#(somebody pass me an inhaler. right now. right in this exact moment. i beg)
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
chaoticbreadcrumbs · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Sub-Zero❄️ & Scorpion🔥COSPLAY
Sub-Zero (Bi-Han) cosplay - TikTok: @ aj.the.uchiha
Scorpion (Kuai Liang) cosplay - TikTok: @ anddradematheus
Which one do you choose ? 👀
TEAM Bi-Han or TEAM Kuai Liang?
870 notes · View notes
shadedrose01 · 4 years ago
Note
maybe where harley burns himself out in the lab and when Peter manages to get him to leave he passes out pls?
This isn't exactly what you asked for? But its close, sorry about that! Also sorry this is so late!! I hope you can still enjoy, anon!! 💗
Tw/cw for: burns, getting cut and passing out. Stay safe everyone!!
--
"Shit!" He curses, as he rips his finger away from the wires and shakes it, trying to ignore the way it burns as the electricity runs through his joints. Once the pain settles, slightly, he pushes it into his mouth, glaring down at the conglomeration of metal and wires sat in front of him innocently on the table, sighing when it doesn't disintegrate or melt before his eyes. Oh well, it was worth the shot.
He's been working on this suit, a new suit built for him as a Just in Case (in case Peter or Tony or somebody needs him on the field at some point, as a last resort), for what feels like years now, struggling with getting it exactly how he wants it to be, and he's frustrated, because hes been working extra hard on it lately. He wants it to be done soon, because the sooner its done, the sooner it can be there, the sooner Peter can be safer.
He sighs again, plopping down into the chair beside the table before leaning his elbows onto it, putting his face into his hands for a moment, giving him only a moment to close his eyes, to rest.
He's so tired.
He pushes his head back up suddenly, and shakes himself out of the haze he found himself in, standing back up and tilting the light at a deeper angle, to get it exact where he needs it to be. He needs to focus. He needs to get this done.
He focuses back in, ignoring the faint fuzziness at the edges of his eyes, reworking the wires with only a bit more difficulty before starting on sanding the metal pieces, making them just right. He tilts his head once thats done, biting on his bottom lip. There's something off, he thinks its too long, so he goes to grab the electric saw, without much thought, without even a glance.
It should've been unsurprising, the way he reaches directly for the blade and slices his finger open immediately, but Harley still jumps, still swears loudly, continuously, again, quickly grabbing a napkin sat beside him and pushing it onto the cut, hissing as pain shoots through his bones.
And of course, just at that moment, does another voice chip in, of a man who should be asleep but somehow, right now, is awake. "Baby? Harls, it's two in the morning, what're you doin' up?"
If that wasn't bad enough, there's something else you should know about one Harley Keener. The man can handle horror movies, can handle jump scares and needles and the ocean like a champ. But when he sees blood? When he sees the drops of red crimson, escaping from his finger, he can feel his legs go weak, wobbling like jelly, can feel his head start to spin. His stomach start to lurch.
He can hear Peter speak up again, but the words sound muffled from the ringing in his ears, and before he knows it, the room is spinning and he's falling to the floor, and he's blinking-
And then he's in a bed. Staring up at a sleek white ceiling, with a wooden fan circling slowly in an almost soothing rhythm, the noise adding a faint hum into the room. He groans, throwing an arm over his eyes and wincing as his finger hits the pillow, because he recognizes that fan.
"Hey, you're awake!" He lowers the arm just enough to peek up at Peter in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame with his hip, holding two glasses with a softer smile on his eyes, even as his eyes sparkle. He walks further into the room, placing the glances onto the table before sitting on the sheets besides his legs, placing a hand onto his knee and squeezing once. "Sorry, I was just grabbing some water. How are you feeling?"
His eyes, looking golden in the moonlight cascading through the linen blinds, pierce through his guard as easily as they did the first day they met, the first night they spent together, the first day they kissed, their first date. The way he knows they will on their wedding day, as he glances down at the ring shimmering on his ring finger as Peter squeezes his knee again. "'M alright. I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" His eyebrows raises. "For passing out?" At Harleys nod, Peter scoffs into faint laughter, glancing away. "I mean, after the first few seconds of "oh god he passed out what happened?" And I found the cut on your finger, I wasn't too concerned about that. That is not what you should apologize for." Harley winces again, but this time its not at the pain, or the way his finger is throbbing against the bandages Peter must've put there after dragging him to bed. No, this time its at the heated glare Peter sends his way, the annoyance only a cover for the sheer amount of concern swirling in his irises. His hand runs up and down his leg, then, and Harley tries to ignore the way it sends shivers down his spine. "Why were you up, baby?"
His voice is much softer than his look, and Harley sags as he sighs, dropping his arm completely from his face and picking at the sheets below him with a shrug. "I wanted to get the suit done. The Iron Lad suit?" Peter hums, showing he's listening, but doesn't say anything else as Harley pauses, knowing Harley has more to say, just the same as he knows Harley likes sugar in his coffee, or the same he knows the way he likes to stand in the sunbeams just to feel the warmth, or likes his hair to be played with. Knowing Harley, through and through. "I just-" He huffs, lightly, before glancing back up into Peter's eyes, and then, when that becomes too intense, to the wall behind him. "I keep having- dreams. Nightmares. Of you getting hurt, of you needing me and I just- I cant-"
He doesn't finish, leaning back to look up at the ceiling, again, and blink away the burning tears pooling at his rims. He hears a sigh, low and sad, before a hand comes up to cup his jaw and cheek, to lower his face back down until their eye to eye, until Peter leans forward and their noses brush, their foreheads touching, leaning against him gently. "You gotta trust me, Harley."
When Harley starts to rebuttal with an "I do-", Peter just shushes him with a kiss, leaving his breathless as he leans back again, the brunet pulling back again and laughing airily as Harley leans in subconsciously, wanting more. "I know you do, baby, but you gotta trust me." He stares deeply into him, and Harley can't help but to stare back, but to melt into the pools of honey warming his soul. "Trust that I'll try my hardest to come back, to come home to you. I can't-" Peter puffs out warm air that brushes against his lips, that Harley inhales and lets warm his insides as his heart thumps heavily in his chest. "I can't promise anything, God I wish I could, but- I'll try. I'll try my hardest to get home to you."
With the way Peter is staring into him, pleading and begging him to understand, theres no way Harley couldn't. He nods, and Peter pushes his nose against him again, rubbing it in a butterfly kiss that makes Harley scrunch his own, and chuckle as he rubs back. "Okay," He murmurs, whispers, as Peter smiles sapily back at him. "Okay."
They lean back into another kiss, this one lasting longer, lingering, soft and full of emotions they couldn't show, they couldn't speak, Peter's hands running up to the back of his neck and Harley's grabbing onto his collar, his shoulder.
After they pull away, Peter leans in fully and wraps Harley into a hug, that Harley folds into easily, pressing another kiss to Peter's collarbone. "We can-" Peter speaks back up, tone hushed and crackled in the cold winter night sky. "We can work on the suit together, on Monday? If you want."
Its a compromise, and Harley jumps at the chance, but not without a faint tease of, "Not tomorrow?" The words slightly slurred together as exhaustion starts to return, creeping up on him slowly, steadily.
Peter snorts, and pinches his side lightly, making Harley yelp. Just the reaction he wanted. "Tomorrow is a rest day." He says firmly, and Harley doesn't even think of fighting against him, just shuffling closer to the brunet with a hum.
