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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Real? Not Real?

Prompt: Uh hello, I just wanna day that I really really love your work. I came across it this morning and I’ve been binging it all day, and you are a REALLY good writer :) if it’s not too much to ask (and feel free to ignore this), could I request one of the Sides (preferably Janus) having a bad day and derealizing and another one (preferably Patton or Remus, but really any work) comforting them and helping them get grounded? Maybe something that is after the wedding, with everyone at odds with each other so no one notices at first?

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: disassociation, derealizing, some things that could be interpreted as self-destruction

Pairings: none, other than platonic moceit and dukeceit

Word Count: 2287

The wall is yellow.

The wall isn’t yellow.

The wall is yellow.

Janus pushes his door closed and sighs, leaning against the wood and taking his hat off. He scruffs a hand through his hair and lets his head thunk against the door.

“Well,” he mutters, “that wasn’t exhausting.”

The conversation had dragged on for hours; from picking apart every little idiosyncrasy and explaining every other word, it’s a wonder he had any energy left to even sink to his room.

Well, he didn’t. That’s the point.

He heaves himself up off the floor, stumbling a little when his body decides that no, actually, we’re going to remain on the floor because we dislike you personally.

“Thank you,” he grits out as he fights the urge to collapse back to the floor, “no, really, I wanted to be able to fall over as soon as I tried to move.”

When the floor looks like it stops spinning for a few seconds at a time, he reaches for his cane and shuffles over to the desk. The chair creaks a little in protest as he all but collapses into it. He tosses his hat toward the coat rack, missing terribly, and rips his gloves off.

“Ah!”

Janus cups his hand around his wrist, biting back a curse as the glove catches on the underside of an older scale. He glances around. The first-aid kit is on the other shelf.

“Damn.”

He could just…stretch out and get it? Probably? He swallows and reaches. And reaches. And reaches.

Why—why can’t he touch the shelf?

Controlling limbs gets exponentially easier the longer and more disembodied they get. All the time.

Janus grits his teeth and concentrates, closing his eyes until his fingers bump against the shelf.

“Thank you,” he mutters as he brings the first aid kit back to his side. “That was certainly the picture of compliance.”

The first aid kit, because it is an inanimate object—or rather, a collection of inanimate objects—says nothing.

Trying to apply first aid one-handed is such fun. He ends up holding back the sleeve with his teeth as he rubs the ointment onto the patch left by the scale. The wrapper sticks to his fingers with the determination of a static-filled leech, refusing to budge even as he pries it off with one hand only for it to attach viciously to the other.

“Get off!”

It flutters down to lay infuriatingly close to the trash can.

Or is it in the trash can?

He reaches down to pick it up and put it inside. He can’t feel it through his gloves. So he takes them off. Maybe then it won’t get stuck. It lands in the trashcan noiselessly.

Muttering to himself, he gets his gloves on their spot on his desk and goes about getting the rest of this stuff off. Snakes aren’t supposed to run warm, so why can’t he feel anything?

He goes to undo the clasp on his cape only for his fingers to meet the soft fabric of his shirt. Oh. He must’ve taken it off already. Wait, did he even put it on when he left?

He glances over to see it hanging on the hook by the door. Exactly where it was when he woke up this morning. Or was it? Wasn’t it draped over his chair? No, that was when he was about to leave.

No, he put it on his doorknob, didn’t he? To make sure he didn’t forget it?

But he never forgets his cape.

Janus shakes his head, immediately regretting it when the action sends him into a dizzy spell. God, why is he so tired?

It doesn’t matter, he decides, because he was going to take his cape off but now he doesn’t have to because it’s already off. So he can take his shirt off now.

But first, he should take his gloves off. Trying to undo shirt buttons with gloves on is a tedious process.

His fingers scratch the bandage over a spot on his hand. That’s funny. He doesn’t feel any pain coming from it. Maybe it’s healed already?

No, no, he just put that bandage on.

“Get yourself together,” he scolds himself, going to undo the buttons, “you’re being ridiculous.”

Is he, though?

He spent so long observing and mirroring the others today, just to get in the habit of it when he needs to, that is it really a surprise that he can’t really remember what his own limbs are doing?

Yes. Yes, it is.

His shirt lies in the corner. He doesn’t remember putting it there. He’s still wearing it, he hasn’t gotten all the buttons off yet. His fingers touch his bare scales. Oh. Maybe he has.

Why does it look like it’s the wrong color?

Janus squints hard at the offending pile of fabric lurking in the corner. As he stares, the fabric moirés into a dizzying display. He blinks. That shirt isn’t patterned. It’s just a plain white shirt. Why is it doing that? Is it doing that? Are Janus’s eyes doing that?

He crosses the room, stumbling a little as he gets up—since when has that table been there?—and grabs the shirt. It folds and bends and warps around his fingers. It should be cool to the touch. The fabric is soft, normally.

He can only tell he’s supposedly squeezing it from the wrinkles that appear around his fists.

“This doesn’t belong here,” he mutters, going to put it in the laundry basket.

The laundry basket is not where it’s supposed to be.

“Fuck.”

Did he leave it downstairs? That’s always a risky move; Remus will capitalize on any opportunity to completely and utterly destroy any abandoned object. He turns to go rescue his laundry basket only for it to appear out of the corner of his eye.

Oh.

Has it been there the whole time?

Janus frowns. He looks at the laundry basket, he looks at the shirt, he looks at his cape, he looks at his gloves.

The bandage on his wrist should be itching.

It isn’t.

Why not?

Oh.

He smiles to himself and lets the shirt fall to the ground.

Right, how could he forget?

This isn’t real.

None of this is real. He doesn’t exist. He is a figment of Thomas’s imagination, created as part of an elaborate plan to explore personality facets for entertainment purposes. He is not real. He cannot exist in any way that matters.

That is why the first aid kit won’t speak to him. That is why his shirt creates patterns that are impossible. That is why the laundry basket keeps appearing and disappearing. They’re not real. None of it is real.

He is not real.

The walks flicker a pale white as he sinks slowly to the ground, staring up at the fake ceiling. The floor is not solid under him. His legs do not groan and scream in protest as he lies his nonexistent weight across them. His eyes do not fog up. His head does not throb. The door does not feel like a cage, trapping him in a spiral of down, down, down.

Nothing is real.

Least of all time.

…

…quiet.

“—nus!”

“Janus, are you in there?”

“Snake-Face, if you don’t open up right this instant, I swear—“

“Kiddo, you never came down for dinner, we’re worried, are you alright?”

“I’m gonna break this fucking door down.”

“Remus, no—!”

A loud thud does not startle him awake. His eyes do not fly open. His body does not refuse to respond as chunks of wood fly all over his room. The walls do not look like they’re transparent as someone peers at him. They are not real.

“Janus? Oh my goodness, Janus!”

Patton. Patton is also not real. That is okay.

Patton does not rush across the floor to him and fall to his knees. His eyes aren’t welled up with tears that he bravely tries to fight back, smiling down at him. Patton’s hands do not cup his face tenderly. He doesn’t say anything.

“Kiddo?”

He cannot speak. Real things cannot speak.

“Kiddo, can you hear me?” Patton does not stroke his thumb gently over his cheek. “Can you breathe?”

Real things do not breathe.

“Fuck,” Remus does not swear, “he’s derealizing again.”

“He’s what?”

“Derealizing.” Remus does not run to crouch beside them. Remus does not gently tuck his hands under his legs to lift them into a more comfortable position. “Gets stuck in his own head, caught up in his own lies.”

Patton does not help Remus. He does not cradle his head and lift it up. The pillow suddenly under his head is not real, not soft, not pleasantly cool. His hand does not stay in his hair, stroking gently.

“He’s overcorrecting,” Remus does not murmur, “convincing himself that nothing is real.”

“Oh, kiddo,” Patton doesn’t sigh, doesn’t ruffle his hair gently, “you’re real, kiddo, stay with us.”

“He’s not gonna believe you, Daddio.”

“Then what do we do?”

“You’re not gonna like it,” Remus doesn’t say.

He doesn’t get up and leave. Patton doesn’t stay, still stroking his hand through his hair soothingly. Is it soothing? Does it feel soft? Caring?

Patton—Patton is caring, right?

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart,” Patton doesn’t—does?—murmur, “you’ll get through this, okay? You’ll get through this, I know you will.”

“Here.”

Oh, Remus is back. Is? Isn’t? Is Remus real?

“Just hold this, okay?”

“It’s really warm, are you sure—?”

“That’s what the towel’s for.”

Remus doesn’t crouch back down next to him. Patton isn’t gripping whatever Remus just gave him in his fist. He doesn’t look worried.

Wait, why is he worried?

“Ah!”

He cries out in surprise when something freezing presses to his stomach. Cold. Cold, cold—

“Shh, easy, Snakey,” Remus soothes—wait, doesn’t soothe? Is Remus real?—immediately replacing the cold with something warm, warm, warm, “it’s okay, it’s gone now, you did great, just stay here, okay?”

“Re-Remus?”

“Yeah, Jan-Jan, it’s me, I’m right here, can you grab onto me?”

He can’t, he’s not real, Remus isn’t real, but Remus is right there—

“There you go,” Remus encourages when his fingers hook through the ends of his sleeves, “you got me, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Why—what happened? Why are you here?”

“You never came down to dinner, kiddo,” Patton says, stroking his solidwarmreal hand through his hair again, “we got worried. No one could call you and the room wasn’t letting us sink.”

Well of course it wasn’t, it isn’t real.

Wait.

“How did—“ he gasps— “how did you know I was here?”

Patton frowns, tilting his head. “Because we care about you, kiddo, you’re important to us.”

How can he be important when he isn’t real?

“Hey,” Remus says sharply, giving his wrist a little tug, “no drifting off again, Snakey, stay here.”

“H-here?”

“Yeah.” Remus presses the hot pad into his stomach and oh, it’s so warm, it has to be real. “Right here, Jan-Jan. You feel this?”

“Yes.”

“This is real. This is real. I’m really here, I’m really holding this to your real stomach. You’re real. The floor is real. Patton’s real.”

Patton’s real?

“I’m real, sweetheart,” Patton says softly, still rubbing his hand through his hair, “and so are you.”

He opens his mouth to try and breathe. If he’s real, he should be able to breathe…right?

“That’s it, kiddo, good.” The hand in his hair moves again. “Just lie there and breathe for a moment, okay?”

He looks over at Remus. Remus starts to rub little circles into his stomach with the warm towel.

“Stay here, stay real, Snakey,” he encourages, “just focus on this.”

The floor becomes solid under him again. Patton’s hand, his voice, he can hear them. Feel them. He blinks at Remus, real Remus, still working patiently.

He must make some noise because Remus pauses, looking up at him. Then he takes the towel and reaches up to slowly, slowly brush it over his cheek.

The tears that spring to his eyes at the tenderness of the gesture certainly feel real.

“Oh, kiddo,” Patton whispers, pulling him into a solidwarmreal chest, “it’s okay, shh, you’re safe, you’re real, everything’s okay.”

He gasps again, trapped in the warmth of Patton’s embrace. Remus scoots in behind them, wrapping his arms tightly through the limbs that still don’t want to work.

“Why can’t I move,” he chokes out, “why can’t I move?”

“You’re exhausted, sweetheart,” comes Patton’s soft reply, “you overworked yourself today.”

“But I can’t feel them!”

“Here,” he whispers, gently squeezing one of his arms, “can you feel that?”

“O-only a little.”

“How about here…and here…there.”

Patton’s hands are so warm and solid and real.

“P-Patton?”

“Yeah, kiddo, I’m right here.”

“Remus?”

“I’m here too, Snakey, we gotcha.”

“Am I—is this—“ he swallows unsteadily— “is this…real?”

“Yeah, kiddo,” Patton murmurs as Remus strokes firmly up and down his back, “this is real.”

Patton is real, solid and warm against him. Remus is real, solid and warm behind him.

Janus opens his eyes and stares at the yellow wall.

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pastelsandpining · 3 years

Text

Whumptober Day 26

alternate prompt 8: comfort

kingdom come - corrupt!zelda au part 6

warnings: didn’t see anything that could be triggering so read with caution

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By the time Link found Zelda half asleep in the Sanctum, he could hardly walk. He was shaking too hard, the nightmare chilling him to his core, and even if this was not his Zelda, even if he hated her and didn’t hate her at all, the idea of losing her again in the way he had when that chasm swallowed her was enough to have him in tears. He was almost hysterical, and he couldn’t tell if it was the fever or the dream that had his skin so uncomfortably heated. He stumbled before he could even reach her, his knees hitting the floor, and his whimper was what made her look up. She’d been sitting on the throne with the light from the windows hugging her like a golden shawl, and she’d looked so exhausted, but she raced down the steps and to his side in hardly any time at all.

“Link, why are you up?!” she exclaimed, but that surprise and frustration melted away when he grabbed for her and buried his face in her shoulder. “You’re burning…”

“I had a nightmare,” he mumbled out, feeling so akin to a child, but it was muffled by her night dress. Maybe she heard him anyway, because he felt her fingertips bury into his hair, scratching gently at his scalp. His shoulders dropped, the tension leaving his body now that he could hold her, solid and present and real. His Zelda, who was still so strong and passionate that sometimes, he could be fooled into loving her, too.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly. He should’ve reminded himself that she was only being so kind because he was sick. Instead, he held her tighter and inhaled her sweet scent, basking in the comfort that kept him rooted by her side. It was easy like this, on the days she would hug and kiss him. Link thought it happened more often, far more than it had when he first found her, but perhaps it was only his broken heart imagining what he’d yearned for instead of focusing on reality.

He could breathe again, at least. No more were sobs wracking his body, but he was still trembling hard as ever.

“You’re exhausted,” he pointed out instead of answering. “Do you sleep at all, Zelda?”

He could feel her hesitation in her pause, so he lifted his head to look up at her in concern. She frowned at him.

“Nightmares,” she replied quietly. He could understand how much that sucked. Link couldn’t offer her much comfort, so he pressed his head onto her shoulder again and closed his eyes. Her fingers could put him to sleep. He almost wished they would, but instead, he said,

“You mentioned heroes and… thousands of lifetimes.” It was an old conversation, one he thought was something only Hylia and ancient souls of her sort could recall. Relate to. “The sword… it’s had other masters, and I think they’ve all been me.”

“It’s said that Hylia and her hero reincarnate together every time they’re needed,” Zelda told him, her voice soft and far away. “I cannot say with certainty that we’ve ever been our own people.”

“I remembered, I think. Or maybe it was just… a nightmare.”

“It’s not a nightmare if it’s real.”

Link did not want to talk about it. He did not want to delve into the idea that this has happened before. That this destruction, this pain was some eternal cycle, bound to happen again and again. He would find her, love her, in every lifetime, but was there a point to it when all that would happen is losing her? He thought he had her now, even as she was, but if those dreams meant anything, anything at all, then how long was it going to be before he lost her again? It would drive him to the brink of sanity to know that this is how it was all doomed to go. It was no wonder Zelda was always so… He couldn’t even describe what she must’ve been feeling. Thinking.

“How many times has this happened?” he asked quietly. “Ganon, and us.”

“Far too many,” she answered. He could hear the edge to her voice, something that suggested she hated the idea as much as he did. Didn’t they all?

“I… I want to know everything,” he said at last, calling upon that courage he was supposed to have so much of. “About the heroes. About…whatever you’re planning.”

“It is a lot. I don’t want to put something on you that I don’t think you could handle.”

“Please.”

For the first time in months, Zelda looked at him and sighed, resigning herself to honest answers. Link could do little more than hold onto her and listen, listen to her talk about gods and heroes and princesses and legends. It all matched up, horribly so, with everything he’d dreamed about. It was nothing more than confirmation, then, that these lives of sorrow and loss had been his. Over and over again. This is what Hylia doomed him to, although he could not remember her. This is what she doomed herself to when she took upon the promise to protect that ancient artifact of great power.

“You have a piece, as well as Ganon and I. I did not lie to you when I told you that we were all connected.”

It was exhausting to hear, to think about, to know. It felt so pointless to even try, when it would all repeat again and again. Is this how it felt for her, when she was waiting endlessly for him to wake? Was she plagued with this knowledge, thinking about it until it drove her to turn her back on everything she once loved? He didn’t understand, but he supposed that was part of being human. He would never understand the experiences of other people, and that was okay. His job was to be open and accepting to them anyway, just as all of his friends had been when they offered to help. They did not deserve to live in a world that was so cursed.

“Ganon and I want to destroy it all,” Zelda admitted, though she wouldn’t look at him. She was focused instead on his hands, messing mindlessly with his fingers. “The roots of this evil, of this curse, even if we must destroy ourselves in the process. I want it over. I want it done with.”

Link frowned, averting his eyes to the floor.

“Why haven’t you done it yet?” he asked, but there was something deeper in his question he didn’t know if he wanted her to detect. Why did she wait until he was here? Why hadn’t she ended it all a century ago, when he was good and dead, instead of putting him through the memory loss, the grief, the isolation, the utter torture it’d been to sort out how he felt about Zelda? And now, she was telling him that she was going to destroy it all anyway, and everything he’d done to get to her had been for nothing.

“I didn’t want to do it without you,” Zelda said, like it was so simple, and Link took a breath to calm his racing heart. “You’re part of this too.”

“All I did was pull a sword,” he argued as he shook his head.

“And love a goddess.”

Fate was such a big thing, wasn’t it? Link could not fathom the past lives his soul had lived through. It was too much, too confusing, too painful–and somehow, through all of them, two things remained certain: Zelda and misery.

“Was it worth it?” she asked, though she was as quiet as the wind on the stillest nights, almost like she was afraid to know the answer. “Loving me, I mean. As Zelda. Or Hylia, I suppose.”

Was it worth it? He frowned, turning his head to look at her, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking anywhere but him, and the glistening on her cheeks suggested maybe she was crying.

Thousands upon hundreds of thousands of years upon lifetimes had been spent with her. Zelda, Hylia, no matter what form she came in, she was always there to provide him with comfort and love, and he’d always followed her, hadn’t he? There was not one life he lived where he hadn’t fought by her side or vowed himself to her in some way. He’d never turned his back on her and let her walk into a war alone–not willingly, and a turn out of happiness did not seem to be written in the stars for them. Still, when he thought about it, the idea of a life without her, of losing her, terrified him. It was the reason he was here to begin with; nightmares could be horrible things.

This was not the Zelda he thought he was going to find. No, this was a wary and tired soul who just wanted an end to her suffering. This was a goddess so in touch with and aware of her mortality that she wanted to give it up. Maybe she was scared. He would be scared too, if all he knew was sorrow and loss. Or maybe, at this point in his life, he was desensitized to it all, because he’d seen so much of it in those two years he spent trying to find himself.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he replied, but maybe he’d said the wrong thing because she dropped his hand like she was a child discarding a toy they’d gotten bored with. “Zelda?”

“Sometimes, I don’t know where the line is anymore,” she whispered. It sounded almost like a secret, something she was ashamed to admit. “I don’t know if I’m Hylia, or if I’m Zelda.”

“Who do you want to be?” he asked, reaching for her hand again, threading his fingers with hers when she didn’t pull away.

“Anyone else,” she murmured, ducking her head. He reached his fingers towards her, brushing her fallen hair back into place behind her ear. Anyone else. Someone normal. He could’ve been someone normal. He could’ve forgotten about the man on the plateau, the ghost of a king who’d died with him a century ago, and made a new life for himself. Maybe he should’ve, but he would never outrun the guilt that Zelda could never do the same.

Link didn’t know what words to offer her. There probably weren’t any. Not when he felt that same sort of frustration at the knowledge that this was his fate. This was what the goddesses designated him to.

“You should sleep,” he told her instead, and perhaps to the surprise of both of them, she did not refuse.

He threaded his fingers through her hair, careful not to wake her once she’d dozed off in his lap. It was the only time he’d ever seen her look so peaceful, though the discoloration around her eyes stayed like a fresh bruise. Maybe it was a trick of the never changing, horrid warm lighting that flooded the sky over the castle, or maybe she hadn’t slept a single night since she’d released herself from her seal. Maybe it was just that easy to be exhausted these days. He could certainly feel it.

Even with the turmoil flowing through his veins, Link could not deny that Zelda was lovely. Beautiful and divine and cruel, but he supposed he should be, too. Was it he, as Link, who loved her? Or was it the product of a festering infatuation planted in the very original hero of Hylia? He supposed it didn’t really matter, nor did it matter whether it was Zelda loving him or Hylia. That was what drove him here, was it not? That was what made him stick around, and she’d known that. It was what she meant on that first day she was taunting him.

Maybe her desire for the destruction of a kingdom her wellbeing was tied to was… the right idea. The thought made him feel guilty. There were so many innocent people who would die if he let her go through with it, but how was he supposed to stop her? Talk her out of it? Convince her to just seal the Calamity until it rises again to begin the same cycle ten thousand years from now? Innocent people would die then, too–but he didn’t know those people like he knew his friends, the residents in all of the villages across Hyrule, the travellers he’d met and aided in passing.

What did the gods have against the other races? Maybe if there was a way to destroy Hyrule at its very core, but leave those along the edges of the world untouched, then he could think about it. He could agree.

When Zelda stirred, he brought it up to her. He asked her, a little hesitantly, if she thought it was possible. She frowned at him while considering it.

“I don’t know,” she told him at last, shaking her head. “There’s only one way to know the answer to that, and by then, it would be too late. But I’m sorry, Link, you won’t change my mind about this.”

“I don’t want to,” he told her.

“You asked me if I still love you.”

Link looked at her, the slightest bit of hope rising in his chest. He’d come to accept he would never get that answer from her. Part of him thought he already knew what it would be, though.

“Do you?” he asked anyway.

“Yes,” she said sadly, “and I’m sorry. Perhaps we wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

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masterlist | whumptober by day | whumptober by collection | original post

#whumptober2021 #alt.no8 #comfort #legend of zelda #fic #zelink #corrupt!zelda #some fluff for the soul #did you catch it #how she's soft on him and he's soft to her #yes #character development

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anna-pixie · 3 years

Text

padawan -> obi-wan kenobi {part one}

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

me: has a witcher series to finish which is taking a lot of time

also me: starts a new series about a character i’ve never written for before!

{also trying out a new layout? unsure of what i think of it}

summary: you’re hopelessly in love with anakin skywalker, but he only has eyes for padmé amidala. your heartbreak is starting to effect your performance in the jedi temple, and your position as padawan to obi-wan kenobi is in jeopardy.

pairings: obi-wan kenobi x reader {eventually}

warnings: none

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Your face is blank as you watch Anakin from across the room, something you’ve learnt to do from many, many months of suppressing your emotions. Though your face no longer betrays you, the way your heart swells at the sight of his smiling face reminds you of your ever present love for the fiery Jedi.

Your warmth stutters, however, when a hand is placed on his shoulder, and Senator Amidala appears from behind him with a smile full of sunshine and grace. You can’t help but slightly purse your lips as Anakin’s whole body reacts to her touch, as though she is a magnet and he is made out of pure iron.

Anakin, whilst being a great Jedi and an exceptional pilot, is not as skilled at masking his emotions. Despite it technically still being a secret, you’re sure that everyone knows of his love for and marriage to the gleeful senator. It was like a punch in the gut when you had found out about their nuptials. You and Anakin had been close friends for years, your friendship was one of those will-they, won’t-they friendships, full of flirty banter and sexual tension. You had liked it that way, you were content that way. Until the day he arrived with the joyful news that he had settled down with Padmé. That was the day that your friendship changed forever, he withdrew from you, became more distant and treated you the way a Master would treat a Padawan - holding you at arms length as though you had never been close in the first place.

