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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

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Something in the woods is stealing peoples’ Souls;

Merlin learns the hard way that he's a little more... fragmented, than normal people when he tries to solve the issue himself.

Part 2 (final part)

All of the Physicians in the town are being overrun.

Bodies keep showing up, still breathing, still perfectly functional, all seemingly unharmed... but they won’t wake up.

None of them will even twitch, as if, whilst the physical bodies were in perfect condition, there was something lacking somewhere, stopping any sort of higher brain function.

The King, his Knights, and even the Court Physician and his (newly titled) Co-Worker (as opposed to Apprentice), were baffled.

Medically, they had nothing to go on, all they could do was keep the bodies alive as best they could, and hope that some sort of solution could come about after some good old fashioned detective work.

Thankfully, it only took five days, and twelve comatose patients, for The King’s best Knights to realise that all of the... victims(?) had been found in a specific area of the woods just outside the city limits.

With such a distinct, and unexplainable issue, it was assumed (rightfully) that magic was involved somehow; whether it be some sort of creature, or yet another evil sorcerer hell-bent on revenge.

Which of course led to Merlin, one of the Court Physicians, and also (Secretly)TheMostPowerfulWarlockEver™, putting on his warmest clothes and sneaking out in the dead of night under the worried gaze of Gaius.

He did not come back.

Not that anyone but Gaius knew.

Early the next morning, King Arthur gathered his best Knights, Sirs Leon, Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan, to go and hunt down whatever it was that was rendering his people permanently unconscious.

Gaius and Merlin had explained the previous day, when these plans were conceived, that Merlin would have to stay behind; Camelot’s Physicians were so overwhelmed with not only normal patients, but now twelve comatose bodies as well; they needed every pair of hands they could get. For once, Arthur was happy to leave his manservant behind.

The man cared greatly for his people, and whilst he would love nothing more than to have Merlin at his side all day, every day, he knew that he was safer, and more needed, in the city.

It was meant to just be in case Merlin got injured and had to hide it, but Gaius did well to hide his worry when he waved them off, and didn’t mention that Merlin wasn’t even in the city, that they could be finding Merlin’s comatose body next.

It took the Gang barely half a day to get there, and they had supplies to last them a few days in the woods, if that’s what it came to, but they were all still tense.

They hadn't seen anything like this before. They had no idea what they were up against; there were no physical injuries to assess, no eye-witness accounts, nothing found in their blood or on their person. Just unconscious bodies that showed no sign of waking.

Thankfully, they found no more bodies as they methodically searched the forest, but they also found no sign of what was wrong.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary: nothing attacked them, there was no blood, no destroyed areas, not even a scrap of evidence that something had even happened.

They finally stopped to make camp at sundown, dejected. Their mood definitely worsening with Elyan’s terrible cooking.

Gwaine was, of course, the most talkative:

“I know he’s needed or whatever, but are we sure we can’t go back and get Merlin? I’ve eaten a lot of gross shit over the years, but I’m not sure if I can take this for four more days.”

Elyan grumbles in embarrassment as the others snort, amused, and he throws a twig at Gwaine. It snaps in two across the knight’s face with a satisfying crack.

Arthur ignores the childish behaviour (something he can’t believe he has to do in the first place), shaking his head as he replies:

“No. The health of the people comes before your stomach. If Gaius says he’s needed in the city, then he stays in the city. Though I was surprised that he wasn’t there to wave us off.”

Gwaine smirks knowingly, and Percival puts a warning hand on his shoulder, but it does nothing to deter the knight as he waggles his eyebrows at The King.

Arthur flushes slightly, but he covers it quickly, not having time to retort before Gwaine opens his mouth again:

“Missing him, are you? Perhaps next time you should request that he stand on the battlements in a dress, and wave a handkerchief at us as we heroically ride out?”

Arthur throws a much larger twig (it’s more of a branch, really) in Gwaine’s direction, and this one knocks him off his seat, but before anyone can even snigger at him, Arthur loudly announces the watches and tells everyone to get some sleep.

The next day went much the same.

That is, until late-afternoon.

The Knights were continuing their methodical search of the woods, once again finding themselves somehow tense and bored, when they came across a clearing that had clearly seen a gruesome battle.

Trees were uprooted, the ground was covered in deep holes and scorches, and there were even the occasional splashes of blood.

Which honestly raised more questions that it answered.

After thorough searching, they were hopeful. It looked like it had been some sort of fight between a sorcerer, and something... not human, some sort of creature. BUT, going by the tracks, the sorcerer had survived, and wandered off.

Was the sorcerer injured, or was the creature injured? If the sorcerer had walked off, injured or otherwise, where was the creature? Surely they should find the body of one or the other?

Another question that no one really wanted to ask: was this even related to the bodies?? Or had the Knights just stumbled onto something completely unrelated that they would inevitably get dragged into dealing with anyway?

Either way, they couldn’t ignore it, and with new-found motivation, they followed the tracks deeper into the woods, instead of setting up camp, like they had intended.

Whoever it was seemed to be wandering aimlessly. The blood trail slowly came to a stop, and it seemed that every step was stronger; as if whoever it were was gaining more energy from walking, as opposed to becoming more tired.

Still, whoever they found at the end of the tracks would be able to provide some sort of answer.

Eventually, after around two hours of diligently following the footsteps through the woods, Arthur signalled everyone to stop.

He wordlessly dismounts his horse, and gestures everyone to quietly do the same, before silently pointing ahead.

The knights look carefully to where he gestures, to see a man stood in the centre of a clearing, facing away from them.

They, still silent, draw their swords and sneak closer, but the man doesn’t move, doesn’t even twitch, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was stood upright, they would think him dead.

Arthur steps into the clearing, about twenty feet from the man, and furrows his brow. That looks like.... no... it can’t be, can it? He shakes the thoughts from his head, convinced that he’s just imagining things, but before he can make his presence known, the man turns around, as if he sensed them stood there.

All of them gasp and take a step back, immediately recognising Merlin.

But he’s... different.

He stands scarily still, unusual for a man who was constantly fidgeting or on the move.

His face is blank, and if he hadn’t been staring straight at them they would think he hadn’t noticed them at all, and whilst he stood as if uninjured, his tunic is ripped and blood-soaked.

But what draws everyone’s attention, was the bright golden glow of his eyes, highlighted especially by the quickly descending darkness of the evening.

Arthur brings his sword up slowly, taking a cautious step forward as he calls Merlin’s name.

Merlin simply tilts his head slightly, otherwise staying still, before stutteringly beginning to speak:

“Mer... lin... Merlin....... Merlin is... Merlin is...... Merlin is gone.”

It’s clear that something is deeply wrong with the manservant, but the way he spoke, as if he knew how but had never actually done it before, like he was still figuring it out, creeped the hell out of everyone.

His words as well, “Merlin is gone” do nothing but fill them with dread.

Lancelot steps forward quickly, moving to stand in front of Arthur, sword unsheathed but pointing at the ground. He was unsurprisingly less fearful of the golden irises, and recovered the quickest:

“What do you mean, “Merlin is gone”, gone where? Who are you?”

Merlin... or... not!Merlin, tilts his head further:

“Merlin is... gone. I... I... I want him... back.”

Lancelot gulps but before he can reply, Arthur breaks out of his stupor, and growls:

“What have you done with him?! Whatever you are, give him back!”

Merlin moves his gaze from Lancelot to Arthur, and takes a step forward, before bowing his head slightly, as if out of respect:

“You are... The Once and Future King... I want him back... you... you... you need him... back.”

The rest of the knights are fully freaked out now, but they hide it well, and gather slowly around Arthur. Lancelot scowls at them, holding a placating hand out. He really doesn’t want any of them to get jumpy and skewer Merlin. He takes another step towards the golden-eyed man:

“We all want Merlin back. The bodies, the same thing happened to you? Happened to Merlin?”

Not!Merlin nods slowly once again, looking back to Lancelot:

“It... took him... from me. I... I... I want him back.”

Lancelot returns his nod, letting out a deep breath:

“And who are you? What are you doing in Merlin’s body?”

Not!Merlin frowns slightly, as if confused, the first actual expression he’s pulled this whole time. It takes him a few moments to respond, and Lancelot is getting desperate; he can feel the knights behind him getting more and more jumpy, especially Arthur:

“I am... I... I have always been here... I am... I am... I am me. I am Merlin’s... and he is... mine... I want him... back. He is... mine.”

Lancelot tenses slightly. He has a feeling he knows what’s going on. Merlin talks about his magic sometimes, talks about it as if it’s... sentient. Described the way it’s always desperate to reach out to Arthur and the Knights and Gaius and Gwen, how it sometimes does things without his permission.

Lancelot gulps. This is bad. Merlin’s magic is walking around in his body without him there to control it. They were going to struggle to explain this away, as much as Merlin claimed Arthur was an idiot, it wasn’t completely true. Lancelot bit his lip, glancing back at the others as he re-sheaths his sword.

He knows there’s no way to get them to relax... unless... this might backfire terribly, but it also might be the only way to get them to calm down a little.

Lancelot frowns thoughtfully, and just before Arthur works up the nerve to say something else, he turns back to Not!Merlin:

“Do you mean us any harm?”

Not!Merlin once again tilts his head and frowns as if in confusion:

“No... Merlin is... Merlin is fond of... you. I.. I was made for... for The Once and Future King. I am... unable to hurt him.”

Lancelot nods, before saying slowly:

“Do you have any reason to lie to us?

The golden-eyed man shakes his head slowly, the glow seeming brighter as he replies:

“Why would I... I... lie? I could kill... you without a... second... second thought. I want Merlin... back.”

The knight nods one final time, looking back to the others to gauge their reactions. Their swords are still unsheathed, but lowered, their faces tense and concerned, but not angry. Lancelot supposes that’s the best he’s going to get at this point.

He lets out a rough sigh, running a hand through his hair as he looks back at the Warlock:

“You’re not Merlin. What do we call you, until we can get him back?”

Not!Merlin lets his gaze wonder to the knights, before finally landing on Arthur. His speech had been getting better with use, but he speaks slowly and keeps his stare on The King, as if curious to his reaction:

“I am... I am... I am part of him. I don’t... have a name. Call me... me... Emrys.”

Lancelot grits his teeth, and his eyes whip to Arthur, to see if he recognises the name.

With The King’s gasp, and widening eyes, Lancelot knows that he does recognise the name.

“You... you’re Emrys?? I thought Emrys was some all-powerful sorcerer, what are you doing in Merlin?”

Arthur is too distracted to notice Lancelot’s panic, but Leon, ever the observant one, is not, and frowns at the sudden fear on his fellow knight’s face.

Mer-... Emrys had already admitted that he wouldn’t lie, if Arthur keeps asking questions, he’ll figure it out. But before Lancelot can think of a solution, Emrys replies:

“Emrys is... is... our other... name. But I am not... Merlin. Not on my own. I want... want him back.”

Arthur looks taken aback, but before he can ask another question, Gwaine steps forward, giving Lancelot an unreadable look before:

“Right, well that’s all fine and dandy, but we need to set camp up and figure out what we’re going to do about... this.”

He gestures vaguely to Merlin’s body after sheathing his sword.

Arthur looks about ready to argue, but with another pointed look from Gwaine, Lancelot jumps into action:

“Gwaine’s right, we need to gather the horses and set up for the night. Here is probably alright, then we can come up with a plan to get Merlin back, and presumably, all of those other people.-”

He turns to Arthur, a sufficiently subservient expression on his face:

“-If you think that’s best, Sire?”

Gwaine rolls his eyes and scoffs at that, heading back to gather the horses from where they’d been left without further prompting. Arthur’s argumentative expression drops after a moment, and with one more mistrustful glance to Emrys, he nods, instructing the others to gather wood and get started on dinner.

Lancelot lets out a breath, but flushes slightly and tenses his jaw when he sees Leon giving him an inscrutable look. He turns away after a moment, under the pretence of helping Gwaine.

The moment Lancelot reaches Gwaine, a few metres into the treeline, the other knight quickly turns around and grabs his shoulders. He glances desperately back towards the clearing, and when he establishes that they’re the only two within earshot, roughly whispers:

“Please tell me you figured it out?? Because I’m not sure how the hell I’m going to keep Arthur from finding out on my own.”

Lancelot’s eyes widen, but his shock keeps him silent for only a few moments before Gwaine shakes his shoulders. He blinks away his surprise, whispering his response:

“You know?? Does Merlin know that you know?”

Gwaine shakes his head, finally letting go of Lance’s shoulders:

“No. I worked it out like twenty seconds ago, I’m sort of hoping that Arthur isn’t as quick as me. How long have you known?”

The other knight nods his head understandingly:

“About as long as I’ve known him, but I’ll explain later. This whole thing is... terrible. I don’t think our odds are good. Mer- Emrys won’t lie, and we won’t be able to stop Arthur from asking questions. He’s probably asking them now. We need to get the horses and get back.”

Gwaine nods roughly, and without another word, the two of them gather the reins of their six horses, and quickly make their way back to the clearing.

They had only been gone a few minutes, and in that time, firewood had been gathered and arranged. Elyan pulls a flint out of his pocket, and Lancelot widens his eyes as he sees Emrys tilt his head (still stood in the same place), moments before waving his hand casually.

The wood bursts into a roaring flame, and Emrys suddenly has four swords on him. Lancelot and Gwaine rush forward, standing in between Emrys and the other knights, holding their hands out as if in surrender. Gwaine speaks first:

“Hey! You might be freaked out by all of this, but that’s still Merlin’s body, and he needs it, so lets not poke holes in him, alright??”

Everyone bar Arthur lowers their swords, but before Gwaine can growl something out, Lancelot turns back to Emrys:

“Look, they’re all a little... unnerved, by magic, so maybe stop using it for now, yeah?”

Emrys tilts his head and furrows his brows again, and everyone stares at him in shock as he replies, not quite knowing what to make of his response:

“But I am magic. I am magic... incarnate. If I stop... I... I cease to exist. And Merlin... Merlin needs me. He needs me like... like... like humans need to breath. I can not just... stop. He would... would... we would die.”

Lancelot tightly shuts his eyes. There is officially NO way to explain this one away. Gods, Merlin is going to be so scared when he finds out.

After a few moments of shocked silence, Arthur finally squeaks out a:

“What??”

Gwaine quickly responds, before Emrys can reveal anymore:

“No. It's cruel to take Merlin’s secrets from him when he isn’t even here. We find Merlin, then you can ask your questions.-”

Arthur looks angry, like he wants to argue, but Gwaine takes a threatening step towards him, resting his hand on his sword at his hip as Lancelot and the other knights look on the scene with panic in their eyes. Gwaine growls out:

“-I said no, Princess. Everyone here knows I’m more loyal to Merlin than you, and that doesn’t stop just because he’s not here and you’re about to throw a temper tantrum.”

Arthur huffs, but lowers his sword as Gwaine glares at him, and Lancelot lets out a breath. The other knights follows The King’s lead, sheathing their swords and settling tensely around the fire.

Lancelot goes back to the horses, tying them down and removing saddlebags, with Leon’s help (and constant stare, which was an odd mix of concern and suspicion).

Gwaine points Emrys to a spot on the floor, and tells him to sit. The knight settles next to him protectively, his sword across his lap as he glares at Arthur on the other side of the fire.

The evening passes awkwardly, food being cooked and eaten in silence, no one quite sure what to say.

Arthur spends the whole time with a pinched look of frustration on his face, but the knights look to him as he takes a deep breath, his expression morphing into an odd mix of concern and accusation in the blink of an eye:

“How do we even know that the... Merlin, part of... part of you is alive? What happened to hi- to you? How do we get him back?”

Lancelot wants to be annoyed at his tone, but he poses valid questions. They still had no idea what actually happened or why or how they fixed it.

Emrys tilts his head, aiming his golden stare at Arthur:

“It is one of... of the Manducan, or The Eating Ones. They... are very rare, they steal... steal souls. Bodies can survive a short while.... a short while without them. Hence your... comatose patients. I am... we are, a little more... fragmented... than most. I contain too... too much power, so The Manducan took... only the human... human part.”

Everyone looks extremely worried at that, but Arthur’s face turns desperate as he rushes out:

“What do you mean, human?? What are you??”

They all stare at the raven-haired man as he speaks, his eyes focused on the King:

“We do not... know. Some call us a Lord, or a King. Others call us... call us... a God. In moments... of power, we... we hear prayers. It can be... disconcerting.”

The camp is silent for a while after that, everyone processing what had been said. Merlin heard people praying to him... not even Lancelot knew that, Merlin had never told him.

After around half a candle-mark, Leon breaks the silence to ask the questions that had been pushed to that back of their minds:

“How do we kill this creature, and what happens if we do? Can we get the souls back, undamaged?”

Emrys turns his golden gaze to the curly-haired knight as he replies:

“It is already... weakened. The Forever King needs to... strike... strike it with Excalibur. They hibernate for.... for centuries... and only return to this plane of existence to... collect food. If you... if you... if you kill it before it leaves, the souls will... will return...naturally.”

The knights all let out breaths of relief, but Arthur looks at his sword oddly, before muttering:

“What’s so special about my sword? And why do you keep calling me strange titles?”

Lancelot gulps, and Emrys tilts his head:

“You know of Emrys, but not of the... the prophecies?”

Arthur nods his head slowly, but Lancelot interrupts before Emrys can start the complicated process of explaining his and Arthur’s destinies:

“Perhaps that’s a... story, for when we have Merlin back in one piece. How do we track the creature?”

Arthur gives him a glare, before lowly saying:

“Do not think I do not notice you avoiding the subject, Sir Lancelot. You know of these prophecies?”

Lancelot grits his teeth, but gives a slow nod:

“Bits and pieces. Merlin isn’t fond of talking about it.-”

He raises a challenging eyebrow, still staring Arthur in the face, and everyone is take aback. Lancelot was never anything but respectful and polite to his King; this defiant look shocked them all:

“-You see, he’s spent his entire life in Camelot absolutely terrified that someone will overhear him, and have him burnt.”

Arthur took in a deep breath, hiding his guilt behind a blank façade, but before anyone can say anything, their gazes are drawn back to Emrys, who looks almost... mournful?

He nods his head slightly, and the sad look on his... on Merlin’s face, looks so out of place for someone so normally upbeat:

“He is... we, are constantly frightened. It is exhausting. I try to... to reassure us but... Merlin is... is... is always so scared, despite our power. We used to... to love flames, fire. Now it is... terrifying to us.”

Lancelot had kept his gaze on Arthur, and when The King looks back at him, his despair badly hidden, the knight simply shrugs one shoulder and nods slightly.

Arthur lets out a breath, and looks to his lap, whispering so quietly that the group barely hears him:

“He’s scared of... of me.”

Gwaine growls out an “Of course he is, you’re a Pen-.”, but he’s interrupted by Emrys:

“No. He would allow you to... to kill us. But we couldn’t bear to... to lose you.-”

He finishes his statement quietly, and Arthur looks up at him, tears in his eyes:

“-We don’t want to be sent away. Camelot is... is... is frightening. But it is also our... home.”

“I would never send you away. When we get Merlin back, you... you tell him that. Tell him he’s safe with me, with us, and always will be.”

Emrys tilts his head yet again:

“And my people? Will we be an... exception? Will you make us watch you... continue to persecute our people, whom we... we... we should be protecting? Merlin does... does not want to make a... hypocrite out of you.”

The knights look at him expectantly, and he blanches slightly as he looks away. The King gulps, before taking a deep breath and looking back, straightening his spine and looking confident:

“The laws will change. Crimes committed with magic will be judged the same as crimes committed without; it’s about time I faced the cruelties of my father.”

The corner of Emrys’ mouth tilts up briefly as he nods, but says nothing. Gwaine smirks, Leon and Lancelot give The King proud smiles, and Percival and Elyan look taken aback, before they relax into fond smiles of their own.

The evening had passed quickly, and with all of them exhausted, it’s decided that any further discussion on how to track this... Manducan, would happen in the morning.

All of the knights fall asleep quickly, finding the protective golden glow of Emrys’ unsleeping eyes both comforting and unsettling.

They all woke the next morning oddly refreshed, but the relaxed atmosphere didn’t last long when, one by one, the knights noticed Emrys sat unnervingly still, in the exact same spot as last night.

Only the occasional blink and shallow breathing proved that he was in fact alive, and not some sort of incredibly life-like statue.

Food was eaten, and camp broken quickly; the golden eyed not-quite-a-servant staying in his spot the whole time.

Despite Emrys saying that the souls would be fine as long as they got there in time, they were still full of nervous energy, and wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible. Not least of all because they had a lot, and I mean a LOT, of questions for Merlin... or... all of Merlin.

Emrys was pointed to Lancelot’s horse, and once he mounted in front of the knight, everyone looked at him expectantly. He simply tilted his head, and Arthur huffed:

“Well? How do we find this... creature? Can’t you-”

He waves his hand vaguely, and Leon is the only knight able to hide his snort at The King’s impression of magic.

Emrys nods in understanding, and extends his hand in front of him. A thin stream of light, like a glowing string floating in the air, extends from his palm, snaking through the trees.

He nods, this time in the direction of the light, and the knights urge their horses to begin a quick paced journey.

Conversation is sparse, but eventually the question on all of their minds is asked by Percival:

“If you could do that the whole time, track the Manducan I mean, why didn’t you?”

Emrys doesn’t look towards him, but the horses noticeably slow as everyone bunches together, curious about his answer:

“They are of a different... different plane. Magic can harm them but... but... but not kill. I was waiting for The Once and Future King to bring... bring Excalibur.”

Percival nods in understanding, but Leon frowns:

“Well... what about us? Will we not be able to harm it with our swords?”

Everyone copies his frown at that. They’re valid questions, and Arthur is silently grateful that Leon had the tactical mind to think of them:

“No. It will be safer for... for... for you to... wait. I can distract and injure it further until... The Once and Future King can... kill it.”

The knights looks worried at that, but Elyan is the first one to pipe up:

“We’re meant to just stand back and watch? Can’t we set a trap, or help distract it?”

Emrys shakes his head:

“It can not be trapped. Being too close would... would have adverse effects on... on... on your souls.”

Arthur looks back from his position at the head of the group with a frown on his face:

“Well what about my soul? I’m presumably going to have to get close to it in order to stab it?”

Emrys fixes his golden stare on The King, and tilts his head slightly in confusion:

“Your soul was forged through magic, it is marginally... immune. It will take a little... longer for... for... for your soul to react badly.”

Arthur nods, looking back to the front, muttering something about “having a time limit before my soul implodes or whatever. Great.”

Once the knights finish snickering at Arthur, Gwaine asks:

“Wait wait, if Excalibur is the only thing able to kill it, what are you doing out here?”

Emrys tilts his head, looking back to the knights:

“We were... unaware of that at the... the time. We only figured out what... it was, when we fought it.”

Everyone nods, all of them wondering just how many times Merlin had snuck out to take care of something, with none of them knowing about it. The list of questions they had for when Merlin was back in one piece was getting longer and longer, and no part of this conversation was helping the anxiety swirling in Lancelot’s stomach.

After another hour or so of silence, Elyan pipes up:

“I’m surprised no one has asked yet but... what does this thing look like? I know we’re following a trail or whatever, but what are we actually going to find at the end of it?”

“They shift sizes, though they always take... the form of a thick-”

Emrys is interrupted by Arthur pulling his horse to a sudden stop, and pointing through the trees ahead of his, harshly whispering:

“Black shadow??”

Everyone stops behind him and their gazes dart quickly to where Arthur gestures. Through the trees they see a large mass of deep black smoke.

