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#*furiously rattles the bars of my cage*
dappledpaintbrush · 8 months
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Full honest options on dimentio?
Looks at you like this
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Autistic Answer: OHH YM GODODDODHRKEJTJTKTJR LAYS FLAT ON MY BSCK ON A HIGHWAY HESSOOO FUCKINGGNCOOOOOL RUNS FULL SPEED AT A. BRICK WALL AND JUMPS THROUGH LEAVING A CLOUD OF DUST AND A SHAPE OF MYSELF IN THE WALL IN MY WAKE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH HES SO INTERESTING AND LOSER PILLED I NEED HIM EMBROIDERED ON MY ARM
Autistic Answer:
Okay so at the start of my spm special interest when I was a tiny little googoogaga baby (seven years old) Dimentio was just. This guy. Evil and shit but just a guy. But he was MY guy. I don’t remember beating the game that young. I seriously think I gave up on the yold desert puzzle and just binged koopakungfu let’s plays over and over again but regardless I remember the aftermath and GODDDDDDDDDD I was so indescribably enamored with this Thing . it was REVOLTING.
Now as a near 19 year old I can’t think about him or the game in general without having to stop drop and roll but at the end of the day, Dimentio is still just some guy. But in the morning and the afternoon he’s a fucking idiot. Like you absolute goofiest of goobers, all you had to do was teleport the heroes to Dimension D and wait everything out. That shit is why he’s currently burning in hell. Not for mass murder or being annoying but for the stupidest plan I have ever heard in my entire life. He is also one of the most intriguing characters ever made in the Mario franchise.
Like okay. You are given this purple and yellow triangular smudge on your screen and you go “hmm… (scratches chin) something is Wrong With This Animal. It Might be Sick.” And of course he ends up betraying the sympathetic tragic villain Bleckie Bear and dies (thank GOD) whatever credits roll NO!!!!
FIRST. This guy tells you Bleck has lied about creating new worlds. That is . THAT IS!!! Now he could be lying but he could also NOT be. After all, what other motivation would he have for betraying Bleck? All the worlds to himself perhaps …………………. That’s the thing. You don’t know . That’s this entire character.
You
DONT.
KNOW.
Anything he says and anything about him is either a blatant lie, COULD be a lie, COULD be the truth, or is vague 3,000 year old information given from this dude in a bar that may or may not even be about Dimentio. He is LITERALLY wearing a mask. A TWO FACED MASK might I add.
Nintendo doesn’t lay out his story for you on screen like they do with Bleck. If you don’t take the time to explore, Dimentio will never be more than Bleck’s silly and funny-talking minion who betrayed him out of greed or.. whatever reason. Because he didn’t say it. No no- You have to go out of your way to investigate and pay money and put pieces of this puzzle together to find out that hurt people hurt people (🤓)
He could be some random bloke. He could the descendant of this sad unnamed character and somehow “never found happiness” whatever THAT means. He could be THE sad unnamed character that went through an accident so devastating that it left his mother dead and it left everyone believing HE was dead. This accident, whatever it was, was so horrifying that Dimentio, who can teleport across dimensions, was unable (by choice or not) to find and tell his remaining family he was alive. After his “death”, his sister would die as well. Their father, likely going insane with unimaginable grief, would rip her soul from the afterlife just to keep his only child- the only family he had left- with him, oblivious to the fact that somewhere, his son was still alive. This little girl, now forever trapped as a Pixl, would become so angry at what her father had done that she would start a war and slaughter ANYONE that tried to get in her way. The Pixl Queen- this angry, scared, and confused child- would lose once more. She would be destroyed. All she is now is a shadow of her former self. And that’s what she would reform as in the pits below an Ancient city, where, at the hands of our heroes, she would lose AGAIN. Dimentio could be oblivious to all of this. He could know a fraction of it. He could know all of it. He could hold no guilt. He could blame himself for what had happened to her, for he had been gone all those years- whatever that means.
He could want to destroy everyone and everything out of personal gain- to recreate them all in his image and rule them as he sees fit all because he is a greedy narcissist. He could want to destroy everyone and everything because, like Blumiere, he sees no point in anything after losing all he loved in all worlds. Maybe he betrayed Blumiere because Dimentio wanted to rule a timeline that goes his way and ONLY his way. Maybe “his way” is where he gets all he wanted in riches, in wealth, in a population that essentially worships him, and so on. After all, he does say that he wants to be king of all worlds. Maybe that isn’t everything he wants. After all, he doesn’t just wipe out everyone in all dimensions and create mindless followers using the Dark Prognosticus that is capable of doing that exact thing. No. Like Blumiere, Dimentio, too, wants the worlds gone. Erased. All of them. The worlds that caused that accident. killed his mom. “killed” him. killed his sister. And in these self-described and self-created perfect new worlds, his timeline, his way, where he can create anything and anyone he wants- maybe he isn’t alone anymore. Whatever that means.
In my full honest opinion, I think he is SO .FUCKING. COOL.
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killbaned · 10 months
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i opened the free preview for the thg prequel novel assuming it gives you a couple chapters and stops and it did but it
it fucking
it stopped in the middle of a GODDAMN SENTENCE????
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ralaferin · 11 months
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both of my parents love the monarchy so I’m enjoying myself thoroughly being a horrible little hater today
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symphony-calamity · 8 months
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*rattling the bars of my cage furiously* WHERE is my good friend Jonathan Harker I wish to speak with him NOW!
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echo-goes-mmm · 4 months
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Second-Hand Goods #5
Masterpost
Previous
Next
Warnings: human trafficking, oral dub/non-con, manipulation
Emmett woke up with a headache. He yawned, but didn’t get very far.
Right, the muzzle.
The first thing he noticed was how hungry he was. Did he even eat last night?
Last night… last night was fuzzy. He must have fallen asleep.
He stretched, but again didn’t get very far. He shivered; he was cold again.
Emmett opened his eyes to see metal bars. He rolled over. 
He was in one of the kennels, and lying on the floor across the room was a ‘guest’, still asleep. Master must have given him medicine. 
“Good morning, my dear.”
Emmett whipped his head around to see Master leaning against the wall. He came over and crouched in front of him.
“Here’s how this is gonna go.” His voice was firm, and Emmett knew there was no room to fuck up.
“In about an hour, our friend over there will wake up.” He nodded towards the man on the floor. 
“I’ll give you the usual routine, and then you’ll take care of our guest. No talking. Got it?”
Emmett nodded. It seemed easy enough. 
Upstairs was in his future, he could feel it. Maybe Master would even let him decorate the spare bedroom.
___________________
Sure enough, after an hour the man was stirring. Emmett watched through the bars as he twitched and shifted. 
Abruptly, the man sat up. His wild eyes fixed in on him. Emmett shrank away, even though the bars protected him. 
“Where the fuck am I?” he said, his voice shaking. “Who are you?”
Emmett shook his head. Even if was allowed to speak, he didn’t know where Master lived. Not even the state.
The man tried to get up, but he was tethered to the floor with a handcuff around one of his wrists.
“Oh my god,” he sniffed, “I’m going to die here.” 
Emmett couldn’t speak, but he could at least answer that. He rapped on the bars with a fist. The man looked up. Emmett shook his head.
“I… I’m not?”
Emmett nodded. The man sagged in relief. 
“Thanks.”
He heard the door at the top of the stairs open. He turned towards the door. It was a pretty roomy cage, all things considered, but he wasn’t exactly happy staying in it.
Master’s keys rattled as he opened the big gate. He slammed it behind him, locking it again. Was he angry, or just putting on a show? 
“Please let me go,” begged the man, “I’ll do whatever you want!” 
Master ignored him, opening Emmett’s kennel. “Come, Emmett. Kneel.”
He crawled out of the cage.
Master unfastened the muzzle, and let him stretch out his jaw before taking his temperature.
Breakfast was once again an apple, granola bar, and a bottle of water. Emmett thought of the pancakes as he ate. He was so close, he could nearly taste them. Maybe he’d be allowed to make french toast once this was over.
Master slipped on his muzzle when he was finished. 
“Be. Good,” he muttered into his ear. 
Master wiped off the thermometer and handed it and the bag of food to him. Emmett stood, walking over to the man.
He showed the man the thermometer, and he accepted it easily. It beeped, and his temperature was normal. 
Emmett handed out the food, and turned to see if Master was pleased.
But Master wasn’t watching, typing furiously on his phone. It rang, and he cursed. 
Master stalked towards him, grabbing his arm and dragging him back to the kennel. He shoved Emmett in, and the doorbell sounded upstairs.
“Not a word,” he hissed, “Either of you.” He shot a glare towards the newcomer, who nodded.
Master ran upstairs, two at a time.
After a moment of distant talking, he heard two sets of footsteps on the stairs.
“So what have you got for me?” said a new voice, a man.
“I only have the one,” said Master, irritated. “Just got it in this morning.”
They came into view, and Emmett immediately hated the man. His smile made his teeth chatter.
“Just one? You told me to come today.”
“I said call next week, idiot.” Master rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you got my address. It’s unprofessional, Jake.”
Jake examined the new guest, his eyes roaming over him. The man whimpered. 
“I don’t like it,” whined Jake.
Master shrugged, checking his phone. “Take him or wait a week. I have a pick up scheduled that you’ll love.”
“What about the one in the cage?” Emmett’s blood ran cold.
“Not for sale.”
“Five thousand.”
“No.”
“Seven thousand.”
“No.”
“Ten thousand.” Master looked up from his phone. He looked at Emmett, like he was considering it. 
“Don’t!” he blurted. “Please don’t, Master, I-”
“Shut the fuck up!” snarled Master, his face suddenly twisting. 
Oh god, he had disobeyed. He curled into the corner of his kennel. It was game over, he was going to be punished or killed.
“Like I said,” Master turned to Jake, “he’s not for sale. Now forget my address before you cause even more problems.”
“Jesus, fine! You’re a pain in the ass, Ander.” Jake threw up his hands. 
Master escorted him upstairs, and Emmett began to tremble. He pulled the blanket around him, as if that would save him from Master’s wrath.
Ander. His name was Ander. Useless information. It wasn’t like he could ever tell anyone.
He locked eyes with the man across the room, and he looked almost as terrified as Emmett felt. 
___________________
Master had been gone for several minutes, and with each passing second the lead ball of dread in his gut got heavier.
What if Master left him in the cage forever? If he just let him starve? Threw away the key and let him rot?
Or worse? Sell him off to suffer and die?
He shivered under the blanket. 
Please don’t make me go back. Please.
He heard Master’s footfalls on the steps. They were quiet, and that was somehow scarier than if he stomped.
Master didn’t even look at him when he got downstairs. Instead, he went to the supply locker. He pulled out a foldable step stool and a long length of chain.
Emmett burrowed further into the covers. His heart was beating rabbit-fast.
Master got on the stool, looping the chain over a hook and pulley embedded in the steel beams of the ceiling. He grabbed a pair of shackles from the locker, securing them to the end of the chain. 
He was in deep shit.
Finally, Master turned to him. His face was stern and cold, and Emmett wished he could turn back time and just keep his mouth shut. 
Master unlocked the kennel, and Emmett resolved not to resist. If he was good, really good, maybe it would all go away.
Master hauled him out by the arm. His grip was bruisingly tight. He locked the cuffs around his wrists, weighing them down with cold steel.
Master started to pull the chain, forcing his arms up and up and up, until he was nearly on the tip of his toes. A deep ache settled into his shoulders.
Master took off the muzzle. He tossed it aside, and the sound of the metal on the concrete was shockingly loud compared to the held breath of silence earlier. 
He was shorter than Master, and he felt every single inch of difference. 
“I’m sor-” His head was suddenly in the other direction, his face stinging. Master gripped him by the chin, yanking him back.
“What the fuck was that?” Master hissed. “Are you stupid?” Emmett shook his head.
“N-”
“Shut up.” Master stepped away, rummaging through the supply locker. 
“When I tell you something, I expect you to follow it.” His voice was cold, nothing like the sweetness he used yesterday morning. The anger in it was gone too, and the calm frightened him.
Master found what he was looking for, and Emmett had to bite his lip to keep silent when he saw it. 
Seeing the crop in his hand, long and imposing, he hoped that Master wouldn't punish him for screaming. It would be a losing game.
“I’ve been really kind, Emmett. Haven’t I? Don’t speak.”
Emmett nodded. His shoulders protested. 
“I could make a lot of money off of you,” he said, circling around to his back. “I still have texts from Jake, telling me to call if I ever change my mind.”
Emmett squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the blow. But instead a cool metal slipped under his shirt. The dull side of a blade ran up his spine, the fabric tearing.
“Thousands of dollars. An amount that could change some people’s lives. Do you understand that?”
He nodded. He knew, better than a lot of people. Ten thousand dollars would have changed his life. 
The shirt fell away. Master’s hand ran up his back. Goosebumps broke out under his touch.
To his horror, Master reached around and undid the button of his pants, pulled the zipper, and tugged his pants clear off of him. He saw them get tossed to the side from the corner of his eye.
He didn’t get to keep his boxers either. 
The first strike made him yelp, the fiery mark burning into the small of his back.
“I’m disappointed, my dear.”
The second was just as bad. And the third. And the fourth.
“I asked you for one simple thing.” The fifth lash crossed over another, and he shrieked.
“And you couldn’t do it. But I’m giving you a second chance.” Master came back around. “I don’t think you really deserve one, but I’m feeling generous. Don’t you think that’s generous? Speak.”
“Yes! So generous! Thank you, Master,” he sobbed, “thank you, thank-”
“Enough. Start counting.”
___________________
“Five!” he cried. His head swam, his vision sparking at six, seven, eight-
How many would there be?
___________________
Emmett sobbed, his back raw and burning. His ears rang with his own screams- another blow-
“Tw- twenty!”
___________________
“Please…” he begged, “no- no more. Please.” His knees shook, and each shifting stumble yanked more on his screaming shoulders. But it was nothing compared to everything else. 
He could feel the beads of blood forming from the back of his thighs, up his ass, to the top of his shoulder blades. That, and the searing pain, was the only warmth he had.
Master hummed. The tip of the crop grazed over his welts, and he didn’t have the energy to flinch away. He panted through the feeling. It was like sandpaper over his raw skin.
“Have you learned a lesson?”
“Y- yes, Master.”
“I suppose we could put this away.” He tapped the crop on his ass, and that time he jumped. Master chuckled.
The locker slammed shut. He heard the sound of plastic, and something cool touched his back. He whimpered.
“Hush.”
It took a minute before he realized it was some sort of cream, and the relief was the most intense joy he’d ever experienced.
He bit his lip to keep quiet as Master spread the cream over each mark. 
It could be so much worse. Master really was lenient. He only hurt him once he’d messed up, and rightfully so. How hard was it to keep his mouth shut?
He should have known Master wasn’t going to sell him off when Jake had offered.
Master decided he was worth more than money, and had given him a second chance. 
It wouldn’t go to waste.
“You know,” murmured Master into his ear. “I only punished you to be sure you understand my requirements. You still have to make it up to me, Emmett.”
He nodded. That made sense, what was the point of rules with no consequences? He’d been warned after all. And he had upset Master so much…
Master lowered him down slowly. His muscles screamed from the effort, and he shook from exhaustion. 
Master uncapped a bottle of water and pressed it to his lips. Emmett drank greedily, the cool water a balm to his sore throat. Once it was gone, Master tossed it in the trash can at the end of the basement. 
Even when he was angry, he was kind enough to take care of him.
Emmett didn’t move, waiting on his knees for Master’s next instructions. 
Master stood in front of him, and Emmett could barely look him in the eye. But Master had that smile on him again, and that was good.
Master cupped the back of his head, bringing him straight to his crotch, and Emmett knew what was expected.
“Go on,” said Master, “Make it up to me.”
He kissed the front of Master’s trousers as thanks. Hands shaking, he undid the button, and slowly pulled the zipper. He mouthed at the bulge in Master’s underwear, and Master sighed, pleased.
He carefully took out Master’s cock, stroking it the best he knew how. He’d never given a blowjob before, but he knew what he personally liked. 
He licked up the underside of Master’s dick, and Master’s fingers began to stroke his hair. 
He took the tip into his mouth, and tried to think about what would feel good. He took in more and more of Master’s cock, doing his best to breathe.
He had only Master’s breathy moans to rely on, but it seemed to be working. Master hit the back of his throat, and his eyes began to water. He bobbed his head, and Master began to thrust. He cursed and gripped his hair, and Emmett did his best not to gag.
“Fuck, Emmett,” he groaned. He was close, he could see it in Master’s face. And sure enough, moments later his mouth was full of cum. He tried to swallow it all, but he choked as Master pulled out, coughing onto the floor.
“There’s a good boy,” said Master. He wiped off the lingering cum from Emmett’s chin, pushing it back into his mouth. It was bitter on his tongue, but he licked it clean. He was a good boy, and that was what mattered.
Master tucked himself back into his pants. He ran a hand through his hair.
“Right, then. Back in the kennel, my dear.”
His face fell. After all that, after everything, he was supposed to go back in there?
“Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart. I still can’t trust you, now can I?” He couldn’t afford to hesitate; he crawled back inside the kennel. Master was right, but it still stung. 
But as he curled up inside, head on pillow (he couldn’t stand the idea of a blanket on his torn-up back), he only felt relief. The kennel was safe; he wouldn’t be hurt here. The bars were a barrier between him and the world. Even more than Master’s house.
The guest was staring at him with red rimmed eyes, tear tracks down his face. What was he crying about? 
Emmett rolled over to face the wall.
He was hungry again, and still cold.
taglist: @writereleaserepeat @paintedpigeon1
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em-writes-stuff · 9 months
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gas mask + cage
day 4 of two weeks of whump @promptsforyourwhumpfic
hero, villain and vigilante
warnings: drugging, captivity
558 words
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Villain kicks against the bars of the cage, rattling the door slightly. He huffs loudly, trying to catch his breath in the tiny space. It presses against his sides, the bars digging into his arms and legs. 
Vigilante smiles and pours two cups of coffee, “You’ll have to ignore him, he hasn’t any manners.” 
Hero nods once and takes a small sip from his cup, “It’s not a problem.” 
Villain mumbles through the mask Vigilante had strapped to his face and they both ignore him. 
They go on about the weather and how Vigilante’s garden isn’t doing as well as it was last year. Hero dismisses her when she says it’s probably her fault, instead blaming the drought. 
Villain kicks out again, this time nearly popping the door open. Vigilante shoots up from her chair and slams it shut, closing it on Villain’s ankle. He cries out, yanking his leg away from the door and hitting his knee on the top of the cage. He yelps again and Hero chuckles. 
“You know, Vigilante. I’ve been trying to ignore it, but I would love to know what’s on his face.” 
She smiles cruelly and points to a small vat next to the cage. “That’s a mix of rubbing alcohol and bleach. Do you know what that makes?” 
Hero shakes his head.
“Chloroform. It’s great! One click of this button-” he slams his palm down on the button and Villain’s eyes go wide, he shakes his head furiously- “And he’s out in a few minutes.” 
Hero claps and watches as the gas mask hisses with Villain’s every breath. “You’re so clever. How’d you even figure that out?” 
“Oh, I wouldn’t say clever. I spent a lot of time alone when I was a teenager. Passed out more times than I’d like to admit from mixing them before realizing what was causing it.” She shrugs and sits back down, taking a large drink from her mug. Hero stays standing, eyes boring into Villain as he struggles to keep his eyes open.
He slumps and his chin hits his chest lightly. Hero turns to Vigilante with a smile. “Tell you what,” he sits down across from her and digs into his pocket. “I’ll give you…$7,500 for him and your little contraption. What do you think?” 
Vigilante takes the wad of cash Hero sat on the table and flips through it. She purses her lips and inhales deeply. “I’d love to, I really would. But I’ve grown pretty fond of him. Would you do $10,000?” 
Hero shakes his head, “I dunno, that’s a lot of money.” He stares at Villain for a moment before sighing. “What the hell, you’ve got a deal.” He pulls out the rest of the cash and finishes his coffee. 
Hero slams the mug down on the table and stands up, his hands on his hips. “Alright. Well, how am I gonna get him into my truck without anyone seeing?” 
“You can pull into my garage.” 
He shakes his head playfully and nods, “The brain on you, I tell ya.” 
Villain wakes up from a bump in the road. There’s something covering his cage and music blares from the speakers. 
He cranes his neck to look through a small hole in the cover and he can just barely see Hero’s hair bouncing along with the music. 
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haunthcr · 2 years
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I'm rattling the bars of my cage furiously, I'm onto my second ticket to get @hornlcst unshadowbanned so I can actually write and promote fern
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tinysadman · 2 years
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Mistress's Game, part 5
After my vegetable buggering, the next couple of encounters were rather a blur. A mistress in an elegantly-cut suit jammed a large coin savagely between the bars of my cage and twisted it, pinching a fold of delicate skin exquisitely painfully against the metal. When I cried out she shoved two gloved fingers down my throat until I collapsed coughing on the ground. A woman whose appearance I scarcely registered at all thrust a pen-cap into my groin, then slapped me hard, twice, across the face, and was gone, scarcely seeming to break stride to do it all.