It suffices to say that you’re heartbroken, and you wake up every day just as heartbroken as the last. It’s a horrible cycle that has had devastating effects on your training. You’re unfocused, unwilling to put in any extra effort, unwilling to socialise the way you used to because everywhere you go, the two of them are there, as in love as the day they wed.

“Credit for your thoughts?” The melodious voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi floods your ears as he settles himself beside you on the black lounger.

“I’d like to think my thoughts are worth more than a singular credit, Master.” You joke, leaping to your usual defence mechanism of humor to deflect from the obvious sadness radiating from you. You’ve never met anyone as perceptive to the force as Obi-Wan, both a blessing due to his vast knowledge, but also a curse, due to the fact you can never quite hide your emotions from the Jedi Master.

You had trained under Obi-Wan at the same time as Anakin, however your recent slip ups had meant that while Anakin was promoted to the rank of Jedi Knight, you still remained a Padawan under the guidance of Obi-Wan.

“Of course, my Padawan, I apologize,” Humor laces his tone, before he turns to face you completely, his expression more serious as he holds eye contact with you, “I do require a serious conversation with you, Y/N, about your recent performance as my Padawan. Please join me in my quarters for a drink of tea. Be there around 7. Enjoy the rest of your day, young one.”

You watch with a fond smile as the older Jedi makes his leave from the bustling room, his robes swishing behind him as he goes. Truth be told, you had harboured a crush on your Master when you first began to train under him. The first few times you met him were spent with longing gazes and a lot of lip biting on your end, but eventually your attention was captured by the flirty, playful nature of Anakin. You wonder how things would’ve turned out if your focus had stayed on the older Jedi master, you know he is very set in his ways, but you wonder if maybe something would have bloomed between the two of you. You can imagine Obi-Wan to be a very gentle lover, in all aspects, the complete antithesis to the damned Skywalker boy you had fallen for.

With a shake of your head, you banish all thoughts of romance from your mind. You’re training to become a full fledged Jedi, attachments are not allowed. That doesn’t mean other things aren’t allowed, that stupid voice in your head reminds you. No, you won’t let yourself think about such things.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your head is hanging low as you stroll slowly through the hallway of the Jedi temple, on your way back to your residence after a long day of not really listening to the things the council had been droning on about. You can tell that people are starting to notice your wavering commitment to the cause, however you honestly cannot bring yourself to care.

A shriek escapes your mouth as a hard body barrels into your own, almost sending you to the ground had it not been for your quick reflexes summoning the force to keep your body upright. A smile forms on your lips as you hear the tell tale chuckles of Anakin, who seems to have quickly ran out from behind one of the pillars without first checking for passers-by.

“Y/N.” He breaths, an apologetic smile on his face as he gathers himself, brushing his chin length hair back into place, “Sorry about that.” His voice is sheepish and he scratches the back of his head.

“Don’t worry about it, Ani, walk with me?” You throw out, averting your eyes as you nervously await his response. You don’t know why you even asked, you haven’t been alone with him for a while, he’ll definitely say n-

“Sure. You going back to the residences?” You nod at his question, too shocked by his agreement to form words at the moment. He sends you another smile as you start your trek back to your quarters, your legs moving of their own accord whilst your mind takes a moment to catch up with the current situation. You curse your heart for the way it swells instantly with happiness at the presence of Anakin, simply walking beside him, barely feeling the warmth of him under his robes, makes all the feelings you try so hard to suppress return to the surface.

A noise from behind grabs your attention, and the two of you turn your heads, only to be met with the sight of a giggling Padmé trying to sneak out from behind the same pillar Anakin came from. The familiar sadness hits you like a tidal wave as you face forwards once more, just catching the fond smile on Anakin’s face as he looks back at his wife. The fleeting happiness you get when you’re around him is not worth the floods of sadness that always follow, you think, as the two of you walk silently towards your residences.

“I haven’t seen much of you lately, Y/N. No one has, actually. I know Obi-Wan has been worried about you.” He speaks casually, his tone so breezy that it sounds as if your welfare never even crossed his mind. Obi-Wan is worried about you, fine. But is Anakin? He’s the source of all your pain to begin with.

“That’s nice of him.” You muse, not even glancing in his direction as you continue walking, hoping that your upbeat tone is enough to quell any curiosity he may have. However, it is not, and you’re stopped when he tugs at your elbow, gripping onto it with a slightly lax grip as he narrows his eyes at you.

“Seriously, Y/N, what on Tatooine is going on with you?.” His tone is firmer now, and your skin is heating at the feeling of his hand on the bare skin of your arm. You try to find your words as you gaze into his eyes and you quickly realise that you need to get yourself together, lest you want him to feel your true emotions through the force.

“Absolutely nothing.” A tight smile pulls across your lips and you wrench your elbow out of his grip, leaving him standing outside the temple with his suspicious gaze trained on your retreating figure.

By the time you return to your room, you only have an hour or so before you’re due to meet Obi-Wan for tea. You decide that you must do some meditation before you face your Master, knowing that his concern for your wellbeing will make him more perceptive when he analyses you.

You find brief tranquility, thinking of the lush skies and soft greenery of your home planet Alderaan. It’s not long before your mind is bombarded with the images of what Anakin and Padmé must’ve been getting upto behind the pillar of the temple, stealing secret kisses and laughs because they love each other so much that they can’t possibly wait until they are in private to be together.

Jealousy rolls off you in waves, thinking about how you wish it was you that he was so desperate to kiss, so desperate to hold and be in your presence even though it is forbidden. Accepting the fact that Obi-Wan will be able to sense your negative emotions from a mile away, you begin to get ready to join him.

You’ve never been in a Master’s quarters before, so you’re unsure of whether your usual outfit is appropriate attire for the occasion. A simple tank top, usually a light colour, and matching tight pants, with a sheer sarong wrapped around your waist. Deciding that you doubt Obi-Wan will care what you’re wearing, you decide to forgo any changes. You fix your hair and look in the mirror with a frown as your thoughts take over once more.

What does Padmé have that you don’t? Is it her position in the senate? Her maturity? Her outgoing personality? You had tried to be more like her, more vocal and social in your day to day life, but by nature you are cripplingly shy, so that failed miserably.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Come in, Padawan.” Your Master’s voice sounds from behind the large white door, and you wait patiently as it slides open for you at his command. He is still wearing his robes from the day, you note, as he pours two small cups of herbal tea at the small table next to his kitchenette.

All the Jedi Masters have larger, more equipped residences than the Padawans, and usually make food and eat in their own quarters rather than in the mess hall like the rest of you.

You take a moment to look around Obi-Wan’s room whilst he is momentarily distracted making your drinks. It’s very...him. He seems to have chosen to forgo the harsh, overhead lighting that adorns the rest of the residences, instead having a few dim lamps dotted around that spread a low, moody hue around the room. It is relatively clean, his bed is made, scattered with many comfy looking blankets, yet every free surface seems to be covered by piles and piles of books. You can tell that most of them are old Jedi texts, and a smile tugs at your lips at the dedication of your Master.

It’s strange to be in here, you feel like you’re completely surrounded by every aspect of him. You can see a spare change of robes hanging on the doors of his closet, probably ready to be worn tomorrow, and the door of his fresher is slightly ajar, allowing you to peek inside if you wish to. There is a dirty plate next to his sink, he must have just finished eating before you arrived, not having time to clean the dish properly. Seeing his room like this, he seems so human to you all of a sudden. He seems so… familiar to you.

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” His voice is amused, and you turn to face him with a blush. He is sitting down now, in one of the chairs that surrounds the tiny table, opposite another one for you to sit on. You mumble an apology and make your way to the seat, awkwardly perching yourself on the edge of it.

“I like your room, Master Kenobi, it’s very… homely.” He smiles at your admission and gestures to your tea before taking a sip of his own.

“Thank you, Y/N. I like to have a place I enjoy spending time, I appreciate it when I return from long missions.” You hum at his response, letting out a pleased noise as you taste the tea he prepared. It is some sort of woodsy concoction, not what you’d usually go for, but it tastes like heaven on your tongue.

“So…” You clear your throat, the anticipation of this impending conversation almost killing you, “You wanted to talk to me, Master?”

“Ah yes, straight to it then?” He looks puzzled at first, as though he is unsure of how to approach the topic, before heaving a resigned sigh and placing his tea back onto the table with nary a drop spilt, “Y/N, you had so much potential. I chose you and Anakin to train under me because I saw something in the both of you. Anakin? He was hot headed, fueled by passion and rage and I thought it a good challenge to help him control it. You, on the other hand? You were quiet, reserved, overwhelmed by your shyness but absolutely simmering with potential. And we unlocked so much of it, did we not? You were excelling, even more so than Anakin. What happened, Y/N? You can’t expect me to believe that my best Padawan forgot everything she’d learnt overnight. No…” He leans forward now, not allowing your wide-eyed gaze to waver from his as he continues with his serious spiel, “You stopped trying, you gave up. I would like to know why, and you’re not leaving my quarters until you tell me. I’ve tried to be gentle with you, kind, but the council are threatening termination of your place in the Jedi temple.”

Silence descends on the tense room as your brain struggles to comprehend everything Obi-Wan just threw your way. Of course you knew the council weren’t happy with you, you’d seen the disapproving gazes from Mace Windu and Ki Adi-Mundi, but you never even considered it had reached the point that they were considering ending your training as a Jedi, and relieving you of your place in the temple.

The only sound that breaks the silence is your breathing getting quicker and quicker, until Obi-Wan realises he needs to try and calm you down. Your anxiety is so strong he feels as though it is hitting him, and he notices the way your eyes begin to well up, and you realise with a start that months and months of pent up emotions are making themselves known right now. Right here, in your Master’s quarters.

Luckily, General Kenobi is a master at diffusing situations, and is quick to kneel in front of you, taking both of your hands in his and gazing up at you with those kind eyes of his.

“If nothing else, Y/N, a Padawan should be able to trust their Master. Can you trust me? Whatever the problem is, it will not leave this room. I give you my word.”

You know you shouldn’t tell him, for Jedi’s should not love, but you crumble the second his thumb brushes over the skin of your hand. At this moment, you want to be comforted, and not just by anyone, by Obi-Wan specifically.

“I love him, Obi-Wan. I love Anakin so much it hurts, but he doesn’t love me, he loves her.” You sob, tears spilling freely from your eyes as you avert them from his own. When you hesitantly look back towards him, you expect him to look shocked, angry, in disbelief. Rather, he just gives you a sad smile that conveys the fact that your admission was exactly what he had expected you to say to him.

Has Obi-Wan known about your feelings for Anakin this whole time?

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

#obi wan x you #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x reader #obi wan fluff #obi wan x oc #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x ofc #obi wan kenobi x reader #star wars imagine #obi wan x y/n #obi wan kenobi x y/n

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

All the Write Places

Pairing: Javier Peña/Reader

Word Count: 3,041

Warnings: Mentions of canon typical violence, some use of (Y/N)

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

A collection of letters between the Reader, who is still in Texas with Javier’s family, and Javier while he’s hunting Escobar in Columbia.

Mi Amor,

It’s Javier again. I know it’s been too long since my last letter, but the DEA doesn’t want any of my personal information to be intercepted. Steve is doing well. He and Connie just adopted a baby. I think her name is Olivia.

I’m sorry I haven’t called in a while. It’s for the same reason I don’t write all too often. I can’t wait to see you again, I promise it will be soon.

Yours forever, Javier.

P.S. keep an eye out for a package.

———

My Javi,

I miss you so much my dear. Your last letter brought me to tears, and I’m over the moon about the package. The jacket is huge on me, but it smells just like you. You be sure to give the Murphys my love, and kiss their little girl for me.

Things are alright here at home. Your mother treats me like one of her own kids, and it’s very sweet. Your father has begun to teach me Spanish, and your cousins constantly ask about when their Uncle Javi is coming home.

We all miss you, but I miss you most my dear. I can’t wait to see you again.

Yours truly, (Y/N).

———

Mi Amor,

The Murphys insist I tell you Olivia is doing well and has received your love. The hunt is long, but the promise of you waiting for me at home is a sure comfort.

I apologize, but I must keep my letters short. Just know that I love you and I will be coming home. I promise.

Yours forever, Javier.

———

Mi Corazón,

I know you must keep your letters short, but your mother insists you write more. She misses you dearly. I don’t think she understands the gravity of your job. Your father understands. He is worried for you, and his brother helped him rig his radio to listen to the Colombian news. Every time I hear that name, I shiver. He’s a horrible horrible man, and I cannot wait to see him rot in prison.

To keep this letter happy, I want to tell you your sister is pregnant! She’s overjoyed, and so am I. I know you won’t be home to meet the baby, but I’ll send photos, just as I always do.

I love you my dear. I’ll wait for you to return to me, no matter how long that is.

Yours truly, (Y/N).

———

Mi Amor,

The pictures were just what I needed. They are in my apartment, and I put the one of you and my parents on my desk so you’re always with me.

Tell my sister I’m proud of her and cannot wait to meet my niece or nephew. With luck, we’ll be home soon.

I’m sending another package for you and the family. I love you.

Yours forever, Javier.

———

Mi Corazón,

The pregnancy continues to go well, and the kids loved your package. I’m glad you enjoyed the photos.

Unfortunately, I don’t know when I’ll be able to write again. I know it’s hard for you, but my mother just passed, and I’m headed back north for the funeral and to spend some time with my dad. I’ll give them your love, as always.

I wish you were by my side, Javier. The days seem so long without you.

Yours truly, (Y/N).

———

Mi Corazón

You shouldn’t have called me Javier. It was risky, for the both of us. However, I do so desperately miss your voice. I’m glad I got to speak with you.

I promised I’d write when I returned to Texas, and I am home beside your family once more. They’re all jealous I got to speak with you, but the adults understand. Your mother especially understood, and made me swear to tell you she wants you to call for Christmas.

Javier, if at all possible, please listen to that annoying American station on the radio, you know the one that’s obsessed with 50’s music? We listen every night during dinner, and it would warm my heart if I knew you were listening too.

Give Murphy my love. Tell him I can’t wait to meet him one day.

Yours truly, (Y/N).

———

Mi Amor,

I apologize for the call, but you must understand why I risked it. I couldn’t have you grieve alone, not without me to help you through that pain.

I do know the station you wrote about, and I agree it’s annoying. The boys at the office like it, and it’s on while we work. Knowing you listen to it too, it makes my heart swell. One day, we’ll listen to those old songs together, I promise.

My letters will be few and far between, and I apologize. Things are getting worse here, but I vow to return to you alive and whole.

Yours forever, Javier.

———

Mi Corazón,

You mother has decided our song is that Bobby Darrin song that plays every day. The one about the man who’s away from his woman and wishes he could grow wings and fly to her side? Beyond the Sea, she says it’s called.

Your father always changes the station when he thinks we’re all asleep. He listens to the Colombian news, and I think he prays. You said he doesn’t miss you, but he does. He absolutely does.

In other news, your sister is about ready to pop. She’s always complaining about how much her back hurts, and she’s adamant that the baby is staying in all nine months only to make her suffer. I’ve enclosed pictures, because we all painted her stomach and it was hilarious.

I hope to hear from you again before Christmas. The holidays haven’t been the same without you.

Yours truly, (Y/N).

———

Mi Amor,

And I thought my family decorated for Christmas. Columbia has some of the nicest holiday decorations I’ve ever seen. I tried to get Murphy to photograph them, but they didn’t turn out quite right. I’ve sent them anyway.

Tell my sister I cannot wait to meet my niece or nephew. I’m sure that tiny bundle of joy will be just what you need over the holidays.

The Embassy is allowing me to call on Christmas, and I’m allowed to stay on the line for as long as it’s safe. With the precautions they’ve taken, I might even be able to talk with you for hours, my love. I cannot wait. It will be the best Christmas present, being able to hear your voice.

Yours forever, Javier.

———

Mi Corazón,

I don’t know when this letter will reach you, but the baby came today! Only a day before Christmas. Your sister is pissed that she’ll be spending Christmas in the hospital, but the baby, a beautiful little girl, is so cute. She’s lifted everyone’s spirits, and the promise of your call tomorrow is only making them happier.

I know this will be our reality for as long as it just be, but I want you home Javier. It sounds selfish, I know, but I want you beside me, no matter the price. Please come home soon, my love, or I fear I may forget you.

I’m eagerly awaiting your call. I’ll talk to you soon.

Yours truly, (Y/N).

———

Mi Amor,

Hearing your voice was just what I needed today. I assume I’ll be receiving a letter soon that tells me my sister had her baby, but I couldn’t wait to write.

My love, I have a surprise for you. Before you get excited, I’m not coming home soon. The fight only grows harder, and I don’t know if I’ll be home for years. But I found you a gift, one I know you’ll adore. I must be there to give it to you, in person. I know, how cruel of me to deny you your gift for what may be years. Just know, I will never forget it. It sits on my desk and Murphy teases me about it relentlessly. One day, I’ll give it to you. One day.

I’ll see you again, my love. I swear it.

Yours forever, Javier.

———

Mi Corazón,

Your last letter stunned me Javi! You must’ve written that as soon as we hung up. As for the gift, it will be aging waiting for it. Am I allowed to guess? Will you tell me when I get it right?

Your mother was a bit disappointed you couldn’t be with us for Christmas. She made an absolutely heavenly apple pie that she said is your favorite.

The baby grows stronger with every passing day. Maybe one day, she and the Murphy’s little girl can be friends. I think they’d like that.

I’ll see you soon Javier.

Yours truly, (F/N).

———

Mi Amor,

This will be hard to hear. I’ve had trouble simply writing it, and I know it will be hell to read. I have to stop sending letters. One of the DEA’s men wrote a letter to his wife, and two days later he was found dead in a river. It won’t be forever, and I will still receive every letter you send me as long as you keep mailing them they way you are, but we cannot risk anyone finding me right now.

To answer your previous question, yes. Please guess what the gift is. I bet you’ll never be able to guess.

I’ll write as soon as I can.

Yours forever, Javier.

———

Mi Corazón,

Not knowing whether you’ve received my letters will be torture Javi. But, as you’ve told me many times, I must remain strong. I will admit I cried when your last letter arrived, but then I imagined you sitting next to a radio, listening to our song at the same time I did, and it was like you were beside me. I miss you dearly Javier, but I will remain brave until your next letter arrives.

Until then, I will simply have to keep you updated. The baby is almost three months now and starting to be a troublemaker, just like her uncle. Your sister jokes her first word will be ‘Javi’ with how much we speak of you around the house.

I also heard, via phone, that Connie is back in the states with Olivia. She says Columbia was just too much, but promised to come and visit me. Give Steve my condolences, I know it must be hard.

Until my next letter, I love you dear.

Yours truly, (F/N).

P.S. Is the gift that book I spoke of over Christmas?

———

Mi Corazón,

Another month, another letter. Now, I make no effort to conceal myself when I listen to the Columbian news with your father and mother. Your mother cries, and your father prays. Sometimes I cry with her, and sometimes I pray with him. It’s hard, not knowing who’s reading this letter first.

Connie came to visit, and she brought Olivia. She’s such a sweet thing, and she adores your cousins. She told me about what she’s seen, what’s happened to her, and I wish for you home more than ever. It sounds horrible, her retellings coupled with the news I barely understand, it sounds awful. The price on your head, and yet you walk around anyway. Please, my heart, be careful. I cannot lose you.

Yours truly, (Y/N).

P.S. This guessing game is such fun. Your sister gave me an idea. Is your gift a camera? I doubt it is, but she wanted me to ask.

———

Mi Corazón,

I apologize for not writing for months. I was traveling to visit my father. He had a health scare and wanted me by his side.

The baby is almost eight months now! Her first word was ‘Javi,’ and we all had a big laugh about it. It’s painful not having you here, or at least having letters.

I listen to our song every night, whenever it’s on the radio. Your sister teases me for it, but I don’t care. It connects me to you. To makes me wonder if some day, we could have a future where there’s no threat, where we could be together.

Please promise me Javier, you won’t get involved with any of this dangerous shit happening in Columbia if you can help it.

Yours truly, (Y/N).

P.S. is the gift jewelry? Your mother thinks it’s a ring.

———

Mi Amor,

I have another torturous request. Please stop writing. Your last letter was intercepted by his men and it was almost very bad. Before I go, please know I listen to our song every night. Tell my sister I love her and her tiny troublemaker, my mother I wish I were home, and my father I’m grateful for the prayers. As for you, I miss you so much my love. I tried to delay the inevitable, but we must stop communicating. I love you, no matter how far apart we are. I’ll write as soon as it’s safe.

Yours forever, Javier.

P.S. No it isn’t the book, no it isn’t a camera, and yes it is jewelry.

———

Mi Amor,

Are you still the same person I wrote to years ago? How’s my sister and my niece, and my parents? How are you? And your father? Murphy and I are good, if a little stressed, because I know you’ll ask.

Things have gone maddeningly quiet. He’s gone, it seems. Disappeared, but I’m sure the radio told you. I know you asked me not to get involved, but I did, and I think I’m in trouble for it. Big trouble.

Anyway, I may be home soon, depending on how it all goes. I cannot wait to kiss you again.

Apologies for such a short message after years of nothing. I missed so much, you’ll have to tell me all about it.

Yours forever, Javier.

———

Mi Amor,

Please tell me these letters are reaching you. Are you still with my parents? Should I call? I think I will, at the end of the week. It’s Monday now. I guess I should tell you, right?

I received good news for you today. They’re sending me home. I know, he isn’t dead yet. But every action has a consequence and unfortunately mine are sending me home before my job is done. Murphy is understandably upset. Yelled for almost twenty minutes about how it wasn’t fair. I’d put my life on hold for almost a decade to catch Escobar, it was only right I was there when he was brought down.

But life isn’t like that, and I’ll be on a plane home in a week or two. I can’t wait to see you. I hope you’re still waiting for me.

Yours forever, Javier.

———

“Mi hija?”

You looked around, seeing Javier’s mother come out for you. The tinny radio playing your song flickered next to your leg. It was on repeat, on a CD Javier’s cousin had burned for you. You’d taken to sitting on the porch swing after dinner was over, simply to take your mind off things. The letters were stacked beside you, the newest one on top. You hadn’t had the energy to even open the new ones. What could you possibly say after years apart? Who would he be? Was he still your Javier?

“Mi hija?”

“Yes mamá?”

Javier’s mother sat beside you. “There’s a new letter in the kitchen for you.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

Standing and gathering your letters and the radio, you followed Javier’s mother into the kitchen. It was warm, and there was an envelope with your name on it resting on the counter.

Picking it up, you turned it over to see two tiny words scrawled across the back.

Open me

You popped the letter open, seeing a small card inside.

The porch. Hurry, before the sun goes down.

Confused, you headed back outside, where the sun had just begun to paint the sky. There was someone on the porch swing, rocking back and forth and humming your song, the same song that was playing from the radio by his side.

The creak of the porch door brought his attention to you, and you immediately put your hands over your mouth and sobbed. “Javi.”

“Mi amor,” he said, standing and wrapping you in a hug. “Oh how I’ve missed you. I promised I’d come home.”

“You did,” you said weakly, collapsing into the hug. “Oh Javier, my heart I’ve missed you.”

Javier kissed the top of your head, smiling as you pulled away a bit. “May I have this dance?”

You laughed, beginning to sway as Javier swayed, both humming your song.

Eventually, once the sun had set completely and the Texas stars were out, you and Javier separated, sitting together on the porch swing.

“Oh,” Javier said, standing suddenly. “Your gift!”

You smiled. “You forgot?”