The black tendrils seem to writhe in the air, and the knights can see vague impressions of limbs tipped with impossibly sharp claws darting out occasionally before retreating back into the fog.

The creature looks like evil in semi-corporeal form, and the usually strong-willed warriors take in stuttering breaths at the overwhelming instincts of “Unnatural, run run RUN!” screaming at them with every passing second.

The shadow doesn’t seem to have any front or back; being in a constantly shifting state, sometimes seeming to freeze, sometimes darting through the trees in a blur.

The knights have lost all colour in their faces, and their breath comes shallowly and quickly. Arthur gulps, tightening his grip on his sword as he whispers:

“Horse, or on foot?”

The sound of Emrys’ feet softly thudding on the undergrowth gives The King his answer, and he dismounts his horse slowly, trying to stop the shaking in his hands and legs.

He takes a deep breath as Emrys moves to stand behind him. His voice is shaking and desperate, as if he were a child reaching for help after a nightmare:

“How do I... what do I do, Merlin?”

Emrys tilts his head, but doesn’t say anything of the The King’s mistake:

“You need only get close enough to... deeply slice it. It is fragile in this... this realm. Cover your eyes when you... you do so, the light will be blinding. Do not let it... touch you. I am reluctant to admit that, after what it did to... to... to our soul, I do not know what it will... do to yours.”

Arthur takes another deep breath, and clears his throat slightly as he gives a firm nod. Time to be brave now, for his people, for Merlin.

The King can hear his knights dismount behind him and tie up the horses, ready to jump in and help at a moment’s notice, in spite of... whatever will happen to their souls. None of them are really sure they want to know, so none of them ask for details, and Arthur is unendingly grateful for their silent loyalty and bravery.

Emrys walks forward, past Arthur, and towards the creature. The King gulps before silently slipping off to the side; he doesn’t know how the creature sees (not having a head, or even eyes, as far as he can tell), but Emrys said he would distract it so... splitting up makes the most sense?

The knights can tell the exact moment the creature notices Emrys walking towards it.

The tendrils of shadow seem to writhe even more frantically, and the fog bulges and retreats again, somehow giving the impression of anger, fear.

Emrys plants his feet strongly and raises a hand, summoning vines and roots from the ground with nought but a gesture; Arthur only gives himself a second to be distracted by the sight of Merlin so effortlessly doing magic before focussing back on the creature.

Everyone bar Emrys winces, and covers their ears as the beast lets out an ear piercing screech, moving judderingly towards the Warlock. The trees shake with the noise, and a few of Emrys’ magical attacks disintegrate into the air. He summons more, and snarls in concentration as the beast whips towards him.

Emrys rushes forward to meet the beast, and they clash in a burst of golden light and black shadow, each trying to take over the other. The shadows try to sneak around the Warlock, reaching towards the knights behind him, but they’re quickly halted in their tracks as cracks open in the ground, swallowing the fog before it can do any damage.

The golden light emanating from Emrys pulses brightly, and the creature is pushed back, the edges of its smoke disintegrating slowly into the air. It lets out another high pitched screech, and Arthur takes that as his cue; rushing silently forward, on the opposite side of the creature to Emrys, and swiping down precisely with Excalibur.

The knights see his attack coming, and step even further back, heeding Emrys’ warning and covering their eyes, Arthur doing so with his free hand as he brings the sword down.

Excalibur cuts through the shadow with no resistance; the screech getting impossibly louder as the blade leaves a blindingly golden trail in it’s wake.

Emrys simply stands back to watch, but the pitch of the beast’s screech forces the knights to the floor, eyes tightly shut, and hands clamped over their ears.

Suddenly, the noise stops, and the shadows of the creature seem to disintegrate into nothing as the golden light of the wound takes over. The light recedes in on itself, before exploding outwards and fragmenting into pieces. The bulk of the fragments fly in the direction of Camelot, golden blurs through the trees, but one, the smallest and dullest (due to being only part of a soul, they assume) flies with speed straight towards Emrys.

The knights and their King finally look up, feeling oddly exhausted, to see Emrys take a staggered step back and grimace in pain as the light forces it’s way down his throat.

He falls to the floor, and the knights rush towards him as his muscles spasm and he begins to scream. His eyes are shut tightly and Lancelot quickly lunges forward to grab his wrists as his hands go to yank at his hair.

Everyone gathers around him, Lancelot yelling for them to hold him so he doesn’t hurt himself. They can only hope that Merlin is an exception, and this isn’t happening to the other victims back in Camelot. Lancelot keeps a hold of his wrists, and Arthur discards Excalibur in favour of holding down Merlin’s shoulders, whilst Elyan, Leon, and Gwaine hold down his hips and legs, and Percival wordlessly stands guard.

Merlin’s screaming dies down, and he stops thrashing so much (but stays tense), but the knights don’t let go just yet. He opens his bleary eyes, and whispers, so faintly they barely hear it:

“... Lance?”

The knight lets go of Merlin’s now limp wrists gently, and strokes a hand through the man’s raven hair:

“Yeah, I’m here Merlin. All back in once piece?

Merlin closes his eyes again, and goes fully slack as the others let go of him fully, nodding slowly as he gulps before groaning:

“Yeah, that fucking... hurt.”

Lancelot huffs out a gentle laugh, but before he can reply, Merlin gasps and quickly sits up. When his wide, panicked eyes land on the rest of the knights huddled around him, his breath deepens and he scrambles back frantically, only to run into Arthur, who grabs his shoulders.

Merlin whips his head around and rips himself from The King’s grip, stumbling to his feet and rushing back, away from the knights and into a tree.

His ears are deaf to everyone’s gentle reassurances that he was safe, and his eyes are blind to the hands held up in soft surrender. He sinks to the floor as his breathing gets even more frenzied and tears gather in his eyes, but before he can process that he was safe, the mix of memories triggers a blinding pain behind his eyes.

He gives a pained yelp and shuts his eyes tightly, bringing his hands to grip the sides of his head as he curls up on the floor. Merlin begins to groan again, and Lancelot desperately gestures for everyone to stay back as he kneels by Merlin’s side, pulling his hands away from his head again:

“You’re safe Merlin, no one’s going to hurt you, do you remember? We said that to the bit of you that was left.-”

Merlin doesn’t seem to hear him, but squeezes Lancelot’s hands painfully tight as he continues to groan, arching his spine:

“-Ok, ok, what’s wrong Merlin? Your head? We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong. Is it your... your soul?”

Merlin shakes his head slightly, groaning dying down, but still struggling to draw breath, still gripping Lance’s hands:

“Your magic?”

Another shake of the head has Lancelot beginning to panic a little; none of them have dealt with anything like this before, and he doesn’t know what’s wrong with his friend. He continues to try and comfort Merlin as he struggles to think of what else it could be, when Merlin begins forcing himself to take deep breaths, and stuttering out:

“Mem... memories.”

Lancelot takes a fortifying breath, and the others crowd a little closer, panicking for their friend:

“Memories? Ok, which ones? Memories from the bit of you that was wandering around, or memories from the bit of you that was in the creature?”

Thankfully, Merlin’s pain seems to be dying down slightly. His breath comes easier, but his eyes stay tightly shut and his muscles still spasm periodically as he grinds out:

“Both. Two sets of memories from... from the same time. Hurts. My. Brain.”

Lancelot huffs out another gentle laugh, rubbing his thumbs softly over the back of Merlin’s hands, and the others relax at the sight of Merlin’s pain lessening. Gwaine kneels down next to Lancelot, and quietly announces himself before beginning to run a gentle hand through Merlin’s hair.

This goes on for a few more minutes; the servant’s pain dwindling and his breathing evening out as his mind sorts the two sets of clashing memories and stitches the two pieces of his soul back together, Lancelot and Gwaine not stopping their soft ministrations for even a moment.

He finally relaxes fully, opening his eyes but not moving from his position on the floor as he gazes tiredly up at Arthur’s worried face, over Lancelot’s shoulder. His words comes out timidly, and Arthur has to stop himself flinching at the hint of fear in his voice:

“Did you mean it? Am I... safe?”

Arthur forces a soft smile on his face, hiding his worry, and gives Merlin a firm nod:

“I promise Merlin, you’re safe. None of us will hurt you.-”

Merlin smiles back at him, before nodding, and closing his eyes, drained from the ordeals of the last few days:

“-though you need to make sure your head is on straight at your earliest convenience, I’ll need your help to write that repeal.”

Arthur says it with a weak, teary grin, and Merlin chuckles slightly, nodding softly once more before drifting into a deep sleep, exhausted.

Lancelot mutters that he’s asleep, and the smile drops from Arthur’s face, his brow furrowing in worry as he crouches between his two knights, putting a hand to Merlin’s forehead:

“Will he be alright?”

Lancelot shrugs, biting his lip, and sporting a similar expression to The King as he replies:

“I’ve no clue. His soul was split in two, his magic was pushed to the limit in that fight, and his body didn’t rest at all or eat much for at least a day; he’s probably just exhausted, but we should get him back to Gaius.”

Elyan, Leon, and Percival move back to gather the horses without prompting, and within minutes the gang is racing back towards the city, Merlin’s unconscious form being held protectively in front of Arthur (his excuse being that Lancelot’s horse had already held the extra weight for half a day, and he’s The King, so he can do what he wants).

Thankfully, the creature had been between their camp and the city, so it only takes them around a day to get back. They took few breaks, and ate whilst they rode to save time. Despite not waking up the entire journey, Merlin’s breathing stayed alright, and he occasionally mumbled nonsense to himself, so the knights weren’t panicking too much.

They didn’t stop when night fell, and so finally pulled into the castle courtyard at around midnight. A guard was immediately sent to wake Gaius, and Percival wordlessly took Merlin from Arthur’s horse, only after The King had given him a short nod of approvable.

They got to the Physician’s chambers to see Gaius wide awake and bustling around the room, clearing a cot and gathering various potions and ingredients.

Percival gently set the manservant on the cot, and Gaius firmly demands that they all leave the room to give him space to work, choosing to ignore the fact that he had told them that Merlin was in the city, and that they definitely shouldn’t have come back with his exhausted, unconscious body.

Arthur notes that Gaius doesn’t react at all when Lancelot stays behind, but has to temper his frustration (and jealousy) when the Physician shoots the knight a concerned look when Arthur himself also refuses to leave.

Lancelot sighs, but gives Gaius a reassuring smile:

“It’s fine, Gaius, they all know about Merlin’s magic, he’s safe. We said we’d explain when we got Merlin back in one piece.”

Gaius sends The King a curious look, hiding his concern well before he seems to catch up on what Lancelot said:

“Back in one piece?”

Arthur moves closer as Lancelot nods and begins to speak, content to let the knight explain as long as he got to stand near Merlin:

“He said it was Manducan?-”

Gaius widens his eyes in surprise, but nods, continuing to mix together various herbs as he listens:

“-Apparently, Merlin’s power was too much for it to handle, so it took the non-magical part of his soul. We found Merlin’s body being controlled by his magic. It was... odd. He was still Merlin, you could hear it in the way he spoke, or the words he chose, but it wasn’t... all of him. Just the magic part. He wouldn’t lie to us, and was desperate to get the “Merlin” part of his soul back. Unless we spoke to him he just... sat there, blankly.”

Gaius hums thoughtfully, and he and Lancelot politely pretend not to notice Arthur reaching out to gently grab Merlin’s hand.

Finally, the physician finishes mixing his potion, and gently pours it into Merlin’s mouth, holding his nose shut and massaging his throat so it goes down properly. He sits back on his chair, glancing at Arthur quickly, before looking back to Lancelot:

“The other victims began to wake just under a day ago, so I’m assuming that the creature was... dealt with?-”

At Lancelot’s nod, he continues:

“-Did Merlin wake at all when his soul came together?”

Lancelot nods again, speaking quietly, feeling oddly like he doesn’t want to disturb Arthur softly rubbing his thumb over Merlin’s hand:

“Hmm. Briefly. He screamed for a while, whilst his soul... I don’t know, stitched itself back together? Then he panicked, because he knew his magic had been outed, then he was in pain again. He said having two sets of memories from the same time hurt. Then he was just exhausted, he passed out a few moments after the pain stopped.”

Gaius nods, and Arthur finally looks up, knowing that the explanation was over, and a conversation was about to happen. The Physician speaks:

“Humans are not made for that, it would have been painful for his mind to try to comprehend and organise two separate sets of simultaneous memories.”

Arthur speaks, his voice quiet, but obviously worried:

“Will he be alright? How long until he wakes?”

Gaius looks to him once more, giving The King an assessing gaze. When he spies no anger or deception in Arthur’s face, he relaxes his shoulders slightly, and sighs:

“He will be alright, he just needs rest. Both his body and his soul have been through a great deal, it will take a few days to a week for him to fully recover physically, though I can’t speak for his mental state.”

Arthur looks panicked, and Lancelot worries his lip between his teeth as Arthur asks:

“His mental state??”

Gaius finds himself sighing yet again as he asks:

“How lucid was he, between the bouts of pain?”

Lancelot rushes to answer:

“Very. He understood what I was saying, I think, he asked a question and understood our answer. He just seemed tired.”

Gaius gives the two men an exhausted smile, before softly saying:

“Then I imagine he will be fine. Go and get some rest, I will send for you if anything changes, though it’s unlikely that he’ll wake up at any point in the next two days or so.”

Lancelot nods, and moves towards the door, but Arthur stays put. Gaius raises an eyebrow, but moves forward and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder:

“He will be fine, Sire. And... everything he has done, every lie he has told, has been to keep you safe. He couldn’t bare to lose you.”

Arthur nods absentmindedly, before looking up to the Physician, and whispering:

“I couldn’t bare to lose him either. You... you promise he’ll be alright?”

Gaius nods and smiles, noting with relief the tearful desperation on The King’s face:

“I promise.”

Lancelot smiles fondly from his place stood at the door, but wipes it from his face as Arthur turns towards him. The two men leave out of the room, Gaius’ assessing eyes following them all the way.

The door shuts behind them softly, and Gaius lets out a breath he hadn’t even realised he had been holding, before running a hand gently through Merlin’s hair, and moving to settle in his own cot.

Of all the ways Arthur could find out about Merlin’s magic, out of Merlin’s control, Gaius never saw this coming, and though the pain Merlin felt was regretful, The Physician is grateful, that it went so well.

End of Part 1!!

Part two is already almost finished. It’s much shorter than this, and will be out at some point in the next few days!! Sorry this took so long lads, I’ve been really busy atm.

EDIT: I’ve actually just finished writing part 2!! It’s queued to be published at 12:30PM GMT tomorrow (09/05/21)

EDIT 2.0: PART 2 IS UP!!

Also I couldn’t find any mythical creatures that fit what I wanted, so I straight up just made one up ✌️

Head over to This List to let me know what you want me to work on next! :)

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter three rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peter’s greatest love and Spiderman’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

Peter arrived at the Avengers tower with a little pep in his step. His new neighbor was on his mind and he couldn’t get her off. He knew it was a long shot, after all you’d only had one conversation, but he felt like there was a connection between you. You were awkward, he was awkward. What more does a relationship need?

Tony was quick to notice the change in Peters mood. A dreamy smile crept across his face every now and then while Tony was trying to explain something about his nanotechnology.

“Alright Underoos, whats on your mind? A girl? Boy? That gorgeous Aunt of yours? Oh wait no, that’s what’s on my mind.” Tony smirked, making a blush paint Peters cheeks.

“Nothing sir. Sorry, I’ll pay attention.” Peter answered quickly. Tony scanned Peter up and down skeptically.

“So its a girl. Alright. Who is she?” Tony asked, motioning for Peter to sit down with him.

“This girl moved in across the hall from me about a week ago. I’d see her on the stairs sometimes, or in the lobby. She’s beautiful, Mr. Stark. I mean, really beautiful. And I know girls are a lot more than their appearance, trust me, but I can never look away. It’s like God made a perfect batch of cookie dough, and then made a perfect cookie cutter, and then hand made her just for me. There’s just, there’s something about her. I feel like I’ve always known her, and I don’t even know her yet. She knocked on my door this morning and I nearly had a heart attack when I saw her through the peephole. I played dumb and acted like I didn’t know she lived across the hall.” Peter started to explain. A twinge of embarrassment struck him at the memory of what he said to you.

“Oh God. You said something stupid, didn’t you?” Tony inquired, noticing the look of embarrassment on Peters face as he recalled their conversation. Tony leaned on his hands like a child, this stuff exciting him more than anything.

“I insulted her dead father and called him smelly.” Peter admitted, and Tony laughed.

“But she found it funny and agreed with me.” Peter quickly followed up.

“Wow. Normally I’d say there’s no coming back from that, but she seems like a keeper. So, are you gonna throw on your Spidey suit and take her for a ride around the city? Works with all the ladies.” Tony wiggled eyebrows, but Peter shook his head.

“No. Spider-Man isn’t a party trick or some tactic to pick up girls. Plus, I want her to like me for me. That’s why I invited her over for dinner tonight.” Peter answered. Tony looked down at his hands, not wanting Peter to see how proud he was. He couldn’t let Peter get too cocky.

“That was a test and you passed.” To y quipped. “Alright, spider child, you have my blessing. But no funny business tonight. If I find out I’m gonna have to design nanotech baby clothes, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Peter blushed at the mere thought of what Tony was implying and spent the rest of his time at the tower going over missions to get you off his mind.

You arrived at Peters at 6:07. You were done getting ready at 5:45, and sat in the living room on your phone until you were slightly late. You didn’t want to be early, like some loser. Or even worse, on time. You had to be fashionably, but not rudely, late.

You knocked on Peters door at 6:07 and waited. The door swung open instantly, as if he’d be waiting right behind.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He stated. “I’ll let you decide if I was waiting at the door for you or if I’m just really fast. “

He had successfully broken the ice, and you gave kudos to him for trying.

You, on the other hand, were drawing a blank. You had no idea what to say and you were a reporter for crying out loud. You didn’t get tripped up on my words, but something about Peter Parker and that damn collared shirt rendered you unable to formulate a thought. All you could do was stand there and smile at him. You felt like you were standing weirdly and all the sudden had no idea where to put your hands. Do you leave them at your sides? That felt too stiff and soldier-like. But where else would they go? You were pretty sure every brain cell had left your body at that point, leaving you defenseless.

“You look nice.” Peter blurted, interrupting the awkward silence that had settled between you. Even he seemed surprised by his statement. You looked down and shrugged. You looked as nice as a lazy person who didn’t fully unpack their clothes could look. You had on a casual grey dress that was made of some sort of t-shirt material, and your hair was in a loose bun with a few curls framing your face. Peter took in your appearance with what looked like approval. Then you noticed Peters gaze falling to your feet.

“Converse with a dress.” He noted. “Bold move.”

You felt your personality re-enter your body, finally, and nodded.

“Oh yeah. You know me. Quirky and cool and not like other girls.” You joked as you clicked your heels together. “You look nice too. Very…Freddie Benson.”

Freddie Benson? Who the hell makes an ICarly reference to compliment someone? This night was going downhill fast and you regretted ever knocking on his door.

“Dude. You’re tanking.” Venom said in your ear, you had to agree. This couldn’t be going worse.

But lo and behold, Peters beautiful laugh filled your ears once again.

“That’s what I was going for!” He cheered. “My friend Ned always teases me for wearing sweaters and button downs but he just doesn’t have the vision.”

“Come in.” He suddenly stepped aside and gestured inward. “Dinners almost ready.”

Peters apartment looked just like yours, but much more homey. You saw his baby pictures on the wall, coupled with pictures of him and his parents through the years. You noticed a framed picture of a different couple on the coffee table. They resembled Peter but you didn’t see them in any photos with him past the age of around 7. There was a candle next to the frame, as well as a ceramic cross. You quickly looked away, not wanting to overstep.

“You must be Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you.” You heard a woman’s voice from behind you. You turned around and saw a woman in high pants and a yellow tank top, recognized her from the pictures with Peter.

“I am. It’s very nice to meet you too, Mrs. Parker.” You said politely and shook her hand.

“Please.” She shook your hand. “Call me May.”

“May.” You repeated with a smile.

You turned around and saw Peter pulling out a chair for you, so you sat down while May finished preparing dinner. You offered to help, being the polite ass bitch that you were, but May insisted that you were the guest. A plate of “meatloaf” was soon placed in front of you and Peter. The term “meatloaf” is used very loosely. It looked more like an old shriveled brain. Peter made eye contact with you and winked.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He whispered. He glanced at May, who was busy pouring the drinks, before leaning in closer and whispering, “it’s way worse.”

You playfully kicked Peter under the table and he giggled, quickly masking the sound with a drink of water.

“So, Y/N, where do you go to school?” May started the conversation. You took a bite of meatloaf, nearly died, and swallowed before answering.

“I’m actually taking a gap year before I start my junior year at Berkeley.” You told her. “And I work part time as a reporter.”

“That’s a very good school.” She complimented. “And I thought you looked familiar. I’ve seen your show on YouTube.”

“I haven’t.” Peter realized. “What’s it called?”

“The L/n Report.” You answered. “I started it my freshman year and it just kinda took off.”

“Oh. I’ve read some of yoru articles, but I haven’t seen the show.” Peter realized. “I can’t believe you do that. That’s really cool. You’re really cool.”

“Thank you.” You winked at him, not used to being praised for your work.

“Peter told me about your father.” May changed the subject. “I’m so sorry to hear that he passed. He left the apartment to you?”

“He did.” You nodded. “And it’s all right. We were estranged anyway.”

“It must be so different living alone in a city.” May sighed. “Did you dorm while at Berkeley?”

“No, I lived with my boyfriend.” You shook your head. Peter began choking on his water at the mention of a boyfriend and May shot him a look.

“Peter. Manners.” She said sternly.

“Boyfriend?” Was all he managed to say between coughs and sputters.

Oh great. Time for this conversation.

“Ex-boyfriend.” You corrected. “I got him demoted to traffic duty for two weeks and he wasn’t too happy about it.”

“He broke up with you over that?” Peter raised an eyebrow. “That’s gotta be the dumbest reason for a breakup I’ve ever heard.”

“May I ask how you got him demoted?” May wondered.

“Well, I’m an investigative reporter, and my ex, Andy, is a cop.” You began. “I looked at some classified files on his computer and used them against someone.”

“Carlton Drake, right?” She realized the story sounded familiar. “I read about that. Your exposé about him was everywhere.”

“Didn’t he die in his own rocket?” Peter asked you, fully invested in the story.

“Yea. I was there. Me and…my friend.” You caught yourself before almost mentioning Venom.

“Gosh I read that story forever ago.” May recalled. “It was all over the news here. I remember Peter ranting to me that this girl was straight out of high school and already taking down shady guys in San Francisco. You were obsessed with the article, remember Peter? I’m pretty sure you hung it up.”

Peter, you guessed it, turned bright red.

“I just thought you were cool. You know, taking down bad guys and all at such a young age. It really inspired me.” Peter explained. He suddenly looked panicked, like he said too much, and you wondered what it inspired him to do.

“Thank you Peter.” You smiled fondly. “How old are you anyway?”

“19. I’ll be 20 on August 10th.” He said proudly. “What about you?”

“He’s legal.” Venom whispered in your ear. You couldn’t even be mad at her, you were thinking the same thing.

“I’m 20.” You told him, and smile crept across his face.

“And this boyfriend, where is he now?” May asked. May wasn’t blind to what was happening between her nephew and this new neighbor and knew that’s what Peter was dying to ask.

