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appleblueberry-pie · 2 months

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You asked Yan!Miguel requests and I shall deliver

Yan!Miguel with a spider!reader that wasn't bitten by a spider but rather was experimented on (Alchemax still doing shady stuff) and has the same superpowers as Miguel (only that their venom is deadly).

However even after surviving the tragic things their canon indicates, they're a ball of sunshine.

oh yeah. it's all coming together.

MINE, ALLLLL MINE.

Miguel was having mixed feelings. He was coming to a point where it was hard to focus on his important work. It was hard to ignore his anxiety stomachache. Hard to ignore the usual annoying people that just wouldn't leave him alone in his man cave. And it was especially hard to forget about you. It wasn't ever possible to not think about you, but he just couldn't push you to the back of his head for at least two minutes. It was hurting him. It was also hurting his technology he kept destroying(he crushed two keyboards and threw his printer).

Why can't he just figure you out? Since Jess found you in your universe and immediately gave you the green flag to help his team of spider-people, he's found out so many things about you. But every time he is given an answer about one thing, it just digs him into a deeper hole of realization that he really doesn't know you. For starters, there's no legal government information of you anywhere. He's been watching you through his monitor for at least 2 hours a day, and most of your day consists of you beating ass. Like you have no other thing to do in your life, not to mean it in an insulting way.

It's just weird, because almost all spider-people have lives outside of them being spiders. But the more he observes you, your superhero life just reminds him more and more of....himself. You didn't have the obvious genetically-enhanced spider build that usual spiders do. Which was taller and slimmer. You were for sure taller(he did his research, you sprouted by 6 inches in height), but you were more on the muscular, bigger side. And this way, you would benefit more for close combat to take down enemies, instead of almost entirely relying on your webs. Similar to how he was. Another example to further explain, is he was watching you on his monitor while you had a mission to bring another universe's Green Goblin back to their universe. He found that your webs were obviously bio-engineered. Either you made these yourself, or someone made them for you. So, you were physically more powerful than the usual spider, had bio-engineered webs, and the way you fought.....

You had chased down that Green Goblin like he killed your family. It's not an exaggeration. GG was fast, but you were faster. He took multiple jerks around corners and through narrow alleyways, flying to get away from you. But you caught him. Slammed his body into the brick wall, damaging it. He screamed bloody murder to get away from you, and you just kept hitting him. He watched as your fist collided with his face multiple times. And when you finished, he saw you basically unhinge your jaw to show your long, venom-dripping, white fangs. They showed beautifully through the video footage lighting. They had to hurt when they protruded, it had to. But you didn't seem to care about anything in that moment besides finishing off your prey. You sunk your fangs into his neck, piercing them into his flesh as deep as you could, your regular teeth almost breaking into his skin as well. GG's scream of excruciating pain faded into complete silence. Miguel watched the man go limp in you arms. Was he dead? You held him to your body as close as you could to hide your catch from anyone who could've found the both of you. It concerned him so much with how you went about finding him, he had to interrupt you by calling your watch. You seemed to snap out of whatever trance you were in and removed your teeth from the now limp villain.

"Hello?" Your sweet voice rang through his watch and he couldn't find the right words to tell you to just bring the poor guy back to base. When you did, three doctors had to help resuscitate Green Goblin. What the hell did you do? You were asked this multiple times and you just felt more and more guilty when people continued to say it to you. Miguel decided to step in and remove you from the emergency room and just told you to take a few days off. All he could say to you is you deserved it, so you took his word. He immediately turned his monitors back on when you went back home, because it wasn't the end of your continuous mysteries.

When you go home, you clean up and then disappear. This wasn't news to him. But it was confusing because the cameras couldn't catch where you possibly went, even at different angles. It was somewhere in your bathroom. You'd open the shower curtain, step into the shower, close it and then not come out for the next 5 minutes. You did this once every two weeks. Other times when you were gone for the day, he tried to find the secret room you obviously had and...nothing. He couldn't find a damn thing. The wall was solid, it didn't seem like it was hiding anything. He scanned it multiple times with different gizmos he had up his sleeve, but nothing. So, after installing a small robotic fly that he placed into your home, he got lucky and managed to slip into a room hidden behind your shower when you went in at the dead of night. The room was almost entirely dark and all you had in there was countless metal bottles of some sort of a glowing serum and you would inject it into your shoulder. Something very similar to what he does to himself. He was surprised to next week with this information. What made it worse was that right after you injected yourself, you found his fake fly. So now you know someone was watching you. He can only hope you don't find out it was him who implanted it.

But now he was sure. You were just like him. It made him as happy as it made him frustrated because you had him all figured out. You knew he used injections, that he wasn't a natural spider, you probably also knew he loved you to the moon and back. He had a soft spot for you, and it showed so much it was pathetic. You could walk into his cave and call out for him with your siren song, and he would immediately turn off everything and drift your way, sweet nicknames for you sliding off of his tongue like sugar. He only ever wanted to please you. And he felt like you knew this. But even with everything he just found out about you just today, he still seemed in the dark.

All he knew is that you were a happy-go-lucky sweet girl. He didn't know why you did the things you do. Why you inject yourself, and why you are so predatory and ruthless when you basically hunt villains down. So, he asks you.

"Miguel?" He swipes all of his holographic screens away and turns off the rest of his devices, making a 180 to fully face you as you hop onto his platform. The smell of Empanadas wafted up his nose as you give three separate containers to him. "The cafeteria guy said he had extras, so I brought as many as he would let me for you. I know you don't eat much since you're really busy." His heart swells with affection as he coos at your sincere kindness, opening one to take his first bite. "Ohhh, querida, you didn't have to."(My dear)

You watch him place the rest on his desk and he finishes chewing to talk to you. "Thank you......So.....I wanted you to see me so that I can talk to you about how you handle the anomalies in other universes, and maybe even the regular villains in your own universe." You nod understandingly and Miguel had to ignore his increasing heartbeat at your eyes staring up at him.

"I'll be honest with you, amor. When groups are out to capture an anomaly, I usually don't have to monitor them because I have other people to do that for me. But Jessica and I sent you off on your own, knowing how much we can depend on you to carefully capture the anomaly with no troubles, which I know you don't. But, still, I take precautions and monitor you every now and then to make sure if you're alright or if you need any support. But when I see you through the my screens....you are....particularly rough with them. And it's more rough than the usual spider would be." You seem to know what he was talking about and advert your gaze, messing with your suit. (Love.)

"Y/n, you almost killed Green Goblin the other day." You purse your lips and nod in agreement. "Yes, I....."

You hesitate to speak. You didn't want anyone to know about your past. Did he have to know? You guessed so, since you are a part of a really big multiverse-saving company. It was so hard to escape Alchemax when they fucking tortured you every single day for their own pleasures. That stupid serum you can't live without? You stole enough to live for the next 3 years. And that's all you really needed. You took an Alchemax worker's apartment that you found deep in their records, knowing that if you fake your emails and his work, you could live in secret. You didn't want to live on like this forever. You knew that after those three years ended, then they ended. And you would follow.

Your only hope for the rest of your life is to live in secret and to help people as much as you can before you died. The serum just makes you a little.....violent. Just the way that the scientists liked it so that you could run on it for longer than usual. So, here you are. But how are you supposed to explain that to your boss?

"......Y/n?" He softly calls your name, concern etching his face as he reaches out to touch your hand. He almost didn't want to, not knowing how you felt about it. But when his finger very lightly grazed your warm and soft palm, you blinked back to life, grabbing his hand back. A breath entered his lungs and he seemed to be reborn at your sudden advancement to his touch.

".....Yes. I do have something to tell you." His eyebrows scrunch as he nods and pulls up a random chair to sit and wait for you to talk. You told him everything. About how you are an experiment on legs, how you were from Alchemax, and that they were the people that really owned you. And you being a spider-person is just you doing as much as you can for the city you loved so dearly. How you only had three or less years to live with the serums you had hidden in your home. How you literally don't care if you die anytime before that, and you're doing your part in life that doesn't make you as useless as you thought you were.

Miguel watched you say all of this. He watched your face. He watched how you....really didn't care. You were so calm about all of these life threats that you continuously had hovering over your head. You live life every day as if it was your last. What if someone burned your house down? What if Alchemax found you?? What would happen to you then?

"I can help you. Lyla." He almost seemed to work on autopilot. "Bring me documents of the chemical makeup of my own serum for me. While you're at it, turn all of the equipment in Floor 4's laboratory on for me." All of his tech equipment were back on again as he pulled his own serum, meant for next week, out of his drawer. "Miguel...?" "Y/n, can you bring me one of your own serums? I'll be in the lab when you come back. Find me on the fourth floor. Lyla can show you the way."

"Miguel!" He pauses and looks down at you. You shake your head as a shaky smile is brought to your face. "I don't need you to do this for me. I'm fine with the way things are." Miguel scrunches his face and steps towards you. "Qué? Te estás escuchando a ti mismo? Y/n, I don't want you to die. Nobody wants you to die. Y-you need to be here, No entiendes? Do you want to be a spider for the rest of your life, violently killing people the way you were taught? You can be given a regular life. A new life, here with me! You deserve more than just....being a machine. Because you're more than just a weapon. You're human."(What? Are you hearing yourself?)(Don't you understand?)

Miguel went too far with his speech. He said too much. Every word that continued to spill out of his lips dug him into a farther hole. You were crying, but it still didn't help the fact that you now know that he probably is infatuated with you. He tries to save face by saying more, but instead, his hand reaches out to wipe the tears off of your face. It couldn't possibly be real, the way you leaned into his touch. Your wet face touched his palm and he stuttered endlessly. Fuck, he had to get out of here.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to say that to you. It was unprofessional." You shake your head and lift your face out of his hands, staring up at him with those glistening eyelashes, your beautiful shiny eyes looking up at him. "No.....I'm glad you told me that. I.....thank you." He looks away bashfully and takes a step back....another....and then another until he walks off out of the cave to go down to the laboratory.

What is he going to do about you? He loves you too much to let you continue doing this horrible job. It was killing you.

Something feels off about this, but I am going to post it anyways because it's been bothering me like a collar tight around my neck all day. Needed this badly.

