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drarrily-we-row-along · 4 years ago

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Day 66: Bond

There was a certain bond that formed between two people when all of your friends were paired off and dating someone. When the two of you were the only single people so you got paired off to share food, and be partners in games, and all other manner of things.

Harry supposed that tonight would be just one more of those nights as he arrived at Ginny and Luna's. And he wasn't complaining (not anymore, at least) it had taken a couple of years but he and Draco had warmed up to each other. They had compatible styles for partner games, Draco always gave Harry any treats with nuts and Harry gave him any treats with mint, and Harry genuinely enjoyed his dry sense of humor.

If he was being honest, he'd started looking forward to all of the time that he got to spend with Draco on Friday nights.

But things felt different the moment he entered the house, even though he couldn't quite put his finger on why. He spotted Ginny first, standing against the counter, pouring a couple glasses of wine, "Hey," he called.

She looked up and bit her lip.

"What?" he asked with no small amount of dread. He knew that look; it was the look she'd given him right before she'd told him she might be gay and in love with Luna, a look that said she was afraid of breaking his heart.

Ginny opened her mouth but no words came out.

"Ginny, what?" he said, taking several steps toward her.

"I don't know how to say thi-"

"Oh, good," he heard Draco say from behind him, "You're here."

His mouth stretched into a grin even before he turned around "He-" he broke off when he saw that Draco was standing with his arm around some bloke who Harry had never met before. "Hey," he finished.

"This is Matt," Draco offered.

And frankly, Harry would rather die (again) than shake his hand but before he could have any say in the matter Matt had stepped forward into his space and was gripping his hand. Hard. "The Harry Potter," he drawled. "My, my."

(Read more below the cut)

Harry glanced over at Draco who looked vaguely uncomfortable.

"Draco has told me so much about you. I could hardly believe that he was telling the truth." He leaned toward Harry conspiratorially, "He's known for embellishing the truth, you know?"

Harry wrenched his hand from Matt's grip, "Actually, I've found Draco to be honest to a fault. Hardly anyone else will tell me when my outfit doesn't match or I've got something stuck in my teeth."

Matt's eyes flashed and Harry's proverbial hackles stood on end he didn't like that look, "I-" Matt started

"Hey," Draco said, taking Matt's hand and drawing his attention, "Let me introduce you to everyone else."

"Nice meeting you, Mark," Harry called.

Draco narrowed his eyes at him, "Matt," he corrected, before mouthing, 'behave' at Harry.

"My mistake," Harry said, maintaining eye contact with the other man until he turned away and followed Draco into the other room.

"Okay," Ginny said, drawing his attention away from them, "First. Men are disgusting; I can't believe I thought I was attracted to them for so long."

"What?" he asked, slumping over to the counter and sliding onto a stool across from where Ginny was still mixing up drinks. He was feeling a little nauseous, fire rushing under his skin.

"That," she said, gesturing to where Harry had been standing talking to Matt and Draco, "The little pissing match to decide who's dominant."

"What?" Harry asked, "that guy is just an asshole."

She rolled her eyes, "Second, you're still an idiot."

"Wow. I'm just going to go home," he said. "Between you and the dude who was trying to break my fingers, I don't think it's going to be a great night."

Ginny leaned across the counter and instinctively Harry leaned toward her, "How long are you going to continue denying you have feelings for Draco?"

His brow furrowed, "I don't. We're just mates," he added.

"I rest my case. You're still an idiot," she said as she leaned back and started mixing drinks again.

Harry slouched on his stool turning that thought over in his mind, "That actually would make sense," he admitted.

"Harry, I love you, you know I do," she said. "But honestly, I can't believe you're just figuring this out. The rest of us have known for ages. We were all shocked when he walked through the door with Matt; he told us he was bringing someone but we thought the two of you were just making a joke."

"Well now what am I supposed to do?" he asked. "Why couldn't anyone have said something sooner?"

"Because we thought it was obvious," she hissed.

"Let's just get through the night," he sighed. "Then we'll deal with the rest. We'll need to come up with a plan."

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He spent the rest of the night calling Matt the wrong name (Miles, Maurice, Mike, Max, Moses, Mitch, Mason) to the point that Ron either caught on and decided to help or got confused enough that he started calling him the wrong name, too. Harry also couldn't help but rub it in Matt's face how much better he knew Draco; telling inside jokes, asking Draco specific questions about his work and his parents, and reminiscing about fond memories.

Draco seemed a bit exasperated by it but Harry couldn't help himself. Once he started, he just couldn't seem to stop.

Eventually as everyone was getting ready to leave and Luna was saying good bye to Matt, Draco cornered him, "Do not move a fucking muscle," he hissed, "I am not done with you."

"Dra-"

"I mean it, Potter. Stay right here," he said, jabbing him in the chest with his finger before he turned and made his way over to his date.

"Hey," Matt said, smiling at him much the way Harry imagined an alligator might smile at his prey.

"Hi," Draco replied softly. "I'll floo you tomorrow, yeah? There are a few things I need to take care of."

Matt frowned, "I thought we were going back to my place."

"No," Draco replied steadily. "I have a five date rule." He stepped back, "I'll floo you," he repeated.

And Matt looked pretty pissed about it, but he seemed to take the hint and disapparated on the spot without so much as a goodbye to anyone.

"You're all the literal worst," Draco fumed. "Except you, Luna," he added. "You're a goddess."

Luna gave a little curtsy.

"Seriously," Draco said, glaring at the room even though none of them looked especially repentant. "And you," he spat, spinning to glare at Harry, "You're the worst of all."

"Does that make me special?" Harry quipped, arms folded across his chest.

Draco groaned, "Bloody fucking Griffyndors. I hope you're all happy," he grabbed Harry's arm. "Come on we are going back to mine to have a chat."

"I thought you had a five date rule," Ginny called.

Draco flipped her the two finger salute before apparating them to his house.

Harry always liked being in Draco's house; it was small and cozy, and it always smelled vaguely like chamomile. Just being here made his soul feel lighter, calmer.

"Alright," Draco growled, "Spill. What the hell was that?"

"What?" Harry asked innocently.

"Potter," he warned.

Harry sighed, "He's an asshole."

"And you know that how? You didn't even give him a chance".

"Draco his handshake was like a vice!"

Draco stared at him, "You've got to be kidding me. Are you that much of a child? He hurt your hand so you thought you should bully him?"

"I didn't bully him!" Harry exclaimed.

"No?" Draco asked. "You didn't use his given name even once." Harry winced, maybe that was overkill. "You spent the entire night trying to make him feel stupid and inferior to you. Which, let's face it, everyone does anyway because you're Harry fucking Potter!" Draco exploded.

"That's not fair," Harry said, betrayal slicing hot through his gut. Draco knew that he hated being famous, hated the preconceived notions attached to his name.

"Yeah well, neither was what you did."

"Draco, I-"

"No," he said, holding out a hand, "That was such bullshit, Harry."

"But he's awful."

"You didn't even give him a cha-"

"I didn't have to!" he exploded. "The first words he said to me were to disrespect you. He's an asshole and I will chase a million of them away from you."

"That's not your job."

Harry threw his hands up in the air, "I'm your best friend! Whose job is it, if it's not mine?"

"You don't just get to decide things for me!" Draco cried.

"Fine," Harry spat. "You want to date that wanker, go ahead. But I have seen his type before. Don't come crying to me when he's beaten you to a bloody pulp for looking at someone the wrong way." He pushed past Draco and made his way to the door, walking out and slamming it behind him.

He started down the sidewalk, debating trying to figure out where Matt lived and have a chat or maybe go over to Ron and Hermione's to get some advice and regroup.

But the further he walked, the more the anger faded from his veins, and the guilt settled in.

There was no choice really, he turned around and headed back to Draco's house once more. When he arrived he knocked on the door even though he normally would have just let himself in.

"Go away!" Draco shouted.

He knocked again, "Draco, please."

"No! Go away. You're the worst."

"I know," he called back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Please."

After a few seconds, during which fear settled heaving in Harry's gut, the door opened and Harry slipped inside, Draco was curled up on the couch, hugging a pillow to his chest.

Seeing him looking so small and sad made Harry ache. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Which part?" Draco asked bitterly.

He sighed and came over to sit on the couch beside Draco, "I'm not sorry for chasing him away. But I will always be here for you, no matter what. You can always come to me."

Draco leaned over and put his head on Harry's shoulder, "I know," he whispered.

"Forgive me?"

He nodded and they sat together in silence for a few minutes, both trying to collect their thoughts. Eventually Harry said, "I really wish you wouldn't date him."

Draco sat up, "Harry look at me."

Harry turned on the couch to look at him and raised his eyebrows.

"I won't ever floo call him, we'll never go on another date, and I'll never see him again." Something eased in Harry's chest. "But it's not because of what you said or did. It's because I, too, have had shitty relationships. I have also lived through trauma and I have had to learn from it just like you."

Harry looked down at his hands.

"And if you have concerns about someone, there is a better way to tell me than what you did tonight."

He nodded, suitably chastised, "You're right."

"I appreciate your concern, though," he added and Harry looked up to see that Draco's mouth was quirked up, he really must be forgiven, apparently. "And I genuinely forgot how petty you can be."

He shook his head and reached out for Draco's hand, "Draco, I want you to be so, so happy," he said. Then he added, "I'm an idiot."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"And everyone knows it, you included, so you can't really hold it against me," he said.

"I'm pretty sure I can."

He huffed, "Just hear me out. I'm an idiot and I didn't realize until tonight that I'm a little bit in love with you. And it's fine if you don't feel the same but you are my best friend and I had high standards for you even before I knew I had feelings for you. It hurt me to see you with someone who treated you so poorly."

"Sorry," Draco said, "I need you to repeat that."

"I said, I'm an idiot," Harry started.

"Not that part."

"It hurt me to see you with someone who treated y-"

"Not that part either," Draco said.

Harry swallowed, "It's fine if you don't fee-"

"Harry," he grumbled. "Say the other part."

He rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm in love with you," he whispered.

Draco blinked at him, a smile blooming at the corner of his mouth, "Say it again."

A grin tipped up the corners of his mouth as well, "I'm in love with you."

Draco launched himself into Harry's arms and covered Harry's lips with his own, "say it again," he mumbled into the kiss.

"I love you," Harry repeated, murmuring the words into Draco's mouth.

Draco pulled back slightly, "I love you, too."

"I hoped that was the case," Harry replied.

After he kissed him again, Draco said, "Alright, fine. Now you get a say in who I date."

Harry grinned, "Is that so?"

He nodded.

"Will you date me, Draco Malfoy?" he asked, brushing his nose along Draco's.

"Yes," he whispered. Then with a smirk he added, "But we'll have to get my best friend's approval and rumor has it that he has very high standards."

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Day 65: Question | Day 67: Soulmate (Take 1)- Your traditional soulmate trope or Day 67: Soulmate (Take 2)- just using the word 'soulmate' as a prompt, not the trope.

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #drarry ficlet #drarry drabbles #jealous!harry #getting together #happy ending

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serendipityjxmn · 4 years ago

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Mr. President

Chapter 20

TW: Explicit violence, mentions of guns, drugs trafficking, gory killing scene

Words Count: 3k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 21

At first, you’re more like a property to him. He learned that the only way he can keep something or someone around for a long time, is if he treats them like a property. Because human’s feelings change, and he needs to protect himself from hurting.

Everything that he’s told you, the reason behind the marriage, the purpose of you are all true.

He needs to marry anyway, as one of the stupid ancient condition his old father has set and he knows his father had set it to make him stay grounded.

He scoffs, wondering why his father doesn’t learn from his past mistakes. And that’s why he’s made a plan on his own, to marry someone without a powerful background, one he can easily dispose when it’s time, one who won’t be a liability to him. A tool.

And now that tool is missing. He pinches his temple, eyes shut close. He’s alone in his office, late at night because he doesn’t sleep well these days.

Since his wife had packed her bags, left him and gone missing.

He sighs thinking about the last argument he had with you. It’s your own fault for building castles in the air and mistaking those as his genuine gesture and fall in love with him. And he realises that because he is not stupid. And during that one night, he sees you, fully sees you and he can’t deny the desire it stirred in his mind. This may be a temporary marriage but it doesn’t mean that he can’t touch you. After all, you are his wife. He knows you are beautiful, he’d known it since the first day because he isn’t blind. Yet he knows he can’t touch you without your consent. Although he did slip up because he tends to lose his vigilance around you. And that’s how he came up with another proposal.

Yet the proposal took a very different turn and became your last straw to leave him.

He couldn’t believe that you’re stupid enough to fall in love with him. Don’t you fear him? You know he’s dangerous yet you still confess your love to him and he doesn’t know whether to worship you at your feet or spanks you for it.

He’s never led you on and has never failed to remind what you are to him, simply an object yet you still fall for him.

He lets out another heavy sigh. Because frankly, he doesn’t know what to do. All of these aren’t supposed to happen and you’re not supposed to love him.

He had put up barriers and boundaries around himself and that’d made it very hard for anyone to simply approach him. People don’t approach him unless they want something from him and he’s well aware of it because he knows how the world works. Not to mention the fact that he’s the leader of the biggest mafia gang, notorious for all sorts of services they offer; machinery, assassinations, bribery, illegal weaponry, drugs trafficking and namely everything else. That had made it a billion times more difficult for anyone to approach or him to let anyone in.

And you’re well aware of it.

But you still fall for him.

He just doesn’t get it; how you’re able to fall for him despite knowing who he is and what he’s capable of.

He scoffs thinking how he could easily kill you. You’re too soft, weak and fragile.

Yet you still fall for him.

Despite knowing how easily he could kill you.

And without asking for anything in return.

And Jimin doesn’t find that believable at all. And at the face of such genuine adoration, he doesn’t know what to do. Because who on earth would be stupid enough to do that?

But you did. You are his stupid wife.

And that makes it even easier to kill you, not just by him. And the thought of anyone laying a finger on you angers him. It makes him want to kill someone. Tear their limbs one by one. Burn them alive. There’s just too many options.

But first he has to find you.

He sighs, for the hundredth time. You’re such a headache.

And that’s when his phone rings. A call from a private number.

“If it isn’t Y/N’s beloved husband..”

Jimin could feel his whole body tensing. “Who are you?”

The person from the other end laughs. “Damn, I need to come find you more often so you’d remember. You beat me into a pulp before.. and now I want leverage. You think you can just take my sister for free?“

Jimin’s hand clamp in a tight fist. “Jay.”

“You remember.. not bad. You see, when you take my little sister, you’ve caused me some complications. You can say she’s my source of income. She’s a pretty slut, no denying that. And I could’ve earned fortunes from selling her off. And you-“

“How much do you want?” Jimin cuts him off.

“Ah.. you’re a smart man.” He laughs before his tone turns serious again. “100 million won would do. For now. And don’t bullshit me saying you don’t have money or whatever. I know you have that much.”

“Where should I meet you?”

“I’ll text you the time and place. And don’t think of calling the police or bring your little friends. I have someone powerful backing me. She’s my little sister, but I’m not gonna hesitate to do anything if you don’t listen to my words. Right, little sister?”

A shrieking scream piercing through the phone is the last thing Jimin hears before Jay hangs up. Jimin’s whole body filled with rage and he grips his phone so tight it almost breaks into two.

“He’s not gonna come...” you slur, your vision not entirely clear and your swollen lips making it hard to enunciate words once Jay finishes his phone call to your husband.

“We’ll see about that bitch. And if he doesn’t.. count your time now..” he says in full malicious tone.

You don’t know how long you’ve been knocked out again but you wake up when you hear commotions.

“And the knight is finally here.” You hear your brother’s voice.

You struggle to focus on your vision. Your whole body freezes when your husband comes into view.

There’s no way Jimin’s here.

Perhaps it’s just a hallucination.

It’s a whole level of pathetic, you think. Because even when you’re in this state, he’s all you could see.

Perhaps you’re really nearing the end of your life, and your mind conjures whatever it desperately wants the most.

“Clara, what the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” The person hisses.

And it’s weird because it’s your husband’s voice.

You blink several times.

And there really is your husband, walking into the warehouse alone. He can’t had possibly willingly walks into a lion’s den alone like that? It’s like a death wish.

Clara turns immediately as soon as she sees Jimin. “Ah.. Jimin.. my Jimin..”

Someone comes and pushes Jimin forward and makes him sit on a chair and tie his hands on his back.

You swallow thickly. You still can’t process the fact that your husband is here.

He finally turns to look at you and he stares at you for several moments, just taking in the sight of battered you covered in bruises and blood and you see the clench in his jaw.

You let out a gasp when the guy standing beside him takes out his gun and points the muzzle on the back of his head. You feel anger bubbling inside you at the sight of it.

Gathering all source of strength, you yell, “Leave my husband out of this Jay!”

Jay quickly steps forward and leaves a stinging slap on your cheek. “If you dare hurt him..” you start and earns another slap from him, making you whimper in pain. You cough several times, your throat feels like burning.

Jimin eyes you furiously. “Keep quiet. Don’t make any sound.” He says, jaw still clenched very tightly. “Clara, what the fuck is this? Why are you here?”

She comes and slowly sits on Jimin’s lap. You notice how he doesn’t flinch away or jerk from her touch. “Baby.. we’ve dealt for years.. good business, good sex. And then you’re suddenly married and you just.. I don’t know, changed?” She says as she runs her fingers across your husband’s cheek.

Jimin just glares at her. “Why did you help him?”

She runs her hand down from his cheeks to his jaw and then settles on his chest, palms flat against them. She shrugs then. “I don’t know.. you know I’m a little crazy. I like having fun. And things.. had been boring. Business is boring, you are boring.. and perhaps I’m trying to put you in place a little, you asshole.” She glares at him.

He gives a very murderous look. “I’m gonna make sure you regret this.”

She leans closer. “Awww shh baby.. I’m not gonna hurt your precious little wife..” and closer. You realize she’s about to kiss him and you hastily look away. You don’t want the last memory you have of your husband before you die is being kissed by another woman. She gets up from his lap, fingers still faintly brushing him everywhere. Then she smirks. “But maybe he will.” She laughs and then exits through the door.

“Did you come with what I ask for?” Jay asks and Jimin juts his chin towards a large black duffel bag on the floor beside him that you hadn’t realized. Jay grins. “Nice doing business with you.. brother in law.”

“Now let us go.” Jimin says.

Jay stops inspecting the money inside the bag and turns to look at him. “No, don’t think it’s that easy..” He signals something and one of his men comes forward. “See, perhaps you don’t really know my sister.. but let me tell you this. She is a fucking whore. And I’m gonna let her be a whore. And you.. you’re going to watch every single men here stick their dick into her pussy.”

Your whole body goes numb as soon as you hear that. Desperately, you glance at your husband. He doesn’t look at you but instead just stares at your brother. You’ve never seen him look so murderous before. Your eyes widen in panic when they pull you from the chair and then roughly push you till you’re kneeling on the floor on all four.

“J-Jimin-” you say, voice thick with desperation.

“Sshh.. shh little sister.. don’t worry.. perhaps your husband might even get hard from this. Don’t you want to please your husband?” Jay smirks.

You feel you eyes start to water when your brain reaches an end and think that there’s no way of escaping this.

He calls one of his men and several others starts to approach as well, all wearing the same look of lust. Jay grabs a handful of your hair and yank it backwards, forcing you to look up. “She’s all yours..”

The nearest guy smirks and licks his lips as he looks at you and starts to strip his pants. You look away immediately. You let out a cry when the guy kneels beside you and yanks your jeans down, exposing your bottom.

“No, no please, please-“ you start to beg and Jimin hisses.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut.” He grits. “Don’t beg.”

You look at him and find him staring right back at you.

“Just look at me.” He says and fresh set of tears run down your cheeks.

The guy smacks your behind making you cry in pain and you almost collapse to the ground but he holds your waist firmly, groping each side harshly. Then, you feel a hand slides from your shoulder towards your throat and slowly starts choking you.

Your head starts to spin from the lack of air supply and you want to scream so badly but no words could come out. The pressure on your throat is so immense and your lung starts to ache.

Then you see a knife hovering in front of you.

A moment of realization hits you that you’re really about to die and it suddenly makes it so imperative that you tell something to Jimin.

“J-Jimin- I love-“

But before you could finish your words, you hear people bursting the doors open and people in suits come rushing in large quantity.

You try to focus your vision on your husband.

His face is calm. Too calm.

Your sight moves towards the crowd rushing in again and briefly sees Taeseok among them and a rush of relief runs through you. The guy choking you eases his grip on your throat instantly as he gets distracted and you feel like collapsing immediately as you struggle to breath again.

Everything happens so quickly. Someone rushes to your husband’s side and unties him and then he’s beside you instantly while someone else unties you. You try your best to glance behind you and sees Jungkook frantically untying you after fixing your clothes.

“Y/N oh my god-“

Jimin quickly shrugs his coat off his shoulder and immediately covers you. He looks at you as he holds you tight. His embrace is so warm and you just want to close your eyes and lean against him. “Keep your eyes open, we’re getting out of here.” He says roughly.

You’re not entirely sure with your vision but you think someone gives Jimin a gun and he starts shooting at people and you freeze, sounds blaring so loudly in your ear. You let out a strangled scream and you squirm away under his embrace that he looks down immediately. Then he looks at Jungkook.

“Jungkook.” He says and Jungkook nods and you feel yourself slipping out of Jimin’s hold while Jungkook brings you flush against him.

For a moment, there are just sounds of guns, people screaming and punches being thrown.

Jungkook pulls you to the side where it’s safer but you just can’t shut your eyes when there’s too many things going on. You then try to focus on your husband. He’s a good few metres away from you and you couldn’t clearly see the face of the other person but you think Jimin’s holding the guy that was going to rape you just now. And then he shoots him right in the head without thinking. And then another shot right at his chest even though the guy’s already crumbling to the ground, lifeless.

Someone then comes up and thrusts your brother to Jimin, making him kneel in front of your husband. You don’t see it before but you now notice that he’s holding a knife on his right hand. Jay’s expression turns horror as Jimin nears him. And then slowly, your husband carves his face with the knife as your brother’s inhuman shriek fills the warehouse.

Your eyes go wide with horror as you watch the traumatising scene unfolds. You feel a scream bubbling from deep inside your throat yet they’re unable to escape from your lips. Your throat somehow still feels constricted.

“Holy fucking shit.” Jungkook mutters and you realize his grip on your arms tightens.

It’s slowly getting more quiet in the warehouse as most of your brother’s or Clara Kim’s men are now dead as they were hugely outnumbered by Jimin’s people. You then realize that he’s taking his time with your brother.

“What did you say you’re about to do to my wife? Cut out her face?” He chuckles. “Let me show you the real art.”

He leans close.

And then he carves your brother’s right eye out while he shrieks in pain.

“This is for touching my wife.”

And then he carves the other one.

“This is for messing with me.”

The scream finally escapes your lips.

“Fuck-“ Jungkook says and quickly covers your eyes and mouth.

The screaming doesn’t stop for a few more minutes and you think you’ll remember your brother’s inhuman scream till the day you die.

“Jimin stop it. She’s gonna get a trauma.” You hear someone says. Jin..?

You hear footsteps approaching you and then suddenly, Jungkook’s hand is being yanked away and your husband’s face comes into view. His forehead beaded with sweat and his expression furious.

You look at him in horror, frankly still traumatised and terrified at him.

But he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he thrusts a gun into your hand. “Do you want to kill him?”

Your panic immediately and clutched his arm desperately. “No, no please- let’s just go-“

“Ssh.. ssh I’m here.” He takes back the gun. “And we’re gonna get out of here.” He pulls you into his embrace, cocks the gun and fire a shot straight into Jay’s head.

Your entire body freeze. You watch in horror as your brother’s life starts seeping out, his breathing ragged until finally.. it stops.

“Good God- did you really have to shoot him in front of Y/N?” You hear Namjoon says.

“What?” Jimin asks, confused.

“God, you’re so stupid sometimes Park Jimin.” Yoongi says roughly.

Your husband finally turns to look at you and registers the paleness of your face. “Y/N, you okay?” He asks and then makes you stand to your feet. He keeps his hand steady on your waist and you’re thankful because you can’t feel your feet at all.

You don’t know how but from the corner of your eyes, you see someone who’s lying on the floor slowly lifts a gun and your eyes widen when you realize he’s aiming at your husband.

One of Jimin’s bodyguard sees it too and moves to kick the gun away and he did- but not before the guy cocks the gun and all the bodyguard manages to do is change the target, because the bullet hits you instead.

You fell to the ground immediately when the bullet cuts through your shoulder. It’s weird because it hurts so much that you almost feel nothing at all.

Jimin’s eyes widen when he sees you.

For a brief moment, you think you see your whole life flashes by in your mind very quickly.

If you die right now at the hands of your husband.. that you’d fallen in love with.. it doesn’t seem so bad..

You smile.

Then slowly, you bring your hand up to Jimin’s face to touch him one last time.

And then everything blacks out.

A/N: I rarely write post chapter notes because I’m afraid it would destroy your emotions lol but I just wanna thank everyone who had given support since day 1.. the story would not have come this far without the kind words you guys gave me. I feel a little bit emotional because we’re almost more than halfway through with their journey.. haha okay I’ll stop here. see you guys in the next chap! ��

Buy me a coffee here! 💜

Link to Chapter 21

Posted on 210516 9:00PM

#serendipityjxmn #serendipityjxmnmrpresident #mrpresident #mr president #bts fic #bts au #bts smut #jimin au #park jimin #parkjimin #kpop fic #jimin smut #jimin ceo #jimin mafia #bts mafia #jimin x reader

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softykooky · 5 years ago

Text

Sanctuary : One

A/N: This is my first ever fic! I’m a new writer and I’m just starting so please go easy on me :) Also, I edited this way too quickly so forgive me if there are any grammar mistakes. Please let me know what you think and if you would like more parts! Request anything you like!

Summary: Seoul's drug ring is sovereign of a small group fo 7 men, who have just gotten their hands on the ambassador's daughter.

Warnings: physical/emotional abuse, guns, violence, kidnapping...

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There was always something so surreal and soft about a cup of black coffee in a cafe that you have never been to, sitting across from a ghost in a booth that you have never sat in. You cradled a cup of lukewarm coffee between the palm of your hands, periodically sighing into the cold air of the room. The barista had given you a few side glances. A normal behavior though, you’ve been sitting here for a good couple hours now. There was nowhere else to go, and the cafe would give you a couple hours to think of a place to sleep for the night before inevitably walking around a park and finding a nice cozy bench. You looked outside the window.

Rain. At least it wasn’t hail. Better to go to bed drenched than in pain.

From the corner of your eye, you could see the barista approaching you, apprehensively and like she was there out of obligation.

“Is there anything you need at all? You want me to freshen up that coffee for you?” Her name tag read Kim.

Yes, there are a lot of things I need. No, you can’t help me with any of them.

“No, that’s alright. I’m so sorry, am I taking too long here?”, you began to pack up your bag full of nothing and made way to move out of the booth.

“No, no, I was just checking up. Take as much time as you need.” She left you alone after, walking away with no intent to wait for your answer. People always do that. You looked outside the window again, and the rain had worsened, now slamming against the glass so intensely you felt it vibrating against the table. It was so loud. Almost loud enough so that you couldn’t hear when gunshots erupted through the door of the cafe.

No. No. Not more of this.

Out of instinct and past reflex, you ducked down under the booth table, making yourself as small as you could. You didn’t dare to let out another breath. The other patrons of the cafe had scattered immediately, some making it out the door in a sonic sprint. Your eyes shot to the barista, who was standing there shaking uncontrollably with a strawberry smoothie nestled in her hands, eyes wide staring at the group of men who had just open fired.

“Ah boys. I was wondering when you would arrive. It’s rude to leave your guests waiting, you know.” The voice came from a man sitting in the corner of the room, still sipping on a cappuccino with his face tucked under a hat.

“Cut the shit, Mino. What happened to our shipment at the port in Gwangju?” His voice was sharp. Seething and filled with an intense hatred that could be heard from the tone alone. You would hate to be Mino right now. You looked around again, and the cafe had already been cleared out. The barista was nowhere in sight. What luck.

“I know what happened.” A different voice from the same group of men.

“You stopped it before it got on the boat. Tipped off Hyun’s crew that our goods were in transit and you, spineless as you are, gave up our protection and loyalty for a couple million that they offered you.” The man’s words seemed to silence the room. You held your breath, only watching the scene unfold before you.

The man named Mino coughed into his cup. He set it down, then idiotically tried to sprint out of the cafe and away from the grasps of a group of heavily armed men. Even you wanted to laugh. They cornered him, backs turned to where your booth was. This was your chance. You can run and they’ll never know you were here. The barista popped into your mind again. You couldn’t leave her alone.