"Monday." He agrees, voice barely a whisper as sleep slips his way into him, as his eyes slowly fall closed and his breathing starts to even.
Peter just pulls him closer, rubbing a heavy hand up and down his back. And just as he's about to give into the feeling, he feels another kiss pressed to his head, like a promise, easing the last tension from his body and allowing him to falling into an easy, calm slumber.
26 notes · View notes
capricornus-rex · 5 years ago
Text
The Haunt of Redemption (4)
Tumblr media
Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow
Chapter 4: Incoming! | Cal Kestis x Reader
Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.
Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis
Also posted in AO3
Chapters: 1 - 2 | Previous: Chapter 3 | Next: Chapter 5 | Masterlist
4 of ?
His holotable beeped, signaling an incoming message.
“Admiral?” he greeted when he answered the call.
“Sir, the transport containing the suspect has arrived. Shall I call an escort for you?”
“No need. I’ll be on my way.”
“Very good, sir. Transmission out.”
He strode through the hallways, Stormtroopers stiffened their backs until they’re erect at the presence of the Eleventh Brother, commanding officers curtly saluted when he passed them by, and he blatantly ignored the Fifth Brother and Eighth Sister in his periphery.
He arrived at the interrogation block and entered the cell where they’re keeping the captive.
It was Boss Lora.
Cal stood by the Stormtrooper and demanded the details.
“Lora Argul, proprietor of the Yewa Docking Bay & Inn,”
“And where is this docking bay located?”
The Stormtrooper glanced at his datapad, “In Hoga, sir. That’s in Cameegon,”
Cal repeated the planet’s name in a questioning tone.
“A temperate planet in the Daoro System, Jama Sector,”
“Daoro? Then it’s an Outer Rim planet,” the young Inquisitor pointed out, he stepped closer to the adult woman strapped to the interrogation machine. “Don’t bother struggling, it’s not like we’re going to set you free anytime soon.”
“Please, I don’t have anything to do with you! I’m just a business owner!”
“Oh, I know,” Cal cooed emotionlessly. “But I think you know something that I need. You might know somebody I’m looking for.”
“I don’t know anybody! My customers come and go, I only have my family!”
Lora tirelessly pleaded to Cal—it’s the same words in different order, but the same idea all in all. The young Inquisitor watched the prisoner wriggle in the torture machine, begging without a pause, until she succumbed to her tears.
Cal walked closer to Lora, a colorful woven bracelet stood out from the drab of her dark brown work clothes. He reaches for the bracelet and now his Force ability comes in play.
“Look what I made you, Mama!”
“Oh, how beautiful! Thank you, sweetheart!”
“Here, I’ll help you wear it. Do you like it?”
“I love it! I’ll always wear it so everyone can see.”
He saw the bright-eyed girl that is her daughter. The warmth of the child’s love radiated all over this woman’s being. His Psychometry allowed him to “borrow” such emotions, thoughts, and images for a period of time; he has done so to his multiple captives on their various campaigns ever since he was induced into the Inquisitorius.
Yes, he thought as he found her weakness.
“You have a very kind daughter. Kaleen, isn’t it?”
“How did you know her name?!” Lora roared.
She knew she never said anything, she only thought of her child when Cal started to enter her mind using his powers. It was something she has never seen or experienced before—and it terrified her. The wild, out-of-pace beating of her heart throbbed through her chest, any moment now she might feel it burst through.
“Oh, I should remember to apologize to your daughter personally. The little brawl in your cantina must have given her a big scare—with what her papa unconscious and her mother taken away right in front of her very eyes. Who knows what that little girl is thinking right now.”
Lora tugged herself from her restraints as far as she could until she’s eye-to-eye with Cal.
“You do so much as touch the tip of a hair strand from my daughter, I swear I will kill you!”
Cal smirked albeit concealed by his mask, satisfied that he had provoked the woman, he kept the bait hanging right in front of her until she tells him what they want to hear.
He consciously avoided the question, “You are going to tell me where you’ve seen the fugitives.”
“What fugitives?”
“You will tell me,” the smirk seemingly lost its amusement, Cal stepped closer and clutched the woman by the wrist as he demanded. “Where she is.”
At that exact moment, Lora suddenly felt like someone or something was tearing her brain open while fully conscious—the pain was excruciating, albeit the absence of the high-voltage shocks of the actual machine; Cal’s grip grew tighter, nearly barring the circulation to her hand, the next thing in Lora’s mind was you. She never intended to think or speak of you in front of this fearsome, young man—to her, it just happened.
There…! Cal celebrated sooner than he could wait.
The memory that played was your first time in the docking bay, her very first interaction with you, Lora still had that stingy tone when speaking to you. The image of you examining the ship she asked you to fix as an entrance trial and smiling back at her with a smug confidence played behind Cal’s eyes.
“Well now, I gotta say your work is impressive, kid!”
“When do I start, boss?”
There.
Your smile. Your laugh.
Even the faintest melody of your laugh came through for him.
For one, his heart skipped a beat—he saw the length of your hair has changed but your smile remained the same.
“Please…! Enough!” Lora sputtered out crying.
Cal jerked his hand away and turned around abruptly.
“Prepare my ship!” the boy Inquisitor commanded.
“Right away, sir!” a lower-ranking officer promptly replied and went ahead for the task.
“Bu-But, sir,” the admiral stuttered, hoping that it doesn’t offend the Eleventh Brother to stop him in his tracks. “What about the prisoner?”
“I leave it to you then, Admiral.”
The Eleventh Brother marched to the hangar, flanking him were two TIE pilots. Upon his arrival, the technicians have just finished recalibrating the TIE Fighters as well as his ship: a TIE Interceptor that he personally modified to his liking. The technician unclamped the docking boot of the Interceptor while his co-workers did the same for the two other Fighters.
“I want transports each carrying assault units and a squad of fighters deployed en route to Cameegon with me.”
“Yes sir, understood!” the attending officer’s heels clicked and marched to the hangar’s command center with an urgency.
The young Inquisitor climbed into the cockpit, the glass dome slid shut with the touch of a button. His fingers follow an invisible yet learned pattern of switches and buttons. There was an indescribable feeling that he cannot pinpoint with a single word, perhaps the closest being “elated.”
The TIEs’ engines hummed in a collective baritone, lights on the screen flickered to life, the ships hovered and then zoomed past the ray shield of the hangar.
—–
Meanwhile, back in Cameegon, you’ve been training in the forest for the rest of your day-off. You were out of breath, but the clean air from the trees refreshed your lungs as you inhaled and then exhaled. This expansive stretch of land has become your own haven—it’s where you mostly do your Jedi training and meditation, it took a long while for you to get used to doing them alone.
BD-1 may have kept you company while you spend your time in the woods, but it was different having someone actually with you, though you didn’t want to offend the little one so you always kept him close to you.
“Alright, BD, toss me another!”
The little white droid—perched upon a tree branch a few paces in front of you—trilled and threw the whole, rotten fruit in its claw—that you’ve installed yourself some time ago—and you went charging towards it; when the distance was enough, your heels sprang from the carpet of leaves and you somersaulted in the air, severing the target in half in the process and then landing back on the balls of your feet.
BD cheered for you in high-pitched whistles and song-like trills, followed by another string of conversational tones.
“Really? Should I have jumped a bit earlier?”
“Trill, chirp!”
“Hah, well, I really can’t tell if it’s by the second, little guy! Maybe I could borrow your scanners next time,” you joked.
The droid replied with a nervous trill, but you knew that he was only playing along.
“How’s the claw? You getting used to it or should I modify it some more?”
