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hongthoven · 2 years

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Love me like you hate me | Hongjoong x Reader

❅ pairing : kim hongjoong (ateez) x fem reader

❅ rate : +18 | angst, smut

❅ warnings : violence, strong language, sex

❅ status : chaptered, unfinished | part 2

❅ tags&stuff : gang leader!hj, gang AU, stripper!reader, drugs, money, corruption, stripclub, violence, San as hj's right-hand man and Wooyoung as their overexcited sidekick, San is kind of a sadistic bastard, heart eyes for Woo, little bit of Woosan if you squint, graphic sex scenes incoming, joong is a rough little man with a potty mouth, bit of sweet Yunho to soothe everything down a little

❅ plot : growing up under the influence of his father's toxic masculinity, Hongjoong has been taught not to ever show any signs of weakness. As an adult and having turned into one of the most threatening gang leaders, cold hearted and untouchable, Hongjoong shows no interest in anything but collecting shivers and startled looks from the enemies - until he meets his only weakness, the girl that sends his entire world shatter into pieces.

❅ author's notes : hi there, i'm crys, english isn't my first language so pardon any mistake that may occur. I hope you'll enjoy that chaptered/hongjoong-centered fic!

❅ Ao3 : kim_hongjoong

chapter one.

Hongjoong had always hated his birthday. It’s not that he didn’t like the attention - he did, a lot- but something about it made him sad. Maybe it was the Peter Pan syndrome, the fear of growing up, getting older and becoming an adult when childhood was all fun and games. A friend from school had once told him that the older you grew, the closer you were to die, but Hongjoong had never paid much attention to his words.

Death had never seemed real to him.

He would see people getting shot in movies, see it on the news, but as long as it was behind a screen, it was never real, more like a part of the twisted imagination of a 7-year-old who loved to play cops and robbers with kids from his neighborhood.

Surely Death couldn’t be a real thing if people came back as ghosts, or zombies, right?

That was, of course, until he found himself staring at a coffin going six feet under, surrounded by friends and family as they paid their last goodbye to his beloved mother.

Up until this day, Hongjoong had no idea a parent could die. Not even when his mother had gotten so sick she just couldn’t leave her bed anymore. With the innocence of a child, Hongjoong had simply convinced himself she had some bad stomach flu and that, someday, eventually, she would walk out of her bedroom again so they could watch more zombie movies together. They both shared the same passion for horror movies and even if they gave him the worst possible nightmares, Hongjoong knew his mother wouldn’t mind cuddling him to sleep until he eventually found peace in the safety of her arms.

Looking up through his blurry vision, blinking a mix of tears and raindrops away, Hongjoong could tell his father was upset by the way his jaw seemed to tense under his skin and how tightly he was holding his hand, up to the point he was genuinely convinced he would break every single bones in his fingers if he kept squeezing his strong fist around his.

But he wasn’t crying.

When everyone around them seemed to be devastated, from his bawling aunt mourning her sister to their upstairs neighbor who tried his best but still failed to swallow up his tears, every single person surrounding the black casket as it went down into the ground looked accordingly upset, except for his father.

As far as he could remember, Hongjoong had never seen his father show any kind of emotion, let alone shed a tear and while it could’ve been a regular “dad” thing to the eyes of a child, the little boy often found himself wondering if boys truly didn’t cry.

As a kid, he obviously came home crying a lot after he’d fallen from his bike or got into a fight, but while his mother would always comfort him with a cuddle and a kiss on top of his head, his father would either ignore his pleas or just ask him to “toughen up and act like a man”.

While he had no idea how to act “tough”, Hongjoong knew he would spend the rest of his life trying to match his father’s expectations, even if it meant not to ever shed a single tear again.

Nothing would ever beat the complete devastation of losing his mother on his own birthday, so why would ever cry, anyway?

“Fuck- my dad’s gonna kill me” Hongjoong looked through the dusty mirror of the questionable toilets he had locked himself in with his best-friend after they had found shelter in the nearest gas station. Having just turned 15, Hongjoong often found himself skipping class to wander around the city, looking for a new purpose which often led him towards a troubled path. Today was no exception and while most of the kids his age were busy studying for their exams, Hongjoong and San had both decided that summer break had already started.

“I mean, you still won, what’s the big deal?” San shrugged, lighting a cigarette as he perched himself on the edge of the sink, unbothered by the absolute lack of window and the fact they would probably suffocate from the smoke within a minute.

San had been by his side ever since they were little kids as he literally lived across the hall, their front doors so close they might as well have been roommates.

While Hongjoong was an only child, San was part of a dysfunctional, blended family. Hongjoong had lost track of how many step siblings his friend had as it seemed like a new child was to walk through the door every day.

As the eldest, it was no surprise to see San spend most of his time outside of the family circle, roving the streets until the latest hours of the day so everyone was asleep by the time he went home. Hongjoong couldn’t help but wonder if San was ever sad about acting like a complete stranger within his own family, but he never dared to ask. San wasn’t much of a talker and whenever someone would try and cross the iron wall he had built around him, he would just punch them hard enough for them not to even speak his name ever again. Everywhere he went, San seemed to carry some shadow around him, hiding behind violence rather than speaking his truth—and though Hongjoong sometimes feared for his friend, he knew better than to try and change him.

What’s the big deal? Hongjoong asked himself as he wiped blood off the corner of his mouth, trying to pat his bruised skin with his sleeve as it looked like he had bumped into a door, making it a winner. Though he had won the fight - a pretty stupid one, over a pack of cigarettes - against some older kid from high-school, Hongjoong just knew his father wouldn’t let him get away with a face showing obvious signs of weakness.

“Whatever… few more years and I’ll be out of here anyway” Hongjoong sighed while looking down and into the sink. It definitely looked like it hadn’t seen a single wipe in years and if he tried to pour water into his hands, Hongjoong just knew it would come out the color of dirt.

This place was a shithole, like the entire city he had grown in.

Taking his first drag of well-deserved nicotine, Hongjoong couldn’t help but think about his future, counting the days until he was out of this place, out of his father’s grip and finally free to become the man he was always meant to be. Someone powerful whose name would make people shudder, someone his own father would fear.

But for now, he was just a 15yo boy feeling sick at the thought of going home.

Walking into the Dinner like he owned the place, San looked around while giving a few fist-bumps to some acquaintances, the shimmering sound of the bells above the door following his every step. Wasting no time in finding his usual spot by the bar, perched on top of a stool, San immediately slammed his hand upon the silvery surface, announcing himself.

“Whose dick do I have to suck to get a burger?” he chanted, his dimple digging into his cheek as his smile grew wider.

“Fuck off, San” Yunho barely spared him a glimpse, too busy pouring the cheapest brand of soda into two rainbow colored paper cups, his glasses almost slipping off his nose from sweating into the kitchen for too long.

Yunho was a top-class student working his ass off in the evening and sacrificing his weekends to gather enough money for college. While he was the complete opposite of the outcast San had turned out to be, Yunho was still part of the few privileged men who hadn’t been beaten up by Hongjoong’s best friend.

“Jeong, I know you’re craving for it as the flaming homosexual you are, and I’m flattered, but I’d rather sit on broken glass than go anywhere near your flabby cock…”

Yunho knew better than to reply to San’s typical provocations and decided to ignore his comment, taking his order with him toward the table at the very back of the restaurant.

Bending over the bar to grab himself a paper cup where he could pour his own soda, San watched as his best-friend finally escaped from the kitchen, hands full of plates.

“There he is, our local heartbreaker!” San chuckled to himself, grabbing a straw just so he would get a chance to blow into it and watch as its wrapper went flying to the next table, collecting a few cold glances from strangers.

When Yunho walked back to pick up the next orders from his hands, Hongjoong took the opportunity to catch a five minute break, pouring himself a glass of water and gulping it down immediately like he’d been wandering through a desert for days.

Grilling steaks and cleaning tables was nowhere near the glamorous life he hoped for, but it gave him an income and a reason to drop out of school when sitting at a table for 8 hours a day had become too much. Though he was smart and capable of doing great, Hongjoong had quickly given up on any hope for some higher education. If anything, he would be a self-made man and learn from experience rather than black boards and books.

“Rumor has it you dumped your girlfriend, you monster!” San grinned, finding pride in the way his best-friend rolled his eyes at him with complete disgust.

“First of all - she was never my girlfriend, we hooked up twice and the girl thought I’d marry her somehow?” Hongjoong leaned against the counter, elbows anchored into the cold surface as one of his hands found its way into his blonde, ruffled hair. There wasn’t much to say about the girl everyone seemed to think he was dating. They had met at some party downtown, started hooking up after a couple beers and while Hongjoong was quick to admit she gave decent head, this chapter of his story was merely worth of a single page before it was done.

“Once is an accident, twice is a date… Which is why I never do second shots!” San teased, finding pride in the way everyone in town seemed to call him a womanizer. It was actually easy to fall for his charms. Though he wasn’t much of a smooth-talker, San shared the features of a Greek God with a sharp jaw and killer smile and the body of a man who spent most of his spare time at the gym. Every girl he had been with never failed to praise his bedroom skills, regardless of the way he always ran off before sunrise.

Leaning against the bar, Hongjoong simply sighed to himself while locking his head between his arms, absolutely exhausted.

“Whatever” he groaned, unbothered by the reputation he was about to get for ditching a girl after a couple fucks, “you got the cash?” he asked again, composing himself as he recalled the main reason why they had decided to meet up in the middle of his shift.

“Yeah, we good” fiddling with the pocket of his denim jacket, San was quick to hand his best-friend a brown envelope filled with cash and watched it disappear in Hongjoong’s back pocket.

Though he never spared much emotion, Hongjoong couldn’t help but smile for a brief second at the thought of leaving this place soon. Having just turned 18, both him and San were getting closer to freedom and while the path they had taken to gather enough money to move into the big city was not the safest, Hongjoong just knew he was on his way to become the better version of himself.

One thing he knew is that it would be a lonely road as he would never allow anyone to grow a place into his heart, anything close to a relationship he ever had somehow always ending with tears and drama as he failed to commit. While anyone would find it sad, Hongjoong felt comfortable being lonely, his trust issues always making him feel like everyone was a threat, except for the one person he trusted with his own life: his best-friend.

When he came home later that night, Hongjoong felt like he had been run over by a truck, ready to collapse on top of his bed from the exhaustion of a double shift. Fridays were always the busiest and despite his absolute lack of interest in school and studies, Hongjoong had definitely inherited his father’s strong work ethic. The only thing he had, along with his thin nose and his natural pouty lips. Everything else was an absolute copy-paste of his mother’s face, from the shape of his eyes that turned into crescents whenever he smiled to his cheekbones and the mole on the side of his neck, Hongjoong had lost track of the times he’d been told how much he looked like his late mother even though it always brought a genuine smile upon his face.

Having people comparing him to his father would be like being linked to the Devil himself, something he would never wish for anyone, even his archenemies.