You crawled out of your hiding space under the booth, making your way to the counter and trying to ignore the sound of Mino being beaten to a pulp that made a familiar anxiety bubble in your chest. You had to focus and not blow into a panic attack. Your advance was almost completely soundless, and the mystery men were far too preoccupied to notice you behind them. You peeked through to the counter, finding a shivering barista who still clutched a strawberry milkshake like her life depended on it. Her eyes held your gaze, tears streaming down her cheek. You mouthed for her to follow you as you turned around once again, preparing for the treacherous trek to the door.

“Mino, we could have been such good allies. Is that your price of betrayal? A million and a half?” A punch to the stomach. Uppercut to the jaw. “I would like to think we are more expensive than that, don’t you boys?” You winced, spiritually sending condolences to Mino. Sounds like he messed up real bad.

You held onto the barista’s hands behind you, slowly standing up and walking gingerly out the door with her in tow.

Okay Y/N you’re halfway there. Just a little bit more. Quietly, you’ve done this before.

The men turned around.

Oh fuck.

The only thing you could think of was flinging the barista in front of you and running full speed to the door, now busted in its frame with pieces of shattered glass on the ground. “Shit. Run, Kim! Go!” You yelled in your haste, still pushing her in front of you. If it hadn’t been for the hand that had suddenly encased itself around your upper arm, you would have made it too. You were pulled back into a hard chest, sighing in relief as Kim sprinted out to the other end of the street, not looking back once. Watching her, you wished you could have done the same for your sister. Now you were going to die. But it was okay because you saved someone from the same fate,

“What the fuck is wrong with you? The gunshots didn’t scare you away?” You turned to his face. If this were a normal day, you would’ve been in awe at how handsome this stranger was. Had it not been for his increasingly tight grip on your hand and a gun in the other. You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe. You thought you had already escaped this part of your life.

“What? Are you mute?” He squeezed your arm more, eyebrows furrowing as steam seemed to shoot out of his ears. You whimpered in pain, which seemed to soften his demeanor and loosen his grip.

“I-I’m sorry. I couldn’t get out in time.” Tears had involuntarily made their way down your cheeks. He sighed, turning his gaze to the other men in the room who had been tensely watching. Wow. Leave it to you to get yourself tangled in a shootout with the most beautiful criminals you had ever seen in your life.

“Whatever. Mino’s taken care of. Just take her with, she’s already heard everything. No loose ends.” The man in the middle said nonchalantly. Your face paled.

“No. No you can’t. Please, I promise I won’t say a thing. I’ll pretend it never happened.” Now it was your turn to hold onto the man, shaking in his grasp as you pleaded. You couldn’t go back to this violence. He stared at you in disinterest.

“Please, don’t take me.” You had begun to cry more intensely, feeling an impending doom over your head. It never matters what you want. What you need. The world just kept going on. The men exchanged knowing glances, restraining and dragging you to the black SUV that had been parked outside. You didn’t fight then. It was useless. This life will always drag you back.

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When you woke up from a sleep of exhaustion, you were still in the car. Both your hands and legs had been tied with scratchy rope that dug into your bleeding skin. You looked around at the men, who were all occupied with something and chatting with each other as if they hadn’t just shot up a cafe and beaten a man to an inch of his life. You coughed to clear your throat, but were too scared to say anything else. A man with wavy black hair looked your way, almost sneering at your presence.

“Princess is awake.” He spit out the words, making you confused. Were you so terrible even from such a short encounter? You looked down at your hands instead, staying silent. The car drove for god knows how long before it stopped in front of a house that you assumed costs more than your life. Before you could gawk anymore, the same man gripped onto your bruised forearm and dragged you out of the car. You bit your tongue at the pain, cooperating with everything.

They seemed to fling you around like you were a ragdoll. Next thing you knew, you were being shoved down ungracefully on a chair in a white room, staring at your own reflection in the mirror you faced. For making it through a gun ambush, you looked pretty okay. The door opened to a man, a gentle smile on his face.

“Hello Y/N.” You froze, wide eyes coming up to meet his gaze.

“How do you know my name?” Your voice shook as you spoke, fear seeping into every word. He held up an ID card that you had left in your bag.

“What a coincidence, huh? That when we took someone captive it would be the daughter of the Japanese ambassador.” The same anxiety from before bubbled up again, threatening to spill out of you.

“I...I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He chuckled humorlessly, taking a seat across from you and tossing a file onto the table with your face plastered on the front.

“Says here you ran away a couple months ago right? I wonder why though...was Daddy not giving you enough weekly allowances? Didn’t get you the latest season of Saint Laurent that you wanted?” He spit the words at you as if they were poison, making you recoil back into your seat. You wouldn’t tell him the reason you ran away, but you wished it was because of something measly like Saint Laurent.

“Ah, silent treatment. Well, Ms. Y/N. I’m sure your father would reward us handsomely for the return of his beloved daughter, don’t you think?” His words made a chill shoot up your spine and tears welled in your eyes.

“No!” You screamed in his face, catching him off guard.

“Please….please don’t do that. Please don’t send me back. I’ll do anything. Anything but that.”

Your desperation seemed to confuse him further as his frown deepened and he looked at you curiously. He seemed to be deep in thought before his expression flattened once again, cold eyes staring back into your teary ones.

“Do you know how many people would kill to be in your privileged position? The money that your family has? Do you know how fortunate you are?” He judged you, tutting as he flipped open the file to read more. You shook your head, staring down at your tied hands and trying to soothe the sharp ache in your chest.

“Yeah….so fortunate.” You laughed, refusing to meet his gaze once again. If your old life had been considered fortunate, you wouldn’t even want to know what was considered unlucky. He stayed silent, only reading up on the details of your life more. 22 years old. Black hair. Brown eyes. Daughter of the Japanese ambassador and distinguished family. Your father is a business tycoon and your mother his arm candy. One sibling; a sister. Allergic to shellfish.

“Well, Ms. Y/N, if you are so desperate to not return to your cushy life with a silver spoon, you’ll stay here until we figure out what we should do with you.” He pulled you up from your seat and signaled you to follow him. The house you were in was almost as grand as your own, hallways spanning for what seemed to be miles. You guessed that the chandelier above you was Swarovski; you had the same one in your dining room. You felt annoyance gnawing at the back of your head. Who was he to judge you when your lifestyles were so aligned.

“You’ll be staying in here.” The man opened a door to a large room with a queen size bed in the middle. It looked like your room back home, and you wanted to throw up. Your expression didn’t go unnoticed as the man rolled his eyes.

“My sincerest apologies if the room is not up to her highnesses’ standards.” He shoved you roughly through the doorway, making you stumble over your own shaky feet. The man turned to leave but was stopped by your meek and quivering voice.

“W-What’s your name?” You muttered, ignoring the fear you could hear in your own words.

“Not that I owe it to you or anything,” he said coldly.

“It’s Namjoon.”

Namjoon. The name suited him. Suited his confident gait and his cold but calculating stare. You wanted to yell in his face. Tell him that you weren’t the spoiled brat princess he had made you out to be. Scream the reason why you ran away. But you couldn’t. After all your father and family have put you through, you knew how important his job was and what a high government figure he was. You couldn’t threaten that position. Your father was still your father once, and not the monster he has become.

You collapsed on the soft bed after washing up as best you could, with no intention of sleeping. Sleeping risks having a nightmare, and your state was already fragile as it was. You turned on the bedside lamp and tucked yourself into the goose-feathered blanket, finally processing everything that had happened today. It seemed to crash like a ton of bricks, and you let out the pain on a poor, ill-fated pillow that had the unfortunate fate of being near.

A knock sounded from the other side of the door and swung open immediately afterwards. You bolted up to a sitting position.

“Could you keep it down? I’m in the room next to you.” His words felt like a slap in the face, and you could feel another bout of tears surfacing but swallowed down to avoid being pummeled by your captor.

“Oh”, you hiccuped, “sorry.”

“What? Do the sheets not have high enough thread count? I’ll get someone on that”. His words were mocking and rude, and try as you did, you couldn’t stop the dry sob that forced its way out of your throat. His lips curled up into a smirk. You hated that they assumed everything about who you were. You hated being taken. You hated whoever this is that told you to be quiet.

“Taehyung! What are you doing in there?” A silver voice cut through the hallway and you halted your hysterical sobbing in anticipation and fear. Another man. One of the ones in the cafe. There had been seven of them, you weren’t sure. He looked at you and softened at your red and blotchy face.

“Did you make her cry, you brat?” He slapped Taehyung across the shoulder, making him roll his eyes.

“I told you to go easy and look at what you did.” He seemed to be lecturing the other man like a parent figure. It would’ve made you giggle had you not been sobbing.

“H-He didn’t make me cry. I was crying before...I was being t-too loud. I’m sorry.” Wiping away the tears that had clouded over helped you see the new man. Of course, dangerously handsome and aura dripping in elegance.

“Yeah, Jin-hyung, I was just trying to hack the cameras in the embassy but I couldn’t do it while it sounded like a funeral next door.” Taehyung huffed, rubbing the spot where he got hit. So this new guy’s name was Jin. You made a mental list in your head. So far you have figured out Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jin.

Jin approached you and gently wiped away the steady stream of tears on your face. You nearly gasped in surprise. Ever since the cafe, everyone has been so rough with you. Come to think of, it’s been so long since anyone has ever touched you with care and no intent to hurt. You flinched at the unfamiliarity, which made Jin frown before moving away.

“Come on Tae, let’s let Y/N get some sleep.” He ushered Taehyung towards the door and closed it gently. You were alone, again. With nothing but your thoughts.

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“Y/N, you’re fucking useless. We had you to make our family look better, and you can’t even serve that simple purpose.” Your father spit the words at you, accompanied with a stinging slap across the cheek. Some days were worse than others. At least he wasn’t hitting your sister.

“God, why the fuck did the universe give me this pathetic excuse of a fucking daughter?” He kicked you in the stomach.

“All I asked was to not go out and let the press see you.”

Punch to the jaw.

“And you can’t even do one fucking thing right.”

Another kick.

He always said the words eerily calm. That’s how you’d know he was angry. He would never yell, just said it simply and without waver as he beat you into the floor and your mother pretended not to hear from the other room.

“I should just get rid of you now. You’d make a good whore.” His fists rained down on you. By the end of it, you laid still and let him finish taking his anger out on you. It was never worth fighting back, anyway. He would just hit you twice as hard.

You woke up with a gasp, hands clutching onto the blanket that was held to your chest and gulping in air desperately. You had started crying in your sleep, leaving a wet stain on the pillow and your body felt sticky from sweat. This was why you avoided sleeping in the first place, but it seems you cried yourself exhausted last night and drifted away. A cough came from the open doorway, as a man peered in with a tray of food. His shocked eyes told you that he had been here before you woke up.

“Food.” He uttered. He walked closer to your bedside table and paused, taking in the scene before him. You were having a nightmare when he came in, and all he knew to do was stare at you until you woke up. He swiftly placed the tray onto the nightstand, and you flinched in response, which confused Jungkook even more. He shook it off, turning to make his way out the door. Before he could leave, though, you yelled out and asked for his name.

“It’s Jungkook.” His eyes avoided your’s.

“Jungkook...thank you for bringing that for me.” His hands froze on the doorknob. He never expected someone like you to have manners at all, much less for the same group of people that kidnapped you off the streets. Jungkook left with no more words exchanged.

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“Hyung...did you notice something weird about Y/N?” Jungkook fiddled with his fork as they all sat around a dining table eating breakfast. He had been feeling off all morning after Y/N, like something was gnawing at the back of his mind.

“Who? The girl we kidnapped?” Taehyung questioned, mouth full of scrambled eggs as he insisted on shoving more in. He looked at Jungkook confusedly.

“Yeah..she’s just jumpy. More than most. And when I went to give her food, she was having a nightmare and pleading for someone to stop.” Jungkook knew the signs. He knew what that looked like. He’s experienced it.

Jin looked up from his newspaper and sipped a cup of black coffee. “Come to think of it, yes actually. She flinched away from me yesterday and I barely moved.” Jin didn’t give it another thought, though, returning to his newspaper crossword puzzle.

“I dunno Kook, it’s probably nothing. Probably dreaming about someone stealing her Birkin.” The group chuckled at Yoongi’s jab lightheartedly.

“Yeah, you’re probably right”, Jungkook pushed down his suspicions. He was probably reading too much into things. Those are miniscule signs and he was in no way a profiler.

Taehyung chugged a glass of orange juice after his mouthful of eggs. “Besides, she just got snatched off the street by a bunch of strangers.” He looked at Jungkook, trying to assuage whatever he’s got his head roped up in.

The group spent the rest of the morning laughing over breakfast and briefing over the duties they were each responsible for. More like a group of old friends rather than business partners of an underground mafia that dominated the entire Seoul drug ring. You really had no idea what you had gotten yourself into, and what being the ambassador’s daughter means for you. Namjoon would have to decide by the end of the day what the course of action is regarding your situation. Giving you back to your father would put them in his favor. They would have an in to high-level government officials. However, keeping you would give them leverage to hold over the ambassador’s head. What Namjoon didn’t know, though, was why you were so insistant on not going back. He was going to make it his goal to find out.

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the-fandomwriter · 4 years ago

Note

I want tommy to pull a Percy Jackson so bad (context: Percy Jackson crashed his own funeral once in the books)

YES PLEASE WE NEED THIS RIGHT NOW.

and he would go all out too. like sneaking in and waiting until tubbo gets up for the eulogy and just scaring the absolute shit out of tubbo who’s literally blubbering over his “dead” friend, meanwhile ghostbur and techno are just chuckling from behind a tree as everyone starts losing their shit and tommy’s just stabbing things and attacking dream (assuming tommy has finally realized that dream is a massive dickhead and he’s fully grasped that dream manipulated him and all that) who was trying to act all sad about it n stuff.

ranboo is just dumbfounded because, jesus fucking christ kid, you could’ve just sent a letter or /msg’ed everyone instead of literally stabbing people and causing multiple people to piss their pants.

phil watches with an amused smile in the back row of seats (tubbo allowed him to attend since he’s not that big an asshole and tommy’s literally phil’s son). he originally didn’t want tommy to go through with this plan since it was incredibly risky considering dream would be there, but once he overheard tommy and techno conversing a few days prior to the funeral about tommy sneaking knives in to attack dream, phil was suddenly on board. sure, phil wanted to murder dream himself, but he figures it was time for tommy to take matters into his own hands and beat the absolute shit outta that fucker.

vikkstar and lazar watch in horror wondering what the fuck they got themselves into, fundy is facepalming as he watches ghostbur cheer tommy on as he starts yelling some bullshit about “never dying” and “being immortal”.

karl is losing his mind, he’s in fits of gut-tearing laughter on the floor, he had a feeling tommy wasn’t dead, he knew deep down that tommy really was a “big man” who wouldn’t let isolation stop him from getting his discs back.

quackity and niki just stand there exchanging shocked glances as the funeral gets more and more outta whack, the grass in the field is now burning, there’s arrows flying, food being thrown, shriek's of terror, and the two just stand in the center of it all unsure what the fuck they’re supposed to do next.

then everything falls silent as tubbo starts down what used to be the center aisle where the empty casket was to be carried down. his cheeks are stained with tears, eyes red as a poppy. he’s skinnier than tommy remembered him, his coat hung too loosely off his shoulders, and his cheekbones were slightly more prominent than before. he looked ghastly, with pallor skin and purple bags under his eyes.

he stops in front of the beaming tommy, who looks healthy again, with clean hair and healing scratches on his face, and his eyes are blue again. a bright, lively blue and contrasted tubbo’s deep, colorless ones that had lost all hope in the week’s past.

tommy looks up at tubbo with a faltering grin as he takes in the destroyed sight of his best friend. of his old best friend. he couldn’t call him that anymore, could he?

tommy was ready to be hugged, slapped, screamed at, pushed away, beaten to a pulp, anything.

then tubbo seized, knocking tommy to the ground, throwing tiny balled up fists into tommy’s chest like a million stones being thrown against the surface of a lake, each one feeling more and more deserved as tommy protects his face from any mis-targeted blows.

ghostbur watches hastily, but doesn’t intervene. techno and phil begin pushing through the crowd as everyone begins to watch curiously as the tiny, broken boy continuously pounds his fists against tommy’s chest, repeatedly screaming curses and swears and venom.

“you bloody arse! how could you?”

“you were supposed to be my best friend!”

“i fucking hate you!”

“i thought you left me!”

“i thought you did it tommy, i thought you were gone for good!”

he curses until his throat grows strained, and punches until his knuckles are raw and sore. he fights until he can no longer, and phil is carefully pulling him off of tommy, and tubbo clings helplessly to phil, blubbering uncontrollably.

techno is at tommy’s side, helping him to his feet, and ghostbur looms sadly in the front of the crowd, an arm around niki’s shoulders.

“i’m sorry, tubbo.” is all tommy manages to utter before tubbo lurches forward again. tommy flinches, preparing to be bombarded by another stoning, only to find two arms wrapped tightly around his abdomen, holding onto him for dear life, as if tommy were keeping the deflated boy afloat.

“thank god you’re all right,” tubbo replies, words muffled by tommy’s askew shirt. “so help me, tommy, i’m going to murder you for doing that to me.”

and tommy laughs, and tubbo laughs, and the air eases, and all tense shoulders and concerned glances ease. everything is all right. or, as all right as it could get.

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fangirlwriting-stories · 3 years ago

Text

Fight or Flight

Chapter One

Chapter Two:

It had taken Virgil a while to settle on a name, but once Remus revealed his and Deceit teased the fact that he had one, Wrath had proclaimed that they needed names too. Virgil hadn’t really cared one way or another, but Wrath had poured over internet searches with him, and Virgil had settled on what he chose when they learned it meant “vigilance.” It wasn’t the most standard, but it felt like his, and he liked it. Wrath was still looking, despite his declaration that they both needed to have a name.

Life as part of Remus and Deceit’s “crew” was very unusual compared to what Virgil was used to. They got to eat out in the open, in the kitchen, three times a day. Sometimes Deceit even made meals for them. Virgil had never had an actual meal before. It was… surprisingly nice. So far his favorite was any kind of breakfast for dinner.

Deceit and Remus seemed to understand how exhausted Virgil and Wrath both were, and so for the first couple weeks, Deceit said they’d let them both hide out in their rooms and decompress. But first, they ended up having a conversation that was more than a little surprising.

“So,” Deceit said, right after he finished telling them such. “Before you both head off, what do you want?”

Virgil blinked, and exchanged a confused look with Wrath. “What do you mean?” he asked cautiously, turning back to Deceit.

“Well, I’m not going to force you to help with my schemes without giving you something in return,” Deceit said. “For example, Remus gets free access to his brother’s side of the Imagination—”

“I get to fuck with him whenever I want!” Remus said happily.

Deceit smiled in amusement. “Yes. So, what would you two like in return for helping?”

Virgil didn’t have a clue what to say. What did he want? When was he ever allowed to focus on that?

Wrath didn’t seem to be having the same issue, though. “I want another function,” he said immediately, and Virgil glanced over in surprise. “I don’t care if Avarice has to technically respect us now, I don’t trust him to leave me alone, and if he tries to pull what he did last time, I’m still in trouble with just the one function. I want another one.”

Virgil stared at him for a minute, surprised that Wrath was being so… practical. Normally he gave long talks about what was fair and what he deserved. He… he didn’t actually think that Deceit was going to let them have what they wanted the rest of the time, did he?

But before Virgil could speak up, Deceit nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to hunt Avarice down and try and take another function from him. He’s fairly on guard right now. If you’d like, I could share part of my function of Thomas’ self love with you.”

Wrath nodded. “That works,” he said. And so, in a way that was similar to how Virgil had done it, except not by force, Deceit reached inside his chest and pulled out a function. It was soft and warm and yet somehow blazing and fierce at the same time. Virgil watched in astonishment as Deceit split it in half, and floated the warm and fierce half over to Wrath, letting the soft and blazing piece dart back inside himself. He glanced up at Wrath, who nodded.

Deceit turned to Virgil a second later. “Well?”

“Uh…” Virgil couldn’t think so quickly, not with all this pressure. “Uh… can I decide later?” he said, wincing.

“Of course,” Deceit said, thankfully not sounding the least bit bothered. “There’s no time limit. Just let me know when you decide.”

Virgil nodded shakily, trying to process the enormous responsibility that came with that. He had no idea where to even start with figuring that out.

It had been weeks, and he still wasn’t sure.

He’d spent the time in his room both trying to figure that out, and also trying to understand what life would be like if he didn’t have to be in survival mode. Wrath had gotten on his case enough times about decorating his room and finding some hobbies, but he was adjusting to everything too, and he didn’t have a clue how to start with all that stuff on his own either.

So instead, he spent the weeks off laying in his room and trying to convince his brain that everything was going to be fine now, and there was no reason to be scared for his life anymore. But he was pretty sure he’d picked a good function name with Anxiety, because his brain couldn’t seem to let the issue go. And due to the fact that he had two functions now, it took him a while to decide what exactly he wanted to do about it.

He imagined the two functions would settle more the longer he had them, and he’d be less of a walking tug-of-war. But for now, the fight and flight responses seemed a little at war with each other. Part of him wanted to do what he had always done, and run and hide until it was safe (coincidentally, that was also the part of him that wouldn’t believe that he was safe now). The other part of him, the part that had stood up for Wrath and was fed up with living in fear, wanted to lean into this new function and use it to make his life better than it had been before.

Virgil wasn’t really surprised where he ended up at the end of the two weeks.

Remus brightened when he opened his door to find him there. “Hi Virgey!” he called happily. “You’re out of your room!”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, smiling a little back. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Yes, I will go over all the reasons that Thomas is definitely gay with you. So one, he’s never once looked at a girl that way, two—”

“What? No. And Thomas isn’t gay, shut up. I want you to teach me to fight.”

Remus somehow lit up more. “You want me to beat you to a pulp with your permission this time?”

“Well, that’s not exactly what I meant—”

“I would love to! Go ask Wrath if he wants to join and meet me in the Imagination!”

Remus ducked back into his room and shut the door after him, leaving Virgil standing in the hallway. After a minute, he headed over to Wrath’s room and knocked on the door as a warning, before heading in a second later. They’d long moved past the need for knocking, but it had been a rough couple of weeks, and he imagined he would have appreciated the knocking if Wrath was coming into his room.

“Hey,” Virgil said, poking his head in just in case Wrath was busy with something. “I asked Remus to teach me how to fight. He wants to know if you want to join.”

Wrath glanced up from his desk and over at Virgil. “Oh. Okay. Are you sure learning to fight from Remus is the best idea?”

“It’s a better idea than learning how to fight through experience.”

Wrath shrugged. “Fair enough I guess. When are we doing this?”

“Now.”

Wrath blinked. “Now?”

“You don’t have to come.”

“No, I’m coming,” Wrath said, pushing the chair back and standing. “Honestly I just wasn’t expecting you to want to do something like that.”

“New functions are strange things,” Virgil said. “I’m still figuring this one out, but I thought I might as well help it along.”

“Fair enough,” Wrath said, looking down at his own chest, and they both crossed the commons, without ducking behind any furniture, and headed into Remus’ room. Virgil suspected he’d let them in without knocking, and he was right.

The door to the Imagination on the other side of the room was left open, and when they walked through it, Remus was finishing putting the final touches on what looked like a sparring ring.

“Hey!” Remus called, as soon as he noticed they were there. “Okay, so before we actually start sparring, do you know anything about how to fight safely?”

Virgil and Wrath exchanged a glance. “Uh… not really,” Virgil admitted, looking back over.

“I tried to convince him to fight like a million times before he actually did,” Wrath said with a shrug.

“Hey,” Virgil said, whacking Wrath on the arm half-seriously.

“Okay,” Remus said, and Virgil couldn’t quite read his tone. “This’ll be fun then.”

“What do you—” Virgil started, but his question was cut off when Remus ran straight for him and threw a punch at his head. Virgil yelped and dove to the side, and the fist met with empty air. “Hey, what the hell!”

“Aw come on, hold still so I can punch you,” Remus said, still grinning. He dove for Wrath this time, who ducked under Remus’ arm and ended up on the other side of Virgil.

“Thanks for staying together, at least!” Remus called, whirling to face them, meaning that as he dove for them again Virgil and Wrath both split off in opposite directions.

“I thought you were going to teach us how to punch or something!” Virgil snapped.

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” Remus asked, leaping for him again as Virgil ducked down to avoid his fist and slid between his legs. He couldn’t be lucky forever, though, and as he stood up Remus caught him by the arm and spun him into the wall. Virgil shook off the shock just in time to slip sideways and avoid Remus’ fist then, meaning it connected with the wall instead.

“Oh, fuck, that hurt!” Remus said, even though he was still grinning for some reason. He waved his hand, and it looked like several broken bones healed themselves. He threw another swing at Virgil, and Virgil darted around him, then ran for the door, where Wrath was already headed.

“Hey, I’m not done with you yet!” Remus called, and the door disappeared just as they both reached it.

Virgil spun around and started looking for other ways out, and Wrath glared at Remus. “Hey, that’s not—” he called, but Remus just aimed a kick at his head.

Wrath gave a growl of frustration and kicked at Remus’ leg still on the ground, and Remus fell over onto his back just in time for Wrath to put a foot on his chest.

“Jeez, finally,” Remus said, grinning up at Wrath from where he was pinned.

“What the hell do you mean finally?” Wrath snapped. “And what the hell was that?”

“That was me proving you two were full of bullshit,” Remus said, leaning to the side and biting Wrath’s leg. Wrath cried out, more in surprise than pain, and jerked backwards, giving Remus time to leap to his feet.

“You said you didn’t know anything about fighting,” Remus said.

“We don’t,” Virgil said, crossing his arms. “I asked you to teach us for that very reason!”

“Really? Cause I was only sort of taking it easy on you, and you dodged me pretty well,” Remus said, raising his eyebrows.

“Well yeah,” Virgil said. “You learn how to dodge if it keeps you alive. What’s your point?”

“Dodging is a part of fighting, dummies,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “You can’t just expect to win every fight with offense.”

“That’s what Avarice did, though,” Wrath said, tipping his head in confusion.

“Yeah, cause Avarice is a pathetic coward who was only used to winning due to the fact that he was on top of all the other single-function sides. You were there when he lost, like, immediately after Virgil stood up to him, right?”

Virgil blinked. “But that’s not—”

“Whatever you’re about to say, yes it is. You’re both very good at defense. You could probably get your opponent spinning themselves in circles and get them off guard with no effort. The part you need to learn is how to use those moments after you create them. That requires brain stuff and logic.” Remus looked at Wrath. “That whole time I was shoving Virgil into the wall, you could have used to sneak up on me from behind. And you could have done the leg sweeping when you ducked under my arm and ended the fight right then and there.” He turned to Virgil. “While I was approaching Wrath at the end there, you should have been looking for weaknesses on my other side and using them to weaken me so he could take me out. Fighting two against one isn’t hard if you both know what you’re doing, you know.”

Virgil took all of that information in. Surprisingly, Remus had several very good points. “Okay,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean we know how to actually hit someone where it’s going to hurt.”

“Fair enough,” Remus admitted. “We can start with the basics there. Make a fist.”

Virgil did his best interpretation, and Wrath did the same next to him.

“You want your thumb outside your fingers,” Remus said to Wrath. “And Virgil, if you put it up along the side like that you’re going to break your thumb when you hit something. Like this.” He put his thumb on the underside of his fingers, and Virgil and Wrath both copied it.

“Okay,” Remus said with an approving nod. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” He waved his hand, and a couple punching bags appeared over by the wall. “Let’s get started.”

…

Fighting might have been exhausting, but it didn’t take Virgil very long to realize that he fucking loved it. It was playing directly into his strengths and just reframing them in a different way. He learned pretty quickly to recognize those moments Remus said he and Wrath could create so well, and once he saw them all the time, it was incredibly satisfying to use them to his advantage. Remus said he still needed to work on not ducking and running so often, and Wrath needed to learn how to be a little more precise with his movements, but pretty soon Remus stopped taking it easy on them entirely, and they could both still keep up. Remus gave them both free access to the training room he’d created, and Virgil started finding himself in there more often than not. His new function was very happy about it. Virgil suspected he’d still be a little more ‘flight’ than ‘fight’ for a while since the latter was still so new, but he was beginning to recognize when one was the more logical move over the other in a given situation.

But something that also came as a surprise in an entirely different way was that Remus didn’t seem to want to spend all of his time fighting. In fact, more often than not, when Virgil used his new permission to head into Remus’ room without knocking, he found the side doing something else entirely. Remus was currently on a trend of making a lot of stories of grotesque animal deaths, and they freaked Virgil out, but he had to admit they were well done. He also seemed to like painting and singing, and then there was what happened when Virgil walked in today, and he found him in the bathroom doing something with his face.

“Remus?” Virgil asked, and looked down at the stuff on the counter. It was some kind of powdery thing that Remus was rubbing near his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Eyeshadow,” Remus said, without looking back over at Virgil. “Hang on, I’ll suck your dick in a second.”

“Okay, first of all, ew. Second, what do you mean eyeshadow? Your eyes don’t just look like that?”

