#but i wanted to draw a scared/angry expression and the mask was just ruining it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

binniedeactivated · 3 years ago

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Little¡! || txt 🍼

✎𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐭𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲

✎ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞

✎ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕; 1.3k

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺; 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆!𝒕𝒙𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝑴𝑫𝑳𝑩, 𝑨𝑩𝑭, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑳𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔. 𝑰𝒇 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆. 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒇𝒇 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒊𝒕.

𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕; I was thinking of this one request i had for a little!txt request (again, not sure if I sent this in or not ashnn): it’s more of a baby! or toddler!txt x mommy! reader (but you can change it to little! x caregiver! if you like!) so it’s basically where taehyun is scared of thunderstorms but wants to be a big boy and show his older brothers he can sleep on his own. but obviously he can’t 🥺 so he uses his baby brother Kai as an excuse to sneak into his mom’s room for cuddles?

❝ [ @𝒃𝒖𝒈𝒔𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒆] 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇𝒇...

it was that kind of night again.

the nights that taehyun hated. It was storming outside and the rain was beating the glass of his bedroom window. He swallows watching a flash of lightening streak across the darkened sky. With a flash came a loud clap and a roar that was loud enough to make taehyun shrivel underneath his blankets.

it's going to be okay. it's okay. taehyun tried his best to assure himself but his nervousness was raising his body temperature thus making the air underneath the blankets hot and thicker than he expected. He could barely breath under there but it was the closest to the feeling of safety that his mommy gave him.

"tyun you aren't scared are you?". yeonjun teases with his arms folded behind his head. his bed was across from tyun's like how soobin's was across from gyu's. Kai's bed was right beside tyun's but his bed was also vacant, as kai often made it his duty to cuddle with his mommy on nights like this.

something tyun wished he could do.

"Of course he is, look at him. he's hiding!". soobin chimes in. he smirks a little when he sees the small boy peaking from the blankets trying to mask his fear as best as he could. "you know if you're scared you can go in mommy's bed with kai. the hyung's are okay in here". yeonjun adds knowing full well tyun was scared shitless. Yeonjun's comment left a feeling of distress washing over his younger brother's small frame. Thunder rolled across the sky yet again and he trembled at the sound feeling his bladder become weak. "hey! I'm a hyung too. I don't need to be in mommy's bed". he lied. He swallows at the sound of the rain coming down much harder this time around. The splatter of water made him squeeze his legs together tightly, the last thing he wanted was to ruin his bedsheets and pajama shorts over this. "oh because if you need mommy's bed you're not a big boy. that makes you a baby". gyu responds, joining in on the teasing from his own bed. "I am a big boy! I'm in my own bed aren't I?".

"barely. your head isn't even out of your covers all the way". soobin points out. taehyun hesitantly sticks his head out a bit more, not even realizing that himself. His grips his blanket firmly with his clammy fists. "Leave me alone hyung. I can sleep in my own bed. You guys stop messing with me!". they all snicker in laughter at his sudden outburst. Each of them turn over, getting comfortable. "yeah who are we kidding?". yeonjun teases, "taehyun is a big boy like us". watching each of them get comfortable was like a nightmare for taehyun who usually had kai to talk to him throughout his nightly endeavors. Call him a loser all you wanted but he enjoyed conversing with his baby brother. He was precious and he always tried to protect taehyun even if he was younger. But if this is what being a big boy meant, learning to sleep alone then he would have to learn to adjust.

He settled in his blankets watching the silhouettes of his older brothers drift off into their own slumber. Taehyun found the concept insane, being able to sleep comfortably with thunder and lightening flashing through the bedroom windows. It was scary to watch, especially with the weeping willow tree grazing his window. In the daytime, the tree was his friend. he often sat under it to read, climbed up it with kai on sunny days and eat ice cream, and if it's safe to tell you, sometimes he talked to it when he had troubles that he didn't want tell his brothers about. He imagined it was like a grandpa, listening and nodding wisely whenever he expressed his feelings. At night though, and especially during storms he grew scared of the papa willow tree he often found comfort in. It looked angry when it was waving like that in the thunderous breeze, like the branches was reaching out to grab him at any given moment. The thought alone made his heart tank.

you can do this tyunnie. you can sleep. nothing is going to hurt you.

try telling that to the sky, taehyun thought. The thunder rumbled above him and surges of lightening fell across it in his wake. The breeze whirled, so much that the tree actually looked like it was winding back this time. Taehyun felt his heart stop at the sight, each of the branches waiving back long and thin in the light blue void. Taehyun braced himself allowing his conscience to draw a face on the tree bark, one that scared him enough to where his bladder let loose. One by one the branches were coming towards him which led him scurrying out of his bed and into the hallway with a high pitched whine.

tyun couldn't help himself anymore, he was a wimp. Not just that, he just peed himself. The warmth of his fresh tears made his cheeks rosy, his face flushed a cherry red as he cried right in the hallway. Right in the middle of the puddle he was making beneath his feet.

great. just great. he thought.

"tyunnie? what's the matter what happened?". his mommy saw her little boy with his arms over his small face crying, his black shiny strands covering his forehead. he tries his best to look at her with clear eyes but every single time he spoke a knot would form in his throat and he would start crying again. He hated this. He hated feeling like a baby but he was scared. She took her thumbs and dried his tears from his cheeks. she could tell that whatever the problem was, taehyun didn't want to talk about it.

"How about we get you cleaned up okay?".

taehyun was grateful for that, grateful for her. grateful that she gave him a bath that night and told him stories about the things she used to do during thunder storms when she was his age, like read books and play outside. taehyun thought it was crazy that she even left the house during a time like that but that's one thing he loved about her. she was fearless. "you were never afraid of thunderstorms mommy?". taehyun asks while she washes around his ears. "nope, never. I never thought of it as something to be scared of. It was interesting to me". taehyun nodded to himself. "why tyunnie? are you scared of thunderstorms?". he quickly shook his head. "no never! I was just curious that's all". she smiled to herself, finishing up washing his face.

when he was all dry and now in clean clothes she bends to kiss him on his cheeks. the softness of her lips always made him blush. It was obvious whenever taehyun blushed, his dimples waded deep in his cheeks. "I love you tyun. I want you to sleep well okay?". sensing that she was about to leave he clamps his tiny hands around her wrists. "mommy is it okay if I sleep with you tonight? I like talking to kai kai before bed". he lied, well kind of. He liked talking to kai but he was also afraid to sleep alone. She obliged, taking his hand and leading him to her room.

Words couldn't describe how safe he felt within the comfort of his mommy and heuning kai on her huge bed and fluffy blankets. "Hi hyung! are you sleeping with us tonight?". kai smiled brightly in his pink onesie, more than happy to see his brother. Tyun nods with a small smile. His mommy cuddled them both, allowing their heads to sink onto her chest. She had put on a cartoon for them to watch and all of tyun's fear and anxiety left his tiny little heart. He heard thunder and saw all kinds of lightening but it no longer phased him.

If this made him a baby, maybe tyun didn't want to be a big boy after all.

#little!txt #little!tyun #tomorrow by together #kang taehyun #taehyun fluff #toddler!txt

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maple-cloak · 3 years ago

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So I was reading @chipper-smol shitlordAU and got inspired to make this Drabble

Basically it’s a 4K (wait Fuck that’s in no way right I thinks it’s more like 400 wtf was I thinking) word what-if where Ghost fights Radiance but she gets scared and runs away.

Also PK giving Ghost a hug.

Enjoy!

The Radiance was livid,

or rather, more livid then before.

First it was that Wyrm, who had created itself a new form and descended as a bug, a pale and pathetic bug. Stealing her followers away with his artificial light, Refracted light, a false light from a mere Wyrm who knew nothing of it.

But the bugs of what is now Hallownest followed that false light in lieu of her own, and she soon found herself forgotten, her entire being was relegated to the sol object that spoke of her Light. A single withering statue atop the nearby mountain peak.

She had waited, dwelling in the faint dreams the statue held, waiting for what her traitorous creations called their Pale King to finish her off.

But he never came.

Instead she was left there, fuming in her own rage, when she heard someone approaching. She briefly though the wretched Wyrm had finally come to end her being entirely, but was instead found by some simple miners, who had decided to climb to the peak of the crystal filled mountain, their helmets bearing a simple crest.

The Wyrms crest for his new kingdom.

And she saw an chance for revenge.

The simple memorabilia was enough for her to infect their minds, and in turn infect others who came in contact; she commanded them through their dreams to talk and spread word about her statue. To get more to learn of her, to get more to talk, and wonder, and before that Wyrm could learn how, her rage spread forth. With enough bugs to remember she had enough power to spread through his kingdom, expanding her influence throughout the populace, causing the kingdoms sharp decline, and she reveled in the kings panic and desperation.

Eventually the king had the idea to contain her in a vessel, using the void below the kingdom to make a being with no mind to think and be influenced, no will for her to break, and no voice to cry her name in suffering.

But she knew that the king had failed.

While its thoughts were not as loud as the common bug, there were still there, almost silent, but she could still hear the mantra it repeated, still feel the slightest of wills, and she knew that it would not hold.

“Do not think”

But that is a though

“Do not feel”

But the pain so great

“Do not speak”

But you must scream

“Do not hope…”

There is no hope for Hallownest

Eventually the cracks started to form. And she began to seep her influence out through them.

It didn’t matter if the kingdom had already fallen.

It didn’t matter that the Wyrm is no longer here.

She would destroy all evidence of the kingdom, leaving nothing behind for the few survivors to call home, and once that was done she would infect one of the many travelers that came through, and become a god in a new land.

But then came a second vessel

A vessel that had manage to escape the void and her servants who impeded their escape out into the open world without her notice, and when it came back she felt a tinge of fear. It had left the kingdom, and without the influence of the Wyrm that gave those around him minds it would become truly empty. And if it were to attempt so she would be imprisoned with no chance of escape.

Fortunately, there had been multiple influences, not just from a single ignorant king failing to notice the mind it had given, but from a multitude of bugs, instilling their own ideas onto to the second vessel. Gifting it a mind and a will, and she saw it as no threat.

But then it encountered one of her formal followers -Considered a traitor even by the other moths of her tribe, and she gave the vessel the Dream Nail. The moment she saw this she began sealing the mind of her container, preventing the other vessel from attacking her directly with the weakened talisman. The “Seer” however instructed the vessel to restore the talisman, reinvigorating the nail with essence by the time she had taken back the life she gave, the Nail had fully awoken

To worsen matters, the vessel had gotten the former Wyrms charm, and used it to unite the void under its ever growing will. And when it arrived at the temple it unsealed The Radiance prepared to use its container, missing a limb and having a cracked mask from her efforts to hastily take control, to kill the smaller vessel, a ghost of the kings attempts to contain her, given form with the goal of ending her life like its parent so many years ago.

But as the Kings Ghost and the Broken Vessel fought, the Ghost hesitated. It had seen its siblings pain and saw as it injured itself in order to give it a better chance of victory, of finally ending her.

And it ran.

It couldn’t handle its siblings pain and The Radiance laughed as the Ghost ran away, allowing her to reign unopposed.

But the Ghost was tenacious, and found a way to her without injuring its sibling.

The Godseekers, they came in search of a new God after theirs abandoned them; a role she intend to fill. But the Ghost had used their mind to get to her, fighting their way through the ‘Gods’ of Hallownest, many of whom she had control over, and eventually, they arrived at the peak, at her peak.

She though she would win, in a realm where she was no longer held back by the myriad of infected bugs or the broken vessel, but that Ghost was tenacious. And each ensuing fight it grew closer to victory, closer to consuming her within the void.

And it did, it had given the void focus, and it had consuming her.

But despite this, despite struggling within its clutches, her light drowning within its dark abyss. She found herself back in Hallownest, the people still panicked over the ‘disease’ that spread, the king struggling with his ‘solution’.

She has gleefully taken the second chance at ruining his kingdom, being more thorough then before, but as she infected a chef in order to ruin the kings meals (rather petty, but the further unrest that it would give the king was absolutely delightful) she found it slain by the very Ghost that slew her. She almost didn’t recognize it since it had molted, but it’s movement made it undeniable.

It too had been sent back, and The Radiance was livid.

Or rather, more livid then before

But not only that, she found herself trembling, not just with rage, but with fear. The being no longer had the same control over the void, but it still had the same skill that enabled it to use it at her most vulnerable, it was still the same being that killed Absolute Radiance.

Despite seemingly despising the very same Wyrm, making their life all the more frustrating, it refused to let her have her revenge. And it sought to do what it did before again, this time before she could end the kingdom.

And she was scarred.

———————————————————

The Feral Vessel and the Pale King had gotten into an argument.

Now this wasn’t particularly surprising, the two had always butted heads, but this argument was very heated. The vessel, who seemed to named itself Ghost, had been getting on the Wyrm’s case about its treatment of the Pure Vessel, while the Wyrm got angry at Ghost for instilling ideas into it, and that it they shouldn’t interact it as they have been.

The Pale King now sat in his room, it had been almost a week since the feral vessel Ghost had walked off at the end of their argument, and they had yet to be seen since. He stared at his hand lost in though, staring at the cracked void that stained it, thinking over the argument and going over scenarios of what could’ve been.

He hated to admit it, but he cared for the little Ghost. While it had caused plenty of trouble and headaches, deep down he knew he deserved it. For all the hundreds of thousands of siblings down dead in the void below, he felt that Ghost was his punishment. Humiliating and insulting him for his transgressions, the Wyrm knew he deserved it all.

And behind the mask of child-like pranks and dislike for him, he and his Root had long since suspected that they somehow knew more then even his foresight could account for. The familiarity with the White Palace, despite never once being there. How they traveled accros Hallownest with ease, knowing where hidden charms lay and even pale ore across the kingdom. Even with the few fights they have had, he heard they even wield a nail with such familiarity and ease, even ending a bout with the Pale Vessel in a draw despite receiving no training unlike the latter.

And above all, how they still care for his Root, and how she cares for them. How she enjoys mentoring them (and occasionally aiding in embarrassing the Wyrm but it’s hard to be mad when your wife is practically telling them to do it). Then there’s the excitement they show when sharing the language of hands they created with their mother, a language without words but with expression and symbols. It was something he actually wanted to praise them for, and something he was exited to learn as well.

The Wyrm frowned as these thoughts passed, bringing him back to the argument. Ghost was always insistent on the fact that the Pure Vessel wasn’t… pure. Hollow. Empty…

Unable to properly contain the Radiance.

And the worst part was that he knew they were right. He didn’t want to admit it, but Ghost was always right, even before they interfered, the vessel was never pure. The King always claimed that he knew what to do, how to solve the problem and that the Pure Vessel - Hollow, Ghost had taken to calling it (no doubt because his young sister, Hornet, calling it that) was the only, and the right answer.

He had practically abandoned his foresight by now, the only path he could see since tossing all those eggs into the void was one were his beloved kingdom fell, his beloved subjects who he cared so much for dead at the hands of a spiteful light, their burning corpses wandering his kingdoms husk. All that he worked for, and all that he is, was doomed.

The Pale King was snapped away from with thoughts with a knock as his door, and he quickly regained composer, if anything he could give his subjects some hope for their future. Calmly (or at least appearing so) he walked to the door and opened it.

“What is it?” He asked the guard, they were panting, having run as quickly to fetch the King

“T-the… “ the guard cleared his through. “There’s a messenger here my lord, form the Archives, says it’s urgent”

The Wyrm steeled himself, news from the Archives ment news of the infection. He dismissed the guard and swiftly made his way to the entrance hall, greeting the messenger, whom he recognized to be Monomon’s assistant.

“What is it Quirrel? Has Monomon learned something?” He inquired, startling the bug as he shot up straight.

“Y-yes your majesty it’s about the infection…”

Quirrel paused briefly for a breathand the Pale King noticed the faintest to hope in his voice

“The infection, it’s… it’s regressed”

The news had startled him, regressed? The Ra- the Old Light was the cause of the infection, it’s no ordinary disease she invade their mind and takes over . For the infection to regress would mean…

“Prepare me a stag for the Queens Station.” He ordered a nearby servent, who had already been anticipating such a command and he made his way to the Archives in the Fog Canyon.

He made his way swiftly through the caves, Quirrel aiding in avoiding the various Ooma’s that lived there.

“Monomon what do you mean the Infection has regressed?” He asked, walking straight into the main office.

“Well you majesty it’s exactly that, previously infected bugs have either lessening symptoms, regaining control over themselves, or simply becoming uninfected entirely!” She responded, expecting the king not to barge in in such a manner.

“But that would mean…”

“…somethings happened to the Old Light”

They both paused, a silence filled the room as they wondered what could’ve happened. As the Wyrm ran a hand up its face a though crossed his mind. Ghost, they always knew more then they should, familiar with things they have had no way to experience before. Could they have…?

“Keep looking into it, I’ll see if I can figure anything else”

“Be careful my lord” Monomon responded as they left the archives.

A single thought ran through his head, ‘Where was that Feral Vessel? Where is Ghost?”. It had been a few days yes, but what if they were preparing for something, going from one corner of Hallownest to the next to get what they needed for… whatever it was. He made his way to the resting grounds, where Ghost would regularly search for… something, but he found no evidence of them being there. We’re else would the feral vessel have gone? He stood in a empty plot, a place where he planned to build a monument for the dreamers.

Deepnest? No, hornet would not have wondered where they went when she came to visit. The Queens Gardens? No, his dear Root would’ve found them easily in her domain. So where could they be? He though it over, could there be anyone who would know of their whereabouts?

He paused. Grimm. Ghost had shown an unusual affection for the Troupe Master, and… he froze in a panic. When Ghost had first met Grimm his foresight had shown him the infection being killed form the inside.

He immediately took off, flying over to where the Troupes tent resided. No! They couldn’t have? Panic filled the Pale King, how could he not realize? Ghost was going to enter Radience’s realm with Grimms aid! They were, no they ARE fighting the Radiance!!!

The Pale King stumbled as he landed in front of the tent running inside.

“Grimm! Grimm!” He barely hid his concern for his child skidding to a halt in the middle of the show ring.

“Grimm!” He called out once more as the Troupe Master appeared with his usual (but still well performed) burst of flame.

“With what do we-“

“Not now Grimm, where is my child!” He interrupted the Nightmare Vessel, earning a slight frown that quickly turned into a sly smile.

“Your child hmmm~ and here I though that particular vessel was an annoyance you would love to be rid of.” He sneered, while normally the King would retort to such a comment, he was too preoccupied with the well-being of his little Ghost.

“Grimm, please” he pleaded out of breath. “Is… are… are they alright?”

Grimm paused, staring blankly at the Pale Wyrm. “I’m afraid I can’t be certain of their fate.” He stated blankly.

“Did they…?”

“Yes” Grimm nodded, not even needing the hear the question proper.

“They entered the realm of dreams to fight The Radiance, a trip that’s - unfortunately, one-way.”

The Pale Wyrm fell to his knees, tears that were once held right below his eyes végane to flow. Grimm for one was somewhat uncomfortable, not so much for having someone break down in front of them, no it was who had fallen before them with tears flowing down their face. They had never imagined the Wyrm to do such a thing, they never seemed the type. The type to adamantly refusing to untill alone or with someone they are close to, and even then resisting the urge to cry.

“I did make sure they knew what they were getting into.” Grimm comforted attempting to lift his spirits. “They even insisted we dance to show they were able, and might I add, they put up quite the performance.”

“They we-are quite stubborn.” The Wyrm said, standing up and dusting himself off, hoping that at the very least, they are still alive.

“There you go! Much more fitting for a king eh?” Grimm encouraged as the King wiped his eyes and composed himself. “Yes, I apologies, that was rath-” he stopped mid-sentence in shock, and Grimm followed his eyes and saw why. There was the vessel, Ghost, coming from Grimm’s quarters, limping.

——————————————————————

“Your certain of this?” Grimm inquired for like, the 15th time. Ghost was getting rather annoyed at the question and all it’s variants

‘Yes, I know what I’m doing.’ They signed again. They had already gotten all the charms and weapons they needed. A Mothwing Cloak which they manage to fuse with some of their void, (very painful process and it wasn’t nearly as effective as it would be if they had access to the pit below the palace.) some Monarch Wings they stole found (thankfully the Kingsmold were too preoccupied with Mawlek to notice) and a variety of spells from various Snail Shaman throughout Hallownest, (none of which were killed and/or dead, which is always good) and of course their Pure Root Nail (though they would’ve gladly stolen one from Sly if they needed one)

With those and the charms they took collected between getting everything else, they were more then ready. Grimm let out a sigh, “Very well then, do give us a superb performance hmm?” He said as he raised a hand, shooting out a light from his palm similar to the one of the Dream Nail Ghost was familiar with, only Grimms was a crimson red instead of a bright white.

As Grimm swung his hand down is a (stylish) arc, Ghost found himself engulfed in a red light, fading to a more familiar white before fading away entirely. Ghost looked around a platform similar in size in shape to the one in the Pantheon, though the material and style was different, a grey that wasn’t dark, but not light either, but the area surrounding it was, a endless sea of golden clouds.

Ghost didn’t dwell on these thoughts as they climbed up the few floating platforms, and faced the sun that bathed the picturesque scenery, knowing full well that this was no place of beauty

Ghost drew their Pure Root, their desire to protect Hallownest - and more specifically, their sibling Hollow - giving the Root its form as a blade, as sharp as a Pure Nail and just as deadly - and they faced the sun as she, The Radiance responded to their challenge with her anger.

The small platforms Ghost was standing on vanished, he fell a short ways to the larger platform he ‘awoke’ on, and didn’t hesitate to start attacking the spiteful god. Starting off with what could be mistaken for a shout, a scream towards the sky as their soul and void manifested as an upward outburst of screaming heads, The Radiance cried with rage

Blades flow form the sides, which ghost easily dashed between, not wanting to use their Shade Cloaks invulnerability too soon, as they slashed upwards towards the giant moth. They had both fought before, and Ghost had long since memorized how to evade each attack. Radiance shot out circles of swords, but Ghost backed off and jumped. aligning themself properly they shot out a spell they didn’t have when they fought before, a stream of bright daggers shot out from their hand, only a few hitting their mark before The Radiance teleported away.

As Ghost landed they quickly dashed to the side and blades shot out form the ground, covering over a third of the platform, and a beam of light from above threatened them. Using their Shade Cloak they easily fazed through the beam, and slashed at the sun-moth with a nail art before a soul-charged stomp on the ground, void and soul rising around Ghost protectively while striking at the gif above.

The fight had continued for a long time, Ghost evading or countering all of Radiance’s attacks, while the god itself became more and more desperate, as fewer and fewer attacks hit (not that many hit to begin with) as Ghost got into their rhythm. Before long, it took off higher and Ghost pursued, dodging incoming searing rays of light. But before Ghost could do more damage to end the fearful god something they never expected happened.

They woke up, in Grimm’s room, in the Troupes tent. They looked around, did they do it? They dropped off the ledge they were on and winced, almost crumpled from the pain. Did the Radiance hit them with one last-ditch blast? They slowly lowered themselves to the floor and looked down the hall down the hall to the main performance area of the tent. We’re they still in the dream realm? No, they would’ve seen the Nightmare Hearts leathery viens in the hall, and there’s no Nightmare essence floating around. So that means the Radiance has ejected them from the dream.

The Radiance fled, huh. Ghost had never considered it but they suppose it does make sense, without the dream nail they couldn’t return and hunt it down, and they had no void to restrain it. Ghost found that annoying, all that effort of collect charms and spells and other useful items and the stupid thing leaves. Coward.

With a huff the Vessel stands up, might as well let Grimm know their okay at least, and make there way down the vein-less hall. They tried to heal their injuries with Soul but found they had none, used at every opportunity during the fight with the flying puff-ball.

As they made their way down the hall they heard two voices talking, one was clearly Grimm but they found trouble identifying the other. The voice was male and they seemed distraught, but Ghost couldn’t pin a name, who did they no would be upset? Form what they could tell Grimm told them about what they did, but they didn’t know anyone who would be this upset about it.

But they didn’t have to imagine who when they saw who it was.

And they never would’ve imagined it was their father, the Pale King, who ran up and hugged them the moment he saw them.

And they never expect him to be crying.

The Pale King pulled away enough to get a proper look at the vessel, fresh tears streaming down his face and he held one hand against Ghost’s cheek, not only in shock, but in relief.

“How” he asked, barely a whisper. Ghost wasn’t sure how to respond, and was at a lost for signs at their fathers reaction

Thankfully Grimm was still Grimm and they knew Grimm

“Bra-vo darling!” He exclaimed clapping, “I have to say I did not expect this! How did you escape?”

This was enough to snap ghost back to his surroundings and found a pretty simple way to explain it.

‘Butt head ran away’ they signed

‘Don’t know worse insults’

“She… ran?”

