#i still haven’t figured out the right placement for them on my bag for sure but they’re too cute to not get a mention today <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ncitygirls · 3 years

Text

yours - jaemin x f reader

fluff, smut, bffs2lovers, 3k

before joining you to your cousin’s wedding, jaemin had made a big deal about not being properly invited. as always, mark kept true to his habit of innocently causing trouble when it suited him. ‘i’m like family! where’s my invite!’ but it was hard to fault mark, because of course jaemin had been invited. somehow, his parents neglected to inform him that your cousin had rightfully assumed jaemin would know he was included in the na family’s invite. you said nothing though. especially when jaemin had briefly explained the reason for his displeasure. ‘we deserve our own invite, y/n. one for us together.’ which made no sense at all, because you’re just friends. you’re not together. however you had no idea you were alone in thinking that.

you see, jaemin was more acquainted with your family than some of your own relatives. he was invited to christmases, weddings, birthdays. basically any and all occasions your family saw fit to celebrate, jaemin was in attendance. yet surprisingly, even after having grown up alongside you and mark, a few of your more distant cousins were more than happy to express their displeasure with his more forward placed seat. because, like you keep reminding everybody: jaemin is just your best friend. but apparently, best friends didn’t reserve the rights to things you gave to jaemin. not in your extended family’s eyes. not that yours and mark’s family cared.

yet in the end, like most things regarding you, jaemin knew his attendance tonight had been a mistake. but not because of the petty feud his presence birthed in the lee lineage. oh no. it’s because, unlike most nights jaemin spends in your company - with your hair strewn about, mascara permanently smudged, and a lazy grin etched on - tonight, you were his least favourite kind of y/n. the one where he can’t help but follow you with his eyes, watch the placement of your feet, enjoy the shrill tone of your cackle. throughout the night, jaemin had found himself warmed by the way you drag your balled up fist over your made up eye, how you sing along to songs you don’t know the words to, how you wobble in your heels before you cling to him.

jaemin makes the mistake of enjoying you a bit too much. how you scowl as your relatives chat shit a bit too loud for you liking, how you make a scene of conspicuously covering his ears, unaware of how unbothered he is. how you try so hard to make him happy, in the smallest and largest of ways. so he drags you into a dance when you move to walk over, ready to rip your own blood a new one. “i’m gonna kill ‘em.”

“no,” he states simply, one of his hands slipping from your hand to your waist. “dance with me.”

“who do they think they are!” your voice adopts an unsettling shrillness that he can’t help but chuckle at. it even throws his head back. “why are you so happy? you should be mad!”

“because i don’t care,” he shrugs, tightening his hold on you slightly. “i’m here- you’re here. why would i not be happy?”

“you’re such a fucking leo.”

he still doesn’t know what that means, but he laughs anyway, happy that your deduction seemed to satisfy you. you eventually calm down, a peace settling over you as he spins you lazily around the dance floor. there’s some early 2000s track playing, one definitely unfitting for the way he’s swaying you. but you pay it no mind, speaking softly as he presses his cheek to the crown of your head.

“when do you wanna head up?” up, meaning the hotel room your relatives are also wound up about. it was intended for the bridal party and far travelled guests, neither of which they are. and neither of which you are. but you were your cousin’s favourite. and so was he. so naturally, you two had one reserved. even your parents had opted to stay at a cottage a couple roads over. “i think the boys are all gone already.”

he notes the guilt tainting your tone, knowing how drained jaemin grew from both physical and social interactions of any kind. so you knew well what his answer would be. “when you’re ready.”

“okay,” slipping out of his hold, you drag him over to the newly married couple. you exchange brief goodnights and grateful tidings before he excuses himself to find the jacket of his tuxedo. the search doesn’t take long, his eyes landing on the black coat a few seconds after parting. he does give himself a breather though, his knees cracking as the seat holding his jacket readily carries his weight. he doesn’t dare shut his eyes, knowing full well he’ll fall victim to his fatigue. so instead, he let’s them follow the one thing that always occupies his mind, that can keep him up all night. he finds you far quicker than he did his coat, the pink satin of your dress falling half way down your calf as you skipped over to bid some other guests farewell. he sighs happily, glad you never force him into such tedious pleasantries. you learnt a long time ago that while impossibly affectionate, jaemin’s social clock ticked a few hours faster than any one else’s. so by your timing, it had probably expired a little after the vows. it took a little bit of getting used to, but it also meant for quicker farewells and a speedier exit.

it’s only now jaemin realises this was a mistake. because before he ever gets his breather, less from you, but all the feelings that come from being with you, you’re at his side. he’s learned how not to cease up at your touch anymore. instead, linking his fingers with yours when they rest gently on his shoulder. when he peeks up at you, his eyes blinded less by the party lighting and more by your tired smile, he knows not to sigh, forcing down his body’s natural response to your attention. but when you tug at his hands, bringing him to stand, whispering a-

“let’s go home, yeah?”

he knows this isn’t a mistake. this is torture.

it’s how you pour him a tall, ice cold glass of domesticity with every meal. your hand wrapped in his as you lead him through the hotel. you slip out of your heels somewhere between the lobby and the elevator, grinning up at him as he takes them from you. jaemin even curses himself, his body responding to your needs unthinkingly. he tries to calm his beating heart by counting the floors, his eyes following the analog dial as you lean against his shoulder, fiddling with his cuffs.

“do you want them off?” you ask softly, barely a touch louder than the elevator music. he nods, though your gel nails are already picking at the gold, removing them with ease. “gimme the other one.” he inhales deeply, cursing whoever gave you to him. well, not really. you weren’t really his. but god did you act like it.

your hands slip into his pocket for the room key before slipping back into his hand. he just follows you out, caught in a happy daze as you take him ‘home’. you struggle a bit with the key card, trying it every which way before he leans into you, wrapping his arm around you as he reaches for the card. “the arrow’s pointing this way,” his thumb nail presses on the black arrow indicating the direction you have to push it. he doesn’t see you roll your eyes, but he guesses you do. so he presses his lips to your temple in apology. “you’ll get it next time.”

“piss off,” you laugh, pushing the door open when it clicks. he throws the heels and jacket on a chair by the door before collapsing onto the adjacent couch, his body ready to succumb to his dire need for rest. he can just about hear you rustling through the bags in the bathroom, your feet padding around on the linoleum. when it muffles slightly, he figures out immediately what you’ve returned for when you stop between his thighs. “thank you,” you sigh, his fingers already pinching at the zip on your dress. it sits low at the base of your spine, the back of the dress leaving you completely exposed. he’d taken to placing his hand there all night, his fingers gliding up and down the skin whenever he got the chance. when it’s down, his eyes linger on your hips, the top of your panties peeking out before you slap his knee.

“what?”

“the necklace,” your back is still turned, hair blocking his view. “please?” you add, hand smoothing over the skin of his knee.

“come here,” he pulls you down to sit between his thighs, his legs parting to make space for you. you land with a huff, quickly realising you haven’t sat down all night. jaemin realises this too, your neck craning a bit further to the side than necessary as he tucks your hair over your shoulder. “you okay?”

“mhm,” you hum, squeezing his thigh. “just a bit sleepy.”

“a bit?” he laughs, a little breathless as he gathers the chain he got you one christmas. “i think you’ve earned a good sleep.” he surmises, hands squeezing your shoulders gently. “but you know you were a guest today, right? not the planner?”

“yeah?” turning onto your knees, you glare down at him. “someone had to sort my uncle out, he was steaming!”

“yes, true,” he laughs. “just make sure you’re not doing that at my wedding.”

you feign surprise at that, “i’m invited to your wedding?”

“of course,” his hands squeeze yours earnestly before he whispers, “can’t have my wedding without the bride, can i-”

“fuck off!” his cackles chase you out the room. while you wash up, he makes quick work of his tux, throwing his slacks over the back of the couch, his thumbs slowly unhooking each of his buttons. a true man of leisure, he’s in all but his socks and draws when you return. “all done!” you sing, throwing the dress down as you reappear in an oversized t-shirt. he recognises it almost immediately from uni. it’s his soccer team’s jersey. it has his number on the back.

“finally,” he whines, pushing you aside as he makes his way inside, quickly locking the door to avoid your attacks. he goes to reach for his wash bag just to find the reason he did already waiting unpacked. in a small cup on the side is his toothbrush, resting sweetly beside yours. he ignores the hygienic implications of this and skips right to the romantic. because, while jaemin thinks and often dreams of placing your first name with his last, and while he spends most of his free time with you, and while he would take any number of bullets for you, he still can’t for the life of him figure you out. even after he bombards you with affection, praise, teasing, flirting, kisses. you’re still just you. making him just him.

and that’s fine, if that’s what you want. but he’s not sure he truly knows what it is you want. and this gets him thinking about the little things. how his hand is seldom empty in your presence. how you never think of him second, always first. how you want to be with him always. moments like now, when he returns to find you hanging his tux on its hanger, encasing it in its protective sleeve. his arms slip around your waist, pulling you flush against him. and you melt instantly, resting in his embrace. “thanks,” he mumbles, lips pressing gently to your shoulder.

“‘is okay,” you hum, hanging it over the back of the door before resting your hands over his. see, hands never empty when you’re near. he sways you back and forth, his heart beating gently into your back as you lean into him. “did you have fun?” you ask, squeezing at his forearms, “i know we probably stayed later than you’d like-”

“it was great.” see, always putting him first. “did you want to stay longer?”

“not without you.” see, how you want to be with him always. he wonders how you don’t see it. how you don’t see you’re killing him. “come on,” you mumble, shutting off the light as you blindly drag him to bed. jaemin has an annoying habit of following you in, his body shuffling in after yours, rather than separating and meeting in the middle. it doesn’t allow you much room, by the time you reach your side, he’s encased you in his arms, legs, even his head, his chin slotting itself in the crook of your neck. “nana?”

“hm?”

“i’m sorry about today,” the apology doesn’t shock him, but rather your disappointment. “you’re more like family to mark and i than they ever were. tonight was just proof of that.”

“it’s okay,” he squeezes you a touch harder, trying to decipher whether your words harm or soothe the growing hole in his heart. “i can’t say i don’t see where they’re coming from.”

“what d’you mean?”

“i dunno,” he starts, thinking as his lips press to the back of your neck. “i guess i’d be confused by us too,” he mutters against your skin.

“how so?” you press, turning in his hold, gazing up at him. his eyes are more than used to the dark now as he gazes back down at you. you’re tucked right up to him, the covers strewn over your lower halves. he rests his temple on his palm, elbow pressed into the mattress as you fiddle with his fingers. “what’s confusing?”

he shrugs as best he can, watching his hand in yours. “i dunno,” he repeats, grinning when you huff. “i just- i think it’s hard for people to get that i’m your friend,” he tries, “just your friend.”

“what else would you be?” what else? what else?!

“i dunno,” he repeats for the third time, though he knows exactly what you’d be. but you don’t need to know that. not when you seemed so happy, so satisfied with how things are already. and that’s what’s most important to him. your happiness. and jaemin couldn’t exactly say he wasn’t happy with how things are either, he just knows there could be more to you both, more to this. more to him than being your best friend. but maybe it’s for another night. like he tells himself every time you push a topic you’re not remotely ready to breach. “let’s forget it-”

“no,” he flinches, just preparing to settle down for sleep. “am i missing something? if i am, just tell me.”

“i-” he drops his forehead to yours then. he’s so close, your eyes have to cross just for you to see him. it’s only when he rises you see a change in him. a nervous jaemin isn’t one you’re use to. it’s one that you would rather never see, it truly worries you. especially as he agrees, a small “okay,” leaving him before he kisses the tip of your nose, his lips barely puckered as they meet the skin. he grins as he does, his teeth gleaming in the moonlit room, his eyes open just wide enough to see you. his lips drop to your cheek, warming as your skin does. he hovers there as your hand tightens on his arm, clinging to him. he daren’t move, afraid the slightest jolt will wake him, drag him right out of this sleepless dream. when your grip loosens, he drops his head until he’s right by your mouth, his lips daringly puckering before he presses them to the corner of your lips. he stills as yours do too, your soft lips, now embalmed in his memory, pressing there ever so gently before he rises once more. he waits a second, watching the smallest of shivers rack through you before he dips again, lips falling to your neck. he smiles against your skin, overjoyed as you subtly crane your neck. his teeth drag over your skin as he journeys down the column of your neck, your hands gripping onto him a touch harder when he stops.

his fingers glide along the skin of your side, thumb pressing into the dip of your waist. he stops short of your chest, locked mid motion as he watches you breathe. there is no haste in his movements. no need to rush anything. no need to hurry. all there is, is a beat. a steady one in his chest. one that holds him here, one where he can’t move, can’t bring himself to test the waters you’ve just dared he enter. not even as the pads of your fingers glide along the warm skin of his neck, nails dragging through his nape, silently daring him to move. he pants over your chest, a lazy grin pulling at his mouth as you ask him again-

“what else would you be, jaem?”

he moves unthinkingly. as his dampened lips meet the hardened nub through your t-shirt, sucking on you through the aged material. his rolls his teeth gently, his fingers at your side finding your neglected nipple as you whine out for him. he feels himself slipping into delirium, caught somewhere between a dream and reality, unsure where exactly he’d rather be. he decides it doesn’t matter, not when you’re there. here. with him. letting him touch you in ways he never really thought possible. ways jaemin only ever imagined, only ever let himself surrender to in the dead of night. in the solitude of his own shameful company. he never thought of this. not really.

he had hoped, maybe even prayed, but never truly believed he’d have you whimpering for him. your fingers falling in the gaps between his own, pressing his open palm harder against your thinly veiled heat, your hips rolling against it. jaemin never thought he’d hear your whines, the sound cutting through him like knives, like ice shooting through his veins. he never thought you’d want him. not like this.

“jaem,” he’s with you in seconds, his spit slick lips an inch above yours. he watches patiently as you grind up against his hand, feeling his fingers prod at your desperate heat.

“you wanna know what else i could be?”

you nod. “please.”

“i could be yours.”

#i haven’t got the range #also i have jaemin on the brain and friendship too!#meet me at the altar #ncitygirls #na jaemin #jaemin #jaemin x reader #jaemin smut #jaemin fluff #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct dream fluff #nct smut #nct fluff #needs another proofread #enjoy!

529 notes · View notes

clusterbuck · 3 years

Text

wishing, wanting, yours for the taking

(1.8k, rated T, complete. vampire!buck au.) read it on ao3

@911week day 3: "whatever you do, please don't look." + hurt

Eddie sits in the parking lot outside Buck’s apartment for a long time, trying to decide whether or not to go in.

He wouldn’t even have to think about it, most of the time, would just walk right in. He has a key, after all. But their last call had been rough, and Buck had been quiet and withdrawn for the rest of the shift. Eddie had asked if he wanted to come over, but Buck had said he’d needed time alone.

That had set off the first alarm bells.

The next ones had come moments later, when he’d overheard Chimney and Hen talking about the fall Buck had taken, how they could have sworn he’d been impaled on the rebar sticking out of the floor of the abandoned apartment building.

“Trust me, I know my rebar injuries,” Chimney had said, and Hen had elbowed him, the way parents do when their kids say something inappropriate.

But Buck had gotten up and walked out of the building, which isn’t something people tend to do after being impaled by rebar, so Chim and Hen had let it go.

Eddie, however, knows better. At least he thinks he does. He doesn’t know how all of it works, exactly, but there is a very real chance Buck could, actually, be impaled by rebar and walk away. He’s just a little worried about the aftermath.

So now he’s in his truck wrestling with the fact that Buck had wanted to be alone, but every instinct Eddie’s ever had is telling him that he should probably check up on Buck anyway.

He gets out of the car.

Buck’s door is locked, but Eddie lets himself in with his key. None of the lights are on, and he doesn’t see Buck, which must mean he’s upstairs.

Eddie stands in the entryway and listens for a second, but the only sounds are his own breathing and the keys in his hand. He starts up the stairs, calling out for Buck as he goes.

“What—Eddie?” he hears, Buck’s voice somewhere between a mumble and a groan.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Don’t—” Buck says, and groans again, swallowing the rest of whatever that sentence was going to be.

Eddie reaches the top of the stairs and sees Buck in his bed, mostly hidden under a blanket. The sheets look bloody, and there are torn pieces of plastic littering the ground. They’re bloody too.

“Eddie, don’t—” Buck says again, and pulls the blanket further over his head. “Just—whatever you do, please don’t look.”

But Eddie doesn’t turn away. He doesn’t know how to not look at Buck.

Instead, he crosses the room and sits on the bed, somewhere in the vicinity of where Buck’s waist is under the blanket. He reaches for the top of the blanket and tries to pull it down, but Buck’s grip is surprisingly firm for someone who got impaled by rebar less than two hours ago.

Eddie isn’t surprised.

“Buck,” he says, channeling the gentle but firm tone he uses on Christopher when he’s being difficult. “I know you’re hurt. Let me look at you.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t even try it, Buck,” Eddie says, and pulls the blanket back.

Buck doesn’t look good. He’s paler than usual, almost chalky, and his hair is sticking in every direction. There’s blood smeared around his mouth.

“You can’t be here,” Buck mumbles. “I’m—”

“Hurt,” Eddie supplies. “You need help.”

“No, I mean…” Buck trails off and takes a deep breath, then shudders, like it’s hurting him. “I’m—” Either he can’t say it, or he doesn’t want to, because all Buck does is open his mouth and let his fangs slide out.

“A vampire,” Eddie says. “I know. Now will you let me take a look at you?”

But Buck is frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at Eddie. “You—you know?”

“Christopher has been really into the supernatural,” Eddie says, matter-of-fact, as he pulls down the blanket. “I put it together.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You weren’t harming anyone,” Eddie says, and gestures to the torn-up blood bags littering the floor. “I figured you’d tell me in your own time.” He moves Buck’s shirt aside and runs his hands over his torso, searching for the wound. In any other situation he’d be taking his time, cataloguing every inch of skin stretching across Buck’s stomach, but he isn’t clear on exactly how Buck’s healing situation works. He doesn’t know how much time he has.

He finds the wound on Buck’s left side. It looks like the rebar went clean through him, and from the placement, Eddie estimates it might have hit his spleen, maybe the large intestine.

“You’re telling me you got up and walked away after this?” Eddie asks, and he can’t tell if he’s annoyed or impressed.

“I thought it would heal,” Buck says, gasping a little when Eddie probes the exit wound at his back. “And I—ah—I couldn’t risk them taking me to the hospital again. I think they’re starting to get suspicious.”

“Why isn’t it healing?” Eddie asks, running through options in his head. He knows what he’d do if Buck was human, but he’s pretty sure none of that applies here.

“Rebar is steel,” Buck says. “Steel is mostly iron, and iron is a big no-no.”

“Why is that?” Eddie asks, momentarily distracted by the realisation of how much he doesn’t know about Buck and his… condition? Species?

“Can we do the whole walking vampire encyclopaedia bit later?” Buck groans.

“Right, sorry. So… the iron is blocking your natural healing?”

“I think so, yeah.” Buck gestures weakly at the blood bags. “I haven’t fed in a while, so I thought it would help, but…”

“Does the bagged blood usually work?”

“For feeding, yeah, but it’s not as—I don’t know the technical terms, but it’s not as—potent, I guess? They freeze it for storage, I guess that does something.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“What—what are you doing?” Buck asks.

“Is my neck okay? I don’t—I’m not too familiar with vampire lore, but a vein’s a vein, right?” And part of Eddie thinks it should feel weirder, negotiating where to let his vampire best friend drink from him, but—it’s Buck. If there’s something he wouldn’t do for Buck, he hasn’t encountered it yet.

“Eddie, you can’t—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” Eddie says, and he reaches for Buck, helps him sit up and scoots closer so Buck can reach his neck. “You need help, so shut up and let me help you.”

Eddie doesn’t know how to say take me, take all of me, there’s no part of me that isn’t already yours. But this part he can do: he can offer up this part of himself, let his blood heal Buck.

“But—” Buck tries to argue, even as his fangs slide out again, and he leans closer, like he’s drawn in by the beat of Eddie’s pulse beneath his skin.

“But nothing,” Eddie says, and cups the back of Buck’s neck, pulling him closer until Buck is cradled against his chest, his face buried in Eddie’s neck.

There’s a moment where nothing happens, then Eddie feels twin pricks on the skin of his neck, and a strange kind of pressure as the blood starts flowing. Buck’s cool lips against his skin send shivers down his spine, and if he closes his eyes he can imagine Buck’s lips on him in a different situation, one where they’re doing this because they both want to and not because Buck might die otherwise and Eddie is pathetic enough to take advantage of it.

He still has a hand on the back of Buck’s neck and he slides it into Buck’s hair, holding him close. After a moment, Buck starts moving, like life is slowly flowing back into him. He lifts one hand to the other side of Eddie’s neck, and Eddie knows Buck is probably just trying to keep him steady, but there’s something infinitely tender about the way Buck’s fingertips tickle the back of his neck.

Buck’s other hand goes to his waist, his fist clenching in the fabric of his shirt.

It’s more intimate than it has any right to be, for a random Wednesday afternoon in July. It’s not even dark out, and lazy rays of sunlight filter in through the crack in Buck’s curtains.

Eddie wants to live in this moment forever.

Finally, Buck pulls away. There’s fresh blood around his mouth, stark against the dried rust-coloured stains from earlier. He ducks his head, looking away like he’s embarrassed, and before Eddie knows what he’s doing he reaches out and grabs Buck’s chin.

“Don’t go weird on me now,” he murmurs, swiping at some of the blood with his thumb.

“Is this really your threshold for weird?” Buck asks.

“All of this is weird,” Eddie admits. “But—Buck, I came here knowing exactly what you are, and I came to help you anyway. You don’t need to hide it from me, any of it.”

“What am I?” Buck asks, like this is the part of Eddie’s sentence that he’s stuck on.

“You’re Buck,” Eddie says, because in the end, that’s all that matters. “And, okay, I have some questions, but they can wait. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie’s pretty sure that every word he’s saying is telegraphing every single thing he feels, but if Buck picks up on it, he doesn’t say anything. Which is fair, Eddie thinks—Buck’s been through a lot today.

Besides, to the extent that he’s ever planned on telling Buck how he feels, it’s never taken place minutes after he saved Buck’s life. If they ever do have that conversation, Eddie wants to be sure that Buck isn’t being influenced by anything else, like the fact that Eddie knows he’s a vampire, or that Eddie just saved his life.

It’s not that he thinks that conversation is going to happen. Nothing Buck has done has ever suggested it would. But a guy can dream.

Buck is silent, and the longer he doesn’t speak, the heavier the moment grows. Eddie knows what it looks like when Buck is about to spiral over something that isn’t worth spiralling over, so he says the first thing he can think of.

“Okay, I do have one urgent question.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks, and when he looks up he’s a little wary, like he’s worried about what Eddie’s going to ask.

“I saw you take down, like, an entire loaf of garlic bread at the station last week. Shouldn’t that have killed you?”

“God,” Buck grumbles. “Don’t believe everything you read.”

“Wait, you can say god?”

“It’s—” Buck starts, then cuts himself off. “No, you know what, if we’re gonna do Vampire 101, I’m gonna take a shower first.” And Buck’s grumbling, but Eddie sees him smiling as he heads into the bathroom, and he thinks they’re going to be okay.

#911week2021 #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #vampire!buck au #vampire lore is a construct and i literally just picked parts i wanted tbh #shush emma #emma writes

100 notes · View notes

restlessfandoming · 3 years

Text

“the president and the troublemaker” (part 5) (chilumi fic)

“Lumine is the student council president and Childe is the school’s number one troublemaker. They cross paths more than they’d like. Especially when Childe finds out Lumine’s big secret. Highschool AU à la Kaichou wa Maid-sama.”

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

hey all so sorry for the delay—i was playing through dragonspine and got busy with the holiday season too ;__;

[Fic Masterlist] // [AO3 Link]

the president and the troublemaker (part 5)

“You sure you got proper training?” Childe asked Lumine as he circled her, noting her various fighting forms.

“I got training,” Lumine said, her muscles feeling shaky after holding her form for so long. “Proper might be stretching it.”

Childe raised a brow, and Lumine sighed, relaxing her body. “Classes are expensive,” she explained. “Even if I wanted proper training, I wouldn’t have been able to pay for it.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m teaching you for free,” Childe said. “Out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Thank you, O Kind One,” Lumine said sarcastically. “Proper training didn’t even matter in Kaeya’s arena. It was kind of just like a free for all.”

“That won’t pass here. The fighters here aren’t just some thugs off the streets; these people have had that proper training, and are going to quickly outclass you if you don’t get that training in as well.”

“I thought you and Kaeya both said I was good at this?”

“Talent is one thing, but it will only get you so far. You’ve still got to train and hone your skills if you ever want to progress further and better yourself.”

“You sound so wise.” Lumine tilted her head. “If only you could do this at school too, you’d stop causing so much trouble for me and my student council.”

Childe shrugged, a smirk on his lips. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, c’mon. This is the only time where I have to listen to you, so let’s get it over with.”

With enthusiasm, he walked her through various forms of punches and kicks—foot placements, weight distribution, where to send her strength—and soon enough Lumine was sprawled on the soft gym floor, all of her muscles aching and sweat pooling on her skin. Childe sat a few feet away from her, stretching.

“You’re not even breaking a sweat,” Lumine said between gasps of breath.

He smiled. “Been doing this a long time.”

She sighed. “I can’t wait for my first fight next week.”

“You’re not nervous at all?”

“Of course not,” Lumine answered with a scoff. “I’ve been waiting for that paycheck for a while now.”

“How interesting,” Childe said looking around the gym. “Your little Vice President brother not here today?”

“No, he’s covering some student council work for me while I’m here,” she replied.

“Oh? Finally delegating your work instead of doing it all yourself?”

“Yup. If there’s anyone I trust to do the work as competently as me, it’s Aether.”

“You two are really close, then.”

“He’s my twin,” Lumine said. She glanced at Childe who in turn was looking out one of the large windows. She realized she knew nothing about him—except that he liked to stir up trouble wherever he went. “Do you have any siblings?”

A small smile. “I do. Too many, in fact.” He held up his hand. “Five siblings.”

“Oh god.” Lumine grimaced. “There’s five of you running around out there?”

He laughed. “C’mon, Pres. I’m not that bad once you get to know me, right?”

“I don’t know you.”

“You wound me,” he teased. There was a slight pause. Then, “Two older siblings: one brother, one sister. Then three younger ones: two brothers and one sister.” He started counting them off on his hands. “Alexei, Misha, Anthon, Tonia, Teucer.”

“So you’re the middle child,” Lumine noted. “Is that why you do all this? For attention?”

“Nope,” he replied, shaking his head. “Haven’t I told you already? This is all for fun.”

“Fun,” she muttered. She was doing what she had to for her family; would it be so horrible to enjoy it along the way? Childe seemed perfectly happy where he was. Could she ever be the same way? How does he do it?

“Trying to figure me out, Pres?” Childe smirked. “I’m flattered.”

She looked at him, at his glinting blue eyes, and rugged orange hair—scars running up and down his arms and legs.

Don’t get too involved with him. Aether’s words rang out in her mind.

“Absolutely not,” she said, quickly getting up off the floor. “Well, I think we should call it a day. Thanks for the training today.”

As she was leaving the gym, she couldn’t help but feel like she was disappointing Aether somehow.

But it was natural right? Childe was going to be coaching her for the foreseeable future, and they were bound to get closer. It didn’t mean she was going to become involved with whatever delinquent activities he was doing. She was just learning from him.

She clenched her fist. Just...learning....

* * *

The student council room was abuzz as the members rushed around, finishing their end-of-month reports: budgets, expenses, cataloguing—anything and everything that needed to be tracked.

Soon enough, the room was flooded with the orange hues of the sunset, and the council treasurer, a soft-spoken student named Noelle, timidly walked up to Lumine’s desk.

“Madame President?” she asked. “Some of the members were wondering if we could go home soon?”

Lumine blinked. “Is all your work done?”

“Ah, n-no,” Noelle responded. She clasped her two hands together. “W-we just wanted to get home before it got too dark.”

Amber came up beside Noelle, a worried expression on her face. “Yes, there have been reports of some creeps targeting high school girls and assaulting them at night.” She pursed her lips. “I know there’s still a lot of work to be done, but I think it’s safest if all of us leave earlier than usual.”

Bennett stood up, thumb pointing to his chest. “No worries! Me and Xiao will do our best to protect you ladies! Right, Xiao?”

The council historian, Xiao, glanced up from his own paperwork. “Yes,” he agreed simply in his usual monotonous voice.

“Hey, where’s Aether anyways?” Bennett asked Lumine.

“He got called into work right after school today,” she told him. She looked at Amber and Noelle. “I agree, it would probably be safest if we all leave now.” Then, she pursed her lips. “But, like you said, there still is a lot of work to be done, and the deadline is the day after tomorrow…”

“We can try finishing it all tomorrow then!” Amber suggested enthusiastically.

Lumine shook her head. “It’s too much, even if we tried finishing it all tomorrow.” She stood up. “Okay, everyone is dismissed. I will stay behind and complete some things to make sure we can finish by tomorrow.”

“B-but, Madame President! What about you?” Noelle protested.

“Don’t worry about me. My priority as your President is to make sure you all are taken care of.” Lumine gave them a small smile. “If I can’t protect you guys, and step up when you all need me, what kind of President would I be?”

“I’ll stay behind to protect you!” Bennett offered.

Lumine laughed. “Thank you, Bennett, really. But I need you and Xiao to make sure these ladies get home safe, okay?”

Her council was all looking at her, expressions worn with worry.

“I promise you, I will be okay.” Lumine walked to the door, gesturing out of it. “Now please: your President is ordering you all to go home.”

After much reluctance, all the student council members were on their way: Bennett walking Amber home and Xiao walking Noelle home.

Eventually, as the sky turned darker and darker, Lumine finished up enough work to ensure that her council could finish by their deadline.

She walked through the school gates as the last of the sunlight was dipping below the horizon, and a little inkling of worry bubbled in her gut.

She shook her head. I’ll be fine, she thought, shaking out her hands to loosen them up—just in case she needed to throw out a few punches later.

Walking a bit further, she mentally ran through all the forms Childe had taught her yesterday. For this kick, I need my right foot forward, then my arms need to be—

A hand clamped over her mouth from behind.

An arm wrapped around her waist, trapping her own arms to her sides.

Shit! Is this the attacker they were talking about earlier?!

She clenched her jaw. I’ll stop you right now, you creep!

Lumine brought her foot up, and slammed down on her attacker’s foot with all her force. They stumbled a bit, loosening their grip on her, which gave her the perfect opportunity to break out of their grasp, elbowing them in the gut. She heard them fall on the ground behind her. She spun around, raising her fists, ready to strike—

“Childe?”

The tall ginger let out a sheepish laugh while holding his side.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Lumine blurted.

He slowly stood. “Playing stalker, I guess.” He rubbed his side. “God, your elbow is strong.”

She clenched her fists. “Anyone else would report you to the cops right away.”

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings,” Childe said, ignoring her comments. “Haven’t you heard the news recently?”

Lumine threw him a glare. “I have heard about it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that attacker is you.”

“Just keeping you on your toes, Pres.” He smiled, but something about it was...off. A little more strained than usual.

“A simple warning would have been fine,” Lumine said. “I could have seriously injured you.”

“Ah, but you didn’t,” he retorted. “If I was actually the attacker, you would have been knocked out by now.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Let me walk you home.”

Lumine gripped the strap of her school bag, walking away. “No thank you. Especially not after what you just did.”

“Lumine, wait—”

She stopped in place. He hadn’t ever said her name before, she realized, and her heart fluttered at how it sounded coming from him. Too close for comfort.

“Don’t you dare follow me,” she said through gritted teeth, continuing to walk home.

After a bit, she glanced back, and Childe was still standing there, hands in his pockets, looking back behind at the school.

Lumine trusted her brother more than anyone in the world. She knew he wanted the best for her, and she knew the best thing would be to do what Aether said: don’t get involved with Childe.

Then...why did it hurt to push him away?

* * *

The next day, the student council was again in a hurry to get their work done on time, before the sun set. After stacking piles upon piles of papers on Lumine’s desk, the council collectively let out a sigh when the last stack was put down.

“Aether isn’t here again?” Xiao asked.

“Someone at his store quit suddenly, so he’s been called in to cover their shifts for now,” Lumine explained. “He sends his apologies.”

“Well, let’s get out of here quickly,” Amber said.

Soon the council was walking through the hallways, towards the entrance, ready to part ways.

“Amber and I have to rush to the store before they close,” Bennett said, him and Amber already running down the halls. “We gotta get some supplies for our Outdoors Club!”

“Bye! Thank you for your work!” Lumine called after them. She turned to Noelle and Xiao. “Are you good to walk Noelle home, Xiao?”

Xiao nodded. “What about you, Madame President?”

“Hey, I survived last night,” she said. “I’ll survive tonight as well. Plus, I have to help lock up anyways.”

The boy frowned slightly. “If you insist.”

“I do insist,” Lumine said quickly. “Thank you both for your work also. Get home safe, okay?”

“Thank you, Madame President,” Noelle responded softly.

Xiao and Noelle walked away, and Lumine started to make her way around the school, locking up all the entrances. She had been such a stellar president that all the administration trusted her with this task if she and her council had to stay late into the evening.

As she locked the last entrance, she heard footsteps behind her.

She turned quickly, eyes scanning the entire hallway.

But there was nothing there. The hall was empty, and it was silent.

She let out an exasperated sigh. Maybe she was overworking herself again and her brain was playing tricks on her. She made her way towards the front gates.

BZZZT!

The lights above her flickered then went out, plunging her into darkness.

What?

“Don’t move,” a voice said behind her.

“If you listen to us, we won’t hurt you,” a second voice added.

Something plastic pressed into her back, and she recognized it as a taser. Then, someone started to wrap her arms in duct tape. They put a piece of tape across her mouth.

They walked around her, looking down at her. One of the men was short and stocky, wearing glasses, while the other man was tall and thin, glassesless.

“We’ve been watching you for a while, Lumine,” Glasses said. “And we’ve really gotten to know you. We know you’re such a good student council president.”

“Yes, so diligent and selfless,” No Glasses added. “Just relax, okay? We’ll show you a good time as your reward.”

As they rambled, Lumine’s mind ran through all the possibilities of how to absolutely pummel them.

The only thing stopping her was the taser, currently in Glasses’ hand; she couldn’t be hit by that, otherwise she was done for.

She knew what to do. Now to just wait for the right moment.

* * *

She’s taking longer than usual, Childe thought, leaning against the wall of the school building. A while had passed since he had seen the rest of her student council leave, which meant she was all alone now.

Sure, she was going to be mad at him for coming here again, but he needed to. His thoughts wouldn’t settle unless he saw her get home safe.

He knew she was more than capable on her own. She wasn’t weak.

But she was human. And there are some bad people in the world, ready to do anything to hurt you, Lumine.

He sighed, starting to walk away. Maybe she already left and I just missed it…

“Lumine.”

Childe froze. His head snapped to the door, eyes wide. He had barely heard it, but someone had said her name. Inside the school.

He didn’t move a muscle, straining to hear more.

“...so diligent…” another voice spoke.

Two. There were two attackers.

Feeling the muscles in his body ignite, Childe quickly moved to the nearest window.

An icy dagger ripped into his heart.

Kneeling on the ground was Lumine, her arms bound, her mouth sealed, and two men were standing before her, one wielding a taser. The two men started walking towards her.

Childe’s face twitched, like he was subconsciously suppressing a snarl.

He stepped back, winding his body up, ready to kick through the window and go flying in.

Just as his foot shattered the glass, Lumine stood up, ripping through her bindings.

…

Huh?

* * *

Glasses and his friend started walking towards her, practically drooling.

Now!

Lumine stood up, pulling her arms apart, and breaking through the duct tape bindings. She ripped the duct tape off her mouth.

“You know me?” Lumine shouted as the two men watched her with wide eyes. “You don’t know a single thing about me.”

Using their shock to her advantage, she kicked the taser out of Glasses’ hand, then grabbed him by his collar, easily throwing him over her shoulder. She turned her attention to No Glasses, who was still frozen in shock. She easily swung her fist at his face, and he passed out on the floor next to Glasses.

Standing over their bodies, breathing heavily, a loud burst of laughter sounded behind her. Leaping back, ready to strike another attacker, she stopped when she saw who it was.

“Childe?!” she cried between heavy breaths.

Childe continued laughing hysterically, then wiped at the corners of his eyes. “Just...wow,” he managed to get out.

Lumine looked past him. Her jaw dropped. “Th-the window!”

Childe blinked, then looked behind him. “Oh. About that…”

* * *

After giving their reports to the police, Childe and Lumine stood side by side as the police car drove away, the two perpetrators locked away in the back of the cruiser.

“You’re really going to pay for the window?” Lumine asked, breaking the silence.

“Of course. I broke it.”

“It’s going to be expensive.”

He shrugged. “A small price to pay.”

Lumine bit her lip.

He came to my rescue. Again. She looked at the shattered glass on the floor. He was really ready to save me.