#yandere #yandere x you #reader #yandere x reader #yandere character #across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel 2099 #miguel fanfic #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader

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odusseus-xvi · 8 months

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The French Speakers lore update cause we keep getting fed I'm not complaining ever again

General French lore :

- The Plane crash was planned. The survival of the five was planned, the deaths of the pilot and co-pilot are not considered casualties by the Federation. "He" was succesful in this mission.

- A flight attendant survived the crash but was heavily injured. Is currently under care from the Federation.

- (all of this was found by Baghera while looking for infos on her origins.)

ETOILES :

- Is an anthropomorphic Cucumber. Origins unknown.

- Has seen and been attacked by the Code on his first day while away from Spawn. Has missed every apparition for a while after that.

- Got his first fight against it during the election dinner. Ensued fights after fights for a while, with him being victorious in every single one of them.

- Got led and trapped in the Nether for a week. In which he was tasked with finding CPV02 , a legendary shield which counters the Code Sword. He found it and came back to the Island.

- Was then led to a coliseum where Code Pomme tried to trick him. He won the fight and got a broken half of a code sword : renamed IMMORTAL. Got a full sword at a later fight, and multiple messages telling him to "protect."

- His left arm started to use the power of the shield to heal itself. He lost his left eye in the process.

- Lost a fight against three Codes after that. Lost his Shield, Sword, and will to fight.

- Got taunted by the Codes and accepted some kind of rematch, which he won. The Code then made a proposal, help their fight against the Federation, and get his Shield back. He accepted, though said he would betray the alliance if they hurt thé islanders or the eggs.

BAGHERA JONES :

- Is a Duck-Human hybrid.

- Received a black Shulker with coordinates in her castle leading her to her childhood room. She was left shocked from remembering. The Federation retrieved her to prevent her from dying. She "woke up" around 2 weeks later in a Federation treatment room, which led back to her castle though a tp plate.

- Following informations are what she found in Books looking for her past.

- She was raised, experimented on and tortured by the Federation when she was little. She tried to escape by using a boat and a distraction using fire, but she failed.

- She had two caretakers. One was nice. The other replaced the first one, and looked like it, but was mean.

- She was fully created by the Federation along with other hybrids. She was probably a succesful attempt.

- Back to recent évents.

- She is extremely perturbed by the informations she got, and has been questionning her aliegeance to people of the Island.

- She burned any books that indicates her link to the Federation.

- Found a book containing coordinates and passwords of Fédération experimental laboratories, and departed to find out more.

- Was hired by the Federation to work at an extremely remote Federation Winery (1M blocks away from Spawn.) and traveled for a full week straight using one of his machines.

AYPIERRE :

- Is supposedly human.

- Started having dreams of having brain surgery performed by a White Bear. Succesfully built a Dream Printer Machine and printed this dream, proving it is actually a memory.

- Was appointed a health check by Cucurucho. It performed test on him, asking questions about his physical and mental health.

- Found hidden documents written by Fred. Following informations are what it relates :

- The Federation were after information he posess. They tortured him till almost death. They instead brought him back to health and got the information through performing brain surgery. (What they are after is currently unknown)

- Back to recent évents.

- He received a ticket to Quesadilla Island numbered 004 through the dice room.

- While falling asleep with the radio on, he received a vocal message from what seems like Cucurucho talking to it's "beatiful robot" and saying it was left behind, and would come back. He also received text message telling him that he would find thé answers by sleeping and dreaming.

ANTOINE DANIEL :

- ???

- Has a fourth face. It is hidden for a reason.

- Types "I hope you enjoy the island" in the global chat a bit too much for my tastes.

KAMETO :

- Left and is currently missing.

#qsmp #qsmp baghera jones #qsmp etoiles #qsmp aypierre #qsmp antoine daniel #qsmp baghera #qsmp antoine #qsmp kameto #qsmp french

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starshinegarcia · 1 month

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Holiday House

Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Part 2

In short: Hotch needs help, and you need a job. Part 1 of ?? we shall see how far this goes :) Warnings for mentions of alcohol (very infrequent) possible mentions of smut/cut to black scenes in the future! ;) __ Is in place of Y/N!!

“And the town said, ‘How did a middle class divorcee do it?’”

Aaron Hotchner was never one to admit to needing help, let alone one to ask for it. But as he sat in the dim light of the kitchen, a case file in one hand, a glass of whiskey in the other, a million thoughts ran through his head. His thumb rubs his temple gingerly, averting his gaze from the graphic crime scene polaroids, over to his son’s bedroom. Just a few hours earlier, he had called off abruptly to pick up Jack prematurely from school, after he had climbed to the very top of the jungle gym in an attempt to do something Garcia called “parkour”.

He survived with only a few scrapes and bruises, but it was clearly a drastic cry for attention.The door was open ajar, illuminated only by the dinosaur night light, casting a soft blue glow over the sleeping boy. When Haley had died, he had quickly realized that being a full-time father would not prove easy with his job. As time went on, it only got more difficult for him to divide his attention- and Jack’s recent episode at school was a cruel wake up call. One thing was evident- he needed someone to attend fully to him, and Hotch needed the ability to commit fully to his team, and to the BAU.

So, first thing in the morning, Penelope was faced with a curt knock on her office door. Spinning around in her chair, she rises and opens the door, Starbucks in hand. “Fancy seeing you here, hands- Oh, hello, sir, m-my apologies. I thought you were Derek.” She cleared her throat, but arched an eyebrow as she detected a faint twinkle in Hotch’s eyes. “Garcia.” “What do you need sir? Stats? Access to a secure database?” She spins around quickly, already typing the nearest case details into her supercomputer. “Well, actually, it’s more of a personal question. Do you happen to know any, uh, childcare workers?” “Like a nanny, sir?” He cringed at the cutesy word, but nodded nonetheless.

“Yes, I suppose.” Garcia pushed her glasses up her nose slightly, observing the man in front of her. Although she wasn’t technically a profiler, she knew Hotch well enough to find things out of place, as they were now. “Actually, yes, sir, I know just the person.” A slight plot began to form in her head, as she sent a number through her printer and into Hotch’s hands. “That’s my friend, __. She’s perfect, lots of experience, Jack would love her. Actually, sir, you would too..” Hotch fumbles for a second, before raising an eyebrow in her direction. “That’s quite enough, Penelope. This is strictly for Jack’s benefit. I appreciate this, however.” He nods curtly, backing out and bumping straight into a coffee-bearing Morgan. “Trying to steal my girlfriend, boss-man? Not cool.” Derek chuckles, pushing past him politely and planting a kiss on Penelope’s cheek. “Damn, I beat you to it!” He gestures to the coffee already in her hand. “I can always use more,” Penelope giggles.

Hotch shuts the door quickly, glancing down at the number in his hands. He walks quickly back to his office, passing right by Spencer and Rossi arguing about something or another. “With all due respect, sir, Logan Paul has absolutely nothing against Mike Tyson-” “He’s a billion years old!” Shaking his head slightly at his team’s banter, Aaron sinks into his chair, punching the number into the landline on his desk. Everyone else may use cellphones now, but Aaron still preferred the old fashioned way, when it came to business.

You had just finished an extremely degrading night shift at the diner, picking up your phone with a raised brow as you exited the back room. “Hello?” “Hello, this is SSA Aaron Hotchner. Is this __?” Your heart rate picked up- maybe from the fact that an FBI agent was calling you, maybe because his voice was low and steady and weirdly attractive. “O-oh, um, hello sir do you- need something?” Hotch takes notice of the light and airy pitched voice on the other side of the line, and something about it makes his heart skip a beat. He ignores it, proceeding, “I was wondering if you were prepared to interview for an in-home, uh, nanny job? For lack of a better word. Penelope Garcia gave me your number, and I trust her judgment for better or worse.” A smile spread across your face. “Absolutely, sir. When would be a good time to meet, Mr Hotchner?”

It’s strange. Aaron gets called sir about a hundred times a day, but something about your innocent voice sends a shiver down his spine that he can’t explain, but does his best to ignore. “Why don’t you stop by my house at around 6 tonight? We can talk, you can meet Jack, and we can go from there.” “That works for me, sir.” You smoothen out your skirt, a sudden blush chasing your cheeks as you think about meeting this mystery man, one you’d only heard anecdotes about from your best friend and her boyfriend. “Perfect. I’ll have Garcia send over my address.” The line clicks before you get the chance to respond, leaving you slightly flustered, with your hands wrapped around your cellphone a little more tightly than you thought, almost as if you were holding onto the idea of him. The poor man, left alone with his son, with a job like that.. You shake your head, quickly grabbing your purse, clattering your nametag down on the counter with a defiant “I quit.” to your manager as you happily left that damn place for the last time.

Back at the office, Aaron watches his team out in the bullpen, Morgan and Garcia enveloped in something on his desk while Spencer spins a rubix cube towards Emily, with a “good luck” sort of look. He’s not sure what the emotion he’s feeling is, but whatever it is, he brushes it off and grabs the case file dropped off earlier, emerging into the open office, with the same professional air as always- if a little less uptight than usual.

“Who knows, if she never showed up, what could have been?”

A/N: AHHH this was so so much fun to write!! I hope my writing style and the way I write Hotch is okay, I’m still new to the fandom and show but I did my very best! Suggestions are always welcome! Please like, comment, reblog and send me requests!

-e.a <33

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beyondthisdarkhouse · 8 months

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My mom comes over a couple of times a week to help me keep the apartment tidy and to body-double so I can focus on work.

"Mind if I open this?" she asked me this morning, holding up an envelope I'd tossed onto a pile of clutter the week before. I hadn't opened it because I already knew what it was—the decision of my appeal against being judged "medically ineligible" for permanent disability benefits, which are almost double what I get now and would cover rent and food. Absolutely everyone, from disabled advocacy groups to the legal aid lawyer who helped prep me for the hearing, told me that there was basically no chance I'd get deemed eligible on the first appeal. Normally it takes 2 or 3 application-appeal cycles (9-10 months each) for people to get into the program.