The lights were out, except for that one lamp his father always forgot to switch off before going to bed, like he could afford paying for that much electricity when the fridge was filled with coupon food. Walking towards it, ready to turn it off, Hongjoong was surprised to find his father’s silhouette sitting on the couch, facing the coffee table where a ridiculous amount of money was on display. Money Hongjoong instinctively recognized as the cash he was keeping safely hidden in the drop ceiling of his bedroom.

“What’s this?” Hongjoong didn’t know how else to start this conversation, his hands turning into tight fists as he started to dig his own nails into his palms, out of nerves.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking?” his father tone was cold as ever, only now slightly tinted with accusation as his brown eyes traveled from the coffee table to his son’s face.

“Looks like a shit ton of money to me” Hongjoong shrugged, trying his best to ignore his father’s glance as he focused on the most random details surrounding him. The scorch marks on the couch were a fresh reminder of the many times he had walked home to his father fast asleep with his cigarette burning into the dusty velvety fabric of a piece of furniture that belonged to a garbage dump. Hongjoong couldn’t even remember its original color—something between orange and coral but now definitely more of a dirty brown.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t act so cocky... Where’s the money from?” there were many answers to that question but somehow, none of them would spare him a punch in the face.

“In case you didn’t know, I have a job”

For now, he would have to play it safe.

“You’re making burgers and fries, what do you think you are, some fucking CEO?” his father almost spat back, his hand flying into the air like he was too eager to punch something but too early into the conversation to actually hit his son across the face.

“I’m gonna ask you again, just once–” he proceeded, his finger pointing at him now “where is the money coming from?”

“None of your business” Hongjoong knew his attitude would not get him out of this situation, but knowing his father, there was no way he would walk out of this room with his money back if he didn’t stand up for himself. His dad was such a pitiful excuse for a man that he’d rather burn the bills himself than have his son win this battle.

“I did not raise you to become some cheap dealer or whatever that is!”

“You could’ve stopped at ‘I did not raise you” to be fair…” Hongjoong chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest now, his tongue poking on the inside of his cheek as he found pride and amusement in the way his father was getting more frustrated by the second.

A couple years from now, he would’ve caved, apologized and made sure to crawl back into his room hoping not to see his father burst through the door ready to punish him. But today, Hongjoong had finally grown tired of being scared. Over time, his father had become a ghost made of all his insecurities, haunting him occasionally, but he wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

There was a silence as both seemed to challenge each other through the coldest stare until his father finally lifted himself up from the couch, instantly aiming for his throat and pushing him toward the nearest wall, his back hitting it so hard he felt it through every fiber of his skin.

As his father’s bony hand wrapped tighter around his neck, Hongjoong could feel the rage building up inside of him, years of being humiliated, punished, slapped across the face, punched until he was tough enough not to shed a single tear, coming back to haunt him.

The way he had been mistreated and still ignored, only for him to care now that he was this close to walking out the family home? That single thought was enough to push him off the edge and ironically, Hongjoong did the only thing his father ever taught him: he gave the first punch.

Things escalated quickly as they found themselves slammed to the coffee table, throwing punches until Hongjoong was finally kneeling on top of his dad, his fist like a machine that couldn’t be stopped, fury bursting through his veins as blood turned his knuckles into a complete red mess.

It took him a while to realize someone was pulling him off his father’s limp body, San’s worried voice dragging him off his frenzy after he’d used his spare key to storm into the apartment following the worrying noises he had heard on his way back home.

“Holy fuck, Hong’! what have you done?” San was stunned by the sight of his best-friend’s father almost passed out on the floor, his face barely recognizable through the blood and bruises of what looked like a couple broken bones.

A little shaken, Hongjoong had curled himself against the couch, his knees to his chest as his entire body seemed to tremble out of absolute shock. Speechless, he remained silent for a while, rubbing his knuckles as it felt like they’d gone numb from punching repeatedly but when he expected any reaction from him, San watched as Hongjoong finally collected himself and stood up to look down on his father.

“I’m out of here- you hear me, asshole? I’m leaving this shithole of a place you call home! When I walk out that door, you won’t have a son anymore… And when you die, the sooner the better, I won’t shed a tear…” he paused, wiping a few drops of blood out the corner of his lips.

“I hope you’re proud of me, Dad”.

It was the middle of the night when Hongjoong and San hopped on the first bus to the nearest big city.

In the darkness of the empty streets, they still looked like teenagers running away from home with their entire existence reduced into two backpacks, one filled with blood stained money they had gathered from Hongjoong’s living room floor, leaving his father behind in agony without a second look.

As the engine started running, Hongjoong couldn’t help but shake his knee out of nerves, one of the rare bad habits he had taken from his mother. Looking out the window as the town he had known his entire life disappeared, Hongjoong almost flinched as he felt his best-friend’s hand push down his knee, silently asking him to stop. Looking to his side to see him flashing a grin, hope for a new beginning shining through San’s eyes as they entered a new life together, Hongjoong finally felt safe.

“Oh by the way, happy fucking birthday?” San joked as he realized it was past midnight.

Hongjoong had always hated his birthday, but this one was by far his happiest.

The club was already packed - which was no surprise since Friday nights usually brought along a whole bunch of men gathered in groups and ready to celebrate payday the only way they knew how: with booze and tits.

Y/N was running late and while it wasn’t like she had a 9 to 5 job with a time clock, she just hated to fail at anything, that included her impeccable punctuality. One of her colleagues had once joked about the fact she would probably be 30 minutes early to her own funeral, which Y/N couldn’t even deny because, as the control freak she actually was, she knew everything would be planned from the color of her coffin to the choice of a caterer years before she would actually kick the bucket.

“You’re late” Y/N looked up to see Yunho’s worried look as he frowned through his glasses, the complete surprise of seeing her walking through the door past 8PM barely hidden.

“I know, sue me?” she joked while still walking towards the changing rooms as Yunho was quick to follow, hands filled with the run-through he was about to give to the rest of the girls, including his favorite, who ironically happened to be late that night.

“You know I’m not scolding you, right? Just surprised?” guilt seemed to paint Yunho’s face a whole new shade of pink as he frowned slightly, tilting his head to the side like a puppy looking for attention.

“Pl-ease, you wouldn’t scold a pigeon if it shat all over your face, of course I know!” Though she was purposely exaggerating, Y/N couldn’t deny Yunho was by far the nicest man she had ever met in her entire life. While she was forced to interact with actual pigs six nights a week, having someone like Yunho around had restored her faith in men over the years.

When Yunho stopped her in her tracks to grab her hand, forcing her to spin around and face him, Y/N found herself once again thinking that maybe, sometimes, he was being way too nice for his own good.

“Are you okay? Is it your grandma? Do you need the night off?”

“I just missed the bus, Yunho… Can you stop worrying like a dad? You’re getting wrinkles and everything!” Y/N joked just so he would relax a little, her thumb pressing between his eyes where his skin had effectively turned into a wrinkle.

“Alright- do I get a kiss, then?” when his frown turned into a bright smile, Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of him acting like a careless child over again.

There was something pure and delightful about the way Yunho managed to compose himself. Through years of friendship, she had never seen him getting angry to the point he just couldn’t go back to his goofy self within a minute. Their bond was unique though ambiguous, as they often shared a kiss or some level of intimacy people would only find in a couple behind closed doors, but as he also remained her boss, Y/N always made sure no one ever caught them being this close.

Being the boss’ favorite just didn’t strike her ego right, she wanted to be praised for her good work and popularity, not for sucking Yunho’s dick every other Thursday.

She pecked him for a brief second after making sure no one was around and while the frustration was obvious on the face of a man who couldn’t hide his emotions, Yunho still settled for the tiniest bit of affection she granted him with. That’s how much he adored her.

“Okay girls- not that I want you to be nervous, but I’ve been told the big boss is coming tonight, so put on your best stilettos, rise and shine if you want that big raise!” Yunho announced as soon as they walked into the changing rooms where all the girls had gathered to put on their best attires.

After years of running a strip-club, Yunho had learned to remain completely unbothered by the amount of nudity he had to face on a daily basis. Everywhere around him, gorgeous girls were flashing their most intimate bits while he kept his eyes on his iPad, professional as ever.

The room went busier than ever as they all started to comment about what the big boss probably looked like, suggesting some balding man in his 50s with greasy skin and hairy fingers squeezed into golden rings like they were in some bad mafia movie from the 70s.

Silence instantly followed Yunho’s voice when he eventually asked a volunteer for his table, everyone pondering whether it was a good idea to dance for the man in charge of their salary and risking their rent over a mistake or a bad performance.

Suddenly, everyone had an excuse not to do it: a bachelor party, their favorite client, a fully-booked agenda… Anything not to face the man everyone had heard about but never met.

“I’ll do it?”

Yunho looked up for the first time, recognizing the voice through the buzzing sound of a full room. Sitting in front of the mirror Y/N was applying a fair coat of bright red lipstick while smiling to her friend, the thought of a good challenge sparkling through her shiny eyes.

“Are you sure? I mean, he’ll probably bring his sidekicks…” Though he only meant well, Yunho just knew he sounded way too worried for a man whose job depended on his best girl giving the performance of a lifetime. Then again, the simple thought of these men looking at her was enough to make his blood boil into his veins. They were nothing but savages, to his eyes.

“Come on, give me some credits! You think I can’t handle a couple meanies?” she joked, poking her tongue through her teeth as the thrill of a new mission seemed to light a fire within herself

“...and what’s his name anyway?”

“ … Kim Hongjoong, you might want to remember his name”

San walked past the man he had just knocked out to the floor, abandoning his poor soul to the pavement for every other guest standing in the queue to see. Adjusting the front of his shirt, making sure to look immaculate, he flashed a flirty grin to the girl leading them to their table as soon as they entered the club.

“Did you have to break his nose?” Hongjoong sighed, once again the victim of his right-hand man’s impulsive behavior.

“I mean, the guy didn’t know your name? You fucking OWN the place? You think I’m gonna let him disrespect you like that?” clicking his tongue against his teeth while rolling his neck out of nerves, San couldn’t hide his frustration.

“That was pretty fucking funny though” Wooyoung’s laugh was muffled by the sound of music as they got carried further into the main room and directly to the VIP corner.

The youngest of the three was typically hyping San up whenever he failed to compose himself. While Hongjoong always tried to keep his head high and found pride in their reputation, Wooyoung was like a puppy in a bowling alley, always cheering for a fight and laughing at people’s misery. Most of the time, Hongjoong found him endearing, like a child he had taken under his responsibility along the way but tonight, as he stepped into a club with his own name stamped on it, the boss had taken over the friend, hoping not to be completely embarrassed by his friends’ behavior.

As they sat in their booth, towering over the rest of the guests, Hongjoong found himself looking around while trying to empty his head of the burdening thoughts of a long day. San was actually the one suggesting for them to go out and check out the latest club he had bought, almost owning the city by now, and while he wasn’t exactly in a festive mood, Hongjoong had finally agreed, mostly because the sight of Wooyoung in front of some half-naked girls was always entertaining enough to steal a smile from his boss as he just couldn’t contain his excitement.

The place looked decent, dimmed lights giving it some nice vintage boudoir vibes Hongjoong actually loved and while his meticulous eye could already catch a couple changes to be made, he had to admit Yunho was doing a good job at running the club.