All she had done was push him away. And yet, here he was, by her side, coming to her rescue again.

“Thank you,” Lumine said softly.

Childe looked at her, his eyes slightly widened. Then a smile, just as soft. “Anytime.”

She returned the smile, and it felt okay. It felt right.

Maybe Aether was wrong. Afterall, he wasn’t the one spending time with Childe and learning more about him. How Childe could be caring and selfless and so patient with her.

Yes. Aether, I think…

...I think you may be wrong about Childe.

* * *

[part 6]

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #genshin tartaglia #childe #lumine #tartaglia #chilumi #lumichilde #childe x lumine #lumine x childe #genshin impact fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #me

241 notes · View notes

spaceskam · 3 years

Text

the impossible replication of desire

Summary: Body sharing fic!

Warnings: panic attacks, their trauma (Alex has a dream of Michael’s exorcism & a dream of Jesse Manes’ abuse, super easy to skip), angst, happy ending

ao3

Alex was tired.

His steps were heavy as he climbed the stairs of his porch, heading towards the front door of the cabin. All the lights were off, but that didn’t mean anything. Michael’s truck was out front. He was home.

Home. Alex nearly flinched at his own thoughts, carefully unlocking the door in slow motion before pressing in the code on the keypad for the third lock. This wasn’t Michael’s home and he wasn’t Michael’s family. He made that clear more than enough times, but Alex’s home was open to him and so was the security of his bunker. It was all Michael’s if he wanted it and therefore here he was.

After not only being taken by his father, but discovering his house practically ransacked, Alex put his house up for sale and moved into the cabin. A chunk of money he got from the sale was spent on security systems. It was more difficult to break into than the White House now.

He knew Michael would be here. He felt safe coming home and knowing he would be there, all of the notifications from his security system and the easy access to his security cameras letting him know long before he could see his truck there for himself. It was nice.

Still, the house was dark as Alex let himself in and then locked the door back behind him, throwing on the chain latch for extra measure. There was light coming from the bunker, but other than that it was just as he left it.

“Did you eat dinner?” Alex called down to the bunker, flicking on the light to the living room to drop his stuff down. He then moved to the kitchen, turning on the light in there and opening the refrigerator. It was basically the same, only restocked with water bottles. He’d thank Michael for that later. “I guess not.”

Alex yawned and pulled out a frozen bag of vegetables from the freezer, turning the oven on to pre-heat. He moved as if on autopilot as he walked past the bunker and towards his bedroom. It was a little weird that Michael hadn’t responded, but maybe he was finishing something up. Alex changed into something more comfortable even while leaving his prosthetic on. He’d take that off later.

“Guerin? Did you fall asleep down there?” Alex asked when he emerged from his room and Michael was still nowhere to be seen. A familiar wave of anxiety shot through his system, his stomach tensing with nausea as he immediately assumed the worst. Which was stupid because he was probably just wearing headphones.

Convincing himself not to worry, Alex put a layer of tinfoil on a pan and then poured the frozen vegetables onto it before putting it in the oven. Then he went and sat on the couch while he waited for it to cook. His phone, however, couldn’t keep his attention as his eyes kept drifting to the bunker. Michael was okay. He was safe in Alex’s bunker. He was just listening to music or too in the zone. There were a billion reasons why we didn’t answer.

“Dinner’s ready!” Alex called when twenty minutes passed and he pulled the food out of the oven. He listened quietly‒no response. “Michael?”

Deciding that he could use the excuse of dinner and it was his house, Alex went to the opening of the bunker. He held on and carefully started climbing down the latter. He hated how many times he would look down to check his foot placement, though he could easily blame the fatigue for his anxiety.

“Michael, what are you‒”

Alex froze as he turned to the work table. Michael stood by it, eyes wide, lips parted, and his hand a new piece of alien tech Alex didn’t recognize. He looked catatonic and Alex could feel his heart thumping in his ears.

“Michael?” he asked, taking a cautious step closer. No reaction, not even a blink or anything. “Hey. Hey, are you alright?”

Alex slowly walked closer and gently touched his shoulder. He didn’t move. Alex swallowed hard, slowly counting down from three mentally to keep himself calm.

“I’m going to take your hands off of this and then I’m going to call Isobel. You’re alright,” Alex said out loud, more for himself than Michael.

He carefully touched Michael’s wrists and he was abnormally cold, colder than even any human should be, and Alex became increasingly aware that he wasn’t sure he was breathing. He had to count down from three again, head spinning and jumping to conclusions he shouldn’t.

“You’re fine. I know you’re fine. You’ll be fine. This is fine,” Alex repeated, panic swarming his brain like a cloud of bees that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times he swatted. He managed to stay relatively calm nonetheless.

And then he accidentally touched the alien tech in the process of peeling his fingers off of it.

A bright light flashed through Alex’s eyes and a piercing white noise flooded his hearing, cutting him off from most of his senses as something body-slammed him and knocked him to the ground. His mind was too fuzzy to construct thoughts. All he could do was breathe and wait for it to pass even as thoughts and memories crowded into his mind too fast to catch. Half of them he was sure weren’t even his own.

And then it all went black.

When Alex came to, his body ached and his head was throbbing.

He sat up slowly, his eyes instantly falling on Michael who hadn’t moved. The sight almost brought Alex to tears‒he felt overwhelmed. He was tired and he hurt and he was overwhelmed. It was like his body was stuffed with emotions that he wasn’t prepared for. Which‒honestly wasn’t that abnormal. Maybe he should go take his anxiety meds before bed…

‘Do I actually look like that?’ Michael asked suddenly. Alex would’ve been relieved by the sound if maybe Michael’s mouth had moved or maybe he’d heard it with his ears rather than inside his own head, alongside his own inner monologue.

“Michael?” Alex asked weakly, still feeling too much.

‘Don’t freak out, okay?’ Michael said, still inside his head. Tears pricked Alex’s eyes and he started breathing heavier. ‘Alex, hey, don’t freak out. It’s okay. I’m here‒literally. And‒oh, fuck, I don’t like that. Do you feel like that all the time or is it just right now? Is it because you’re panicking? Do you feel this way each time you panic? Because your thoughts are too fast for me to even process and you feel like you’re suffocating which would be bad because I’m in you too and that’s gonna be hard to explain on the death certificate, ha. If you are freaking out, maybe‒’

“Do you always think this much because shut the fuck up,” Alex snapped, meaner than he meant to but he couldn’t think. He needed to just think and he couldn’t when Michael’s thoughts were filling his brain and‒

Oh god, Michael’s thoughts were filling his brain.

‘Hey, my thoughts aren’t that bad. But don’t worry, I think I can sort of keep you out of most of them because I can only hear your loud ones‒I think. I’m gonna need you to calm down before I know for sure.’

“Michael,” Alex whispered, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, “Can you please get out of my head?”

There was silence for a moment and Michael must’ve been right that they could only hear the loud thoughts. But‒Well, he could still feel him. He could feel the way he was struggling. If he was in front of him, he would probably have that cocky little smirk and his head tilted back. He would act like he was chill, like he wasn’t scared, maybe he’d pretend to be angry.

But Alex could feel the fear. It was a cold, quiet, deep dread.

“You don’t know how to get out, do you?” Alex asked carefully.

‘No.’ Michael replied honestly. Which. Fair enough. ‘But I’ll figure it out!’

“Figure it out,” Alex said, “Do… do you even know what happened? How are you in my head? What did you do?”

‘Okay, so, working theory, the alien tech I was messing with was working through my consciousness and when you touched it, it freaked out and put me in the wrong body. So, your body. So my entire consciousness is in you. Kinda kinky if you think about it.’

“No,” Alex whispered, closing his eyes and slowly bowing his head. He didn’t like this. There were a billion ways to feel, but his brain could only say how much he didn’t like this. He didn’t like hearing someone else’s voice in his head.

‘Alex,’ Michael said softly, ‘Alex, are you okay?’

“You’re in my fucking head, what do you mean am I okay? Of course I’m not okay, are you okay?” Alex said, heart thudding in his chest and head still swimming. He was tired and he hurt and he needed to eat and he needed Michael out of his head.

‘Let’s go eat the dinner that you made,’ Michael told him, ignoring the question which was answer enough, ‘Then we’ll come see if I can fix it.’

“I don’t like this,” Alex said.

‘I know. Me neither. But you need to eat, I can tell you haven’t eaten all day,’ Michael instructed. Alex swallowed and lifted his head, looking up again.

Michael’s body was still frozen in place, empty of all thought apparently. Leaving him there was just something Alex wasn’t prepared or willing to do. He pushed himself to his feet carefully, ignoring Michael’s ‘whoa’ reaction.

‘You’re tired,’ Michael said. Stating the obvious, loud enough for them both to hear.

“Yeah, I worked all day,” Alex said. Michael didn’t respond. “I’m laying you down.”

Alex walked over to Michael’s body, carefully reaching out and touching his cheek. He was still cold. He moved his thumb to rest under his nose. He wasn’t breathing. Alex gave a shuttered breath.

‘It’s just in stasis, it’s alright, don’t freak out. I’m still alive.’

“Don’t freak out,” Alex repeated with a scoff.

Still, he was careful as ever as he put one hand on the back of Michael’s neck and the other on his waist. He made sure not to even accidentally bump the alien tech just in case that somehow made this horrific situation infinitely worse. He guided his body to the couch they’d placed in there, taking the brunt of his weight and not caring if his body ached in the process. It didn’t matter.

Michael was suspiciously silent through the entire thing, even as Alex brushed his hair back and pulled a blanket over him just in case. What if when he came to, he was still cold? That just wouldn’t do. He wanted to keep him as warm as possible.

“Can you feel hunger right now?” Alex asked after a long stretch of silence. He didn’t want Michael in his head, but he also didn’t really like the feeling of him being too silent for too long. At least while he was in his head, he knew where he was.

‘I can feel yours. It’s basically like I was just stuffed into your body. I bet I could control it if I tried.’ It was said in a rather intrigued tone, that of a scientist and nothing more. But it still shot a pang of panic through Alex’s system. He’d experienced not being in control of his body before and he wasn’t keen on a repeat, this time even more extreme. ‘Sorry.’

“Is that how you feel?” Alex asked carefully, his hand deceptively steady as he scraped off the vegetables onto a plate. They weren’t hot anymore. It was cool enough to touch the pan. “Like you’re trapped in my head?”

‘Well, don’t say it like that.’

“So, yes,” Alex said, bringing the plate to the table. He sat down and held his fork in his hand, staring at it. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

‘Alex. Eat.’

And he tried. Michael was quiet. He could tell he was still there, the buzzing of his thoughts still affecting Alex despite the fact that he was keeping them from overpowering Alex. It was almost impressive how quickly his thoughts were moving, constant unfettered thought process. He was suddenly hit with a memory of Michael, young and pretty and hiding so much from him, saying how loud and chaotic his thoughts were and how music helped quiet it.

The buzzing slowed for a moment.

‘Is that how you saw me?’ Michael’s voice asked him, curiosity in his tone more than anything else. Alex blinked. He was starting to feel a bit numb to the whole thing.

“So we can share memories,” Alex said bluntly, dread building in him and dissipating into his bloodstream. He couldn’t care about that. If he cared, he’d think more about things he didn’t want Michael to see and he would be loud about them.

He leaned into the numbness.

‘I’m going to fix this,’ Michael said with a newfound determination. A bitter smirk found Alex’s face. He wondered, not for the first time, about all the things that Michael didn’t want him to know.

“Okay.”

Alex finished half of the vegetables before putting them in the refrigerator and telling himself he was definitely going to eat them later. Similar to the way he was definitely going to get a water filter since he didn’t trust the water that came to the cabin but he didn’t want to just keep buying water bottles. Eventually, he would, hopefully.

Michael’s thoughts buzzed and Alex dragged himself back to the ladder down to the bunker. He was tired and his body ached and he really didn’t want to be climbing up and down the latter so many times. Couldn’t Michael accidentally discover this horrific thing on a day he didn’t have work?

‘Right, so, this is going to be a little bit weird because I can’t handle the tech myself. You’re just going to have to listen to what I say and try to do them to the best of your ability. Not saying that you aren’t as capable as me, I’d never say that, you’re so smart and good at everything you do. I actually saw your work the other day, that website you were coding for that little mom and pop shop in town and that was really impressive how quickly you can type. I didn’t know you did freelance work like that either, is that for extra money or for a hobby? I wonder how complicated it would be to set up a recording system with all your tech stuff, I can’t imagine it’d be‒

“Michael,” Alex said slowly, a headache already coming on. He suddenly had a new appreciation for Michael Guerin in his own body. It was beginning to feel like a miracle that he didn’t have panic attacks every day over his own overwhelming brain. “Slow down, keep focus.”

‘I’m focused, I am, sorry.’ It was a lie. Maybe that’s why he was good with his hands, he needed something to put his energy into. ‘My point was that it’s hard for me to explain what I’m doing with my hands, so I’m just gonna try and hope for the best.’

“I’ll try.”

‘And I trust you.’ There was a pause, though the buzzing never stopped. It honestly didn’t really stop when he was talking. That alone was a bit scary. Maybe they’d need to work on something to help his brain relax.

“I trust you too,” Alex whispered.

Michael guided him through different ways to handle the tech, correcting him here and there and doing his best not to get frustrated which Alex appreciated. He tried to hold onto it while Michael’s body was still holding it and he focused really hard, trying his damnedest to send Michael back. And Michael was trying to, giving all of his focus, but no matter how long he tried, nothing happened.

‘Try holding it by yourself.’

“What if we both just get sucked in and then we’re both catatonic?”

‘That won’t happen.’ There was a pause. ‘I think.’

Alex took a deep breath and just listened, carefully peeling Michael’s fingers off the tech. It was like taking something from a corpse which was. Unpleasant. And not the first time Alex had done that.

‘Alex.’ Michael’s voice was a warning and it’d be more helpful if Michael knew what he was warning him from. ‘I’m okay. I’m not dead.’

They were friends right now. They weren’t together, but they were friendly and Michael was welcome in his house. Sometimes, they hugged. Alex knew restraint and he knew how to wait for what he wanted. Even with all of that, he couldn’t help the way his stomach twisted and turned at the prospect of never touching him again. It would be endless taunting to have his voice in his head and yet nothing to be tactile with. Nothing to touch, nothing to feed, nothing to hold, nothing to be held by.

“I know,” Alex said, pushing those thoughts down deep and pulled the alien tech into his lap. If Michael heard any of his thoughts, he said nothing.

‘Okay, do you see that thing in the top right that looks like a thumbprint?’ Michael asked. Alex scanned it and then nodded, going to reach for it. ‘No!’

“What? Why not?” Alex asked quietly, but he snatched his hand away.

‘Sorry, sorry. It’ll shock you if you don’t put your left thumb on it, but it has to be kept in the top right corner.’

“How does it know?” Alex asked.

‘Fuck if I know. Okay, put your left thumb on it and then put your right palm in the center.” Alex did as he was told. ‘Close your eyes and picture me being plucked out of your mind, through your arm, and into the piece.’

“What is this, some kind of meditation?”

‘Just bear with me.’

And Alex did. He pictured it over and over, plucking a tiny Michael out of his brain. When the first one didn’t work, he imagined different parts of his brain. Then he imagined the tiny Michael flailing like a Mii. Which really only messed up his focus because he started smiling at the idea.

‘This isn’t working,’ Michael sighed. It was weird that he could sigh in his brain. He wondered how that worked. Could he laugh in his brain? Alex couldn’t. ‘You’re distracted.’

“I’m sorry,” Alex said instantly, his spine straightening up a bit in response. He could feel the buzzing of Michael roar a bit louder.

‘It isn’t your fault. You’re tired‒I’m tired. Maybe we should go to sleep and try again in the morning.’ Michael suggested. Alex gulped softly, staring at the piece.

He wasn’t too keen on sleeping with Michael in his head. When he was awake, he could keep things quiet. He didn’t know what would happen if he went to sleep. Would Michael see his dreams? The idea in particular scared the shit out of him, more than even their current situation.

“What happens tomorrow, then? I have work. Don’t you?” Alex asked.

‘Maybe we could call in. For me, just use my phone to text Sanders. Old man has the font on his phone ridiculously big and can still barely see it, so he just has my ringtone set so he’ll piece it together. It’s not even anything cool, it’s just one of the sparkly ones that come already downloaded into your phone. I do like that I have my own ringtone though. Does that make me weird? Do you think he’d be freaked out if he knew I liked it? Nah, he’s basically like my dad. Don’t tell him that, though, I think that’d make it weird. Well, he did want to adopt me, so maybe not that weird, but‒’

“Michael,” Alex cut in, lips parted a bit as he absorbed the few words that he could, “He wanted to adopt you?”

There was just buzzing for a while and then, ‘I thought I told you.’

“No, I would’ve remembered,” Alex whispered.

‘Oh. Well. Yeah. Sorry.’

Alex swallowed and shifted, looking over to Michael’s body. He was still cold and not breathing and the whole thing was just more and more unsettling by the minute. So Alex took a deep breath and placed the piece on Michael’s stomach before standing up.

“I’ll call my superior in the morning and tell him I can’t make it,” Alex said.

He sighed and closed his eyes. He typically found that as a comfort, as sealing himself in so it was just him. But that didn’t quite work with Michael in his brain. It was just as invasive. As much as he loved Michael with his entire being, it still made his skin crawl in a way he dreaded to admit.

‘In the morning, we’ll figure it out. And if we still are struggling, we’ll call in Liz. Oh! I bet Izzy could help if she could get into the mindscape.’

“No offense, but I barely like having you in my head. If we can avoid bringing your sister in that, that’d be great,” Alex said dryly, making his way to the latter. It looked much more intimidating than usual. God, he was tired.

‘Last resort.’ Michael promised.

Alex sighed and started to drag himself up the ladder. It took way more effort than he would ever willingly admit‒but he couldn’t even keep that to himself because Michael was in his head. He, presumably, could feel how much it was taking out of him. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything.

Alex took his time catching his breath as he moved to his bathroom, locking the door behind him on instinct, and then paused before he made another move. He needed to wash off, but he wasn’t keen on that with Michael in his head. He was comfortable with Michael seeing his body, yes, but… That was different.

“Michael?” Alex asked.

‘Oh, um, I’m sure there’s a way I can, like, turn off. Or something? Give me a minute.’

“Wait,” Alex said quickly, clutching the counter. His breathing labored a bit as his stomach churned and Michael’s buzzing amplified. “Don’t… Don’t turn off, that’ll freak me out, I don’t want you to go away until you’re in your body again.”

It was probably a horrible thing to say that he would regret, but also the idea of Michael going silent was suffocating and he couldn’t handle that on top of everything else.

‘Okay, I won’t.’ His voice was soft, earnest. It was debatably the first time he sounded like he actually understood what Alex needed from him. Alex didn’t want to think about that.

“Just… How do you see? Are you seeing through my eyes or is it some type of omnipotent, third-person type view or… I don’t know, I haven’t read enough sci-fi books on body sharing,” Alex said, pulling out the stool that was tucked underneath the counter.

He sat down and put his hands on his thighs. He pushed down with each finger one at a time slowly, from his pinky on his left hand to his pinky on his right. He breathed in tandem.

‘I see through your eyes. Right now I see your hands, your sweatpants, your rug. I love that rug by the way, but I don’t know if you should have a fabric floor mat in the bathroom. That’s, like, a hub for mold and bacteria. Did you know that? They have rubber ones, do you think those would work? I’m going to get you one and see how you like it, I think it’d be good. Or, like, at least‒’

“Michael,” Alex sighed. He’d said his name more times today than he’d said probably ever before. He just thought so loud and so much.

‘Sorry. But, yes, I see through your eyes.’

“Is there a way for you to not look?” Alex asked. Michael was quiet except the buzzing. “This is just… I don’t think…”

‘I don’t know, Alex. Let me see, okay? Give me a second, let me try.’ Michael sounded like he really would try, so Alex nodded and let him.

There was a stretch of silence with Alex doing nothing but pressing his fingers into his thighs, keeping himself calm and grounded. He didn’t try to rush as Michael fiddled around in his brain. He wasn’t really in a rush anyway. He wasn’t eager to go to sleep like this.

They kept on until Alex’s left hand stopped pressing into his thigh without his approval. Alex stopped breathing, staring at it and trying to move it. It wouldn’t.

“Michael,” he whispered, all that panic he’d subdued rising to the surface at alarming rates. It only worsened when his hand clenched into a fist on its own accord.

Alex made a noise between fear and shock, flinching away from himself. His throat closed in on itself and choked him and his head spun and tears pricked his eyes and he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t control his body and he couldn’t control his body and he couldn’t control his body and he couldn’t

‘Fuck! Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know that‒Alex, Alex, breathe. Breathe, okay? Breathe. Move your hand, look, it’s yours, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’ Michael rambled and Alex felt hot tears pour over his cheeks. He clenched his hands into fists over and over, making sure he could control them.

Alex’s breathing was ragged and he was shaking, but he watched his hands and tried to ignore Michael's rambling. He slowly moved his hands to the top of his head and looked at the pole that held his shower curtain. He counted each ring as effectively as he could, trying to catch his breath. Michael eventually caught on that his words weren’t helping.

They sat like that for‒for too long. Alex wasn’t sure how long it actually was, but it was enough that, by the time he could breathe again, he was too exhausted to think about showering. He still kept moving his hands, making sure he was able to.

“I don’t like that,” Alex said, voice smaller than he would’ve liked. Childish, honestly. Helpless and out of control and childish.

‘I am so sorry. I didn’t realize that would happen, I was just trying to figure out where I could go. But, I… I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again.’ Michael was genuinely repentant. Later, Alex would feel embarrassed about the entire thing. Right now, he just wanted Michael in his own body. ‘I’m so sorry.’

“Is that how you feel?” Alex asked, swallowing softly, “Like you’re completely out of control? Like… like something is moving for you?”

Michael’s lack of response was response enough.

Alex laughed a wet laugh and sucked a deep breath in through his nose. Hands shaking, he turned towards the sink. He wet his toothbrush with hot water and put toothpaste on it and brushed his teeth the way he did every night. Michael stayed quiet.

He rinsed, spit, washed his face, took his anxiety medication, and told himself he’d try to shower in the morning. A few more grounding breaths later, he moved to his bedroom with a wet washcloth in his hand. Alex sniffled and sat on the edge of his bed, slowly removing his prosthetic. He was supposed to clean the sleeve, but he couldn’t right now. He instead wiped his stump with the washcloth and decided it would have to be good enough.

Alex pulled out his phone and checked to make sure all of his security alarms were on and he’d already known the doors were locked. Typically, he would’ve done another round, but he was tired and overwhelmed and wanted to get in bed. He shifted towards the top of his bed and climbed beneath the blankets, wrapping himself up tightly. The lights were still on. He’d turn them off in a minute.

“I’m sorry for freaking out,” Alex whispered after a solid two minutes of cocooning himself.

‘Don’t be. I’m sorry for this entire situation. It’s… super invasive.’

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” Alex murmured into his comforter, breathing as steadily as he could. In, out, in, out.

‘It’s unfair. I promise I’m going to fix this.’

“I believe you.” And Alex did believe him. He believed that Michael could do practically anything he set his mind to. That was the benefit of having a genius on hand.

This was just a particularly horrible situation that had Alex too nervous to think too loud.

‘You’re tired. Get some rest.’ Michael said, soft and sweet. For a fleeting moment, Alex wished he was here. ‘I wonder if my telekinesis works in your head. Do we even know if it’s physical or psychological? I don’t think we really do, or, like, not entirely. We gotta look into that as soon as I’m back in my body. Do you think I could turn the light out without making you get up? Do you mind if I try?’

Alex swallowed and clutched his blanket closer. When it was dark, it’d be even harder to fully conceptualize that Michael was in his head. When it was dark, he would hear him and it would be so easy to imagine he was just on the other side of the bed.

Still, he was right. Alex was tired. And the only way he was going to calm down was if he slept. That was easier said than done and he didn’t really want to sleep, but it was something he needed. He’d just have to play it by ear.

‘Please get some sleep, Alex.’ Michael sounded like he heard him. Perhaps he really did.

“I’ll try,” Alex said, “Try turning out the light.”

In theory, Alex did understand how the aliens used their powers. It was an intense and beautiful thing and Alex could watch Michael do it for hours. Feeling it, however, was something different. Michael focused on the light switch and Alex was all but lit up from the inside. His lips parted and the barrier in his mind he used to keep Michael out of his private thoughts seemed to shatter as they melded for a moment, too quickly to really learn anything and yet long enough to feel akin to the way he did when Michael whispered his closest secrets minutes after sex. Too intimate. Too close. Too much.

The light was off and the feeling died and the barrier returned. Michael went to his side of the brain and Alex took shaky breaths, tugging the blanket tighter around him. At least the feeling of sheer panic had subsided. Instead, blinding embarrassment and foggy pleasure and a massive amount of fatigue had filled his entire brain. Because of a fucking light switch.

‘My bad.’ Michael said, his voice warm enough to be a verbal hug.

Alex breathed in, curling up beneath his blanket and holding it to his nose. He wanted Michael so badly, more than he had in a while. Which was saying something because he typically wanted him a lot.

“You feel like that every time you use your telekinesis?” Alex asked softly. If he let his mind drift enough, he could imagine idle fingers on his hips, a foot rubbing against his calf, a pair of lips on his neck. Even then it was nothing more than phantom desires, once he hoped were too quiet for Michael to hear.

He was a little too convinced that they weren’t and yet Michael didn’t mention it.

‘No. I guess because it’s, like, through a different conduit‒not saying you’re just a conduit, but, you know, my body is built to do that stuff and yours isn’t. So it’s kinda like immediately lifting 50lbs when you’ve never lifted weights before. Deceivingly easy and then it’s not, like that took a lot of effort on my part and it’s not my body. And then‒there’s two of us, so it’s different. I kinda for a minute felt like we were bumping brains. Did that hurt? I didn’t feel any pain, but I don’t know how this works. I bet that drained you, though, you feel more fatigued. I won’t do it again. Are you okay? Talk to me.’

“Lifting too much weight doesn’t feel like that,” Alex whispered, eyes drifting closed. He was tired. So tired that he was almost a little angry that he wouldn’t be able to stay up long enough to keep his dreams away from Michael.

Michael hummed softly, amused.

‘Can you try something for me?’ he asked, soft and sweet and coaxing. A drastic tonal shift from where he’d been just a moment ago, from where he’d been for months. ‘Try talking to me in your head so you don’t have to keep talking out loud, I know that gets exhausting. Let’s see what it sounds like.’

In a different world, a different time, Michael would’ve called him baby somewhere in there. Sometimes Alex listened to him talk and could hear where he should’ve called him baby. He hadn’t heard it in so long. God, he needed to get rid of these thoughts.

‘It was draining and I’m tired,’ Alex tried, like an internal monologue but with more intent. Here is where Michael would smile at him, lean close, touch him somewhere just because he wanted to. Because he could. When was the last time Michael touched him simply because he could? Had it been a year now? More?

‘You’re thinking a lot of stuff I can’t hear. You okay?’ Michael asked.

“Does it sound like buzzing?” Alex murmured, “Yours sounds like buzzing.”

‘Yeah, a little. You don’t like the in-brain talking?’

“Might make it difficult to keep the stuff I don’t want you to hear away from you,” Alex said simply, “It’s hard enough.”

‘Fair.’ Michael was quiet for a moment, the buzzing still there.

Maybe they would wake up in the morning and this would all be fixed. Maybe this was a bad dream that would just force Alex to appreciate Michael’s existence.

But that would be fucking stupid because he already appreciated Michael’s existence. It was Michael who didn’t want him, not the way he wanted. Not the way they used to be.

Alex’s eyes slid open, suddenly not as willing to go to sleep. He was exhausted and wasn’t sure he would be able to get up in the morning if he didn’t sleep, but he didn’t want to. There was a chance that he would sleep and Michael would see things he shouldn’t and it wouldn’t change anything other than their already fragile relationship.

He couldn’t even keep his thoughts straight at this point.

‘Alex, you need to go to sleep. We’re tired.’

Alex didn’t respond, just staring at a fixed point on the wall. He shouldn’t have let him turn the lights off. The longer he forced himself to stay awake, the more the good feelings from his power faded and the more the bad ones from earlier in the night amplified.

Alex stayed awake as long as he could, fought off the fatigue, ran off the adrenaline from his anxiety.

Still, none of it was a match for how drained he was in every sense of the word.

“What are you talking about? What are you doing?”

Alex was laid on a bed of some kind, trying to fight them off. They were all faceless until they weren’t. Light would shift and he would catch angry, hateful, sorrowful, and clinical stares. They ignored his questions as they strapped him to the bed.

He was shirtless, pantsless, bare, and exposed. His ankles were held down by more straps. The people around him ignored him as he started to panic. They were all wearing black and white, all in habits and priest attire. Where was he? What was going on? What were they doing?

“Please, Father, help this young boy,” one of them said. A nun, the one who looked like she wanted to cry. Like maybe she felt bad. If she did, she didn’t do anything to help him. “Please.”

“Step back. We don’t know what this thing will do.”

The one who held his hand slipped away and Alex tried to keep himself calm.

If you’re good, they’ll let you go. If you’re good, they’ll let you go. Just be good. Just be good. You can be good.

Alex locked eyes with the priest who stood over him. He made a face, one of disgust. One of ‘how dare you think you’re allowed to look at me’ and Alex never broke eye contact.

He spoke in a different language and began to circle Alex’s body. It started off stupid: just recitations and throwing water on him. It was cold and Alex would flinch, but beyond that he didn’t do anything. This seemed to piss off the man more and he took a step to the side to speak with the other patrons. While he was doing that, Alex started to try and wiggle out of the restraints.

Before he knew it, though, they were back. The water they threw on him this time was hot. Flicks and droplets of scalding water, enough to make him gasp and enough to make him want to try to fight the restraints more. On his chest, on his thighs, on his legs, on his arms, on his face. It burned.

He kept it in for as long as he could, kept quiet, kept obedient, tried to be good. But it hurt. He screamed at them, please, please, please.

“It’s working.”

It seemed like it went on for days, hours. Alex laid there until he couldn’t cry anymore. He laid there until he was starving so much he felt nauseous. He laid there until every inch of him hurt in some way. He laid there when they pressed heated crosses into his arm. He laid there and let them brand him.

He laid there.

He laid there and he didn’t lose control.

He was going to be good.

Alex woke up with a start, gasping and clutching the sheets.

It was dark still. His dream was… not one he’d had before. Mindless, he checked his body the places his dream had said he’d been burned. It felt real. He checked his arms for crosses, rucked up his shirt to see splash marks from boiling holy water, felt his face to see if there were any sensitive spots. It took him three checks to realize it was the wrong body.

The cross brand that had faded over the years was rather inconspicuous on a man full of scars, but Alex had felt it. The parts of his body that took him a while to not flinch away from when Alex tried to touch made more sense. He just… didn’t think it was because of this.

‘I’m sorry.’ Michael’s voice was soft and nervous. Alex felt residual anxiety on top of the pre-existing bullshit from the dream itself.

“Michael,” Alex said because that’s all he could say, “Michael.”

‘Go back to sleep,’ Michael tried, ‘I’ll do better this time.’

Alex caught his breath and tightened his hold on his sheets. He wanted to curl up into his chest, to tell him sweet nothings. To touch and be touched because that was safe. Whatever he’d just dreamed was not safe. Having an empty Michael-suit in his basement was not safe.

Still, he slowly coaxed himself back to lay down. He was tired still and that dream had robbed him of any sense of being rested. And it was still dark.

‘Please go back to sleep. It’ll be okay. I’m sorry.’

“I’m sorry too.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Dohman said, getting too close to Alex’s face. He would never understand why men who took homosexuality as their enemy number one decided to get nose to nose with other men when they were angry. It would be funny if it wasn’t the actual worst.

“Look, Dohman, you’re not my fucking type, get over it,” Alex said, shoving him back. That was his first wrong step, but what was he supposed to do? Let it happen? “I like men, not whatever the fuck you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dohman asked, his eyebrows tugging together further and his face turning a deeper shade of rage red.

“What‒are you upset? Aw, do you have a crush on me?”

Dohman threw the first punch and Alex managed to dodge it, throwing the second one. There were a few more, a blur of them, before he was hit in the nose and stumbled back. He stumbled straight into a different room, a kitchen.

“Alex. You’re late.”

The voice was one that instilled fear deep within Alex and he stood up a little straighter. His father sat at the head of the table, staring at him like he expected him to be late. Alex took a deep breath and went to sit at the table.

“I’m sorry, what do you think you’re doing?” he asked. Alex blinked.

“Sitting.”

“Did I say you could sit? You’re late. You missed curfew. Do I need to remind you what happens when you miss curfew?” he asked. Alex shook his head.

“No, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”

Alex held his breath as he stood up straight and went to the corner of the kitchen. He knelt down, his face towards the wall, and held his arms up. If he slumped or his arms wavered or if he sat on his feet, he would get an extra two hours. So he didn’t let that happen.

Alex listened to his father eat dinner. Listened to him put his dishes in the sink. Listened to him go into the living room and turn on the TV. He always wondered if he forgot about him, but he knew he couldn’t get up without consequences.

So Alex stayed.

And Alex didn’t slump.

He was going to be good.

When Alex woke up this time, the sun was still hidden away.

This one was less shocking, less jarring, more standard. Still, he curled up in bed and rubbed his knees mindlessly. Michael’s buzzing was there, but he didn’t say any words. Alex was almost thankful for it. He was embarrassed and still tired.

As his alarm went off to tell him to get up and get ready for work at the bright and early time of 4 AM, Alex turned it off and instead called the base. He made up an excuse about a stomach bug and how he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk giving it to anyone else and didn’t he have sick days built up? His superior agreed, told him to get some rest, and promised to see him when he was better.

Alex dropped his phone.

‘It was much sexier sleeping next to you when we didn’t share dreams.’ Michael sounded tired somehow. How did that work? Michael had probably already thought about that question a million times over.

“Yeah, it was,” Alex agreed.

He laid in bed for a few extra minutes before deciding he wasn’t going to get any more sleep. Whenever Michael left his brain, he was going to be taking a trazodone and he was going to knock into a relatively dreamless sleep for 12 hours. He at least had that to look forward to.

Alex climbed out of bed and reached for his crutches. When he got upright, it made it just that much more prevalent how tired his body was. This whole thing was draining and exhausting. His leg was sore, his head hurt, his stomach felt like he’d gotten a rather extensive core workout.

He spent his morning going through his regular routine, only this time with mindless Michael commentary. Alex had definitely understood Michael had a rather busy thought process and he struggled with silence, but he hadn’t realized how much. It was almost concerning.

Still, he listened and brushed his teeth, listened and washed his face, listened and took his meds, listened and put his prosthetic on, forced himself to eat breakfast, etc, etc, etc. Midway through his third cup of coffee, Alex started making his way down to the bunker. He held the mug between his teeth and focused on the ladder instead of Michael’s rambling.

When he looked at Michael’s body, it was exactly the way he left it. Alex walked over slowly and put his hand on his bicep, massaging it carefully and making sure it wasn’t getting stiff. He looked dead, he didn’t want him to feel dead.

Michael in his mind, however, went actually silent for a moment. Even the buzzing stopped.

‘What are you doing?’ Michael asked carefully.

“Sorry, I won’t touch you,” Alex said, taking his hand away. His eyes were harder to remove.

‘You can.’ He was speaking slowly, the buzzing returning at an all-time loud. ‘I just… didn’t think you would want to touch me. That’s pretty gross. Haven’t bathed.’

“Neither have I,” Alex said simply, “I pretty much always want to touch you.”

The buzzing, somehow, amplified.

Alex squeezed his eyes shut in response, the headache he had worsening because of it. Michael hadn’t mentioned the headache and Alex was beginning to wonder if he just always had a headache and that’s why it wasn’t phasing him. It would make sense if his brain was really that full all the time.

Instead of thinking too much about that, Alex took a big sip of his coffee and then sat it on the table.

“Alright, let’s get to work.”

The two of them got to work brainstorming which was much easier than it would’ve been if Michael was on the outside because Michael’s ideas that were hard to verbalize came across to Alex in concepts. Well‒easier in theory because Alex only had so much knowledge within Michael’s specialty.

But, nonetheless, they worked. And they worked. And hours went by and Michael was still stuck in his head and no matter how hard they worked, nothing happened.

By lunchtime, Alex was exhausted all over again and he was beginning to feel more than a bit frustrated. He just wanted Michael in his own body. Why couldn’t the universe just give him that one thing? That should be an easy fucking request.

“I hate this piece of shit,” Alex grumbled, carefully setting the alien tech down instead of throwing it across the room because that would presumably be very bad. He tilted his head back from where he was sitting on the floor by the couch, the back of his head resting against Michael’s thigh.

‘Maybe we should call Liz,’ Michael in his head suggested, not mentioning a single thing about where his head was. Alex’s hands rested carefully on his own thighs, pressing down each finger one at a time starting from his left pinky all the way to his right. This was fine.