Remus finished with the rubbing and turned to look over at Virgil. “You thought my eyelids were naturally purple?”

“Uh… they’re not?”

Remus snorted. “Okay, let me show you. Pick a color.”

Virgil looked down at the powders on the counter. “Uh, black. Why?”

“C’mere,” Remus said, picking up a different tool and rubbing the foam end in the black powder. Virgil stepped closer, and then Remus suddenly got very close to his face, very quickly.

Virgil flinched backwards, and a second later, he gagged. “Dude, your breath stinks.”

“Why thank you! Now hold still Virge, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Virgil did manage to hold still, despite Remus’ close distance and terrible breath, and after a while, Remus leaned back. “Hmm. Okay, what do you think?”

He turned Virgil to face the mirror, and Virgil leaned closer in surprise. “You made it black,” he said, reaching up towards the space under his eyes.

“Hey, don’t touch it!” Remus called, catching his hand. “You’ll rub it away!”

Virgil moved his hand down but didn’t stop looking in the mirror. After another moment, he started to grin. “That’s cool as shit,” he said. “I didn’t know you could do that!”

“You’ve never heard of makeup before?” Remus asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve kind of been focused on other things for most of my life,” Virgil said, looking down at the powder. “How often do you do that?”

“Every morning,” Remus said. “How else do you think I look this hot all the time?”

Virgil grinned at him. “Can I have some?”

Remus brightened. “Absolutely!” He waved his hand, and a new set of the foam tools he used and the powder appeared in his hand. “Go nuts!”

Virgil took them and shoved them into his hoodie pocket, which was still where he kept important things like food and water, so the eyeshadow ended up sitting on top of the snacks and water bottle he had in case Deceit decided not to let them into the kitchen that night.

“If you want tips or tricks at any point, let me know and I’ll help you out!” Remus said happily. “Dee hasn’t ever really been interested in this stuff, so I learned it all on my own.”

“I think I might just take you up on that,” Virgil said, since Remus obviously did a fantastic job based on Virgil’s limited knowledge.

He put the eyeshadow in his bathroom later, which had never been much to him before other than just a bathroom, as well as his source of drinking water. But after that, Virgil ended up there every morning to put eyeshadow on. Wrath smiled at him when he noticed it and said he looked good, which cemented Virgil deciding to keep it right then and there. When he told Remus, he taught him how to summon his own, so he didn’t have to ask every time.

Wrath hadn’t been doing anything with makeup, but he was trying different outfit styles, and he seemed to like the experimenting just as much as the way most of them looked on him. It was fun to see him try. Remus offered them plenty of sparkly outfits too, which Virgil definitely wasn’t going to take him up on.

He was dreading the inevitable day that Wrath did.

…

One of the things Virgil was still getting used to was the idea that they could spend time in the commons now. The first time Avarice spotted them there, Virgil had needed to try hard not to let his fear show, but it was helped along by Avarice’s rage quickly turning into the same look of forced respect he’d given Remus.

It had been gleefully satisfying, but also cemented the fact that Virgil had pretty much already been certain of. If he wanted to keep this lifestyle, if he didn’t want to have to fear for his life anymore, if he wanted Avarice’s delicious forced respect, Deceit was the one he couldn’t piss off. Because when Avarice talked to Remus, or now Virgil and Wrath too, the emotion underlying the respect was anger.

With Deceit, it was fear.

So when Virgil spent time in the commons, he made a point to make sure Deceit wasn’t around, at least until he could figure out whether or not he was okay with Virgil being there. Virgil had warned Wrath of this too, but in typical “fairness” fashion, Wrath had taken to spending time in the commons whenever he wanted because he said he deserved it.

So when Virgil spotted him looking through the movie closet, he immediately walked over and put his hands on his hips. “Are you nuts?”

Wrath jumped slightly and turned. A second later, he brightened. “Oh, hey Virgil! You want to watch a movie with me?”

“You can’t stay out here in the commons that long!” Virgil exclaimed.

“Yes, I can. We can,” Wrath said.

“Deceit will find out,” Virgil hissed.

Wrath narrowed his eyes, even if Virgil could see the fear underneath. “It’ll be fine,” he said.

“Wrath—”

“Look, Deceit can’t kick us out of the commons whenever he wants,” Wrath says.

“Of course he can! He’s Deceit! He gets to do anything he wants!”

“Yes,” Wrath said. “But it would—”

“It wouldn’t be fair, I get it,” Virgil groaned, looking up at the ceiling.

“Actually, I was going to say it would be cruel. We deserve to stay out here and relax if we want to. Come on, let’s watch…” He pulled a movie out. “This one.”

Virgil looked at the movie and then raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me? You want to risk getting caught out here by Deceit in order to watch a movie called The Little Mermaid?”

Wrath looked down at the movie, seemed to hesitate for a minute, then narrowed his eyes further and crossed his arms. “Absolutely.”

Virgil gave a long sigh and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. If Wrath was going to be out here, it’s not like he could leave him by himself. “Fine,” Virgil said, shaking his head. “Let’s do it.”

Wrath lit up, and they walked over to the couch to sit down and watch a movie that was absolutely going to be a cheesy terrible kid film.

…And it sort of started out that way.

“There’s a sea witch?” Virgil asked in surprise, leaning a little closer to the TV.

“That’s what it said,” Wrath said, glancing over at him. “Why? Is that interesting?”

“What? No,” Virgil said, crossing his arms and glaring away. “I’m just… surprised.”

Wrath snickered, and Virgil decided he wasn’t going to have any more positive reactions for the rest of the movie.

Unfortunately, that didn’t last long, because then the sea witch started singing. By the time Ariel ended up as a human up on the land, Virgil was fully invested, and there he had no doubt that Wrath could tell. But he couldn’t find it in him to care, because Wrath had been pushing him to find hobbies for years, and did he mention that the sea witch could sing?!

By the time they reached the mind control of Prince Eric and the wedding that Ariel had to rush to stop, Virgil was up and pacing back and forth while making sure he could still see the screen. The final battle came a few minutes later, and Virgil just straight up walked back and yanked Wrath off the couch and started shaking him (while still watching the movie, of course). “Dude, she sounds like she’s using my tempest voice and looks like a giant evil Remus, could this get any more awesome?!”

Wrath started laughing, and then as Virgil watched, this children’s movie’s climax ended with the prince stabbing the witch in the fucking stomach. Virgil sat on the couch and gaped for every second of the happy ending.

“Oh. my. god.” He turned and looked at Wrath. “Who made that movie? Is there more? Oh my god, please let there be more!”

“Uh…” Wrath grabbed the case for the tape they’d been watching and looked for a name. After a second, his face screwed up in confusion. “Um, I think it’s… Gisney?”

“The hell kind of name is that?” Virgil asked, peering over at it. “Oh whatever, is there more? Come on, we have to find more!”

He dragged Wrath back over towards the closet and started handing him movies that had the same logo on it. There were quite a few in there, and he handed Wrath a movie called Bambi, one called The Lion King, Hercules, Mulan, Tarzan, Cinderella. There were far too many for them to be able to watch all of them right now, but they were definitely going to sit here until dinnertime, Deceit be damned.

…Okay not really. But unless he literally screamed at Virgil to get out, Virgil was staying right here. He had movies to watch.

…

Wrath was surprisingly willing to watch what they learned were called Disney movies with Virgil most of the time, despite the fact that he didn’t seem to love them as much as Virgil did. He still liked them, but Virgil wasn’t sure what else he could do other than eat, sleep, and breathe Disney until he finished all of the movies, and Wrath didn’t seem quite that interested. There were days that he wanted to do other things, and Virgil wasn’t going to hold him hostage, but he also didn’t want to watch movies out in the commons alone in case Deceit got mad, which was how Virgil ended up asking Remus.

Remus was surprised and amused when he learned that Virgil hadn’t ever heard of Disney before recently, and said Virgil would probably get along with his brother.

“The Core Creativity?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow. “I definitely wouldn’t.”

“Don’t shoot the idea down so quickly,” Remus said with a grin. “He likes Disney too, you know.”

“And I would bet you that is where the similarities end,” Virgil said, looking through the movies on the table and trying to decide if he should watch Dumbo or The Fox and the Hound next.

“You might be right about that,” Remus admitted. “Okay, hey, enough with the fantasy type stuff. My turn to pick a Disney movie.”

“I don’t know if I want to know what you would consider a good Disney movie,” Virgil said. “You can’t just appreciate the giant tentacle monsters when they come up?”

“Oh, come on. You’ll like this one!” Remus exclaimed.

Virgil gave him a look for a moment, considered the chances of that being true, and shrugged. “Alright. What’s it called?”

“Okay, so this isn’t a traditional Disney movie, but it totally counts because Disney’s still the company behind it and it’s awesome,” Remus said, jumping up and moving over to the closet, and returning with a movie he shoved into Virgil’s hands called The Nightmare Before Christmas.

“Oh, hey, what’s Christmas?” Virgil asked. “I see decorations set up for it every winter, but I’ve never actually gotten to celebrate it.”

“Eh, the movie will explain it,” Remus said, waving his hand dismissively. “Besides, this is really a Halloween movie.”

“What’s Halloween?” Virgil asked.

Remus gaped at him. “You don’t know what Halloween is?”

“I don’t really know what Christmas is either,” Virgil pointed out. “I’ve heard of it. It’s a holiday, right? Something with costumes?”

“Um, it’s the holiday! It’s so much better than Christmas! Have you not noticed that every September through November the mindscape down here practically turns into a haunted house?”

“Oh, is that what all of that was for,” Virgil said. “I appreciated that. It gave me tons of new hiding places and ways to blend in.”

“Virgil,” Remus said, pulling Virgil closer and grabbing him by the shoulders so he could look him in the eyes. “Halloween is not about being scared. It’s about being scary! Well, and going around to strangers’ houses and not getting kidnapped and getting free candy, but also being scary! Just— oh my god, sit down, we’re watching this movie.”

Remus sat Virgil back in the spot that he’d dragged him out of in the first place and played the Halloween movie that was still technically a Disney movie. But it wasn’t long before Virgil found that unlike traditional Disney movies, that hid dark implications under the surface, this movie was entirely about that kind of stuff. He got sucked in just as quickly to this one as he did to a typical Disney movie, and it was clear Remus was noticing, because Virgil could feel him bouncing on the couch next to him. By the end of it, they were both talking excitedly about it and shooting ideas back and forth.

“Hey,” Remus said suddenly, cutting off one of Virgil’s questions. “Do you want to help me make decorations this year?”

Virgil started grinning. “I can do that?”

“Are you kidding, that would be awesome!” Remus exclaimed, jumping up off the couch and pulling Virgil with him. “Hang on, let me show you what my ideas are this time, because see, with last years look, it was good, but it was missing a little something. And you know all of Thomas’ fears, so I think that could be really helpful, and—” Remus kept going on with ideas, and by the time they got back to the room Virgil was thinking too. He wasn’t sure how much help he would be, given that he wasn’t Creativity, but he was willing to share thoughts or be a rubber duck if Remus wanted.

And this Halloween thing sounded better than he thought it had been. Virgil found himself looking forward to it.

…

There were times Virgil wondered if he would ever stop being a little bit afraid all the time. He couldn’t see Avarice without having some level of a fear reaction, despite the side not being much of a part of his life in any way anymore. Virgil spotted him slinking around the halls with sides like Malice or Cruelty and sometimes smirked at him when they made eye contact, because he knew Avarice couldn’t do anything about it anymore. Sometimes he would have a nightmare about Avarice and get out of bed at night and go check to make sure Wrath was still alive. Sometimes Wrath would check on him, so at least he wasn’t alone in that regard.

However, most of the time none of that was an issue. Because as his brain finally started to settle down a little bit, Virgil realized that life as part of Remus and Deceit’s crew was actually pretty good. He liked Remus a lot. He and Wrath both sparred with him often, and Remus helped him try different styles of makeup (though black eyeshadow was still his usual). Wrath spent a lot of time helping Remus edit stories he was working on, and was surprisingly good at it. Virgil realized after a couple months that he could actually leave Wrath alone and not have to worry about returning to find him dead. But there was still one part of all of this change that didn’t feel as good, and that was Deceit.

Virgil could not wrap his head around the side. Why give them free access to the commons? At least, he would have stopped Virgil by now if he wasn’t allowed to hang out there, right? Why check on Remus all the time? He didn’t have to worry that Remus would turn up dead, did he? Why on earth did he make meals for all of them? He was teaching Wrath how to cook, why was he doing that? He didn’t gain anything out of any of that. In fact, sometimes he seemed irritated when Remus interrupted him to show him something, or ask him something, but he stopped anyway and gave it his attention.

Virgil couldn’t wrap his head around it. So most of the time, he ended up avoiding Deceit. It’s what he’d done in the past. Stay out of his way, don’t give Deceit a reason to sign off on his death. They could tolerate each other’s existence, and that would be fine. He didn’t expect anyone to call him out on it.

It ended up being Wrath that did so.

Virgil was hanging his new Nightmare Before Christmas posters in his room and listening to a band he found. It was called Evanescence, and it was fantastic. He needed to hear more of this kind of music in general. He’d see what he could find the next couple of weeks.

“Hey.”

Virgil yelped and nearly fell off the chair. He heard just as surprised of a cry behind him and was caught and steadied by Wrath.

“Fuck,” Virgil said, spinning around. “Don’t you know better than to sneak up on me like that by now?”

“Sorry, I was planning on knocking,” Wrath said, smiling a little.

“And what happened to that plan?” Virgil asked, reaching out and pausing the music he was listening to.

“I don’t know, it’s just… nice,” Wrath said, looking around the room.

“What’s nice?”

“Watching you figure out who you are then being yourself. I told you it was worth it.”

“Yes, yes, you were right all along. Shut up,” Virgil said, finishing adjusting his posters and climbing down from the chair. “So what’s going on?”

“I was wondering if I could ask you something,” Wrath said, as Virgil picked up his desk chair and moved it back over to his desk.

Virgil gave him a look over his shoulder. “Well, now that I’m appropriately anxious, sure.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Wrath said. “I mean, I don’t think.”

“Wow, thanks, now I’m not anxious at all.”

“Yeah, that probably didn’t help huh. Look just— why do you never talk to Deceit?”

Virgil startled at the question. “What do you mean? Did— has he said something to you? Does he not like it or something?”

“What? No, I just noticed. I mean, it’s one thing if you still just talked to me, but you talk to Remus all the time, and you two hang out on your own too. What’s the deal with Deceit? He doesn’t bite.”

“Are you kidding me? Yes he does! Or, he could. How many other sides do you think get to decide my fate, Wrath? You think I’m going to let my guard down around someone that powerful? He’s not going to keep us around just because! I’m not going to risk screwing that up any more than I have to! I don’t think you should either.”

But Wrath just shook his head. “That’s not what he’s like, Virgil. You should get to know him. He’s not nearly as bad as the idea you have of him.”

“Oh, no, he’s just the side that let Avarice run unchecked until the point where it almost killed us,” Virgil said. “I’m sure he’s just such a warm and caring person.”

“That’s not…” Wrath sighed. “I didn’t say he was a perfect side who can do no wrong,” he said. “But neither is Remus. He used to torment you much more directly, and you’re okay spending time with him.”

“That’s different. That gave me some protection. It was a mutually beneficial relationship.”

“And you don’t think Remus is sorry?”

Virgil blinked in surprise at the question. “What?”

Wrath sighed. “Just… try talking to Deceit. Maybe try talking to both of them. I think it’ll go differently than you expect.”

Virgil didn’t quite know what to say. He hadn’t planned on talking to Deceit ever. He had always been powerful and dangerous and he scared him.

But then again… he had never expected to have a friendship with Remus either. And he couldn’t deny that’s what the two of them were now.

“I… okay,” Virgil said. “Maybe.”

Wrath brightened.

“Maybe,” Virgil reiterated. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for now,” Wrath said, and looked like he meant it.

And so Virgil did think about it. He still didn’t understand Deceit, but maybe Wrath was right, and that was something that could be helped by talking to him. First, though, he was more intrigued by what Wrath said about Remus.

“Hey, Re,” Virgil called, knocking absentmindedly on the door as he walked in. “Can I talk to you?”

Remus was dangling upside down from the ceiling by his tentacles.

“Uh… what are you doing?” Virgil asked as he approached.

“Trying to look at this painting from a different angle,” Remus said. “I don’t think it’s working. I think I might go and annoy my brother to try and get some inspiration.” He flipped himself around and landed on the bed. “What’s up?”

“I was talking to Wrath,” Virgil said, shoving his hands inside his hoodie pocket so he could fidget with his fingers. “And he said something about you feeling bad for the way you used to treat me.”

He looked up hesitantly, only to find that Remus was now looking down, pulling on his sash. “Yeah,” he muttered.

“I don’t understand why,” Virgil said, and Remus looked up instantly.

“What do you mean you don’t know why?”

“I mean… I did that on purpose. If you or Deceit had a reason to keep me around, it would make Avarice less likely to try and kill me. I knew exactly what I was getting myself into. I’m not mad at you or anything.”

Remus stared at him. “But— why jump straight to that?” he asked. “You could have asked for help.”

“From The Duke and Deceit?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow. “You realize you two are the highest authority down here, right? You weren’t going to listen to a scared single function side begging for protection for his life.”

Remus winced, meaning Virgil was right. “Yeah,” he admitted. “And that’s… kind of why I’m sorry.”

Virgil blinked. “Huh?”

“Look, I like doing deeply fucked up stuff and exploring that kind of thing,” Remus said. “That’s my whole job. But I mean, people also need some kind of human companionship. Dee-Dee says it’s important for me to have people that I care about, people who can trust that I won’t hurt them or abandon them. And you…” Remus crossed his arms and looked away. “You’re family now. You and Wrath. And I came really close to losing that. Or like, never having it at all. So I guess I just want to grab past me and shake him by the shoulders and tell him how important you and Wrath are gonna become to me. And that he should be doing more to help you.”

Virgil didn’t know quite what to say to that for a moment. “I think…” he said finally. “I think that’s just how life is supposed to work, Remus. Once people start to matter to you, you treat them as such. And you shouldn’t be expected to do it beforehand. It’s not your fault the stakes were life or death.”

“I mean it kind of is a little bit though?” Remus pointed out. “I could have easily done more to stop Avarice.”

Virgil shrugged. “Would you stop him if he tried that stuff again?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. That’s that, then. We’re all good. No need to feel bad anymore.”

Suddenly, in a way Virgil wasn’t expecting, all of the tension melted out of Remus. “Oh, thank fuck,” he said. “Because I hated it.”

Virgil laughed a little, and Remus grinned at him, and Virgil decided he liked how close they’d become too.

After a moment, Virgil glanced at the painting Remus was doing, and his face screwed up in confusion. “Uh… what exactly are you trying to do with this?” he asked.

Remus groaned. “I don’t know anymore! Okay, okay, let me just, like, run this by you.”

“Okay,” Virgil said, and settled back into the bed as Remus started to talk about the painting.

He didn’t fully realize until later that Wrath was right, and that the conversation had gone differently than expected. And also that it was… nice, to have it confirmed that Remus cared about him. It was a warm feeling, and not one that Virgil minded in the slightest.

It was for that reason that he decided the risk might be worth it, and went to go talk to Deceit. He knocked on his door shortly before lunch, and Deceit looked surprised when he opened it. “Anxiety,” he said, and Virgil realized in surprise that he’d never told Deceit the name he’d picked. “Can I help you with something?”

“Uh—” Virgil didn’t know where to take this conversation anymore. “Wrath— he uh, he said I should talk to you.”

“Oh? About what?”

Virgil looked around, trying to think of anything he could say. What did he say to Deceit? He didn’t know anything about him. He didn’t have a clue what would piss him off.

As a result, what ended up coming out of his mouth was “Are you mad that I spend so much time in the commons?”

Deceit’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why on earth would I be mad about that?”

“Uh… I don’t know. It’s just kind of— I mean. I never did that before. It was dangerous to spend too much time in the commons. I guess I’m wondering if it still… is?”

Deceit gave him a look for a long moment, and Virgil tried not to freak out.

“Come here,” Deceit said eventually, and walked back inside his room and over to his bed. Hesitantly, Virgil followed him and sat down.

“You seem to be under the implication,” Deceit said, turning to face him. “That I am cruel. That I rule this side of the mindscape with an iron fist and keep Remus around as a guard dog and keep you and Wrath around as a way to placate him. That I can and will throw any of you to the wolves at my slightest whim.”

Virgil didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t actually thought any of that directly, but… he couldn’t exactly say Deceit was wrong.

“Well, what other reasons could you have for letting us stick around?” he asked hesitantly.

Before Deceit could reply, there was a call of “Dee-Dee!” from behind and they both turned to see Remus poking his head in the door. “Can I add deodorant to my meal tonight?”

“So long as you keep track of which one is yours,” Deceit said, and Virgil turned back to look at him and saw him smiling in amusement, and something else he couldn’t quite place.

“Awesome!” Remus called happily, and bounded away again. Deceit shook his head, still smiling, and Virgil realized the second thing he couldn’t place was fondness.

“You…” he said slowly, and Deceit looked at him again. “You love him?”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “I practically raised him, Anxiety,” he said. “That would of course make it quite difficult for me to love him.”

Virgil looked back over towards the way Remus had run in, and then turned again hesitantly to Deceit. “But you… you never did anything,” he said. “Avarice was killing off half of the mindscape and you didn’t even seem to care.”

Deceit sighed. “That was a grave mistake that I should have done something about long ago,” he said. “I assumed that giving more sides multiple functions would make things easier for Thomas. I wasn’t thinking of any of the sides involved at all. But then you two showed up, and I…” he sighed again. “I didn’t think of how my actions were going to affect you,” he said plainly. “I will not make that mistake again, Anxiety.”

Virgil didn’t quite know what to say at first. But Deceit didn’t look away, and he looked completely sincere. Maybe Wrath was right about this too. Maybe he wasn’t someone to fear at all times.

“…Virgil,” he said after a moment.

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”

“That’s my name. I picked one. It’s Virgil.”

Deceit looked a little surprised, and Virgil suddenly started to doubt everything he ever decided he liked about his name, but all Deceit did was nod. “Virgil. Fair enough.” He was quiet for another moment, seemingly thinking. “Then I suppose you may call me Janus.”

Somehow, Virgil was equally surprised at the return of trust offered to him, but he nodded. “Okay. I…” he bit his lip. “Could I maybe get to know you? Since you don’t sound like you’re going to attempt to murder me the second I make a mistake?”

Janus smiled slightly, looking a mixture of amused and saddened, and nodded. “I think I would like that,” he said. “I’m about to go and cook dinner with Wrath. Would you like to join us?”

“Sure,” Virgil said, standing as Janus did. They both headed out towards the kitchen, and when Wrath noticed them coming, he smiled and raised an eyebrow at Virgil. Virgil flipped him off.

But yeah, he was glad he’d talked with Janus too.

…

It took Virgil a while to figure this out, because he couldn’t think of much that he wanted, not with his life having improved so much in ways he wasn’t used to. But Janus had told him he got something he wanted, and the idea had always sort of been in the back of his mind. After a while, Virgil did come to the conclusion that there was something he wanted and didn’t have.

He brought it up one night at dinner, after somehow managing to find a moment where Remus wasn’t in the middle of speaking.

“Um, I have an announcement,” he said, and everyone looked over at him. “So, Janus, you said that we get something in return for helping you, and I know I’ve kind of taken my time figuring it out, but I think I know.”

“Oh, yay!” Remus called. “Do you want access to my brother’s imagination with me? It’s so fun to fuck with his stuff, you have no idea—”

“I want to talk to Thomas,” Virgil said, and Remus, remarkably, stopped talking. All three members of his family were staring at him, and Virgil probably would have taken it back if it had been something he’d come up with that afternoon instead of something he’d been thinking about for a while.

Janus leaned towards him. “Virgil,” he said. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“But isn’t he what we do all of this for?” Virgil asked. “Don’t we all care about him? I want to meet him.”

“He’s not going to like you,” Janus warned. “Not at first, maybe not ever.”

“I know that,” Virgil said. Janus looked uncertain, and Remus cut in in his stead.

“Look, Thomathy’s fun to gross out,” he said. “But he’s definitely not going to like any of us. I don’t really care, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Virgey.”

“I’m not some fragile thing,” Virgil protested. “I know how to deal with hatred.”

“Neither of us loved Avarice,” Wrath said. “Hate hurts a lot more if it’s coming from someone you care about.”

“I’m not under some kind of delusion that Thomas is going to adore me,” Virgil said. “I know I’m going to get yelled at and kicked out. But my whole purpose now is to protect him. That would be easier to do if I could actually talk to him.”

Both Remus and Wrath still looked unsure, but Virgil looked back over at Janus just in time for him to nod.

“Alright,” he said. “Tomorrow you can talk to Thomas.”

The tension in Virgil’s chest released, and he started to smile. “Thank you,” he said, and Janus nodded again. Virgil still couldn’t read his expression, but he would get to talk to Thomas like he wanted, so he could live with that.

Janus told him after dinner that the two mindscapes were very closed off from each other, and while that would probably change once Virgil met Thomas, that meant that for now they needed to find an alternative way in. Luckily, Remus had access to his brother’s side of the imagination.

That meant that the next day, Virgil and Remus both headed through Remus’ imagination and towards the other half. Both sides of the imagination right now were various versions of kingdoms, separated by a high wall. Remus’ was crumbling and corrupt and overrun with monsters for him to beat up and empty buildings for him to destroy. He flew them on a dragon over most of it, but as they approached the wall, he waved it away, and Virgil was about to ask why when he noticed flowers starting to pop up. A rose bush over to the right, some lilacs to the left. He could have sworn he saw a rabbit just before it burrowed under the ground.

There was a door in the wall that Remus said he could open whenever he wanted, and he did so to present the Core Creativity’s imagination. The first thing Virgil saw was a couple stretches of the barren wasteland that looked like it should have been on this side of the wall, followed immediately by a cute forest filled with woodland creatures and flowers and whistling birds. Virgil looked back around the flowers on this side of the wall. The two halves of the imagination looked like they were bleeding into each other. Was that Remus’ doing?

Remus didn’t seem to pay any of this any mind, though, and just started walking into the other side of the imagination.

“Okay,” he said, as Virgil followed, only for Remus to stop just at the edge of the wasteland. “So he keeps the door to their mindscape way up in the castle, and I don’t want to walk all the way there. Just give me a sec.”

He waved his hand, and a dragon appeared, with a saddle on his back that looked ready for him to climb on.

“Why get rid of the one we made when we walked into your imagination just to make another one?” Virgil asked.

“I can’t make as much here. I have to make all of the things I want to bring over there in this spot right here, and my brother would have to do the same on the other side if he ever wanted to come visit me for some reason. Or I could give him permission to make stuff in my half, but he hasn’t for me, so why the hell would I do that for him? And anything I make in my imagination wouldn’t work over here. It’s like the mindscape wants to remind my brother that he’ll never fully get rid of me,” Remus said with a grin as he climbed onto the new dragon.

Virgil shrugged. He supposed that made some level of sense. He climbed onto the back of the dragon behind Remus and they both started flying towards the castle. They landed just outside it, and the villagers below them all started to scream and run and hide inside their houses. Remus blew a raspberry at them.

Virgil followed him into the castle and through the halls until they ended up stopping in front of a set of bright red double doors that looked different from the rest of the imagination.

Remus opened it and stepped back. “End of the line for me,” he said. “Have fun. I’ll be waiting to fly you home when you get back.”

“Thanks,” Virgil said, steeling his nerves. He stepped through the doors, and they swung shut behind him. He jumped and looked back at it. At least he would only have to do this part once, before Thomas knew about him and he just got to just appear out with him. He crept down the hallway, listening for voices, and picked up on them just before he made it around the corner. He hung back a second and peeked around the wall.

There was the Core Creativity, foot braced on a coffee table and sword stuck up in the air. He was going on a long rant to who Virgil was pretty sure was Logic, who was flipping through a book on his couch and looking amused and irritated at the same time.

“Okay,” came one last voice, and the last side that could only be Morality appeared from another room, carrying a platter of what looked like cookies. “They’re finally done.”

“Magnificent!” Core Creativity called happily, finally climbing down off the coffee table and grabbing a cookie. Morality offered one to Logic, who took it, and then grabbed one for himself. “I was just explaining how my newest story is coming along! Would you like to hear it, Padre?”

“I’d love to,” Morality said happily, and Virgil ducked back behind the wall to try and process what he was seeing. The core sides didn’t seem that different from his own family. Of course, everything up here was way too bright, and the three of them seemed like idiots who were way too optimistic about everything all the time, but other than that, they looked like a family that loved and supported each other. Why had Virgil expected anything different?

“Oh!” Core Creativity called suddenly, cutting himself off in the middle of his sentence. “Thomas is calling us!”

Virgil looked back around the corner again, and saw everyone rising to their feet, like Thomas calling them was just something that happened on a regular Tuesday.