Speaking of the Devil, Yunho showed up to their table like he had been summoned, iPad still in hands like it was the logical extension to his hands.

“Jeong Yunho! How’s life? Found yourself a boyfriend yet?” San joked, his body leaning into the booth like he was watching some daytime TV on his couch with no worries whatsoever.

“Hi, San, still a clown, I see?” Yunho smiled, way past his teenage fear of getting into a fight with a man whose fists could actually kill.

When San was about to spit back, Hongjoong stopped him with a single finger up, motioning for him to shut up as he leaned forward to bump fists with Yunho.

“This place looks good… You did well…” he stated, his chin pointing forward as his voice remained composed and collected. There was a genuine will to praise the man for his good work, regardless of his questionable reputation. While they came from a different background, Hongjoong had never been mean to Yunho nor even resented him for being a perfect student coupled with a prodigy son to his beloved, still married parents. Still, while completely opposite, they had managed to find a balance through their business. Yunho would make sure the club kept its reputation impeccable while recruiting the finest girls he could possibly find while Hongjoong brought his name and the right amount of money to keep the place alive.

“Thanks- doing my best!” Yunho tried his best to cover up the joy this praising had brought as his entire life was ruled by his work ethic. To hear it from Hongjoong himself was something he found pride in, as weird as it felt to have him as his boss considering the fact they had shared most of teenage years trying to make end meets in the shittiest town ever seen.

While he didn’t approve of Hongjoong’s ways of living and the questionable business he ran on the side, Yunho couldn’t ignore his friend’s success and the major spin his life had taken ever since he had disappeared from their hometown, 6 years ago.

“Heard about your dad- I’m sorry” Yunho spoke again, his voice unsure as he knew that, above many things, his family was one thing Hongjoong hated to mention. Still, having known him for so long, it felt wrong not to talk about his father passing a couple days ago.

“What are you sorry for?” Hongjoong surprisingly replied, one of his eyebrows raised like he’d been told the most ridiculous thing ever.

“I mean, it’s your dad–” coming from a healthy, loving family, Yunho found it hard to relate with the man’s careless attitude towards such a tragedy, but he also couldn’t forget the many times he had seen Hongjoong walking into the dinner with a black eye or a new bruise, keeping his family life under a silent vow while anyone could tell he wasn’t exactly safe under his father’s custody.

“Couldn’t care less” Hongjoong stated like it was absolutely nothing, brushing the topic off like it was the most random piece of information he would share this week. His father was gone, and the worst part of his life with him. Good riddance.

“Why don’t you find us some good girls for the night, Jeong? Isn’t it what you’re actually paid for?” San interrupted, quite visibly annoyed with Yunho’s puppy look and his typical way of feeling sorry for everyone. The simple sight of him was usually enough to build up his rage and the immediate urge to smash a glass into his face.

“I’ve actually found the perfect girl for you guys, don’t worry about that” Yunho smiled though his heart was aching at the thought of Y/N having to deal with San’s bad manners. His professionalism might have been the one thing helping him navigate through life, but nothing could possibly hide the bitterness of having to throw his favorite girl into the wolves den.

“THE girl? As in… just one? What, you think we all share a bed or something?” San chuckled, his laugh covering up his building annoyance.

“You do know this is a strip-club, not a brothel? If you need someone to fuck, I suggest you log onto Tinder or something–”

Yunho’s snapback came as a surprise as the three men were at a loss for words. Having a good man like Yunho losing his patience felt like getting a nasty bite from the cutest puppy, shocking, but almost cute.

“Bro, that man owns the place, if he wants to fuck all of these girls, he will…” San smirked with the confidence of ten men. “What is it? Do you have a little crush? You don’t want us to play with your girlfriend?”.

“San- that’s enough” Hongjoong interrupted again, clearly frustrated with his friend by now.

After a while, he finally reached for his credit card, handing it to Yunho.

“Open a tab for us, alright? and this…” reaching into the inside of his jacket, Hongjoong handed a thick pile of rolled-up cash as Yunho tried to mentally do the maths so he would get a fair guess of the amount of money he was being given.

“... this is for the girl. If she works hard for us tonight, I’ll double it up” he smirked, pleased to see Yunho’s impressed look as he quickly slipped the cash into his pocket with a content nod.

“Man, she better have tits made of gold” Wooyoung chuckled at the ridiculous display of wealth happening in front of his eyes.

“She’ll double it up, I’m not worried about that” Yunho simply stated before he walked off.

Soon enough, San’s restless comments and Wooyoung’s laugh were merely muffled sounds in the distance as the only thing he could hear was the blood thumping through his veins as he tightly wrapped his fist around the money that would sell his favorite girl to the devil.

✘ Chapter 2 ✘ feel free to comment & feedback!

#kim hongjoong #ateez #hongjoong #smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjong smut #ateez smut #hongjoong fanfiction #hongjoong ff #ateez fanfiction

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emma-nation · 3 years

Text

The Devil In I - Bela x OC (Resident Evil Village AU)

“Step inside, see the Devil in I”

Summary: Aleena Novak is a 19 years old orphan who desired more than living in a village in the middle of nowhere. A talented artist with a big future ahead, she gets the scholarship of her dreams in United States. But everything changes when her twin brother, Auryk, steals an important artifact from Castle Dimitrescu.

In this adventure, Aleena will find way more than she expected.

“You’ll realize I’m not your Devil anymore”

Pairing: Bela Dimitrescu x OC

Genre: Between T and M (Trigger warning for violence, blood, abuse and eventual smut)

Tag List: @nydeiri

Notes: This is my first RES fic, so I'm sorry if I mess it up a bit. English is also not my main language, so a mistake or two may happen. I hope you enjoy it :)

Trigger Warning: Language, abuse, blood and violence.

Eastern Europe - July, 2009

"If he could learn to love another and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?"

Mother closed the book, placing it on the bedside table between Auryk's bed and mine. Then, she lowered herself and kissed my forehead like she did every night. Her long, blonde hair tickled my face and left a trace of her sweet lavender fragrance in the air. I giggled.

"Good night, sweetheart," she spoke.

"Good night, momma."

"Cherish your last night as a six years old. Tomorrow you will become a..."

"Princess?!"

"A seven years old girl. The prettiest girl in the village."

"Pffft," Auryk let out a displeased grunt from his bed, covering his head with the pillow to avoid listening another word from the conversation.

"And you too," mother sat by his side on the bed and repeated her nightly ritual of kissing his forehead to wish him a good night too. "You'll become the most handsome and brave warrior in this village. Do you understand?"

"I hope so. Good night, mom."

"Good night, buddy."

Mother left the room, leaving us both in the dark. However, we couldn't sleep. Not because we were thrilled about our incoming birthday party as any regular child, but because we knew our lives were about to change. Seven years old was the age every child from our village was introduced to the truth and started being trained to fight the evil that haunted our lands. Auryk and I spent minutes, or maybe hours, in silence, staring at the ceiling.

"Leena?" He was the first one to speak. "Do you believe a spell can broken? I mean, like a curse?"

"I don't know, Ryk," I answered, feeling my thoughts starting to drift away. "Maybe we're doomed after all. Or... we could learn how to love the beasts."

The birthday parties always happened during the daytime, rules of the village. We could no longer be outside after 6 PM. Mother got help from the other women to prepare the treats and organize the decorations. Auryk was disguised as a pirate and I... I was Belle, from the Beauty and the Beast.

"So, what do you think you will be getting this year?" My best friend Elena asked while we were playing with our dolls. She was about two years older than us.

"I don't know," I shrugged. Being a merchant, my father always returned home with the most unusual gifts: a magical music box, a voodoo doll that had a life on its own or a fragrance that chased away the monsters - and everybody else too. "A new book. I'm hoping for a new book."

It was only by the end of the party Adrian Novak made his entrance. That was the mystery about him. Nobody knew when he would show up, or if he would show up at all. He still had that same annoying smirk on his face. The corner of his mouth holding a cigarette. The months away made his beard grow longer, as well as his dark hair. In the sunlight, the scar above his eye was even more visible.

"Auryk," he shouted, "come here, son. I've got something for ya."

My twin brother, who had been climbing trees with his friends stop frozen in spot for a second. I couldn't tell if he hated or feared that man. Maybe both. He slowly followed father's command, approaching him cautiously.

"Hi, dad."

"Happy birthday, son," father ruffled his dark straight hair with his strong and calloused hand. "It's about time you grow up."

He handed my brother a large package. From our experience, we knew exactly what it was, a shotgun.

"T-Thank you, dad."

"I'll be spending some time at home. Tomorrow we'll start practicing."

Auryk consented. He shot me a quick glance. From our twin bond I could tell my brother was far from happy. When he blew his candles that afternoon, he didn't wish for a weapon. We wished to be a normal child.

"What did you get, Leena?" He asked once we were locked in the safety of our bedroom.

"Pencils and a drawing book. Dad thinks I'm talented."

Not really. Adrian Novak would never allow his daughter to hold a shotgun. That was, according to him, 'a man thing'.

"Good, at least one of us got what they wanted. Happy birthday, sister."

"Happy birthday, brother."

4 Years Later - October, 2013

It wasn't easy to be the weakest of the twins. Although he was born first, Auryk was the tinniest. The one who was always getting sick or getting injured. The one who couldn't hit a single fucking target when he had the alcoholic breath of his father on his neck.

He aimed for a crow, sitting still on a fence. How hard could it be? Even the eldest man from the village could do any better than that.

BANG! He shot again. And missed.

"Again?!" Adrian angered, shoving him hard on the shoulder. "What the hell is your problem, kid?"

"I don't know, okay? This gun... it's heavy!"

"Heavy? And why do you think we've been exercising for all these years, huh?! We do not live in Disneyland, Auryk. We need to fight monsters, abominations. Someday I won't be home and you need to be prepared to protect our people. Do you understand?"

Tears started forming in the corners of the boy's blue eyes. He couldn't cry. Not in front of him. Crying was a sign of weakness and he couldn't be weak. Not right now. Auryk started to think about all the things he could be doing. He thought about the ocean, as he had seen on TV and books. He could feel the warmness of the sun on his skin. The sand between his toes. His mom and sister were also there, of course - they'd carry them with him everywhere. And he would study Math and Physics. There would be no guns, no monsters, no blood, only numbers, only formulas, only theories. He smiled. He no longer felt like crying.

"I'm sorry, dad," kindness was always the answer, his mother said. "But this isn't for me, you know? I don't like it. I... Remember that boarding school my teacher mentioned? I thought maybe I..."

His words were interrupted by a hard slap on his face. Auryk could taste a small amount of blood coming out from his lower lip.

"So that's what you want? To become one of those little fancy fags? Maybe you're not my son after all."

Adrian started walking away, leaving his son alone, sitting on the floor.

"I AM!" Auryk yelled, enraged. "I am your son."

"Then prove it."

"You shouldn't take so hard on him," Savannah poured her husband a cup of tea. "He's just a boy."