“Boo���” BD’s singular scope-like scanner examined the external appendage. “Woop!”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do later,”
You beckoned the little droid to come to you, it activated its little turbojets on its feet and then willingly clambered on your shoulder. You continued on with your training, cutting down the training dummies that you made out of logs and leaves—your own regimen consisted of combining new moves with learned ones, last-minute improvisations if the need arises, and inventing more styles which is a hybrid of both old and new. You liked the adrenaline pumping in you when using the environment against your “enemies.”
Afterwards, you’re traversing the terrain, knowing the twists and turns of the forest like the back of your hand—a result worth of seven months’ progress. The path that you followed was one of your personal favorites—it was still an obstacle course, but you cut through and traversed it effortlessly. You decided to banter with your little droid friend while you trekked uphill.
“Hanging in there, BD?”
“Woop! Bee-woop.”
“Oh, you think so? I sounded like him for a moment there?”
You gave a weak chuckle in response to your exploration droid’s comment. Next, it gave out a somewhat apologetic tone, to your surprise you asked him why he was sounding like that.
“No need to apologize, buddy. It’s okay, don’t worry.”
“Woo!”
“Heh, you sure perk up quick!”
You’re almost to the top. The end of the hill’s path wasn’t the real summit—at least for you. You scaled the rock face of the waterfall nearby, there were enough rocks sticking on the wall to serve as handholds and footholds. It was a quick climb to get to the top of the waterfalls, only then, you’ve really seen the true expanse of Cameegon. The sight of the lower jungle and the river delta connecting to the sea was breathtaking.
How I wish you’re here to see it. You muttered under your breath, dedicating it to Cal.
The entire view took off a heavy load from your chest. Simply look at it warranted a smile from you and a look of wonderment as if seeing it for the very first time.
“So pretty, isn’t it, BD?”
“Woo-boop!”
You patted the little droid’s head as the two of you gazed upon the majesty of the unspoiled part of the planet.
Over time, you’ve grown to love this planet because of the solitude that the trees have given you, it was your secondary comfort next to the company of your family, the Mantis crew.
Your sightseeing was disturbed when you heard machinery humming—the noise got louder by the second—and then three black ships come speeding past your view. Your eyebrows furrowed, something about them tells you that this is not your regular merchant convoy.
Their flight direction came from the east and they’re heading westward. Your eyes squinted in suspicion—you peered through your binoculars, zooming in by turning the knob resting by your thumb, until you got a better look of the silhouettes. Your lips parted open.
“Oh no…” you shuddered.
Without a second’s notice, you kicked the coil of rope sitting by the edge of the waterfall and rappelled down. You started bolting through the path in the forest, while running you try to reach Cere’s signal from the Mantis—but the wildlife was so dense that it interfered with the clarity of the signal.
“Cere! Can you hear me?! Cere, come in!”
A garbled radio frequency was your only response, but your feet kept running—it’s as if it was moving on its own—and made your way back to the ship.
The thought of the settlement suddenly entered your mind, but logically, the town is much farther from your training course in the forest—you’ll never make it in time even if you drive with your speeder’s top speed. In the middle of your combined panic and contemplation, you stumbled upon a detour and realized it too late.
You look around and find that there are no familiar landmarks around the area.
You’re lost and alone among the trees, accompanied by the chittering of unseen animals, and the apparent presence of the Empire… or the Inquisitors.
44 notes · View notes
dramaticskeleton · 5 years ago
Text
Chapter 2: Sisters
A/N: Here's chapter two! I hope you enjoy. I'd love if you left a review! :)
  ~~~~~ "Turn your head to me. No, not that far, just a bit. Yeah, perfect." I take four photos, each one at a slightly different angle. Riley had asked for a photoshoot to advertise her new designs and Ollie had offered to model. He's currently wearing black pants and a vermilion button down with a white pattern on it. "You look good." He winks at me. "You think so?" "You'd look better if you took it off though," I reply with a smirk. "Oh, get a room, you two," Riley says, exasperated from where she stands by the window. I laugh. "Ollie, let's get one more of you standing and then you can change into the next one."
~~~~~
The days blur together. My schedule involves waking up at twelve in the afternoon, working for ten hours and then going out the until two or three in the morning. I still find a new girl in the clubs every few nights, but I don't take any of them back to my place. Fancy's making biweekly trips up to London and I find that I actually look forward to seeing her. She pulls a new trick on me every time and it's enough to make me curious about what else she's got up her sleeve. Eventually, I stop going out altogether, just filling my time with work between her visits.
We're sharing a smoke after another night together, sitting in bed with the sheets covering our bodies. She's got her leg flung over me, and her chest presses into my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her, holding her close. I resist the urge to kiss the side of her head. I've already crossed a line by becoming exclusive with her.
She holds the cigarette up to me, her fingers lightly brushing my lips. I inhale, letting the smoke fill my lungs before letting it out. I blow it gently in her face, watching as she crinkles her nose. It's cute. Not for the first time, I'm struck by her beauty. I wonder if she'll let me take photos of her. I haven't touched my camera in months, but I want to capture the expression on her face and the way the lamp light strikes her hair, turning it metallic. Before I know what I'm saying, I ask her if she'll model for me.
She puffs on the fag, contemplating. "I didn't know you were a photographer."
I shrug. "It's just a hobby."
"Are you a professional?”
"I make money off it, if that's what you're asking."
"I'll pay you in something better than money," she says, a naughty gleam in her eye. She moves to sit on top of me, grinding her hips suggestively. I pull the cig from her lips, stroking her face.
"I only accept cash."
She leans into the touch, turning her head to kiss my arm. I realize the exact moment when she notes the scars. Before I can pull away, she grabs my wrist.
"Are you ready to talk about this now?" she demands, tracing the marks with a finger. I shiver at the touch.
"No." She doesn't fight me when I retract my arm. I drape it off the edge of the bed, turning my palm down so the scars are hidden again.
"If you've got a problem, you should talk to somebody."
I shoot her a sharp glance. "And that somebody is you, I guess?"
"I mean, I'm here." She rolls off to the side, resting her head on my shoulder. A few quiet moments pass before she says softly, "I've been there, you know. I never did anything, but I thought about it."
I try to think about her, this flirtatious, lively, devilish woman, as I had been. I can't imagine her holding a knife to herself, crying in the dark. "You love life."
"I love distraction," she corrects me. She turns her head up and I can feel her breath on the bottom of my chin. I don't move as she admits, "I've got an ex-boyfriend I'm trying to forget."
Me too. I don't say the words out loud. It's not true, I'm not trying to forget him. I'm just trying to forget his sorrowful eyes as I left him in that villa. I'm trying to drown out the sound of his pleading voice, begging me to stay, saying we can get through the shit together. I often wish I had just listened to him; had turned around and let him hold me in his arms, murmur that he loved me, and continued on. My life would have been different. Better. Instead, I had been scared and walked away.
Fancy reaches a hand up, brushing away the tears I don't realize have slipped down my face. Her hands feel warm to the touch. She sits up and watches me for a moment, her eyes searching for something. Whatever she finds, it makes her cup her hands on my jaw, leaning toward me. This kiss is gentle, none of the rough passion we usually share. Her lips are soft against mine, feather light and tender. It feels more intimate.
She lays back down, resting her head on me again. She traces circles on my skin. 
"He was abusive," she says randomly. It takes me a moment to realize she's gone back to the topic from before. "So I left him. And now I fuck around to try and remove the feeling of his hands on me. I thought once what it would be like to be rid of him permanently, but I wasn't brave enough."