I wanted to curl up into a ball and die of shame, but Mistress hauled me back upright painfully by my ear, tears, drool and snot running down my face, just in time to see a pair of young girls approach. I fought to get my eyes into a respectful position, focused on their scuffed trainers and sagging socks, but I had already seen they were in school uniform. Surely Mistress couldn't allow... could it even be legal...?
They sidled up to us, and I could hear their sniggering whispers. Mistress's firm voice cut through them, "How old are you, girls?"
"Seventeen, ma'am," came the sober reply, their mood chilled by her tone of command.
"Very well, you can approach my property, but remember, he IS my property!"
The first of them offered up a key, easily bigger than Mistress's owned clitty, cowering in its cage at the thought of what these young vixens might do.
"Ha! We win! Let's have a proper look at this pathetic specimen!" Without a pause, the girl shoved me over backwards; I barely had time to protect my head from smacking into the ground before she had straddled my chest, facing away from me. Flipping up her short skirt, she scooted back until her white-pantied ass settled squarely over my face.
"Keep your mouth closed, you dirty little maggot!" she snapped as her weight bore down. Part of my mind registered the delicious softness and a hint of the tang of pussy, but within seconds my lungs registered the lack of air. As I began to struggle, I felt hot fingers flickering around my cage, many of them, poking, prodding, teasing through the bars. Both girls were competing to see if they could stir the clitty to life, and I could hear their giggles above my laboured efforts at breathing.
My pulse began to pound in my ears, and although it seemed impossible I felt the cage begin to tighten. Both girls screamed with delight and the poking fingers grew more vigorous, even as my chest began to spasm.
"That's enough!" Mistress's voice had never been more welcome. "Let my property breathe."
The well-filled panties lifted away from my face, and I gasped with relief, until I heard the other girl's voice, "My turn!"
Looking down to where she crouched over my groin, I saw her pull a penknife from her bag. Instinctively I tried to bring my knees together and protect myself, but she shouldered them aside, planting the handle of the knife firmly beside the cage, barely half its length, asserting her right to the prize.
"Go ahead," Mistress spoke coldly, "But remember he is mine. No damage!"
The girl snickered as she unfolded the blade, then whipped the point with sudden savagery across the bars of the cage, the rattle of metal on metal making the clitty inside shrink visibly. Both girls cackled furiously at that. She trailed the point of the blade down across the flaccid scrotum, poking gently at my perineum, and leaving a thin line of tingling pain down almost to the boipussy below, then out and down one inner thigh.
I had closed my eyes, surrendering to whatever Mistress allowed them to do, when I felt a tug at the panties still bunched around my calves; I peered down in time to see the penknife slashing through the delicate pink fabric at either side, ruining the panties but cutting them free of my legs. With an evil smirk the girl balled them up, stood, and knelt again by my head.
"Open wide, maggot-dick!" She stuffed the cloth into my mouth, poking it down with her fingers until I began to gag, then sprang to her feet and trotted away, arm-in-arm with her friend, screaming with laughter.
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pars-ley · 3 years
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Fists and a Smart mouth
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Pairing: Namjoon x female reader 
Summary: When a rich cowboy moves into town you can't stand him, more so when he attempts to make some drastic changes but with a secret of your own he soon finds out that you'll protect your town and your privacy by any means necessary.
Genre: Idiots to lovers / Enemies to lovers / Angst / Smut / Wild west au / Cowboy au / One shot
Rating: 18+ (NSFW)
Warnings: Abusive ex / Mentions of stabbing (not detailed description) / Guns / Talk of scars / Shooting (not described) / Oral (f receiving) / Sex / Minor character death
Word count: 8100
Project: Bts writers collective secret santa 2020
A/N: This is for my Secret Santa @joontopia​ I was not planning it to be anything like this but it took on a mind of it’s own as I wrote, so my apologies. It’s not the fluffiest thing I’ve written but I really, really hope you enjoy this. If you have an issue with any of the warnings, message me and I will try and edit it for you. It was really lovely getting to know you through asks and trolling your page for clues and info about yourself. Enjoy ❤
Thank you to @moccahobi​ for beta reading this and @birbdae​ also, your comments helped me a lot, it’s much appreciated. And thank you to @wheresmymoniat​ for being a general angel and reading along the way, with your endless encouragement when I’m unsure of my writing.
Two months since Namjoon moved to town.
"Have you heard?" one of your usual patrons, Hoseok, asked, leaning discreetly across the bar.
You look over with a questioning eyebrow. "Heard what?" you reply, half listening and half keeping an eye on Taehyung over on the piano. After one too many beers, you wanted to make sure he wasn't about to put a fist through the keys, with his wild playing; giving the room a personal concert.
"Namjoon's planning on building a mall." he whispers, glancing around suspiciously.
The empty glass you're drying slams against the counter as you turn and face him. 
"How do you know this?" you ask, voice low and uneven with anger.
"I heard him talking to Seokjin about it, he wants his help with planning."
Seokjin, the local and resident builder, he's also the best builder in the state. You knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't want to help with something like that. He wouldn't want to change this town...but maybe for the right price? We all know Namjoon has money, the way he flashes it around like a Hollywood star meant it was not a secret and he didn't want it to be. Even so, you highly doubt Seokjin would accept such an offer.
Doubt starts creeping in, an ugly voice whispering in the back of your mind.
"Hey, Jimin! Can you take over for me?" you call over to him. 
He nods, joining you behind the bar instantly, as you grab your brown fringe-jacket and head out to Seokjin's ranch. You had to know if there was substance to this and not just rumours whispered between the townsfolk.
As your truck raced along the dirt roads, the sound of the roaring engine doing nothing to calm your mind, with flashing images, slicing their way behind your eyes like projector slides. Big corporate buildings, a shopping mall, more city folk, modernisation...not that you were against it. You just didn't want it here. That's what drew you to this place in the beginning a few years ago, that's why you stayed and built a life for yourself, that's why a lot of people stay here, for the vintage, small town life.
You fling your door open before your truck had even come to a stop and you waltzed straight up to Seokjin's front door. Your knuckles making loud contact as they rapped furiously against it.
He opens it with a frown, his face softening when he sees it's you but quickly his expression turns weary from the tense expression you hold.
"What's-"
"Are you helping Namjoon build a mall?" you demand, in no mood to be messed around.
His jaw tenses and he nods for you to come inside.
Storming into his living room too infuriated  to sit, you stand and face him, arms folded, waiting for his response and dreading his answer.
"He did approach me about it but I said no. Did you really think I'd say anything but?" He shook his head at you, disappointment obvious on his face and immediate guilt rising inside you in response.
Your shoulders relax as you let out a breath you didn't realise you'd been holding. "I had to check before I assumed anything."
You slump down on the sofa, leaning your head back and staring up at his slacked ceiling. "Why is he doing this?"
He lets out a laugh as he joins you on the couch. "Now, you know the answer to that. Money. It's all he cares about. He saw an opportunity for something and he's taking it. End of."
You rub your eyes, trying to ease the tension created from your anger pounding inside your head, desperate to escape like some caged, wild animal. "If I went to see him with my gun, do you think it would change his mind?"
He laughs again. "I don't think he'd change his mind even if you shot him, sweetheart." A groan rumbles inside you, the idea of him being so stubborn, makes your fist want to connect with his jaw. "That's not deterring me from doing it."
"If he's going to do it, there's not much we can do." he shrugs and puts his feet up on his wooden coffee table, the wood dipping slightly on impact.
Fury lights your insides anew. You stand, striding across the room, "Like hell there isn't." you say, as you storm out and head off ready for a confrontation with the person you hate the most in this entire town.
You expect your wrath to have died down somewhat on your ride over but, to your pleasant surprise, it hasn't.
You come to a halt outside his ranch, looking over his land and the new building he spent ages preparing to become a hotel...an empty one at that.
After hammering on his door so hard the hinges rattled, he strangely and calmly invites you inside his house.
"You really should see someone about your anger issues. It's not healthy for one person to harbour so much...rage." he says, in such a condescending manner you clench your jaw to stop yourself from lashing out. You'd only be proving him right. 
Something about him got to you, you two have clashed since the moment he arrived in this town, and he knew exactly how to play it too.
"The only issue I have, Namjoon, is you."
He sighs. "I would very much like you on board with this. I don't want to have you fighting the inevitable."
"The inevitable." you gasp with angered amusement, "as long as I'm living in this town, this is anything but inevitable."
"Why do you hate this idea so much?" he asks perplexed, with simultaneous interest and bemusement.
"Someone like you would not understand." You fold your arms in an attempt to hold in the pointless angry words you feel boiling inside.
He shrugs. "I would like to try. Humour me."
You let out an exasperated sigh, tired of the anger, tired of being so closed off but you had no choice but to be exactly that. "Some people have come here to enjoy the small town life." you reply simply, not having the trust in him or yourself to say more.
"And maybe some people have come here to escape something?" 
You freeze, heart stopping before pounding so violently against your ribcage, you're sure it's echo fills the room.
He watches you carefully, searching your eyes and all you can do is stare back.
"You know, I did some research after our first encounter…"
You swallow, trying to ease the choking sensation in your throat.
"...I'm usually good at finding any useful information about people…"
He walks slowly around his kitchen island to you. You couldn't move even if you wanted to, your feet frozen to the spot but wanting to run, fighting for you to run.
"...But you...I couldn't find a single thing about you."
Your eyes connect with his as he towers above you, searching for your own answers, needing to find out what he knows.
"Don't you find that odd?" he asks.
Your mind races inside your frozen stature. You could not tell a man like Namjoon anything. You could not trust him. He will ruin this life you've made and turn it upside down.
"Well, I found it very odd. It's like you don't even exist...so that got me intrigued and asking some questions."
Your stomach drops as small beads of sweat break out across your forehead, the sudden heat under your flannel shirt almost unbearable.
"And do you know what I found out?" he taps his chin, drawing out the tension purposefully and making you want to headbutt the smug look off his face.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No one knows a personal thing about you."
The relief you feel inside makes you want to collapse to your knees and thank gods you don’t believe in.
"That is, if they're being honest. I know you like to protect your own in communities like this. But it definitely has me wondering…?"
He waits for a response this time.
"What?" your voice comes out a raspy whisper, his words leaving the taste of ash in your dry mouth.
"What are you hiding?"
You steel yourself, remembering just how pathetic of a man he is and let's face it, you've dealt with much scarier things than him. "Even if I was hiding something, I'd certainly never tell the likes of you."
You turn and head towards his door, when you hear his voice again. 
"I'm not stupid enough to believe we'll be friends, you know but I would like us to at least be civil."
You let out a bitter laugh. "You can keep dreaming, pretty boy." You storm out, slamming his door hard enough for the glass to rattle in it’s wooden frame.
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Three and a half months since Namjoon moved to town.
He's wasted, completely inebriated. You watch from behind the bar, getting ready to close, as he fumbles for the keys to his truck.
He came quietly into the bar this afternoon, face like thunder, ordering drink, after drink, after drink, no other words spoken. Most unusual for the chatty Kathy he is.
You've never seen him so drunk - so vulnerable. You wonder if perhaps something has happened. But, honestly, do you really care?
The keys slam to the floor and he goes head first into the driver's side door as he bends to retrieve them, face down in the dirt.
You shouldn't let him drive home. Definitely not.
Quickly shrugging on your jacket and grabbing your keys, locking the bar doors behind you as you rush over to him.
"Hey, big guy, come on, let's get you up." you throw his arm around your shoulders and use all your strength to get him on his feet and on balance. 
"I don't...need...your help." he mumbles, leaning into you, almost ready to pass out.
You open his truck door and shove him in, sliding him over as you climb in beside him. He doesn't notice as you pry the keys from his weak grip and start the engine.
Driving to his ranch would be a mistake; the pretentious layout of it would mean you would have to walk him much further than you think you actually could. Not without dropping him a few times, although that's not a bad idea.
You sigh as you drive down the winding dirt road that led to your land. The idea of having this man in your house would usually have infuriated you. But after seeing the sadness that clouded his eyes this morning you...felt for him.
You once told him he must have a miserable existence, being surrounded by money and not love. You wince at the memory. You were no different, except you weren't surrounded by either, how miserable does that make you?
As you pull up to your ranch, you look over to him, passed out, face squashed against the glass of the window. You wonder what secrets he must have, what sadness he's known, what dreams he’s had. How does someone get to be the way he is? 
There are surely a few people who would ask that very question about you. Only, you had a reason...have a reason. One you will never be free from. You push the thoughts away, back down into the pit they're buried into. No time to dwell in self pity. You're in this position through no fault but you're own, you bought it on yourself and now you have to live with those choices. 
You practically carry him the few steps to the front door and over to the sofa. He stumbles and almost trips over your rug but you hoist him up, almost injuring yourself in the process. You practically throw him onto the couch, where he tries to hold himself up but fails and collapses into the pillow you shove under him.
"I wish…" he starts, slurring every word. "I wish I was more like you." 
"No, you don't." You reply into the thick silence that envelopes you in a inescapable cage.
His eyelids close and immediately a roar of snoring fills the room, vibrating not only your eardrums but you're sure the walls too.
You lift his legs and lay them flush with his body, his limbs are so long they hang off over the armrest.
Taking one last look at him and wondering exactly what he meant by that, before heading upstairs to bed.
Why would anyone want to be like you?
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The day after you let Namjoon sleep on your couch.
You had taken longer than necessary in the shower this morning, pottered around upstairs, procrastinating, which is something you rarely do and all to avoid the man you'd left slumped unconscious on your couch.
You listen for any signs of movement down stairs and when you hear none, part of you hopes he's gone. That he woke up early and drove home, no awkward encounter, no questions, just peace.
You should be so lucky.
As you descend your wooden stairs, you hear the rattle of snoring and roll your eyes.
He lay on his stomach, face squashed on its side with limbs splayed out and hands sagged against your rug.
How were you going to get rid of him?
You prepare a few things in the kitchen before taking some pain killers and a glass of water over. 
You nudge him tentatively with your foot. Nothing. Nudging him again, harder this time, but still nothing.
"Hey." You call harshly into the heavy silence. Nothing.
Inspiration strikes, as your hand lashes out, flicking the glass forward and sending water cascading over him.
He jumps up with a gasp, bolt upright, shock contorting his face.
You bite back a laugh at the sight of his drenched form.
His eyes widen when he focuses on you and then dart around wildly searching for answers.
"I drove you home last night as you could hardly stand but you passed out so I brought you here." You explain in a blasé manner. 
Holding out the pills, he takes them mechanically. 
"I'll just refill your water for you." You skip off with a smirk. His wet hair clinging to his forehead, little water droplets dripping off the end of his nose. The sight deeply satisfying, in more ways than one. As much as you would never admit it, he looked good wet.
He swallows the pills and greedily downs the water you return with. Gasping for air, he finally meets your gaze. "We didn't…" he stumbles on his words and you laugh loudly.
"Trust me, you were in no condition for anything physical last night."
A hint of a smile plays around his mouth but he tries to fight it. "That doesn't sound like you're completely repulsed by the idea?" One of his eyebrows pulls up into a challenging arch.
"Ha! If you were the last man on earth and the human race was left depending on us to continue, only then would I possibly consider it."
A shy smile and a dimple creating an endearing crevice in his cheek. "Well that's not a complete no, so I'll take that."
You shake your head, amused, if not a little perplexed by him.
He sighs, wiping down his damp jeans. "Well, I suppose I better get out of your hair." He stands, seeming slightly unsteady and visibly in pain as he clutches his head. 
"Why don't you stay for breakfast, have some coffee then I'll drive you back to your place in the truck?"
He stares at you with his mouth popped open in a little 'o', the same expression you imagine looking at yourself with. Where in the fuck did that come from? Have you forgotten who he is? 
"If that's ok with you, that would be great...unless you're planning to poison me?" There's humour in his remark but a sincere worry too.
You chuckle as you head over to the stove, switching it on and cracking some eggs into the heated frying pan, the sizzle filling the silence. "I can assure you, I'm more of a 'violence is the answer' type person, in case that wasn't obvious already."
You smile to yourself at the memory of the very first day you met. 
He'd backed his truck into yours, denting the hood and completely knocking off the bumper before driving home. You had greeted him in his living room, not bothering to knock, just letting yourself in, backing him into a corner and threatening him with a wrench. The image of his wide eyed, frozen form brought you a fresh wave of satisfaction as he handed you a wad of cash and uttered frantic apologies. 
"Hmm, so I recall." He replies, brows furrow in thought as he takes a seat at your table, clearly his mind travelling to the same place yours is. You'd gotten off entirely on the wrong foot, and if you were honest, still continued to.
"How do you like your eggs?" 
He smirks. "I'm assuming, 'with a kiss' is pushing it."
You shoot him a glare, even though you feel amusement tug at your lips.
He holds his hands up. "Fair enough, as they come will be fine."
Once breakfast is done, you drive him home, smiling and laughing more than you thought possible with him, you realise he's actually quite humorous when he's not torturing you by his existence. 
You stand awkwardly by his truck waiting for him to say words that are clearly trying to escape from his mouth but he seems to be having trouble forming.
"Thank you...for last night...and this morning. You've been surprisingly kind, even if I really don't deserve it." He looks at his feet while clutching his hat tightly, looking utterly innocent and fragile, suddenly seeming like a much younger man standing in front of you. 
"Don't mention it. It won't happen again, don't worry." You smile playfully as you knock on his truck and leave, feeling his eyes watching you as you saunter off down the dirt road to work.
"I'm sorry, did I just hear that right?" Seokjin asks, his voice shrill, shock making his eyes bulge comically at you. "'He's not that bad' since when, please tell me!? A few days ago you thought he was the devil in disguise." 
You laugh at his reaction and poke him playfully on the chest. "Hey, listen, all I'm saying is we only show people what we want others to see, doesn't mean it's always real."
He thinks for a moment, eyes sparkling with amusement. "So what you're saying is, he acts like Mr big shot money bags but he isn't?" He gives you a quizzical look and checks your temperature with the back of his hand.
You laugh again and shove his hand away. "Yes, I am fine and yes in a way. Sure, he has money and he shows off but maybe he acts like that to hide something else. Maybe he thinks that's what people expect of him, maybe he's scared of something."
Seokjin's windshield wiper laugh shrieks in your ears. "Ok, now I've heard it all. Firstly, there’s nothing deep about this man, other than his cash flow and secondly, you think he's scared? The man is an arrogant moron, end of." 
"Everyone's scared of something, it's not that far fetched."
He leans in to you slightly. "That is a lie. You, my friend, are scared of nothing." He gets up from his bar stool, placing his hat on his head and downing the last of his drink. "The day I see you scared is the day the world ends. There's not a problem you can't get out of with your fists or your smart mouth." He laughs as he leaves the bar.
The irony is, there is one problem that would get infinitely worse with your fists and your smart mouth. Something that would have you terrified beyond imagination. Something you plan to hide from for the rest of your existence.
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Five months since Namjoon moved to town.
You are back at his door, although this time you stand on the doorstep and pound angrily to be let in.
When he opens it, he looks hesitant. "You don't usually knock, just barging in is more you style rig-?"
"Why was there a man taking photos of me today?" The words leave your mouth in a furious rush, the need to be out and to hear another dreaded deal he's made. To prove yourself right about the type of man he is.
"What? You mean the photographer?"
You take a shaky breath to calm yourself. "That's usually what they do isn't it? Take photos?" You say between gritted teeth.
He frowns. "Well, yes, I don't understand why you're upset? I listened to you and told you I'm not building the mall, I've hired someone to take pictures of the town as it is, just to get business for my Hotel, and you're still upset with me!? Jesus, I can't win." He runs a frustrated hand through his swept back hair, forehead exposed - it suits him best that way. 
You melt slightly under his accusing stare and suddenly you feel embarrassed by your reaction, it's not all anger, it's fear clenching your heart in its iron grasp. You want to scream, to run from it but you can't, it follows you. It followed you here and to the town you were in before. It will follow you wherever you are. You know this, you've accepted it and this is why you can't afford to get attached to someone, not romantically. It would cause too much heartache on both sides, when you'd eventually have to leave again.
"No, I'm not upset about that." You sigh and rub a hand across your eyes, exhaustion and exasperation weighing you down like a ton of bricks. "I just….I can't have my picture taken. Do what you want, but please, I'm begging you, do not put me in them." You stare at him with desperation, flitting from one eye to the other. 
"Ok, ok." He says quickly, putting an arm on yours to reassure you. The touch soothes you for a moment and takes you by surprise. 
"I'll make sure they delete the ones of you, ok? You have my word."
You see the honesty radiate from him and you relax. You're on the verge of tears with relief and happiness, the fear deflating as you stand here.
"Thank you!" You plead.
There's a moment of silence between you and you're not quite sure why you're still standing here.
"You know, if there's anything you ever want to tell me or talk about, you can trust me. I know I've not been great but I'll always be here if you need someone to lean on." 