"He's eleven years old, for god's sake," the husband punched the table strong enough to make it shake. "He needs to man up a bit. You should stop spoiling him."

As I left my bedroom I found my brother sitting on the stairs. He didn't have to be so close to listen to the conversation between our parents, father's voice was loud enough to echo through every wall of our small and cozy home.

I sat down by his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Maybe you should do it, Leena. You'd do it better, I know."

"I'm not so sure. Remember when I tried to shoot a scarecrow and almost shot that old witch?"

"Come on, you aimed on purpose! I know."

Auryk finally let out a small laugh at the memory.

"You're good at everything, Leena," he spoke fondly. "You're an extrovert, you're everybody's friend, you can cook, you can draw and paint... you're a true artist. I'm a mistake."

"You're not a mistake, Ryk," I pulled my brother closer, resting my cheek against the side of his face. "We're only at the wrong place and you know it."

Going back to our bedroom, we pulled from the drawers the postcards our grandma Louise sent us from San Diego. Mom had been born in California and lived there her entire life, until she met father during one of his trips. God knows what made her fall in love with that man. Adventure? Danger? I expected better from myself when I turned eighteen. Otherwise, I'd never want to fall in love. Love could be my ruin, just like my mom's.

"Leena..." Auryk held the postcard tightly, "do you think... if he died... do you think mom would take us to nana's home?"

"I don't know, Ryk," I didn't want to think of my father's possible death. But I also dreamed of a better life. "Maybe."

"What the hell?" Father's voice in the kitchen made me jump in fear. I knew that tone. I grew up used to that. Something was wrong in the village. We had to hide.

"To the basement, now!" He emerged at the bedroom, holding a rifle. "Lycans were seen surrounding the area."

We barely had any time to react, mom came and dragged us both to the basement. Father left, carrying his arsenal of weapons as usual. There were other hunters in the village but we always knew how badly it could end. Somebody could always get seriously hurt. Or worse.

The basement had been carefully prepared for that kind of situation years before. It had a big bed, two armchairs, a heating source, some stored food and a shelf. Mom sighed and forced a smile.

"So," she walked to the shelf, "what is it going to be today?"

"Frankenstein," Auryk suggested. My brother loved mystery and horror. As if his life hadn't enough of it.

"Romeo and Juliet," I spoke. There was something about forbidden romance that always caught my interest.

"Okay. I... I'm gonna say a prayer and you two can read the books you picked by yourselves. What do you think?"

"Great!"

Mom kneeled down by the bed's side, holding a crucifix. I could join her if I wanted to, but I'd rather watch in silence. I grabbed my book, sitting on one of the armchairs and pretending to pay attention, while I tried to distract myself from the fact my father could be the Lycans' next prey. Or all of us, if they managed to break into our house.

"Leena?" I woke up hours later with my mom shaking me. "Leena?! Where's Auryk? Where's your brother, Leena?"

I had no idea. I had fallen asleep and apparently, so did mom. She checked for the basement's door, it had been locked from outside.

"No..." she tried to force it open. "No! I can't be..."

All Auryk had to do was to successfully kill and take a Lycan's carcass as a trophy to his father, right? That was what that old douchebag wanted him to do, to prove his courage, his manhood. We had his shotgun, a binoculars and a knife, that should be enough, but first, he needed a good plan.

Looking down to his hands, he had the most perfect idea. Without thinking twice, he sliced a cut through his palm, letting some blood pour on the ground. Then, he found a tall tree. He climbed it and observed. The smell of blood his trail left behind should be enough to attract a creature.

"Come on... come on..."

From a distance, Auryk could hear the sound of destruction and death. There was a battle going on somewhere nearby. Once again Lycans should have found a family or a group of hunters.

And then, he could hear it. The heavy footsteps, the screeching sounds, the sniffing. The mutant creature was only a few meters away from the tree. He aimed, but it was still too distant. He needed to move to a closer branch.

It all happened in one second. He was almost there, reaching for the spot he had picked, but his weight was too much for the tree's branch. In a blink of an eye, he was lying on the ground. His vision was blurred. His head hurt intensely, as well as his arm. It was broken for sure. He possibly had a concussion too. He tried to stand up and run but his legs wouldn't follow his commands. The Lycan was coming straight at him.

"AURYK!" His mother screamed behind him. "NO!"

Time seemed to freeze in that fraction of second. How did she manage to escape the basement? How could she have found him?

But without hesitation, Savannah threw herself on top of her son, protecting him from the jaws and claws of the monster. Auryk couldn't see much, but he could smell it. He could feel it. Blood. There was blood everywhere. He couldn't tell who it belonged to, he or his mom's.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A fast sequence of shots suggested the hunters had found them. The creature stopped moving, stopped howling. It was finally dead.

"M-Mom... it's dead. We... We're safe."

She didn't answer. Instead, he heard another familiar voice.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!" It was from his father. "Savannah! Savannah!"

"D-Dad..." Auryk tried to speak, but the words got lost along the way. "I... I..."

Adrian lifted him by his jacket, holding him inches above the ground.

"YOU KILLED HER! YOU KILLED YOUR MOM, YOUR STUPID BASTARD!"

"I..." tears streamed down the boy's face, his injured brain trying to process what had just happened. "I'm sorry.'

After he was thrown back to the ground, he was hit with a hard kick on his stomach. He turned his head around to notice a small figure hiding behind a tree, watching the whole scene in pure horror.

"L-Leena..." he muttered.

"This is all your fault, Auryk. You're a disgrace to this family."

And then, he passed out. Rumors said he was unconscious for days or maybe weeks. When he woke up, he wished everything had been a nightmare.

Present Days - July, 2021

Nobody mourned Adrian Novak when he died. Not his children. Not his village mates. No human being would ever feel any sympathy for a man who abused and blamed his eleven years old son for his mother's death. It had been two years since Adrian left this world and I couldn't feel any more free.

"Hey," I left another message on my brother's voicemail, "in case you've forgotten it's our birthday today. I'd like to have my twin home, you know? Call me when you get this message."

It was useless, I knew. Auryk would only pick up his phone when he wanted to. Or when he was too drunk. God knew where that guy would be at that time, probably waking up at some girl's bed or getting some rest from... working.

After grabbing myself a cup of coffee, I checked the door's mat. Bills, bills, newspaper and... California Institute Of Arts? I remember having an argument with Auryk about this matter at some point. He wanted me to fill the application and send them my portfolio. I insisted we had no money, not even to pay for the tuition. I won - I always win every argument by the way.

"Your damn son of a..." I placed the envelope on the kitchen's table. I was a coward, I confess. However, I didn't know which pain was worse - to be sure I wasn't good enough or to be sure I was, indeed, but I'd never have money to leave that hellhole. Anyways, I decided to leave it alone. I had more important things to do.

My morning routine: to go to the middle of the woods and do some training. My father used to say fighting wasn't a girl thing, but I was no regular girl. And never in this life I'd allow someone to tell me what to do.

After running, climbing and doing a set of push-ups, it was time for combat training. Travelers from abroad taught me some different set of moves, I'd like to think I created my own fighting style. I was also very good with knifes, daggers or any kinds of short blades, they were useful during a close distance combat. My shooting was a work in progress, once or twice I'd miss the center of my handmade targets.

Then, like everyday, I'd go back home, shower and follow to my shift at the village's pub.

"Hiya, Leena," Gustav greeted me when I arrived. "I heard today is a special day... the day a little girl..."

"NO!" I stopped him. Gustav was my best friend. We had known each other since we were children and somehow, he liked to make my birthday a special - and embarrassing - event.

He placed a handmade fairytale-like book on the table. There were some edited pictures, mixed with some messed up drawings about my birth and childhood. He called it 'The Princess Who Carried The Light'.

"God, you're soooo stupid..." I rolled my eyes and moaned, before wrapping him into a very tight hug. "I love you, you know that?"

"I know. You'd probably marry me, if you weren't into girls."

We laughed together, as Olga, our boss emerged from the kitchen, bringing a cake with nineteen candles.

"Here's to another year," the older woman opened a wrinkled smile, "make a wish, my darling."

I fell pensive for a moment, besides having my twin brother back home, safe and sound, what else could I wish for? California, that scholarship, a new life... that's for sure.

"I wish for... a new life, a new adventure," I pronounced aloud while blowing the candles.

"Careful," a male voice spoke behind me, "words have power, little sister. You may get what you want."

"Ryk!"

I jumped straight to my brother's arms. I could swear that in only a few weeks he had gotten a little bit taller, and stronger too.

"I wouldn't miss my own birthday, right?" He smirked. "So, where's the cake? Please, chocolate... tell me it's chocolate."

"Your silly boy," Olga spread some icing on his nose. "Of course it's chocolate, as you love. And with cherries too."

Auryk responded with a satisfied smile. Olga and her husband, Kristoff, were those responsible for taking care of him after the Lycan attack, years ago. They sort of adopted him like one of their biological children.

"Oh!" The woman exclaimed taking a closer look at Ryk's forearm. He had gotten a tattoo. I hadn't been informed of those news either. Apparently, my brother had more secrets than I could even start to imagine. "This is... new. It seems like my kids are really growing up."

"And only now you noticed that, Olga?" Gustav joked.

Olga shook her head, grinning at herself and returned to the kitchen. The customers were starting to fill the pub. I stared at Ryk again, wondering what other secrets my brother could be keeping.

"So, what does that mean?" I pointed to his newly gotten tattoo, a strange and ancient symbol it seemed.

"Protection from the evil. This is what we need the most in our lives, especially in a place like this. What reminds me -" we turned around, taking a small box from the pocket of his jacket. "Your gift."

I took the black velvet box from his hands, it contained a golden necklace with a magenta gemstone as pendant. My blue eyes drowned themselves in the stone. It had a mysterious glow. Something hypnotizing. Something magical.

"Whoa..." was everything my mouth could pronounce. "And I bought you an Astronomy book."

Auryk stood up from his chair and went behind me, taking the necklace from my hands to wear it around my neck himself.

"This is supposed to protect you from any supernatural and inhumane beings. I won't lose you to them, Aleena. Not like I lost mom."

"Ryk, I... I can't even thank you enough."

"You don't have to. Just... stay alive."

First, I was overflowing with happiness. It either had to do with the fact my brother was home, alcohol, or both. Also, Olga should thank me. Most of the costumers of the day only stopped by the bar because of me. They absolutely loved me and knowing it was my birthday, they had to come and see me. A few of them even gave me some extra tips or a small gift, which was even greater.

"Okay, party girl..." Auryk helped me to get inside of the house as I tripped over the door mat. "Time to go to bed now. Don't you think?"

"Come on, Ryk! Have some spirit! You're home, Olga gave me the day off tomorrow, I earned some money..."

"You told Mrs. Hansen you secretly had a crush on her daughter during Middle School, you danced on top of a table, you're gonna get a hangover..."

"Party pooper!"

I threw myself at the couch. Auryk stood in front of me with arms crossed, looking like a father about to give his child a lecture.

"What?!" I yelled. "It's not like you've never been drunk before. Remember when you stole Adrian's..." I started to laugh, remembering the episode.