"Go ahead," I told her, and then turned back to other work. I've got a lot to do given how well my Kickstarter is doing, whether it's setting up the behemoth new printer I got off Kijiji for 10% of its original value, to scheduling work meetings with my newly-hired personal assistant. I've always got so much on my plate, and the number of hours in the day I can focus on it is countable on my hand that's missing fingers. And I'd love to get a sewing pattern out for my "just the sleeves, please" costume idea out in enough time for people to use it for Halloween, but I still need to make mock-ups and hire someone who's used to producing digital sewing patterns.

"I think," Mom said quietly, leafing through the letter, "that you won."

The letter ends like this:

Conclusion: The Panel finds that the Appellant meets the definition of "severe handicap" as is set out in the Regulation and therefore reverses the Director's decision.

Yeah. It means I won.

The benefits program will require another eight weeks to double-check my financial eligibility using information they already have, and to process my new program status to reflect an increased benefit rate and a different health insurance program.

Right now I'm really feeling this line from Komarr, by Lois McMaster Bujold: "But do you know--well, of course you could, but… the business with [throwing yourself at] the brick wall. Failure, failure was grown familiar to me. Comfortable, almost, when I stopped struggling against it. I did not know achievement was so devastating."

It felt like my whole life ended in a flaming wreck when I had to give up counselling. I lost part of who I was when I did that, and spent years telling myself I'd pull up my socks at any minute and go right back to it. But the truth is, I am not capable of doing that job as well as it needs to be done, and it's one of those jobs where you half-ass things at the peril of the vulnerable people who trust you.

And what if... the worst had happened, and I lost it all, and then in clawing my way out of the pit, trying to get purchase on absolutely any kind of survival I could, I found my way to something new and solid and real. What if it was okay after all?

I'm still having trouble believing it, but the letter keeps saying what it said.

I'm gonna go sew things, and see if it feels any more real in the morning.

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tim-shii · 1 year

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the stakes are high, the water's rough.

pairing: nagi seishiro x reader

tags: office au, office worker!nagi, he is not a football player in this, established relationship, fluff, introvert office worker nagi my beloved 😓

a/n: i love love love the ours mv by taylor swift so i was like ykw why not nagi office worker ,, makes u wonder what would happen if nagi didnt play football and became a pro hmm HAHHAHA my irls also helped w what do people even do in an office so ty to them theyre the best 🫶 enjoy this mwa also thank u nie babe (@fuyuluvr) for beta reading may kith ka sakin 😚

the morning air is definitely not good for the lungs. in a busy city, long gone were the fresh and cool winds of the province. instead, fog and vehicle smoke fill the atmosphere, smothering people on their way to work.

what a dull world to live in, nagi thinks. making his way towards the elevator after mindlessly showing his identification card to the probably half asleep desk attendant and high-fiving the friendly janitor who never fails to greet him every morning.

ding! as the doors slid open, nagi could feel himself melting to the ground. it’s 7:54 am, office hours start at seven. he’s late but so what? it’s not like his boss cares enough for attendance. because of this, he gets an extra 10 minutes to sleep in. so why? why is the elevator so full of people that he has to squish his 190 cm build who’s carrying a briefcase? sighing dejectedly, nagi thinks he should’ve just taken the stairs.

it was silent. other than the constant whirs of the elevator going up, no one dares speak a word. it makes nagi cringe, to be honest. he feels like he’s in a room with a bunch of npc’s just trying to do their role. as soon as the lift stops at the thirteenth floor, nagi is pushed left and right as his fellow employees rush to their desks.

nagi walks over to his desk sluggishly. each step just adds to his growing boredom. the office is still the same as ever. the coffee that toppled over yesterday is still left unclean and the corner plant who has seen better days.

dragging his feet to his assigned cubicle, nagi sat down with a huff. looking around, he notices mr. takahashi, his senior who has worked here for more than ten years, standing in front of the water dispenser just staring into space. yep. this will be a long seven hours.

throughout the day, nagi felt nothing but exhaustion and endless boredom. his boss was nowhere to be found, as usual. he went to three different printers in the office and not a single one of them worked. he couldn't even concentrate on the report he was working on because the beeping from his co-worker's game almost made him pull out his own console and neglect his duty. during lunch, two people whose names nagi didn't even care to know about kept snickering while looking back at him eating his melon bread. how bothersome, indeed.

as soon as the clock strikes four, nagi wasted no time in tidying up his things. rushing towards the exit, nagi even ditches the elevator and ran down the stairs instead, he high fived the janitor for the second time of the day.

while on the bus, nagi decided to play games to pass time. taking in his homescreen wallpaper. a picture of you two at a park, his arms around you from behind, his cheek squished against your own. you beaming at the camera and him having the most miniscule smile ever known to man.

two years ago, you got an offer to study abroad in an exchange student program. at first, you refused, not wanting to leave nagi behind and came along were the doubts if you're even gonna survive in a foreign place all on your own. but nagi talked to you about it and urged you to just go, he'll be fine. he was not fine. during the first week, nagi couldn't sleep. he felt homesick in his own home. at some point, he's even thankful his job is everyday and keeps him away from home, nagi can't believe he ever thought that.

and now, nagi's on his way to the airport. to pick you up. because finally, after two whole long torturous years, you're coming home. to him.

nagi waits at the doors, anxiously tapping his feet. looking ahead, his eyes met yours and all of a sudden, the world doesn't seem so dull anymore. he watches as you run towards him, dropping your baggage at your wake and throwing yourself at him. arms around his neck and legs around his waist, nagi holds you tightly as if he's afraid to let you go again. he pulls your face back, his palm feels warm on your cheek.

"hi, sei. did you miss me?" you whispered, oh so delicately. nagi didn't utter anything back, only staring at you. eyes wandering around your features, rememorizing the face he's only been seeing inside a tiny box for the last two years. nagi leans in slowly, taking your lips in his. he kisses you with longing and fervor.

"missed you. i missed you so much." you heard him mumble into the kiss. pulling back only to hide his face in your neck, nipping at the skin before putting you down.

"let's go home?" you ask him, hands cupping his face. he nods.

home. nagi thinks it's a nice word when you say it.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #blue lock nagi #seishiro nagi #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #tim writes.

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gaylordscooter · 2 months

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Log of the Multiverse: Error (Page 1)

Prefacing this by saying, if you see him, you're probably dead. so this entry doesn't really help with increasing your survivability against him.

I've seen him in person once—or at least i heard him once. It was when Dream portaled over to me to retreat from a fight.

he kinda let out some kind of scream out of anger?? it sounded like a distorted fax printer. I didn't realize the sound was even coming from a person (can error even classify a person?) the portal closed before i could get a good look at him (also before he could, y'know, enter the portal...)

Anyway. everyone knows about error so this entry's kinda useless i think. (but really there's only one copy of this thing so really this whole thing is kinda. just for me) im using the word "really" too often. does that matter? im the only one reading it.

yes it does matter because when i read back on this it'll bother the hell out of me. hello future me rereading this, yes i still go on tangents and write at ungodly times

error. the guy who destroys aus. it's his thing. for some reason idk we all have our quirks

he has a way of doing it too it's pretty organized actually (for the most part). he targets the human first and just kinda yoinks their soul and brings it to the antivoid so that the world cant be reset. and then he goes ham. (actually it's not that organized)

i asked ink if there's a pattern with which aus he destroys, which was a pointless question because ink's memory is worse than my ability to keep my train of thought. BUT he did tell me that he hasn't destroyed a single underswap au ever since i joined the team. odd way of wording it, makes it seem like i was the causation for that but obviously im not. maybe probably definitely.

makes me wonder what did cause error to stop attacking underswap aus...

oh. he also doesn't attack outertale aus, ink told me that too. but that's cus he finds the depths of space to be pretty (the charms of space remain unmatched, even for universe destroyers.)

i doubt he stopped attacking underswap aus because he found the environment pretty. who knows. thats something to look out for.

it would be much easier to find out if i could transverse aus by myself...

note to self: find a way to transverse aus without using ink as a personal taxi

#blue's (totally not diary) log

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rebirthgarments · 2 months

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Hi friends! We have a couple of updates to share.

Firstly, Seraj needs more than $3,300 to pull off his final Ramadan project before Eid. He wants to distribute it on the last day of Ramadan, which is in 3 days, so we need to get to $20k ASAP!

contribute at bit.ly/serajfund

The financial situation in Rah Fah continues to decline, with intermediaries taking a 15-17% cut when people get cash out. He is so hopeful that this project will work out! Helping others and bringing smiles to faces–especially those of children–is clearly one of Seraj’s passions.

Here are the project details, all thought up by Seraj himself. He has amazing ideas! 125-130 cash envelopes containing either 50 or 100 shekels each. Seraj will distribute them based on how large each family is. Seraj will also make 40 envelopes for kids, each containing 20 shekels.

Currently, Seraj’s plan is to distribute his envelopes on the last day of Ramadan, before Eid al-Fitr. Last time he tried to print something, the printer had no electricity. He has a plan this time for checking in early to make sure he has a chance to print.

Working with Seraj on his mutual aid projects has been such a tangible reminder that we reject the notion of charity (which is very rooted in the white savior complex and pity of Black and Brown folx), and even allyship (not enough action) instead are partners and collaborators with Seraj self directing, leading us, and constantly motivating us to to get to the next goal so he can achieve his vision!

Because Seraj and his family have managed to survive, he’s been able to give back. No NGOs or governments, just a 21-year-old young man helping as many of his neighbors as he can. In his words, “This is my duty, sisters, as long as I can help! Why don't I do that!”

Seraj is genuinely a superstar to everyone on our team. His generosity is humbling to us. We have so much to learn from Pale-eh -steinians.

Secondly, we have a date for our upcoming virtual dance party! Mark your calendars for Monday, April 29th in the evening (Pacific time). Sky is hosting this event to hype up our virtual auction for Seraj. Follow Sky on Instagram for more details @rebirthgarments or @radicalvisibilitycollective

If you’d still like to contribute items to the auction, go to bit.ly/fundraiserforseraj ! Seraj’s Support Soirée would like to offer an item or service for every budget. And we encourage a wide variety of dough-nation types! While many of them will be creative objects, they do not have to be.