An odd warmth spreads through your chest, until you feel it's ready to burst. You can't help the smile that stretches across your lips.
"I know you can bear the brunt but sometimes it's nice to not have to." He adds, eyes wide and welcoming, enticing you with his earnest expression and the dimple that appears from his sideways smile.
You grab him by the collar and pull him to you, lips crashing against his with ferocious hunger. You feel him freeze against you before he returns it with feverish hands running down your back and cupping you under the buttocks, lifting your legs beneath you.
You wrap them tightly around his waist as he leads you quickly inside, kicking the door shut behind him.
He doesn't make it up the stairs, the plush living room rug against your back a suitable substitute for his bedroom. 
Your mouths dance, tongues interlacing all the while his hands are everywhere all at once, the heat from them setting your veins alight with fiery lust.
Your hands find his hair and your fingers run through his silky locks, using them to pull him even closer to you.
He moans into your mouth, the sound enticing you further.
"I want you so bad." he says in a breathless whisper.
You hook your leg over his and push him, flipping him on his back, straddling him.
You pull your button up off over your head and he groans when he discovers you aren't wearing a bra. His hands slide quickly up your waist to fondle your breasts, plunging his teeth into his generous bottom lip before he sits up and sucks a nipple into his mouth. A hiss escapes you as pleasure shoots straight to your core and has you grinding against his denim clad erection. 
He cups the side of your face and brings you back down to his mouth, your lips meeting once again in a hot, fervent kiss.
His lips find their way to your ear. "Stand up." 
There was no authority in his voice, just a soft pleading, one you could not resist. As you rise, his fingers were already undoing your jean buttons then pulling them down around your ankles and helping you step out of them. 
On his knees looking up at you with heavy lids, as he places a faint kiss against your clothed sex. The sight of it heavenly, you couldn't help but admire his beauty, the sheer amount of it having escaped your notice before.
He slips a finger under your panties and pulls them aside, lips instantly on you, hot and wet, causing your head to snap back with explicit language echoing past your lips.  
He chuckles against you, the vibration making you gasp as his tongue delves to your most sensitive parts, a venture no previous man has been. The sensation; mind blowing and you find yourself grinding against him. The relentless pace of his tongue against your swollen bud has you crying out, hands gripped into his hair as you come undone against his mouth. His arm snakes around your waist, supporting your trembling frame as your moans of ecstasy repeatedly fill the silence of the room.
As the spasms of pleasure subside, you're vaguely aware of Namjoon removing his trousers, his hand still in contact with your skin, as you drift back down from your euphoric cloud. 
You mount him before he's finished pulling his pants from his ankles, his hands find your buttocks and guide you onto him. You lower yourself, sliding him into you.
He lays back, a look of pure adoration as he watches you wind your hips round, back and forth and up and down, until he's a writhing, moaning mess underneath you. His lips constantly find your skin, leaving moist trails, cold from the air, all over you.
Your bodies crashing against each other as you eagerly chase your end. 
Feeling yourself tightening around him, coiled like a spring ready to bound into a new realm of elation.
"That's it baby, let go." He says softly, clinging onto your hips to keep you moving.
Your orgasm explodes, more intense than before, completely taking over you as you contract around him. He joins you, filling you with his warm seed, cradling you in his arms as you both ride out your spasms of bliss. 
When your mind has returned to your body, you slump onto the rug, your bare bodies beside each other, as he turns towards your back his fingers skate over the large scar on your back. You go rigid for a moment, preparing yourself for his questions, attempting to scramble up a lie in your mind. His lips find the puckered pink skin and place a chaste kiss on it. His questions don't come, instead he wraps you in his arms and holds you close enough you can feel his pounding heart against you.
No words are exchanged. There isn't anything to be said but you feel everything and more in that moment.
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Two weeks since you had sex with Namjoon.
"Very nice. You've really captured the beauty of the town in these." you smile at him and lay a gentle hand on his knee. Something he chooses not to ignore, placing his hand over yours while he continues clicking through the various pictures on his hotel website.
"Yea, the photographer did a really good job." he looks over to you, with a raised eyebrow. "So you approve of these?" 
"Of course." you say, standing and grabbing your jacket draped across the stairway banister. 
"That's a first." he teases, a smirk playing across his full lips, calling out to you as usual.
You drape your arms around his shoulders and place a slow kiss on his neck, the moan you entice from him has your lips smiling against his skin.
"Stay." he says quietly.
"I can't, I have to work." It's regretful but true. "Besides, I've been holed up in here for nearly two weeks. Time for a change of scenery."
He pouts as he takes your hand, pulling it towards his chest. "There's nothing wrong with the scenery here...especially when you're upstairs...in my bed...naked."
His eyes hold burning heat, pupils blown with longing and it sends throbbing lust right between your legs.
"How about, you think about me naked and in your bed...until I finish work, then I'll make up for all that torture." you reply, winking at him before your lips meet in a passionate, fiery kiss. 
No one has ever kissed you like Namjoon. No one has given you this feeling...one you can't quite describe. For the first time in years, you feel completely yourself and...happy. Your chest swells when you look at him and you find it odd how someone you could hardly stand, now has such an effect on you.
"This evening is going to drag." he rolls his eyes. "I'll pick you up after work."
Your insides grin. Part of you wanted to keep him your dirty little secret and the other part wanted everyone to see you together.
You nod and plant one more kiss against his mouth, as you tear your body and your eyes away from him. 
That’s when you see it.
Your face. On his screen. Bold as a summer's day.
Your stomach drops, turning into a lump of concrete inside you, weighing you down. Rage alights in you but betrayal counters it, racing through your veins in your shaking limbs and spilling out of your eyes in hot tears.
Namjoon follows your eye line and freezes. Neither of you move. 
All you can do is stare at the smiling, care free photo of you, behind the bar. And all you can think of is, how many people have possibly seen this? Who has and what now? 
He turns back to you, eyes wide and encased with a frown, a pleading hand outstretched towards you, as you realise you're backing up and heading to his front door.
"I didn't know." he says quietly.
 "You promised me that I wouldn't be in any of them!" you yell, skin hot and your stomach churning. "I can't believe I let you fool me. I genuinely thought you were telling me the truth. How could you do this to me?" 
Something flickers across his face but it's gone before you realise what it is, as he takes another step towards you. "I didn't do this!"
Your heart pounds in your ears, every part of you throbbing with treachery. 
He drops his hand, sensing it's useless. 
"Clearly your word means as little as I do to you." you close the distance between you, a finger pointing in his face. "If I ever see you in my bar, so help me, I'll make you unable to ride your horse for a very long time."
He opens his mouth to speak. 
"I beg you, give me one reason." you spit, venom encasing every word. You storm out, feeling sick to your stomach. This is the man that you've been having the most amazing, passionate sex with for the last two weeks. You've been inseparable, opened yourself up to him in every way. Laid yourself bare and vulnerable for him.
You wanted to scrub yourself down, feeling like you've gone past enemy lines and turned against your own. He was a risk, you'd known that but had still let yourself get caught up in him. Believed in his lies. In him. You left him in the middle of the room, staring after you, getting in your truck and driving. After calling Jimin to cover you, you head to the next town, where you can be alone and drink until you forget.
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Three months since Namjoon betrayed you. 
You've been a wreck. For three months you've been constantly looking over your shoulder, sick to your stomach. Your emergency bag packed and hidden in your truck, should you need to flee. Your life shoved in that small leather bag. You didn't have much, that was clear to you but it seemed sadder than ever to have your most important things in one tiny holder. No one that would care when you were gone. Maybe Seokjin, but he'd forget about you eventually, any friends you make always do.
Namjoon had not been back into the bar, not while you were working anyway, you're not sure he'd have the guts. You had seen him fleetingly on a few occasions, his hopeful glances towards you rebuked by your impassive, stony face. 
At some point Seokjin informed you, your photo had been removed from the website, Namjoon clearly trying to make amends for his deception - unsuccessful and useless attempts. You do not bend or yield to someone who has stabbed you in the back, you learnt that the hard way a long time ago...quite literally too.
You shrug into your jacket, noticing how much roomier it had become recently. Eating has not been high on the priority list when your stomach churns with anxiety and trepidation. You turn off the lights and head to the door of the bar, keys in hand.
A squeak from the hinges sounds into the silence, you look to see the doors wobbling slightly, the breeze catching it. 
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of your neck are on end, goose bumps leave a bumpy trail across your skin. You're just being paranoid. No one's here. It’s just the wind. 
Your feet move quickly to the doors, imagining you can hear following footsteps. Just as you reach your exit, a swift, sharp pull on your hair sends you slamming into the wooden boards.
A weight on top of you, pinning you down and unable to fight. A hand across your mouth to stop you from screaming and making it difficult to breathe.
His scent. It encases you, trapping you in another time and freezing you in those moments, those memories. The abusive days, the violent temper, the possessiveness, the cuts and bruises, the stabbing. Staring death in the face had been the final moment to give you the confidence to run, to escape but forever looking over your shoulder, forever living in fear.
Terror has taken over your body, not even trying to fight at this point.
"Did you miss me?" his sickly voice whispers in your ear.
Inside you're screaming, begging and pleading but nothing comes out into the silence, just the sound of his harsh, excited breathing.
"I knew I'd find you, knew it wouldn't be long until someone led me to you." 
You could feel your limbs shaking wildly underneath him.
"You knew I'd find you didn't you? You led me here with that photo, I knew you missed me, baby." he kisses your forehead, your skin crawling beneath his lips. 
"I'm going to take my hand away now, you're not going to scream, are you? You're going to be a good girl, aren't you?"
His words twist your insides in the most repulsive way as you nod your head.
His hand comes away, freeing your face and you gasp, desperately filling your lungs with air. 
"It's so good to see your face, baby." 
Your eyes, now adjusted to the dark, could make out his teeth, his lips pulled into a sinister smile.
"Will you at least let me sit up, Yoongi?" you ask, sounding much braver than you feel.
"You're not going to do anything stupid." he orders.
"No." your face is deadpan because it has to be, a slither of anything he deems untoward would make matters much worse for you.
Even as your brain frantically tries to find you a way out, any idea hitting an immediate dead-end, your face remains impassive.
He releases your wrists above your head and slowly climbs off of you, still crouched and ready to pounce should you run. 
You had to be smart about this if you were going to get away, you had to think. THINK! 
"You've been very bad, haven't you? Running from me like that. And I know you like playing games but I've not appreciated this hide and seek exchange between us. Four years I've been searching. That's a long time, baby." his menacing tone has you on edge, wondering just what he is going to do.
"You left me to die." you reply, recalling that night with a chill creeping up your spine. A knife in the back and for what, having said a few too many words to the corner shop owner, like 'how are you?'
You wonder what type of weapon he has on him tonight and you push the thought away.
He stares at you shocked, as if attempted murder is so far fetched from what he's capable of. 
"Who do you think called the ambulance? I would never let you die, I would never let you leave me."
Lies. You knew a passer-by had rung the ambulance, had stayed with you until they came and had waited to hear your prognosis at the hospital. You even met them a few weeks later, when they brought you flowers. But for now he had to think you believed him.
"Is that what they told you?" he leaned in stroking your face and you had to swallow the recoil that your body reacted with.
"Is that why you've been running from me? Oh baby, you should have said and we could have had this all straightened out, wouldn't we, hm?" 
He grips your chin, keeping it aimed directly at him, his fingers just forceful enough to leave bruises.
He watches your mouth, licking his lips. He wants to kiss you and you're preparing yourself for it.
"How many other men have been on these lips? How many have been inside them?" he sneers pushing his thumb, harshly inside your mouth, the taste bitter on your tongue. The Yoongi you know, well and truly here.
"No one."
"Don't lie to me." he squeezes your jaw, pain blazing underneath his fingertips  causing a whimper to escape your lips.
The satisfied look in his eyes has bile rising in your throat.
"I'm not lying. You think I'd want another man anywhere near me." 
He smiles, clearly not catching the bite in your words.
"If I find out different, there's going to be problems." he sing songs. "You understand?"
You nod and he releases your chin, harshly discarding you like a useless piece of meat.
He stands and offers a hand out to help you up. You want to spit at it and slap it out of your face but you shiver at the reaction that would bring.
You take it and he pulls you up, harsher than was necessary but you ignore it. He's on you, stalking towards you, backing you against the hard, wooden panels of the wall behind.
Your heart pounds violently, the sound all you can hear, you can hear your breathing spike as does his. He's excited, but you're trying to survive. 
He closes the small amount of distance between you, his body pressed firmly against yours. One hand grabs your waist, pinning you harshly in place, the other travels to your throat. He keeps it there pressed lightly against your windpipe, not doing any damage but enough to show you the threat that's there. You swallow involuntarily. 
The wind picks up outside and you hear the door wobbling, your attention back on it. How can you get to it? 
You can hit him with something, but it would have to be hard enough to take him down and give you enough of a chance to run. Every thought seemed risky.
"Are you going to be a good girl and come with me willingly?" he raises an eyebrow at you.
"Yoongi, I can't just pick up and leave."
He adds a pressure to throat, fear rising up in you hot and fast.
You put your palms up. "I'm not saying no. I'm saying, I have a job here, people know me. If I get up and leave without a word, they'll think something awful's happened and that'll create problems for us."
He watches you for a moment, eyes thin and suspicious, you can practically see the cogs turning in his mind. "What do you suggest then?" Before you can even open your mouth, he adds. "I'm not leaving you." 
"Why don't you stay here with me for a little while?" you can feel the sweat on the back of your neck, the idea of him being with you any longer than he has been already filling you with absolute horror.
"Then we can announce that I'm moving back with you."
"How can I trust you, after the way you've behaved?" his face is millimetres from yours suddenly, the tips of his noses touching. 
"W-what do you want me to do to prove it to you?" you stammer, losing your composure momentarily.
"Kiss me. Like you used to." he smirks, knowing that towards the end of your relationship, touching him in any way had repulsed you, you hadn't kept that a secret.
You take a breath to steel yourself, if this is what you had to do…
Namjoon's shadowed face captures your attention as it appears just behind Yoongi's head and directly in your line of sight, holding - what looks like - a metal crowbar in the air. He nods to you.
The relief you feel cascades around your body, washing waves of solace through you, your skin tingling as your adrenaline spikes even higher. Everything seems much more hopeful in this moment and you've never been so happy to see Kim Namjoon. 
Your eyes flash back to Yoongi, you could not lose it now, otherwise it's another person to be endangered by him.
You grab either side of his face, tilting your head, he closes his eyes as he prepares for your lips to touch his. He moans from anticipation, the sound bringing a fresh wave of nausea over you.
You meet Namjoon's eyes once more, watch him raise the crow bar higher, preparing to swing…
You push Yoongi's face as hard away from you as fast as you can muster and duck. Your eyes squeeze shut as you hear his gasp and then the noise of the metal connecting with his skull. 
"Run! Go now!" 
You do. Your legs charging forward before you even have a chance to process Namjoon's words to you. You push through the double doors, the cool night air hitting your skin and giving you added power to your legs. You race along the dirt path, hearing the ruckus ensue in the bar. You stop. Namjoon's face bloodied and bruised flashes in front of your eyes. An image you can't escape.
You couldn't leave him to deal with this man alone. You had to face your past. Face him, like you would face anyone else threating your life, or your town, or your friends. You yank out your phone and dial Seokjin's number.
"Do you know what time it is?" his voice thick with sleep sounds on the line.
'Jin, I need you to call the sheriff and come down to the bar! I'm in trouble. Bring your gun!" you hang up not giving him a chance to respond as you race back to Namjoon. 
You throw open the doors and see the two men throwing punches in and out of tight holds as they roll around on the floor. 
How could you get to Yoongi without hurting Namjoon?
You stand hesitating in the doorway.
But watching Yoongi take control and pin him down before connecting punch after punch, the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh, something inside you snaps. 
You charge at him, bringing your foot up to connect with his face, the impact sending him flying backwards. By the sound, you're pretty sure you've broken his nose.
You crouch down to Namjoon as he sits up, wiping his bloody mouth on the sleeve of his plaid shirt.
"You ok?" you ask, eyes wide as they skim over his face, assessing him.
"What are you doing here!?" he exclaims, desperate eyes pleading with you to leave. "I told you to get out of here!"
You want to say so many things in that moment, looking at him and realising; he's got a good heart, even if it is a little misguided at times. Looking at him and realising all the unspoken feelings between you. From the moment you met him, he's been a disaster and every time he tried to be nice and make an effort you violently pushed him away to protect yourself. But you couldn't do it anymore. You cupped his purple marked face in your hand,  wishing you could erase these marks, left because of you.
He leans into your hand, just for a moment before his attention is behind you. Grabbing your waist and pinning you to the floor before spinning on top of you, shielding you from the skull cracking snap of the gunshot. The deafening sound echoing in your ears, as pain sneaks through the hole in your left arm, the one underneath Namjoon's weighted, limp body.
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Six months since the shooting, Christmas day.
Your first Christmas without the thought of Yoongi hanging over your head like a dark cloud, the kind that gives you headaches and makes your mind feel heavy and slow.
Seokjin had gotten there with Sheriff Jungkook just after the first shot rang out. 
You don't remember everything but you do remember hearing the second shot clap like thunder around you, a split second of light illuminating the thick darkness, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground. 
That was it, he was gone, no more looking over your shoulder, no more running and no more fear following you with every decision. The demise of Yoongi. You are free.
You feel lighter as you open the oven and baste the turkey once again.
"When is dinner going to be ready?" Seokjin whines from the sofa.
"Oh, have a little patience." you scold him.
You are more than grateful to have him with you at this time of year, seeing as neither of you have any family here, it's worked out nicely. 
"I see Jimin is doing well after taking over Namjoon's Hotel." he remarks.
You nod. "Yep, business is going well for him. I'm glad. I will miss him at the pub though." 
"What about Namjoon's house?"
Your hand stills, stopping stirring the vegetables bubbling away in the pan and a hard swallow slides down your throat. "What about it?"
"Is it going on the market?"
You glance over and notice him watching you from the corner of his eye.
"I'm not sure, it's not been discussed." 
He nods carefully.
Footsteps down your stairs have your head turning towards them. The sight of him, bare chested, hair swept back effortlessly almost takes your breath away.
"We can discuss it now, if you like?" Namjoon teases you and places a kiss on the side of your head. "Seeing as you keep ignoring my question."
Seokjin sits bolt upright. "What's this? What question?"
You laugh. "Not that question!"
The disappointment across Jin's face is obvious.
"I keep asking her to sell this place and move in with me but I haven't had an answer yet." Namjoon watches you, an arrogant look on his face as he turns towards your guest.
The wrinkled, pink scar on his back greets your view, a perfect circle from where the bullet entered. He was lucky. You'd almost lost him before you even had him, before you realised how much you wanted, needed him. 
You go toward him, wrapping your arms around his stomach. You go on tip-toes to kiss his scar. You match. Two scars in exactly the same place caused by the same person. In a sick way that connected you forever and the thought brought you comfort somehow. 
Namjoon had saved your life, endangering his in the process. Now it's you who would protect him from anything. 
"Yes." you say quietly against his back.
He turns, wrapping you in his arms.
"What?"
You look up at his bewildered face. "Yes, I'll move in with you."
His face blooms into the most beautiful smile, making your insides flutter. He brings his lips crashing down against yours, a kiss that takes your breath away and makes you giddy.
This is the true start to your life, after existing for many years you're now truly living, with the sound of Seokjin's cheers and hollas in the background.
134 notes · View notes
boxesandrings · 3 years
Note
Hello! First off, I simply adore your writing. Your characterizations simply feel so... natural! It's lovely! Second, could I request some fluffy Harvey/Elliott at either the Feast of the Winter Star or the Spirit's Eve festival? That would be grand. Thank you!
Teehee sorry this took so long! I had written a story about the two of them at the Feast of the Winter Star and then hated it so much I completely started over 🤪 So I hope you enjoy this now seasonally appropriate Spirit's Eve fluff!
Title: Meet me Halfway
Rating: G
Summary: Harvey is crushing on Elliott, but is more than okay with keeping things the way they are. When Elliott invites him into the maze at the Spirit's Eve festival though, the men get much closer than Harvey ever thought.
Characters: Elliott, Harvey, Sebastion, Marlon, Maru, F!Farmer
Words: 2841
Harvey had been standing by the refreshments table when Elliott passed behind him, his fingertips lightly grazing against the Doctor's shoulders. Harvey jumped, almost spilling his drink but managed to steady himself, cheeks flushed as Elliott laughed.
“A bit on edge, Doctor?” Harvey cleared his throat and set his cup down, his other hand reaching to the back of his neck.
“No! I mean, kinda. I have to say, I think this is probably my least favorite festival.” Elliott nodded. Harvey studied his face, trying to read the man next to him. Was there a slight blush in his face as well?