"When you were going to tell me about this, Leena?" He showed me the envelope. The Art Institute envelope. The one I had been struggling to open.

"Oh! I forgot. My bad, I didn't open it myself yet. I probably didn't get in anyways."

"You did."

I did?

"It's not like we have money to pay for my tuition. Also, how are we supposed to move to California, Ryk? I work at a pub and you..."

"I've gotten more than enough for that. You know that getting out of this place has always been the plan, since we were children. Leena, I've done some big jobs those last few months. I have the money to grant us a comfortable life in California."

"Smuggling, Ryk!" I raised my voice, saying aloud the information that was supposed to be a secret or not. "You've been stealing to grant us this life."

My brother stared at me in silence. I couldn't tell if he felt offended or embarrassed about my words.

"I'm getting out of here, whatever it takes," he ran a hand through his dark hair. "And you are coming with me. In two weeks, we move to United States for your enrollment."

"But..."

What I was trying to protest against? Leaving the village and starting a new life with my brother was everything I always dreamed.

"Look, I promise you," Auryk placed both of his firm hands on my shoulders, "once we settle down, no more smuggling."

"Okay," I sighed. "We leave in two weeks then."

There was a loud knock on the door. Being drunk as I was, I figured out I should have forgotten my purse at the pub. Or it could be a neighbor with some very stupid emergency.

Auryk opened the door and there was a strange looking man standing there. We wore sunglasses and a hat, behind his back he was carrying a giant hammer. According to the rumors and stories I heard from my parents, that was one of the Lords of The Four Houses, Karl Heisenberg.

"Auryk Novak?" He asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Come with me, kid. You've gotten yourself in big trouble."

#resident evil village #resident evil 8 #bela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #bela x oc #resident evil fanfiction #the devil in i

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scaredandbored · 3 years

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idk anything about Sherlock but u said you have a Sapphic Victorian Sherlock Holmes concept and I would like to hear about it, please! it sounds very interesting + fun even with no knowledge of Sherlock

(well. I can't say none, I was on this site for superwholock, but none that's like. actual actual knowledge of anything canon lol)

hi i dont remember reading this but its quite possible i opened it with the intention of just vomiting lore all over your innocent ask and simply Forgot buT HERE YOU GO (im deliberately keeping it short to avoid being a pain in the ass and also i have sm stuff to do i cannot spend long on this post but maybe ill write the fic someday). it's also very watson-centric as i adore waston in all shapes and forms and have finally come to terms with myself as watson kin over holmes kin (i.e i lost the pretentious "gifted child" arrogance) and am fully projecting onto them instead of holmes :)

1- joan watson was a nurse with the northumberland fusiliers (or whichever division john watson was in in the originals i cannot fully recall) but they got in such deep Shit that the highest ranking officer remaining after a particular raid gave her and some of the other nurses weapons and brief training for self-protection purposes (joan also knew she was attacted to men and women before entering the army but was in love with another nurse while in afghanistan but when she died her the same officer who equipped them with guns (mark morstan) was a real support to her and she did develop feelings but it never went anywhere). joan still gets shot in the shoulder + leg, gets the infection and fever, and is sent home to london, where her mother is disgusted by her leaving home and owning a firearm and refuses to let her back home

2-joan's father feels bad for his daughter, and helps her with fees for london school of medicine for women, but his wife keeps him from seeing much of joan. they write to each other regularly, and joan eventually pays him back in full for college fees with money she makes from her own private practice while living in 221B but we'll get there we'll get there

3-joan must make her own money to pay for her accommodation, but her only source of income while studying is writing short stories under a the name 'j.watson' for the strand- so she must find a flatmate, and fast

4-joan manages to pay rent for a tiny pokehole of a place for a few months, but knows if she can find a roommate, she would be able to afford a flat in town. she arranges to meet mark morstan, whom she knows she cant live with, but who knows more people in london than she does and might know another single woman in search of accommodation who might be willing to split the rent. mark does, but the woman he's thinking of is quite eccentric, and he doesn't want joan associating herself with this woman, for fear her reputation will be tarnished

5-this woman is one sherlock holmes. mark knew her from college in cambridge, where she'd pretended to be a man for the duration of her chemistry degree, and only revealed who she was to him when mark had suggested they try and find a flat together after they had graduated. the revelation of her identity made her behaviours at the college all the more shocking- she'd been the heaviest smoker of the lot of them, had the foulest mouth, and had the best records in the mixed martial arts club. she was the furthest thing from a lady mark had ever met, and he hadn't spoken to her in years, except he'd met her, in the same garb she'd worn in college, posing as a man in a bar for reasons unbeknownst to him. they'd had a friendly chat, and he'd discovered that holmes had recently moved out of the family home and was doing research in bart's hospital, but was seeking a roommate. mark reveals that he'd do anything to find watson a more suitable flatmate, but all the other people he knows searching for accommodation are men.

6-joan is intrigued by this person, having had a friend in her youth who had enjoyed being perceived as a man and a woman, even back before being a woman had much limitations on where they could go and what they could do, and agrees immediately, only a little bashful when mark remarks that this holmes person is incredibly erratic in their behavior and may not even find a well-respected woman like herself a suitable co-habitor.

7-they meet at 221B and the rest is h i s t o r y

8-basically we have a she/her leaning genderfluid, greysexual lesbian sherlock holmes, and we have a she/they gender apathetic, bisexual demiromantic dr watson and they fall in love very slowly and i love them very much they have a dog together too like in the rdj version but im thinking more a red setter like redbeard in bbc

#there is sm more to this #but i am very behind on college work and will forget to answer this is i leave it any longer #thank you so much for asking about them they've been living in my head since 2012

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egg-emperor · 4 years

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(busts through the wall) Also, do you have any headcanons about Eggy as a child and his relationships with various family members (mother, father, Gerald, Maria, etc.)? Pls and thank you

Aaahhh I have so many concepts that I’m not sure where to start but I’ll try to pick out a few of mine to share right now! I just hope I’ve been able to organize this decently enough for it to make sense lol

Some media has said otherwise but it doesn’t count because they’re different canons, so in the main canon I prefer the idea of Gerald being Eggman’s paternal grandfather. The men in the family commonly have male pattern baldness, similar body type, and a thing for well kept facial hair XD Even aspects of their personality and mind, such as their pride (Ivo having the biggest most troublesome ego of all) and their intellect.

I like the concept that some form of Robotnik Corp (Whether it was under the same name or not) existed prior to Eggman’s adulthood as a family business, possibly originating from Gerald. His father was successful in it but it wasn’t a big deal to Ivo. Not when comparing his status as a much more private businessman to his grandfather’s status as a brilliant scientist known by the world. He was bothered by his father’s pride because he saw Gerald and himself as superior with his ego already existing at a young age.

Between the two, it was often his father bragging to him about his work while Ivo rolled his eyes and imagined himself being able to do much better. The only thing his father did that really interested him was his mechanic/engineer work. He learned a lot of useful things for the future by observing him and he got to join in with some of the smaller stuff. His father would hide his surprise at how fast he learned and sometimes did things better than him. He wouldn’t admit that a kid could do better though because that would hurt his pride.

Part of the reason why he has such a big ego besides his intelligence and relation to Gerald is that he didn’t get the attention he wanted. His family was wealthy and he could have almost anything but it didn’t feel special because it was such a normal thing for them. Nothing he could be given was enough to make him feel like he was appreciated to the extent he felt he should be. He always wanted his work to be seen as impressive as his grandfather’s and to feel that much importance more than anything else.

He would go on to have his own success with Robotnik Corp when he was older and it became one of his many sufficient sources of income. But he simultaneously had plans for far greater things, plans to make the entire world know his name and face. He sees himself as much more than his father- a simple businessman in comparison. Nothing like the ruler of the entire planet that he’ll be someday!

I don’t really have any headcanons for his mother. He could have been dead or alive when he was younger but let’s say that for most of his childhood it was just Eggman and his father. Maybe he was never there, maybe he died/left earlier on or maybe he just hardly present. (If anyone has their own ideas that are probably more interesting, feel free to share them with me.)

Both of his parents died without having anything globally memorable to their names and that greatly disappoints him. He would never allow himself to turn out the same way. That’s another one of the reasons why he never gives up on his dreams. Of course, his desire to own the world will never die regardless because he has always known that he is destined for far greater things.

I lean towards the idea that he never knew Gerald and Maria in person because he doesn’t talk about them as if he did. I’ve always interpreted the way he said the ‘could this be the place my grandfather wrote of?’ line in SA2 as him being astonihed that he’s finally aboard it for the first time, or he was at least too young to remember it if he had before. There’s a chance that he did exist at the time since I headcanon him to be in his 50s but I think it’s most likely that he was too young to visit at all.

It took a while for me to picture how Eggman would feel about Maria beside him being rather dismissive of her existence. That was until recently when I read @cruherthedoctor ‘s fantastic fic ‘In the Hall of the Would Be King’ that put a really interesting perspective on it! I can totally see him being jealous of her importance to Gerald. He should’ve been the one to have the luxury of visiting the ARK to get a look at Gerald’s creations firsthand. He thinks he took it for granted, especially since he wanted to go to earth so badly.

He also wasn’t really empathetic towards her having the illness in the first place. I think he has low empathy and trouble with expressing it, even when it is something he has feelings towards, like how he could watch the tape of Gerald’s execution with a blank expression. But in Maria’s case, it was different and he sees her as another to blame for what happened to his Grandfather just like GUN and Black Doom. He was much more concerned with Gerald’s fate and never expressed much towards Maria in general, let alone her devastating story.

That’s how I see it for the main canon but I do like to imagine an alternate story where he did know Gerald and Maria in person. It makes for some more nice concepts of Eggman looking up to Gerald and his interactions with Maria could be interesting!

Young Ivo having the chance to go to the ARK, totally gushing and getting starry-eyed over any knowledge and glimpse of work that Gerald could share is an extremely adorable concept. There’s nothing he’d love more than to learn from him personally! He would do all he can to impress his grandfather with his skills and would learn very eagerly. It would be when he’s most happy and enthusiastic. I don’t see him caring about Gerald’s good intentions for the world. Instead, he’s fascinated with the science, creations, and importance of his work rather than his actual motives.

I think he’d still feel jealousy towards Maria’s importance and how so much of Gerald’s work and effort is for her. He would still think that he was taking her opportunity for granted despite knowing that he had to be there because of her illness. He’d be able to interact with her just fine for the most part. But sometimes he might act a little strange in ways that might insinuate him having a problem with Gerald and Maria’s closer bond, along with the way that he can’t stay aboard the ARK like he can.

Maria to Eggman would be different because he’s kind-hearted and friendly with anyone, so much that he treats those close to her as family like Shadow and the Commander. He would be just as welcoming of Ivo and extremely curious because he’s come from earth. But if he knew of his intentions and beliefs due to his inflated ego then he would try to get him to realize his selfishness and why it’s good to care for others. Of course, Ivo would be very stubborn and not stand for being told what to do, turning it into an argument.