Some examples:

a book you love or wrote

a framed photograph

a massage (local area bidders only)

a meditation session

a piñata

a tarot reading

a t-shirt you love or designed

stickers

a virtual lesson on social media marketing

visual art

a virtual dance lesson

Your items will be listed this week on Give Butter! (stay tuned for details!)

Our support soiree dance party will hype up the auction featuring selections from the archives of Rebirth Garments fashion performances while you can dance with Sky!

Thank you so much for being here for Seraj. He and his family are so deeply grateful for all of the ways folks have supported them and partnered with them to help others. And our team is so thankful for how you all have stepped up. Please share and contribute!

-Written by my team member Bex with additions by me!

[image Description: a flyer featuring a photo by Seraj of a small little kid with a blue plastic bag full of fresh fruits and vegetables. The kiddo has a heart emoji over their face and is smiling really big. They are wearing a red shirt that says “sleep time” with a sleeping bear on it. They are standing on a sandy ground in front of a tent. Text to the right of the photo on a red background reads: Gaza Sky Seraj’s mutual aid project for Ramadan in Rah-fah For part 2 of Seraj’s Ramadan project, he gave out 32 food parcels for 32 families around him in the displacement camps. Send support to his family + others! bit.ly/serajfund “ Underneath is a QR code with the link. ]

#gaza strip #gaza genocide #gaza #free gaza #radicallyvisible #queerfashion #mutual aid #go fund me #fundraising #free palestine #gazaunderattack #palestine #stand with gaza #vetted #I personally vetted this fundraiser

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wolven91 · 1 month

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Drifting - Part 11

“I am not one for politics. They make my scales itch.” Bemoaned Zeet as he walked ahead of Qik and Casper. His mobile platform moved and wandered without input from him as he stood upon it, grimacing at the two larger creatures. They had just left the boardroom where Casper had potentially just signed his body away if this went wrong.

“I would have thought we would have got more usable data from you by informing you and letting you just *work* with us.” The blue geckin continued, musing out aloud. Casper couldn’t help but grin widely, pleased by the geckin’s seemingly honest distaste for the situation.

Zeet was an engineer. A nerd. A geek, through and through. He cared about the machines he designed and made. The plots and schemes of others mattered little to him as long as they didn’t cross his wants and desires to improve on his designs. The geckin made an odd croaking throat noise. Casper spoke up.

“Let them work themselves into an early shed then, me and you are going to make a mech that’ll go down in history.” The young man offered, hoping to caress the geckin’s ego.

Qik grinned as well as he did when he blatantly hit his mark perfectly.

“You think?! Oh! Oh ho ho ho! Just think! First ‘no drift’ pilot in one of *my* machines making headlines. But we need you to succeed. Fame goes both ways, ah?” Zeet pointed out, before adopting a focused look, crossing his arms and touching a finger to his mouth. The two far larger creatures shared a glance as both of them felt themselves disappear to the geckin’s perspective.

“You’ll need survivability…” Zeet mumbled to him. “Heavy is always best for survivability, but it means taking the hits. Your agility shouldn’t be slept on. Light is just as good, if you don’t get hit.” The geckin snapped his head around to Casper.

“You stopped getting hit all the time?” The tiny creature demanded.

“What do you mean ‘all the time’? She got me *once*!” Casper shot back, thrusting a thumb sideways at Qik who remained silent, although her strut became more pronounced as they discussed her ‘perfect’ kill shot.

Zeet merely grinned at Casper and he was reminded that a grin from a geckin was *not* the same as a human grinning. Zeet was admonishing the human, not sharing in a joke.

“Once was enough. If we capitalise on your speed, you will be light, but weak; you will not survive errant hits! Anything above superficial damage could disable your points or even your whole rig if it’s a bad hit!” The geckin hissed.

“I was showboating.” Admitted Casper. “I let my guard down. My fault. I won’t jeopardise your work again.” The human spoke seriously and with respect at the older engineer who squinted at him as the walking platform approached a door that slid aside without hesitation. The geckin waved a hand, dismissing the thought, seemingly satisfied with Casper’s devoted tone.

The group entered a room that was quite obviously Zeet’s workshop. Ignoring that it looked down on a hanger bay with a skeleton of a rig hanging in the centre, as Casper looked around the room, he learnt of Zeet’s personality. Messy, but devoted.

Mech and rig designs covered an entire wall which was dominated as a workboard. Pens, stylises and measuring tools were scattered everywhere. A large 3D printer squatted in one corner and was covered in tiny, intricate models of various shapes and sizes. Some were of arms and legs of disembodied mechs, and others were tiny replicas of the whole thing.

“Huh… I think you’d get along with some of us humans.” Casper mentioned, crouching to observe the intricate details of one particular model. It was beautifully designed all the way down to sleek lines showing where the various bolts would connect armour plates together.

“After yourself, I would very much like to meet more humans. I suspect if I could get my claws into one that had a history in mech design, fictional or not, we might share ideas…” Zeet offered before clapping his hands and holding them out in front of him, pointing his claws at Casper, drawing attention to himself.

“*But!* We need to design you a machine that will put us both in the history books and… *Not* leave you at the hands of the XixTech corpo-nation.” Declared Zeet, Casper nodding along until his brain caught up to the sentence.

“Wait… ‘Corpo-Nation’?” He asked, standing up again.

“Mm, they represent the eastern continental landmass on Bok. Our homeworld. They are their government representatives.” Explained Zeet matter-of-factly. Casper merely blinked, once again reminded this was not kansas.

“Jesus… Yeah, let's not get dropped into that mess.” The young man agreed, already feeling his head spin. Qik settled herself, leaning against a wall, arms crossed as was her usual stance. Casper sat against the window frame with his back to the hanger below.

“So!” Zeet began. “Torso, Head, Arms, Legs and a Spinal mount. These are your rig’s modifiable options.” Zeet explained, turning to open a large cabinet where he produced three glasses. One tiny, the other two perfectly sized for Casper and Qik. The human glanced at the bottle of dark liquid, then to Qik who touched a long finger against her lips. She didn’t want him to ruin this.

Zeet poured three healthy portions before taking a sip and giving a satisfied sigh, then continuing.

“I already know what I’m doing for your chest, you don’t get a vote there.” He explained, swiping his hand through the air. Qik cleared her throat as she leaned in to pick up a spare glass.

“What’s your idea?” She asked calmly, seemingly trusting his good sense.

“Maximum output. Heavier as an option, more so than an ultralight, but I think the way he modifies his output, it’ll be worth it.” Zeet explained, swirling the glass.

“I modify my output? What do you mean?” Casper asked, frowning somewhat. This apparently was an odd question.

“Wha- My boy… You… It’s not a conscious decision? To pulse your power generation?” Zeet asked, seemingly very confused. Casper pulled a face and shrugged before reaching over and picking up the third and final glass. Taking a sip, it was like paint stripper with a smokey burn afterwards.

“Your power generation is not efficient, or it shouldn’t be! Your reactors ‘pulse’ instead of giving out a steady or constant amount. We thought it was a fault at first until the second and third time it happened. Every rig you hop in, it pulses.” Zeet explained shrugging his arms in defeated confusion, nearly, but not quite spilling his drink.

“Is it dangerous?” Qik asked, narrowing her eyes, but sipping at her own glass, it looked comically small in her hands. Zeet shook his head, sipping at his drink, a tiny red tongue dabbing at the murky liquid.

“I don’t think so, although it was far, far faster when you took that hit.” The geckin conceded, pointing a finger over the rim of his glass.

“Was it like a heartbeat?” Asked Casper, following a hunch. Zeet shook his head again, the corners of his mouth pulling up as if Casper had asked the same question as him.

“No. We thought so too, but it was too slow.” The geckin dismissed, looking into his glass with a contemplative frown. Unconvinced, Casper waited a second, considering what it could have been before getting an idea. Without speaking, Casper knocked his knuckles against the wall he was leaning on. Thump thump. Pause. Thump thump. Pause. The reaction was immediate, the engineer's feet jumping up in unison and briefly leaving the walking platform he stood upon as he pointed and did briefly spill his drink this time. .

“Yes! That! That’s it! Two pulses and a pause. We racked our brains trying to figure that out!”

Casper merely smiled knowingly, closing his eyes and opening them again before speaking, pleased to have an answer for the older geckin.

“That’s *my* heartbeat Zeet.” Tapping his chest with his glass. ”Bigger heart, slower rhythm.” The young man explained. The tiny geckin stood there, motionless for a time. Before closing his eyes and placing his own drink down on the table.

“Your heartbeat. *Your*! Heartbeat. Argh! Rocks in my brain! Terminal rocks!” Zeet exclaimed, causing both Casper and Qik to grin as an apparent mystery was solved for him. The poor geek looked genuinely annoyed as he glared at the ceiling.

“So it’s not an issue?” Asked Qik.

“Huh! Hardly. It means he doesn’t run hot, but has access to power when he needs it. Works well with the rest of my plans.”

“Go on, you’ve ideas, I’m listening.” Casper said, grimacing as he slugged another mouthful of the drink down. It seemed to burn less with the third gulp.

“Chest we go for power. Your spine mount, I suggest an advanced booster. It does mean you’re more vulnerable. One hit to your back and you’ve lost your main defence; not being where they fired at.” The geckin suggested, shrugging with the admission.

“I mean if we’re engaging at range, I can move out of the way of the rounds, right?” Casper offered, looking to Qik for confirmation. She pulled a face and shook her head, her ears flopping with the movement.

“Two problems with that; unreliable reactions and no one uses slug rounds anymore.” She explained. Casper frowned, specifically remembering a fairly solid round tearing through his chest not less than 24 hours ago.

“What do you mean? The geckins do?” He pointed out, rudely pointing at Zeet who could care less as he tilted his head back, finishing off his own glass. He spoke next, pulling Casper’s attention.

“We’re an exception, not a rule. The ursidains also use solid projectiles, but only when they’re firing a heavy hitter. Energy weapons are the name of the game these days. Most see solid projectiles as ‘old’, in the sense of ‘museum piece’ old.” Zeet offered honestly.

Casper thought that was strange, solid projectiles were reliable, but this wasn’t his world. This was a galaxy in a vastly different period of their history than Earth was. He shook his head to clear his mind.

