Tumgik
#and carried him into the flames that destroyed them and the ring both
pickleking8 · 6 months
Text
8 - Adoption Isn't All It's Cracked Up to Be - Chapter 8
Words: 770
Ao3 Link
Previous - Next - Masterpost
Tw: death, guns, bombs, fire (?), let me know if I missed anything
——————————–
    The whole world burned in a thousand shades of bright green fire. 
     The air was hot and carried the rancid smell of melted plastic and charred flesh. It hung heavy in the air, the slightest of breezes letting tattered lab coats flutter slightly, a clinical white flag of unconditional surrender. 
    It was loud, too. The fires crackled and popped and sizzled, building into a constant, unceasing roar that accompanied the shrill ringing that seemed to stretch on and on, a sordid reminder of the bomb that had gone off in a flash only moments before. 
     They were probably screaming, but she couldn’t hear them. Even if she had, she doubted she would be moved much by the final shrieks of those damned long before she ever even arrived. They had taken her brother from her. Again. This base hadn’t held him. None of the meticulously organized, glaring white bases that she had searched and razed had held him. She would keep going, though. She would destroy everything and everyone standing between her and Danny .
     Even as she watched, a shriveled body, still blazing with a horrid green fire, stumbled disjointedly out of the wreckage. She traced the man’s (the monster’s) slow, unorganized path as he pitched and lurched all of, one, two, three steps before he fell. His body hit the ground hard, a bony and scorched hand stretched out before him in what, she didn’t know. A plea, perhaps? It wouldn’t be answered. She wouldn’t answer him. 
     In languid, loping steps that crunched over scattered glass, she smoothly crossed the distance between them, and with a swift stomp, she shoved his hand back down into the dirt. 
     The fire burned, and she stood there, gazing with cold, detached eyes over the wreckage. Slowly, slowly, the fire died down, shrinking into glowing green embers and leaving only air clogged with smoke and white ashes. She kept standing, and only when the world had finally faded into oblivion and quiet, burdened still by a layer of smog and desperation, did she move. 
As she turned, black boots grating upon the littered ground, she saw a flitting shadow out of the corner of her eye, and within seconds had a large gun pointed at it. It was dark, though. Black. Not white, so she didn’t shoot quite yet. It remained in the shadows.
     “Come out. Now,” she commanded, with a rigidness to her voice that spoke to the idea that she expected her orders to be followed. And they were. Confidently, the figure stepped forward, and now that it was in the light, albeit obscured by the remnants of flame, she could make out the form. Batman. 
     Keeping her gun expertly trained on his chest, she quickly drew another one and pointed it at Robin hiding against the other wall. He looked startled, like he wasn’t expecting to be seen, and to be fair many, if not most, would have missed him. Her eyes narrowed, and her chin jutted out, ever so slightly. 
     “And the rest. Come out or I’ll shoot,” she said, clipped and clinical, with a jab of the guns at both targets. 
     The rest filed out, begrudgingly, annoyed, from rafters and from windows. They wanted to attack, she knew, she could tell, she could feel the rage simmering underneath their masks and the protectiveness over their own. Good, she could use that. 
     Batman took a quick step forward, only to scrape to a halt when she readjusted her grip on the gun. He quickly regrouped.
     “Who are you? Why have you done this?” he said, his voice a low growl, arrogant and hubristic, as if he was not standing amid a testament to her power. She holstered the gun trained on Robin. 
     “You don’t need to know any more than to call me Aconite. And as for why I’m doing this… well, I’m looking for something,” even behind her mask, the hatred and resentment were clearly heard as she spat out the next sentence, “Something that they took from me.”
     She clenched her fist, and when she opened it, she got the satisfaction of watching several eyes widen behind dominos, as what was revealed was a quickly ticking bomb with garishly flashing numerals counting down the seconds until havoc was wreaked once more. In one smooth motion, she hefted it, lighting fires anew, and when the ringing had stopped and the Bats had all come out from the pillars and rubble behind which they had hidden, she was gone, leaving only a wake of destruction and decimation, and a single warning, behind her. 
     “Don’t get in my way.”
——————————–
Next - Masterpost
——————————–
Rogue Jazz is my favorite, and I'm not really sure if I did her justice, but hopefully it came across well. I was really trying to make her very cold and detached, just done and willing to do what it took to get her brother back. I also want yall to know that Aconite is a flower that can mean both a warning/caution and death, as well as courage and protection, which I thought was very fitting for Jazz in this. I also want you to know how I envision her costume, I would draw it but I cant draw (I tried drawing Jazz. It did NOT work).
I mostly think of a black outfit, to counter the white of the agents, with her hair free and a full mask. I also think that she has glowing purple accents, to go along with her name, and because I think it looks cool. Just imagine the most badass, coolest thing you can and you're there. If I'm being honest I was also imagining her demeanor to be a bit like Jinx from Arcane while she's fighting, just slightly (a lot) unhinged and willing to do whatever in order to protect Danny.
I also want to apologize for the lack of updates, my grandpa died so it's been kind of tough for me lately. The funeral is in a couple of days, so it might be a while again before another update, but yeah. Or maybe this will spur my writing. Who knows.
Anyway, I would appreciate any constructive criticism you have to offer, and I thank you for reading!
——————————–
Taglist: @tkiesai
56 notes · View notes
kiralena · 5 months
Text
Good Omens Season 3 speculation
Contains: Showdown in heaven, Aziraphale, Crowley, the trumpet and the Metadouche.
Hid below cut to avoid spoilers.
The Metadron points at Aziraphale: 'blow that trumpet, Aziraphale, you were always meant to start the Second Coming! This is your destiny!'
Aziraphale, looking at the trumpet in the Metadron's hands. The looking up, slightly shaking his head. 'NO, I won't. I have no intention to sacrifice humanity to your stupid power games.'
The Metadron, with a slight smile: 'How predictable. Then ... what about this?'
The 'ding' of the arriving elevator catches Aziraphale's attention. The doors open, and Michael and Sandalphon dragging Crowley into heaven, pushing him down to the floor. Both of them carry bottles of Holy Water.
Aziraphale wants to run to Crowley, but Crowley just slightly shakes head. Aziraphale stopps mid-motion, looking back at the Metadron. 'Set hin free, spit spot!'
The Metadron's grin is widening, growing evil. 'we know about your little trick. It won't work a second time. Blow the trumpet, or your friend, the demon Crowley, will end to exist.'
Aziraphale's fingers wander to his face, pressing them against his lips. He knows, if he wants to save humanity, he will never feel the touch of Crowley's skin to his again. No more endless conversations. No more basking in the glowing warmth of each others love. If he refuses to blow the trumpet, there will be nothing but painfull void. An empty space in his immortal soul, which never was meant to be empty but filled with love. The only thing worth living for.
Or...
Dying.
Crowley shakes his head, so his sunglasses fall off. He looks up, locking eyes with Aziraphale. 'I trust you', he simply says, his expression shifting from confident to sad to relieved. 'Always have.'
Aziraphale's eyes fill with tears, he wants to run to Crowley, but Crowley still shakes his head. 'I trust you', he repeats, and Aziraphale exhales.
'I love you.'
And without further thought he jumps to the Metadron, grabs the trumpet and breaks it in two.
The same momenent he hears the sound of splashing water. His eyes jump back to Crowley, surrounded by white flames. There is still this expression in his eyes, warm and full of love and trust.
Aziraphale breaks down, in his ears a ringing sound and his vision going black. He doesn't hear the Metadron yelling at him, throwing the worst curses ever known at him.
Then the sound goes mute. Aziraphale lifts his head, seeing everything around him has come to an halt.
Then...
...there it is.
The glowing warmth of the soul he loves so much.
'You told me to trust you'...he whispers.
And you have, Crowley replies.
'But ... how?'
Demon, possessing is our thing, you know? I'm glad I didn't make you explode.
Aziraphale presses his fingers to his lips again. 'Crowley, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.'
Nah, don't bother, Crowley's voice shifts through his mind, but his tone is warm and happy. I'm not the one to forgive you. Forgiveness is your thing.
'You can stay as long as you want', Aziraphale whispers.
Not the first time we shared a home.
'You are my home.'
And you are mine. Always have been.
'Crowley, is it over? Did we safe humanity?'
We won't know until I start time again. Ready?
Aziraphale gets up, moving his hands over his coat to remove the wrinkles, then tightens his bowtie. 'Alright, it's time to lick some serious butt.'
It's kick, Aziraphale, remember?
Aziraphale nods, with a slight smile. 'I know, I just wanted to share this memory of the two of us heading into the lions den. Our group of two.'
Occult husbands?
Aziraphale giggles. 'I'm not occult. But ethereal sounds wrong either now. What about ... ineffable husbands?'
I like this. So, are you ready? We still don't know what is happening, now that you destroyed the key to Second Coming.
'Ready. Kick butt.'
The sound plopps back into space and Aziraphale looks around. Metadron is still yelling at him.
But ... who is this? The young woman standing next to them, no angel he has ever seen?
The young woman lifts her hand and the Metadron drops silent.
'You twisted my words, and for what?'
'Almighty, I always had no other intent than bringing you endless glory', the Metadron stumbles.
'What was so hard to understand about 'be nice to each other?'' She turns to Aziraphale, smiling across her face. 'The two of you were the only ones who understood, who followed my ineffable plan no matter what.' She snips with her finger, and Crowley appears next to Aziraphale. 'Which life do you want to live? Angel or demon?'
'I am who I am.'
GOD nods, 'then you may continue being yourself. Asking questions, being kind. And...'
She is interrupted by Arziraphale grabbing Crowley's shoulders and pulling him into a tight embrace.
God smiles, turning to the Metadron and the other angels: 'See? Was that really so hard to understand? That the ineffable plan was always about loving each other?'
'But the Second Coming ... our victory ...'
GOD waves with her hands. 'It never has been about winning something. Loving each other and embracing who you are, that is truly ineffable.'
She looks back at Aziraphale and Crowley, who are still hugging as tight as only a snake can hug somebody, and says with a bright smile: 'Now kiss already!'
And they do.
One kiss.
Another.
And many, many more.
Because: what would be the meaning of life if not filling it with love?
14 notes · View notes
hells-favorites · 21 days
Text
The Red Light (Episode 10)
Dante wakes up with a headache and finds Nolan and Floyd waiting for him outside the barracks. They discuss Typhon's potential demands and Dante's relationship with him. Inside the Capitol, they witness a disturbing scene with Mercury engulfed in flames and Typhon extinguishing them. Typhon tasks them with destroying an altar at a school for Axom's higher-ups. Dante agrees, seeking more information in return. Mercury, recovered from the ordeal, jokes about Typhon's softer side and reveals some insights into Typhon's character. The group heads to the school, where Mercury departs with a parting message for Dante to express love to Typhon occasionally. They enter the school and prepare to explore.
Dante groaned as he woke up, a slight headache stabbing the sides of his head but as he looked around, Floyd and Nolan had already left the barracks. Yawning as he stood, Dante got dressed and headed to the Capitol Building where Nolan and Floyd were sitting on the steps outside.
"Oh, look the bear woke up from his hibernation," Nolan stood up and dusted himself off, laughing from his remark.
"Nolan, I hope you get eaten by a bear. You don't have to do half the shit I have to," retorted Dante, already done with today. "And why are you guys even sitting out here? Why haven't you just gone inside?"
"He's your dad, not ours. Plus, what if he makes just me and Floyd go on a job because you were sleeping?"
"I'd have some peace for once, that's what would happen," groaned Dante as he pushed past Floyd and Nolan into the front door.
The first floor of the Capitol seemed fine but Typhon's office was empty. It was entirely clean except for a few things thrown here and there. A few cards tunneled into what seemed to be a pin cushion beside Typhon's desk. Alongside a few papers was a shot glass with discarded earrings, presumably Mercury’s, in the bottom. But Typhon and Mercury themselves weren't there.
Dante groaned and left the room, kicking doors in whenever he heard the slightest noise inside. After a few tries, the sound of Mercury’s yelps leaked through a door.
Immediately, Floyd pushed past Dante and rammed his head into the wood. The sound of the door opening was a small one, a few wobbling noises drowned out by Mercury’s yelps.
The sight inside was not a welcome one. Mercury was pushed up against a wall, trying to hold in screams, entirely engulfed in flames. Fire covered his entire body but he wasn't bleeding, nor was he blistering from the heat. Standing across from him, seemingly nervously spinning a ring between his fingers. Not even a second later, Typhon grit his teeth and put a hand on Mercury’s chest, extinguishing the flames and making him fall. Typhon caught him, holding him up by his sides and carrying Mercury like a child.
"Please, Typhon. You know it won't kill me. Just get it over with," Mercury’s words came out quiet and pained with his head on Typhon's shoulder, trying to catch his breath and unable to push out of Typhon holding him up.
"Typhon?" Dante shoved Floyd out of the way, trying to get in the room, only to be met with Typhon throwing the door closed by a dagger within a second.
A few minutes had passed before Typhon left the room. Floyd was sitting in the corner beside Nolan. Dante was leaned against the wall, flipping a dagger up in the air. The dagger clattered to the floor when Typhon opened the door.
"What the fuck happened in there, Typhon?" Dante clambered up to his feet and stood in front of Typhon, unable to see into the doorway.
"Nothing that concerns you-"
Nolan interrupted Typhon. "Leave them alone, Dante, they're fucking in there."
Typhon and Dante slowly turned to Nolan, both disgusted.
"First off, no. Mercury is nothing more than my right hand man. Second, what was happening there is none of your concern at the moment, maybe in the future, but not now," replied Typhon, somewhat angrily. "But I do have something for you all today. Mercury will lead you there, he needs a break."
"What do you need us to do, Typhon? And if I do it, will I get a bit more information?" asked Dante, slipping the knife back into his pocket.
"We will see Dante. But I will be sending you to a school for Axom's higher-ups. You'll only be there for a few days and I will keep up with you through the messengers, or through letters. Firstly, I'd just like you to explore, familiarize yourself with your surroundings. If you come across an altar, break it. Axom worships the blood God, leaving an altar will help keep the god fueling his magic."
Amongst a groan from Nolan, Dante nodded, Floyd scrambling to his feet in preparation.
"Do not send me the Raven unless you believe you will die. They know what my Raven looks like and will know you're working with me," Typhon put a hand on each of Dante's shoulders. "Stay safe, will you?"
Nolan laughed and Dante nodded in response, leaving to their horses and packing for the trip.
Nearly an hour later, Mercury came out the front door, no longer burning and no trace of any flames touching him. Mercury groaned as he jumped onto a nice black stallion, joining everyone else.
"So, Mercury," started Dante, somewhat hesitantly. "Why were you on fire?"
Mercury, surprisingly, laughed, scratching the back of his neck and fixing his hair. "That I can't tell you. Mr. Big-And-Scary up there doesn't want me to. He'll tell you eventually," Mercury paused, remembering something. "But I can tell you one thing he doesn't want you to know about him," said Mercury, in a somewhat sing-songy voice.
"Wouldn't he kill you for that? Doesn't he like, I don't know, see everything you do or something? Typhon seems like the type to do that," replied Nolan.
"Typhon wouldn't kill me! The man won't even yell at me. Sure, sure, he's killed thousands, has an affinity for torture, watches millions enter Hell, but under all that he's a softie." Mercury spoke expressively, his hands adding to each sentence. Despite burning only an hour before, he was laughing along with each thing he said.
"Sure he is," replied Dante, clicking for the horses to start moving. "Just tell us what he didn't want me to know."
"Oh, right. All that. Yeah. He loves you-"
Floyd cut off Mercury, and Dante glared at him Dante wanted to hear what Typhon thought of him. "But is he really scary?"
"Depends, what are you afraid of? He could kill you faster than you can blink but he has soft spots. He's slaughtered thousands and commands millions, but I just cannot be afraid of that face. It's a bit hard to be afraid of someone you've seen drunk off his ass."
"So you are fucking?" Nolan's joke was met with another glare from Dante.
"Oh. No, no. Never. Typhon's straight. Legally, he has to be actually. Otherwise he can't produce an heir to the throne." Mercury laughed at the end of his sentence like he couldn't hold it in.
"Then how do you know him, hm?" Nolan leaned towards Mercury jokingly, nearly steering his horse off course.
"I worked in a bar he used to visit. Then he kept visiting. We were just drinking buddies until he came up here. What a drinker he is. He could out drink sailors," replied Mercury with a laugh.
"What do you even do, Mercury? What does Typhon make you do?" asked Floyd, finally chiming in.
"I do what you guys do, partially. You guys do more mercenary work, whereas I do assassin work. Typhon points me in a direction and I'm back in his office with blood on my hands the same day. Watch," Mercury rummaged through his bag, pulling out a deck of cards, plucking out a joker and throwing it at a neighboring tree. The tree plummeted to the ground with a large crack from the card slicing through it like warm butter.
"Woah! Pretty cards," Floyd looked at the tree on the floor as their horses continued to walk away from the stump.
A few hours passed with Mercury telling various stories about his time with Typhon. How he'd met him as a young man and they'd been friends ever since, working for Typhon at first, just for fun, but it spiraled into Mercury’s promotion a few years later.
After the hours had passed, their horses reached a massive school that resembled a palace much more than it looked like a school. Mercury tossed each one of them fake school IDs and started to turn his horse around.
"Oh, and Dante, tell your dad you love him every once and awhile. It'll do you wonders. Who knows, maybe he'll even give you some of his fortune." Mercury laughed and set off back toward the Capitol building.
A few minutes of talking to school security later, they were let inside, shown to dorms and ready to explore the next day.
4 notes · View notes
messyhairdiaz · 2 years
Note
"you are the good in my life." for the prompts 💚
Sorry this took so long, I kept trying to not go the angsty angle for some reason but I was destined to so idk why I fought it lol, hope you like
The steady beep of hospital machinery shouldn’t be familiar enough to be comforting, but when Buck’s opening his eyes for the first time after being sure he was closing them for the last, it’s a hell of a sound.
He hasn’t managed to get his eyes all the way open before he coughs, a weak thing, but one that burns his chest and throat. He groans, his newfound consciousness awakening a bevy of aches and pains.
“You’re awake,” someone says next to him, voice full of awe and relief. It takes a second for his brain to catch up and realize it’s Eddie, but when he does he relaxes, pains forgotten.
“You’re ok,” he rasps, his voice rough. He remembers his mask getting cracked, letting in enough smoke to choke him, but apparently still keeping enough out to land him in a room instead of a drawer downstairs.
But more importantly he remembers Eddie, separated from him by a wall of fire. Eddie’s side had an exit, unlike Buck’s, but the last thing Buck remembers before passing out was Eddie on the other side of the flames, trying to get to him.
“Did you save me?” he murmurs, and Eddie cups his face with a hand, and Buck tilts into his palm immediately.
“Lucy and Ravi did, actually. Chim dragged me out and they brought a hose in, then carried you out,” Eddie explains. Buck forces his fuzzy vision to focus on Eddie’s face. He wants to reach up and rub away the furrow between his brows, but that feels like it would require energy he doesn’t have, so instead he creeps his hand across his own chest to grip Eddie’s wrist.
“Just glad you got out. Glad we both did,” he says, trying to reassure, and Eddie nods, but his gaze is a million miles away.
“Two weeks, Buck,” Eddie says, his voice cracking, and Buck’s heart sinks because of course he knows the significance of two weeks, and why invoking it seems to be breaking Eddie apart.
“I’m ok, Eddie,” he says, but he’s not sure Eddie even hears him.
“When you—when you collapsed. All I could do was wonder if that was it. If two weeks were all we’d been allowed. And I couldn’t decide if it would be better or worse if we’d never had those two weeks at all,” he shakes his head. “As if either answer would leave me any less destroyed.”
“Eddie, I made it, though. We’re going to have a lot more than two weeks,” Buck says, squeezing Eddie’s wrist with weak fingers. This time he gets through to him, because Eddie finally looks him in the eyes, those gorgeous browns wide and shining.
“You are the good in my life, Buck. So I need you to stay in it,” Eddie says, voice shaky with emotion.
