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painless-innit-colourful · 3 years

Text

Invisible

Potions of invisibility grant the user the ability to disappear, functionally: the concealment of one’s self through magic, distilled into a draught easy to swallow. For better and worse, Tommy’s familiar with the taste.

It tastes sour, primarily.

Looking at the ingredient list, no wonder. Nether wart and fermented spider eye. Gross. There are some things a golden carrot just can't balance out.

It's such a disgusting taste he doesn't notice the shimmering feeling, instead focusing his attention on scraping a thin layer of translucent brown sugar-mushroom-spider ick off his tongue. Not until:

"Tommy?" "Y- Bleh- Yeah?" "Oh!" Tubbo waves his arms in a wild arc, smile growing, before his hand collides with Tommy's arm, and he picks up Tommy's wrist. "It worked!" "What do you- Ohhh..."

If he blurs his vision, Tubbo's fingers circle around nothing. If he looks properly, he can just about see the edges of his wrist, the lines of his shirt sleeve. "Dude, how does that work?" "Which bit?" "Clothes. My clothes didn't drink it too." "Dude, I dunno... My turn!"

They learn to spot the tiny signs of an invisible person. They learn to disguise them. Tommy tries to tackle Tubbo and misses completely, and both of them fall about laughing.

Call that a drug van success story.

---

He sprints past it, hoping they aren’t following, panic filling his bloodstream. He chugs the potion as he runs, drops spilling down his front, staining his navy coat with off-white shadows as he shimmers and disappears into thin air.

Please don’t see me, please don’t see me.

He stumbles into the shallow waters of the lake, wading - disturbing the water, too many signs, you're gonna be seen - towards Tubbo's tunnel. He takes three steps and slips under the surface, landing on his hands and knees on the tunnel floor, waiting, waiting- Where are they?

There's the sound of an arrow seeking its mark and hitting true, and for a split second Tommy sees an arm with deft fingers and a dark blue sleeve fall over the side of the entrance, and then the body is gone and shit shit shit-

Tommy sticks his head back out- Who was that? Wilbur? Tubbo? He feels the shimmering feeling again - "a quick escape", where are the others - and slowly drops back to the tunnel floor.

Make a decision, what if they find you, Little Laddy One Life? He walks away, opting to live to fight another day, hoping that his friends will join him soon.

---

Funnily though, while clothes disappear with the potion, armour doesn't. He doesn't know why; he's not smart enough to. And right now, as he yanks the shoulder straps of his chestplate tight, he doesn't really care.

"Stop!" They don't stop, voices mostly drowned out by the overwhelming sound of rushing water. Dream, his face also hidden, but by his signature mask as opposed to the magic of an invisibility potion, holds his hand towards Tubbo and tells him "I need the disc." Tommy crests the wreckage of the Community House, no longer attempting to stay hidden as the water thunders down around his ankles, pulling him towards the platform in the centre. It's a bizarre version of the Pit. It’s an arena. It's a stage.

"No!" He screams, as Tubbo takes half a step back towards the ender chest. Heads snap to his position, looking at the empty suit of armour that's just appeared beside and above them. Tubbo stutters something in quiet disbelief, and between that and the sudden attention, Tommy falters. If he took off his armour now, could he get out of there? Or would the same fate that once befell Wilbur catch him? The blame for this building is on him, after all.

He jumps in, landing on his feet between Dream and the cabinet of L'Manberg. He is caught in the crossfire of their questions: "Tommy?" "Is that Tommy?"

He shouts, and he screams, and he revolves like a merry-go-round, trying to keep his eyes on everyone, not trusting that his armour'll be enough to protect him from the sheer amount of enemies about. So many people hate him, he realises, it's 30 v 2. Technoblade would like those odds. Technoblade, who's standing beside him, not invisible because he went to get milk. He likes the protection; he thinks.

They don't listen. Tubbo keeps insisting he betrayed them all by teaming with Techno, that he betrayed L'Manberg, but they don't understand, he didn't have a choice, "You don't know what he did to me in exile." Tubbo has the disc in his hands, and without having an inkling of where Dream's eyes are, he watches him consider simply snatching it from Tubbo's hands.

"You're not gonna give him the disc." Tubbo looks at him like it's a dare, and why can't he see? Tommy's practically crying with the effort and exertion of watching his best friend betray him in slow motion, of being this close to his abuser, of being blamed for something he didn't do, of being beaten down every time he gets on his damn feet.

"I don’t need to prove myself to you. This wasn’t me. Trust me. Jesus— for once in your life, Tubbo, trust me." Tubbo's eyes are cold, his mind made up. What happened to us against the world? "I did trust you. Once. The first time all of this happened. And I won’t make the same mistake twice."

There's a little moment where time stops, and everyone draws nearer like a crowd at the coliseum, and Tommy feels his invisibility ripple slightly, warning him it's about to wear off. Who the fuck cares.

Tubbo takes a step towards Dream, and Tommy lunges to put himself between them. "Don't you dare." Tubbo's hand goes to his axe. "You betrayed me, Tubbo, you- Did you just-" Both of their eyes are on Tubbo’s weapon, when he puts the disc away, staring Tommy down plainly with his one hand returning to the axe at his waist, and the other taking out his shield. "I didn't betray you." His voice is level, all business. Okay then, Mr President.

"You betrayed everything that you'd built with presidents prior." Tommy's anger, and hurt, and frustration, and pain finally boils over, so much so that it's visible in the way he shakes as he brings out his axe. "You know what?" He bites into a golden apple, feeling its effects drown out the rushing water and the shimmering sensation of his invis. "You've got your axe up." Technoblade’s tone is surprised but light as he tells Tommy to make this decision wisely, but he’s already gone, his safety and conscience be damned. He throws himself at Tubbo, brandishing his axe as the pigman taught him, like he once practised with the brown-haired boy he’s swinging at, thinking You say I betrayed you? I'll show you a traitor.

Poetically, perhaps, it's less like a fight, and more like a dance. They are a whirlwind - a hurricane - clashing and blocking and pushing and shoving across the otherwise empty floor. Somewhere in the gushing water, Technoblade's bloodlust has seized him, and he's gone for the L'Manbergians and the festival-goers and the unrelated parties that came when they saw the destruction, and he's scattering them this way and that, but who cares about that?

They are not equally matched. Tommy shakes too much: there is too much of him vulnerable here, not just his mortality, something that neither invisibility nor armour can keep from being scratched and damaged. He's losing. He's quite badly losing, despite Tubbo's inferior armour and weapons and allies, and he leaps into the nearest watery wall, letting the Respiration helmet Techno made for him protect him as the water drags him under and away from his attacker. His best friend. He bites into another golden apple, his pleas swallowed by the torrent. He still hears Tubbo's shout though, permeating the water and being relayed through his communicator from wherever Techno is.

"Where are you?"

He pops back up, shaking and soaking wet and sees a familiar sight: an old friend, a brother - once - staring him down with death in his eyes from behind brown hair. He was wrong, oh so wrong, all those weeks ago: at once he is Schlatt, alone at the end of his days, and there's Wilbur, old pals who'll be the death of each other. No.

No.

"I didn’t betray you, you teamed up with the very person that destroyed us the first time!" He feels his invis shimmer one more time, and the timing is immaculate, really. Cinematic, one might say.

"I went for the discs— Tubbo, the discs— The discs were worth more than you ever were!" "No... Wh- Th-" The world stands still, and it feels so good, it's so good to finally say it, to watch Tubbo's face fall, his shield slipping from his hand, listen to the reactions around their little arena, watch as Tubbo shuts his mouth and yanks on the strap of his chestplate and lets it drop to the floor, leaving him defenceless and open to attack and wait- no- wait-

Mutely, Tommy’s gaze drifts skyward, and it should feel good because they know now, they know how he feels, but it's not, it's not good because that- that wasn't true. That wasn't right.

And he looks back at Tubbo, and finally, finally, his invis runs out, and he hopes it shows on his face, that he knows he's fucked up because Tubbo looks destroyed, and a shiver goes through him because he no longer looks angry he just- He just looks sad.

He takes off his helmet, breathing heavily from the ache and exertion, heart burning in regret.

‘The discs were worth more than you ever were.’

How do you fix that? For one crazy moment, he considers the invis again. Turning translucent and running, back to Techno- back to Technoblade who'd congratulate him on 'moving on' and tell Phil like he was proud and probably write that line on the fucking wall, how could he be such a monumental ass-

"Tubbo?" Their eyes meet. Tubbo says nothing.

"Give him the disc."

He looks bewildered, "You want me to give Dream the disc?" He says, the tiniest sliver of something they used to have peeking through, the bearest hint of kindness, and bless him, it's more than Tommy deserves. It makes him want to go invisible again.

He smiles softly, and it can't reach his eyes, but he pours every ounce of good left in him into it and desperately hopes it's enough.

"Yeah." And because he's fucked up, because he knows they can never go back from this: "I'm sorry Tubbo."

---

He's done it again, he keeps fucking up. Sam's hand is holding him down by the shoulder, firm fingers digging into him, keeping him from reaching Ghostbur.

He tried so hard. His throat is sore from not coughing. His muscles hurt from the pure tension and adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream, from his stubborn heart to the ends of his fingers and toes. He thought he'd gotten caught when he drank the potion in the waivers room, and his heart had been beating so loud that he'd thought Sam could hear it.

Yet, they made it. But it doesn't matter, because he pulled out the axe too early, and now he's busted, and Sam's gonna kill him or Wilbur's going to come back or both, and it's all his fault.

Every time he tries. Every time he tries to fix things, or do what's right, or have something for himself, it's taken away, destroyed and he's kicked to the ground. Every time.

It's enough to make anyone want to be invisible.

#and today's writer mood is: liberal use of italics #hell yeah!#so funny story: this was supposed to be a saturday morning ficlet #it ended up being a saturday afternoon fic #oh well lmao #dream smp #dsmp fic #crim writes #tommyinnit #tubbo #this was quite a lot of fun #please rb and comment/reply! it means a lot to have feedback #heaven knows we're all just waiting for validation :)#clingy duo

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theboredwritertm · 3 years

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"Look at you... goodness you're so cute" fic request with reader/Din, please? :D

His Reason

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: None, I don’t think. Like one curse word.

Word Count: 1,935

A/N: This is the first time I’ve ever written a reader insert fic, so I hope I did alright with it. Thanks for the request, anon! I’ll admit I struggled to keep the story in the same tense in some parts because of the POV. But I had fun! And I love me some soft!Mando. This is also kind of based on an idea I had for a multi-part fic, so I might include it as part of that.

Summary: Our boy, Mando, has just broken the Bounty Hunter’s Guild code, but with you currently calling Nevarro home, he can’t stand the thought of leaving you behind.

******************************************************

Din had absolutely no business dragging you into this.

He was the one who had fucked up. All he’d had to do was deliver the acquisition, just like any other job he’d done before. Only this one hadn’t been like any other job. One look at the tiny, big-eyed baby and he knew he would never be able to leave it in the hands of a bunch of Imperials. Not in good conscience. And if he was being honest with himself, a conscience was one of the few things he had left; a standard to hold himself to that hadn’t been given to him or expected of him by somebody else.

So, he’d broken the code; a code he had based his entire career on, that he relied on for his reputation, which up until this point had been practically spotless.

And now he was in a world of trouble and was somehow making a beeline directly for your door, babbling baby still in hand, and the weight of a bounty now firmly on his head, dragging along whatever stain he had earned on that once perfect reputation to taint your own. Yet, still, knowing all of this, he continued on the well-acquainted back streets to your home.

He’d known you for years, agreed to sponsor you when you’d finally decided to join the guild, had even put some of his own earnings towards your fees, and yet here he was, on a direct path to making you lose everything and all because of him. His selfishness. His need to be near you.

You’d settled in a small place on Nevarro to be closer to work, to give you a taste of what a less-chaotic life might be like in between jobs that involved chasing down dangerous fugitives. It had always given him the perfect excuse to appear on your doorstep, dropping by after collecting a bounty or picking up some new job from Greef. Never stopping by without a reason. That would be too obvious. Too needy.

That would give him away.

Yet, from the moment he had broken the code and taken back the child, he had known it would never be safe to step foot on Nevarro again. And the thought of never being able to see you again drove him to your familiar neighborhood.

As he stopped at your front door, he thought of what excuse he might use now and looked down at the bundle in his arms. He didn’t know a thing about babies. He needed someone to help keep this thing alive. At least that’s what he told himself – but what made him think you knew any better? Relying on some innate maternal instinct to kick in? You’d never had to care for any younglings, either, and you’d never mentioned wanting any, though it wasn’t exactly a conversation he had brought up with you. That topic hit a little too close to home. Because the thought of you having a child, of the two of you starting a little family of your own, was something he had thought about often in the rare, quiet moments he’d shared with you on jobs, when he’d allowed himself to daydream when you thought he might be asleep.

When you opened your door and smiled up at him like you always did when you saw him, he couldn’t deny the relief that flooded over him. Being near you always made him feel safe, a ridiculous concept given the size difference and his greater experience with weapons and fighting – he’d been the one to train you, after all – but he thought that maybe it wasn’t a physical kind of safety that you gave him. Yes, he was sure you’d lay your life down for him without hesitation, as he would do the same for you, but you made him feel safe in the same way the Mandalorians had when they’d lifted him through the doors of the smoking basement all those years ago. It was a feeling that everything was going to be alright. That he was looked after. That he might just be okay.

It didn’t take long for your eyes to drift down to the stolen package in his arms, but before you could so much as utter a question, he was pushing you back as he forced his way inside your home. With one quick glance down the street, he pushed the button to slide the door closed behind him.

“Uhh…what the hell’s going on, Din?”

You listen to the modulated sigh that huffs through his helmet.

Right. The excuse. He had been too caught up in thinking about you to even remember to come up with one.

He finds himself caught now between the usual pleasure of the way you say his name and the scramble for an acceptable excuse for bringing trouble your way. He looks at you, at the familiar curve of your face and your soft features, even as you frown up at him with eyes full of concern, and he’s suddenly reminded of his ‘why’; of his own personal reason.

“Something’s happened. How soon can you be ready to leave?”

Even as the words tumble out of his mouth, he knows he’s asking too much.

“Excuse me?” You blink up at him, confused and taken aback by what had almost sounded like a command.

His visor turns towards you in what you can only assume is a meaningful stare, but without seeing his face there’s not a lot of meaning to read. Yet, you had spent enough time with him to read his gestures. He means what he says. You don’t think there’s ever been a time where he hasn’t. In his arms the child coos. You glance down at it, getting a proper look for the first time. You’d never seen anything like it before.

“What did you do?” you ask quietly.

There’s no judgment in your tone, not that he had expected any, but there was a sharp curiosity as you bent down for a better look at what he was holding. Completely out of instinct, he hands the child over to you, surprised to find that you take it without hesitation. He watches you for a moment as you hold the baby up and pull it in close, and smiles to himself beneath his helmet at the way your face lights up when it gurgles happily.

You hug the child in close, sitting it on your hip in a way that feels oddly natural. “Look at you…goodness, you’re so cute.”

“The Imperials wanted it,” Din finally confesses.

The horrified look you direct at him is like a punch to the gut; confirmation of his own wrongdoings.

“You took it to them?”

There it is. The judgment he’d been dreading. Or maybe he was projecting, haunted by his own guilt at letting a child fall into the hands of people so evil. He fumbles for another excuse.

“I took it back.”

You stare at him, then your gaze drops and he wonders what you’re thinking, if he’s suddenly changed in your view; morphed into something monstrous beneath the armor. You had never seen him with it off, as was The Way, but he had taken it off in your presence many times before. He glances down at the strip of cloth you always keep tied around your forearm – a simple bit of clothing to the view of others, but to him a considerate accessory for, and constant reminder of, the many rendezvous you’d shared that never failed to escalate into a tangle of needy limbs and panting mouths.

“What did they want with it?” you ask, drawing him out of his thoughts.

“No idea.”

You notice the way his voice softens, his slightly hunched posture like he’s waiting for another blow. Your rejection, you realize. You try to slow things down in your mind and piece it all together.

“You’re on the run,” you guess, not a question but a calm realization.

He gives a single, silent nod.

“If you come with me, now, you will be, too. You’ll be forfeiting –”

Your sharp snort cuts through him and feeds a little more into that ever-growing guilt. You’re shaking your head at him and the rejection hits him harder than he was expecting, enough to make him realize the true gravity of his hopes.

“Whatever I’m forfeiting,” you tell him, “I gave it up the moment you showed up, Din.”

He had pictured all the ways that this could go wrong, and admittedly this reaction wasn’t one of them. He fights the urge to turn and leave, to take it all back with him out that door, to never bother you again. The thought is painful enough to keep him grounded. He remains where he is.

“Six years ago,” you continue, and he looks up, hopes renewed. “When we did our first job together. I think that’s when I knew what I’d be giving up.” You stare up at him, face soft yet serious, as you sway the baby on your hip as naturally as a nursemaid might. “For the longest time, I thought I wanted a life of peace, after everything I went through. Then you came into my life and I was willing to let go of that dream. Because I knew that if I chose you, we might not get that. And I’m okay with that.”

The room is silent. Even the child looks between the two of you, as if feeling the weight of the words being spoken, even if he can’t understand them. Din isn’t even sure that he does. He knows what he wants them to mean, but can’t allow himself to believe it just yet.

You step towards him – this soft, funny man who still managed to take you completely by surprise, and who you had slowly but completely fallen in love with, even if it had taken months initially for the internal armor to come down and let you in. Your hand comes to rest on his chest, right above where his heart beats under layers of beskar, tunic, flesh, and bone, and he wonders if you can feel how hard it's beating beneath your touch – how hard it always beats when he’s around you.

“You’ll never be able to come home again,” he warns you, looking around the space you had managed to make yours over the last few years. You chuckle and he looks back at you, and the gentle look in your eyes makes him wonder if he’s ever wanted to kiss anybody so badly in his life.

You shrug and look around at the simple dwelling – a house that had proven to be a convenient place to stay, but had never quite felt like home. You realize now, in his presence, why this is. “This place? It was getting a little cramped anyway.”

His own laugh rumbles through the modulator. “If you think this is bad, wait until you’re on the ship.”

“I’ve been on the Crest. It’s not so bad. Better company.” You grin up at him, and though you can’t see it, you sense that he’s doing the same, both struck by a sudden, inexplicable feeling of hope. He reaches out, finally, and brushes your hair back, melting in a totally un-Mandalorian-like manner when you lean into his touch.

He will think on this moment in the hard times to come, reaching back for a perfect memory to keep him grounded. But he won’t need it often. With you by his side, he feels certain he can make it through just about anything.

#the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian imagines #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagines #din djarin #the child

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alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 3 years

Text

all gone, all gone, all gone

part 2: the two of them are always walking me into the stormy weather

CW: discussion of a suicide attempt, implied emotional abuse, grief

This wasn't in my original outline and doesn't really further the plot but it's here for the angst. there's a tiny relevant plot detail if you squint. but if you skipped this one, you really wouldn't be lost.

Part 1 | AO3 | Masterlist

Cordelia’s heart raced as she entered Alastair’s bedroom. It felt like a terrible invasion of privacy, but the others were right: if there was any evidence of what he was doing with Belial in this room, she needed to find it. She made the trip over and told her mother and Risa a quick lie about him being pulled out of the city for Shadowhunter business. If the time came that she needed to tell them the truth, she would deal with it then. Slipping into his bedroom afterwards was easy enough.

Her anxiety was eased by the fact that it didn’t feel like her brother’s room. She could recognize all of his things: his small collection of political theories, his brilliant dagger collection, a single tapestry on the wall. However, it was quite rare to see a thing out of place in his room. He’d always kept things very tidy, almost unnaturally so. So perfect that it did not seem real. Now, his desk was a mess, there was some clothing strewn on his armchair, a book left on his nightstand.

It was wrong. It was all wrong. This wasn’t his room. It didn’t feel right, and if her mother or Risa came in, they would know it, too. She got started, first picking up the clothes around the room, then straightening the belongings he kept on his dresser. When she moved onto his desk, she remembered what she’d come to the house for in the first place. The reason James was outside, waiting for her in the carriage. She heaved a sigh and began to sort through and organize the papers on his desk. There were financial documents, a few letters of condolence, even an unopened letter from Charles Fairchild, who clearly still had not given up. Nothing that gave any hint of what Belial might be planning.

As she tucked the papers away into the drawer, she felt a note stuck to the underside of his desk. She pulled it away, finding an envelope with nothing written on it but her name. Her hands shook as she tore it open, her heart beginning to race again.

Dear Cordelia,

If you are reading this letter, I assume it means that I am gone. Unless, of course, you were snooping again, in which case I am bound to be quite upset with you. In the case of the former, however, I must apologize for leaving you so soon. I hope there will never need be a day that you read this letter, but this serial killer business is dangerous at best, and I cannot in good conscience risk my life without some hope that in the event of my death you will read this and heed my words.

She skimmed through the rest of the letter. In it, he detailed all of the things he’d never told her: the full truth about their father. He told her the things he did to him, the things he did to her. He explained Elias’ actions that he was not able to protect her from, though she’d never realized they’d happened at all. From Alastair’s perspective, he could see what she could not: how her father seemed to fall ill most often when she was happy, when she’d begun a new project, when she’d started to make a new friend. He never truly needed her help at all.

He explained it to her and told her that it would be her responsibility now to protect their sibling in ways that he would not be able. He told her what to do, what to look for, how she might be able to help. He apologized for this now being her burden to bear.

Why was it ever yours? she thought, tears springing to her eyes. It didn’t make any sense. This letter was clearly written before their father had died, and she was sure that Alastair’s deal was after. Not that Belial’s Alastair would ever leave a note, anyways. It was not written as someone who welcomed death but as someone who feared it. How was he even connected to the serial killer? How was he risking his life? Why?

She heard a noise from behind her and quickly tucked the letter away.

“What are you doing in here?” she heard in Persian.

She spun around. “Nothing, Risa,” she quickly replied, blinking away her tears. “He simply asked me to retrieve something for him before he left.”

Risa raised an eyebrow at her and shut the bedroom door. “Cordelia joon, what’s really happening? We used that ‘Shadowhunter business’ lie enough times on you when your father disappeared for days at a time; I know how to recognize it.”

Cordelia thought of the letter tucked in her pocket. She exhaled and sat down on the edge of Alastair’s bed. “He-” Raziel, could she actually say these words out loud? “He tried to kill himself. However, a Prince of Hell intervened, offered him a deal. He took it. He’s being controlled by him now, in some way, I think.”