Ghost paused for a moment, staring at their father, then made a gesture like they were throwing something to the side,

‘Ejected me’

As Ghost completed the motion they stumbled to the side, almost falling over until the Pale King caught them

Grimm, for his part, picked a terrible time to laugh openly, much to Ghosts irritation, thinking it was at them.

“Your telling me, your got the Radiance who has been terrorizing this kingdom for years to run in fear” Grim said continuing to laugh, “my goodness you are full of surprises!”

The Pale King could only stare in shock, she had been repelled? Not dead, but still, he didn’t have to consult his foresight to tell that his child he held up had bought him years maybe even a century. For them to have chased off radiance, the skill and strength they must posses…

‘Should be dead’ They signed grumpily, clearly upset at themselves but their father was having none of it

“Don’t understate your accomplishments! For you to have fought Radiance, to have beaten her to the point where she runs away? Maybe she isn’t gone for good but she will not be coming back for decades at the least! You… you’re…” he stammered, pulling the void-born child in for another hug “I… I’m sorry, for the… the atrocity la I’ve done, for my treatment of you, for… for my treatment of your… your sibling.” The Wyrm pulled away looking Ghost directly in their eyes “I was wrong, I’m sorry”

Ghost could only stand shocked at their fathers beaming praise, for their quirky frankly, unnatural behavior… and that last thing, their sibling. There was so much to be done, but things seemed so much… brighter, so much better. Hollow could finally be themself be happy. Ghost was at a lost for words.

‘We… talk later?’ They offered both too overwhelmed and Ghost, too tired, to make proper plans.

“I- yes, yes of course, of course” the father readjusted themself and his son to more effectively carry.

As they made they way out the King paused “Ah! And Grimm” he turned, facing the Troupe Master. “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”

Grimm, who had fallen to the background to allow the two some space perked up and gave an elegant bow to the Pale being.

“Think nothing of it. I had simply set the stage and you two, had been excellent performers!”

The Wyrm nodded his head, while Ghost used its free arm to wave, and the two made their way back home.

#I wrote this in one sitting #and i started at about 3 #it is 5AM #WL is going to squee when she hears about PK hugging Ghost #hollow knight #shitlordau #ghost #feral!ghost #feral vessel #pale king #troupe master grimm #grimm #the radiance

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creepypasta-headcanons · 4 years ago

Text

How you met them

Jeff:

Your parents had to send you to a boarding school due to them being extremely busy with their jobs and them wanting a very intelligent and we'll behaved kid.

Well, things never went like that. Your first weeks in that place were decent, but with the passing of the days, the teachers started to show their true colors.

Some of them were nice, others way more strict but still friendly...and the PE teacher. The school assigned your group a male weird teacher, that was cool with you on your first classes, and then things got perverted.

You wanted to get out of that place and he was the main reason, but also your only hope. He said he would run away with you and be happy, and that's what you did...well, with the exception you tried to knock him out to have time to escape using a fire extinguisher, but it seems that you hit him way too hard in the head.

Luckily you were able to run away fast, and you decided to hide inside an old looking house. Karma, that house was the one where Jeff and his brother grew up together. Jeff was casually walking around the place, and he saw something moving.

He was ready to kill you but then he saw your face, your expression...your eyes.

There was murder in your eyes. Your soul was no longer pure.

“—What the fuck do you think you're doing inside my house? —”

“—GAH! I am so sorry, please, don't tell anyone I'm here...they'll lock me up oh my god. —” And then, you fainted. Jeff took a deep breath to calm his anger, and decided to take you to the Creepyhouse to torture you.

At the end of the day, he never harmed you. He literally just forgot that you were in his room chained up to the wall and your mouth covered with masking tape because Eyeless Jack wanted to show him a dead squirrel that he found earlier.

Later, he went to his room and decided that before killing you he would chat a little bit to know why were you inside his old home.

Nina:

You talked to her at school before, but when she appeared in the news something was extremely off.

"—Someone or something is watching me... —” you thought. The feeling was uneasy but somehow safe.

Later at night, you were laying in your bed crying. You missed Nina. A lot, even if you two chatted a little bit at school.

You were sobbing terribly.

“—...Nina, please...I hope you are okay now... —”

After that sentence, a very loud sound startled your ears. You sat up in your bed and looked at the door: Nina.

“—Please, come with me. We'll live a better life now. —” you had to admit that your decision was kinda weird and stupid. You were living a cool life now, why would you start another one with her?

Oh, yeah, probably because she is holding a knife to your throat.

Eyeless Jack:

You were carefully walking through the forest, looking for some animals to kill. This was your only source of food due to your house and family being far away from everything in a little abandoned town.

You found a rabbit and tried to shoot at it with a big rock but it ran away. You gave the first step to run behind it but unluckily you stepped on a trap that tied you to a nearby tree with a chain.

Three hours passed, and the sun was going down. You were extremely hungry, dizzy and scared. The fact that you heard heavy footsteps didn't help at all.

“—Oh, cool. —”, you heard someone say out loud.

“— Can you please get me te fuck out of here? I am so hungry I think I'm going to die, oh God. —” your stomach growled loudly.

The strange masked guy walked slowly to you, and lowered his head to your ear.

“— Would you eat... something weird? —”, okay, this dude's vibes are extremely off.

“— I'll eat anything. —” and with you saying this, he pulled from his blue hoodie something that looked like a human organ. Ok, now you were scared shitless.

“— E A T. —” he said while getting that thing in his hand closer to your mouth.

You ate it all. What the fuck.

He took you to an abandoned place and when he asked if you wanted to stay here you showed that you didn't really care about your family or friends, proving him that you are one of them.

Sally:

You had a sister that was similar to her, but one day, she was kidnapped from school. This bad news affected your whole family and life.

One family in particular never gave up. Nope, it wasn't your family, they were the Williams.

A couple that once had a beautiful and innocent child, a family that broke apart because of a dirty man that ruined their lives, a family nobody really talked to due to the depressed aura around them. A family that had a daughter.

You always loved them because of the way the acted towards you. They treated you like you were one of them. They told you about their dead daughter and why they wanted to help you.

Still looking for your sister, you decided to have some time alone, some distraction. You went to the graveyard to talk to Sally's tombstone to tell her what's happening right now and how you feel about it.

You found it. It was kinda isolated, away from the other graves. This one had dead tulips, now you're replacing them with fresh and beautiful white roses.

“— H-Hi, Sally...I... —” you felt dumb, and numb.

“— I wanted to talk to you about my life. I know we never met, but I'm pretty sure you were a beautiful and full of life young girl. Your parents miss you so much, and that's why I'm here. My little sister...she....she was kidnapped some month ago and I-I'm really scared about what could be happening to her right now and I-If she's being raped, or if someone is selling her, or...or...—”, the ambience was weird. You took a deep breath.

“— what if she's dead? —” you were sobbing right now.

Something poked your leg.

“— Let me help you. —” when you looked down, you were met by two beautiful green eyes. Sally is by your side.

“— Go to the Michael's Mafia House. He has your sister. I'll bring some friends to help you, okay?—” you hugged her. Her voice was similar to your little sister's one.

Sally disappeared and adrenaline was running through your veins. You went to your house and immediately started looking for one of your favorite knifes from your dad's collection. When you were passing by the living room, you saw your beloved mother lying on the old couch, staring at your sister's picture. You smiled.

You started running towards the place Sally told you to.

The friends she was talking about were some creepypastas, they helped you to get to the boss office and encouraged you to kill him, wich you did. And you enjoyed every single second of it.

At the end, you found the place were your sister was kept captive and freed her and the other people trapped in there. She had clear signals of abuse like the other victims. You felt so angry, but she was okay. Everything was going to be better now, right?

Well, no. The rest of the mafia started looking for you and your family, and they had to move. Things were never the same, you started killing all the guys that showed up to your door to harm your people, and this interested Slenderman.

You ended up visiting the creepyhouse once a month because you had to stay with your family to protect them from the mafia.

Slenderman:

This is the same story as Sally's one. Sometimes you bring your sister with you to play with Sally, and while they played you talked with Slenderman about a plan to get rid of all those mafia members.

He wanted to help since he saw your potential, but he thought that the fact you had to protect your family slowed down your progress at training to be a murderer.

You felt extremely satisfied when you killed, and this was the other reason why you wanted to keep training with him apart of wanting to protect your family at all costs.

_______

I'm sorry if there are some misspellings or weird incoherences, english is not my first language and I made this blog because I wanted to practice my English, writing and drawing skills all at once lmao

#creepyhouse #creepypasta headcanon #creepy house #headcanon #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x reader

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pennamesmith · 4 years ago

Text

Synonyms for Space

A very short story set at the very end of season four. Entrapta and Bow have just seen the people they love most abducted by an invading alien army. Soon, they will help the Rebellion defeat Etheria’s greatest enemy. Right now, they are panicking. But at least they’re panicking together. Now with a sort-of sequel. And another one!

The ash is raining down like snow. Dark shadows loom in the sky. The world is ending.

“Glimmer!”

Bow sinks to his knees at the spot where Glimmer was standing only seconds ago, before a sickly green light took his world away. He makes a noise of anguish and searches for a word that can express how he can possibly feel so angry at and scared for one person simultaneously. He doesn’t find it. He sighs, and stands up.

“Hordak?” Entrapta, only seconds behind Bow, swings hand over hair across his makeshift zipline and lands in a puff of ash next to the distraught archer. “Was that Hordak? Did you shoot him?”

“Only with a gas arrow! And why do you care? He was trying to crush Glimmer with a big hunk of metal!”

“I know, so inefficient.” Entrapta looks away. “Something must have gone wrong. Did his armor malfunction, or…?”

Bow is shaking with emotion. “Are you serious? This isn’t a science project, it’s an alien invasion! Glimmer just got disintegrated!”

“Teleported, actually, based on the energy signature.” Entrapta’s eyes are glued to a data pad. “Hordak was right, they do have working portal technology. They probably couldn’t find us until we shifted out of Despondos. I wonder what powers it all?”

“Teleported?” Bow spins Entrapta around. He ignores the look on her face as she plucks his uninvited hand off her arm. “Does that mean she’s still alive? Does that mean we could get her back? Entrapta, please, she… I…”

“You love her,” Entrapta says, a simple statement of fact. It is her turn to ignore Bow’s expression. “I’ve had that data since Princess Prom. And yes, there is a greater than zero percent chance that we can still get them… her… back. Help me look, we might be able to find something here that can help.”

Entrapta’s words are steady, but her hands are a fidgety blur. Before Bow can say anything, she has hurried away to the forge, trying to look anywhere but up.

The sanctum is gone, except for a burned-out shell. The portal machine is gone. The records of her experiments with Hordak are gone. The filing cabinet where he secretly kept all of Imp’s crayon drawings, meticulously ordered by date, is gone. An uncomfortable plastic chair, unused, sits untouched in the corner.

It is sometimes ridiculous, the things that survive.

Something clinks at her feet in the ruins. She kneels down to look and finds a purple shard, glinting in the ashes. It is familiar to her. She wipes off the grime and looks at the First Ones writing she’d etched into its surface herself, going by incomplete notes and a sizable amount of guesswork for how ancient civilizations handled spelling.

He had loved it. Her. She knows this. Now it is one more thing lost in the fire.

Entrapta is a genius, but it doesn’t take a genius to put all the available clues together. Between her last memories of the Fright Zone and the updates on the war effort Bow has been giving her, she’s starting to get a pretty clear picture of how she got sent to Beast Island, and why it took so long for anybody else to come. File that under “things to process later.”

Right now, she has work to do.

Bow finds her as she heaves wreckage aside with her hair, looking for anything that isn’t completely destroyed. He notices the wet lines on her face before she does.

“He didn’t want to go with them,” Entrapta is mumbling. “He can’t have. Not after we…” Her shoulders shake. “Oh, why did they have to come now?”

“Who are ‘they’?” Bow asks, even though he thinks he’s starting to get a pretty good idea.

Entrapta looks around. “Hordak’s people. He said they’d come once the portal was open. But… I’m not sure if he wanted them to, at the end. Things just got so confusing, and then…”

Bow has his thinking face on. In his mind, puzzle pieces that seemed completely unrelated before are finally falling together: Entrapta’s reluctance to return to the Rebellion. The new tech she’d built for the Horde. How she’d suddenly moved all her stuff there…

Oh. Oh, no. Bow desperately wishes he could judge her for feeling that way about a war criminal, but right now, right at this moment, he knows he really isn’t one to talk.

“Look, I… I think I get it,” Bow says. “Or I’m starting to. But I don’t know if the others will, just yet. You can talk about it with me, but don’t tell anyone else. Okay?”

Entrapta’s face is miserable.

Bow desperately tries to think of something that will help. “Or… or maybe you can talk about it with the others if you need to. Just, instead of ‘Hordak,’ say, I don’t know…” he casts his eyes desperately upward “...’Space’?”

“But I do love space,” Entrapta sniffles.

“Exactly! So you won’t even be lying. Technically.”

Entrapta tries it out. “I love… space.” She blinks, and brightens, a little. “Space… is beautiful. I like thinking about space. And learning about space. And talking to space, and the way space’s ears move when he…” she trails off.

“We’ll work on it,” Bow smiles. “Together. We’re going to get them back.”

Entrapta takes a deep breath and nods. “You’re right. Let’s get to work!” She pulls her welding mask down and scuttles away into the ruins, hair stretching in every direction, searching for anything useful.

And when she is completely out of earshot, she makes a little vow, just for herself: “I’m going to space,” she declares, looking up at the stars. “And I’m going to fight for space. And then… I’m going to take space back.”

If, light years away, Horde Prime suddenly feels the tiniest shiver in his ancient bones, he thinks little of it. He sees all. He knows all. There is nothing in his empire that can harm him.

There is only space.

#fan fiction #she ra fanfiction #entrapta #bow #entrapdak #glimbow

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genesisinferno · 3 years ago

Text

This was meant to be a future chapter for "Follow His Footsteps" but the scene wouldn't leave my brain so now you guys can have it and I can finally get it out of my head. I'll probably have to something a little differently for this planned scene, rip.

////

"Just this once," Cross said. He wouldn't do this again. He wouldn't let his guard down again - he couldn't. If only for himself, he couldn't afford to let his guard down more than once. He had to stay on track, he had to stay focused, he had to be cold and distant at all times...

But just this once. Just this one time, he could afford to let his guard down, right?

"Just this once," Killer agreed with a nod, something almost sly in his empty gaze. They both knew he didn't truly believe that and was just going along with it - he had every intention to get Cross to drop his guard again, regardless if Cross wanted to or not. Cross should care, he should withdraw or be annoyed. He should keep his guard up. But he was tired. So, so very tired. So, this time, only this time, he would let it go. But he would never do it again, no matter how much it hurt or how much it killed him inside. Just this once.

Cross stares at Killer for a moment, cautiously. A part of him still didn't want to let go - he had built this mask up for so long and he'd forgotten what he was like underneath. It almost scared him, not knowing who he was anymore. He'd been a different person in X-Tales and had worn a mask ever since he'd destroyed his home. To let go now, even if only for a short while, was terrifying. It was a vulnerability he hadn't allowed himself in so long. He could still put his mask back on after this, right? He could still pretend, right? Killer wouldn't... try to draw him out again, right? (He knows he would.)

Something in Cross snaps, strained and tired from the pressure of holding himself together for so long now, and that's all it takes. He ducks his skull, wrapping his arms around Killer in a loose hug. Cross drops his skull onto Killer's chest, his arms tightening until he's almost crushing Killer in his grasp. Killer, for once in his life, is silent as he wraps his own arms around Cross, returning the hug. Unlike Cross, Killer doesn't hesitate in holding him tightly, as if he's afraid that if he doesn't, Cross will run from him again. Something about the action, something about the unspoken intentions and feelings that lay underneath causes Cross to shake. He has to physically restrain himself from crying. He knows what he is and he knows what he does. Not just to Killer, but to the Dust and Horror too. Even to Nightmare and Error. He knows how he worries them, how he brushes off their concern so easily that it makes them frustrated to the point they feel angry and helpless. How they look out for him all the time and just want him to let them in - something Cross can't afford to do. Something Cross is too scared to allow, in his current situation. Because letting them in means getting more attached, means putting them in even more pain when he leaves. It means it'll hurt them further.

Just like Killer is hurt now, because of him. Cross hates the feeling of helplessness he feels, the frustration at not being able to help further, the guilt and the pain, and the worry and fear of losing Killer. He hates how he knows that they feel like this about him on a daily basis. But like he's done for so long, he doesn't allow himself to lament on his own mistakes or shortcomings - instead lashing out at the one before him.

"Dammit, Killer! You almost died, you idiot!" Cross snaps, glaring at the injured skeleton with unshed tears in his sockets. For a second, Killer seems almost surprised but then his signature grin stretches over his skull.

"Yeh, but I didn't," Killer states it like it's some obvious fact he's proud of, when he should be more concerned with the fact that he nearly died and still isn't completely in the clear yet. Until they find a way back to the castle, Killer's still very much at risk. Especially since Cross' makeshift first aid wouldn't do much more than support Killer's injuries until they could get proper help.

"That doesn't make it any better," Cross whines, almost childishly. Oddly enough, Killer's casualness helps to keep the tears at bay. If he can still do that much, then it's possible it's not affecting him as much as Cross had originally feared. It's something he has to chance to bounce back from like usual.

"Sure it does," Killer chirps and looks at him teasingly. "Ya worried anyway?" The question takes Cross aback, because of course he is. It had been his fault Killer was injured to begin with. He got hurt protecting Cross while he was stupidly distracted by something or the other. Despite how much Cross tried to deny it, tried to refuse the feelings, he cared about Killer - about all of the bad Sanses, even though he couldn't afford to. He's discovered he's absolutely terrible at remaining detached when put in front of skeletons hellbent on caring for him - even though he didn't need the care or the worry.

"I... of course I am. You... you're hurt and it's my fault. You could have died and it would have been my fault," Cross mumbled sadly, the tears finally spilling out of his sockets. They dropped down onto Killer's shirt, soaked up by the fabric.

"Hey. Hey. Don't say shit like that, makes you seem like you really care underneath all that bravado," Killer chuckled. Cross gripped him tighter for a second, remembering himself. Killer was right. Even if Cross decided to let his guard down for a bit, he still shouldn't say stuff like that. He couldn't take it back. Killer seemed to notice the change, quickly speaking up again.

"In all seriousness... don't worry 'bout it. I ain't going anywhere. Think you can get rid of me that easily?" Killer seemed amused by the thought that anyone could even consider the thought of it. As if he were immortal. He wasn't. He was strong but even he could die. Not to say that it was easy to kill him - Killer was like a parasite with a grudge, hellbent on taking everyone down with him.

"No..." Cross sighed and Killer's smug grin sharpened. Cross just sighed, burying his skull in Killer's chest and simply soaking in the fact that Killer was alive and allowing himself to be relieved at the fact instead of pushing it away. He'd gotten him out in time. He'd been there. They've avoided the worst case scenario. Killer was alive and they still had a chance out of this.

"...do you want me gone?" Killer's voice is quiet, far quieter he's ever heard it, and Cross can just barely pick up on the insecurity hidden within it. His skull snaps up, more from the tone than the actual question itself. Killer is supposed to be annoyingly confident, not sad or insecure.

"No!" Cross denies immediately, surprised and more than willing to fight Killer on this if he has to. There's the slightest shift to Killer's expression and a tenseness to his body that Cross isn't familiar with. To his surprise, at his words, Killer's expression returns to normal and he relaxes slightly, pulling Cross closer to him minutely.

"Then it's all good, yeh? Besides, I'm getting a voluntary hug from the solitary soldier himself, so it wasn't all for nothing. Heh," Killer chuckles, and Cross glares at him for it. He has half a mind to ignore Killer entirely. His inability to shut up ruins everything.

But then the smile drops off Killer's face again and Cross finds himself unable to keep the glare up, instead watching Killer in concern.

"Just this once... tell me something, Criss-Cross," Killer's voice is quiet and soft that it doesn't even sound like his voice anymore. Cross isn't used to this vulnerability and it's beginning to send him into a panic. He doesn't know how to deal with stuff like this anymore. He hasn't dealt with stuff like this - even for himself, that he doesn't know what to do. "Do ya care at all? Would you... be better off without me?"

Everything about that question was wrong, especially coming from Killer. From secure, overconfident, stupid Killer. And it hurt. Crap, it hurts and this is exactly what Cross was trying to avoid. He didn't want to hurt and he certainly didn't want any of the Bad Sans to hurt because of him. Apparently, he'd failed both points, because Cross cared so damn much that it hurts. He didn't want to lose Killer. He couldn't stand the thought of it, let alone bear the pain that would come from it. He'd lose whatever sanity he had left if he lost one of them, he just didn't want to admit it. That is, he didn't want to admit until Killer asked. Because now Cross was willing to, if it meant that Killer would just stay.

"I don't wanna lose you. So don't go, Killer," The tears spilled out of his sockets, as he whispered, "You've gotta... You've gotta stay with me, okay? D-don't leave me." Killer held him tighter, as if afraid to let him go and Cross clutched onto him for dear life, afraid to ever leave this moment.

///

I don't own any characters. This is meant purely platonically but I guess you can see it as Kross if you want to. But yeah, this is meant to be brotherly, with Cross being super afraid to open up and finally taking one of the first steps to. I wrote this instead of writing the next chapter but since this isn't a major delay, I think I can get away with it.

#killertale sans #cross sans #X tales #bad sanses #if you squint you can view it as cross #future chapter rip me #platonic #brotherly love here #hi if you're reading tags #are tumbler tags like ao3 tags?#because I have every intention to have fun with it if so #cross #killer #bonding #if you squint you can view it as Kross #xtale sans

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anotherfacelessauthor · 4 years ago

Text

Scenes from October 31st through November 2nd, 1981

James was watching television—some old movie he wasn’t really following—when it happened. He had just been playing with his son, making multicolored smoke bubbles appear out of his wand and chuckling as Harry delightedly tried to catch them, when his wife had announced that it was well past both of their bedtimes. He supposed she was right as he yawned and stretched, discarding his wand on the sofa beside him.

Lily was upstairs in the laundry room, just beginning to fold a few of Harry’s footies after putting him down in his crib. The house in Godric's Hollow was small enough that she could still hear the dialogue of the movie if she listened intently enough. Lily smiled as she recognised it: Meet Me in St. Louis. It had been her mother’s favorite. She fondly recalled watching the film together, curling up under one big blanket and munching on popcorn, singing along to all the songs.

Something caught her eye outside, moments before it happened. A small group of young children parading down the street in pumpkin costumes, their pillow cases dragging on the street behind them, closely followed by two couples. The parents were chatting, saying something Lily couldn’t hear through the glass and layers of protection spells. The children were dancing about, throwing empty candy wrappers on the pavement with reckless abandon. Lily allowed herself to daydream about what Harry’s first Halloween costume would be, once she and James were finally allowed out of the house again. She imagined her son, laughing and feasting with the other children, adorable face sticking through a silly penguin suit.

One of the mothers, a tall, thin woman in a pointy black witches hat, bent down to pick up the littered wrappers, and then it happened.

The pram, still kept hopefully by the door, was tossed aside as Voldemort entered the Potter’s safehouse with a thunderous clatter.

“Lily!” James cried, voice straining in the effort to make sure she heard him. In an instant she knew something was wrong. “Take Harry and go! It’s him!” Her heart rate accelerated, pounding in her ears as she immediately dropped the laundry, springing to action. “Go! Run! I’ll hold him off!”

His words seemed to echo throughout the small house. Every nerve in her body set aflame with adrenaline as Lily rushed into the nursery. Then she heard the terrible curse, the words confirming her worst nightmares, “ Avada Kedavra! ”

The faint thud that followed was barely registered by Lily’s senses as a blood-curdling shriek escaped her throat, pouring her soul out into the cold, still night. It only then occurred to her that she was wandless. Trapped, stuck on the top floor with no way out. No escape.

She shoved a chair under the door handle, a desperate last attempt to barricade herself in, and pressed a final kiss to her son’s forehead. “I love you sweetheart,” she whispered.

Voldemort cast the furniture aside effortlessly and entered the room.

Lily had seen him before, face to face. After all, he had thrice asked her personally to join his legion of Death Eaters. She had always refused. Holding fast to that same determination, Lily swallowed, dropping Harry in his crib and throwing her arms wide to shield him. She was not scared. No harm would come to her son. Of this, she was certain.

“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!” She knew he would not listen. The words were a last instinct, more for herself than the foul murderer who stood in front of her, draped in a dark cloak, wand outstretched.

“Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside now.” He commanded her with force in his tone. Lily recognized the familiar sensation of the Imperious curse and fought against it.

“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—” She would do anything, anything to protect her son.