Buck can already feel the pull of unconsciousness again, but he musters what strength he can and uses it to tug Eddie down for a sweet kiss. When their lips part Eddie stays in his orbit, pressing their foreheads together.
“I plan on it,” Buck says, as close to a promise as he can give.
Eddie grips Buck’s hand like a lifeline. “I’m going to ask you to marry me,” Eddie whispers.
Buck’s lips curl up into a smile. “Right now?”
“No. But soon. You deserve a ring, and a good speech, and a location that’s not a hospital room.”
“I don’t need any of those things.”
“But I want to give them to you.”
“Ok,” Buck agrees, his eyes growing heavier. “I’ll say yes. Whether you asked me right now, or in a week, or a month, or a year. You could’ve asked me after our first kiss and I would’ve said yes. I’ll always say yes.”
Eddie kisses him again, smirking at the little whine Buck lets out when he backs away to sit in the chair next to the bed. He doesn’t release his hand though, and Buck doesn’t feel any shame for the way he clings to it.
“Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Eddie promises, and Buck easily lets sleep claim him, knowing Eddie will stay with him, holding his hand.
Send me prompts from this list and I’ll write a ficlet ❤️
107 notes · View notes
mushroom-for-art · 1 year
Text
Nvm we're back to movie au because I'm feeling soft featuring obviously our fav @oogaboogaspookyman horrid little bastard who is no longer a horrid bastard but is now a well mannered British little bastard beloved we love the difference
Accident
It happened very quickly. An incorrectly secured light fixture crashed down onto set smashing and destroying the background pieces scattering glass everywhere and set alight. The fire spread beginning to burn all the props due to the paint that was used, background pieces set alight in a blink, it crawled up the background canvases and spread across the rafters, the lights cracking fizzling out with loud bangs sending the building into darkness and panic.
A support beam collapsed over a fire escape as employees screamed and panicked they ran around coughing desperate for an exit one of them grabbed a fire extinguisher to put out the source but was grabbed by the monochrome Mewtwo who snarled about it being an electrical fire from the light you idiot. May coughed her lungs becoming tight as she looked around with difficulty through the quickly gathering smoke and smog, she was in a panic stuck to the spot. She could see her brother lying on the floor, his head was bleeding. He'd been knocked out as a dark Mewtwo stood over him trying to get the debris off of him.
Screams of panic ringed in her ears making her head throb, why weren't the sprinklers turning on? Oh god were they going to die in here? Burn alive due to inadequate safety measures. There were so many people and pokemon here too many lives that'd be too much death. Coughing screaming yelling panic. More people were collapsing or lying down to escape the smoke for air as it filled up the room heavily weighing down on them all. She couldn't let everyone in here die!
The monochromatic Mewtwo felt the tingling of psychic energy in his fingertips like electricity and before he could yell at May ask what the hell she was doing- he was outside. They were all outside. He spun on the spot levitating slightly looking around in a frenzy, the building crackled and the fire raged on. Everyone was out. No. Not everyone.
"May!"
He yelled quickly flying overhead scanning through the crowd of people that had been teleported out the building he flew down towards her manager, the odd dark hued mewtwo with crystals embedded in her body.
"Wheres May?!"
He half asked half demanded as the Two tended to Matts injuries.
"Is she not out here? I saw her eyes glowing?" She asked shushing Matt who groaned and pushed him down gently when he tried to sit up groggily asking where his sister was.
"If she was out here I wouldn't be asking where she was!"
The frustrated monochrome two snarled at her before looking back at the building in growing horror as he heard a loud creak realizing that she was still inside and hadn't been able to get out.
Without really thinking he flew rapidly at the building, being a ghost had its advantages as he phased through the wall keeping an incorporeal state to avoid the effects of smoke as he looked around frantically. The building was thick with black billowing smoke that rolled in waves blocking his view. He couldn't use psychic to move it as it had nowhere to go and it could shove air into the fire. He frantically scanned around, focusing to sense her aura.
In his altered vision he spotted a faint orange glow that began to flicker and falter weakening and quickly flew towards it, she was on the floor passed out either from smoke inhalation or exhaustion from teleporting that many people out of a building with her already weak powers or both. He became corporeal and coughed against the smoke and the horrible heat as he wrapped his arms under hers to haul her up to carry her.
"I'm not letting you die here you blithering idiot,"
He chastised as he pulled her up attempting to hold her and realizing she was heavy as dead weight and the growing smoke in his lungs was weakening his strength, not to mention the flames were creeping in starting to stretch out and lick at his tail and legs in a way that would likely burn. He snorted frustrated, he pulled her up, arms wrapping around her waist as she made a soft mumble noise.
He realized that flames were closing in, his eyes were watering from smoke and heat as he coughed, he could become ghostly while he had the strength but then he wouldn't be able to interact with her, he could save himself but he wouldn't! He wouldn't just let her die here and save his own skin. He hissed as a flame splashed against him snarling towards it before coughing, breathing becoming harder. He heard another long drawn out creak, and a snap, and a fall. Another support beam came falling down right on top of them, he dropped to a crouch holding his body over hers desperate to summon any strength left into a barrier or any kind of protection.
Another crash could be heard from the building, it took multiple staff members and Pokemon to hold back Matt and Darkness, Matt screamed and yelled profanities at them telling, no, demanding them to let him go because his sister was in there. Darkness also shouted at them to see sense that both the mewtwo in that building inch closer to death every second they waste stopping them. They both went quiet as a large flame burst out from the roof of the building with a loud BOOM.
Matt crumbled in the grip of the people restraining him, falling to his knees as he began to sob in despair and pain. Darkness could only stare forward at the raging flames and thick smoke.
It took hours for the fire department to put the flames out, they were aggressive and unrelenting and the thick smoke meant the trained personnel needed to swap out to a safe distance to regain their breath. When the fire finally dimmed to a manageable flicker it was growing dark, the fire had started in the afternoon…
Search and rescue began their job and once more Darkness was restrained, she wasn't trained like they were, they knew how to move rubble without causing it to collapse elsewhere potentially crushing any survivors, she did not. She could only watch in frustration as they slowly methodically did their job. She'd refused care due to her wounds already healing from the synergy energy, Matt had to be given light sedatives for his aggression so he was more, agreeable, about being taken away to be seen for his head injury and assorted burns.
A Gurdurr and Medicham worked together, the Medicham scanning the surroundings with psychic energy to get a mental blueprint of the chaos and carefully instructing Gurdurr on which parts to lift to safely deconstruct the wreckage without causing it to collapse. The Gurdurr carefully threw aside a large ceiling concrete slab before vocalizing to the Medicham. A swirling white and black dome like shape sat planted into the ground with debris piled on top of it. The Medicham vocalized to the other pairs to come help as they began to remove the debris, the human supervisors coming along too, as the broken building was removed the dome seemed to reduce in opacity becoming semi see through.
Inside May and the monochromatic Mewtwo clung to one another desperately, his eyes were shut with dark psychic energy pouring out from the sides of his closed eyes waving and flowing out. May's eyes were wide open but unseeing, completely whitened over and glowing faintly with her psychic energy. Neither of them seemed aware of the situation both just clinging as the dark and white psychic energy protecting them both swirled around them both desperately wanting to protect the other, forming one rather indestructible long lasting protect.
When the last piece of debris was safely removed one of the human search and rescue members gently knocked their knuckles against the very dense protect dome, "can you two hear us?" May's eyes faltered into half lids her psychic energy sparking and fading from her eyes and the dome, she blinked slowly and blinked again before slumping completely limp in the monochrome ones arms as her grip slipped from him, his eyes opened in a start the dark psychic energy overflowing from his eyes darkening the dome over as he snarled before he blinked realizing that it was help. His psychic energy gently blew away in a breeze before he shivered at the cold.
The psychic search and rescue members lifted May's unconscious body onto a stretcher to be taken to an ambulance while the people attempted to look the monochromatic one over. He shoved them away flying up and wobbling slightly in tiredness but followed them into the ambulance taking up the relative seat in the ambulance next to May as they began trying to help her much to Darkness' frustration at the audacity. He slapped away attempts to look him over, snarling at the ambulance worker to focus on the unconscious one, not him.
——————————————————————
The monochrome ones' leg bounced irritated and frustrated as he sat in a chair next to the orange hued Mewtwos hospital bed. He'd been forcefully seen to, so his wounds were bandaged up and he'd been given oxygen and instructions to not go near lung irritants and just to take cough drops for his throat and rest and get sleep. However sleep he would not do, he'd been up all night besides her having left his own bed watching over her in her room, her smoke inhalation had been worse than his as was her burns, she had a breathing mask on to help ensure she got enough oxygen which also acted as a filter that helped remove the lingering smoke in her lungs with each exhale. He'd dragged a night nurse into the room in a panic when he noticed her condition becoming worse, her over exhaustion leading to sickness and a fever so she'd been put on some drip fluids too due to how weakened she was from over exerting herself with her powers.
He'd paced the room multiple times, aggressively straightening the curtains to ensure no moonlight crept in and disturbed her, made sure the blanket properly covered her and tucked her in, fluffed her cushion, checked her medical sheet and that she was hooked up properly multiple times. As of right now he was gently holding her wrist, his fingers pressing faintly to feel her pulse, just to be sure the machines were correct that's all. He sighed softly hanging his head as his leg bounced, the TV in the room mumbled nonsense that he couldn't make out as he was actively ignoring it, especially as it was talking about the fire, his fingers moved down her wrist brushing over her palm hesitantly choosing to rest his two main fingers in her palm pressing them against her hand and squeezing with his thumb at the back of her hand, an unsure hand squeeze without committing to a full hand hold.
He was beginning to grow frustrated ready to aggressively sort her room out again when her thumb twitched and the best it could, squeezed his fingers against her palm. He looked up to see her eyes barely open as if her eyelids were incredibly heavy which they probably were for her.
"Who's getting sued…?" Her voice was incredibly small and croaked before she coughed realizing she definitely shouldn't have spoken. He panicked slightly moving his hand and getting a glass of water for her saying gently,
"hey hey easy,"
He carefully adjusted her bed position so it slowly lifted her into a slanted sitting position not perfectly upright just so she'd still be resting and comfortable, he carefully helped pull back the breathing mask and held the glass to her lips with psychic encouraging her to take small sips less she start coughing again, refusing to move his hand from where it gently half held hers.
When she'd drank about half he put it down and replaced the mask as she breathed and smiled at him, her hand shifted and squeezed his properly holding it, "if you wanted to hold hands you could've asked, didn't need to burn a building down." She made a soft laugh as she squeezed his hand again, her usual cheery joking self despite what happened.
His mouth opened slightly and shut in surprise both at the fact they were now just squeezing each others hands and that was embarrassing and also the accusation though empty.
"I'll burn this whole goddamn building down,"
He chuntered unhappily before pausing and looking back at May.
"Hold on, no, you do not get to get out of this so easy by joking around, what the hell were you thinking?! You could've died?! Why didn't you teleport yourself out with everybody else!"
Admittedly his tone was a lot harsher than he'd meant it to be as May stared at him in surprise before her eyes looked away from him.
"I'm, sorry, I wasn't really, thinking about saving me, just that I couldn't let everyone else die. And even then you still got hurt," her voice was soft and guilty.
The monochrome one stared at her a bit before looking away he went to open his mouth to speak.
"Wait, where's Matt? Is he okay?! I saw his head bleeding? Did he get help?!" May tried to sit herself up and he gently but firmly pushed her back down.
"Your brother is fine he's in another room getting spoiled by some male nurses, now would you STOP thinking about everybody else and fucking think about yourself in this?! You have horrid burns, you inhaled so much smoke and you got a feverish sickness because your body was so weak and overworked! What if I hadn't found you or realized you weren't outside with us?! There's a very real chance you could've died in that fire! I could've- we. We could have lost you. And you have a lot of people who care about you. So why don't you?"
May gripped the bed sheets uncomfortably as she sat there again avoiding his gaze as his eyes softened and he frowned at her. She shrugged uncomfortably and he could see her struggling for the words and the anxiety prickling inside her. He gently squeezed her hand waiting to give her a fair chance to answer.
"....I just don't find that there's much to care about.." Her voice was riddled with guilt as she struggled, "I know, well just, I know compared to a lot of others that I'm, different." She moved her spare hand vaguely, "and, that, made it hard to connect to people, and as well I'm weak, I mean a mewtwo who can't even use her powers properly for herself, pft. Don't have much going for me overall. I know I'm, loud and optimistic and seem confident and sure but, I don't really like myself. Not really. I don't know. Maybe some horrid self pitying self obsessed part of myself believed I didn't really deserve to be saved like everyone else so that's why I wasn't teleported out too, and I guess maybe that self absorbed part of me went well look at that now we can't do anything because you used up all your strength and you're going to let yourself die because you're so pitiful and weak just to what make a point." She shrugged awkwardly, grabbing at her shoulder, "you got hurt because overall I'm a bad person, too obsessed with myself, I mean I'm a lot luckier than other people. I'm much better off than other people and yet here I am feeling sorry for myself and not liking myself. How selfish is that?" She squeezed her own shoulder to self soothe as the guilt began to creep in. "God I'm sorry, I shouldn't have dumped all that on you, here I am again being the biggest selfish, no, no I'm sorry I'm, spiralling you don't need to hear me insult myself because that just manipulates you into having to pity me and tell me it's fine and it's okay when it's not an-"
He moved the mask using his free hand to put a finger on her lips to stop her spiral rambling as he frowned at her softly.
"I don't think you're selfish, I don't think you're physically capable of being selfish, mostly because of your lack of healthy boundaries, but also because you're a good person and sharing and being kind is part of your nature. You're not a bad person for being unhappy even if you think you should be. You're more complex than just the happy May you always are with people."
He moved his finger but pointed threateningly when she opened her mouth.
"No shut up, I'm still talking. You know how I know that you're a good person even when that voice of doubt tells you you're wrong? Do you remember how we first met?"
May blinked but nodded, opening her mouth before being shushed again.
"Shut."
She smiled playfully, closing her mouth to listen.
"You came right up to me when I was lurking in the background with your drink and two brownies from the food table and you smiled at me and introduced yourself right to me, you said you were absolutely over the moon to meet and be working with me, that you'd seen my other shows upon learning we'd be coworkers and that you thought I was really talented and amazing. I know back then I just stared at you as you offered my one of the brownies you'd taken saying you got me one since I was so far away, you know why I was staring? Because you were the first person I've ever worked with to walk right up to me and introduce themselves with unfaltering kindness and warmth."
He glanced away as he spoke.
"The reason I was so far away is because a lot of the time everyone on set that I'm working with is absolutely terrified of me, which I get, it's the eyes I think. But you didn't seem afraid at all."
He looked back at her.
"You have probably brightened so many peoples' days by existing, and I know that voice probably tells you that you're different or weak or secretly evil or whatever insults and feelings you've internalized, but you bring out so much kindness to everyone no matter what."
May squeezed his hand unsure of how to even respond, mouth opening and closing as she struggled. His other hand came to hold hers squeezing her one hand with both of his.
"When you're better, I think we should look into some therapy for you because if you couldn't teleport out because a part of you believes you didn't deserve to be okay then I am really deeply concerned about that because I never want you in that situation again okay?"
May nodded softly as he squeezed her hands again softly confirming an "okay." He smiled softly at her as he gently put his forehead to her hand that he still held.
"You're a big sweetheart ya know, even if you are a horrid drink stealer" May softly spoke and he chuckled knowing she was deflecting slightly now with humor as she usually did from heavier topics but clearly speaking fondly of him.
"Hmm. Just don't go telling anybody."
"I won't." She squeezed his hands the best she could. "I think you're real great too you know, I'm glad you're in my life you do make it better." And he smiled softly to himself.
#I could've-we. We could've lost you#I'm not letting you die here#My writing#Mewtwosona May#@oogaboogaspookymans ???#@oogaboogaspookyman oc#Tw fire#I gave them loreeeee I gave them back storyyyy oh noo I'm soft they're soft the joke ship thoughts they're getting me AAAHH#I am dragged away into the ocean lmao#??? Is big soft on May. That's HIS little ray of sunshine thank you very much she gave him brownie#Also May honey are u okay (she is not)#May is the kind of character who seems fine happy perky friendly optimistic loud joyful and she absolutely hates herself#Like I mean working in movie biz probably does that to you but also the autism coding and the powerlessness#To some degree yes the self loathing hatred of I don't deserve saving their lives are more important/god you self important self pitying#Self sacrificing proving a point cause you're the WORST horrid voices did contribute to her inability to escape#But also she was heavily prioritising everyone else and drained probably all her PP in teleport#Like everything she does is mentally criticised by herself because actually you're just faking everything. Bitch.#Baby girl that is called the mental illness#??? Like plz get therapy holy shit I'm worried about you#And also 👀🤔🤨 kinda sus#And waiting around at her bedside? Sus lmao#He CARES he has a lot of care in him lmao likes this person a lot#Also deflects with humor a mood#Originally Matt was meant to attempt to get in the room and ??? Was gon slam the door shut and lock it because no he's not sharing May yet#And May was gonna jokingly call him an overprotective husband like aw my hubby has spoken he's so protective lmao while he's like shshshh#Also lmao I love that movie?? Gets the dialogue like font change but not the bold XD it's my way of differentiating only bad boys get bold#Also!! He cares so much I'm screaming#Fungal Spooks Studio
6 notes · View notes
scopop08 · 1 year
Text
Little Soldier by The Crane Wives is such a treebark coded song, and i will be elaborating.
On the broken backs of all the words we spared
Like little soldiers in the trenches
It was a march we made towards ruin and despair
But we held hands all the while
Holding everything they wanted to say to spare the other, carrying on despite everything, hand in hand, leading themselves to their own destruction. The literal war they were in, holding on to the slim and fast fading hope of victory and steadying eachother through.
I swear that I loved you
Oaths sworn to the other, taking that trust and love and looking on it in retrospect, saying "I'm sorry. I knew we couldn't win. I know everything I said and did. I swear that I loved you then despite what happened."
Beneath the table you would offer up my bones
And all the dogs would lick your fingers
This applies more to Ren, offering himself up to the Red King, letting the flames and hunger consume him as the Red King's influence tore through Ren's original intent and kindness. Being worn down completely.
And I dragged you through every room inside our home
But you still held me at night
What Ren put Martyn through the entire time, having to behead the person closest to you, watching as every bit of who you once loved is stripped away by the fear and violence he had created. Staying by his side through it all. Being a loyal hand to the crown that is consuming everything you stood for, seeing your ideals slip away right before your eyes. No matter what Ren put Martyn through, Martyn couldn't leave him, he was in too deep. It's his home too.
I swear that you loved me
Martyn seeing the Red king destroy Ren, steadying himself in his cause with the memory of what Dogwarts was when it was just Renchanting. Reminiscing on the nights they spent together in that terribly cold basement, the look in Ren's eyes as he promised Martyn that they wouldn't only survive, but win. How the dog's face lit up as he talked about enchanting, how his smile softened as he looked at him. Ren loved Martyn, Martyn swears it. No matter what was happening at the end, how much of Ren was left. He loved Martyn.
We didn't give up, we wouldn't dare surrender
It was an honest loss
Self explanatory, they fought their hardest until their last moments, protecting their home. (Protecting the person that was their home). Dying at their own alter, hearts and teeth laid bare.
Now the aftermath will ring with songs you've sung
All of our words sent home in boxes
The battle of Dogwarts, the mark the two left, would signal the very beginning of the end. Nothing would last much longer after, directly responsible for the outcome of the series, even though they wouldn't live to see it.
I fought with tooth and nail before the flag had flown
But you were already gone
Martyn was fighting for Ren and by Ren's side since the very beginning when he stumbled across Renchanting. In tandem, the Ren that began third life with Martyn was gone before the final battle of Dogwarts, before the flag had even been made, much less flown. Martyn fought for his king until his final moments, if there were no weapons we wouldn't have hesitated to stake his life in a battle of bare fists to protect Ren. Ren who, by that point, was long gone, hollowed out by the fury of the Red King and used as a vessel for blind violence. Martyn could've looked Ren in the eyes as they both bled out on the alter and instead of any recognition that his partner was laid there, dying before him, he would've seen the eyes of a wild animal. Terrified and furious, ready to chew it's own limbs off before it surrended to death.