“I would very much also like to know that.” Peter said, almost robotically. He leaned in closer and stared at you while he awaited the answer.

“He’s engaged, actually.” You said between sips of water, making Peter sigh in relief. “To a friend of mine. They’re getting married this summer.”

It was the first time you said those words out loud. You didn’t feel sad, like you thought you would. You didn’t really know how you felt. The smile that broke out on Peters face gave a clear indication on how he felt, though.

“That’s great. I mean, not great great. Great for him, I mean. It’s always good to move on. Wether it be with an old friend or a brand new one. Maybe it’s with someone you just met. You never know. Things just happen between the most random of people. Could be a stranger. Or, or, hear me out, it could be less of a stranger. Like a barista, or a mailman or a…a neighbor.” Peter stumbled over his words, the last part coming out very quietly. “I’m sorry that things didn’t work out though. Between you and him, I mean. ”

“Thanks.” You shrugged. “It was tough at first but, I’m okay now. He wasn’t the one.”

“When you do find the one, you’ll know. I knew almost immediately that Ben was the one. I saw him and my heart said “that’s the one you’ve been looking for” and I believed it.” May sighed wistfully. You could see her eyes glistening behind her glasses and did something rather bold. You put your hand on top of hers and squeezed. She gave off this loving motherly vibe that you had only seen in movies but never felt for yourself. May gave you the warmest smile and squeezed your hand back.

“That’s lovely May. Although, I always thought when you met the one, your heart wouldn’t say that it’s been looking for that person. I always thought it would say ‘welcome home’, or something like that. You know? Like, you’ve always known them. I don’t know though. Maybe I’ve just seen The Princess Bride one too many times.” You shrugged.

“Ah. That’s a classic in this household.” May recalled. “Peter would refuse to go to bed without watching it.”

“Because it’s a cinematic masterpiece.” Peter sassed. “You’re trying to embarrass me by pointing out that even as a child I had impeccable taste? Oh please.”

You laughed at his remark, making May noticed the smile that broke out on Peters face when he succeeded in making their new neighbor laugh.

May looked at you for a while with a content smile on her face before saying, “Yeah. I suppose you do have good taste.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #peter parker imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

There You Are

PART 2: ‘Finally, You’re Back’

Karl Heisenberg x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mild spoilers for Resident Evil 8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Romance, Mild Angst

Summary: It’s the life before the nightmare. It’s the breath of fresh air before the pollution. The sunshine before the storm. And there they are, standing in the warmth of a sunny spring day in that Romanian village, their meeting coincidental yet fated at the same time.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! I’m sorry for the long wait but here it finally is - you request turned into a fic! Also, big thanks to that other Anon who gave me the idea of modifying the fic in a way where it’s now gonna be a two-parter, a sort of the before the nightmare and the aftermath of Heisenberg’s turning. Regardless, I hope you enjoy the read. Love, Vy ❤

Because one is incapable of expecting the unexpected One can never see what the future may hold One can never know what storms await One can never fully prepare And neither did he Because he could’ve never guessed Never known He could only see so far ahead He could only plan so much Yet he always thought he’d run free Let the winds and rivers guide him forward Never did he think his fate would uproot him into a nightmare He had no idea what to expect He had no idea he’d never be the same again Hell, to him it was the first and last time But to his hope it was a lightning spark Praying for more Regardless, in that moment When eyes met eyes, all he could think was... ‘There you are’

And there they were, standing in the almost completely melted snow on the outskirts of the Romanian village, the shy sun rays shimmering on their skin, making their hair glow. Their gaze gave away nothing yet so much simultaneously. Their crystal, shining yet still tired orbs were busy taking in their surroundings, their back turned to him. They didn’t have to face him for him to be able to guess they weren’t from around here. Truth be told, there were several clues that let him know: the clothes, the shoes, the sun-kissed skin - which there’s no way they could’ve obtained from the gloomy sunless winter in the village- but most important, the dead giveaway was the huge rucksack burdening their back and shoulders.

‘A traveler‘, he thought, ‘They’re probably lost. There’s no way they landed in this shithole on purpose.‘

The contemplation of whether to address them or not ends shortly and not really willingly - it mostly has to do with the fact that his thoughts were momentarily shut up when the traveler’s eyes met his.

Even with the amount of distance between them, something in those E/C pools glinting in the faint sunlight while also reflecting the brightness of the last remaining snow on the ground stole his breath away and paralyzed him. He was rendered helpless and unmoving from simple eye contact with this stranger.

But they weren’t done surprising him with the overwhelming power they unknowingly possessed.

They, out of the blue, shot him a smile that could only be described as blinding. One that sent his heart racing, eyes widening ever so slightly with disbelief. He was rarely offered such a kind reaction upon being seen by someone. A smile - not a mocking or menacing one - was an expression he rarely saw directed towards him.

‘They don’t know you, idiot!‘ He scolds himself mentally, ‘They don’t know what kind of lowlife piece of shit you are.‘

Yeah, they don’t. And they’re never gonna find out

He was willing to pull every lie from the book to keep his miserable life as a nearly homeless, poorly treated worker of three jobs hidden from this stranger. He didn’t want to see pity in those eyes nor sympathy in their smile.

He didn’t want things to change. Though, he simultaneously didn’t know what ‘things’ he didn’t want changed.

And so, he decided to create some, knowing full-well they would be temporary.

“Need any help? You lost or something?“ He calls out to them as he makes his way down from the cliff and into the large field where they’re standing.

They shake their head in response, loose strands of hair forming a curtain over their features as they do so, their smile never fading, “Nope, not at all. I’m exactly where I wanna be.”

“What could you possibly wanna see here?“ He asks, now without having to belch his lungs out due to the smaller distance between them.

They turn away from him, pointing to the monstrosity of a building he’s more than familiar with, towering over the village and dominating the outskirts. Having been abandoned for years now, the factory has become a home for rats, roaches, bats and Karl Heisenberg. The young man runs the risk of having it all crumble atop him while he sleeps the three hours he’s allowed each night. He’s not usually embarrassed by this fact but he doesn’t proudly announce it either. Sure, some people who pick on him and are determined to make his life a living hell have spread rumors about his place of stay but no one dares go into the factory to fact-check. It’s menacing exterior looking to be straight from a horror movie or a nightmare is more than enough to drive any person away, but the haunting noises the place harbors accompanied by the many creatures that produce said noises just add to the fear factor among the villagers when it comes to the century old structure.

“That.“ The traveler says, looking almost dreamily at the building so many people turn to with disgust and fear. “Would it be trespassing to enter? I really wanna have a look inside.“

Forgetting to mask his confused and surprised expression, Karl is caught with that wide-eyed, mouth-slightly-agape look on his face which sends the traveler in a fit of laughter.

“I know I probably sound crazy saying that, but abandoned places are sort of my thing, you know. I can’t simply pass by one without going in and doing a literal scavenger hunt. Not that I ever find much apart from graffiti and crap all over the place, but it’s worth having a look. Especially inside a place that looks that old. And man is it huge.“ No, his assumption was right the first time - their eyes do indeed get dreamy when they turn to observe the giant structure further down the overgrown path.

Who gives him the right to tell them no?

“Lucky I found you then.“ He says, shedding every last bit of confusion and replacing it with enthusiasm, a wide smile plastered on his face, “Follow me, I know all the entrances.“

He needn’t tell them twice. Hell, he barely had to finish his sentence before they literally took flight as they rushed - as much as they could with the heavy backpack they were carrying - towards the factory, taking his hand to drag him along, never stopping their river of gratitude the whole way there.

It awoke something in him, something warm and genuine that made him want to get to know this sunshine in human form better. He hasn’t had a chance to smile plenty in his life, never having a reason to do so. But during this less than five minute interaction, he hasn’t been able to contain the grin brought upon him as a side effect of their own happiness.

“I’m Karl, by the way!“ He informed them as they stomped their way up the path.

“Nice to meet you, Karl!“ They called back, giving him a brief glance over their shoulder, “My name’s Y/N.“

‘Y/N‘ the name echoed and repeated itself in his head, intensifying that feeling dangerously close to adoration.

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N.“

* * *

Dust and dirt had stuck to their clothes, practically merging with the textile by the time the pair left the factory to see the setting sun once again. The darkness and dinginess of the factory periodically made them forget how beautiful the outside world was. The place was filthy but what Y/N didn’t know is that it had been in a worse state before. Before Karl started staying there.

The young man always had a fascination with mechanical engineering, having met many workers who worked in the factory prior to its closing. They often times snuck him in so he could admire the work process the different types of machinery they had in there - many of which still remained in the factory covered in rust and spiderwebs. That being said, he took it upon himself to clean up a bit, treat the powerful mechanical giants with the respect and decency a machine of their kind deserved. Some he even miraculously repaired - probably the biggest achievement in his life - but he was yet to put them to good use, given that he still didn’t know how to properly operate them and what their true purpose was.

“That was incredible!“ Y/N cheered once the two had stepped onto the grass outside in the field again, “I can’t believe I almost started debating whether to go or not after so many of the villagers tried to scare me.“ They turned to give the factory one more lingering look, “Damn, I wish I could go back in there again to see if we missed anything. Unfortunately, my time’s limited.“ They sigh, checking their wristwatch before sparing the setting sun a look as well. “And it’s almost up.“

The knot that suddenly appeared in Karl’s throat made him choke on the oxygen he had inhaled. The worry of what those words of Y/N’s meant made his stomach turn.

But, before he could ask what they meant, they gave him an apologetic smile, their eyes still shining, but saddened now, “I have to get going. I have a different destination I need to reach by dawn.“ They sighed heavily, looking down at their boots. Karl opened his mouth to say something, but he found himself to be at a loss for words. He felt hollow and empty and couldn’t bring himself to stomach what he had been told. However, Y/N once again beat him to the opportunity of saying something. Their head snapped back up, their eyes meeting his, now glimmering with the glow he had grown to think of as familiar at that point. “However, that doesn’t mean I won’t be back.“ They took him by the wrist and brought his hand up, opening his clenched palm to drop a small chain in it. “Growing up, I was taught to not expect people to return things you give them but to go and take them back yourself. And so, Karl, I’m giving you this necklace and promising I’ll be back to retrieve it.“ They closes his palm again, letting his arm fall by his side. While he still had only processed half of all that happened when they spoke up again, “Ok, so now I ask of you to stay here, not see me off, not follow me, just stand right here. Or you can turn around and walk away too, that’d be even better. Can you do that for me?” They asked, cringing suddenly, “Sorry, I’m bad at goodbyes.“

He faintly nodded, unable to get any words out yet again. That was probably a good thing, cause there was a huge risk that he would’ve asked them to stay if he spoke.

Taking his nod as a positive response, they gave him a quick peck on the cheek before turning around and walking off in the direction they came from earlier, leaving him behind. Karl wanted to force himself to walk in the opposite direction like they had told him to, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off them. He stood there, heart aching, watching them go. All the while squeezing the dog tag necklace tightly in his hand. The physical proof of the person that reminded him how it felt to feel.

The physical proof of the promise that they’d come back.

They’d come back to him.

He’d see them.

And he’d once again think to himself...

There you are, finally, you’re back

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punkpresentmic · 3 years

Text

Traitor Aizawa AU Pt. 3 — 1, 2:

Shouta ran away in the middle of the night. When Hizashi woke up, it was to an empty bed, to fists pounding at their shared suite, to UA in lockdown. Hizashi was immediately forced outside & taken in for questioning.

Shouta had left Nezu a resignation letter, in his own unmistakable handwriting. It's blunt, concise, & it contains detailed descriptions & evidence of his betrayal. It makes no excuses for his actions & it does not discuss his motivations.

When Shouta visits that night weeks upon weeks later, he says nothing of the letter & nothing of his motivations. Shouta is silent as Hizashi sobs, dutifully keeping his Quirk erased as asked. It's been a pressure building on Hizashi for far too long, so when the dam breaks, there's no stopping it. It's an unwelcome but necessary catharsis—one he needs because of Shouta, one he can have because of him. Hizashi cries himself to sleep in his husband's arms.

& in the morning, again, he wakes up alone. It could have been a dream, but this time there's a note on his nightstand. It's painfully simple, the script rushed: I'm sorry I couldn't be here when you wake up. I'm sorry it has to be like this. I want to talk with you soon. I love you, Hizashi.

He should report this. Shouta betrayed UA, he's a wanted villain, & he expressed interest in taking Eri. Hizashi should turn in the letter.

Hizashi makes himself a coffee, & he sets the letter in front of him, & he stares at it blankly while the Sun rises slowly outside. The moment the light hits it, it's like the decision has made itself. Hizashi puts the letter through their paper shredder, tucks the pieces into his pocket, buys a muffin at a coffee shop, & throws half of them away in his napkin in one trash can, half of them in another down the road. He doesn’t tell a soul. Not Nemuri. Not Eri. Not Nezu.

He has to see Shouta again.

It’s two weeks before there’s another Shouta sighting. One day Hizashi comes home & senses the difference immediately. &, oddly, it's not a bad different. He knows exactly what it means. So, he takes off his gear in the entryway. Locks the door. Takes a few calming breaths before he calls into the apartment: “Honey, I’m home.”

He steps into the bedroom. Sure enough, Shouta is sitting on the bed.

Hizashi stops. He looks like shit. Exhausted, face sallow like he hasn’t been eating, eyes red & irritated like he hasn’t been using his eye drops. It occurs to Hizashi that his prescription probably ran out. He can remember the last time he picked up a bottle from the pharmacy; he’d teased Shouta about his 'special eyes' that regular eye drops don’t work on. “How did you know I was here.” His voice is rough too. Hizashi wants to offer him water, a meal, something. He hovers in the doorway.

“I’ve felt your absence since you left. Of course I know when it’s changed.”

Shouta says nothing. Hizashi relents slightly, asks him if he’s eaten. As expected, he gets a shake of the head. Hizashi turns on a heel, brings the both of them tea & leftover takeout. Shouta scrunches his eyebrows in confusion when Hizashi hands him what’s always Shouta’s order. Hizashi shrugs, nonchalant as if he didn’t take up ordering it after Shouta left. Shouta opens his mouth to speak, but Hizashi holds up a hand. “Eat.”

& they do, in silence. Shouta is positively ravenous. Hizashi has so many questions. So many questions. But he shares this strange meal with his husband, wordlessly offering Shouta what he doesn’t finish as well. Finally, Shouta clears his throat. “You didn’t tell anybody about me.”

Hizashi doesn’t have it in him to glare—to make any expression, really. It’s all very… heavy. Fragile. Ephemeral. Breakable. Dangerous. Wrong. Hizashi purses his lips. “You’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do.”

He winces. "Hizashi, I wish I could tell you everything, but I can't."

Hizashi swallows the emotions that rise like bile in his throat, a potent mixture of fury & nausea. He has little control of what falls from his mouth. “You know, somebody referred to you as my ex the other day.”

Shouta’s expression is pained. He shakes his head & pulls his wedding ring out from its necklace tucked away as always in his ratty costume. Hizashi almost laughs. When Shouta commits to something, he commits fully, with his whole chest. It’s why so much of this doesn’t make any goddamn sense. It all threatens to choke him, but he laughs around the lump in his throat & shakes his head too, taking Shouta’s hand & squeezing hard to imprint the indent of the ring he put there into his palm. “It’s just not right, man.”

This time, Hizashi takes a page from Shouta’s book & bumps their foreheads together like a cat. Hizashi offers a watery smile. Shouta lets his eyes fall closed, inhales deeply. “I know it was too much to ask in my letter for you to believe that I'm still the person you believe me to be, but…” Hizashi freezes and pulls back, causing him to trail off.

“Shouta… what are you talking about?”

A flash of confusion, then fear crosses Shouta’s face. “The first letter I wrote to you. When I… When I left.” Shouta’s eyes search his for any sign of recognition, clearly troubled when he finds none. “I wrote everyone in my class letters. & Nezu. & Kayama. Hell, even Yagi—do you really think I wouldn’t face you of all—”

“—Shouta. None of those people received letters. Besides Nezu. I read your… resignation letter. Saw the evidence you laid out so logically for him. But I…” Hizashi’s blood suddenly grows cold. “Shou, the police took me down to the station that morning & searched the apartment. I didn’t think they took anything.” His breathing picks up. “They never told me anything about a letter—”

Shouta is barely breathing. Finally, after a long pause he swallows. “Nezu. Nezu must have found his first & arranged for a search & seizure. He would have extrapolated there were more.” He wipes a weary hand down his face, shaking his head. “You never… None of the students…” He covers his eyes, which must be aching. Hizashi has never been hesitant to offer physical reassurance to Shouta Aizawa, but he hesitates here & hates that he does. He pulls Shouta close with an arm over the shoulders.

“It’s alright,” he lies. Shouta knows. “We can talk now.”

So Shouta reiterates what was in the letter: what he’s done, how he loves him, how he wouldn't leave or do this without him if he had a choice, how he intends to return when this is settled, how in the meantime he would trust nobody else to watch over his students & Eri, how he needs Hizashi to trust that he is who Hizashi knows him to be.

“How am I supposed to be certain of that?” Hizashi whispers when he’s done.

It hurts him, Hizashi can see that. But all of this hurts. “I don’t know how to answer that.” They’re still holding hands. “But I want to,” he adds. “I want to prove it to you.”

“I want that too.”

There’s a tension in the air as they hover, faces close, uncertain if it would be okay to kiss each other. They think better of it, pull back with small sighs.

Instead, they discuss Eri. Shouta has been watching from afar when he can safely. He knew how she was struggling with her Quirk. He saw the doctor visits that hadn’t improved anything. He wanted to help. He also knew that he couldn’t sneak into UA forever, that the instant UA caught wind of it security would render it impossible & arrange for his capture. But if she’s with him, he can still help.

Hizashi shakes his head. “Shou, wherever you’ve been, it’s nowhere fit for a child. Your Quirk helps her, but her support network is here at UA. You were part of that network. & now you’re not. She is not leaving UA.”

Shouta shrinks, & after a moment he nods. He was always one to listen to reason. Hizashi, again, has to relent. As far as he can tell, Shouta only wants what’s best for her & it’s killing him not to be able to participate in that. So Hizashi elbows him lightly & pulls up pictures on his phone of all Eri has been up to lately, some of the students also making appearances. He leans Shouta onto his shoulder. It’s a tender moment. Almost normal. But all too soon it has to end. It’s not safe for Shouta to stay the night & there’s a certain window of time he has to catch to slip past security.

Shouta says he’ll return. He squeezes Hizashi’s hand as he goes to the window—the hand with his ring on it. Promises.

(pt. 4)

#isaythings #fic #traitor aizawa au #traitor!aizawa #angst #erasermic #but wait! there’s more! <3 #i will keep talking abt this whether or not any1 asks abt it & that’s a threat fjdjdj #but you’re also welcome to ask abt it 👀👀#in case it 👀👀#inspires smthn 👀👀

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b0rista · 4 years

Note

OH MY GOD! ok i’m crying. can i request bertholdt with a female s/o. she’s in the scouts and it’s the shiganshina battle and mikasa + eren pin her down and she has to helplessly watch bertholdt get eaten. OH MY GOD I GOT THE FEELS. tysm if u do this, idk why i’m in the mood for angst rn.

— majority rules.

where even when she pours her soul within her footsteps, she's just not fast enough.

AN: y'all comin for barista's SOUL HUH ✋ also i am SO sorry this took so long! here u go, love! alsonsnd this is unedited forgive me plLsl.

WARNINGS: extreme angst, death, language.

even at your fastest pace imagineable, you weren’t moving fast enough. your calves ached, and your hands were covered finger to finger in blisters and gashes. despite the pain, you moved, and as quickly as humanely possible. hell, at the rate you were going, not even the best of the best could surpass you in speed. it was the adrenaline, the outright fear, and the premeditated heartbreak that urged you to move faster. at this point, you barely had a choice. despite fighting for the opposing side, you knew where your heart stood. with him.

and by god himself, you were going to save that.

“y/n!” the screams of your comrades acted as nothing but static within your eardrums, gaining not even a hint of your attention as you plunged forward, venturing above the demolished city as you worked toward your one and only goal— before the present, you had the same goal as your friends, your family. win this battle, and take back wall maria. like the others, you just wanted to take back your land. that was all. that was all you wanted.

not this.

“you’re going to do what?” you asked, looming above the steaming carcass of both your friend and ally, armin arlert. well, what you thought was a carcass. somehow, he was alive. alive, and about to ruin your entire life as you know it. him, and the others; your friends. utterly flabbergasted, your knees would tremble, and your pulse would skyrocket.

“you couldn’t have expected us to allow him to live, y/n,” hange would say, her single eye shooting toward the rooftop of which she stood on. her tone was cold, and it practically pierced you, “not after all that he’s done. we haven’t any other choice.”

“any other choice?” you spat, earning your commander’s glare. everyone was staring at you, in both uncertainty and pity. they were fully aware of your relations to the enemy, and yet they knew what was right. they knew what they had to do. and, deep down, so did you. you knew, but you denied the reality of the situation with every fiber of your being. because although you were aware of what was unjust and what wasn’t, love trumped whatever moral highground you had left. and dear god, did you love him. you loved him. you loved him, and they wanted to take him away.

“you have plenty of other choices, godammit!” you shouted, eyes widened in fear. your shoulders trembled, and the grip you had on your blades was deadly. as a precaution, you could see mikasa in the corner, her own swords drawn. by whatever means necessary, she was ready to cut you down. even so, you would be heard. “you’re going to kill him? he’s our friend, he’s our comrade, he’s our bertholdt! dammit, he’s-”

your words would only fall from your lips in a hoarse, cracked sob: “he’s my bertholdt!”

this earned you nothing but silence in return, frightening you further. looking up, you faced the grim sacrifice that either you or the others would have to pay- and unfortunately for you, majority rules.

“it doesn’t matter.”

the words struck you, sending you into a frenzy. eren stood before you with confidence, his gaze plunging into your chest with the utmost ferocity.

“whether you’re able to live with the loss or not, we’re feeding bertholdt to armin.”

now, here you were. with your entire squadron turned against you, you weren’t given any other choice. if anybody was going to save bertholdt, it was going to have to be you. and even if it meant turning against everything you once believed in, you would do it. you had to.

mercilessly, you ran. with every ounce of energy left inside your being, you ran. unconscious, your love lay on a faraway rooftop, swaiting his very own demise without even being remotely aware of it. from a distance, you could see him. he was vacant of all four limbs, the steam from his regeneration process rising from off of his wounds and into the air. as if he were peacefully asleep, his eyes kept shut. and while his were closed, yours were brimming with tears. oh, bertl. what have you done?

desperation was the only thing keeping you moving, and it did so with an utter lack of grace. you sprinted sloppily, and you rid yourself of any sort of technique. you couldn’t think, you could only do. unfortunately for you, doing wasn’t enough. just as you neared the still body of your love, you were pulled back by the ends of your hair, slamming you into the ground. as you smashed downward, the terrifingly large footstops of another being arose from a distance.

“are you in love with me, bertl?”

the question was abrupt, and it wasted no time in taking your boyfriend utterly aback. “what?” he asked, blinking down at you. as quickly as the single word had left his lips, a drop of sweat threatened to trickle down the side of his face. “what do you mean?”

“what do i mean?” you simply repeated, a teasing smile creeping onto your lips. the two of you were sitting beside one another on the edge of your bed, comfortably dressed for bed. had either one of you thought to look out the window, you would be sure that it was passed the middle of the night. still, it was the lighthearted conversation that urged the both of you to stay awake, basking in the presence of the other. the time you spent together was crucial, and you made sure to savor every single moment.