“What do I say? That I accidentally robbed you of your subconscious and that you’re stuck in my brain and she’s basically lost her science partner because he’s in my fucking head and I’m not him and I’m useless and‒”

‘Alex,’ Michael said softly, in the same way Alex had said his name when he got to rambling, ‘You’re not useless. And this isn’t your fault. It’s not one’s fault, we didn’t know this was going to happen. So let’s just call her and see if she can come help.’

Alex breathed in deep and nodded slowly. He sat there unmoving for a moment after that. Michael’s buzzing was incessant and it was very clearly worried. It gave off the same energy that Michael had so many times before, just much different because it was in Alex’s head rather than on Michael’s face.

“I wish you could hug me,” Alex said softly. It felt like a simple, easy statement all things considered. Michael’s worried buzzing tapered off just a little.

‘I wish I could too.’

And they sat there, taking a break before they called Liz. She wasn’t in California anymore, having come back because there was just something about Roswell that refused to let you fucking leave. Or she missed her dad and her sister. One of the two options. So, at least they had that going for them.

Alex pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts and found Liz Ortecho sitting in his short list of 25 contacts. He hadn’t actually spoken to her in a while, not over the phone and not just the two of them. Once upon a time it would’ve upset him, but they were adults and they hadn’t been each other’s first priorities in a very long time. Alex wasn’t sure he’d ever been hers. But that was fine too because that’s what friendship was sometimes.

“Alex?” Liz answered like she was extremely confused to see him calling. Alex huffed a laugh despite nothing about his situation being funny. Not in the fucking slightest.

“So, I have a little situation that I don’t feel comfortable telling you over the phone,” Alex said. He knew she was rather easygoing about what she shared over the phone, but he wasn’t as trusting. Hell, he barely liked having his phone on him when he was doing things like this at all even with all of his protective shit on it. He knew how easy it was to be tracked, to be listened to. The only one who took his concerns seriously was Michael and Kyle. “Can you be at the cabin in less than an hour?”

“...what cabin?”

Alex sighed, “The old Valenti hunting cabin? Come on, I know you and Kyle probably hooked up here a lot when we were in high school.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah. I’ll be there. Should I bring anything?”

“Kyle.”

“Got it.”

Alex sighed as the call ended and dropped his phone. His eyes drifted over to Michael’s body, still and cold and catatonic. He reached out for his hand mindlessly and started to massage it carefully, working into all the muscles he knew still got sore on bad days. Not like they were sore now.

‘You don’t have to do this,’ Michael said, ‘You don’t have to…’

There was an implication, one that was rather insulting if Alex was asked. He never allowed his feelings to go unknown, not since his rather embarrassing display at the Wild Pony. It was Michael who needed to catch up; Alex hadn’t been hiding it.

“Do you want me to stop?” Alex asked again.

‘No,’ he said, ‘I just hate that I can’t feel it.’

“You will when you get back. You’ll be able to feel it then,” Alex said, a quiet promise that he would continue. He hoped that was good enough for Michael to understand.

They sat, waiting for Liz to show up and staying as calm as they physically could. Alex considered crawling beside him more than once but he felt that would just be too much. Too much whatever. Alex waited until he felt as at peace as he physically could be.

“Michael,” Alex called, “How did you take over my hand last night? You tried to explain it but I didn’t really understand.”

‘Basically, from my understanding, I just connected those parts of my psyche to your arm. Like when you’re laying in bed and you need to get up and so your brain tells your body to move. Like that, I guess, and I guess it was enough to take over yours.’

Alex blinked and breathed steadily, rolling his shoulders back and steeling himself.

“Try again,” Alex suggested.

‘What? No. No, I’m not doing that. You didn’t like that, I’m not doing that to you again.’

“You’re cooped up in my brain. Don’t you want to stretch out? I feel guilty that you’re trapped there. As long as you don’t take over my whole body and I know what you’re going to do, I think I’ll be okay,” Alex urged. Michael didn’t say anything right away. “I just feel bad. Just tell me what you’re going to do before you do it, okay?”

‘Are you sure?’

Alex nodded and kept his breaths steady, waiting for the moment Michael would decide to act. Maybe this was stupid and maybe he’d freak out again, but…

‘Okay, it’s gonna be your left arm, elbow down.’ Alex kept his breathing steady and used his right hand to continue holding onto Michael’s. He wasn’t clutching back and that made it feel a bit hollow, but that was alright. Michael was in him. One day when this was over, he’d probably make a joke about it. ‘Okay, ready?’

“Ready,” Alex agreed.

He swallowed as he felt his arm go numb and tingly as Michael took over. He kept his breathing even and held onto his hand and watched as Michael moved his fingers carefully, just stretching them around.

‘I’m gonna raise it, alright?’

“Alright.”

‘You’re doing so good, thank you for this.’

Alex nodded as watched as his hand rose and his wrist rolled. He could feel a bit of panic edging in him, but he held out. Michael used Alex’s thumb to trace each finger on his hand.

‘Can I touch you?’ Michael asked. Alex took a shaky breath and nodded again, not really trusting his voice. This whole thing was weird and slightly terrifying and slightly exhilarating at the same time. He’d never felt something quite like this before. He was pretty sure not many had. ‘Okay.’

His hand moved to his face, gently tracing over his nose and his cheek. Alex’s lips twitched and let out a heavy breath. Michael guided his hand over his jaw and to his neck, sliding over his shoulder and down his arm until he got to where Alex was holding Michael’s body’s hand. The hand Michael was controlling layered over them, squeezing the hand Alex still had.

‘Squeeze back,’ Michael requested. Alex did. It must’ve looked insane that he was just holding his own hand, but his heart was thudding in his chest at the reality of it.

“You know we’ve never held hands,” Alex pointed out, “Not for real.”

‘Yeah,’ Michael said softly, ‘We’re gonna.’

“We’re gonna?” Alex wondered, watching as the thumb Michael was controlling rubbed against the back of the hand he could feel.

‘We’re gonna. This doesn’t count.’

“Okay.”

Alex startled as his phone went off, alerting him that someone was within a half-mile of the cabin. Slowly, feeling came back to his hand and Michael was no longer in control of it. Alex took a few breaths to reset himself before putting Michael’s hand back on his side.

“We should go upstairs,” Alex said.

‘Do you feel okay?’

“Yeah,” Alex said even though he knew Michael could literally feel him. It was nice that he asked nonetheless.

Alex pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his empty mug before going to climb the ladder again. He needed to put stairs in or something because this was just getting annoying.

‘I’ll build you stairs,’ Michael offered. Alex tried not to get that warm and fuzzy feeling in response to that because this was very much not the time.

“Not necessary.”

‘I’m gonna.’

They got up to the cabin and Alex walked over to the kitchen, rinsing out his mug. He stared at the coffee maker for a few seconds before he reached over and dumped the grinds out and rinsed the mesh. Michael rambled about coffee grinds being good for compost or something and Alex nodded along, agreeing to wherever his train of thought was headed. He started another pot and then waited.

By the time Liz and Kyle showed up, Alex had already poured himself another cup and went to unlock the door. If he looked like he hadn’t slept (which he knew he did), they didn’t say anything as he let them in. Kyle did, however, reach to give him a short hug because they did that now. Alex still thought it was a little weird, but he appreciated the effort and sometimes he actively wanted the affection.

“So, what’s going on? Is Michael here? Because if not, you should’ve had me bring him,” Liz said. Alex huffed a laugh.

“Yeah, he’s definitely present,” he said. It wasn’t funny. Michael seemed amused anyway. “There’s no point in me beating around the bush or anything, so basically Michael fucked with a piece of tech, got stuck in it, and when I touched it he got stuck in my head.”

They stared at him.

“Like… you can’t stop thinking about him stuck or…” Liz trailed off. Alex snorted.

“No, like his entire psyche is currently existing in my head. He says hi and to tell you your haircut looks nice,” Alex said. He didn’t notice she even got a haircut. Their eyes widened. “We’ve messed around with the piece for hours and nothing is working, so we called you over.”

“Okay, um,” Liz breathed, nodding her head, “Yeah, absolutely. Just, like, give me a minute. This is insane. He’s really in your head? Where’s his body?”

“Downstairs. And, yeah, he’s really in my head,” Alex said.

A warm feeling started to burn in Alex’s stomach, one that he was rather certain didn’t belong to him. It still took him a minute to realize it was Michael’s and that was… a lot. Apparently, every other feeling of his Alex had felt was one they were sharing at the same time. Good to know that they were both guilty and existential as hell.

“Okay. Wow. Right. I’m going downstairs. I wish you would’ve warned me! I could’ve brought some more stuff,” Liz said as if she didn’t have a backpack full of things already. She headed down the ladder with no hesitation.

“And you’re okay?” Kyle asked, keeping his voice low. His eyebrows were pulled together in concern as he searched Alex’s face. “That’s like a major invasion of privacy. Are you sure he didn’t do this on purpose?”

‘Dude, what the fuck.’

Alex snorted, “You know he can hear you, right?”

Kyle blinked a few times and then very clearly decided he didn’t care because he eyed him very deliberately.

“Tell me if you need anything. I’ll get you some sedatives or whatever if we can’t figure this out because I know you haven’t slept,” Kyle said, squeezing his arm. Alex nodded in appreciation, but they both knew he wouldn’t be accepting anything. “Coffee fresh?”

“Yep, just brewed it.”

“And you’ve eaten lunch?”

“I will,” Alex said. Kyle raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “I will!”

“I’ll make you some toast and meet you down there with Liz,” Kyle decided and then headed into the kitchen. Alex rolled his eyes, but he listened without argument.

‘It still freaks me out how close you two are. It’s so weird. He’s still so punchable.’

“His jaws way more chiseled now, though, so it might hurt,” Alex pointed out, his words muffled around his coffee mug as he carefully made his way down the ladder.

“Huh?” Liz answered.

“Was talking to Michael,” Alex said and chose not to be embarrassed by it as he hit the floor. If he was, that would just be more than he could physically handle right now.

“Oh. Okay. Right,” Liz said, blinking as she stood up straighter, “Sorry, this is just so weird.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty weird for me too,” Alex said.

His eyes drifted to Michael’s body where Liz had clearly already gotten started. She was questionably comfortable with his body, having already taken a blood sample and written down his current state in detail in her notebook. Sometimes she worried Alex with this whole thing, but Michael didn’t seem to have any arguments.

‘She’s basically like my best friend after you. We’ve done a million experiments on each other, so I don’t really care what she does to me,’ Michael explained anyway. Alex nodded and let him continue to think about what she was going to do. He could tell this was going to be rather exhausting having to play translator, but he supposed it was worth it.

“Okay, so, he’s stable. It’s obviously a different kind of stasis than the pod, but he is in stasis. I checked his blood under his microscope and all of his blood cells are basically frozen in time. Oh, I need to check his hair and his skin cells. This is insane,” Liz rambled. Alex could feel Michael’s residual excitement start to build in his body. He almost felt bad he couldn’t enjoy this with her.

For Michael’s benefit, even though it made him uncomfortable, Alex looked under the microscope at the frozen cells. His skin cells were equally frozen and his hair‒well, his hair looked like all hair does, but Michael seemed to think it looked different and he would just accept that.

Liz picked up the piece and marveled at it for a moment, grinning wildly. Alex felt himself doing the same solely based on Michael’s emotions which was, honestly, too much. He tried not to think about it too much. If he didn’t, he wasn’t sure anything would get done.

Alex very quickly realized that he couldn’t keep up with Michael’s thoughts and his headache was strengthening by the second even after he ate the toast Kyle decided to force-feed him. He, however, kept that to a minimum and tried to carry a conversation with Liz by repeating Michael. He made it a good thirty minutes before he hit a point where he wasn’t making sense due to Michael’s brain saying three different things while Alex was talking.

“Okay, wait, stop,” Alex said, dropping his head in his hand. It was throbbing and Michael hadn’t said anything. “What the fuck, does your head hurt all the time?”

‘More times than not, yeah,’ Michael answered. Alex shook his head and rubbed his temples. ‘I’m sorry. Do you have medicine? Nothing usually works on me outside of acetone and that only dulls it. I’m sure something works on you, though, right? Do you have ibuprofen? I know you have Tylenol upstairs in the bathroom, but I’m not sure if that would work and maybe it’d make you tired and you’re already tired enough which would make things a little bit more difficult since we’re trying to‒’

“Michael. Please,” Alex whispered. He stopped rambling where Alex could hear, but the buzzing never stopped. Liz and Kyle, on the other hand, were silent. “Kyle, can you go get my Aleve from upstairs?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Kyle said, his footsteps rather quickly heading up the ladder.

Alex sat there for a moment, rubbing his temples and breathing. This time, he could feel the separation from his own guilt and nerves and Michael’s guilt and nerves and he could feel where they blended. He needed a fucking nap.

“Alex, do you need a break?” Liz asked. Alex huffed a laugh.

“Are you going to figure it without me translating for him?” he asked. Liz didn’t answer and that was answer enough.

Alex took a deep breath and lowered himself to the floor beside the couch. He could feel the guilty, yet restless energy burning within him that all belonged to Michael. He wished he was out and so he could watch him ramble, watch him pace, just watch.

‘What can I do?’ Michael asked.

“Nothing,” Alex responded. Liz, by now, caught on that he was simply talking to himself.

Kyle returned with a glass of water and a doctor-approved tweak of Aleve. Alex took it graciously, downed the rest of the water, and then returned his head to his hands.

They’d barely made any progress, namely because they didn’t know where to start other than the piece which Alex and Michael had already worked with. Alex, under Michael’s instruction, had gotten out the other pieces in hopes that would solve the problem, but that hadn’t made a difference.

Maybe they were stuck like this.

‘We aren’t stuck,’ Michael said, ‘I’m getting my body back.’

Alex felt when his breath hitched and felt when tears pricked his eyes. He brought his knee in closer and bowed his head against it so he could at least pretend he wasn’t losing it. But he was. He was overwhelmed and fucking terrified and he wanted Michael.

‘Alex,’ Michael said, ‘If anyone can figure this out, it’s us, alright? Just take a breath and I’ll try to dial it back. I’m sorry.’

‘You shouldn’t have to apologize for just existing as yourself. This just isn’t fair,’ Alex thought back at him, not really eager to let Kyle and Liz in on their conversation. Part of him was still scared this would make it harder to keep his thoughts to himself, but, after their dreams, he was beginning to feel like it didn’t matter.

‘It’s not fair. Not at all. But maybe there’s a reason for it? Like, why would this exist if there wasn’t a reason for it, you know? Why would they make it if it was just a torture mechanism?’ Michael asked. Alex bit the inside of his cheek. ‘I’m trying to think of what use this could have.’

‘Couples therapy?’ Alex offered. Michael’s amusement lit him up for a moment, a silent acknowledgment that he’d probably laugh if he had a body to do it with. ‘Missions, maybe? Or coaching. It’s an effective communication device.’

‘Maybe when they were coming here they only had space for so many people, so they had some people leave their body on their planet,’ Michael suggested.

‘Maybe. We probably won’t ever know. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ Michael said, but they were both keenly aware that it wasn’t actually okay that they knew so little, ‘I just need to get back into my own body.’

“What’s the next step?” Alex asked.

‘Give us the rest of the day to try and figure this out and, if not, then we might have to call Isobel in,’ Michael said at the same time Liz responded with, “I think we should keep trying and if we can’t figure it out by tonight, we get Max and Isobel to see if they can think of anything.”

Alex huffed a laugh and raised his head.

“Okay. Let’s keep trying.”

Hours later, Alex found himself in his bathroom again. This time he was a little more determined to actually bathe. He felt gross and just needed something to make him feel better. The food and medicine Kyle gave him only helped so much and their constant stream of failures didn’t make any of it better.

Kyle and Liz with apologetic faces, but they had a clear determination to want to continue trying to figure it out. However, the four of them agreed to bring in Isobel and Max because this very clearly was going to need some more alien reinforcement.

“I’m really not looking forward to Isobel being in my head,” Alex sighed, leaning over to turn on the faucet. He felt until the water was hot before plugging the drain and sat himself down on his stool to wait for the tub to fill.

‘I know, but I’m hoping she’ll be able to see something we can’t. We aren’t really in a mindscape right now. Maybe she’ll see a way to put me back,’ Michael encouraged. Alex sighed and unbuttoned his jeans.

“I get why we need her, I just don’t know what I’m going to have control over. And, no offense, but I don’t really trust Isobel to be respectful or quiet about anything she does see,” Alex admitted. Michael’s instant understanding and agreement was palpable.

‘I’ll try to make sure she keeps it to herself. She’s getting better,’ Michael said. Alex sighed and hoped he was right.

Alex pulled off his jeans and tossed them into his hamper and went to his prosthetic. Thinking about his hesitation from last night almost felt ridiculous‒as if Michael would say anything about him bathing‒but he knew the circumstances tonight were a little different. He felt different.

Once his prosthetic was removed completely, he put it outside the bathroom door and then closed it. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed that with his jeans and then closed his eyes. His head still hurt and he was exhausted, but he needed to bathe. He was gross. Michael, for his part, stayed quiet for the first time since that morning. It was honestly a blessing though he felt guilty about it.

The bathtub got to where Alex wanted it and he shut off the water, moved to take off his boxers. He threw them alongside his other clothes and then skillfully moved himself onto the ledge of the tub. Alex swiveled around and put his foot in the bath before slowly lowering himself in. He could feel his muscles instantly reacting to the warm water. He needed this.

Alex sunk into the water until it touched his chin and closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth of it. There was something endlessly lonely about having someone you love stuck in your brain and not being able to touch them. It was cruel, almost.

Michael’s buzzing seemed to calm a bit as they sat there in nothing but the hot water and each other’s company. Alex had imagined bathing with him more than once and never had it crossed his mind that the first time he would get the chance, Michael’s body wouldn’t be there to experience it. They were having too many firsts this way.

All of them led right back to being too close, too much, too aware. He hated it and yet he had never felt more seen by Michael Guerin in his entire life.

Cruel and laughable.

‘Alex,’ Michael said, soft and warm like he had late the night before, ‘Can I use your hand? The same one as earlier. I just… wanna try something.’

Alex’s heart picked up speed in the same way it had when he held his hand and he nodded without hesitation.

His left arm tingled and then went numb as Michael took over. The hand Michael was in control of glided across the top of the water and then rested over his heart. He rubbed his hand into his skin, slowly making his way up to his neck and over his jaw. Michael felt over his features again, only this time focusing on his lips.

His thumb pressed into Alex’s bottom lip and slowly dragged his mouth open. Alex huffed a laugh and opened it further, letting Michael press the pad of his thumb against his tongue. Alex bit down gently and felt a burst of adoration flood through him. It stole his breath for a moment.

Michael pulled out of his mouth slowly and slid back down to his chest and then to the arm Alex still had control over. He felt over his bicep and his forearm, feeling each muscle as if they were something to behold on their own which really only had Alex’s picking up speed.

‘Why have I never taken my time with you before?’ Michael asked. They both knew. Neither of them said anything.

Alex tilted his head back and closed his eyes as Michael’s fingers dragged over his neck and then dipped beneath the water. He traced over his chest and his stomach, slow and curious despite the familiarity of it. Michael touched his thigh and dragged his fingertips up and down before sliding between his thighs.

Alex caught his wrist and Michael obediently paused.

“Michael,” Alex whispered, his breathing noticeably heavier as he tried his damnedest to ignore the tight, warm feeling in his stomach, “Michael.”

‘Yeah?’

“What happens if we can’t figure it out?” Alex asked, “What happens if you’re stuck?”

‘Don’t think like that,’ Michael answered.

“We have to think like that. Eventually, we’re going to have to go back to work, eventually, we’re going to have to pretend to carry on. What happens if you’re still stuck in my head?” Alex demanded.

‘Don’t think like that,’ Michael repeated, ‘It won’t come to that. We will fix it.’

“But what if we can’t?”

‘Alex, listen to me. No matter what happens, I won’t be stuck in your head for the rest of your life. This is temporary regardless of what that means for me. I’m not making your life miserable.’

Alex breathed out like he’d been hit. He didn’t ask what that meant. He didn’t ask how long Michael was willing to try. He didn’t ask anything.

“I miss you,” Alex breathed, “I want… I want‒”

‘I know. Me too.’

They sat there for a moment with that and Alex wanted to say he loved him, just in case. But they had time. They had to have time.

And he didn’t want any more firsts this way.

Alex let go of his wrist and Michael’s hand rested on his legs. He let his eyes close again and tried to relax as Michael moved again. Alex almost expected him to reach between his thighs again, and yet Michael just rested his hand on his face.

Michael cradled his jaw in his hand and rubbed his thumb over his cheek slow and methodically. Alex squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into the touch. If he kept his eyes closed and if he focused hard enough, he could almost feel his breath on the back of his neck.

‘I’m here. I’ve got you.’

Alex woke up long before his alarm again.

Dreams of angry foster parents bled into dreams of angry drill sergeants bled into active battle bled into his father with any object he could get his hand on. It was miserable and Alex had to wonder why they couldn’t have a nice dream. Just one. On where Alex could pretend to touch him again and he’d be warm.

Despite having Michael in his head, Alex couldn’t help but feel even more lonely than he had when he climbed into bed. They’d tried to shut off the lights with his telekinesis again before bed and it was a little more painful than the first time and Michael vowed not to use it again and he’d gone quiet. And Alex was lonely.

“You know what’s crazy? It’s only been, like, 36 hours. Why does it feel so much longer?” Alex whispered, voice deep from sleep.

‘Because it has been longer. I was practically living in your house and yet I didn’t do anything. I wasted so much time,’ Michael said. Alex wanted to argue, but he found himself not having much to add. They had wasted so much time and now they weren’t even sure what time they would have.

“Me too.”

‘No, Alex, you’ve known what you wanted for a year now at least. You’ve made it clear. I kept trying to wait for, like, a moment when it felt right. And I’m beginning to think it just never felt right because I wasn’t with you. Self-defeating cycle or whatever,’ Michael said, very clearly annoyed in the emotions that filled him.

“You’re allowed to take your time.”

‘But I was never going to be perfectly ready. I’m always going to struggle. But I could’ve had you. God, I was so lonely and you were right there.’

“I’m here now,” Alex whispered. Michael’s self-deprecation was louder than Alex was willing to take.

He laid in bed for a few seconds longer before he got up and reached for his crutches. He was lonely. Michael was lonely. This was so stupid and ridiculous and he hated every goddamn thing about it. He just wanted him back. Was that such a hard request?

Clearly, it was. The universe didn’t want them to have anything.

Alex made his way to the bunker and ignored the worry Michael was experiencing as he slid his crutches down the ladder. He made sure they landed out of the way before heading down himself, hopping down one rung at a time while having his arms carry the brunt of his weight. Michael managed not to say anything.

Once he hit the ground, Alex picked up his crutches again and made his way to the couch where Michael’s body was. He rested his crutches down on the floor and then gently pulled the alien tech off of Michael to put it on the counter. Then he pulled the corner of the blanket up and crawled inside.

‘Alex,’ Michael whispered, sounding almost pitiful. Alex just cuddled closer. He was cold and unbreathing and it was unsettling as hell, but it was Michael.

Of all the things they hadn’t done, they had done this. Alex had slept with his head on his shoulder or his chest more than once. Michael had slept fully on top of him even more. They always slept well together. Even when the nightmares came, there was a safety in having another body to hold. And so Alex held him.

He tugged Michael’s limp arm around him and layered his hand over his to keep it on his hip. He rested his head on his chest and draped his leg over Michael’s thighs. Then Alex closed his eyes.

‘Get some sleep, Alex,’ Michael said, ‘I’ll hold you for real soon.’

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Alex murmured.

‘I fully plan to keep it. Get some rest.’

And Alex did. He never actually fell asleep hard enough to actually dream which was both great and terrible. He was still tired when he opened his eyes again, but he didn’t have any dreams to add to the list and that in itself was refreshing. Michael was still a cold, unmoving rock beneath him. Alex didn’t move.

He laid there for a long time, rubbing circles in his chest with his thumb.

Eventually, Alex made his way upstairs to get presentable whenever he realized Liz, Kyle, Max, and Isobel were probably on their way. Michael was quiet in his mind, but the ever-present buzzing wasn’t gone so he took that as a good sign.

Alex got dressed and brushed his teeth and got his prosthetic on and managed to even eat breakfast by the time they pulled up.

‘It’s gonna be okay. Hopefully, we’ll figure it out today,’ Michael said. Alex sighed and nodded, sipping his coffee as he unlocked the door.

“Hopefully.”

“So you trapped my brother in your brain?” Isobel greeted. Alex managed a smile.

“Good morning to you too.”

“Can he hear us?” she wondered, eyeing Alex. He nodded easily. “Michael, this was a really weird way for you to try and get a boyfriend.”

‘That’s not what happened!’

“He said that’s not what happened,” Alex repeated. Isobel rolled her eyes like she didn’t buy it. Alex was too ready to get this over with to argue. “Let’s go downstairs and you can see what you need to do. There’s coffee in the kitchen if you guys want any.”

No one went and got coffee.

By the time they made it down to the bunker and Alex sat on the floor beside the couch, he found himself feeling like a spectacle. They were all staring at him and Michael with confusion and fear and pity‒and he was more than slightly miserable about it. Michael murmured encouraging words, but it only did so much.

“I hate seeing him like that,” Isobel said, suddenly a lot less flippant now that she was actually seeing Michael laid out and unbreathing and cold. Alex watched a series of emotions cross her face and couldn’t help but think about how this was the second brother she was seeing look dead.

‘I’m not dead. I’m going to be okay,’ Michael insisted. Alex nodded. He hoped he was right.

“Me too. Can we get started?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Isobel said. She quickly knelt beside him and beside the couch.

‘Wait, before she starts, we all three should be holding the piece,’ Michael said quickly. Alex licked his lips and nodded.

“Michael says we should hold the piece. And, Kyle, stand by to check vitals whenever he comes to. Max, just be ready to do your little healing thing just in case,” Alex instructed. Kyle nodded and Max opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was immediately shut down by Liz and Isobel simultaneously glaring at him. Then he nodded.

Alex took a deep breath as grabbed the piece. He pulled Michael’s hand off the couch to touch it as well and Isobel grabbed onto the other end. Alex locked eyes with Isobel and instantly started to feel her trying to pry. Instinct and training told him not to let her.

‘Alex. Relax. I’m right here. It’s gonna be okay,’ Michael coaxed. He kept whispering sweet words of encouragement and Alex did his best to let himself go as he started at Isobel.

Slowly but surely, he phased out of consciousness and into where she wanted him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, what is this?”

Alex was sitting cross-legged on a bench of some sort and everything around them was pitch black. Well, mostly. Isobel was far to his right and across from him was Michael. To his left, the piece floated and lit the empty space well enough that he could see their faces. Isobel was fully mobile and aware, but Michael seemed to be just as catatonic as he was in real life.

“Why does he look like that?” Alex asked, “He’s obviously awake, I’ve been hearing him in my head.”

“I don’t know, why does your mindscape look like this? I’ve never been in one that’s all black before,” Isobel commented.

Alex could barely give her the time of day as he stared at Michael. It took him a moment but he eventually realized he was vibrating so quickly it was hard to catch. No wonder there was incessant buzzing. Alex wanted to reach out to him, to touch him, but he couldn’t seem to move.

“Jesus, this place is ridiculous, I feel like I’m walking in tar,” Isobel said. Alex finally looked at her and she was moving, but it was in slow motion. It was really fucking frustrating.

“I think it’s because I don’t want you to see anything,” Alex admitted. Isobel scoffed.

“Well, will you let up enough for me to try and fix this?” she demanded. Alex swallowed and looked at Michael and then to the piece. He really didn’t want to.

“Tell me what the plan is first,” Alex said. Despite how irritated she very clearly was, Isobel gave him an answer.

“I’m going to lead Michael to the piece and then I’m going to get out of your mindscape and then go into his and lead him away. That sounds like the easiest route,” Isobel said. Alex bit his bottom lip as he stared at Michael. That did sound like the easiest route. And that’s primarily what made him nervous.

He didn’t like doing this without hearing Michael’s opinion.

“Listen, Alex, maybe if you let up, he’ll be more aware and we can ask what he thinks we should do,” Isobel said. Alex stayed quiet for a moment.

He made his decision quietly while staring at the blurred outline of Michael’s body. Light started to filter into the space and Isobel’s movement was made a bit easier as she headed to Michael. As the light flooded in, so did memories.

Michael’s voice‒never with someone I like as much as I like you. Alex’s voice‒you’re mine. His father’s voice‒too many to pick out anything in particular. Isobel glanced over at him as his father’s voice started to overpower Alex’s own thoughts.

“Stop it, focus on him,” Alex said. Isobel took a breath and nodded.

Michael’s blurred figure slowly opened his eyes, blinking and tired. Alive. The sight alone was enough to bring him a bit of comfort. Alex listened as Isobel ran her plan by him and he nodded, glancing over at Alex. He gave a smile and Alex couldn’t help but give one right back.

In the background, his own voice and Michael’s voice overpowered his father’s.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Michael told him, echo-y and honest. Alex nodded.

“And I’ll see you.”

Michael took Isobel’s hand and she swiftly led him over to the piece with practiced ease. She gave one more glance around Alex’s mindscape before she waved and everything went black again.

Alex opened his eyes to see both Isobel and Michael still out of it. Michael’s buzzing no longer filled his head.

Alex gave a breath of relief and slumped back, his hands bracing against the floor as he waited.

It was painfully quiet as they all watched Isobel and Michael hold onto the piece with bated breaths. It worked. Hopefully. It was working. Michael wasn’t in his head. That was good. This was good. Things were going in the right direction.

Or he thought that until Isobel opened her eyes and let go of the piece. She didn’t look satisfied or relieved as she stared at Michael’s body. His still, cold, unbreathing body. They all waited.

“Where is he?” Alex asked after a moment, “Why isn’t he waking up?”

“He… He said he could do it on his own. I thought he had it…” Isobel said softly. Alex choked on air and stared at her with wide eyes.

“Well go back in and see where he’s at! Maybe he got lost!” Alex demanded. She didn’t look his way as she stared at her brother.

“No, I saw him leave. If he’s not there, then I don’t know…” Isobel trailed off.

In an instant, Alex was on his knees and trying his best to avoid the piece as he shook Michael’s shoulders.

“Wake up,” he told him, “Wake up, you promised me you’d see me.”

A few more seconds passed without him and Isobel scrambled back to grab Max’s arm, tugging him forward. She was snapping at him to do something, but Alex could barely hear as he shook him. He needed him to wake up.

“Alex, move, I’m gonna try to get up, but if you’re touching him it could hurt you,” Max said. Alex moved away faster than he logically should’ve, but Max quickly stepped in and put his hand over his heart.

Before any funky alien healing could happen, though, Michael’s eyes opened and he took a deep breath.

“Fuck, my head hurts.”

And for the first time in days, Alex laughed.

After Michael insisted he was fine, let Liz and Kyle take vitals, and insisted he was fine some more, they eventually gave them some space under the condition that Michael had to get lunch with Isobel after he got some rest.

The house was quiet, the doors were locked, and the sun was shining through the windows as Alex sat on his bed and Michael sat across from him. They were both changed into nightclothes and staring at each other, feeling familiar in a completely new way. Alex had no doubt that his joy was nothing but his own.

It was nice to have quiet in his mind again. Nicer to have Michael here. Even nicer than that, to have Michael be on the same page.

“Alex,” Michael said, slowly like he was testing the word in his mouth again. Alex found himself smiling a bit too wide.

“Michael,” Alex said back. Michael smiled just as wide. “In the nicest way possible, I never want to get near your brain ever again.”

Michael laughed softly and, fuck, it was a nice sound. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it.

“And in the nicest way possible, I never want to be stuck inside you ever again,” Michael said. His tongue pressed behind his teeth as he smirked. “I mean, not in that way, at least.”

Alex shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“When are you going to touch me with your own hands?” Alex asked. Michael sat up a little straighter.

“I thought we were meant to take a nap.”

“Why can’t we do both?”

Michael didn’t need to be asked a second time as he lunged forward, easily pressing Alex into the mattress. For the first time in a long time, Alex was kissed without hesitation and without a time limit and without restrictions. He was kissed like he was known and loved by someone he knew and loved.

Michael’s hands gripped his sides and slowly slid up, feeling him and gripping him tightly. He settled between Alex’s thighs and kissed him breathless and touched him anywhere he could reach. Even the way he grabbed his knee and his elbows felt like gentle caresses, carefully and deliberately.

“I am going to take my time with you,” Michael whispered into his mouth, “And I am going to savor every minute of it.”

Alex grinned and tugged him closer, wanting to have every inch of himself pressed against every inch of Michael. He was warm and breathing and his heart was beating. All things Alex would never take for granted.

“I’m going to put in the work this time, Alex,” Michael promised, pulling Alex off the bed just enough to grab the blanket and throw it over them. With a tilt of the head and no ridiculous reaction at all, the light shut off and the curtains closed and it was just them. Separate, but together. “This time I’m not wasting time.”

“Me neither,” Alex hummed. Michael’s hands slid beneath his shirt, over his bare stomach and chest, and breathed him in.

“I love you,” Michael said, honest and out loud, “And I know you know that I love you, but I love you. So much.”

“I love you too,” Alex said, “And I know you know that I love you, but I love you.”

Michael grinned and wrapped his arms around him, slowly lowering himself as he left a trail of kisses from his mouth to his neck. His head hit Alex’s shoulder and his body relaxed on top of his. Fully and completely.

Because he was here. And he was breathing. And he was his.

And Alex finally fell asleep.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #alex + body

97 notes · View notes

stxrrywildflower · 4 years

Text

intern

pairing - bau team x teen!reader

summary - you intern for garcia at the bau

warnings - mentions of case

word count - ?

note - takes place during season 7 around 2011

you knew penelope from the minute you were born.

both of your parents were extremely close, living just a few short blocks away in san francisco. penelope was only 17 when you were born, you instantly becoming her new favorite person. her mom was even named as your godmother.

when penelope’s parents had died, yours had looked after her even though she did go underground as a hacker. despite how much penelope had changed, she was always there to check up on you and your parents.

and then she had gotten caught by the fbi of all people.

you were far to young to even comprehend what was happening. all you could remember was penelope hugging you tightly before she left. the two of you kept in contact by letters ever since that day.

now 17, you were an expert with computers. penelope was your guide, helping you learn to hack everything and anything as well as your way with all technology.

adding on to that, you were incredibly smart, taking all advanced placement courses at school. one of your classes was an internship, you had to find a local company to spend a certain number of hours a week in order to earn credit.

when penelope hears the news, mostly since she had access to your course schedule, she pulled a couple strings.

before you knew it, you were booked to have an internship with the behavioral analysis unit in washington d.c. under penelope garcia. aaron hotchner would be your ‘boss’ as he was the unit chief.

your parents were incredibly supportive, working out the details for you to stay with penelope for the semester and possibly part of the summer.

with multiple bags packed and a plane ticket booked, you were set to leave for washington d.c. in just a few short days.

____

arriving at quantico, you were more than nervous.

a car was arranged to pick you up from the airport, an agent named anderson picked you up to bring you to the bau. from there, you would be able to see penelope, meet with hotch, and get your proper paperwork and badge.

you could tell from the second you stepped in that your presence was out of place. a teenager was rarely in the bau, nonetheless one few people could connect to someone on the team.

“alright this is the floor you will be working on. garcia’s office is down the hall but through those doors over there is what we call the bullpen. that’s where the main teams desks are as well as where they do briefings,” anderson spoke, giving you a mini-tour.

“and the staring?” you asked. “that will stop soon. once they see you with agent hotchner they’ll back off. as much as i want to defend your case, i can’t say i wouldn’t act the same. this is the first teenager working at the fbi ever,” anderson informed you. “oh wow, didn’t know i was making history.”

“yeah you are, and I'm sure-” he was cut off.

“penny!” you exclaimed, rushing forward to hug the tech analyst, your luggage remaining behind you.

anderson smiled to himself, waving towards garcia before heading back to work.

“i’ve missed you so much sweetie,” penelope grinned, matching your enthusiasm. you hugged her for a little longer, overjoyed to see her after months.

morgan was next in the hallway, hugging you once penelope let go. “hey kid, how are you? school okay?” he questioned, ruffling your hair. “everything’s good derek, i’m just stoked to be here,” you grinned.

the rest of the team, to say the least, was extremely confused. there were a ton of questions running through their heads as the scene played out.

“maybe it’s morgan and garcia’s secret love child,” emily snickered, spencer and j.j. laughing too.

“i can take your bags down to my lair and we can bring them to my place after work,” penelope offered. “and i can take you in to meet hotch,” morgan piped in.

you kept your backpack with you, the three of you splitting up. morgan stayed by your side, guiding you into the bullpen.

the two of you couldn’t have been in the main roof for more than a few minutes before who you assumed was hotch was down to greet you.

“welcome y/n y/l/n, it’s nice to finally meet you,” hotch greeted, extending his hand for you to shake. you took it, nodding with a “nice to meet you too sir.”