Even though they had lived in the same town for years now, only a few months ago had it struck Harvey how cute the man living on the beach was. They had talked a bit around town and at festivals, and of course Harvey was Elliott’s doctor. But since the community center had been restored Harvey had begun to spend more time there, reading articles that his colleagues from the city had sent him or using the craft room to work on his model planes. Elliott was there constantly as well, and the two men began to grow more familiar.
Harvey’s feelings surprised him. It wasn’t that he had never had feelings for another man before, but just how suddenly they had developed after getting to know Elliott was strange to him. Harvey had accepted who he was at this point in his life; he was rigid and methodical, overthinking most aspects of his life. But Elliott had somehow swept in and threw his life out of order— Harvey acted impulsively around him, and it scared him.
But what scared Harvey even more was that he couldn’t tell how Elliott felt about him. Elliott was definitely flirty with him, he couldn’t deny it. But Elliott flirted with everyone, or at least seemed to. Elliott was confident, outgoing, and rather touchy with almost everyone in town. There was no way Elliott felt the same way about him, introverted and anxious, but Harvey couldn’t help but feel the hard thumping in his chest everytime Elliott was around.
Beside him Elliott nodded, scooping some of the hot apple cider Gus was providing into his own cup.
“I can understand that. While I’m sure you’ve caught on that I tend to have a certain… flair for the dramatic,” Elliott regarded Harvey out of the corner of his eye, a coy smile on his lips, “this holiday quite honestly might be overdoing it.”
As if the universe was proving a point, a loud clanging noise rang out behind the men. Elliott’s eyes went wide with fear as he jumped, his body colliding with the Doctor’s as he moved away from the noise. Harvey dropped his drink as he steadied the man in front of him, not sure whether to be disappointed by the loss of his cider or elated by the touch. Once Elliott was no longer falling, Harvey turned to investigate the noise.
Behind him, one of the walking skeletons was at the edge of his cage, a bony arm outstretched and rattling against the bars. Sebastian had fallen back onto the ground and was trying to crawl away from the beast with wide eyes. Marlon stepped in quickly after the skeleton had made its move, pushing the monster further back in with a large stick. Once the skeleton was far enough back, Harvey watched as Marlon offered a hand to Sebastian and pulled the boy up, saying something stern but inaudible from this far away. Harvey turned back to Elliott, who was watching the scene with a grimace.
“You want to move somewhere else? Like, away from this?” Elliott’s gaze snapped back to Harvey, his unsettled look quickly turning into a smile.
“I’d like nothing more, my dear doctor.” Elliott linked his arm through Harvey’s and began to march off, Harvey blushing furiously as he stumbled along.
Elliott led them far away from the refreshments, until Harvey found them standing in front of the maze. Elliott looked toward the entrance, then turned to the Doctor.
“Do you want to go in? I’ve never actually tried the maze before, but with you I’m feeling a little bit more bold.” Elliott winked and Harvey coughed, scratching the back of his neck.
“I’m not sure how much of a help I’d be in there. Honestly, the one time I tried before I barely made it 20 feet.” Elliott laughed.
“Well, maybe with the two of us working together we’d go 30.” Harvey chuckled. Before he could agree, someone called out behind him.
“Hey, Doc! You going in?” Harvey and Elliott turned and saw Maru and the Farmer walking toward them, hand in hand.
“Yes! The two of us are going to try to make it an astonishing 30 feet in.” Elliott had answered before he had gotten the chance to, so Harvey nodded along. Had he really agreed to go in, though? Beside him, he saw Elliott tip an imaginary hat toward the Farmer. “Howdy, partner.”
The Farmer sighed, letting go of Maru’s hand to brush her hand through her hair. “El, just because I live on a farm doesn’t mean I’m a cowboy.” Elliott tilted his head to the side, smiling slightly.
“I mean, you sure ride that horse of yours almost everywhere.” Harvey bit his lip, using the moment to bring himself back to reality. Elliott wasn’t flirting with him, he was like this with everyone. The Farmer sighed again, grabbing Maru’s hand once again.
“Whatever.” She began to pull Maru toward the maze. “Later, losers. We’ve got a maze to finish.” Elliott laughed next to Harvey, and waved the two women off. Maru looked over her shoulder grinning at Harvey, mouthing ‘you got this’ in an animated manner until she disappeared behind the first hedge, trailing after her partner.
Harvey furiously blushed. Maru had figured out his crush weeks ago after the two of them had gone out for drinks after work, when Harvey had been so busy staring at Elliott that he had walked straight into a stool and fallen over it.
“Well, no time like the present, I suppose.” Harvey blinked back to reality. Elliott was standing in front of him, the two men eye to eye. Harvey swallowed.
“I guess.” He put on a weak smile, attempting to feign some kind of confidence. Elliott nodded.
“Then let’s away!” Elliott turned and began to walk toward the maze. Harvey sighed, and followed quickly after.
It wasn’t long until the pair came to the first challenge of the maze. As Elliott and Harvey walked side by side, making pleasant small talk, that green hands began to poke their way out of the ground. Elliott jumped, his body colliding with the Doctor’s.
“Oh, Yoba!” Harvey instinctually grabbed Elliott, pulling him close.
“Oh, no, nope! No. Come on.” Harvey let go of Elliott’s shoulder, his hand grabbing the man around the forearm. He took off down another branch, Elliott running behind him.
Once they no longer saw the hands coming out of the ground, men stopped, panting.
“Okay, I get why you didn’t like to go in here.” Elliott looked up at Harvey, still out of breath. Harvey, unsure of how to react, just began to laugh, dropping to the ground as he tried to regain his composure. Elliott sat beside him, brushing his hair back.
“Yeah! No duh.” Elliott began to laugh as well, the men giggling in the dark. Once composed, Elliott turned to face Harvey.
“You know, I quite like it when you’re more relaxed like this. Not that you’re always stiff, just… you seem like there’s a lot going on in your mind.” Harvey weakly smiled and stood up. He was getting too loose.
“Well, that’s being a doctor, I suppose. Especially being the only one for quite a distance.” He offered his hand to Elliott, who took it and pulled himself up.
“That makes sense. You’re always thinking of others.” Elliott smiled. The two men regarded each other. Harvey found himself getting closer, their bodies almost touching, until he noticed a hedge off in the distance reflecting light. He took a step away.
“Wait, what’s that?” Elliott turned around and tilted his head, searching for what Harvey was referencing. Once spotted, Elliott faced him again.
“I guess we know where to go next.” Harvey nodded, and the two moved toward the light source.
The pair came to a large TV, alternating with static and a series of strange images, weird whispers emanating from the speaker bar attached.
“I mean, it’s not as unsettling as the hands but… I’m not a fan of this either.” Elliott was scanning the TV, frowning.
“I know Lewis is trying to boost tourism, but this seems like a lot,” Harvey added, taking a step closer toward his companion. It was human nature to huddle when scared, right? Elliott surely wouldn’t notice. Harvey thought about how he had held the writer when the hands came out of the ground. As terrifying as that was, he almost wanted to do it again.
“I don’t think Lewis built it. I think the Wizard in the woods said he was doing this,” Elliott suggested. The pair heard a snort and both jumped back, trying to find the source.
Maru stepped out from behind the TV, a funny look on her face. “He’s not a wizard, he’s just some hermit in the woods who likes to play with grass.” Harvey’s shoulders relaxed. It wasn’t a monster, it was his nurse.
“I don’t know. Leah said she’s seen some weird things going on at his tower at night.” Maru snorted again and turned her attention back to the screen.
“He probably has some of those LED strips that change colors on the outside of his home.” Elliott nodded, but didn’t look too convinced.
“Maru, what are you doing just lurking out here? And where’s your girlfriend?” Harvey looked around, making sure the TV was the only horror nearby.
“I wanted to figure out how this is working. There’s no plugs out here, and when I opened the battery compartment it was empty. There has to be some other energy source in here.” Maru held up her pocket knife in one hand, a couple of screws in the other. “And she went on ahead to keep exploring so I could play with this. When I’m done I’ll meet her in the middle point of the maze, it’s just up ahead.” She returned her full attention back to the monitor, walking around it’s backside once again.
Harvey turned to Elliott, who shrugged. “Should we move on?” Harvey smiled.
“Lets.”
From where they were standing, Harvey could see the middle point that Maru had talked about. The pair headed toward the fountain, and paused to watch the water shoot high up into the air.
“Well, I’d venture to say we made it quite a bit farther than 30 feet.” Harvey chuckled as Elliott gently elbowed him.
“Quite a bit farther than I made it last time, for sure.” Harvey smiled at Elliott, then turned his gaze back to the fountain. “I’m surprised it’s already the halfway point. It doesn’t seem like we’ve gone too far.”
“I suppose what this maze lacks in physical size, it makes up for in psychological horror.”
As if on cue, the men heard a yell from beyond the midway, and Abigail ran back in toward them, a blur of purple.
“No way, nuh-uh, nope! I’m out.” She blinked out of her confusion, and looked up at Harvey and Elliott. “Dudes, I’m OUT of here.” Harvey stuck a hand out, trying to stop the teen from bolting past him.
“Woah! Abby, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” He scanned for any obvious signs of injury, his doctor instincts kicking into gear. Abigail was generally fearless, even in regards to her own safety. It took a lot to rattle her.
She looked up at the doctor, her eyes wide with fear. “Dude, I mean Doc, there’s some big spiders back there. Like, me-sized. I’m outta here.” She brushed past Harvey and Elliott, making her way toward the path that the men had just come from. “Good luck!”
Harvey looked toward Elliott, who had noticeably paled. Elliott swallowed, then met the doctor’s gaze. “I mean, making this far was a personal victory anyways? Why push it?”
Harvey stared at Elliott, mouth ajar, before bursting into loud laughter. He sat on the edge of the fountain, trying to take deep breaths to contain his joy.
“Oh thank Yoba, I did NOT want to go in there.” Elliott laughed and sat beside him, his fingertips resting only an inch away from Harvey’s own.
“I think we did very well, though! I mean, halfway is nothing to sneeze at.” Elliott looked toward Harvey and winked. “And you’ve been so brave! Why, the way you rescued me from those hands was quite impressive.” Harvey coughed and stood up, suddenly aware of how close he was to Elliott.
“Yes, well, of course.” Elliott looked up at him, his smile slowly falling. Finally, Elliott sighed.
“I don’t know how much more direct I can be, Harvey.” Elliott’s voice was low, and much more serious than Harvey had ever heard. He turned to Elliott.
“What?” Elliott stood up and crossed his arm over his stomach, nervously rubbing his forearm.
“I mean, I hoped you would have caught on by now, over the past few months, or maybe you have and are just trying to be nice? I don’t…” He trailed off, his gaze lowering toward the ground. “I guess I just like you, Harvey, and I was hoping that by inviting you into the maze with me something would happen, but you keep pulling away and I just… I don’t know.”
Harvey’s jaw dropped. Elliott was flirting with him. Him! And oh Yoba, he had blown it, overthinking each touch, every word, the tone of his voice. Elliott had liked him, and Harvey was too full of fear to do anything. Had Maru known? Is that why she wished him luck?
Harvey sputtered, trying to spit out something, to reassure Elliott. He likes me too. Elliott sighed, meeting Harvey’s eyes again, forcing a smile.
“I’m sorry, that was probably a lot at once. I don’t know why it all came out like that. We can head out if you want.” Elliott took a step back.
Harvey needed to act, to break through his fear. He likes me. Now was not the time to be frozen by indecision, to read far too much into every action. Elliott was there, in front of him now but moving away.
Without thinking, maybe for the first time ever, Harvey reached out and grabbed Elliott’s shoulders, pulling the man in closer to him. Their lips connected, and as Harvey kissed him he could feel his heart beating violently in his chest. Elliott had tensed momentarily when the Doctor had grabbed him, but Harvery could feel him smiling now, melting into the kiss as Elliott placed a hand on the side of his face.
When he pulled back, Harvey was breathless, his hand shaking as he brushed a piece of hair out of Elliott’s face. Elliott was smiling, his cheeks flushed red.
“I like you, a lot, Elliott. I just… I didn’t think you felt the same way.” Elliott laughed quietly, his thumb stroking Harvey’s cheek.
“For such a bright man, you can be awfully dense.” Harvey smiled.
“Yeah.” Harvey moved to kiss Elliott again when he heard something shuffle in the maze behind him.
The men looked toward the path, still holding each other, as the Farmer huffed out of the maze, holding a rather large pumpkin in her hands.
“It’s just a pumpkin! I had to make my way through all that for a pumpkin! And not even a special one like last year, it’s made of foam!” She looked up, her expression softening when she realized what she had walked into. “Oh, um.”
“Maru’s back at the TV still,” Elliot said, his hands not moving from Harvey’s face. The Farmer’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two men’s faces, trying to press her lips together to stop from smiling.
“Thanks. Uh… yeah.” The Farmer walked quickly toward the way back, passing the men with a poorly suppressed smile on her face. Harvey figured she’d break the news to Maru as soon as she saw her.
“Well, where were we?” Harvey turned his attention back toward Elliott, who was smiling warmly at him. Harvey bit his lip, smiling.
“Oh, yeah.” He kissed Elliott again, much calmer than before, enjoying the feeling of their lips touching. Harvey pulled back again. “Want to go back and get a drink? I spilled my cider earlier”
Elliott dropped his hands from Harvey’s face and laced his fingers between the Doctor’s. “I’d love nothing more.” The two men went back into the hedges, hands swinging between them as they made their way back through the maze.
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haru-sen · 3 years
Text
SW/IAL Mandalorians
Thanks to the usual suspects for their interference.  Less dark than Imperial Forces, still with the usual amount of sex and violence.  Feel free to let me know which Star Wars AU is making you happier.  I’m playing with both, IAL, and finally actually working on the original piece.  Same disclaimer, set during vanilla SWTOR, Knight Strike is not the PC Jedi Knight, but is adjacent to PC storylines.  I still haven’t played SWTOR in awhile, so some details may be wrong.  Don’t come at me.  I’m too tired. 
“Woman, if you’d come dressed correctly, I might have been more inclined to hear your suit,” the Orgo the Hutt, stretched out on its massive throne.  The massive slug-beast crammed a handful of screeching fish into its maw. “But I have no interest in Jedi or Republic politics.”  He yawned loudly.  “Maybe ask Palaya to find you a nice dancing outfit.” He gave a gurgling laugh and gestured to the blue Twi’lek woman lounging beside him.  “Maybe then I will be more interested in meeting with you.”  
You gritted your teeth, feeling the numerous blasters aimed at your back.  There was nothing wrong with your gray and white robes.  You were here on official business. “Wise Orgo, I apologize if my attire has given offense,” you said, trying for your best serene and unbothered expression, the one you used when dealing with the Council. “But this is not politics, this is business.”  
“And it is bad business to be entertaining pretty Jedi,” he laughed.  “Pretty Jedi should be entertaining Orgo!”
He was dead.  Everyone here was dead.  They just didn’t know it yet.  Orgo the Hutt?  Grease paste.  The handsy Gammorean bodyguards? Pieces, that’s all that was going to be left.  The swaggering mercs, snickering in the shadows, thinking their numbers would keep them safe?  You could make a pyramid of heads when you were done with them.  You were tired of this nonsense.  You had tried diplomacy, now you could go straight to violence and-
Palaya stared blankly ahead, adorned in a blue and gold mesh dancer’s outfit, a gold chain around her neck.  
You inhaled slowly, remembering that there were slaves, bystanders, innocent civilians on site. You could not kill everyone, rather you damn well better not kill everyone, and the fact that your mind was going there was a very bad sign.  In fact, if Master Amari found out, she’d lock you in the temple meditation chambers for the next decade.  
“I would be amenable to a private business meeting, Great Orgo,” you said, sounding absolutely calm.
A shifty-eyed human man leaned over and whispered something to Orgo.  
“A warrior Jedi?  With such a high bounty?  Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Orgo laughed, rolls of skin shaking.  “I would be happy to accommodate such a gift! What good business!”  
You shifted instinctively, preparing to start cutting down guards.
And then the floor dropped out from under you.  
Orgo laughed as you fell into the pit below.  
Snarling, you somersaulted downward, torches lighting the sandy area, another seven meters down. It stunk of rotten meat and feces, but worse was the festering corruption that hung over the sand like a miasma.  It was nauseating, and your vision went fuzzy for a moment. You landed in the soft sand, in a holding cell. The wall behind you was solid stone, but the ceiling was open. The sides were four meters high, thick, metal grates with very narrow openings. You drew your lightsabers, preparing to cut through the walls.  
“Filte says you are worth more alive,” Orgo called down.  “So don’t try to escape, little Jedi.  Or Teteta will have to eat you, and he is very hungry.”  
The trapdoors slammed shut, leaving the room barely lit by torchlight, and you caught sight of the thing lumbering around the other part of the pit. Howling, it lunged at your cage, clawed hands too thick to reach through the bars.  
It was a spiky bipedal creature, thickly-built and easily two and a half meters tall and meter and half wide, with massive horns and spines coming out of its head and back.  It charged forward, trying to ram down the door.  That was all bad enough, but the thing oozed dark side energy.  And then you knew exactly what it was.
Orgo the Hutt had a pet terentatek. They were mutant Dark-side monsters with a taste for force-sensitive flesh and a strong resistance to your powers.  Allegedly created by Exar Kun, they hunted Jedi, and were very good at it.  Theron hadn’t said a damn thing about terentateks!  
Backing up, you pulled your comm unit out of a robe pocket.  “Hey, it’s me.  Things went bad.”  
“Query: Oh? Are all the other meatbags dead? Did something similar happen to the little meatbags? Are they even littler meatbags now?” HK’s hologram popped up.  
“...No,” you sighed.  “I have to deal with a terentatek now. And don’t you start on me, HK.  I was supposed to do this peacefully. Remember? The Jedi Council, potential impending suspension, kidnapped children.  We went over this already.”  
“Evaluation: It is as you say, Master,” HK-53 said snidely.  “But the Jedi Council isn’t trapped there in the cage facing a terentatek.”  
“...I’ll be sure to put that in my report,” you said, squinting at the droid over the connection. “If you can try to discretely clear the secondary route, I’m going to get out of here.”
“Encouragement: Don’t forget, those spines and tusk are venomous, Master,” HK-53 said a little too cheerfully.  “But I’m sure you’ll do fine.  If you don’t, I will definitely kill everyone in the building to avenge you.”  
“HK-”  You shook your head. “At least don’t kill the civilians.”
“Evasion: I can’t hear you, Master! I am too busy discretely killing everyone in the way!”  And with that, the comm link cut.  
...Sithspit.  
Give the fact you had just entertained similar thoughts, you could not really judge him.  You were supposed to know better, the bodyguard/assassin droid was just programmed that way. Maybe you had been spending too much time with your droid, but you didn’t have any other backup for these situations.  Not any more.
Looking around, you studied the room.  There was another empty cell adjacent to you, and on the next wall, there were two more cells, and there was a heavily-armored man in each of them.  The terentatek had stopped slamming into your cell, and was now pacing furiously in front of it.  
“Hey,” you shouted.  
They turned, and you recognized those T-shaped visors on their Beskar helmets.  One had bright blue armor, the other black with a white skull face painted on it. Mandalorians.  Hmm.  
You flicked your sabers on, the silver beams casting eerie shadows.  
“What do you want, witch?” Skull asked, his voice strangely smooth behind a vocoder.  
“Do you want out?” You asked.
“Might be smarter to stay in here, away from that thing,” Blue said, with an easy laugh.  
Caution?  From a Mandalorian?  What were the odds? Today was really not your day.  
“It’s more interested in me than you,” you said.  “Do you want out or not?”  
“What’s your plan, witch?” Skull asked.
“I get you out of your cells, you get that main door open, and hopefully that hall narrows to a chokepoint so it can’t follow us out.”  
The two men muttered quietly between themselves.  You gathered your energy, aiming for the wall that divided your cell from the one next door.  It was not high enough to get a normal person to the trapdoor overhead -  you could jump, but you probably could not force it open from this side. Better to take the exit across the pit. You leapt, propelled upward by the force, and you reached out, gloved hands catching the top of the wall.  You pulled yourself up. It was only a handspan thick, so you balanced carefully, watching the terentatek throw its head back and roar.  
“Have you come to a decision yet, gentlemen?” You shouted.
“Fine,” Skull said.  “We can group up, for now.”  
“Do you know where the keys are?” You asked.  
“Do we look like we know how a Hutt arranges his torture dungeon?” Skull snapped.  
“...Maybe?” You shrugged. Mandalorian mercs weren’t uncommon.  They would have fit right in with the other riffraff in Orgo’s throne room.  
“Most of our weaponry is on the other side of the gate,” Blue told you, gesturing to the exit.  
“Don’t tell her that,” Skull growled.  
Well, you had not actually expected them to be much help against the terentatek.
“Stand back,” you told them, waiting for them to move away from the front of the cages. And then you threw a saber, the bright light arcing downward through the shadows.  Cutting precisely through the grate took focus.  The saber hovered in front of Blue’s cage, cutting a meter high circle in the metal.  Already, sweating, you hissed as the terentatek -likely feeling your power draw- charged your cage, rattling the grate.  