As long as he doesn’t know, he would find his interest in Gerald’s work sweet and his concepts and creations cool even if he didn’t understand them. Even if the way he acts seems a bit off at times, he tries to see the good in everyone and recognizes their qualities. Unless Ivo is blatantly being rude and a troublesome little bastard because then he would try to lecture him and they would totally bicker. XD

Ivo would tell her what certain things are like on earth if he asked and he would actually enjoy sharing his knowledge because he’ll take any opportunity to impress his cousin as he does with his grandfather. He would also love to hear the stories he had to share, using the things he learned to add to her list of what he wanted to experience on earth herself someday.

That was still kind of a lot but I have so much more that I want to share in the future in further detail. Maybe involving more characters too. But this was a lot of fun and I hope this is an alright answer for now! :D

#headcanons #my post #robotnik family #asks #dr. eggman #eggman #dr eggman #dr robotnik

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storiesbyladychi · 4 years

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Fic: In the House of Cedar and Pine

Fic Title: In the House of Cedar and Pine

Fandom: 12 Monkeys

Pairing: James/Cassie

Summary: How they got to their happily ever now. A post-finale expansion fic because I loved everything about it.

It doesn’t take much to rebuild her life.

Not that it needs rebuilding, in this timeline. She carries the burden of knowing inside her mind -- knowing what was, what could never be, now. Who could never be. With that knowing, her relationship with Aaron ends quietly. Her practice, she establishes with hard work, taking care of children every single day.

Athan. Athan will never be, not in this timeline. And her body doesn’t carry the signs of carrying him anymore. Once upon a time, her stomach had stretch marks, so did her breasts. James had kissed them, once. She’d held him as he cried, as Athan became real for the first time to him. A reality she’d been living with, a burden she’d been carrying, a hope she’d been harboring.

None of that mattered anymore.

For a while she was numb. Then the pain of it -- of losing everything -- of giving everything up, was a razor in her side that she took with her everywhere.

And then, miracle of miracles, she began to heal. What she lost became a phantom limb -- something she always knew was there, but the loss of it, she’d adjusted to.

It was hard to make friends, living in this new reality. She thought about support groups -- mothers who’d lost children, spouses who’d lost their partners, but in this timeline, in this reality, she’d never had those things. It could be easily proven she had not. So maybe healing was a slower process than it could have been, had she had anyone to talk to.

When the house came up for sale, she hesitated for not even a second. It wouldn’t be torture, she told herself, more of an honoring of what had been before, to restore the house, make it comfortable, live in it once again.

She did as much as she could herself, and she saw his face whenever she did. She remembered painting the living room once before, scrubbing out cabinets with him, with James. The apocalypse had made its people self-reliant. James could, and did, wield a hammer as well as he could a gun, plant crops and harvest them, build fence and live in the wild. Some of those things had come in handy when they were remaking the farmhouse for the first time.

The house of cedar and pine

There was a small room next to her bedroom They’d talked about making it the nursery, painting it a soft yellow. They’d never gotten as far as building furniture or gathering the things they would have needed for an infant. She never had a blanket with his name embroidered in it, had never had a baby shower.

Never got to love him, anticipate him, hope for him, the way she wanted to. Before she’d gotten a chance to do any of that

At any rate, whenever she passed that room in her new house, she laid a hand on the door. It remained closed. She was healing, but she wasn’t there yet. Maybe that wound wouldn’t ever close.

She went to work, she healed as well as she could, she came home. She made herself instant noodles and ate supermarket salads, she watched the sun set, she read books (she’d gotten used to the relative quiet of the 2040s and couldn’t bring herself to watch TV very often), she made notes, she went to bed. She slept on the left side, and laid her hand on the pillow next to hers.

Thanks to Time, she lived.

Jennifer knew he was coming, which was his saving grace. She had more money than she knew what to do with, and so she could make him appear -- in databases, in school records, in the Social Security system. Now it appeared to the world as though he’d been working Markridge security for several years.

“You don’t have to,” she told him, “in fact, you don’t have to do anything. I don’t know if you’re the kind of person who can do nothing, but don’t think you need to worry about a job, or anything.”

She showed him the bank account she’d set up for him, and his stomach had roiled. “It’s too much, Jennifer. It’s way too much.”

“You totally Messiah’d yourself for seven billion people, and this is like, two days worth of income for me,” she told him. “It’s no biggie.”

She’d packed a suitcase for him, the kind of things he’d worn before, the kind of things he’d be comfortable in. Jeans -- not broken in, he’d have to wear them several days in a row for them to really be comfortable. Henleys, plaid shirts, jackets with sherpa fur lining them. Good quality stuff. Enough to get him started, in upstate New York, where Cassie was. In the house of cedar and pine, Jennifer told him. Where she was always meant to be. Where he was meant to be.

“She’s been waiting for you, without knowing she’s waiting for you, if you know what I mean, Otter Eyes.” She’d wrapped him in a hug before she sent him on an airplane north -- the Markridge private jet. She smelled good -- better than she smelled in the apocalypse, but still her. “You’re a good man, James Cole. Even time thinks so.”

He walked down a path that was familiar to him, and had an odd sensation of coming home to somewhere he’d never properly been before. Good shoes on his feet, thick socks. Everything new, everything slightly uncomfortable. He’d taken three showers in three days. Would she recognize him if he was this clean?

He didn’t shave, hoping at least the scruff would help him feel familiar in this world that was familiar but somehow alien to him. He wondered if he would ever feel like he belonged.

Right now, Ramse was just a little kid. Jennifer told him Cassie would remember him, but -- well, it wasn’t that she was crazy or couldn’t be trusted, she always told the truth, but…

He’d survive without her, if she didn’t remember. Or he’d work, he’d show her, he’d fall in love with her again, and again. A blank slate wouldn’t be the worst. Or had they fallen in love with each other because of the grooves time had worn in their souls that matched?

They said good-bye once. In the room with the machine, yes. But in their bedroom first. Slow hands and sweet kisses, making love slowly, achingly. Trying to carve space in each other bodies for the other. Knowing she would forget him. Knowing he would never exist. Trying to become permanent in the face of unforgiving Time.

It’s likely she won’t remember. He tried to prepare for that.

Or maybe -- maybe, they’ll have that sweet pleasure-pain again of finding each other again. He remembers -- after an hour, after a minute, after a second apart -- we can have forever.

And now. With an ending. That makes it real.

He sees Cassie before she sees him. And his heart leaps up in his throat and his stomach is in knots. Another time, another place, he’d seen her first. He’d been a little in love (nothing like he felt now), sure that he was going to ruin her life. There’s no promises now, but there’s a pleading in his mind, a hope for one last gift from the universe. Please, please, please….

Death can be undone. Love cannot.

Surely across time, across space -- surely they’d bound their hearts so securely to each other -- tethered them there, that -- please.

She’s sitting on the porch, surrounded by flowers. Flowers she’d grown because she had time and inclination and skill. Things she’d never had before. On the porch, comfortable furniture. The door is painted the bright green they’d always talked about.

Is there a spot for him?

Oh, Time knows, Jennifer had said. But it also knows -- it owes you one.

But is the one another shot? Or is the one a shot with all of the things he’d never really dared to hope for, the dreams he’d kept so precious he’d never even told them to Cassie. A home. Regular access to food and clean water. And security enough to hope for children, fatherhood, not to dread it because there’s nothing in the world but pain.

She sees him. She stands up. And on her face…

Recognition.

Hope.

Love.

Learning each other again -- it takes some time. They’re used to it, they have a quick shorthand -- do you remember this? Do you still, are you…?

Questions answered, questions asked. She takes a day off of work and they open up the room she hasn’t yet, and they make plans to paint it yellow.

In hope.

She goes back to work. He takes a little more time. Works on the house. Watches YouTube videos about plumbing and wiring. Thinks he might someday have to have a job, a regular one, where he shows up and works regular hours. With his credentials, he could do anything. He’s been a factory worker, a survivalist, in this world, he’s supposed to have worked security. He’d like to give up the guns, all of it, but it’s what he’s good for, what he was designed for, like Cassie was designed to be a healer. He’s always been a soldier of some kind.

The local police force advertises that they’re hiring. Cassie doesn’t love it, but she loves him, knows he feels like he still owes a lot back to the world.

He takes the job.

They slow dance to These Arms of Mine in front of a Christmas tree they’ve decorated. He holds his breath all day. Cassie isn’t pregnant. They haven’t talked about trying yet -- only in vague terms.

What she does ask is if he’s ready for her to stop… preventing it.

He says he is.

And then he goes to town and buys her a ring. Not because they need a wedding, but because now that he has something closer to a lifetime, he’d like to promise it to her, if they have a child. Or if they don’t.

When it happens, when she conceives… they both cry. He kisses her cheeks, her palms, her stomach. Loves her thoroughly.

“What do we do if it’s a boy?” Cassie asked, tears in her eyes. “What if it’s Athan?”

“We’ll know,” James says, all the certainty of the universe behind him. “If it’s Athan, we’ll know. I think… I think in some ways, he was meant to be. Maybe this child will be him. I’d sure love a shot to know him. To raise him.”

She nods, too. But not knowing is breaking her heart. The ultrasound confirms… it’s a boy.

They get home and she collapses to the floor, taking him with her. She lost Athan, and now she has him again, but the loss never really goes away. They live in this state, where they get to know him, and they didn’t get to know him and lost him, at the same time.

Nothing is ever simple.

James paints the room yellow. They look at baby furniture on the internet.

Jennifer sends them a stuffed unicorn.

A package arrives from Jones -- someone with whom they’ve yet to have any contact in this life. It’s a blanket, with Athan’s name embroidered in blue thread.

Cassie goes into labor on a Tuesday in the middle of the day. She’s later than her due date, which she told him had happened before.

He holds her hand, breathes with her, listens to her as she labors. It’s nothing like TV. She does groan and moan, but she doesn’t curse him, doesn’t blame him. She’s a warrior, his Cassie, and this is her mission, her sole concentration on the moment at hand, bringing their child into the world.

She falls back against the tub, and the midwife hands her their son and it’s looking down at Cassie, looking at Athan that James thinks… oh. Oh. There you are.

Cassie is crying and Athan is crying and James is… in awe.

And also crying.

Fatherhood… something he’d been denied before. Now that he’s had the privilege, he’s even angrier than he was before, against people long dead and who won’t ever exist. He didn’t know what he was missing, the way Cassie knew what she was. She’d had a mother, and a childhood… he hadn’t really. But now he gets to be on this side of it. Gets to walk the hallway when Athan is fussy in the middle of the night. Change the diapers. Watch Cassie nurse him. Give him kisses and love him so entirely, with every fiber of his being that he wondered how he ever thought he knew what love was before.

He takes Athan out on the porch as the sun is setting. It’s chilly, so they won’t stay long. “This is our house of cedar and pine,” he tells his son. “We’ll have our perfect moments here. And our imperfect ones. And we are so very, very glad you’re here.”