“I see,” Risa responded. She’d been staying with Sona at Cornwall Gardens ever since Elias’ death, and being able to speak in her mother tongue again was a small comfort to Cordelia. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it.

“Are you… surprised?”

“I certainly did not expect it, but I am not surprised, either. What are you trying to ask, truly?”

“I just want to understand why he would do something like that, why he would- Right after our father’s death? Hadn’t we experienced enough tragedy? Shouldn’t that have been a good thing, for him? With Baba dead he could finally move on, be happy? Why would he-”

“Cordelia joon,” Risa said slowly, sitting beside her and placing a comforting hand on her back. “Your brother is a troubled person, he has been for many years. Not in the ways your parents spoke of it. He did not carry the stress of a boy becoming a man. It was different, it was the weight of many decades that could crush the strongest of shoulders, and his were very small at the time it was placed on his. Do not attempt to enter his mind too much; it will do you no good. Just know there was nothing in this world more important to him than you. Whatever led him to such a decision, he would not have made it without believing in some twisted way that you would not be affected by it.”

Cordelia began to protest, but her words were caught in her throat.

“I know. But we do not always think rationally.”

“He does.”

“None of us do, azizam. Not always.”

Cordelia thought of the letter in her pocket. “He didn’t need to protect us anymore,” she realized. “Not me, not the baby. Not with Baba gone.”

“Maybe,” Risa responded, “but you will drive yourself mad attempting to understand this. Perhaps you will be able find a way to break this deal he made with this Devil, and only then will we attempt to understand what happened, if only to keep it from happening again. And if instead we need to tell your mother the truth, I will be by your side.”

She only nodded in response. “I should- James is waiting for me. I need to finish cleaning, if Mâmân comes in, she’ll know something is wrong-”

“I’ll help.”

Both her and Risa took the next several minutes and tidied up Alastair’s room. Cordelia attempted to discreetly peek into the pages of his books and looked into his drawers, but she still found no sign of anything Belial-related.

As she readied herself to leave, Risa offered her one last thought. “Good luck, joonam. You are so strong, and as is your brother. Remember that.”

Cordelia gave her a sad smile. “Thank you for your help.”

She bid her goodbyes and hurried back to the carriage.

“That took a while,” James commented. “Did you find something?”

Cordelia thought of the letter. “No, not really. I- I had to clean his room.” Her voice broke with the admission. “That sounds so stupid. He just- He never leaves his room like that, or he didn’t, before-”

“It’s okay.” James signaled for the driver to take them back to Curzon Street. “Are you alright?”

Cordelia shrugged. They spent the ride in silence. When they arrived at the townhouse, the rest of the Merry Thieves were already waiting for them.

“Did you find anything?” Matthew asked.

She thought of the letter in her dress. The whole of it was solidly unrelated to the matter at hand, but the serial killer- “There was one thing. A letter. It’s not- He wrote it before our father died, but it mentions something about the serial killer.”

“Can we see it?” Matthew asked.

“No,” she said a little too quickly. “It’s not… There’s just the one line about it.” She sighed and pulled out the letter. “It says ‘this serial killer business is dangerous at best, and I cannot in good conscience risk my life without some hope that in the event of my death,’ etcetera, etcetera. That’s the only line about it. It was clearly written before our father died, but… I don’t understand. He wasn’t involved in the serial killer investigation at all.”

“Perhaps he was already working with Belial by then?”

“He wasn’t. He wouldn’t- He wouldn’t have worked with him before the deal, and this was certainly before it.”

Thomas seemed like he was about to speak, but Matthew spoke first. “There’s still a possibility,” he said gently. “If we could read it, perhaps-”

“No! I already said that you couldn’t! And it doesn’t make any sense for him to have been working with Belial before my father’s death!”

“We’re only trying to help, and it’s not helpful for you to be hiding-”

“I’m not hiding anything! It’s a letter he wrote to me about our father and what I would need to do to protect our sibling from him in a world where he was still alive and Alastair wasn’t, alright?” She didn’t know when the tears began to fall. “So, no, you can’t read it, and, no, I don’t think he would have risked his life, and our sibling’s safety, without sufficient motivation. There must be another explanation.” She folded the letter again and put her head in her hands.

“Perhaps you should go,” James suggested to the others. “We’ll meet tonight at the Devil and decide where to go from here.”

She listened to them leave, but she didn’t look up.

I'm finishing my finals this week & next so hopefully I will updating my fics more frequently once that's over! i've also made a playlist for this fic! it's here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4KaoQmHAoEFMkZH5Fd23gM?si=1357d801920f41c5

taglist (lmk to be added/removed): @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs @littlx-songbxrd

Part 3

#alastair carstairs #cordelia carstairs #tlh #the last hours #fanfiction #fanfic #all gone fic #cw suicide #cw emotional abuse

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oxzebi997 · 3 years

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Day 1 Jango Fett

It was a long and unusual few months. Jango Fett hadn’t really considered what being a genetic template would hold exactly, but somehow the cheek swabs, blood extractions, and skin samples made it all feel a little less grand than the contract had originally sounded.

Jango was aware of a few details of this process, these clones of him would age at twice the usual rate of a human, they would be trained to peak physical performance, with a few modifications for heightened abilities, nothing superhuman, just, better than his own average, and likely better when pushed to the brink. But he also knew, these were soldiers. They were not made to be men, boys, sons- stop that now. If that droid attack on Naboo last year was anything to go off, then these soldiers stood no chance at all.

:read more:

Don’t get close. Don’t look at them. They’re tools. He reminded himself as he walked past the tall columns of nearly finished fetal clones of himself. Clones. That’s all. It was almost tiring to avoid looking at them, but after a few months of tests and samples, back and forth across this blinding white facility-city every day, they became part of the architecture, background objects always in their place. It made the walk easier. Cleared his conscience to know that even the Jetiise ordered the creation of clones like they were droids. At the very least, he was no worse than they were.

“Good morning, Jango.” Taun We’s voice was soft, eerily calm, and stoney, “Are you ready for your exams?”

“Same time every day.” He chuffed with a slight smile, never sure if any of the Kaminoans could smile at all.

“You will be most pleased with the Alpha’s progress.”

A hot bubble suddenly expanded in his chest and it seemed for a moment that every star in the galaxy burned so brightly he couldn’t see.

“Done already?” He knew his voice gave him away, though he did try to maintain his composure, the last thing he needed was Taun We reporting that he had somehow gotten his health compromised.

“Nearly, Nala Se reports that your specialty clone will be completed by this evening.”

The day flew by, Jango hardly noticed as he quickly obeyed every request as if his life depended on getting into that laboratory before this one clone was finished. Decanted. Born. His mind a bit foggy, day dreaming of his new future, as he was politely led down the curved metallic halls to a lab that was intentionally kept remote from the other cloning areas.

Experimental Lab A7-3

There he was, one of a few strangely round jars set in the wall, suspended in some kind of blueish, artificial amniotic fluid. Jango’s head practically spun, he hadn’t missed anything yet, this one specific clone, was worth all the indignity, any humiliation, and every conflicted thought he’d had since he arrived on Kamino.

“He’s… not ready?” He spoke quietly, moving already to the tube which held his greatest prize, gently as he dared placing both hands to the glass and wondering if the little boy within knew who it was just outside his strange wet world.

“Oh, no. My research suggests that you humans value being present for the … birth… of your offspring.” Nala Se spoke coolly, as collected as any of the others but somehow it was almost as though, at least in this moment, she was trying to sound a little more emotional. “I waited for you to arrive to begin the process.”

It was quick, but also it seemed as though time was moving at half pace. The pod lifted off its bearings and the liquid inside sloshed ever so slightly, still his stomach tightened and he nearly feared for the clean floor in front of him. A careful mechanical arm flawlessly opened the little tube, a comically large pair of softened rounded forceps reached within the container and delicately pulled the contents into the air.

Ignoring the warnings of the Kaminoan scientist next to him, Jango pulled the tiny boy into his arms. A little heavy, sopping wet and sound asleep, hair that he knew would curl lay thick and flat atop his little round head.

A small fire burned in his fingers as a device arm with ends that looked like electrodes, and must have been, reached forward and barely touched the baby’s chest, back and forehead.

The sudden, but very light jolt, caused the infant to gasp, cough, and scream. The wailing was unlike anything Jango had ever heard. It was painful to listen to and yet it was the most wonderful sound he’d ever encountered. He held the child close to his own chest and hummed some old song he’d long since forgotten the words to.

He had known most of his life what he would do here and now, long before the idea of a clone, even before he’d worn his armor the first time. Here and now, as his world turned on its head and his chest tightened and warmed with every shrieking breath:

“Olarom, Boba.”

You can support me by reading on KoFi and AO3

#clonetober2021 #star wars tcw #star wars #clones #jango fett #boba fett #kamino

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jingabitch · 4 years

Text

A Deal with the Devil

SUMMARY: You’re not sure whether the demon in front of you is real or a hallucination, but you don’t really care.

RATING: Explicit

PAIRINGS: Hoseok x reader

WORD COUNT: 6.6k

A/N: For the demon!au prompt for the BTS Ghostie bingo challenge.

Thank you to the lovely betas who looked over this @lunarlxve and @sungiesangel, and to @jkeuphoriadreamland for listening to me whine about the backstory!!

This room – damp, smelling like mold, cold. It was all you knew. All you’d ever known. Tomorrow would be your first and last time leaving, to be publicly executed in front of the entire city.

The unfairness made you want to scream. Instead, you sat by the window and sobbed. You didn’t understand; you’d never understood. The people who’d come to give you food and water had just said that you were here for the protection of yourself and the kingdom, but you didn’t understand why it had to be you who got locked up and then butchered like an animal.

The sound of the heavy door scraping against the ground as it opened made you turn around hopefully. For what though, you didn’t know. Maybe for the father, you’d always been told you needed to be here to save, to take his turn saving you?

“Oh, it’s just you,” you said dismissively to the new entrant, turning back to rest your chin on the windowsill. You weren’t exactly in the mood for company today.

Hoseok tsked at you. “That’s no way to greet someone.”

You didn’t bother to respond. Surely you could be forgiven for your lack of manners on the eve of your death. Besides, it was just Hobi. He was your best (and only) friend, and you were sure he would understand, given the circumstances. You didn’t quite know where he came from, but he’d been around since you were a child, probably just a couple of years older than you.

Hearing you sniffle miserably, he drew closer cautiously. “Hey,” he said tentatively. “You okay?”

“What do you think, Hobi?” you snapped.

“Someone’s in a mood,” he said lightly.

“Well, someone is going to be burned at the stake tomorrow, so unless you have something that can help, save it,” you snarled.

“It seems like today is your lucky day, then,” he almost sang.

“What are you talking ab—” you started, turning to face him, before screaming at the sight you saw in front of you. In the time that you had looked away from him, he’d somehow sprouted horns and wings. Massive, black leathery wings now bracketed his body, taking up almost all the space in the small room.

Your eyes, panicked, shot up to his, discovering that his warm brown eyes had changed. He now gazed back at you with eyes a deep emerald green, with black slit pupils. Panicked, you fell onto your knees sobbing, not even feeling the pain of the impact reverberating through the joints.

“Please,” you begged. “Please, spare my soul, demon.” Your hands were clasped in front of you as tears slid down your face.

“Y/n, please stop screaming.” Hoseok – or the demon wearing Hoseok’s face – held his hands out placatingly, coming towards you. He was speaking to you the way one might an injured animal, but far from being soothed, the sight of the demon coming towards you terrified you further, and you scrabbled backward until your back hit the wall, cowering away from him.

Realizing that this wasn’t working, Hoseok folded his wings behind him and got on his knees to be on your level. “Y/n, please, please stop. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You’d stopped screaming, but you were still terrified, pressing your shoulders back into the wall so hard that you could feel the indents of the rough stone wall almost cutting into your skin. Still, Hoseok recognized this as progress.

“I’m just Hobi, okay?” he said, using your childish nickname for him. You’d given it to him the first time you met him when you were five, and he was (you’d thought) seven because you couldn’t pronounce his name properly, and it had stuck.

“Who—” you paused to swallow hard, then tried again. “What are you?” Your voice trembled, as did your hands, fisted in your skirt.

He grinned. “Can’t you tell?” he asked, opening his wings slightly with a flourish. Startled, you jerked back and hit your head on the wall. Realising that this wasn’t really the time for jokes, he folded them back against his back contritely. “Sorry,” he apologized, shuffling closer on his knees. “Are you okay?” He reached for you, wanting to cradle the back of your head and check that you were okay, but your eyes flared in terror at his outstretched hands, and he dropped them by his side.

“Okay,” he said, sitting on the ground cross-legged. “I’ll just stay here, okay? Will you please listen to me now?”

Pressing your lips together, you managed the tiniest of nods.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he started. “In fact, it’s the opposite. I want to save you from the stake.”

“But—why? And how?” You were losing your mind, you were sure of it. “And, are you really Hobi?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

You blinked. “But Hobi was a little boy when I met him.” That tiny detail was the only thing your frazzled mind could hold on to.

“I came to you as a child and manipulated my appearance, so it looked like we were growing up together.” He shrugged.

“Oh, right, just like that,” you said in a mocking tone, laughing sarcastically.

Instead of answering you, he transformed in front of you, a puff of smoke dissipating into the air to reveal the boy you remembered from your childhood. “Do you believe me now?” he asked in a high-pitched, childlike voice, blinking up at you.

“Why are you telling me all this now?” you asked faintly.

“I told you, Y/n-ie. To save you.” He transformed back into his original appearance and shook his wings out.

You pulled a skeptical face. “Why does a demon care what happens to me?” You’d never left this room, but one of the few books you had access to was the Bible, and you knew that demons were evil, manipulative creatures.

“Y/n, come on. I’ve been your friend all your life. Is it so difficult to believe that I want to help you?”

“Well, I don’t even know why you were hanging around me all this time, so yes,” you said, folding your arms across your chest.

Hoseok huffed. Where had you gotten all this attitude? You’d been stuck here all your life. You truly were your father’s daughter. “Fine. If I explain everything, will you let me help you?”

Standing, you brushed the dirt off your clothes. “Fine,” you sniffed, walking past him to the one chair you had in the sparsely decorated room. “But only because it’s not like I have anywhere to be.”

Even in the face of everything going on in your life, you found it in you to sass him. He wanted to kiss you as much as he wanted to slap you silly, and thankfully, if everything went according to plan, he’d get to do both. Standing, he turned to face you, perched on your chair with your back straight and chin up. He could see the princess in you, and imagine you seated on an ornate throne, dressed in the most lavish of gowns rather than the slightly frayed linens you wore now.

In another life, that would be your fate. But in this one, you were his. He knew he had you in his grasp, he had spent a lifetime (well, your lifetime) getting to know you. You were backed into a corner now, and as much as you tried to pretend, he knew you had nothing.

“I was sent to you,” he started.

The laughter bubbled out of your chest. “Wow, my guardian demon!” you mocked.

“If you’ll let me finish,” he gritted, annoyed. He knew you were hiding your fear behind bravado, but it was still irritating as hell. He heard your father had been the same way, though, laughing in the face of the enemy who had vanquished him, telling him he would never amount to anything, that he would damn the kingdom. He’d turned out to be right, but still.

You subsided, sulking. The Hoseok you knew had always been so jovial, constantly smiling, and laughing. This demon standing in front of you could not be more different.

“God and Lucifer had a bet,” he explained, “over whether or not the humans would put you to death. God thought that people would be good and kind, not treat people as a means to an end, all that good stuff. Lucifer… has a very different take on humanity,” he said dryly. “I was sent to make sure you were delivered to your execution.”

“And yet you are offering to save me from the clutches of death?” In your distress, your tone turned snippy, reverting back to the formal language that you so rarely had the need for, cloaking yourself in your royal lineage.

“Yes, my lady.” Two could play at this game. He would indulge you for as long as you wanted.

“You would disobey your master? Why?”

He stepped closer, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. "I have acquired a certain fondness for you over the past fifteen years, my lady.”

“Is that so?” you murmured.

“Of course, my lady. How could I not, after watching you blossom into such a beautiful woman?” His rakish grin as he ran his hand through his hair would be your downfall, you just knew it.

Instead of answering, however, you redirected the conversation, although the colour that appeared high on your cheeks showed your discomfiture. “And what will happen if I am not at tomorrow’s execution?”

“Lucifer will lose,” Hoseok replied simply.

Your sharp gaze let him know that you were not amused by his non-answer. “The kingdom will be turned upside down to find you. As long as you remain missing, the rule of the king will not be secure.” His second attempt was far more informative.

“So civil war, then.” Your voice trembled as you said it. You knew that the kingdom had just emerged from decades of internal conflict. Your disappearance would throw it back into disarray. Could your conscience handle it? Wasn’t the death of one prisoner girl a just price to save thousands of innocent lives?

Hoseok could see the hesitation in the way your hands clenched anxiously into fists, wrinkling the linens you wore. As respectable as your altruism was, it was wholly unnecessary in this case.

“Y/n, do you know why you were locked up here? Why do you have to be killed publicly tomorrow by burning?”

Your gaze snapped to his. “Of course,” you replied immediately. That had been the question on your mind ever since you were aware of your surroundings when you’d wanted to go out and play, and the servants and guards had told you no. You parroted their words now to the demon standing in front of you. “It’s for my protection and the protection of the kingdom.”

“Yes, but why?” he pressed. “Why you? How does you being here accomplish that?”

It felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room. He was pressuring you, voicing aloud the questions that had tormented you, kept you awake at night, staring deep into your soul and forcing free all the secrets you didn’t dare acknowledge for fear of what it would cost you.

“Stop it,” you hissed, attempting to remain composed, to show him that you weren’t affected by his sinful words. But despite your royal blood, you were untrained in the art of decorum, and your distress was visible in every inch of your body, from the clench of your jaw to the set of your shoulders and the tears that you couldn’t force back.

“Your father,” he continued, undeterred, “was the king. He was overthrown and given a traitor’s execution by the man who usurped him, the current king.”

“Stop it!” you cried, abandoning all pretense of nonchalance as you threw yourself from your chair, pressing your hands against your ears. “Stop it, stop it, stop it,” you sobbed. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

“Y/n, I understand that it’s difficult, but you must know all of this. If you choose to die a martyr for your people tomorrow at dawn, that is your decision. But you should know why.” He bent to you, placing his hand on your shoulder as he sought your gaze.

You glared at him with teary eyes. “Why?” you demanded. “Why do I have to know? What am I supposed to do with this information? I’ve been locked in this room my whole life, for God’s sake!” you screamed. Hoseok sat on the ground in front of you, holding you close to his chest and rocking you back and forth.

“Shh,” he consoled you as you wept, letting you cling to him as you had so many times before. No matter what it was – a scraped knee, a scolding from a guard when you’d gotten too curious about the outside world – he’d been the one who was there for you. As he was now. The familiar embrace was comforting, reminding you of the years you’d spent together when his words failed.

“Okay,” you finally said, sniffling as you raised your head off his chest to look up at him. “Tell me.” With your jaw clenched and your chin determinedly raised, your birthright shone through your face.

Nodding his assent, Hoseok took a moment to sort through his thoughts before he spoke again. “You are the daughter of the old king, and any son you bear will have a claim to the throne stronger than the king’s own heir. This is why you have been trapped here.”

In a softer voice, he continued, “This is why you are to die a traitor and a heretic.”

“A traitor?” you repeated in a tremulous tone. “A heretic?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“They would drag my name through the mud for having been born?” Your voice rose, but he met your gaze unflinchingly.

“Yes, my lady.”

“And what if I do not do as they will?” you asked.

“There will be civil unrest here, my lady. And… the bet will remain undecided.”

“What does that mean?”

“The devil will not win, because you were not executed.”

“So by leaving, I will be saving the people?” you asked, raising your brow.

“Not exactly, my lady. The devil will not win, and control over the kingdom will not be transferred to him. But…” he paused for dramatic effect.

“But what?” you prompted impatiently. Now was not the time for theatrics, you thought.

“The people will have shown, even if you are not executed, that they will not follow His will. He will no longer watch over them.”

“The kingdom will be forsaken,” you murmured, the cogs in your mind spinning rapidly. At least if control was transferred over to Lucifer, there might be some form of guidance.

“Yes,” he confirmed with a nod.

“I—I have to think about it,” you said, lurching to your feet as you backed away from him. You paced the entire length of the room restlessly, your hand resting against your forehead. Hoseok watched you, sitting on the ground like the little boy you could still remember him as. His lanky frame looked borderline ridiculous sprawled out on the ground like that.

Although he looked like he was watching you lazily, without a care in the world, Hoseok was actually paying close attention to you. After so many years by your side, he could basically read your mind, and he knew just what to say to sway you.

“Are you really thinking about sacrificing yourself?” he asked, propping his chin on his hand as his catlike eyes followed you around the room.

“No… maybe… yes?” Your tone grew increasingly confused, trailing off quietly.

“Haven’t you done enough for them?” he wondered in a deceptively light tone, sounding like he was just musing to himself instead of trying to convince you. He didn’t want to scare you off, after all.

“What?” He knew you would hear him and was satisfied when you refocused your attention onto him, your eyes wide.

He shrugged, looking embarrassed that he’d been overheard. “I mean, you lived your whole life for them stuck in the tower. Do you want to die for them too? When they’ve done nothing but hate and curse you all your life?”

Your chin wobbled. “They cursed me?” All this time, you’d believed that you were a hero for sacrificing your freedom for the protection of the people.

Hoseok’s green demon eyes filled with sorrow for you. “Y/n… you had to have known. What were they supposed to say about the bastard daughter of the old king?”

“If I’m a bastard, why am I here? My children wouldn’t have a claim to the throne anyway.” Your brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Your parents’ marriage was annulled after your father was executed. They said the marriage was made under false pretenses.”

Shocked, you sank down on your bed, your hand blindly reaching for the mattress before you lowered your body heavily down onto it. “They took everything from me,” you murmured. Your birthright, your freedom, and, tomorrow, your life.

“They don’t have to,” Hoseok said, watching you carefully. Would you fall into his clutches now?

“What’s your plan?” you asked quietly, looking up at him. Your expression was open now, trusting and curious, and he felt the triumph of victory curling in his stomach.

“I’ll take you away, of course.” It sounded simple, because it was. There was just one catch.

“And then what?” That wasn’t it, though.

“The world is huge, Y/n,” he said, spreading his arms wide for emphasis. “We can travel around the world. No one will ever find us,” he promised with a wink.