I'll swear that I loved you
Both of them justifying the outcome to themselves as they fall through the void of death before moving on to whatever would come next. They'll swear that it all happened because of the love that they held for each other. Ren never would have summoned a war god and let it tear out everything that he stood for until he was an empty shell if he didn't think it would protect Martyn. He was sacrificing himself in the hope that the act would allow them to win, Martyn to live. Martyn only stayed once everything started to fall apart because of his love for Ren. Because he was desperately clinging onto the fond memories of before the real war started.
They have to swear that it all happened because they loved each other, because if they didn't, all of it would be meaningless. Everything they put the other through had to have happened out of love, because otherwise it would've been out of cruelty, a mutually assured destruction.
11 notes · View notes
meg-moira · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
I did the thing. Based on this writing prompt!
.
.
What am I, you ask?
It was a question I, too asked myself, once upon a time. I ask it no longer, because I don’t much see the reason in dwelling upon questions which have no definitive answers.
I can tell you what others think I am. Will that satisfy your curiosity?
An aged deity they call me. A minor one, of course. For they know I never laid claim to the vast domains of the Great Gods. War, Knowledge, Death are all grand pursuits, but they are not to my tastes.
Besides, I would never claim anything so specific. To those who live in the village beneath my humble temple, I am the warmth of a tended hearth, the safety of home - and the joy of returning to it.
It is a quiet village, you know. And I know my people by look and by voice. They take turns climbing the steep hill to tend my temple.
I settled here for a reason.
Did you notice my temple? It’s nice, is it not? Wooden, round, and short enough that the adults must bend to enter. Inside, two rows of candles illuminate walls lined with dangling shells dug from deep within the earth. Shelves are stacked with pebbles, feathers, twigs, and flowers. Gifts from my followers and requests I planted in the minds of my most devout.
At the center of it all, bathed in the candles’ butter yellow light sits a gleaming stone. It is opalescent and a pretty enough sight to behold. It was recovered generations ago, a layer or two beneath the dug-up shells.
The humans believe that I reside in the Everstone. That’s what they call it. Everstone. It’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?
I don’t. Live in the Everstone, that is. I don’t believe I live anywhere in particular.
Occasionally I sit in the stone, just for fun. I warm it sometimes when my followers’ reverent fingers brush the grooves. I like the sound of their surprise and delight. Other times I perch upon the temple’s roof, and drink up light from the first and second sun. And on rare instances, I expend the energy to make myself just corporeal enough to walk upon the hillside and feel the grass between my toes. I only allow my most favorite devotees to see me like this. It is strange and awkward to have limbs and take up space. I only do it because the sensation of touch is so entirely captivating.
Those who glimpse my walking form see someone who looks human in the same way that a painting of an ocean resembles the cold, untamable tides. I take up space, and within that space is the suggestion of personhood. They see a figure draped and hooded in ethereal white, brown skinned and with a face whose features are vague and changing. Human faces fascinate me, and I cannot always make up my mind about the features I want for my own. I-
Why would you interrupt me?
Did you not trudge your ugly boots up this steep hill to seek me out? And if you’ve come, as you say, from lands afar - why would you not want to make conversation?
...Could it be that it is not me you seek, but the one who, even now, lies crumpled and half dead upon my temple floor?
That is the truth of it. I can see it in your terrible war-bright eyes. You are no more human than the one who bleeds ichor on my nice wooden planks.
No. No. Don’t go lifting your ugly spiked weapon just yet. I’m not done talking. I can’t talk with the humans. At least, not like this. And the god currently bleeding in my temple wasn’t much able to make conversation.
He staggered up the hillside not an hour before you arrived. He had taken far more care in the crafting of his physical form than I, and I’d guessed right away that he was one of the visible gods. Likely in possession of both power and desire enough to parade himself about for his followers. To drape his body, wrapped in opulent cloth, across the velvet couch upon his temple dais.
Yes, I made the last part up. I don’t know that he liked to drape himself across couches like a subject waiting to be painted, but with his raven black hair, muscles sculpted by an undoubtedly delicate hand, and a pretty face which did not shift like mine was wont to do, he fit the part well enough.
His fine clothes were ripped and bloody when he staggered up my hillside. And his hair, which looked to have once been drawn back in a sleek braid, was mostly dragged loose, falling in wisps and tangles. His pretty face was cut and broken, and when he pressed a shaking hand upon my wooden walls, he left a smear of ichor, brutal and golden beneath the suns.
“Sanctuary,” he murmured, and his voice was cracked and broken as the rest of him.
I could have barred my door. He might have once been powerful, but it had been cruelly beaten out of him by something.
You, I presume.
No. Enough with the weapon waving. I said I was talking.
I let him in. Don’t ask me why. Maybe stripped of his power, he reminded me of my village devotees. Or maybe I just didn’t want his divinely made flesh to stink up my lawn.
He stumbled in as soon as I opened the door, and immediately collapsed, one hand clutching what was surely a severe wound in his side. If he was as human as he appeared, I’m sure he would have died.
No, he’s not dead.
It was touch-and-go for a while. But, as I’m sure you know, gods are not so easy to kill.
I helped him, pouring some of my own energy into his form. It was like feeding oxygen to a faltering flame. As I worked, he lay limp as a doll, lips half pressed to my wooden floor as his voice rasped, filling the room.
His people call him Praesaro. He told me of how you killed a great number of them, cutting a path so you might reach him. His tears of saltwater and gold dampened the temple floor as he spoke, and where they slipped between the slats of wood, wild clovers sprouted from the soil. His throat was dry and grief-wrung, but I did not need to hear him to feel his overwhelming, aching loss. He’d seen his followers cut down, all while he, their glorious protector, was powerless to stop you.
You smile. Does pain amuse you?
I see. It is not just any pain you seek, but a god’s pain. You cared not for the city you slew, did you? You only wanted the god who protected it. So are you the God Devourer of which the wind has been whispering of late?
I hear conflicting tales of you. The wind says that you came from the skies - or perhaps the heavens. The rocks deep within the earth say that you are not of this world. And the oceans say you smell of strange waters. But all of them are in agreement on this point: You come to consume. And you will not leave until your boundless appetite has feasted upon this world.
And now you do lift that monstrously spiked weapon. You intend to destroy my temple and crush the last of the divine life from poor Praesaro - I can see it in the set of your jaw, the way you bare those sharpened teeth.
You intend to devour me too. In my little temple on this little hill, I probably seem nothing more than a snack to you. But before you unhinge your salivating jaw, dear god eater, let me ask you this:
Do you know why I remain here, on this little hill, above this little village?
It is because I like it here.
Do you feel that? The way the earth trembles beneath your bloodied boots? Or perhaps you’ve noticed the wind and how it nips at your skin. And what about the clouds that darken, bearing down upon my little temple on this single, lonely hill.
I was not entirely honest when I told you that I do not know what I am. Or rather, I have a guess.
You see, I remember when oceans covered these hills, and I remember when tiny creatures filled the shells which are strung up in my temple. I knew where each had burrowed, because they were buried in my soil. The feathers collected for my temple were carried here on my wind. And the pebbles smoothed in my streams.
To these people, I am a minor god, because that is how I wish to be perceived.
But for you, Devourer of Gods, I will deign to stretch out, unfurl.
You came to feast upon gods, little one. I wonder, how will you contend with a world?
.
You can support my writing on Patreon!
960 notes · View notes
lily-drake · 2 years
Text
Photograph
Based on
Thank you @johannaiii for letting me write this!!!! It was so much fun and it was a really good prompt!
Talia didn’t like the process of giving birth, in fact she loathed it.  She swore she would never, and she meant never do it again.  But when she was giving birth, and she found out that she was having twins, and she got to hold her children that she sacrificed and suffered for, she loved them.  When she learned that one of them was a girl, she knew that her father would be furious and demand her death.  So she immediately summoned one of the monks from the Tibetan temple that her father was allying with and gave them the girl.  She demanded that they train her and protect, and that she would never, ever be mentioned to Ra’s.  She even killed the nurses who helped her give birth to make sure that there was no one left who would know.  It wouldn’t be hard to find replacements for them anyways, it’s not like their lives were significant.  They had served out their use, now there was no need for them.  When it was time she presented her son, Damian, to her father claiming him to be the only child and heir to the Demon’s Head.  Ra’s was very pleased with her and she felt pride at being able to carry out her task properly that her father was very much pleased with her and her child.
Even though Marinette, as she had named the child before she had given her up, was no longer in the league, she made sure she was still in her daughter’s life.  Once every year she left for “training” purposes with Damian and went to the ancient temple in Tibet to visit her daughter and make sure that the two siblings got to spend time with each other.  Marinette was growing up so fast and the monks would report to her of her daughter’s progress.  They told her that Marinette was destined for greatness and to be a powerful leader, and that pleased Talia greatly.  The man in charge of her daughter's training, Master Wang Fu, would show her photos of her daughter and her accomplishments; she wished that she would be allowed to do the same for Damian.  But the League and the Temple of Order, while partners, were two separate entities when it came to how they were trained and taught.  She smiled as she saw her children sparing on the temple’s grounds, each assessing how strong the other had become since their last meeting a year ago.
They were both 6-years-old now, and Marinette had lost one of her top baby teeth.  She wore the traditional light blue training robes the monks wore while Damian wore his traditional black and red armor with his katana sheathed on his back.  She watched her children and a small smile graced her lips as she watched the two.  They were opposites in almost everything, yet they were still so similar.  Damian’s fighting was aggressive and forceful while Marinette’s focussed on out maneuvering and tiring out the opponent from a distance before striking where it hurt the most.  Their personalities were like fire and ice with Damian being aggressive and mighty while Marinette was soft and humble.  Damian was assertive and forceful in the way he spoke, while Marinette was gentle and descriptive.  Though, like she said before they had many similarities that helped to cement their relationship.  They both were very artistic, in battle they both would get up and personal with their challenger if given the opportunity, both were very intelligent and soaked everything up like a sponge, and both were highly competitive.  The sound of metal being hit together sounded from the training grounds as Damian and Marinette fought with their respective weapons; Damian with his katana and Marinette with her two daggers.
“You’ve definitely improved since the last visit, 'ukht, but so have I.”
Damian announced as he went in to sweep his sister’s legs all while bringing his blade down towards her.  Marinette used her daggers to lift Damian’s blade and flipped backwards as Damian tried to perform his strike.  She was very flexible and graceful when she was in the air.  It sometimes looked as if she were flying when she performed some of her stunts.
“Maybe you have, Xiōngdì, but I seem to still have the upper hand.”
Marinette replied with smugness dripping from her voice as her brother glared at her.  Marinette carefully crafted her words to manipulate while Damian spoke his mind and used his to order and command.  They were opposites, but they completed each other in a way few will ever know.
The day Damian and Talia were to begin their trek back down the mountain Fu ran up to Damian and placed a piece of paper in his hands.  He bowed respectfully to the old man and looked at the picture.  It was a picture the old man had taken a few days ago.  Marinette was smiling brightly and had her arm around his shoulder while he had his arms crossed in front of him and leaned into his sister’s touch with a small smirk.  They were both in their training clothes and stood in front of the mountains that hid and protected the Temple of Order.  He smiled at it and glanced at his sister who was waving goodbye with a big sad smile.  He simply nodded and left not knowing that this would be the last time he would for many years that he would lay eyes on her once again.
~~~~~~~~~~
The Order, it was gone, destroyed!  Marinette felt tears rush down her face as she watched her friends and mentors perish in the flames of miraculous magic gone astray.  She could feel the cold wind passing by her as Master Fu dragged her away, but she couldn’t remove her gaze from her home that was falling into pieces.  What would Damian think, she had to leave something for him to let him know she was okay!  But she was never given the chance because she couldn’t pull away from her master.  They were the last ones left, and Marinette couldn’t wrap her mind around it at all.
~~~~~~~~~~
Damian and Talia hiked the trial many months later, and as they neared the top they could sense something was definitely off.  The top of the temple would usually be in view by now. When they finally reached the top they froze as they saw the ruins of the burned and destroyed temple in front of them.  Talia was the first to break from her daze and ran to the ruins searching through them to find any remains of her daughter.  Damian soon joined his mother, but it was no use.  Damian and Talia believed the worst had happened to her, and with silent tears flowing down his face he stabbed his sword into the ground in front of the burnt remains and fell onto his knees in front of it.  The sword would serve as a gravestone for the fallen warriors here, but it specifically would serve as Marinette’s grave marker.  She was a brave warrior, one of the best, and she was gone now.  Talia stood by her son’s side and soon kneeled in front of it as well with her hand placed on her son’s shoulder.  As they traveled down the mountain Damian swore that he would never be vulnerable again, he would never care about anyone ever again, because the pain he felt was too intense and never wanted to feel it ever again.
So both He and Talia took on more missions, Talia was rarely at the base, always gone doing whatever her father needed.  The training in Tibet never happened again, and Damian grew closer to his grandfather.  He trained harder, attacked ruthlessly, and channeled all his pain and rage into his strikes.  He held onto the photo that Fu had given him of the two of them so many years ago.  He had it tucked away in a secret place in his room where no one would ever find it, because he wanted to keep her with him in some way.  Never again, he wouldn’t be hurt like before ever again.
~~~~~~~~~~
Marinette lived with Master Fu in a tea parlor under the guise of Marin Fu.  She helped him run his parlor and distribute his charms to the people through the teas she brewed while he placed charms on people through the massage therapy he did.  Fu let her be home schooled as she already knew way more than any normal school could teach her.  She would just be repeating things when she could be learning more new material.  She was also taught how to better practice her magic and use the miraculous.  She was going to be the new guardian one day, she was going to be the last guardian one day, and that thought scared her and brought back all of the nightmares.  She locked that night and anything before the fire back up in her mind only remembering what she needed to when she needed to.
Fu wanted her to interact with people though, so with the money he made he sent her to a gymnastics class where she could still retain her skills and get better at them.  She honestly loved the classes and she felt so free when she did them.  Nobody could beat her, in fact she advanced to level 10 quickly and was well on her way to the elite by the time she was 13.  And that’s when Hawkmoth struck Paris.
Lady Rouge and her partner Chat Noir made a decent team, but he was nowhere near her skill level which often annoyed her.  He wasn’t a true black cat, her brother was.  He was her balanced counterpart, and this cat was just a stand in.  And as time went on the imbalance continued the boy became corrupted by the destructive energy of the ring.  She had continually told Master Fu about it, but he would not listen.  And then it was time for him to pass, and she became the grand guardian, the last grand guardian.  Tears fell down the young 15-year-olds face as she watched her mentor's spirit leave him in his peaceful slumber.  He was so old, and it was just his time for him to go, but now she had nowhere to go, but she knew what she had to do.
“Hello, M’lady.”
Chat Noir said in a flirty tone as he spun his staff as if the speed he was doing it at would impress her.
“Hello, Chat.”
She replied terse with her arms crossed in front of her as she leaned on the railing of the Eiffel Tower and gazed at the sky that held little stars due to all of the lights of the city below them.
“Are you not excited to see your soulmate?  Come on M’lady,”
He said grabbing one of her hands with a large smile and deep voice,
“let me take you out somewhere, just the two of us.”
It took everything in Marinette not to break his wrist in that moment, but she had to play along.
“Okay.”
Chat’s eyes widened and his leather tail began to move side to side in an excited manner.
“W-wait, really?!”
“You know what, ya.  This week has been really tough and I could use it.”
Chat’s smile turned into a smirk and a dark twinkle lit up his eyes.  He took a step back and held his hand, his ringed hand, out for her to take.  SHe smiled at him gently and innocently and took his hand, and as he was about to pull her forward she took hold of the rings and ripped her hand off, taking the ring with her.  There was a blonde boy with green eyes staring at her with shock and hurt written all over his face, then eventually anger.
“I am revoking you from being able to wield the Black Cat Miraculous.  You are not compatible to wield this power as you are not my balanced counterpart.  The ring has been corrupting and harming you after all of your exposure to it when you are not the right one to wear it while I hold the earrings.  Thank you for the help you have given me in the past, but I’m afraid that I can not risk hurting you any longer.”
The boy stared at her with wide shocked eyes and nodded.  She could see that he too had now noticed the change as with the ring it didn’t feel like he changed at all.  She helped him get to his house and left after shaking his hand and thanking him one last time for his help.  And as she was about to leave the property she heard the sound of something above her opening and through the now open window she saw an akuma flying out of it.
She quickly caught the akuma and crashed through the glass window into the dark room.  Before Hawkmoth could even realize what had happened she had tied him up in her yo-yo and he was pinned in place with the tight cord.  If she pulled it any tighter it would cut into his skin and draw blood.  She grabbed the broach from the middle of the suit --which was as hideous as his akuma designs, if not worse-- and watched the man detransform making sure the camera on her yo-yo recorded the whole thing.
“You will be subject to the curse of whatever your abused kwami sees fit for you, and then the people of Paris will have you.”
Was all she said as she brought the man onto his knees so he could properly respect the kwami and the God’s they are.  Nooroo appeared and stared down at the man in front of him with an angered fiery glare.
“Gabriel Agreste, you have abused me and my miraculous for too long!  I bring upon a curse upon you, that no one will ever believe a word you say, and that your craft of manipulation will only work against you!”
And with that, pain courses through Gabriel and the wings of a butterfly were branded on the left side of his chest just above his heart.  She left soon after that and sent the footage for the police.  She watched from a distance as the police took him in, and told one of the officers that Adrien was innocent and had no connection to his father’s scheme.  Once she was sure Gabriel would not be able to escape his justice she pulled the horse miraculous from her yo-yo and summoned a portal to wherever she needed to be next.
~~~~~~~~~~
Damian was in the cave training when Todd burst in and began to run towards him with a stupid smug grin on his face.  Damian rolled his eyes and watched Todd stop in front of him holding something small and flimsy in his hand.
“Demon Spawn,”
He breathed out, his smug smile growing wider,
“Did you have a girlfriend in the league?”
Damian was….confused.  He had no such thing, but as Todd showed him the thing in his hand his blood froze.  It was the photo of him and Marinette.  How did he find it?!  Why did he even have it?!
“Give it back, Todd.”
Damian growled lowly hands gripping the hilt of his sword tightly.
“She is!  Guys, Damian had a-“
He tackled Jason after that and wrestled the photo out of his grip and held it close to him.  He glared daggers at Todd and made absolutely sure that the old photo was still intact.  Once he was sure.  Todd was back on his feet and Damian had the urge to run him through with his sword for daring to rummage through his belongings and to dare touch his picture.  He opened his mouth to spit out fiery words of anger, when a portal opened right in front of Damian.  A girl walked out of it and the portal immediately closed.  It was absolutely silent in the cave as the other occupants who were also there stared at the person.  The girl was rigid as she stared Damian directly in the eyes, and he felt a familiar pull to her.
“Kaalki, Tikki separate.  Tikki spots off.”
She spoke quickly, and her voice, and those words, and he knew who she was.  But that was impossible, because she had died, hadn’t she?!  Arms wrapped around him and he could hear sniffles and he felt his arms wrap robotically around the small frame of his sister.
“Xiōngdì, I missed you so much!  I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner!  Th-the Order was destroyed and Fu woul-wouldn’t let me leave a message, and-and someone was misusing the Butterfly in France (sniff).  And-and…..”
She took a long shaky breath in and sighed,
“I missed you so much.”
It took a while to realize that silent tears were falling down his face, and he hugged her even tighter against his chest.  Because his sister, his twin sister was alive, and she hadn’t died in the fire and destruction of the temple.
“It’s okay, 'ukht.  I’ve got you.”
They stayed like that for a few precious moments before Todd yelled,
“What the f*!”
———————
Permanent Taglist:
@aespades @adrestar
308 notes · View notes
hansolmates · 3 years
Text
busted in busan 
Tumblr media
summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k   a/n; for @suhdays​ holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits​ for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u
if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄
Tumblr media
“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.” 
You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh. 
Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans. 
Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea. 
Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease. 
“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile. 
“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head. 
