parking lot.

“Let me drive you there so you don’t get picked up by some weirdo, please?”

“A’right” he nodded like he was pressuring himself that this was the best decision, and got into the passenger seat.

After pulling into the hotel parking lot, Harry and I looked at each other for a moment before he said, barely above a whisper,

“Thank you for the normal day today” and getting out of the car. I waved back to him as I drove away and watched him disappear into the hotel doors. Cursing myself for not asking him to stay longer or at least get some way to contact him, I drove back to my apartment. I laid in bed and distractedly read my book. After reading the same page over and over again, I gave up and turned off the bedside lamp.

Morning came entirely too fast, and my dream of kissing Harry was cut short. I shook the sleep from my head and hopped in the shower before getting dressed for another day among the books.

“There’s something on your desk, came in as soon as I opened the doors this morning dear,” Catherine told me as I walked into the library.

“Thanks!” I called back as I entered the shared office space. When I looked at my desk, my jaw dropped, a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers was sitting on my desk. I pulled the card out as I set my bags on my desk chair.

“To being normal and back-corners. Call Me - H”

Harry Styles had just sent me flowers AND he wanted me to call him? I thought to myself, as I got my desk set up for the days work. I wold be doing more research than front desk work today, which meant more time to stress over whether or not I was actually going to be calling him. By the time lunch rolled around, I had dialed his number 6 times but never actually called. Yes I was a grown woman, reduced to jello by one celebrity crush, but who wouldn’t be? I dialed the number and held my breath, praying for the voicemail.

“Mornin’ was waitin’ for you t’call me.” I could hear the smirk as I stammered out a hello.

“Well, I uh, you know was busy. I’m a professional you know?” I said as I walked into the staff room to grab my lunch, which was a sandwich again. I sat down on the plastic chair and Harry asked me about my day and what had happened so far.

“Oh you know, the usual. I walked in to a giant bouquet of flowers and then trying to focus on very important research but focusing on the wrong… erhm… subject” I said through bites of food.

“The wrong subject huh? Why don’t you tell me all about this wrong subject at dinner tonight? 7pm work for you?” He asked.

“Bold of you to assume I have no plans, but yeah 7pm should be great.” I said with a little smile, knowing he was grinning from ear to ear by the way he sounded on the phone.

“Text me your address and I’ll pick you up. My turn to drive, love” He said as he hung up the phone. Did I really just get asked on a date? Tonight? What was I supposed to wear?

I smoothed the black dress down and picked up my purse. It was simple, but it was flattering and we were just going for some Italian food at the bistro by the river. Harry pulled up in front of my building and I walked over to the car. I slid into the front seat and looked over at Harry who was wearing a floral shirt, flared cords and some boots.

“Well you clean up nicely, although the flared pants are a dead give-away” I said as he started to pull away.

“What are you talking about?” He looked confused as I chuckled to myself.

“Well clearly people know you’re here, otherwise you would not have been hiding in my library yesterday. Those pants are a dead giveaway that it’s you, they’re nice though. I like them.” I finished with a shrug. He just looked at me and shook his head not saying anything.

We enjoyed dinner, wine and sharing stories about out lives, mine seemingly more boring than his. The drive back to my apartment felt too short and I didn’t want the night to end, so I took a chance.

“If you… want to… you can, uh come up to my apartment. Nothinghastohappenthoughifyoufon’twantitto” I rushed through at the end. I could feel my cheeks darken, the wine from earlier also contributing the their rosy shade.

“I would love to.” Harry parked the car and followed my into my apartment. As soon as I opened the door, I kicked my heels off and let out a sigh of relief. I walked into the kitchen and took down two glasses to pour us some more wine. Harry wandered around my small one-bedroom and looked at the pictures and books that littered every conceivable surface. I handed him his glass, and his hand lingered on mine for a moment before he plopped down on the couch.

“Well, s’alright if I end up staying here? Don’t feel like driving anymore and I sense that bottle won’t last long” He said as he took a sip of his wine.

“Yeah, I’ll grab you some clothes if you want to sleep in uh not corduroy pants and some blankets and stuff” I said with a giggle, the wine from the restaurant hitting me as well as the half glass I just gulped down. I grabbed some big shorts that I kept for god knows why and an extra large shirt that I usually used as a smock for house projects as well as a blanket and pillow from my bedroom.

“More wine?” I asked after I set everything down on the floor besides the couch. He followed me into the kitchen nodding his head to indicate another glass wouldn’t hurt anything. Before I could even think about it, Harry’s lips crashed into mine. The kiss was warm and smooth and tasted like pasta with the wine he had just finished. Wine and extra bedding forgotten, we didn’t sleep much that night.