“Really?” Your eyes filled with hope, your back straightening slightly. He could see your mind filling with dreams now of seeing all the places that you’d only read about in books.

He nodded, smiling tenderly at you. Demon he might be, but your childlike wonder soothed his damned soul.

“Wow,” you marveled. He was promising you everything you’d ever wanted, tempting you with your deepest secret desires. Just like the snake in the Bible. As you remembered that, your mood plummeted. There was definitely a price to pay for all of this.

“What’s the catch?” you asked cautiously.

The sweet smile turned into a sinister smirk. You’d always been a smart cookie, he thought. Of course you would realise that none of this came for free.

(You forced yourself to ignore how sexy that expression was on him.)

“The devil will probably look for you,” Hoseok admitted. “He only wins if you’re actually executed so he’ll want to deliver you back here.”

“For fuck’s sake, Hobi, you should have started with that!” you snapped. “How can we run from the devil himself?!”

“No, I have a plan, trust me!” His eyes widened earnestly, the picture of innocence. You glared at him. How many times had he said that right before he got you into trouble? He’d always disappeared right before anyone came in and caught what looked like you alone in the middle of a mess.

Come to think of it, was any of this real? Was it all just a giant hallucination dreamt up by your desperate mind? The guards and servants had never acknowledged Hoseok’s existence, instead indulgently smiling at you and calling you an adorable child when you told them about your adventures with him.

“How do I know this is real?” Your voice trembled. What if you were just crazy, the isolation having driven you mad?

“I don’t know how to convince you,” Hoseok admitted. “But does it matter?”

Your gaze shot up to him. Of course it matters, you wanted to snap. But really, did it? If it wasn’t real, you’d be slaughtered tomorrow, a pawn in a game you’d never even known about. But if you believed, you’d have one more night of peace. Of hope.

Your shoulders slumped as you sighed, your face buried in your hands. Why did you have to be the one caught in this situation?

“Fine,” you conceded, mumbling the words into your palms. “What’s your plan?” The words were said without enthusiasm.

“The devil is… lazy and distracted,” Hoseok said, trying to put it delicately. In truth, Lucifer was so preoccupied with chasing his erratic impulses and desires that he barely concentrated on anything too difficult, preferring to let his minions (like Hoseok) take care of it. “It’ll be easy for him to find you as you are because your soul is so pure, it kind of glows.” You were basically a beacon for the devil.

“And I suppose you know how to stop it from doing that?” you asked dryly.

“Of course.” His eyes glinted. “We just have to tar your soul.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Your brow arched. “You don’t have a lot of time.”

Standing, he stalked with purpose towards you. His pupils narrowed into slits, unsettling demon eyes focusing on you like a predator on its prey. Coming to a halt right in front of you, he bent down, bracing his hands against the mattress on either side of where you were sitting. You swallowed and looked away, leaning back slightly. Unfazed, he followed you, his forehead almost touching yours as he stared straight into your eyes.

“I don’t need a lot of time,” he breathed, the warm air falling on your lips.

You exhaled shakily, clenching and unclenching your fists in your linens. “Hobi…” Your voice was weak and unsure, fading like the light streaming in through the window as night descended upon the kingdom. “What are you doing?” He’d never taken such liberties with you before.

“You know what I’m doing,” Hoseok asserted. His voice wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be. He knew he was right, could hear it in the quickening of your breath. You might be innocent, having been stuck here all your life, but your body knew and reacted.

This would be easy.

“Is this—” you paused to gulp “—part of your plan?”

His right hand lifted off the mattress and slid along your bare calf, right under the hem of your linens. “What better way to ruin your innocence than bedding a demon?” he asked, one side of his mouth quirking up in a half-smirk. His hand went up, up, past your knee, to the side of your thigh. “What do you say, my lady? Will you run away with me?”

Your decision took only a split second to make. “Fuck it,” you decided, before leaning forward the fraction of an inch that was necessary to press your lips to his. Your hands settled around his waist, but you quickly realized that for all your bravado, you had no idea what you were doing. Just as you were about to pull back in embarrassment, however, Hoseok made his move, the hand that wasn’t caressing your leg reaching up to cradle your jaw as he tilted your head upwards to make it easier to deepen the kiss.

“Good girl,” he growled against your lips, the hand holding your chin travelling down to your neck. Gripping it tight, he pushed you back so that you fell on the mattress, crawling onto the bed and hovering over you.

“Hobi,” you gasped as he started trailing kisses over your jawline, sucking a livid bruise into the sensitive patch right under it. Your hands scrabbled helplessly at his sides, not sure what to do.

“What is it, love?” he muttered against your skin.

“Hobi, I don’t know what to do,” you confessed.

He stopped, lifting his head to stare down at you. “Don’t worry,” he told you, his tone full of dark promise. “I’ll show you.” He drew his hand up from your thigh to your hip, taking the hem of your linens with it. Your lips opened as you drew in a shuddering gasp and he grinned down at you before crushing his lips back onto yours.

Another time, probably, he would kiss you deeply and savagely, all teeth and tongues and raw need, but for now, he held himself back, reining in his beastly urges out of consideration for your inexperience. The slow, gentle kisses he traded with you instead, running his tongue along your bottom lip and feeling you shiver underneath him, were fun in a different way.

He was a demon, after all. He loved stealing your innocence.

His fingertips ghosted across your lower belly, down to your core. You closed your eyes tight and bit your lip as he stroked his fingers across your slit, gathering up the fluid that had leaked from you, but couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped you as you felt the pad of his finger brush over your clit.

“Y/n… open your eyes for me,” he compelled. You obeyed helplessly, watching, transfixed as he knelt astride you, sucking the fingers coated in your essence off. “You taste so good, love.” The sheer enjoyment in his expression as he tasted you made you clench involuntarily.

“Good girl,” he praised you. He shucked his shirt quickly and then started unlacing his breeches, while you watched with wide eyes. You lifted your hands to his abdomen, then paused right before you made contact, unsure if you were allowed to.

Hoseok quirked his eyebrow at you, his hands pausing their work. “You know, the whole point of this is that you’re allowed to touch,” he commented dryly.

You flushed, your hands drawing back slightly in your embarrassment. Rolling his eyes at you fondly, he took your hands in his and guided them to his abs. “Don’t be shy,” he encouraged in a softer tone as your eyes widened.

“Wow,” you breathed, trailing your fingers down his abs. You’d never felt a man before, so warm and solid, all hard edges and ridges. Soon, you reached the edge of his breeches, and you took over his previous task of undoing the laces as he smirked down at you. While he’d been fast and purposeful in his movements, you took a leisurely, unhurried pace, happy to take your time uncovering the mysteries of his body.

When you were finally done, you raised your gaze to meet his, and he stared back at you, silently asking what you were going to do next. Emboldened by what you perceived to be a challenge, you hooked your fingers in his waistband and pulled his breeches halfway down his thighs. His length sprang free, and you stared at it in wonder before looking up at Hoseok again, this time unsurely.

“Go ahead,” he said, nodding, as he tried to hold back his laughter. Virgins were so cute, and you were the sweetest one, because you were his, all his, because you knew him and wanted him, instead of as a result of some trickery. He sucked in a breath as you brushed the backs of your fingers gently across it, then took it in your hand hesitantly. The surface was smooth, but hot and hard in your grasp, and you were instantly entranced.

He nodded encouragingly at you and, emboldened, you started stroking him lightly. “You can go harder, love, it won’t break,” he said, startling you slightly.

When you did as he asked, he let out a low groan, throwing his head back. “You’re a natural, love,” he said in a low, raspy voice, making heat pool in your core. He wrapped his hands around your wrists gently, pulling you away from him, before tugging your linens over your head. You looked away and swallowed, embarrassed by your nudity, and Hoseok tutted, gently holding your jaw and turning you back to face him.

“Don’t look away from me, love. You’re beautiful,” he told you before kissing you again, one hand bracing his weight above you while the other slid down your body to your core. With his leg, he nudged yours apart, exposing your intimate flesh to his touch. He circled his thumb over your clit while slowly pushing one finger into you.

“Shh,” he soothed against your lips when you started to cry out in discomfort. “I know it hurts, love, but I have to prepare you, okay?” You’d never heard Hoseok speak to you this gently before, and you settled your hands around his hips, holding on tight for comfort.

He slowly stretched you out, with one finger, then two, his thumb never ceasing its ministrations on your clit. Slowly, the discomfort was replaced with pleasure, tightening in your lower belly. You brought your knees up to bracket his body and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Hobi, please,” you whimpered, holding on for dear life. It felt like you were building up to something, but it was too big and new and a little scary, if you were being honest.

“It’s all right, love, you’re doing so well,” he said, pressing kisses to your lips, your jaw, your neck, paying special attention to the spot where he’d left his mark. You threw your head back, your hips following the rhythm of his hand as you bit your lip to hold back the gasps and whispered moans. His erection felt like a brand against your hip, and you could feel him squirming slightly, his body impatient despite the honeyed words he whispered.

The slick sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you echoed throughout the room, reaching a crescendo as you approached your climax. “Good girl, so good for me, you’re going to cum all over my fingers and then on my cock, aren’t you, love,” he encouraged, keeping up a filthy litany that was endlessly titillating to you, until with a shaky moan, you came, clenching down hard on his fingers as you shuddered under him.

He patiently worked you through your orgasm, only withdrawing his hand when you slumped back onto the bed, breathing hard as sweat beaded on your brow. With the hand covered in your essence, he reached for his own hard length, stroking himself to take some of the edge off as he regarded you. So beautiful, delicate and vulnerable under him, and his, all his.

Hooking his arms under your legs, he pulled them further apart before releasing them. You knew to stay in the position he’d manhandled you into, your arms still locked around his neck. “I’m going to fuck you now, my sweet princess,” he whispered against your lips as he positioned himself. “I’m going to fill you up and stain your beautiful, pure soul. Would you like that?”

“Yes, yes, Hobi, please,” you begged in a breathy voice. You meant it, too. What good was purity and goodness when the God you’d been taught to worship had made a bet on your life, thinking you so insignificant and unimportant that it was a game to him? You wanted to stick it to him, and to everyone else who’d betrayed you before you were even born, punishing you for the sin of existing. Hoseok had offered you an outlet for all your hatred and anger, but it was you, all you, who’d harboured those feelings for years, who’d silently cursed those who imprisoned you when you’d done nothing wrong.

“Please fuck me, Hobi,” you whined before pressing your lips to his in a kiss, something you’d picked up remarkably quickly – but then, like your parents, you’d always been intelligent. He smiled against your lips as he slowly started pushing into you, taking his time and letting you get used to it. He’d prepared you with his fingers, but he was longer and thicker than even three of them together, and there was some discomfort as you were breached for the first time.

You whimpered, blinking back tears as he shushed you with soothing touches and soft kisses, keeping himself under rigid control as you rippled and flexed around him while you tried to adjust to the intrusion. “You’re doing so well, love, just a little more,” he cooed, rocking his hips gently as he brushed some hair off your face.

Eventually, he was fully seated inside you, and he paused to let you catch your breath. “That’s all of me, love, you did so well taking it all in.” He kissed you gently, biting back the urge to thrust, although he couldn’t quite keep himself from grinding his hips slightly for some delicious friction. “You feel so good, so hot and tight around me, so perfect,” he whispered, panting slightly. His breath came out in puffs against your temple, tickling you.

“Hobi…” you groaned, your hands raking down his back until you couldn’t anymore, having reached the point where his wings extended from his body.

“Fuck,” he panted, rearing back slightly to thrust into you. That was a sensitive spot for him, and you’d found it without even knowing. As he pushed his way into you again, his pelvis bumped your clit, causing you to moan as your legs wrapped around him.

“Hobi, that feels good,” you whined. In response, he did it again, and again, building up a gentle rhythm. The sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room together with your combined moans and pants, a dirty, beautiful, sinful symphony.

“Y/n, you’re so good, shit,” Hoseok swore, his nails digging into his palms as he clenched his fists. He was skating too close to the edge, and he knew, even without asking, that you weren’t there yet. He was thousands of years old and had bedded countless women; he would not be unmanned by a human, and a virgin at that.

“Hobi,” you moaned in response, your fingers brushing across the base of his wings again. You opened your eyes and marveled at the sight of your only friend and now lover, his jaw clenched and teeth gritted as he concentrated. His wings had spread open over the both of you, blocking your view of the rest of the room. It felt like there was only you and him, and nothing else in the world. And, in this moment, that may well have been the case.

“Fuck, you need to cum soon, Y/n,” he said in a strained voice as he reached down to rub at your clit with his fingers. He was less gentle now, forcefully bucking into you like he couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t even noticed the change in his tempo, but you had, and you loved it.

“Hobi, harder,” you begged, your hips rising to meet his.

His teeth bared in a snarl in response. “Yeah?” he panted in a voice gritty with need as he did as you asked, never letting up on your clit. “If you want me to fuck you harder, my lady, you need only ask.” The sound of the barren wooden headboard hitting the stone wall joined the sounds of your fucking.

“Are you close, love?” he asked, dipping his head back down for another kiss.

“Yes, Hobi, yes, yes,” you cried, tightening your arms and legs around him as you hurtled towards your climax.

“Cum for me, love,” he commanded, and almost on cue, you did, your mouth opening in a silent cry as your back arched. Your expression as you were stuck in the throes of your climax was beautiful to him, and so were the sounds of your helpless breaths and choked moans that streamed from you.

The feeling of your core tightening around him, squeezing his length, drew his own orgasm out, and he shuddered over you, his head dropping so that his forehead rested on your shoulder as he came inside you, filling you up with hot ropes of his seed. You stroked the back of his head as he groaned through it, your eyes half-lidded with contentment.

When he was done, he slumped over you, his wings falling to the bed like every part of him was exhausted as his softening length slipped slowly out of you. He tended to you with soft kisses and whispered nothings until you both caught your breath before rolling onto your side.

“So,” he prompted, causing you to turn your body so you were facing him. “Do you have any regrets?”

You giggled. “Why would I have regrets?”

“You know,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “You’ve ‘damned your soul’ and all that.” He didn’t do air quotes with his fingers, but you heard it in his tone.

“My soul was already damned.” It was true, you knew. Even the powers that be had decided your life was unimportant enough to risk on a gamble, and you were condemned on this earth for the crime of being born to a deposed king. “My birth was a mistake.”

“No,” Hoseok said firmly, cradling your face as he leaned in to kiss you. “You were not a mistake. The politics that takes place outside the walls of this tower have nothing to do with you. The civil war was not your fault, and your imprisonment is yet another sin committed by the imposter king.”

“Okay,” you accepted, snuggling close to him. You acted nonchalant now, since you were high on endorphins and sleepy from your physical exertion, but he knew that it would take you time to truly understand what he was telling you. It didn’t matter – he would be there with you every step of the way.

“So what’s the plan, Hobi?” you asked, your words distorted slightly by the jaw-cracking yawn you couldn’t hold back.

Hoseok leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. You really were too cute. “Well, we’re going to take a nap for a little while,” he said, hugging you close. “Then you’re going to get dressed in the robes they had prepared for you to die in, and we’re going to scare the shit out of your father’s murderer.” After a lifetime dressed in what amounted, basically, to undergarments, the clothes that had been prepared for your execution were the only clothes that suited a lady of your rank, and you weren’t leaving without them.

“Okay,” you said, your voice dipping slightly towards the end as you slowly succumbed to sleep.

“Then, we can go anywhere you want, love. Travel the world, see the great wonders, eat all sorts of delicious things.” Tenderly, he brushed your hair behind your ear.

You drifted off to sleep easily – perhaps too easily, for someone who had just damned the kingdom to civil war and caused them to be cast adrift from the embrace and protection of God. Yet you didn’t feel bad. After all, who was truly evil? Was it the demon come to steal a virgin from the tower? The harlot who was in bed with a demon, who’d chosen her own selfish desire to live a free life over the protection and safety of the people – people who, in a different life, would have been hers? Or was it the man willing to sacrifice an innocent child for his own power? The people willing to turn a blind eye to justice for stability and riches? The God so detached from the lives of those who worshipped him that he was willing to turn a blind eye on the suffering of innocents?

For the first time in your life, you truly didn’t care.

If you liked it, please leave a comment and/or reblog. It goes a lot further than a like. Thank you!

#hoseok smut #btsghostiebingo #btswritingcafe #kwritersworldnet #mikrogalaxynet #smutcentralnet #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #bts fic #bts smut #hoseok x reader #bts scenarios

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Satisfied, Part 47

First

~~~

She hummed to herself as she wandered through town. She really wished they would have trusted her enough by now to just tell her their hideout location. Even if they were right to be suspicious, they really had no reason to be. She didn’t think she’d be alive if they found out she was working for the bats, so why…?

Marinette was pulled from her thoughts when she saw the henchmen. She calmly put her hands in the pockets of her dress as they approached. Fighting back or running away was useless, considering it was about ten on one and she was still trying to remain mostly unknown, so why bother?

“Hey, fellas!” She chirped.

They didn’t smile or respond, but she was used to that.

What she wasn’t used to was them forcing a bag over her head without giving her tranquilizer. She gave a tiny, confused frown as she was hoisted over someone’s shoulder and carried out into the night.

She felt her feet touch ground and smiled as she pulled the bag off of herself.

A glance around made the difference obvious. Joker wasn’t there. She resisted the urge to pump her fist in the air at the tiny victory.

Harley nearly tackled her in a hug and she rolled her eyes, but still hugged back. “Woo… almost time,” she said with as much cheerfulness as she could muster.

Harley seemed to brush off her hesitance as nerves, as she pressed a kiss to the top of her head and said: “Don’t worry about it, darlin’! Everything's going to plan!”

“Right, so… what is the plan, exactly?”

The Rogues went still. All eyes slowly made their way to Penguin, who gave a small shrug. “Hm... guess I never told her… oops?”

“I thought we all agreed she was trustworthy!” Said Scarecrow.

Penguin gave a small shrug. “Information is power.”

“Not when you’re keeping it from your allies!” Hissed Catwoman.

He shrugged as if to say ‘agree to disagree’. “Joker was right, though, she’s not cut out for murder. Maybe we shouldn’t involve her.”

Crap. There was no way in hell that she was going to screw up this close to the end… she raised her eyebrows teasingly. “Aw, Penguin, is that you trying to care about me? That’s so sweet of you!”

His eyes narrowed slightly. He knew that she was just doing it to annoy him into including her but that didn’t mean it didn’t work: “Of course not! I just don’t want a liability on my team!”

She hummed lightly. “Mhmm, sure. But Joker agreed I wasn’t a liability, so…”

“How would you know that?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Marinette smiled. “So, what’s the plan?”

Poison Ivy smiled and walked over to pull out a handy chalkboard. She drew a crude map of the layout of the Wayne Mansion with a bunch of squiggles in the middle of the courtyard to represent all the people. “Right. At eleven-thirty you’re going to portal us inside the house because that doesn’t change. We crash the party and after that… how many portals can you maintain?”

She hesitated. “For more than a few minutes? One set.”

Harley nodded slowly and circled the two gates. “Alright, then we need you to hold up portals by these two main exits so people will have a hard time escaping.”

“Escaping… what?”

Poison Ivy beamed. “We’re going to assassinate every person in a position of power.”

That wouldn’t work unless… She went pale. “But… it’s a masquerade. There’s… how will you tell?”

Please, please, please don’t be saying what she thought they were saying --.

“Everyone there has power of some sort, either politically or economically.” Scarecrow explained. “And if the past few years have proven anything it’s that they aren’t using it right. So: anarchy.”

“But anarchy doesn’t just work like people think it does! Sure, there will be no real laws for a little while, but it’s temporary! It’s a power vacuum! Eventually someone will come along and grab everything.”

“Exactly!” Said Penguin. “And since everyone else will be rather… indisposed, it’s ours!”

Hands came up to rest on her shoulders.

She swallowed thickly and looked away. Her mind found its way to the question he’d asked her when they’d been playing cards. ‘What is it you need?’ She’d given him the answer ‘power’ and this was his appeal to that.

And she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t tempting. She’d never be hurt again, she’d never be weak again. But she wouldn’t give into that temptation. She couldn’t. Couldn’t even pretend to. Because they would give power to her if she asked them to.

And she didn’t know what she’d do.

She pushed his hands away and took a step back. “There are going to be kids at the Gala.”

“Don’t worry, we have a plan to get them out,” said Catwoman, who walked over and slung herself over Marinette’s shoulders. “Why? Scared for your little boy toy?”

Her face warmed and she sighed. “A little, but also for the actual kids. How are we getting them out?”

The woman shrugged against her. “Manually. We’ll all pick them up, give them a bit of money, and send them on their way before we open fire.”

Marinette cringed. “You’re going to ‘send them on their way’? They’re kids! They won’t survive!”

“At least we’re giving them a chance to,” said Scarecrow.

“Besides,” added Penguin. “If they want they can join us as henchmen! Most of the street kids end up that way, anyways.”

She felt bile build in her throat.

She’d hoped, somewhat naively, that with a little bit of work and guidance they could all be good people. Sure, they all had done some horrible stuff, but she’d thought that they were mostly victims who had been manipulated by people who knew what they wanted and how to get it -- like Joker and, to a lesser extent, Penguin. But now… she was forced to confront the fact that, beyond whatever had happened in their lives to make them snap, they were ultimately smart people. They were perfectly aware of what they were doing and were absolutely okay with it. Took joy in it. It would take theoretical years of work for them to ever be fully rehabilitated, and even then she had her doubts it could work.

But then Harley reached out and poked her cheeks up into a smile and gave her such a kind look that Marinette managed to hold onto a scrap of that hope. There had to be some little pieces of humanity left in them, she’d seen them poke through -- they’d been angry when their henchmen had hurt her, they’d decided to spare the children (even if they had to justify it like that). There was still someone in there, some conscience begging to be listened to. And that was enough. She could work with that.

She at least had to try.

Marinette brought a smile to her face, taking Harley’s hands in hers. This was all if the bats won, of course, and though she hoped they would...

She figured she should have a backup plan in place. And if the Rogues won, there were some people who would need her help far more: “Can I have a mansion to help the kids? I don’t like the idea of just leaving them to fend for themselves.”

Harley smiled and squeezed her hands. “Of course! I’m sure Penguin can give you a nice one in his territory.”

Penguin opened his mouth to protest.

The woman’s eyes went cold. “I’m sure Penguin can give you a nice one in his territory,” she repeated.

He let his mouth fall closed and nodded his agreement.

Marinette couldn’t help but laugh. Then she pursed her lips as she mused aloud: “Right, so Penguin is doing this for the money and/or power.”

“Of course.”

“I assume Scarecrow is here for the fear.”

“And the elite status, really,” Scarecrow waved her off.

She nodded. “Noted. Ivy is here for killing the rich.”

“Woo!”

“Riddler…?”

He shrugged. “Is bored.”

“Right. Sorry about that. Wanna do a puzzle together in a minute?” They exchanged smiles and she continued: “Catwoman wants money.”

“Money is good,” the woman agreed.

“And Harley is here for Joker. But why is Joker doing it?”

Harley shrugged calmly. “Why does he do anything? For Batman’s attention.”

“Doesn’t he always have it? The guy could probably walk through town and Batman would show up.”

She gave her a sad smile. “It’s never enough.”