…Holy shit, it probably was.

Virgil watched them open a white door on the wall across the room, and all of them headed through it towards Thomas.

Virgil ran into the room as soon as they all left it and opened the door himself, and through it, suddenly, was Thomas. He was sitting on his bed in his room, and Virgil took a moment just to look at him.

He was wonderful. He looked nervous about something, which was probably Virgil’s fault, but he was also smiling, and he looked up at the other sides with pleasantness in his expression, like he wanted to see them.

Virgil shook himself. That wasn’t what he was going to get, he needed to remember that. Sure enough, when he listened to the voices on the other side of the door, he heard Thomas speaking.

“I’ve just been feeling a little more anxious than usual lately. Is something going on? Are you guys okay?”

Virgil took a breath. That was his cue if he ever heard one. He took a breath and disappeared, reappearing on the other side of the door and right in front of Thomas.

Four cries of surprise sounded, and all of them turned to look directly at him.

Virgil smiled, and he was pretty sure it came off way less friendly than he intended. He was anxious, sue him. Either way, though, he looked directly at Thomas and prepared himself to say hello to his center.

“Sup.”

#sanders sides #teenage sides #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #wrath sanders #my fic

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thenameisel · 4 years ago

Text

Origin Stories Part Five: Follow Me

My first impression is of the pain. Agonizing, prickling pain. Like a million tiny needles stitching me back together.

But it fades so quickly, was it even there in the first place? I’m not even exactly sure what hurt. My lungs? My ribs? My throat? Everywhere?

There's an ache in my side that's subsiding too.

What happened? Did anything happen? I feel lost. Adrift. But also weightless and uncaring like I’ve just come out of a drugged sleep.

I open my eyes.

My hands are resting in my lap. Lose, relaxed, forgotten. I’m sitting on something hard and cold. The same unyielding sensation is at my back. I find it comforting.

There's a glint of white and I jerk my head upwards to see a small flying drone less than a foot from my face. It’s star shaped, facets shifting back and forth. With something moving to focus on, the fog in my head starts to thin.

Somehow I just know it's studying me.

“Titan. Updating calculations.” The masculine voice is calm and factual. “Pleasure to meet you. I have a lot to discuss with you, but I’m going to need you to follow me. This area is not safe.”

I open my mouth to ask… and a dozen questions come to mind. But before I can decide on one a primal yell pierces the air. The ground tremors.

Any remaining shreds of apathy is chased away by a shot of cold adrenalin.

I look around quickly, absorbing my environment. I’m sitting on a wide sidewalk, concrete wall to my back. The four lane road is pitted and cracked. Rusted out cars line both sides, and various other debris litter the pavement. The buildings are tall and square. Uniform and utilitarian.

The ground tremors again. Stronger this time.

Whatever is making it, is coming this way.

The done gets even closer, filling my vision.

Somehow I can tell he's agitated.

“We need to go. Now. Whatever it is, by my figures, is approaching at a rate that would have it here in five minutes. There’s an outpost fourteen blocks from here. If we can make it there, we’ll be safe.”

“Allright.” I say, my voice sounds dry. Unused. I push myself upright, the drone bobbing impatiently. “Lets go.”

He takes off down the street, and I have to follow at a brisk jog to keep up. I manage, somehow, despite the weight of the leather and metal armor I'm wearing.

We continue for a few blocks, without seeing a soul. Each open space, intersection and break between buildings, the drone checks carefully before stepping out into the open.

Soon I pick up the habit too. I have no idea what we’re looking for, but this empty world looks abandoned and dead.

Suddenly I see movement in my peripheral vision. I stop in my tracks, absorbed with what I see.

In the cracked and pitted glass of a once reflective window, I see a man. He’s got a stern face with chiseled features. Wide square jaw. Piercing eyes set under a heavy brow. Large nose. An unkept mess of blond hair frames his face, complementing the light bronze skin. The figure fills the pane.

The drone realizes I’ve stopped and comes back to my side. He looks to the reflection and back to me and makes an odd beeping chirp.

“Yup. That’s you. That’s what you look like.” he seems slightly regretful. “I wish we had more time. But we need to keep moving.”

I tear my eyes away and we set off again. We can still feel whatever is making the ground shake, but we thankfully seem to be outpacing it. Good.

Around the halfway mark I see a figure down one of the side streets. I duck behind a vehicle and wave at the drone. But he's turned away, checking another area. I don't dare touch him, in fear of startling him into making noise.

I yearn for him to turn around.

Suddenly he does, and is beside me in a heartbeat, silent. His singular eye pulsing rapidly. A wave of worry and concern hits me like a gust of wind.

Something clicks. I understand.

I try my best to picture what I'd seen, and where. Add in a few hand gestures for good measure, hoping I can get the point across.

The drone bobs once, and I get a distinct impression of acknowledgment. Good! Not sure how he understood, but he did.

Suddenly the little drone spins as if deciding something, then zips towards my head. I throw my hands up instinctively, but before he impacts, he vanishes in a flurry of sparks!

'There. This will be easier. Don't make a sound! I'm still here. Just… not in the material 'here'. Only you can hear me. I can hear you too, if you concentrate like you just did. I'll explain more later. But just know we're linked.'

I nod. Then unsure if he could see the gesture, tried to think 'yes'.

'Good good. Just like that. And I can see what you see. And a little more. Now peek around the corner again.'

I do so and come face to face with a set of four blue glowing eyes. They blink one at a time in rapid succession.

It screams.

I punch it.

From fist to shoulder my arm is covered in arcing blue electricity. But it doesn't hurt, in fact it barely tickles.

The creature, it's certainly not human, collapses to the ground twitching. It's facial features, whatever they were, are a pulped mess of purple ichor and gore. Its neck is at an odd angle. Within moments it stops moving entirely.

I killed it. I didn't even know what it was. What it's motives were. And I killed it. I didn't even wait to see if it was a threat. Did it have a family? Friends? And I JUST KILLED IT. MAYBE IT WASN’T HOSTILE. AND I JUST-

'Stop! Please! It's ok. It's ok.' The drone says in my head. Trying to be soothing. He manages somewhat. 'That was a Fallen. An invader from another world. And trust me, if you hadn’t struck first it definitely would have attacked.'

I shudder. Try not to think about it. But I just killed-

'Let's go. There will be more on their way.'

Ok. We resume our jog, this time the drone pointing out directions from inside my head. We don't see anything else.

Three blocks from the outpost a wave of agitation envelopes me. I don't know why.

'RUN!'

The screams come from behind, hooting and hollering. A hissing bolt flies past my head. Cold fear grips my gut.

I muster as much speed I can, weaving to keep anything between myself and my pursuers.

'LEFT! The building! Inside!'

I follow the directions, ducking through a broken door. Inside, the building has seen better days. Most of the adjacent wall is gone. A good portion of the roof too.

What purpose it served I can't tell with the rubble, especially since I'm doing my best to not trip.

'OUT! Then left again.' the drone says 'I'm trying to contact the outpost.'

I hope he's successful.

We continue ducking through buildings, trying to lose the Fallen. Or at least get some distance. But we're unsuccessful, the gap is closing.

Damn they move fast.

'Ok. I got through! They know we're coming! Just right round the next corner, down the road, and the outpost is right ahead. You can't miss it!'

I dart round the corner onto a wide avenue. More of the boring boxy buildings line each side. Ahead on a slight incline is a traffic circle. Right in the middle is a newer looking concrete bunker.

That has to be it.

Unfortunately, there is very little cover.

'Don't think just run!' the drone urges.

I nod and push myself as fast as I can. Safety is within sight.

I notice the door to the bunker open and a figure emerges. It's a little far for details, especially since I'm running for my life, but I get the impression of a large figure, all dressed in white, and a bright splash of orange at its middle.

Pain bursts through my left arm and I stumble. Somehow I manage to catch myself and keep going.

'Don't look back!'

I look back. And immediately regret not listening to the drone. There's at least a dozen Fallen behind me. The insect-like creatures jump and dart unnaturally. A few of them take shots at me with long rifles.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" a new voice. Female. "RUN YOU IDIOT."

I turn back just in time to see a white figure on top of a nearby truck. This one is much smaller than what came out of the bunker. She's wearing a white and pink cape and holding a graceful silver recurve bow.

She starts firing on the Fallen.

I stagger forward. Clutching my arm I do my best to keep moving. But I'm running out of energy.

The woman sees and chucks a grenade at me. I flinch and try to dodge. There's an odd noise and a flash. Recovering, I notice my body has developed an odd transparent shimmer.

"TRAVELER’S SAKE JUST RUN!"

I do my best. But all I can manage is a jog. With the cloaking, I hope it's enough.

We clear the halfway mark, then two thirds. The cloaking fails with a sputter. The woman with the bow a couple dozen paces behind, keeping the Fallen's attention. The sound of their rifles fills the air.

Then the ground rushes up to meet me.

I crash into the pavement. Hard.

I manage to push myself up enough to see the Fallen getting way too close. The woman is almost on top of me now.

I can hear another set of footfalls, these truly deafening, coming from the direction of the bunker.

"DOWN!" she screams as she dives towards me.

The air vibrates with a sound like a truly giant bell has been rung. One deafening peal.

Something very large and very purple flies over the two of us.

The sound of the Fallen's rifles is suddenly muffled. As if a wall was in the way.

The woman laughs and stands up. The bow is gone. In her hands is an ornate hand cannon. She turns towards the Fallen and starts firing.

I push myself up on my elbows again, and I am greeted with a hell of a sight.

Between the woman and the Fallen is a massive figure in heavy armor. The helmet has bull-like sweeping horns. Shoulder pauldrons that are almost comically large. Bright orange sash at the waist. The armor is white, but a purple aura shimmers back and forth overtop like turbulent waves at sea. The figure holds up a glittering purple shield, from which projects a large translucent wall.

Amazingly, the Fallen's shots bounce off the wall, but the caped woman's pass right through. Within moments she's killed half of our pursuers, and the rest scatter, terrified.

She waits a few moments to be sure, then leaps atop a car for a better view. She snaps off a few more shots before raising her arms and hollering in triumph.

The figure in the heavy white armor drops the shield, which dissolves into thin air, the purple aura with it.

Footsteps thunder as this behemoth turns, and walks to me. Crouches and offers me a hand.

"How ya doin, New Light?" The voice is female, and synthetic sounding. Powerful and space filling.

I take the offered hand. The armored giant pulls me up. Surprisingly she's about my height.

"You can come out now little Ghost." She booms. "It's safe. Come heal your Titan."

That's the second time I've heard that. 'Titan'.

And the first time I've heard 'Ghost'.

I want to ask who these people are, what she means, but the drone appears in a sudden burst of sparks.

He makes a humming noise and hits my bleeding arm with a blue light. A weird sensation like thousands of tiny needles prick at the wound. Before I can register the fact that not only my arm, but also the hole in the leather are being rapidly closed up, both are gone entirely, as is the pricking sensation.

I stare dumbfounded.

"You haven't been around long, eh?" The giant asks, removing her helm. Wide eyed I study her metallic, almost skull like, face. It's covered in orange and blue stripes. Her eyes glow.

"Look at that wonder!” she says, “This is why I love pulling outpost duty!"

She laughs, a full bodied laugh, and pats me on the shoulder.

"Let's go inside. We can sit and chat. I'm sure you have questions." Her hand is still on my shoulder, firmly pushing me towards the bunker.

The first woman appears suddenly beside us, flashes a thumbs up, and darts toward the bunker.

"That's Chiri Ra. She's a Hunter. Damned good one too."

Another figure appears in the bunker doorway. This one is robed like some kind of priest. His outfit is also white, but accented with sky blue. Chiri runs up to him and hugs him.

"That's Chiri's husband, Sig Ra. He's a Warlock."

The little drone keeping pace beside me is twitching. I can feel the anxiety.

"And I'm McKay. Titan and leader of this little band." McKay notices the drone and grins. Or, a close approximation of a grin on that metal face. "Go ahead little Ghost. I take it your introductions got interrupted?"

The drone bobs once.

McKay pats my shoulder again and nods.

"Go ahead. When you're done, join us inside, ok?"

With that, the giant robotic woman who called herself a Titan, went inside the bunker, ushering the other two ahead of her.

Once alone, the two of us just study each other for a few moments. His tiny body, made up of metal facets, rotates back and forth around a central sphere.

Eventually, he starts.

"I am so sorry. None of that went according to plan. At all. I tried to calculate for a stress free first day but when I found your spark… I just... I couldn't control myself. Couldn't think. I just had to…. It won't happen again."

The poor drone's voice is as twitchy as it's star-shaped form. It's clearly embarrassed by the whole thing. I can't quite grasp why though.

"Hey." I say, my voice firming as I finally use it, "It's ok. Why don't you start now? It's safe here, I think."

The drone holds position in the air, his outer shell moving in measured, clipped movements. I can tell he's thinking.

"Ok." He says, sounding more confident. More like the first time.

He does a little circle, darting a few paces away, then back. On his return he seems ready.

"Pleasure to meet you.” he does a little bob. ”You are a Titan. Strong, brave, reliable. And I am a Ghost. I brought you back, from the dead. To help protect what’s left of Humanity. I will always be there to support you however I can. I'm your Ghost, and you are my Titan. "

That helps some. But now that we have a moment to ourselves, my lack of knowledge is becoming hard to ignore. As for the complete lack of memories before today… that's disturbing. Especially the being dead part.

"Can I... ask some things? I feel a little lost."

"Of course! Anything! If I can answer it I will!"

Exhausted, I lower myself to the ground, bunker wall at my back. It's solidity makes me feel… safe.

I consider what to ask first.

On a whim I rest my hands, palm up, on my lap. The drone, no, Ghost, looks first to me, then my hands. After a moment he gracefully sinks and settles into my hands. I could close them entirely over his tiny body.

The sole eye watches me patiently, waiting for me to speak next.

Eventually I make my decision.

"What… is going on? What are you? What am I?"

The eye rotates slightly. Concern. Which dissipates to humor.

"Oh. Yes. We’ve… got a whole lot to go over don’t we?”

We talk for hours.

The sun sets.

The night sky becomes rife with stars.

Eventually my head sinks to my chest in exhaustion. He’s busily recounting some grand war, but I just can't stay awake any longer. My last thoughts before falling asleep is while I’m still rather lost, I’m glad I’ve got this little Ghost by my side. He seems to know what's what.

#Destiny #destiny the game #destiny 2 #Hunter #Titan #Warlock #Ghost

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sweetestlamb · 4 years ago

Text

Breakaway

Summary: Gang-Tae stops running from Mun-Yeong and finally runs away with her. Feelings are felt. Firsts are had.

Author’s note: So, episode ripped my heart out, stepped on it with Mun-Yeong’s heels, backed up on with her car and then trampled it like the flowers Gang-Tae gave her . This is my escape from that reality and more possible heart crushing events tomorrow. I changed some events around, added some, just let my mind run wild. No smut this time (finally), Gang-Tae is so innocent and I couldn’t let her ravish him before their first kiss lol

Just a heads up, Mun-Yeong will be pretty forceful in this and it might be triggering for some people, the shows always casts her advances as funny because we know Gang-Tae wants her too. But consent is always important for both parties, I don’t take that lightly. I am just trying to stay true to the characters we are shown.

He has never punched anyone before. Not because he didn’t want to, he has wanted to hurt many others before. Viciously. To keep punching until they were a pulp on the ground. Bullies growing up, arrogant men who weigh their child’s worth on a scale, ignorant people who see a weak person and want to break them down. He has wanted to hurt others before, has felt the anger pulse through him and clot his blood, and then exhaled it all out watching it leave his body like a cold breath in the dead of winter.

So why? Why couldn’t he abate his anger now.

Watching her fall to the ground, shattered every wall and glass container he had surrounding his emotions. It is said when people lose themselves to anger, they see red. He hadn’t seen anything. Couldn’t hear, speak, breathe, suppress. The only thing he could do was hurt. Hurt him like he had hurt her. She was hardly a damsel and he was certainly no prince, but he wanted to protect her. Maybe could pass for a knight. His knuckles tingled remembering the sensation of the bones as they connected in the brutal collision. God, what have I done?

“Where do you want to go? Europe is always good for travel. Or we could go somewhere warmer, Serengeti?” Mun-Yeong voice breaks the silence, brimming with as much excitement as he has ever heard from her.

He smiles at the idea. Serengeti. There would be so many animals. Leave it to her to choose a location that others would shy from in fear.

“I don’t have a passport.” He replies, mild shame in his tone. He told her before he has never traveled before, the constant moving doesn’t count because those aren’t pleasurable, just necessary for survival. He has never been somewhere because he wanted to go, much less gone somewhere with someone he...cares for. He turns to look at her profile, spellbound as she replies. Her skin is blemish-free, pristine and soft- her injured cheek had been hot to the touch, but he couldn’t ignore how creamy it felt under his palm. He could touch her for a million years and never grow weary. What was it about her that called out to every cell in his body?

“Then where can we go?” She responds impatient as always, glancing over at him with heated eyes as if daring him. Her lips push out in a slight pout and he watches them avidly. Hungrily. Terrified.

“Let’s go to the mountains and the field.” He replies, hands trembling because without his leash he doesn’t know how to act. It feels like a piece of him has been melted away. His body an open wound.

She turns and smiles at him, his heart flutters at the sweetness of it.

The air is crisp, he feels all the moisture evaporate from his mouth and instinctively his tongue laps out to swipe across his parched lips. His step onto the bridge, making his heart beat quicken in both trepidation and exuberance, all his worries fall through the cracks in the bridge and he feels weightless. His second step brings a smile to his face and looks over to see Mun-Yeong, only she’s not beside him.

He turns around and sees an emotion on her face he has never seen before.

“Let’s go.” He encourages her with a blinding smile.

“No.” Her entire body shakes in refusal as well and he tilts his head curiously, “Why not?” He can’t think of any reason she wouldn’t want to do this. She is fearless.

“I’m scared.” Breathless laughter bursts from his chest at the ridiculous idea. This is the same Mun-Yeong who approached a man intending to take his life and that of his daughter, he still has a souvenir from that day. He glances fondly down at the scar on his hand. Jae-Su’s disapproving face momentarily flashes in his mind, furthering his laugh.

“Why are you laughing? It’s not funny!” Mun-Yeong berates him, stomping with her more practical shoes which he still thinks are too fancy but they were the best he could convince to wear. Her armor.

“I can’t do this with Sang-Tae so I wanted to do it with you. “ He cuts his laughter with he realizes the slight shake in her petite body is not from the mountain air.

He watches his words take an unexpected effect on her. Her dark eyes find his and he can’t look away, the fear in hers twists and turns, wrapping armor around itself. “Okay, I will do it with you.” She takes a shaky step onto the bridge, reaching for the railing with white-knuckled fists.

He smiles fondly at her determination. Is she doing this for me?

Then in true Mun-Yeong fashion she demands loudly, “Hey, carry me. Give me a piggyback ride!” He laughs again, turning around and quickening his speed. Happy at the chance to tease her for once. He hears her protesting behind him only further fueling his joy, one foot in front of the other and soon he realizes he is steps away from the end.

He stops. Her words echo in his mind, “Okay, I will do it with you.” It doesn’t feel right to do this without her beside him. He turns back and sees her slowly, still crossing despite her obvious fear. Then she starts to sing, “If I ever feel lonely..” and he runs back to get her.

She doesn’t notice his presence until she almost walks into his chest. She looks up in surprise. “Why did you come back?” She asks genuinely confused, he isn’t the only one not used to others doing things for him. “I want to do it with you.”

He extends his hand for the second time that day. She hesitates again. Looking at him like he’s a dream that could vanish at any point. Then she grabs onto his hand, he winces at the strength of her hold.

“Hey, don’t hold so tightly!”

“Shut up, if you let go I’ll kill you.”

“Are you ready?” They are so close that their shoulders are brushing. Her warmth seeps into him.

“Yes.” Subconsciously her head shakes no. He is reminded of all the times he has told her no when his body was screaming yes.

She takes the first step this time and they are off, she complains about the shakiness of the bridge and squeezes his hand in annoyance when he mentions the apt name of the bridge. He can’t help but smile has they cross at the bridge at a much more lethargic pace than his own dash. His strong, fearless Mun-Yeong undone by a bridge.

No, not undone. Paused. Despite her apparent terror, she is doing it anyway because of him. When they reach the end, she turns to him and her triumphant smile is illuminating. Her red-stained lips are wide and inviting. He blushes recalling their almost kiss back at the castle. he can’t deny it, he wanted that kiss like it was air in his lungs. The way her eyes had widened in shock, made him falter for a second, before he pressed on, leaning down to join their hungry lips. Until the blood curdling sound of some unknown creature had broken the moment.

He ran away and she let him.

“I did it.” Her breathless words reach his ears and he turns to look at her again, reaching his hand out settling it on her soft, dark head. With a barely there touch, he strokes her head before saying “You were so brave, you’re amazing.”

She smile is supernova bright.

No one has ever taken photos of him before and her requests throws him off kilter, he hasn’t felt his uncomfortable in his body in a long time. Not since he was young, growing into this body, with long limbs and muscles that he didn’t want because they attracted too much attention. He feels all that and more as she repeats sternly, “Smile. Don’t cry.”

He can’t tell the difference. For so long, the emotions he would let others see weren’t the ones he was feeling. Now he is actually happy, happier than he imagined and his face doesn’t know how to show that. He starts to stand dismissing the needs for a picture, before she drags him back to the bench, “If you’re embarrassed I’ll do it with you.” Her smiling face is mirrored in the phone and he feels the restrain falling again, their heads tilt in, matching authentic smiles on their faces.

“Make that your background.” She demands and he snatches his phone before she can do just that, he doesn’t know if he has enough control to see that picture everyday without asking her to run away with him for good.

She giggles and walks ahead of him, looking over her shoulder and he is blown by her beauty. Even in her most comfortable clothes, she stands out. Despite her small stature, she seems to take up all the space in any room she’s in. He can barely take his eyes off her.

“What are you looking at?”

He doesn’t trust himself to answer that.

“Are you still hungry?”

Despite his refusal, they end up at guesthouse. Her eyes had been wild as she drove the car toward the edge of a cliff, this was the second time she had threatened him with a imminent death. He wonders what it says about him that his only response is a chuckle and head nod. Who is really the crazy one here?

Stay the night with me or die here! Those were his only two options.

She was so impulsive when she felt wronged. But. He had asked her to run away with him, he had started all this and he didn’t want to stop it just yet. So he had called Sang-Tae and told him he would see him in the morning and to call him if he needed anything.

Now, he sat drinking the juice provided by the keeper. It was delicious, he felt his cheeks heating up and vaguely wondered why that was happening? Mun-Yeong was on her third cup and swaying onto his shoulder. Her hair had slipped from the neat ponytail and brushed him every time she leaned ever too close. Each inhale came with the scent of her hair, a faintly floral scent filled his lungs.

“Your hair smells nice.” He mused aloud, turning his head and placing his nose directly above her fragrant head.

She moved closer and looped her arms through his, leaning closer and he watched as her face gradually moved closer, and closer, dangerously close to his face, so close that they were sharing a breath and he knew that he should move back but he felt frozen in place. Just like when he fell into the frozen river and she saved him.

He watched her enticing lips with wavering eyes, stuck between watching her lips and watching her eyes, they were both singing the same siren’s song, as she finally reached her destination and-

Booped their noses together in a perfect Eskimo kiss.

“Your face is so red.” She teased bringing a hand up to palm his lust-stained cheeks and he fell off the table in his haste to escape her spell.

Her giggles filled the the air as he sat flushed on the ground.

He was drunk and he had no idea how. Was the juice the keeper gave them more than just juice? He glanced over at Mun-Yeong to see how it had affected her, if at all. Her face was flushed as well and she laying flat on her back, soft eyes looking at the ceiling.

“Let’s have fun.” She suddenly said rolling to him and clinging to his arm even as he pushed her away, not sure if being drunk together was a good idea. When he found himself looking at her moving lips and not hearing anything she was saying, he knew it was a terrible idea. Had he hit his head? Why did he keep making these decisions?

“- do you want to play?” She finished her question looking up at him from under her lashes, beckoning him to answer affirmatively. He almost did, without asking her what she had asked. He stopped himself knowing how dangerous the game they were playing was, his defenses were compromised by his current situation and she looked even bolder now, not needing any more courage- liquid or otherwise. Grabbing onto logic, he asked her to repeat her question.

“Let’s play truth or dare?”

“Why would you want to play that?” He was suspicious. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what kind of dares she would could come up with. He had to say no to stop them from crossing a line that they couldn’t come back from.

She sat silently, letting go of his arm and wrapping her arms around herself and seeming to war with herself, a plethora of emotions swimming in those dark haunting eyes. She got up and suddenly started to leave their room, he instinctively reached out to catch her arm, stopping her.

“Let go of me.”

“No, answer my question.”

He could see her feathers ruffling and she looked at him with passive eyes, before she quietly answered, “I have never had anyone to play with it before.”

Her arm dropped out of his grasp and his eyes widen at her confession and a wave of sadness and anger washed over him, thinking of a young Mun-Yeong with no one to play with. Not one friend. He was eternally grateful for Jae-Su and he couldn't imagine his life without his one friend. How lonely it must have been to be feared all the time, to watch others build bonds and never have that for yourself.

Okay. I will do it with you.

Her word from earlier whisper in his head and he pushed his own fear aside and did something just for her.

“Okay, let’s play.”

He instantly regrets it when he sees the salacious smile that spreads on her lips. He swallows nervously.

“I dare you to-” She begins and he cuts her off, “You’re supposed to ask me truth or dare.” She looks at him with disdain, “No I don’t care about truths, let’s just do dares.” He rolls his eyes, knowing she probably figured out that he would simply pick truth every round.

“No we have to do it right, since it’s your first time doing it.” He doesn’t know that those words take life in her head until she gives up way too easily and with an scarily innocent smile, she asks “Truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

“Have you ever slept with a woman?”

Red blazes across his already drunk-stained cheeks and he looks away from her imploring eyes. The last time she asked him that he drenched a table and now he thinks he might pass out. He hopes he hits his head and puts himself out of his misery if he does.

“If you don’t want to answer my question, then you can do a dare.” She smiles mischievously knowing she has corned him into a tight spot.

He almost ends the game right then and there, why does she always trample on his comfort level like this? it’s not that he doesn’t have desires, god does he have them. He wants so much. All the time. But he can’t have anything, everything fades and they have to keep moving like the wind.

Tentative steps on a shaky bridge. Deadly tight grip on the railing. Her triumph at the end of it all.

With his last bit of bravery he opens his mouth and it takes a few tries to get the words out. His lips open and close mimicking that of a fish, before he finally shoves the word out through clenched teeth, “No.”

Her responding smile is obscene, “I want it.” and he blinks in confusion before he follows the line of her eyes, squarely centered on his crotch. He backs up until his body meets the wall, bringing his legs up and wrapping his arms around them.

“You look like a school girl protecting her chastity.” She laughs and crawls over to meet him, pressing his legs open, and he bolts to the other side of the room. She smirks and licks her lips, looking every much like the predator he knows she is. Before she can seductively crawl to meet him again, he screams out “Stop! It’s my turn.” And she pauses mid crawl, eyes and hair wild, looking like a wildcat that has spotted its next meal and he briefly thinks she brought the Serengeti to him.

She sits back in a huff. A beautiful flush across her face. He has no truth or dare in mind, her question and behavior after had thrown him off again.

“Truth or dare?”

No hesitation, “Dare.”

Of course. She’s fearless where it counts. She looks at him with curious eyes, fingers tapping impatiently.

“I dare you to......not touch me all night.”

“What?” If looks could kill, he would be six feet under. Maybe deeper. Despite them running away, he can’t have too. How will be go back after today if he becomes too greedy?

“Does it go both ways? You can’t touch me and I can’t touch you?” She looks....calculating but he nods in agreement. He has no plans to touch her tonight. He is too weak already.

She smiles. Then stands up and walks out the door. Slamming it behind her, He jumps at the sound. He watches her leave and disappointment is thick on his tongue, he knows she’s upset. He doesn’t know how to give them both what they want and he feels like a failure. How can he touch her and stop himself from falling even deeper and wanting more?

It doesn’t seem possible and his heart breaks a little.

The sound of the door sliding open once more drags him back from his melancholy and he lifts his eyes up from the floor to see Mun-Yeong.

A soaking wet Mun-Yeong.

Dripping on the floor, her shirt is plastered to her lithe body, sticking to all the contours of her body. When his eyes shirt lower, her pants are missing. Her shirt stops mid-thigh, showing off an excess of her smooth skin. Droplets from her hair fall onto the ground, one drop makes a journey down her cheek, past her neck and disappearing into her shirt.

“Ko Mun-Yeong!” He exclaims willing his body to turn around and stop looking at her drenched body. But his eyes flint all over, from her wet- puffy lips to her naked toes, stopping on her chest and he sees twins peaks peeking through the shirt and that makes him turn away finally. He feels all the blood in his body rush southward.