“you speak to me as if you’re in love with me,” you said, moving to rest your head against the boy’s shoulder, “and you touch me as if it’ll always be your last. we may be an item, bertholdt. but the label can’t be all that we have.”

despite how sudden your words may have been, the brunette knew enough to take them into consideration. through the silence that erupted in suite of your mild tangent, he would only contemplate. then, as if he’d finally gathered the courage to let loose, he would sigh. wrapping an arm around you, you would be brought close, where he then buried his nose within the crook of your neck. had you known any better, you would have assumed that he did it to hide his face from your sight.

“yes,” he would say, much to your surprise. “yes, i am in love with you. i always have been, i think.”

your jaw agape, you weren’t exactly sure how to react at first. you hadn’t expected his answer to be so simple, to be so confident. feeling his long, strong arms wrap around you as you were pulled into his chest was heavenly, and with his words poured into the mixture, you wanted to melt. however, because you were clueless, all you could think to do was laugh the matter off, earning you quite the stare.

“now, now, there’s no need to exaggerate. really, you could have just-”

but before you could even finish, a calloused hand would place itself onto the side of your face, moving your gaze so that it would face bertholdt’s gaze. the two of your faces were close, noses nearly touching. with a tender, soulful look, his sage eyes would pour into yours, brows ever so slightly furrowed.

“i love you, y/n. if anything, that’s an understatement. please, never doubt me in that regard.”

as you were thrown into the rooftop beneath you by the likes of mikasa, it was the past words of your lover that pushed you to fight. even against an ackerman, you would fight. arching your blade behind you, you angled it with the luckiest sort of precision, pressing the very tip of your sword to the clump of hair your comrade had balled up into her hand. with a single slice, you cut it off completely, freeing yourself of her grip as you slipped from in between her legs. in your hindsight, you saw a blonde headed titan— armin. the plan had already been set in motion, and your time was cut short.

with a shout, you ran. however, before you could get even get more than a single step in, you were pulled back, a pair of arms locking either side of your shoulders into place from behind you. eren’s face loomed beside your own, his eyes closed as he aided mikasa in holding you down. with the two of them combined, you couldn’t move. as you struggled, you were pressed into the crumbled surface of the roof, rendering you defeated. now, all you could do was watch.

“LET ME GO!” you would scream, all to no avail. tears coated the sweat that trickled down both sides of you face, leaving your voice hoarse as you shouted, pleaded, and cried all at once. your vision was blurred, and you couldn’t even clearly see as the titan that was once your dying comrade reached down to grasp the awakening body of your love, plotting to take him away from you for good. it was all happening so quickly, you readied yourself to wake up from the nightmare that was reality. wake up, wake up, wake up.

nothing could wake you up, except for a single thing. to your absolute horror, just as he was dropped into the clutches of death itself, the last thing bertholdt could bring himself to scream was your name.

oh, and how it would ring in your ears for the rest of your days.

#attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot imagines #aot x reader #bertholdt hoover #bertholdt hoover x reader

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

for the meet ugly asks, 08 with the ot4 if that’s ok? (the note in the locker one, in case I have the wrong number). rating up to you! :)

Here you go! I went NSFW

Joseph is not missing his chance. Not again.

If he’s keeping count, which he’s certainly not, he’s missed fifty-two chances between fifth grade and now.

Barclay’s family moved next door in the summer of 1951, causing eleven year old Joseph to learn very quickly what it’s like to have someone whose side you never want to leave. Lucky for him, Barclay felt the same way; they were in the same boyscout troop, were each others first choice for sleep overs or outings where they were allowed to take one friend. When they hit high school, Barclay went out for football because Joseph did (and Joseph did because that’s what upstanding young men do). They played together all four years, Barclays growth spurt rendering him doubly dangerous on defense and the dominant source of Joseph’s late-night fantasies. Joseph did debate club alone, but Barclay joined him for chess club. And when Barclay bought his car, his first stop was to take Joseph cruising, just the two of them.

Unluckily, Joseph’s never worked up the nerve to tell Barclay how he feels. This may be why he hasn’t had a date since the spring hop two years ago, while Barclay’s had quite a few (cheerleaders and band boys alike can’t seem to resist his physique and general gentleness).

That all changes today. Joseph slipped a note into Barclays locker right before lunch that conveyed all relevant information.

Dear you,

Drive in on Friday? We can park in the back row.

Love,

Joseph.

He’s sitting in his normal spot on the bench near the cafeteria, doing his best impersonation of someone who’s heart isn’t in his throat.

As he’s scanning the crowd, none other than Duck Newton begins weaving his way over to him, leather jacket reflecting the sun and his black hair combed back as always. Joseph was wary of him for years--as any good square is of kids from the rough side of town--until they got paired together in biology their senior year. Duck, who seems not to give a shit about school the rest of the time, is incredibly good at science. And he’s funny, nearly got them both kept after class for cracking a joke that made Joseph lose his breath laughing.

The problem is, right now he’s waving a very familiar piece of paper.

“Gotta say, I’m pretty fuckin flattered, Joe. But, uh” he leans on the table, smiling playfully, “I gotta make sure ‘Drid is okay with me playin backseat bingo with someone who ain’t him.”

“Um.” Joseph shakes his head, trying not to focus on the idea of Duck holding his head in his lap in the dark corner of the drive in, “I, I’m so sorry. I must have been nervous enough to put the note in the wrong locker. Not, not that you’re not a catch.”

Duck raises his eyebrow, “1650 or 1652?”

“1652.”

“Huh. Well, I got shop class with Barclay. You want me to just give it to him?”

“No.” Joseph holds out his hand.

Duck places the letter in it with a shrug, “Suit yourself, slick. See you later.”

Joseph rips the letter to shreds, tosses it in the trash, and hopes that’s the end of this humiliating error.

It’s not.

“Hello, Joseph.” Indrid Cold rests a shoulder on the locker next to his. There’s no one in Kepler High quite like him; his family moved from California three years ago, which most people use as the explanation for Indrid’s red glasses, crystal necklace, and pale hair that is always a quarter-inch shy of the principal writing him up for it. He’s never struck Joseph as the kind to fight, but he did mistakenly proposition his boyfriend three hours ago.

“Indrid. How can I help you?”

The taller boy hands him a folded slip of notebook paper, “By taking me up on this invitation.”

Before Joseph can ask any questions, Indrid is disappearing down the hall. The paper contains a hand drawn map to an X, under which is the word “Bash” but nothing else. Joseph has never been invited to any kind of party that needed a secret map. He mostly just gets invited to get togethers because he’s the captain of the football team. No one talks to him once he’s there. Well, except Barclay.

He stares at the map; he doesn’t have to be home until ten. He’s never going to get a chance to make the scene like this again.

Joseph shuts his locker and hurries to his car.

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

Indrid’s remarkably accurate map leads him to a dirt parking lot beneath the sign for Amnesty Point. As he follows the signs for the “beach house,” a Coaster’s song drifts through the air, underscored by splashes from the lake to his right. He’s deep in the woods on the wrong side of the tracks, but even so he’s unprepared for how everyone lounging around the weathered picnic tables on a shaded patio stops talking and stares at him.

“Who the fuck invited the square?” Someone whispers, making him wish he hadn’t left the map in the car.

“Joseph?”

He turns so fast the gravel flies. Barclay, clad in a grease-stained apron, is smiling so bright it evaporates his nervousness.

“Hi, big guy.”

His friend hoists him in a hug, “I’m so glad you’re here, Indrid said he invited you but I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“He piqued my curiosity. Um, is this the new job you were so cagey about?”

“Yep. Mama--she runs this place--pays real well, but tries to keep Amnesty Point kinda secret. Cops just love busting places like this up for no reason.”

Joseph nods, still a little hurt Barclay didn’t trust him enough to share where he worked. His friend must notice the dip in his smile before he hides it, because he adds, “It’s gonna be even better working here now that you know where to find me. Listen, um, I gotta get back before Jake sets something on fire, but the burger stand closes at eight. I’ll come find you after that. Duck and Indrid are down by the dock, if you want company.”

He absolutely does, since the alternative is looking even more out of place by being the only person here alone.

When he hits the grey sand, Duck is just pulling himself back onto dry land. The half moon scars on his chest are the only reminders of the trip he took to San Francisco last summer.

“Glad you showed up, slick. Day like this, the water is the only nice place to be.”

“I wish I’d known, I would have brought my swim shorts.” Maybe if he rolls up his pant legs he can get some relief from the heat…

“Could just go in your boxers. I won’t tell.” Duck winks.

“Nothing is also allowed.” Indrid lilts, floating past on his back.

Joseph looks at him, then at the planks of the dock because Indrid is also demonstrating that second option without a care.

Duck snickers, “sugar, put somethin on, you’re scandalizin’ the poor guy.”

“Very well. But I demand help with the sunblock in payment for quashing my self-expression this way.”

“You’re soundin like your pops there, ‘Drid.”

“....ugh, you’re right.” A splash and the soft fwup of a towel, “alright, Joseph, I’m decent.” He is, but his swim shorts leave very little to the imagination. Joseph stares a moment too long, notices Duck smirking when he looks away.

The greaser holds out a bottle of sunblock and they get to work.

“Goddamn, this wouldn’t take so long if you weren’t so fuckin long everywhere.”

“You’ve never complained about that before.” Indrid grins, red sunglasses hiding his eyes. He doesn’t lift a finger to help them, but Duck seems to get a kick from it. Joseph wonders if he spoils Indrid like this in everything they do. If Indrid ever does it back.

(If either of them would do it for him).

They spend the evening talking, Duck skipping stones and Indrid sunning himself while Joseph dangles his legs in the water. When they get back to the beach house Joseph receives fewer stares, Duck and Indrid’s company substituting for cool. He and Duck get a real dinner, but Indrid opts to down three Cokes in place of a meal.

When Barclay closes up shop, he’s immediately at Joseph’s side. Joseph is about to suggest they all go for a walk when Indrid winks at Barclay and steers Duck towards the trees with a promise to see Joseph at school tomorrow.

“You get on okay while I was working?” Barclay starts them on a path towards the edge of the point.

“I did. It was actually really nice just to spend time talking with people who like me. Or at least don’t hate me enough to shove me in the water fully clothed.”

“Nah, they’re not those kind of guys. Hell, it was their idea to invite you here. I was, uh, I was too shy.”

He stops, turning to face Barclay, “what do mean?”

“Duck told me about the note.”

“Oh lord.”

“Not on purpose, he just mentioned he’d seen you and when I asked how you were doing, well, you know he can’t lie for shit. So Indrid suggested we invite you out here.”

“Out of pity?”

“No.” Barclay frowns, sets his hands on Joseph’s shoulders, “Joseph, why didn’t you just ask me out in person?”

“I was too nervous. I thought it might ruin everything.”

“Not a chance, blue eyes.” Barclay rumbles. Then he’s kissing him, gentle and slow, whimpering when Joseph kisses back and cups his face. When they part, he’s certain there’s nothing but air under his feet.

“Can we do that again?”

“Not tonight. Your curfew is still ten.”

“Shit, you’re right, if I don’t get on the road I’ll be late.”

“Lemme walk you to your car. I gotta hang around since I’m Indrid and Duck’s ride home tonight.”

“Do you want to go get them so we can all leave together?”

Barclay chuckles, tips his head towards the woods where a faint, rhythmic grunting cane be heard.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, not gonna ruin their fun.” He pulls Joseph into a much more heated kiss, then sighs, “get home safe, blue eyes.”

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

Joseph suffered through both the personal hygiene class at school and his father’s lecture on what to expect now that he was truly a man. But nothing in either of those taught him what to do if he’s so hot under the collar he can’t focus but the guy who’s causing it won’t just fuck him.

He and Barclay have gone out every Friday for the last month, steaming up the car windows with their kissing sessions. They tried to work out who was supposed to give who their varsity jacket and settled on just trading, Joseph smiling whenever he spots Barclays name on his back. And Barclay tells everyone Joseph is his boyfriend with a level of pride he never gave their state football wins.

But he won’t go all the way with him. One Sunday afternoon they were listening to records in Barclays room when the larger boy rolled across the rug to straddle Joseph. His hands were hot and a little rough on his cock, Joseph moaning into his mouth as he came in under a minute. Before he could reciprocate, the front door banged open, announcing the return of Barclay’s parents. His boyfriend told him not to worry about it and kissed him on the cheek.

He’s worried Barclay loves him but doesn’t want him. He’s worried that if he ever does, Joseph will embarrass himself, be so inexperienced and inelegant he’ll turn him off forever. He wonders if he can entice Barclay to ask him to fuck so he doesn’t have to admit the embarssing intensity of his desire.

“Duck? Do you, um, do you think I’d look better if I dressed like you?”

The greaser looks up from his notes, “Maybe? I mean, I dress like this because I dig it. You wanna try it, go wild.”

Joseph nods, intending to drop it. Instead, he slows his stride by Duck during their laps in gym.

“It’s just, I’m worried I’m too square for anyone to be really into me.”

“Joe, what the fuck is this about?”

“Newton, I heard that! That’s an extra lap.”

“Son of uh, hold on, are you worried about Barclay? Because he’s so into your goody-goody thing I’m surprised he ain’t asked you to fuck him with your report card.”

“Stern, you’re done, get off the track!”

He jogs to the bleachers, Duck’s words rattling around long after he’s hit the locker room.

“You’re really worried about this, ain’t you? You’re smart, slick, but I swear sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of you.” Duck is behind him, still in his gym clothes while Joseph is half changed out of them. They’re both dawdling, the locker room empty save for some other stragglers near the bathroom.

“Duck, if I were in high demand, I’d be getting more, um, attention than I-”

His sentence is cut short by Duck yanking him down into a kiss, lips salty with sweat and so demanding Joseph wants to get on his knees.

Duck pulls back, pats his cheek, “Like I said; right in front of you.”

With that he waves and leaves the room the back way. Joseph can’t even be mad for cutting school; right now, he’s almost ready to follow him.

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

“I really must thank you again.” Indrid clears the low table of his math notes, “my focus is such that I struggle with math much more than I’d like. Having someone sit and walk me through it in a calm setting helps a great deal.”

“I’m always happy. Barclay can too, if you ever can’t get a hold of me.”

“Oh, I know he can. He helped me last year.” Indrid stretches his legs; they’re on the floor of his VW Westfalia. His parents let him live in it on the property behind their one-story house as long as he continues to be a cooperative member of the household.

“I didn’t know that.”

“It was only a few times, though he often lingered when we were through.” Indrid’s emphasis makes Joseph blush.

“Duck and I weren’t going steady yet. And my cocksucking skills are not the stuff of legend for nothing.” Indrid smiles, dreamily.

“Oh. Um.” Joseph shifts his notebook into his lap.

Indrid sits up straighter, “I apologize. I, ah, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not sure that’s what this is.”

Indrid cocks his head, “No? Envy perhaps? After all, you’ve had years to dream about him, to hope you’d be the first, and here comes a skinny little freak from the coast to beat you to it.”

“You’re not a freak” Joseph says softly, “I, I can’t say I blame Barclay for taking you up on it.”

“He does have excellent taste” Indrid looks pointedly over his glasses at him. The heat under his skin doubles as Indrid crawls forward, “you know, Duck and I have an...understanding. But if you and Barclay do not, I can stop. I mean, I can stop regardless, if you don’t want this.” He lowers to his belly between Joseph’s legs, nuzzles his fly with a hum.

“I, I--ohlord” He moans when Indrid mouths at his slacks; he’s getting hard, if he had his way he’d lay down and let Indrid suck him off until he came on his glasses. But he knows he won’t enjoy it if he isn’t sure how Barclay feels.

“I, we should stop. Please.”

Indrid sits up, smiling, “Of course. Would you like to stay for dinner? My mother is making fish stew instead of tofu salad for once.”

“...I’d love to.”

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

“I didn’t know Amnesty owned all this.” Joseph let’s Barclay guide him through the trees.

“Yeah, Mama’s family bought it years ago and she’s hung onto it through some seriously nasty shit. Hah, there they are.” Barclay waves to Duck and Indrid, resting against each other on a massive, checkered blanket. His boyfriend sets the picnic basket down and then, confusingly, turns off the lantern Duck brought.

“Okay, baby, there’s something I’ve got to ask” Barclay looks at him, “do you think I don’t wanna make it with you?”

“Truthfully? Yes. You, you’ve barely gone beyond some heavy petting, meanwhile Indrid was offering to blow me.” He slaps a hand over his mouth; there go all three of these relationships.

Barclay shrugs, “He told me about that.”

“Honesty is important. Most of the time.” Indrid grins.

“Blue eyes, I’m crazy about you. I’ve just been going slow because I was afraid I’d stress you out. I know how you get, Joseph. You put so much pressure on yourself to do everything right, I was worried you’d try so hard to be perfect for me that you wouldn’t enjoy it at all.”

Joseph stares into deep brown eyes, eyes he’s loved since he was a boy. Then he laughs softly, rests his head on Barclay’s shoulder, “You really do know me well, you know that.”

“Oh, oh baby” Barclay holds him closer, “you really think there was a way of touching me that’d disappoint me? Fuck, just getting to kiss you makes me the happiest guy in the state.”

“That being said” Duck drawls, “aint there somethin about practice makin perfect?”

“I, are, is this really what you three want?”

“Yes” Indrid nods, “but if you don’t, well, we shall never speak of it again.”

“I do. Sweet fucking christ I do.” He kisses Barclay ferociously as the other two scoot closer.

“Hmm, I believe we should let seniority decide. Barclay, what’s your preference?”

His boyfriend pulls back, kissing his jaw, “Do you wanna blow me, blue eyes?”

“So badly.”

“That settles that. Duck, what about--ah, I see you’re already taking off your pants, so I guess you’re fucking hm. He’s fucking you? Ah, semantics.” Indrid waves his hand dismissively.

“Wait, does, do we have a rubber?”

Duck pulls one from his wallet, “never leave to see this one without one. I know how he is.”

Indrid pecks his cheek, then grins, “I believe, Joseph, that leaves me to help you with your hand jobs.”

“Fuck, yes.”

“On your back, baby.” Barclays nudges him and he falls onto the blanket. For a moment only the trees and stars look down on him; then Barclays face fills his vision as his hands open his fly and guide his cock out.

“AHshit, shit that’s good.” He bucks as his boyfriend jerks him off steadily, his cock standing at attention in a matter of seconds.

“Okay big fella, you go get your dick sucked.” Duck straddles him. He’s down to only his undershirt, his muscular thighs, soft belly, and strong arms on full displays as he rolls the condom down.

“You’re so handsome” Joseph sighs.

Duck seems to blush, “Thanks, slick. Not bad yourself.”

“I mean it, really, you’re incredible” he paws his legs, grabs his shirt and pulls him down into the kiss. Duck giggles into his mouth, then sinks down onto his cock. Joseph decides he is never, never letting go of the man above him; his weight is so comforting, his body so perfect, the way his laughs morph into moans so charming.

“G-great thing about this position” Duck gasps, “is you don’t gotta do much besides let me ride you. That’s why it’s ‘Drid’s favorite.”

“Second favorite; you on my face is my first. Speaking of which” he kneels, gently lifts Joseph’s head into his hands while Barclay sits cross-legged on the other side of his head. His cock is thick and long, so mouthwatering Joseph opens his mouth without being told.

“Fuck, baby, wanted this so long.” Barclay guides his cock between his lips when Indrid turns his head. The skinnier man keeps supporting him as his tongue registers skin, sweat, Barclay and he whines for more.

“Easy, blue eyes, fuck, you’re doing great.”

“I’ll say. Fuck, can’t believe you been keepin this dick all to yourself, Joe.”

“I got my haAAnds on it once.”

“Clearly you should have done it more” Indrid purrs, hips moving slightly, “as soon as someone plays with it, he sucks cock very nicely.”

“No fuckin kiddin. Baby, baby, yeah, suck like that.”

Indrid shifts behind him, “Barclay, hold him a moment, there’s been a change of plans.” A zipper goes as Barclay cradles him. Then Indrid’s fingers are back, turning him to face a second, narrower cock.

“Handjobs can wait.” Indrid pulls him forward, moaning high when he sucks the head, “oooh, yes, that’s it.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna fuckin combust watchin you do that.” Duck bounces more deliberately and Joseph yelps joyfully around Indrid’s cock. He’s already close to cumming, the feeling of Duck around him and Indrid inside him flooding the rest of him with pleasure.

Indrid pulls his head back, starts to turn him towards Barclays, when it punches through him. He moans, pushes up into Duck as the shorter man laughs.

“I, I came first, I’m sorry, this is one of the things-”

“Shush” Barclay helps him up as Duck climbs of him, “that was fucking incredible, and you’re not done yet.”

“On your knees, facing us. Unless, sweetheart, do you-”

Duck’s hand is already between his legs, “I’m gonna enjoy the show.”

“Mmm, which means I get to enjoy you enjoying it. Barclay, turn slightly, like this.”

“Why, oh, oh I got it, fuck, you’re a fucking genius.”

Joseph agrees, though he’s going a bit cross-eyed. So he closes them, lets first Indrid and then Barclay press their cock into his mouth. It’s a stretch, his jaw aching instantly, but it’s the best he’s ever felt. They can’t push more than the heads in, so he concentrates on sucking and licking, pre-cum collecting on his tongue and spit seeping down his chin. Duck grunts behind him, offering running commentary on Indrid’s appearance and Joseph's voice. Barclay shoves both hands into his hair while Indrid keeps one on his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, Joseph, baby, this is fucking aces, gonna paint your whole fucking stomach white.”

“Ahnnn, agreed” Indrid pants, “your mouth was made for this, ohyes, that’s it, mmm, this is even better, feeling your cock against mine dearest, oh, oh” Indrid cums, bitterness hitting his tongue, and when he tries to swallow he gasps and gags instead.

“Fuck” Barclay grunts and then another burst of cum fills his mouth. He gasps for air as they pull out, sending some down his chin. He wipes ineffectively at it with the back of his hand.

“Here” Duck, underwear back on, cleans his lips with a napkin.

“Th-thank you.”

“Of course.” Duck kisses him as Indrid flops on his belly and Barclay curls his arms around Joseph.

“Gotta say, blue eyes, don’t think you got anything to worry about when it comes to making it good for me. Or, uh, us.”

“No, I don’t think I do.” Joseph rests against him, then jolts up, “shit, what time is it?”

“Ten.”

“Shit!”

“Don’t worry” Indrid nestles next to his knees, “we’ll say I had car trouble and you two came to my aid.”

Joseph relaxes back among his boyfriends, “Good call. Just, um, don’t let Duck talk?”

“Only if I get an extra kiss for keepin my mouth shut.”

“Deal.”

#OT4: Government Men and There Cryptid Boyfriends #Indruck #agent stern/duck newton #sternclay #50s au #inclay #meet ugly #reader request #trans duck newton

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wulfies-kpop-fanfics · 3 years

Text

One Photo → Mark Lee [2]

↳ Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳ AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳ Word count: 2,610

↳ Chapters: Prelude | 1 | You Are Here! | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TUESDAY - 2

The next day you get up to your alarm, a little groggy and on autopilot. You mumble a greeting to Rhiannon who is already in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal. It's not uncommon for you to be undressed in front of her, so she barely reacts for a few moments when you reach into your clean clothes hamper in the living room and begin to change right there.

However, in the midst of putting on your bra, Rhiannon squeals in excitement, nearly making you pee yourself.