The lightsaber dropped, the circle not quite formed.  Teeth clenched, you reached out, hand shaking a little as you lifted the saber from the ground and finished the hole.  Panting, you had to drop it again, making sure to shut it down so no one got hurt.  Blue then pulled the cut-out portion into his cage, grabbed your saber, put the grate back, and gave you a thumbs up.
You squinted at him, wondering if the Mandalorian thought he could collect your weapon that easily.  
He deployed the saber, nearly jumping as the beam shot out.  Chuckling, he began to slowly cut through the wall between his cell and Skull’s.  
“Be careful with that,” you said, watching his hands shake. “Where can I get one of these?”  Blue asked, as he cut an unsteady shape.  
“If she dies, you can keep that one,” Skull said, sounding almost happy.    
Charming.  You rolled your eyes.
Blue stepped back, and Skull kicked the metal, knocking it out.  
“Let’s move out!” Blue said, waving at you.  
“Just stay out of my way.”   Skull went first, heading to the wall, looking for a way to open the door.
The terentatek was still banging against your cage, not noticing the men emerging from their cells.  You flicked sand at it, trying to hold its attention.  It shrieked at you angrily.   You scanned the darkness, hoping to find a pile of poo to fling...
“I got this,” Blue muttered, as he started using your saber to start cutting through the door.  
At the sound of a human voice coming from a different space, the terentatek whirled, roaring.  
“Din ferrik, Ja’ak!” Skull hissed.  
“Shab!” Blue muttered as he dragged the blade through the metal, trying to go faster, but not entirely able to control the lightsaber.
Skull started kicking the portion of the door, metal clanging.  
The terentatek lumbered toward them.
They were going to die.  Yes, they were dumb, and it was their own damn faults, but in recruiting them, you had signed these idiots’ death warrants. Mandalorians or not, you should not have involved them.  
You took a deep breath, running through your options.  You were not equipped to take down a terentatek today. You could try Ataru form – but you would be drained afterward.  Niman would have been better to keep it distracted, but that idiot had your other lightsaber and the Sixth Form required two lightsabers.  Ataru, then.  The Fourth Form was meant to be used against a single opponent: the stance took a lot of energy, but you needed to move fast.  You opened your mental channels, drawing more power from the force.  Strength began to pour into your limbs.  
You threw back your head and roared – to get its attention- before diving off the cage walls at the monster.  You drove your saber into the terentatek’s spiny back, before kicking off the shoulder plate, narrowly avoiding a spiked elbow.  You flipped backward, senses ablaze.  
Blue was almost through the door. Skull was standing there staring up at you.  
The terentatek swung, with claws as thick as your forearm, and narrowly missed your head.  You landed in a crouch and rolled sideways as it stomped toward you, Mandalorians forgotten.  
This was not a duel.  This was a battle of attrition.  You had to whittle it down, and you had to be fast.  Swinging your single saber, you sliced across its left arm, chitinous spikes dropping into the sand.  Blood and ichor spurted from the wound.  Shrieking, it charged you again, that thick darkness assailing your senses.   You dodged, still managing to keep away from its claws.  But the terentatek was still between you and the door.  
“Get to cover, witch!”  
Bright bolts of blaster fire tore through the room.  Sithspit, Ataru was not a defensive form.  You could try to deflect bolts, but your focus was on the abomination. Still, you went low, hoping to avoid friendly fire.  
The terentatek screamed as it lunged for you.  Blasterfire was not enough to stop it.  Even as you rolled through the sand, those talons sliced through your robes and into your back, your blood already burning.  
“Fall in!” Blue shouted.  
You scrambled forward, teeth clenched as Blue grabbed your wrists and dragged you through the broken door and into a stone hallway, Skull on your heels, still firing through the hole in the grate at the beast.   It was too small for the creature to get through
“That door is compromised. It won’t hold it for long,” Skull said.
“Back exit,” you muttered. “Should be unguarded-”
“His usually isn’t,” Blue laughed, as he handed you your other saber.
“Shut up,” Skull said, and you could hear the scowl through the helmet.  
You just shook your head, trying to focus on the venom already pulsing through your veins.  You needed to cleanse your blood, but you weren’t much of a healer.  Still, you could push out the poison.  Panting, you leaned against the wall, unclean blood pouring out of your back.  
“She’s hit,” Skull said. “Hurry up.  We don’t have a lot of time.”  
“Time to heal up,” Blue told you, hitting you with a kolto shot.  “You are going to have some impressive scars.”
You shuddered, still feeling some of the poison in your system.  But you could move.  “Escape tunnel should be in the southwestern corner.”
The Mandalorians nodded, and the three of you started running down the hall.  
A Gammorean stepped in your way, but Skull raised his two large scatterguns, and suddenly there wasn’t anything in your way.  There was a large messy puddle to run through, and you kept your mouth closed, a bloody mist still hovering in the air.  
There was more screaming behind you, as the terentatek smashed through the pit doors.   You stumbled, but Blue grabbed your arm, pulling you along.
There were more screams in front of you, and Skull raised his scatterguns.  
“Query: Maaaaaaaster, are you dead?  If you’re dead, I get to kill everyone else!” HK-53 called out, his voice echoing through the halls.   More shots fired, screams abruptly cutting off.  
“No, I’m alive,” you shouted back.  “And don’t shoot the men with me.”
HK-53 rounded the corner, blaster rifle raised.   “Excitement: Oh Master, I am relieved to see you in one piece,” he said so stoically, it couldn’t be anything, but sarcasm.
“Why does a Jedi have a Hunter-Killer droid?” Skull asked, his voice low and suspicious.  
“Intimidation: Because before my last master expired violently, he willed me to her, and we have been very active ever since,” HK-53 said.  “Now, if I can’t shoot them, can I use-?”
“HK, leave them alone. I need to find those kids and get out of here,” you sighed.
“Explanation: Oh, bad news, Master,” HK-53 said with exaggerated sympathy. “They’re already gone.  Orgo shipped them out last night.  This whole trip was a waste of time!”  He cackled.  
Scowling, you grabbed HK-53’s arm.  “Where?”
“Master, if you insist on clinging to me, I can’t fight properly,” HK-53 said.  “They’re off Taris and on their way to Nar Shaddaa.  I sliced the records for you – we can look at them later, when we’re not killing our way through a Hutt’s basement.”
You followed HK-53 through a cleared path, seeing over a dozen smoking bodies along the way.  The Mandalorians kept you between them and your murder-happy droid.  
The sunlight was a relief as you stumbled out the door.  It didn’t smell like death and rot out here, and you were far enough away from the corrupt influence of the beast that you could breathe comfortably again.  Of course, you would have to come back here and finish it off.  You could not let a terentatek live. But that was a problem for later. “Come on, this way,” Blue said, tugging your arm.  
“Master, we can get to the spaceport-”
“She’s been poisoned,” Skull said.  “We can try to fix her up at camp, or you can cart a dead Jedi off to Nar Shaddaa.”
HK-53 looked you over.  “Smuggery: I told you they were venomous.  If you die, can I kill these meatbags?”
“No HK, and I do not have the patience for this,” you growled, staggering forward. “We need to get to Nar Shaddaa-” You said, before falling over, your legs no longer responding to your orders.  “Sithspit,” you muttered, twitching in the dirt.  
“Stupid witch,” Skull said, bending over you.  
And then everything faded away.
** “How can they just sit back and do nothing?” You snarled, pacing in front of the fountain.  “No, this is worse than nothing.  Not only are they doing nothing, they’re arguing over whether or not they should punish me for doing something!” You threw your arms up in frustration.  “They’re the ones who sent me to Alderaan!”
“Yes, to Alderaan, not to Balmorra, nor Nar Shaddaa, and certainly not Corellia,” Master Amari said, sitting back on the bench, expression dangerously placid. With her striking blue robes, gold jewelry, and tattoos, she looked more like an elegant noblewoman than a Jedi Master.  “You were just supposed to find out what happened to Master Nomen Karr, not follow in his footsteps.”  
You squinted at her.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He always had a hard time staying away from the war,” Master Amari said.  “I am not saying we cannot be involved in conflict. I agree with you, we have an obligation to use our powers responsibly.  But Nomen Karr loved to fight, and he held a deep hatred for the Empire.  He could not let that go, and it ruined him.”  
That she didn’t just come and say the obvious thing both reassured you and infuriated you.  No one wanted to talk about what happened, not even you, but seeing your Master shy around the topic made you angrier than you expected.  
You had to remember to breathe.  “I don’t hate the Empire,” you said.  “It’s too broad a construct.”
“Semantics, Strike.  You know you’re not supposed to be in contact with certain people. But still you obsessively track Lord Talon.  You repeatedly undertake unsanctioned missions for SIS in exchange for data on him. You keep that abominable droid in your living quarters,” Master Amari’s voice was gentle.  “That may not be hatred, but given all that has happened, it certainly is enough to make me worry about you.”  
“HK can’t help the way he was programmed,” you muttered, because she wasn’t wrong. HK-53 was an absolute bastard to everyone.  “And I got official approval to embed with Delta Squad.”  
“...After you ignored three summons to return to Coruscant,” Master Amari said, shaking her head.  
“Must have gotten lost in transmission,” you muttered.  “Still not enough to warrant an entire meeting about my conduct.”  
“You know that isn’t the only thing on the table,” Master Amari said sternly.  
“I was cleared of any wrongdoing months ago,” you said sharply.  
“Yes,” Master Amari nodded. “And I agree, what happened was not your fault in the least.  I just wish you could see that and step away for a moment.”  
You flinched.  “I’m the one with the best chance-”
“Of getting dragged under with him,” Master Amari said.  “You’re already struggling, we both know it.”  
You inhaled deeply.  You wanted to go back to the front.  You couldn’t sit here in the temple, meditating on peace, while Lord Talon and his apprentice were out there slaughtering more people.  But now that you were back on Coruscant, the Council seemed damn keen on keeping you there.
“You did a lot of good and made some important allies during your military tour, Strike.  If you want to go back out in the field, it is not out of the question,” Master Amari said, adjusting the hood of her robes.  “And I don’t disagree with your reasoning.  I also think you are the one with the best chance to stop him.  But you’re not in the right spot mentally to do it yet and I am very worried about you, as my friend.”  
You groaned, because she was right. And when she was this honest, you couldn’t be mad at her. This wasn’t her mess.  She was the one who taught you that it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission, but Master Amari had a finesse that you lacked.  She certainly didn’t get a whole Council convened because of her “questionable conduct.”  
“They’re trying to make an example out of me,” you said, with a scowl.
“Which will backfire, as long as you behave yourself,” she said sternly.  “You are a decorated war hero.  There’s an entire subset of delinquent padawans who want to be the next Knight Strike, and it is infuriating several of my peers. On top of that, they have to sit there calmly, pretending like they aren’t outraged.  Plus the Republic military is impressed with your work and is pushing for even more joint operations,” she laughed softly.  “And because of that, this has become political. I am just reminding you to be more diplomatic with the High Council.  You have allies there: don’t alienate them.”  
She was right.  Master Lacroix had requested a meeting beforehand.  He was not on the High Council, but he likely would be some day soon. And he was the one who warned you about the potential pending disciplinary charges.  He was also the one who might have suggested rotating comm frequencies and upping your encryption standards during your travels, so the official High Council summons to return to Coruscant never reached you.  
“You’re not alone in how you feel, and you’re absolutely right, they are indecisive, cloistered, and afraid: I don’t blame them.  They’re responsible for the future of the entire Order, and all the lives in their jurisdiction. We are weak right now. We can’t afford to just throw good Knights into a meat grinder. We’ve lost enough already. We can’t afford to lose you too.” She leaned forward.  “And this war has taken its toll on you, Strike.  The violence, the death, the guilt, our losses: you’re balanced on a knife’s edge, and we both know it.”  She looked at you, solemn as you had ever seen her.  “If you fall, I will be the one they send after you.”  
You blinked.  Because of course Master Amari noticed.  You wondered about Master Lacroix.  The consular was a subtle man, shrewd and political as any SIS operative. He had to see the signs too.
“...Master Amari,” you said, giving a formal bow.  “If I fall, it will not be because of anything you or the Council did.  It will not be something you can prevent, unless you plan on locking me up for the rest of my life. If I fall, it will be because there is something out there worth saving, that is more valuable than myself and the Jedi Council’s ideals.”
Master Amari nodded. “I know you see it that way, but if you fall, will you still be able to protect that thing that matters so much to you?  You saw how it went.  I doubt that was the expectation at the time.”  
You thought back to that terrible day on Corellia.  “I don’t know.  I wasn’t able to last time.” You stared up at the sky.  “I suppose that’s why I keep HK-53 so close now.”  
**
You stood in the Council Chambers, shoulders square, in your gray and white robes, your twin sabers on your belt.  You bowed your head respectfully to the Council, gaze flicking to Master Lacroix who stood by the door. He sat there, hood up, face inscrutable, as always.  
“Knight Strike, it is good to have you back on Coruscant,” the Barsen’thor told you, with a smile and a wink.  She had been one of your fellow padawans on Tython, and had fought on Corellia. She had spoken in your defense at the first inquiry.  She had dealt with similar issues in the past, though of a more exotic and conspiratorial nature than your own.  
You allowed yourself a smile in return.  You knew whose side she was on.
“It is always nice to see you,” you told her.
“This is a High Council meeting, not a class reunion,” Master Nobil said coolly.
“It is good to see you too, Master Nobil,” you said, politely.  
You didn’t actually hear the Barsen’thor laugh, but you could feel it.
“I’m afraid we might have to skip the opening formalities today, Knight Strike.  But rest assured, we are all pleased to see you standing here in Coruscant, in person,” Grandmaster Satele Shan said.  She stood there in her plain brown robes, dark hair pulled back in her customary braids, those pale blue eyes piercing your mask of civility.  Shan knew exactly what you were about, and she would only tolerate it to a point.    
You bowed.  
“Today, we have convened to discuss the appropriate outcome for your nontraditional approach to acquiring intelligence on Master Nomen Karr.  While we appreciate you finding out the actual details, you certainly took a...circuitous route.”
“Are we not going to talk about-” Nobil began.
“No,” Grandmaster Shan said firmly.  “That issue was settled months ago.  Knight Strike bears no fault there, and there is no need to rehash that.”  
Nobil did not quite sulk, but he crossed his arms and stared very hard at you, like you were a padawan who was lifting extra desserts.  
“Now, what do you have to say about your...unorthodox method of intelligence gathering, Knight Strike?”  Grandmaster Shan asked.  
“The Force works in mysterious ways,” you said, with a bow.  
Grandmaster Shan sighed.  “Don’t be coy.”
“My apologies, Grandmaster,” you said. “I do not wish to deflect from my own responsibility in the matter, but I do wish to state that I did not simply go rogue. I-”
“-Had tacit support from a number of Masters, some of them in this room?  I am aware,” Grandmaster Shan said archly, giving numerous people hard looks.  “And that issue has been discussed as well. And I agree, it would not be fair to punish you for taking poor counsel from your superiors.”  She looked around the room, expression severe.  
“What would you have me say then, Grandmaster?” You asked, because of course she already knew almost everything.  Most of it had already come out in the first inquest. “Why am I here?”  
“Originally, we had considered issuing consequences for your unsanctioned foray.  However, in light of your honorable service and your resilience in the face of darkness, I don’t believe any further disciplinary measures will be necessary.  So no, that is not why I have asked you here today.” She leaned forward.  “How familiar are you with the Tarisian branch of the Exchange?”
You blinked, not expecting that question.   “Orgo the Hutt is in charge of that sector.  He has alarmingly friendly relations with the Empire,” you said, raising your head.  “He especially likes exporting Sithspawn, rakghouls, and other abominations for the private menageries of Sith Lords.  His personal habits are...not fit to mention in polite company.”  
“What about the Balmorran branch of the Exchange?  Where do their loyalties lie?”
“That’s more complicated. Breaking the blockade is a lucrative business, and they’re happy to play both sides,” you said with a shrug.  “They import much-needed food, medicine, and other basic commodities in exchange for a cut of the weaponry produced on the planet.  Then they sell it to the highest bidder.  Balmorra is a competitive market: no one who wants to stay on top can pick a side.  Profits are the driving force and their black market goods are integral to the population’s survival.”  
Grandmaster Shan nodded.  
“What about the slave markets of Nar Shaddaa?”  
“...I have been,” you said tightly.
“Could you go again?”
“If it is necessary, I could go in quietly. I could also go in...less quietly.”  You smiled slightly at the thought of letting HK-53 loose on the slavers.  
Grandmaster Shan gave you a disapproving look, like she had picked up your exact thoughts. Which, given her powers, she probably had. “...And what would you say of the criminal known as Rogun Matt’rik?”  She asked you.  
“For a man called “the Butcher,” his sandwiches aren’t very good.”  You shrugged.  
There was a low murmur.  
“You have...shared meals with Rogun the Butcher?”  Grandmaster Shan’s expression was too calm. You knew, from experience, that meant you were getting to her.  Which was an accomplishment, though of dubious value.  You did not need to get slapped back down to Tython. You needed to stop taunting the Grandmaster.  
“Nothing fancy, obviously. We have worked together on occasion. He is a crime lord and not really someone you should eat with, unless you’re stuck in the trenches and can’t really get out because there are Imperial forces strafing you, and you’re the one reinforcing the shield that’s keeping everyone alive,” you said, after a moment.  “But he’s one of the few who is loyal to the Republic, and puts that loyalty a little bit ahead of his profits.  If the SIS-” you paused, wondering if Satele knew how often you worked with her son.  “-doesn’t know something, Rogun can often find it out.”  
“You admit to associating with criminals of that notoriety?” Master Nobil asked, outraged.  
“He says, I’m a good influence on him,” you said.  “For the record, I have talked him out of killing several people.”  That was true.  If they were useful, he turned them over to the SIS.  It was a moral grey zone, you understood.  But Rogun knew better than to do certain things in front of you. And if he had a Sith problem, well, you could help him out with that.  It was mutually beneficial for you, him, and the Republic.
“Well then, this has been very enlightening, Knight Strike.”  Grandmaster Shan touched her forehead, like maybe she was getting a headache. “I have to agree with Master Nobil, you are walking a dangerous line.” There was concern in her tone.  “But I am afraid we have no choice, you are the best candidate for this mission, and it is an urgent matter.”  
You straightened up.  “What?”
“That isn’t to say that we can condone your unorthodox behaviors, Knight Strike.  I think you know that we have been very close to taking disciplinary action,” Grandmaster Shan said sternly.  “But as you said, the Force works in mysterious ways.”  She leaned forward.  “As you are undoubtedly aware, the Sith Academy on Korriban is always taking in more force-sensitive individuals, as they kill them at an alarming rate.”
You nodded.  
“There have been a string of child abductions in Republic space– Exchange thugs killing entire families to abduct the younglings before we can get to them.  We’re not exactly sure how they’re finding them first, but we’ve lost over a dozen juvenile candidates before they are ever properly assessed or invited to Tython.  Some of them have been spotted in the markets on Nar Shaddaa, in the company of Orgo the Hutt’s men.  We need this to stop.”  
You stood there for a moment.  Orgo was middleman.  If Orgo wasn’t doing the trade, someone else would step up.  Whoever was picking the younglings was force-sensitive or had access to the candidate lists that the Council kept.  Given the fact, the children were being taken before any official assessment was done, it was likely that you were dealing with a Sith with an eye for talent.  The mission parameters were clear: Find the Sith, destroy the relevant Exchange infrastructure in the process, and retrieve the children.  
“I understand,” you said with a bow.
**
Once you had the details, you sat down in Master Lacroix’s office, making several calls.  You would be heading for Taris tomorrow.  
“I realize you’re frustrated,” Lacroix said, sitting down at his desk, lowering his hood.  He was a slender middle-aged human, with a ridiculous fondness for his mustache.  “But it was unwise to antagonize her like that.”
“I know,” you said, tilting your chair back.  “But I’ve been rotting here for over a year-”
“You haven’t been locked in the temple.  You’ve been going down to the lower levels and picking fights,” he said with a frown.  
“Gotta keep my skills sharp,” you said with a shrug.  “There are too many gangs.  Law enforcement can’t keep up and sometimes they’re just as bad.”  
Lacroix sighed heavily.  “That isn’t the point, Strike.  You and I both know that.”
“If I’m such a danger, why did you nominate me to take this mission?”
Lacroix chuckled, because he knew that you would figure it out.  “Because you have the skills and the contacts, and a deeper interest in the perpetrators,” he said, pouring himself a drink.  “But also, I have been thinking on your personal problems, and I may have a solution.”
“Which one?  How I have a slew of moralistic busybodies probing and questioning my every action?”  
Lacroix rolled his eyes.  “Don’t be silly. They aren’t aware of half the things you get up to.  Do you honestly think you would be getting away with this slap on the wrist if they did know?”
He had you there.  You waved your hand, for him to continue.