“You said I couldn’t touch you all night. I needed to cool off, I’m horny. ” She responds and he can hear the shrug and challenge in her voice and he croaks out, “Okay I think that’s enough of this game.”

Once again, she gives in easily. Not protesting at all. And he turns around, intending to dive under his blankets and pull them up to his face and hide from her tempting body. Instead she causes him to freeze again. She is unbuttoning her wet shirt and the room is dark but he can see enough, too much and he lunges at her to stop those nimble fingers.

She tsks at him looking at him like a disapproving parent, “You aren’t allowed to touch me all night Gang-Tae. Remember it was your dare.”

Fucking hell. His fingers stop inches from her.

She opens another button and he spins around once more. “Mun-Yeong please stop. The game is over.” He pleads.

“Oh. Does that mean I can touch you again?” She counters. He can’t agree with that, she is undressing behind him if he allows her to touch him, it will be bad.

She takes his silence as answer and her wet shirt lands on his shoulder. He jumps before throwing the shirt to side. He is buzzing when her bra lands next to it and then her panties. What if he gets a nosebleed and just chokes in his own blood? ARRGGGGGGHHHHH. He screams like the creature that interrupted them internally, wishing the damn thing would show up and kick him to death. Put him out of his misery.

“Mun-Yeong please put your clothes back on.” He is not ashamed to say he begs her, if he could he would get down on his knees too.

On his knees within her milky thighs, her hand on his head, patting and prodding as she guided him to her-

“I am comfortable naked I told you earlier.” She calmly responds before he hears movement and then the rustling of her sheets, does this mean she’s finally going to bed?

He spares a small peek and catches a glimpse of her nude body before she slides under the sheets and his arousal hits him like a freight train. Beautiful.

When he finally turns around, he sees what the movement was. She has moved their bedding closer together, impossibly close now.

He can’t do this. Can’t be this near her naked body. Only a sheet separates them.

He moves to leave the room and she stands with it and her sheets start to fall, he snatches them with superhuman speed wrapping them firmly around her warm body, pulling her flushed against his overexcited body.

“You broke the rules.” He feels her start to reach for him and he swaddles her tighter, yanking their bodies to the floor and pinning her down. She lets out a puff of air and in a surprise move, goes for his lips and he turns his face in time that she lands on his cheek.

“Please. Please. Just go to sleep.”

He stares her down, pulling the sheets around her tighter still and hating that he can fee her warmth even through them. There is only a sheet separating them.

“Just go to sleep. Please” She stops squirming in his hold, finally. “Okay I will go to sleep. But I know you want this as badly as I do.” She proves her point by grinding up into his erection, and he jolts away, the pleasure too immense for his depraved body.

He huddles, willing it to go away, please, please, please.

He doesn’t know how much times goes by, before he can feel his excitement alleviate. Years of ignoring them as made him a pro at suppressing his desire.

When he turns Mun-Yeong is fast asleep, sheet low on her body but covering everything thankfully. He takes his time to look at her, peaceful in her sleep. Someone who didn’t know her might even say she looked..innocent. But all her shenanigans tonight prove otherwise. She is a demon, sent here to make him sin.

He sits up and looks down at her. So brave and bold. He’s glad to escape her all-seeing eyes, too perceptive for her own good. She is right, he wants her. More than he has wanted anything. Surely, he can’t have her though, right?

But, he’s so happy with her. She makes him so happy, even when she’s threatening to drive them off a cliff or using her body as a weapon of mass seduction. He likes her. And he tried everything not to. Why couldn’t she just give up like everyone else did?

I have so much fun with her.

He thinks before he finally snuggles down, into a fitful sleeps. His eyes on Mun-Yeong and Mun-Yeong alone.

Her smile when he hands her the flowers makes everything he has faced in life worth it. All worth it to have this moment with her.

Holding her in the rain, tentative fingers drawing her close.

Her fingers clutching to him as she cursed and thrashed away from him.

Cupping her cheek and feeling the anger evaporate and worry take its place.

Her feet trampling on the flowers he picked for her, all those years ago.

Running to her.

He leans forward, knowing now he has no control.

She appeared when he needed her. Isn’t that fate?

Their lips meet, warm press of skin against skin. Almost innocent in nature, he needs to work up to more.

“That was sweet.” She sounds genuine and she caresses his cheek before curling her hands around his neck and dragging him closer, he releases a puff of air but doesn’t resist.

“Next time, I pick where we go and I’ll kiss you. I have a lot to teach you.”

He’s ready to learn.

#it's okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #it's okay to not be okay fanfiction #ko mun yeong #moon gang tae #kdrama #fix it #the real episode 9 #the director sent me the real script

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yodawgiherd · 4 years ago

Text

You Were Never Truly Gone ch.8

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Soooo, you guys saw the leaks? Bruh.....

This was it, her triumph, everything Kiyomi was hoping for. The pair was together in front of the altar, flanked on both sides by the mass of Faceless guard, each member hidden behind the traditional mask. Standing in the first row Kiyomi admired how gorgeous Mikasa looked in her white wedding dress, head covered by a hood. The Shogun was right there with her, dressed in black as a counterpoint to his bride, the smile on his face genuine and Kiyomi felt a pang of pride in her chest.

See? I told you that she’s beautiful.

Everything falling into place, as she listened to the Shogun recite his wedding vows, Kiyomi’s mind was already plotting on what to do next. She was the hero now, the one who brought them the new symbol, and she had to make sure that the other nobles remembered that, first she would….

The man was finished, and now it was Mikasa’s turn to speak. The priest looked at her expectantly, nudging her to begin her vows but the girl didn’t say a word. Instead, her gaze scanned the crowd until she found Kiyomi’s, forcing their eyes to clash. Confused, Kiyomi mouthed for her to go on with the wedding. But to her horror, the Ackerman girl didn’t comply.

An exceptionally cruel smile parted the blood-red lips.

And then the Shogun was stumbling back, a dagger thrust in his chest. One of the Faceless moved drawing his blade, and before anyone could do anything he rammed it into the groom’s back.

Chaos ensued.

Screams from everywhere, sounds of running as people panicked while Kiyomi stood where she was, staring at the scene. The treacherous guard pulled down his mask, revealing that shitty beard and green eyes that Kiyomi despised. Eren Yeager, the bastard, reached out and took Mikasa’s hand, pulling her into an embrace. All around them, the rest of the Faceless guard followed his lead, drawing their swords and hacking into the gathered nobles, blood splattering all over the temple’s walls.

Kiyomi couldn’t move. She stood and stared as the two kissed in front of the altar, the place where she was supposed to have her greatest victory. Instead of that, she was looking at the greatest loss as people around her kept dying, cut down by the Shogun’s guard. To make everything worse the ground itself shook, and faint stomps could be heard.

Separating from Mikasa’s lips, Eren looked her straight in the eye, his triumphal grin disgusting to look at.

“You know how I told you that I can’t restart the rumbling?”

Cracks ran all over the roof, and his next words confirmed Kiyomi’s greatest fear.

“I lied.”

A colossal titan’s foot came through the ceiling, and Kiyomi didn’t even get the chance to scream before she was crushed to a pulp.

Waking up with a gasp Kiyomi clutched at her chest, staring wide-eyed over the darkened room. Cabin, it was the cabin, she was still at the ship. A dream, nightmare, nothing else. Breathing deep to dispel the terror, she squeezed her eyes shut while massaging her temples.

It would seem that Eren’s sudden re-appearance did a number on her mental state, and Kiyomi couldn’t even say that she was surprised by that. He was nothing short of a monster, and she was right to hate him, right to despise that man from the bottom of her heart.

No, pull yourself together.

It doesn’t matter that he’s back, the plan is still going, Mikasa agreed to it. There will be no assassination and titan army, that was in the past and wouldn’t happen again. The horrors of the past were nothing but a memory, a terrible one but gone forever. Calming herself with measured breathing, Kiyomi laid back on the bed, looking at the moonlight dancing on the cabin’s ceiling.

It will be fine. Everything will be fine. Just a few more days…

The week-long voyage was supposed to be a beautiful dream. Kiyomi imagined it sometimes, how it would feel when she is carrying the fabled Mikasa Ackerman back towards Hizuru, saving her nation and the world in a single stroke. It was the moment of her greatest triumph, years of plotting and sacrifice finally bearing that sweet, sweet fruit. She wanted to spend the time wisely, get to know the Ackerman girl – the future wife of the leader – better, maybe plant some seeds into her that she could collect on later. Yes, it should have been great, a dream come true.

It was a purgatory instead.

Any time Kiyomi saw Eren she couldn’t help but feel the anger in her rising. He wasn’t even doing anything, just talking to the sailors and soldiers, joking with them even, the bastard truly had no brakes. They all liked him, she heard, Aaron was a popular guy and it made her teeth grit. Nobody knew that they were laughing around with a monster, a man that started an apocalypse.

No, to them this was just Aaron, a friend of the Ackerman girl.

It was even worse to find the two lovebirds together. Kiyomi was never big on romance, always putting career in front of her personal needs, and it didn’t feel good being slapped in the face with it. It was everything, all the little gestures – watching them eat together, passing by as they strolled along the ship corridors hand-in-hand, catching them stargazing while they laid on the roof. She had no issues with Mikasa having fun, laughing, giggling, and being in love, she hated that Eren got to experience it too. It wasn’t fair, not to the millions that he trampled.

Her mood got even worse when she saw them kissing, hidden in corners of the ship, once in a cargo hold too, it made Kiyomi miserable. Didn’t help that after three night of relatively peaceful sleep, bar the nightmare, she was once again awoken by: “Ah, Ah Eren, right there! Don’t stop!”.

That night she didn’t lay in bed and waited for it to end. Fed up with the two, Kiyomi left her cabin and leaned on the railing outside, popping a cigarette between her lips. Smoking in silence she stared over the waves, contemplating her situation.

Hizuru was getting closer and closer. In just about two to three days they would arrive, and she would present Mikasa to the people as their new symbol. Her marriage to the Shogun would be quite an event requiring a lot of planning and plotting on Kiyomi’s part – there were nobles to talk to, bribe, charm and threaten. After the Rumbling Hizuru more or less fell apart, shattered into pieces as many small-time barons took advantage of the chaos. She was serious about needing Mikasa, because through her – and the child of course – they would gain a unifying symbol.

Kiyomi sighed, tapping the ash into the ocean.

So much work, and so far from over. Picking the correct baron and convincing him to have his son marry this imported girl was difficult. He didn’t know Mikasa, and even with Kiyomi’s assurance that she is a beautiful and very dignified young woman it wasn’t easy. She managed, in the end, but now she had to think about what will happen once the future Shogun finds out about Eren. Or Aaron, doesn’t matter.

Mikasa was from the ideal “princess” – she was no delicate flower to be protected and that required a strong man in her life. She wasn’t a shy virgin with a blush on her rosy cheeks that could be presented to her future husband on a silver platter. None of that.

If Kiyomi would describe Mikasa with one word it would be powerful – both physically and mentally she was admirably strong. Quiet but not to be underestimated, not easy to manipulate either as Kiyomi found out recently. She played on the old woman’s desperation perfectly, forcing her to accept terms that would normally be impossible. Her having a lover was scandalous on its own, but that the person was no one else but the genocidal maniac everyone believed to be dead, now that was the cherry on top.

Bah.

Nothing to do about that now. Kiyomi was played for a fool but that would end soon – Hizuru was her stomping ground, the Ackerman girl knew no one there and would be dependent on her. Maybe the marriage would be rocky but as long as it produced an heir then everyone could walk away happy. And if the sounds that woke her said anything, it was that Mikasa could do that activity necessary for having children very well.

“Sulking on your own?”

The voice. The voice she hated with her entire being. Gritting her teeth around the cigarette butt, Kiyomi turned to see Eren coming to join her at the railing. Everything about him pissed her off. The way his hair was messy, tousled by someone’s fingers. The dark bruises that bloomed all over his neck. The scratches she could see, disappearing beneath his shirt. The half-cocky grin he wore, knowing very well why she can’t sleep.

“Felt like having a smoke.”, she growled, letting the irritation show in her voice, “Want one?”

Maybe getting him to smoke would kill Eren sooner. To her dismay he shook his head, declining the generous offer. Eyes traveling towards the Ackerman’s door, Kiyomi saw that it remained closed, Mikasa not coming out to join them.

“Where’s your “friend”, Yeager?”

“Sleeping. Exhausted, for some reason.”

Sure, some reason.

“And you came out here why?”

“Needed a breath of fresh air. She is very… intense.”

Kiyomi’s lips curved into a frown.

“You are just rubbing it in at this point.”

He shrugged.

“You wanted to know.”

Letting the breath out of her lungs create a large puff of smoke, Kiyomi turned back towards the ocean and continued staring into the distance. Maybe ignoring him will make Eren go back. An assumption which proved to be wrong, as he spoke to her soon after.

“You never asked how I came back.”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”, more ash fell into the rolling waves, “Nothing but trouble for me.”

“That’s fair. I would say that I’m sorry for causing it to you, but… I’m not.”, she could hear the bliss in his voice, “Being alive is amazing.”

At least he wasn’t lying to her, Kiyomi could appreciate honesty.

“Figured as much.”

Eren’s resurrection didn’t interest Kiyomi in the slightest. She couldn’t care less how he managed to cheat death for the last time, it didn’t mean anything. The practical woman that she was, Kiyomi was only interested in how it impacted her own planning.

To be frank, it threw a giant wrench into it.

Yet there was something else she would like to ask, and there would probably not be a better time in the foreseeable future.

“Tell me, how can you be so calm when you know what Mikasa will do once we get to Hizuru?”

“What do you mean?”

“She is going to marry another man, have a child with him. That doesn’t bother you?”

“That’s the terms of the deal Mikasa made with you. This is her show now, I’m just tagging along on the ride.”

“Ha, that doesn’t sound like the Eren Yeager I know.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”, one of his eyebrows lifted, “My previous mindset got me killed, you can’t blame me for trying something new.”

“Still, going from full active to full passive is…”, she studied his face for a second, “Strange.”

“Maybe, but I need to stay hidden and Hizuru gives me that. A sanctuary.”

“Indeed, as much as it pains me, I have promised that to lady Mikasa.”

“You hate me, and you have every reason to.”, Eren’s voice remained passive as he spoke, not rising to answer Kiyomi’s obvious verbal attacks, “I’m not going to apologize for what I’ve done and I can’t take it back either.”

“Good, because your apology would mean nothing to me.”

This time he finally reacted, a chuckle leaving his mouth.

“I do wonder if we will ever get along.”

Kiyomi’s scowl was the only answer required.

“Don’t count on it.”

“As you say…”, pushing himself away from the railings, Eren did that half-mocking bow again, “Good night, lady Azumabito.”

When the door of Mikasa’s cabin closed behind him, Kiyomi threw the cigarette into the ocean, angrily staring after it. Damn him, damn him to hell.

The morning of their arrival’s day found Kiyomi lecturing Mikasa in her cabin, giving her a few last-minute tips. The girl was looking great, happy and elated even, making the old woman forget all about the pesky Yeager.

“We will be arriving in the port and from there we will have a parade through the city.”, Kiyomi began her instructions, “You requested it and I made sure that the public will be there to see you. May I ask why you wanted one in the first place?”

“I want to give the people something to look forward to, I feel like they deserve as much, especially after I made them wait this long.”

Thinking about the working class already – Mikasa had some good instincts in her.

“Very good. The parade will take you to the palace, where I will show you to your chambers and give you a chance to freshen up. Come evening, the ruling council will gather and we will meet them to discuss the wedding preparations. Also, you will meet your husband there. Sounds good?”

The Ackerman girl nodded, taking it all in.

“I believe that you will take good care of me. Of us.”

Of course, couldn’t forget that parasite. And the goat. Then again, Kiyomi had nothing against the goat, it was a rather well-behaved animal. Eren on the other hand….

“I’ll have “Aaron” put on a uniform and march with the soldiers. I doubt that anyone will notice him, and not like people will be looking at them – all eyes will be on you, lady Mikasa.”

“As long as we can reunite in the castle, I like your plan.”, a firm nod, very military-like, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

They could hear the shouting of the crowd from afar, the water carrying the sound rather efficiently. Standing on the deck, Mikasa looked at the fast-approaching shore, seeing the masses that gathered there in her honor, stomach doing little flips.

“Hey.”, a hand closed around her fingers, “Relax, we will be okay.”

Eren was right there next to her, dressed in a Hizurian uniform, offering a smile in these trying times. She managed to mirror his smirk, despite the twisting of her guts.

“I know. We are together, so there is nothing that I can’t handle.”

The ship’s horn indicated that the shore was even closer now, and Eren left with a last fleeting kiss. Kiyomi took his place almost immediately, ready to accompany her on this perilous journey. As Mikasa studied the port, she noticed that it was very modern, even more than she thought it would be.

“The buildings,”, she said out loud, “look very recent. Did Hizuru rebuild the port?”

“We had to, this area was completely devastated during the rumbling.”

“Oh…”

“Most of the damage had been fixed, but there are still areas which are nothing but trampled ground.”, Kiyomi’s face was sour, “We don’t have the manpower to fix it completely, and lack of proper leadership does not help.”

“That’s why I’m here, no?”

That brought a smile to Kiyomi’s face.

“Yes indeed.”

With a last booming horn sound, the ship backed into the harbor and the gangplank was lowered. The soldiers fanned out first, Eren among them, joining the forces that were already hard at work, keeping the shouting crowd away. Horses were brought when Mikasa and Kiyomi touched the ground, but that was not all. A small group pushed its way towards the two of them, moving to the left and right in a protective formation. They were wearing masks, hiding their identity, but from the lack of alarm on Kiyomi’s part, Mikasa figured that they weren’t here to hurt them.

“Who are they?”, she whispered to the older woman.

“Oh, I should have told you. These are the Faceless.”, Kiyomi quickly supplied, “Personal guard of the Shogun and his family, elite soldiers that will die for you in a blink of an eye.”

“Do they ever take these masks off?”

“Only if it is requested by their charge, otherwise it is a great dishonor. Why?”

“Just curious…”

So a personal guard that was supposed to stay with her all the time and never take off a mask covering their face? Hmmm…

Mounting up in a swift and practiced movement, Mikasa waited until Kiyomi also managed to scramble up on her horse.

“You know, we could have used cars.”, she said, watching the older woman struggle.

“We could, but horses are more regal and also it reminds the people of where you came from.”

“I thought that my origin is a thing to be forgotten.”

“Not at all! Your past is what made you who you are, and it reminds us of the strength you possess. Managing to survive such a nightmare you were thrust into takes incredible skill and dedication.”

Unsure on how to reply to such praise, Mikasa directed her eyes towards the crowd instead. There were so many people here, cheering for her, and it made her heart race. Finally, Kiyomi managed to seat herself properly, clicking her tongue at the mount before addressing Mikasa.

“Shall we?”

The parade through the city was quite an experience. Mikasa had never waved so much in her life before, but here she was, doing her best to appear both dignified and cheerful as she returned the endless love of the people. It reminded her of the times when she and Eren watched Survey Corps return from their expeditions beyond the walls, albeit grander in scale.

The ruckus subsided when they left the port city behind, moving through the countryside towards the capital. There were next to no forests left, trampled beneath the titan’s feet, but the meadows and rice fields stretched to the left and right of the road, restored in the years following the rumbling. High and up, they rode for a few hours before the other city rose in front of them.

The capital was situated high, mostly in the mountains, and because of that a large part had escaped the destruction, Kiyomi said. There were people waiting for her, cheering as their group rode past, and Mikasa was once again forced to smile and wave like an idiot. Eren, hiding between the soldiers, had a time of his life watching her.

The palace was also much greater than anything that Mikasa saw in her life. It was more like a whole city, hidden behind additional walls, towering over the rest of the land. Untouched by the rumbling, it remained as grandiose as before, taking her breath away.

“I take it that you like your new house?”, Kiyomi purred from the right, “A step up from a cabin in the mountains, is it not?”

Mikasa wasn’t sure that she could agree with that statement but forced herself to nod either way.

Still in a bit of a haze from this all, Mikasa was led to luxurious chambers that felt out of this world, with Kiyomi saying that all this is hers now. It was crazy, considering that the most she ever owned was a tiny cabin. And the old woman was all smiles and nods until those dreaded words left Mikasa’s lips.

“Where’s Eren?”

“I… I’ll send for him.”

Both to give them a little privacy and because being in Yeager’s presence annoyed her, Kiyomi left soon after, saying that she will be back to escort Mikasa to the meeting with the ruling council. Finally reunited with her lover, the pair shared a hug before she pulled back.

“How’s Yams?”, she asked, curious about their animal companion.

“See?”, he grinned, “I told you that you’d miss him.”

Mikasa playfully slapped Eren’s chest.

“Answer the question.”

“In the royal stables, loving it so far.”, he looked around, “Same as you it seems, this is quite the place.”

“Mhmm, not the same without you though.”

“I doubt that I can stay in your chambers without people gossiping.”

“That depends…”, she took a hold of Eren’s chin, making him look at her.

“Have you ever considered joining a royal guard?”

It was almost evening when Kiyomi came back, knocking before opening the door, flanked by two Faceless, to the Ackerman’s chambers. Mikasa was sitting at the table when Kiyomi came in, Eren was staring out of the window, and neither paid too much attention until she cleared her throat.

“We should get going to the meeting, lady Mikasa.”

“In a minute. First, we need to talk.”

A small crease formed between the old woman’s eyebrows.

“What about?”, she asked cautiously.

“I think that it would be better if you sit.”

“I think that I can decide that for myself.”

Coming closer, she leaned on the table. Eren also changed his position, standing behind Mikasa and putting his arms on her shoulders in some sort of protective gesture. Kiyomi didn’t like this – the closeness of the two, the air of mystery suddenly shrouding Mikasa’s words.

She didn’t like it one bit.

“If you have something to say,”, she forced her voice to remain level, “then speak.”

Exchanging a quick look with Eren, Mikasa put her hand over his before meeting Kiyomi’s gaze. And then she dropped a bomb that shook her to the core.

“The thing is, I do not plan to marry the Shogun.”

Her eyes, her grey eyes were burning into Kiyomi, and she felt her knees go weak. Her butt met the chair as she folded, doing so at the same time as Mikasa’s next words finding their way into her ears.

“I never did.”

#eremika #fanfic #snk #aot

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hatsukeii · 5 years ago

Note

hello! could you possibly do a scenario where tsukki has a secret passion for dancing, n one of his favs genres to listen to is like 80's music ?? i prefer it to be like raining n dark, just you two. i want tsukki n the girl to be like rly good friends, but tuskki lowkey likes her jus a bit n the girl is like totes in love with him, but they dont rly know about each other, until they like kiss after the songs stops. wkhsjdbf idk if this is too much but i love your writing sm!! thank you. 🥺❤

Okay that’s super cute so don’t worry lool

80s and indie music are SUPERIOR NO ONE TELL ME OTHERWISE.

I was looking through my playlist bc I have 80s songs but then I realised IT’S ALL ROCK LMFAO SO I HAD TO STEAL SONGS FROM MY FRIENDS JAHAHAH

Like I can’t make them dance to ACDC or like Guns n’ Roses wtf are they gonna do air guitars?

But then I realised I literally have a song called we can get together sooo👀👀👀👀

And I genuinely love it so much SOOOO👀👀

Earphones// Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Word count: 2000+

Warnings: None lol I’m not even gonna warn for swearing anymore if it’s just swearing then none

Summary: You randomly discover Tsukishima’s knack for dancing.

You always saw him as a calm, or sly person. He was witty, mean, sarcastic, an asshole in every way possible. He was that one person that would call everyone out for looking stupid while dancing at a party, or the one that would remind couples on Valentine's day that it was to celebrate the death of a tortured and beheaded saint. He was pretty much the most no-bullshit person you’ve ever met. It was as if he simply didn’t understand the meaning of enjoyment, and thrived to seek out every opportunity to ruin it for others as well. He rarely went to social events, never showed up at parties, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile genuinely. Ever.

Yet tonight, you witnessed something you never thought would happen.

You see, every night, you would take a good old stroll around your neighbourhood. Tonight was no different, except it was pouring, the constant pitter patter of your umbrella clouding out any other sound that was coherent. Sometimes you might run into street vendors, other times you would get a bowl of ramen to fulfil your midnight hunger.

Walking along the street to your favourite convenience store, instead of an eerily empty park, what you saw was Tsukishima Kei, the one person you were somehow close to, sitting in a park, with no headphones on. What a shocker.

Ever since you gave him those iconic white headphones, he has never gone anywhere without them. It was as if those headphones were a staple of your friendship, or more so, how much he meant to you. Just saying, those things were expensive. Like eighteen thousand yen expensive. You knew how much Tsukishima enjoyed listening to music, especially whilst doing work. You saved up for months, just to scrape together enough money to get him a brand new pair of headphones to replace his broken ones that only worked in one ear and had shitty quality. You would never admit it, but something in your heart clenched at the sight of the absence of those headphones you spent so much on. Many might have thought you were just sensitive, but they didn’t understand. In fact, no one would understand how insanely in love you were with him.

“Hey, beanstalk.”

The blond looked up from his phone, his legs crossed on the bench.

“Well, would you look who’s here. It’s the infamous shorty.”

You approached his hunched-over figure, taking a seat next to him on the bench. “So, why are you here? It’s pretty late already.” Shoving your earphones into your ear, you hastily scrolled through your playlist, trying to hold off the urge to ask where his headphones were. “Lost my umbrella while going home from practise, it’s raining cats and dogs, I’m not looking to get soaked while going home, so I’m waiting for the rain to stop. Thank God I brought an extra sweater, my uniform is all wet and gross.” Chuckling, you punched him playfully, muttering a quick “Idiot,” before picking a song. You were very low-key about your feelings towards him. God knows how he would react if you ever told him. He would probably ignore you for the rest of your high school lives. Even worse, he might make fun of you for being childish and emotional. Just the thought of it sent shivers up your spine and a dark feeling towards your chest. Shaking your head, you tried your best to drown yourself in the terrifyingly loud music that was blasting through your earphones. From next to you, Tsukishima could hear every single note that was playing from the internal speakers. He scooted closer to you, much to your embarrassment. You grabbed your phone, pretending to scroll through it when in reality, you were just trying to hide the burning blush that was now painted on your cheeks. He paid attention to every little sound that came out of those tiny little earbuds, as if trying to figure out what song you were listening to was a fun game. Noticing the sudden absence of music in your left ear, you heard a tiny, almost breathy chuckle, followed by a pull on the earphone jack. “Pulp, hm? Nice taste you got there.” your eyes widened in surprise, mouth curling up into a wide smile. “Ahhh, never thought the great Tsukishima Kei would know them.” The blond smirked, shoving the rubber tip into his ear. “What do you mean? I have a playlist dedicated to this kind of stuff. 80s music will forever be superior.” You rolled your eyes, not falling for his shit. “Nonono, no way. Hand it over, I need to see for myself. I’m convinced you’re listening to raptor mating calls on a daily basis.” The blond shrugged, dropping his phone onto your lap. “See for yourself.” Opening up his Spotify, you were bombarded with a huge selection of his playlists. “Right there shorty, that’s the one you’re looking for?” Pointing his nimble finger at a specific one that was labeled “Old Stuff,” you scrolled through every single song, not believing what you’re seeing. “Holy shit, and I thought you would be into indie or EDM or something like that. This is some new information that I have to process.” Snatching his phone back, he wiped the screen with his sweater, turning it off. “That’s enough snooping for today. Come back at snooping hours again.”

It was at that moment, did the song decide to change.

“Yeah, no. We’re skipping this shit.” You acted sad, fake pouting and huffing out. “But Tsukishima! All Star is God’s work, you can’t just skip it! Here, I’ll sing it for you!” The blond tried to look at you in disgust, but the smile he was holding back was clear as day, biting his lip as he tried not to laugh at your silly antics. “Oh God (Y/N) please no-”

Too late.

“SomeBODY ONCE TOLD ME THE WORRRLD WAS GONNA ROLL ME, I AIN’T THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE SHEDDDD.”

“Absolutely not.” Laughing softly, Tsukishima managed to heave out.

Grabbing your phone and shoving it in front of your face, he unlocked it with ease, navigating his way through the five pages of otome games to find your Spotify. “Jesus Christ, never knew you were this desperate for a man.” The tips of his ears were red, one thought circling his mind.

If she really wanted a boyfriend, would she pick him?

Grabbing his arm, you begged for him to let you continue jamming to All Star. You were shaking him, trying to grab your phone, but nothing worked. “Nooo! Kei! Nooooo lemme listen to the Shrek sex anthem!”

“No.”