“please, call me hotch. we can talk up in my office,” with one final smile towards morgan, you were following the into chief up for your meeting.

“so how do you know garcia?” hotch first asked.

“she’s pretty much my godmother, her mom was my official one before she passed. our parents were friends so i’ve known her for most of my life,” you explained, a smile on your face. “she taught me to hack when i was only 10.”

hotch nodded, “and you’re seventeen, correct? have you committed to any colleges?”

you shook your head no. “not yet sir. i’ve been accepted to a few but haven’t made any final decision. pennelope is pushing me to go to school around here though.”

“i’m sure wherever you go will be a good fit. but now, we have to get into some of the more official stuff. how are you managing school with this inteenship?”

“my teachers moved all of my classes online with virtual lessons and work. penelope and i have already worked out a schedule so i can focus on my work here and do schoolwork at night,” you explained.

hotch was obviously satisfied with his answer so he continued, “now with your internship, we don’t expect you to work cases with us right away. it is mostly just learning under garcia. once you feel comfortable enough and get a recommendation, you can move up.”

you nodded along, taking in the information about your job. “i can take you down to get your badge and then you can meet the team,” hotch offered. “sounds perfect.”

photos and paperwork didn’t take more than twenty minutes. you were back up, a crisp new badge clipped on your jacket, soon enough.

“my team,” hotch called. “conference room.”

with his usual ‘unit chief’ tone, no one bother to argue with him. adding on to your interaction with three out of seven members, changes were obviously happening.

you were seated on top of one of the file cabinets, morgan beside you and penelope next to him. your conversation died down once more people entered the room.

both you and morgan quickly got down, wanting to look at least a little bit professional.

“everyone, i would like you to meet our newest team member, y/n y/l/n. she’ll be interning under penelope and helping out on cases,” hotch inteoduced.

you waved to everyone, a slight smile forming on your face. “from left to right is reid, prentiss, rossi, and j.j. and your already know garcia and morgan,” hotch pointed out each individual member.

“wait i’m not following. you know morgan and garcia?” rossi asked.

“my parents knew penelope’s for a long time. i grew up with penelope pretty much as an older sister. and i know morgan since he’s visited home a few times,” you explained.

the team was already eager to get to know you, having a fresh face around, nonetheless one that was only 17, would definitely be nice. so, for your first day, you were pestered with questions. you already fit well with the team, a new member being added to their little family without problem.

____

your first week was pretty much just learning the basics of how the computers in garcia’s lair actually operated. you had your own little station in one of the corners, a few computers and monitors set up for you to work with.

two weeks in, you had your first real assignment.

it wasn’t by choice, you were supposed to start working with the gory stuff in two weeks, or a month of working there.

you absolutely loved the job with the team. oftentimes, you found yourself hanging out with either emily or j.j. for dinner and time with sergio and or henry. you went on morning runs with morgan, the two of you constantly sending each other new routes to run on. spencer helped you with your homework, planning a schedule for the idea work time like it was no issue. if you ever had a problem with school, he would always help you figure it out.

rossi found a new sense of joy in teaching you to cook. you grew up in san francisco, eating a lot of sea food and not much else. rossi changed that, making you various pasta dishes to try as well as the recipient. and hotch, hotch became an overall mentor and pretty much another dad to you. while spencer helped you with work, hotch would keep you in line with everything.

the latest case was pretty intensive on you and penelope. you did as much work as you could, you still weren’t officially clear to handle crime scene information just yet.

the one time penelope was out of her office getting coffee for the two of you, her office phone had started ringing. you quickly pushed away from your desk, your chair rolling across the floor until you were in front of hers.

“office of the most talented and magical members of the bau here. how may i help you?” you greeted. “man garcia is really rubbing off on you,” you chose to ignore that comment.

“speaking of garcia, where is she?”

you sighed, “getting coffee. what do you need?” hotch was quick to answer, “i need you too look up an unsub. name is roger clark.”

in lightning speed, you clicked away at the computer as you dug up information on the man.

“ah here his is. clark rogers was born to a frank and mary rogers. was a normal child, played sports and graduated with honors. did have a case of aggravated assault in college though he got off free since his dad was a lawyer. oh shoot, his mom died a few weeks ago,” you quickly explained.

something about a possible trigger as barely audible in the background of the call. “we need a location asap,” emily spoke.

“oh i’ve has the location sent from the minute you called,” you leaned back in your chair, most of your work already done.

hotch actually had one of his rare smiles on his face after that. “thanks so much,” he spoke. “stay safe,” you called before hanging up the call.

little did you know, your work was more than helpful. though it was minimal, small details you had provided actually proved to be useful in taking down the unsub. even penelope, who heard news of everything once she returned, was thoroughly impressed. it wasn’t super easy finding out that information as fast as you could.

all you knew is that you were guaranteed a job once you graduated.

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @tinylumpiaa @sapphicspence @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @change-the-world-someday @ah-blossom @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @kissessforharryyy @garcias-batcave @spenceneedsahug @jjandreidsgirl @zoseph @spencerreidxoxo @marvelxmendes @kissessfordraco @ogmilkis @cm-is-kinda-cool @ssa-morgan @matthewgublerswife @spencerslatte @babyangellee @agentshortstacc

#criminal #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi #penelope garcia #luke alvez #matt simmons #tara lewis #bau team #bau team x teen reader

690 notes · View notes

sunnyrosewritesstuff · 3 years

Text

Day 6 Birthday Plot Bunnies 2

If you want this to become my next WIP, be sure to shower it with lots of love!! 🥰 💖 All the story starters will be linked back to this masterpost.

Title: A Walk on the Other Side

Summary: Bilbo is a FBI profiler and rather enjoys his desk job when a strange case comes across his desk hinting towards the FBI's most wanted: Smaug. As soon as he makes this connection, he is approached by notorious crime lord, Oakenshield, in an attempt to get him to work for him. Bilbo’s world gets flipped upside down by the suave man, and he may not be a dirty cop, but he does have a personal investment in making sure Smaug is put behind bars.

Bilbo Baggins was not exactly the first person you pictured when you heard the acronym “FBI”. He was a little too short, a little too pudgy, and enjoyed his sweater vests immensely. Yet, he’s been his department’s top analyst for the last fourteen years. He may not be one of the showy field officers (messy, nasty work that), but what Bilbo did was not any less important. In fact, if it wasn’t for analysts like Bilbo, a lot of times the “gunslinging action” wouldn’t take place at all. A rather unpopular opinion but true.

It was shaping into a relatively normal Thursday for Bilbo. They had just finished up a debrief over their latest embezzlement case. He was starting to suspect they were dealing with a serial embezzler. It was different locations, different methods, and different amounts, but there was something about the case that clicked in Bilbo’s mind. He was almost to his desk when he noticed a large manila envelope was draped over his keyboard. He raised an eyebrow as he carefully lifted the sticky note attached to it.

Have a look at these files for me? I know I’m missing something. Call me when you figure it out. -GG

Bilbo plopped into his uncomfortable rolling chair with a sigh. Gandalf was his old AD before he switched departments. And unfortunately, anything with Gandalf’s name on it was usually trouble for Bilbo. He tapped his fingers on the desk and spun back and forth in his chair for a bit when his eyes landed on his mother’s picture on his desk. She was in uniform hugging him at his college graduation. He knew exactly what she would want him to do. Heaving a groan, he pulled the damn envelope towards him and started looking over the files.

Arsons? Those didn’t usually fall under Gandalf’s jurisdiction. His eyes skimmed the reports, not sure exactly what Gandalf was expecting him to do. The evidence was fairly cut and dry. What’s more is the local police caught a suspect that seemed substantially to blame. Case closed. However, if Gandalf thought there was more, he should probably check it twice. It was actually the third time that he caught it. The papers hit his desk as his mind reeled. No...surely it wasn’t? Now he really needed to make sure.

He laid the photos out side by side circling the origin of the fires in each picture. His hand was shaking when he was done. This was big. This was FBI’s most wanted big. He didn’t even bother writing up a report. He immediately got on the server and sent a one-word email to Gandalf.

Smaug.

It was thirty after six when Bilbo finally packed up his work to head back home. His mind had been racing all afternoon, and all he wanted was to be put on the arson case. However, Gandalf never replied to his email, never called, nothing. First thing he was going to do when he got home after feeding Myrtle was grab a beer from the fridge and call the older man. Even if Gandalf wouldn’t let him be part of the team, he deserved to know what happened with that bastard.

Bilbo’s townhouse wasn’t exactly what you would call grand, but he enjoyed it greatly. It had the cosy atmosphere of his childhood cottage while still being rent efficient in a quiet neighborhood. It was a slight commute to work, but well worth it. He unlocked the door and flipped on the lights to the front room as he toed off his shoes and set his messenger bag down. He was just getting ready to move into the kitchen to get some cat food down for Myrtle when he froze. There was a man in his house.

“So you’re Mr. Baggins.” His low voice purred in amusement as he looked him up and down. “You look more like a grocer than an agent.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to scream when the man whipped out a Sig Sauer.

“Don’t.” He ordered calmly. “I only want to talk.”

Bilbo’s eyes hardened as he quickly took in details for a sketch artist. Tall, likely over six foot. Lean, except for he’s slightly broader in the shoulders. Tailored suit. Slicked back dark hair but graying at the sides, hooded blue eyes, well-trimmed beard and mustache. Almost as if he knew exactly what Bilbo was doing, the man smirked before nodding towards the sitting room. Bilbo moved slowly and deliberately as he sank down onto his armchair. The man unbuttoned his jacket before taking the spot on the couch. He set the gun down in front of him on the coffee table. A peace offering, but also a signal that it was within reach if he needed it. Bilbo’s blood was pounding as he forced his dry throat to work.

“What do you want?”

“Gandalf told me you have the information I need.”

Bilbo cocked his head in confusion as his mind raced to process the loaded answer. This man knew Gandalf. He talked to him recently. He knew Smaug.

“What kind of information?” Bilbo played dumb.

“A file came across your desk, and you gave Gandalf a name. I want to know why? What did you see that made you so sure it was him?”

There was almost a maniac gleam in those bright blue eyes. It was something Bilbo related to well.

“I can show you. I just need to get to my bag.” Bilbo stated, slowly standing up.

The man’s hand twitched towards his gun, but he didn’t pick it up as he nodded his consent. He didn’t take Bilbo as a threat. His mistake. Bilbo grabbed his bag and slid the pistol and cell phone out of the front pocket whirling around on the man. He sighed but put his hands up as he leaned back into the couch. Bilbo’s left hand was shaking as he searched for Gandalf’s number, but his gun hand remained steady and in control. He put the call on speaker so he could watch the man’s face for any slip. However, his expression never changed from slightly bored and exasperated.

“My dear Bilbo, I do hope you haven’t shot our guest yet.”

Bilbo could just kill the AD. He really could. As it was, his posture relaxed just slightly.

“Who is he?” He demanded of Gandalf.

“Someone who has hunted Smaug longer than you.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes at the dramatics and lack of a real answer which seemed to amuse the other man somewhat. This didn’t feel right. Every instinct in Bilbo’s body said to arrest the man across from him if nothing else than because he was dangerous.

“Do you trust him?” Bilbo finally asked, his voice wavering just slightly.

There was a long pause before Gandalf answered.

“I do.”

Being of no real use, Bilbo hung up the phone after that. He had two choices before him. He could trust Gandalf’s judgement, or he could go with his instincts. He kept the gun trained on the man for a moment longer before lowering it with a sigh. He flipped the safety back on as he stuck it in his waistband, because he wasn’t a total naive idiot, before picking up his bag like he said he was going to initially. When he looked back over, the man’s gun was gone. Bilbo sat stiffly next to him and pulled out the file Gandalf had sent over earlier.

“It was where these fires originated that tipped me off. Here, what do you notice?” Bilbo questioned.

The man furrowed his eyebrows studying the images before he shrugged with a grunt of irritation.

“Placement.” Bilbo pointed out. “There were no traces of accelerant so how do you start a natural fire? Well, very easily. Gas range stove, covered radiator, electrical outlets, but look. Where the spot is most charred we can assume is the start of the fire. It’s nowhere near anything like that. It couldn’t possibly have started naturally. So what set off the fire? Smaug has a very specific MO. He kills using highly concentrated nitroglycerin tablets, smuggable due to their heart relieving counterparts, that when combined with human stomach acid will cause an explosion. And judging by the shape of the darker burn, it’s not a huge leap to assume that there was a human body there.”

“But all of the owners were alive to file insurance claims.” The man pointed out, looking more curious than anything else.

Forgetting that he was a stranger that had a gun trained on him not even ten minutes ago, Bilbo found himself getting more animated at the chance to finally explain his theories.

“So I looked into that after I sent the email to Gandalf. Somehow, every owner was conveniently out of town before the fire happened, and afterwards were able to afford a building or home way above their pay scale. Which even if you take insurance money into account still shouldn’t be possible. I think Smaug was paying them off for access to conduct his dirty work somewhere he couldn’t be tracked. What’s more, all the buildings being used by the same money laundering cleaning service made an easy target for the police.”

The man raised an eyebrow as he seemed to be appraising Bilbo. He smirked before standing.

“Very well, I’ll talk to Gandalf about getting you transferred.”

Bilbo jumped to his feet.

“Transferred? Where? For what purpose?”

“I want you working for me.”

“Now wait just a minute here!” Bilbo demanded as he stomped back into the entry hall. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but I won’t be a dirty cop! And don’t try to convince me anything about what we did was legal. Nobody breaks into an FBI agent’s home and holds a gun on him unless they work outside the law.”

The man shook his head with a snort. “Well aren’t you just perceptive.”

“Hang on!”

Bilbo reached out for the man’s arm at the same time he reached for the doorknob. In less than a second, the man had Bilbo’s arm pinned above his head in the wall out of view of the window with Bilbo’s own gun placed under his chin. Bilbo glared into the ice blue eyes inches away from his own as he tried to keep a cool head in an uncomfortable situation.

“Let’s get a couple of things straight.” The man whispered, his breath hot on Bilbo’s face. “One, I don’t answer to anyone, especially not you. Two, you’ll be whatever I want you to be or you don’t get the revenge you so clearly desire. Yeah, I can see in your eyes how badly you want Smaug. Work for me or get the hell out of my way. I don’t really care one way or the other, but Smaug is mine.”

He gave Bilbo one last smirk before shoving the gun in Bilbo’s pocket and stepping away. Without so much as a ‘good evening’, he was gone in the night. Adrenaline shot, Bilbo slid down the wall until his butt met the floor painfully. He let his head lightly bang into the wall behind him a few times as he just focused on breathing. A ‘meow’ alerted him to his company before Myrtle stepped over his legs to rub her head against his arms and stomach.

“And where have you been?” He croaked.

He didn’t get an answer back aside from another ‘meow’ as she seemed rather insistent on getting her dinner. Bilbo closed his eyes and counted to twenty before getting up to finally go to the kitchen. That beer sounded more prevalent than ever.

***

First thing he did the next day was go straight to Gandalf’s office, slamming the door behind him. The older man looked up and gave the analyst a wide smile.

“Bilbo! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Who the hell was that last night?!”

“Well…” Gandalf huffed.

“Tell me.” Bilbo seethed. “Or I’ll go straight to the top and tell Saruman everything.”

Gandalf pouted. “No need to get testy. Please have a seat. Do you want some tea? Coffee?”

Bilbo let his face fall into his hands. “What I want…” His muffled voice stressed. “Is some answers. What have I just been exposed to?”

Gandalf sighed. “Very well. I believe you are familiar with Oakenshield?”

Bilbo slowly lifted his head to pierce Gandalf with a baffled glare.

“Oakenshield...the crime family? Oakenshield...who got into it with the Orcs several years back and cut off the hand of their boss? That Oakenshield?”

“The very one.” Gandalf snapped, pleased. “Well that was Thorin.”

“Thorin? As in the head of Oakenshield, Thorin Durin?!” Bilbo’s voice had risen in pitch at this point.

“Of course.” Gandalf nodded as if Bilbo having a conversation in his living room with a dangerous mob boss was akin to making a friend at preschool.

Bilbo collapsed in the chair across from Gandalf as spots danced in his eyes. He white-knuckle gripped the arms as if physically trying to tether himself to the conscious world. I’m not going to pass out. I’m not going to pass out. Bilbo was an analyst! There was a reason he didn’t go out and meet people...well like that. And Gandalf knew Durin. Even worse, Gandalf leaked FBI intel to him. Slowly he lifted his head.

“Did my mother know?” He demanded hoarsely.

“Did she know what?” Gandalf asked, genuinely baffled.

“Did she know you worked for the mafia?”

“Bilbo…”

“ANSWER THE QUESTION, GANDALF!”

The wizened face hardened, reminding Bilbo of the reason why he had yet to retire.

“She suspected...but I never told her, no.”

Bilbo rubbed his jaw as he chuckled on the verge of hysterics.

“She always told me I had to get in your command. Said it was her best days on the force. That you were a good AD. Tell me. What’s your ratio? How many do you let slip off the hook for every one you put behind bars?”

“Now see here, Bilbo Baggins! I will not let you undermine me or my division! Contrary to your belief system, there is more at work here than what you can comprehend.”

“My belief system?” Bilbo scoffed. “You mean THE LAW?”

“Yes.” Gandalf grumped. “The law. The law which can dictate that a pickpocket is guilty but a corporation stealing hours from their underpaid workers is innocent.”

“I’m not going to sit here and debate...politics with you!” Bilbo laughed. “My job is to arrest people like Thorin Durin and there’s nothing you can say that’s ever going to make me think working with the lunatic is a good idea!”

“Not even if he’s your only chance to take down Smaug?”

Bilbo’s face fell into an emotionless mask, except for his eyes burning holes into Gandalf. Without another word, he stood and left the office. If he slammed the door closed with more force than necessary, well that was no one’s business but his own. Luckily, his black mood seemed to engulf him like a siren warning everyone off. He made it to his desk with no distractions ready to pick up where he left off with the embezzlement cases. Only, he couldn’t move as he stared blankly at the wall of his cubicle.

Understandably, his focus was a little off. He figured he should turn Gandalf in, but for the love of his mother’s memory and nothing more, he deemed it best to leave that stone unturned. His decision was immediately questioned when he got a text twenty minutes later from an unknown number with a time and a location and a charming little warning at the end.

Come alone.

Bilbo snorted as he tossed his phone on his desk. Absolutely not. An hour later, he found himself procrastinating the embezzlement case again to pull up the bureau's database on Smaug, Dracon. It was all information Bilbo had practically memorized at this point. His eyes drifted towards his phone with the text he had already committed to memory before shaking his head and exiting out of his search. Bilbo was an analyst for the FBI. He had his integrity and moral responsibility to ignore psychopathic crime bosses who wanted to use him for a turf war. He wasn’t so single-mindedly driven by revenge regardless of what Gandalf or Oakenshield said. His phone buzzed again.

Belladonna Took’s son was meant for more than sitting behind a desk for the rest of his life. Thorin was impressed. At least hear him out tonight, and if you absolutely feel like you can’t join the team, we won’t bother you ever again.

Bilbo threw his phone with a string of curses that had everyone around him staring with wide eyes. Bilbo dragged his hands down his face. This was such an easy decision. He just had to say no! No, no, no, no. Why couldn’t he say no?

Because you’ve never felt more excited about any case before? Because you trained for months to be a field agent before making an abstaining promise to your father at your mother’s grave? Because you’ve never felt closer to getting your mother’s killer, and that’s a sweet taste that just won’t go away?

Bilbo cursed himself with every swear in the book when the cab pulled up outside the restaurant that was texted to him. His nerves were singing. Everything about this felt wrong and dirty. And yet...he opened the door to let himself in.

#birthdayplotbunnies #bagginshield #thilbo #starterdrabbles #i've been binging a lot of 99 and blacklist #that's not terribly obvious #right?

21 notes · View notes

laurenairay · 3 years

Text

Decorating Disaster - J.Markstrom

Summary: what could go wrong with a little competitive holiday baking with your boyfriend Jacob?

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: some bad language, a lot of cute fluff, too much glitter…and he’s on the Flames. Sorry K 😅

A/N: fully in my winter holiday feelings! ❄️ This one is for @danglesnipecelly – I hope it warms your grinchy heart 😘

“Hey älskling, are you busy?”

You looked up from the magazine you were reading at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, shaking your head with a smile. You’d only been reading it in the first place because Jacob had popped out to the grocery store – but now he was back…with multiple bags?

“What are you planning?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at his big grin.

“Nothing!” he said cheerfully, pecking a kiss to your cheek as he whirled past you into the kitchen.

Okay now you knew he was up to something.

“I don’t believe you in the slightest,” you teased, hopping up on the counter as he put the bags down next to you.

“You wound me!” he gasped, clutching dramatically at his chest, making you giggle, “I just thought we could do some baking together this morning,”

What?!

“Baking. You want to bake,” you said dryly.

“Yeah! It’s a fun holiday activity to do together!” Jacob grinned, ignoring your confused expression as he started to rustle through the grocery bags.

You put your hand on top of his to stop him. Seriously, what is he doing?

“J, you don’t even like baking. You purposely steered clear of the kitchen when I made pepparkakor with your mom last year. Why do you really want to do this?” you mused.

Jacob’s grin faded, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Hah, you knew there was a real reason.

3…

2…

1…

“Tanny told the Flames about my last disaster baking attempt and they were all teasing me – I told them that I’d been practicing with you and I was way better than him now,” Jacob admitted.

What a little liar!

“But you haven’t been practicing with me,” you pointed out, trying to stop a grin spreading across your lips.

“Yeah I know…Tanny didn’t believe it either, and he said that I should prove it. Gio turned it into a team group challenge as bonding…but I need to do this!” Jacob sighed.

“So you want to bake…because of a dare?” you snickered, “to save a reputation that is a lie?”

Men. Seriously.

Jacob just grinned, nodding at you. And then that grin turned into a hopeful smile. Oh no. Absolutely not.

“Ohhhh no, count me out,”

“Please? There’s no way Tanny and the others won’t have help too!” Jacob pleaded, “I already know that Elias and Annica are planning on making cookies together!”

Damn those puppy dog eyes.

And if it would make Jacob feel better in front of the team…

“Fine, you ridiculous man. Let’s do some holiday baking,” you sighed fondly.

Jacob whooped and scooped you up off the kitchen counter in his arms, swinging you around in a circle, making you squeal. When he eventually put you back down on your feet, he pressed a firm kiss to your lips, making you lose your breath even more. Wow. Yeah, anything for him, if that was the reaction you’d get.

“Thank you älskling. This is going to be fun, I promise!” Jacob grinned.

“I believe that when I see it,” you giggled.

Now that this was a competition, rather than the fun activity he had initially suggested, you knew Jacob was going to be a nervous mess. There was no way this was ending well. But hey, it would be good teasing material, if nothing else.

“I thought we could do gingerbread men? That way we can get extra points for decoration,” Jacob suggested, “I would’ve said gingerbread people, but there was only the male stencil cutter at the store,”

Fair enough.

“Very strategic, I like it,” you teased.

To be fair, it was a good plan. And meant you could get more creative with it too. Jacob just blushed. “I picked up so many options at the store. Like, all of the decorating options. So there’s lots to choose from,”

“Let’s get the gingerbread going first – we can decide what decorations we’ll do when it’s in the oven,” you mused.

“See, this is why I need your help!” Jacob grinned.

You couldn’t help but grin back. So adorable.

“Alright, let’s find a recipe and get started…”

Making the actual gingerbread took so much longer than it should’ve done. It didn’t make things any easier that one of the ‘competition rules’ was that everything had to be filmed for judging by an impartial panel (aka coach, coach’s wife and the team nutritionist) – so there was way more pressure that you would’ve liked. Jacob almost didn’t sift the flour, would’ve resulted in lumpy batter if you hadn’t corrected him, and he very nearly put sea salt flakes in instead of sugar, which you only just about saved in time. Not to mention the pieces of egg shell he’d dropped in that you asked him to carefully take back out. Each time he looked a little more dejected at the mistakes he was making, but there was no way you were giving up on this. He wanted to do this together, so he was damn well sticking with it. Especially since you were in the competition video too – it was a matter of pride now.

Instead, you put his strong arms to good use in the mixing, which cheered him up a bit (and gave you some excellent eye candy, even if you were sure the video would catch you watching appreciatively), and in the end the dough didn’t turn out looking too bad. After cutting out the figures using the shapes that Jacob had bought, you put the gingerbread men on the trays and into the ovens. And you made sure to set a timer when they were finally in the oven. If they burnt at this point, you thought you would actually cry.

“Is it time to decide on decorations now?” he asked hopefully.

“Definitely!” you nodded.

Jacob grinned and quickly washed his hands before sitting down at the kitchen table, making you laugh. You washed your hands and joined him, Jacob pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head that made you blush.

“So the gingerbread men will need to be in the oven for 15 minutes, then we take them out and let them cool in the pans for 10 minutes, before turning them out onto those wire racks you found to cool completely,” you explained.

“And then we decorate?”

You rolled your eyes fondly at your boyfriend, nudging his shoulder, earning a nudge back. “Yes, then we decorate. Although with all of this stuff you bought, I have no idea where to start,”

Like, seriously. There were so many little packets of candy as well as tiny little piping bags of colourful icing (that must’ve come from a kit) – honestly way too much stuff – but just one look at Jacob’s face showed you that he had a plan. Oh this should be fun.

“I was thinking…the colourful chocolate buttons for their tummies, with the blue, green, red and yellow icings for their shorts which we can then pair with the matching edible glitter on top. And then gummy drops for the eyes, with a white icing smile?”

The hopefulness in Jacob’s voice meant there was no way you were countering any of that – and as it was, it all sounded like a great plan.

“Shall I do the icing parts, and then you do the placement of all the candy plus the glitter?” you suggested.

“Sounds like a plan!” he grinned.

The two of you washed up the mess that you had made so far while you waited for gingerbread to cook, only devolving into a water fight once, ending in some sweet slow kisses (that Jacob promised would be edited out of the video before it was shown to the team), and by the time the gingerbread men were cool enough, you could tell Jacob was getting impatient.

“Remember take it slow and steady – they need to look good so you win the competition,” you murmured into his ear, quietly so the camera wouldn’t pick it up.

Jacob blushed slightly but nodded, counting the candy into piles as you started the first of the icing. To be honest, they looked alright. Nothing was burnt, they were all the same size and shape, and they smelled amazing. So you were happy – they were going to taste good at least! And with your little line process with Jacob doing separate tasks to you, the decorating was taking on good shape.

But there was one thing that you were worried about. The edible glitter. Everyone knows that glitter is almost impossible to get rid of if it spills anywhere, and with Jacob’s track record, you were hesitant. But he was so excited about adding that extra winter magic to the gingerbread men that you ignored your concerns and let him get on with it. It would be fine, right?

Time to put your nerves to the test. Jacob yanked on the lid of the edible glitter, but it wouldn’t budge. As he gripped the vial and the cap with both hands, pulling as hard as he could, you felt a bad omen coming over you. But before you could say anything, the cap suddenly flew off of the glitter vial…

…and the glitter exploded everywhere.

You burst into laughter, burying your face in his shoulder at the astonished look on his face. Glitter was all over his hands, shirt, jeans, the floor and the poor gingerbread man. Holy shit.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, eyes wide.

You were still giggling as you sat upright, tears at the corners of your eyes. How did you not see this coming?

“We can still save this little guy,” you choked, picking up the figure and tapping the excess glitter off of him onto the table, “and luckily you bought so much glitter that we still have another couple of vials,”

“I’m not going to live this down, am I?” he sighed, although the laughter in his eyes made you feel better.

“Probably not, that’ll probably make some kind of bloopers reel at the very least,” you grinned, “But it was only the first one, so there’s plenty of time to make up for it!”

Jacob just grinned back at you, pecking your lips in a kiss before standing up. “I’ll go wash up, and we can try again?”

“Sounds good to me,” you nodded.

Even if your gingerbread men didn’t win the competition, even if the team teased Jacob for the glitter explosion, you wouldn’t trade these memories for anything. This was going to be a holiday time to remember forever, you just knew it.

#my writing #lauren writes winter #i hope you enjoy this K!#marky being adorable AND competitive? sign me up!#jacob markstrom #jacob markstrom fic #jacob markstrom fanfic #jacob markstrom x reader #jacob markstrom blurb #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl blurb #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey blurb

108 notes · View notes

octopodeez · 4 years

Text

Wasted Time (Elijah Mikaelson x Reader)

Based on this request: Can I request a Elijah X reader where the reader is good friends with Elijah and Klaus teases her to be in Love with him, and she acts like Elijah knows and might forces him to play along, turning out they both have feelings for each other but didn't admit it? Klaus playing match maker

Your coven warned you to stay away from New Orleans, but you felt you had a pilgrimage to make. The entire city was known to be bursting at the seams with magic, and you’d dreamt of going since the moment you cast your first spell. You longed to tap into that energy. Maybe even pick the brains of some of the local witches to see what they could teach you.

You also admittedly had a curiosity about the very thing you were warned about: the war. Word spread fast about the city’s chaos once the original family made their return. Vampires and werewolves and witches were battling in the shadows, right under the noses of every tourist and townie. It was fascinating, and you figured a little quiet observation wouldn’t hurt anyone. Your naivety was laughable.

Not 24 hours into your trip did you end up becoming a pawn passed back and forth between the witches and the vampires. A wildcard for every side to use—new blood in the game. It ended with your coven alienating you. They wanted no part in any of it, especially when the original family was involved, and to offer you safe harbor was to bring the bloodshed to them. The witches of New Orleans gave you a similar answer when you desperately sought refuge with them, though, theirs ended with plans to execute you.

And then there was Elijah. Elijah who found you labeled as a traitor, about to be sacrificed. Elijah who rescued you and gave you his word that he’d keep you safe.

The living situation wasn’t ideal, and you lost the ability to move freely about the city, but over time, you came to like it. Winning over his siblings wasn’t easy, especially Klaus, but after Elijah reminded him that he was the one to drag you into this, he softened slightly.

You did your best to earn your keep, though Elijah insisted you didn’t have to. You’d happily cast spells upon request, but mostly you found yourself cooking and cleaning. It irritated Rebekah to no end when she came around.

My brothers are over 1,000 years old, if they haven’t learned to pick up after themselves by now then they deserve to live in filth, she chided the first time you met. If you must do something, make it to be that you keep to yourself. The less involved with our family you are, the better. Trust me on that.

You nodded along for her benefit, and even took her advice for a bit while she was there. But the second she left again, you were back to making cookies and disposing of bodies.

Occasionally things would quiet down. Someone would propose a flimsy peace treaty, or a faction would be forced to withdraw as they licked their wounds. It was those times that Klaus was at his most dangerous. Without the distractions of war, he had time to turn his attentions to other things…namely your friendship with Elijah.

At first, he was relatively quiet about it. He’d shoot smug, knowing glances and take the occasional vague jab in one of your directions. But as time went on and his boredom grew, he became far more vocal about what he’d suspected since day one: you and Elijah were in love.

He was half right. You had it bad for his elder brother, and everyone knew, save for Elijah himself. Or rather—he did know and simply chose not to acknowledge it. The latter was more likely. Few were more perceptive than Elijah, and there was absolutely no way he didn’t catch you staring at him as he read or lighting up whenever he walked within six feet of you. You’d come to terms with it quickly, and decided it was probably for the better he didn’t say anything. He’d quickly become your closest friend, and you’d rather have that than nothing at all.

Klaus decided otherwise.

“Your affections for my brother are exhausting, you know,” he said one day. He was leaning against your doorframe with his arms loosely crossed, watching you change your bedsheets.

You sighed and fiddled with a pillowcase. Ignoring him had never made him go away in the past, but you could sure as hell still try.

He remained persistent. “It’s no secret you fancy our dearest Elijah, and your longing stares after him are losing their humor.”

“So you’ve caught me looking at your brother a few times. What’s the big deal?” You snapped.

Klaus clicked his tongue after finally getting the reaction he wanted out of you.

“It seems I’ve struck a nerve, little witch.”

“No, I’m just tired of having this same conversation. I don’t know what you’re hoping to get out of it. Or are you just jealous?” There was venom in your voice and Klaus looked more delighted by the second.

“You’re not my type, love, but thank you for keeping me in your thoughts,” he replied. His sarcasm made your blood boil. “A quick word of advice—my brother seldom opens his heart to others. If you do choose to grow a spine and act upon your feelings…just know I’ll gladly reach down your throat and rip it right back out, should you ever hurt him.”

***

Klaus’s words stuck with you. They kept you up that night and well into the morning as they played in your mind over and over again. My brother seldom opens his heart to others. My brother seldom opens his heart to others. My brother seldom opens his heart to others. You knew better than to read into it. Hearts could open for friends just as much as for lovers…but could they really?

“You look conflicted.”

Elijah appeared in the kitchen with impeccable timing, as usual. You had just shoved a large spoonful of cereal in your mouth, and now your cheeks were swollen with Cheerios. A dribble of milk dripped down your chin and you nearly choked as you scrambled to wipe it away. He smiled and waited patiently for you to recover.

“What?” You finally managed. It was the first time you spoke since rolling out of bed and the sound was less than pleasant.

“You look conflicted,” he repeated, and then added “did you not sleep well?”

“Oh, no, I slept fine. Or, I guess I had a little trouble falling asleep…woke up a few times, too. But other than that, fine,” you stammered. Each word was clumsier than the next.

“Mm. Perhaps you should take it easy today. Maybe draw yourself a bath later on. You’re welcome to use the tub in my room. I expect it’s a bit nicer than yours.”

You nearly choked again. In all your fantasies and daydreams, you’d somehow never pictured him in the bath until now. Your mind’s eye was practically whirring with excitement as you envisioned him relaxed. Head leaned back. Eyes shut. Breathing deeply as one arm hung lazily over the porcelain’s edge. The other had its fingers wrapped delicately around the stem of a wine glass, filled with an unmistakable shade of deep red liquid. An empty blood bag lay crumpled and discarded on the floor. Nothing sexual. Nothing romantic. Just the wonderful idea of Elijah experiencing a rare moment of bliss.

He must have heard your heart skip a few beats. The clearing of his throat snapped you back to reality.

“Sorry! Maybe I’ll take you up on, uh, that. I’m not really feeling myself today.”

“You don’t say. What happened?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t sleep well.”

Elijah stayed quiet for a beat. He looked at you expectantly. Waiting for you to confirm what he already knew: you were full of shit. You pretended not to notice. You’d sit at this table, stubbornly eating the same bowl of Cheerios for an eternity before you willingly gave up the fact that he was the reason for yet another sleepless night.

“I noticed Niklaus coming from the direction of your room last night…so allow me to ask you again. What happened?” His voice was firm and his eyes were narrowed. Had you not known better, you would have almost thought he was jealous.

“Nothing! Klaus was just being Klaus, I don’t know! He stopped by, bugged me while I was trying to clean my room, then left. No conspiracies. No secret love affairs. Nothing new to report.” You chomped down on another spoonful of cereal. Everything came out harsher than you meant it to, but you had no intentions of apologizing.

“Is that so? Because if I recall the conversation I had with my brother last night as he left your room, the placement of your spine was threatened on my behalf…I suppose the question I should be asking isn’t what happened, but for how long?”

You spent so much time daydreaming about Elijah over the short course of your friendship. You pictured a life together. Maybe even an eternity, if he offered to grant it. You imagined what it would be like to feel him drink from you. The way he’d rest his hand on your waist as you drifted to sleep in a shared bed. The taste of his lips between sips of champagne on some far-off beach.

There was a part of you that felt terribly foolish. If something were to happen, it would have happened. He would have acted upon the tension he damn well knew was there. Your relationship was platonic because that was all he wanted it to be. But then there was another part of you. The same part of you that brought you down to New Orleans to begin with. That voice in the depths of your brain that kept whispering Klaus’s words: My brother seldom opens his heart to others.

“A while,” you finally confessed. It felt anticlimactic. Of the thousands of heartfelt speeches you’d planned over the months knowing him, all you could muster was two miserable words.

“I see. And you said nothing.”

“Right.”

Unable to look at him, you grabbed your empty bowl and moved towards the sink, but only made it halfway before he was in front of you, blocking your path.

The way he studied you made you feel small and exposed, a feeling you’d experienced many times in your life, but never to this degree. His body was close to yours. You could feel his breath lightly on your skin. It rippled over every nook and cranny of your being, making your hairs stand on end. If you wanted to, you could reach out and kiss him—and you did want to, badly--but you remined frozen in time, waiting for him to speak.

He never said a word.

His hand found its way to you neck, and he tangled his fingers in your hair as he kissed you. It was tender, but had an underlying fire to it that made your knees buckle. You wrapped your arms around him for support. To draw him in closer, closer, closer, closer, until you had to come up for air. He allowed you to take a breath, just enough to keep your heart pounding, before kissing you again, somehow with even more fervor than before.

When it was finally done, Elijah smiled and held you against his chest. He kissed the top of your head. The side of your neck. The shell of your ear.

There was so much wasted time to make up for.