I woke up to Harry singing in the shower, something about sunflowers if I heard him correctly. I rolled over and threw on an old t-shirt from the floor and made breakfast.

I was in the library when I heard the song for the first time. Harry’s new album had come out recently and I had finally had time to listen to the whole thing while I was working on putting loaned books back in their place. It was the song from the shower, but it was on his album. Did he write a whole song about that night? I felt my heart rate pick up. Harry and I hadn’t talked much since that night and hardly at all while he was writing the album. I pulled out my phone and hopped he still had my phone number.

“I listened to the album, it’s so good H. I think my favorite was the one about kissing in the kitchen lol” I sent the message before I could overthink it anymore. My phone buzzed again a couple minutes later and I smiled as I saw who it was from.

“Well I would hope so, wrote the bloody thing in your shower after all.”

#harry styles #harry #styles #fine line #harry x reader #fluff #harry imagine #harry styles imagine #sunflower vol. 6

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too-scared-to-do-this · 3 years

Text

Prestige

Chapter four -Tiny crumbs of imperfection

Sanders side fanfiction

Idea by: @hestianerd1

Wordcount: 2133

Pairings: prinxiety

TW: !!! It’s not so well written (and I’m not sure how accurate it is), but there is a pretty big part about verbal abuse and a car accident so if that is something you can’t read skip to the part where the slanted text stops !!! Besides that there is a full on panic attack scene, a long rant about dyslexia and it’s annoyingness, cursing and just some light teasing. If I’ve missed any, don’t hesitate to let me know!

The summery of the whole story: Prestige. Such a simple construct. All you have to do is act the way you want people to perceive you, keep up the image, wear a big proud smile and never ever dare make a mistake. That’s why Weltingston Heights University is such a well known school. Everybody knows that anyone who got in must have some prestige tied to their name. Educational records, family history, or even literal fame. So why not treat students the same way? Because what’s a little more pressure on their young and strong bones?

But prestige and image are precious things. You slip up even the tiniest bit, step out of the line you drew for yourself and it’s all gone. So now that the pressure is on, and everyone already knows their place in this small circle of society, only one question remains. How far are they willing to go to keep the false image up?

(Or: Very over-dramatically with a noticeable amount of sarcastic undertone: "Oh my god! They were roommates!")

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Chapter four - Tiny crumbs of imperfection

“You fucking useless piece of shit! I’ve told you hundreds of times to-“

“Virgil. Headphones.” Raimond ordered. His voice meant nothing but business - cold and determined. No room for discussion. Virgil knew better then to oppose his big brother. He reached for his backpack sitting next to him on the back seat.

“Why should he? A fuck-p like him would just benefit from this. You see Virgil, if you don’t want to end up weak and completely useless, like you brother here, you should listen. Or maybe you-“

“Now.” and this time there was an urgency to his brother’s voice. Pushing out all the acidy sweetness of Richards’s words. Virgil’s finger’s shook as he pulled the headphones out of the bag quickly.

“Playing big rother now, are we?” Richard scoffed. “Where were you when your father ran? How fucked-up of a family do you have to be to drive that man away.”

Virgil heard that. Even through his headphones, he heard it. Richard’s voice wasn’t exactly easy to toon out. Low and loud, bouncing of every wall and surface, making the hair on you back stand.

Virgil Hated his step-father. More then anything. And judging by the white-knuckled grip Rai had on the steering wheel, he did too.

No matter how ‘nice’ this man pretended to be when sober. A drunk Richard was a disgusting, unbearable, suffocating man.

Virgil put his music louder. Blasting whatever was on his phone at the moment at full volume. Maybe that would drown this out. Maybe that would stop Richard from saying all these things to him and his brother…

But no… Richard’s mouth was still moving, words still spilling out into the tight air in the car. Suffocating everybody.

In the rearview mirror, Virgil could see the tight squeeze of Rai’s lips. The way his jaw was set. The way he was just seconds ago from bursting.

But they both new better. They both knew that wouldn’t help.

So, Rai’s nostrils flared. Chest expanding with a deep breath. And then those tightlipped three calm words left his mouth. Virgil didn’t need to hear them to know what they were. It was a well-rehearsed script by now. “You are drunk.”

“No shit, sherlock! At least that’s better than whatever you’re fucking doing with your meaningless pitiful life.” would usually come next. Rai would just swallow, keep his head high. Then glance and Virgil and take them both out for ice-cream or the park. Rai loved the park.

