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fanficimagery · 4 years

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Another One Bites the Dust pt. 2

Summary: In which you accidentally run into the new guy, only for him to take an interest in you.

Words: 6.6K Warnings: Violence and swearing. A particular scene here happened pretty early on when Billy first moved to Hawkins, but for the sake of this imagine just pretend it happened a little later on.

Billy Hargrove. The boy was an absolute dick to most, but you and he meshed pretty well thanks to the meddling of your best friend Heather. There were days where his dick-ish attitude just rubbed you the wrong way and you gave him the silent treatment until he cut his shit out, and fortunately for you he was quick to remedy his wrong the moment you shrugged off his arm when he was back in one of his playful moods.

You and he became the school's latest will they or won't they duo, and unfortunately for you almost the entire school was leaning towards when you would hook up, not if.

The school day has finally ended and you're more than ready to go home, even if it means riding the school bus since your car was in the shop. Both Billy and Heather were absent, and you had to endure muttered catty remarks, and you're just so over it. No matter how much you denied anything going on between you and Billy, the female population of Hawkins High still held a grudge against you for taking his attention.

Walking outside, you're heading towards the faded yellow buses when blaring music gets louder and louder, and gravel and dust is kicked up when a familiar blue Camaro skids to a stop nearby you. You cough, waving a hand in front of your face to fan away the dust, and then roll your eyes at a smirking Billy. "Don't you look awfully perky for someone who called in sick."

He chuckles. "Get in. I'm not letting you ride the bus."

Normally you'd banter a bit before caving, but you're tired. Riding with Billy sounds a hundred times better than riding the school bus with gossiping bitches. "Oh my god, yes. Thank you. I love you," you babble.

Quickly walking around the front of his car, you open up the passenger side door and plop down into his passenger seat. Billy leans towards you, nudging his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose. "Mmm. Say that again, but slower and whisper it in my ear."

You snort, shaking your head in amusement. "Not today, Hargrove. Please. I just want to go home and sleep."

When you look at him, you're a bit surprised to see how fast he sobers up. "What happened?"

"The usual. Now can you please drive or are we waiting for Max?"

"Max can skateboard her ass home." You frown at him, but you know better than to delve into his relationships with his family. As you and Heather have come to find out, Billy did not get along with any of his family whatsoever and it was best for everyone involved if you never mentioned it. "Your parents still out?"

"Yep, but-"

"Aw come on, Princess. No buts."

"Yes buts, Hargrove. I still don't need a guard dog to sleep at my feet."

He grins and quickly glances back out his windshield. "Who said I'd be sleeping at your feet?"

Groaning and laughing, you reach over to weakly punch his arm. "Shut up and drive, please."

Billy ends up cruising around town and down the back roads, knowing exactly what you need to decompress. With the window down and wind whipping through hair, you turn your head to face Billy and smile at him. He smirks back, thumbs tapping out beats along to the songs blaring from his speaker against his steering wheel. But all too soon the drive comes to a stop when he pulls up to the curb in front of your house.

Just as you reach for your backpack at your feet, Billy lowers the volume to his radio. "So listen, Y/N, I was thinking-"

"Whoa. No way!"

He snorts. "Shut up." You chuckle, miming zipping your lips shut. "So anyways, what are you doing tomorrow?"

"Besides sleeping? Nothing. What do you have in mind?"

"Let's grab a bite to eat. Just you and me. No Heather."

You hum as you open the door, sliding out. "Normally I'd tell you to get bent, but I'm game if you're buying." You shut the door and lean down to peer in through the opened window.

"Whatever you say, Princess. It's a date."

Your smile drops and Billy's smirk widens. "What? No it's not."

"What'd you say?" Billy raises the volume to the point that you flinch and he points at his ear, shakes his head, and shrugs. "I can't hear you!"

"You're a dickhead!" He laughs, clearly hearing you and revs his engine. On instinct you step back and Billy shoots off, leaving you waving a hand in front of your face to get rid of the dust his tires kicked up. You sigh. "It's totally not a date."

With nothing better to do and no one to tell you not to nap to your heart's content, you immediately jump into the shower to wash away all the lingering smells and germs from school. Afterward you dress in a shirt that's about two sizes too big and a pair of shorts that your father would burn had he known you were in possession of them. Then after vigorously towel drying your hair before throwing it up into a messy bun, you grab a pillow and blanket and fall onto the couch in front of the TV that's playing MTV.

Your eyes flutter shut for what feels like minutes, but when they fly back open the darkened living room says otherwise. For a moment you're confused as to why you were startled awake, but then the doorbell rings and nearly scares you half to death. When the pounding starts, you're quick to sit up and scramble towards the door, yanking it open seconds later. You're greeted by a beaming Heather and a too smug Billy.

"You have a date?!" She practically screeches.

You frown, rubbing the heel of your palm into your right eye. "Uh, no?"

"That's not what Billy says."

"Billy's a liar. You should know this by now."

Heather giggles and brushes passed you into your house. "Whatever. We brought Chinese. Hope you're hungry."

You watch her go and then turn to face Billy who's now eyeing you up and down. "Is that- is that my shirt?"

Immediately your face heats up and you glance down to see where his gaze has stopped. Grabbing the hem of the shirt and trying to lower it to cover your bare thighs, you nervously clear your throat. "You never asked for it back," you tell him. "You left your gym bag in my car for two weeks and I had to wash your rank ass clothes. I kept the shirt."

He slowly drags his eyes upward, eyes twinkling. "Looks good on you."

"Of course it does. I make everything look good."

You turn on the heel of your foot, gesturing for Billy to follow. He does. "Princess, please tell me you're wearing shorts. Because if you're not, I'm about to have a situation here."

Heather cackles from the kitchen and you roll your eyes even though he can't see it. "If you end up stiff, you're taking care of it in your car."

"You gonna give me a hand? Or a mouth?" He teases.

You snort. "Keep dreaming."

"Oh I will."

Heather dreamily sighs. "God I love when you two are like this," she says, gaze darting between you and Billy. "When you two finally come together, pun totally intended, it's going to be so explosive and I want all the nitty gritty details."

"As if," you say, the same time Billy says, "You got it."

Your friend giggles as she readily takes down plates and glasses from the cabinets. You turn to grab some Cola from the fridge and then head to take a seat at the table. Heather nudges you towards the chair that's closest to Billy and you huff a laugh but accept your fate nonetheless, crossing one leg over the other.

Heather quickly dishes out her food, she then passing you the containers. You dish yourself up some beef teriyaki and fried rice, absentmindedly dishing up the same for Billy while also adding two egg rolls to his plate. Heather coos, you blush, and then blush even harder when Billy slots his left hand between your pressed thighs underneath the table. Your instincts tell you to tell him to remove his hand, but the touch is innocent enough and you bite your tongue. It's as if he's warming his hand between your thighs like you absentmindedly do when your hands get too cold.

Laughter and chatter is shared throughout dinner, you filling them in on your day without them and they each sharing their bogus reasons for skipping school. Unknowingly you started eating with only your right hand and your left hand slipped under the table to join Billy's. You realized a moment too late that you were playing with his fingers, and when you tensed he chose that moment to squeeze your thigh.

You squeak and nearly fall out of your chair, and Heather stares suspiciously between the two of you. "What is going on?"

"Nothing," you tell her.

Billy grins. "I think I just found Y/N's ticklish spot."

You scowl as Heather's gaze drops, a smirk slowly forming. "You found the spot above her knee, huh? There's another spot on the back of her neck. Squeeze there and she drops like a sack of potatoes."

"Heather!" Your eyes widen. "You traitorous bitch." Billy reaches slowly for the back of your neck and you're quick to duck and swat at his hand. "Don't even think about it."

After a quick clean-up of the kitchen, Billy ends up staying a little while longer. The three of you wind up in the living room, MTV playing in the background as Heather playfully riles things up between you and Billy. Eventually though he has to leave and Heather informs you she's spending the night.

As you drag in the mattress from the spare bedroom into your own room, Heather showers to get ready for bed. You toss down extra pillows and a blanket, and then patiently wait for her to join you in your room.

With Cyndi Lauper playing on low, Heather paints her toenails as she asks, "So you and Billy, huh? It's about damn time you agreed to a date."

You sigh, painting your own toenails. "It's not a date."

"Are you sure?" She teases. Then a bit more seriously, she asks, "It's honest hour, Y/N. Do you really not want this to be a date?"

Taking a moment to think about it, you eventually put the polish brush back into it's bottle and meet your friend's gaze. "I like him. Okay?" She smiles. "But we've had this little back and forth going on for a while now, and it'd be weird for me to suddenly cave. I feel- I feel like once he's won, he'll walk soon after to the next girl playing hard to get."

"Oh sweetie," she coos. "Do you really not get that Billy likes you? He doesn't chase girls, Y/N. Girls chase him."

"But I-"

"Didn't chase him. Exactly," she muses. "You caught his attention. He wants you, not anyone else."

"I don't know, Heather."

"Trust me. If you're still not sure, dress casual for dinner. But if he flirts, you flirt back and see where it takes you."

You snort. "I'm pretty sure he'll try to take it to the backseat if I show the teensiest bit of interest."

"Nah. Hargrove's all talk. He'll only head in that direction if you're giving all the right signals. He'll tongue you for sure, but he'll wait for you to take the bigger steps."

You giggle, putting aside your nail polishes before falling back onto your pillows with a sigh. "Mr. California is going to be the death of me."

The following morning Heather helps you make some breakfast before cleaning up your room and helping you choose an outfit for dinner with Billy. She keeps it simple with some high waisted shorts, a black crop top with its sleeves rolled up, and a pair of Doc Martens. It's super casual, but also something that would do well for a first date.

Heather ends up leaving just after lunch and Billy calls you soon after. By his teasing and chuckling, you know he's excited for later that night. He won't tell you what he has planned, but he does give you a time to be ready by. So after some light cleaning, because your parents will be home the following night, you take a few hours nap before waking up to pamper yourself a little bit.

Dressed and now deciding whether or not you want to wear a jean jacket that's about two sizes too big, you opt to leave it on and leave it open when you hear the doorbell ring.

Practically bouncing down the steps, your amused smile falters when you open the door and see Billy's solemn expression. He actually looks really good- the boots, the tight jeans, the deep red shirt that's been unbuttoned down to the top of his stomach, and the black leather jacket. But instead of his usual sparkling eyes that you're used to, your heart falls at the sight of his defeated expression.

"Date's cancelled. Thought you'd like to know."

You frown. "What happened?"

"Max took off. Now I gotta track down the little shit and drag her home."

"Well maybe I can help. The sooner we find her, the sooner we can continue on with our night."

Billy weakly grins, hands digging into his pockets. "Our night, huh? Thought you'd be excited to get out of the date."

"What can I say? You've grown on me, Hargrove. Like a fungus."

That earns a chuckle, but still he's not his usual self like he is when you're hanging out. He looks you up and down, trying to figure out exactly what to do here, and he eventually sighs. "If you can stomach me turning on the charm for a few house moms, you got yourself a deal."

"Don't be gross." You step out onto the porch, shutting the door behind you. "I know the boys we usually see her with. I can easily direct you to where she could possibly be."

You brush past Billy, smirking, and hop down the porch stairs. He stomps down the stairs after you, chuckling as you climb into his car as if you belong there.

You first stop at the Henderson residence, you getting off alone. With Billy looking the way he is, you know for sure Ms. Henderson will attempt to keep him as long as possible. Luckily for you she's not really impressed with teen girls and tells you what you want to know right away. That the boys aren't there.

The Sinclair residence proves the boys aren't there either, but you still end up leaving with a smile when Billy gets roasted by the small pre-teen who had answered the door.

You figured it would be safe for Billy to get off at the Wheeler residence since Mrs. Wheeler is married, but you're proven wrong when she answers the door in her bathrobe and Billy's stance shifts. You can hear his flirtatious tone from the passenger seat of his car and have to bite your tongue when she leads him inside. He doesn't even spare you a glance as he follows after her and your heart twinges as he disappears. You're surprised at the sudden jealousy, but manage to remain cool for five minutes.

Eventually, you sigh and lean over towards the steering wheel to slam your hand on the horn. You let it blare for several long seconds before leaning back in your seat with a huff.

Seconds later the front door opens and Billy saunters out. He smirks at you, you flip him off, and then glower at Mrs. Wheeler who's watching with a frown from her door.

Her displeased expression at your appearance is so unwarranted that you're not really surprised your petty side jumps out. So just as Billy reaches the driver's side door, you can't help but slightly lean out the passenger window and shout, "How's the husband doing, Mrs. Wheeler?"

She smiles tightly in response, wraps her robe tighter around herself, lifts a hand in a stiff wave, and then re-enters her home. Billy laughs as he settles into his seat, slamming the door shut behind him. "Really, Y/N? Old lady Wheeler is what gets the jealousy stirring?"

"Fuck off, Hargrove, and drive. You figure out where the kids are yet?"

He smirks and then shrugs as he starts his car. "She said something about the Byers residence."

"Of course she did. Lets go."

The entire ride there Billy teases you about your now obvious dislike for Mrs. Wheeler and no amount of trying to explain why deterred him. You only disliked her because of her obvious flirting with a teenager while being married and not because she was a female flirting with the teenager you just so happened to have a crush on. Nope. Not. At. All.

But the moment you pull into the long driveway leading up to the Byers' house, all of Billy's amusement flees. Your grin falters as your gaze jumps between him and the somewhat familiar car sitting in front of the house, and you sigh. "I know you're pissed, but keep your shit straight. They're still kids, Billy."

His hand tightens on the steering wheel. "That's Harrington's car."

Well fuck. This won't end well.

Billy parks and lets his car idle for a few seconds before cutting the engine. In the silence, he pulls down a cigarette from his visor and lights up. Then placing the stick between his lips, he inhales deeply as the tip of his cig burns bright in the dark. The front door to the house opens and out steps Steve Harrington, and you're quick to exit the passenger side door as Billy angrily exits his side.

"Is that you, Harrington?" He asks, falsely amused.

"Yeah. Don't cream yourself."

You snort as you come to rest against the front end of Billy's car, shrugging when he glares at you and mumbles about you being a traitor. He then turns his attention back to Steve. You listen as they go back and forth, Billy asking about the whereabouts of his little sister and Steve denying having seen her.

Billy continues to call Steve a creep for hanging out with young boys, Steve continues to weakly defend himself, and your attention is dragged towards the house windows when you see the curtain move. Several small heads pop up to peer outside, Max included, and you cringe. You glance at Billy, hoping he hadn't seen, but when the kids all drop you know it was because Billy had seen them. And sure enough, when he points them out and Steve groans, you know the night's just taken a turn for the worse.

Billy stomps past Steve and you push off his car to follow. "Goddammit, Steve, why didn't you just admit to her being here?"

"And let him kill her? No thanks." He says, keeping pace with you.

"Fuck off, Harrington. When you saw me with him, you should have admitted she was here. Do you really think I'd let him hurt her?"

There's a shout, a couple girlish screams, and glass breaking. You swear and rush inside with Steve on your heels, only to run into pure chaos.

Billy threatens Lucas Sinclair and Steve rushes to save him. Steve throws the first punch and the room erupts with screams and shouts for Steve to beat the shit out of Billy. The boys immediately draw blood and instead of shouting at Billy to cool it, because there's no way he'll calm down now, you keep an eye on the other kids. When Billy dazes Steve, he angrily turns back towards Lucas and you rush to jump between them.

"Don't even think about it, Hargrove!" You tell him, hands planted on his chest. "He's a kid." His nostrils flare in anger, but you stand your ground.

Instead Billy focuses on Steve once more and you glance over your shoulder to nod in reassurance at the kids who are staring at you in surprise.

The fight quickly turns brutal and even you join in with the kids, shouting at Billy to stop when he leans over Steve to pummel him. But Billy's not listening to anyone and you're soon distracted by Max when you see her rush towards something on the floor and bend over to pick it up. You see her stare at a syringe now in her hand before she glances at Billy, and when you see the determination in her eyes you move.

"Max, don't!" You lunge towards Billy and shove your hand to shield the side of his neck, crying out when the needle is sloppily shoved deep into your forearm. Your cry draws Billy's attention, every one of the rioting boys quiet down, and Max's eyes widen. You stumble back, empty syringe stuck into your arm, and you hastily pull it out to toss aside. "What the ffuu-" You slur.

"I-I'm sorry!" She stammers. "I didn't mean-

The room swims before your very eyes and you trip over a piece of broken furniture. You flinch at every kid that tries to reach out to steady you, so Billy rushes forward and gently grabs you by the arms. You squeak, but he gently shushes you, and you have to flutter your eyelids just to properly focus your gaze. Staring up at him as he comes into focus, you take note of his worried expression and bleeding nose. "B-Billy?"

He nods before glancing over his shoulder. "Max, what the fuck did you give her?!"

"I-It was a tranquilizer! It was meant for you," she admits. "But she put her arm in the way."

The room spins again and you whine, squeezing your eyes shut. "Make it stop. Please make it stop."

"Guys!" One of the kids shouts. "We don't have time for this. We need to go!"

"Go how? Steve's down for the count," someone else says, "and we don't all fit in his car."

For some reason the tip of Billy's nose catches your attention and you can't help but boop it with a giggle. "Billy's got a car," you muse.

He swats at your hand. "Like hell I'm gonna drive these crotch goblins anywhere."

You poke his chin, giggling when he catches your hand. "Come on, babe. Let's go on an adventure!" You say excitedly right before your world goes dark.

When Y/N's body goes limp, Billy takes her full weight into his arm. He gently taps her cheek. "Y/N? Y/N!" When he gets no answer, he glances up and glares at Max.

She's quick to hold her hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to drug your girlfriend, but we really do need a ride. It's a life or death situation."

"Max!"

"What? He needs to know, Mike! We're not going to save anyone if we don't find a ride there and we can't exactly steal his car with him still conscious!"

Billy stares down at Y/N, then back at Max. His frustration is at its peak, but with Y/N passed out in his arms there's nothing he can do about it. The annoying kids are all staring at him, sans one who's now helping Steve to his feet, and he groans. "Fine. But you're explaining what the hell is going on, on the way there, Max. And all your little friends are riding in Harrington's car. You're with me and Y/N to make sure she doesn't choke on her own vomit."

"Fine. Whatever."

"Fine. Lets go!"

It's a complete clusterfuck just getting to the cars, the young boys struggling to get Steve moving. He's in no shape to drive, so Billy yells at them to get their shit together and pick a driver. Mike reluctantly gets into the driver's seat as they shove Steve into the back with Lucas and Billy gently shoves Y/N into the backseat of his own car with Max.

As they get on the road, Billy sighs at the shitty driving skills the kid is displaying in front of him, but follows nonetheless.

"Alright. Explain." Billy stares at Max through the rearview mirror and watches as she mentally prepares what she's going to say.

"You're not going to believe me," she starts with. "I didn't believe it until I witnessed some things first hand."

"Max," he grits out. "Tell me."

"Okay, so basically monsters are real," Max blurts. Billy says nothing, but his hands do tighten around the steering wheel. "There was some laboratory in town that was super into child experimentation and one of these experiments had powers that opened up a door to another dimension." Billy scoffs. "It's true," she glares. "A monster escaped and kidnapped Will Byers. They presumed him dead, but he was actually alive. The laboratory faked his death so they didn't have to admit what they were doing, but his mom and Chief Hopper saved him. He's possessed now which is why we're going to an opening we know about to cause a distraction while they save Will and shut the dimension door once and for all."

There's a tense moment of silence before Billy says, "Are you guys stoned? What the fuck, Max?"

She groans. "I told you, you wouldn't believe me!"

"Are you even hearing yourself right now?! What the hell did they drag you into?"

"Billy, I'm telling you the truth." Max meets his stare in the mirror, eyes pleading. "Just please follow them. I need to help and you don't even have to get off the car. We'll do all the work."

"Whatever," he grumbles. "But after all this shit is done and over with, you're gonna be on your best behavior for the next several months. I don't need Neil on my ass about babysitting you anymore."

"Fine. Deal. Whatever."

Billy's annoyed when he has to drive his baby through a goddamn pumpkin patch and then even more annoyed with the rotted smell after they park. The kids and Harrington all readily climb out of the car, and he warns Max to not die because he's not taking the blame for that shit. He watches as they produce swimming goggles, bandanas, ropes, and gloves. Flashlights are handed out, as well as canisters of what he presumes is gasoline.

"What the fuck," he mutters. Sighing, he glances at Y/N still passed out in the backseat and seeing that she's not going anywhere anytime soon he decides to get out of his car. So with his headlights left on and shining towards the same spot Steve left his headlights shining on, Billy gets out and stomps around towards the group. "Yo, dipshits! What the hell are you doing with those gas cans?"

In the midst of tying their makeshift masks around their faces, everyone glances at Billy before staring at Max. She groans and addresses her stepbrother. "It's called the Upside Down- the place where the monsters come from. Their world started leaking into ours and there's an opening over there in the patch," she says while pointing. "We're going to go in and torch it."

Off in the distance there's a roar of an animal that Billy has never heard before. The headlights to the two vehicles flicker before cutting out and flashlights get turned on. But even then the flashlights flicker too.

"If we're going to do this, we're doing it now," Steve says.

Billy follows the group towards the rotted out pumpkin patch and watches them secure a rope before tossing the rest of the length down the hole. One by one they jump down and before Max can take her turn, he grabs her by the arm. "Don't die, dipshit."

She huffs. "Sure thing, asshole."

Steve is the last to go, but before he goes down he looks at Billy. "I'll, uh, I'll keep an eye on her."

"You better, pretty boy. If she gets hurt, I'm coming after you."

Steve's eyes widen before he lowers the ridiculous goggles to shield his eyes and then jumps down. Billy walks over to the ledge, frowning down into the hole. The kids must get further from the entrance because the small beams of light soon disappear and with no way to see he heads back to his car.

As soon as he opens up the driver's side door, Billy yanks the seat forward and climbs into the back with Y/N.

Shifting in your seat, your eyes flutter open and you're momentarily confused with the near darkness that greets you. "Where-" You utter, cutting yourself off and gulping. Your mouth feels a little dry and your tongue feels heavy. "What's going on?"

"Hey. Shh." Turning to the side and squinting, you can make out Billy's features. His hands gently cup your face and you flinch the touch. "It's okay. You're alright."

"Billy?" You let your eyes close, head aching. "Where are we?"

"In the backseat of my car in the middle of some field with rotted pumpkins."

You whimper softly. "The backseat of your car? I told Heather I wouldn't be that girl."

Billy chuckles. "Relax, Princess. You were drugged. I'm not in the business of taking advantage of girls."

"Drugged?" Bits and pieces of earlier that night comes to you and you sit up a little in your seat. "Max was going to stab you!"

"Relax." He tugs you into his side, draping an arm around you and keeping you pressed against him. "Max had her reason for wanting to knock me out. I did a serious number on Harrington back at the house."

Your brow furrows the more you try to recall. You groan quietly and press your face into Billy's chest. "I feel like I should tell you something for fighting, but I'm just so tired."

"Go to sleep, Y/N. You can scold me later."

"Okay. Just one question." He hums and waits for you to continue. "What the fuck are we doing in the middle of a field?"

Billy's sudden laugh startles you and you pinch him in retaliation. "That's a story for when you're less loopy. It's pretty unbelievable and I'm still not sure I believe it myself."

"Okay. If you say so, Bobby."

"Jesus Christ," he sighs. "Go back to sleep."

You lose track of time over the rest of the weekend, barely keeping yourself focused during phone calls with Billy, Heather, and Jonathan Byers since he was pretty close to the situation going on that led the kids to acting crazy and Max drugging you. Your parents are in and out of your room, but they leave you alone thinking you'd caught a very mild case of the flu.

One morning you wake up to the smell of something cooking and stumble your way out of the room, heading towards the kitchen. You rub at your eyes, yawning and stretching carefully since you're aching in several places, and blink in confusion at the sight of your mom cooking.

"Mom?" You frown. "What are you doing home?"

"Hmm. Oh, honey," she smiles. "Your father pushed his trip back a couple of days to make sure you were feeling well before we left again."

"Oh. Well thanks, but I'm actually feeling pretty good. I'm just really tired," you tell her with yet another yawn. She smiles at you and your gaze is then drawn towards a vase holding three sunflowers. "Dad forget an important day?" You ask. "He rarely buys flowers unless he's in trouble."

Your mom laughs. "No, those are yours. Some young girl brought them over last night and when we told her you were feeling a bit unwell, she said to tell you that she apologizes for ruining your date."

Max. Max had brought you flowers because she had ruined what would have been your first date with Billy. And speaking of Billy, the memories of that night rush to the forefront of your mind and you can't help but smile at how adoringly attentive he had been when you were out of your mind in the backseat of his car. You even remember him driving you home and helping you upstairs before he tucking you into bed while Max had gotten you a glass of water and some Tylenol.

Your mom suddenly clears her throat and at her smug little grin, your cheeks heat up. "Don't make it weird. It's just Billy."

"The boy who's been chasing you for the past several months? That Billy?"

"Yep." You head towards the flowers, delicately running your fingers over them and huffing a short laugh. "That girl that dropped these off is Max, his step sister. She kind of took off without letting their parents know she was leaving and Billy had to search for her."

"Oh. Well it was kind of her to apologize."

"Yeah. Yeah it was." As you're staring at the flowers, it suddenly hits you that you really want to see Billy. Plus it's also a weekday and you should be getting ready for school. "Well I'm gonna go shower and get ready. Don't wanna be late for class."

"Y/N." You turn towards your mom before you can make an escape and she frowns at you. "It's about to be lunch time, sweetheart. You've already missed your morning classes."

"What?" Your heart skips a beat. Looking out the window, you're surprised you hadn't realized just how bright it was. "Crap."

"You slept through your alarm so I figured you weren't feeling well."

"It's- it's fine. I'm just gonna freshen up and make a quick appearance at school."

You're in a rush to get back to your room that you barely hear your mom call out, "Tell Billy I say hello," with laughter lacing her tone.

----------

Twenty minutes later you're pulling into the school parking lot with only a handful of minutes left to spare in the lunch period. Billy is easy to spot, a gaggle of his usual fans surrounding the front of his car as Heather sits on the hood next to him and glares at all the simpering messes.

You park nearby, cutting the engine and slamming your door shut as you climb out. Everyone turns to stare at you, but you only have eyes for the smoking moron who pushes himself off his car to stand tall as you approach.

You pass up one car and then two, and then, "Nice house shoes," Steve muses from his perch on Jonathan Byers' car.

"Eat my ass, Harrington." Jonathan snorts and you barely give Steve and his affronted expression a brief grin as Nancy giggles from Jonathan's side.

Continuing on your path towards Billy, a few girls give up upon seeing you and move on while others stand their ground. You have no problem shoving between them all to get to your friend and Billy tosses down his cigarette when he sees you're on a mission.

"Well, well, well. It looks like Sleeping Beauty finally-" You grab him by the lapels of his jean jacket and pull him down so you don't have to tiptoe in order to kiss him. He tenses momentarily and someone wolf whistles, Heather most likely, while others grumble and others mutter slurs beneath their breath before stomping off.

But almost as soon as he tenses, he relaxes and his hands slide down to grip your hips. With his mouth still connected to yours and teeth nipping, Billy turns you and readily lifts you onto the hood of his car as he steps between your knees.

"Goddamn. Finally!" Heather gushes.

Her words manage to pierce through the lustful fog in your brain and you pull back from Billy, laughing. You shake your head at her as she wiggles her eyebrows and swat at Billy's hands as his fingers trail down your thighs.

"Uh, excuse you," someone scoffs. "We were talking."

Heather's smile drops as her gaze immediately darts to the girl who dared speak up and you turn to slowly meet the annoyed girl's stare. You smile. "You're excused, Natalie."

"It's Natasha."

"Did I stutter?" Billy snorts as he leans forward, dropping his forehead on your shoulder. "Move along, Natalie. Your presence is no longer required."

The bell ringing has the crowd slowly dispersing in order to get back to class, but you, Billy, and Heather remain rooted right where you're at.

When the shuffling of feet or petty remarks can no longer be heard, Billy lifts his head. "Not that I'm complaining, but what brought this on?"

"Saturday night was a total shitshow," you say, your hands tugging at the lapels of his jacket before smoothing them down and then sliding around to clasp at the back of his neck, "but something definitely shifted after your step-sister drugged me."