“Okay fine, keep mobile. What about arms and legs? What about weapons?” He pressed, almost looking forward to hearing what toys Zeet was offering.

“Legs wise, again, I’d go for speed. Extra vents for additional jet exhausts. Rather than running, you’ll end up ‘skating’ around the enemy. Good luck keeping up with you. You’ll need it too.” Zeet offered.

“Are the enemies quick?” Casper asked.

“Fairly. Spider-Technicals.” Qik responded.

“What are they?”

“Heavy armour, focused laser beam for their main cannon. Prolonged targeting will thermal shock the armour that gets hit, burrowing through whatever it's shooting at. The tanks are mobile, capable of keeping line of sight on their target and climbing up and around buildings to do so. The intention is to have a small army of them and they just overwhelm any target that approaches.” The lopel explained, polishing off her own glass and gesturing with her hands, as if she were spreading a model army out in front of her.

“So keep circling them?” Casper suggested.

“And they’ll have to track you. We keep you light and mobile, they focus on you…” Qik went on, trailing off to allow Casper to finish the thought.

“...And you take them out while their back is turned.” The young man concluded, nodding at the idea. He could be bait, he didn’t even have to fight. Just wave his arms in the air and keep their attention.

“He’s a fast learner.” Zeet pointed out, nodding to Casper but looking to Qik. She merely grinned and returned to her ‘arms crossed’ posture, smugness radiating off her.

“Thanks to his teacher.”

Zeet was less than sure.

“Mm. Sure.” He blinked slowly and turned his head back to the huma before opening them again. “Arms wise, we have options.“

“I did consider a plasma thrower, but it's heavy and drains a lot of power during charge up. Good against another mech, less so for tanks. We have similar options like sniper beams, but same thing. Line of sight and you’d need to be still.”

“So what would you suggest?”

“If we are going with this plan, we should actually keep you lightly armed. How do you feel about a solid sword?”

“Solid? But what about my lightsaber!”

“No, too draining. If we’re keeping you as fast as we intend, we need you using 100% of your reactor’s output. A solid sword, atomised edge, you’ll still be dangerous. Lightweight metal, no drain on your resources, there's no downsides besides no range. But that's not an issue this time.”

“Atomised edge?” Casper asked, just checking for clarification. Zeet nodded and hastened to explain before moving on.

“An edge a few atoms thick. Blunts faster, but realistically, this is a blitz, you’re not going to be out there long enough to need to worry about that.”

“What could I cut through?”

“Anything with enough force behind your swing. Do *not* touch the edge with any part of yourself.” The geckin demanded with a serious tone and an accusing finger. Casper held his hands up in mock surrender.

“Yes sir.”

Zeet merely nodded. Qik remained quietly thinking as she scratched her own chin.

“So, speed, speed, speed?” Casper summarised.

“Quite so. Qik, I trust you will just select your weapons as normal?” Zeet asked, turning to the lopel as he sat himself in a chair. The merc merely nodded and lay her palm up as if presenting her idea.

“I’m going for a swarm missile rig. If it’s just technicals, I don’t need anything else.” She explained with a carless shrug.

“Swarm missile?” Casper prodded.

“Line of sight lock on, you fire the swarm and they fire up into the air before raining down on the tanks. Doesn’t matter if they’re crawling on or around buildings. They’ll punch through their armour. The downside is I need to see them to lock on, which sucks when LOS works both ways.” Qik went on, but then leaned forward to emphasize her words. .

“Buuut…” She drawled.

“But if they’re looking at me, that doesn’t matter.” Casper replied, grinning back at the lopel. She held his gaze a moment longer than needed before straightening and giving him her approval.

“Attaboy.”

Casper considered his options, and turned back to Zeet.

“So a sword? Nothing else?” He asked.

Zeet, his hands on his head, turned the chair to face the larger human.

“Did you have something else in mind?”

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #human #cuddleverse #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #rabbit #lopeljack

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delimeful · 1 year

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to know that song (and all its words) (7)

warnings: injury, misunderstandings/assumptions, threat of murder, implied violence, cliffhanger

By the time trouble caught up to them, things had settled into a strange equilibrium on Virgil’s ship.

The sense of something close to casual co-existence with three Deathworlders was about the last thing he would have ever expected, but it was undeniably present.

He knew they were dangerous, knew that he was a danger to their secrecy and thus his life had an expiration date, knew that even the friendlier members of the trio were capable of surviving things Virgil could hardly imagine.

Even so, it was hard to keep that knowledge pulled around him like a shield when the three of them treated him more like a crewmate than a hostage.

Having access to food and hygiene facilities had done wonders for the Humans, the tension knotted up in every line of their bodies fading more and more until they hardly resembled the (weary-harsh-terrified) fugitives that had originally stolen onto his ship.

Virgil had thought he’d resent the very idea of invaders being on his ship long enough to grow comfortable, but the reality was that some strange tightness in his lungs eased when he saw the Humans indulging in things other than that single-minded focus on surviving future threats.

Noisy would chatter to himself while messing with the material printer’s settings until he got exactly what he was looking for, and while he mostly printed items for utility, like specific styles of dishware and what Virgil suspected were the Human version of first-aid materials, he would also occasionally spend ages fiddling with the tiniest details until he had created a design for a small, intricate sculpture. They didn’t have any practical use, but going by the (fond-happy-treasured) reactions when he presented them to the others, they were a form of expression.

He would put hours of work into each carefully crafted art piece, his face scrunched up with the force of his (concentration-effort-patience) focus.

Heartfelt could occasionally be found sprawled out on the floor of the bio room, face turned upwards to face the light as though they were just as sustained by it as the rest of the plant life. They often dragged Noisy or Square in to lay down with them, but the first time Virgil had witnessed it, they’d been on their own and he’d assumed the worst: that they’d fallen and hurt themself, or fallen victim to one of the many toxic specimens in the room. He had worked himself into a panic that took them an embarrassingly long time to soothe, and immediately set about labeling the plants by level of danger.

Now, passing the bio room, it had become a habit to glance over and check for a Deathworlder stretched out amidst the leaves and UV lights, acting more plant than person.

Even Square had been coaxed from their standard position hunched over a display or graph in the nav room, their attention tangibly catching the moment Noisy and Heartfelt showed them the lab. They curiously inspected every inch of the space, poking through the instruments with varying levels of recognition and surveying the chemical and organic compounds in the storage cabinets with a bright glint in their eyes.

Virgil offered explanations the best he could, but the language barrier didn’t discourage them; if anything, they seemed almost delighted about the prospect of puzzling out the purpose or composition of each individual component.

Somehow, it was… nice.

The company was far different from what he was used to, and his instincts were still constantly set off by Deathworlder body language, but the trio was such a departure from what he’d initially expected from their infamous species that he’d found himself drawn into their orbit.

It didn’t help that the more Common they picked up, the more they spoke to him just for the sake of conversation, friendly and curious about nearly everything they saw.

It didn’t help that he’d taken to sleeping in their makeshift den room most shifts, far away enough that he felt the illusion of security, but more than close enough to see the way they spoke softly to each other and curled up together in sleep like fledglings.

It didn’t help that while Square was still stringent about guarding the nav room, Noisy and Heartfelt had, by all appearances, outright forgotten that Virgil was a hostage who needed to be closely supervised at all times.

He’d returned to his usual habit of wandering the ship’s halls when he couldn’t sleep, and even though it was technically a violation of one of their rules, Square had let the unsupervised pacing go uncommented on, apparently seeing the wisdom in Virgil’s decision to leave the other two’s rest undisturbed.

It was during one of these insomniac sessions that the ship was boarded.

The pirate vessel must have been cloaked, because its approach went entirely unnoticed by the autopilot sensors. If it weren’t for the very subtle vibrations it sent through the walls of his ship as it locked on to the side of it, Virgil may not have noticed the intrusion at all.

As it was, it took him far too long to understand exactly what kind of trouble he had waded into this time.

Raiders didn’t typically risk direct boarding other vessels in open space unless they were hugely profitable, often preferring to prey on those who stopped at fueling bays or cargo loading areas. Less risk of a hull breach or other catastrophic failure taking out their victims and them, that way. Virgil’s undersized little repurposed research vessel was hardly an ideal target, much less worth that much risk.

Half-convinced he’d imagined the tremors, he’d headed down the main hall to run a security check, and reached the loading bay just in time for his gaze to catch on the handle of one of the emergency jettison exit hatches, and watch it twist and yank open.

The moment he realized what was happening, he’d tried to bolt.

Unfortunately, these raiders seemed to be well-practiced in their profession, because the first thing to pass the mouth of the hatch was the muzzle of a paralyzer, and Virgil’s sprint towards the door turned into a painful collision with the ground, every muscle locked up in pain.

He lost a bit of time– Ampen were well known as one of the smallest spacefaring species, and paralyzers weren’t anything close to gentle even on the largest– and by the time he’d blinked his way back into the realm of mostly-conscious, the raid on his ship was already underway.

There were a few aliens still in the loading bay, mostly prying open cargo boxes and guarding their entrance, but most of them had delved further into the ship to search with the methodical viciousness raiders were known for. Even from here, Virgil could hear the distant crashing of things being destroyed as his home was upturned and sifted through for valuables.

It was hard to care about that, though, when he could feel the aethers of the closest raiders, and knew exactly how much (glee-want-satisfaction) greed they were saturated with.

The feelings were far too strong to be about the simple rewards pillaging a small cargo vessel would offer.

Someway, somehow, they had learned about the Humans onboard. That was their true target.

Virgil’s limbs were still mostly-numb, entirely useless to him. Panic hovered over him like a wave about to crash, only held at bay by his impotent fury at both the raiders and himself.

He couldn’t believe he’d darted for an exit so mindlessly, so predictably. He should have tried for the control panel instead, should have locked the loading bay doors and cut off the intrusion at its source, should have sought out Square the moment he had felt that first mild tremor.

Stars, Square was the only one even awake when he’d started his pacing. Virgil imagined Noisy and Heartfelt waking up at weaponpoint and was filled with hollow misery.

Deathworlders were powerful, sure, but unexpected ambushes could take down even the most dangerous opponents.