But this time… This time something went wrong…

There was a different look on his stepfather’s face. Not the usual furrowed-browed, sneering ‘I’m so done with this bullshit’ kind of face.

No. This time was different. This time it was pure hate and disgust. And suddenly, his lips were moving. And his hand was moving. And through all the music and movement, Virgil heard it. His shout. “You ungrateful moron!”

And Richard’s hand was on the steering-wheel. And Raimonds eyes went wide with panic. For the first time in his life, Virgil saw his brother completely terrified.

His glassed blue eyes immediately shot to the rearview mirror, searching for his little brother. Trying to tell him to hold on, but no words found their way out in time…

That pull of the car. That loud noise. And then it was dark.

“Hhhhh!!!!” Virgil shot up in bed gasping for air.

He couldn’t breathe! He couldn’t fucking breathe! He couldn’t-

“Virgil?” there was a voice somewhere in the distance. From behind thick glass.

He needed to take a breath! Come on Virgil, breathe!

“Hey… Virgil…” this time Virgil heard it. Still from behind that glass, but it was there. the voice. A hand on his shaking shoulder.

He was shaking?

“Listen to me okay?”

And he tried. He really did. But the thick glass was getting thicker by the moment, voice lost with it.

The touch getting lighter and lighter until he could barely feel of that hand on his shoulder.

Until all he could hear were his thorn up breaths and suffering lungs. His heart in his ear, blood rushing.

Until all that was in front of his eyes were those big blue eyes. Panicked.

All he could hear was the screeching of tired. The loud noise. Humming.

Humming. Virgil’s mind stopped spinning for a moment. Humming?

He focused on that. On that unknown melody that somehow broke throw the thick wall. Brough back the heavy hand on his shoulder.

Brough back the air that got sucked out of his lungs.

Humming.

Virgil opened his eyes, still beathing heavily. But at least breathing.

It was dark, yes. But the moon shone through the window, breaking up every sell of that overwhelming dark from before. Making it so much easier to see Roman sitting in front of him, smiling lightly. Never stopping his hum.

Even in this not-so-much-dark Virgil could see the concern and relief in his eyes. It was so obvious. Roman could literally never hide anything. It just wasn’t possible.

It was still harder to keep the air down. Even harder to move or just stop shaking. He listened to Roman hum his toon over and over again, the sound swallowing Virgil whole.

Soothing his panicked mind. Blocking out all the memories.

He uncurled slightly, letting his numb limbs rest after the tight embrace they held him in.

That’s when Romans toon stopped. And his hand pulled away. “Better?”

Virgil didn’t yet trust his voice. (And after this fiasco, he wasn’t sure he ever was going to again!) So, he just nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The tall one offered, as if this was the most normal thing two ‘mortal enemies’ (as he put it earlier) could do.

Virgil just shook his head.

“Alright then.” Ro shrugged like ‘whatever’ with a kind smile and stood up to walk back to his bed.

It was pretty late anyways. But neither of them had class in the morning, so who cares really.

And that moment - that one moment when Ro stood up and made his first step - was the moment V’s limbs decided to work again. He doesn’t even know how or when, but he was reaching out, grabbing onto his hand. “Can you… can you stay and talk for a little bit?”

And, oh my god, that look in V’s eyes! Even if Roman would have wanted to say no (which he didn’t, obviously - this man might be his mortal-enemy, but not even he deserves that much cruelty), he wouldn’t be able to. In those dark broody eyes, that always cast cold glares at him was this need, this silent plea.

And so Roman smiled this soft smile and sat back onto the bed. “Sure.”

He knew the drill by heart. This wasn’t his first rodeo. Virgil wasn’t about to force himself to talk, so this was up to Roman. Thankfully, he was the master of endless rants about pretty much nothing!

And so, it started. “I love writing so much! And acting - obviously. My dream is to be this big actor and playwright one day! You know - have my name on the script, cast on Broadway and stuff. I just kind of find it ironic, since the one thing I love I can’t really do. Not acting, obviously - I’m awesome at that!” he smirked self-assured and confident. Virgil made this sound with his nose - blew out some air as if laughter. And roman took it as a win. “I’m talking about writing. Like, literally. No matter how hard I try, grammar just won’t be my friend. I have dyslexia and that shit just sucks. Like, I don’t mind it, and sometimes it’s the funniest thing, but other times… well it gets on one’s nerves. I can’t type an email on my phone for example! Or anything important really. And yes, I know there is that thing called ‘autocorrect’ - but it just kept on correcting my words into something completely different and it annoyed me so much! So, I just shut it off. Oh, and don’t even get me started on reading! It really depends on how tired I am, but on bad days, man… That Shakespeare you helped me with the other day. I would have stayed up until literal morning just trying to figure out what even was on those pages! So yeah, thanks for that. That rehearsal went fantastically, by the way! The teacher was blown away. Do you know mister Greenwitch? He’s this kind of ‘do it my way or don’t even try!’-” Roman mimicked his voice, which made Virgil laugh slightly. “- kind of guy. And even he said it was, and I quote: ‘Acceptable’. Everybody was floored! I was floored!”