"She did what?!" Heather practically shouts.

Billy chuckles but doesn't say anything and a feeling of uncertainty washes over you. You sigh. "This is weird, isn't it?"

"No. Definitely not," he's quick to reply. "You just caught me off guard, but I'm totally into it."

"Of course you are. You're into anything if it means you're going to get laid."

"Am I?" He asks, right eyebrow raising. "Going to get laid?" He then clarifies.

You roll your eyes. "Maybe. We'll play it by ear."

"Uhh.. excuse me!?" Heather says, gaze ping-ponging between you and Billy. "Is anyone going to explain? Why the hell were you drugged?!"

You and Billy laugh as you meet her surprised expression. "Oh, Heather. There's so much more to Hawkins that we have to teach you."

"But not right now," Billy says. His hands hook beneath your knees as he drags you towards the edge of his car and you readily wrap your legs around his waist as he lifts you up. "Y/N and I are going somewhere quieter to talk."

"Mhm. I'm sure you are." Heather hops off the hood and starts to slowly walk backwards toward the school.

"And you," you say while tossing her your keys, "are going to take my car after school. I'll get it from you later."

"Jesus. If I'd known you would be this nice, I'd have encouraged Billy to get into your pants a lot sooner."

"Eat me, Holloway."

"That's Billy's job, Y/L/N." With that she turns on her heel and skips away.

Billy snorts as he spots your cheeks flaming, but you pinch the side of his neck before pecking his lips and then letting your legs drop so you can stand on your own two feet once more. He chuckles as he watches you walk around to the passenger side of his car and you waste no time settling inside. As he then moves to take his place behind the wheel, you can't help but think about how exhilarating this all is. You've known he was attractive from the moment you saw him, but you made him your friend before pursuing any type of relationship with him.

So now as you sit in his passenger seat like you have been for several months, you can't help but feel a bout of nervousness as he reaches across the seat and offers you his right hand. You grab it and then bite back a giggle as he laces your fingers together.

"So my place or yours?"

"Yours. Definitely yours."

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove #stranger things #heather holloway #fanficimagery #imagine

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sebthesnipe · 4 years

Text

A Very Patton Christmas

Other works by me (AO3)

Tumblr Master Post

To @gilby-the-geek-girl for being the best friend a person could ask for. For without whom my writing would be riddled with errors and inconsistency, and whose gift of friendship has been the greatest thing to happen to me in a very long time. While I know you’ve read this (cuz you beta for me like the boss bitch you are) I still hope that you know that it was written with love for you. (I really don’t have time to write for anyone else XP) One day I hope you’ll have a friend at least half as good as you are (because we both no I ain’t it XP) I hope your Hanukkah wasn’t a miserable one and that you Christmas is the highlight of your 2020 (because we both know there isn’t much competition). Prompt: Explain why Patton’s Sweater this year is so damn ugly.

Patton shifted under the mountainous pile of blankets atop him. It was early, or rather… late? He hadn’t really slept. How could he?! His favorite day of the year was here! Well, it would be.

He shifted again, this time wiggling towards where he thought one of the blankets ended and poked his head out to look at his frog shaped Wisoee alarm clock. Its dim light smiled at him reading 3:37 AM.

He held back a squeal as he ducked back into this warm cave of comforters. He couldn’t watch the clock.

A watched pot never boils,he reminded himself.

He went over the day’s schedule in his head:

Logan would already be awake and emerge at precisely 4:00 AM, as he always did. Today though, was the only day out of the year the Logan broke his (otherwise) usual routine.

Logan would skip his usual jog, replacing his gray sweats for the pajamas Patton had bought him for his birthday (a blue plaid pair of pants and a grey tee with the text ‘Wash your hands. Wear a mask. Vote.’ printed on the front) At which point, he would make his way to the kitchen where he would start a pot of coffee for himself, Virgil, and Janus.

That would be where Patton, came in!

Patton would already be in the kitchen to start his homemade hot chocolate for himself, Roman, and Remus (With Logan’s help of course. He didn’t want another incident like the baking fiasco from a few months ago).

By the time they finished, Roman would be up, no doubt singing everyone into wakefulness. Then it would be time for hot cocoa and presents!

Patton got them all Christmas sweaters just like he did every year! He loved picking them out for each of his friends and watching them all spread out in the living room, all snug and cozy to watch their usual Christmas movie marathon!

They always let Patton pick the first movie, but there were so many good ones he usually couldn’t choose! Logan would probably chime in with the Nutcracker, not because he was a fan but because it was the only Christmas movie Roman and Remus agreed on, making it the popular choice.

Then it would be Logan’s actual turn. He usually chose The Polar Express. Patton was pretty sure he only chose it because there were really only two Christmas movies based on books and Janus always chose A Christmas Carol. That and because Patton really liked it!

Then came Janus and finally Virgil, who was Jewish and didn’t have personal stock in Christmas, but participated for the others (which was another reason he was Patton’s favorite ,not that he’d ever admit it). Virgil always wanted to watch Die Hard, but knew Patton didn’t care for the violence much, so he usually settled for Rudolf, which warmed the fatherly figure’s heart to no end (Which was probably why Patton had bought him the collector’s edition box set of the movie). During the previous year’s viewing of the movie Virgil and Logan ended up in a discussion regarding how the song Rudolf the Rednosed Reindeer was (according to Virgil) one of the only times a big corporation did what was right. Patton usually tried to follow this kind of discussion, but he usually got lost when Logan started in about percentages and underpaid artists. It just really hurt his little heart to know so many talented people out there were struggling.

The movies, as a matter of fact, were why Patton chose the sweaters he did for them this year! Each of his friends would be gifted a sweater to mirror each of their favorite Christmas movies! (Die Hard being the exception of course!)

After all that, the group would settle in for-

The alarm clock croaked loudly, signaling the arrival of 3:45 AM.

Patton’s previous thoughts evaporated into excitement as he attempted scramble from the mass of comforters, reaching to shut off the alarm.

His leg tangled in one of the large downeys and he hit the ground with a heavy thud. He paid no mind to his bruised ribs as he wrestled himself from its grasp, smacking the flashing frog to silence it.

A moment later he threw open his door, intent for the stairs.

He never made it though. At least, not at first…

Something was off.

He paused in the hallway, skin prickling at the coolness of the air.

He had only made it a few feet when he noticed it.

Roman’s door was ajar, the dark shadows of his messy room an indication of his absence…

Remus’ too. Though it was only slightly. Patton noticed the smell more than the sight.

Was everyone up before him?

He moved towards Virgil’s room, giving a soft knock before shouldering open the door.

“Hey, Kiddo. You up?” He whispered softly before noticing the unmade empty bed.

“And what would you know?!” the ‘kiddo’-in-question’s voice came in a harsh snap, drifting up from the living room.

“Keep your voice down!” Janus’ own snapped back, matching Virgil’s volume though the tone was a mock attempt at a whisper in his tone.

Patton inched closer, concern playing on his features as he flattened himself against the wall at the top of the stairs. He certainly didn’t want to intrude on his friends’ conversation, but there was obviously something was wrong.

“Bite me, snake boy!” Virgil snapped in return, though his voice was lowered.

“Don’t tempt me,” Janus hissed.

“Wait! Let me get the camera! Pics or it didn’t happen!” Remus’ voice came in a giddy giggle. “Okay, make sure you draw blood.”

“Gross,” Virgil huffed, heat gone.

“As much as I hate to admit it, Stormcloud, I think Ser Lies-a-lot is right,” Roman sighed softly.

“You can’t be serious!” Virgil grumbled.

“I believe he is,” Logan’s calm voice interrupted. “Statistically speaking, twenty three percent of christmas gifts in America in a given year are unwanted but kept.”

“That’s reassuring,” Virgil growled.

“I wasn’t finished,” Logan retorted. “Given that statistic, along with the fact that individuals are more likely to gift items they like themselves, and factoring in the number of gifts we’ve received over the years. That paired with the fact that it was commissioned from an independent artist, supporting their work directly: I would say that there is a ninety-two point six five present chance that Patton will find the gift quite adequate.”

“Did you really just do all that in your head?” Janus asked curiously.

“Actually, no,” Logan admitted. “I calculated the odds when the idea was brought up months ago, as I do with each of your christmas gifts.”

“Is that why I got socks last year?” Remus chirped.

“Yes, well… I found that the other options would cause unease with the others,” Logan clarified.

“Boring!”

“Don’t worry Remus, he didn’t get you a dissection kit this year to make up for it,” Janus commented sarcastically.

“What?!” Roman spat as Remus gasped excitedly.

“I’m not even sure how you know that,” Logan sighed, probably straightening his glasses like he usually did when something annoyed him. “And I’m not sure I care to know.”

“We’re getting side tracked. He’ll be up any minute,” Virgil interrupted once more. “The fact is, it’s one of the ugliest things I’ve ever seen and it’s too late not to give it to him.”

“I like it!” Remus argued.

“See!” Virgil huffed, using Remus’ opinion as evidence to the validity of his statement.

“Ugh, maybe he has a point Teach,” Roman agreed. “I could put together a card for us to sign instead?”

“No, it’s too late for that, beside I am certain this is all an overstated concern.” Logan countered.

“Perhaps, a vote wouldn’t be appropriate?” Janus offered.

“I agree, all in favor of giving Patton the gift we already agreed upon?” Logan asked.

There was silence as Patton assumed a few of the boys raised their hands.

“All opposed?” He continued.

“Remus you can’t vote twice!” Roman snapped.

“You’re no fun!” Remus whined. “I’ll stick with J-anus then!”

“Please, continue to call me that. I just love it,” Janus deadpanned.

“The ayes have it then,” Logan decided.

“What eyes?” Remus chirped excitedly, but no one paid him any mind.

“Roman, if you would be so kind as to finish wrapping the gift, I have a pot of coffee to finish,” Logan dismissed.

“I have some extra ribbon in my room. Want to help, Stormcloud?” Roman asked, making Patton tense as they headed his way.

He didn’t wait for V to answer as Patton hurried back to his room and closed the door softly behind him.

He really shouldn’t have eavesdropped.

Guilt filled him as he leaned against the frame, processing everything that had been said.

The group had never agreed on a gift for Patton. Usually Logan and Roman were the only two to get him anything and they just included the others’ names on the presents (not that Patton ever called them out on it. Why would he?). Patton didn’t mind of course, he knew they had trouble buying for him.

Logan usually got him a new hoodie or something practical like a flamingo pen, or oven mitts (though those usually only lasted about a week before Patton caught them on fire or melted them!). Roman always made him something, like the card he had mentioned, and just had the others sign it. Patton didn’t mind of course, he loved everything they gave him. It was the thought that warmed him! Even the fact that Remus refrained from his usual off the wall habits to try and make Patton more comfortable meant the world to him.

The fact that the group was so torn over his opinion broke his heart. How could they think that? What had he done to put that doubt in their mind? He had to do better! Whatever it was, he would show he loved it more than anything they had ever gotten him before.

His brows furrowed in determination.

This would be their year!

He took a moment to gather himself before plastering on a smile and throwing open the door once more, running straight into a surprised Logan.

Logan gave a small grunt as Patton bumped him, the mug of hot cocoa sloshing over and onto his hand.

“Oh goodness!” Patton gasped in shock, “I’m so sorry Lo’! Are you alright?” The smaller man hurriedly took the mug from his friend’s hand and set it on the small table next to the door, frantically searching for something to clean up the mess.

“I’m fine, Patton,” Logan reassured, producing a blue handkerchief from his pant pocket and wiping the warm liquid off his hand. Leave it to Logan to have his handkerchief with him despite wearing pajamas. “I made sure the liquid was at an acceptable temperature for this exact reason.”

“Oh! I hope I didn’t ruin your new PJs!” Patton cried, already pushing Logan’s arms up to examine the flannel.

There wasn’t a stain to be found. Logan arched a brow as he waited for Patton to satisfy his need for the inspection before sighing.

“Truly, Patton, I’m fine. Are you?” Logan asked, his neutral expression turning to one of concern.

“What?” Patton hummed, glancing up to meet the taller man’s eyes. “Of course! I wasn’t the one holding the cup!”

“I wasn’t referring to the cocoa,” Logan pointed out, lowering his arms. “It’s 4:17. It isn’t like you to be so unpunctual on Christmas day.”

“Oh…” Patton whispered, lowering his gaze in shame. Should he tell him? It wasn’t right to keep secrets. Would he be upset if he found out Patton had been eavesdropping? No… Today was their day… He wouldn’t do anything to upset them. “No. I’m fine!” Patton reassured, suddenly as chipper as ever as he offered out a smile.

Logan eyed him suspiciously, but seemed to wearily accept the answer.

“Well, I thought your traditional cup of cocoa would help if anything were amiss,” Logan nodded towards the cup, bringing Patton’s attention to it once more.

Logan had made it without him?

Patton could feel the mask around his heart start to crack a little as his stomach sank. He supposed it made sense that Logan wouldn’t really need him to make it… Still, that was Patton and Logan’s Christmas tradition… It hurt that he had been left out of it.

“Aw! Thank you Logan!” Patton forced out in his preening voice as if nothing was wrong.

This was their day, not his.

“That’s so sweet!” He added, collecting the mug and taking a small sip. Somehow it didn’t taste as good as it usually did.

“You’re very welcome, Patton,” Logan replied with a small tilt of his lips.

His crooked smile also seemed to soften his features; Patton loved that about him. It made his sudden disappointment worth it.

“I know we usually have a schedule for the holiday, but…” Logan paused as if he were nervous. What an odd look for the scholar. “Well, the others requested a change in plans.”

Patton’s heart sank. What kind of change? Did they not like the way they usually celebrated Christmas? Why hadn’t they told him? Was his idea of Christmas really so one sided? How had he not noticed this before? Was that why Logan was so nervous?

No… It didn’t matter. This was their day, not his.

“What kind of change, kiddo? I’m sure whatever it is will be great! It’s Christmas after all!” Patton responded, despite the way his stomach knotted.

“Well,” Logan began, stepping aside. “Perhaps it would be best if they explained it.”

Patton hesitated before nodding taking the lead as they walked down the hall. What if they didn’t want to do hot cocoa and movies any more? What if they didn’t want to celebrate Christmas at all?! Was that why they came together for a gift? To appease Patton? They were all getting older and it wasn’t as if they had children. Maybe they felt like Christmas wasn’t for adults…

That was ridiculous, Patton knew that. But still…

He headed down the stairs, a smile still glued to his lips as he caught sight of Remus and Janus whispering over a small box.

“I told you, it's for you!” Janus hissed at the mustached man next to him, fending him off the plain white box in his hands.

“I helped pick them out! I should be allowed first dib-” Remus cut himself off as Janus elbowed him in the ribs pulling his attention up to Patton, just as he took the last step on the landing.

“I didn’t lick them, I swear!” Remus called out, smiling broadly in his stained Oscar the Grouch onesie. “Okay maybe a few.”

Janus rolled his eyes, dressed in his usual suit and hat, not bothering with a comment.

“Good Morning, Patton, slept horribly I hope?” Janus asked pleasantly.

“Hey, kiddos. You’re up early,” Patton offered, feeling more uneasy than ever; something that must have shown because at that moment Logan leaned down to whisper in the smaller man’s ear.

“Are you sure you are alright Patton?” he asked softly. “If you’re not feeling well then perhaps you should rest. I’m sure we can put this off unti-”

“Hola, Padre!” Roman’s voice came, cutting off Logan’s words.

Patton glanced up at the two figures standing at the top of the stairs. Roman, straight backed, hands behind him as he stood tall in his prince pajamas; Virgil behind him, using him to practically hide his small form, dressed in his Jack Skeleton onesie.

“Roman, Virgil! You’re up already! This is a surprise!” Patton feigned excitement.

“Definitely a Christmas miracle,” Janus sighed.

No one paid the comment any mind as Roman hurried down the stairs. Grin wide.

“Well this is a special day, Padre!” Roman explained as Virgil followed after, rolling his eyes.

“Bah-Humbug,” the black and white clad man grumbled in response. Though it may have been Patton’s imagination, but Virgil's eyeshadow looked a few shades lighter than usual.

“Feliz Navidad Patton! Merry Christmas!”Roman sang, producing the present from behind his back and offering it out.

Patton’s heart skipped a beat, hesitating as he glanced around the room at each of his friends. They all looked so nervous… Even Janus.

His attention went back to the gift being presented. It was a decent sized package with rainbow wrapping paper, black and white striped ribbon, and a green and blue bow that sat just above a small yellow tag that read ‘To: Janus From: Patton’.

Despite Patton’s dread and apprehension, he couldn’t help but smile at the packaging. They had even come together on the wrapping. It was very sweet.

He glanced up at Roman who nodded eagerly, indicating that Patton was welcome to it.

“You guys! You didn’t have to do all this!” He whispered in awe, voice cracking as tears began filling his eyes.

No matter what happened, Patton was awed by the fact that the boys went to so much trouble for him. They had come together for him. It didn’t matter if they were too old for Christmas!

He tugged at the ribbon, finding it firmly in place, before turning it over and trying again. After flipping it once more he heard Logan give a small chuckle.

“May I?” his soft calm voice came. Patton nodded, handing over the package to Logan and wiping away a tear he felt rolling down his cheek.

Logan’s nimble fingers loosened the bow and the surrounding ribbon, careful not to ruin them (he knew Patton loved to keep them and hang them above his mirror to admire later). Logan set the ribbon aside before handing the package back to the smaller man.

“Thank you,” Patton murmured weakly, gently tearing the wrapping to slide the sleek white box from inside.

“This is worse than waiting for a magnet you swallowed to come out the other end!” Remus chimed in excitedly.

“Ugh! Does he really have to be here?!” Roman whined, causing Patton’s grin to turn genuine.

The momentary distraction had him feeling a bit better as he slid a nail under the lid of the box, breaking the tape there and pulling open the lid.

Wrapped loosely in a thin tissue paper lay a DVD copy of The Shop Around the Corner, a mug that, when you sip it, makes the drinker look like the bottom half of their face belongs to a puppy, and some kind of knitted fabric.

“Ah! You guys!!!” Patton squealed, tears beginning to fall as he collected the mug and movie, setting them aside and pulling out the sweater to get a better look at it.

The light blue knitted midsection was covered in what, he assumed, was supposed to be some kind of icing pattern? Or perhaps whipped cream? Lace? He wasn’t sure. There was also a brown bow tie that was maybe supposed to be chocolate? Down the center was a line of pink chocolate chip cookie buttons. The bright pink sleeves had much of the same design though instead of pink cookies they were light blue.

It may have been the ugliest excuse of a sweater Patton had ever seen.

Silence fell in the rooms everyone waited for Patton’s reaction.

“We know it’s not as good as the ones you get us,” Virgil chimed in nervously. “But we thought that maybe you’d like one of your own?”

“The mug, of course, is so you won’t have to make so many trips for more cocoa,” Logan added with a soft smile. “I thought the others would like to help us make the rest after you change, of course. If you’d like.”

“The rest?” Patton asked, breath hitching as the tears threatened to fall. “You mean… You didn’t make it without me?” He sniffled.

“What?” Logan blinked in surprise. “Of course not, Patton. Making hot chocolate for everyone is a tradition I enjoy spending with you. I would never-”

“Well, it's just… you brought the mug up… So, I thought…” Patton let his voice fade as he watched understanding flash over Logan’s features.

“I was worried there might be something wrong. I thought waking you with your own mug would be a nice surprise.” Logan explained. “I apologize if I gave the wrong impression, Patton. I only made the one mug. I know you find a great deal of happiness in our customary time in the kitchen. I would not want to take that from you.”

“But…” Patton murmured, eyes shifting to the others. “Everyone’s already awake… And you were all together… I don’t want to impose on-”

“¡Espera! ¡Espéra! ¡Espéra!” Roman interrupted, looking both surprised and concerned. “I did not wake up far before my beauty rest was done to hear this slander especially from Mr. Spirit of Christmas, himself! Patton, with you there is no Christmas.”

“Roman is right, Patton,” Virgil shrugged, shrinking a bit lower into his hood. “I certainly wouldn’t be celebrating and we definitely wouldn’t have come together to get you the gifts.

“I know Shop Around the Corner isn’t usually on our Christmas Merry Marathon list, but you never really get to pick a movie and I know it’s your favorite,” Roman pitched in. “At least, that's what Janus claims.”

“I totally didn’t check your browsing history,” Janus shrugged.

“And I edited the email to the artist!” Remus added proudly.

“That… explains a lot,” Logan whispered under his breath softly.

“We also didn’t bring you cookies from that bakery you hate.” Janus stated, setting the box he had been holding down on the small table next to him.

Patton was silent throughout the exchange, burying his face into the soft fabric as he began to shake silently with his sobs.

“I told you he wouldn’t like it!” Virgil cried desperately.

“No!” Patton responded, voice breaking. “I love it! I love all of it!” He dropped his hands just enough to rush forward, wrapping both Virgil and Roman into a great big hug. “Thank you so much! It’s perfect!”

Roman gave a boisterous laugh, returning the hug as Virgil couldn’t help but smile; both grunting as Remus piled atop them.

Logan approached, resting a hand on Patton’s shoulders in reassurance.

“Well, this is certainly a disgusting sight,” Janus sighed, though he was grinning as well.

“I love you guys so much!” Patton laughed, the weight on his heart lifting to the point of forgetfulness. How could he have ever thought these men didn’t need him or wouldn’t want to spend Christmas with him. They were his family!

“Is it just me or is this oddly arousing?” Remus purred.

“Ugh!” Roman and Virgil both scoffed at once, shoving the rank smelling man away from them.

“Why do you have to ruin everything?!” Roman growled, dragging his brother away.

Patton didn’t mind the outburst, however, far too busy hurrying up the stairs to change so they could get their Best Christmas EVER underway…

The End...

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kchuarts · 4 years

Text

Flowers in Blood

A/N: God damn you’d think my fingers are smoking from how much I type and think through the day. The ending will shock you as a familiar face makes a return

Summary: Baby steps are key

Warnings: I’M EDGING THE FUCK OUT OF YOU GUYS BUT I AM ALSO TORMENTING MYSELF. FUCK.

Taglist: @lucywrites02, @shiningloki *(let me know if you’d like to be tagged!)*

Chapter 7: Saffron

Slowly, Jonathan held his hands up and closed his eyes. He suspected a bad reaction, but not to this extent. “If you want to shoot me, go ahead.” He spoke quietly, his eyes still shut and heart racing.

Katie cocked the gun, her hands trembling. Her eyes shut tightly as she pulled the trigger, but nothing came of her action. “God Damn it!!” She cried, frantically trying to disassemble the gun in morbid hopes of finding a single bullet. Her thoughts eventually caught up to her and she threw the gun to the side, letting out a sob with her body piling into a heap on the forest floor. The brunette knew from the start that she would never be able to outright kill someone point blank, let alone have it be Pine. “Why!? Why did you come for me!?” She shrieked, getting up with some difficulty and promptly punching Jonathan across the face. “You fucking asshole!! You’re so fucking stupid, Pine!!” She punched him again, seeing that he took each of her hits. “Why won’t you say anything!?” She whimpered loudly, falling to her knees and hitting her fists against his chest while continuing her meltdown. Katie’s limbs ache badly from the abuse from last night and the cut on her chest burned as it hadn’t completely scabbed over yet.

Jonathan caught her fists and held them in his hands, looking at her with sadness. “I was wrong. I should have never told you to leave or said the things I did. Your kidnapping was my fault and I will forever regret my actions.” He felt her rip her hands away from him. Katie’s rage was in the right and Pine would take every last bit of her wrath if it eased the tensions.

“Then why!? Why the FUCK did you even do it in the first place!? How the fuck do I not know you’re lying to me right now!? Is it because Angela said something about me being gone that put your paycheck on the line!? Was it!? I know you don’t give a damn about me so that is probably why you came to get me!!” Her lower lip quivered and she stood up. This was too much for her in the short time span of everything that had occurred. Katie began to limp away as fast as she could, noticing that there was a sharp pain in the side of her hip. She heard Jonathan call after her, but she did not stop. She wanted nothing to do with him. A strong pressure around her arm made her scream loudly as she was yanked back to Pine, squirming. “LET ME GO!! LET ME GO YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!! LET! ME! GO!” Her knee was abruptly stopped before she could get between Pine’s legs.

Pine exhaled loudly through his nose as he struggled with getting the American woman to calm down. “Stop it!! You are truly acting like a child!! Katie, stop!!” He forced the both of them onto the ground, pinning her beneath his body. The agent was really taking some chances with her underneath him like this as she could be triggered into an episode by this alone. “Katie please. I didn’t do it for my paycheck and Angela doesn’t even fucking know! I did this because I am terrified to the core of losing you! I said what I said because I care about you a lot more than you think I do. The way I care about you is very much different from how I cared about your brother, if that is anything to go by.” He began to cry, turning his face away so she wouldn’t see his tears. His chest heaved with sobs and forced him to get off of her, crying into his jacket sleeve.

The words that Katie had just heard seeped in over the action that he performed to get her to listen. Slowly, she sat up and bit her already bloodied lip hard. She wanted so desperately to believe his words but because of how badly he had hurt her, it would take a long time for him to earn her trust back. “I don’t believe you.” She whispered, casting her gaze aside and wrapping her arms around herself. “I can’t. You hurt me, Pine… I trusted you up until we left Russia. I-I wanted to be different and you helped me be just that. You helped me realize that not all men are pigs and I-I even liked you. I thought that maybe we could…” She stopped herself and shook her head. They could be more than friends? Absolutely not. With the type of lives that they led, it would be impossible to be something more than just companions that were close. Maybe Pine did have some sense in his words when he told her she lived in a fantasy. She did expect some sort of fictional romance to blossom from this like in the movies or books… “Nevermind, forget I said anything. Let’s just go back and let Angela know I’m ok. Then I’ll go back to packing my stuff and go back to Michigan.”

Jonathan’s head snapped up at her words and his sobbing ceased immediately. “You can’t.”

“What do you mean I can’t? I can and I will. There’s nothing more for me here.” Katie rose to her feet and huffed, beginning to limp away. What she heard next however, made her freeze.

“We got out of there alive because I-I agreed to helping Poppy get back on track with their drug dealing until next month!!” Pine blurted out, rising to his feet and looking at the girl with honesty. “I understand your frustrations with me, but when I say I would go to great lengths to keep you from getting hurt or worse… I would.” He licked his dry lips and sniffled. Jonathan took a step closer to her, leaves crunching under his feet as he did so. “I am not asking for you to forgive me, I am asking you to trust my word and that in no way did I ever mean what I said back in Russia.”

Turning around, Katie’s green eyes were wide with a mix of astonishment and horror. She blinked a few times before finally taking a breath in that she hadn’t realized she held for a bit. Swallowing her pride, she thought about his words for a moment and looked straight into those beautiful blue eyes that continued to captivate her. “I don’t think I can do either of the two, Jonathan.” her voice came out soft and her tongue felt heavy saying his first name. “But you dragged yourself into this shit and managed to tag me along. I’m not about to say no to something that will affect us all and potentially cause more violence.” She sighed, her breath visible from the cool evening air. A tiny and sad smile touched her lips as she looked at Pine, parting her lips again to say something but losing her train of thought. “Thank you for rescuing me.” was all she could say before turning back around and limping on.

It was then that Pine heard a high pitched squeal come from Katie as she grabbed onto her hip and fell to the ground. He quickly rushed over to her and helped her stand, eyes scanning her form with worry.

“I’m fine. Please, Pine don’t try to suck up to me and think that everything will be ok tomorrow.” Katie pushed away from him and carried onward, limping. Her hip burned badly and she so desperately wished her stubborn ass would welcome the help. It was only a few weeks of underground duty and then she would be on the first flight back to the USA. The sooner she left England, the better. Her heart couldn’t take much more with her strong feelings she still harbored for Jonathan.

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

Just as Natalie had promised, two henchmen awaited the pair's return with written instructions of what was to be expected over the following weeks. It had taken them around 3 hours to get back, but Pine had managed to snag a cab while they had walked along the lonely road. The instructions had read where to go, who to deal with, which areas were off limits, when the police were out and about, times, dates, how much of each sale, etc… Jonathan sighed heavily as he sat on his bed, running a hand through his freshly showered hair. He did give thought to letting Angela know that Katie was ok, but Natalie had said she has eyes all over London. Pine wasn’t about to risk having his phone call being recorded and have Katie killed over false pretenses. Speaking of, he wondered how in the hell she was fairing with her ruined apartment. He would most definitely offer her to stay with him, but knew better than that. What she had said today was right, nothing would be ok or back to normal the next day. He could feel the hurt in her voice when she told him so. Pine fell back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling and letting his mind drift elsewhere. He’d rather not think of what was expected of him in the coming weeks as it reminded him of all the horrible things that Roper had him do. Instead, his mind chose to wander back to Katie which was also a terrible choice as he felt his chest grow warm.