#12 monkeys #cassie/james #post-finale fic #i loved it so much y'all

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talia-suskauer · 7 years

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Feels Like Loneliness - Part Eleven

This update took a long time. Lots of things prevented me from writing. However, I got this part done and I hope you all enjoy. There’s only going to be one or two more parts of this fic to come. Shout out and thanks to @francescabuccino for discussing my ideas with me ♥ -Megan

“Incoming trauma, car crash victim, two minutes out,” April hollered.

Amelia followed the woman, along with Richard. As she made her way out there, she caught sight of her husband in the ER and she felt pain in the pit of her stomach. It sucked working at the same place as Owen. Just looking at him lately made her want to cry. She knew she couldn’t do that though, not while she had a job to do. The ambulance pulled up, and all of them rushed over.

“What do we have?” April asked.

“Female, 35 years old. She was seen crossing the street and got hit by a car. The driver wasn’t paying attention. The witnesses said he wasn’t going fast, but the impact was still enough. She’s alive but sustained multiple injuries,” the paramedic started explaining.

“Do we have ID for this woman?” Richard asked.

“We couldn’t find any ID on her.”

“That’s Ella,” Amelia said in a hushed tone.

“What?” April asked.

“It’s Ella,” Amelia said louder. “Owen’s girlfriend.”

“Let’s get her inside, now!” April demanded.

The pushed her inside, getting her set up in an empty trauma room. As Amelia pulled her small light out of her pocket, she looked over the redheaded woman on the table. Their last conversation replayed in her mind over and over again as she stared at the wounds on her body.

“Dr. Shepherd?”

“Huh?”

“Were you going to examine this patient or are you just going to stand there?” Richard asked.

“She told me she’s pregnant,” Amelia said.

“She’s pregnant?” April repeated. “Webber, get Robbins down here now. How far along is she?”

“I don’t know. She showed up here a the other week and told me that she was pregnant, I don’t know, Kepner! I didn’t exactly take the time to find out details about the baby that she was planning to raise with my husband!”

Arizona rushed down to the trauma room and began an ultrasound while the rest of the doctors continued to work on her. Her face crinkled as she moved the wand around her stomach.

“Uh guys?” she asked. Everyone looked up.

“What is it, Robbins?” Richard asked.

“What am I meant to be looking at? There’s no baby in there.”

“Amelia, you said she was pregnant!” April snapped.

“Because she told me she was! Her exact words were ‘We’re having a baby. He’s chosen me, Amelia. I’m giving him the life he dreams of.’ She told me that she was pregnant and giving him a family,” Amelia stated.

She was fuming. Ella lied to her? It made sense. She wanted to drive Amelia away, out of the picture. She wanted her gone so she could have Owen, and she knew that saying she was pregnant would be the way to drive an even larger wedge between the married couple. It was infuriating that she would lie about something so serious. She continued on with her neuro examination.

“She’s stable for now, let’s get her up to CT,” Amelia said, putting her light away when she finished.

She wanted to just leave her, and let anything wrong with her kill her. She felt feelings of strong, strong hate towards the woman in front of her. As a doctor she knew she couldn’t do that. Above everything else she was a patient, and it was Amelia’s job to make sure she stayed alive.

As they wheeled her out, Owen glanced over. His eyes widened as he saw his girlfriend. She had several long lines of stitches to close up the deep wounds, as well as an array of dark bruises littering her pale skin.

“What happened?” he asked, running over to them.

“She was hit by a car, we’re taking her up to CT,” April said.

“I’m coming with you, I can help.. I.. The baby, what about the baby?”

“You go ahead, I’ll meet you up there,” Amelia said. She turned to Owen. “You can’t help, Dr. Hunt. You’re in a relationship, and you can’t work on family. That goes for significant others even if you’re not ‘family’ exactly. You know that. And there is no baby. She’s a freaking liar,” Amelia told him.

“She wouldn’t lie about that,” Owen said. “I know you don’t like her but you don’t need to go around trying to give me false inf--”

“Arizona checked. I told them she was pregnant and there was nothing there but an empty uterus. You’re right, I don’t like her. I hate everything about her, but she is a patient, my patient, now if you’ll excuse me,” she said, pushing past him.

“She’s seizing,” Amelia shouted.

The doctors worked to maneuver the woman onto her side.

“Damn it,” Amelia hissed.

The seizure began to slow, eventually ending. Amelia did another quick but thorough neuro exam, and shook her head.

“We need to get her to an OR, now.”

Owen sat in the waiting room for hours. He couldn’t believe that Ella had been in an accident like that. He was scared for her. He cared for her, he didn’t want her to die. He knew that she was in good hands though. He knew that every surgeon she was with would take amazing care of her. Even Amelia, even though he knew that deep down it was killing her inside to have to save Ella.

Sipping at a coffee, he held the cup tightly in his hands. His left leg bounced gently as he sat there. He wasn’t talking to any of the people around him, his head was filled. Ella lied about being pregnant. All he could think about was the fact that she lied about it, getting his hopes up just for it to be nothing. He wanted a family so badly. In his perfect world he would be happily married with at least one kid, but hopefully more than that. And there he was dating someone while being separated from his wife, still with no child in the picture. The life he envisioned was definitely not exactly what he had.

Owen heard footsteps and looked up. Amelia tugged off her scrub cap and held it tightly in her hands as she approached her husband. She let out a soft sigh as she took in the terrified expression on Owen’s face.

“Is she...?” he asked, expecting to hear that Ella was in a coma, or worse.

“She’s fine,” Amelia replied. “She isn’t awake but she’s alive.”

His face softened and he moved closer to Amelia, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“It’s my job, Owen,” she replied somewhat coldly, pushing him off of her. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you when she wakes up.”

“I’m not so sure,” Owen said.

“Why?”

“She lied to me. She got me thinking I was going to be a dad, and then it was just.. just ripped away from me. It’s so wrong to lie to somebody about that,” he told her. “I can’t be with someone like that. I can’t be with someone who lies about being pregnant.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to find your next woman to try and win over,” she said, biting her lip.

She didn’t want Owen to keep seeing other people. She didn’t want him to forget that she was there, waiting. She loved him. Amelia shrugged, and began to walk away. Owen took hold of her by the forearm and tugged her back to him.

He looked into Amelia’s eyes, keeping them locked. His heart was beating heavily, as was hers. He really did love Amelia. He wanted her, he just wanted less fighting. He wanted things to be natural, and happy. He wanted a family someday, but he wanted it with Amelia, even if she wasn’t there yet. Being apart from her and getting to test the field, Owen knew that she was the only one who could make him feel how he did.

“What if I want to win you back over?” he asked.

“Owen, you don’t want that..” she said softly.

“I do. We’ll figure us out Amelia. Please.”

With their gaze locked for a few more moments, Owen hesitated a little before leaning in closer. He pressed his lips to Amelia’s and pulled her up against him. She reciprocated the kiss, reaching a hand up to cup his face.

“I’m glad Ella wasn’t pregnant,” Amelia admitted.

“I’m sad, but a little relieved. I think it would be hard to have kids with her. Especially seeing her true colours.”

“Owen, I still don’t want to have...”

“I know. But I want you. Someday maybe you’ll change your mind, or we could adopt. We can get a pet! We just need to figure it out, Amelia. I’ve seen what’s out there, I want this to work. I want us to work.”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around him for a tight embrace.

“I never stopped loving you.”

“I never stopped either.”

#amelia shepherd #owen hunt #omelia #omelia fanfiction #fanfiction #grey's anatomy #feels like loneliness

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zell-dincht · 7 years

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All That Remains

Chapter 1 Words: 2944 Rating: Pretty tame for now Summary: Decided to just expand on my headcanons in a fic addressing the 10-year time gap and what happens when Iggy and Gladio finally reunite. No idea how long this will be yet. Notes: Soooo, the game leaves a lot of blanks to fill in, and I hope where I'm taking this all makes sense. Also gave a shot at writing from Iggy's perspective, so hopefully this is all ok. I will note that Gladio doesn't immediately come off in the best light, but without spoiling anything, I will say remember that this is Ignis' thoughts and interpretation, and also Gladio has his own personal reasons for the way he treats Ignis. (Also on AO3)

———

Ignis didn’t need his sight to know that Gladio had been driving more slowly than usual. He had spent enough time on the road to gauge the sway of the vehicle and the sound of wind gusting past to know that Gladio was deliberately being careful as their RV steadily continued west towards Lestallum.

The slow pace did make him feel a bit anxious. Ignis was eager to reach the safety of the city’s lights now that darkness had spread over the land. The longer it took to reach their destination, the greater the risk of being attacked by the daemons that now roamed freely. Though, he still didn’t complain, since they were escorting several civilians from a small outpost. They fit as many as they could into the RV, and the others piled into trucks, vans, or any other vehicles that were available. Ignis wouldn’t want to make their passengers uncomfortable by insisting on a fast, bumpy ride, or worse - risk losing the rest of the convoy.

With Gladio behind the wheel and Prompto poking out the roof-hatch of the vehicle, keeping watch, that didn’t leave much else for Ignis to do. But what else could he do? For all his practice maneuvering without vision, it didn’t count for much in a car. He couldn’t watch the road to relieve Gladio at the wheel, nor could he help Prompto keep an eye out for incoming daemons. Ignis offered multiple times that he was happy to help with anything they needed, but every time, Gladio insisted he just relax and look after the passengers.

All his life, Ignis had a purpose. He knew his duty and dedicated his life to the service of Prince Noctis. But now, Noctis was gone, swallowed by the power of the crystal, with no way of knowing when he would ever return. The trio waited in Gralea as long as they could, but after several days, their supplies had diminished, and the daemon presence only continued to grow more and more dangerous. With the crystal showing no changes or no sign of returning their Prince, they realized that they had to move on. Life had to continue without Noct, for now.

They used leftover equipment from the Empire to transport the crystal to Angelgard, where they hoped Noctis would remain safe until his return. Although nobody knew when that would be, Ignis had faith that they would see their Prince again. After all, he needed to return to fulfill his destiny. In the meantime, there was plenty of work that presented itself to Ignis and the others. With constant darkness engulfing the land, many settlements were in danger of daemon attacks, so they quickly set to work on evacuating smaller, vulnerable towns, and moving them to the safety of Lestallum.

At least, Gladio and Prompto were evacuating. Ignis felt as though he was nothing more than a conversationalist to their passengers. He hated idly sitting around, and at times, even felt unnecessary. Ignis knew that he was capable of so much more, and when they did face the danger of a daemon attack, he easily proved his worth in battle. The rest of the trip, however, only gave Ignis time to lose himself in all his worries.

In hopes of distracting himself, Ignis began carefully arranging his cooking supplies on the surface of the RV’s kitchenette. He’d spent plenty of time practicing cooking without his sight and found that it wasn’t so difficult, after all. The techniques were mostly muscle memory, and the right measuring cups eliminated any guesswork. Ignis didn’t even bother with his cookbook, for now. He began preparing a recipe that he knew by heart - a dessert he had baked countless times for Noctis, with just a few alterations with each serving. Good ingredients had become difficult to come by, but Ignis allowed himself to indulge a bit. He could always restock once they reached the city.