“What the hell?!” You exclaim, now convinced that you're fully awake.

“You-your front! Your entire torso! Look!” Rhiannon stands from the little dining table and approaches you, poking your stomach. You nearly let out a scream yourself when you see it.

Your entire torso, from collarbone to hip is completely covered with scar tissue, as well as the underside of your arms and the palms of your hands. “Rhiannon, I-”

“Turn around.” She spoke quickly, and you obey her. She is silent for a little while, which is freaking you out even more than you already were. When she traces an outline over your right shoulder blade, your skin twitches in response. “(Y/N), this is the largest soulmate scar I've ever seen,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I-” You're barely able to stutter out any words. You stand there, half-naked as your best friend examines you.

“Does it hurt?” Rhiannon pokes and prods on the newly formed scar tissue, primarily focusing on your shoulders.

“N-no, not at all.” You purse your lips. You feel like normal if not a bit overwhelmed.

“This has got to be from a hug,” she concludes, nudging you to turn you back around. “There are perfect handprint scars on your back, too. You hugged Mark yesterday, right?”

“He, uh, hugged me three times,” you confirm. “Johnny and Jaehyun hugged me twice.”

“Then it's one of them!” Rhiannon is squealing with delight. “That is so exciting!”

Your face fell a little, finishing putting on your bra and shirt you picked out for the day. “Yeah,” you say softly.

“What's wrong?” Rhiannon is beginning to look concerned, ghosting a hand over your shoulder.

“It's Mark,” you state, “I can feel it, but…”

“But what?”

“If that's true, everything changes. When he leaves, am I going to be able to handle it?” you finish getting dressed and stop to look at your hands. “I… I already know I won't be able to handle the depression and separation anxiety, I won't be able to handle being constantly sick… I was never taught about any of this and I never even thought it would happen to me.”

“(Y/N)...”

“I need to go. I have class.”

You took in a deep breath as you gripped your tablet pen. You had been spending the last month's worth of photoshop labs on drawing a picture of Iron Man for your digital rendering final, and you had been doing well enough until today. Now that your hands had part of your scar, they gripped your pen differently and you were slowly growing more and more frustrated.

It's not that you were angry that you had found your soulmate, and you were definitely happy it was Mark- but everything was happening so quickly. What were you going to say to him? Would his scar ruin his career? Were you ready for any of this? You looked up to your computer screen, seeing your reflection in the black screensaver. Seems like you had been overthinking long enough for the monitor to go to sleep.

You can see the buds of forming tears in your reflection. They were totally uncalled for and you knew it. Finding a soulmate was a happy time. In a world where all of this was completely normalized, you had no idea why you suddenly started feeling like a freak. On your way to class, you had already started to feel eyes on you. Most scars were small, dainty and cute, like a handshake or a poke to the shoulder- not a giant one that covered your entire chest, the inside of your arms and the palms of your hands. Scars larger than an apple were extremely rare, and ones like yours were the rarest of all.

What a wonderful scar, you heard your teacher say when you walked into class that morning. They say that if your scar is big, you're meant to be together for more than one lifetime.

Maybe that was true, and it felt like a big responsibility you weren't ready for. You jumped in your seat when your phone vibrated in your pocket.

Mark: Are you in class?

You: Yeah, but it's almost done

Mark: What is your classroom number? I'd like to pick you up if that's okay

You: Are you sure?

Mark: Yeah! I wanted to spend more time with you today, I feel like it wasn't enough yesterday

You: You're cheesy

You: My classroom is 103A in M building

Mark: You know it

Mark: See you soon

You found yourself smiling at his texts. Talking to him eased some of your anxiety, but it still lingered in the back of your head. You put your phone down and shake your mouse so the screen comes back to life. Iron Man stares back at you, and you almost close the program. Your thoughts were irrational, and the only thing your scars were stopping you from doing was finishing the touch-ups of the last few pixels of this piece.

Your hands will get used to it, you scold yourself, this is a good thing, (Y/N). You're not your parents.

You're snapped out of your thoughts again as your classmates begin to pack up, the quiet rustle of backpacks filling the room. You look back at your piece, over a month's work put into it and all you needed was maybe five minutes more of touch-ups and it would be perfect.

The next time this classroom was going to be used was later tonight for the college's dungeons and dragons party, so you didn't think anyone would mind you staying to finish up.

The five minutes of touch-ups turned into 20 minutes of improving mistakes you've noticed, and 20 minutes of improving mistakes turned into an hour of being completely absorbed in your work. You had been so focused on everything that you barely even perk up when you hear one of the computer chairs rolling closer to you.

“I thought you went home, Moose,” you say casually, sticking your tongue out and swiping a line of light reflection onto a strip of red plating.

“You have a friend named Moose?” The voice replies, and you nearly jump out of your seat, the pen swiping across the tablet and drawing a large white streak across Iron Man's face.

“Mark,” you sigh, placing a hand on your chest and trying to take in a deep breath. “You scared me.”

Mark smiled sheepishly. “Sorry…” he looks at your computer screen. “I didn't mean to ruin your piece.”

You smile gently, hitting ctrl z on your keyboard. The streak disappears, you save the piece and turn off the computer. “It's okay. I'm just lucky I don't have autosave turned on.”

Mark sighed with relief. “You kinda scared me,” he starts, looking you in the eye. “You didn't come out of the classroom for so long that I thought you might have forgotten. I probably would have left if your teacher didn't recognize me and say it was okay for me to come inside.”

Your frown at him and avoid his eye contact, deciding to focus on zipping up your backpack. “I'm sorry,” you say dejectedly. “I was dumb, but I would just be a downright moron if I stood you up on purpose.”

Mark laughed softly, watching you pack up. “What did you want to do today?” he asked, voice softer.

“I don't know,” you say, standing and slinging your backpack over your shoulders. “I would like to drop this off at my dorm, though. It's kinda heavy.”

“Okay,” Mark nods. “We can start with that and go from there.”

While you travelled back to your dorm, nearly all of your anxiety about your scars disappeared. You talked about anything but the scar that was easily noticeable through your summery outfit. The more people looked at you, the more you wonder if Mark was keeping quiet out of courtesy for your aversion to his first question on the subject.

Mark was sweet, complimenting your outfit and keeping up a strong conversation about marvel movies.

“Have you seen Endgame yet?” you asked him once you got back to the subject of Iron Man, and Mark laughed sadly.

“To my disappointment, no,” he answered, letting you board the subway first, pulling up his face mask. “Haven't had the time.” he stood close enough to you on the busy subway car that you could still hear him properly.

“Well, if you want we could see it,” you offer quickly, blushing and looking away as you saw his smile through his eyes.

“Are you asking me out, (Y/N)?” he asks, nudging you gently with his elbow.

“N-no,” you respond, swearing up and down mentally that you were as red as a tomato.

“I would graciously accept, but how about we wait until tomorrow? I want to catch up a little bit, I haven't watched any of the films in a while, I've been so busy preparing for the tour.” Mark smiled when you turned back to look at him again.

“Okay, well, I have all the films at my dorm,” you say, biting your lip.

“Would your roommate be okay if we stayed in?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, she would be more than okay,” you tell him, which causes both of you to start laughing. “She will probably faint if she sees you again.”

“I think I've had my lifetime fair share of people fainting in front of me,” he says humorously.

“I wouldn't worry. She is working on her finals today and probably won't be back until after you leave,” you say. “We will have the place to ourselves.”

“Okay, that sounds good. I'm looking forward to catching up. Do you have popcorn?” he asks sheepishly.

“Yeah, we-” the subway comes to an abrupt stop at your station, and you nearly lose your balance. Mark catches you before your face ploughs directly into his chest. He’s holding your arm gently as you exit the subway car, and it is then you truly notice that Mark's scars are clearly visible, from his palms to the edge of his t-shirt, just like you.

When you get back to your dorm room, you place your bag and your shoes in the hallway, leading Mark inside. He pulls down his mask and sighs happily, joining you in removing his shoes and placing them on the shoe rack.

“I remember when my dorm was about this size,” he says wistfully, looking around. You frown a little.

“You mean everyone in NCT used to live in a place like this?” you ask, walking into the kitchen to prepare a pack of popcorn.

“Not exactly, the different subgroups all had their own dorms, but they were all tiny, for more than 3 guys to live in at once.” Mark wanders over to you in the kitchen, leaning back on the counter and crossing his ankles.

“I'm sorry,” you say. “I hope it's different for you now.”

“Yeah,” he replies, watching you put the popcorn in the microwave and press the appropriate numbers. “We all live pretty comfortably now.”

You smile at him. “Good, I'm happy. You deserve to live in a place where you're comfortable.”

Mark is silent for a moment. The microwave finishes and he moves out of your way as you grab a large mixing bowl to put your snack in. He’s watching you diligently, and you feel that too familiar pinch in your chest. It's more intense than you've ever felt from just watching internet content of him on your laptop.

“What film did you want to start with?” you ask, leading him to the living room as you pull a tote bag out from under your coffee table that contains your Marvel movie collection. “We can just watch Infinity War if you want, or we can watch them in story order if you're feeling a little daring.”

“You know the order to watch them chronologically?” he asks, sitting down with the popcorn bowl in his lap.

“Yeah. Rhiannon and I watched them all in order up to the release of Endgame.”

“Wow, I'm impressed,” Mark comments, popping a couple of pieces of the snack into his mouth. “What's the order of the last three films?”

“Let me see… it's Thor Ragnarok, Ant-Man and the Wasp and Infinity War,” you answer. “Wanna watch those?”

“Yeah. Let's do that.”

A few hours later you both are now watching Infinity War, about halfway through the film. A blanket had made its way over your laps and the popcorn bowl has been long empty, sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

You can tell Mark is nervous. You're sitting close, your legs nearly touching, and you wonder if you should say something. You hoped you didn't scare him away from saying anything when the topic was brought up the night before. You didn’t want your bitterness to ruin it all.

Once you spare one glance from the movie to look over at him, you notice Mark has already beat you to it. His gaze pierces right through you, and somehow you feel as if Mark is seeing your soul.

“I don't want to make you uncomfortable,” he says, half-smiling at you. “I don't want to repeat yesterday's mistake.”

“It's okay,” You say softly, “you didn't know.”

“But I should have.” He sounds serious and definitely looks the part, too.

You lick your lips as you watch him. There's something that hits you, like a wave of anxiety that is different from your own.

“Mark,” you have to pause to gather your words. “You've known me for two days. Mistakes are bound to happen, and I… I don't actually hate the premise.”

“Would you be okay with, um, talking about it?” The movie is playing in the background, the flashing images reflecting different lights onto Mark's face.

“There is not much to talk about, is there?” you asked, holding up your scarred hand. “It's here, on both of us, and I'm happy. Scared, but happy.”

“You're not upset about it?” he asked, and it was almost like he was bracing for rejection.

You took his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “No. You said you wanted to know someone so well that you didn't have to think about it, right?”

“Yeah, I did.” Mark returned the grip, his eyes glancing between your eyes and your hand. “You're right, we don't have to think about it.” Mark smiles softly at you, freeing his hand from yours so he can wrap his arm around your shoulder, guiding you to lean into his side.

It's maybe two hours later when you're stirred ever so slightly by the jiggling of the lock to your front door. You don't open your eyes, trying to ignore the sound and continue to cuddle into the warm body squished against you on the couch.

Soft voices are muffled through your ears, and in your half slumber you can't exactly make any words out. Fatigue eventually grips you once again, returning to the vivid dream you were engrossed in just moments ago.

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #nct #nct127 #nctu #nct scenarios #nct imagines #reader insert #fanfiction #kpop fanfictions #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

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noladyme · 4 years

Text

Chess. Chapter 3

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

TW: sexual harassment/assault, torture, sexual themes

I don’t know how many days passed. In the dark, days and nights flowed together; making it difficult to keep up a daily rhythm that made sense.

I lived from meal to meal. Not that I ate much of what they sent in, which was usually more of those little pellets in water; and every third meal, being something cold and mushy, that smelt conspicuously like canned cat food. It took me about 6 “meals”, to finally accept that this is what it actually was. With the canned food I’d get a thin slice of stale toast. This – along with a plastic cup of water – was all I consumed for a long time.

Every once in a while, I’d hear Griggs voice through the speaker, reminding me he was still there. He’d tell me to get ready; meaning I had to face the wall opposite the door, hands and legs spread. They’d come in then, the guards, usually fronted by the man himself, and flip over the mattress, pretending to search my cell for contraband.

That’s when he’d stand behind me, pressing himself against my back. His hands would wander, patting me down everywhere, even the parts of my body not covered by clothing. After a final squeeze of my asscheek; he’d turn around and proclaim; “She’s clean”. They’d back out the door, shut it, and it would be dark again.

During one of these visits, I’d had enough, and as Griggs hand wandered towards my groin area, I quickly grabbed his hand, twisting his fingers until I heard a crack.

“Bitch!”, Griggs screeched, elbowed me in the side; and as I feel to the floor, I suddenly had three guards on me, kicking me on my sore hip, and on my ribs. One of the kicks pushed the air out of me, and as I desperately tried to regain control of my breathing, they backed out the door, leaving me there alone.

Maybe 10 minutes later, the speaker howled in the darkness.

“That was not very nice, puss”, Griggs said. “You know, I’ve tried to play nice with you; even breaking the budget on those canned foods you’ve been getting. No more. It’s time you settle in for the long haul”.

Music played, at first at a low volume; but then increasing, until it felt like my head was going to explode from the sound. It would stay like that for about 30 seconds, before being lowered again. It continued like this; music turning up and down, with the highest volume being so intense, no amount of covering my ears seemed to help. My heart beat fiercely, and I could even feel the veins of my fingers pounding. I curled up in a seated position.

After what seemed like forever, the music stopped. I exhaled, and removed my hands from my ears; my biceps stinging from how long and forcefully I had been covering them. I laid down, ears ringing; and I could hear the blood pumping through my body. My ribs and my hip were pulsating in pain.

I closed my eyes, and my body began to give in to sleep.

The music started again. Same pattern as before. I screamed, but at the height of the music, I couldn’t even hear my own voice. That’s when I passed out.

---

“Chess”, a familiar voice called. “Y/N!”. I came too, slowly.

“No more”; I whispered into the darkness; lips and tongue dry.

“Cover your eyes. I’m turning on the lights”. I recognized the voice then. Flag. With great effort, I covered my face with my arm, curling up into a fetal position. I heard the sound of the fluorescent lights flickering on. Then footsteps and keys rattling outside the door.

“Three goddamn days? She’s been out for three days?!”, Flags voice boomed on the other side of the door. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”.

The door opened, and through the crack of my bended arm, I saw boots walking towards me.

“We thought she was faking it, sir”, Griggs answered Flag.

I felt a hand on my waist, and winced in pain.

“What the hell did you do to her?”, Flag growled.

“She attacked me, sir. My men might have gone a bit overboard”, Griggs retorted.

I blinked, the light still too sharp for my eyes. Flag took a hold of my arm, pulling it away from my face. My eyes hurt, but I looked up at him. His expression was pained.

Putting an arm around my waist, he pulled me up into a seated position. I looked down at my body. I was filthy, covered in dust; and my arms and legs looked skinnier than the last time I’d seen them.

“Can you stand?”, Flag quietly asked me. His eyes were worried.

I tried to get onto my knees, but was too dizzy; and fell back onto my butt. Flag got behind me, and carefully slipped his arms through mine; lifting me onto my feet.

I was weak, and tried to take a wobbly step forward, falling back into his arms. He lifted my arm, and put it around his neck, dragging me with him.

“Help me out, Edwards”, Flag said, and a man with a stubbled face, standing a few inches shorter than Flag, took my other arm around his own neck. Half walking, half carrying me out of the cell, we passed Griggs, who was standing outside. I saw that his hand was in a cast of some kind; and smiled at the fact that I’d made my mark.

They walked me down a dimly lit corridor. Was I in a basement? The doors we passed were all closed, and I wondered if there were other prisoners behind them.

At the end of the hall were stairs, and the two soldiers dragged me up them, until we came to a new corridor, cleaner and brighter than the one we had come from. They took me to a room, sparsely furnitured with a metal table, and two chairs on either side of it. A clock over the door told me it was 3 o’clock. Am or pm, I didn’t know. Interrogation, I told myself, and the men seated me in a chair, handcuffing me to the table.

On one wall was large mirror, which I knew would be a two way.

I looked at myself in the mirror. The person staring back at me was someone I didn’t know. Her face was gaunt, eyes dark; and she was black and blue on one side of her torso. Well hello, gorgeous, I laughed at myself.

“Something funny?”, Flag asked me, on his way out the door.

“Just that stick up your ass”, I answered, and smiled as brightly as I could.

He closed the door behind him.

One hand free, I ran my fingers through my hair; matted from my ordeal.

I waited for about 30 minutes. Something smelled rancid, and I realized it was me. I hadn’t bathed for who knew how long; but it would obviously have to wait.

The door opened again, and in stepped the woman from the van, followed by Flag, who was looking everywhere but at me. The woman sat down, and pulled out a paper file folder.

“My name is Amanda Waller”, she said.

“I know who you are”, I said, and leant back in the chair, trying for casual. “I also know you’re here to make me an offer I can’t refuse. Literally. You’ll kill me if I do”.

Waller smirked. “I won’t, but the guards at this place might. Apparently, you broke the captains favorite jerking hand”.

“So you’ve been listening in”.

“We have. And though I am not happy with the way things have turned out, it seems all of this was necessary to keep you in line”, Waller retorted. “Let me get down to the point. Me and the colonel here, lead a group of people with special skills. For some reason you know this already; so you probably also know that each of these individuals are people, who most of the good people of The United States would rather see behind bars, or even executed”. She narrowed her eyes at me. “Before I continue, please humor me; how did you know of us?”.

“I knew about you. I didn’t know about Mr. Tall, Lean and Grumpy here”, I said, and nodded my head in Flags direction. His expression remained calm, but his lips twitched once; revealing that my answer had made an effect.

“Hear that, Flag? Your cover remains unblown. Good for you”. Her cold eyes remained on me. “Now answer the question, Y/N”.

“There are whispers. About a cold bitch who is tracking people like me; to use our… special skills”, I repeated her own words.

“But there really is no one like you, is there, Chess?”. She stood up, and opened the folder. “Y/N Y/L/N. A.k.a. Chess. Short for Cheshire?”.

“Nah, that name was taken”, I smirked.

“Right. You don’t strike me as someone with martial arts skills and venomous nails”, she said, looking down at my chipped black polish.

“I can scrap with the best of them, if necessary”.

“I’m counting on it”. She continued. “B minus high school student, until you had a run in with Jervis Tetch, a.k.a. The Mad Hatter. Experimenting with a device he hoped would render himself invisible, he tested it out on one of his kidnapping victims. You”.

I winced. The memory of that event was something I’d rather have been left alone.

“It backfired. Without going in to the scientific details, it made you able to become invisible at will, without using the aforementioned device. He decided to use you for his own criminal activity, and for a few years, you worked for him as a cat burglar and spy. During one of his stints in Arkham Asylum, you decided to become an independent contractor”.

I sat up straight, daring her to continue. She sat back down.

“Burglary. Car theft. Stealing official documents from the FBI – impressive!”, she smiled. “Kidnapping of a senators daughter. Possession of an illegal drug substance?”.

“Actually those last ones were a two for one”, I laughed. “And it wasn’t so much a kidnapping as great weekend in Vegas. She was fully in to it. We almost got married”. The clerk at the chapel had refused to go through with the ceremony, because he was worried, we were under the influence of drugs. It might have been the smell of the half smoked blunt in my pocket that gave us away. “Stephanie? Tiffany? I can’t remember her name”.

“Melissa”, Flag said from behind Waller.

“Right. Melissa!”, I smirked. “You could bounce a nickel of her ass. Was she an ex of yours?”, I smiled at him. He scoffed.

Waller continued. “You’ve avoided arrest on most of your charges; I suppose, due to your condition”.

“My ability to smile”, I said.

“Yes, that’s right. Before you become invisible, you purr and smile. Is there a reason for this?”, she goaded me on. I knew it didn’t make any sense to be secretive, so I decided to be up front with her.

“I don’t know. That’s just how it is. When I need to disappear, my body vibrates, which sounds like a purr. The smile is what sends signals to my brain, to bend light around my body, or an object I’m touching; which then becomes invisible. Serotonin, dopamine… whatever. It works”. I sighed. “Where are we going with this?”.

“Task Force X, under the day to day leadership of Colonel Flag, has an opening. I want you to fill that spot”.

“Why?”, I asked, genuinely wondering.

“Because making things and people disappear is handy, in some of the missions the Force may have coming up”.

“But what is in it for me?”

“10 years of your sentence, per mission”, Waller replied, and closed the file.

“What sentence? I haven’t done anything in a long time”, I said, voice shaking lightly.

“16 months ago, judge Jeremiah Kelper disappeared for a week, before an anonymous tip led the police to him, bound, bloody and gagged, in a warehouse on Gotham Harbor”. Waller folded her hands in front of her, and met my eyes again. “When he woke up at the hospital, he was ranting about a “ghost” that had drugged him, dragged him to the warehouse; and held him for days, tied to a chair. The “ghost” had beat him several times with a pipe, and… well, let’s not get further in to that”.

I couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds like someone had it in for him”.

“Sounds like”, Waller half whispered. “I also know that Kelpers records are much cleaner than he is. But then there’s the money”.

“What money”, I asked, looking first at Waller, then up at Flag, who smirked at me.

“1 million dollars, cash, disappeared from a safe at Wayne Tower, two months ago. What did you spend it on?”, he asked.

Shit, they got me, I thought. “I donated it”.

“Some of it”; Waller said, and reopened the file. “987.000 dollars were donated anonymously to a local shelter for battered women, two days later”.

I leant forward; and Flag quickly took a step towards the table, putting his arm in front of Waller.

“Calm down, soldier”, I said. “From what I hear, The Wayne Foundation matched my donation to the same shelter, not long after”.

“You’re right”, Waller said. “It seems to me, you want to be one of the good guys”. I smirked again. “But you’re not. You’re a villain, Y/N – one of the bad guys. But you can make that badness have a purpose”.

I leant back again, and Flag relaxed, stepping back. He folded his arms – those arms – and leant against the wall, toying with the id-card attached to his t-shirt sleeve.

“Show me what you can do”, Waller demanded.

“I can’t”, I said, looking back at Wallers now surprised face. “I need energy to smile, and for the last – what – month or so, I’ve been living on stale toast and kibble”, I admitted.

“Flag”, Waller said, and the soldier took a candy bar from his pants pocket, and placed it in front of me. With my free hand shaking, I opened the wrapper, and put it to my lips. Taking a bite of the heavenly chocolate, feeling the wonderful sensation of sugar rushing through my system; I moaned.

“Mhmm”. Flag stepped back to wall again, looking uncomfortable at my sounds. I couldn’t help myself. “Got anything else in those pants for me?”, I purred; and as he quickly looked away from my face, I smiled.

Touching the table with my free hand, it went away in a mist, making the file folder look as if it was floating in midair. Wallers eyes went wide. I kicked of one slipper, touching the floor with my bare foot, and suddenly, the floor was gone, leaving the three of us as if standing on clear glass.

Looking down, I saw a cell, no bigger than my own had been, though better furnished; with a cot, a toilet, a couple of nudie posters, and a tiny table. In the middle of the room stood a rugged looking man, clutching a toy unicorn in his arms. He looked up, eyes large; before looking towards Waller. He smiled widely, gold tooth gleaming, and though I couldn’t hear what he was saying, it was clear it was along the lines of “I see London, I see France, I see Wallers underpants”. Waller crossed her legs quickly, and looked at me, with a mix of horror and excitement plastered on her face.