“Will the weather let up?” A frown. 
Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive. 
“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.” 
You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him. 
“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment. 
“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter. 
It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first. 
“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.” 
He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.” 
“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down. 
It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care. 
“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.” 
That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him. 
He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.” 
“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.” 
“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?” 
“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.” 
“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?” 
“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.” 
The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line. 
“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.
“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot. 
“Nah, been booked since last month.” 
It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?” 
He pats his luggage as a response. 
“That’s not fair!” 
“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.” 
“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”
“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.” 
It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face. 
“You want my ticket,” he states. 
“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle. 
Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—
Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those! 
“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks. 
“Who said I was offering?” 
“I’ll pay that and then some.”
“With your rich-boy’s money?” 
If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides. 
“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”
“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake. 
“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.” 
“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate. 
“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10. 
The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy. 
“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes. 
The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes. 
“Listen, so plans have changed—”
“As always, Kook.” 
“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?” 
“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.” 
“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.” 
“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—” 
“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain. 
The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard. 
“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.
Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not. 
Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good. 
Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell. 
It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things. 
Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer? 
Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price. 
A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice. 
“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.” 
He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?” 
Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution. 
“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.” 
He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.” 
“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.” 
“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.
“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.” 
It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks. 
“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.” 
“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut. 
At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 
Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty. 
Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh. 
You huff, and shift in your seat. 
“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him. 
“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply. 
“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.” 
“Why, I’m engaged!” 
“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.” 
You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind. 
“Holy fuck, have you two not—” 
“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!” 
You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing. 
The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle. 
“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.” 
You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position. 
Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to. 
It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months. 
“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.” 
Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you. 
“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—” 
“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman. 
Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger. 
You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that. 
“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses. 
Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to. 
“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. 
You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook. 
“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams. 
“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow. 
“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside. 
The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible. 
“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat. 
When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van. 
Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back. 
You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them. 
Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off. 
Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night. 
“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet. 
As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously. 
The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots. 
“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint. 
Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure. 
Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey. 
“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?” 
Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.” 
“Do you drive around a lot?” 
“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.” 
Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach. 
“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain. 
“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.” 
“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.
“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.” 
Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute. 
The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening. 
“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!” 
You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.” 
His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.” 
“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose. 
“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?” 
“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.” 
He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like. 
It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize:  are you flirting with Jungkook? 
The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell. 
“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind. 
“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.” 
“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?” 
“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.” 
“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—” 
“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.” 
The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air. 
Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car. 
There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you. 
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt. 
“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.” 
“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?” 
“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 
He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.” 
“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.” 
Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.” 
That singular statement hits you, hard. 
Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs. 
“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.” 
“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself. 
You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable. 
“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow. 
Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route. 
“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”
You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.  
Tumblr media
The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.” 
His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath. 
The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer. 
The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.
You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours. 
Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours. 
“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?” 
“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.” 
He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook? 
All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk. 
There’s no drugs. 
In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell. 
There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real. 
Jungkook’s an artist. 
“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face. 
 “Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?” 
“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.” 
He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you. 
“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.” 
“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced. 
“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it. 
Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart. 
“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him. 
Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow. 
The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway. 
“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it. 
The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents. 
You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party. 
“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.” 
“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours. 
“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.” 
“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door. 
Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed. 
It’s been a day. 
You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him. 
It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought. 
It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face. 
Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed. 
You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks. 
Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at  a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake. 
“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox. 
Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.” 
“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.” 
The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.” 
You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.” 
“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.” 
“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?” 
“I mean, I think I’m in love.” 
Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask. 
Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.” 
“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books. 
“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.” 
“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.” 
Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of  you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble. 
The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin. 
“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you. 
“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back. 
Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.” 
“Impossible!” 
You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family. 
“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.” 
Tumblr media
Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door. 
You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers. 
You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him. 
He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window. 
“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him. 
“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.” 
“Thanks,” you smile. 
“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.” 
“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.” 
“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself. 
“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.  
“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—” 
“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.” 
You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible. 
“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.” 
“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.” 
“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.” 
“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch. 
He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking. 
“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown. 
“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.” 
“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.” 
“Will you rile me up now?” 
Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.” 
You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell. 
Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath. 
“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—” 
“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.” 
You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner. 
“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic. 
1K notes · View notes
fckwritersblock · 3 years
Text
Protection Forever - William Lennox
Lennox x Reader
Description: Running into an old flame at the worst possible time.
Warning: nah. Bad writing? Kinda. Unedited because I was excited. I’ll not when it’s been fixed. Somethings may not be fully aligned with the movie but I tried 😩
Word count: 2500+
Dedicated to @merakiaes hey fren!
All gifs from @meragifs too!
Tumblr media
You were an EMT.
The two of you pulled up to meet with the other Autobots, you exiting the vehicle before he transformed. You were in awe as he and the rest of the cars all changed.
The biggest one, their leader, gave a rundown of everything that was happening once he confirmed Sam’s identity. This was just a recap for you as Ratchet had already explained. The teenage boy just stood there stuttering not really knowing how to process everything and you frowned again. That was when you really took notice of two teens just standing there. Having known what was expected of Sam Witwicky you frowned slightly.
“I don’t know about this Ratchet, he’s just kid.” You commented to the alien you had formed a quick bond with.
“And who might you be?” The one called Optimus inquired.
You gave him your name before the other yellow autobot, who you’d later learned was Bumble Bee, uttered something through his radio. It was hard for you to hear but the other robots seemed to be use to it as Ratchet responded immediately.
“The human. I like her.” Ratchet sounding irritated.
Bumblebee made another comment and right before Ratchet could respond one of the others chimed in.
“Wait why do they get humans?” Jazz asked incredulously. “I want one too!”
“Enough! Humans are not pets.” The one call Optimus Prime stated sternly, clearly tired of their bickering. You held your laugh, highly amused.
They were like siblings. A family.
“Exactly I’m just here to help and be a better tour guide than these kids can be.” You confirmed practically forcing your services on them. “Besides they need adult supervision. From the looks of it, you all do.” You grinned at everyone around you. Optimus gave a nod, agreeing.
“She stays. Let’s move.”
In that short amount of time things moved rather quickly. You watched the Autobots accidentally destroy Sam’s backyard when attempting to retrieve the glasses, you were all arrested, you escaped thanks to the Autobots, only to be arrested again.
Fail.
Finally you ended it some secret base. How get you weren’t alone. The government had apparently been on a roll with kidnapping civilians who “knew too much “.
Things weren’t going great but quickly went left when the Decepticons, the Autobot rivals, came to retrieve Megatron.
A war from another planet had officially made Earth its battleground.
You were nervous, trying to figure out how to calm everything down before things started to escalate. Nobody was going to get anywhere with all the bickering. That’s when you saw him.
It had been what? Two years?
Still, without even knowing it, without even knowing you were present, he was still able to make your heart be slow and fast at the same time. The army had aged him, but for the better making him all the more attractive but you couldn’t focus on that right now. Especially when you heard:
“The cryogenic system is failing! We're losing NBE One!”
All the soldiers begin to pack everything that they could to prepare in a fight the way they always did. It was an mirable the way Linux game orders in his men took them without a second thought. The trust there.
“That’s good. Get all the ammo you got.”
“Everything you can carry. Bring it.”
Tearing your eyes away from your former lover you grab Sam.
“Come on, we need Bee.” You reminded him, nodding in Simmons direction
“You got to take me to my car.” Sam said, then repeated when he was ignored. “You have to take me to my car. He’s gonna know what to do with the Cube.”
“Your car? It's confiscated.”
“Then unconfiscate it.” You stared blankly.
“We do not know what will happen if we let it near this thing! -“
“You don't know.”
“Maybe you know, but I don't know.”
You rolled your eyes at the insufferable mans rambling.
This was really was more about ego who was in control more than anything. The guy running the ship, clearly was on a power trip. Unfortunately for him he was facing off against soldiers . The Captain who’s eyes you could feel staring at the side of your face.
A Captain and his soldiers. Ones that really dont like to lose and take serving their country seriously.
The guy who arrested you earlier continue to argue with Sam about getting him back to bumblebee when Lennox finally pulled out his gun sick of the back-and-forth.
“Take him to his car!”
Tumblr media
As soon as he did so all hell broke loose and everyone from both parties pulled out a weapon.
“Drop it!”
It wasn’t until One of the sector seven agents pointed a gun at the back of Will’s head that you disable to another agent and took his gun and pointed it directly and held it directly at the one pointing the gun at your ex.
“I really wouldn’t.” You warned.
You were no soldier, but Will have taught you plenty before you broke up. So did your brother, before he passed away. He actually served alongside Will but died in combat. Biking. That’s part of why you were so hurt when Will re-enlisted. When he got promoted to Captain and chose the army over you. You were terrified of losing him the way you lost your brother. The break up wasn’t that messy but you both said things you didn’t mean. In attempts to mask your own pain and hurt one another.
You know. Hurt people, hurt people.
It’s still came to no surprise that you put a bullet in someone to protect him. Together or not you’d never let anything happen to him.
“I'm ordering you under S-Seven executive jurisdiction-“ Simmons ranted.
“S-Seven don't exist.” You interjected, earning a quick appreciative glance from Will.
“Right. And we don’t take orders from people that don’t exist.”
“I’m gonna count to 5. Okay-“ Simmons attempted to threat yet again.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Well, I’m gonna count to three.” Will deadpanned.
You knew that look. God did you know that look and it was so wrong that you were so turned on.
Finally the Secretary of defense interfered telling Simmons to do what was being asked of him. Everyone relaxed slight, weapons lowering.
“Y/n,”
“Captain.”
The Captain and couldn’t help but watch you how do you get up and prepare to go.
“So that’s her huh?” Epps commented as Will watched you run off with Sam.
“Yeah..” Will answered, mind racing.
While he knew he’d eventually see you again, he didn’t think it would be like this. You looked breath taking.
“Damn. Shorty had your back that entire time.”
“Gear up,”
“What I’m just saying I thought she was gonna put a cap in his.” Epps shouted after his Captain receiving no response.
Will knew you had his back, you always would, the same way he would always have yours. He thought of you often, the break up between two inescapable, never feeling like he did the right thing. You were always not too far from the front of his mind. Him wondering how you were doing. If you were happy. If you found somebody else. There was no doubt he regretted what had transpired between the two of you. It was his fault. He knew that. You knew that. He had ample opportunity to fight for you and he didn’t. When he was promoted Captain he felt he had to choose between you and the army. He didn’t choose you the way he should’ve. In reality he could’ve had both. However hr so caught up proven himself to his deadbeat dad that he possibly let the best thing that ever happened to him go.
Not to mention trying to atone for your brothers death. It wasn’t his fault, but he still couldn’t shake it. So without talking to you he reenlisted. Needless to say where that got him.
Now hear the both of you were in the middle of an alien war. Yeah. This is the last place he thought he’d see you.
You were numb. The battle on the highway enough to freak you out. For mommy, just a moment you thought this might be a dream but no. This is all very real. One minute you guys were just entering the city trying to lay low, next thing you know - BOOM! The explosion knocked all of you over, injuring some, killing a few. Bumblebee’s legs were partially blown off.
Getting up off the pavement you waited for the ringing in your ear to subside as you stood up, trying to study yourself when you felt a pair of arms hold you still.
You knew it was Will just by the way he touched you, you blinked hard trying not to go down memory lane.
“Are you okay?” The concern in his voice was enough to make your heart skip a bear.
“Yeah,” you nodded slowly. “Yeah I’m fine.”
Slowly you removed yourself from his grip and went to check on Sam and Mikaela. Ratchet on the other hand -
“Hmm. His pheromone levels are-“ you quickly turned on him and glared.
“Ratchet I’ll turn you into a can opener if you don’t shut the hell up.”
The robot nearly held his hands up in the surrendering position as he followed you. Will had arranged an aircraft to pick up Sam and the cube while everyone else defended themselves against the deceptive cons in a hurry to get the cube far far away before Megatron arrived. Sam was in a panic and so Michaela, you could see Will’s short fuse getting ready to exploded. It was then you decided to be an escort.
“Sam, you can’t do this alone.” Michaela fussed.
“He won’t be alone.” You commented, causing all parties involved to look at you.
“I’m going with you.” You declared.
“No.” Will didn’t even hesitated as he stepped closer to you.
“Captain Lennox-“
“No!” You grabbed him by the front of his beer and pushed him back.
“Do you see what going on out there?!” You continued to hold on to him and you yelled at him over there chose. “We’re at a war. One we are extremely ill prepared for. So get your shit together! Sam is my responsibility. I have to get this kid to safety.”
This time your hands slid up the side of his face forcing him to look at you.
“Y/n..” he breathed out leaning down toward you, and for the first time during all this madness you could visibly see he was afraid.
“I’ll be back, Will.” You assured him, briefly resting your forehead against his.
Gathering himself he pulled away, looking toward Sam then back at you.
“Go. Go!”
And then we were running.. With nothing but an M16 strapped to your back and the pistol in your hand, you ran faster than you ever have before.
The four of you were under attack once more, you and Sam doing what you had to, to avoid getting snatched up as a fight Ironhide and Ratchet defended you. Unfortunately you were too close to one of the cars that went up in flames and you were thrown into another car from the blast.
“Y/n!” You could feel the blood on your forehead as you slowly pushed yourself up. As you tried to stand you immediately stopped feeling the pain in your thigh. Looking down could see the damage that had been done. The blood surrounding the afflicted area.
“Wha- what, what do i do?!” Sam asked frantically once he took notice of your injury.
“You gotta keep going Sam. I’ll be fine.”
He stood fo his feet, unsure of what to do. When Ironhide told him the same thing.
“Go!” You screamed once more.
Sam left and continued to run without you as you, as quickly as possible, as you tore your focus away from him to pull the shard of glass in your leg out. Ripping a piece of your shirt off you tightly tied it around your thigh in order to stop the bleeding. There was no point in going forward now but the return back to everyone else and help them fight.
You just had to avoid getting killed in the process.
You seen a car steering wheel, a Mountain Dew vending machine and and Xbox all turn into one of those freaky ass robots right before your eyes. All of which you helped others fight off. It was so surreal. In fact, if it wasn’t for the constant ringing in your ear from all the explosions you definitely think you were dreaming. You almost made it back to Lennox and his men when another Decepticon stood between between you and your destinations. They were definitely taking a beating. You saw Epps shooting a green laser indicating the robot that doubled as a helicopter wasn’t a friendly and decided to do what you could to keep the Decepticon from getting any closer to them and hurting any more civilians. In an attempt to draw it away from everyone else, you begin to fire your weapon giving it everything you had.
Unfortunately, the side effective taking its attention off the others meant putting the attention on you.
You ran trying to duck and dodge a bullets now directed your way.
Tumblr media
But Will. Will’s heart dropped. Seeing you there defending yourself alone. His pause was brief, the air forces plan already in motion, before he started the motorcycle and was speeding in your direction.
“William!” You screamed for him fearfully as he drove straight toward the robot.
The only thing you could hear was your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You almost couldn’t breathe, you don’t remember the last time you ever felt so scared in your life. But it wasn’t your life you feared for was it?
He rushed forward and slid under the robot continuing to firing the launcher. All you could do was watch as he drove toward you. Toward the danger your mind wondering if he did that on a regular basis. Was this the life of a soldier? What he went through day after day when he was deployed?
Standing up he only spared the parts of the dismembered robot a glance before shouting and turning looking for you. In a matter of seconds he was standing directly in front of you and pulling you into his arms.
Relief.
There was nothing like physically being about to touch someone, hold someone to really know they were okay.
“So…” you began, suddenly feeling nervous. “...That was hot-“
Before you were able to get another word in, he captured your lips with his kissing you roughly and bringing you closer, hands on the small of your back. You couldn’t help it kiss him back just as fiercely put in every emotion you had into that kiss.
Every ounce of passion he had in body, put into this kiss, your lips just as soft, kiss just as pure as he remembered. When you kissed, he knew he was a goner and could never let you go again.
It has been two years since the last time you guys have been this close. This intimate. Reconnected. The feeling it gave you, the indescribable feeling, was one neither one of you ever wanted to forgo again. Pulling back slowly, you both had smiles on your faces, Will pulling you closer to plant a kiss on your forehead.
“Excuse me,” Epps interrupted.
The both of you turning your attention on him.
“As cute as this shit is it’s highly inappropriate in the middle of the battle. I’m just saying we are trying to stay alive and shit.”
———————————————
Oh my fu- I don’t even know what this isssss
Couldn’t tell you what my original ideas was or nothing. I believed this was going to short-
I enjoyed writing it though! Shoutout again to @merakiaes for being on this lennox train with me lol
I’m just....I’m just gonna leave this mess here.
Bye
- Mo
—————————-
Tags: @merakiaes @lilythemadqueen
428 notes · View notes
alphinias · 2 years
Note
While everyone else was fast asleep by the fire, Kie felt JJ tossing and turning next to her. - Jiara
While everyone else was fast asleep by the fire, Kie felt JJ tossing and turning next to her.
It was in the same way he always thought he was being subtle. The rustle of his clothes against the sand. A click of metal when he checked that his knife was still beside his makeshift shirt pillow. The jerkiness of his breathing, which she had been more attuned to than ever over the past few days.
It wasn’t surprising, that they were both the last ones awake, even with the soothing crackle of the dying flames and the blanket of stars twinkling for miles above them, like little crystals trapped in the distance. He’d always been the insomniac of the group with no substances to knock him out, and even when he did manage to fall asleep, he was jolting awake at the tiniest creak of a floorboard. Even back when she was twelve, excitedly peeping out of the separate bedroom Big John had banished her to at her first pogue sleepover, JJ’s eyes had been the ones peering back at her out of the dark.
And as for Kiara, well... the concept of sleep was daunting when nearly every time she closed her eyes, she was met with the long, dark halls of a chase through a boat or the glint of a machete in the sun. 
She pulled herself upright. Her back ached from lying on the ground, despite the layers of grass she’d been collecting over the past few days in an attempt to soften it. There was also lining of sand that stuck to her skin like a new layer, impossible to get rid of but not quite as foreign to her as sleeping with no mattress. 
The path to the ocean was familiar. She carefully avoided the dunes, having already warned JJ off of them on day one, and was careful not to stray so far that she couldn’t see the campsite. 
The roar of the ocean was soothing to her veins. The only constant remaining in her life besides her boys, and the next best thing to actual sleep, she figured. 
Kiara plopped down into the sand and waited. 
Hardly any time at all had passed before there was a rustling behind her. A quick peek over her shoulder revealed JJ, silhouetted by the light of the mood, hands tucked in his pockets. His chin was tilted skywards, making a show of not looking at her.
She leaned back on her palms. “Creep much?”
JJ’s fingers tugged at his hair. Hovered there for a moment, like he was trying to adjust the phantom cap he’d lost miles offshore.
“You good?” he asked.
“Be better if I had a J.” Kiara blinked back the exhaustion behind her eyes, smiling a little. “Or a few.”
“Amen. I’d totally destroy a J right now.” 
JJ lingered a few feet away, questioning, and she patted the sand next to her. He landed there with all the lithe grace of a big cat, the same way he always moved effortlessly up and down on his surfboard. He’d been swearing he was going to make his own by hand before they got off this island, and a large part of Kiara believed him.
“Or some onion rings,” she said, thinking wistfully of all the times she’d smuggled trays out the back of the Wreck for herself and the boys. “I’d kill for some onion rings.”
“Uh, you don’t sound real appreciative of that coconut I cracked for you earlier.”
Kiara managed a laugh. “It was a good coconut.”
They trailed off, sucking in the silence. One of the best and most surprising facts about JJ was that he knew how to be quiet when it counted.
She scooted closer to him, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. He stilled, barely detectable, but he was warm, and something about the inky darkness was freeing. A promise of not having to carry this moment over straight into the next morning just yet.
30 notes · View notes
fanmoose12 · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
As all horrible things do, it starts out with a peaceful moment.
The day, when it begins, is humid and hot, the promise of storm is prominent in the air.