~~~

Taglist

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#timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #satisifed #maribat

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the-hotter-otter · 3 years

Text

Strangers || ATEEZ Fanfic

Seonghwa X OC

Mafia/Crime AU

3.7k words

Part 3 || chapter list || previous chapter || next chapter

Hyejin can’t fully commit to Seonghwa’s tempting offer, meanwhile Hongjoong continues to keep secretes.

Warning: blood, minor death, injury, violence, knife use

Angst, fluff, smut, cussing, violence, death

note: ayo shit will start moving soon I promiseee, I seriously don’t know where this story is gonna go but fuck it we’ll see.

No pov

Hongjoong wasn’t at all surprised when Seonghwa came into his office late at night. He could tell there was a lie in between the lines Seonghwa spoke when he confronted the two last week. Being best friends for years with a bit of blood, death and guns on the side really did bring people together.

“What’s her name?” Hongjoong asked, he couldn’t stay mad at Seonghwa. Hongjoong knew punishment wasn’t necessary on the eldest who was already racking his brain on it, as a leader he could tell when further discipline was needed and when it was best to leave it to their own self conscience. “If she’s staying here, I should at least know.”

“Lee Hyejin,” Seonghwa said, cursing the weird feeling of familiarity he felt after saying her name.

“Lee hyejin?” Hongjoong quirked an eyebrow, he’s definitely heard of the name from somewhere, he just couldn’t pinpoint where. “Sounds familiar.”

Seonghwa merely nodded, somewhat glad that Hongjoong didn’t directly question him. “I’ll take responsibility for her.”

Hongjoong liked the sound of that, though it didn't change the fact that he was overlooking one more person. “That means a lot of things hwa, keeping her in line, taking care of her, watching her and protecting her if shit goes down.”

“She isn’t 5.” Seonghwa sighed, “I’m not spoon feeding her.”

“But she knows.” Hongjoong reminded him, “and she knows she has you wrapped around her finger, people take advantage of that.”

“I can always shoot her.” Seonghwa said as if it were so simple.

Hongjoong looked him up and down, silently judging the older one. Hongjoong sighed, he wasn’t exactly up for this kind of conversation at 2:30am, “Dramatic much... Aish don't waste the bullets, the suppliers have been shitty to us lately.”

“What I’m saying is you won't have to worry,” Seonghwa said, “you’ll barely notice her.”

Hongjoong looked Seonghwa up and down, “you want her to stay that badly?”

Seonghwa was taken back by the other’s awkward perspective, “yes? There really isn’t any ulterior motive.”

Hongjoong gave a dawdled nod as he chuckled, “I’m playing with you hwa. Bring her in, I’ll let the others know of our latest addition.”

Seonghwa was about to step out of the office when Hongjoong suddenly spoke up again, “don’t forget about that task I gave you.”

Seonghwa gave a sharp nod, “I'll see to it by the end of the day.”

“Dont fuck up!” Hongjoong noted loud enough for the other to hear, he could imagine the rise he got from it. Deep down he was just joking, after all, Seonghwa never fucks up.

Hongjoong enjoyed the tease he gave his best friend, more often than not, the former was in tight situations with serious consequences, loosening up was often the last thing he’d find himself doing.

His smile was short lived when he suddenly felt the vibrations of his phone, and it wasn’t from the bold red one that was sprawled on the desk with the many papers. His face dropped drastically upon realizing that someone was calling the phone hidden deep in his pockets. There was only one person who’d be ringing.

Mazaki Meiyo.

“Yes?” Hongjoong cautiously spoke up, his eyes darting around the office. He got up and opened the door to check if anyone was giving his conversation a listen.

“They moved the deal.”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose, “when?”

“In an hour. You know just as well as me that this isn’t going to end smoothly.”

“Your deals rarely end well.” Hongjoong scoffed bitterly, he pulled the phone away from his ear when the other line went dead. He had to go now if he were to make it in time, he couldn’t afford to be late, not for these kinds of deals.

Hongjoong pushed off his seat and swiftly buckled his hidden artillery onto his thigh and around his torso, making sure that his best weaponry was in close reach, ready for whatever conflict he was about to get into. Pulling the hood over his masked face, he checked the location Meiyo had sent him.

The leader eyed the pile of paperwork that was due in a matter of days, he dreaded the inevitable all-nighters we’ll have to pull because of it.

As Hongjoong left the household in silence, he turned his main phone off completely and stowed it in a hidden compartment. No one was going to find him tonight.

Hyejin pov

I stared at the phone screen in dismay, the loan shark has been after my ass for the debt I’ve yet to pay. I've been trying, but even after much struggle I only possess half of what I owe.

I hated to take that offer from Seonghwa, the money from that deal would have covered my debt and rent from my residence long enough for me to make something out of a scrubby part time job, he just had to ruin me once more.

Then again, what other choice do I have? I leaned back on the wall of the alleyway, I don’t know anyone in this world. I was forgotten years ago, Seonghwa is the last person I’d go with, but he’s also the only one.

My eyes drifted to the tall buildings around, they blocked the sunlight from ever entering these shabby alleys with large bins and locked deserted gates and doors. I met with the gazes that had been watching me for a while now, in a building a few blocks away yet still in perfect view, two middle aged men who most likely reeked of cigarettes and alcohol admired me from their apartment which could easily come off as an abandoned building left to collect dust and grime.

I squinted my eyes as I felt my vision start to give into fatigue, unrealistic hues of blue and neons started bouncing around. Every now and then, the migraine in my head would dust my eyes with a cloud of grey that blurred my sight ever so slightly. I sighed as I began seeing four instead of two weird men. I tried to refrain from focusing on anything, the lack of good sleep and food had me feeling all sorts of murky effects.

Their stalkerish behaviour had been creeping me out for the past few days, despite it, I never saw a proper reason to leave the little spot I've claimed for rest. Plus, the odd duo hadn’t made any advances that had worried me thus far.

The day continued, and the city had been busy as usual. Bikes raced down the side of the roads and paths, scaring the uptight mothers into a slur of curses. Teenage girls carelessly skipped around in their tiny croptops, powdery make up and flaunty shoes with boys their parents have no idea existed. Cars drove with their temperamental owners honking and anything and everything, then there were the workers who were either strolling around after their shifts or sprinting in swerves around people in effort to not be late.

Yet here I was sitting in a slump not so far from the hoards of people, absorbing the natural noises of the city that started to sound more like blaring megaphones instead of white noise. 9pm had crept faster than I expected, truthfully I wasn’t sure whether or not to go through with Seonghwa’s offer. I still had a chance to reconsider, perhaps I could deal with the information for money? After all, a controversial topic surrounding Seonghwa would no doubt bring in a big sum.

I shook my head from the ludicrous thoughts, there was no guarantee in shady business, ever. It's a far-fetched plan, and the fact that I didn't have a name to my face meant I was that less convincing.

Though I knew this offer would mean gambling my safety and if I were to stretch the possibilities, my own life. I still wasn’t 100% on board with the whole moving in with Seonghwa and whatever team he’s apart off, neither could I fathom the thought of that sinful man working with people, and that’s without mentioning his sudden change in attitude towards his victims.

It was yet another reason why I’m so reluctant to associate with him, because this isn’t the Seonghwa I was familiar with, he was a stranger, and no one is at ease when they’re affiliated with someone they don't know, especially when that person had guns, knives and all sorts of deadly possessions in their grasp.

I groaned as I got up with a hazy mind. I looked up and to my suprise the stretchy men were back to watch me, it started to feel uncomfortable now. “Nice knowing you too I guess…” I keep my voice to a murmur. Soon I found myself heading to the meeting spot.

My heart feels enraged with regret, and it’s impossible to ignore. There was a mere few minutes till the clock struck 9, I can get out of here now or never.

The Central Train Station was quite grand. With multiple steps just to get to the entrance, neatly trimmed gardens surrounding the place and ancient pillars that held up the building. It was one of the older buildings that turned into a modern utility.

“Fuck...” I muttered under my breath, “no, fuck this.”

Before I could think I was already speed walking to get the hell out of here. I had pride, I could at least preserve that after losing everything else.

No pov

Blood coated the blade and splattered across the floor and walls of the office, the books on the shelf were drenched and soaking up every bit of red fluid. If only the man had just followed through with the deal, he wouldn’t have ended up dead.

“What a hassle.” Seonghwa sighed, as he wiped his blade clean on his way out, though it was satisfying seeing the horrors painted on his face as Seonghwa taunted him, revenge for the knife he flung at Hongjoong during their last deal not long ago.

Seonghwa analysed the slash along his shoulder area, it wasn’t serious at all but it sure did look ugly and soaked his dress shirt in a dark red, in the midst of the tension it felt numb but as his heart rate came down he could slowly feel the stinging pain emitting from the open flesh. He let out a relieved sigh after knowing that none of his own blood had ended up dripping anywhere.

If it weren’t for the man’s sleeping family in the other room, Seonghwa could have easily finished it off with a bullet but he had to move silently. In turn, it cost him when the man felt fit to fight back with his own blade.

Seonghwa felt Hyejin was partly accountable for his injury. 20 minutes was a bit of a rush for a mission like this, but he had no choice if he was going to make it to the station in time. There was a chance that Hyejin wouldn’t even show up, and that chance made seonghwa unsteady and tense.

As he pulled up to a red light he felt a distant memory unfold, one that brought a sense of discomfort.

Laughter bubbled up in the front of the car, toothy smiles that twinkled despite the gloomy rain outside. The lull of the music had been turned down for a while now as the soft chatter continued.

“Hyejin, I told you I don’t need anything for my birthday.” Seonghwa insisted once more with a light chuckle, his one hand on the wheel while the other tried to hold her hand back. He watched in helplessness as she clipped the dangling toothless charm around the rear mirror of the car, her little laugh escaping her lips as it dangled between them.

“It’s cute! I’m telling you, you look just like him.” Hyejin insisted, “and that’s not even the best part.”

Seonghwa couldn't help but smile when the toothless unclipped in half to reveal a small photo framed inside, the details were minuscule but clearly contained the two of them on one of their more memorable dates.

“Ya, this looks expensive, how much did you spend on me.” Seonghwa diverted the conversation as he observed the matte black of the green eyed dragon.

“It wasn’t much, don't worry hwa.” Hyejin patted his hand, “I’ve got something else, it's more personal since I made it myself.”

“So you have something else now?” Seonghwa sighed, though his stupid grin betrayed the annoyed look he tried to show.

The red light cascaded from red to orange to green and before hyejin could whip out the other half of her gift seonghwa sped off, “fine! I’ll accept your gifts, love.”

Seonghwa sneered at the Toothless charm he had yet to take off, if anything it became part of his car’s identity, making it slightly easier to navigate the garage of small black cars, specially on the days when all the vehicles would be together.

Seonghwa had pulled to a slow stop in front of the station, hiding the charm was his first and foremost priority, Hyejin would most definitely recognize it.

As he was about to yank the chain off, the corner of his eyes caught a sudden shadow appearing at the window.

Completely forgetting about the charm, Seonghwa halted in his seat, his hand already clasped around the gun latched onto him. It wasn’t until a hesitant Hyejin peered through the window did he relax his grip. On the other hand, Hyejin was feeling anything but relaxed, especially after seeing the bloodbath of a man in the driver's seat.

“So you’ll take my offer?” Seonghwa asked as if it wasn't already obvious enough, Hyejin scoffed. Her response was seen through the way she snuggled down into the passenger seat in a strained sigh of relief after being situated on the hard concrete for days on days.

Throughout the ride Hyejin had kept a careful observation of the roads they had been speeding across, if worse came to worse, she could make a run for it.

Hyejin silently and subtly glanced around, the car itself hadn’t changed at all, not even the peppermint scent it gave off from the gum Seonghwa had been loyal to for most of his life, though it was currently heavily overpowered by the stench of blood. Hyejin didn’t want to know how and what got him that gruesome injury.

However, the most prominent and unusual feature that had still existed in the car was the all too familiar charm that dangled and swung around underneath the rearview mirror. The dragon's bright green eyes and toothy smile didn't go unnoticed, especially since Hyejin was the one who got it for him years ago.

Hyejin had the decency to stay silent about it, the stiffness of the air was already far too overbearing, there was no need to intensify it’s sour atmosphere.

“It’s not just me who lives here.” Seonghwa brings up,

“I figured.” Hyejin sighed, she had heard the many rumours over the years of how a certain group had been overturning the criminal world with unrivaled skill and accomplishments, they became big in the industry. This group of young, skilled men made a name for themselves and it became one feared by many, ATEEZ.

Though it wasn’t just their skill that had made them the talk of many circles, it was the people within the group, the majority of which already had a reputation high on their shoulders. Hyejin had heard of the promising sniper who had joined their ranks, the insanely witty dealer who knew how to smooth talk his way to riches, the stealthy man who snuck into and claimed dangerous possessions without a single sound.

Then there was the hitman who possessed the skill of 100 men, he was a young and promising lone wolf who had been rumoured to have joined ATEEZ.

Hyejin didn’t want to believe it was Seonghwa, in fact she didn't want to hear about anything related to Seonghwa, but it wasn’t possible when she was involved with loan sharks and illegal exchanges for the money she was in dire need for. Of course, because of her interactions with others, Hyejin was aware of Seonghwa’s growing skill and relevant changes, it disgusted her to say the least, how much better he had gotten at taking lives.

However the failed deal from last week confirmed her denial to be wrong, Seonghwa was well and truly closely associated with a group, and that group was no doubt ATEEZ.

“Dont try anything stupid.” Seonghwa warned, Hyejin rolled her eyes slightly, “I’m serious, I see the way you're memorizing these roads.”

Hyejin froze momentarily, she eyed Seonghwa who had removed his eyes from the road after stopping at a red light. Hyejin had forgotten how sharp he actually was, the intellectual from highschool still existed within him.

Hyejin got the chance to really see how much Seonghwa had changed, even underneath all of that stained blood and light smears of dirt, she could easily tell that his facial features had sharpened immensely, he wasn’t the same soft faced charmer that made highschool hearts throbs on a daily. If anything, Seonghwa now resembled a high class heartbreaker with a body count worthy enough for a world record.

Of course some things don't ever change, like his lush lip and stunning eyes that stared back at her. Before the awkwardness could settle, Hyejin looked away, subconsciously glancing at the toothless charm. Seonghwa noticed the glare she gave it, his hands went to take it off but was ultimately stopped by the swat Hyejin gave.

“What’s the point of taking it off now? You had years to do that.” Hyejin raised an eyebrow.

Seonghwa did not respond and merely sighed as he began moving on the road once again. Hyejin was taken back when they suddenly verged off into a bush area, what was a simple scenery of grass turned into a splatter of greenery. Trees towered high, vines and dense bushes had taken over, it was an untouched forest and they were driving right through it.

Hyejins eyes squinted in growing concern, she wanted to believe they were just passing through to get to another town, but her panic only continued to rise as they got deeper into the maze of nature. Her eyes glare at Seonghwa who seemed to have already expected her to build up doubts.

“Jump out and you’ll be as good as dead.” Seonghwa warned, as he quickly glanced at her stray hand reluctantly reaching for the handle.

“Where are we going Seonghwa….” Hyejin glowered at the driver who was rather unfazed. Even when the subtle sound of a knife being drawn was heard, Seonghwa didn't look away from the road.

The driver pushed his head back against the seat as soon as he caught sight of the fast approaching knife. With the blade a finger's length away, Seonghwa sighed, “I’m not gonna hurt. We’re going to the house, so put the knife down and have a little faith.”

“Who the hell lives in a goddam forest?!” Hyejin hissed in a raised voice, her eyes teared up from staring so intensely into his side profile.

“Put the knife down or we’ll both die.” Seonghwa lowered his voice, and Hyejin did not comply. The male halted the car to connect his eyes to hers, in one swift and unnoticeable movement, he grasped her wrist tightly, causing the knife to be let loose and drop to the pit of the car. Hyejin suddenly let a sharp exhale out as Seonghwa pinned her hand down in between them. She cursed her hazy headaches for causing the drastic disadvantage against Seonghwa.

“Stop panicking, we’re almost there.” Seonghwa said as he began driving once again, Hyejin didn’t attempt to squirm out of his hold.

“Your a fucking joke,” Hyejin hissed, “I’ll never put faith in you, not after all the shit you’ve done to me.”

Soenghwa pinched his lips together at the indirect upbringing of her family’s murder. He wasn’t about to smooth that mess out now, it’ll require a calmer Hyejin and a better situation to explain.

Hyejin tried to compose herself, but she knew the only way to soothe her panic was to see proof of what Seonghwa was saying.

As they pulled into the driveway of Horizon, Hyejin's tense shoulders melted into the seat. Seonghwa scoffed as he got out of the car first. The jerking of his head signalled for her to get out, hyejin sneered at the man, “give me a damn second will you?”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes before heading inside momentarily, most likely to check if anyone was still up in the early stages of the night. Hyejin took the time alone to get a good grasp at what she had just gotten herself into.

A house, full of dangerous men, in the middle of a forest and a single long ass road back to civilization.

This wasn’t ideal at all, and Hyejin started to regret this more than ever.

As she took in short breaths her eyes trailed back to the rear mirror charm. All of a sudden, curiosity had her fiddling with the Toothless till it unlatched. She furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of the blank frame. It wasn’t that she was disappointed, it was merely confusion.

“But you keep the charm…” Hyejin glared at the Toothless that was once a gift of love. In the back of her mind she wondered if her other gift was still intact.

Hyejin could worry about that later. Right now, she needed to stay sane and alive, she knew well enough that she would never be guaranteed a way out of death's grasps. Relish in the house and slowly pay off her existing debt? Yes. Get comfortable and trust that your back will be safe in a distant place full of criminals? Hell no.

#ateez #ateez ff #ateez fanfic #alternate universe #crimefiction #kpopidol #kpop #ateez seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #choi san #Seonghwa #seonghwa ateez

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oncelers-panties · 4 years

Text

Boulevard Boy

Ao3 Link

There he was again. Same place, at the usual time, and just as infuriatingly captivating as always.

Mr. Greed shuffled in his seat, tilting his head a little to get a better view of him, trying to do so in a way that wasn´t too obvious- then, right away, wondered what he was trying to be so inconspicuous for. Nothing strange about his behavior, not one bit. Still, what if the other were to notice his stares? It would be awkward, wouldn´t it?

He put a stop to this train of thoughts, as to not have the same internal conversation he´s already had several times the last few days. This has been going for far too long, and God, it was getting embarrassing. All this inner turmoil, because of what?

Because of some guy with a shabby old guitar.

He had just appeared one day; infiltrating Mr. Greed´s territory and stealing his inner peace. Before that, the idyllic boulevard with its cozy benches and rows of trees that provided shade during sunny days was his place of refuge. Here, he found the peace of mind he was often denied as businessman climbing up the career ladder, which is why he visited it whenever he could during his breaks. He didn´t enjoy spending that precious time among his colleagues and employees, since they were always up for idle chatter which took away from his much-needed relaxation. And so, he grew into the habit of having his lunch beneath the beeches, watching as people went about their daily lives and doves fought over crumbs of bread on the ground.

Then, about two months or so ago, there was a change in scenery. A young man appeared, playing and singing songs to passerby for pocket change. Street performers could often be seen at that place, but this one caught the businessman’s attention. Why, he couldn´t tell, as nothing about the man seemed particularly striking at first. Cheap and plain clothes that were often of poor taste- heavens, who in their right mind still wore a trilby in this day and age? A face pretty but not too memorable, a body too bony for Greed´s taste. A voice that was pleasant to listen to, but probably wouldn´t go down in music history. And yet, Mr. Greed could not take his eyes off of him whenever he graced the boulevard with his presence, froze in anticipation every time the man drew breath in-between songs, got hypnotized by the way his slender fingers danced over the strings of his instrument. Eventually memorized the days and times of the week the man came out to sing, leaving his workplace in a hurry as to not miss him.

It all felt terribly odd to him. Greed wasn´t one for love at first sight; in fact, he wasn´t one for love at all. Both because of his impossibly high-standards no one seemed to be able to fulfill, and because he was of the opinion that his job was too time-consuming for such pleasures. Partners always turned out to be more trouble than they were worth, and he had often been told that he was insensitive and unromantic, so at one point, he had stopped bothering. Where, then, did these fantasies come from, of fleeting touches and saccharine whisperings that followed him from the early morning hours all the way into the night, when he lay awake in his lonely bed? He would try to get his mind off of them, yet like particularly annoying bugs, they´d always come back to swarm him.

Disgruntled, Mr. Greed convinced himself that it was just a phase he was going through, a sudden need for intimacy born from lower instincts that would pass as quickly as a common cold. That belief was shattered the very next day, when the performer appeared again, carrying a violin this time, and gave the best damn performance of Lili Marleen he´s ever heard. Awestruck, he froze in place, eyes glued to the man´s lips as his jaded expression grew uncharacteristically soft and his heart fluttered along to each note emitted by the instrument. There suddenly was that overwhelming desire to get closer, just marveling from afar not being enough anymore. He felt the need to map every inch of the other´s face, get near enough to bathe in the warmth of his blush and have his lashes brush against his cheek.

When that feeling became too much, Greed abruptly got up, body acting by itself. However, he completely disregarded the cup of coffee he had placed onto his lap before, which fell down and almost splattered its contents all over a woman that was passing by at that moment. She managed to jump aside just in time to not get drenched in the hot drink, and gave the businessman a deadly glare, hissing a furious watch it before taking off, ignoring all of Greed´s attempted apologies. He looked down to find that the legs of his slacks and tips of his shoes were covered in coffee, which made him snap out of his trance and swear profusely as he tried to clean if off with some tissues, only smearing it further over the expensive material as a result. He had to go home to change that day, coming back late for work.