I’m not super crazy with how this one turned out, but matchmaker Klaus was a ton of fun to write! If you like what you see, check out my AO3 and master list :)

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson imagine #the originals #daniel gillies #elijah imagine #klaus mikaelson #reader insert #tvd #the vampire diaries

181 notes · View notes

crimsonthehobo · 3 years

Text

Battle Scars - (1/?)

[A/N:] Haven’t been on this account in months, am quite sleep-deprived and I haven’t eaten breakfast yet. Well, lunch now apparently. So before I lose the minimal courage I got, I’ll just drop this off here and hope it works! Don’t know when I might write the next part, might even not. Who knows. Mind’s wonky. This has been in my files for a long while, wrote it back when Guy Sebastian’s song Battle Scars got stuck in my head. Figured I might as well let it stop collecting dust. Also, considering I’ve never done this before, I don’t know how to properly tag.

If there’s tags I should put, ESPECIALLY if they’re tw tags, please do tell me. [Summary:] The child of a general, the only survivor of a (frankly) unethical experiment, and the old college roommate of one Alexandra Danvers. Somehow all three of those things correlate with one another, not that you can remember at this point. You just want to live in the forest, forgetting the reasons for the scars that litter your body. [Warning(s):] Reader’s thoughts get... dark. Somewhat. More depressing, I think. Some people horrifically mutate too, so there’s that. Again, if there should be warnings in the tags or here that I should put but didn’t, do tell me. What else... uh, this is approximately 11k words long? Maybe that deserves a warning all to itself. Is there a tag that explains “possibly turns you into a modern-day cave person living in forests to steal from humans and wrestle bears”? Possibly a spoiler, but hey, at least it means you read warnings, so congrats!

The first time you felt like you’d failed, was when you had to leave the first love of your life. It was the only scar that had no physical counterpart, but you’d felt the mind-numbing pain, nonetheless.

“You watch yourself, alright? I won’t be around to keep your head screwed on for you!”

“Yeah, yeah…”

You rolled your eyes, pointedly keeping your focus on shoving the remaining belongings you had into your duffle. You didn’t look at her. You couldn’t. You knew if you did, you’d break.

Silence fell over the room at your half-hearted response, the lack of noise almost making you regret not saying anything more in reply. And then…

“Do… Do you really have to go?”

‘Damn it.’

Alex’s words were shaky, barely louder than a whisper. The strained tinge in her voice urged you to look up from zipping up your bag, glancing over at the source.

Seated on your bed with her legs over the side, she sat hunched over as one of her legs anxiously shook up and down against the edge. Her hands were curled into fists between her knees, knuckles white as her forearms tensed from their placement on her thighs.

She looked so… small. Nervous. It wasn’t like her.

She was supposed to be Alex Danvers. A stubborn redhead that was tough-as-nails and was always up for drinking you under the table any day!

But you couldn’t blame her for not being herself. She was heartbroken, and so were you.

Though, it made you feel guilty that it was because of you that she looked so weak.

No, “weak” wasn’t the word.

Vulnerable…

Vulnerable seemed more fitting.

“I’m sorry.”

You looked away, but it didn’t last for long. You felt her tap your jaw; once, twice, then a third time. For you two, it was a universal sign that you needed to listen. That what would be said was important.

It was an action that would only take effect if done by the other, and no one else.

It could calm either of you from rage, or even help you fight the haze of drunkenness to be in some semblance of sober.

It was special. Meaningful.

Hence why your automatic reaction was to turn, to obey the silent request to face her.

“You’ll stay in touch, yeah?”

“…Yeah.”

Now you? You were weak. While the owner of your heart was devastated right in front of you, all you could offer for comfort was an unconvincing smile and a useless apology.

Her throat bobbed as she attempted to swallow back a sob, but the teary shine in her eyes gave her away.

Another surge of guilt struck your heart and made you avert your eyes elsewhere, anywhere, as long as they were not on her.

‘Look at what you’ve done.’

It was your fault. She didn’t even know why you were leaving so suddenly.

Your father had found out of your attraction to her, and needless to say, he didn’t take it lightly. A few strings pulled later, and you were being sent away to be “straightened out.” The thought almost made scoff during that particular conversation in his study, but you accepted the consequences anyway.

You should’ve been better.

You should’ve done better.

You didn’t protect her well enough.

The fault was none but yours… and the knife you felt in your heart would remind you for a long while to come.

~~~

The second time you felt like you’d failed, happened two years after that moment in your college dorm room.

It took months for that scar to start to heal, but you knew it would take years before it would even begin to fade.

You’d tried to keep in contact, but you had your life to live and so did she. Not to mention the day your father heard of the two of you still communicating, he pulled more strings to cut you off. It was too late, anyway. You’d already stopped talking by then.

But whether the silence was for the better or worse was up for debate.

Just the thought of her made your heart lurch, and actually interacting with her never failed to re-open that scar anew. The space, however agonizing, let the wound heal.

Yet that very same space was what let you drown yourself into your current occupation. In order to compensate for the agony, you let yourself fall deeper and deeper into your work. Though at this point, you were questioning if you should even call it that.

Unknown to her, a month into your time in the military, a general offered you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

You found it hard to believe. You weren’t stupid, you could read between the lines. You knew “opportunity” also meant “ulterior motive.”

He didn’t prove you wrong.

When you walked into the conference room you’d been instructed to enter, your eyes immediately fell to the only individual inside.

General Lane.

You knew three things about him. One, he had been your father’s best friend. Two, he had a palpable dislike for any and all alien life. Specifically, Superman. Three, whenever he began to rant, just smile, and nod.

It was only the two of you there, yet you couldn’t seem to find it in you to focus. Not after he uttered the words “military program.”

You already knew this wouldn’t end well.

Though you remained silent, your eyes having glazed over as the static in your ears prevented his words from reaching your brain, he continued to speak. You only managed to catch bits and pieces, but you got the gist.

They wanted to conduct an experiment and were looking for lab rats. They wanted you to be one.

You weren’t surprised they asked. To everyone else’s knowledge, you had no one left in your life but you. Your father made sure any links between you and Alex were cleanly severed, meaning any history between you two had been cleared. You had no family other than your parents, your mother having passed while you were still in your single digits, while your father had done the same just a week before this very meeting.

‘Tch… no love lost there.’

But, considering he was a respected figure and a close friend of the very same general right in front of you, you had to at least act as if his death affected you. Your father had always been one for appearances, so no one outside of the two of you (and Alex) knew just how estranged you’d been from the other. Because of this, luckily (or unluckily, depending on what way you view it), people took your indifferent poker face to be one of grief.

General Lane wanted to capitalize on that. On you.

You had military blood in you (because apparently that meant you were exactly like your father), you had a “reason” to go missing (grief, hah), and—as far as he was concerned—you had no close relations that would worry should you ever disappear (you… couldn’t really think of a quip to internalize there). You seemed like the perfect guinea pig.

“…We need heroes around here. Human heroes. Not those monsters who could fall to their instincts at the drop of a hat, or at the touch of some space rock—”

Again, it came with no surprise to you that extra-terrestrials were the main focus of said experiment.

You wanted to say no. Fuck, did you want to say no. You wanted no part in this blind hatred. But then…

“—They’re never here when we actually need them. A group of freaks like him are planning to go after National City to lure him out, and where is Superman? Frolicking off in space! The President had an entire clandestine organization made exactly for roach-connected situations like this, yet they don’t even know—”

Your blood ran cold, your hearing suddenly becoming clear as your eyes bore into his.

National City.

Of all the places, they had to go there. You didn’t give it a second thought. You didn’t have to.

“I’ll do it.”

You had no idea what CADMUS was, just that they were collaborating with the U.S. Military to make you and forty-nine others into the ones that would “exterminate the roaches infesting the planet.”

Sounded more like “short-sighted discrimination with an unhealthy dash of xenophobia” than “rational thought for the human race” to you; but as long as you could protect Alex, you didn’t care how much of the mindless drivel you had to sit through.

You didn’t count how many times you found yourself strapped to a metal bed, or how many times you found a needle being stuck into you. Rather, you couldn’t. More than half the time, whatever they put into your bloodstream always made you feel woozy. Enough to make you practically perpetually confused.

Any recollection of your experiences during the experimentation were impossible to stir, and after seeing that one woman’s all-too-amused smirk a few too many times, you were convinced that it had been on purpose.

Before you knew it, another month had passed. Not that you would’ve realized it yourself. Your best guess would’ve been a week, if it weren’t for the woman General Lane had assigned to you telling you otherwise.

She was about your age, maybe a month or so younger. Lucia was her name if you remembered correctly. She’d been left by him to keep an eye on you, or to “keep you sane” as she worded so eloquently.

She was the first person you saw the moment you could properly think again. Her calming presence was a breath of fresh air, and for a moment, everything felt… nice.

Until a soldier barged through the door of your allocated resting area, screaming about an attack.

Time seemed to blur once again, and the next thing you knew, you were in the middle of a war zone. A mile or two from some desert base in the middle of nowhere.

Only you and the rest of the fifty who had been volunteered for the Eradication Program had been deployed. You wished you hadn’t been. The others were bloodthirsty, tearing through the opposition the moment they were ordered to. You, however, chose to take a step back and analyse the enemy.

Most of the “opposing force” looked to be human, not alien. None of them seemed hostile, either. Well… until they were provoked, that is. The human-like members of their group—who you’re sure actually were human—were being protected by their definitely-alien comrades, clearly not trained for combat or any attack whatsoever. In fact, if their attire was anything to go by, they all worked in what could be considered “support” occupations. Engineers, researchers, varying members of medical staff… not one of them appeared to be soldiers.

What was General Lane not telling you?

Were you really protecting National City?

…Were you even in National City?

You felt your comms crackle in your ears, said general’s voice screeching, “What the HELL are you doing?! Move your ass, Six!”

Right. Soldier Six, your call sign. Simply because you were the sixth one to wake up.

How original.

You huffed, and in retaliation to the general’s orders, you tore the device out of your ear and threw it as far as you could over your shoulder.

Because frankly, you didn’t want to. Not when you’d been pit against wrongly identified “hostiles.”

Despite your stubbornness to keep your feet rooted to your spot, soon enough, you didn’t have the privilege of choosing to abstain.

The other “volunteers”—all forty-nine of them—began to stop and convulse. Their flesh rippled beneath their skin, muscles expanding and contracting in an obscene manner.

Something had gone wrong. Horribly wrong.

Each and every one of them mutated appallingly right before your very eyes, all of them attaining a different level of horrendous to another. Some grew limbs, some lost them. Others had extra eyes while a handful had one left or none at all. A few had their nails elongate into claws, others had a tailbone that whipped its way through the air. More than half had lost the colours of their irises—no, not just the colour. The pupils and irises themselves disappeared completely. It was a horrific spectacle to behold.

To call these things a shell of their former selves, would be insulting to the humans they used to be.

Was this going to happen to you?

You didn’t have much time for your thoughts. The one thing that didn’t change was the sheer amount of bloodthirst coursing through their veins. With the supposedly villainous aliens already exhausted, they wouldn’t last a second round against the other volunteer—

‘…No,’ You shook your head, fists clenched tight, ‘Those aren’t the volunteers anymore.’

From what you could see, those men and women died the moment the experiments started. All you could do for them, was help them rest in peace.

And you doubt they’d be getting any rest with their bodies wreaking havoc as these beasts.

Using the enhanced abilities you shared with the monstrosities, you slowly but surely took them out one by one.

They fought like animals.

Yet no matter how many times they slashed at your body, no matter how many times they lunged for your head, nor how many times they made you bleed, you continued to end every single one of them. You didn’t want any of them to suffer longer than they already have.

As with most things nowadays, in your eyes, the details were nothing but a blur. Everything felt… vague. Flashes of claws, bones, and agonizing pain run through your mind, yet no instance remained distinct for more than a second.

…Was this a symptom? Of the experiment, or the transformation?

Fear of the truth made you falter, and a skeletal tail surging straight through your right thigh forced your focus to return. But then so too would the questions, along with the subsequent terror, until another wound started the cycle another time. Again and again, until after what felt like an eternity, the last of them finally fell with an inhuman screech. It was done. But at what cost?

You surveyed your battleground, heart heavy and clenched in an icy grip. You couldn’t protect them, save them. Any of them.

A mighty hack then reverberated through the painfully silent air and caused you to flinch. Your head snapped up to turn to its direction, your feet already making their way over. You’d thoughtlessly skidded onto your knees, the coin-flip reaction bringing you to the survivor’s side. It was an alien.

Your eyes were wide in alarm, hands flittering around as your mind buzzed at what to do. There were so many injuries. Far too many for him to survive, alien or no. Your eyes met his, and your breath hitched in surprise. His irises didn’t scream anger or disgust like you expected. Instead, they were shining in wonder so innocent, it was almost childlike.

“You… Your body… did not… revolt?” the dying male grinned, placing a hand in yours to grip it in glee, “M-Miracle! It… I-It is m-miracle!”

For a moment, you were confused. Until you followed his gaze and watched as your body slowly stitched itself back together. One shallow cut in particular caught your attention, the damage slowly disappearing before your very eyes, leaving not a single blemish on your skin. You’d been so focused on fighting, that you didn’t even stop and wonder how you were still alive. After this day, there may not even be a single scar found.

At another bloody cough, newfound healing abilities were far from the forefront of your mind. Your vision blurred with tears, a sob escaping without your control. It was your fault. It was all your fault.

“Sorry…” You hadn’t spoken in so long, your voice harsh and throat sore, “I- I’m so sorry.”

He weakly shook his head, “B-Blame… not… on y-you. Deceived. We… We all… were…”

“W-What?”

With a wince, he forced his other arm to point to one of his fallen allies, a human researcher about a meter or so north of you.

“Necklace… take…” the light in his eyes was beginning to die, you could see it and he could feel it. Forcing a shaky smile, he murmured in his broken English, “Promise… y-you… not feel… guilty?”

“I…”

You knew you’d feel guilty.

You should, shouldn’t you? This was all your fault! You were careless and made a mistake once again. You didn’t see through the veil, you weren’t smart enough. You couldn’t stop the others, you weren’t quick enough.

You weren’t enough.

And just like before, people suffered because of it.

But… although he was on his last seconds of life, he looked at you so brightly. He was still so hopeful. How could you break such a wonderous being in his last moments?

You shook your head ‘no,’ lying, knowing this would be a wound that would last a long time to come. From the huff he gave, you felt like he knew that too.

Nonetheless, he coughed out, “P-Promise?”

You swallowed, feeling a fresh wave of hot tears cascading down your cheeks. With another lurch from your heavy heart, you gave him a nod and a shaky smile of your own, “I promise.”

His smile grew a fraction wider, “P… Pro… mise…”

His last breath left him, leaving the hand still in yours to fall, limp.

You were wrong earlier, there was a scar left behind.

The laceration you’d received from foolishly grabbing onto a tail, the one injury that had been obscured from your sight by his hold, had left a mark. You knew what it would be. A memento, of another time you’d failed. Of the first time your naivety took the life of another. You let a sob escape your control.

And another…

For hours you stayed on the blood-soaked sand, the coarse particles dyed red with the proof of the violent loss of life. By the time you heard a chopper land meters away to analyse the aftermath, your tears had long since dried and the last remnants of your rampant emotions were now trapped deep within, leaving only your now-signature emotionless mask. Thankfully, they understood enough that your mind was stuck elsewhere and didn’t bother to get a mission report out of you.

They did, however, cheer at the averted “crisis.”

All except Lucia. It was a small comfort, but a comfort, nonetheless. Rather than cheering, she sat next to you, a consoling hand on your shoulder as she murmured apologies for wrongs not her own.

For a brief moment, you wondered why she was here. What her role was in all of this mess, how she got caught up in it…

But when the others’ voices drowned out Lucia’s and all you could hear was their excitement and joy, your thoughts were immediately overrun by pure rage. Your stare morphed into a glare as your eyes kept themselves glued to the carnage below, hand clutching the unseen necklace concealed by your dog tags.

You were the only one who survived.

You were the only success.

You were now a monster.

~~~

It was two years later after that, that the third occurrence happened.

Although you held a great amount of distrust for the U.S. Military, you never left their command. Foolishly, you stayed and did whatever they said. You went to where they told you you’d been needed. You fought who they told you to fight. You killed who they told you to kill.

All because of your own fear.

What if you were already transforming? What if your body was just one second away from fighting whatever gave you your powers? What if, the moment you left… you went berserk?

One “what if” after another festered in your mind, leading to you to forcibly suppress your own self and play their perfect little soldier, if only to keep your own body at bay should it ever run amok.

After all, they created you. The only ones who would know how to stop you would be them, right?

Besides, what would you even do once you left? They’d written the end of your life for you the moment you agreed to be a lab experiment.

Who would you have turned to?

Alex?

You scoffed at the thought. You said “yes” to help protect her, not drag her into the damn problem.

For a year and a half, you’d justified your stay with those thoughts, and for more than half of that time you let yourself be used as a mere weapon. It took you a year until you accepted the truth of your situation, and it wasn’t until roughly three months prior to your third failure that you finally let yourself see reason.

You sat up on your bunk, eyes on your hands, staring at blood that none but you could see. Sweat dripped from your brow, faint screams echoing in your eardrums, audible just beneath the vigorous beating of your heart.

‘I can’t keep this up…’ You released a shuddering breath, ‘How long will I have to keep this up?!’

Ever since that day in the desert, your nights were never peaceful, your sleep never serene. You’d long since gotten used to the endless screams of terror, the unending stream of unfamiliar faces contorting in woe. But what you hadn’t prepared for—what you never thought you’d ever need to prepare for—was for those faces to suddenly become familiar.

Alex had been petrified, the alien terrified, and Lucia… Lucia lay on the bloodied, black dirt, prone. Her face perpetually mortified. Even after you lurched forward in your bed and had left the realm of dreams, their suffering still danced in the shadows of your surroundings, the remnants of their frightened faces flashing in your eyes like some ghastly slideshow.

Their misery was because of you. You’d stumbled too deep into the haze, and by the time you came out, you had become what you feared the most. The cause of their torment.

‘What am I doing with my life?’

It was on that night that you truly accepted the reality of your situation. You had let your mind wander and, without realizing, let yourself function on autopilot for too long. It wasn’t until now, on this night—when you were terrorized by their screams—that you accepted that fact. But you felt it was already too late.

By mindlessly putting your life on the line, you had saved hundreds of lives—or so you were told. Yet for every life you saved, you knew there had been at least one you’d taken in return.

Your comrades rejoiced at your feats, and even a few of the higher-ups praised your work.

And yet…

Why did you feel nothing? Why did you feel out of place?

Why did you feel like you were doing something you weren’t meant to?

You’d been confused, very much so. For over a year, in fact. Your body felt ironically alien. Different. As if you’d been sleepwalking the past two years. Your memories, too, felt foreign. They were more like dreams than anything else.

No… “dream” was far too nice of a word.

Nightmare—like vulnerable—seemed more fitting.

Your recollection of the past two years was a mess. There were only a handful of distinct memories you could recall, and all were of them. Alex… the alien… and Lucia. The rest were all a hazy blur, a fever dream that kept you jumping from one horrific scene to another.

You didn’t even know who you’d been fighting the entire time. No one ever gave you a clear picture, only stating where you were needed and what had to be done. You vaguely remember a mix of terrified faces, both alien and human. What did they even do wrong?

Did they even do wrong?

It was then that reality truly sunk in. You already knew that you were a weapon, one for them to use however and whenever they saw fit. What was hardest to swallow was the fact that the blood you’d let yourself spill—blood you could’ve chosen not to spill—could very well have been those of innocents.

You buried your face into your knees, fingers threading through your hair and gripping your pounding skull. You felt your nails dig into your scalp.

Luckily for your tattered mental state, Lucia had been there to help anchor you back to reality.

She murmured lowly as she gently pried your fingers from your head, and though her words went through one ear and out the other, her voice alone soothed you. You found that she knew exactly what to do, and even let you bury your face into her shoulder as she cooed at you softly, her hands tenderly drawing calming patterns on your back.

You’d been so happy that she was there. It wasn’t until hours later, after both of you had passed out in emotional exhaustion, that you woke up and realized that she had always been there. You’d just been too stuck in your own mind to see her.

When she woke up, her eyes meeting yours, neither of you spoke a word. Yet you both knew your dynamic had shifted, the air between you different. It simply went unsaid.

It didn’t go unseen, however. Everyone knew how dangerous you were, and after a rookie’s idiotic mistake, knew how equally dangerous it was to make Lucia unhappy in any way.

(His shoulder wouldn’t shove into others the same way again, nor would his ego inflate with the chasm you’d left.)

Stupidly, despite the revelations of that night—perhaps even because of said revelations—you continued living under the government’s employ.

In your mind, it was no longer just for your fear, it was also for her sake. If you left, you knew she would do whatever it took to stay by your side, regardless of the danger. Even if you were to be hunted, experimented, or executed, she would stay. And none of those fates were any you would allow to befall her.

No matter the gruesome sights that looped in your mind like a film at some grisly theatre, you jumped into the fray again, and again, and again. Still as reckless. Still as unrelenting. Still as guilty.

Not a single complaint ever left your lips. You felt you deserved it. But more importantly, you felt you were protecting her.

She didn’t agree.

The topic had been the spark of many arguments between the two of you, one such case being…

“You can’t keep doing this—you can’t keep living like this!”

‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

You stayed silent, sat on your bed in your designated quarters. Your eyes were trained on her pacing form as you fiddled with the fresh bandages on your arms, replies only said in mind.

At this point, this scene was common. You’d gotten injured, she’d gotten frustrated, and you had the decency to listen. You knew Lucia wasn’t mad at you. Annoyed? Maybe. But not mad. Her anger was always directed at the same people, and never to you. She just hated to see you hurt.

‘Unfortunately, it’s an occupational haza—'

“—And don’t you say it’s an occupational hazard!”

Or… not?

Lucia stopped in her tracks, eyes boring into your own, “There are always ways to complete your missions without you ending up a bloody mess, but they don’t care about that, do they? As long as the mission is completed as soon as possible, they don’t give a damn. What if you never healed? What if you actually found something that would actually get you killed?”

You had no response for that.

“They don’t even know of the full extent of your powers—none of us do! They started sending you out the day after that desert! Yet here we are again… I don’t understand why we don’t just leave.”

You opened your mouth to speak for the first time, to remind her of the dangers of such a plan just as you always had in the past, when you felt your hairs stand on end. Someone was eavesdropping. Your glare flashed to the door, spotting an eye widen at your stare before rushing off. You’d rush after them, but you knew nothing could be done without arousing suspicion. This base was full soldiers, and thus witnesses. Unfortunately, it was also full of snitches.

You stood abruptly, causing Lucia to jerk in surprise. Her brow furrowed when she spotted the grim frown you now wore.

“We’re leaving. Now.”

She could only blink in shock, “Now?”

“Now.”

The conversation would’ve been seen as treason. Or, at best, the start of it. You needed to run.

She followed your unwavering stare to the door, the sight of its slight opening making the cogs in her mind connect the dots. Someone had heard, and were no doubt reporting you. Her shock melted into determination, “I’ve already got a bag of necessities packed in case of an emergency escape. Let’s go.”

Next thing you knew, you were both dashing through corridors, unfamiliar alarms blaring the moment you had retrieved her bag. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who had prepared for this eventuality.

Squad after squad were sent after you both, all made up of people you’d seen as comrades and allies not even an hour before. Any fondness you held for each of them, however, immediately dissipated the moment they aimed a gun even a meter in Lucia’s direction. With a growl, you tore through every single one of them, unabashed by their betrayed yells so long as her safety was assured.

But you’d made a mistake. You were focused too much on those aiming for her, that you forgot there were others targeting yourself. Lucia didn’t. Which is why she spotted the soldier pulling out a weapon from a case before you did.

It looked like a gun, but she knew it was different. She could feel that it was. When they overlooked her completely and aimed for you, she knew she was right. Without a second thought, she shoved you out of the way, just as the soldier pulled the trigger.

A bang echoed in your ears, then a pained scream and a thud.

Your heart dropped. She’d pushed you away. Because of her, the bullet only grazed your torso… before tearing straight through her own.

You fell to your knees, not sparing a glance away from Lucia even as you put a bullet straight through the head of the soldier responsible.

“You IDIOT! Why would you do that?! You know I would’ve survived it!”

Your eyes were panicked, breathing growing more erratic by the second as you attempted to staunch the blood flowing from her wound. There was so much blood… why was there so much blood?!

“No…” she shook her head, “You… You wouldn’t’ve. N-Not… Not this one.”

You could hear footsteps and voices growing closer. You ignored them.

“I always survive, it’s my THING!” You gritted your teeth, ignoring the tears leaving tracks down your cheeks, “Stop talking, would you?! You need all your damn energy!”

Lucia simply smiled, even as more of the coppery liquid slid down the side of her mouth, “Promise me… promise me you w-won’t blame yourself f-for this?”

Déjà vu. Taunting, agonizing, déjà vu.

“I… I…” more tears, and a sob. What ever happened to control? “…I can’t.”

Her smile didn’t waver, as if she expected your response. Instead, she lifted a hand to your cheek, thumb gently wiping a tear away, “I know what you’re thinking, and I know it’s hard f-for you t-to think otherwise, love… but this isn’t your fault. I chose to do this. Y-You couldn’t’ve done anything to stop me.”

“…” You shook your head in disbelief, feeling more blood seep through your fingers.

Why wouldn’t the bleeding stop?!

“C’mon, love. P-Please, look at me?”

“…”

You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to see her so accepting of her fate.

Yet you couldn’t help the confused furrow of your brows at her tapping your jaw, your focus immediately swivelling to her. Not on instinct, but in question, confusion, and slight betrayal. You’d never regretted telling her of your first love, of admitting that there were some things you could never forget. Until now.

“Th-There you are. I know it hurts, but you have t-to p-promise me, then you need to leave me.”

The familiar action had increased your pain tenfold, but her words had the panic in your eyes grow more intense, blood freezing in your veins.

‘No. NO. NononoNO—’ You looked away as you felt your body quake, the chill caused by her words making your limbs feel like lead, ‘Not you… anybody but you!’

You felt her tap your jaw again, but you didn’t look to her, preferring to stubbornly keep your eyes on your hands. You wouldn’t- You couldn’t.

“Please…” Lucia’s voice sounded so small, distant. Just like with the alien, you knew she was on her last breaths, and so did she, “L-Listen to me… they… now want you… gone. I-I know… it’s a lot to ask, but you have to leave me. Please. T-That bullet was meant f-for you—”

You couldn’t help but snap, “What bullet isn’t when I’m out on the field?!”

“N-No, love. T-They made it for you. T-To kill you…” she weakly shook her head, “I… I… s-saw it… wasn’t… normal.”

“Shit—SHIT! Why can’t I stop the god damn bleeding?!”

You hated that there were so many things that you couldn’t do. Why can’t you just do something—anything—right for once?!

As always, she knew where your mind was headed, “N-No matter… how little… y-you… think of yourself… I know y-you were meant… to be amazing. F-From the moment I… I saw you… I knew you’d be… a… a-a hero.”

“What kind of fucking hero can’t even save the person she loves?!” head hung low, you pulled your hands away from her wound, reluctantly accepting that it was futile, “What kind of useless hero am I?”

You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, the other draping itself across her stomach. You shifted yourself closer, cautiously embracing the dying woman. Apology after apology left your mouth, your tears dripped down from your cheeks only to mix with her own.

“It’s not… your… fau…” her hand, now much weaker than it had been earlier, fell limply onto the arm you’d placed on her stomach. When her fingers lightly squeezed your forearm, you knew what she expected. You released your grip on her hip, linking your hand with hers, making her chuckle faintly, “I-It… theirs… y-y’hear me? N-Never fo… forget… ‘s wasn’t… fault…”

“I… I won’t…”

You knew you’d never forget this day… just as how you’d never forget where the fault would forever lay in your mind.

“L… Love you…” her eyes were fluttering shut, and at the tug of her hand, you knew what she wanted.

You leaned closer, your lips pressing on hers for the final time. Only a second later did her last breath leave her lungs, and with it, one more piece of your fragile heart.

You could only stare, hoping that she would open her eyes and fill the deafening silence. But she didn’t, and you had to accept that she never would. When your mind finally opened itself to the rest of the world, you could hear the soldiers. Their orders for you to back down… or, more specifically, his.

General Lane.

When you saw a glimpse of his face, everything turned red and screams replaced the buzzing in your ears. You could never remember much past their anguish.

All you knew was the gash on your torso healed, but the mark never faded.

~~~

Six months passed, and sleep was still a stranger. So were your mind and memories, but what else was new?

You had no idea where you were, you never did more than half the time. More often than not, you’d find yourself lost in thought, staring off at nothing as your finger lightly traced the scar hidden beneath your shirt. Sometimes you’d snap out of it, standing in the middle of an unfamiliar area. Occasionally, you’d stop yourself mid-step as you were walking or crossing the street.

Either way, people would be staring at you like you were insane. You couldn’t blame them, you felt like you were. That was fine, you never stayed in one area for long anyway.

For the past couple of months you’d been hopping from place to place, lingering only for three days at most. You didn’t have to do much to conceal your identity, considering the government already got rid of it for you. You did get yourself a new name, though.

Corazon.

Wasn’t exactly subtle to you, but it was better than Soldier Six and at least you could remember it.

How could you not, when your mistakes were always made by your soft heart?

You only wished that you had the ability to rid yourself of your emotions, then at least living would be somewhat bearable. You hated that even the smallest things could trigger your beating heart. It could’ve been a hair colour, a laugh, or just an oblivious pair holding hands, your heart wouldn’t fail to work with your fractured memories and remind you of what you’d lost.

You wished you could split the two, or at least rid yourself of one… maybe even both. You couldn’t think without feeling, nor feel without thinking. If you had no way to feel, no way to have a conscious thought, or both, then living a seemingly deathless life would be bearable. Sure, that sort of life isn’t one others would say is worth living, but neither is the one you are now.

The only thing keeping you away from finding a way to have that ‘plan’ to come into fruition, was the fact that—as far as you know—only the government could ‘help.’

You never wanted to make contact with those bastards again.

“Wha- HEY!”

At the indignant yell, you blinked yourself out of your stupor. Confused, you looked around.

You’d wandered into an alley. Huh.

Hearing a groan, you glanced down, spotting a boy who couldn’t’ve been any older than mid-teens. He was sat on the concrete, rubbing his forehead, having presumably fallen after colliding with you.

Then, you heard yelling.

You looked up and saw a group of men pointing and yelling unintelligibly at the boy at your feet. He sprang up and made a move to exit, only for your hand on his shoulder to stop him in his tracks. You felt his eyes on you, but yours never left the group stomping closer as they brandished their makeshift weapons in a supposedly threatening manner.

Hammers, nails in bats, metal pipes… generic, stereotypical, bad guy weapons. You saw a gun or two poking out from the waistbands of their pants, yet you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

When they stopped in front of you, they even puffed out their chests to make themselves look bigger. One of them stepped forward and grumbled with a voice made forcibly gruff, “You with this brat?”

“Pff,” You only shook your head in mirth. You’d heard of people like this in movies, but you never knew they actually existed.

His lips curled up into a snarl, “What’s so funny.”

“…” You smiled, tilted your head in faux innocence, and admitted clearly, “You.”

Predictably, your response infuriated him, and he launched himself towards you to attack.

Within a minute, him and his group were all unconscious, weapons—including their guns—left splintered and bent on the damp ground.

You grumbled, “Idiots.”

With another roll of your eyes, you spun on your heels and moved to leave the scene… only to face an overexcited fourteen-year-old.

“That was AWESOME!”

“!”

You blinked. You’d forgotten he was there. You watched, an eyebrow raised as he asked question after question, each going through one ear and out the other. Your mind didn’t register a single one, but from the rapid rate the words seemed to leave his lips, the number seemed endless.

Didn’t he need to breathe?

It was here that the boy lurched to a stop, his lungs lacking the air required to allow speech. You only blinked when he took in just a little too much oxygen. His overdramatic wheezing caused you to smirk and huff in mild amusement. His eyes darted to you at the noise, focusing on your mirth as he smacked a fist against his chest in an effort to abate his hacking.

“You…” he coughed again, “You don’t talk much, do you?”

You only offered a shrug in response. Considering past experience, human interaction wasn’t something you necessarily searched for. Generally, they all ended up morphing into some form of confrontation for you—or loss, but that was a thought hurriedly buried in the deepest recesses of your mind.

The boy wasn’t deterred by your silence. Instead, he seemed even more determined to fill the space with his own words. Again, most of them generally went through one ear and out the other.

“—I’m Lucas!”

Wait. Why was the kid telling you their name?

You still didn’t reply, but ‘Lucas’ didn’t seem fazed and continued, saying, “My friends call me Luke, though!”

He then scratched his head sheepishly, “Well… they would, if I had any.”

Head tilted in a questioning manner, your brow furrowed at his admission, movements that he managed to notice.

“Ah… well, nobody ever wants to be friends with the weird kid.”

You raised your eyebrow, and he pointed to the unconscious group at your feet as an explanation.

“Wouldn’t be the first time these guys went after me, and they don’t care whether I’m at school or not,” Lucas kicked away a stray can, giving the men an annoyed sneer, “Just that Dad ‘pays them back’ or something, I dunno. No one really wants to be caught up in a mess like this.”

You’d followed his gaze, staring at the people sprawled out on the dirty floor.

What were these guys, self-proclaimed tax collectors? Loan sharks? Wannabe gang members?

That last one seems to fit them to a T.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the loud growling of a stomach. And it wasn’t yours.

Shaking your head, you glanced back at Lucas, his face red in embarrassment. Without hesitation, you rooted through the pockets of a few of the men, forgoing their cards and instead pulled out handfuls of cash from their wallets.

You may already be considered a criminal by the U.S. Army, but you didn’t want more on your record than you already had. And you had standards.

You’d rather have “assault” and “pickpocketing” on that record over “not paying for fast food” any day. That last one just seems like a real shitty thing to be arrested over. Besides, you’d never steal from ordinary civilians… but you’d make exceptions for assholes.

You moved to leave the alley again, tousling Lucas’ hair as you went past. When you didn’t hear his footsteps following, you stopped at the entrance, sending another glance back towards his way you huffed at his stupefied expression before jerking your head in a gesture to follow. You couldn’t help but smile at his joyful expression, biting back a chuckle at his excited hopping at your side.

“Nice to meet you, Luke.”

Six more months passed, and after meeting Lucas, you haven’t left the town. You’d found out that he’d essentially raised himself. The kid’s mother was gone, and he didn’t know why. You met his father, and after that one meeting you knew he was useless. His debts weren’t even for necessities, just for his alcohol and gambling. Guy didn’t even seem to care that his son was the one suffering most from the consequences of his actions.

You were annoyed, but after witnessing him passed out in a bathtub, reaching over the edge to clutch at a toilet while a bottle of whiskey hung from his fingers, you knew he was a lost cause. Lucas knew it, too. Admitted that he’d known so for years.

You felt bad for the kid and did what you could to help. You kept those lackeys off his back. Got him clothes, food, school supplies if he needed them. You didn’t tell him where you got the money and he never asked, but considering how you’d initially met you assume he had a slight idea. You still didn’t talk much, and your attention span failed you at times, but he understood. He knew that you were at least trying.

At times he’d ask you for help with his homework, and you were convinced it caused you just as much grief as it did him. You could barely remember what happened months or a year before, let alone what you’d learnt over a decade ago.

You were a weapon, not a teacher. You could teach him how to kick ass with the best of them, but you didn’t know shit about literature or geography. Or whatever it was high schoolers learnt these days.

Even when you were working with the government, you didn’t have to know how to get around yourself. They just shipped you to the mission location and back, and that was that. You didn’t even know you got around now, considering how most of your time on the road was spent in your head.

You swear he only asked you to laugh at you. You’d try to intimidate him with a deadpan stare, but that only made the cheeky brat laugh louder. Your exasperation would fizzle out soon enough, his joy infectious. You found yourself feeling… happy. Normal. Like an average human. Something you never thought would be a near-unreachable standard.

But of course, as always, happiness in your life never lasted long.

You’d stopped moving. You stayed in one place for too long.

You’d focused too much on the present, that you forgot about the past you’d been running to escape. And so, it caught up.

You were running again. They were at your heels, this time. And you couldn’t just beat them into the ground.

Their weapons looked different. Their bullets hurt.

You didn’t want to believe that this was happening. Just this morning you’d been laughing with Lucas, pancake batter and syrup drizzled over your heads.

Now all you could hear were shouts and gunfire, blood dripping down a healing cut at your temple.

You wanted them to lose your tracks, but you knew how they worked. If you disappeared completely, they’d have to look for clues. Which would lead them to Lucas. Which was why you were leading them, herding them away like sheep to be as far away from the kid as possible. But it was not meant to be.

“Sis!”

The voice made electricity shoot up your spine, catching more than just your attention. You noticed a few soldiers turn to look his way as he ran towards you, even as you shook your head and urged him to turn back. He wouldn’t. You were family, how could he leave you behind?

“LUKE, RUN!”

…Was that your voice? Sometimes you’d forget what your voice sounded like, and not using it for weeks at a time definitely didn’t help your case.

He skidded meters away, eyeing the soldiers, his face conflicted, “But—”

You heard the crackling of their comms and spotted a few guns being pointed his way, one of them even pulled out a pin.

What the fuck was General Lane thinking?!

The kid was a civilian, not a criminal!

You sprinted over to Lucas, body shielding his within a second. You felt bullets pierce your back, easily tearing through the fabric of your clothing. You heard Lucas yelling for them to stop, but you knew they wouldn’t listen. You heard the tell-tale clinking of a grenade rolling on the concrete and you tightened your grip around him, eyes screwed shut. You heard the bellowed orders “TAKE COVER” and then…

Pain.

Searing, white-hot, pain was spreading on your back. You felt shrapnel enter your torso, the heat eating away at your skin. You forced yourself to endure the agony.

You were protecting him.

You repeated those four words in your mind like a mantra, mind clinging to them for a way to ground itself.

When you felt the dust settling, the ringing in your ears calming, you dared to open your eyes. And you wish you didn’t.

Despite your best efforts, Lucas had been hit. Twice. The projectiles had presumably ricocheted. Whether it was shrapnel or bullets, you didn’t know. All you knew was that he was wounded, and that you’ve failed once again.

“No…” You rasped out, tears obscuring your vision. Your throat hurt from disuse, but you continued to force the words out, “No… kid, not you too!”

“Hah,” Lucas laughed, not noticing the blood that came with the motion, “I’m… I… I didn’t e-expect to go like this. P-Pretty badass, huh?”

His eyes were beginning to flutter closed, the light in his eyes quickly dulling. Your breath hitched in your throat, and gritting your teeth, you muttered, “No, no… c’mon, eyes on me bud. Eyes on me!”

His head weakly flopped to the side as he grinned, teeth stained with blood, “S’okay… was meant t-to be gone in… in… that alley. Y’saved me… y’let me be happy… thank you.”

Lucas went limp. Just like that, he was gone. And so were you.

You didn’t flinch when the wounds on your back slowly stitched themselves back together, no doubt leaving a mark as every failure always did.

You didn’t resist when they forcefully yanked you away, uncaring that they had just taken the life of an innocent. The life of a child.

You felt someone forcefully lift your head, to which you muttered, “Kill me. Please.”

You didn’t speak any more after that, no matter how much they tried to get a reaction.

No… you wouldn’t do anything until you were either dead, or put face-to-face with the bastard you knew gave the order.

And as expected, they put him right where you wanted him.

You were back at the base, arid desert and all.

They’d seated you in a metal chair, one bolted down to the thick concrete beneath your feet. Your arms were forced to lie flush against its armrests, wrists cuffed into place.

You were in one of the interrogation rooms, metal walls to the front, back and the left. You weren’t fooled. You knew the wall to the right was a one-sided window. To know that there were people just watching you…

You felt like an animal.

It was only after General Lane stood across from you, after the only door leading in and out of the room clicked shut, that you even twitched. Your attention finally drifted up from the flimsy metal cuffs that they’d clamped around your wrists—not that they knew your strength had grown—and to the poor excuse of a man attempting to stand tall.

You glared at him, unabashedly showing the hatred burning within you. It made him swallow, despite the poker face he attempted to keep up. Your silent staring contest stretched on and on, his mouth repeatedly opening and closing in indecision. He wanted to speak, but had no idea what to say.

The people behind the window had plenty of words, though. You couldn’t catch all of them, but you managed to decipher a muffled few.

“Dad” was one. Which meant one of the people might’ve been his kid. Wouldn’t be implausible. Last time you paid attention to him, he had two. Girls, if your memory actually served you correct. And two of the voices you could hear were distinctly feminine.

“Our” was another, spoken with a lilt for emphasis before “Dad”, which meant both of his kids were there. If your first assumption was correct.

“Superman” was the last one you heard. It was the word that caused you the most grief. Why mention the “Man of Steel”? You remembered hearing someone rant about the Kryptonian, mentioning a possible relation between the hero and a journalist. One of General Lane’s kids was a journalist. That could pose a problem. If his kids really were on the other side of the glass, and Lucas’ info—

‘Luke.’

Any hesitation you had dissipated instantly. No matter what would become of you, you’d make this bastard pay. It was the least you could do.

Breaking away from the General’s stare, your eyes flashed to the window, cogs turning in your mind. Perhaps you could do worse than cause simple, physical, pain. You could expose him, have his children lose their faith in him. Even if they weren’t his children, they would be his soldiers. It could lead to questioning of his authority.

It was worth a shot. Besides, what did you have to lose?

“You killed him,” you snarled, “He was just a boy, but you killed him.”

You shot up from your seat. Rather, you shot up with your seat. The cuffs were still in place, but the bolts that held the seat down had lost their hold with a resounding crack.

General Lane jumped back in shock, the doorknob now jiggling as his soldiers desperately tried to come to his aid.

Without missing a beat, you tore your hands out of their restraints and pulled the long metal table that separated you two upwards, shoving it legs-first into where the door would be. The legs went right through the wall, the body of the table now blocking the entrance as well as the door itself.

‘That’s the front wall and entrance covered…’

With an audible growl, you turned back to the general, the man now scrambling back to push himself flat against a wall in fear. He was pointing a pistol at you, but you were undeterred.

You took a step, and he took a shot.

You took another, and he did the same.

You took a third, and the man emptied his gun into your torso.

You weren’t fazed, your fury burning too great for you to feel anything other than rage.

He looked like he was about to reply to your yell, but you cut him off before he could, snapping, “Your problem was with me. It always has been. There was no need for you to involve a civilian, let alone ordering your men to open fire!”

“I… I—”

“I wanted to live, so you tried to have me die. When I do want to die, you keep me alive. How much more do I have to suffer for you to be satisfied?! How much longer do I have to exist, for my wants to actually matter?!”

As you stomped closer towards him, you gripped the chair that had been meant for him and threw it across the room. The object formed a deep dent upon impact and rendered the back wall weak.

Releasing another growl, you lifted him up by the collar of his uniform, “How much lower are you going to fall, after murdering that poor boy? Is there even a bar lower for you to reach?!”

The general continued to ignore the futility of repeatedly pulling the trigger of his empty pistol, desperate for a way out. But without a miracle, he would never be able to escape.

Unfortunately, he got one. It came in the form of a Kryptonian, at that.

Superman broke through the dented wall, quick in separating you from the general. You felt your back smack against the one-sided window, the cool glass cracking beneath your flesh.

Oh, right. You hadn’t had the chance to change. Your shirt was still burnt at the back, the rest of your clothing tattered at the edges and your feet shoeless. Your state of dress seemed to come as a surprise to Superman, too. If the brief moment he took to observe his ‘opponent’ was any indication.

You glanced at the wall he’d used as an entrance. It wasn’t that much of a fall. It wouldn’t take much to heal if you got hurt. Ten seconds, at most.

Within a breath, you fearlessly leaped through the broken wall. You heard a choke of astonishment behind you as you did, but as much as you wanted to be amused by the alien, you recognized the threat he was to your freedom.

He was a goody-two-shoes. If he caught you, you’d just be locked up. And you’d be used as a lab rat or a weapon all over again. Never able to die.

You couldn’t let that happen.

You’d landed with a wince and a roll, a sickening crack shooting shocks up your left arm. You’d shaken off the pain, sprinting towards where you knew the weapons vault was. The rushing of wind reached your ears, indicating that the alien wasn’t far behind. Spotting the vault entrance straight ahead, you trusted your instincts and slid across the tile floor as if you were running a base. It worked.

Superman flew straight past you, and not expecting you to have sensed him coming, was going too fast to stop himself from crashing into the vault. Your eyes widened at the sight. You hadn’t predicted it either.

Hurriedly pushing yourself up to your feet, you’d rushed into the vault, mind flashing through the arsenal they had you use throughout the years. You’d known what they had in there, and one of them was definitely not good for a Super.

When you stepped foot into the vault, you were proven right. Superman was struggling to stand, green creeping its way through his veins.

“Shit…” without hesitation, you pulled him up. You wrapped his arm around your neck and dragged him out, uncaring of the guns pointed at you. You felt his questioning stare, and grumbled, “What.”

“Why?”

Such a simple question, made of only one word… yet the true nature of its complexity was beyond you. You shook your head. Not the time.

“Never wanted to kill anyone. Never wanted anyone dead, either…” You sighed, voice barely louder than a whisper, “Just wanted to be happy.”

Once you determined that he was at a safe enough distance, you promptly let him flop into the ground. You huffed at his comical “oof” before revealing the smoke grenade you had swiped from the vault. You pulled its pin, and as everyone’s vision began to be obscured, you muttered words only Superman could hear.

“Please, just leave me alone…”