Scrolling through your usual playlist, his eyes landed on one particular song. “Hm? What’s this? You listen to Icehouse? Nice taste you got there.” Your grip on his arm loosened up as you looked up at him in shock. “You know them too! Yes! They’re very much adequate.” You stared in awe as the blond smiled from ear to ear, picking a song much to your dismay. “Yesss I love this song with my whole heart. My dinosaurs make way for this.” Hearing the similar synth, you instantly knew what he had picked. “Seriously? You like this song? It’s like cheesy as shit! This is so out of character for you oh my God Kei.” Tsukishima rolled his eyes, completely done with you. “It’s a good song, don’t come at me. Plus, if you think it’s so cheesy, then just delete it.” You frowned. You liked that it was cheesy. You always imagined someone singing it to you, most of the time this imaginary person being Tsukishima. “I like this song too, it’s fine.” The two of you sat in comfortable silence, your earphone jack being the only thing connecting you guys. The park felt weird. You felt weird. This whole situation was weirdly unreal. It was as if the two of you were stuck in a parallel universe, where you and Tsukishima were the only people that existed in that timeline. The silence was thick in the starry night sky, the streetlamps occasionally flickering as the song continued to play. Humming along to the addicting tune, you don’t even realise your body that’s starting to rock, arms swaying from side to side to the rhythm of the chorus.

“We can get together,“

“Get up.”

A hand comes into your sight, willing for you to take it as you feel another tug on your earphones.

“What?”

“You wanna dance, don’t you?”

Never in a million years, would the thought of Tsukishima being able to dance even cross your mind.

“What? It’s raining, I thought you said you didn’t wanna get soaked-”

“Just take my hand and dance with me.”

Hesitating a bit as you looked up at the blond, you raised a brow, grinning playfully as you let your hand fall into his, pulling yourself up and letting him take your other hand. You felt the cold droplets of water fall onto your skin and rolling off, the fabric of your shirt going damp.

“Just take one step forward,” he instructed, motioning for you to follow along with his dance moves. “Then take another step backwards. Everything else will come into place soon enough.” Lacing your fingers with his, the two of you danced in perfect sync, having the time of your lives. “I am learning so, so much about you right now and I’m all for it. Why’d you never tell me you could dance?” Tsukishima’s cheeks went a light pink, looking away bashfully. “It’s embarrassing.” Chuckling, you twirled yourself around, pulling on his arm as you forced his attention back onto you. “It’s not. I think it’s super cool. Do this with a girl and they’ll be head over heels for you in no time.” You mentally facepalmed yourself for saying that. His blush went from a light pink, to a dark red in no time, saturating his cheeks like paint. “Let’s test that theory out.” Mumbling to himself, he continued to guide you, twirling you around and hoisting you up at times.

“Baby we can get together, we can get together.”

The two of you were just jamming along now, not caring about your wet hair and soaked clothes. Tsukishima’s hair was now a damp mess, sticking to his forehead as he whipped his head from side to side, laughing as water droplets flew off his blond strands. Your hair was no better than his, (H/C) strands reflecting the light from the streetlamps as they hit your face with every sway of your head. The earphones were falling off at this point, but it didn’t matter. The two of you already memorised the entire song beforehand. All you wanted was to enjoy the short moment. Grabbing his wet hand again, you randomly started jumping to the beat, letting the blond follow along.

“Later sometime, you can buckle my shoes, you can pick up my sticks, why don't you open that door.”

You gasped in surprise as you felt a large hand spin you around one last time, before dipping you dangerously close to the floor, rainwater rolling off your face. The song came to an end with its final guitar chord, the reverb still ringing in the background. “So, what’d you think?” Tsukishima leaned down, his face dangerously close to yours. Feeling a Cheshire grin form on your face as your tried to raise your head up, you gave his nose a boop with your own, before falling back onto his hand. “That was amazing.” Giving you a cheeky grin, you could feel his breath on your face as he sighed contentedly. His breath smelled like mints, you couldn’t help but wonder how lips would taste too. “You good now, or do you wanna go home? I think the rain just stopped.

Still in that intimate position, you decided to finally ask him.

“Where are the headphones?”

“I didn’t want to get them wet, they’re too important to me. They’re in my bag.”

And that’s when your body decided to act on its own.

Your mind couldn’t even register what you were doing as you pressed a long, soft kiss on Tsukishima’s lips, feeling the heat radiating off of him.

“Now I’m good. Wanna go home?”

“Did you just-”

“Yes.”

Pushing you back up to a comfortable position, he stared at you for another ten seconds, face burning crimson as his mouth opened and shut repeatedly, trying to process what you just did. Finally snapping out of his thoughts, he awkwardly leaned towards you, before pulling himself back. After doing that a few times over, you were properly confused. Grabbing your shoulders, he pressed a firm kiss to your forehead, before grabbing his bag from the bench he was sitting on, pulling his headphones out and hanging them on his neck, handing you the earphones.

“Wanna do this again tomorrow shorty?”

“11pm sharp, don’t be late, and I expect another kiss.”

“Whatever you say cutie.”

Tags:

@tiger1719 @burnt-tomato @thirstyvolleyballhoe @agentvicinity @izzyphantomgamer @sunshines-and-tatertots @sakusasgarbage @trashcanweeb @kaylacinderella @talks-a-lot-of-stuff @random-fandomlover @bokutokoutarou @for-ests @mariechan123 @justachillgirl @ewfilthymundane @just-another-bored-writer @inlwlevi @tiredgr3mlin @itmekisuu

I’m gonna check over the tags again tmr so feel free to dm or comment if I missed you or if you wanna be in the taglist

Eyyyy this isn’t that great but I hope you like it and feel free to give me feedback both good and bad lol love you guys I’m going to sleep now baiiii

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu tsukishima #hq #hq x reader #hq headcanons #hq scenario #hq imagine #hq tsukki #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima scenario #icehouse #please read this i crave validation and feedback lmao #love you guys muah

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faylor · 5 years ago

Text

Broken

Characters: Penny Parker, Tony Stark

Relationships: Iron Dad / Spider Daughter

Rating: General

Warnings: Panic Attack, PTSD, Slight Language

Prompts:

“If you don’t want to talk about it, just say so. Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.”

“I’m just tired.”

“You’re not broken.”

There had been an orange sky, dust filling it, darkness surrounding it, then nothing. Penny couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. She didn’t know where she was. Was she... in space? But there weren’t any stars or planets. Just... nothing. Had she died? She didn’t know. But she was scared. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t - wanted to scream for help, but she couldn’t. She was alone in what she couldn’t only describe as nothingness. She was-

“Earth to Penelope,” Tony’s voice sounded from her left.

“Huh?” Penny suddenly jerked her head toward him, her eyes widening as they focused back into reality. “Oh, um, yeah. What, uh... What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you had everything packed for your trip,” He raised a brow. “But apparently the desk was more interesting.”

“Right. Um, yeah, I’ve got everything. I think.” Penny blinked, her eyes turning back down toward her notepad. Tony watched her carefully, eyes narrowing as he noticed her mannerisms.

“You okay, kid? You seem a little out of it,” he suggested.

“Oh, I... I’m just tired.” She shook her head as a huff of breath escaped from her nostrils. She’d hoped it was believable enough. After all, she’d been down in the lab all afternoon, brainstorming new ideas for suit upgrades and testing them out with Tony’s help.

On the other hand, she was almost positive that Tony had noticed her being a bit more... spaced out since after the battle against Thanos. Things had gone back to normal, or as close to normal as they could be. But Penny didn’t feel normal at all. She’d been gone for five years. Five years she’d missed out on her life - on the people in her life.

Not to mention the invasive thoughts that had seemed to plague her mind every day. They were always about the same thing - nothingness. The same nothingness that she’d experienced after she was turned to dust. The same nothingness that she was alone in, and no one was coming to help, no matter how loud she tried to cry for help.

She could barely think straight, let alone try and focus on enjoying a somewhat normal life now that Thanos was gone. They’d won, and everyone she loved was here with her. She was still herself, right? But why did she feel so out of place? So different. Like she wasn’t herself.

“I guess I’m just a little... stressed about... the trip,” she stammered, her shoulders shrugging.

Tony slightly narrowed his eyes as he spoke. “Just yesterday, you couldn’t stop going on about how excited you were for it. You sure you’re okay, kiddo?”

“Everything’s all good, I promise.” The corners of her lips turned slightly upward before she turned her attention back to her notes. “I just need to... finish...” she trailed off. Maybe if she could just get back to focusing on her work, her mind would be distracted just enough... But then flashes of orange danced through her mind again, and it was suddenly becoming uncomfortably warm in the room.

Tony let out a soft sigh, standing from his chair. “Alright, spiderling. I think it’s about time for a snack. We’ve been at this for, what, a few hours now? I could go for a sandwich myse-“

“No, no. I’m good, Mr. Stark. Really,” she replied flatly, not exactly meaning to cut him off as her eyes were pinned to her notebook. Yet she found it almost impossible to focus on the writing within it, because her mind was racing again with images of dust particles filling the air around her - and Tony’s bloodied face staring right at her in nothing short of horror... And now her head was feeling light, and her breathing became unsteady.

“And now you’re refusing food?” His voice was almost teasing. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, okay?” The words came out just a bit harsher than she’d intended, and she forced her eyes shut, shaking her head ever so slightly. “I-I’m sorry... I just... I’m sorry,” she spoke through slightly stifled breaths.

There was a short pause between the two of them before Tony sighed. “Pen... If you don’t want to talk about it, then say so. Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.” His voice was more serious now, but not angry.

She hadn’t meant to snap at him. But her heart was beating way too fast, and it was becoming harder to catch her breath, and she couldn’t think straight- or, rather, she couldn’t stop thinking.

Dropping her pencil rather suddenly, she slowly stood from her chair on slightly shaky legs. In fact, her entire body was shaking now, and she hated it. She hated this. But it wouldn’t stop. The walls had been closing in on her, she was scared, and she needed to get out of there.

“I-I just need to... go to the bathroom,” she managed to voice before her feet began walking her toward the lab’s door.

“Penny?” Tony called as she walked away, his brow furrowed. But she ignored him and kept walking. And walking. Until her legs couldn’t anymore. She was in the corridor leading from the lab when her back fell against the wall, her legs practically buckling under her weight as she slid to the floor.

She lowered her head, burying her face within her hands. Her muscles tensed as she felt a heavy wave of sudden and absolute dread wash over her. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs were on fire. And now she felt like she was drowning as she gasped for air, but only choked sobs came out. Her entire body was anxiously vibrating - and at the same time, she felt completely frozen. Tears were now escaping onto her cheeks and hands, and she felt totally helpless. She was Spider-Girl. She was a superhero. So why did she feel so weak and vulnerable?

“Penny?” Her mentor had appeared in the hallway, standing mere feet from her. His voice was now brimming with concern, and his expression had changed to match. He took a small step toward her. “Talk to me, kid. What’s going on?”

She couldn’t even think about trying to answer him. Not when she felt like she was dying. Was she dying? No... no, she couldn’t be. She’d already died once, and it was nothing like this. This was worse.

He moved closer to her, crouching down right beside her as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Penny, you’ve gotta talk to me. Are you hurt?” But the only reply he got from her was in the form of more sobs and exasperated breaths.

His gaze suddenly turned toward the ceiling. “Friday, what’ve you got?”

“I’m not detecting any injuries, but she does have an elevated heart rate and she’s hyperventilating.” There was a short pause from the AI. “I believe she’s experiencing a panic attack, boss.”

Tony felt his heart drop at the words. He’d known how this felt all too well, and now Penny - his kid - was going through this.

“Oh, Pen...” He couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going on in her head after what she’d been through. He positioned himself so that he was sitting beside her, gently wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

“I’ve got you, honey. You’re alright.” His tone was softer now as he slowly rubbed her arm. “Just breathe... I’ve got you.”

The two of them had sat like that for what seemed like forever, but Tony didn’t care. He’d sit there with her for as long as it took to get her out of that horrible place of mind.

Before too long, Penny’s breathing had finally started to even out, and her sobs had all but stopped. Her head was still spinning though as it remained buried within her hands. The first move she made was to wipe ferociously at her eyes as they rapidly blinked away any remaining tears.

“I- I’m sorry, Mr. Stark...” She spoke with a shaky voice that sounded tired and faltering. “I didn’t mean to-“

Her voice caught in the back of her throat as a gentle hand placed itself atop her head.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Pen.” Tony assured, stroking her hair.

“I shouldn’t have let it get to me... I’m sorry...” She finally raised her head up to look at him, eyes bright red and still welled with tears.

“Don’t apologize, honey.” He paused. “You wanna talk about it? You don’t have to, but sometimes it can help.”

“I- I don’t know...” And she really didn’t. Would he even understand? Would he get it? And even if he did, how would he even be able to help? Unless he had some kind of memory altering device that could wipe clean those images from her brain. That would be wonderful.

She hated so much that she’d let those damn thoughts get to her that badly. She’d been able to suppress them well enough for the past few weeks, but it’s like they just kept getting worse and worse. And now they’d brought her to her knees, taken the breath right out of her, pounded her head to a pulp. She was Spider-Girl. She’d been beaten and bruised thousands of times before, but somehow this was a million times as bad as the worst fight she’d ever taken part in.

“It’s... probably nothing,” she dismissed, sniffling again. “Just got freaked out.”

“A panic attack isn’t nothing, Penny. But it is something I can help you with.”

A... panic attack? Right, that’s what Friday had said. But Penny had never had a panic attack before. Not after the ferry. Not after the Vulture dropped a building on her. Not even after Ben. So why now? Was she... broken? Is that what being brought back to life after you’ve died does? Break you? No, no. She wasn’t broken. She had to be fine. She had to tell herself she was fine.

She hadn’t even realized that a dazed expression had been on her face as she mindlessly stared at the wall across from her.

“Penny?” Tony’s voice finally registered in her ears and broke her from the focus she had on those thoughts. How long had he been talking? “Penny? Are you with me, kiddo?”

“Am I broken?” The question slipped past her lips before she could even think about what she was saying. But the thought was swirling around her head now, taunting her.

Tony blinked, a look of almost disbelief forming across his face. “What- Of course you’re not broken, honey.”

“Why is this happening?” Her voice was barely above a whisper now. “I can’t get it out of my head...”

“Pen, you... You’ve been through a lot. More than anyone your age- hell, anyone at all should ever have to. And that’s not fair.” He sighed, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “But if I know you, you’re stronger than all of it. And I’d like to think I know you pretty damn well.”

“It doesn’t really feel that way,” she responded, followed by a small huff of breath. “It feels like I’m just so... lost. So... not me. It’s like I can’t control my thoughts and everything just spins and I feel like I’m drowning and being crushed and... breaking.”

“I don’t want you to ever think you’re broken because of what’s going on inside your head, okay?”

Penny leaned her head back into the wall she was sitting against, a shaky sigh escaping from her. “Do you remember when we were in space?”

Tony’s brows furrowed at the question. “Yeah, honey, I do. Is that what...” His voice trailed off, unsure if he should even finish the question.

“Yeah,” Penny stated plainly. “When I... died. Everything was dark and I was all alone and no one was coming to help me.” The words ran together as she rushed through them. “I can’t get it out of my head and it’s like I’m dying over and over again.”

“Penny,” Tony started. “Look at me.” And she did, her eyes reluctantly wet again. “You’re not alone. Never will be. You’ve got so many people that’ll be here for you no matter what. And of course that includes me, kiddo.”

That got a small smile out of Penny, her eyes glancing down at her hands for a moment. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“You’re gonna get through this, okay?” He gave her a soft but encouraging smile. “I promise.”

“Okay,” she all but whispered as a tear dared to fall down her cheek. Tony reached over to wipe it away as he spoke again.

“Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you, too, Mr. Stark.”

Thanks for reading!

#prompts #prompt challenge #penny parker #female peter parker #tony stark #iron dad #irondad fic #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #mcu #faylor writes

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songfell-ut · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 5 already, huh

In which I personally feel sorry for Sans only a little bit, guess when

Oh, and @lostmypotatoes? My brother actually doesn’t have The Virus, which makes me feel even worse for randomly shouting at you about it just because I happened to have our conversation open when I saw the text from my mom. Sorry again! Official chaptery link found here.

Sans had gotten used to waking up in a luxurious, his-sized bed, and after a full week with the High Priestess, he felt he could handle being stuck in the humans' castle for twenty-three more days; it was amazing to sleep so soundly, and he could think of about a million worse fates than spending his waking hours with Frisk. What he could not handle was having a really wonderful dream like that, only to wake up wifeless, childless, and absolutely certain he'd remain that way for the rest of his unnatural life.

He tried not to blame Frisk for it, he really did, but as he emerged from his room, she was sitting at the worktable in her robe with another goddamn proposal in hand, as if to taunt him. "Good...morning," she said. "Are you all right?"

"F'fn m'rg," he muttered.

"I see. I didn't sleep well, either." When he didn't respond, the priestess shrugged and went back to her letter.

The boss monster sat down at the worktable and selected a book at random, trying to shake off the feeling of his dream-wife messing with his face. Less than five minutes later, someone knocked at the door; Sans started to sweep books and mixing tools aside to make room for breakfast, but Frisk shook her head as she got up. "It's Sunday, and I have matins in less than an hour. We won't get fed till afterwards. One minute, please!"

She was about halfway across the room when Sans sat bolt upright: the bar across the doors was lifting itself, and the double doors swung open from the outside. "Good morning," said a soft, scratchy voice.

"Er...good morning, Dr. Serif," Frisk said as the man walked in. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you." Though the worktable had several chairs pushed beneath it at widely spaced intervals, the doctor sat down next to Sans, ignoring the skeleton's glare and addressing Frisk: "When I informed His Majesty that I would be coming here this morning, he asked me to tell you that he and the Prince will be attending matins. I've brought several men to escort you to the chapel as soon as you're ready."

The High Priestess blinked, and said, "I see." She picked up her veil and headdress from the edge of the worktable. "Please excuse me, then."

Sans waited for her to disappear into her dressing room before he rounded on the royal sorcerer, resisting the urge to grab him by the neck. "What the hell are you doin' here, ya creepy bastard? You steal my magic 'n make Frisk use it, ya come here without askin' and open doors all by yerself—and how come we need a bunch of extra guys to go t'church all of a sudden?"

"She needs them because you will be staying here," said Dr. Serif, unperturbed. "We have several things to discuss, many of which do not directly concern Her Eminence and needn't come to her attention. She already has enough responsibilities for three women."

Sans couldn't argue with that, but he could and did tell the guy, "Hell with you. I'm not interested in anythin' ya have to say."

The doctor shrugged. "Very well. I will only ask you to listen to one word." He reached into his robe and retrieved the end of a very long, thin golden chain hanging from his neck, twisted the chain once around his finger, and pulled—

His face blurred and his hand melted, the flesh sliding off like warm wax. Beneath his pale human features was a long, bone-white, masklike face with black slashes above and beneath his hollow eyes, lipless mouth curving into a grin. His now-bony hand rose in greeting, chain twined around his phalange, its end dangling through the hole in his palm. "Boo," whispered the skeleton.

The door to Frisk's dressing room cracked open. "Shall I wait for you two, Dr. Serif?" she called. "Or will you keep Sans here and deprive him of another hour in church?"

The doctor dropped the chain and was human again. "Indeed, my lady," he said. "I am sorry to disappoint our visitor, and those who will come to see him for themselves, but I understand that monsters employ methods of collecting magical energy that would benefit us greatly. I wish to hear it from the horse's mouth."

"That's probably for the best. He's told me the basics, but I'm not an expert in metallurgy or alchemy, so I'm afraid most of it is over my head." Frisk closed the door behind her, settling her veil in place. "If nothing else, Sans can have a break from me. I think we've been getting along fairly well, but he's probably tired of being lectured." She paused by the edge of the worktable, where Sans was frozen in place. "Well, Sans? Shall I get out of your hair now?"

He was still reeling from what he'd seen, and only vaguely aware that he had to say something leaving-related. "Yeah, bye," he muttered.

He didn't see her start, or how her head ducked as she turned and left. The moment the doors closed, the royal sorcerer removed the chain from around his neck, setting it on the table and scowling at Sans like a disappointed teacher. "You realize you've hurt her feelings very much?" The slashes above and below his right and left sockets creased in disapproval. "No. You don't, do you."

"Well, you're hurting my fuckin' brain, ya—ow!"

Something had immediately smacked Sans in the back of the skull. He whipped around to see a disembodied hand hovering in the air, wagging a skeletal finger in disapproval before it vanished. "I will not tolerate rudeness," the doctor said severely. "Is that clear, young skeleton?"

The boss monster felt as if someone had pulled the floor out from beneath him. "Yeah, I guess so. That's about the only thing I do get right now."

"Understandable. I will begin by asking this, Sans: do you recognize me?"

That was a good question. The longer Sans looked at him, the less certain he was. "You...honestly, it feels like I used ta have nightmares with you in 'em, but I've had so many others since then that ya can't keep up. Competition's pretty stiff in here." He tapped his skull.

The doctor chuckled. "I see. Does the name 'W. D. Gaster' sound familiar?"

Sans flinched, and he didn't know why. He just knew that he wanted to open his head up and scrub the insides till the name was gone. "Not...really," he managed. "'Zat you?"

"More or less." Gaster half turned in his chair and snapped his fingers. Two more hands appeared at the windows, unlatching them and pushing them open to let the chill morning air stream in. "This is an informal meeting, principally to get acquainted again. We can start with this." He picked up the golden chain and held it out for Sans' inspection. "To the best of my knowledge – and I pride myself on thoroughness – there are no similar devices in use by any other monster in this kingdom. You should not be surprised in this fashion again."

"I sure fu—flippin' hope not," Sans remarked. "Whaddya mean, 'get acquainted again'?"

"Ah, you caught that. Well done." Gaster's mouth curved again. "We've met before, but you were so young that I'm not surprised you don't remember. The next question: would you like to have a device of your own, and the ability to appear human?"

Sans prided himself on not being dumb, but this was way too much, too fast. Gaster must have seen it in his expression, because he raised his palmless hands in a conciliatory gesture. "My apologies. I have been looking forward to this meeting for a long, long time, and I may be overly enthusiastic. I'll ask an easier question—did you kill the man found in the gardens yesterday?"

The boss monster put a hand to his skull, as if he could manually collect his thoughts. "The guy jumped. Didn't the King tell ya?"

"His Majesty told me what he was told, yes. Did Her Eminence see the assassin jump rather than give himself up, or did you throw him out the window after you squeezed him eighty-percent to death?" Gaster raised a finger as Sans started to protest. "Don't waste my time or yours, boy. The gentleman may have landed in an unhealthy fashion, but that does not explain the uniformly horizontal bruising across his front and back, or how he struck face-first and still managed to crack most of his thoracic vertebrae. His injuries were consistent with a very large hand doing a very large amount of damage before his fall."

Sans wasn't sorry, and he saw no reason to either lie or volunteer more information. He stared at Gaster, daring him to say anything more, and the royal sorcerer shook his head. "No, I will not judge you for taking drastic measures to save the High Priestess. The man was carrying three large knives and two empty sheaths, which suggests he was very serious in his purpose. Nor do I intend to trouble His Majesty or Frisk with this information, unless perhaps I find out that you crushed the man to pulp right in front of her."

"Hell, no, I didn't," Sans snapped. "Ya think I wanted her ta feel any more messed up than she already was? I didn't even let the f—the guy scream on the way down. She didn't hear anything, an' she didn't see anythin' after I got him outta the room." He drummed his fingertips on his femur. "And don't use her name. 's weird."

Gaster's brow twitched. "That answers that. Thank you."

The boss monster felt like something had gone over his head, and he was about to demand more information when Gaster raised his finger again. "One moment. Do you hear that?"

Very faint choir music was coming through the open windows. "Yeah, I know," Sans said impatiently. "When they get sick of talkin', they do that instead. It all sucks."

"Not necessarily," murmured the doctor. "This particular hymn includes a solo, and with the King in attendance, they'll use their best performer. Listen."

Sans didn't get it till the hymn faded to almost nothing and it seemed as if the song was over. He was thinking of his next question when a single voice rose through the stillness and his head turned of its own volition. His feet made him get up and cram one shoulder out the window to follow the sound, heedless of the floor creaking underfoot.

Sure enough, it was a lone woman singing. The words were indistinct, but the sound sent prickles running over his skull and down his spine; her high notes were perfect, and while he could barely hear the lower tones, they were somehow even better. When the last note died away, he wanted to jump out and yell for whoever it was to keep going.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Gaster was leaning on the other window, arms folded on the sill, head propped up on a spare hand. "I've missed hearing her in the mornings."

Sans hurriedly scratched the corners of his sockets, which somehow felt itchy. "Yeah, I guess s'not bad for a human," he said, trying to sound careless, though he couldn't help adding, "Kinda wasted in a church."

The doctor chuckled again, stepping away from the windowsill. "An increasingly common opinion, as you are doubtless aware by now."

Before Sans could ask what the hell that meant, Gaster glanced meaningfully at the boss monster's face and hand. Sans followed his gaze and saw why: his phalanges were stained bright red. "Wha..." Had he hurt himself? Sans grabbed the corner of his sleeve and swiped at his eyes, pulling it away to reveal more streaks of red. "What the crap is this?"

Gaster was very quiet. Then he reached into his robe and produced a folded white square. "Here," he said. Sans looked at it blankly. "It's a handkerchief, my boy," the doctor explained. "For drying tears."

The walk back to her rooms after the service was more irritating than usual. Frisk was thirsty, her calf was beginning to cramp from walking at the four guards' pace, and there was no one to talk to—just like old times, she thought with a twinge of dismay. She was reconsidering the merits of Sans' magic when they reached the double doors and she could all but run inside.

"Greetings, my lady," said Dr. Serif, raising his head from a series of drawings scattered across the worktable. There were tiny words and numbers scribbled all over, and even at a glance, the notations were beyond her. "If you'll allow us a moment, we'll clear the table. Breakfast should be here any moment."

"Thank you," she said. "I'll be out as soon as I extricate myself." Dr. Serif gave his odd half-smile, while Sans didn't so much as look up.

Well, at least changing into a looser dress made her feel better, as did kicking off her slippers and enjoying the strange walking-in-pits feeling of removing heeled shoes. Technically, she knew she should keep her veil on, but the prospect made her want to eat the damn thing. It wasn't as if the royal sorcerer was going to tell on her, and she almost never wore it around Sans anymore—not that he cared either way.

...Good Lord. When was the last time she'd felt this crabby? He must be rubbing off on me, she thought wryly.

Dr. Serif had poured a tall glass of water for her. Frisk came out, seized it from his hand, and drank the whole thing at once, setting it down with a bang and a sigh. "Thank you very much, Doctor."

"I had a suspicion you wouldn't be allowed time to care for yourself after the service," he remarked. Sans was still looking at a sheet of paper, at least until the doctor plucked it out of his hand and set it on a stack of notes. "I hear something in the hall. Sans?"

The skeleton grumbled, but got up to open the doors as Frisk sat by the doctor. "It looks as though you've made some progress. In your opinion, are these ideas practiceable?"

"I believe so, yes," he replied. "Based on what Sans has told me, we could possibly convert some of our existing infrastructure for this purpose. We will need more detailed specifications, but I thank you for allowing me to borrow Sans and attain a starting point."

"And thank you for giving him a break," she said, drawing on all of her training to keep from sounding petulant.

It must not have worked, because the doctor sighed. "That was a very natural misunderstanding on your part, my lady. He and I had words while you were getting dressed, and it distracted him. I doubt that he genuinely wanted you gone. In fact, he's been checking the clock every ten minutes since you left."

Frisk felt herself flushing. "I didn't—"

"Watch out," said Sans, and as they sat back, the dishes flew off the trolley in a burst of red magic, settling neatly onto the table. "There. What's this about me 'n the clock?"

"Nothing whatsoever," the doctor said genially. "Her Eminence is back, by the way."

Sans glowered at him, and glanced at Frisk for the first time since she'd come in. "Yep. You can go now, Doc." He made a shooing gesture, then came back to the table, pulled over a random dish, and began shoveling the food in.

Dr. Serif looked ready to hit the skeleton upside the head. "You were marvelous, as always, Your Eminence," he said loudly. "It's been a long time since you performed at matins, hasn't it?"

Frisk paused mid-stab, rearranging her tomato slices into an angrier pattern. "You can hear the chapel from all the way up here?" Stab. "Would you like something to eat, Doctor?"

"Nothing for me, thank you. On a clear day with little wind, yes, the sound carries quite far."

The priestess couldn't help grimacing. "That's good to know." She got up for another drink. "I had to chat with His Majesty and Gaius for almost twenty minutes after the service. My throat is killing me," she said over her shoulder.

When Frisk turned around, Dr. Serif was not looking at her, but at Sans, who had slowly raised his head. "Hold on a sec," the skeleton said. He shifted to face her. "That was you?"

His obvious disbelief made her want to dunk her head in the water pitcher, and perhaps also throw it at him. "I...yes? It was my turn to take that solo," she said to her plate, and crammed a wad of egg into her mouth.

"Your turn, indeed." Dr. Serif raised his eyebrows at Sans. "Her Eminence is aggressively modest about her vocal talent. You won't hear her again until the Feast of All Souls in three days, and she will do her best to get out of it."