But for now, it's just a promise, and Levi allows himself not to worry. The large tree hides him in its shadow, the grass providing a soft pillow for his body, and Hange is pressed against him, her fingers writing the secrets of universe on his skin.
She murmurs something to him, too soft for Levi to catch. He means to ask her to repeat it, but then his eyes meet hers, and the honey brown of her irises entrances him so much that everything else flies out of his head. He thinks of making love to her right there and then, with the sun as their witness. That douche Apollo would certainly like it...
His lewd plans must have reflected on his face, because Hange shakes her head and tuts, "Levi, Levi... You don't listen to me. What if I was going to say something important?"
"Everything you say is important."
It slips out of his lips unprompted, unexpected. Levi blames in on the sun. Apollo, that deceiving bastard, must have loosen his tongue.
Hange widens her eyes and her mouth falls open in an expression of pure wonder as though Levi has done something incredible.
"Oh, Levi," she whispers, her voice softer than the wind.
She props herself on her elbows to raise up and get closer to him. There is a smile on her face, one that tells him that Hange is going to kiss him. One that promises that the kiss is going to be full of passion, sweetness and love.
Hange hovers just above him, only inches separating their lips. Levi waits for her to shorten that distance, and just before Hange does...
Someone behind them clears their throat. Levi and Hange abruptly turn around, staring at their intruder. Due to the scorching sun and the promise of that kiss that haven't been fulfilled, it takes Levi a long moment to recognise who has disturbed them.
As soon as he does, he hurries to hide Hange behind his back, protecting her with his body.
The god's messenger - Hermes - laughs and takes a step forward. Levi tenses, pushing Hange back just a little further. He doesn't trust gods, never did. And he has a damn good reason for that.
The messenger stays silent for a lengthy moment, and Levi starts to hope - maybe, it's just a mistake. Maybe, he'll leave them alone. The hope grows and grows until-
Until Hange opens her mouth.
"Did Apollo get jealous of our quiet afternoon? Does he wish to join?"
The joke is ill-timed, ill-advised and all around terrible. Levi should have scolded Hange. Instead he snorts alongside her.
Hermes doesn't bat an eye. He doesn't even glance at Hange, as though Levi is the only one here. Perhaps he should feel relieved that Hange is supposedly sparred from god's anger for one deed or another. However, he feels a slight irritation at the apparent disregard for her person.
"Levi," the god speaks. "You have been summoned to the Mount Olympus. Come with me and I'll take you there."
The words spoken surprise him, but Levi doesn't let it show on his face.
"No," he says resolutely. "I have no business with gods."
"You have now."
Something in Levi snaps at the indifferent tone of the messenger's voice. He means to raise up, to come closer to him, but Hange holds him back, her touch both reassuring and calming.
"What do you want from Levi?" she asks, and Hermes shoots her nothing more than a quick, uninterested glance.
"It doesn't concern you."
Levi's anger boils to a frightening point. God or no god, Levi won't let anyone treat Hange like that.
"Whatever concerns me, concerns Hange too. So answer her question, or leave and don't come back."
"And why did I even bother..." Hermes mutters.
He raises his hand, snaps his finger and- and Levi starts falling.
When he opens his eyes, the peaceful afternoon, the scorching sun, Hange's warm body - it's all gone. What he has now is a cold, marble floor and dozen pairs of eyes staring down at him from giant, grand thrones.
Instinctively, he reaches out for Hange only to find that both of his hands are bound.
"Hange-" everything else dies on his tongue, when he sees Hange with two men restraining her. Levi furiously fights against his bounds, desperate to get to her, to make sure she is safe and unharmed.
Hange meets his eyes and shakes her head. Calm down, I'm fine, her gaze tells him, don't do anything stupid.
Levi wants to do something stupid so badly, he wants to free himself and hurt those who dared to lay hands on his Hange. He wants to unleash his anger and destroy everything and everyone here, leaving nothing behind.
But it's not a shady tavern, Levi reminds himself. It's a Pantheon, and one should never anger gods. It was the first lesson Levi's childhood taught him.
That lesson is the one he would never forget, so more for Hange's sake than his own, he forces himself to forget about his anger. He turns to look straight ahead and nearly chokes as he comes face to face with him.
He saw that man only twice in his life, back when he was no more than a skinny brat. Levi thought him a mere human back then, not an almighty god, the king of kings.
He didn't change since since then - the same lushious brown hair, the same piercing green eyes, the same infuriating smirk.
All this time Levi thought that the man who killed his mother was a wealthy merchant or an influential politician. A powerful, yet simple mortal. Turns out, his mother's murderer is Zeus himself.
But reverence before god's might and fear of their punishment doesn't ease Levi's anger. The desire to hurt the man in front of him only grows.
"Kneel," someone behind him urges, but Levi only raises his chin in defiance. He would rather visit the Underworld and stay there than kneel before that scum.
"Kneel," they demand again. Levi stays unmoving. He stares at his so called father with all fury in the world. If Zeus is really his his father, if he is really a son of the king of gods himself, then if he glares hard enough, maybe, the bastard will go up in flames. Maybe, the lightining will strike him or-
The pained grunt interrupts Levi. He looks to his left to see Hange- his Hange lying on a floor with her face pressed to cold marble and a man standing above her, his foot on her back. Levi wants to rage, wants to kick and scream and tear the man who dared to touch her to pieces.
But it will do him no good. It will do Hange no good, so he surrenders.
He gets down on one knee and bows his head - not in reverence, but to hide his burning eyes.
His father laughs. "Welcome to my palace, son. How do you like it?"
I don't, Levi wants to say, but they have Hange. And her wellbeing is more important than his petty anger.
"It's marvelous, all songs don't do it justice," Hange's voice rings. Levi turns to her with wide eyes, even now, bound and overpowered, she tries to protect him. "Is there a reason you were gracious enough to invite us here, my lord?"
"A fierce one," his father chuckles approvingly. He raises his hand, waves it and Hange starts to scream. "But not very smart. Mortals have no right to speak up in this place."
Levi's vision clouds with specks of violent red. His hands are shaking with anger and rage, he desperately wants to-
Hange catches his eye and subtly shakes her head. I'll be fine, my love, she wordlessly tells him, hush and don't fret.
Levi tries his best to do as Hange says. He raises his head and meets his father's eyes.
"Why did you call me up here?" keeping his voice straight and calm takes a considerate effort, but Levi does his best. For Hange.
"My son," the allfather's voice carries around the large chamber. "I have a job for you. The Titans have risen up in power. They seek to have my place, to take what it's rightfully mine. I need you to destroy them for me."
Destroy... Titans? Even the notion of it was ridiculous. Do gods have no one else that'd be more suited for this job?
"I'm not strong enough for this mission," he says. "Find someone more powerful than me."
"You're my son," Zeus' eyes flash with anger. "There is no one more powerful and skillful than you. You will do this for me, Levi. Or..."
His father shifts his gaze to Hange, a smirk pulling on his lips. "Or I'll do to your lover the same thing I did to your mother. And the child that grows inside her will suffer an even more horrible fate."
A child? Levi's heart falls. He slowly turns to Hange, but she seems just as bewildered by this. She looks down to her stomach, then back up at Levi. Her eyes fill with understanding, and then - they start to fill with rebelious fire. Hange is not afraid, but that feeling has always been unknown to her.
Levi, on the other hand, is afraid. He is terrified for Hange, for their child, but he doesn't let fear get to his head.
If his father insists on him fulfilling this mission, Levi will submit. On his own conditions.
"I see you've already saw the reason," Zeus smiles. "My son, with time you'll realize what an honor I've bestowed upon you. You will be sung about in songs, you will be remembered and praised for the rest of your life."
Levi wants to scoff, as if he desires to have any of it. His only wish is to have a peaceful life with his Hange and their child, without any gods or deities interfering.
"And if you're so worried about succeeding, I'll give you the means to defeat every foe. You'll receive my lightining bolts..."
"No," Levi says. "You will give them to Hange."
His father laughs again. "Until you defeat my enemies, son, your lover stays with me."
A shudder runs through Levi at the thought of leaving Hange behind with him. The memories of his mother's corpse flash through his mind,and straighten his resolve.
"Hange will come with me, or I won't go at all."
The lightening cackles in the air.
"Are you trying to bargain with me, boy? Don't anger me, or your lover..."
"Lift a finger in her direction, and you'll have to look for another child of yours. I may not be able defeat you, father," he spits the word like a curse. "And every other god that will want to stop me, but hurt Hange and I will certainly try. You need me to defeat Titans for you, and I need Hange with me."
Somewhere behind Levi, the lightening strikes, the thunderous ripples reverberating through the marble floor and walls. Levi doesn't flinch.
His father nods, as though he is impressed. "You clearly are my son. you're just as fiery. I wanted to keep your lover safe, but be it as you wish, the mortal will go with you. I should warn you, however, the journey won't be an easy one."
"Hange is strong. And without her, I'm ten times weaker."
Zeus waves his hand at the soldiers that hold Hange. They release her, and Levi instantly reaches out, firmly grasping her hand. Already, he feels that much calmer.
"You have nine moons to finish your mission, my son. If the child of that mortal is born and the nine Titans still don't meet their end, I'll take the child and kill your lover. I'll be watching your journey. And I hope you won't disappoint me."
Levi can barely nod, before the world around him changes again.
He's back in their little garden once more, and as soon as he catches his footing, he pulls Hange to him and holds her in his arms.
He inhales the sweet scent of hers, his whole body trembling. Apologies want to tumble from his mouth, but Hange interrupts his laments with a low laughter.
"So your father is Zeus himself? I should be more careful while making love to you from now on... What if I make you feel so good, you'd start blasting lightening from fingertips?"
It's just like Hange to find a joke in everything. Levi can't help but chuckle along with her.
"Maybe, it'll knock some sense into you..."
"You've knocked me up already, my love," Hange giggles, and Levi wants to kick her. He also wants to bury himself in her embrace and stay there for all eternity.
"That's all you've got to say?" he takes a step back to glance into her sparkling eyes. "What about my father? Aren't you surprised?"
"My love," Hange cups his cheek, leaving a ghost of a kiss on his lips. "Why must I be surprised? I always knew you were special."
***
It takes them a whole month to track the first Titan.
He is huge, bigger that Levi could ever imagine, but he’s also old and barely able to move when they find him.
Levi slices his neck and marvels at how easy it was. Hange runs up to him as soon as the Titan disappears and gives him a kiss that makes him weak in the knees.
She gives him a wide smile when they separate, and Levi smiles right back.
One Titan out of nine is defeated, and Hange didn’t even have to get involved. That gives them more than enough reason to celebrate, and they do it under the stars near the glistering lake.
Hange punctuates every kiss with a sweet praise and soft confession. When Levi is near his peak, she draws back and curves her lips in a tantalizing smirk.
“Careful now, my love,” she teases, while Levi can’t do nothing but huff and grunt at her. “Don’t kill me with your lightening…”
“I won’t if you do the job right,” he shoots back, pulling Hange down for another kiss.
She laughs as he nibbles at her jaw and lets Levi flip them around, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“If I die in your arms, Levi,” she whispers. “I’d shame the gods themselves with my happiness.”
***
Their next victim is harder to defeat. He’s not so big, but he seems younger. When Levi approaches, his blade already drawn, the creature grows mad with rage.
Levi gestures for Hange to stay back, and she does.
Up until the Titan launches his first attack.
Levi docks but not to evade the Titan’s massive arm. Hange starts throwing the lightning bolts they got from Zeus, aiming them with breathtaking precision. The creature roars, as one of the bolts hits him right in his eyes.
“Levi, go!” Hange shouts, and he doesn’t waste another second. He cuts the Titan’s legs and waits for him to fall. When he inevitably does, Levi is already there, right next to his nape. He slashes it without hesitation.
Hange lets out a joyous cry, launching herself on Levi. “We did it, again!” she happily laughs.
“I told you to stay back,” Levi scolds her, but Hange just keeps laughing.
“But, my love, you know me. I hate staying out of action.”
***
That night, when they make love in a small clearing in a dark forest, Hange doesn’t praise him.
Instead, she goes on and on, complimenting herself.
“You’re so lucky, Levi,” she husks as her hands roams his chest. “To have a lover as gifted as me. My aim is as precise as Artemis’, my wits are sharper than Athena’s swords, my beauty can rival Aphrodite’s…”
The gods always listen, and what Hange says will undoubtedly anger them all. But Levi is high on their victory, high on their love, so he doesn’t care about it now.
He throws his head back, when Hange moves her hands from his chest to his stomach and then even lower. He moans when Hange grabs him and whispers, “And your ego is as big as Ares’.”
The pleasure Hange was giving him disappears.
“I am as gifted as gods,” Hange straddles his hips and pins his hands above his head. She licks her lips, her eyes flashing, as she revels in his quiet whimper. “And my punishment can be just as severe…”
Levi is absolutely spent when Hange takes mercy on him. She curls around him, and watches his attempts to catch his breath with a wicked smile.
If this is the kind of punishment he’ll keep receiving, Levi is ready to defy gods every waking moment of his life.
***
"This one is different," Hange whispers in his ear as together they observe the Titan's movements. "The skin is..."
"Weird," Levi finishes for her.
Weird is not colorful enough to describe this Titan. Where the other looked vaguely human-like, this one does not. Its skin is too white and its body too long. The mouth doesn't look normal too.
"Be careful," Hange warns, when Levi pushes himself off the rock they've been leaning against.
"Don't intervene," he shoots back.
Hange grins and doesn't even give him a courtesy of promising to stay out of it. With her trusty bolts, she starts running towards the Titan, an excited cry tearing from her lips. Levi curses andhurries after her.
Together they defeat the Titan in mere minutes, despite its many abnormalities.
Later that evening, they go to the nearest town and buy grapes and bread. Hange demands to buy wine but Levi points to her stomach, and she stops arguing right after that.
Hange isn't showing yet, barely two and a half moons have passed since the child was apparently conceived, but she's been growing moodier with each day and she often complains about the ache in her back.
"That's your fault, Zeus' descendent," she huffs as she tries to get comfortable around him. "You tricked, seduced and dishonored me in the most terrible fashion."
Levi rolls his eyes and doesn't point out that it was Hange who bewitched and seduced him. And she never had any honor or shame to begin with. He just pulls her closer and pops a grape into her mouth. Hange smiles as she tastes the sweet fruit.
"Although I have to admit," she says after she swallows it. "I didn't imagine that Zeus is you father."
"Who did you expect it to be then?"
"Don't know," Hange shrugs. "Hades, maybe? Both of you have the same dark and wicked scowl."
His scowl can get too dark, but it's certainly not wicked... But for now, Levi wants to know something else.
"How did you guess I wasn't mortal?"
"Well," Hange flicks hair out of her face and opens her mouth, asking Levi for another grape. With a sigh, he complies. Hange gives him a grateful smile and continues. "Sometimes you pick up stuff that should be too heavy for you. And sometimes you move too fast for me to follow. But more importantly..."
"Yes?"
"You're too handsome to be a mere mortal. And when you make love to me, it feels absolutely divine..."
Hange laughs and Levi scoffs. He leans closer and kisses her laughter away.
"If there was a god of stupidity, Hange,” he whispers against her lips. “You'd be their child."
***
The fourth Titan they encounter is the strongest one yet.
It's different from all others, its fur covered body and long ears more beast-like than human.
"I don't like that one at all," Hange mutters and Levi silently agrees. Just looking at that Titan makes him wish that he had left Hange back home, where she and their child would be safe.
But Hange isn't at home, and Levi likes to think that she is safer here with him than with his father and the rest of his kind on Mount Olympus.
"Looks like a monkey," he mutters. "A really ugly one," he adds just to make Hange laugh.
"We can't all be beauties like you," she slings an arm over his shoulder and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Good luck, Levi."
Hange means to move away, but Levi doesn't let her. He catches her hand and brings her back to him, pulling her to his chest. Something is wrong with that Titan, something about him... makes his throat constrict with fear.
"Hange," he breathes all air out of his chest and fills it with her sweet scent. He doesn't ask her to stay back, knows it's pointless, but that horrible feeling inside, the fear and almost certainty that something will go wrong... it forces Levi to embrace Hange just a little bit tighter.
"I'll be alright, my love," Hange whispers. "We both will be."
Of course, they will – how could they not? Levi is a son of Zeus, and Hange is brighter and more brilliant than any other mortal or deity.
They will be alright, he keeps repeating it in his head as he starts running to the Titan.
Something is definitely wrong with that Titan, because when Levi approaches, the giant creature smiles. It smiles and then looks away, turning— turning to Hange.
Levi’s heart stops.
The Titan lowers his enormous, clawed hand, and before Levi can move, before Levi can find it in himself to breathe, the beast snatches Hange up in the air.
Levi doesn’t remember what happens next, doesn’t register his next moves. His vision fills up with red and his chest is heavy with rage.
He sees nothing but blood, blood, blood. He is covered in it when the Titan crushes down and Levi catches Hange up in his hands.
He falls to the ground with her, pulling her on top of him. It is only when he hears Hange’s heartbeat, his own finally starts up again.
He breathes in deeply – once, then twice, and when the trembling in his hands ceases, he lowers Hange down and methodically checks her, looking for wounds and injuries.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she keeps repeating, but she is not. There is a long and deep scratch on her leg and bruises all over her forearms and chest. Her stomach seems unharmed, but Levi still presses his ear to it and prays he hears something there.
“It’s still there,” Hange gently brushes his hair. “It’s still there, I can feel it. We’re alright, my love. All three of us.”
He leaves a tender kiss there and thanks his yet unborn child for being so strong. He then picks Hange up and carries her to the nearby stream. Hange protests and tries to kick him, but Levi just holds her tighter. After what has just happened, after what he’s just felt, he just wants for Hange to be close, needs to feel her warmth and know that she’s still with him.
He cleans her wounds by the stream and dresses every injury with a great deal care.
“Levi?” Hange asks, when later that day they sit by the fire. Levi is curled around Hange, and he kisses her shoulder to tell him he’s listening. “That Titan...”
Levi’s blood boils just at the mention of that beast. His mind flashes with memories of Hange in its arms, there up in the air. For the first time in his life, Levi thanks his unhuman instincts. If he came just a second later…
“I think he was sentient, Levi. Not like an animal, but almost like… almost like human.”
The tone of her voice, the almost defeated notes he can hear in it, Levi doesn’t like where this is going.
“What if they’re not mindless beasts like we’ve been told they are? What if they’re just like us?”
“Hange…” he says, a gentle precaution.
But Hange perseveres. “He didn’t attack you, but decided to go for me. He ignored you, even though you’ve posed a bigger threat, because he recognized that I was your weakness. Animals can’t be so smart. Only humans are.”
Levi sighs. He can’t bring himself to say it out loud yet, but he agrees with Hange. There is something more to the Titans that they’ve been told. There is something more to the Titans that his father has shared.
“The next Titan we meet…” Hange turns to look at him, her eyes pleading. “Can we observe them a bit more? Maybe…”
“Maybe,” Levi echoes. He presses his forehead against Hange’s and promises, “Next time we’ll do it your way.”
***
Hange’s belly grows in the time it takes them to find their next Titan. If situation had been any different, Levi would have been adamant about her staying back, but he promised her they’d get to the bottom of this together.
And he intends to keep that promise until…
Until they locate their target. And realize that they’re dealing with not one, but three Titans.
Images of Hange’s body flying around like a ragdoll still wake him up in the middle of the night with a hoarse scream on his lips, and it was just one Titan. Levi doesn’t want to know what will happen if they’ll fight three of them. He turns to Hange, intent on making her sit this one out, but then Hange points her finger, forcing him to follow its direction.
When he does, Levi sees the three Titans. Who are running in the opposite direction from them.
“Let’s catch up with them!” Hange urges.
Despite carrying a child for almost six moons, Hange gets on a horse surprisingly easy. She waits for Levi to get behind her before spurting the horse in pursuit.
It takes them a better part of an hour to get close to the Titans. When they do, Levi jumps from a horse and starts to approach the giants. He makes sure that his steps are slow and measured, as unthreatening as possible. But just as gets close enough, the Titans turn from defence to offence.
The one in the middle - the one that looks like he's covered in armor - steps forward and raises his arm.