~~~

You didn’t know if it was because of Superman’s influence, but you were. Left alone, that is. Then again, it might’ve been because you’d kept away from civilization as best as you could, staying in forests for as long as you were able.

For how long at this point? You weren’t sure. By the time you’d left him in the smoke, it had been five years since the dorm with Alex. Three since the experiment. One since Lucia. And... none since Luke.

With a shake of your head, their blurred faces and vague memories faded in an instant, the frown at the resurfacing thoughts of them quickly replaced with an easy-going smile.

The woods weren’t too bad.

The animals were surprisingly amicable, and you found an unfamiliar joy in jumping into lakes and rivers without any remorse. If you needed anything that couldn’t be provided naturally, the camp sites you’d managed to memorize the locations of were useful in that regard. Clothes, food, money…

You didn’t realize exactly how easy it was to steal from civilians until you weren’t one yourself.

Still... it should be troubling that you didn’t know how long you’d been living in the forests. Every day blurs together. You didn’t even know what forest you were living in. Or if you’d lived in more than one. Your memories continued to fracture, and due to lack of practice, you could feel your ability to speak and understand wavering.

Your memories…

Very few of them remained intact. You had a feeling that you had a part to play in it, intentional or not, considering that the ones you could remember seemed happy, and anything otherwise—anything that caused pain… either you got rid of them the second they came, or it made you retreat into the deepest recesses of your mind, never knowing how long you’d been in there the moment you returned to reality.

Could’ve been a few seconds, minutes, maybe even hours. It was partially why you’d lost track of how long you’d been living among the trees.

Every time you thought of your past, you were reminded of the burden that was carrying emotions. Of being human. It was roughly one month into living away from humans, that you accepted it was simpler to just ignore the fact that you had a life before this mess. That there had ever been happier times. If you couldn’t identify what was considered a ‘good’ memory, then you wouldn’t be sucked into the ‘bad’, right?

So you buried them. Even imagined little coffins for them and everything.

Part of you knows that it’s unhealthy. But that mindset is what led to those instances now being few and far in between—or, at least you hoped they were. Again, you didn’t really have a good sense of time.

But living was good. It was fun, not thinking of anything but what to do next. You could spend an entire day chasing after deer, or just climbing a tree. And do the same thing all over again tomorrow!

…It all sounds a bit boring now that you think about it. But oddly enough, the days were surprisingly fun. If you really wanted a thrill, all you had to do was start wrestling a bear! That was fun.

You were actually rushing away from one right now, teasingly dangling yourself from one branch of a tree to another, when you heard a scream. A female scream, and then… a crash. While the noise terrified the bear, it only intrigued you, drawing you closer. Almost like a siren’s call.

You dropped down to the forest floor, tackling the bear in the process. After absentmindedly hauling it over your shoulder, you dashed through the treeline within seconds. Once out of the forest, you coughed as you blinked at the wreckage before you.

Two vehicles had collided roughly thirty meters away, the smoke billowing from the smouldering wreck making your lungs burn. What startled you more was the armed man holding a gun up to an injured, blonde woman twenty meters away from the crash.

You blinked at the man, who seemed to be talking the woman’s ears off. Rather, what was the word… monologuing? Yeah. Monologuing.

His cocky grin made you roll your eyes, the action leading to you noticing the bear’s presence on your shoulder. An idea struck. Your eyes narrowed at the man, before glancing over to the bear. The man. The bear. The man…

“BEAR!”

You gleefully yelled, startling them both. But what brought complete horror upon both humans, was the fact that there was now a bear hurtling towards them. Correction, towards the man.

He dropped like a rock, him and the bear both did. Whereas the poor, unharmed-yet-traumatised fuzzy animal quickly scrambled to its feet before sprinting back into the woods, the effectively disarmed male stayed flat on the concrete, out cold.

Tilting your head to the side, you walked up to the unconscious human, your brows furrowing as you wondered why he wasn’t moving.

You sniffed and rubbed at your itching nose, wincing at the horrible stench of roasting rubber. You couldn’t tell if the blood you smelt came from the wounds after the crash, or after the bear.

You gave him a light tap of a foot, checking if he’d wake up anytime soon. When the man didn’t budge, you shrugged and turned to go back to the forest, only to freeze when you were startled by the female he’d been threatening. You’d forgotten she was there, and the woman was far closer than you remembered her to be.

She looked stunned.

Her hands were hovering by her cheeks, palms over her mouth, tears brimming in her eyes as she muttered… a name? It sounded familiar. You didn’t know why. You tilted your head, confused.

“You…” she sobbed, tears now flowing freely. She stammered out, “You don’t remember, do you?”

Who was this woman?

Cautiously, you shook your head. Your was body tense, knees bent and ready to escape if you needed to.

“Nothing? It’s me, Eliza,” another shake of your head. She sniffled, “Eliza Danvers? One of my daughters brought you over for Thanksgiving a few times, you were like a part of our family, before… before… you disappeared.”

Danvers.

You didn’t hear anything past that, the word—name?—had a tremor course through your skull. That was… worrying? It should be worrying, right?

Your hands flashed to your aching temples, gritting your teeth, you croaked out, “D-Dan… Danvers?”

You hadn’t said anything in months. Your throat was probably as painful to use as your voice was to hear.

Eliza’s eyes shined brighter in realization. You were remembering.

“Yes, Danvers! Do you… Do you remember my daughter? She’d been your closest friend. Alex, Alexandra Danvers—”

Static was all you could hear. You dropped to your knees, the pain growing more unbearable the more she spoke. You barely felt the gravel of the road digging into your knees.

Alex?

Alex.

Who was—

“No… Don’t!”

That was… you? Why was this hurting so much? What was going on?

Why didn’t you want to remember?

You felt hands on your shoulders, desperately trying to… to what? Snap you out? Of what? Pain? You didn’t even know why it came up, let alone how to stop it!

Then… then a chill. One you haven’t felt since you encountered… someone. You couldn’t remember them, either.

All you could hear were your instincts.

Instincts…

Your instincts were screaming, frantic in wanting you to leave. To escape.

So you followed them.

Shrugging Eliza’s hands off of your shoulders, you jumped to your feet and swiftly fled into the woods, not turning back once. Not even when you heard her scream a name—yours?—and especially not when you heard the tell-tale swoosh of… a cape? You didn’t know.

Your thoughts made no sense right now. All you wanted was to go back and forget. To go back into the woods and be happy.

Just… be happy.

#Alex Danvers #Reader #x Reader #F!Reader #x F!Reader #Alex Danvers x Reader #Supergirl #Supergirl Fanfic #Supergirl Fic #Eliza Danvers #tw depressing thoughts #tw depressing stuff #tw depressive #tw depression #tw body horror #tw body modification #tw body parts #tw human experimentation

40 notes · View notes

diaryofabeautyfiend · 3 years

Text

Small Time Witch Ch 2

So I guess I’m writing a series. Part two of this story is starting to build my narrative. This story will be a super slow burn. Sorry if you’re looking for smut right off the bat. I like a plot. Check out Marvel Wiki for more info on Witches. Stay tuned for more.

Since Director Fury’s office was on the way to the training room you decided to drop off a few reports to his office. Since you were stopping by his office you decided to bring him what you assumed would be his third cup of coffee. You also knew he hadn’t eaten breakfast so you grabbed him a bagel too. Popping your head around the corner his assistant didn’t look up from the computer screen but she heard you. “He’s not in.” You didn’t say anything. You juggled your things grabbing your bagel with your teeth and headed down to the training room. You turned to push the door open with your back nearly falling over when someone grabbed it for you. You stumbled and almost dropped everything. You did not look up and made your way to the nearest table to set everything down. Fury was waiting watching you struggle.

“Oh hey. I have the third quarter budget ready for you to sign. I brought you a bagel and another cup of coffee. Hot bitter and joyless. Just like you like it.” He laughed. It wasn’t weird to you but everyone else in the room was stunned.

“Thank you, y/l/n. Go easy on them.”

“I make no promises, sir.” He shook his head still laughing to himself and left the room.

You turned around only expecting Loki but all of the Avengers were staring at you. Your bagel was hanging out of your mouth and one earbud was still in. You put it all down and muttered an apology. For a solid thirty seconds they all just stared at you. Tony was the first to break the silence.

“How and I mean HOW did you get Nick Fury to laugh? I swear I didn’t know he had teeth. Hand to God I’ve never even seen him so much as smile. Not even a smirk.” You didn’t answer immediately.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m funny.” You tried to sneak away and sit in the back but Steve stopped you. He directed you to a chair facing everyone and you felt like you were in trouble. Loki and Wanda were in your sight line trying to make you feel comfortable. It wasn’t working.

You were aware of everything around you. Clint tapped his pencil. Natasha shifted in her chair several times. Tony popped his gum. Bucky stood in the back with his arms folded. He had his eyes trained on you. Sam watched Steve. Rhodey checked his phone and sometimes stared out of the window. You heard the fluorescent bulbs buzzing over head. The air conditioning caught the plastic blinds on the window causing them to tap every few seconds. After a moment you were interrupted by Steve clearing his throat.

“Let’s get started. Y/N we are here to talk about your training schedule. We know in the past you were far away from danger in the van. For this next mission we’re afraid you won’t have that luxury. We are asking you to put yourself in harms way...”

“Essentially what Capsicle is trying to say is we won’t be able to protect you so you’ll have to protect yourself.” Tony interjected

Your eyes widened. You wished you could be sandwiched in between Wanda and Loki. They felt so far away even though it was just a few feet. Steve continued, “Are you up for this? We can really use your help but we can’t afford any mistakes. This is a very dangerous endeavor. A lot of moving parts. We won’t have each other’s sixes.”

“Uh yeah. I think I am. When you say training schedule....” Steve handed you a piece of paper with times and initials hand written. It was all in military time.

“0400 is that four in the morning? Like am?”

“Yes, ma’am. I know it’s early but we have a lot of ground to cover. Today you’ll spend half your time with Tony and Rhodey going over the schematics of the buildings we’ll be infiltrating. They’ll show you a replica of the security system and how they think it’s dismantled. The rest of the day with be with Loki. Tomorrow morning is when the physical work begins.”

You read further, “Weapons training?!”

“Yeah. That’s with Clint and Bucky. Nat will work on hand to hand. You’ll work with Sam and I in the gym.” This was all too much. All you could do was nod your head and take it all in. Steve kept talking. You felt like your insides were knotting and pulling. You squirmed in your seat. All of these things were imperceptible to everyone but Loki. He watched you and became more uneasy with every passing moment. Your psyche was reaching for him begging him to step in.

“Captain perhaps we should give Y/N a small break.” Steve clenched his jaw and was visibly irritated at Loki’s mere presence.

“This is important.” he said in a harsh whisper.

“Yes, I understand. You haven’t given her a moment to breathe. She was not forewarned that her first time out with all of you would include such high stakes. Let the poor girl eat her breakfast at least.”

Steve nodded and stepped away. Loki handed you your coffee and gave you a small half smile.

“I suggest you switch to tea. You are too frazzled for caffeine. We will not do anything strenuous this afternoon. You can relax.”

“Thank you. I’m about ready to bolt for the door and tell Fury to fuck off.”

“Now that would be fun to watch. I hope you don’t though. I’d certainly miss you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

He cocked his head to the side and thought for a moment. “No. I suppose you’re right. I feel strangely connected to you though. Your absence would create a hole in my life from which I’m not prepared to recover.”

Strangely you knew what he meant. You felt inexplicably bonded. You sat quietly taking small bites of your bagel while Loki studied you. The din of the room melted away and you felt calm. After a few moments Tony interrupted. “Hey, kid. You’re with us. We’re headed back to the compound.”

“Ok. I’m parked in the garage. I’ll meet you there.”

“Nonsense. Ride with me. I promise I won’t bite.” You laughed but weren’t so sure if he was joking. You looked back at Loki.

“I’ll see you this afternoon. Have fun.” He waved and you followed Tony.

Tony was far more chaotic than everyone else but you sort of enjoyed that about him. He talked fast thought fast and, much to your dismay, drove really really fast. He had a ton of questions for you. You answered but mostly he liked to hear himself talk. He was trying to figure out what headspace you were in. Were you evil? What were your intentions?

His lab was incredible. So many buttons and screens. You enjoyed the whir of the machines and the pattern of beeps and dings. Tony saw you looking around with wonder. He let you take it all in before he got down to business.

“Rhodey is joining us shortly. If you want to take a look here we can get started. Here is a mock up of the security system and the power grid.”

“It looks like the security system runs on its own power source here and the mainframe for power is on the opposite side of the building. I can’t take out both at the same time.”

“How much time will you need at each location?”

You bit your lip and tied your hair back so you could really think. “I’m not sure. There are back up generators. It would make more sense for me to cut power completely to security than to the building. I can be around 100 yards from the actual site so I won’t be detected. Better than going in blind.”

He bit the tip of his pen and smiled “I completely agree. FRIDAY run it.”

“Sure, Boss.”

Rhodey came in and they discussed tactical placement based on reconnaissance from SHIELD. It was tedious but weirdly fun. “Ok, kids. That’s lunch. Good work. High fives all around.”

The rest of the team started to file into the little kitchen off the lab. You helped yourself to a sandwich and a bag of chips. Bucky eyed your choices and you felt judged. “Enjoy those chips now. Once Steve gets a hold of you you’ll only get protein shakes and sadness.”

“Wait...why?”

Sam chimed in, “Cap’s all ‘food is medicine..blah blah blah’. Fact is you need fuel for your body to promote stamina. Cheeseburgers don’t help you run fast.”

You rolled your eyes and they both laughed. “You’ll get used to him.” Bucky added, “or you’ll stab him.”

Speak of the devil. “No stabbing, Buck.”

“But I like stabbing. I’m good at it.” he whined.

You loudly crunched a chip and Steve raised one eyebrow. “Chips huh? That’ll cost you tomorrow.”

“See? Sadness.”

Throughout the rest of lunch you joked and laughed with everyone. You were starting to feel more comfortable. The questions were easier “Where are you from...do you have a family..” You finished chatting and excused yourself to find Loki. Steve caught up with you in the hall.

You could feel that he was tense so you tried to ease his mind a little. “Apologizing again?”

“How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess. You don’t have anything to apologize for. I know what I signed up for.”

“You’re interesting. I don’t know quite how to read you. You seem so timid a lot of the time. I’m afraid to put too much on you. The other times you’re right up in the fray with the team. I don’t know where to step with you.”

“Electrokinesis is not my only power, Captain. I’m an empath. When tensions are high I feel that from everyone and the weight of that can be crushing. When you’re calm I’m calm.” He wasn’t quite sure how to respond . He’s come across all sorts of enhanced people and aliens and gods in the last few years it makes his head spin. This was the first time he had been so intrigued by one.

You glanced at your watch and saw you were late. Steve still looked puzzled. You patted him on the arm, “Ok, Captain. I have to go but good talk.”

“See you at 4. Am. That’s in the morning.”

You smiled at him over your shoulder.

Loki was in a conference room pacing and looking mildly annoyed. He had no real agenda for you today. There was no reason for you to be “on time”. He just hated to be kept waiting. And, the more he sees you the more he wanted to see you. You his little puzzle box aching to be undone. He was so engrossed in thought that he didn’t hear you come in.

“Sorry! I got caught up.”

“I do not like to be kept waiting. You’ll do well to remember for next time.”

You but your lip and furrowed your brows. “I’m sorry. Steve and I were talking and I kind of lost track of time. I won’t let it happen again.” You moved closer to him to touch his arm. You intended to put him in a better mood but he caught your wrist.

“I know what you’re doing. Your tricks won’t work on me, pet.” He squeezed grinding the tiny bones in your wrist, “Do you need to be reminded who is the pupil and who is the teacher? I am a god foolish little girl...”

Before you could stop yourself from saying the words you mumbled, “A demigod”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was silent for several seconds before breaking out into raucous laughter.

“You do have guts I’ll give you that, mortal.” You relaxed a little and laughed too. When he felt your body settle down he pulled you to him so hard your head snapped back.

“Demigod or not I can still split you in half with the flick of my wrist. Now sit.” he growled.

You sat in the chair rubbing your wrist. You fought back tears and didn’t make eye contact with him. He sat across from you and started to speak when he saw your chin quivering. He pulled your face toward his and spoke in a gentle tone, “That smart mouth is going to be the death of you, pet. I’m sorry I lost my temper. When you’ve collected yourself we can finally get started.” You tried to take a deep breath but started sobbing instead. He rolled his eyes and tried to comfort you the best he could. He rubbed your back and silently cursed the fragile mortal ego.

“Please don’t cry. I don’t know what to do when people cry. You know when I was a child it always made me feel better when I hurt Thor. Would that make you feel better hmm? Would you like to hurt Thor?” You laughed. He wiped tears from your face.

“There. That’s my girl. Do you feel better?”

“Yes. I’m sorry I was such an ass earlier. I guess I was over confident with our friendship or whatever this is.”

He scoffed, “Of course we’re friends. I fear we’re more alike than I care to admit. I have learned the hard way that magick can’t always be the answer.” He put his arm around you and pulled you closer to him. You snuggled onto his shoulder. In the stillness of the room you embraced.

He placed his hand on your forehead to extract your memories. Easier to watch instead of talk about it. He saw you running. Saw you pleading with your mother to come with you. Saw you trying to save the younger members of your coven. He heard the screams. The remnants of spells cut short. The roar of Hellfphyr. He felt your fear. Your pain. Your rage. These were things he understood well. Last he saw the most curious thing.

He watched you stand in the field where your coven performed your most sacred of rituals. You retrieved a small piece of parchment from your pocket. You raised your hands to the sky and said the incantation written there. Your eyes turned white and you were bathed in a bright white glow. Once it reached its peak it released and exploded. Everything around you was ash. Fat tears dripped down your face splashing on his hand. “Y/n, tell me about the spell.”

“My mother gave it to me. She said I was the only one strong enough to protect the coven’s magick. I’m not entirely sure what even happened when I did the spell. I blew stuff up I know that.”

He shifted so he could see you. “I think you took in all their magick. That’s what I’m feeling.”

The gears were turning in his head trying to figure out how to access what was inside of you. He paced and bit his thumb nail. Every now and then he would look up to say something but it wouldn’t quite make it out. “Come. It’s late. You need dinner and I need Wanda” he pulled you up by your hands, “Come now, darling. I have planning to do. Text Wanda. Ask her to meet us in the kitchen.”

Wanda was waiting when you got down there. “Hey. Y/N you look wrecked. What did you do to her?” she swung her head to look at Loki. He shook his head.

“I didn’t do anything. Listen. She’s a conduit!”

Wanda’s eyes widened, “No shit.”

“What’s a conduit? You asked but they kept talking over you.

“She performed a spell. I presume it was written by the leaders of her coven. The spell allowed her to take in all their magick when they passed.”

“That’s what we’ve been feeling..”

“HELLO?!” you shouted, “What’s a conduit? I know what the word means but in magical terms what does it mean?”

Wanda and Loki looked at you like they forgot you were there.

“When you did the spell you took in all the magick your coven had. All of their abilities all of the power that manifested on those sacred grounds now reside in you. Your mother must have known or else she wouldn’t have taught so hard to keep you safe.” Loki explained.

“Y/N do you have anything that belonged to your mother? The other members of your coven? Loki, maybe if she has something of theirs we can channel that energy.”

“Yeah my place. Let’s go. Shit. I don’t have my car. I’ll get us a ride.” You pulled out your phone and scrolled your contacts. You dialed Fury’s number. “Director Fury. I’m at the compound. Loki Wanda and I need to get to my car so I can get home. We discovered something. I need a ride.”

“Be outside in five.” He sounded less than amused.

“Thank you, sir” you hang up, “Ok. Our ride is on its way.”

They both looked at you like you grew another head. “Ok one day your are going to have to explain your relationship with Fury. Like who has his number?”

“He knows power when he sees it.” Loki said under his breath.

“You have explaining to do.”

“Later. Let’s get going.”

You moved quickly to the front gate constantly looking over your shoulder like you were doing something wrong. It’s not like you weren’t free to come and go. Not like you lived there. You just felt like you were escaping. It didn’t help that Bucky appeared out of nowhere.

“Where are you three off to?”

“My place.” He cocked an eyebrow and fixated on Loki.

“Witch stuff.” Wanda said to distract him. Just as he started to walk away a chopper descended in the open field. That ought to get everyone’s attention.

“That’s us!” You yelled motioning for the helicopter. Loki gave Bucky a thumbs up and smiled as you ascended.

Once all three of you had your cans on the pilot informed you that you’d be to your condo in less than 20 minutes.

“So we have time. Explain to me why Fury is so invested in you.”

“Just like Loki said. I’m powerful. He knows it. Just like he tried to acquire you but Hydra got to you first. Wanda it is no secret amongst the magical community that you are the most powerful witch alive. I’m surprised the Kales haven’t come after you.”

“Who are they?”

“A family with an ancient bloodline who controls the demon Helphyr. They sent it to murder my family. I was the only survivor. Now I know why. They won’t stop coming after me.”

That made Loki nervous and crazy angry. “You should come back to the compound with us. We can protect you.”

“No you can’t. I’m safer alone. My condo is warded. And if they come for me, they come. I won’t put any of you in harms way. I especially won’t endanger the lives of America’s mightiest heroes. You two can hold your own. The rest of them wouldn’t survive.”

Wanda looked out the window at the city sparkling beneath her. She thought about what Steve once said about everyone having their own agenda. She supposed she was part of Fury’s. She was well aware of her power but made her own choices. She was afraid that, because you were in such high favor with Fury, he was attempting to get you to persuade her to join SHIELD. The compound was her home. They were her family. She would never leave them.

She kept staring at you. You could feel her tension rising. You held her hand but didn’t attempt to influence her. You just held her hand. She and Loki were the closest friends you had right now. Sure Fury always has an agenda. It’s not exactly what Wanda thought. Fury’s personal mission was to never let any one group gain too much power. He knew it was a risk to introduce you to the two of them. You’re loyal to no one really. So, he treats you with more kindness than he extends to anyone else and takes good care of you. Loki wouldn’t completely join forces with you. You were a small time witch as far as he was concerned being a demigod and all. But you and Wanda joining forces could be devastating. That would certainly rankle the magical and mutant communities alike. Fury couldn’t have that. That’s why he put you under the watchful eyes of the Avengers. They are just enough to keep you from going rogue. But just though.

#captain america x reader #mcu x reader #steve rogers fanfic #loki of asgard #loki x reader #slow burn #mcu witches #marvel au #tony stark

41 notes · View notes

mewmedic · 3 years

Text

An Offering, Chapter 3

Read it on AO3 here.

Summary: “Never, not even a killer deserves that.” Claudette replied, with genuine disgust on her face. She may be unable to hurt a fly, but she wouldn't hurt a murderer? Meg could understand the fear of retaliation from them, but if she could get away with attacking a killer, she would totally do it. Claudette was just too sweet, and the strong must protect the sweet. Claudette’s face was wrought with worry, like she wanted to say something but was afraid. “Meg, have you ever thought that maybe they don’t want to hunt us down?”

Warnings: None.

Notes: So this Chapter is technically shorter than chapter two but it is way longer than I expected. Whoops.

Meg sat on a log, hugging her knees, while staring into the red-hot abyss that was the campfire. She couldn’t help but let her mind wonder over Claudette’s gentleness she experienced just a few hours ago. She really hoped Claudette wasn’t creeped out by all the hand holding and that hug. She didn’t want to rush Claudette into something she wasn’t comfortable with, but unfortunately speed was kind of Meg’s whole thing. Was she just being nice to her because she didn’t want to rock the boat? Claudette seemed like the type of person who would do that.

The girl was torn from her thoughts when she felt another trial was incoming so she uncurled her body. It was only a matter of minutes before the other three were present at the campfire as well. She spotted the satchel of herbs in Claudette’s palms and decided to take an initiative with the conversation. Meg figured Claudette wasn’t the best at commanding attention through dialog. There was nothing wrong with that of course, she was clearly just an introvert.

“Claudette and I found a plant called crispleaf amaranth. She thinks it might help us survive longer in a trial.” Meg tried to speak in a very series and concise tone, so the boys would take her seriously.

“Well, it’s not a bag of weed so I doubt it will do much.” Jake snorted, like he though what he said was just so clever. This fucking guy. Always had to be a contrarian. Well Meg had something coming for him.

“I saw you unhook and heal Dwight last trial. So maybe you secretly think these offerings work too! Or maybe you’re too scared to admit some flowers manipulated you into being nice for once!” Meg’s whole face had scrunched tight in frustration. With each word she said, she stepped closer to the man and then punctuated her anger with a finger pushing at his chest.

“It’s true. Even if it’s a placebo effect we still had decent results.” Dwight added to the discussion with what seemed like reluctance, his eyes shifted and he rubbed his knuckles awkwardly. Meg being an extrovert, Dwight and Claudette being introverts, and Jake being whatever the hell he was sure lead to some interesting dynamics. Jake shot his view from Dwight to Meg rapidly, looking like a cornered animal ready to bounce back. He was clearly trying to come up with something to say, but then Claudette began to speak.

“Meg told me about the trial. If Dwight had been injured when Meg was opening the gate, he wouldn’t have been able to take a hit for her. You did the right thing Jake, thank you.” Claudette’s kind tone quickly washed away the tension. Meg stepped back from Jake while he deflated his chest in embarrassment. She was dumbfounded by Claudette’s never-ending patience towards Jake’s petty quips. Meg was aware she wasn’t blameless either with her snapping at him, but goddammit, someone needs to make him be a team player. The fog began to creep in on the four survivors so Claudette quickly tossed the satchel into the flames.

***

The exit gates had been powered on and Meg was being chased by a killer they all call ‘The Wraith.’ He had been chasing her since the final generator had lit up so someone had to be close to opening a gate by now. She was injured and had been hooked twice, so she just had to find a gate and fast. Relief blessed her when she saw the three glowing red bulbs of an exit gate in the distance, with Claudette manning the switch.

“Open it, open it, open it!” Meg panicked, narrowly dodging an attack from the monster’s disgusting blade.

“It’s almost there- It’s- It’s done!” Claudette was just as stressed as Meg; she could see an injury on her arm now that she had rounded the corner of a wooden wall. The door of the gate began to move swiftly but Claudette was transfixed to the switch. “Wha-What about Dwight and Jake?!”

“They can leave through the other gate! He’s gonna have to chase us out!” Meg had finally reached Claudette and grabbed her by the hand, ushering her past the opened gate. The two ducked together as the beast swung one last time and tumbled over the threshold into the fog. They were safe, for now, all they could do now is wait for the boys. It only took about a minute for the two to emerge into the fog, both of them leaning on each other for support as they stumbled.

“Aha! Now you can’t deny that offering worked. I bet none of us can even recall the last time we all got out alive.” Meg proudly boasted.

“We won’t know for sure until we test it more.” Jake stated, trying to sound calm and collected under the pain of his bleeding. Claudette approached Jake and looked like she was going to start dressing his wounds but was stopped by Dwight.

“J-Jake and I can tend to our wounds. You two can get more off-offerings.” Dwight added, his teeth nearly clattering as he talked. Claudette curled her index finger as if to beckon Meg to her tent and the walk together. She quickly entered her tent and returned with her trowel, a satchel, and some medical supplies. The two sat down cross legged in front of each other.

“I want to show you how I heal myself without a med kit. I take this gauze out of a kit and stuff as much I can in my pockets. I also keep a wipe on me to clean the blood off wounds first. It’s not as clean a kit heal so it takes a longer.” Claudette explained matter-of-factually. Meg was dumbfounded, she had no idea Claudette even did this.

There were periods in trials where Meg wouldn’t see her, this is what she must be doing during those times. Meg was aware that Claudette could heal herself better than her own teammates could, or maybe she just didn’t want to burden them? She needed to improve her healing skills either way. Claudette cleansed the blood running across the gash on the outside of her wrist. “Okay, so after you clean the blood off your skin… You can pin the beginning of the unrolled side of gauze in place with the thumb of your injured hand, then wrap it around your arm upwards.”

As Claudette instructed, she began to cover her slashed arm in gauze. Meg’s eyes were glued to her actions. “If the gauze bleeds through on placement, you don’t want to take it off. That can do more harm than good. It’s better just to wrap around that area with another layer. After that, tie up the ends and wiggle your finger to check the circulation.” Claudette did exactly what she described and handed Meg her supplies.