Pine closed his eyes, trying like hell to dismiss the growing dirty thoughts of the young woman. It felt sort of wrong in a way with how old he was as he was approaching 40 in less than two years. Meanwhile, Katie had yet to even reach 30 as she was still so young and vulnerable. She had not truly experienced life as he had and it definitely showed. But oh, the way she practically stripped naked for him only a few days ago had awakened something inside of the dark blonde. He longed to touch her bare skin again as she was so smooth, soft. A hand slid down the length of his torso as it crept underneath the band of his sweatpants. Pine stopped and swallowed hard, trying to fight the urge to touch himself to the thought of her. “I can’t.” He pulled his hand out from his pants and growled softly as his cock had grown semi-hard. Curiosity was a bitch as Jonathan examined his hand, bending his fingers around nothing and imagining just how soft Katie’s full breasts would feel beneath his palm. This same hand had been the one to come close to her pussy, but only rest upon her thigh. Logic and reasoning were losing a game that had never been in their court to begin with as an amorous fog clouded Jonathan’s mind. His hand slid back down into his sweatpants and he bit his lower lip as he was now fully erect. “Shit.” He groaned and slid his pants past his hips and took a hold of his cock, stroking it slowly at first. As he touched himself, his mind went back to Katie and the sounds she made from that day. Her panting, soft moans and needy movements that simply implored Pine to continue further and possibly claim her. “Katie- Oh shit.” His brows turned upwards as his hand moved faster, the precum that dribbled from the sensitive head of his cock helping with lubrication. His breaths came out in short bursts, imagining that it was the young brunettes hand wrapped around his impressive length. Jonathan could only imagine how mind blowing she would feel with his cock buried deep inside of her pussy and squeezing him. Seeing her grab the sheets as he pounded into her while she cried his name out and that one word that drove Pine over the edge. His thumb swiped over the weeping slit of his cock and a shudder ran through his body from how sensitive he was. “Fuck.” He cursed, twisting his wrist slightly as he continued to bring himself to a finish. Seconds later, his breathing became choppy and hips jerking upward as he fucked himself into his fist. “K-Katie.” His eyes squeezed shut as he came all over his stomach, spurts still squirting from his length while he stroked the rest of it out. After a few moments, Jonathan came to and licked his dry lips, smacking the hand that wasn’t occupied to his forehead. “Fuck it’s like I’m back in school.” He muttered to himself and carefully reached over, grabbing a few tissues from his bed side and wiping off his fluids. Once he was certain he was cleaned off, Pine tucked his now soft member back into the confines of his sweats, pulled the pants back in position and sat up.

Jonathan looked over as he saw his phone buzzing on the bedside table and picked it up. Angela was calling him. “I can’t.” He said to himself and threw the phone aside, not wanting to risk the previous hypothesis from earlier before. He fell back against his mattress, puffing his cheeks and blowing out air. These next few weeks would more than likely break him if not completely destroy him. Even by the end, what would become of him? Would Angela understand his reasoning? There had to be a loophole somehow. There just had to be. Pine would not take no for an answer.

“Holy shit.” Katie winced, examining the blackened bruise on her hip. She had just returned from the doctors after Pine’s incessant pestering and found her hip had almost been fractured. The gash on her collarbone to her shoulder had been patched up as best as it could. Her nose had been realigned, albeit with a nasty crunching noise. Other than that, Katie had been extremely lucky to escape with the minimal injuries she had. Shaking her head, she looked out of the bathroom and grimaced at the absolute mess she had the displeasure of cleaning up. “Nope. Shower first.” she muttered and carefully rid herself of her filthy clothing. Normally, she would have been absolutely mortified to go to the doctor in such a state. However, this time was different and all she wanted to do was get back to her flat and sleep. She hissed as the hot water hit her grimy skin, moving away and pressing herself up against the wall. After a few seconds, she felt more comfortable to get under the spray of water. Grabbing her nail scrubber, she quickly went to work on getting all the dirt and blood caked underneath her nails, grossed out by the residue the brush cleaned out. When she finished with that, she reached for her shampoo next and hummed in content as her fingers massaged the suds into her scalp. It felt so nice to be in her own shower and wash the very eventful day away. She wondered if Pine had also taken a shower-

“Why am I thinking about him?” She asked herself and rolled her eyes, rinsing her hair out before grabbing her loofah and sudsing it up. As she scrubbed it along her body, Katie let out a soft moan as the material scratched against her nipples. For a moment, she stared at her breasts and set the loofah down to grab her mounds. Her mind wandered to thoughts of how Pine’s large hands could easily hold each in his hands. Katie began to grope her chest and pinch experimentally at her now hardened buds. She continued to massage her breasts, the soap providing some slippery motion. Eventually, one of her hands traveled south the more she thought about Jonathan and how erotic he sounded panting in her ear. That part of the trip along with when she danced with him, was something she would soon not forget. “J-Jonathan.” Her voice turned a little husky as she rubbed her clit in circles gently. Katie’s brain became muddled with thoughts of the agent she so vehemently begrudged. She gasped, slipping a finger into her pussy and whimpering at how wet she had become in the short amount of time in the shower. “Mm!” She slipped a second finger inside of herself and began to move her fingers in and out, wondering how Jonathan’s long fingers would feel inside. It had been far too long since she last touched herself as she felt disgusting after what happened with Travis. “Jonathan- please!” She gasped again, moving her hand faster and panting a little harder. Her hips began to buck up a little in search of more friction as her hand was not enough at all. “Jonathan!” She moaned his name over and over, part of her wishing he would hear her wanton cries. Katie wanted that man to destroy her in every way possible, give her bite marks to show everyone who she belonged to and make her his.

The young woman found the idea of never belonging to anyone else but Pine to be something of a dream. She would not mind at all if she could never be with another man but him. Despite the large age gap, it didn’t bother Katie in the slightest and she found it more of a turn on than anything. “A-Ah!! Oh my g-god!! Jonathan!!” She whimpered, hitting a spot inside of her pussy that sent waves of pleasure throughout her body. “Daddy!!” She squealed, rubbing her clit and slamming her other hand against the wall for support. “Jonathan!!” She was so close as her fingers rubbed faster but that was shortly stopped as lo and behold, Jonathan Pine himself slid the door open and had a full view of her body.

His cheeks became a dark pink as he couldn’t help but stare at the gorgeous woman before him, her skin shining from the water that ran down her body. Pine’s jaw fell agape and any sexual pent up energy he had came back with full speed. “I-I’m so sorry. I just- I heard you and- wanted to make sure-” He continued to scramble for words, eyes focused on her body. “I’ll just g-go.” He nodded, sheepishly closing the door and swiftly exiting out of her bathroom.

Mortified, Katie stood there frozen and pleasure gone. Two seconds later, she blinked and removed her hand from between her legs and stared at the now closed door. Had she really been that loud? “Pine?” She called out, wondering if he was still there. No reply. “PINE!?”

Jonathan stopped mid walk just after he had decided to leave and forget about why he had originally come down to her floor. Had he just heard her call for him this time? Not deliciously moan his name? Pine took a deep breath, calming himself despite the obvious arousal very much threatening to tent his sweatpants. Turning around, he walked back and entered the bathroom with his nerves lit. “Yeah? Er, you did call me instead of er.. You called?” His voice cracked slightly.

“Yes. I did.” Katie leaned against the shower door and her eyebrows knit together. Why did she call him back over? Was it because of the fact she had been masturbating to the thought of him and that she wanted to make that scenario happen? She pressed her thighs together, arousal returning. If it weren’t for her lack of a sex life and hormone induced brain, this would have never happened. “Do you want to take a shower with me?” She ate her words almost immediately as she heard his foot shift and his breath stifle for a moment. They had literally just been over this today! Katie knew that she was digging a deeper hole and couldn’t find the means to stop. “I-I mean, I’m having trouble reaching my back and the doctor told me that I shouldn’t use my left arm.. Too much… yeah.” She partially lied. No turning back now. She made this bed now she had to lay in it.

Thinking back on earlier, Pine found this incredibly strange and he knew he should turn her offer down, but once again the power of pelvic sorcery won over logic. “Will you be ok with that? I don’t mean to over step boundaries or seem like I am taking advantage of you.” He bit his lip and shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Yes! I mean, yeah I’m ok.” She slapped herself mentally for her resurfacing libido answering for her. For a second, she thought that maybe Jonathan took back his reply as the only thing she heard was the fan and shower running. All thoughts were quickly dismissed as he opened the shower door, looking down at her with his darkened blue eyes. Katie found herself staring into his eyes like many times before, enchanted with his sharp features. She didn’t even try to cover her naked body and felt his gaze drinking every inch of her exposed flesh. The brunette also had a good view of the naked man in front of her. It was like he was carved from fucking stone by the Gods themselves. He was beautiful and just muscular enough for her taste. Katie’s hands flew up to her mouth when her eyes traveled further down but immediately flew back up. She could feel her face grow hot from the view she had gotten. Pine was huge. There was no way all of him could fit inside of her, but Katie was one to try anything once and saw more positive than negative.

“I thought this was just a shower?” His voice had deepened with arousal, taking a step forward and cornering the shorter woman. “Katie, did you really need help washing your back? Or did you call me in here to get my hopes up in the possibility of having sex? I’ll be honest with you right now, despite how you feel about me; when I see you like this-” His hand twitched, itching to feel her, “I don’t want this to be another incident like in Russia.” He cautiously raised his hand up to her face, his thumb gently tracing her bottom lip. “Please, tell me the truth Katie. I had come here with intentions of offering you a place to stay until your room got squared away but now, it seems that I have other intentions. Tell me now so that I am not lost later on or even regret anything that could happen in this moment. I will respect whatever decision you make and it will not impact on how I feel toward you.” His heart thudded loudly, confused by his own words. How much did he really feel toward her? Was it just this moment out of lust?

The girl looked away from him and let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his hand on her skin. What she was doing was completely wrong and she felt horrible by leading him on just because she had been horny. If what he said was indeed true, then what she had made a decision on would be alright. Katie looked back up at Jonathan and felt tears in her eyes, the past events of yesterday catching up with her now. “Hold me.” She whispered, wrapping her arms around his torso and pulling her naked body tightly against his own. The feeling of safety rushed through her as soon as Pine’s arms returned her gesture and held her as equally tight. She began to cry softly and rest her soaked head on Pine’s chest, just letting everything out as he held her. This did not mean she forgave him of any sort but it was the first baby step in figuring out what they were truly meant to be.

“Shh..” One of Jonathan’s hands came to rest against her head as he stood there under the hot water, holding her. He was glad that this had been her final choice and was more than happy to provide any sort of comfort to the shaken young woman. “It’s ok, we’re gonna get through this together. I will make certain that we will see this bloody conundrum to the end, then if you really want to forget me and go home… I understand.” He placed a gentle kiss on top of her wet head, his arousal now vanishing in favor of tenderness.

“I don’t wanna go back home.” she sniffled, taking a deep breath and allowing a few more tears to fall. “There’s nothing back for me except a boring life without purpose- Tr-Travis-” She was quickly hushed by the man holding her.

“Don’t think about him, sweetheart. He’s not here and he will never hurt you so long as I am around.” Jonathan pulled away from the embrace to look her in the eyes, making sure that she knew he was being serious.

The words of Jonathan Pine promising that he would never let any sort of harm come to her from that monster caused Katie to cry harder. “C-Can I stay with you tonight? Please? I’m sorry about today, I’m sorry I’m stupid, I’m sorry I’m a rookie and a burden and-” She felt one of Pine’s slender fingers touch her lips.

He shook his head at her and took her arms gently in his large hands, “You are far from stupid, Katelyn O’Connor. You may be a pain in the ass at times, but never would I insult your intelligence. All rookies can be burdens but the best agents start from that.” He reached up, turning the water off and getting out of the shower. “Come on then, don’t want you pruning up.” He smiled softly and extended a towel to the brunette as he dried himself off. Once she had taken the towel from him, Jonathan scooped his clothes up and changed into them before exiting the bathroom to give her a bit of privacy despite having just seen her naked form. He saw how sad she looked coming out with an oversized t-shirt and boxers, going to her ruined bed to resign herself there for the night. “You can come and stay with me for as long as you like. I have a couch that I’ll take on for myself-” He raised his eyebrows as he noticed her shaking her head. Not another word was said between the two as Katie grabbed her necessities quickly, with some help from Pine before making their way to his flat.

“Can you hold me again?” she muttered like a shy child, biting the inside of her cheek as she dropped her pillow onto his bed. Katie knew she was bound to have nightmares and needed Pine to hold her so he could chase them away. Little did she know, she did the same for him.

Jonathan gave her a smile, “Of course. Come on, we’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow and we can discuss more in the morning. You can brush your teeth and do your business first, I’m gonna read over the instructions one more time.” He moved out of the way for Katie to take care of her nightly rituals. Pine’s cell phone began to ring again and when he looked over, it was from an unknown number. An ominous feeling passed through the dark blonde as he picked it up and slid his thumb to the right over the screen, “Hello?”

“Brilliant! I was hoping I reached the right person.” The males voice paused as he received no answer from the other person on the line. “What? Don’t you recognize an old friend's voice? Come on Pine! Birch! Whatever you go by at the moment.”

Pine’s knuckles became white and he looked over at the bathroom door before heading out into the hall. “How the fuck did you get my number, Roper?”

#the night manager #the night manager canon divergence #jonathan pine x ofc #jonathan pine #tom hiddleston #spies in love #flowers in blood #my writing #writing #fanfic

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masked-buffoon · 4 years

Text

Chapter 8: The withering flower (Part 3)

Warnings: violence

Author notes: some interaction with Akutagawa...! What do you think will happen?

Akutagawa had demanded me to meet at the river. I had been given treatment in the headquarters of the Port Mafia and had been summoned as soon as the wound had been stitched, requiring me to go out once again. That man was not even on time, I wondered what could be so important for making me wait so long. Casually, I leaned onto the bridge, staring at the flowing river beneath my feet. I did not want to die yet, but the world would surely be grateful if my breath were to stop before the end of the day. Whatever... There was no point in committing suicide, since my ability would take care of the job very soon.

"There you are." I did not honour him with a glance as he approached "It's rude to be late, were you not taught properly?"

"I have no lesson to receive from someone who lost her entire team because of her incompetence." Akutagawa hissed, getting closer to me.

"Did you call me only to scold me?" I raised an eyebrow, shoving a hand into my pocket "You'll waste your breath."

"You...!" He groaned "I've not come to lecture you. A weak pawn will merely stay a weak pawn, whatever I can say. But I judged you had to know; we have recorded moves from Dazai-san."

"Dazai...? You found him...?" My eyes widened.

"To be exact, he was seen around the town, but he is skilled at hiding his presence. It is a matter of time before we put our hands onto him." He shrugged "That's all."

"Why, thank you for telling me..." I frowned, surprised there was nothing more "But, Akutagawa..."

"What?"

I dared grab his collar to pull him closer to me, glaring at him with renewed fierceness.

"I won't let you interfere in this person's life..." I threatened "He chose to leave on his own volition, forcing him back would be disrespecting his choice."

"Are you the one saying that?" He got rid of my grip annoyingly "He left you. He left us! He never answered the message I sent him! Do you think he cares about you...?!"

"He doesn't..." I conceded, looking away "He doesn't care about me... As to your message, I believe it is not the one he would have wanted you to send..."

"What the heck...?! He wanted me to be strong! I showed him I was, so —"

"You are strong!" I cut him "You are strong, the strongest of the Port Mafia, but you are so impulsive! Why could you never understand that Dazai had long ago acknowledged your strength...?"

"He didn't! Whereas, to you... He tried to kill me! He even ordered you to shoot me! Whereas he tried to keep you alive! Why...?! Even when you were called a disposable pawn, he kept you!!" He yelled, holding my shoulder so tightly I thought he would break my joint "Why?!"

"Because we are not the same!" I defended, pushing him away "He wanted you to become stronger, he never intended to kill you...! I am weak, very weak, perhaps too weak... I could not become stronger if he broke me down, that's why... In a way, he valued you a lot, Akutagawa..."

"But he never said it!!" He denied my words "How would you know something he didn't say?! You —"

"He said it!"

He became silent, and he backed a few steps from me, holding onto the railway of the bridge.

"What...?"

"He told me..." I admitted "He said you'd become the strongest asset of the Port Mafia if you could control your strength and be calmer... He also added that you were a blade in need for a sheath... That's why, that day, when you were fighting at the Art Museum, Odasaku came to help you, because Dazai valued you..."

"He never told me... He never complimented me!!" He argued "That doesn't mean anything if those words are not directed to me...! And he left me anyway!"

"Then make him say them, the words you yearn to hear!" I challenged him "Prove him you can become someone worth his praises...! Show him that you —"

"I don't need your advice!!"

Everything happened quickly; his brutal move made me bump into the railway and the loss of my balance was enough to make me fall backwards. His hand never grabbed mine in time. Within seconds, I fell down into the river, back hitting the water harshly.

The world under the water was dark and the light barely crossed the surface toward my eyes. I lacked air, and my tired lungs could not hold my breath in much longer. I closed my eyes to give up; I had been forsaken by the world, and it was getting rid of me so simply, without even waiting for The Sweet Appeals to end me. I wondered if Akutagawa had purposely pushed me, but I did not want to think so; he had been genuinely shaken by my words and I had seen him reaching out to me at the last moment. Somehow, although I despised and hated him, I hoped he would grow and try to understand how to keep control of his emotions, mostly his constant rage. He was still a child, he needed guidance... In a way, I would have wanted to provide him that guidance as well... I should have talked to Nakahara-san about this matter...

My lungs burnt as air entered them again and I coughed to evacuate the water which had invaded them. I was back to the surface and lied on the riverbank. Carefully, I sat up and looked for the person who had saved me. Akutagawa? No, he would not have gone to such extents for me. Then...

"I did not know suicide was your thing, too."

This voice... I turned around, eyes widening toward the one who had jumped in the river to keep me alive. This face, those eyes, this hair... I pursed my lips, and lowered my eyes at the grass.

"It is not... It has never been..." I shook my head "I don't need it to let go of the world."

"Letting go of the world...?" He tilted his head to the side, letting the late rays of sun dry him off "You...?"

"Why..." I stood up "What did you expect by depriving me of your ability, Dazai? That I would miraculously start controlling it? If that is what you expected, I'm afraid your plans were a failure. Now, thank you very much for rescuing me. And farewell."

I walked away from him. I had been imagining this encounter with him. I had rehearsed the words I would tell him, countless times, if I were given to see him again. I had prepared answers for each of his questions. I had been willing to understand the fact he had left me for the better, so he could move on for himself. Finally, frustration and resentment took the better of me and I was the one to leave him behind, this time. All this time... Had he ever cared about me the least...? To be aware of my condition and removing my sole treatment... How cruel could this man be?

"Ogawa…" He grabbed my wrist "I don't want you to go… Let's talk a bit…"

"Let go of me…" I brushed his hand away "We might have met today, but it was pure coincidence. Did I interrupt your suicide attempt? If so, my apologies. Goodbye, now."

You didn't interrupt anything…! In fact, I've come to take you back, you whom I lost... I've been thinking, recently, and —"

I shot him a glare.

"I... Am not a furniture nor a piece of cloth you forgot when you moved to another place, Dazai... This time, you did not lose me. You left me, which is fairly different if you want my opinion." I retorted "Don't try to make me believe your 'care' was genuine... I'm not falling for that ever again..."

"Please..." He tried to hold me back once more "Please listen to me... There was not a single day I did not regret leaving without you, there was not a single day I did not think about seeing you, but I could not..."

"Wait for me..." I remembered, pulling the soaked piece of paper out of my coat pocket "I've waited. Days, weeks, months. And you weren't coming. So I gave up. I stopped waiting. I stopped hoping."

I shoved the paper against his chest, upset. I had never wanted to be so aggressive toward him, but I could not hold back those feelings I had kept for myself so long.

"I'm sorry —"

"Sorry is unnecessary if you don't mean it..." I cracked a smile "At least, I hope that you respected Odasaku's last wish and became a better man... No, I really do think you did it, because Odasaku was someone you truly cared about."

"I had to hide for two years...!" He told me "I could not be involved with the Mafia, I could not —"

"If you had taken me with you, instead of leaving me wounded in the middle of that mission, you would never have needed to think about such matters…! Besides, was there ever a time you fully respected the rules? The truth is, you care as much about me as you care about other people. You used me and my loyalty. You used my trust for your own interest, and when the pawn became disposable, you lost interest in it. I don't want to be hurt believing in you again." I stated "I... Have always tried to convince myself you had reasons for abandoning me... That I was a burden, that you did not want to be reminded of Odasaku, of the Mafia... But I came to think that if those were the reasons, then there was never a time you truly cared about me. And it hurts... A lot... To think the promise I made you was so meaningless you broke it for me..."

"I'm sorry... I mean it..." He grabbed my shoulders "Please do not cry... I'm sorry... I did not want to leave you behind... I truly thought that I would be able to barge in your room soon after leaving the Mafia, to take you with me... But I could not... The government ordered me to stay hidden two whole years, and I immediately regretted I did not leave with you..."

"You took the time to bomb Nakahara-san's car..." I frowned.

"I had set the bomb days ago..." He chuckled slightly "I would have wanted to come sooner..."

"Do you know..." I looked up at him, cheeks strained by tears "Do you know what hurts most...? It's that I can't stop trusting you... No matter what you did, no matter how you made me suffer, I will always keep believing you, because you are Dazai, because I, for one, care about you... But understand that you betrayed this trust...! I fear that if I give in again, you will take these feelings and wreck them another time... Understand that I wish not to be in pain...!"

"I understand... Your feelings are human, after all..." Dazai looked down "I cannot force you to stay by my side again if it hurts you..."

"I simply do not want to believe you sincerely are concerned about me anymore..." My voice became a whisper "I do not want to be deceived... You should know this sensation, shouldn't you? The fear of being deceived by the ones you care about..."

"Ogawa..."

"I really wish to take your hand and run away with you, away from the Port Mafia... But somehow, being far from you avoids me from being so accurately in pain..." I backed away from him "If you were to abandon me again... I might not survive..."

"I —"

"Dazai-san...?"

Akutagawa appeared in my field of view. Had he been looking for me...? It was impossible, he had surely been attracted by Dazai's tall silhouette. But even so… The boy approached us and stood right in front of his mentor, eyes filled with a tint of hatred and a lot of admiration. It made me flinch. The former executive had never been tender toward him, yet Akutagawa was ineluctably drawn toward him. He had guided him for two years, after all, although he had been tough and ruthless.

"Dazai-san..." He repeated, voice so low, almost broken "You came back?"

"I did not come back, nor did I come for you." Dazai stared at him, brows raised smugly "I came for her."

I wondered if he was aware he was literally sending me to death by saying such a meaningful sentence.

"N-No..." I wanted to protest "He —"

A powerful hand tightened around my neck, choking me and depriving me from any way to breathe. I gasped, trying to pry his fingers away from me, but I was too weak compared to him and could not do much against his powerful limbs.

"You...! You thought you could trap me with your honeyed words...! Whereas you were just waiting for the opportunity to go with him...!!" He yelled, pressing against my trachea.

"I... Did not..." I could hardly talk.

I started feeling dizzy, yet my ability, constantly working, would not allow me to peacefully lose consciousness. Instead, it made me suffer from the pain around my throat.

"Let her go."

The order was firm and accompanied by a gun pointed onto the boy's head.

"To think you'd ever menace me for someone..." Akutagawa let go of me.

I was dropped on the grass and immediately held onto my bruised neck, inhaling as much air as my body needed to recover from hypoxia. Then, out of reflex, I pulled out my box of pills and shoved ten of them in my mouth, hoping they would relieve the pain from the sudden attack. What was Dazai doing, while we were arguing...?

"Stand up, Ogawa." He demanded.

Rashōmon wrapped around my body, helping me up, but instead of retracting afterwards, the ribbons of energy tightened around my arm and forced me to pull out a gun, to point it onto Dazai.

"You cannot die because of my ability..." He grumbled "So die by the hands of the one you came for...!!"

"Stop it..." I paled "Don't do that...!"

I resisted so much against the restraints that the joints of my shoulder dislocated itself, but it did not stop Akutagawa from using me like a puppet.

"Relax...! If you bring his head back to the Boss, you won't be called a disposable pawn anymore." He huffed "And you could be transferred under Nakahara-san. Wouldn't that make you happy, worthless tool...?!"

"No...!" I shook my head, struggling not to press the trigger "I would rather die than killing Dazai...!!"

"Then I'll kill you right after." He shrugged "Now..."

Bam. The bullet left the pistol as my finger's bones snapped and it pressed the trigger without any resistance. I gasped, closing my eyes, unwilling to see how I had killed the one I cared about the most, my only reason to live, whom I had finally met again after all this time longing to see him alive. I was too weak... I was incompetent, so much I could not even protect the people I cherished... Akutagawa was right... Why was I even alive...? If I had died years ago, perhaps Dazai would still be living and smiling at someone who would not be me. If we had never met...

"Please..." I sobbed "Kill me... Kill me, Akutagawa..."

"Hoh~ I really thought I would die~"

"You are tough..." His former protege commented, clicking his tongue.

"This kind of poor aim would never hit me." He mocked "The bullet went way past my head. If you had let Ogawa do it herself, I might not have survived~"

"Then, I'll have to kill you myself...!!" He barked, crouching down to take the gun I had dropped.

Something clicked into my mind, a forgotten instinct I had not used for years. My body was moved by a strange impulse, and I jumped onto Akutagawa, gripping him with all my strength despite how painful my shoulder felt, and we both fell on the floor. Then, I took the opportunity that he was too astounded by my behaviour to punch his face, once only, for he was quick to regain composure and absorb the shock with his ability.

"Weapons are for the weak..." I gritted my teeth as he hit my jaw "Don't you always say that...?!"

"You..." He growled "Useless pawn...!"

"Ogawa —"

"Your inner desire..." I struggled against him with a strength I was not aware I possessed "Your inner desire is to earn praise from Dazai... You want to be told that you are strong... Because, in fact, you think you are the one being worthless...! You are afraid to be abandoned...!"

"That's untrue...! What do you know of that?!"

"I don't even need to use my ability to see you're just a brat who lacks affection...!" I snapped.

"Stop it, you two!" Dazai shouted behind us "Akutagawa, don't —"

Blood splashed onto Akutagawa's face and my grip loosened onto his body. I coughed, blood, and my eyes fell onto the strange ribbon of dark energy wiggling in my chest. I collapsed on the grass, energy leaving my body, suddenly feeling exhausted. I had a hard time keeping my eyes open.

"Now... You've done it, Akutagawa..." I found a way to laugh despite the overwhelming fatigue taking over my body "Finally..."

"I didn't mean to... I didn't want..." He frowned, backing away from me "Dazai-san... He won't forgive me..."

I heard his footsteps getting away quickly from the scene, and deduced he had run away from us. It did not matter, anyway...

"Ogawa...!!" Dazai crouched down "Why... You idiot... Throwing yourself onto him like that..."

"I..." I cracked a poor smile, putting a bloody hand onto his cheek "Lied, earlier..."

"Don't talk... I'll bring you to a doctor...!"

"I... Was really happy... To see you again..." I confessed "I... Knew you couldn't do anything against a gun... That's why..."

"You fool..." He brought me close to him "Idiot... You are my friend, how could you sacrifice yourself for me...?"

"Your... friend...?" I looked at him "How...?"

"A friend..." He repeated, picking me up "A friend I have hurt and left behind... But... I'm definitely not going to let that happen ever again..."

I coughed, sensing my whole body going numb thanks to his ability. I nuzzled my cheek against his shoulder, finding the tempting spot comfortable, and closed my eyes, exhaling slowly.

"I'm going to take a nap..." I breathed out "It's been a while..."

"Please, don't die..."

"How could I, when I finally get to see you...? But I need to close my eyes a moment..." I told him "I can't believe... You're doing all of that for me..."