“This is my last warning—” His voice was cold, cruel, and calculating.

“Not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy… Not Harry! Not Harry!” she repeated the words over and over again as if saying them one more time was the key to changing the course of time. “Please—I’ll do anything—”

“Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!”

In the fleeting moments that followed, Harry Potter became the Boy who Lived.

***

It was in some of the final moments of October 31st, 1981 that Hagrid arrived at the decimated house in Godric's Hollow. He’d gotten his orders from Dumbledore the moment the fated curse had rebounded, thanks to a number of surveillance spells, which rang sharp and loud like sirens throughout the Headmaster’s study that night. Hagrid had heard them, even from far off in his hut on the grounds. His blood had turned cold.

The instinct to collapse on the pavement at the sight very nearly overwhelmed him. James and Lily. But above all the devastation he could hear the baby’s cries and he remembered just why he had come.

He dug through the ruins, trying and failing to bite back tears in the chill of the late October night. Just as he found Harry, the tiny infant with a new lightning scar cut jagged across his small forehead, wriggling around and sobbing, a faint rumbling came from down the street. No—from above.

Sirius Black descended upon the scene carefully, landing his magical motorcycle on the street just outside what had been the Potter’s front gate. He was shaking slightly and out of breath, his famously sleek hair now messy and knotted from the wind, his cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink from the chill.

“No!” The shout tore through the too-still air like a shotgun blast. Sirius discarded his bike, letting it fall to the pavement carelessly. He climbed through the wreckage, falling to his knees when he discovered James’ limp body, collapsed over the stairs. His glasses were askew across his face and his mouth was open, gaping lifelessly.

“Where is he…” Sirius muttered to himself. “That son of a bitch where is he—I’ll kill him myself—”

“Hol’ on there Sirius,” Hagrid placed a heavy hand on his shoulder as the tears began to flow. Sirius couldn’t bear it, the tidal waves of emotion, crashing into his body and drawing him under one by one. “It’s a tragedy, but we can’t go doin’ anything reckless, now. It’s not what they would’a wanted.”

Sirius looked up, blinking away the unrelenting stream of sadness pouring down his face. His eyes locked on the baby.

Harry.

His godson.

Harry had fallen back asleep, settled by the soothing rocking and warmth of Hagrid’s arms. He looked so peaceful, so serene, so unaware of the horrors that surrounded him. It broke Sirius’ heart.

“I’ll take him.” His voice broke and he coughed, clearing his throat. “Harry. He’s my godson after all. It’s my responsibility to make sure he’s okay.”

Hagrid looked down on him with an expression of pity. “Oh… I got strict orders from Dumbledore ‘imself. Gonna bring ‘Arry ‘ere to his aunt and uncle in Little Whinging.”

The information washed over Sirius. He swallowed. “Okay,” he agreed hesitantly. Who was he to be a father? He was young, he was reckless, he—“Dumbledore’s usually right in these instances.” His eyes flashed over to the street. He straightened up. “Take my bike.”

Hagrid paused in his rocking of Harry for a moment, shocked. “You sure ‘bout that? Ya love that thing.”

Sirius nodded. He had never been more sure of anything else in his life. “I won’t be needing it, and it’ll get you there quickly. Probably a day, day and a half trip but it’s faster than any Muggle transportation.” He eyed the pink umbrella by Hagrid’s side, “And safer than any experimental magic.”

Hagrid’s cheeks turned a tinge pink. “Right, yer right o’course.”

Sirius helped him get settled, tucking Harry in with a final, tight hug. “I’ll come to visit, all the time,” he promised, pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple, where the lightning scar graced his soft skin. He watched as the pair drove away into the night, keeping his eyes steady on the headlights until they faded in with the blackness and the stars.

He arranged the bodies of his best friends carefully, placing them together, side by side. He closed their eyes and lay their hands on top of one another. If it weren’t for the devastation surrounding them, the fading Dark Mark illuminating the sky, he could’ve convinced himself they had simply fallen asleep.

As muggle sirens wailed in the distance, red and white flashing lights turning just around the corner, Sirius Black disapparated.

***

November 1st, 1981

Sirius Black appeared on the streets of London just as the sun was rising over the tall buildings. He was raving, blistering rage driving him to mutter to himself nonstop “I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna kill him.”

And that was the extent of his plan.

He was going to trace down Peter Pettigrew, the murderer, the spy , and kill him, if it was the last thing Sirius ever did.

Peter found him first.

Sirius was stalking the streets around Peter’s flat, desperately thinking of a way to find him. Workers had only just started their days, but Sirius had been up all night. The bags under his eyes were dark and heavy, and the grief had set on his face. If any of his friends could have seen him, they would have said he’d aged a decade overnight.

Peter very nearly didn’t recognise him, but he saw the wand hanging by his side, gripped with tight, white knuckles. He knew what he had to do.

“Sirius,” Peter cried, putting on a mask of grief and desperation, “how could you?”

Sirius growled as he turned around. He wanted to tear Wormtail limb from limb, chop off his fingers one by one, anything to make him feel the excruciating pain that he’d forced on Sirius. Feel the weight of his actions, feel the death he had caused.

“We were your friends, Sirius!” Peter let his voice raise higher, attracting the attention of the people passing by. Commuters stopped in their walking, exchanging confused and worried glances, a few eyeing the phone booth on the corner.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sirius grumbled, confused but no less angry.

“James and Lily—”

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK THEIR NAMES!” Sirius couldn’t wait another moment longer. He lunged, pointing his wand forward, but an explosion drew him back. He covered his eyes instinctively as the dust and rubble blew into his face.

He lowered his arm just in time to see a rat scuttering down the drainpipe into the sewers.

And Sirius Black laughed.

He threw his head back as maniacal, uncontrollable laughter overtook his senses. There was nothing more he could do.

The street was in full panic now; a dozen or so muggle bodies lay across the street, heads cracked on the pavement, oozing blood. Sirens sounded, but they were far off. The Aurors apparated in with a crack .

Sirius Black was still laughing hysterically as they took his arms and roughly dragged him off, all the way to Azkaban.

There was no trial.

***

Remus had thought he’d known pain. He’d broken virtually every bone in his body—twice—from his smallest finger to his spine and skull. He’d woken up with gruesome wounds, scarred skin torn and still gushing blood. He’d dislocated and contorted his joints and was plagued by never ending aches now that he was older. His knee, his hip, his shoulder. He’d experienced the agony of his entire body stretching and extending unnaturally once a month for nearly all his life. He’d taken curse after Unforgivable curse from Death Eaters and still stood to tell the tale. He’d felt everything from the dull throbbing of a sprained ankle to the all-over torture of being bitten by a werewolf. He’d even dealt with heartbreak—earth-shattering anger and gut-wrenching confusion and pure pure sadness.

None of it even remotely compared to how he felt when he heard the news.

Dumbledore had sent a patronus.

James and Lily. Dead.

Peter. Dead.

Sirius. The love of his life. His fiance. A murderer. The spy.

And Remus was left all alone.

He threw up.

Just as he was starting to come to, gasping for air, hunched over the toilet lid, arms shaking with the effort to keep himself up, face splayed with hot, salty tears, thoughts frantically drowning in his mind, he remembered the baby.

Harry .

His stomach twisted. He retched again.

***

November 2nd, 1981

Molly Weasley didn’t know what to think when a sudden knock came at her door in the earliest hours of November 2nd, 1981. The knock itself shook the Burrow, jolting her awake from the half-sleep she’d been catching in the old armchair sat in the corner of Ginny and Ron’s nursery. She’d checked that the babies were still sleeping and rushed down the stairs at once.

When she swung open the door, her heart dropped.

“Hagrid,” she gasped, beckoning him in “Oh, come in. What brings you here at this time of night?” Her pulse raced, silently

He was standing beside Sirius Black’s bike, Molly recognized it from all the times her husband had asked to take a poke around. His bushy hair hung over his eyes and his shoulders were shaking. “I’s… jus’ terrible. I got ‘im and ‘e started cryin’ an’ I’m okay wi’ kids but…” Hagrid blubbered on, tears streaming down his face. He interrupted himself to blow his nose as Molly struggled to follow his story.

“Hagrid, how about I make you a spot of tea and we can—” then she spotted him.

Harry. The Potter’s son.

He was bundled in a small cloth that had come loose and unraveled on the flight over. His mouth was open wide and it was only once Hagrid’s voice died down that Molly heard that he was, indeed, crying.

She reached down immediately and wrapped the baby in her arms, soothing him, even as her own stomach dropped. Hagrid wouldn’t have the Potter’s child unless…

Her husband came down the stairs at that point, still in his nightclothes. “Molly, what’s the matter—” his eyes landed on Hagrid, who’d settled himself down on their couch, which creaked and bent worryingly under his weight. He raised his wand. “Have you asked the questions?”

Molly snapped, “Oh, Arthur, is that really necessary—”

“No, no, it’s right,” Hagrid said, still sniffling. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and nodded. “Go on Arthur.”

Mr. Weasley glanced between his wife and the half-giant sitting in his living room. “What did Molly and I serve after dinner last time we hosted the Order?” he asked, voice strong, still unsure of the situation.

“Treacle pudding, an’ a mighty fine one if I do say so m’self,” Hagrid chuckled sadly.

Arthur lowered his wand. “Sorry, Hagrid. You understand, don’t you?”

Hagrid bowed his head. It was only then that Arthur caught sight of the baby in his wife’s hands. It didn’t have the telltale ginger hair of a Weasley. “Molly…”

She looked up and her face was streaked with silent tears. “It’s Harry.” She couldn’t say any more.

Hagrid filled in what he knew, though there wasn’t much. He spared them the details of the broken house, the strewn bodies, the Dark Mark radiating menacingly above them. Even still, the knowledge was haunting.

The Potters. Gone.

None of the three of them slept that night. Molly made a cup of tea—she’d offered a warm meal but none of them had much of an appetite—and they talked themselves silly, sitting in the living room, reliving their best memories of the young couple. When the eldest Weasleys thundered down the stairs early that morning, they found their parents with heavy bags beneath their eyes, cheeks still stained with the dried reminders of their grief.

Harry, who’d fallen asleep shortly after being placed in Mrs. Weasley’s arms, awoke with a bit of a startled gurgle. Seeing him awake made Hagrid remember his responsibilities. He cleared his throat and placed his hands on his thighs, beginning to stand, “Well, I bes’ be off. Got a long journey ahead of us, don’t we ‘Arry?”

“Oh Hagrid, don’t be silly,” Molly retorted. “You’ll fall out of the air in your current state!” She gave him the friendliest smile she could manage, “Take a rest. You can sleep in the guest room—at least a few hours. I insist.”

When Hagrid came down a short while later, feeling slightly refreshed, if not exactly well rested, he shook Mrs. Weasley’s hand. “Can’t thank you enough, Molly.” She wrapped him in a tight embrace and just stood there, breathing in the hug for a moment. It was moments like these, in between all the death and destruction and despair, that she wanted to cherish.

***

read the whole fic on ao3

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jjungkookislife · 5 years ago

Text

Wait Until I’m Back

ღ first post of my reject list. This means this will not be continued and was essentially a part 2 to I Don’t Wanna Waste This Moment

pairing: namjoon x gender neutral reader

genre: angst, fluff?

wc: 3k

title credit: this song

warnings: cursing, namjoon is angry for most of this, Jin gives some bad love advice, they/them pronouns

date: April 7, 2020

Namjoon fought against the youngest member but it was no use. Jungkook’s hold on him wasn’t going to ease up until he shoved Namjoon into his seat. Namjoon stood, only to be pushed back into his seat by Jungkook, who pulled his face mask down to fully look at his leader. “We don’t have time for your unrequited love, hyung.”

“It’s not unrequited, they just said so! I need to get off and tell them I love 'em!” Namjoon is growing hysterical as he struggles against Jungkook while the other members look on with bemused expressions.

“Jungkook, what’s going on?” Taehyung is the first to speak, the others leaning over his shoulder to see Namjoon trying to fight off the maknae.

“Namjoon is trying to get off the plane,” Jungkook explains curtly, his fierce eyes not leaving his leader’s.

“Are you sick?” Jimin’s worried voice speaks up as he tries to analyze the situation.

“He’s not sick, he’s trying to get back to Y/n,” his eyes move upward to meet Jimin’s, who quirks his head to the side in confusion.

“Are they sick?” Jin asks as he takes a step forward to inspect the situation further. By now Namjoon has stopped trying to get out of Jungkook’s iron-clad hold, breathing heavily for his efforts.

“They’re in love with me,” Namjoon murmurs, his thoughts reeling in his head as you appear in his mind looking utterly heartbroken at his lack of response.

“Isn’t that a good thing? You’ve loved them for years,” Yoongi finally speaks up as he takes a seat across from Namjoon.

“I didn’t have time to say anything before Jungkook dragged me away,” Namjoon huffs in anger and annoyance as he pushes his hand to push Jungkook away from him as the flight attendant appears to inform them of their impending departure once they are all seated.

“You can tell them when we get back,” Jin states firmly as he sits beside Namjoon, making Jungkook move to the back.

“In three months?!” Namjoon screeches, his head falling into the palms of his hands before he harshly tugs at his hair, making Jin grip his hands tightly to hold them in his lap.

“Stop! You’re acting like a child, Namjoon. Y/n wouldn’t want you behaving like this,” Jin scolds him, making him roll his eyes before ripping his hands out of his hold to cross over his chest with his hands tucked under his arms to keep him from pulling at his hair in frustration.

“I’ve waited so long for this. How can I just leave when they finally tell me they love me? They probably think I don’t reciprocate their feelings.” Namjoon is stressing out again, his leg fidgeting as the boys talk quietly behind them.

“Text ‘em,” Hoseok suggests from his seat as the flight attendant walks by to make sure everyone has their seatbelts on.

“This isn’t something you text.” Namjoon shakes his head as he sighs heavily. What if this had been his only chance? What if by the time he came back, you’d be over him? What would he do then?

“What if it’s too late when I get back?” Namjoon airs his worries out loud, Jimin shaking his head as he looks at Taehyung for answers, but the younger doesn’t know what to do in this situation either.

“They’ve probably loved you for years. Another tour will not change their feelings about you? If their feelings are genuine for you, they’ll be there when you get back. They’re aware of what your job is, this isn’t for the faint of heart. Why do you think none of us get involved with anyone? It is what it is,” Jimin tries to come off sympathetic, but by the look on Namjoon’s face, he knows he’s missed the mark.

“Why now?” Namjoon groans out in frustration, blinking back tears he refuses to shed. Jin gives his shoulder a squeeze before turning his attention to the window as the jet begins to move slowly, making the flight attendant go over the safety information, despite them hearing it every single time they fly.

Namjoon tries his best to keep himself occupied, not wanting to let his thoughts drift off to you because he knows his heart will clench in pain at having not confessed. He wondered if you felt as dejected as he did, perhaps worse? He hoped you weren’t sitting in your room crying, wondering why he didn’t love you back when all he wanted to do was run back to you and kiss you. Years, years, he had waited for this moment. Imagined it hundreds of times, but his fear always held him back. ‘Don’t ruin the friendship’ he would tell himself every time you were wrapped up in his arms

Every time he had to leave, it got harder; his need to stay with you growing each and every day; every departure tore him apart inside. He couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t keep leaving you, but what other choice did he have? Despite wanting to build a life with you, he couldn’t give up the one he had because it wasn’t just his life he had to consider, it was the lives of the other six men sitting around him; his family.

An angry huff escaped his lips as he tries not to draw too much attention to himself. But the others can sense the tension in the jet, their eyes roaming to glance at him before returning to their activities. The air is thick with tension, everyone too scared to speak above a whisper as to not upset their leader, but what else are they to do to keep occupied? Unlike Namjoon, the rest of them had actually gotten some sleep, so they didn’t want to sleep anymore. There was nothing left to do until Namjoon finally fell asleep, giving the opportunity to relax slightly before landing in Osaka.

The moment the jet landed, Namjoon was awake as he made sure he had his belongings so he could sprint off the jet towards the cars. He was eager to get to his hotel room in hopes of video chatting with you, but he knew that there was a small possibility that you wouldn’t want to speak with him, not after he left you without a response.

Namjoon tried to be patient, but as the minutes ticked on, his patience began to wear thin as he huffed and grumbled until he was finally allowed off. He walked past everyone, not caring to slow down and wait for his members as his security team greeted him at the gate. He adjusted his face mask before walking with his head down and his sunglasses resting on his nose. He didn’t feel like greeting the paparazzi as he normally would, so he just walked on by without giving them as much of a glance or a wave. Later on he would feel guilty about being rude, but right now all that mattered was you.

The moment he sat in the SUV, his knee bounced up and down in anticipation. He would have to wait for another member or two to join him before they could take off. All he wanted to do was go, his anger boiling through his veins as he waited and waited. His phone was in his hand, his fingers hovering over the screen as he bit his lip, deep in thought. What could he possibly say to you? How could he confess over text where you couldn’t hear the sincerity in his voice? This wasn’t how he imagined he would admit his feelings for you. This wasn’t romantic in the slightest. Had he known, he would have made some grand gesture for you, but he knew you would have been just as happy with a simple date, like your bike rides by the Han River.

“Fuck!” he cursed, agitated with everything and everyone, his members delaying their arrival because none of them wanted to be cooped up with him in a tighter space than the plane. Namjoon was a force to be reckoned with, besides Jimin, when he was angry. It took a few more long minutes before the door opened and Jin popped in.

Namjoon blinked once as the door shut before he asked, “is it just us? Can we go now?”

“Yes, everyone else is getting into the other cars. We’ll be leaving in a moment,” Jin replied as he put his seatbelt on and tried to keep his gaze forward, but he could feel the heat of his leader’s anger radiating off him. The tight space felt tense, making it hard to breathe as the door opened and the driver got in before a security guard climbed into the passenger seat. Namjoon felt slightly at ease when the car started and began its route to the hotel.

The moment Namjoon got to the hotel, he pushed past Jin to get out of the car, startling everyone in the SUV. The security guard rushed after him, making sure he was safe as he led him inside and to the elevator. Namjoon was fuming. His anger hadn’t dissipated in the slightest as he watched the floors ascend on the elevator until it finally came to a stop. His security guard stopped him from exiting the elevator, an angry huff escaping him as he waited for the guard to give him the all-clear to enter the hallway. Namjoon held his room key in his hand, following the guard as they walked down the hall, stopping in front of his room. He handed his card over to the guard, who took him and asked him to wait while he did one last sweep of the room to ensure it was safe before allowing him inside moments after.

Namjoon slammed the door, throwing his bag on the bed as he checked his phone once again to see if you had responded to any of his messages or phone calls, but all he had was texts from the other members asking if he was okay. He ignores the messages, calling you one more time as he takes his laptop out of his bag, starting it up and hoping he’ll have better luck if he tries reaching you with both electronics.

He knows he only has until after lunch to reach you before he has to go to rehearsal and he’s desperate to talk to you before then, otherwise he’ll be unable to focus. At least, the concert isn’t until tomorrow night, but he needs to make some headway in this before then.

Your phone goes straight to voicemail once again, making him groan as he lays in his bed. A tentative knock on his door has him sitting up, getting out of bed to see who it is, he’s not surprised to see Jimin standing there with a sheepish smile.

“I was wondering if we could have lunch together so we could talk,” he mumbles as he looks at his leader. Namjoon sighs, running his hand through his hair before stepping to the side to allow Jimin in.

“Just order whatever, I’m still trying to reach, Y/n.”

“Still no luck?” Jimin asks as he takes a seat at the desk, turning the chair to face Namjoon, who shakes his head.

“Do you want me to try?” Jimin offers as he takes his phone out of his pocket.

“Yeah, maybe they’ll answer you,” Namjoon says hopefully, biting his lower lip as Jimin presses call on your name, placing it on speaker as it rings once but goes to voicemail.

“Hey, Y/n. It’s Jimin. I just wanted to check in to make sure everything is okay. Call me back,” Jimin hangs up, looking at Namjoon with an apologetic smile as he sets his phone on the desk.

“Thanks, Jimin. Hopefully, they will call back soon or after soundcheck,” Namjoon sighs as he sits on the bed, allowing Jimin to order lunch for the two of them.

You watch the phone ring in your hand, hitting ignore as you climb into the SUV, clutching your bag tightly as you get comfortable and put your seatbelt on. Your door is closed and you look straight ahead, nerves pooling in your stomach as you look out of the window, watching the buildings go by. You know you should have answered Namjoon’s call or even Jimin’s but it didn’t matter at all now because thanks to Jungkook, you’d be in their hotel in a few minutes.

You weren’t sure what Jungkook needed from you that had you urgently get on a flight to Osaka, but the way he sounded so desperate, begging and pleading for you to come to see him had you wondering if something was wrong, perhaps with Namjoon?

You didn’t want to face Namjoon, not after what happened earlier in the day and to be frank, you weren’t too thrilled to see Jungkook either, but what could you do, you were here now.

“Your bags will be taken to your room.” You nod at the security guard as you’re led inside the hotel and to the elevator, a room key in the guard’s hand as the elevator shuts. You’re thrumming with apprehension, biting your lip as you arrive on your floor, the staff giving you perplexed looks before your situation is explained and you’re handed an ID badge before being escorted to your room.

You set your bag down, a knock on your door seconds later. You open the door, seeing a bashful-looking Jungkook.

“Hey,” you greet him, allowing him into your room before shutting the door.

“Hey, I’m glad you made it here safely.”

“Yeah, me too. Are you going to tell me why I had to rush here? I don’t exactly want to look at you or anyone else for that matter,” you admit angrily, making Jungkook recoil as he steps back.

“You, you just need to be. I’ll explain later, but talk to Namjoon, please. I have to go but please answer Namjoon’s phone calls,” Jungkook insists as he rushes out of your room. You roll your eyes as you take your phone out to see a few more missed calls. You know he’ll be heading out for the rest of the afternoon, so you decide it’s best for you to wait until Jungkook lets you know that they’re back.

You take a shower, order lunch, unpack a bit and think about what you’re going to tell Namjoon when you finally speak to him after you blatantly ignored him the entire day.

Hours later, your phone rings, wakes you up. You grumble, reaching out to get it just as it stops ringing. You look at your ringing phone again and sit on the floor against the wall, not wanting to show that you’re at the hotel as you inhale deeply before answering the call.

“Y/n!” Namjoon shouts, surprised you’ve actually answered his call.

“Hey,” you murmur with a slight wave.

“Hey,” he responds, cheeks tinted pink as he gulps. He didn’t think about what he would say once he got a hold of you.

“I’m sorry about leaving earlier, I didn’t even get to say anything.”

“Forget about it, Joonie.”

“No, I don’t want to forget about it, Y/n,” his voice is firm, his gaze smoldering as he looks at you through the screen.

“Joon, I shouldn’t have said anything. You don’t feel the same and…”

“How do you know I don’t feel the same? Did you hear me say that? No, you didn’t,” Namjoon scoffs, but you sigh.

“Hold on, Joonie,” You say as you turn the camera off, rising from the floor as Namjoon asks if you’re still there.

Namjoon wonders what you’re doing, hearing rustling before the sound disappears altogether for a moment. Perplexed, he scrunches his brows as he sees the time still ticking before the sound comes back.

“Sorry,” you apologize, but don’t turn the camera on.

“Is everything okay?” Namjoon asks, worried as he wonders what you could be doing. Before you can respond, there’s a knock on Namjoon’s door. “Hold up, I gotta get the door. Don’t hang up!”

Namjoon opens the door, ready to tell whoever it is to fuck off, only to be shocked to see you standing in front of him with your phone in your hand, hanging up the call.

“Joonie,” you say before you’re scooped up in his arms, hugged tightly, the guards on the floor peek at you before returning to their duty as Namjoon pulls you into his room, shutting the door.

“What are you doing here?”

“Jungkook insisted I come,” you state as Namjoon releases you to look at you, wondering if he’s imagining you in front of him. You cross one arm over the other, feeling awkward as you look down at your feet, biting your lip.

“Of course, I’m glad you’re here! Really! I didn’t want to tell you how I felt over a text or a screen. Y/n, I know you’re probably upset and you have every right to be but I didn’t want to leave you and I tried to get back to you but I couldn’t. I love you too, so much. I know I should have said something sooner, but I just couldn’t find the words and I still can’t. I know my career is something that will keep us apart, and I don’t blame you if you don’t want to be with me because of it but if you do, if you do want to be with me despite it all, I promise to do whatever it takes to make us work.”

You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, sniffling as Namjoon walks closer to you, hugging you. He kisses your forehead, holding you tight as he feels your arms wrap around him.

#bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #btswritersnet #namjoon x reader insert #namjoon x you #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst and fluff #namjoon!idol au

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locria-writes · 5 years ago

Text

do i have a clever title? no. am i ashamed of this? for a while, yes, but i’ve grown past this and discovered worse kinks (〃‿〃✿)

Today, he’ll finally ruin you.

Valentin had meticulously arranged for the whole night, having blackmailed the host into accepting his demands. He made sure that you would be seated next to him for dinner. For the entirety of the meal, he hiked up your skirts, letting his fingers draw patterns on your knee, then your thigh, until he finally slipped a finger into you.

He must commend you for your masterful composure, expression barely flinching as his thumb rubbed your sensitive bud. Perhaps this is what separates your ilk from the rest, but he knows that’s not true. A lesser woman would have crumbled immediately.

So, now he pulls you into a room after dinner, one that the host prepared for him as specified. He leans against the door, a not-so-subtle sign that you will not flee from him.

“I’m quite impressed with you.”

“I’m rather flattered.” Your lips quirk to a practiced smile. “Could you please explain what you need? My father might be looking for me.”

“Forget the old man. I’m here.” He crosses his arms, staring you down. “I’m here to propose a game we should play.”

“A game?” You tilt your head, almost adorably so, as you regard him warily. “What kind of game?”

“A very fun one.” Valentin steps toward you. “I promise you’ll love it.”

“I’m not so sure I believe you.”

“Hear me out.” One hand cups your warm cheek. “If I win, you let me do as I please with you tonight.”

Your pout reminds him of a puppy – an accursed weakness of his. “That sounds like every night we spend together though.”

“Yes, well, if you win, you can do as you please with me for the night.” It’s a preposterous idea, really, because there’s no way you can win this. He’s planned everything so that you’ll lose.

Your eyes light up at that as you clasp your hands behind you. “What’s this game then?”

Valentin smiles thinly, stepping away to retrieve the box he left in here earlier. “Take a look.”

Your gaze is uncertain as you remove the top of the box. “What is this?” Your voice is sweet as can be as your hand touches the object inside.

Oh, he can already imagine your expression when he tells you. “What do you think it is?”

“I haven’t any idea.” You pick it up, tracing its grooves. It takes a lot of willpower to stifle his laugh. “A glass ornament?”

His hand touches your soft lips, gently tracing its shape. “Think less like a noble.

Doesn’t it look familiar at all?”

Your cheeks flush pink as you look down at it again. “Please, just tell me, Valentin.”

He chuckles as he pushes his thumb into your mouth. “You really are a precious nobleman’s daughter, aren’t you?”

You pout again, but before you can say anything, he leans down and whispers against your ear, “They use these in whorehouses. They’re to simulate a man’s cock.”

It’s hilarious and absolutely adorable when you’re face turns bright red and you stumble backward. “I beg your pardon?” Your voice is higher than normal with panic. “And you let me touch that…that filthy thing?”

He laughs. “Calm down, it’s brand new. I went through a lot of trouble to procure it, you know.” A half-truth. He knows somebody who makes and sells them.

“W-why are you showing me this?”

“For our game, of course.” Valentin flashes you his most persuasive smile as he steps toward you once again. “This will be in you for the entirety of the party. If you can handle it, you win. However, if you need me to help relieve you, you lose. Understood?”

“That’s…that’s so…immoral…”

“Immoral?” He rolls his eyes and sneers, “So that’s immoral, but our relationship isn’t? You think that letting me fuck you in my office with others next door isn’t immoral, but this is?”

You squirm under his scrutiny. “I-I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…m-my father is here.”

“Because he’s here is the reason why we should play this game.” He catches your chin and raises your head so you’re looking at him. “Wouldn’t it be fun to do such lewd things while he’s none the wiser?”

He can see you deliberating the options in your head before you finally nod. “I…I guess it’ll be fun.”

Fun…for him, he supposes, but he won’t ruin it for now. “Sit down on the divan over there and get ready.”

You obey him, like you always do, as he takes out the toy and covers it in the oil he had the sense to bring with him. He might hate you, but he doesn’t want to hurt you like that. If he were to hurt you like that, it would be because of himself, not some silly toy.

It’s a sight to behold, the precious scion of the Spellmeyer clan with your legs spread and undergarments loosened. It takes a remarkable amount of willpower not to tear your dress off and fuck you right then and there.

Patience, he reminds himself. He can do whatever he pleases with you once he wins.

The wide gaze you give him almost does him in once again. “Why do you look so scared? It’s just like any other time.”

“It’s different.” You’re looking a little shy now. “My father doesn’t know anything about this and…and it feels so exciting.”

He snorts. “You want your father dearest to know that his darling daughter is being ruined by a commoner?”

You look away, a strange look on your face, but when you say nothing, he doesn’t push the subject. Instead, he presses the tip of the toy to your entrance. “Ready?”

“I think so.” Despite your words, he can hear the thrill in your voice.

He pushes it in, slowly for a bit, and when it’s clear you’re not in any pain, shoves it in quickly, eliciting a cry of his name from you. “Did that hurt?”

“N-no…” Your breathing is ragged.

“Damn, I wish it did.” He sighs as he offers you his hand to help you up, ignoring the indignant harrumph you gave him. “How does it feel?”

“Full.” Your face is pink. “It, um, doesn’t feel like you.”

“I’d imagine not.”

“I-I prefer you.”

That makes his brows go up in surprise. Your eyes are downcast as you leave the room with him, and he notices your stiff gait. So, he smirks and says, “Need any help?”

“I…I’m fine…” The trembling of your lower lip indicates otherwise, but he decides to humour you for now.

Naturally, Valentin would never dream of letting you off easy. The entire night, he sticks close to your side. Instead of your asking him to dance, he volunteers himself, a rush of excitement coursing through him whenever you faltered. He makes you sit down often, knowing that it will push his toy deeper inside you, and the faces you make as you struggle to compose yourself are nothing short of splendid.

“Are you feeling all right?” he murmurs next to your ear, wrapping an arm around your waist.

He’s well-aware of the whispers swirling around. They’re no longer surprised about seeing him with a woman – they’re not even shocked that it’s you – no, their astonishment comes from his tender appearance.

Your discomposure has been chalked up to the wine he’s given you, explaining your flushed appearance and unsteady carriage. It only serves to further his purpose as he steadies you throughout the night. He’s not ignorant to the murmurings of how gentlemanly and dashing he is.

How foolish they are.

“I-I don’t…” Your voice is breathy; an inflection he’s grown used to. “I can’t do this…”

“Then shall we go relieve you?”

Valentin wants to curse himself for his trepidation of fucking you. It’s just to further spread the rumours, he tells himself. It’s only to spite your father, he says.

But he knows somewhere deep down, he truly does love the sounds of your moans and the feeling of how warm you are around him.

“I need you, Valentin…” You’re more or less clinging to him as you leave the ballroom You must so close to your breaking point now.

“Needy little whore, aren’t you?” He can afford one kiss, right? If not to lead you on, it will at least add to his newfound reputation, right?

Your lips are soft and warm, the barest trace of wine still clinging to them as they part for his tongue. The quiet moan you give him encourages for his cool hands to cup your flushed cheeks.

There’s something about how warm, how delicate you feel under his calloused fingers that makes his resolve falter. Deep down, he knows it’s not your fault; that it’s wrong to put Burkhard’s sins on you, but he’s gone too far to give up now. Someone must pay, and he’s long decided that that someone is you, yet…

He can’t bring himself to acknowledge that he really does love you.

“Ah, Elector Sonnen.” The voice sends chills down Valentin’s back as he lets go of you. Stepping back stiffly with his eyes darting to the source of it – the one man he’s been trying to get to.

Burkhard regards the two of you coolly, though Valentin doesn’t miss the flicker in his gaze as he looks at you. “So, this is where you’ve wandered off to with my daughter.”

“F-Father.” You attempt to curtsey, but almost collapse, and would have, had he not grabbed your arm.

“Why are you acting so unbecomingly, foolish girl?” Burkhard’s glare at you is enough to make Valentin angry.

Why is he angry though?

“It’s my fault, my lord.” He steps in front of you. “I gave her a little too much to drink, so she’s tipsy.”

“How uncouth.” His sneer isn’t even masked now that he’s out of respectable company. “The son of a whore thinks he’s worthy of helping my daughter?”

It takes all of his willpower not to punch the man right then and there. Valentin grits his teeth as he levels his own glare. “A bastard is a hundred times more respectable than yourself.”

He doesn’t let the older man speak another word, instead, he drags you away with him. You’re barely stumbling along whilst whimpering quietly, but Valentin doesn’t want to look back, fearing he’ll still see Burkhard’s face.

He pushes you into the room from earlier, hard enough for you to topple over onto the floor. “V-Valentin…” You sound like you’re halfway between sobbing and moaning.

There’s almost a pang of pity when he sees the desperation on your face as you rock your hips in an attempt to get any friction to relieve you. It’s a bit charming, dare he say.

The sweet sound of his name leaving your lips almost makes him reconsider his plans.

“Valentin…”

So, he crouches down to your level, grabbing your chin with one of his hands. “Tell me what you want.”

“I-I want this to be over…”

“You just want it out?” His other hand hikes up your dress. “That’s it?”

You nod so furiously that he chuckles while pushing your skirts up and pulling off your soaked undergarments.

“Aren’t you a dirty little slut?” A cool finger traces the outline of your wet entrance. “You look like you’ve cum several times already.”

“I haven’t.” Your hand grabs onto his upper arm. “Please, Valentin…I-I can’t do this.”

Valentin flashes you an amused smirk as he pulls out the toy with no preparation whatsoever, drinking in the cry of relief that goes along with it. “Happy now?”

“Yes, yes, yes, thank you so much.”

He watches your warm smile, feeling himself mimic it as well, as though your silly happiness infected him. It’s disgusting to let such vapid emotions affect him, but he doesn’t resist as he undoes his cravat.

“It’s time for your punishment, whore.” The words are spit out harshly, yet you no longer cower nor flinch.

Instead, you look at him with wide and excited eyes. “What’s my punishment then?”

Were you enjoying this? Valentin chuckled as he tied the cravat around your eyes. “That’ll be for me to know, and you to find out.”

It’s a double-edged sword, depriving you of your vision. He takes a great amount of delight in seeing your eyes tear up and look about curiously, but the fact you’re going to be hypersensitive to his every touch is more enticing.

“Y-you’re not going to leave me like this, right?” There’s a trace of panic in your voice that eerily echoes that of his own. What happened to a precious noble girl to have such a fear?

He brings his lips close to your ear, licking the shell of it before murmuring, “A tempting idea, but I don’t turn down a good fuck by a desperate whore.”

Valentin picks up the glass toy, watching it glisten under the lights, before bringing it to your lips. “Clean it, harlot. Taste how wanton you are, letting yourself cum to this fake cock.”

You obediently do as he says, pink tongue licking along its surface. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea, since his trousers suddenly seem so much tighter as he thinks about how your mouth around him.

The thought of how warm you, the picture of your doe-eyes looking up at him with tears in them, the thought of how gently you speak to him…

Suddenly, he feels an immense distaste for the toy, and pulls it away. “That’s enough.”

It’s not hard to think that you’re blinking in confusion. “D-did I do something wrong?”

No, no, you did nothing wrong, he wants to say. It’s his sentimentality.

“Of course you did, you dim-witted slut.” He flips you onto your stomach, grabbing your hair in the process. “Don’t you know what you’ve done wrong?”

“I-I don’t know.” The fear is rising in your voice. “I’m sorry.”

Valentin bites down on the nape of your neck, ignoring the pained cry you let out, and undoes his trousers. He wanted to torment you at first, but it’s unbearable now. “If you don’t know...” He presses himself against you, and he feels you stiffen from surprise. “Then I’ll make you suffer for it.”

He rubs himself against your entrance, coating his length with your wetness. “What is it that you want?”

“I want you.” You try to move with him, but he pulls on your hair harder. “Be clearer.”

“I want you to fuck me.” You’re whimpering now.

“How so?”

“P-please fuck me like your whore.”

“Good girl.”

Valentin pushes himself inside easily, giving you almost no time to adjust before beginning to pound into you.

He likes it this way – your being completely obedient to him, and the sex only being about lust and pleasure, but it’s almost not enough now. Now, he almost craves something more intimate. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he just wants to shower you in kisses, and let this act drop.

Almost as though he truly wants to make love to you.

The realization of that fuels his furious thrusts, forcing himself to let your cries and moans sink in.

He only wants to fuck you.

He only wants you as a pawn.

He only wants you for revenge.

…He really wants to love you.

“Valentin…Valentin…” His name spills from your mouth time and time again as you cum, it almost baffles him. Why do you keep chanting his name? It’s always been like this, and it’s always confused him. Do you not know that this is wrong?

Do you not know that he’s a bad man?

“Fuck,” he groans, coming deep inside of you. He’s reluctant to pull out, desiring little more than the feeling of how gentle and warm you are.

But he eventually pulls out, watching his seed slowly trickle out of you. Every single time he’s cummed inside, yet he’s always fascinated by it. Will this time leave you with child? If you are with his child, what will you do then?

As if drawn by these thoughts, he uses a finger to push it back inside of you as he continues to watch, almost tenderly so.

“What are you doing?” Your voice sounds so soft.

Whatever mildness he has disappears as he presses a harsh kiss to your neck. “I was making sure that this time you’ll be left with my child.”

“Child…?”

“What greater honour is there,” he says, untying his cravat from your eyes “than to bear my children? Think about the chaos that the precious Spellmeyer daughter has my child out of wedlock. What will they do then?”

Your eyes fill with worry as you turn to look back at him. “I-I can’t…”

“But you will.” His nips at your lips. “You’ll be my wife. It’s your duty to bear my children.”

“Wife?”

Valentin’s cheeks warm slightly at your echo, so he buries his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder. “Is there another position where we can fuck and have children without questions?”

There’s that adorable breathy laugh of yours. “I suppose not.”

He can still make this work. He’ll marry you, and then ruin your family – the two can be mutually-exclusive.

You don’t deserve him, that much he knows, but he also knows that he doesn’t deserve you. You should have someone who’ll love and cherish you, neither of which he can do, and yet…

Valentin knows that he’s hopelessly and desperately in love with you. Even if it’s not the smartest thing to do, he’ll keep loving you.

#aab snippets #aab valentin #in which he catches the feels by accident and tries to deny them for like 3k words

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shipitrealgood · 5 years ago

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Rizumo Week 2020 Day 2: Apocalypse

WOO Rizumo Week is here and I’m only already a day behind!!! Have my offering anyways because I’m very proud of it!!!

@the-new-rizumo-week-blog

Their time ran out. Gehenna Gate was officially open.

The mid-morning sky is pitch black as Lucifer’s army clashes with Samael’s forces. Hardly anything can be heard over the din of war, the screams of the innocent fading one by one as countless lives are lost. Otherworldly beings pour through rips in space, ready and willing to join in the complete destruction of everything around them. It’s brutal, it’s chaotic, and above all else… it seems utterly hopeless.

Yet, two teenage girls dash quickly through the forests, heading further and further toward the heart of ruin. Despite being clad in school uniforms, the ease with which they battle off supernatural forces and the fluidity of their synchronization suggest intense training and experience.

Izumo Kamiki and Shiemi Moriyama fly through the trees, their faces grim and their hearts sharing one goal.

“We’re still going the right way, right?” Izumo shouts, not even pausing to look at her friend. Her twintails whip behind her as they race forward, narrowly avoiding tripping over hazardous roots and jagged rocks.

“Yes! Nee says he’s just a little farther!” Shiemi calls back. She’s clearly beginning to flag, but sheer determination pushes her to keep running, running, running through the exhaustion and burning pain—

—until a clawed hand grabs her leg and heaves her through the air, snatching the ground right out from under her. Her involuntary scream is cut short because, already, Mike and Uke are there, cutting off the offending arm and freeing her. Nee spawns a woollybush to cushion her fall, but before Shiemi can thank it, she catches sight of their surroundings.

“Nee! Barrier!”

Thick bramble bursts from its body and encompasses the surroundings just as a swarm of demons pounce forth. Shiemi and Izumo stand in the middle of a slowly hardening cocoon, watching as the desperate beings claw at the thorns that tighten around them. They snarl and gnash, their attention solely focused on the prey before them, even as their bodies rip and tear apart on the barrier.

Despite this, the inhuman howling only seems to grow louder. “Dammit, there’s more of them,” Izumo spits out, spinning around in all directions to try to ascertain the situation. “Mike! Uke! Where are you?!”

Nee places its arm on Shiemi’s leg, drawing its master’s attention toward the deep gashes found there. Shiemi stares at it thoughtfully, then up to her friend, then up to the cocoon surrounding them. She finally settles her gaze on the direction they’d been travelling.

“... Kamiki. You have to get to Rin.”

Izumo, who had been strategizing with Mike and Uke, freezes. She whips around to face Shiemi, utter bewilderment meeting a cool calm. “Wha— What are you saying?! You’re the one he needs right now! Both of them do!”

Shiemi shakes her head, gesturing to her leg. “I’m not going to make it there in time. And right now, I have the best shot of fending these demons off.” Izumo scoffs without malice, clearly intent on arguing, but Shiemi gestures around them. “Look! This is my element. They can’t beat me here.” Her eyes are set with that same foolhardy courage Izumo’s seen so many times before. “Please, leave this to me, Kamiki.”

The other tamer stomps her foot, hands clenched painfully into fists. “You can’t seriously expect me to leave you here—”

“Izumo!!” Shiemi’s cherubic features harden into a mask of stony determination. “Just like I have something I must do, right now, there’s something only you can do. I believe in you! Now, go!”

Long vines of wisteria shoot out from Nee’s chest, wrapping around Izumo and pulling her up and away through an opening in the cocoon. The last she sees of Shiemi is her soft, tender smile… and then the bramble closes up completely.

———

Izumo thrashes, curses, and kicks violently at the vines the whole way through, but they’re undeterred. They seem to stretch endlessly, weaving seamlessly around every tree and bush, before they finally clear the woods and reach their limit. Upon gently depositing her on top of a steep hill, they rapidly recoil and vanish from sight. The fallen petals have made a perfect trail, and she has half a mind to stomp her way right back… until she sees the scene beyond the crest.

The apocalypse, pure and simple, is upon them.

But… a figure in the distance has her running down the slope before she even realizes it. The hair is too light and all wrong, his face too sunken, and god, when did he get so skinny—but there’s no way she’d mistake him for anyone else.

“Rin!”

His gaze snaps to her, shifting instantly from piercing to panicked. He stands alone in a clearing, his clothing showing clear signs of battle, but seeming uninjured. There’s no sign of Yukio’s presence—not yet. The knot in Izumo’s chest finally untangles with relief.

Good. She isn’t too late.

“I-Izumo?! You shouldn’t be here!” Despite his words, his arms still raise up as though he means to catch her when she starts skidding down the rest of the way.

But as with all things, she stubbornly resists this, digging her heels in firmly to stop a few feet away from him, ignoring her ankles’ aching protest. The glare she gives him could wither a man twice his size, and dimly, Rin thinks that he’s glad he’s more demon than man at the moment.

She inhales sharply.

There’s something only you can do.

“You,” Izumo says with an impressive amount of venom in one word, “are an absolute idiot.”

Rin’s mouth drops open.

“I mean seriously, did you make a bet with someone to get dumber and dumber everyday?! Every time I think you’ve finally peaked, you go off and find a way to prove me wrong. And the worst part is, you don’t even take your own advice!” She crosses her arms firmly across her chest, successfully managing to not flinch when one of her nastier injuries reopens.

Rin frantically throws his arms up in the air, his expression one of pure bewilderment. “What the hell— what is going on here?! Why are you here— no, why are you angry at me— no, did you seriously just come here to get mad at me?! What did I do?!” He pauses, spotting the blood dripping off her arm. “Wait, you’re blee—”

Her glare somehow grows icier as she takes a step forward. “Don’t try to change the subject. You know exactly what you were about to do.” Step. “You were about to sacrifice yourself.” He swallows. Another step. “You want to protect your friends, your brother, and everyone, and somewhere in that twisted, idiot logic of yours, you worked out a way to save everyone except yourself.” The last step puts her within arm’s reach, the closest they’ve been in a long, long time. “I think we both know better than anyone what being on the receiving end of that feels like.”

He can’t hold her gaze. The second he looks away, she flicks him on the forehead.

“If you’ve reached the end of what you can do alone, then rely on us. We’re here for you.”

His eyes widen.

And maybe it’s because when she’s this close, she can really see how different he looks and it hurts her heart; maybe it’s because he looks like he’s been staring down the gallows for so long that he dares not imagine a break in the rope; or maybe it’s because the world is threatening to pull apart at the seams around them and she lost the will to pretend she didn’t care so, so long ago—any one of these reasons could be the one that has her hand gently carding through his hair.

Rin’s frozen under her touch, looking all too fragile and scared for her liking, and she tousles his hair a little rougher. “This white really doesn’t suit you.” Her voice is so soft, the kind of soft he’s only ever heard her use for Paku and Shiemi, and sometimes Kuro when she thinks no one is listening. She lowers her hand and ghosts her fingertips along his cheek, almost as if by accident, and he subconsciously leans into the touch. Her heart pounds with one, decisive thump. “Should I start calling you ‘grandpa,’ old man?”

He blinks once. Twice. Three times before saying, “What?”

She snorts and drops her hand, sneering as she shrugs as condescendingly as possible. “Oh sorry, didn’t realize you were hard of hearing now too. I said, do you—”

He splutters. “Who’re you calling grandpa?! First of all, I’d be a Grade A silver fox—”

“Did you seriously just use the word ‘fox’ because it’s me—”

Their bickering fills the air and, given the setting, it’s an entirely ridiculous picture. When students read records of war in the classroom, very rarely are there entries that go, “and then the commander argued with his classmate about how much of a catch he was before setting off to battle.”

(But for this war, if they all were to survive, perhaps someone would write—)

An approaching presence has Rin snap to attention, and he’s momentarily thrown when he realizes that he’s actually relaxed and focused. There isn’t even a trace of the destructive spiral he was going down before…

He looks to Izumo, who already has Mike and Uke summoned by her side. Before she arrived. Their eyes meet and she grins like a shot fox. “You might as well just stand back and let me finish this whole thing. Wouldn’t want you to break a hip out there.”

Laughter bursts from his lips. “You never heard of respecting your elders, missy?” His hand slips briefly into her own, squeezing hard.

Thanks, Izumo.

(—Perhaps someone would write about the group of friends who knew that even the son of Satan had doubts and fears, and the shrine maiden who pulled him back.)

#rizumo #rizumo week 2020 #rinzumo #izurin #Ao no Exorcist #blue exorcist

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pocket-luv101 · 5 years ago

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Across Time || Chapter 15

Fandom: Servamp Ships: KuroMahi (main), LawLicht (side) Characters: Kuro, Mahiru, Hyde, Licht

Summary: Mahiru falls into a well and is taken to a new, fantasy world. He comes across a half-blooded cat demon trapped in a tree. After he frees Kuro, he helps him collect the shards of the sacred jewel. (KuroMahi, InuYasha AU)

Ch.1 || Ch.2 || Ch.3 || Ch.4 || Ch.5 || Ch.6 || Ch.7 || Ch.8 || Ch.9 || Ch.10 || Ch.11 || Ch.12 || Ch.13 || Ch.14 || (Ch.15) ||

“We weren’t able to kill my brother.” Tsubaki picked up the remains of the cat mask. He visited the festival on a whim and discovered that his brother was there as well. In their last encounter, Tsubaki lost his right arm. He was lefthanded so he could still fight with only one arm. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be enough to kill his brother. Kuro was the strongest of their eight siblings. “I thought the fight would be interesting at least but it ended too soon.”

He created a plan to turn Mahiru against Kuro but he never expected that the human would be powerful enough to break the curse. Since he created the trap quickly after he saw his brother, it was unlikely to succeed. Anger raged in him and he wanted to fight Kuro again. He needed his brother to understand how it felt to be betrayed and lose someone he loved.

A malicious presence behind him caught Tsubaki’s attention. He pulled his sword from its scabbard and he turned to face the demon. The man didn’t move nor did he react to his raised blade. He wore a spider mask so he couldn’t see his face but Tsubaki could already predict his next words. “My name is Touma. I believe we can help each other.”

“Another man who wishes to take my jewel shard. I know your kind well. People like you are predictable and uninteresting.” Tsubaki took a jewel shard from his sleeve and flicked it to Touma. “Keep it. I have no need for the shard since it failed to help me get revenge. You have made many promises to demons for their help. I’m not easy to trick like them. You will turn on me when you have all of the shards.”

“I am not here for your help collecting the shards but a reason you must understand. You wish to have revenge against your brother for murdering your father. I have someone I despise as well. I can give you the power to wield the tessaiga and slay your brother.” Touma held up the jewel shard. “There is only one thing I want in exchange. Kill the man named Shirota who travels with your brother.”