“Enough!”, she shouted.

That’s when I made myself disappear before their eyes.

Flag and Waller looked around the room trying to find me, before Flag ran across the invisible floor, towards the chair, grabbing for what I guess he thought would be my shoulder, but ended up being my right breast. Confused at the softness, his brow furrowed.

My energy gave out. The floor, the table, and lastly my body, reappeared. Realizing where his hand was, Flag jumped back, looking at his hand, face reddening. “Thanks for that”, I smiled at him flirtatiously. He turned his back to me and clenched his guilty hand into a fist.

“I think I’ve seen everything I need to”, Waller said, standing back up again, picking up the folder. “Training starts tomorrow. Once the colonel has calmed down a bit, he’ll make sure you get a proper meal”. She went for the door.

“Waller!”, I stopped her dead in her tracks. “Tell me, did Kelpers balls ever pop back down?”.

She smiled crookedly at me. “I hear he’s going to need some reconstructive surgery”.

She walked out the door, leaving me with Flag.

Flag unlocked the cuffs, and pulled me up. “Think you’ll be able to walk yourself this time?”.

I leant towards him, putting my hands on his chest. Fuck, you’re firm, I thought.

“I might need a little help. Feel free to grab a hold of me anywhere”, I beamed at him.

Flag roughly put my arms behind my back, and cuffed them together. “Let’s go, kitten”, he scoffed, and pushed me in front of him, out of the door. My friends The Tweedles were waiting outside. “Get her back to her cell. Make sure the lights are on until 2200 hours. And get her a proper meal”.

As Tweedle Dee and Dum supported my still weak body walking down the hall, I looked back at Flag.

“You like me”, I flirted, and his face reddened again, before he turned around, and walked in the opposite direction.

#rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag fic #rick flag imagine #suicide squad fic #suicide squad imagine #amanda waller

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 4 years

Text

Far Away but Not Apart

Ao3

Summary: Roman loved Logan with all of their heart, even if they had only ever seen him through a computer screen. Content: Nb!Roman, don’t think there’s anything else really Pairing: Romantic logince Notes: This is the amos prize minific for @averykedavra who requested long-distance logince. I’m not certain I stuck properly to the prompt, but I do hope you like it, Avery!

“-I’m just saying, there is no crueler mistress than the one that would place soulmates such as ourselves so far apart!”

Logan sighed, rolling his eyes in a way that Roman was fully aware was amused, not annoyed. Though he had started the facetime sitting up and back in his fancy office chair, he was now leaning forwards, elbows on the desk, supporting his chin with one of his hands. “If fate were as cruel a mistress as you claim, Roman, then why would she allow us to meet each other at all?”

“To torture us!” Roman replied dramatically, grinning when Logan chuckled. “It is only in knowing the other exists that we suffer! To be so close in heart but so far in distance-”

“A pity, yes, but one we will survive.” Logan said, scoffing when Roman pouted at him. “You will only make yourself feel worse about our situation the longer you dwell upon in it.”

“I have dwelled upon it every day since the one I met you, and suffered it every day since the one you allowed me to call you mine.”

“We’ve only been dating for four months, Roman.”

“And friends for two years!” Roman added on for him. “And never once during all of that time have I so much as held your hand! It is a crime, my beloved, a crime, a sin, a defiance against all that is good and pure!”

“You’re overexaggerating.”

Roman sighed and collapsed backwards on their bed, hand splayed over their forehead. “No, I’m suffering.”

Logan laughed, and Roman lifted their head just enough that they could see him as he did so, their faux pout dropping so that they could smile at their muse. People who didn’t really know Logan said he was cold, unfeeling, logical to a fault. That was because people who didn’t really know Logan had never seen him smile brighter than the sun and laugh prettier than any angel could.

Roman didn’t realize they had gotten lost in their thoughts of loving Logan until the object of their affections coughed and said, “You’re staring.”

“How could I not?” Roman replied without missing a beat. “You are beauty incarnate, my sweetness, figure carved from smoothest marble and face painted with finest hues. I cannot help but to stare.”

“You really are too much.” Logan told them, but his cheeks had flushed a dark red that let Roman know their words had had exactly the impact they had hoped for. “I was asking you what you were doing this weekend.”

“Losing myself within worlds far more interesting than ours for but the fact that they do not have you, my angelic love.”

“So… binging Netflix?”

“My way of describing it was better.”

Logan chuckled. “If you say so, dear.”

Roman smiled at the petname. They had always loved how it made them sound as if they were an old married couple (which Roman fully intended for them to be one day). “And what are you going to be doing over your break from work-aligned existence?”

“Not really a break, I’m afraid.” Logan said, prompting Roman’s smile to become a frown. “I’ve got a business meeting on Saturday, leaving Friday night.”

Roman’s frown deepened. “Does that mean virtual movie night is off?”

Logan nodded, now frowning himself. “I’m sorry to say, but yes. We’ll have to reschedule for another week.”

“Well that sucks.” Roman said, trying to keep the majority of their disappointment out of their voice. They knew it wasn’t anything that Logan could change, so they didn’t want to make him feel bad about it. “You better get me a souvenir though. To make it up to me.”

“If a ten dollar bobble-head will fill the hole in your life that is our Friday night virtual movie marathon, then I am glad to oblige.” Logan returned, briefly looking away from the camera to check a paper on his desk. “Your address is the same, yes?”

“Don’t know how I could’ve changed it without you knowing.”

“Just checking.” Logan said, marking something down before he turned back towards the camera. “Now, I hate to once more be the figurative bearer of bad news, but I must take my leave- I have a client call in a few minutes here.”

“Skip it.”

“I do have to keep my job, Ro.”

“Your new job can be loving me, twenty-four seven, benefits are spending all your time with me.”

“And how much does loving you pay?”

“Did you not hear about the benefits? They’re better than money!”

Logan just laughed fondly. “You are cute, I’ll give you that.’

“So you’ll take up my offer and your new job?”

“Sadly, to function in the real world, I need a cash-paying job.” Logan told them, smiling at Roman’s following pout. “But if it alleviates your pains, know that I already love you twenty-four seven.”

At that, Roman allowed their pout to morph into a smile. “Well, look at who’s being cute now.”

“I’m simply stating the facts.” Logan replied, glancing at his watch. “One of which is, unfortunately, that I really must go now. I’m worried I’ll be too busy tomorrow to chat- I’ll call you on Saturday, alright?”

“Oh, my star, my sun, my only light through the darkness and troubles that are this world, however will I survive a whole day without any contact with you?”

“You are strong, my knight, I’m sure you’ll find a way.” Logan told them in return, grinning when Roman blushed. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Roman responded, blowing Logan an imaginary kiss. Logan, as always, indulged them by ‘catching it’ before he turned his camera off, Roman’s screen going dark soon after. As soon as it darkened, Roman sighed, falling back against their bed and shutting their laptop as they did so.

It was going to be a long day and a half.

“Roman? Wh- Why are you calling?”

“Because I miss you!” Roman whined, not bothering with pretending to not be clingy. “Yesterday was long and dull and completely devoid of true joy and true love! I simply could not bear to wait til you called me! Oh, how I have missed you, my world, my stars, my universe-”

“It’s barely been a day, love.”

“Love!” Roman said, ignoring the majority of his sentence and latching onto the important part of it. “I haven’t heard you call me that in over a day! Possibly two! Hell, darling, I’ve been in absolute hell without you.”

Logan laughed at that, and Roman had never before so desperately wished they were on a facetime, just so they could see the absolute glory that would be Logan’s face while he was laughing. It didn’t matter how many times they had seen him laugh- it would never be enough. Before Roman could say something to that extent, however, their doorbell rang, grabbing their attention.

“Damnit.” They said, annoyed. Did they have packages coming today? They didn’t think so. And they really, really didn’t want to get up.

“What is it?”

“The doorbell- it’s fine, probably just a package or some door-to-door salesperson. Just annoying, interrupting the melodic sound of your laughter-”

“You should probably get that.”

Roman groaned and threw their head back. “But I don’t want to!”

“It could be someone important.” Logan told them. “Don’t worry, I’ll still be here when you get back.”

Roman groaned louder, but they still swung themself off their couch. “Fiiiine. But when it turns out to be nothing, I’m going to… I’m going to…”

“Yes?” Logan asked, in a much too smug way that suggested he knew perfectly well Roman had no way to end their threat.

“...I’ll think of something.” Roman said vaguely, ignoring Logan’s following chuckle of disbelief and amusement. Shaking their head, Roman moved the phone from their ear to the side of their neck, muffling the speaker as they opened the door. “Okay, listen, I’ve got some important stuff going on so-”

Roman cut themself off as soon as they saw who was standing on their porch. Because it wasn’t a salesperson or a dropped-off package- it was a man with a suitcase by his feet, a phone in his hand, and a face Roman would sooner die than forget.

“Surprise?” Logan said, and that was all he was able to get out before Roman had flung themself at him and wrapped them up in what Roman was sure was the biggest, tightest, most important hug they had ever given.

“You’re here!” Roman said after a minute of just basking in the magnificence of the moment. They still refused to let go of him, having dropped their phone so that they could hold on solely to Logan, keeping him as close to their chest as possible. “You’re really here!”

“Well I’m certainly not a hallucination or someone pretending to be your boyfriend.” Logan said, having managed to get his phone into his pocket before returning Roman’s hug. “So I should hope I’m really here, yes.”

“Yes- but- you’re here! I can see you! I can hug you! I AM hugging you!” Roman exclaimed, knowing they were getting repetitive at that point but not caring at all. They were currently hugging their boyfriend for the first time ever, after all- how could they care about anything else?

“That you are.” Logan agreed, voice still a professional neutral before he tightened his grasp on Roman and added, “So I am as well.”

Roman giggled, a mostly involuntary sound that was brought about the sheer joy of the moment. They pulled back from Logan, just a bit, just enough that they could see his face- his beautiful, lovely, gorgeous face, a face that was a million times prettier in real life. “Can I kiss you?”

“Mhmm- not on the lips. Weird texture.” Logan said, but he was still smiling, unbothered by Roman’s question.

Happily, Roman pressed a kiss to Logan’s forehead, grinning when they saw Logan’s smile grow. “I can work with that.” They said before moving to pepper the rest of Logan’s face with kisses.

“If I- if I knew you were going to be this persistent I- I would’ve stayed home.” Logan protested, having broken down himself and begun giggling in between Roman’s kisses, rendering his protests unbelievable.

“My most beloved, you are a horrible liar.” Roman told him, pressing an extra special kiss to his nose before saying suddenly, “Hey, wait- don’t you have a business meeting you’re supposed to be at?! You can’t be here!”

Logan laughed. “Roman, my prinx, this is the business meeting. I lied so I could surprise you.”

Both Roman’s eyes and smile widened as they dived back into scattering kisses across Logan’s entire face, only stopping when Logan pulled far away enough they could no longer reach his face.

“We are going to get absolutely nothing done if I allow you to kiss me all day.” Logan said, though at Roman’s pout he did lean forwards to kiss Roman’s forehead. “I did take Monday and Tuesday off, but I can’t be here forever, you know.”

“You say that as if it would be a waste of our time if I used it for little more than showering you in all the affection you deserve.” Roman returned, attempting to resume their attack of Logan’s face.

Logan pulled back once more, chuckling when Roman immediately began to sulk. “There will be plenty of time for that. But there is also time for other activities, such as one that might have been missed recently…?”

Roman blinked at Logan, frowning for a moment in confusion before their face lit up in a grin. “Oh! Movie night! We can have a real life movie night!

“Only if we don’t spend our entire weekend standing on your porch.” Logan pointed out. “So… may I come in?”

“Of course!” Roman said, finally (albeit regrettably) letting go of Logan so that he could grab his suitcase and come inside. The moment he was within and Roman had closed their door, however, Roman had their arms wrapped around Logan’s waist, smiling as Logan laughed and put a hand backwards so that he could hold Roman’s shoulder.

“You’re very touchy.” Logan commented, though he didn’t sound annoyed.

Roman just held him closer. “Two and a half years, my heart and soul and life! So long have I waited for this moment- you wouldn’t hold it against me that I wish to cherish it, would you?”

“It’s actually been two years, four months, and three days since our first interaction.” Logan corrected them before softening, leaning back and more into Roman’s hold. “But no, I won’t hold it against you.”

“Good.” Roman said, pressing a kiss to the top of Logan’s head. “Because I have no plans of letting you go anytime soon.”

Logan tilted his head back so that he could smile at Roman. “Well I should hope you don’t.” He responded, looking fondly at Roman. “Four days aren’t that much time. It would be a shame to waste even a second of them.”

Roman grinned. “Aw, you do like being cuddled!”

At the claim, Logan looked down, trying (and failing) to hide the blush Roman could still see blooming in his cheeks. “Maybe just a little bit.”

Grin widening, Roman shifted as quickly as possible, eliciting a small yelp from Logan as they lifted him up and held him against their chest. “Don’t worry Lo,” Roman began, using their new position to kiss Logan’s forehead, “Four days may not be a lot of time in the grand scheme of things, but it is plenty of cuddle time.”

Roman expected Logan to protest that, to say that time was the same whether it was in the ‘grand scheme of things’ or in ‘cuddle time’ or any other definiment of time, but he didn’t- instead, Logan just let out a small sigh and rested his head against Roman’s shoulder. “We’re watching Big Hero Six first.”

“Of course!” Roman agreed enthusiastically, leaving Logan’s luggage behind on the floor as they walked over to their couch before adding (just because he could), “Anything for you, my love.”

Because Logan was right- four days wasn’t that much time.

But Roman had plans to make the most of every second.

#logince #ts logan #ts roman #nb!roman #ts sides #sanders sides #fanfic #fanfiction #the cryptid speaks #amos minific #i haven't written logince in forever #gosh i missed these bois #averykedavra

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

Ranked S

Tigre stood in the doorway to the dining hall of Cassell College in awe of the massive chandelier. It was gold, in the shape of a great tree under a high domed ceiling and every leaf was a light. It was the most magnificent thing he had seen in all of the College so far and it was accessible because he knew what a tree was and what a lamp was and he could see that this work of art was the two put together. What great innovation!

After spending a few hours last night with Chu Zihang’s friends, he felt too excited to sleep. He kept fiddling with the tablet computer all night, surfing the internet and googling all manner of things until the machine ran out of batteries. They had explained how to charge it, but Tigre felt a moment of great panic when the low battery warning came up. What if he tried to charge it and it didn’t work? He’d be up a creek on his first day of school.

The freshman students in green uniforms all sat at very long heavy wooden tables. He recognized the Smith sisters and waved, trotting up to them and sitting down. “Hi! I hope you feel better now!”

The Smith sisters all looked at him in silence and uncomfortable smiles. Except for Ruby. She gave a little laugh and said. “Yeah, we do… thanks.”

They all wore the same hairstyle with their hair tied up and back and the mass of curls poofed out like a bouquet of flowers. They still had the insect motif. Ruby with her butterfly earrings, Porsche with her dragonfly earrings, and Ladybug Celeste.

“Oh. What’s that on the wall? Is that dragon language too?” Tigre asked in wonder.

“That’s Latin…” Porsche drawled. “You should be able to tell if you speak Spanish.” She rested her cheek in her hand and pointed at him, doubt filling her voice.

“He said he only spoke a little!” Ruby was quick to defend him. “It’s just saying ‘Welcome new students.”

“Oh… Latin…” Now that he stared at it he could tell it was a bit like Spanish.

Suddenly a silver platter was settled in front of him and the lid opened to reveal a plate of hardboiled eggs, bread, cheese and ham. He yelped in surprise. “Woah!”

Ruby laughed again. Even Celeste cracked a smile. “You must have grown up in the boonies. You act like you’re in Disney World.” She said, chuckling.

Tigre was already stuffing his face with the bread and eggs and mumbled. “No, I’m from Mexico.”

Celeste shook her head, covering her smile. “I know! What I meant was… you know what? Never mind. It’s nice to meet someone who’s not a sourpuss.”

A sudden hush fell over the dining room and a few students stood up as Lu Mingfei entered accompanied by the members of the Student Union Elite and a beautiful woman walking behind him. “That’s Lu Mingfei, S ranked President of the Student Union. I hear he’s back from killing a real dragon.” Ruby explained in a hush whisper. “I hear he’s the strongest student the College has ever had.”

“Really he did?” Tigre watched in awe. This guy was so quiet and normal and humble, he never imagined that he could have killed a dragon. “I heard he was President of the Student Union. What does that mean?”

“There are many clubs here but two main ones. The Student Union and Lionheart. The Student Union was run by Caesar Gattuso who killed the King of Bronze and Fire two years ago. He passed his club to Lu Mingfei. Lionheart was run by Chu Zihang who killed the King of Earth and Mountains year before last. They had a great rivalry but Lu Mingfei doesn’t seem to be interested in continuing that and Lionheart leadership has been hollowed out. Chu Zihang, Susie, and Lancelot all graduated. They were all the Lionheart elite.”

“Was run? Chu Zihang doesn’t run it any more?”

“No, he graduated recently and was sent on missions. In fact, they’re all graduated now. Caesar is in Rome in the Italy branch.”

Tigre’s chewing slowed and he swallowed. “Graduated… so Chu Zihang doesn’t go here any more…”

“No, he was just here recovering from his last mission. He’ll probably go back to work now that he’s fully recovered.” Porsche shrugged.

He sighed and lowered his eyes. “Oh… he… he didn’t tell me that.”

Celeste’s elegant eyebrow raised. “Why would he tell you that? Do you know him?”

For the first time, Tigre seemed genuinely sad to the sisters. He stopped eating and hung his head. “Yeah. He saved my life.”

“Get out!” Porsche’s eyes were wide in her head. “How did that happen?”

Tigre looked on the verge of tears. “It’s kinda sad but I was not let out of a prison all my life. Chu Zihang broke me out of that prison and that’s how I came here. He gave me a computer tablet. He didn’t say he was leaving.”

The sisters all fixed him with sad serious gazes.

“No wonder you don’t know anything…” Ruby sighed.

“I… I’ll send him a farewell message later I guess.” He mumbled. He understood that Chu Zihang had to leave, but did he have to leave without saying anything? The tablet computer must have been a goodbye gift as well as a welcome gift.

The Smith sister’s eyes all went wide at the same time, like a row of kittens. They were looking behind him and when Tigre turned around, Lu Mingfei was standing behind him.

“All settled in?”

“Yes… sir?” He asked.

“Oh no, not you too with the sir stuff.” Mingfei lamented, one hand on his head.

“I’m sorry I just heard you were the strongest student in Cassell!” Tigre explained quickly.

Lu Mingfei winced slowly and sighed. “Anyway. I wanted to ask you if you’ve settled in alright.”

Tigre nodded. He noticed that all the students in the dining hall were staring at him. Some of them whispered to each other, their eyes fixed on him as they did so.

“I heard Chu Zihang was leaving. Do you know when?” Tigre asked quietly sad.

“Oh… yeah he left last night. He didn’t tell you?” Mingfei’s eyes widened slightly.

Crestfallen, Tigre shook his head.

“Ah… Senior Brother is always like this. He comes and goes without a word and doesn’t understand how that might affect people. He thought a lot of you. Anyway, We can talk later, don’t take it so hard, okay?” He gave Tigre an awkward pat on the shoulder.

The sisters were rendered speechless. Lu Mingfei walked away to the Senior Student’s table where he sat down, surrounded by men in suits as he was served by three separate waiters. It seemed like he was in the lap of luxury, the King of Cassell. Yet, looking at him, Tigre couldn’t help but think that Lu Mingfei was very lonely. He didn’t really talk to the people next to him, just lowered his head and ate like a horse in a stable.

A hand suddenly slammed into his view. “Hey, I’m talking here.”

“Charles Xavier!” Tigre exclaimed.

The boy with dark hair and eyes who challenged him before apparently had been trying to get his attention when he was looking at Lu Mingfei.

“My name’s not ‘Charles Xavier’ I was messing with you!” He wrinkled his nose and glared his eyes down at him. “You know Lu Mingfei? How the hell?”

“I… I met him yesterday after the test. There was a little party at Chu Zihang’s house.” Tigre answered honestly with an owlish expression.

‘Charles Xavier’ massaged the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut like he suddenly had a massive headache. “You were at… Chu Zihang’s party?”

Tigre flinched. “Uh… Yeah… Sorry, if I knew you wanted to go I would have invited you…”

Celeste and her two sisters all lifted their coffee cups in unison and sipped, watching this scene with great pleasure.

‘Charles’ cleared his throat. “Well then… allow me to reintroduce myself. I’m Robert Musonda, of the Musonda copper mining company in Zambia. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh… nice to meet you too.” Tigre accepted the offered hand.

“Have you decided which club you were going to join? I personally have not. I was waiting to see how things were. With all the elites gone, things could go either way. The Student Union could fall, or Lionheart could resurge.”

“I haven’t… really thought of clubs. I…” Tigre looked to Ruby for help. She’d been very helpful so far.

“Lionheart and Student Union were huge rivals before. I think people are expecting that to continue but it doesn’t have to. It depends on leadership. I think Lionheart will really push hard to regain some ground after losing so much to Student Union.” She nodded to him.

Robert Musonda clasped his hands behind his back. “In fact, leadership itself is up for grabs at Lionheart. A lot of freshmen are thinking of going to see if they can snatch the spot. With you being good friends with Mingfei and Chu Zihang, you’d be a shoe in!”

“I wouldn’t call myself good friends… We just met yesterday…”

Robert Musonda leaned forward. “He came over here and greeted you and only you… I call that good friends.” He patted Tigre on the shoulder the same way Lu Mingfei had and dropped his card next to him. “Let’s chat after class.”

Robert sauntered away. His card had a small floral scent but was simple and white with black block lettering of his family business and name along with a phone number and email.

As they were leaving the breakfast hall, Tigre’s tablet computer chimed. When he looked at it, he had a new message in his inbox. “Oh. I got my exam results.”

“Quick check your email!” Celeste exclaimed.

Apparently all the results were posted publicly and at the same time. Students all stopped what they were doing and were looking at their results, heads bowed over their phones. Some students cheered and pumped their fists. Others gave each other high fives. Some students huddled together, giving consoling pats on the back. They were listed in order by last name and, since Tigre didn’t have a last name, the null entry in the last name field put his name right at the top.

Name: Tigre

Resonance Test result: S

Attached to his email was several pages of materials. Based on his ranking, he was afforded a stipend of money. $100,000! He also had a lot of privileges like first pick of meals and he could call the train to take him to Chicago whenever he wanted.

“Congratulations on your high level of Ranking.” It said. “With these privileges also come responsibilities. You are expected to perform at high level in the college in both class attendance and performance. If you fail to perform, you will be downgraded and your privileges will be revoked.”

He looked up at Ruby, relying on her once again for guidance. “What classes do I have?”

“You have to pick your own classes.” She said, with a trembling voice. “I can’t believe you’re S ranked. That’s insane. Are you half dragon?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Tigre shrugged.

Celeste stepped in, pushing Tigre forward. “There’s a link to register for classes. But let’s not do this in the hallway where everyone stares at us.”

She leaned over to him, smiling gently. “So, do you have a roommate yet?”

“Uh… I don’t have a dorm.” He said quietly.

“Then you should stay with us. We’ll help you.” Celeste smiled at him.