"That's because, you too, are a person whom I deeply care about, Ogawa..."

#bsd #bsd oc #bsd fanfic #bsd dazai #bsd imagines #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs oc #dazai osamu #akutagawa

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yandere-society · 5 years

Text

Day 5 | A Slytherin Christmas

Synopsis: Your boyfriend only ever seems to smile for you. What’s it going to take to convince him to let loose and enjoy your last Christmas at Hogwarts?

The 12 Days of Black Christmas Event Masterlist

Pairing: Slytherin!Jimin x Slytherin!Male Reader

Admin: @psycho-slytherin

Trigger warnings: yandere themes, mind control, implied violence

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“Jimin~” you sing, throwing your arms around him from behind. Your boyfriend stiffens for a moment before relaxing into your hug.

“Hey, y/n,” he replies, lifting your head to his lips and pressing a kiss into your palm. You have to keep yourself from melting; he’s just so perfect.

You used to be against the idea of dating another Slytherin– what if you broke up and still had to have all your classes together? Hell, you used to be against the idea of dating another guy. But in fifth year, Park Jimin came along and changed your mind. He was the kind of boy that made you want to throw caution to the wind, but even then, Jimin had to pursue you for a while before you did agree to go out with him. How lucky that he was so persistent, you think, pressing your face into his cloak and inhaling deeply. You’ve been together ever since.

“You’re cheery today,” Jimin says with amusement, playing with your green-and-silver tie.

“Christmas is right around the corner,” you chirp, bouncing to your feet. Your friends always thought you were too optimistic for Slytherin house, but isn’t your famed ambition a form of optimism? Plus, no one realizes how much easier is it for you to get people on your side when they trust you. And they always trust you, just because you’re so trusting.

“And…?”

“And it’s our last Christmas together.”

“It’s our last Christmas at Hogwarts,” Jimin corrects you. “I love you, y/n, I’m sure we’ll spend the next year together too.”

You grin. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Welllll… it’s still our last Christmas at Hogwarts, and I know you never want to do anything for the holidays, but I thought that this year…” you tug at his arm until he begrudgingly stands up, “Maybe we could actually celebrate?”

“We celebrate every year with the feast,” Jimin replies.

“You know what I mean! I want to do presents, and games, and walk together in Hogsmeade, and… spend some time alone.” You give him your best puppy eyes. “Please?”

“Alone time is hard to come by in this castle,” your boyfriend says, brushing shiny black hair out of his eyes.

You droop, shrugging off your cloak. “I know, I just wish… I mean, I told my parents I’d be staying here for the holidays. Even though they want me home to celebrate being Head Boy. But I stayed–.”

Jimin groans. “Y/n, don’t do it.”

“– Just so I could be with you~” you look at him through lowered lashes, summoning every ounce of manipulation you possess. “Because I want our last Christmas here to be special…”

Your boyfriend sucks on his teeth. “You, sir, drive a hard bargain. Fine. I hereby promise to make this the best Christmas you’ve ever had.”

Yes! You grin, feeling as though you’re going to burst with excitement. You love Christmas. And you love Jimin. Isn’t it wonderful when things work out like this?

Jimin, for some reason, has never liked the holidays. You’ve tried asking him why, but he’s never given you a straight answer. He always stays at school for Christmas break, and after fifth year you chose to stay with him. Still, come Christmas Day, all he would do is stay in the common room until dinner.

You’re determined to change that. This is going to be the best Christmas ever.

As the week drags by, more and more of your classmates say goodbye to Hogwarts for the holidays, and the common room becomes emptier. Not nearly soon enough, Christmas Eve is upon you, and after the grand feast, full of Christmas crackers and tipsy house-elves, you retire to your dormitory, the one you and Jimin have shared with the other Slytherins your age for seven years. The gift you made for Jimin is tucked under your bed.

Tomorrow’s going to be brilliant, you think to yourself as your eyes flutter closed. You can’t wait to see what your boyfriend has planned.

“Good morning, sunshine,” a sweet voice croons in your ear, and you rub your eyes, smiling.

“Good morning, Jiminie,” you reply, yawning. You feel oddly chilly, even though the dormitories are enchanted to feel the perfect temperature. It’s not until you blink and finally notice your surroundings that you sit up straight, your blood running cold. “Jimin… where are we?”

For you’re no longer in your cozy dorm. You’re in some sort of shack, built of mossy stone and weakened wood planks. You can feel icy gusts of wind whistling through cracks in the walls. Jimin stands in the far corner of the hovel, surrounded by dozens of perfectly wrapped presents.

“Merry Christmas, y/n,” Jimin says, his usually-bright smile not quite reaching his eyes. He waves his wand, and Christmas carols begin playing in every corner of the room.

“M-merry Christmas,” you manage to respond. “Uh, where are we?”

“The Shrieking Shack,” Jimin replies, shrugging. “You said you wanted to be alone.”

“This isn’t exactly what I meant.”

Jimin narrows his eyes. “You wanted to be alone. We’re alone. You wanted presents and games,” here he sweeps his arm around, showcasing the many gifts on display– “And here we go. I’m just trying to make you happy, y/n.”

You relax– how could you ever have doubted him? It’s your Jimin who planned all this, just for you. “Thank you, Jiminie,” you say, hugging him tightly. Jimin doesn’t relax into the hug.

In fact, he doesn’t relax at all, until suddenly you feel a wand pressed against your back and a whispered word in your ear: “Imperio.”

“Jimin–?” you gasp, feeling your features relax against your will.

“You wanted the perfect Christmas,” you hear your boyfriend’s voice echo in your head, although in front of you his lips haven’t moved. “And I can’t give you the perfect Christmas if you try to run.”

“I wouldn’t-” your mouth suddenly closes and you nearly choke from the shock. I wouldn’t run, you cry out in your mind, tears beginning to form. I’d never run from you!

“Enough,” Jimin says softly, reaching out to pet your hair. “Open your gifts, I hope you’ll like them.”

Obeying a force you don’t understand, you mechanically kneel on the floor beside the mountain of presents and begin opening them one by one: A book. A new Slytherin scarf. Socks. Tea. More.

“T-thank you,” you say eventually, the floor now littered with wrapping paper.

Jimin makes you stand, looking very satisfied with himself. “Are you happy, my love?”

No. You’re not. “I’m scared,” you whisper, once he allows you your vocal chords.

Jimin eyes change immediately, the soft brown you’re familiar with replaced with a dark, vengeful fury. “You’re scared.”

You’re rooted to the spot as he stalks towards you, a leopard toying with its prey.

“I did everything you wanted, y/n. I’ve always done everything you wanted. I finally gave you a Christmas, full of presents and songs and alone time, and what do I get?” He tugs at your collar until you’re pressed against him. “I get an ungrateful, scared boyfriend.”

You whimper. “Sorry.”

“Oh, you’re going to be sorry. You want the best Christmas? I’ll teach you the true meaning of Christmas.”

#yandere #bts #yandere fanfic #jimin #jimin x reader #yandere!jimin #boyfriend!jimin #yandere jimin x reader #bts x hp #bts hogwarts au #bts fanfiction #bts oneshot #bts drabble #jimin fanfiction #jimin oneshot #jimin drabble

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wingsofkpop · 5 years

Text

Finding SKZ - 1: CB97

pairing(s): Hybrid!Bang Chan x Reader, Hybrid!SKZ x Reader

genre: Hybrid!AU, Dystopian!AU, heavy Angst, Fluff, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature language, mentions of violence, mentions of abuse

word count: 5,6k

synopsis: After rescuing an abandoned hybrid from his fate of death, he has on other favor to ask of you. Not only do you have to find his eight other hybrid brothers, but you have to keep them safe from the deadly dangers of your city: Miroh

chapter directory

The world isn’t as it was before.

Your great-grandfather used to tell you these words everytime the sun would sink beneath the horizon. You often wonder if he chose to do this on purpose, and somehow, felt safer with the absence of light. It was almost as if his comments were shielded beneath the dark of night, like a grieving wife shields her face with a black, opaque veil. Maybe he was afraid of getting in trouble. To this day, certain people still vanish into thin air without so much as a blink of the eye. Swallowed into the night without a trace.

Your great-grandfather lived in the Old World, before the devastation of WWIII and the rebirth of civilization under the New World. He used to tell stories of his time as a little boy growing up on a planet separated into continents, countries, regions, cities. During this time, different languages ranging from use of words to sounds to hands were spoken and thus, further diversified the population. This was the time before the Mass Genocide, before 95% of the population was taken out by extreme warfare and nuclear technology. Most of the languages and texts died with them, along with most other means to diversity.

Your great-grandfather’s favorite stories to repeat over and over again were those of his travels. His mother had been a successful business woman and continuously received one business trip after the other. They journeyed across the Earth together, visiting countries called Zimbabwe and Jordan and exploring cities like Budapest, Moscow and New York. He said his favorite place was Sydney as the oceans of Australia always seemed to sparkle and the sky always brightened. You’d seen pictures in history books from school, but they never brought his descriptions to justice. He was always good at putting an image inside your head.

You also often wonder what the world would have been like if the war never happened. It’s difficult to believe that your home could have been totally different if one event never occurred. If billions of people never died, would Miroh still have been created? Would the people of the earth still have united into one less than harmonious civilization? Or would there still be fighting? Even if one war could have been prevented, who’s to say the human race would have only been delaying the inevitable. Maybe fate has it set in stone for people to kill each other. The world is run by corruption, power and greed anyway.

That’s one thing that hasn’t changed in the New World.

A vibration sounds within the vicinity. You quickly connect the signal to your cell phone and retract the device from your pocket. Time away from your phone had allowed a collection of notifications to begin, the majority being text messages from your aunt.

Ever since you moved out, she had been keeping a close eye on you. Invitations to dinner, packages in the mail and calls about your day happened almost four, five times a week. And as much as you loved her and her compassionate heart, she failed to realize that you were an adult who could take care of herself. You didn’t need her help. Not anymore anyway.

After your mother’s death at sixteen, your aunt had taken you under her wing. The first few years were tough. You barely finished high school and were less than motivated to attend college. But you knew a decent education is what your mom would have wanted for you, so here you are: A student at one of Miroh’s most prestigious universities.

Your aunt wanted you to stay in the offered dorm rooms, but you couldn’t handle living with a bunch of strangers as roommates. With a portion of the inheritance your mom left, you were able to afford a nice apartment in the city only walking distance from your campus and the coffee shop where you work. And although you would never tell her to her face, you were glad to be a good couple hours away from your aunt’s home. It just made your life much more stress free that way.

You scroll past your aunt’s invitation to Sunday brunch and instead discover the original source of the vibration: Your father.

Your dad and mom divorced when you were about ten, deciding that their marriage was broken and could never be salvaged. Your dad remarried only three months after their official split, and began having children of his own only after a year. Truth be told, your father and you were never close, which is why you initially went to live with your aunt after your mom passed. Even so, you both still make the effort to meet up at least once a month just to catch up. You’ve considered completely cutting him out of your life, but then you remember your mom and what she would have wanted.

You quickly accept your dad’s request on meeting up two weeks from Tuesday, telling him to let you know which restaurant he chooses for lunch. Satisfied, you lock and put away your phone, then return your attention to the vacant cafe. You really shouldn’t be looking at your phone during your shift, and normally you don’t, but your last customer had finished his latte a little over ten minutes ago and left you to your lonesome. And you were the only employee willing to stay to close up shop today, so your coworkers left a long time ago. You didn’t mind though, it’s extra pay.

You glance at the clock across the room, discovering the time to be about five minutes after closing. With a sigh, you untie the apron from around your waist and head into the backroom to grab your stuff. The only issue about staying after late is the walk back to your apartment. It’s not that the paths are unsafe, but more so you hate walking in the dark. The streets tend to become strangely silent at night and it’s not the most easing feeling.

After tugging on your winter coat and securing your bag, you head back into the main shop. You make sure that everything is in place before turning your attention to the doors, which were already locked, courtesy of the alarm system your boss installed a couple weeks ago after the thieving incident. You weren’t there when it happened, but apparently some couple tried to break into the shop while one of your coworkers stayed after to clean. Again, you weren’t there, so you don’t know all the details. But you do know that your coworker ended up in the hospital with a couple broken ribs and a concussion.

You exit the coffee shop and prepare to go on your way, pausing to tug on the door handle just in case. Content in its rigidness, you begin to make your way down the dim and snowy sidewalk. Even though your path is illuminated by various street lamps, your muscles can’t help but tense at every shadow you catch in your peripherals. Maybe you should have considered taking the bus.

You manage to make it the two blocks to your street without fault. The nervous feeling coursing throughout your body lessens substantially now that your apartment building is in your sights. On instinct, your pace quickens and your mind wanders to the things waiting for you at home: A late dinner of ramen to ease the ache of your stomach, a nice, hot shower to take away the chill of winter and your warm bed waiting to be utilized all weekend long.

A sudden clatter has your attention returning to reality. You flinch at the noise and like a deer in headlights, pause. Peering down the alleyway, you’re able to make out a couple silhouettes through the snowflakes and the darkness. All the more reason to run the rest of the way to your apartment. And you move to do so as well, that was until another strange sound reaches your ears. You recognize it to be a cry, human-like and agonizing, as if they were in pain.

Against your better judgement, you pull out a bottle of pepper spray you keep handy in your bag and start to creep into the alleyway. In your other hand, to aim your phone flashlight toward the moving figures, who become rather alerted at your presence. Just when your about to catch a glimpse of their faces, they’re gone, having escaped out the other end of the alley.

A sigh of relief passes through your lungs as your grip on your weapon releases slightly. You turn to exit back onto the street and really return to your home, but that same pained whimper stops you. You snap around again and raise your flashlight, catching the sight of another figure just a few feet in front of you.

After getting closer, you’re able to distinguish the figure was not a human at all, but some sort of male hybrid. Your eyes widen at the wolf-like ears emerging from his blonde scalp and the fluffy tail laid limp at his side. The hybrid was naked from the waist down, exposing a concerning amount of bleeding wounds and dark bruises littering his chest. He looked like he was attacked by something, or someone. The most sickening feature was the fact he was chained to an impenetrable metal pole and had a large muzzle covering his face from the nose down. A large metal cuff encased his right wrist, and by the looks of it, it was tight enough to draw blood which had already long dried against his skin.

“Oh my god,” You murmur, lowering to kneel in front of the hybrid. His deep brown eyes stalk your every move, filled with a blend of fright and sadness which has your heart breaking even more. More cuts and bruises were painted across what you could see of his face, which was also snow white. The realization that he was out here in the cold for god knows how long with barely any clothing hits you fast and hard. Without hesitation, you rip the coat from your body and carefully move toward the hybrid. In a soft voice, you say, “Don’t be afraid, okay? I’m just going to put this around you…”

The hybrid makes no remarks, and for a moment you couldn’t tell if he understood you, much less heard you. After a couple seconds, you decide to test your luck and approach the wounded creature. He doesn’t react and easily allows you to throw the jacket around his quivering body. Because of his broad shoulders and muscular stature, the coat only covers so much of his skin, but it’s better than nothing.

You move onto the next issue: Somehow freeing him from his restraints. The task is a lot easier said than done, considering he was chained so escape was impossible. So, you decide to start with the contraption around his mouth. You warn him of your plan once more, before reaching out to pull the muzzle from around his head. When your hands brush against the tips of his ears, it was like touching ice. You need to warm him up. Fast.

With the muzzle off, more of his face was visible. You can’t help but notice his rather sharp jawline and smooth skin. Knowing yourself, you would have spent more time analyzing his features, but you have a greater concern that requires your attention first,

Gently, you take the hybrid’s wrist into your hands to better inspect the cuff. There was a hole meant for a key, which you obviously didn’t have. You couldn’t exactly break it either, so you decide on the next best option. You quickly grab your bag and pilfer through the contents to find what you’re looking for. With a sigh of victory, you take out the found paper clip and using the pointy end, try to pick the lock. After your fourth attempt, a click sounds in your ears and the metal falls from his wrist with a thud. You don’t spare the time to celebrate though, and instead help the hybrid to his feet.

The two minute walk to your apartment took over twenty, considering the hybrid could barely move and you kept crumbling beneath his immense weight. Luckily, when you do manage to get him through the door, no one is in the lobby to start asking questions (your neighbors aren’t the most private people). You drag him into the elevator, prop him up against the wall and admit an exhausted huff. The ride to your floor is oddly silent and tense, and more than once, you caught your new companion staring at you. You decide not to question it, knowing he’s probably a little scared.

You managed to transport him into your apartment fairly quick and noise free, so not to disturb your sleeping neighbors. The hybrid, for the most part, could stand on his own, which allows you the time to secure your door and toss your unnecessary belongings in a nearby corner. Your next destination is to the sofa, where you quite literally pile blankets on top of him. Later, when he’s much warmer, you’ll run him a bath. You can’t warm him up too fast.

You compile some hot towels and water bottles as well, making sure to only directly apply the towels to his neck and chest. The bottles are hidden beneath the blankets, safe away from any skin to skin contact. Making sure you’ve done everything you can for him at that moment, you rush into the kitchen to cook that ramen you mentioned earlier. Only this time, dinner for you would have to be a bit later than usual.

Five minutes and lots of nail biting later, you’re spooning the soup into a large bowl and sprint back into your living room. You nearly drop the dish in fright, noting how the hybrid’s eyes were shut. After making your presence known though, his eyelids part and expose the sad irises from before. You try not to let his sullen gaze affect you, but you were always an empathetic person and it takes a lot of will not to do so. You’re surprised you didn’t burst into tears how you found him that alley.

“Can you eat?” You ask, kneeling beside the couch to offer him the cup. “It’ll help to warm you up…”

The hybrid doesn’t answer, but moves to sit himself up. You help him, tugging aside a couple of the blankets and replacing the towel that had slid from his neck. He reaches to take the soup from your hands, but you refuse, shaking your head, “I’ll feed you. I don’t want you accidentally spilling it and burning yourself.”

Reluctantly, he nods and allows you to spoon a mouthful of soup onto his tongue. He inhales it greedily, barely taking three seconds to swallow and parting his lips for more. It takes even less time for him to empty the cup than it took for you to make the soup. Once he’s finished, the hybrid leans back and closes his eyes.

You take the time to scan his face, which thankfully had begun to flush with a little color. Like you saw before beneath all the cuts and bruises, his skin was smooth and nearly free of any flaws, mind the occasional acne scar. His nose was long and on the wider spectrum, but fit his features purposely. His lips were badly chapped, a result of time outside in the cold. You made a note to go out and buy some chapstick soon. You could always use some too.

Your eyes can’t help but trail up to his furry ears, hued a light silver. You wonder if he is derived from some sort of dog, or possibly wolf. You weren’t entirely familiar with hybrid species, seeing as this is the first time you have ever met one face to face.

From your biology class, you know hybrids were invented about half a century back. It was actually an accident. Scientists were originally looking for a cure for cancer and attempted to mix human DNA with different kinds of animal DNA. You can’t remember a lot of the details, but they somehow ended up with an embryo for the very first rabbit hybrid, which was then conceived by a human volunteer. From there, they went on to make so many different species, dogs, cats, mice, reptiles. Anything they could get to match with the human DNA. Eventually, they compiled a great enough number to where they could breed amongst themselves. Everybody at that time wanted one.

The public, for the most part, accepted the new creatures. Many people adopted and took care of them as they would regular pets, which was nice since majority of the animals died out during the Mass Genocide.

However, as time went on, life for hybrids became a lot worse. Without any rights, humans began to treat them like, well, like animals. You’ve seen so many news stories showcasing hybrid mistreatment, abuse and cruelty. Just a month ago, one of your friends told you that her dad nearly killed their family’s hybrid for accidentally breaking a plate. It makes you wonder what ever happened to him...

When you lower your gaze back to his eyes, you find the hybrid staring right at you. A couple moments of awkward silence roll by until a gentle smile emerges across his lips. His expression carries over his gratitude, which has the corners of your own lips upturning. When he speaks, or tries to, his sound is hoarse and quiet so it takes you a second to think over his words. Beneath his croak, you can trace the hit of what seems to be an Australian accent. For a moment, you can’t help but think of your great-grandfather’s story.

“I’m Chan.”

Still smiling, you reply, “It’s nice to meet you, Chan. I’m glad you’re alive.”

~~*~~**~~*~~

You didn’t know what was going through your head when you offered Chan a place to stay the morning after the night you basically saved his life. To be honest, you didn’t know what was going through your head the moment you decided to help him at all. Then again, you weren’t just going to leave him out there to die. You couldn’t live with yourself if you allowed that.

It’s been a week since the incident, and Chan is almost fully healed. Most of his bruises faded to gray and all his wounds closed, leaving his skin even more flawless than before. Your guess was right, by the way. Chan concluded that he was a wolf hybrid. You knew by the ears and tail, but really didn’t want to assume.

You tried not to let that concrete knowledge change anything, but you were still a little wary. Most hybrids were known to be derived from domesticated animals, and those that weren’t had a track record of acting out of instinct. One of your aunt’s friends adopted a lion hybrid and ended up in the hospital after it out of the blue attacked her, nearly ripping out her throat.

You didn’t think Chan was capable of such violence though, since the hybrid is sweeter than sweet could be. Yesterday, you woke up to the smell of pancakes and found that he had actually made you breakfast, knowing you had work in just a little under an hour. You felt nice after that. No one has ever done something like that for you. And Chan is a really good chef.

The two of you bonded a lot over the week. Although, you didn’t learn as much about him as he did you. Genuinely, he seemed curious about your life, and given his previous situation, you really didn’t have it in you to voice your annoyance over the issue. What you did manage to find out is vague, but tells you enough about the kind of life Chan has had thus far.

He was created in a laboratory, which is pretty rare for hybrids nowadays, and grew up there. He was thrown in the real world almost three years ago when he was purchased by some guy with a bunch of money. His owner was an asshole (a kind word for you to use honestly) and when he wasn’t beating him, he was neglecting him for days on end and leaving him to fend for himself. That’s how he ended up in that alleyway. The bastard got tired of supporting him and left him to die. You’ve never wished death on anyone before, but this guy really deserves a knife shoved down his throat.

Chan became really quiet after that and sort of shut down for the night. You didn’t mind though. Something like that cannot be easy to remember, much less handle. One thing that almost made you laugh was when Chan expressed his sympathy for the loss of your mother. Although after a while, it made you feel even worse, considering he never even had parents other than the scientists.

Anyway, you made it clear to the hybrid that whatever he decided to do from then on was up to him. You would give him the support he needs either way. However, if he chose to stay with you, you wanted him to at least stay inside the apartment when you weren’t there with him. Hybrids caught traveling without a human escort have two fates: One, they’re taken by the MHA (Miroh Hybrid Association) and put into hybrid adoption centers and pounds, or two, they’re picked up by hybrid traffickers. And even when you took Chan to the store to get some things, a lot of people weren’t happy with the fact he was off a leash. You would never do anything like that to him. And you made that very clear when Chan asked.

You hated the idea of being Chan’s “owner,” which is why adopting a hybrid never interested you in the first place. Unlike most people, you saw hybrids as other types of humans. Sure, their DNA is a lot different, but they still bleed the same color blood. Who are you to collar a hybrid, declare yourself their master and take their freedom away?

You sigh for what seems to be the millionth time in the past hour. Right now, you had no motivation to listen to your psychology professor’s lecture on Freud’s psychoanalytic theory. You already read the chapter over the weekend and completed this week's homework so you were pretty much ahead of the game. You were already studying for your final in a couple weeks. This course was probably the easiest out of your others since it’s based on the textbook. You’re really grateful for that considering you’re not doing the best in your sociology class.

This was the longest time you were away from Chan in the past few days and you didn’t like it one bit. Ever since you walked out the door this morning, your mind couldn’t help but wander to him. You were paranoid about the fact that the hybrid might get himself into some trouble and have no way to contact you. You never gave him your cell phone number, which was stupid on your part. You just hope he’s okay.

Your eyes shift to the clock mounted above the smart board and you have to physically stop yourself from crying out in glee. There was only one minute left until your professor was forced to let you and your classmates run free. You quickly pack your things while also attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible. The last time your professor caught a student packing up early, he had to stay another hour after to help him clean. You can’t afford that today since you promised Chan you would be home in time for dinner.

Once the alarm your professor sets each day before class rings, you’re up out of your seat and making a mad dash for the door. Thankfully, you make it there before the rush occurs and are already outside when everyone else exits the classroom.

You try to keep a fluid pace all the way back to your apartment, but you end up sprinting the final block. When you enter your building, you bid the security guard a quick greeting and slide into the elevator with an elderly couple just when the doors were about to close. The ride takes too long for your liking and once the ding indicating your floor finally sounds, you’re out the machine at lightning speed and fitting the key you already prepared into your door.

When you swing it open, you’re met with an uneasy silence that has your nerves standing on end. Your panic only builds after you call the hybrid’s name and receive no answer. After tossing your bag into its homely corner, you make your way through your apartment, finding both the living room and kitchen empty. Your only other option is Chan’s makeshift bedroom, which used to be your office. You find the door cracked, a single strand of light bleeding into the dim hallway. Hesitantly, you call the hybrid’s name once more and push the door ajar.

Chan was sat at the desk, typing away on your laptop. Beside the computer was a bunch of papers the hybrid had obviously printed out. He was scribbling in a notebook, rather fervidly it seemed. You notice the earbuds you bought him the other day in the wolf ears atop his head and how you could pick up the music blasting through them from where you’re standing. He couldn’t hear you if he tried.

You step into the room and prepare to make your presence known before Chan whirls around in his chair. His eyes immediately find yours and a smile lifts to his lips. He quickly switches off his music and rips the pods from his ears. Still smiling, he hums, “You’re home. Did you just get in?”

“Yeah,” you answer with a grin of your own. It still caught you a little off guard whenever he did things like that. Somehow, he always knew you were there even if he couldn’t hear you calling his name. You move across the room to stand in front of him and continue, “I was thinking about ordering pizza tonight. What do you think?”

Chan nods, “That sounds good. I actually wanted to talk to you about something first.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrows furrow at the odd request. The thought of him possibly leaving makes you sick. He’s only been living in your apartment for a week, but you’ve gotten used to having him around. It’s been hard being by yourself ever since you and your old partner decided to split. Again, you try to ignore the nauseous wave that attacks your stomach and instead say, “Okay. What is it?”

Chan sighs and angles his head to look back at the laptop screen. You’re alarmed by his sudden mood drop and peer over the chair to see what’s stolen his attention. You find an article about an upcoming new exhibit at the Miroh city zoo featuring a never before seen creature. You’re too far away to read anything other than the headline, but you can tell whatever it’s about is extremely important to Chan.

“You remember when I told you I grew up in a lab?”

You nod.

“Well, I wasn’t alone,” Chan reaches across the desk to pick up one of his papers. He checks it before handing it to you, which you accept warily. You lift the piece eye level, glancing across the various sections describing the creation of nine different hybrids. You find what you assume to be Chan:

CB97

Species: Grey Wolf

Creation Date: 10.3.2297

Diet: Meat

Behavior(s) Observed: Calm, patient, only aggressive when provoked

Interaction: Relates well with humans and other hybrids

See page 3 for full report

“I grew up with all eight of them,” Chan explains while you quickly skim through the other reports. “We were like a family.

“Woojin was the oldest after me so he helped me take care of the other boys. He liked to sing too. He had one of the most beautiful voices I’ve ever heard.

“Then there was Minho, the most mischievous and sly guy you’d ever meet. He always found a way to make us laugh, even in the worst of times.

“And Changbin, one of my best friends. He listened to me when no one else would. I remember we used to stay up for hours talking about living freely outside the laboratory… Too bad it didn’t go how we planned.

“Anyway, next were the ‘00 liners: Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix and Seungmin. The best group of people you could ever be stuck in a room with.

“And then our youngest, Jeongin. I worry about him the most. He was so young when I left… All of them were…”

“What happened to them?” You ask.

Chan shakes his head, “I don’t know. We were all separated after they deemed us acceptable to go out into the public. Woojin was the first one to sell, then Seungmin, then me.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Riddled with confusion, you toss the paper back onto the desk and look toward the hybrid expectantly. He holds your gaze for a few seconds, allowing you enough time to catch the desperation and hope embedded within his dark brown irises.

He suddenly turns again, this time reaching for the notebook he was previously writing in. Staring over it, he offers it to you and says, “Here.”