“I was too busy with something else,” Javier said. “But I think I’ve made you wait long enough, mi amor. Close your eyes.”

You did, closing your eyes and hearing him shuffle in front of you. After a minute of silence, Javier spoke. “Open your eyes.”

Opening your eyes, you gasped. Javier was on one knee before you, holding out a gorgeous ring. “I knew,” he whispered softly. “I knew the minute I received your first letter that I wanted to marry you. If we had been married all those years ago, you would’ve been able to come with me, to have me by your side. And now, if you’ll have me, I want to remain here, with you at my side and with me at yours, for the rest of my life. No more letters, my love.”

You nodded, crying as you practically threw yourself into Javier’s arms. “Yes!” You said happily. “Yes!”

Javier smiled, sliding the ring onto your finger. A perfect fit. “Now we’ll always be together,” he said, kissing your knuckles. “Always.”

Kissing Javier firmly, you nodded. “Always. No matter what.”

And you did stick together. The day he got sent back, you packed a bag and boarded the plane right beside him, ready for whatever horrors would await you. He didn’t want you going, but you insisted. Together always, no matter what.

#narcos #Javier Pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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anistarrose · 3 years

Text

hello, my love (ao3)

a slightly late @taznovembercelebration fic for the day 19 prompt “established relationship,” albeit in possibly the least conventional sense of the phrase. in other words, this is the culmination of a lot of Blupjeans feelings I couldn’t not write about any longer

It — it feels wrong to say I’ll miss you, but —

No, I get it. It’s gonna be so fucking weird, and I — I know it won’t last forever —

Okay, I — I can’t do it like this. Not if we make it sad. Lup, I love you so much, you know you’re the light of my life and undeath…

Of course, babe.

…and I’ll see you soon.

The world Barry wakes up in is tinted green, obscuring everything besides a few ill-defined silhouettes. His limbs are numb at first, but as… red sparks? run down his arms, the feeling returns as a strange sort of weightless sensation, like he’s floating beneath the surface of a lake.

A few bubbles escape from his nose, and oh shit, he really is submerged in something. Before he can even wonder which way is up, his hand grazes something that immediately tears away — and with it drains out the mystery green liquid, which he’s just going to pretend is water. He staggers onto the floor of a cave, blinking rapidly as he adjusts to the light. It’s definitely a cave; he can feel the cool air on his skin and the bare rock beneath his feet — so why is it so bright?

The answer arrives in the form of a voice, whose owner becomes a little more visible to him with each blink of his eyes.

“Care for a towel? Actually, I’m giving you one whether you want it or not, ‘cause if you die of hypothermic shock after everything we’ve gone through to get here, that’s just gonna be awkward.”

She’s beautiful, he knows before he can truly see evidence of the fact. There’s so much care in her voice that her joke can’t disguise, and the towel she slings over Barry’s shoulders is warm, but not as warm as her hands. This feels like the correct moment to freak out over being, as far as Barry can tell, completely buck naked aside from the generous towel gift — but instead, his attention is captivated by his companion, who in complete contrast to himself, seems to be more clothes than body as she comes into focus.

It doesn’t feel right to say she’s wearing her red robe — it’s more like she embodies it, as it moves subtly to indicate her posture, her emotions, rather than to conceal them. What little of her that isn’t a robe is ablaze, but not violently — if Barry only had one word to describe her, he would simply say warm.

Her eyes are negative space amidst the flames, darkness where one would expect unbridled light, but there’s nothing sinister about them — more of a fascination, if anything, evident as she locks her gaze with Barry’s.

He’s been staring, hasn’t he? And she’s been staring at him.

He expects the sheer embarrassment of this whole situation to catch up to him any second, but it just doesn’t hit him. There’s nothing uncomfortable about sharing the room with her.

“Hi,” he says, giving a little wave. “I don’t know how I got here, but… I like your robe.”

She bursts into laughter, illuminating the cave in an ever-changing pattern of red, orange, and pink — and Barry can’t help but wonder if there are a few tears in the mix too, given how hard it is to tell on a face made out of fire.

“Oh, babe. Oh, Barry. Of course you would.” She brings a spectral finger to Barry’s face, evaporating a droplet of water with a single touch, but the warmth that rushes to Barry’s cheeks has nothing to do with the temperature of her hands, only her touch itself. “Sit tight for a second, babe. I’m gonna grab something you’ll like.”

Babe? He’s paralyzed for a few seconds, the word echoing in his head as she floats across the room, sifting through piles of scrolls, jeans, and miscellaneous other items that couldn’t be further from naturally occurring in caves. Does she know me? Does she like me?

He’s finished drying himself off by the time she returns, holding a second red robe — and a corporeal one, no less. She drapes it over Barry’s shoulders, and he slips his arms into the sleeves without thinking twice.

It’s cozy, but something about looking down at himself wearing it brings a fuzziness to his mind that’s not nearly as comfortable as the fuzziness of the fabric. He focuses his gaze on the ghostly woman instead — who makes his mind turn to static in her own right, but in a way that’s more than balanced out by the joy of just looking at her.

“See, we both look good in red,” she says with a wink, and Barry feels the temperature of his face rise another degree or two. He’ll wind up on fire like she is, at this rate. “You’ll want to sit down. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. Um, I think… I might be just a tiny bit amnesiac? Like, just a little. ‘Cause I know who I am, but you sound like you know me, and I don’t know you.”

He takes a deep breath, and decides there’s no harm in admitting what she’s surely already noticed. He’s been too confused to try and be subtle. “Also, I definitely just fell in love with you a couple orders of magnitude faster than I thought I’d ever fall in love with anyone, so that’s, uh… cool, but weird?”

The lower half of her face brushes his forehead — not quite solid, but not unpleasant — and he realizes just as soon as it’s over that it must’ve been a ghostly kiss.

“We were gonna ease you into the ‘us being in love and you losing your memories’ thing,” she tells him with a chuckle, and Barry’s too giddy to even wonder what she means by we. “Lay out the groundwork first. We should’ve known better.”

“My bad?” Barry blurts out, and that makes her laugh even harder, until embers are dripping from her eyes like glistening teardrops.

“Oh my god. This must — this must be so much for you, babe, so much to take in. How are you doing it? How are you — taking this so in-stride, and still sounding so much like you, I mean?”

“I mean… I wouldn’t know,” Barry admits. It is so much to take in, and he knows that if he’d woken up here all alone, with no idea how he’d arrived, then he’d be a mess by now — and not the hopeless romantic kind. As it is, he’s holding it together, trying not to think about his headache and taking comfort in the more pleasant of realizations — but he’s still adrift and disoriented, clinging to a figure he can’t remember his reason for trusting. “It — it doesn’t quite feel real, to be honest? Like, I — I believe you, I believe that I loved you — but it’s the forgetting that gets me…”

He can see himself falling in love, but he can’t see himself falling in this kind of love quickly. This soaring feeling in his heart could only be propelled by years of incremental intimacy, years that he can remember none of, years that don’t exist according to the static roaring inside his head. “How could I forget all this?”

She hugs him in a way unlike any hug he can remember, overlapping with the space he occupies until he’s engulfed in gentle flames, and the threads of her robe feel like they’re what’s doing the hugging, having reformed and rewoven themselves around his arms. Not knowing how else to embrace her back, Barry wraps his arms around his own chest, and feels her presence grow warmer still.

He can just barely wrap his mind around the thought that the warmth coming from his own chest might be borne of subconscious familiarity.

“You still have a big obvious head-over-heels crush on me, don’tcha?” she teases, her laughter surrounding him. “Nothing can make you forget that.”

“Yeah, every version of me’s a hopeless romantic. We’ve got that,” Barry admits. “But I — I don’t even remember your name —”

He would know it if he heard it, he’s sure; it’s so close to the tip of his tongue that he’d probably blurt it out instinctively, if only he didn’t always think so hard about his words before saying them. It’s so tantalizingly close, and he wants to know it again, to say it again, more than any other favor the universe could grant him, and doesn’t the universe owe him at least this much —

“Well, I know how to fix that.” She withdraws from the hug, remaining at his side. “And I think it’ll help if you hear it from yourself — if you hear all the truth we can give you, that is.”

She extends a hand, and a simple golden coin flies across the room to land in her palm. It’s embossed with a vaguely familiar rune that Barry can’t translate, but his mind really starts to reel when she places the coin in his hand, and he hears his own voice emanate from it:

Your name is Barry Bluejeans. You are afraid of the dark. Your very favorite thing in the world is swimming in very cold water on a very hot day, but you cannot remember who taught you to swim, or why you’re always so much more scared of the dark at the end of the year.

The beautiful undead woman next to you is named Lup, and as much as it pains you to realize, you have forgotten her, too. There are fundamental truths about the world, about your loved ones, and about yourself that you have been blocked from comprehending — you’ve had more stolen from you than you realize, and there are very few ways to undo it.

Barry, I’m you just moments ago, and I’m about to forget so much. But right now, I remember, and Lup can help you remember too.

Another voice joins the recording — Lup herself, who sounds just slightly different than she has today, just a little less burdened.

If you haven’t guessed from how this nerd talks about me — Her words are punctuated by an affectionate grumble from Barry — we’ve been dating longer than you can imagine. I wish we could just —

You also can’t remember that Lup’s as much of a nerd as you are, Barry, his past self interrupts. You met because you were both nerds.

Oh, come on, you’ll still be smart enough to figure that one out by yourself! But like I was saying, we had a hell of an epic love story I wish we could just tell you — but you wouldn’t be able to understand much of it, and you’d get a headache trying.

So, Barry adds, we thought about what would be the next best thing. And I think we got a pretty good idea.

A classical music piece fades in, beginning with a piano but quickly adding a violin. Barry can’t put a title or a context to the tune, but he recognizes it from the first note and starts tearing up by the third. His fingers tap out a pattern in sync with the piano part before he even realizes they’re doing it, and when he closes his eyes to let the music wash over him, he realizes that the Lup of the present, the Lup at his side, is almost imperceptibly humming along with the violin.

“You’ll remember this again,” she promises, choking up, when the tune eventually fades. “One day.”

Already, the music has stirred ghosts of memories, fleeting emotions, that Barry can almost imagine in context — quiet moments, private conversations that no one could rip away from him because no one else but Lup ever knew they’d happened — and that day feels close, reassuringly so.

Like him falling for Lup again, it feels like an inevitability.

#taz #taz balance #blupjeans #barry bluejeans #lup taaco #taz balance spoilers #taz november celebration #taznc #rosalia writes fic

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jae-daddy · 4 years

Text

Duff (3)

jaebum au series

one / two / three / four masterlist

gifsource: @magiccastles

pairing: im jaebum x reader genre: angst, smut, cheating, CEO! i guess too now plot: you are the duff, and guys use you to get close to your bestfriend, turns out jaebum was no exception. but as time goes on the tension between you and your bestfriend’s unoffical boyfriend grows a/n: this is as much as a ride for me as it is for you lol. i just start writing and let words take me somewhere and then i just say i guess that’s it in the end. hope y’all enjoy it <3 not edited.

“Did you hear,” Naina crept up behind you, making you jump slightly. She laughed before shooting you a cheeky grin and continuing, “the Chairman’s son is joining the office today?”

“Really?” You turned to her, as you waited for the papers to copy behind you.

You weren’t that interested, all you wanted to do was get out of here and rest for a bit before starting on your assignment due next week. This internship was really time-consuming, but you couldn’t really complain because so many other students would kill to work at this firm.

“A hundred per cent. I know he’s rich and all that,” she waved her hands around hastily to show how none of that mattered. “But that is not what makes him attractive. He actually looks good. Apparently, he was a delinquent, and is just returning home after starting up a new business.”

“He’s still the boss’ son,” you scrunched your face in distaste. While the old man was a dilf, you hated nepotism, and people only giving opportunities to those who had ample of it.

“He was scouted,” Naina pouted defensively.

“How do you know?” You shot her a pointed look, as the machine stopping whirring.

“The process was done by the shareholders and the Society, and you know how much they hate Chairman. Apparently, they didn’t know it was him when they scouted him,” Naina shrugged as she loaded her papers. “They had to chase him for almost five months before he agreed to a trial period.”

“A trial period?” Your eyebrows rose in surprise. You couldn’t deny that whoever the Chairman’s son was sounded pretty impressive, maybe you were being too prejudice.

You bit your lip as you watched Naina for a while, “Well, let’s hope he actually is a hottie. Who told you all this by the way?”

Naina turned to you with an apologetic look, “Pam.”

“Alright,” you rolled your eyes, walking away. Pam was notorious for her horrible taste in men.

“Hey y/n,” a head popped over your cubicle, making you look up tiredly. Your eyes wandered to the clock, one more hour left. “You’re needed in the conference room.”

“Note-taking?” You asked, getting up. The guy just shrugged before walking off.

You knocked on the door before entering the conference room, to find all the shareholders and the Chairman sitting around a table. You found Nina signalling you to come over.

“I bought my note-taking things,” you told Nina as you sat down beside her. You scanned the room to find impatient old men mumbling quietly to each other. “What’s going on?”

“They’re waiting for the new Director to show up,” Nina replied, her voice low as she leaned in. “He’s forty-five minutes late already.”

You shot her a surprised look before frowning, “It doesn’t look like anything much is happening here. Why was I called in?”

Nina just shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know, Connor called for you, but he looks preoccupied.”

You looked over to your supervisor who was on the phone, a pained expression on his face evident on his face. You watched as he shut his phone before walking in hurried and long strides.

“I have to apologise, gentlemen,” Connor stopped at the front of the table, his actions anxious, but his voice steady. “But looks like the new Director, unfortunately, cannot meet us today, an emergency has occurred. He does send his apologies.”

The men, who you would have expected to be fuming, just nodded with understanding.

You were confused.

Instead of the shareholders, it was the Chairman who seemed to be fuming.

Before anyone could say anything else, he got up and walked out of the room. The others didn’t say anything or object, they just broke into little groups conversing. The meeting was over without achieving the goal but without any conflict.

“I guess it’s over,” Nina got up, brushing her skirt straight. You followed her actions, your eyes catching the clock.

“There are only twenty minutes left,” you peered at her with a pleading look. “May I have an early leave?”

Her eyes darted to Connor who was engaged in a very serious conversation and then back at your pleading face. “Okay, but if anyone asks, you had an emergency.”

“Yeah, I guess emergencies are easily accepted in this company these days,” you joked, making Nina spank your arm playfully.

It didn’t take you long to gather your things and get out of the building. You had been working here for just over two months, but you could navigate the building with your eyes closed. Your gaze was on your phone, checking for any updates from your team members for the upcoming project. Disappointment filled you once again when you saw endless bubbles of excuses dotting the group chat.

You sighed, reaching for the button to call the elevator when your fingers touched another.

“Oh my gosh,” you pulled your hand back on reflex, as you looked up. “I’m sorry.”

But as soon as your eyes met those glowing brown ones, you wished you could reel back the apology that fell from your lips. Your face turned into a sneer as you glared at him, “What are you doing here?”

Jaebum smirked at you in his signature cocky way. You hated how it made your core tingle, but at the same time made your blood boil. But the anger didn’t always mean to come out in violence. It begged to out in some ways so deviant, that you’d rather punch his arrogant smirk off than do things that to him that your mind imagined.

“You're stalking me now?” You folded your arms as you snorted at him. “Or did you get in trouble and need help now?”

“This is a financial firm, love,” Jaebum smiled at you, his arrogance taking over his entire being.

“Committed fraud then.” You bit back, thanking the elevator doors as they opened. You quickly walked in and pressed the closed button as Jaebum’s eyes watched at you. “Catch the next one, love.”

The doors were almost shut when he jammed his arm in the way. You winced as the doors clamped against him before opening slowly. You quickly masked your concern with annoyance as he strutted in holding his forearm.

You wanted to say something but bit your tongue as you rolled your eyes. In the end, you couldn’t hold yourself back, “You could’ve just waited for the next one.”

Jaebum smiled at you, knowingly. You hated it when he did that. He smiled at you, his brown eyes sparkling with humour as if he could see through you, and knew exactly what was going on in your head.

“I guess I’m a fool then.”

Your sharp eyes met his soft ones. You held them for a moment, your eyes blazing as you tried to figure out what he was doing. You knew why he said that.

He wasn’t a complete idiot then if he actually realised what you meant. He was a fool. He still is a fool. But him admitting it doesn’t undo what he had done. That he had chosen Heather over you, that he had screwed Heather.

You didn’t know what he was doing, what his game was. Did he have a sick fetish of doing friends? And then try to convince them into a threesome?

Your face must’ve revealed the disgust you were feeling because Jaebum laughed after a moment.

“What?” He smiled carefree leaning against the wall. You hated how unbelievably attractive he looked, even under these hideous fluorescent lights, Im Jaebum managed to look like the sexiest guy to have ever walked on this Earth.

You realised his normal piercings were missing. You watched as his tongue darted out from his pink lips, going to the familiar place where the lip ring would normally rest. He touched the ghost of it, his lips quirked and he just licked his lips before lifting an eyebrow.

“Where are your accessories?” You asked, you hated how haughty you sounded, but you couldn’t help yourself. Jaebum somehow bought out the worst in you.

Jaebum grinned, biting his lips as if holding in a secretive laugh.

“I had to look professional, y/n.”

You groaned internally. You hated it more when he said your name so freaking sexily.

You wanted to hear him say it again and again. Say it with other dirty words that would leave his sinful lips as he thrust into you, as he pulled your hair. Say it as you took your time devouring his cock, whimper it as you made him beg for his release. You wanted to hear him moan it as he captured your lips in his, and pushed you against the wall.

Suddenly the elevator started to feel hot; the metal box becoming too small.

You quickly reached for the button, pressing it to open on the next floor.

You turned your back towards him, facing the doors.

You core tightened, as heat rose to your face.

You couldn’t stop imaging. You couldn’t stop thinking all the things that could happen in this stupid small little metal box. You couldn’t stop thinking about how the cool metal would feel against your back, against your bare breast as he pushed you against them while he pounded into you from behind.

Oh god. You needed to get out. Now. You furiously pressed the button a few more times, before standing right.

And then the lights flickered, the machines groaned. The lights blinked off, and the elevator stopped.

This was a literal nightmare. This wasn’t real.

You had to be dreaming for sure. This was all a dream, had to be one.

“Y/n!” You heard Jaebum’s panicked voice. You found feel him swimming through the darkness, his arms flailing around trying to find you.

“I’m here,” you called, walking next to him.

You were worried, but it was nothing compared to the shaking body you collided into.

“Jaebum?” You grabbed his cold hands in yours. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t say anything, but you could feel him move.

“Okay,” you softly told him. “It’s okay, let's move backwards, okay? Until we hit the wall?”

He didn’t answer, but a disturbed meek left him, and you took that as a yes. Once your backs hit the wall, you began sliding down, bringing him down next to you.

Jaebum sat so close, his entire side was pressed against yours. He didn’t move away, but neither did you. You didn’t take your hand away from Jaebum gripped it as if his life depended on it.

You reached into your pocket, pulling out your phone. You turned on the flashlight and turned it towards Jaebum. He grunted, bringing a hand up to shield himself from the harsh light.

“Sorry,” you murmured, turning it to face the front. The light bounced off the shiny walls bringing in some light. “Are you better now?”

Jaebum nodded, and this time you could see.

“I need to press the emergency button,” you told him looking over at him. He just nodded, his eyes focusing on something, but his hands still grasping yours.

You slowly got up, still not talking your hand from his as you pressed the button. You had the ring for a few seconds, and then someone picked up.

“Hello?” you called, “We’re stuck in elevator 3.”

“We’re working on it,” the gruff voice replayed. “It won’t take long. How many are in the elevatory?”

“Just two people.”

“A'ight, wait a minute.” And then the line went dead and remained that way for almost twenty minutes.

“What’s taking those shitheads so fucking long?” Jaebum finally spoke breaking the silence that fell between you two. His hand still clutching yours. “You would expect a place like this to at least have a backup or faster services. But I guess not. Just a shithole company in this stupid place.”

He was talking nonsense. His words losing meaning as more angry and panicked words left him.

You gave his hand a little squeeze, and he stopped.

Jaebum turned to look at you, and you gave him a small smile.

His eyes that normally glistened with playfulness were glazed with fear and anxiety as he peered at you. He tried to give your smile back, but it came out as a nervous tightlipped look of panic.

“So, Im Jaebum,” you snorted lightly. Jaebum watched at you, his nervous eyes on you as if you were the only thing keeping him calm. And you were ready to bet that you were. “What’s your favourite season?”

“Really?” He snorted, the tiniest hint of his normal arrogance returning to his voice. “That’s what you want to talk about before we die?”

You bit back your laugh and shot him a glare.

“Summer,” he answered gruffly.

You nodded, humming “Summer.”

“You are someone who enjoys being happy.” Jaebum rolled his eyes at that. “You seek happiness, you like thinking back to good memories instead of bad ones. You don’t have many regrets and the ones you have don’t last for long because you rectify them as soon as you realise. You like being shown love, affection; the more you receive it, the more you thrive. You cherish friendship and loyalty above all, but not really because of the person. The person can change, but the memories you share with them is what keeps your loyalty going.”

Jaebum just snorted as he ran his free hand through his hair. The soft strands falling in all directions as he snickered at you, “Where’d you steal that from? Buzzfeed quizzes?”

“Hey!” You hit his arm in spite, a pout on your lips with full offence. “I came up with that myself! I have one for all seasons.”

Jaebum just laughed, and you tried your best to suppress the smile on your lips.

“What about the rest,” Jaebum asked after a long moment, “How would you describe the rest?”

“What you like is what you get,” you shrugged smugly.

“So what are you?” He asked, his eyes watching you intently.

“I’m Autumn,” your cheeks heated under his gaze. You prayed your blush was covered in the darkness. You gulped nervously when you felt him not look away. “And Heather! She’s a summer too.”

Jaebum hummed in reply, finally looking away.

“Okay, what’s your favourite number?” Jaebum asked.

“Two.”

“No! Don’t tell me! Do it again,” he groaned, making you chuckle at his silliness. You nodded, thinking of a number. “Okay now add two to it.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from smiling like a complete idiot at how adorable he was being. You knew exactly what he was doing, but you didn’t have it in you to stop him when he sounded so eager.

“Okay, now minus it by the number you first thought of,” he told you watching you with a grin. You nodded, telling him you were done. “Add five, minus two.

“The number you are left with is,” he grinned at you, and this time you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling seeing his happiness. “Five!”

“Oh my god!” You faked, the smile not going anywhere. “How did you know?!”

“Magic,” he shrugged, smiling so proudly. But that smile didn’t last long as the elevator groaned and you felt it fall a bit. “Fuck.”

His hand was squeezing yours so tightly you were sure it will cut off your blood circulation, but you didn’t stop him. You held his hand back and watched him as he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the metal with a groan.

“Hey, Jaebum,” you called, making his shifty eyes look to you. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be fine-”

“My ass, fine,” he cut you off with panic. “We’re going to die here.”

“Come on,” you rolled your eyes, about to tell him he was overreacting when the elevator jerked down again. You yelped as you clung onto Jaebum, who wrapped his free arm around you tightly.

“I don’t want to die like this,” Jaebum moaned, his voice breaking. You closed your eyes as you gripped his jacket tighter. “There’s so much I want to do. I want to skydive.”

“You’ve already done that,” you told him, your eyes still shut tight.

“Oh right, I have,” he breathed. “Okay, then I guess I want to take you out on a date.”

“Jaebum,” you warned him, your voice low and tight. “We’re about to die, and you want to go down joking?”