“I think you know, Lord Talon is likely involved,” he said.  “Though perhaps you should wait till you’re off-world to give any evidence of that connection.  They won’t send you if they suspect his presence.”  
You nodded.  “I wasn’t enough to stop him last time.”  You stared at the floor for a moment, feeling sick.  “But I’ve been training harder.  I’m better than I was a year ago.  I don’t know if it’s enough, but it will have to be.”  
“I know you’ve improved, but I don’t think killing Talon should be your priority,” Lacroix said.  “I think we both know that.”  
“...Obviously. But I don’t know if there’s any way for me to get through to-”
“There might not be, and you need to go in there knowing that you can try, and there may be a miracle, but it’s been a year.  If things were going to change, they would have already.  He hasn’t contacted you. You don’t bear any more responsibility in this, other than to stop Talon.”
“It’s not that easy and you know it,” you growled.  
“It’s not, but that’s the truth.”  Master Lacroix stared off to the side for a moment.  “You and I have both seen people fall.  The change is often so drastic and immediate, it is understandably terrifying.  People who were compassionate, funny, and logical suddenly become vicious, cruel, and homicidal.  It is hard to see a fall as anything but a catalyst for madness.”
You closed your eyes.  “I know it’s not something we can magically reverse.”
“But it is something we might be able to guard against. I have a hypothesis,” he said, eyeing you shrewdly.  
“And I’m your test subject?”
“You are the one who might benefit most from this knowledge,” he said.  “The cause of this massive reversal is likely because certain Jedi have spent so long being a conduit for the force, for the lighter half, that they are overwhelmed by the sudden imbalance.  It is like...wine rushing into an empty glass.”  He set one in front of you to demonstrate. “It splashes and forcefully displaces the air. Whereas, if you already have some liquid within, the result is not so volatile.  I wonder if dealings with the darker aspects could play out similarly.  And since you have some experience managing these situations, perhaps you would not fall as hard.”
“This is heresy,” you said, as he handed your cup.  “Tell me more.”  
“Yes, it is, isn’t it? You have heard of Gray Jedi?”
“Aren’t they just Jedi who don’t like how restrictive the High Council is?”  You asked. “They get married, they go to war, they wear gray…”  
“Maybe “Dark Jedi” is a more accurate term,” Lacroix said, clasping his hands together.  “But yes, depending on practices, they are viewed as a heretical offshoot, even a danger to the order of the Order.  I have met a few in my travels, on both the Sith and Jedi sides.”  
You studied his thoughtful expression as you sipped the wine.  “I have also met Light-leaning Sith.”  
“Then you understand how...the balance of the Force is not always so clearly delineated,” Lacroix told you.  “We are taught to be vessels of light, not how to manage our own darkness.  It is a mistake, in my opinion.  But Gray Jedi walk that line, and more interestingly, they can tap into both light side and dark side abilities.”  
“So are you trying to get me to prove your thesis?”
“I think you are a very capable knight going into some very trying and uncertain circumstances.  I think you are off-balance, and that this is a dangerous time for you, for many reasons.  But I also don’t think we can accomplish anything by keeping knights like you locked up in temples.”  He regarded you gravely.  “I wanted to remind you that your choices are not binary.  That you can always forge a different path, no matter what the Order has told you.  If you fall from grace, you don’t have to land in darkness.”  
“And yet, you still want me to go out there, knowing the Council would disapprove if they had more details and knowing that I’m in rough shape,” you laughed. “You’re a real bastard, Master Lacroix.”  
“You’ve always known this.” He raised his cup, smiling sardonically at you.  “And yet it’s my counsel you sought out.”
“I’m known for my questionable decision-making and unorthodox behavior.  What’s your excuse?”
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ambrosiadreamer · 3 years
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*RATTLES THE BARS OF MY CAGE FURIOUSLY* ILLINOIS WOULD BE SO GOOD FOR A TOP AND BOTTOM FANG EDIT BUT THERE’S NO GOOD STILLS TO DO IT WITH 
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thinkyoureholy · 4 years
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Soul Eater [15]
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Pairing : Jung Yunho / [fem] Reader
Genre : Angst, Violence, Lamguage, Fluff, Smut, Character Death, Demon! AU
Words : 4.4k
Previous Part. - Next Part.
[warning :mentions of domestic abuse ahead!]
≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪
-Y/N’s P.O.V-
I pounded on the bars of the cage as hard as I could but they wouldn’t budge, they hardly even rattled. I let out a cry of frustration, sinking to the ground. I bit down on my bottom lip harshly, drawing blood.
“Wrath! You bastard! You’ll pay for this I swear it!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.
It was pitch black all around me, not a single ray of light anywhere to be seen. I hugged my knees to my chest, burying my face into my knees as I tried to keep my mind busy. I knew what this would lead to and it scared me more than anything. Everything that had been going on had distracted me from my thoughts, the memories I was trying to run from but now--now I can hear them crawling their way out. I shook my head to rid myself of them, clasping my hands over my ears to block out his voice but it was no use.
~
“Y/N...what are you doing? Didn’t you hear me ask you to bring me a mug of ale?” He asked.
I jumped at the sound of his voice muttering an apology under my breath, bringing the ale over to him. I went to leave but before I could he had reached out and grabbed me, his fingers weaving through my hair. He gave a hard tug, pulling at my hair from the roots. A whimper fell from my lips, my vision blurring as tears filled my eyes but I willed them not to fall. He pulled once more, a cry leaving my mouth this time. 
He drew me closer to him, his lips inches from mine, “Don’t ever make me repeat myself again, do you understand?”
I nodded but that only made him pull harder, the pain almost unbearable but it was nothing compared to what he could really do.
“Speak.”
“Yes. I’m--I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” I answered, my voice trembling.
“You better hope it doesn’t...for your sake.” He hissed before letting me go.
……
He chuckled darkly as I held the poker that we used to tend to the fire in between us. I was unsteady in my hold, my entire body shaking but I refused to back down. He had come home drunk from the local tavern and when I had asked him why he was gone for so long he snapped at me. His drunken self was worse than his sober self and that’s saying something. I couldn’t quite figure out why but he seemed to be stronger when he was drunk so his hand was much much heavier when he was intoxicated. I usually just silently take it because if I resist it’s just so much worse but tonight I couldn’t. If I let him go on any longer then he’d break me for sure. I had grabbed the poker on instinct but not that I had it in my hands I didn’t know what to do.
“Y/N...come on now...put that down. You don’t want to hurt yourself now do you?” He spoke in a sickening sweet voice but I knew it was all just an act.
I shook my head, holding on to the poker tightly, “Stay back…”
“Y/N. Put that down.” He said, no, ordered as he took a step forward.
“No! Don’t--Don’t come any closer!” I yelled, my voice steadier than I expected.
He stood back without saying a word, simply studying me but the look in his eyes told me he was anything but pleased, “You don’t know the kind of grave you just dug yourself do you?”
I didn’t bother giving him a response, my eyes wide with terror when he suddenly reached out and yanked the poker out of my hands. I immediately tried to make some distance between the two of us but I had my back to the wall with nowhere to run.
Help...please. Anybody...save me!
-3rd Person P.O.V-
Wrath hesitated the second he felt something was wrong. He gave a flap of his wings, distancing himself from Lucifer. He stood at the far end of the room, his eyes darting all over the place as he tried to figure out what was wrong. He staggered back, gasping for breath. He brought a hand up and clenched the fabric that lay over his chest, the pain he was feeling in his heart different to anything else he had ever felt. He grit his teeth, already knowing what was happening was Y/N’s doing.
“What the hell are you doing in there!?” He hissed through his teeth, keeping an eye on Lucifer.
He went to take another stand against him but the second he moved the feeling was back, worse than before. He felt like he couldn’t breath, his heart constricting in his chest. And that’s when he finally placed the feeling, its fear. But it was fear like he had never known before, this--this was pure unadulterated terror he was feeling and he knew exactly what was causing it.
“Y/N? Y/N...listen to me. You gotta calm down. Whatever is going on in there you gotta stay calm. He can’t hurt you anymore. He’s been dead for centuries. The man you’re seeing isn’t Sebastian, it's nothing more than a memory. He isn’t real.” Wrath spoke in a hushed voice, hoping his words got through to her.
He had been so focused on his fight with Lucifer he hadn’t been paying attention to what was going on inside until Y/N was crying out in pain...and fear. Just like Y/N was able to see Wrath’s memories he was able to see hers and hers...were much worse than anything he could’ve ever imagined. Sebastain, her husband, was a sick bastard that got a kick out of tormenting her every single day that she was married to him. Back then women didn’t really have a choice in who they married, people didn’t marry out of love, they married for power and Y/N’s family had basically sold her off to that monster for it. No wonder she forced herself to forget but even after trying so hard and all these years that have passed no one would ever be able to forget that kind of trauma.
Wrath exhaled slowly and reached into the deep recesses of their shared mind space where he had put her to keep her from interfering. Slowly, as if not to scare her he brushed his fingertips over the backs of her hands. She flinched back from his touch but that did nothing to deter him. He gently removed her hands from the sides of her head before he cradled her face in his hands. She was shaking in his hold, not daring to open her eyes but he needed her to look at him. 
“Y/N...open your eyes. It’s me...your buddy Wrath.” He spoke in a soft tone, chuckling at his choice of words for a moment before turning serious once more, “I won’t hurt you.”
And that’s when she finally opened her eyes. Wrath’s breath caught in his throat the second he saw the look in her eyes, the look tugging at his heartstrings. He sighed softly before placing his hands on her shoulders and in the next instant he brought her into his embrace. She clung to him like a child clinging to their mother after losing sight of her in a crowd. She buried her face in his chest, her sobs muffled as he patted the back of her head gently, trying to comfort her. 
“He can’t hurt you anymore, he’s long dead.”
She shook her head furiously, “You’re wrong. He lives on, in my mind. He haunts my every waking moment. He is the darkness I have never been able to escape.”
He shook his own head at that, pulling back to cup her face in his hands once more, “But you have a marvelous light to guide you now. You have Yunho to illuminate your life.” 
At the mere mention of his name her eyes brightened for just a moment but it was gone as quickly as it came, “No. I-I don’t deserve him.”
Wrath shook his head again, only more vigorously now, “You, more than deserve him. You, more than anyone deserves to be happy. You, who was cursed from the moment you were born. You, who had the misfortune of being my reincarnation. You, who has suffered through so much in your human life and suffered ten times more as a demon deserves to love. You need to hold on to that love you have for him, it might just be the only thing you have left.”
“But I’m no good for him.”
“But he is good for you. He makes you a better person. He lets you express yourself freely. He is what makes you human. He has done to you what Artemis did, no, has done for me.” He paused, swallowing the lump that has formed in his throat, “They are the anchors we need to keep us grounded and level-headed when our wicked instincts try and control us.”
Meanwhile on the outside, Wrath was still locked in a fight with Lucifer. Though his mind was with Y/N Wrath still fought with all his might and even if he wasn’t one hundred percent focused on the fight he was still winning. And the other sins were bearing witness to it all. 
“So it’s true. He’s weaker than Wrath and—and he always has been.” Envy let out in a whisper, stumbling over her own feet at the realization. 
Lucifer overhead her, angered by her words. He growled loudly, grabbing onto Wrath’s arm and throwing  him into the nearest pillar. The pillar collapsed, Wrath buried underneath it. In the next millisecond Lucifer had flown across the room and wrapped his hand around Envy’s throat. Sloth went to make a move but Lust reached out to grab his arm. 
“Wait.” He warned in a low voice. 
“He’ll kill her.” Sloth growled, about to prying Lust’s hand off of him but Lust just dug his claws into Sloth’s arm. 
“No he won’t get to. We stand no chance against him but they do.” Lust urged, drawing his gaze over to where the rubble and debris that had fallen over Wrath was moving. 
“Watch your tongue, Envy. I never really cared for you so killing you will be easy for me.” Lucifer growled out, sinking his claws into her neck. 
She clawed at his arm, trying to get him to let go but he only tightened his hold. Sloth was close to bursting but Lust held him back, glancing over at Wrath emerging from the pile of debris he was buried under but something about him seemed different. The body, Y/N’s body had changed, more so than it already had before. The hair that had been tied back now flowed freely past her shoulders, her hair color now a dark mahogany color, the red strands catching the light. Her eyes seemed to be a deeper red than before, they glowed more intimidating than ever. And her horns, they were bigger than hers but a bit smaller than Wrath's, the size now perfect, somehow signaling the balance they had found. The others only got to marvel at the change for a split second before they, no, she moved, faster than their eyes could follow. They didn’t know for sure but something told them that she was in full control. Y/N had fully absorbed Wrath into her. What they didn’t know is that in that short time they were buried under the debris of the pillar Wrath seceded to Y/N and let her kill Lucifer on her own and do what she thought was best after word, giving her all his strength.
-Y/N’s P.O.V-
I thrust a clawed hand forward, piercing Lucifer’s body through his back. A guttural grunt fell from his lips, his hold on Envy gone as she crumbled to the ground, Sloth immediately running to her side. I raised Lucifer up before throwing him across the room, skidding across the ground before the wall stopped him from moving, the cement one more hit from falling apart completely.
I hovered over the three that stared at me with wide eyes. As they looked at me I saw something that I had never seen before in their eyes, fear. I’ve seen resentment, contempt, and jealousy in their eyes before but never fear. The way they changed in an instant made a smirk play at my lips. Without thinking I reached out a clawed hand towards Lust but I never reached him. My hands was suspended in the air, a hand I recognized stopped me from going any further. I followed the arm the hand was connected to to find Pride at the end of it.
Her violet eyes glowed dangerously bright, a threatening snarl falling front her lips as she bared her teeth, “Touch him and you lose an arm.”
I raised a brow quizzically, my eyes darting from her to Lust who stared at her as much in shock as I was, that is until I figured out why she said that, “Ah...I see what’s going on here. Personally, I think you can do better than her.”
Her frowned at my words, a low growl emanating from deep within his throat, “Watch that tongue of yours before I cut it out of your mouth.”
I chuckled at his threat, knowing I could kill him before he even moved. With a look so cocky it’d piss off anyone that saw it I reached out to wrap my free hand around Pride’s neck, extending out a wing to stop Lust from moving any further. Sloth and Envy stood where they were but I  could tell that they were on edge too. They were all here...and when I say all I meant all but Greed but he was of use to no one in the condition he was in. Without even bothering to give her a glance I extended my other wing, curling the appendage around Gluttony in a vice grip as she tried to sneak up on me. 
“Wrath said he’d let you live if you didn’t defy him but let me tell you something about my dear friend...he lied.” I said, my grip tightening around bother Gluttony and Pride. Their groans mingled together as they struggled in my hold but I didn’t ease up, “I know Pride here chose to leave daddy dearest’s side but you all know I could never stand her. And I’ll never forgive her for the stunt she pulled with Yunho. I could kill you all with a simple snap of my wrist and I really want to. You have five seconds to change my mind before I start with our lovely Pride and Gluttony here.”
One.
Gluttony let out a cry, the sound of bones cracking reaching our ears. 
Two.
Pride gasped for breath, both hands now clawing at my arm.
Three.
Gluttony cried out in pain, a wet cough falling from her lips, pieces of her broken ribs piercing her lungs.
Four.
Pride’s hands fell limply to her sides, her strength leaving her as her face was turning blue at the lack of oxygen. Just as I was about to physically break the two I had in my hold Lust spoke.
“W-Wait!” 
My grip on the two loosened, the two gasping loudly the moment I did. I waited for Lust to continue, tilting my head to the side as curiosity filled me.
“Let--Let them go. I’ll take their place.” He said, his voice trembling as he spoke, his eyes glued to Pride for a good second before quickly glancing at Gluttony.
I couldn’t help but laugh at his words, “Take their place? You must not have understood me. You are all going to die either way. I told you to convince me, not try to be a hero. I’ll give you another chance but don’t squander it this time,” I squeezed the two in my hands once more, cries of pain leaving their lips.
“Fine! Fine. We’ll disappear. We won’t ever show up in front of you. We’ll hide, blend in with the humans if we have to but I promise you you’ll never see us ever again.” Lust said in a rushed tone, his hands out in front of him as if to stop me from doing anything rash.
“You promise? A promise from a sin means nothing and you know it.”
Without even giving it a second thought he slipped a necklace over his head, showing it to me, “We’ll give you these.”
“Lust...n-no…”
I looked at the necklace curiously, sticking out my hand so he could place it in my palm. These necklaces...so they're real? I’d only heard stories about them, but it made sense since I also had one. Each sin was said to have a pendant of their representative animal on a necklace hanging around their necks. No one thought they even existed since no has been able to get that close to a sin to even see it. These necklaces are said to be like a lifeline to the sins. One can’t kill them with the necklace per say…
But if I did this…? I asked myself as I closed my hand around the scorpion, squeezing it tightly.
The instant I did he collapsed, a howl so full of pain that it even sent a shiver down my spine fell from his lips. At the sound of his cries Pride started struggling again. I clicked my tongue before throwing her to the ground next to Lust. I let Gluttony down gently by Envy and Sloth who had been quiet this entire time. Having the necklaces will be good collateral for keeping them in line. My eyes scanned over the five of them, putting out my hand so they could give me their necklaces. Envy and Sloth gave me theirs without much of a fight, Envy helping Gluttony take hers off and handed it to me. I crouched down in front of Pride, waiting for her.
“I’ll kill you for this.” She growled as she placed the necklace in my hand.
I smirked at her words, plucking the scorpion out of the pile and holding it up for her to see, “I don’t think so. I know your weakness now. If I even so much as sense your presence he’ll be the one that suffers for it. Oh...and don’t even think about going after Yunho again. If you even try it I’ll torture you like you’ve never been tortured before...and then I’ll kill you.”
“Now get out of my sight, all of you.” I ordered, my eyes glowing as I glanced over all of them.
And with that they were gone. I looked down at the pendants in my hand for a moment before slipping the necklaces over my head. The necklaces felt heavy against my skin, the animals joining my wolf.
“I’m impressed. They don’t even fear me that much.”
I whipped around at the sound of his voice. Lucifer stood at the far end of the room, blood staining trickling down a cut on his cheek but he grinned through it. I took a step towards him to end this but I froze. No...no no no. This--this can’t be happening. How? When--when did he-
“Yunho…”
“Y/N?” He questioned, his eyes searching mine to see if it was really me.
That’s right...I look different now. This was my true form. After Wrath let me absorb him our features merged until they found a perfect balance. I shook those thoughts from my head, focusing on what was in front of me. Lucifer held Yunho by the arm, his claws ready to dig into his skin if I moved.
“Why? Why are you here!? Yunho, what the fuck are you doing here!?” I shouted, the emotions I was feeling coming out in my voice.
He flinched at my words but said nothing. Wait...I’ve seen this before but where? My knees buckled, staggering as the memory replayed in my mind. It's happening again, he’s pulling the same shit again! But if that’s true then- I whirled around, a gasp falling from my lips. I furrowed my brow at the pain that blossomed from my abdomen. Greed stood before me, almost fully healed now, glaring at me with nothing but hate in his eyes. I could hear Yunho yelling out for me but I blocked out his cries. I grit my teeth, grimacing as I tasted blood on my tongue but feeling it trickle down my chin.
“You didn’t really think you’d win in the end did you?” He asked in a low voice, a smirk playing on his lips.
I let out a wet cough, bringing my hands up to grab at his arm, digging my claws into his skin. He looked surprised at my strength, the smirk immediately disappearing from his face. I set my jaw as I pulled his hand out from out of my body, my blood dripping off of his hand onto the floor. He opened his mouth to speak but he didn’t get a word out before I killed him. I had extended my wings out behind me, bringing the wings to a point at the end, the soft feathers now as sharp as daggers. I plunged them into his back, pulling one up and the other down, cutting him up in an instant.
“I didn’t think I’d win...I knew I’d win.” I spat out, giving his body that was now in pieces on the ground one last look before turning around to face Lucifer.
The injury Greed had given me healed in seconds, the gaping hole in my stomach now gone. I took a step toward Lucifer, something flashing in his eyes for a moment before he shook it away. I could feel the aura I was emitting, my rage palpable. 
“You made a huge mistake bringing him here.” I growled, baring my teeth at Lucifer who just stood there without saying a word, “I’ll show you the true meaning of wrath before I finish you off once and for all, we’ve stalled this for far too long.”
Lucifer grit his teeth and shoved Yunho aside, morphing into the monster he truly was. He gave a flap of his wings, launching himself at me. Just as he was about to reach me I spared a glance at Yunho, giving him a soft smile, silently reassuring him that I’d get him out of here. Even if I somehow can’t beat Lucifer I’d get Yunho out of here. I didn’t need to be with him to teleport him out of here, all I needed was to focus and he’d go to wherever I wanted him to. But that was something I was keeping as a last resort, right now I had to focus on the task at hand. As long as Yunho stayed out of the way he’d be safe.