You glance across his messily scrawled notes with a puzzled expression. He had written countless names of different locations, addresses, phone numbers, basically anything you could think of.

You stare at the page, allowing yourself a moment of hesitation before muttering, “You’re going to find them, aren’t you?”

“They’re my family, (Y/N). They’re all I have.”

“You know how dangerous this is, don’t you?” You feverishly shake your head, “Chan, Miroh is the most dangerous place for hybrids. Why do you think I barely let you outside this apartment?”

“I know that, (Y/N),” Chan rises from his seat and grabs your elbows. His sudden touch takes your breath away. “And I will be forever grateful for everything you have done for me. I know you’re a kind person, which is why I’m asking you to help me.”

Your eyes flutter shut when you release a defeated sigh, “What can I do?”

“I just need some supplies and some money. Not a lot, just enough to get me around the city.”

Your eyes shoot open at his request while your head moves to shake back and forth again, “Absolutely not. I am not letting you travel around this city by yourself.”

“(Y/N)-”

“-Don’t argue with me on this, Chan.” You notice Chan’s ears flick in annoyance, but continue to make your case anyway. Like hell are you going to allow him to lead himself into a death trap. “I’ll help you find your brothers. But there’s no guarantee I’m going to be able to keep all of you safe here.”

The hybrid shakes his head, “Don’t worry about that. Once I find everyone, we’re going to find Yellow Wood.”

“Yellow Wood-” Your eyes widen at the mention of the foreign place. From your knowledge, Yellow Wood is a place outside of Miroh where hybrids are said to be free once they cross the border. The only issue is that it’s considered a myth, since whoever travels the journey to Yellow Wood is never seen again. The path to get there is a death trap, so most assume they die and the government buries their bodies. What a way to go.

“I know it seems crazy,” Chan obviously notices your doubtful expression, “But, I know it’s real.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because,” Chan reaches behind his body to grab his tail. Shocked, you watch as he parts his fur to reveal a bronze key sewn into his flesh. He continues, “Back in the laboratory when I was on observation, this one person came to see me.

“They told me that I didn’t belong in this world and that I needed to get out as soon as possible before it’s too late. They gave me this key and told me to find the door that leads down to Hell.”

You scoff, “Great. That easy, huh?”

“(Y/N), please. At least try to believe me.”

Chan’s pleading expression has your stubbornness wavering, especially combined with the sad eyes he bestows upon you. You so badly wanted to believe him, but it’s not that easy. How can you believe in a place that has no evidence of existence?

“I-I don’t think it’s a good idea,” The hybrid’s face falls at your retort. Although, you continue, “We’ll talk about it more when we get there. Right now, we have to work to get there first.”

His mood immediately lifts at the mention of the current situation. He nods in agreement, gesturing toward the paper still between your fingers, “I know for sure where Seungmin is. Before he was taken away, I was able to get the name of the person who bought him.”

“Okay, great. We just need to figure out how to get to him.” Easier said than done.

“I have somewhat of a plan. But, I need your word, (Y/N).” Chan places his hands on your shoulders this time, staring straight into your eyes. You feel your pulse race at his sudden gaze, hoping the hybrid wouldn’t notice the sudden change in your body.

“I trust you, a lot more than I really should. But I need to know that you’re with me. No matter what.”

You don’t hesitate, “You have my word, Chan. Let’s go find your brothers.”

“Stray Kids,” He corrects with a chuckle. “We used to call ourselves Stray Kids.”

You nod, “Okay.

“Let’s go find Stray Kids.”

#stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids au #bang chan x reader #bang chan au #stray kids #bang chan #woojin #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han #felix #seungmin #i.n.#kpop au #kpop fanfic

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arigatouiris · 5 years

Text

revenge is a fool’s game // arthur morgan — [05]

pairing: arthur morgan x female!reader

word count: 3047

warnings: strong violence, mentions of period and blood; emotional distress, mentions of torture, rape and sexual abuse, explicit sexual references, a whole lotta angst, cowboy stuff;

notes: i try to update this regularly, but i can’t keep up omg. anyway, hope you like this chapter!!

not following a taglist for this, i can’t seem to keep track of people who ask so just check on my masterlist~

masterlist in bio~

Chapter Five: Taming Wild Horses, Taming Wild Hearts

○

(y/n) woke up to the sight of blood. It was an every month occurrence, but she was always unprepared, each time. She hoped and prayed she hadn’t stained into her pants, and a sigh of relief escaped her lips when she spotted that they were fine. However, the smell of blood washed over them, something she could hide by grabbing a few herbs on her way out.

It was still dark out, (y/n) was glad; she quickly grabbed the cheesecloth pouch from inside her bag and stuffed it with cotton. She shoved it onto her panty, and cushioned herself. A wave of nausea hit her from the smell, and she was sure that after everyone had slept that following night, she would definitely jump into the river and give herself a bath. She had cramp pains but she could brush it off as being moody; the best part was how she made everyone believe she couldn’t talk. This saved her the excuse of having to explain or deliver any sort of communication with anyone. She quickly tied the bandages around her chest and held a deep breath as she made the final knots. She was ready for the day.

Everyone had been way too easy on her ever since the two of them returned after the incident. John, on the other hand, barely paid her any attention. He’d address her as ‘him’ and ‘he’ now—an unspoken truce was called for. (y/n) understood this as some sort of positive sign, even though John glared at her like he wanted her to drop dead.

Arthur on the other hand, had been way too talkative with her the past few days. It had been close to a week since John and (y/n) came back after the incident, and ever since then, Arthur volunteered to go anywhere with (y/n) and greeted her every time he saw her. She didn’t see this as a sign of infatuation, she didn’t take Arthur to be one who was attracted to the same sex (not that there was anything wrong with it in her mind); however, it seemed almost cautious.

Arthur interacting with her this openly only gave her a few words that he may or may not want her to understand: I don’t trust you, his actions screamed.

She walked out of her tent that morning to spot Arthur near the coffee pot. After washing her face and mouth with water, (y/n) headed over there for some coffee. She knew that the more she avoided him, especially when “nothing was out of the ordinary”, the more Arthur would get suspicious. She had to play it cool and act like nothing was different. She knew Arthur didn’t trust her, but the more clueless she would act, she hoped he would get more lenient with her.

However, both of them knew something was off, even if they didn’t admit it to one another.

“Mornin’ Riley.” Arthur greeted her, in a straight tone.

(y/n) nodded once before setting herself down a few feet away from Arthur, and poured herself some coffee.

“Ya know,” Arthur began. “I always found it strange that John never took a likin’ to ya. He’s a friendly boy.”

(y/n) didn’t move a muscle. She turned to Arthur and observed his features. He looked young, but there was something undeniably sad about the way he carried himself. His dirty brown hair was strangely always neat, and he had a hidden sort of melancholy in his eyes. She almost got lost in starting at him, before he waved at her and grabbed her attention all over again.

“Somethin’ wrong, boy?” Arthur made sure to add ‘boy’ in the end. She could tell.

She shook her head before taking a sip of her coffee. The sun was out, but it was still way too early in the day. Her heart was almost at her throat and her mind was slowly starting to go blank. Arthur Morgan seemed to confuse the hell out of her, and he seemed to enjoy doing so.

“Mind tellin’ me what you thinkin’?” Arthur asked again, pressing her against a corner.

Doesn’t he know I can’t talk? (y/n) thought before sipping her coffee quietly. Her heart was raging against her chest, her feet were itching to start shaking out of nervousness, and her forehead was already drenched with sweat. She was good at keeping secrets, and Arthur was just as good in digging them out.

She then heard a sigh. She turned to see Arthur look her in the eye before getting up and walking away. Her stomach dropped with the thought of the look he gave her before he left, a look that perhaps hinted that he knew more than he was letting out on, a look that scared her more than John’s accusation. Arthur Morgan was no boy, he was a man whose words could be counted upon. Yet, here was no open declaration of her being a liar. There was no denial of her gender or her apparent secrecy.

Arthur Morgan was not even pressing her for answers, yet, this sort of hesitance in his nature of wanting to understand her, scared her. It made her uncomfortable to think that perhaps, Arthur Morgan knew she was a woman and chose to keep it a secret.

And since there was no reason why he would do so, or that she couldn’t think of any, the benefit of the doubt only fell on the fact that perhaps, Arthur Morgan, outlaw and self-proclaimed bad man, kept her secret because of the goodness of his heart. He did not understand her plight and chose not to dwell.

No, she thought before finishing her coffee. I’m overthinking.

○

“There’s a job in town,” Hosea began that noon. “We do this and we pack up. More people have caught our attention at town and it ain’t a good thing to stay and anger ‘em more.”

(y/n) looked down, before checking John’s reaction. The boy’s face was red with anger, but not at something external.

“Don’t worry, Riley, it ain’t yer doin’.” Dutch said, laughing. (y/n) blushed.

“What’s the job?” Arthur asked, smoking a cigarette.

“There’s this man, Donald Briggsman. He’s loaded, and apparently he’s goin’ around tellin’ the whole town that there’s a group o’ no good criminals waitin’ to rob 'em all. The only part that ain’t true of his story is that we ain’t gonna rob the town but him and only him.” Dutch said, with a determined look on his face.

“Turns out he’s good friends with Colm too,” Hosea said now looking at (y/n). “We anger him then we anger Colm, before he comes marchin’ right at us and demandin’ an explanation.”

(y/n)’s heart jumped. Too many things to digest, she thought before gulping.

“So what we do is this,” Hosea began once again. “Riley and Arthur’ll go to town this time and speak to the general shop owner there. Arthur’s gonna do the talkin’, while I want Riley to sneak in and get whatever you can get yer hands on that could be valuable. Make it as distinct as ya can. A day later, I’ll go in and deliver it to the general store owner, admitting to there bein’ a criminal group that ain’t no good.”

(y/n) understood the plot. It was basic, but it could work if it was executed well enough. Hosea will slowly slip out of being suspected for being part of the group, while the attention would fall on Riley and Arthur instead.

“And accordin’ to heresay, Donald’s eldest daughter’s birthday is in a week’s time. Only a select few are gonna be invited to this so here’s hopin’ that returning and being acquitted can have me invited!” Hosea laughed.

This plan can go wrong in so many ways, (y/n) thought, but chose not to say anything.

“And that’s the day we strike,” Dutch said, “It’s the day they least expect us to do anythin’. We’re gon’ rob ‘em, and we’re runnin’ away.”

“Where are we goin’?” Arthur asked, not sounding too intrigued.

“I know a place,” Dutch said, with a glint in his eye. “Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ve got a plan.”

And Arthur believed him.

“Riley, yer gonna need a horse, son.” Hosea said, seriously this time.

She nodded before pulling out her notebook.

I’ll tame one today!

“Tame one?” Hosea asked, cocking an eyebrow at the young boy. Arthur chuckled before shaking his head and walking off.

“You have big dreams for them small hands, son,” Dutch said, laughing before patting Arthur on the back. “Arthur, go with him and make sure he don't die by the time ya’ll have to go to the general store.”

Arthur didn’t want to, but was curious to see how Riley would ‘tame’ a horse. Wild horses were not easy to tame, they’d trample over anyone who came close. Even Arthur couldn’t tame a wild horse, it was almost ten times easier to simply buy one. Then again, Arthur rolled his eyes as he thought of this, Riley here ain’t one of them snot-nosed shirley fuckers who buys whatever and whatnot.

Fifteen minutes later, just after lunch, Riley sat behind Arthur on his horse as they rode off to the forest. Hosea told Arthur that Riley was talking about the area behind their camp, just half a mile into the dense woods. Arthur sighed and decided not to get anywhere close, while Riley gets almost trampled. Arthur promised he’d intervene when he believed the boy will die if he doesn’t.

“You have a thing ‘bout not buyin’ horses, boy?”

(y/n) struggled to write as the horse was running. Everything was a pain at the moment. Riding the horse while she was on her period, having to quietly take in the cramp pain while not even letting a soul know about what she was going through. Her stomach tossed and turned with every step the horse was taking, but she knew she couldn’t even let out a quiet moan of pain. After writing her reply, she leaned forward and showed Arthur what she had written by merely extending her hands forward.

Arthur’s eyes caught sight of what she had written as a response,

Would you buy a baby?

He laughed once before shaking his head. “Aight, but if you die, it ain’t on me.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes and bit her lower lip to swallow a moan. She felt gas well up in her stomach and the urgent need to pass wind hit her face. A wave of nausea hit her once more, before subconsciously gripping Arthur’s shirt from the back. Arthur swore he felt a child’s grip on his back, before turning around silently, catching a glimpse of the boy from the corner of his eye. It seemed like Riley was in a silent sort of pain, and the sight made Arthur slow his horse down a bit.

“Let’s walk from ‘ere.” He said, before getting off.

It took (y/n) a couple of seconds before getting off the horse, making sure not to displace her cheesecloth.

“Ya aight there, Riley?” Arthur asked, making sure not to touch him.

(y/n) nodded before leading him to where she knew the horses were. She had seen them the last time she had come out for a night’s walk, something she didn’t do often. Arthur followed closely behind, spotting something on her that he chose not to disclose. It was not his business until it became so. And until then, he’d keep mum.

A few feet away, both of them saw it. A herd of horses, magnificent and free. A wide range of colors among them—brown, black, while and a couple spotted ones, with wild manes flowing above their heads. Arthur was in awe of such beasts, roaming on their own, carefree and delighted under the sun’s light, understanding slightly why Riley chose not to buy them. You can’t buy such freedom, his mind told him. Look at them, he gasped mentally as the horses rode by themselves, with no one to guide their nature.

She let out a low whistle. While Arthur knew dumb people could whistle, he was still shocked; though, he wouldn’t let Riley know. He watched as the petite boy approached a wild horse that was slightly away from the herd. The horse was mainly white but with a brown mane, a few black spots near the hide. It was a large beast, larger than Riley was for sure, and Arthur thought the horse would merely kick the boy for even trying to go near it.

“Riley, I don’t think—”

Arthur wanted to stop him, but there was something about the way Riley moved that let Arthur know that the petite boy knew what he was doing.

Riley’s arm was extended forward, and a soft whistling followed. It was a tune that Arthur swore he had heard long ago. Riley’s extended hand now came closer to the earth, and this caught the horse’s attention. The horse froze on its spot, staring at Riley who was a few feet away. Riley’s hand slowly reached out once more, but the boy stopped. It was now the horse’s turn. Almost as if it were magic, the white horse approached Riley, sniffing his hand that was extended. Arthur’s heartbeat was matching the sound of drums in his ear. He could not believe his eyes.

The horse smelled Riley’s hand for a full minute, before Riley’s fingers reached and touched the horse’s snout. Slowly, the boy took a step forward and his hand, which was in contact with the horse’s snout, pet the horse’s head now, reaching for its mane, straddling his head and cooing at it with his whistles. Without a second thought, Riley’s other hand reached forward and began petting the horse’s face, with the horse fully comfortable in Riley’s grasp.

The whistling intensified now, and Riley placed his forehead to the horse’s snout, causing Arthur to double take everything he had ever thought of the boy in front of him. He ain’t weak, Arthur thought almost apologetically. I guess there’s a lot of difference between bein’ gentle and weak, he thought, adorning a smile on his face.

(y/n) turned back to Arthur and found him smiling. She smiled back, still petting her new horse. Arthur chuckled once before shaking his head.

○

There was no reason needed for a celebration at camp, (y/n) understood. She chose to call her horse Luna, like the moon. However, she had not told a soul her horse’s name yet. Dutch and the others were busy drinking and partying, which gave (y/n) all the more reason to sneak out and take a bath. She felt sticky and smelly due to her period, which made it all the more difficult for her to want to mingle with the rest of them.

Hitching Luna to her new post, (y/n) pet her horse one last time before heading to her tent as quietly as she could. She grabbed a few more clothes, a new cheesecloth, some cotton, and a larger cloth that she could use to wrap herself with. She had to make sure that she threw away the old cheesecloth, before heading into town and buying more. Unlike the other women she knew, like her mother, (y/n) chose to throw away used cheesecloths instead of reusing them.

It was only half a moon that night. Almost 200 yards away was the stream, and she was sure that no one would ever wonder where she was that night. Hosea and Dutch were already out of it, naming (y/n)’s horse skills as the reason for them to let loose. Mrs. Grimshaw and Annabelle were laughing along, drunk as well. Arthur was teasing John who begged to get something to drink as well, only to end up not liking the taste of the bitter liquid. (y/n) smiled when she thought of John, he might be rough around the edges but he was a good kid.

She stripped so fast it seemed natural. Naked to the skin, she sunk herself into the cold water, letting her nether regions rejoice with the feeling of freshness that the water induced. Shutting her eyes, she leaned back against the rock behind her and used her hands to wash herself everywhere. She missed this feeling—where she could embrace her womanhood. Her body was now how it was meant to be, not hiding the curves of her body or her breasts felt natural to her.

She felt like a part of her soul was missing when her hands touched the edges of her hair, trimmed short like a boy’s head. She remembered back when she used to have longer hair, softer skin and a bandage free chest.

“I’ve missed this…” She whispered, speaking for what felt like the first time in years.

Tears filled her eyes when she thought of what she was doing and why. She missed her brother, she missed her parents, having lost them so abruptly at a young age. She missed herself, in hindsight, wondering why she had to hide—coping with the fear that the o’Driscolls might catch her anytime.

If I find you, I’m gonna kill ya so bad, (y/n), yer gonna wish ya was never born.

Colm’s voice rang in her ears, and tears flowed down her cheeks. A moment later however, time came to a standstill. She heard the rustling of the bushes, and she knew right then and there that it wasn’t an animal. Her heart was beating way too loudly, and she was sure that the sound by itself would be a giveaway to the person who was approaching where she was. She knew she was caught now, she knew that her time in the camp with Dutch and the others was done. She could tame wild horses within a snap of a finger but right then, taming her wild heart took half her life away.

She waited. She waited and hoped in her heart that perhaps it was John who came, and the boy wouldn’t need too much of an explanation.

“Riley…?”

Arthur’s voice alerted her to his position. Arthur stood by the bark of a tree, by which she had shed her clothes and her used cheesecloth. Embarrassment flooded through her veins, for having him see her at her worst. Arthur’s eyes landed on the bloodied cloth and then back at the woman in the water.

Fucking hell, Arthur thought, his eyes slowly widened. John was right.

Perhaps, he needed to have more faith not in Dutch’s words but in John’s.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur x reader #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan fic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption spoilers #red dead redemption #rdr2 #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x you #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #john marston

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darthlorddiamond · 4 years

Text

The Fire

This is the seventh episode of the Black Diamond story, if you want to read the previous episode or follow the next ones you can check my Masterlist.

Summary: Frey's rescue results in a pact between the Scyre Clan and the Claw Clan, meanwhile, Diamond and Egil develop their relationship without realizing that one of the clan members has a macabre plan to take control of it.

Words: 2,996

Reading Time: 12 min

Category: Bio, Angst

Warnings: Blood, Murder

__________________

The Fire

Egil planned to go out at night in crews to cross the dunes and arrive unseen at the base of the Claw Clan, the objective was to locate Frey and take her home avoiding as much as possible the confrontation with Balder's groups, in words, it sounded simple to do but the reality was that the Claw Clan were bigger than us, they had vehicles while we didn´t and most of our training was in close combat and short-range weapons, while Balder's men had blasters.

Throughout the morning, before the combat, we all met to determine how the groups would be armed and the route that each of us would follow. Keldo took charge of organizing the strategies of our two squads, since we would be the ones who would enter the camp to locate and recover Frey. The annoyance was immediate, since several members of our group, especially Porr, didn´t like the idea of only infiltrating us and avoiding confrontation, according to his vision, Egil was weakening as the leader and in his opinion, we should take a direct offensive and eliminate all Claw Clan members, sneaking out at night, according to him, it only showed that Egil was becoming old and fearful. This idea was setting fire to the other boys in our group, however, Keldo and Phasma agreed that infiltrating silently would give us the advantage of surprise.

Once the night came, we armed ourselves and started our way. Keldo, Gosta, and Porr were in my group, our mission was to take charge of entering the camp and rescue Frey. In the dunes, near the Claw Clan camp, Egil, Phasma, Torben and Carr would be waiting for our signal to start their advance and behind them, outside the territory of the Claw Clan, Siv was pending of the withdrawal signal to safeguard Frey and alert the rest of our clan in case Balder's men follow us.

Most of the Claw Clan slept when we entered, fortunately, they didn´t have cabins, their life was raised in cloth tents. Once infiltrated, we separated with the aim of avoiding most of Balder´s people, while finding out in which tent Frey was.

In the first tent I entered, I identified one of the men who surrounded us in the dunes a year ago, he was sleeping peacefully; on some boxes near his bed, I found a notebook and guided by the curiosity I took it to see its contents, I got completely terrified and it made me feel sick what I found, a list of all the people that this man had kill with specific descriptions. It was obvious that these men were used to living a life of violence to ensure their survival, so, at that moment, I change part of the original plan and thought about my own objective: eliminate any Balder´s men who will cross my path, it was obvious that they were not going to like that we recovered Frey and our clan will suffer great consequences for this meddling, so, my logic was that, the fewer men the Claw Clan have, then easy my clan will survive.

Without realizing it, the man started waking up, staring his still sleepy eyes at me and before he could scream, I split his throat in half. Bloodshot out, splashing onto my robe and part of my face. For a moment I froze next to his body, listening to the gurgling blood of his neck and watching his eyes fade, and the truth is that I enjoyed it too much. With the pleasure that my action had caused me and with my body full of adrenaline, I continued my way through the nearby tents, cutting necks while their owners were still asleep, inside my mind it was, to a certain point, a pious act, letting them sleep forever, just like my tribe in Hoth.

Gradually I got into the farthest clan tents until I locate one larger than the others, that could be the tent of Balder and it was very possible that inside of it was Frey. When I was a point to enter, a hand hit me on the shoulder, intuitively I turned with my knife about to drop the blow when I saw that it was Keldo, who was looking at me in silence. He didn't have to say anything to know what he was thinking, his eyes expressed the horror of looking at my face covered in blood, turning my back on him, I entered the tent and he followed me, indeed, it was Balder's and Frey was with him.

Both of them looked asleep, Frey was sitting with her hands and feet tied and a gag in her mouth, while Balder lay on his bed with his back to us. I slowly approached Frey and she woke up with little scream that alerted Balder, who immediately stand up in one motion with a blaster in his hand. Instinctively, largely motivated by concern, I threw Frey to the ground and brought one of my hands up to Balder, who was paralyzed in his place.

Keldo holds Frey, ripping the ropes that held her, while I stood up and started walking slowly to where Balder lay paralyzed "Most of your men are dead..." for some reason, seeing the same fear reflected in his eyes that he had made me feel a year ago was filling me with indescribable joy, it was remarkable that he was struggling to breathe. A huge sense of power began to circulate through my veins, deep inside me, I was enjoying what I was doing "Diamond..." whispered Keldo "We have Frey, it's time to go..." he grabbed my arm and he tried to lower it, when, without realizing it, Gosta entered the tent, Keldo immediately turned to see her pointing to Frey "Gosta, take Frey, give the signal to Egil to advance!" Keldo ordered while I continued with my grip on Balder's neck, who was about to be knocked unconscious due to shortness of breath "I´ll stay here with Diamond..." it was obvious that Gosta didn´t understand what was happening "Don´t wait for us soon, return to the clan now. Go!" Keldo's order caused Gosta to break her trance state, she just nodded and left with Frey.

Once we were alone again, Keldo came up to me again, stood behind me and put his hands around my waist "Diamond, stop this..." he whispered in my ear as I remained completely obsessed with Balder's state of suffering "I think Balder has already learned the lesson" raising one of his hands, he holds my arm, that was still outstretched holding Balder with the Force, and slowly lower it, Balder fell to the floor trying to catch his breath, I freed myself from Keldo's embrace and went to where Balder was lying on the floor, with one of my feet I turned him around so that now his back was against the floor and his eyes were wide open looking at me "If you know what is good for you, and your clan, you´ll not mess with us again" Keldo never took his eyes off me, turning my back to Balder, I headed back to where Keldo was still standing, watching the whole scene "You´re an intelligent man Keldo..." I looked at him askance as I passed him "Be sure that he understand you well" and without saying anything else I left the tent, leaving Keldo with Balder inside.

It was beginning to dawn when Keldo left Balder's tent and I looked at him "Well?" Keldo took a huge breath of air and turned his head to see me "The Claw Clan will never try something against us again, from today they will work for us" I stood in front of him, it was evident that Keldo felt proud for having reached that agreement, but at the same time he felt uncomfortable with my presence.

We spent a few minutes standing without saying anything and little by little the light of dawn began to light up the tents "I think it's time to go home, surely everyone we'll be worried" Keldo sighed once more and, extending one of his hands he holds mine, giving it a little squeeze, and with that, I understood that it was time to leave everything that had happened behind and to return home. Once near the dunes of Scyre, Keldo stopped letting me advance a few more steps "Diamond..." I turn to see him, concern spread all over his face "Let's not comment anything that happened..." something made me think that he was referring to the way I had seen him outside Balder's tent "Frey is back home and the Claw Clan now has a dealing with us, nobody has to know about..." and raising one of his hands he pointed to me full-body, I immediately understood what he meant "Are you afraid of me Keldo?" The question will have taken him by surprise since I didn´t receive any answer, so I chose to turn my back on him and continue on my way "Don't worry, before I do anything else I´ll clean the blood, nobody will notice" and I continue walking, with a terrible but pleasant feeling of power and control within me.

Four months have passed since the Claw Clan reached an agreement with us, which, to tell the truth, has benefited us a lot, and although Egil at first was unable to understand how the deal was achieved, he had to admit that scout out for food was much easier with the support of Balder's vehicles since we could cover bigger terrain. Also, things with Egil had changed a lot at home. Within the comfort and privacy of our cabin, Egil and I had succeeded in making our lives together, we shared a bed and spent most of our free time together, although this was all when we were alone, I started to feel how the love of a couple was. During the day, he and I continue our daily activities as if nothing happens between us, and no one suspects anything, except from Phasma, who continues avoiding me.

Before long, we found ourselves in need of expanding our search and hunting terrain, as an unusual heatwave had arrived and the animals had retreated from our territories to seek shade. Among the members of the Scyre and Claw Clans, concluded that we can explore the dunes of the area that once belongs to Con Star, since it has been empty for years and there is a high probability of finding a lot of supplies there, so we prepared a crew with our clan members and some Balder´s vehicles, which would leave the next day at first thing in the morning.

“You won't go on that mission! It is very far and risky!" Egil was yelling at me while I kept packing the things I would need during the expedition "I'm not going to let you go!" and getting closer to me, he snatched my backpack and threw it to the floor away from me, at this point, I was already extremely offended by the lack of confidence that Egil had about my abilities "You just think I´m not capable of doing it!" I turned to confront him, I could feel how my face was red with rage “I´m not a girl anymore Egil! I can take good care of myself!" I advance towards him, bringing one of my fingers to his chest while my face was within inches of his "You´re not my father to tell me what I can and what I cannot do!" and passing by him side, I held my backpack from the floor; Egil was extremely angry, his fists were tightly closed, his always arranged hair was somewhat misaligned and I could notice that some veins were beginning to be marked on his forehead "If you can't do something I'm ordering then...!" he began to walk around the room in circles until he reached where I was with my back to him packing, he turned my body and throwing myself on the bed "Then I don't know what you're doing here!”.

Egil's face was so red with anger, his hands were at the sides of my hip holding the sheets tightly while I couldn't control my anger anymore "If you can't trust in my abilities then I don't know what are you do with me!" I spat back quite furiously, that was certainly not the answer Egil was expecting from me, so he took his body from mine, turned his back to me and went to the door of the room, where he only looked at me over the shoulder "If you get out of here don't think you're going to come back..." his face no longer showed anger, rather, he looked hurt, but I was still so annoyed and with my pride above all else "Are you threatening me? Because it seems perfect to me!" and I continued putting things in my backpack, but this time I started packing more than the mission essentials "So be it then! I don't even want to hear you when you get out of here!" he left the room, while tears of fury began to flow from my eyes.