"There's nothing brave about it," I say. My words are bland, toneless. I stare at the ceiling. "It's a cowardly move."
"You can't help what you feel."
I close my eyes. I've never spoken about almost killing myself to anyone. Nobody has been with me long enough to notice my attempt. I'm not sure if it's annoyance or relief I feel that Fancy wants to talk about it. On the one hand, someone would know. On the other… someone would know. The thought of placing my secret in another person's hands is terrifying to me. But there's a part of me craves the trust that would come with it, and the intimacy. I take a deep breath and Fancy goes motionless.
"I ran away from someone I shouldn't have," I start shakily. "I made a lot of mistakes after that. I almost got married but I left her too. I had my own business but it wasn't as satisfying as I thought it would be. It just got to be too much. So I decided it would be better if I just ended it. I came really close too."
"What was it like?" The curiosity in her voice makes my eyes fly open.
"What?"
She sits up and stares at me, a peculiar light in her eyes. "In that moment. What was it like?"
I think about the night five months ago when all my festering emotions came to a head. I can still feel the sharp metal on my arm. The pain had been almost unbearable as I dragged the knife along the taut skin. The blood had been warm as it dribbled out. I remember lying down, the sheets rough against my back, holding my phone to my face for a while, watching a video of my love's face, listening to him say my name over and over again. The thought that he would be the last thing I saw, the last person I'd hear had been like a balm on the fear that welled up in my chest as I felt consciousness leave me.
"I was petrified at first," I admit after a while. "Then my mind went blank and I was more at peace. I was ready to die."
"But you didn't."
My mouth twitches. "No, I didn't. I woke up an hour later." I don't mention the text that I saw when my eyes opened. The message from the one person I never thought I would hear from again, as if he knew what I had done. It had been a simple hello, and I had responded in kind, intending to leave it at that, but he kept sending texts, keeping me from drifting off into oblivion again. I don't tell her that I called him, just to hear him talk to me. He couldn't have known he was talking to me after an attempt at my own life, but I could tell he knew something was wrong. His voice had been kind and soothing as he spoke.
Fancy touches my face, bringing me back to the present. "I'm glad," she whispers. She gives me that gentle kiss again. But as she moves down my chest, I realize it's not her I'm seeing but him. I imagine it's him trailing down my body, rubbing me in the right places. When she looks up at me, it's his eyes I see, warm and loving. I blink and he's gone and I feel a pang of sadness course through me. I stop Fancy before she can go any lower.
"Later," I say, pulling her back up. She nestles against me. Before long, she's asleep, her breathing slow and steady. I continue to stare blankly into the air, one arm around her body. My mind is a whirlwind of memories and thoughts. After all this time, after all the women I've slept with, even after almost a year with one of them, he's still the only one I can think about at the end of the day. His laugh echoes around my head. I can see his half smirk as if he were standing right in front of me. I wonder what he would say if he were here.
Fuck, Freddy, you look awful.
I smile a little at the thought. Those are exactly the words that would leave his mouth. Then he would proceed to fix me up, making fun of my methods of drowning him out. He wouldn't hate me for what I did to him, he would just try to pick up where we left off. He would kiss me, and say everything would get better, now that we were together again.
I close my eyes, his face swimming in my mind as I drift off to sleep.
~~~~~ The next morning, Fancy wakes me up by poking me in the side.
"Hmm?" I mumble.
"I've just gotten a text from my sister."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"No, I just haven't gone to see her in a while. She's asking me to come visit."
"Alright, go ahead then," I say, starting to roll over, but she catches my shoulder. She asks shyly,
"Will you come with me?"
I open my eyes slowly to look at her, surprised. Increased intimacy, yeah sure. Exclusivity, fine. But meeting family? I hadn't realized we'd reached developed a relationship that meant enough to warrant that. "I don't… I don't think that's such a good idea."
"Why not?"
"I mean, we're not really anything, are we?"
"Come on, it's been months. I haven't been with anyone else. Unless there's someone on the side for you?" She hovers over me, lips pursed together in a cute little pout. I give her a reassuring kiss.
"There's not."
"I've already told them I'm seeing you, so they want to meet you."
I raise a brow. "You told them about me?"
"I had to explain why I wasn't visiting anymore. So, will you come?"
I hesitate. There is a line in the sand that I'm not sure I want to cross. She is asking for something more from me and did I really want to start going down this path? All three of my last relationships ended terribly and I hadn't been with anyone seriously in two years. But Fancy had pulled me out of a downward spiral. I'm not losing myself in alcohol and smoke every night. Instead, I am almost sane again, and I look forward to seeing her texts every day. She makes me want to live again. The least I could do would be to do this for her.
"Yeah, alright," I say, sitting up.
"Well come on then, get up. We've got to go! " She yanks the blanket off with a happy shriek.
"What, right now?"
"They want us there for lunch." She rummages in my closet while I take a shower, pulling out a simple black shirt and a pair of jeans. It doesn't do anything for my pale features, but I don't complain. Nothing could make me look better. Next to me, she looks like a bright flower, in a little red dress and a yellow scarf wrapped around her neck.
Within an hour, we're standing outside a white building with balconies jutting out above the street. The townhouse looks pristine with its window boxes and autumn wreath on the door. Fancy clasps my hand and squeezes tight.
"Ready?" I give her a slight nod and we walk up to the door. She taps rapidly on it, then takes my hand again. She seems nervous. A minute later, the door opens to reveal a woman who could be Fancy's twin. She's got the same burnished auburn hair, though hers is cut short to her shoulders. They share the bright brown eyes that reflect the warmth of the sunlight. The woman turns those eyes to me, running them down my body before letting them rest on my face for an uncomfortable amount of time. She smiles tightly.
"This is him?" she asks. Even their voices sound similar.
Fancy leans into me. I suspect it's more to support herself than to comfort me. "This is Freddy."
"Is he sick, or does he always look like this?"
"Mercy!" Fancy chides, pushing her way inside.
"Well, come in then. Grace has just arrived so we can start."
We follow her sister into the house. The inside is just as perfect as the outside. Everything looks professionally cleaned and the couches look like they haven't been sat on for years. She leads us to the kitchen off to the side, to the table in the middle of the room, where another woman sits in front of a bag of Maccies. Her blonde hair hides her face, but when she hears us walk in, she lifts her head, flinging her hair behind her.
"Oh, thank god," she says, tearing into the bag. "I'm starving."
"Grace, don't be rude. Say hello before you stuff your face." Grace already has chips in her mouth. She mumbles a hello around the food, giving me a little wave. The red-haired woman rolls her eyes and turns to me. "That is Grace."
I can't help the bark of laughter that comes out. "Sorry," I say as all three of them give me weird looks. "It's just your names. And you're eating fast food. It doesn't seem like it fits."
Mercy smiles winningly. "It's a guilty pleasure. Come on, sit down. We weren't sure what you wanted so we just got you a burger and some chips."
"That's fine," I tell her, taking my place next to Fancy. She rests her hand on my knee with a little squeeze. She lets her sisters grill me on where I'm from, my family, my job. I learn that Mercy is a psychiatrist and Grace is a doctor at the local hospital. They each have husbands who are notably missing. When I ask, Mercy just says,
"We didn't want you to be intimidated."
They tell me stories about growing up together and I admit to feeling a little jealous. As an only child, I never had interactions like that. When they run out of childhood stories, they go back to asking me questions. When the food is gone, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. On my way back, the sisters' voices float to me and I stop short.