Even that experience did not keep him from watching the street performer closely, always keeping a safe distance at first, eventually allowing himself to go near to tip the man a few dollar bills for his performance. In that short moment, he tried to capture him as best as he could, noticing the tiny freckles that sprawled over his cheeks like stars, eyes that reminded him of the forget me-nots-that used to bloom by his childhood home, lips that curved into a small, grateful smile…

The businessman felt himself heat up, unsure whether it was from the warm summer air or the flush that appeared on his face. He left in a hurry, feeling like a fool, yet overtaken by a deep delight that lasted throughout the entire day and the morning after.

From then on, Mr. Greed would throw money into the man´s open guitar case whenever he performed, just so he could walk by him again and steal another glance at that sweet face he had ironically thought of as forgettable not too long ago. Promising himself that it would be the last time, yet always coming back for more. After all, why shouldn´t he? He did enjoy the music, and the singer looked like he could use the cash. Greed thought about how he´d use it to buy himself a particularly fine meal at a nice restaurant, or a new set of clothes, maybe it would help him pay for rent, keep a roof over his head for another month… perhaps, when making those purchases, he´d even think of the generous businessman who provided him with that money.

Rather than ponder about it, Greed could, of course, just drop the charade and talk to the handsome singer. But what was he even supposed to say? “Good day, stranger. Recently, I´ve been having extensive fantasies about running away with you to rural France and moving into a small cottage, where I will proceed to worship and make love to you until late into the night, then wake up every morning to the sight of you sitting wistfully by the windowsill in nothing but an oversized button-up. Oh, and I also think your singing is neat.”

No, even if he were to come up with something tamer, he´d just make himself look ridiculous. The stranger would look him in the eye, probably with an awkward smile, and politely tell him to get lost. He´d say something like…

“Excuse me?”

Mr. Greed almost jumped a little, turning his head. Without him noticing, someone had taken a seat next to him, and he was suddenly looking into a pair of light-blue eyes. Dumbfounded, he stared at the stranger in silence- his mind taking a while to process the fact that it was none other than the singer he had come to adore so much. And while he was busy sorting his thoughts to get a grip on the situation, the other just smiled, lifting his hand and giving a small wave.

“Hi there.”

Once he managed to overcome the initial shock, Greed immediately sat up straight, hands running over the creases in his jacket to flatten them. After spending a moment sitting with his mouth open like a fish out of water, he finally managed to gain some control over his voice, and the first thing he could blurt out, in the same tone he used with his customers and sponsors:

“Good day. How may I help you?”

At that, the stranger laughed. It was soft and warm, just like his entire presence, and it sounded shockingly close to how Mr. Greed had imagined it would in his many daydreams, making him want to die of embarrassment a little less and his heart pound a little more.

“No need to be so formal,” the musician said. “I´ve just noticed that you listen to my playing a lot. And, well-“

He lowered his gaze a little, scratching the back of his neck.

“I´m grateful that you like it so much, really. But… all that money, I can´t accept it, I´m sorry.”

Greed blinked a few times, not knowing what to say.

“I mean, I´ve earned 250 dollars this month. From you alone.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“And I´d like to give it back to you, because I couldn´t look at it without feeling guilty. Sure, I want to earn a little with playing music, but this is more than I can keep with a clear conscience. So, please…”

The man reached for his pocket, retrieving a bunch of dollar bills that were being held together by a rubber band, and handed them to Mr. Greed.

“I´ll be too busy to perform here anymore, for a long time, at least. Thank you for being such a great listener. As weird as that sounds, it actually meant a lot to me.”

The way he said it, with a smile humble yet genuine, made the businessman feel like he would melt on spot. Breaking out of his stupor, he gently yet firmly pushed the other´s hand back, shaking his head.

“Keep it. If gave it to you, it means that I thought your performing to be worth the money,” he retorted, feeling himself getting a little light-headed from the softness of the other´s skin. A little quieter, he added: “See it also as me paying off my guilt for having terribly embarrassing romantic thoughts about you for an uncomfortably long time despite not even knowing your name.”

Greed watched the stranger´s expression change rapidly after that blunt confession; from shock to thoughtfulness to realization, until finally, the corners of his rosy lips curled upwards into a smile once more, and his eyes narrowed in a playful manner, a curious glint behind them.

“I see. But if that´s the case… perhaps my most generous benefactor would like to get to know me a little better? If he has the time, that is.”

The businessman´s response sounded like a mix between actual words and useless stuttering, and when the other, chuckling, asked him for something to write with, he patted his upper body all over, like a man being attacked by ants. Finally, Greed found a pen in the inner pocket of his jacket and handed it to the musician. He wordlessly allowed the other to lean over forward and lift the sleeve of his jacket, watched as the singer wrote down his phone number on the underside of his arm, the tip of the pen tickling his skin a little. Inhaled a bit of the faintly sweet scent emanating from the man´s moppy black hair, and took notice of the daintiness of his slightly calloused fingers.

“I gotta go now,” the singer said, interrupting Greed´s observation, “Call me tomorrow evening, I´ll be free. Try not to lose that arm with my number on in until then. Name´s Once-ler, by the way, pleased to meet you.”

He handed the pen back to its owner, got up quickly to readjust the guitar case on his back- and off he went. Mr. Greed noticed the bundle of money that was still lying on the bench, rather than in the singer´s wallet like it was supposed to. He called after him; but Once-ler just turned his head, smirking cheekily.

“Hold on to those bills! Keep them for later, my tastes in drinks and coffee shops are pretty expensive.”

Laughing, the musician disappeared behind a corner. And Mr. Greed himself couldn´t help but smile as he leaned back, enjoying the view of the clear summer sky.

#oncest #oncelerxgreedler #real world au #something wholesome for once #sfw #fanfiction #onceler #once-ler

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letswritebangtan · 4 years

Text

Brave Tender Heart 02 | What it Means to be Human...

pairing: princess!reader x knight!jungkook

A warm evening held out its hands for y/n to take. She had been planning on this visit for weeks and there was nothing that could stop her from going. At the orphanage, y/n felt most like herself. People often tended to forget that the term ‘Princess’ was merely a title. y/n was still a girl and she found joy in being one. The little smiles and loud cries of joy that she witnessed at the home made her heart swell. In the past, she never could fathom how children who had almost nothing rejoice every single day. She had so much admiration for them and felt that she could learn a thing or two on how to be happy from them. With the children, she never felt alone. Children did not discriminate, and they were more than happy to accept y/n as part of their social group.

“Princess, please could you tell us a fairy tale?” asked Jeongsan.

Jeongsan was seven and he had a wild imagination. He loved listening to stories as much as he loved telling them, and y/n was in awe at how his little brain could come up with such fantastic stories.

“Fairy tales are boring, ~san! Princess, tell us again about the time you fought in battle!” Jisoo exclaimed.

y/n laughed, “Now, now, let’s decide on a story we all like. That sounds fair, does it not?”

The children nodded in agreement, and y/n cleared her throat preparing to tell them a story she knew they all loved.

“Father, look! I painted all of us, there’s you and ma on the big chairs. I’m over here holding Tae because he can’t walk yet.” y/n talked in her father’s lap.

“This is beautiful, y/n. Go and show it to your mother, I’m sure she would be delighted to see it.” the king smiled fondly at his daughter.

With no hesitation, y/n jumped out of her father’s lap and her little feet moved so fast as she ran to the garden where her mother sat, having her evening herbal tea. Just the scent of it was so nostalgic.

“Ma, I painted a picture.” y/n said as she skipped towards her.

“y/n, no stepping on the grass. I have reminded you endlessly to use the stone path, dear.” said the queen.

y/n ignored her words and held the painting up to her mother for examination. The queen smiled, finding her daughter’s creative imagination adorable. y/n was talented in arts ever since she was little. Her mother made it a point to frame and hang up all of her paintings.

“Well you have certainly captured your brother’s chubby cheeks.” she said smiling.

y/n giggled and placed her hand on her mother’s big, and perfectly round belly.

“I drew the new baby too.” said y/n, as she used her tiny finger to point out a small human next to her.

The queen laughed in awe, “And you have done an amazing job at that too, considering you have not seen him or her yet.”

y/n grinned and left the picture with her mother. She skipped to the pond and sat at its edge, dipping her hands into the water. Underneath, there were silhouettes of fish and frogs. Small insects roamed the top, and y/n having the curious little mind she has she dipped her hands further and further into the water until her entire body fell in with a loud splash. Her feet could not feel the ground, and her head was beneath the surface. Struggling to push herself up she inhaled a big gulp of pond water and it filled her lungs till she could not breathe. The sounds above her were muffled but she could hear the loud, worried cries of her mother and soon a blur chatter of many voices lurking above her. It was not much time before her eyes began to close and her body went rigid.

Everything else was a blur, when she woke she was sputtering large amounts of water from her mouth and she was gasping for air. They sat her up and her head felt extremely light. She felt herself being lifted and as her head hung over the arm of her helper she noticed the figure of a young boy with doe eyes and black hair. He stood alarmed and worried at the sight of the princess almost losing her life in the sacred garden. Slowly, he lifted his hand and signaled her a small thumbs up and y/n remembered his smile. The same smile she had seen not a while ago from the present, the smile that told her that she was going to be okay.

“I really thought you were going to die, princess!” one of them said.

“I knew princess y/n would survive, she’s so strong!”

y/n laughed and made them quiet down. “The moral of this story, my dear children, is that you should never be afraid to be inquisitive. Explore, search, delve and find whatever you want only because you can find it. There is so much for you to learn, and you will not be able to do it if you just sit here. Test the waters, ignite fires, go against the wind or even dig yourselves to the bottom of this Earth, and do not be afraid.” y/n whispered the last part.

The children grinned at her feeling passionate about this new adventure princess y/n had drawn up for them. It was time to call it a day and y/n bid goodbye to her friends and walked along the path to the palace. As she walked her mind drifted to that day she nearly lost her life. Had it been any different, she wondered if she would have survived. The queen was terribly paranoid that y/n would try something again and called upon the family’s most trusted servant, Sir Kim, and made him teach y/n how to swim. Surprisingly, after that terrible incident in the water y/n was not afraid to enter a large water body such as the ocean. She jumped in headfirst and her mother nearly fainted at the sight but y/n learned quickly enough that her mother never had to worry about any more drowning incidences in the future.

“Princess!” she heard from behind her.

She stopped in her tracks and turned to her side, and there emerged Sir Jeon sat on top of his horse.

She smiled brightly at him, “Sir Jeon, delighted to see you.”

“The pleasure’s mine, princess.” he grunted as he hopped off of his trusty steed.

He performed just as he did the last time, lifting her hand and placing a soft kiss on the back of it.

“Do you charm every woman you meet just like this, Sir Jeon?” y/n teased.

Sir Jeon smiled sheepishly and laughed feeling embarrassed. “Are you saying that you feel charmed as well, my princess?”

“Never answer a query with a query, defeats its purpose.” y/n said being didactic.

Sir Jeon pursed his lips and nodded in agreement, “Very well said.”

“What business did you have here?” y/n asked.

“I was merely delivering a message that the prince wanted to get to a family at town. They are in terrible need of financial support and the prince is determined to remove that burden.”

“Good to know that my brother is being helpful.”

“The prince is very kind to offer his support, he needn’t have to yet he makes it a point.” Sir Jeon said impressed.

“Well, our father always told us that humans corrupt balance at most times. Just because we were born into the throne does not mean we are deserving of it. He made us understand what it is like for the less fortunate, and whatever that we can provide, we do.” y/n said as she reminisced of that moment with her father.

“The king was a good man.” Sir Jeon agreed.

There was an inkling of sadness in y/n’s eyes, and Sir Jeon noticed it.

“What happened was certainly not your fault.” he confirmed, looking her in the eye.

She nodded, “Some people think otherwise.”

Sir Jeon did not know what to say next, and y/n sensed his awkward nature.

“I should be heading back, thank you for stopping to see me.” she said.

“Actually, princess, I was hoping to give you a ride back to the palace.” Sir Jeon said motioning to his horse.

“Oh, how very kind of you but I enjoy my walks back home. They give me peace of mind.”

“It would be no trouble at all to transport you back, princess. Are you certain?” he said concerned.

“Very much certain, Sir Jeon. You need not worry about me.” she said with a small laugh. She found it endearing how he always seemed to be concerned with her.

“Well, would you prefer an escort on your walk?” he suggested.

y/n thought for a moment, “No, I would not. However, I would love a companion.”

She held her arm out hoping that Sir Jeon would link it to hers, and when he caught her drift, he slowly interlocked one arm with y/n’s and his other hand guided his horse. Sir Jeon looked carefree, easy and happy to be there. y/n could not think of the last time she had been accompanied on her walk back to the palace.

“May I ask where you have been spending your time today, princess? You had seemed excited to leave this morning.”

You smiled as you thought back to your young friends. “I had made a trip to the orphanage. I make it a point to visit every week, however I failed to visit them last month due to certain responsibilities. It has been a while since I saw them, hence my excitement.”

Sir Jeon observed as y/n’s face lit up like a star as she talked about the children. She talked about their stories and their role-playing activities. There was an incident where her foot had landed painfully on a small, sharp rock. As she groaned in pain, the children failed to hold back their laughter, and soon y/n found herself laughing with them.

“When I am with them, it is as if all my troubles fade and I finally feel like myself.” y/n sighed.

“I understand what you mean. I have not felt like myself in what seems like ages.” Sir Jeon wondered. “It is very kind, and thoughtful of you to spend your time with them, princess. I can tell from your stories that they very much enjoy your company.”

“I can most definitely say the same for them.”

Sir Jeon admired y/n’s personality, as soon as he found out that she had one. She pursued art and was amazingly comfortable with children. There was more he wanted to know about the princess, his conscience was telling him that her traits did not end there.

“You mentioned that you do not feel like yourself, Sir Jeon? What is it that prevents you?” y/n asks.

Sir Jeon felt like he had so much to say, his entire heart to pour out to her. Yet when he tried to explain it, the words that he had rehearsed in his head to himself over years and years, suddenly found itself twisted and stuck.

“Well...it is rather difficult to explain.” Sir Jeon said confusedly.

y/n nodded, “It is not something you can quite put your finger on, isn’t it? It took me a while to figure mine out as well. My problem, Sir Jeon, is that all my life people have seen me as a princess. A girl with royal blood, a girl with power, a girl who confident and strong no matter what. Despite all that, they failed to see me as just, a girl. That is what I am, Sir Jeon, a girl, and so I try to live my life as just a girl from time to time because no matter what, I cannot throw away my title as princess. Hence, I spend my time at the orphanage with my little friends, I ride my horse on windy evenings, I pour the emotions of a girl into my art, I stare at the pond in my garden hoping to see life underneath the water, I read books because of my inquisitive nature, and I try to do what a girl would do. These things make me feel human. Most of the time, I find myself doing activities alone so that there is no space for an individual to say ‘Good morning, princess.’, ‘May I help you, princess?’, ‘Whatever you need, princess.’, none of that. The space is for me, myself, for y/n to be before anything else, an ordinary girl.”

Sir Jeon listened attentively and not only understood the words that came out of y/n’s mouth, but he understood her feelings. At such a young age, he was picked out to serve. He had scarce memories of his childhood, and what it was like to be a boy. He loved catching beetles in the garden, he enjoyed the feeling of carbon on his fingers as he sketched on paper, he relished in the warm and hearty feeling of a good lunch prepared by his mother, he missed dancing to music, singing his mother’s favourite songs, he missed laying his head in her lap and hearing her voice send him to sleep. He missed his father who told him he could achieve anything, he missed the nights he had playful sword fights with his friends and when he could dip his feet into the water and just relax. He missed being a boy.

“I must admit it is in my nature to be loyal and to guard you, princess. However, to me, you are heaps and bounds more than just a princess. I see a girl, taking her time to blossom into a beautiful woman. I see a girl with refined taste, with hobbies and interests, a girl with an enormous, brave, tender heart. No one can take that part of you away from yourself, my princess, and you must not let them. The part that makes you human is the most precious part of us all.”

Their conversation was long enough to sustain on the entire walk home. Sir Jeon felt comfort and familiarity in y/n’s feelings, and y/n felt that there was no one in this world that understood her better than Sir Jeon. As soon as y/n stepped into the palace, her handmaids were plucking her bags and items off of her and as she made eye contact with Sir Jeon, he sent her a knowing look and the two of them smiled at each other widely. They ascended the staircase together, continuing to talk about each others’ lives and their experiences.

“It is extremely questionable that we have not had many conversations before.” y/n said to him.

“I was told to stay out of your way, princess, even in the short time that I remain here. That does not mean I have not paid attention to you.”

y/n felt something warm rise up to her cheeks and she pressed the back of her hand against her skin. She realised that she was flushed in pink. Sir Jeon happened to take notice and a small, proud smirk forced its way onto his face.

“I have taken notice to you as well, mostly as a boy. I hear you were and currently are very talented in your field.” y/n said quickly trying to change the subject.

“I did the best I could for this family, and I always will.”

“And we have have always appreciated that.” y/n looked at him with a sense of gratefulness.

Sir Jeon stood staring at y/n for a few moments before she saw his eyes sparkle with admiration.

“You have gorgeous eyes princess, I remember it to be exactly like your mother’s.” Sir Jeon said softly.

y/n felt her heart melting, she looked at Sir Jeon as if she needed help because she knew not what to respond to him. She was touched, and utterly smitten. A gush of wind suddenly entered the palace blowing onto y/n’s soft face and she squinted, blinking multiple times when she realised there was something that had entered her eye. Sir Jeon looked worried and stood there not sure of how to help. A knight’s training does not prepare them for situations as such.

“Princess, may I help?” Sir Jeon asked.

“N-no need, do not fret about it.” y/n hesitated as she stood trying to rub that darned particle out of her eye.

Soon she felt her hands being removed from her face with a firm, yet gentle tug. She struggled to see with one eye, and she saw Sir Jeon in close proximity to her.

“Just try opening your eye, and when you do I am going to blow.”

“Blow?” y/n sounded confused. “Sir Jeon, really I-”

“Please listen, princess. Just do as I say.”

“I have it under control-”

“Open your eye, princess.” Sir Jeon said with a more demanding tone.

y/n faltered, and did as she was told. In a second, Sir Jeon blew quickly into her eye and the particle was carried away by his breath. y/n blinked a few times feeling a lot more comfortable. There was a tear sliding down her cheek and Sir Jeon quickly caught it with his thumb.

“You’re okay.” he mumbled as he smiled at her.

y/n looked at him for a while trying to process the events that had just occurred. In the next moment, they were giggling at each other like idiots, still maintaining the close proximity.

“Now that was something I had never experienced.” y/n said surprised.

“My mother would do it for me when I had something in my eye. It always worked.” Sir Jeon said smiling.

“Thank you, for saving my eye.” y/n laughed and Sir Jeon laughed with her.

“It was not much time, princess, but I absolutely enjoyed spending it with you.” Sir Jeon said as he took hold of her hand for the second time that day, and left a second kiss.

y/n bit her lip to control the colour on her cheeks and looked away.

“We could do this more often if you wanted to, Sir Jeon.” y/n said shamelessly.

He raised an eyebrow, amused with her proposal. y/n rolled her eyes and stomped her right foot on the ground.

“Stop making it seem like I am the only one who wants this, Sir Jeon.” y/n complained.

Sir Jeon’s eyebrows raised even higher at that and it elicited a grin from him.

“No need to get upset, princess. You know very well I would love to spend more time with you, therefore, will you join me on my morning walk at dawn tomorrow?” he said with a hopeful tone.

y/n pulled a rehearsed, contemplative expression on her face for longer than Sir Jeon desired. He felt her teasing behaviour and proceeded to mimic her actions. He stomped his right foot on the ground and crossed his arms.

“Stop making it seem like I am the only one who-alright, princess! I shall stop.” Sir Jeon laughed out loud as you playfully hit his arm. Briefly, you felt how sturdy and firm his muscles were, must have been a result from all the knight training.

“Say you’d love to join me.” Sir Jeon insisted as he took her hands in hers.

“You are definitely quite bold to be taking on such a tone with the princess.” y/n said teasingly, although she did quite like it when he was firm with her.

“I am known to be the bravest knight in town.” he playfully bragged and y/n could not hold herself back from laughing at his endearing and fun behaviour.

“What is this obstruction?” another voice questioned.

y/n and Sir Jeon tilted their heads upward seeing the prince on the top of the stairs.

“Brother.” y/n greeted.

“Your majesty.” Sir Jeon bowed.

“Have your conversation above or below, not in between. The stairs are not built as platforms for conversation.” Taehyung complained.

“My apologies, your majesty. I will be leaving soon.” Sir Jeon responded.

“Do not worry, Sir Jeon, there is no need to apologise. My brother has just woken from his short slumber and is unsurprisingly moody.” y/n spoke.

Taehyung sent her a small glare of disapproval and started ascending from the stairs.

“Sir Jeon, there is work to be done. Follow me into the main room, will you?”

“Right away, prince. My dear princess, I shall take my leave.” Sir Jeon bowed and y/n tried hard to repress her smile but it shone right through, making Sir Jeon smile back as well.

y/n mouthed a small ‘yes’ and Sir Jeon beamed at her before taking her hand for the third time that day, planting a soft kiss, and then returning to his duties. y/n was giddy and smiling to herself as she walked to her dressing room. She had known Sir Jeon for years but just within a week of speaking to one another, she realised she had grown to like him. Was he generally this polite, fun, and easy to talk to? In that case, he must have a long line of women knocking on his door. y/n did not care about them though, what mattered was that after many years, she was not alone. At the entrance of her dressing room she ran into Sir Park, he bowed in her presence and she put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Please, Sir Park, you know I would always prefer to skip the formalities.”

Sir Park nodded in understanding and sighed, “I know you very well indeed, princess. I also know that you have recently acquainted with Sir Jeon?”

y/n was slightly surprised, “Ah yes, he is wonderful. It is nice to have him back, I’m sure.”

“Indeed, princess, he is liked by many here. He deserves good rest back at the palace, he serves us an awful lot out there, even if it kills him. I feel sympathy for what happened to him.” Sir Park said sadly.

“Sympathy? My god, did something terrible happen to him?”

Sir Park looked at y/n with surprise, “did Sir Kim not inform you? There was a fire in the village and Sir Jeon’s family home was subject to it. Their home burned to ashes and his family lost all their possessions, including his father’s memorabilia. It is deeply saddening. The prince has offered to help since Sir Jeon has been loyal and brave for our kingdom.”

y/n frowned upon hearing the news, and then it had occurred to her that Sir Jeon had visited town today, and he had mentioned the prince giving him some money to lessen some burden...

y/n gasped and looked at Sir Park, “But he seemed so fine-”

“A knight is supposed to be brave and strong, y/n. They should not show any sign of weakness.” Sir Park reminded her.