When I finished packing, I left the room. Egil was sitting in the living room with his back to me, I stayed a few seconds watching him without saying anything, for an instant I felt my heart grow small "Egil ..." I could only hear how he sighed from his place "Just... Just go away Diamond I don't want to continue talking to you" I felt so guilty to see him sitting there, I didn't want things to end like this "Egil... I'm sorry, I truly love..." "STOP!" Egil interrupted me with a big shout "Just go!" I could feel the tears running down my cheeks, I knew that I had hurt him during our discussion, but now he was hurting me with his indifference. Nothing good was going to come out of this, so I continued on my way and left the cabin.

It was hours before leaving for our mission, so I went to the central bonfire with the intention of spending the night there. When I arrived, Keldo was kneeling fanning the fire "Can't sleep either?" he turns around to see me while smiling, I just answer nodding my head "Come, sit with me" and setting my backpack aside, I took the place next to Keldo. We spent a long time without saying anything, I had no desire to say absolutely nothing, in my mind the fight I had with Egil was repeated over and over, so we just sat there, in a long silence, watching as the fire consumed the logs that Keldo kept putting.

Eventually, he broke the silence "Tomorrow's mission will be long, but I trust it will go well" he turned to see me with a small smile on the lips, it was clear that he was trying to lift my spirits, although he didn't know why I was like this "Egil thinks I´m not capable of doing it..." I whispered as I wiped a tear from my eyes, Keldo immediately took one of my hands and he squeezed it hard as he brings his other hand to my chin and lift it so I can look him in the eye "Egil has ideas something... I feel that sometimes he still see us as children, but if someone is capable of doing it, that's you” as Keldo finished speaking, I could see his eyes drift from mine to a point behind me and I understood that something strange was diverting his attention “Is something wrong?” I turned my head; through the darkness, we both watched as a figure slipped away between the cabins, heading for the dunes, it was Porr. Keldo immediately stood up with confusion all over his face while I stopped next to him watching Porr move further and further away from the caves towards the dunes.

"Fire!" a scream sounded from the distance, and it made me turn immediately to the address where it came from. Without saying anything, Keldo ran off on the direction Porr had headed, while I ran to where the scream had originated. My heart was pounding fiercely, my feet unintentionally carried me down a familiar path, my mind fogs with terror as an old scene repeats itself over and over in my head.

The whole clan was around, carrying buckets of water, the men were shouting, Phasma and Carr were giving orders, while I was paralyzed in front of the fire that consumed my cabin, Egil's cabin, our cabin. A whistle flooded my ears, my heart was about to explode in my chest, I could feel how some hands were holding me by the arms, shaking me fiercely. When I recovered from the impact, I saw that Ylva was the one holding me

"Egil! Where is Egil!?" I asked Ylva with a trembling voice "He´s... He´s still inside..." and without thinking twice, I threw myself running to the cabin, but I had no success in getting there, since halfway I was intersected by Phasma, who held my whole body with hers and we fell to the floor.

There I was, in front of our cabin, watching again how a plume of smoke rose from it and a red light illuminated the night. There I was, seeing how the second person I loved most was consumed by fire and the darkness.

It was my fault, if I hadn't left Egil that night I could have done something. If we hadn't fought, if I'd listened to him, if I hadn't left him.

It was the eve of 23 ABY and it was my fault that Egil would no longer be there... With us... With me... And once again, I feel the cold and the rage of the darkness growing inside me.

Note: I would like to especially thank @kyloren-theprince, @thetorturerwrites & @kylorengarbagedump who took time to read this first part of my saga and sent me observations with all the patience in the world.

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dashielldeveron · 5 years

Text

Viper V: de Futuro.

Warnings: violence, swears, the law.

Summary: the famous sewer scene, like they have in every rom-com.

Day five of the bomb threat. It was confined to Manhattan now, although no one could be certain. Bomb threats tended not to last so long, but this one had reason to extend: all of the sewers in lower Manhattan were backed up, and so far, no one could locate the cause. Authorities had the inkling that the bomber—Isadora’s kidnapper, your identity thief, twice—had blocked the sewers off somewhere downtown, maybe linked with the subway.

Which meant NYC was in uproar, mostly for transportation issues. The streets never cleared, and all attempted to avoid being outside for long due to the rank smell—but when one lives in an overpopulated, urban area, that tended to be difficult to evade.

All applause for your identity thief. He’d turned the city upside down with a few, simple actions. If he weren’t directly aiming and igniting this in your direction, you’d be impressed.

Too bad Tom was being a little prick. Wanting to be thorough in initiating you to be consigliere, he wasn’t letting you have a spare moment to yourself, and when you collapsed on your bed at home each night, your brain transformed into mush.

“Who should I give this job to?” Tom tossed you three profiles across his desk and kept striding towards his liquor cabinet.

“Sydney,” you said, picking out his file and setting it in front of his chair, “He’s got the subtlety that Moss and Murtagh don’t. Also, Bauman called; he wants to hire you to plan an operation for him across the Hudson, and Judge Le sent you this package in the mail.” You pulled a slender rectangle out of your blazer pocket and threw it his way. “It’s weighted like a fountain pen, probably in thanks for your help last week.”

Tom caught the package without looking away from his liquor cabinet and unwrapped it as he chose his bottle. “Excellent. I want you to look at Bauman’s initial operation to see what your instincts are. If you can’t figure anything out, give it to me. Text Sydney that he’s going to Harlem for the next five days. Tell him to leave his rings at home.” He dug his fingernails into the crack where the tape didn’t cover the cardboard and forced it open, and he tapped the opening into his palm. “You’re right,” he said, holding up the fountain pen, “Engraved. Put it with the rest.” He threw it back to you.

Catching it with both hands, you slid it into the pen cup. “Also, Holland, we should get the New Jersey representatives on the payroll soon. They’re trying to introduce a local law that’d let them gerrymander more often, and we want them in our pocket, if they have that power.”

“Get on it, then,” said Tom, and he poured an unhealthy amount of whisky into a tumbler. He held up a hand. “Wait. I don’t want them if they haven’t passed that law. Get them in our good graces but don’t commit to anything serious.”

You jotted that on your legal pad. “Got it. Are Z and Haz still going to the Heights today?”

“If the streets are manageable.” Tom took a deep drink and winced. “Fuckin’. Fuckin’ bomber.”

“Are we doing anything about that?”

Tom drained his glass. “You bet your arse we are.”

***

“You’re the worst,” you said, attempting to rest your weight by the pads of your index and middle fingers on the grimy wall of the sewer so that the pressure was removed from your heels for even a moment. “I’m not doing this again.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Tom muttered, waving the flashlight in your direction.

“I could be touching the Gawain diamond right now. Maybe. It’s unclear when it’s coming in.” You pushed off of the wall and rubbed the grit between your fingers. “Instead, I’m living like a goddamn ninja turtle.”

“If you want pizza after this, just say the word,” said Tom, “but stop fuckin’ complaining. Come on. I’m hearing voices in the distance.”

“You could have sent some lame-o soldier to do this.” You leapt over a sopping puddle underneath a grate but managed to land in a deceptively squishy moss.

(Harrison had also voiced this sentiment. Why would the don and his consigliere go perform a humiliating task? “I want her eyes on everything they can be when it comes to this case,” Tom had said as if you hadn’t been present, and he loosened his tie enough to slip it off but keep the knot. “And I’m not letting her out of my sight.”)

“Yet I want you.” Tom peered around a bend, holding out his arm to keep you back.

“Yeah, well,” you said, “You may need my brain, but if it’s scrambled from not relaxing, it may not be on its best behaviour.”

“We’ll see about that,” Tom said under his breath, and he stood upright, dropped his arm, and beckoned for you to follow him farther. Before he could take could take more than three steps, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ, Viper, if you wanted time off, all you have to ask. Not—not now, of course. Gotta get situated. But once things calm down, you can…” Tom turned towards you, and in his face was an exasperation you hadn’t seen since you missed your mother’s birthday: weak, raised eyebrows with a mouth open simply because it didn’t take any muscles for it to drop and eyes with the suggestion of watering.

You shook your head. “I don’t want any time off.”

Tom shook his head in tandem, biting his lower lip and furrowing his brow. “Then what do you want?”

A series of shouts came from down the sewer, and Tom’s hand shot to his gun over the clatter of running footsteps from the other direction. You hissed at him that he couldn’t shoot in the sewer; he’d ruin their ears. Tom reluctantly withdrew and trudged forth.

You came upon a capacious, underground crossroads with tunnels going in six directions. Tom began to speak, but your hand on his shoulder silenced him as you listened.

“The police,” said Tom, “are down that one.” He gestured towards the one towards your left.

“Agreed,” you said, placing your chin on the back of your hand; Tom took a deep breath. “But listen: what’s the tinny sound? I’d say it’s chains dragging on the floor, but it’s not sixteenth century Spain.”

“There are so many things I want to say to you right now, but none of them are appropriate for this situation.”

“Tell me later,” you said, “Someone’s gotten to the blockage before we did.” You approached the tunnel, Tom close behind. “Ffffffuck. We won’t see raw evidence.”

Another shout and water rushing—holy shit, more like a fuckin’ deluge—surging your way.

“Oh, my God,” you said, and you grabbed Tom’s hand and ran—which tunnel did you come in? That one, sure. You chose that one.

Tom ran past you, but he came to a halt when you couldn’t keep up. You made the grossest decision of your life to take off your heels and run in the sewers in your bare feet. (“I’m gonna get the plague, and it’s gonna be your fault. I’m gonna get the plague, and hepatitis, and all my organs are gonna fail.”)

Shouts and watery footsteps from behind. An instruction to split up. A gunshot reverberated down your tunnel, the bullet skimming the wall, and you stuck a finger in your ear and twisted to pop it.

You came to a fork in the tunnel and bolted down the left path (“That’s how you get out of a maze,” you said, “you just keep your hand on the left wall.”), and Tom glanced back when you yelped at having stepped in a wet moss. A low pipe struck the back of Tom’s head, and his knees buckled, his hands flying to his scalp.

“No, no, no, it’s okay,” you said, peeking back down the sewer, “Come on. Stand up. We’ll be out soon. Arm around my shoulder. Let’s go.”

Tom put his arm around your waist, and his palm tightened around the spot where it curved into your stomach. Wrenching him upright, you urged him to put as much of his weight as he needed on you, mostly because you were a masochist who wanted to drop dead right there, and if this is the closest to romantic contact you’ll get, you’ll take it.

You came into another open crossroads and let him lean against the sewer wall while you stretched, water trickling in after you, not yet covering your feet but rising.

“Firehoses,” Tom said, his hand flat against the sewer (that had better not be the one he touches you with), “The chain dragging noise. Firehoses. They must be trying to blast out the blockage with water pressure.”

Nodding, you rolled your shoulders backwards. “If you say so. Which is—”

“Don’t say anything,” said Tom, “I hear someone coming.”

From another tunnel approached the manic splash of a runner—panting. Heavy panting. When he entered the crossroad, he doubled over and tried to breathe. Dressed in black. Hiding his face. Gotcha.

His head snapped towards you when you moved towards Tom, who snaked his arm around your waist again for support. He whipped out a gun, and though it’s too dark to make out what type it is, you get the feeling it wasn’t the one fired earlier.

“The fuck are you?” he barks, and it’s natural; it’s not the same person as before, who was very careful to conceal his identity. His gun shook for a second before steadying.

Tom opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You spoke for him. “You don’t know me?”

“You’re not with the police?”

“Are you with the bomber?”

You heard a click. “What’s it to you?”

“Personal interest.”

“A chick with personal interest. Not police.” He cleared his throat. “What up, Viper?”

You reached towards Tom’s holster and aimed his gun at the grunt before he could protest, but Tom did let out a choked sound: the barrel had grazed the outline of his cock—and you cocked his gun, hand never trembling. “Tell me about my identity thief.”

“You already know everything,” said the grunt, edging backwards and stumbling on sewage, “Precision like Mozart and justice like it’s judgment day. And if I can shoot you now, then the first part of my boss’s justice will be served pretty hot.”

“Justice,” you said, staring for a moment at the sludge between your toes, and you flexed them. “Then you know it’s not justice for me to shoot my hostage right here and now.” You pulled Tom into a chokehold and dug the barrel into his forehead. “You wanna get out of here, huh? Go on, then, before I blast this concussed fireman’s brains out.”

Tom’s hands gripped at your forearm, initially trying to pry you off but falling still. The grunt was hesitating, but his gun was lowering.

“C’mon. Don’t make me come over there.”

He bolted. Your grip on Tom’s neck loosened, and your arms fell to your side. Panting, Tom ran his fingers through his hair, only a suggestion of gel left. He shook his head at you, his eyes wide and jaw dropped.

“You are,” he said between breaths, “the craziest woman I’ve ever come across. And that’s why this is working—mmf!”

He inhaled sharply at your return of his gun to his holster, and you, grinning with a glint of wickedness in your eyes, glanced at his belt, jerked the holster back to its place at his side, and lingered with your fingers in his belt loops (the leather kept his pants fabric a little tighter to his skin than necessary, and you bet if you cared to, you could easily feel around for the v of his hipbones).

You were close, so close, and he couldn’t make himself look anywhere besides into your eyes. “Who’s talking here, Viper or the adrenaline?” he asked under his breath.

You yanked his belt loops to your hips. “Are you saying this doesn’t turn you on?”

“Is scared to death in the realm of turned on?”

“Sometimes,” you said, stepping away. It was the adrenaline talking. You had no idea how your aim was; you don’t shoot the guns, and Tom had been helpless in your arms. Pure luck had never felt so sexy. You shifted your foot on the edge to examine the underside, and grimacing, you said, “We’re getting out of here before I obtain several parasites. How’s your concussion?”

“Unsure if it is,” said Tom, his hand flying to the back of his head, “I wish I could see the bruise when it appears. Still not the best on my feet at the moment.”

“Well, lean on me, then, if you need to.”

***

Warm water bubbled up to your ankles. The foot soaker thing had been commandeered from a secretary in the business side of Osseous, and you were going to stay in it until you burned and scrubbed away the first five layers of skin.

Tom clutched an ice pack to the back of his head, and he hunched over to scroll through his phone on his lap. “I can still order that pizza, you know.”

“Let me have some semblance of professionalism around you, Holland,” you said, writing down the sewer events on your legal pad, “Besides, I have leftover hibachi at home.”

“Please order the pizza; I’m starving,” said Haz, untying his boots and removing them.

“Put a vegetable on it, for the love of God,” Zendaya said without looking up from her phone, “How you eat is abominable.”

“I eat vegetables.”

“Potatoes are a starch,” said Zendaya, “Have you guys been on twitter today?”

“What’s going on?” Tom popped his back and folded both his arms behind his head.

She flicked down her phone with her index finger. “A twitter account for Epiales, that political writer, was created this morning.”

“It’s fake,” you said on reflex.

“How do you know? It’s verified.”

“It can’t be.” You began to stand but sat again. “I’m not getting out of the foot bath. Come over here,” you said, frowning.

Z obliged, and she scrolled through the tweets for you. Shaking your head, you said, “It’s bogus. Total bullshit.”

“How would you know?” Haz asked from the liquor cabinet.

Oh. Um. “Look at how the sentences are structured. Epiales has flawless grammar. I don’t even have to go through all of them; there’s a comma splice in this tweet. Rookie mistake. That’s not something you do once you know it’s wrong. Plus, didn’t Epiales say on his website that anything not on the website, in that law journal, or in the Times wasn’t him?”

“Yeah, he did,” said Tom.

Zendaya pursed her lips. “So, who’s this fuck?”

***

When you got home that evening, you smushed your face in Trout’s belly for as long as she would let you. Simple and soft. She wiggled loose and trotted off to your bed before you felt okay again.

After reheating the hibachi, you settled into bed to write down that day’s plant records so that you could watch Netflix. Trout reacquainted herself with your freshly scalded feet.

Normal stuff. A couple of names you missed—you added those to your notes. A standard run-through, except for the conversation that occurred soon after you left.

You trudged through your own conversations; did your voice really sound like that? Z had departed for the day; you listened to her goodbyes, but Harrison and Tom loitered in his office.

“Something’s gotta be up,” came Harrison’s voice, distant but distinguishable, “Viper’s a little too smart for her own good.”

“She already has Dr. Prine,” said Tom, his voice muffled, like he was pinching his lower lip, “Who’s to say she doesn’t have other connections in high places?”

“What if she’s behind the bombs and kidnapping?”

“No. She wouldn’t want herself out in the public eye.”

Harrison sighed. “But how’s she know where everything is? No one’s that clever.”

“She is.” Tom paused. “The latest Epiales article—the one on the website. It did mention something about the mob.”

Shit. Shit! That had been the one you’d written in Tom’s childhood bedroom, the one where you were desperate to finish and needed something. You’d slipped.

“You think she knows Epiales?”

“I’m thinking the interview wasn’t a coincidence and that there wasn’t a burner phone. She’s got to have a way to contact him.”

“What if she’s feeding him information about us?”

“Epiales hasn’t done much with the information so far, if that’s true,” said Tom.

“Tom,” said Harrison, “She knew that the twitter was fake. Completely convinced. She knows exactly what to say to everyone and can act like a chameleon in any situation, seems like. I like the girl, but how do we find out if she’s a snake in the grass?”

“Well, Haz, you know what you do with snakes,” came Tom’s voice after a beat, “Charm them.”

***

de Futuro: concerning the future; at a future date.

***

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#tom holland #tom holland/reader #tom holland x reader #mob!tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #mob au #mob tom #Mob!Tom #viper au #dash it all

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lucifer-in-my-head · 5 years

Text

To Love a Prince - Chapter Nine

Summary: A new kingdom. A new home. A new husband. When Prince Dolion is arranged to marry the heir of another kingdom, he is eager to leave behind his loneliness, along with the family he knows won’t miss him - but fate is not so benign. Married to a man that does not love him, Dee finds his heart drawn to another; a man that can never be his. As the stability of his marriage rapidly deteriorates, Dee must endure the weight of his own feelings, the crushing isolation that comes with them…and the brutality of the one who is supposed to protect him. Pairings: Roman/Deceit (abusive), Virgil/Deceit Overall Warnings: Abuse, abusive relationship, abusive Roman, angst, broken bones, disowning, domestic abuse, exploration of trauma, injuries, non/con, parental neglect, rape, sympathetic Deceit, violence Chapter Warnings: Rape mention, injury, broken bone mention, unsympathetic Roman, nightmare mention Word Count: 2081 Masterlist AO3

Chapter Nine:

Virgil trembled from head to toe as he sped through the castle, walking as quickly as his legs would carry him without breaking into a run. He’d managed to wipe his face clear of the tears he’d shed, but he couldn’t breathe. His breaths were coming in short, sharp gasps, and no matter how many breathing techniques he tried, he couldn’t calm himself down. The horror he’d just witnessed was burned into his mind, and it replayed, over and over again, taunting and tormenting him as he made his way to the King’s personal chambers.

“Oh! And, Virgil, my friend. You will speak of this to no one. That is an order.”

Orders be damned, he couldn’t let Roman get away with this.

What Roman had done… never in Virgil’s worst nightmares could he have imagined that the Prince would be capable of such a thing. Would commit such a heinous act upon anyone, let alone Dee, the man he’d sworn to love and protect…

He didn’t know or understand what had led Roman to beat his husband, to - Virgil could barely stomach the word - to rape him, but Virgil’s understanding didn’t matter. Roman had done something awful, and Virgil refused to let him get away with it. Nobody deserved what Roman had just put Dee through.

God above… Virgil couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain Dee must be feeling right now...the humiliation…

How could Roman have done this?

His surroundings all blurred together as he moved, and he stumbled but didn’t fall. Dee’s screams echoed in his head, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t block them out. They were so distracting that Virgil almost careened into the wall, but he managed to shove himself off it with his good hand before he hurt himself. He hissed as his palm scraped along the stone. A nearby guard must have heard him, and stepped over to help, concerned, but Virgil waved them off, continuing on his way. He had to get to Patton.

It took him far too long to reach the King’s chambers, and when he did he stood outside the door for a few moments to regain his breath. He made sure his eyes and cheeks were cleared of the tears he’d shed, then knocked on the door hastily, hitting the wood so hard his knuckles ached. “Your Majesty?” He called, his voice quivering slightly. “I need to speak with you! It’s urgent!”

He heard some scuffling, and then a few moments later, Patton opened the door. “Captain? What’s the - oh my goodness! Virgil, are you alright?” The King asked upon seeing Virgil’s tearstained face.

“Your Majesty, I need to speak with you in private,” Virgil implored.

“Of course. Come in,” Patton stepped back, opening the door wider to let Virgil inside. He stepped over the threshold.

Patton’s chambers were rather colourful, even more so than one would expect. He often commissioned artists to make beautiful paintings and tapestries and would hang them on his walls so that he could admire them. Virgil’s eyes caught on a rather magnificent painting of Prince Roman, and he felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He tore his eyes away, turning to face Patton.

“You may want to sit down, Your Majesty,” he said gravely, swallowing.

“What’s going on, Virgil?” The King asked, taking a seat at his desk and looking up at Virgil, concern pinching at his soft features. Virgil’s heart twisted. How was he supposed to explain to Patton the awful things his beloved son had done…?

“Virgil, please, whatever it is, just say it,” Patton beseeched, and Virgil nodded, drawing in a slow breath.

“Roman is abusing Dee.”

There was a moment where neither of them said anything, and Virgil watched as the words sunk in, could see the exact second where the King processed what Virgil had said.

Could see the precise moment where Patton chose not to believe him.

His throat closed over as Patton shook his head in disbelief, his hope crushed. “Virgil, that’s - I don’t know why you would say something so awful. Roman is not - my son would never do that!”

“That’s what I thought too, but-”

“No ‘buts’, Captain. Wherever you heard this rumour, I can assure you right now that it’s nothing more than that - a rumour,” Patton maintained.

“But Your Majesty, it isn’t just-”

“I said no ‘buts’, Virgil!”

“Your Majesty please liste-”

“ENOUGH!” Patton’s shout startled Virgil into silence, and he took a step back, his lips pressed firmly closed. “Virgil, I refuse to believe such- such codswallop. Roman is not the kind of man who would do that, and shame on you to even entertain the idea that he would!”

Virgil’s mouth opened, then closed again. Patton wasn’t going to believe his word alone. That was clear. His hands trembled with frustration. He wasn’t good with words, or convincing people. Didn’t know how to utilise fancy language to persuade people like Logan did. He was good with his sword, he was good on the battlefield, but when it came to politics, he was as lost as a coin in the river.

Feeling crushed by the King’s refusal to listen to him, he bit his tongue to keep himself from saying anything stupid, knowing that anything else he had to say would just make Patton angry, and even less likely to believe him.

He stood there, eyes fixed firmly on the clasp of Patton’s cloak. Several moments of silence passed between them, and when Virgil made no move to speak, Patton gave a sharp exhale. “I won’t tell Roman, or anyone else about what you said today,” he said tightly. “And I won’t hear of it again.” The order was clear.

“...yes, Your Majesty,” Virgil said, despondent. Disobeying an order from the Prince was bad enough, but an order from the King? Even Virgil couldn’t cross that line...

“You are dismissed, Captain.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” He gave a quick bow, then stepped out.

He flinched as Patton slammed the door behind him, and quickly made his way to his own chambers, just barely managing to hold himself together. Once he’d closed and bolted shut his door behind him, he drew in a slow breath.

In… and out… in… and out…

He spent a while trying to focus on the breathing exercises Logan had taught him, making an effort to properly calm himself down. He wasn’t sure exactly how long it took, but by the time he was able to draw in steady, even breaths, the sun had well begun its descent under the horizon, and the sky outside his window was filled with deep reds, oranges and pinks. It was admittedly rather beautiful, if not a little haunting…

He sighed, reaching to grab a canteen of water to hydrate himself and wincing when the canteen rubbed against a graze on his palm. He groaned softly and trudged to the bath chambers to wash it, running some water over it and scrubbing away the dried blood and dust from the stone wall.

Ah, Virgil had forgotten that he’d scraped himself when he pushed away from the wall earlier.

He dried his hand and returned to his bedroom, sitting down on top of the blankets and staring at the graze. It stung a little, nothing compared to the pain in his arm, though. He’d been lucky - if he hadn’t pushed himself off in time, his broken arm would’ve slammed straight into the stone. He definitely would’ve made a lot more noise for the guards in that case than the small hiss he’d given them.

His eyes narrowed suddenly.

The guard had heard his hiss from around the corner of another corridor and come to investigate… the noise he’d made had been quiet, and yet the guard still heard it.

Virgil had heard Dee’s pained cries from a much further distance, and yet…

None of the guards had come to investigate.

...why?

He shot to his feet abruptly, stalking out of his bedchambers and back towards the Princes’. Virgil didn’t believe for a single moment that those guards hadn’t heard what was happening to Dee, not with how well trained they were. No. If they hadn’t come to investigate screaming that loud and drawn out, then there had to be a reason. What could stop Royal Guards from investigating such an obvious disturbance?

“Oh! And, Virgil, my friend. You will speak of this to no one. That is an order.”

Roman.

Roman had ordered the guards not to investigate.

He growled lowly under his breath at the thought, his fist clenching. A cacophony of emotions swept through him - rage, hatred, horror, fear, and a dozen others he couldn’t name. He didn’t know what he intended to do when he saw Roman again, but God, he wanted nothing more than to slam his fist into the Prince’s face.

He walked faster, exhausted but letting his adrenaline keep him moving. If he couldn’t do anything about Roman, then maybe he could knock some sense into the damned guards-

Just as he was about to round the corner where the guards were stationed, he stopped.

Painfully slowly, his gaze lowered to his broken arm, secured firmly against his torso. Just the power-walk here had jostled it enough to make the pain almost intolerable without crying out. If he tried to engage in a fight…

Virgil wanted to scream. Without his dominant arm, he was practically helpless! In a life or death situation he could probably hold his own, but otherwise… and against multiple opponents - likely including Roman if he caught wind of what was going on - Virgil didn’t stand a chance.

God damn that Prince! There was no way this hadn’t been planned! Roman had broken his arm intentionally! That little prick!

Virgil could barely contain his anger. Before he could do something he regretted he spun on his heel, stalking back to his chambers. He’d be beyond foolish to try and start a fight in the condition he was in, let alone to believe he would have any chance of winning it.

For the time being, he was powerless. Useless.

But he wasn’t giving up. There was nothing he could do now after the sun had set and the palace was preparing to sleep, but tomorrow…

Tomorrow he would find out the names of all the guards stationed around Roman’s chambers. He would visit each one when they were off rotation, talk to them privately. Find out what the Hell was going on. Maybe there was more to it than just simple orders. It was entirely possible Roman was bribing them, whether it be with money, or something else. Either way, Virgil was going to do his damndest to best whatever offer Roman had made them. The King might not believe his word alone, but…

If he had the guards on his side, if more than just he were willing to testify to what Roman had been doing…

Maybe Virgil stood a chance after all.

It was well and truly dark by the time Virgil made it to his bed, and he curled up under the weight of the blankets, exhausted. He couldn’t bring to mind a time where he’d ever been this disturbed, this distraught. His heart felt like it had been shattered, the betrayal of Roman’s character cutting deep into his soul. In the years he’d spent at Roman’s side, training with him, teaching him, Hell, bonding with him, he’d never imagined that the Prince could be capable of such cruelty…

And Dee…

The smaller Prince had looked so terrified, so hurt… his body had been littered with so many bruises, and Virgil began to wonder how long Roman had been beating him for him to acquire that many injuries…

Virgil’s eyes began to water at the thought, and he blinked the tears away, a shiver running down his spine as they fell. In all his years as a knight, as the Captain of the Guard, Virgil didn’t think he’d ever been in as much pain as Dee looked to be in.

And Virgil had been in a lot of pain.

Virgil fell asleep a while later, tossing and turning for a while before falling into a deeper state of unconsciousness. Before he woke the next morning, he would be plagued by nightmares that would jolt him awake, crying and with a scream trapped in his throat.

But for now, Virgil slept.

For tomorrow, he would act.