“Well, you want to go down growling me,” he replied, his words hurried. “I’m not joking though, I want to. I really want to.”

“Why?” You almost yelled as the elevator dropped again.

“Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.” Jaebum chanted, his panic rising. You could feel his heat race underneath his jacket. You were sure yours was pounding just as hard and as fast as his. “I mean it. I really really want to. It’s all I’ve wanted to do since I saw you.”

“You are with Heather-AH!” The elevator dropped again, and tears filled your eyes.

“Okay. Okay. Okay,” you breathed, as you tried to calm yourself as tears burned your eyes. “If we’re being honest, I guess I do want to fuck you. But I wouldn’t want my last wish to be that-”

“Wait- what?” Jaebum broke you off, hope and surprise cutting through his nerves and panic. “You want to fuck me?”

You just nodded, about to tell him that it was just a last-minute shameful confession. It didn’t mean anything. You just wanted at least his last memories to be one that his arrogant self would enjoy, no matter how true they were.

The truth never hurt anyone anyways.

“I want to fuck you too.” Jaebum cried, holding you tighter, as the elevator went down again. “But I want to kiss you too, and take you out on a date.”

“What’s with you and dates?!” You cried back.

“I don’t know, but it’s just you,” Jaebum replied, his voice shaking. “You drive me crazy.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t want to admit that he drove you crazy too. Even though he was with your best friend, even when he chose Heather over you, you wanted him so much it physically hurt you.

“When I was little I told my dad to die,” you said softly, as tears fell from your eyes. “I didn’t mean it, dad. I’m sorry. I love you. Oh god, please keep my family safe and keep everyone happy.”

“You’re scaring me!” Jaebum cried.

“Don’t you want the last wish?”

“I already told you!”

“Are you for real?!”

“Yes! Deadly!” Jaebum answered, heated. “I want to take you out on a date! Is that so hard to believe?”

“Well we can’t go on a date now, can we?” You answered, your voice edged with anger.

“What about my other wish?”

“You want to fuck me?! Right now?!”

“No!” Jaebum cried as the elevator fell. “A kiss; a goodbye kiss I guess now.”

You stilled. You could do that. You could do as much.

The intervals between each fall lessening and you were sure soon you’d be plummeting down the levels to your death in a mere few seconds.

“Okay,” you breathed, and Jaebum stilled. “One kiss.”

Jaebum moved away from you and looked at your face.

“I-” he choked, his throat bobbing, as he nervously gulped. His eyes shaking from fear of the looming death, but also from fear of this moment. “I don’t want to pressure you or anything- I can change my last wish.”

“I want to.” You told him, your gazing dropping to his lips. You nodded, “I want to.”

Jaebum swallowed nervously as he brought his shaking hands to your face. Your hands held onto his wrist as his fingers gently brushed your skin. You gazed into his eyes, and even in the darkness, you could see them sparkle in golden wonder.

His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation as he slowly bought his lips down to yours. You closed your eyes, feeling his warm sweet breath fall onto your lips. You weren’t sure if it was the foreboding death or his sweet gentle touch and closeness that were reasons for the butterflies in your stomach, but you had a good suspicion it was the latter.

Jaebum’s soft lips lightly touched yours, so carefully, so softly as if you’d break away into a million whispers if he was too hard. Your fingers wrapped into his palms as you pressed your lips against his.

You felt his lips open, about to capture yours in a soft sweet gentle kiss when a loud crash followed by a loud voice interrupted your dizzying mind.

You jerked away from him as blinding light fell into the elevator, and a shadow appeared as the doors opened.

“You’re alive!” The gruff voice yelled. “Are you alright?”

You remained shocked for a moment, before blinking back to your senses, “Yes!” Yes!”

“Alright, hold on a minute.”

It took ten more minutes to get the door opened and a ladder down to help you out.

You didn’t look at Jaebum.

You ignored the cold burning on your hand that Jaebum had been holding. You ignored the tingling of your lips, and the butterflies in your tummy, every time you thought of that whisper of a kiss.

You didn’t look at him when he climbed out behind you.

You watched the others and saw their faces pale when they saw him brush his jacket straight.

“Sir!” The gruff voice cried, almost bowing. You looked around saw all of them shake with fear. “I-”

The man couldn’t complete his sentence, as he shook in fear, his eyes low.

You turned back to Jaebum confused, “What’s the fuss?”

“Y/n!” You heard Naina call, before grabbing your elbow and pulling you away. You shot her a confused look, making her give you a horrified one in return. She pointed to the screen on the wall, and there you saw him.

Im Jaebum flashing on the screen, Director of Mediana Firm.

You turned back to Jaebum who gave you a cheeky wink. Your mouth fell open as Naina dragged you away.

“No way.” You muttered.

“Exactly! No way you got trapped with the new hot Director!” Naina cheered, her cheeks blushing for you. She giggled as you blinked processing everything.

“God,” you finally spoke, “I guess Pam wasn’t wrong this time.”

264 notes · View notes

rosiehunterwolf · 3 years

Text

For the Romping and the Roaring- Part 3

My submission for Day 3 of @serpentfever's Inhuman Event!

Link to read on ffn.net (Recommended if you are on mobile or haven't read the previous parts yet)

Preview:

Dammit, this was all his fault! He was so pathetic, how had he let this happen?

The hairs on the back of his neck tingled, and he glanced up and caught sight of Borg standing outside his cell, staring at him.

“You almost messed up everything, you brat. I’m not going to forget that.”

The pain increased again, and Kai screamed, feeling his eyes roll back in his head as blackness swamped at the edges of his vision.

“Turn it down, I don’t want him passing out.”

The pain dropped suddenly, and Kai gasped in relief, tears streaming down his face. It wasn’t gone completely, though- there was still a faint buzzing emitting from the collar- not enough to be painful, but enough to put him on edge.

Enough to remind him that he wasn’t the one in control here.

(Full chapter under the cut)

Prompts Used: Chase, Dehumanized

Word Count: 9,206 (welp we're back to browser-crashing length again)

Rating: Definitely T, maybe like T+

Trigger Warnings: Dehumanization (obviously), Imprisonment, Torture, Attempted Murder, Drugs, Blood, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts (yeah… this one’s pretty heavy, guys. Probably the darkest thing i've ever written...)

Consciousness came slowly, as if the air around him was thick and sticky. A metallic tang filled his mouth, and his limbs felt weighted and heavy. Everything hurt, and Kai wanted nothing more than to just fall back into the comfort of sleep, but his head was throbbing too much to do so. Breathing slowly, he opened his eyes.

At first, he just saw more darkness, and he wondered if he had even opened his eyes at all. After a few minutes of just staring at the ceiling, though, enough light made its way to his eyes that he could make out the long, steel bars that made up the far wall. Shackles dug into his wrists, the chain only giving him enough room to move his hands up to a foot apart, and another restraint, around his right ankle, was attached to a chain a couple yards long that tied him to where it was bolted to the floor in the corner. His muzzle was gone, although there was a leather band strapped around his throat, almost like some sort of collar. The cell was completely empty except for a toilet in the corner, and a sorry excuse for a mattress against the back wall.

Groaning, he raised his hands and rubbed his face, slowly pulling himself into a sitting position. Immediately, fluid rushed into his throat, and he choked, spitting and sending blood splattering all over the concrete. Running his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he felt the puncture wounds and realized that he must’ve bit down on it sometime when he had been unconscious. Coughing up the rest of the blood, he forced himself to breathe slowly, trying to ignore his stinging tongue.

When he had gotten his bearings a little better, he squinted, peering through the bars. In the cell across from him, Nya laid sprawled out on the floor, her chest rising and falling steadily as she slept. There was a nasty cut across her forehead, blood dripping into her eyes. Kai tasted the air, trying to catch the scent of any other injuries she might’ve had, but the scent of his own blood flooded his nostrils, blocking out anything else.

Against the back wall of the room, between their two cells, was the other occupied cell, where Lloyd was curled up on his mattress, the ashy gray color stained red beneath where his injured leg was stretched out. His chains were similar to the ones Kai and Nya had, although a significant amount shorter, so he could hardly even move around the cell.

Forcing himself to jerk his gaze away, he looked in the other direction. A few more cells stretched down the hallway, but they were all empty.

They were utterly alone.

The only sign of life in the place was the thin crack of light from underneath the door at the end of the hallway. Apart from that, though, the room was pitch black.

Kai leaned back against the wall with a huff. He had really done it now, hadn’t he? Gotten them all thrown in prison- they were likely either going to die or be kept here for the rest of their lives. There was no way that Borg would ever give them any freedom again, now that they knew too much.

There really was no escaping this one, was there?

Augh, if only him and Nya hadn’t had that stupid argument, they would be safe, back with the others right now.

Kai wondered how long they had been here. Had the others noticed their absence yet? Would they try to come after them?

As much as he wanted to be saved, wanted Nya and Lloyd to be safe, he really hoped they didn’t. The last thing he needed right now was the others being thrown in here with them. He hoped they ran far, far, away and never came back.

Kai wished for nothing more than to be back with them now, to feel one of Cole’s strong hugs, or Zane’s comforting presence, or even to hear one of Jay’s horrible jokes.

Kai buried his face in his knees and cried.

He just wanted to go home.

A soft moan sounded from across the room. “...Kai?”

Kai lifted his head briefly, meeting Nya’s tired, scared expression. “What?”

“What happened? Where are we?”

“Borg found us. He’s keeping us prisoner.” He lowered his face back into his knees, not even having the strength to hold his neck up anymore.

“Have you seen him yet? Borg?”

“No.”

“Have you spoken to anyone yet? Has anyone come down here?”

“No.”

Sensing the frustration in his tone, Nya fell silent. He heard the rattle of chains as she paced around the cell. For a long time, that was the only sound he heard, and after a while, he laid, face up, on his mattress, the sound of the chains the only thing reminding him that he wasn’t alone down here.

It could’ve been minutes or hours later when a noise sounded from the other side of the room. Kai sat up, glaring.

The door on the far end swung open, and light washed into the room. Kai threw his arms over his face, hissing at the brightness of it. After only a moment, though, the light faded, and Kai lowered his arms to see the door had been shut again. Flashlights clicked on, shining down the hall, and Kai squinted, catching sight of two trainers, and a vet, none of whose names Kai could remember.

With them, was Borg.

Nya growled at him, gripping the bars of her cell. “What do you want with us?”

“What I wanted was for you to do as you were told,” Borg told her, shining the light in her eyes, “but you just had to go and mess that up, didn’t you.”

Nya blinked furiously at the harsh light, but didn’t back down. “You wanted us to stand by and do nothing as you killed Lloyd?”

“Certain words are not meant for certain ears, dear. You two shouldn’t have been there that night. You really did make things much, much more complicated than they needed to be.”

“Why did you do it,” Kai snapped. “Why did you ever shelter us in the first place if all you were going to do was kill us?”

“Not you,” Borg corrected. “Only the boy. He messed everything up. The rest of you were supposed to be incredibly useful.”

“Stop dodging the question.”

“Boy, I am not dodging anything.” He turned his flashlight’s beam on Kai, his face suddenly looking a lot more threatening than Kai had ever seen it. “You are the one avoiding the truth here. I didn’t ‘take you in’ from anywhere. I made you. You and your mutant friends are nothing more than a lab experiment.”

Kai fell back from the bars, breathing out heavily. He heard Nya gasp, but he didn’t look at her. He didn’t look at anything, just at the ground.

“The truth stings, doesn’t it? You aren’t anything special, you aren’t unique. You were merely a trial for what is to come.”

“A trial for what?” Nya growled.

“You and your friends have been plenty useful. You have been resources to study, to sample DNA from, a test to see if we could contain you before we started making the others.”

Kai blinked. “Others?”

“Of course. You and your friends obviously didn’t work out- and you’re all too far gone now.”

“I don’t understand,” Kai asked. “Why do you want more… more people like us? You obviously don’t care about us.”

“I care about what you can do. Imagine the potential- a legion of seemingly normal people, such as yourself- who can, in the blink of an eye, transform into an army of great beasts! People who could fly, who could cross great distances in the blink of an eye, those who could hear our enemies coming from a mile away, or who could wield the strength of ten men. I’d be unstoppable!”

Kai and Nya exchanged horrified glances. “You’re building an army? What for?”

“Kai, my dear boy. Borg Industries is powerful, but we cannot do whatever we please. We still have so many regulations, limitations, and surveillance. Biotechnology, such as what we have developed, could change the world. But the world is deeply rooted in tradition, afraid of change. They would shun us, sue us for our groundbreaking discoveries, when we deserved to be praised and cheered for. What we need is more power. And power never comes for free. True power is only won through brute force.”

“You’ll never get anyone to comply with that,” Kai hissed. “We’re not objects, we’re living, breathing beings. You can’t just bend that to your will.”

“Oh, but we will. In time, anything can be controlled. We just need to make a few altercations to our future experiments. Something you and your friends have made incredibly easy by being our test subjects over the last couple decades. Your kind is really quite fascinating, you know.”

Kai bared his teeth and roared at him, but Borg merely laughed. “See, the problem with you is that we made you too human. Too sentient. There needs to be some balance, of course- a wild animal is untamed, it has no master- but a human being has too many weaknesses, too many thoughts of rebellion and betrayal.” Narrowing his eyes at Kai, he added, “Something we found out the hard way.

“We got closer with the child- his instincts appeared to be less humane, and he didn’t cause so much of a fuss.” He paused, frowning. “That is, until a few weeks ago.

“I think where we went wrong with him was the species. An oni and a dragon- two of the most powerful creatures known to man- we thought he would have unspeakable power. And he did- but it was too much, too much to be contained.

“But he has been a valuable resource- we shall use what we have learned with him to create a somewhat less powerful species. This time, we will get it right.”

Nya hissed at him, and he scowled, leaning over and spitting on her.

“The child has been very useful, indeed, but he has served his purpose, now. We no longer have a use for him.” Gesturing to the vet with one hand, she stepped forward, the carefully wrapped parcel in her hands now visible as she, Borg, and the trainers walked towards Lloyd’s cage.

“No!” Kai roared, jolting to his feet and racing to the bars. “Get away from him!”

“It’s for your own good. This child could off you in your sleep, if he so wished.”

Time was moving in slow motion. The door of Lloyd’s cage swung open with an eerie creak, and they filed inside. The vet unwrapped the parcel, revealing a syringe filled with a blue liquid, and a long, pointed needle on the end.

“Don’t you fuckin’ touch him!” Kai screamed, shaking at the bars of the cell. “You’re a deranged, psychotic, murdering bi-”

“Please, Dr. Borg, reconsider,” Nya whined, cutting off Kai’s violent string of curses. “We’ll be good, we’ll do what you want, just don’t kill him, please-”

“Shut up, the both of you,” Borg snapped. “We’re trying to work here. Nya, stop your sniveling, we know you’re not on our side. You’re no use to us anymore- Kai, stop trying to break through the bars, don’t you think we thought of that? Why do you think these cells are here in the first place? I had them made a while ago, as a precaution. They’re specifically tailored to counteract your special abilities. Nothing you do is going to break them.”

“I’ll kill you, I’ll find a way out of here and I’ll murder you-”

Borg sighed. “He’s losing it.” Turning to a trainer, he asked, “Turn it on, will you?”

The trainer pulled a small remote from his pocket, and turned a little dial.

Sharp, stinging pain shot through Kai’s neck, and he yelped, falling back from the bars and gripping at his neck- which was when he remembered the leather band there.

“I’m not-” he reached out, gasping as he wrapped a hand around one of the bars. “You’re not making me-”

The pain increased, and Kai doubled over, wheezing, his eyes watering. “Ahhh!”

“Kai!” Nya yelped. “Stop it, what are you doing to him?”

“Handy little device your trainers whipped up for you. Human shock collar. You like it? Except these things can deliver a lot more voltage than the kind people put on their dogs.”

“Stop it, please-” he moaned. Pins and needles were stabbing into his neck, the zinging reverberating down his spine.

“Do it, while he’s distracted.”

Kai pushed back against the pain, rolling his eyes up so that he could see Lloyd. The boy was still sleeping soundly on the mattress, although one ear was twitching slightly. Or maybe that was just the collar, vibrating him.

“Lloyd!” He screamed, the collar making his voice tremble. “Wake up, wake up, they’re going to-”

The pain increased tenfold, and Kai choked, falling to his knees. He gritted his teeth, and they chattered from the vibrations. He wasn’t giving up, he couldn’t-

“Lloyd!”

The roar ripped through the room, echoing off the walls and causing everyone in the room to flinch. Lloyd jerked awake, squealing as he caught sight of Borg and the needle. Leaping off of the mattress, he darted across the cell in a flash-

He stumbled with a squeak of pain as he tripped over his injured leg, tumbling to the floor. The trainers and Borg surrounded him, boxing him in as the vet approached slowly with the needle.

“Lloyd, fight! Fight back!”

Lloyd hissed in the vet’s face, fire shooting from his throat. The vet cried out, stumbling back. One of the trainers grabbed at him, and Lloyd whipped around, chomping down on her hand.

“He bit me,” she shrieked, pulling back. “The brat bit me, I’m probably going to get like, rabies or something!”

“You’ll be fine,” Borg snapped, “just stop him!”

Lloyd hissed in his face, jumping from the man’s hand as he reached for him-

Just as the vet stabbed the needle into his thigh.

Kai, Nya, and Lloyd screamed.

The pain from the shock collar barely registered anymore, the burning in his chest so much stronger. Kai gripped the bars of the cell, rage and fear and despair wracking his body so he didn’t even know how to function.

Borg had done it, he had killed him, he was gone-

Kai’s stomach heaved, and he turned away, throwing up across the concrete. How could this be happening, what had he done to deserve this, what had Lloyd done?

He hugged his knees to his chest, sobs shuddering through him, teeth rattling. He hadn’t even been able to save one person, he had failed everyone, Zane and Cole and Jay were going to hate him when they found out their baby brother was dead and Kai had done nothing to stop it-

Not that it mattered, it wasn’t like he was going to ever see them again.

Dammit, this was all his fault! He was so pathetic, how had he let this happen?

The hairs on the back of his neck tingled, and he glanced up and caught sight of Borg standing outside his cell, staring at him.

“You almost messed up everything, you brat. I’m not going to forget that.”

The pain increased again, and Kai screamed, feeling his eyes roll back in his head as blackness swamped at the edges of his vision.

“Turn it down, I don’t want him passing out.”

The pain dropped suddenly, and Kai gasped in relief, tears streaming down his eyes. It wasn’t gone completely, though- there was still a faint buzzing emitting from the collar- not enough to be painful, but enough to put him on edge.

Enough to remind him that he wasn’t the one in control here.

Not that Kai really cared anymore. Lloyd was dead. Nothing mattered.

Kai wanted to die.

---

Over the next few hours- days? minutes? he didn’t know, and frankly, he didn’t care- weariness dragged at Kai, but sleep wouldn’t come. No, sleep would be too easy, too peaceful. Instead, he laid awake, staring at the ceiling as darkness sapped at his limbs. He didn’t move to the mattress, just stayed on the floor. Maybe the coolness of the concrete could alleviate some of the raging heat storming inside of him.

Every once in a while, he mustered the strength to crawl over the toilet so he could throw up. He didn’t know why he bothered. Being hygienic didn’t matter to him anymore. Nothing mattered.

After the third time, though, he had thrown up everything his stomach had to give, and when his insides kept churning, he just rested his head on the side of the toilet and dry heaved.

“Kai,” Nya whispered after a minute of this. “Stop, you’re just going to make yourself sick again.”

“I don’t care,” he rasped, his throat dry and raw.

“Damn that, I don’t want to lose you too.”

“We’re all going to die down here eventually.”

She fell silent at that. She knew he was right.

“You’re scaring Lloyd, Kai. Don’t let him see you like this.”

“Are you delusional, Nya? Lloyd’s gone.”

“Not yet,” she whimpered. “It… it hasn’t kicked in yet. I guess it must take a while until… anyway, see for yourself.”

“I don’t want to. I’m scared.”

“He’s here, I promise you.”

“What if it’s too painful? I don’t want to see him if I’m just going to lose him in a few minutes.”

“What if you miss out on your only chance to see him one more time?”

Kai was quiet for a moment. Mustering all the strength he had left, he slowly turned over.

Lloyd was sitting at the edge of his cell, staring at him. He was smiling softly at Kai, but his eyes were fearful. Kai tried to ignore how his ears were drooping, how his tail hung limp, and his eyelids heavy with sleep, one he would never wake up from-

Kai broke into tears, and Lloyd churred softly, leaning against the bars as he reached his fingers through. Kai did the same, although there was still a gaping distance between them.

“I’m scared,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Kai choked through the tears. “I’m sorry this happened to you. You don’t deserve any of it.”

“‘s not your fault,”

“It’s not yours, either,” Nya told him. “None of this happened because of you. I want you to remember that, okay? Don’t… don’t think about that, now.”

Nya buried her face in her hands, whimpering. Lloyd leaned his face on the bars. “I love you guys.”

“We love you too, bud,” Kai whispered. “More than you will ever know.”

---

Sleep found him eventually- that, or lack of fluids caused him to pass out. Either way, some time had passed by the time he drug his eyelids open again.

Squinting, he realized there were people standing in front of Lloyd’s cell. Sounds filtered in slowly, taking a moment to come through clearly.

“-don’t understand, why hasn’t it kicked in yet? He should’ve stopped breathing long ago.”

“I’m not sure. This should have worked. It might have something to do with his lineage, I suppose- perhaps his genes grant him extra immunity to fight back against it.”

“That seems logical. He definitely seems very drowsy and sluggish, so it obviously had some effect on him-”

“But not the one we wanted,” a third voice snapped. As consciousness came fully, he connected the voice to Borg. “Apparently he’s immune to euthenasia drugs, now? What next? This is only more proof of what I’ve been saying- he’s becoming more dangerous. We should’ve killed him right away, that first night, when we had the chance.”

“It’s alright, sir, we still have time. He’s not going anywhere, down here. We can develop a stronger serum.”

“Do you think it will work?”

“With the right blood samples from him, I can be confident of it.”

“How soon can you have it ready?”

“A few days, a week- it’s hard to tell until I start.”

“Fine. But it better work this time. Or you’re fired.”

“You have my word, sir.”

Footsteps echoed past his cell, then down the hall. The sound of the door swinging shut determined they had left. Kai sat up immediately.

“Nya! Did you hear that?”

“It didn’t work,” she breathed. “He’s going to be okay!”

“For now. How long do you think it’s going to take them to make the new drug?”

“If I know Borg, I wouldn’t bet on long. We have to find a way out of here before we actually do lose him.”

“But how?” He breathed out, falling back against the wall. “We’re trapped here. The securative measures aren’t exactly light. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Nya was quiet for a moment. “We’ll figure something out.”

“I sure hope so.”

Nya turned towards Lloyd’s cell, pressing her face against the bars. “How’re you doing, Lloydster?”

Lloyd murmured sleepily at her, and she sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad it didn’t kill him, but I hope it doesn’t make him sick.”

“Yeah. It seems like he’s just tired, but who knows.”

The door swung open again, and the two shied back from the light. Two people shuffled in, both unfamiliar, and Kai eyed them warily.

They were young, probably not much older than Cole. Kai was surprised that Borg was even letting them know that Kai and the other hybrids existed, not to mention letting them in their cell block alone.

The male stretched out his hand as he passed, letting his knuckles clack against the bars eerily.

“What do you want,” Kai snapped.

“Chill out, mutant boy, I’m here to feed you.”