Virgil wondered how long would this rant last. (And how self-absorbed could one person be to be able to talk this long about themselves, but that was for a different day.) But he didn’t complain.

It was actually kind of surprising - hearing about this dyslexia thing. So Roman wasn’t so picture perfect after all. No super human - just regular old, grammar-fighting Roman.

That somehow lessened that reasonless resentment he was feeling towards him. Broke a crumb off of that barrier he so carefully built up to protect the people around him…

Roman was taking a deep breath ready to spew another avalanche of words at him, but V beat him to it. “What is that song you were humming?”

The man’s head cocked to the side in the most adorable way (which Virgil would never ever admit!). “An old lullaby my mother used to sing to me and my brother when we were little. It was the only thing that would calm Remus down enough to sleep.” he chuckled at the memory.

“Hmm…” Virgil hummed in understanding. There was this little pause - Roman lost in his head and Virgil watching him, just as much thoughtful. And then the thought slipped out. “How did you know what to do?”

“Hm?”

“With my… with me. How did you know the song would work?”

“Oh! My sister, Cassie, you met her. After our mum died, she started getting these panic attacks and I used to sing to her until she calmed down. I just figured I’d give it a try, you know.” Ro shrugged.

“You would have looked so ridiculous if it wouldn’t have.” Virgil smirked.

And Roman was gone. Completely gone. He mocked offence. “How dare you question my skills!”

And Virgil started chuckling. Softly and quietly, still weak from everything, but he laughed. And it made Ro’s heart happy. (For some inexplicable reason, he will never admit to or think about ever again.)

“You give me too much reason to, princey.”

“I am offended!”

“I can see that.”

And they both laughed. Just softly. Just quietly. But suddenly it was lighter in the room again.

“But it did help.” Roman concluded, just for his own sake.

“Yeah.” V nodded tiredly. He looked at the alarm clock on his night stand. It was four in the morning. “Don’t you have class in the morning or something?”

Roman just shrugged again, gathering up to move back to his bed. “Nah. I’m free. And so are you judging by your schedule.”

“Did you memorize my schedule?! Are you some kind of stalker?”

“It’s on your table, dimwit.” Roman laughed. “I checked it and remembered some stuff. I’ve got a good memory.”

“Right.” Virgil said, but it was clear he was mocking disbelief.

“By the way, you’re handwriting sucks! Like I already have problems reading printed text, but that mess…”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re very much welcome. What major are you in anyways? You know mine, it’s only fair if I know yours.” the man flopped onto his bed, pulling the covers over himself. It was so warm and comfy! Not like at home, but pretty close.

“Psych.” Virgil did the same.

“Really?!” and the surprise in Roman’s voice was so obvious, if he were anybody else, Virgil would be hurt by it.

“Yes, really.” he just rolled his eyes.

“How did you end up in psych?” the taller was pushing himself up again, ready for another round of talking.

But Virgil had enough of that for one night. he was exhausted. He needed sleep. He closed his eyes - blue ones in glasses still edged in his memory, but their blow softened by the repeating memory of Roman’s lullaby… “Good night, Roman.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t leave me hanging now. I’m really curious! Tomorrow you’ll go back to your sulky self and I won’t even get a word from you!”

And that made Virgil grin into his pillow. Because yes - he was going to do exactly just that.

“Good night, Roman.”

--------------------------------------

I told you I’ve had some backstory planned! And that isn’t even the whole thing yet! (@hestianerd1 you said angst from both sides. You’re getting a generous dose of it :3 - Btw, thanks for that website! I’ll be using that! <3)

Also, that dyslexia rant - not me projecting XD (It is long and pretty much useless and unimportant, but it stays, I’ve decided XD)

So, heavy subject and sad stories aside... I really do hope you enjoyed it and weren’t troubled too much...

Thanks for reading though ^^

Tag list:

@a-formless-entity

@cirishere

@ray-does-stuff

@lovelivingmydreams

#prestige #very scary tiny V #very lovely tall Ro #virgil angst #some light Roman angst #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #creativity sanders #anxiety sanders #thomas sanders #sander's sides #what else should i tag?#prinxiety

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