This time, he tried three different variations of the recipe - one with brown sugar, one with a coffee-creme filling, and another with chocolate hazelnut. It wasn’t long before the sweet smells of the mini-cakes filled the vehicle. The passengers were thrilled to share such a treat, and even Prompto briefly popped back into the RV to get a bite.

Ignis kept one coffee-creme cake for himself and cut it in half before returning to the passenger seat at the front of the vehicle.

“Tell me what you think,” he said as he offered one of the halves to Gladio.

“This again?” The swordsman sighed, but accepted the cake. He popped it in his mouth and replied in a muffled voice, speaking as he chewed his food, “It’s good, but I don’t know what to tell you. Don’t know how it’s supposed to taste, and Noct isn’t here.”

“He will be, before long, and I’d like to have ideas prepared for when he returns,” Ignis explained as he nibbled his own piece. “He deserves as much, to taste that dessert once more before he–” As he spoke, Ignis’ voice grew softer until he simply trailed off. He feigned clearing his throat to buy himself a brief moment to compose himself, then continued, “Before he fulfills the prophecy.”

Both men knew what that meant: “Before Noctis sacrifices his own life to return light to the world.” They had known the Prince’s fate all along, yet it was still difficult to think about, now that the prophecy would soon become reality. As much as they awaited Noct’s return, they knew it was a bittersweet wish, because their reunion would also mean it was time for their final goodbyes.

“You spoil him rotten, you know that?” Ignis felt a strong hand rest on his knee and could almost hear the smirk in Gladio’s voice. “Even when he’s not here.”

Ignis smiled softly as he placed his hand over Gladio’s, gently lacing their fingers together. “And you’ve always been too hard on him. Yet he’s still grown into a fine young man, hasn’t he?”

There was a moment of silence from Gladio where Ignis guessed that he must have nodded in response, then quickly remembered to speak up, “Yeah. We did good.” The swordsman gave Ignis’ hand a little squeeze. “You’ll make a great dad someday.”

“Absolutely not,” Ignis firmly replied.

“What? Don’t tell me you never thought about it,” Gladio chuckled softly. “You’ve practically been a mother to Noct since we were kids. And thanks to these daemons, there’s plenty of orphans out there looking for a good home. Hell, Iris could even use a hand with Talcott–”

Before Gladio could continue, Ignis sharply pulled his hand away and folded his arms over his chest. “It’s not something I’ll consider for a long while. At least not until we’re rid of all these daemons.”

Maybe Ignis was looking too deeply into this conversation, but he suspected Gladio was trying to coerce him to remove himself from the fight. Again. Ever since the incident in Altissia, Gladio had been openly vocal about Ignis stepping down. While his words had become less harsh, his meaning was still clear - he felt that Ignis would be safer if he remained in the city with all the other helpless civilians. Coercing Ignis to settle down and adopt a child - now, of all times, with a world as dangerous as this - was surely another tactic to keep him out of harm’s way.

Time and time again, Ignis proved himself more than capable of holding his own in battle. He couldn’t believe he still had to deal with this sort of coddling. So what if he was blind? That didn’t suddenly make him a helpless infant. If anything, he thought it gave him an advantage in the darkness. While the others relied too much on their tiny flashlights, Ignis was easily able to maneuver around the battlefield without having to worry about poor lighting obstructing his field of vision.

Before the two men could address Ignis’ sudden change in demeanor, however, the sound of a gunshot drew their attention. It was Prompto, signalling the nearby presence of daemons. Gladio pulled the RV to the side of the road and called out to the passengers as he made for the door, “Everyone hang tight, should only be a short delay.”

Ignis began to follow, but was suddenly met with resistance as the swordsman placed a hand to his chest. “You hang back with the passengers, in case one of the daemons slips past us.”

“Absolutely not.” Ignis firmly knocked Gladio’s arm out of the way and moved forward. “Prompto can monitor the RV just fine.”

With the daemons moving in closer, there wasn’t any time to argue. By the sound of the continued gunfire, it seemed that Prompto remained perched on the roof of the RV and would easily be able to call out if any daemons moved too close to the vehicle. Not that he would need to, though. Ignis was perfectly aware of what enemies they faced and where they were located - a small cluster of imps just ahead, a lone ronin, and an iron giant.

“Gladio, distract the giant,” Ignis instructed, not missing a step in assuming his usual role as a strategist. “I’ll remove the smaller annoyances so we can focus our attacks on the larger enemies.”

The ronin charged towards Ignis, who easily dodged the daemon’s blade and countered with a dagger to his back, knocking it out into the open so Prompto could have clear shots. Ignis summoned his weapon back into his hand and threw it towards the cluster of imps, followed by the second dagger. The blades hit their marks, and once again, he recalled his weapons, not breaking his step as he finally closed the distance. Ignis slashed at his enemies with elegant sweeps of his blade, skillfully deflecting and countering the imps as they lunged at him with their claws.

But Ignis wasn’t too focused on his own fight to neglect his companions’ progress. As he steadily eliminated the imps, Ignis heard the loud clang of the giant’s cleaver and labored breathing from Gladio. He immediately dashed away from the couple of remaining imps and hurried to the other man’s side.

“Iggy!” the swordsman called out, but his backup had already arrived.

Ignis lept into the air and wedged his daggers beneath a weak point in the giant’s armor. The daemon reeled and swung at its new attacker, but it was too big and slow. Ignis easily backflipped away from the creature and landed just beside Gladio.

“Thanks,” Gladio sighed in relief and gave Ignis a quick pat on the shoulder before returning his attention to the fight.

The two men continued fighting side-by-side, easily dispatching the last of the imps as they tried to assist the giant. With a bit of teamwork and resilience, it didn’t take much longer until Gladio and Ignis defeated the iron giant as well.

Gladio immediately turned to his companion, who could practically feel the other man’s eyes intently looking him over. “How’re you holding up?” the swordsman asked as he raised a hand to cup Ignis’ jaw.

“Better than you.” Once again, Ignis swatted his hand away. His focus never strayed from the battle, and he could still hear the gunfire as Prompto struggled against the ronin.

“Uh, guys? A little help here!” the blonde called out.

Ignis already had a lightning flask in hand, which he tossed straight at the daemon. A burst of thunderbolts clashed around the ronin, causing it to fizzle and quickly die out. The strategist could practically feel the tension leave the air as his two companions exhaled sighs of relief.

“Well done,” Gladio commended and gave Ignis a hearty pat on the shoulder as they returned to the RV.

That was it. Just a pat on the back. Ignis carried both of them through the entire fight, and that was all he had to show for it. Of course, he never did need anything much in return in all his years of selflessly serving the Crown. For years, Ignis always took care of the others and was simply comforted in the knowledge that the people close to him were well cared-for. He didn’t need any favors or glory, but now it pained him to know that despite his key role in supporting the team, there would always be someone to try and convince him to sit out the next fight.

Instead of returning to the empty seat beside Gladio, Ignis chose to remain in the back of the RV with the civilians for the rest of the ride to Lestallum. None of them seemed to care about his dark-tinted glasses, or the scars that he was unable to keep hidden behind the lens. They were just happy to have someone protect them. That was what Ignis wanted - to do his part making the world a safer place until Noctis could bring back the light.

As he spoke with the passengers, Ignis heard a small sniffling noise closer to the back of the cabin. It sounded like the slow, shaky breathing of a child trying to hold back his tears. Ignis turned his head in the direction of the child, more out of habit than actually being able to see, and held out his hand, beckoning the child closer.

“What’s your name?” Ignis calmly asked as he felt a small hand gently rest in his palm.

“I-it’s Rhys, sir,” the boy replied.

“And you may call me Ignis,” he said as he gently shook the child’s hand. “Is something troubling you, Rhys?”

“The daemons…” Rhys sniffled. “They were so scary! Is it always like that?”

The child must have peeked out the window when the monsters attacked. Ignis sighed and offered Rhys a gentle smile. “You saw them, did you?”

Silence. It was a fair guess to assume the child simply nodded, unaware of Ignis’ condition.

“Well then, if you saw them, you saw us as well, did you not?”

This time the child responded with a soft, “Mhmm.”

“Then you’ll know these monsters are no match for my friends and me,” Ignis reassured and gave Rhys’ hand a gentle squeeze. “As long as you’re with us, you’re safe. You have my word.”

But instead of the relieved comfort that Ignis had hoped for, he only heard more stifled sniffles. “Is something else wrong?” he carefully asked.

“Papa said boys don’t cry,” Rhys said in a shaky voice. “He said I gotta be a man and toughen up.”

That sounded like someone else Ignis knew. Though, he didn’t dare ask where “papa” was now. Gladio was absolutely correct when he spoke earlier of children who lost parents to daemons, which was likely the case for young Rhys here. With a sigh, Ignis reached out and rested a hand comfortingly on the child’s shoulder.

“Just because you’re a boy doesn’t mean you don’t have feelings,” Ignis explained. “Emotions are part of what makes us human. So be strong, just like papa told you, and cry and laugh… Holding it in does you no favors.”

As Rhys paused thoughtfully, Ignis felt small fingers gently graze up his left cheek. “What happened to your face?”

A nearby woman responded with a mortified gasp as she hissed the boy’s name.

“It’s quite all right,” Ignis reassured with a gentle smile.

“Was it daemons?” Rhys prodded.

“No, the Empire,” Ignis explained. “But I’m all right now. As you can see, I can still cook delicious cakes for you and fight off the daemons.”

“Did you cry?”

“I did,” Ignis quietly admitted. It wasn’t something he ever spoke of with the others. No one really asked. Gladio was too furious after the incident, Noct was mourning his own loss, and Prompto had been too stressed over keeping the peace. As always, Ignis had to remain strong for the others, but there was a private moment of vulnerability where the weight of everyone’s burdens overwhelmed him to tears. He wasn’t proud of it, but he wasn’t about to admit that detail to a child just learning how to express himself.

Suddenly, he felt a pair of arms gently wrap around his neck. In response, Ignis lifted a hand to comfortingly pat Rhys on the back.

“Thanks, Mr. Ignis,” the child replied, “but I don’t think I need to cry anymore.”

“Glad I could help,” Ignis replied as Rhys pulled back. “I’m here anytime you’d like to talk.”

As the child returned to his seat, the woman nearby whispered a soft “thank you” to Ignis. This whole exchange reminded Ignis of his earlier conversation with Gladio. Perhaps he would make a decent parent, after all. It was a nice thought, being able to settle down and raise a couple of these orphaned children with Gladio by his side, but that simply wasn’t a reality Ignis ever thought possible. His whole life, he never thought about his own future. Ignis had always been too concerned fussing over Noctis.

Though even now that the Prince was absent, Ignis still felt too guilty thinking about what he might want out of life. How could he be so selfish to think about his own future, when Noctis had none? For all Ignis knew, he might, himself, not even survive to see the world restored. He surely wouldn’t with his head in the clouds, that was for certain. There was no use in distracting himself with fantasies of what could never happen while daemons ruled the land. Until the prophecy would be fulfilled, Ignis needed to stay focused on the harsh reality of this life and continue dedicating himself to his responsibilities.

#gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #prompto argentum #gladnis #final fantasy xv #ffxv #my writing

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