“But he has a tender heart, Sir Park. He does not deserve this.” y/n said sadly.

“There is only so much we can do, princess.”

“Do you think we can restore his father’s medals? I can talk to the prince.”

“That is a thoughtful idea, princess, but it won’t contain its sentimental value.”

y/n was thinking, she was determined to make Sir Jeon feel better. She knew not where this feeling came from and it was foreign to her, but it felt right.

“We could make a plaque, something to commemorate his father’s service over the years, don’t you think that holds sentimental value?” y/n suggested.

“I am sure he will be delighted. If you convince the prince, he can get it done by tomorrow.”

“Will you stand by me, Sir Park?” y/n asked hopefully.

“Always, dear princess.”

y/n knocked on the door of the main room with Sir Park next to her. Taehyung was sitting at the table, and Sir Jeon must have left since he was nowhere to be seen. Taehyung turned around and spotted his sister with her sidekick. He sighed and returned to his original position.

“Can I help you two?”

“Your majesty, the princess would like to have a word.” Sir Park bowed.

“Brother,” y/n started out slowly as she sat on the chair opposite him. “I have been informed about a recent fire in the village.”

The prince nodded, “Sir Jeon and his family have been affected. Not to worry, I have provided him with the funds to rebuild his home.”

“Yes, that is wonderful, Taehyung, however, the more pressing issue is that Sir Jeon lost his father’s medals and awards in the fire. Those were of sentimental value to him, Sir Park has confirmed it to be so. I would like to request a special plaque to be made in honour of the previous Sir Jeon and his contributions to the kingdom. I need your help to do that.”

Taehyung sighed, “y/n your idea is thoughtful however it is not really necessary.”

“If we only did things that were necessary the world would not be half as good as it is now, brother. I plead to you, I would like to get this done for their family to show my gratitude for their loyal service. It would not take much effort on our part, would it?” y/n persuaded.

The prince looked at her and then at Sir Park. He contemplated the idea for a while and then huffed.

“I can request for one, it can be done by tomorrow. But know this y/n,” Taehyung said seriously.

“I am doing this for Sir Jeon and his entire bloodline of men who have sacrificed their lives to serve us. Not at all for you.” he finished.

y/n nodded and looked down, feeling the familiar ache in her chest she stood up quickly and regained her composure. “That is more than enough, brother. Thank you.” and with that she retreated to her bedroom hoping for an even better tomorrow.

#bts x you #jungkook fics #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #bts au #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #romance #kim taehyung #knight!jungkook #princess!reader #short story #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook fluff

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years

Text

Hurt, pt. 2 (E.D.)

Summary: Ethan’s confused and his guilty conscience is killing him, while Y/N gets some unsettling news.

Warnings: ANGST, talk of abortion, swearing, indicating smut

Word count: ~1700

Hurt - Series Masterlist

Ethan looked down on his clothes as he threw them in the wash. Sighing heavily, he leaned his forehead on the wall in frustration, slamming his fist into it with a guttural grunt.

"Damn it!" He let his mouth run, closing his eyes as he punched the wall once more.

Since the moment he saw Y/N collapse, Ethan had felt his mind had turned on him. The image of her frail body, the blood, the short little breaths she took in her unconscious state - it tortured him - haunted him. If he was being completely honest, she had been haunting him since he told her he wanted an out. That day, he only looked at her for a fleeting moment but it was long enough to grasp his attention and sear itself in his memory.

"Babe?" Then he heard her voice. The woman's voice usually relaxed him but instead, Ethan tensed up. He's been going slow and reluctantly ever since he and Y/N split and even he didn't understand why. He was a single man, but he still feels tied to the woman who he walked out on. He still feels he belongs to her.

"What?" Ethan didn't bother hiding his current animosity, making him regret it instantly as he saw his current girlfriend flinch at his harsh tone.

She had been an almost love Ethan left behind when he moved out to Los Angels. She had been the girl he always dreamed of.

And then he met Y/N. The perfect girl for him. The one he saw a lifetime with.

But he decided to listen to the devil on his shoulder and looked back at his past instead of the future.

He truly thought he let go of Bianca, the beautiful sass queen he wanted as a boy. But life had set her in his path again...as his assistant, as cliche as it seems. He adored her natural, curly black hair even if it was short and usually a mess on top of her head. He loved her curves and the way they fit in his hands. And he loved her dark, chocolatey skin - every inch of it.

He tried to stay away and keep himself centered. He tried to be professional. But he lusted for her. He desperately wanted to mark every inch of her skin with his lips and he wanted her to arch under his touch. And while Y/N was waiting for him to come home, making his favorite meal even though she too had a long day at work, he was busy staring at the beauty he lost once upon a time.

And he hated himself for it.

Especially now when he wanted to enjoy the moment and be happy, but he couldn't even get himself up when he was in bed with his girlfriend. Not when all he'd see is Y/N and her teary eyes before him. Not when he heard her voice cracking in every accusation thrown his way.

He always knew he didn't deserve Y/N, but when he felt his loyalty shift, he knew he should let her go. She deserved a man who wouldn't let his eyes and mind wander.

But it didn't. Not really. Not when he was by Y/N's side. He still didn't understand that.

"I was going to ask about the blood and you going around punching walls, but forget it." Bianca rolled her eyes, turning around to leave him to his neurotic breakdown. She was beyond annoyed with the baby steps he's been taking because they've kissed so far, but she wanted more and he seemed to have trouble in that department. Even more so by the fact he still had his wedding band, hidden away in his sock drawer.

"I...damn it!" Ethan punched the wall again, aware he's not going to be at peace until he sees Y/N and confirms she's well. She isn't the type to faint. She was always strong, much stronger than he is. But if he's being completely honest, her words got to him. They gutted him. He wished to be able to ignore it and act normally after seeing her, but he was completely lost.

"Reschedule everything I have for today." He ordered Bianca as he left his...well, it wasn't just his house two months ago but since Y/N left it's become his.

While Ethan set himself on a coarse to the hospital Y/N was taken to, she sat in her bed with her eyes glued to her fidgeting hands.

Everything inside her screamed in horror just because she had that tiny piece of Ethan inside her. She hoped, she prayed she doesn't have a viable pregnancy. There wasn't a single cell in her body that accepted the news with open arms. She was going in full denial of her situation.

In the four years she spent with Ethan, two of them as a married couple, they talked about having kids after the two year mark. Since everyone said the first two years are always rocky and most couples get a divorce in that time, they decided to wait.

Who knew they would end up adding onto the statistics? Who knew the pregnancy would happen as planned without it being wanted anymore?

Snorting in disbelief, Y/N felt her eyes welling up as she was placed in front of an impossible choice. She was pro choice, always. But she also believed she'd never have an abortion if she was well off and able to care for her child.

Could she have this baby? His baby? Now when he had ruined all the good they had? Now when she was rediscovering herself - the Y/N without Ethan for he left a big gap in her life, personality even.

The thing about married couples is that they always compromise on everything in order to keep a peaceful life going. They compromise and change and adapt to fit each other's personalities better.

Without Ethan, Y/N felt herself going through an identity crisis. Without him, she couldn't find the parts of her that were there before she met him. Now that she lost him, she had to find herself.

How would she do that when she's carrying his baby?

The thought repulsed her. The thought of having to see him and his stupid face or his mistress as they are happy and she's stuck with a baby, it repulsed her. You see, the thing about men and women, it's a fact that divorced women with children are much less desirable and tend to stay single or have their relationships crumble...but men? They are sexy...DILFS. They find a replacement quickly, despite having a child.

Another thing rattles her...her baby loving his mistress...loving her more than its mother? That terrified her. After all, if the father chose someone else over her, why wouldn't the kid?

Y/N didn't know what to do. She didn't know if she wanted to end the pregnancy or not. Hell, if she kept the baby she didn't know if she'd let him know. After all, Grayson was the one who always wanted loads of kids and a marriage. That was never Ethan's style. Should have trusted him when he said that on their first date.

"Hello. You asked for a consult?" The doctor came in, his smile pleasant and wide, comforting even. His blonde, luscious hair seemed to mock her for he looked more like a movie star than a doctor. He is tall and he is bulk and the white coat didn't help her mind from remaining pure. And his accent? Fuck, she was so weak for accents!

"Y-yeah." She stammered, mentally kicking herself for having an instant crush on this blue-eyed British doctor. The blue eyes she always felt herself attracted to didn't help either. Funny how she ended up falling in love with a guy that was a complete opposite of what she used to dream about.

"Okay, so, I'm doctor Henstridge and I'm here to do an ultrasound and answer any questions you might have." He closed the blinds, pulling up a machine closer to her bed.

"Mrs. Dolan, I'm going to need you to lift your hospital gown up." The doctor chuckled at her awestruck gaze, used to it by now. It wasn't easy being a good looking doctor in a gynecology department.

"Ugh, sure. As long as you never address me as Mrs. Dolan ever again." She quipped, doing as he told. He quirked an eyebrow, nodding to acknowledge her request. She could tell he wanted to ask, but he didn't and she was grateful for it.

Applying some gel, he began his exam shortly after.

"I was wondering if I'm still allowed to...choose on what I want to do here?" She asked with hesitation in her tone, biting her lip as the sound of an ultrasound shook her.

"I have to asses when you conceived first." His response was short as he tried to concentrate, but she didn't bother listening to him. First, she knew exactly when she conceived, unable to forget the date when her whole world came crashing down. Second, the sounds she heard distracted her.

"What's that sound?" She craned her neck to see, her heart jumping with the continuously changing rhythm of a drum roll kind of a sound. It left her with a slight panic, but the doctor laughed it off.

"It's a heartbeat...three from what I hear."

Y/N leaned back as he turned the screen to her, pointing out three blobs on the screen.

"And you can see them too! Was this a natural conception?" Doctor Henstridge asked, finding it strange as well. Natural conceptions rarely end in triplets, but seeing as the patient clearly wasn't happy about her predicament, natural conception seemed to be the only plausible explanation.

She couldn't hear him though, her mind stopping as did her heart. She could hardly breathe, trying to process the whole thing before her panic came out in an outburst.

"You're telling me I'm having triplets?!"

PART 3

Tags: @melodiesforari @brittttneyyyy @beautorigin @dolandolll @xalayx @godlydolans @heyits-claire @peacedolantwins @dolanstwintuesday @accalialionheart @ethanhes

If you want to be tagged, just leave a comment about it :)

#ethan dolan x reader #ethan dolan #dolan twins #ethan dolan angst #ethan dolan fic #ethan dolan fanfiction #ethan dolan fanfic #ethan dolan series #ethan dolan imagine #angst #hurt

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justaghostingon · 4 years

Text

Cogs in a Steel Heart

Chapter 1: Introductions

Cyrus could think of a hundred other things a thug minion could do, each one a hundred times more fitting for someone of his skill set than babysitting. But Donella needs someone to take Hugo’s reports, and Cyrus needs the money, so here he is, in the cold and the wind, listening to Hugo gripe. And maybe he is kind of enjoying listening to Hugo complain about having to make friends of all things. Just a bit though.

read on ao3 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/24331849/chapters/58666810

or below the cut off.

Cyrus liked to consider himself a pretty normal guy. Sure, he beat people up for a living, but hey, it was honest work and that was precious hard to come by in this economy. He went home to his loving wife, Mona, and a tiny apartment worth far less than the angry landlord demanded just like everyone else. As far as thugs went, he was pretty decent, never roughing someone up more than was necessary to get the point across, always paying his guild fees on time, keeping trouble out of the neighborhood of work so his neighbors’ kids could play outside safely.

It was that kind of attitude that had gotten him assigned to Donella in the first place. She was notorious for having thugs quit on her like clockwork, and the guild was running out of thugs to send her. Eventually the exasperated guild master had called Cyrus into his office, placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Cyrus, you’re the most personable thug I got. If you can’t handle this crazy lady, we’re dropping her, solid gold pay or not.”

It hadn’t been easy, but here he was, six years later, holding the record for the longest lasting employee of Donella. And what did it get him? He pulled his arms around himself as the cold of the forest swept through him. Stuck following behind some stupid kids on a stupid quest, way past company time. He didn’t even get to interact with them! No intimidation or anything!

No, that privilege rested with the boy he was waiting on, whose report he would have to write up like some common secretary. The boy who had gotten him into this in the first place. Hugo. His lips twisted briefly into a frown before he sighed.

He missed Mona. She would know what to say to make this all fall into perspective. He hoped the money he had sent was enough to deal with the new landlord knocking on her door, and that she was enjoying the stew he so loved in his absence. It's kind of funny to think that just yesterday those had been his only worries.

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

Today was the day! He was going to do it! Going to ask for the raise he and Mona so desperately needed. It was long overdue, considering how he was already a senior employee.

There was only one other employee that could come close to rivaling him that title. His eyes slid to the side where Hugo slouched as he fiddled with some sort of strange contraption. Hugo had technically been here longer than he had, but he didn’t quite count. Or at least his skills made him too hard to replace, otherwise that attitude would have gotten him kicked out ages ago.

Case and point. Hugo flipped the contraption into the air as Donella entered the room. “One totem, freshly stolen from a group of amateurs, as requested.” He caught it and held it up with a flourish.

“Don’t play with that!” Donella snapped. “It's worth more than you could ever dream!”

Oh good. Cyrus thought. That means she could afford to raise his salary, and he could ask without any trace of guilt in his conscience. He’d put so much time and effort into working here, he deserved it. And with the new landlord who kept raising the rent he and Mona certainly needed it.

Hugo rolled his eyes and set it on her desk with a clunk. Her own eyes narrowed. but Hugo seemed not to care. “Seems kinda boring for a supposed treasure, but hey, if the rich will pay, why not collect?” He checked his nails.

“Foolish child!” Donella snapped. Cyrus held himself still under the anger in her voice. A good thug is never intimidated after all. Hugo tried the same, but a slight wince gave him away. “This is one key to the eternal library! With it we can find wisdom beyond our wildest dreams!”

“An eternal library?” Hugo’s ears pricked up. “Like that nonsense those amateurs were going on about?”

“What do you mean?” Donella’s anger rearranged itself on her face into a guarded curiosity.

“Oh you know, they were going on about completing some research, looking in a book, that kind of thing.” Hugo shrugged and leaned back against the wall. Cyrus watched Donella’s eyes sharpen as they followed his movements. He had something she wanted, and he knew it.

Cyrus held back a sigh. He knew this song and dance far too well. And if the last six years of working with these two had taught him anything, it was that he was never going to get out of this meeting now. Not when Hugo had a chance to show off.

And Mona was making his favorite stew for dinner tonight too.

“Book?” Donella said, and started asking questions. Cyrus tuned them out in favor of dreaming of Mona’s special stew, complete with a heavy broth and potatoes. How he hoped there would be potatoes in it this week, they were getting more and more expensive.

“...Cyrus will follow along behind, and you will report to him every week.” Cyrus heard Donella say.

“What?” Hugo protested. “I don’t need a babysitter.” He crossed his arms.

What? Cyrus wanted to chime in. He wasn’t sure what exactly they had been talking about but any kind of trip was way out of his pay grade. The cost of hotels alone, and what was he going to tell Mona? This is why no one wants to work for you, he grumbled in his head.

Donella continued on, oblivious to the anger of her employee. “This mission is far too important to risk you screwing it up Hugo. I need Cyrus there to retrieve you and the book when things go wrong.”

Cyrus grit his teeth as he caught Hugo’s face fall for a fraction of a second before the perfect mask was back in place. A twinge of something sharp and protective filled his gut at the sight. Great move boss, he wanted to say. The mission hasn’t even started yet and you're already turning your team against each other. Do you even know how to do your own job?

“Fine,” Hugo straightened. “I’ll get going, right now in fact.” He shot Cyrus a smirk and Cyrus felt the strange emotion evaporate, replaced by annoyance. “Coming Cyrus?”

“Only if I get a raise,” Cyrus grunted. Wow, that was a lot blunter than he meant it to be. Mona would throw a fit. But hey, it’s not like she had another minion on call right now, and if he was going to be dragged across the country he should at least get paid more for it.

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

He still can't believe Donella actually gave him that raise. She hadn’t even blinked before signing the check and sending it off to Mona. She must want this eternal library very, very badly. Which was great for her, but less great for Cyrus, who had to stand her in the cold and wind and wait for Hugo to somehow miraculously convince a group he’d robbed and stolen from to let him join.

In the privacy of his own mind, Cyrus half wanted to see him fail. See him finally learn the consequences to being a jerk to everyone around him. But that would not be good for the mission, which would make Donella very, very mad. Meaning that Cyrus would kiss his raise goodbye at best, and would be out of a job at worst. Which given how long it took to find a new thug job even with the guild, and the new landlord’s rates, was not good for him and Mona.

“And for Hugo,” a voice that sounded suspiciously like Mona’s whispered in his ear. “You at least get to go home when Donella gets mad. He has to live there.”

He shook his head. That was easy for Mona to say. She’d never met Hugo, never experienced all the horrible treatment he gave to everyone around him.

----------

On his first day Donella had introduced him to Hugo he hadn’t known what to think of this gangly child standing awkwardly beside her. He looked like an overgrown puppy, still not used to his bigger size as he stumbled along beside Donella. It had reminded him of the kids in his own neighborhood to be honest, who thought they were tough when they stole a treat from the local market.

Cyrus had almost relaxed. Almost. Then the boy flashed him a razor sharp smile as he felt a sharp pain in his side, and he realized the boy had stuck him with a tack without even getting close. He’d grit his teeth and ignored the pain, it was too little to stop a proper thug, through the rest of Donella’s introduction.

Then Donella had turned her back, claiming she had better things to do and not to disturb her or leave his post. As her heels echoed down the hall, the boy coiled like a snake as he turned his full attention to Cyrus.

“So you’re from the Thug guild right?” A smile played on his lips but did not reach his eyes.

Cyrus grunted in agreement, eyeing the boy warily as he began to circle around him.

“What’s that cute little motto they put on all their cards?” He ran a hand up by Cyrus’s shoulders. Which he probably meant to be intimidating, but Cyrus could tell by his touch that there wasn’t any real muscle to back it up. “All the muscle and little...?” he trailed off and looked at Cyrus expectantly.

The word he was looking for was “brain.” but Cyrus said nothing. No thug worth his salt would respond to such juvenile taunts.

“I can’t hear you,” Hugo leaned forward, a hand over his ear. Suddenly an uncontrollable urge to scratch his shoulders filled his skin. He reached out instinctively to them to scratch.

Hugo laughed. “Amazing isn’t it? Itching powder of my own design! And that’s not all it does!” As Cyrus’s fingers reached his shoulders, they held fast. He tugged, but they did not move.

“Sticking solution!” Hugo held out a bottle dangling in one gloved hand. “You see,-” he gave a mock bow, “-you may have a lot of muscle, but I have a lot of brains.” He raised his head, eyes narrow. “And brain beats brawn. Always.”

“Hugo!” Donella’s voice called out.

Hugo straightened, all traces of malice gone. “Well on that note, I have to be off! Lovely to work with you!” Hugo dashed off, leaving Cyrus standing, arms still stuck.

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

The memory faded from Cyrus’s eyes as his ears caught the sound of rapid footsteps. Then the footsteps stopped. For a few seconds all was quiet, until a great cloud of purple smoke came from between the trees. Hugo stepped grandly from it, one hand raised. “Infiltration accomplished in record time, as expected.” He gave a little bow, then stood up and dusted off his hands. “I’ll bet you regret coming along now, don’t you?”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “They let you in?” That quickly? And let him wander alone over to Cyrus without anyone following? Something wasn’t right here. He tensed, glancing around for any signs of a trap or an ambush. Leave it to Hugo to walk them both into trouble on the first day.

Hugo rolled his eyes at his antics. “Contrary to what you may believe, I do know how to make people like me. I am a professional thief after all.” He placed a hand on his puffed up chest.

You are not nearly as good as you think you are, Cyrus thought. Half the time the only reason that works is because the nobility are so used to being flattered they don’t notice your sarcasm. Which is not a good sign for your new team. “Tell me everything,” he said.

Hugo deflated. “Everything?” he whined. Cyrus raised his other eyebrow. “Fine!” Hugo sighed dramatically as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll start from the beginning.”

He explained how he’d caught them on the road. How he’d pointed out how useless they were and offered them both the totem and his help guiding them through. How they had welcomed him into the party.

“Just like that?” Cyrus frowned. There was no way it was that simple. Even just getting Mona to go on a date with him had taken weeks of work, and he’d had mad good looks and a personality that wasn’t made of fish oil on his side.

“Well,” Hugo laced his fingers. “The firecracker kid got a little mad, saying they weren’t idiots, and how people like me never change, blah blah.” That’s what you call a little? Cyrus’s frown deepened.

“But Goggles stuck out his hand and welcomed me on to the team!” Hugo added hastily. “And he’s the leader, so the kid didn’t press the issue.”

“He heard all of that, and he deliberately chose to let you join?” Cyrus’s eyebrows arched together in disbelief. After what had to be the worst recommendation letter in all of history, a.k.a. advice from anyone who’d talked to Hugo for five minutes?

“What can I say?” Hugo laughed as he struck a pose. “I guess I’m just irresistible.”

Right, and pigs flew. Hugo was charming, sure, but in a slippery way that only really fooled people once. Cyrus was half convinced that he’d have to skip town once he ran out of nobles to schmooze and trick. To let him join, after he’d stolen from them, when his companion was so against him...

There were only three reasons he could think for such strange behavior. The first, that Hugo was right and this ‘Goggles’ had just taken a liking to him. Teenagers could be stupid when it came to hormones. But these kids were smart enough to complete a trial Hugo hadn’t been able to do, and so were probably smart enough to know better.

The second, and far more likely version, was that ‘Goggles’ was planning to double cross Hugo before Hugo got the chance to double cross him. In which case, Cyrus had better stick close by and get Hugo out before he paid for his arrogance.

But there was a third option, rarer it's true, that could be at play. One Mona had understood so well. What had she said all those years ago?

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

After their first meeting, Hugo had continued to be a constant source of aggravation for Cyrus. He seemed to lurk around every corner, with some taunting words and some new prank. He’s lost track of how many stink bombs the boy had thrown at his head, or times he’d frozen him to the ground. He’d even stopped sitting down at lunch, as every seat he tried had either a tack or customized fart cushion, or worse.