Just at the mention of food, Kai’s stomach rumbled. His mouth watered, and against his will, he found himself leaning towards the man. He hadn’t eaten- or drank- anything since the morning of their capture- which, although he had no idea how much time had passed, felt like forever ago. He had even considered drinking out of the toilet at one point, but had decided he wasn’t that desperate.

Yet.

The man laughed at his expression. “Check it out, Em. They really are like animals.”

Kai clenched his teeth, surging up to the bars. “Listen, you punk, you don’t know-”

He was interrupted as his shock collar went off, screaming with pain as he rolled to his knees, frothing at the mouth. He heard shrieks from Nya and Lloyd too, but he was in too much pain to move. The rusty hinges of his cell door screeched as the man entered, laying two metal bowls by the wall. He felt his arms get tugged back, metal cuffs clicking around them. He wanted to kick and hiss at the man, hurt him while he was still within distance, but the pain from the collar stopped him.

There was a dry, rattling sound as the man filled his bowls, then exited the cell, locking the door firmly. Then, finally, the pain dropped away.

“What was that for,” he rasped, his voice still raw from the sudden shock.

“Couldn’t have you fighting back, could we?”

Kai grimaced. He glanced over at Nya and Lloyd and saw they had been cuffed too. “Why do we need handcuffs to eat? Isn’t that sort of counterintuitive?”

“Borg says you’re feisty. Doesn’t want to take the chance of you using anything that’s not bolted down to your advantage. Or to try and kill yourself. He wants to keep you around for a while yet, in case he needs to do any more testing.”

“You think I could escape- or kill myself- with a bowl?”

“You’d be surprised what people can do when they’re desperate. Now, eat up- unless you want to be handcuffed the rest of the night.”

Kai turned to the bowls, squinting at them. One was filled with a gritty-looking water that didn’t seem much more appealing than the toilet water. The other was filled with small, hard, brown pellets.

“What is this, dog food?” Nya scoffed.

The woman smiled. “That’s exactly what it is, sweetheart. What, you weren’t expecting a five-course meal, were you?”

“You can’t seriously expect us to eat this!”

“Would you rather have no food?” The woman asked sweetly. “I’m sure that could be arranged.”

Nya went quiet, but her nose wrinkled as she stared down at the food.

Kai sighed. As unappetizing as it was, it beat the horrible hunger pangs, or passing out from dehydration. He went to reach for the bowl-

Then he remembered the handcuffs.

“How the hell are we supposed to eat with our hands tied behind our backs?”

The guy smiled wickedly. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, kitty.”

Kai felt his face turn bright red. They wanted them to eat from the bowl like dogs. This was humiliating.

But he was so hungry. He didn’t know when the next opportunity for food would come.

Leaning down, he scooped up a mouthful of the pellets. They were gritty and sour, one of the worst things Kai had ever tasted in his life, but at this point he didn’t care. He could hear the man and woman who had brought the food laughing and jeering behind him, and he tried to ignore it. It was this, or starve.

After he had finished the food, he burped at the awful taste, trying to suppress the urge to throw it all up. But he forced himself to lick the sides of the bowl, getting every bit of food he could scrounge.

The dry, salty taste of the dog food had only worsened his thirst now, and by this point he didn’t care how dirty the water looked, setting upon it with frantic laps of his tongue. He immediately found it to be much harder than eating. Water dribbled down his chin, so by the time the bowl was empty, his front side was soaked and only about half of the liquid had actually been swallowed. The man and woman got a kick out of that, joking that he had wet himself. Kai had never felt worse than this in his life. He would rather take the pain from the shock collar. He had wanted to go hide behind the toilet for the rest of the night, but knew that would only make the teasing worse.

After what seemed like forever, Nya and Lloyd finally finished their meals and the man and woman turned their attention away from Kai. The shock collars were turned on again, and Kai was once again helplessly paralyzed with pain as the man came in and removed his handcuffs, put the more flexible shackles back on, and took away the bowls. When the cell doors were locked, the shock collars were turned off. Kai forced himself to stay still until the man and woman were gone, but as soon as the room’s door was shut, he collapsed into a ball, hugging himself and shivering.

No one spoke for a long time after that, letting him know that he wasn’t the only one deeply disturbed by their experience.

Kai’s sleep was broken and feverish that night, filled with dreams of him, Lloyd, and Nya locked up in a giant kennel. Children kept peering in, poking their fingers at them and barking at them. They dressed him up in bows and made him do tricks, laughing and giving him dog treats when he complied, and zapping him with the shock collar when he didn’t.

He burst awake in a cold sweat, crying with relief when he realized it had just been a dream.

He didn’t fall asleep again after that, even though his whole body felt heavy with exhaustion.

The next time the door opened, he scrambled back from the light, hissing. His head was aching, and the darkness offered the only sort of comfort right now.

But he was ignored, four trainers walking past his and Nya’s cages and towards the one on the end. Instantly, Kai was at the bars, watching them carefully with bared teeth. If they tried to pull something again-

Well, what was he going to do? He was helpless in here.

Glancing over, he saw a pair of yellow-green eyes glowing in the darkness and knew that Nya was watching, too.

The door of Lloyd’s cage slowly creaked open, and a pair of trainers slipped in. Lloyd hissed at them as they approached, and they stopped. Slowly, one of the trainers reached out, and Lloyd snapped at his hand, and he yanked it away, barely escaping unscathed.

The other trainer grabbed an object from his pocket that Kai recognized as the remote to the shock collars, and Kai immediately shied back, trembling as he remembered the pain.

“Behave, mutant,” the trainer with the remote snapped. “Or we will not hesitate to turn this on.”

Lloyd looked at the remote with wide eyes, his ears pressed flat against his head. Kai had been in some of the worst pain of his life the previous night- or whenever it had been, his internal clock had been all thrown off by the dark dungeon- and Lloyd was less than half his size. He didn’t want to think about how hard it must’ve been on his little body.

Reaching down, the other trainer in the cell clipped something onto his collar, then unfurled it. It was a blue, leather leash.

The trainer with the remote pulled a key out of his pocket and crouched down next to Lloyd. He hesitated, giving him a pointed glare. “Remember, no funny business.” Swiftly, he unlocked the chain around his leg.

Lloyd bolted, immediately falling to the floor as the trainer switched on the collar. Lloyd whimpered, writhing, and Kai growled, “Stop!”

A trainer outside of the cage whipped around. “Be quiet, or we won’t hesitate to turn yours on, too.”

“Turn it off,” another one said. “He needs to have strength to walk.”

Lloyd fell still, chest heaving as the collar deactivated. “You’re not going anywhere, pet,” the trainer with the leash scoffed, giving the leash a sharp tug for emphasis. “So don’t even try.”

The trainers filed out of the cage, tugging Lloyd none-to-genly behind them.

“What are you going to do to him?” Kai growled. “Where are you taking him?”

“Your little mutant has proven to be quite stubborn,” one of the trainers scowled. “But our vets are some of the best out there. With only a few blood samples, we’ll have a strong enough drug, don’t you worry.”

“He’s lost too much blood already,” Kai hissed. “You can’t do that.”

“What does it matter to us if he passes out? The creature is of no value to us- in fact, that would only make our job easier.”

Kai roared at her, and a sharp jolt zapped through him. He glared at the trainers. “It’s going to take more than that to quiet me.”

“Careful. If you cause too much trouble, we might zap the little guy, too.”

Kai snapped his jaws shut, his gaze drifting to Lloyd, who was struggling to his feet as the collar tugged tightly at his neck.

“Come on, pet,” the trainer holding Lloyd’s leash demanded. “We don’t have all day.”

Lloyd stumbled after him, but after only a few steps, his bad leg gave out and he tumbled to the floor, crying out.

“Get up!” The trainer yanked on the leash, jolting Lloyd towards him.

“Stop it, he can’t walk on that leg!” Nya cried. “It’s still injured!”

“Then crawl,” the trainer snapped, kicking him forward, and Lloyd jerked onto his hands and knees, shuffling after the trainers slowly.

Kai watched him pass, his ears flattened and his tail tucked between his legs as he was yanked along by the leash, and felt a sick feeling rise in his stomach. This wasn’t right, it was humiliating and a blatant disregard of dignity.

He didn’t understand how he had gone so long in Borg Tower without realizing the signs. How they had always been viewed as lesser, as objects for Borg’s use. No one had ever cared about them. All the toys, the trinkets, the gadgets, the outings- had been nothing but a trick to make them feel like they were worth something.

Nya had been right. As soon as they got out of here, Kai was gonna let Lloyd be whoever he wanted to be, and not make him change for anybody.

If they got out of here.

Kai crawled into the corner of his cage and curled up in a ball, hugging his knees to his chest, trying to ignore the depressing thoughts raging around in his head. He couldn’t afford to listen to them right now, right now he was just trying to focus on not throwing up. He didn’t know how long it would be until they next got food or water.

He was faintly aware of the shivers wracking his body, and wondered if he was coming down with something. He wouldn’t be surprised- he hadn’t consumed anything but dog food and stale water since they had been here, and had been wearing the same crusty clothes the whole time, too. There hadn’t even been a sink provided in the cage, not that it would do much to help him without soap, anyway.

Just another problem to add the list, he supposed.

It was funny how, before they had been captured, he had been so resentful and stressed about their situation, thinking it was one of the worst times of his life.

He would give pretty much anything to have those problems back, now.

---

“It’s been twelve hours since they were supposed to be back,” Jay yelped, pacing back and forth, his footsteps echoing sharply with an unusual agitation. “Even if something had happened, they would’ve come back by now, or at least called us.”

“They could’ve ran out of minutes,” Cole rationalized. “These damn prepaids don’t last very long.”

“But why wouldn’t they come back? Kai and Nya would never worry us like this, not unless they didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

“I know.” Cole ran his fingers through his hair. “But maybe they escaped. Maybe they ran and didn’t want to risk leading anyone back here.”

“I hope you’re right. If anything’s happened to them-” his lip quivered, and he looked away as tears pricked his eyes.

“Jay, it’s going to be okay.” Cole reached out, setting a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to find them.”

“You can’t promise that,” Jay barked, flinching away.

“No. But I’m going to do everything in my power to try. They’re our family, Jay. Family doesn’t give up on family.”

“I know,” Jay sniffed, wiping at his eyes. “I’m just scared.”

Cole wrapped his hands around him, letting Jay bury his face in his shoulder. “Me too, bud. Me too.”

Jay and Cole jumped nearly a foot in the air as the door swung open, and Cole let out a breath of relief as he realized it was only Zane.

“Did you find anything?”

Zane shook his head. “No sign of them anywhere. I even asked a few of the shopkeepers- as many as I could without raising suspicion, anyway- by showing them a photo I had. A few of them thought they looked familiar, but no one was able to tell me where they went or if they had seen anything out of the ordinary.”

“We have to do something,” Jay insisted. “If they’re being held hostage somewhere, who knows what they’ll do to them.”

“What can we do?” Cole asked. “I want to do something as much as you do, but we don’t have anywhere to start. We don’t even know where they are.”

“Maybe not,” Zane admitted, “but we can make an educated guess. The most likely reason that Kai and Nya have not gotten back to us is that they were captured. There are two main parties most likely responsible. Borg Industries- and the Ninjago City Police.”

Jay frowned. “How do we know the police are against us?”

“We don’t. But we can’t entirely clear them yet, either. If they found out Kai, Nya, and Lloyd’s secret, they could possibly see them as a threat and lock them up.”

“But if hybrids like us are such a rare thing, the news would be all over this if the police had discovered them,” Cole pointed out. “We’re basically living under a rock in here, but you would’ve seen something, like on TV or somewhere, when you went out, wouldn’t you have?”

“Fair point. So we can most likely conclude that it was Borg that found them.”

Jay put his head in his hands. “Last time we saw Borg, he wanted to kill Lloyd. If we’re going to do something, we better hurry.”

“Where do you think he’s keeping them?” Cole asked. “Borg Tower?” “That feels too simple,” Jay muttered. “He knows that’s the first place we’d look. But at the same time, I have no idea where else they would be.”

“We can’t just storm the building,” Zane argued. “There’s only three of us. Even with our enhanced abilities, it would never be enough to get through Borg’s headquarters. If we even knew where to begin looking for them, that is. Borg Tower isn’t exactly small.”

“What options do we have?” Jay whined. “We can’t afford to waste any time. We have no idea what Borg could be doing to them right now. And, besides, even if we could wait a while, it’s not like we’re magically going to gain more allies or anything.”

“We need to come up with some sort of plan,” Zane insisted, “Otherwise we’re going to end up getting captured too, which won’t help anyone.”

“You’re both right. We can’t go in without a plan, but we can’t afford to wait, either. And no one’s going to have an epiphany just sitting around here thinking. If we’re going to make a plan that’ll work, we need more information.”

“How do you suggest we get it?” Zane frowned.

“We sneak down and scope out Borg Tower. We don’t breach it, just observe what we can from afar.”

Jay glanced at him skeptically. “You really think we’ll be able to find out much like that?”

“Does anyone else have any better ideas?”

No one said anything.

“Then it’s settled. That’s what we’re doing.”

“When do we set out?” Jay asked.

“I would like to leave as soon as possible, but it’s just too risky. If we don’t want to get caught, we should wait until the cover of dusk is on our side. I also don’t think we should risk taking the bus at all, and it’s a few hours walk to Borg Tower. We’ll leave here late afternoon.”

Zane and Jay exchanged glances, nodding. “Do you want us to do anything, Cole?”

“I dunno. Grab something to eat, get some rest if you can. I have no idea how long this is going to take. Pack up the bare essentials, just in case we’re not able to come back.

“Come this afternoon, be ready. We’re going to get our family back.”

---

Cole stared up at the looming skyscraper in front of him, his heart pounding in his chest.

This was it. They were here.

“Keep walking, Cole,” Zane whispered from behind him. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

Cole picked up the pace, falling into step behind Jay, and melting into the crowd of passersby around them.

“What do we do now?” Jay whispered back to him.

“Just keep an eye out for-” Cole stopped, his gaze drifting towards the front doors of Borg Tower.

“What is it?”

“Over there,” he hissed, nodding sideways in the direction. Two people, emerging from the doors of Borg Tower, whom Cole didn’t recognize, but noticed the familiar outfits of the caretakers, had slung garbage bags over their shoulders, and were heading towards the back to toss them out.

“It might not be much, but it’s as good a place as any to start,” he whispered. “Let’s go!”

Subtly slipping past the citizens, he darted around the side of Borg Tower, Zane and Jay on his heels.

He froze in place as the muffled voices of the caretakers came into view. They were close. But not close enough. He needed to get closer if he wanted to be able to listen in.

If only Kai were here. Where was the guy with superhearing when you needed him?

If only they were all here. Cole just wanted them to be safe. He didn’t know what he would do if they found them and one or more of them were already gone.

But now wasn’t the time to think about that. Now, he had a job to do.

“Transform,” he whispered to the others. “You’ll be smaller, and easier to hide that way.”

With a flash, the three boys were gone, and a badger, a labrador, and a falcon stood in their place.

Crouching low to the ground, Cole edged around the corner.

The caretakers were hauling the trash bags into a dumpster a little ways down. Jay dropped down onto his belly and wriggled under the dumpster in front of them, Cole and Zane squeezing under after him, with considerable more difficulty.

“-giving us a lot of trouble,” the voices filtered in as they got within earshot. “I can’t wait until this whole thing is over and done with.”

“Have they gotten any closer with the drug yet?” the male voice asked.

“Somewhat, I think.” A second voice, the female. “They’re gathering a lot of blood from the kid, which seems to be helping, but it still could take up to a week.”

“What about the older ones? What’s he going to do with them?”

“Borg wants to keep them alive, for now, to see if they can give him any clues to where the rest of them are. I’m not so sure, though- they’re both very stubborn. I think they’d rather die than give up any information. Especially the lion one- he doesn’t seem like he’s gonna last much longer. We can hardly get him to eat anything.”

Cole clenched his teeth, biting back the shuddering breath. So they had been right. Borg did have their friends.

And, from the sounds of it, they were running out of time to save them.

“Do you have the key?” The female snapped. “We can’t have anyone breaking in here.”

“Here.” There was a jangle of metal as the padlock was locked, and then footsteps came sharply towards them. Cole shrunk back, watching their feet cautiously as they passed.

“Why would they need to lock a dumpster?” Jay whispered.

Zane’s eyes glinted. “The only logical solution is that there’s something in there they don’t want anyone to see. They must be hiding evidence. We need to see what’s in those garbage bags.”

“Zane, wait-” Cole hissed, but the falcon was already slipping out from under the dumpster where they were hiding, and over to the one the caretakers had put the bags in.

Jay let out a whine, and Cole crept forward, so he could peer out at Zane. The falcon was perched on top of the dumpster, sticking a talon into the lock as he jiggled it. The clanking of metal echoed threateningly through the air.

“Zane, stop,” he begged. “We can’t let them catch us, we have to wait until we know for sure they’re-”

“What the- I knew I heard something back here!”

Cole cringed back, and Jay yelped beside him as the man’s feet came into view. Cole quickly shushed him. The man had only seen Zane. Revealing themselves as well would only make it easier for him to connect the dots about who they were.

“Shoo, pest, shoo!” The man cried, running towards Zane but still keeping a respectable distance from the large bird of prey. Zane squawked, and Cole heard a flutter of feathers that he hoped was Zane flying away.

“What’s going on, Jake-” the woman called, her footsteps hurrying over and halting abruptly. “Holy shit! Is that a falcon?”

Cole cringed. It didn’t take a genius to know that falcons weren’t native to Ninjago City.

“It’s him!” she cried. “The falcon. It has to be! Quick, catch him!”

Cole shuffled forward as the two scuffled after Zane, who was shrieking and squawking as he flapped just above their heads.

C’mon, Zane, get them out of here-

The woman jumped up, catching his wing in her grasp, and yanked, sending a handful of tawny feathers flying. Zane screeched in pain, falling to the ground.

Jay yelped behind him, and before Cole could stop himself, he shot out from under the dumpster, and latched his jaws around the woman’s shoe.

She screamed, attempting to shake him off. “The other one’s here too! It’s got me, it’s got me, get it off!” She kicked, hard, and Cole went tumbling off her foot, right in front of the man, who raised his foot to deliver a kick-

The man stumbled backwards as something jerked at his leg. A yellow lab was sinking his teeth into his pant leg, holding him back. Releasing it, he barked loudly, running circles around the man as he tried to land a hit on the small dog. But Jay was too fast.

On his other side, Zane was struggling to his feet, oblivious of the woman running up behind him. Dashing past the falcon, there was a flash, and suddenly Cole was five feet taller, and punching the woman in the face with very human knuckles. She crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

The man cried out as he tripped over Jay, and before he could blink, the dog was gone, and Jay was pinning him to the ground with a foot.

The man’s face dissolved into panic as Cole approached him. “Please, don’t hurt me, I won’t tell them about you, I promise.”

Cole paused, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Don’t do it, Cole,” Zane urged, now no longer a bird, and sitting on the floor. “He’s lying. He’ll run right back to them and we’ll be captured before the day is up.”

“I swear, I won’t!” the man begged. “I needed this job! I was told it was such a great opportunity, I had no idea what I was getting into! I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Rich that you’re having a change of heart now,” Jay snorted. “You didn’t seem too concerned about us a minute ago.”

“Please, let me go, if they find me here and figure out I let you escape, they’ll kill me! I have a family!”

Cole glanced at the others. Jay looked uncertain. Zane looked angry. “I still say he’s bluffing.”

Cole glanced down at the man. The terror in his eyes was real, that was for sure. Relenting, he breathed out, taking a step back. “That may be so, but we’re not like them. Jay, let him go.”

Jay looked up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Slowly, Jay moved his foot, and the man bolted to his feet. Cole reached out, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt before he could slip away. Pulling him close, Cole gave him the hardest glare he could muster.

“If I let you go, you’re gonna run. Run as far away from here as you possibly can, and never come back. If you rat us out to anyone- anyone, Borg worker or otherwise- I will personally track you down and find you. And I’ve got the best tracker in the whole city on my side, so I won’t fail. Is that clear?”

The man nodded frantically, his eyes wide. His voice came out a squeak. “I swear on my life, I won’t tell a soul.”

“You better not.” And, with barely a beat of hesitation, Cole released him.

The man was gone in the blink of an eye.

“I hope I didn’t just blow it,” he breathed.

“I can’t tell you if that was the right decision or not,” Jay said, “but you were right about one thing. We’re not like them. If he tells anyone, he’s the scum, not you.”

“I know this sounds dumb, but I don’t think he will. I just had… a feeling.”

“Feelings and survival don’t mix,” Zane snapped.

Cole turned to him, where he still sat on the ground. “I’m sorry, buddy, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it.”

“I’m not blaming you, I just don’t trust him,” he muttered, pulling his leg closer to his body with a wince.

Debate forgotten, Cole started forward. “Are you okay? Did she hurt you?”

“Just pulled out a few feathers, nothing serious. But I think I landed badly on my ankle.”

Cole crouched down, tracing his fingers along his ankle. Zane flinched back, grimacing.

“Sorry. Does it hurt bad?”

“Yeah. I think it might be sprained.”

“Hey, guys?”

“Not now, Jay. Do you think we could-”

“Guys!” Jay cried. “This isn’t really something that can wait!” Cole glared back at him. “What?”

Jay held up a small, black device. Cole squinted at it, adjusting his glasses. “What’s so important about that?”

“It’s a pager, Cole. It fell out of the caretaker’s pocket. If she used it, there’s probably Borg employees on their way here right now!”

“Shit,” he muttered. “We gotta get out of here.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to say!”

“Cole, I don’t think I can walk,” Zane admitted. “You two should go without me.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Cole fumed. “We’re family, we don’t leave each other behind!”

“I’ll only slow you down.”

Muffled shouts and harried footsteps came from somewhere nearby. Jay whipped towards them, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Hurry, guys, they’re coming!”

“Get on my back,” Cole demanded. “Now.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I’m going to carry you. Now, hurry!”

Jay helped Zane to his feet, and his friend slipped his hands around Cole’s neck, wrapping his legs around his waist. He had only just about gotten into place when Cole took off running, Jay on his heels.

The lab hybrid quickly overtook him, sniffing the air and leading them down a maze of alleys and backroads. He glanced back at them, his gaze nervously darting to something behind him. Cole didn’t even dare look back.

“Hurry, Cole! They’re getting closer!” “I’m running as fast as I can,” he huffed, although he forced himself to put on a burst of speed.

“Cole…”

“I swear, Zane, if you ask me to leave you behind one more time, I will punch you in the face.”

Zane fell quiet after that, but Cole could still feel his reluctance.

“Cole, watch out, they’ve got-” Jay’s warning was cut off with a yelp as a net came hurling through the air towards them, snagging Jay’s leg.

“-net launchers!” he finished.

“Jay!” “Don’t stop, don’t stop, I’ll be out in a second-”

Cole gritted his teeth, and kept running, even as he passed him.

“Jay, hurry!”

“I’m here, I’m here,” Jay called a moment later, already at his side again. “But they’re getting closer! This isn’t working!”

“Stop running!” A voice called from behind them, over a megaphone. “You will not evade capture. You are only making the consequences worse for yourself. Give up now, and you will be shown mercy!” “Sorry, but last time Borg showed us ‘mercy,’ we barely escaped with our lives,” Cole retorted.

“They’re right, though,” Jay murmured. “We’re never going to be able to outrun them! We need a new plan.”

“Well, we don’t have another plan.”

“I might have one. Keep running, stick to the left roads, that’ll take you out of town.”

Cole snatched his wrist before he could dart away. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m gonna distract them. Lead them somewhere else so you guys can get away.”