"Is he sick?"
"No.”
"I can see the entire bone structure of his face. Is he a druggie?"
"No!" Fancy shrieks. "He's got his own business. Now, stop it, both of you. He's just had a rough time of it. He's a good person. He makes me feel… happy again."
"It's good to see you smiling," Mercy sounds soft, caring. "You look like less of a wreck too."
"Thanks."
"Honestly," Grace says, "I never thought you'd find anyone else after— ow! What?"
"Don't say his name, not in this house.”
"Sorry."
"Listen, Fancy," Mercy's voice takes on a cautious tone. "Mam asked after you yesterday. Asked if you'd like to come to Christmas dinner this year."
There are few moments of uneasy silence pass by. I can't walk in there now, not when there's clearly a moment going on, so I stay in the hallway, listening.
"Why?" Fancy finally demands. Her words come out clip and chilly.
"She said she regrets what happened between you two. She'd have called you herself, but she doesn't have your number."
"It's been seven years."
"She wants to make amends, Fancy," Grace says.
"Why?" Fancy asks again.
"She's been thinking about family. She wants us all together this year. Start over."
"She's the one that kicked me out."
"Yeah, and she made a mistake. Give her a chance."
"Why should I, when she never gave me one."
"Be the bigger person, Fancy."
"What about Da? Is he going to let me come back?" 
"Da will do whatever Mam wants."
Fancy is quiet and then I hear her push her chair back. I push away from the wall I'm leaning against and make it look like I'm just on my way back. I walk into the kitchen at the same time she walks out and we bump into each other. I steady her with a hand.
"Are you alright?" I whisper to her.
"Fine." She looks to her sisters over her shoulder. "I'll consider about it."
Mercy nods. "That's why I told you now, so you'd have time to think on it."
Fancy smiles wryly. "Thanks. We're leaving now."
She grabs my arm and drags me down the hallway. I give a quick wave goodbye before we're out the door. The car ride back is silent and tense. I let her brood until we're at my place again. She goes to the bedroom while I set about making a pot of tea for us. When I bring the steaming mug to her, I find her lying in the bed with the covers over her head. I sit on the edge, putting the cup on the ground. I rub her through the blanket.
"Do you want to talk about it?" She groans. I climb over her and settle in the bed on her other side. When she lifts her head, I see that her eyes are red and puffy, streaks of makeup running down her cheeks. I pull her toward me, tucking her head under my chin. We lay like that for an hour, her sobbing into my chest, me holding her tight. When her weeping turns into soft whimpers, I ask again,
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Instead of answering me, she tilts her head up and starts kissing me. She shifts on top of me, the need for distraction evident in her touch. I oblige her. She moves with a fierceness that hasn't been present since the beginning of our relationship. It's like she's trying to forget the world again. So I kiss her lips, her cheeks, the space between her neck and shoulders. She moans and grinds herself against me in fervor. I flip her over and start dragging her dress up her legs. She paws at my chest, bunching my shirt in her hands. I pull it off, letting her fingers roam my chest. But this is not the moment for slow and passionate moves. Our coupling is rough and quick. When we're done, I roll off her, letting her shift to her side, her back to me. I tuck her in close and breath in her scent. Right as I'm about to drift off, she stirs. She turns over. I can feel her watching me, so I crack an eye.
"Do you love your parents?" I just nod my head. "I don't. Does that make me a bad person?"
I prop myself up on an elbow, looking down at her. Running a finger along her exposed shoulder, I say, "I got lucky with my parents. They've been there for me through everything. But if yours weren't good to you, you aren't obligated to love them."
"My mam wants me to come home for Christmas."
"Do you want to go?"
"I don't know." Fancy buries her head in the pillow again. "I haven't seen them in seven years. It would be nice, but I don't know if it will turn out like she thinks it will."
"That bad?"
"They kicked me out because I wouldn't go to medical school and I haven't been back since. What would you do?"
I haven't seen my parents in six years, haven't been back to their home in ten. I'd jump at the chance to spend the holidays with them, but they've loved me from day one, so it's hard for me to answer her. I settle for,
"Can you forgive them?"
Fancy glares at me. "Are you my shrink?"
I shrug. "It's important. If you can't find it in yourself to forgive them, then you shouldn't go back. Not until you can put the past behind you."
"You're incredibly attractive when you're talking sagely. Come here," she stretches her hands out to me.
I give her a smirk. "Again?"
"Just hold me, idiot."
I pull her close to my body. She falls asleep with her head against my chest.
3 notes · View notes
softhaos · 6 years ago
Text
STAR CROSSED
Tumblr media
pairing – do kyungsoo x reader
genre – angst, baker kyungsoo, soulmate au, trope inversion
description – love isn’t a crime unless you fall in love with the person who is supposedly your other half.
warning – one (1) mention of someone getting shot in the head if it counts as one?
word count – 1.8k
author’s note – this was supposed to be a cute fluffy drabble but that didn’t work out and idk i might make a part two / prequel / longer version to this if there is the want for a continuation?
Tumblr media
Kyungsoo is drained. He doesn’t admit it but the dark rings underneath his eyes that indicate many sleepless nights in a row beg to differ. His knuckles turn white from gripping the steering wheel too tightly. The road ahead of you is endless and lonely, but you know better than to indulge the comfort of the night. After all, the lights only shine on the few meters in front of you and don't expose the underlying dangers in the long run.
The car radio broke down a few hours ago and ever since, the silence ghosting is heavy. Neither of you has the energy nor the nerves to start a conversation. It's been days, maybe even weeks since you last slept well and carelessly and sometimes, you wonder when you'll ever reach the end of the tunnel. However, if you ever reach the end of the tunnel is another matter in itself.
Your eyes drift over to his hands. Something akin to guilt bubbles in you the longer you look at them. Kyungsoo’s warm hands were once just stained with flour as he baked new cakes and biscuits in his café that everyone at your former workplace lived, breathed and were willing to die for. He was just the quiet but observant baker who took the most pride in his lemon meringues and knew everyone’s favorite order by heart. But those days are gone.
Now, his hands are stained with blood and your name and that makes him a mistake in this world. You’re not any better in this sense. It's ironic, laughable and downright pitiful since you devoted your life to eradicating people who found their soulmates already before you ended up in the exact same predicament.
“I killed Baekhyun.” He breaks the silence. You steal a glance at him. Though his expression remains cool and neutral, you see the guilt hidden underneath slowly rising to the surface.
“You didn’t kill him. Just knocked him out,” you repeat for the umpteenth time.
“I shot him in the head.”
“Trust me, it’ll take more than a gun to kill him.”
Kyungsoo inhales sharply. He doesn’t have the energy to start this discussion again. It’s been countless days since the incident, countless days since the other enforcers put two and two together and figured it out. It’s still hard for him to wrap the fact around his head that his former customers – many of them even friends – didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger at him whereas you saw it coming all along. Though you really can’t blame him, because he’s never dealt with anything like this scenario before. Scratch that, never in a billion years would he expect to deal with anything remotely close to this.
They are just doing their job. Baekhyun was just obeying the law. It’s you and Kyungsoo who are in the wrong.
“Do you feel guilty whenever you shoot somebody?”
“I–” you choke on air and look at him wide-eyed. He glances at you and raises a brow, silently urging you to reply faster, before he focuses on the road ahead. No matter how long you’ve known him already, him feigning nonchalance is something you see through every time yet always fall for.
“I’ve never done that,” you mumble, eyes lowering to your own hands. “There’s never been the need to.”