And his Humans had lost their hunted look. They’d found security in Virgil’s ship, and he dreaded watching them get caught because of it, that sense of safety stripped away.

When the raiders began trickling back in through the doorway, however, it was with empty hands and mutinous expressions. The room began to fill with (frustration-apprehension-irritation) tension thick enough that it almost overshadowed Virgil’s own stunned disbelief.

His ship was not large by any stretch of the word. All the escape pods were present and only accessible through the loading bay. Most importantly, three entire Humans were hard to miss, how had they simply… vanished?

The leader of the raiders seemed to be thinking along the same lines. He turned to Virgil with a displeased air about him, a twitch of his head directing one of his nearby underlings to hoist Virgil into the air by the scruff so that they were at eye level.

His body barely spasmed at his mental command to struggle, but his feathers fluffed out without conscious control, an automatic defense that was entirely useless at the moment. “Let… go, you… shithead,” he managed to wheeze out, his Common saturated with the whistling pitch of his home tongue.

The leader made a derisive-sounding chk-chk-chk in the back of his throat, stepping closer. “With an attitude like that, I’m even more surprised they kept you alive this long.”

“My ship,” Virgil said, straining to get his limbs to respond.

“Only as long as you’re the strongest one on it,” the leader replied, like classic raider scum. “You know what we want to know. I can’t imagine you’ve had a very pleasant stay here with those creatures.”

The only reason Virgil didn’t bristle more visibly was because his body wouldn’t let him. “Don’t know. What you’re talking about.”

“Come on, even a scrapped-together pile of junk like this has heat sensors, doesn’t it? Just give me admin access to the system, and we’ll be on our way.” The leader paused, and then leaned in a little closer, his voice coaxing but a silent threat in every motion. “This is an excellent opportunity for you, you know. We’ll leave you unharmed, with your ship securely back into your possession, free of any and all bloodthirsty intruders! All we need is a short moment of your cooperation.”

This close, all Virgil could sense was his aether. There wasn’t a single trace of trickery in it; his promise was genuine.

The offer was generous, considering who it was coming from. It was the smart choice to make, considering that Virgil had anticipated from the start that he would be a loose end to tie up the moment the Humans decided to leave his ship.

If he agreed, he could be saving his own life.

In exchange, he’d be sentencing his captors to be forced into working for– killing for raiders, locked into service against their will. And that was at best. At worst… they’d be subjected to the kind of black market horrors he’d only heard stories about.

Virgil tucked his chin down, a habit borrowed from Crav’n body language and a fairly common indicator of stubbornness in this quadrant. He made direct eye contact, intentional rudeness to compliment his next words. “I don’t… give starscourge pirates shit. Nobody on this ship… ‘cept me, anyhow.”

A ripple of mocking jeers spread through the gang surrounding him, and the leader shook his head with faux-pity. “Looks like we’ve got a liar on our hands. You think we just picked your ship randomly out of the ink, little guy? We’ve been tracking you for weeks. Ever since we checked the sec-cam footage from a conveniently-located fueling station and saw some very interesting stowaways slipping aboard this very vessel.”

Virgil’s antennae flattened back against his head, panic seeping in.

The leader whistled in a pathetic mockery of a soothing Ampen call. “Now, don’t get upset. You had to know someone would figure it out eventually, I mean, look at all this cargo. A bit strange that you abandoned all your latest deliveries with no warning, isn’t it? Unless you had something more valuable on board.”

He hadn’t been thinking about it. First, he’d been too grimly certain of his own death to worry about things like failed delivery fees, and then he’d assumed that wherever Square was headed, he was competent enough to keep suspicion off them.

“No more stalling.” A prompting shake jarred him from his growing desperation. “Admin access, birdy. Now.”

Virgil hissed lowly, jerking his head in the closest gesture he could get to a negative, and the leader’s impatience twisted abruptly into fury.

“Useless.” The hand holding Virgil up vanished without warning, the metal floor rising up to meet him. He reflexively tried to catch himself, but his arm barely jerked in response to his brain’s screaming signal, and when he landed, something gave way with a sickening snap.

He couldn’t have helped the high-pitched shriek of pain if he’d tried, and though the leader kept talking, he hardly caught any of the words.

He did catch the sound of the loading bay doors sliding open once more.

Surprise-excitement-fear jolted through the raiders, so overpowering Virgil was startled he hadn’t blacked out already.

“Well, if it isn’t exactly the beasts we’ve been looking for,” the leader said, and a frisson of worry-fear-desperation slid through Virgil before being overwhelmed by the pain and the aether once more. He tried to say something, a warning for– for someone important, but the words wouldn’t come, only a high, thin whistle to accompany each painful exhale.

“You hurt him,” someone said. The voice sounded like Heartfelt, but it couldn’t be them. They’d never spoken with such a flat numbness to their words.

“My crew is one of the most feared in the entire quadrant,” the leader replied, his pride blooming like one of Janus’s deadlier flowers. “Those who defy us don’t live long to tell the tale.”

“Similar things have been said about us,” a cool voice responded. That was Square, wasn’t it? “And yet, you still boarded our vessel.”

“This can hardly be called a proper ship for creatures as powerful as you,” the leader said, radiating enough amusement to soothe his crew’s unease. “Bigger and better accommodations is the least I’ll be able to offer you as your new employer.”

There were large steps, slow and unobtrusive, making their way towards where he lay.

That seemed important, but his attention slipped away anyhow. His mind felt thick and cloudy with aether overexposure, each thought made distant and disconnected by the pain.

“Employer,” Square echoed. “This is your idea of a job offer.”

Their voice was different, too. Icy and carefully-controlled, the way it had been back when they’d first boarded his ship. Virgil felt his feathers– why were they so extended– ruffle in quiet apprehension.

Why were they mad? Had he broken a rule?

“You’re lucky,” the leader was saying, “most crews would see you as mindless beasts, and try to put you down for parts or sell you as entertainment. I’m on the sharper side of the blade: if you’re clever enough to speak, you have enough of a mind to take orders.”

They were being hired? Oh. That was why Square sounded like that.

They were leaving, so they had to get rid of Virgil.

Those steps, again, accompanied by a shadow falling over him. The crowd around him shrank away, taking their amalgamation of rough-edged (fear-anticipation-eagerness) aether with them.

In comparison, Heartfelt’s (desolate-tender-resolved) familiar presence felt like a down-fluff blanket against his mind, and he relaxed slightly despite himself. He tried to greeting-chirp at them, and the noise came out strangely.

“We’ll have to get rid of that one,” the leader said. “He’s a stubborn thing, and not the sort of witness that’ll play witless when questioned about raiders. We wouldn’t want the authorities to come sniffing around and find someone like him, would we?”

There was the barest tremor in Heartfelt’s hands as they delicately wrapped around his sides, lifting him slowly into a hold that could almost be called a cradle. They were careful to avoid jostling his arm, their eyes growing alarmingly wet at the sight of the snapped bone.

No matter how hard he tried, Virgil couldn’t hold onto his fear. He was too relieved, the specifics of why he’d been worried in the first place escaping him. The Humans weren’t in danger, after all. They needed Virgil gone, but Heartfelt was gentle, and they would be quick about it.

He could see Square, now, as Heartfelt returned to their side. Their body was rigid with tension, but they weren’t looking at him. Virgil’s antennae flattened back in consternation. There was something strange about seeing the both of them side by side.

“Thank you for your time,” Square said. “Unfortunately, we will not be accepting the offered position at this time.”

Their voice was low and measured. Next to them, Heartfelt was entirely silent, their eyes scrunched firmly shut. Something about the quiet…

“What–,” the leader spluttered, only to be cut off by Square whistling, three short but piercing bursts of sound.

Where was Noisy?

In the next heartsbeat, everyone was plunged into an all-encompassing darkness, as though someone had flipped every light breaker switch on the mainframe all at once. The hum of the ship’s electrical grid cut off, leaving a short stretch of dead silence.

Humans could still move fairly well in the dark, Virgil remembered idly. Even better with a warning.

His consciousness finally dropped away as the first screams started.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #humans are deathworlders #tktsaaiw #to know that song and all its words #ampen virgil #ts virgil #ts logan #ts patton #ts roman #my writing #writing #reverse wibar

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writingpei · 1 year

Text

lee know | 리노: fake relationship

tw: graphic descriptions of being stalked, physical abuse and trauma response

your job was driving you absolutely nuts.

it was tiring, consuming, far away and paid the absolute necessary for the rent of the small apartment you lived. taking several subways and walking a few blocks to reach the comfort of your home was not at all satisfying, the only thing that encouraged you to continue every day was the envelope stuffed with money that arrived at the end of each month and made it possible for you to survive in the big city.

life at the office had always been unpleasant, but now everything was stranger, a tense atmosphere hovering over your head that became more and more present. you felt like someone was watching you from afar, yet when your eyes ran across the room in search of the culprint, it was always a dead end, seeing nothing but the usual, but the feeling hammering in your head incessantly even so. maybe you really were going crazy.

this feeling lasted for weeks, until one fateful day. you were getting coffee from the pot for your boss, when innervation creeped through your body as it had many times before, a chill that crept up slowly like a snake up your neck. the only difference is that this time you caught him.

a tall young man wearing a well-seated suit stared at you from behind a wall, eyes glazed, searing your flesh. the shiver ran all over your body and the hand pouring the coffee into the "#1 boss" mug shook, spilling the hot liquid onto your hand. this caught the attention of the man, who walked quickly but calculatedly towards you, throwing an apologetic smile that crept across his face as if he didn't know how to smile and was copying someone he had seen do it.

"is everything okay? was it too hot?" he asked, and you took a step back on instinct.

"um... yes it is. it was just an accident" you answer quietly, still not daring to take your eyes off him, ready for the next reaction he might have. there was something really weird about this guy, but you couldn't put your finger on what it was.

"one second" he asks, but you just wanted to disappear from there. every second dragged by like hours and you were already scared enough. he reaches into his blazer pocket and pulls out an elegant white cloth that has probably never been worn before.