“Will you two stop trying to sacrifice yourself,” Cole growled, “For five minutes?”

“I’m not sacrificing myself! I know these streets. I’m faster and more cunning than either of you. I can get away, if I’m on my own. I have no intention of getting caught, trust me.”

“It’s too risky. We’re not splitting up.”

“But-”

“Cole’s right, Jay. We already are down three members, and it’s going to be a whole lot harder to save them if there’s only two of us left.”

“I told you, I won’t get caught!”

“You can’t promise that,” Cole argued. “You’re staying with us, end of discussion.”

“Then what other plans you got, badger boy?”

Cole didn’t look at him.

“Over there!” Zane pointed. “Down that alley, about one hundred feet down, there’s a path hidden behind those vines.”

“What?” Jay snapped. “No there isn’t!”

“Are you forgetting who has falcon-vision here?” Zane retaliated.

“Just do it,” Cole hissed. “It’s not like we have a wide range of options, here!”

They darted down the alley Zane had pointed them down, and Cole scanned the wall for anything unusual. “Where is it?”

“Keep going,” Jay pressed, “We need to get through it before they round the corner or they’ll just follow us in!”

“Right there!” Zane pointed.

Following his finger, Cole caught sight of a patch of vines, the brick crumbling away behind it.

“Jackpot, Zane!” Cole cheered.

Jay scrambled through first, holding back the vines as Cole maneuvered through more carefully, trying to account for Zane. As soon as they were through, Jay yelped, “Go, go, go!” Cole’s lungs were killing him by this point, but he didn’t hesitate to race after him. He would be stupid to belive they were safe now. Already, he could hear the angry shouts of the Borg security officers behind them, and knew it wouldn’t be long before they found the broken wall.

But it had given them a moment. And, right now, they needed every moment they could get.

“What are… what are we going to do now?” Cole wheezed.

“We can’t keep this up,” Zane frowned, watching him with concern. “You can’t keep running forever. Not even Jay.”

“We need help,” Jay panted. “We can’t do this on our own.”

“Who’s going to help us?” Cole huffed. “We’re alone. Nobody has our backs in this.”

“I don’t know, maybe we can go ask someone. Those are houses over there, right? Maybe someone will agree to hide us.”

“They’ll probably think we’re escaped criminals, bozo. No one’s gonna agree to hide some random fugitive.”

“Well, what other choice do we have?”

“I… may have an idea,” Zane said quietly.

They looked at him expectantly, but he hesitated. “Well?” Jay yipped. “Are you going to tell us, or not?”

“You’re not going to like it… but there is somewhere we could go.”

Jay threw up his hands. “We don’t have time for this Zane, they’re gonna find us any minute! Just get to the point!”

“We could go… to the police.”

#ninjago #NinjagoInhumanAuWeek #For the Romping and the Roaring #R&R #Part 3 #oof yeah i definitely cried writing this #hopefully it wasn't too angsty for y'all #it wasn't originally going to be this bad i swear #it just kind of... got away from me 😅#rosie writes #my fic

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sweatpeeee · 4 years

Text

Love potion AU (part2)

yo yo yo yo yooooooooo

wassup guys, I FINALLY have part 2 ready!!!!! It only took me forever. but yeah! I hope you guys enjoy! Thanks for all the love and support btw! thank you so much for 114 followers!!! genuinely so amazing! anyways with no further adieu, her is part 2 (hey that rhymed lmao)

Warnings: swearing, passing out, Peter being petty, Brad being concerned. and i think that’s it! LMK if I missed anything! :)

It seemed the peter couldn’t suppress the giddy smile on his face, the boy basically skipping down the hallway with a tiny glass vial closed off with corkscrew twirling between his fingers. The substance glowed blue, but only when it was stirred did the liquid radiate. Peter felt his heart race at the thought of having MJ in his arms finally noticing and loving him the way he’s always dreamed. He imagined walking down the hall with his hand in Michelles as she leaned her on his shoulder, Peter’s ears burned red at these intrusive innocent thoughts that crossed his mind. His pace was fast to his locker, too excited at the power that the little container held.

“What is that?” Peter felt his soul leave his body at the sudden question from his best friend who was breathing down his neck. Peter spun around gasping and clutching his chest.

“Ah! Ned! What the Hell?!?” Slowly feeling his body untense, his breathing still rapid.

“What is that” Ned asked again nonchalantly as if he didn’t almost give his best friend a heart attack.

“Oh, uh… it’s- you know... it’s web fluid-” Of course, Peter’s best friend knew he was lying-not mentioning that peter’s voice goes up six octaves when he lies.

“You seem to forget that I am your best friend and that I have actually seen what your web fluid really looks like.” The boy with a bucket hat lifted up his brow unamused.

“God, Fine I’ll tell you- but you have to promise me you wont get mad at me or tell anyone.” Peter whispered while leaning towards his friend. Ned leaned closer too, slightly giddy.

“It’s a love potion-” The boy mutters, Ned shoots his head up, beyond shocked.

“ No, No, no, no. I am NAWT letting you do that- nope-” The outburst caused many students to cast their gaze at the two boys, muttering a few insults that the bucket hat boy didn’t seem to pay attention to.

“Ned, would you shut up??? Just listen-” Peters hands were waving around trying to get his friend to quiet down, “And you promised you wouldn’t get mad!-”

“No! I am mad! Because it’s about time I tell you how INSANE you sound!-” Ned began to whisper aggressively with teeth clenched shut, “I mean you cannot be serious! That's genuinely horrible, Peter and I’m deadass disappointed in you-”

“What’s horrible?” The sudden quiet and soft voice broke their bickering- both boys froze with wide eyes and turned towards you. Your books clutched to your chest, your fingers picking at your already damaged binder.

“Y/n! Hey! Uh… when did you get here?” Peter’s hand whipped behind his back to hide the substance that would help with his goal to win over a girls heart.

“Um.. A few minutes ago- what were you guys talking about?” You sensed they were hiding something but couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You simply gave them a confused glance. Ned’s smile was strained but sweet nonetheless, peter sweating buckets next to him.

“N-Nothing! Nope, nothing at all- just how… uh,” Ned glanced at Peter for any sort of help, the brunette shrugged helplessly, “Just how- how dumb-” Ned lands a pinch to Peter’s forearm- resulting in a wince and yelp from the boy, “-Peter is for not consulting with us about a…. OH- A movie night without us!” Ned grumbled between his clenched yet smiling state, “Right Pete?”

“Y-Yeah! Of course! Caught me ha ha… um yeah I just wanted to surprise you guys- you know what they say…. Surprises never come often!” He clears his throat… His palm sweaty from your perplexed gaze.

“God, I forget how absolutely weird you guys are. Whatever- uh movie sounds great but I think I won't be able to make it-” You began backing up to head to your first period, unwilling to be around the boy you swooned over. It’s probably best you stayed away to avoid heartbreak. Plus, he was most likely going to invite MJ and you weren’t in the mood to see your crush drool over your best friend, that was until a figure placed their arm around your shoulders.

“I think she means she can’t wait to have a movie night!” Speak of the devil. MJ dragged you back to the two boys who were still trying to act casual.

“MJ, please- I really-” You muttered until the curly haired girl cut you off,

“No, y/n- you can’t bail and expect things to stop being difficult- come on.” She muttered back, “so who’s house?” she smirked. You glanced at Peter, already becoming a flushed mess, his mouth tripping over his own tongue.

“W-we can go to- to uh- to mine… if you guys want..-” You would’ve thought that stutter was adorable if only the reason wasn’t for your best friend's presence that was making him blush.

“Cool. 8pm, no later.” and with that, she spins around and heads to class right as the bell rings.

Y/n felt uneasy the rest of the day- feeling her stomach drop at the sheer thought of going to the movie night just to watch Peter drool over her best friend.

As the final bell of the day rang, y/n gathered her things and headed to her locker in a hurry- in hopes to avoid her group of friends. She shuts her locker and spins towards the exit, only to run into someone- felt like a brick wall honestly. Looking up to meet the tall figures' eyes to apologize, your eyes widen.

“Hey, Y/n!” The boy smirked looking down at you, showing his bright clean teeth.

“Oh, Brad- I’m so sorry I wasn’t even aware-”

“No! You’re all good! It was my fault I should’ve warned you or something-” Brad laughed, his eyes crinkling on the edges. You had to admit that Brad was very attractive. He has a strong build and was very kind, he always seemed to be very happy to be around you. Lately Brad has been hanging out with you during lunch or in between classes, He even offered to become your year long chemistry partner. You would even go as far as consider Brad a friend.

“Well, sorry anyway” You looked down at your shoes before forcing yourself to look up at your eyes, “uh, how can I help you?” You couldn’t help but blush at his intense gaze.

“Well, I swear I had it at the tip of my tongue but I seemed…” He smirked as he leaned his hand on the locker next to your head- you felt yourself shrink under him, “- to get lost in those beautiful y/e/c eyes of yours. I must’ve forgotten what I was trying to tell you.” your cheeks and ears burned red.

“Oh god- Brad stop that-” You giggled as you ducked under his arm to walk towards the school doors. Brad followed with an easy strut, of course it didn’t take much to catch up to you- The dude was tall as hell.

Brad let out a hearty laugh, now walking next to you, “now, you know I’m just teasing you y/n- I love the way you get all hot and bothered when I compliment you.” You just shook your head with a grin adorning your features, “Hey, is it ok if I walk you home?” You look up at the kind boy, happy at the idea that at least someone wants to be around you voluntarily.

“I mean-” right then you feel an arm drape over my shoulder and interrupt your conversation.

“Hey, Brad! How’s it going dude,” MJ lets go of you for a second and gives him a bro hug.

“Hey MJ, it’s going pretty good- Just chatting with this cutie. Wondering if I could walk her home today.” He flashed you a grin accompanied with a wink. Your face hot as you avoided MJ’s growing smirk.

“Hey, you can walk with us- were all having a movie night at Peter’s if you want to come along?” Brad’s face seemed to light up at the suggestion,

“Woah, hey seriously? That’d be awesome! Well, if it’s cool with you guys? You sure Peter won’t mind?” his brows furrowed in worry.

“Of course not! Pete’s a chill dude, he won’t care at all.”

----

“Can someone explain to me why the hell Brad Davis is walking behind us with our y/n?” Peter couldn’t keep the venomous words from leaving his mouth the second they were far enough from the pair behind them.

MJ chuckled at his frustration as Ned watched with curious eyes as to why his friend was so pressed.

“Would you relax, he just wants to be near Y/n because he likes her.” MJ bumps Peter in the shoulder with her own, making him stumble a bit with a grunt.

“Ok but why y/n?” He mumbles

“Woah-” Ned gasps in shock to Peter’s words

“No, no- I didn’t mean-”

“Peter, you have no right saying what y/n can and cannot do and in who she talks to.” MJ could’ve caused physical pain to that boy with the glare she was giving him. Peter grumbled to himself- knowing his crush was right. The thought of y/n and Brad flirting didn’t sit well with him.

“Wait- so Brad is having a movie night with us?” Ned peered behind them to see Brad poking his finger towards y/n’s side making her burst in giggles and attempt to push Brad's fingers away.

“No”

“Yes”

MJ and Peter share a glance. The curly haired brunette squints, “what was that, Peter?” Challenging him to repeat his statement.

“God, fine.” It comes out as a Scoff. He just wanted to get home so he could set his plan in motion. He could already tell MJ was beginning to grow annoyed with him already.

——

“Shh- Brad, you c-can’t say stuff like that!” Your sweet laughter started to get on Peter’s nerves. His knuckles white as he unlocks the door and pushes in.

What the hell is so funny? Of course this plan is going to be ruined with them constantly giggling and flirting-

“Yo- Pete! Is it chill if I use your bathroom?” Brad's voice reaches Peter as he slings his backpack next to the door, just the thought of Brad staying at his apartment, eating his snacks and flirting with his y/n- he stops himself, he must be getting too protective over his friends.

“It’s fine-“ he mutters before hearing a door close in the direction of his bathroom, Peter crouches to the movie cabinet, scanning every CD for hopefully a star wars movie, “finally some peace and quiet around here-“

“You ok Pete?” Your soft voice startled him- his head spins to his right- meeting your soft gaze.

“Y-yeah it’s all good.” Hoping she didn’t hear his relief of Brad's absence.

“Are you sure? You seem really tense,” Peter couldn’t find an excuse, looking around for one until his eyes landed on MJ laughing about something with Ned. Y/n noticed, “oh… is it because of MJ?” Her mood drained, all that talking with Brad distracted her from why she really didn’t want to go over for movie night.

MJ….

That has to be it- yeah, that’s why he’s irritated. He doesn’t want things to go wrong with MJ.

He nods slightly. Y/n lips part, words she’s been itching to say about to leave her mouth before-

“Hey, y/n! Check out this puppy wearing a lion costume!” Brad was holding up his phone in your direction. You glanced back then smiled at Peter and turned towards Brad. You smiled as the video played, a little smiling pout rested on your lips, Brad gazed at you- one would call them heart eyes, Peter would call it disgusting. Brad looked at Peter and winked.

God this guy is insufferable.

———-

30 minutes into Back to Future, Peter unwillingly agreed to watch after a stern glare from Ned, and Brad was quite cuddled up to y/n. Peter had no idea why he was acting the way he was, he just didn’t trust Brad to take care of her and treat her right, he seemed like a player to Peter. Peter shook the negative thoughts out of his head before deciding that he should now start setting his plan into motion.

“Anyone want a drink?” Peter stood, straightening out his jeans.

“Yeah I’d like one,” Brad nodded, still watching TV, then shifted his eye’s to Y/n, “ What about you, Y/n?” You looked up at Brad and smiled, a small nod. Peter could all but roll his eyes.

“Ned? MJ?” His eyes silently pleading that his crush says yes. Ned nods, MJ contemplates then shrugs.

Peter nearly runs to the kitchen, pulling out the glowing vile from his pocket. Setting out 4 cups, pouring in some kool-aid he made earlier in the morning. Slowly he lifts the pitcher, filling 3 cups generously except for the fourth one. He pops open the tube with the chemical, remembering distinctly what Mr. Strange had told him.

Absolutely no more than 3 drops. Any more than 3 drops and we’ll have some serious problems. Do I make myself clear?

“Just 3. No more than 3, you got this Peter.” Peter focused intently on the tube, watching as the liquid dripped…

One…

Two…

Thre-

“Yo! Peter! You good with those drinks?”

Four-five-six….

Peter could’ve screamed. He could’ve ripped his hair out. But there he stood with his jaw on the floor, with a cup full of, not 3 but 6, drops of the enchantment. Brad came strolling in, grabbing the infected drink and a clean one-

“WAIT BRAD- DONT!” Peter nearly trampled the guy- making Brad jolt and spill some of the drink in his shirt.

“Jesus Peter! What the hell is your problem??” Brad set the cups down on the small table in the living room with the girls as he made his way to the restroom.

“What happened?” MJ was about to get out of her seat to check out the noise.

“N-nothing! Nothing!” Peter peered at his friends, meeting with concerned eyes, ”It’s all good! Brad just uh- he spilled some of the drink on his shirt- Hey Ned I need assistance-“ Peter spoke through his teeth, attempting to reassure the girls. Ned looked around confused as well as the two girls sharing perplexed glances.

“Code Death Star” he harshly whispered-

Bed shot up out of his seat and rushed with Peter to the kitchen.

“What happened???” Ned whispers while he avoided the puddle of kool aid on the floor.

“Brad happened! I was just putting in the drops like Mr.Strange told me, then Brad scared me and 6 drops slipped in-“

“6 drops?!??” Ned was quickly muted by Peter's hand slapping over his mouth.

“Shhh keep it down, dude-“

Ned rips Peter's hand off, “Dude we have no idea what that could do! What if she pukes for the rest of her life?? What if it does the exact opposite of making her like you?? What if she dies-“

“I don’t know what it could do! We just need to make sure that no one touches that drink!” Peter then sees from his peripheral vision, his spider senses going haywire, a Y/n stuck with a grimace on her face.

A red cup in her hand.

No… nonononononono- don’t tell me-

“ No offense Peter, but this shits disgusting- tastes like medicine if you ask me.” You gag lightly, “god- it’s got a horrible aftertaste too- I swear you’re out to kill me Peter” you giggle. Walking past them and throwing out the cup.

Peter found this anything but funny- Neds eyes went wide- absolute shock ran through both of the boys.

“What? Is there something on my face?” You began rubbing your cheeks and your lips. The boys staying stoic, “guys…?” You began getting worried.

“H-how much did you drink?” Peter's voice is 6 octaves higher, taking slow cautious steps towards you.

“I- I chugged it-“ Peter then grips your wrist and as if the whole world stopped, you could only see Peter. Your feelings increase ten fold. suddenly you feel absolutely dizzy. Your legs tremble at the sheer touch of his hand on your wrist, he’s tugging you towards his room and your head keeps spinning, you place your hand onto the wall for balance before being dragged once again. Your blurry vision sees Brad barely exit the restroom wiping his shirt- then glancing at you- eyebrows furrowed.

You shut your eyes tightly, hoping it helps with your focus, blinking rapidly. Your body grows hot- like you’re running a fever, but your feet and hands are freezing. You can hardly hear anything as Peter's distant voice soothes you, probably telling you to sit on his bed. You started falling into a state of drowsy sleep despite his voice sounding distressed.

You pass out.

“Shit! Shit shit shit shit!” Peter was Whimpering and shaking your shoulders, pulling your eyelids open only to see the white of your eyes, iris rolled back, “oh god, please wake up Y/n! I need you awake!” Peter's heart was in absolute anguish, he felt a deep hole in his chest, he couldn’t breath.

Panic attack.

Ok, ok fuck- Ohmygod is she dead??? This was a mistake, god what the fuck did I do??? Fuck fuck fuck ok ok you need to calm down- what the hell am I having a panic attack right now??? ok ok 3 things- what can I see? Uh ok ok….

Peter glanced down at your unconscious body and started taking deep breaths.

Ok ok I can see y/n’s…. smooth skin- uh I can… I can- I can see her favorite hair tie, I can see uh… her star wars shirt… ok good ok uh 3 things I can feel-

He grasped her limp hand. His breaths are already regulating.

I can feel her hand- a-and her pulse! Oh thank god I can feel her pulse….her bracelet.

Ok and I can hear her breathing! I can hear cars outside, I can hear the movie from the living room.

His heart rate goes down significantly. He’s at ease now. Ned barges in, startling Peter. About to speak before his eyes stop dead on an unconscious girl on Peter's bed.

“Is she dead?!?”

“No! No she’s ok! She’s just passed out!” Peter couldn’t bring himself to move from you- your hand still grasped tightly in his. He felt absolutely horrible, he’d never forgive himself for this. He only prayed that you woke up soon.

“What’s going on?'' Brad's voice in the hallway, Peter runs to his door, holding it close to his body to stop Brad from looking inside.

“Nothing Brad, mind your business-“

“No Peter! I don’t know what the fuck your problem is with me, but all I know is that you’re a sketchy little dude with some serious problems- Now I saw y/n and she didn’t look well- let me see her.” Brad attempted pushing open the door but Peter kept his grip on the door. His spider strength came quite in handy.

“She's fine dude- she wasn’t feeling well so I took her to my room so she could rest!” Brad only glared down at Peter. His deathly stare was nearly intimidating but Peter wouldn’t cave,” I think you should go home.” Peter didn’t even try to hide the venomous tone this time. Brad was really getting on his nerves.

“You’re up to something. Hiding things. And I’m sure that whatever it is you’re hiding,” Brad nods his head, signaling to you behind Peter, “you don’t want her finding out.” Brad slowly walks backwards, eyes never leaving Peter, “I’m on to you, Parker.” And with that Brad turned around and left the apartment, slamming the door.

He sighed in relief, turning around to his best friend.

“So now what?”

————————————————————

aaaannnnnnnndddddd THAT’S part 2 errybody! Thanks for the love and support and I’ll do my best to get part 3 up sooner!

taglist: @itscaminow @halparkebitch @missmulti @everyoneyoulovedies @le-yona @universeoffandoms @writeroutoftime @bluelida @yourbiggestspiderfan @marvel-moviesfan @zoerosethoughts @songbirdsingingthings @phrogtheguitarist @sophs-library @awesomebooklover17 @horanxholland @mystoragehatesme e @spideygirl2003

also lmk if the taglist is working :)

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hysterialevi · 3 years

Text

Hjarta | Chapter 11

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

A WHILE LATER

BJORNHEIMR, THE LONGHOUSE

Pain. That was all he could see.

As Sigurd walked side-by-side with Ulfar through the longhouse’s doors, he heard nothing but the agonized groans of fallen warriors, and the devastated cries of survivors who were now mourning their loved ones.

The horrid stench of smoke and death clung stubbornly onto the wooden walls, and with so many fresh corpses now littering the village, they had what looked like a battlefield sitting on their very doorstep.

It was a nightmare come to life. Even though Sigurd was no stranger to the morbidity of war -- he had grown up in the midst of one, after all -- it was still enough to make his stomach churn, and his heart ache.

How could this have happened? And during such a joyous event as well? Today was meant to be a day for their clans to celebrate; to enjoy themselves. But instead, they were now taking shelter in the longhouse, and being forced to isolate themselves from the mayhem that lurked outside.

It looked like Muspelheim itself had razed Bjornheimr’s streets, and frankly, Sigurd didn’t know how they were going to recover from this.

“Poor woman...” Ulfar said, gazing in Ingrida’s direction. At the moment, the seeress was holding Eirik’s body in her arms and gently stroking his forehead, comforting him as if he had contracted a simple ailment. Not a single word was being uttered from her lips, and yet, the lifelessness of her expression was enough to say everything.

“No parent should have to lose their child,” Ulfar remarked, his voice heavy with sorrow. “I can’t imagine what that woman is going through right now.”

The prince followed his line of sight. “What happened to Eirik? How did he die?”

“I have no idea. He approached me and Eivor at the temple just before the assault was launched... with three arrows in his back. He wanted me to tell Ingrida something, but... he slipped away before he could get the words out.”

The older man’s brow crinkled with anger. “Those bastards. Kjotve’s men didn’t even have the honor of giving Eirik a warrior’s death. They shot him down like a dog.”

Sigurd sighed in frustration, crossing his arms in a stern manner. “...How did this even happen? You and I spent so much time planning the defenses of this village. We cleared the forest of Kjotve’s camps. How is it that his people overwhelmed us so easily?”

Ulfar’s eyes narrowed with skepticism. “I have the same question. It’s possible that Kjotve’s been planning this for a while, but... still. I’d be lying if I said the efficiency of this attack wasn’t suspicious.”

Bringing their conversation to a halt, a nearby series of footsteps suddenly made its way into the building, drawing both the men’s attention to the doorway.

In the distance, Sigurd saw Eivor dragging himself into the longhouse with his father’s axe in hand, still as bleak as before. His head sank with a profound sense of melancholy, and his feet lingered behind him in a manner that made it seem as if chains holding him down.

At first, the prince expected Eivor to say something to Ulfar upon entry, but instead, he simply drifted past the two of them without a single word, and headed out into the training yard adjacent to the longhouse.

“...Do you think he’ll be alright?” Sigurd asked, watching as the man slipped away.

Ulfar shrugged. “I cannot say. Eivor has always been strong, but even the strongest of men have their weaknesses. Kjotve has caused him much pain ever since he was a child. It will take him time to recover from this battle.”

The prince’s voice softened at the thought of a recent memory. “...Eivor told me about his parents a while ago, you know. About how Kjotve killed them.”