“The farmer told me that there are rumours of a strong demon who has been raiding the countryside with the power of a shard. The demon could be working with Touma since it often rambles on and on about the shards whenever he attacks.” Mahiru said when he returned to their group. He noticed the wary expressions the farmers had as they passed and went to speak with them.

“Let’s capture that demon and demand he tells us where that damn spider is hiding.” Licht decided and he started to march down the road. Evidence of the demon’s attack littered the farm land and he thought of the different demons who could dig up the land. “The demon didn’t find what he wanted here so he likely moved on already. If we hurry, we can catch up with him soon.”

“Actually, I already offered our help to the farmers. The demon ruined their crops and they need help restoring the land. With a few extra hands and two people with the strength of a demon, they can finish quicker.” Mahiru said. Before Licht could argue, he quickly added: “The demon has attacked them every night for the past three days and it’s likely he’ll return again. Thinking simply, it’s better to let him come to us rather than chasing him. The farmers were also kind enough to offer us a place to stay and food.”

“Farm work sounds troublesome but it could be better than wondering through the woods. We can have a real bed too.” He gave in far quicker than Hyde expected him to. Kuro knew the main reason Mahiru offered their help to the farmers was his generous heart. He had seen his kindness throughout their travels and Kuro wanted to support Mahiru. “I can be a scarecrow and scare away the demons.”

“I don’t think that’s a job nor will it be helpful to the farmers, Kuro. You just want to be able to stand around and be lazy. Don’t worry, I’ll find something you can do that won’t be too ‘troublesome’.” Mahiru chuckled. When their journey started, his lazy nature irritated him but he grew to love him. He took his hand and pulled towards the farm. He glanced to Hyde and Licht. “You two should help as well.”

Mahiru walked to the farmers again and discussed the work they needed help with. He helped organize everyone into the roles they were best suited to. Kuro admired how he was easily able to connect with others and work with them. He fell into the leadership role naturally and helped people. “Hyde, Kuro, can you two help clear the debris? Licht, please work with the farmhand to create defenses so demons can’t easily attack again? I know plants and herbs so I will help replant everything and pull weeds.”

They nodded and then went to help the farmers. Kuro picked up a large tree trunk and placed it on his shoulder to carry it away. Mahiru knelt next to him and examined the plants that were crushed beneath it. He hoped he could salvage as many of the plants as possible. “Do you want me to help pick weeds once I finish this? You’ll have to teach me the difference between weeds and leaves though.”

“That would be great. Thank you, Kuro. I’m not strong or a skilled fighter like you three but I can still support you with things like this.” He said and smiled up at Kuro. He thought Mahiru was stronger and braver than he was. Kuro had seen how he became more skilled with archery and his powers with practise. “Licht can use the wood from that log to make traps.”

“We’re an odd group, aren’t we?” Kuro glanced around the farm. “A priest, a half demon, a demon disguised as a monk and a demon slayer. My brother and that man fight but you seemed to have pulled them in line. You’re something special.”

“Do you think so?” Mahiru blushed. At the festival, he realized he loved Kuro and he didn’t want to lose him. He didn’t know if he should confess to him though. They travelled together and became closer but Kuro likely thought of him as only a friend. He couldn’t make things awkward with his feelings when they were already in a stressful situation.

Mahiru turned away from him and focused on the herbs again.

“Do you think the demon will come soon? We’ve been waiting for hours. Maybe the farmers lied to us to trick us into working the fields.” Hyde clicked his tongue. He sat on the tree and watched the road for the demon. The shadows shifted and his eyes narrowed at the movement. He felt the wood tremble beneath him slightly when Licht landed on the barricade next to him. “Do you see that?”

“From the outline of the demon, it’s an onikuma. Bear demons descend from the mountain sometimes but that’s to steal horses, not vegetables. It wouldn’t attack a simple farm like this.” Licht knew a lot about demons and their habits. “Something doesn’t seem right about this. Use that nose of yours and tell me if it’s alone, Shit Rat.”

“My nose is good but not that much. It’s nice that you have such confidence in me though. I can use my powers to sense people’s energy though. There’s two and… Get back on the other side of the barricade and tell my brother that we have company.” The way his voice became stiff caught Licht’s attention. Before he could ask him more, Hyde jumped off the barricade.

He faced the onikuma and drew his fencing saber. The ground trembled slightly as the demon approached him yet he barely regarded it. Hyde looked over the demon until he saw a man on its shoulder. “The last time we saw each other, you left to find Nii-san’s sword. Do you still want to take it, Tsubaki?”

“Did you get that sword while you were travelling overseas? It’s interesting. After I take back father’s sword, I think I will take yours as well.” Tsubaki jumped to the ground. He pulled his sword form his sheath and smiled without a hint of warmth. “Before, you said you could never forgive our brother for killing father. But here I find you.”

“A lot of things have changed since then. I’m still angry at our brother but now I want answers more than revenge. I can’t ask him anything if you kill him.” Hyde said. The last time they fought, they were equally skilled. He didn’t want a battle to draw out between them because the humans beyond the barricade might be hurt.

“I have another weapon aside from my sword. I don’t want to use my wind tunnel on you but I made a vow to protect humans. My wind tunnel will draw in everything in its path, including your demon friend and your sword.” Hyde warned. Their family had drifted apart but he still cared for his siblings. He knew that Tsubaki couldn’t be reasoned with easily and he needed to stop him.

He unwrapped the enchanted beads from his hand and raised his hand towards his brother. A powerful wind circled them until the force focused on his hand and dragged in everything before him. Tsubaki was slowly pulled forward but he didn’t seem to be surprised nor scared. He took out a decorative ball from his sleeve. “A new friend gave me several gifts. This will be useful against you.”

Tsubaki tossed the ball into the air and large bees flew out of it. They flew into his wind tunnel and their stingers nicked the edge of the hole. Hyde winced and started to close his wind tunnel before the injury could grow. If he used the attack too often or if it was damaged, the wind tunnel could grow large enough to engulf him. Suddenly, his body became cold and limp. He fell to his knees and he caught himself on the ground. His palm scraped against the dirt.

Tsubaki stood over him. “Touma told me about your wind tunnel and its weaknesses.”

“Stop!” Before Tsubaki could stab him, Kuro stopped him. He came between them and swung his claws at his brother. Kuro was pulled off his feet by the power of the wind tunnel. He couldn’t fight well within the tornado he created. He cursed when the wind slipped the tessaiga from its sheath. The sword fell and became embedded in the dirt. He reminded himself that Tsubaki couldn’t wield the sword and focused on the fight. The seal on the sword only allowed someone with human blood to lift it.

Licht and Mahiru ran after him. He was shocked to see Tsubaki and remembered the large demon he could transform into. They needed to defeat him or else he would harm the farmers. He saw Hyde laying on the ground and gasped. “Hyde doesn’t have control of his wind tunnel. We need to help him but be careful not to be sucked in too. Wait, Licht, I said be careful!”

He ignored Mahiru’s warning and ran forward. Licht ran to Hyde and he managed to keep himself from being sucked into his wind tunnel. He jumped onto his back so the wind couldn’t reach him. He leaned over him and took the loose string of beads. After he wrapped the beads around his hand and sealed the wind tunnel, Licht slumped onto the ground next to him.

“I thought you had better control over your hand.” He said. Licht noticed how slow and laboured his breathing was. He took his hand and found the skin around the wind tunnel was purple. “Shit. This looks like the effect of venom. It makes your body numb.”

“I have some medicine in my bag. Licht, you should stay here and protect Hyde. Kuro, I’ll be back soon.” He called to him before he ran back to the farm house.

“Your human left before things could become interesting. My new friend gave me a new arm in exchange for the priest’s life. You might know my friend. His name is Touma. He said attacking this farm would draw you out.” The name sent a shiver through Kuro. He needed to defeat Tsubaki before Mahiru returned or else he would target him. Kuro dashed forward to fight him and keep him from following Mahiru.

But then, Tsubaki gripped the hilt of the tessaiga. Kuro expected the seal to reject him and burn him. His eyes widened when he freed the sword from the ground. A cold grin spread across his face as he raised the sword towards Kuro. Blood coated the blade as he said: “I won’t kill you. You will suffer more if I make you watch your mate die.”

“Don’t you dare touch Mahiru.” Kuro didn’t understand how his brother was able to hold the sword. He could sense the seal’s power so he knew that he hadn’t broken the spell. He didn’t linger on the question for long and leapt forward to fight Tsubaki. Now that he had the tessaiga, he was stronger and it would be difficult to stop him. “Take Hyde and run, Licht! Tell Mahiru not to come here either!”

“Don’t stop my fun, Brother.” He said. Kuro blocked Tsubaki’s next swing with his sheath and redirected the attack away from him. The blood he used to coat the tessaiga became solid and shot out towards him. He managed to dodge the thin blade but it nicked his arm slightly. He gripped the sword’s hilt and tried to wrestle it from his hand.

Tsubaki swung the sword down and cut into his shoulder. He ignored the pain and tightened his told on the tessaiga. Kuro pictured Mahiru’s smile in his mind and drew strength from the image. He refused to allow Tsubaki to hurt him. He raised the sword above their heads with the hopes that he could get enough leverage to take it from Tsubaki.

A bell rang above them and they both looked up to see an arrow strike the large blade. After the tessaiga glowed briefly, it returned to a thin sword. The arrow fell to the ground and Kuro recognized the spiritual energy ebbed in it. They looked to the barricade where Mahiru stood with his bow raised. He purified the sword and reversed its transformation.

“There’s a jewel shard in his right arm. The spiritual energy around the arm is different from the rest of his body as well. It’s human.” Mahiru yelled as he nocked another arrow. They were far away so he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to strike the jewel shard. Even if he couldn’t hit the shard, he could purify the arm and stop him from using the tessaiga again.

While he distracted, Kuro dug his claws into Tsubaki’s arm and roughly cut through it. Now that he knew the arm wasn’t truly a part of him, he didn’t have to worry about hurting him. He took the sword back but Tsubaki had changed his focus to Mahiru. He bared his own claws and ran to him. Kuro’s heart sank when he saw Mahiru trip as he tried to run.

Kuro ran to stop him and placed his body between them. He heard Mahiru’s sharp gasp behind him before he felt the pain. He looked down to where Tsubaki had stabbed him through the stomach. Mahiru caught him as he fell backwards. He lowered him to the ground and immediately started to heal him. “Please, Kuro, stay with me. Don’t worry, I’ll heal you.”

Tsubaki loomed over them and Mahiru’s body tensed. He wanted to continue healing Kuro but he also needed to place a shield around them. Kuro was unconscious but he continued to hold the tessaiga. Ashes flew from the blade and attacked Tsubaki before he could attack them further. He clicked his tongue and said, “The sword attacked of its own accord. The tessaiga must not like me. If that’s so, I have to go but I’ll return for the sword.”

Mahiru didn’t watch him leave and kept his attention on Kuro’s wound. He placed his hand over his stomach and let his spiritual energy flow into him. “Why would you do something like that, Kuro? I could’ve ran away. You didn’t need to get yourself hurt like this.”

I had to protect the man I love. Kuro thought to himself before his vision faded.

“Thank goodness, you’re awake, Kuro!” The first thing he saw when he woke was Mahiru’s brown eyes. There were small tears clinging to his lashes and Kuro wanted to reach up to wipe them away. His body felt too heavy to move and he let out a small groan. Mahiru placed his hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving. “Don’t push yourself.”

His warm hand moved from his shoulder to cup his cheek. Kuro could feel his spiritual energy flow into him and his body felt lighter. He glanced around them and found that he was laying on Mahiru’s lap. Memories of the previous night came back to him and he stiffened. “Where’s Tsubaki? Were you hurt after I lost consciousness?”

“No, you protected me. Tsubaki also ran away after you took back the tessaiga so we weren’t hurt.” He reassured him a soothing voice. Kuro glanced around them and he realized that they were flying through the sky. The sunrise shined behind Mahiru and its glow framed him like a halo. Kuro reached up to him and Mahiru took his hand. “I was so worried about you, Kuro.”

“Have you been healing me this entire time?” He noticed how pale his face was. Kuro thought back to how Tsubaki almost used his sword to hurt Mahiru and guilt clutched at his heart. His past put him in danger. He vowed to protect him when they started their journey and he almost broke that promise. “I’m fine now so you can stop. You’ll hurt yourself if you use your spiritual powers too much.”

“I’m fine. I was more worried about your injuries. Hyde contacted a friend who can fly and he’s taking us to a village where we can treat your wounds better. You might not believe this but Hyde’s friend is a giant whale who can fly.” Mahiru leaned down and whispered into Kuro’s ear. “I told him to take us to my uncle’s village so I can get more bandages from my time as well.”

Kuro fell silent and closed his eyes. At first, Mahiru was worried that he lost consciousness again but Kuro kept a reassuring grip on his hand. He didn’t open his eyes as he said, “When we reach the village, can I go back through the well with you? I’m strong enough to climb out of the well if it means I can have a bowl of ramen.”

“Oh, Kuro, you’re hopeless.” Mahiru shook his head but there was a smile on his lips. And I’m hopelessly in love with you, Kuro.

He had exhausted his spiritual energy but Mahiru continued to stroke his light hair. There was so much he wanted to say to Kuro but he thought it was best to let him rest. Mahiru looked forward at the treetops and the thousand years old tree that stood over them. They neared the village and the tension in his body loosened slightly. They were safe.

Once they reached the edge of the forest, the whale demon descended from the ground. Licht slid off its back and he walked to Mahiru to help him lower Kuro to the ground. Tsubaki focused his anger on his brothers so he wasn’t as injured as they were. After he helped Mahiru, he went to Hyde who was still laying on the whale’s back.

“I can get off by myself.” Hyde shook his head when Licht reached out his hand to him.

“Don’t be so stubborn, Demon.” Licht rolled his eyes and took his hand before he could pull away. The antidote purged the poison from his body but he hadn’t recovered his strength enough to resist. Then he felt how warm his body was and he let go of his pride.

“My uncle’s home is the simple hut next to the village’s entrance. He will help you two if you take him there and tell him that I sent you. I’m going to take Kuro to another hut.” Mahiru told them. He was glad that Licht didn’t question him as he took Kuro into the forest. While he trusted the two, he needed to keep the well a secret.

Kuro didn’t say a word as they walked through the forest. The sound of birds and the morning sun created a peaceful atmosphere. Mahiru wanted to enjoy the tranquil moment with Kuro but he couldn’t help but think of his injuries. With that thought, he wrapped his arm around his waist and walked a little quicker. “Tell me to slow down if I’m going too fast for you.”

“This pace is okay.” He said. He couldn’t meet Mahiru’s eyes because he was afraid that he might lose his resolve if he looked at him. Kuro stood straighter and placed his hand over Mahiru’s. They reached the well and Mahiru let him go to remove the cover. He waved his hand over the well and the spell tags faded to ashes. “You’ve gotten better at controlling spiritual energy.”

“I still have a long way to go.” Mahiru sighed.

They stepped onto the edge and jumped into the well. As they travelled across time, Kuro held onto his hand. He felt as if they floated in the ocean of colours until the world returned. They landed on the dirt and Mahiru looked up at the opening of the well. Instead of the blue sky, the ceiling of the shrine was above them so he knew he was home.

Kuro lifted Mahiru into his arms and jumped out of the well. They landed on the edge of the wood and he set Mahiru down on the ground. Mahiru turned to face him and he worriedly looked over his injuries. “I know you’re a demon but you shouldn’t strain yourself by moving so much, Kuro. I could’ve climbed up by myself and gotten you a ladder. Did your wounds open?”

“I’ve made a decision.” Kuro said instead of answering him. “Every fight we find ourselves in gets more dangerous. Touma is targeting you and he’s one of the most dangerous demons I’ve met.”

“He is strong but that’s all the more reason we need to defeat him. I’m not afraid of him as long as we’re together. Are you scared of Touma? Please, don’t be. You’ve given me so much strength and made me braver. We can do anything if we’re together.” Light filtered into the shrine and Mahiru could see emotions wash over Kuro’s face.

He gasped when Kuro suddenly gathered him into his embrace. He held him so close that there was barely room to breathe between them. Mahiru held his breath as he tilted his head back to look up at him. Before he could see his expression, Kuro buried his face into his neck. “The only thing I’m afraid of is losing you, Mahiru. When Tsubaki attacked you, I…”

He trailed off because he didn’t want to picture the scene again. Kuro ran his hand up his back until he could lightly thread his fingers in his brown hair. “Do you remember the first time Tsubaki attacked us? I protected you then because I cared for you but so much has changed. Yesterday, I also wanted to protect you but I couldn’t.”

“That’s not true, Kuro. I’m right here.” He whispered back to him. The pain in Kuro’s voice pulled at his heart. He wanted to hold him and comfort him. Mahiru’s hand rubbed his back and he thought how strong he was.

“There were many times I thought it would be better for you to stay in your time. You’re safe here.” His arms loosened around him. Mahiru was shocked when he felt his lips against his forehead. Kuro’s lips moved over his skin until he whispered into his ear. “This is the best way I can keep you safe, Mahiru. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Mahiru’s shock turned to confusion when Kuro pulled away from him. In his daze, he couldn’t react quickly enough to stop Kuro from jumping back into the wall. He leaned over the side but he couldn’t see him. He knew that he returned to the feudal era and Mahiru jumped into the well to follow him. The ground came much faster than he expected.

Mahiru looked up and found that the ceiling above him hadn’t changed. “Why am I still in my time?”

He climbed back up the well and tried again. Yet, everything was the same. Mahiru didn’t understand why he didn’t travel back in time when he could do it easily before. He thought back to his uncle’s explanation of how the jewel’s power allowed him to use the well. He touched his neck and his heat sank when he couldn’t find his jewel pouch. Kuro must’ve taken his jewel shards when he kissed his forehead.

His earlier words echoed in his mind. You’re safe here.

#servamp #kuromahi #lawlicht #sloth pair #greed pair #servamp kuro #mahiru shirota #servamp hyde #licht jekylland todoroki #servamp tsubaki #fanfiction

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imnotcameraready · 6 years ago

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chivalry is dead (12)

A/N: WE’VE REACHED!!!!!!!!!!!!! KISSES!!!! HELL YEAH—

there are also So many characters in this one y’all im so sorry to do this to you but also Suffer — since they’re not gonna be reoccurring, i’m adding a characters tag so y’all know what you’re getting into. also, i felt a liiiiittle bad with all the angst i was giving, so since chapters 12 and 13 happen simultaneously, y’all are getting the Softs for now :)

what, angst on the horizon? says who? ;)

Characters: Deceit, Patton, the Playwright, the Artist, the Bard, Sleep (Remy), Dad Guy, Teacher Guy

WARNINGS: bruises and black eyes, references to imprisonment, food/food mention — i dont think there's much in this chapter, but if i missed anything, please let me know!!

Words: 6961

Pairings: i’m so. so proud to announce. welcome to some Roceit, some Royality, a sliver of Moceit, and Dad Guy x Teacher Guy (the best ship, imho)

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST! <– look here!! for some of the series long warnings!! including sympathetic Deceit and cursing/swearing, both of which are heavily present here!

chivalry taglist: @starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda @askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil

general tag: @jemthebookworm

enjoy!!!! sorry for the long intro, and ilysm !! <3 <3 <3

This was very much not Deceit’s forte. He ran his hand through the Bard’s hair for the umpteenth time, shooting Patton a terrified expression. Patton was on the Bard’s other side, arms wrapped around his waist, head resting on his shoulder.

“You’re okay, Roman,” he whispered, again, “You’re okay.”

The trio had been standing in a weird multi-hug for nearly ten minutes, ever since the Thief absconded. Patton figured it’d be safer to stay with Deceit and the Bard; he was more accustomed to seeing Roman cry, sad to say, but it was still only a handful of times. He did know that Deceit was very much not equipped to handle situations like this, though, and, well. He didn’t exactly trust Deceit to not make things worse.

He wasn’t, though, so Patton was pretty happy. The Bard had even finished crying a few minutes ago. That wasn’t the issue. He just refused to let up from where he was pressed into Deceit’s chest, breathing slow and quiet.

It wasn’t like Deceit minded too much. It was a little annoying. Just a little. But it was also comforting. He tried his best to not look at Patton’s little glances, but Deceit knew his face was a little red. He didn’t want to let go of Roman. Not when he was this close, also comforted in his hold.

Despite Deceit’s strategy of letting go of his crush, he was almost falling faster. He pressed his lips to the Bard’s head and flicked his eyes up at Patton when he began talking again.

“You’re gonna be okay. We’ve just gotta get goin’ now.”

In all honesty?

The Bard had long since calmed down. He was now drunk on happiness. Yeah, sure, he was still really pissed off at the Thief, he’d ruined his make up, punched him in the face, made the Child cry, generally put a damper on the whole situation, but that was to be a problem for another day. The arms wrapped around his waist, the body he was snuggled into, the hand that was running through his hair, it all made him feel so secure. So loved.

He didn’t think Deceit was much of a physical person, but after this? The Bard would have to remember to go to the snake more often for cuddles.

He closed his eyes again and inhaled slowly.

Patton always smelt like cookies. Chocolate chip cookies and occasionally chai, depending on what he’d baked recently. Sometimes of just sugar.

Deceit smelt a little more just like a person, yeah, but the scent was carefully interlaced with hints of lavender and jasmine. Did Deceit wear cologne or something? Maybe he had a self-care routine. The Bard would also have to remember to have Roman ask Deceit if he wanted to do masks and manicures together.

The could just not follow the Thief. The Bard could invite Patton and Deceit to his home, hidden away amongst the pages of this story they’d written, watch a movie and bundle under some blankets together. He could just take the time and space to be content. He could take in the pleasures of life!

But, alas, it was curtains for those dreams.

“Alright, Padre, I’m good. I’m gucci,” the Bard murmured, “It’s just so nice to be held. King Cobra, honey, were you always this warm. And you’re so lovely, Patt-puff, I could fall asleep right here.”

Patton snorted, catching the briefest glimpse of Deceit’s bright red face. “You can have all the snuggles you want later, kiddo,” he patted the Bard’s chest again, “You just gotta—”

“Wait.”

The change was immediate. The Bard stood upright, pulling his face out of Deceit’s chest and turning his head around. “Someone’s singing.”

Patton and Deceit shared a confused frown. Faintly, they could hear a voice, far, far away, but growing louder.

“For years, I’ve roamed these empty halls~!”

“Yeah,” the Bard tapped Deceit’s back and pulled away, both other Sides letting go finally.

There was still mascara dried around his face, and the eye that’d been punched was swelling and angry red, but the Bard didn’t seem to care. Patton rubbed his arms, missing the warmth and scolding himself internally for wanting something so unrealistic. He nudged Deceit, who was grumbling and stretching his arms, and both looked up.

In the Bard’s hands was the ukulele, forgotten in the earlier argument, and he twirled it before lifting it to his chest. Strumming a few precise chords, he continued the song, like a bird returning a call.

“Why have a ballroom with no balls~!” he twirled in place and sprang toward the sound.

He sure seemed happier now. Patton smiled, watching him perform, and rested one of his hands on his cheek.

Roman was just so full of life, always. It was astounding.

Wait, the Bard was moving. Patton blinked, looking up to find Deceit watching the Bard, mesmerized as well.

….Ah.

So Deceit liked him, too?

That’d complicate things. Deceit and Roman were a little friendlier, and Patton definitely didn’t want to get in the way of anything, if it made them both happy. If there was anything. Of course there was something. Deceit and Roman were both so charming, how couldn’t there be something? That’d be like giving someone chocolate without the flowers on Valentines day!

“Finally they’re opening up the ga~ates~!”

Distantly, they heard someone echo the same line, getting closer. It was the Roman version of echolocation.

Oh. What if Deceit’s story about Roman and the pit was just a cover up for him being in Roman’s room? What if they’d been together?

Patton shook his head. Imagining worries like that was just gonna get his head spun in a tizzy. He chuckled to himself at his pun, though gained no mirth from it, and tugged Deceit’s hand.

“C’mon, we’ve gotta follow,” he said.

Deceit blinked, looking at Patton, then back at the Bard, who’d already dance-walked his way halfway down the street. “Ah, of course,” he hurried after the Bard, faster.

He didn’t want Patton to say anything about the staring and, frankly, Patton didn’t want to say anything either. Nor his own disappointment of missing them both.

“There’ll be actual, real-life people~”

The Bard strummed, twisting down a road, and Deceit and Patton followed.

They were probably being led to another Roman, since they could make out his voice as it grew louder. Were there any more Romans, though? Or, well, any new ones.

“It’ll be totally strange!”

The other singer was just behind a corner.