There’s another pause of silence. Knowing that you won’t get another word out of him anytime soon, you start tracing the fine lines on your wrist. It’s fascinating and hard to believe that a single name on your skin can make or break your existence. It’s hard to believe, but that’s the reality.
“What are you thinking about?” Kyungsoo asks. He is still tense but his grip on the steering wheel has loosened quite a bit.
“I was wondering how things would've turned out if we hadn’t known each other in the first place. Neither of us would be in this mess right now.”
“Maybe you would’ve killed people by then.”
“At least it wouldn’t be you that the enforcers were after!” you exclaim with a raised tone and if it weren’t for the seatbelt, you would’ve attempted to stand up. “You wouldn’t be persecuted, you would continue living your nice, quiet life and most importantly, you wouldn’t have to keep it a secret that you’re in a relationship. And don’t even try to snap back, Kyungsoo. I know that sometimes, you really wanted to announce that you’re happy in a relationship so that Sehun stopped trying to set you up.”
You grind your palms into your closed eyes and let out a muffled, frustrated groan once you are done talking. As you let your emotions get the best out of you, you fail to notice the shift in your boyfriend.
“Hey,” he says in a dangerously low and warning tone, “you may be right with that, but don’t say that as if I ever regretted meeting you. You know that you mean everything to me.”
“What we’re doing is wrong.” is the only thing you can bite back with.
“We shouldn’t be alive at this point. Of course, I know that what we’re doing is against the law.” He breathes out and detaches a hand from the steering wheel to hold yours. There’s something awfully soothing in the way his thumb rubs circles onto your skin and you feel your frantic heartbeat slowing down to a steady rhythm.
Time passes and you find yourself pulling up his sleeve to reveal the fine letters on his wrist. The thought passes your mind; if you had seen your name on someone else’s wrist when you first started out as a law enforcer (hell, you even took the oath to fulfill your duties as one), you wouldn’t have hesitated to turn them in.
Now, the image of turning Kyungsoo in is just unthinkable. It’s funny how much your name on his skin and his name on yours ultimately means to you. In the end, they are just fine black lines, but to you, they are more worth than all of the riches in the world combined.
“I know you’re still torn.” Kyungsoo pulls you out of your thoughts. “But I’m afraid I can’t give you more time to think. I need an answer.”
You pale. “W-what do you mean?”
Kyungsoo notices your uneasiness and continues to press figures into your hand. “Do you really want to run or would you rather turn yourself in?” His voice is a little bit louder than a whisper, but it’s hoarse and you can tell he struggled to put out his words without cracking.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve here…”
“I’m not forcing you to follow what I want to do” he explains softly, “But I don't think I can keep up with this if we’re on the run and you don’t even want to. It doesn’t make sense to hide from the authorities in that case. If you want to hand yourself over, just say so. I won’t judge you. Maybe, considering that you were an enforcer, you won’t even be harmed.”
“Why would you be willing to die?” Because really, the only outcome in turning yourselves in is death. There haven’t been any exceptions and there won’t be an exception this time too. You know that better than anyone else.
Kyungsoo smiles weakly. “Why? Because I want you to be happy and have no doubts.”
You don’t answer him immediately. In fact, he doesn’t push you to respond soon. For someone who stated that he doesn’t have any more time to lose, he’s incredibly patient and continues to drive into the unknown. However, his hand never lets go of yours.
There are a billion reasons why running away from everyone is bad and will only bring an even bigger tragedy with it. You’ve learned it all at the academy, all the possible consequences one will suffer if they don’t abide by the law. Just recollecting the memory of the lectures sends you shivers down your spine.
Against the billion reason stands only one reason why running away from everyone is good. It’s not even a real reason, it’s just one word. Truth be told, you don’t know yourself what the word is.
(Kyungsoo? Fate? Love?)
You’re still indecisive. You don’t know what you want or what is right. Do the billion reasons overpower the one measly word, or does the meaning of the one reason carry the weight of the many combined? The temptation to ask Kyungsoo is big but will prove itself as futile, you already know that.
As you try to figure out the right choice, you turn to Kyungsoo. He’s paler than usual, you notice. He hasn’t slept well for a very long time and is desperate and–
means the world to you.
Kyungsoo looks better when more color flushes his face. He looks better when the corners of his mouth tug upwards as he looks at his newest successful cake. He looks better when he’s subtly glowing from pride as he presents you his best tray of lemon meringues and urges you to taste them. He would be slightly pushy while doing so with one hand resting on your shoulder.
Speaking of lemon meringues, it’s been a while since you had some of his deserts. It’s been a while since he last baked. And if he’s going to die, you don’t want him to die with blood and guilt as the last things imprinted on his hands.
“Pull over. Let me drive for a while,” you say, no doubt laced in your voice.
Kyungsoo raises a brow and that’s the only reaction he shows. He does as told though, and in the next moment it’s you in the driver’s seat and stepping on the pedal.
“I think as long as we get off the mainland, we might have a shot,” you state, eyes focused on the road. From the corner of your eye, you see Kyungsoo looking very unconvinced and slightly irritated. When you place one hand on top of his, he caves in. You swear you see the corners of his mouth tugging upwards; relief.
You're right, Kyungsoo looks much better when he has no weight on his shoulders.
In no way is it a guarantee that you’ll be safer off the mainland. But it’s a start and that will surely prolong your last breath. It's hope, you realize.
(It's not your set answer, but hope might the one reason.)
Maybe you'll live long enough to witness the change. Maybe the authorities will open their eyes and realize that being with your other half doesn’t equal to growing dependent on them. Being with the one tattooed on your skin doesn’t equal to neglecting everyone else or being capable of loving one person only.
Maybe not today, but hopefully someday, finding and being with your soulmate won't be illegal anymore.