“Then you understand the gravity of what happened today. Kjotve trying to kill Eivor in the same way he murdered Varin -- it’s an insult deserving of an axe to the chest. I’ll be surprised if the boy lets this go.”

Sigurd paused for a moment, allowing the realization to settle in. “...Eivor nearly gave up Valhalla in exchange for my survival. He was willing to die without a fight... just to ensure that I lived.”

Ulfar nodded, recalling his conversation with Eivor all those years ago. “Yes. Because in the end, you were more important to him than anything Valhalla could’ve offered. He spent the past thirteen years dreaming of the day he’d finally get revenge, and he sacrificed it for you. I hope you understand that, Sigurd.”

“Of course. I owe him my life.”

“Indeed.”

Sigurd decided to follow Eivor and began making his way out of the longhouse, hoping to catch the young man before he disappeared.

“Wait here,” he told Ulfar. “I’ll go speak with him. I want to see how he’s doing.”

“Hold a moment.” The raider said, stopping Sigurd in his tracks.

“Yes? What is it?”

The older man fell silent for a second, pondering how to broach the subject.

“Before you go, Sigurd, there’s something else you should be aware of.” Ulfar lowered his voice, ensuring that no one else could hear him. “...I know about your relationship with Eivor.”

Sigurd’s heart skipped a beat, and the color drained from his face. “You-- what?”

“Eivor confided in me during the wedding,” Ulfar explained. “He had quite a lot on his mind, and was willing to tell me about your affair. Have no fear, though. I won’t expose your secret. He entrusted me with this matter, and I have no intentions of betraying that trust. However, there is something I need to make clear.”

The prince listened intently, worried about where this was going. “...Alright, then. Speak your mind.”

The raider crossed his arms. “It pains me to separate Eivor from someone who makes him happy, but for the sake of this alliance, I must insist that you keep things at a platonic level if you wish to console him. I realize it’s not always that easy, but our clans need each other to win this war. If your marriage with Randvi falls apart, so does our bond.”

Sigurd took his words to heart, regardless of how reluctant he may have been to accept reality.

“I understand, Ulfar. You have nothing to fear. I wouldn’t jeopardize this marriage.”

Ulfar didn’t look entirely convinced. “I hope so. You have my trust for now, Sigurd, but just remember -- I don’t give it blindly.” He turned away from the prince, dismissing him with a wave of the hand. “Anyway, go and see Eivor. I imagine he’s somewhere in the training yard. If the two of you wish to join me later, I’ll be speaking with the jarl and your father in the war room. We have much to discuss.”

“I will.”

“Look after that boy, Sigurd,” Ulfar said, striding to the front of the longhouse. “He cares about you more than you realize.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE TRAINING YARD

Stepping back out into the open, Sigurd welcomed himself into the deserted training yard as he scanned the area for Eivor, admittedly reluctant to wander through the aftermath of the recent battle. The thick scent of smoke and ash immediately smacked him across the face once he was outside, and even now, he could still feel the heat of the raging fires consuming their entire village.

He imagined Eivor’s state of mind must’ve been dire, if he was willing to take solace in an environment like this. Bjornheimr was hardly recognizable after the chaos Kjotve wreaked, and yet, the young man found it preferable to staying within the confines of the longhouse.

Sigurd supposed it was understandable, considering his exchange with the enemy. Kjotve could’ve cut Eivor down in the midst of a proper holmgang, but instead, he decided to do something worse. He took away his honor.

He degraded the Wolf-Kissed with the same impossible dilemma he once thrust upon Varin, and now, the nightmare would only haunt Eivor again. The gods would know of his swift surrender and declare it as an action of cowardice, and he would likely receive judgement from his fellow clan members.

In Sigurd’s eyes though, the man was a hero. He sacrificed one of the greatest honors known to Midgard in exchange for his family’s safety, and he did so with barely any hesitation. He displayed more courage than Sigurd had ever seen from anyone else in his life, and yet, he would have to reclaim his honor simply because he was willing to put down his axe.

It was a series of events laden with unfairness in Sigurd’s opinion, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to change it nonetheless.

Roaming closer to the training yard, Sigurd’s head perked up in interest when the sound of metal scraping against wood suddenly reached his ears, drawing his focus to a nearby tree. There, he saw Eivor himself fervently slashing his axe against the trunk, letting out occasional shouts of anger.

His movements were erratic and driven by rage, and at certain points, the prince even feared he might chop down the whole tree. Eivor seemed to be trapped in a tempest of fury that Sigurd had never witnessed in the past, and frankly, he was concerned about the man’s well-being.

“Eivor?” He called out. The younger man swung his axe one more time before coming to a halt, giving Sigurd no more than a brief glance.

“...What?” He replied sharply, speaking through rapid breaths.

The prince approached his friend, careful not to provoke him any further.

“I don’t mean to disturb you,” he said gently, “but... I was worried. You disappeared from the longhouse so quick. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Eivor turned around, revealing the glower that had been branded into his face.

“How do you think I’m doing?” He snapped, lodging the weapon’s blade into the wood. “The gods granted me the chance to kill Kjotve after thirteen years... and I wasted it! He was right there. He was right in front of me. I could’ve done something -- anything! Even if it killed me, it would’ve been better than surrendering!”

He stormed away from the tree and began pacing around the yard, attempting to recompose himself.

“By Odin, I’m such an idiot. I’ve spent my entire life preparing for this moment. Waiting for it. I’ve endured countless days of training, planning -- everything you can think of. I’ve placed offer after offer at the feet of the gods, just begging them for the chance to bury my axe in Kjotve’s chest. And what do I do when they finally give it to me?” Eivor kicked a rock resting by his feet. “I walk away.”

Sigurd gazed at the man in sympathy, wishing he could comfort him somehow.

“Don’t be so quick to dismiss yourself, Eivor. You may have let Kjotve slip from your grasp for now, but remember why you did it. You did it to save your family. You did it to save me. I... I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t shown up. I owe you my life.”

Eivor plopped himself on the ground and sat against the longhouse’s walls, staring upwards at the smoke-riddled sky.

“Perhaps I should be proud of myself, then,” he said, “but I’m not. If anything, I just feel like a fool. I feel like... like I’ve failed my father. Like I’ve wasted everything he did for me.”

Sigurd took a seat next to the Wolf-Kissed, allowing his feet to rest for the moment. “You’re too hard on yourself, drengr. Your father would understand. He was once in the same position as you, after all. Not only that, but he also made the same choice. He would be proud of your sacrifice.”

Contrary to what the older man expected, Eivor only seemed to grow more bitter.

“I guess. But-- why are you even here? I thought you’d be in the longhouse, looking after the villagers with Randvi. What are you doing out here talking to me?”

“Randvi has her own duties to take care of, and so do I. But I wanted to see you first. Just because I’m married now doesn’t mean I don’t care about you anymore, Eivor.”

The man shook his head. “Well, you shouldn’t. You can’t afford to care about me, Sigurd. You have a wife now. A future queen. She’s the one you need to be focused on. Not me.”

Sigurd was admittedly taken aback by the coldness in his tone, but brushed it off nonetheless. He knew Eivor was hurting at the moment, and it felt wrong for him to hold that against him.

“Eivor...” he said softly, “listen to me. Kjotve may have escaped from our grasp today, but we are not letting him go. Ulfar is devising a plan in the war room as we speak. We will find him again. You will get your chance.”

The young man sighed out of exhaustion, causing his shoulders to slouch. “...I hope so. I’ve fought too hard for this war to end now. I can’t let Kjotve get away. Not when I’m so close. I just pray that the gods will deem me worthy of a second chance.”

Sigurd gave him a reassuring nod. “They will. This fight isn’t over yet, Eivor. In fact, it’s hardly begun. We haven’t seen the last of Kjotve. I know it.”

Eivor dragged a hand down his face and drifted off into silence, staring at the clouds of smoke forming in the distance. By now, they had completely blotted out the sapphire embrace of the sky above, and darkened the land beneath with a looming shadow.

Particles of ash fluttered through the air like autumn leaves twirling in the wind, and in the distance, Eivor saw nothing but a shroud of fire obscuring the horizon beyond.

As for the man himself, he seemed to have calmed down somewhat compared to when Sigurd first arrived. A glimmer of hope had returned to the blankness of his empty gaze, but a grim veil of despair still clung onto his expression. He had lost every shred of the motivation that once fueled him, and even now, the pain of losing a loved one to an arranged marriage continued to pester him.

“...Kjotve ruined my life that night, you know.” Eivor said, devoid of any emotion. “He took away my family, my home -- everything that I loved. The only life I ever knew was stolen from me in an instant, and the whole world shifted into something that I no longer recognized.” The young man peered at his companion, still leaning against the wall. “...He must die, Sigurd. Not just for me, but for everyone he’s hurt.”

The prince rested an elbow on his knee. “Kjotve’s judgement will come. The gods know of his cruelty just as we do. The Nornir will cut his thread soon enough.”

“Then let’s pray that I live long enough to witness that day.”

Taking a second to gather himself, Eivor broke free from the cage barring his mind for just a moment and looked Sigurd in the eye, returning to the same man the prince knew so well.

“...Anyway. Thank you for coming to check on me, Sigurd.” He whispered. “I appreciate it. I apologize if I was somewhat... harsh earlier. I’m just so lost right now.”

Sigurd wasn’t bothered. “I understand. We all have a breaking point. Even you. What’s important is that you don’t let it hold you down forever.”

“I know,” he acknowledged. “But sometimes, the temptation to give up is almost irresistible. The idea of being able to forget about all this, and live my life without fear or conflict -- it’s something that grows more alluring by the day. But I know I can’t let myself fall prey to these thoughts. I need to stay focused. I need to keep fighting. Even if it leads me into the Valkyries’ arms.”

Sigurd leaned closer to Eivor and placed a hand over his, mindlessly stroking it as if it were second nature.

“Well, wherever this path takes us, just remember that I’m here for you. You’ve saved my life multiple times already. It’s the least I can do.”

Suddenly realizing what he was doing, the prince came to an abrupt pause and instantly retreated his hand, silently cursing himself for not putting a leash on his affections. He backed away from Eivor and averted his eyes, stumbling over his next words.

“...F-Forgive me. I didn’t mean to--”

“--It’s alright.” Eivor interrupted. “You don’t have to explain.”

A deep sigh escaped Sigurd’s lips. “I just don’t understand why it’s so difficult to ignore the way I feel. I’m a married man now. Shouldn’t that be enough to hinder my fondness for you? Why does this always happen?”

The younger man offered some advice. “The best thing you can do right now, Sigurd, is to avoid me entirely. We both know how challenging it is to conceal our true thoughts. Perhaps we shouldn’t give them the chance to cross our minds at all.”

“But I can’t just pretend like you don’t exist. I still want you in my life, Eivor. I still want to be near you. We may not have the option of being together like before, but you’re not somebody I want to forget.”

Eivor’s face dimmed with sorrow. “Well, you may have to. For the sake of this alliance. Things are precarious enough as it is. We can’t risk anyone else finding out about our previous encounters.”

Sigurd disagreed. “You’re important to me. Nothing’s going to change that, no matter how much I may have to restrain myself. I just wish things were easier.”

The older man decided to put this conversation to an early end and rose from the ground, not wanting to let his emotions fester any longer.

“Anyway... I should get going. I imagine Ulfar’s still speaking with the jarl, and I’d like to join him. Do you want to come with me?”

Eivor refused the offer. “I’d rather be alone right now. I’ve had enough of discussing war and politics for one day.”

“Of course, I understand. You must be exhausted. Take this time to get some rest. I’ll tell you the outcome of our discussions later.” Sigurd took a few steps away from the Wolf-Kissed, leaving him alone on the ground. “Well then, I guess I’ll see you around, Eivor. Please, stay safe. Now that we know Kjotve is merely a stone’s throw away from Bjornheimr, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

The young man remained seated on the grass. “The same goes for you, Sigurd. Be careful out there. You’re the last person I want to lose.”

“Oh, believe me,” Sigurd replied, “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

#hjarta #assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #sigurd styrbjornson #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfsmal #eivor varinsson #male eivor #sigurd x male eivor #ac valhalla fanfic

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sanjisock · 3 years

Text

puddles

ao3

i. arlong park

It does not take long for Sanji to learn that Zoro is a man who does not do things in halves.

He watches in fascination as Zoro faces Mihawk without a single moment’s of hesitation — cut in half, bleeding all over the deck, but his sword stays true still. Zoro dreams, not of being a great swordsman, but of being the greatest; either you are, or you are not.

Sanji can understand that. It is not quite different from his own, if you look at it in the right ways — you either believe in the All Blue, or you don’t. It either exists, or it doesn’t. You can’t bargain with faith.

But Sanji isn’t the same kid with the iron mask all those years ago who had nothing to lose; he has Zeff now, and a debt as heavy as a lost limb that he could never even begin to repay. He knows how much a dream can cost. He knows how much love — true love, the kind with complete and utter devotion — can cost.

Cocoyashi Village is in celebration, and Sanji finds himself tucked into a corner of the party together with Zoro, somehow untouched by the cacophony. They’re still sizing each other up, barely knowing one another past a fight and a promise to a captain. But Zoro has trusted him easily in that very fight, and right now there’s a spark in the air between them, something not entirely different from attraction .

Zoro takes a large gulp from his bottle and gestures back at the ship. “You coming?”

This could be something , Sanji thinks. Wants to try, if he’s being honest.

But Zoro is a man who does not do things in halves — he is not a man who tries . If Sanji takes the leap, this is it — they either are, or they aren’t. And if they aren’t — Sanji isn’t sure a crew as small and as tight-knitted as the Straw Hats can handle a break up, especially so early on in their journey.

(Sanji isn’t sure a heart as weak as his can handle a break up).

“I’ll catch up later,” he shrugs, scrambling for an excuse. He suddenly feels like he’s ten again, terrified and running away. “Been wanting to check out this one recipe from that guy over there.”

“If you say so,” Zoro takes the dismissal in stride, and dumps the empty sake bottle into a barrel as he stands up to leave.

Sanji watches him disappear into the night.

ii. enies lobby

The Mosshead has been giving him the nastiest look ever since the ship sailed away from Water Seven, so Sanji isn’t particularly surprised when Zoro stops him on his track on the way to Usopp’s workshop.

Zoro eyes the colorful drink on the tray in Sanji’s hand like it’s challenged him into a duel, before finally grunting, “you need to stop treating Usopp like that.”

Sanji’s eyes unwittingly follow Zoro’s gaze on the drink he made for Usopp — it has five colors, three different fruits, and a whip cream on top. Entirely too flashy for the male crewmembers, usually reserved for important occasions. Sanji feigns obliviousness, still. “Like what?”

“Like he’s going to break anytime soon,” Zoro says.

“You mean nicely ?” Sanji snarls back. “Like a normal human being? Not everyone is like you, Marimo. Some people have emotions. ”

“It’s insulting , is what it is,” Zoro retorts, his whole body leaning into Sanji’s personal space, like a challenge. “There’s never a need for you to coddle him. Usopp made his decisions as a man back then, and he had to learn the consequences for it — ”

“And he has learned , Zoro,” Sanji cuts in, feeling exhausted all of a sudden, the fight leaving his body in a snap. He sighs. “Look — I get that it’s your thing, protecting our pride as a crew and all. I was on your side, remember? But it’s all in the past, and Usopp’s got your message, loud and clear.”

Sanji thinks of a little boy with the iron mask, who were forced to learn all his lessons the hard way; and what comes out next is, “I’m the cook of this ship. Let me feed him.”

Let me take care of him , he doesn’t say, but it means pretty much the same thing.

There must’ve been something in his voice, because Zoro seems taken aback; all the tension bleeds out from his shoulders, and he’s now looking at Sanji with an unreadable expression.

There’s a moment of silence, stretched long enough to the point of awkwardness, before Zoro says, “ — didn’t mean to. I mean — quite a lot of shit went down, just didn’t wanna see you — don’t overexert yourself.”

Sanji blinks. “What are you saying .”

“All this talk about taking care of people,” Zoro says, hand rubbing the back of his neck in a rare display of — what? Embarrassment ? “Why wouldn’t you let me —”

Zoro pauses there, sentence trailing off into nothing; but Sanji has always been good at reading Zoro, and he hears the words anyway.

Why wouldn’t you let me take care of you .

Sanji thinks of the party in Cocoyashi, and then hundreds of moments after that — quiet moments in the galley when Zoro helped him wash up the dishes, playful banters that Zoro could only keep up with. Countless enemies they fight side by side, together, the way he feels his heart beat in sync with Zoro’s from across the battlefield.

“Cook —” Zoro puts his hand on Sanji’s shoulder then, and the touch burns , like an electric shock; it jolts Sanji back from his thoughts, a reminder of the reality between them, the way they would fight as hard as they love, and what would that leave him, in the aftermath?

“Let me go ,” Sanji says before he can stop himself, and practically runs to Usopp’s workshop.

iii. thriller bark

“You’re a dumbass ,” Sanji says.

“Hn,” Zoro says, not arguing for once.

“I’ve always known you have moss for brains,” Sanji continues, fully aware he’s rambling but unable to stop himself, “but who would’ve thought you’d be this dumb. What kind of complete and utter idiot would be so fucking reckless against a warlord for the second time in his life.”

Zoro hums noncommittally.

Sanji tightens the bandage across his torso with a little more force than necessary.

Zoro makes a pained grunt, and Sanji winces at the sound; they’ve roughhoused each other countless of times before, but this is the first time Zoro can’t take something Sanji dished. It shouldn’t be surprising though, not after the wounds he has taken from Bartholomew Kuma —

“You need to learn to pick your battles,” Sanji rambles on, because he’s suddenly hit with the realization that if he stops talking he might actually cry . “Or at least employ some strategies. Ever heard of those? That’s what people with brains usually do when they fight instead of simply waving some pointy sticks against the enemy. Raise your hand a bit —” he moves to the wound on Zoro’s arm, taking greater care to make sure he’s as gentle as possible, a silent apology for the earlier mishap. “Right there. Yeah. Anyways, I was saying —”

“Sanji,” Zoro says, and Sanji stops.

It’s so unfamiliar — the way Sanji’s name rolls off Zoro’s tongue, shaped by his deep voice. It sends a shiver down his spine, Sanji’s heart suddenly rattling against his ribcage.

When he looks up, Zoro is staring back at him with half-lidded eyes, something other than pain marring his gaze.

Longing .

Sanji feels his throat dry all of a sudden.

“Sanji,” Zoro says, voice low and rasp, but steady. And then: “stay.”

Sanji drops the bandages in his hands. He can’t do this — not when he’s staring at the very reminder of what it would cost . The idea of losing Zoro, as a nakama , has already torn him from the inside; he can’t imagine what it’s like to see Zoro’s lifeless body on the infirmary bed, as a lover.

He remembers standing in front of her mother’s grave, feeling like he’s coming apart at the seams, and wanting to tear up the stitches; wishing he could just unravel after so much hurt .

“Zoro,” he says, feeling like he’s on the verge of a panic attack, “I — I can’t —”

But when he dares himself to finally meet Zoro’s eyes, the Swordsman has lost consciousness again.

Sanji flees the infirmary.

iv. zou

He flips BIg Mom’s invitation to the tea party over and over again, staring at the words etched on the paper.

Groom: Third Son of the Vinsmokes, Sanji.

The words settle unpleasantly in his gut, and he swallows, trying to calm himself down. He’s no longer the same weak kid with the iron mask; he’s now a Straw Hat, and he’s going to settle his issues with his pathetic excuse of a family once and for all.

That’s all.

...so why does it feel like this isn’t going to end well with Zoro?

Thoughts of the Shitty Swordsman appear in his mind, unbidden. A scowl, definitely — maybe a few scathing words to accompany the look. Something about Sanji and his self-sacrificial tendencies — as if Zoro has any right to lecture anyone about that — or maybe some diatribe about trusting the crew to take care of one of their own.

Which is not what this is about, at all. Of course Sanji trusts everyone in the crew — trusts Luffy to be able to take care of himself. But this is his problem, and he’s the only one responsible to fix it. There’s no need to trouble everyone with a little family problems.

(So why does it still feel like he’s running away?)

v. whole cake island

“First of all, the captain of my own ship came all this way to track me down,” he says, raising a finger for emphasis, “only for me to insult and hurt him to the best of my ability despite no resistance from him whatsoever. That means I cannot go back to your ship right now.”

Run , he remembers being ten, hearing Reiju’s voice through the prison bars. There is no turning back. Your mistakes are final.

“Second of all,” he continues, “the shitty geezer who saved my life and the home where I was raised are being held hostage in case I don’t play along. That means I cannot escape from this wedding.”

Run , he remembers thinking every time he catches sight of Zeff’s leg. This is the cost of your dream. This is the cost of your love.

“Third of all,” he says, voice rising even higher, “the evil family to which I’m related to is walking into Big Mom’s trap, and they’ll all be slaughtered in a matter of hours. They’re scum of the earth to whom I owe nothing but my hatred but I cannot bring myself to abandon them to their fate and run away!”

Run , he tells himself. Your love worths nothing. You are not worth anyone’s love.

“For these three reason,” he says, eyes avoiding Luffy’s. “I cannot return with the rest of you.”

There’s a bright sunburst of pain against his cheek, and the momentum of the punch throws him against a tree bark, shattering under the impact.

“Tell me how you really feel ,” Luffy yells. “What do you want, Sanji?”

For the first time in his life, Sanji stops running.

(i. wano)

Sanji didn’t notice at first, with all the flurry and chaos of the fight against Kaido; but once things have settled down, it occurs to him that Wano is a spring island.

The air is tinged with the kind of heat that barely tips over to unpleasant, uncomfortable without the unbearable fever of summer. Even the nights are wearily humid, which is why he decided to stray away from the celebration feast into the forest, and finds Zoro training alone, swinging his new sword against the wind.

They have not had a moment to themselves ever since — ever since . All of their conversations have mostly been in the heat of the battle, and Sanji isn’t quite sure if they simply did not have the time, or if Zoro has been avoiding him.

It doesn’t matter — here they are, gravitating towards each other still. As if fate herself has weaved a path for them, time and again.

He thinks he can still hear Luffy asking, in the rain: what do you want, Sanji?

“Zoro,” he says, and faces him, head on. “I am in love with you.”

He thinks Zoro would’ve been surprised, once upon a time; maybe if Sanji dared to say it under the Alabasta moonlight, or bathed by the campfire light in the Sky Islands; but now, it feels superfluous, almost redundant. It is no longer the truth that matters between them.

Zoro finally turns to meet his eyes, and sheathes his sword into its scabbard. “What do you want, Cook?”

The same question, again. He’s been running away for so long, he’s forgotten what truly matters, before the risks and the tragedies and the costs . What he truly wants .

The answer to that has always been simple.

“I want us, Zoro. Together. In whichever way you’ll have me.”

Zoro walks up and stops, right in front of Sanji. “You have me ,” he says. “You’ve always had me. It’s you who’s always —” Zoro pauses, gritting his teeth, frustration written all over his face.

“I know,” Sanji says, heartbeat rising up his throat, his ears, his mouth. “Zoro, I —”

“I need to know ,” Zoro says, hand a hair’s breadth away from Sanji’s own, but not quite touching. “I need to know if you will keep running away from me or not.”

Sanji takes the offered hand and closes the distance between them.

It is a short kiss at first, only a cling of lips — and then he feels Zoro’s free hand drifting up to cradle his face as Zoro leans in for another kiss, and another, little dips of kisses, as if Zoro needed the constant reassurance that Sanji is here, with him. And Sanji can give him that, owe him that much — he breathes into the kiss, chases Zoro’s lips and mouths at the curve of his smile.