Meg’s injury was also on her arm, so she was at least able to imitate the other’s actions easily. She cleaned her wound, unraveled the gauze upward, and tied it off. Claudette leaned in and inspected the bandages as Meg stretched her fingers. Meg privately enjoyed the brief moment of closeness but anxiously waited to hear the other’s judgment. “You did well.” She said kindly. Meg pumped her fist in the air victoriously.

The two girls stood and clasped each other’s hands, leaving the campsite for the fog. Meg looked over her shoulder and watched the twinkling of the fire get smaller and smaller. The only sound now was the thuds of their footsteps and their quiet breathing. The foggy expanse ahead of them eventually revealed a small array of flowers in the short distance. Meg and Claudette shot each other amused glances as they quickly approached the blooms. The petals were ruffled with pink edges that changed to a vibrant red in the center. The burst of color shocked Meg, she never imagined something so bright could be out here in the void. The primrose they originally found was quite nice, but whatever flower this was really knocked it out of the park.

“This is sweet william, it is often used a symbol for passion and courage. The Roman goddess of the hunt, Diana, once plucked out the eyes of a man who had angered her. This flower grew from the dirt where his eyes fell.” Claudette enthusiastically explained.

“Wow, she sounds like a badass. Maybe we can channel some of that boldness with these?” Meg suggested, jovially posing her free hand like a claw.

“What?! I don’t want to rip anybody’s eyes out!” Claudette gasped and winced at the gruesome thought.

“C’mon, not even a killer?” Meg tilted her head, intrigued by the other’s reaction.

“Never, not even a killer deserves that.” Claudette replied, with genuine disgust on her face. She may be unable to hurt a fly, but she wouldn't hurt a murderer? Meg could understand the fear of retaliation from them, but if she could get away with attacking a killer, she would totally do it. Claudette was just too sweet, and the strong must protect the sweet. Claudette’s face was wrought with worry, like she wanted to say something but was afraid. “Meg, have you ever thought that maybe they don’t want to hunt us down?”

“I… No, I haven’t.” Meg was aghast, she did her best to hold back a gaping jaw. She wanted to hear her out.

“It’s possible someone hurt them too. Both Trapper and Hillbilly’s are covered in scars, and Wraith… When I look at him, I see anger, but I also see fear.” Claudette just sounded so somber with her words. Meg was astounded that Claudette could notice something like that and felt ashamed that she couldn’t. “I think if something is keeping us here, it also must be have trapped them somewhere.”

Meg actually had considered there had been some sort of higher power controlling their new world. How else do could she explain the freaky claws that take them away when they die? Who teleports them to the trials? Who even brought them here in the first place? She assumed maybe this being worked for the killers or maybe were equals with them. Never could she imagine these murderers worked for whatever had abducted her. Was there truly something more dangerous than them? Her head was spinning and she need to stop thinking about this right now.

She knelt down to the flowers and the other followed suit. Claudette seemed to take the hint that Meg was overwhelmed with existential dread as she moved on to digging with her trowel. The sweet william was neatly planted in her satchel. She then plucked one of the flowers and gently placed it above Meg’s ear. She revealed a coy smile as Meg’s face turned red from the gesture. Meg was frozen for a moment; all her thoughts were gone. All she could come up with was to swiftly mirror Claudette’s actions, she ripped a flower out and awkwardly set it on her ear too.

Claudette giggled at the action and Meg just realized they were leaning towards each other gradually. They were intimately close now so she could study Claudette’s features. Her eyes were endlessly dark, she felt like she could dive into them and never return, and she would never want to either. Her brown lips looked warm and inviting, and they were getting larger as they continued to close the distance.

“Can I… Can I kiss you?” Meg quietly asked.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Claudette tenderly answered.

Their lips brushed together and embraced the softness. The quiet of the fog was disrupted by fireworks exploding in Meg’s mind. She closed her eyes and the fear of killers their cruel god evaporated like they were nothing. Even if Meg were trapped in hell, at least Claudette could be her angel in this moment. The world was just Meg Thomas and Claudette Morel now. However, this peace could never last so the two retreated their lips. Meg knew they had to return to the camp eventually, and by the way Claudette was gripping her hand tightly, she must have known too. The two stood up together and began to walk back in the direction they came from.

“So… Are we dating now?” Claudette blurted out. Meg’s breath hitched in her throat and she choked a little.

“Erm, we can be if you want.” Meg nervously scratched at her neck and glanced away.

“I do want to be dating you.” Claudette playfully declared with a bashful smile.

“You do? Cool. ‘Cause I do too.” Meg responded casually, trying to act like it was no big deal.

Dating? In this nightmare? The only thing stranger than being trapped in a realm where monsters kill you over and over again would be finding love in said realm. Love? Is that what this is? Was it too soon to tell? Meg had a habit of jumping to conclusions, after all, that was what brought her to follow Claudette into the fog in the first place. Maybe this was more of a leap of faith? Oh god, she’s letting her mind go wild again.

The obscured glow of the campfire reaching her view snapped her out of those thoughts. The light got brighter and brighter until finally they were home. She didn’t want to think of this place as her home, but with Claudette by her side, it would be okay for now. Meg didn’t want them to go back to their tents like they normally would, she wanted this date to last a little bit longer. As if Claudette could read her mind, she guided her to sit on a log near the flames. So together they sat in silence, still holding hands, under the eternal night.

#Dead by Daylight #DbD #Meg Thomas #Claudette Morel #Megdette

7 notes · View notes

drabbledragon · 4 years

Text

Linktober: Fall

Still a few days behind but I’m catching up! I’ll be up to date in no time!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749021/chapters/65731681

Summary: One of the Links is always changing, just like the leaves in fall.

Warnings: Swearing

Day 6: Fall

This forest was unlike anything the group had ever encountered before. Tall Aspen trees towered over them and created a mosaic of red, orange, and yellow up in the treetops, and a small stream trickled peacefully by small river rocks. The dirt ground beneath them was laden with hoof tracks and piles of leaves, with no indication that humans nor Hylians have ever stepped foot in this very forest. The place was wild, breathtaking, and absolutely beautiful in all its untamed might.

“It appears that we’re stuck in between eras.” The Hero of Time had concluded. The group discussion they had had a little while ago turned out to be inconclusive, with their best guess being a time between Twilight’s and Wild’s eras - but even that claim was a bit shaky.

Sky stepped forward and curiously looked at the trees around him. “ We haven’t seen any monsters here yet,” He turned back and regarded the other heroes with pinched brows, “ So do you guys think we’re in a time where Ganon doesn’t exist?”

“We very well could be.” Warriors chimed in.

The heroes had broken out into another murmured discussion about the matter, each one of them trying to figure out why exactly the Goddess would send them to a timeline with no destruction and no one to save. Among those several heroes was Four, eyes distant as his four personalities argued in his head.

C’mon, Blue, it’ll be fun!

Red, I’m not going to act like a five year - old and jump into a pile of leaves.

Awww, please? They’re so colorful and pretty and they make a cool crunch sound when you step on them! And this might be our only chance to relax and have some fun! Plus you heard Sky: there are no monsters here so we don’t have to worry about getting attacked or anything!

One, that’s not what Sky said; Sky said that we haven’t seen any monsters yet, meaning that there could very well be monsters, but just hidden. Two, how do you think the others would react? They’ll most likely treat us like little kids after, and I don’t want to be teased all the time like Wind.

But Vioooo, it’s just a little pile of leaves. Maybe everyone else will join when they see us jump in first! The corner of Four’s lips twitched.

Guys, Warriors is talking to us.

The Hero of the Four Sword was startled back into reality, and nearly shrunk under the captain’s expectant gaze. Struggling to find his voice, he stuttered out a quick, “ H - huh?”

“I asked you what you thought about the situation.” The Hero of Warriors frowned. Then with a placement of hands on hips and a raised brow, the man questioned, “ Were you even listening to a thing I’ve been saying?”

“Oh, um ...” The silence between them was palpable, and no matter how much of four’s personalities tried to rack their brains for the captain’s recent words, all they could think about was Red’s excitable personality bubbling to the surface. Green could feel himself quickly becoming suppressed under his red counterpart’s desire to let loose and have some fun, and he could feel his gaze flickering more and more to the piles of leaves rather than Warriors’s face. Three - quarters of him begged Red not to give in to his impulsivity, but they were fighting a losing battle, and Red was clearly the victor.

Four was pushing past Warriors before he even knew it.

Seven curious faces and an offended Warriors watched as their smallest hero leapt into the pile of foliage, giggling and smiling as colorful leaves fluttered around him like winter’s snow. His face was alight with newfound joy as he mindlessly tossed red, orange, and yellow leaves into the air, and for once, he felt like just another child enjoying a crisp autumn day. He idly wondered how long it had been since he was last able to be his exuberant self - to just abandon his duty as a knight and enjoy the small joys in life. He abruptly froze.

Red! What did you do? Everyone’s staring!

Oh my Goddesses, they’re never gonna let us live this down.

If we have to explain ourselves, you’re the one who’ll have to do it.

Red looked to the remaining heroes with tears in his eyes. Oh man, what’s he going to say?

He startled when a rush of blue and blonde jumped into the pile of leaves next to him.

“Woohoo!” Wind shouted when he popped his head out the pile, leaves and twigs tangled into his hair. He looked to the Hero of the Four Sword and beamed, “ That was really fun! Let’s do that again, Four!”

And the Hero of the Four Sword glowed, his red eyes bright with elation.

Not long after, Wild, Hyrule, and a newly - transformed Wolfie had joined in, each one of them caught in a fit of giggles and whoops as they hopped from leaf pile to leaf pile. It appeared that the heroes' concern about being dropped into an unfamiliar Hyrule had slowly dribbled away, giving way to amusement as they watched the five heroes let loose and enjoy themselves. With a warm smile, Time decided,

“I guess we’ll be staying here for the night.”

Dusk had quickly approached soon after, causing fading rays of sunlight to shine weakly through the trees. The Hero of Twilight and the Hero of the Four Sword walked purposefully through the forest, the former remaining in his Twili form as the two scoured the area for food.

The smaller of the two heroes took out his makeshift - shopping list Wild had given him, and scanned it over for the umpteenth time.

Well we have the mushrooms and apples the cook asked for, so we’re really just missing the honey.

We know, Vio. Can you just stop looking over that thing every five seconds? It’s starting to piss me off.

Wolfie questioningly looked back as he heard the paper crumple in the other’s hands, but Four simply ignored him.

Blue, it’s okay! I’m sure Vio’s doing his best! Plus it’s hard for us to remember things, right? So it’s okay for him to check back every once in a while.

Sure, but every five fucking seconds? None of us have memory issues that bad; Vio’s either messing with us or actually has amnesia like Wild.

Hey, look!

Red, Blue, and Vio all looked to where Green mentally motioned. There it was: their last ingredient was hanging on a high branch just above them, the bee’s nest swinging idly in the cool breeze.

“It’s really high up,” Twilight pursed his lips, his form now that of a Hylian’s. “ Maybe I can grab it with my Clawshot.” He was just about to search for his aforementioned tool when a sudden snort caught his attention.

“Really, Wolfboy? You need something like that to get a little bee’s nest? I can get that with my bow and arrow in one shot, no doubt.”

The Hero of Twilight looked over the other with obvious skepticism. “ Blue eyes, huh? So I guess Blue’s the one doing the talking.” Then with a taunting smirk, he asked, “ Hmph, up for a little challenge?”

Blue, just please say no.

“You bet your furry ass I am!”

Green mentally facepalmed.

“Then it’s settled,” Twilight said, taking out an orange Rupee and waving it around. “ First one to get the beehive gets 100 Rupees.”

100 Rupees? Blue gawked, that was going to be an easy win! With Vio’s precision and Green’s coordination, the four of them were guaranteed to win! Blue reached down to his bag to find his Bow, but paused when he felt that something was off. With a slow glance down, he was slightly horrified to find that his tunic was completely blue.

He quickly swivelled on his heels and frowned to see his three counterparts smiling right back at him. “Hey, seriously?! You guys are quitting on me just like that?!”

“Well you’re the one that wanted to challenge Twilight, not us.” Vio shrugged. “ So if you want to win, then do it fairly.”

“Yeah,” Red chimed in. “ I wanna see you win!”

Blue gritted his teeth. Really? His three other counterparts were bailing on him just because of something so stupid as playing fair? They were all part of the same person, for Hylia’s sake; using each one of their abilities was totally fair! He shrunk when he felt Twilight’s shadow looming over him.

“Well, Blue?” His eyes darted over to the Ordonian’s smirk. “ Is our competition still on? Or do you just wanna hand me my 100 Rupees now?”

There was a moment of hesitance from Four’s blue counterpart until he finally shouted back, “ You’re on, Furball!”

The two heroes each positioned themselves on either side of the tree, bows readily aimed at their unsuspecting prize. Blue did his best not to tremble under the pressure, but after taking a glance at the cool, calm, and collected Ordonian standing right across from him, he couldn’t help but feel his confidence wane like a dying fire.

“Ready ...” Green drawled from a distance, hand raised readily in the air.

Blue took a steadying breath. He could do this; just one little hit at the bee’s nest’s stem and those 100 Rupees were as good as his.

“Go!”

The call caused two arrows to fly simultaneously through the air like a quick gust of wind, both projectiles aimed at the same target. They both sliced through the air at an amazing speed but just as Blue had feared, Twilight’s arrow had reached the nest first, easily nicking the stem and sending the hive falling towards the ground.

But Blue wasn’t done yet. He may have lost the battle, but he’ll win the war.

Four’s blue counterpart broke into a sprint almost immediately after, arms strewn out in an attempt to catch the nest. He had successfully caught it when it was just a hair’s breadth away from hitting the ground, and he couldn’t help but cheer out in victory; but he had poorly miscalculated his win, because the next thing he knew, his degree of momentum had sent him tumbling towards the ground with a roll, and the steep decline of the hill only seemed to spur him on. He eventually ended up in a nearby stream not long after, with arms raised above his head in order to avoid the beehive from getting wet while the rest of him was currently drowning underwater. When he was finally able to gain his bearings, he sat up and looked to his three counterparts and the Ordonian looking back at him from the top of the hill, Vio and Twilight doing their best to hold in their laughter while Red and Green didn’t even bother.

Wild was cooking later that night, the smell of Glazed Mushrooms and Honeyed Apples wafting through the air in a tantalizing manner. Four sat blissfully next to the small campfire, and watched quietly as the group’s resident cook stirred the pot once again.

The Hero of Wilds pursed his lips as he said, “I honestly thought there would be more honey in that hive, but since we’re in a weird sorta Hyrule - limbo, I guess it would make sense if everything was a little bit off.”

Yes, Blue, it is weird that there wasn’t much honey in there.

Blue’s sudden flare of anger caused Four’s jaw to stiffen.

Y’know what, Vio? How about you go get the honey next time? I can sit there and supervise you while you do it and after you’re done drowning in a river, I can go over and laugh at you.

It’s your fault for challenging Twilight like that; you knew he would win.

Hey, doesn’t that smell like dad’s cooking?

The four of them sharpened their focus to the warm smell that was coming from the pot, and each one of them hummed in agreement.

Yeah, you’re kinda right, Red.

I wonder what he’s up to, him being the head knight and all.

Oooo, you think he’s drinking hot chocolate right now? I bet that vendor in Castletown is already selling some!

Idiot, he’s probably working his ass off protecting the castle! He doesn’t have time for stupid stuff like that!

“I miss him.”

Every personality within Four inwardly gasped at Green’s sudden words, and none of them missed the confused side - glance Wild gave them.

The cook’s brows pinched together as he said, “ You missing someone?”

“I, uh -” Green, who was now forcibly shoved to the front to deal with their situation, racked his brain for a way to explain himself; but when none came, he eventually settled on a wistful sigh and said, “ Yeah, I just miss my dad.”

“Oh yeah? What’s he up to now?”

“Well, he’s the head knight in my Hyrule, so he’s probably off protecting Zelda and stuff like that.” A nostalgic smile crossed his lips. “ When I was a little kid, my dad always used to make me fresh - cooked eggs and honeyed fruit for breakfast, and just before he headed out, he would always tell me how much he loved me even when I was a little brat, and I would always give him the biggest hug back. It’s been awhile since I’ve last seen him, but I know he misses me a lot, and he’s eagerly waiting for the day I come back home.” He nonchalantly shrugged. “ I guess you’re cooking just reminded me of him.”

Green sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. What was he thinking telling Wild of all people about his family?! He knew the Hero of Wilds’s was very sensitive about the matter, and for Green to just go on and practically brag about how his family was still alive and well? What an idiot!

But to Four’s pleasant surprise, the cook simply answered back with a longing smile. “ I got a few people I’ve been missing, too: my Zelda, Impa, Sidon - I know they’re all their wits end trying to figure out where the hell I went, so hopefully we’ll be able to stop by my Hyrule soon and I could explain to them what’s going on.” He propped a cheek on one of his hands and wondered aloud, “ I wonder if we could visit Sidon first. It’s been a while since I’ve last seen him and I did promise him that we’d go swimming at Palmorae Beach soon.”

Green smiled. At least they all had someone to go home to.

The full moon casted a beautiful light across their camp tonight, and the peaceful and quiet atmosphere seemed to compel the heroes into talking about their adventures again.

“Okay, but did you really fight the moon?”

“Perhaps, but that’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

“Jeeze, Old Man, you’re such a tease.”

The camp seemed alight with cheer and good banter, but one of the Links was quiet, plate in hand and eyes glued onto his shadow.

Warriors. Sleep. Snore.

Vio’s eyes lit up with mundane amusement. He had figured out what his shadow was trying to say: Warriors was caught snoring one night, and to be honest, it was pretty hilarious to watch in Shadow’s opinion.

Out of the four personalities that resided in Four’s body, Vio had become the best at deciphering what Shadow was trying to say, and that was pretty impressive considering the latter had to use some modified form of sign language so the four of them could actually see the signs he was trying to make. Having your shadow hold a hand in front of its own body did make it impossible to pull any kind of meaning from it, after all.

“Your shadow: it’s facing the wrong direction.”

Red, Blue, and Green all startled at the Hero of Time’s sudden observation, but Vio was good at keeping up appearances in tense situations. With a flash of disinterested violet eyes, he glanced to Time and explained in a hush voice, “ It’s a side effect of the Four Sword; the magic held by it seemed to change everything about us.”

The leader of the group regarded him for a few more tense seconds before tiredly sighing, “ Ah, the things you poor boys went through. If I could’ve prevented any of your adventures from ever happening, I would.” And with that being said, Time turned back to the rest of the Links, an amused smile on his lips as he watched their antics.

Hylia, Vio, you just saved all of our asses.

Yeah, did you see that scary look Time was giving us?! I almost couldn’t breathe for a second!

Do you think he’ll just let us live this down? Like do you think he’ll ever bring this up again?

Thank you. Vio.

Vio smiled at Shadow’s gratitude. He had saved all of his counterparts from a terrible interrogation and from a chance of being casted away from the group just because he was technically some derivative of a Dark Link.

A sigh blew through his nose.

Sure, Shadow may have been an enemy hellbent on killing every single one of Four’s personalities before but he had changed, coming to the realisation that Vaati’s wish to plunge all of Hyrule into darkness was beyond cruel, and he had taken to sacrificing himself all for the sake of making sure that Red, Blue, Green, and Vio were able to save the kingdom in time. Shadow was on their side - every one of Four’s counterparts were sure of it - but the rest of the Links wouldn’t understand.

But things change, just like the leaves in fall, and just like Four’s personalities.

#linkeduniverse #hero of four swords #fanfic #linktober2020

19 notes · View notes

emetoandotherthings · 4 years

Text

Meet: Lorelai

A/N: So I know I haven’t posted here in an age... and this isn’t my normal type fic, but I wrote it a while ago and this is me finally getting round to typing it up. So here, meet Lorelai!

Damian had seen her on the same bus as him several times before. He’d noticed her, yawning on the early morning route, or tucking strands of her hair, which had fallen from her dark bun, behind her ears. Damian had smiled politely at her as he travelled to and from the hospital for placement.

A few times, Damian had found himself watching her - noticing that she was wearing scrub-like trousers, and trainers, along with her hair drawn up. He assumed, with the evidence, that she was a nurse, or a healthcare assistant, but he never saw her getting off the bus at the same stop as him at the hospital; and sometimes she was already on the bus when he clambered on at the end of a shift.

That was the case on that Thursday evening as Damian wearily embarked the bus. He’d ended up staying over an hour later than he should have finished, and he was rather looking forwards to getting home. His head was aching, and so were his feet, but he was still able to smile at the girl sitting across the aisle. She was very pretty, Damian thought, her dark hair a little untidy and her red lips contrasting her pale skin. She turned her head and caught his eye; slightly embarrassed that he’d been caught looking at her, he turned his head and stared out of the bus window.

Damian yawned, leaning his head against the cool glass of the window. It had been a long, and very busy, shift - they’d had three separate car accidents. Each one had its own complexities, and Damian had been allowed to help with some of the more serious resus patients. While he was pleased that he was beginning to be trusted with such treatments, it meant that he’d hardly had any breaks for the whole shift. It was only now, while sitting on the bus that he felt the dull grumble of an empty stomach.

Pulling out his nearly finished water bottle, he took a few glugs of water, then pushed it back into his bag. He’d have to wait until he got home until he got home until he could get something to eat. He leant back against the glass, wishing that the bus would go quicker, but it stopped often as people got on and off as they headed back to the student area of town.

His eyes were starting to feel heavy and droopy just as the bus rounded the corner onto the long road which led to Damian’s flat. He made sure that his bag was definitely zipped shut and stood up from his seat. His head swam as he got up, and he flung his hand out to grab on to the pole. He clung on, swaying precariously as the bus slowed towards Damian’s stop; he stumbled over his own feet as the bus halted. He only just managed to force out a thanks to the driver before he nearly fell out onto the pavement.

The colder outside air hit his face, and his whole body felt like it was doing a jump from a diving board - falling in mid air before jerking to a stop. He could feel his knees trembling, and the impending sensation that he was going to pass out.

He was glad that there was no one sitting on the metal perch inside the bus stop as he staggered towards it, dumping his backpack down onto his feet as he sat down rather heavily. He took a few deep breaths in through his nose, and sunk his head into his hands, realising that as he did, his hands were shaking. He closed his eyes, trying to dispel the shaky, light-headedness, at least enough to get himself back to his flat. He tried to count back within his head when the last time he actually ate something, but trying to figure out was making his head hurt.

He opened his eyes, and almost at the same time a hand holding something appeared right in front of his face.

“Eat this.” A voice came from right beside him, and he jumped slightly in surprise.

The bus had drawn away from the stop, and any other disembarking passengers had headed off in their own home directions. All except the dark haired girl who Damian had smiled at on the bus. He blinked, feeling afraid for a second that he might be hallucinating, but then she shook her head again.

“Here, eat - I can tell low blood sugar when I see it,” she repeated, and he looked down at the cereal bar held in her hand.

“I can’t,” he shook his head, and was surprised at how stable his voice sounded even as his insides felt wobbly.

“You can,” she insisted. “I keep it in my bag for exactly a reason such as this.” He shook his head again.

“Sorry, I’m not meaning to be impolite,” he explained, “it’s just - I’m coeliac, so-”

“Ah, gluten,” her hand with the cereal bar in it dropped, and Damian nodded.

“Yeah, thanks though,” he nodded; the girl flipped open the lid to her bag and replaced the cereal bar within it.

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything gluten free with me,” she said, “I’ve got some water if you’d like some of that?” She drew out a water bottle and offered that out to him.

“Are you sure?” He hesitated.

“I wouldn’t be offering if I wasn’t,” she smiled, and Damian noticed that her eyes sparkled when she did.

“Thank you,” he accepted the bottle and took a drink, then handed it back.

“Do you live far from here?” She asked conversationally, putting the bottle back into her bag.

“Just up to the next right turn and down that street really,” Damian told her, not entirely sure that he wanted to tell her exactly where he lived. After all, he didn’t really know this girl - he didn’t even know her name!

“Are you feeling up to walking now?” She asked.

“I think I’ll just sit here for another minute,” he said.

“I’ll walk you back - I don’t want you flaking out all alone in the street.”

“You really don’t have to,” Damian said again.

“It’s on my way anyway,” she waved her hand. “I’m on Pentland Walk.”

“Isn’t that like another two stops on the bus?” Damian questioned, his eyebrows raising.

“Well yeah,” she agreed, grinning a little sheepishly. “But it’s a nice night…” She added, slightly lamely; Damian looked at her rather inquisitively, and she folded. “Alright, I saw you stumble on the bus and I worried, okay?”

“Well, I -” Damian stammered, rather flustered. “I’m alright, really.”

“That’s good, but I know what low blood sugar can do so I wanted to check,” she folded her arms, “better safe than sorry. And if I’d read an article on Facebook tomorrow about some guy getting mugged or hurt on his way home, then I’d’ve felt bad. So I’ll walk you your way home.” She said this with a finality of sort that Damian didn’t want to argue.

“Okay,” he said, gently easing himself up from the metal bench, glad that his legs weren’t shaking so bad anymore. “Let’s walk then.”

“Right you are,” she adjusted her bag on her shoulder, waiting for him to take a few steps before falling in alongside him. Damian looked down slightly, trying to think of something else to say.

“So are you a nurse?” He asked.

“Of sorts,” she shrugged.

“Of sorts?” He repeated. “How can you be sort of a nurse?”

“I’m a veterinary nurse,” she said. “So yes to the nurse bit, just not with humans.”

“Oh…” Damian was slightly blindsided by this. “I guess it’s more difficult when your patient can’t talk to you…”

“In a way, yes,” she nodded, “but a lot of them do communicate in one way or another. I’m Lorelai, by the way.” She added at the end, and Damian felt slightly embarrassed that he hadn’t asked her name after she’d gotten off the bus to check he was alright.

“Damian,” he replied, sure that the darkness of the evening would hide the flush he knew would be creeping up his face.

“And I’m assuming you’re something at the hospital?” She pressed further.

“I’m on placement there,” he said, then to explain further added: “I’m studying medicine.”

“Oh a brainbox then!” She commented, and Damian couldn’t quite tell whether she was joking with him or not.

“No - I’d - I’d hardly say that!” Damian felt flustered again, and Lorelai let out a ringing laugh.

“It’s not easy to get into medicine! Even I know that,” she said, then smiled as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “It was a compliment.” She told him gently.

“I, um - thanks,” he answered, still feeling embarrassed. He was glad that they’d reached the low wall which split to lead up to the front door to his flat. “This is my flat,” he said, pointing upwards to indicate the building. “Thank you for walking me back, you really didn’t need to.”

Lorelai smiled, then held out her hand with her palm up.

“Give me your phone,” she commented, firmly but kindly.

“S-sorry?” Damian asked.

“Your phone,” she repeated, and before Damian realised it he’d taken his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it and placed it in her hands.

“I’m putting my number in your contacts,” she told him, her fingers gliding across the screen, “so you can let me know that you’ve managed to eat something and are back to full strength.”

“You really - really don’t need to, y’know?” Damian protested, feeling his cheeks burn again.

“Damian,” she looked directly at him as she handed his phone back across, “I’ve been trying this whole time to hit on you, so now you’ve got my number… I’d like a text from you, if you’re interested, okay?” Damian simply stared at her for a few moments, a little taken aback by how direct she was. “But now, go and get something to eat,” she instructed, “and I’ll be hearing from you… I hope.”

And with that, Lorelai turned and walked away to the end of the street, giving him a small wave before she turned the corner.

Damian stood, dumb struck, trying to take in what had just happened. Had that pretty girl from the bus really got off to check that he was okay? He looked down at his phone, and saw the new entry in his contacts list, which plainly read: Lorelai.

#Est writes #fic #light headed #dizziness #ocs #original character fiction #Damian #Lorelai #His knight in Shining Armour

28 notes · View notes

repulsivepangolin7 · 4 years

Text

Fic: Date night

Alright, so… I kinda promised to try to not cause Luca a bunch of pain in this fic. I’ll give it my best shot.

Word count: 1 586

“What are you so smiley for…” Chris asked, tilting her head towards Luca as they hung up their gear in the locker room. The rest of the guys had already left.

“Got a date tonight!” he beamed back.

“You’re going on a date?” Chris smiled, “Why haven’t you told me?”

Luca shrugged, “Well, ‘cause it’s kinda a still a secret.”

“Who is she? Anyone I know?”

“Nah man…” Luca grinned, “Getting secrets out of SWAT isn’t that easy…”

“Come on, you can tell me…”

“I could.” Luca nodded. Looking all serious before he broke into a chuckle, “But I’m not gonna. Not yet anyway. We… We want to make sure it’s not something that’ll blaze over in a couple of months.”

“So you consider each other as a ‘we’ already?”

Luca blushed and grabbed his bag from the locker, “Yeah, we do.”

“For how long?”

“Gotta be more specific before I answer that…”

“How long have you been dating?”

“Like, going for a movie together date, or going out for dinner then back to her place date? -Or my place if we know Street will be at Molly’s place.” Luca asked before he looked over at Chris.

“Both.”

“Kinda platonic movie dates, 7-8 months…” Luca shrugged, “Dunno... More serious dates, I’d say… Two months.”

“And this is the first I hear of it?” Chris’s jaw nearly unhinged, “How have you been able to keep it a secret this long?”

“Because you know how my relationships usually goes.”

“Well, mine ain’t that much better…”

Luca chuckled, “Yeah, man… I’ve always kinda envied Deacon. It takes a lot of hard work to make relationships last in this line of work, but I think he found the recipe for how it’s done.”

“I claim magic…” Chris chuckled.

Luca grinned and nodded, “Magic and a very patient wife.”

“-With nerves of steel.”

Luca nodded, “She sure has.”

“So, can you tell me ANYTHING about this mystery woman you’re seeing?”

“She’s amazing.” Luca grinned.

“You’re not fair…” Chris chuckled and rolled her eyes, as Luca got ready to walk out of the locker room, “Tell me how the date went tomorrow.”

Luca chuckled as he started walking out, “You know I don’t kiss and tell…”

Chris chuckled, “Alright. See you tomorrow!”

SWATSWATSWAT

“You clean up nice…” she smiled as she opened the door to greet him.

Luca grinned, “Well, you always look nice, so I have to put in some effort.”

She stepped closer and stood up on her toes to kiss his cheek. Then she ran her hands from his neck and out to his shoulders, then down his arms. “Come in, I’ll be ready in a minute.”

Luca returned her kiss, although slightly different placement. Before he nodded and they went inside.

“So, what’s our timeline tonight?” he asked as he headed towards the nearest chair while she headed towards the bathroom.

“No timeline.” Tuana twisted around and smiled, “Kelly’s staying with my parents until tomorrow afternoon.”

Then she disappeared into the bathroom.

Luca nodded, a smile present on his face.

It didn’t take long before she came back out, this time with an added soft tint to her lips and earrings. “Alright, I’m ready to go…”

Luca grinned and got back up.

SWATSWATSWAT

She almost couldn’t believe it was real. She almost couldn’t believe how weird luck and chance worked.

If someone had asked her how likely it was that she would ever find a guy she liked well enough to introduce to her daughter, she would’ve answered something like ‘that man probably doesn’t exist’.

It had been a long time since she was in a relationship, and the last time it had ended ugly in every way but one. She had ended up a mother, to a perfect little girl.

But then luck and chance did their thing, and thanks to Kelly she got introduced to this incredible man. Who was incredible with her kid as well. No wonder her heart melted for him.

And luck and chance must’ve been working overtime, because as it turned out, he was seeing something he liked in her as well.

“You’re quiet…” Luca said from the seat next to her in the back of the uber, “Are you thinking about something?”

She hummed an indecisive tone, “Just happy…”

He grinned and pulled her closer, she melted into him.

“I’m happy too.” He whispered back.

SWATSWATSWAT

The date went like most their dates.

Good food, good beverages, great company.

Small and not-so-small talk. Compliments.

If wherever they went had music and a dance floor, then they would dance through a couple of songs. This place had both.

Then they would find their table again, maybe have another drink.

After that, one of them would find a way to make an innuendo along the line of, ‘that item of clothing looks great on you, but I think it would look way better on the floor of your/my bedroom…’, or something else that would require them to return home for some more private time.

Then Luca would pay their bill, and they would grab a cab or an uber home, unless it was walking distance. Then they would walk back, holding hands and bumping shoulders.

SWATSWATSWAT

“Maybe we should start telling people soon…” she said thoughtfully just after Luca had closed the door to the uber they had taken back to her place.

His heart nearly fluttered when she said it. “Yeah? You think so?”

She shrugged, “It would be nice? Wouldn’t it?”

He nodded, “Sure would.”

“So you think we should?”

“I think it’s a great idea.” Luca grinned.

“You do?”

Luca nodded, “It’s getting… I want to tell my team and my family who you are. I want them to get to know the amazing woman I’ve gotten to know over the last few years.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.” He nodded.

“And I want to tell my parents who you are. I think they’re getting frustrated by knowing their daughter is on a date, but without knowing who he is or what he looks like.”

Luca chuckled, “Yeah, one of my teammates would’ve started a full interrogation earlier if she had the chance.”

Tuana chuckled, “So, what do you say? Should we go public with this.”

Luca nodded, “I’m ready if you are.”

“I’m ready.” She smiled back. She pulled him down for a kiss before she patted his chest, “Now, we’ve got the house for ourselves the entire night…”

Luca grinned and swooped her into his arms, “Yeah? Got any good ideas?”

She kissed him once more, before mischievously answering “A few…”

He grinned and started walking towards the stairs to her front door, “Just… I’ve gotta go to work tomorrow afternoon. Give me at least 4 hours of sleep, deal?”

She ruffled his hair a bit, “Not making any promises I’m not sure I can keep.”

He chuckled and gently sat her back down once they reached the steps, “I love you.”

“I love you more…” she winked back.

“Nah, I don’t believe you…” he chuckled.

“I’ll show you…” she teased and shimmied her shoulder in a way that made her breasts jiggle, before she turned to unlock the door.

“I.. Uhm…” Luca swallowed, “That’s not fair…”

Tuana chuckled and pulled Luca in after her.

They stumbled across the living room, discarding their shoes, his shirt, her dress, they bust up her bedroom door, his pants landed on the floor, as did her stockings.

They landed on her bed and underwear was tossed aside.

Her hands pulled him close. His hands traced her curves. She ran her hands over his muscles. They moved in unison. She started out on top, until he flipped them over.

SWATSWATSWAT

The next morning Luca woke up with Tuana on his arm. He smiled and relaxed back against the pillow he had his head rested against.

Tuana was starting to stir a little, but was still asleep and breathing slow. Luca didn’t want to wake her up.

He glanced at the alarm clock she had on her nightstand, it read 9 o’clock. He had actually ended up getting his necessary four hours after all.

She curled into a ball, before she stretched out with a yawn. Then she turned around to face him, “Good morning…”

“Good morning…” he smiled back, twisting over to kiss her, “Slept well?”

She nodded, “You?”

He nodded, “Sure did.”

“Have you been awake for long?”

“Nah, just a few minutes before you.” He smiled.

She edged closer, until they laid skin to skin.

He twisted back to his side so he could be facing her. He placed his free hand on her hip.

She wrapped her leg around his thigh.

“One more round?” He asked, “Then hit the shower?”

She nodded, “And then breakfast…”

He nodded.

SWATSWATSWAT

A bunch of hours later he was back in the locker room. As per usual, he was early and none of the others had shown up yet.

He was tying up his boots when Chris walked in.

“So, how was date night?”

“Great.” Luca grinned, “Tuana and I…”

“Tuana?!?!” Chris’s eyes went wide, “Is that who you’re dating?”

Luca nodded, “We figured it was time to make it official.”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be so cute together…” Chris grinned.

Luca grinned.

“I can’t wait to see you two together…” Chris grinned, “Kelly knows, right?”

“Yeah, she’s known for some time already.”

“And she hasn’t told anyone?”

“Not really…” Luca shrugged, “She did a name-drop to Tuana’s parents, but as far as I know… That’s it.”

Alright, so… That was an honest attempt at making something where Luca didn’t get hurt.

I’m not really sure of the sweetness level here, but I hope none of you develop insulin resistance because of it.

And TBH, I’ve been shipping Tuana and Luca since the episode where Luca helped Kelly get into that school. The latest episode didn’t exactly dull that ship in any way.

#dominic luca #dominique luca #date #tuana #chris #chris alonso #Swat fanfiction #swat #s.w.a.t

38 notes · View notes

strwbrryeos · 5 years

Text

Kill Me Softly (and Quickly) 01

summary; Ask anyone and they’ll tell you, Jungkook is the best in the business. There’s no one he couldn't kill. Nothing he couldn’t do. But his latest job? Well, he might’ve gotten more than he bargained for.

genre; royal au, angst, fluff, eventual smut

pairing; assassin!jungkook x prince!jimin

contains; mentions of abuse but it’s nothing graphic, being tied up (but not in the fun way), Taehyung is a dangerous man and hurts Jimin, Tae and Kook exchange blows

a/n: so I finally jumped on the bandwagon and made a header for my fics but also it’s nice because now my computer isn’t trying to kill itself when I insert gifs. I'm gonna go and fix the layout of all my other fics too but I'm lazy so be patient with me.