124 notes · View notes
beet-rootesoupevodkabanya · 8 years ago
Text
Post-apocalypse military AU. (Part 1 of exact situation)
Well... It's here, dear Feli. Part dedicated to our headcanon about Vitya's family. 😅😋😉✨ 1). "Lilichka" - it's a reference to the abusive muse of Vladimir Mayakovsky. 2). Кобелина - I really have no idea how to translate this insult properly. It literally means male dog. It's used as a "horny male slut".😅 Typical insult from women to man in Russia. What's on the Earth is happening here??... Yuuri stopped in the hall, understanding nothing. - If U wanna know, go and ask Snow King yourself, piglet! - roared Yurio tearing around the room. The fact he called newbie not pig but a piglet despite of outrage condition could mean only one thing: Kitty was seriously worried. Beka set near silently and studied some papers in their local web archive. All the rush began in early morning when a car from Safe Zone arrived. To enter Military Zone special permission is needed. It has to be filled by officer and approved by someone not less then a general. All Snow King's team liked to stay on the wall. Because of the view, wind and weird feeling of very special freedom. Of course this time arriving of a car was used as a reason to have morning coffee there. - We have a permitted visitor. - driver's voice through connector sounded artificial like in a stupid movie. Permitted? Visitor?... Watching how faces of both Victor and Yurio became pale and frosted was almost scary. Without any word they stared down. Visitor will have to get out of the car in front of gate's guard. To verify the permission. - I can search about who it is and who gave the permission. - Beka mentioned with quiet support. Victor just nodded nervously. And Kitty blindly pushed his shoulder accepting the help. But both blonds didn't take their eyes off of car... The door opened. These two stared down as abandoned puppy and kitten. Same desperate look... Beautiful blond-haired women got out of the car. Movie star from old Hollywood films... Or even better... Long hair, black almost luxury dress, high heels, absolutely unsuitable for such a trip. She raised her head. This face left no doubts. Under the wall stayed the closes relative of General Snow King. His mother. - Блядь.../ Fuck... - fizzed Yurio. (Secretly he hoped it will be after him. He will survive it. Although... Of course their General though the same...) Yuuri turned to Victor. His face was blank. Scary blank. And lifeless. - Visitor is not allowed to get in until the official who invited them meets them behind the wall. - Snow King's voice was even hard to recognize through connector. - It's an order. He turned to teammates: - Let's go. Trainings are cancelled for today. What's with him???... Yuuri helplessly looked from one to another trying to realize the situation completely. In tense silence they returned to their base's living room. Kaiyo finally reached his hand to Victor gathering thoughts enough to ask him about it all. And in they moment Yakov broke in. - Vityaaa! What a fuck have U just done??? - old officer wasn't really mad. More like perplexed and grumpy because of it. Victor just frowned tiredly: - Call back your permission. U had no right to... Not to mention now U'll either be kicked by Lilichka or she - he nodded to the window - will scratch your mug again. Of course their teacher wasn't able to give up this easy: - I know you cancelled all her requests for visit. I just... I couldn't leave it like that! - he laid a hand on General's shoulder - C'mon, Vitya! U're an adult mature man. What's with these childish offenses? She's your mother after all. Get down and talk to her finally. I will let her in anyway. - His voice sounded softer. - It will be better for U. Snow King recoiled back. In short, almost unnoticeable move: - Do as U want... He turned away and walked out of the room. Muttering curses General Feltsman hurried outside. To meet the visitor. And Yuuri helplessly tugged Kitty's sleeve: - What's happening here? - Go and ask Victor. He must be on the roof. - repeated Yurio. Frowned and added almost begging: - Just fucking go, Katsudon. Technically it was rather clear why Snow King went to the roof - just because it was impossible to get there any normal way. Only by uncomfortable emergency stairs. Yakov or Lilya wouldn't ever go there. And his connector was turned off.. Is it polite - to break in without permission?.. In Yuuri's land it is supposed to be really rude - to interrupt someone's breakdown, not letting to hide shameful condition. But Private Katsuki lived out of home for too long to believe in that old stereotypes. Not to mention in modern world it all is more like an aesthetic tradition rather then a real belief. ...He unsurely stepped on the roof. It was a bit colder there. Despite of sunny weather the autumn was obvious in the air. And then - winter. Yuuri's beloved, endlessly mystical winter... General set on the floor in the shadow of the barrier. He didn't even raise his head although metal stairs made enough noise to let him know someone was here. Silver locks covered his eyes but he didn't take them away. From the distance Yuuri seemed Victor bit his lip but he couldn't say for sure without lenses or glasses. - Sir... Are U Ok?... [Just great, Private Katsuki. U've just asked the cleverest and the most helpful question... Now go and jump from this fucking roof until U made it even worse.] Snow King obviously shivered instead of the answer. For a second tense body almost curled into a ball making a visible effort. And raised his head. With rather usual, maybe just a bit tired expression: - Sorry, Yuuri. I made U worry. Get closer. He tapped the floor near. So normal voice. But... Pressure was everywhere. In his voice, his features desperately forcing out healthy expression, in the air around... - Aye, sir... - Kaiyo didn't recognize own voice - hoarse and lost. Several meters felt like an eternity with a stupid wish to rush to his General and... And what?.. [As if he needs anything from mere soldier...] - Yuuri... Do U have cigarettes with U? Seems like I accidentally ran out of mine. - Head tilted to the side and a puppet smile. How much efforts are U spending right now, General? What for?... And what's even more important - what will happen to U when your ability to suppress your feelings reaches it's limit?.. Boy from Safe Zone set on the floor in front of Snow King. To see his face. - Yes. Here, sir. Stupid... Victor always insisted on calling him by name or code name instead of all official bullshit... But now he didn't even notice it. Old ashtray near was already full of cigarette stubs. How fast... Did he finish every of them in one breath?.. For a half of the year here Yuuri rarely saw commander smoking. Only on tasks. And sometimes when he was stressed with something. - Coffee? - Victor spoke almost joyfully but his painful efforts to do it were too obvious. - Smells nice. And it suits U... Not like Yuuri really became interested in tabaco. He just bought these coffee-flavored cigarettes in case if he'll be lucky to join his General in his rare pensive smoking on the wall or balcony. Sometimes he really was. But least of all he wanted something like this... Snow King clicked the lighter a couple of times but it refused to work properly. His fingers shivered. - I'm sloppy... - muttered Victor forcing a one-sided grin. Both Yuuri's hands covered white, icy-cold fingers. Helping at the very least to click the lighter. - Coffee... Yes, it suits U. Your hair are of it's color. And milky-white skin. And eyes of black coffee with drops of honey. U look tasty, U know. - He dropped head to the wall. Trying hard to pretend nothing happened. Yuuri still held onto cold hand covered with mitten. Mitten?... Why? It's warm here, and they're not on task... Absent-minded Yuuri moved a fringe of mitten. Fresh bruise from bite. And of course teeth weren't Makachin's. Or pet's at all. Heart leaped. Snow King didn't even tossed back from him. Just lowed a head avoiding boy's gaze. His emotional stamina had it's limits too... The first Yuuri's wish was to cut own heart out of rib cage and lay into this palm. Just to show finally all he felt. Or bite or cut own hand - to share the pain. But... It will only trouble his General more... He almost plopped on Victor's knees reaching his face with both hands: - Had she hurt U ever? Snow King didn't raise his head. Icy-blue eyes were closed. He inhaled to say something but just shivered and shut lips tightly again. - Then... Yes... - Yuuri frowned still cupping his face - General, sir... Order me whatever U need. If U want me to kill somebody or jump from here to kill myself - just let me know. I'll do whatever U order. I'm yours. I belong to U. My heart, my life, my body... It all is yours. That's what I'm living for - only for U in every meaning. He jumped up leaving completely shocked Victor to realize what was said. - I'm sorry sir. I'll be right back. And before Snow King was able to say something Yuuri jumped from the stairs - to return to the the living area. Beautiful blond women nervously nocked a heel over the floor. Years passed but he did the same again - he ran away. Little traitor. Not so little already. But nothing of this matters anymore. If only she knew the world will be changed this much... She'd never... But for now he is the only man who can pay bills. There's no much choice... She sigh and