I cleared my mind of all thoughts as I focused my full attention at Lucifer, quickly stepping to the side to avoid him. He didn’t just fly by, instead he swung at me with his wing, throwing me across the room. Just as I was about to crash into something I gave a few flaps of my wings, halting my forward progress as I hovered in place. I was relatively unscathed by the attack, no even so much as a scratch on me. He seemed furious as he charged at me again. He swing forward, intent on landing a blow to my face but I blocked his fist with my arm, I shover him aside before swinging my own arm, landing a blow. The force behind the punch sent him to the floor, the tiles breaking as he sunk in. He let out a low growl, slamming a fist into the floor before he launched himself back up into the sky. I met him halfway, the two of us clashing. I chuckled as I realized how well I was doing in keeping up and I wasn’t just keeping up, I was winning. I was landing more punches, my claws taking chunks out of him faster than he could heal. I grinned like a maniac the longer we fought, my animal instincts taking control of my every move. 
I can’t tell you how long this was going on for but I can tell you that I’ve never felt more powerful than I ever have. I could feel my rage, my wrath was beginning to consume me but I didn’t care, if it helped me beat this monster then so be it. I’d turn into the most horrific and terrifying monster on earth, heaven, and hell if it let me get rid of him and with how things were going I was so close. I was so fucking close but something stopped me, a voice reached out to me just before I was completely consumed,
I froze mid-action, coming back to the world. I furrowed my brow as I looked up in search of the voice, seeing Yunho at the far end of the room, pure terror in his eyes. I was confused as I looked around, finally noticing the blood that ran down both of my hands and arms. I was soaked from head to toe in blood but none of it was mine, it was Lucifer’s. I looked down to see him lying underneath me in his usual human like form. He was missing an arm and a wing, the other wing bent at an unnatural angle. He had fresh claw marks on his face, his left eye completely gouged out. My jaw fell open at the sight as I staggered away from Lucifer, staring at my blood soaked hands.
“Y/N stop...please. You don’t need to do anymore...he stopped moving a long time ago.” Yunho said, his voice shaking as he walked over to me slowly.
The moment he reached me he sank to his knees, cupping my face gently in his hands, “It’s done...let’s--let’s go home.”
I nodded slowly, still a bit out of it. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing made it out. My eyes widened in horror at the sight, tears blurring my vision when he fell forward, slumped against me. I looked past him to see Lucifer standing there, Yunho’s blood coating his hand. I brought a trembling hand up to Yunho’s back only to have fresh blood coat my fingers.
No...No... 
“NO!”
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Tags : @chanyeolol​ @choisofty​ @boredmay21​ @j-oneracha​ @elenaramos1​
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evilscheme · 3 years
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rattling my cage bars furiously let me out let me ouuutt 🥜🥜👺👺👺👺
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coltdancer · 4 years
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You Matter to Me (A Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure Short Story)
A security breach of the alchemy lab results in a daring decision that has consequences for Varian.
Set after Eugene and Rapunzel are married, Varian has explored, learned, and returned to Corona as the Royal Engineer/Alchemist and Cassandra has completed her personal quests and returned to serve Corona as a member of the guard.
Inspired by CJeanne's/OriginalDisneyDescendants absolutely beautiful work here on Tumblr (not sure it’s around anymore), she graciously allowed me to run away with my own story. This is pure hurt/comfort FLUFF, my people. My happy place, my M.O., my zone. **AND NOW THERE IS ART by @lizpotentielle​!  
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“What did he take?!” Cassandra shouted, dodging the ornate vase launched at her head, nearly careening into the wall of royal portraits when the move shifted her balance but did not account for her speed. “Uh...I’m not sure, exactly!” 
“What did he take?!” Cassandra shouted, dodging the ornate vase launched at her head, nearly careening into the wall of royal portraits when the move shifted her balance but did not account for her speed.
“Uh...I’m not sure, exactly!”  
Ahead of her, his long legs giving him an advantage, Varian lunged toward the Soporian thief and very nearly made an impressive tackle, but the body-check inadvertently shoved their target through the door leading down to the dungeons and aided his escape. 
Cassandra sprinted past and Varian scrambled to his feet to join her.  
“We can catch him when he hits the cells!” she huffed, concentrating on skipping steps without twisting an ankle.  
“Not if he beats us to the sewage outlet; it’s how he got in. It will already be open,” Varian panted just behind her, and they hit the bottom to find that indeed, the doors leading through the main thoroughfare of the dungeon were all hanging wide open, providing the bandit a clear path.
With a straight and unhindered shot, Cassandra pulled the bolas from her belt and hurled them towards the Soporian’s legs with a grunt.  It was enough to make contact and wrap around the man’s ankles, sending him pitching forward.  He writhed impressively mid-air to skid across the floor on his shoulder, the glass vial he had stolen skittering from his pouch and across the bricks, out of his reach.  Varian pounded past him, dodging the swipe of his arms and making it to the end of the hall to shove the wooden door closed and block his exit.  
Cassandra breathed with relief when, panting heavily, he stooped to scoop up the vial and inspect it.  Because Varian had interrupted his heist, the vial likely wasn’t what the thief intended to make off with, but Cassandra knew that any number of the alchemical compounds Varian held in his main lab could be potentially serious or deadly in the wrong hands - the negative rumors and town talk that would create buzz in the neighboring kingdoms almost as much so.  
Best to keep these things quiet.  And most definitely out of the wrong hands.
Cassandra placed her knee between the Soporian’s shoulder blades to finish rolling him onto his stomach, reaching for his free arm to pull behind him, when he suddenly flipped onto his back and had her by a fistful of tunic and a dagger blade to her throat.  
Varian’s cry of warning was swallowed with a gasp.  The edge of the blade was close enough that her skin prickled and she froze, daring to make eye-contact.  Cold, brown eyes - so dark they were nearly black - narrowed with malice and she sat back as the thief used his impressive core strength to right himself, the knife never wavering from its precarious position against her jugular.  Even had she been wearing her armor, her neck would have still been exposed.  She made a mental note to rectify that if she was so lucky, her jaw clenching when he drew his legs close enough toward himself to reach down and release the bolas around his feet.  
“I was warned about you and your skill, my dear,” the thief breathed silkily, leaning in close enough that Cassandra could smell his breath and sweat.  It was repulsive.  He was rising smoothly to his feet and guiding her with him, a cruel twist to his mouth as she felt the cold metal press against her skin.  She held her breath and stood, his free arm unnervingly blocking a counter-attack to his midsection. She chanced a glance at Varian.  He looked slightly horrified, but surprisingly calm, and stock-still.  She knew his mind was racing with calculations and weighing his options.  She tried to shake her head to warn him not to do anything, but a nick at her neck and her stronger arm wrenching painfully behind her made her stop.  The muscle in Varian’s jaw clenched and he made a move to reach inside his vest.
“Ah-ah,”  the thief warned, “You keep your hands where I can see them, pretty boy. And unless you plan on accompanying me, just hand that tube over, and I’ll let this little wench go.”
Varian’s eyebrow shot up at the insult and something dangerous flashed in his eyes that Cassandra recalled from long ago, and then it was gone, replaced with a resolve that she decided in an instant she did not like one bit better - just as he threw his head back and swallowed the entire contents of the vial. 
“Well, can’t say it will do much for you now…” he responded dryly, suppressing a shudder, both Cassandra and her captor gaping in shock.
“It might if I slice you open and siphon what drains from your guts…” the Soporian snarled, just before he drew back and head-butted Cassandra in a rage.  
Spots and stars exploded from the contact and she felt herself tossed to the ground as the man lunged forward, swinging.  There was a whoosh and the clang of iron as a cell door slammed shut.  Cassandra shook her head and squinted, wincing at the sound as Varian locked himself safely inside and away from the blade.  His eyes darted to hers and back again, assessing that she had not yet recovered from the blow. 
“Wow, that’s exceedingly graphic.  You Soporians are so violent,” he quipped, keeping the focus on him.  “How about ‘no’? I rather like my guts where they are, thanks.”  
“They said you had a smart mouth, you little traitor. Didn’t know when to shut up.  Perhaps I should just let you keep talking and at least garner the satisfaction of watching what it does to you.”
And he did sound just a little too eager for that, Cassandra thought, blinking widely and trying to focus on Varian.  The alchemist almost looked bored, his shoulders dropping with a long-suffering sigh. “Absolutely nothing,” he responded.  
“What nonsense is this?”
“Do you even know what you took?”
There was just the briefest of pauses.  “Yes.  It was Belladonna.”
“Or you grabbed bimberrry juice,” Varian rolled his eyes.  “Tell me, did you actually see ‘belladonna’ or did you just snatch a vial marked with a letter ‘B’ on it, because that’s all you could read?”
The Soporian’s eyes were practically bulging and all he could do was splutter, and Cassandra felt her stomach unclench.  She wanted to laugh.  Instead, she felt for the hilt of her sword.  
“Yeah, that’s what I figured.”  
The sound of metal releasing from its sheath as Cassandra brandished her own blade grabbed their attention then, and with one last glare and clang on the iron bars of Varian’s safety cage, the Soporian bolted down the corridor toward the sewage grates.  
Cassandra lunged after him, but halted abruptly, rushing back to the closed cell.  She was patting down her pockets and looking around frantically on the floor, but the keys were nowhere to be found.  She looked up to find Varian dangling the keyring over his index finger. When had he snagged those?
She choked out a laugh. “ Why do you keep bimberry juice in your lab?”
He shrugged.  “For medicine. Makes it taste better.”
“Oh.  So it was really just bimberry juice?”
“No, it was belladonna.”
“ WHAT ?”
“Cassandra.  That low-life is getting away.”
“We have to get you out of there.”
“Go catch your man.”
“What - no!  Open the door.  We have no idea what that stuff will do to you!”
“I’m pretty sure I have a good idea.” “I am going to kill you.”
Varian tilted his head, a wistful, amused expression crossing his features. He shook his head.  “Sorry, but I’m not going to need your assistance this time around, Cassie.”
Her eyes widened with realization and she gripped the handle, rattling it furiously.  
“ Varian . This isn’t funny. Please tell me you have some kind of antidote.”
He smiled, but the beat of silence was too long.  “Of course.”
Cassandra’s stomach dropped like lead.  “ VARIAN. OPEN THE DOOR -- ”
With a huff of a chuckle, Varian stepped forward and through the bars pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, stunning her momentarily speechless in its acceptance.  “He’s getting away, Cass. Let me handle the science stuff. You catch the bad guy so he can answer for this.  Go on, now.”
She was horrified and angry and... scared ...which made her angrier, still, and she whipped around with a howl of fury intended just as much for the fleeing criminal as the maddening man she was leaving behind to potentially die a slow death.  
 Corona did not see a lot of high crime; the populace had nearly as infamous a reputation for squelching suspicious activity as the kingdom guard.  When the infrequent circumstances arose, however, the reaction was generally well-executed and swift.  Today’s heist was no exception, but it had created quite a stir.  The chase had resulted in Cassandra pursuing the Soporian interloper through the drainage tunnels below the dungeons and out the spillway into the moat, a sure test of her endurance, before gaining enough ground to make him change course right into the trap Eugene and his guard had waiting.  
And then it was over.
Cassandra had been anxious to report to the Captain, but he’d taken one good look at her, pulled a face, and insisted she shower first.  He might also have alerted her best friend and Princess to her need for a good meal and in the meantime paid his own visit to the newly occupied dungeons to question their captive.  She was begrudgingly grateful for the respite.
Now, as lamps were being lit and the sun dipped low on the horizon, Cassandra finished giving Eugene her version of the events and he scribbled notes in his parchment book about as furiously as she recounted them.  He had grown so very efficient in his role and Cassandra could not help but be impressed - they squabbled to the point of aggravation sometimes, but she knew he took the role seriously and worked hard.  She had often dreamed of holding that position.  However, even as Eugene carefully closed the book he was writing in, his fingers lingering over the cover that reeked of Rapunzel’s handiwork with a small smile, Cassandra found she did not harbor ill will or even any resentment.  She’d made her choices.  The fact that she has been able to return to Corona and work her way into duty at all was rewarding, and the capture they made today proved once again that she was capable and Eugene’s faith in her was justified.  But with the recounting of that chase and how she wound up jumping into the muck after their criminal, she was freshly reminded that she had left another man behind.  That was not a decision she could commend, no matter how logical it was.  No matter how confused it left her.
She blinked and looked up.  Cassandra wasn’t sure how long she had been silent, mulling it all over again.
Eugene leveled her with a penetrating gaze before standing from behind the desk.  He was disconcertingly adept at reading her. “C’mon,” he barked, and just like that Captain Fitzherbert was put away and he was “Eugene” once again.  “Rapunzel was getting Varian a change of clothes.  Let’s go check on him.”
Cassandra tensed, but knowing Raps had been with him and Eugene had procured his statement of events earlier as well...that had to mean Varian was fine and nothing untoward happened as a result of his daring strategy earlier.  Her shoulders relaxed marginally and she cleared her throat, rising to follow him from the room.  “How...how is he?”
Eugene snorted as he opened the door, sweeping his arm toward the threshold in a polite motion to usher her through first.  “Been puking his guts up all afternoon, but whatever that nasty stuff was that he concocted and choked down seemed to do the trick.”  He shuddered and grimaced.  “Did you see that stuff?  I’ve seen Shorty consume more appetizing sludge than that black tar-slime he mixed up.  But...I guess if you’re poisoned, you’re not too worried about the taste, eh?” 
Cassandra felt her jaw clench, ire returning as they walked down the hall toward the infirmary.  She could see Rapunzel hovering at the door and as they neared, a bundle of clothes clutched in the princess’ hands. “Since he was foolhardy enough to do it to himself instead of oh, I don’t know , smashing the bottle on the bricks, I’d say that’s what he gets.”
Beside her, Cassandra could practically feel the dubious eyebrow Euguene was lifting.  “A split-second to take a single course of action and save the Kingdom’s face - oh! and you,” he unnervingly summarized, and she just knew he was wearing that smug, all-knowing expression on his face as they came to a halt, muttering a “Yeah, it scared the hell out of  me, too.”
Eugene bent to kiss his wife on the cheek.  Worn thin by her concern (not that she’d admit it openly), Cassandra glowered at him and rather unceremoniously snatched the garments from Rapunzel’s grasp, continuing on for the infirmary door.  Rapunzel stammered, unsettled, and reached out to halt her progress into the room.  “Cass - I don’t think now is a good time -”
“Ah, Sunshine?  Why don’t we just let Cassandra go on in.”
“But Eugene -” the princess hissed, even as the Captain of the Guard began to wrestle her away.
“Trust me.”
And God bless Eugene as he tugged on her arm and Rapunzel fell silent.  Cassandra yanked the door open and stalked into the softly-lit antechamber, marching across the floor toward the only partitioned area that held anyone at the moment, on a mission to give Varian a piece of her mind for the worry she’d been fighting all afternoon - 
And was halted at the edge of the make-shift curtain by the unmistakable sound of retching.  
It took a moment for her to compose herself before she took a step forward to peer around the curtain where Healer O'Shea, a kindly man with silvering strawberry-blond hair, was positioned in front of an obviously still very ill alchemist. The doctor glanced up at her briefly, one eyebrow arched in silent query.  He was bracing Varian with a gentle hand to the shoulder and supporting a basin as Varian’s whole body strained forward with a round of horrible, empty gurgles that made Cassandra cringe.  Finally, he coughed and spit with a pained gasp.
“That’s it, lad.  I think you’ve just about got it all out - and then some.  This should be slowing down, now,” the physician murmured with approval.  “Let’s try a little bit of ginger tea this time around, see if we can settle that stomach and start getting you rehydrated.”
Varian, if he registered what was said, did not outwardly respond.  In fact, he seemed unaware of anyone standing there at all.  Chalky white and panting for air, he was slumped over a bolster wedged between his arms and his stomach - the only thing that seemed to be holding him upright on the edge of the cot.  Cassandra nodded, subdued, as the healer dipped his head in silent excusal, leaving her alone with Varian and feeling exposed.  Whatever she was expecting after speaking with Euguene, it wasn’t this.  
He looked... dreadful. 
And just like that, she felt her anger dissipate.  If it was even truly anger, to begin with.
“I’d rather you not see me like this…” 
It was such a low rasp she wasn’t sure she heard it.  But a few moments later, Varian mustered the strength to lift his head, the hint of a smirk in his voice, “Unless you came to make good on your offer?  You’ve got your sword, right?”
Cassandra let out the breath she didn’t even realize she was holding, stepping closer.  “You must be joking!”
“Only - mm, only half -” he grunted, then went positively ashen with a small groan and barely managed to find the basin beside him as his stomach heaved again.  
If she thought it was bad mere moments earlier, Cassandra was certain Varian’s insides were trying to claw themselves out, now.  His grip was white-knuckled and desperate as he fought through it, bringing absolutely nothing up, his stomach completely devoid of even the thick and tarry-looking charcoal Eugene said he had been bringing up for hours.  Cassandra found herself reaching out to awkwardly pat at the shirt plastered to his back.  He was hot to the touch and she could feel the muscles coiling angrily beneath her hand; it had to hurt.
Varian folded over the pillow again, trembling from exertion, and she managed to grab the bin from him before it could clatter to the floor.  “Please, jus’...” then his head was in his hands and he gave up trying to talk.  She wasn’t sure if he was begging for her to leave or for it to just be over.
Cassandra felt utterly inept; maybe it would be best to just leave the change of clothes for him and excuse herself quietly.  He was a mess and she did not know what to do.  She would have wanted to be left alone in this sort of scenario, but then, Varian was nothing like her.  He was tenderhearted and tactile and...this was definitely Rapunzel’s department.  The healer had disappeared to make the tea - naturally, she thought, setting the garments she held down on the bed.  She hadn’t planned to stay, for goodness sake, and in no way would have agreed to play nursemaid.  Sure, she and Varian certainly shared a level of comfortable camaraderie with one another; there had been the occasional long conversation when neither could sleep, mutual royal projects or endeavors, one exceedingly rare late night at the Snuggly Duckling when they’d both imbibed a bit too much and had chatted and giggled all the way back to the castle on Fidela.  She looked back at the miserable man beside her and remembered leaving him behind in the dungeons.  While not as powerful as fear, guilt was a fair motivator.  Cassandra would be the first to admit she was no good at the “soft stuff”, but she realized that she wanted to try for him.  
She chewed thoughtfully on her lip, searching the room and wracking her brain, then her eyes landed on the washstand against the wall.  Quietly, she stepped over to it and pulled on the silver levers, letting the water run hot before filling a large basin from a stack of them on the side.  She absently wriggled her fingers under the stream, as she almost always had since her return to Corona, marveling at what Varian had done with all the pipes and his huge fancy boiler mechanism, smiling faintly at a memory - and was quickly reminded of the man across the room.  Cassandra threw a few of the folded rags over her shoulder and slowly returned to the bed as the healer arrived with a small cup of warm, pale liquid.  
“Just a sip or two at first,” he told her and relegated the task by handing the cup off to her once she set her wares down on the bedside table.  She stood there, gaping at the doctor’s back as he traipsed over to his desk and resisted the urge to tell him this was his job.  She was beginning to smell a conspiracy.  
“Hey, you still with me?”  she asked gently, prodding Varian to sit up and relinquish his hold on the massacred cushion beneath his arms. 
His breathing was a little easier and with a pang, she hoped he hadn’t dozed off.  She picked up the tea and held it before him.  It looked inoffensive enough and smelled pleasantly of meadowsweet, but Varian grunted with disapproval, turning a nasty shade of pale and green when she pressed the cup to his lips.  Stubbornly, she waited him out until he finally took a few sips.
“There. Not so bad?” she murmured.
He managed a noncommittal noise in reply.  
Cassandra went back to chewing on her lip, wondering how long it would take for the tea to come back up, if it was going to.  “I bet you have some ideas on how to improve on the formula,” she finally added with forced brightness, and set it down, her smile fading when he said nothing.
Yeah, he was in pretty bad shape. She watched him drag in a deep breath, releasing it heavily.  “You gonna be sick again?”
He seemed to be taking inventory. “No…” he swallowed hard, “...not yet,” he finally whispered, still breathless.  
“Uh...Raps brought you some fresh clothes…”  she offered quietly, but it just sounded silly when he could barely even hold his own head up.  She frowned, and then pursed her lips in frustration.  Why was this so hard?
Time for a purely practical decision.  He needed help, and she ...could help with this.
“What’r y’doin?” Varian slurred, sounding agitated and batting altogether uselessly at her when she reached for his shirt. “Cass -”
“Hey, hey! It’s alright,” she soothed, enclosing his wrist in her small hand, waiting for him to look at her.  He swayed against her and the magnitude of what she was asking wasn’t lost on her.  Suddenly, her gracelessness no longer mattered.  “Can I...Can I help you with this?”
His eyes, dull and bruised, slid closed. To her dismay, a small tear trickled from the outer corner and he nodded. He was exhausted.  
Though she knew he couldn’t see it, she smiled with much more confidence than she felt.  Maybe he wouldn’t hear it, either. She gave his shoulder a squeeze.  “Okay.  It’s okay, Varian. You’ll feel better soon.”