Jungkook creeps slowly, quietly, careful not to let his body betray his presence as his feet step along the marble floors. His hand brushes against stone walls softly, feeling the cracks and crevices beneath gloves. It’s dark―he could barely see his own feet in front of him―but no matter; he’s a professional. His steps are precise and counted, not letting something as simple as darkness get in the way of his job.

He finds his destination shortly: a large, but empty, guest room, decorated high with extravagant tapestries and golden furniture. Jungkook snorts. He can’t imagine what the rooms look like for people who actually live here.

Long strides carry him to the other side of the room where moonlight pours in from a large window. He pries it open easily, expertly, and steps out, letting the fresh breeze wash over him. He takes a deep breath, praying to whatever god is out there (despite not believing in one at all) as he steps onto the balcony rail nearest the wall. His hands find solid gripping in the stone, and he carefully lifts himself, feet finding placement in the structure. Slowly, he climbs, scaling the building to the room right above, leaping quietly onto the terrace.

His skillful hands pick the lock before him, great glass doors opening to reveal a marvelous room, swimming with jewels and gems of all sorts, and Jungkook contemplates simply stealing what he can and selling it off; he’d certainly make a fortune that way. He shakes his head, eyes falling on his target: a small, sleeping figure in the canopy bed, body shielded by red sheets.

He stays close to the wall, his dark clothes hiding him in the shadows, as he sneaks around the room, closer to the bed. He moves in a large semi-circle around the room, wanting to see the face of his victim.

He doesn’t believe in hurting a man whose back is turned. (Not that a sleeping one is much better.)

He steps closer and closer to his prey, his feet still terribly quiet on the ground. He draws his blade, shining in the soft lowlight of the moon, and raises it, ready to strike. It’s only when he’s an inch or so away from the bed that he withdraws instantly, alarmed as the man stares at him with wide, open eyes.

Jungkook is so surprised―for a second he forgets how to move, his feet glued to the ground, not quite sure what to do. But then the man moves and he remembers, his legs beginning to move to flee the scene.

“Wait!” the man whisper-yells. “Aren’t you going to kill me?”

Jungkook freezes.

What?

He turns around, looking at him with confusion and curiosity.

The man speaks again, sitting up in bed. “Didn’t you come here to kill me? Aren’t you?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what to do or say; in all of his years of doing this he’s used to people begging to live, not pleading to die. He speaks softly, lowly, wanting an answer out of this man before doing anything else. “Why don’t you scream?”

“W-What?”

“Why don’t you scream for your guards if you know I’m here to kill you? They’re standing right outside your door.”

The man fidgets with his hands, playing with the blankets that cover his legs. “I… uh… well, I-I want to die, Mister, uh, Assassin, sir.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow in confusion, finally turning fully to face this man, this man who has everything. Born with a golden spoon in his mouth and never having to raise more than a finger to have the world on his feet, why, it’s everything Jungkook had ever dreamed of as a kid. Why wouldn’t he want it?

“Why?” asks Jungkook, completely dumbfounded. “You’re… You’re a prince―the prince. Prince Jimin, everyone adores you―you have everything.”

Jimin shakes his head. “And yet, I have nothing at all.” He sighs, looking at Jungkook deeply before standing, making his way towards him. Here Jungkook stands, an assassin, a killer, blade in hand (and many more beneath his coat), but he feels so powerless under the gaze of this man, this prince. He spreads his arms out wide, displaying his bare chest to Jungkook, head held high, and says, “Kill me.”

Jungkook frowns. This isn’t how this is supposed to work. “No.”

Jimin’s arms lower, his face mirroring the shock that Jungkook feels inside. “Why not? I thought this was your job!”

“Yeah, well, my job entails killing those who deserve it.”

“And I don’t?”

“Not in my book.”

Jimin pauses, then lunges at Jungkook. Jungkook is startled at first, but he pins Jimin against the wall easily, causing the smaller man to look up at him in a grin. “Do I deserve it now?”

Jungkook shakes his head and sighs, releasing the prince. “The king is the one who deserves it. I’m supposed to kill you for some political revenge plot, or something.”

Jimin―and Jungkook really can’t believe this―pouts as if someone just snatched his favorite toy away. “I’m his son. Doesn’t that mean I deserve it?”

“I cannot judge a man for the sins of his father.”

“Please?” Jimin whines, desperate, and Jungkook almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of this entire situation.

“If you truly were the devil they had made you out to be, then I think you would’ve been dead a long time ago.”

Jimin hangs his head, looking at his hands like he’s lost. “What if… what if I do something bad, you know?”

“What?”

“What if I… what if I steal? Or, or, what if I, um, what if I treat my servants horribly?” he bargains, “Is that enough?”

“I―”

“It is, right? You can play judge to my own sins, right?”

“I don’t―”

“Come back tomorrow, or the next day, or just, whenever you can, and then you can judge if I deserve to die. I’ll―I’ll even double your pay. Whatever they’re paying you now, I’ll double it.”

Jungkook looks at the prince, unsure and doubtful. “It’s a lot of money―”

“Please!” he shouts before slapping a hand over his mouth, realizing he was too loud. “Please,” he repeats again more softly.

Jungkook sighs; he’s never been one to turn down money, and he’s kind of interested to see where this will go. “Okay,” he relents. “Fine. Money is money.”

“Yes, yes, yes, thank you!” And then―and Jungkook is so, so sure that this is a fever dream now―Jimin hugs Jungkook in excitement before crawling back into bed, a giddy smile on his face.

Dazed, and unsure if that really just happened, Jungkook leaps off the balcony, disappearing into the night.

Jungkook approaches Seokjin with a stern face, sitting down in front of him with not so much as a glance to the threatening growls of his bodyguards. Seokjin waves them away before taking a sip out of glass, and says, “Want a drink.”

Jungkook cuts to the chance. “I was offered more money to leave him alive.”

Seokjin splutters, coughing on the alcohol, the burn in his chest far worse than the burn in his throat. “W-What?” he asks incredulously. “Who could’ve known?” He narrows his eyes at Jungkook. “Did you tell someone? Did you scam me?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Scam you? You haven’t even paid me in full yet. I’m here to return it,” he says, placing a bag of money in front of Seokjin before snatching his own drink out of his hands, swirling it around a few times before sampling it.

Seokjin leans back in his chair, a look of both contempt and admiration adorned on his face. “They weren’t lying when they said you were a man of your word, huh?”

“I still have an honor code,” he says with a shrug.

“Says the killer.”

“You did hire me, no?”

Seokjin scowls, ordering a new drink. “Fine.” He pauses as the glass is placed in front of him. “Care to tell me who bought you off?”

“It’s a nondisclosure agreement,” he replies, taking another sip.

Seokjin leans forward, glancing around the room as he lowers his voice. “How much do you want?” He looks around the room again. “There are a lot of important people who want him gone.”

Mimicking Seokjin, Jungkook leans forward, dropping his voice exaggeratingly low. “How much are you gonna offer me? And why don’t you just dispose the king? Nobody likes him anyway.”

“That’s treason.”

“And killing his son isn’t?”

“His son doesn’t have any power.”

“Yet,” Jungkook says simply. “But he could.”

“And what if he rules exactly like his father?”

“You say this about a man who was raised by his mother.” Jungkook pauses, savoring the alcohol as it lingers on his tongue. “Tell me, Seokjin, hasn’t your father ever done things you weren’t proud of? Hurt people? Made them suffer? And was it your fault?”

“I am not my father,” Seokjin hisses.

“You’re right. You’re not.” Jungkook stands. “You’re your own man who did his own bad things. Don’t blame your sins on your parents. And don’t blame your parents’ sins on you, right?”

“Okay,” Seokjin says, putting his hands up in defeat. “I relent. But look, if you don’t kill that kid, then someone else will. Or at least, they’ll try. Everyone wants you, okay? You’re the best in the business. Don’t make it harder than it has to be.”

“Look,” Jungkook laughs, “I’m here to do a job. If someone has a problem with it, they can take it up with me themselves.”

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Jungkook,” Seokjin warns, relaxing back in his chair.

“No more dangerous than wearing a crown.” Seokjin raises his glass in cheers. “Goodnight, Seokjin.”

“Goodnight.”

Jungkook leaves, pulling his coat tighter as the night air hits him. His watch tells him it’s nearly five, though he only needs the sky to tell him that. A faint blue glow can be seen tainting the dark sky, and he suddenly remembers how tired he is.

Assassin’s work will do that to you.

He replays the entirety of the night’s events back in his mind as he walks, his brain remembering every single detail. Normally he’s replaying tears and terror, screams and blood as he makes peace with his actions, whispering an apology to the skies, but not tonight. No, tonight, he remembered what life was like. So delicate. So precious. So completely in his hands. He had forgotten.

Now he could remember, but all he could really see was Jimin’s face. So desperate, literally pleading with Jungkook to end him. Why? Why? What happened to him? Why was he so ready? And god, his eyes. Jungkook remembers his eyes. He stared into those eyes and he could only see himself, reflecting back all the pain that Jungkook felt.

Perhaps the royal life wasn’t as nice as he always thought it to be.

Jungkook is quiet as he slips back into Jimin’s room two nights later; he might as well be a shadow on the ground. Jimin waits for him in the dark, eagerly bouncing up to him when he shows. “You came!” He frowns when Jungkook doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t let that deter him, pulling him onto a couch near the window. “Here’s your money,” he says, placing it delicately in Jungkook’s lap, the action surprising the taller man.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, causing the prince to smile brightly.

“You’re welcome!” He gets up, standing in front of Jungkook again. “Okay, I’m ready!”

Jungkook sighs, not making any movements except leaning back into the wonderfully comfortable cushion. “I’m not doing anything.”

“W-What? But you said you would! You said―”

“No, you said that you’d pay me to come back here and ‘judge’ if you were, what was it? ‘Deserving’? My answer is no.”

“No, no you promised.”

“Tell me what you’ve done then.” Jungkook crosses his legs comfortably, playing with his favorite knife, knowing damn well the prince hasn’t done anything remotely deserving of death.

“I yelled at my servant today!” Jimin says proudly.

Jungkook raises his eyebrow. “You apologized right after though, didn’t you?”

“Well I…” Jungkook doesn’t need Jimin to finish that sentence. The telling blush on his cheeks is all he needs.

“Seriously, Prince Charming, I can’t just come in here and kill you like that.” He smirks. “Not when you’re paying me so well.”

“What if I pay you more to kill me?”

“How’re you gonna pay me if you’re dead?”

“I can have someone―”

“I’ll be arrested.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook shakes his head, laughing a little. “You’re interesting, you know that?”

“Am I?” the prince asks, sitting back down beside Jungkook.

“You have everything, but the one thing you want the most is to die.” Jimin shrugs, avoiding eye contact. “Gonna tell me why?”

“I don’t even know you.”

“All the better, right? Get your frustrations out on a complete stranger that you’ll probably never see again.”

“If I pay you, will you come back again?” Jimin asks hopefully.

“You want to see me again?” Jungkook laughs.

“I don’t know,” Jimin says. Another shrug. “You don’t know me. You don’t expect anything out of me.”

“I expect your riches,” Jungkook replies with a sly smile.

“Oh. Right.”

“Come on now, Prince Charming, you’re really that disappointed?”

Jimin shakes his head, looking away as tears start to well in his eyes, and he hates himself for feeling so pathetic. “N-No. It’s fine. Kill me, don’t kill me. I don’t care. You have your money.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and stands. “Same amount,” he states.

“Huh?”

“Same amount as this”―he shakes the bag―“and I’ll come back in two nights.”

Jimin’s face lights up, tears now threatening to spill of happiness. “Will you really? Done! Done!” He bounces up, latching onto Jungkook excitedly. “Thank you!” he exclaims before letting go, smile beaming on his face.

Jungkook shakes his head, slightly embarrassed to have been hugged yet again by a self-destructive prince. (And a cute one at that.) He steps back a little, turning his attention to the sky outside, still dark and littered with stars. Good. “Time to go, I guess.”

“Really? Already?”

“I have been here a while, haven’t I?”

“Not at all! You still haven’t given me any advice yet!”

“Advice?” Jungkook asks with a puzzled face.

“On how to get you to kill me!”

Jungkook laughs, taking another step back. “Not happening.”

“What?” the prince whines. “Please? You said you would!”

“I said I’d play judge and executioner, not lead a good man to his end.”

Jimin beams. “You think I’m a good man?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Haven’t given me a reason to think otherwise.”

Jimin sits back on the couch, patting the cushion beside him in an effort to get Jungkook to sit. To stay. Jungkook glances towards the window again, but it’s still dark, so he figures he still has time. A little longer can’t hurt.

“What’s your name?” Jimin asks as soon as the other man sits down. Jungkook’s eyes widen, a little taken aback. He’s not really in the business to expose his identity.

But this prince seems harmless, so he tells the truth. “Jungkook.”

“Jungkook,” the prince breathes, yes sparkling. “How do I be like you?”

“Like me?” the assassin laughs. “You don’t want to be like me.”

Jimin shifts on the couch, hands playing with themselves as he looks down at them. “But I do! I’m too nice! People walk all over me!”

“You just have to learn how to say no,” Jungkook says, “but in this world, I don’t believe ‘too nice’ exists.”

“If I were meaner, I bet life would be easier,” Jimin huffs quietly, but Jungkook can still hear him.

“Do you think I’m mean?”

“What? No! Not at all!” Jimin exclaims. “I didn’t―”

“Maybe I am. Maybe not. I don’t know. It’s not important. What is important is that I know what I want, and I do what a want.”

“You want to kill people?”

“I want to make money,” Jungkook replies. “Didn’t always mean to make a business of this.”

“Well how did you?” Jimin asks, curious eyes watching him. “Make a business out of this, I mean.”

“That’s a story for another day, Prince Charming,” Jungkook laughs. “Maybe next time.”

“You can call me Jimin, you know.”

“Okay, Prince Charming.”

Sometimes―or really, all the time―Jungkook can’t help but wonder how Jimin is so positive. He always welcomes the younger with a smile on his face, reminding Jungkook that not everything in the world is evil.

“I did something bad,” Jimin says a little too smugly.

Jungkook laughs as he strips of his coat, reclining comfortably on Jimin’s luxury bed. (He could get used to a life like this). “Sure you did.”

“I did, really!”

“Do tell,” he says, eyes closed, soft smirk on his face.

“Okay, so―hey! You’re not even looking!”

“Yes I am.”

“Open your eyes, Jungkook.”

“Fine, fine.” Eyes open. Jimin standing over him. His heart rate picks up. Unexpected.

Jimin backs away, eyes crinkling with his smile. “Right, okay, so, a little kid fell down today, and I didn’t even help him back up.”

“That’s pretty bad,” Jungkook laughs. “You just left him there?”

“Yep! Yes I did!”

“What else?”

“What d’you mean?”

“What else did you do?”

“Uh… that’s all today.”

“Ah, I see.” Jungkook closes his eyes again. “He was already being helped up, wasn’t he?”

“I―”

“Don’t even try it, Prince Charming.”

Jimin sighs in defeat and flops down onto the bed next to Jungkook. “Okay. You got me.” He rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Bad stuff.”

“Define ‘bad’,” Jungkook chortles, mind slowly slipping from the conversation because damn it’s a really comfy bed.

“I don’t know… just… everything you do. Your job, I guess.”

Jungkook opens his eyes again, sitting up to face Jimin. “Hey,” he says. “Don’t sound so disappointed. I didn’t get into this business because I wanted to be a killer when I grew up. It just kind of happened.”

“Yeah… I guess.”

“Jimin,” Jungkook says sternly, forcing the older to look him in the eye. “I know I make fun of you, but don’t change who you are, you hear me? Don’t become me.”

“But I―”

“Promise me.”

“But Jungkook―”

“Promise me.”

“Fine,” Jimin relents, “I promise.”

“You’re a good guy, Charming,” Jungkook says, relaxing again. “Be proud of that.”

“If I weren’t a good guy, you would’ve killed me the first time we met,” Jimin jokes dryly.

“No,” Jungkook laughs, “you were awake and you scared me. Wouldn’t have thought twice if I didn’t see eyes just fucking… staring into my soul like that.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Jimin asks, laughter starting to bubble its way to the surface.

“Not that! Scary as hell!”

“You’re the one who broke into my room, asshole!”

“This is true,” Jungkook replies, putting his hands up in surrender, “but that doesn’t give you the excuse to act like a fucking poltergeist.”

“Can’t believe the Big Bad Wolf is afraid of ghosts.”

“Look―”

“Are you afraid of monsters, too? Want me to check under your bed before you go to sleep?”

Jungkook’s nose scrunches with laughter, body shaking the bed. “Shut the fuck up,” he says, throwing a plush pillow at Jimin’s face.

There’s a beat of silence as the laughter slowly fades away, the only sounds being that of the wind blowing through the open balcony doors. Jungkook opens one eye, peeking outside to judge his time by the light of the moon. He doesn’t really register that Jimin has shifted, facing him on his knees, close enough to touch. “You’re a good guy too, you know,” he whispers, looking down at his hands.

The blue light from the moon is just enough to illuminate the light blush dusting his cheeks. Jungkook thinks it’s cute. “You’re the only one who thinks that, Prince Charming,” he laughs.

“No, no, I’m serious! Really!” he exclaims. His voice grows quieter. “You’re a lot better than you give yourself credit for.”

“Thanks, Charming, but don’t get the wrong idea about me,” Jungkook replies, glancing towards the night sky again. “I’ve done a lot of less-than-stellar things.”

“Not everyone’s perfect,” Jimin mumbles.

Jungkook laughs. “I can’t name one bad thing about you.”

“Bet you could if you tried hard enough.”

“Nope,” the younger says with a click of his tongue. “I’ll let you know if I think of one though.”

Silence follows again, but it’s comfortable. The both of them feel safe here, protected by the walls of Jimin’s bedroom. Their own little world that no one would know about and no one could ruin. They could be themselves here, secure enough to show the side that they keep so tightly hidden away. Only for each other’s eyes.

Jungkook isn’t sure how long he’s there, or how long he’s asleep, but he wakes when sun leaks into the bedroom, bright and blinding. He looks down and finds Jimin curled against him, head on his chest, and it’s the first time that Jungkook’s seeing him in the day. There is no darkness to hide him here. His soft features, his tousled hair; he likes how at peace he looks.

The wooden doors creak as they open, and Jungkook moves quick, rolling Jimin over and leaping off the bed within a matter of seconds. The action startles Jimin awake, the young prince bolting up in bed. “What’s going on?” he asks Jungkook who only hushes him harsly in return.

“Good morning, my prince,” says an older woman, bringing with her a tray of food. She looks toward the open balcony. “Did you open these?”

“I like the fresh air.”

“You know how dangerous that is,” she scolds, moving to close it. “Anyone could just come on in!”

“My room is on the fourth floor.”

“You don’t know what kind of scum lives out there!”

“They’re not scum!”

“And I’m a queen,” she retorts. “Here is your outfit for the day, and this one is for tonight. Your father is expecting you. Let’s hurry up.”

“I’ll dress myself today, thank you,” Jimin says curtly. “You’re dismissed.”

“A-Are you sure? I can―”

“It’s fine, really. Tell him I’ll be down shortly.”

The woman nods. “Alright.”

The door shuts, and Jungkook pops out of hiding, an exhilarated smile on his face. “Well that was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Get out,” Jimin laughs, shoving him toward the door. The prince opens them, standing aside.

Jungkook jogs to the balcony, about to make his leap off before he turns over his shoulder and says, “I got it, Charming.”

“Got what?”

“Your bad trait.”

“Enlighten me.”

“You see the good in everyone except yourself.”

And like that, he’s gone.

Jungkook slips into Jimin’s room every two nights, a comfortable pattern that adds a stability he didn’t know he was missing in life. He scales the castle’s walls like he’s done so many times before and approaches the balcony door, only to find it locked. He jiggles the handle, surprised because Jimin normally leaves it open for him, excited to see him after a long day of royal duties.

“Jimin?” he calls without answer. He picks the lock swiftly, remembering the first time he came here, and enters quietly. “Jimin?” Anxiety settles in the pit of his stomach; the bed is perfectly made, untouched. Jimin’s usual before-bed snack sits at his bedside, having gone cold. Jungkook’s almost tempted to go look for him before the great wooden doors are swinging open and Jimin is walking in.

He looks supremely prince-like, a look Jungkook had yet to witness, and he carries an air of authority that would normally have Jungkook scowling with hatred. The doors shut behind him, a few servants whispering for a task, but he waves them off.

Jimin crumbles onto the floor, broken whimpers that just sound so out of place coming out of his mouth. Jungkook’s used to sneaking around, but he feels uncomfortable here in the dark, violating the prince’s privacy. He wants to close his eyes; he wants to go and help him; he wants to leave. He can’t decide as Jimin’s body is wracked by silent sobs, and the prince curls onto the floor, looking ready to stay there the entire night. But a loud bang sounds from somewhere down the corridor (Jungkook thinks a servant closed a door too hard) and Jimin yelps, scurrying into his bed like the blankets will protect him from whatever he’s afraid of.

Jungkook’s been here way too long, makes a move for the balcony without being heard, but the movement of the light on the wall is enough to alert Jimin, and the young prince sits up in bed, eyes wide and watery.

“J-Jungkook…”

“Hey, Prince Charming,” Jungkook says awkwardly. “Uh, I’ll come back later, okay?”

“Don’t,” Jimin whispers so softly that Jungkook almost misses it.

“Uh, what?”

“Please…”

“Jimin I―”

“Kill me, please,” Jimin begs, his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s clutching the sheets. He stares Jungkook down, pleading. “I’ll do anything, please…”

Jungkook’s face softens as he approaches his friend. “Jimin…”

“No, no, no, don’t you dare take that tone of voice with me,” Jimin commands. “Don’t―”

“Jimin, I don’t understand―”

“Don’t, don’t, don’t…”

“Jimin―”

“Stop calling me that!”

Jungkook jumps back a bit, startled by Jimin’s outburst. “I don’t… Jimin, talk to me, please? What’s going on?”

“Just kill me… kill me…”

“Hey,” Jungkook says softly, gently bringing Jimin into his arms, “it’s okay, you’re okay, right? I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m sorry, I’m not gonna kill you. What happened?”

Jimin only sniffles, gripping Jungkook tightly. “N-Nothing,” he murmurs, shifting more comfortably in Jungkook’s lap.

Jungkook laughs, wondering how this man wedged himself into his life and heart. He’s certainly got a soft spot for him. “You’re a terrible liar.” The prince looks up, giving Jungkook a smile, but it turns into a frown when Jungkook tries to give him a reassuring squeeze, and he winces in pain.

Realization hits him all too quickly.

“Shit,” he says, and Jimin starts crying again, trying to pull himself out of Jungkook’s embrace. “No, no, hey, it’s okay, please.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Jimin begins, “I should― you should―”

“Take a deep breath for me, can you do that?” Jungkook asks, rubbing circles on the prince’s back. “You’re safe here. You’re safe with me.”

“With you,” Jimin repeats.

Jungkook nods. “With me. Why don’t we get you cleaned up, huh?”

Jimin agrees, letting Jungkook carry him into the bathroom where he places him on the counter, giving his head a quick pat before wetting a towel. He dabs at the tears on Jimin’s face and searches for the bandages he knows are hiding away in the cabinets. He stands and pinches the material of Jimin’s jacket between his fingers. “Can I…?” Jimin nods and sheds the jacket, revealing dark bruises on his arms. Jungkook frowns, all too familiar with the pain. He wraps as much of the skin as he can in a cool cloth. “Feel better?”

“Yeah.”

“Are there any more?”

“What?”

“Are there any more bruises?”

“N-No,” Jimin says, but Jungkook knows he’s lying.

“Come on. It’s me. Your good ol’ would-be-murderer best friend,” he laughs. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I know, it’s just…”

“What?”

“There’s a lot.”

“I know. That’s okay. Please show me. I want to make sure there aren’t any cuts or blood, okay?”

Jimin nods again. “Okay.” He sheds himself of his shirt, almost immediately trying to cover himself up.

Jungkook grabs his hands gently and pulls away, examining the marks. “It’s okay. I’m just gonna clean this cut up here, okay?”

“Okay.” Jungkook’s hand is steady as it works, having done it so many times before. Jimin watches him the entire time, doesn’t say a word until he’s done. “How often do you do this?” he asks.

“What?”

Jimin blushes. “You know, uh, clean up, I guess.”

Jungkook shrugs casually. “Did it most of my life.”

Jimin’s lip quivers as Jungkook helps him back into his clothes. “You didn’t deserve that,” he whispers.

“Neither do you.”

“Yeah but I―”

“Nope,” Jungkook cuts him off, placing a finger over his mouth. “Don’t wanna hear it. You don’t deserve it. Come on, it’s late. You should get to bed.”

He leans back down to put stuff away, not expecting Jimin to say, “Will you stay?”

Jungkook jumps, bumping his head on the cabinet. “Fuck!” he exclaims, though he feels better at the smile on Jimin’s face. He laughs slightly, rubbing the forming bump on his head. “I don’t know…”

“Please? I just… I need a friend. I don’t wanna be alone.”

Jungkook hesitates, but he really can’t say no. “Okay.”

“Here, do you want something more comfortable wear? I have a lot,” Jimin says, hopping off the counter and scurrying into his closet.

“No, no, it’s okay―”

“You can wear this. It’s big and it’s comfy.” He pulls out a sweater, running the fabric between his fingers.

“I can just sleep in this, Jimin.”

The prince clutches the sweater tight before releasing it, throwing it at Jungkook’s head. “Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what? Your name?”

“You always call me ‘Prince Charming.’”

“I’ve called you your name before. That’s just a nickname.”

“Well, I like it,” Jimin says simply, stripping himself of his day clothes.

“What’s so wrong with your name? I’ve called you that before.”

Jimin shakes his head, distaste clear on his face. “It’s a terrible name.”

“I think it’s a great name,” Jungkook replies as he changes.

Jimin crawls into bed, burritoing himself under the comforter. “It’s what he calls me.”

“Oh.” Jungkook pauses before slipping into bed alongside Jimin, a comfortable amount of distance between them. “What would you rather I call you?”

“Anything else,” Jimin says with a shrug.

“Mr. Prince? Your Royal Highness? Sir Charming?”

“Shut up,” the prince giggles, tossing a pillow at the man beside him.

“What? You’re the one who wanted me to stay.”

“Whatever. Go to sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know, I could get used to sleeping in this bed. Way comfier than mine.”

Jimin’s laugh echoes in the night air. “Are you taking advantage of our friendship?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Jungkook jokes, earning him a slap on the arm. “Seriously! Why’re you always throwing stuff at me or hitting me?”

“You deserve it!”

“Go to sleep, Your Majesty. And stop hitting me.”

There is no moon out tonight, leaving the room blanketed in darkness. Though they say nothing, both men lay wide awake, looking blankly at the ceiling. Jungkook’s spent so much of his time sneaking around in the shadows, it’s his comfort zone. No one to watch or judge you here.

But his fingers pull at each other, trying to find a way to calm himself down because he feels so vulnerable. Where the dark is normally his safe place, as he lays in Jimin’s bed, he can’t help but feel like he’s on display for the world. Jimin fidgets and his breath hitches, and he only breathes again when the prince settles back down.

He’s not sure how long he’s laying there before Jimin travels over the distance between them and curls right up beside him. “Thank you,” Jimin whispers sweetly before his breathing evens out and he’s drifting off.

Jungkook’s eyes never shut but to blink.

Two nights later and Jungkook doesn’t find himself in Jimin’s room, but rather, back at that same bar, a pile of cash sitting in front of him. He sort of wishes he hadn’t broken routine, coming to rely on the therapeutic comforts of the prince’s room and presence just a little too much, but this is good for him, he thinks. He needs to remember who he is.

“And this is for?”

“Finishing the job,” Seokjin says, “if you can handle it.”

Jungkook shrugs. “I work where the money is. The money says to keep him alive.” That’s a lie. Jungkook stopped accepting money from Jimin long ago; he simply needed a friend in his life, but he’s not going to bring that up. It’s a conflict of interest.

“Perhaps I should have other people talk to you, hm?”

Jungkook leans forward on the table, eyes piercing and voice low. “Is that a threat, Seokjin?”

“It might be,” says the elder with a casual shrug, looking at him passively. “I’m just trying to get some work done, you know?”

“You’re a respected advisor. Wonder what would happen if word of your political ploy got out.”

“Now is that a threat, young Jungkook?” Seokjin laughs. “That’d be rich.”

Jungkook puts his hands up in defense. “I’ve never really been into politics, you know?”

“Look, you handle the dirty stuff, I’ll handle the politics, deal?”

“Where’s the benefit?”

“You know, they told me to come to you because you don’t ask questions.”

“I think I’m obligated to when you’re threatening to undermine a country, Seokjin.”

“I’m just doing what’s best for the people!”

“You’re doing what’s best for you!” Jungkook laughs. “Do you think I’m stupid? You think I don’t know that you won’t turn your back on me the second you get the chance? Throw me in jail just to bring yourself up?”

Seokjin falters, eyes darting away from Jungkook’s cold gaze. “We’re all just trying to do a job here,” he mutters, earning an eye roll.

“I’ll come back tomorrow for my payment,” Jungkook says as he stands, slipping on his coat.

“Your what? Are you changing your mind?”

“The money isn’t for the job, Seokjin. It’s to keep my mouth shut.”

“Ah, you’ll regret that,” he says, a smile on his face, but Jungkook pays him no mind, and he’s out the door within the minute.

The night air is soothing on his skin as he walks out, and his feet carry him to the only place he wants to be. He isn’t really thinking about it, just knows that it feels right. It’s where he’s supposed to be. Maybe it’s because Jimin is his only friend and his only sense of home.

Yes, Jimin is home.

He’s scaling the walls effortlessly again, feet touching comfortably down on the balcony with hardly a sound. He moves to open the door, formulating some witty greeting in his head before he’s suddenly being pushed down, wind knocked out of him as he tumbles into the room.

“Jungkook?” he hears Jimin ask, distress evident.

“Oh? You’re on a first name basis?” says a new voice, and Jungkook rolls his eyes, distaste on his tongue.

“Taehyung,” he spits, “what the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m doing what you couldn’t,” he answers simply, climbing off the younger. “It’s a win-win for everyone involved, you know? I get the money. You get the blame. Seokjin gets his fix, right?”

“Seokjin,” Jungkook laughs. “Should’ve known he’d pull a stunt like this.”

“Ah, but you made it so easy! Gotta say, too, never would’ve thought to come in like this. But who would’ve thought the pretty prince would’ve been waiting for you all this time, hm? How’d you manage to bed a pretty thing like this?”

“Shut up,” Jungkook hisses, rage flaring in his eyes. He squirms under Taehyung’s weight, but it’s no use. He has him pinned.

“What? C’mon now, don’t be like that. You know how it is. Just business. Now stop― stop fighting. I need you alive, otherwise they’re gonna know that someone else did it.”

“I’m gonna kill you. I swear to fucking god I’m going to kill you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Taehyung says dismissively, “you can try. Seriously, stop moving, you’re making this harder than it has to be.”

Jungkook ignores him, still fighting his hardest as Taehyung tries to restrain him, and his eyes meet Jimin’s, frozen in fear. It’s a stark contrast from when he first met him, so eager to die, but now he stands, paralyzed because, yes, he wants to live, but not without Jungkook.

“Jungkook…” he whispers.

“That’s cute,” Taehyung laughs. “He cares about you.”

“Please don’t hurt him,” Jimin pleads as tears begin to fall down his face. “H-He hasn’t done anything.”

“Hasn’t done anything? Do you know who he is at all?” Taehyung sits back, having finally restrained Jungkook who’s nothing more than a useless lump on the floor. Taehyung slips a blade into his hand, the steel reflecting in the light. “He’s the most prolific killer in this business,” he says, gesturing to Jungkook with the knife. “Everybody wants him. Always asking him to do the job instead because he gets it done quickly, quietly, and no questions asked.” Taehyung scowls like he’s eaten something rotten. “I fucking hate him.”

“He only didn’t kill me because I paid him more not to!” Jimin retaliates. “If it’s money you want, then money you’ll get!”

“Ah,” Taehyung replies sweetly, “this isn’t about money, pretty. This is about how I’m going to be literally hailed as a god for taking the great Jeon Jungkook down to his knees. Who would’ve thought, huh?”

“Jimin,” Jungkook says from his place on the floor. “Get out. Get the fuck out. Run!”

“Jungkook―”

Taehyung’s on Jimin within a second, slapping a hand over his mouth. He presses his knife against Jimin’s exposed neck and says, “Yell one more time and I will bleed him out in front of you.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything in response, only looking at Jimin desperately, wanting nothing more than to protect him.

“This’ll be fun,” Taehyung continues. “My own little game for the night. Don’t worry, though. You’ll be dead by the time the sun rises.”

Jungkook’s heart races as he watches Taehyung toy with Jimin, sitting him down and whispering threats in his ears. He has until sunrise. How the hell is he supposed to get out of this one?

Minutes feel like years, and Jungkook has to figure out how to ignore Jimin’s cries as he conjures a plan. Yes, Taehyung is good, but Jungkook is better. Always has been, always will be. Taehyung wasn’t lying; Jungkook is the best in the business.

Luckily for him, he’s been tied up plenty of times. And hijacked a job? Hell, he invented that game. Taehyung forgot who he was dealing with.

And as soon as he got free, he’d remind him.

Taehyung faces away from him, dragging his knife against Jimin’s bare thigh as he struggles and cries against him. “Jungkook!” he sobs, and Jungkook swears that having to endure this will be the hardest thing he’s ever done.

“Shut up,” Taehyung hisses, “or maybe you’d rather I played with him instead?”

“No,” Jimin cries, “no, please. I can take it.”

Jungkook writhes harder. “Leave him alone, asshole. Leave him alone!”

Taehyung laughs again, his cruel voice piercing the night. “And what are you going to do about it, Jeon?”

“I’m going to kill you. I swear I’m going to kill you.” Jungkook pulls his hands against the rope, forcing the tension that keeps him bound. Taehyung only rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to Jimin, leaving the younger killer unattended. Jungkook flips onto his back and sits himself up; he rotates his wrists as much as he can back and forth, causing the rope to lose some of its tightness. Taehyung is still preoccupied with Jimin, so he doesn’t notice Jungkook inching himself backwards.

The brunette bumps into the glass coffee table and silently thanks the royals’ expensive taste. He leans forward, bringing his bound hands up to the corner of the table and pulls against it with all his strength.

The rope loosens, falling off of Jungkook’s wrists easily. He quickly undoes those on his feet, and he’s launching himself on Taehyung before he can even think twice.

“How the fuck―”

Jungkook lands a swift blow. “Best around, remember?”

“Get off!” Taehyung shoves him off and makes a break for the balcony doors.

“You really think I’m gonna let you off like that?”

“Look, look”―Taehyung puts his hands up in defense, eyes darting around frantically―“you don’t want to kill me in front of pretty boy there, right? I know you don’t. Let me go and I won’t tell anybody about this, okay? Okay, you have my word. On my honor, I swear.”

Jungkook is preferential to ignoring him entirely; he’d like to see him in a pool of blood, but a voice pipes up behind him. “Just… just let him go,” sobs Jimin. “Jungkook, please… help me.”

The younger takes an intimidating step towards Taehyung who flinches in fear. “On your honor,” he repeats. “But I swear if I ever see you again, I will kill you on sight. On. My. Honor.”

“On your honor.” Taehyung nods, agreeing quickly. “I swear. I’m sorry, I won’t―”

“Leave before I change my fucking mind.”

Taehyung bolts, not giving Jungkook a chance, silently cursing him as he leaps off the balcony. Jungkook dashes for Jimin, the poor prince still wrapped in ropes. He releases him quickly, and Jimin falls into a heap on the floor, unable to stop the tears.

“I was― oh my god―” he sobs, “I thought he was gonna kill you―”

“Hey, hey,” Jungkook soothes, cradling him in his arms, “it’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay, right? Look at me, Charming. C’mon.”

Jimin blinks at him through teary eyes. “I was so afraid,” he whispers.

“I know. I know, but it’s okay. You’re safe now. I’m here.”

“Please don’t leave me,” Jimin says, clambering at Jungkook’s shirt. “I can’t― you can’t―”

“I’ll stay. I’ll stay for as long as you need me to.”

Jimin shakes his head furiously, trying but failing to say more. “I don’t…” His breathing stutters, and he’s sobbing again into Jungkook.

“It’s okay. Take your time. What is it?”

“I just…” He takes a deep breath, coming up to stare at Jungkook long and hard, eyes watery and puffy. His grip on Jungkook tightens, and he brings himself up to Jungkook, kissing him hard and full.

Jungkook is startled, tries to pull away, but the prince holds his head, pleading, desperate for more. Melting into the kiss is all he can do. They fall together in tandem, hearts thumping loudly in the darkness as their breaths turn heavy and their tongues collide.

“Stay,” Jimin whispers against his lips. “Please.”

“This is the only place I want to be.”

134 notes · View notes