“This is it, right?” Zoro says when they part, forehead still pressed against one another’s. “Because this is it for me, Cook.”

Sanji thinks of Zoro, who doesn’t do things in halves. Either they are, or they aren’t. And for once he realizes — not the fear or the risk, but how much of an honor it is, to be loved by this man. Entirely and all-consuming.

“This is it,” he tells Zoro, and squeezes Zoro’s hand. “No more running away.”

#opfanfic #zosan #roronoa zoro #sanji #one piece

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40sbarnes · 4 years

Text

Medici: Spymasters of Florence

Chapter 19: Link In A Chain

second last chapter im- thank you to everyone who has stayed all this time, i see you all and ily <3

tw mentions of abuse in this chapter, pls stay safe <3

pairings; slowburn (yeah) lorenzo x reader, platonic ;((((( (at least in this story) francesco x reader

tag list; @brynthebulldozer @mythicalamphitrite @nana035 @valravnsraven @hannahhistorian92 @not-thatweird @isaac-lahey-is-bae @angrygardendeer @unstoppable-xavi @johnbolton @voidmalfoy

Jacopo flinched backwards as your saliva splattered across his face. His hand was quick to wipe it away, but the rest of him had yet to move, still in shock.

"That was a bad move, Bellondini," he shook his head, dragging his hand down his face before shaking it harshly to the side. Your eyes darted to his fingers as they balled into a fist, and for once you agreed with the older Pazzi. Your rage had gotten the best of you, and you hadn't considered the consequences before you spat at him.

You prepared yourself for what came next, although it never did. The door creaked open and both of you turned to face it, to see Francesco to your rescue once again.

He glanced between you both before clearing his throat. "We have a visitor," he addressed his uncle.

"Your luck will run out soon," Jacopo turned to you as he made the promise.

You didn't risk replying, your eyes desperately following Francesco as he left without looking your way. The door clicked closed, and you hung your head in frustration. Slowly, you realised you heard the door close, but no lock. You hadn't heard a lock once. You glanced at it to see there wasn't even one on the door. Your heart sped up at the thought, and you pulled against your chains. You shuffled, trying to get to a point where you could see your restraints, but they didn't give much pull.

Throwing your head over your shoulder, you glanced up at the pillar you were tied to, not much to work with. You moved on to trying to contort your hand enough to slip through the chains, but your thumb hit the links every time. If only it wasn't there. If only you could move it out of the way.

You tried to swallow the dryness climbing up your throat at your intrusive thoughts. Your fingers gingerly wrapped themselves around your thumb, and you squeezed slightly, you had a good enough grip, but did you really want to? No, you didn't. You needed to. They were going to hurt Lorenzo. You blinked away the tears forming at the mere thought of the pain you were about to submit yourself to, staring at the ceiling as if it could help you. After a moment to recollect yourself, you doubled over, and bit at your gathered skirts, forcing the fabric into your mouth. With a deep inhale through your nose, you readjusted your grip on your thumb, shuffling your weight from one knee to another, steadying yourself, before you exhaled, and felt the pop.

The pain erupted from the bone, up through your wrist, your arm, hitting your heart before it erupted up through your throat. You cried out, your gown muffling your screams. A sob fell through your lips as the tears fell, and a queasy sensation overtook your skin. You ignored it as best you could, swallowing sick as you slid your newly dislocated thumb through the chains, your hand following. Your first instinct was to retrieve your hand and examine your thumb, but you knew better. You took another deep breath, before biting down again, and popping it back into place. You didn't cry as much, knowing what to expect, although you hoped you wouldn't encounter a thumb war anytime soon. You spun to face the pillar, and desperately untied the chains around your other wrist. Your fast fingers soon meant you were free, and you tugged the chains from around the marble, brandishing them as a weapon you hoped you had no need for.

You rose slowly from the floor, your legs regaining feeling as you forced them to. Any and all cries of anguish from your body to tell you to stop were pushed aside. You reached the door, listening carefully for any sign of life on the other side. Silence. You braved yourself, before slowly and quietly pulling it open. You scanned outside, seeing there was no one around, but you were on the second floor. Your thoughts of a plan were interrupted by voices flowing through the halls. Your ears spiked up, once a spy...

You recognised them immediately, Jacopo and Francesco, and someone else? The unfamiliar tone must've belonged to the visitor. You made your way down the stairs, your footsteps light as a feather. As you'd imagined, the voices came from Jacopo's office. Your eyes flitted to the gates, your easy escape, but your ears pulled to the office. Your habits got the best of you and you crept closer, swearing you heard Lorenzo's name. You only moved as close as you needed to be to make out what they were saying, not wanting to test your luck any further.

"It would be wise to strike them both at once. Let the Medici brothers bleed out beside each other," the strangers sneering felt as if it plunged you underwater. Struggling for air, you headed for the gates, you had to tell Lorenzo, and now. You couldn't let him die. You couldn't let Pazzi win.

Your cloud of worries dissipated as two guards stood in front of you, blocking your path. You tightened your grip on the chain, holding it now with both hands. The men shared a glance, smirking. You were prepared to pull their teeth out if it meant they'd stop. They advanced towards you, far too confident, when suddenly they came to a stop.

"I will handle this," Francesco's voice drawled from behind you, and you spun to see him with his hand raised. He bent his fingers back and forth as you looked at them, gesturing for the guards to leave. They did as ordered, and you were left, alone, with your old friend. "What do you think you're doing?" He hissed at you.

"Francesco," you forced him to meet your gaze, your tear-stained cheeks blushed from adrenaline, "please. Just let me leave. I will not cause any more bereavement to your family, no one will ever hear of me again," you bargained, desperate.

"You know I cannot do that," his tone was far too steady, he had built his walls and he had built them well. But all you needed was for one brick to fall.

"Please," you continued your begging, "if you ever cared for me, even a little, just turn a blind eye," your hold on the chains became lax and they dangled in your grasp.

"You know how I cared for you," he used your own words against you, he seemed offended you'd implied otherwise. "What would you even do? Run away to Venice?"

"Maybe? Anywhere but this Godforsaken city and its rulers," you reached out to hold one of his hands, and he didn't stop you.

"I can't, y/n, I'm sorry," you knew his apology to be sincere.

"Francesco, I-" your voice betrayed you, breaking as you tried to reason with him.

"Did you never care for me?" He suddenly questioned you, his tone harsh, pulling out of your grasp.

"Of course I did!" Your brows knitted together, wondering why he was asking such a question, your voice high.

"Then how can you possibly ask this of me? Knowing what my uncle would do...," your heart sank at his words, because they were true. You couldn't bring yourself to imagine what punishment Jacopo would inflict on his own nephew.

"Then come with me," your watery eyes shone, despair flooding them as they focused on Francesco. It was as if he were frozen in time, you with him, as he didn't move an inch, staring at you. Your eyes reached into his for any sign of an answer, but as always, he wasn't given a choice.

"What is going on here?!" Jacopo roared, and Francesco finally moved, turning back to face his uncle. You took as step back; you hadn't realised how close you'd been standing before.

Pazzi looked between you both, and the chains you were still holding. He let a scoff slip past his lips, shaking his head. "You freed her? After everything she's done to us? Our family?" He was furious, and it broke your heart to see how Francesco flinched at his words.

He opened his mouth to explain himself, but you spoke over him. "He didn't. He wouldn't let me go," you added spite into your voice, praying that Jacopo didn't see through it, and that Francesco did.

"No?" Jacopo moved closer to you. You glanced over your shoulder, the gates were so close, once you made it onto the streets of Florence there wasn't much he could do.

"No." You shook your head, lifting the chains before you, "I just..." and you threw the silver links at your captures nose, hoping they'd buy you your escape. A hand grabbed your wrist, and you pulled desperately, until you saw who its owner was. Francesco's grip was solid, and his gaze even more so. You thrashed against his hold, not believing the betrayal.

Jacopo grunted from beside you both, recovering from your attack. Blood trickled down from his nostril onto his lips, you were a good shot. "Whore!" He yelled, wiping it away with his sleeve. You continued to pull away from Francesco, your wrist feeling as if it was circled by flames at this point, but to no avail. His hold only faltered when Jacopo lunged forward, his hand closing around your neck. He threw you into the wall behind you, your head colliding with the cool stone, as you struggled to breath in his grasp.

"How dare you?" he seethed, his face not inches from yours. You faced as much away from him as you could, spluttering as his grip got tighter and tighter. "After everything I've done for you?! All those years I kept you alive!" You ignored his claims for your survival, knowing them to be half-truths. You gasped desperately, black creeping into the corners of your vision.

"Uncle..." Francesco's voice was timid, and felt far away.

Pazzi tilted his head to the side to look at him, before finally letting go of you. You slid down the wall, coughing and spluttering and desperate to return air to your lungs. Tears silently falling into your lap as you fingers danced over your neck, as if to make sure it was still there.

"You're lucky we need you," Jacopo spat down at you, "we're lucky it's not for long." You barely registered his words as he walked away, taking his nephew with him as he ordered guards to return you to your confinement.

—-

The ruffles of your dress sat uncomfortable on your neck. You were all dolled up once again, although you had a feeling it may be for the final time. It was Easter Sunday, and you were being prepared to attend mass. It had been days of threats and constant surveillance since your failed escape attempt. Your neck still stung, along with a fading ring where Jacopo's hands had sat etched into your skin, hence, the high collar.

You had since found out Jacopo's plan from the mouth of the horse himself. To Lorenzo's knowledge, you were engaged to Francesco, and had lied to him the whole time. You imagined, or more so hoped, he would see through it, but the way you had acted in his presence certainly wouldn't help your case. Jacopo was bringing you in hopes of a distraction, to have Lorenzo off his game, and to not notice what was happening until it was too late. And you had to admit, it made sense. Lorenzo was probably so focused on your disappearance and whether or not you betrayed him to even consider an assassination attempt at High Mass in the Duomo. For the first time, you hoped you hadn't been as important to Lorenzo as you let yourself believe.

"Where is the beautiful bride to be?" Jacopo called as he opened the door to the same room you'd been in since you got here, acting surprised to see you.

"Will you be walking me down the aisle?" You smiled up at him, his lips curled at your words.

"You'd be lucky to marry my nephew," he spoke through gritted teeth.

"I know," you narrowed your eyes, "I'm blessed."

"Hah," Jacopo grabbed your arm, leading you out of the room and towards the stairs, "as if I would ever actually let a peasant like you stain the Pazzi name.”

You were confused, and it remained on your face as you reached the foyer. Francesco was standing waiting, and he stood up taller as you approached. "We are not really to marry?" You questioned.

"Goodness girl, I cannot believe I ever took you to have an ounce of intellect," Jacopo sighed, retrieving a cloak and handing it to you. You put it on without a word, still in a state of bewilderment.

"What is this about?" Francesco asked, trying not to seem too interested as he put on his own cloak.

"Where is the ring, boy?" Jacopo ignored his question. At his words, Francesco reached into his pocket and retrieved a thin gold band, reaching for your hand and sliding it onto your finger. It was only then you realised you were no longer wearing Lorenzo's.

"She likes you more than I thought," Jacopo scoffed, "she believes in the marriage," he laughed, clapping his nephews back, expecting him to share in the amusement. Francesco's brows jumped together, asking the question he wouldn't say aloud.

"Once Medici is gone there will be no need for the marriage," Jacopo seemed irritated he even had to explain himself, "I thought that much was obvious."

"All of Florence believes me to be engaged," Francesco pushed.

"I'm aware," Jacopo's stare was deadly, "what a shame it was you lost your betrothed in all the fighting today." You hid your fear well, but it seeped into your veins and through your blood.

Francesco didn't say anything more, taking your hand into his, playing the part. On your other side, Jacopo slid his arm around your shoulder, under your cloak, brandishing a blade to the side of your throat under the cloth. "One false move, Bellondini," he warned. You swallowed thickly, silently agreeing to his terms.

You continued your silence all the way to the Duomo, watching as the crowd flooded in for Easter mass. You stood at the top of the steps alongside Jacopo and Francesco, as they greeted two other men, and you recognised one’s voice from yesterday.

Your breath caught in your throat as you saw him. Lorenzo arrived alongside his brother, greeting people from the bottom of the step. You were unable to catch his eye.

"When Cardinal Riario raises the host, you cut their throats," Jacopo's words pierced your heart, but you did not visually react, your gaze focused straight ahead of you, "in case they're wearing armour," he lowered his voice before directly speaking to Francesco. "Make sure Lorenzo sees her." He left you with them at that, melting into the crowd and making his way inside. One of the men's arms slithered around your waist, his dagger tickling at your side in replacement of Jacopo.

Francesco stared at him but said nothing. All of you turned back to watch as Lorenzo and Giuliano ascended the steps.

"One moment, my love," Francesco's act pained you as he let go of your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. He made his way over to the Medici brothers as you were left waiting with the men.

Lorenzo's gaze found yours, and the dagger in your side was pushed a tiny bit more, forcing you to politely smile. You listened carefully as Francesco spewed lies about how he hopes for the two of them to be friends again. You can't do anything but watch in silence as they embrace, Lorenzo's eyes locked on yours for the endurance of it. If there were ever a time you wished him to read your thoughts, it was now.

When Francesco turned to apologise to Giuliano, the blade by your side was relaxed, and you knew the idiot had stopped paying attention. With Lorenzo's eyes on you, you glanced up at the clear sky, your chin tilted upwards, hoping that your neck was exposed enough. After a second you let your chin fall, desperate not to raise suspicion. Lorenzo blinked a little faster than usual, looking to the side before back to his brother and Francesco, who were hugging.

"Congratulations, by the way," Giuliano spoke as he pulled away, sharing a smile with you. You wondered if he knew, if maybe he recognised you from all that time ago, if Lorenzo had told him.

"Thank you," Francesco turned his torso to glance back at you, his smile faltering, "I am very fortunate."

"That you are," Lorenzo nodded, staring at the ring on your finger, that had once worn his, before he and Giuliano left to head inside.

Francesco turned to the men once they were inside, refusing to meet your gaze. "They are not wearing armour."

#one chapter left omg #im stressed for reader yall #poor francesco ;(#fuck jacopo lives <3 #did lorenzo seeeee tho.#daniel sharman #daniel sharman x reader #lorenzo de medici #lorenzo de medici x reader #medici #medici fic #medici: masters of florence #medici: spymasters of florence #francesco pazzi x reader #francesco x reader

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innaminitus · 4 years

Text

White wolf

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Request: Hello! May I request a Geralt of Rivia smut about prompt 31? Reader is from a good family that is hosting Geralt because they required his services. They have lots of children, including reader, and they are very overbearing parents. She is always obedient in front of them, but cannot stand them, and the handsome brooding Geralt arrives! Thank you!

and

Hi I love your works so so much!! Could you please do a Geralt with thigh riding or cockwarming pls thank you !!! (both from anon)

Warnings: smut, like, really bad plot

Word count: 1982

A/N: i should be studying so i’m writing. who needs to pass these exams anyway?

Gods damn this rain, these puddles and your father, who ordered you to pick up some boletes for supper, as if you didn’t have servants to do such things. You’ve only found three before it started to rain like hell, not leaving a single dry string on you and blurring your sight. Your shoes were also wet within seconds, getting sucked by slimy mud. The sky was suddenly dark and it definitely was going to get worse than just this rain. The storm was coming and you were far from home. Great.

You walked through the forest, barely seeing anything, with water flowing to your eyes and hair sticking to your forehead. You were either going to freeze to death or drown in that rain. Or get lost completely and get eaten by wolves. That was the least optimistic option and you very much hoped you would not meet any wolf on your way back.

You almost thought that your situation wasn’t hopeless until you slipped on the mud and fell on the ground, hitting your leg hard on the rock. You cried, turning on the ground and grasping the leg. You got nauseous when you saw blood dripping through your fingers.

“Gods help me…”

Did wolves smell blood? You hoped they did not, because in that case you were dead.

You heard some noise through the noise of the rain and with heavy breath and raging heart waited for something to show up. You tried to stand up and held the nearby tree. Your leg hurt awfully, the heat of the blood and wound was the only thing keeping you from freezing.

What you saw was a horse and a big figure riding it; the rain created a halo around white hair. He jumped off the horse and walked to you. From up close he wasn’t so scary.

“Are you alright?” He asked, narrowing his eyes to see better.

“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t mind me. I often hug trees in the rain with bleeding leg.”

You could swear you saw a smile on his face.

“Well then, I shall go away. I wish you pleasant day.” He turned away and wanted to walk back to his horse.

“Oh, for gods’ sake, wait!” You tried to approach him but almost fell. The mud was very efficiently making it even harder for you to walk. He turned to you with raised eyebrow. “Will you help me?”

You realized it was probably unwise to ask a stranger to help you, but your situation was not the best and you really didn’t see yourself spending the night in the forest.

“I will,” he laughed and with one move picked you up and almost threw on the horse, which made a funny sound at the sudden weight. He jumped behind you and pleasant warmth surrounded your back. “Where should we ride?”

“Mayor’s house. I’m his daughter. I’m Y/N, by the way.” He moved the rein and the horse moved. “Will you tell me your name?”

His chest against your back was very nice indeed, and you were quite satisfied to be leaning on him.

“Geralt.”

“Wait, like the Witcher?” You tried to look at him, but in this position it was hard to do.

“Exactly like the Witcher,” he said and you could hear amusement in his voice.

“Oh, wow. The white wolf himself, rescues a girl from the mud and rain.” You nodded. “I should probably shut up before you push me off this horse.”

He only laughed again. So you’ve met a wolf, after all.

The ride was shorter than you expected and when you reached your home your father run outside to meet you.

“What happened?! What did you think, going out in such weather?!” He helped you to get off the horse. You didn’t say anything about it being his stupid idea. “Thank you, good sir,” he said to Geralt when you stood on the ground. Well, almost, because the leg was hurting like hell and you could barely stand straight. “This girl… Always causes trouble! And you, sir, must stay for the night! There is no need for you to stay in the inn.”

Geralt nodded and got off the horse as well.

“Oy! Boy!” Your father shouted to one of the men taking care of the horses. “Feed the horse and take care of it!” He completely forgot about you and grabbed Geralt’s arm to drag him inside the house. You limped behind them, imagining your sight could kill and piercing you father’s dad with it. “My wife you see, makes the absolute best pork ribs…”

When Geralt was dry and in a well lit room, you could clearly see how handsome he was. He didn’t talk much, but everything he said was witty, as if there was a lot of things going around in his head, but he wasn’t eager to express any of them.

You were quick to grow fond of him, especially in his deep voice and smirk he showed from time to time. Oh, and his amber eyes. And the jawline. Well, you liked pretty much everything in him, but who could blame you? He was the most handsome men you’ve ever met and you were sure that under his clothes he was even more impressive.

Your sister was bandaging your leg when he and the rest of your family were finishing dinner.

“So he’s the famous Butcher of Blaviken?” She asked, trying very hard not to look at him.

He could butcher my pussy if he wanted to.

“He is.” You nodded. “I was lucky he found me.”

“I hope we won’t have any distress because of it.”

“This girl, she’s the eldest, you see, but she doesn’t want to get married!” You overheard your father and rolled your eyes. “One would think that’s what woman is made for, to get married and bear children, but no!”

“I know many powerful women who are more than fine without a man,” Geralt said calmly and you felt a warm feeling towards him.

“She’s obedient child, I tell you, but a difficult one,” your father kept speaking as if he didn’t hear the Witcher. “I say she needs a man with a heavy hand to keep her in her place.”

Geralt murmured something and got up, saying something about leaving in the morning. He walked past you and sent you a ghost of a smile before climbing up the stairs in the direction of the bedroom your mother prepared for him. A little further than the bedrooms of you and your family, “just in case if he brings trouble”.

You couldn’t sleep that night, the thought of the handsome man was more than enough to keep you awake. Awake and horny when you started to wonder about how his hands would feel on your body, how his fingers would pull your hair to give him access to your neck…

You weren’t sure where you found the courage to leave your room, but there you were, walking careful to not stand on your wounded leg for too long, walking down and up the stairs to reach Geralt’s bedroom in the attic. You knocked silently, but got no response, so you opened the door and slipped inside. It was complete darkness, only a small window was letting the moonlight in.

The Witcher was sleeping, with one hand behind his head, and, to your delight, with no shirt. He wasn’t covered with blanket, the night was really warm. You walked to him.

“Geralt,” you whispered.

“What?” His eyes were still closed, but he must’ve been awake from the moment you walked into his room.

“I came to say thank you.”

“This is odd hour to do so.”

“It’s not, you’ll see.”

You were either really stupid, or really confident, because you climbed on top of him. Probably the first one.

He opened his eyes in an instant, but wasn’t surprised nor angry at your actions. He just slowly moved his hands to your thighs, crumpling your nightgown in his fingers.

“How’s your leg?” He asked, slowly rolling the fabric to reach your bare skin.

“Hurts like hell,” you sighed when he got to the hem of your dress and gently caressed the skin under it.

“Then you better be careful with it.”

“I will.”

You leaned in the same moment as he rose, your lips met somewhere in the middle. You cupped his face and deepened the kiss, shivering at the sensation of his warm skin against yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth just when his fingers travelled up your thigh. He groaned when he found out you had no underwear on.

He wasn’t going to play. Your nightgown was off within seconds, exposing your naked form in front of him, one of his hands touched your hardening nipple, making you sigh and kiss him even more passionately. He moved slightly, you were now sitting on his thigh, almost dripping onto it from the excitement you felt.

His hands slid to your hips, he forced you to grind onto him. A soft moan escaped your lips at the feeling, he swallowed it with his, kissing you fiercely. He was guiding you as you rode his thigh, electricity was rushing through your veins, destroying every sensible thought you’ve had. His leg was completely wet from your juices, only making you grind onto him harder. One of his hands grabbed the side of your neck and pulled you for a kiss, his tongue darted into your mouth, not letting you go even when bits of pleasure started to build into orgasm. Electricity turned into lightning bolts when ecstasy hit you hard and he silenced you with his lips, not letting you make any loud sound that would wake anyone up.

He let you go when you calmed yourself down a bit and with one move turned you, so your back met the mattress. He took of his underwear, freeing his impressive length, hard and dripping for you.

Geralt positioned himself between your legs and thrusted into you rapidly, painfully stretching your walls. He gave you a second or two to adjust and started to move, slowly at first, turning the pain into pleasure. He was pulling almost entirely only to push himself balls deep into your heat, each time making you moan a little louder.

“You have to be quiet,” he said hoarsely, fastening the pace.

You nodded, not being able to form letters into words and wrapped your arms around him, bringing him closer. His chest was almost pressed against yours as he thrusted in you, faster and faster, reaching the point where you simply could not be silent anymore.

At another loud moan he covered your mouth with his hand, leaning to your ear. He didn’t say anything, just bit your earlobe slightly before moving to your neck, leaving wet marks everywhere he could reach.

You moved your hips to his pace, trying not to lose your mind just yet, to make it last longer, as long as possible, but it was too hard when his cock was reaching the best spots, and his abdomen rubbing on your oversensitive clit with each move.

Orgasm hit you once more, this time even harder than before, shattering you whole, turning you into whining mess. He was just behind you, his moves became uncontrollable, he was pounding fiercely into you, biting on your shoulder to not make any sound. Your legs were shaking and hips were moving when you milked him entirely, the warmth of his cum spilling deep inside of you made you shiver even more.

He stayed like this for a moment before he pulled out and lied next to you on a small bed.

“So,” you were breathing so heavy it came out as a sigh “thank you for your help.”

“You are very much welcome.”

___

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