“Yeah!” Porsche said, glancing at her Celeste and holding his hand. “We’ll start by registering you for classes and stuff. Do you have anything you need to move?”

“Not… really? Just a few things.” Tigre said nervously as he was herded out of the Dining Hall by the three women.

Ruby clung to his other arm. “Then I’ll help you move!”

“Move? Move where?”

The triplets turned and looked at him with shining brown eyes. They beamed at him, speaking in unison. “To our dorm silly!”

#Dragon Raja

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suncaptor · 4 years

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HUGE SHOUTOUT TO THE PERSON WHO LEFT AN ESSAY ON BELAJO IN THE COMMENT SECTION OF MY UQUIZ. anyways please click readmore if you want to read something that almost brought me to tears. This person is astounding I'm blown away they’re galaxy braining.

anyway so belajo is something that is actually so special to me because we all saw that weird romance plot the writers tried to force on jo and dean right??? we all saw that and felt icky about it??? moving on, we also know bela was a dean mirror. SO okay the reason dean and jo felt so forced and icky and weird I think (besides the actors having NO romantic chemistry) is because jo is a lesbian. LMAO no but fr fr dean always kinda treated jo like a little sister because he had a little brother and it’s the Eldest Daughter Burden Syndrome in him to do so I think. where dean and bela differ is that bela only raised herself, whereas dean helped raise sam, so bela is used to being dangerous and independent etc. without it affecting anyone but herself MEANING where dean tried to baby jo (because she was a girl ((gotta love early spn))? because she was ellen’s kid? because she was new in the hunting world? idk but he felt responsible for her one way or another) bela wouldn’t. SO BASICALLY belajo would be everything deanjo tried to be. both people rough around the edges, self destructive, but where one has too much freedom and a level of confidence that only looks deep from the surface, the other hardly has ANY freedom (or so she thinks because ellen is protective) and confidence that is honestly kind of unfounded for how new she seemed to be at hunting. jo would obviously be game for all of bela’s ridiculous plans and bela wouldn’t patronize jo, rather give her important roles in the plans she makes. my guess is that jo would run into bela on a hunt and they’d butt heads a little bit because O K they’re both stubborn and snarky but they’d end up having to work together and they’d surprise themselves with how good of a team they were making (they wouldn’t say anything at first about it). at the end of the hunt or whatever jo would be the one to give bela her cell number (“incase you find yourself in deep shit again”) and they’d go on with their lives. bela holds onto the number but doesn’t put it in her phone. she doesn’t call either. the next time they see each other it’s another situation where they just happen to be in the same place at the same time. jo is working on a cursed item hunt or something IDFK and bela wants the item to sell or whatever. they’re at some fancy dinner party and bela’s like “you again? can’t get enough, huh?” or something idk sorry I’m literally typing an essay. ANYWAY they work the case exchanging snarky one liners except this one gets intense and it’s one of those Saved At The Last Minute deals. it’s probably bela that goes “guess we make a pretty good team, huh?” and this time they don’t part ways. they get a hotel room together (“I saved your life TWICE! damn right it’s your treat”) and sleep in separate beds it’s all very normal and whatnot because I am a slut for slow burn and it’s ME who is holding YOU captive and making you read my belajo essay so it goes how I say it goes. anyway when they part ways in the morning bela is all blushy and this time it’s Jo with the snarky flirty remarks. bela finally calls jo one day about three weeks later or something (she still doesn’t make jo a contact, and in fact makes a point of fishing her number out of her purse and typing it in her phone every time she needs to call after that) and they work another case together. they work more and more cases together until they literally are just sharing a car looking at each other and going “what’s next?” bela doesn’t tell jo about her demon deal. she almost forgot about it herself, what with the craze of the cases and adrenaline that having a partner in crime comes with. but she doesn’t forget. and she doesn’t say anything either. jo has fully warmed up to bela at this point, all her snarky remarks now tinged with something of adoration. bela’s even met ellen (who took her in immediately, much to jo’s surprise) and ash (who takes a little longer to warm up to her because bela is bela lmao)! jo’s never felt so alive. and it’s not just the adrenaline—it’s bela, who makes her feel like she’s worth something, who she watched shoot out the tires of some guy’s car because she didn’t like the way he was talking to jo (which normally jo would find possessive but something about the way bela did it made her feel safe), who tells jo one night after celebratory drinks that she’s beautiful, and jo’s stomach flips. because when she talks to bela, bela LISTENS. and bela is funny. and smart—UGH SO SMART. and surprisingly handy with a knife. and maybe just a little bit beautiful too. amazing, jo thinks. bela is amazing. and she says so, too, one evening. they’re planning their next move. it’s sticky and convoluted and seemingly impossible until they make a breakthrough. it’s bela that connects the final piece, and she gets that look on her face that says she’s equal parts bewildered and ecstatic. jo says it then—“you’re amazing—“ and it’s the way she says it that makes bela stop in her tracks. the smile melts off her face and she starts shaking her head. she tells jo about the deal then. she has only what like three months left at this point. jo is PISSED. P I S S E D. she leaves bela crying on the bed in the motel room to go for a walk and cool down. it’s pretty intense lmao. she realizes then that she loves her and that’s a terrible terrible terrible feeling. bela is asleep when she gets back to the room. oh god I’ve gotten to the part where it’s only half rendered in my mind but basically blah blah blah jo has ellen and ash and every other hunter she knows looking high and low for ways to save bela. as her time gets shorter and shorter bela gets more and more impulsive and dangerous (“why not? I’m going to hell anyway! I won’t even be around for the consequences :)”) and jo gets more and more frustrated. they have another fight where jo confesses that she can’t lose bela and bela says something along the lines of “you never had me! I was using you the whole time” or something, you know, like a LIAR, and jo tells bela to fuck off, bonus points for an “I hate you,” you know, liKe a LiAr, and she leaves. little does jo know that that would be the last conversation she has with bela before she’s dragged to hell. and of course, it’s jo that finds her in ribbons, a red and white tapestry of blood against the expensive hotel carpet, underneath the chandelier, eyes blown open and limbs splayed out beside her. she was on her way back from the bar, where she walked to with plans to go home with someone else, drink her worries away, etc I guess lmao but she was too nauseous to even go in so she just circled the block a few times before heading back to their room. she opens the door with shaky hands, blinking away the last of her tears, and fully intending to apologize, take it all back, tell her she loved her. instead, well. you know. anyway so OBVIOUSLY bela comes back. idk how but she does she HAS to because I need a happy or bittersweet ending or whatever but yeah I haven’t even placed the next pieces yet. they change each other for the better obviously too. bela allows herself to be vulnerable and heals through some of her trauma and jo grows as a hunter and strategist, and understands more of what it’s like to be protective over someone. even ellen grows to trust jo more on her own especially with bela, who ellen (who is definitely is NOT someone to dote but) grows more and more fond of. it’s found family. it’s hesitant allies to hesitant friends to best friends to widow to awkward I-can’t-believe-you’re-back-I-don’t-know-what’s-allowed to best friends again to LOVERS awwwwwwwwwww

#I am leaving this anonymous until I get permission to @ them #belajo #spn #supernatural #bela talbot #bela #jo harvelle #jo #incoherents

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what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me · 4 years

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The Best Laid Plans

> Chapter 1: The Sighting< Chapter 2

Summary:

Five of the finest minds that Planet Earth has to offer are brought together by a mission that will forever live in history. They are the crew of Humanity's paragon starship and they pave the way for future explorers.

The mission goes wrong when the existence of sentient aliens is confirmed.

AO3

Notes: this fic is inspired by the concept of Among Us, but you don’t need to know the game to enjoy this story. CW: anxiety attack

The announcement that Humanity was done being alone was met with skepticism. Such an ambitious but vague mission statement made by the government seemed like an empty promise.

Thomas remembered where he was when he saw it. It was a fall afternoon, during the slow lull between lunch and dinner, the TV in the corner was on the news channel. Thomas ended up joking with his coworkers about shaking hands with aliens while working at a coffee shop to pay off college debt. They all laughed and forgot about it because preparing for the next influx of customers was more important.

The promise of The Day Dream did not seem like much until the ship began to be built. Then there were whispers of scouts visiting every small town and city, looking for any suitable candidates to join the crew. That was when he - and all of humanity - got swept up into the high.

Everybody on Earth began paying attention to the exploration program, excitement for the future in those times was so common you could smell it in the air. By the time The Day Dream launched, everybody could tell you that they remembered where they were. There was more news coverage of their starship leaving the snaring grip of the atmosphere than the first moon landing.

If Thomas ever got the opportunity, he would joke that he remembered the launch as if he were a pilot on the starship.

Thomas, in his humble opinion, believed it took a different kind of person to drive a spaceship than it took to build one. Just getting something off of Earth was a feat that took hundreds of years. What got them this far was perfecting and going beyond the work of other humans long dead. Amassing a hoard of refined science until they made a tower of knowledge that could reach the stars.

And Humanity did reach the stars. He was their cherry-picked ambassador. It was his job to lead the mission to create a stable bridge for future space farers. Both in the literal and diplomatic sense. Thomas still could not believe the honor was his.

But the Captain's disbelief is besides the point. The engineers and scientists who made The Day Dream were a brilliant crew who did not get enough recognition. The marvel of it all lie in how alive the ship felt. It felt so human. The engineers and the scientists outdid themselves.

The question the build team had to tackle was how to make long term space travel enjoyable. Was it possible to make a hollow metal vessel feel more like home than their planet ever was? All Thomas knows is during the short time he has been the pilot, he had concluded the answer must be yes. That is where the recognition fell short, Thomas thinks. Despite being hailed as a genius by Earth's media, his mind could not even begin to figure out how they did it.

Too bad the media was strictly forbidden from even looking at the ship. If they could not experience the wonder for themselves, there was no reason to write about it. To them it was just a glorified vessel, not unlike any other means of transport. Snooping into the lives of its personnel was more tangible for the press. Usually more rewarding too.

The press had been suffocating. Thomas was relieved to be off that planet.

There was nothing remarkable about him. Or anybody else here, he likes to think to himself. They are all wonderful people to be traveling with, brilliant minds, but not remarkable. Because he is as Human as the rest of them, and the pedestal they perched him on was one of sand. Just the lightest breeze and he will be lost to time.

Now that he is living out every child's wildest dream, he knows. The Day Dream 's crew and their prestigious schooling meant nothing to the universe. But it was an honor to get to know the universe a bit better nonetheless.

The ship woke it's Captain up with a gentle chime.

And when Thomas did not get up the first time, the ship brightened the lights in his room. Very suddenly.

That got Thomas' attention. The Day Dream could not do more than follow the alarms already set, unless something major triggered the override system. There were no klaxon alarms or notifications marked as urgent, so Permission from another administrator was needed for the lights to turn on. That meant the ship snitched on him to somebody already awake. Dream is getting smarter, Thomas laughed to himself. And this ship is full of traitors who think eight in the morning is an acceptable time to be awake.

Jokes about betrayal aside, he knew there would at least be fresh caffeine waiting in the cafeteria.

Thomas got out of the warm sleeping pod with a stretch that popped his back. The metal floors in his quarters were heated, but only enough to starve off frostbite. The cold making his toes curl woke up Thomas better than the lights. A chime from his com ringed across the room, listing duties for the day. He assured the ship that he would be present for the breakfast meeting requested by Roman in a timely manner.

His loose definition of "timely manner" was to allow an optimal window to collect thoughts and set his 187th day in space up for success. The captain played music from home as he got ready. The bathroom was like every other room; spacious, clean, and bursting with plant life. The air never felt stuffy and the crew suspects (Patton, who was on the ship's build team, confirmed) it was designed that way. To help with homesickness.

The Day Dream was huge. Excessively so. The ship was only meant to only house five humans long term - and maybe, just maybe, any extraterrestrial life they will come across. For now, the rooms set aside for any new life would be empty. That meant some days, when everyone was too busy to spend time with anybody else, it felt like the plants growing in every nook and cranny of the rooms and hallways were his only companions. But business was business. And at the end of the day, nobody held it against each other. Today thankfully would not be like that.

Thomas pulled on the boots of his pristine white jumpsuit before he left his quarters. The doors locked behind him with a pneumatic hiss and the hall lights flicked on, illuminating his path one by one. There was a spring in his step as he made way through the maze of tall hallways. He barely acknowledged the sound of running water and smell of earth on either side of the metal path. The self sustained irrigation system was always at work, and with the wildflowers that started to bloom recently as a result in this part of the ship, any irritation was rendered null.

He arrived at the cafeteria where it was quiet, besides the ever present humming and the drip drip drip of the ship running itself. The caffeine dispenser had been preheated. Logan and Roman seemed to have already got to it. Virgil could do with the energizing benefit of caffeine if it was not for his anxiety disorder. Both crewmates were lounging in padded seats, a steaming cup in one hand and green flashing screens taking the rest of their attention. Thomas guessed they were reviewing the information about the meeting he was called for. Virgil, who seemed not to be fully awake yet, was slowly picking off the contents of his ration packet.

"Where is Patton?" He flushed slightly at the outburst. Asking that before anything else was not his intention.

Luckily nobody seemed to mind. Logan and Virgil turned their heads to him and acknowledged the captain with a good morning. Closing out of the menu, Logan answered, "I believe he was sanctioned an extra sleep cycle after the extended work he did last night. The ship refuses to go through the wake up procedures."

He lifted an eyebrow. "I don't think I ever gave the order for that. But The Day Dream can override an order if it seems necessary. What the hell was Patton doing last night?"

"He was helping me in the final stages of building the gate."

Thomas turned to look at Roman. "He-," that was not supposed to be possible. "The gate is supposed to be done next month, our fabricator can't work that fast."

"That's what I thought at first! But two weeks ago while helping me troubleshoot a problem, he found our combined efforts cleaved the build time in half!"

Virgil chimed in, like it was news to him, "That's great, Princey. But how are we sure the quality was not compromised?"

"I'm so glad you asked bec-"

Logan cut Roman off. "We are sure because I have been keeping a close eye on the progress and have taken sporadic samples of the material. I also use the ship to ensure my analysis has no human errors."

"You'll have to send those numbers to me for final approval before we tell Mission Control. But this is amazing news! Why is this the first time i have heard about this?"

Suddenly Logan lost any confidence he had, and needed to pull up a screen again. Virgil deadpan looked at him and shrugged, going back to picking at his rations. Thomas managed to catch Roman's eyes and he cringed slightly, picking at his nails. "Well… we thought you would be angry that we didn't follow orders."

Thomas lifted a hand to his heart without registering that it happened. They thought that he would be angry? He never has shown that emotion to them then why? Was there a power imbalance here? Were they afraid of him or just the consequences of "disobedience". Of course, he always encouraged his crew to pursue and perfect science, just like the builders of the ship did. As long as nobody got hurt-

-and then he remembered about Patton. Why would the ship override a wake up protocol, especially if ordered by anybody, if there was not a reason? But he could not… Jumping to conclusions would not help.

He sighed, Roman tensed but Thomas did not acknowledge it. "I'm not angry, Ro. You did a fantastic job."

"So we won't get punished?" It was small, hopeful.

"At most, you will be reprimanded with a tighter schedule, but that will be determined after investigation."

An investigation was not something he needed on his plate but apparently was now mandatory. Thomas did not want to say it out loud, but based on what he can tell, if the crew let Patton overwork himself, the strict schedule might go through. Like it or not, the existing schedule was in place for a reason and having his copilot out of commission could spell disaster for the mission and it's crew. The ship felt so safe, so much like home, but they were at the mercy of a cruel universe, anything can go wrong.

Yet the small smile that broke out on Roman's face after getting his praise was too good to ruin.

Thomas would indulge in a moment of weakness and lie.

He only realised there was tension in the room when the air slowly became more breathable. He let himself enjoy a warm drink from the dispenser and his own share of rations before getting to work. He had the mind to have one of the ship's drones deliver food and drink to Patton's room to have when he woke up. Then Thomas glanced at the data himself. All the numbers and samples that Logan had run seemed to be perfect. He ran through the calculations manually himself to be sure. Still perfect.

So it was off to Mission Control. The message explained that his crew found a way to make the Star Gate mission more efficient. Surely, this was another thing they would be praised about. All of it was almost done.

"Roman, Mission Control has the data tables now. All we need to do is the final inspection before we can set course to Moon Titan." Thomas broke the news in a sing-song voice. Everybody in the room grew visibly excited. Thomas was almost sad that Patton was not here to complete their little crew.

"That is fantastic!"

Logan hesitated before asking, "Was my work adequate to your standards?"

Thomas nodded enthusiastically, "It had no errors I could catch, so you did great, Teach." The captain could have left it there, but he was feeling as exuberant as the rest of them. "In matter of fact, do you want to begin the system checks so we can be ahead of schedule for the journey to Moon Titan?" The gleam in Logan's eyes spoke volumes more than the affirmative confirmation he gave. Virgil had jumped at the opportunity to join and the two ventured off into the expansive halls of the ship.

Roman was already at Thomas's heels when the two men left the room. "Do you want me to escort you to the hull of the ship? I believe you have a date with my wonderful creation."

Thomas could not hide his admittedly dopey smile if he wanted to. This man and his dramatics did a lot to keep the ship lively. He accepted the offer, and let Roman do most of the talking while they descended through the guts of the ship. Plant life slowly became less abundant and the mechanical whirls and pulses became louder. When they stopped at the door of a decontamination chamber, Roman gestured to a wall of headsets.

"Personal protective equipment is mandatory past this point," Roman said, an apologetic smile on his face.

Thomas did not comment on the fact that Roman added a personal touch to his headset. The paint was a vibrant red and the acrylic of the earmuffs seemed to glow. His own pair was only cold and metallic, and Thomas briefly noted he had no idea how long ago Roman added those changes. He could see in the cabinet that Patton had a similar headset, but in the teal color he loved so much. He would have to have The Day Dream permit more time in this part of the ship.

Today was a successful day but something unsavory was settling into his core. Thomas was a bit out of the loop with his crew, he was starting to realize.

He swallowed down the inklings of a bitter taste and turned to the cabinet containing more mandatory protective wear. He would not take it personally. He slipped a hazmat suit over the jumpsuit. Thomas and the rest of the crew were just coworkers. Black gloves slipped over his sleeves and closed with a snap! They were all friendly, sure, but this was a science expedition, not a family road trip. The spotless boots he normally wore were left in one of the lockers, swapped out for steel toe boots. If his happy-go-lucky mood had suddenly dropped he did nothing to fix it.

Thomas followed Roman into the decontamination lock without a word.

As they exited, Roman clapped his hands and he saw the walls come alive around him. This area was lined with pods containing work assistant androids lit up and awaiting commands. His crewmate fiddled with a personal command key secured on his wrist, the assistants moved in synch around their feet, opening the doors to the hull. It was a massive room, bigger than most warehouses on Earth. It was perfectly suited for projects this size and storing the raw materials needed to make the Star Gates.

Hung on the ceiling of the room was the largest fabricator on the ship. Other smaller ones were littered about in rooms like that cafeteria and navigation, but were only capable of producing small objects. The machine, though modeled after a vintage 21st century machine called a 3D printer, was cutting edge. All it needed was raw material and a recipe to follow. On a raised platform below it lay the gate.

"I always forget how massive these are in person," Thomas breathed reverently. The smallest section was the length of a school bus, and sprawled much further than that.

"We put a Star Gate up on the Moon not even three months ago, Sir," Roman laughed. Thomas crossed his arms in mock anger, making Roman laugh more.

He had a point, though. Before The Day Dream is permitted to leave the solar system, it is their job to leave gates. Not every spaceship is created equal, only government sanctioned ships are allowed to have a warp core. Warp cores allow for a ship to change the very fabric of space around a ship, changing the location instantaneously. Teleportation is the unofficial name for it. But space travel would be too slow even if they had learned how to go beyond the speed of light.

The solution had been Star Gates. These opened up worm holes for ships that did not have access to warping. The gates were to be left at popular destinations. A trip to the moon that might have taken six months only took an hour. Soon a trip to Moon Titan, which revolved around Saturn, was in order. The possibility that it might contain life made it a hotspot for researchers. Their final goal was to leave a gate at Pluto, then the true expedition could begin. Once the path for other explorers is paved, The Day Dream will be allowed to search for sentient life. For now they were to travel with solar sails while waiting for each gate to be built.

Roman pointed Thomas to a messy desk, "Your checklist should be on there." Thomas, however, was lost. He opted to watch as Roman walked up to a group of assistants drones and dismissed them. The new ones that followed Roman and Thomas in picked up on the work as the old ones backed into charging ports. As they met eyes, he shook his head in a gesture he hoped communicated his confusion.

Roman got the memo, because he jogged to where Thomas stood, looking over his shoulder. He leaned into Thomas' shoulder to pick up the empty report and handed Thomas the tablet with a flourish. The almost-contact felt nice. Thomas made a mental note to ask Mission Control about the correlation between space travel and being touch starved.

There was not time to linger on that though, because Roman was too ecstatic to wait. He personally showed Thomas the work that he and Patton had done. Every individual thing he crossed out on the list pointed to a success. Two hours spent inspecting seams, double checking wiring, and doing strength tests went by without notice and soon Thomas forgot about any bad mood he was in because it was done!

"I can't wait to deliver this to Mission Control!"

Roman was not quite used to seeing the captain as anything other than a collected leader, but this change was good. "So we passed the final inspection?"

"With flying colors."

His smile brightened. "I bet we should start preparing for our warp to Moon Titan."

Thomas gave his approval, and Roman started to conduct the service drones around him like a symphony. Mission Control replied minutes later and Thomas knew everybody who was not occupied saw that the clearance to warp had been granted. As the complete Star Gate was being pushed to the path that lead to the bay, he waved Roman goodbye.

He walked back through the decontamination chamber and set the protective gear he had been wearing into a bin for specific cleaning. Setting his appearance back into place did not take long, and soon he was led away from the smell of grease and metal to the more comforting crisp air of the upper levels.

Logan appeared by his side just a moment later. "I have the results of the diagnostics scan ready for you, Sir."

"Are we all clear?"

"Sadly not." Logan shook his head and turned a tablet for him to look at. "The lower right corner of the starboard solar sail has significant damage."

"I bet it was stray debris," Thomas shifted on his feet before asking, "Can we go without it?"

Logan hated to be the bearer of bad news, "We can, but our navigation route will need to be recalculated completely."

It made sense, Thomas thought. Even subtle shifts in angle can land them in a completely different location then intended. He thought about it a little longer. "I think we should fix the problem now, the Moon Titan base won't miss an extra day without us."

"Yes sir. I'll send Roman a request to prepare the right materials for the patch. Do you know who is to accompany you on the space walk?"

Thomas shook his head. Logan took the screen back from Thomas to open up the schedule log. "Patton would have been ideal, but he is still out of commission. I recommend Virgil."

In half of a day, they were ready. It was easy for Thomas to report the damage reports to Mission Control, to state they wish to run repairs before anything else, and for the approval for the small mission to be granted.

For the second time that day, Thomas went through the task of putting on personal protective wear, but joined by Virgil and a lifeless service drone. The solar sail patch and other needed tools were handled by the drone. Thomas knew the ship better than the medic did, so he and the drone would be the one doing most of the work. Virgil was to be the one communicating with Mission Control so Thomas could focus and he was a second pair of eyes to ensure nothing went wrong.

Virgil probably was the one who took this task the most serious, only bested by Logan. Soon enough, the small group was seen out of the airlock by Logan and Roman, and the repairs were under way.