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nbcreepere · 5 years

Text

Beauty and the Stinky Boi (Remus x Reader)

CHAPTER 13 Warning: There will be references to having sex, but no smut. I don't do smut. There may also be miner cussing and violence. Like no one get's a tiny hand print on them, it's a little worse. Sorry in advance. A few days after he had kissed me and saved me from being hit by Roman we hung out. We loved just hanging out, it was because we loved seeing each other and even just being funny or weird. That first real kiss was the last one he gave me. I was to scared to kiss him or fully tell him how I felt towards him. Today we were in his room and decided to just stay there to not run into one of the others. We watched some movies for the first part of the day. We went back and forth with Disney movies and horror movies. He would chose horror movies that would be gory and disturbing, but if I was scared by any part he would let me hold him, so I just held him during each one of his movies. During his he would say what they could have done to get away or how fake some stuff was. I chose all my favorite Disney movies, and I got to chose the last movie. I thought of a good Disney movie and soon turned on Beauty and the Beast. We watched it and he was actually enjoying it. He was watching it as if it was one of the, what he called, great parts in a horror movie. After the movie ended he wanted to hear me sing my favorite part. I told him I wouldn't because I'm not one to sing for others. He gave me puppy eyes and a frown. "Fine, but you have to sing your favorite song from it." He only smiled and nodded. I soon song the song and he applaud. I was flustered but he started singing Tale as Old as Time. He wasn't bad at singing as it was soothing to the point I could sleep. He finished with a long ending and sat down. "You sound... amazing!" I told him. He smiled saying,"Thanks,(y/n). You aren't bad yourself!" I smiled at him. We started on the next thing. We were drawing and being creative, him a little more disturbing, but it was alright. I was just doing some random sketches as he drew actual pictures. When he would finish he'd go and show me being very proud of it. "I love it!" I would say giving a loving smile. After a few hours of drawing we played board games. He would fail to understand the rules and would try setting the board on fire. We set that aside and decided to make a game. "Ok so the game could be we have to change something about us slowly, whether it was cloths or adding make up, and wait till the other person notices. If they catch you in the process of doing something of changing your appearance you lose." He said loving his idea. "Yes! I love it! Let's start it now!" I exclaimed. I would keep a very close eye on Remus so I could try to win. We did a few other things and ended up lying down on his bed. Our feet were dangling off and we were on different sides of the bed. We were just talking and it had been about an hour since we created the game and he had done nothing yet. I guessed he forgot so as I got him talking about one of his ideas I slipped off my jeans and slipped on something close by that was his. I was unlucky and had grabbed a pair of boxers. I hoped they were clean as I slipped them on and waited. Just a while after we were moving around and playing games. He hadn't noticed that I was wearing his stuff at all so I was winning the game so far. We sat down and started playing truth or dare. "Is it true that you love me as the mighty hero?" He asked to my truth. "Why yes it is my brave knight." I joked. "Truth or dare?" I asked. He didn't have to think about it as he said dare. I thought for a second of what the dare should be." I dare you to act a lot more clean minded for ten minutes!" He almost went pale."Fine! Truth or-" He stopped, I guess he was waiting or thinking of something."dare?" He finished. "Truth!" I smiled. "Are those my boxers that you are wearing?" He asked. I looked down and remembered our game and how I just won. "Yes they are, and I jus-" He cut me off by pulling me into a kiss like the one the day he saved me. I kissed back and when we finished he asked me if I liked him like that. "You fool, I love you." I said kissing him. He soon stood up and picked me up with him. My legs were wrapped around his waist as we kissed. He sat down on his bed and pulled apart from me. "How far may I go?" He asked looking me up and down. I paused and waited for a minute."The ten minutes are up so let your mind lose on me." I didn't care any more, I trusted him, loved him, and he is my forever love. After I told him that he did let his mind lose. I woke up the next morning lying next to Remus. Our cloths were in different places and I could't see some of them. Hickey's were all over me and I didn't care because it was amazing. I snuggled up to his warm body and closed my eyes. He hugged me back and opened his eyes. "Good morning beautiful." He whispered to me. "Morning. Can it just be night again?" I asked jokingly which made him laugh a little. "Was it that good?" He asked. "Better." He gasped at my response, but I could feel him smiling. "Are you hungry?" I asked him. "Only for you."He purred. "No you dork, for actual food." I giggled. "Calling me a whale dick now aren't we? Well, I'm not, but if you are I can take you to Thomas' to eat." He said kissing my forehead. I nodded."That would be lovely." I got up and got dressed. I couldn't find my shirt so I just put on a big hoodie. He slipped something on and gave me another kiss. He took me back, but we were in a closet. Before he left he put my hand on the doorknob so I could open it. I opened the door and there Thomas was placing some food on the table. "Hey, (y/n)! You cam just in time! Breakfast is ready! Have a seat." He said cheery. The others came down and I did my best to hide the hickey's that they might see. After breakfast we all sat down to talk. Roman was distant and tried not to talk to me, but I would catch him staring at me. While me and Logan were talking Roman came over to me. "What's that on your neck?" He asked rudely. I was a little scared. I was sore from the night before and was in no position to fight. "Are those...hickey's?" He asked. "W-what? Roman just leave m-" Before I could finish he took the hoodie off me. I did my best to cover up because my top was not covered (if girl then you had a bra on or binder). He looked at me and took my left wrist with a tight grip. Thomas wanted to intervene but I told him to take the others out. Roman's grip tightened and I felt a sharp pain come from my wrist. "I told you not to see him, didn't I?" He asked with an angry tone. I was to shaken to say anything. "DIDN'T I?"He yelled. I panicked and tried to punch him, but he dogged it. "You're a pathetic slut to go for someone like him!" He yelled throwing me on the floor. my back hurt like hell, but I managed to get up and slip the hoodie back on. Thomas rushed down and hugged me."I'm so sorry... I don't know what's gotten into him. We all decided that with how you are lowering Remus' thoughts he gives me we will support and protect you two." Thomas told me."Thank you guy's..."I said in between tears. Thomas called for Deceit to take me back to Remus. While walking Deceit asked what happened. I explained how Roman freaked out because of Remus and me doing what we did. Deceit looked at me saying that he might know what's happening."There are times when a side can get a bug, it does NOT mess with how they act. I know there is NOT a cure for it, so I WON'T look for it." He told me leading me to Remus' door. I thanked him and went in. I told Remus what had happened and he was mad. He pulled out a mace and started storming towards the door. I stopped him. "Remus please, don't. You can worry about him later, but I think he broke my wrist, or fractured it." I told him. He stopped and gently grabbed my wrist examining it. "That asshole of a brother fractured your wrist." He said leading me to his bathroom. He started looking in cabinets and pointed to the toilet so I sat down on it. He pulled out a wrap and came over to me. He gently started wrapping my arm and looked at me. "After this, you know I'm going to kill him right?" He asked raising an eyebrow. "Remus, please don't. Just... stay with me, please." I bagged him. "Give me a good reason why." He said. "Because, I need you to check my back and I don't want to be alone..." I said. Remus lifted up the hoodie and looking at my back. "That's bigger then my dick..." He said. "You have a large bruise on your back." He was angry. He carried me to the bed and let me borrow some cloths for pj's. I sunk into his bed and as he tried to walk off I grabbed his wrist. "Aren't you gonna stay with me?" I asked. I didn't want him to hurt Roman with the new info I had gotten. "I'm just going to change, hot cakes." He said. Once he got back he climbed into the bed and held me by my waits as to not hurt my back and touch the bruise. He made sure to be very gentle with my fragile body. "I'm sorry about my brother." He whispered to me. "It's not your fault, so please don't be sorry." I said looking him in his gorgeous eyes. He looked back into mine and kissed me. "Someone has to be sorry for him." He said. I shook my head and tried to move. I had trouble and let a small moan of pain out as my wrist some what bent. "Normally I'd say that your moan is cute, but it's not right now." He said turning onto his back and then putting me on top of him. It was just like when we first slept together. I loved it. "Are...are we a thing now?" I asked him. He took a minute to think about it. "I marked you as mine so yes.I guess you could say our love is the beauty and the beast." He said with a smile. I smiled back and kissed him saying,"More like beauty and the stinky boi." I joked before falling asleep. 9/22/19 published on 9/29/19 It's my birthday! Yaaaay... 15 years of living is not my idea of fun. Oh well! I give you guy's this 5 page, 1996 word, rollercoaster of a chapter! I hope you enjoy it and honestly, I love reading why you guys comment on the book, I always reply unless I don't know what to say. I love you guy's and have a lovely night!

#fanfiction #romance #remus #remus sanders #remus x reader #remus sanders x reader #sanders sides #sanders sides x reader #beauty and the stinky boi

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dragonnan · 5 years

Text

My Sherlock Fics (so far)

Completed:

A Russian, Two Spies, and an Elephant 5 chapters -- Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Torture, noncon drug use, violence

Summary: As Mycroft had been so fond of saying, “There is no such thing as a 'simple op'. If there were, we would hardly need agents to carry them out as the garden variety patrol officer would readily serve.” The statement, to Sherlock's consternation, too often proved entirely true. Certainly a clandestine trip through Bulgaria, transporting several crates of illegal pharmaceuticals, drifted well away from “simple” and edged into “complicated” territory.

Excerpt: The hairs on the back of Sherlock's neck were standing on end. Something felt wrong; very, very wrong. A glance towards Anthea revealed a shared emotion and she silently eased her hand to her pocket where her gun was tucked out of sight. There was a rustle at their back and Sherlock spun. The girl stood, just inside the door to what appeared to be the kitchen, clearly terrified.

Anthea jerked her chin, speaking in hushed Bulgarian. “Go.”

The girl, however, shook her head miserably. “Go where?”

By then, however, they could hear Kulikov returning; his loud voice carrying through the outside wall. “Villiam, Alena! Come! An old friend has come to call!” There was nothing for it but to leave the dining area and the mostly untouched meal. Kulikov could be heard extolling the glory of the hunt and the effort it had taken to track his prized bull elk through heavy snow. He turned as the two of them approached; grinning wide. “I want to introduce you to someone; though I'd be surprised if you hadn't met since you both work at the same facility...”

Sherlock froze. He had expected Sebastian Moran; preparing himself for the fallout of that exposure. What he hadn't... couldn't have expected, was the slender man standing at Kulikov's shoulder.

“So it's William now, is it? And here I thought you were dead.”

Sherlock swallowed; keeping absolutely still. “Funny thing, Oleg; I'd thought the same of you.”

Dial M for Molly One-shot Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2019 Day 1: “We’ll start with the riding crop.”

Excerpt: "What do you want from me?"

The voice chuckled; though not in an unpleasant way. "My dear, that's a loaded question. Let's just say I understand what he sees in you." There was a sharp sound, somewhere on the other end of the line and Molly rumpled her eyebrows. That had sounded like...

"Was that a whip?" She had begun to relax, now, as everything about her mysterious caller started to come together.

The Knight Shift One-shot Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Violence against women, descriptions of autopsy, crude language

Summary: Love was a chronic wasting disease, as far as she was concerned. She felt more kinship to some of the corpses she examined than the blushing beauties of romance novels. Or -- Molly navigates her feelings, colleagues, and uncomfortable male attention.

Excerpt: “I wasn't certain you'd be in today. I had called down to the lab, earlier, and Mr. Dodge told me you'd been called in. My good luck, as it is. I was hoping to speak with you.”

Molly shifted her feet; battling not to check her watch. She bit her lip instead. “Mr. Cole, I really need to...”

“Brad, please. We're colleagues; I think it's acceptable to speak as peers, don't you?” He grinned; hands tucked in his pockets. “I'm hoping you enjoyed the flowers I'd sent. I'd considered roses but realized that might seem a bit forward as we've only just begun to get to know one another. Have you had a chance to consider my request?”

Back footed, Molly wracked her mind for a moment; half her attention in the room behind her and the body awaiting her evaluation. “Request?”

“Dinner, of course!” Cole laughed. “Did you not read the note I'd included?”

The note, of course. Molly hadn't given it a second thought after binning it. “I, uh... I don't think...” The door at her back opened, then, and Molly side stepped rapidly to avoid it knocking into her shoulders.

“Are you quite finished? This corpse isn't going to get fresher with the passage of time.”

Cole, now the one off center, took a step away as Sherlock entered the hallway – eyes making a rapid movement between the other two. “Mr. Holmes. I didn't realize...”

“Obviously; else you wouldn't have accosted my pathologist outside the doors to her lab.”

WIP:

The Tiger and the Shark 21/roughly 23 chapters Rating: Mature Warning: Rape/noncon, Violence, Murder, PTSD, Emotional/Psychological Trauma, Suicidal Thoughts/Attempt

Summary: “Do you find it less frightening; knowing what will happen? I'd rather imagine the opposite were true. You see, my husband was a master at psychological games – planting seeds of intent and letting them grow whichever way his assets chose. The torments they imagined were horrors of their own design. Charles loved that – knowing they only needed a little... pressure. What horrors were you imagining, I wonder, when you blew his brains out?”

Excerpt: “You promised you wouldn't go dark. Sherlock. That was the reason I'd agreed to... to this... in the first place.”

The distance from kitchen to sitting room could well have been miles for all of the strength it sapped from his body. Tea in hand, bone weary, Sherlock forced a slow decent into his chair – every ache from the night's events, coming vividly to life, now that he was back home.

“Just one text, Sherlock. One. Just a single word would have done – Jesus, we've had this argument before, haven't we.” He huffed out a rough breath – both hands rubbing across his face.

Mug wrapped in his hands, Sherlock tapped a finger against the rim. It went against his nature to explain himself. With John, though, he often found himself compelled to make an effort.

Only... he couldn't.

Because every bit of reasoning that held validity, within his mind, became a weak excuse when constructed as spoken language. Verbose on amaranthine topics he'd found, when it came to subjects of personal impact, his word-crafting may well have been the babble of an infant.

And, yet, John wanted him to try, clearly. More than that, Sherlock found himself, against his better nature, wanting to be understood. The tea cup clinked against the saucer as he rested it on the table. Hands now free, he used them to scrub through his hair – flinching when he encountered the forgotten injury. There was blood on his fingertips when he lowered his hand.

“I had to.”

It was a long enough pause, after that initial foray, to establish that John's anger was not such that he would immediately stampede the time it would take to get through this. And he was going to need time.

“I... couldn't...” He pressed his knuckles against his mouth – felt their tremble, “I could not stop... him. When he...” his lips peeled back; frozen, suddenly, at speaking that which he'd so candidly and casually articulated all of those weeks previous. It stuck in the back of his throat like a clump of raw fat. He stuttered breath – eyes tracking towards the safety of the fireplace. Only embers, now, but the hot orange glow was a place to focus while his brain tried to shred itself.

“He has taken everything from me. Look at me, I can't control anything anymore; my own emotions – my mind...” his fingers rubbed the tears from his eyes, “I no longer know who I am...”

#Sherlock #my fanfic #story excerpts #warnings for rape in one story #no details in the excerpts

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irelise · 5 years

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the yew tree - end of pt 1

Erik has worked with Sebastian Shaw, mutant revolutionary, ever since Shaw rescued him from human experimentation when he was a boy. He is reluctantly enlisted to assist in Shaw’s newest scheme: seducing the wealthy and enigmatic Lord Xavier and claiming his vast fortune. With Shaw posing as Xavier’s doctor, Erik goes undercover as Xavier’s personal manservant to convince him to fall in love with Shaw.

But Xavier has secrets of his own, and it isn’t long before Erik starts having second thoughts about the whole thing…

(the handmaiden inspired au - no canon knowledge required

start reading here!)

Warnings for this part: Mild violence Rating: E - mind the rating change! Word count: 3875 Notes: And this marks the end of part 1! I’ll edit it over the next few days and throw it up on ao3 after, along with a very short epilogue that I’m excited for \o/

Sebastian must be in a good mood today to be so indulgent; he breathes in the fragrant scent of bergamot and stares fixedly into the distance.

“Soon,” Sebastian remarks. “With Marko out of the way, we’ll have a clear shot at carrying out our plan, and then you’ll be free of this whole tiresome thing. Looking forward to your freedom?”

“Of course.”

Sebastian prowls to stand beside him, circling like a predator. He holds himself carefully still as Sebastian sets a hand on his shoulder. “Really? No second thoughts?”

He smiles thinly. “Whatever for?”

***

It’s been hours. It’s been six fucking hours and Shaw is still in Charles’ room. Erik can’t take it anymore. He raps sharply on the door. “Everything fine in there?”

There’s no response – not in words, at least, but Erik hears plenty. A muffled noise of surprise. The creak of the bed. A rapid rustling, maybe someone’s clothes, maybe the bedsheets and the blankets.

It doesn’t matter. He’s heard enough. Erik throws the door wide open, his power latching furiously onto the metal knobs and bolts.

He had expected it, but the scene in front of him still knocks the breath out of his lungs: Shaw and Charles, in bed together, Shaw looming over Charles, bracketing Charles’ smaller body with his own, a predator crouched vicious and triumphant on top of its prey. They’re both clothed, but Charles is still in his nightgown, the collar askew. He’s flushed and rumpled, staring rapt at Shaw with those red lips of his parted expectantly. Erik can’t help it; his gaze drops lower, to Shaw’s groin and the tell-tale bulge there, rubbing against Charles’ thigh.

Erik sees red. “Get off him,” he’s shouting, the next moment blurring past in a flurry of grasping hands and thrashing bodies. Somehow, he hauls Shaw up and tosses him bodily into the hallway outside, slamming the door shut behind them.

The moment they’re hidden from Charles’ sight, Shaw slams him against the wall. His mutant strength pulses hot, and Erik wheezes in agony as Shaw shakes him like a disobedient dog, knocking his skull into the unforgiving wall again and again.

“Get off me, fuck, get off me–” His power scrabbles frantically at the metal on Shaw’s cufflinks, his belt; Shaw doesn’t blink an eye. He smiles, poisonously calm.

“Little Erik,” he croons, and Erik shudders at the way he reverts to German, a reminder of their shared past. “Breaking your promise already? Going soft for the first pretty human to look your way, I’m disappointed in you.”

Erik bares his teeth, replying in English. “You know I’m dedicated to the cause. If anything, I–”

Shaw continues as if Erik hadn’t spoken a word: “If you wanted him after I’m done with him, you only had to ask. A reward, let’s say? You’ve always been so faithful to the cause; it’s why I chose you for this job.”

Snarling, Erik shoves at Shaw’s chest. Surprisingly, Shaw lets him go, and he drops heavily to the ground, only just managing to land on his feet.

“I know my own dedication,” Erik seethes. “It’s yours I’m questioning. Wasting months here, playing house with Charles, you–”

“Oh, Erik.” Shaw tuts, still in German, and he sounds so much like the man he had been when he first rescued Erik. He had been Erik’s mentor, then. A paternal figure. Shaw claps Erik on the shoulder the same way he had when Erik was young, every time Erik had done something particularly impressive with his powers. “We’ve been through this already, haven’t we?”

Erik forcibly shoves away his memories. “I didn’t buy it then and I don’t buy it now. I’m only here for Marko.”

“Good! So it shouldn’t bother you what I do with young Lord Xavier.” Erik opens his mouth, but Shaw talks right over him. “Just a few more days, Erik. You can hold on for that long. And, like I said, if you want him after I’m done, you only have to ask.”

Shaw leans in, conspiratorial. “There’s nothing wrong with needing a bit of entertainment. Just don’t let him distract you from the cause any more than he already has, hmm?”

“Get out.”

Shaw smiles thinly. “I’ll be in touch,” he says, in English this time. Erik tracks him with his eyes and his metal-sense until he’s sure Shaw is gone. Only then does he return to Charles’ room.

Charles is sitting quietly at the reading table by the window. There’s a book in his hands, but he’s staring out at the grounds instead, pale-faced. Without waiting for an invitation, Erik slides into the seat next to him. “Hey,” he says softly. “How are you feeling? Is your migraine still…” Erik taps the side of his head.

Charles blinks, then smiles apologetically. “I’m sorry, I was miles away – welcome back, Erik, and I’m feeling much better, thank you. Yourself?”

“Fine. Been better. But fine.”

He can feel Charles hesitate, but eventually Charles says: “You were quite…upset, earlier.”

“I was,” Erik allows, still not sure how much he wants to reveal, but he’s feeling reckless – Charles already knows so much about him, what’s a little bit more? Damn Shaw for putting him into this position. Charles isn’t a toy to be passed around.

“Was it about Dr. Schmidt?”

Erik nods stiffly.

Charles turns the full force of his blue eyes on Erik. “You don’t approve? He’s clever, well-educated, with a respectable occupation…”

“He’s your doctor.” Erik snaps. “He’s taking advantage.”

Charles’ tongue swipes against his bottom lip as he thinks. “You’ve worked with him for a long time, haven’t you? Has he done this with his other patients before?”

“…No. Just you.”

“Is it really such a stretch to think he might be genuinely interested in me?”

Oh, Shaw is interested in Charles all right, just for all the wrong reasons. “You don’t know anything about him,” Erik growls. “It’s…complicated, all right? Don’t be so quick to trust him. He’s a complicated man.”

“And so are you,” Charles murmurs.

Anger flares. “I’m nothing like him.”

“I think the two of you are more alike than you’d care to admit, my friend.” Charles’ eyes are very cool. Before Erik can think of a reply, Charles pushes himself to his feet and stalks into the study.

For the first time that Erik can remember, Charles shuts the door behind him.

***

Banished from the study, Erik finds himself at loose ends as the day ticks towards the evening. He takes dinner with the other servants, and after a bit of scowling and snapping, he bullies the cooks into making a hearty meal for Charles. Should have done it a long time ago, he thinks grimly as he brings the tray to Charles’ bedroom, letting himself in.

The door to the study is open again, and Charles appears at the doorway the instant Erik enters the room. “Erik, I–”

“Come here.” Erik sets down the tray on the reading table. “Sit down and eat.”

Charles blinks at the spread of food in front of him. “Did my uncle approve of this?”

“Forget your uncle. Eat.”

Charles hesitates for a moment, then smiles. It’s not quite a happy expression; if Erik had to describe it, he’d say Charles looks resolved.

Well, good. Anything that gets Charles out from under Kurt Marko’s thumb is progress. Erik grins fiercely as he watches Charles sit and tuck in with vigour, eyes closing with obvious enjoyment. “This is excellent, Erik. Would you like some?”

“I had dinner already.”

“Mm. Try some anyway.”

They eat together quietly. Erik is burning with questions about Charles’ earlier odd mood, but something about Charles discourages him from asking, and Erik is reluctant to disturb the reflective peace that had fallen over the two of them. He can’t shake the feeling that they won’t get very many more of these moments. So he eats and drinks, watching the silver flash of cutlery between Charles’ fingers, knowing Charles is watching him in return.

After dinner they move into the study. Charles reads for them as he always does, Erik absorbing his words as easy as breathing, surrounded by the rich cadence of Charles’ voice.

But there’s something different about Charles. Normally, he interrupts his own reading with little bursts of animation, calling Erik’s attention to interesting bits of scientific theory as he goes, asking his opinion on this and that. None of that happens tonight. Charles only reads, reads like he’s trying to lose himself in the words.

The first time Charles loses track of where he’s up to, Erik raises an eyebrow. That’s new.

The second time it happens, Erik leaves his seat and strides over to Charles, easily snagging the book from Charles and ignoring his startled little noise of protest. “You’re miles away tonight. What’s on your mind?”

Charles makes a half-hearted (and very futile) swipe for his book. Erik holds it out of his reach, mouth quirking into a small grin.

“God’s sake,” Charles huffs, but he’s smiling as well, just a little.

Erik casually flicks open the book, making a show of paging through it idly. “Well?”

Not for the first time that night, Charles’ gaze returns to the window, the levity fading from him. He’s silent, but Erik’s intuition tells him not to push. He’s rewarded a few moments later when Charles says, in that quiet, honest way of his: “I’m afraid. I’m very tired, my friend, and I’m afraid.”

Only Charles would expose his soft underbelly like this and trust Erik not to take advantage. The golden lamplight falls on the pale curve of his neck, bare and vulnerable.

“What are you afraid of?” Erik asks softly. “Tell me. We’ll fight it together.”

Charles stands in one fluid movement. He takes the book from Erik, shelving it back into its rightful place. His fingers stroke down the spine in a strangely tender gesture.

It feels like a goodbye.

“Let’s go to bed.” Charles brushes past him, heading back to the bedroom.

“We’re not d–”

Charles glances back at him. “Erik. I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Somehow, Erik believes him. He follows Charles into the bedroom, assisting him through his nightly routine. The monotony relaxes his mind. It’s easy to immerse himself in the moment, especially when it comes to stripping Charles out of all his tailored clothes, smoothing his hands along Charles’ arms and torso and legs as he helps him into his simple nightwear. Charles looks younger without the shield of all his formal wear, standing lonely and bare-footed in a room much too big for one person.

Duty done, Erik turns to leave, but a hand on his elbow stops him. He raises an eyebrow at Charles. It’s not often that Charles touches him. “Need something?”

“I did say to let’s go to bed.” Charles licks his lips, the way he does when he’s either nervous or focusing intently on something, but his gaze remains steady.

Erik frowns, turning those words over in his head. He can’t mean… “What, together?”

In lieu of a proper response, Charles steps closer. Erik goes rigid as Charles’ fingers trail along his arm. “May I?” Charles asks softly, and Erik has no answer for him.

Charles’ fingers go to the starched white collar of his servant’s shirt. Erik swallows, throat bobbing, as Charles undoes the first button, a small frown of concentration on his face. He should stop this. Things are complicated enough without…whatever this is.

He doesn’t move.

Charles bends, his slim form pale and graceful as the neck of a crane. Erik’s shirt falls away. He’s still in his undershirt, but Erik feels wholly naked, especially when Charles drops to one knee and hooks his thumbs against the waistband of Erik’s trousers.

Their eyes meet, Charles’ a flash of blue under his dark lashes, and his red mouth curves into a smile. Heat jolts up Erik’s spine.

“You–” Without thinking about it, his hand tangles into Charles’ curls. “What are you up to, Charles?”

Charles has the nerve to blink innocently. “Helping you get ready for bed, of course. The exact same thing as what you do for me every night, or have you forgotten already?”

“Not like this.”

“Like what?”

Erik groans, his grip tightening momentarily. He shouldn’t be doing this. He doesn’t even know why Charles is doing this. Charles wants Shaw, not him. Erik doesn’t fit into Charles’ neat existence.

He shouldn’t be doing this, but he’s weak, so weak, when it comes to Charles. Fuck it. One night of selfishness, is that really so bad? “You know what? Suit yourself.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” With a final grin, Charles tugs down Erik’s trousers, slow and smooth. He stands again once he’s done, taking Erik by the hand and leading him to the bed, leaving Erik’s clothes a messy heap on the floor.

“Charles. You’re sure about this?”

Charles settles himself into the bed, tugging Erik down with him. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“All right.” Erik turns to blow out the gas lamp, darkness settling over the room like a velvet shroud. The moon is high and bright in the sky, almost full, and in the silver shadows of the room, Erik remembers the night he had first met Charles. The room had looked much like this, then. Charles had looked the same too, pale and haunted from his nightmare.

But Erik hadn’t wanted to comfort him then. Strange how quickly things can change. Erik gently pulls the blanket over the two of them – how long has it been since he’s shared someone else’s bed? – and for a moment, he feels clumsy and awkward, his body taking up too much space.

Ridiculous. Charles had invited him here. Indeed, Charles is nestling closer, almost touching but not quite. He could wrap his arms around Charles if he wanted to. They lie there, face-to-face, quietly studying each other.

“Earlier,” Erik says, reluctant to disturb the peace, but he has to know, “you said you were afraid. Of what?”

Charles’ calm flickers. “I’ve told you my uncle is leaving on a business trip.”

It feels like a stone had dropped into Erik’s stomach. “What about it?”

“He’ll be away for a few days. It’s rare that he leaves the house like this – leaves me unsupervised, that is.” The blanket shifts around them, Charles restlessly plucking at the fabric. “Dr. Schmidt thought it would be a good opportunity.”

To do what? Erik wants to ask, but he’s never been one to play dumb. “He proposed,” he says flatly.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to accept?” Do you love him?

“I don’t know.” Charles bites his lip. “Likely yes.”

No. Erik’s hands dart out, gripping Charles’ shoulders. “Charles–”

“I know you don’t want me to. I won’t ask why, I know there are some things you can’t explain to me.” Charles shifts closer. If he angles his head just a bit and leans forward, then… “I just want you to know that I trust you, Erik. I trust you more than I trust him.”

“And you’re still marrying him.”

Charles’ smile is wistful. “You have your secrets, I have mine.”

“Is this what this is? Payback?”