Today the brat had somehow turned all his shoes to jelly, and he’d had to stumble home in weird, slippery shoes like some kind of drunk monkey. Mona had caught him in her arms as he’d fallen through the door, and listened as he cried and complained about all the problems Hugo was causing, and how he didn’t know what he’d done to make him hate him so much and wanted to quit like everyone else.

Mona had held him and listened. For a while they just sat there, until Mona tentatively said, “Maybe it’s not about you.”

He raised his head from her chest and looked up at her round face. “What?”

She bit her lip, the way she did when she was struggling to find the words to explain. “Maybe he’s mean to you, not because of anything you’ve done, but because of something he’s gone through. It could be a lot of reasons, but I’ll bet he’s not used to thinking of adult men as friendly, and just jumped to conclusions about you without getting to know you as a person.”

“So I should just put up with this because he’s not really angry at me?” Cyrus cried, searching her face with pleading eyes.

“Of course not,” she shook her head. “You don’t have to put up with anything. In fact you probably should quit tomorrow. We’ll figure out a way to make ends meet. I’m just saying that he doesn’t hate you, because he’s never met the real you.”

Cyrus had buried his head back in her chest, a pout on his lips. But those words stuck with him, and he decided to hang on for one more day.

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

“Maybe it’s not about you,” Cyrus murmured.

“What?” Hugo turned to look at him, a quizzical look in his eyes.

“This ‘Goggles,” Cyrus elaborated. How would Mona put it? “He’s letting you in because of something that’s happened in his past, not because of anything you did to win him over.”

“You mean he’s naive?” Hugo rolled his eyes and turned half away.

“That’s one option,” Cyrus crossed his arms.

“Yes, well.” Hugo looked down at his feet. “It’s to our advantage isn’t it? Whatever his reasoning is, if it gets me in, I’m in.” He shot Cyrus a tight smile.

Cyrus nodded his head. Because it was true. They weren’t here to make friends or psychoanalyze strangers. They were here on a mission for the crazy lady herself, and that wasn’t something either of them could take lightly.

Especially not Hugo.

#varian and the seven kingdoms #seven kingdoms au #hugo the human #hugo #cyrus #varian #yong #cogs in a steel heart

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devintrinidad · 3 years

Text

Well I’m never going to write this. But I do enjoy talking about this au. I think this AD au captures the characters in great way.

Oohh, I like that Macrophage Scientist even better. It helps explain why Macrophage took them in and how they even escaped. Macrophage set off the explosion and made it look like they all died in the process. Macrophage then had them all become Akudama and live in the slums of society to hide better. It would fit even more because I had this idea that 3803, as she got older, sometimes experienced biological issues. She’s perfectly healthy, but her body sometimes might stop working or she gets incredibly cold or hot or something. Maybe even goes temporarily blind. Thankfully 3803 always sees the warning signs a few days before happen so she can manage to work around job offers. Macrophage theorizes as 3803 grows, some stuff the older scientists did to her body went unfinished and her body is trying to deal with the changes as it griws and settles. Macrophage has made medicine to help 3803 (that she has to take daily, different doses depending on how she feels). But she still worries because she wasn’t one if the main scientists who experimented on them (because of her age at the time, Macrophage was more if a assistant in some experiments and caretaker of the subjects. She didn’t have access to everything). But it’s still concerning and they wonder if Platelet will experience them too or if she’s sage since she hadn’t been put through the last few experiments like 3803 had. 3803 also wonders if Cancer had gone through the same process and if she’s becoming a monster or something inhuman or she she can even die from this (3803 has a lot of stress behind her smiles).

Cue 1146 being a overprotective worry wart whenever she gets like this. In fact before he became loyal to her, the one time as a Executioner he almost arrested her after he had had a bad day with a lot of nasty Akudama who had acted nice but deceived a lot of innocent people into their ruin. He even lost a comrade or two in the ruckus. He found her and impulsively grabbed her to ask her why she of all people is a Akudama! Instead of answering, 3803 goes limp and gets a blank look in her eyes like she’s a silent doll. He immediately panics and carries her to his living quarters. He fishes through her clothes until he finds what looks to be medicine. He can’t risk taking her to a doctor because she’s a akudama and he doesn’t know her friends yet. He takes the risk and follows the handwritten directions on the bottle to give her the right amount. Since she’s unresponsive he has to give her the medicine mouth to mouth (he only ever had one lesson so he hopes he doesn’t screw it up. He’s just thankful it’s liquid). After doing this two days, she finally acts responsive and thanks him because she was aware the whole time. She just couldn’t move. He gets down to business and asks her for her story. The implication he’s at a tipping point and he could grant her freedom or be 100% Executioner (being less then before us what got his comrades killed). She understands he’s at the edge and not the normal nice guy she’s been used to so she spills her whole story. She omits Macrophage and Platelet so they’ll stay safe either way but she figures she has no choice but to tell him about Cancer, the corruption and how she had to become a Akudama. He listens and surprises her greatly when he believes her. There are things he’s thought about for a long time and researched that don’t make sense to him. Everything she said fits in line. Plus he has wondered how she can heal so fast. He tucks her in his bed and tells her she can go in the morning. It still takes a few more weeks for 1146 to really leave the Executioners. Despite confirming the truth of the world. He still was attached to his life as a Executioner and all his friends there. He also thought about fighting the corruption inside the system because that’s what a good person would do. It was only when his mentor found out about 3803 from 1146 telling him about her in hopes he get some guidance that things changed. His mentor revealed he was in cahoots with Cancer and was now going to deliver her to him. Before he does though, Mentor makes absolute certainty that it’s her by brutalizing her to the point she should be dead but can’t die. 1146 is horrified by this and kills his Mentor to save 3803 and keep her secret. With those actions, 1146 fully turns his back on the Executioners and loses all hope in the organization with the one person he looked up to most for guidance betrayed him.

Luckily for him, he later meets Basophil Senpai who is a Akudama named, Philosopher. He’s a smooth talker who can discover the truth in any situation and can be quietly intimidating. He can also figure out how to disguise any lie if you need a new life. All for a price. He puts up with 1146’s idolization after they end up on the same mission (1146 is protecting a mob goon who’s having Basophil assist him in figuring which mafia gang killed his brother and lied about it. Then needs Basophil to fake his death after he kills them. Which Basophil does by cutting one of his hands off).

There’s just something funny and tragic about 1146’s friends getting ready apprehend the legendary Deliverer who bewitched the equally legendary 1146 into abandoning them. Only to see she’s this tiny defenseless (normally she has a gun. But it’s gone now) cute woman glaring at them while protecting a sobbing child begging them to leave them alone. They’d be like, we were not trained for this. °_°;;;; After it’s all said and done, 4989 would try the hardest to make up with 3803 and Platelet for scaring them so much and arresting 3803 and 1146. Luckily they forgive him pretty easily after he saved 1146 and 3803.

I like those pairs! How tragic though if 2001 is the one who stays behind? He believes 1146 and helps him. But he can’t be a Akudama. He stays behind to do what he can from there. Maybe try to make sure no one brainwashed Band Cell. Of course he’ll most likely die later. Maybe he still follows orders to fight 1146 like a good soldier would. But when 1146 delivers a fatal blow, 2001 gives him his blessing to go on and commends him for being a better man then him. 1146is understandably grateful for the blessing, but devastated that 2001 thought of himself as a coward.

Yeah I think when it comes to Killer T and NK it’s a lot like in canon. They know they have the jurisdiction and duty to kill other cells if they need to. NK even gloating she can kill any cell she wants to without consequence. In AD verse, I can see them both knowing they have to do horrible things for their job. But they accept it because their world view deems it nessecary for order to not fall into anarchy. NK is known to be a lot smarter then the others so she probably figured out how warped the world is long before Killer T and 1146 did. But unlike 1146, both NK and Killer T don’t have the ideals to think they can have another life or do better. This is their mission and they believe 1146 is selfish and weak minded for turning his back on it.

Yeah I could see Killer T eventually walking away from the Executioners. But again, he doesn’t have 1146’s ideals so he goes down a darker road. One 1146 disapproves of a lot. NK I could see sadly sticking to being a Executioner to the end. Maybe of 1146 doesn’t kill 2001, then she does when she figures out he’s still a little loyal to 1146.

Boy every time I try to give Cancer and 3803 a platonic relationship you just want to throw Abnormalities spin on it. XD Okay. The way I see them is this. Cancer often visited the lab to check up on the progress. He called the subjects his children and eventually picked his favorites who he showed more affection for. Not coincidently those subjects were always the ones who showed the most potential to be successful candidates. 3803 was one of them. 3803 had spent her whole life in the lab. Her knowledge from the outside world came from stories from Macrophage and older kids and adults who were captured. The stories validated her fear of Cancer because she knows there’s something wrong with him and what he does. It gets worse as as she begins to lose friends along the way, like 4201 and 5100 or other kids who pass away. Cancer began treating her like his actual daughter when it was confirmed she was showing signs of being like him. He called her his princess. Often carried her around by balancing her on his hip with one arm around her while he checked up on everything. Kissed her forehead and cheeks. Took naps with her as told her bedtime stories. When she’s older, Platelet was introduced and thanks to all the successful experiments 3803 had undergone. The scientists performed the exact same ones on Platelet to find out she had the same potential. Cancer, to a lesser extent, also began showing his other ‘daughter’ favor. Despite this affection. Both girls are terrified of him because of how easy it is for him to become indifferent and even violent with those he claims to care for. Also despite claiming he loves them, he easily discards them and shows how indifferent he is when they die. He’s very two faced.

Years later when Cancer discovers both of them survived. He uploads his consciences into mechanical animals or even hacking into their phones to spy on them. He sees 3803 has become a women and displays more signs of immortality then anyone else (besides him) he’s seen. He’s then like, my princess has become a queen. Then he starts getting both amused and jealous over 1146’s romantic feelings for her. During a actual confrontation between them, Cancer makes it clear he’s going to marry her himself and won’t share.

I like the idea that, like in canon, Cancer can and will pretend to be a ordinary person just to observe or move things along. He can use technology to alter his voice and appearance. He’ll pretend to be one if his underlings underling, like a secretelary or a driver to get a good read on everything. He even developed a friendship with 1146 before 1146 left. Seeing 1146’s potential, he even recommended his inner circle to monitor and mold 1146 into some one who could be trusted. Maybe he even pretends to be a client to 3803. He, acting like a citizen, requests she bring him a package through a very dangerous area. When she arrives and delivers her package. He opens it to reveal it’s empty. She’s shocked and apologizes, wondering if she got it wrong. But he silences her by giving her a deep kiss on the mouth. He reveals what he wanted was to lock lips with the legendary Deliverer as if they were lovers. Before she recovers from her shock, he hands her a ton of money and dissapears. 1146 is not happy when he hears about this.

Yes. 1146 is a big flippin deal to the Executioners. He was a prodigy from day one. A role model and well respected by everyone. He was already being groomed to be head Executioner one day. Him leaving the organization was a huge blow to morale and strength that they try to downplay and kept it secret from most lower rank Executioners that he’s a Akudama now for as long as they can. If possibly they do want him back. If they have to force him into it by messing with his brain by inserting control chip or threatening what he holds dear and put a bomb collar on him to keep up appearences. They will.

Regulatory T would be a great Executioner. I could also see Helper T, Dendretic and many other immune cells being Executioners. Afterall they probably just can’t believe things can be different or think about whether it should be. They just do what they think they should because Cancer keeps everyone in so much darkness.

3803 is a awesome gun user. It always surprises people because she usually just drives her motorcycle and acts more defensive then offensive. But if it came down to it, don’t think she’s unwilling to protect herself or someone else. She has nerves of steel and she’s seen things most couldn’t imagine.