Frisk swallowed, coughed, and said sharply, "Doctor, please." What was he doing?

"Forgive me, my lady." He rested his head on his hand, dark eyes studying her. "Speaking of All Souls Day, I've discussed the matter with Sans in his capacity as your personal guard, but I also wanted to give you a direct word of caution. We may need to employ unorthodox methods to ensure your safety, as you will have an unavoidably public role in the ceremony. Will you agree to comply with whatever measures we may deem necessary?"

That sounded ominous, but Frisk had already been trying not to think of the upcoming holy day, or the dead assassin, or how the prospect of being murdered was no longer an abstract concept. "I'll leave it to you and Sans, Doctor. Thank you for your concern."

"Of course, Your Eminence. Now, with your permission, I'd like to briefly review what you've taught Sans thus far. St. Brigid's is unparalleled in its instructional quality, so I have no doubt as to your knowledge or capability. However—"

Sans banged his empty plate onto a tray, startling them both. "Thanks, Doc. Go away."

"Sans!" the priestess snapped. "What's gotten into you? Do I have to send you to your room?"

Dr. Serif raised his hands good-naturedly and got to his feet. "All right, you can have her to yourself again. But I would like to consult with both of you at least once every day. May I come here in the morning, or is the afternoon more convenient?"

"Either is fine now that I'm excused from most of the services," Frisk answered. She pinned Sans with a glare. "Do you have a preference?"

The skeleton grumble-shrugged. "Splendid," said Dr. Serif. "I will see you tomorrow morning after breakfast, then." He bowed slightly. "My lady."

Frisk rose to walk him out of the room and into the hall. To her surprise, Dr. Serif gestured for the guard to move away, and when the man was out of earshot, the royal sorcerer lowered his voice. "Forgive my asking, but when you spoke with the King, what did he say about Sans?"

The priestess crossed her arms at the waist, and uncrossed them. "He asked how Sans was behaving towards me. I told him I'm not in any danger, but I don't know if he believes it."

To her shock, the doctor laughed. "That was not what he meant, Your Eminence," he said. "I fully agree that Sans bears you no ill will. However, surely you have noticed that he is...we'll say, potentially unstable? I checked the potions you've recently made, and didn't sense his magic in any of them. Have you allowed him to infuse anything yet?"

At this point, Frisk couldn't even try to keep her emotions off her face. If nothing else, she thought bitterly, it'd save time.

"I see. Those who witnessed your initial encounter with him said you stopped him in his full attack without violence. I hate to put responsibility for his actions on your shoulders," the doctor continued, "but as you know, Sans is much too powerful to be allowed to lose control of himself again. There can be no peace between humans and monsters if your emissary destroys any human life or property while he is here, or if he evens frightens anyone too much."

"No, of course not." Frisk shifted her bare feet on the marble floor. "He's being difficult today, but as I said – or at least, I thought – we've been working together well enough. He's an excellent student, and he has a sense of humor. I'm certainly not afraid of him anymore."

"Hmm." The doctor was plainly skeptical. "You don't feel threatened by having such a large monster in your living space? Does he seem apprehensive about your barriers?"

"As a matter of fact, I trust him enough now to have taken down several of them. When I created one so that we could talk privately with the King, he handled it fairly well."

The doctor's eyes grew very wide. "You kept him inside a barrier, and he tolerated it?"

"I...told him it was all right, and I made a bad pun. It seemed to work."

For some reason, Dr. Serif muttered something curse-like under his breath, then said, "I beg your pardon, my lady, but that is extraordinary, especially considering he's been under your care for only a week. Monsters are absolutely terrified of barriers, no matter their size or strength, and he knows firsthand that he cannot break yours. Whatever you are doing to foster trust between you, by all means, continue to do so." He turned as if to go, and paused. "One more thing, Your Eminence. Has he told you how he became a boss monster? There should be none but their King and Queen."

Frisk shook her head. "I tried to ask about it, and he got upset."

"Indeed. Thank you very much for your time. I will see you tomorrow." He strode off down the hall, allowing the guard to return to his post.

Any hope of Sans behaving better with the doctor gone was dashed the moment she came back in. "How come ya don't like singin'?" The skeleton sounded almost accusing. "If I could do that, I'd never shut up."

"That's none of your business." The priestess busied herself collecting dirty dishes and loading them up.

Another cloud of red lifted the trays out of her hands and dumped them back on the trolley with an unholy clatter. The doors opened, the trolley rolled itself out to the hall, and the doors creaked shut. "There, all done. So does it take a lotta magic or somethin'? I noticed ya don't make as much noise around here now that there's not as many barriers ta keep up."

Noise? "Drop it, Sans. I'm not going to ask you again," she warned, coming to sit across from him.

Pause. Frisk could actually see him think about it and then decide to keep right on going. "I didn't think you were the shy type. Yer willin' t'stand up in front of a zillion people and tell 'em not to be scared of the big bad skeleton, you got me right where ya want me, and ya talk to th' most important guys in the kingdom like it's nothin', so how're—"

That did it. She was so furious that she had to fight the urge to throw a barrier in his face. Instead, she inhaled, stuck her thumb and forefinger in her mouth, and gave an ear-splitting whistle.

And that was how Frisk learned an interesting fact about skeletons: they didn't have ears, but when faced with a completely unexpected and shrill sound – not just being shouted at – they still instinctively tried to cover the sides of their head, and at least one of them also yelled, "What the fuckin' crap was that for?!"

"First, watch your language, and second, it was for being a giant hypocrite! I haven't made you tell me how you're a boss monster, and when I want you to stop asking me a personal question, I expect the same courtesy!"

"Are you seriously comparin' my life bein' ruined with yer stupid 'Wahh, I'm a perfect fairy-tale princess, don't listen to me'?"

"This is not a contest! I know what I've experienced and how I feel about it, and it has nothing to do with you!" She slammed her palms on the table, standing up so that she didn't have to keep craning her neck to look at him. "We may be familiar with one another by now, but that does not give you the right to say whatever you want to me! Do you understand?"

Sans was still rubbing his skull. "Not like it matters," he muttered. "Yer the boss, right?"

"Oh, please! Haven't you ever had a friend before, Sans? A real one? Have you ever learned to treat someone with basic respect?"

"Not a damn human!" The skeleton also sprang to his feet, towering over her with eyes aflame. "Excuse me if I hurt your widdle feewings askin' a stupid-ass question!"

"You hurt my feelings because you showed me that you don't care about them! Don't you dare blame this on my being human, Sans! You're wrong, and you damn well know it!"

He snarled, lowering his head until his jagged teeth and the blinding orange-red of his eyes were less than a foot from hers. The effect was terrifying, but Frisk was too angry to remember the doctor's warning about letting the boss monster lose control; the only thing that mattered was standing her ground. "Don't you give me that look!" He wanted to win by being bigger, did he? Frisk put one foot on her chair, stepped onto the table, and, as Sans blinked in confusion, reached down to jab a finger into his sternum. "What are you going to do? Bully me until I'm as afraid of you as every other human you've met? Think of another plan, because that's not going to work!"

The ferocious light went out like a candle. For just a moment, Sans looked as though a tree had sprouted in front of him full-grown and then fallen on his head. He stepped back, mumbled, "'Kay," and went into the bedroom, shutting the door.

Frisk stood in the middle of the table, her pulse racing, not sure whether to cry or step down and then cry. She swallowed several times, but it didn't help.

Damn him. The bedroom was an upset woman's native habitat, and he had stolen it. There was the couch, but it wasn't the same. Besides, even if she understood on a grown-up level that the assassin was gone, she was still afraid to open the office door without Sans there.

At a loss, Frisk sat on the edge of the table, letting her feet dangle as she surveyed her domain. The room had gotten even messier in the past week. If Sans had the power to put dishes away instantaneously, he'd have enough to put all these books and papers away for her, too. Maybe she could make him organize her proposals while he was at it.

Proposals. For the thousandth time, Frisk wondered if it was time to stop ignoring them and start making a list of men she might actually consider accepting. She hadn't told Sans how few positions in the Church were suitable for her current rank, or that the likeliest ones were all lifetime commitments, a fate more lonely and boring than death. She'd been so scared but so excited to become High Priestess, where she'd do so much good and be known and loved by so many people; no one had reminded her that being up on a pedestal meant being utterly alone, not to mention exposed to anyone below who wanted to push her off.

Maybe that was why she had imagined her resident boss monster being smitten with her, why she'd been so hurt by him trying to escape, and why she felt so awful now. Frisk knew he had no social skills whatsoever, and he'd probably thought he was complimenting her in some backhanded, childish fashion, but leave it to Sans to turn being "perfect" into an insult.

No, the choice between the Church and marriage wasn't much of a choice at all. She was very tired of her pedestal, and she wasn't going to trade it for one so high that she couldn't come down again. If she chose the right husband, she could do as much or more for people in need than she already was, and she wouldn't be doing it alone. Even if she and her future spouse were well-to-do and had busy schedules, she'd have company in the evenings, not to mention nights and mornings in bed, which there was no shame in looking forward to! Then there'd be children, a family of her own...

Frisk sighed, massaging her neck and turning it toward the window, then the door. For the briefest and most frustrated of moments, she contemplated sending the skeleton back to the Underground now, perhaps tomorrow morning. He'd learned enough and given the royal sorcerer enough information; surely she could get rid of him in good conscience, and he wouldn't have the chance to hurt her ag—

The child from her nightmares was sitting inches away from her on the edge of the table. It was smiling, eyes shining red, kitchen knife in hand and all its little teeth bared.

Every hair on Frisk's body stood straight up, and her breath came quick and shallow. She tried to push herself off the table, to yell at it to go away, but her muscles were locked in place. All she could do was watch as the child lifted the knife, pointing it straight at the bedroom door, eyes never leaving hers. The child slowly lowered the knife, turned the blade around in its hands, and held the handle out to her.

Frisk's hand twitched. A tiny part of her knew that if she tried, if she really wanted to, she could move enough to grab the knife. But...why?

Something bubbled up in the back of her mind, whispering that even a boss monster was no match for a determined human. She knew exactly what to do: shuffle into the room with her head down and her hands behind her back, creep in close to tell Sans how sorry she was, and bring him down in one swift crimson slash. It'd be so easy!

The child was still smiling, still holding out the knife. Frisk moved her hand, raising it slowly, and the child's grin somehow widened.

Frisk leaned forward. She reached up, and with every shred of determination she possessed, she turned her hand toward herself, jammed her fingers in her mouth, and whistled as hard as she could. The child only had time for one furious glare before it vanished.

The bedroom door banged open. "What the hell d'ya want now?" demanded the skeleton, stepping into the workroom. "I'm not a damn dog! If ya need something, just...oh, shit—" Sans dropped to one knee next to where she'd crumpled onto the floor, shaking, her hand pressed to her mouth. "Frisk! Hey!" He reached for her shoulder, thought better of it, and looked around, as if for help. "Come on, Frisk! Look, I'm sorry, a'right? I know, I shoulda listened to you! I'll shut up next time ya tell me, I swear! Just knock it off!"

Frisk shook her head, tried to speak, and couldn't suppress a sob. Sans considered her from a couple different angles, said, "Incoming," then carefully scooped her up and walked into the bedroom, setting her down on the edge of the bed and sitting on the floor. "I'm sorry," he said again, wincing as she turned her back to him and curled up with her face buried in the pillow. "'m sorry, okay? You were right. I wasn't thinkin' of how ya felt, just bein' a nosy prick. I really don't want ya to be scared of me. Ya don't hafta tell me anythin' if you don't want, I just..."

Something in his tone made her wipe one eye and raise her head far enough to look at him. He was staring at the bedpost. "'s not an excuse for how I acted, but..." Sans shrugged helplessly. "I really, really wish you liked ta sing."

Silence. Then, to his abject horror, Frisk clutched the pillow and began wailing incoherently into it, sobbing in earnest.

"Aw, fuck! I mean—Frisk—" The skeleton opened his mouth and shut it several times. He stood up, paced out of the room and back again, and sat down as the noise continued. "What'd I do now?!"

No answer. Sans tried to think of something, anything to make her stop. "Uh...can I get ya anything?" he asked lamely.

She quieted long enough to shake her head and kept right on crying. Sans scratched the back of his skull, glancing at the windows – still too small to jump out – and finally, against his better judgment, sat on the edge of the bed. "Hey. Ya know that explosion that killed all those people? Asriel, Chara, a bunch of humans, couple'a monsters?"

That got her attention. Frisk sat up, scrubbing her eyes on her sleeve. "What?" A protracted sniffle. "What about it?"

"That day, me 'n Papyrus came to the gala with Kris, and we were way at the back. For some reason, Kris took off into the crowd, an' I was smaller than Pap, so I went after the little bugger." Sans looked at his massive hand. "Next thing I knew, there was this big damn flash of light and I got knocked down. I don't know what happened after that—it hurt like hell, but I was thinkin' of Pap and wondering where Kris was, and then I woke up in the lab."

Frisk sniffled, but she was listening. Sans clicked his phalanges on the bedpost. "The best explanation Alphys and I came up with was that I was determined ta stay alive, but a monster's body can't handle too much determination. I mean, if we feel a lot of it, we literally melt like butter. Al's not sure if I held together because I absorbed little bits of human SOUL as they died, or if I somehow converted some of the ambient magic, or what. Nothin' really makes sense. It sure didn't happen to anyone else who was there. But me? I was on the way to becomin' my bee-yootiful new self." He gestured grandly, back still to her. "The end."

The priestess scooted closer, pillow tucked under one arm. "You said it ruined your life?"

"Hell yes, it did. I got too big to fit in my own damn house! I have to take a shortcut into the living room because I can't fit through the friggin' door!" Sans kicked at nothing. "The other monsters are scared of me 'cause I keep losin' my temper 'n I look scary as hell, Asgore treats me like I'm tryin' to take Toriel from 'im when all I wanna do is tell jokes with someone...oh, and ya know what?" He shifted around to nearly face her. "Remember what I said about monsters havin' kids with magic, and how it's always a pain in the butt?" She nodded, wiping her eyes again. "Well, lucky me, I'm too strong t'even try it. If I was a lady boss monster, I could handle someone else's magic and make a little Sans, no problem, but no. If I tried givin' anyone enough to get the job done, there's no guarantee I wouldn't overdo it and kill 'er." Shrug. "Boss monsters are supposed t'have kids with each other so they can transfer their life force and age naturally as the kid gets older. I'm just gonna live forever as a damn freak."

"You're not a freak. You're Sans." Frisk gave an unlovely snrk. "Thank you for telling me this, but you know you didn't have to."

"Yeah, I know." The skeleton turned around the rest of the way, crossing his legs on the bed. "I'm not tryin' to trade it for your pers'nal business, either."

She smiled a little, and his SOUL lifted a little higher. "My story's not nearly that interesting. My mother said something very cruel the first time I sang for her as a child, and no matter how many people since then have told me how wonderful I sound, there's no getting rid of that feeling that they're all wrong. That's all."

"Yikes. I wouldn't say it's 'all,' not if you were a kid an' you were trusting your own damn mom to not be an asshole. That crap really hurts. I shouldn'a said it was stupid."

"Agreed, but I accept your apology." Frisk sighed, tucking the pillow under her chin to rest her head on it. "I've been feeling sorry for myself because being High Priestess is so isolating, but at least I can get out of it. Isn't there anything you can do?"

"Nope! I can't get hitched and stop bein' a boss monster. We've tried a bunch of different things, and it's irreversible. We can't exactly replicate the accident to make me a lady friend, either."

"No..." The priestess yawned. "No, I expect not. I'm sorry."

"Not yet fault. Not anyone's, so far as we know."

Frisk curled up on her side with a sigh, facing him this time, cuddling the pillow. "I'm glad we had this talk, but I suppose we should get to work soon."

Sans had never wanted to be a pillow so badly. "Isn't it Sunday? Why not take the day off? I vote for a nap and then a game of chess or something."

"Mm." The priestess frowned at a rip in the silken bedsheet, probably caused from his toe catching it. "You know how to play chess?"

"Nope. You can teach me."

Frisk chuckled. "It's a deal." She couldn't help yawning again. "All right, you win. Escort me to my office, please, and I'll get to work on that nap. It's been about a year since I had one."

The boss monster paused, and said, "I feel bad takin' this thing up when yer crashin' on the couch like a houseguest. You take it. There's a lotta floor space fer me out there."

The priestess looked over the huge expanse of mattress, remembering the child and the knife, wondering when she'd feel safe again. On impulse, she hopped over the foot of the bed, landing in front of a cedar chest under the windows and opening it to rummage through the blankets. "I'm fine," Sans informed her. "It takes bein' out in the snow for a while 'fore I get cold."

"It's not for you," Frisk said cheerfully. "Come with me for a moment."

Bemused, the boss monster followed her to the office and the couch. At her instruction, he held out his arms for her to fill up with cushions. Then it was back to the bedroom, where she made him place the cushions on the side of the bed away from the door, holding them up so she could throw a large quilt over them. "There we are! You, sir, are sleeping on the bed. I am sleeping in a pillow fort. There's no impropriety whatsoever."

Sans had so many objections that they all tried to get out his mouth at once. By the time he could say, "I don' think that'd hold up in court," Frisk had already disappeared into her fort.

The mattress was not only wide, but so plush that he could have jumped on the bed without disturbing her arrangement. The skeleton tapped the light off, then lay down in his usual spot near the middle of the bed. He couldn't stretch his arm on that side now, but otherwise, there was still plenty of room. When she sniffled again – in a residual kind of way – Sans remembered the handkerchief, and wished he hadn't used so much of it. It was her fault, having that kind of voice out of nowhere.

Silence settled over them, but it was a comfortable one. Sans closed his eyes, tried to think of something else to say, and decided not to bother: judging by her breathing, Frisk was already asleep.

#songfell #it was actually a viral pneumonia

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esonetwork · 4 years ago

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No One Wants to Read Your Crappy Book

New Post has been published on https://esonetwork.com/no-one-wants-to-read-your-crappy-book/

No One Wants to Read Your Crappy Book

Hey, M. D. Jackson here. I’ll be back next month with more art related content. This month I’m giving over my post to my good friend Jack Mackenzie. Jack’s an author and he’s going to talk to you about writing.

Hey. Get in. We’re going for a ride.

No, don’t worry. We’re not going far. I’ll have you back before dinner.

So, I hear you’re writing a book? What’s it about? No, wait… don’t tell me… No. Really. Don’t tell me. Don’t care. I got my own books to write.

What I want to do is give you some straight talk about writing a book in this day and age. You’re probably not going to like it but you need to know it.

The first thing that you have to know is that no one wants to read your crappy book.

Mean? You think I’m being mean? I’m trying to help you. Sit back and listen for a minute, will you?

First off, here are the cold hard facts. It’s estimated that fewer than 1000 fiction writers in North America make a living from their writing. And I’m being generous at 1000. I’ve read some estimates that put that number at only 300. That’s out of around 45,000 writers and authors working in the United States alone. That’s .6 percent… not six percent but POINT six percent… less than 1 percent… of all writers.

Ahh, what the heck! I’m feeling generous. If the number actually is 1000 writers making a living at writing, that’s 2%.

Well, Okay, you have a better chance of making a living as a writer than winning the lottery or getting struck by lightning, true, but, those are still some slim odds.

Yes, I know, there was a time when writers who churned out short novels on a regular basis could make a living Not a great living, to be sure, and, yes, they would occasionally have to churn out some cheap porn novels under a pseudonym to make ends meet.

You think I’m joking? Have you ever heard of Loren Beauchamp? She was the author of such sleazy paperbacks as Campus Sex Club, Unwilling Sinner, and Strange Delights. She was also the pseudonym of science fiction author Robert Silverberg. I kid you not! Look it up.

My point is that it has never been easy making a living as a writer. Few authors could do it, even in the so called “Golden Age” of the paperbacks after the death of the pulp magazines. They needed day jobs or, like Mr. Silverberg, they needed to wear a mask and turn to the dark side.

How did this situation come about? Let me digress for a bit.

Back in the 1960’s the typical science fiction novel ran to about 60,000 words. These were slim volumes of about 130 to 150 pages. Mass market paperbacks in the US were sold mostly at grocery stores or neighbourhood pharmacies. They were displayed in wire racks that rotated. That’s where the thinner books were more desirable. The thinner the book, the more you could stack. You used to be able to fit about six paperbacks in a three inch rack.

So what happened? Why did these compact volumes grow to such monstrous size?

There are a few reasons, but chiefly it comes down to inflation. In the 70’s and 80’s the price of just about everything rose. That included paper and printing costs. Publishers found that they needed to increase the prices of their books to compensate.

But according to grocery store logic if you want to charge more for a product then it has to weigh more. You can’t just start using bigger typeface or thicker paper to do that so you start looking for longer novels.

And there was also this massively big book that came out in paperback, a little story about elves and stuff, called The Lord of the Rings. At 473,000 words it was a massive book that had to be broken down into three parts. But, oddly enough, that little book sold an amazing number of copies.

So, given that consumers would buy longer books and pay more for them if they were thicker, well, the writing was on the wall and there was a whole lot of it.

At the same time distribution channels dried up. The wire racks were gone. Publishers were charging more and more for thicker books, but the places that were left to sell these books couldn’t sell massive hardbacks unless they were bestsellers. Those pesky midlist volumes weren’t moving off the shelves fast enough. Stop sending us midlist books, the big bookstores told the publishers. Only send us bestsellers.

What’s that? Oh… you plan to self publish? Ahh, well, that’s different, then.

You see, according to a survey by Guardian in 2015, the average self-published author makes less than $1,000 per year. In fact, a third of them make less than $500 per year. And there’s over a million self published authors with more joining the ranks all the time.

I know, I know, I read those stories all the time too, about how a self published author sold a million copies of his book and got rich. I also see lots of stories on the news about the guys who won big on the lottery, or got struck by lightning. The fact is that most people, the vast majority of the population… don’t.

Think of it like this: You’re at a concert… an open-air, rock festival-type concert… You’re on the ground several meters distant from the stage. The stage is 100 feet high and the approach to it slopes up. 1000 people are standing on the slope. The headliners… say, Stephen King, J. K. Rowling, James Patterson and Neil Gaiman… are 100 feet in the air.

You’re on the flat ground. You’re trying to get closer to the stage. But you just can’t seem to push past all the others surrounding you… and there are a lot! They’re all waving their books in the air. Occasionally some author with a toothy grin and the right connections blows past you. Or one of the concert promoters escorts a cute red-head to the front simply because she’s a cute red-head.

You’ve been on the ground, pounding away at the ground for years on end and these fortunate few keep slipping by you and the grounds just keep getting more and more crowded.

That’s what the publishing industry is today for most authors.

So what does that mean for you and your book? Well, like I said, no one wants to read your crappy book. But… you can change that. Or at least make it more likely that someone will want to read it.

Here’s the thing: don’t focus on the stage 100 feet in the air. Focus on those around you. Be interested in their work. Talk to them. Make friends. Don’t moan and whine that you haven’t sold any of your books. Talk about your books if others are interested. If they’re not (and believe me, most people aren’t) talk about something else. What do you like? Comic books? Movies? Stamp collecting? Cookie recipes. Talk about that. Be genuine. Be present.

Have a website. Have a Twitter feed. Have a Facebook page. Talk about things you are interested in. People will find you. If this seems like a waste of time, just remember that those 1000 writers up there near the stage? They’re doing it too. So is Steve, J.K, James and Neil. They’re always out there, always talking. People like them. They like them and they read their books.

No one cares about your book. But if you are out there online or (post Covid, of course) in person at conventions or other gatherings… heck, even house parties… just be yourself. Be the best version of yourself. Be friendly. Be interested in others. If people like you they might read your book.

Look… maybe your book will resonate with a lot of people. Maybe some weird confluence of events will thrust you into the spotlight. Strange things happen. But you can’t control that. The only thing you can control is yourself. Be yourself. Be the best version of yourself. Don’t brood. Don’t moan. Don’t whine.

That’s all I got for you. I’m sorry it’s not more encouraging, but that’s life, right? And, hey! Look. This is where we started. I told you I’d have you back in time for dinner.

Take care now. Good luck with your book. Honestly. You seem like a nice person. I’m rooting for you.

jackmackenziewriter.wordpress.com

#ESO Network #J.K. Rowling #J.R.R. Tolkein #Jack Mackenzie #Loren Beauchamp #Neil Gaiman #Publishing #Robert Silverberg #Self Publishing #Stephen King #The Lord of the Rings

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scottishoctopus · 5 years ago

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Not So Heartless After All.

Chapter 4: Diana.

~ ~ ~

He didn't make any sound, no movements at all from his frozen body. His tentacled face looked confused with a flash of shock that appeared when she had told him her name. She felt extremely uncomfortable, her bones beginning to shiver once more. She didn't know how long he was silent for, but it definitely seemed like an eternity.

What was he going to say to her? Was he going to laugh and then throw her off of his ship because her name meant what she was? Was he going to say that she probably deserved that name after what had happened earlier?

"Yeh name is Worthless- ah?" He slowly asked after what felt like hours pass. She felt herself flinch slightly when he had spoken. She had been staring at the floor after she revealed her name, waiting for him to laugh darkly at her. But to her confusion, he did not. She nodded slowly, her eyes firmly set on the cold wooden floor, not daring to look up at the cursed captain, afraid to stare into his cold lifeless eyes.

Davy Jones on the other hand, was deeply confused and irritated. Here was a child who feared him greatly, as he already expected, what would you be feeling if you met a man with an octopus as a face? But she was littered with scars on her body, afraid to even make a single movement in fear for an unknown reason. And her name was Worthless? Something was clearly wrong here. What kind of person would name their child that?

"Where are yeh parents?" He growled menacingly at the child, fury was growing deep inside him again. He didn't enjoy being in the company of children, it happened rarely. But that didn't necessarily mean that he hated the young generation, yes they could be mischievous and quite frankly annoying. But they could be sweet, loving at times.

One particular time that he had last talked of the young, was the last time he was with his only love, Calypso. It was the calmest weather as they both sat on the sand, gazing at the blue waves drifting in the sea. She had brought up the subject of children, how nice it would be if they had both had a child together, a proper family.

A sea goddess, a great sailor, and a child of the sea.

Of course, they never did have a child to care and love for, as for after that day, Davy Jones had never seen her again.

Tears had begun to swell in her teal blue eyes once again as she drew shaky breaths in and out. And this reaction immediately told the captain that her parents were most likely gone. Taken down to the depths, their souls forever lost. He instantly felt the need to change the subject, she obviously didn't want to answer that question at the moment, it was not a good time to ask her that.

"How come ya ended up in tha' ocean, far away from any port- ah?"

She sniffed and wiped her eyes and nose, hissing in pain when her hand rubbed against her bruised skin. At this moment, she decided that she would finally look up to the captain, and finally answer one of his questions. Still frightened and fearing that he would harm her, she built up her courage to speak.

"M- my home...it crashed and sank. I- I fell off." She stuttered still, but managed to not break off and start crying again. She still was shivering madly, and her cuts looked extremely sore and most likely had an infection, but she was managing to resist the pain and torment in her skinny body.

"My name is Worthless. T- that is what my uncle calls me." She added, a response to Jones' earlier question. And yet again his fury was rising. What sort of uncle did she have? An uncle who calls his own niece worthless?

"Do ye have another name besides tha'?"

"No," She quickly answered him as she rubbed her left arm noticeably.

"E- ever since my parents died, I have forgotten my, m- my own name. And my...uncle took care of me after that." She closed her eyes in her own embarrassment, wanting to hide her face away from Jones. There was a small pause when she mentioned her other relative.

It was extremely clear that she was very uncomfortable mentioning her uncle, and it was obvious that they both definitely had a difficult relationship. And the uncle most definitely was not the brightest person it seemed. Maybe the uncle was the one that gave her all those noticable scars on her arms and face. The bruises shaped like finger tips on her fragile neck.

Her eyes widened when Jones had moved closer to her, and kneeled down to her level. Now, he was in front of her, far too close for comfort. His eyes were fixed to her own, he seemed to be studying what kind of shape she was in. She feared greatly that he was thinking about putting her to work on his ship, forcing her to work for the rest of her life. But Jones' dark eyes didn't seem like he was thinking about that, instead, they looked soft. Not a single trace of anger on his tentacled face.

And that scared her.

"Is there anywhere Ah could take yerself? Drop yer off at a port- ah?"

His crew would most likely be shocked as to how he was behaving at this minute if they were down here with him. He didn't usually treat anybody like this. But she looked like a corpse, and she certainly hadn't eaten in weeks. And her only family Davy Jones had heard of was her uncle, a person who could possibly be as devilish as himself! And that thought surprised him more than finding a child on a cursed ship! And that Michael child, he seemed to be her only friend, brave enough to come down to the brig without anybody telling him to, just to see her.

"Y- you could take me back to my uncle?"