“Wow, am I so ready for this change~!”

“Will you cut it out! It’s bad enough we’re out in public,” the Artist grumbled, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie, “And now you’re drawing everyone’s attention.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is my voice bothering you?” the Playwright shot back, bumping his hip against the Artist’s as he shouted, “‘Cause for the first time in forever~! There’ll be music, there’ll be light!”

Deceit and Patton blinked, watching the two bicker as they walked closer. Neither of them seemed very scared of the world around them; in fact, both were looking around at the scenery, as though noticing it for the first time. While the Artist was trying to hide, his hood up and everything, the Playwright was walking around with a coat slung over his shoulders and otherwise in the same outfit they’d seen him in the other day.

The Bard had stopped just around the bend, standing in the pathway and bouncing on his feet with an excited grin, as though waiting for them to notice him.

“Uh, yeah, a little. Shut up.”

“I, wh—” the Playwright’s singing screeched to a halt as he glared at the Artist. “How?!”

“Sounds too much like my voice.”

“We are the same person, you dunce, how—wait,” the Playwright looked up and squinted, “Oh, it’s Bard.”

The Bard struck a pose, pointing his ukulele into the sky like a sword. “It sure is! It’s been so long, Playwright, Artist!” he dashed forward, ignoring the Artist’s shouts of “NO” and the Playwright’s confused spluttering as he hugged both with his arms, “I’ve missed you both so dearly!”

He spun in a circle once before pulling away, smoothing their sides down with a hand. He then leaned forward and pecked their cheeks, one after another, shocking them both just enough that neither pointed out his black eye.

This again? It was much too high energy for Deceit, not as he had to study this...what, fifth Roman? Fourth? How many had he met, by now? Jesus, how many were there. He slunk back, behind Patton, letting the moral side do the talking.

“Good to see you again, Playwright! You too, Artist,” Patton smiled at the Artist, who flinched back and tugged the side of his hood.

Patton wasn’t about to bring up the fight from earlier that morning. The Child said, on their way out, that the Artist didn’t have much outside his art. Maybe it wasn’t good for him to be yelling at them, it was definitely upsetting. And Patton was definitely hurt. A little betrayed. A little confused. But that didn’t mean Patton would be angry. He didn’t hold grudges very well.

“Um,” the Artist looked down, twisting his foot against the cobblestone path. He couldn’t, in his right conscious, not apologize immediately. “Yeah. Dad, I just–I’m really sorry about this morning. I over reacted, and I shouldn’t have snapped at you and Logan and Child. I’m, uh, it was dumb. I’m sorry.”

There it was. Out in the open.

The Artist didn’t want his perfection at the expense of love.

A hand rested on his shoulder and he twitched. It felt almost numb, like television static. He looked up to see Patton smiling widely at him, almost beaming. “You’re not dumb for having your own boundaries and caring about what you make. Yeah, it was….” his smile faltered slightly, reminded of how terrified he’d been that the Artist would actually stab them with a palette knife, “I can’t say it’s okay. But thank you for apologizing, and I’m sorry Logan and I made you uncomfortable.”

….The Artist really hadn’t expected that. His cheeks tinged with a bit of a blush as he looked down again, still fiddling with his hood.

Patton always knew what to say.

“I don’t wanna just brush over this issue.”

The Artist closed his eyes and exhaled. Patton chuckled to himself, but watched the Artist closer. Um. Maybe he didn’t understand?

Patton didn’t want to actually offend him, not right after that apology.

“Get it? Like a paint br—”

“Patton. Darling. While I appreciate the sentiment, I must admit that our relationship is a,” the Artist opened one eye, a tiny smile growing, “Work in progress.”

The Bard and Patton both hooted, the Bard plucking his ukulele once. “Good one!” Patton patted the Artist’s shoulder, “Thought I was gonna start crying there for a second, but I’m glad that was a pun, too!”

“They’re ridiculous,” the Playwright murmured.

“He’s you,” Deceit gestured to the Artist, then to the Bard. “And so’s he.”

“My cross to bear, I suppose,” the Playwright said with a tired shrug.

They’d both stepped back when the Artist apologized, leaning on a wall and watching the scene. It felt like a personal moment of reflection, in all honesty. And they didn’t have the lack of apprehension that the Bard displayed, listening in and looking between the two.

Deceit exhaled, leaning back. So Patton was bonding with yet another figment. Big whoop. No water off his scales, no sir. He turned his head, lazily looking around

Hang on. Those men were guards.

Alarms blared in his head as he reached over to the Playwright. “Guards,” he hissed.

A quiet tongue click signified that the Playwright saw them. “Patton, Artist, Bard, we need to go,” he moved toward the group.

The Bard looked back, eyes widening as the guards began marching towards them. “Son of Hephaestus.”

The ukulele disappeared from his hands as he grabbed Patton with and the Artist with the other, tugging them along. The street was populated enough, characters and people walking around, but they were parting for the guards like a predator through a school of fish. Where were they supposed to run to? The Bard knew the city well enough, but all of the maneuvers he used to escape danger wouldn’t work with such a long procession. Not to mention that the Playwright and Artist had never been in the town. In an altercation, none of them would stand a chance; all the real fighters had left.

Patton winced. What were they gonna—

“Hey, babes, lookie here!”

“Oh, thank fucking Pollock,” the Artist breathed. “It’s our idiot.”

Patton and Deceit both snapped around, looking forward. There was Thomas. Not. Not Thomas. No, it was one of his characters, wearing a black leather jacket and a messenger bag, holding a half-full Starbucks venti cup with some unknown iced drink within. Somehow, the paper labeling him as “Sleep” was still firmly taped to his chest despite being held up by a single, half-inch piece of scotch tape. But, you know. Big mood.

He waved them forward again from the doorway he was standing in. “C’mon already, we don’t have all day,” Sleep chirped again, waving a little faster.

You know what? Deceit was going to question this one. He’d been through a lot, this past day. Roman wanted to play a medieval theme, but had random modern appliances strewn about? Yeah, he’d accept that. Virgil throttled him? Sure, yeah, that would happen, that was still within the last 24 hours.

But this?

“Hey, Sleepytime Tea,” the Bard hummed, pecking Sleep’s cheek as he ducked past. “Thank you for the rescue!”

Deceit pointed at Sleep. “That. Is. One of our characters.”

Patton grinned, holding his other hand and pulling him along. “Mhm! Child said they’re all around the Imagination. Ooh, I’m excited to meet him!”

Oh, yeah, that was super explanatory! That solved ALL of Deceit’s problems! That made total and complete sense!

“Sleep,” the Playwright greeted, nodding to him as he slipped past.

Deceit was going to go absolutely feral one of these days.

Sleep tilted his sunglasses and grabbed Deceit’s back. “Let’s go, girls, into the lil’ house.”

“Remy,” the Artist murmured, pulling Patton in.

Sleep nodded to him as well, shoving Deceit into the room and closing the door. He threw two locks, then spun around to lean his back against it.

All five of them watched, varying levels of panic on their faces, while Sleep took a long sip of his coffee. They could definitely hear the guards interrogating someone outside, so it wouldn’t be long until they were approached.

“Are we gonna—” the Bard began, only to be silenced by Sleep raising his hand.

He pulled the straw away from his lips and exhaled.

“Oh my God,” Deceit mumbled, “And I thought Roman was dramatic. Holy shit, you’re a character.”

“Oh, honey, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Sleep lowered his sunglasses and winked.

He fixed them, raising his drink to behind the group, further into the building. “Alright, lets go. You all, like, super do not want to run into those guys.”

Sleep led the way. The room they’d entered into was a large foyer, to a house but not. He led them down the hall, up some stairs, up some more stairs, and then out into a bridge connecting this building to the next.

The Playwright nudged the Bard, once they were out on the bridge, and pointed silently at his eye.

That was right, the black eye and smudged make up was still clear as day. He couldn’t be having that. The Bard nodded and pressed a hand to his face. The make up vanished, reappearing as though it’d never been smudged with his tears. Carefully, he also pressed onto the bruise, and the skin all sank back in and flattened out into regularity.

It was best to not show his damage. Bad enough that he’d cried in front of the other Sides. He wasn’t about to walk around with an actual wound. It would bruise over regardless, there wasn’t anything he could do about that, but Roman didn’t want them to see him as anything other than, well. That depended on the Roman. The Bard didn’t want them to see him as anything other than beautiful.

Patton and Deceit didn’t notice. That was fine, perfect on all three Romans’ accounts. They followed right behind Sleep, the other three trailing at the rear. They’d already seen most of the Imagination, having been there when it was built (though building and navigating were two different skills); for the other two, everything was starkly new, even Sleep.

The Imagination did have more structure than they’d seen the other day. Arches, bridges, buildings that looked more defined.

Something certainly changed in the world. Maybe it was the same thing that caused the Imagination to have a regular day/night cycle? Deceit pursed his lips and summoned his notebook again, jotting down some notes. A curious world indeed.

Meanwhile, Patton was just getting excited. It was Sleep! He was an older character than, well, Patton! Granted, Patton wasn’t exactly a character, that was more so the length of time he’d been in front of the camera. But he could still remember the day when Roman pitched him — a sassy Sue, dressed to the sassy nines and going out to fun sassy parties while getting no sleep whatsoever. Logan might have thought it was on the nose to just tape a piece of paper to his shirt, but, hey, it worked!

“You’re Sleep, right? It’s really nice to meet you,” Patton said, bounding a little closer.

Sleep glanced back at him with a small smile and waved two fingers, a lazy salute. “Right back at you, Patton. Heard you’re a ball of punny sunshine — that’s the Morali-tea, sis.”

Ah, well, his reputation precedes him. Patton laughed, holding the wall, and Sleep grinned. “That’s a good one!” he covered his mouth and rubbed his cheeks a little, continuing. “Where’re we headed? Ooh, and also, do you….have any other name? Than Sleep?”

“Nah, nowhere in particular,” Sleep waved his hand dismissively, “And kinda? Emile calls me Remy. So does the fandom.”

“I think the fandom coined that one,” Deceit said, “A pleasure as well, Remy.”

Sleep put up a peace sign in greetings. “Yep. If you wanna go by names, then it’s, like, definitely all good to call me Remy,” he shrugged. “Either works. What can ya do.”

What can you do indeed. “Alrighty, Remy, you didn’t answer my first question though! I don’t think we’re just going to nowhere,” Patton picked up the conversation again.

“Oh, that. Right now we’re just walking around until I get the all clear.”

“The all clear,” the Playwright repeated, eyebrow raised.

“Mhm,” Remy took another sip of his drink and shrugged, “There’s a Starbucks down the hall if you nerds wanna get drinks, too.”

He pointed down a hall and — wait, where in the blazes were they?! Deceit stopped focusing on Remy’s back and looked around.

At the moment, they were in what looked like it could be a church, with stained glass windows and a high vaulted ceiling, save for the fact that it had no pews and was more like a crossroads. Some people walked past, shuffling around in the sides. Some of them looked like Thomas, actually. Possibly characters from other vines? Not all of them were marked with signs so clear as Remy’s.

It seemed that the Starbucks idea had been shot down, because Remy shrugged and led them to the left. As soon as they turned, though, his phone buzzed.

“You’re in my world now, not your world~ And I’ve got friends on the o—” Remy held the phone up to his ear, “Hey, girl, what’s up?”

He held up his drink, stopping the rest of the entourage, and nodded his head. “Mhm. Sounds gucci, I’ll bring these bitches back ‘round. See you in five,” he hung up quick and slid his phone back into his pocket.

Remy pivoted on his heel, facing the group once more with a broad smile. All his dramatics really reminded Patton of Roman, which was making him kind of sad. He missed his energy.

The Bard’s hand nudged Patton’s subtly, and they laced their hands together while Remy began explaining. “That’s the signal, back around this way!”

“Wait, are we walking all the way back?” the Artist asked, anger mounting in his tone, “Remy, you can’t be serious. Can’t we go to Emile’s office or something?”

“Nah, nah, I’m dropping you all off somewhere else. Emile’s got appointments all day today, anyway,” Remy shrugged, “If you wanted to hang with him so bad, you shoulda left your house.”

The Playwright snickered behind a hand, and the Artist elbowed him in the side. “Now, now, no fighting,” Patton said, eager to break up another dispute before it began, “I’m glad you’re out now.”

To that, though, the Artist just pulled his hood tighter around his head and mumbled incoherently. That was okay, it diffused the tension! Better awkward silences and mumblings than any actual physical fighting.

He didn’t even want to think of the implications of the Thief punching the Bard. What was that, Roman punching himself? Why would he be so okay with that?

Like, Patton knew. He’d been upset with himself since they met with the Playwright at the very, very, very beginning. He should have known Roman was self-conscious. It wasn’t the best kept secret.

Agh, he promised himself that he wouldn’t think about it! They were going to get Roman back! It was going to be okay, gosh darned it!

“Patton,” Deceit’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, “Come now.”

Deceit carefully touched Patton’s free hand, wrapping his fingers around Patton’s.

The Bard was right, Patton decided right then and there. Deceit was surprisingly warm.

Patton gave his hand a squeeze, turning to him with a smile. “Thanks,” his voice was quiet, just for the two of them.

Deceit, human-side-of-face lightly flushed, returned the smile. But why would Deceit be blushing at him? Patton’s mind trailed off, just as Remy stopped the group yet again.

“Alright, we’re he~ere!” he sang out the word “here,” throwing open a door.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Patton lifted a hand, pointing fingers directly with the man standing in the opposite doorway, holding two pizza boxes and wearing the same blue polo, grey sweater, and khaki pants that he usually donned. The man dropped the pizzas onto the table besides himself and pointed as well.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Deceit groaned.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” the Bard fist pumped into the air.

Dad Guy smiled first. “I think I need new prescriptions! You’ve got me seeing double!”

A laugh from the kitchen indicated that he wasn’t alone. Patton grinned back, shooting Dad Guy some finger guns. “You can try mine! My prescriptions are Patton-edly perfect!”

“Awh, c’mere kiddo, great to meet you!”

“‘Kiddo?’ Haven’t you felt my shirt? It’s all Dad material right here.”

“The only material you’re gonna need is some new material! Can’t go around reusing old jokes!”

“Well, an old man’s gotta have old jokes! Double the puns and double the Dad!”

Remy patted Deceit’s back and gave him a sympathetic shrug. “I’ve gotta dip, gotta meet with some other people around the town. You know, midday naps and all that. Good luck with that,” he gestured to the two dads, who were exchanging one liners back and forth.

Deceit only responded with a glare that begged for mercy.

Remy laughed.

The Playwright walked past Patton and Dad Guy, into where Teacher Guy was sitting at another table, a stack of papers beside him that needed hypothetical grading. There’d been too many people, too much going on in the past day. He needed someone who he could trust to be quiet if needed and, thankfully, Teacher Guy asked much fewer questions than Logan.

The Artist motioned for Deceit to follow him to the other table with the Bard, who was already opening the top-most pizza box and stealing a few slices. The trio actually stole the entire top box and slunk away to another room, just up some stairs, while the other four traded silence and puns. There was a balcony opposite of two doors, presumably bedrooms, and they sat outside on the ground, huddled around the large box of pizza.

It was probably lunch time. They didn’t have Logan to tell them that eating on a schedule was a vital part of setting one’s internal clock, so the only indicator that it was “lunch time” was the tinge of hunger in each of their stomachs.

“If this hasn’t been a day,” the Artist sighed.

“Oh, definitely. The Thief punched me earlier,” the Bard laughed a little before biting into a slice, talking through the food. “Y’ kn’w, ah d’n’t e’he’ i’.”

Deceit snorted, looking away and laughing into a hand while the Artist reprimanded him. “Oh my God, chew your fucking food.”

The Bard rolled his eyes and swallowed. “I mean, I didn’t expect it. To be honest, I always forget that the Thief’s a violent one.”

“I always remember. Ever since he glared at me ‘first time we formed, I’ve been a little iffy about him,” the Artist waved his third slice in a lazy shrug. “You’re lucky he doesn’t hate your guts.’

“Oh, you’re lucky that absolutely no one hates yours.”

“Really? Thief and Playwright always seem two strokes away from stabbing me.”

“That’s because they don’t understand art. I know they love you! And that’s why WE love each other, remember?” the Bard took a bite out of the Artist’s slice and ignored his offended huffs, “And Deceit! How are you feeling?”

Deceit blinked. He’d been taking in the conversation, trying to dissect the differences between every iteration of Roman.

The Artist and the Bard were an interesting pair. They seemed to be so similar, yet so distinctly different, what with the Artist being an introvert and the Bard more extroverted. The Artist working with physical mediums whereas the Bard performed. But those glaring differences seemed to mask differences in desire, intent — that’s what Deceit had to focus on.

“Hey, Bruce Banner, come back. We miss you,” the Bard patted his knee with a smile. “Are you feeling okay? This has probably been quite the journey, especially with how fast things’ve been happening.”

“Well,” Deceit should indulge the Romans, if only for a little, “It has been. I haven’t spent this much time with….any other. Sides. In a while.”

The Artist nodded sympathetically while the Bard blinked. He tilted his head. “Oh. I thought you and the Dark Sides...? You know? Worked together more.”

Deceit shrugged. He wasn’t revealing anything. “Perhaps we do. In that case, then, it’s the longest I’ve spent with such good company,” he smiled coyly at the Bard.

It took a few seconds, but once the Bard fully interpreted what he said, he flushed almost as bright as his waist sash. He giggled, running his hands through his hair and swaying from side to side.

The Artist beside him also turned red, but just squinted tiredly at Deceit. “C’mon, you don’t have to play us,” he grumbled quietly, “The Prince isn’t here.”

“I know Roman’s not just a prince, he’s much, much more,” Deceit leaned on his hand, resting his chin on it as he watched the Artist.

“Anyone’d know that. He’s an artist. A bard. Playwright, thief, dragon, damsel, child, he’s all of us. But he’s all still a big dumbass,” the Artist ran a hand through his hair, pursing his lips in frustration, “You don’t have to pretend to love us or anything.”

It was Deceit’s turn to be confused. He frowned, leaning back a little in contemplation. Here he thought he was being obvious. And while staying behind the guise of secrecy benefited him greatly, if it was upsetting Roman this much….“Do you really think everything that I say is insincere?”

“Well….” The Artist looked away, staring down the Bard, who was still a bubbly and flustered mess, “Yeah. ‘Course.”

….That did make a little sense. Deceit scooted closer to the Artist. “May I touch your face?” he asked, voice soft.

The Artist’s eyes flicked back up to him quickly before he looked down at the pizza box. There wasn’t any harm. And….he couldn’t say he didn’t want to be touched more. “Sure.”

Deceit lifted a hand to cup the Artist’s cheek, cradling his head as gently as he could. Unconsciously, the Artist leaned into it, exhaling slow as to not lose his self control.

This was….a dream. It had to be. Because Deceit had wished for this for so long, and he was very used to not getting what he wanted. He just had to keep it together.

“Roman, darling,” to that, even the Bard stopped swaying, listening to what Deceit said, “I can’t say I’m the most honest person, but I can promise you this is no lie.”

With that, he pressed a careful kiss to the Artist’s left temple. The Artist’s eyes went wide as saucers as he realized, with an incredible start, that Deceit. Had just kissed him. Deceit had just kissed him, one of the saddest versions of Roman in this miserable little game.

The Bard covered his mouth with both hands, but even that couldn’t hide his elation.

“Holy fuck.”

He fell backwards, laying on the ground with his arms splayed out. It felt like he….was whole.

The Damsel looked out the small window of his room, squinting into the bright light between the bars.

What had just happened? He reached up to his head and ran his hand slowly through his hair, grazing over his left temple.

It felt like someone had just….

Deceit smiled a tiny bit, watching the two Romans collectively lose their minds. He was adorable when flustered. “You’re beautiful. Every bit of you,” he said, trying to force the Artist, force Roman, to understand that he was being truthful.

Even if it was a part of Roman, it still meant the world for Deceit to know that Roman knew. They could write this off later, write it off as some —

Deceit wanted to scream. Hang the fuck on. Oh, holy shit. He’d just admitted it.

He leaned back, trying to keep his movements as slow and deliberate and not-panicked as they were before, but holy shit. He’d just said it. He was in love. It was a round-about statement, series of movements and signals, but of course it was, with him.

He was in love with Roman — was it just Roman? It was a different feeling, but the same feeling across the board. God, Deceit didn’t want to deal with this, not on top of everything he was learning about the Imagination and the other Sides. He lifted a hand to his face and rubbed his scaled forehead, tugging his hat down just a tiny bit more. At least the Romans didn’t notice his sudden and extreme change in posture.

Their collective stupor was disturbed by a shout from below, and then the Playwright calling them downstairs.

“ARTIST! WE FUCKING FORGOT TO TELL THEM!” he snapped, “GET DOWN HERE, HURRY!”

The Artist swore, clearing his throat and standing up. “We, uh, we need to go downstairs, go ahead,” he motioned for Deceit and the Bard to leave, “Ah, fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” the Bard picked up the empty pizza box and looped his other arm around Deceit’s, much to the snake’s chagrin. “And we’ll let you tell the others later, okay? We don’t want you to feel uncomfortable at all.”

That was….kind. Deceit didn’t know how to respond, he’d kind of expected the Bard to excitedly blurt it out at some point. Perhaps he would. Deceit couldn’t trust that.

He nodded, and the Bard grinned. He led the way down the stairs, barreling through the kitchen and setting the box down before entering the main room again.

The Playwright, Patton, Dad Guy, and Teacher Guy were all sitting around in a circle. The second couch was empty, so the Bard pulled Deceit onto it, paying the utmost attention. The Artist just sank into the couch on Deceit’s other side, eyes locked onto some papers on the table. Two of them were open, letters that had been opened and were now folded back into the envelopes they’d come from. Only the letter’s receiver’s name was visible, but that gave quite a bit of backstory by themselves.

Cordial invitation of Dad Guy to the Entry Gala — in celebration of Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s welcome to the Imagination.

Cordial invitation of Teacher Guy to the Entry Gala — in celebration of Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s welcome to the Imagination.

On the stack’s top was another letter, with a red kiss mark where the stamp would typically go.

Honorable invitation of Patton ‘Morality’ Sanders to the Entry Gala — in celebration of your welcome to the Imagination.

“Ew, he kissed it,” the Bard bit his lip and looked up, scanning the Playwright’s face. “What is it? I’m guessing it’s from Dragon?”

The Playwright nodded to Patton, and he picked up his invitation and cut it open. Quickly, his eyes scanned it over, and a frown overtook his features. “This’ so weird, a gala? Like a party?”

“That’s my suspicion,” the Playwright said, then rubbed the back of his neck. “We all know, er….”

“Roman’s got a flair for the dramatics,” the Artist continued, voice soft, “Dragon got a lot of that.”

“But not all!” the Bard raised his hands up in Roman’s typical princely pose, grinning cheekily.

The Playwright and the Artist both rolled their eyes. “Yes,” the Playwright said. “It looks as though Dragon is trying to lure us all to the castle.”

“....Gosh,” Patton breathed, setting the invitation down on the table, so everyone could read it.

His hand was shaking a little. He did want to see the Dragon, of course, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous about the implications of the letter. And a part of him hoped that….it hadn’t been the Dragon who sent it. Maybe the other Romans were wrong. Maybe the Prince, HIS prince, was there.

To Patton,

Roman ‘Dragon’ Sanders invites you to a masquerade gala celebrating your entrance into the Imagination, as well as Logan, Virgil, and Deceit’s. Please provide your own costume and mask, as this will be a masquerade ball.

It will be a grand evening of food, dance, and excitement, made all the better with your attendance. Entry at the Drawbridge gate tonight, gates open at sundown.

No RSVP required.

See you soon, my love.

Prince Roman

“Oh, fuck him, he’s just gonna sign it like that? What a lilly-livered jackass!” the Bard’s nose scrunched up.

He leaned back again and turned up his head, repulsed by the Dragon’s blatant arrogance. And the gall, calling Patton his love! It was like he got all the pride and none of the brains! What the hell! The Bard almost wanted to trade him one bit of self-indulgence.

Oh, he might have to throw some of his own punches, once he came face to face with the Dragon. What a disgrace to the Prince’s memory!

“It’s not somethin’ to celebrate,” Dad Guy said, a small smile on his face. The way his brows pinched definitely betrayed his worry.

Teacher Guy still patted his shoulder and shook his head. “Not the time, Dad.”

“Sorry, you know I goof when I’m nervous.”

“Hang on,” the Artist said, rereading the note, “Playwright and my invitations were different.”

He reached into his hoodie pocket and took out his own invitation, spreading it out on the table.

To Roman ‘Artist’ Sanders,

Roman ‘Dragon’ Sanders invites you to a masquerade gala celebrating Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s entrance into the Imagination. Please provide your own costume and mask, as this will be a masquerade ball.