Virgil knew space walks were consequential. If he lost focus at the wrong moment there was every possibility he could end up drifting in space. If Thomas noticed in time, he could have Logan or Roman retrieve him by using one of the smaller ships in the bay. But that possibility weighed heavily on a " if".

Every space walk before this one went off without a hitch. But Virgil's stomach was turning uncomfortably and his ears were straining to pick up anything.

He knew sound can not travel in space.

Pesky instincts were screaming that something was wrong. He needed to pay attention, be alert and ready to fight. Protect himself, The Day Dream , and all the lives within it. Something bigger, smarter than him was lurking in the unforgiving void behind him. A predator, surely, with steps quiet as a leopard midhunt, and a maw stronger than any alligator. That means twice as painful. Three times as ruthless. The crowning crux of slaughter machines, delivered to the doorstep of the spaceship by Mother Nature herself and her sick sense of humor.

But when he turned around, the only thing he was was Thomas crouched over the massive solar sail, the ship under his feet, and the stars.

It might be just anxiety. Might. No, is. It has to be just anxiety. He should trust his eyes. Because he knows his mind is not rational when he gets like this. He will not think normal until it passes. He will not because it is impossible. Something is wrong. What is making him like this? This morning Virgil did not intake any caffeine, and his nutrition logs of the rest of the day indicate no other food-born anxiety stimulates. He even took the anxiety suppressant prescribed by his therapist on Earth this morning, like every morning before.

Nothing is wrong. Why does he feel so unsafe? He does not like it, he does not like the fear for his life-

He was spiraling. His vision blanked and he did not register Thomas' questioning voice over the com. Virgil's senses did not register in the moment, except for smell. Because this smell was out of place. The instinct was right, right, rIgHt . Somet h in g waS wRoNG. Was his suit breached? Oh stars have mercy he was going to die right here, wasn't he? The foreign scent of ozone filled his suit a split second before he felt it.

ZAP!

Then… nothing.

Well nothing was not the right word for it, because there was his beating heart and the sound of blood rushing through his own body. It was the shock of everything feeling regular again. Like a reset button was pressed. The universe must have felt merciful today for that alien feeling did not hurt. It felt wrong, invasive. Very much like burning and bright electricity had just reached into every crevice of his body. The feeling was uninvited and deeply intrusive. But it did not hurt.

He was so shocked in that moment he forgot about that spiral before it came back. He could feel Thomas by his side, a hand on his shoulder. Despite the fog of an anxiety creeping into his system, it was strangely grounding.

"-gil, this is my final time requesting this. If you do not answer me now then we have to null this mission."

That was Thomas. Not invasive ozone-electricity from the stars, his mocking self doubt, or a intrusive thought deadset on letting him break. It was his captain, a man he trusted. His authoritative voice rang through a speaker in his helmet, not even a hint of static. And he wanted an answer, right. "I'm present, sir. Sorry."

The relief in Thomas' heart was tangible. Though he knew Virgil could not see through the glare of the visor, he smiled for him anyways. He had been worried! The captain moved closer and held his hand over the vitals monitor on Virgil's suit. Virgil did not push him away so he started the mandatory scan. "I'm glad to have you back. We need to check your vitals and suit systems before proceeding with anything."

"Sorry, sir. I believe I had an anxiety attack," he explained with an unsteady voice. "My senses didn't register except for a weird smell. Ozone, I think? And I felt a weird zap before I got over it."

Thomas encouraged the explanation. They would go over the audio logs later and archive this incident. Any possible suit malfunctions needed to be reported to Mission Control. Then they would report it to Roman, who will use the fabricator to replace the faulty one. These reports are endless, Thomas thought, tired. It did not end there. If they expended those resources, they would need to get more raw materials. That was all in a day's work, though. Maybe he could get Virgil off of the space walk roster if being out of the ship was a trigger. While a pleasure to work with, his mental health came first to convenience.

He was reading off the screen now. "Your adrenaline levels are spiked, but that is expected. Your hormones outside of stress response are normal. The O2 levels in your blood are normal. You have six hours of oxygen left in your tank. All the circuits are operational-"

"Thomas!" Virgil's voice ran in through the coms, an uncharacteristically urgent tone ringing in his ears. It threw him for a loop and he did not answer fast enough. The results of Virgil's vital scans were all positive, did he say something to make it worse? And then again, louder, "Thomas, please!"

"Is... everything alright?"

"No! Yes? I- um, Maybe?"

A trickle of unease settled deep in the Captain's core. "What is going on?"

"I think I saw something flying, and I don't- We need to go back inside, Thomas please. I can't do this right now."

He listened.

The mission was called null right then and there and he picked up a few pieces of the repair kit with a haste to satisfy his crewmate. The repair drone was following behind them, unaffected by the events.

But the strangest feeling ran through his body when he reached his hand out to Virgil.

He let out a gasp in surprise, and Virgil heard it over the still connected com link. It was the gentle tickle of electric curiously dancing in and out of every nook and cranny of his body. It was quizzical, and embodied a researcher like him.

As it left, he swore the smell of ozone lingered in his suit and that he too saw something move in the corner of his eye. The shape of a black triangle. Massive and looming and definitely not natural and definitely something he was scared of. He could only tell it was there because the stars disappeared behind it. A row of lights flickered on, and Thomas was paralyzed. Virgil had seen it too, but responded by dragging his stupefied captain to the airlock with unprecedented urgency.

It was gone suddenly as it came.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides fic #platonic lamp #patton sanders mention #space au #alien au #among us #humans are space orcs

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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How Malignant’s Monster Calls Back to Stephen King

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This Malignant article contains spoilers.

Malignant has a twist so wild you need to see it to believe it. Seriously, stop reading right now if you have even the faintest interest in watching James Wan‘s latest horror offering. You really don’t want to spoil this for yourself. Sure, you’ll either really love or absolutely hate the movie’s batshit third act, but the experience of watching the twist for the first time is worth the price of admission.

If you have watched the movie, maybe you left as astonished as I did. After all, the first two thirds of the movie play like a standard giallo-inspired slasher film before things go completely off the rails. You might say that some of the clues were there all along — indeed they are, maybe you saw this coming from a mile away — but when you thought you’d put it all together, did you really expect Wan to go through with something so ridiculous? I certainly said, “No, that can’t be it” to myself midway through the movie when the clues started adding up. It’s a new direction for Wan to be sure…

But Wan’s first trip into a new sub-genre of horror isn’t necessarily without outside influence. There’s a bit of David Cronenberg mixed with hints of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but for the most obvious inspiration you have to look to the King of Horror himself.

Before we talk about Stephen King, you might be wondering what the hell was going on with Gabriel in the first place.

Gabriel Origin Explained

Safari Riot’s cover of the classic Pixies song “Where Is My Mind” seems so out of place when it first blasts through a scene in the movie, an over-the-top accompaniment to what seems like your standard slasher flick, but it’s actually incredibly appropriate — not just for the massive tone shift but the plot itself. (“Where Is My Mind” is also the iconic tune that accompanies the final scene of Fight Club, another tale of split personalities.) Madison’s (Annabelle Wallis) mind has been playing tricks on her (and the audience) the entire time. She thinks her creepy childhood imaginary friend Gabriel has somehow taken corporeal form and started murdering everyone who had a hand in “separating” him from her. But little does Madison know that the separation was much more literal than her simply forgetting a figment of her imagination when her baby sister Syndey (Maddie Hasson) was born.

It’s Sydney who discovers the truth when she goes back to the institution where Madison spent her early childhood before being adopted by their mother Jeanne (Susanna Thompson). In the basement of the abandoned Simion Research Hospital, Sydney finds the harrowing tapes that reveal Madison’s past with her “imaginary friend.”

Madison was born Emily May to a 15-year-old girl named Serena (Jean Louise Kelly as an adult, Madison Wolfe as a teen) who is forced to give her away to the institution by her mother due to Emily’s…medical condition. In a stunningly gruesome sequence of body horror, we learn that Emily was born with a parasitic twin attached to her head and spinal cord, which allows it to control her movements and thoughts. The doctors at Simion at first diagnose Gabriel as a “massive teratoma,” a malignant tumor that can grow with fully developed organs and tissue, but as we see in the movie’s opening sequence, they soon learn that this is something much worse and decide to cut him out off of Emily for good.

But they can’t get rid of Gabriel completely. Because the siblings attached at the brain, the doctors are forced to remove as much of Gabriel as they can, hiding what’s left inside her skull. Of course that means that Gabriel never truly goes away. He continues to speak to Emily, now Madison, from inside her head, at one point almost convincing her to kill Jeanne while pregnant with Sydney.

While Madison eventually forgets her “imaginary friend” as an adult, Gabriel returns after Madison’s piece of shit husband Derek (Jake Abel) brutally slams her head against a wall during an altercation. (Let’s just say I’m glad he’s dead.) The injury reawakens what’s left of Gabriel, who can reemerge through her head wound to control and contort Madison’s body and go on his killing spree. Madison experiences these murders as visions, as she watches her sibling slash his way through all the doctors that tried to destroy him as well as the mother who gave him away in the first place. Madison’s only able to stop him after he’s already massacred a police station full of cops and prisoners and made his way to the hospital to kill Sydney and Serena. Using the mental link she has with Gabriel, Madison manages to lock her sibling away, promising that next time he reemerges, she’ll “be ready for him,” setting up an inevitable sequel and a new horror franchise for Wan.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Gabriel and the Dark Half

Constant Readers will undoubtedly spend the weekend pointing out that Gabriel’s plot to control his sister in order to go on a murder spree is very reminiscent of one of Stephen King’s most famous books and movies, The Dark Half. The book and the movie directed by the late, great George A. Romero tells the story of Thad Beaumont (played by Timothy Hutton in the film), a writer of literary fiction in a bit of a slump by day. But he has a far more successful career by night as the author of dark crime novels under the pen name “George Stark.” Yet, the success of his Stark books feels like a curse to Thad, who is driven to heavy drinking and other vices when “the spell” of Stark’s prose. Now, a recovering alcoholic, Thad wishes to leave Stark behind and just write the literary fiction his agent and editor deem “boring.”

When the truth about Thad’s pen name comes out, the writer sees the perfect way to bury his career as George Stark once and for all — by throwing his pseudonym an actual funeral at the local cemetery. But Mr. Stark doesn’t like that very much. Thad’s pen name inexplicably “rises from the grave” to kill everyone he blames for his death — Thad’s editor, agent, and more.

You’re probably thinking it was Thad all along, but this is more than just another case of split personalities. Like in Wan’s latest, Stark was once actually very real, the sibling Thad absorbed in utero…except for a couple of teeth and an eye living inside of Thad’s brain. The “tumor” is removed from Thad’s head as a child, but he’s somehow unknowingly kept the spirit of his sibling alive through the books he writers, undoubtedly under Stark’s dark influence. It’s the kind of gory, supernatural twist King is best known for, and Wan sets out to celebrate the book with style. Mind you, this obviously isn’t a direct adaptation of King’s work but more like a spiritual successor to the book that pushes the plot much further into the ridiculous than even the writer did in 1989. Leave it to Wan to dream up an action sequence where a backwards (literally), contorting serial killer stabs his way through a building full of people to the sound of shredding guitars.

Even if you think Malignant‘s third act twist is an absolute mess, I’d argue it’s at least an interesting mess, a daring experiment in a corner of the horror genre we’ve not seen enough of in the past few years. Will this experiment lead to a new movement in body horror movies just as Saw for better or worse inspired years of “torture porn” movies and The Conjuring brought us the horror expanded universe? That remains to be seen. At the very least, Malignant is the kind of movie you’ll want to debate about with your friends as you exit the theater, even if it’s just to say you absolutely hated the twist. Aren’t you at least glad you saw it for yourself? The twist just isn’t as good on paper.

Malignant is out now in theaters and streaming on HBO Max.

The post How Malignant’s Monster Calls Back to Stephen King appeared first on Den of Geek.

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rvmmm21 · 4 years

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. i think he likes you back .

summary : joohyun is tired of hearing seungwan go on and on about this wonderful, attractive senior she’s head over heels for. joohyun wants a name, and she knows exactly how to get it out of her, no matter how much Seungwan wants to keep it a secret.

requested : yes, by rvmmm21 to rvmmm21.

note : oh wow, is this my wenrene niche? do i have a soft spot for nervous, spluttering wendy and (big)tease, soft dom irene? oh, i don’t know... but this was ?fun-ish? smut practice nonetheless. i still cringed though, working hard on my plotless smut. i’ll proofread it like later or smth i’m gonna sleep now.

[(soft)dom!irene x wendy]

...

“… and I like him.”

“A name, Wan-ah, I need a name… come on…” Joohyun insists, dropping her pen and herself onto the bed next to the younger girl, incomplete pie charts and bar graphs surrounding them both.

I mean, yes, she could very easily bite the bullet and tell Seungwan that she, too, wishes to see them as more than just friends, that she’s been waiting for the chance to… deepen their bond. Or that she already knows that this infamous heartthrob senior Seungwan has an undying crush on is, in fact, her.

But really, what’s the fun in that?

They’d talked about crushes before. Far too much, in all honesty. Ask all the missed deadlines and turning up to class halfway through it. Oh, and Joohyun’s now a pro at flattening knowing grins and keeping her eyes from rolling skywards from all the times she’s had to do it when Seungwan was in one of her particularly ‘gushy’ moods. The senior she’s wholeheartedly in love with.

Senior as in a boy senior, of course, and definitely not Bae Joohyun.

“Oh unnie, he’s so good-looking… but – but you’ll never guess who it is.”

“His legs… his hair… he’s so pretty and… I don’t know, I think about what it would be like to… to kiss him and – and ugh, just kinda everything, you know?”

“… but – but seriously, you’ll never guess… I mean… so don’t even try.”

Joohyun could write a novel, at this point, with how much information she’s gathered on this mysterious senior no one else but Seungwan seems to know about. It’s the fine print, really. The little details like how smooth his fingers are when he tucks a spidery velvet lock of hair behind his ear, how she can just tell he’ll make a great partner because of how he well he listens; things that are far too in-depth and descriptive for someone who’s supposedly admiring from afar, for someone’s who’s never actually spoken to him.

Oh, and don’t even get her started on the number of times this ‘boy’ has been referred to as ‘she’.

“So?” Joohyun blatantly peers, head cocked and eyebrow quirked, “I’m sick of hearing about it. Are you going to tell me or what?”

“… I-I can’t, unnie, it… it’s a secret…”

There we go, that A-class excuse – ‘It’s a secret’.

Oh no you don’t, Joohyun thinks, not this time. She’s not letting Seungwan slither out of this one like she’s very poorly managed to slither out all those other times.

She casts the younger girl (who seems hell-bent on keeping her mouth shut) a look of determination, and receives one right back, doubled in intensity, if not a little fragile round the edges.

Fine, be like that, Joohyun thinks. She’ll pry that name from those lips… oh yes, she will… even if it has to come after a plethora of… other noises.

Joohyun sneers, edging closer to the girl who’s a few seconds away from releasing white puffs of steam from her ears. “Honestly, I kinda like how you try so hard. Unless you’re just playing dumb… Wan-ah, you don’t think I’m stupid, do you? This lover-boy of yours clearly doesn’t exist.”

Well… not like that. ‘He’ may not… but ‘she’, on the other hand, very much does.

Seungwan feels those very familiar cherry-blossom petals sear into her cheeks at how close Joohyun is. Suddenly, everything is amplified. Suddenly, she’s hyper aware of how she’s twitching, holding back from just leaning forward and connecting them both… or how she’s now caged in by her definitely-not crush, back against the headboard with absolutely nowhere to go.

She has to let out a nervous chuckle, if only to distract from her raging blush. “… unnie, I… he does exist… he’s –”

She’s cut off. Seungwan’s eyes bulge out before fluttering closed when she feels a pair of velvety lips against her own. There’s a lively tinge of strawberry-burst lip balm exchanged from Joohyun’s mouth to hers, and her lips are already tingling by the time the older girl pulls away.

“… w-wha – what was… that?” she finally manages, going stiff when she sees that sinful smile on her unnie’s otherwise innocent face.

“Now you know,” Joohyun replies, licking her lips, savouring the taste of inexperience and cherry liquorice – with a slight aftertaste of denial, of course. Although that’s nothing she can’t fix.

Seungwan couldn’t look more confused… or guilty.

“… know –” she gulps, not knowing how she could say anything that wouldn’t immediately give her away, “– know what?”

“What it’s like to kiss him.”

Seungwan’s eyes go wide again. Her brain short-circuits, and she jolts forward. “Unnie!”

But Joohyun splays a hand against her chest, gently easing her back onto the pillows. Seungwan knows the she intended the gesture to soothe her nerves, but it only succeeds in firing her up twice as much. Still, she’s mute, unwilling to believe this is actually happening.

“I bet you want to know everything about him, don’t you –”

Oh? Joohyun’s hands are inching their way under her skirt. Oh? What’s she doing?

“– I bet you want to know what he can do… to you. Hm?”

Seungwan whimpers down at the pretty fingers now caressing her against the damp fabric of her panties, stroking her slit with practiced precision. Oh no. No, no, no… this is so bad. She can’t possibly feel how wet she is, can she? That dewy heat had been radiating at her core the entire time, but she really didn’t think she’d have it revealed to the one person she was trying her best to hide it from.

Joohyun simply smirks up at her, poised as ever. “You’re thinking about him now, aren’t you?”

When Seungwan stays silent, Joohyun pushes herself up and leans over to give her a kiss on the cheek. And then her other one, and one on the corner of her lips, her forehead, her nose and her right ear. Her fingers never move from between her legs.

“Aren’t you?” she repeats, breath tickling the shell of her ear.

Of course I am, Seungwan confesses to herself.

It’s like an out-of-body experience, when Joohyun grasps her by the arms and scooches them towards the edge of the bed, grabbing one of the pillows and propping it up behind her. Ah yes, there’s that fine print in action again, in a very live setting, this time. She knows this can’t end well for her, but there’s something about Bae Joohyun, the girl she’s had very... descriptive dreams about, on her knees before her. It grants her the near perfect illusion of being in control.

But then that naughty shimmer in those flawless eyes reminds her she really, really isn’t.

The older girl smoothly hooks her fingers into the waistband of her panties, pushing her bottom up and giving them a swift tug down past her hips. Despite the scorching humiliation, Seungwan complies, shifting up so Joohyun’s job is easier. Her fingertips leave trails of warmth down her skin and she can only watch as her underwear is chucked gracelessly over her shoulder.

“You want to know what he’s like in bed...”

Even almost fully clothed, Seungwan feels more naked than she’s ever felt before. She inhales sharply when she feels a brief pressure on her clit, instinctively trying to draw her knees together, but with Joohyun in between them, it’s impossible to. So she resorts to laying back, resting her weight on her elbows, helpless to whatever Joohyun has in store for her.

“You want to know how well he can take you.”

A finger dips into the wetness it finds and the younger girl gasps, feeling herself leak even more when it draws lazy little circles around her clit. Not on it, just around it. If she didn’t know any better, Seungwan would think she’s doing this on purpose, deliberately not touching her where she wants – needs. It’s unfortunate that Joohyun’s maddening teasing rendered her unable to speak, because she really needs to ask for more.

“… p-please… touch… touch harder…” she tries, not caring at how pathetic that sounds.

Joohyun smiles.

“Touch harder where?”

The embarrassed squeak she receives in reply gives her a pretty good idea, though.

“Harder… here?” She asks, sliding her fingers back into her core. Seungwan whimpers. “Or… here?”

A thumb on her sensitive clit rubs slow, firm circles, and it’s the direct contact Seungwan’s been longing for since they began. She’s being filled and fucked so well, it doesn’t take long before it’s unravelling that knot in her gut and she can’t help voicing her relief, all her muscles tensing at the sheer pleasure. “… oh, oh – oh my gosh, unnie…”

“Feel good, Wannie?”

‘Good’ doesn’t do it justice, especially not after she’s been teased out of her mind like that. Her hips are rocking against the fingers pumping in and out of her, trying to get them to go even harder, faster.

“I’m going to make you cum, Wannie,” she hums, “unnie’s going to make you cum on her fingers, okay?”

She sure as hell is. It’s already bubbling to the surface. Joohyun’s about to make her spill over, tip her over that edge, have her falling apart with her two fingers hitting her g-spot perfectly, with her thumb against her clit, that wonderful ache clouding her sensibilities so she can’t think straight. “… I’m… oh, unnie, I’m gonna – I’m…”

“Uh, uh, uh.” Joohyun stops completely. She’s still knuckle-deep, but any movement, any friction is ceased. Seungwan’s would-be orgasm plateaus then plummets just as quickly.

And she barely stops herself from ripping her hair out. “Uh-unnie!”

“Tell me who you really like.” Joohyun resumes her unbearable teasing like she did at the start, brushing over her clit, never giving her anything concrete to hold on to for longer than a second.

Seungwan groans, dazed and obviously reluctant. “… huh?”

“It’s me, isn’t it?” Joohyun pries, holding the younger girl’s hips still when they try to grind onto her hand. “He isn’t real. It’s me. You like me. Say it, tell me.”

“… wh-what… no, please it’s n –”

She chokes back the rest of her sentence when Joohyun continues to pump into her at an agonizingly slow pace, keeping her orgasm painfully tethered. “You want to cum… you need to, don’t you? You need it? I want to hear you say it, so say it. Say it and I’ll make you cum. I’ll give you what you need.”

Seungwan wants to slap herself. She’s walked right into this. She’s just played herself – but Joohyun’s right, she needs to cum, she needs it so badly – oh god, her thoughts are everywhere. Joohyun tone is as sweet and as kind as she is, but her actions are utterly cruel, and Seungwan hates it that she wants everything she’s dishing out. It takes little more than a peer down at that searching gaze, inescapable, blinking innocently up at her like she isn’t driving her absolutely crazy with pleasure before she caves in. She’s broken and they both know it, all red in the face and choking out a weak – “… I-I like… I like you, unnie… you, it’s you, it’s you. I like you!”

To which Joohyun chuckles, playfully.

And then her fingers are moving again, plunging into her. Oh gosh. Oh my gosh, it feels good. Too good, it’s insane. Seungwan can feel herself clenching down intermittently on the fingers thrusting, curling against where she’s most sensitive. The pressure on her clit is nothing short of delicious, and she can finally hold onto the feeling for more than a second, but she craves it so badly that it only takes a second before it – it’s – it’s coming –

With a hoarse whisper of Joohyun’s name, she tenses up and goes limp all at once, slumping forward and clinging onto Joohyun for dear life, tiny shocks of electricity racing through her system as she twitches and convulses in her unnie’s arms.

Joohyun shifts off the floor and settles down next to her trembling Wannie, taking the opportunity to hum sweetly in her ear. “There, there now… see? That wasn’t so hard, was it? Was it really worth keeping it secret for that long?”

It feels like a millennium before Seungwan finds the strength to sit up and the ability to swallow. She flops lifelessly onto her side, letting those warm arms engulf her before looking Joohyun in the eye.

“I don’t know,” she half sighs, half pouts. “Wasn’t like I had much of a choice.”

Joohyun huffs fondly, leaning in to press a light kiss to a sweat-matted fringe. She lingers, and Seungwan can feel her growing smile. “Don’t worry, Wan-ah. He definitely likes you back.”

#red velvet #red velvet scenarios #red velvet imagines #wenrene #wendy #irene #smut #red velvet smut #unprompted rvmmm21 #fun fact i dabbed every time i wrote something dirty... so there was A LOT of dabbing #kpop scenarios #girl group scenarios

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