If it were possible, the air turned colder after she had asked the question. The noise of the ship crashing against waves gradually became quiet. The captain was silent once more as he processed the question in his mind. If he was correct, the uncle was the one to put her in this state and she wanted to go back to him?! Was she insane? Oblivious to the fact that she was being beaten to a pulp?

Or maybe, it was something to do with fear.

"Maybe then. Ah'll think abou' it later." He paused slightly, of course he wouldn't be taking her back to him, he wanted to get the truth from her, why she had all those scars, the bruises. But most importantly, why she had been abused, beaten, to the point where she doesn't remember her own name.

What kind of sick man would do this unimaginable thing to a small child?

"But for now, yeh need a proper name if yeh going teh be staying on me ship."

She looked confused now rather than scared, her left eyebrow lowering but the other stayed up as her eyes gazed into his own eyes.

"B- but I already have a name, sir." She told him with a hint of defence in her Welsh accent, her fear had disappeared slightly. She still was shaking wildly like it was cold weather and she was stood there without any warmth on her body.

"Worthless is not ah name." The cursed captain growled, and yet she wasn't fazed by that at all! One minute she was pretty much terrified and crying her eyes out, and now she did not seemed like she was afraid of him anymore! If anything, she looked a little relieved!

"T- then what is?" She frowned hard as the cursed captain began thinking. And a long time he was! But when he had finally decided on what to call her, a rare small smile danced across his cold lips.

"Diana." He simply managed to answer her.

~ ~ ~

"Scrub harder, boy!"

Michael felt the force of Jimmylegs shouting at him from behind. The bosun had told him to wash the decks, and he couldn't help but chuckle silently in his throat. Washing the decks was pointless, all the decks were too filthy too even clean! And besides, the ship could seemingly go underwater from what he had heard from the crew, so scrubbing the decks was a waste of his time. But he couldn't argue against them, if he did then he would most likely be whipped by Jimmylegs.

That wasn't bothering him as much as what happened earlier, when he was forced to leave the brig when he had went to see his best friend. He had left her in the company of the captain of the Flying Dutchman! Who knows what would be happening now? Jones could be hurting her, or maybe trying to get her to join the crew! Millions of possibilities emerged in his head, and each one was worse than the other!

He couldn't deny it. Michael cared for his friend a lot, and he absolutely despised the way she had been treated by her uncle.

Before him and his friends lives were changed for probably the worst, he had been working on a way for them to escape with their other friend Spencer abroad the Darkened Thorn. When the three would reach Port Royal, they would secretly escape the clutches of captain Daniels, and would live a better life together. But of course, the future hadn't been the bright loving one they all had hoped for.

Instead, Michael was scrubbing the decks of a ship he had only heard in tales that were meant to frighten young children such as himself. And his only friend on this terrifying ship, was stuck in the brig, with the cursed captain every soul who sailed the sea was frightened of, who could be doing anything to her right now!

Fortunately, Michael couldn't think of anything more as he now heard those same ominous footsteps that belonged to the cursed captain echoing across the ship. His brown eyes checked to see if Jimmylegs was nearby, and he was, but he was distracted by a crewmember who was discussing about the girl to him. They were deep in conversation, and Michael knew that this was certainly a chance to see if his best friend was with Jones.

Silently getting up to his feet so that the bosun wouldn't hear that he wasn't doing his duty, Michael quickly followed the sounds of the captain and hid behind a large barrel. He spotted him walking towards his cabin, and his best friend was walking along with him too! She looked scared for sure, but didn't look like she had been hurt in any way, which Michael was certainly pleased to know. But shockingly, she was leaning on the captain, who was moving slowly so she couldn't fall over.

The two eventually stopped in their tracks as the first mate, Maccus had come over to talk. The captain looked annoyed at first but then he began to talk to him, whilst his right tentacled hand was gently holding the girl's shoulder carefully. Maccus nodded slowly and began to walk off. And then Jones and Michael's friend were gone. Both had entered the cabin and Michael had even more questions emerging on his head than earlier.

He had desperately wanted to follow the two into the cabin, but he knew that if Jimmylegs noticed that he was gone, then he would be in deep trouble.

Michael quickly left his position, and as silent as he could as to not alert any other crewmembers that he was sneaking around, he walked back to the bottom deck fast. But unfortunately, he was a little late, as the bosun had finished his conversation and realised that the small brown headed boy wasn't doing his job.

"Where did ye sneak off to?!" Jimmylegs cracked his whip and slapped it against the ground. His eyes were furious as his fingers gripped his weapon powerfully. Michael quickly ran towards him and pretended that he was pulling up his trousers.

"I needed to have a bathroom break, sir."

Jimmylegs didn't looked convinced, eyes full of suspicion, but he growled in response and wrapped up his whip.

"Ye get off easy this time, but next time ye won't be so lucky! Back ta work, worm!" The bosun hissed, watching the small boy quickly get back onto his knees and continuing to scrub the stained deck much to Michael's annoyance.

~ ~ ~

"Come with me- ah."

Diana gulped as Jones left the brig, but held the door for her, but she didn't move or walk after the cursed captain. She remained standing there, still shivering, an untrustworthy stare into Davy Jones' face.

"Ah will not harm yeh." He said calmly, a tone of honesty in his voice as he continued to hold the door back for her. "Now come on before Ah change me mind." He frowned when she still didn't move. But then, she swallowed and sighed. Diana didn't know whether it was a good idea or not but it didn't look like she had a choice here. It looked like he wasn't going to hurt her, and that reminded Diana of Spencer and Michael. And so, with her legs still aching because of days having no rest, she followed the cursed captain out of the brig.

As they both entered the main part of the ship, where almost every crew member was doing their duty, Davy Jones patiently waited for Diana to catch up to him. She was limping, gasps of pain leaving her dry lips as she struggled to walk.

Diana felt like she could collapse at any moment. Her bones in her body felt like fire, and moved stiffly as she walked. Not to mention that her feet was also struggling to keep her limp body up. She gripped parts of the ship steadily so she wouldn't lose her balance and embarrassingly fall on her face in front of the captain. When she had got to Davy Jones, he had stared at her for a second before raising his right arm upwards.

Diana quickly shut her eyes, preparing for the blow to come. But it didn't. Only a soft voice spoke to her.

"Here. Hold onto me- ah."

She opened her eyes and saw that he looked mildly uncomfortable but a shade of sympathy rose onto his face, it didn't look like he was going to hit her after all.

He just wanted to help her?

Diana gulped. She didn't want to trust him but then again, when she had first met Spencer and Michael, she thought they were going to do the same things that her uncle did to her but it turned out she was wrong.

Maybe the captain wasn't going to be the same as her uncle.

Diana approached the captain cautiously, still limping, and now she only realised how small she was compared to Jones when he had allowed her to gently lean on the right side of his body. She had thought that she would of been uncomfortable, the coat he wore looked as ancient and decrepit as the tales that Spencer and Michael had told her during her time abroad the Darkened Thorn. But it was surprisingly soft and a little damp in some parts. He practically smelt of the sea itself!

Diana's eyes widened when his right hand came to rest on the side of her own right arm, holding her gently in place as the two began to walk to where Diana believed was Jones' cabin. His index finger that was an extremely long tentacle, wrapped itself around her arm which seemed to be providing support as now she couldn't worry about walking and then eventually falling over.

The two eventually managed to reach the door of the cabin, but Maccus nearby had slowly approached them. A shade of shock on his face when he had noticed Diana leaning on the cursed captain. He had never seen the captain seem so calm with anybody in a long time, he would of thought the child would be terrified of him as well but she seemed just as calm as Jones did!

"Um, sir?" He hesitated to even ask.

"This is Diana. She'll be stayin' with us fer ah while. Ah will explain later- ah." Jones didn't even looked remotely angry about the girl being on his ship. So obviously he knew what to do with the situation and Maccus could definitely not argue with the captain of the ship. Maccus managed to nod and glanced down at Diana, she gazed up at him with a gulp trailing down her throat.

Only now had he realised that not only was she skinny to the bone, but the injuries as well.

He quickly moved past them and watched as Davy Jones had opened the door and let the small girl enter. The captain nodded at the first mate and then followed after her.

Closing the door.

Diana's eyes shot all around the cabin, at small and large boxes that looked decayed and certainly hadn't been opened for years, at large books that contained words impossible to read because of the water that soaked the pages, at the many candles that were lit and scattered around the deteriorating room, and finally her eyes were fixed to the large ominous pipe organ that sat at the back of the cabin.

The pipe organ had three keyboards, each stacked and curved atop of each other, and each key looked wet with slime, a sickly yellow stained each any every one of them. On top of the keyboards was an angel, fixed as a music stand. In front was a painting of a ship headed towards the sun with yet more angels that were flying towards it.

It was truly a magnificent instrument, and Diana couldn't help but limp towards in and study it. She had never seen a musical instrument before, and despite the slime sticking to her fingers, she gently moved her hand across the keyboard and admired it with a genuine smile on her face. Although, she couldn't help but slowly press one of the keys and a loud burst of music entered through her ears! She leaped back in fright and held her head.

And then she heard a small chuckle come from behind her. Davy Jones was watching her movements, impressed that she liked his pipe organ, but chuckling in his throat that alarmed her. And then a sudden realisation grew in her head.

What was she doing?! She wasn't supposed to be looking at what the captain owned in his cabin! She should of been doing work by now!

"I- I am sorry sir! What would you like me to do?" She quickly replied, her head lowering down as she stepped away from the pipe organ. Beginning to close her eyes so she wouldn't see him yell at her, or raise a fist at her.

She felt him becoming closer to her now, that horrible sound of his right leg hitting the floor with a terrible thud. And she felt him stay still and silent. And that blow still didn't come.

"Yeh eyes should be anywhere but the floor."

A sharp voice rang out from the captain's cold lips and reached her ears. And her eyes began to water once more in fright. Diana slowly lifted her head, eyes connecting back to Jones. He didn't look angry, he looked like he was trying to figure something out.

He was trying to figure out why she had quickly looked to the floor in fright. Obviously he was a frightening image but she became afraid just from him laughing?

Her eyes were swelling up again. She thought he was going to punish her. Just for looking at his musical instrument? And she still thought that he was going to order her to do work!

And it was by then, he decided, that he would definitely not be taking Diana back to her uncle.

"Listen tah me. Ah am not goin' to harm yeh, or order yeh around me ship." He kneeled down in front of her once more and placed that same hand on her shoulder. "Do yeh understand?" He asked, wanting to make sure that she was listening to him.

Diana still looked mildly confused and scared, but she had managed to nod her head slowly. Jones' eyes seemed to calm her now as she sniffed and rubbed her eyes. She definitely looked exhausted as her breathing was slowing down.

"Sit here. Ah will be right back." Davy Jones carefully sat her down on the seat in front of his pipe organ and patted her shoulder gently as he then stood up and left the cabin. He was going to get her a hammock so that she would be able to finally rest and gather her strength.

Unfortunately, the only place to sleep in his cabin was the seat in front of his musical instrument. He removed what he used to sleep in when he had began sleeping on that seat. Every night after he had finished playing the pipe organ, he would sleep on that same seat so he decided to remove whatever he slept on out of his cabin. The cursed captain retrieved the hammock from below deck, attempted to go across deck without any crewmembers asking him multiple questions about Diana which failed, so he was stuck there answering those annoying questions and then he finally made his way back to his cabin.

When he had arrived back, he entered to see that Diana had fell asleep on the seat, her whole body curled up it as she slept soundly. She was out of it. And she definitely deserved the rest. Jones couldn't hide his chuckle and began to set up the hammock nearby his pipe organ. It only took him a couple minutes for him to do that, he did try it first to make sure it was comfortable for her, which it luckily was.

It amused the cursed captain greatly of the things he was doing for the child. He of course would probably not do this at all for anybody, not even his crew members.

Finishing the hammock, he approached Diana slowly, not even the loud sound of his crab leg awoke her. He couldn't even shake her awake!

Much to his annoyance, he carefully used his right arm to lift the sleeping girl into his arms, and placed his large claw underneath her for support. Carrying Diana, he made his way back to the hammock and rested the red headed girl into the resting space. She shifted slightly and got herself comfortable automatically, but then she started shivering once again.

"The things I do for women." Davy Jones thought and also sighed, beginning to take off his long and decrepit coat. He placed the coat onto the child and she immediately covered herself with it, she began to shake less now and her breathing was beginning to calm.

A satisfied grunt leaving his mouth, he took off his large barnacled encrusted hat and rested it on top of his seat.

So much for being a heartless wretch...

#not so heartless after all #pirates of the caribbean #davy jones #wholesome davy jones #i love those two

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shleepys · 5 years ago

Text

Summer Tones

This story can be found on my Archive of Our Own! I recommend going there and reading the notes I’ve left. Any feedback (constructive criticism or support) on either platform is highly appreciated. :)

Chapter One

Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6

- - - - - -

May 21st, 1984

Primary Colors

“Fuck,” Steve Harrington whispered, bracing for impact as someone pushes him into another. He’s getting - trying to get through the crowd before the song dies out and another more upbeat than before takes its place, before he gets shoved to the ground, trampled over, and stomped on until he dies. The place reeked of booze and sweat, the drunken teenagers around him screaming with slurred speech in a challenge to overpower the music screaming through the speakers. Red light bulbs replaced regular ones in every port they could go in the house. Ceiling fans and lamps all glowing with an array of fire and coating everything below them. The lights twisting the familiar faces around him into ones that were bloody, the beat of an overplayed song pounding his temples into his skull, the ground swaying where he needed to go and taunted with its sharp movements.

Months had passed, and Steve didn’t go to a single party, not one. Maybe Nancy had something to do with it, or better yet Hargrove had a part in it, but he didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. Hearing about a party put a bitter taste in his mouth, and thinking in-depth about one made him physically recoil in disgust. But, someway and somehow, someone dragged him into one and convinced him to stay until it ended. Well, he actually couldn’t leave until it ended. He didn’t have a car, he was driven there by someone at the party meaning that until they were ready to go, he couldn’t leave.

The very last night of their school year, graduation had already happened and this party being the aftermath of it. Every single person in his grade and some in lower were here, but of course, Nancy and Jonathan weren’t. He didn’t expect them to come and if they had then he just hadn’t seen them yet. Just a cliché ‘my parents aren’t home’ party in a house packed full of drunks. Fun.

Another bump and push and he escaped the onslaught of sweaty mindless bodies, allowing him to run to the wall and find some remarkably tiny amount of safety with it. At least part of the problem was out of the way, but for how long? A silent groan slid past Steve’s lips as he let the wall catch his head and his eyes slam shut, the burgundy lights still passing his eyelids. His heart and head were thumping faster than the beat, slowly making him feel the need to scream and cry to get something out before his body exploded.

Footsteps were treading near, closer and closer to him until they were a little too close. His eyes fluttered open and formed into a squint, tilting his head to the side to see who intruded on his personal bubble. Hargrove stood towering over him with the ghost of a smile playing at his lips, disgustingly beautiful baby blues nearly violet under the red lights but full of something Steve hadn’t seen from him before. Concern.

“You aight, Harrington? You don’t look too good.”

Steve stood straight and cleared his throat. “I’m good- just tired.”

He made a noise of disagreement, “Call me a damned liar, but I think you’re more than just tired.” Billy fidgeted with the hem of his denim pocket as they stood next to the wall, a new song even more upbeat and thunderous than any previous beginning to take ahold of the mind’s in the room and force them to drunkenly screech and convulse in dance.

Steve furrowed his brows at him, “… How did you know I was here?”

“I saw you walk through the crowd, you looked like you were about to throw up, and so I followed you… and maybe Tommy also told me earlier. But ‘wasn’t like I had a search warrant in your name, Harrington. Just making sure you’re fine.” Steve searched over Billy’s face, a shiver ripping up his spine as he took in unfamiliar features and noted them. Bags of purple hung under his eyes, lips twisted into a frown, no cocky brow raise or shark-like smile, he looked… dead, like he wasn’t himself.

“Are you okay?” Steve questioned, observing the look of confusion plastering itself across the other’s face.

“Of course I’m fine. I’m tired of the drunken assholes who won’t stop screaming every lyric of these damn songs. But, I guess that’s just because I haven’t had much to drink.” Billy turned away from the other, watching over the sea of people as they waved around like a field of wheat in a thunderstorm. “Do you wanna go in the front? I need to smoke for a bit, get out of here before I shove my foot up someone’s ass.”

Steve glared, “Like mine, again?” Billy let out a strained half-hearted laugh, hitching his hands in his coat pockets.

“Maybe, maybe not.” An awkward pause and look between the two shook as pictures rattled behind them. Billy contemplated what to say next like they were playing a game of chess, pondering what move he would play, how he could word this to not sound snarky. He swallowed and slowly spoke, “Look, I really want to talk to you Harrington, in someplace preferably silent or generally just quieter than this shit-show.”

Billy tried to flash a grin, even if it turned into a weak one, but all it came out to be an anxious quirk with the corners. Hargrove being serious with him? Dead serious? “Lead the way, Hargrove.”

The full throttle of another song attempted to sneak out with the two as they went onto the front porch, however, the door refused to let it get to them by cutting the tone down. Crickets sang their silent muse along with the vibrations of the music in the dark patches of grass that were untouched by the change in blue porch light that coated everything in an ocean of navy. Warmth hugged him from the summer breezes that ghosted across what exposed skin they had, the wind twirling a few plastic cups across the yard in front of them. Steve sat down on the gritty steps leading to the door with a new sense of anxiety. A million things could take place, a million different opportunities for Billy to turn this into some ploy so he could beat the shit out of him.

Something stole his attention as it scratched and flickered, Billy’s lighter flared out to greet the cigarette edging his lips until the end emitted a pale red. Billy sat down with a ploof right next to Steve as smoke rolled smoothly out and disappeared into the air above.

“What did you want to talk about?” Steve questioned, fiddling with the end of his shirt.

Billy’s head cocked to the side in thought. Stray blonde hairs stuck to his glimmering forehead and thumb slid intently up and down his cigarette. The game of chess had come back in session. “There is a lot that I wanted to talk to you about.” Steve watched a shaky cigarette drag and exhale of turquoise smoke. “So, let’s start with how your day has been going, shall we?”

“How my day has been going?” Steve cocked a brow in confusion from the random question.

“That’s what I said.”

Steve rolled his eyes. "It’s quite frankly been nothing but shit. I was an idiot and said I wanted to come here, and now my ride home is off somewhere drunk and probably in the pool.”

Billy let out a small huff, “You couldn’t drive yourself here?”

“My parents are out of town for the next I don’t know how long. I don’t have a car.”

"Ah, I see.” Billy licked his upper lip as silence overcame them both. “I could always drive you home,” he mumbled.

“…What?”

“I said, I could always drive you home, Harrington. God, I hope that shitty music didn’t make you deaf, I’d rather not have to repeat myself twenty- or no maybe thirty!-”

“Alright, I get it, Hargrove!”

Another moment of silence.

Billy licked his bottom lip, eyes tracing between the cigarette and Steve. “So, me driving you home, is it a yes or no?”

“… If you’re okay with driving me back, then yes.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t’ve asked if not.” Billy gestured the cigarette to Steve, the embers gleaming in excitement as Harrington took a puff and ash fluttered away as if encouraging Hargrove to start spilling.

“One thing I knew I wanted to,” a pause, “I needed to talk about was the way I have always acted towards you. And I know, I know, I seem like I’m on some kind of drug talking to you like the way I am right now, but Max brought up some shit that’s been making me think for the past two weeks and driving me absolutely goddamn insane.”

The music reaching to escape the barrier of the door faded out of existence as Steve focused on what the other said. This was a man to man- a person to person talk bound to be packed full of some sort of sentiment, and Steve had no clue what to expect out of it.

“I’m sorry, sorry for the things I’ve done to you and everyone else in this world. I regret it so goddamn much Steve. I’m an asshole, I have been for the majority of my fucking life and I try to escape it, but it always finds it’s goddamn way right back to me like some kind of shadow I don’t want to follow. I shouldn’t have beaten you up at the Byers or fuck with you the way I have been. It wasn’t right…” Billy scoffed at himself, a grave self-deprecating ‘ha’ forcing itself out from the back of his throat, his voice thickening with pain. “But I guess you wouldn’t care that I’m apologizing, you wouldn’t care a single bit. I’ve caused you an insane amount of pain. I deserve to be spat on, shoved to the ground, beat to a pulp- fucking killed.” He half-heartedly laughed through an incoming sob as the corners of his eyes pricked and pinched. “I don’t deserve this chance to apologize to you.”

Billy tried to blink back tears in an attempt to prevent himself from crying in front of Steve, showing any form of weakness he had taught himself to hide for all these years, but it didn’t work. Not this time. “I fucking hate my dad, I hate that I turned into what he wanted me to be.” The glossed over irises spouted rivers, pouring and streaming down his cheeks as he somberly cackled and heaved for air. “I turned into him.” His lungs were set ablaze in the madness and laughing soon switched for pleas in the form of sobbing. A plea for some sort of change, a plea for forgiveness, a plea for something more than the same cycle of torment. He wanted to get out of this town and away from his dad, find his mom and make things right between them both. He tried to hide his face with his palm but instead subconsciously wiped away the streams leaving bitter trails down the sides, the cyan overcast making it seem as if his eyes were glowing.

Steve’s eyes burned and blurred as his emotions ran rampant, copying what Billy had done earlier, laughing through a sob while empathy joined trapeze artists in a mission to bend and break his heartstrings. There was a barrier between them, like with the music and the door. A barrier of knowing, being knowledgeable about one another. Steve didn’t know about his home life, what has led him up to this point. But, he knew what the other spoke of, what he wept for forgiveness about.

“I-,” Steve’s voice quivered as he shifted to face the other. Billy let out a loud sniff as he tried to frantically take control of himself, he gave another short pain-filled chuckle as he shakily turned to the other with brows furrowed. He exploded into tears again, his mind like a waterfall that had been blocked and building up with pushed down emotions until tonight. The breakdowns never happened in front of anyone, they were always in the middle of the night after days- weeks- months of suppressing and regretting everything, sobbing and heaving into his pillow until the sun greeted the horizon and kissed the dark sky with red, wishing his mom would come, someone would come to fix it all and help him escape reality for just a minute, a second. These breakdowns never happened in front of anyone, so Billy didn’t know how to stop the resentment bubbling and burning in his chest with every breath he took. Thoughts ripped him apart as he got in his own head.

Steve wouldn’t understand. Steve is going to tell everyone. Dad is going to find out.

Billy shakily stood up from the cement hurling his cigarette to the cement to abandon and let glow until it eventually died. “But, you wouldn’t understand pretty boy-” His voice trembled, “You’ve never experienced a damn bit of rejection or heartbreak or abuse in your fucking life! You’d rather tell everyone in damn Hawkins what’ve happened tonight just to fuck with me Harrington- to get everyone to join to ‘make fun of Billy’ train!“

Steve shot up from the staircase, a lump shifting and bouncing in his throat as he responded, “Billy, stay. Okay? Stay here, let’s fucking talk. Just me and you.”

“I don’t fucking want to! And, you know what? I don’t fucking have to!”

“Well, good for fucking you, Hargrove! But I want you to shut the fuck up for a second and listen to me because this- is just- the whole idea you have for me- it’s this misconception of me!” Steve yelled.

Billy started for the door, his hands ghosting the handle before being yanked back by the jacket collar and spun around to face Steve. Spit flew from his mouth as Billy hissed, “I’m going to break your jaw if you don’t stop, Harrington! I know your intentions, I know who you are-!”

“I haven’t walked a single day in your shoes, have you walked a day in mine? A day of mine a year ago? Fuck no you didn’t, because you had goddamn clue who I was a year ago and I had no idea who you were either! I was an asshole, every single person my friends sought out to be lower than us as a lesser human being- a goddamn nobody was treated with the same challenge every time to provide the most extreme forms of emotional and physical bullying the entire town of Hawkins has ever seen! But you know what? I’d rather be a nobody than stick to the expectations that have been given to me- the expectation to push- spit on, shove to the ground, beat to a pulp- Billy.” A choked sob erupted from his throat. “I fucking understand.”

They stood there, eyes deadlocked, their tears sparkling in indigo. Brows fell out of their rigid place, grinding teeth came to a stop, nostrils relaxed. Steve slowly whispered, "But, you are right. I don’t understand some things. I don’t know what happened to you before you moved here or what goes on in your home life. So, help me. Help me understand you. I’m here for you. I can help you.”

Billy inhaled sharply, a sorrow-filled laugh filling the blank space of silence that had been floating thereafter Steve finished. Steve continued standing there staring into the other’s eyes, hoping that his attempt to calm Billy down and hold an olive tree branch with him would stay and succeed.

“I would appreciate that, Steve.” He paused, taking a long sniff as he played with the hem of his jacket despite his vision being blurred from the tears seeping out. “I really would.” Another long sniff. “Are you ready to go? I don’t think we should stay. I don’t want to stay.”

“I can drive if you want me to, Billy.” Billy made a face at him that screamed, oh hell no.

He smacked his lips and sniffed again, “Firstly, I asked you if you wanted a ride home,” he paused, now holding a finger up to the other’s face, “secondly how do I know you’re not a bad driver?”

“I mean there is only one way to find out if I am,” Steve smirked. Billy rose a brow, a cocky smile sliding its way onto his face as his arm came back to his side.

“No, and that’s my final answer.”

“Awn, really? I was excited to get to crash your Camaro.”

Billy rolled his eyes and let out a tiny chuckle. “Yeah, sorry-” He started to walk away from Steve, hopping down the steps with another sniff and starting towards his parked car. “The driver’s seat’s off-limits, pretty boy!”

Yellow car lights paved a path down the overcast roads they drove on, Steve giving directions when they neared turns or stops, every once in awhile catching himself staring at Billy’s hands and noting how his grip altered with the ending of songs on the radio, how he had a bandage wrapped around his thumb, how he chewed on his thumbnail when they stopped at signs and twisted in his seat to look both ways. He observed him but didn’t say a thing. A feeling of nervousness washed over him, his mind lecturing him about how that they said anything that an awkward entity would clutch their necks and asphyxiate them - as if it weren’t clawing at their seats, saliva dripping off its chin as it prepares to climb over the center console and go in for the kill.

Billy could sense it too, fear bubbling in his chest as he continued to drive and the figure towering over him twisted a coil of his hair around it’s long forefinger. He took a deep breath before partially switching his attention to Steve. A quick glance in hopes to break the thickening air and start some small talk, however, he caught him staring back. They locked eyes for a few seconds before breaking the stare and going back to the road. Watching the silhouettes of trees whipping by and waiting for something to fucking kill what had it’s hand sliding up their torsos for the skin on their neck.

Billy pulled into the driveway, put the car in park, and turned to Steve, waiting in silence for something- anything to come out of his mouth, but all Steve could do is stare back and expect the exact same from him.

“Um,” Steve mumbled.

“Um, yeah. We’re at your place, home, casa-” his hand moved with every word for ‘home’ he could list off, Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’m aware, trust me I’m aware.”

Silence.

Steve fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “I almost don’t… I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“What?” Billy cocked a brow.

“I don’t want to leave you alone. Okay?” Steve couldn’t look the other in the eyes - not from fear, but embarrassment. He sheepishly started again, continuing to focus on anything but Billy, focus on a million other things other than Billy. “You can stay the night at my house if you want to. I have a couch in my bedroom I can sleep on, you can have the bed.”

Billy noted the little quirks about Steve in the darkness, like how when he was refusing to face him, he continuously chewed at his bottom lip and his fingers did dances on whatever piece of clothing he had on. He noted the anxiety that took form in faint dark circles under his eyes and bobbing in his throat as he swallowed. “I’ll stay,” Billy whispered, watching over the other’s face for a reaction.

Steve tore his attention away from the nothingness and their eyes deadlocked, faint smiles replacing the frowns that stood there.

Getting out of the car, passing through the front door, and going up the stairs became a breeze knowing Hargrove followed every step he took, knowing that tonight maybe Billy took the opportunity to escape and feel safe in what he referred earlier to his place, home, casa.

Steve laid on the bed with his arms resting above his head, counting every space and line that was embedded into the ceiling before turning to face the bathroom door. He didn’t know why his face got red hot or why it felt so different seeing Billy take off his shirt to get in the shower, but it just did. The privacy of the whole situation was weird. Everything tonight was weird. Weird.

Eventually, the natural yellow light emitting from his lamp had disappeared with the click of it’s switch. They were left in the darkness of Steve’s room to lay and ponder. To ponder everything leading up to this very moment where Billy Hargrove was sleeping in Steve Harrington’s bed, but of course without him in it. Steve slept on the couch in the room, continuing to stare up at the ceiling and make some sort of sense out of the imaginative colors that danced in his vision and what exactly happened tonight. Steve went to a party, had an emotional breakdown with his worst enemy, and now they’re sleeping in the same room, wide awake as ever with the same question toying with their minds.

What were they now?

#alluding to abuse #angst #crying #banter #enemies to friends to lovers #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove

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