"I don't want to hurt you!" Levi shouts, but this only spurs the creature on.
Before he can crush Levi with his might, Hange jumps right in front of the Titan, her arms spread wide.
"Please, stop!" she yells, frantically moving her arms up and down. "We just want to talk, we mean no harm!"
The Titans exchange looks between each other, before the one with blonde hair nods her head.
"We will listen," she says. "But you have to lay down your weapons first."
Hange grins, looking at Levi with a childish wonder. She grabs his blade and throws it out before approaching the three giants.
"So," she takes her time to study each of them, her grin growing wider and wider. She rubs her hands when she finishes, looking almost feral in her excitement. "I have a plan."
***
Hange's plan is ridiculous, risky and possibly not worth the effort. But Hange charms the Titans with her passionate words, and then turns to Levi with a smile that has charmed him all these years ago. She has all of them convinced in less than an hour.
"If you were humans before, you can be turned back again," Hange says like it's that easy.
"If there is a way to do it, we don't know how," the tallest and largest one replies.
"But if there is someone who knows..." the one with armor around his body begins uncertainly.
The one with a blonde hair sighs. "If there is someone who knows, it can only be her. Give me your map, I'll show you where to find her."
"Well," Hange meets Levi's eyes and winks, absolutely radiant in her briliance. "That's already a start."
***
That her turns out to be another Titan. Unlike the others of her kind, she walks on all fours and looks like an ugly, hairless dog. Her companion is even worse - with large jaw and disproportionate body, he simply looks awful.
"Try to be nice, Levi," Hange chides, when he shares his observation with her. "They're possible allies."
Levi doesn't completely understand what's the point of all of this, but he always trusts Hange, and this time is no exception. He follows her to meet these new Titans.
Surprisingly, they listen to Hange patiently, at least, the one resembling a dog does.
But when Hange finishes, she shakes her head, sadness and remorse reflecting in her giant eyes.
"The curse turned us into this. And we can be turned back only by the person who did this to us."
"And who is it?" Levi asks, although he feels like he already knows an answer.
"Zeus," another Titan replies. "You came to finish what he started, didn't you? I can smell his stench all over you."
"He ordered us to come," Hange agrees, her voice placating. "But we do not wish to follow through with his order. Perhaps, if there was another way..."
"With you on our side..." Titans stare at each other, seemingly holding a silent conversation. Whatever decision they come to, it is in Levi and Hange's favor. "Perhaps, we can truly find another way."
***
It takes them two more moons to formulate their plan.
As they go over details again and again, the sky above them grows heavier and darker, and Levi feels lightening in the air. It's not a storm, not yet, but it is worryingly close enough.
As the weather continues to worsen, Hange's stomach continues to grow. The baby's kicks grow so strong, even Levi can feel them now - he delights in it every time he does.
By the time they're finished with the plan, Hange is already too late in her term. Going without her is out of question, Levi doesn't want to leave her alone and he doesn't wish to do this without his better half. They all agree to wait until the baby is born.
On the day their child feels like it's ready to see the world, the storm starts in earnest. The wind flies around and the sky is completely black with only flashes of lightening illuminating it all.
Hange's screams mix with thunder, and Levi holds her hand throughout it all, trying to soothe her pain with gentle touches and kisses.
When the baby finally arrives, it takes his breath away.
She is absolutely beautiful because she is unmistakably theirs.
Levi smiles when he sees a patch of black hair, and his heart swells, when the baby opens her eyes and he sees the familiar honey brown.
Just as she opens her eyes, she starts screaming and kicking, and Levi thinks 'yes... this is definitely Hange's child.'
They don't have the time to pepper her sweet rosy cheeks with kisses, marvel at her beauty or get tired of her wailing.
The storm grows stronger, and Levi knows that he is waiting.
They put the child in a small crib Levi made just days ago and they tuck her in, stopping just for a second to stare at her in awe.
"Take care of her for us," Hange asks their allies. They all give her a nod and position their large bodies protectively around the crib. "Thank you," she smiles. "We promise to take care of you too."
As soon as these words leave her mouth, the ground below them disappears. Levi takes Hange's hand in his at the very last moment.
He keeps holding it as they return to a marble throne room.
The guards try to separate them just as they did the last time, but Levi doesn't let them. He glares at them defiently and holds Hange close to him.
"My son," his father begins with a false sweetness in his voice. "Your time is up, your child is born. Then why the Titans continue to live?"
"I thought you could help us with that, father. It is your curse that had created them after all. Lift it and their threat will cease to exist."
"It's not what we had agreed upon."
"But it's a much easier way."
Zeus' eyes flash with fury, the lightening dancers around his fingers. "Do you dare to defy me?"
Levi keeps his head raised high, as he stares up at his father. "I'm just offering a different sollution."
"You will pay for that."
"If I will, so will you. The Titans have gathered, there is a small number of them, but they're strong, maybe, strong enough," he glances up at the gods seated on their grand thrones, "than some of you. Do you wish to test if it is true?"
"Insolent boy," his father growls, but Levi knows his anger means nothing.
There are whispers all around him, hushed and concerned. Other gods don't wish to have another war, not if they're not sure that they can win it. And if Zeus doesn't submit, then he risks starting a war even grander that against Titans - a war among gods.
"I will lift the curse," he grits through his teeth.
"And you will leave us alone," Hange adds in a singing voice.
Zeus' glare is impressive, but Levi isn't afraid of it anymore. He knows it can't burn people.
"That's all we wanted to discuss," Levi fails to hide the smugness from his tone. "And now if you excuse us..."
"We have a daughter to return to," Hange finishes.
The gods sigh in relief when a demigod and his mortal disappear from their realm. History has taught them just how much destruction a grieving lover can bring. They thank Tyche for their luck.
***
When Hange and Levi return to their world, they find that the Titans are gone. Instead five humans are waiting for them, gathered around a crib with a wailing baby.
The storm is over and the sun is shining brigthly.
Hange kisses the back of his hand and murmurs, "We did it, my love."
Levi smiles and together, they come to hold their baby girl in their arms.
And like all joyous things, this one starts perfectly.
143 notes · View notes
warrioreowynofrohan · 3 years
Text
Today in Tolkien - March 25th
And here we are, at the last day of the Quest. (And the last consistent day of this blog-series. I may or may not make more posts later on, but I won’t be making a point of consistently covering each day, as many have no specific events.) It’s hard to know what to say here, because we all know the events so well that any summary can only seem bland, and there is little to add that has not already been said.
So I will note a few things I hadn’t noticed before. First, the change to a wind from the north is noted in three different places.
For the army of Gondor and Rohan: As morning came the wind began to stir again, but now it came from the North, and soon it freshened to a rising breeze.
For Frodo and Sam: The wind had fallen the day before as it shifted from the West, and now it came from the North and began to rise; and slowly the light of the unseen Sun filtered down into the shadows where the hobbits law.
And for Faramir and Eowyn in Minas Tirith: A wind that had sprung up in the night was now blowing keenly from the North, and it was rising.
These winds help to carry the Eagles of the Misty Mountains south fast enough for them to come to the Battle at the Black Gate, and then to rescue Frodo and Sam.
Second, the comparative briefness of the battle at the Black Gate - and the number of men of Rohan and Gondor who survive it, along with Pippin and Gimli and Legolas - is due to Sauron indulging in spite. He could easily have loosed his assault against them at dawn, or even during the night when they were camped near the Black Gate. But Sauron had a mind first to play these mice cruelly gefore he struck to kill; he uses up a substantial portion of the morning by sending the Mouth of Sauron to taunt them (with gratuitous use of contemptuous-thou) about Frodo’s supposed capture. Given the disparity in forces, if he hadn’t done so the army would likely have been destroyed before the Ring was, and even victory would have left both Gondor and Rohan kingless and heirless. As Gandalf says at Isengard, Often does hatred hurt itself!
Third, related to the above, everything is over fairly quickly - the Ring is destroyed before noon. Again returning to the battle at the Black Gate, there is just time fir the first assault from Mordor (including hill-trolls) to hit the front lines, for Pippin to kill a troll and save Beregond, and then he hears the cry of “The Eagles are coming!” And at that same moment Frodo puts on the Ring in Sammath Naur, and the Nazgul turn and fly for the mountain; and moments later the Ring is destroyed.
Finally, the fall of Sauron, from four perspectives. First, Sauron’s:
And far away, as Frodo put on the Ring and claimed it for his own, even in Sammath Naur the very heart of his realm, the Power in Barad-dûr was shaken, and the Tower trembled from its foundations to its proud and bitter crown. The Dark Lord was suddenly aware of him, and his Eye piercing all shadows looked across the plain to the door that he had made; and the magnitude of his own folly was revealed to him in a blinding flash, and all the devices of enemies were at last laid bare. Then his wrath blazed in a consuming flame, but his fear rose like a vast black smoke to choke him. For he knew his deadly peril and the thread upon which his doom now hung. From all his policies and webs of fear and treachery, from all his stratagems his mind shook free.
Second, Frodo and Sam:
A brief vision [Sam] had of swirling cloud, and in the midst of it towers and battlements, tall as hills, founded upon a mighty mountain-throne above immeasurable pits; great courts and dungeons, eyeless prisons sheer as cliffs, and gaping gates of steel and adamant: and then all passed. Towers fell and mountains slid; walls crumbled and melted, crashing down; vast spires of smoke and spouting steams went billowing up, up, until they toppled like an overwhelming wave, and its wild crest curled and came foaming down upon the land. [The imagery of the final destruction of Sauron recalling the diwnfall of Númenor feels very fitting to me.]
Third, the army of Gondor and Rohan. Gandalf calls them back from the tide of battle that has turned in their favour, and bids them stand and wait.
But Gandalf lifted up his arms and called once more with a clear voice.
“Stand, Men of the West! Stand and wait! This is the hour of doom.”
And even as he spoke the earth rocked beneath their feet. Then rising swiftly up, far above the Towers of the Black Gate, high above the mountains, a vast soaring darkness spring into the sky, flickering with fire. The earth groaned and quaked. The Towers of the Teeth swayed, tottered, and fell down; the mighty rampart crumbled; the Black Gate was hurled in ruin; and from far away, now dim, now growing, now mounting to the clouds, there came a drumming rumble, a roar, and long echoing roll of ruinous noise.
“The realm of Sauron is ended!” said Gandalf. “The Ring-bearer has fulfilled his Quest.”
And as the Captains gazed south to the Land of Mordor, it seemed to them that, black against the pall of cloud, there rose a huge shape of shadow, impenetrable, lightning-crowned, filling all the sky. Enormous it reared above the world, and stretched out towards them a vast threatening hand, terrible but impotent: for even as it leaned over them, a great wind took it, and it was all blown away, and passed; and then a hush fell.
And fourth, Faramir and Eowyn in Minas Tirith:
And it seemed to them as they stood upon the wall that the wind died, and the light failed, and the Sun was bleared, and all sounds in the City or in the lands about were hushed: neuther wind, nor voice, nor bird-call, nor rustle of leaf, nor their own breath could be heard; the very beating of their hearts was stilled. Time halted.
And as they stood so, their hands met and clasped, though they did not know it. And still they waited for they knew not what. Then presently it seemed to them that abive the rudges of the distant mountains another vast mountain of datkness rose, towering up like a wave that should engulf the world, and about it lightnings flickered; and then a tremor ran through the earth and they felt the walls of the City quiver. A sound like a sigh went up from all the lands about them; and their hearts beat suddenly again.
“It reminds me of Númenor,” said Faramir, and wondered to hear himself speak.
“Of Númenor?” said Eowyn.
“Yes,” said Faramir, “of the land of Westernesse that foundered, and of the great dark wave climbing over the green lands and above the hills, and coming on, darkness unescapable. I often dream of it.”
“Then you think that the Darkness is coming?” said Eowyn. “Darkness Unescapable?” And suddenly she drew close to him.
“No,” said Faramir, looking into her face. “It was but a picture in the mind. I do not know what is happening. The reason of my waking mind tells me that great evil has befallen and we stand at the end of days. But my heart says nay; and all my limbs are light, and a hope and joy are come to me that no reason can deny. Eowyn, Eowyn, White Lady of Rohan, in this hour I do not believe that any darkness will endure!” And he stooped and kissed her brow.
And so they stood on the walls of the City of Gondor, and a great wind rose and blew, and their hair, raven and golden, streamed out mingling in the air. And the Shadow departed, and the Sun was unveiled, and light leaped forth; and the waters of Anduin shone like silver, and in all the houses of the City men sang for the joy that welled up in their hearts from what source they could not tell.
248 notes · View notes
how-masterful · 3 years
Text
Remastered
Dhawan!Master x Reader
Chapter 4: The Pandorica Opens
Tumblr media
Summary: Roman Centurions. Pandora's Box. Together you and the Master find yourselves exploring the depths of the cavern below Stonehenge and what mysteries lay within. Legend speaks of a box, an ancient god trapped inside its walls. Why does the rest of the universe want it so badly? And what can the Master do when he finally finds out what’s waiting inside the Pandorica is not what it seems?...
Notes: Welcome back to Remastered! Its been a long time coming! I know I promised an update a while ago, but sometimes these things just don’t work out the way you want them to. If we had a dedicated Master show my job would be so much easier! I finally managed to beat my writers block and found an episode i’d like to masterfy, so i hope you all enjoy! 
(You know the drill by now. @plethora-of-imagines, my beloved hat and master lover, this one is for you. just like the other ones. and all the ones coming. because who else would they be for?)
All around the Master, ever so slowly, the world he’d found himself in was suddenly starting to make sense. Dangerous, deadly, foreboding sense. On any other day, the renegade Time Lord would see that as a good thing. But that evening, underneath the ancient ruins of Stonehenge, the Master knew the dark was not on his side.
The communicator had crashed out a mere few seconds ago, fizzing and hissing against his ear. He’d thrown the device to the floor with a frustrated yell, gritting his teeth as his fingers returned to rub at his beard in thought. The same hand ran over his cheek and through his tangled fringe that hung over his eye, fingers gripping at the hair as his feet scuffed and disrupted the old dust upon the floor. He was pacing back and forth. This was not good. The high pitched ringing was deafening, his fingers plugging his ears as he stared down as the communicator. Its corner was dented, dust flying into the small cracks that had crawled up the edge of the glass. The screen still flickers with your face and name, the giant red letters of ‘COMMUNICATION LINE DISRUPTED' beneath it not failing to make his stomach churn.
You were both in grave danger. But it seemed like his was getting even worse.
“Master, it's not real!”
You’d yelled down the communicator line. Behind your plea, the Master had heard the Tardis creaking. Her engines were metal upon metal, screeching and groaning as it hurtled through the Time Vortex.
“What the hell does that mean, it's not real? Where are you?”
“Listen to me! All of it, everything’s a lie! The Romans, they’re right here.”
The Master was getting impatient. But you sounded almost terrified. The Roman platoon was hurrying around him carrying weapons and ammunition throughout the Underhenge. Almost like clockwork. At least they’d forgiven your lie about your identities- Emperor Nero and Pharaoh Cleopatra had seemed like clever aliases at the time. The Master sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“What are you talking about, what's all that noise-”
“In the book!”
“You’d better not be breaking my Tardis!”
“Master just listen to me, please!”
You let out a sudden scream. The Tardis jolted forward, sending you slamming into the console. The cloister bells had begun to toll, sparks and shocks of electricity and flame spurting from the central console of the type 41 machine. 
All around the Master, the Roman soldiers had slumped forward. Knees locked into position, life drained from their eyes. Weapons, spears and swords clattered to the floor with ricochetting bangs. The Master blew onto the screen of the communicator, banishing the dust from its surface. Every attempt to reopen the communication line was met with an electronic buzz, denying him access. Preoccupied, with one finger plugged in his ear and his shoulder pushed up against the other, he failed to hear the marching footsteps of the platoon behind him. 
A unified electronic whirr permeated the room, with all of the soldiers' hands snapping open and small, cylindrical cannons pushing through the exposed middle of their palms. All around the Master, the soldiers were following their commands and drawing closer and closer.
“What was that bang?!”
The Master pulled the com from his ear, before pulling it back closer to his mouth. A Roman had turned to face him, sending him a quirked eyebrow. In return the Master sent a fake smile, before ducking behind the corner of the large box in the center of the room. It would be best if he wasn't seen during this conversation.
“Y/N, talk to me, can you hear me?”
The Master half whispered.
“The Romans are in this book! The Tardis took me back to my house, i don't know why-”
“Your house?”
“When I was a kid. Something else had been there, the grass had these weird scorch patterns and the readings on that thing you gave me were going off the scale. The book on my nightstand, Roman history, i’d studied it at school-”
“You’d said it was your favorite subject, yes.”
Part of you wanted to mull over the fact the Master had remembered your favorite subject, enjoying the fact the hardened criminal had taken the time and care to recall such a trivial fact about his ‘not’ companion. He often mused how preferred to call you his partner. You treasured its double meaning to no end. But you also knew that favouritism was what had led you to visit this Roman colony. You felt slightly responsible over the ensuing chaos.
“I knew I recognized them from somewhere- The Romans, in the book, they’re the exact ones that are with you right now.”
“That's impossible- they’re DRAWINGS, love!”
“I swear! Something has copied the book from my house!”
The Master smacked the side of the communicator, shaking even more dust free from the device. It was only after that he raised his head, suddenly aware of the silence surrounding him. The Romans, or whatever they were, had stood themselves in flank formation, lined up against the edges of the chamber. Blocking his only way out. Beyond the boundary the other soldiers stood side by side in perfect position, surrounding the Time Lord in the purple tweed jacket. Cornering him in front of the Pandorica. Finally, the ringing had dissolved into white noise. Now the Master could think. Almost.
Before he could even begin to spew out a threat, of which he had many planned and ready at the tip of his tongue, the room began to shake with a gargantuan rumble. Lit torches, hung on the walls in metal cages, rattled in their confinements as dust fell from the ceiling like snowfall. The Master's attention was yanked from the Romans, his head whipping behind him as the corner of the Pandorica slowly began to split along its seam. The rumble grew stronger as the stone walls shifted along their mechanisms, the green glow drowned by the emerging, blinding white light.
“Oh, good. You’re ready to come out now?”
Sarcasm and wit had recently become a favorite of the Master. His new body seemed to enjoy plastering on a smug grin and a growled one liner when facing certain doom. He was universally known as indestructible, as his previous faces had bragged. But it seemed this was rapidly misplaced in the current situation. 
“I promise you!”
You yelled in protest, slamming hard on a lever and frantically tapping on the interface as you argued.
“They’re the exact same! So is the box!”
The Master reared his head to look at the box he’d pressed his back against.
“What do you mean, the box?”
The legendary Pandorica loomed down at him, the intricate detailing carved into its side glowing with an ominous green light that burnt from within. History had spoken of it, the mystery that lay beneath stonehenge, but to earthly historians, in their ignorant and self aggrandizing ways, it was just that. A mystery. Humanity had chalked the box up to being a folk tale, to ignore the mortifying idea of the supposedly supernatural being… natural: That aliens were anything beyond little green men in flying saucers, and human science simply couldn't, or more likely refused, to explain what had fallen from the stars.
“The Pandorica, I'd said it was like Pandora's box, right?”
You’d clapped with delight, unable to hide your excitement when the Tardis had materialised atop that hill hours before. You’d mentioned how similar the structure seemed to you, even down to the name: Pandora's box…  
Your favourite book as a child. He could remember you mentioning it.
The Master did not like where this was going.
“Well?” he asked hesitantly, possibly for the first time in his life.
“It's here, on the cover of the book, my copy of the book, it's the same box.”
The Time Lord could see something peeking through the bright white, the silhouette of something existing within the box. He’d try again with the communicator in a moment, he supposed, slipping it into his endlessly deep inside pocket. He lent forward, peering into the glow, ever curious. Was this the so-called trickster, the universe destroying monster that had dwelled inside that box for millennia? The possibility of an answer was suddenly snatched away, however, when two strong arms punched through the gap between his torso and his arms, sliding under his shoulders and yanking him towards his feet. 