It will be a grand evening of food, dance, and excitement — with a very special and very familiar guest. Entry at the Drawbridge gate tonight, gates open at sundown.

No RSVP required.

Come prepared.

“He’s….so he’s pretending to be Prince,” Deceit bit his tongue. “That has got to be who the guest is, in your invitation.”

He picked up both letters, turning them around to face himself as he turned over the phrasing in his mind. This was almost his area of expertise. The minute changes of word, the different references to the Prince, everything was catered to the recipient of the letter. Probably as a means to get whoever the letter was sent to do go.

Him and Patton both couldn’t hide their disappointment, but….it did make sense, in his world. The Dragon was manipulating them into attending, offering whatever he could.

“I don’t get it,” the Bard said, crossing his arms, “What’s the point of this? A ball? Like, that sounds flipping sweet, but for what?”

The Playwright responded. “My hypothesis is that it’s to get us all in one place. Every one of us figments, and every Side, but I don’t understand why he would—”

“Okay, so he’s gonna kill us on the dance floor,” the Artist said, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“Why do you think he’s inviting us, then?” Teacher Guy asked, “I mean, we’re probably going? Not much danger for us, and, well….”

“I wanna dance with you,” Dad Guy declared, throwing his arm around Teacher Guy’s shoulders.

Teacher Guy smiled, patting Dad Guy’s shoulder fondly as he turned to the Playwright again with more questions on his tongue. “It’s a free party. Knowing that we’re all Thomas, there’ll probably be pizza. Why do you think he’s throwing it all like a party? And what’s the point of having the costumes?”

“Dramatics?” the Playwright offered, voice weak in confusion. “The Dragon would have to figure out which costumed Thomas-esque people are the Sides, are us, and are, well, characters.”

The Artist exhaled sharply. “This is a long way to go for aesthetics. That can’t be all he wants.”

“Either way, we should go,” Patton said, voice soft, “We….Deceit, we were all talking about this. We’ve gotta talk to the Dragon.”

Deceit looked up from the letters, meeting Patton’s eyes with understanding. He nodded slowly. “I agree. No doubt it’s a trap. Of course, of course it’s a trap,” his brain was working at the speed of light, trying to figure out the smartest passage through this, “But we do need to meet him.”

A beat of silence followed that declaration.

Patton was afraid. They couldn’t not meet the Dragon — he was a part of Roman! And every part was valuable and loved and he needed to hug — but the way that the Artist curled in on himself, the way that the Playwright was squeezing his knees with his fists, the way that the Bard was trying to smile, as though it could cover up all of their fears…. It was going to be okay. It was all going to be okay. He was going to talk to the Dragon and give him a scolding. And, if he managed to get through to the Dragon, then it might help the other Romans not be afraid of that part of him. That was what mattered most.

Of course this would be difficult. Deceit would have to tread carefully. He didn’t want to risk any more damage to Roman’s psyche. He almost wanted to forget that kiss, that stupid kiss, because now it was dwelling too heavily on his mind for him to focus on the task at hand. This gala, this party that the Dragon was throwing….did he have the Prince? None of the Romans knew where Prince had gone. The way they talked about him made it sound like he was dead.

There was no way he was dead. And there was no way Deceit was going to let any of them get hurt, either.

At least the other Romans weren’t arguing back this time around. Hopefully they’d been convinced of this turn’s necessity.

God, he was so happy he didn’t have to talk in circles around this topic.

“Well, um,” Dad Guy fidgeted with the sleeve of his cardigan, “I don’t know what you all wanna do now. I’ve got cookies in—”

A sharp knock at the door shut him up. They all froze, huddled in their seats and couches. Deceit actually drew one of his daggers, poised to fight if need be. This was poor timing for the guards to have found them.

The door flung open.

There was Remy, glasses slipping down his nose, panting. He fixed his glasses and waved an arm across his body.

“Guys. You’re gonna wanna come with me, pronto,” he pointed at Dad Guy and Teacher Guy, “Emile needs them. You’re good.”

“Awh, but I just made cookies,” Dad Guy said.

“We can bring them the cookies later,” Teacher Guy offered, to which Dad Guy immediately brightened up, clapping.

“You’re right! We’ll bring you cookies later!”

“What happened?” the Playwright asked, fixing his glasses.

Remy usually didn’t run. He liked to take his time, make things easy for himself. What might have caused this sudden conundrum?

“Can’t answer that right now, we’ve gotta get going,” Remy wasn’t even holding a Starbucks cup as he fixed his glasses and motioned to them again, “You really need to see this.”

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that-writer-who-never-posts · 6 years ago

Text

A second chance

Hello! I got this beautiful request from @imnotusedtobeingloved thank you for trusting me with something so deep!

Prompt: The reader’s chances of surviving a family decease are small, but Tom is not giving up on her. (I changed a bit, hope you don’t mind!)

Warnings: Mentions of cancer, death and lots of angst. But it does have a happy ending!

Ps: when I say football, I mean soccer, call it whatever you want, but Tom is british, so...

like 3k words of pure drama.

---

Looking at your kids, your 6 year-old daugther Elena and your 4 year-old son Gael, you could only find genetics awesome. How your love could create a perfect mixture of you and Tom... But you prayed every second of your life they wouldn't have to deal with some of your genes.

-Flash back on-

Before you could get over your grandma's death because of stomach cancer, your mother had to start treating the same problem.

Her situation was pretty stable. The doctors believed she would be cured easily. When she came back home, your family threw a party for her.

It was a small family reunion at the living room of the house where you grew up. Your mom really seemed healthy, specially after she saw her grandchildren.

But when you came in, you saw some of your relatives looking at you with an worried expression. Some asked if you had lost weight and some decided it was better not say anything. You told them you were just tired, it was a busy year at work and dealing with your mom's decease after losing a person you loved wasn't easy for you. You heard Tom talking to someone and telling them he worries too, but he just can't get you to eat.

But you pretended you didn't hear anything. All the people around you knew about your family situation, they should understand.

You were sitting with Tom and watching the kids play on the floor, surrounded by your family, when you started to feel nauseous. You stood up and went to the bathroom to wash your face with some cold water.

But on the way, you felt that wouldn't be enough, you had to throw up. You got on your knees in front of the toilet and tried to think of something you ate that could have caused that. But you realized you haven't been eating anything different... You had barely been eating, you never felt hungry anymore. After throwing up two or three times, you opened your eyes to find a pool of blood in front of you. You stood up and looked in the mirror. You looked absolutely terrible, the color of your skin disappeared and had blood on your lips. You started to panic. You couldn't let your mom see you like that, you didn't know what was going on, but couldn't be good, and the last thing she needed right now was to worry about you.

Taking a deep breath, you washed your face until there was no blood left, but your color wouldn't come back.

You headed to the living room and was relieved everyone was watching the kids run around the place, so they didn't notice you. But Tom did. "Y/N?" Tom standed up and went to meet you because you were walking too slowly. He grabbed your hands and touched your colorless face. "What happened, love? You're so cold!"

"I have to get out of here." You whispered weakly.

"What?" He could barely hear your voice.

But when you tried to speak again, your vision started to go black and the last thing you felt were Tom's arms not letting you hit the ground. You woke up on the hospital and started to cry.

"Y/N..." Tom was sitting on the chair beside the hospital bed, and when he heard you crying he joined your side in one jump. "Shhh... It's okay, darling. I'm here."

He sat on the bed with you and brought you to his chest.

"I ruined everything." You cried. "How is my mother?"

"She was really worried. Everyone was " He knew he couldn't lie to you. "But now we're here, you're going through a few exams and you're going to be okay."

"The kids?" You tried to calm yourself down, but you kept remembering how many people saw what just happened.

"They are at your mother's house. They will be fine." He kissed your forehead. "Y/N... You have to tell the doctors exactly what is going on."

"I just felt nauseous."

"Y/N... There was blood in the sink, if you don't tell the truth, the doctors won't be able to help you." You spent the rest of the day on the hospital, Tom insisted the doctors should do every exam they could.

But you started to become anxious. Your kids were probably scared after seeing you pass out like that, and taking that long to come back would make it worse. You just wanted to leave, but Tom was there, holding your hands and trying to calm you down. Seemed like hours passed, when a nurse entered the room, followed by the doctor who had the results in hands.

The doctor seemed a little upset, and was definitely choosing each word carefully. As he spoke, your heart started to race, you knew where he would end up. You heard all that before.

"I'm really sorry, it's never easy to say this." He said with a sad smile. "But you have a stomach cancer. It's a genetic condition. The good news is that we discovered it really early, so the treatment is more likely to work."

You felt you would pass out again. Why? Why was your family cursed like that? You were so young and had so many plans. You had two beautiful children to raise and a dream to grow old with your husband that would never come true. Tom was really strong, though. The doctor left the room and you stood there in silence for a while, but he was holding you the entire time.

"You're going to be okay. Your mom is doing great, I bet you can do even better, you'll see." He said, but you could hear he was holding the tears. "No, Tom." You replied emotionless. "It's fine, I think deep down I knew it. I just... Didn't think it would be so soon. Maybe I get to see Gael learning to read, he will be so proud when he does. But I won't be able to help Elena when a boy breaks her heart. Oh, Tom... Please, never let anyone break their hearts..." "Stop saying that..." He can't help but cry now. "You are going to be here for them. You are going to be right here beside me. You are going to fight this and win, okay?"

"I'm scared." You whisper.

You never saw that man so deeply hurt in your life. But he would be strong for both of you if he had to.

-A few months after-

You stood in front of the mirror, finishing to get ready to take your kids to the park.

"Have I told you that you look absolutely stunning with short hair?" Tom's head appears on the bedroom's entrance.

"Pretty much 5 times everyday." You smile at him. "At least I'm not bald anymore."

When you had to shave your head for the chemotherapy, you felt horrible. You already looked sick, but without your hair, you thought you would feel the ugliest woman alive. But you really didn't, it was a lot easier than you thought. Only because Tom would compliment you whenever he laid his eyes on you, he would also proudly talk about you on interviews, saying how strong and beautiful you were.

Your treatment made you very weak and you lost even more weight. Was hard making small children understand that some days they wouldn't be able to see you, some days they would, if they wore a mask and didn't touch you, or you would get sick. When you had to stay at the hospital, you would recieve drawings and homemade gifts to tell you how much they missed you. All that only gave you more strenght to survive and be the mom they deserved again. Tom's fans were also important to you. Even the ones who didn't like you would send support messages and tell you they really hoped you would get over all this. There were hashtags trending on almost every social media to let you know you weren't alone. "Are you sure you want to go, love?" Tom asked on a serious tone. "I'm just going to sit there." You smile at him. "I can do this. I could use some fresh air."

He was worried because on the last few days you would get breathless really easily. Simply going from your bedroom to the kitchen would obligate you to sit down to recover. But you would see your doctor in 2 days, so there wasn't a reason to run to the hospital at that moment. It was a vey beautiful day. You placed a towel on the grass and sat on it. "Let's play football, mommy?" Gael said excitedly and it broke your heart. You used to play football with them all the time, now you could barely stand up and he didn't understand why.

"Gael..." Tom said when he noticed your sad expression. "We have to let mommy rest as much as we can so she will be good soon to play with us, remember?"

The little boy was disappointed, but nodded.

"I love you, mommy." Elena said wrapping her little arms around your shoulders. "I would wait a miiiiiiillion years to play with you."

Gael joined the hug and you smiled widely. Tom watched the scene absolutely in love.

"Alright..." You say wipping a tear that escaped. "Then you better go pratice, cause when I get back, I won't let anyone win."

"Let's go!" Elena gasped and grabbed the ball, running with her brother. "Come on, Daddy!"

Tom looked at them, then looked at you a bit lost, he thought he should stay with you to keep you from getting sad and lonely.

"Go, have fun." You winked at him.

He laughed.

"You better get well soon, our team needs you." He smiles and turns around to join the kids.

The sadness for not being able to play with them disappears soon. This decease taught you to appreciate more all the things. Just being able to leave your bed and watch the three people you love the most having fun was enough to warm your heart.

It was funny watching they play, Tom was so much taller than the kids, you were afraid he would kick them, instead of the ball. At some point, the game became just the two kids running around your husband. Pretending it was a very hard task, he grabs one kid with each arm and starts tickling them.

You couldn't help but laugh at their adorable laughs. You kept laughing until you started coughing. You got so angry, it was like no fun was allowed for you. You began to cough harder, covering your mouth with your hand. When you looked at your hand, you felt a shiver on your spine.

Blood. Again.

That was the day you received the news that the cancer was now on lungs. You weren't getting better, it was just spreading so fast the doctors couldn't detect it. -Flash back off- And there were you. Having to live with a heritage your family never wanted to give you.

Ten days passed since that day at the park. On the first day, the doctors told Tom that your only chance at this point was going throught the strongest treatment they had. But for someone who was already fragile because of several sessions of chemo like you, the side effects could kill you even faster. The chances of success were near 5%, but without it, they are 0%.

And since the process was so dangerous, you couldn't get a single visit. The time you weren't knocked out because of the medicines, all you did was cry because you wouldn't be able to say goodbye to your family.

The doctors didn't know if the treatment was working so far, but they knew your body wouldn't be able to take much more of that. And that's why you decided to do something.

When the nurse entered the room to serve you dinner, always the same tasteless soup because that's all you could eat, you asked her a favour. "Please..." You asked with tears in your eyes. "Can you bring me a pen and some paper?"

"Do you want me to give someone a call?" She offered kindly.

"No..." You reply. "I need to write this. On my own."

The nurse nodded and did as you asked.

You looked at the blank paper for a moment. You knew what you wanted to write, but you also knew you would have to use an amount of energy you didn't have. You didn't care, they deserved it. You wouldn't go anywhere without a proper goodbye. Dear Tom,

I could write a million pages and still not be able to tell you how sorry I am for breaking your heart. I tried. You know I did. But know that I would never be here writing this if it wasn't for you. And know that the last forces I have I will use to think about you. The only better way to go would be if I could see you one last time, but I prefer that you remember me in a completely different way.When our babies grow up, tell them that we didn't have much time together, but I loved them for a lifetime. Let my mom know that she was a far better mother than me, because she survived all this, while I left my children.I hope you keep your promise, and never let anyone hurt them, like I'm doing right now.Tell all your fans that it was a huge honour to have their positive thoughts. Don't be sad for Tom, guys. He will find someone and be happy again. I mean it, my angel. I love you more than I could ever tell you, and that's why I don't want your life to end when mine does. The day that smile of yours cease to exist, all the beautiful things in this world will lose their magic. You were the most beautiful dream I ever had. But now I have to wake up.

Yours even after my heart stops beating,

Y/N. --- You wake up in a different room. Was it afterlife? Did you die? You start to freak out. Did you finish the letter? What if the nurses found it but didn't give it to Tom? And is this heaven or hell? Looks like an hospital bed to you.

You stared at the ceiling for a while. Whatever reality this was, you liked it. You didn't feel any pain.

A few minutes after, you heard the door opening and the nurse who gave you the paper came in.

"Mrs. Hiddleston?" She called excitedly. "Are you awake? Can you hear me?"

You looked at her confused and nodded.

"Tom." That's all you could say.

"He's outside, darling." The nurse's smile fadded. "I... I entered your room the other day and found a letter with his name on. I thought I should give it to him."

You sighed relieved.

"He was absolutely devasted when he read it." She continued. "He tried to come into your room, we had to call security."

You watched her with wide eyes, waiting for more information.

"He lives in the waiting room now." The woman adds. "Everyday when I arrive he is already there, the other nurses were saying that he leaves around 7pm to see your kids at your mother's house then comes back a few hours later."

You felt tears rolling down your cheeks. You hated to imagine how much he was suffering, and the kids had lost both their mom and dad at once. "Don't cry!" Her smile came back. "You'll be able to see him today, right after the doctor sees you."

"What happened?" You ask weakly.

"You passed out because of the medication. The doctors realized it was attacking your healthy cells, instead of the cancer cells." She explaned. "But that's because you don't have them anymore. The treatment was a success. When the exams came out, nobody believed it. Doctors from other hospitals came to hear about your case."

"I'm cured?" You smiled widely.

"For now, your exams don't show anything wrong." The nurse confirmed. "But we'll keep you here for a while, just to make sure." --- A little more than a year passed since you left the hospital. You joked you never really left, because you had to come back every now and then to make sure everything was fine. But you couldn't complain, hearing the doctor say you were cured a hundred other times felt as good as the first. "Mom, you're a lot better on football than dad." Elena commented as your family arrived at the park.

"Ohhhh did you hear that?" You laugh.

"She's just happy you're going to play with us today, darling." Tom rolls his eyes. "She doesn't mean it."

"It's true, sometimes daddy tickles us and that's cheating." Gael added to his sister.

"Sorry, babe." You shrug. "You clearly lost this one."

"Lost the discussion but will win the game. All three of you against me." He positions the ball in the middle of an imaginary field. The match started and you felt nothing but pure happiness. You could run with them, feel the freedom that was back to your life. You could stand still and watch your happy family. You could even help Tom tickle the kids and be accused of treason because of that.

But most importantly, you could be the wife and the mother you thought you wouldn't live to be.

---

Taglist:

All works:

@theoneanna @inlovewith3

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#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston oneshot #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston angst #angst #loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki angst #loki fanfic #loki imagine

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lisatelramor · 7 years ago

Text

Not Left To Stand Alone Ch21

Takumi was sitting at the kitchen table with both Kudo daughters when Saguru went looking for him. Ran was elsewhere in the house and he had passed Kudo in the study on his way. Takumi looked up from watching the girls draw at the sound of Saguru’s borrowed cane. Saguru hadn’t stopped to think much about how the last twenty four hours were affecting Takumi before, but now that he was sure Kuroba wasn’t going to die at any moment, he could see signs of strain. Takumi looked like he had slept worse than Saguru, dark circles under his eyes, and there was a listlessness to how he had been watching the girls. It shifted to focus and worry as Saguru entered the room.

“Is Kid…?” Takumi asked vaguely.

“Better,” Saguru said. “He won’t be moving for a while, but for the moment he is stable and aware enough.”

“Good.” Takumi slumped. Midori elbowed him as he covered part of her paper and Takumi shifted away without complaint. “Before we go, can I see him? Just… The only time I saw him up close, he was bleeding out…”

“Of course.” Seeing Kid alive if not well might help ease Takumi’s mind.

“Kid’s the thief Tou-san’s always chasing right?” Midori asked. “The one in white?”

“Yes, Kid is a thief in white,” Saguru said.

“Oh. I like him. He left Kaa-san flowers once,” Midori said drawing a flower then, probably meant to be one of Kuroba’s roses if the red color was anything to go by. “It’s sad he got hurt.”

“He’ll get better,” Hanae said. She smacked down the green crayon she had been using to grab a brown one. Stripey brown lines branched out from the mass of green swirls. “He always gets away. Tou-san says.” Her sister nodded like this had to be the only conclusion since Kudo’s word was truth.

“I’m sure he will,” Saguru said hoping it would be the truth. He squished the part of his brain reciting facts about recovery times and infection rates, about how his own infected bullet wound had ruined his knee worse than it would have otherwise been. He was allowed to hope against the odds. Saguru looked to Takumi. “Did you want to see Kid now? I know we can’t stay here much longer. Aoko-san is worried and I still have to turn in my report on last night.”

Takumi nodded. He followed Saguru from the kitchen. “Hakuba-sensei,” Takumi murmured as they neared Kid’s room. “What are you going to put on the reports?”

“Kid escaped. He was shot down, but the site was clear when we arrived.” Saguru glanced sidelong at Takumi’s troubled expression. “That Kid is most likely injured but got away with the gem. Neither of us saw anything.”

The frown deepened. “…even to Kaa-san?”

“No, I’ll tell her the full truth.”

“…It feels wrong,” Takumi said so quietly Saguru almost didn’t hear him. “Kaa-san always told me it was important to tell the truth to the police.”

Saguru sighed. “Sometimes it’s more complicated than truth or lies. Sometimes truths can kill and lies save, and sometimes they make things worse. It’s something you’ll have to judge on your own. In this case it’s better not to say everything for both Kid and our sakes. We did help a criminal after all.”

“To save his life,” Takumi said. “And Kudo-san helped too.”

“Exactly.”

Takumi frowned at him, but he set the topic aside as they reached Kid’s room. Kuroba was asleep again, not peacefully though. A grimace of discomfort showed on the small part of his face not hidden by the mask. Takumi took one step into the room and stared like he was trying to decode something from Kuroba’s mass of bandages.

“I…somehow I didn’t think it was possible for Kid to get hurt badly,” Takumi admitted. “He’s practically a legend at this point.”

“It’s easy to forget there’s someone mortal behind the mask,” Saguru said, because he had almost forgotten as well over the years, more intent on Kid than remembering Kuroba existed behind him.

There was scuffling behind them and Midori and Hanae poked their heads into the room. They craned their necks at Kid in the bed.

“He’s not very big,” Hanae said, sounding disappointed.

“Are you supposed to be here?” Saguru asked.

“Kaa-san didn’t say we couldn’t,” Midori said. She tugged on Takumi’s arm and lifted her hands so she could be held up. Takumi did, though he looked at Saguru like he was trying to figure out if this was okay or not. Midori made a soft unhappy sound when she was high enough to see Kid clearly. “He looks sad.”

“He’s a thief. He should be sad because he’s in a detective’s house,” Hanae said. “Once he’s healthy he’ll probably get arrested.”

“I’m gonna draw him a picture.” Midori wiggled in Takumi’s arms until he set her down again and she pointed at Kid. “What does he like?”

“Er. Gems?” Takumi said.

“Birds,” Saguru suggested. “He keeps doves.”

Midori nodded and tugged her sister away. Hanae went complaining the whole way that, “He’s a bad guy, Midori, why are we cheering him up?”

Takumi looked after them, his face scrunched somewhere between bewildered and reluctantly amused. “I’m kind of glad I don’t have siblings after all,” he said.

Kuroba shifted in the bed, discomfort growing on his face. It made Saguru want to smooth it away but it was far far better than the blankness of unconsciousness. “Have you seen enough?” Saguru asked.

Takumi looked back at Kid. It was surprising that he didn’t cross the room and try to peek under Kid’s mask. At his age, Saguru wouldn’t have hesitated to satisfy his curiosity. “Yeah,” Takumi said. “I’ve seen enough.”

***

It was a quiet trip to Aoko’s. They both had thoughts on their mind, and the closer they got to Aoko in Ekoda, the more nervous Takumi became. Saguru didn’t blame him; he was also nervous to see Aoko face to face. An angry Aoko was more than a little intimidating. He shouldn’t have to worry about dodging mops these days at least.

Aoko was on them within seconds of Takumi opening the front door. Saguru didn’t think she’d slept at all last night from the looks of it, her eyes red rimmed and hands just a bit shaky the way limbs got after too much caffeine and adrenaline mixing badly together. Her hair was a mess of wild tangles that made her look larger and Saguru found himself taking a step back at her desperate expression. She crushed Takumi into an embrace the moment she was within arm’s reach.

“You absolute idiot,” she growled. “I raised you to be smarter than that. You could have died.”

Takumi tentatively hugged her back with the arm not trapped between their bodies. “I’m sorry, Kaa-san.”

“You’d better be you brat,” Aoko choked. There were tears in her eyes. Saguru looked away. There wasn’t anywhere to go to give them privacy. “You’re grounded. Indefinitely.”

Takumi nodded into her shoulder, clinging closer.

“You’re okay? You’re not hurt?”

And this time Takumi choked on tears. “I’m fine. I’m…I was so scared…” He shifted so he could hold her with both arms just as tight as she was holding him. “The building exploded and I didn’t know where you were. People were screaming and you were still in there. And then Kid got shot and there was so much blood.” He was crying in earnest now and Aoko held him close as he let go of all the fear and worry from the last twelve hours.

Aoko rocked back and forth on her heels as Takumi cried. There were tears in her eyes but she was glaring fiercely past his shoulder at nothing even as her voice was gentle. “It’s over now. I’m okay. You’re okay. It’s all over.” Saguru wasn’t sure how long they held each other as Saguru tried to blend into the wall. Eventually, Takumi’s tears slowed and Aoko’s rocking stopped and they pulled apart. Aoko wiped tears from Takumi’s face with her handkerchief. “Go to the kitchen and get yourself a cup of tea,” she said to her son. “It will help.”

Takumi nodded and slid his shoes off before walking toward the kitchen, still wiping at his face.

Aoko looked after him like she wanted to snatch him back into a hug again. As soon as he was out of sight though, she rounded on Saguru. Worry morphed back into rage. “You should have said the moment you realized he was on site.”