She pulled the sweat-dampened shirt over his head carefully, steadying him as his chin dipped toward his chest. She tried not to, but could not help but notice that his shoulders were peppered with a similar smattering of freckles as his face. It absolutely did not soften her smile.  She turned to the bowl on the table to drop in the rags, swirling them around in the hot water to warm them up.  “You know, what you did today...that was really stupid, Var.”
“This is supposed to make me feel better?” he mumbled irritably, and she cringed.
Speaking of stupid… 
“Sorry, that came out poorly,” she muttered, abashed, wringing out a rag and gently pressing it to the back of his neck.  He jumped beneath the initial touch, then sagged with a mewl of relief that made her stomach feel funny.  Cassandra swallowed and drew the washcloth along the sweep of his shoulders, concentrating on removing the clammy layers of sweat and salt down his back and arms.
“I mean,” she tried again, slowly, “It worked, but it wasn’t worth your life.”
Varian sighed.  “Admittedly really dumb.  I’ll do better next time.”
Cassandra paused then, rag dripping over the bowl as she reached out and snatched his bearded chin, lifting it so that he was looking at her. “No!” she replied, eyes wide with alarm.  “Varian, do not scare me - us… ”  She took a breath, recovering herself and dropped her tone.“Don’t scare us like that again.”
He blinked dazedly but held her gaze until she reached up to gently wash his face, ignoring that funny feeling that came again when his eyes fluttered closed and he trusted her to it.  She placed the rag in his hand so that he could make a pass or two at his front, then helped him thread his arms into the clean shirt, lifting it over his head.  His hair was sticking up in all different directions and she bit down on a giggle. The urge to tame it with her fingers was strong, but Cassandra busied herself with the teacup instead, steadying it when his hands shook and encouraging him to work on it some more.
It did seem to be helping.  With the modicum of relief from his nausea and taking in some fluid, the tension was draining from his posture.  He could no longer keep his eyes open.  She took the empty cup and gave in to thread her fingers through his hair - purely under the pretense of smoothing it back into place - and he leaned more heavily against her. She thought she heard her name, the ghost of a whisper on his lips when he was suddenly dead weight in her arms.    
“Varian?!”  The alarm in her voice and the shattering of the teacup drew the attention of the healer, who was quick to rise from his notes and return to the bedside, helping her ease Varian’s limp form to the mattress.  
Cassandra stood by with wide eyes as he took Varian’s wrist and measured the pulse with practiced ease, gently tilting Varian’s head toward the lantern on the table, pushing back his eyelids and watching the pupils react to the light. He then took a moment to remove the instrument around his neck, listening to the sound of Varian’s breath in his lungs, the rhythm of his heart.
“It’s all right,” he assured her, straightening and reaching to pull up the blanket.  “He’s just finally passed out.  No small wonder.  Maybe he’ll be able to get some rest, now.”
Cassandra let out a shaky breath and pursed her lips together, swallowing hard.  Relief washed over her with astonishing force and she blinked against her silly, watering eyes.  Healer O’Shea was watching her carefully.
“You may stay a bit longer; make sure our winsome engineer is comfortable,” he murmured, skirting the foot of the cot and bending over with a crack of his back to pick up the broken pieces of the smashed cup from the floor.  “But then, unless you wish me to remove you from Captain Fitzherbert’s active duty roster, you’ll let me give you a check-over and will retire to get some rest as well, hm?”
The tumult of the day’s emotions and weariness threatening to overwhelm her, all she could do was nod in agreement.  She knew there was nothing she could do for Varian, but found herself at war with the decision to leave him - again .  He did not budge in the least when she needlessly fussed over the blanket, resting her palm across his chest, reassured by the gentle thump of his heartbeat.  Somewhere, sometime over the course of their friendship, she realized how very much she’d grown to care for him.  In the quiet of the infirmary, now, she could admit how right Eugene’s earlier dig at her had been: today had scared the hell out of her.
“What are you doing to me, you big nerd?” she whispered incredulously. 
Cassandra scoffed then, and rolled her eyes in exasperation, swiping at her eyes once more and shaking her head.  The healer cleared his throat across the room.  She straightened and followed his gesture to a new cot, but not before she took one last moment to return the kiss Varian had bestowed upon her from behind the cell door, her lips pressed tenderly to his forehead as she bid him a silent goodnight.  
 She did feel better, Cassandra admitted, after a few hours of sleep and some breakfast.  Much to Eugene’s chagrin, she even reported for duty.  The Captain, however, seemed assuaged by her reasoning that she needed the distraction and she accepted his compromise to take off after lunch. 
She was returning from the kitchens (making her way through the Great Hall since a steady thundershower rendered the courtyard an undesirable path) when Cassandra caught the back of a familiar mop of black hair heading in that very direction - and likely to the old ammunitions holds that had been converted to his main lab, near the garden.  
“Varian?” she called, both concerned to see him up and about when she’d left him very much unconscious the night before, and relieved.  
He turned at the sound of her voice and smiled wanly, waiting for her to catch up to him.  “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.”  she narrowed her eyes.  “You’re looking…better?” she offered unconvincingly, to which he chuckled sheepishly.  
“Yeah, I know...I’m kind of a mess,” he muttered, gesturing to himself, and she was dismayed at how hoarse his voice sounded.  
“You look pretty peaked, actually,” she revised.  “Are you sure you should be out right now?”
“Released on my own recognizance,” he puffed, but quickly deflated under her stare.  “Yeah, okay.  So, released once I kept down some lunch,” he admitted.  “I just wanted to give the lab a once over, make a few notes.”
“Right.  Where we’d find you slumped over the workbench at dinner time because you lost track of the hour,” she chuckled at the indignant noise he made. “Varian, I know you.  And, I know what you went through yesterday with that stuff - it could have killed you!  May I remind you of the antidote you spent all afternoon and evening bringing up --”
“Okay, okay...keep pushing it, and you can see what I had for lunch, too,” Varian groused, looking decidedly uncomfortable and definitely too pale.  
And darn it, she’d let her blunt mouth run away with her again.  “See?  All you need to be doing right now is taking it easy.”
She stepped behind him to take Varian by the shoulders and direct him toward the other end of the hall, toward the bath chambers.  “THAT way.  Go use those hot showers you made possible.  If you still feel like you’ve got it in you to check your lab, then we’ll talk.”
He spluttered as she began pushing him across the floor, but she could tell he wasn’t putting up much resistance, physically.  “I don’t have clean clothes…”
“I’ll bring you some. Go on.”
Varian planted his feet and glowered at her, but then his shoulders slumped in defeat.  He threw a longing glance at the bath doors and looked back at her. “It....would feel nice…”
Cassandra smiled triumphantly. “Right?”  
When he continued to look uncertain, she could tell he was at war with something he felt he needed to do and what he wanted to do. She frowned and reached out to touch his elbow, lowering her voice.   “Hey.  What’s got you so determined to push yourself right now?”
He was silent for a moment, then met her eyes. “I really should make some notes.  I - I need a way to better track, and secure, my inventory,” he answered ruefully.  “Yesterday was a reminder of the real danger in some of the work I do, and how imperative it is to protect the kingdom’s assets - both from misuse and misconstruction.”
While the solemnity of his response was reassuring, Cassandra couldn’t help but think Varian had completely overlooked another important aspect of the “kingdom’s assets” - his own well-being.  
Security detail was one of her specialties, not his, and before she could second-guess herself, she suggested, “How about you get that shower, take a load off and rest.  You could...tell me what’s going on in that big brain of yours, and I could write the notes down for you.”
Varian’s expression shifted so swiftly to surprise that Cassandra found herself back-pedaling in case she’d offered too much.
“I mean if you - if I -”  she rolled her eyes with irritation at her bumbling and huffed, feeling her cheeks burn.  “If you trusted me to.”
Varian’s eyes softened and the smile he gave her made her stomach do that weird thing again.  His voice dropped.  “Of course I trust you,” he reassured her, and then it was his turn to look embarrassed.  He reached up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck.  “It’s just...you’ve done a lot already, you know? And this doesn’t really matter all that much to…”
“It matters to you.”
“Well, yes.”
“Then it matters to me.”
Varian blinked, confounded.  “Wow, Cass - that was almost….touching.  Eugene would ask if you hurt yourself.”
“GO,” she growled good-naturedly, punching him lightly in the arm.
Varian flinched playfully and wobbled, off-balance, but even as Cassandra steadied him with an apology, he only chuckled and assured her he was fine, at last giving in to her suggestion and plodding off to the bath chambers.    
She had been right, too, after hurrying back with clean clothes from his chambers - while the hot water and steam had brought back some color to his face, it had also left him rather loose-limbed and, if possible, wearier.  She took him by the arm and steered him toward the steps of the garden tower, prodding him along like a drunken villager to his rooms.  They were cold and felt damp with all the rain, so she set to starting some kindling in the grate of the bedchamber to chase the chill away as Varian kicked off his boots then crawled into his bed and collapsed with a groan.  The flames soon took hold and, after placing some larger logs, Cassandra glanced over her shoulder.  Varian hadn’t moved.
Thunder rumbled outside and a gust of wind splattered rain more heavily against the window, but the chill was dissipating and heat was spreading out into the room, now.  Cassandra poked at the logs for something to do, hoping that if she gave him enough time, Varian would drift off to sleep and actually rest.   It would certainly do him a world of good.  Her eyes wandered over the eclectic arrangement of artifacts and trinkets on the mantle; some of them she recognized, but others she did not.  She tilted her head quizzically at a glass urn, filled with what looked like a marbled mixture of ash and sand, labeled with nothing more than sketched flames. 
“Go ahead, open it,” Varian spoke drowsily. “Spread some of it across the fire.”
Cassandra threw him a wry, “why are you still awake?” look, but reached up to gingerly remove the jar, setting the lid on the mantle’s ledge.  She pulled out a scoop of the fine granules and studied them more closely.  They sparkled slightly in the light of the flames and she found herself curious, scattering them across the expanse of the grate.  The powder sparked and popped, surprising her, but then the flames were suddenly awash with changing color, blazing from jewel-toned blues and greens to bright oranges and pinks.  
“What is it?” she breathed, delighted as the flames continued a steady burn of flickering color.
“Just a mix I’m still trying to get right,” he replied, but she could hear the surprise in his voice at her interest. “Potassium and copper chloride, lithium chloride...some alum. Sugar and salt.”
Cassandra shook her head fondly at his list of mostly unknown, scientific ingredients, still mesmerized.  “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes, it is,” he responded groggily, but she could feel his eyes on her, instead.
Cassandra felt her cheeks redden and she offered him a small smile, uncharacteristically self-conscious with the attention.  She felt warm all over.  “How are you feeling?” she asked finally, replacing the jar and coming to stand at the bedside.  
Varian shrugged half-heartedly. “Eh. Head hurts a little, but it’s not too bad.”
Translation: enough for him to mention it, though.  Cassandra frowned, tugging the covers from beneath him and pulling them up to his chest.  She stepped over to his desk and plucked the blanket from the chair. It was obviously one Rapunzel had knitted for him, large and heavy and very soft, its colors mirroring that of Ruddiger’s fur.  It...smelled faintly like Varian.  She wrapped it around her shoulders and then, after a moment’s consideration, rummaged in the armoire for an extra pillow and situated herself beside him on the bed with a quill and one of the parchment books he kept on the table.  Varian wriggled under the blankets and finally settled on his side, snuggled surprisingly - and comfortably, she realized - close to her hip.
“Okay, first things first,” she began, and Varian craned his neck to look up at her.  “You need a better lock.  Maybe more than one. And lock it every time you leave...even for just a few minutes.”  
Varian hummed in agreement, nodding against the pillow.  “I should talk with Xavier.”
“Noted.  How often do you check inventory?”
“I…”  Varian frowned.  “Not enough,” he admitted ruefully.  
“It seems redundant much of the time, I know,” Cassandra responded patiently, adding to the page, “Especially if you’re the only one in there and you’ve not left all day...but, I recommend it.  Sometimes you catch discrepancies.  We do the same with armor and munitions.”
“Makes sense,” Varian yawned.
Cassandra’s mouth twitched and she glanced down at him.  “Line of sight,” she added quietly. 
“What about it?” he asked, fighting to open his eyes again.
“We should rearrange your workspace so that your back isn’t to the door.  So that you always have a line of sight when someone comes in.”
“I hadn’t thought of that...that’s a good idea.”  
“We should also add a sentry. I’ll talk with Eugene about it.” She scribbled down a few more notes and he yawned again.  “I think that’s enough for us to start with,” she assured him, leaning over and whispering, “Get some rest.”
“...Cass, could you….?”  Varian stopped himself short, his cheeks turning pink as he burrowed into the pillow.
Cassandra set aside the parchment book and quill, brow furrowed.  She tried to surmise what he could possibly have wanted or needed that would embarrass him so after everything he’d been through.  Tentatively, she reached out to comb her fingers through the long fringe at his forehead and he sighed as if he had been waiting for exactly that... oh.  When she’d done it for him the night before, he’d finally relaxed enough to let unconsciousness claim him.  She could not help but smile now as it seemed to work again.  He really was a tactile creature.  
“How’s that?” she asked, her thumb circling gently at his temple.
“Mmm.”
“Mmm?”
There was barely a grunt, but he seemed to nestle in just a little bit closer.  She sighed and sank into a more comfortable position, allowing her eyes to close for a respite.  Just a brief one, she compromised with the part of herself that railed against the domesticity of the whole thing.  The rain continued to patter at the window and it was warm, cozy, and... nice , she decided, with Varian tucked against her side and breathing deeply.  She would slip out once Varian was asleep.  Her fingers continued threading through his hair and he hadn’t stirred in the slightest.  As she began to drift off, herself, Cassandra had one last thought before the morning sun would finally wake her hours later:  that Euguene’s ridiculous grooming habits had worn off on Varian and she now had the perfect dig that would drive Eugene bonkers.
Varian’s hair was definitely thicker and softer.
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haedonr0cks · 3 years
Text
Perry and Doof’s Road Trip Chapter 16: When Things Fall Apart
He made it to the place where the letter said they held Doof at. It was an abandoned factory that looked old and rusted, probably will crumple if he touched the wall. Perry rushes inside the building, angry enough to fight anyone in his way. The room was really dark, luckily he brought his flashlight with him. He shines the place, seeing if he could find Doof hogtied onto a chair or something. There was nothing in the room, giving Perry false hope that Doof was indeed in the factory. All of a sudden, a metal cage fell from the ceiling, trapping Perry. “Hey! What is all of this!?” Perry shouts furiously as he rattles the cage. 
“So, it seems like you have fallen in my trap, Perry the Platypus.” A man’s voice said, though it wasn’t Doof’s as Perry thought. He came out from the shadows, wearing a lab coat and some brown pants. “I knew that letter would lure you here.”
Perry’s eyes widened, he knew that guy known as Dr. Stein. He’s an evil mastermind genius he had faced a year ago. “Dr. Stein!? I remembered you!” He said to him angrily. 
“Ah yes. I was thinking you would.” He walks closer to the cage. “After what you did to my plans back then, I decided that you needed to have a taste of your own medicine. Meaning to lose something that’s very important to you.” He gave an evil smile.
“What did you do to him!? Where’s my Doof!?” Perry was livid, shaking the cage roughly. 
“I did nothing to him, besides giving him lies about you ditching him.” Dr. Stein says, putting his hands behind his back. “You see, I told Doof that you were going to leave him like you tried to do back in San Francisco and it definitely worked. He’s back at the hotel room waiting for you.” 
“You’ll pay for this!” Perry shouts at the scientist. “When I get out, I’ll make sure you’ll never get to do anything again!” 
“Ooo, some harsh words coming from a tiny creature.” Dr. Stein mocks him. “I’ll keep you in for the rest of your life. There’s nothing you can do to get out.” He then went on his evil laugh as he left the building. 
Perry keeps shaking the cage, trying to break it open. He huffs and pants as the bars on the cage didn’t bend an inch. He wasn’t going to let Dr. Stein get away with this, but mostly let Doof be alone forever. “Oh Doof, what have I done?” He said, feeling like this was his fault. 
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Doof sits on the bed, next to the pop up book he had worked so hard on. The sun was almost down and there was no sign of Perry coming back. Looking at his watch, which read 6:43, he wipes it to clear the glass. “Where are you?” He murmurs to himself. 
He’s starting to think that the man was right, Perry did leave and was at Danville. Patience usually runs thin after a few hours, but he was not as thin as they say. He decides to wait until at night to wait for him. 
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It’s been a few hours since he was trapped, with no help nor any gadgets that could get him out of the cage. Dr. Stein comes back into the room with some sort of advanced ray gun. “What is that?” Perry says, glaring at him.
“This is my latest invention, a ray gun that can disintegrate anything to dust.” He shows his gun. “My original plan was to use this on the whole government agency so I could rule over the country, but since you’re here….I might have some changes in my plans.” His wicked smile was enough to give Perry alarms going off in his head. 
“You think that killing me is going to help you?” Perry says to him, thinking that it won’t do anything but make the OWCA angry. 
“Of course, you’re the problem with my plans and once you’re gone, it’ll be a lot more easier.” Again he does his evil laugh like any other evil maniac does. “Right now, I think you’re buddy Doof is starting to lose hope in you.” 
“Don’t you dare say that, Doof knows me well!” His anger rises up again when Dr. Stein mentions Doof. 
“Then it’s a shame that I showed him that security video of you leaving the hotel in a taxi.” Dr. Stein says, sounding so amused by this. 
“You showed him the footage that I was leaving?” He grips on the bars, his growl deep and dark.
“Oh yes. Don’t worry, he doubted about it. But in a few hours, he’ll start to believe me.” He goes to his crafting table, making adjustments to his ray gun. 
Perry huffs in rage. Why was he letting this man get away from his crimes? He’s supposed to be the best secret agent in the agency. Yet he’s stuck in a cage, knowing that Doof is probably gone by now. 
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It was dark and Perry never made it back. Doof pinches the bridge of his nose as he rubs his eyes. He looks at his watch again, reading 8:34. Did he really leave? Doof thought to himself. But for what reason? Was he mad because he never got to the pool? Or maybe he offended him in some way with the surprise, that Perry did find it and hated it. But this wasn’t the Perry who would do those things. Unless it was a mission. That he would leave Doof alone for some mission by that stupid agency that got Perry trapped. 
In rage, he picks up the pop up book and slams it in the ground. Then stomps on it hard, smashing to pieces with glitter stuck on his shoe. “Some friend you are.” He spats to Perry as if he could hear him. Knowing that Perry had left this place, he decides to pack his things and check out of the hotel. He had nothing left, no friends, no memories, they were all gone. Once he checked out of the hotel with all of his things, he put them in his car and drove off. But before he could head back to Danville, he needs to do one more thing that he will regret in his life.
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Perry sat on the ground, feeling defeated and lost. He would have contacted Major Monogram about this, but he could have been dead by now if they arrived. “So Perry the Platypus…” Dr. Stein spoke. “How does it feel now?” He mocks him, teasing through his personal feelings. “You lost everything that you worked so hard for, just because you made one mistake.” He pulls out his upgraded ray gun.
“You’re a monster.” Perry hisses at the man. 
“We all are. It’s that we just don’t know that yet.” Aiming at the platypus, he tilts his head. “Well if I’m steady enough, I could hit you instead of the cage.”
Perry looked down at the ground again, but this time, he saw something that might give him some hope. It was a tiny pebble, but big enough to hurt Dr. Stein with. He hides the pebble in his hand and waits for the evil scientist to do something. “Hope this will do.” He whispers to himself.
“So, any last words before I turn you into dust?” He asks.
He glares at him, his hand with the pebble gripping tight. “Yeah, don’t forget to watch your aim.” At the same time, he throws the pebble at Dr. Stein’s eye, making him move the ray gun as it hits the cage. After the cage disintegrates, Perry takes the chance to beat Dr. Stein and destroy his ray gun. 
“Ach!” The scientist lets out as Perry continues to beat the man until he is knocked out for good. He also kicks and bites the man, letting out all of his anger on him. After he was knocked out cold, he immediately contacted the OWCA about Dr. Stein and to send someone over to arrest him. Then runs out of the abandoned factory and hopes that someone can give him a ride to the hotel to see if he wasn’t too late.
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He made it to the last stop of his journey, it was a nice lake that showed the city from ahead. Doof gets out of the car along with the digital camera that held all of their memories. He walks to the ledge of the lake, looking at his camera and then straight. With a grunt, he throws the camera right into the lake with a satisfying splash to him. “I’m never doing this again.” He says, heading back to his car.
Out in the distance, an eagle had spotted Doof throwing something in the lake. It was Agent E who was out at night patrolling the land for any signs of danger. Out of curiosity, he dives in and picks up the camera before heading back to his spot. “What is he doing?” Agent E says, looking at the soaked camera. With his eagle eyes, he could see that Perry wasn’t in the car at all. Did Doof do something to him, or was it the other way around? “I need to find Perry.” The last thing he said before flying upwards to find his friend.
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