The Master let out a shocked sound not unlike a bark, gritting his teeth as the soldiers clutched the man tight between them. His hair flipped madly as he turned to look at his wardens- the familiar, glassy look in their eyes turning the cogs in his brain. He tugged on their grasp, snarling as they dragged him through the dark and dusty cavern. His fingers scrambled to grab onto their own, to try and pry them from his form. Until he saw their fingers were no longer there. Replaced with small blasters in place of their palms. Their living plastic palms.
A sight all too familiar for the Master.
“How can they be the same, where even are you?”
The Master pinched the bridge of his nose once more, giving a disgruntled huff as his head fell back against the side of the Pandorica. Thoughts and possibilities were scrambling around inside his brains, like matadors trying to tame the most frightful of bulls in the ring.
“Master, these are my memories. Why did they go to my house, whatever it is?”
“Most likely, god, mimicry? They needed something that would peak our interest, make us come here-”
The Tardis jolted and screeched once more, her engines whining like a startled parakeet. Sparks and rumbles rocked the floor. You lost your footing, falling to your knees while clutching tight to the edge of the console. The Master pushed himself from the side of the box with a growl.
“What the hell are you doing to my Tardis, Y/n?”
“I don't know!”
You protested, heaving yourself up against the console. You continued to move along the screens, following the rhythm the Master had taught you. It was almost like a dance, especially the way his hands had wandered to your hips while he introduced you to the console.
“Its like something else is controlling it, the controls aren't responding-”
Another bang of sparks. The Master rolled his eyes.
“All those flying lessons I gave you- try and land her, wherever you are. The Tardis has protocols in place to keep you safe. You have to get out of there.”
“I’m trying!”
“The Nestene consciousness, I'd like to say it's pleasant to see you again.”
The Master grunted, trying to yank his shoulder free and almost losing his footing against his own force.
“Romans, a step up from shop dummies and plastic flowers, I'm impressed.”
He truly couldn't tell if his teasing was to intimidate or calm his own racing heartbeats. The Romans whirred and stomped, oblivious to his protests. Also oblivious to his remarks.
“Listen, I'm ordering you to let me go, there's bigger things for me to deal with here-”
Still no reply. The Master grit his teeth, yanking himself backwards in a feeble attempt at escape. He tried to thrash, to worm his way out of their grasp. But it was fruitless. The Autons were just as obnoxiously durable as the first time he’d met them, all those years ago.
“I COMMAND YOU TO LET ME GO!”
Further screams pierced through the communicator line, the timelord wincing as he once more pulled the device from his ear. You sounded terrified, the Tardis spiralling further out of control. 
“Y/n? Love, talk to me!”
“Master, I can't control her! Whatever's out there with you, it has to be connected. The same box, the same Romans, the same night, that CAN'T be a coincidence! Master, everything out there with you, It's a trap. It has to be. They wanted us to come here, Please just trust me, you have to get out of there-”
Crash. Hiss. Bang. The Tardis was screaming as it hurtled through the Vortex. The Master was beginning to worry. This time he wasn't going to deny it.
“Y/N! SHUT HER DOWN!”
“MASTER, I CAN'T! PLEASE!”
The world round the Master began to ring with a high pitched shriek. A piercing ring that echoed throughout the underhenge. The timelord winced, scrunching up his face and baring his teeth as he shrunk away from the din. Beside his ear he could hear your screams, the Tardis hurtling towards the unknown. Until suddenly, zap. Crackle. Nothing.
“Y/n, can you hear me!?”
The communicator line went dead.
The Master was growing more tense by the second. And even angrier still.
“I order you to obey! Why do you want me, why do you want my Y/n’s memories-”
The Roman soldier to his left gave a grim admittance, staring forwards at the growing light shining from within the Pandorica. It was almost hypnotic to the lumps of plastic surrounding him, something he’d consider himself a seasoned expert of. But this was different. This still stunk of betrayal and subterfuge. And also a slight loss of pride.
“The Pandorica is ready.”
The Master should have been excited. Ready to meet this mythical creature, a ghost in time, a legend. But now he felt slightly sick. He leered up at the soldier, antagonizing the guard.
“Ready for what, eh? What other big bads have you around their pinkie this time?”
The plethora of Romans did not speak. They simply continued to stare.
“I’m going to tell you again, let me go. You took your orders from me, once- you should know who I am! I am the Master!”
“Correct. Subject has self identified.”
The Master's face practically drained of all color. He daren't move his head to look, knowing exactly what scum of the universe was waiting behind him. The sound of the Daleks still sent a quiver of tangible fear down his spine. It had been years since the time war, centuries since the destruction of Skaro. Of Gallifrey. But the Daleks had not only destroyed his people, they had executed him personally. And in the twisted sense of poetry, were the reason he was brought back from the dead. A soldier to fight in the universal war- the only time he decided to be like the Doctor, running away to the end of the universe to escape the carnage that gave the blood red skies and grass of home a brand new meaning. 
He wouldn't say he feared them. But a dead Dalek was much more preferable than a living one.
Just like his old face had said. Stupid tin boxes.
“The subject has identified himself. Scan complete. You are the Master.”
“Well, you lot look different. Fancied an upgrade?”
He watched the Daleks, three in a crow, creep towards his line of vision. They were bulky things now, taller than before, each with a garishly bright color scheme that he almost wanted to shield his eyes from. An ugly design for an ugly creature.
“Or is that a poor turn of phrase?”
“YOUR LIMITS, CAPACITIES AND WEAKNESSES HAVE BEEN EXTRAPOLATED. YOU HAVE BEEN CONFIRMED”
Oh great. More Cybermen. If you were here, you’d tease him relentlessly for the reunion. You had earlier, suggesting he take the Cyber parts home and build his own. With a flash of white and a digital blue haze, the Cyber leader phased into vision, followed by two further Cybermen. All carrying large black weapons, much like what he’d found earlier.
“Oh, I was waiting for you to show up. Just can't stay away from me, can you?”
“Your arrogance is continued!”
Sontarans. Fabulous. In another flash, the squadron of Sontarans had appeared in the Underhenge, proudly brandishing their blasters. Before the Master could even calculate a response, the whole room seemed to glow in fire. The Pandorica was still slowly creaking open, the beam of light shining brighter and brighter. The Master, who stood right in its glow, had to shrink away and squint from its brightness.
Teleportation fields, transfer rays, dimensionally transcendental movement corridors, it seemed the world and his wife were cramming themselves into the cavern below the rocks. The Master, now adapting to the light, was met with an endless sea of familiar faces. 
Draconians, Ogrons, Juddoon, Kasaavin, Axonites, Cheetah Warriors, Sea Devils, and even their silurian cousins. Even some faces he’d never seen before littered the crowd, some other foes he’d briefly met but never spared a thought to. Sycorax, Hoix, Zygons, members of the Trickster Brigade, Clockwork Droids- and tall, slender men in black suits with a name he couldn't quite remember. He even struggled to remember they were there, looming in the background behind the busying crowd.
The great monsters of the universe had gathered at the Pandorica. 
“The Pandorica is ready!”
The Sontaran leader cried. Hesitantly, the Master dared to ask.
“Ready for what?”
The white Dalek, the new supreme, slowly moved closer.
“Ready. For. you.”
 The sides of the Pandorica finally slid into position, the blinding shroud of light dissipating. Finally, the Master could see what was before him in the darkness of the cavern. The box had split open to reveal a mechanised chair, almost like a throne. Callous and black, the metal chair was embedded deep into the heart of the Pandorica. Its exterior was fitted with several restraints, the square shaped shackles glowing the same green as the exterior patterns. Two ankles, two wrists, and over the shoulders- any being within would be unable to break free. Or even attempt to escape.
Slowly, the puzzle, not unlike the box in the fairy tale of Pandora, was beginning to slot together. The Master turned to look at the aliens surrounding him- co conspirators, enemies, allies. All had stood to the sides of the room, leaving a walkway between himself and the Pandorica. They stood, watching intently, as the realisation began to appear upon the renegade Time Lords face.
The path was clear. The restraints on the chair had retracted outwards, unlocking themselves. The Pandorica was empty.
But the Master knew. 
Not for long.
“Wait, you can't-”
But they already had. The Nestenes began to walk forwards, dragging the Master along with them by his armpits. The timelord kicked and fought their grasp, his grey shoes kicking up dust as he scrambled to find resistance in his footing. The surrounding monsters watched on as the Master fought for his freedom, desperately trying to pull away from the plastic men. He shouted, grunted, bared his teeth, but no amount of tugging and shouting could break the Master free. The Silurians tilted their heads, hissing. The Draconians stood with poised disapproval. The Daleks and Cybermen stood proudly at the front of the line, the Judoon watching silently with the authority of the shadow proclamation. All those creatures, lit by the roaring fire of the flickering torches on the wall.
The Roman imposters dragged the Master to the empty chair, their strength unmatched as they heaved the Time Lord into the waiting seat. He let out a furious yell as the restraints snapped shut around him, his body yanked backwards into the chair. First his wrists, then his ankles, then his shoulders. The entrapments of the Pandorica had shackled him down to his seat. A last set of restraints emerged from within the structure itself, entangling themselves around the Master's waist and stomach, pressing tight against his torso and locking him firmly into the chair. A single light shone from above, acting as a spotlight over the Master’s head. All eyes could see the Time Lord struggle and fight. All eyes knew it was useless. Exactly how they’d designed it to be.
“No, you can't do this to me!”
The Master was visibly rippling with rage.
“All those times I've helped you all!”
“YOUR ASSISTANCE HAS BEEN A SCOURGE ON THE CYBER RACE.”
The Cyberman with black handles spoke, as monotone and electronic as ever. The Master widened his eyes.
“No-”
“Your presence within the universe has caused vital damage to Dalek strategy.”
“All our plans, every time you step in, have failed to reach fruition! The glory of the Sontaran empire is threatened by your hand!”
The Master turned to look at every monster surrounding the box. The pathway had closed, the races and creatures surging forwards, cornering him even more within the machine. Their faces, if they had one, were full of hatred and disdain. Even the robots among the crowd were seemingly glaring. And those without faces watched on with agreement. The Master glared between them, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession.
“So, what? You blame me for everything? Want to lock me in a box because you blame me for all your problems!?”
“Incorrect.”
The Daleks' voice was scratchy and mutilated. Much like the creature inside the casing.
“The Pandorica was constructed to provide safety for the Alliance. You have aligned yourself with the Doctor.”
The Master paused for a moment, staring down at the supreme Dalek. How it stood there, with all its pride and might, and accused him of such a thing. He couldn't help but laugh. And so he did. The Master barked out a laugh, teeth bared and head falling back as he sat shackled to the Pandorica.
“Me? With her? Who told you that?”
“CYBER DATA HAS CONFIRMED. YOUR PREVIOUS INCARNATION ASSISTED THE DOCTOR IN CYBER DESTRUCTION.”
“Missy? Really? A five foot four mistress of evil scared you so much you had to put me in a box?”
“Your identity as the Mistress has been confirmed to stand in allegiance with the Doctor. It's a well known fact you chose to stand alongside them. Who knows what chaos you could harbour with your… track record of derailment.”
The Draconian leader stood proud among his council. The Master sent him a scowl, his laughter dying out.
“You think I'm the Doctor's little helper? Her weapon against you all, the crazy old Master, happy to do her dirty work? News flash, I've tried to kill her! Yeah, she's a she now, it's her turn! Some of you I've even worked with! I helped YOU with the Cyberium!”
“The evidence shows otherwise. You simply can no longer be trusted.”
The Kasaavin leader dared to talk against him. The Master questioned how he could even be here, after the Doctor's exile of their race from the planet. Their hatred for him must be strong enough to transcend dimensions. It was almost romantic.
“I’m nothing like the Doctor! I don't even LIKE the Doctor! Sure, I had a bit of a wobble in morals, tried to be good..ish… but I'm back!”
The Master was positively exasperated. His messy hair and wide eyes making him look manic.
“So can somebody, anybody: any man, woman, robot… fish thing. I don't care. Can somebody tell me, what do you all think makes me like the Doctor?”
There was silence across the room. The Master's outburst had made them think. The Master watched them, eyes begging for an acceptable reply. Finally, the Cyberman spoke.
“YOU HAVE GROWN SENTIMENTAL. YOU HAVE TAKEN A COMPANION.”
You. Oh, you. This couldn't just be about you.
The variables began to bubble and clash within the Master's brains. Everything seemed to come back to you. Your choice in trip, your favorite subject, favorite book, you attack from the guard, your fake identity as a queen. And your current fate... However unknown it was.
Surely this couldn't be about you.
“The memories of your companion were extrapolated. A scenario was formed as a test of your intentions.”
“Mercy for a human! Defence over a fleshy girl, instead of the opportunity for universal destruction! Your allegiance cannot be guaranteed, your newfound kindness poses a threat to us all!”
The Master huffed, his hearts fighting within his chest. This couldn't be happening.
“It was you, wasn't it? You took took control of my Tardis-”
“YOUR COMPANION WILL BE DISPOSED OF. YOUR IMPRISONMENT IS A RESULT OF YOUR MERCY.”
“You fell into a trap that you simply could not resist. The draconian empire condemns you.”
“You’re going to kill her, and imprison me, just because you can't trust me to not be good!?”
“The safety of the alliance is paramount.  Your history of meddling in Dalek affairs, your part in the destruction of Skarro and our creator, the data cannot be ignored.”
The Master couldn't breathe. The surrounding forces were drawing closer and closer, surrounding him and his line of vision. The walls of the chamber had disappeared within the bodies of the alliance. They were really going to turn on him. They really intended to kill you.
“We will save our universe. From you!”
His mouth was dry. His palms were sweating, his breathing shallow, his rage burning like the brightest of suns. The Master glared upon the alliance, eyes twitching with inconsolable rage. This day had been long. He’d been tested far too much, pushed way too far. This morning he was lying in bed, embracing the warmth of the Tardis and your body against his own. But now his world was being stripped away from him. 
Angry didn't begin to cover it.
“Now you listen to me- you bring her back, you know for a fact the destruction of a Tardis in the Vortex will ripple through this universe. And then you’ll have me to deal with.”
“NEGATIVE. YOUR IMPRISONMENT CANNOT BE AVOIDED.”
“Your companion will perish. Your isolation will be permanent. This is confirmed.”
The Master let out a furious scream, a bitter yell that ripped harshly against the back of his throat. The tribe of Silurians hissed and stepped backwards, raising their weapons.
“LISTEN TO ME! If she dies, if my ship burns, I will rip this box apart inch by inch and I will destroy every single one of your ugly little races!”
His shoulders were heaving, spit flying from his mouth as he spat between gritted teeth.
“I will bring down destruction on every one of your stupid little planets and your silly little spaceships. I’m a Time Lord, my people have made a mockery of you since the days you formed on your tiny little rocks, floating through space. I’ll show you how merciful I can truly be as I kill you all slowly, one by one, so you can watch what happens when you think you can destroy me. I am the Master, and you will all pay for this!”
The Cyber leader stepped forwards, clenching a fist to its chest. It looked deep into the Master's eyes, its soulless black pits of metal mesh showing no humanity nor hesitation.
“SEAL THE PANDORICA.”
“Listen to me, you will obey me! The Tardis will implode, your worlds are in so much more danger than you could possibly realise!”
The heavy walls of the Pandorica began to slide shut. The Master was frantic, tugging and yanking against his bonds. Nothing. The metal locks were clasped tight, his body imprisoned and trapped against the seat. His eyes were enormous, his hair flopping from side to side as he continued to fight against the seat. Still, there was no way of escape. No amount of fighting would work. That didn't stop him from trying his best.
“The universe will rot and perish if you harm her! Everything you know will be nothing but ash, I promise you! All your suns, your moons, your hopes, I will destroy each and every one of them! You can't do this to me! I am the Master! You will obey me!”
The Master's words echoed through the Underhenge, bouncing off every wall and dissolving into the gathered crowd. The alliance watched on as the timelord begged for his freedom, promising destruction in his wake. But these were songs they had heard before. Plans ruined by opportune chance, and disappointing failure at the hands of his old friend.
“YOU WILL OBEY ME!”
The Master screamed, as the walls of the Pandorica finally snapped shut. With a hiss the edges of the box sealed together, the mechanical insides ticking away as the glowing green sides twisted and interlocked. As the box gave its last rumble, the Pandorica was finally sealed. The legendary trickster, the mischief maker that had destroyed worlds and brought down civilisations, finally locked within.
The Tardis hurtled through the Vortex, crashing against the walls of time, its engines phasing and crying out as the cloister bell rang from within. You crawled across the floor, scrambling back towards the console, fingers grasping onto anything they could purchase. Sparks flew beside your head, the cables linked to the belly of the console fizzing and pulsating as you begged the console to calm down. You’d been with her for years now, you knew how the Tardis would normally fly. This definitely wasn't her doing. This definitely wasn't her in control.
Your hand smacked hard against the side of the communicator, the line still ringing out every time. You’d tried to call the Master several times, each instance ringing and ringing with no return. He never refused to reply. You clutched on tight as another wave of turbulence hit the flight deck, the trinkets and knick-knacks you’d gathered on your travels tumbling from every shelf and crashing into nothingness against the floor. 
“Please, Master, answer me!”
Nothing. He simply wasn't there.
You couldn't cry yet, there was still hope. Or at least, you tried to convince yourself. You hoped for a miracle, for something that would help you regain control of the Tardis. You didn't want to die.
“Master, please! I’ve not got much time!”
Your calls were falling on deaf ears. Nothing was going to save you. A rogue spark suddenly flew from the console, knocking you backwards as the Tardis collided with the Vortex once more. You flung back towards the floor, head colliding with the hardwood as you fell. You felt the impact through your whole body, all strength slipping through your fingers as your eyelids felt heavy. From your position on the floor you could see out the window, the reflection of the flaming Tardis console bathing the Vortex in deep orange.
“Master, I love you, I'm sorry…”
You whispered, your vision beginning to fade. You gazed deeper into space, watching as the world shook and disappeared around you.
And as you blacked out, every star began to fade from the sky.
68 notes · View notes
Text
Feeding The Flames: Wild Ride
Summary- 2.5k Johnny Storm x You. Johnny always had a wild side, needing the rush of speed and adrenaline. You might have a bit of a dangerous streak in you as well. After one of his competitions, he sneaks you back into the Motorsports Arena to give you a hell of a ride. 
This is written for @imanuglywombat​‘s “Is That Even A Sex Position” Weekly Challenge NSFW, 18+ Sexual Content, mentions of anal. Divider made by @firefly-graphics
Masterlist
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“You are sure about this Johnny?” You asked as he ducked his head out of the riders changing room, glancing around at the semi darkened arena. His eyes bright with excitement as he took your hand and tugged you along with him. 
“Everyone is gone Y/N, they packed it all up an hour ago.” He assured you as he stepped into the arena, where just a couple hours ago he had raced his course with several other contestants. You had stood then on the sideline cheering your ass off when his score had come across the screen placing him in next week's finals. “Wait right here while I go get my bike.” He pecked an excited kiss to your forehead and you fiddled with your suit he had you put on in the locker room nervously. Johnny twisted on his heels, walking backwards while admiring you, giving a low whistle as he looked you up and down. “I ever tell you how hot you look in that?” 
You arch a disbelieving brow and stuff the helmet on your head that you had carried out under your arm. “Super hot, I think I'm going to wear this on our next date night.” 
“You won't hear no complaints from me if you do.” He quipped back while turning away and racing away to grab his dirt bike. In the quiet of the arena, your eyes roamed over the seats that had been full before, and you started to imagine it full of cheering fans. Even though it made you feel a bit shy, you could see why Johnny loved this so much. Fans screaming and cheering you on after a daring trick, since that was all Johnny ever wanted to do, it would be a rush. Soon the arena was filled with the rev of a motor and the dirt bike spun out from the other end where Johnny had it stored, racing towards you till he spun it in front of you, pausing sideways in front of you. 
“Take you for a ride?” He leaned back enough to leave you room to sit in front of him. You were quick to straddle the vibrating machine between your thighs and wriggled your ass back till you were snug against Johnny's groin, making him rumble in his chest that was pressed against your back. 