“No, my friend, no.” Charles’ eyes are very wide, just a hint of blue visible in the dark. “No, of course not. It’s only…”

He closes the last little bit of distance between them. Charles’ lips are so soft, wonderfully soft, plush and giving against Erik’s. He must be nervous – Erik himself feels his heart thundering wild and fast – but Charles never hesitates. He pulls back just for a second, long enough to give Erik a fleeting smile, then he’s kissing Erik again, cupping his cheek and making a quiet little noise as he parts his lips.

And Erik – he’s never claimed to be virtuous. How many times has he thought about Charles’ mouth? Dreamt of it? The second his surprise fades, Erik kisses him back with the same controlled ferocity that characterises everything he does. For the second time that night, his fingers tangle into Charles’ dark curls, cradling the back of his skull and holding him close. Charles must be new to this, he knows, so Erik takes the initiative, deepening the kiss and licking into the wet heat of Charles’ mouth. Charles jumps under his hands, letting out a startled noise as their tongues slide against each other, and Erik grins, savagely pleased. He’s the first person to show Charles this. This belongs to him, to them, no one else.

Charles is the first to pull back. The darkness hides much of the detail, but Erik sees enough to send possessive fire streaking through him: Charles, bright-eyed and tousled, already breathing hard. “Erik,” he says urgently, almost a moan.

There’s only one thing Erik can do in response to that. He kisses Charles again, and again, and again, pulling him close and slotting their bodies together. Nobody has ever made him feel like this before. Mine, his thoughts rumble. Shaw can’t have him. He’s mine. Mine to protect. Rolling the two of them over, he pins Charles to the bed as they sink deeper into heady, senseless bliss, pleasure jolting through him as Charles’ tongue thrusts against his and their bodies move together, slow at first, then with increasing confidence.

Eventually Charles has to pull back for breath, and Erik takes great satisfaction in the way he gasps and squirms, pupils blown wide: “I don’t kno– I haven’t ever–”

“Shh.” Erik kisses him again, fond but heated. He can barely remember his earlier misgivings. “Come on, take this off, I want to see you.” He rucks up Charles’ nightshirt; Charles all but yanks it over his head. Then his hands slide under Erik’s undershirt, rubbing, and Erik groans lowly.

“Good, isn’t it?” There’s a gleam in Charles’ eyes as he leans forward for another peck on the lips, their noses bumping together.

“I’ll make you feel even better,” Erik promises. He pulls off his undershirt impatiently, and then they’re kissing again, only it’s even better this time as their bare chests press together. Erik can’t take his hands off Charles, who keeps making indecent little noises – after spending every day wrapped up in all those stifling layers of his, locked away in his lonely cage, he must be absolutely overwhelmed by all this contact.

No more. He’ll rip down all these walls that imprison Charles. He’ll set him free.

Charles kisses him with sudden ferocity, hands wrapping around Erik’s shoulders and all but dragging him down. “Yes,” he pants. “Yes, Erik.”

“Come here,” he says throatily, sliding a hand between them to palm at Charles’ groin. Charles gasps, jerking, and Erik squeezes. The thin fabric of Charles’ nightwear hides nothing: he’s incredibly hot and hard under Erik’s hand, and he can feel a damp spot on the fabric, Charles leaking precome already.

“Erik,” Charles’ breath hitches. “Touch me properly.”

Erik grins at that hint of demand, grins at the way Charles’ true self shines through his reserve. “Whatever you want, sir.”

“Don’t teas– nngh!” Charles arches with a cry as Erik slides a hand down his pants, taking hold of his cock properly. Oh fuck, why didn’t he do this earlier? Its weight feels perfect in his hands, blood-hot, the foreskin smooth. He pulls languidly, from base to tip, unable to take his eyes off the needy twist of Charles’ expression.

Not that Charles will lie still for long. “Let me, ah, let me touch you too.” And then it’s Erik’s turn to groan as Charles’ clever fingers close around his cock, stroking down the thick shaft. Growling, he pulls Charles’ pants off completely (Charles helpfully wiggling and kicking), but before he can kiss and suck his way down Charles’ torso the way he wants to, Charles’ hands are on him.

Ever the quick learner, Charles divests Erik of the last of his undergarments in short order, leaving the two of them completely bared to each other. Charles’ eyes rake up and down his body with obvious desire; Erik is sure the look on his own face is no less hungry.

Again they kiss, although Erik can’t be sure who initiates this time. For a few moments they merely rub against each other, Erik loving the feel of Charles’ smaller body under his own, Charles’ thighs and cock pressing against his without the barrier of cloth in the way. “You feel amazing, you know that? You’re–”

“Touch me,” Charles demands, half a plea. Erik is only too happy to oblige. Slicking his hand with spit, he presses their cocks together and strokes, Charles moaning as he thrusts against Erik’s cock and hand. Erik starts as Charles brings his hand down as well, clasping his.

But it feels right. Together, their fingers interlaced, they kiss and thrust messily against each other, the velvet darkness of the room filling with quiet panting and the slick noises of their pleasure. Erik shows Charles how best to twist his hand, how to squeeze and pull.

Charles comes first, with a soft, startled cry, spilling messily over their joined hands. The sight of Charles’ body clenching up, then the tension leaving him in a rush, his face open and vulnerable – that’s enough to drive Erik to the edge. The jerk of their hands reaches a frenzied pace and suddenly he’s coming too, the room reverberating with the force of his ragged cry. It’s a release in more ways than one, as he finally gives voice to all the suppressed conflict and fury and overwhelming need that had plagued him these last few months.

He can’t do anything but lie there afterwards. Charles shifts gently so that they rest side by side, holding Erik close as he trails sleepy kisses against his cheek and jaw, to the corner of his lips.

“I should clean us up,” Erik says half-heartedly.

“No. Stay.” For someone who had just come, Charles sounds remarkably firm. “I want you with me.”

Those words could almost be an aphrodisiac all by themselves. To be seen, to be wanted, to be accepted unequivocally – Charles has a way of striking right to the heart of Erik’s desires.

It’s too good to be true, and that’s what allows reality to slowly creep back in again. Erik withdraws, physically putting a bit of space between them again, mentally trying to detangle himself from the haze of affection he feels. “Charles. You know this can’t last.”

“We’ll find a way.” Charles looks at him, so solemn and so confident that Erik aches. “I’m serious, Erik. Whatever may come, I want you by my side.”

“You don’t know me. Not really.”

“I do.” Charles closes the gap between them again, pressing their foreheads together. “There’s so much anger and darkness within you, my friend, but that’s not all you are. You, you’re so passionate and brilliant, Erik. You care so deeply. There’s so much light in you.”

“No,” Erik says harshly. He can’t do this anymore. He can’t. “You’re wrong. You don’t know the truth.”

“Then tell me.”

Erik takes a deep breath, the world clicking into place as he makes his decision.

#cherik #xmfc #my writing

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panda-noosh · 6 years

Text

Pass Me Your Blade {Assassin!Pidge x Assassin!Reader}

Words: 5065

Pairing: Assassin!Pidge x Assassin!Reader

Summary: You had been ordered to kill the nobleman who went by the name of Zarkon. The job should have been an easy one – in and out, no bother. But all of that changes whenever you find out that one of the lead assassins at the Voltrol guild had been sent to do the exact same job as you.

Warnings: Graphic violence. Graphic scenes of blood.

Notes: if y'all sleep on Pidge i'm gonna flip a table. Also, I really like how this turned out for some reason. I love writing about assassins, and using all that fancy language from the olden days. I hope you guys like it too :)

The thrill pulsed through you, just as it always did.

It was a low thumping in the back of your head, an insistent need to get the job done, to do as you were ordered to do. You were not driven by spite of the person you were sent to kill, though you knew the details behind the persons reasoning for wanting this person dead; they had killed their family, slaughtered them in cold blood and left your customer to rot on his own. He had come up to the guild, shaky hands, looking over his shoulder – a new guy. He clearly had never hired an assassin before.

This happened all too often. The rich and the higher ranked got off with things that the people of your status would be killed for. Hung in the streets, stoned, burned. You were shown no mercy purely because you weren't as useful to the government as a nobleman was.

That was what drove your anger; the discrimination, the way you could understand exactly what your customer had gone through. You didn't remember your family. It had been long ago since they had been taken into captivity, forced to work for the higher-up before being slaughtered for not working hard enough. You had been the only one spared.

You didn't remember it. You often chose not to think about it, losing yourself in the thrill of getting vengence.

That was exactly what you were doing now. It was a paid job, but the satisfaction of ridding the world of evil was a good enough payment on its own. You would never tell your customers that, though. They would try and lower their prices if they knew you would do it free of charge any day of the week.

You leaped off of the mast you were previously crouched on, cloak billowing out behind you. With one hand, you gripped the edge of your hood, keeping it pulled on over your head in an attempt to keep your identity at least slightly unknown, though you were certain any guards who happened to look up would recognise you instantly – or at least recognise the silver cloak you wore, the only thing that gave away the identity of the guild you worked for.

In your other hand you held your knife. It was decorated with the blood of the guards you had taken down in the hallway. You felt guilt for killing them, that not having been your goal, but you had to get the job done, and they were in your way. There was no mercy you could have shown them that would have made your job any easier.

You rushed across the grand marble floor of the palace you had infiltrated, making your way towards the double doors that would lead you into the nobleman's – Zarkon, you believed his name was – dining quarters. You were positive he was there; you had checked and double checked the analysis Lotor had given to you. After weeks of trailing this man, you were almost certain he should be dining at this moment in time.

You kept your footsteps quiet. There was no point in rushing. Sure, you were eager. Eager to see the life drain from his eyes, eager to see justice be served, eager to get your job done – but being too quick on your foot would lead to people noticing you, would lead to your stealth becoming sloppy.

But subtlety would have to be thrown out of the window eventually. You saw no above-entrance to get into the dining room, meaning you would have to walk directly through the double doors to finish this man off. You would have to be quick about it, giving yourself only a few seconds to inspect who you would have to take down before heading directly for Zarkon.

You reached the double doors and glanced behind you one last time – there were no guards coming in after you. You were fairly certain you had rid of them all, some of them simply unconscious if they didn't cause too much of a racket. Those who had tried to grab you, or who had tried to call for help had been greeted with a knife in the throat.

You grinned to yourself, turned on your heel, reached your hand out towards the golden handles of the door-

Something slammed into the side of you.

You grunted, falling to the floor. Your fingers knocked against the handle, sending a loud clanging noise to echo through the grand hallway you stood in. It must have also signalled the guards on the other side of it. There was no way they hadn't noticed the sudden jerk of the handle as you fell.

But you couldn't worry about that now.

You rolled onto your back, immediately kicking your feet up. You couldn't even see who had attacked you in the first place, but it most certainly wasn't a guard. The person had come from the rooftops – this person was an assassin.

Competition.

You nearly sneered, but instead took the time to clamber to your feet after having slammed your feet into the persons chest. You glanced around once you were upright, knife held in your hand – the blood would be an obtrusion, but it was the best you could do at this point. You had no time to clean it.

That was when you saw the green cloak.

Your eyes lit up in panic – Pidge Gunderson, one of the head assassins of the Voltron guild. You had heard of her, of course. She was renowned, even amongst the noble men. People feared her. She was small, but she was strong and she was fierce and she very seldom showed any mercy for people who got in her way.

Apparently, that person was you today.

The kick you had sent to her chest had most definitely set her off balance. As you stood up and looked over at her, you noticed her stumbling, gripping one hand to her breast and panting heavily. You had winded her.

But that wouldn't be enough. She would recover soon enough if the rumours of her strength were anywhere near the truth.

You gripped your knife tighter as she caught herself, eyes snapping up to meet yours. For a moment, neither of you moved. You kept your head down, trying to keep your eyes covered by the lip of your hood – she didn't care. Her hood had long since fallen from her head, revealing her dishevelled brown hair and her sinister eyes that were glowing behind a pair of circular spectacles.

She panted, raised her knife and slowly started to circle you.

“They always send their weakest ones on jobs like these,” Pidge spat. Her voice was low, clearly trying to keep up any air of subtlety that she could. “They should have known you wouldn't last a minute if you came across one of our people.”

You didn't respond. If there was one thing Lotor had taught you during your time in the Galra guild, it was never to stoop to their level, never give them the satisfaction of a comeback. Especially if the assassin was as smart and quick as Pidge Gunderson.

Pidge smirked at your silence, clearly impressed with your reserve. Assassins were known to be easily angered – that was part of what made them so scary, so feared amongst the nobility. If the nobility even stepped out of line once, rage from guilds all across the province would be triggered.

“He's trained you well,” she continued. “But not well enough. You should have known to have stayed away as soon as you heard that I'd been given this job. Zarkon is my kill.”

She jumped towards you then, but you were prepared. Your cloak flurrying behind you, you span out of the way of her first blow, landing in a crouch against the marble floor. Pidge was quick, though. She parried, immediately swinging her blade in a downward arc towards you, slashing it down your arm and cutting the fabric of your cloak.

You hissed, stumbling up from your crouch. The cold feeling of blood dribbling down your arm was already starting to bother you, though it didn't stop you from sending your elbow up, slamming it into Pidge's chin as she came at you again. She grunted, her head swinging backwards, giving you just a few seconds to get away.

Perhaps if you could get yourself up onto one of the masts, you would be okay. You'd be able to distract her long enough to allow you some time to get into the dining room, finish the job, and leave.

But the risk was a great one, especially with your wounded arm. If Zarkon had guards with him – which he most likely did – you wouldn't be able to fight them all off with only one good arm.

You cursed, your options dwindling. Lotor wouldn't be happy to know that you had come back to the guild with nothing to report on. You hadn't even gathered any useful information – you hadn't expected to run into trouble this large.

Pidge recovered quickly from the blow you had sent to her. Her height made it easy for you to lose track of her, though the green cloak was far from subtle, warning you of her presence as she darted towards you.

You dodged her first blow and swung your knife when she skidded past you. You heard her yell, your knife making contact with the side of her face, slicing her cheek. The cut was shallow, but it still drew blood – definitely not enough to keep her out of your way, but enough to distract her.

You jumped up as she dabbed her fingertips against her now wounded cheek, one arm wrapping around the low masts. You grunted, biting down on your lip to disguise the cry of pain that so badly wanted to burst from your system as you did so – your arm was throbbing. Blood was pooling out around the wound, making tears sting your eyes as you felt it splitting even further with your attempts to pull yourself up onto the mast.

It became too much. Your fingers loosened around the knife you had been holding, and you watched in horror as it clattered to the ground with a loud clink.

Pidge's head snapped up to look at you, her eyes wide, alert. There was no way the guards hadn't heard that.

You were proven correct whenever the doors to the dining room finally swung open. You cursed to yourself, pulling yourself up with one final burst of strength and kneeling down in the masts, looking down at the guards who flooded into the room.

Pidge was still kneeling on the floor, delicate fingertips caressing the cut you had sliced into her cheek. She had looked away from you now, instead choosing to turn her death glare to the people marching towards her now.

Your breathing grew shallow. Your knife was in the middle of the room. They would notice it. They would know there was somebody else in the room, another assassin alongside Pidge.

You held your breath and watched the scene unfold, unsure of what else to do. There was no way you could retrieve it now.

Especially not whenever Zarkon sauntered into the room, purple cloak billowing out behind him in a way that reminded you that this man truly thought he was a kind, some deity that should be praised and bowed to. It made you sick. For a moment, you were half tempted to just take the chance; jump down from the masts and attack him where he stood, no matter the consequences.

You stayed where you were, the blood pooling around your fingers reminding you why you had fled from the scene in the first place.

“An assassin,” Zarkon said as he walked towards Pidge. “What a surprise.”

She didn't reply.

Zarkon grinned brightly. Guards had grabbed Pidge by the shoulders at this point, her feet lifted off of the floor, green cloak dishevelled and her hair even messier. She didn't panic of flurry in their grip; she simply let them hold her, glaring daggers at the nobleman walking towards her.

“Has Takashi not learned his lesson from the last assassin he sent to kill me?” said Zarkon. “What was their name? Allura? That poor girl – a beginner, I can only assume. She most definitely wasn't skilled in the art of subtlety, but that seems to be a running theme for people from your guild.”

Pidge clenched her jaw, and you felt your stomach coil. The thing was, Pidge was good at being subtle. You hadn't even suspected her in the room with you until she had attacked. It was you dropping your knife that had roused the attention of the guards.

Why wasn't she saying anything? She knew where you were. She had seen you scramble up into the masts. There was no way she believed you had fled without your knife – what kind of assassin would you be without your blade?

Zarkon slowly trailed his eyes over the marble room, and it was then that he spotted the blade in question lying in the middle of the floor. You held your breath again, slowly ducking down a little bit further, hoping and praying to whoever was listening that you were hidden well enough.

He frowned and approached the blood stained knife. It was short, almost laughable in comparison to the machete Lotor wielded, or the double bladed katana that Keith had. But it was your knife, and it currently had his guards blood on it.

“This isn't yours, is it?” he asked. He kneeled down and picked it up between his forefinger and thumb, inspecting it. The blood dripped off the end of it, making you wince. “Who is with you, assassin? Who else is lurking around in my palace?”

Pidge didn't reply at first. Her breathing had turned shallow, eyes darting around the room and yet she still refused to look up at you, hiding away in the masts.

You felt cowardly. You wanted to do something. You oddly wanted to help, but you were weaponless, and you were injured. There was little you could do without risking both your and Pidge's life at the same time.

Zarkon turned towards Pidge, his jaw clenched as her silence was the only response he received.

“This was fun up until now,” he growled. “I was showing you mercy. I could have ordered my men to kill you on sight, and yet you are still breathing in front of me now. I suggest you tell me who is with you, or else I might not be so lenient.”

Pidge spat. “Go to hell.”

Zarkon's eyes darkened before he nodded to the guard who was holding Pidge. Your stomach dropped as the guard immediately pulled a dagger from his waist holster and held it to the assassins throat, causing her to grunt and writher a tiny bit in his grip. She was clearly trying to keep her dignity, not wanting to make too much of a scene in fear of seeming scared of a man like Zarkon; he was a coward. He got his guards to do his work for him, killed innocents purely because he feared the idea of competition. He made you sick, and now he was holding one of your own with a dagger to their throat.

Because that was what Pidge was. You and her could have all the competition in the world, but Pidge was an assassin. She understood you. She knew what you had been through, and you both had the same goal.

You had to do something.

“Are you going to speak now?” Zarkon questioned. “One inch at a time, that blade will cut your throat. I will spare you if you tell me who your companion is.”

“If you kill me, you'll never know.”

Zarkon's eyes glowed. “You sure do have a smart mouth on you for somebody so small. How old are you, little one? Nine? Ten?”

“I may be young, but I've seen things you wouldn't even dream of, Zarkon. I'm stronger than you in every sense imaginable. So do your worst.”

What was she doing?

Zarkon's grin only brightened. He nodded to his guard once again, and you watched in horror as the blade was dug a little further into Pidge's neck.

She closed her eyes, breathing going erratic for a moment before she calmed down. Blood pooled over the edge of the dagger, dripping onto Pidge's sandalled feet.

“Are you going to talk now?” Zarkon questioned.

“The blade is mine,” Pidge hissed.

Your stomach dropped. You weren't entirely sure you had heard her right – did she just claim that your fallen blade was hers? Did she understand how much trouble that could get her in? It was one thing entering the palace with one blade, but two would surely have her publicly hung for her crimes.

Zarkon raised a bushy eyebrow, looking back down at your knife in his hands. You would do anything to retrieve that now. You needed to help Pidge.

“You truly walked into my palace, intent on killing me with two guild blades?”

Pidge nodded. “Two is always better than one, my good man.”

“Funny how that works,” Zarkon growled, before he stepped forward and swung your knife towards Pidge in a surprisingly professional arc.

Your legs took on a mind of their own, doing their own thing completely against your will. You were jumping from the masts before you could stop yourself, winding around a pole and landing in a crouch upon the floor. Your hood was still pulled on over your head, but a guard gasping, “A Galra assassin!” gave your identity away almost immediately.

You didn't wait for the reaction of Zarkon. You needed to get to him as fast as possible.

His arm was still in the air by the time you reached him. He went to bring it down towards Pidge, a killing blow, but your hands wrapped around his wrist and you tugged. He stumbled backwards, a cry of surprise escaping him as the two of you fell to the ground.

You immediately took the initiative, straddling the nobleman and fighting your knife from his grip. He was yelling, screaming for his guards to do something, but all he had at the moment where the three guards who had been dining with him – you and Pidge had killed and knocked out the others.

You span around, facing the two guards who were diving towards you. One of them still held Pidge, who was staring at you with wide eyes as you danced around the attackers.

One of them pulled a sword from a sheath on his back – a proper sword, silver and glistening in the white light of the marble room. You smirked at it.

“I always did enjoy a challenge.”

You stepped forward, making it seem like you were going to try and clash your dagger against his sword – how stupid he must have thought you to be. Instead, your step forward turned into you rolling against the floor, back against the marble. The guard grunted, looking down at you, and it was then that you brought your feet up, landing them directly into the area between his legs.

He cried out, eyes watering immediately. He doubled over, and you sent your heels into his chin, knocking him backwards.

You stood up quickly, grabbed his fallen sword and stuck it through his chest before he could even comprehend the idea of standing up.

The second guard came at you quickly. You span on your heel, immediately clashing your new weapon against his; now you had a sword. Now, your disadvantage was non-existent bar the fact that your skills in fighting were much more polished than his. Whilst the noblemans guards had been trained in the art of battle, you had been trained in the art of stealth. You knew how to creep around a man, how to take him by surprise; the guards knew how to charge, how to run into violence head first. They didn't know the manoeuvrers you did.

That much was made clear in the way this particular guard struck his sword towards you. With the mix of shock from the death of his friend and the anger he must have felt, his moves were sloppy. There were tears stinging in his eyes as he made a sharp swing towards you; one you easily blocked with your sword. The shock off the swing wasn't even that big, meaning his hit had surely been one he hadn't exactly planned out.

That was his first mistake; sloppiness.

Zarkon was yelling in the background, still trying to stand up though the shock from the current situation was keeping him pinned to the floor.

Pidge was writhering in her captives grip, yelling for you to stop being stupid, to get out of the way, but you weren't listening to her. The thrill was back again, and you couldn't help yourself.

You would get both you and Pidge out of here.

You swung your sword and the guard blocked it easy enough. He smiled as if he had won some kind of victory – that smile was quickly sheared as you parried and slammed the end of your sword into his neck. He gasped, sword clattering to the ground as his hands came up and wrapped around his own throat, his breathing suddenly turning into desperate gasps.

You took your chance, swinging the blade and stabbing it through his stomach.

Zarkon yelled. “Damn you! Damn you all!”

He was still trying to get away. You could pay attention to him later.

For now, you span on your heel and turned towards the guard holding Pidge. She was now staring at you with wide eyes, a slight smile on her face, but it shifted once she noticed where your attention truly was; not on her, but the guard holding her.

Your gaze seemed to almost remind her that she was, indeed, currently being held in somebodies grip.

She raised a brow, and to your surprise, she leaned forward and clamped her teeth down on the guards hands. The guard was in a daze, having just seen two of his friends be cut down with such precision, by a person so small, by a person beneath him nonetheless.

He yelled, trying to pull his hand from between her teeth but she kept her grip tight. You watched on in slight amusement as she kicked her feet back, digging the heels of her shoes into the mans thighs until his legs gave in and he fell to the floor. Pidge immediately rolled out of his grip, and you found yourself tossing her your blade once she was free. She grabbed it, winked at you, span on her heel, and dug the blade directly into the mans throat.

He stayed upright for the space of a few seconds before he fell to the side, blood spraying out between his fingers. In a matter of minutes, you were surrounded by three dead people and a panicked nobleman.

You and Pidge stood side-by-side, casting glances towards the cowering nobleman. He was in the corner, knees bunched up to his chest, eyes wide and tear glistened. He wasn't even looking at his fallen soldiers, instead keeping his gaze directly on the two assassins in front of him.

Pidge stepped forward. “What an interesting change of events, don't you think, Y/N?”

You pursed your lips. “Just kill him and get it over with.”

“There's no point in killing him. We'll let him rot here. He can't hire any more guards – not with the debt he's in. Not with the lives he's taken. We leave this palace and his entire empire falls.”

Zarkon's eyes widened. “Just kill me.”

“That would be mercy,” Pidge growled. “That is something you do not deserve.”

She turned on her heel, placed your blade back into your hands before she walked out of the marble room. You watched her leave, your mouth open in shock; that was now what you had expected. You had expected her to put the man down as soon as she had the chance.

But perhaps she was right; whenever you had to live with guilt, death seemed more of a mercy than life did.

The night air encompassed you as you stood upon the lip of the rooftop that you visited one night out of every month. The stars were bright this night, the moon glowing a deep red colour; you had arrived earlier than usual just to see the red moon. Red. The colour of blood. Red. The colour you saw so often, the colour of the thrill.

It wasn't calming. In fact, standing upon this roof now was almost a form of self hatred, reminding you of the people you had killed and the lives you had taken so you could afford to live as you did; certainly not in luxury, but you were well. You were alive. You were fed. You had clothes on your back and a family to go home to – a family of assassins, none of whom were related to you by blood, but that didn't matter. They protected you, and that was what made a family at the end of the day.

“Where did it all go wrong, Pidge?”

She stepped out of the shadows. You barely heard her. You very rarely did. You knew she was there though, watching you closely, keeping an eye on you like she had promised to do.

She had been keeping her promise. You had saved her life that day, all them months ago, and she was now going to make sure no harm came to you.

“I don't know,” she responded softly. “I prefer not to question it a lot of the time.”

“That's odd of you,” you said, turning to look at her. “You question everything else.”

She smiled lightly, ducking her head down with her arms folded over her chest. Once again, the hood of her green cloak was pulled away from her hair, releasing the light brown nest that she so rarely styled to look like anything more than a mess – but it suited her. You couldn't imagine her with anything else.

“Questions are important,” she said. “They stop you from doing idiotic things. Sometimes questioning things is good.”

“And what about impulse? Spontaneity? You miss out on such life changing events purely because you keep everything to a direct plan.”

Pidge frowned. “That's not true.”

“How is it not? I don't think I've ever seen you do something without a plan beforehand.”

“You haven't known me for that long, Y/N,” she said, before she looked up at you. “That's what scares me the most.”

You narrowed your eyes, unsure if she could see you in the darkness. The red moon seemed bright, but it did very little to illuminate the surrounding area. “What do you mean?”

Pidge stepped forward then, startling you. You nearly took a step back, the instincts of an assassin welling up inside of you, driving you to protect yourself. But Pidge was no threat. Despite the scar you bore on your arm from the slash of her blade, or the scar she wore on her cheek from the slash of yours, you two were allies.

Perhaps more than that, though you refused to ponder on such a ridiculous concept.

“You've known me for no longer than five months, and yet I find myself thinking about you more often than not,” she said. Your eyes popped open in surprise.

She took another step towards you, sighed. “You say I'm not spontaneous or impulsive, but I truly didn't mean for this to happen when I came up here tonight.”

“D-Do what?” you stammered, before silently cursing yourself for sounding so weak. This was Pidge. You had nothing to be afraid of.

“This.” She took the final step towards you, gently placed her hand on the back of your neck and drew you close to her. She paused, a breath away from your face. You could feel the warm heat radiating off of her, her skin boiling beneath the thick cloak she wore. You could smell the fresh blood on her, no doubt from a recent kill she had been ordered to be a part of.

She let her gaze travel down to your lips, making sure you weren't about to pull away in disgust. A part of you was tempted – assassins weren't meant to fall in love. You were a killer. You didn't deserve to take lives and live a full one at the same time.

But her eyes had trapped you, and the feeling of her small hand against the back of your neck, and the sound of her heavy breathing was enough to keep you frozen in space.

And then she was pressing her lips to yours, and everything else fell into place at the same time.

There was a constant weight on your shoulders, being an assassin. A constant fear that somebody was going to attack you, somebody was going to find the location of the guild and take you all out. That was always a risk, and it was one that left you on edge at all hours of the day.

Never before had you believed that that edge could be taken off by something as simple as a kiss, but god did you suddenly melt.

Your lips moulded against Pidge's, your body doing the exact same thing. You two seemed to fit perfectly together, her hands falling from your neck and resting themselves on your waist. You weren't entirely sure what to do with your hands, but found yourself placing them on either side of her face, pulling her that little bit closer to you.

And the moment was perfect. Amongst the fighting and the violence and the lives you lived, this moment was perfect.

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