Saguru winced. “Aoko-san, it was only a few minutes before the heist began. I only glimpsed him on the security cameras; I had to go see that it really was him.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

It was, but what would Aoko have done? Stopped coordinating the entire heist? She was the central driving force, everyone else pivoted around her and Saguru wasn’t really needed anywhere. “I found him and I tried to get him out before the heist,” Saguru said. “It was inevitable that we got caught up in the fallout.”

Aoko shook her head. It had been inevitable though, if not caught in the heist itself, then the crowds of panicking people instead. “Then you should have called as soon as you were out of danger. Or as soon as Kid was out of danger, dammit. You’re such a fucking hypocrite. Or did someone else make me promise I’d call if I knew anything about Kid so we could keep each other up to date?” She snorted at Saguru’s flinch. “I thought so. God I’m just so…Rrgh. Fuck Kid.” She ran her hands though her hair, tangling it further.

“I should have called,” Saguru said. “I forgot. I am sorry.”

“Fat lot of good sorry does anyone,” Aoko said tiredly. “How bad?”

“Expect months of recovery.”

“Damn it. I hate him. I hate him so much.”

You do but you don’t, Saguru thought as she wrapped her arms around herself.

“You’re not going to tell me where he is, are you?”

“It is probably best for everyone involved if you don’t know where he’s at for the moment.” It wasn’t that he thought Aoko would arrest Kuroba or actually try to kill him, but having Aoko show up right now would be the last thing Kuroba needed for his health.

“Fine.” Aoko closed her eyes. “Fine. Can you leave? Please.”

“I’ll leave immediately.” He did just that, backing away toward the door only to be stopped by Aoko’s voice when he touched the doorknob.

“Hakuba. I need your report on the heist within the next twenty four hours. Write an official one and one for my eyes only please.”

“Of course. …May I ask the casualty rate from last night?”

“No one died. I have two officers that are in critical condition and half a dozen others hospitalized. Five people in the crowds ended up in the hospital from the panic. Dozens more have minor injuries.”

“Thank you.” Kuroba would hate to hear this. “Goodbye, Aoko-san.”

She didn’t say anything else, so Saguru left. He wondered if there would only be animosity between them after this. Aoko was not a friend, but he hoped he had not forever lost the possibility of her becoming one.

***

Saguru stopped at his apartment before heading back to Kudo’s. He stood in his entryway for a good five minutes feeling the emptiness of the room pressing in on him. It struck him again that he’d almost lost Kuroba last night. There would have been no more evening conversations over tea or random gifts of food left on his kitchen counter or that specific double tap on his door that when Kuroba was using his manners instead of barging in. Just four short months and Kuroba had become a center point in his life.

There was something wrong with him because the thought of losing Kuroba felt almost on par with losing Mel had been, with only a fraction of the history to account for that feeling.

Saguru stood in the shadows of the entryway where the light from the afternoon sun didn’t reach and considered it rationally; love was love regardless of the time experiencing it. And he was in love with Kuroba. There wasn’t a point in deluding himself to that reality anymore. The emotions wouldn’t go anywhere. Saguru didn’t expect them to and friendship was enough between them, but he couldn’t deny the existence of his emotions anymore either.

The soft golden light of afternoon peeking through the window didn’t really fit the weight of this revelation. But then so rarely did nature choose to align with emotional turmoil outside of popular media.

Saguru loved Kuroba and had almost lost him; if it was in his power, he would not lose someone he loved like that again.

***

Saguru broke into Kuroba’s apartment to gather changes of clothes and other things Kuroba might need. Kuroba’s things joined Saguru’s own in a large cloth grocery bag repurposed into a makeshift suitcase. He wasn’t sure all what to bring; clothing and toiletries were obvious, but anything else was anyone’s guess what Kuroba would want. Saguru added the mp3 player he found on Kuroba’s bedside table. With a concussion he wouldn’t be able to do anything mentally taxing for a while, but music could straddle the line between entertaining and relaxing.

He took the time to update both his mother and Kuroba’s on the heist fallout, and then he was off again, headed back to Kudo’s home.

Kudo raised an eyebrow at Saguru’s bag but didn’t comment on it. It was rather rude for Saguru to invite himself to stay longer, but rudeness be damned, he’d sleep better within shouting distance of Kuroba.

After settling his things into a guest room offered by Ran and getting Kuroba’s things to him, Saguru sat down with Kudo and his wife in their study, children thankfully elsewhere for the moment.

“Takumi-kun got back to his mother in one piece?” Kudo asked lightly.

“More or less. I am afraid I’m in bad graces with her at the moment as well. I imagine this will make parent teacher interactions even more awkward in the future.” Saguru sighed. “Takumi-kun is my student,” he added when Kudo raised an eyebrow.

“An interesting bit of luck ending up the teacher to Kaitou Kid’s son.”

“You have no idea.” What sort of expression would Kudo make if Saguru revealed they were neighbors? That would be giving too much away though, and they were at least pretending that they couldn’t easily pick apart Kid’s identity like freeing a boiled egg from a fault-littered shell.

“…You know Kid pretty well, right?” Kudo asked.

“Well enough.” Not well enough; Kuroba kept himself a step away even as he had opened up around Saguru. There would always be depths to him that Saguru wouldn’t be allowed to see.

“How would you say his life is?”

Kudo didn’t look like he was prying to find clues. He looked contemplative, a crease between his brows and a quirk to his lips that spoke more of concern than a desire to tear away the last veils of Kid’s identity. How odd. But then, if Kuroba could become interested in Kudo’s wellbeing after years of interaction it wasn’t really that odd for it to go both ways. Saguru had felt that way even at the height of their rivalry. “It’s very busy,” Saguru said honestly. “He works, has a son, and is Kid. I sometimes wonder at how he functions with as little sleep as he seems to get. He’s a good father even if a bit misguided at times. He’s lonely. He seems to have many acquaintances and few close friends. I’m not sure he knows how to stop wearing masks anymore, or if he’s afraid of what he’d find if he put the roles away.” Kudo’s expression softened into something like sadness or perhaps compassion. If Saguru remembered right, Kudo was someone who caught his criminals, but didn’t let them throw their lives away. It was something that had tipped Saguru’s opinion a bit more toward favor. Even if he had once pointed a gun on Kid. “Why?”

“We’ve talked a few times. He’s come close to breaking before…I was wondering if it was still true or if life got better since we last talked.”

Ah. Between Aoko’s divorce and Jii’s death, he could see it straining Kuroba to near shattering. It was a miracle he hadn’t broken unlike Saguru’s own breakdown. “I’ve seen him smile and laugh and mean it. There are bad days, but good ones too.”

“I’m glad.” Kudo shared a smile with Ran then and Saguru again got the feeling that he was missing something vital in Kuroba’s history with the Kudo family. There were possibilities he could speculate on, but without proof he wouldn’t put weight into any of them.

But there was Kuroba now to think about. The past would keep its mysteries. “He’s going to be recovering for a long time,” Saguru said. “Can you keep him here until he can move on his own?”

A wealth of meaning shifted between Kudo and Ran before Ran shrugged slightly. “It isn’t a problem,” Kudo said. “He’s welcome here.”

“And so are you,” Ran added.

“Thank you.” It was more than generous for them to do this. “Kudo-san, about last night…the crash site; it’s been cleaned up?”

“I called in a few favors,” Kudo said. “There might still be traces of blood, but nothing usable to track back to him.”

Good. Saguru nodded. “That should buy some time then… The ones who set everything up are likely wondering if he lived or not.”

“No body means they’re going to play it toward him living,” Shinichi observed. “The gem?”

“Kid hid it.”

Kudo nodded. “I was surprised he went with the roof, but I guess he wasn’t given much choice in his escape route. The bombs pretty much ensured he could only flee up, and where the bomb damage wasn’t there were officers cutting off his route. The weather was too perfect for the glider too. It felt like an obvious setup.”

“He was flying a bit off the best direction of the wind. That might have been what saved him.” Saguru tried to recreate the trajectories of Kuroba’s entrance wounds. Gliding the direction he had been, with the angle of the wounds… “Kudo-san, do you happen to have a map? I’m curious what buildings the sniper might have been at. I know Ao—Nakamori-keibu had a watch at certain perimeter trying to keep the chance of a sniper down.” Saguru stumbled over Aoko’s name and pretended he hadn’t.

Kudo pulled out his phone, fiddling with it to bring up a map of the area. He set it on the coffee table between them. “This is the museum,” Kudo said. “And Kid left in this direction…” His finger scrolled the map forward.

“You found us about here, correct?” Saguru asked, pointing to what appeared to be the correct alley.

“Yes. Depending on Kid’s speed, he’d have to have been hit within this radius to crash there…” Kudo traced a circle above the phone.

“Meaning his shooter had to be within a certain radius to hit him.”

“Exactly.”

“Fifteen hundred meter radius?”

“Extend it a bit further to be on the safe side…” They bent forward over the phone, studying it intently. “The damage is worse on the right side.”

“Half from the crash, but I concede to your point; the bullet wounds come from that angle. It was a taller building. The entry wounds were almost even with his height.”

“Mm. Maybe a bit from below…too straight for his leg wound otherwise….” Kudo shifted the map around before they both agreed on a potential area. “I know this area. The tallest building around there is an office building.”

“It’s outside of Nakamori-keibu’s radius too.” Saguru felt the tingle of satisfaction that piecing pieces together always gave him. It was paired with the gut feeling that the sniper’s location had been important. He zoomed closer. Ambrosia Industries? It was foreign, and it also sounded vaguely familiar for some reason… He’d had a case that involved them at one point, he was pretty sure, but it had to have been a very long time ago.

“Something wrong?” Kudo asked. Saguru looked up into sharp-focused eyes. He also looked like he was on the edge of some sort of connection.

“I’ve heard of the company before.” When though? Not in Japan, in London, back, far back.

Kudo took the phone and looked the company up. “Ambrosia Industries…Not much on them.”

“They make cosmetics don’t they?” Ran asked, leaning in. Saguru had almost forgotten she was there. “Sonoko has a few things from their brand. She said they had the best anti-aging creams.”

A cosmetics company? That sparked something. Saguru took the phone from Shinichi. Yes, under the international subsidiaries was a different name. Elysium. “I had a case almost fifteen years ago looking into an employee from Elysium. My client thought that the employee had stolen her research data, but there hadn’t been any clear trail to link that they were using it in their formulas.” He frowned. “That was the case I got my knee shot out.” A bit further down on the list was another name he remembered. He gripped the phone tight. “And I was investigating a theft from Progenetics almost a year ago when…when my partner was killed.”

“That’s…” Kudo’s brow furrowed.

“It is entirely possible for that to be circumstantial and unrelated.” Saguru handed the phone back. The rest of the names didn’t spark any memories, though there was always the possibility that there were other connections. “It makes me wonder, though, as all three instances involved gunmen.”

“I have come across a few of these places,” Kudo said slowly. “Murder cases.”

Of course murders. Kudo worked almost exclusively with murders. “Thefts for me.”

“They were mostly crimes of passion though; the setting didn’t seem important to them. There was one that was one employee killing the other though. They never explained why, just turned themselves in.” Kudo tapped his chin.

“It would be a bit odd to use the roof of a place you were associated with to attempt a murder,” Saguru said.

“Or it could be the perfect cover because it would be unexpected.” Kudo shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Right. Kudo had taken out an international crime organization before he was twenty. He was probably something of an expert on shadowy dealings and large scale crime rings. “Kudo-san, how much do you know about what Kid is searching for?”

“Only that it is a large gemstone and that there is another interested party.”

“There was more than one Kid,” Ran added softly.

Kudo’s eyes flicked to her and he nodded. “The first Kid was active about seven years internationally before he vanished. The second Kid appeared eight years later and was much younger than the first. A protégé perhaps, since his methodology and skills are very similar to the first. With the sort of people that follow Kid, I can guess that the first Kid either died or was crippled.”

“He died,” Saguru said bluntly. “In what appeared to be an accident. A very public accident. His identity was found out by the organization chasing him and they ensured he wouldn’t be able to defy them again. How Kid has avoided something similar happening, I have no idea. Perhaps because he has made no effort to stand out in his civilian life.” It was too easy to picture ‘accidents’ happening to Aoko or Kuroba or Takumi, leaving nothing but blank eyed corpses behind. With Aoko it would not even be hard to arrange. Perhaps they had already tried, but with all the danger already present in Aoko’s day to day life, it had fallen into one more close call among many.

“The second Kid was a teenager when he first appeared,” Ran said. “Both Shinichi and I got close often enough to figure that much out.”

“He was sixteen when he first took Kid’s mantle.” All three of them winced at the implications. It was funny in a way; at the time it wouldn’t have felt odd. They had all been teenagers that ran into danger on a regular basis. The violent side of humanity and its dark possibilities were very real presences and dangers in their lives. And yet at sixteen they had felt adults already. At over thirty, looking back they had all been barely more than children dealing with things that they would have tried to protect their younger selves from now. “He’s spent the last decade and a half trying to take down a crime organization on his own.”

Kudo and Ran exchanged a look, Kudo’s questioning, Ran’s accepting. “I owe Kid,” Kudo said after a moment. “Not many people know this, but he helped several times in taking down the Black Organization. Not always willingly.” Kudo rubbed a hand through his hair. It stood up at the back, for a moment making him look much more like Kuroba. “I said I wouldn’t get involved in anything at that scale again if I could help it.” Kudo looked Saguru in the eyes, clearly struggling.

Oh. “He’s bad at accepting help,” Saguru said drily, “but at this point I don’t think he has much of a choice. Kudo-san, I don’t want to see Kid die. I’ve permanently lost the person I care for most in the last year, and then alienated the majority of my friends through my own actions; I don’t intend to lose anyone else. If that means coming out of retirement and going against a crime organization of an unknown size and reach, I will do it. I have far less to lose these days than I did before.” As he said the words, the resolution that had been building in him since he knew Kuroba had survived solidified. He had failed to save Mel or get him justice. His detective pursuits may very well have gotten Mel killed. But if there was any chance that his skills could help Kuroba, he would use them. Even with such a large chance of failing. “Would you be willing to help me in this?”

“I…” Kudo trailed off. He looked at the phone in his hands. “You’d be surprised how many detectives care about Kid. More than we should considering we try to catch him time after time. He causes chaos and dangerous people follow him, but Kid doesn’t use guns, does his best to not hurt anyone be it bystander or officer doing their job…” It was hard to be indifferent or remain angry at someone you interacted with for over a decade even if said interactions were anything but friendly. “I care. I’ll hide Kid here until he recovers completely if that’s what he needs. But…”

“I’m not asking for you to take an active role rooting out the shadows,” Saguru said. “I need your mind and your connections; those will be more than enough. I intend to do as much legwork as I can myself.” He was aware of the irony, a man with a cane doing the legwork, but for Kuroba he’d do it.

Ran touched Kudo’s elbow. Kudo swallowed thickly. “I can provide connections and help talk over whatever you find. I’d offer more, but I can’t be open about working on this, not with a family.”

“I understand.”

“I can make sure Kid is taken care of in the meantime,” Ran said.

Saguru nodded, grateful his mind spun plans, poked at connections as he closed his eyes. Fragmentary details stood out at him—snipers and connected companies and the multitude of wounds Kuroba has had since Saguru returned to Japan. Aoko’s angry face, Kuroba’s locked bedroom door and equally locked closet, accidents that were not accidents, Jii’s death, Kuroba Chikage’s absence from this heist, Kudo’s half smile when he talked about Kid and the years spent chasing him. Nothing clicked yet, but it was a start. “We will have to talk to Kid. Undoubtedly he has evidence we can work with.” He had almost two decades to throw himself at the problem; he had to have gotten somewhere with it. But Kuroba wasn’t a detective, and he didn’t have the connections he needed to take down a large scale organization. He was smart enough that he likely put most of the pieces together by now, but that didn’t mean he could do anything with it on his own.

“He’s probably asleep again,” Ran said. “Ai-san has him resting as much as possible so it might be a while before you can talk.”

“I understand. He has a lot of recovering to do.” And there were other things Saguru could do. Namely talk to his father; he wanted his perspective as well as Kudo’s on taking down a large scale criminal enterprise. And there was one other thing to take care of while he was at the manor. “I think,” he said slowly, “I have one more errand to do today after all.”

“Okay,” Kudo said. “Do what you need to do. I have a write up to do for the Kid task force, so I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

“Ah.” Ran pulled out a slip of paper. “And our cell phone numbers if you need to get in touch.”

“Thank you.” He quickly entered the numbers into his phone and sent along his own contact info in a text. “Let me know if anything changes while I am gone?”

“Of course.” Ran smiled. Kudo was already lost looking up something on his phone again, the sharp thinking face firmly in place.

#detective conan #magic kaito #nltsa #fanfiction #not left to stand alone #My writing

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ethompson928 · 4 years ago

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We are Bulletproof (BTS GANG AU) Chapter 32

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

"So, there you have it princess, you wanted the truth...you got it"

Allie still couldn't see or hear past her own thoughts. Her head was swimming and all she could do was look at Hoseok. Her heart felt like it had ripped into two and that the solid rock on which she was able to stand on was crumbling beneath her feet and she was tumbling down into an empty pit of despair. The look on his face confirmed everything, all he was worried about now was the fact that he got caught and there was no sorry or pleading with her to make her believe that it was all a lie.

He allowed her to believe that he might have felt something for her even though she was falling deeper and deeper in love with him. The world stood still and silence engulfed the already awkward situation.

Namjoon smirked knowing full well that he had won; game over, checkmate. If there was one thing Namjoon could pride himself on it was that he won. Fair and simple. He didn't care who got hurt as long as he was the victor standing at the top. He still had his chance to finish the deal and to walk away victorious.

"So...you've all been lying to me?" Allie asked, there was no emotion in her voice. She couldn't even bring herself to look the boys in the eyes to see if they were lying or telling the truth, she just knew. Silence welcomed her once again as she took it as a confirmation, a confirmation that Jimin and Taehyung were just pretending to be her friend to draw her in. Hoseok had just pretended to fall in love with her to get her to put her guard down and Jin pretended to be that figure of sweetness that made her relax into the situation she had found herself in. Suga and Jungkook only seemed to be the two genuine ones, they both hated her guts and whether Jungkook wanted to admit it or not, he couldn't be nice to her. He was just doing his job. The job that Namjoon told him to do.

"This way." Namjoon told her gripping her arm and leading her from the room past the quiet boys and towards the door that led to the stairs. In all of the built up anger, frustration and emotions that were swarming in her head she ripped her arm out of Namjoon's grip and shoved Hoseok against the wall behind him, her arm holding him up against it but he didn't even try to fight back.

"Did you lie to me?" She shouted in his face. There was no answer. He couldn't even look her in the eye. He knew he betrayed her and the guilt was just too much. He gambled with the girls heart and now it had all fell apart.

"Answer me!" She hit the wall by his head with her free hand. Hoseok finally let his eyes meeting her shaking ones. "Why did you lie to me, you played me like a violin...allowed me to feel something for you when I had nothing or no one around me...you wormed your way in...and I actually thought I found myself falling in love with you!" Hoseok's eyes were telling the story his face couldn't. "And you never felt anything for me? Did you? I was just a piece in this big game just so you could come out the best. You never loved me, hell did you ever even like me? You let Namjoon rule your life and you can't even make your decisions. I never want to see you again! Don't talk to me ever again." She backed away from him and Namjoon once again grabbed her arm, as he moved to take her out of the room he swiftly turned to his sub-ordinates and demanded; "This ends now...call him and tell him to meet us at the rendezvous point."

Before Allie was even allowed to contemplate what he said, her arm was roughly pulled and she was moving quickly being herded like a lamb to the slaughter. She was brought back to the stairs and prodded to begin climbing. Namjoon was being quiet, but Allie could feel the tension and anger radiating from his body and if his grip on her throbbing wrist was anything to go by, he officially had enough. As they emerged back into the main area of the house he planted her on a nearby chair and knelt in front of her, his grip still firm. She could hardly look him in the eye he was that angry. His hand shot out and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up to look at him instead of the salmon coloured carpet at her feet. She winced lightly at her sensation that shot across her face. He silently watched her, his dark, intense eyes searching her scared but gentle eyes. She could feel her breath coming out slightly shaky, she didn't even realise that her hands were shaking as Namjoon never released his strong hold.

"Now, you're going to listen to me for once in your goddamn life." He spoke slowly and lowly, sending a spark of fear down the back of Allie's spine. She felt like she couldn't really breath in the intense moment. All those days trying to put up a strong front and trying to put on this mask, becoming someone she wasn't, living a lifestyle that would never be for her and it was all crumbling down around her to reveal what she truly was. A young, scared girl who had gotten herself in way too deep and was struggling to stay above the waves to get a breathe of air before being forced back into the depths where she felt like she couldn't breath. It was hell.

"Don't speak." Namjoon demanded. She had no plan to, her fear was physically locking her in the seat. "Now. I tried to give you a chance and you ruined it. You are going to listen to every little thing I say and you are going to follow orders without complaints. You will wait here until I come back. If you disobey me once...I am going to put a bullet through Jung Hoseok's head before you can even blink...and then once you've seen the light leave his eyes, I'll finally shoot you too and be rid of you. Got it?"

Allie nodded, fear evident in her eyes. Yes Hoseok may not have been entirely true about his feelings but she had come to care for the man, flaws and all. That was something she wouldn't be able to throw away at the drop of a hat. He was her saving grace and while he may have used her, she was inwardly grateful for everything he had done, whether the returned emotions were real or faked.

"He said that he will be here in one hour." A voice interrupted the fragile atmosphere as Taehyung stepped into view of Allie's line of vision. He seemed hesitant and nervous to speak to his superior. Namjoon's jaw clenched and his head turned to face his subordinate. "Tell him he has 20 minutes, he needs to stop trying my patience and if he brings back up then tell him that the girls brains will be decorating the living room wall and her head will be sent 1st class."

Taehyung disappeared as quick as he had came and silence filled the room once again. It was clear the rest of the members of the group were avoiding Namjoon like the plague and he didn't seem to care.

"Stay here." He ordered before finally giving up the metaphorical staring contest that they had between each other. As soon as he stepped out of her personal space and walked off adjusting his cuffs of his shirt only then could Allie let out the breath that had been caught in her throat. Tears daring to leak over the edge and her head was spinning. The room was now deadly silent and she was the only one here. She could hear voices in the distance and a door slamming somewhere down the hallway. But she kept her eyes forward looking at the wall opposite her.

All she had to do was follow his orders. That's what she had been doing right? This whole time Allie had been nothing but complacent, she knew she was way in over her head and she messed up so many opportunities to escape but she ruined it when she got emotionally compromised. "I just want to go home..." She whispered to herself for company as she felt slightly alone and vulnerable. Looking back over the conversation, or rather dramatic monologue that Namjoon delivered she recalled her 'best friend' Ayami stabbing her in the back and letting her loose to the wolves. Why would she do it? Over the years Ayami had been nothing but a faithful best friend and Allie had never known about her knowing any of these boys or that she had another group of friends outside of their small friendship circle.

Another slammed door moments later brought Allie out of her sorrows as she perked her head up slightly so most of the room could be kept in her peripheral vision. Jimin was walking towards her, with an expression she couldn't place. "Namjoon sent me to get you" was all he said as he took her arm and lifted her from the chair. She noted how gentle his touch was and he didn't pull her, he allowed her to walk next to him and just guided her. It was worlds different from the strength that Namjoon displayed when he held her arm, the redness was still there.

Jimin led her to the front door, as he pulled it open Allie sworn she thought she heard him mutter a sorry as he took her outside. His grip tightening only just whenever Namjoon came into view. The rest of the members of Bangtan were present and silent as their leader walked confidently over to her. His hand raised and Allie winced moving her face away from him as he advanced. A low chuckled emitted from his lips and he simply brushed the tatted hair that clung to her face. "You know, I was really starting to like you, but I knew there was something off. Guess that little fire in you just didn't want to go out...you know, you could have avoided all of this if you just submitted to us."

"Now why do I feel like you're lying? You were never going to keep me around." She said, summoning up the last of her courage. Namjoon twitched in annoyance. He licked the inside of the mouth and let out a 'tsk' before taking her from Jimin.

"Remember what I told you." His eyes flicked from her to Hoseok and back, a small smirk gracing his face when he saw her eyes flit to the ground and her teeth grazed her bottom lip.

Pulling her further out into the outdoor space the sound of tires could be heard faintly rolling along the stones that covered the ground. A black car finally rolled into view and stopped across from the gang. The door opened and a foot hit the ground. Finally the figure emerged and Allie laid eyes on the man she had not seen since she was young.

It was her father.

It was Park JinYoung.

#bts #bts scenarios #gang au #mafia au #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #Jung HoSeok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #mafia #kpop

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