The noise of the dirt bike took over as it jerked forward, you two raced towards the towering hills, Johnny was sure to steer next to a small jump, sending you two jumping over it and landing on the other side with  a thump, making you scream excitedly. Johnny pressed further against your back to keep you steady while going over a series of bumps before twisting towards a bigger one. 
Much bigger, your eyes widened at the sight and you braced for impact. Johnny took it gracefully though and when he sent it flying into the air, you screamed this time, adrenaline pumping into your veins and the exhilaration making your heart race against your chest. This time when you two landed with a thump, Johnny pulled it to a stop. You yanked your helmet off and twisted to turn on your seat, facing him while abashedly exclaiming. “Johnny, damn I get it now. WHAT A RUSH.” your hands are sliding up his chest rabidly and your thighs clench against the bike because all that excitement has spiraled through your entire body, including a heated ache in your core. 
It was a rush for him as well, not so much the ride but seeing the way you just exploded from it. Your hair was a bit disheveled from the helmet and your words spilled in a rush like you couldn't get them out enough. Your touch, he could feel the way you grabbed at him to pull him into you, even your hips rocked subtly while your thighs were super tense. He just knew you were wet, aching, wanting, and in this moment he wanted that vital energy you were brimming with as his own. Your eyes snapped to his and your next words were just what he wanted to hear. “Fuck I really need you right now.” It was all he needed, Johnny was fucking hard for you. 
He dug his hands into your ass cheeks and pulled you forward against him on the motorbike, your hands working his helmet off to ditch it in the dirt nearby while grasping his cheeks that were flushed red and sweaty, hair spiked up with helmet hair, and blown pupils from adrenaline. Your heart never was racing so fucking fast or your blood pumping so hard that you could hear the echo in your ears. “Jesus fucking christ Johnny if you don’t fuck me right on this track.” You hissed and grabbed the front of his uniform to yank him into you, lips crashing and teeth biting at each other. 
“Fuck I plan on it.” He snapped right back, his hands working through the zipper at the top part of your suit and yanked it open to palm your tits, nipping at your neck as you breathed out sharply and flung your head back, getting lost in the feeling of Johnny taking over. “Bend you over and fucking destroy that pussy.” He promised and you dragged teeth against your bottom lip with a moan, covering his hands with yours and pressing your own fingers between his to pull at yourself as much as he twisted your nipples, making you whine. 
“Bend me over? Fuck please Johnny.” You squealed out when he licked up your neck to bite back at your lips and yanked his hands away from your breasts. 
“Get off and turn around.” He pushed you back and steadied you with a grasp to your hip as you leveraged yourself off with a swing of your leg and a hold on his shoulders, excited. Twisting around like he had told you, Johnny was right behind you, swinging his legs over the motorbike and caging you in between his thighs, his hands working your body suit off further. The more skin that got exposed, your neck was lashed with his tongue heatedly and down to your shoulders, making you sway at the sensation as your body suit gets pushed down over your hips and down your thighs, reaching behind you to fist your hand in Johnny’s suit at his chest, your step from it, shaking your legs to get rid of it. 
Once you got out of it, Johnny crashed behind you, his palms back to your breasts while sucking his marks into your neck. Push, pull, he kept your captured against his chest, making you wriggle against him, pressing your ass now into his hardness pressing against your cheeks.
“You all wet for me Baby? Cause you have me so fucking hard I could come right in my fucking suit.” 
You smirked, unable to help yourself, you grabbed onto one of his wrist and yanked it down between your thighs, forcing his fingers to rub at your clit while squeezing your thighs together to hold his hand in place. “Am I? Dripping wet and hot Johnny? You tell me.” You moaned while looking over your shoulder at him. 
“Fuck Y/N” He circled harder, faster and kissed you again messily while you panted against his mouth, feeling the coils in your belly start to turn into raging heat. So close, your body was starting to tighten and snap with your coming orgasm, but he ripped his hand away and pushed at your shoulders to snap your forward. 
You yelped in surprise while landing on your palms, bent over just like he said he was gonna. Hands heatedly grasped your cheeks, spreading them while Johnny sucked in air through his teeth at your clenching holes. 
“Fuck, they both look tempting.” His thumb traced around your tight ring and you wriggled your ass. 
“Next time Johnny, I really need you to fuck my pussy right now.” You whined out, and he plunged fingers into your sopping heat to feel you clench harshly around him. 
“Next time? You gonna let me fuck that tight hole?” He sounded excited as his hand tapped against your ass to make it jiggle. 
“Sometime, maybe, we will talk about it. But come on Johnny.” You pushed back into him impatiently and he leaned over while working his suit open to drop it enough to release his cock. As soon as he pulled himself out, you felt his heavy throbbing cock rut between your ass cheeks while he spread his thighs a little more. 
“Lift your foot Y/N.” He steadied your hips and you stretched a leg up, hooking your ankle over the dirt bikes's seat, and he tilted your hips enough to lift your other, his cock pressing between slick folds. Your head dropped a bit as your arms wavered. 
“Don't you dare drop me Storm.” You puffed out and his grasp tightened on your hips while he pushed into you, stretching around his cock which at this angle made you feel stuffed to the brim. 
“You really think I would drop you Baby? I've never dropped you before.” He gave a dirty grind that rubbed his groin into your plumped ass he was holding up as well as his cock splitting you open with every thrust he gave while pumping you back on him. 
You wanted to respond with that one time he did drop you, but his cock rubbed against your velvet walls, squelching noise around him. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as his cocks head pressed against this one spot. 
This one glorious spot that rippled up your spine and tingled through your head till your jaw went slack and you made the most needy noises. “Again Johnny, harder.” 
It was a whole different pleasure, why you so loved doing doggy style with Johnny. The slap of his hips against your ass would jerk you forward, the way Johnny would lose control and whip you back and forth, his grunts mixing with the sharp yelps you gave. “So fucking tight like this, that pussy is just pulling me in.” He grunted above you and you nodded vigorously, trying to keep your arms locked to keep you up. Your tits bounced with every slam he gave you and your muscles just kept spasming. 
“Joh-Johnny, fuck fuck fuck, yes, fuck yes. I'm going to cum.” You squealed and sagged forward a bit till he yanked you back harshly, your toes curled and legs quivered with the coming orgasm, rattling the motorcycle you were using as leverage. “I need it, I need to cum.” 
Johnny flexed his fingers harshly, his shoulders and biceps straining with holding onto you and swinging you back and forth to slap himself into you, he was close to, his balls drawing to tighten while his cock twitched in your greedy pussy. That greedy pussy that he was gonna just gonna fill with his seed, leave it drizzling down your thigh, the thought made him feral. 
As well as sending that white hot heat licking his skin, sweat drizzling down the sides of his temple as he snapped his palm against your ass, roaring out. “Cum for baby, drench my cock cause I'm stuffing you so full.” 
It was enough to make you lose that bit of control you had while he turned sloppy, hips jerking and grinding in behind you, you tilted your head to bite in your upper arm squealing while he fucked you vigorously, his arm loping around your lower stomach and fingers rubbing your clit to make you squirt around him, sobbing into your straining arms while he pumped his seed deep into you and then turned shallow, dragging his swollen cock through your sopping heat that kept clenching to hold him in. But his cock jerked out, cum sweeping through your entrance to flood through your folds and drizzle down your thighs thickly as he continued to shoot cum over your ass. “Fucking Hell.” He growled out as his hand pumped himself, thick ropes drizzling all over you. 
You were panting, about to lose your position when he loomed over you, wrapping his arms around you and groaning in your ear. “Drop your feet, I got you baby.” With relief you did and he tightened his hold to pull you back to a stand, he fell bare ass against the bike's seat and you sagged into his laps, head falling back to his shoulder as you felt the blood rushing in your temples at the sudden change of position. Air burned in your lungs as you took gasping breaths. You could feel Johnny huffing against your neck, his chest pressing against your back just as rapidly as your own chest was moving. His hold slightly loosened to rub his palms up your stomach back to massaging your breasts, making you chuckle at the lazy way he palmed you. 
You let your own slide up his thighs pressed underneath you, giggling once you caught your breath. Johnny lifted his head to look at you with a curious look and you moved to a stand and reach down to pull your suit up, glancing around the arena. “I cant believe I let you flip me upside down and fuck me senseless in the middle of this place. Anyone could have walked in.” You shake your head a bit and Johnny grins now that he knew what was on your mind, tucking his cock away and pulling you in against him. 
“I just came here to ride, if we’re getting caught it's because of you Baby.” 
You rolled your eyes at him and a shake of your head made you scoff as you pressed your lips to his, letting your arms fall around his shoulders so you could playfully tease the back of his neck, nipping at his full bottom lip, so pink and tempting all the time. “Don't you DARE blame it on me Storm. You were just as hot for it as I was.” 
“You got me there.” He winked and let his hands roam to cup your ass, pulling you in to grind against him. “I am never gonna get enough of loving on your sweet body and making you cry my name.” 
You hummed happily and pulled away from him, wriggling your brows. “Can we do the jump now?” 
Johnny swung up and straddled the dirt bike, scooching back so you could climb on in front of him after grabbing the helmets you both ditched earlier and stuffed yours on your head and he took his own to do the same as well. His arms were protective as they circled around you and thighs capturing your to press them tight against the side of the machine. “Hold on Baby.” 
A twist of his wrist revved the dirt bike and then he spun it around, shooting a trail of arena dirt behind him as he sped it up, flying you both towards one of the first jumps on the track, his chest pressing into your back, making you both lean forward while the dirt bike started to make its climb. 
Your adrenaline spiked just as you two crested the top of the hill and tires spinning as it lifted away from the ground.
Tumblr media
302 notes · View notes
butterflyinthewell · 3 years
Text
Raditz headcanons!
(Warning: some nsfw text ahead! Scroll to the second picture to avoid it.)
Tumblr media
The funny stuff:
Raditz fucks. He calls himself a slut because he fucks often and he’s good at it.
He is happy to suck dick, eat pussy and eat ass for money. He’s not picky as long as the presented part is clean.
He’s proudly bisexual.
His dick is huge. Monstrous.
He loves to land on a planet he’s going to decimate and shmooze, go to bars, get drunk, say he’ll let them live if the sex is good, fuck whoever offers and kill everyone there anyway.
He rawed Zarbon’s brains out because Zarbon said he doubted Saiyajins could fuck. Zarbon still refuses to admit it’s the best dick he ever got in his life. All Raditz has to do is grab at his own crotch around Zarbon and that pretty jerk gets all flustered.
Raditz loves to be naked. He’s immodest and an exhibitionist, so he only wears clothes because he gets tired of people yelling at him to put some on.
He’s that guy who will eat the most disgusting food item or food mixture you put in front of him just to gross out everyone watching. Ice cream with toothpaste? Pop tarts with ketchup on them? Something alive and wiggly? Sure, he’ll eat it without flinching and watch you squirm.
He’s an expert troll. No, he’s a god-tier troll.
Once, he pranked the Ginyu Force by making Guldo stink. Guldo has no sense of smell, so Raditz smeared rotten meat all over the inside of his armor once while the little guy was in the showers. It took a week to figure the stink out, but nobody knew Raditz did it.
He can do a pretty good impression of Zarbon’s voice, so he once got a bunch of troops outside of Freeza’s room under “orders from Zarbon”. He got caught for that one and got his ass beat, but he’ll say it was worth it.
He draws things on the back of Nappa’s bald head while Nappa is asleep. Usually faces, but once or twice it was a dick or butt crack.
Once, he sent a dick pic to Freeza’s scouter during a debriefing and made the little bastard choke on his wine.
Another time, he got a dick pic onto the debriefing display and it ruined the whole meeting because everybody started yelling at each other. Raditz sat back and watched the chaos unfold with a shit-eating grin on his face. Yep, he showed the entire Freeza Force a picture of his enormous fully erect dick and he’d do it again.
And another time, he played the audio of Zarbon moaning and gasping all over Freeza’s ship, and Zarbon couldn’t do anything about it because it would mean confessing to letting Raditz fuck his brains out. Zarbon likes to project this image that he’s chaste and above such base desires, so being reminded of the time he had with Raditz embarrasses him so so sooooo much.
He jacked off into Freeza’s wine once. Freeza took a drink, spat it out and killed the guy who brought the wine. Nappa and Vegeta were in on this one, so the three of them snickered about it for months.
He taught Vegeta how to kiss by making out with him. It sorta broke his heart a little when Vegeta later said he wasn’t interested in him that way, cuz he had a bit of a crush on the Saiyajin prince.
Raditz might act cold and uncaring, but he has a big soft spot for kids. He wants to settle down and have some of his own someday. Unfortunately, life under Freeza doesn’t give him that opportunity. Plus, he’s a little afraid to for the genetic reasons about to be mentioned below.
Tumblr media
The serious stuff:
Raditz’s biggest struggle is his epilepsy.
He was born with a rare gene mutation called a Naeb deletion (or Naeb syndrome) that kills most Saiyajin babies before their second birthday. (It’s pronounced “naw-EEB”.)
There are four Naeb genes in the average Saiyajin, or seizure suppressor genes. All four have to be present or a Saiyajin comes out with Naeb syndrome. Raditz is missing two of these genes.
Some Saiyajins carry an extra (fifth) Naeb gene-- a mutation-- that causes these deletions in children. If only one parent has that gene, the chances of a kid with Naeb syndrome are fifty-fifty. If both parents have the mutation, all their kids come out with it and it's usually fatal. Bardock had an extra Naeb gene, but Gine didn't. That's why Raditz has seizures and Goku doesn’t.
Every Saiyajin with Naeb syndrome is missing their last set of molars, has two extra ribs, has denser than average bones and extremely long hair. Their brain development is also faster than average, which can mean it grows faster than the skull around it. Sometimes the skull doesn’t grow fast enough to keep up with the brain, so the brain is crushed.
Structurally, Raditz’s brain has all the parts it’s supposed to, but they’re in slightly different places. He has less cerebrospinal fluid than average, his corpus callosum looks like a ring from the side and his lateral ventricles are smaller because his brain had to fold in on itself more to fit inside his skull. There’s a spot in his parietal lobe that’s pressed right up against the inside of his skull, and his meninges and a few millimeters of cerebrospinal fluid are the only thing that stops his brain from lacerating itself. That spot is always spiking with abnormal electrical activity. It’s like a match striking over and over. His brain doesn’t like being so squished in his skull, so sometimes it misfires when that “match” strikes and you get a flame, which is a seizure.
Raditz has a few different seizure types depending on which parts of his brain react to the constant “striking” activity and some of his seizures have a few triggers.
Doctors call Raditz’s epilepsy “mild”, but Raditz disagrees and considers it severe because he’s the one affected by it and not them.
He’s tried many different medications and none work. Surgery isn’t an option because Saiyajins don’t tolerate brain surgery very well and the chances of developing new seizure sources outweigh the benefits.
His scouter records and logs his seizures. He gets the time of the seizure, the length of the seizure and a video of the environment he was in. (If something flashes, the flashing is removed.)
Flashing lights can trigger seizures. His scouter has special polarized glass that counter flashes whenever someone’s ki flashes, so he just sees a solid color in that eye. Blocking one eye helps prevent the electrical excitation in his brain that turns into seizures. This doesn’t work if he’s exposed to flashing lights for longer than sixty seconds though. This is meant to give him time to turn away or cover his other eye.
He can’t go anywhere with strobes because of his seizures. Bars are okay since most don’t have strobes, but nightclubs are inaccessible.
Focal aware seizures are his most common seizure type, and he can have hundreds of these a day. They’re twenty seconds long. You can’t tell he’s having one unless you know what to look for, which is a faint quiver in his eyelids when he blinks. Sometimes he closes his eyes until the worst part of it is over.
It’s hard for him to describe how these seizures feel. They start as a little tingling at the tip of his thumb that spreads to his wrist. It’s a very annoying sensation. Then he gets sudden vertigo like someone yanks the ground sideways. During that vertigo he perceives everything as being way too close and too real. He gets a strong sense of doom. That’s the worst part. Then it’s over. The tingling stops, his senses return to normal and his heart rate slows.
He learned to compensate for the vertigo, so he can still fly and fight while having a focal aware seizure and nobody would know the difference.
Atonic seizures aren’t his most devastating seizures, but they’re the only seizure that embarrasses him to have in public. His muscles suddenly lose tone and he blacks out for a split second. If he’s walking or standing, he falls headfirst to the ground. If he’s sitting, he slumps. If he’s flying, he loses altitude for a second or two.
His atonic seizures happen when he doesn’t get enough sleep. They tend to come in clusters of two or three in a row. They can mess with his memory, causing him to lose a few minutes or be confused about where he is. If he’s in the middle of a conversation, he might forget what was being talked about, but reminding him gets him back on track.
Tonic clonic seizures are Raditz’s most devastating seizures. These are the big bad seizures that can be triggered by flashing lights. He can have them spontaneously, too, and averages about one or two a week.
Spontaneous ones start with his usual tingly focal aware seizures. He knows it’s going to generalize if the tingle continues up his arm instead of fading away. The second the tingle reaches his neck, he goes. His eyes roll back, he gets stiff, he shakes and he’s down for awhile.
Induced seizures give him no warning other than a sudden, extremely intense pain in the back of his skull. Induced seizures are worse than spontaneous ones because they’re more violent and last longer.
Some of his other weird TC triggers are going into or coming down from an oozaru transformation, getting dehydrated, not eating enough, being awakened out of delta wave sleep and stimulants like caffeine.
Regardless of how a TC started, he loses several hours of memory and doesn’t get it all back. His worst seizure wiped out a month of his life and he never regained those memories.
If he just ate, he will puke as he enters the tonic phase of the seizure. This is a huge choking hazard for him. He doesn’t care if he pees or poops himself during a seizure, but vomiting is really bad. If he just ate a huge meal and feels a TC coming, he’ll stick his finger down his throat and get the puking done before the seizure hits.
He almost always wets or soils himself during the clonic phase unless he just went to the bathroom before he had it.
If he powers up as a TC starts, his power rises uncontrollably until the tonic phase progresses into the clonic phase, then he releases massive ki waves that destroy everything around him. He hits power levels he can’t reach while conscious and in control of his ki, but this is dangerous because he could power up until he explodes and there’s no way to stop it.
His instinct when he realizes a seizure is generalizing is to either finish a fight quickly or power down and go hide to have the seizure because he knows he’s vulnerable during and after.
The worst seizure of his life was caused by Captain Ginyu. He goaded Raditz into attacking without his scouter and flickered a ki ball right in his face. Raditz went down. The Ginyu Force kicked him around while he was on the ground seizing. Nappa lured them into a fight to stop the unfair beating and Vegeta dragged Raditz away to finish the seizure. It was awful because Raditz threw up and soiled himself and the Ginyu Force made sure he got covered in all of it.
Raditz doesn’t remember this and neither Vegeta nor Nappa told him what really happened.
Post-ictal Raditz will remove anything on his body that feels bad, so he often ends up naked. He won’t recognize friend or foe and isn’t going to react kindly to being crowded.
If he’s alone, he’s likely to sit staring at the ceiling or sky until he collapses into sleep.
His scouter shows him a picture of his attack ball if he’s on a mission and that’s enough incentive for him to go find it even while too confused to tell someone his own name.
After his post-seizure sleep, he wakes up kinda giddy and hyperactive as his unsettled brain chemistry tries to restore balance. He will be sore as hell, too, usually that’s how he knows he had a seizure.
Nappa and Vegeta have seen so many seizures. They take bets on whether Raditz will pee, poop or do both. Then they’ll flip him on his side and wait it out. Barring emergency retreats, they don’t let him leave an area until he can identify a scouter by name.
Yep, seizures messed up some of his slutty sexual escapades. Usually by killing whoever he was trying to fuck since the violent convulsions hurt other people and his immediate environment more than they hurt him.
And finally…
The loss of planet Vegeta isn’t something Raditz likes to talk about. He was on a scouter to scouter call with someone there when it happened and all he heard was a bunch of screaming. He still can’t handle listening to recorded audio of screaming people because it reminds him of hearing his planet die.
31 notes · View notes