"here, clean yourself up" he held out the cloth and you just looked at him hesitantly. "take it" he says, losing the smile on his face and his voice becoming more commanding, his gaze darkening.

this time you catch it quickly hoping he'll leave you alone as soon as he does, but you were completely wrong. after drying off and running to your boss's office, hoping you'd never have to meet him again, you were just choosing to believe a comfortable outcome. what happened, unfortunately for you, was the opposite.

resigning was almost like a death sentence, you wouldn't manage to get a decent job in a long time and you wouldn't be able to pay your bills. at that moment, you just didn't know which was worse, to go or to stay. the only fear that compared with what you felt for him was the fear of reporting him to the company. he had technically never done anything to you and getting scrutinized and fired for misconduct in the workspace would forever tarnish your resume.

now it was impossible for you not to notice him everywhere, lifeless eyes traveling through the rooms always looking for you, the icy sensation that lurked through your soul every time you were in the same environment as him. you avoided him whenever you could, you only dare to leave your desk when he went to the bathroom, or when you needed to go to your boss's office you ran before he had the chance to get up and chase after you.

the tension just built over time and he took your evasion strategies with some humor, as if it were a game and you were playing hard to get. because of that, one day when you were asked to print some papers in the company's printer room, you knew you were fucked. it was in a very secluded place at the end of a corridor and was rarely frequented. your fake smile fell off your face dramatically when your boss gave you the order, but you just sucked it in and grabbed the pendrive he held out to you. maybe if you were discreet enough you could go unnoticed, but it was too optimistic a thought for the situation. the guy was a creep and was on your tail, he would be alert as soon as he noticed your empty table in the middle of so many others.

you made your way very cautiously, however much your hands were shaking and your breathing was uneven. the endless hallway was clear and you took long strides until you reached the little door at the end of it. if you were fast enough he might not even notice it in time.

you set to print the pages, looking around incessantly as if he would magically appear out of thin air. "hurry up, please" you whispered to the printer, praying that it would be quick.

you thought you were going to die when it made a choking noise out of nowhere, and then a second later it stopped printing one of the sheets in the middle. "no" you blurted out in desperation, slapping the machine in hopes of getting it working again, but it was still stuck. "no, don't go stuck on me" your hands were shaking more than ever, and in the middle of your heavy breathing, footsteps reached your ear.

"finally a chance to talk to you" and your spine froze. you could hear the creepy fake smile in his voice and his slow, hard steps coming towards you.

"the printer broke, I need to tell someone to fix it" you say and try to circle him to leave the room but he is impassive and stands in front of you, towering over. the proximity terrifies you and you're sure you'll have nightmares about the face he gives you. you take a quick step back in an attempt to put some distance between the two of you and he takes advantage of the act, taking one in your direction for each one you take to move away.

"no" he says coldly, losing the good guy posture he tries so hard to display. "now you're going to talk to me, you've run away from me too much" you wanted to throw up. "when are you going to go out with me?"

when he says that, a different smile blooms on his face, and you're sure it's his natural one, because it's brutal and terrifying.

"i can't" you manage to get out somehow.

"and now, why couldn't you?" he just smiles wider and shows his teeth more. "you will go out with me"

he takes another step towards you, and you don't know if it's just your head making you hallucinate or if it's the universe working in your favor, but you can see someone entering the room behind his shoulder.

a man with dark hair and white shirt sleeves with sleeves enters the scene, a folder full of papers catching the attention of his eyes and he takes a few seconds to look forward and see the situation that displays itself.

when he does, his eyes are intense and travel from the creep to you slowly, trying to read the room.

you waste no time running to him and hiding behind his arm, relieving yourself slightly by the distance created and the presence of another individual in the room. "i can't go out with you because i'm dating him" you lie, but your desperation makes your voice sound believable, and to add to that, you shyly hold the unknown man's arm with both hands. he's reluctant and looks at you in shock quickly, but something in his eyes makes it look like he understands what's going on and his muscle relaxes under your touch.

"bullshit, you don't date this guy" the creep seems to lose his cool with your attitude, nostrils flaring and eyes widening hideously.

"how do you know?" the man beside you asked in a completely calm voice, and it was your turn to be surprised.

your savior speaking directly to the creep only seemed to make him even more enraged, and the horrible eyes were glued to yours again.

"i've never seen you two talk, stop lying" he says.

"i..." you start to speak but your words are forced out of your mouth and your hands start to shake against the stranger's skin. "i..."

"i like to keep things professional in the work environment, so we don't interact here" he answers for you, tranquility intact. the creep was still fuming, terrifying eyes growing wider. he walks towards you aggressively, steps no longer calculated and silent, full of hate and nerve. when he gets close enough to hurt you, you close your eyes expecting the worst, but only feel your body being pushed slightly.

when you open your eyes you are facing the back of the unknown man's neck, who placed himself between you and the creep, and the protection of your field of vision that he provides preventing you from seeing the other man brings a coolness to your body.

"hey, hey, what are you doing man?" he says to the man you can't see. "get out of here before I call security, are you insane?"

now the stranger seems to have lost some of his temper too, and after a few seconds of silence, you hear quick footsteps leave the room and walk down the hall into complete silence.

you fail to let go of the man's arm at first, taking time to regain a controlled breath. when the oddly gentle feel of your skin against his is lost and you step back and lean against the wall to maintain the balance that your feet alone cannot give you he turns towards you, eyes still intense and calm.

"has this ever happened?" he asks but you're still recovering, eyes scanning his face warily, traveling from the bridge of his nose to his pale cheeks.

"what is your name?" you ask out of nowhere.

"minho. has this happened before or is this the first time?" he asks once more, not backing down.

"well minho, you just saved my life" you say. "it's not the first time, my life has been hell for weeks"

pushing yourself away from the wall, you take short steps to the damn printer, tearing off the half-printed paper, crumpling it up and throwing it away.

"you never reported him?" he asks behind your back and you just give a humorless laugh.

he seems to understand what your sarcasm means, and just walks closer as you try one more time to print your boss's stuff.

the printer gets stuck again and the strange noises start once more. even being watched by minho, you don't feel even an ounce of the fear you felt in the creep's presence.

"fucking hell" you whisper frustratedly seeing your work fail once more, and your trembling hands cover your eyes. it feels like the weight of what happened finally catches up with you and your eyes start to get wet behind your palms.

"hey, he is already gone, it's okay" minho says reluctantly in an attempt to comfort you, but the tears won't stop, and soon you're sobbing. at no time does he leave you alone, the low but constantly present sound of his breathing gives you security.

"listen..." minho speaks softly and his hand touches your shoulder with the weight of a feather, as if you would break easily with a slightly rougher touch. after a few seconds you take your hands off your face, wiping the tears in the process and looking at him with glossy eyes. "what do you think about going home for now? i'll talk to the boss, i'll tell you that you felt sick and had to go home" he suggests, his voice velvety and sweet as if he were talking to a crying child.

the idea of going home was too enticing, even more so the possibility of hiding under the safety of your blankets. however "i don't want him to follow me home" you say, real fear clouding your voice.

"don't worry about it" he says genuinely, hand still on your shoulder. "he won't leave the office. not with me here"

"really?" you ask, hope rising in you.

"really" he confirms. you walk side by side to your desk, where you collect all your belongings. the creep’s gaze burns your skin, and you're terrified now that you've made him angry. if before you were scared of him without having done anything to put you on his bad side, now things were much more serious.

minho takes you to the building’s entrance and you feel safe enough.

"minho" you call him when he is already going back inside the building. "thank you so much for what you did for me today, you really saved my life" you say in genuine gratitude.

he looks into your eyes for a few seconds, and a small gentle smile appears on his face. how could you never have noticed him before in the sea of white desks and dreary work light? "no need to thank me"

going back to work the next day was the source of all your despair. you were right, you had a nightmare about the ugly, scary face of the man who was always in your tracks, keeping an eye out for you, making you wake up with sweat running down your neck in fear. you were lucky that minho interfered in the situation, but perhaps that luck has run out and you have no way to escape.

the subway ride to the company building progressively made your hands shake more and more, and as you rode the elevator up to your floor you were already feeling dizzy.

however, what surprises you is that the lady who sat at the table next to yours and spent all day playing card games on the computer was no longer there, and in her place, minho sat comfortably as if that spot had always been his.

"minho?" you asked confused standing in front of him.

"oh hey" his attention is shifted to you, eyes kind and cool. "I asked to change desk. I needed to change up a little bit" he says and you sit at your own table.

now it was minho who wouldn't let go of you. whenever you went to lunch he would come along and sit next to you at your table. when you had to get coffee for your boss he always followed in your footsteps with the excuse of needing to stretch his legs a little.

being close with him, even if suddenly and under less than ideal circumstances, made your life at work bearable. you still felt the man's presence across the room, you still felt the sting of his hateful gaze on your skin, but now with minho's presence you felt constant security.

before long he was dropping you off too, walking you on the subway and walking hip to hip with you through blocks until you were safe and sound on your doorstep, telling you about sooni, doongi and dori along the way.

the nightmares have not ceased, quite the contrary, they have become more and more present as if your brain were playing a mean trick on you, abusing your limits. none, however, had been as bad as this one.

you wake up exasperated, sweat making your skin sticky. your chest rises and falls incessantly in ragged breathing. you count to 10 hoping to calm down but you can't. no light you turn on in the small apartment reassures you. it's 2 am and you don't want to disturb minho and wake him up, but your body aches for the comfort and security he provides, the tranquility of the beautiful voice that comes from his rosy lips. you don’t think you'll ever feel calm again without his presence, and it's driving you crazy.

in an act of pure selfishness, you open the messaging app and your fingers flick across your phone's keyboard fast.

you:

minho, are you up?

and so you wait, looking hopefully at the stalled chat, praying that he responds, that he gives you the relief of his presence, the joy of his attention. just as you start to lose hope that he's going to respond, a chat bubble appears in your view, and you can't ignore the way your heart races against your chest.

minho:

now i am

everything good?

you:

i had a bad nightmare

it's stupid, sorry to disturb you

i'll buy you the next lunch to make up for it

a minute goes by, then two, and you start to get scared that he's upset with you. you're regretting doing it in the first place in a spiral of overthinking when your phone starts ringing in your hand. minho is calling you, and you hesitate a little before answering. maybe he would scold you for your selfishness, waking him up late at night for something so silly.