took out mirror. No. It's a bad idea - to cry now. Make-up will be ruined. But... That fat guy who let her in was out for too long already. And he still haven't brought her son here! Why?! Where are they?! She threw the mirror to the bag and sobbed pressing a hand to the mouth (lipstick is permanent anyway). If he won't be here soon... Why are U always like this, Vitya??? How can't U understand it's a big premier of a new movie in the Safe Zone. New outfit is needed!!! It must be luxury. And new. Eitherway there's no hope to drag an attention of a decent man from all that 20-years sluts... She sobbed again. Vitya... Why are U always trying to ruin my life?.. Steps from the corridor. Young, fast steps. Finally! Good that she didn't wipe tears away. He must see what he did to her! - Where were U?! U like to see me suffe... - she turned around. And chocked with a gasp. It wasn't her son. It was a dark-haired foreigner. And he was. Beautiful. Her friendly and a bit sad (her ultimate weapon) smile was met with a weird, hard to read expression. - I am Katsuki Yuuri. The Private Guard of General Nikiforov. - Boy's voice was blank, almost mechanic. - My duty is to protect General. From everything and everyone. Whatever it takes. She didn't even notice when exactly he took out the gun... Death stared from black round gate. Right in her face. Is it joke???!!! He pressed the trigger. Scream frosted in her throat. Move of of his finger on black metal crescent occasionally seemed slow... Click. And. Nothing. There was no cartridge in the gun. - Bang... - said the boy staring in her eyes with black insane abyss. And bursted into laughter. He laughed and laughed falling on his knees on the floor. Her reaction was surprisingly logical. Without a sound she shrugged shoes away and stormed out of the hall... Familiar steps behind. Private Katsuki turned his head still laughing. Or sobbing. He couldn't say for sure. Snow King was on the distance of a step from him. Splinters of northern sky... Yuuri gazed his beautiful face scared to take eyes off of him. He'd be punished. At the very least - fired for attacking a citizen. Or even sentenced to death penalty if General would call for a tribunal. And it'll be right of course. But now... He still can watch this beautiful man. To keep him in memory until death. Snow King made another step closer. Fell on his knees near and locked Yuuri into a tight embrace. - Sir?... - Boy's voice was so weak and unsure it even made him annoyed by himself. Icy-cold (as always when Victor was worried) fingers laid on the back of his neck pressing his head to commander's shoulder. Another hand stroke his back. Why?... - How much have U seen, sir?... - Everything. - Victor's whisper was husky and shaking a bit. But strong arms only hugged Yuuri tighter: -What's with this "sir"? Didn't I tell U?... Name. Or code name... Realization took some painfully long seconds. Yuuri leaned in, desperately returning the hug, felt how Snow King buried his face into his neck and wasn't able to hold back tears anymore. [I'm sorry, General. It's U who has a right to cry now. Not me. It's my duty to wipe your tears away...] After some time of lulling each other, Victor silently got up not letting Yuuri go, took him on arms and moved to the second floor. To his bedroom. All the way there boy from Safe Zone kept leaning to him locking arms on his neck. Forgot to be ashamed of something completely. Victor pushed the door to be locked automatically behind them and carefully put Yuuri on the bed. But his Private Guard simply didn't ease the grip on his neck. And pulled General to the bed too. Into tight mutual hug. His hands were still cold... And he didn't open eyes, leaning to Kaiyo's shoulder. Stress is exhausting. It alway sounds weird for civilians but being used to live a step from death doesn't mean being immune from daily emotional pain. Absolutely opposite. It feels even worse. And what can martial do being hurt by citizen? To fight [helpless?] civilian is a dishonor. All U can do is to swallow your pain and return to your duty of protecting them. Weakest ones have a tendency to be the most cruel. Yuuri traced fingers through silver locks. How could anyone feel anything but love to this man?... [If only I could take away your pain. I'd bear it as a reward as long as my suffering means U don't feel it anymore.] *************************** Nock to the door. Or rather to say - kick. Yuuri shivered instinctively pressing Victor tighter. How long did they stayed like this? Shoulder felt numb already. - Hey, U two, get the fuck out. - Yurio desperately tried to sound angry. (As a decent cat.) - Dinner is ready. And - he inappropriately giggled - Yashka got a black eye. - What?! - in Victor's voice splashed obvious curiosity. He fixed Yuuri's clothes, while boy rubbed his eyes, and brushed his messy hair with fingers. Joyful and full of life again. Whom are U lying to, Snow King?... Angry Kitty made an irritated sound looking at them both, but said nothing. And only near the dining room Yuuri realized they walked intertwining fingers all the way. Kitchen was united with the exact dining area. Their base located in old building because of it's decently thick walls. It's vintage, luxury but already aged furnishings and stupidly red carpet everywhere made all the base look a kind of grotesque. Snow King often laughed they're just a team of ghosts who forgot own death. Well... It looked very close to this theory. But ghosts or not, Beka's cooking smelled too good to think about anything else. - Miso soup. - announced Werewolf. - We thought about katsudon but rice will be brought only in the end of the week. Japanese meal? Why?.. Heavy smack on the back thrown Yuuri right on the chair. Their Kitty always expressed his fondness rather aggressive way. - Good job, piglet! - Yurio grinned, obviously preparing one more physical sign of acceptance, but Kaiyo prudently pulled out a chair, making him to join them on the table instead. - To pretend being a psycho was a good idea. - I thought I'd be at the very least fired... - muttered Yuuri. Shere Khan just frowned: - Forget it. Rules are there. - he waved to the entrance. - Behind the door. - That's EXACTLY why noone wants to join U, although your team is the most effective one ever! - grumpy, cracked voice interrupted Katsuki's efforts to synchronize with local daily insanity. Old officer raised on his elbows from the sofa he was laying on. Black eye covered with thick lay of ointment, heater on the back of his waist, a cup of herbal tea... Seems like their local shaman a.k.a. lieutenant Altyin spend lots of efforts to fix Yakov's condition... Just because old teacher swore he'd rather die then let "that crazy paparazzi" see him like that. Of course he meant doctor Chulanont. - Oh! Kicked old fart woke up! - gladly shouted Yurio swinging on his chair. - What did U said, little shit??!!! As always... Honestly Yuuri almost got used to these atmosphere. And to the fact it all never means any bad attitude... Snow King tapped Yakov's shoulder in sympathy and set on the sofa's armrest right behind his head: - How did it happen? Did she pushed U from stairs or what?... General Feltsman frowned rubbing his neck: - It wasn't that SHE U're asking about... WHAT?????!!!!!! Even Victor's silver hair expressed curiousity. Even without any word... Yakov sipped tea with an unreadable look - mix of offense and inopportune pride: - It was Lilka. Old witch, my ass... - What for???!!!!! - in several voices - Well... Because of HER obviously. - he glanced at Snow King as if it was him, not Yakov who let Miss (still Miss, yes) Nikiforova in here. - I've just returned to admit I still didn't find U. - he glanced at Victor again. - But when I opened the door she stormed out with her shoes in hands, bumped into Lilka, spilled out something idiotic like " Keep him to yourself!" And ran the fuck out. I tried to catch her to tell transport to the city will be in some hours. But then Lilya fucking grabbed me on the collar... He sigh. Lilichka got this nickname from Snow King, who watched her and Yakov for years, not for nothing... Reference to muse and abuser of doubtful poet of passed times suited her perfectly. - I tried to explain her that woman spoke about her son... - continued to whine Yakov - But she just punched me... Еще и кобелиной обозвала... В нашем-то возрасте.../ And on the top of that called me faggot. In our age... Kitty just fell down with his chair in hysteric. Unsuccessfully suppressing burst of laughter Beka crawled under the table (why didn't just bypass it?..) and helped Yurio to get up. Hiccuping from laughter Angry Kitty quietly translated it to Yuuri. [Ok, Katsuki Yuuri, U're not the only inadequate one here...] Victor didn't even laugh too much. He compassionately laid a hand on Yakov's shoulder, said something unclear like: "Get better soon" and joined them at the table. Old officer turned to the other side - to have a nap again and muttered almost happily: - Ревнует все-таки, коза старая./ She's jealous, that old chick. ...This time Victor translated it to perplexed Yuuri. And Beka tried to silent Kitty with a hug... And after some minutes Special Military network was enriched with some pics of General Feltsman's black eye with tags #lilichkamarkedherman, #theystillloveeachother. Uploaded by Victor Nikiforov. Of course the first one to like and reblog was dr.Chulanont...
2 notes · View notes