The Executioners and Akudama they deal with quickly learn messing with 3803 is the fastest way to die by 1146’s brutal hand. He can’t imagine living without her.

~~~

Geeez, I’m getting so into this, I might as well do it. (Hahahaha, I joke, but who knows?)

OOoofff, so many feels for 3803 here. Macrophage definitely feels guilty and tries to make sure that both Platelet and 3803 have a somewhat normal lifestyle outside of the experimental facilities, but there are times where she feels like she’s not trying hard enough. Even more so because 3803 and Platelet have become Akudamas and are at risk of becoming Executed.

Macrophage not being one of the main scientists is also a good take on this character.

Oooooohhhh, love how you put in a little backstory as to how 3803 and 1146 met. Of course 1146 would be reckless and impulsive enough to ask. I bet it was during this interrogation he was starting to have doubts about the Executioner’s role in society and how Akudamas weren’t all what they seemed. Awww, and 3803 does everything that she can to protect her loved ones! It really fits he character and I love it.

Hmmm, who is 1146’s mentor here? You never quite mentioned here? Could it be U-1117 (if I remember correctly, this is the original white blood cell from the original pilot… or what about the Neutrophil teacher during his childhood in that one chapter from CAW canon?). It would be tragic considering that both of these characters are actually quite kind from the original source material.

OH MY GOSH. BASOPHIL AS A PHILOSOPHER???? IT FITS SO NICELY!!! Hehehe, the whole time you’re talking about Basophil reminds me of this comedy sketch.

Yup, the WBC squad are definitely trying to figure out how to deescalate the situation when they realize that 3803 and Platelet are definitely Akudama, but are they truly that bad?

So many tragedies… 2001, in my opinion, is definitely the type of person who is loyal to their life’s calling to the very end, despite how corrupt or bad it may be. He promised to lay down his life as an Executioner and he’s going to stick to it. I imagine 1146 and 2001’s final confrontation might be similar to that Brawler and Master’s fight, except both are wielding sabers and are more focused on strategy over muscle.

Totally agree with you on Killer T and NK. NK would definitely commend 2001 for his continued stay on the Executioner’s side. Like 2001, she would definitely try to change things on their side, but at the end of the day, orders are orders. There are definitely things she has done that she regrets doing, but to be honest, it’s the system’s fault, right? She’s cynical, but she understands that the Executioners are somewhat at fault for what’s happening.

Killer T would definitely be an Akudama and he would be called… I don’t know? Brawler has a nice ring to it, but I suppose if you wanted a new name, he could be called the Lone Wolf? Or Loner? After becoming disillusioned with the Executioners, he works on his own terms. Oooohhh, another one, Vigilante. He executes Akudama and Executioners he deems to have crossed the lines into illegal territory.

Okay, to be fair, I was only suggesting a bit of a twisted relationship, hahaha. I’m not the one writing the creepy stuff in great detail. But, in all seriousness, I love the gradual descent into madness Cancer has with 3803. And his jealousy regarding 1146? He would definitely taunt him and tease him about the whole “Husband” thing that Macrophage has been talking about.

Ooooh, and that last part with Cancer tricking 3803 into kissing him? That is so twisted and diabolical.

I approve. XD

Anyways, yeah the entirety of the immune system are definitely Excutioners. XD It’s basically in their character descriptions, hahaha.

As for 3803 being a great gunman? I was kind of entertaining the idea that she’s a pacifist and that throughout her career as the Deliverer, she has never outright killed someone. Injured, yes, but never killed. She would be the type of person to misaim on purpose so that they have another chance at life. The only reason she missed is because she did it on purpose.

(Have you watched Trigun? I’m kind of modeling her after Vash the Stampede, haha! Love. And. Peace!)

Anyway, at this rate, we might as well be writing season 2 for AD. Seriously, Kodaka where you at?

Thanks for the submission and I hope that you have a wonderful day! :D

#cells at work #hataraku saibou #caw #caw anon #anon ask #devintrinidad author #devintrinidad #devin trinidad author #devin trinidad #akudama drive #akudama #submission

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valkerymillenia · 4 years

Text

Umbrella Academy

season 2, episode 7

More thoughts and live blogged reactions.

1982. I'm assuming Five used a briefcase... But in s1 we saw that the briefcase travels are tracked (Hazel and Cha-Cha got reprimanded for Klaus's Vietnam trip) so I'm not sure how the board doesn't know someone is coming... I might be overthinking.

Five being creepy.

Is that a Fudge Nutter like Handler mentioned in season 1? Oh, it is.

Jesus, Five! Anger management for you, old man.

AAHH! THEY LET FIVE SAY FUCK! Fucking finally! 🤣

How did nobody notice that destruction? 😆

Oh, the axe! Is Five going to go all American psycho? Because I'd love to see that.

HOLY SHIT!

That smile!

HOLY SHIT!!!!!!

Is he using tiny time travel bursts like Reggie said? Or a briefcase? Or is he just that fast?

AJ hiding under the table 😆

Pausing to drink water and grin, what a psycho, I love him.

He's definitely using time jumps but they are so controlled that I'm guessing briefcase or Handler little time stopping trick. I'm so proud of my mass murder baby.

... Vending machine? Lady, you have interesting priorities.

CRICKET BAT!

Wait! AJ's human body feels pain? How?

Please make Five swallow the fish like in the comics! Please, please, please, please.

The dancers are just like

I LOVE FIVE! The lengths this little killer will go for his family are unbelievable, nobody should ever doubt his love and devotion for them ever again.

This whole murder scene was incredible and Five's obvious glee made it even better. FEAR HIM!

Jesus, Klaus is so afraid of being possessed that he's afraid to sleep and Ben just mocks him? 😘💋 I get that this is supposed to be a funny 'brothers messing with each other' kind of thing but Klaus feels so unsafe that it makes me uncomfortable. What happened to you, Ben, when did you become so dark? You were the nice one!

Ben just getting closer and closer every time Klaus closes his eyes just gave me Doctor Who flashbacks.

"I hate your face" "I hate all of you" - Don't say that boys! You know you love each other.

Ok, Ben has a point. I'm actually liking this conversation. And I'm liking that Klaus is starting to understand his brother.

Ok, this is such a brother conversation. And Klaus constantly pretending not to know who Jill is 😆

Ground rules... Well, at least it's consensual now. That's something. See? Communication works.

Damn, the tension at the lunch table cut be cut with a knife. I'm scared what Carl is going to do.

Ray and Allison have a lovely relationship but I finally identified the problem, the tension I was feeling between since them a few eps back. It's not about Allison's secrets at all, is about Ray being so obsessed with his crusade that he completely overlooks Allison's feelings, he only pays attention to her when they are on the page about the mission. He sees her powers and his first thought is 'we could use this for the cause', Allison is clearly distressed and sad and even says she doesn't feel well and all he can think about is the damn JFK meeting. He's not a bad person and he's not doing it on purpose but he has a workaholic one-track mind that could easy turn into neglect for Allison. He clearly loves her and I'm rooting for them so much but I know that if asked to choose between Allison and his cause, he'll pick his cause.

So Five is done with the killing. I figured this might weigh on his conscience, it's one thing to kill for a greater good or survival, coldly and detached, it's another thing to slaughter for selfish reasons (even if his selfish reasons are a greater good).

Handler going all mom on him and wiping his face. 😆

"What I did today, I did for my family" -we know, baby, and they better respect you for it. You love then so much.

90 minutes??? Wtf, I knew Handler would try to screw Five over but that's just cruel, she's forcing him to uproot the family without even giving them time to say goodbye and that's even IF he can get to all of them on time.

It's not a name, you idiots. Also, that's Olga, not öga.

Don't harass the poor woman... Oh God, you guys are such morons... Diego, you dramatic little bitch...

"Wrong number. Have a lovely day" 🤣🤣🤣

I love the new dumbass buddy cop dynamic between Diego and Luther. This is the sort of positive brotherly dynamic they always should have had instead of being pitted against each other all their lives.

"you have some blood on you" "a lot of blood, actually. Five, what did you do?" -the casual, mildly annoyed way they ask is hilarious, if they knew what he did they'd be horrified (and possibly impressed).

Handler's militaristic chic dress is fabulous. I personally don't like it very much (or the message it sends) but it's haute couture and incredibly designed. Also, the bleached hair is back!

"any questions?" And then she leaves without listening. Power move 😏

Luther trying to comfort Diego like the dork he is. 🤣

Really though, I feel bad for Diego, and Five is under so much pressure that I don't blame him for snapping.

"I'm shy" -are you, Klaus? Are you really? You keep walking around in underwear in front of dozens of people, you're not shy.

So is Klaus lactose intolerant?

Ok, so far the possession thing is not as bad as some people were claiming. So far.

"stay focused" *giggle* -oh Ben, you dork 😆

Ahah, Ben enjoying all the different sensory stimuli. Adorable. He's just so happy, poor boy.

Dirt angels. SO CUTE ❤️

I know this all supposed to be cute and all but it would also be a perfect moment for Ben for experience Klaus's powers (the constant hauntings) as well as his addiction and the claustrophobic expectations of the cult. It would be an excellent chance to make Ben understand why Klaus is the way he is, seeing as Klaus is making a huge effort (and sacrifice) to do the same for Ben. Unfortunately, I don't see that happening because I think they want to keep this part about Ben.

By end of season 1 Klaus cried that people still didn't take him seriously, his compassion despite all his suffering made him likeable and deep, but this season he's back to being the family joke, I don't like that there's no resolution to that. But let's see where this goes, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Oh God, Carl's talk is freaking me out.

"who I am is not a disease" -very powerful LGBT+ statement considering it's the 60s!!!!

Oh, the blackmail...

Everybody keeps expecting Vanya to explode every time she gets emotional but this scene proves how much control she truly has. Respect!

Oh, finally Claire is mentioned! I've been rather upset that Allison hasn't mentioned her daughter even once this season (does Ray even know he has a stepdaughter?) seeing as most of her arc in season 1 revolved around her love and guilt over Claire.

Luther is right when he says they don't get live formal lives because they are special but Allison is even more right when she says that's not fair. This is why this family needs to stick together and love each other, they are the only ones that can really understand each other's struggles.

"hope" -Luther, you really are such a sweet summer child.

OH! I CAN FINALLY SEE ALLISON'S SCAR! The lighting in this scene makes it really obvious. Finally.

Ben and the strawberry. 🤣

"you're different today. You're dorkier" ah! First time anyone called Ben 'Sassy' Hargreeves dorky.

Oh Ben, you're adorable... Wait, "smell your hair"? What the fuck, Ben? You weirdo.

Holy crap! Jill is really forward, isn't she? Hippies, man.

Ben stuttering! 😆🤣 He died a virgin, didn't he?

It's funny but please tell me he isn't actually considering that in his brother's body...

Wait, did Klaus slap him because he doesn't want to have sex or because he's trying to stop Ben from ruining his own chance by saying too much?

Actually, I'm almost sure it's the second one, Klaus is playing wingman on his own body!

WHAT????

Ok so Ben IS a virgin but "you, me and Keechie"? What the fuck, Klaus? You slept with the fanatical crybaby and your brother's crush????

"Klaus, you're so filthy!" "Yes, you are, daddy." -Ben, this girl is not right for you. Run, boy!

AHAHAHAH ASDFGDDGGHSGSGASFHDBKDIS 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 DIEGO CALLING HIM DADDY!

Wait, AJ can speak without the body/suit/whatever?

Handler is going a little bit fascist dictator, isn't she?

Gotta admit, Handler really is such a mom in her own twisted way.

Ben giggling when he talks to Diego. Cute.

"Luther sniffs Dad's underwear" 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

AWWWWWWWW, BEN AND DIEGO! THE CHILDHOOD HIJINKS! THE HUG!

GOD, THE HUG! ❤️

I need all the siblings hugging Ben now!

"you stay in this body, we need someone responsible behind the wheel" -Diego, I understand what you mean given the situation, but you playing obvious favorites between your brothers when free will and body autonomy are on the line is a little creepy.

"no one is insignificant" -that line is so loaded when used on Vanya.

Oh no, Vanya and Five playing the blame game is so bad... They used to be so close... They are both under so much pressure, this won't end well.

Oh boy, Five looks like he's on the verge of crying and Vanya sees that! I bet that's why she backed down. 😲😢

The Lila and Diego conversation is heartbreaking without even trying...

Is that Elliot? Is Diego burying Elliot because nobody else will? Diego really does have a heart of gold.

Don't drinkit! I'm pretty sure Lila is drugging you.

Yup, there it is.

What is she planning?

Once again, it's all about the movement with Ray.

"I would take my one year with you over a lifetime with anybody else." 😭 Oh Ray ❤️

But I get the feeling this won't end so easily.

There it is, the Swedes just arrived. And the smart assholes went right for Allison's throat.

You don't need the coffee can, Sissy. The Hargreeves are loaded.

Sissy, hurry up.

BEN, YOU ARE SUCH A 90s KID!!! So the Backstreet Boys are Ben's fault, God, I love this dork 🤣

Come on, Allison, you can fight better than this!

Good girl!

Klaus and Ben running and fighting each other at the same time 😆

Holy shit, that is some Exorcist level vomiting!

Poor Klaus, I totally get Ben's side in this (pretty sure he was trying to save Klaus by getting him to Five ASAP) but this whole thing made me mildly uncomfortable. Klaus just keeps sacrificing for everyone and nobody respects his boundaries.

Holy shit, Allison! That is so cruel! I like it though, so ruthless and vicious. 😈

Problem- Allison can't just leave Ray with a white corpse in the house. Especially not in Texas, death penalty and all.

Oh Sissy, you dumbass. You're a sweetheart but also a dumbass.

Ok, Lila is pretty insane. That's for sure.

Five:

"I don't want to hurt you" - well, Vanya warned them.

My baby is getting really good with her powers.

I hope that hit to the head doesn't give Vanya her memory back, that's so cliché and convenient, or would be really bad writing.

SHIT IS HITTING THE FAN. I'm dying to see more!!!!!!

#tua #tua s2 #tua s2 spoilers

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soldixrqin · 4 years

Text

“Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive and will come forth later in uglier ways.”

Location: Fire Nation Villages / The Palace Courtyard

Time: A day prior to Firelord Zuko’s coronation and the day after it

"Yes, that is a carrot in the stew." Qin cracked the tiniest bit of a smile, as he packed his stuff for yet another journey ahead. The old lady who had sheltered him for the past two days was so kind to the boy, he couldn’t dare leave her until he was sure everything he could do to help her was done. "But I do have to go, now."

It was the coronation after all. All Fire Nation citizens were expected to go. Qin Lee didn't know how to define himself, however. Yes, he was a citizen. Was. Then he was turned into a soldier, oppressed by Ozai's wrath and now... well, it was like he was a newborn again. His life had taken another turn of helping and nurturing those who needed it behind this facade of a stonefaced, exhausted soldier. Poor people from the villages he'd visit knew who he was, a necklace dangling around his neck reminding him and them of what preceded him. They knew who Qin supported back then, but did he have any choice? Yet, through his actions and almost no words spoken, he showed that he cared now. He tried to convince people that he was on the side of the spear rather than the handle. Or at least, he tried.

"Thank you for everything." Qin bowed slightly, his right hand forming a fist and pressing into his straightened left hand. A traditional Fire Nation symbol of respect.

"You'll miss it, young boy. If you so wish to see Ozai's little one take the golden flame in his ebony hair, you might as well have began travelling yesterday!” the old lady said with a painful undertone in her voice.

Qin remembered stopping in the middle of the woods as celebrations due to Fire Lord Zuko's coronation raged on in the far distance. He could hear cheers and festive songs of freedom. Yet for Qin Lee, there was no escaping Ozai's blood.

Even though it was all over and the soldier was finally free from his duty, Qin couldn't help but remember how they treated soldiers like dogs. Each day there was a looming guillotine over their head, coated with fire and waiting for one tiny slip up to make them pay for their mistakes. Those days were over, Qin had attempted to imprint in his brain. It will be different. Repent, atone, do not explode. Yet when old doe eyes looked at him and reminded him that it's just another of Phoenix King’s bloodline to come upon the throne, Qin was sickened to the core.

And so he missed the coronation. But he'd never miss what was to come. It came from mouth to mouth. From villagers to workers to lumbers and finally - to Qin himself. Riots, protests, opposition. Rebellion. 'No, Qin. You are over it. You shouldn't give in to people rebelling. What if you burn for this as well? What if this becomes your next sin instead of your redemption?'

People were marching around Qin, the early dawn filled with chants from all around the village he had decided to settle in for the night outside the Fire Nation Capitol. The picture in front of him was familiar to him. Countless times before, he was ordered to repress these people, the ones wanting change. He was forced to tell them to subdue their opinions and lower their voice or face the Firelord's judgement. Yet now, he was on the other end of the rope, pulling at the side of justice. As countless of men, women and children slowly made their way towards the gates if the Capitol City, Qin was faced with a decision that would mark the beginning of his journey to mend his relations with the people. A woman ran by him, almost knocking him off his feet, chanting "WE WANT CHANGE, WE WANT JUSTICE" while whispers traveled through his ears of Firelord Zuko's intent for Secret Meetings of his council. The clock was ticking for Qin.

Should he vanish for his own good and leave the protestors be - or join them to seek answers about the damage done to his family, to his nation and to his sanity?

It was not long before they were at the Palace's courtyard where just a day ago festivities were held. Firework dust and spilled food from yesterday's celebrations still wandered on the ground as rioters kicked and spitted down on it. Lurking in the crowd, Qin couldn't help but agree with what the people wanted to say. They wanted transparency above all, they wanted their new Firelord to listen and act righteous instead of secrecy and potential terrorism. They were right to be scared and afraid, for they have seen it all when it comest to injustice. Qin couldn't blame them. He knew first hand why this had to be insisted of.

"... And I'm sure the war veterans here would agree with me!" One of the screaming rioters said, looking at Qin with a questionably raised eyebrow, waiting for an expression out of the ex-soldier. People slowly began turning to him, twisting their necks or shifting their bodies so they could see better. That was it for a peaceful tea sipping and daydreaming while enjoying a protest, it seemed.

"I-... I don't think there's much to be said." The people kept silent, either in disbelief or anticipation. All the bubbling thoughts in Qin suddenly began simmering as every pair of eyes fixated on him. They all expected for him to lead or step up with a message for the people he once poked with a weapon and threatened with fire. It took every living fiber of his body not to move as more people gathered around him, the circle they formed reminding Qin of a rope around his neck.

"But you do deserve the justice you seek. We all do." Words escaped his lips as if it was conscience speaking. Tired and war-exhausted eyes all around Qin looked at him with glory and hope, eyes that saw brutalities as much as his own pair did. "It's time to stand up and never allow the Phoenix to once again rise. We must insist that for the safety of those who will follow us. For our children and the children of their own!" He looked at the Palace, never knowing if Firelord Zuko would ever hear his sudden outburst.

"For this time, we'll clip his wings just as fast as ours had once been clipped." Qin's voice was biting, almost hurting. It was like poison was dripping from a viper's fangs while his pray thought they were safe. "We are watching!" His voice roared, "And we won't stay silent anymore."

With his final words Qin pushed away the man that had forced him to talk, making his way away from this mess. All this time of silence and patience not to ever explode again had gone to waste. Even though he wanted change, Qin's heart still wasn't ready to get into yet another fight, past ghosts haunting him and memories dancing a weeping waltz in his head. But the venom he had spilled did cause a chain reaction, a rippling effect. The people behind him turned into an angry mob ready to scream at the top of their lungs their wishes to the newly-appointed Firelord.

And as the chants persisted, Qin Lee pinned his eyes on the Palace, onyx stones trying to see the Firelord behind the walls. 'Be better. Please be different.' Qin thought to himself, putting his hood on and making his way through the rising tides of rioters and people looking for a new era of freedom.

#( self para )#( plot drop )#HELLO!#i kinda combined both events soooo i hope that's ok?

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tinyandsteven · 5 years

Text

Tony’s Guide to Raising An Alien Child

3k Words.

Helping a stranded alien child wasn’t on Tony’s agenda, nor growing fond of said child.

or; Tony adopts an alien child.

Also on ao3

The Audi purred under Tony’s touch. The leather of the steering wheel was nice and cold under his tight grip, which brought a comfort to him. The firm hold grounded him, eased away the emptiness that threatened to creep over his skin deep down into his bones until it swallowed him whole.

He had just visited Jarvis’ grave and brought him some fresh flowers. Tony had lit a candle while he leaned against the gravestone and told Jarvis about everything that happened since the last time he visited him. It always put him in a melancholy mood, like someone had punched him in the chest and left a hole that let all the good memories with Jarvis bleed to the surface.

It was Jarvis who was there for him when Howard pushed, beat, and broke him, time and time again. He would clean the wounds, listen to Tony’s silent, stuttered apologies and explanations, offering a comfort that Howard never even thought of. The man was more of a father to Tony than Howard ever was, so Tony missed him dearly.

It had been a hard day. He had a nightmare that had woken him up with a start, leaving him sweat-soaked and panting. Flashes of dirty water disrupted his vision - people yelling at him, pushing his head into a tank with ice-cold water as the car battery attached to his chest sent sparks of electricity to his core, numbing his insides. His burning lungs were the only thing that reminded him that he was still alive, that he was still breathing. Oh, how he wished he wasn’t in that moment. Immediately upon waking, he had checked for a hole in his chest; searching for guards who would push him right under and a friend who was no longer alive.

Pepper had broken up with him after the palladium poisoning fiasco and took away the only healthy coping mechanism and form of comfort. She might be tough and collected for the public eye, but provided Tony with loving words and soothing touches, a steady and kind presence in his life that would calm him like no other. She had promised to be always there for him and listen to him, but he felt awkward even mentioning his nightly terrors to her now. It seemed too intimate, and they weren’t close like that anymore. It wasn’t her fault. He would never blame her.

So he did what he always did to take his mind off of his troubles: he took the day off to get out of the city and visit his old friend. A change of scenery was supposed to work wonders, Pepper once told him, and so he tried - but all the visit really did was make him more mournful than he already was.

The highway back into the city was empty as if the world seemed to know that Tony Stark needed a moment to himself. He had opened the convertible hood of the car before he started his journey home to feel the wind blow in his face. The red-tinted sunglasses on his nose covered the tear streaks running down his face. The sunset reflected in Tony’s sunglasses, tinting the world in a peaceful and comfortable ambiance.

A deafening noise and a blinding light pulled Tony from his thoughts, and he slammed on the brakes. For a moment the car slithered over the road before he managed to stop it on the side of the highway. The genius stilled in his seat, his knuckles white from the tight grip on the steering wheel. He slowly turned his head to where the crash had coming from.

“J.A.R.V.I.S, activate the gauntlet,” Tony mumbled while he tapped a code into his watch, his eyes still trained into the distance. The armor covered his wrist and snuck up his palm before it wrapped around his finger. The repulsor charged, ready to attack. He was always prepared for a fight, no longer trusting anyone. Not after Stane’s betrayal.

Tony slowly stepped out of the car, leaving the door open in case he had to escape quickly. He stepped closer to the crash site. Whatever had caused the loud noise was obscured by a cloud of dust.

“Is anyone hurt? Do you need help?” Tony yelled, his covered hand stretched out. Coughing and rumbling could be heard as the cloud started to vanish. Tony made out a bizarre, round construction that looked a lot like a spaceship he had seen in the Star Wars movies with Pepper. He had never seen a car in such a shape.

It didn’t have any wheels like the cars he had on the lower levels of his lab. No typical form of an automobile and he couldn’t make out a steering wheel on the inside of the odd-looking thing.

His stomach was slowly sinking, brows furrowing as the realization started to sink in. It wasn’t a car. It was an extraterrestrial plane. No, not a plane. A ship. It was a real spaceship. It didn’t seem possible, and yet here it was.

The machine seemed to give up on life, the sounds and blinking lights fading. He averted his eyes from the ship to a small figure crawling away from the ship. Was the person purple or was his mind playing tricks on him again? Tony took off the glasses and squinted, not ready to come closer to whatever was trying to escape.

“Hey, you! Stop!” he shouted at the figure. The person turned around in what seemed like utter shock. Its skin was no longer purple but matched his own now. Was it purple to begin with? God, Tony needed to get a nice drink once he got home, catch some rest and forget today ever happened.

Tony took a closer look and soon realized that he was looking at a cowering boy - a boy that looked more afraid than Tony felt. Huh, he thought. He didn’t even seem like a threat.

Tony let his hand sink and crouched down to be eye level with the boy. He looked not a day older than fourteen, with big, brown, doe-like eyes and a mop of messy curls on top of his head. Were those antennas?

The child blinked at him, seemingly contemplating what to do next. He didn’t move or breathe, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

Tony cleared his throat before he spoke. He tried to keep his voice soft and low, forgetting about his former turmoil. “Hey, I am Tony. I won’t hurt you if you promise to not hurt me, even though I doubt you’ll get very far with your ship.” he snorted at his last words, lifting both hands in a peace offering.

The Alien boy’s eyes followed Tony’s hand, widening every passing moment as he took in the gauntlet. Golden dots and tiny strokes appeared under his eyes and on his neck, running down his arms to his knuckles, illuminating his pale skin. The antennas started to vibrate.

Tony watched in wonder as the boy’s skin started to glow, fascinated with his reactions. He eventually followed the boy’s gaze to his hands and realized his mistake.

“Oh, you’re afraid of the armor,” Tony concluded and wiggled his finger. A smile crept on his face as he asked J.A.R.V.I.S to deactivate the gauntlet. The red glove disappeared back into his watch, leaving not only his hand bare but also his whole being. He was vulnerable without his armor, but the boy didn’t seem to be a threat, so he figured he was safe for now.

“Do you even understand what I’m saying?” Tony asked the boy, letting his arms fall. The boy nodded slowly and deliberately.

“My head is able to translate your language into mine, and my language into yours when I speak,” the little alien whispered, his shoulders still tense and on alert, like Tony would still attack him any second. He reminded the man of a frightened animal. With a sigh, Tony fell to his knees and stretched out his hand, palm up, not even caring about dirtying his expensive dress pants.

“I have no intention of hurting you. You wanna know how I see the situation?” he gave the alien a moment for a reaction and continued after a boy gave him a tiny nod.

“You crashed on a foreign planet and you have no way of taking off again anytime soon, because, I am sorry to say, buddy, your ship seems to be quite useless at the moment. So you are basically stranded here alone and not knowing anyone,” Tony guessed. The man’s words made the boy’s shoulder sag with every word. The young alien started to fiddle with his hands in a nervous manner and turned his eyes away from Tony and to his damaged ship, noticeably shaken from the fact that the man was correct about his situation.

“I am Peter,” he mumbled after a while. “and you are right.” Peter looked up again, his eyes fixed on Tony’s while he tugged on the sleeves of his silver suit. “I don - I don’t know what to do or where to go.” the boy admitted after a while, his tense posture dropped in defeat.

Oh, how Tony wished he could just turn around, get into his car, drive home and pretend this never happened. The whiskey that was stashed away in one of the kitchen cabinets would surely help with the process of forgetting, but the boy seemed helpless and something inside Tony pulled at his heartstrings. He could leave Peter there, letting him fend for himself and not deal with the consequences of suggesting what he was about to suggest. Tony let his eyes fall shut and hummed, just considering the options.

Someone would find the ship eventually. It was quite large. People would ask questions and the government would bring out their big guns to search for whoever crashed the spaceship in the first place. They would find Peter at some point because the alien probably couldn’t go very far without any help and Tony doubted that the boy had any knowledge about humans. He would step right into their trap and they would lock him up and experiment on him. And did Tony really want that on his conscience?

“Look, kid, I am a mechanic. I can get someone to pick up your ship and help you get it fixed.” Tony eventually said with a heavy sigh, taking a look at the ship as well. He had to see if he could work with the hardware and make sure that repair parts were available.

Peter seemed hesitant at first. The boy chewed on his lips, considering his options as well. “Why would you help me?” Peter asked the man, a wary look in his eyes. Eyes that looked suspiciously a lot like Tony’s.

“What other options do you have, hm? That’s the best outcome, really. You could either accept my help or get caught and be experimented on,” Tony explained with a shrug. “And you remind me of myself,” he added under his breath.

Tony didn’t lie. The young alien reminded him of himself. He not only shared some significant features with the man, like the exact same shape of his eyes but also acted like a younger Tony.

Peter looked at him for a solid minute, not blinking once before he stood up. He dusted off some dirt from his suit and put his hands on his hips.

“Alright, Tony. Show me the way. How many moon rises till we get to your accommodation?” The young alien asked the man and started to march in the wrong direction. He had gone from scared and afraid to determined and purposeful. For a moment Tony wondered whether or not he made the right decision to take in a stranded alien boy. After all, what did he know about aliens? And who knew what intentions this particular alien had. Tony did have a record of trusting the wrong people.

“Kid, come on. That’s not the way. I parked my car over there.” Tony stopped the boy, putting a hand on his shoulder and turning him around. He pointed to his parked vehicle on the highway. The boy tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, a curious expression crept on his features.

“What is a car, Tony?” he asked with furrowed brows. A quick glance at the hand on his shoulder made the boy stop in his tracks. The touch had nothing intimidating about it. It was rather guiding, Peter decided. None of his senses started to ring and alarm him. Tony seemed to be a genuine person with sincere intentions. He could trust him for now.

“It’s a little like your space ship here. It can’t fly and I bet it’s not as fast, but it transports us where we need to go.” Tony informed him and started to walk towards the car, pushing the boy forward as well.

“Okay.” It took Peter a few moments but eventually he started walking. The man’s hand was comforting on his back. After spending so much time alone on his ship, he started to miss other presences next to him. He got lonely pretty quickly and being able to interact with a person after so long, even if the man was a stranger to him, was refreshing.

It was quite a sight to see the boy stop in front of the car. Confusion laced the alien’s features as he crossed his arms, his antennas vibrating. Tony opened the passenger door for him.

“Come on, kid. It’s getting late. It was a difficult day for me so I would appreciate if we could just go home and sort this mess out tomorrow, huh?” Tony dragged a tired hand over his face, scratching his goatee. Peter did as he was told, his eyes never leaving the older man. Tony closed the door and got into the driver’s seat. “And if I am lucky, this whole day turns out to be just a bad dream,” he muttered under his breath. Not really wanting for Peter to hear any of it in case this mess was not a dream after all.

“What is a kid? You have been calling me that.” Peter asked as soon as Tony helped the boy to fasten the belt.

“Well, it’s another term for a child,” Tony said after a while, trying to get back onto the road. A throbbing pain started to spread from the front of his head to his temples. A migraine was exactly what was missing in this situation.

God, what was he even doing, picking up a stray alien? Pepper would know what to do in such a situation. She was the rational one. The one who always saw the big picture. But wasn’t that the reason why Tony drove her away in the end? Because he was lacking all these qualities? Pepper was everything Tony wasn’t, and in the end, Tony wasn’t enough to keep her by his side.

“I will let you know, that I am in no way a child! I am three moon changes old.” Peter informed him, while his eyes wandered over the board computer. He compared the screens, buttons and hand gear to his own ship, letting his fingertips slide over it.

Tony didn’t answer the young alien, not only because he was tired but the headache made it impossible to think straight, especially when the boy let words and phrases slip that made no sense to the genius. The man just hummed in acknowledgment.

Peter was silent during the drive, that was until they entered the busy streets of New York. They spend more time standing and waiting in the traffic than actually driving. Peter had his hands and face pressed against the window, watching the bustle of the city with a curious twinkle in his eyes. Tony winced at the action. The boy would leave handprints and stains all over the window, much to Happy’s chagrin. He could already see the man getting into a fuss about it.

Tony could feel the excitement radiating from the alien. He watched Peter turning in his seat and getting comfortable on his knees. Little wows and ohs slipped past his lips in astonishment. Tony’s finger drummed on the steering wheel as he watched the boy, waiting for the traffic light to turn green.

“Peter,” he addressed the child while he grabbed something from the back seat and placed it in the kid’s lap. “Put this on.”

Peter averted his eyes from the outside world to the fabric in his lap. He adjusted in his seat to get comfortable, examining the piece of clothing. It was a top but with long sleeves and a what seemed to be like a hood. It was a thicker material than the fabric of his suit and had Stark Industries written on the chest. It was softer than any of the tight suits Peter had to wear since he was born.

“What is it for?” Peter asked, his brows furrowed and his head tilted. He looked a little like a puppy.

“We’re almost there. It will help hide your - well your, you know,” Tony pointed to the antennas. “Humans don’t have those. The hoodie will prevent unwanted attention.”

Peter looked up to where Tony had pointed, nudging one of his antennas. The antennas were a sensitive area and the touch made him giggle.

“Oh, I didn’t even notice that they were still there. My transformation wasn’t as successful as I thought it was.” The boy said, while he pulled the sweater over his head. “Also I think it’s the right moment to inform you that I copied about 97% of your DNA to look like a human.”

Tony should have been horrified by the boy’s confession, but he was tired and strung out and it was a really really long day for him. Now, he hadn’t the time to unpack all of that. It could all wait till tomorrow. He huffed in response and tried not to yell and honk at the next bastard that tried to cut him off. All he wanted was to go home and fall into his from Japan exported silk sheets and sleep for three days straight. Maybe in another life.

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