"don't think about it" when you accept the phone call, the only thing that reaches your ears is his groggy voice, tainted with sleep. "don't think about the nightmare, everything’s alright, i’m here with you"

and then you can breathe again.

you no longer think about the nightmare, now your mind is intoxicated by his presence, which fills your head so intensely that it leaves no room for anything else. that's why you blurt out "talk to me, minho" after seconds of comfortable silence.

"what do you want me to talk about?" he asks softly.

"anything. let me hear you, please" you ask softly, cheeks reddening, ashamed of your own attitude.

"doongi slept on top of the fridge today" he starts to tell, giggling softly. "i was looking all over the house for an hour for him, i was going crazy thinking he got out somehow and got lost in the street, but the little bastard was just taking a nap up there. i don't even know how he managed to get there"

you laugh at the story but mostly at his dazed voice, the intimacy of the whispers in the middle of the night bringing a rush of heat through your body.

"now you speak" he asked, voice low but gentle, always careful with you.

"i have nothing to say" you admit, the only thing on your mind right now was him, and it would be weird for you to say out loud how much you'd like to be consumed by his velvet voice and perfume with a hint of vanilla that he wore over his dress shirt every day.

"what time is it now?" he asks.

"2:36 am"

"what color pajamas are you wearing?"

"gray"

"do you prefer strawberry or peaches?"

"peaches. why are you asking me so many things?" it's your turn to question, genuinely confused.

"i want to hear your voice too" he replies like it's obvious and you're grateful you're not face to face with him, because your mouth opens in surprise and your cheeks heat up in seconds.

"that was smooth, minho" you whisper humorously after a few seconds of silence, recovering from what he said.

"i know" he laughs softly. "is it working?"

and the shy, silent voices stretch out into the night, the stars dripping from the sky until the two of you fall asleep in each other's presence, unfinished call, synchronized breaths until the morning of the next day.

for the first time you don't feel apprehensive about going to work, instead it's an excitement that creeps up your body and overwhelms your mind. you feel like a teenager going to see your crush at school all over again.

and when he flashes a boyish smile when he sees you arriving at your table next to his, you feel your legs turning to jelly and butterflies in your stomach.

the day goes on as usual, lunch, coffee, trip together to the printer. you take any opportunity to touch him, his skin soft like you never expected anyone's skin to be. it was as if it was forbidden to have him in your hands and you would soon be expelled from the garden of eden for wanting what is not yours, but his presence, now more physical than ever, was too good to let slip through your fingers.

at some point in the day he gets more tense and you don't understand why until he turns to you out of nowhere, puts his hands on your swivel chair and turns you completely towards him. you blink a few times in confusion.

"listen" he begins, not letting go of his chair and keeping you in place. "a meeting of mine was rescheduled for tonight, a little later than your leaving time. will you wait for me here so i can take you home?"

“yeah” you respond. you would wait for him anywhere, anytime. “yeah, of course. i’ll wait here” and he smiles at you, that one smile that you like oh so much.

minho promised that it wouldn't be long, and when the time for the meeting arrives, you keep working ahead of the next day's tasks.

as time goes on you grow more and more wary, it's late and people are starting to go home, the big room emptying out fast, faster than you expected it would.

the feeling that you haven't felt for some time now began to make itself present, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. you look around and just feel a rising panic when you don't see anyone else at the tables around you, and you're terrified to look back and just see him. the one you've avoided all this time by hiding in minho's comfortable, safe shadow.

as if you were trapped in one of your nightmares, the sound of footsteps you know so well starts to sound like a flashback. this time you get up from the table and go in the opposite direction of the sound, through the labyrinth of empty tables. he starts to speed up behind you but you don't dare look back, you don't think you could stand the sight of the man once again so close to you.

your skin turns cold when you feel his hand gripping your shoulder like a claw and pushing you up an empty table, the touch full of aggression that was starkly different from the tender touch that minho had always spared you.

you instinctively lower your head to not look at him and it seems to burn something inside the man, because his calloused hand comes up to your jaw and forces you to look at him, another hand gripping your arm so hard you're sure you'll stay with bruises.

no physical pain in that moment was as unbearable as the sight of his face. he was possessed, eyes hungry and wide like a maniac. you were frightened, eyes filling with tears from the fear of what might happen. you were completely alone and it was the perfect situation for him, you were in the palm of his hand and nothing could stop that.

"please don't hurt me" you beg in a whisper, tears streaming down your eyes. his fingers just press deeper into your cheeks and he breaks into a cruel, transfigured smile.

"too late for that isn't it?" and you shake your head, sobs rising desperately in your throat. "you pissed me off!" he screams in your face and you squeeze your eyes shut. "you walk around this office practically begging me to pay attention to you, and when I do you embarrass me like that?!"

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry…" you whisper with your eyes still closed, begging him to let you go.

"now you apologize, don't you?" he says, hand going up your arm to your shoulder and shaking you hard. "i already told you, it's too late for this" you can't feel your cheeks anymore from the way he pinches them with his fingers, and you try to focus your brain on asking the universe to get minho out of the meeting, that somehow he realizes something is wrong and he comes to you. the tears don't stop flowing and you couldn't get him off you even if you wanted to. his grip is deadly on your skin.

"get your fucking hands off" the voice of the one you wanted the most makes you cry even more.

the man in front of him looks back quickly, strength in his hands diminishing in surprise. you take advantage of the seconds you have and use all the strength in your body to push him away, making him fall on the desk that was behind him the same way he did with you.

you immediately run to minho's side and up close, you can see the concern in his eyes. he holds you by the shoulders gently, creating a palpable discrepancy in how he touches you and how the man behind you has hurt you. "are you okay? your face is all red" he says, examining you closely, noting the fingerprints that smudged your face.

"i..." you started but turned back to look at the creep that was getting back on his feet. you take a step back in fear and your back collides with minho's and he steps in front of you the same way he did the first time you met.

minho however stands still, just looking from the man to you, from you to the man. after a few seconds he takes your hand and quickly pulls you towards the exit of the building at a speed so that the creep does not follow you.

"minho, where are we going?" you ask looking back constantly in fear of him just appearing out of nowhere behind you.

"my house" he answers firmly, and the path is silent. he sits next to you on the

empty wagon of the subway, hands holding your hurt arm tainted with the grip marks and wipes your tears with the tips of his fingers.

"I'm sorry" he says, sadness apparent in his voice. "I should have known, it's my fault. I'm sorry"

you approach him, touching your foreheads in confidentiality.

"I trust you" you say in a low but sincere voice. "it's not your fault, you always did your best for me. I trust you more than anyone"

minho's apartment was as small as yours, but in his there are three pairs of curious eyes that look at you suspiciously from afar while you are sitting on the minho mattress and he dips in the closet for something of his for you to use to sleep. sooni doongi and dori are as cute as they seem through his stories.

“here” he gives you a pair of clothes for you to feel more comfortable. “i’m going to be sleeping in the couch, you can sleep here” he points to his bed and quickly turns to walk away.

"um, minho" you call, feeling bad for making him sleep out of his own bed. "you can sleep here if you want, it's yours"

"oh" he opens his mouth a little but then shakes his hands in front of him dismissing himself. "the couch is comfortable, you don't have to worry, just rest" and he turns once again. tired of it, you get up and take it by the wrist lightly, turning him to you.

"minho, i want you to stay here with me. i want you to sleep by my side" you force yourself to admit. he widens his eyes slightly looking at you. the proximity between your faces is accentuated, you can feel his breath on your skin and this causes chills in your spine, your cheeks blushing by sudden sincerity.

this was arguably one of the worst days of your entire life, when the words simply come out as you plead for his presence you can't hold them back. you need him, the warmth and affection he provides, his heart of gold. only he can make you feel safe, and if you have the opportunity to drown in his arms that night you will take advantage of it. that’s why when he quietly asks “do you really want me?” you don’t hesitate in answering “more than anything”

when he lies in front of you on the mattress, you would think you were dreaming if it weren't for the pains in your skin that brought you to the real world. at first it's quiet, but his fingertips meet yours, and timidly his skins leans more and more on yours until he is holding your hand in the dark. his other hand makes a path like a snake and curls slightly around your waist, pulling you close, the heat you wanted, the intimacy that warms your heart so much. you fall asleep quickly, intoxicated by his presence, so close.

waking up the next day, you feel something hairy under the palm of your hand. strangely, you raise your head lightly and see that the place where minho was the night before is taken by three beasts, all in a deep sleep, webbed in your body.

"they like you already" you hear coming from the door. minho enters looking like he came from the street, his elegant clothes hugging his body.

“where were you?” you sit up, looking at him.

"in the company" he sits on the mattress right next to him, and his heart beats faster by the recovered contact, the heat that comes from him. "I'm friends with one of the security guys, he got me the video of what happened yesterday. i've already stopped at the police station too..." he says.

“you what?” you ask dumbfounded.

“he’s going to jail” he says and puts his hands on your cheeks. “you don’t have to worry about him anymore. he’s gone, it’s okay, i’m right here”

“minho, i…” you couldn’t take your eyes off of his even if you wanted to, those pretty eyes that pierced through your soul making you weak in the knees. “i can’t take you enough, i…”

“hey, it’s alright” he interrupts you. he breaks the eye contact and takes a glance at the way you look wearing his clothes. “now that i’m really looking at you, i really, really wish you could stay”

“stay? stay how?” you ask.

“stay with me, here. i really like seeing you first thing in the morning” he says.

your eyes travel to his lips, enjoying the warmth of his palms against your cheeks.

“i…” you begin, not being able to refrain from touching your noses, getting as close as ever. “i would really like that”

he smiles, getting even more close, lips barely touching.

“come on, give me a kiss” he whispers and you can feel the vibration in your own lips.

you waste no time in sealing your lips together, laying all your love on him.

skz as romantic tropes masterlist

#lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #skz #lee know x reader #stray kids #lee know x you #leeknow #straykids imagines #pei writes #lee know x gn reader #lee minho #i kinda hate this #hate it a lot #whatever

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